Date: Sat, 17 Feb 1996 21:55:33 -0500
From: Vctr113062@aol.com
Message-Id: <960217215532_146996480@emout06.mail.aol.com>
To: jevans@MIT.EDU
Subject: Winter 16/16

	"No. You didn't have to do that," I whispered. She didn't have to throw away
her life to protect my worthless existence. She had no right to make that
decision. I'd rather Shang Tsung had killed me. I'd rather anything but this.
	Damn it all. She didn't have the right.
	Warm bitterness welled within the inside corners of my eyes, in sharp
contrast to the chill lacing my intestines. The still pool of water reflected
an impossibility - twin droplets of moisture gradually trickling down the
stranger's cheeks. They hung from either side of his chin for a moment, then
fell free. A pair of expanding concentric ripples sprouted upon the pool's
surface, breaking up the reflection.
	The shimmering ripples changed color to gold.
	Bubbles floated and burst upon the now gilded pool. It boiled without sound
or heat, emitting bright beams of piercing light instead. From everywhere and
nowhere came a sibilant, familiar whisper, quiet as silt, soft as soapstone.
	#For every path into Limbo, there is a way out.#
	The pond's roughly circular border glowed with golden radiance, while the
center flickered with a multitude of different colors, shapes and patterns.
	#Choose your destiny.#
	"-any new information?" I jerked bolt upright, recognizing my brother's
voice. 
	An image of my Lin Kuei quarters molded in the pool's center, with vibrance
and texture far more substantial than any mere reflection. Frost coated the
surrounding walls. A throne of carved ice lay in the background. Looking into
the hub, I saw my young brother putting on the last few vestments of Lin Kuei
ceremonial garb. His uniform was colored black with deep blue highlights, as
befits an Ice master. Smoke was there too. He was wearing his mask. The scene
in the pool was so clear, so real I felt like I could step into it - and
suddenly, without being told, I knew I could do exactly that. If I so chose.
	"I received a message," Smoke rasped, "from a being who called himself
Raiden." He shook his head. "I stopped believing in gods and devils a long
time ago, but Raiden is not a god then I haven't a clue what-"
	"Will you get to the point?"
 	"The message was about a blood debt that I owe your brother. I was
reluctant to believe it earlier, but I'm beginning to think he really is
dead. If he were still around, he would have demanded repayment in person. He
never did like relying on intermediaries."
	"That is far from empirical proof."
	"In any case, it seems that a second Tournament approaches. I'm going to be
there."
	"No, you are not. I am," the young Ice master corrected, drawing the
uniform's sable hood over his head. "I can think of no better place to start
looking for answers." 
	"There might be one. The last time I saw your brother, he had just crafted a
book out of  ice. It carried a dormant enchantment."
	"Yes, I felt its presence within the throne the moment I entered this
chamber. The first page has a single sentence: 'Only an Ice master can read
this.' The rest of it is blank."
	"Not very helpful. Hm. I thought that your finding the book might activate
its Power, but something else must be the trigger. Still, are you sure you
want to risk your life on the off-chance you might learn what happened to-"
	"This isn't solely about my brother," he interrupted, slipping on his pair
of fingerless gloves and pulling them taut. "Shang Tsung's patron _must_ be
stopped."
	"How would you know about Shang Tsung's patron?"
	"Because Raiden also appeared to me. He told me about this second
Tournament, and the threat it poses to our world. I'm one of the few mortals
with a chance of turning back that threat."
	"And your instructor is not?"
	"That isn't the issue. You should _not_ engage in strenuous activity; I
won't hear any more protests."
	"Yes Master," Smoke drawled, a little too obsequiously.
	"I told you not to call me that," my brother sighed, slightly vexed. "You
are a free man now. Get used to it."
	"Indeed? Then you cannot forbid me to play a role in this Tournament. Not in
any meaningful sense."
	"What? Smoke, don't fool yourself, you aren't ready to-"
	"I am always ready," he interrupted, quietly. "Your concern is touching, but
should be saved for yourself. I know my limits better than you think."
	"Hmph. Ninja make the worst patients."
	"Oh, and what am I supposed to call you while we're there? You haven't
selected a use-name for yourself yet."
	"Then I choose one now." He adjusted the deep blue mask so that it covered
his entire face except for his eyes. His build was a little shorter and
slighter than mine, but the uniform concealed the disparity. Only someone who
knew both of us extremely well could have distinguished the difference. "I
will be Sub-Zero. If my brother objects to that, he can come to me and
complain. In fact, I hope he does."
