The place was long deserted after…the incident happened.

"I don't even think that's a very big bet. I'm just trying to think as hard as my seven pack abs!"

The tables were overturned. Decks of cards were thrown across the floor. The place was a complete mess.

"Max has…a pair of sevens!"

Sonicfiend and Olivia walked into the old, run-down bar.

"The Heavy has...two pair!"

The two of them studied the reckless cataclysmic destruction of the speakeasy they now stayed in.

"Strong Bad has…a flush!"

They looked at each other and sighed.

"Tycho has…a pair of nines."

"It's been quite a while since anyone's come in here. The cops shut this place down back in January." Sonicfiend recalled the information written on the case file back in the office.

"The Player has…Ace High. Strong Bad wins the hand."

"I don't think this one's gonna be so easy…" Olivia sighed.


Then, someone at the table fired. It was dark outside, so no one could clearly tell who or what they were shooting at. The body fell with a somewhat silenced thud, onto The Inventory's carpeted floor. The smoke from the barrel of the gun, heated from the bullet, cleared up.

The Host turned on the light, the lamp switch swaying back and forth as glare from the light hit Strong Bad's Dangeresue, Too? sunglasses.

He pointed, as best he could with boxing gloves for hands, at the body of The Player, whom had later been identified as MarioMaster, lying there, without movement, cold as a winter's night.

Everyone was quiet, for they realized what one of them had done. The Player was dead. And soon, one of them would have more on their plate to worry about than the ten thousand dollars they had bought into the game with.

"So, um…who gets his share of the pot?" Max questioned, slightly recovering from the shock.

"Max, don't you see what's happened?" The Host had a hint of fear in his voice, though not so much for MarioMaster as it was envisions of what might happen to The Inventory's reputation. "It just goes to show that anything can happen at The Inventory…"

The world was quite different after that. Max, no longer a Freelance Police officer, was reduced to hanging around all day with his friend-for-life, Lorne, and reminiscing about the days he used to spend with Sam, fighting crime. Sometimes even on purpose.

Strong Bad, once known as "The Rambling Wreck of Email Check", had sold off his computer, the top-of-the-line Compy Compé, and gotten back into the ring, once again rising as the fabled wrestleman he once was.

The Heavy, no longer content to show his face in public, had permanently gone back to the Dustbowl, battling Scouts and Spies to this day, with no breaks, and no more of his cherished sandwiches.

But it was Tycho who suffered the most terrible fate of all. He, too, sold off his computer—cutting off every social outlet he ever had—and left his job at Penny Arcade. He now lives as a homeless man on a curb, offering a dollar, or best offer, for his most prized possession—his twenty-sided die, and the Dungeons and Dragons account that came with it.

All because of the Murder at The Inventory…