Note: this will be an AU story that takes inspiration from both the current timeline and the old, from the films, TV-series, comics, pretty much all MK related media, and essentially "mix" the universes. More info at the end.

Chapter 1

If Only You Knew, or

The Savior And The Insufficient

Inside his aesthetically designed mansion – with pillars of marble, walls of glass, and floors of glistening black stone, located on the whitest beach of Malibu's coast – Johnny Cage was irritably sauntering back and forth in his living room. With his cellphone in one hand, and the latest copy of Entertainment Always with the review page up in the other, he read aloud.

"'…but while the cinematography might be up to par, the fact still stands that the direction, writing, and acting above all most definitely is not, thus making Ninja Mime nothing more than another generic installment in Johnny Cage's ever-growing line of failures…' Ugh, I hate that guy!"

Crumpling the magazine into a ball with his free hand, Johnny forcefully hurled it across the room before falling back, draping himself on the white leather sofa.

"What was he expecting? I played a mime! The overacting was on purpose! If you're not supposed to talk, you have to let your body language speak for you."

"Relax, Johnny," the slightly exasperated woman said on the other end of the line. "It doesn't matter what the critics think, as long as the fans like it. Remember, it brought in over $900 million at the box office."

"Yeah, but…" Johnny heaved a sigh. "What if it changes? What if they tire of me, start to think I'm just a buffoon capable of hitting other dudes in the face? What then, Abby?"

Abby drew a breath to speak, but was cut short before she could utter a single word when Johnny made another outburst.

"I mean, there are already some who've lost faith in me! They think I'm not even doing my own stunts! The one thing that even the critics thought was a redeeming factor!"

"No one says your stunts are faked, Johnny."

"Yes they do! Lots of 'em!"

"How do you know?"

Johnny hesitated for a moment. After a split second, he heard a tired sigh on the other end.

"Johnny… Have you been self-googling again?"

"Hey, if your name was Johnny Cage, you would too! It's not like I'm the only one!"

"Dammit, Johnny…" Abby groaned. "Look: I have a few new scripts ready for you. I'll send them over and let you have a read, and then you'll get back to me tomorrow. Okay?"

"Do any of them include a big dramatic scene of utmost drama that really pushes me and my abilities to the limit?" Johnny asked dully.

A long, drawn-out pause followed his question. He could picture Abby in front of him, rolling her eyes and trying to hold in yet another sigh.

"Just call me when you've read them all," she said and hung up before he could retort.

Grumbling, Johnny leaned his head back against the armrest. He laid one arm over his eyes to block out the sun that leaked in through the glass doors to the terrace. Celebrities fell every day. He'd been lucky enough to stay afloat and relevant for the past decade; perhaps it was his time now. But it couldn't! He was still among the big boys, releasing about three movies a year! Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he needed to slow down for a while. Work on something smaller. Help an indie project get off the ground by producing, or writing something himself. He'd have to hire a screenwriter to do the script, but the story could be his own, and then-

He was pulled out of his musings when the phone, still in his hand, rang again. Probably Abby. She'd either forgot to tell him something, or she wanted to make sure he was reading the scripts she'd most likely sent at least five minutes ago.

"Mr. Cage."

Ooookay, that was positively not Abby, unless she'd spontaneously contracted laryngitis, or swallowed a batch of testosterone pills, or… something.

"Yeah," Johnny said as he removed the arm from his eyes, causing them to blink rapidly while adjusting to the fading, but still bright, sunlight. "Who is this?"

"Oh, well, I suppose a fan would be an appropriate response, Mr. Cage," the man on the other end said.

"Uh huh… And how did you get this number?"

"It was quite easy. You just need to have the right contacts. But enough of that. I have long admired your fighting prowess, Mr. Cage. All of it is very impressive."

"Why, thank y-"

"I'd go so far as to say it's what makes your movies."

The man's last sentence hit him square in the stomach. The increasing paranoia rushed out of him the way the air does in a deflating balloon, along with pretty much every other of the day's emotions.

Except maybe "misery".

"Thanks…" he muttered.

"Is this a bad time, Mr. Cage?" the man asked. "Is something the matter? You sound upset."

"Oh, no! No, no. Everything's fine, thanks."

"I came across a review of Ninja Mime in today's issue of Entertainment Always," the man said. "It wasn't very positive. Is that what's bothering you?"

