"If you play the bad guy, losing doesn't matter."

I paused the game and looked up. The sounds of a full arcade swelled around me as I lost my tunnel-vision. A boy stood beside my machine, nodding. I nodded back and smiled slightly.

In the back of my mind, I wondered where the boy's guardian was. A quick memory of a news article I'd read online flashed in my mind. A boy in England had been abducted in a mall arcade and no one had even seen it. A CCTV camera was the only witness and it reported grainy pictures at best. The English boy had not been found alive.

"You want this game?"

"Nope. I like to watch."

I nodded again and returned to my game. Two stages left till level up.

"That's a new one."

I hummed noncommittally and pressed the buttons that would send my avatar rushing into a dark alley. AK-47 cocked, I ran into the dark with the intent of finishing this stage once and for all. I'd been dying in this dark alley for two days now.

"You should use a grenade there, where the barrels are."

I frowned in irritation but cycled through my ammunition. I lobbed a grenade, thinking, what the hell, nothing else has worked anyway.

The barrels exploded, sending a hidden platoon of enemy soldiers ablaze.

"Thanks!" I muttered to the boy. He had crept closer, his baby-soft hair brushing my shoulder.

"There, there. Shoot the sniper." He whispered with an intensity typical of gamers. I almost laughed as I blew the brains out of the sniper perched on a rooftop.

The boy was panting softly, exhalations breaking my sleeve. As I ran into the final door, I thought I could have kissed the top of his head. Finally! Stage 9.

I played for another hour, with my guide at my shoulder. I noticed things intermittently, between shooting enemies and dodging booby-traps. The boy settled on sliver of space I had left on the plastic chair. He whispered instructions that would annihilate the enemy. He shouted when I pressed the wrong buttons - overwhelmed by the colors and sounds exploding from the screen. He scolded me with nails biting into my thigh.

The final stage was too much for my tired fingers. My avatar died in a fountain of blood and guts.

I laughed when "GAME OVER" was announced. I couldn't help it.

The boy beside me frowned in disgust.

"You could have killed the General," he said, flatly. "You should have used the shotgun and targeted his head."

I shrugged and stretched my cramping hands. "It's a game." I said, more gently than I intended.

The boy looked up at me. I saw him for the first time, without a digital army to distract me.

He was younger than I thought. He stood and I noticed the spool of tokens spilling out of the pocket of his shorts. He was scowling. I wondered again where his guardian could be. Boys this young should not be left unsupervised in a mall arcade. Evil people, real ones, could be hiding anywhere, waiting for opportunities lying around. They take them like tokens, gathered to be redeemed later.

This boy would be a prize.

His cheeks were smooth and fair. His body was slight. A shotgun to the head was all it would take.

I stood up and ruffled his hair.

"See ya, kid."

"You could have won if you were younger."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Your fingers are too slow."

"Maybe."

"I could show you."

"What?"

"How to win."

"I never play the good guy, kid. It doesn't matter."

He smiled. I stifled a shudder and walked away.

Copyright 2011 Cristina Cheng