Fingered shadows sway on the wall, frail copies of the branches outside my window casting them. Faintly, the shh, shh of leaves rustling together leak through the reinforced glass, underlining the silence surrounding me. Leaving my small bag of newly-bought clothes on my bed, I let myself drift towards the window and peer into the large, ancient oak outside.

Grass stretches out around underneath it, speckled with carefully tended flowerbeds and a winding, gravel path which only ends at the forest's foot in the distance. Trees. Grass. Greenery. Everywhere!

I have never been out of the city like this, where nature reigns, and it is unnerving. There is no hum of hovercars swishing past, the gurgle of water rushing down pipes, or footsteps ghosting above you. No, there is only silence. Deep, utter silence that rings in my ears, murmuring with the static in my head.

Running my hands through my hair, I sigh and face the rest of my room. It is large—or at least, larger than my apartment's bedroom—and fully decked out with furniture and even a walk-in closet. And this safe house isn't even a mansion.

Shaking my head, I grab my bag and sift through its contents. It's mostly long-sleeve shirts, hoodies, and baggy pants, like my previous wardrobe, but it holds some brighter colors that I didn't have before, like a shirt that's a rather pleasant shade of forest-green, a light blue hoodie, and a nice deer-hide tan pair of pants. Not bad, I guess.

Scooping up all the clothes and nudging open the walk-in closet's door, I begin to hang them up and sort everything that doesn't hang into neat piles. I don't need to organize this but it's something to do. Something to occupy me and keep me away from the heroes downstairs.

A knock sounds at the door. Well... Keep me away from the heroes unless they decide to come to me. "Yeah?"

David opens the door and peers around, short electric blue hair clashing horribly with the neutral gray paint on the walls. His eyes land on me and quirks one eyebrow. "How's it going?"

I shrug. "Fine, I guess." I am just sorting clothes. That can't really go wrong. Unless they come alive and start attacking you, a part of me mutters and I have to suppress the urge to roll my eyes. Like that'll ever happen.

"Hmm." David studies me for a beat and opens the door wider, stepping inside. "Well, take a break and be a geek for a while."

My movements slow and I narrow my eyes at him. "A what?"

He chuckles and folds his arms. "A geek. Someone who knows and likes something a lot, you know."

"I know that." Hanging up one last shirt, I face him, eyeing the mischievous glint in his eyes. What is he up to? "But why would I be a geek?"

A grin splits his face, the glint in his eyes growing brighter. "Because you are a geek."

"I am?" Since when? First keeping plants as a hobby and now being a geek? What kind of villain am I?

David laughs and slaps my shoulder playfully. "Oh yeah. You were probably the closest geek to being as geeky as me. Have you ever wondered why we were good coffee friends? That's why. We could talk on and on about games, movies, books—you name it. I almost missed heroing once because of it."

I stare at him, mouth slightly open. Who would have guessed that? Me? A geek? I—I almost don't believe him. But he said he would tell me things that he remembered about my old self. Just...he's a geek too? I glance over him and his vibrant, stand-out-of-the-crowd style. "You're— a geek too?"

"Yep. Where do you think this style came from?" He waves a hand at himself. "Favorite character designs mashed together into one awesome costume! Now come and be a geek with me. I've brought some of our favorite games along to show you."

Setting aside the clothes, I follow him down the stairs, past the living room where Citizen sorts through a couple of bags, and to the back of the house where a somewhat small room—compared to all the others—is tucked between the dining room and the kitchen.

It's fairly open with a large cylinder in the back corner; a shelf full of movies, games, and various game-related decorations on the wall the door is; and a couch in front of a large screen mounted on the right wall. A small shelf is under it, full of controllers and a surround-sound system, and two large black circles are set on the floor in between the couch and the screen.

David throws his arms open as he strides inside. "Welcome to the game room! Otherwise known as the Super Fun room."

Lingering in the doorway, I glance around, little pieces of familiarity and recognition racing up from my childhood memories. "Pretty sweet setup you've got here." My eyes fall on the cylinder stretching from floor to ceiling in the corner. "Is...that a simulation cylinder?"

