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💘 I'm Pink / Soy Rosa 🌹
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You know—I'm something of a 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓇 myself:
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↬ Mortal Kombat ↬
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Cole groggily lifted his head from the worn couch, his neck stiff and muscles sore. He muttered curses under his breath as he rubbed his eyes. The wall clock read 4:03 AM. At least he had the weekend to recover before he had to return to the temple.
He padded to his room, carefully stepping over the noisiest floorboards he still hadn't had a chance to replace, past Allison in bed, then to their bathroom. He turned on the shower, water streaming with a sputtering hiss—something else that needed fixing.
The steam fogged the edges of the mirror. His hands were braced against the sink when he finally looked at his reflection.He didn't look as rough as he felt.
His mind was still stuck on tactics. Kamidogus, portals, and people being turned into cyborgs.
If it's not one damn thing, it's another.
These fleeting days he got to spend at home with his family weren't supposed to be invaded by his bloodline-inherited responsibility to Earthrealm. He was heavy, and it wasn't shaking off. He was pissed at himself for it.
There was a simplicity to not knowing where he came from. Now the dragon on his chest stared back at him—a glaring reminder of what was at stake if he couldn't lead his team to victory.
He opened the mirror cabinet, popped a couple of ibuprofen, and forced himself to carry on without dwelling on it.
Even after a long shower, it was still way too early for Allison and Emily to be awake. He wanted to keep quiet so as not to disturb their sleep, so he went to the den to busy himself with some random shit on his desk—probably a model car or a motorcycle he never finished.
When he opened the door, he caught a hint of weed still clinging to the scent of laundry detergent, and got halfway into the room before he realized someone was sleeping on the open couch bed.
Zali was curled up on her side, facing the door, cocooned in her oversized hoodie, the hood drawn over her eyes, wearing loose gray basketball shorts. The blanket had been kicked to the floor.
"Dammit." He whispered, closing his eyes tightly for a second out of embarrassment.
"Dude, it's your house," Zali rasped sleepily. "Get whatever you came in here for."
"Sorry. Wasn't tryin' to wake you up, just... forgot you were here," he grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck.
Her laugh was barely more than a nasal exhale. "So did I. Thank God I remembered where the bathroom was in time." She yawned, snuggled back into the pillow, and was already drifting off.
Well, that coulda gone much worse. Zali—at least for a moment—at peace instead of prickly and on edge? He'd never get used to that.
And then his thoughts went back to her being the only one still without her arcana.
Fuck. Temple problem. Not here.
He glanced at her again, watching the steady rise and fall of her shoulders, a small shiver running through her legs as they were uncovered and exposed to the cold stream from the A/C vent.
He picked up the blanket and shook it out, careful not to touch her as he draped it over her. He couldn't name it, but he was starting to feel more hopeful about her turning things around for herself.
Cole slipped a pen and an old crossword puzzle book off the desk, then closed the door with barely a creak from the hinges behind him.
After 7 AM, he figured he'd get a head start on coffee and breakfast.
First to emerge from the hall was Emily, still in her paw-print pjs, dragging her fuzzy-socked feet, hair mussed from sleep. Her thread-woven braids were still tightly in place.
"Mornin' sunshine," Cole said over his shoulder from the stove, separating slices of bacon and laying them in the pan. "You do those yourself?"
Emily grinned, her sleepiness fading quickly. "Zali did it. Cool, huh? She showed me how, but she's way better at it."
He smiled. Girl doesn't even let her mom touch her hair. Crazy.
Zali entered the kitchen shortly after, wearing her hoodie, her scattered braids pulled back in a loose ponytail, pausing to watch Cole in full dad mode before joining a beaming Emily at the table.
"He cooks?" Zali leaned in, mock-whispering to Emily. Cole's eyes were already narrowed suspiciously at her.
Emily mirrored her, covering her mouth with her hand, but kept her eyes on her dad and spoke plenty loud for him to hear.
"Dad's like a caveman—if it's not an open flame or the grill, he's hopeless. Honestly, I'm surprised he even knows how to turn on the gas."
Cole walked over to the table, tongs still in hand, and looked between them. "Bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast isn't rocket science, child."
"Ooga booga, caveman," Emily said.
Zali cackled, covering her mouth with a fist. It was immature, even for her, but she had to admit Emily nailed the delivery.
"And you," Cole jabbed the tongs at Zali as he retreated, "can get your own damn coffee."
Zali got up from the table, smirking at Emily. "You're gettin' me in trouble, niña."
"You can use Dad's mug again," Emily chirped—no shame in getting Zali in more Dad-trouble.
Cole rolled his eyes and scoffed, "Mi casa es su casa." He pointed Zali toward the cabinet with the cups.
Zali grabbed both his dark gray mug and another blue one, setting his mug by the coffee maker before pouring her own. She nudged him with her elbow.
"Mr. Prophecy over here—fights murder robots, gets bullied by a twelve-year-old, and cries over his coffee mug. Am I missing anything?"
She smiled over the rim of the blue ceramic, raised her eyebrows, then took a sip.
Cole tilted his head and shot her a look meant to be offended—but it was anything but.
Then her stomach did something she hadn't expected—a warm, sharp flutter—just as Allison stepped out of the hallway and kissed Emily on the top of her head.
Zali bit the side of her tongue hard, grateful that Cole's attention had shifted off her. She went back to sit at the table.
Allison softly said "morning" to Zali and went to Cole. She kissed him and gently touched the bruise on his jaw.
"I'm fine," he assured her.
Allison's eyes flicked over his face, the injuries, the fatigue, still full of concern.
"It got handled. You two are safe," he reiterated more softly. "That's all that matters."
Zali kept her attention on the intricate beat she drummed with her index and middle fingers on the table's edge—not on the pair standing by the stove, still looking at each other as if no one else existed.
Emily's voice cut through her focus.
"Dad told me you're like, a crazy good drummer."
"Pfft. Don't even have a kit anymore, thanks to him. Now I'm just good at hitting shi—" Zali pressed her lips into a thin line and censored herself, "Stuff."
Zali and Emily kept going back and forth about it—Zali careful to share a more kid-friendly version of the events.
Cole and Allison exchanged surprised looks.
This time, Cole really noticed the matching hair, the teasing, and the new, easy laughter that Emily drew out of Zali.
Zali was still all attitude, knee drawn up on the wooden chair and talking with her hands, but this was different. He'd never seen her face light up like that. He was proud of it—proud to help pull someone out of the dark instead of just watching them fall further in.
Once breakfast was over, Emily grabbed Zali's hand and tugged her down the hall toward her room.
"If I'm not back in an hour, send help." Zali chuckled, a little nervous, but let herself be led away.
"You're on your own," Cole snorted.
Cole and Allison set the breakfast dishes in the sink.
"Gotta say, I did not expect those two to get along like that," Cole remarked.
Allison peeked down the hall to make sure the girls were in Emily's room. She lowered her voice. "I need to show you something."
She went into their bedroom, reached into the closet, and pulled down a shoebox. She returned to the kitchen, set it on the counter, and removed the lid so Cole could see.
Inside were stacks of bills—hundreds, fifties, and twenties.
Cole let out a low whistle. "Holy shit."
"Zali gave that to me yesterday," Allison said quietly.
He shook his head, eyebrows raised. "That's more than ten grand. Easy."
"Fourteen thousand two hundred, actually. I counted it—twice. No idea where she got all this—she just insisted I keep it."
Cole stared at the money, then at the hallway where Zali and Emily had vanished. "Guess she's really trying to start over."
Allison closed the box, her expression still caught between worry and appreciation. "I just thought you should know."
At some point that evening, when she finally drifted out of Emily's orbit, Zali was back in the den. She started looking over some of the photos on the wall and on the shelves.
One caught her eye, and she lifted the frame off the table—Cole, twenty-two, at the beach, grinning at whoever took the photo like he was hot shit. His sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose, and he was flexing with a championship belt slung over his shoulder.
So different from the guy she knew now, carrying the weight of the upcoming tournament. She smiled at the version of him standing in the sand, free of it, on top of the world. Her thumb brushed the glass over his face.
She didn't notice Emily watching her through the slightly ajar door.
"That was his first belt. Mom was holding me when she took it—I was like a year old."
Zali set the frame back down and tried to mask her surprise at being caught with a snort. "Total baby face. Looks just like you."
"He looks like a dork. I'd never." Emily crossed her arms and leaned back against the door frame, keeping her gaze on Zali. She recognized that look—it was the same one her mom gave the photo when she saw it.
"Bet your mom's got some embarrassing baby pictures of you somewhere around here."
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Emily sassed, straightened up, and left Zali there.
Don't get used to this. Shut that shit down.
The domestic scene had never appealed to her before. Now, being around Cole's family—she still couldn't decide if it was comforting or just unsettling.
What Emily said about Cole's picture made her think of her own childhood—how it might have been when Zali was a year old, with her own family of three, before her mom was gone. A face she had to learn from photo albums.
The Youngs were just... normal. Nothing she observed suggested this wasn't the natural state of things in their home.
Either way, it was night and day compared to what she'd known growing up.
On Sunday, Zali was noticeably quieter when she woke up. No one pushed it when she began withdrawing, spending all her time alone.
Mid-afternoon, Cole was in the garage, under the truck's hood, trying to figure out what was causing the noise Allison had mentioned.
The side door opened and closed. Emily stood there, worry creasing her features.
Cole wiped grease from his fingers with a towel. "What's wrong, baby girl?"
"Is Zali okay?"
He gave her a gentle smile. "I'm sure it's just a lot for her right now."
Emily hesitated. "Why?"
Cole thought for a second. "I think... I dunno. She made a big change. Maybe she's not used to it."
Emily sat on the front fender next to him, then looked back up at him. "She's really cool. She just seems... lonely, I guess."
Cole nodded, his voice softer. "I know. It's hard for her to see she really isn't alone. Not anymore."
Emily relaxed a little. "'Cause she has a cornerman now."
Cole chuckled, ruffling her hair. "Yeah, she does. You're probably still better at it than I am, though."
"Don't forget it," she winked. "Oh yeah, I fixed it." She reached into her pocket and slipped out a black-and-yellow bracelet, matching the one on her wrist. "I made it stronger this time."
He held out his arm and let her slide it back onto his wrist, gave her shoulder a little squeeze before she took off back to the house.
For the rest of the day, they checked in on Zali from time to time while she sat on the porch steps. She dragged the toes of her boots in the dirt in mindless patterns.
Zali already knew that once the weekend was over, it was back to the temple, business as usual. Cole and Allison wanted to help her—they'd done their good deed. She'd stay grateful, just a blip in their lives, nothing more.
Zali turned in early, unceremoniously shoving her clothes into her bag. When she lay down, she forced her eyes shut, scolding herself for every time her gaze lingered on the details around her in the dark.
Monday. Dawn. Almost time to leave. Zali stayed in the den, pacing a short line with her backpack on, her nails picking at the straps.
Cole still lay in bed, with Allison tucked under his arm. Her head rested on his shoulder, her arm draped across his stomach. They didn't need to say anything; they just waited. He hated it when it was time for her to let go, to leave her and Emily behind again.
Cole knocked on the den door before opening it. Zali stood in the middle of the room, posture tense.
"Ready?"
She exhaled slowly and followed him outside.
After about a minute, the portal appeared, crackling and expanding.
Allison and Emily followed to see them off, hugging Cole together. Zali hung back again, her expression unreadable as Cole's girls waved goodbye.
A quiet "See ya" was all she could manage, eyes averted.
Cole watched her, wondering what had happened to make her rebuild the wall.
They stepped through together into the torchlit space.
Zali wouldn't meet his eyes, already looking down the corridor where the rooms were. "I'm not hungry. Gonna just set up my shit again."
Cole stopped himself from asking, even though everything in him told him to.
"Yeah. Catch you later, then." He lingered for a moment, then headed to join the others.
Sonya was the first to notice that only Cole had entered the hall. "Zali?"
Cole slid onto the bench. "She's here. She got through it."
There were different reactions around the room, but everyone seemed to relax at the news, except Kano, who muttered a big whoop under his breath.
Cole barely gave him a side-eye before addressing everyone else.
"I wanted to run something by you guys. Get her on the right track for her arcana."
"Way ahead of you, champ," Jax answered, nodding to Sonya. "We actually got a little somethin' ready for her today."
In her room, Zali just flung her bag into the chest at the foot of the bed. It landed on its side, and as she was closing the lid, she noticed a hint of pink and green sticking out of the side pocket.
A box woven keychain.
Emily.
Zali couldn't help the smile. She let the lid down and sat, twisting the plastic in between her fingers. For a moment she hesitated before setting it on top of her bed and making her way out for training.
Jax clapped Zali on the shoulder as she entered. "Welcome back, kid."
"You're looking much better," Sonya said honestly. "Now we need to get you caught up."
She and Jax led Zali to the courtyard. Waiting there was a Special Forces-style obstacle course.
Zali followed the trail with her eyes—the wall climb, the platforms, the crawl spaces. "Everyone else is doing this, right?"
"It's all you," Jax said, holding up a stopwatch.
"Puta madre," Zali sighed.
"Hustle, Guerrero." Sonya clapped her hands together.
Zali took off, with Sonya calling out and pushing her the whole way.
At last, Zali stood before Jax, chest heaving.
"Hey, you made pretty damn good time." Jax glanced at the stopwatch, then flashed it to Sonya, who nodded in agreement.
"Now, run it again," he directed.
"Whatever," Zali muttered, hanging her head as she returned to the start.
Wood splinters rained down—Zali ducked, turning just in time to see Sonya already aiming her arm, purple energy rings forming around her forearm.
"You're gonna want to keep moving, Zali," Sonya warned.
By the time Zali finished and the course was blown to bits, she collapsed onto the cobblestones, chest heaving, and let out a wheezing laugh.
"Chingado. You two just wanted to run my ass ragged."
"Good work. You're on cleanup, Guerrero," Sonya said, already turning on her heel.
"Aw, what?" Zali groaned.
Jax smirked. "Guess who was stuck cleanin' up your mess last time."
"Yeah, yeah, vaya a la mierda pues," Zali mumbled, peeling herself off the floor to get it over with.
Cole was in the middle of sparring with Liu when Jax and Sonya crossed his path.
"Any luck?" Cole asked when he noticed them.
Liu was mid-strike when he hit Cole in the chest, the armor glowing orange and absorbing the blow. Cole didn't budge. Liu subtly shook off his fist.
Jax rested his hands on his hips. "Nope. She's beat, but the kid's a tough nut to crack."
"Her mouth's still working overtime," Sonya added.
"Guess that's a good sign," Cole said.
Tuesday.
Kuai approached Zali at the end of the table as soon as she finished eating breakfast. "Come with me."
Zali quirked a questioning brow at Cole.
"He's gonna try something new with you," Cole explained, glancing between the two of them.
"Coulda said something, since he's your bestie now," she complained as she got up.
"I was gettin' to it," Cole smirked.
"Uh-huh."
Cole and Kuai exchanged a look. Cole shrugged and told Kuai, "Try to get along."
Zali followed Kuai into a narrow, torchlit room. A rectangular wooden crate lay at the center.
"Uh, what's in the box, Kuai?"
"Sensory deprivation," Kuai replied flatly.
"I have to get in there?" she asked skeptically, pointing with her thumb.
He didn't answer in words, just shot her that stony gaze and gestured for her to do it.
Zali took a deep breath and stepped inside, opening her arms and tossing him an annoyed look as she sat.
Kuai ignored her, handed her the earplugs, and tied the blindfold over her eyes, surprisingly gently. She lay back as he secured it. He waited, keeping his distance, practicing his own forms.
After enough time had passed, he opened it and leaned in enough to shake her shoulder, interrupting a soft snore. Zali pulled out both plugs and lifted the blindfold. She squinted up at him as her eyes adjusted to the light.
"We done?" she croaked.
"You were sleeping," Kuai folded his arms, the slightest hint of frustration in his head tilt.
"No," she drawled, holding up her index finger, goading him. "I was deprived of consciousness."
"You are insufferable, Quetzali."
"And you failed me. Again," she snapped, climbing out of the box.
"Only because you're incapable of taking anything seriously."
"Aw, Kuai," she stopped in front of him, just a hair too close, and looked up at him with mock appreciation. "You really do pay attention."
Kuai wasn't amused. He refused to give her the satisfaction of a response. He stepped back and exhaled slowly before walking away.
"Cerote," Zali muttered, her glare following him until he turned the corner. Her fist was clenched. She wasn't getting over their spar anytime soon.
Cole met Kuai in the middle of the corridor. "How was she?"
Kuai paused for a moment. "I fail to understand your patience with her."
Cole crossed his arms. "She can be a pain in the ass, but at least she's funny."
Kuai raised a brow, finding nothing humorous in Cole's statement.
Cole recalibrated. "At least you tried, man."
"The longer she goes without her abilities—without adequate training to hone them—the more dangerous it is for her, Cole. It's not a laughing matter."
"I know. That's why we're doing this."
Wednesday.
Zali was ready for the day when Johnny appeared in her doorway.
"You're with me today, Zee," Johnny beamed.
Zali threw her head back and shut her eyes. "Oh, no. Here we go."
He leaned in the doorframe, undeterred and grinning. "Oh, c'mon, I'm not that bad. I might surprise you."
"Doubtful," she shot back.
Johnny straightened and waved her to follow. He led her out to a garden courtyard with a large rock fountain.
Zali surveyed the surroundings and the lack of anything happening. The water sloshed gently over the stones in the pool.
She shoved her hands in her pockets and stared at him. "Now what?"
"Improv, baby!" Johnny held his arms out as if it was the most obvious thing on Earth.
"So you're bullshitting this as you go." Zali rolled her eyes so hard she thought they'd get stuck like that.
"That's the whole point. The unexpected!" He flailed his hands around as if it might actually get her excited about the idea.
"Idiota," Zali scoffed.
"Or maybe that's just what I want you to think... Fine—let's work on that image."
"Cage, if you try to She's All That or Princess Diaries me, I'm punt-kicking you in the balls."
He reached in his jacket pocket for a cheap pair of sunglasses and handed them to her.
Patting her shoulder, he leaned in to encourage with a ridiculous reverence. "It's all about how you put 'em on."
Zali flicked them open and slid them on without missing a beat, no different from any other time she wore sunglasses.
Johnny grinned, waving his hand like he was showing off a marquee. "See? It says, 'I'm a badass. Don't give a damn what you think.'"
"Congratulations, Johnny," Zali sighed, barely suppressing a smirk as she slid the glasses to the bridge of her nose. "You've single-handedly made me reconsider my six days of sobriety."
Johnny put his own pair on and shrugged. "That's Hollywood for ya."
She pushed the glasses back into place and started walking away. "I'm keeping these."
"Joke's on you, I've got spares," Johnny called out behind her.
Thursday.
Liu was already waiting in the temple's meditation space, incense curling up slowly as he lit each cone. Zali rocked on her toes, thumbs in her jean shorts belt loops.
"Today is simple," he said as he set the last one in place. "I only want you to focus on clearing your mind."
"My mind doesn't exactly have a good track record of cooperating with me," she snorted.
Liu thought about it for a moment, passing her beads like the ones wrapped around his hand. "That... is a painfully obvious observation."
Zali chuckled as Liu gestured for her to sit.
They sat on their own separate mats, legs crossed.
"Pro'bly a bad thing. I feel like I should be rolling a blunt right now. 'Cause of the," she pointed around the room, "Uh, never mind."
"That's your old life talking. Don't let it hold you back," he encouraged. "You've grown past it, even if you don't feel it."
Liu's eyes stayed closed. Zali kept peeking them open—she couldn't do the sitting-still thing. After a few minutes, she started tapping out a beat on her knee and shaking the beads.
Liu smirked without even opening his eyes. "If you didn't want to, you could have just said no."
"Figured I'd give it a shot." She straightened her legs in front of her, leaning back on her palms. "Nothin' else seems to be working."
He reached over and set a hand on her shoulder. "Don't give up. It will come in time."
"Hope you're right, mano."
That evening, Zali was alone in the dirt, practicing her forms. Fluid, focused.
"No superpowers yet, huh? That's a shame. Y'know, you're really fuckin' this whole thing up for the rest of us," Kano taunted, watching her.
"Not in the mood," she huffed out.
He didn't care—he continued. "I ever tell you how I got my laser?"
"Me vale mierda."
He ignored her. "The monk twins just had to piss me off real good."
Zali stopped and faced him head-on. "I'm not doing this shit with you, Kano."
"Oi, well, maybe I'm feelin' gracious—tryin' to help. 'Scuse me if I can't bring the stray home to my big, happy family." He started to walk away, then turned on his heel and headed back toward Zali, this time faster.
"I guess I read you wrong, Red. Maybe you're really the type to have a little fun with the missus while Daddy's out savin' the world," Kano said, winking, his voice low and snide.
Zali pointed at him, harshly. "Don't you talk about them, I swear—"
"Fair enough." He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Dirty little secret's right up your alley. I'm just dyin' to know who's."
"Keep it up—you're gonna die, all right."
"Careful with this one, mates. We found her arcana." Kano pointed at Zali, glancing at the rest of the group farther away outside the pit. "She can play house and homewrecker."
No one heard him except Zali.
"Fuck you, Kangaroo Jack," Zali snapped, shoving him hard. Kano caught her in a rear chokehold, and she began maneuvering to escape.
"Anytime, sweetheart. And I don't mind if you're still sniffin' after your pretty boy," he whispered in her hair.
"Uh, guys..." Johnny called from the top of the steps, trying to alert everyone to the fight erupting below.
Zali broke away, elbowing Kano in the ribs and decking him in the jaw when his arms dropped. She grabbed a big chunk of rubble from outside the sand pit.
When she swung for his head, Kano obliterated it with his eye laser. Turning her face from the flying debris, she unintentionally gave him an opening.
He kicked her straight in the stomach, dropping her to all fours in the sand. Zali started to push herself back up. Kano spat blood from his mouth, then—with a quickness—drew his knife and backed her up against the base of a statue.
Kano pressed the blade to her throat, letting it nick her skin so blood trailed down her collarbone. Zali gritted her teeth at the sting.
"Ho ho, did that strike the right nerve, love?"
"That's enough, Kano." Liu and Johnny pulled him off. Jax ripped the knife from his hand by the blade and crushed it with his cybernetic fingers.
Sonya stepped in front of him and pushed him away. "Touch her again, and I'll put you down, Kano. Tournament be damned."
"What? Everything you lot tried on her didn't work!" Kano laughed, blowing Zali a kiss.
The red-stained, shit-eating grin remained plastered on his face until the group ushered him past Cole and Kuai, out of Zali's sight.
Zali stayed with her back against the smooth stone, arms crossed over her abdomen, fists clenched and trembling as she stared down at her boots in the sand.
The others gave her space, leaving her in the courtyard as the commotion subsided. Zali stayed—lost and defeated.
She didn't react to the sound of Cole's footsteps as they drew closer.
"You okay?" Cole asked gently, tilting his head to get a look at her face.
"I'm not..." she huffed. "I'm not cut out for this shit."
"Zali—"
"No, Cole." She cut him off sharply. "He's right. I'm gonna fuck this up. That's all I know how to do."
"Hey, listen to me." Cole took her hands in his. "Kano doesn't know shit—don't listen to that asshole for a second."
Her eyes fixed on their hands, guilt creeping up her neck for how much she wanted it, how much it meant to feel him.
"I get it. You've got your walls, you've got your problems—who doesn't? But I still see the fight in you, that strength. You get your ass kicked, sure, but you always get back up swinging."
Her head hung lower, instinct telling her to keep his words at bay. That old habit—pushing kindness out, the voice that said it was never true.
"C'mon. Don't do that. Look at me."
She shut her eyes tight. But that quieter voice—the one only he made louder—told her to just do it. So she did.
"I already know who you are underneath, Quetzali. But it's not enough if I'm the only one who believes it... You gotta start believing it, too."
She let herself hear him—saw that he truly cared, no ulterior motive. And for a second, she stopped fighting it.
A warmth spread through her chest, a sensation that reverberated into a hum. She looked down at her hands, covered by his—fuchsia aura swirling through the pulsing gold in his palms.
She squeezed his hands tighter, bringing them closer to her eyes and turning them over. "You're not seeing this?"
"No?" His confusion bloomed as he watched her frantically check their hands, his brow raised.
The single word he'd just spoken spread between them like gold ripples across a pool. She looked back up at his face. Her irises glimmered, intensifying to a pale green.
"Your eyes never did that before," Cole said.
"My eyes?" she asked.
The air between their joined hands thrummed—a low, shivering vibration that traveled from her skin into his palms. Cole drew a startled breath.
"You felt that?" she whispered, shimmering eyes wide.
"Yeah," he glanced down. "What... what are you doing?"
She shook her head, her voice trembling. "Nothing. It's just—happening."
The ground at her feet pulsed faintly, sand trembling outward in circles. Zali could feel the vibrations and see the fuchsia leaving her, and the gold emanating from Cole. For Cole, it was all touch—like standing on a speaker with just the bass, rattling your bones.
Cole grinned, awestruck. "Zali. That's your arcana."
"I got it? I got it!" She hugged him, throwing her arms around his neck, hopping, and squeezing him a bit too tight.
He smiled, hugging her back for a moment. "You're bleeding on me, by the way."
"Oh shit." Zali pulled back quickly, let go of Cole, and cleared her throat, a flush creeping onto her cheeks.
She looked anywhere but his face as she moved around him.
He kept an eye on her, and she flashed a cringy smile, backing away and pointing over her shoulder with both thumbs. "My bad. I should, uh, take care of that."
She jogged away with a spring in her step, clapping her hands together—watching streaks of color only she could perceive shoot from the impact. "Hell yes!" she laughed to herself.
"Hell yes," Cole echoed, shaking his head, a grin tugging at his lips. She finally did it—and he'd had the best seat in the house. Her corner.
Zali's pure joy caught him off guard—but a hug? That was a monumental step for touch-me-and-die Zali.
He glanced up at the statue looming over him—Kung Lao's. Those shoes would never be filled, but maybe somewhere, Kung Lao could see that Earthrealm's chances were improving.
Bangkok, Thailand - January 2020
The Shaolin Sunset.
It had been a while since Feng used it, and it was well overdue—especially once he casually dropped his guard and took an elbow to the cheek. His patience ran out, even when he coldly surveyed his opponent, who desperately called it quits.
Feng took his stance. The crowd surrounding the cage cheered and whistled. Despite the noise, he could still hear the crack, felt it too.
Broken ribs—definitely. Collapsed lung—most likely. He convulsed for a bit, then went still.
He should live. The key word being 'should'.
Feng didn't care to check back. He grabbed the beads hanging in the fencing by the cage door and slipped them over his head before stalking off to the bar. Just another night in underground purgatory. At this rate, he didn't see them ending.
Like clockwork, the bartender slid over his beer and a towel for the blood on his chest.
"Silver-haired man at the table asked for you," the bartender gestured to the table in front of the ring.
That was a first. Feng glanced at the table briefly, sizing up the seated men.
The one who'd asked for him—silver-haired with a loose posture—was already starting a collection of empty glasses in front of him. In the other chair sat a man in a suit with a briefcase, peering around warily. Too fidgety to belong in this part of town.
