Serving Shao Kahn. That was all she ever knew. Go where he says, kill whom he says, and then slip back into the shadows until needed again. Skarlet's mind belonged to Shao Kahn; she only knew killing, spying, and absorbing blood in service to him, the true emperor. But what happens a lowly Shaolin Monk takes pity on her and helps her see the light...and give her a conscience all her own. Skarlet is now free of Shao Kahn's grasp and must learn everything she never knew, including speaking. But what happens when Shao Kahn learns Skarlet has been given her own way of thinking? Skarlet/OC. Rated M for future Blood, Violence, Sexual Themes, and Language.

Chapter one

Well this is just great, he thought angrily, dipping the garb into the water again. All I said was that we need to be standing better watch in these uncertain times, and look what I get for trying to offer sensible advice. The sun was beating down on him like a drum, and the invading insects didn't seem overly merciful to him either. He was miserable as miserable could get, but he tried to remain positive. He decided to accept he was the only one around the establishment with brains.

When from nowhere, he started to feel it: a chill in the air. He released the garment as it sank into the sudsy water, and looked around. Although there was nothing to confirm his theory, he felt like there was a bad moon on the rise.

"This is it," he exclaimed, as if there was another pair of ears around, "I know this chill. It was the very chill I felt when…" He couldn't. The memories were still fresh, and already his heart was in his throat. His instincts began buzzing louder than the flies. His Shaolin Senses were telling him to abandon his chore and investigate.

"Call me crazy," he said to himself, "but something doesn't feel right." Suddenly, his promotions and paranoia were confirmed by a pain stricken yell.

"I knew it!" He cried, and began to sprint as silently as he could. It was one of the training exercises he excelled at, as opposed to many others that resulted in failure. When he arrived, there was no mistaking it. It was him! He could see a man and a monster, both of whom he was familiar with. The man lay on the grass, his hands covering a gruesome and particularly gnarly wound. His hair was black, and the man wore his signature hat. Kung Lao was in pain, having been ambushed by this beast. The monk behind the monster balled his fists in rage.

Suddenly, Baraka's nostrils came to life, sniffing the air around him. He whipped around to see the enraged, bald man.

"You!" He cried, "I know your stench anywhere. Your wife…her blood was delicious." He could hold it no more. His wife's death was to be avenged now. He ran forward, as time seemed to slow down. The beast known as Baraka swung at him, but he ducked under the blades and punched Baraka hard in the knee. Baraka yelped in pain and recoiled, which gave the monk a chance to launch forward and kick the tarkatan in the throat. The beast roared with fury and kicked at him a few times, all of which connected. The Monk's rage resisted the pain. He again charged and this time punched the beast hard in the ribs. There was a cracking sound, and Baraka roared again, bending down.

The Monk saw his arm was hanging like a wet noodle and his blades were still out. The Monk saw his chance, sprinting and delivering a high rising kick. The arm that had taken the kick flew up, and before Baraka knew what was happening, the blade sliced through his flesh and muscle like a hot knife through butter. Baraka's screams of pain were loud and piercing, as a huge gash was opened in his throat. The Monk decided to finish the fight. He ran towards Baraka and delivered another rising kick. His aim was perfect, as the kick got under Baraka's gash and was so powerful, that his head came free of his body. It flew over Kung Lao and landed on the ground, a puddle of crimson life matter forming beneath it.

The monk had finally done it. It had only been a few weeks since that horrible night, but they may as well have been years. The Monk then focused on Kung Lao, helping him to his feet. Before the pair could start going back to the academy for treatment, they noticed a small crowd had gathered. They stared, some at the Monk, and some at the headless body of Baraka. And then, there was a crack like a giant's whip, and a flash as bright as the sun. When it cleared, there stood Raiden, the thunder god.

"You do not know," he said, "the service you have done to Earthrealm. Baraka was a fierce monster, one of Shao Kahn's most trusted, and you have laid a critical blow to Shao Kahn's plans for the domination of Earthrealm." Our monk knew he should feel happy, noting sight of the Monks, and even Raiden himself, bowing to him. But he could not believe it. Though he had avenged his wife's murder, that didn't change the fact he had ended a life, even though it was the life of a monster.

"Forgive me, Lord Raiden." Said the Monk, "but I must meditate to purge my soul."

"You may do so," said Raiden. While our monk left to meditate, other of his Shaolin brethren tended to the wounded Kung Lao.

Meanwhile…

Quan Chi walked into Shao Kahn's throne room. Kahn looked at the sorcerer before saying, "State your business."

"My lord," said Quan Chi, kneeling, "Baraka was killed this morning by a lowly Shaolin Monk." Two Tarkatan warriors brought in the corpse of their leader, one carried his body, the other, his head. Rage filled Shao Kahn, as he loudly yelled,

"SKARLET!" For a few seconds, there was nothing, and suddenly, a puddle of blood appeared on the floor. Within seconds after its appearance, Skarlet stood there.

"Baraka was killed by a Shaolin Monk," said her emperor, "Find and slay him."

"Er, if I may," said one of the Tarkatans, "the monk in question has gone to a large tree to meditate." With this information in mind, Skarlet left the room.

When she reappeared, she was in Earthrealm, and there was her target. Skarlet drew her dagger and charged.