Date: Sat, 17 Feb 1996 21:54:23 -0500
From: Vctr113062@aol.com
Message-Id: <960217215423_146995822@mail04.mail.aol.com>
To: jevans@MIT.EDU
Subject: Winter 12/16

*****************************************************************

	"AAAAAAAH!" The living shadow cried out as if he'd been the one to fall into
the crevice. "You - you - do you have any IDEA what you've done?!? There are
NATIONS worth less than that Fulgore prototype!"
	"If you want it back so badly, you are welcome to descend the stairs in
search of it. Do watch out for the demoness at the bottom."
	"I'm ruined," he whispered, ignoring me. "Ruined. I can't go back to
Ultratech now - I'd have to work off this debt for the next five
centuries...!" I walked past Saibot. The bluff ahead was not truly sheer; it
tilted at an angle, and there were plenty of potential handholds in its
rough-hewn surface. The summit wasn't more than a quarter-mile above.
Climbing it ought to be feasible.
	"Exactly where do you think _you're_ going?" Saibot's voice abruptly shifted
timbre from plaintive to spiteful. 
	"I've already demonstrated my skill against your minions. Must it come to
this?" I sighed. "Though it is not my desire to harm you, rest assured that I
will not hold back. You, however, are hindered by the need to capture me
alive."
	"Not anymore, fool. You've wrecked everything. All my toil! Twenty years of
degradation, constantly at their beck and call, all WASTED because of YOU!"
	"What are you babbling abou-"
	"ULTRATECH WAS GOING TO CURE ME!" he screamed. Shandra flinched from the
decibel level and swiveled her ears tight against her skull. "In exchange for
a million pounds' worth of service! Capturing you would have been worth the
last fifty thousand!" His seamless hands rounded into fists. "Look at me! Do
you think I want to be like this? A miserable blob of spilled black paint
forever walking the twilight like one of the undead? _Look at me_!"
	I looked at him. A spastic, unfamiliar clutching bubbled within my
diaphragm. I could neither stave off nor understand the alien sensation,
which rocked me with the need discharge short, staccato bursts of sound.
	Laughter.
	I never guessed I was still capable of this.
	Saibot stiffened. "What's so bloody amusing?!"
	"Heh. You are." The sensation subsided, and I didn't know whether I was
relieved or sorry to let it go. "You've freed yourself from the clan, your
Power and stealth give you the potential to become one of the greatest
warriors in history, yet you complain about your appearance? If it is
sympathy you seek, you are addressing the wrong person. Take your self-pity
elsewhere."
	"This is about revenge, not pity! It was a mistake to sign on with Ultratech
when I had an unfinished vendetta against your clan; I realize that now." His
outline wavered, blurring from the Power he called into his swirling black
form. "It's time to fix that. First you. Then every other Lin Kuei in
existence."

*****************************************************************

	Shang Tsung's guards prevented me from getting a clear shot at the
necromancer. His legions were far too numerous to confront directly. 
	I needed a distraction.
	With that thought in mind, I studied Sonya Blade's underlings. Shang Tsung
mocked Sonya by displaying her two comrades openly, in a hollowed set of
interconnecting chasms. One of the sorcerer's many thrones sparkled a scarce
distance away, for Shang Tsung liked to use this gulf as a Tournament battle
arena. High above, the stone walls parted before open sky, but during the
daytime a foul fog of mystical jet blocked out the sun. The resulting shadows
made it easy for me to remain unnoticed.
	One of the prisoners was Caucasian with sunny yellow hair. The other had
tawny skin and graceful features reminiscent of the Americas' native tribes.
A red headband tied in a double knot may have once kept his dark bangs away
from his eyes, but it had become so sweat-soaked it slipped over his
eyebrows. Heavy manacles on the soldiers' feet and hands suspended them from
the dungeon's slate-grey stone walls. Moldering skeletons of former prisoners
hung from nearby walls, keeping the captives company. Seven hooded guards
watched the captives at all times; worse, this dungeon also doubled as Prince
Goro's personal domain. Sonya would never be able to free her men on her own.
	They were not holding up well. Their faces and arms were covered with
bruises from many beatings. Underneath the wrinkles of their olive uniforms,
which stank from weeks of their own filth, I suspected they had broken bones.
