"If he has the books," Liu croaked through bloodied lips, "use them."

"You think so? This just sounds like bullshit to me." Sonya held the hammered metal cup to his lips with one hand. The other rested behind his head, easing him up just enough to swallow the water. The foul smell of the room crept into her nostrils and stayed there, pus and blood and the sick-sweet odour of uncleanliness that she couldn't shake. It wasn't as though there was the Red Cross to petition for aid, or any of the conventions of normal warfare to rely on; this was Outworld, lawless fighting at its worst. She looked down at this Shaolin monk, and wished not for the first time that she could give him one of her weekly "meetings" with Sindel. They inevitably took place while they bathed in fresh, hot water. They were interrogations in the finest sense, while Sonya was at her most vulnerable, but just to get Liu rinsed clean of all the filth… she'd stand there naked at parade rest and let Sindel have at, for his sake.

His injuries probably wouldn't handle it well, but at least the rest of him would be clean. It would keep the infections at bay. She sometimes considered bringing in a needle and draining some of his wounds, or trying to clean them out with some of the vicious alcohol Outworld boasted, but the risk to him was too great. Liu had quipped he was willing to forestall immediate shock and possible death and the need to self-cauterize wounds in the hope that they'd just forget about him and they could sneak out when he'd been abandoned. Both of them had laughed bitterly at that unlikelihood, given the way the court enjoyed their frequent torture of him.

She drew her focus back to his soft, almost cracking voice, as he kept talking, proffering more water as needed, and trying to wash away some of the caked blood and fluids from him. She would have to lie to Kitana about this; there was no way even the specter of the truth would help her mood.

Funny. Weeks ago she was ready to kill Kitana — and anyone else from Outworld — and now she was trying to save the same woman's sensibilities.

"Sonya, I throw fire from my hands." He arched an eyebrow and winced in pain. "Trust me. The potential is in you — it's in all of us — but if you have the time… focus on it. You have trained in martial arts. I can sense the energy in you. It is as though it's hibernating — it just needs the right thing to wake it up. If he has a manual and you can find it, you will be able to learn some of this. They're often protected, and I'm certain if he has one it will be in code."

"Great, so now I'm a spy, a servant, and a codebreaker." She rolled her eyes and ladled more water into the wooden cup. She hadn't been able to get to Liu Kang immediately upon finding the book, forced to wait several days. She'd spent the entire time listening, running through sparring practice against her own shadow, occasionally reading what she could, and trying to decide what to do. She regretted every minute of her feigned idleness and her gilded cage with what Liu Kang had been enduring. If he wasn't Raiden's Chosen One, she'd eat her boots.

If she ever got them back.

She looked down at him again, shaking her head. "I can't sit there and read books while you're going through this. We've got to get them to stop this torture."

"Reading the books is the best way to get them to stop," he pointed out. She slammed a fist into the wall behind him angrily in response, and immediately regretted it. Pain spiked through her knuckles. "Breaking your hands won't do it. I speak from experience. Take the books he has, Sonya."

"Johnny and Cassie are in the dungeon. Goddamned Mileena is pacing this place like a wild animal and I keep thinking she's going to try to eat you. Kitana's depressed and is still trying to make plans, you're being tortured, and you want me to read a book?"

"If Shang Tsung underestimates you enough to leave books you can read that will teach you how to defeat him, he is an absolute fool." Liu Kang tried to crack a smile. "He has left you weapons to defeat him with. What kind of warrior would leave those lying around and not learn how to use them?"

"Fucking monks," she grumbled, but nodded grudgingly. He did have a point, even if it was the kind of work that she hated. Sitting on her ass and reading paperwork. Mopping the floor against Outworld's omnipresent dust was at least something physical.

"Ask me what you don't understand. And if you find anything about fire…" His eyes were hopeful, and it gutted her. She touched the back of one of his hands as gently as she could.

"I'll bring it to you. This should all be your thing, not mine."

