Another few mere steps into the fray of combat and Kung Lao was knocked helpless. That annoying little witch who shapeshifted into a giant dragon took long enough to drown out a fight that should have happened forever ago. While he wasn’t proud of taking such a hit with the spike of her tail, the Shaolin fighter was still trying to figure out what had gone on.
Blurry faces, blood, transportation and a lot of blacking out. He had not died again. Not yet.
When his will was strong enough he tried to open his eyes. But his body was aching, and he didn’t want to interfere. So he let his spiritual mind lift to view himself laying in the hospital bed, hooked to multiple machines that were beeping, gauze, blood, stitching. Modern medicine, things he wasn’t a fool to but also did not understand. ”What are these machines?” he hissed in Chinese, moving to stand beside his own body, trying to listen or look at the charts that were all in English--his second language, but in their medicine.
What were they putting in his body? At least his bloodied hat was still there alongside his bed. Letting himself feel frustration only one moment longer, Kung Lao made peace with the failure, freed his mind to let his body heal, and move about the floor where there were others who were injured, trying to see if he could understand better.
It was late - and Dr. Strange was working a long shift. Doing general practitioner and medical consulting work meant that the bulk of his appointments were at the Outlander clinic, but the rest of them were scattered - in hospitals, mainly, and other pharmacies; the use of his hands was long gone but his brain still worked just fine and the knowledge was retained. And when there was a neurology challenge, a puzzle to be spliced together, that’s where he was - offering his expertise, even if he couldn’t offer his surgical skills.
He had a break in between appointments and so he took a moment to rest his physical body in one of the spare rooms, on a cot, while his mind kept going - projecting to the astral dimension was one of those things that was difficult to describe to someone who had never done it before, but for him, it was like electricity. Vibrations, a humming, like every energy point within him had reached perfect synchronization - at first there’d been buzzing, standing next to a jet plane, but now it was more like a sensation of simply floating. He was able to move and engage his mind even while his body rested, which he’d been trying to be better about it while he was in the Sanctum (setting a good example and all) - but here, he felt the need to wander. To keep the mind sharp.
So imagine his surprise when he came along someone else on the astral plane - he recognized the man, despite how beaten up and bloodied he’d been when he was brought to the hospital during the fight with Maleficent. It was a shame - so many injuries, and likely the cycle would just repeat. Not with Maleficent necessarily, but something else. Always, it was something else.
“I’d be bored too,” he spoke up; he was always amazed how time slowed to an ethereal crawl on this plane. “Just lying in bed. But you’re improving - feeling well enough to project? That’s a good sign.”
If Stephen had been surprised to find another on the Astral Plane here, the same could be said for Kung Lao, but the Monk knew by now from his own realm and this one that nothing was ever out of the question. He had stiffened only slightly, ready to protect his body from a wayward spirit if need be but relaxed soon once he saw the Doctor, was it?
“Strange, was it? Doctor?” He was one of the magic wielders but the symbols and clothing of a Tibetan sorcerer. Yet also an American doctor with practice in the mystic arts. And interesting story to be sure.
“This is all foreign to me,” he said simply, eyes blinking from Stephen and hand motioning to the machines and the wires, folding his arms against his chest. He got the feeling Stephen had been around long enough to make his comment so he turned to face him, asking. “Have I been down that long?” Lao shook his head in annoyance.
The body was so fragile. No matter how much he trained. He would have to do better to tune his arcana to this realm and it’s fighters.
“Been down awhile, yes,” Stephen confirmed. The fellow barely had a pulse when he was stabilized in the middle of the forest and then portaled right to the hospital, no stop in the clinic along the way - that was when you knew it was dire. “That tail did a number. Crushed bones on your right side, internal bleeding, lacerations - you’ll heal, it will just take some time,” he assured.
Maybe it would help if he explained some of it - an informed patient was a happy patient. Or at the very least, it would be one less thing to have cognitive dissonance about. “When there’s internal bleeding, the excess blood puts pressure on the organs,” he said. “The surgeon needed to make an incision along your ribcage to identify where there was bleeding, stop it, and thus protect your heart and lungs. Fluids and blood transfusions during and after that help with preventing a drop in blood pressure.”
The broken bones were probably pretty self-explanatory - he was sporting a few casts in bed. “But, right - I’m Doctor Stephen Strange. I do Neurology consulting work at the hospital here. There were plenty of injuries after that Maleficent debacle. It took a whole team to bring her down though.” And then someone had just so happened to get the kill shot - in a particularly graphic, violent way, but. It is what it is.