They were starved and dehydrated. Shang Tsung gave them no food and only the
barest minimum of water to keep them alive. The blond one was delirious; he
mumbled meaningless things under his breath. His associate stared directly
ahead, eyes unfocused, body slack. Their odds of surviving the next few days
were bleak. If I were going to use them in my scheme, I'd have to make my
move soon.
	I faded back into the shadows from which I'd come. 

*****************************************************************

	The living shadow extended both hands, bringing them together and turning
his palms sideways. Elongated, ropy tentacles of Power stretched from his
fingertips. I dodged to the side, at the same time reaching within the
bloodstained folds of my uniform. The black ropes curved, homing in on me.
They wrapped around my waist and chest, lifting me off the ground and raising
me high above Saibot's head. "I'll rip you in half!" he shrieked. The
tentacles pulled in opposite directions. My skin and muscles protested the
strain. Both my arms were pinned tightly to my chest; I wouldn't be able to
work them free in time.
	"You are pathetic, Shade!" I yelled, attacking him with words for want of a
better weapon.
	"Don't call me that!" he cried. A note of hysteria was creeping into his
voice. The pull of his tentacles lessened.
	"It is what you are, Shade! You should be thankful for your name. Your Power
has given you the one thing no other Lin Kuei can have: freedom! You could
have used your Talent to live as you please, Shade, but instead you sell
yourself into slavery and whine about your misery!"
	"Stop calling me that! Shade does not exist; I am Noob Saibot!" The
tentacles shuddered and stopped pulling completely.
	"No, you are merely a Shade, a formless spot of darkness lying in the wake
of tangible objects. You do not deserve a real name, because Shade is all you
will ever be!"
	"Stop it! STOP IT! _STOP IT_!" Frantic rage disrupted his concentration, and
with it, the ability to wield his Power. His tentacles abruptly let go of me
and melted away, as his limbs returned to normal. I flipped forward, landing
on my feet.
	"_STOP CALLING ME THAT NAME_!" He barreled toward me like a berserker, both
hands reaching for my throat. When he was almost upon me, I withdrew a
glittering object from within my uniform and thrust it into his chest. It
flared bright as noon upon my silent command.
	"Wha-?" Saibot ceased moving. His arms drooped. Beads of blackness dripped
from his outline, splashing and vanishing on the ground. The darkness forming
his body was collapsing in on itself. He sank, gradually dissolving into an
inky pool. "A Sunstone!? Where - did - youuuuu... eeeeeeerrAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
	His last scream seemed to go on and on. I could still hear it resonating in
my head well after the last trace of blackness vanished from the dry earth,
leaving behind the dull, empty husk of what had once been a Sunstone. Its
light and Saibot's darkness had canceled each other out.
	Damn.
	The rakshasa was sitting in front of me. Her lips parted, uncovering
needle-sharp teeth. "Nice kitty," I soothed, mimicking Saibot's tone of
voice.
	Shandra's fur lost its golden brilliance. Flickers of Power surrounded her.
Her limbs grew longer and slimmer; the joints realigned themselves. Her chest
bulged out and her face flattened. Cropped dark hair sprouted from her head.
In the instant it takes to draw breath, she changed form from beast to human
woman. And not just any woman.
	"'Nice kitty' my ass," Orchid sniffed, running her fingers through her
bangs. "Is he dead?" she inquired, with an offhand gesture to where Saibot
had been.
	"Does it matter?"
	"Probably not. He said he wouldn't return to Ultratech, and that's what's
important. You've done me quite a favor, getting rid of him and the others."
She smiled, if anything appearing even more voracious than she had in feline
form. "I see your hand is all better. Hope those scratches I gave you earlier
didn't hurt _too_ much."
	"False sympathy does not become you, Orchid... or should I say, 'Shandra?'"
	"Oh, I have many names. One for every day of the year."
	"Tell me something."
	"Why should I?"
	"You said I've done you a favor. Why did Ultratech want Shang Tsung dead?"
	"Isn't it obvious? Shang Tsung was horning in on Ultratech's racket - he
wanted to take over the world. There was evidence he could do it, too;
Ultratech has been watching his home territory through their satellites. When
Shang Tsung's palace imploded, they assumed he was dead. Since the Lin Kuei
never turned in a body, Ultratech never bothered paying the assassination
fee. They were still interested in you, though."