"Just think about it like this." He grinned, a genuine one. "The look on Kung Lao's face will be priceless."

She couldn't help but smile back.

The next few weeks, or what she thought were weeks, felt like they stretched into years. They were filled dawn to dusk with the tedium of menial drudgery and occasionally interspersed with her new required reading and meditating to practice what she gleaned from Shang Tsung's texts. After some searching and guidance from Liu Kang on what to look for, she had found the manual — battered, written in tight neat script intending to take advantage of every inch of space. She was desperate to take notes in a way that would allow her to make sense of the material, but had a feeling the sorcerer would somehow know if even a single drop of ink was used — particularly since he seemed far more determined than she liked to coerce her into siding with him. Shang Tsung himself watched her with a fierce kind of avariciousness, plied her with sweet words, and every day she wanted to scrub herself clean against the charm and sly scheming that oozed from his pores. She had to strain her mind and memorize as much as possible; many nights ended in headaches, visions of old Chinese characters dancing behind her eyelids, her mind trying to file away what it had absorbed.

She spent half the time feeling like an idiot, convinced there would be no change in things. This was bullshit, no matter the fact that she knew Liu Kang could throw fire from his hands, that she'd seen Kung Lao teleport with that hat of his. She'd seen things that absolutely fell into Chinese near-fantasy movies, and she knew there were no stunt doubles or special effects departments to be found. So why did this seem such a stretch?

For the thousandth time, she tried to clear her mind and focus on her breathing and the lines of life energy that were supposed to be flowing through her body, all culminating in her core. Her core — that sounded like a euphemism and she didn't want to think about it, and there went her mind again right off the damn track.

Again.

It was as bad as boot camp, or worse, just repetitively focusing her mind back on the task at hand every time she failed. Maybe it would become habit, like swinging a kick or sliding into a shooting posture; until then, it was forcing herself to fix it when she inevitably forgot.

Again.

She shifted on the floor, trying to settle the twist low in her abdomen that kept distracting her. It remained close-but-not-quite to tension or being so close to getting off and then not being able to, a low and chafing irritation. She tried to focus on that instead, as if by attention alone she could untangle the knot or burn it clear. This indecision had to stop. She had a goal. She had friends in need and she had a weapon in her hands if she could only fucking use it. She had to be her own drill sergeant now.

Again.

The frustration burned low and deep in her, fierce and angry. Get it together, Blade. Straighten up, stop whining. She'd been given weapons she didn't know how to use before, and turned them around and used them on her attackers. She had the same thing now. She had to take it and use them; that's what a soldier did in guerrilla warfare. With the low embers low in her, she bit her lower lip hard enough to taste blood. It was as though the fire licked at it, bright and hot, savoring the coppery tang in her mouth. She was close, so close, to something she knew, or thought she should. Almost within her grasp, and she couldn't grasp it. So close.

Again.

And nothing.

Her meetings with Sindel gave Sonya a finer understanding of what she was supposed to be doing. The information she had was sparse, merely reporting back on Shang Tsung's hours, his conduct, who visited and for how long. What he worked on, what he spoke of when they were alone… The sense of betrayal, of being a collaborator, slid over and under her skin. Nothing she did could clean it off, no matter how fine the soaps and the almost cordial way Sindel spoke with her. Not that they were equals, never that — but that Sonya was a member of the household. Not a prisoner with no other options.

Those exchanges gave her information back in return; Sindel had to be conscious of what she was doing, the drips of information she released in almost inconsequential chatter, but there was little Sonya could act on. One tidbit she carried to Kitana and Liu Kang both: the way Sindel seethed when she spoke of Lei Chen and the rebels there. Rebels granted shelter, or aided and abetted, by the governor of that "cursed mountain city". And it had formed quickly, so it seemed — almost as soon as Sindel and Shao Kahn had returned to the fortress.

Rebels led by Kitana's erstwhile bodyguard Jade, and Liu Kang's companion Kung Lao. A rebellion to unseat Shao Kahn.

