CHAPTER 1: The Forming of the Pact – Damnation vs. Salvation

Of all the demons, hellspawn and malicious souls in the Netherealm, the most feared and terrifying are the Oni. They are many in number and often bizarre in appearance, but each has cultivated a persona that lives up to the cruel and sadistic stereotype that the greater demons have earned. Hell-bound spirits are tortured mercilessly, nothing but playthings for their diabolical games and exercises in cold-blooded savagery. The few mortals that ever enter the realm of fire and damnation, condemned for crimes so inhumane that the afterlife will not have them, are soon found and consumed, often still-living, and no other demon is ever permitted to set eyes upon a mortal before it is reduced to dust and bone. Perhaps they should be called the enforcers of the Netherealm, but all they truly enforce is a ruthless pecking order among the chaos and misery, with themselves undeniably at the top.

Drahmin had not always been an Oni, that much could be seen from his humanoid form and vaguely civilised mannerisms, but at one time his humanity had been stripped away from him, and replaced with immortality. Not that immortality was of any use to him in the confines of the Netherealm. As perfect as it was to indulge the demon's sadistic intent, no one remained in Hell because it was what they wanted. It was most definitely not what Drahmin wanted. He wished to be out in clean air again, away from the noxious black smoke of the underworld, and he wished to eat fresh meat once more. The flesh of mortals in the underworld dried too fast and became like ash in the mouth too soon after death to be truly enjoyed. It was why the demons ate them alive as they did.

The Oni threw down his meat angrily, as the bitter taste of corruption filtered into what had once been a tender mortal female. With hardly a moment past, Drahmin's companion, Moloch, snatched up the morsel and devoured it, bone and all. It did not seem displeased with the taste. Of course, Moloch had always been an Oni, and could not remember something better the way Drahmin could. But the brute's desire to leave the Netherealm was the same; so much similar, in fact, that the once-human had to wonder if he himself had inspired the craving for freedom in his partner.

When the two had first met they had fought over a living mortal, but had settled their short-lived dispute, mainly because Drahmin had been able to introduce the phrase "let bygones be bygones" to the Netherealm. They had talked, or rather, communicated, over their shared meal, and apparently bonded as well as two sadistic and merciless demons could. It had been the taste of the bitter flesh then that had set Drahmin on his tirade against the hell realm, and caused him to explain his desire to return to Outworld. Since then, Moloch had carried the same goal. To be fair, the larger Oni did a lot it had not done before their meeting nowadays. Before it had spoken only in grunts and furious roars, but now words often passed its lips. Granted it was with a very limited vocabulary, and still punctuated with its usual animalistic noises, but it was speaking nonetheless.

Drahmin stood up and stretched while Moloch continued to maul the body lying splayed and half-eaten on the floor. His appearance was as strange as any of his Oni brethren in the Netherealm. He was still humanoid, that much was already explained, but his likeness to a mortal ended there, as his flesh was stripped of skin, leaving him as nothing more than a slab of rotting meat in human shape. He was clothed in an ill-woven loin-cloth for decency's sake and a more practical shoulder guard fashioned from an unnatural metal. Both were part of his Oni form and joined by a web of straps that ran around his body from the armour plate to the belt around his waist. On top of that, his right forearm was encased in a spiked cast of the same metal, a powerful weapon he had been imbued with along with his "gift" of demonhood. The only piece of clothing he wore that was not inexplicably attached to him was the tribal mask he wore over his haggard face, an artefact he had acquired some time after first becoming the monster he now was. It was a useful piece of equipment, as it quelled the near all-consuming rage of his demonic form. It allowed him to think and remember, something that gave him an undeniable advantage over other Oni. It was the only thing that made he and Moloch any different, other than their individual appearances.

