Reptile: Last Son of the Saurians

I had an idea for this fic after I watched the first Mortal Kombat movie for the first time in many, many years. I liked the movie, and I feel to this day it's the only video game movie true to the spirit of the video games it sprang from. In its heyday the Mortal Kombat Trilogy combined epic graphic violence with dark humor and pure, unadulterated cheese and it was gloriously unapologetic about it even going so far as to mock its critics with the infamous "Friendship" finishers. In this way I felt that Paul Anderson did something he would forever fail to do every time he tried to adapt another video game to the screen from then on. He translated the game to the film without loosing what made the games so memorable and unique.

However, I will admit that the treatment of some of the characters was a bit underwhelming. Particularly Reptile, my personal favorite character, who seemed thrown in as a bit of an afterthought so Paul could throw in another fight scene. Seeing how he was treated in the short-film-that-shall-not-be-named-that-thankfully-has nothing-to-do-with-the-current-web-series it provoked me to rewrite the first film from Reptile's point of view, giving him a bigger part and exploring his origins and characterizations a bit. My original plan was to write a prologue depicting Reptile's first meeting with Baraka and their subsequent raid on a nest of rebels before cutting to the moderen day but that prologue took on a life of its own which would then segueway into Shao Khan's murder of the Saurian Matriarch, evolving into what you're about to read.

-------------------------------------
Thick green blood sprayed the air, slapped wetly against the stone statues of the Zattaran ancestors. The dry season was coming to an end, soon the storms would come and the air already smelled of rain. The cheers of those loyal to Outworld, the mixture of Tarkatan, Shokan, and Centaurians come to bear witness the final battle split the air. The reptilian natives of this realm were somber as they knew that this was their final hour as a free people. The Saurians’ champion stumbled back, her life’s blood flowing freely from the stump of where her arm used to be, coils of intestines and clusters of unfertilized eggs spilled from her cut open abdomen. It was over, Outworld had won its tenth consecutive Mortal Kombat tournament against the people of Zaterra.

Shao Khan watched from his skull throne as the reptilian warrior, whose name was but a haphazard collection of hisses and clicking snarls to Shao Khan’s ears began to sway back and forth. Shao Khan intended to learn the language and customs of the Saurians once the unification process was complete. It wouldn’t do to be ignorant about any of his subjects, even though the Saurians promised to be a diminutive demographic in the melting pot he so proudly called his empire. Of course the assembled Saurians were horrified at the thought of being brought under his leadership, but he didn’t hold it against them. They were a small species, alone and weak. Cowering in this dreary wet realm in isolation, they had the same ridiculously romantic notions of “freedom” and “individuality” as all the other lost realms. He would break them of that, he would show them that life serving him with all other races was the only way to live. The only way to truly live “free” was the freedom of giving up their will to him.

He knew what was best for them, even if they were to stubborn to admit it. The Tarkata understood the truth. They did as they were told without question and many even relished the work he assigned them. Though they were not a favorite race of his as the Centaurians and Shokan were, hideous and plague ridden vermin beings descended from demons, they were valued for their loyalty and on occasion produced powerful warriors. Kalibos for instance, the warrior who had just won him another piece of what was rightfully his in the first place. A Tarkatan who had triumphed where the mightiest Shokan and Centaurian had failed, Kalibos had just earned his clan high favor with the Emperor of Outworld. Surely, he had earned himself glory among his comrades.

Shao Khan liked Kalibos, he was a savage and bloodthirsty warrior who would slaughter his own wives and children if only to please his lord. Loyalty was pleasing, mindless devotion was even better. Kalibos worshipped Shao Khan as a living god, but he wasn’t irritatingly sycophantic either which was also a strike in the creature‘s favor. Combined with Kalibos’ deadly fighting skills it made Shao Khan seriously consider giving the Tarkatan a higher rank. Perhaps making him an equal to young Prince Goro, who was proving himself to be an effective fighter in his own right? It would cause upset among his inner circle to be sure, at the very least it would insult the dignity of the stuffy Edonians and arrogant Centaurians. He did so enjoy prodding their egos…

