Bondage
by Nyohah

1
Slightly Uncertain Handwriting
in a Small Leather Notebook

Doctor Yuan Li—

I've almost recovered all of my memories, now. I decided I had better write them down in case they try to take them away from me again. You deserve to know everything that I write here; I owe you that much, even if it is impossible that you will ever get this.

When I said 'they', I meant Shang Tsung and his master—who, by the way, is not Shao Kahn. Tsung's real master is a nameless thing, best described as a demon. Most call him the Demon Master, and some simply refer to him as Evil. He's not the leader of all evil—by all accounts, that would be Satan—but it is rumored that he is the second-in-command, and having experienced his power first-hand, I do not doubt that this could be true. I once belonged to him, and now I belong to Tsung. I would be dead—twice—if they had not interfered.

My chances of living a normal life were ruined when I was only eight years old. I was living with my father and sister. My mother was dead.

She'd died when I was very young. I don't think that she died giving birth to me. I hope she didn't. But I know she was dead before I was very old, as there is no image of her anywhere in my mind.

My father would rarely mention her. The only times I can remember him saying anything about her is when he would tell me that I was going to be just like her some day, just as beautiful. I'm not exactly ugly, as I think you would agree.

The trouble all started one day when my father called my sister, Tung, and I because there was going to be a town meeting. I remember what we were doing very well. I was climbing a tree, while Tung was being mad at me and pretending to read. I had beaten her in a race, again, practically running circles around her, actually. I was a very energetic little girl. My father had once told me I had two settings: off and high. He'd enrolled me in a Wing Chun class to try to harness my energy, and also because my mother had been a great martial artist. I was quite good, if I do say so myself, and I still am, enrolled in this tournament and all, though I'd much rather be with you on Earth, having not even heard of Mortal Kombat.

Everyone was at the meeting that day. Even Mrs. Li and that strange baby boy of hers were there. Everyone said he was stupid because he didn't talk and he was three, one of the reasons we still called him 'baby'. The other was that his older brother was nine years older than he was. The Lis were very good friends with my father. Tung and I slept at the Lis house, as my father was always gone during the night. I don't know why he always left. He just did.

While I didn't understand her younger son, the elder was much more fun. I'd spar with him when he was around. My father taught him martial arts, personally, and rather seriously, spending all his efforts on that boy, which is why he didn't officially teach me. Unofficially, well, let's just say that I was already quite a bit better than your average white belt when I started Wing Chun, and I knew a lot of techniques from other styles, along with acrobatics, my second love.

The whole reason for the village meeting was that some stranger had come to town, from Shanghai. I tried to sit still while the stranger, a wise man, and for the life of me, I can't remember his name, droned on incessantly about wars, and clones, and genocide, and prophecies, but it was really hopeless. I was only eight. How could I be expected to sit through The History of the Universe Part Four and a Half? I would have lost the little patience and self-control that I had, or maybe simply fallen asleep, if two words hadn't stuck out at me.

Shang Tsung.

I had once heard my father curse a man named Shang Tsung—the only time I'd heard him curse anything. So, naturally, I was intrigued and sat up, paying attention to the lecture.

"...All seemed lost," the stranger was saying, "but yet we still have some hope, besides the judges. It has also been prophesied that two small girls have the potential for great power. Two girls who could help destroy the Demon Master and his servants forever. The girls are sisters. The eldest's element should be Wind, while the youngest should have Wind and Air. As you should all know, the combination of Wind and Air is very rare, and very powerful, making for a very fast warrior, with a tendency to jump when she fights."

The stranger then asked all the villagers if they knew of any two girls who would fit the description he offered. Two men immediately grabbed Tung and I, almost desperately, dragging us to the front. Our town was not very well off, that much I can remember, and it always seemed as though they were used to much more than what they had, but that's simply speculation.

We were dragged to the strange man in front. My father stood, but what could he do? There was no stopping this inevitable occurrence. Few people would have helped him; they weren't thinking of us, and they didn't care what happened to him, as long as their pitiful lives might be improved. And I don't think he was well liked; nor were the Lis, for that matter.

