Chapter 2: The Forest
No one really notices when the trees start to change. They just suddenly find themselves surrounded by this strange sight. Johnny and Kung Lao stare, hunched in on themselves in a vague sense of unease, but Haisley gazes at the trees in awe.
"They have faces," she notes softly. "Faces and…glowing eyes."
"This reminds me of Wicked Planet," Johnny tells the group. "We had this forest in the second act –."
"The manticore battle?" Kenshi asks.
"Yes!" Johnny is elated at the recognition, grinning proudly at the memory. "Ugh, it was a pain to shoot, but man! – did it come out epic."
Kenshi also grins. "I can picture it exactly."
Touched by Kenshi's knowledge of his work, Johnny smiles gently back at his friend, even though he can't see his expression.
"This is the Living Forest," Baraka announces solemnly.
"Aren't all forests living, Baraka?" Kung Lao asks, slightly tongue-in-cheek, but the Tarkatan sets him straight.
"No others have trees that house the souls of the dead."
The Earthrealmers are all astounded, but differ in their reactions; Kenshi is no more disorientated than he is already, Haisley's awe is intensified, but Kung Lao and Johnny are more unnerved.
"Wh-whoa, wait a tick," the film star stammers, glancing around him uneasily before lowering his voice. "We're talking ghosts?"
"Good ones, not evil," Baraka assures him.
"Can't you feel it, Cage?" Haisley murmurs almost to herself. "This isn't like the graveyards back home; there's no oppressive sense of loss or regret. This is…peace, and respect."
She strays from the path a few steps towards a particular face. She smiles at it, as if greeting an old friend, placing a hand reverently on its massive cheek. The others pause, frowning, unsure about her actions. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in.
"Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear,
Sé mo Chaesar, ghile mear,
Ní fhuaras féin aon tsuan ná séan
Ó chuaigh i gcéin mo ghile mear."
Her voice assimilates into the forest air itself, as clear but ethereally pervasive as the oxygen in their hushed breaths. Her living audience stares at her, attempting to reconcile the mischievous and energetic Earthrealmer with the serene and respectful woman with the beautiful voice before them. As the rest of the group would rest comfortably in their trance for a while yet, a rustling echoes as a wave through the trees, some otherworldly rushing sound warping the air around them. Haisley opens her eyes and glances around the branches, grinning.
"I think they like my singing."
"Who wouldn't?"
Her gaze returns to her companions at Kenshi's comment, startled by their wide-eyed awe. She shuffles. "What?" They're all surprised by her obvious discomfort, the self-consciousness so incongruent to the unfaltering, energetic confidence she's displayed thus far.
"If any music directors tell me they're looking for a vocalist who sounds, quote, 'hauntingly beautiful', I'm getting them to give you a call," Johnny states.
Haisley coughs out a laugh and rolls her eyes, but continues to look almost shy, her pale grey eyes averted and mainly focused on the trees or forest floor.
"Those words," Syzoth frowns, wary, "was that the language of some sorcery?"
She laughs, and Syzoth immediately relaxes at her reaction. "No, that's just Irish Gaelic, an ancient language spoken in my region of Earthrealm." She gazes off into the distance, her smile slipping. "Which is steadily dying out as time goes on. People are instead sticking to the more common language that we're speaking now."
"That's a shame," he responds. "It sounded almost melodic in itself." Haisley smiles gently in grateful agreement.
"What does it mean?" Kung Lao asks.
She pauses for so long they begin to wonder if she even heard the question. But eventually, running her thumb along the outside of her left forearm through her long-sleeved jacket, she answers.
"It talks about…heroes," she says quietly, falteringly, "and protectors, and being welcomed home after long battles." She gives a small shrug, turning to Baraka and Syzoth. "It just seemed fitting for this place, these people."
For the first time since their meeting, Syzoth smiles, its warmth and sincerity so in-keeping with his character yet still catching her off-guard. Despite his frightening Tarkatan exterior, Baraka's red eyes shine clearly with his gratitude.
"Thank you for your tribute to our dead," Baraka dips his head meaningfully, and Haisley smiles and nods back.
"We should keep moving," Kung Lao advises.
"Sure," Haisley agrees. "Sorry for the side-track."
Johnny grins as she gracefully skips to in front of him and Kenshi again, resuming her self-assigned duty of clearing the path.
"You two know anybody here?" Johnny asks the Outworlders, much more comfortable with the forest after Haisley's approved introduction.
