Day 3 of the Occupation.
The wind howled around the fourth-floor balcony of Muscle Tower. I stood with my back to the blizzard, my glowing green eyes fixed on the small, red-haired figure standing by the broken blast doors.
"Go away," I said. My voice was a distorted growl, layered with the hiss of the Netherrealm.
Suno adjusted her thick winter scarf. She was holding a thermos. "My mom made pork stew. It's hot."
"I do not eat stew," I stepped forward, the green veins in my exposed chest pulsing violently. "I devour life force. I drink the fear of dying men. Look at me, girl. Do I look like I want soup?"
Suno looked at my chest—at the exposed ribcage and the swirling vortex of chaos magic where a heart should be. She blinked.
"You look cold," she said. She set the thermos down on the concrete. "I'll leave it here."
She turned and walked back down the stairs.
I stared at the thermos.
"Saibot," I commanded.
The shadow rose from the floor, eyeing the container suspiciously.
"Destroy it."
Saibot punted the thermos off the balcony. It fell four stories and shattered on the ice below.
"Message sent," I rasped.
Day 7.
I was meditating in the command center, floating three feet off the ground in a lotus position, surrounded by six shadow clones who were sharpening their sickles. The air was thick with killing intent.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound came from the heavy steel door I had repaired.
I opened my eyes. "She returned."
I waved my hand. The door flew open with a telekinetic slam.
Suno stood there. She had a basket this time. Fresh bread.
"You broke the thermos," she noted, stepping inside. She looked at the shadow clones. The clones hissed, their white eyes narrowing, their bodies contorting into unnatural, jagged shapes. One clone crawled onto the ceiling, its head twisting 180 degrees to stare at her.
Suno looked up at it. "That's a neat trick."
I floated down, landing with a heavy thud that cracked the floor tiles. I towered over her, seven feet of nightmares.
"Do you have a death wish?" I leaned down, my fused mask inches from her face. I cranked up the Fear Aura. I projected images of the Netherrealm directly into her mind—visions of endless grey oceans, screaming souls, and hooks tearing flesh.
Suno flinched. She squeezed her eyes shut and trembled.
"Good," I thought. "Run."
She took a deep breath, opened her eyes—which were watery—and held out the basket.
"The Chief says everyone needs to eat. Even monsters."
I swiped the basket out of her hand. It hit the wall, spilling bread rolls everywhere.
"I AM NOT A PERSON!" I roared, the green fire flaring around me. "I am a corpse! I am a killer! I slaughtered fifty men in this room a week ago! Their blood is still under these tiles!"
"But you didn't kill the Chief," Suno argued, her voice shaking but stubborn. "And you didn't kill me."
"Because you are insignificant!"
"Or because you're lonely!"
Silence stretched across the room. The shadow clone on the ceiling dropped down, landing silently.
I stared at her. This 10-year-old girl was psychoanalyzing a wraith.
"Get out," I whispered, turning my back. "Before I change my mind."
Day 14.
She was back.
I was outside, testing the range of my Shadow Portals on the frozen lake. I saw her trudging through the snowdrift, struggling against the wind. She was carrying a heavy blanket.
I didn't wait for her to reach me.
Teleport.
I appeared directly in front of her. I grabbed her by the collar of her coat and lifted her into the air.
"Enough!" I shouted.
I opened a portal behind me. It wasn't a travel portal. It was a window.
"Look!" I commanded, spinning her around.
Inside the portal was the Shadow Realm. It was a void of sensory deprivation. No light. No sound. Just cold, hungry darkness that wanted to strip the flesh from your bones.
"That is my home!" I yelled over the wind. "There is no warmth there! There are no friends! It is a hell where only the strong survive! If I throw you in there, you will dissolve in seconds!"
Suno stared into the abyss. The void stared back.
She didn't scream. She reached out a mitten-covered hand and touched the edge of the portal. The black energy sizzled against the wool.
"It looks... sad," she whispered.
My grip on her coat loosened.
"What?"
"It's just empty," she said, looking back at me. "That's why you're so angry. You have nowhere to go."
She held up the blanket. "This is for you. The metal in the tower gets cold at night."
I dropped her. She landed softly in the snow.
I grabbed the blanket. I summoned green fire into my hand and incinerated it instantly. The ashes scattered in the wind.
"I do not feel cold," I said, my voice flat.
"Then why do you shiver?" she asked.
I froze. Was I shivering? I looked at my hands. The black claws were trembling slightly. It wasn't from cold temperature—it was from the unstable Chaos energy coursing through my ruined nervous system. The pain was constant.
"Go home, Suno," I said, turning away. "The Red Ribbon Army will return. If you are here when they do, you will be collateral damage."
"I'm not scared of them," she said, brushing snow off her coat. "And I'm not scared of you anymore, Mr. Noob."
"My name is Noob Saibot."
"Mr. Saibot. See you tomorrow."
She turned and walked away.
I stood there, watching her go. I raised my hand. I could end this. One Shadow Sickle to the back. A quick, painless death. It would seal my reputation as a monster. It would ensure no villager ever came near the tower again.
I summoned the Sickle. The black blade hummed.
I aimed.
My hand wouldn't move.
Pathetic, the Shadow hissed in my mind. Weakness.
"No," I dismissed the weapon. "Economy of force. She is not a threat. Killing her wastes energy."
Liar, the Shadow sneered.
Day 21.
I sat in the command chair of Muscle Tower. The room had been cleaned. The blood was gone. The shattered monitors had been repaired using scavenged parts.
Suno sat on a crate across from me. She was eating a rice ball.
"So," she chewed. "Are you an alien?"
"No."
"A demon?"
"Technically a Wraith. A revenant from the Fifth Plane of the Netherrealm."
"My grandma says you're a mountain spirit."
"Your grandma is senile."
I was looking at a map of the world I had stolen from General White's database. I was tracking the movements of the Dragon Balls.
"Why do you wear that mask?" she asked.
"It is fused to my skull," I replied without looking up. "It holds my face together."
"Does it hurt?"
I stopped tracing the map.
"Yes."
Suno stood up. She walked over to me. I tensed. My shadow clones emerged from the floor, ready to strike.
"Down," I commanded them.
Suno reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, crumpled sticker. It was a cartoon sticker of a smiling bear.
She reached up. I was sitting, so my head was level with hers. She placed the sticker on the cheek of my terrifying, skeletal mask.
"There," she smiled. "Now you look friendly."
I slowly reached up and touched the sticker. A sticker on the face of the ruler of the Netherrealm. Shao Kahn would have laughed me out of the arena.
"You are the most annoying creature I have ever met," I said.
"I know," she beamed. "See you tomorrow?"
I sighed—a sound like a crypt door closing.
"Bring tea next time," I rasped. "Green tea. The soup... makes a mess."
Suno's eyes lit up. "Okay! Green tea!"
She ran out of the room, skipping.
I sat alone in the dark tower, a cartoon bear sticker on my face, pulsing with the energy of a thousand dead souls.
"Saibot," I said.
Master.
"Patrol the perimeter. Ensure she gets home safely. If a wolf touches her... skin it."
As you wish.
The shadow slid out the door.
I leaned back in the chair. I had failed to scare her. I had failed to be the monster.
Or perhaps, I reasoned, every Emperor needs a subject. And if my only subject was a ten-year-old girl with a basket of rice balls... well, at least the tribute was consistent.
I looked at the map again. The Dragon Radar signal was moving North.
"Goku is coming," I realized.
I touched the sticker on my mask again.
"Let him come."