	The dull knife of creeping coldness within twisted when I heard that name. A
series of uncontrollable shivers wracked me. I had been on the verge of
reaching for the pool's sparkling surface; yet now I remembered that the last
time I interfered with my brother's destiny, I'd wronged him greatly.
	#Choose.#
	"No. Not there," I replied, shaking my head. "It is for the best. Show me
someplace else."
	The image in the pool faded, replaced by a flat obsidian expanse marked with
a pentagram. Burned-out, melted remains of white candles rested on its five
points. A desiccated corpse lay in the center. Though the face was too
pinched and mummified to recognize, the yellow-and-black clothing on the
remains precisely matched what Shang Tsung had been wearing when I confronted
him in his youthful form. A shadow fell over the husk.
	"SO, IT IS TRUE," boomed a deep, insidious voice. While I could not see the
speaker, the fringe of his loathsome aura infested the edge of my
perspective. So much corrupted Power flowed through him that he was close to
the threshold of godhood. He could be none other than Shang Tsung's patron,
Emperor Shao Kahn. "HOW IN ALL THE WORLDS WERE YOU KILLED WHILE IN A STATE OF
ASTRAL PROJECTION? I MUST KNOW. I _SHALL_ KNOW!"
	A streak of green electricity jolted Shang Tsung's body. His limbs twitched
wildly, and his back arched off the floor. Dry, shriveled skin became softer
and smoother. In a matter of seconds, the husk transmuted into flesh and
blood. The electricity vanished. Shang Tsung started to breathe.
	"AWAKEN, SLAVE!" Another jolt of viridescent electricity hit him, but its
purpose this time was to hurt, not to heal. Shang Tsung screamed in pain,
involuntarily writhing from the affliction. The Kahn chuckled, and continued
the torture for a full thirty seconds after the necromancer's milk-white,
pupilless eyes opened.
	"-fair!" gasped the necromancer. His face rapidly cycled through a series of
expressions - fear, shock, anger, frustration, hatred, and back to fear.
"M-master! I can explain-"
	"NO NEED." Shang Tsung screeched and clutched his head. "I ADVISE YOU TO BE
STILL. THE MORE YOU FIGHT THE MIND PROBE, THE LONGER IT WILL TAKE," Shao Kahn
sneered. The necromancer stifled his cries, though an expression of agony
remained on his face. 
	"SO THAT IS HOW IT WAS DONE," mused the Kahn, after an interminable
interlude. Shang Tsung let go of his head and sprawled on the floor, heaving
and shuddering. "YOU ARE FORTUNATE YOU DID NOT HAVE THE COURAGE TO FACE THIS
MORTAL IN PERSON, OR YOU WOULD HAVE LOST YOUR LIFE AND SOUL TO LIMBO!" The
fell emperor's pronouncement gave way to mocking laughter.
	"I'm quite aware of that," Shang Tsung muttered, gritting his teeth.
	"INDEED? AND ARE YOU AWARE HOW MUCH OF _MY_ POWER YOU WASTED, LOST FOREVER
TO THAT INSATIABLE DESERT?"
	"I-I didn't mean-"
	"SILENCE!" One more flash of emerald electricity engulfed the necromancer;
to his credit, he bit back the urge to cry out. "YOU ARE DOUBLY FORTUNATE
THAT I AM IN A MERCIFUL MOOD, SLAVE. SINCE I HAVE ALREADY EXPENDED THE EFFORT
TO REANIMATE YOU, YOU MAY AS WELL STAY ALIVE, SO LONG AS YOU REMAIN USEFUL -
BUT DO NOT EXPECT TO BORROW POWER FROM ME AGAIN! FROM THIS MOMENT HEREON YOU
ARE FORBIDDEN TO USE ASTRAL PROJECTION, OR ANY OTHER TECHNIQUE BEYOND YOUR
_OWN_ MEAGER SKILLS!"
	Shang Tsung nervously licked his lips. "Y-yes, Master. Thank you, Master."
Though the sorcerer mouthed words of gratitude, poorly restrained fury raged
in his eyes. 
	"OH, AND SLAVE... TRY NOT TO GET KILLED AGAIN, UNLESS IT IS IN A SUITABLY
AMUSING MANNER." Shao Kahn bellowed in laughter while the necromancer's ears
burned red.