"Some distant relatives," Baraka nods.
Syzoth, however, hesitates briefly before answering: "You will find no Zaterrans." His voice is just slightly mournful, regretful, and the Earthrealmers frown upon hearing it.
Kenshi is the one brave enough to pose the question: "Why not?"
"Warm bloods don't welcome us," Syzoth sighs. "So we keep to ourselves, living underground in Zikandur province."
"Then how did you meet Shang Tsung?" Kung Lao asks.
"That I could take human form made me a freak among my people. I was…terrorised and run out," the Zaterran replies, his voice haunted as he undoubtedly relives moments he would rather forget. "Starving and beggared, I joined a travelling carnival. Turned out there are many who would pay good money to see my…'gift'." He sneers the word bitterly before continuing. "Back then, Shang Tsung was a huckster. We crossed paths and he saw what I could do. When he began to learn real sorcery, he asked to study me. When I declined, he took my family hostage." His fists clench as he leads the group.
"Well, there's an offer you can't refuse," Johnny scowls.
"Cac-ithe péist," Haisley spits.
"No idea what you said, kid, but I one hundred percent agree."
"He is dangerous," Syzoth warns them. "And he has plans. He, General Shao, Rain, they are conspiring."
"To do what?" Kenshi asks.
Syzoth exhales sharply, frustrated. "I can't say for certain. I've only overheard fragments."
Haisley raises a hand. "Uh, can someone please give a who's who of those weird-ass names for those of us who weren't invited that class?"
"General Shao is the leader of the Outworld army," Kenshi explains.
Johnny raises an eyebrow at Haisley. "He's like a walking bingo card for a stock villain."
Haisley grins as she takes the bait, ticking things off on her fingers. "Sharp teeth? Red eyes? Scales? Big horns? Such a large figure that you think he might be compensating for something?" As Johnny nods to all her suggestions – and smirks at the last one – she shakes her head. "Jesus wept, how tedious."
Syzoth glances over his shoulder. "I suppose I should be thankful my Zaterran form doesn't have horns then, should I?"
Haisley's eyes widen as she laughs. "Oh, shit, I didn't even think of that." She narrows her eyes as she tilts her head to regard him. "Then again, you have none of the other markers for a villain."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, you don't have the overdeveloped need to dominate, demean or destroy everything," Haisley shrugs before grinning and pointing back in the direction of the laboratory. "You couldn't even be a decent villain when someone was making you."
Syzoth huffs a surprised laugh and rolls his eyes.
"But, yeah, you also don't have the horns or the compensation tactic going on."
"I'm not entirely sure what you mean by the 'compensation tactic'," Syzoth frowns.
Haisley giggles. "Just take it as a compliment. What about this Rain guy?"
"Mage of the imperial court," Kung Lao explains. "Apparently, his control with water is unparalleled."
Haisley turns her head slowly to stare at him with an incredulous expression. "And he's called Rain?"
"Pretty sure he chose the name," Johnny nods.
"And he couldn't choose something more original?" Haisley is almost horrified, and the film star laughs. She rakes a hand through her thick, deep-brown waves to push them out of her face. "They really are saving every brain cell available for this plan of theirs, aren't they? Let's hope they're as good at scheming as they are at being subtle."
"Somehow, I don't see our fortune being that favourable," Syzoth smiles in amusement.
"'Let's hope'?" Johnny echoes Haisley, smirking at her. "You're getting invested in this, huh, kid?"
She smirks back confidently. "I'm an investigative journalist, Cage," she explains. "I hear the words 'conspiracy' or 'corruption' and I am all over it. I live and breathe this shit. If anything, you guys need me."
Syzoth glances at her, intrigued. "I'm not familiar with what I assume is the title of your profession. What do you do as an 'investigative journalist'?"
"Basically, I sniff out then gather evidence of hidden corruption, then shout it from the rooftops, letting the general populace have their own opinions about, for example, secret laboratories of inhumane experimentation. Or New York tax-payers' money being spent by those in power – not on improving public services, like the tax-payers hope and expect, but on funding their own illegal dog-fighting ring."
"Wait, that was you?" Johnny raises his eyebrows at her. She simply winks, and he gives an impressed smile in response. "Damn."
"Sounds like you're a professional troublemaker," Kenshi smirks in her direction.
She laughs. "Oooh, I like that. I'll be sure to stick that on my business cards." Then she sobers. "I deliver the trouble that these bastards are asking for, and give the opportunity for those that they exploit to get payback." She lifts her left arm to rub at the outer forearm. "All it takes is one person being brave just once, and suddenly people are given their lives back."
