Mortal Kombat belongs to Ed Boon. I’m not Ed Boon.

AN: To raise money for the Tekunin, Sektor is hosting a talk show. He will interview any evil character that the reviewers (YOU) request. The first up is Moloch because he was simply made to make fun of. Who’s next is up to you. No one else will be humiliated through bodily humor.

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The evil cyber ninja looked at the audience filled with Shokan, Tarkatan, Oni and other beings from across the realms. Late night talk shows had spread from Earthrealm to Outworld and the Netherrealm, thanks mainly to Johnny Cage’s continuing search for more fans. Now Sektor would use this new phenomenon to gain koins for the Tekunin. Then he could purchase all of Wal-Mart’s secret stash of cybernetic upgrades. You can’t assimilate the Wal-Mart. It has the power of the One Being. It must have money or your soul. Cyborgs don’t have souls, and yen was no longer accepted currency. Nightly Ketchup was Sektor’s answer.

If my show lasts long enough, Sektor processed. Telling ridiculous jokes in the monologue is not easy to accomplish when you want to rid yourself of all human emotion. Fortunately for Sektor, all that was necessary was to make everything about sex and drugs relate to spoiled Edinian princesses, corrupt Elder Gods, and pedophile sorcerers. He had apparently survived the first monologue.

He returned to his desk. The solid blue chair and set design caused his ketchup-colored armor to look bright and hurt the cameraborg’s sensors.

“Our guest today is an Oni guardsman from the Netherrealm, who has served Quan Chi, Shang Tsung, and himself. To tell us what it is like to serve rising evil masters, here is Moloch,” Sektor said without any emotion. The audience howled as the giant blue Oni entered the stage. Moloch dropped his ball on the floor and happily said “Duh-uh…” as he clapped his hands. He picked the ball back up and swung it wildly around, crushing a camera, part of Sektor’s desk, and an audience member. With the audience running in terror, Sektor had to do something.

“Moloch…”

The Oni ignored him and roared.

“Moloch…”

The Oni belched.

“Moloch…”

The Oni squatted and farted.

“Moloch…”

The Oni lowered his trunks and peed on the dead audience member.

“MOLOCH, WHAT THE IS WRONG WITH YOU?! SIT DOWN!” Sektor caught both Moloch’s attention and his own.

“Anger? I expressed emotion…” Sektor said worriedly, feeling his mask.

“No, now I’m expressing anxiety, and I used a contraction!”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Ketchup. I’ll be a good Oni.” Moloch pulled up his trunks. Sektor extended a bottle of Purell with his grappling hook.

“Here. Use it on your hands. Bacteria from Oni piss can be harmful to my humanoid and reptilian guests and I do not want you strewing it around.”

“Okay.” Moloch applied the sanitizer and sat in a large (to most beings) chair next to Sektor’s desk. It was barely big enough for Moloch.

“This is tiny.” Moloch squirmed in various positions trying to get comfortable.

“I have to accommodate all sorts of guests. Most are not as big as you.”

“Okay…” Moloch said like a child whose parent had just scolded him.

This was getting hard. Sektor could only ask the mentally challenged creature simple questions.

“Moloch, you and Drahmin assisted Quan Chi in his attempt to escape the Netherrealm, but he left you there. Then the two of you worked for Shang Tsung. He was temporarily Quan Chi’s ally. Was it hard for you to wait, knowing that you could not attack until he tried to betray your boss?”

“Mr. Shang Tsung was smart and nice. He knew what he was doing. So, if he said ‘Moloch, don’t eat him yet’, I wouldn’t eat him.”

“I understand that you ingest your victims’ flesh. Tell me more.”

“Whaa?”

“You eat your victims.”

“Yeah. I like to eat people. I think the bones are crunchy.”

“Fascinating. Do you eat everyone you kill?”

“Unhuh. Why kill somebody if you can’t eat them?”

Sektor decided not to answer. Instead, he asked another question.

“How did Shang Tsung convince you to work for him?”

“I dunno. He left and talked with Drahmin. Then, they came back, and Drahmin said we’d work for him.”

Moloch is too stupid to make any kind of decision on his own, Sektor processed. This brought him to his next line of questioning.

“How long have you known Drahmin?”

“I dunno…a really really long time. When I met, he was nice. He said that because I was big, I could help catch people for him to eat, and we could share.” The nature of Drahmin and Moloch’s relationship was becoming obvious to Sektor.

“Do you think that he might be using you?”

“No! Drahmin’s my friend!” Moloch jumped out of the chair, picked his ball up, and slung it wildly. Sektor shot a missile at Moloch’s left leg. The blue beast fell to the floor with a loud thud. The audience was cheering insanely throughout the whole ordeal.

“Uhhh…uhhh,” the Oni whimpered as he cradled his appendage. Sektor looked down at Moloch menacingly.

“Moloch said that he would be a good Oni.”

“I’m sorry, nice Mr. Ketchup. I—”

SPLURCH!

A disgusting wet sound bombarded Sektor’s audio sensors, accompanied by a horrid stench.

“What was that?”

“I go poopie,” Moloch said.

Someone in the audience loudly stated, “My six-hundred-year-old is going to love this!”

Sektor turned to four securityborgs.

“Get this thing out of here.” Then, he addressed the audience apologetically.

“That is all the time we have today”—he turned to a cameraborg—“Please tune in next time.”

Sektor had already begun to calculate: Moloch’s insane antics equal ratings equal koins equal access to Wal-Mart’s hidden stockpile.

Remember, YOU decide who Sektor interviews next. No one else will be humiliated.