"Yeah. Perks of being a hero and all. Comes in handy when you need a break and a new game in your favorite series is released." A sly grin slips onto his face and he dips down, gathering a few games and spreading them out on the couch. He holds up a game sheath with a short holographic animation of its title forming an acrostic with words describing the game on its cover. "Like Acrostic II."

Despite myself, curiosity niggles at my resolve to remain cold and distant from the heroes. I am a villain after all, but...apparently that didn't stop me before. Inwardly sighing, I join David at the couch, peering at each of the games.

There are four games laid out, all in fancy animated holographic sleeves. The first three are games that make sense for a villain like me to like: a first-person shooter; a high dark fantasy MMORPG starring a mix of morally gray characters; and Acrostic II, a puzzle-solving game set in a dystopian AI-controlled world as a computer bug.

The fourth one, though, is not even remotely intuitive. "The Boopie Game?" I turn it over, frowning at the, "for ages 8-12" written on the back. Familiarity pokes through the static, pulling me back into my childhood in which I played many video games with my brother, specifically this one. "This is for children."

"It's marketed to children. That one was one of your top favorites. It's a great game!" David grins and takes the sleeve from me, heading over to the screen. "Here, let's start with this. It's easier for non-gamers—or, well, returning gamers—than the others." Slipping out a long, rectangular chip from the sleeve, he slides it into a slit on the side of the screen.

The screen lights up with the title screen of the Boopie Game and light, energetic music fills the room. David reaches under the screen and pulls out a box full of controllers, rummages around, and produces two sets of movement-based controllers. "Put these on," he says, handing a set to me. "The straps go around your wrists and the cuffs around your ankles."

The cuffs give a satisfying snap as I position them around my ankles—snug, but not too tight—and light up along with one of the black circles in the floor. "Magnetics activated." Memory clicks into place, easing the sharpened corners of my caution. The circle is an in-game walking track—a fancy name for a ball set in the floor that you can walk on to move in the game.

Inwardly nodding, I drop my eyes to the controller which has two straps for my wrists. Securing the straps, I tap all the buttons that I can reach, re-familiarizing myself with the feeling and recalling their functions. Left for attacking and right for interacting, and, if I remember right... I grip both sides and snap the controller in half like a cracker. The left half lights up with red and the right side with blue, leaving little trails of color as I move them around. A smile creeps onto my face. I actually know how to use these things!

David glances over, a grin lighting his face. "Hey, you figured it out."

"I actually remember this." I wave the controllers around and turn to him, the smile widening on my face and brightness lightening my chest. "My brother and I used to play with our set all the time."

David brightens, a spark leaping into his eyes. "That's great! Did that memory come back to you, or is it from before?"

"Before."

His grin dims a little, but it doesn't stop him from slapping my back and laughing. "Oh well. Who knows, maybe more will come back as you play."

More memories...coming back. My heart lifts, tentatively reaching for the hope the thought brings, but I pull it back. My power doesn't work that way. Still, the hope persists, glimmering in the dark cavity of my chest. Maybe there's a chance, it says. Maybe you can get your memories back by playing this game.

I watch as David navigates the menus, choosing split screen so that we can play a character each, logging into his account, and setting up an account for me. After a short tutorial on the basic mechanics in which I nearly fall over while figuring out how to walk on my floor-circle, David soups me up with some armor and a sword and takes me out of the main spawn point.

"Alright," David says as he easily lopes on his circle. "Come over here and pet this rock."

I squint, slowing to a walk as I catch up with him. The cuffs around my ankles keep my feet from leaving the circle, buzzing each time I move forward too much. It's an odd feeling, but I am getting used to it. "Why?"

With a few flicks of his blue controller half, David turns his character—a squishy, four-legged thing decked out in orange armor—to face me. "Just do it."

Apprehension builds like a snowball rolling down a hill inside of me and I squint. That's totally not a suspicious answer at all. "If this kills me, it's your fault." Tentatively, I reach out with my blue controller and press the interact button.

The rock lets out an ear-piercing, hair-raising scream that ends like a piccolo being snapped in half. I jerk back with a gasp, senses tingling like they are full of static electricity. What on earth? "Did that...rock just scream at me?"

