This is a short story revolved around the infamous gunslinger from Mortal Kombat X.
This story is MATURE and will contain: violence, strong language, "triggering" scenarios, & SMUT. If you are not into that kind of content this is not for you... but...
With the new release of Mortal Kombat 11, I've been inspired to write again a little. Hope you enjoy; leave feedback if you do!
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Erron continued to stare off in the direction the girl had disappeared, even after she was long gone from his sight. What was it about her that was so endearing to him? Normally he would blame it on the booze, but he knew he hadn't drank nearly enough for the alcohol to affect him. He was also aware of the looks and hushed talk directed his way.
"Heh, heh, heh... fa'ncy that wan do you? She 'ees a lov'ly veexin, no?" An outworld humanoid creature seated next to him chuckled at Erron's transfixion. "Eh'ven for an Earthrealm girl. And I deh'spize Earthrealm whores."
So she was an Earthrealm girl after all. What was she doing in Outworld?
His thoughts were interrupted once again by the announcer for the taverns dancers, "Remember, you can request a special private dance from one of our gifted ladies! They are guaranteed to bewitch you. You will not be able to resist coming back for more!" He boomed, the rest of his announcement went on non-caring ears. That was all Erron cared to hear.
Other women from the tavern began closing in on the men nearby, in search for their next customer. Erron watched as some wrapped their selves around the women, or took their hands to be whisked away. An obvious thought crossed his mind, and he pushed himself up to stand, adjusted his hat with a quick tap on the brim, and walked over to the announcer seated at a podium overlooking the dancers area.
The announcer was mid-sentence when Erron came to a stop by him, and he glanced down to him. He recognized him as the Kahn's personal guard. "Yes, Mr. Black?" He asked warily. It was obvious he knew enough to fear him.
"I want one of those private dances you was talkin' about." He answered, loosely gripping his holster in the front.
The announcer seemed relieved, knowing now what the mercenary wanted. "Heh, heh," he chuckled, still nervously, "Of course, Mr. Black. Any specific vixen you have in mind?"
"The one you call 'Raven'."
The announcer smirked knowingly before raising a hand in the air to snap his fingers, flicking two fingers back and forth, motioning for a tavern guard to come over.
"Yes, sir?" The guard looked to the announcer.
"Fetch Raven for me, will you?" The announcer ordered. "She has a customer."
"Right away." The guard complied and turned to walk off.
Erron glanced around the room in anticipation. After what felt like minutes, he began tapping one of his fingers on the grip of one of his pistols. He was impatient, but knew some things were worth the wait.
Finally the guard returned, to Erron's disappointment the girl was not with him. If it weren't for the fact he was wearing a mask, his frown would've been very obvious.
