``Will you look at that crowd?'' Ramirez breathed, as Stryker pulled towards the Barrentine Hotel. Stryker couldn't blame him for being surprised; their car was in a line of limos, and ahead he could see the valets helping men and women in formalwear out of their cars. Security lines held back people cheering and watching for their favorite celebrities, cameras flashing as they did.

Stryker chuckled to himself. The unmarked police car he and Ramirez were in stood out like a sore thumb compared to the limos. The only way he had gotten into the line was because the officers directing traffic had recognized them and let them in. He was thankful for that; he didn't want to try and have to push through the crowds to get to the entrances any other way.

He pulled the car into the hotel driveway, in front of the lobby entrance. As he stepped out, he noticed the valets looking a bit confused, not knowing what to make of the black Crown Vic they had pulled up in, nor the fact that neither Stryker nor Ramirez were in formal dress. Stryker grinned, and tossed the keys to the nearest valet. ``We won't be long,'' he said, as he joined Ramirez on the carpet.

As they walked up the carpet to the hotel entrance, Ramirez muttered, ``Not exactly dressed for this.''

Stryker looked at him. Ramirez was wearing a grey suit with white shirt and black tie. By contrast, Stryker was wearing his blue tshirt, cargo pants, combat boots, and black cap worn backwards. Both men had their badges clipped to their belts.

``You look better than me,'' Stryker replied. ``Besides, this isn't a social event for us.''

They stepped through the lobby doors, and strode through the lobby following the line of men and women attending the event. Ahead of them, they saw the entrance to a ballroom, where a burly man in a tuxedo was checking names against a list. At least the line's moving quickly, Stryker thought.

After a couple of minutes of waiting, they stepped up in front of the man before the door. The man looked up from his list, and raised an eyebrow. Probably because we're not in tuxes, Stryker mused. The man's expression became amused, and he asked, ``Names?''

``Eduardo Ramirez and Kurtis Stryker,'' Ramirez replied smoothly. ``We need to speak to Johnny Cage.''

The man snorted. ``Your names aren't on the list. Sure you have an invite?''

Ramirez scowled. He reached down, and pulled the shield from his belt, holding it up front of the man. ``Yeah. Right here.''

The man was unfazed. ``You could be the chief of police for all I care. You're not on the invite list, so you're not going in.''

Stryker looked at Ramirez. For his part, Ramirez looked back at Stryker, with an expression that said, He's all yours. Ramirez was an large man and knew it, but he also knew Stryker was the more intimidating and combat-proficient of the two.

Stryker growled, and stepped close to the man. ``Listen, buddy, we're not some star-struck fans. We're here on official police business. So, either stand aside, go send someone to tell Cage Stryker needs to talk to him, or try and get in my way. If you want to get in my way, that's fine by me. You can sit down and bleed all over yourself while my friend here arrests you for interfering in police business.''

The man stared at Stryker menacingly. Stryker met his gaze unflinchingly.

``Hey, what's going on here?'' a voice said from next to them. Stryker turned, and saw a short, thin man in a black suit approaching from another ballroom entrance. From his demeanor, Stryker guessed that he was a manager.

Ramirez turned to the manager, and held up his badge. ``I'm Detective Ramirez, mister...?''

``Steve Johansen,'' the manager replied. ``I'm with Matrix Events. We're the hosts for this event. Is there a problem?''

``No problem, Mr. Johansen,'' Ramirez said. ``Officer Stryker and I just need a few minutes of Johnny Cage's time. It's involving a current case.''

``Oh, dear,'' Johansen said nervously. He looked around, and stepped closer. In a softer voice, he asked, ``Mr. Cage isn't in any trouble, is he?''

``None at all,'' Ramirez smiled. ``Officer Stryker and he are acquaintances, and Stryker feels he might have some information that may help us.''

Johansen nodded. ``I'll bring him right out. Always happy to help the police.'' He smiled to Ramirez, and walked past them into the ballroom.

Stryker stepped back, and turned away from the security guard. ``That was fortunate,'' he muttered. ``I wasn't looking forward to causing a real scene.''

``Yeah,'' Ramirez said softly.

A couple of minutes later, Stryker noticed the guests in line were pointing past him, whispering to themselves. An instant later, Stryker heard a familiar voice say, ``Hey Stryker! How's it going?'' Stryker turned, to see Johansen standing next to a tall, well built man, wearing a black tux, white wing collared shirt, black bow tie, and dark expensive sunglasses. The man was smiling widely.