Kalibos raised his bladed arms skyward and howled in exaltation, the left one had been broken off at the midpoint, and Kalibos had had it ground down and the entire length of the weapon reshaped into a more elaborate shape than the relatively simple arm blade that was natural to the species. His face was heavily wrinkled, his glowing azure eyes almost lost beneath the fleshy folds of his brow. His cheeks hanging drown to his chin in heavy jowls that leaked saliva. This was not a sign of age however, Kalibos was in his prime. He had a scraggly white mane of hair, unusual for a Tarkatan male, and most of the teeth in his mouth were yellow from neglect and broken from his battle with the Saurian warriors.

Kalibos let loose with a wet, rattling war cry as he pulled the Zaterran sword from his chest and threw it to the ground. Blood bubbled from the wound and sprayed from his mouth, one of his lungs punctured. For many races this wound would have been mortal, but although it was serious it was not life threatening for the Outworlder and Kalibos was in such high spirits he didn‘t even seem to notice.

Shao Khan nodded slowly and boomed:

“Finish her!”

Kalibos grinned crazily, glaring down at the assembled Saurians. The battle had taken place in an ancient Saurian coliseum, it had fallen into disuse centuries ago after a plague had devastated the Saurian tribe who had used it and blood sport and been banned for decades while the tribe repopulated. The jungle had quickly taken it back, but now it would see death one final time. The reptilian statues that ringed the raised stone platform gazed down menacingly as the Tarkatan approached his dazed victim.

Kalibos began by dragging the serrated edge of his modified blade across her face, ripping skin from bone and exposing skull. She screamed in misery even as jammed his right blade into her mouth and lifted her up, her body dangling from her impaled skull as he began to cut her into pieces. Shao Khan watched, amused by the brutality of his champion. Yes, Kalibos had earned his place in the battle songs of his clan this day and as he tore the head from the female’s still wiggling torso and held it aloft any doubt in Shao Khan’s mind that he would make Kalibos a general dispersed.

The Tarkatan tossed the female’s head at her family and then began to tear off his shredded leather armor. Shao Khan finally allowed himself and deep, rumbling laugh. Kalibos was a fine warrior and judging from how he defiled his enemy’s still twitching torso in front of her mate and children he had a sense of humor much like Shao Khan’s as well.

Oh yes, Kalibos was going places.

The sky turned a ghastly reddish purple like an infected wound, the earth shook and rumbled. Walls of energy raced across the Zaterran landscape as Outworld devoured Shao Khan’s latest conquest. All across the realm animals panicked and stampeded, volcanoes erupted, seas boiled. It was a beautiful sight, the destruction and remaking of Zaterra, painful for the inhabitants in the short term but in the long run it would be the best thing that could ever happen to them. They wouldn’t know it at first, but he’d give them time. They’d come to accept him as their one true ruler.

They would have no choice.

He stood at the summit of a immense but strangely squat pyramid. The statue of the Saurian god lay smashed at his feet and a new one, a statue of Shao Khan himself, was being raised in its place. Shao Khan smiled proudly as the world shuddered and wept. Kitana was with him, she was discussing something with some Saurian priest. Sindel remained in the palace, having suffered another miscarriage. He couldn’t deal with her overemotional squawking about the dead child. She was devastated by the loss of another baby, Shao Khan merely irritated by his Queen‘s latest failure in her duties. It was slightly disconcerting that Sindel had yet to produce an heir but he supposed that if push came to shove Kitana would make as fine a successor to his throne as any son. Yet that day was a long way off, Shao Khan didn’t plan on dying any time soon, his lack of sons ranked somewhere below what he was having for supper on the list of things on his mind.

An Edenian slave approached, bowed low. He wore a drab gray shawl and plain trousers and nothing else. Shao Khan looked down at the twig thin servant and nodded, giving the man permission to annoy Shao Khan with his flighty voice.

“The Matriarch of the Venom Blade bloodline comes bearing a gift.” The slave squeaked. He sounded more like a teenage girl than a man…he looked more like a teenage girl than a man. Shao Khan’s ears rang at the skirling sound, he had to remember to have the slave thrown to a something that that killed its victims slowly. Or raped them. Or both.