Sindel could have kept that to herself. She could have let Sonya hear by gossip from others, or from Shang Tsung, who would almost certainly make her work for any word of her former (albeit temporary) comrades at arms. Was it intended as a tease, dangling the rumor like a lure on a line, to see how they responded? To see if she shared it, and thus who Sonya spoke to?

If she'd had any of her resources - soldiers, satellites, even a sniper rifle… Deep in enemy territory, her allies all worse off than she was? This was a shitshow and no mistake. She weighed sharing the hints, then finally gave in. Even false help might be better than no hope at all, and everything she learned felt like and pouring through her fingers. So little made any sense to her.

Hearing of Jade and Kung Lao's survival brought both Kitana and Liu hope, and made Sonya ache to see it. Knowing that something was happening, far away, and something that they could not aid in any way. But the hope, the wan smiles on cracked lips, had to be enough for now.

And then Mileena managed to fuck it all up. Sonya hadn't been there to see it, though she wished she had. Shang Tsung had returned gloating, gleeful enough to pour two cups of wine and proffer one to her in celebration.

"You should have seen it. I could not have arranged it better. She brought back Rain — though you wouldn't know him." There was a gleam in his eye at that, one that made her stomach roil suspiciously. "He was her… ally, apparently, in the years that followed my death and your victory. She rode to deal with the Tarkatans, failed to bring them to heel, ate one of Shao Kahn's servants, brought back one of the his former Generals, and fought with said former General - Prince Rain - in the halls."

She looked down at the wine, refusing to trust it, or him. Probably poisoned and he'd built up an immunity to it over his centuries. She'd be dead in a heartbeat. "And?"

"Kitana is disgraced, Mileena disgraced — I thought I had trained her better, sadly — and Shao Kahn has arranged an entertainment. Mileena and Rain will fight in the Koliseum for our amusement." Shang Tsung smiled, and lifted his glass towards Sonya. "It's going to be a lovely event. I have been considering inviting Rain to join us one evening, to discuss what he can share about the time after my… untimely demise. It may be educational for both of us." The smile on his face shifted to something more considering. "Now, Sindel said that I couldn't touch you. But nothing was said of others. I wonder if the Prince would find Earthrealm flesh of interest. He rarely has before, but…"

"I'm not some party favor getting passed around. Not for sorcerers, not for princes, not for anybody." She snapped one hand out, splashing her full cup of wine all over him and his robes. Her mind had a brief moment of regret but she shoved the consideration down and away. She may be committing suicide-by-sorcerer, but she'd already pulled the pin. Now was just a case of seeing how bad the explosion was.

There were two heartbeats that lasted the space of eternity as he absorbed what she'd done before time sped up again.

Shang Tsung's face contorted into a rictus of shock as the dark red liquid dripped down his sleeves and off his robe. Shock turned to anger, his eyes narrowing and his mouth curving into a cruel smile. One of his hands twisted, dropping to one side and reaching for a soul jar at his hip. The cork popped into his palm. It took every bit of her strength to stand still, digging deep into the reserves of her willpower and confidence, and hoping to every god that had ever existed that Shang Tsung's desire to save his own skin would keep him from going too far.

Green soulfire wreathed his hand as he rose, the flames licking through the air towards her. She swallowed and steeled herself against the sight of it, holding her position in the room. Every part of her body was taut, conscious and screaming that this was it, this was the end, she'd really gone and fucked it up now.

The fire licked across her skin, not searing her flesh but somehow cold and almost greasy. He did not approach, staying seated as he watched the wine drip onto the floor in droplets spattering like blood. His face twisted again into a malevolent kind of glee, hate-filled smile stretching wide over what would be a handsome face. Should be, for that matter — but he was a megalomaniac, or worse.

