Description: The Illuminati is an international organization able to call on top tier assets with a number of specialties. So, one can only wonder why they sent a chainsaw wielding maniac with a ghost hunting gadget after one of Shao Kahn's top enforcers. Luckily for the maniac his mission takes him into the very heart of Thailand, and there he has Buddha to back him up.
Bangkok, Thailand, 2:31 AM.
The reasons for coming to Bangkok are as varied as its inhabitants. Some people come to see the developing fashions. others are here for work. Still others pass through the city to visit its two most prominent Buddhist temples. But no one, absolutely No One, comes to Bangkok to immerse themselves in its vibrant and extremely successful Red Light districts!
(The current working theory is that the districts thrive on money given to them by voodoo demons.)
Further up the river, past the demon-infested warrens of the Red Light districts, a small cluster of shacks huddle on a muddy stretch of beach. Though twinkling lights surround the shacks on three sides, the squishy swamp land remains undeveloped for hundreds of meters in all directions.
The hot night air is heavy and damp, with a light breeze rolling short waves across the nearby river. Deep bass notes thump their way across the wet expanse of no man's land from some distant club, but aside from that it is still and quiet. Between the city's smog and light pollution, it's impossible to see any stars in the sky. This leaves everything dark, and drab, and muddy.
The shack closest to the river is a nasty, tumble-down affair with no door. The walls are made from rotting wood, while the ceiling is a plastic tarp draped over a cage of sticks and hammered in place with rusting nails. There is no furniture inside, and the floor is mud.
Luckily the figure inside has no need of furnishings.
Ermac floats cross-legged in the exact center of the shack. A cloud of misty lime-green energy swirls around the darkly-clad figure, holding him about three feet off of the ground. Various dangling wrappings from his black costume drift about him as if in an invisible breeze, their gold and carmine somewhat distorted by the green light.
At the moment Ermac's eyes are closed, and the gems studded across his costume pulse with a slow, dim green light.
SSHHHHHHH. He must be sleeping.
'Everythiing's got a heat signature, you know? Think about your Draculas, your Amityvilles, your Frankenstein's Monsters. Dead virgins, EMF readings, and - for Christ's sake, if you can't find a nine-foot tall groaning manchild running roughshod through whatever town he collides with, I don't want you working for me. Anyway, souls are the same way, they've got a 'tell'. Twisted souls are the toughest to find, sure - they're like any other, but that's why we have you expendables on payroll. You've got eyes. Ermac? Ermac's *EASY*. If a soul is a lit candle, look for the bonfire. Then again, from what we hear, Ermac doesn't exactly need to hide - you'll find out when you meet him. Bring help. And pick me up some of that tea on your way back.' - Kirsten Geary, ten minutes ago.
Frederick slogs through the Red Light district, hands in his pockets, a busted-down cigarette on his lips. His expression is murderous - as always - and currently riveted to the cellphone-like device in one hand. He's hardly worried with stealth, despite the nature of his assignment - heavy-booted footsteps ring out on the wet asphalt like gunshots, and it attracts more than a little attention.
"Hey American man! You look for a good ti-" The voice is a concerning compromise between feminine and baritone.
"Fuck off." Frederick's rejection explodes from his lips as a cloud of rancid smoke. His eyes don't leave his monitor - he turns the corner, and makes his way towards the shack by the river. By now, that device is flashing like *mad* - whatever readings it's looking for are going off of the chart.
Frederick's eyes widen - he stands in front of the shack now, and settles the monitor into a coat pocket. He considers for a moment, and reaches back into that pocket to withdraw an ACTUAL cellphone - a quick phone call is made. Occasionally, the man's bloodied green eyes flicker towards the shack doors, as though expecting something to happen. Nothing does.
"Yeah, no. I need backup. Yeah. This is outta my pay grade. Yeah. Thank-"
"Hey, American man! What about TWO of us for one?? Bring your frien-" Frederick is interrupted by another catcall. His eyes cross.
"FOR THE LOVE OF FUCKIN' GOD I AIN'T INTO YOUR TRIPPY CHICK/DICK SITIATION, TAKE YOUR MIXUP AND SELL IT SOMEWHERE EL-" Frederick is *screaming*. A hand settles on his shoulders, and he spins to meet the owner.