Shao Khan nodded to his royal guard to escort the Saurian Queen to his presence. The Centaurians snorted and hefted their pikes then raced down the steps of the pyramid to retrieve the female. Venom Blade was a small tribe he believed, yet the came seemed familiar to him somehow…wasn’t the Saurian Champion whom Kalibos had killed a member of that tribe? It mattered little, he would do away with the tribal system once the Saurians were welcomed into the empire. The Tarkatan and their constant tribal, clannish warfare produced enough headaches as it was. He would nip this problem in the bud before it began, the Saurians would be stripped of all tribal and cultural identity and fully integrated into the Outworld population in ways he had never done before. He suspected it would make things that much easier for them to adjust and come to accept his rule if he simply destroyed all of their beliefs.

Moments latter the green garbed, olive skinned Venom Blade matriarch stepped up onto the top of the pyramid. She was quite lovely, though Shao Khan knew that this beautiful visage was merely an illusion. In their true form the Saurians were revolting combinations of reptile and humanoid. Still, distasteful as they were they where part of his empire now. He would hear what this walking snake had to say.

She was flanked by two Saurian Warriors, one was male the other was female. The male wore a battle weathered but still quite functional suit of plate mail and carried a long, forked sword. The female wore a dark leathery suit of armor that seemed to have been made from the hide of the large bipedal predators that where one of many species the Saurians had brought from their native realm when they had moved to this one. She wore a veil not dissimilar from Kirana’s and carried a wicked looking scythe. The Matriarch held in her arms a elongated box that looked as though it had been carved from volcanic rock. The Queen got to one knee and bowed her head, her warriors mirrored her movements. She began to speak to him in her language of hisses and clicks. Shao Khan tilted his head like a curious hound and then called for Kitana.

The female ninja was at his side at a moments notice, and began to translate the Matriarch’s bizarre language without even being asked.

“We, the last of the Venom Blade Bloodline who fought you with all that we could muster, recognize your victory over us.” Kitana spoke for the Saurian Queen.

Ah, an official display of subservience. Not needed of course, but Shao Khan appreciated the gesture.

“The warrior you defeated in Mortal Kombat was my eldest daughter and the heir to my title and powers. I have no more children and my mate is long dead, and thus can only offer you this-”

The Matriarch opened the box and held it up for him to see.

“The last of her unhatched clutch. Her mate crushed the rest of her eggs to prevent them from being given to you. Only this one could be saved, you have my apology.”

Inside the box, laying nestled in a small nest of damp twigs and leaves was a large egg. White, but with green mottling. The shell was leathery like that of a crocodile rather than hard like that of a bird or dinosaur and occasionally he could see the twitching of the embryo beneath the surface.

“And what does she expect me to do with this…gift?” Shao Khan asked Kitana, his voice betrayed impatience.

Kitana clicked and gurgled. The Matriarch’s body became rigid, he could see the question galled her and her answer was crisp and a bit strained.

“Whatever use you might have for it, O’ King. As a slave, as a meal. The hatchling’s life is yours as new ruler of the Bloodline.” Kitana thought for a moment, before adding. “Father, ideally the hatchling would be trained to be a warrior if male, and if female then the ideal outcome would be her becoming your concubine.”

Shao Khan rolled his eyes. The idea that he would ever mate with a lizard was ludicrous.

“Very well, I accept this gift but remind her that as the new ruler of the Saurian race all of their lives belong to me.” Shao Khan growled. He gestured for the Edenian slave to take the egg from its grandmother.

The Edenian reached to take the egg and the Queen hissed. For a moment her mask of humanity dropped and the reptilian creature beneath emerged, jaws opened impossibly wide and eyes shining red. His royal guard brandished their weapons and the Saurian warriors did the same. A emerald green projectile shot from the Matriarch’s mouth and landed on the slave’s hand, immediately the acid set about devouring flesh and eating to the bone. The slave shrieked in pain and grabbed the smoking ruin of his hand.