	#Choose.#
	I'd killed Shang Tsung once, and drained a significant portion of his
master's Power, yet it was a Pyrrhic victory. When I accepted the final
contract, I had known that my life and soul could be forfeit; such are the
hazards of being an assassin. The final price had been higher than that.
Infinitely higher.
	Damn her. She never had the right...
	"No," I whispered, pressing one arm against the cold spike in my gut. "It is
time for the others to carry on the fight against Shang Tsung and his patron.
Show me something else." 
	The image in the pool metamorphosed into steaming pools of lava, flowing
amidst tracks of scorched earth. Rising out of the superheated depths were
columns of human skulls, randomly fused with muted yellow-and-brown mortar.
Scorpion crouched atop the highest skull column, oblivious to his
surroundings. His mask and hood were down, baring the fleshless skull that
formed his head. His right hand was held out, palm upturned. A small bonfire
burned upon the skeletal hand. The wavering form of a woman appeared in the
fire.
	*Mei. I would give anything to see you again, to talk to you,* the specter
intoned, sorrowfully. *You were always the practical one. You could make
sense out of anything, no matter how insane.*
	*I was allowed to return and avenge my death, Mei, but I can never again
know you or our son. Existing in this cursed form, I can only observe, and I
have seen something I do not understand. You believe the money that supports
your wages and sends our boy to a private school comes from your relatives.
It doesn't. They are merely intermediaries for an anonymous benefactor. I
have discovered the sponsor's identity. He is none other than the assassin
who murdered me. The fund he set up continues to sustain you, even though I
have killed him.*
	Scorpion's free hand closed into a tightly drawn fist. *It has to be a trap.
Killing me wasn't enough; he wanted to gain leverage over you as well. I've
exhausted myself in a search to learn more about his evil plan. Do you know
what I found?* 
	*Nothing.*
	*If he plotted to assassinate you, or enslave you, or extract a price in
exchange for the donations, the scheme died with him. His own clan of killers
does not know where he funneled his blood money. It doesn't make sense. Why
did the fiend arrange this act of generosity? Did he think it would appease
my wrath? If so, he was in error.* Scorpion drew his clenched fist close to
where his heart once was. *I showed him no more mercy than he showed me!*
	*I wish you could advise me, Mei. I would come back to you if I could. If
there were any way. There is none. So I have devoted myself to the one thing
I have left: revenge. I was trained, reforged, reborn in the fires of Hell
for a single purpose: to destroy my murderer! And I succeeded. At long last,
_vengeance is mine_...!* As he voiced the proclamation, Scorpion, rose to his
feet, lifting his fist in triumph. His head tilted back, raising his hollow
eye sockets to whatever passes for a sky in Hell. 
	Then gradually, his undead gaze fell until it came to rest on the picture
once more. His legs wobbled, folding back into a crouch. The fire-picture in
his right hand died. He slumped, lowering his free arm. Its bony fist
unclenched; the fingers hung limp and listless.
	*...and I don't know what to do.*
	#Choose.#
	"No," I responded, succumbing to another episode of shivering. I killed
Scorpion. He had as good as killed me. Our score was settled. 
	The scene in the pool changed to a lavish set of Lin Kuei personal quarters,
decorated entirely in black. Hurricane and Toxin were each on one knee,
respectfully addressing the shrouded Unknown.
	"We don't mean to contest your wisdom," Hurricane muttered, glancing
alternately at the Unknown's folded arms and the floor's scarlet carpeting.
"It is only that Ultratech has held no love for us in the past. Are you sure
that-" The Unknown's back was turned to me, so that I could not see what he
signed, but whatever it was silenced Hurricane. The blue-and-white clad ninja
swallowed, hanging his head.
	"The Lin Kuei has survived without technology for over a millennium!" Toxin
burst out, daring to lift her eyes to the Unknown's masked face. "We have no
need of this alliance!" Standing up, the Unknown made a series of curt
gestures that whipped the draping sleeves of his robe about.
	"No, Lord. I-I do not challenge your authority," she stammered, looking
away. The Unknown turned in my direction, moving one hand in a slashing line
from up to down. Both his counsel obeyed the dismissal. 
	The Unknown took off his ebony gloves. As he moved to set them aside, I saw
that he wore a second set of gloves underneath; only this pair was of a
rubbery material instead of cloth, and had sections of metal grafted onto the
back of the hand and finger joints. He extended a short length of wire from
the metal backing over his right hand. A sound akin to waves breaking on the
seashore came from the extension, followed by neutral voice speaking flatly
in English.
