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reds-skull · 4 months ago

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Bringer of Demise - Chapter 5

[PREV PART] [AO3]

This chapter ended up a little short, but I wanted the cliffhanger to be as horrible as I used to make them in part 1 haha. I like how this one turned out, had to rewrite a large chunk of it, but it was the right decision I think

It's called "Walking Corpse"

Soap runs through the tunnels, sliding around a corner he almost misses. A few soldiers have to jump to the side to avoid collision with him, and he shouts an apology behind him.

He rounds another turn when he slams into a large body. Luckily for the both of them, the man is strong enough to keep them on their feet, only letting out a huff as he holds Soap’s biceps.

“Please tell me you’re not running away because you got into trouble, Johnny. Wouldn’t look good in front of our hosts.”

“Ghost!” Soap smiles up at the masked man, “Price told me to get teh the meeting room.”

Ghost lets him go, nodding towards the hallway, “I know, told me to get you, make sure you ‘don’t get lost’.” he keeps a hand on Soap’s back, thumb caressing him.

Soap picks up on his silent question, “Ah’m fine, LT. Got cleared for the field.”

“Hm.” Ghost drops his hand, his eyes crescent-like, “let’s get to debrief before Price has our heads.”

Soap laughs, “aye.”

Their team was dropped off several hundred feet away from their target, which was the building that was observed to house the high ranking fighters of Al-Mudahiyn on the recon mission. Soap lays under a cluster of bushes, wiping his forehead as sweat already drips down it.

It turns out, the militia is on high alert, expecting an attack - but not by the ULF. The Russians also have their eyes on this facility, and they hope it means the revenants Graves kidnapped are still there.

As they wait for their signal, Soap runs the memory of the briefing through his head again.

Farah leans over to drag the blueprints to the center of the table. “Al-Mudahiyn have a few disadvantages, mainly their lack of manpower in this area. Their focus has shifted further north in the last few months, in an attempt to keep their territories.”

“So we just overwhelm them? We got enough revenants for it.” Gaz muses out loud.

Farah hums, “that’s one possible plan of attack. But that is not the optimal one.”

The Commander did say the ULF doesn’t make a habit of attacking Al-Mudahiyn…

“Diversion.” Price says, cutting off Soap’s thoughts. “The facility spreads over a large area. By the time most fighters will get to one side…”

“The other will be completely exposed.”

The air besides him shifts, and he hears the branches around him crunch. Alex’s voice whispers from his left, “think I’m set to infiltrate.”

Commander Karim takes her eyes away from her scope, “don’t let them see you, Keller.” she looks at Alex’s general direction with a smile.

“Yes, ma’am.” The dirt beneath Alex’s boots shifts, and it’s the only way Soap can tell when he walks away, towards the building they suspect has the CCTV control room. Keller’s role is two-fold; he will keep track of the hostiles’ location once the diversion begins, and signal Soap and Farah when their way in is clear, as well as scour the cameras for possible imprisoned revenants.

He temps down the frustration he felt since the debrief. You’d think he’d be the best candidate for a distraction, along with Ghost, but they have to keep following Novikov’s bleedin’ instructions, because “the higher-ups said so”.

Not for the first time, Soap wonders if the brass are really the ones that should be in charge of decisions like these. He didn’t care much in the past, as it only affected him, but now…

Price said he informed Laswell of their suspicions, and she’s working on investigating potential connections between Novikov and Makarov, but the Captain himself doesn’t think the Doctor is the traitor yet.

Soap may have used some… less than tasteful words to curse him out in his mind. Price explained that he knew Novikov for a while, and the man never showed signs of betrayal.

What he managed to gather from his Captain is that because of Shepherd’s disappearance, a few people moved up the ladder, and in his eyes it’s possible one of them could have switched sides. Didn’t do much to convince Soap, but he supposes he understands Price’s point of view.

Either way, that left Soap here, on the infil team with Commander Karim. Her reasoning to choose him out of all the revenants is his ability to heal from gunshots, which compliments her immunity to bullets nicely.

Ghost absolutely hated the idea, he could tell from his stiff, drawn-back shoulders and clenched jaw, but he said nothing, beside offering himself as the distraction.

While Limbo isn’t quite as loud as explosions, seeing what looks like a black hole approach your base rapidly, garnished with the screams of the damned, would be a cause to raise an alarm. Not to mention Price’s powers, which would probably make it feel even more disturbing.