Before Shao Khan had a chance to crush her skull for her insolence she edged clser and gestured with the box.o

“I believe she wants you to take the egg personally, Father.” Kitana insisted.

Shao Khan snarled in annoyance and grabbed the box.

“Get her out of my sight before I throw her from the pyramid and toss the damn thing after her!” Shao Khan bellowed. The Centaurians were only to happy to oblige. They found the Saurians even more disgusting than Shao Khan did. “And shut him up!” He pointed to the Edenian slave who was currently rocking back and forth on the ground, sobbing hysterically. Other slaves rushed forward to drag him away.

Shao Khan regarded the egg for a moment, before grabbing it and lifting it out of its nest. He dropped the box to the ground and held the egg aloft, eyeing it for a moment.

“What do you think Kitana, breakfast?” Shao Khan rumbled.

“Father.” Kitana laughed. “Don’t be cruel.”

Shao Khan growled thoughtfully, and become silent as he considered the egg and its occupant.

“See to hatching it, if it does put it into a military orphanage. Its mother was a decent fighter, perhaps it will have inherited some of her skill.” Shao Khan finally said off handedly. “Catch.” He muttered before tossing it over his shoulder. Her heard the sudden uncoordinated clattering of hooves as the Centaurians tripped over themselves to catch the egg. Shao Khan walked away and began to descend into the interior of the temple, all this talk of breakfast and eggs had made him hungry. He didn’t give the egg a second thought, and wouldn’t even remember the incident for a long time.

Not until he realized the mistake he had made in allowing it to live.

Two Centuries Later
-----
The creature that was called Reptile by those who didn’t speak the Saurian language (which in Outworld meant everyone but the Saurians themselves) was a child of Zattarra first and a warrior of Shao Khan second.

That’s what he told himself at least.

He had a name in his native tongue, one he was proud of and one which he preferred to the moniker forced upon him by his commanders. Calling a Saurian “Reptile” would be like naming a Tarkatan “Mutant” or “Demonspawn” or calling a human “Monkey”. Or giving a Centaurian the name “Stuck up Shithead”. It was technically true perhaps, especially in the case of the Centaurian, but it was an oversimplification. Still, most of his comrades meant no offense, especially since almost none of them could speak Saurian.

“Reptile, we’re in position.”

Baraka especially, had no hope in hell of prouncing his true name. Baraka had always known him as Reptile, and probably didn’t even know that wasn’t even his true name.

The Saurian looked at the Tarkatan, who was wearing white and red rags. Baraka didn’t have the rank to rate getting his own uniform. He was a Tarkatan, he barely rated high enough in the imperial ranks to get fed. Saurians were treated little better than nomadic mutants. Reptile had forged himself glistening black armor made from the carapace of a titanic beetle that inhabited what had once been the Zattaran western deserts. Now Zattara was all desert, a wasteland like the rest of Outworld.

The two of them crouched over the lip of the canyon, Reptile was invisible, Baraka had to rely on more mundane means of stealth.

“Will those brainless Shokan wait for the signal?” Reptile hissed.

“Will my arm blades turn to solid platinum?” Baraka snarled. “Look at it this way, while they’re dying like idiots it’ll give us a chance to salvage this mission.”

Rogue Centaurians, demanding their home realm be freed from Shao Khan’s tyranny. Same old shit, different day. It wasn’t that people weren’t rebelling against Shao Khan, oh no, its just that these little freedom fighter factions were usually so disorganized and often times so stupid that they were smashed almost as quickly as they formed. Reptile and Baraka had been sent to knock over this one before it gathered to much steam. This time though they had been saddled with a troop of young, freshly blooded Shokan warriors. Eager to prove themselves and in typical Shokan fashion totally dismissive of the Saurians and Tarkatan even though Reptile and Baraka outranked them.

“If they all die we’ll catch hell from Kintaro.” Reptile explained. “Of course if any of them live they’ll be venerated as young heroes who saved us helpless wretches from the mighty Centaurians.”