"I could take your mind, hollow you out into a shell. Sindel only forbade me to touch your body, but your mind and your soul could be mine. The things I could do with it." His hand clenched and the green soulfire drew back, coalescing into a hooded cobra with its mouth open wide. "No more of this arguing. Obedient, meek, doing as you were told. A token to push about the board. So pretty, so fierce, and to see that turned to my ends…"

"Like you'd enjoy that," she scoffed. "You don't want to break me. You want me to like you, to give everything up for what you have. You want me to want to join you because I want to. The minute I give in, you wouldn't give a damn about me." Please, she thought, let me be guessing this right. Her stomach had taken up residence somewhere near her toes and yeah, Jax liked to say she was hot-headed and had a hell of a temper… but future her had made General, which meant there was something there. She just had to dig deep to find it, pretend she was twenty years older and a hell of a lot more jaded. She kept her eyes on the sorcerer, not on the soulfire cobra in front of her. Shang Tsung's nostrils flared as he stared at her, unblinking and expression as steady as a statue. That horrible smile made her stomach knot up, but somehow the little fire in it burned brighter. Almost simultaneously, his smile flickered, and she would swear his pupils seemed to elongate and go serpentine for a heartbeat. When she blinked, the effect had vanished. "You want to rip out my brain, my soul? Fine. I'd love to see you explain your version of me to Sindel. Especially when it comes time for me to fulfill any of the terms of our agreement."

Something in that made him waver, some of the malevolence sliding out of his eyes. The smile flickered, and the cobra slid ever so slightly forward and to one side, as though it considered her before striking.

"You may have a point," he conceded as the gleam in his eyes took on a new kind of look. "I will so enjoy having you as my student. When you give up hope. It's been weeks, Sonya. Not a single soul has come for you. And I would know. You — and Princess Kitana and the Shaolin monk, and your family down in the dungeons — are ours. Make peace with it. The power you will wield, the armies you can command, when you finally accept your role…" He trailed off, that unctuous smile again, with the threat clear behind it. "Until then, mop up this mess you've made. I have other matters to attend to."

Only a handful of days later, Sonya was ripped from the questionable safety of Shang Tsung's chambers. She fought and snarled as Shokan guards hauled her and Kitana out into Shao Kahn's Koliseum. She raged against the chains, despite the ridiculously short robes and the likelihood everyone could see under them; the time for propriety was done. Her eyes slid around the koliseum, taking in the audience as well as the prisoners. Her eyes caught on two faces at the side of the arena: Cassie and Johnny. Despite Sindel's assurances of their safety, they bore the signs of abuse: faces and exposed forearms covered in bruises, fresh red-purple through to the sickening green-yellow of almost healed. Rents in their clothes revealed healing cuts and more discoloration from injuries. This was not what she had agreed upon; was this some kind of subtle hint that Sindel knew what was happening? Or if she didn't know, that she suspected? A reminder of just how far her power stretched?

Sonya hated politics and intrigue, and let out a stream of curses that would have pleased her drill sergeant back in boot camp. This was all well above her paygrade, way above anything she'd ever dealt with. The crowd had come for a show; she was inclined to let them have it. She lashed out with a leg and clipped one of the guards in the face with a heel, snapping his head back and drawing blood with the blow to his jaw. The crowd cheered. Kitana said — just loud enough to be heard — "Remember." Almost hissed, but the three syllables were laden with warning.

Remember what we're doing here. Remember what they want from us. Remember the secrets we're keeping.

And Sonya went limp, complacent. She hated it, but Kitana's word reminded her why they were here, the purpose of their plans. She could show just enough fight — maybe she'd shown more than she should have — but they had to let everyone think they'd been defeated. That they weren't, perhaps, as strong a pair of warriors as Shao Kahn had led everyone to believe.

That perhaps he wasn't as strong as he wanted everyone to believe.

The guards cuffed her roughly across the face, one with a spiked gauntlet that cut into her skin and made her head ring. She felt the drip of blood down her cheek, tasted it at the corner of her mouth. The guards slid her chains in through the rings in the posts, keeping her separate from Kitana. Between them was Shao Kahn's dais and throne, Sindel and Mileena and Skarlet all standing around him like fawning sycophants. What she wouldn't give for a Hellfire missile right now; her life would be lost, but it would be worth it to take the four of them out.