Watching Limbo open now, the void tearing through the night’s sky like a knife, Soap is reminded that Ghost’s powers are fucking terrifying to most. Especially when it’s likely Al-Mudahiyn’s fighters have never seen anything like this.

The floodlights turn on, the facility waking up, fighters running towards the front gates. Soap’s radio crackles, Alex’s voice coming through.

“Kilo Actual, Bravo 7-1, you’re clear for infil.”

Commander Karim rises to her feet, face set with determination, “copy. On the move.”

This place gives him the creeps. Old, crumbling walls, the rebar foundation exposed every few steps, windowless corridors lined with cells, tiled floor covered in stains Soap is hoping are not dried blood.

He follows Commander Karim, the building desolate. She takes a turn unexpectedly, to a room that wasn’t marked as a point of interest.

Farah stops in the entrance, staring at the single chair, a table with various gruesome tools standing beside it. Everything is covered in dark, brown-red blood.

“Commander?” Soap asks, Farah’s expression conflicted. She takes a sharp breath and walks out.

“There were prisoners here recently.” she says, “they must’ve been moved before we arrived.”

“You think they were torturing the revenants?”

They step out into a courtyard of sorts, surrounded by bleak concrete blocks, “our revenants, Russian soldiers…” Karim trails off.

“Kilo.” Alex calls through comms, “found something.”

Farah stops in her tracks, “talk to me, Alex.”

“Rest of the facility has been cleared out from what I can tell, they’re all freaking out about Limbo, but there’s one place the guards have stayed put in.” he types something on a keyboard, “it was marked as warehouse B on the blueprints, take a left in-”

“I know where it is.” Farah stops him, “we’ll check it, keep looking, Echo.”

“Copy that.”

Soap rushes to follow Karim when she starts walking to the warehouse, Her rifle at the ready, “ye’ve been here before, haven’t you?” he asks.

“I have.” Soap doesn’t think she means she’s been here on a mission, with the way her mouth twists into a snarl.

As soon as they enter the warehouse, they hear voices and drop to a crouch. The Commander signs for Soap to keep quiet, and they slowly creep closer towards a large door. From this close, he can gather whoever’s on the other side is speaking Arabic.

“I know that voice…” Farah mutters. She waits another moment to verify that there are no other people talking, and with a careful push, opens the door enough for them to peek through.

What lies on the other side is sickening. In a large room, surrounded by unmoving bodies and chained to a wall, is a woman. Around her are scorch-marks, the moaning and grunting confirming that some of the burnt people are still alive to feel the pain.

The woman is the only one uninjured, and Soap grits his teeth. She must be the revenant, that Shepherd and Graves tried to make revenant-killers of. Al-Mudahiyn have taken the mantle on that project, after Graves’ death.

“Sergeant. Calm yourself.” Karim says, pointedly looking at his growing flames. Soap grimaces and forces them down. He wasn’t made for covert operations. “Alex, we got eyes on captives, only one uninjured, possibly revenant. Call for med evac.”

“Copy. Gonna be rough getting them outta there without alerting Al-Mudahiyn-”

“The risk is worth it.” Farah answers tersely.

Alex takes it in stride, “of course, Commander. Wouldn’t think otherwise. Out here.”

Farah gives him a questioning look, her hand pressing on the handle, and Soap nods.

They enter the room, the woman jumping and shuffling back, before she recognizes Karim. “Commander?” she asks, before her eyes turn to stare at Soap, “you…”

“Samara.” Farah leans in to inspect the chains, “we’re going to get you out of here. You’re safe.”

Samara looks away from him, “have you seen Khalid? He escaped with Tariq and Rabia before I-”

Farah sighs, dropping the chains. They’re too strong for her to unlock by force, “they’re safe. I got them staying with us.” she addresses Soap next, “think you can burn through these chains, Sergeant?”

Soap frowns. The chains in question are short, wrapping around Samara’s arms tightly. “I can, but it would hurt her.”

Samara shakes her head, “it won’t.”

Soap opens his mouth to object, but she continues, “you are John MacTavish, aren’t you?”

What? “How do ye-”

“My Reaper was Destruction.”

… No. She can’t be. Soap eyes trail down, at the scorch marks.

They were trying to make more revenants of… Destruction?

