A/N: This takes place a few years after Mortal Kombat: Legacy.

Deacon City.

It was a cold, winter night. Every night was like this, even in the summer. This was worse than usual though.

The cold was biting her skin. Why did she choose to wear this kind of outfit on this night of all nights? That bastard of a CEO was the reason, she knew. Didn't matter in the end, she supposed. After all, she got the promotion. But she still needed to get home.

She couldn't afford to be seen by anyone that might… A piece of paper floated along the current of the wind. It howled in her ear, almost as if it's whispering that it's coming to get her. Even though it was freezing cold, she was beginning to sweat.

"Get it together, Misty," she told herself. "You're fine, there's nothing to worry about."

It wasn't a smart idea to walk home in her outfit. She was a white woman, blond hair, attractive features, and long legs. Her plump, red lips looked pouty, and any overly curious man or woman might be able to get to have some "fun" with her. Her breast size was rather large, an alluring trait for any potential attacker.

Covering her was a red dressed and a brown coat. The skirt she was wearing stopped short, barely stopping halfway down her thigh. It tended to ride up when she walked. Misty knew this. It helped tremendously with getting her the job. Not so much when she's walking down a darkly lit street.

She looked around. Misty was about to make a very bad decision. But it would be quicker getting to her apartment this way and, of course, there wasn't a single taxi or bus in the area. She sighed, seeing the vapor of her breath in the air.

She turned into an alley.

She carefully made her way through the alleyway. She couldn't see anybody else with her, so that was a good sign.

But the very audible cocking of a gun stopped her cold.

Her eyes went wide as she slowly turned around to see a skinny, shivering homeless man pointing a gun at her. This is exactly what she was afraid of. Why didn't she just take the long way around.

The man looked to be freezing. He had a stocking cap, a worn out leather jackets, and a pair of holey jeans. The hand holding the gun was shaking. Most people could see that he had no intention of pulling the trigger. Just a very desperate man looking for something, more than likely money.

But that didn't mean he wouldn't. Those eyes showed that he had killed before. Misty took a step back, as the man said, "I don't want trouble. J-just… give me the money in the bag."

She looked from his eyes to his gun then back again. She didn't want to give him any money. Why should she? She earned it. So, thinking quickly and with what information she knew, she step forward.

She smiled and said, "How about instead of giving you my money, I…" She unbutton her coat to reveal her ample cleavage. "...take you someplace warmer?"

The man's eyes quickly glanced down before jumping back to meet her in the eye. "I don't… I don't want you. I just want the money."

Mist frowned. She wasn't giving up her money. Why wasn't this guy going for her? She opened her mouth to say something, but a form landed inbetween them.

It seemed to come from nowhere. Just a large black shape landing between them, causing the shivering many to flinch and back off. Misty could barely move, much less make a noise.

The shape began to stand to it's full size, towering above both Misty and the man with the gun. The figure turned to face Misty. She gasped. It wore a gas mask, a black trenchcoat, and two blades on his back that ended in hooks. She couldn't tell, but it looked like the thing was glaring at her.

It turned to face the man, whose eyes bugged out of his head. "Y-You… It's you… I saw you on the new… You're not supposed to be real."

The thing in the coat barely moved for a moment before, in a flash, he slapped the gun from the man's hand and sent a fist into his nose. The man feel to the ground unconscious.

Misty sighed with relief, but then she stiffened when the figure rounded on her. It was definitely a man, but she couldn't see any skin or any features other than shoulder length black hair. That only made him that much more intimidating. She looked between the two men before nodding.

"I recognize you. You're that… vigilante. Kabal, right?"

Kabal didn't respond.

"Well… thank you. Although, personally, I think you shouldn't let him breath."

Misty spit towards the fallen man, past Kabal. The masked man stood stock still, not flinching. Until he tilted his head. "He was desperate. He wasn't going to kill you. I could see it from the rooftops."

He then went back to glaring at Misty. "I don't see your excuse though."

Misty's eyes raised. "Wha-"

Before she could finish, Kabal rushed her, his hand closing around her neck. He lifted her up, her legs dangling in the air, and just stared at her. Misty tried to speak, but Kabal just applied a bit more pressure. It just came out in a strangled cry.

