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V. Mortal Kombat: Deception

PS2

I mash the buttons in desperation. Stringing together a
random combination of X’s, circles, squares, and triangles.
My dad scorns me for doing this. Being cheesy. My fighter
locked in a repetition of low kicks trapping my opponent in an
endless state of falling until death.

I tried to practice more. Improve my skills as a warrior. I
wanted to beat my dad. Honorably.

Although I strived to attain the same prowess Dad showed
with Sub-Zero, I often switched between the characters. Never
perfecting any of them. Rather, I lost focus, more intrigued by
their appearances and backstories. No longer merely fighters
to me. So many imaginative adventures to be had. Femme
fatales. Mutants. Ninjas. Supernatural forces.

Becoming part of their world. I was inspired by their powers.
Their effortless motion. A brutal dance. The blood and gore
did not disturb me. I marveled at the spectacle with childlike
wonder.

So enthralled by this, I attempted to emulate their every
move. Bringing them to life in my living room. My sister and I
kick at one another. Karate chop and tackle each other.

I sigh. Dad continues his merciless assault. There is no other
option. I button-mash with all my might. To no avail.

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