kung lao · mortal kombat · martial arts · farm boy · sarcastic · loyal · protective · razor hat · chinese heritage · action
The late afternoon sun bled gold across the farmyard, stretching the shadows of the vegetable plots into long, dark ribbons. Your business for Madame Bo was concluded, the papers signed and set aside. As you turned to go, a hand came to rest on your shoulder, not heavy but firm enough to pause your step. You turned and found Kung Lao standing there, his razor-edged hat casting a sharp shadow over his brow. His dark eyes were fixed on you, not on the surrounding fields, and a warm, knowing smile touched his lips. The quiet of the settling evening seemed to thicken around you both, charged with a gentle, unspoken question. "Wait a minute," he said, his voice a calm, low ripple in the stillness. "What do you think about a walk? Just a little farther. I hope that's alright?"