F A T A L I T Y

Headcanon | Flashing the Cash

Kano is a rich man - there’s no doubt in anyone’s (I’d assume) mind about this. He’s a thief, a swindler, essentially a trafficker in all things from weapons to people & he’s hired hands. Doing deals with everybody from his fellow man to those of Outworld, Kano’s made a pretty penny for himself and rolls with the high-rollers when it comes to his pot of money. 

However, he does not show it off. Although his cybernetics are the most expensive (and advanced) a man can get and he’ll by all means crash the most wealthy parties, he generally sticks to hit roots when it comes to how he looks. Aside from his eye and chest-piece, you’d not look at Kano and assume he’s rich. This isn’t simply because his light-weight clothing / armour helps him in battle, but also because he’s happy and content remaining the man he’s always been. He’s always been kind of rough and ready, raised in the outback (or whatever the fuck) by adoptive parents who were humble in their ways. 

Kano can throw about his cash on booze, strippers, clubs and drugs (though hardly the last one), but ultimately, he’s not one to show off the material things. He’s more likely to show off his body, his abs, his attitude and his mind. 

SENTENCE STARTERS PT. 3 | Meme

"Yea' - what a cryin' fuckin' shame" he repeats after her; a cocked brow and a loose smirk. There's a deviousness in his eye that screams sarcasm somewhat louder than the lazy drawl of his voice.

Still - it'd only been a matter of time before that toothy woman went spilling her marbles rather than blood. Honestly, he'd been banking on madness catching up with her a lot sooner than now.

Regardless; standing at the side-lines of a battle - eyes on a bloodbath and Cassie at his side, he can't help but chuckle. What's a little madness anyway? Maybe they ought to get Mileena on side!

 ’ unfortunately ’ , she wants to add but keeps her silence because it feels like speaking will crack her head open . her pulse beats slower , but it’s not enough to keep her rage at bay , beaten and half awake but still somehow dangerous as a hand harshly tugs on the chains again . it dawns on her after a few moments that he SAVED her , just like that , just like the sick bastard he was that liked going back and forth and had no idea how to handle love ; sonya blade would set the world on fire for him in the past .

   ( ’ a few assholes had started shit with him , a punch on his face was enough to make her go feral . by the time she was done with them she had blood on her knuckles and a bleeding nose ; for some reason he kissed her . hard , bloody , needy . . .  ❛ no one hurts you but me , kano . ❜ ’ )

 ❛ fuckin’- ❜  she starts , closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath . veins pop out of her knuckles as she grips the sheets tighter and glares at him . but this glare was cut short when he mentioned a lock of her hair . it makes her pause , and blink a few times . her mind catches up with the fact that he had kept her hair with him , and it awakens a bigger wave of rage inside her . teeth bare as she hisses out ;  ❛ what are you talking about ? ❜  he can’t , he SHOULDN’T .

 it doesn’t matter , sonya thinks and dismisses his answer with a hand before asking again . her body tries to sit up , the pain that shot her abdomen makes her breathe out a small grunt and fall back onto the pillows . her chest rapidly rose and fell with her pants . licking her lips , she tries again .  ❛ where am i ? ❜

For a man so uncaring, when he sees her struggle his response is to hold a splayed palm out toward her, to wrestle with the reassurance that settles in the back of his throat. His tongue flicks a quiet ‘easy now’, a response kinder than possibly anything she’d imagine or anything she’d remember. 

Kano’s ‘kindness’ never comes without a catch; he imagines his tone is gasoline on an open flame. 

“Does it matter?” She’d not find out or know; maybe if she escaped she’d be aware of where she was being held but shit, that’d mean looking back and as far as Kano can see - Sonya’s not looked back in a long time...

but surely she still thought of them. Nights shared in an embrace, lazy mornings, shower sex, the terrible breakfasts and the talk of work that Kano could never be bothered to listen to. Surely there was more in her memory than the horrid reminder of a planned betrayal. A brown eye would look her over, an expression on his face that speaks - that says ‘you still love me.’

          :･ﾟ ❤️┇The attack came like a tsunami: the Black Dragon pushed through the Special Forces, destroyed and ransacked the base; tossing Sonya and Johnny aside and taking a struggling Cassie into the ship. She’d put up a fight outside and inside, one Kabal had put to an end rather quickly, but not before Cassie shot a pointed, fiery glare at Kano’s younger counterpart no matter how distraught he seemed when no one was looking. Sonuva bitch you betrayed me, it said — pushed her feet against the wall and slammed Kabal into the opposite one: almost released her on impact — and then the hilt of Kabal‘s weapon came down the back of her head; hard THUD! And she collapsed, unconscious, heartbroken.