She clawed at his arms for a brief moment before she went limp. Kabal reached over and felt her neck. There was a pulse. She would be out for a little while. Good. He threw her over his shoulder and scaled the building.

The smell is what woke her up. Cigarettes mixed with alcohol along with the natural musk of dried blood. It was repulsive.

Misty shook her head awake to find herself in a dark room. She tried to move, but she found herself tied down to the chair. She began to sweat and tears fell down her face. She shouted, "HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!"

"No one's helping you," a voice in the dark said.

Misty tried to turn around, but a folder was dropped in her lap. It was thick and rather heavy. What was this? She grabbed the folder with some effort. She had to twist her arm at an awkward angle because of the bonds holding her to the chair.

She flipped it opened and gasped. "W-what is this?"

"Michael Jefferson. Age 37. When he died, anyway."

Misty tried to look behind her, but wasn't able to see Kabal. She turned back to look at the man on the picture before turning another page. Another picture.

"Kyle Martin." Kabal came out of the shadows with one of his hook swords. "Age 42 at the date of death. Want to know what these two men have in common?"

Misty shook her head.

"They were both your ex-husbands. In fact, they went missing while you were still married. Could have been a coincidence." He turned the next page himself. "If not for the other four men that have went missing while married to you."

Misty began shaking. How could he have…? She kept that secret. She hid the evidence incredibly well. She changed her name, she switched cities, how did he find out? "You…" She couldn't find the words.

"You killed six men. Poisoned them slowly over time before hiding the bodies," Kabal added, flipping another couple pages. Toxicology reports, missing persons information. "I've spent a long time building enough evidence. I've been keeping tabs on you for about two months now, ever since the last one died."

"I-I can explain," Misty began, tears starting to fall from her eyes. "They… they abused me. They hurt me everyday, they-"

"No," Kabal bluntly replied. "They didn't. Maybe they were complete scumbags, but I found no evidence that they hurt you in any physical or mental form." He flipped another page. It was a close up of a heavily bruised face. "Erin Henrikson. Your third husband. After he fell over dead, it looks like someone had their fun with his corpse."

Misty then screamed, "I didn't kill them! How could I?! I'm a functioning member of society! Yeah, that's right, I'm normal. A person! And even if I did, so what? What right do you have?! You kill people left and right when they don't agree with you. It's just because I'm a wo-"

"Shut up," Kabal replied, leveling the sword at her. "That's not what this is about. You're completely missing the point. I kill those who have no chance of redemption. That's why that mugger is still breathing." He pressed the blade against her throat. "But you?"

She was crying uncontrollably now.

"You won't be so lucky."

"P-please. I didn't…," she choked out. Maybe he could see reason. He was a hero, right? Heroes don't kill innocent women begging? She didn't kill them. How could she? She was a respectable person. A normal human being. This folder was a lie.

"Didn't what? 'Mean to?'

She was barely about to say, "I'm so sorry." Her sobs wouldn't let her.

Kabal snorted. "No. You're sorry you got caught."

He raised his sword. Misty was about to say something, but remained silent after Kabal brought the sword down with one swift strike. A small amount of blood splattered on Kabal, staining his coat. He placed the blade on his back before snorting in derision.

Another murderer gone. The world will truly weep for her. Kabal noted how she wasn't even the first person to try to pull that "wouldn't hit a woman" crap on him. What made people think that something like that would work whatsoever?

Kabal slipped his mask off, and clipped it to his belt. Reaching over into his pocket, he pulled out a carton of cigarettes. He sighed, before a cough erupted from his lungs. The carton fell from his hand and landed on the ground, causing the contents to scatter on the floor.

Pain shot up and down his lungs. Kabal clutched his chest and fell to the ground on his hands and knees, coughing violently. Blood stained his lips and the floor. It stopped after a few moments, uneasy breaths coming from his mouth. He wiped off any remaining blood, picked up the nearest cigarette and stuck it in his mouth.

Kabal got to his feet and let out one final cough. He looked around the room, checking for any last minutes precautions. He pulled out a lighter, lit his cigarette and walked out of the room. There was one less piece of scum in this world.

His work was done for today.