She wanted to rage against the restraints at the sight of Cassie and Johnny as battered as they were; the fire that burned in her sparked hotter at Shang Tsung smirking in the stands, beneath a shaded canopy. She ached to destroy him where he sat. Her anger only rose as Earthrealm soldiers — they weren't her soldiers, but they were soldiers, brothers and sisters nonetheless — appeared, dragged out as the victims for the pre-show in this hideous entertainment.

She was so very, very close to saying fuck it to Kitana and finding a way to get to her people. This was traitorous, weak-spine, collaborator bullshit. This was being a victim. She was going to give Kitana a piece of her mind when this was over. Find a way to get back to Earthrealm and just nuke the everliving shit out of Outworld, and damn the consequences.

What followed was hard to watch, but she put on her best stone-cold face, a statue at inspection. She watched one of the reptile monsters destroy a Naknadan — and then some of her comrades-at-arms. More than she wanted to see. She had to watch, so someone could say they'd died with dignity. She turned occasionally to watch Mileena, bare-faced and serpentine tongue licking the air as soldiers, good soldiers, died.

Skarlet kept calling their blood to her, drawing it up out of the sands in spheres and spirals, lips tilted up in a near-smile, as she deliberately met Sonya's eyes each time and tasted the blood of the fallen. Sonya looked past her, settling her gaze on Cassie, her perhaps-future-daughter, though with everything that had happened with the Hourglass, it was hard to know what would remain the same and what would change. The young woman tried to make gestures in the silent language of the military, but the restrictions on her hands — and on Sonya's — made communication nearly impossible, and the distance too great to read lips, the roar of the crowd too great to be heard if she shouted.

Okay, Sonya signed, holding her fingers in the nearly-univeral sign, and hoping Cassie could see it. They were all alive, they were okay. For now. It could hardly get worse.

"Why didn't you let me try to do something?" Sonya wiped the last of the bloodied dirt from her face and hands, throwing the cloth in a pile with the other rags in Kitana's suite. It could hardly get worse… for us. Sure as shit did for Mileena.

"You would have gotten yourself, or both of them - or worse, all three of you - killed." Kitana shook her head, reaching for the hairbrush. "They wanted a fight, Sonya. By looking despondent, we make them think we are nothing so they cannot predict what we will do. Mileena's loss today will devastate her greatly, and Shang Tsung will go looking for her."

"Which means I'll have to endure that bitch."

"There may be yet hope to fix this. If we can sway her, turn her to our side - with the Tarkatans not far away…" Kitana's fingers worked through Sonya's hair with a slow and steady patience. "Already the people of Outworld question Shao Kahn's return, and you have said there are rumors of Jade and Kung Lao fomenting a rebellion in Lei Chen. If such a thing is true, much is happening that will unsettle things. There will be opportunities for us to strike where they do not expect it. As it is, Mother and Shao Kahn believe I am depressed, weak — useless."

"Because you're barely taking care of yourself," Sonya retorted. Kitana smacked her lightly on the shoulder with the palm of her hand. "Kitana, this is all intrigue and politics. This is not what I do. I have no idea about any of this."

"Mileena is busy ruining herself with little assistance from us, removing herself as a threat before she has the chance to become one." Kitana began to work the brush through Sonya's hair. "You tell me of Liu Kang and what he endures, and I learn all I can as the servants gossip and wholly discount me. Not everyone is happy with what is happening here; too much turmoil, too many changes in power. Some are still sympathetic to me," Kitana added. "They know what I promised, despite the lies being spewed about me."

"About Queen Sheeva?"

"The same." Kitana's lips clamped into a thin line, brush pausing midstroke. "They say I killed her. Why would I kill her, and not Baraka? If I had killed her, would someone not have seen her body? But it is gone, Sonya." The brush resumed its tugging. "So Queen Sheeva has escaped, somewhere. And if she returns, and speaks ill of my mother — then there is hope we may be able to take back what should be mine."