Kung Lao followed the trail of information of Stephen’s words down his body and the condition it was in. He seemed impressed at the mention of slicing him open, the internal bleeding, etc. “Internal bleeding is usually something you don’t wake up from,” not where he was from anyway. “Hopefully I can wake soon, and thank those I’ve inconvenienced.” Finally the monk turned around to face Stephen’s astral self head on. He regarded him only a moment before covering his fist over his chest to give a small bow of respect. For thanks on the explanation, and a more formal greeting.
“I’m Kung Lao. Pleased to hear our allies finished the monster all the same.” He studied Stephen further, his eyes seemingly judging but he didn’t quite have a different face between that and amusement. “Forgive me if I overstep, but what is a doctor doing with sorcery? They say healers have an unprecedented stamina for their work, more so than fighters, but i see your magic is not for healing.”
Strange was making ample use of his mind while his body rested and for that, Kung Lao could respect.
Kung Lao reminded Stephen of his cohorts at Kamar-Taj - perhaps Hamir specifically, just with how formidable he was; he’d been able to create portals using the sling ring even while missing one hand. “Nice to meet you,” he returned the bow, a small gesture, but it was how the students at the training grounds conveyed respect and greetings as well - he remembered it out there, the sights and sounds and the wandering through the cloisters and thwack of staves as they echoed in the courtyard.
So yes. A far cry from medicine - he understood the need for questions. And curiosity.
“No, my magic is not really for healing. It’s light-based, called Eldritch magic - mostly focuses on creating constructs, wards, enchantments. Illusions and portals.” Other applications as well, but he didn’t need to list them all - point was, healing didn’t happen to be a focus. “I used to be a surgeon but I was once where you were,” he nodded toward Kung Lao’s bed-ridden form, “...nearly dead after an accident. I lost the use of my hands to perform surgery. And somehow found magic, and found new purpose. Are you - a sorcerer?” he asked. He wasn’t sure what to call it, but figured he could learn.
Very intriguing, it was a shame there hadn’t been an order like this back on his own Earthrealm. Or perhaps there was, and they just had not found it. Liu Kang was said to find and align the new warriors of the Earthrealm. It was a lot to put on the young monk’s shoulders but he’d been given the name of his great predecessor as well. Neither of them had an easy beginning.
“So you found another use for your hands.” Lao watched as a nurse came to check over his body, monitoring whatever it was she was keeping track of the machines. His eyes fell to his own hands, well, their projection, and he opened and closed them slowly. To not be able to use his means of fighting….that would truly be a shame.
Kung Lao laughed at the idea that he was a sorcerer, shaking his head slowly, resting his chin in his hand. “Not quite. I’m a Shaolin Monk of Wu Shi academy, fighters in the order of light. Specifically trained for Kombat to defend Earthrealm.”
Definitely not to be confused with the other Buddhist monks. Hence his head of hair, and less than humble or reserved composure.
“As a chosen fighter for Earthrealm,” his spiritual visage pulled aside the neck black tunic to reveal the red mark sitting on his shoulder. Yes, it was supposed to be a dragon. “I do possess a special arcana, similar to your magic, but I am no master of magic. Just Shaolin.” Defeated twice, body beaten to death, and Kung Lao was still just as proud to spout the confidence of who and what he was.
They had that in common, then. “Defending Earth is no small feat,” Stephen said - and he, in turn, could respect anyone who had been put into that role. For one reason or another. It wasn’t easy. “Everything’s so different here - it must be hard to get used to. I know it has been for me, to some degree.”
Considering there were seventy billion magic users - oh, sure, back in his world there were the other Masters of the Mystic Arts. The students, the trainees in their white robes (which marked their rank; different colored robes were earned as students advanced, as they completed their coursework and demonstrated their command of specific spells, enchantments, and incantations - in addition to skills in martial arts) as they began to embark on a journey to open their minds. But here it was just so saturated - he had to boggle sometimes, at the way this world kept pulling in other types of magic to make a stew that had all different kinds of ingredients to toss into the pot.
His spirit form was hazy, unseen to the nurse that puttered about. “But it’s still a world that needs protecting.”
Saturated would be the word that Lao would agree upon. Earth itself was a large enough world, but back at home his path was simple. He knew who he was, what he was to do, and where to put his focus--a line so easy to walk, the best trained dog could do it. And here...who were these people that he had already almost died for?
Not that it mattered, Kung Lao followed the White Lotus who protected the Earthrealm from any threats, native and none. There were people here from Earth, even if not his, and that was enough.