	"Contact made. Please state passcode." The Unknown removed his one-way
kuroko mask. 
	If it were possible for my blood to run any colder, it did.
	Behind the mask was a monstrous visage of grey metal. A slotted red grate
fitted over the mouth. Two lengths of corrugated tubing wound around the back
of his head, touching either cheek. Instead of eyes, the vaguely manlike
construct sported soulless, oblong openings filled with darkness. I'd seen a
head like this once before - atop the yellow abomination in Pyre's
laboratory.
	+Predisposition to kill.+ The voice from the slotted grate carried an alien,
vibrating modulation, but its general tone stirred my memory.
	"Level one passcode accepted. Please state designation and message."
	+Designation: Unit LK-9T9. Message: internal discontent over stage one of
Operation: Mass Reprogram noted. This unit recommends accelerating the
timetable.+
	"Designation and message recorded. End contact." The Unknown compressed the
wire back inside his glove. That was when I remembered to whom his voice
belonged:
	Sektor.
	It would have been an act of mercy to kill him when I had the chance. 
	#Choose.#
	"No. Nothing I could do to him would be worse than what he has done to
himself." The pool's image dissolved into a tangled blend of hypnotic colors.
	This could continue without end. I'd earned the right to leave Limbo, yet
there was nowhere I wanted to go. The worlds shown in the pool no longer had
any hold upon me. Whatever ties there once had been died with my beautiful
ice dragon. All that remained was bottomless grief.
	I was wrong. There are worse things than to have one's heart frozen stiff
and still.
	"Show me..." I had to stop and cough for a moment. "Show me a place where I
can find peace."
	The pool obliged. Its colors faded, yielding to a serene grey haze. Nothing
intruded upon the misty expanse. Its quiescence was soothing to behold. I
looked at the calm grey domain, basking in the reflection of its tranquility.
This was a land without joy, but also without sorrow.
	"Yes. There," I aspirated, no longer able to voice the words. "I shall go
there."
	It is the coming of winter for me. This tome of Ice is your legacy, little
brother. The Power I applied to its pages will now transcribe all that has
happened, so that you know the truth; and it will record all the mistakes I
have made, so that you do not repeat them.

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

	Damn you.
	To use your own words, _you didn't have the right_! Why didn't you come back
when you had the chance? I've read these last paragraphs over and over,
trying to understand, and I don't. I never will. We've had our differences, I
know, but that is the poorest, rottenest justification I have ever - why
didn't you come back?
	Didn't you realize? _I've found a cure_ for the affliction that plagues Lin
Kuei with the Talent! Smoke agreed to subject himself to my tests. Through
work, systematic elimination, and a miraculous streak of luck I tracked the
cause of his ailment to a defective gene common to Lin Kuei bloodlines. Most
Lin Kuei with the Power come from eight ancestral families, all of which can
be traced to a single province. The gene only creates a finite amount of
antigen proteins essential to maintaining the metabolical balance between
organic and hypergeometic bodily functions. Eventual deficiency of these
antigens has disastrous consequences, but their role can be supplanted by-
	-oh, even if you can hear this, you'd just shake your head and tune it out,
like you always did. What's important is that the treatment worked on Smoke.
I couldn't stop him from seeking out Shao Kahn's Tournament before he'd fully
recovered, but the preternatural decay in his lungs stopped, even repaired
itself to some degree. I would have tested the remedy on more clan members if
I'd had the opportunity. I've treated myself as well. Unless my research is
seriously mistaken, the Power's final curse will never fall upon me.
	More has happened since then. Much more. I escaped from Shao Kahn's
Tournament, but he has since found a way to reach our world and wreak
unspeakable havoc. The Kahn has sent his Outworld legions to destroy what few
mortals whose souls he cannot dominate, including me. The Lin Kuei clan as
you know it is no more. Most of its members have been willingly or
unwillingly turned into cyborg slaves, thanks to Sektor and his alliance with
Ultratech. Smoke and I were ignorant of their decline when we returned to
warn them. I barely got away with this book and my life. Smoke was not so
lucky. I'm on my own.
	The Lin Kuei have sent their automated killers after me. Sektor leads the
hunt, no longer constrained to hide his visage now that the clan has fallen.
To this day, he burns with rage over the deaths of his brother and
grandfather. He never dared to act openly when you were alive, but with you
out of the way he intends to have revenge on me. Everyone thinks you are
dead. I refuse to believe it. Brother, wherever you are, please come back!
The world needs you. I need you.
	Come back!