The stranger probed our minds, and peered into our souls. He obviously found what he was looking for, and he began to rejoice. "I've found them finally after so many years of searching!" et cetera. He talked to our father, who wasn't at all surprised, but immensely sad, as the last remaining members of his family were taken away from him. We weren't even allowed to say goodbye.

I never saw my father again.

The stranger taught us martial arts, training us to be warriors of justice, and after a year of constant efforts, my sister had a great start, I was constantly improving, and he'd tattooed a V-shaped dart on our forearms. The legs of the shape were on my arm, and the point was on Tung's.

Unfortunately, the wise man and I never got along. I pushed him over the top after a practice mission. Our task had been to protect a crystal that two of Master's male students would attempt to steal.

Tung and I sat and waited for the longest time; this was probably as much a test of patience as anything. We were wearing black pants, a black turtleneck, and a jacket, though hers was white while mine was red. When the boys finally came, we repelled them without too much effort, though I did noticeably much more than Tung did. She was never really into the whole warrior thing. She obviously thought the whole prophecy was nonsense, even if she wouldn't admit it. She had never believed fairy tales or fables, or any kind of story involving magic. So why would she believe that she, of all people, could bring justice and protect the world against evil?

The wise man came in after the boys had been forced to retreat. He began to tell us every single little detail of every single tiny mistake we made. And he griped at me for not letting my sister help me very much, when she could have helped twice as much if she'd have tried. I wasn't stopping her. Okay, so maybe I was a little.

By this time, I'd had enough of his nitpicking, and I lost all my self-control. "Why are you bothering us with these stupid things?" I shouted at him. "We haven't learned anything in months! If this is all you know, then perhaps you can no longer teach me anything!"

"Ching," he replied through his teeth, seething with anger. "If you think that you have learned everything you need to know, then perhaps you need to take the test."

"If this is something you will teach me," I defiantly raised my chin, "then perhaps I do."

I looked up the cliff at the two tiny figures an immeasurable distance above me. The stranger had left me at the bottom, then teleported himself and Tung to the top (which probably scared her to death, and is maybe what convinced her she could be a hero, since magic was real). Taking a deep breath, I gripped the rope in front of me and began to climb. Why did he feel he had to punish me so badly? I will probably never know. I do know that I hate him. If he'd never done this to me, I wouldn't be so miserable right now, and my life might actually mean something.

I scraped my knees constantly on the rough rocks. My throat burned from the dust. Some of the rocks even shifted or tumbled off when I tried to put my weight on them. It was not an easy test. Oh, it would be now, but I was only nine, and I've never met a nine-year-old girl who had sufficient muscle to climb up a rope a fourth of that distance.

I made it up the first part of the cliff fairly easily, but, inevitably, I tired. There were no ledges on this cliff large enough that I could support my entire weight on them without exerting myself in any way. When I was twenty feet from the top, I knew I would not make it on my own.

"Tung, help me!" I struggled up a few more feet, squealing with fright and pain. She just looked down at me.

"You can climb up on your own," said the stranger. "Or you can fall. No one can help you." He also merely looked at me, as if not seeing my struggle. If he'd helped me I wouldn't be in this mess. If he'd let her help me, I wouldn't be in this mess. But I'd really done it that time, and he was irate.

Tung looked at me, forlornly. It was then that I realized she'd been forbidden from helping me. "Climb! Ching, climb up!" she yelled, as if it would make my exhausted muscles suddenly work again. "Don't fall! Climb!" She finally gave up on being obedient, kneeling at the top of the cliff and stretching out her hand.

The stranger made no effort to stop her, which leads me to believe that he had wanted her to help me the whole time, and lessen my ego—make me realize I sometimes would need her help. But she was very obedient. She hated breaking the rules and being yelled at.

I gratefully reached forward and we wrapped our fingers around each other's wrist, just as my feet slipped from the cliff face, and my other arm gave out. She slid a foot down the shallow incline at the top of the cliff, trying desperately to hold me up.