Johnny hastily got into a sitting position. He looked at his own crumpled copy at the far end of the room, then turned to the large windows with the beach below the terrace. Was this guy… watching?

No, that wasn't possible. The alarms would have gone off the instant someone entered the area, and Bo would have seen it on the security cameras. Even so, for his own peace of mind…

"Were there?" he asked nonchalantly whilst he got up with the phone squeezed between his ear and his shoulder. In a hurry, he closed the curtains, lowered the window blinds, and made sure the terrace door was locked. "I haven't read today's EA, so…"

"I see," the man said. "They called it generic and a failure. Which is a shame since it's so much more than that!"

"Oh yeah?"

Goddamn it, why did blinds always have to be difficult at times like this?

"Yes. But the people can't seem to grasp it. And it's partially your fault, Mr. Cage."

"Is it?"

"Because you so rarely live up to your full potential. In order for the world to take you seriously Mr. Cage, you must to prove that you deserve to be taken seriously!"

Johnny halted his movement. Taking a moment to stare out at the beach, the sea, the setting sun, he released the rope of the untangled blind. It fell down into place with a loud rattle.

"Oh yeah? And I'm sure you have a solution for how I'm supposed to do that too, don't you?"

The man hummed good-humoredly.

"Tell me, Mr. Cage; have you ever heard of a small gathering called Mortal Kombat…?"

Tundra was less than five kilometers away from Lin Kuei headquarters when he felt the sensation of being followed wash over him, together with the wind.

Like many times before, he had chosen to take a path through the forest rather than the main road – if only so he would have a few more minutes of silence to clear his head and enjoy the fresh air. He'd still arrive relatively on time, so it didn't matter much.

Slowing his pace, he concentrated on his surroundings. There was something nearby, he just knew it, but couldn't determine where.

The downwind was gentle when it brushed against his back. Quietly, it rustled the tree crowns, the tall grass… and brought the sound of the twig snapping in half unexpectedly close.

Tundra whirled in the direction of the noise, arms up and ready to freeze-blast if necessary. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of a tall man with tattered clothes and a long braid, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

"Please forgive me," he said, then pulled the scarf from his face. "I wasn't my intention to startle you."

At first glance, Tundra had thought it was Tomas, somehow having managed to sneak out to either meet him or to stage a surprise attack, but a closer examination made him feel ridiculous for thinking so. This man was too tall, his hair wasn't silver but pure white, and his eyes were brown and too… soft.

"Not at all," Tundra said, relaxing his stance a little. "I just… didn't expect anyone else out here."

The man smiled.

"No. Few would find purpose in traveling so far out into nowhere."

Tundra nodded, uncertain of what to say next. He regarded the man's threadbare robe, wondering what he was possibly hoping to find in the forest. Did he live here? Or was his appearance just acting as a distraction from his true goal?

"Do you… Do you need money or food?" he asked, grasping at whatever straws he could find, while letting sharp ice discreetly form in his palm. He wasn't interested in killing a simple beggar, but…

The man laughed amiably.

"Oh, no, no. But I would be happy with some company," he said and walked over to a large tree, seating himself on one of the protruding roots. He patted the root to his left. After warily hanging back for a moment, Tundra surprised himself by following suit and sinking down next to him.

He didn't know what to do.

The man pulled out two red apples from his robe, gave one to Tundra, and bit into the other. It was unreal. The whole situation was. No one had ever spotted him while on the way to or from a mission; even if it had happened, the person hadn't thought to approach him. Why would anyone wish to come within the reach of a Lin Kuei assassin? To put them down, was the only reason Tundra knew, but that wasn't right. This man wasn't out to kill him; he could just feel it. And that was extremely odd.

Nothing like this had ever happened before and he didn't know what to do.

Tundra peeked up at the man from the corner of his eye. He was unusually… pretty for a man. Not just the hair and the eyes, but his face was slim and the skin almost inhumanly smooth. Truthfully, if it not for his voice, Tundra most likely would have mistaken him for a woman.

The man sighed contentedly, then looked at Tundra.

"Are you familiar with Mortal Kombat?"

"Yes," Tundra said.

The man's eyes widened in surprise.

"You are? The Lin Kuei is sending a representative?"

"Yes, my brother is-"

Tundra immediately cut himself off. What was he doing? Discussing private affairs with a stranger in the woods? Had he lost his mind?