	"How did Saibot track me into Limbo?" 
	"Oh, that was my doing," she purred. "I planted a microdot relay transmitter
on your mask. Don't you remember?"
	"And you've used this device to monitor my whereabouts ever since I left
Ultratech?"
	"Well, not me personally..."
	"So Ultratech now knows the secret location of the Lin Kuei's headquarters?"
	"Oh, they've known for a while. They have their eye on your precious clan.
There's been talk of staging a takeover. Look, as much as I enjoy bantering
classified information with blood-drenched psychopaths, I can't stay much
longer. The technology that projects me here has its limits."
	"How will you return to Earth?"
	"This is the ticket." She tapped her right wrist; against her pale skin was
a thin wire ringlet. It had been invisible underneath her tiger-form's golden
fur. "Trust me, you do _not_ want to come with. This takes one into the
impregnable heart of Ultratech's foremost research facility. Several dozen
thugs with trank guns are waiting for your arrival. If you'd accepted
Saibot's offer, you would have been subdued and strapped to an operating
table."
	"For what purpose?"
	"The security cameras caught your little Winter Wonderland show. Your
talents are very similar to - ah, it's a long story, but the quick version is
half the Board of Directors thinks you're an alien, the other half thinks
you're cybernetically enhanced, and all of them want to know how the heck you
make that ice. They'd like to open you up and learn what makes you tick.
Literally."
	"I see."
	"The only way out is the one you know," she continued, a little more softly.
Her gloved hand pointed to the summit of the rocky cliffside ahead. "I
couldn't help you even if I wanted to. Saibot was telling the truth about
Limbo's final test; it is a trap where only that which you have loved can
save you, and you've never loved me." Her feline smile stretched wider. "You
wouldn't survive the experience."
	"Will the snake-demon accompany you home?" I queried, ignoring her taunt.
	"Riptor?" She glanced at the listless reptile. "No."
	"Take the creature with you."
	"Why?"
	"I kill people, not animals, and leaving him in Limbo is worse than cutting
his throat."
	She snorted. "That 'animal' is Ultratech's genetically engineered weapon,
combining reptilian DNA with human intelli-"
	"Are you going to repay your debt or aren't you?"
	Her eyes narrowed. "All right, psycho. If that's the way you want it. But
this makes us even. Got it?"
	"Yes."
	Orchid crossed to the snake-demon in a few brisk strides and lay her right
hand on his head, while adjusting the wire wristlet with the other. "Good
luck, Zero. You'll need it." 
	"That's 'Sub-Zero.'"
	"Zero." An instantaneous flash of whiteness engulfed them both. When it
faded, they faded with it.
	I reached behind my head and drew back the black hood of my uniform. The
hair underneath was matted with sweat and sewer-blood. Attempting to shake it
free merely caused it to separate into thick pieces. I pulled off my torn
mask and whatever invisible device Orchid had planted on it. A stray breeze
whisked the tattered scrap of fabric from my hand. The mask came to rest upon
the Sunstone husk. Turning away from the site of Saibot's destruction, I took
a deep breath of air that wasn't polluted with the warmth of my own
exhalations.

*****************************************************************

	My last match of the evening was against Liu Kang.
	We faced one another upon one of the narrow stone bridges that spanned the
chasm between his inner palace and the outlying area. Carved stone lions
marked both ends of the bridge. The bridge was less than a meter wide, too
narrow to safely sidestep another person. A stiff wind complicated the
already worrisome task of keeping one's balance. Scattered clouds and shadows
drifted across the rising full moon, sometimes muffling its light, sometimes
letting it illuminate the horror below.
 	Sharpened iron spikes thick as women's arms poked up from the floor of the
chasm underneath. More deadly thorns jutted out from the three concrete
pillars that supported the bridge. Many of the Tournament's battles had
already been fought on this overpass, and the remains of the losers filled
the pit. Pierced torsos, severed heads and impaled limbs littered the
gruesome expanse; congealing pools of blood resembled ink blots in the
dispassionate moonlight. This was no ordinary arena. It was a vast iron
maiden, and before the night ended either Liu Kang or I would join the others
in her embrace.