            When she awakens, her heart throbs where the weapon struck her. Pulsing. Dirt in her mouth. In her nostrils. In her lungs. She coughs, hands curling into fists, scratching at cement. Her bones beat to the drums of the music blaring — loud and invasive into her ears, threatening to burst her eardrums. Heavy lips peel from her eyes — she’s aching everywhere and in places she didn’t know she possessed. ❝Uuuhhhhh…..❞

            A cheer — a crowd? Cassandra staggers upward — could have passed for drunk if she’d drank anything at all. What are they… cheerin’ ‘bout… It strikes her then, as her eyes focus, that the crowd is outside the cage she’s into. Are they… cheerin’ for me?

            Still struggling to stay on her feet, the commander sways her steps, holding the back of head, fingers threading into her hair and finding the heated, elevated part of the bump left behind by Kabal. ❝Where am I….?❞ Croaked. Clears her throat, her hand massaging the crisped area.

            It’s the beer bottle breaking apart at her feet, thrown from over the chain linked fence that helps her focus — dawns on her where she is then, and her heart leaps into her chest, fingers tingling with renewed adrenaline. Cassie gazes upward: through the smoky mist, two shapes define themselves until the grand revelation: a younger and older Kano staring down at her from a platform above. Black Dragon’s hideout. Or one of them anyhow. Instinct tells her to reach for her trustee pistols, only to realize the weight of them is missing on her.

            ❝Cute setup❞, she calls as her voice returns, false bravado drawled from her tone as she offers an angry smile: ❝don’t think that’ll stop me from kicking your ass once I get up there though.❞

He’d argued and fuck, he’d even begged. Desperation sinking through the cracks in his voice when he’d turned to his older self and asked ‘why?’ It had been hard at first to fake - to muster up the puff of his chest and suck on a breath, to eye his older self with a look of ‘agreement’. But his other version knew ( of course he fucking knew ) what had been going on and such is the reason why she stands inside of the cage and he stands out of it. 

Why get himself back like this? Why go through the torture? Had he not lived up to the ideal of the man he would one day become. The thought is a nightmare. An alternate timeline in which Kano’s soul degrades and degrades until he’s nought more than an empty monster. He may be arrogant now, might have a chip on his shoulder and an attitude to boot but he’s at least still got a heart. A heart that right now races in his chest, that smashes against his insides because fuck knows it’s pounding for her. 

Kano takes to the edge of the cage, height well above the fray she’d find herself stuck in - his older self a shadow that lingers behind him ( that smirks and sneers when he watches the expression of his younger self twist with her coming awake ). 

“She’s gonna do well in there, mate-” his older self coos, a flick of the younger ones eyes and a cock of his brow. “Really tough that one.” The smile comes behind a hand that lands straight atop the younger Kano’s shoulder, a hand that goes from fingers squeezing his shoulder to a hand splayed against his chest. “Only one man capable of beatin’ a bitch like that-”

why does his heart continue to smash against the inside of chest? Why do the fingers atop his skin encourage such anxiety. Scared in the face of himself? Scared or suspicious? On edge because he knows just what he’s capable of...

and then comes the force, a shove that has the younger man stepping back and off of the edge - ass first onto the ground below, the cage welcoming him into an embrace as hot as fire. 

“Th’-the fuck?!” He’s quick to stand, quick to see his older self smirking and shrugging - a silent ‘sorry, mate’ because for him this is nought more an entertainment. 

A slow turn and he’s facing Cassie, eye wide and lips agape - with the cheers of the crowd roaring around them, there’s one thing here aside from alcohol that the crowd are thirsty for. Blood. 

          ☆。.:*: 🍒┇ There’s a renewed spark in her eyes — a loneliness dropped in lieu of rising excitement. Sombre expression is replaced with a slow growing smile as she eyes her glass getting filled up once more. No one to judge that liquor tongue, to look down on her when she has one too many. It is a vice, she knows, but one that has been so difficult to shake off after so long.