“Aye, my point exactly. Better we take fifty lashes from each of that fool’s arms than suffer through being made a laughing stock by a gaggle of Shokan brats who‘ve not even unsheathed their claspers.” Baraka growled.

“You have an unhealthy fascination with Shokan genitalia.” Reptile remarked with a clicking laugh.

“Shokan, Human, Centaurian. I’ve had them all, Reptile. All of them soft and wet and without any breeding barbs.” Baraka snorted in derision, forgetting that when it came to possessing reproductive organs with retractible grasping hooks Tarkatans were the exception and not the rule.

Reptile dropped his invisibility long enough to shoot his brother-in-arms a glare.

“Come near my Queen and I’ll castrate you.” Reptile barked.

Baraka stifled a rasping laugh.

“And what of your lovely Queen, Reptile? Have you entered her scaly gates yet?” Baraka asked.

“Saurians never mate and tell, unlike Tarkatan who don’t need to tell anyone because you mate in the streets like rutting dogs.” Reptile hissed.

Baraka chuckled again, and Reptile joined in with his own laughter. The laughter died down though and they both looked to the south, where the Centaurians were expected to arrive from. The bravado held the tight pangs of fear that proceeded every battle, the anticipation of the bloodshed to come. Even for born bloodthirsty warriors like Baraka there was the tiniest tingle of apprehension. It never stopped them though. There was no honor in being without fear, in fact that was often a sign of stupidity and led to an early death. But both Baraka and Reptile were stronger than that fear, and that was what made them survivors.

“How many do you think we’ll loose?” Reptile asked, referring to their men.

“Far more than we’d loose if we weren’t holding the hands of those Shokan infants by my reckoning.” Baraka muttered bitterly.

“Think there’ll ever be an end to this?” Reptile asked. Baraka gave him a confused frown. “All this fighting?”

“Mor no, I hope not.” Baraka said with a shiver, invoking the Tatakarin war god to emphasize his distaste for the idea. “Then what would we do?”

“Grow old and die.” Reptile said wistfully.

“Feh, that’s for Edenian she-boys and fat Shokan nobleman. True warriors die on their feet, Reptile.” Baraka grunted.

“I’d rather die in a bed…preferably with Princess Kitana underneath me.” Reptile hissed, making an obscene gesture.

“Hmm, a fine an argument as any.” Baraka growled. “Though I’d much prefer Sindel. Kitana’s to young and soft for my liking. Her mother…heh, I’m sure she learned a thing or two in her day.”

“In her day? Kitana’s older than both of us put together you fool, I‘d say she‘s learned plenty.”

“Oh aye, but Sindel’s older still. Besides, you really think Kitana‘s been with any man other than one of her prissy human consorts when she was but a moltling and feeling defiant of her parents? No Reptile, she‘s far to much the daddy‘s girl these days to be learning what a woman needs to learn to please a real man.” Baraka said with a derisive snort.

“By real man you mean twisted clawed tumor like yourself?” Reptile asked with a fanged yawn.

“Better a twisted clawed tumor than an egg laying snake!” Baraka said with a playful swipe of his talons. “Do you even have the proper tools for anything but one of your dragon women, you acid pissing freak?”

Reptile was about to retort with the insinuation that he had copulated with Baraka’s mother when a flashing spark of blade against blade alerted them to one of the caves below. A signal.

“Ah, here they come.” Baraka said as he saw the plumes of smoke rising in the distance.

A low trumpet sounded out in the distance, they heard the roars and whinnies of the approaching Centaurian warband. Fresh from raiding a settlement for supplies and women no doubt.

“As load and boastful as ever, making complete spectacles out of themselves despite having declared open war of Shao Khan and…of course…probably drunk.” Reptile hissed.

The two of them looked at each other.

“Same shit, different day.” They said in unison.

Reptile moved the clamber down the sheer canyon wall.

“Be careful, Mutant. Without you I have no one to blame the commander’s missing liquor on.” Reptile called over his shoulder.

“See you in hell, Lizard Breath.” Baraka said as he turned and loped away to where his men where hidden.

