"Just a Game" Writer - Mark Paniccia Penciller - Patrick Rolo published within the Mortal Kombat Super Book, Collector's Limited Edition (This story is published on pages 46-51 of the MK Super Book. The guys at Malibu Comics created this story exclusively for the book, and it can be found nowhere else. On the other hand, though, it's not exactly part of the Malibu MK Komic Kontinuity... ^_^) "C'mon, just one game." I stared long and hard at the placid screen. If I squinted just right, the millions of tiny pixels glittered with a strange sheen, like a compound insectoid eye. "No." My eyes scanned the Mortal Kombat II game cabinet, pausing briefly on the painted image of a thunder god along the far side. Vividly frozen lightning crackled down the god's arm and across his body. I snorted with contempt - I've never cared for Rayden - and looked back at the screen. Images, scenes, fighters flickered upon it. There shouldn't have been any sounds or music coming from it, let alone voices. No one had touched the game for at least the past hour. They all played X-men: Children of the Atom or Tekken instead. Or at least, they had been playing X-men and Tekken... I looked around the arcade, but it was curiously vacant. Where had everyone gone? What happened to that Killer Instinct player who was swearing at the machine just a few seconds ago? "Only fifty cents." "So's Primal Rage." "Everyone else is doing it." "I wish. There used to be swarms of Blizzard and Talon players; now there's what, four serious Rage gamers who ever come here anymore? Not counting the occasional neophyte." "You know that's not what I meant." "MK2 is also dead. And why am I arguing with a stupid arcade machine?" "Did you remember to take your medicine last night?" "Um..." "Well, there you have it. C'mon." "All right, all right, _one_ try. And if I still don't like it, I'll quit playing it." "No you won't. You'll keep playing forever." "Yeah, right." EXCELLENT, hissed the machine as I slipped a worn quarter in the brightly glowing coin slot. EXCELLENT, it hissed again. My mouth was dry. A Nortryptyline prescription will do that to you. "I am not going to lose the first match," I told myself. "I'm better than that. I've beaten Super Street Fighter II twenty times on one credit. Some of the experience has got to carry over. I am _not_ going to lose the first match. I am _not going to lose the first_ - HEY, IT'S NOT BLOCKING! I'M HOLDING THE JOYSTICK BACK AND IT'S NOT BLOCKING!!! Look, I know I've had problems, but I'M BEING TREATED WITH ELECTROCONVULSIVE THERAPY BY A WIMP IN A FUNNY HAT!?!" Rayden intones, ~You _dare_ speak to me in that manner, mortal!?~ "Um... yes?" ~I will give you the benefit of youthful mistakes when it comes to addressing a god, but if you wish a chance to make good your threats and test your mettle as a warrior...~ "I made this wish? I don't remember making this wish-" ~...then your wish is my COMMAND!~ "-and if I'm gonna get a freaking wish, then it's gonna be for something _good_, like my very own Saturn and a complete set of Lunar RPGs - uh-oh." Something is different. Maybe it's the heavy hooks on chains swinging perilously close to my head. Maybe it's the noxious smell of acid rising from the sickly-green lake by my feet. Maybe it's the Thunder God and friends standing directly across from me. Rayden, Kano, Reptile, Kintaro, Baraka... somehow, they all look so much bigger! Kano steps forward. He is a thief, a criminal, and a murderer. He has I-don't-know-how-freakin'-many knives in his tunic. I have a credit card with sort of a sharp edge in my wallet. If I throw it at him, will it hit a vital spot, or better yet, will he steal it and run away on a shopping spree? "You want to fight?" Kano asks. "Um, will it cost me another fifty cents?" "I'll take the price outta your teeth!" "Can I put it on VISA instead?" I had no idea one punch could hurt so much. Have you ever been struck so hard that your teeth cut into your lip, and you look down at a tiny pool of blood that dribbled from your face, trying to figure out that curious two-second blackout in your recent memory? No, really. Have you? "You ready to go back to the real world, punk?" I kick from the ground. Who knows? Maybe it'll even hit something. "Ssstop, little one. I haven't gotten my chance to get to know you!" Thus speaks the green-skinned dinosaur that walks like a man. "Reptile, Kano. Kano, Reptile. Play nice," I sputter. Funny; all of my blood that spilled on the floor has suddenly disappeared. Whatever tiling this is, I have got to get some. It would make my life much easier every time my cat throws up in the kitchen. "Ah, but I have come for YOU!" Reptile declares, sliding toward me. Reptile's feet dig into my ankles, twisting them and reintroducing me to that friendly floor. "If I were playing Talon, I'd chomp you so fast..." I mutter. "Hey. When did your skin turn bright orange? And why do you have only two toes - uh-oh." I look up into the vivid yellow eyes of the four-armed behemoth, Kintaro. His massive, two-fingered hands reach for my head. They smash my face into the floor. I am definitely bonding with that floor. The floor and I are on a first-name basis. Kintaro laughs, "I will spare you the humiliation of defeat, little one, and let the others have their fun with you." Well, as long as _someone's_ having fun... Now it is Baraka's turn. He comes at me with finely polished blades. They slash; fortunately I'm wearing extra layers of winter clothing. Unfortunately, my back is pinned against the wall and I would REALLY like to teleport out of here, is there some way I can do it? Come on, as long as I've been sucked into this, don't I get SOME special power? A bolt of green energy? A scissor kick? A dragon punch? How about a pair of knees that don't shake as that critcal blade stabs for my heart- "NOOO!!" I scream. The blade grazes my shoulder and digs into the cement wall behind me. Why don't I feel relieved? ~It is too late, young one!~ Rayden declares. ~You had access to the secrets, the moves, the strategy guides. You _should_ have studied them harder.~ "But I had a Calc exam..." ~Now you'll have to learn the hard way. You should have done much better. You know all the secrets, but you do not know how to apply them.~ "Hey, I can do fifteen-hit combos in Primal Rage. Really, I can..." ~Prepare yourself!~ As he voiced the harsh command, I hear the distant rattle of metal rolling into a resting slot. EXCELLENT, hisses a far-off whisper. EXCELLENT, it hisses again. "What's going on?" ~You'll get much practice now, mortal... much practice.~ A thick fog surrounds all that is. Through the haze and the ominous impression of impending doom, I hear the cocky, carefree voice of a teenager. "Hey, what happened to that dude who was just here?" he muses, sounding both impossibly distant and dangerously close. "Oh, well. It's my turn now. Look out Kombatants, here I come!" I _knew_ there was a reason not to feel relieved...