Feng presented himself as requested, standing with all easy, cocky swagger, taking a quick pull of his beer.
The man didn't give an introduction, just mimicked Feng's form, and commented on the Shaolin Sunset's infamous reputation.
Feng chuckled, not hiding his amusement with an easy tilt of his head and an unbothered nod. He set the bottle down, wiped off the blood, and leaned on the table, just long enough to brag unashamed about the move's legality in Bangkok and his execution of it. The man seemed genuinely impressed. All the while, Feng clocked the accent.
American. Commission, maybe. So he asked.
Silver said no and rose to his feet. Even intoxicated, his presence remained assured and sure, standing taller. Feng stood his ground, but wasn't prepared to have to look up at him to maintain eye contact. Silver proceeded to list Feng's current financial complications with a patronizing sympathy.
Feng's internal defenses shot through the roof.
Silver pressed his lips in a thin line, eyebrows raised. "... you got into bed with the wrong people, friend.
"Ah." Feng nodded slowly with half a smirk before dropping it and raising a skeptical brow. "Are you my friend now?"
"No." Silver shook his head. "I'm your savior..."
Then came the offer—his debts paid in full. That really got his attention. He needed to know the catch—win the Sekai Taikai and humiliate some other dojos to get his Iron Dragons back for good.
Feng loved the sound of that deal. Without hesitation, he jumped at the opportunity.
"Consider it done."
Silver was beyond pleased.
The lawyer stood to protest. Feng didn't bother to cast a glance in his direction. His eyes stayed locked on Silver. He recognized the real predator in the room. Though he still wasn't sure what type of animal this one was.
Silver cut his lawyer off harshly, spewing venom about what the other dojos took from him. He tossed back the rest of his drink and slammed the empty glass on the tabletop. "Draw it up."
His lawyer shrank back and sat down.
Silver looked back to Feng. "I'll make the call to my man in Hong Kong. Welcome back, Sensei Wolf." He held his hand out for a handshake. "Terry Silver."
Feng accepted with a firm grip.
"Now," Silver clapped his hands together. "We have work to do. How soon can you be packed?"
They didn't wait until morning. Less than two hours later, Feng was being chauffeured by one of Silver's men to a private airstrip.
Feng settled into the jet's plush leather seat. Being at ease, surrounded by luxury, felt like a lifetime ago. The attendant flashed a practiced smile, but her poise slipped as she batted her lashes at him while pouring his drink. He sipped from the crystal glass and let his eyes wander before zeroing in on Silver again.
Silver smirked over the rim of his glass. "Nice, right? This is only the beginning."
Feng shrugged, nonchalant. "Fortunately for you, I've been destroying dojos at the Sekai Taikai since I was a teenager."
"Fortunately for us." Silver laughed in delight. "I'm familiar with your career, Wolf. A man of vision. You and I, we're not so different."
Feng wasn't biting. Not yet. He rested his elbows on his knees, all business. "Tell me about your friends, the spoilers. Who are they?"
"Miyagi-Do," Silver scoffed. "A constant thorn in my side. Always shouting down from their self-righteous moral high ground, convinced they're David slaying Goliath."
Miyagi.
The name sounded vaguely familiar to Feng. He couldn't quite place where he might have heard it before, so he pushed the thought aside—Irrelevant.
"The other... Cobra Kai. Oh, they were my legacy. Everything I fought for, bled for, stolen right from under me," Silver's grip on the arm of his seat tightened as he spoke. "But not for long. I'll be ending with a new legacy."
Maybe he and Silver really were more alike than he initially thought.
"We both play our parts, we both come out on top." Silver lifted his glass. "To taking back what's ours."
Their glasses clinked.
Once they'd landed, three hours later, the sun still hadn't risen. A car waited for them. Feng was introduced to the driver, Dennis De Guzman.
Silver had opted for a hotel, but Feng declined, preferring to stay in one of the dojo's apartments rather than straying too far.
The dojo was their first stop.
Dennis unlocked the door, handed Feng a set of keys, then turned to leave in the car with Silver.
Feng stepped inside and switched on the lights. Dust motes floated in the air after his shoes disturbed them off the floorboards. Cobwebs hid in all the corners.
He took a breath—relief, or something painfully close to hope. Despite the place needing cleaning, everything was exactly as he'd left it. He turned the lights back off and headed up the stairs to the third floor.
He kept his eyes forward, walking down the hall, straight to room 1. It was stuffy, so he cracked the window. At least the last of his possessions and furniture inside had been protected with plastic covers.
He'd hold off on unpacking. He had students and families to contact as soon as the hour was decent.
On the first day of his class's return, Feng was already busy pulling out pads and weapons when Silver strode into the building.
"That's what I like to see," Silver grinned, a laptop bag slung over his shoulder, sauntering over to the wall containing every Iron Dragons' achievement, skimming over every one. "You know, this year will be quite the event. Barcelona—the first Sekai Taikai in Europe. They'll have a showcase of former champions to celebrate the expansion."
Silver took his leave and disappeared up the stairwell.
Former champions.
Feng stopped in front of the trophy case. He lingered by the section from 2016, eyes drawn to the one team photo he'd always avoided—eighteen-year-old Jackie grinning brightly beside him, cheeks flushed with her excitement while she proudly held her trophy.
He didn't want Jackie on his mind at all. But with Silver mentioning this champions' showcase—how could he not be thinking of her? Would she even be considered?
For almost four years, she'd stayed away. The 2018 Sekai Taikai passed without her even as a spectator. Seven circuits Feng continued competing in that she could have been eligible for, and she never once appeared.
Don't dwell on it. You don't want her to be there. She won't.
He turned away to focus on the students filing in, to prepare them to win. To take his life back with a clean slate.
Upstairs, Silver set himself up in Feng's office—his office for the time being—waiting for a call. A copy of previous Sekai Taikai records sat nearby on the desk. He opened his laptop and a browser and typed 'Rojas-Pierce' into the search bar.
No social media accounts existed under the surname. An independent wildlife blog written by a random mother popped up as the first result:
"Jackie Rojas-Pierce has been hands-on in wildlife since she could walk..."
He clicked into the link and scrolled, pausing once he found Jackie's picture. In uniform under a palo verde tree, with a long ponytail through a ball cap and a soft smile, hints of tattoos on her toned arms and legs.
December 2019, Havasu National Wildlife Refuge.
"Wow." Silver's eyes traced over her, lips twisted into a slow, thoughtful smile as he reclined in the chair.
"Jackie 'Fuego' Rojas. Aren't you a PR dream..."
Cole said his goodbyes to his family again, looking back at Allison, who stood on the porch with her arm around Emily, before he stepped through the portal back to Raiden's Temple.
It was quiet at the temple now, the torches starting to light as the rest of the champions were sitting to eat. Cole just skipped it tonight, letting himself have the silent victory for Zali choosing something better for herself and their crew.
Two 'normal' days. That was it.
Raiden returned mid-morning, appearing just as Kano was rapid-firing his laser at ice targets Kuai Liang kept launching.
Raiden always had a stern countenance. But Cole clocked this one as even grimmer than usual.
"Hey," Cole called out to everyone, gesturing to them to stop what they were doing.
They gathered in the courtyard to meet Raiden and get the news. Raiden's eyes lingered on Kuai Liang, knowing and assessing, before he addressed the others.
"The former Lin Kuei are seeking an artifact we believed was already destroyed. The Soul Kamidogu."
"Man, someone get me a notebook. This drama's pure Oscar material," Johnny said, being ignored by everyone except Liu and Sonya.
"This was the same crystal Shang Tsung rewarded Bi-Han for murdering Hanzo Hasashi. The soul magic that extended his life and granted him the power to travel the realms at will. Whether Sektor wishes to ally herself with Outworld or use the kamidogu to her own ends remains to be seen."
"Either way, we can't sit around waiting to find out," Jax shook his head.
Cole considered it, arms crossed. "Alright. We stick to the same plan—just like when we're looking for champions. Three of us will go scope this place out."
Kano grinned, clapping his hands and rubbing them together greedily. "Alright, treasure huntin's right up me alley. See what else they got out hidin' in there."
Kuai was quieter than usual, arms folded, glancing away before he spoke up. "I know where she'd be searching. The crystal was sacred to the Lin Kuei. Even in defeat, Sektor still believes she's Bi-Han's rightful successor."
"I'm in," Jax assured.
"Kano, you stay put." Cole nodded to Jax and Kuai. "Gear up. We leave in ten."
"Horseshit," Kano spat. "Fine. I'll be sleepin' easy while you three get eaten by the fuckin' Blair Witch."
Cole rolled his eyes and started walking away. "Good. 'Cause it's the only time you manage to shut the fuck up."
The ten minutes ticked by. Jax sidled up next to Cole as Kuai Liang emerged from the corridor.
"You think it's a trap," Jax murmured.
Cole sighed. "It's crossed my mind. The threat's real enough. Last thing we need is anyone opening portals and making things worse."
Jax clapped him reassuringly on the shoulder, voice low. "If we have to handle him, I got your back, champ." With that, he headed over to where Raiden waited to open the portal.
Sonya appeared with three earpieces and handed them out. "I'll track you from here. Keep your heads on a swivel out there, guys."
Raiden stepped forward. He outstretched his hand, summoning the portal in a crackle of energy. "Have faith in one another. Find the Kamidogu. Destroy it."
"Let's do this," Cole said and walked through first.
↫↬
Zali's eyelids felt heavy as she blinked away the last bit of sleep.
She sat up and looked around. No dizziness. Nothing hurt. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, still wrapping her head around the potency of the remedy she'd taken. The last two days had been hell.
Finally, she stood and opened the window. Birds sang outside. The sun on her skin felt hotter than she could remember.
Everything through Zali's perception felt eerily clear. She realized now that she probably hadn't experienced life like this since she was a kid.
A plain green t-shirt and a pair of black joggers were laid out on the arm of the couch-bed. She picked them up and headed to the bathroom. After a shower, she caught her reflection in the mirror: clean, inside and out. At least physically. But she'd take that for now.
She could hear talking and the sizzle of food cooking in the kitchen, and reluctantly made her way out.
Emily looked up from her breakfast. Allison was over the stove, assessing Zali and smiling.
"Oh, good, they fit. Wasn't sure what size you were. Those were the stretchiest things I had."
The scent of frying bacon hit Zali so sharply that she was a little too distracted to respond.
"How are you feeling?" Allison paused to make sure Zali was alright.
"Uh," Zali furrowed her brows. A word wasn't coming, but not because of fog-brain this time. "Normal?"
The coffee maker's beeps came through a little too shrill in Zali's ears, and she felt her shoulders tense.
Allison grabbed a mug and filled it with fresh coffee. "You must be starving."
"Nah, I'm good," Zali said, faster than she meant to. She shoved her hands in her pockets and looked away, almost shyly. Then her stomach growled loudly.
"Really. It's no trouble. Have a seat." Allison set the mug down at an empty spot at the table for Zali and grabbed the coffee creamer.
Zali bit the inside of her cheek and did as she was told. She pulled her seat forward and added a splash of cream to her coffee.
Emily was cutting into a pancake. "You look different," she noted.
"Yeah. Don't do drugs, kid," Zali muttered, scoffing as she took a sip—mostly to have something to do—but burned her tongue. She tried hard not to react.
Emily leaned forward, pointing with her fork. "Y'know, that's the only mug Dad uses. He'd be losing it if he were here."
Allison gave Emily the look while making Zali a plate. "I'd hardly call it 'losing it,' Em. Besides, that's just what he told you since you already broke his actual favorite mug."
Emily shrugged with a grin.
Once the plate was in front of her, Zali scarfed it down, then helped herself to seconds—and thirds.
"Wow. Do you do food-eating contests too?" Emily asked.
Allison covered her mouth and laughed. "Honey, cut it out."
Zali couldn't help smirking at Emily, even with her mouth full, rolling her eyes.
"Been a while since I had a real appetite."
↫↬
The forest was dense in the Mongolian Altai, even darker under the cover of night, with hardly a flash of moonlight breaking through, the air biting cold, the last of the static fizzling out behind them.
"Blade, you copy?" Jax spoke, testing the earpiece.
"Loud and clear, Major," Sonya replied in their ears.
Cole looked to Kuai. "You said you know where Sektor's headed, you take point."
Kuai gave a slight nod and moved ahead, leading the way.
Jax and Cole exchanged glances, neither one eager to trust Kuai with their backs.
"I've got you in Mongolia, east of Khuder, heading toward the Russian border. Don't know how much help I'll be. Can't see anything other than trees on my end," Sonya's voice came through the earpiece.
"The ruins of Zhu Xin are due east," Kuai replied.
"I'll see what I can dig up. For now, you're on your own."
They continued forward through the thick underbrush, stepping as lightly as possible, but twigs still snapped, and leaves crunched beneath their feet.
"Zhu Xin. You've been here before?" Cole asked.
"Only once. It's well hidden," Kuai replied. "This is where Bi-Han trained before he became Grandmaster."
"Hope that means we're on the right track." Cole took a deep breath, fighting off the shiver.
Finally, an opening in the tree line to a plaza, moss and ice clinging to the glyphs carved in stone. There on the platform stood a figure, covered in red metallic armor.
"I've been expecting you... champions."
She faced them. Her mask whirred, gears turning as it retracted from her face. Her eyes were empty and mechanical, locking on Kuai, black and green wiring streaking beneath the last of her skin like veins.
"The Lin Kuei was always meant to evolve into perfection. You were meant to be perfected—to surpass Bi-Han, to become a cyber Sub-Zero. You have no right to carry the dragon medallion as you are, Kuai Liang."
"Seika... please," Kuai's voice was low. "This was never what we wanted. You're not too far gone to stop this madness."
"Seika is dead!" she shouted, her voice echoing with both fury and distortion. "She withered away in the weakness of her flesh. There is only Sektor. And with the Soul Kamidogu, I'll end all flesh—first, in Earthrealm, then Outworld."
"So be it," Kuai said, no hesitation in his voice.
Two robotic arms unfolded from her back, shooting flames in a wide arc before her.
Two figures emerged from the cavern behind her: a cyborg nearly identical in yellow—Cyrax—and another with grey hair and a grey mask, cybernetics grafted to his skin, and the kamidogu tucked into his belt. Jax and Kuai ran after the pair.
Cole blocked the flames and closed in on Sektor. He took two swings at her with his tonfa, and she propelled herself backward, a blast from her feet.
She straightened, lips smug. "The heir of the Shirai Ryu. Fitting to spill Hasashi blood for the crystal once more. And only one child left to eliminate after you."
Cole smirked, striking the chestplate of his armor, igniting it with a burning orange glow. "Not bleeding yet. Let's see how far you get."
She scowled, closing her mask and charging forward.
↫↬
Emily was sitting on the floor between the couch and coffee table, her legs crossed underneath it, with a trunk filled with various craft supplies. She had a few different materials spread across the tabletop. She seemed unable to decide what she wanted to do. She had a vinyl cord and started box-weaving it into a keychain.
"Craft stores stay in business with you, I bet." Zali sat across from her on the floor.
"I wanna work on something bigger, just can't decide what," Emily's brows furrowed while her fingers kept moving.
Zali skimmed the supplies on the table before picking up a green and a pink cord. She slipped the elastic from her low ponytail and put it on her wrist, dividing her hair and starting to weave the cords into a braid.
She hadn't noticed how intently Emily had been watching her do it.
"That's so cool. How'd you learn to do that?"
"Learned from an old woman who braided the kids' hair at a park in Corozal. It's a little beach city in Belize. I was prob'y a little younger than you." Zali finished it off with her hair tie. "Works better with thread, honestly."
Emily opened another compartment in the chest and, with a smile, pulled out small rubber bands and a handful of threads of cloth. "Like these?"
Zali arched a brow. "I'm scared to know what else you got in there."
"Can you do my hair?"
Zali hesitated a moment, but nodded lightly and pushed herself up. She settled in on the edge of the couch behind Emily.
"And I get to do yours next," Emily held her hand up to pass Zali the threads and bands.
Zali snorted. "Why do I have to be the guinea pig?"
Emily giggled, going back to her current project, sitting still as Zali gently parted her hair with her fingers.
↫↬
Rubble fell in piles around the structure as Earthrealm's champions battled the cyborgs.
Kuai faced off with Smoke, searching his friend's eyes for a hint of humanity. Smoke was only in the early stages of cyberization, but Sektor's control over him was absolute. His twin karambit knives whirled between his fingers in a blur of silver and speed.
"Fight it, Tomas," Kuai urged, dodging and weaving through the flurry of blades. He kept the knives at bay with sharp bursts of ice—freezing Smoke's arm, then his leg, locking him in place. Kuai knocked him out cold and snatched the crystal from his belt.
Across the battlefield, Jax tore through the net Cyrax launched at him. Her abdomen split open, buzzing with a hidden saw blade. Jax sidestepped at the last moment, his cybernetic fingers locking on and ripping the saw free—but he missed the small bomb that bounced to his feet.
Kuai rushed in, sending a blast of ice. The bomb froze solid just as it exploded, shards scattering harmlessly across the ground.
Jax didn't hesitate. He surged forward, tearing exposed wiring from the base of Cyrax's neck. Sparks shot out, coiling around her shoulders.
Cyrax jerked, her body glitching as she dropped to her knees, staring down at her only functioning hand.
"Where? What... is this?" she stammered, touching her abdomen—a gaping, sparking wound. "N—N—no."
Kuai dropped to one knee in front of her. "Cyrax, can you hear me?"
"Kuai Liang?" Her voice was robotic, but thick with emotion.
"Forgive me, my friend. It should never have come to this."
Kuai rose and pressed the kamidogu into Jax's palm, his gaze steady. "Get Tomas and Cyrax to safety. They never chose to be... this. Destroy the kamidogu once you're clear." He glanced up, watching Cole locked in combat with Sektor. "We'll put an end to her."
Jax nodded, voice respectful. "You got it, Grandmaster. See you on the other side."
Kuai formed an ice ramp and collided with Sektor from behind, knocking her to the ground. He landed beside Cole.
With a roaring blast from her palms, Sektor propelled herself upright—now facing the new era of Shirai Ryu and Lin Kuei, side by side.
"Abomination." A machine gun ejected from her ribs, spitting round after round.
Kuai formed a wall of ice shielding them from the bullets.
"I just need one clean shot," Cole muttered.
"You'll have it," Kuai replied.
As the ammunition clicked empty, Kuai shattered the wall.
Cole, with his bladed tonfa, severed Sektor in half. Kuai's ice spear impaled her head through her abdomen. Her mask still covered her face. There was no blood; only oil seeped out, dripping slowly down the spear and pooling on the ground beneath her.
Cole and Kuai stood panting, still on alert. When Sektor didn't move, they exchanged nods. Cole went to Jax, while Kuai lingered, staring at the remains of the one he used to trust most.
He joined Cole and Jax.
"The kamidogu won't be a problem anymore," Jax said.
"Hey, Kuai. You alright?" Cole asked, concern in his tone.
Kuai's voice was quiet. "Many among our clan are orphans. Tomas became Smoke. Cyrax never knew another name—only what the Lin Kuei gave her. Our creed commanded us not to have attachments. No friendships, or..." His jaw ticked as he hesitated. "We always wanted to reform the Lin Kuei together. But Seika's ambition twisted her—her need for control, then perfection."
It was the first flicker of emotion the others had seen from him.
"I'm sorry, Kuai," Cole said quietly. "That couldn't have been easy for you."
"There's no need." Kuai shook his head lightly. "Seika has been dead for a long time."
Jax smirked. "Regular folks just say thanks, man."
The corner of Kuai Liang's mouth twitched, almost a smile. "I will remember that. It was an honor to fight alongside you both."
Cyrax approached the trio, heavily damaged but still functioning.
"I may only be a shell now, but... I still feel. My soul remains. Tomas may still have a chance to be brought back whole. We will return to Sektor's laboratory."
Cyrax straightened, saluting Kuai Liang in their tradition. "I will do everything in my power to restore him, Grandmaster. For the Lin Kuei. For your Lin Kuei."
Kuai Liang returned the gesture as Raiden's portal formed nearby.
↫↬
Zali was lying on the couch bed in the den, her brain making pictures from the drywall texture on the ceiling, fingertips drumming out a beat on her stomach. She had no idea what to do with the time. She'd already seen where the laundry room was and figured she could do her laundry.
Zali started pulling her clothes out of the bag and stopped.
Allison was on her laptop at the countertop, looking confused when Zali approached with her backpack. Zali reached in, piling five thickly banded rolls of cash in front of her. "Here."
Allison gawked at the money, wide-eyed, and sat up straighter. "That's, wow, Zali. I can't take all that."
"No, for real, keep it... I wouldn't be doin' anything good with it anyway," Zali shrugged.
She watched Allison's stunned expression. Letting go of the cash felt strange—almost too easy. Gratitude wasn't a language Zali spoke, not unless she expected something in return. But maybe that was the point. This was the first time she could remember giving something away just because she could.
Allison nodded, giving Zali's arm a squeeze in thanks. Zali walked back to put the bag away and start washing her clothes, leaving Allison staring at the pile of money on her countertop.
A few hours later, in the living room, Zali saw Cole through the window as he stepped through Raiden's portal. He just stood there for a moment, running a hand through his hair and sighing.
The sunset through a gap in the trees shone a glowing spotlight on him, and didn't even seem like the guy from her memory; he was more vivid, more detailed. Her breath felt like it wasn't coming, and her heart started racing.
Today was a lot. Prob'ly just anxiety... Yeah, anxiety.
Zali turned away from the window and sat down on the couch. She tapped her nails on her glass of water, the faint clink filling the silence.
The front door creaked briefly as Cole entered, but she didn't turn to look at him.
"Glad to see you're still alive," she said, sipping from her glass.
"Could say the same about you," he flopped down on the opposite end of the couch and dropped his head back with a groan. "I'm crashing here tonight. Just got done handling some real Skynet and Hogwarts shit."
"Had to go heads up with T-1000 and his house elf, huh?" She clocked the gash on the side of his lip and the darkening bruise along his jaw.
Cole turned his head to look at her, narrowing his eyes slightly, now noticing the chill clothes, bare feet, and different colored threads in the small braids scattered around her hair.
"Not looking very punk rock over there, Guerrero. It's kinda weird."
She smirked, looking back at the sports recap on the muted TV. "Tell anyone, they'll never find your body, cabrón."
"Ain't the worst threat I've heard today," he muttered with a tired smile, chuckling, eyes closing, ready to fall asleep right there.
She stayed, catching the shift of his breathing once he'd actually drifted off. The wood floor creaked in the hallway as Allison appeared in the living room.
"He's out," Zali snorted quietly, standing to walk her empty glass to the sink.
Allison went up to him, brushing stray strands of hair from his forehead before slipping the blanket off the back of the couch and covering him with it.
Zali watched for only a moment before dropping her eyes, a sense that she was intruding on something private. For a second, she wondered what it might feel like to belong somewhere like that. But she knew better than to reach for things she didn't deserve.
She busied herself washing the used glass, setting it carefully in the rack to dry.
Keeping her head down, Zali walked back to the den, still not over the strangeness of her new normal.
↫↫↫↫↫↫↫↫↫↫֍•֎↬↬↬↬↬↬↬↬↬↬
𝕀'𝕞 𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕪𝕠𝕦, 𝕀 𝕘𝕠 𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙 𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕤𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕀 𝕨𝕣𝕠𝕥𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕝𝕪, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕀 𝕔𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕕.
𝕊𝕦𝕣𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕪𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕠𝕟𝕖. ℤ𝕒𝕝𝕚'𝕤 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕒 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕥, 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝕦𝕟𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕.
A soft, rhythmic sound like a distant heartbeat pulsed gently in Jackie's mind. Blurrier, bluish-grey wisps drifted above her, blending with the fog that clouded her vision.
She blinked, struggling against heavy eyelids. As her surroundings sharpened into focus, she saw she was lying on her back on the roof, partly on the mat and partly on the cold surface.
A groan slipped out as her awareness gradually emerged.
What happened? Was I up here all night?
The questions echoed nonstop in her mind.
Rolling onto her side, she winced at the crunch of broken glass under her arm. Sticky beer residue clung to her skin, mixing with the metallic taste of blood lingering in her mouth.
"Fuck," she hissed as shards pierced her skin.
Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself onto her hands and knees, shaking her head to clear the fog, only to regret the dizziness that followed.
After the world had stopped spinning, she inhaled shakily and looked around, trying to piece together what had happened the night before.
Her phone lay broken on the mat nearby, with shards of glass from beer bottles scattered across the floor.
She carefully reached for her phone, seeing her reflection in the screen—her busted bottom lip and the bruise stretching across her cheek.
Okay, slowly, she told herself, slipping the phone into her pocket as she stood.
Once Jackie had stabilized herself enough, she staggered to the bench, taking a moment to sit and focusing on her breathing, hoping to process everything.
Take a sec. You need to chill.
She looked to her side. Thankfully, her journal rested there, untouched.
Jackie couldn't remember everything clearly, only brief moments.
The memory skipped like a frayed film reel—
"Get her up," Mihaela demanded, her face obscured by the darkness of her hoodie.
Jackie tried to force her mind to complete the puzzle of events: Mihaela's bo staff pressing against her chin, the sharp pain as she was forced to her knees, and the laughter reverberating in her ears. The shame of being overpowered gnawed at her.
That bitch. Jackie fumed as the images continued to surface, slowly taking shape in her mind.
Shattering glass rang out alongside the cracks and thuds of bo staves, each sound a painful reminder of the chaos that had unfolded. Harsh words echoed in her ears, kicks to the gut left her breathless, and the mockery as everything around her was wrecked.
"This is your last warning." Mihaela knelt in front of her, a menacing figure looming. "Pack your shit and go home." Jackie flailed in their grip in desperation as Mihaela stood, wound up, and swung.
The sun rose higher on the horizon, illuminating the clouds in pinks and oranges, but Jackie felt too numb to truly appreciate the view.
She forced herself back up, journal in hand, and carefully gripped the railing as she moved toward the stairwell. Each step brought new aches, and she winced, unaware of the glass splinters embedded in her arm.
Anxiety crashed over her as she reached for the door handle. Their rooms were nearby. What if they heard her? Three against one again when she was as weak as she was at that moment.
She pushed the door open carefully and made her way down. The last thing she needed was to fall down the stairs off balance. She leaned against the wall, choking back a sob from the glass digging further into her flesh.
Jackie held her breath, steadying her hands as she slipped the key into her door. She closed it softly behind her with a click and sank to sit on the floor, her back against the door, palms flat on the cold tile. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her bottom lip trembling. She drifted into a daze, fluttering her eyes open again as the room brightened further.
C'mon, get up.
Jackie used the doorknob to pull herself up, trying to gather herself.
Pain. Something for the pain.
She made her way to the kitchen and flung open the cabinet by the fridge where she kept her medicine. She took four ibuprofen pills and drank water straight from the sink, letting it dribble down her chin. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, noticing that the blood on her arm was already reaching her wrist.