But it was something about the stranger; he seemed honorable and trustworthy. When he asked, Tundra had wanted to answer honestly.

Staring out into thin air, the man nodded pensively. He glimpsed down at Tundra.

"Your brother, you say… But not you? You strike me as someone powerful."

Tundra lowered his gaze to the ground, to the apple he had begun rolling between his palms, whilst he bit the inside of his cheek.

"My brother is stronger," he mumbled.

"I see."

The man didn't attempt any conversation after that point; they sat silently for several minutes in the windless clearing. Then the man chuckled as he stood up.

"Goodness, I'm keeping you, am I not?"

Tundra blinked perplexedly at the man, before remembering himself. The mission! He needed to report in to the masters, and soon! Damn it!

"Yes," he said as he jumped to his feet and started to leave. "I have to go."

He didn't wait for the stranger to answer, having gotten meters away when the man called out his goodbye.

"You have my apologies. And my best wishes, Kuai Liang."

The sharp gale hit Tundra in the face. He stiffened and came to a standstill.

"How do you know my-"

He turned around, but the man had vanished. He spun in one place, spying up and behind the trees, but saw nothing. He felt nothing either. Despite telling himself how unlikely it was, in the back of his head he knew the ragged stranger was long gone.

Tundra's skin crawled.

He looked down on the apple still in his hand, now completely frozen solid. Releasing the ice-covered fruit to the ground, he hurried back to headquarters.

Officer David Arenas was no stranger to dealing with intimidating women; once upon a time, it was the only kind of woman he ever came across. However, none of the dames that he met during his "career" compared to this one. She was tall, fit, and she would have looked like an angel sent straight from heaven if not for the frown that gave the impression of being permanently etched onto her face.

Oh, and she could probably kill him in less than half a minute.

"There must be something else!" she said. Her delivery carried through the entire office. David guessed that she didn't notice the way she was shouting. "I don't care what but it has to be… something!"

"I'm very sorry, ma'am," he said and strained the corners of his lips upwards. "But I have already told you everything I know. I assure you, if I remember anything else, you will be the first ones I'll let know."

Her eyes narrowed somehow even more than previously. She gritted her teeth. Two of her fingers twitched before her fist clenched, as if she was fighting the urge to grab something pointy and jam it into his neck.

In fact, that was pretty much exactly what she wanted to do. He couldn't blame her.

"Well then!" she barked. "Thank you for your patience, officer."

She didn't give David time to reply, instead turning abruptly and stomping out the door. The building was oddly quiet the first few seconds after she left.

David emitted a loud groan. He allowed his head to fall forward and land on his desk with a thud.

"That went well," he said, his voice a muffled sound.

"It's nothing personal. She's always like that," the man by the desk next to David's said without taking his eyes off the gun he was cleaning.

"Maybe, but…" David looked at his colleague. "I don't know. I guess I feel kind of useless."

It wasn't true. Or, it wasn't the whole truth, at least. He did feel useless, but more than that, he felt like a monster. Always, when he saw her or just someone tall and blonde, even if they weren't female. And it was all his own fault.

"You're not useless."

"Well, okay, but I feel like I should-"

"When you're useless, I'll let you know."

David pressed his lips tightly together and glared at his partner. Not that it mattered, since the man hadn't taken his eyes of his weapon during the entire exchange, but still. It's the thought that counts.

"Gee. Thanks."

"No problem."

He eyed the magazine closely, flicked away an invisible speck of dust, and put it along with the gun away in the top shelf drawer. After what had perhaps been hours, he spared his partner a quick look from the corner of his eye.

"Don't beat yourself up over it, Arenas," he said. "You've done your part. There's no point in dwelling in the past when you can live in the present."

David let the words sink in as he sat up. He'd been told this so many times, by so many people. He didn't believe it, and he never would, because it just wasn't true. But, all the same, there was something comforting about the fact that other people believed it, and were willing to try and convince him over and over again.

"I guess. Maybe." David looked over at his friend, who'd already gone on to continue working and was diligently shuffling through the paperwork on his desk.

"Hey, Stryker."

"Hmm?"

"Thanks."

Sonya Blade was not having a good day.