Reptile pulled down his leather mask over his mouth, showing only his reptilian eyes. His human disguise was allowed to melt away beneath the beetle armor. He focused all of his concentration on the battle at hand. His Saurians clung to rocks below and he crawled over and around them to get to a lower perch. When battle was joined he would lead the charge as was expected of a leader, even one so humble as to be mere alpha of a small band of the so called “Raptor Elite” though they were treated no better than common dogs by the other Outworlders. His men, along with Baraka’s gang of misfit warriors, were given the dangerous assignments expected of elite warriors though for the same pay as the rank and file foot soldiers of the Empire.

‘Glory to Shao Khan, the cheap bastard.’ He thought glumly as his second in command clicked a report. Their language made them excellent field agents, almost no one else spoke it and because it was comprised mostly of clicks and hisses many who were not Saurian would dismiss it as natural sounds either of wind or wildlife.

This mission was rather routine all the same, though the young Shokan warriors added an element of unpredictability that could prove dangerous. His second gave him no information he did not expect. The men were ready, their acid glands were full to bursting and blades and claws singing for combat. One of them hissed a witty afterthought about the stink of the Shokan hiding in the caves below and the rest of the men, Reptile included, croaked laughter.

This mission might not turn out to be such a complete disaster after all.

-----


“This humping mission is a complete disaster!” Baraka roared indignantly as he severed the head of a Centaurian rebel. “Those damn Shokan mother humpers! I’ll have their skins for toilet paper!”

“You’ll have to get in line, chief!” A one eyed Tarkatan said jovially as he clubbed another rebel to death with his own severed arm. “Looks like most of ‘em are getting their hides torn up good!”

The battle had devolved into chaos, the plan had been for Reptile’s Saurians to rain acid and crossbow bolts down on the Centaurians, who had no ranged weapons of their own save for the occasionally elder warrior who had the ability to project energy blasts. The rebels would retreat, right out of the canyon and into the waiting blades of Baraka’s men. The Shokan and the Raptor Elite would then descend upon them and finish them quickly and efficiently.

Just as Reptile and Baraka had suspected though, the young Shokan warriors had attacked to early and both of their parties had been forced to descend into the fray quickly to prevent the rebels from escaping into the open plains.

Reptile ignored his fellow’s complaining and focused on maintaining his invisibility long enough to leap onto a young Centaurian’s back and snap his neck. Leaping from the dead rebel’s back he tackled another one mid-stide and crushed his larynx with a quick jab to the throat followed by a glob of acid in his face for good measure. Leaving the dying creature to its fate he darted in underneath another Centaurian’s guard and struck her with an elbow to the base of the skull. She yelped like a kicked dog and faltered, another Saurian carved deep into her lower abdomen with his scimitar and Reptile finished her by smashing her head into a rock.

A young Shokan with talons and a pelt like a tiger was lying pinned beneath a dying Centaurian warrior who fought to drive a spear into his enemy’s neck even as he bled out from a severed back leg. Reptile focused his energy and brought his hands together, summong energy ball of compressed kinetic force wrapped in a green force shell. Reptile threw the force ball which struck the Centaurian in the side of his head head, snapping off a horn and flooring him. The Shokan bellowed in fury and grabbed the spear he then clubbed the Centaurian with it before driving the point into the rebel’s faltering heart. The Shokan bellowed in triumph, all four arms spread wide in a victory pose.

“I win! Flawless victory!” He trumpeted, moments before a Centaurian throwing axe cleaved through his back. He gasped in surprise and agony and fell across the body of the dead Centaurian, not yet dead by surely dying.

Reptile sighed and shook his head, better the fool die thus than taint the Shokan genetic pool further with his stupidity. The Saurian had no more chance to consider the fallen Shokan before another Centaurian lashed out with his cybernetic tail. Reptile barely had time to dodge a rocket propelled spike fired from the metal limb and retaliated with a glob of acid spit. The attack struck home, but instead of eating through flesh it crumpled the Centaurian’s metal chest plate, giving the warrior precious seconds to tear it off and throw it away. Still the skin on his chest was raw and peeling, the acid had eaten its way right through the metal and begun to damage his chest. Reptile didn’t have a moment to be be pleased with the potency of his acid. The Centaurian swung his tail and struck Reptile square in his broad chest.