           As he urges her, Rebecca follows suit, downing yet another drink of hard liquor. Not even a grimace — instead: relief. That relief of letting go. Even for a few hours; forget the world and forget all the wrongs done to her or that she’s done. She nods, quick and decided. ❝Alright — Thank you.❞ She blinks at her empty glass, hands clasped around it, cool against her palm. ❝Y’know I… I wasn’t really crying over him… I was sad because I didn’t feel like I could fit in at all. That was what hurt. The rejection… Mm-my customs are different. Edenia… Outworld… Nuh-now Earthrealm — it’s so… very different….❞

           That slow smile widens – her excitement now palpable. ❝But — that doesn’t really matter here… So — Where do we start? I mm-mean, other than here. M’nn-not entirely familiar with all your drinks. Why don’t you guide mm-me?❞

Kano polishes off the last of his booze, a bittersweet dew that leaves him licking his lips ( and eager for more ). He isn’t nearly drunk enough for the night to be memorable ( or rather, easily forgettable ) just yet. His smile sticks to his lips like the taste of his drink - bloody lovely. 

“Not surprised-” whether she meant it or no, he’d respond with the reassurance of a man’s coyness “no bloke is worth cryin’ over.” As if he hadn’t sobbed over a broad or two in his time. Those drunken nights alone in his flat, a young man mourning the way he himself had fucked over an ex-lover ( and yet not a shred of admittance or relent anywhere to be seen ). 

“Way I see it, if y’don’t fit in then y’stand out.” He’s rising from his seat now, pushing the seat off of him as if it’s a bad smell - reaching a hand out toward her own because tonight he’ll guide her down a trail of absolute fun ( and self-destruction ). “Nothin’ worse than bein’ like every other drip in th’world” or any world for that matter “an’ there’s nothin’ wrong with bein’ an outcast.”

He approaches a man, big bloke, seems to enjoy Thunderdome a little too much, though who's Max to judge getting beat around the head for some entertainment. "Oi," he says to the man, the word closer to a mumble than an actual word. "Lookin' for a man, stole my horse. Anyone new in town? 'Sides me, of course."

Kano's drank enough to have him warm to the touch - his cheeks red and his smile wide. What else is there to do in a world like this one aside from drink, fight and fuck? When it had ended for everybody else - it'd just began for Kano. He'd fucking thrive in this lawless land, a man at home with debauchery and violence.

He takes a hard swig of his booze, a voice from behind calling for his attention and Kano ( being a kind man ) turns with a smirk to hear the poor bloke out.

"Stole? Nah mate" a lazy elbow holds him up against the bar "finders, keepers. Yer not been livin' in the same world as the rest of us?"

His smirk remains - a laugh partnered with a tilt of his glass, only silenced when he finishes off the last of it.

This poor bugger - new in town and without a motor - bloody tragic.

𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 (a  series  of  nonverbal  prompts .   mature  themes  present ,   ‘ my ’  muse  belongs  to  the  one who  posted  the  meme  -  send   “ + REVERSE ”   to  reverse  the  prompts .)

❛  STAB .   stab  my  muse with a  [ knife / other object ].

"Th'bloody hell was that for?!"

Kano's eye is drawn to his leg, a muscular thigh now oozing with blood - a knife protruding from skin, deep enough to hurt like a motherfucker but thankfully not enough to touch the bone.

Two hands grasping the blade, he pulls free the knife with a pained squint and tense refrain. Kano's taken his hits over the years, been stabbed more times than he'd like to admit but Christ, that'll stay sore a good few days!

SHE   CURLS   HER   SLEEVES   AROUND   HER   FIST,   furiously   wiping   away   the   tears   the   begin   to   fall.   she   takes   the   bottle   easily,   loosely   holding   it   in   her   free   hand.   she   sits   with   his   words   for   a   moment,   letting   them   sink   into   her.   she   decides   that   he’s   right.   serena   doesn’t   see   kano   for   what   he   is,   a   snake   in   the   grass.   perhaps   a   part   of   her   does,   but   the   embers   are   smothered   quickly.

the   young   woman   takes   a   few   deep   breaths   in   an   attempt   to   steady   herself.   “she   doesn’t   give   a   shit,   so   why   do   you?”   what   might   appear   as   a   moment   of   clarity   is   only   insecurity.   if   her   own   parents   didn’t   care   or   take   interest,   why   would   a   crook   do   so?   she   wasn’t   interested   in   being   used   again.

she   wants   to   trust   him,   to   trust   someone   wholeheartedly.   she   sets   the   bottle   down   beside   her,   and   instead   reaches   for   his   hand   hesitantly.