Granted the lumbering monster that was Moloch was vaguely human-shaped, it more resembled a massive hairless Gorilla than any ordinary man. Its footsteps shook the earth and it could quite easily pick up a mortal in one of its four-fingered hands. It was a towering abomination, a mountain of flesh and muscle bound in stony grey skin, with three eyes, one centred on its forehead that flashed red on the occasion that it was gripped by the insatiable bloodlust that all creatures of their ilk possessed. At the moment it was a harsh amber, indicating one of those rare occasions when it was afforded clarity of thought, or at least what passed as such for demons. Much like Drahmin, it was clad in its own leather loin-cloth and web of straps, but carried in its left hand something that was not a part of its original immortal form, a heavy metal ball. The vast globe was more than twice the size of a human head and was forged from an iron mined in the mountains of their own hell, and was complete with a chain winding around its arm, up to a collar around its bullish neck. It was a keepsake of its "captivity" at the hands of would-be demon hunters, before it chose to stop humouring them and slaughter them all. As dumb as Moloch was in comparison to its comrade, it was practically Machiavellian when compared with most others of its kind.

And yet, you couldn't tell to see it devour a mortal corpse the way it did. Its hunger was animalistic and its manners appalling, even by the standards of the Oni.

Drahmin stood against the rim of the wide basin of volcanic rock that served as their home, waiting for the brute to finish its meal, when he sensed something. It would be difficult to explain how he sensed this something, so we shall simply say that he caught its scent among the foul and putrid air of the underground inferno. It carried the scent of memories long past, saturated in the other-worldly odours of Earthrealm, Edenia and Outworld, among numerous others. Creatures of the Netherealm had an innate ability to sense things from another plane of existence, and Drahmin was no exception. But what was this thing he was smelling that appealed to him so?

"Do you smell that, Moloch?" he asked, looking down at the monster and its corpse. Looking down at the other creature was a feat, simply because of how big it was ordinarily. Crouching down to devour its meal he still came up to Drahmin's shoulders, but rearing up it rose above him easily. Moloch looked at him, snout covered in blood, and sniffed at the clouded air. Each breath was a low, rasping roar that could have set all mortal teeth in the vicinity precariously on edge.

"Moloch smell other places," it decided after a moment, rumbling the statement in its usual gravely bellow. Drahmin scratched at one of the bulbous sores on his fibrous stomach in thought. It was an odd habit, but the sensation of relieving the furious itching often aided the passage of his thoughts.

"As do I," he confirmed, nodding", but where is it coming from exactly?"

In answer to his question, Moloch pushed itself up onto its feet, standing on its hind legs like a pillar of evil flesh, and casting its eyes about the surrounding walkways. The third eye on the centre of its forehead was not only an indicator of its anger, but a great practical advantage, as it allowed it to see for miles at any one time, heavy smog permitting, many times further than Drahmin could see in the smoky air. After a few moments, it stopped looking around and focussed in one direction. Drahmin craned his neck in the same direction but could barely see over the walls of their crater-like abode. Their lair was high atop one of the larger stone spires, and provided a perfect vantage point from which to spy out fresh mortals.

"Moloch see running, a chase, mortal of magic carrying amulet," the creature rumbled before sinking back to its hands where it was decidedly more comfortable.

"Mortal of magic carrying amulet?" Drahmin repeated, before apparently comprehending and confirming with a nod", the sorcerer. Now what might he be doing so far from his master's right hand? And, judging from the smell, with his master's amulet in his possession."

"Moloch see spawn of hell, Moloch want smash," the lumbering monster reported, this time with a degree more passion in its words. Its eye flashed crimson momentarily and it pounded its metal orb like a closed first into its right palm angrily.

Drahmin raised a festering eyebrow and, with curiosity getting the better of him, pulled himself up the wall of the crater so that he could see over the lip. He could vaguely make out two human shapes, one running from the other. It was quite obvious that the one in the lead was Quan Chi, the sorcerer who served the fallen God Shinnok, at least, if Moloch's summary had been accurate. The other was unknown, but while he radiated the scent of Outworld, this was borne on an undercurrent of bitter emptiness, the stench of the Netherealm that surrounded them manifested in a creature, just like the two Oni. This one was not a mortal, Drahmin new that, but who was he? For a moment, he clung to the edge of the dish, pondering the question he had posed himself. And then, the creeping truth dawned on him. He allowed himself to drop down to the bone-littered floor of their home and ran a withered finger across the scar on his chest idly, in remembrance of something that had happened many years ago.