Steadying herself with a hand along the wall to reach the bathroom, she turned on the shower. As the water heated, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Blood stained the front of her shirt, a welt was forming on her temple, and dried blood streaked down from her lip.
Mihaela's gonna look so much worse once I'm finished with her.
Jacke grabbed tweezers, stepped into the shower, and sat on the floor. Water ran over her. Blood, dirt, and beer spiraled down the drain.
As she worked to remove shards from her skin, choppy memories of the attack flooded her mind, echoing in her ears. Rage boiled inside her, fueling her determination. One recurring thought pushed her forward: I'm not missing this fight.
Feng shifted in his bed, still feeling the fog of last night's overindulgence. Despite that, his night with Jackie on the dojo's roof played back, every detail clear. Jackie's carefree laughter, hauntingly refusing to fade, stayed as an uninvited memory.
He rubbed his temple, trying to clear the dull buzz clouding his judgment.
Being vulnerable makes you weak, he told himself, to strengthen his defenses. But Jackie, effortlessly enough, had begun to chip away at those defenses.
The image of her standing on the mat, the moment her insecurities surfaced while the lantern light softly highlighted her features, stayed with him.
When he told her she wasn't disappointing, he truly believed it, seeing so much more in her than she saw herself, and that realization scared him.
He crossed boundaries—professional and ethical ones. Still, Jackie's resilience and determination drew him in. Jackie had changed significantly in just a few months, growing beyond the kid he had decided to take a chance on.
What's wrong with you? She's too young to know better. Too fucking dangerous.
Feng sat up, fingers tracing the beaded Shaolin necklace on his nightstand—a tangible reminder of discipline and boundaries. What would his Sensei say about these feelings? About a 23-year-old mentor developing something... complicated for a student?
The weight of his thoughts became suffocating. He needed a distraction to break the cycle of overthinking, to reset, and to remind himself of who he truly was—a fighter, a winner. Not a sorry excuse of a man hung up over a schoolboy crush.
He grabbed his phone, his thumb hovering over his contacts, stopping at an acquaintance who represented everything uncomplicated—no strings, no emotions.
Meili. It's been a while.
He sent her a text, and Meili called back immediately.
Perfect. A smirk tugged at his lips as he let it ring a few times before answering, already planning how to use this encounter to force Jackie out of his mind.
"Hey. Yeah? I'll be right over," he said, maintaining his tone deliberately casual despite the fleeting doubt that nagged at him.
Maybe this is a mistake.
But he pushed the thought aside with practiced ease, reminding himself that he always did what he needed to do.
Feng got out of bed, opened the curtains, and started preparing for the day. The mid-morning sunlight streaming through the mansion's windows highlighted his luxurious surroundings—a symbol of his wealth and success.
However, as he wandered through his home, casually inspecting the lavish decor and spacious rooms, a sense of emptiness began to bother him. A grandeur that felt hollow and cold stood in sharp contrast to the warmth he secretly hoped for.
Once he was ready to go, he headed to the front door and quickly got into his car. The drive to his destination was short, but his thoughts drifted back to Jackie.
He imagined her embarrassed smile, her eyes shining as he brushed her hair from her face.
Shit. Not again. Focus.
Feng parked his car, tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, then got out and went to the door. He rang the bell, which was answered almost immediately by a woman with deep mahogany eyes and raven-black hair. She gave a seductive smile and stepped aside, inviting him into her stylish, modern penthouse.
A faint sense of relief washed over him as he stepped through the door. Meili took his hand and led him into her bedroom. Feng had a few hours to drown Jackie out of his mind.
Still, as he followed Meili, the tightness in his chest persisted, constantly reminding him that he might never fully escape his feelings.
As Jackie stepped downstairs into the dojo, the atmosphere instantly sparked with energy. Students moved around, some whispering, others giving her wary glances.
Jackie felt the weight of their stares—a mix of curiosity and judgment.
They still think I don't belong here, but she stood taller, pushing the feeling down—time to prove them wrong.
Zara and Axel approached to greet her, noticing her slightly disheveled appearance as they got closer.
"Hey, Jackie... You alright?" Zara looked her up and down, eyes wide, seeing the gash on her mouth.
"What happened?" Axel asked, placing a hand on her shoulder as he looked at her face.
Jackie ignored their questions, her eyes fixed on Mihaela and Jian across the room. Their sinister smirks hinted they thought she was now an easy target. But Jackie squared her shoulders, ready to show them otherwise.
Axel and Zara looked over their shoulders, following Jackie's gaze.
"Jackie, what happened?" Axel asked again. "What did they do?"
"Don't worry about it," she snapped, brushing past them without a glance.
Marching over to the mat, her heart pounding in sync with the throbbing in her head. Zara and Axel were confused but followed close behind, ready to back her up if needed.
"Wow," Mihaela taunted with a disdainful chuckle. "Rough night, Rojas?"
Jackie sensed the contempt coming from her.
Esta cabrona won't know what hit her.
Jackie clenched her fists, itching to flatten Mihaela out where she stood.
"I knew you were stupid, Jackie," Mihaela laughed right in her face. "But this takes it to a whole new level."
Jackie shoved her, adrenaline rushing. "See how much you laugh after I break your fucking jaw."
"That's enough, Rojas." Jackie hadn't noticed that Sensei Wolf had already entered the dojo, his presence commanding.
The girls straightened up, and the other students dispersed, sensing the tension in the air. Jackie and Mihaela moved to the center of the mat without being told.
He noticed Jackie was tense, staring ahead, trying to hide whatever she kept bottled up inside. That's when his eyes moved to her injured bottom lip.
When did that happen? He had to shake it off mentally; now wasn't the time to bring it up.
"Whatever issue you have with each other," Feng's voice interrupted the noise. "It gets settled now," he ordered, looking between the two and backing away. "No holding back. You finish it."
Jackie cracked her neck and knuckles, her Sensei's words fueling her raging inner fire.
Oh, this bitch is finished. Trust that.
Jackie's adrenaline surged as the match started. She charged at Mihaela, throwing punches meant to cause maximum damage. Each strike reignited the pain and humiliation from the night before.
Mihaela skillfully dodged Jackie's initial attacks, but Jackie remained relentless. She pushed forward, fists pounding into Mihaela's torso, each punch fueled by past assaults and unchecked anger.
The force of Jackie's punches shook Mihaela, who stumbled back, momentarily caught off guard by her ferocity. Mihaela glanced toward Jian with worried eyes just as Jackie's fist connected with her left eye, producing a satisfying thud.
Mihaela covered her face, blundering into a defensive stance. Jackie retreated, arms at her sides, pacing like a lioness ready to tear into her prey.
"Take all the time you need," Jackie spat, her voice thick with sarcasm. "We've got a long way to go before I'm done with you."
Wow. Jackie's pissed. Feng noticed the fire driving her impressive determination—if only it were more refined, she could be a champion.
However, her movements had minor missteps and a noticeable sway, the imbalance clearly reflecting her overly emotional state.
Suddenly, Mihaela charged at Jackie, but Jackie swept her to the ground. Mihaela rolled away as Jackie's missed strikes hit the mat.
Mihaela kicked toward Jackie's face. Jackie blocked, but Mihaela connected with a kick to her stomach. Jackie fell onto her back, slapping the mat with her palms as she scrambled back to her feet.
The two exchanged a flurry of hits and blocks. Jackie pulled back and delivered a sharp headbutt, which blurred her vision. Luckily, she had a little time to recover as Mihaela dropped down.
"Get up, puta!"
Jackie grabbed Mihaela by the back of her gi, almost tossing her across the mat to force her to stand.
"You're not gettin' off that easy."
Mihaela's eyes widened. Jackie resumed her assault, using her elbows and knees up close until Mihaela could no longer defend herself and finally collapsed, winded. Jackie pounced, climbing onto her and pinning her down.
Her vision narrowed, focused on Mihaela's face as Jackie balled her fists and swung. All the pain in her body only heightened her rage, and she fought through the haze of adrenaline.
"Not yet, you aren't," Jackie growled, continuing her onslaught, unsatisfied with Mihaela's punishment.
Jackie was the clear winner, but the fight ended when Jian intervened. He rushed in and knocked Jackie off her feet. He quickly checked to see if Mihaela was okay, but Jackie's instincts took over before he could evaluate her.
Jackie lunged at Jian, tackling him and launching a fierce flurry of fists and elbows. Two people then pulled her away.
Axel stood in front of Jian, who looked both surprised and defensive, as Feng grabbed Jackie's arm to separate them.
"Let me go!" Jackie shouted, struggling against Feng's grip, eager to resume pummeling Jian.
He pulled away further to reduce the chance of her attacking him again.
"Calm down," Feng said as he stepped in front of her, blocking her view of Jian.
Jackie's eyes flashed angrily as she pulled away from Feng's grasp.
"Don't tell me to calm down!" she barked back, wild fury in her eyes, throwing her hands up. "They fucking jumped me on the roof last night!"
Then it clicked. The wound on her lip, her sweat erasing the hastily applied makeup, hiding the bruises on her face. Feng turned around and locked eyes with Jian, who maintained a fearful expression, still leaning down by Mihaela.
I need to get this under control.
He faced Jackie again. "Go wait in the office," he said, his tone sharp.
Jackie wasn't listening to him, her chest heaving as she stared at Jian, who was still trying to steady himself. Just wait till I get my hands on you.
"Rojas," Feng snapped his fingers a few times in front of her face to snap her out of her trance. "Office. Now."
Jackie hesitated, her anger clashing with his commanding tone. She wanted to argue, to push back, but the weight of his gaze kept her silent, a reminder of her proper role in the dojo despite the mixed feelings she had for him.
"Fine," she spat, her voice low, the fight draining from her.
She spun around and stormed off, her head swimming from anger and confusion at being singled out, the tension in the air growing thick.
As she turned to leave, Feng watched her go with a scowl, making sure she obeyed him. He then went back to the dojo, his expression growing even more intense.
Jackie went up the stairs. She had fought hard to prove herself, but the aftermath of the fight made her feel like her insecurities were exposed for all to see.
Downstairs, the dojo was quiet except for Mihaela's sniffles. Jian helped her up as the other students shifted nervously around the mat, anxious about what might come next after the recent chaos. They avoided eye contact with each other and especially with their Sensei, who stood at the front of the class, visibly upset.
"Line up," Feng commanded, his voice echoing off the walls.
The students exchanged nervous glances but obeyed—a murmur of shame spread through the group. Feng's gaze hardened as he continued.
"Someone better start talking," he demanded, his voice low and dangerous, leaving no room for defiance.
In the office, Jackie leaned against the desk, her breathing ragged. The adrenaline from the fight still energized her, but it was gradually fading, replaced by a deep anxiety that burned in her stomach.
Her perception of time felt fuzzy. She became uncomfortably hot and peeled off the top half of her gi, tossing it onto an office chair, before adjusting her black sleeveless compression shirt.
Feng opened the door with a serious look. "Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm fine," she muttered, staring out the window, barely able to get the words out.
Feng moved closer, fighting the concern that threatened to break through his guarded exterior. His eyes quickly looked over the bruises on her face, then moved to her freshly exposed arm, which had three large bandages.
All of these injuries weren't there last night. He realized he should have made sure she was safe back in her apartment before he left for home.
He slammed the door behind him, with the sound echoing through the large office.
"Why didn't you tell me what was going on with them?" he demanded, his voice sharp and accusatory.
Jackie crossed her arms, defiance clear on her face. "It was under control—"
"Obviously not," Feng snapped, cutting her off before she could say anything more.
Jackie opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted again.
"You're lucky you're not in the hospital or worse!" Feng began to pace, moving his hands to emphasize his words.
"I get—" she attempted to speak, but he ignored her.
"I need to know what happens in my dojo!" Feng moved closer, stalking forward.
Jackie's voice trembled with frustration as she shouted, "Are you gonna let me talk, or am I just your punching bag?"
As they stared each other down, the room grew cold, and the warmth Jackie once shared with him disappeared.
Her mind raced with doubt: You imagined it. He doesn't care about you. Why would he?
Alright, shut up for a second. Let her speak. Feng set his hands on his hips and waited.
"It wasn't a problem anymore, till last night," she said.
"That's still no excuse to keep it to yourself!"
"Oh sure," Jackie rolled her eyes, anger bubbling. "Run and tell you 'cause I can't stand up for myself? Pobrecita Jackie, just like everyone else thinks of me, right?"
"Damn it, Jackie, I would have handled it before it got worse! There has to be some level of trust here."
"Fuck that," she scoffed. "I don't need anyone to take care of me."
Feng clenched his jaw and stepped back, struggling to control his anger. "Let's get one thing straight. I'm not your friend. I'm your Sensei. Show some respect."
"Chíngate!" Jackie barked back.
"I understand Spanish, too!"
"Fantastic! Saves me the trouble of translating!" she pushed off the desk.
Dizziness overtook her, and she stumbled slightly, gripping the desk for support. "Whoa..."
Feng moved to her side, gripping her arm to steady her, his anger giving way to concern. "Take it easy."
"I'm good," Jackie insisted, holding her head with one hand and waving him off with the other, though her voice wavered.
"Oh yeah? So you didn't almost fall over?" He held onto her, guiding her to the sofa. "Sit."
"I'm just a little lightheaded, okay?" Jackie resisted but eventually sat down. "It's not a big deal."
"Not a big deal?" Feng headed back to his desk, leaned against it, and grabbed his phone, quickly scrolling through it. "You just got hit in the head multiple times, and now you're lightheaded. That's not something to ignore."
"Oh, c'mon. It's prob'ly just the hangover," Jackie said, trying to downplay her symptoms. "Just get me some water or somethin'."
Feng shot back, his tone flat. "Right. Because water will fix a concussion," while rolling his eyes and dialing a number. "You need to get checked out."
"Seriously?" she grumbled. "You're overreacting."
"'Overreacting,' says the one with insane mood swings and about to pass out. Do you want me to list the rest of the symptoms I've seen from you?"
"When did you become a doctor?" Jackie sighed, rubbing her temples. "Whatever, just make it quick. Don't know what I'd do with myself if I missed the next round of dojo drama."
Feng glanced at her, both amused and frustrated. "You're unbelievable."
"Pft, you like it, don't lie," she smirked.
"Like it? More like I'm stuck with it," he muttered, though a faint smile appeared in his eyes as he continued talking on the phone, arranging for someone to check on her.
As he spoke, Jackie sank further into the chair, with the adrenaline from the fight gradually fading. She observed him, noting his brow furrowed in concentration, and for a moment, their heated exchange felt like a distant memory.
"He'll be here as soon as possible," Feng said, ending the call. He placed his phone down, went to the mini fridge near his desk, and grabbed an ice pack. Still not soon enough.
Jackie smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "So, do I get a pass to eat a gallon of ice cream tonight?"
"Just be thankful I'm here to save you from yourself," he retorted as he walked toward her.
"Sure," she drawled, "'cause you're so chivalrous and all," she said with a roll of her eyes, but couldn't hide the small smile forming at the corners of her lips.
"Not even close," Feng shook his head. He sat beside her, gently pressing the ice pack to her cheek, maintaining a slight distance while resting his other arm on the back of the sofa.
Jackie winced but didn't pull away. He noticed she was straining to keep her eyes open and probably couldn't stay upright much longer.
"Just relax, huǒ yàn. You're not invincible," he said, his tone firm yet gentle.
"I'm tougher than you think," she responded, her voice softening as she relaxed into the seat.
The room seemed to spin again. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she leaned her head back onto the sofa.
"Don't fall asleep, okay?" he whispered, trying to stay at a respectful distance. Every nerve and muscle in his body protested against his mind to close the gap between them.
Jackie felt her eyelids grow heavy. "Mmm... I'm trying," she murmured, lifting her head forward to comply, but the movement made her slightly nauseous.
Without thinking, Jackie lowered her head again, this time resting it on Feng's shoulder.
Feng tensed as he felt her weight pressing against him. He tried to shift slightly to make some space, but Jackie scooted closer, even as sleep tugged at her. Girl, you're killing me.
He knew she was disoriented and probably not intentionally leaning on him.
Reluctantly, he gently wrapped his arm around her to support her, moving the ice pack to her temple instead. His body stayed stiff, resisting the closeness of the moment. Okay. Keep it together. She needs you right now.
"I feel like shit," she mumbled, though her words slurred as she tasted a metallic flavor in her mouth. His shoulder was warm against her cheek, offering a comforting presence that made her want to stay close.
So do I. Feng swallowed hard, unease twisting in his gut from trying to push thoughts of her away that morning—with someone else.
Now, with her nestled against him, his heartbeat quickened. He cleared his throat, his voice softening as he struggled to keep himself in check.
"You know... I've never seen someone fight through a concussion as fiercely as you did today. You refused to let it break you."
Jackie's breathing became steady, a slight smile forming on her lips. Feng paused, every instinct torn between professional pride and something more profound.
Finally, as if weighing each word, he whispered, "If anyone deserved the win today—after everything you've gone through, it was you."
Jackie leaned in, pressing her forehead against his collar. "Learned from the best," she hummed, somewhat teasing.
Feng's heart ached with a mix of pride and guilt; the fact that Jackie thought so highly of him only made everything worse.
He gently squeezed her shoulder, silently accepting her compliment, fearing that speaking might reveal too much. He relaxed into the peaceful moment with her, even if just for a little while.
As the knock sounded, Jackie's head was still resting on him. She remained completely unaware of their surroundings.
"Jackie, wake up," Feng gently shook her shoulder, trying to wake her without startling her.
Jackie stirred, fluttering her eyes open briefly before closing them again.
"I'm tired..." she murmured to him, heavily exhausted.
"I know," Feng sighed.
Before answering the door, he tossed the ice pack onto the end table next to the sofa, then carefully helped Jackie sit up and steady herself.
"Don't move," he instructed calmly. "I'll be right back."
He stood up and walked to the door, letting the medic inside. Axel and Zara waited in the hallway.
"How is she?" Zara asked, concern clear on her face.
"We'll find out," Feng responded, opening the door wider for the pair to step in, appreciating their willingness to stand up for Jackie like they did.
The medic placed his bag on the floor near the sofa, kneeling beside Jackie to check her vitals. She fought to keep her eyes open, with each blink a challenge.
The medic gently pressed the welt on Jackie's cheek, causing discomfort. Then he tilted her head back, examining her pupils.
Stop moving my head, pendejo.
Jackie was done, ready to get to her bed and lie down, but she kept her mouth shut for the next few minutes so he could do his job.
"It's a mild concussion," he told Feng as he packed his bag and stood up. "Keep an eye on her for 24 hours. No karate for 5 to 7 days. Take her to the hospital if she gets any worse."
"I can stay with her," Zara offered as she approached the sofa, sat down next to Jackie, and took her hand.
Aw, didn't know Z could be sweet.
"Me too," Axel said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall as he watched Jackie.
Feng gave them an approving nod and thanked his medic friend as he departed.
Feng knelt before Jackie, bringing himself to her eye level. She sensed his gaze, even though he still hid behind his stoic mask. It made her feel vulnerable.
"Get some rest, Jackie. Can't have my captain in such a sorry state, can I?"
Jackie smiled as Axel and Zara helped her up and started guiding her to the door.
"Damn, from Ms. America to Captain America," Jackie chortled weakly. "I'm really moving up in the world."
Axel and Zara chuckled softly, getting the joke, while Feng just shook his head as the trio exited his office.
When the door shut, Feng exhaled a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He walked to the shelf behind his desk, poured himself a shot of whiskey, then sat in his chair.
His phone began to chime, so he lifted it—three texts from Meili.
Neon lights in the derelict warehouse bar flickered, casting a sickly blue glow over misfits and anarchists. Graffiti-covered walls chronicled lost battles, remnants of a city surrendered to crime and violence.
Smoke hung thick in the air, mingling with the scent of stale beer and sweat. Heavy metal churned through the room. This was the heart of the Red Dragon's territory, where loyalty had a price. Survival was never free.
Cole hovered near the back, half-blurred by blue neon and clouds of smoke, eyes tracking the stage. The bass thudded in his chest, but it wasn't just the music winding him up. He scanned the crowd—Red Dragon muscle at the bar, twitchy dealers, leather jackets and knives in holsters everywhere he looked.
He hated leaving Allison and Emily behind with nothing but cameras and sensors between them and the world. Was the tech at home actually holding? Was Jax really seeing everything he needed to?
But he was the one chosen to be here—the one who could blend in, make contact, find Zali. That didn't make him feel any less exposed. Every glare in the dark felt like a test.
Don't freeze, Cole. Focus. Don't screw this up.
As the band launched into their first song, the crowd erupted, a frenzy of cheers and moshing. Zali, behind her massive drum kit, was a whirlwind of energy. Her sticks flew with lightning speed, her feet pounding the double bass pedals in a rhythm that was both brutal and beautiful.
Damn, she's badass, Cole thought. It was clear her skill level was way beyond the rest of the members. For a moment, he couldn't tell where the music ended, and his heartbeat began.
But what if she won't join us? What if she's already too deep with the Red Dragon? The dead ends Cole, Sonya, and Jax kept hitting in their search for champions—literally one corpse after another—only raised the stakes for Zali. They'd gotten lucky with Johnny Cage, but even with him, Earthrealm was already grossly outnumbered.
From his perch along the wall, he watched her command the stage—tucked at the back behind her drum kit, sharp drum rolls, breezy smiles, flipping her hair like she didn't have a care in the world. It was nothing like the brusque, guarded woman he'd been keeping tabs on all night.
What drove her? Was that fear behind every glance over her shoulder, every tremor in her hands when she thought no one noticed? Since sunset, he'd been drawn to the mystery beneath her tough exterior—a sense she was cornered, running out of exits.
Zali's performance was electric, igniting the room like wildfire. As the song peaked, she unleashed a rapid-fire drum solo that sent the crowd into a frenzy.
For her, playing for the Red Dragon was more than a gig; it was a lifeline—shows, money, drugs became ways to escape her past. Now and then, in rare moments of clarity, she recognized the toll—the way this life kept dragging her back into the dark she'd tried to outrun.
Cole's heart raced; thunderous drums echoed his tension. Allison's smile and Emily's laughter anchored him. He couldn't shake the risk—being here felt like betting everything on a single bad hand.
When the set ended, Zali hopped off stage, flushed with sweat. As the cheers faded, she stood still for a moment, closing her eyes to savor the adrenaline. When she reopened them, she spotted a pair of Red Dragons across the room, their predatory stares fixed on her. Her posture tensed as she gripped her drumsticks tighter, bracing herself.
The looks she'd been getting from the Red Dragon over the past week ranged from curiosity to suspicion—probably the result of out-partying their elite and somehow catching an exclusive invite before some fully-fledged members did.
She shook her head, then quickened her pace, weaving around tables as she made her way to the bathroom. Her gaze darted over the crowd, searching for threats. The unease persisted; she cast a glance over her shoulder, alert for anyone following.
As she pushed open the bathroom door, the fluorescent lights blinked overhead. Inside, she quickly pulled out a small baggie, her hands trembling slightly. Why can't I just stop?
The ritual was both comforting and suffocating—something she could finally admit to herself. Hoping for anything new felt pointless. Same shit every day.
She took a deep breath, recalling the coming rush, and shrugged. Whatever, what difference does it make? Measuring the powder with her blade, she brought it to her nose. The world outside dissolved, letting her feel invincible.
After the quick hit, she wiped her nose, sniffling as she caught her breath—the high spread, igniting her veins. But as the euphoria settled, a ripple of guilt passed over her. She stared at the cracked mirror, meeting her own deep jungle green eyes under the smudges and grime—hating the person she saw. What am I even doing? Why am I like this?
Zali splashed cold water on her face to compose herself. She could still feel the weight of the Red Dragon's eyes on her; their recent scrutiny made her skin crawl. They were always watching—so why did it feel different now? She glanced at the bandana on her wrist, covering the week-old marking. Had she committed to something she was too wasted to remember?
With a final glance in the mirror, she straightened her shoulders. The music still pulsed through the air as she stepped back into the bar.
Zali approached the bar, snatched a tequila bottle and a shot glass, and lit a cigarette with a smirk. As she exhaled, she sensed someone behind her—someone closing in. Her hand moved lower, inconspicuously resting over the hilt of her knife.
"Quetzali Guerrero," Cole leaned against the bar beside her. "You're a hard woman to track down."
"Just Zali," she snapped, rolling her eyes before tossing back the shot. Her hand brushed her nose—a reflex from using too often—but she quickly hid it with a flick of her hair. "Haven't heard my government name in ages." That's not a good sign.
Her gaze sharpened, sizing him up. He was definitely out of his element here, and being this genuinely casual with her disarmed her—just a bit. "You're a bit too put together for this place. You a cop, or just another wannabe hero looking to save my day?"
"Nah, I just know a thing or two about you, Zali," he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Like that dragon mark on your wrist. Pretty hard to hide, huh?" His tone was light, but there was an edge of seriousness beneath it as he leaned in slightly closer.
"Good call to keep that under wraps in a place like this."
"How—" Zali's eyes widened, her hand instinctively reaching to cover the bandana she had tied around it. "How the hell did you know that? Who are you?"
"I'm Cole. My friends and I need your help."
"Need my help?" She slipped her knife out with her free hand, twirling it between her fingers like a drumstick. "That's a pretty wild, bold claim for an outsider crashing a Red Dragon party." Zali stared him down, skepticism etched on her face.
"Alright, easy there." Cole raised his hands slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. "I get it, you got your knife ready. But trust me, I'm not your enemy. And I've got enough on my plate without you trying to stab me."
"I wouldn't try, pendejo—I'd do it," she snorted, holding the knife still for emphasis before spinning it again.
"We're on the same side, whether you like it or not."
"The same side of what, exactly?" Zali scoffed, taking a long drag from her cigarette, the smoke curling around her like a familiar embrace. "You're bein' real cryptic, dude."
Cole glanced around quickly, then tugged down the collar of his white tee under his brown hoodie, revealing a matching mark on his chest—just long enough to gauge the shock on her face.
"You've been chosen, like me. To fight for something bigger than yourself. To protect our world from dark forces that are threatening to tear it apart. The Black Dragon may seem like your only enemy, but they're just pawns in a much larger game."
Cole's voice dropped, the weight of his words heavy in the air. "Anyone with the marking has a target on their back."
"What the hell does that even mean?" Zali shot back, her laughter hollow, amusement fading as uncertainty crept in. How was it even possible for multiple people to have the same marking? The weight of his words settled in her gut—equal parts intrigue and fear.
"You're talking about some crazy shit, hombre. I'm just supposed to take that," she pointed the knife at his chest, "and your word for it?"
"It's too risky to tell you everything here. This place is crawling with Red Dragon, and they're not the only ones interested in you."
"Right," Zali took a long drag, "'cause they're after the protectors of our world..." her gaze locked on him as his focus zeroed in on her. Her heart sped up, but she masked it with sarcasm. "Don't know if you noticed, but I'm not exactly the noble type, babe."
"Maybe not," Cole replied, his expression serious. "Listen, I'd rather be anywhere else right now. I've got a wife and daughter to protect." He hesitated, his voice dropping slightly. "But I'm here, 'cause Earth needs you, Zali. Your skills and strength."