"A noble sentiment and cause," Baraka congratulates her, though, given his position, Johnny is the only one to catch the sadness behind her answering smile.
A distant roar slices through the silence of the forest, and Syzoth and Baraka at the front of the group both tense defensively before Syzoth suddenly shifts, his Zaterran form hissing before charging through the trees towards the sound. His actions had prompted Baraka's own aggression, and the Tarkatan follows him with his blades drawn. Haisley calls out to them warningly as they dart ahead.
"Wait, are you sure you just want to –" She sighs and sags as they show no signs of stopping. "– rush ahead? Does testosterone just make you stupid?"
Johnny shrugs. "I mean, historical evidence kind of points to 'yes'."
She glances back at them as she starts to jog after them. "I'll try and make sure they don't get themselves killed. You guys catch up when you can."
Luckily, the ongoing roars and snarls act as beacon for the whereabouts of the eager warriors, and she easily leaps or dodges over any large obstacles, grateful not for the first time in her life for her childhood penchant for free-running and urban exploration. She comes upon a clearing littered with the blood, corpses and severed body parts of monstrous-looking creatures, and arrives just in time to see the white-clad woman in the middle of it all sneer at Baraka and Syzoth, ten feet or so in front of Haisley.
"Quan Chi sends more demons?!" she demands, indignant, before sprinting towards the pair.
Baraka attempts to defuse the situation. "Wait, we're not –."
But the woman has already leapt, her completely black eyes narrowed as part of her white coat snaps out just for a moment into what look like wings, and she collides with Syzoth, kicking him to send him flying heavily back a good six feet.
"Syzoth!" Haisley calls to him and rushes to his side with wide eyes as Baraka squares up to the woman, ready to defend both himself and his new friend.
"With each of you I kill, my absolution grows nearer," the woman promises. "Shedding your blood brings me closer to the light."
The rings and crunches of Baraka and the woman meeting in battle echo throughout the clearing as Haisley helps Syzoth to sit up.
"Bitch," Haisley glares at the woman, starting to dash to help Baraka, but a scaled hand clasps her wrist.
"Wait." Syzoth's hand and breathy request keep her at his side, and his form shimmers as he shifts back into human form. She's momentarily disorientated as the feel of his hand on her arm changes between his scales and his gloves and skin. He glances at her as he pushes himself further up onto his haunches, apparently spared from serious harm.
"She called us 'demons'," he explains. "I'm not sure she is a foe; I think she has just confused us for hers."
"We still need to calm her down and stop her doing a slice-and-dice like she's done with these poor sods," Haisley nods to the carnage on the ground. Her eyes dart around as she searches for environmental advantage, and spies one up on the trees. She gestures towards a nearby branch. "Can you get me up there?"
Following her gaze, he manoeuvres ready to boost her upwards. "Do I want to know what kind of trouble you've concocted?"
"You'll find out soon enough," she grins at him before leaping towards him. She's slightly embarrassed by the small startled yelp she emits as Syzoth flings her upwards with seemingly little effort on his part. She grasps the branch with wide eyes, hauling herself onto it.
"I guess the answer was 'yes'; you can get me up here," she murmurs breathlessly to herself before calling down to him. "Keep her busy, I'll be with you shortly."
As Syzoth shifts again and rushes to stand against the woman, Haisley keeps a low stance as she hurries along the branch, clambering, shimmying and leaping through the trees, muttering a "Sorry, sorry, excuse me" to the face in the tree as she uses its nose as a foothold. As she approaches what she spotted from the ground, she grins in glee.
On the forest floor, Baraka blocks the woman's sword with one of his own blades, slicing at her with the other one to force her to duck and step away, while Syzoth lunges at her to throw her further off balance. The pair continue to fend her off, doing as little damage as possible but striking her any time they need to properly defend themselves. Less than half a minute later, however, they hear a heavy thud from behind them as Haisley drops out of the trees with something in her hand.
"Duck!" she shouts to Syzoth and Baraka.
As soon as they – luckily – obey her command, she hurls her payload at the woman. A ball about the size of her head collides with her face with a surprisingly soft sound given Haisley obviously hopes for it to be a weapon. But as soon as it hits the woman, it bursts in a cloud, and a frantic buzzing erupts into the clearing. The woman hisses and snarls as her vision is obscured by the swarm of startled insects, and she is too distracted swiping at her face to block any of the blows that Baraka deals, and she crumples to the ground, the last of the swarm scattering away into the air. Syzoth shifts into his human form and raises his eyebrows at Haisley.