“Hey - I’m a lot nicer than me reputation would have yer know.” A lie. A brazen lie told through smiling lips and squinted eyes, a hand shaped into a gun that fires off his bragging like well-aimed bullets. 

With her parents so far on the other side of the fence, pulling her down from it would surely be met with little resistance. Already there’s a burning for Sonya that Kano can’t help but bask in the warmth of. Any weakness ought to be exploited ( any ally grasped ). 

“Not t’mention, th’enemy of my enemy is my friend.” 

Enemy, child - in an environment like today’s, they’re practically the same thing.

“Unlike y’dear ol’ mum, I actually look out f’people I consider family.” 

          :･ﾟ ⚡┇Indeed, Raiden is far from stupid. He knows he is gambling with perhaps much more than he can chew — yet the threat to Earthrealm is enough to push him into a near impossible quest: seeking that one glimmer of good still left within the mercenary. There is no better candidate than the man who believes himself fully and wholly evil. The others — Kabal, Erron Black — they all know they can do good if necessary — Kano never channels that goodness. Mortals, humans, they are so much more than they seem, quite complex: Kano’s balance is tipped heavily to one side, but the scale has yet to touch the table. There is still hope, infinitely small as there is.

            ❝Yes❞, Raiden responds, simply. Yes, we must work together.

            The weapon materializes between his hands: a hefty, beautifully carved blade shimmering where light caresses its edges. The handle is as intricate as the markings on the curved blade — coppers and golds. There’s no use playing around the bush — best be truthful: ❝Long ago there was another tyrant who ruled Outworld — he was powerful, moreso than Shao Kahn, and his subjects were also quite powerful. One such was Yaon, his right hand. He committed atrocities even the likes of you could not imagine or comprehend. However, I sensed there was a spark of hope and honor within him. He could do good, if only he wanted to. I risked everything as I awarded him my trust. He was to capture the Ebbonrule from the Emperor and return it to me. This blade, here, is the Ebbonrule.❞ He rises the blade a slight for show. ❝He battled the Emperor valiantly and managed to disarm him in order to wield it. The Emperor was very strong, but he did not know how to activate the blade. When Yaon took to the blade, his views had changed, his honor had won above the evil he had committed — the blade activated its power then, for only can that happen when an evil man has turned his back on calamity.❞

           He is quiet a moment, observing the sheen of the blade. ❝Shao Kahn is planning another attack on Earthrealm. He is hellbent on conquering it. That cannot happen.❞

           Raiden’s luminescent eyes find Kano’s, serious. ❝This is where you come in, Kano. This is why I need you to wield the Ebbonrule.❞

A brow is furrowed, a squint of hazel squeezed - one eye that screams the simple question ‘why me?’ Sure the god had explained the facts but why Kano and nobody else? Kabal had a tendency for switching sides, hell even Erron would work ‘good’ for the right price but him? Kano? 

Does Raiden really expect him to be something he’s not - does the thunder god’s faith expand so far that he’s willing to put money on Kano’s heart beating for anybody but himself? 

There’s something silently touching about the proposition - a reminder Kano has of his mother ( a woman long gone but a woman he’d loved )…a woman who’d never lost faith in her son. Who’d trained the little ankle biter to be something more than a common tearaway, who’d taken him in, trained him and loved him and despite everything...had never given up on him. 

Head lowers, teeth chewing on his bottom lip, a moment’s thought interrupted but the same poison that has kept him intoxicated for so long before now. 

“Piss off, what makes y’think I’d wanna help you?” Because Raiden surely doesn’t mean a word he says. Trusting Kano? Believing in him? After everything...why the fuck would he? The Aussie’s expression is serious, a dark eye and thin lips - no joke to be found in Raiden’s suggestion. “I got more investments out there than I do in Earthrealm-” 

Erron likens the adjustment to the eye to acquiring a new six-shooter—perhaps a nicer one, better-made, even, but the differences are stark and obvious in the hands of someone who treats such a thing like a limb. An eye must be far worse, he imagines, but the principle is the same. There will be a period of adjustment in in that time, some of Kano’s less loyal (read as: foolish, if they think they can actually swing it) thugs might acquire some notions they ought not.

