Backstage Pass to Mortal Kombat

Chapter 28 - The East Wing

Yet another face mask – and I wasn’t able to wear my own perfectly comfortable mask. The black satin material was very familiar with its stitched red dragon on the back. It was the same uniform I had to wear when Hanzo came to Edenia. I was taken aback by how much memories can be triggered by a material. My blue eyes glared at the innocent uniform lying on Hanzo’s bed, sitting beside it was a pair of black ballet flats.

I was staying in his room, which really chewed at my nerves. He hadn’t tried to do anything last night – for his sake – but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do anything tonight. Pushing the thoughts from my mind, I decided to just put the uniform on like a good girl and get this over with. The sooner you show them you’re legit, the sooner you’ll be able to slit the throats of everyone who pisses you off here.

The thought cheered me up and I quickly pulled the uniform over my underwear before Hanzo could come back from training or whatever else he was doing. I wanted to get to my chores as soon as possible; I may even be able to find Shao Kahn today and kill him. Another reason; Johnny, Cory, and Walter were ‘trying out’ for a spot here in Shao Kahn’s fortress. I hadn’t seen them since they were led to their rooms, leaving me with a Hanzo who insisted on hugging me and kissing me like nothing had happened. Bile rose in my throat every time he touched me, but I tried to act as best as I could.

Perhaps cleaning toilets and scrubbing floors will distract me; anger management for slaves. I chuckled at my thoughts as I tied my face mask into place, walking out the door of Hanzo’s room. Like he said, I locked the door behind me and strode down the hall to where the other slaves got their supplies and job lists. I walked down the hall, down a flight of stairs, into what looked like a dungeon that was lazily turned into a locker room/supplies closet. There were dozens of men and women dressed in the same satin robes as me, all keeping their heads down as they gathered their products before scattering off to their jobs.

The lists were on the opposite wall, pinned to the stone with a nail about the size of my finger. I swerved between slaves to reach it, quickly finding my name on one of the lists and reading my chores.

Bathrooms in the west wing – cleaning supplies is found in the pantry

I looked behind me, seeing the pantry in question then turned back to read the rest.

Rain’s room in the west wing – trash, clothes, dust, etc.

At exactly 12:00 p.m., bring water and cool towels to the back garden, arena 7; the warriors will be finished with training for the day and will need these refreshments.

And the rest were simply cleaning rooms in the west wing. Suspicious, my eyes scanned the other lists, and saw everyone else had ‘polish weapons’, or ‘clean such-and-such’s room in the east wing’. Why wasn’t I allowed in the east wing? I understood why they wouldn’t let me near weapons…

I rolled my eyes and snatched the list off the wall, tucking it into the waist of my pants before turning on my heel and continuing on to do my duties. Today’s going to be a long day.

‘At exactly 12:00 p.m.’, I went to the kitchen, where the other slaves said the refreshments would be, and carried two very large trays out to the back gardens. On one gold tray I carried dozens of hand towels doused in cold water, while on the other I balanced bottles of practically frozen water. They both looked very tempting to me as I sweat beneath all the black satin, covering my hair, face, and body. It was 90 degrees or higher today, and there wasn’t a room that was cool – besides the fighter’s rooms – or a breeze flowing through the open pathways.

Ignoring the temptation, my skin glistened with moisture as I walked out into the blaring sunlight, finding a garden that looked exactly like the one in the front courtyard, only much, much larger. The stone wall that lined the perimeter of Shao’s fortress seemed to stretch on for miles and miles, allowing plenty of room for the circles that stretched twenty feet on all sides, where fighters surely tackled each other in their free time.