	Liu Kang did not look down. If not for the slight gleam of sweat on his bare
torso, one couldn't have guessed he'd been continuously fighting for his life
during the past several days. His lithe frame was wrapped with firm muscle,
without being bulky. Facing forward, he put his hands together and bowed. His
lips moved, as if in prayer. He was the essence of serenity: calm, measured,
accepting of his fate.
	The self-righteous hypocrite.
	He thought he was better than the rest of us. Blessed by the gods, morally
superior, holier-than-thou; whatever one calls it, it is one of the few
traits I resent. He was as much a killer as the rest of us, by virtue of his
participation in Shang Tsung's Tournament. He'd entered the bloodbath freely,
and all the pretensions in the world could not wash clean its stains.
	A chuckle came from high above. Shang Tsung was watching us; his soulless
white eyes glowed dimly in the surrounded blackness. The necromancer's mouth
twisted into a tight-lipped smile. That nameless other presence was there as
well.
	"FIGHT!" Shang Tsung commanded. 
	Liu Kang cautiously advanced on me. We would have circled one another if the
bridge had not confined us to a single line. I feinted an eye jab with my
injured hand; when he deflected my fingers with the outer edge of his
forearm, I responded with the real attack: a low punch to his solar plexus.
	I didn't touch him.
	He started turning well before my left arm could extend its full length,
took hold of it, and pulled me over his head. The muscles in my arm tore from
the strain. If Liu Kang been thinking properly he would have pitched me over
the side, but the arrogant young warrior threw me in line with the bridge.
Attempting to flip and land in a crouch, I hit the ground on my knees
instead. I tried to stand, struggling against the numb shock in my joints.
	My left arm was hurting. It would not bend more than a little. Liu Kang
approached quickly; he would be upon me before I could get up. Shifting
tactics, I summoned the Power through my right arm and cast it at the young
warrior. 
	It never touched him.
	He was somersaulting above it before it left my hands. Upon landing, he
smashed his elbow into my face, then fluidly transformed the attack into a
channel. His Power coursed through arms and exploded from his hands, a living
tooth of Fire that bit into my neck and chest.
	I was fighting defensively now, dodging when I could, blocking when I had
to, and buying time with a steady retreat. It wasn't just that Liu Kang was
fast. Though his speed was remarkable, unquestionably transcending mine, I
have held my own against fleet enemies before. It was his impeccable ability
to read my movements and instantly react. One would think he was reading my
mind, but that couldn't be. In the heat of combat, thought coincides with
action; it would take far too long for even a master sorcerer to delve into
his opponent's mind, extract his intentions, and formulate a defense. No, Liu
Kang had to be reading my body. A twitch of an eye, a turn of the wrist, the
shift of an ankle - I don't know what was giving my every action away, but
whatever it was left me open to one swift, sure attack after another. No
matter how I countered, I could not touch him. I accelerated my withdrawal
into a rapid series of back handsprings. The gymnastics were somewhat
awkward, on account of my strained left arm.
	I never saw Liu Kang's leap, only felt the crushing surge of his Power as
his foot drove into my stomach. His preternatural flying kick propelled him
faster than a dead run. The stone wall set at the bridge's far side connected
with my back and skull. Spots flew in front of my eyes. I collapsed and
vomited up blood. Shang Tsung's laughter echoed in my ears.
	Liu Kang could have finished me off then and there, but he hung back. What
was keeping him? Disdain? False apprehension? His eyebrows were pressed down,
and his brow was furrowed. Sadness colored his face. 
	He was looking at me with pity.
	Suddenly, the crippling pain in my midsection no longer mattered. The
dizziness, the way one of my legs shuddered when I put more than a little
weight on it, nothing was more important than taking that damnable bastard
down. Power surrounded me, though I couldn't remember calling it; its
quintessence numbed pain and fooled torn muscles into working. Liu Kang took
a step back. Goose bumps rose on his arm from contact with the cold
surrounding me. I charged him full-on, intending to collide with him and
force him off the bridge, even it meant falling off myself.
	I couldn't touch him.
