DON'T BE ALARMED, EVERY AUTHOR'S NOTE WON'T BE THIS LONG!

Just need to get some things out the way.

Here is the story I spoke of in Soul Mates.

This is a completely new story, apart from Strangled, in the timeline of the MOVIE (1995) with some elements of the MK9 game. For instance, the invasion has been foiled two years ago as seen in the movie; however, Shang Tsung wasn't killed. Also, instead of Cary T. and Bridgette W., I have Kerri Hoskins and Bruce Locke in mind for Sonya and Shang Tsung.

I used Kerri since this is at a period of Sonya's life where she is young and not as hardened and world weary yet. I used Bruce because, well, he's hot as Hades ;)

Oh, and I think his performance in 'Conquest' was a little more menacing than Cary in the movie.

So without further ado...

Enjoy!

Wait, there is further ado:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Mortal Kombat and/or its characters and settings. It belongs to Midway...Not! It belongs to the folks at Warner Brothers' Netherrealm Studios and their affiliates.

Chapter One

Suave.

Mysterious.

Masculine.

Attractive.

That was what was on the surface. That was what he'd want everyone to see in him, but I knew the truth. Beneath the veneer of dark charm was a heart as foul and and as black as bubbling tar. Those eyes might seem smoldering to some, but they were cruel and soulless to me. I saw his youth and firm health and knew it could only mean one thing: he was stealing souls again.

Legally this time, I reminded myself.

He knew his boundaries, set up between himself and the fledgling organization that was OID, or the Otherworldly Investigation Department. After the tournament and botched invasion by Shao Kahn, my superiors and the president himself agreed to fund my partner Jax and I. We had to spear-head everything on our own, from gaining supporters and funding to vacating a building large enough for our needs and training prospective members. Working with delegates of other national board members, we drafted plenty of laws that people of both Earth and Outworld would have to abide by. Agreements and compromises were in place and, so far, Shang Tsung has been most compliant. Kahn was no more, he'd been murdered last I heard, and one called Ermac ruled in his place. Shang Tsung claimed to speak for him, er, them, and that was fine so long as they all kept their imperialistic aims away from our world. As dictated, the sorcerer has kept his uncouth behavior within the parameters of Outworld and has been taking his probationary status pretty well; he and his emperor have been laying low.

Until now.

Recently, about two or three months ago, Shang Tsung has been making appearances in various forms of the press. First I saw him in the paper, and some weeks afterwards he was on television. There were already pictures of him signing documents with the president and with Jax and I, all twisted smirks and 'peaceful' intentions. And now he was in the papers again. His face was on the front page. Smug. Shady. Deceitful: the rest of the world might be moving on from the invasion scare, but I wasn't. They weren't there on that island, they didn't see the things I did. Sure, the world witnessed Shao Kahn busting up in our atmosphere, claiming to have come for our souls, but the Elder Gods wrapped that up pretty quickly. And such a shame, we were prepared to fight him. I think we could've taken the emperor, even with our rag-tag group, but I guess it was for the better that the Elder Gods intervened. The next I heard from him was of his murder at the hands of some of his subordinates: I was still trying to get to the bottom of that.

But it seemed like I wouldn't get the chance, not with this little turn of events. Apparently Shang Tsung was planning something commercial. He was very cooperative from the start with OID and the president, which could amount to the fact that he wasn't rotting away in a cell somewhere for his hateful crimes. You see, he argued that the warriors who participated in the tournament had done so willingly and knew that death was a possible risk. He leaned heavily on the fact that he was from a different world, serving under another figure's jurisdiction and the powers above me accepted that. I didn't think it was right or fair, but every charge I tried to slap onto him he weaseled his way out of.

I glared at his picture now, he was always so sure of himself, so sure that he'd win or that he was one step ahead of everyone else. Well, not this time. I made it my personal goal to get down to the crux of whatever this thing was about.

In the paper it said he was doing some remodeling. He was opening his island for others to see, and not just a pop in and leave event: no, he was offering a luxury cruise from Hong Kong to his land, a resort stay in his own palace, and a guided tour of the island. There were other amenities listed that I'm sure would attract the common man, and all for only $500. What a deal.

What a trap, I really thought.

He was up to something, I'm sure. The last time he shipped people from Earth to his island resulted in the near destruction of our home. But the more I read, the more suspicious I got. Even though it said there'd be military personnel on board for people's safety and that he'd gotten sanction from the government and all, I didn't think this was a good idea.

"Gooood morning, sunshine!"

Just what the doctor ordered, I thought with a small sigh, another visit from the peanut gallery.