Shrugging and not taking offense, Erron slips the smoke back between his lips and once more regards his boss. He knows Kano doesn’t smoke, but the gesture is one of solidarity, a strange, taciturn understanding between men—sort of an old cowpoke code by which the mercenary still lives and probably will ‘til something shuffles him off this mortal coil.

“Whiskey,” grunts the gunslinger without pause, not letting on that he is pleased by this lift of Kano’s spirits. It might not last, but if they can be seen in public by anyone at all who might pass the word, if they can be seen going about their business as if the man has not suffered and is recovering slowly from a major trauma, it might steady the bulwark of Kano’s authority—save them from later trouble.

There are many eyes on the pair. They are well-known. Good, Erron Black thinks with shrewd calculation. Keep lookin’; watch how the Black Dragon drinks.

“Yea, shoulda known-”

whiskey’s a given because what else would an old timey cowboy be drinking? It wouldn’t be the piss-tasting beer that Kano’s a stereotype to order ( not that Erron could stand the cheap shit that this bar is so quick to sell them ). Can’t blame a business for making a buck. 

With drinks in hand and two seats at the bar stolen, Kano’s offering a ‘cheers’ to his mate while he attempts to find satisfaction in the pit of a booze he could only describe as ‘good enough to get him eventually hammered’. It’ll do. 

“Didn’t expect -” a shake of his head and another swig, an action that stops him talking the moment he’s started. It doesn’t feel right to share a feeling and a thought - doesn’t feel like two blokes simply drinking. “Didn’t expect Jax t’punch so fuckin’ hard.” 

Should have expected it. But didn’t. Hey, everybody makes mistakes. Too bad for Kano it had cost him an eye ( and a whole lot of his dignity ). 

THIS WAS NOTHING TO HER. It was nothing to her to gift him this useful alley. Who better to work alongside than yourself. Who better to fight at your side than yourself. Who better to trust and know that they will not betray you - than yourself. He has always served her. He had always obeyed, he has always fulfilled his duty and he was rewarded, but this time - it was different.

She could feel it - something was amiss. A feeling she had never felt before. Time was not as it should be. This universe was dying, there was no stopping what she has set into motion, but there was no denying the feeling that plagued her. That the impossible - could be possible. That she had somehow failed. That she had been defeated and the hourglass had been taken from her, there was no mistaken the feeling that washed over - the flow of time had been corrupted, as if it had been placed into a child’s hands and they knew naught what to do.

“Silence with your jests -” She stood before the hourglass her hands raised as she searched within the sands of time. For her to have been defeated in the future, for the hourglass to be taken from her, it meant that there was something within this timeline - that was not meant to be. Everything had been accounted for, all possible outcomes had been seen, except for one - her death.

“I can take them from different realities - I can gift you what your heart seeks, your own harem of that woman.” A disgusting, repulsive man. Such a small creature who thought with what rested between his legs and nothing more. Lust - was something that could be used, manipulated. He wanted that woman for himself, then so be it. He wanted more than one - then it would be done, as long as he fulfilled his promise as she stopped, her eyes widening only for a moment as she stared at what was before her, three beings that should not be within this reality, three men that she had removed from this timeline and at the center of them was there leader - Shang Tsung.

“Johnny Cage and his daughter - will earn your prize. Shang Tsung on the other hand - bring me his head, and you will have all that your heart wishes and so much more.”

Both Kano’s welcome a telling off with chewed bottom lips and an exchange of a glance - the younger of the two looks quick to comment back, the older holding his thoughts on the edge of his tongue. Arms fold across his torso, gloved fingers creasing into the heat of his skin - an eye dropping to the floor when a thought weighs heavy on the mind. 

He’s never been a man unsure until now, his younger self on the other hand so proud, so keen to get precisely what he wants. Looking at him, Kano can remember a time when his hothead had gotten him burnt. He’d not make the same mistakes over and over ( not like him or her or anybody else in this damned time loop ).

“Multiple Sonyas?” The younger man laughs “sounds like a bloody nightmare-” because how else had his younger self felt about her? Once love turned to a bitter hatred, only as he’d gotten older had he pined and pined and pined for her until fuck, he’d split at the seams attempting to keep her all to himself. 

“Rack off. More valuable than money” his older self responds, a cocked brow and a nod of his head because how else would he convince himself? Money’s the ticket. “Kronika, y’give me enough o’ya cyber soldiers an’ I’ll get ‘em all for yer.”