Wife and daughter, figures. Wait, why do I care? People needing me—never my thing.
"And what if I just tell you to go to hell?" Zali challenged, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You think I'm just gonna drop everything for this mess you're talking about?"
"I'll respect your decision," he said. "Just know that walking around with that marking makes you fair game for Outworld."
Outworld?
Before Zali could respond, havoc erupted around them. Mercenaries of the Black Dragon burst into the scene, clashing with anyone in their path. Fists and weapons flew, and chairs toppled. The venue transformed into a battleground, and Zali and Cole found themselves back-to-back, in defensive stances.
"These the friends you mentioned?" Zali muttered, sarcasm lacing her words as she repositioned her knife.
"Nope."
"Got a plan?"
"Fight our way out," Cole replied. "Stay close."
"I think I'm starting to like you, Cole." Zali grinned, anticipation sparking in her eyes. "Let's fuckin' go."
They launched into action, movements synchronized in a deadly dance. Zali's fists and feet moved with blinding speed, her skills on full display. She ducked under a wild swing from a thug, using the momentum to pivot and deliver a kick to his knee, breaking the bone and sending him crashing to the ground.
Cole fought with quiet strength, each move precise and calculated. He blocked a punch aimed at his face, countering with a swift jab to the thug's gut. The man doubled over as Cole followed up with a knee to his face, sending him sprawling backward. The mayhem intensified as the bar erupted into a full-blown melee.
Zali scanned the room for anything she could use to her advantage, adrenaline pumping. Spotting a nearby table, she sprinted toward it, leaping onto its surface.
"Hey, assholes!" Zali shouted, drawing the attention of several mercs. "Over here!"
As they turned, she launched herself off the table, executing a perfect somersault to land behind one of them. She delivered a swift kick to his back, sending him barreling into another gang member. The two men tumbled to the ground in a heap, groaning in pain.
Meanwhile, Cole held his own against a group of three attackers. He ducked a wild swing, countering with a powerful uppercut that sent one thug reeling. He turned just in time to see Zali's knife flying past, sticking a guy with an axe rushing at Cole.
"You're havin' too much fun!" Cole shouted, a grin breaking through the turmoil, his humor shining through even in the heat of battle.
"You kiddin'?" Zali smirked, taking down an opponent with a well-placed elbow to the jaw. Her eyes gleamed with excitement. "I live for this shit!"
She spotted a broken bottle on the floor and quickly grabbed it, brandishing it like a weapon. A thug charged at her, and she sidestepped, slashing the bottle across his arm. He howled in pain, stumbling back as blood dripped from the wound.
"Next!" Zali taunted, her confidence soaring. The thrill of the fight was intoxicating, yet it magnified some of the darker recesses of her mind.
Cole caught her eye, sensing her hesitation. "We need to go!" His protective nature urged her to focus on the present.
She nodded, "Vámonos."
They fought their way toward the exit, Zali using her environment to her advantage. She grabbed a barstool and swung it at a thug approaching from the side, the wood splintering on impact. She turned to face another attacker, but a sharp pain exploded in her face as he landed a quick punch to her nose.
Blood immediately gushed, and Zali staggered back, wiping the blood from her upper lip. She shook off the momentary distraction, rushing at him with a flying knee.
Just as they reached the door, a hulking figure blocked their path. A hulking scarred merc, now furious and ready for revenge. He brandished a metal pipe, his eyes blazing with rage.
"You think you can just walk away?" he growled, stepping forward menacingly.
"Oh, I don't think, I know." Zali's voice was fierce, instinctively. She'd spent so long shutting people out, but fighting beside Cole—someone with something to lose—made the old walls shift, just a little, into unfamiliar territory.
The thug laughed, a cruel sound that cut through the disarray. "I ain't scared a'you, little girl."
As he swung the pipe, Cole felt a surge of energy. He activated his arcana, golden armor manifesting around him. In one swift motion, he pulled Zali aside, taking the hit to the chest. The impact reverberated, but Cole stood firm, unfazed.
With a powerful, charged punch, Cole sent the thug crashing through the door, into the building across the alley, the metal pipe clattering to the ground in front of them.
"What the fuck is that?!" Zali exclaimed, a mix of awe and disbelief in her voice. "Did you just… sprout armor?"
Cole turned to her, a grin breaking through the tension. "Welcome to my world, Zali." He flexed his arms, the golden armor shimmering in the dim light, a testament to his newfound power.
Zali shook her head, still processing what she had just witnessed. "You're tellin' me you can just…" She tapped his shoulder with her fingertips, quickly drawing her hand back from the heat of the orange glow that appeared. "Absorb hits like that?"
"Somethin' like that," Cole chuckled, the humor easing the tension. "It's a work in progress."
"Great," Zali replied, her sarcasm returning as she regained her composure. "So, you're a superhero now? Just what I needed— the knight in golden armor."
"Hey, you're no slouch yourself," Cole said, nodding toward the scuffles still unfolding behind them. "But let's get outta here before more of them show up."
Zali faltered, feeling a pang of regret. Her drum kit, her only pride and joy, was still on the stage, and she knew she had to leave it behind. The thought stung, but survival came first. She couldn't let sentimentality get in the way.
"Zali, let's move!" Cole urged, gesturing toward the exit as they had an opening.
Damn it. With a final glance at the stage, she turned and sprinted toward the exit, Cole right beside her. They charged out into the night, adrenaline pumping through their veins. The sounds of the bar faded behind them, replaced by the distant wail of approaching sirens.
"Where to now?" Zali asked as they raced down the alley, glancing at Cole, who was scanning the area for any signs of danger.
He waved for her to follow him down the alleyways. Zali examined the patterns on Cole's armor, thinking about the matching dragons on their skin. How had she just up and left a life funded by Red Dragon blood money to follow some handsome stranger in golden armor?
Whoa, pump the brakes. The fuck did that come from?
They took a ladder to a nearby rooftop to regroup and scope out their escape route.
As they made it to the top, Zali took a moment to catch her breath, leaning against the railing. The cool night air enveloped them. The city lights twinkled below, a calm after the storm they had just escaped. This is what you wanted, right? Something new?
In the stillness, she realized blood was still trickling from her nose. She removed the bandana from her wrist and wiped it away.
Cole's brow furrowed with concern as he asked, "Hey, you good?" He noticed the blood seeping into the fabric she pressed against her face.
His presence was unexpectedly grounding. For a moment, it threw Zali off—a strange feeling cutting into the isolation she'd carried for so long.
"I'm fine," Zali brushed him off, forcing a grin. "You know what they say, ain't no party like a Red Dragon party." She laughed.
Cole chuckled softly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I can see that."
"Still can't believe I abandoned my kit," she sighed, frustration creeping into her voice. "Fuckin' thing's all I had to show for my life."
She caught herself before saying any more—she didn't even know this guy, and she almost spilled something real. It felt like leaving a piece of herself behind, a reminder of all those nights spent pouring her soul into every beat. The only thing that had kept her even remotely sane for the last seven years.
"I hope this shit is worth it."
"You didn't abandon anything. You made the right call, Zali." Cole's voice was steady, reassuring.
"If you say so." Zali took a deep breath, the sobering cold air filling her lungs—sharp and invigorating— almost clearing her mind of the turmoil inside. She looked to her right wrist, tracing the image she'd convinced herself was from a night of partying too hard.
"I want answers."
"And you'll get them. Soon," he assured her. "Let's get somewhere safe first." He pulled out an encrypted phone, typed a message, and sent it off. A few calm minutes passed, with only the city's ambiance.
"We got our way out," Cole said, breaking her reverie. "You good to go?"
Zali nodded, "Lead the way."
A silent understanding hung in the air. They were in this together now. Descending from the rooftop, the duo was ready to face whatever awaited them in the shadows of the night.
Cole said his goodbyes to his family again, looking back at Allison, who stood on the porch with her arm around Emily, before he stepped through the portal back to Raiden's Temple.
It was quiet at the temple now, the torches starting to light as the rest of the champions were sitting to eat. Cole just skipped it tonight, letting himself have the silent victory for Zali choosing something better for herself and their crew.
Two 'normal' days. That was it.
Raiden returned mid-morning, appearing just as Kano was rapid-firing his laser at ice targets Kuai Liang kept launching.
Raiden always had a stern countenance. But Cole clocked this one as even grimmer than usual.
"Hey," Cole called out to everyone, gesturing to them to stop what they were doing.
They gathered in the courtyard to meet Raiden and get the news. Raiden's eyes lingered on Kuai Liang, knowing and assessing, before he addressed the others.
"The former Lin Kuei are seeking an artifact we believed was already destroyed. The Soul Kamidogu."
"Man, someone get me a notebook. This drama's pure Oscar material," Johnny said, being ignored by everyone except Liu and Sonya.
"This was the same crystal Shang Tsung rewarded Bi-Han for murdering Hanzo Hasashi. The soul magic that extended his life and granted him the power to travel the realms at will. Whether Sektor wishes to ally herself with Outworld or use the kamidogu to her own ends remains to be seen."
"Either way, we can't sit around waiting to find out," Jax shook his head.
Cole considered it, arms crossed. "Alright. We stick to the same plan—just like when we're looking for champions. Three of us will go scope this place out."
Kano grinned, clapping his hands and rubbing them together greedily. "Alright, treasure huntin's right up me alley. See what else they got out hidin' in there."
Kuai was quieter than usual, arms folded, glancing away before he spoke up. "I know where she'd be searching. The crystal was sacred to the Lin Kuei. Even in defeat, Sektor still believes she's Bi-Han's rightful successor."
"I'm in," Jax assured.
"Kano, you stay put." Cole nodded to Jax and Kuai. "Gear up. We leave in ten."
"Horseshit," Kano spat. "Fine. I'll be sleepin' easy while you three get eaten by the fuckin' Blair Witch."
Cole rolled his eyes and started walking away. "Good. 'Cause it's the only time you manage to shut the fuck up."
The ten minutes ticked by. Jax sidled up next to Cole as Kuai Liang emerged from the corridor.
"You think it's a trap," Jax murmured.
Cole sighed. "It's crossed my mind. The threat's real enough. Last thing we need is anyone opening portals and making things worse."
Jax clapped him reassuringly on the shoulder, voice low. "If we have to handle him, I got your back, champ." With that, he headed over to where Raiden waited to open the portal.
Sonya appeared with three earpieces and handed them out. "I'll track you from here. Keep your heads on a swivel out there, guys."
Raiden stepped forward. He outstretched his hand, summoning the portal in a crackle of energy. "Have faith in one another. Find the Kamidogu. Destroy it."
"Let's do this," Cole said and walked through first.
↫↬
Zali's eyelids felt heavy as she blinked away the last bit of sleep.
She sat up and looked around. No dizziness. Nothing hurt. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, still wrapping her head around the potency of the remedy she'd taken. The last two days had been hell.
Finally, she stood and opened the window. Birds sang outside. The sun on her skin felt hotter than she could remember.
Everything through Zali's perception felt eerily clear. She realized now that she probably hadn't experienced life like this since she was a kid.
A plain green t-shirt and a pair of black joggers were laid out on the arm of the couch-bed. She picked them up and headed to the bathroom. After a shower, she caught her reflection in the mirror: clean, inside and out. At least physically. But she'd take that for now.
She could hear talking and the sizzle of food cooking in the kitchen, and reluctantly made her way out.
Emily looked up from her breakfast. Allison was over the stove, assessing Zali and smiling.
"Oh, good, they fit. Wasn't sure what size you were. Those were the stretchiest things I had."
The scent of frying bacon hit Zali so sharply that she was a little too distracted to respond.
"How are you feeling?" Allison paused to make sure Zali was alright.
"Uh," Zali furrowed her brows. A word wasn't coming, but not because of fog-brain this time. "Normal?"
The coffee maker's beeps came through a little too shrill in Zali's ears, and she felt her shoulders tense.
Allison grabbed a mug and filled it with fresh coffee. "You must be starving."
"Nah, I'm good," Zali said, faster than she meant to. She shoved her hands in her pockets and looked away, almost shyly. Then her stomach growled loudly.
"Really. It's no trouble. Have a seat." Allison set the mug down at an empty spot at the table for Zali and grabbed the coffee creamer.
Zali bit the inside of her cheek and did as she was told. She pulled her seat forward and added a splash of cream to her coffee.
Emily was cutting into a pancake. "You look different," she noted.
"Yeah. Don't do drugs, kid," Zali muttered, scoffing as she took a sip—mostly to have something to do—but burned her tongue. She tried hard not to react.
Emily leaned forward, pointing with her fork. "Y'know, that's the only mug Dad uses. He'd be losing it if he were here."
Allison gave Emily the look while making Zali a plate. "I'd hardly call it 'losing it,' Em. Besides, that's just what he told you since you already broke his actual favorite mug."
Emily shrugged with a grin.
Once the plate was in front of her, Zali scarfed it down, then helped herself to seconds—and thirds.
"Wow. Do you do food-eating contests too?" Emily asked.
Allison covered her mouth and laughed. "Honey, cut it out."
Zali couldn't help smirking at Emily, even with her mouth full, rolling her eyes.
"Been a while since I had a real appetite."
↫↬
The forest was dense in the Mongolian Altai, even darker under the cover of night, with hardly a flash of moonlight breaking through, the air biting cold, the last of the static fizzling out behind them.
"Blade, you copy?" Jax spoke, testing the earpiece.
"Loud and clear, Major," Sonya replied in their ears.
Cole looked to Kuai. "You said you know where Sektor's headed, you take point."
Kuai gave a slight nod and moved ahead, leading the way.
Jax and Cole exchanged glances, neither one eager to trust Kuai with their backs.
"I've got you in Mongolia, east of Khuder, heading toward the Russian border. Don't know how much help I'll be. Can't see anything other than trees on my end," Sonya's voice came through the earpiece.
"The ruins of Zhu Xin are due east," Kuai replied.
"I'll see what I can dig up. For now, you're on your own."
They continued forward through the thick underbrush, stepping as lightly as possible, but twigs still snapped, and leaves crunched beneath their feet.
"Zhu Xin. You've been here before?" Cole asked.
"Only once. It's well hidden," Kuai replied. "This is where Bi-Han trained before he became Grandmaster."
"Hope that means we're on the right track." Cole took a deep breath, fighting off the shiver.
Finally, an opening in the tree line to a plaza, moss and ice clinging to the glyphs carved in stone. There on the platform stood a figure, covered in red metallic armor.
"I've been expecting you... champions."
She faced them. Her mask whirred, gears turning as it retracted from her face. Her eyes were empty and mechanical, locking on Kuai, black and green wiring streaking beneath the last of her skin like veins.
"The Lin Kuei was always meant to evolve into perfection. You were meant to be perfected—to surpass Bi-Han, to become a cyber Sub-Zero. You have no right to carry the dragon medallion as you are, Kuai Liang."
"Seika... please," Kuai's voice was low. "This was never what we wanted. You're not too far gone to stop this madness."
"Seika is dead!" she shouted, her voice echoing with both fury and distortion. "She withered away in the weakness of her flesh. There is only Sektor. And with the Soul Kamidogu, I'll end all flesh—first, in Earthrealm, then Outworld."
"So be it," Kuai said, no hesitation in his voice.
Two robotic arms unfolded from her back, shooting flames in a wide arc before her.
Two figures emerged from the cavern behind her: a cyborg nearly identical in yellow—Cyrax—and another with grey hair and a grey mask, cybernetics grafted to his skin, and the kamidogu tucked into his belt. Jax and Kuai ran after the pair.
Cole blocked the flames and closed in on Sektor. He took two swings at her with his tonfa, and she propelled herself backward, a blast from her feet.
She straightened, lips smug. "The heir of the Shirai Ryu. Fitting to spill Hasashi blood for the crystal once more. And only one child left to eliminate after you."
Cole smirked, striking the chestplate of his armor, igniting it with a burning orange glow. "Not bleeding yet. Let's see how far you get."
She scowled, closing her mask and charging forward.
↫↬
Emily was sitting on the floor between the couch and coffee table, her legs crossed underneath it, with a trunk filled with various craft supplies. She had a few different materials spread across the tabletop. She seemed unable to decide what she wanted to do. She had a vinyl cord and started box-weaving it into a keychain.
"Craft stores stay in business with you, I bet." Zali sat across from her on the floor.
"I wanna work on something bigger, just can't decide what," Emily's brows furrowed while her fingers kept moving.
Zali skimmed the supplies on the table before picking up a green and a pink cord. She slipped the elastic from her low ponytail and put it on her wrist, dividing her hair and starting to weave the cords into a braid.
She hadn't noticed how intently Emily had been watching her do it.
"That's so cool. How'd you learn to do that?"
"Learned from an old woman who braided the kids' hair at a park in Corozal. It's a little beach city in Belize. I was prob'y a little younger than you." Zali finished it off with her hair tie. "Works better with thread, honestly."
Emily opened another compartment in the chest and, with a smile, pulled out small rubber bands and a handful of threads of cloth. "Like these?"
Zali arched a brow. "I'm scared to know what else you got in there."
"Can you do my hair?"
Zali hesitated a moment, but nodded lightly and pushed herself up. She settled in on the edge of the couch behind Emily.
"And I get to do yours next," Emily held her hand up to pass Zali the threads and bands.
Zali snorted. "Why do I have to be the guinea pig?"
Emily giggled, going back to her current project, sitting still as Zali gently parted her hair with her fingers.
↫↬
Rubble fell in piles around the structure as Earthrealm's champions battled the cyborgs.
Kuai faced off with Smoke, searching his friend's eyes for a hint of humanity. Smoke was only in the early stages of cyberization, but Sektor's control over him was absolute. His twin karambit knives whirled between his fingers in a blur of silver and speed.
"Fight it, Tomas," Kuai urged, dodging and weaving through the flurry of blades. He kept the knives at bay with sharp bursts of ice—freezing Smoke's arm, then his leg, locking him in place. Kuai knocked him out cold and snatched the crystal from his belt.
Across the battlefield, Jax tore through the net Cyrax launched at him. Her abdomen split open, buzzing with a hidden saw blade. Jax sidestepped at the last moment, his cybernetic fingers locking on and ripping the saw free—but he missed the small bomb that bounced to his feet.
Kuai rushed in, sending a blast of ice. The bomb froze solid just as it exploded, shards scattering harmlessly across the ground.
Jax didn't hesitate. He surged forward, tearing exposed wiring from the base of Cyrax's neck. Sparks shot out, coiling around her shoulders.
Cyrax jerked, her body glitching as she dropped to her knees, staring down at her only functioning hand.
"Where? What... is this?" she stammered, touching her abdomen—a gaping, sparking wound. "N—N—no."
Kuai dropped to one knee in front of her. "Cyrax, can you hear me?"
"Kuai Liang?" Her voice was robotic, but thick with emotion.
"Forgive me, my friend. It should never have come to this."
Kuai rose and pressed the kamidogu into Jax's palm, his gaze steady. "Get Tomas and Cyrax to safety. They never chose to be... this. Destroy the kamidogu once you're clear." He glanced up, watching Cole locked in combat with Sektor. "We'll put an end to her."
Jax nodded, voice respectful. "You got it, Grandmaster. See you on the other side."
Kuai formed an ice ramp and collided with Sektor from behind, knocking her to the ground. He landed beside Cole.
With a roaring blast from her palms, Sektor propelled herself upright—now facing the new era of Shirai Ryu and Lin Kuei, side by side.
"Abomination." A machine gun ejected from her ribs, spitting round after round.
Kuai formed a wall of ice shielding them from the bullets.
"I just need one clean shot," Cole muttered.
"You'll have it," Kuai replied.
As the ammunition clicked empty, Kuai shattered the wall.
Cole, with his bladed tonfa, severed Sektor in half. Kuai's ice spear impaled her head through her abdomen. Her mask still covered her face. There was no blood; only oil seeped out, dripping slowly down the spear and pooling on the ground beneath her.
Cole and Kuai stood panting, still on alert. When Sektor didn't move, they exchanged nods. Cole went to Jax, while Kuai lingered, staring at the remains of the one he used to trust most.
He joined Cole and Jax.
"The kamidogu won't be a problem anymore," Jax said.
"Hey, Kuai. You alright?" Cole asked, concern in his tone.
Kuai's voice was quiet. "Many among our clan are orphans. Tomas became Smoke. Cyrax never knew another name—only what the Lin Kuei gave her. Our creed commanded us not to have attachments. No friendships, or..." His jaw ticked as he hesitated. "We always wanted to reform the Lin Kuei together. But Seika's ambition twisted her—her need for control, then perfection."
It was the first flicker of emotion the others had seen from him.
"I'm sorry, Kuai," Cole said quietly. "That couldn't have been easy for you."
"There's no need." Kuai shook his head lightly. "Seika has been dead for a long time."
Jax smirked. "Regular folks just say thanks, man."
The corner of Kuai Liang's mouth twitched, almost a smile. "I will remember that. It was an honor to fight alongside you both."
Cyrax approached the trio, heavily damaged but still functioning.
"I may only be a shell now, but... I still feel. My soul remains. Tomas may still have a chance to be brought back whole. We will return to Sektor's laboratory."
Cyrax straightened, saluting Kuai Liang in their tradition. "I will do everything in my power to restore him, Grandmaster. For the Lin Kuei. For your Lin Kuei."
Kuai Liang returned the gesture as Raiden's portal formed nearby.
↫↬
Zali was lying on the couch bed in the den, her brain making pictures from the drywall texture on the ceiling, fingertips drumming out a beat on her stomach. She had no idea what to do with the time. She'd already seen where the laundry room was and figured she could do her laundry.
Zali started pulling her clothes out of the bag and stopped.
Allison was on her laptop at the countertop, looking confused when Zali approached with her backpack. Zali reached in, piling five thickly banded rolls of cash in front of her. "Here."
Allison gawked at the money, wide-eyed, and sat up straighter. "That's, wow, Zali. I can't take all that."
"No, for real, keep it... I wouldn't be doin' anything good with it anyway," Zali shrugged.
She watched Allison's stunned expression. Letting go of the cash felt strange—almost too easy. Gratitude wasn't a language Zali spoke, not unless she expected something in return. But maybe that was the point. This was the first time she could remember giving something away just because she could.
Allison nodded, giving Zali's arm a squeeze in thanks. Zali walked back to put the bag away and start washing her clothes, leaving Allison staring at the pile of money on her countertop.
A few hours later, in the living room, Zali saw Cole through the window as he stepped through Raiden's portal. He just stood there for a moment, running a hand through his hair and sighing.
The sunset through a gap in the trees shone a glowing spotlight on him, and didn't even seem like the guy from her memory; he was more vivid, more detailed. Her breath felt like it wasn't coming, and her heart started racing.
Today was a lot. Prob'ly just anxiety... Yeah, anxiety.
Zali turned away from the window and sat down on the couch. She tapped her nails on her glass of water, the faint clink filling the silence.
The front door creaked briefly as Cole entered, but she didn't turn to look at him.
"Glad to see you're still alive," she said, sipping from her glass.
"Could say the same about you," he flopped down on the opposite end of the couch and dropped his head back with a groan. "I'm crashing here tonight. Just got done handling some real Skynet and Hogwarts shit."
"Had to go heads up with T-1000 and his house elf, huh?" She clocked the gash on the side of his lip and the darkening bruise along his jaw.
Cole turned his head to look at her, narrowing his eyes slightly, now noticing the chill clothes, bare feet, and different colored threads in the small braids scattered around her hair.
"Not looking very punk rock over there, Guerrero. It's kinda weird."
She smirked, looking back at the sports recap on the muted TV. "Tell anyone, they'll never find your body, cabrón."
"Ain't the worst threat I've heard today," he muttered with a tired smile, chuckling, eyes closing, ready to fall asleep right there.
She stayed, catching the shift of his breathing once he'd actually drifted off. The wood floor creaked in the hallway as Allison appeared in the living room.
"He's out," Zali snorted quietly, standing to walk her empty glass to the sink.
Allison went up to him, brushing stray strands of hair from his forehead before slipping the blanket off the back of the couch and covering him with it.
Zali watched for only a moment before dropping her eyes, a sense that she was intruding on something private. For a second, she wondered what it might feel like to belong somewhere like that. But she knew better than to reach for things she didn't deserve.
She busied herself washing the used glass, setting it carefully in the rack to dry.
Keeping her head down, Zali walked back to the den, still not over the strangeness of her new normal.
↫↫↫↫↫↫↫↫↫↫֍•֎↬↬↬↬↬↬↬↬↬↬
𝕀'𝕞 𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕪𝕠𝕦, 𝕀 𝕘𝕠 𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙 𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕤𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕀 𝕨𝕣𝕠𝕥𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕝𝕪, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕀 𝕔𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕕.
𝕊𝕦𝕣𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕪𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕠𝕟𝕖. ℤ𝕒𝕝𝕚'𝕤 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕒 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕥, 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝕦𝕟𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕.
Zali had been up all night—the first hit lighting a fire in her veins after she finally gave in. She spent hours wired, needing something—anything—to do with the energy. Her first idea sent her rummaging through her bag and dumping everything out, but she came up empty-handed—no drumsticks.
That made her want to break something.
Of all the motherfucking things...
She ran her hands over her scalp, tugging at the roots and letting out a low groan.
She unzipped her hoodie and stuffed it back inside her backpack, pausing to glare at the wound on her arm—still aching and red around the edges.
After that, she tried to train in her room, pushing herself hard—working out, using—but it wasn't enough. Every time her muscles flexed and the burn on her arm flared, it fed the grudge festering against Kuai Liang.
She sighed, wiped her nose, and sniffled. "Fuck it."
Zali pulled her long hair into a tight, messy ponytail, changed into new clothes, and stepped out.
Cole hardly slept, lying with his arm behind his head, staring at the empty left side of the small bed. Waking up without Ally and Emily nearby still felt foreign to him. Even on the road, city to city for his fights, they were always there.
Once he started taking harder hits and racking up losses, Ally couldn't bear to watch him take that kind of punishment. They'd still travel with him and wait at the hotel—but he'd only be away for a few hours. That was the difference.
Not bothering to linger in bed, he got ready and wandered down the long hall, pausing before a tapestry of Hanzo Hasashi's death at Bi-Han's hands. The robes Bi-Han wore looked eerily similar to Kuai Liang's, only more modern. Cole shook it off.
Can't think like that.
Kuai had only been there for a day, yet had already helped immensely with Johnny and Sonya. Earthrealm's champions being prepared was definitely not in Outworld's best interest. Still, Cole's better judgment said Kuai Liang would need to prove far more than that before he could be trusted.
Out in the dining area, the monks moved about preparing the table. Cole was thrown off to see Kuai—not Zali—already sitting there.
Oh shit, he's an early one too. Zali's gonna love that.
"Mornin'," Cole greeted him, sliding into the opposite end of the table.
Kuai nodded, all business and cold calculation. "Your training regimen needs to change. Shift the focus to sharpening your powers. Don't waver for the only one incapable of rising to the occasion."
Cole raised an eyebrow and lifted a hand. "Hold up. Obviously, you two got off on the wrong foot, so maybe you shouldn't be so quick to dismiss Zali."
