Everyone in the building knew who walked through the doors the second they saw his flashy gold button up and tight black slacks. The shirt was a weak attempt at hiding the man's washboard abs. It was fully open and flowing behind him as he took confident strides in the club. He fist-bumped security and started making his way towards his designated booth.
"Calm your pecs, Meatball. Those guys are with me!" the superstar yelled, throwing off his own groove to defend his buddies that tagged along for the ride. He invited them, and they were all informed of what a night out with famous actor, Johnny Cage, would be like. They shouldn't have been shocked that security almost threw them out. None of them looked right standing next to the national treasure of Hollywood.
Cage gathered his friends and sat them down on the couch. Raiden and Kung Lao had to be together; they're so stuck at the hip; somebody would need to perform surgery to tear them apart. He seated them at the end of the maroon couch. Next to them was Tomas, who was already looking starry eyed at the bold decor. Cage was tempted to double check with Tomas' pseudo-brother, Kuai Liang, to make sure he was of legal age, and not some kid who just touched grass. Last was Syzoth, who he wasn't that close with.
This was all Kenshi's fault. He was supposed to be the one sitting right beside the movie star, but after hearing about what happened with Syzoth, Kenshi made an excuse that the Zaterran should take his place. Cage would've preferred his best friend to say that he'd rather choke on his own sword than go to a strip club.
So here he was, playing babysitter to childhood lovebirds, an overstimulated puppy, and a heartbroken lizard.
"I bet that she couldn't rock your world like that, could she?" Cage shouted to Syzoth over the booming music. A woman with a curvy figure entered the stage, but she was underwhelming compared to the females Cage had met in the Netherrealm. Coming from a mystical universe and returning to his own world sucked, but at least Cage knew that none of these girls were out of his league.
The pair of friends on the end of the couch stopped conversing to watch the woman tease them with her swaying hips. She carried some of the largest breasts they have ever seen. Kung Lao had to remove his hat to get a clearer view.
"She must have worked really hard to perform those skills," Raiden rubbed his chin, like he was studying a specimen. If that was to distract anybody from noticing the bulge in his pants, then he was failing miserably.
"Doesn't look that hard. I can ride that pole and earn a few coins myself!" Kung Lao joked, leaning back in his seat with a large smile. "Look at Tomas' face. He is so in love!"
"I am not!"
"Could've fooled me," Cage butted in, "Seriously, Fog Machine, any longer and you'll be on one knee. We just got in. We still have plenty more to watch!"
This was going great; everyone seemed to be having a good time. Cage called over a waitress and ordered shots for the group. With enough liquor flowing, the guys might start being more honest and really enjoy themselves. It'd be interesting to know their true thoughts on things; it would help with the boredom.
These people weren't Cage's type of friends he'd prefer to hang out with. For Christ's sake, he told them the dress code and they still came in wearing their regular fighting gear- as if a barrage of monsters was gonna strike a titty bar again.
They needed to lighten up, and that's why Cage invited them. It had been almost a year since the battle of Armageddon, and everyone was still on edge about it. That tight-ass Grandmaster had gotten into their heads about preparing for future battles and it was just getting old. They needed to learn how to destress, how to enjoy life without being hung up over little shit. Yeah, it's possible there can be bad things on the horizon. But the blond didn't let that get in the way of celebrating his youth. He didn't know when he'd die, so his motto was to party like it was his last day on Earth.
Actually it's "Anything is a dildo with enough courage," but that's beside the point.
"Too spicy for you, Tomas?" Cage checked on his silver-haired guest, who was sipping delicately at his first shot while the others had downed three in a row. At least he was trying to drink, unlike some people who were sulking in their seat and seconds away from getting their ass handed to him if he didn't buck up.
Syzoth had been mute since he entered the strip club, and fiddling his fingers was the only signal that he was still breathing. His green eyes, normally so bright, were blankly staring at the stage. Cage wanted to barf.
Nudging the Zaterran's arm, he yelled, "You better not be thinking of her up there! She wouldn't strip for you if you were the last doctor on Earth." Syzoth didn't respond. "Seriously, it's been three weeks already. By now she's probably off sucking some other cold-blooded cock-" Cage flinched at the speed Syzoth took off when he jumped out of his seat and stood in front of him, his face pink with rage.
"Do NOT speak of her that way!"
"Finally, a reaction!" Cage grinned, "I almost thought that I was in another remake for 'Weekend at Bernie's'." The shapeshifting kombatant didn't humor the man; he stormed away from the booth in a huff.
"What did you do this time?" Kung Lao shook his head.
Cage got up and wiped his pants, took a deep breath, and planned to track down the heated amphibian, "Nothing that would shock you. You guys wait up." In his newly bought dress shoes, Cage hurried after Syzoth. The remaining kombatants sat awkwardly in their seats.
Tomas finished his first shot and asked, "What is 'Weekend at Bernie's'"?
If Syzoth really wanted to leave, he could've exited from the front door, but he hid inside the men's restroom instead, and Cage caught him leaning over the sink counter. His face was wet after he splashed cold water on it, but his cheeks still burned pink.
"Need a moment?"
"Even if I did, you wouldn't allow it. Why else would you follow me?"
"Just making sure my new friend didn't off himself in the toilet," the blond noticed a pair of feet lurking under a bathroom stall, and said, "Wrap it up, buddy. I got some business to take care of!" Nobody could argue against an A-List celebrity, so the stranger flushed and sped out the room.
The famous man strutted over to his guest and stood beside him, looking at his own chiseled appearance in the mirror. Syzoth on the other hand was avoiding his own reflection, which puzzled Cage. The Zaterran was handsome in his human form. He could make a living being a model of one of those teen clothing stores where they never wear shirts. It would show off his tattoos that were so expertly done down his body. If he'd wipe off that sorry look, the ladies would swoon over him. Syzoth had no clue how many people would kill for an opportunity to ride his face.
"What is the business you wish to have with me?" Syzoth faced Cage, who had looked lost in thought. "Oh!" the man's blush faded away, "Well, dude...you and Ashrah haven't been a thing for a while now. We were all hoping this trip would cheer you up. Get you laid; I don't know."
"So, everyone thought I'd enjoy looking at women?"
Cage shifted his eyes in confusion, "I mean...yeah?"
The kombatant chuckled, "That's what I thought too..." It was then that he looked at his reflection, deep frown and all. This was the saddest video Cage ever saw; and he grew up on Sarah MacLachlan commercials.