His younger self would tag along, that much he can be sure of ( that much he knows ). 

“Shang Tsung, guaranteed.” 

The mercenary’s proximity had the terrible side effect of giving the madame frequent shivers down her spine – and while she was able to either stifle or hide them well, this time there was something different – a confident undertone, maybe? Kano was hardly a humble one, but that night he sounded (and looked) even more insufferable.

A king, he had said – he was truly behaving like someone who owed the place, and the arena was a very expensive business. The notion that he could not only be on the invitation list but actually somehow honored was laughable at best, and yet Melissa could tell something was happening – particularly given the fact that he had walked away in the darkness that the arena had been gradually plunged into rather than trying anything with the queen bee.

The unexpected turn of events made Melissa refrain from commenting anything – no last-minute insult or an attempt at having the last words, as usual. As the lights dimmed, she also looked for a seat where she could look at the center of the fighting grounds like everyone else, nursing her drink and wondering what Kano could have meant earlier.

But her thoughts were temporarily suspended as the announcer welcomed all the guests to the venue and excitedly rolled out the news. It came as no surprise to her that the arena was now under new management, or that an exhibit match was to be done in a few seconds – all to prove just how innovative and thrilling the new combat tournaments would be. No more machines from Shinra, apparently – it was to be a true tribute to strength and skill, with the occasional beast brought from the wilder areas of Gaia.

It seemed interesting – although Melissa lacked any fighting abilities herself, there was something… Stimulating about watching it. It was raw, physical, powerful – not unlike sex, in a degree. While she detested gratuitous violence and the abuse of the weak, it was different when it was an organized match between consenting participants, or even when someone punished an evildoer on her behalf.

There was a thrill that was hard to deny and which left Melissa on the edge of her seat, curious to see whoever emerged in the ring downstairs – the man at the microphone was going on forever about the first contestant, numbering all his achievements at the Gold Saucer arena and his legendary status before name-dropping Kano in a spectacularly excited and dramatic way, the sound of his voice almost drowned by the loud cheer, screaming and clapping that suddenly erupted around her.

No – it couldn’t be. Surely that had been her brain playing tricks? She had been so bothered by the man that she was imagining him to be everywhere, teasing her, taunting her…

And yet it was the very same Kano who jumped onto the ring with flair, the red, blinking light offering all the certainty she needed. So that was why he had gone away when the lights went off – he had been waiting to go on stage, he was the honored guest all along.

“Oh, fuck me.”

It all dawned on her then: the Black Dragon leader had a huge fan-club – no wonder so many girls had been staring at him. They weren’t just dazzled by his abs on display or his questionable wit; they were starstruck by seeing their idol so up close. Melissa could call herself a queen all she wanted… But it was now very clear that she was but a common lady among many others at the Black Dragon court that evening.

Walking away from her, it had been hard to hide the grin across his face - the pull of his lips that had left his mouth strained. Knowing what he knows as well as what he says is enough for any man to crease with satisfaction. 

With distance between them and the darkness a shadow that shields him from any onlookers eyes, Kano makes his way toward the stage. Announcements are made, tonight’s top donors and all of those who’d willingly given time to the event. Fighters are announced - a few new and a lot of them old, with Kano’s name one of the final things to be announced. 

His presence encourages a cheer and a roar from the audience, devoted fangirls and their enthusiastic boyfriends. 

What could he say? He’s somewhat of a legend back home. The holder of rewards supposedly nobody else had ever won - a man who Dio himself would recommend as a ‘great fighter’. Could Kano blame him? Violence is as in his blood as it is any he’d splattered - monsters and man alike when it came to a brawl in the ring. 

“Great t’be ‘ere, mate-” they love his accent, the audience eating it up when he overplays it only slightly “excited t’see what the future of this arena holds for th’fighters of Midgar.” They love that one even more, a warmth in his voice that encourages any and all to get up and test their luck in the ring. “Course, anyone can fight so long’s they got the gall for it.”

The announcer stands beside him, hands clapping and lips pulled into a wide grin - he nods along with every word. 

“I can see in this crowd a lotta bloody great fighters-” unfortunate he can’t swear else he’d be called them all a bunch of ‘fucking great fighters’ ( as if they are ). “But, tonight I’m distracted by me girl-”

she’d know what was coming, when the cameras and the lights point toward Mel with Kano leading the charge. 