We both screamed as my sweaty hand slipped through her grasp.

And that is how I fell, both literally and figuratively.

I couldn't feel my body. There was no pain. I couldn't move. I guess I was dead, and something stalled my spirit to wherever it was supposed to go, whatever afterlife there is.

That something was a man.

But not just a man. He radiated power, more so than Rayden; even at that age, I could feel it. He was not tall, but still imposing, dressed in flowing robes. On his head he wore a headdress with horns that curved to the front, almost pointing to the ground, but not quite. They were like a ram's horns, but yet not. He didn't have this headdress in real life, yet, as it was an honor not yet bestowed to him, but he thought of himself already having them, and therefore that is how I saw him.

*Hua Ching Sa,* he said without truly speaking. *Look at yourself.* At first I thought he was crazy. I couldn't see anything of myself, no matter how hard I tried. Then, he showed me my crumpled body at the base of the cliff. If I'd had a stomach, I would have been sick. *It is sad,* he continued, *such a promising girl's life cut short like this. And the reason? Because you don't need your sister's help in a fight? Because your master is not teaching you anything? That 'wise man' is anything but. He should not have destroyed a gem like you. I could help you, but it would be too much of a commitment for a small girl like you to make.*

He was baiting me, it's obvious now, but I wanted more than anything to be alive again. Besides, I didn't know what he meant. "Please help," I tried to say, but no sound came out. He understood me anyway, probably from reading my thoughts. "I am old enough to make the commitment." I had no idea what I was getting myself into. If I'd only known...

*No, you're not,* he continued to argue. *I cannot make a tremendous decision such as this for you.*

"Please help me!" I implored. He gave up rather easily, as if it was what he wanted in the first place, though I didn't care at the time.

*Well, if you insist, and swear to never break your promise, as there will be dire consequences.*

"Yes, yes I do!"

*Very well. I will save you.* And he did. But honestly, verbal contracts made by children should hardly be binding. Don't you agree?

Suddenly, there was pain. Most people would think that resurrections wouldn't leave any pain in the body, but just because you're alive doesn't mean your body is completely healed. And you've just been violated by black magic. Maybe that doesn't bother demon sorcerers like Shang Tsung who wallow in it every day, but me? It hurt my soul. And my body, while no longer splattered on the rocks, did have bruises, and my left arm was broken. If he'd spent a little more energy, he could have rid me of that too, but demons are stingy with their power. They always want more, no matter how much they have, like a billionaire who lives in a shack so he doesn't have to pay bills and who won't pay his child support payments because he's afraid he'll lose his money, even as he gets thousands of dollars more each day.

So I was resurrected by one of the worst demons in existence, and thus condemned to lifelong bondage. He told me to call him Master, and if any other demons threatened me, or asked whom I worked for, I should call him "The Demon Master."

He allowed me to say goodbye to my sister, probably to convince me that he was better than the wise man, as, if you'll remember, he didn't even let us say goodbye to our father. Maybe, just maybe, he couldn't have taken me then, if I had not gone with him willingly. I wish I knew. And, also, I don't, because I am afraid that one of my worst fears would then be confirmed.

Tung was lying in the pasture not far from the cliff, sobbing. The stranger was trying, very unsuccessfully, to cheer her up. They were both very surprised when I spoke.

"I thought you were dead. I saw you fall," replied my sister, sniffing. We stood in silence for a bit.

"When I was down there," I tried to explain, "a man came. He saved me."

"That's wonderful! I want to meet him."

"I have to serve him, Tung-Tung."

"Ching-Ching, don't go!" Tung almost started to cry again.

"Master wouldn't want a dummy like me," I half-joked, trying half-heartedly to cheer her up by repeating something she'd said to me the very day we'd been taken away from our father. "I'll miss you. Take care of yourself. Don't cry." I fixed her jacket, turned away and left, never looking back.

Tung called after me, "Ching!" Then I heard the stranger interrupt.

"Let her go." There was a small pause. "Kneel down. Tung, you must stay here. You will continue the training for yourself and Ching. I shall only count on you to uphold justice for me. It's all up to you now."