"It's 3 in the afternoon." I said in greeting to this newcomer.

As they stepped further into my office, approaching my desk, I rolled my eyes but tried to focus on the troubling article in front of me.

"Why don't you ever knock?" I griped.

He said, "You told me not to."

"When?"

"That one time."

"When?"

"When you were all like, 'Johnny just get in here and get the hell out so I can get on with my day'."

Oh yeah. I did remember that. It was a while ago, when he'd been knocking and beating around the bush outside my office door, driving me up the wall with his antics. But that didn't apply to every one of his visits, which were becoming more and more frequent. For the last year I hadn't seen much of him at all since he was busy working on a new movie called 'Mortal Combat', but he aborted the project some time later when he couldn't get the script right. Oh, and yes, it was based off of our roles in the tournament two years ago. 'Based' is actually a word I use quite loosely, considering how sensationalized the drafts were beginning to sound.

"What do you want this time?" I asked him, still not looking at him.

I heard him shut the door and walk around some more, his feet making light sounds against the stiff carpet flooring.

"I want what I always want," He said, "To see you. Talk to you."

"I'm busy." I replied.

"Can't you spare a few minutes?" he tried, "We could go and grab a bite to eat real quick."

"Not right now." I clipped.

He asked, "Don't you ever take a break?"

"On a Tuesday?" I frowned, then said, "I don't think so."

Johnny did that thing where he half-laughed-half-scoffed, murmuring 'of course' to himself. I crossed my arms and gazed at him full on. It might be easy for him to just drop everything and slack off, but I was buried in work right now and didn't have that luxury.

"Look, Mr. Movie Star," I spoke sharply, "Jax and I are the backbone this department. I'm not gonna' foist everything onto his plate so that I can go run off with you."

Johnny shrugged and said, "Why not? He looks like a pretty tough guy, he can hold down the fort for half an hour, right?"

I sighed and said, "That's not the point."

"Then what is?" he pressed.

"This is too last minute," I insisted, "You can't just spring things on me. You have to plan ahead."

"For what?" He asked, "Don't you like a little spontaneity and excitement?"

"No. I don't." I told him flatly. "I'm not like those flighty little tarts you pick up around Hollywood that are just...down for whatever you have in mind. I'm a mature, organized person with a busy life so until you learn to take that into consideration, I don't have time for you."

Johnny stood with his hands in the pockets of his black pants, gazing off to the side pensively. I immediately felt a tiny bit of remorse for laying it on him like that. I just hated to think that he was the same after all we'd been through, there was no way he was the same egotistical bean-head that threw corny chauvinistic passes at me on an old leaky boat. I knew he'd been affected, and it bothered me that he'd come back to a lifestyle of wining and dining and riding the fast lane as if nothing had happened. He was taking the easy way out, trying to pretend that life was still normal and none of that had gone down. I knew he was a changed man, and I wanted to see him embrace that. That was why I was so hard on him sometimes.

"Okay," Johnny spoke at last, "That seems fair. So uh. How about tonight?"

I scoffed and shook my head, gazing back down at the newspaper on my desk. It was like my last statement had gone right over his head.

"I'm busy tonight," I told him.

"What about next week?" He gambled, "Next Monday?"

I looked up and let my eyes do the talking. He came over and dropped his hands onto my desk with a pleading look.

"Come on, Sonya," He begged, "I just wanna' spend a little time with you."

I rolled my eyes again, I did that a lot around him, but ultimately I capitulated. It wasn't often, if ever, I tended to indulge him. I think the last time we got together was when Liu and Kitana were here in New York for a visit about two months ago.

"Fine." I stated. "Monday it is."

Johnny's expression was comical. "Really?"

"You want me to change my mind?" I challenged.

He quickly asked, "Is noon good?"

"Sure." I acceded.

"Great!" Johnny grinned.

He bowed at the waist and said, "It's a date."

"It's lunch," I corrected.

"I'll take what I can get." He shrugged, standing to his full height and exiting with no small amount of flair.

Try as I might, I couldn't deny the fact that every time he visited me, no matter how irksome the experience was, it always left me with a smile on my face.

As much as I hated to admit it, Johnny was kind of right. I did need a break. My life was so consumed by work that a bit of an escape would be welcome, if only for a day or two. That's not to say I don't enjoy my life or my job, though, because it's honestly a passion of mine. I really did get a thrill out of all this. A couple of years ago I had no faith that there was even a God, and then the invasion happened and shook my beliefs indefinitely. Now I was eager to find out all I could about these other dimensions and the beings that inhabited them. Yeah, it takes a lot of leg work in traveling and sneaking around, but seeing my files fatten with information was the real payoff. They were here, in front of me. I didn't trust leaving the bulk of them at my office just yet. The building Jax and I were in the process of renovating didn't have top-notch security just yet so if anything were to happen to these files, I'd lose my mind.