"The truth offending you is none of my concern," Kuai replied, his tone stern. "Some Outworlders are born with mystical gifts. Their champions have the advantage. Are you telling me you'd rather coddle Quetzali than prepare?"
Cole's jaw tightened, but he kept his cool. "I'm working on it."
Kuai kept his gaze steady, something he was figuring out about Cole, he filed away.
The rest of the team trickled in—Liu trailing behind Jax and Sonya, with Kano and Johnny bickering as usual. Breakfast continued: dishes clattering, low conversations filling the room.
Cole kept glancing around, waiting. His food sat untouched, growing cold. Kuai sipped his tea in silence, distant in his own world.
Still no sign of Zali.
Across the temple grounds, Zali pounded the sandbag, zoned out in restless frustration and the sting still lingering in her arm. She barely acknowledged Kano as he sauntered up, his boots crunching on gravel.
"Somethin's got ya hot this morning. Not too happy 'bout the ice queen putting you down?" Kano needled. His eyes flicked to the uncovered wound before watching her unleash elbows and knees with more force than necessary.
"Puto ain't puttin' me down today," she muttered, eyes fixed ahead, sweat trickling down her temple as she ramped up the pace.
Kano snorted, glancing back at the others making their way out to the training grounds after him.
"Found the stray," he called out, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "Wants another shot at the snow man. I'm gonna need some popcorn."
"Maybe it was what she needed," Liu suggested, twisting the beads in his hand.
"Hope so," Cole replied, though concern creased his brow as he watched Zali from a distance.
The remnants of her solo rampage—splintered targets, broken training dummies—littered the sand.
The group's eyes lingered on the mess, then on Zali, who bounced on her toes, rolling her shoulders, a smirk tugging at her lips, not breaking rhythm as she jabbed the bag. They let her have her space.
Yet, Jax approached her, folding his arms as he surveyed her. "Well, for once, I actually believe Kano. You good, kid?"
"So ready to take that punk ass again," she declared.
"Don't burn yourself out—especially if you're goin' round two with Kuai Liang," he warned.
"Didn't ask for your opinion. Thanks anyway," Zali replied, bristling, her jaw ticking. She didn't notice how closely he paid attention.
"Really?" Jax pressed, frowning. "You even aware your nose is bleeding? Pretty sure those practice dummies don't hit back."
Zali wiped her nose with the back of her hand and glanced at the streak of blood, her movements twitching for a split second before she forced herself to steady. "Wouldn't be the first time."
Raiden strode into the yard, his presence shifting the air. He took in the scene—wreckage, group, Zali—and addressed her, his voice carrying: "Your vices will be the death of you before the tournament even begins. I expected more from you. Gather your things and go."
Zali shook her head, muttering under her breath, "What the fuck ever," before stalking off, her fists clenched at her sides.
As she disappeared inside, Cole caught up to Raiden and fell into step beside him.
"Something is troubling you," Raiden said, his gaze steady.
"You're right. Zali has no chance in the state she's in," Cole admitted quietly. "But she's shown potential since she's been here. I still don't feel great about Kuai Liang, but now that he's here, maybe we have more time to steer Zali in the right direction."
"Advocating for one of your champions? This role is very becoming for you," Raiden observed.
Cole shifted his weight, downplaying the compliment. "Just trying to look out for her."
Raiden considered, then nodded. "Very well. I will trust your judgment."
Zali stood in her room, stuffing the few personal items and the banded rolls of cash scattered on the bed into her backpack.
Cole found her there, leaning in the doorway as she finished.
"Good, you're ready," he said.
She shot him a look and yanked the zippers shut with a snap. "Damn, y'all seriously want me gone that bad, huh?"
"Zali, you trust me, right?" Cole asked, taking a few steps into the room.
"I really don't like where this conversation's going." She scoffed, slinging the straps over her shoulders.
"Look, Raiden's giving you another chance. You just gotta quit. Get clean."
She let out a brittle laugh, glancing away. "What, he's got a 'realm' for rehab too?"
"Not quite." Cole chuckled lightly despite himself. "But if you're coming with me, you get rid of that shit first."
Her hand rested over her pocket, where she knew the last of it was.
There wasn't much left, maybe enough for a hit or two. As she was packing her things to leave, she'd convinced herself it'd be enough to get her through—just until she could score again.
But the quieter voice at the back of her mind, the one that got louder when he was around, told her she did trust him.
Cole gestured for her to follow him. He led her out to the edge of the temple, where a huge pit of fire burned brightly.
Cole stood back, letting Zali head up the rest of the way. She slipped it from her pocket, staring at it in the middle of her palm. Her thumb brushed the bag, flipping it to reveal the dagger insignia of that particular branch of the Red Dragon.
I don't know if I can do this.
Her hand started shaking. She shut her eyes tight and quickly turned her hand over. When she opened them, the plastic shriveled and darkened until it melted into nothing.
Zali let out the breath she wasn't aware she was holding and finally turned back to Cole.
He didn't say anything to her about it; he didn't need to. Letting go was a small win she deserved for herself.
A pathway opened, shimmering with energy.
Zali paused, watching jagged bolts flash and pulse. Then they stepped through together.
On the other side, a quiet yard waited: a garage and shed to the left, a house in front. Before Zali could get her bearings, the front door flung open and a twelve-year-old girl barreled out.
"Dad!" Emily shouted, running up to Cole and hugging him tight.
Zali blinked, stepping away, unsure how to feel.
Holy shit. That's his daughter.
Emily looked up at her dad, beaming. "You got an extra day?"
"Nah, I won't be here too long today, kiddo," Cole answered, ruffling her hair.
Zali noticed the disappointment flicker on Emily's face, then caught Allison's cautious gaze from the porch.
Allison met them in the yard, giving Cole a quick peck on the mouth. Zali felt a strange tug in her chest—something she didn't have a name for. She looked away too fast for anyone to notice, awkwardly letting her gaze fall on Emily's soft half-smile.
Cole introduced her. "This is my friend, Zali."
She barely lifted her hand in greeting to his family. "'Sup," she said, her voice rough.
Allison's eyes lingered on Zali a moment too long before glancing back at Cole with realization. "Oh. She's the one you've been telling me about."
"Yeah. Let's head inside. We'll talk about that," Cole said, guiding them in.
Zali tried to hang back to be the last to enter the house, but Emily hadn't moved either—waiting. She shoved her hands deep into her pockets and started walking, struggling to ignore the attention as she stepped into Cole's personal world.
Inside, Zali was invited to make herself at home and take a seat in the living room. Cole and Allison excused themselves to discuss the plan in hushed voices in their bedroom.
"She seems..." Allison began, sighing as she perched on the edge of the bed. "Um. I'd be lying if I said nice."
Cole chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "She's... an interesting first impression."
"To say the least," Allison smirked.
"She's been struggling at the temple, Ally. I didn't realize how bad it was until now. Raiden's giving her a shot to get better. Over there isn't the place to do it. Not for her. So I figured, why not?"
"If she isn't willing to stop, this won't work. I've seen it enough times, Cole," Allison said, brow furrowed in concern.
"I know. I have a feeling she is," Cole replied quietly.
"Emily's going to ask a ton of questions," she added.
Cole nodded. "We'll talk to her about giving Zali her space."
Meanwhile, Emily sat across from Zali in the living room, watching her with open curiosity while Zali scanned the room, drumming her fingers on her knees, clocking the exits as her body went half rigid.
"Want something to drink?" Emily finally broke the silence, her tone casual but with the confidence of a twelve-year-old who's seen a lot.
Emily grinned and headed to the fridge. When she returned, she set a glass bottle of soda on the coffee table in front of Zali.
"Those are my favorite," Emily said as she flopped down right next to her.
Zali stiffened, startled by the girl's directness.
"Zali, huh?" Emily tilted forward, studying her face. "Is that short for something?"
Zali reached for the bottle and pulled out her lighter, using the bottom end to pop the cap off, letting it drop onto the table. "Yeah," she answered flatly.
Emily waited, eyebrows raised, but didn't push when Zali refused to elaborate. "You definitely don't look like Dad's other friends."
"Not usually anyone's friend," Zali deadpanned, taking a sip.
Emily leaned in, scrutinizing Zali's eyes. "Are you wearing contacts?"
Zali didn't look away. "I was born too close to a nuclear power plant."
Emily's eyes widened, half-believing. "No way. Seriously?"
"No." Zali took another long drink, hiding a smirk.
Emily just smiled, undeterred.
"You always start with interrogations?" Zali added, side-eyeing her.
Emily shrugged—she clearly wasn't fazed. She glanced at Zali's wrist, squinting, when she spotted the mark. "You have one too?"
Zali turned her arm over, and Emily grabbed it, tracing the dragon marking with fascinated fingers. "It's exactly like Dad's. That's so weird."
Zali shifted away a bit, brow raised, watching Emily's curiosity with a kind of baffled respect.
"Emily..." Allison's voice cut in from the hall, arms crossed as she watched them.
"What? You told me to be polite to guests," Emily sassed, shooting her mom a grin.
Allison nodded for her to come, and Emily hopped up to join her mom, still glancing back at Zali with a smile. Cole, standing in the doorway, just shook his head, stifling a laugh.
Zali shrugged, tilting the neck of the bottle toward Cole before taking another drink, finally looking a little more at ease in the silence.
Later, Cole sat with Zali in the living room, elbows resting on his knees. He looked at her seriously. "Here's the deal—the monks gave me some remedy that'll help clear your system way faster..."
"But?" she drawled, analyzing his face for the catch.
"But it's gonna suck," Cole admitted, grimacing a little. "You'll be the sickest you've ever been for a couple of days before you get better. At least, that's what they told me."
"Not like I can avoid it completely." Zali flexed her fists, cracking her knuckles one finger at a time. "Why didn't you mention it before? My... habits."
"Zali, remember where I grew up? I was surrounded by it. I wasn't gonna throw that in your face," Cole said softly.
"Played some wild sets around there, too," her smirk was brief. "Guess it's easy to forget I'm not the only one dealing with this shit."
Cole shook his head. "I'm not judging you for that. And I'm not letting anyone count you out until you get a fair shot. You can get through it here. No Kano, no Kuai Liang, no bullshit. What do you say?"
He watched her, calm and steady—no pressure in his tone.
He's gotta stop looking at me like that. Zali blinked hard to push the thought away.
She shook her head. "How'd you figure it was a good idea to bring my unstable ass here with your old lady and your kid?"
"Well, if you go through with it, you're gonna be too weak to be a problem to anyone. And Ally's no stranger to it either; that's why she's willing to help," Cole said, shrugging.
"But you don't really know me, Cole—I'm nobody. Why even bother?"
"I know enough." He chuckled.
"Surveillance footage and my file don't count," she snorted, rolling her eyes. "I chose my life, don't need to be pitied for it."
"It's not pity, Zali. I'm just saying everyone fucks up. And if you're willing to change it, I got your back."
Zali looked down at her interlocked fingers, tracing the boxed patterns on the area rug beneath her scuffed boots. The kitchen clock ticked loudly.
For a brief moment, she considered walking out. The front door wasn't far—she could be gone in seconds, back to looking out for herself. But that train of thought collapsed as quickly as it came on. Walk out to what? Hiding among the scum of the earth, strung out and hunted. A life where nobody gave a damn if she lived or died.
Or she could stay here, with these people—this family—opening their home to someone like her, even if they barely knew her.
All she knew for sure was that she was tired. Tired of the weight. And now someone was offering to carry a little of it with her.
"Okay," she exhaled sharply, her voice barely above a whisper. "Alright, I'll do it."
"Cool." Cole nodded, giving her a small, relieved smile and a gentle pat on the shoulder.
"So what kind of remedy were you talking about...?" Zali asked.
"Gotta mix it with water," he said, heading to the kitchen counter where he'd dropped the pouch earlier. He lifted the bag of herbs and roots—it was about the size of a baseball.
"Ah, dammit." Zali dropped her head in her hands, sighing.
"At least you only have to do it once," Cole offered with a shrug.
"Don't give me that 'glass-half-full' bullshit. You're not the one that's gotta chug fuckin' swamp sludge," she snapped, still not looking at him.
He grinned. "Let's get you settled first."
Zali followed Cole down the hall to the end, turning into the room on the left.
The den was lined with old MMA championship belts, posters from past cards, and a leather pull-out couch that looked well-used but sturdy.
Cole pulled the cushions off and unfolded the bed for her. "It's not much, but I swear it's comfortable. Beats the beds at the temple any day," he promised.
Zali lingered by the wall, scanning Cole's fight recaps and memorabilia. She muttered under her breath, "Shit, dude, you were a beast."
"'Were?'" Cole shot her a look, one brow raised.
She smirked, arms wrapped tight around herself. "Yeah, in the 'non-death match' capacity."
Cole crossed his arms. "Pretty sure I kept you from getting torpedoed... in the death-match capacity."
"Sure. Don't forget to rub it in," she shot back with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.
Just then, Allison appeared in the doorway, holding a big plastic cup full of thick, greenish-brown sludge. She grimaced sympathetically as she handed it to Zali. "I, uh, made this for you. I'm so sorry."
Whatever was in it had fully dissolved, but the rotting, mossy smell wafting up made Zali's stomach churn. She tried not to think about what was in it.
Cole and Allison started to leave. "Seriously, though, you need anything while I'm gone, Ally's got you," Cole said, and Allison nodded before he looked back at Zali. "I'll be back to check on you in a few days."
Zali eyed the lumpy couch-bed as they left, dropping her backpack beside it. Out in the hallway, Cole called her.
"Hey, Zali."
She looked up, arching a brow. "Yeah?"
"Bottoms up," he said, gesturing with his hand and grinning.
She glared at him, not quite able to hide her smile. "I'm gonna strangle you," she threatened.
His chuckles faded down the hall. Zali closed the door, staring at the cup. She stood for a few beats, swirling the liquid.
"Alright, don't be a bitch." Then she took a deep breath and knocked it back as fast as she could.
"Aw, chingado," Zali gagged, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and setting the cup down on an end table. "That's disgusting."
A full-body shudder straightened her; the muscle aches pulled tighter beneath her skin. This was definitely going to hurt.
For a second, she tried to tell herself it was the right kind of pain—until her stomach lurched and she collapsed to her knees on the floor.
"Mira. That's what you get, cabrona."
Her dad's voice echoed in her mind, dragging her back to being eight years old—tripping over a hi-hat, staying crumpled on the ground, afraid of what would happen once she got up.
"Shut... up," she muttered aloud, teeth gritted.
She forced herself up off the floor boards, crawling the rest of the way to the mattress. Curling up on her side, palms pressed to her forehead, she squeezed her eyes shut, head pounding behind her eyelids.
When she opened them, the dragon marking was right in front of her face.
There was no escaping this time.
↫↫↫↫↫↫↫↫↫↫֍•֎↬↬↬↬↬↬↬↬↬↬
Day twelve since Zali's arrival. Insomnia or nightmares plagued most nights, so she'd always be the first to leave her room, creating the illusion of punctuality.
Training for Mortal Kombat resembled boot camp, probably adopting Sonya and Jax's Special Forces schedule: waking up just before dawn, eating together, and doing drills. More drills. Until the sun set.
Kano never felt the need to participate like everyone else; he did his own thing, joining in only when he had the itch to fight. Or to push buttons.
Raiden entrusted Cole with overseeing training to unlock arcanas—he was experienced enough to prepare for fights months in advance. Cole paired those who'd unlocked their abilities with those who hadn't: himself with Johnny, Jax with Sonya, and Liu with Zali.
Liu took extra time with Zali, noticing that when the group around her was larger, she was much more irritable and on edge. The others would sit to watch once they were finished. If they didn't all stay until the end, Cole was the last to leave.
Despite slight improvements, Liu always ended up leaving her a heaving lump in the dirt. Every time she'd be dusting off dejectedly, Cole would reassure her that the same thing had happened to him, even after his powers were unlocked.
Cole left on weekends to see his family. When he was gone, Zali kept to herself, practicing old forms so she wouldn't get her ass handed to her by Liu.
The problem was that her concentration was fuzzy, and the shakiness hadn't subsided. Liu would look out for her while he was gone, timidly checking in even though she clearly wanted to be left alone.
Johnny always had some sly comments about the accommodations, saying they'd remind him of movies he'd starred in. And Zali noted that the only time he'd really shut up and listen was when he paid close attention to whatever Sonya said.
This morning, Cole came back through the portal. They could hear him a little farther off before he appeared, jogging down the steps toward breakfast. He always seemed so much lighter when he returned from home. And Zali felt like she could breathe a little easier with him around.
"'Sup, guys," Cole greeted everyone and slid into the empty seat beside Zali.
"How've you been holdin' up?" Cole asked, voice pitched just for her.
She handed him an empty plate with a faint smirk, despite her dull headache. "Don't think it'd kill 'em to make some machaca once in a while."
"So why's he the only one who gets conjugal visits?" Kano complained with a mouthful of food, gesturing at Cole with an open hand across the table. "How's that fair?"
Sonya didn't bother hiding her low groan or eye roll, and Jax shook his head as Johnny and Liu exchanged a less-than-surprised glance.
"Oi, Red," Kano gulped his food down and lifted a suggestive brow at Zali, leaning in over the table. "Whadaya say? I ain't picky. And you definitely don't have standards."
"You know if you actually need the eye to use the laser?" Zali set down her cup of water hard enough to splash some liquid out. She picked up her chopsticks and pointed them at his face. "'Cause we can find out."
Kano threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, anytime, love. Swing by my room later."
Zali kept staring him down, jaw clenched, teeth grinding. She forced herself to stay seated—resisting the urge to lock her hands around his throat or pop his eye out with a spoon.
Cole nudged her. "Hey."
She blinked up at him, confused.
"You gonna eat that?" He smiled, nodding to the food she'd been pushing around her plate. He'd noticed she never ate much, but whenever he asked, she'd just blame the food.
"Dumbass," Zali muttered, biting back a smile as she slid the dish over to him.
Cole shrugged and started eating, content now that he seemed to be getting better at keeping the peace as he stepped up to lead this group.
There was a commotion outside as monks rushed in, shouting in Mandarin that a masked person was approaching the temple walls. Liu stood and relayed the message, and Cole was the first to rise, with the rest following quickly.
By the time they arrived shortly after, Raiden was already there, speaking to the stranger through the barrier. The only things visible to the champions were his black-and-blue garb and a silver medallion woven on his belt.
"He's Lin Kuei." Liu summoned a fireball, keeping it ready in his hands. Cole materialized his armor, and Jax, in particular, went rigid, flexing his arms ready to go.
"Um, Blade?" Zali raised a brow at Sonya, wary at the growing alarm amongst the group. "Why do we hate blue ninjas?"
"An assassin from the same clan was hunting us. Took Jax's arms."
"Oh hell nah." Zali was already squaring her shoulders defensively as Raiden let him enter the barrier. He approached.
Cole stepped forward to meet him, and the stranger set his bag down and removed his silver-and-blue mask.
"Kuai Liang," he stated as he bowed. His mark was on his upper left arm, and a fresh, angry scar cut down his right eye. "I'm here to pledge my allegiance to Earthrealm and compete in Mortal Kombat."
"Last Lin Kuei that came around here tried to murder us—my family. Tried to end my bloodline twice," Cole said, crossing his arms. "Raiden thinks we can trust you, Kuai, but the rest of us—we're not convinced."
"I'm well aware." Kuai inclined his head. "It's true we are trained to be assassins. We've operated in the shadows since before Bi-Han's time. You'd be foolish to accept me without caution."
"What about the rest of the Lin Kuei?" Jax questioned skeptically.
Kuai's gaze wandered a moment before answering. "Sektor, our former Grandmaster, became obsessed with her new vision for the clan and forced us into a cyber initiative. I refused to be turned into a machine, so I challenged her and took her place. I made my intentions clear—as Grandmaster, the Lin Kuei will no longer serve themselves or the highest bidder, but will be guardians of Earthrealm. Not everyone agreed. Most scattered. Some want my head."
"We already got Black Dragon and Red Dragon under the same roof. What's one more?" Kano put his arm over Zali's shoulder.
Zali shoved him off and punched him in the arm. "Speak for yourself, pedazo de mierda."
A handful of annoyed glares shot their way, while Kuai's attention on the pair was cool and calculating.
Zali shifted on her feet, uncomfortable at every type of scrutiny she was receiving.
Cole sighed, gestured to Kuai to speak privately, and closed the distance. "Your sudden change of heart sounds like convenience to me. You understand if you betray us, we'll take you out. Just like Bi-Han."
"I do," Kuai answered. "I won't."
Cole nodded once, never breaking eye contact with him, and let him pass.
Kuai walked past Zali as Liu led him to a room to keep his things, and she shivered from the cold Kuai seemed to bring with him.
Zali didn't bother going back to finish breakfast; she headed straight for her room to get ready.
Johnny sidled up next to Jax while Sonya was the first in the sand pit, shadowboxing. "Is she seeing anyone right now?"
Jax snorted and shook his head. "You're outta your damn mind, Johnny. Get out there."
Zali hopped off the steps into the sand pit. She wore the same band tee she'd cropped sleeveless and the jeans she'd cut into shorts on day one—she didn't have much of her own clothes, but it was too damn hot for extra fabric anyway.
She exchanged curious glances with Johnny and Sonya as they waited, their usual partners now sitting on the sidelines.
Kuai emerged, mask on, footsteps silent and his footing sure. He came down the stairs and met them in the center.
His gaze swept across the trio as he stood before them, hands clasped behind his back. "I'm told you're the three with dormant abilities. We're going to fix that now."
"Three on one?" Zali scoffed, crossing her arms with an unamused eye roll. "You're serious?"
Snowflakes and glimmering whisps of ice swirled around his palms and through his fingertips. "Yes."
He let three short ice spears fly. Johnny flipped out of the way while Sonya and Zali hit the ground and rolled away. The shot of adrenaline was enough to sharpen Zali's mind.
The others spectating stood, jaws slack. "Just like Bi-Han?" Cole questioned, turning to Liu.
Liu twisted the beads in his palm, tone more solemn. "It's not unheard of—Kung Lao's arcana was the same as his ancestor."
Jax shook his head. "Let's hope this ice-man's actually on our side."
In the pit, the three stayed ready in their stances, circling Kuai.
"Now's not the time to freeze," Johnny quipped to Zali and Sonya.
"Not time for your mouth either," Sonya didn't miss a beat.
"Get a room. Carajo." Zali groaned.
Johnny grinned. Sonya scowled.
"Focus." Kuai cast a blast of ice around himself, driving them back.
They moved in together on the offensive—Kuai kept them all at bay. Zali slipped through and caught Kuai with two clean body shots.
"There you go, Zali," Cole cheered her on.
"She's finally improving." Liu nodded. "I was beginning to worry."
Zali went in for a kick to end the combination. Kuai grabbed her leg and dropped an elbow on the side of her knee. He hooked the other at the ankle with a sweep kick. Zali hit the ground flat on her back, watching bands of electricity pulsing overhead in her daze.
Cole grimaced, "That had to hurt."
Kuai sidestepped Johnny's rush, kicking him in the back of the head and knocking him down. He instantly formed an ice figure in his likeness, launching it at Sonya.
Glowing purple rings blasted through the ice-clone as it was barreling toward her. Johnny and Kuai stopped in their tracks, while Zali dragged herself to her feet.
Sonya was grinning at the rings encircling her wrists and forearms.
"Excellent, Sonya," Kuai gave her a nod of recognition. "You're dismissed."
Of course, she gets that shit like nothing.
Zali rolled her neck, not meeting Johnny's eyes as he glanced over to check on her.
Kuai switched to hand-to-hand, maintaining full composure against both Zali and Johnny.
Johnny caught Kuai with a flurry of kicks, but Kuai backed him off, creating an ice wall that trapped Johnny behind it.
A green aura rose around Johnny's silhouette, and he kicked through the wall, ice raining down.
Johnny whooped and jumped. "Hell yeah! I'm gonna call it... wait for it... 'the Shadow Kick'. How fuckin' awesome is that?"
Zali rested her hands on her hips.
"Wonderful. Someone give him a sticker."
"Has no one taught you to keep your guard up while your opponent is still standing?" Kuai eyed her, not having broken a sweat, barely a stray strand escaping his hair tie.
Zali's attention snapped back to Kuai, her eyes narrowing at him.
"Ándale, pues," she huffed.
Kuai closed in, landing a blow to the ribs that made her hiss and retreat. He froze the ground in front of him, slid, and collided with her. Zali went airborne momentarily, toppling over his back and slamming her into the ground with a thud and a plume of dust.
"Damn, this guy's no joke. Poor Zali," Jax commented to Cole as they watched Zali and Kuai go one-on-one.
"Shit. Well, if she gets her arcana for it." Cole said it, but he wasn't exactly a fan of Kuai's extra harshness with her.
Zali's arms trembled as she pushed herself up. Kuai shaped two daggers of ice in his hands.
She barely dodged the first—felt it whiz past her hip. The second scraped across her left forearm, tearing her flesh open and cauterizing as it passed.
"Chingada madre," Zali snarled through gritted teeth, falling to a knee.
"That's enough." Kuai straightened, inhaled, and the chill surrounding him dissipated.
"What?" Her head shot up, brows furrowed. "You hit me with that shit, and what—I just fuckin' take it?"
"You're clearly not ready," Kuai declared, turning to walk away.
Zali was already on her feet, holding her injured arm tight to her abdomen, catching up to him. She grabbed him by his bicep with her good arm and forced him to face her. "Yo, Scarface, I'm not finished with you yet."
"Blow's always on your mind, ain't it?" Kano heckled her for the reference from atop the steps.
Kuai didn't back down, his irises ice-blue as his eyes flicked down to her hand and back to her face—cold and assessing. Zali drew her hand back, the shift in temperature unsettling her.
He removed his mask. "If Earthrealm is to succeed, its champions must train to earn that title. You, Quetzali, are little more than a guard dog. An ill-tempered, poorly trained one at that."
He didn't spare her a second glance as he strode off, leaving her speechless and wounded.
"Woof." Johnny chuckled, approaching and setting his hand on Zali's shoulder. "Talk about the cold shoulder, am I right?"
She smacked Johnny's hand off, scowling. "Don't fuckin' touch me, Cage."
Johnny raised his hands, backing off. "Hey, I'm just saying—don't prove him right, chica."
Zali stormed off with her head down, dirt lingering in patches on her skin. Cole watched her refuse Liu's offer to get the injury looked at, waving him away, sharp and wordless.
Back in her little room, after cleaning herself up, she paced.
Thanks to Kuai, everyone had discovered their arcana except her. She looked at the burn on her forearm from the ice, and it pissed her off.
A wave of chills hit her then, cursing Kuai like it was his fault they'd started, and not her symptoms.
She dug through her backpack, resting on a chest at the foot of her bed, and took out her favorite oversized hoodie—the one constant anytime she'd run—to cover it. In the open air, it smelled like incense and a faint trace of bud, and it irked her more. She shook it out, failing to remove the scent.
A tiny plastic zip bag fell out of the pocket, patting lightly on the floor as she pulled the hoodie on. She sat in the little nook of stone by the window, faint moonlight spilling in through the blue electrical pulses that protected them—every day feeling more like it was imprisoning her.