"Yo, boss. Stop screamin' if you're callin' for backup." Frederick's new companion comes *out of nowhere*, wearing - a pressed suit with a triangular emblem on its lapel, a gas mask, and a shotgun. Frederick's not worried about this.
SECONDS LATER - the door to Ermac's hut explodes open courtesy of one aggressively accelerated workbook! "HEY! You the souls guy?! Listen, me and my pal here need to talk to you! Business or somethin'." Frederick looks over his shoulder.
"What's your name anyway, guy?"
There is a beat of near silence as the shack groans and shutters in the aftermath of Frederick's...Well, Frederick. Disrespecting doors by applying boots is probably something the man gets up to quite often. It's fortunate that the entire shack didn't come crashing down on top of them.
Floating cross-legged in the center of the room, Ermac slides his blazing green eyes open and fixes them on Fred, staring steadily at the man over the prone corpse of his once proudly erect door. This close to the figure it is easy to feel the bone-vibrating telekinetic force holding him off the ground. Also apparent are the faint impressions of faces that seem to form in his misty green energy cloud, and the faint sounds of far off voices screaming and laughing.
He is probably the 'soul guy'.
"We are Ermac." Responds the figure in a voice like a crowd, all tones and cadences layered one atop the other in a mash of verbal scariness, "You have interrupted our regeneration process." And as he speaks he is uncurling himself from his seated position and dropping lightly to the floor of the shack. The pulsing light of his gems starts to increase in intensity, and his black-gloved hands are suddenly sheathed in lime green light.
The bone-deep humming in the air is getting more intense by the moment. if Frederick and Guy have something to say, they better say it. Apparently interrupting a regeneration process is a very impolite thing to do.
"-uh, Buddha." The man in the gas mask is really noteworthy, at this point, for the way his eyes have widened like dinner saucers. Frederick frowns at the name - but reconciles his expression when Ermac speaks up. The man walks past the remains of the doorway, coat dripping a Thai storm onto the shack's floorboards. He regards the soulfire (or whatever) with a healthy respect, and settles a hand onto the hammer over his shoulder. The cigarette is spat onto the floor, where it fizzles within a puddle.
"Buddha, take notes while I talk to this guy." Frederick looks from his assistant to Ermac. "Alright, so. You speak English, that's good. Last guy I saw was this weirdass four-armed dude with a ponytail and *he* sounded like a pile of rocks falling over itself. Impossible." Frederick hasn't met Goro, but tossing out references is a *real* good way to get a foot in the door, and all the intel points at some kind of bleed through.
Frederick gestures at Ermac with his free hand - the other remains on that hammer, white-knuckled. Maybe he's a little nervous.
"Look. I'm not here to fuck with you, or bother you, or whatever. Sorry I messed with your regeneration thing. I just? look. I gotta know." He gestures to the door, to Buddha, who has finished tapping away at a notepad and reached for a shotgun at his side.
"Where's this "Outworld" place, and what're you doin' here?"%
Again there is a beat of silence. perhaps Ermac is translating languages in his head, dealing with some sort of soul riot, or is just one of those types who likes to take his moment before speaking. Whatever the reason, the Outworld enforcer stares through Frederick with those inhuman eyes of his and puts off enough soul power to light a soul city.
"It would be unwise to say such things to prince Goro. It is likely he would remove your limbs from your body." Is Ermac's eventual reply. His chorus of overlapping voices make it impossible to gage expression, and his posture is erect and mechanical with his glowing hands held at his sides.
"Outworld," The enforcer continues patiently, "is another plain of existence. Earthrealm and Outworld do not physically touch. We could not give you directions, nor do we have the power to travel between realms unaided. We are here in your realm with orders from Emperor Shao Kahn. He has instructed us to find the sorcerer Shang Tsung." The multi-voiced words trail to a halt as Ermac shifts his gaze off of Frederick and onto Buddha. He doesn't seem overly concerned about both men being armed, but, he is the glowing one out of the three of them. Being the glowy one does tend to imbue one with a large amount of confidence in such matters as Kombat and illumination.
