Bondage
by Nyohah

3
Life in the Underworld
Letter to Yuan Li

You should be proud of me. I made a friend. Okay, so Kung Lao and I had a similar goal in verbally torturing Sub-Zero, but he did blush! Take that, Kung Lao.

Speaking of Sub-Zero, something is not right about him. First of all, as I mentioned above, he's supposed to be dead. Also, he used to be kind of cocky, and arrogant. Now he's quiet and withdrawn? And he didn't know what Goro was. He was in the same tournament as Goro; he should know what Goro was (a four-armed giant). Death or near-death experiences can cause changes—I of all people should know that—but still, he seems too different. He didn't even seem to remember that he killed Scorpion. He actually asked me why Scorpion hated him!

And, oh, yeah, the ice ninja barely beat the demon. It was a very exciting fight, with ice and spears flying everywhere, though eventually, Sub-Zero beat Scorpion without relying on his powers, instead using quick and powerful strikes. He's surprisingly fast, for an ice elemental, I even told him so, and he claimed to be merely water.

Baraka beat Jax in their match, and the only interesting part of it was Shang Tsung barely stopping Baraka from killing Jax, which I learned from Kitana later, as I couldn't make myself stay. I know I should have. Kung Lao fought Kitana, and he throws that hat of his, as I suspected, but it still sounds funny on paper. It was a pretty close fight, and judging from her praise of his reaction time and speed, I'd bet a great deal that he is a wind elemental, like me. I fought Rayden, on the bridge over the Pit. He was strong, but slow. He has a totally unfair way of flying across the arena like a torpedo, and you can't duck under it, although if you block, he ricochets off, making it very easy to do some major damage to him. I won, of course. After I beat him, I contemplated throwing him off the side and watching him splat on the ground, just to give his divine ego a check, but considering how psycho Shang Tsung went when Baraka almost killed Jax, it's a good thing I didn't find out what it would be like if someone actually got killed after only one loss. Liu Kang got to sit out because he won the last tournament, beating Shang Tsung, and you would not believe the hatred Tsung feels for the monk. I've also decided that I don't like Liu Kang. His holier-than-thou attitude really gets on my nerves. Just because he's 'The Chosen One,' he thinks he's practically a god. And it's not a White Lotus thing, either, because Kung Lao is really quite tolerable. Actually he's more than tolerable, he's—dare I say it?—likable.

I won't go into much detail about Number Seven. I could write for hours on all the things we did, but I won't.

Her possessed mother sold her to the demon master as a sort of payment. I don't know what the debt was for, or how much, but that's what she was.

Number Seven was twelve and terrified. I do not know all the people who made up Numbers Four through Six. I'm not even sure if Master went in order when he numbered his servants. Most likely, there was some sort of odd system he followed, Nine being demons, Eight being guards, and Number Seven, who was different. He was twisting her, making her less human. Not as much as he changed Number Nines, but about the same as he did Number Eights, except she was female, so she couldn't be a Number Eight.

I had been there a little more than a year already when she arrived, so she clung to me. It was easier than clinging to our other rival, the cannibalistic demon-boy, Number Nine. We basically grew up together.

We were more than friends; we were more like sisters. I didn't remember my sister then and I don't think I treated Number Seven incredibly lovingly. I had been down there only a year, and it had already corrupted me. I was cold, I was sarcastic, and I was rude. I'm not saying I'm any better now. You are really the only person I've been around enough to influence my behavior, and while I do act a little more like a human being, you certainly didn't teach me any social skills.

Over the years I knew her, Number Seven changed a lot. When I was thirteen, three years after she came, she was simply depressed. She was never happy, not even when we tortured Number Nine by using his less-than-genius, instinctive intellect to have him run around for hours on end, chasing nothing, much like a person who pretends to throw a dog's toy, but actually hides it, causing the dog to search for something that isn't missing.

Number Seven had gotten this idea that the demon master was evil—completely true—and that she was going to kill him, which would have been suicide.

"Number Seven, have you lost your mind?" I remember saying. "You can't kill him!"

"Yes I can, and I'm going to tonight. Will you help me?"

"I can't!"

"Don't be a wimp." She crossed her arms and glared at me.

"Number Seven, listen to me," I said, exasperated. "You're going to get yourself killed! Think. How many guards does he have? And how powerful is he?"

"Well...he's not omniscient," she said indignantly.

"He doesn't have to be. Only telepathic enough to know when you're coming and what you plan to do. Do you not agree that he's that powerful? You know he'll find out and kill you before you even try to kill him. Besides, how do you know he's even mortal?"

"Well...umm..."