My heftiest folder was definitely the one on Shao Kahn. It was relatively easy to get the scoop on him. First I took trips to ancient areas in China where there were monks who specialized in the goings-on of the Elder Gods, and were very much aware of what was going on. Liu Kang pointed me in their direction. Traveling over to other realms from there required the accompaniment of the Elder God Raiden, so one could imagine why I didn't get to go there as often as I liked. No matter. I just had to make sure I was getting the most out of each trip. I believe there was so much common knowledge on Shao Kahn among the denizens of other realms because of how prevalent his influence was. The lands he didn't already conquer, which were few and far between, still girded themselves with information on him and his tactics so as not to fall victim like the the previous dismal regions.

The others weren't so easy to research.

Like the rest of the folders, the file on the one called Ermac was very slim. I didn't know where he came from or what the extent of his abilities were, but I did know that he was emperor now. He and the being called Noob Saibot had worked with two others that had yet to identify to overthrow the former emperor. Now Noob was in the Netherrealm and Ermac was on the throne. Judging by his location, I figured things didn't work out too well for Noob Saibot. Perhaps he'd been punished by the Elder Gods and sent there? But if that was the case, why didn't Ermac get punished too? Maybe he betrayed Noob Saibot or something. There was still so much I didn't know. And with Raiden's constant unavailability, not to mention the work here in developing OID, there was only so much researching I could do at a time. It frustrated me at times.

My stomach growled.

Oh yes. Sometimes I got so absorbed or overwhelmed with my work that I would forget to eat. That was a problem that only really happened at home, since I had a set schedule for when I'm out and about. If not, I wouldn't ever make heads or tails of my hectic life. Right now I closed each of the manila folders and stacked them in the metal filing box under the table. I'd have to save figuring out the mystery behind Kahn's murder and Ermac's subsequent rule another day. That was what I meant earlier, this was the drive that kept me sane. I love getting to the bottom of stuff like this.

I pulled the filing box over to the corner of the room and headed to the kitchen. I yawned, not realizing how weary I was until now. Though I'd bathed and dressed for bed in some cotton shorts and a t-shirt, I didn't think I'd be sleeping anytime soon. Sleepy as I was, it'd take an hour or so of meaningless sitcoms to get my mind to stop racing and grinding over thoughts of work and such.

I crossed over towards the living room and turned on my television, then set the remote down on the couch and headed to the kitchen. Mechanically I went about the task of preparing dinner for myself while the sounds of late night tv filled my modest apartment. Cooking made me think of my upcoming engagement with Johnny. He was a tough one, I'd admit. Two years and he was still pestering me. I didn't know what to make of it, other than the fact that he maybe had it bad.

I snorted.

Probably just his ego, I thought, can't stand letting just one woman get away. Well he's gonna' have to try a whole lot harder if he wants me to give him the time of day. I'm not gonna' settle for just some smooth talk and sweet words. I don't want that. I want...

I really wanted him to be serious. If he was going to pursue me, I wanted him to do it wholeheartedly. All the shallow gimmicks and techniques that he was used to dishing out did work on a lot of women, but not me. I had a glimpse of who he really was and so now I wouldn't settle for the visage of a man he's putting on display for the rest of the world.

Wait a minute.

Did I want him? I don't know. Maybe. He was my type as far as looks; maybe. But personality-wise we clashed. Would that work? Did I want it to? I don't know. Maybe when he lets his true self shine past the macho man front, I'll be able to tell.

While I was stirring the vegetables and beef in a pan over my stove, I suddenly froze. That name. Someone had said his name!

I dropped the long wooden spoon laden with sauce onto the counter and flew to my television. It was true! The reporter on the evening news said his name again, I just heard her! This was big for me. Although I knew of and had seen Shang Tsung in the media before, I had not yet seen him live and speaking. This would be the first time. I didn't want to miss a thing. I turned behind me and snatched the remote off the couch, then turned the volume way up. The reporter's voice flooded my ears at once.

She was way too excited to have him at her side, though I highly suspected her mood would change were she to know who he really was. As it were, her wide smile was as bright as her red lipstick and her matching suit. Her hair, short and thick, bounced over her shoulders in brunette waves. In contrast to her baby blue eyes, those locks were the only dark thing on her. The same could hardly be said of him.