We traveled to Hong Kong. The demon master lived in the underworld there, a place almost no one knew existed. Huge pillars glowed with the heat of the earth's core. Evil stone figures of goblins rested on every few pillars. Methane gas made it smell rancid, not to mention hard to breath.

"You're no longer Ching," Master said in his real voice, which was quite different from his spirit voice, as he was a eunuch. "Starting today, you will be known as Number Three." A log hit me in the back of the head, and I lost all memory of my father and sister as I fell, crying out from pain. I didn't recover it for fourteen years.

I believe I mentioned the Mortal Kombat tournament earlier. It is supposedly the way Earth is protected from Shao Kahn and his endless quest to take over the universe. I haven't seen much of Shao Khan yet. I can tell you that he is a huge man-like creature. He wears almost nothing and a death's head mask. Shang Tsung is a demon necromancer who once upon a time was human, Chinese, I think. Those two lead the team I'm on, the Outworld team, the 'bad guys'.

There are five others fighting for Outworld, including myself. One is a mutant beast named Baraka who has so little loyalty he would betray his own mother. He has no hair, jaundice skin, giant blade-like teeth in an oversized mouth, huge blades surgically implanted in his arm that he can slide in and out of his dry flesh at will, and he usually crouches like the animal he is. The other male is also not human. He looks like he is when he is wearing his ninja uniform, but everyone knows under the mask is a shape-shifter chameleon of unparalleled skill. In fact, he can change his skin pattern so quickly that it appears he is invisible. If he wasn't so blindly loyal to Shang Tsung, he would be all right.

The other three of us—Kitana, Jade, and I—all look like triplets, except that Jade has a little darker skin, and her hair is dark brown, while mine is pure black, and Kitana's is just a shade on the browner side of black. The resemblance between us is especially heightened when we wear our fighting outfits: a skin-tight leotard, black fitted belts around our waists, thin, flexible boots that stop just above the knees, gloves that stop mid-bicep, and masks, which hide the differences in our faces. Our eyes, except for their color (mine violet, Kitana and Jade's black), are also almost identical, so Kitana and I are extremely hard to tell apart when wearing masks, besides the fact that I am slightly smaller. My outfit is violet, and I have sais hidden in my boots, while Kitana's is blue and she has fans made of razor-sharp blades. Jade's is—what else—green, and she has boomerangs with a blade lining one side, and a bo that has a tendency to appear out of nowhere. For some reason, though, yesterday she had fans. I am a little curious as to just what role she is going to play in this tournament. Also, we each specialize in a different area of sorcery. Mine is teleportation, Kitana's is telekinesis, and Jade's is invisibility and intangibility. My only explanation for her disappearing bo is that she turns it invisible and intangible and somehow managed to attach it to herself so it can be in her hands when she releases it from her spells.

Our opponents are also quite interesting. First and foremost is Liu Kang, an Order of Light monk, fire elemental, and winner of the previous tournament. Next is Kung Lao, also an Order of Light monk, and the owner of a rather eccentric hat trimmed with a razor blade. Rayden is the 'god' of thunder, and a survivor of the previous tournament; most of our opponents are his Chosen Ones, for he is the protector of the realm of Earth. Unfortunately, he reminds me of the Demon Master, with the lightning and power and all. Johnny Cage is also a survivor, and a (rather vain) movie star wishing to prove that he is a true martial artist. Major Jackson Briggs, a.k.a. 'Jax', is Lieutenant Sonya Blade's partner in the U.S. Special Forces. Sonya and her nemesis, Kano, survived, but did not escape from the previous tournament. They're chained up on either side of Kahn's throne in the arena.

The last two fighters were surprises, and we're not quite sure exactly what side they're on. Sub-Zero is a Lin Kuei ice ninja who supposedly died in the first tournament, but somehow showed up again, once again determined to assassinate Shang Tsung or die trying. Scorpion also returned, probably to try and kill him again, for Sub-Zero murdered him before, and Scorpion is not truly alive; under his mask lies a skeleton's head.