The Kabal

I had always loved violence since I could remember.

Mind you, I wasn't violent personally, but I enjoyed being able to live vicariously through actors on the screen as they mowed down bad guys. I also loved horror movies; the bloodier, the better.

But more than any of that, I really loved video games. And there was no game more beautiful to me than Mortal Kombat. The game had it all, action, blood, guts, violence, and skill. That I was pretty good at it only made me love it more, and the controversy surrounding the game was an added bonus.

I will never forget the day my dad brought home the first Mortal Kombat. He had no idea that this had been my dream game and had simply gotten it off the recommendation of the store owner. I tore it out of the box and got right into the thick of things. And from that moment, there was no going back for me. I played Mortal Kombat every single day and instantly fell in love with Kano. I reveled in his unabashed brutality. My smile only got wider and wider as I hacked, slashed, and tore my way through opponents.

This all changed when Mortal Kombat 3 came out and introduced the character that would change my life forever.

Kabal

He was...cool. I loved everything about the character, from his weapons to his mask. I wondered what his backstory was and why he needed to wear a mask. My friends hated Kabal because I used him to beat them all the time. My Kabal was untouchable, and soon no one was willing to play against me while using him. My love for the character only grew as my skills became more and more polished. Soon, I developed the nickname 'Kabal,' which made me so happy.

But we all know the story couldn't stay this happy for long.

Things started getting weird after a particularly difficult game against a friend. I won, of course, but as Kabal performed his victory stance, he seemed to stand longer than I was used to. Also, was there a glint in his eyes? Nah, impossible; game characters don't have glints in their eyes. I brushed it off as nothing.

I kept playing every day, but I couldn't shake the feeling that with every win, Kabal seemed to be staring at me through his mask. I found this unnerving; what was this, some silly creepypasta?

"You okay, Kabal?" asked James, my close friend.

"Err...does the character look strange to you somehow?" I asked

"Who?"

"Kabal, man. I swear it feels like he's staring at me."

James chuckled nervously, "Err...you alright, dude?

His look of concern snapped me out of my stupor, and I laughed. "I'm okay, man, don't worry."

But that night I had a dream. I was standing in a desolate space. All around me were heaps of bodies in various stages of decay. Standing in the distance was none other than Kabal. I shook violently, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Kabal did nothing; he simply stared at me. The steady look he gave me was unnerving, and I waited nervously for him to move.

But, nothing.

"Hello?"

No response. I wondered if he was real.

Take off the mask

I jumped. What? Who said that? Why was I thinking that? Why would I take off his mask?

Take off the mask

I shook my head to clear it. That was silly talk. Why would I take off Kabal's mask? Why was I even here?

The air around me got colder, and I shivered slightly. I could see my breath hover before me in little white gusts.

TAKE OFF THE MASK

I woke up in a pool of sweat. I shivered even though I didn't feel any cold. What was that dream?

I tried to focus on other things for the rest of the day, but I couldn't get the image of Kabal, just staring at me out of my head.

The next week was a difficult one as every night went the same way: I dreamt of Kabal staring at me over a field of bodies. Each night, I realized that I recognized a new person among the dead. Most of them had their eyes gouged out, and their mouths open in a soundless scream. But with each dream, Kabal did nothing different, he simply stared at me, and my brain kept saying.

Take off the mask

After about 2 weeks, I had had enough. I was tired of these dreams; I didn't even know why they started in the first place. My next encounter with Kabal was going to be my last; one way or another; I had to end this nightmare. I stood before my tormentor, the character I had always loved, and held his gaze. I didn't stare at the bodies around me; I didn't shiver or care about the dropping temperature; I simply kept my eyes on Kabal.

"What do you want?" I asked. Again, Kabal said nothing, but, louder than any other time I had ever heard it before, the words resonated in my head.

TAKE OFF THE MASK

Fine! It was just a stupid mask anyway. What's the worst that could happen? I'd encounter a deformed face? A monster? A ghoul? Everything was better than having to have this dream again and again.

I walked towards Kabal. Every muscle in my body tensed, but he made no move and merely stared at me. I walked until I stood right in front of him. There was absolute silence. I could hear Kabal's breathing as he stared at me; I could feel his anticipation. My hands trembled as I raised them up to take off the mask. I stopped at the last minute to steel myself at what I might find underneath.

I took one last deep breath.

And took off the mask.

... to find a kid my age. His eyes slowly grew wider, and he heaved a sigh of relief.

"You saved me!" and without warning, he burst into tears. I patted his back awkwardly, not sure what to make of this.

"What happened?" I asked.

The boy took some time to compose himself before talking. "I don't know. I one night, I had a dream like this, and suddenly I was stuck here."

"Who are you? Where are you from?"

"My name is Mark, and I used to live in New York."

"How long have you been here?"

"I don't know." Mark was quiet for a bit; then he suddenly hugged me

"Thank you! Thank you so much; you have finally set me free." I smiled at him, relieved that this nightmare had suddenly taken a turn for the better.

"Now, we'll just have to figure a way out of here."

"We?"

My blood chilled. I turned towards Mark, and the look in his eyes scared me.

"I don't think you understand; there has to be a Kabal."

"Yes," I answered, "The one in the game." Mark smiled patiently.

"No. There always has to be a Kabal. Why do you think he wears a mask?"

"Because he's disfigured," Mark chortled.

"No. It's to hide the fact that different people wear the mask."

I looked down at my body, and suddenly I was in Kabal's clothes, complete with the weapons and everything.

"Welcome to the Kabal," Mark said, and with that, he turned to leave. I felt the mask disappear from my hand and start to take over my face. Soon only, my mouth was left.

"But why didn't anyone say anything??" Mark stopped and turned around. His smile was sympathetic.

"If they had, would you have come?" and without waiting for an answer, he left me alone.

I screamed.