AN: The original excerpt was accidentally deleted a few days ago, a stupid mistake. My sincerest apologies guys, I really tried to remember what I wrote. I am overwhelming with regret right now. Also, no more poems, I effing realized how lame it was after I reread it.

I fail in biology though, lol. If any of my descriptions doesn't look right...just go with it. :)

Mr. Havik: Really sorry If I fail your expectations in this one though :( I was proud with my first excerpt, really I was. Note this story will also go on painfully slow.

Seeing Red II

The white blood cells would attempt to devour every cell they could find in a mindless frenzy, confused to the accumulation of millions and millions of foreign bodies in this strange organism they transfused into. The microorganisms that inhabit this fetus-woman were numerous, bacteria would eat the dead cells, and viruses would multiply - overwhelming the human cells. Most of the non-human cells carry diseases with them, some cells were dying, most of them were mutated, some foreign bodies had even managed to disrupt the nuclei and the chromosome of such fragile cells; Adrenaline would be absorbed in the wrong places - tissues were bearing signs of tumors, the genetic coding of young cells were gravely changed. Lymphocytes and fellow antibodies were in panic.

It was a terrible imbalance.

Her eyes flickered when consciousness was recognized by its developing grey matter.

The second one, then the third, and finally a painful fourth.

But it could only do one sluggish flutter immediately afterwards the movement- she refused to open her eyes again; the minute motion was discomforting for her dermis eyelids. At that instant she noticed other sensations she failed to feel since her conception. All she felt was pain, short lived pains that would fade into the young nerves - but these minute irritations were foible.

This was the twelfth day of her existence, and till now she has never seen the world outside of her glass womb in its eternal essence. Red was the color, the sight, and the void that she could see - even when her eyelids are shut to light. A few hours ago she managed to decipher beyond the colorless walls but she lost her interest - seeing how unclear the world was.

Ever since her planned conception the dungeon beneath Shao Kahn's Coliseum was rid of unkempt prisoners - dead, dying or alive. And the blood collected from these creatures had formed a mixture that would excite alchemists to no bounds. A mixture of life, how would it excite them so! And a mixture as well - that would annoy or intrigue people of science - her mere existence had broken the natural laws these men had incorporated in the physical world.

Shang Tsung would have been proud – should have been – to create such an abomination that could rival the necromancy of Quan Chi.

As amazing it may sound, to maintain its crumbling homeostasis was no easy task. Although her vital organs are forming like those of a fetus, her bone marrows were near completion to supply any loss of blood; and other body systems that spread like blueprints were forming in a slow pace like what Shang Tsung had predicted.

But he did not expect her to suffer episodes of seizures.

She would ram her hands on the wall; her head, her knees, and elbows would punch the glass in such sheer force it would break loose tides of cold red water (Shang Tsung had to fix the glass tube himself). She has lost too much pints of blood already that she lost a leg. To make up for the loss of blood her being would manage by thinning an appendage to the width of her bones to complete her form.

He was confused. This was not supposed to happen. He has witnessed the necromancer Quan Chi's meddling with thousands of corpses for so many times he could recite the processes without even trying to confirm to his memory if they were right.

Surely he had done…nothing wrong. Manipulating corpses should be easier than souls, shouldn't it?

He observed her movement for hours, the rate of his disappointment would increase with each convulsion of her fetus like form, her eyelids had dissolved in the water and now her eyes were in full view, never blinking. The epidermis that was forming successfully had now vanished and revealed her dermis - her insides. She was like a skinned goat prepared for a meal, her bones, cartilage and tendons are dilapidated and her appendages were near breakage with her loose joints.

A seemingly final epileptic tremor followed, the worst of them all, she had lost control over her body. She would mindlessly flail her arms about (she often hit herself), Wriggle her legs into uncomfortable positions then to painful numbing ones. It was an earthquake that overtook her, her ribs were loosened from her skin, parts of he skeletal system were exposed, her left eye was free from the eye socket, her soft bones were mangled, body parts ending up in the wrong place, and her intestines managed to escape from her torso.

She had suffered these seizures without screaming.

Twenty minutes have passed, then she stopped, either exhausted or paralyzed, she floated in such stillness it seems time had stopped with her.

She was like a ragged doll he had seen from voo doo practitioners back in Earth realm. Shreds of flesh would float around her, and hints of cartilage too. It was hard to tell if she were dead. She is such a macabre thing to look at that Shang Tsung looked away from his creation in disgust.


He temporarily restored her true form with arcane magic and left her in exasperation.

Ermac heard of Shang Tsung's problem, in compliance to the instinct implanted in his body he thought of searching for solutions to this...drawback. He knew there was something wrong with the creation's development, he felt it.

Ermac browsed throughout the library, winnowing the books that he needed and placed them all in a large wooden table. It was a mess. Ermac sat one of the nearby stools adjacent to the table and began his research. It was a simple task, all he needed was to look for the keywords 'blood', 'homeostasis', 'hormones', and so forth; any term in relation to the lymph node system or any subject helpful. He picked a random book from the pile and started to read, the crumbling pages smelt of dried grains.

He finished skimming the first book, and stopped himself. He looked at the stack of books again and a sigh was released from his ribcage.

This was pointless.

Five hours had passed by. Some lines of sunlight missed the window Ermac was near to.

Once more, he gazed at the fading words again, in deep thought he had doubted this excursion the instant he took note of how archaic most of these books were. How can he tolerate the onerous flaws he noticed in his research for the past five hours?

Heavens, most of these books were retrospective, old and outdated. The ink that made the words were saturated, and what more of the pictures? The colors were too abstruse to decipher what the picture really looked like. Some of these books were in different languages as well, Ermac doubted any of his translations were correct, seeing that most of them were mixed with other unknown dialects, the fading words did not help either.

The information too, it was a fiasco. These books contradict each other when it comes to information, the laws and theories illustrated here and there weren't making sense.

Some of the information was true, but he didn't believe them.

"No! Stop it please!"

"Shut up!"


Startled, he turned his head towards the source of the noise, three bookshelves to his left, near the third niche... He listened.

It was a girl and a boy. The girl was screaming hard, the voices were piercing, bouncing back in echoes along the cylindrical walls- but the library was so large it failed to disturb its placid ambiance. Ermac heard signs of beatings inflicted on the woman, the sound of blood trickling on the tarmac floor. But all he heard from the man were groans and deranged laughter.

In hesitation, and with the curse of curiosity forming, Ermac began to look for them.

AN: Cliffhanger? Hmmm don't feel it hehe. I'm still working on the part after this though :)