"Scorpion," Drahmin snarled, his own eyes flashing red behind his mask. Moloch seemed to feed on his companion's anger and growled furiously. For a moment, there was an aura of tangible rage in the lair of the two Oni. The hellspawn ninja had encountered them both in the past on separate occasions, and made them both regret their immortality when they could not die of the wounds he had inflicted upon them. The memories of defeat stirred up hatred in them both, and a lust for vengeance was kindled, though it remained unspoken between them. "Come Moloch," Drahmin commanded, walking across the crater purposefully", I believe we must arrange a meeting with that bastard slave of Shinnok's."

The two Oni stepped down from their nest, dropping onto the empty walkway below. Moloch's feet pounded into the rough stone, leaving footprints amid the debris and sending up a cloud of light dust, while Drahmin landed softly by comparison. The smaller demon led his brutish companion to another ledge further along the walkway and jumped down through a wide hole in the rock surface beneath them. Moloch dropped onto the grey flooring first, and then followed him through the hole into the cave underneath. There was another, similar hole in the floor of the cave that showed yet another stone walkway under their feet. The pursuit would bring the sorcerer and the ninja directly beneath them, and so the demons waited in ambush.

By unspoken agreement, Drahmin withdrew from the centre of the cave, where the hole was, while Moloch took up a position directly over the top of it, watching quietly. For a giant of such immense size, as Moloch undoubtedly was, at times it could move with blinding speed. Which is perhaps why it came as no surprise when there was a moment of blurred motion and Quan Chi appeared in the confines of the stone chamber. He put up a momentary struggle before the monster tossed him into Drahmin's waiting arms. The smaller Oni locked his cast roughly around the sorcerer's chest and clamped his usable hand over his mouth quickly, to stifle any surprise the mortal might wish to express. Having a handful of rotten meat pressed against his lips would likely kill any desire to open them.

The hellspawn ninja, Scorpion, passed below, amber leather woven with gold shining in the fire from the pits below. His armour was adorned with skulls as befitted a creature of the Netherealm, and he carried equipment which, although he had always carried and used it, was truly at home on his demonic form. His spear was the work of a devil's mind, and his swords, although forged for accuracy, precision and near-perfect balance, were only ever used to hammer home his rage in as aggressive a way as possible. He clenched fists, looking from side to side through blank white eyes. His constant scowl did little to dispel the impression that he was an immensely angry soul, and now he had reason, as his quarry had apparently evaded him. Vexed by the sorcerer's disappearance, Scorpion continued along the walkway, the only sensible path for his adversary to have taken.

Drahmin let go of Quan Chi, only for Moloch to grab him in a taloned paw and slam him back-first into the wall of the cave, pinning him to it by his chest. In the dim light, only the Oni, with eyes that could see into the darkest corners, truly knew what was going on, but the sorcerer remained disturbingly silent despite the considerable mental duress he was obviously under. The smaller of the two demons saw their prey's face contorted in a look of quiet horror, sweat streaming down his face, and indeed his whole body, and not just because of the considerable heat that was a constant factor in the realm. Quick on the uptake, Drahmin immediately snatched at the mortal's belt, pulling a round disc of a healthy weight from his hip. He retreated slightly and held it up to the light of the hole in the ceiling, looking once more upon the Amulet of Shinnok.

"Give that back," Quan Chi demanded, finally roused by the loss of his precious medallion. He struggled in the larger Oni's grip feebly, trying to reach for his stolen treasure.

"Silence!" Moloch roared, raising its heavy orb angrily, ready to smash the sorcerer's head like an egg. Drahmin stepped between the two hastily, settling Moloch almost immediately.

"Enough, both of you," he ordered, looking back towards the hole in the floor, before lowering his voice cautiously", we cannot afford for the hellspawn to hear us before our business here is concluded."

"Drahmin?" Quan Chi asked, somewhat incredulously, still wriggling in Moloch's oversized palm, before he collected himself slightly and his surprise turned to anger", I have no business with you, demon bastards."