The gold and carmine trimmed bits of cloth trailing from Ermac's costume twist lazily in the energy cloud he continues to generate; his soul gems pulsing like emergency lights on some sort of ghostly patrol car.
Frederick glances sidelong at Buddha, who has foregone the shotgun in favor of typing more. This is basically a gold mine for the completely unilluminated Illuminati - it's important to know who you're dealing with. Frederick looks back to Ermac, and takes another step towards the otherworldly dude's flank. His manner is wholly cautious, from the way his hand hasn't left that hammer, and the way he's actually utilizing finesse in placing his feet on the ground - he's scared. Maybe. Shit like this wasn't exactly in the dossier.
"Show Can." He mispronounces the name. "Shang Sung." He runs his hand beneath his nose to clear it, agitated. "You're lookin' for a guy? Look, whole reason I'm here is 'cuz you're like nothin' we've ever seen before. I ain't necessarily here to try to rip your head off, or make this "Goro" guy angry or whatever. We just wanna figure out if you're gonna be a problem for us. Or if we can't come to some kinda? I dunno. Understanding." Frederick eventually makes his way to the other side of Ermac - the soul amalgamation is between himself and Buddha.
"So what's this Shangtsi guy got to do with your Outworld? Why's he here? What's his deal? Is he a problem for us, too? Keep talkin' - I'm listening."
Ermac is a good guy as enforcers go. Really he is. If Frederick had busted in on Baraka there would have been a lot more chopping and a lot less talking up to this point. However, he is still an enforcer. And he is not an idiot.
The conglomeration of souls takes a single step back and to his left, falling smoothly into his preferred stance of Choy Lay Fut. This puts his leading right foot forward and between the two men, knee angled inward to protect his groin. Both glowing hands drift up, right forward in a soft block while his left chambers a fist low at his side, torso twisting away at an angle from the men.
Grand master glowy knows kung fu.
"We are an enforcer of Emperor Shao Kahn's will." Ermac responds in his expressionless chant, "We have told you enough. You will leave us in peace, or we will break you." And with those words, the glowing green mist around Ermac thickens; the bone-deep thrum intensifying until all the puddles in the shack are hopping and jittering.
Frederick's discarded cigarette bobs about in the waves of one puddle like a tiny abandoned submarine. After a valiant struggle, it sinks into the dirty muck. Already Ermac has claimed one victim tonight. Will Fred and Buddha join the cigarette butt in defeat?
COMBATSYS: Frederick has started a fight here on the left meter side.
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Frederick 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Buddha has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
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Frederick 0/-------/-------|
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Buddha 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Ermac has joined the fight here.
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Frederick 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Ermac
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Buddha 0/-------/-------|
It's not the first time Frederick's been in a room about to unravel, but it *IS* his first time dealing with the sort of mental pressure Ermac's capable of putting out. The man coughs, violently, before swinging one leg out into a shoulder-width stance - he hunches, to maintain his balance, and is about to open his mouth -
Buddha speaks up - his tablet glows green. "Boss, KG says she wants to see how Outworld weaves souls into a person. Says the lab's gonna go nuts." He sets the tablet aside - the information's been sent, he's unconcerned about the thing being broken or lost - and removes his weapon once again. "So, uh." Within the gas mask, Buddha's eerily expressive eyes offer Frederick a sort of apology. Buddha hates to be the bearer of bad news.
"Mother fuck," curses Frederick, eyes flashing towards the sinking cigarette. He withdraws the hammer from its spot on his back, allows the weapon to fall easily into his hands, and tightens his grip on its shaft. "SHE GIVE ANY TIPS ON HOW YOU TAKE DOWN A GODDAMN EXTRAPLANAR SOUL CLUSTERFUCK, BUDDHA?!" Frederick looks back to Ermac, and frowns. Somewhere deep in the man's strung-out expression is a desire to drag the conversation out, if only to keep from discovering what kind of bullshit Ermac is capable of.
Oh well.
"GraaaaAAAAAH!" Frederick doesn't help with the shack's tremulous state of being - he glows a brilliant yellow, and *SLAMS* that hammer down onto the ground at his feet! A groundspark courses along the wooden floor, turning puddles to steam as it passes them, and heads right for Ermac! Behind the ninja, Buddha, being an idiot, tries to slam the butt of his shotgun into Ermac's head and knock the guy TOWARDS Fred's attack.