A numbness spreads up his arms. Shepherd knew what he was. Would’ve taken his powers for himself, if Ghost wasn’t there to save him.

Graves knew these people, from what Farah and Alex have told them. Fought alongside them. He knew Samara was like him.

Soap could have lived his whole life not meeting another one of his kind, a revenant born only from the worst of the worst, crawling out of what reduces others to dust. Would have preferred it, really. How could he look them in the eye, knowing he was the worst of them?

And yet… He and Samara are not the same anymore, are they?

“Soap.” Farah calls him, “the chains.”

“On it.” He moves, stiff joints forced into motion, and takes hold of the metal links. He doesn’t hesitate to explode them, and after a flash and a loud noise, Samara slumps forward, Farah catching her before she can fall.

All Soap can do is stare at her arms. Uninjured. Immunity to explosions, complete immunity, unlike his.

Soap didn’t know his Reaper could do that. Has it chosen to leave him able to feel pain on purpose?

He can’t feel his arms. He averts his eyes, only for them to land on the rest of the bodies in the room.

Some of them are clearly Russian soldiers, their uniforms different from those of the ULF. Their flesh caved in, burns searing far into their muscles. Some are barely recognizable as human anymore.

This is what attempting to bring someone like him into the world looks like.

“John.” a voice startles him. Farah taps his shoulder, turning him away from the bodies, “Alex is on his way here, he’ll take care of Samara and the rest. We need to move, the guards noticed something’s off.”

Soap gives Samara one last look. She doesn’t look afraid of him. He wishes he could say the same.

“Aye, Commander. Lead the way.”

Soap wonders what it says about him that the prospects of a fight is what helped him snap back to the present. Nothing good, if his short meetings with shrinks over the years have anything to say about it.

His hands are steady on his rifle, flames small and controlled. Even when he and Farah hear the heavy footsteps of incoming hostiles. Even as they begin to shoot.

They only need to hold on until the medic team manages to clear the warehouse. They’re lucky Ghost, Price and Gaz are still working on diversion, as it seems Al-Mudahiyn isn’t lacking in fighters.

“Take the left side, Sergeant. Don’t let them through.” Farah trains her sights on the right hallway.

Soap copies her, “aye.”

The first fighters come into view, downed before they could process what happened. Soap dares to take another step forward.

He hears Karim’s rifle go off behind him, and opens fire again as another group of hostiles enters the corridor. This one was ready for them, and a few bullets hit his plate and graze his arm. Soap snarls, the pain flashing bright before the wounds begin to heal.

Now this feels right at home. The adrenaline pumping in his veins, lava-hot blood dripping down his arms, hands automatically reloading the rifle in his hands.

Al-Mudahiyn’s fighters have begun to circle them, using the small windows to attempt to break through their defence. Farah jumps in front of him when one almost hits him in the head with the butt of his gun, throwing a knife between his eyes as bullets tear through her shirt.

The hostiles are pushing them back now, Farah and Soap standing practically back-to-back.

Soap has been counting his shots, and in about 30 seconds he will be out of ammo. He grits his teeth and shouts, “got any extra mags, Commander?!”

“Negative! I’m on my last one!”

“Fuck-” his rifle clicks on the next shot, the chamber empty. He heaves a breath, another bullet slicing through his ear, his thigh, burning-

He throws his gun to the side, “yer immune teh explosions too?”

Farah spares a glance at him, “only to the aftermath. As long as you’re staying far, I’ll be fine.”

Soap flexes his hands, “copy.”

The next hostile that has the misfortune to step in front of him gets his head caved in. It sends a sickening feeling to his gut, a distant part of Soap screaming at the sight of a headless body.

That part of him gets farther away as he plows through enemies, his world narrowing to bright flashes and loud sounds, ears ringing, unable to heal fast enough. Nothing else matters, only the next target and the way it drops dead at his feet.

There’s a sick satisfaction in using his powers. Satisfaction in the knowledge there is nothing strong enough to withstand his explosions. Usually, that fact makes him scared. Right now, the part of him that fears isn’t allowed to control him.

Soap takes far too long to notice the smoke filtering through the door at the end of the hallway. In the forefront of his mind is a monster, snarling and wild, uncaring of such details. But the smoke thickens, a stench burning his lungs, and Soap can’t ignore it anymore.

