I don't own Mortal Kombat, and any relations to places or persons, real or fictional, are strictly coincidental.

Now let's see what our favorite gunslinger is up to.

Erron Black slept under the stars that night.

Or, more accurately, he slept in an alley using a tattered and stained blanket as a pillow. But he was under the stars. It was a far cry from his straw mattress in Outworld, but he'd slept in worse places. He recalled the time he once slept in a cave in the Outworld desert. He had never known how cold deserts could be until that night.

So he had few complaints when he lay down on his back, looking up at the stars. Once again, he decided to hold off on the "I wonder how I'll get back" thing. He just pulled his hat over his face and was sound asleep in minutes.

Erron awoke to the smell of smoke. He wrenched his eyes open to find another man--most likely homeless based on the big, patchy coat and dirty appearance--smoking a cigarette while lounging against the alley wall. Erron shoved himself to a sitting position.

"Sorry," the homeless man said when he saw Erron stirring. He had a deep, gravelly voice. "Is this bothering you?" he said holding his cigarette up.

"No, no," Erron replied, wiping the sleep from his dark eyes, "in fact, mind if I have one?" He hadn't smoked in ages for they had nothing similar to tobacco on Outworld.

"Sorry," the man said, "only have the one."

"Dammit," Erron growled, "thanks anyway."

"Yep," the man said and continued smoking. After a while, he asked, "You, uh, in the same situation as I am?"

"What situation would that be?" Erron asked.

"Are you a bum," the man said bluntly, "like me?"

"Not really," Erron smiled a little under his bandana. "I'm more like," he searched for the right word, "a drifter."

"Heh, you look the part," the man laughed. "What's with the mask anyway? You a criminal?"

Well, probably. I did kill a guy last night.

"Nah," Erron said instead, pulling the bandana off his face, "just keeping my face warm." It was an awful excuse but the bum didn't question it. He just kept smoking.

"Name's Thomas by the way," he said after a long drag.

"Erron," the gunslinger introduced himself. He didn't feel like lying and couldn't find a reason to.

"Nice to meetchya, Erron." Thomas said throwing the cigarette butt aside. "So, if ya don't mind me asking," he started, stretching his arms above his head, "where ya drifting off to?"

Erron huffed and answered, "If I knew I'd tell ya, partner." He took his hat off and ran a hand through his brown hair. "First of all," he continued, "where am I, now?"

"Don't know where you been drifting, eh?" Erron just shrugged. "Heh. You're in Goodwater, Tennessee," Thomas answered.

"Thanks," Erron said standing up. "That's all I need. I'll be on my way now." He made to leave.

"Oh, if you got nowhere to go, there's a place on Fourth," Thomas called out to the receding gunslinger.

"Thanks," Erron called back, walking off.

Erron was completely unsure of where he was going. He had no money, nowhere to go,--save that place on "Fourth"--and no clear goal in mind. But the walk he was taking gave him a good chance to check out how much Earthrealm has changed since he's been gone.

He noticed big, metal, horseless vehicles that moved much faster than any carriage or horse he's seen before. He noticed that Earthrealm clothing has also changed since he's been in Outworld; bright colors, and a lot of them, seemed to be the fashion. He'd seen electricity before due to frequent Special Forces visits, but he had no idea how much they used it. Even now, in the early morning, he could see excessive uses of the energy; signs, rooms, even in the Earthrealmers' hands. Almost all of them held boxes to their heads or close to their faces, tapping them rigorously.

The change was a bit too much for the cowboy, so he stepped into another alley to gather his bearings. He sat down and took a breath, finally deciding now would be a good time to think about how he'd get back to Outworld; because he was not staying in Earthrealm any longer than he had to after seeing what it had become.

He wracked his brain for ideas on do-it-yourself inter-realm travel.

... nothing.

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. The only thing he could do was: A. Wait for the Kahn or someone to come get him and teleport him back to Outworld or
B. Find another portal.

Only the former seemed remotely possible, so he ought to find a place to hole up until rescue.

After coming to that conclusion, he only had time to stand up before he heard an agitating voice.

"Don't move!" the voice commanded.

Erron casually turned around to see a man, more like a boy really, heavily dressed, with a red bandana covering up the bottom half of his face. In his hand, he held a knife about as big as the one Erron would use to pick his teeth with. The outlaw guessed his stance was meant to look hostile, but to him, it just looked sloppy.

"What now?" Erron said, more wearied than wary.

"Give me all your money!" the boy commanded.

"Listen, junior, I've been having a bad day." Erron explained, "I'm sore all over, and I'm in a foreign city with absolutely no money. Get lost."

"Bullshit!" the would-be mugger snapped, "Cut the shit and give me your money!"

The gunslinger sighed. "I said," Erron whipped one if his revolvers out of his pants and pointed it at the youngster's head, "get lost."

The boy's false bravado fell the second the gun came out. He dropped the knife and fell to his knees, begging and pleading for his life.

Really, Erron thought to himself, eyes half-closed, this is what bandits are like nowadays?

"Look," Erron tried to say through the boy's sobbing, "I'm not... I'm not... shut up!" the boy instantly quieted at the outburst. "I'm not gonna kill you. Now run on home to your mother, Shitbird. Before I change my mind." The kid got to his feet at once, "Wait, gimme your jacket." The boy tore off the brown coat and tore off running.

Erron slipped the brown coat on. It was too big on the boy, so, as he predicted, a perfect fit on him; big enough to hide his guns under it as well.

That, combined with the hat, probably made him look very shady, but he liked the look. Plus, he was pretty sure he would blend in better with the Earthrealmers now.

Completely unfazed by the attempted robbery, Erron exited the alley before remembering he was lost. He ought to look for "Fourth" but he didn't even know what that place was, let alone where. Guess I'll have to ask someone. He sighed and approached a woman leaning against a sign. She was a perfect example of how Earthrealmers like wearing bright colors.

"'Scuse me, darlin'," Erron began, switching to his nice-guy lingo. The woman looked up from her electric box and Erron continued. "Do you know where 'Fourth' is?"

"Fourth Street?" the woman questioned.

"Sure," Erron said unsure.

"You know where the Walgreen's is?" the woman asked pointing.

"No."

"Well then, uh," the woman seemed unsure, "then, just follow the road that way," she pointed again, "you'll see a Walgreen's, go right from there," Erron nodded as she spoke." You'll find a green sign labelled 'Fourth Street.'"

"Thank you ma'am," Erron said with a nod. He waved and walked in the direction the woman pointed.

He got lost four blocks later.

The Outworlder paced the street, cursing to himself. He was usually really good with direction, but the layout of the city was so damn confusing to him. He stopped pacing, chose a direction, and walked straight forward, looking for green walls.

A few minutes later, a loud piercing noise came to him. He spun towards it, nearly pulling out his guns on instinct.

One if those metal vehicles he saw earlier was parked in the street near him; the side was labelled "Police." Out stepped a man dressed in all gray wearing a weird hat. He walked straight up to Erron.

"Good morning, sir," the policeman greeted the gunslinger.

"Hi," Erron said warily. "Can I help you?"

"Actually, yes," the officer pulled a notebook out of his belt. "We're looking for a man wanted for murder
and assault. He was last seen leaving Debra's bar in a cowboy hat."