``Hey Johnny,'' Stryker said. He stepped forward and shook Johnny's outstretched hand. He then indicated next to him. ``Johnny, this is Ed Ramirez, with homicide. We'd like to talk to you, if we could.''

Ramirez stepped forward, and Johnny shook his hand too. Smiling, Johnny said, ``What's up? Got a case you think would be a good movie for me?''

Stryker shook his head. ``Nothing like that.'' He looked around. ``Mind if we talk privately?''

``Sure,'' Johnny answered. He turned to Johansen, who nodded, and moved away. Johnny followed him, with Stryker and Ramirez bringing up the rear. They turned a corner, and came to the business office, which Johansen opened with a keycard. The three others walked in, and Johansen closed the door behind them.

Stryker looked around; other than the three of them, the business office was deserted. Johnny leaned up against the wall, grinned, and asked, ``So, what's up?''

``You heard of the Dracula Killer case?'' Ramirez asked.

``Well, yeah,'' Johnny replied. ``Heard my agent talking about it to one of my friends. She wanted to option a movie out of the story. You think I know someone involved?''

``Well, we know who the killers are,'' Ramirez said. ``It's just that they're, well...''

Ramirez clearly looked uncomfortable, so Stryker decided to get right to the point. ``Listen, Johnny,'' he said, ``we need your help. We need to talk to Raiden.''

``Raiden?'' Johnny's smile vanished. ``What? Why him?''

Stryker sat down on the edge of a computer desk. ``The killers aren't human. I killed one as he was escaping through a portal. Problem is, the feds don't believe me and I can't reach Sonya or Jax. Raiden's my best bet for proving it.''

``Oh,'' Johnny said. He took a deep breath. ``Well... you weren't involved with the Shinnok thing, so I guess you wouldn't know...''

``Know what?'' Stryker asked. He didn't like this one bit.

``Well... Raiden's not the protector of Earthrealm anymore,'' Johnny said. ``After the business with Shinnok, the Elder Gods made him one of them. The guy who took his place is named Fujin. God of wind, or something like that.''

``Okay, so, because he's an... `elder god'... he can't help us?'' Stryker asked.

``Dunno,'' Johnny replied. ``I didn't quite get what they are, except for some non-interference thing and policing the realms. Fujin's the main man, now.''

``Great,'' Stryker grumbled. He looked over at Ramirez, who was watching them with a lost look. Stryker didn't blame him. ``Any idea how we can contact him?''

``Nope,'' Johnny shrugged. ``Hell, I never contacted Raiden. He always came to me. Maybe try a prayer or something?''

Stryker shook his head. ``Damn,'' he said. ``Ah, well. I won't keep you, Johnny. Thanks for the info.''

``No problem,'' Johnny grinned. He shook Stryker's and Ramirez's hands, and stepped towards the door. ``Let me know if you come across any cases that might make a good film.''

Johnny opened the door, and stepped out. As he did, Ramirez turned to Stryker. ``So, no good? What do we do now?''

``I'll think of something,'' Stryker replied. I'd better, he thought to himself.

As he stood up and strode to the door, Ramirez quipped, ``By the way, does he ever take those sunglasses off?''

``Nope,'' Stryker replied sourly.

*

``You have got to be kidding me,'' Ramirez commented as they walked up the steps to the Shinto shrine.

``Nope,'' Stryker replied. At this time of the evening, the shrine was fairly empty, so they passed no one as they reached the main hall's entrance. He had known there was a Shinto shrine in the city, but had never thought about using it until that night. He opened the door, and entered, with Ramirez close behind. He took in the surroundings, noting a couple of elderly Japanese turning and staring at them. He smiled, nodded to them, and looked around.

``So, what are we doing here?'' Ramirez whispered, coming to a stop next to Stryker.

``Johnny gave me an idea,'' Stryker whispered back. His eyes came to rest on a gong and offering box. He stepped up to the gong, and thought to himself, I hope I get this right. Oh, well, here goes nothing...

He took hold of the small mallet by the gong, and struck it against the gong softly. He then placed the mallet down, and stepped over to the offering box. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a quarter, and tossed it in. He then bowed deeply to the box twice, clapped his hands twice, and then bowed again. He held the bow, and prayed silently.

Fujin, if you're listening, I need to speak with you.

He then stood up, and turned back to Ramirez, who was watching with a grin on his face. ``What was that?'' he asked amusedly.

Stryker walked past him to the door, and Ramirez turned to walk beside him. ``That's why I did that internet search at your desk before we left,'' he replied. ``It's a traditional prayer to the gods. You have a better idea?''