The latest lead on the Black Dragon had turned out to be a load of unhelpful bullshit, she wasn't needed anywhere else at the office right now, and this little visit to Mr. "I'm-Totally-Reformed-Now, Honest!" had been a complete waste of time.

The motorcycle's engine revved when she started it, causing a number of passerby to jump in surprise. One old lady in particular gave her a nasty look, but Sonya couldn't find the energy to glare back.

After a ride back that was way too short, she burst into Jax's office, not caring whether she disturbed him.

"Nothing!" she declared.

"I know," he said without looking up from his computer. "I interrogated Mr. Arenas myself, remember? You need to stop harassing that poor man."

Sonya scoffed loudly. Jax glanced up at her, a serious expression on his face.

"I mean it, Blade. Besides, I thought I gave you today off."

She scoffed again. Jax sighed.

"You're of no use to me if you've burned yourself out. You should take advantage of this and rest-"

"I'll rest when Kano is behind bars! Or better: in the electric chair!"

Jax opened his mouth to speak when the phone's ringing cut him off. His eyes darted between it and Sonya, before he pointed at her and picked up the receiver at the same time.

"You'll stay right there," he said. She crossed her arms and parked herself on the edge of Jax's desk. Perhaps he would be so exasperated with her that he'd actually give her something to do after the lecture. But, knowing Jax, if he wanted to punish her it'd probably be by giving her more vacation. Damn it.

"…the Black Dragon, you say?"

Sonya immediately snapped back to reality, almost knocking herself off the desk when spun around to look at Jax. She mouthed "Black Dragon?", to make sure it wasn't simply her imagination. He nodded calmly in response.

"Sir, you do realize this is not the place you call when having a- Alright, I see. An island, huh?"

Jax reached for his notepad and began jotting down what had to be coordinates.

"Well, thank you, sir. We'll dig into this as soon as we can. Yes. Of course. Thank you."

Running one hand down his face, Jax put the phone in its cradle and held up the page with the coordinates on it. He stared at it fleetingly; then shifted his gaze to Sonya.

"Well?!" she asked, leaning so much forward so that she nearly draped herself over the table. "Do we have something?"

"Not sure…" Jax said. "It was a strange sounding fellow. Didn't give a real answer how he got my number, and then he stressed several times how important it is that we're prepared to act by Tuesday next week. Apparently that's when the 'operation' – what kind he didn't clarify either, by the way – would take place."

Sonya leaned back whilst grinding her teeth. Yeah, that didn't sound promising. In the least worst-case scenario, it could be an incredibly elaborate prank. In the worst worst-case scenario, it could be a trap. She didn't put it past Kano to do either of the two just fuck with them, the sociopathic bastard. But, in the best-case scenario and it was neither…

"We should investigate further before deciding," she said. "Not make any assumptions."

Jax peered up at her. There was a small smile playing upon his lips.

"True," he said. "First and foremost, I'll have someone confirm that this island does exist-"

"I'll do it!" she said as she snatched the piece of paper from him, jumped off the desk, and sprinted out of the office.

"Blade!" he shouted after her. "You're supposed to be resting!"

"I'll do that afterwards!"

The last of Lawrence Thawley's classes for the day had ended seconds ago. Students were flooding out of the seminar, their footsteps and dialogues blending together into a buzzing murmur. The professor stood straight as he assembled his documents and acknowledged his pupils when they told him goodbye. It was only after the last one had left that he allowed himself to slump against the desk. He began massaging his temples with a tired groan. Not too long ago he'd heard a teaching assistant mention something called "Thursday fatigue". He guessed that was what he felt at the present, despite the fact that today was merely Monday.

Jesus Christ, this was going to be a long-

"Professor?"

Lawrence startled at the sound and quickly looked up. Three of the students turned out to have lingered right outside the classroom, now standing cluttered in the doorway. Lawrence cursed himself for not noticing them. He should have heard them.

"Ah, yes? Did you forget something?"

All three girls shook their heads. The one who spoke before – Eleanor was her name – boldly stepped forward with the other two trailing behind.

"No, we were…" She stopped in front of the desk, clasping her hands in front of her and bowing her head sheepishly. "We're unsure about a few things concerning the course… Do you think you could help, professor?"

"It's just a few questions!" the one to the right – Amanda – quickly interjected. Jenny, the last one, only giggled.

Lawrence let out an internal scream, and smiled kindly at them.

