Video games certainly are an interesting social phenomenon. Ever since their introduction to the public market in 1972, they have grown wildly, collapsed, and risen back from the ashes stronger than ever before. From Atari to Nintendo to Sega to Sony and all in between, the hardware alone has a rich history of variety and ingenuity. Many franchises like Super Mario Bros., Final Fantasy, and The Sims have become just as iconic as the major film and television properties. Indeed, the industry makes more than movies and music. Hundreds of millions of people the world over have had their lives profoundly touched by the medium, with their presence a mainstay in many a childhood.

Yet, adults always had a difficult time with them right from the beginning and one is hard pressed to understand why. Perhaps it was their limited graphics, abstract controls, or seeming frivolity, but they just never seemed to catch on with people over the age of 30. It has only been recently that a sizable adult demographic has formed, but even they seem to branch out from their own childhoods. Start with Pac-Man, refine with Street Fighter, and before they know it, they're playing Halo with people half their age. It almost seems like video game skills are only gained through youthful experimentation at times.

Even then, there are adults with no childhood experience that take to video games well and not just the casual simulation of the Nintendo Wii, either; there are grandmothers who play games like Resident Evil 5 and Grand Theft Auto IV, middle aged politicians stealing public funds to build high end gaming computers, and 41 year old mothers immediately delving into and progressing within action-RPGs without ever seriously playing a game in their life. These exceptions to the rules are quite fascinating and also baffling to the other adults around them. Even now, a husband can't understand his wife's sudden hobby.

"Angie, darling, where are you?" calls out a man in his early forties as he walks through his lavish home. While he isn't much to look at on his own, there's just something about his tuxedo that raises him above the average person. Perhaps clothes do make the man.

"I'm in here, Davie, darling," calls out a feminine voice. The man dubbed Dave walks through the well adorned hallways and emerges within the living room. Here she is, garbed in her best formal blue gown with jewelry to match while playing some video game. Seems just a little surprising, but Dave is already used to it.

"Ah," Dave says, "Still playing that game, I see."

"Of course," Angela responds passively, fiddling with the controller.

"I thought you'd be excited for tonight," Dave says, "It's been so long since you've last sung for an audience. You've always talked about how you wanted to get on stage again and feel those woodwind vibrations carry your voice to new heights."

"You're right, honey," Angela says, "But we are a few minutes early and I wanted to test this idea I have. Shouldn't be long."

"You know," Dave starts as he walks to a nearby couch and casually sits next to a black clad girl, "Maybe we were smothering Emily a little. Looking back, I can see it now. We wanted to help her because it always seemed like she wouldn't help herself. Remember that time I offered to get her martial arts lessons?"

"Indeed," Angela chuckles, "She thought we were just making fun of her for being 'weak'. I don't know, were we?"

"Of course not," Dave says, "I guess we didn't try to really understand her or her hobbies. You have the right idea with playing this game. We can talk with her about it when she gets back."

"She's not coming back," Angela sighs somberly.

"She just ran away," Dave says, "She'll come back on her own eventually. Just like that last time."

"It's been six weeks," Angela says, "The police issued a missing child alert to all the outlets from Lake Coast to Border Town. There's nothing but farmland for at least twenty miles in any direction and none of the farmers have reported anybody unusual showing up. But more importantly, her purse was just lying there on the side of the road with her money and some jewelry still inside. She wouldn't have ran away without it and someone mugging her wouldn't have just left it there. Nobody called in with a ransom yet, so it's only safe to assume some sicko took her away."

"But that's so dire," Dave continues, "I'm sure she'll come back. You know... the police called the other day and asked me if I knew why her purse was so radioactive."

"Come on," Angela says with a tinge of annoyance, "You think this is some science fiction story? That some meteor obliterated her and left her purse behind? Or maybe that some radioactive sludge monster ate her? Perhaps a time traveler kidnapped her? Maybe her future self, even?"