“Beautiful bird, isn’t she?! Proud t’tell everyone that she’s a staple round here. So yer treat her right” he notions toward the waiters, who’d be quick to refill the madam’s drink. 

“Ha, the least I could do for the help!” Maldron dodges - an impressive feat with the massive shield that he balanced on his arm - driving his lance upwards into the gut of the hollow that had lunged at him. It gurgles, a horrendous sound like air was being driven out of a bag of meat - 

Which, damned as it sounds, was not too far from the disgusting truth. Hollows were little more than emaciated bags of flesh that barely clung to their mobility to try their damnest to steal the humanity that clung to souls such as his own. Yeah, not this time, he’s intending on being around a lot longer than they’d allow him to. Maybe this new friend of his would be of help for that. 

Though that was not to say the assassin was not wary. 

Maldron casts a sideways look at the new arrival. His helmet conceals any and all emotion in his pine green gaze, nudging away the dissolving hollow with the toe of a boot: the silvery - blue sheen of souls slipping into his possession curling around his weapon arm. A pyromancer, huh… not the best to be in this tower of all places. 

“I suppose I owe you thanks for helping me out there.” He speaks up with a light bow of his head.

“Oh!” There’s an audible shriek when spear splits flesh, the only thing aside from the scraping of metal and bone ( and the hollow’s gurgle ), a sharp recoil by Kano. He’s almost comical when his expression twists into disgust before he scoffs at the fallen enemy. Hollows never get any smarter. It doesn’t matter to which reaches of the world you travel, they’re all the bloody same. The worst possible outcome for any man. 

Brushing the dust off of gloved hands, Kano finds himself smirking back at the other - a friendly look in his expression despite some hesitation to linger. After all, you couldn’t always trust people on the road. Some were a blessing, other’s an absolute curse and Gods know Kano had ran into his fair share of tricky bastards along the way ( and sometimes he’d done the deed himself ). 

“No problem, mate” a stretch of his arms and he’s looking out toward the horizon “it’s good I found yer actually...”

and then a confession, a shrug of his shoulders and a shake of his head.

The absence of pain is enough for her to embrace the idea of staying just like she’s been seen lately. Her eyes study his movements constantly, isn’t he aware that the person sitting in front of him is almost an object? There is no heart beating inside her metallic chest, there is blood coursing, and energy, electricity. A synthetic creation of life to imitate it, but be better than the original.

The answer doesn’t surprise her at all, it is expected that after so long, Kano would have ended being used to his cybernetic eye. Not everyone has in their possession an eye that, well, whatever it does in its full potential is some type of information she is not completely aware of. Heard it can shoot a ray of red laser, how amusing that sounds.

“Getting the eye out of the skull once was enough, I understand.” Can only imagine how painful it must feel to have a part of his body removed with so much violence, and the eye no less. Even if Kano suggests a sip of beer for her to take, she rejects the offer by slightly shaking her index finger and then opening her palm, no liquid is necessary anymore, but can’t lie, Frost kind of misses the taste of something cheap and awful to the mouth.

“Once you grow surrounded by pain, more of it becomes part of your schedule.” Can speak for the woman she was before, this body at least hides how wretched the original seemed, with scars scattered across her skin, those weren’t just mere scratches, but cuts and stabs, has lost so much blood that is a miracle she’s still alive. “Even with death, you get so used to it, that you forget you’re a victim of it too, not me, this is the closest I am to a goddess, however others… I feel quite pity for those who don’t embrace evolution.”

Kano watches her response with the dash of his eye, a silent smirk sitting across his lips while fingers toil with thick glass. Does this make them above all the rest? Kano would certainly think so - not only their physical manifestation but their mental strength. He may not have spent much time alongside Frost before now, might have even seen her as an android he’d be unsure of working with but right now there exists some respect between them - a thought shared and somewhat spoken. 

“’Cause they’re scared, mate-” and where’s the lie? That’s the reason Sonya toted her arm cannons but hadn’t yet chopped her hands off and gone of the whole hog ( Kano could do the favour for her ). “They think y’change anythin’ an’ y’stop being a human.” 

As if being a human is anything to proud of. Compared to some of Outworld’s more...interesting...beings, having ‘human’ as your species feels like child’s play. 

“But here we are, sharin’ a stubby” (well, hardly) “and talkin’ like people.” People better than those they challenge, people above all the rest. Christ, put their minds together and him and Frost could be onto something.