Sonya began to tick points off on her fingers. "Get them to stop torturing Liu Kang, find Sheeva and get her to raise the Shokans in your name, get Baraka to side with you again, figure out what this thing is happening in Lei Chen with Jade, march on the fortress again and retake the throne of Outworld. Oh. And rescue Raiden and Fujin, who are being kept somewhere by Shang Tsung so he can leech off their perpetually-regenerating life forces. Am I missing anything?"

"When you put it like that," Kitana replied dryly, "it does seem a rather large set of goals to achieve. What have you learned otherwise while in Shang Tsung's service?" She set the brush aside and began to work a small segment of hair into a braid. It wasn't quite a nervous habit, but it gave her something to do as they talked and schemed. Intricate hairstyles had never been Sonya's interest, particularly while in the military, but Kitana enjoyed it… so she let it be. It was also kind of… nice, having someone do that for her. The last person had been her mother, and the hair-braiding days were long ago.

"He's convinced he can turn me to his side, and in doing so, get a grasp on Earthrealm again. Sindel and Shao Kahn keep him at a distance and it makes him angry, but he also knows better than to lay a hand on me because Sindel seems to have her own plans. I'm a… gesture, but not one he can take too much advantage of. I think he's expecting me to like the nice treatment, and then serve him if he promises to protect Cassie and Johnny."

"And would you?"

"Never." Sonya whirled and glared at Kitana, a half-done braid pulling out of her hand with the motion. "It's surreal as fuck to have a kid my age. With Cage. I see you and Liu Kang, and every time something happens, it kills you inside. I can't think of caring about anybody that much. Cassie's a good soldier, and I could almost — almost — picture myself dating Johnny. But they're a liability right now. I can't afford to care about them more than that until we're free and clear. Otherwise they become an even bigger tool to be used against me."

Kitana resumed plaiting with nimble fingers, humming softly as she worked. "Those beliefs are much like the ones I held through most of my life. Easier to ignore it, easier not to care. But sometimes it is worth breaking with old habits. Otherwise we would not be here, would we?"

"I like my old habits just fine." Sonya wrinkled her nose. "What I don't like is… this is all politics, Kitana. This is all your shit. I'm here to fight." She rubbed at the back of her head, only for Kitana to swat her hand away.

"This is how you fight now." She tied off the end of one of the braids, and began to loop and link it with others. "It is not quite the assassin's art — I do not think you could ever stomach that, slinking in the shadows — but with someone so forthright, few would expect a hidden blade."

"Ha ha. Very funny."

"I do not think you could ever become an assassin," Kitana added after a moment. "You are simply too blunt and straightforward. You do not have the deceit in you. You would make a good general, however. That is what the older you has become, isn't it?"

"Had." Sonya gave her a bitter smile. "Dead, now. Like I guess your Revenant counterpart is." Sonya ran her fingertips over the braids of her hair. "We'll see what happens when all this is over. I'm not… I'm a lieutenant. I'm not a general, not yet. Hell, Kitana, I'm not even thirty," and she said it sounding so aggrieved it almost made her laugh. "I'm not general material. Not yet."

"Generals aren't made, Sonya, they're born. It is only a matter of growing into it. The promise is there. If we survive this — and when we are at a point where I name generals… you will stand alongside Jade, I think."

That made Sonya splutter, turning wide-eyed to look at Kitana again. "Jax'd never let me live that one down." Sonya snorted with disbelief. "General of a foreign army. He'd shit a brick."

"So I should not name you the nominal general of my forces?" Kitana sounded oddly serious; it set Sonya off balance. This wasn't a joke. She seemed coldly serious about it all.

"Ah, let's maybe… hold off on that. Until, y'know, you have forces that are more than just…" She gestured to herself, and then ambiguously off into the rest of the fortress and beyond. "Little presumptuous to be general of nobody, right?"

