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Serrated Shadows: Mileena's Kombat Elegance by Jade Gretz

Mileena, her crimson veil a stark contrast to the bone-chilling wasteland that stretched before her, knelt beside the fallen Tarkatan warrior. Baraka, his once-proud posture now slumped and broken, rasped like a dying beast. The stench of burnt flesh and ozone filled the air, a grim souvenir of their recent encounter with the Lin Kuei cyborg, Sektor.

Anger flickered through Mileena's reptilian eyes. Sektor, that soulless machine, had not only ambushed them, but had also managed to land a critical blow on Baraka, his cybernetic arm spewing out a torrent of crackling energy that charred the warrior's chest.

Their uneasy alliance, forged in the fires of mutual desperation, had been put to the ultimate test. Mileena, exiled princess of Outworld and half-clone of the venerated Kitana, needed Baraka's strength and knowledge of Outworld's hidden pathways to reach the Soul Chamber, a legendary repository of arcane magic rumored to hold the key to unlocking her true potential. Baraka, chieftain of the Tarkatan clan, ostracized and hunted by Shao Kahn's regime, needed Mileena's strategic mind and ferocity to overthrow the false emperor.

A complicated dance it was, this alliance. Mileena loathed Baraka's savage ferocity. His guttural growls and barbaric customs grated on her sensibilities. But she respected his unwavering loyalty to his clan, a trait she envied and simultaneously despised. Baraka, in turn, saw Mileena as a usurper, a twisted mockery of his idealized Tarkatan queen – Skarlet. Yet, he acknowledged her fighting prowess and cunning, a begrudging respect that fueled their fragile partnership.

"Baraka," Mileena rasped, her voice laced with a rare tinge of concern. "Can you hear me?"

Baraka's one remaining eye fluttered open, a sliver of defiance glinting within. "Weakling cyborg…" he coughed, a splatter of blood staining his chin. "Too…slow…"

A wave of relief washed over Mileena. Not dead. Not yet. But his condition was dire. The Soul Chamber, their only hope, seemed further away than ever.

She tore a strip of cloth from her tattered cloak, using it to bind Baraka's wounded chest with a practiced hand. Her movements, though graceful, belied a hidden brutality honed through years of ruthless combat.

"We need to reach a hidden oasis," Mileena explained, her voice firm. "There's a spring rumored to possess healing properties. It's our only chance."

Baraka grunted, his voice weak. "Oasis…miles…east…"

Mileena hefted him onto her back, a surprising surge of strength coursing through her despite her own fatigue. Baraka, once a towering figure of savage grace, felt alarmingly light in her arms, a testament to the severity of his injury.

The journey was arduous. The desolate Outworld landscape, a parched canvas of scorched sand and jagged rock formations, offered no respite from the relentless sun. Mileena, guided by Baraka's mumbled instructions, navigated the treacherous terrain, her bare feet sinking into the scorching sand with each step.

Memories, both vivid and unwelcome, surfaced from the depths of her troubled past. Images of Kitana, her perfect Edenian counterpart, haunted her. The constant comparisons, the whispers of "failure," the gnawing insecurity that clawed at her soul. Her existence, a cruel mockery of her sister's beauty and grace.

Then there was Shao Kahn, the false emperor, the man who had twisted her very creation, who saw her only as a weapon, a tool to be used and discarded. The memory of his callous disregard fueled a fire in Mileena's belly, a burning need to prove her worth, to carve her own destiny separate from those who sought to control her.

Suddenly, a flicker of movement in the distance caught her eye. A lone Tarkatan warrior, his back to her, stood silhouetted against the blood-red horizon. Hope flared – perhaps a stray from Baraka's clan, someone who could offer aid.

"Tarkatan!" Mileena called out, her voice hoarse from the journey.

The figure turned, revealing a familiar face, its flesh marred by recent scars – Skarlet, the banished blood mage, and the object of Baraka's unspoken devotion. A flicker of surprise, quickly masked by a steely resolve, crossed her features.

"Mileena," Skarlet spat, her crimson eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. "You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you," Mileena countered, her grip tightening on Baraka's inert form. "Baraka is injured. We need help."

Skarlet's gaze shifted to the unconscious Baraka, then back to Mileena. A tense silence hung in the air, thick with unspoken emotions and the oppressive heat of the wasteland. After what felt like an eternity, Skarlet spoke, her voice laced with disdain.

"Baraka's weakness is his undoing. He has no place in the new Outworld I envision."

Mileena's lips curled into a snarl. "And what new Outworld is that? One ruled by blood magic and paranoia?"

Skarlet stepped closer, her crimson eyes boring into Mileena's. "An Outworld free from tyranny, from the false emperor and his twisted experiments!" The words hung heavy, a veiled accusation aimed at Mileena's own Tarkatan heritage.

"Then help us reach the oasis," Mileena growled, her voice low and dangerous. "Baraka may be weak, but he fights for his people. A cause you once championed as well."

Skarlet hesitated, her crimson eyes flickering between Mileena and Baraka. Finally, a grudging acceptance settled on her features. "Follow me," she rasped, turning and striding purposefully towards the east.