COMBATSYS: Ermac blocks Buddha's Face First.
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Frederick 0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0 Ermac
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Buddha 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Ermac dodges Frederick's Thrown Object.
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Frederick 0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0 Ermac
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Buddha 0/-------/-------|
Though Frederick likely doesn't know it, he has just voiced one of Outworld's most pressing questions. How, in fact, do you take down a god-damned extra plainer clusterfuck? If only the denizens of Outworld had an answer. Ermac would be less of a problem.
Speaking of problems.
The simultaneous attacks from both men doesn't seem to catch Ermac off guard in the slightest. Being an Enforcer tends to lead to these sorts of situations on a fairly regular bases. So, as both attackers launch their attacks from opposite directions, the glowing green warrior does a little threat assessment.
Guy with hammer is glowing.
Guy with shotgun is not glowing.
Ding.
Target acquired.
With both cloth-wrapped feet planted firmly in the mud, Ermac twists his torso hard to the left and swings his elbow up and back. The strike catches the shotgun in mid-descent and knocks it off to the side, effectively dealing with the lesser of the two threats.
Then, in a swirl of misty green souls, the enforcer ports himself across the room into Frederick's personal space, completely ignoring the laws of space time and the yellow ground spark that had been steaming its way toward him. This also has the added benefit of letting Ermac hold his wound up stance, both feet still firmly planted and left arm cocked back from his elbow strike.
Ermac's body uncoils, torso jerking around to the right and glowing left hand being brought around and down in a hard punch aimed at Fred's upper abdomen. He follows the opening strike with a rising right uppercut aimed for the hammer wielder's chin, then 3 quick 'LeftRightLeft' jabs aimed for his mouth. Ermac's scarves whip out behind him with each strike as he attempts to force the larger man back and step after him, driving him back toward the far wall with his jabs before pivoting on his right foot and bringing the left up and forward in a thrusting side kick meant to drive the unfortunate man out through the flimsy wall of the rickety shack.
COMBATSYS: Ermac successfully hits Frederick with Kombo.
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Frederick 0/-------/--=====|=------\-------\0 Ermac
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Buddha 0/-------/-------|
"Huh-" Buddha isn't prepared for this. He isn't even past the stage of Illuminati training where he gets to go without the gas mask. His shotgun's knocked away like a toy, which prompts Frederick to look up from his groundspark, face a mask of barely-restrained rage. Who the hell is this low-grade schmuck and why did headquarters send him out?
"Pay some goddamn attenti-" Ermac vanishes, only to reappear much closer to Frederick. It doesn't matter, nothing does, because the way Ermac's fist collides with Frederick's midsection is enough of a day-ruiner to make the next three punches seem like a pleasant afternoon in the aftermath. Frederick's only *dimly* aware of his face being the scene of a hate crime, and it's one hundred percent thanks to the training he's received that the man manages to plant the head of his hammer onto the mud beneath him before Ermac's foot collides with the shaft.
Which saves him some modesty, really? he doesn't go careening out of the building! On the other hand, the cost is substantial. Frederick slides back in a cloud of upflung mud and dirt, holding the lower half of what used to be a four-foot sledgehammer's handle - it's a stick, now, and there's not much more to it than that. Weapon broken for well and all, Frederick's expression is?
Eerily calm. Chapped lips are drawn into a thin line, his raw nose quivers not even once, and above *that*, those green eyes have gone from angry to downright murderous. Frederick stamps forward, using the broken end of his weapon like some sort of prison shank in an attempt to simply beat Ermac down! It's unrefined to the extreme, but anger and methamphetamines are a pretty powerful combination - can Ermac deal with the multitude of overhand stabbing attacks Frederick brings his way?
Can he deal with Buddha punching him in the ass from behind? Buddha is definitely trying to contribute to this fight.
COMBATSYS: Frederick successfully hits Ermac with No Mercy.
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Frederick 0/-------/-======|===----\-------\0 Ermac
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Buddha 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Ermac blocks Buddha's Hamstring.