	He sprang forward, taking hold of my shoulders and flipping over my head
before I could make contact. Be it strength, speed, or Power, his momentum
surpassed mine; as he landed, he used his grasp to throw me up and over his
head. If he'd matched the angle at which I'd rushed him, I would have been
cast off the overpass, but instead he shifted it so that I slammed face-first
against hard stone. The impact broke two of my lower teeth and made the
others cut deep into my lip. My vision blurred. My ears were ringing. The
frost I'd gathered about myself deadened my ability to feel. 
	"FINISH HIM!" Shang Tsung commanded of Liu Kang, but the young warrior
hesitated. I tried to push myself up with my hands, favoring my right arm.
Too late, I realized there was nothing supporting it. I hadn't been aware of
landing so close to the bridge's edge, or much of anything else for that
matter. My balance was lost, and I was too stunned to regain it. Slipping
over the side, I floundered for a handhold. The fingers of my right hand
still wouldn't bend properly, and they skidded off the stone. I swung,
clinging to the bridge with my left hand. It was gradually slipping. If I
weren't in such battered condition, if my right hand weren't crippled, if my
left arm had not been strained, I might have been able to pull myself back
up. As it was, I'd lose my hold and fall in a matter of seconds. 
	The wind wailed. Liu Kang's silhouette blocked out the moonlight. A flick of
his finger would send me to my doom, just as the sorcerer had bidden him to
do. His hand darted out-
	-and locked around my wrist.	
	"I've got you," he reassured, bracing himself against my weight. The
smoothness of the stone bridge complicated his effort to drag me to safety.
	 I was wrong about the young warrior. He wasn't arrogant. He was utterly
deranged.
	"Why are you doing this?" I rasped.
	"There has been too much death already."
	"I will _not_ owe my life to the likes of you!"
	"Of course not. Life is too precious to be owed or traded like a sack of
rice."
	I rejected his flights of fantasy. Life is not precious; it is commonplace,
and multiplies uncontrollably until war, famine and pestilence must keep it
in check. Life is a worthless thing of straw, easily destroyed, and soon
forgotten by the billions of new stalks sprouting over where the old stalks
have fallen. It has no value. Only honor has value. The scraps and remnants
of honor I had left could not be exchanged for rescue. I am an assassin. I've
never shown clemency to any of my victims. I never intended to have mercy on
Liu Kang. To accept his charity for myself would be unbridled hypocrisy,
absolute dishonor. Liu Kang would not have understood that, though. He was
not a hunter. His heart was too kind, his soul too pure. The only way to make
him perceive was to drive the edge of my right hand into the side of his
throat. 
	At least, that is what I tried to do. He automatically stepped back, so that
my strike <whished> across empty air. The sudden change doubled the pressure
on his right hand. My wrist, already slick with sweat, slipped from between
his thumb and fingers. His halcyon expression became one of alarm. He made
another grab for me, but for once he was not fast enough.
	Even with my last breath, I couldn't touch him. 
	Falling, I saw Liu Kang swing his legs over the bridge's side and begin to
pursue me down, using the spikes that protruded from one of the concrete
pillars as a ladder. An explosion of agony disrupted the image. Dragon teeth
burst from my body cavities, their fluid-streaked tips pointing at the
unforgiving moon. The last thing I felt was the backlash of an outraged
scream, coming from everywhere and nowhere, directed at the clambering
warrior above.
	*NO! How dare you? The Lin Kuei is MINE!*

*****************************************************************

	Have you ever stayed awake for days on end?
	After the first sixteen, hours, you tire. Then your internal workings adapt,
and you continue functioning at close to normal. How long you can keep this
up depends on your constitution. Fatigue gradually returns to tear at you.
You can push it away, but it always comes back, at shorter and shorter
intervals, each time more insistent than before. Eventually you reach the
stage where visions and unbidden ponderings drift like dreams through your
mind.
	Climbing the uneven incline, I couldn't stop thinking about Saibot and the
Lin Kuei. I'd killed more people than I can remember, all for the good of the
clan, and never cared. Why should Noob Saibot's apparent death bother me so
much?
	Near the summit, the slope made another upturn, becoming fully vertical. To
my left I glimpsed a thin fissure cutting down its length. I edged across the
slope's breadth, working my way to the fissure, and squeezed inside it. It
was narrow enough so that I could brace myself against its sides and worm my
way higher. 