"Are you always this startlingly resourceful?"
Haisley grins and bows in response, at which he smiles in almost exasperation.
"Whoever you are," Baraka speaks to the woman, "we are not demons."
The mysterious woman regards them warily as she gets to her feet, though it's hard to know where she's looking with her entirely black eyes. The markings around her face – somewhere between tattoos and scars – shift as she frowns.
"If not demons, what are you?" she asks, slowly reaching for her sword, but thankfully not brandishing it openly at them.
"He's Zaterran," Baraka gestures to Syzoth, "I am Edenian. Or I was before my Tarkat affliction."
The woman is aghast. "Outworlders?! Apologies. I'm glad I've caused neither of you permanent injury." She turns to Haisley with an obvious if unstated question, who shrugs.
"I am what I believe you would call an Earthrealmer."
The woman somehow looks even more taken aback, then narrows her eyes in confusion. "Why are you here? How are you here?"
Haisley chuckles in response. "Ah, I've been asking myself those exact questions for the past eighteen hours. I'm not the only Earthrealmer here though; some comrades of ours will be with us soon, and they apparently came a more official route into…" she pauses, glancing at Syzoth for support, "…Outworld?" He nods, smiling encouragingly.
Leaves and grass rustling and twigs snapping announce the approach of the rest of the group, and Haisley turns towards the sound.
"Luckily there's no need for stealth here," she calls out, "because you guys are about as quiet as I am after three whiskeys."
"I might actually like to see that," Johnny's smiling voice comes through the trees. "Especially if you let me record."
"I'd shove the empty bottle up your arse first."
Johnny shrugs as he comes into view. "Can't blame me for trying."
The film-star is shocked as he fully surveys the scene before him, with the heads and viscera of horrifying creatures scattered about the forest floor saturated with their blood. He steels himself to walk through it, keeping as little tension out of his body as possible so his blind companion won't pick up on any changes in his posture or pace. Sadly, there are some things from which he can't protect his friend.
"What is that?" Kenshi asks, wrinkling in nose in repulsion at the scent of something wet and foul in the air.
"Just keep swimming," is Johnny's only tense reply, and he sighs in relief as he clears the worst of the carnage. He gestures to the woman. "So, who's our femme fatale?"
The woman smiles at the group. "I am Ashrah, demon of the Netherrealm."
"Demon?" Johnny echoes. "You look human…" he pauses as he takes in her pitch black eyes and strange facial markings, "…mostly. And what's a Netherrealm?"
"The monks covered that with us," Kenshi sighs. "Did you sleep through every lesson?"
Johnny frowns over his shoulder at his friend. "That one, apparently."
"Once again, friendly reminder that some of us didn't have these lessons," Haisley glares at the other Earthrealmers.
"Netherrealm's hell," Kung Lao explains sombrely, "but real."
Haisley's eyes widen at this revelation, while Johnny neatly sums it up with an amazed, "No shit."
Ashrah observes these interactions in silence before continuing calmly, "I appear nearly human because I have purged most evil from my soul. When I'm done, the last vestiges of my demonic form will fade away." She speaks with incredible pride at the achievement and hope for its completion.
"Why are the demons after you?" Kung Lao asks.
"They were sent by Quan Chi, my former master," Ashrah scowls. "I was part of his Sisterhood of Shadow. He wanted – still wants – dominion over the realms. I renounced him when I realised I could not help him defile them."
"And now he wants you dead," Syzoth sighs in sympathy.
"Precisely."
"Great," Haisley groans. "Another megalomaniac douchebag."
"I followed Quan Chi from the Netherrealm, here," Ashrah explains. "He's building devices that steal souls on a mass scale. He's testing the first on the dead that reside in the forest."
Once again, all humour drains from Haisley's demeanour, replaced with indignant horror. "What?"
"Why steal souls, Ashrah?" Baraka asks.
"To harness their power," she answers. "To what end, I don't know. But I do know that it's to aid the designs of another sorcerer: Shang Tsung."
Haisley swears softly, dragging her fingers through her thick waves and tugging at the roots as she glowers at the ground.
"Dammit," Johnny scowls. "That guy's everywhere."
"You're sure that Quan Chi is here?" Kenshi inquires.
Ashrah holds out her jagged sword, narrowing her eyes as it begins glowing white. "My kriss senses him. He's nearby."
