Satchel
His Protector
Maybe now isn't the time for that though. Now is the time to ask for help. We've been invaded, and there's nothing I can do. Not by myself. They look just like us. They /are/ us. If there was a way to tell the difference, life wouldn't be so hard, but no, we're stuck in this mental state of constant panic that we can't even share with anyone. If this is something you're willing to put up with, and maybe save Earth while we're at it, then it might be worth enduring. Having even one person to share this with would be enough.
Join the fight to defeat the Yeerks.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
James wasn't much of a talker- not to strangers, at least. You never know who could be some creep wanting to harvest your young organs to sell them on the black market, or worse. At the arcade, though, he was more ready to let loose. He was James Harper- the one who holds the high score on Asteroids. Then again, that might be because it's 2018 and everyone's too busy playing the newer consoles, like the Dissidia Final Fantasy console that was donated by someone who won an Amazon contest- which was a fun game, no doubt, James was just terrible at playing it.
Mr. Owen, the arcade handyman, always made a point to talk to James when he was around. Mr. Owen was an older man, maybe in his late 50s or 60s, who had been working at this arcade since it opened about two years ago. The Arcade itself was part of a long string of stores at Laramy's Indoor Mall, which Mr. Owen saw as an opportunity to stop working on toilets and start working on arcade consoles- something he himself used to play with when he was younger.
"James, you realize you won't get any better if you don't actually try to play the newer games." Mr. Owen's voice was nothing raspy, but rather a smooth, silky sounding voice, on the lower side of the scale if you cared about that kind of thing.
"...yeah, I guess not- but I like playing as Zidane, and he's one the other players target first because he's a faster character." James looked at the man, who was wearing a normal striped polo, with blue jeans that looked unhealthily tight around his waist.
"Play as someone else."
"No one else is worthy of my playtime more than Zidane- unless they decided to add Vivi." James, distracted, failed to notice the amount of full sized asteroids heading towards his ship, and was destroyed, consuming his final life.
"Awh, man!" Desperately searching his pockets, James scrambled to find a quarter, only to find disappointment. He grabbed his bookbag, which was leaning on the side of the console, and headed out the arcade doors, and towards the exit of the mall.