	I couldn't blame Saibot for hating the Lin Kuei. He had good cause. Had I
been in his place, I might have shared his rancor. Yet as a hunter and enemy
of the clan, he was by definition no different from the countless others
whose lives I'd dispassionately claimed. For all I knew, the rest of my
victims could have had equally strong reasons to hate the Lin Kuei. The clan
is many things, but 'well-liked' is not one of them.
	I certainly didn't like the Lin Kuei. They were a cartel of tyrants, using
their strength to terrorize the weak. They'd wronged me when they forced me
to become one of them, and when Pyre tricked me into breaking my own code.
Thanks to me, my brother was one of them, and he was most likely no happier
among their ranks than I was. Yet he couldn't leave. No one turned their back
on the Lin Kuei and lived to tell of it, not anymore. I'd just destroyed the
only surviving rogue, fulfilling my duty as a loyal Lin Kuei killer.
 	Bile churned in my mouth. My eyes narrowed, and my chest tightened. A
newfound tension in my muscles made it difficult to keep my ascension steady.
A strange sensation, unfamiliar for so long, gripped my being. At first I did
not recognize it, until memories of a similar tightness in the eyes of so
many others came streaming back to me.
	Hatred.
	I hated the Lin Kuei. I hated them for what they were, and hated myself for
being one of them. It would please me if Ultratech ruined them. The desire
for their destruction was so overwhelming that I had to halt my climb and
hang in the space between rocky walls, gathering the self-control I'd need to
continue. Was this how Scorpion felt? 
	A meter above my head, the cliff leveled off. Pushing against the crevice's
walls, I edged higher still and grasped protrusions of the rocky surface
beyond, using them as anchors while I hauled myself upon the summit. The
terrain atop this bluff was not unlike the landscape below, except for the
dry human and animal bones scattered about. The glaring sun stretched their
shadows several times their original length. Some of the remains were in
splinters. A rusty saber had been snapped in two, its halves lying next to a
piecemeal array of bones...
	Oh, no.
	I knew this place. It was where I'd first arrived in Limbo. Every detail
matched. Even the faint marks of where I'd struggled against Saibot's
creatures were there.
	A memory detached itself from the morass in my mind. I recalled my little
brother, only eight years old, showing me a trick he'd learned from his
beloved books. 
	(Look at this, elder brother,) he'd said, holding up a long white strip.
(Just a plain length of paper, wouldn't you agree?)
	(Very plain,) I responded, humoring him.
	(Watch.) He gave the strip a half-twist and joined its ends together.
(Doesn't appear much different from an ordinary loop, does it?)
	(Not particularly.)
	(But it is.) He picked up a brush and started drawing a line along the
loop's outer side. (Look, my brush never leaves the surface!) His line
stretched around the loop's exterior and around the twist, continuing on the
loop's _interior_ until it reached its starting point. No part of the loop
had been left untouched. (See? It looks like it has two sides, but it really
has just one. You can traverse its entire surface and wind up exactly where
you started from. They call this a "Moebus strip.")
	I was nothing but the tip of a brush, blazing a trail across a gulf that I
thought had two sides, but in truth had only one. All I'd done was travel in
a great loop. Despair overwhelmed me. I sagged to my knees and slumped over,
realizing that Saibot had earned the last laugh.
	The crushing pressure of a choke hold jolted me out of my reverie. It had
arisen out of nowhere, a stiff hand wrapping itself around my neck and
lifting me off my feet. 
	*At last,* surged Scorpion's sepulchral voice, *your soul belongs to _ME_!*
His eerie laughter filled my ears. His grip on my throat left enough slack
for me to gasp a sliver of breath. He wanted to strangle me slowly. I did not
intend to let him, yet when I drove my elbow into where his head should have
been, it encountered no resistance. My flailing kicks encountered nothing
solid. It was like battling a vapor.
	*Go ahead,* the specter jeered. *Struggle. Try to fight back. It makes my
victory all the sweeter. I've waited longer than you know for this!* He
tightened his choke hold, completely cutting off my air supply. I'd already
summoned the Power to my aid, but I couldn't use it on something that could
not be touched. Even his bony fingers around my throat were not tangible save
by their crushing pressure on my windpipe.
	Something was very wrong. If I weren't on the verge of blacking out, I might
have been quicker to deduce what it was.