“They certainly don’t train you on how to adapt to stepping outside the temple or the training grounds,” Kung Lao agreed with Strange, musing with a soft sigh and folding his arms once more. Vallo had people, technologies, creatures and culture to which he would have to know and understand.
Without proper understanding he obviously was not fit to protect or live beside them. His spirit focused and looked back to Strange. “I would be open to suggestions on where to start learning. Or what. The network’s people and DOA have a very...scattered sense of personality.”
Stephen sympathized - knowing where to start when basically nothing made sense? Not as easy as one might think. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack, or the one answer that would lead to other answers - it didn’t seem to go in any kind of order. Instead, it was more like you just kept trucking on and then, one day, the pieces vaguely fit together - or you learned to roll with the punches rather than learned anything specific about day-to-day life.
“Well,” he mused, stroking his chin. “I live in a place called Sanctum Sanctorum - it’s from my home, there are other buildings of its kind in London and Hong Kong. But I have a library that is pretty extensive - I have mostly spell books, and others pertaining to artifacts from my world but I’ve also collected some books about Vallo as it is currently and its history.” He’d been interested ever since he arrived here but it was that jaunt into ancient Vallo that really sealed the deal for him - his work at the Great Library, translating texts from ancient Sanskrit, also contributed to his thirst for knowledge.
Plus it was just a quiet place to work and he liked that. His misophonia (he had something of a severe case, unfortunately) acted up otherwise. “If your astral form is feeling up to it tomorrow, come by. You can study while your physical body rests, if you want.”
More protectors of the realm, yet for another sort of attack. Did the Earth Dwellers really knew who all gave their lives to protect them from so many threats? Kung Lao wouldn’t go down that slippery slope. He still had to figure out “texting” and modern technology infused with magic.
It was a very generous offer. One that made his brows raise, though ever on the err of caution, the monk looked back to his body and once more to the sorcerer. “I am grateful for the offer, but are you confident I could travel so far from my body without risk?” He hadn’t been in Vallo long. Strange was the first he knew to have knowledge of the astral plane, but it was there all the same.
Obviously leaving one’s body open to another spirit or soul was right there on the first things to learn not to do. Not that Kung Lao was against bending rules when they were needed. He’d only just failed his first fight for the realm and wasn’t looking to lose his body so soon.
“Everyone’s different, but I used to travel pretty far - all over New York City, when I went to the astral dimension,” Stephen replied. It was true - sometimes he just wanted to flee, to run from walls that felt closed in and step into a place where time moved at an odd pace, unable to be comprehended, and the colors ran like a watercolor painting - the way they didn’t run in the physical realm.
Then there was that night the Ancient One died, watching the snow fall. It was a soft scene, the snowflakes looked like the kiss of winter - he didn’t blame her for wanting to see it all for just a moment or two longer.
“I think you’d be fine to travel. I haven’t seen anything on the astral plane that poses a threat, not lately. But if you’d rather me meet you back here, until you feel stronger - I can do that. Bring a book or two.” He really didn’t mind - being laid up in bed was no picnic, and this way Kung Lao didn’t have to let his mind become stagnant while he healed. He could stay sharp. Be ready for whatever came their way next.
“You’re very kind, but I won’t inconvenience you further. If you say this plane is safe for traveling I trust your word.” A fickle thing, trust. But Lao would have to start making allies. He was without his order, the other champions of Earth, or his cousin. It was the first time he felt a hint of sadness in his gut. An empty, solemn feeling that he was sure Liu Kang probably felt when Shang Tsung sucked away his soul.
They had trained together, fought together, and had the mind to die together. But you could not plan for such things. Or to come to this place.
Lao wouldn’t let himself settle in the emotions or feelings too much. There were more productive ways for his time. “I look forward to learning more of your ways and these cultures. Thank you.” For now there was not much he could lend Stephen in return, but the kindness would not be forgotten and Kung Lao was not incapable. Once his body had healed. “If there is anything I can ever do for you in return I will. Once I am not connected to so many robotic machines.”
Stephen would say that Kung Lao didn’t owe him anything, but he understood the need for reciprocation - to feel as if you were returning kindness, paying it forward, that sort of thing. “Of course,” he nodded. “I’ll look forward to your visit.”
He didn’t have many others reaching him on the astral plane, after all. It was relatively quiet, which was why he liked it - sometimes he and Wanda would intersect (she too rested physically while her mind did other things, though they were both attempting to not overdo it in that regard) but he was actually eager to meet a new astral dimension companion. Better than running into anyone from Vorerra, anyway.