"Of course. It's what I'm here for, after all. How can I help you?"

Amanda and Jenny broke out into a chorus of thank-yous and some more giggling, which Eleanor almost instantly quelled with a raise of her hands.

"Good!" she said with a beam. "Firstly, it's what you said earlier today…"

As they talked, Lawrence had to ask himself what he'd done to deserve this. Their questions were incredibly basic – questions these girls, whom he knew were all very clever, should know the answer to already. Either they had collectively been struck with a bad case of amnesia, or they were deliberately trying to obfuscate their knowledge for some reason. Considering how compulsively Jenny kept playing with her locks and tittered more than she spoke, how Amanda crossed her arms beneath her chest so that her cleavage grew significantly, and how, with each question, Eleanor leaned in a little bit closer to flutter her lashes at him, Lawrence could guess the reason quite easily.

Once again, what had he done? And which god should he pray to in order to make it stop?

"Lawrence!"

Four heads spun in the direction of the entrance. A tall man in a smart, light-gray suit and long, white hair had arrived (and Lawrence cursed once more for not noticing him either). After five rapid strides and no warning, he embraced Lawrence, hoisting the similarly quite tall professor off the ground while doing it.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" he asked.

"Well, we-" Lawrence said as he struggled to be released.

"It's just been so long and I just really wanted to see you!" the man cut him off, squeezing just a little bit harder. "You girls know how it's like, right?" He winked at the students.

All three seemed to have become dumbstruck by his sudden presence, gaping at him with wide eyes. Then Eleanor gathered herself with a nervous, and rather shrill, laughter.

"Sure we do," she said, grabbing her friends by their wrists as she began to leave. "We're pretty much done here, so we'll leave you guys to… catch up, I guess."

They said goodbye one last time – hopefully – and left in a hurry whilst whispering to each other. Raiden's now pupil-less eyes followed them until they were fully departed, then turned to Lawrence with a grin.

"Well. They were pretty hot," he said as he put the historian down on the ground.

"Be quiet," Lawrence muttered.

"I wonder, though, what were they expecting? A passionate orgy on the top of your-"

"Is there a reason for you to be here, Raiden?"

Wearing a maddening smirk, Raiden tsked and wagged his finger at him.

"There is a reason for everything I do. You should know that, Lawrence."

Lawrence grumbled to himself and went on organizing his papers and books like he had done before the first interruption, while he waited for Raiden to continue talking. Raiden leaned against the wall behind them, resting his heavy gaze on Lawrence's back.

"It's time," was all he said. Lawrence froze where he stood. His heart quickened its pace and his mouth dried up as he processed the words. He inhaled deeply.

"At last," he said with an almost completely steady voice. "Where, and when?"

"An island, where someone uninvited won't be able to reach us, eight days from now."

Cocking his head to the side, Raiden observed him with narrowed eyes.

"Will Nightwolf be ready?" he asked. Lawrence straightened himself and lifted his chin to look the Thunder God directly in the eye.

"I have been ready for twenty years, Haokah."

Raiden snickered at the memory. Despite himself, Lawrence tugged his lips into something genuine as well.

"But what about you?" he said. "Have you found enough easily persuaded people to do your bidding?"

"Lawrence!" Raiden cheerfully chided him. "I can't believe you're asking me something so preposterous! Of course I have gathered enough fighters!"

A small, self-satisfied simper settled upon his lips.

"And some of them appear to be very promising!"

In one of the yards belonging to the Shaolin Monastery in China's Henan province, the young monk practicing his forms suddenly stopped to sneeze.

Working title for this chapter – Chloroform Would Have Required Less Effort

Honestly, this is a prologue. I'm just not calling it a prologue because prologues are awful. View this as the bread, where I tell you some of the whos and hows, before you get to the meat and mayo and whatnot in chapter 2.

Gave Nightwolf and that other guy you-know-who-it-is-but-I-won't-say-it-because-of-reasons real names because it would be weird otherwise. I thought I was being clever about it. Feel free to tell me otherwise.

Some characters' personalities will be different due to a number of reasons, such as them being made younger, changed/explored backstories, and the aforementioned mixing of the universe. You may call it OOC; I do not.

Note that English is not my first language. I am fluent, but make mistakes, and I do appreciate being made aware of them. Thank you for reading, and please review. Positive or negative, it will be appreciated.