His armor, both what he had made from beetle shell and his naturally tough scales, absorbed most of the impact but he was still thrown at least ten feet by the blow. He rolled across the ground, coming to a stop in a crumpled heap. His armor had spared him broken ribs, but he was still dazed by the blow. By inches he fought his way to his feet, shook the stars from his vision…and saw the Centaurian charging him, a spear ready to be thrown. Reptile crouched low and met the charge with one of his own. The Centaurian roared in rage and threw the spear but Reptile managed to leap just in time to avoid impalement however he had stepped out of the frying pan and right into a boiling inferno a second Centaurian reared, seemingly from out of nowhere and brought her hooves down on Reptile’s chest.

The Saurian collapsed beneath the weight of the Centaurian as she reared up again and began to stomp and kick him. Attempting to tample him to death, Reptile snarled, fought back but through his blows crunched the ribs of the horse section of the female’s body but her blows kept raining down. He opened his mouth to spit acid but a hoof connected with his lower jaw and snapped his mouth shut. The female Centaurian screamed in triumph and drew a long curving dagger, preparing to cut out Reptile’s heart. It would have been nice in theory but her dagger simply bounced off his armor. She shrieked in frustration and reared back giving Reptile the time he needed to slam his foot roughly into her back leg, breaking her knee and sending her collapsing onto her side. He was on top of her in an instant and without thinking he drove his own dagger deep into her brain. She died with a shudder and a low cry and nothing else.

Reptile snorted, turned around…

The male Centaurian screamed in rage, eyes mad with loss and sorrow and fury. Reptile saw the katana in his hand and managed to bring one gauntlet sheathed forearm up to block the blade before it sliced through his skull. The katana, devastating against unarmored targets but useless against one so protected as he, clanged uselessly off his armor which was as strong as forged iron and much lighter and retaliated with a punch to the kidney. Reptile felt the organ burst beneath his fist and pressed his advantage his second punch cracked bone and Reptile saw the Centaurian’s eye explode into pulpy white and red gore. The Centaurian stumbled back, dazed and in pain. Reptile smiled, and knew it was time to finish him.

He tore off his mask and opened his jaws wide, his tongue distended horrifically and shot forward to wrap around the Centaurian’s throat. The tormented creature’s remaining eye bulged in sudden panic and he bucked and whinnied in fear. Reptile hissed and jerked his head in the opposite direction. Pain erupted at the base of his tongue but he hear the satisfying crunch of bone and the Centaurian collapsed dead from a broken neck. Reptile planted his foot on the Centaurian’s chest and jerked his head again, this time retracting his tongue back into his mouth. There was a fleshy ripping sound and the Centaurian’s head was torn bodily from its shoulders. Reptile caught the head in one hand and sank his teeth into the Centaurian’s cheek, tearing off flesh and devouring it greedily. For a moment he was lost in bloodlust as he set about devouring the rest of the head, biting into the skull like an oversized apple and forgetting he was in the midst of a battle.

A Centaurian’s club struck him in the back of the head, sending him sprawling. He turned around, saw the Centaurian had one arm replaced with a rusty looking iron blade, which raised high to cut his head from his shoulders.

Baraka leapt in between the Centaurian and his comrade, parried the blow with his own arm blade and then jumped back. He drew one metallic blade across the length of the other and from the tips erupted a brilliant blue light followed by a razor sharp shard of energy. The projectile tore through the Centaurian’s chest and Baraka leapt forth to drive his blade deep into the Centaurian’s heart.

“That’s fifteen for me, Reptile. What’s your score again?” He asked with a laugh, leaping to engage another Centaurian.

“Only fifteen, Baraka?” Reptile shouted as he clambered to his feet. “You were out to late drinking and whoring, best you sit this one out to avoid hurting yourself.” Reptile was able to redirect another Centaurian’s blow but his head still spun. He turned invisible and crouched low, trying to collect himself, but he suddenly felt something warm trickle from his ears and the corner of his eyes. As Reptile fell to his knees he realize it was blood. His skull was cracked, his brain was bleeding.

