Lone Tark Prologue

Prolouge

The ritual of blood for tarkatans is a coming of age ceremony for the young. More like a rite of passage considering what takes place. Prepubescent Tarkatans having to fight each other to prove they have what it takes to be a true tarkata. The elders choosing who will fight who. It all seems normal until the reality of the situation sets in the young tarkatans soul. This was their first real fight, no more sparring, no more muzzles and arm guards. This was going to be a true fight, a fight to the death.

True to its name being the Blood ritual, you have to cover your chest in the blood of your dead opponent. It was barbaric and brutal, having the young fight to the death was sick. This is Outworld and the rules, morals were different here. You have to fight to survive in Outworld, and the Tarkata made sure the next generation were prepared for the life ahead. Tarkatans were bred to fight, bred to become warriors.

This time the ritual was taking place in the cellar of Shao Khan palace. A small circle pit with steel gates to keep anyone from interfering. Sometimes the Emperor himself would be a spectator, taking delight in seeing the young tarkata tear at each other like blood thirsty beasts. This time, he wasn't here and the commander Baraka was slightly grateful for that. Not that he would really care about the emperor being there. He just wanted to really focus on the young, his offspring. His own flesh and blood were going through the ritual this time around. A total of 12 young tarks ranging from age 13 to 15 were participating. 3 of them were Baraka very own, each had a different mother. One who was birthed by the emperor own daughter Mileena.

A fourteen year old Millikan stood with four other tarks his age, awaiting their turn to participate in the ritual. Two of the tarks were his half-brothers Timan and Abasi. Both of them were older then Millikan by a few months. Though age did not matter when it came to fighting, it was all about skill and heart. Watching the two other tarks fighting right now, Millikan could already see how it was going to end. Two open swipes and a duck followed by a stab to the abdomen. The defeated sound of the tark taking his dying breath as he was kicked off his opponent's arm-blade.

"You scared?" Abasi, the oldest of Baraka sons nudged Millikan shoulder with a chuckle. The younger tark just looked over at his brother, he didn't find anything amusing about this at all. Besides he just watched one his good friends get killed right in front of him. He couldn't deny the fact that he was scared, who wouldn't be scared. He barely just started in life and now he was about to be thrown into a pit with another tark, possibly his own brother to fight for his life. Fight for your right as a true tarkatan warrior. And watching the victor dig into the open wound of the his friend and smear his blood over his chest before standing tall and raising his arms high as the crowd of older tarkata crowded around them roared in victory. "You are scared."

"Silence Abasi, save the chat after your fight." The loud commanding voice of Baraka made them all jump. They didn't bother looking behind them, knowing their father was standing over them. "Millikan you are next." He patted his shoulder as a bit of encouragement and shoved him forward. Millikan took a deep breath before stepping into the pit circle. Watching one of the old tarks drag off the dead one, leaving behind a trail of blood.

Just breath, relax. Focus…Focus

He looked around the crowd before looking at the other young tarks, wondering which one will be his opponent. Hoping it wouldn't be one of his brothers because that would just be…sad really. No matter how many times his father had told him how he had killed his own brother in the ritual.

"Timan." Baraka nodded. Millikan felt his heart clench at the thought of having to kill his sibling. Why did it have to be Timan, why couldn't it be one of the other two? So many whys where running through his mind as he stared at his brother who stepped into the pit with him. They faced each other now, both of them with somewhat worried expressions on their face. They looked like mirror images standing across from each other. Wearing the standard grey training tunic and pants. The only difference being Millikan had a bit of scruffy hair growing on the right side of his head. Something Baraka had told him to shave off on the regular basis.

"Leave behind everything you know, put aside your feelings and say your farewells." Those were Baraka words to his youngest sons as he gave the order for them to shut the gate. Both of them looked towards the gate as it closed…that's it.

"Do we really have to kill each other?" Millikan looked at Timan who was already taking his fighting stance, arm-blades already extended. Of course, Timan was always ready for a fight. Just like Baraka in a way when it came to kombat, this was no time for words.

"Your blades Mill, I won't attack you without them" Timan stated. Millikan balled his fist, his arm-blades unsheathed at full length. He crossed both arms over his chest and bowed, Timan doing the same. Millikan lost a brother that day and that was only the beginning.

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