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Frederick 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Ermac
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Buddha 0/-------/-------|
Ermac's feet have shattered rib cages, spines, hopes and dreams. Even the odd hammer shaft now and again. So it isn't much of a surprise to the glowing warrior when his cloth-wrapped foot snaps this particular hammer's handle and sends Fred skidding backward through the mud.
Good thing he isn't much of a gloater. That would really be a 'BOOYA!' moment.
But, even as Frederick is skidding backward, Ermac is twisting away on one foot in a swirl of loose cloth. His spin brings him face to face with the onrushing Buddha, and he stomps his left foot down into the mud, braces himself, and whips his left hand down and around in a quick backhanded blow that once again sends the unfortunate Recruit's strike drifting harmlessly off target. Simultaneously his right hand flashes forward in a single spear thrust aimed for the inexperienced man's throat. Maybe the gas mask will save his wind pipe being crushed. or maybe he can defend himself in time.
Maybe Ermac should have been more worried about Frederick, though.
Buddha having been dealt with, the enforcer is just starting to twist into another spin when Fred hits him with an enraged prison rush. The first downward stab of the handle catches him high on the right shoulder, the impact jarring the enforcer's smaller form. The second cracks him across the forehead as he continues his spin, and a third scrapes across his chest as he starts to step backward. Then his forearms are up and he is batting away the oncoming strikes, giving ground steadily and side-stepping until he is facing both Fred and Buddha with the shack's door at his back.
He isn't trapped in here with them. They're trapped in here with him! Well, except for the fact that the walls aren't really up to keeping anyone trapped in with anyone. AT all.
COMBATSYS: Buddha blocks Ermac's Front Punch.
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Frederick 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Ermac
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Buddha 0/-------/-----==|
Buddha, in a move that's sure to get him a good review if he lives through this encounter, manages to reverse his momentum and turn what was going to be a one-two asspunch combo into a one-ohshit-block asspunch combo, wherein he sort of STOPS after impacting Ermac, falls backwards, and manages to toss his hands upwards in barely enough time to keep the soul abomination from killing him. Still, it's enough force to shatter the lenses of Buddha's gas mask.
"Just- uh, how are we supposed to bring this guy in??" Frederick pointedly ignores what Buddha is attempting to say through a mouthful of blood - he focuses on Ermac instead. "Dunno what to make of you." He places the hammer's handle in his pocket, and reaches behind his back, beneath the drape of his overcoat. "You and the rest of these idiots comin' over here to do whatever, too fuckin' prideful to take any sorta help, too fuckin' strong to collar? you know you're like?" Frederick grabs at straws again. "The fourth Shaka Khan soldier we've seen?? Talkin' the least outta them, too." He withdraws his hand from his jacket - he's carrying the orange and black of a familiar industrial tree-feller.
In a smooth movement, Fred uses his other hand to pull the thing's ripcord - with a bone-chilling growl, the engine rumbles to life! "You wanna turn this into a fuckin' war?! Or do you wanna help us-" Frederick starts dashing towards Ermac, despite the very serious threat of looking like a dumbass by slipping in the mud! And the ALSO real threat of being actually exploded by a soulball. With a *ROAR*, Frederick brings his chainsaw upwards in a violent, full-force arc across Ermac's chest!
MEANWHILE: Buddha has finally stood up, and is sort of collecting himself. Blood is pouring out of his mask. "Uh, boss?" He tries to tighten his mask to keep the blood from falling out, but this is a bad idea since now it's just going into his mouth and nose. He loosens it again, prompting a whole bunch to spatter onto the previously clean dress shirt and blazer of his uniform. Gross.
COMBATSYS: Buddha gains composure.
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Frederick 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Ermac
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Buddha 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Ermac interrupts Revved Up from Frederick with Surrender.
*KNOCKED AWAY*
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Frederick 1/---====/=======|======-\-------\0 Ermac
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Buddha 0/-------/------=|
What sort of ass hole brings a chainsaw to a psychic fight?
Having fallen back into his ready stance before the door, Ermac focuses his glowing green gaze on the yellow and black weapon Frederick pulls from beneath his overcoat. Perhaps the enforcer doesn't know what it is, because when the engine roars to life, there is a distinct lack of flinching or 'OhShitThatIsAChainsaw'ing. The glowing warrior is surprisingly chill about the whole thing, his carmine and gold trimmed scarves slowly drifting about behind him.