"I guess not," Dave sighs, starting to reach towards the nearby end table. The girl quickly squirms back into the seat to dodge his arm as he picks up a picture.

"Well, I'm ready," Angela says, tossing aside the controller as she stands up, "I'm going to give everyone the best concert ever. For Emily."

"For Emily," Dave reaffirms, walking alongside Angela as they exit the living room. A couple minutes go by before the black clad girl stands up from the couch, looking upwards towards the sky.

"Well, those are certainly horrible parents," the girl says, "To think: they're playing your video games in an attempt to understand you better? How could they ever understand the true you?"

The girl walks through the hallways, her fingers going over the surfaces as she examines the place. Such a curious reaction to a modest little suburban home.

"What is it you want?" the girl asks to no particular direction, "To be special? Not human? Find out one day that you're not the product of those horrible parents that feed you, shelter you, comfort you, unconditionally buy you video games, accept you for who you are, and stand up for you against bullies both student and teacher alike? God, that sounds positively primeval, doesn't it? What do you really want to be? A princess? A dragon? An alien? Someone with an exotic flair and extraordinary power either physical or social?"

The girl stops in front of a hanging picture frame, taking in the sight. Angela and Dave are standing with a ten year old Emily in front of a horse stable, smiling widely as their daughter looks kind of annoyed. The prominent placement of this one picture seems to suggest that this is about as happy as she looks, with the smaller pictures around confirming this suspicion.

"Poor, poor you," the girl laments, "Stuck as a tall human girl, unable to just use your intimidating stature for your own benefit and letting people walk all over you. The solution right in front of your face and you won't even consider it. Sucks to be you."

The girl makes her way back to the couch, casually falling back into a reclining position. With a sigh, she nods her head down and closes her eyes.

"But you have more pressing issues," the girl says dreamily, "Come on, wake up. Rise and shine to face the new day that awaits you in fantasy land. There's nothing here for you in this passing dream, anyway."

--

And so, Emily wakes up in that same sort of woozy trance that seems to dog her everywhere she goes. It's really quite disappointing when one thinks about it. Go in expecting a nice adventure with action, suspense, and romance just to get real danger, real pain, real injury, and the potential for real death. Instead of merely finding the hidden keystone, Emily has to contend with monstrous creatures of genuine threat trying to kill her in brutal ways. Rather than a graceful couple of slashes or an effortless spell of mass destruction, she has to fight with sheer determination and finds herself almost as damaged as her opponents in the end. All that to wake up in another hospital gown without anyone that matters close to her.

"Welcome back," Uina says with boredom from a corner of the room without glancing away from his project, "Get a good night's rest?"

"Where am I?" Emily asks as she rubs her forehead.

"The Four Winds, of course," Uina sighs, "You aren't really that inattentive, are you?"

"I guess..." Emily responds, feeling herself for her shrapnel wounds. Just like she expected, they seem to have all vanished with nary a scar to mark their former presence. Whether by her quick healing or the medical expertise of somebody on board, it's certainly impressive work.

"That was quite the foolhardy stunt you pulled back there," Uina comments, "I still have to admire your courage, though."

"Thank you," Emily says, the weight of her dream hanging heavily around her neck, "...I have something to tell you."

"Yes?" Uina says, finally looking up from his project. His sudden interest is rather unnerving to Emily, but she can't let that get to her.

"I've been having dreams..." Emily mutters, her voice wavering at some built up shame, "The girl in black is-"

"Talking to you?" Uina interrupts as he abruptly shoves through his mobile workstation, flasks shattering and brass clattering as he dashes towards some lockers.

"Well, yeah, sh-" Emily starts.

"SORA! RIKU!" Uina shouts, frantically grabbing one of his signature weapons.

"What ar-" Emily attempts, cut short as Uina shoves the business end of his brass baton right between her eyes.

"Silence!" Uina orders forcefully, "I don't want to see a single movement from you. Not even a single word. Do not expect me to hesitate even for a second."