"Perhaps you would like to be thrown back to the ninja, without your precious little trinket?" Drahmin suggested, only to be greeted by a panic-stricken look and silent pleas in the darkness. Ordinarily, the Oni would have delighted in doing just as he had suggested out of nothing more than spite, but a greater matter required his consideration. "This amulet is a very powerful relic, sorcerer, and I know you can use it to summon a portal leading to Outworld," he said, his proposition obvious before he even made it known", since I lack the capability to make it work, you will use it, and you will take Moloch and I with you when you do."

"I've already tried to use it," Quan Chi said bitterly", the amulet is without influence here, no portals can be opened; you and your friend are out of luck."

"I promise you that we are not," Drahmin informed him, feeling that the sorcerer had enjoyed making his last statement far too much for someone trapped in hell", but since you have brought the topic up, allow me to educate you. As a sorcerer, your power is derived from the essence of Outworld. As with all creatures from other realms, the Netherealm saps that essence from you just as it saps the purity from mortal flesh, and thus you are without power here. On the other hand, our dear friend Scorpion is a derivative of the Netherealm itself, and thus he grows stronger the longer he stays here. The amulet does not have power alone to conjure portals; normally it would require one of great magical prowess to use it, but since your power is weak here you cannot command it as you normally would. However, there is a place far to the North of here where a portal to Outworld can be summoned with the amulet, regardless of your own energy. We will take you there and protect you from your pursuer, and you will take us with you."

Quan Chi dangled for a moment in contemplation, the only sound in the cave made by Moloch, who was growling softly as it always was. Drahmin could see the sorcerer's mouth moving slowly, cursing without words. He was probably unaware that they could see him. "You have a deal," he agreed at last, sounding defeated.

"I had little doubt," the smaller Oni replied, placing the amulet in the palm of the mortal's hand. No sooner had he done so than Quan Chi clamped his fingers around it tightly, perhaps almost possessively. "So what have you done, sorcerer?" Drahmin asked him, as Quan Chi clutched the medallion to his body", why does the hellspawn chase you?"

Quan Chi was silent for a moment, seeming to consider the question like it was immensely complicated and pertained to the meaning of existence. "I killed his family," he said, without a hint of remorse in his voice", and his entire clan."

Moloch gave a soft chuckle at the back of its throat, while Drahmin simply smiled sourly. It was somewhat typical of individuals like Quan Chi to shy from confrontation with those who were stronger than themselves, and then exercise excessive brutality when dealing with those much less powerful. "Perhaps we should have let him kill you after all," the Oni said", it is most fortunate for you that I can stand the taste of ash no longer."

"Odd, I had not thought of myself as fortunate," the sorcerer said, as he arranged the folds of his lower attire and hooked the amulet back in its place on his belt, despite Moloch's oversized hand on his upper torso", but if you truly wish to leave this place, why do you dawdle so?"

Drahmin rolled his neck and began to scratch at the festering sores on his abdomen. He thought deeply for a moment, and realised that he was indeed delaying, but not their journey. There was a question that he wished to ask, an issue that he wished to press, and he knew already that no good would come of it, and yet, he would not allow the trio to move on without addressing the thoughts in his mind. They were memories that contained nothing but spite and anger, bad memories, but nevertheless, if their pact was to come to fruition then he would have to speak his mind.

"One thing troubles me still," the demon said, walking several paces away from the pinned form of the sorcerer and gazing through the hole at an angle, so as to see the fiery river running below", I must admit I am confused as to why you are carrying Shinnok's amulet. Does he not miss it?"

"Shinnok is dead," Quan Chi informed him, matter-of-factly. Drahmin chuckled throatily and scratched at the inflamed flesh on his stomach again in thought.

"I never expected you to have the nerve to turn your back on such a powerful creature, especially considering that he is the only reason that you and I are not in the same position right now," the Oni said", but then again, you always were an ingrate."

"He died through his own foolishness, not through any fault of mine," the sorcerer said, glowering in the darkness", just as he fell from grace through his own ridiculous errors. We were fools to follow someone so convinced of their own perfection, but so obviously flawed."

"And yet, when we two fell with him and were sentenced to an immortality as demons in this terrible place, who did he insist ascend to the realm of the mortals once again to aid in his rise?" Drahmin asked, his voice dripping with venom and ill-contained aggression", when the time came to choose between his High Priest and his Grand Sorcerer, he chose power over loyalty. And you never once complained. You were always the favoured of the two of us. And then you left him condemned to his fate."