"Nope, no," Johnny puts a hand on Kenshi's chest, anticipating the swordsman's decision. "We're getting you home."
"We have a job to do," Kenshi argues. "Quan Chi could lead us to Shang Tsung."
Baraka steps forward, looking to Johnny. "Your Liu Kang is right; Shang Tsung's a danger that must be dealt with." He turns to Ashrah, places a clawed hand on his chest and bowing slightly. "I will aid you."
Syzoth steps forward resolutely. "As will I."
Johnny sighs, turning to Haisley. "You gonna back me up here, kid?"
She raises her eyebrows. "In case you've forgotten, Cage, we need their help to get back home anyway; where they go, we go. But even if that weren't the case, I'd still vote to help Ashrah." She gestures to the surrounding trees, her eyes steely. "These people deserve their rest, and this Quan Chi bastard wants to just rip them away to serve his own sick and twisted purposes. I'm not ducking out just to leave him to do as he pleases. If there is even the slightest chance I can, I will happily give him hell."
Groaning, Johnny nods. "I guess the ayes have it. Motion carries. Ashrah, lead the way."
She smiles in gratitude before using her kriss to determine Quan Chi's direction, then she leads the group in a determined march.
The group wander further through the trees, on high alert, as the kriss's glow steadily pulses brighter. Ashrah narrows her eyes at it. "Quan Chi is close. The emanations of his evil grow stronger."
"That is a powerful weapon," Baraka comments as he inspects it.
"And my perfect ally," she smiles. "As I smite the evil it finds, I am further purified."
Haisley grins darkly. "I need one of those. It would make my job of finding scumbags so much easier."
Johnny shakes his head with a smirk at Haisley's comment before turning to Ashrah. "Now I've done steps, so I'm all for self-help. But since when does a demoness want to be less evil?"
"I had spent eternity damned to the Netherrealm. I had assumed that's all there was to existence," Ashrah sighs. "But then I saw Earthrealm, saw Outworld. Saw there was a better way to live. And that to have it, I needed to cleanse my soul." She frowns. "My sister demons were furious at my change of heart. Kia and Jataaka were the first to hunt me."
"Quan Chi is also a demon?" Syzoth tilts his head.
Ashrah shakes her head. "Actually, he's an Outworlder. But he mastered the dark magic needed for unfettered travel to my realm."
Haisley hums. "I wonder if Shang Tsung learnt from him how to get to Earthrealm." She tuts and swipes at her face as a large insect reminiscent of a daddy-longlegs flutters in her face, and she wafts it away. A hand with brown fingerless gloves whips in front of her to pluck the insect straight out of the air, but before she has time to thank Syzoth and tell him how impressive that was, he brings his fingers to his mouth, stuffing the wriggling creature inside and swallowing gleefully.
She bursts out laughing in surprise. "Wow, that was disgusting."
Syzoth, ever honest, blinks in surprise, his brows furrowing in sheepishness and concern. Still chuckling, she pats him comfortingly on the shoulder.
"Don't worry," she laughs. "I should have expected the giant lizard to eat live insects."
Put at ease by her own easiness, he rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "Zaterran."
Johnny attempts to bring the conversation back to something more informative. "Any idea how he buddied up with Shang Tsung?"
"They share a common benefactor," Ashrah explains. "She plucked them both from obscurity, taught them everything they know. I've never met her, but there's no question she's a sorceress beyond compare." Her kriss starts pulsating audibly, and then all tense.
"Quan Chi is near," she murmurs.
They proceed more cautiously through the trees, and as chanting eventually drifts towards them. Keeping to the greenery, they peer into a clearing with a number of occupants, one of whom is the one chanting and gesticulating at some kind of altar. The base of this alter looks to be regular if jagged metal, but offshoots from it that curl upwards are horrifyingly similar to chains of skulls. Contained between these curls, an ominous green energy shifts and warps, pulsating more strongly with power, the green aura reflecting ominously off the sorcerer's dark skin. He turns to the group.
"I am ready for your contributions," he announces.
One woman with a shock of red hair and bat-like wings steps forward immediately, handing a large red gem of some kind.
"Excellent, Nitara," the sorcerer congratulates the woman before turning to a heavy-set man in more military clothes. "I need yours as well."
The military man glances at his own red gem, back at his companion dressed in something like a jumpsuit, then steps towards Quan Chi.
"Darrius and I have been thinking, sorcerer…" He spits out the word with suspicion.