Dropping her head, she caught the shine from the translucent plastic lying in the middle of her room. She picked at the ends of her sleeves and stared until it clicked for her.
No. Is that...?
Relief was closer than it had ever been—and escape. Her breath shuddered and caught in her throat. She stood, lifting it off the floor. The weight of it in her palm, between her fingers, was all too familiar. Zali went to her door, reaching out for the handle, but her hand hovered there, trembling while the other squeezed tightly.
But I wanna change—A whisper.
You're too lost to be saved—A scream.
Finally, she raised her hand and threw the latch.
Cole and Zali continued to sneak through the alleys, keeping close to the walls, heads on a swivel.
"So... Cole." Zali drawled quietly. "How long have you had your—" she lifted her wrist, flashing the dragon mark at him, "thing?"
He glanced over his shoulder at her, then focused back on leading them to safety.
"My whole life. Used to think it was a birthmark."
"No way." Her eyebrows knit together. "Then how the hell did I get mine?"
"Kill anyone last week?" he asked, too casual.
"What? No!" She got a little too loud and quickly lowered her voice with a grimace. "At least, I don't think I did."
"You don't think you did?" he chuckled, this time turning around to look at her.
"Kinda... woke up with it," she shrugged.
"Well, I'm no expert on all this. Still pretty new to it myself."
"Shit," she muttered. "That's reassuring."
They kept going, nearing the harbor.
"Hold up." Cole thought he heard something ahead. He held his hand out, stopping Zali in her tracks.
Hanging back, she could feel sweat beading on her skin, making her shudder. Antsy, Zali's fingers tapped against the baggie tucked in her pocket. The urge to pull it out and take a hit right there crept in—after all, it wasn't like Cole was anyone to her. But something held her back, not around him. It just didn't feel right.
Cole peeked around the corner, checked the phone, and waved her on.
With a heavy sigh, she followed. It took her a second to realize she knew this alley.
"Oh shit." She glanced up the side of the building.
She set a hand on Cole's shoulder to stop him from continuing. "Hey, I gotta grab some stuff real quick."
"What?" Cole asked in an exasperated whisper.
Zali, already across the way at the dumpster, shoved it over, the stiff wheels scraping loudly against the cement.
"Zali." Cole pinched the bridge of his nose. "What the hell are you doin'?"
"My place is right here," she grunted as she gave the container one last push. "I'll be like five seconds, tops."
"People are tryin' to kill us right now. Your apartment's the worst place to stop!"
"I need my girl stuff," she said before she hopped to the first rung of the fire escape ladder.
Unbelievable... Cole thought. Johnny wasn't even this difficult.
"Anything happens, I'll scream. We'll do the Rapunzel thing. It'll be fine." Zali was already halfway up, quickly scaling the last half.
"Rapunzel thing?" Cole muttered, brow furrowed. "This chick is insane."
Once inside, Zali went straight for the table. A mirror and a rolled-up dollar bill were already on top. The dragon on her wrist, the mercenaries after her, and the idea of 'superpowers' were too much to process sober. She poured out what was left, prepped a line, and snorted it quickly—the familiar gravelly feeling coated her throat. Breathing deep, she wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
With new alertness, she reminded herself out loud, "Go bag. Go bag."
She rushed to her room for it, tossing anything in her way behind her as she dug the backpack from under her bed.
She put it on and hurried back to the living room—just as her front door flew off its hinges. She threw herself to the ground, the door barely missing her. Scrambling off the floor to the fire escape, she caught the glint of a machete being hurled at her and ducked.
The machete flew over the balcony, clanging to the ground near Cole.
"I hate being right." He almost ran to the dumpster to climb up, but Zali burst out quickly, sliding down the ladder.
"Move your ass, bro, we got company." She spotted the machete and snatched it up.
"Maybe next time you'll listen," Cole shot back as they turned to run.
Zali mimicked him in a mock-deep voice.
They hustled down the alley, but before they reached the end, a purple plume of smoke burst, launching yellow projectiles at them. Cole's tonfas appeared in his grip as he knocked aside the first volley. Zali crouched, covering her head with her free hand, trying to scramble for cover before another volley sped toward her. Cole grabbed her arm, yanking her back into him as the shots slammed into his shoulders and back.
Everything went too silent right after that chaos.
"You good?" he asked, scanning the area around them.
"Uh... yeah." She could feel his breath, almost too warm on her neck, where her pulse raced on overdrive. "No missing pieces."
Back on their feet, they readied their weapons. The purple plume in front of them revealed a woman in matching garb, unsheathing her katanas. Alongside her emerged the owner of the machete, a green cobra stitched to his vest.
"Two for the price of one," the purple-clad woman—Tasia—said.
"Must be our lucky day," Kobra chimed in, clenching his fists as they erupted in flames.
"Uh, Cole?" Zali flashed a brief sidelong look. "His hands are on fire."
"Better leave me the teleporter." He didn't even flinch as he said it.
"Right. 'Cause this is totally normal." She twirled the weapon in her hand. "Fuck my life."
They split up. Zali swung the machete, trying to stay on the offensive and keep the flames as far from her body as possible. Cole's only goal was to keep himself between Zali and the teleporter. Kobra caught her with a vicious kick to the abdomen, sending her crashing into the dumpster.
Cole, locked in combat with Tasia, was too distracted to help.
"And you're supposed to be chosen?" Kobra taunted, lurching over to Zali. "C'mon. That was too easy."
Two gunshots rang out suddenly to Zali's left side, and Kobra went down for good.
Sonya, standing farther off, was checking out the new mark appearing on her forearm. She smirked, the bittersweet satisfaction of taking a life and finally claiming her place among the champions sinking in.
Tasia appeared before Zali, lifting her katanas to strike. A flaming dragon engulfed her before she could swing. Tasia screamed briefly before falling silent. A charred corpse crashed to the pavement. Zali stood there, wide-eyed at the display in front of her.
"Fighting fire with... more fire? Okay, makes sense, right? Right?" Zali looked around as she scrambled to her feet, but no one responded to her.
"Perfect timing," Cole huffed in relief.
"You were taking too long, Cole," Sonya said, arms crossed.
"Yeah, no shit." Cole set his hands on his hips and gave Zali a look. "Zali, this is Sonya and Liu."
"Liu Kang," he said, giving Zali a slight bow.
"'Sup?" Zali was still dazed from the fireballs and teleporting. The acrid scent of burning flesh clung to her nostrils, making her gag. She turned away. Hands on her knees, she retched until she was dry heaving.
Zali groaned, wiped her mouth, and stayed crouched over. "If you guys ever have another barbecue—miss me with that invite."
Sonya holstered her gun. "We need to go before anything else shows up."
"Any... thing?" Zali repeated, a confused eyebrow shooting up.
Cole's armor and tonfas faded away. He patted Zali on the shoulder, and she hesitantly fell in step behind him.
They made their way to the beat-up hatchback.
"That's a pretty sketchy getaway car," Zali eyed Sonya warily.
"Next time, I'll bring the armored truck. Definitely won't draw attention," Sonya was already slipping in the driver's seat, Cole taking shotgun, and Liu getting in the back.
"Zali," Cole called out, "You comin'?"
Zali shook her head. She opened the hatch, tossed her backpack inside, and climbed in after it. Liu and Cole shared a look of confusion.
"Don't start with the seat belt bullshit right now." Zali closed the door behind her. She flopped back, using the pack as a pillow. She dug her hand in her pocket and lit a cigarette.
"Seriously?" Sonya glanced at Cole in the passenger seat.
Cole shrugged, rolling his window down. "Yeah, she takes some getting used to."
Hours passed. The car droned along in silence as city lights shrank in the rearview mirror, until nothing but road and wilderness remained.
Zali's soft snores barely carried over the hum of the engine. At one point, Liu leaned over the back seat and gently plucked a lit cigarette from her mouth—she'd fallen asleep with it still between her lips.
Cole just gazed out at nothing, eyes flicking to the side mirror, always checking for any strange pursuers that might pop up. Here near the west coast, dawn was barely peeking over the horizon. He wondered what Allison and Emily were doing back home in Chicago. Probably already awake, having a lazy Saturday morning since they weren't leaving the house while he was gone.
"Missing your girls?" Sonya asked.
"How'd you guess?" he rolled his eyes at his own predictability. "Just want them to be okay. Safe. Not worrying about me and everything else. I hate bein' away, but I know I have to."
"If it's any consolation, you're two for two on recruits. Our only two."
"Or three for three," he pointed to Sonya's new marking.
"See?" Sonya patted his arm. "We should be sending you out every time."
"Nah, you can thank Zali for that one."
"Zali, huh?" Sonya smirked. "Girl's a character, that's for sure."
"I get the feeling she might scare more off than she brings in." Liu chimed in from the back seat.
Zali hardly stirred the entire two days on the road, spending most of the time curled up in the hatchback, sleeping off her bender.
Every so often, Liu would check to make sure she was getting enough air, since the temperature was rising the farther south they went. She'd barely peek out occasionally, and without asking, Liu would pass her water or a snack. She gradually moved up from nods to a quiet "Thanks, man," before knocking back out.
As the car jolted down a rutted dirt road, the bounce finally woke her and kept her awake.
"Ow! Mierda." Zali sat up, squinting against the harsh light. "Don't think this hunk-of-fuckin'-junk's suspension was made for the dunes, mujer."
Sonya glanced at her in the rearview mirror, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Glad to see you're done hibernating. We're almost there."
They parked in the middle of nowhere. The desert. The ideal place to disappear someone. Zali stopped herself from pulling on that thread of thought.
"Now what? We get to ride the fire dragon the rest of the way?" Zali asked.
"Now we walk," Liu replied.
They started walking, boots crunching in the sand. Zali sized up the group as they moved in a cluster. Cole, she had a read on for the most part—straightforward, what you see is what you get. Liu seemed easy, too: chill, soft-spoken, content to let the quiet do the work. But Sonya was harder to read.
Zali drifted up beside her, eyes on her holstered weapon. "Saw the way you handled your gun when you dropped that guy," she said. "You must be the cop, then."
"Special Forces." Sonya didn't slow her stride.
Zali nodded, not exactly a thank you, but it was the best she could do. She fell back in line, glancing at Cole and Liu once more before trudging on.
Finally, a mirage faded into a temple carved into the mountainside. The sheer height cast a sudden shadow over them all. Sonya and Liu kept going. Zali stopped. Cole hung back.
"Don't forget to breathe," Cole said.
"Huh?" Zali blinked a few times before looking up at him.
"You're pale. Kinda look like you wanna pass out."
"We're supposed to..." She hesitated skeptically, clearing her throat to make her voice louder. "Go in there?"
"Safest place in the world for people like us right now." Cole stayed beside her until she was ready to move, leading her the rest of the way.
She crossed the threshold, and a blue electrical barrier sealed behind them. When Zali turned to look ahead, she was met with eyes glowing with bolts of lightning.
"Our newest champion," Raiden intoned, his eyes flickering with ethereal light as he regarded Zali. "Welcome. Forgive my brevity, but I must investigate a disturbance. I must also ensure that every portal to Earthrealm remains sealed—our adversaries are relentless. Vigilance is our only defense."
He turned to Cole and offered a solemn nod. "They are in your care now."
With a gesture, Raiden summoned a portal. Lightning crackled at its edge. He stepped through, vanishing as swiftly as he'd appeared.
Zali remained slack-jawed.
"Lord Raiden. Protector of Earthrealm—" Cole began, but Zali cut him off with a raised hand.
"Bro. You're gonna need to give me a second," she muttered, still frozen. When the shock passed, she finally continued forward.
Across the room, Kano tossed his knives into wooden targets and practice dummies, waving the pair off as if they were about to approach. They weren't—Zali didn't question it.
"Is that...?" Zali recognized Johnny's face—especially in the sunglasses—as he leaned back in a wooden chair, his hands behind his head, his feet crossed and propped up on a table.
"Yup, that's him," Cole confirmed.
Further inside, Jax was posted at the computer, Sonya already at his side, skimming through more potential leads. Cole introduced them, and Zali really tried not to stare at his cybernetic arms as he welcomed them.
"Major Jax Briggs." Without a second thought, he held his hand out for a handshake, and Zali accepted, drawing her own hand back cautiously.
"Military experiment or...?"
"They're what I got from the mark." Jax folded his arms. "I get it, kid. I still stare sometimes, too."
"Uh, they've got a nice finish?" Zali offered, tilting her head with a slight grimace.
Jax smirked, glancing at Cole, who turned away to keep from laughing. Sonya just shook her head.
"C'mon, I'll show you where to get cleaned up, then we'll talk," Sonya said, and Zali followed.
Afterward, the group gathered and gave Zali the rundown of Mortal Kombat.
"Whoa, slow down." Zali signaled a time-out with her hands. "This thing's a fucking death match?!"
"Exactly what I said," Johnny said, nodding.
"Yo, I ain't exactly the picture of mental stability, but I've spent a long time trying not to die. Okay, sure, I won some trophies as a kid—I'm no warrior. You're taking the Guerrero shit way too seriously."
"The surname was originally given to literal warriors," Sonya quipped.
"A technicality," Zali retorted, rolling her eyes. "All fine and good when y'all go Super Saiyan. I can't do shit like that."
Johnny crossed his arms with a grin. "I would've been perfect for that movie."
Zali shot him a narrow-eyed glare. "You would've. It sucked."
Everyone tried to stifle their laughter, but Kano howled.
"Tough critic." Johnny held a hand to his chest as if he'd just been punched. "Give it time, you'll come around."
Liu pointed to Zali's wrist, nearly touching it. "This means you have an arcana, Zali. You have latent abilities—you just need to find them."
Zali moved her arm away, tracing over the symbol with her thumb before glancing around at the group. "Things made a lot more sense when I was high," she mumbled. "Unless y'all are on something better. If that's the case, hook it up."
"She says in front of the feds in the room," Jax muttered to Johnny.
Cole started, "Zali... Earthrealm needs all the champions it can get. If Outworld didn't already hunt them down, they're being turned against us. We're outnumbered."
"If Outworld wins this tournament, we're essentially ushering in the apocalypse," Sonya added.
Zali rested her hands on her hips, dropping her head back and sighing. "This is sounding less and less like I had a real choice."
"Fuckin' Red Dragon junkie like you ain't got much else goin' for ya," Kano taunted, looking her up and down. "'Sides warmin' Mavado's lap. We all saw your greatest hits video, love."
"Shut your fuckin' mouth before I kick your ass from here to Down Unda'," Zali spat, stepping forward with her fists clenched.
Kano's eye laser zipped past her, hitting the decorative tapestry on the far wall. It slowly burned away. Zali stood stunned, wide-eyed.
Liu hung his head and shook it. "That was over three thousand years old."
"Any excuse to use that damn thing," Jax said, shoving Kano back.
"What?" Kano complained. "Just tryin' to help her get her arcana since she's over here bitchin' about it."
"I need air," Zali sighed, turning on her heel and heading toward the archway to the balcony.
"Latinas," Kano let out a low whistle, crossing his arms and deliberately watching her walk away. "Great view south of the border. Never disappoints."
Cole shot Kano a warning look.
The corner of Kano's mouth quirked. "Red Dragon tail ain't got any honor worth defending. Don't tell me that sheila stuck her claws in ya, golden boy."
"Got higher hopes for her than you, dickhead," Cole fired back.
Kano's cackle faded behind him as Cole followed after Zali. She was kicking loose pebbles through the gaps in the railing.
"Hey," Cole came up alongside her, resting his forearms against the barricade.
"I got my answers, huh?" Zali grumbled.
"Weren't the answers you were expecting?"
"Nope. Sounded a hell of a lot worse than what you pitched me. Coulda warned me about the Black Dragon puto, though. 'Warmin' Mavado's lap...' please," she scoffed. "If that bastard could only get so lucky. Party with someone once, and suddenly you're property. I swear, man, both crews are nothin' but a bunch of assholes."
"At this point, we gotta take what we can get," he shrugged, pushing off the barricade to face her.
"Yeah, scraping people like me from the bottom of the barrel. Y'all weren't kiddin' about being desperate."
"Still ranking you higher than Kano, though," he chuckled, noticing Zali wasn't responding to the humor. "So, you got the full story now. Having second thoughts?"
"How do I say 'no' to the 'fate of the Earth,' Cole?" she threw her hands in the air. "Hell, I thought I was the type of person to say no—"
"But you're not." He finished. There was definitely a lot more to Zali than met the eye.
"Guess if I were, I woulda taken my chances joining the Red Dragon a long time ago." She dug a little hole in a pile of dirt with the tip of her shoe. "I got half a mind to crawl in there," she muttered.
"Y'know, you said it felt less like you had a choice," Cole paused a beat. "Soon after this got dropped on me, I was told there was a prophecy—about me. The Hasashi bloodline. Bringing this team together and leading them is my destiny. Crazy shit, right?"
"That's heavy." Zali watched him—the way the breeze swayed the hair on his temple, how he glanced away while feeling the absurdity of his words, the curve of his half-smile—unaware she mirrored it. "And you believe that?"
"Everything that's happened so far... maybe," he shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know yet. But one thing I do know, I'd still fight. I'm choosing to."
Their eyes met while Zali was still smiling at him. Quickly realizing it, she directed her attention elsewhere, shoving her hands in her pockets with an exaggerated purse of her lips.
"Who knows?" Zali rocked on her heels. "Maybe there's some truth to your prophecy." She threw up air quotes when she said it. "I'm impossible to lock down—and somehow, you managed to get me here."
"So..." he drawled, quirking a brow, sensing her heavy guard faltering for a moment, "is that a yes?"
"Yes, pendejo." She laughed. "It's a yes."
They turned around at the ruckus Kano was making on his way to eat.
"Who needs a dinner bell when you've got this guy?" Cole said, moving to follow the noise.
"Surprised y'all don't just lose your appetite," Zali snorted, trailing close behind.
Cole glanced over his shoulder as she caught up. "Welcome to Team Earthrealm, Guerrero."
Zali chortled, nudging him with her elbow. "I know you're like team captain and all, but if you call us that dumb shit again, I'm quitting. Prophecy or not."
"No promises."
Bangkok, Thailand - January 2020
The Shaolin Sunset.
It had been a while since Feng used it, and it was well overdue—especially once he casually dropped his guard and took an elbow to the cheek. His patience ran out, even when he coldly surveyed his opponent, who desperately called it quits.
Feng took his stance. The crowd surrounding the cage cheered and whistled. Despite the noise, he could still hear the crack, felt it too.
Broken ribs—definitely. Collapsed lung—most likely. He convulsed for a bit, then went still.
He should live. The key word being 'should'.
Feng didn't care to check back. He grabbed the beads hanging in the fencing by the cage door and slipped them over his head before stalking off to the bar. Just another night in underground purgatory. At this rate, he didn't see them ending.
Like clockwork, the bartender slid over his beer and a towel for the blood on his chest.
"Silver-haired man at the table asked for you," the bartender gestured to the table in front of the ring.
That was a first. Feng glanced at the table briefly, sizing up the seated men.
The one who'd asked for him—silver-haired with a loose posture—was already starting a collection of empty glasses in front of him. In the other chair sat a man in a suit with a briefcase, peering around warily. Too fidgety to belong in this part of town.
Feng presented himself as requested, standing with all easy, cocky swagger, taking a quick pull of his beer.
The man didn't give an introduction, just mimicked Feng's form, and commented on the Shaolin Sunset's infamous reputation.
Feng chuckled, not hiding his amusement with an easy tilt of his head and an unbothered nod. He set the bottle down, wiped off the blood, and leaned on the table, just long enough to brag unashamed about the move's legality in Bangkok and his execution of it. The man seemed genuinely impressed. All the while, Feng clocked the accent.
American. Commission, maybe. So he asked.
Silver said no and rose to his feet. Even intoxicated, his presence remained assured and sure, standing taller. Feng stood his ground, but wasn't prepared to have to look up at him to maintain eye contact. Silver proceeded to list Feng's current financial complications with a patronizing sympathy.
Feng's internal defenses shot through the roof.
Silver pressed his lips in a thin line, eyebrows raised. "... you got into bed with the wrong people, friend.
"Ah." Feng nodded slowly with half a smirk before dropping it and raising a skeptical brow. "Are you my friend now?"
"No." Silver shook his head. "I'm your savior..."
Then came the offer—his debts paid in full. That really got his attention. He needed to know the catch—win the Sekai Taikai and humiliate some other dojos to get his Iron Dragons back for good.
Feng loved the sound of that deal. Without hesitation, he jumped at the opportunity.
"Consider it done."
Silver was beyond pleased.
The lawyer stood to protest. Feng didn't bother to cast a glance in his direction. His eyes stayed locked on Silver. He recognized the real predator in the room. Though he still wasn't sure what type of animal this one was.
Silver cut his lawyer off harshly, spewing venom about what the other dojos took from him. He tossed back the rest of his drink and slammed the empty glass on the tabletop. "Draw it up."
His lawyer shrank back and sat down.
Silver looked back to Feng. "I'll make the call to my man in Hong Kong. Welcome back, Sensei Wolf." He held his hand out for a handshake. "Terry Silver."
Feng accepted with a firm grip.
"Now," Silver clapped his hands together. "We have work to do. How soon can you be packed?"
They didn't wait until morning. Less than two hours later, Feng was being chauffeured by one of Silver's men to a private airstrip.
Feng settled into the jet's plush leather seat. Being at ease, surrounded by luxury, felt like a lifetime ago. The attendant flashed a practiced smile, but her poise slipped as she batted her lashes at him while pouring his drink. He sipped from the crystal glass and let his eyes wander before zeroing in on Silver again.
Silver smirked over the rim of his glass. "Nice, right? This is only the beginning."
Feng shrugged, nonchalant. "Fortunately for you, I've been destroying dojos at the Sekai Taikai since I was a teenager."
"Fortunately for us." Silver laughed in delight. "I'm familiar with your career, Wolf. A man of vision. You and I, we're not so different."
Feng wasn't biting. Not yet. He rested his elbows on his knees, all business. "Tell me about your friends, the spoilers. Who are they?"
"Miyagi-Do," Silver scoffed. "A constant thorn in my side. Always shouting down from their self-righteous moral high ground, convinced they're David slaying Goliath."
Miyagi.
The name sounded vaguely familiar to Feng. He couldn't quite place where he might have heard it before, so he pushed the thought aside—Irrelevant.
"The other... Cobra Kai. Oh, they were my legacy. Everything I fought for, bled for, stolen right from under me," Silver's grip on the arm of his seat tightened as he spoke. "But not for long. I'll be ending with a new legacy."
Maybe he and Silver really were more alike than he initially thought.
"We both play our parts, we both come out on top." Silver lifted his glass. "To taking back what's ours."
Their glasses clinked.
Once they'd landed, three hours later, the sun still hadn't risen. A car waited for them. Feng was introduced to the driver, Dennis De Guzman.
Silver had opted for a hotel, but Feng declined, preferring to stay in one of the dojo's apartments rather than straying too far.
The dojo was their first stop.
Dennis unlocked the door, handed Feng a set of keys, then turned to leave in the car with Silver.
Feng stepped inside and switched on the lights. Dust motes floated in the air after his shoes disturbed them off the floorboards. Cobwebs hid in all the corners.
He took a breath—relief, or something painfully close to hope. Despite the place needing cleaning, everything was exactly as he'd left it. He turned the lights back off and headed up the stairs to the third floor.
He kept his eyes forward, walking down the hall, straight to room 1. It was stuffy, so he cracked the window. At least the last of his possessions and furniture inside had been protected with plastic covers.
He'd hold off on unpacking. He had students and families to contact as soon as the hour was decent.
On the first day of his class's return, Feng was already busy pulling out pads and weapons when Silver strode into the building.
"That's what I like to see," Silver grinned, a laptop bag slung over his shoulder, sauntering over to the wall containing every Iron Dragons' achievement, skimming over every one. "You know, this year will be quite the event. Barcelona—the first Sekai Taikai in Europe. They'll have a showcase of former champions to celebrate the expansion."
Silver took his leave and disappeared up the stairwell.
Former champions.
Feng stopped in front of the trophy case. He lingered by the section from 2016, eyes drawn to the one team photo he'd always avoided—eighteen-year-old Jackie grinning brightly beside him, cheeks flushed with her excitement while she proudly held her trophy.
He didn't want Jackie on his mind at all. But with Silver mentioning this champions' showcase—how could he not be thinking of her? Would she even be considered?
For almost four years, she'd stayed away. The 2018 Sekai Taikai passed without her even as a spectator. Seven circuits Feng continued competing in that she could have been eligible for, and she never once appeared.
Don't dwell on it. You don't want her to be there. She won't.
He turned away to focus on the students filing in, to prepare them to win. To take his life back with a clean slate.
Upstairs, Silver set himself up in Feng's office—his office for the time being—waiting for a call. A copy of previous Sekai Taikai records sat nearby on the desk. He opened his laptop and a browser and typed 'Rojas-Pierce' into the search bar.
No social media accounts existed under the surname. An independent wildlife blog written by a random mother popped up as the first result:
"Jackie Rojas-Pierce has been hands-on in wildlife since she could walk..."
He clicked into the link and scrolled, pausing once he found Jackie's picture. In uniform under a palo verde tree, with a long ponytail through a ball cap and a soft smile, hints of tattoos on her toned arms and legs.
December 2019, Havasu National Wildlife Refuge.
"Wow." Silver's eyes traced over her, lips twisted into a slow, thoughtful smile as he reclined in the chair.
"Jackie 'Fuego' Rojas. Aren't you a PR dream..."
Parker, Arizona - January 2018
Jackie put her headset on and logged in, settling in for an all-nighter of endless waves of zombies to mow down. The party invitation popped up right away—her friends' group chat titled Tha Girlies—and she joined.
"Orale! What's new witchu, Bella?" PurpNHazy619 greeted excitedly.
HanaBella97—the new username Jackie created after rewatching The Silence of the Lambs. No one ever seemed to catch the Hannibal Lecter reference—they just assumed her name was Bella.
She never bothered to change it, or correct anyone.
Jackie sighed. "Well, some guy asked me out while I was working this morning—wants to meet up for dinner tomorrow night. But, I dunno, I just... don't do that."
"I mean... is he hot?" MsGooberMaxx asked.
"Uh, I guess," Jackie replied.
"You guess?" MsGooberMaxx sounded skeptical.
Jackie opened the family-size bag of Hot Cheeto Puffs in her lap and rolled her eyes. "Mmm, pues estaba en medio de picking up coyote shit. I hardly looked at him. Wasn't tryin' to chill allí en el pinche sol smellin' like that."
"First of all, gross," PurpNHazy619 chimed in with a snort. "And shit, dude, if he's payin'."
MsGooberMaxx laughed, "Do it, chiquilla. For the tea and the free food, at least."
Jackie joined in. "Alright. What the hell."
The next evening...
Sure, he worked out. But damn, did he love the sound of his own voice.
All these fighting metaphors about his cozy office job, when the hardest fight he ever put up was to get his hair to stay in place.
Jackie sipped her ice water, poking the floating lemon with her straw, irritated that she still had another five months before she could order a stiff drink in the States.
That would've made it more bearable.
