"Wow, an actual arcade!", he exclaimed.

A brightly yellow haired, not blonde-yellow, Ramona Flowers regarded her...let's leave out any possessive or role for now. And the title. I mean, he's not 'Mr. Pilgrim' or anything. She'd just wouldn't want to cross a line that would be difficult to uncross. So, Ramona Flowers regarded Scott.

"What are you, like, ten?", she asked.

Scott tried to read her expression. Bemusement over his child like antics? Annoyance modified by tolerance because she disliked this side of him? A hint of flirtatiousness...we was convinced her eyes wouldn't allow for anything else. "Uh...I'm nostalgic.", he offered.

"Come on, Mr. Nostalgia.", she commanded. And that 'mister' was joking. "Let's get it out of your system or you'll be climbing the walls all day."

"Yay!", he exclaimed as he scampered towards the arcade.

Ramona skated lesiurely at a slower pace. She liked taking in the towns she traveled, even if she rarely spent a long time in them. Not everywhere was New York or Toronto but they all had their reasons. A looming billboard was screaming one of those reasons. It seemed like every where had them.

"Building a Jaeger is building the Future! Apply today." Capital 'F'. She had a capital 'F' herself for how the world was nowadays. Every single time someone found out she was American the questions began.

"What's being a refugee like?", ignoring coming to Canada before San Francisco fell.

"Did any of your family survive?", without regards to whether she even had family.

"What was it like to be so close to a monster?" "I don't know. Listen, you've spent more time with your mother than I have. You tell me."

She saw people act the same way around any Asian, without even waiting for so much as an accent. And she wanted to be angry at them. But it wasn't like Canada wasn't on the Pacific Rim. And as population vs. shore line went, Canada was under the average per capita nearly as much as Chile. They were just scared. That made them scramble for any possibilities: church, news, heroes...even Jaegers.

Now you couldn't get a reasonable anything for a reasonable price due to everyone who was once in the business of providing them being upsized to Jaeger factories. A world wide supply chain that was unprecedented: American colleges training Iranian engineers to use Chinese minerals for European Union factories. Europe's anger at African illegal immigrants evaporated in the same manner the U.S.' did: any where there was a factory for the Jaeger program was visa (or at the very least an excuse to be overlooked).

But it opened up jobs for Scott and her to slide into when they blew into town.

She was brought out of her musings when Scott ran up to her. "You gotta" "see" "play" "help"/

Ramona raised a hand. "Whoa, slow down there."

Scott agreed. He took a few breaths and continued. "There's this game, but it needs two people. It's like the game Knives and I used to play but like, in the future!"

She nodded. "Alright. Lead on."

Scott led her to what looked like a DDR platform. But instead of arrow pads it had places to lock your feet. And a light gun rifle was holstered on both safety bars. Its screens blared "Cooperate to win! Agree to fight!" and other phrasings of the same sentiment.

"You'll have to take off your skates.", Scott began. "But I'll use my quarters. This is gonna be great."

Ramona wasn't so sure about that. But she took off her skates and laid them on their sides so they would not roll away. She strapped her feet in and looked to Scott. He was already strapped in, quarters inserted, rifle at the ready. She sighed and raised her rifle.

Winged, rocketed, ballooning, helicoptering and whatever else could hold them in the sky monsters rushed towards the screen. The screen only advanced when they both took a step with the same foot. Their shots only registered when they chose the same target at the same time. Whenever an enemy got close to them, it took them both swinging their light guns to knock it away or skewer it on the virtual bayonet.

The couple could never remember how long they played for. In one hand, they had never checked. In the other, what they found when they stopped playing was inscribed in their memories to the exclusion of everything else.

"um...Evening, officer?", Scott offered.

They were getting the stare down from a black suited, sunglasses indoors kind of guy. Who was backed up by mounties. Who could conduct their business unfettered because, as Scott could see through the arcades storefront windows, every single cop in the world was securing everything in sight.

"I hope you kids aren't in school, because you're gonna skip class tomorrow.", the man told him.

"I didn't cheat at the game or anything.", Scott objected. "I just didn't need to continue, so that's why it only took a few coins."

Ramona used the time Scott was eating up with the agent to put on her skates. A quick burst of speed, a subspace transit and this town would forget all about the two of them. But if Scott thought she was threatened...well, Scott was probably the best fighter in this province as well as the one he was born.

"Of course.", the man agreed. "This isn't an arrest. This is a job offer."

"Awwww...", Scott whined.