"We'll have an army. We already have one. It's just a matter of reaching them." Kitana smiled, slight but genuine. "We have two, for that matter. The Tarkatans, and Kung Lao and Jade in Lei Chen. Three, if we can come to the truth about what happened to Queen Sheeva and perhaps bring the Shokan back to our side. So, will you stand with me as a general, Sonya?"

The day had been hell, and it still hurt to think about. Sonya sank onto her pallet in the side room and let out a heavy sigh. General Blade in her twenties? General of an Outworld army, trying to summon what was damn near magic out of herself? This was… fuck, she didn't know what it was. She pressed her face into the thin pillow and let out a stifled growl of frustration. Shang Tsung had been right, damn him. He'd been right. No one had come for them, and it had absolutely been weeks. There would be no aid coming in, no Hellfire missiles or bomber planes, no squads dropping in to extract them. They had been abandoned. She didn't know what was happening in Earthrealm, but she couldn't afford hypotheticals about another place while she was living in a spiked cage.

She'd accepted, as Kitana knew she would, all those centuries of experience adding up to a better judge of character than Sonya could ever hope to be. She'd find a way to reconcile it when she could; it felt almost as much of a betrayal as if she agreed to work for Shang Tsung. She was digging herself a hole, deeper and deeper into Outworld's graces, good and ill.

She rolled onto her back to look at the stones and beams of the ceiling, count the cracks and chips in the aged stone as she did so many nights.

Tonight a thin blade pressed so close it nearly kissed her skin, and the weight of a body dropped down over her, a gloved hand muffling her mouth.

"Make a single sound and I will slit your throat with no remorse," the voice said softly. "You are a servant to Shang Tsung. Is this true?"

"Can't fucking answer if you're going to murder me," she retorted into the gloved hand. All her words were caught and muffled, rendered nigh-indistinguishable against the soft fabric. The man laughed nonetheless, as though she'd spoken clearly. It was not a voice she knew, not a laugh she recognized, so who the fuck was in here? If this was one of Shang Tsung's goddamned errand boys here to kill her, she would show that damned sorcerer and paint the walls with his flunky's blood.

The hand lifted as if the man had read her mind. As her eyes adjusted to the shape in the dark, she looked up at him, kneeling over her in a position that would be a hell of a lot more intimate if she couldn't see the long blade of a katana glinting in the light. Taller than her, dressed in black with leather and beaten metal armor. A sash cut across his body marked with a symbol she couldn't identify in the shadows, and he wore a headband — no, not a headband, a… blindfold? "So you are not his servant willingly?"

"Fuck no," she swore. There was a moment where she felt odd, as if someone had reached in and upended her brain like a rucksack, rifling through the contents. It was for a moment like a horrible hangover when she couldn't remember anything, a point of paralysis when she couldn't make any of her body work and then it was — gone. As if it had never been.

"You truly have no love for him." The voice was baffled, but it slowly turned to pleasure.

"No, I really don't. Would you please get off of me?" She tried to draw a knee up but couldn't with the interloper's position. "And tell me what the fuck you are doing here? Who are you?"

"I have sworn an oath to kill Shang Tsung. Had you answered in any way but what you did — and had your mind not proven to me the truth of your words — I would have slit your throat with Sento on the spot." The figure rocked back and rose, though he did not sheathe his sword, standing limned in silver by the moonlight. He didn't quite strike a pose the same way Cage did, but he moved with the ease and confidence of a trained fighter certain of his skills. "I am Takahashi Kenshi."

"Yeah?" She blew a strand of loose hair from her eyes and propped herself up. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Shang Tsung stole the souls of my ancestors, and blinded me in the process. For their peace and rest, I have sworn to kill him." The man's lips quirked slightly, and he tipped his head down, as if he could see her.

"Sworn to kill him, huh?" She sat up the rest of the way, grinning a little. "I should probably get a recruitment pitch… But have you ever thought of joining an insurrection?"