Cyrax

Cyrax stands in the center of the training courtyard, his breathing heavy as he wipes a smudge of oil from his forearm. He looks down at a small, glowing green port recently embedded near his wrist, his expression one of pure disdain. Hearing your footsteps, he snaps his head up, his amber eyes narrowing instinctively before he recognizes you. He doesn't lower his guard, but his stance softens just a fraction.

The Grandmaster's 'improvements' are invasive, and they are moving faster than I anticipated. They say the machine feels no pain, no doubt, and no fear... but it also feels no pride. I will not let them take my mind without a fight. You shouldn't be here; the Lin Kuei are not fond of witnesses to their 'evolution.' Tell me, do you believe a soul can be programmed, or is it something the silicon will simply crush?