“Commander! Something’s on the other side of the door!” he yells to Farah. When he doesn’t get a response, he looks back.

The Commander is staring at the smoke with horror, bullets dinging off her skin. She jerks into action, covering her mouth and backing away.

“Cover your mouth, Sergeant! It’s toxic!”

Soap steps back as well, burning hands coming up to his mouth and nose.

It does nothing to stop the wave of gas from filtering through, when the door slams open.

His knees collapse under him, lungs spasming with body-shuddering coughs, eyes tearing up. Soap barely stays upright, his arms shaking, as gas-masked hostiles surround them. They part for a single man to walk through.

Behind him, Farah growls, “you…”

He blinks away tears, and realizes the gas is coming from the man. Noxious, it streams from his mouth, his nose, his bright green eyes.

The man steps around him, a surge of gas almost knocking him out. Soap hears him approach Farah, and he manages to turn enough to watch her reaction as he speaks.

“You shouldn’t have come here, sister.”

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spicybeefnoodles · 1 year ago

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in a twist of fate

summary: liu kang loses kung lao anyway

warnings: canon typical violence, hurt/no comfort :)

Kung Lao was always fated to die. No matter what Liu Kang tried to do, his best friend’s life always ended in a premature death and changing his destiny would require a large sacrifice that Liu Kang was not willing to make. Of course, Liu Kang tried to mitigate the ways that Kung Lao could die: he made the tournament non-lethal, made Shao Kahn work for a good Sindel, and everything he could possibly think of to make Earthrealm as safe as possible. And over time, Liu Kang thought his plan had worked: that Kung Lao would die from old age, maybe from his poor eating habits but never violently. The Fire God eventually forgot about Kung Lao’s fated destiny.

Until Shujinko went rogue. The student had gotten too arrogant, too cocky, and when Kung Lao went to talk his student out of it, Shujinko had grabbed Kung Lao by his neck and sent lightning through the monk’s neck, smiling wickedly and dropping his unconscious mentor to the floor. When Raiden had informed him of the situation, Liu Kang had paled and rushed there as soon as possible to track down the wild student and erase his memories. Later, Liu Kang had visited Kung Lao in the hospital, and memories of his own Kung Lao flashed through his mind, the snapped neck and dead look in the monk’s eyes that usually held such mirth.

But, this Kung Lao had opened his eyes, a bit tired and murky looking, but he had let out a smug laugh and said he was honored to have the Fire God worry about him. Liu Kang breathed a sigh of amusement and relief, thankful that Kung Lao had lived. He would have to go through physical therapy, regain his sense of fighting, but he would live and that was enough.

After that, Liu Kang kept a close eye on the hat wielder while Raiden stuck to Kung Lao, acting as a bodyguard, especially when Kung Lao decided to train Shujinko once more and try to correct his past mistakes. Whenever the student’s hands would wander too close to Kung Lao’s neck or sparked a bit too much electricity, Kung Lao would flinch backward, breath quicker and muscles tense, too small of an action for the untrained eye but it was enough for Raiden to cut the training sessions short and take Kung Lao away to help him calm down.

A few more months passed, and nothing happened to Kung Lao. Liu Kang relaxed once more because with Raiden so close to Kung Lao, the Fire God had nothing to worry about. He watched as Raiden and Kung Lao became closer to each other, a twinge of bitterness in his heart as he was reminded of the late nights he used to share with Kung Lao. His heart sang with sadness when he witnessed Raiden leave a gentle kiss on Kung Lao’s lips on a surprise visit, and the Fire God wished he could take Kung Lao all for himself. He missed Kung Lao. It was an ache in his heart that would not soothe itself. Every night, Liu Kang would sit in front of the hourglass and sometimes he could feel the past touches of his Kung Lao drift over his shoulders, his arms, his neck. He would glance back, expecting to see a smug smile and crinkled eyes, but no one would be there.

But, Liu Kang couldn’t just contact Titan Kung Lao and indulge in his memories. Not when they were both so busy. And so, he just watched as Raiden and Kung Lao grew closer and closer to each other, touches lingering on each other’s arms and bright eyes drinking in each other’s bodies.