“Oh aye, I was having myself a gay old time while you shut in your quarters stroking your-” Barracka’s glowing yellow eyes fell on Reptile just in time to see the Saurian warrior collapse, flickering into visibility as he did so. “Reptile?” He jammed his blade into the nasal cavity of a Centaurian and then batted him away. “Reptile!”

A Centaurian trotted up to the twitching Saurian warrior, raised a blade high to drive it through Reptile‘s back.

Baraka snarled and leapt at the Centaurian. Another tried to get in his way and impale him on a trident but Barraka’s arm blade sliced through the Centaurian’s belly, then his chest, then his neck and head. The Centaurian collapsed, the upper portion of his body bisected. Baraka didn’t bother to stop and admire his kill, his was already driving his arm blades into the head of the Centaurian about to skewer Reptile. His arms blades swiped furiously and the Centaurian’s head flew apart into bloody chunks of brain and bone. Baraka crouched above his fallen comrade and shook him furiously.

“Up, Reptile, up! We have killing yet to do my friend! Our master’s enemies are still breathing, you’ll miss the fun!” Baraka hollered, but his voice was laced with fear for Reptile. Baraka grabbed the Saurian, dragged him to his feet and tried to drag him away from the fighting. “Up, on your feet you lazy sack of turds, we’ve got money to earn!”

Baraka reached the far canyon wall. The fighting was still furious but the Centaurian’s were outnumbered and outgunned. The day belonged to Shao Khan’s forces. Baraka tossed Reptile up against a cluster of boulders slightly less exposed than the others.

“Wake up, damn you. Fight’s dying down, don’t want to miss the fun now do we Reptile?”

The Saurian didn’t move, he lay there limp as a rag doll.

“Damn it Reptile, if I miss all the good killing for your lazy ass and going to bend that ***** Matriarch of yours over a dead camel and **** her until her eyes bleed!”

Reptile still didn’t stir, and Baraka knew that it was serious. Reptile could be dying, he probably was dying. It didn’t seem possible, they had fought alongside one another since their youth. Reptile dying was like the sun going out or the wind never blowing again, it was impossible to even contemplate such a loss. Baraka slapped Reptile roughly across the face.

The Saurian slid to the ground, collapsing in an awkward position. Baraka watched as Reptile lay unmoving, blood still trickling from the Saurian’s eyes and ears. Baraka’s hideous face twisted into a pained grimace. He had lost many friends in his lifetime as a warrior, both comrades and Tarkatan underlings. Young men, barely old enough to have known a woman’s warmth. Tarkatan’s he had molted with, and young ones whose parents he promised to get home battle scarred but still alive. He had long since learned not to make any such promise.

But he never though he’d see the end of Reptile, the Saurian whom he had come to call his brother.

“True warriors die on their feet, Reptile.” Baraka said with a saddened growl. “May Mor take you to the hall of warriors as though you were born to a Tarkatan woman-”

“If I was born of a Tarkatan woman, I’d surely be crawling with venereal diseases by now.” Reptile groaned miserably

“Reptile, you’re alive!” Baraka roared in triumph.

“Aliveish.” Reptile hissed weakly. He rolled onto his stomach, even though pain screamed in his head.

“Don’t move, you filthy lizard, your skull is probably fractured.” Baraka growled, he looked over his shoulder. The last remaining rebels lay dead or dying. The fight was over. “Healer! Healer! Your alpha has fallen!”

“My skull?…” Reptile lay still but he couldn't stop himself from grinding his fangs together in anger. “Then why were you slapping you dumb son of a whore?”

“Why wouldn’t I slap you?-HEALER!” Baraka shouted.

Reptile would have laughed, but that would probably do more harm than was worth it. He settled for slipping back into unconsciousness.

----

I had to break this into four parts. Sorry.

I liked it I worte a story almost like that its just called Last of the Saurian LOL but it eas a bit different