Keith... or was it Kevin—he was old enough—ordered a Long Island Iced Tea that he wasted no time in downing. Jackie watched in envy as the contents of his glass disappeared. He seemed to make a point of flexing even with his elbows on the table.
Jackie's small, polite smiles and nods as he droned on were enough for him to think he'd be taking her back to his townhouse.
He put his hand on her knee, intending to move it higher, but with one swift flick of Jackie's wrist, she got a tight hold of his arm.
"What the fuck?" He narrowed his eyes down at her. "You tryin' to fight?"
"You tryin' to keep your vertebrae intact?" She met his glare with a dead-eyed stare she hadn't shown any man since stormy nights in Kowloon.
Speechless, he shrank back, visibly shaken. Jackie released his forearm.
He stood up, tucked his tail, and shuffled away. "Psycho bitch."
She balled her fists on the table but restrained herself from following—whatever the hell his name was had no idea how lucky he'd been that she didn't show him just how psycho she could be.
A certain proud smirk she hadn't pictured in years popped into her mind's eye as her date rushed out the exit. She scoffed with a small smile, too, before her stomach sank.
"Es tu culpa," she whispered to him, her eyes shut, keeping his image there just a little longer instead of letting him fade.
She opened her eyes to the server, who set the check in front of her and said, "Whenever you're ready."
Hijo de su chingada madre.
This guy didn't pay. Of course he didn't.
Her jaw clenched as she took out her credit card and hoped, by some miracle, he'd still be in the parking lot so she could knock his unnaturally white teeth out.
The only charges she left the restaurant with were from her bank, not assault—unfortunately.
Two hours later, she was swimming in her oversized comfy clothes, wet hair in a braid, standing barefoot in her kitchen, her headset on, and back online.
"So how'd it go?" MsGooberMaxx asked in a sing-song voice.
Jackie pulled out a cigarette from the emergency pack she stashed in her kitchen drawer, tossing the carton back in and flinging the drawer shut. She lit it on her way back to her desk.
"I'm gonna be a monk. Or a nun. Haven't decided yet," she said through a cynical smirk, cigarette between her lips as she plopped down in her gaming chair.
"Hijole. Bad enough to swear off sex?" MsGooberMaxx asked.
"Mira, that's why Goober's a fuckin' goober." PurpNHazy619 burst into laughter.
Jackie chuckled, taking a long drag and tapping ash into her empty soda bottle.
While her online friends chattered amongst themselves, she wondered if Feng still kept an emergency pack in his kitchen drawer, too. But smoking wasn't the real habit she was struggling to kick.
-One year later-
Bangkok became his chosen exile.
Feng's Triad connection shifted from low-level jobs to a partnership in money laundering and gambling.
When his debts climbed, the Triad came to collect. The collateral he put up—first his home, then his dojo—were worth enough that they'd spare his life. Just business, as Zhou Shen framed it. Still, the message was clear: if he made waves, he'd be a dead man. They had it all now.
In his third cage fight of the night, he finished it, hardly breaking a sweat. His hulking, grizzled opponent hadn't moved off his back in the middle of the ring.
Stepping out of the cage, he grabbed a towel to wipe the blood off his abdomen—none of it his. Which of his opponents it belonged to was anyone's guess. Maybe all three.
He tossed the towel over a stool before getting his hoodie. He pulled on the sleeves, not bothered to zip it shut. He reached into the pocket for his red Shaolin beads, slipping them over his head.
The promoter handed him his payout—and the winnings from betting on himself—with a gold cap-toothed grin. A lot for one night, but still a pathetic drop in the ocean of what he owed to get his dojo back.
The bartender already had his drinks ready. Feng slid him a bill as he sat, knocking back a double.
A fight promo played on a small TV hanging behind the bar while he turned the neck of the beer bottle in his fingers between drinks. One boxer on the muted screen had a Guatemalan flag draped over his shoulders, while the other held an American flag over his head.
Feng tuned out the immediate connection in those details and turned his attention to ordering himself stronger drinks.
Sitting in the middle of the bar—a woman with short raven hair, eyes flicking to him the entire night. Eventually, she slid into the seat beside him, tapping her glass with her nails, leaning in at every opportunity to show her interest.
It was always too easy—never had to put in any effort or even remember a name. It had been a while since he'd indulged, and by that time he'd already drunk enough to silence his better judgment.
Afterward, in her small apartment, she fell asleep quickly. The red light through the blinds painted stripes across the carpet.
He sat at the edge of the bed, feet already planted on the ground as he lit a cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly. When her weight shifted behind him and the sheets rustled, he heard a voice over his shoulder for a split second.
"Qué tienes, Feng?" Jackie muttered softly.
He almost answered.
Feng froze with the cigarette inches from his mouth as the memories invaded his senses—the scent of coconut on her skin, the warmth of her lips, the silent promises he'd made to always keep her safe.
Promises he was still keeping—and still suffering for—worsened by his own impulses.
Go away.
That was another man from another life. The time and distance from her made it as simple as throwing a switch. Jacquelyn Rojas was a chapter already cauterized out of himself like a festering wound.
He didn't linger longer than that. He dressed, slipped out, and disappeared into the Bangkok night—her ghost always following a few steps behind.
-.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·° 迷 °·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.-
ℍ𝕚𝕝𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕙𝕒𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘—𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥'𝕤 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕖.
*Translations*
Orale = what's up
pues estaba en medio de =well I was in the middle of
allí en el pinche sol = there in the damn sun
chiquilla = girl/little girl
Es tu culpa = It's your fault
Hijo de su chingada madre =son of a fucking bitch (that's what popped in my head when I asked myself what I'd say in that situation 🧼👄)
Hijole = Dang/damn
Mira = see
Qué tienes =what's wrong/what's the matter
mis amores =my loves💟
Feng stood at the head of the class, Sensei Wolf firmly in place and in control.
He knew exactly why Axel and Zara exchanged glances as they lined up. He chose to ignore it.
The entire session was dedicated to sparring. He ran the class tight, surgical. The students fell in step with no issue.
"Dismissed," he said flatly, turning to go up to his office, and everyone scattered to get their things and go home.
"Sensei." Axel caught up to him at the bottom of the stairwell.
Feng looked over his shoulder at him, a silent acknowledgment that he could continue speaking.
"Do you know where Jackie is?" Axel asked softly.
Feng's body tensed at the question in Axel's familiar tone. His ears were ringing with the echoes of Jackie's muffled sobs from the night when he'd hesitated a moment walking away from his front door.
His jaw ticked. He didn't answer. Axel tried again. "She's not answering her phone. Her apartment's empty."
"Ms. Rojas is no longer part of this dojo," Feng said, turning to him, neutral, unreadable.
She's better off.
Or so he'd barely managed to convince himself.
Axel glanced away, brows furrowed in confusion. Something felt off, and as someone who'd known Feng for years—long before he became Sensei—Axel pressed anyway. "Is she okay?"
"Her personal life is none of my concern," Feng snapped. "She's done. It's the last I care to hear of it. Understood?"
Axel stood his ground, watching Feng for a moment, before answering. "Yes, Sensei."
Feng watched Axel head towards the door where Zara waited, each with their phone in hand.
Zara rolled her eyes and shoved her phone back in her bag, clearly over it, and Axel glanced down at his screen, typing up another message.
He drove home that evening in silence, barely stepping inside his front door before the burner buzzed multiple times in his pocket.
King was sitting at the end of the foyer, just waiting. Feng walked right past him to go up to his room and get ready for a long night. King followed without a sound.
He arrived at the dock as instructed and met with his handler.
«It went better than planned. You can help with the clean up,» the man tossed him a set of keys, a cat keychain weighing the set down.
«Get rid of the car,» he gestured to a small, beat-up white sedan.
Feng said nothing, leaving to do as he was told.
He turned the key and shifted the gear to neutral. He left the driver's side door open as he headed to the back of the car and pushed until it went over the ledge. He stayed there watching it sink. It disappeared into the black water.
Back home, King lay near the front door, standing as Feng entered. Feng went up to his room, and King stayed right behind him.
"Go." He grumbled, shutting the door behind him. King curled up and closed his eyes there in the hallway.
Two weeks came and went, and most nights were spent with the odd job here and there, until on Friday night, when he was more than ready to take his frustrations out on a nameless face that needed handling.
The rush came and went, dulling instantly to numbness as soon as the job was done. His handlers informed him, with condescending praise, that he'd earned the next night off.
A scalding shower to burn away the knots twisting in every muscle in his body, the dirt, and the blood that didn't belong to him.
He got ready for bed and brushed his teeth. For a minute, he caught himself just gazing aimlessly at the toothbrush holder that was missing Jackie's toothbrush.
He shook it off, scowling when he met his own eyes in his reflection, before switching off the light with more force than necessary.
He lay in his bed, right in the middle, and tried to settle in, let the exhaustion take over, and pull him under to sleep. But sleep was a peace that made a point to avoid him tonight.
Feng walked into his study for the first time since Jackie left Hong Kong for the States. He sat down at the table where he'd do his calligraphy. A page sat there, laid out in the center, not blank—not his.
A few strokes in the beginning were barely shaky, but the phrase was unmistakable.
親愛的風—Qīn'ài de Feng.
And in the bottom corner, a small, messily scrawled note:Hope it means what I think it does. ♥
Beloved Feng.
He shut his eyes tightly, then glanced up at the doorway.
"Hey, you," Jackie knocked softly on the open door. "Couldn't sleep?"
He nodded, "Wasn't trying to wake you."
He watched her rub her eyes, sleepily approaching him in one of his grey, worn t-shirts and her shorts, unafraid of the scar showing only around him.
"What're you doing?" She came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder, and watching him do the strokes with the brush.
"Helps me relax. I can't even remember the last time I sat here."
"It's beautiful," she said, admiring his work.
"I can teach you," he offered.
"Says the guy who claims I can barely write English," she snorted, rolling her eyes.
"I can teach you that, too," he chuckled, low and honest.
"Jerk," Jackie peeled her arms away and gave him a playful shove.
She sat next to him on the bench. He passed her the brush, slipped his arm around her, and guided her hand in gentle, practiced strokes.
He looked at her, and her soft, sweet smile spread as he led the brush around the page. She bit her lip when she caught him staring.
"What?" she asked, through a laugh that was barely a breath, eyes searching his face for an answer she wouldn't have expected.
You have no idea how much I love you.
That was the answer his thoughts responded with.
The truth—too dangerous for them both.
If he said it out loud, he'd be admitting his weakness—she was his only weakness. In speaking it, it'd become too real.
Time was running out on nights spent with her like this. This wasn't something that could last in his life. He knew it. But with her this close, he'd allow it to exist—he'd file it away, separate from everything else in his mind.
In that moment, he kept it hidden within himself, lifting his hand to her cheek, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb as if to memorize the curve of her lips before leaning in, hoping this would tell her his heart and soul—what he swore his words never would.
There was a blur at the edge of his vision, and he blinked it away, hard. The page he'd been staring at now had one difference: a single tear had fallen on the heart she drew. The ink bled outward, smudging as it spread.
Unforgivable. His body's ultimate betrayal.
Feng flipped the desk as he stood, everything atop it flying and shattering throughout the room. He launched the bench across the room into a mirror, tearing down the bookshelf, ripping everything off the walls, and leaving fist-shaped holes in their place.
King barked outside the door, scratching at it, and howling at the horrors on the other side.
In the aftermath, Feng snatched up an unbroken bottle and plucked a cigar out of the debris. He slumped to the floor, head against the wall, breath ragged, surrounded by the destruction.
King whined softly and pawed outside the door, but his own despair drowned him out.
Smoke curled around him. He drank straight from the bottle, a lit cigar between his fingers, the warm blood seeping from his cut hands staining the cigar paper, burning barely lower with every long drag.
He drank until the burn in his throat went numb, wiping the liquor escaping the side of his mouth with the back of his hand.
The page lay on the floor, inches away. He wouldn't allow himself to read it again.
This was the price he agreed to pay, coming full circle, to save her from a life she wouldn't survive.
He held the cigar between his lips, lifted the page, flicked on the flame of his lighter, and held it to the corner, watching as his name and her heart turned to ash. And any trace of love in his life along with them.
-.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·° 自毀 °·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.-
100% transparency: I don't speak Mandarin and have never studied it, so I had to research endearments or ways to express love, and this is what I found. In a sense, I was just as clueless as Jackie with the little note of hoping that it meant what she thought 🤭
Parma, Ohio - June 2016
The Uber came to a halt outside of her parents' two-story home. The shadow loomed over the sidewalk like something out of a dream—or a nightmare. Jackie pulled all her luggage out of the trunk before the car drove off.
Her mom, Julie, hurriedly rushed out the door and down the steps, gathering Jackie in her arms and holding her tight through quiet sobs.
Jackie wrapped her free arm around her mom, her mom's scent a familiar comfort. Julie separated, her eyes glassy with tears, holding her baby girl's face in her hands.
Jackie got a good look at her; she looked relieved, tired, but not drunk, not hungover—healthy. Something that would've soothed a long-standing ache if Jackie had seen it a few days earlier.
Julie noticed the trophy in Jackie's grip, her knuckles white and tense. Jackie handed it to her mom. Julie read the plaque—first place.
"Oh, sweet pea." Her thumb brushed Jackie's cheek. "They'd be so proud of you. I'm so proud of you." Julie didn't need to say who else, Jackie knew: great-grandpa, grandpa, Mr. Miyagi.
Nothing about Jackie's body language matched the achievement. Her eyes were barely focused on her mom, dark and drained.
Julie ushered her inside, helping with her bags. She didn't force Jackie to speak, didn't press. She left the bags at the door and led Jackie to sit at the kitchen counter while Mom made her something to eat. Jackie picked at it, whatever she could stomach, before going upstairs to clean up after the long flight.
The shower was a blink, then she was on her way to her room.
Jackie paused in the doorway. Her bedroom was practically untouched, frozen in time. In a time before Feng.
Jackie collapsed on her bed, burying her face in her pillow to muffle the sounds of her falling apart from her mother. Exhaustion overcame her, and she drifted off to sleep.
A dream? A memory?
"Can't stay in bed all day, huǒ yàn," Feng teased gently, his voice still thick with sleep, pressing soft kisses to her neck and collarbone, his fingertips tracing lazy patterns on her bare shoulder.
"Your fault I want to, cabrón," she mumbled, smiling, half asleep, breathing in his scent, reaching out for him, squeezing the pillow in her arms.
"Feng?"
Jackie woke up when she realized she wasn't holding a body. She let go of the pillow and sat straight up, gasping, forgetting where she even was. Her chest heaved rapidly in the darkness.
This wasn't Feng's room—it was hers.
"No," she breathed out shakily. "Fuck. Please... I can't."
All the air left her lungs, and she curled in on herself. The sob that left her was wounded, gut-wrenching, and tearing through her entire trembling body. The tears burned her already swollen eyes.
Jackie rose before the sun. Every time she walked into her bathroom, she couldn't stand the sight of herself in the mirror, now staring at nothing more than an empty vessel of a person.
She had no idea how long she had carried on like this. Extra-long showers until the hot water ran out, along with her tears.
When she'd finally sorted through her luggage, one of Feng's worn navy blue shirts had gotten mixed in with her clothes. Reluctant to wash the faint bit of him that remained on it, she wore it for two days straight, clutching the collar, crying, and barely leaving her bed.
In her room, the music played low, blacked-out curtains swallowing the light of the summer afternoon into an endless night. She'd heard the murmurs outside her bedroom door. Mom was on the phone with someone, trying to determine what had happened that drove Jackie headfirst into a traumatic, isolating depression.
Life didn't stop. College enrollment? Applying for a job? Weeks passed, but Mom wasn't rushing her to figure it out; Jackie lacked the concentration to research her options anyway.
On July 1st, a Friday, the bell rang downstairs. Julie put the bread down for the sandwich she was preparing for Jackie, realizing she'd gone a whole day without eating while holed up in her cave of misery.
Julie opened the door, surprised to see a familiar face.
"Hi, Tía Julie."
"Honey," Julie rapped lightly on Jackie's door.
No answer.
Julie knocked again and tried the knob before hearing the lock unclick, and Jackie cracked the door open, squinting as the sunlight pouring in through the loft window stung her eyes.
"W'sup, ma?" she croaked.
"Someone's here to see—"
Before Julie could finish the sentence, Jackie was out the door, bare feet pattering down the hall and stairs.
All reasoning told her it wasn't him, but her aching heart wasn't listening. Still, she wasn't prepared to see the face that awaited her.
"Mariana?"
Instantly, Jackie was transported back to that camping trip; she was nine years old again, Mariana's angry face twisting into pure horror as Jackie landed in the fire. Jackie was taller than her now.
The sad smile that spread on Mariana's face said more than words ever could.
Mariana crossed the floor, pulling Jackie in for a hug and sobbing profuse apologies.
Every emotion Jackie was already feeling over Feng overloaded, mingling with a pain that had come long before him, but, in the moment, felt minimal. Her tears came shortly after.
Julie couldn't help the tears welling in her own eyes. She brought tissues and set them on the coffee table, leaving them alone. Once the tears ran out, the girls finally sat down on the couch, blowing their noses and dabbing at their eyes.
"I spent a lot of time with Tío—your dad. We got to catch up on all that time. He misses you, but you know how he is, proud y necio."
Jackie nodded. She wasn't answering her own phone anyway, with stacks of messages from Axel and Zara that had already stopped. She knew her dad hadn't tried to reach out.
"Anyway, um, I'm getting married," Mariana grinned, wiggling the fingers on her left hand, showing off her sleek diamond engagement ring. "I want you and Tía to be there."
Jackie smiled faintly. "I wouldn't miss it."
"So. The wedding's a couple days after your birthday. I was thinking maybe we hit up Hermosillo. Get some girl time pa' que pongamos locas before I settle down like a good little esposa."
"I don't know, Mari..."
"Please, Primita." Mariana took Jackie's hands. "I know it doesn't make up for anything, but I wanna try. ¿Qué dices?"
Jackie sighed, and for a second, she was ready to decline. But something about Mari's hopefulness softened her up.
"Ándale, pues."
"Ándale pues!"
On July 14th, Jackie's nineteenth birthday, the girls drove across the border to Hermosillo, Mexico.
Mariana stretched out her arms at the cantina, its indoor-and-outdoor setup lit by red, white, and green string lights. Mariachis were playing their instrumental tunes from the stage.
"A'ight, mujer, what're we drinkin'?" Mari perched herself on a barstool. Jackie slid onto the end next to her and ordered a beer.
"Aw, really?" Mariana pouted. "It's your birthday!"
"I'm trying to take it easy, Mari," Jackie reasoned.
"Mmm, I don't think it's that." Mariana pursed her lips, twirling her hair around her finger.
"Por qué pues?" Jackie asked.
"Porque tienes tu corazoncito roto. Stop me if I'm wrong."
"It's... complicated." Jackie hesitated, using the same word Feng always used to define them. How could she ever explain what they shared—what she survived with him?
"Girl, you're not the only one who's ever been dumped. It'll get better, I promise. And for now, you've got Juan, Julio, Jim, Jose—all the J-men to keep you company."
Jackie couldn't help but laugh and shook her head, "You're so stupid, Mari."
Mariana ordered them a round of tequila. Once they were three in, she took the stage, spoke with the band, and they nodded. Mari could convince anyone to drop their inhibitions. She grabbed the microphone.
«For my baby cousin, and the rest of you here, drowning your broken hearts.»
«They're gonna send us back to the States, Mari!» Jackie shouted, and the patrons laughed.
Mariana had an amazing voice, at least, belting out classic rancheras that had everyone singing along, some through laughter, others, like Jackie, almost to tears.
Jackie was swiping through photos at the bar when Mariana noticed different Japanese and Chinese characters in her reel.
"That shit's so sick!" Mariana slurred, giving Jackie a light shove. "Ooh, girl, let's get tattoos!"
"Mari, ya 'stas borracha."
"Me vale madre! It doesn't matter what anyone thinks, Jackie!"
"Alright fuck it, tattoo numero tres."
"That's my prima, still down with my crazy ass."
They stumbled out of the bar, laughing with their arms over each other's shoulders, to a nearby tattoo shop. Jackie showed the artist the single Mandarin character on her screen, and the artist sketched it out.
She lay back, head swimming, as the stencil was applied to her skin.
"Done already?" Mariana asked, the tattoo gun buzzing as a monarch butterfly was colored in on her calf, "What'd you get?"
Jackie pressed a finger over her lips. "Somethin' just for me."
The next morning, Jackie woke up with a throbbing headache in their little motel room. Mariana was still knocked out, lying on her stomach, snoring loudly, and drooling.
She staggered over to the bathroom, resting her palms on the bathroom sink. She reached for her pajama pants and felt a burning pain when her nail scraped her skin. She moved the fabric aside and caught sight of the new tattoo in the mirror—recognizing the character felt like a punch to the gut.
"I didn't," Jackie groaned at the black ink on the right side of her pelvis near her hip. At least the lines were clean and neat, and the clothes covered the tattoo easily.
"Somethin' just for me."
She barely remembered saying it the night before.Jackie sat on the closed toilet lid, dropped her head in her hands, and cried.
A week later, the wedding day came. The ceremony was beautiful. The seating assignments for the reception had Jackie sitting in between her mom... and dad.
Her dad, Reuben, stood up when they approached and hugged her tightly, placing a kiss on top of her head, then turned his attention to Julie. It was awkward for a second, but they hugged, too.
Jackie didn't stay seated very long, eating in silence and heading to the open bar to try a plum wine that Mariana swore by. As she went, Jackie overheard her Tia Brenda at the head of her assigned table, not-so-subtly eyeing her.
"Bet que 'ta embarazada."
That's perfect. Su chisme.
Leave it to her to spread the pregnancy rumor.
That Tía was all about the drama. The woman's gossip told a better novela than what was scripted for television. She would've been filthy rich if she'd ever made it to a writers' room. And everyone who bought into her story glanced at Jackie, scrutinizing her, leaning in to whisper their take.
As much as Jackie wanted to tell them all off, she kept walking.
On the dance floor, she saw her parents together, swaying slowly, looking at each other like no one else existed in their space. Then they kissed, Mom rested her head on Dad's shoulder, and he held her close.
All that time and distance, and they still needed each other. Loved each other.
Naturally, she started to think about Feng—like she'd ever stopped.
Jackie excused herself from the festivities, sat down by the edge of the pool, with a glass of wine beside her, letting her feet hang in the cool water.
She scrolled through her phone, looking at the pictures she'd moved privately to her cloud: Hong Kong, Axel, Zara, King, Feng.
She stopped on a video, remembering how it ended up being recorded: Feng had teased her relentlessly for taking selfies when she realized she hadn't taken a picture of herself in ages. He sat on the couch next to her, trying to snatch the phone. They both kept hitting the capture button until their fumbling fingers switched it to a video. No sound.
Near the end of the clip, they smiled at each other like a couple of love-struck teenagers, Jackie flinging insults and Feng shutting her up with a kiss, both still grinning like idiots, before King jumped on the couch and the phone hit the floor.
She wanted to hear his voice so bad. It'd been over a month and she hadn't tried to call, not yet. But here she was, surrounded by people who'd always made her feel invisible.
At this point, she'd take anything: him telling her to piss off and hanging up, his detached deflection, a frustrated sigh. Picturing him running his hand through his hair and hearing him focus on his breathing to keep from losing his temper.
So she did—two rings and the message.
He changed his number.
The final nail in the coffin. She squeezed her eyes shut, covering the shuddering sigh leaving her mouth with her hand. A few stray tears escaped, rolling down her cheeks.
She heard a noise—a chirping and a rattling of the chain-link fence. Looking over, she saw an owl stuck in a gap in the fence. Jackie didn't hesitate; she slid her shoes back on and hurried to help.
"Relax, little guy," Jackie's voice softened while she knelt. "I'm gonna get you outta there, okay? Just don't peck at me."
The bird kept rolling its wings and chirping. She grabbed the metal links and twisted them away from the bird's wings, giving it space to move freely.
"There you go," she cooed. "All better."
The owl turned its head around, watching her—really looking at her, almost grateful—then flew away.
Jackie stayed there, crouched, watching the owl shrink away in the sky. A small smile reached her lips. It was finally something that felt even briefly like a sense of purpose again.
Shortly after Jackie returned to Parma with her parents, she browsed online and found the job opening at the Havasu National Wildlife Refuge.
Entry-level, but with her prior volunteer and job experience with wildlife, the director felt she was a perfect fit. She'd have to work her way up, but he assured Jackie she'd have help on the road to getting certified.
Through the Rojas family hotline, the news got to Mariana, and her new husband hooked Jackie up with a used car in Tucson. She drove it the three days back to Parma, stuffed her entire life into that car, and headed out for another three-day drive to start over.
The condo was small, empty, but it had a little private backyard. She took the air mattress out of her trunk and set it up in the middle of the floor.
Once all the boxes and bags were inside, she sat cross-legged on her back porch with a cigarette, watching the sun rise, painting her new world in shades of red that matched her tired, sorrowful eyes.
-.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·° 獨 °·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸. -
𝕊𝕠 𝕚𝕥'𝕤 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕒 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕖, 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕀 𝕤𝕒𝕚𝕕, 𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕 😂
ℕ𝕠 𝕛𝕠𝕜𝕖, 𝕀 𝕔𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕕 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕀 𝕨𝕣𝕠𝕥𝕖 𝕁𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕚𝕖'𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕤 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕨𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕦𝕡 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞. 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕚𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕥'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕚𝕥s 𝕨𝕒𝕪 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕪 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕪𝕡𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕦𝕡.
𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕦𝕟𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕪. 𝕀 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟 𝕞𝕖, 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕪'𝕒𝕝𝕝. 😅😅
*Translations*
huǒ yàn = flame
cabrón =asshole
Tía = Aunt
Tío = Uncle
y necio = and stubborn
pa' que pongamos locas = so we can get crazy
esposa = wife
Primita = little cousin
¿Qué dices? = What do you say?
Ándale, pues = Alright, then
mujer = woman
Por qué pues = why then
Porque tienes tu corazoncito roto = because your little heart's broken
ya 'stas borracha = you're already drunk
Me vale madre = I don't give a damn/shit
numero tres = number three
prima = cousin
que 'ta embarazada = that she's pregnant
Su chisme = Her gossip
novela = soap opera
Hong Kong - May 2016
The bedroom was pitch black except for the red numbers on the alarm clock.
2:38 AM.
Feng lay wide awake on top of the covers, staring at the blank ceiling, the burner phone already clutched in his left hand.
Finally, it vibrated. He silenced it in no hurry, reading off the address and vague instructions for what was needed of him. He glanced at Jackie sleeping soundly, then back at the phone before getting up.
He knew the deal for this kind of call—violence and intimidation—the type of thing that was right up his alley.
Dressed in black and inconspicuous, a pair of gloves in his hoodie pocket, driving a dark grey sedan that wouldn't draw attention, with a duffel containing a change of clothes in the trunk.
The neon flashed over his car until he drove closer to the flickering streetlights that needed replacing, to a neighborhood locals knew to avoid after sunset. Police presence was scarce thanks to a select few who had their pockets lined with Triad payoffs.