Despite the size difference, Quan Chi straightens himself up and returns the man's glare with one of his own. "Do not try to renegotiate, Havik."
"We need proof that you'll deliver," Havik growls.
The other woman interrupts the exchange. "That he's delivered for Nitara's Vaeternians is all the proof you need."
The woman with bat wings, Nitara, agrees. "Sareena's right; because of Quan Chi's magic, my realm's people are no longer poisoned by sunlight. We have finally escaped the shadows." She meets Quan Chi's eyes with obvious gratitude and respect.
"Rest assured," Quan Chi turns back to Havik, his voice cloaked in the same smug self-confidence as Shang Tsung's, "the spells you will receive will bring down Orderrealm's government."
"When will we have them, Quan Chi?" Havik demands, gravelly with its hidden aggression and dissatisfaction.
"After the attack on Earthrealm," Quan Chi insists, "which could be called off if the soul stealer's efficacy isn't demonstrated properly."
Havik sighs, and hands over his gem, which Quan Chi pieces together with Nitara's before placing it in an alcove at the base of the altar.
The group glance at each other worriedly.
"Well," Johnny says, "this plot just got thicker."
"You all heard those words, too, right?" Haisley asks, eyes wide if sharp as she glances at each of them. "'The attack on Earthrealm'? They're planning to invade."
"Earthrealm is in grave danger," Ashrah agrees solemnly. "Just one soul stealer can kill hundreds of thousands. If he unleashes a battery of them –"
"Millions will die," Baraka finishes, stepping forward with determination.
"He must be stopped," Kung Lao nods, already sizing up the others in the clearing with Quan Chi.
Ashrah brandishes her kriss in a more offensive stance. "I will deal with Quan Chi. The five of you, subdue the others."
"I work better getting the drop on someone," Haisley informs them. "While you guys take them head on and get their attention, I'll sneak around the side. See if I can't find something to surprise these fuckers."
"I'm sure you'll come up with something," Syzoth shoots an amused look at her, and she smirks in response.
As the others all prepare for the attack, Johnny again places a hand in the middle of Kenshi's chest to stop him moving forward.
"Whoa, there, big fella," the film star halts him. "This stop's where you get off."
Kenshi's shoulder stiffen. "You heard her; millions could die!
"Which is why we don't want you tripping us up out there," Johnny sighs.
Haisley, who lingers out of sight in the nearby undergrowth, grimaces in sympathy. Not the most delicate way of putting it, Cage, but, sadly, possibly the most likely to get through to him.
"Now," Johnny continues, "give me your sword."
"Why?" Kenshi growls, his brow furrowing above his mask in dreaded suspicion.
"Just give it," Johnny commands, exhaling.
Kenshi doesn't resist further, removing the sword from his back with the grace, poise and dignity one would expect from a swordsman of his skill, and presenting it to Johnny on his outstretched hands. As he feels its weight lifted from them, he sags in defeat. But he starts as another weapon is placed in his hands. Confused, he runs his hands over the scabbard and handle, confirming to himself exactly what he's holding.
"What?!" he gasps, his conflicted fingers tightening around his family's legacy. "I can't! Not when you're about to –."
"You saved my life," Johnny interrupts by grasping his friend's wrist, speaking the words weightily. "It's yours." With one last pat on his shoulder, he leaves the Taira's last hope with his lost heirloom.
Haisley doesn't understand the obvious history between Johnny and Kenshi, or the history of the sword that Johnny just took from his own back to give to Kenshi. But she does understand the meaning it holds for Kenshi, with the reverence with which he explores it with his hands. She smiles as she continues her path to surprise Quan Chi from behind.
Mr Hollywood's heart of gold peeks through, she chuckles to herself. And there weren't even any adoring fans for it to be a publicity stunt.
Chapter 2 finished! I have no idea why this fanfic has just got so much traction in my brain. It helps that Haisley is so fun to write.
Anyway, when she began to take form in my mind, Haisley decided that she was Irish. I am not Irish by any stretch of the imagination, and have precisely zero personal experience with the beautiful Irish Gaelic language. As such, I feel I should make it clear to any readers who actually do have knowledge/experience of these things about my limitations and some creative liberties I've taken: I have transcribed the words of Mo Ghile Mear from a lyric website; also the story of Mo Ghile Mear isn't as sad in the fanfic as it is in reality, but that will be explored further later in the fanfic. I hope those liberties I've taken are acceptable to people.