"Like he left you?" Quan Chi asked, arching an eyebrow in a silent challenge. Drahmin ground his misshapen teeth for a moment and then ran the distance between his position and the wall, as though he had been seized with a bloodlust akin to Moloch's, and hammered his cast like a fist into the exposed gut of the sorcerer hanging before him. The victim gave an agonised gasp, and even in the darkness the Oni attacker could see the colour of his flesh changing pigment from grey to an angry black tinged with purple.

"You snivelling, cowardly filth," Drahmin cursed", throw him down Moloch, I sicken at the sight of him."

Quan Chi gave a panicked yelp as the lumbering Oni suddenly tore him from the wall and carried him to the hole once more, shaking him like a rag doll as it did. "No, our deal!" the sorcerer begged in frustration. Moloch paused for a moment, awaiting his companion's response.

"The deal has changed," Drahmin told him, snarling through clenched teeth", you will go back to the spectre, and once he has beaten you to the very limits of your stamina, then we will take you to the portal."

Moloch shook the clinging sorcerer from its hand, sending him plummeting down through the hole in the floor and crashing heavily on the walkway below, no longer in the concealment of the cave. He clambered to his feet and looked back at the hole; his eyes narrowed angrily, but he could no longer see either of the two demons. The round opening was too high for him to reach again without aid, which he had previously received rather against his will. Not that he had any desire to return with the two Oni there, even if he had the option.

"I'll see you rot in this place for eternity, Drahmin!" Quan Chi bellowed angrily, unable to contain his frustration at having been mistreated and handled so callously by the Oni and his huge companion. And then a dismal realisation occurred to him and he clamped his hands over his own mouth worriedly, before casting a quick glance about his surroundings. The ninja spectre was nowhere to be seen, or so it seemed, and so he relaxed for the moment, allowing the tenseness in his muscles to slacken. Removing his hands from his mouth, he brushed the dust from his garb, the armoured shoulder guard and the cloth leggings he wore beneath the emerald drapes suspended from his belt. He wiped the almost constant sweat born from the heat of the Netherealm away from his forehead, running his hands back over the skin of his head, touching on the red tribal markings he had tattooed there, adorning him as one of magic.

With luck he would be able to continue to evade Scorpion, and this would allow him the time he needed to formulate a plan. Obviously it would be ideal to return to Outworld, but he would need a plan for when he reached there. There was one person that the sorcerer could think of that would probably welcome him. Shao Kahn was in a weakened state ever since his failure to invade Earthrealm, and even though the mighty sorcerer Shang Tsung was already working in his employ, it would surely not hurt to put forth his services as a follower of perhaps the most powerful being in the other realm, especially if he were to throw his mastery of Shinnok's amulet into the bargain as an added incentive. Quan Chi had been in possession of the amulet for some years now, and had learned a fair degree of its workings, but sadly had never been able to make it work in the Netherealm. If what the Oni had said was true then he now knew why it would not work.

The sorcerer looked up, mind resolved. He would find the portal that Drahmin had spoken of and use it to return to Outworld. Once there he would ally with Shao Kahn and ensure himself a place of safety in the Emperor's court. He cursed the demons under his breath and took his first step on the path to salvation.

That step was ended halfway through its passing when something sharp impacted heavily with his back. He gasped breathlessly as he felt something piercing, impaling him through the chest, wracking first his torso, and then his whole body with an agonising, rending pain. His eyes bulged as he lifted his gloved hands before himself and found them to be covered in spattered droplets of his own blood. He cried out soundlessly, the only noise escaping his lips a strangled rasping, lost to the roar of flames far below. The point of a sharp, steel blade protruded from his chest and he looked upon it with a silent horror, knowing immediately what it was. The pain that it caused was different from all other forms; it was a pain filled with hatred and a lust for vengeance that had been tempered into the very steel of the weapon that was now sticking straight through his body. The utterly-consuming rage was manifested in the spear, in the same way it was manifested in its wielder; through sheer brutality.

"Get over here!"