"Exactly. Come on. Let's go find something to eat." Number Seven's favorite pastime was eating, kind of like you, only not as much.

I grabbed her wrist and led her along.

"Just as long as we stay away from Number Nine," she quipped. "You don't even want to know what he eats."

"It can't be worse than the people he used to."

"I don't know about that, he's pretty gross..."

Later, just before I went to sleep that night, the demon called me. Obediently, I raced to his dais. Oddly enough, there was another figure standing beside his dragon-shaped pallet. I scrutinized the gray-haired man. He also had a certain power emanating from him, not as much as the demon master, but I could almost hear the souls he imprisoned screaming. A necromancer, I realized.

"Who's this?"

*My most trusted and ingenious lieutenant, Number Two, also known as Shang Tsung.* 'Trusted' doesn't mean much with demons, by the way. They can't trust their peers after a century as much as you trusted me after a week.

I bowed to the odd man.

"I'm honored to meet you, Mileena," he said, in his annoyingly charismatic voice.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, nice meeting you, Mileena."

"Number Three." I wondered if necromantic power had a negative effect on one's sanity.

"Pardon?"

"I am Number Three."

"I like Mileena better."

"If you insist..." I've never understood why he insisted on calling me "Mileena." He still does, and it bothers me, but I've kind of gotten used to it.

*Number Three, there is a problem that needs taking care of.*

"What is it, Master?" I turned my attention away from the sorcerer.

*Number Seven. She wants to kill me.* I swear my heart almost stopped beating. *You should kill her for me.*

"Yes, Master," I managed, trying to control my fear, and come up with something demonic to say. "She's...a little whore, anyway."

"I like this girl," commented Tsung. "Can I have her?"

*No, she's my prodigy.*

"But, I really want her. Maybe we can work something out..."

*Later.* He turned to me. *Tonight, Number Three.* He gestured for me to leave, and turned his attention back to the Shang Tsung.

I slowly plodded away, oblivious to the underworld around me. Number Seven and I didn't always get along, but I could never have justified killing her. I tried to come up with a plan.

As soon as I was out of view of the evil master, I raced to Number Seven's sleeping area, and punched her sleeping figure in the small of her back. She sat up, startled.

"What'd you have to go and plan his murder for?" I whispered fiercely. "Now I have to kill you!"

She scooted away from me, and wrapped her arms around her knees, fearfully. "You're not going to, are you?"

"Of course not. What do you think I am? Now get out of here."

"I have to get my stuff."

"No, just go."

"My knife." She picked it up off her table. She had this thing that when you threw it, spun like a helicopter's blades and returned like a boomerang. It was really kind of cool.

"Go. Now!"

"Okay, I'm gone." She ran toward the ropes that led out of the underworld, and climbed up as fast as she could. I watched her until she reached the top, vaguely wondering where they led.

Then I made up a story of how I broke her neck and cremated her, burning a few small animals that I found to ashes for good measure. Number Nine didn't always eat everything he killed. And he didn't always kill everything he ate.

Silently, I walked to my bed and tried to sleep.

After Number Seven left, I found myself, once again, alone in the Underworld. I practiced my fighting skills, for I had nothing else to do. A year later, I went on my first mission. I was fourteen.

Some sort of political leader was visiting Wuqiao County, in China. I don't even remember who it was, though I think he was maybe pushing for an anti-Communist movement. Master wanted him dead for some reason I've never known. Anyway, as you probably already knew, Wuqiao is called the capital of Chinese acrobatics. I got myself a job as a waitress for the reception the leader was having, when I found myself staring at one certain display in the middle of the square. A man was standing there, with his six-year-old daughter rolled backwards into a circle, holding her ankles, hanging on his arm.

I saw an image in my mind, like I was watching the television.

A tall thin man was holding up a small, raven-haired girl. She was bent backwards around his, holding her ankles, and forming an almost perfect circle.

The audience applauded, a woman in the first row, wearing only white, her hair in a French braid, and her baby son on her lap, extra hard. The two performed some other simple contortionist tricks, and the girl broke a pine board with a high axe kick.

I saw another scene, presumably one that took place before the previous.

"Papa?" the little girl said, "I want to be like my mother."

"Well," he replied, "she was a great acrobat. And a marvelous martial artist. Do you want to try those things?"

"Yes," said the girl, eager to be like her mother.

I woke from my daydream, at the insistent prompting of another of the waitress girls. She told me to go get a glass of tea for the leader. It was so easy. The tea was isolated from the performance. I swiped one, and slipped my little tube of iocane powder into it. Immediately after serving the cup to the leader, I disappeared. Iocane works rather quickly, and I didn't want to be anywhere near him when he suddenly dropped dead.