David laughs, grinning his face off and waving his character's foreleg at me. "It did!"

"Why?" Why would that be a thing? To jump-scare people? To make people accidentally blank their controllers?

"Because it's random! You'll find all sorts of stuff like that here. It's part of the point of the game: random, childhood semi-nonsense mixed up with fantastical dreams and stabbing things."

And I liked this game? Why? Wouldn't a villain want something more...serious? Memory flashes by, filled with hours upon hours of intense concentration as my brother and I grind, battle, and mess around in this crazy video game. It was silly, wacky, and unrealistic, but...we were totally invested in it. We had fun with it. Together.

"Blep!" A bright yellow, fluffy puppy runs onto the screen, barreling straight for us with bared teeth. It takes a swipe at David, who leaps back and draws his sword, then opens its mouth to bite me.

Ice shoots down my arms, flinging me into action. Ducking and scuttling backwards, I punch the air as hard as I can, making my character stab the puppy.

It snarls and swipes at me. My character takes the hit and the controllers in my hands buzz warningly. Ice flares again, biting hard into my fingers, and I jump forward, hacking and slashing wildly at the puppy in front of me. Just as it's about to hit me with another blow, David runs in and stabs it hard. With a cry, the puppy fluffs up and poofs into sparkles.

The drumbeat of my heart pounds loud in my ears, punctuated by the hiss of my breath and the sting of frost in my fingers. That— that was—

David turns towards me with a huge grin, a sparkle of triumph lighting up his eyes. "That wasn't half bad of a strategy."

A weak, shaky laugh ghosts from my lips. "That was panicking, not strategy."

He waves his blue controller. "Same diff. It worked, didn't it?"

The corner of my lip twitches upwards. I was far too close to blanking my controllers there. And yet, on the edges of the energy zinging through my body, elation peers in. I did it. I didn't die—even while I was panicking. Maybe there's hope for me in real-life surprise attack situations. "Yeah," I breathe. "Yeah, it did."

David goes on to show me all his and my old favorite features, spilling gaming secrets and easter eggs as freely as a waterfall. We spend the rest of our time touring the map, nearly dying to puppies, and messing around with weird, random, and slightly impossible kid-logic mechanics.

It's crazy, even silly, but as time goes on, I slowly forget that I am a villain wanted by the hero beside me. That doesn't matter in this game. There are no true villains, no heroes, no identity-threatening questions in this world of cute randomness. None of that matters.

Here, we are just boopies messing around. Friends, enjoying throwing various objects off a cliff far too much to see what random thing they'll do when they land. People, playing together as equals.

I can't help but smile, laugh, shout in victory over the death of a difficult boss and forget myself. Forget everything. It's an escape, and I will take it.

The back of my neck prickles and I glance up. Citizen leans against the door frame, eyes masked with shadows and a strange, twisted expression. Everything—villains, heroes, all the lies, questions, and dangers—crashes into me, opening an aching void in my chest.

Citizen tears his gaze away and pushes off the door. He walks away, back stiff and head held high like a monarch walking to his death.

A lump fills my throat and I turn my attention back to the screen. I am a villain. I am their enemy. And yet...is it wrong to want to choose something else? A different fate?

Clenching my jaw, I pour the ache into my hands and let it spur me forward, attempting to forget again—to be lost in the childhood fantasy of the Boopie Game. The ache does not leave. It grows until it fills all of me with a thick, dark coat of emptiness. In the middle, at my very core, is a voice that wails against the static in my head.

Can we go back to the start, where we were all strangers in the dark? it cries. Where we were neither hero or villain, just two friends bonding over coffee? Can I choose something else than the lonely path of villains? And finally, in the smallest whisper—almost an echo—of it all, Should I let the heroes catch me? Would it be better that way?

A shiver seeps into my bones, jittering through the marrow and pressing at my joints like bubbles of irritation trapped under the ice. I...wouldn't be alone, then. Possibly. A coin drops into my chest, gleaming an alluring gold as it rolls and gently comes to a stop.

I weigh it in the darkness of my mind, not daring to flip it.