MORTAL KOMBAT

Human and Machine

As the silence envelopes the screams of the earlier moments, blood drips down the sharp steel of the dual blades. Pierced within the ground are the remnant signature weapons of a killer gone loose. As the collecting pool of blood soaks into the dry ground, lays the body of a female who died fighting on her last breath. The name of such woman is inscribed within the metal plate of the United States Special Forces dog tags.

"Sonya...?" The figure who approaches is dark skinned and built like a tank. Walking with a precision tempered through intense training towards his partner, all the years he has served are lost in that moment of discovery. Running with all his strength he can muster to get to her as soon as possible. Like the few seconds earned would make a difference in saving her life, he drops to his knees before he had a chance to slow his momentum. The skin-ripped knees of skidding up to her body would not compare to the pain he would soon face.

The contortion of Jax's face contrasts with his stern features. Tears form and drop to the already saturated dirt as if mixing an alchemist potion. The lifeless blood, the sorrow tears, the impacted dirt; creates a creature that sticks to everything it comes into contact with. Clothes could be cleaned to rid of it, yet the soul is a different companion.

With a guttural scream: "no-OO-OO!!!" Lips curled and rigid as his mouth is outstretched open. Eyes affixed into empty space, looking at nothing and no one but only of one thing: Hatred. Pure, unadulterated, preditory hatred. Instinct takes over logic. The mind succumbs; shattering into thousands of pieces. Every *ting* and *ping* mirrors a fractured memory.

Being pulled down as if by a higher gravity, Jax's hands brace his body over Sonya's. The heaves of his chest reminiscent of a CPR technique; breathing in quick and shallow bursts. Fingers dig deep in the moist ground, gripping a death hold of the gooey mixture. "Kano..." Said over clenched teeth, almost as if said to a lover where no one else would hear. Suddenly snapping up, beads of sweat flies off of his brow, screaming out the air within his lungs..."I'LL KILL YOU!!!" The rough intake of a new and fresh breath scraping against his lungs as it rushes in. "...I swear I will..." Looking down at his blood?n?mud-covered hands, the sight of Sonya blurs, then goes into crystal clarity then back again.

Struggling to rise to his feet with the weight of everything that has transpired moments before, Jax staggers up long enough to say under his breath..."I've failed you"...falling to his knees once again. Placing his hands against his face to hide the emotion he feels, the sound of his voice escapes the prison his hands form..."...I wasn't strong enough..." Pulling his hands apart from the skin of his face leaves an imprint of blood like what Kano did to the life he once knew. Shocked and horrified at what he sees in front of him puts his subconscious into overdrive. Clasping his hands around the others' forearm turns his dark skin white around the indentation of his grip. Jax's voice cracks when the last coherent words are spoken..."...have to be..."

*po!-pop!*: Dislocation of both shoulders. *snap!*: Ligaments pulled off of bone. *ri~i~ip!*: Skin peeled off flesh. *splash!-drip!-drip!*: Blood free of its' confines. "aaAAGH!!!!!": Jax's pain beyond any other before he drops unconscious.

* * * * * * * *

*chu!-chu!-chu!-chu!-chu!-chu!* The overwhelming sound pounds the flesh and the inaniment of the surrounding areas. Bouncing off and reverberating back tenfold to anyone who is in an earshot away yet there is still a soft, reciprocating echo that occurs. Until it slows its' rythum down and keeps falling, losing its' stride where it turns silent and motionless.

The *clud* touchdown of the Evac-Copter signifies the possible salvation of a life saved. The uniformed men and women who stepped out are like gears in motion. No movement is wasted, all know their place and what to do. The professional mind handles the sight that beholds them. Nothing shocks them from what they already have witnessed in the months of practice and hardened years.

From what is told of their actions is a lost cause to the help of Sonya but a body bag. Now the real work is ahead of them as they immediately approach the sprawled out body of Jax. The step-by-step chatter from the paramedics counts down on the goings on to save Jax. As with second-nature in doing things, the mind wanders far from what is happening in the now. The aftermath of which causes some to run scenarios as to what happened.

Every second counts as help continues to revive Jax. Securing him on the lift-board, they struggle to race toward the Evac-Coptor. Having placed the bloodless arms in a cryo-stasis container in hopes of reattachment, the call is placed to the Special Forces branch of the medical center that they are en rout to their location ETA 34 minutes. Another call is placed, yet only to a very select few. Ones that are part of the R&D division for weapons of offensive and defensive capabilities.

* * * * * * * *

The sterile operating table houses the most state-of-the-art superior technology money has to buy or in some cases...'acquire'. Bright lights glare off of chrome parts whereas the matted texture absorbs the rest. Seen strapped down in a harness to the pivot-rotating table is Jax, prepped and ready to begin 'enhancement'. The brightest of all the lights come from not of the ceiling but from the middle of the room; a retractable, cone-shaped operating light above Jax shining down. Even the heat caused by it can be felt from his unconscious mind.

Encircling this large room above the floor is a platform ring enclosed in reflective one-way mirrors. The darkened glass is a black hole for this entire room. Hiding from within are the persons responsible, with a watchful eye they stand banking on the turnout from this venture. Flanked on both sides of the table are machineries of sophistication. The fast paced yet smooth moving of the factory-style arms set in place pieces of hardware components that the augmentation requires. Like a surgical procedure, each one of the fingerlets that branches off of the main arm handles the circuit-boards and nano-manipulations.

With nothing but the cold machines overseeing the process, watched by the unblinking surveillance, Jax is left alone as the only organic in this metal tomb. The whining sounds of mechanic energy spent thunders on in the minds? ear of Jax. The assembly of the metal arms are complete, now for the attachment process to commence. The silver sleekness outer shell and the contour ridges running crosscut down the shoulder-blades to the tips of the fingers reiterates achievement. The assembly arms themselves behave like a soothing mother to her newborn, gently handling Jax while it fuses flesh with metal. All goes well as planned, for Jax is now the quintessential World's Strongest Man.