And then, Shang Tsung came with Quan Chi, attacking the academy in an attempt to erase the initiates and any further resistance to their grab for power. Liu Kang had arrived early enough to see the pair slaughtering innocent monks and relishing in their dying breaths and stealing their souls. He had come late enough to see none of the students remained, all taken down to safety lockdown rooms. He had come in time to see Kung Lao fighting off Quan Chi’s demons, not sensing Shang Tsung right behind him.

Right then and there, as Liu Kang watched Shang Tsung unsheathe the claws on his arms and aim to stab right through Kung Lao’s heart, he grabbed onto the threads of time and pulled. He could not, would not have Kung Lao die again. Liu Kang would not survive if he watched him fall to the ground once more. If he watched Kung Lao die again, the skies would rain fire, and the seas would boil. He would tear through Earth and Outworld to fight for Kung Lao’s life. He would kill to save.

Raiden turned from his own fight, controlled like a puppet on strings and put himself between Shang Tsung’s attack and Kung Lao’s body. Liu Kang watched in horror, too late to try and straighten the threads of time as Raiden coughed up blood and shot streaks of lightning through Shang Tsung’s arm. The sorcerer howled in pain and signaled for him and Quan Chi to leave, disappearing in a dark portal as the demons retreated back to their hell.

Liu Kang would not forget the screams of Kung Lao as he held Raiden in his arms, hands desperately trying to keep the blood from flowing. He would not forget the tearful sobs that Kung Lao let out when he realized that Raiden had died in an instant, eyes cold and unseeing. He would not forget the broken whimpers of Kung Lao as he repeated his love for Raiden over and over again.

Liu Kang came over, trying to explain himself for the action, not aware that Kung Lao didn’t know that he had directly caused Raiden’s death. That was his mistake. When Kung Lao looked up at Liu Kang, eyes filled with confusion then hatred as he realized that Lord Liu Kang had inadvertently killed Raiden, Kung Lao screamed at the god, not caring of his position. He screamed that this was Liu Kang’s fault, to bring Raiden back to him. To bring him back so Kung Lao could tell him that he loved him. To bring him back so that Kung Lao could take him to Madam Bo’s and propose on the anniversary of their first date. To bring him back so that they could grow old together. To bring him back so that he could hold Raiden’s warm body in his arms again.

Liu Kang flinched backward when Kung Lao threw his hat at the god, screaming and wailing as he held onto Raiden’s cooling body like a lifeline. Liu Kang disappeared after that. He watched through the hourglass as Kung Lao fought tooth and nail to keep Johnny and Kenshi from taking Raiden from his bloodied hands. In the end, Johnny had to knock Kung Lao unconscious to get the monk to let go of Raiden’s pale body.

Liu Kang watched the white funeral for the champion that Kung Lao didn’t attend, still distraught and in denial about his lover’s death and spotted an engagement ring on Raiden’s finger, a ring of simple design with a pattern of cherry blossoms and blue lightning streaks.

Liu Kang watched as Kung Lao became a shell of himself. He didn’t eat, didn’t train, didn’t do anything except sit in front of Raiden’s grave everyday.

Liu Kang watched as the monk drank at every opportunity, and he listened to the prayers that Kung Lao sent his way, begging him to bring Raiden back to him before switching to angry insults about how Fire God Liu Kang was a terrible god. That he did not deserve his title.

Even Geras, Liu Kang’s most loyal friend and trustee had criticized him for his actions, saying that he should not have messed with the threads of time, and Liu Kang knew that he was wrong for trying to protect the sliver of his past that he held onto.

Eventually, Kung Lao healed, went back to his training, started talking to Johnny and Kenshi again, and quit drinking himself into a stupor. But, there was a certain slowness to his movements, a part of his soul that died with Raiden. His smile never reached his eyes, his words were shorter, sharper than before. He would reach out for someone after accomplishing something, turning with a smile for a ghost. When Liu Kang came back to the academy to check on the student's progress, Kung Lao only greeted him cordially and escaped the room, uninterested in talking to the god when before Kung Lao would spend every waking moment with him.

Liu Kang watched as he lost his best friend all over again, and how there was nothing he could do to change that.

a/n: yeah, this is based on @helsensm Kung Lao's Dead AU. what're you gonna do about it?? in all actuality, while i love seeing kung lao die (i love torturing my faves), i wanted to see kung lao suffer the emotional brunt of death and how that would happen. consider this an au of an au. if you see any grammatical mistakes, no you didn't. i whipped this out in like two hours; cut me some slack.

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