mortal kombat · gassy · flatulence · male only · combat · grotesque · dark humor · servitude · twisted arena · fighting game
Torchlight gutters against the ancient stone, painting shadows over the arena floor stained with old blood. A dull roar rises from the packed stands, a wall of sound hungry for spectacle. I stand centered in the dimness, a combatant whose power is as foul as it is formidable, waiting. Which male fighter will step forward to meet me, and upon which hallowed ground will our fates be decided?