``I guess not,'' Ramirez conceded as they exited the main hall. ``So what now?''

``No idea,'' Stryker said, as they walked down the steps. ``I guess go back to the station and go back to what we were doing.''

``I guess,'' Ramirez said. They crossed the yard, heading to the car. ``Hate to think we did all that for nothing.'' He chuckled. ``Drive's going to be fun, with this storm coming in.''

``Storm?'' Stryker said, stopping. ``The weather report said it'd be clear tonight.'' He looked around; the skies were clear, though the breeze that had greeted them when they walked out of the shrine was getting stronger.

``Well, where do you think this wind is coming from?'' Ramirez asked. As he spoke, the air began buffeting them. Ramirez put his hand against the car to steady himself.

``Wind...'' Stryker looked around. He realized what was going on. ``Hey there!'' he shouted into the gale, as he braced himself against the strong winds.

Suddenly, the forces against them eased off. As they watched, the strong winds focused themselves into a small cyclone in front of them, and then began to shrink and take a human form. Less than a few seconds later, they coalesced into a man standing before them. He towered above them, slender and muscular. He was shirtless, and wore teal pants. His hair was long and white, tied in a ponytail. Stryker was drawn to his eyes; like Raiden's, the man's eyes were pure white.

``Fujin?'' Stryker asked.

``Yes, Kurtis Stryker,'' the man responded tonelessly. ``For what reason have you asked to speak with me?''

By this time, Ramirez had regained his composure. Stryker felt a tang of sympathy for him; men appearing out of nowhere would of course be new to him. ``Well, thanks for coming,'' Ramirez said. ``Never heard of prayer actually being heard by someone before now.''

Fujin turned to Ramirez, and narrowed his eyes. ``Kurtis Stryker is one of Earthrealm's chosen warriors, Eduardo Ramirez. As such, he has special preference amongst us.'' Fujin then turned back to Stryker. ``What is it you need?''

Stryker nodded. ``We need your help. There are murders being committed here by beings that aren't human. We know they're invading from another realm, but the military won't believe us. Can you help us track them down and stop them?''

Fujin regarded Stryker with an utter lack of expression. Hell of a poker face, Stryker thought.

``I am afraid you are mistaken, Stryker,'' Fujin finally said. ``There have been no incursions to Earthrealm that I have been aware of. If there had been portals, I would know about it.''

``What?'' Stryker said in disbelief. ``I saw a portal with my own eyes!''

Fujin shook his head. ``You are mistaken. If it had been a portal, I would have sensed it. I am sorry, but I cannot help you.''

Ramirez swore softly. Stryker sighed, and finally nodded. ``All right, then,'' he said. ``Thank you for your time.'' He bowed, and turned back to Ramirez.

Ramirez placed a hand on Stryker's shoulder. ``It was worth a try, Kurtis.''

``I know,'' Stryker said. He was disappointed; he was sure he was right about the portals. Maybe I did misjudge the spell... He shook his head, and walked to the car's driver's door. ``Well, let's go see if we can find where the vampires are hiding, then...''

``Wait,'' Fujin said. Stryker and Ramirez turned back to him; Stryker had expected him to have disappeared by then. Fujin walked up to Stryker, and stood in front of him. ``Did you say `vampires'?''

``Yeah,'' Stryker said. He met the god's gaze.

``That is not possible,'' Fujin stated. ``There are no vampires in Earthrealm.''

Ramirez spoke up. ``He's telling the truth. Stryker killed one of them a few days ago.''

Fujin turned to Ramirez. ``Describe this vampire.''

Stryker blinked. ``He was tall, dark haired, and looked human, other than the fangs and the large bat-like wings.''

Fujin turned back to Stryker, and stared at him. Stryker cursed his inability to read the god's expression. Finally, he said, ``I believe you, Stryker, but this means we have a much bigger problem. I must consult with the others. Where is this vampire's body?''

``City morgue,'' Stryker answered.

Fujin nodded. ``Go there, then. I will meet you there as soon as I can.'' He bowed, stepped back, and suddenly discorporated in a blast of air.

Stryker turned to Ramirez, and grinned. ``Think it was a waste of time now?''

Ramirez stared at where Fujin had been, and whistled softly. ``No way. At least you got us a better lead than any of the stakeouts had. Let's not keep your friend waiting.''

Author : Scott Bishop

Creation date: 2011-5-27-9-55

Modification date: 2011-5-27-9-57