Hollow

Disclaimer: I do not own Mortal Kombat X or any of its characters; all of this belongs to Ed Boon, John Tobias and Netherrealm Studios. I only own the plot.

To endure broken promises, you might as well be shot by a bullet.

It was a bitter expression, though only the Elder Gods knew where Kung Jin first heard or saw the phrase. Maybe it was from one of many ancient texts that the Shaolin monks kept in their archives; maybe it was from a lame and totally obscure romance-action-comedy film that Cassie Cage made him watch simply because her father was playing the heroic protagonist. Perhaps it was poetic mush that Takeda spewed up when he tried to court Jacqui Briggs "the old-fashioned way."

"'Cause I'm sure her old man - er, I mean, Mr Briggs - would appreciate my efforts," the telepath had told him.

Or maybe - just maybe - the adage was uttered by the very man who promised him so many things.

The man, with his aura of disconcerting quiet as well as a hidden tenderness, who would murmur things into his ears, things that would melt the ice lingering in the chambers of anyone's heart and would definitely make even an (ahem) experienced person blush from the tips from his ears down to his toes.

"Sweet nothings", an outsider would call it, but for Jin, they were words that bound them. Cemented the strange yet … addictive thing that had blossomed between them for some ungodly reason.

This man … he said he'd never hurt me …

… the man who stared at him with half-lidded, dark-blue eyes through a haze of smoke that spiraled out of the barrels of his unholstered revolvers.

Jin merely stared back at Erron Black, trying not to look down at the floor where the bodies of his friends lay in a heap, dividing the two men.

Dividing … breaking apart … same thing. So painful.

Cassie's designer shades were obliterated, lying in shards near her face - the only part of her body not coated in blood. The actor's daughter with a face of a star who'll be living large, she would boast; even in death, her face held a peaceful, fair and star-like glow.

One of Jacqui's arms was slung over Takeda's waist, her fingers splayed over his lower back as if she were comforting him. The telepath's bloodied mouth was contorted into a smile, as was the girl's; Jin ascertained - hoped - that the couple, unable to physically form words, bid their farewells together in their shared thoughts before they departed this world for the next in a most tragic and Shakespearean fashion …

He didn't give them a chance …

He didn't give me a chance to say goodbye …

Erron's eyes appeared to soften as he watched Jin's head dip, shutting his eyes tight in a bid to stop whatever tears threatened to fall, his hands balling up into clenched fists.

"Junior …" he muttered.

"How long, Black?" Jin hissed, his eyes flying open, flames dancing in his orbs. "How long ago were you paid to kill them?"

Erron seemed to hesitate, tempted to offer a white lie. But between him and the Shaolin monk, lies were not going to serve any purpose …

"Tell me!" Jin barked.

Not anymore.

"Two months ago," the gun-slinger finally answered.

Jin felt a sudden and painful tug at his heart upon hearing those three words.

"Two months ago," he repeated lowly. "Two out of three months since we've known each other, you've been planning to kill my friends? Biding your precious, damn time when you were busy fu-"

"The deal was only finalised two months ago," Erron cut in sharply. "My employer approached me on the matter a whole month before we … got acquainted."

The Shaolin monk growled, his anger rising.

"Four months is even better!" he yelled. "You've been telling me nothing but lies and screwing me around, Black, when all this time Kotal Kahn wanted you to wipe out my team! Are you gonna deny it?!"

"Jin -" Black tried to speak.

"Is that what was on the back of your mind," Jin cried now, his voice breaking, "every time you told me that you wouldn't hurt me? That you promised that you wouldn't dare to harm me?"

He gestured angrily at his fallen comrades.

"Then what the hell do you call this?!" he snarled, the flames in his orbs slowly changing to salty tears. "How is this not hurting me, Black? What can you possibly say to this, huh?! What can you say?!"

He stared at Erron, slightly out of breath, his vision blurring as the water-droplets pooled in his eyelids.

The gun-slinger's voice was soft when he spoke, but the truth of his words were so heavy and sharp that it felt as if Jin was being stabbed:

"Jin, you were supposed to die, too."

"W-what …?"

Erron lowered his eyes. "That was the original deal four months ago: kill you, Cage, Takahashi and Briggs."

He paused, looking back up at the Shaolin's mystified face.

"I managed to convince Kotal Kahn to spare you," he revealed. "I argued, I pleaded, I raised hell … 'til he finally agreed two months ago to let you go …"

Erron paused again, his eyes falling on the bodies. "But not them."

Jin gaped at him, feeling yet another painful tug at his heart.

Only this time, it managed to splinter the organ into two very broken pieces.

Broken … divided … same thing … so painful …

"You …" he stammered, his tears free-falling to the ground. "You were going to kill all of us?"

Erron did not answer immediately. Instead, he holstered his guns and walked across the room until he was standing in front of the crying Shaolin. It was only when he leaned in to brush the tears away with his fingertips that he whispered in the younger man's ear, "I promised I wouldn't hurt you, Jin."

He pressed their foreheads together, soft dark-blue eyes staring intently into his.

"A deal's a deal, and a promise is a promise," he added. "I kept both of them. You're still alive."

Yet, as far as Jin was concerned, as he stared into those lapis-lazuli orbs, he heard nothing. Nothing, but empty words.

It did not matter what Erron could say, nor what he had said.

He did hurt him.

He did break his promises.

What he said no longer bound them:

It broke them.

As Kung Jin's fingers floated over both of an unaware Erron Black's revolvers, ready to pull them out, the phrase that he heard or saw somewhere came back with a vengeance:

To endure broken promises, you might as well be shot by a bullet.

Same thing - both painful.

A/N: I'm a despicable human-being. T_T On Tumblr, I did a prompt whereby someone asked me to write something based on any song they chose in my 93-song music library. They chose #90, and it happened to be (of all things) Jason Derulo's "Whatcha Say". Then it all went angsty from there ...

A bit of a cliffie, but I'll let your imaginations decide what happened next. "Russian Roulette" will come soon. :)

Reviews are welcome!

*~AI07~* :)