Feng pulled into the alley behind the rusted, crumbling building and parked where they were already waiting for him.
He stepped out to the sticky night air, and thunder rumbled in the distance. The men merely nodded, and Feng slipped the gloves on as he followed them inside, no questions necessary.
A single bright yellow bulb dangling overhead, and the back of a man tied to a chair. Zhou Shen stood before him, and he gestured for Feng to come over.
It was simple, really—if Zhou Shen didn't like an answer, Feng had to make the target hurt in any way to prolong the pain and consciousness. Flesh wore down, blood splattered to the concrete, the crunch of shattering bone. Then the silence.
A wordless pat on the shoulder for his dismissal, and he exited the building.
Heavy rain and lightning came on suddenly as he returned to his car—no need to change his clothes this time.
He put the key in the ignition and started the engine. His hands trembled as he gripped the steering wheel. He glared at them, furious at their betrayal—he'd always been in control of his body in times like this. How was he losing his composure now?
What the fuck is wrong with me?
It had never happened to him before. Why was this time any different?
Back home, he cleaned up out of his soaked clothes and redressed for sleep, silent enough so Jackie wouldn't suspect anything. He sat on the edge of his bed.
Jackie's face was soft in the faint dawn light sneaking through the curtains. The blanket was pulled all the way up over her shoulder as she curled up. Her hair fell in her face as she shifted, and he reached out with a steady hand, but stopped himself.
Feng lay down on his side with his back to her, forcing his eyes shut only because rest was a necessity.
Days blurred together into weeks for them both—no conversations driving to or from the dojo.
Feng was already gone, or maybe he'd never really come home. Whenever Jackie asked, he never gave a straight answer.
There was always "something to take care of" at any given hour outside of the dojo.
As much as it unsettled her, Jackie didn't push. Her free time was spent wandering the rooms alone, King trailing her, the abandoned study where he'd done calligraphy and taught her some of it.
She'd practiced on her own in the hours he was away, and she'd written something for him, leaving it on the desk, but there never seemed to be a right time to share it. Maybe he'd find it on his own.
Only in sleep did he seem to seek her out, and she'd savor that as long as she could. Silent tears would escape when she woke in the middle of the night to his breath on her shoulder, his arm draped over her waist, holding her close, his hand on her stomach like the only comfort left in his life.
Feng was always out late—it never failed—and Jackie could sense his distance growing. When she found out from Yuz that his birthday had passed without mention, she had an idea.
Make dinner, set the table, and dress up—hoping that maybe, just maybe, she could bridge this widening gap and finally be honest about her feelings for him.
The secrecy that strained their relationship during the Sekai Taikai had made Jackie realize it was a real problem.
That night, her plan was to tell him she wanted to try their relationship for real—even if it meant taking on a different role at the dojo, or none at all, and competing in adult circuits like Feng, under the Iron Dragons.
Once she finished cooking, she led King up to her old room with a treat and his water dish. He hopped up on the bed and curled up.
Jackie waited for hours in the kitchen, finally moving to the couch to settle in. Phone in hand, she sat and finally watched his headlights flicker across the window.
Home late again—the food sitting cold on the stove and the candles burning down to the last bit.
She set her phone down on the end table and got up to meet him at the door, adjusting her dress and brushing loose hairs back from her forehead and cheeks as the latches unlocked.
"Hey," she said, forcing a bright smile for him. "I know it's super late, but—"
Eyes forward, he brushed straight past her, his boots scuffing the floor, not even noticing the outfit she'd put together just for him. She trailed after him into the kitchen.
"Didn't know I missed your birthday. You didn't say anything." Her voice was small. "Made your favorite."
Feng still wouldn't look at her or even acknowledge she was speaking, grabbing a bottle from the liquor cabinet and a glass, and heading to the living room.
Jackie stayed standing in the kitchen for a moment. A shuddering inhale and exhale, then she steeled herself to follow.
"Are you okay?" she asked softly, her fingers brushing his elbow before he turned and glared at her, continuing on his way.
She shrank back just a little, giving him space, but she pursued him.
"Feng, please, can't you just talk to me? It doesn't matter what it is, you know you can trust me."
He stood beside the coffee table, poured a double, tossed it back, and poured more. "You're so naive. It's getting old."
"Well damn, where's that coming from?" Her brows knit together.
"Where should I start? This." He set the bottle down harshly, pointing at her with the hand holding the crystal glass. "Following me around. Begging for scraps like a lost puppy."
"I'm not begging for anything," she scoffed. "You weren't even listening to me. I put time into doing something nice for you, put on this stupid dress, because I care about—"
"A waste of time," he muttered, finishing the glass, snatching up the bottle for another refill.
Jackie's stomach sank. She crossed her arms, bracing herself to ask for the truth.
"Feng, what's going on with you lately? You're not letting me in anymore, and now this?"
"Letting you in," he repeated, scoffing.
"You honestly believe I've let you in at all?" he asked, scowling over the rim of his glass. "Just because you sleep in my bed, walk around my house as if you belong here?"
"I don't understand..." She narrowed her eyes, shaking her head. "You're the one who wanted me to stay here with you."
He set the glass down with a hard clink and looked at her, eyes empty. "My first mistake. The convenience was never worth the trouble."
A sickening chill spread through her chest.
Convenience?
Was that all this was? Was she just a warm body to reach for whenever he felt like it?
For a split second, Jackie pictured his smile, the way he'd cared for her when she was spiraling, and how he'd run his fingers through her hair until she fell asleep.
The memories twisted in her mind, leaving her reeling. But as quickly as the chill came, so did her blood boil.
"Mentiras. I don't believe that. Not after everything we've been through. Don't pretend I don't matter to you."
"So quick to assume your importance to me," he sneered, tilting his head at her condescendingly. "What's so special about you that I can't find anywhere else? For much less effort. And less fucking headache."
Jackie staggered back a step. An actual slap in the face would've hurt less.
"Don't you fucking dare say that! You know it's not true!" She shook, voice breaking, not fighting the tears spilling from her eyes.
"What did you think? I'd give up my life—all I've worked for—for you?" There was no humor in his laugh, only cruelty.
"You were no one before me, Jackie! All you are now is a distraction at best. A leech feeding off my energy."
"That's bullshit," she sniffled, swiping at her tears. "I know who I am."
Feng's voice sharpened, almost feral. "Enlighten me, then! Who would you be without me, huh? An insecure little girl with no direction in life, living on your knees, praying for your fairy tale ending!"
"I don't want a fucking fairy tale!" Jackie threw her hands up, her voice trembling through the flood of emotion. "I want you. Us—the real thing, not a secret."
Feng paced the room, not meeting her eyes. "You have no clue what you want, Jacquelyn—you're delusional. You can't tell the difference between a fantasy and real life."
"How can you say that?! I've given you everything I have, Feng! Why are you shutting me out?! What else do I have to do to prove myself to you?!" Jackie didn't back down; she kept stepping closer.
Feng swiped up the bottle and hurled it across the living room, past her. It connected with the wall, ringing out like a gunshot.
Jackie gasped sharply and flinched before falling silent, her heart hammering as she stared, stunned at the broken glass and dark streaks trailing down the blue-grey paint.
Her throat tightened. She turned back to him, moving closer again.
Desperate, her voice barely above a whisper, she reached out for his arm. "Feng, please—"
Before she could touch him, he caught her wrist—not forcefully, methodically.
Her arm trembled in his grip as he lowered it. His void, emotionless eyes met her shining ones. His voice stayed level, venomous.
"Don't be here when I get back. Not in my home, my dojo, or my life." He released her with a flick of his wrist, as if her skin irritated his fingers. "You are no one to me."
He marched out the front door without so much as a glance back in her direction.
The door slammed shut so hard the windows rattled.
Jackie couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Tears burned down her cheeks as she crumpled to the floor, clutching her abdomen. Outside, the car engine roared to life, tires peeling out, as she suffocated on sobs—her heart and world dissolving.
-.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·° 落 °·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.-
𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕀 𝕨𝕣𝕠𝕥𝕖 𝕒𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕙𝕤, 𝕤𝕠 𝕋ℍ𝕀𝕊 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕪𝕤 😂
Coming home from the Sekai Taikai as World Champions left Jackie dizzy—in the best way. Congratulations, pictures, and sponsors handed her their cards. The doors for her future were flinging wide open.
Sushi with the team and Sensei in Tokyo, then an early flight back to Hong Kong. The drive home was slowed by traffic. Once they made it through the front door, they dropped their bags and left the trophies on the coffee table.
Then, finally, passing out in bed.
Yuz showed up a few hours later with King on his leash, panting excitedly. The doorbell rang, and their phones buzzed.
"Rock, paper, scissors," Jackie groaned, rubbing her face into her pillow.
"What?" Feng lifted his head off his pillow to look at her with half-lidded eyes.
"Who's getting the door?"
"Better idea." His voice was still rough with exhaustion. He snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. "He can wait."
"If you're waking me up, then we both get the door," she giggled sleepily.
For ten days, they had to keep up professional appearances. Now, there was no rush to be apart any longer. Though they had one more event lined up.
The rooftop of the dojo was catered and lit up. Feng and Jackie arrived hours earlier so he could put the newest trophy in the display case and she could get ready in her old apartment, to still avoid suspicion.
For the party, Jackie chose a black sundress patterned with large white lilies all over and gathered her hair back with a clip.
She waited inside for a few minutes after it started, then climbed the stairs.
Zara sauntered up and immediately complimented her outfit.
"So, does this mean your idiot boyfriend is finally showing up to meet us tonight?" She probed, narrowing her eyes.
Jackie just rolled her eyes and waved her off. "He had some work event he couldn't miss."
It's the truth, right?
"It's always something with this guy! I swear," Zara complained as she waved her hands in the air.
"Cálmate, pues." She threw an arm over Zara's shoulder, and they snapped a few selfies.
Laughter and music hung in the air as she joined her teammates, Feng close by for a while—smirking as Jackie recounted highlights from the tournament events and fielded parents' curious questions.
Axel's mom kept fairly quiet, eyes flicking to Jackie before she leaned in to whisper something to Axel. Eventually, she moved off to join Zara's mom.
"My mom's playing matchmaker again," Axel chuckled.
Jackie snorted, peeking over her shoulder to see his mom and Zara's mom in a giggly hush. "No way. Who's she trying to set up?"
Axel kept his voice low, just for Jackie.
"You and Sensei."
Jackie swallowed her drink too fast, coughing before she could cover it with a watery-eyed laugh.
"That's crazy," she wheezed. "She's not gonna say anything to him, is she?"
Axel shook his head, grinning. "No. It's just what she does. She's tried to figure him out for years." He set a hand on Jackie's shoulder before heading off.
She glanced at Feng speaking to a few of the dads.
Guess Axel's mom finally figured him out.
Being discovered used to scare her. Now, it felt different—lighter, almost welcome.
All the parents were scattered in groups, a little tipsy from enjoying the open bar. Axel and the other boys, along with Zara, Mihaela, and their sisters, snapped pictures all over the rooftop.
Jackie slowly wandered off to the corner, her forearms over the barricade, letting the breeze drift over her. The skirt of her dress ruffled over her calves.
Feng appeared shortly after, leaning back on his elbows to keep an eye on the families and festivities. He didn't say anything for a bit.
"Have you shared the news with your parents yet?" he asked, taking a sip from his glass.
"How could you tell?" she scoffed softly.
"Just a guess."
"Still have them blocked. I'm sure they still have their shit going on. But I've thought about it." Jackie swirled the last of the beer in her bottle, looking off into the city lights coming to life with the sunset. "Don't think their opinion's gonna change just 'cause I won something."
"Then that's their loss," he said bluntly. "It always was. And you didn't just win something, you earned your title in front of the world."
She smiled. That sense of pride he had in her made it easy.
Out of curiosity, she asked, "Did your parents ever show up to these things for you?"
"They did, until I was about your age," he nodded.
"That's good, at least. Hope they're doing better than mine."
"They live in the country now. Quieter lives. It suits them."
"Sounds nice..." Jackie caught herself from being too sentimental. "I mean, eventually. Being best in the world kinda makes me want to live loud," she smirked.
"To living loud."
Their glasses clinked. For a second, they weren't focused on hiding their shared smile from the world.
After it ended and the cleanup was over, they headed downstairs for the car, but took a detour to Jackie's old apartment.
Early the next morning, they finally made it out of the building. Jackie snuggled up in the front seat with her sunglasses on while Feng got them coffees and pastries.
He passed them to her with a peck, pulling away with a finger over his lips. Jackie grinned, knowing full well Feng would never be caught dead eating pastries for breakfast—except for her, today, he'd make an exception.
Almost every day since they returned, deliveries from friends and colleagues arrived to congratulate Feng on the win.
The baskets started lining up on the kitchen counter.
Hopping up onto the countertop, Jackie swung her legs and skimmed through the baskets.
"Booze... booze... ooh, a fruit assortment—with more booze," Jackie snorted. "Ijuela, do your friends think all you do in your spare time is drink?"
"Easier than sending baskets full of free weights."
The doorbell rang again, probably another one. Feng left to get it.
She kept browsing and arched an eyebrow when she reached one with a big, glittery silver bow shining with the light from the window. She dragged the basket to her thigh.
"All that's up there is mine, by the way," Feng's voice carried on his way back to the kitchen.
"Mm hm." Jackie slid the bow off, tying it into her ponytail before picking up the champagne bottle.
"Always wanted to do this." The cork popped, and champagne fizzed over the rim.
She took a teasing drink and hiccuped from the carbonation as Feng approached, adding another gift to the collection, then stopped in front of her and gave her the look.
"I got dibs on this one now. Get your own." Jackie shoved Feng's shoulder with one hand and took another drink straight from the bottle with the other.
"Fine." He grinned, then picked her up off the counter.
"Hey!" She squeaked, embarrassed by the noise she'd made, and laughed. "Seriously?"
"I did say everything up there was mine. And you're still complaining," he said, setting her down on her feet, his hands slipping into her back jean pockets, keeping her close.
"Smooth," she snorted, but her cheeks still flushed. It never took much for him to turn her into a puddle.
Jackie couldn't name it, the way he was looking down at her then. She'd thought maybe she'd seen it, only in the quietest, darkest hours of the night—never like this in the daylight.
The thought crossed her mind, maybe she should say something she'd been holding in—but not now. She didn't want to ruin this moment.
Dinner was done, and the kitchen was spotless after the day's mess. Jackie went upstairs to change into something comfortable.
Feng was already outside, waiting in the hammock strung between two trees in the backyard. Jackie opened the back door, King padding close behind.
She climbed in beside Feng, slipping her scrunchie out of her hair and tossing it aside with an exaggerated flick, as if it offended her.
He chuckled at her silliness as she nestled into his side. He ran his fingers through her hair, over her scalp.
"You're gonna put me to sleep if you keep that up," she muttered before her hand lazily raised to cover her yawn.
"Go ahead. I'm not going anywhere."
Jackie hummed contentedly at the invitation, no real words needed.
Finally, she did, cuddled into him, as the hammock swayed gently under the stars. Crickets chirped in the distance, and King snored loudly.
Feng smiled, brushing a few stray strands from her forehead and tracing her cheek with his thumb before settling back.
He wasn't much for the supernatural or superstition, but he couldn't help thinking right now in the night glow, she slept like an angel. He couldn't understand how he got blessed to have her like this.
Tonight, all was right in his world. Safe and at peace.
Inside the house, upstairs, the burner phone locked in his study's desk drawer vibrated furiously.
Day 8
Jackie paced the quiet hotel hall, waiting. She hadn't bothered to go back to her room with Zara after their last spat, instead wandering aimlessly in city blocks in the early hours, hoping to drain the restlessness clawing at her.
That was when her phone chimed with Feng's message to meet by his room.
His door opened silently, and he checked the corridor before letting her in. Jackie slipped past him, hands deep in her hoodie pockets, picking at the loose inner stitching. She bit the inside of her cheek and tapped her foot, unable to settle as Feng quietly closed the door behind them.
He studied her a moment—unreadable, arms crossed, though his eyes seemed to soften when he finished his assessment.
"You got off with a warning for that last strike. Do it again, and it's docked points or a disqualification." He moved to stand in front of her, gaze steady. "You've been slipping. What's going on with you?"
"Everything!" Jackie burst out, her arms flying free as she paced a short line. "I need your help. I need you, and you had that interview and just—cut me out!"
"I know. Alright. Calm down," he said, stepping forward and setting his hands gently on her shoulders, steadying her. Jackie's muscles tensed beneath his fingers, jaw clenching as she dropped her gaze.
Feng lifted his hands to cradle her face, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on her cheeks. Still, her head hung low.
Jackie closed her eyes, breath stuttering out. With everything pent up, finally behind a closed door together, she couldn't even look at him.
"Jackie, over this last year, I've watched you tear your way through a concussion, barbed wire, men twice your size—things that break ordinary people. But you..." His voice softened. "You are anything but ordinary, Hana. That was clear the moment I met you."
She looked up at him then, and his eyes stayed fixed on hers, open and unwavering. His hands settled at her waist.
"You've been through literal fire. Even that didn't stop you." His fingers traced the scar on her hip, then gently took her wrist to slide back her sleeve and reveal the tattoo. "You made it a part of you."
She shook her head. The doubts buried in the back of her mind were still screaming louder than ever. Jackie's voice cracked. "What if you're wrong about me? What if I'm not enough... for any of this? For—" For you?
Feng's lips quirked in a smirk. "I'm never wrong. You're still standing. Still fighting. That's who I'd choose. Every time."
He pressed his lips to hers—achingly sweet, lingering. Jackie sighed, finally feeling like she could breathe again. For the first time in days, the boulder was lifted from her chest. Her nerves were still frayed for the next match, but now she didn't feel alone.
Feng pulled back. "That's all you get until you're handing me a trophy, huǒ yàn," he murmured.
"You're such a jerk," she scoffed, half a laugh, half a sob.
"Try again."
Jackie caught her breath and grinned. "Yes, Sensei."
He stepped all the way into the hall to make sure the coast was clear before waving Jackie out. Jackie lingered outside the elevators after he let her go, replaying his words until they sank in.
The doubts were quieter now, replaced by a straightened posture and squared shoulders, ready to fight for herself—and for the team—with all she had.
She didn't sleep much—just a quick nap before the semifinals—but that never stopped her before. Now, walking beside her Sensei, the air finally clear between them, Jackie held her head high. She felt sharper, lighter.
The second bracket of the day: Iron Dragons versus Beruang Matahari of Malaysia.
Excited murmurs carried around the arena. On opposite sides, each sensei was coaching their captains to the last minute.
Feng stood just over Jackie's shoulder.
"Pay attention when she rushes in. It's quick, but she'll telegraph her direction."
"Yeah, I noticed that," she smirked. "I got her."
"Good." He said with a curt, mentor-like pat to the arm. "Makes my job easier."
He stepped back from the edge of the mat.
The stadium lights were hot, and the floor hummed beneath her feet. Jackie could feel the eyes—crowds, coaches, teammates, rivals—everyone waiting to see if she'd break or burn brighter. She rolled her neck, exhaled slowly, and stepped onto the mat.
Jackie shook out her arms, feeling the familiar itch of nerves. But this time, it was anticipation.
The announcements rang out: Jackie Rojas, female captain of the Iron Dragons, facing Ramla Lau of Beruang Matahari. The referee explained the rules of their semi-final bout, and both girls bowed to each other.
"Good luck," Ramla said as she straightened with a confident smile.
Jackie gave her a nod before settling into her stance. The crowd's noise faded to a distant hum in her ears.
At the referee's signal, they circled each other, biding their time.
Ramla started closing in.
Jackie waited until the last second, then sidestepped. Ramla stumbled, thrown off balance by the lack of contact. Jackie hurried closer, not giving her a moment to recover. Ramla managed three successful blocks, but Jackie's relentless offense broke through and picked apart her defense.
Jackie dropped and swept Ramla's legs, catching her with a firm strike to the sternum. Ramla, already sore and exhausted, stayed down.
"Jackie Fuego Rojas advances to the finals!"
Now it was all up to Axel—and he won, too.
Gianna found Jackie outside the locker room and eyed her with a smirk.
"I was hoping you'd win, Fuego," she scoffed, holding on to her black belt. "Enjoy the name while it lasts. It's the only thing you'll take from this tournament."
Jackie shot her a look, unbothered, leaning her shoulder against the wall. "Bet you rehearsed that one all day, huh?"
Gianna rolled her eyes. "Rest up. I want you to lose at your best." She turned on her heel and left.
Day 9
A rest day before the finals. But not a full day off for the Iron Dragons' captains. Feng had Jackie and Axel practicing first thing in the morning, two-on-one drills until the afternoon, satisfied they were ready.
Everyone cleared out, leaving Jackie and Axel alone.
"How're you feeling, manito?"
"Fine," he shrugged. "It's not the first tournament finals match I've had. Sensei says we're ready."
"Yeah, well, Sensei always figures out how to point me back in the right direction. I'm nervous as hell, but I trust him."
Axel grinned. "You're more like yourself again."
"Z's still givin' me the silent treatment," she admitted.
"She goes on and on about hating your boyfriend," he chuckled.
Jackie laughed, shaking her head. "He gets that a lot."
"I bet he does." Axel just smirked, turning away.
Jackie let it go. There'd be time to fix things later.
Around evening, the team ordered takeout and showed up at Jackie and Zara's door. They sprawled across the beds, watching old tournament clips.
Jackie found herself laughing with Axel, and even Zara eventually joined in. For a little while before they cleared out for the night, the tension faded—just a group of kids on the edge of something huge.
That night, after everyone left and Zara was passed out, Jackie sat on her hotel bed, staring at the city lights. She replayed every fight, every stumble, every time she thought she'd break. Tomorrow she'd find out just how far she'd come.
Day 10
The finals—the reigning champions Leone d'Italia versus the Iron Dragons.
That morning, Jackie woke before dawn, adrenaline already humming. She stared at the ceiling. No matter what happened, she'd made it further than she ever imagined.
Jackie waited along the sidelines with her team as the announcements rang through the air. Feng studied the opposing Sensei, already plotting counter-moves Jackie would never see.
He leaned in close. "This is your time. Trust your instincts. And don't get hit."
"That's a pretty high bar," she murmured.
"I did it. I know you can. Now prove it to the world."
Jackie took a deep breath and gave him one final nod before she was called to the center with Gianna. The lights were all angled toward the center of the mat as the girls stood behind the announcer.
"Ready to be embarrassed?" Gianna asked through a practiced smile, daring a glance at Jackie.
Jackie smirked, keeping her head straight. "Not today, mija."
They were called to the center of the mat. The referee explained the rules, the girls faced each other, and bowed.
Jackie blocked her two high kicks with both forearms, shoving her leg away. Gianna lost her balance for half a second before she scowled hard at Jackie. Gianna moved in fast.
Jackie leaned back just enough for the sleeve of Gianna's gi to brush against her cheek. She retreated a step with a sharp exhale, reassessing Gianna.
Don't think. Instinct.
She let go of the crowd, the pressure, the fear—just her and Gianna, nothing else.
Jackie cartwheeled, faking the Armada kick. She correctly calculated how far Gianna would step back to avoid it. When Jackie landed, she hit her with a double-fisted strike enough to make her hiss and reach for her chest rather than going for a block.
Feng couldn't help putting his hands together with a single clap for that execution. He composed himself, clasping his hands behind his back. He glanced up at the scoreboard. Jackie was now tied with Gianna in overall points.
Each of Gianna's attacks was a test—not just of skill, but of who Jackie had become. Every time she countered, she remembered the times she'd fallen short and the voice in her head that used to say she'd never make it. But not today. Today, she was more than ready.
Jackie didn't give Gianna a second's rest. Gianna met Jackie's hits with blocks. Backing off, she charged Jackie with a snarl and a roundhouse. Jackie spun, ending up across the mat behind Gianna.
"C'mon, amiga," Jackie cracked her knuckles, getting back into her stance. "Gotta lose at your best."
Gianna faced her with a huff before meeting her at the center of the mat for blocked exchanges. Then Gianna moved in closer.
Jackie flipped her over her hip and landed a straight punch to Gianna's sternum. Gianna rolled away and got back up winded. Gianna was half a second off on the follow-through. Jackie caught her with an open-handed strike to the cheek, followed by a jump kick to the jaw.
Gianna's knees buckled, and her eyes rolled as she hit the mat with a thud.
"Winner!" The referee called out, hand raised to Jackie.
Time seemed to slow as the referee called her name. Jackie blinked, bowing like she was supposed to, on autopilot and not quite believing it.
The noise, the lights, the chaos—it all blurred. For a second, she just let herself feel it. She'd won. She'd really, finally won.
The noise rolled back in, whistles, cheers, and 'Fuego!'
Jackie held out her hand to help Gianna up, but Gianna ignored it, holding an arm across her abdomen and bowing before turning away to a disappointed Sensei, who patted her shoulder in consolation.
The announcer's voice echoed over the speakers:
"Fuego Rojas! Your 2016 female champion—Jackie Rojas wins the Iron Dragons' very first world-stage championship!"
Across the mat, Feng met her eyes. He didn't say anything—he didn't need to. In his look was everything: pride, relief, and something deeper. Jackie nodded, understanding. The torch was hers now.
The Iron Dragons waited excitedly for her at the edge of the mat, Axel gathering her up in a bear hug as the team crowded around.
Jackie hugged Feng tight—quick, proper, as a student would hug her mentor. With the energy and emotion running high, no one gave it a second look. For now, that moment was enough until they got home.
She felt as if she were watching Axel's match against Giovanni from a cloud. For a second, she thought about Brazil—the impossibility of being found on another continent by a Sensei accomplished beyond his years, of being given even a hair's-breadth chance at this dream on the world stage. And of uncovering—and learning to love—the complicated young man behind the hard exterior.
Jackie bit her lip at the last thought, no longer denying it, at least to herself. Her veins buzzed with the high she was riding.
With a spinning kick, Axel sent Giovanni down.
Minutes later, the whole team gathered on the mat, lining up with Feng standing in the center between Axel and Jackie.
A hush fell over the arena—just for a moment.
"Jackie Fuego Rojas."
She bowed, a cheek-aching smile on her face, accepted her trophy, and stepped back. Her legs felt shaky, her hands numb around the trophy, but her heart was steady. Then Axel's name was called next.
"Your 2016 Sekai Taikai Grand Champions, Hong Kong's Iron Dragons!"
The arena erupted. They held their trophies high as the crowd roared, and chants of "Fuego!" rang out. Jackie grinned, her chest tight with pride and relief. She'd done it, and no one could take that away from her. The rest of the team rushed in, all hyped energy and tight hugs. She let herself get swept up.
Right now, she was living her dream.
As the arena emptied and the noise faded, Jackie stood with the trophy still in her hands. She looked up at the banners, at her teammates, at Feng. For the first time, she wasn't wondering if she was good enough. She was wondering what came after.
*Translations*
huǒ yàn = flame
Beruang Matahari = Sun Bear
Fuego = fire
manito = little brother
mija = (my daughter, but in this context) sweetie/honey
amiga = friend
mis amores = my loves
amores = loves