Ermac remains patient throughout the rant and the charge. it is only when the roaring saw is swept up at his chest that the enforcer really seems to get into the mood. His right hand, already lifted in a soft block and glowing, suddenly flares even brighter. The lime-green glow blazes up like a torch as he flattens out his hand and spreads out his fingers in a very definite 'stop' gesture.
And Frederick is stopped.
Glowing green energy suddenly forms around the Illuminati's entire body, freezing him mid slash just as the whirling chain on his saw touches Ermac's right pectoral. The cloth there is drug into the teeth and torn, the skin beneath being ripped open with a small splatter of blood, but no further movement forward is possible.
"Emperor Shao Kahn wishes to have a war." responds the warrior, voices chanting the words with utter indifference. The bone-deep hum of his telekinetic powers has reached new depths, shaking the walls of the shack itself.
Then, the enforcer thrusts his right hand out in full extension. The psychic force holding Frederick hurls him backward like the hand of a giant, sending him rocketing head-first toward the far wall of the shack, and maybe the shack after that, and the shack after that. He'll hit the ground eventually, but the experience isn't unlike being catapulted through the windshield of a crashing car. Just, worse.
And then there were two.
The glow around Ermac's hand dies back down as he turns his inhuman attention on Buddha. Idly the enforcer considers the junior Illuminati, blood still trickling out of the wound in his chest to soak into his black tunic. Then, he takes his first step forward.
COMBATSYS: Frederick has left the fight here.
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Buddha 0/-------/------=|======-\-------\0 Ermac
COMBATSYS: Buddha has left the fight here.
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Ermac 0/-------/-======|
Frederick's reaction is everything it should be - there is none. He freezes, expression contorted into absolutely undying rage, and Ermac speaks. Then Ermac *moves*, and Frederick is gone, thrown like so much garbage through countless shanties. The sound of thin wood exploding inwards is initially rapid and close, like the sound of rapidly flipped pages, but then distant - eventually, true to narrative prediction, there is a shatter of glass and the sound of a car alarm going off some two city blocks away.
Buddha is on the other side of the shack, and frankly there's not much the guy can do other than gibber. Inside of that cracked gas-mask, the recruit's eyes are wide and unblinking, pupils shivering wetly beneath a newly-arrived veneer of tears. He reaches weakly for the shotgun next to him - his chosen weapon - and manages to grab the weapon, to hold it in the pit of his arm, as he'd been taught in training. He cocks the shotgun with a less-than-confident pump of the arm, and levels it at the approaching Outworld enforcer.
-
The Illuminati seek out those who aren't easily swayed, but it's impossible to test this attribute outside of actual fieldwork. Cthulhu and extraplanar terrors are the basis of the work, and if a little green fire and crushing mental weight are enough to soil your pants and blur your vision, you're gonna go nowhere fast, excellent reflexes aside.
It's expected losses, really. Exhaustive training can only take you so far, and maybe one in ten recruits make it past those first three field assignments.
-
Two blocks away, Frederick is an absolute disaster. His body is broken, his eyes are rolled back in his head, and the car he's landed on is sheared in half - he's halfway through the back seat, sort of lounging, if you can call being 'inside of the seat' lounging. Amazingly, he moves - weak, spastic movements bring his hand to his pocket, and from there, he's removing his phone. It's heavier-duty than it looks.
'ermac is tough. outclassed. chaka khan wants a war. my hammer broke. got blood and clothes off off him. newbie did okay-'
Distantly, there is a shotgun blast, a muffled scream, and a wet thud.
'newbie didn't make it. send collection, i can't move. cops on the way probably.'
"Heyyy~~ American man! You want some help??" Frederick narrows his eyes, and looks up through a bloodied haze to see some beautiful Thai women approaching him. He smiles to them, and manages, before he loses unconsciousness, to nod his head *yes* and hit the "send" button on his phone.
Log created on 11:29:59 11/19/2014 by Ermac, and last modified on 17:02:52 11/19/2014.