He was in all black and was simply dressed. Black vest, black pants, black boots. I could see from the way he sat in his chair. The two of them were set up for an interview, so I took a seat in a cross-legged position in front of the tv screen. He looked younger than I last saw him, but not by much. He just seemed like he was in his mid-thirties now with well-toned arms, lengthy black hair that shined against the studio lighting, and a trim torso showing through his sleeveless top. He sat with his arms folded and his legs open.

"So Mr. Shang Tsung, was it?" The young woman asked, "How are you tonight?"

"Fine." He said simply.

"Things going well over in OuterWorld?" She then inquired.

"As well as can be expected," He answered cryptically.

He didn't cringe like I did at her mispronunciation. That was very common among the general public, seeing as the whole concept was being handled in a way the populace could swallow it: Outworld was being treated like another country rather than a parallel dimension.

"I see," The young woman remarked with that same vapid smile. "Well I heard you're doing some re-modeling on your island. What's that about?"

"In the very near future," He explained quietly, "I'll be opening my lands for tourism."

The reporter said, "Right! I read about that in the papers. Is this a political move, seeing as how you've acted as an ambassador for your emperor thus far?"

"It is." He replied. "The revenue would please him, while I myself hope to build inter-dimensional relations with this venture."

"Oh?" The reporter sported a surprised expression.

Shang Tsung claimed in response, "My emperor and I want nothing but positive interactions between my world and this one."

So that's his game, then?

I couldn't say I was convinced. Shao Kahn was emperor and what pleased him was conquering realms. Shang had told me so himself. So why should I believe this Ermac being is any different? I really wanted to get an interview of my own, with the emperor, not with Shang, of course.

I don't think I'm ready for that yet.

"So will you be opening your entire island for tourists to visit?" The reporter asked.

Shang replied, "Not quite. There are some areas that are much too dangerous for humans to tread."

"What are some of the dangerous areas?" The reporter just had to ask, naturally.

The sorcerer said, "The Living Forest, for example."

She made a pleasant face and stated, "That doesn't sound too bad."

"It's a growling forest that hangs and devours trespassers." Shang Tsung deadpanned.

The young woman paled. I could've sworn I saw the corner of the sorcerer's mouth twitch upwards in a brief smirk.

"Oh. Um." The young reporter stammered, "I can um, I can see why that would be off-limits. Are you sure that this is a good place to bring tourists?"

"Much like a mortal woman," Shang Tsung elaborated, "the majority of the island is beautiful. It just has its unmentionable regions."

The reporter blushed a bit, what with the sorcerer's words coupled with his low tone and ever-entrancing eyes focused on her. I could imagine she was getting a lot more out of this interview than she'd originally bargained for.

"I, uh, I see." The reporter spoke after clearing her throat uncomfortably.

She was a brave young thing, trucking on with, "So who is allowed to come on these trips?"

"Anyone who can afford it." Shang Tsung replied.

"How many people can come at a time?" She then asked, "And how frequently do you plan to host these tours?"

"These tours will be held twice a month," He answered, "In groups of no more than twenty."

"Ah, sounds nice." The reporter remarked, "Is there anything else you'd like to add?"

"There is, actually." He stated.

Shang Tsung turned to face the camera, startling me with his fierce gaze. His eyes softened just a bit but with the softness was something just as intense and foreboding.

In a smooth voice he said, "I would like to extend a...special invitation to a 'certain someone'."

My stomach dropped and a million goosebumps started to rise on the top of my bare thighs. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the screen, away from his own, for the longest of three seconds.

Then the reporter laughed.

"Who is the guest of honor?" She asked with intrigue.

Shang Tsung didn't even flinch but the camera had cut to the brunette, thereby ending his hold over me. I swallowed hard and tensed in anticipation of his answer. When he spoke, it was in that same low tone.

"...She knows who she is."

Burning.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Shang Tsung."

Something was burning.

"Thank you for having me."

My stir-fry!

I left the stove on, I didn't plan to get so engrossed in this. I only wanted to check it out, but as I hurried back into the kitchen, I saw a thick shroud of smoke over my frying pan of food.

I covered my mouth and nose with one hand and grabbed a dishrag from the sink. Once I had the pan off of the hot stove, I saw that the damage looked a lot worse than it actually was. The food was still mostly intact. I scraped it onto a plate and dipped the metal pan under a stream of water. After I set that down, I rooted around my cabinets for some aluminum foil to cover my food with. I didn't have much of an appetite anymore.

A/N: This is the first chapter, please forgive the shortness. I am going to say now that I might not be able to make this a long story like how I am used to writing. We'll see.

I hope you enjoyed this start. If so, or if not, tell me so in a review please! Thanks and until next time!

~DymondGold~