"What's going on..." Riku says as he runs into the room alongside his faithful companion.

"We have an avatar here," Uina announces.

"DAMNIT!" Sora loudly laments as his face contorts in rage.

"Now's not the time," Uina commands, "Sora, hold her down. Riku, the ethermute."

Sora reluctantly shoves Emily down into her bed by her shoulder and thigh, his strength surprising for a small frame like his. Riku walks over to a nearby glass framed box and elbows through it, grabbing a syringe of sickly brown fluid. All the while, Uina has taken out a scalpel and started cutting through Emily's gown. She'd almost feel humiliated if she wasn't so deathly scared by everybody's actions. Even as Uina starts dragging his finger over her chest, she wants nothing more than to scream out for an answer. Why are they doing this? Why have they stopped even acting like she's a human?

"Found it," Uina says, reaching back and taking the syringe from Riku.

"Why-" Emily shouts as her teacher stabs the needle into her heart with all his might. A sudden jolt goes through her body as she launches upwards, sitting up as her heavy breaths resonate throughout. Dizziness swarms through her as gravity tries to pull her back down, the pain all over her torso near unbearable. Amidst the torment and confusion, Kiko almost fails to notice the scene around her. Uina is back at that workstation while Sora and Riku are nowhere to be found, the area clean and the glass box intact. Was it all just a dream?

"Welcome back," Uina says without glancing away from his project, "I'd ask if you got a good night's rest, but you obviously didn't. Bad dream?"

"I guess you could say that," Kiko responds, rising up to look around. A surge of agony goes through her chest as she feels her skin tearing with every millimeter of incline. It takes all her effort not to scream out in agony.

"You might want to avoid that," Uina starts, "We treated you for multiple puncture wounds with extensive lung, kidney, stomach, colon, and liver damage along with severe hemorrhaging causing shock throughout. The sort of thing that would kill a normal person, but as we both know, you and I aren't normal by any definition of the word. You should be fine by the time we get back home. However, I do have to wonder how you managed to get bone fragments lodged in your chest like that."

"I think I shot it too close with an explosive bullet," Kiko responds, staring at the emergency medicine cabinet. She refuses to believe the vision was merely a dream. It was too real. Too vivid. But for her to go from completely uninjured to her current state just because of one shot is a bit hard to swallow. It's also hard to believe that Uina would be this good at acting oblivious. Still, there is one way to cut to the chase.

"Something bugging you?" Uina asks with his eyes still on his soldering project.

"What's eeth-uhr-moot?" Kiko carefully queries with fake syllabic stress. Perhaps not careful enough with Uina suddenly stopping his project and looking up with a piercing stare. Well, that's not a good sign. His darting eyes between her face and the cabinet is all the proof she needs.

"That is the most impressive eyesight ever," Uina says, relaxing back into his detached self, "Ethermute is the organization's dirty little secret. Our own personal Carnivore. Just fifty milligrams injected into the heart results in an immediate and irreversible nullification of all magic, quantum biology, and psionics while purging all non-human DNA within fifty alleles of four samples and parasites down to the last microbe. It is the single most effective weapon we have against doppelgangers, Nobodies, avatars, and other supernatural infiltrators."

"What makes it so dirty?" Kiko asks.

"Where to begin?" Uina ponders, "To start, it's a 14 base alkaline. While I doubt you remember your chemistry class, I can best sum it up by saying it's just as nasty as acid. The mortality rate from heart damage alone is around 30 percent. Even if you survive the injection and have it successfully cycle out of your system, it still leaves permanent tissue damage within the nervous system. The best case scenario is to be effectively lobotomized and emotionless for the rest of your life; worst case is stark raving insanity requiring institutionalization. Not exactly something you include in the press releases. We'd like to stop stocking it, but it's a necessary counter-measure and we've had no luck developing anything safer. At least it's better than our old solution."

"Do I even want to know?" Kiko asks.