The journey that followed was a fragile dance. Mileena, forced to rely on her hated rival, remained vigilant. Baraka, unconscious but still a burden on her back, served as a constant reminder of their precarious situation.

Skarlet led them through a labyrinth of treacherous canyons, her knowledge of the Outworld's hidden pathways proving invaluable. As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the desolate landscape, they finally reached their destination.

The oasis, a glistening jewel nestled within the harsh environment, offered a welcome respite. A crystal-clear spring bubbled from the center, its water radiating a cool, life-giving energy.

Skarlet gently helped Mileena lower Baraka onto the soft, sandy ground. Together, they used the water to clean his wounds and apply a poultice of crushed herbs from Skarlet's hidden pouch. The blood mage's touch, though rough, held a surprising gentleness, a hint of the woman beneath the warrior's facade.

As the night deepened, a fragile truce settled amongst the unlikely trio. Mileena, revitalized by the spring water, guarded the perimeter while Skarlet tended to Baraka. The silence was punctuated only by the crackling of a small fire Skarlet had managed to coax to life and Baraka's labored breaths.

In the flickering firelight, Mileena watched Skarlet work, a sense of unease coiling in her stomach. Skarlet's power, the way she manipulated blood with such effortless grace, sent shivers down Mileena's spine. It was a power eerily similar to Shao Kahn's, a power that had birthed Mileena into this world of unending conflict.

Suddenly, Skarlet spoke, her voice quiet but carrying a chilling certainty. "You seek the Soul Chamber, don't you?"

Mileena jerked her head up, a flicker of surprise betraying her. "How do you..." she began, but Skarlet cut her off.

"I know more than you think, Mileena. The secrets of Outworld run deep, and some are best left buried."

Mileena narrowed her eyes. "Do you plan to stop me?"

Skarlet offered a wry smile. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. But know this," she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a low whisper. "The power you seek, it doesn't come without a price. A price you may not be willing to pay."

Mileena met Skarlet's gaze, a steely resolve mirroring the blood mage's intensity. "I've paid my price since the day I was created," she spat. "The true question is, are you willing to stand on the side of freedom, or will you remain a slave to your past?"

The night stretched on, thick with unspoken threats and a growing sense of urgency. The unlikely alliance, forged in the crucible of necessity, hung on a knife's edge. As dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and orange, Mileena knew two things for certain: they wouldn't reach the Soul Chamber alone, and the greatest threat to their mission may not be Sektor or Shao Kahn, but the dark secrets and conflicting desires that resided within their own ranks.

...for more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue, power girl, poison ivy and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support

Description
Serrated Shadows: Mileena's Kombat Elegance by Jade Gretz

Mileena, her crimson veil a stark contrast to the bone-chilling wasteland that stretched before her, knelt beside the fallen Tarkatan warrior. Baraka, his once-proud posture now slumped and broken, rasped like a dying beast. The stench of burnt flesh and ozone filled the air, a grim souvenir of their recent encounter with the Lin Kuei cyborg, Sektor.

Anger flickered through Mileena's reptilian eyes. Sektor, that soulless machine, had not only ambushed them, but had also managed to land a critical blow on Baraka, his cybernetic arm spewing out a torrent of crackling energy that charred the warrior's chest.

Their uneasy alliance, forged in the fires of mutual desperation, had been put to the ultimate test. Mileena, exiled princess of Outworld and half-clone of the venerated Kitana, needed Baraka's strength and knowledge of Outworld's hidden pathways to reach the Soul Chamber, a legendary repository of arcane magic rumored to hold the key to unlocking her true potential. Baraka, chieftain of the Tarkatan clan, ostracized and hunted by Shao Kahn's regime, needed Mileena's strategic mind and ferocity to overthrow the false emperor.

A complicated dance it was, this alliance. Mileena loathed Baraka's savage ferocity. His guttural growls and barbaric customs grated on her sensibilities. But she respected his unwavering loyalty to his clan, a trait she envied and simultaneously despised. Baraka, in turn, saw Mileena as a usurper, a twisted mockery of his idealized Tarkatan queen – Skarlet. Yet, he acknowledged her fighting prowess and cunning, a begrudging respect that fueled their fragile partnership.

"Baraka," Mileena rasped, her voice laced with a rare tinge of concern. "Can you hear me?"

Baraka's one remaining eye fluttered open, a sliver of defiance glinting within. "Weakling cyborg…" he coughed, a splatter of blood staining his chin. "Too…slow…"

A wave of relief washed over Mileena. Not dead. Not yet. But his condition was dire. The Soul Chamber, their only hope, seemed further away than ever.

She tore a strip of cloth from her tattered cloak, using it to bind Baraka's wounded chest with a practiced hand. Her movements, though graceful, belied a hidden brutality honed through years of ruthless combat.

"We need to reach a hidden oasis," Mileena explained, her voice firm. "There's a spring rumored to possess healing properties. It's our only chance."

Baraka grunted, his voice weak. "Oasis…miles…east…"

Mileena hefted him onto her back, a surprising surge of strength coursing through her despite her own fatigue. Baraka, once a towering figure of savage grace, felt alarmingly light in her arms, a testament to the severity of his injury.

