Defender | Mortal Kombat X Male Reader

3. (Y/N) (L/N)

(A/N: A bit on the shorter side this time as it only serves to introduce yourself as a character. Next chapter training begins.)

James: "Come on (Y/N), remember our deal."

The man was insistent on reminding you of his shady deal from the locker room. Take a dive, earn triple the money. The thought racked your brain. On the one hand, you needed the money. On the other hand, you don't want to compromise your integrity as a fighter. You have a reputation to upkeep.

You jump down into the pit, securing your hand wraps tightly. This was your life. Shady, back alley fight clubs to keep yourself afloat as you travelled from one city to the next, beating down fighters, before repeating the process. A nomadic lifestyle.

The crowd above you could barely hold their excitement as the tension in the air was palpable. The man you were fighting today had a reputation of sheer brutality. That was the thing with these underground fights. Anything goes.

A hulking brute with a shaved head and a menacing grin glared at you from across the cage. You felt the ground tremble slightly as he entered.

FIGHT

The bell rang, and the two fighters circled each other like predators sizing up their prey. The tension in the room was palpable. Suddenly, you lunged forward, throwing a lightning-fast jab that grazed your opponent's cheek. The brute retaliated with a wild haymaker, but you deftly ducked under the swing.

He didn't expect the dodge, so you swing your left fist at his chest before following it up with a right hook to the chin. As he was briefly dazed from the flurry of attacks, you roundhouse kick him, your foot connecting with the side of his bald dome, sending him sprawling across the arena. Your white handwraps are now stained red with his blood.

In an instant his was on his feet and charging you, a fact you didn't expect from his sheer size. Dodging to his left last second, you kick his shin full force, sending him to his knee before following it up with a spinning hook kick. You tried not to blend your brawler style in these matches with martial arts, but this bald brute was pissing you off.

The fight raged on, each fighter trading blows with a mix of skill and raw determination. Your face bore the marks of your opponent's powerful strikes, but you refused to back down, unleashing a series of punishing body shots, causing the brute to stagger back.

As the minutes ticked by, the crowd's roars grew louder, egging on the combatants. You and your opponent were locked in a brutal dance of aggression and defense. Despite the pain and exhaustion, you fought on, knowing that victory meant survival and eating for the next month until your next fight in whatever city.

Ultimately, you found an opening, a split-second vulnerability in your opponent's defense. With a thunderous right hook, you connected squarely with the brute's jaw, sending him crashing to the concrete floor. The referee counted to ten, declaring you the victor to a chorus of cheers and jeers

You slick your short (H/C) hair back, a mixture of blood and sweat caking it as you're declared the winner. You could feel the glares into the back of your skull, but it was a fact you'd have to deal with later. Eyes scanning the crowd, you spot a man observing from the back, his eyes shining a brilliant white. Weird.

After the brutal fight, you made your way through the dimly lit corridors of the underground fight club. Your body ached, and every step felt like a reminder of the intense battle you had just endured.

As a nomad, you had no home, no stable life to return to. Your bag, containing the few belongings you actually owned, was a constant reminder of such a fact. That and the pendant that hung from your neck depicting a crude spider emblem. You'd had it since you could think, the only semblance of a life you couldn't remember.