"Oh, it's nothing special," Uina starts, making a sideways L shape with his thumb and index finger, "Just a good old fashioned hollow point bullet in the temple. Bang. Never under-estimate the basics."

"Where is everybody?" Kiko asks before this line can go any further.

"Oh, everybody already disembarked," Uina starts.

"Wait, we're home already?" Kiko asks with disbelief. Why didn't he wake her up sooner?

"Since a couple hours ago, yeah," Uina divulges casually, "Once you walk off this ship, you're going to have to submit to debriefing. Just the usual stuff. Repeat your given orders, describe the events, don't mention the prime core gathering and you're good."

"I got one while I was out there, I think," Kiko responds, fishing into her pants pocket. As she feels some long ridged object, she remembers how she stole one of the brass batons. It's a good thing Uina apparently didn't bother to search her.

"Don't take it out right now," Uina quickly commands, "You can just drop it off in a box on your way out. Anyway, all things considered, I think you did pretty well. Sure, you wasted a lot of expensive ammunition and got yourself mauled, but nobody's perfect."

"Thanks, I guess," Kiko says.

"Well, I have to get going," Uina says, rising out of his seat, "Duty calls and all that jazz. I think you should be able to walk out in an hour or two. Outsiders like you and I recover pretty quickly. I'll keep a drone posted to escort you for debriefing. Don't push yourself."

With that, Uina walks off the ship with his usual lack of flair, leaving Kiko to think about her situation. It would be unwise to tell anyone about her visions if all she can expect is a syringe in the heart or a bullet to the brain, but to think that she might be that dangerous by presence alone is a scary thought. She'll just have to research a solution on her own without anybody noticing. In the mean time, at least she has what might be the start of some magical ability. Feeling it within her pockets, the lack of any unusual sensation reveals to her that she she has no clue how to actually use the thing. Then again, even if she figures it out, what really differentiates it from conventional weaponry, anyway?

"Oh, one last thing," Uina announces as he walks back in, startling Kiko, "It seems you got some fan mail from Mr. Le Bon. It came in... 'Sora's' 10,000 munny purchase. Never knew he liked music that much. Have fun."

Uina casually flings the dark red envelope towards Kiko as he walks out, once again leaving her to her devices. She forgot all about that whole paycheck deal. Kind of regretful, since she didn't even get to spend her's properly. Maybe she'll have a future use of the card for... something. Well, at least it comes with a wallet. Much easier to also remember the ID if it has some bulk to it. Not wasting any more time, Kiko opens the envelope to find a pretty fancy letterhead from SLB Enterprises.

My dearest Queen of the Stone Age,

Welcome back from your no doubt dangerous and exciting mission. I'm glad you're safe and sound. Maybe. You can still at least see, I hope. If someone else is reading this (with or without your knowledge), I'd like to mention that I'm a very rich man, I'm aware of the local privacy laws, and the maroon envelope isn't just a coincidence.

Moving on, I thought over what you said about your origin and the dimensions. Quite a marvel to meet someone from the same century. While I find it unlikely you'd really go to so much effort for an album, I can recognize a good opportunity when I see it. Even if all I got was the one band's discography, I have to believe they have some talent to inspire such an attempt. I'll do what I can to get some research and development on trans-dimensional portal. Hopefully, a fly won't enter the machine and cause you to mutate into a hideous monster.

Joking aside, if you need something, just call me. Keep my card on your fridge or something. I have daily shipments across the galaxy and stock in a nice hotel on every world that matters. After all, even an eternal life is too short to find all the presidential suites booked. Just give me some advance notice and I'll arrange for travel and accommodations where ever you want to go.

Outsiders like you and I need to stick together, after all. An eternity of unfriendliness is no fun no matter how you look at it. Believe me, I know. I was married once.

Signed,
Simon Le Bon
Owner and Chairman Executive Officer of SLB Records

P.S. I find it hard to believe you're 15 with assets like that.