The journey was arduous. The desolate Outworld landscape, a parched canvas of scorched sand and jagged rock formations, offered no respite from the relentless sun. Mileena, guided by Baraka's mumbled instructions, navigated the treacherous terrain, her bare feet sinking into the scorching sand with each step.

Memories, both vivid and unwelcome, surfaced from the depths of her troubled past. Images of Kitana, her perfect Edenian counterpart, haunted her. The constant comparisons, the whispers of "failure," the gnawing insecurity that clawed at her soul. Her existence, a cruel mockery of her sister's beauty and grace.

Then there was Shao Kahn, the false emperor, the man who had twisted her very creation, who saw her only as a weapon, a tool to be used and discarded. The memory of his callous disregard fueled a fire in Mileena's belly, a burning need to prove her worth, to carve her own destiny separate from those who sought to control her.

Suddenly, a flicker of movement in the distance caught her eye. A lone Tarkatan warrior, his back to her, stood silhouetted against the blood-red horizon. Hope flared – perhaps a stray from Baraka's clan, someone who could offer aid.

"Tarkatan!" Mileena called out, her voice hoarse from the journey.

The figure turned, revealing a familiar face, its flesh marred by recent scars – Skarlet, the banished blood mage, and the object of Baraka's unspoken devotion. A flicker of surprise, quickly masked by a steely resolve, crossed her features.

"Mileena," Skarlet spat, her crimson eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. "You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you," Mileena countered, her grip tightening on Baraka's inert form. "Baraka is injured. We need help."

Skarlet's gaze shifted to the unconscious Baraka, then back to Mileena. A tense silence hung in the air, thick with unspoken emotions and the oppressive heat of the wasteland. After what felt like an eternity, Skarlet spoke, her voice laced with disdain.

"Baraka's weakness is his undoing. He has no place in the new Outworld I envision."

Mileena's lips curled into a snarl. "And what new Outworld is that? One ruled by blood magic and paranoia?"

Skarlet stepped closer, her crimson eyes boring into Mileena's. "An Outworld free from tyranny, from the false emperor and his twisted experiments!" The words hung heavy, a veiled accusation aimed at Mileena's own Tarkatan heritage.

"Then help us reach the oasis," Mileena growled, her voice low and dangerous. "Baraka may be weak, but he fights for his people. A cause you once championed as well."

Skarlet hesitated, her crimson eyes flickering between Mileena and Baraka. Finally, a grudging acceptance settled on her features. "Follow me," she rasped, turning and striding purposefully towards the east.

The journey that followed was a fragile dance. Mileena, forced to rely on her hated rival, remained vigilant. Baraka, unconscious but still a burden on her back, served as a constant reminder of their precarious situation.

Skarlet led them through a labyrinth of treacherous canyons, her knowledge of the Outworld's hidden pathways proving invaluable. As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the desolate landscape, they finally reached their destination.

The oasis, a glistening jewel nestled within the harsh environment, offered a welcome respite. A crystal-clear spring bubbled from the center, its water radiating a cool, life-giving energy.

Skarlet gently helped Mileena lower Baraka onto the soft, sandy ground. Together, they used the water to clean his wounds and apply a poultice of crushed herbs from Skarlet's hidden pouch. The blood mage's touch, though rough, held a surprising gentleness, a hint of the woman beneath the warrior's facade.

As the night deepened, a fragile truce settled amongst the unlikely trio. Mileena, revitalized by the spring water, guarded the perimeter while Skarlet tended to Baraka. The silence was punctuated only by the crackling of a small fire Skarlet had managed to coax to life and Baraka's labored breaths.

In the flickering firelight, Mileena watched Skarlet work, a sense of unease coiling in her stomach. Skarlet's power, the way she manipulated blood with such effortless grace, sent shivers down Mileena's spine. It was a power eerily similar to Shao Kahn's, a power that had birthed Mileena into this world of unending conflict.

Suddenly, Skarlet spoke, her voice quiet but carrying a chilling certainty. "You seek the Soul Chamber, don't you?"

Mileena jerked her head up, a flicker of surprise betraying her. "How do you..." she began, but Skarlet cut her off.

"I know more than you think, Mileena. The secrets of Outworld run deep, and some are best left buried."

Mileena narrowed her eyes. "Do you plan to stop me?"

Skarlet offered a wry smile. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. But know this," she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a low whisper. "The power you seek, it doesn't come without a price. A price you may not be willing to pay."

Mileena met Skarlet's gaze, a steely resolve mirroring the blood mage's intensity. "I've paid my price since the day I was created," she spat. "The true question is, are you willing to stand on the side of freedom, or will you remain a slave to your past?"

The night stretched on, thick with unspoken threats and a growing sense of urgency. The unlikely alliance, forged in the crucible of necessity, hung on a knife's edge. As dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and orange, Mileena knew two things for certain: they wouldn't reach the Soul Chamber alone, and the greatest threat to their mission may not be Sektor or Shao Kahn, but the dark secrets and conflicting desires that resided within their own ranks.

...for more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue, power girl, poison ivy and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support