November 10, 2012 at 11 AM, Fort Worth, TX: Preston

"Naw, dude. If you're gonna pay over two hundred bucks for a microphone, you should at least grab a couple sheets of sound foam. What's the point of buying a high def mic when you're just gonna be echoing all over the place?" Jeez this guy's a cheapskate! Vince's willing to dish out all kinds of money for some gaming mouse he claims is the freakin' bomb, but he won't shell out forty bucks for four giant sheets of acoustic foam that'll last forever? Now that's what we call a plebian, ladies and gentlemen.

"It's a pretty small room, though, and I covered the floor with rugs. It shouldn't be that bad."

"Did you cover the walls with rugs, too? How about the ceiling?" I can hear him do a little chuckle-sigh and I'd bet five bucks he's rubbing his temples again like his head's gonna split open. "Just grab some. It's el cheapo."

"Yes, boss. No lunch for me again this week."

"No pain, no stain, no gain. You know the rules. Besides, you don't hafta buy it now. You said you weren't ready to start your channel yet so what's the hurry?"

"About that..."

"Yes? Don't make me hafta con-Vince you again." Even after like fifty times, that joke's still hilarious. And Jerome thinks he's the funny one. Funny lookin' maybe.

"Nah, G. I was just wondering if... you'd mind me giving it a try before I actually made a channel? You know, to get the feel of it before I make a giant fool out of myself?" Oh, so that's what he's been so worried about all week. He was trying to come up with a way to ask me if he could record with me. I thought he was having a nervous breakdown from his job or something.

"Sure. I'm down whenever you are. You wanna use 'Vincenzio' or are you gonna make a new account?"

"I... I think I'll keep that username for now, but I want to change it before I start my own channel. I really don't... Ireallydon'twantanyonetofindmypersonalaccounts."

"Huh?"

"I don't want to use my old usernames or my real name on YouTube. I don't want anyone to find my personal accounts and get into my photos and stuff like that. I want YouTube to be its own thing over here, and everything else can be over there somewhere. I wanna keep it on the down-low, yo." He's really serious about this anonymous no-facecam, no-convention thing isn't he? Why's he so scared of people seeing him? Is he afraid someone's gonna go nutso on him like they did when the hacker went after Mitch? I mean, I guess it's not too crazy to be scared of hooded weirdos tryin' to beat you down in front of your house like they're playing Assassin's Creed. Him hiding behind his screen isn't gonna help him in the views department, though. He might just be making everything much harder for himself.

"If that's what you wanna do. So what am I supposed to call you?" He hesitates for a few seconds. Is he gonna have this much trouble when we start recording, or is he just trying to tell me some deep, dark secret? Looks like we're gonna be doing a butt ton of practice recordings until he gets the hang of it and we can start posting stuff. But who can blame him? We all hafta start somewhere, and I definitely remember the feeling of not having a single freakin' clue what I was doing. Who am I kidding? I still have those moments. Just ask my senpai. And the Bacca.

"Okay, so try not to laugh too much. You know how you said most of yours and Mitch's subs aren't in the main gaming scene? I was thinking of toning the gangsta-ness down a little and going for something more... parent-friendly, I guess?"

"Mr. Goody-Goody over here. Sounds like you're gonna pull a Rob on me."

"Oh no, Kappa. I'm still gonna have my job until I can make it by without the paycheck." He pauses and waits for me to stop laughing and I can hear him chugging on a can of Fresca to calm his nerves. He taps his empty can down on the desk a couple times and I hear it clang against a bunch of other empty cans when he throws it in his special little pop trash can. That thing's gotta be like a biohazard container. How can anyone live in the same room as that nasty pop, let alone chug it like Vince does? Is this guy human? "Are you ready to hear the story of the Almighty Kweh?"

"Plz bby. I very fan."

"Okay, here goes." He pauses and takes a deep breath before he starts. "There was once a little boy who loved to spend every day at the playground. Morning, afternoon, evening, it didn't matter. Any time was perfect. He would wait all day for his mother to take him to the park so he could zoom down the fire pole and tumble from the monkey bars like it ain't nobody's business. But his favorite thing of all was the swing. He loved it so much, he even dreamed about it. The swing set was so big the top bar was as tall as the house next to the park, and the air made his eyes tear up when he rocketed up to the very top. Everyone else was too scared to try it because they were afraid they'd fall off and break their legs, and so were their parents. But the little boy didn't care. He could zoom through the sky like a superhero and soar freely like a bird; he could feel the wind in his hair and the weightlessness of the empty air; he could feel alive like only a child with an overactive imagination can. At long last, he could fly.

"One day at school, the scariest thing imaginable happened to the little boy: he couldn't breathe. He choked and he sputtered and he cried and he heaved, but nothing helped. The teachers didn't know what to do. The last thing he saw was the nurse running towards him with a wheelchair, then everything went black. He woke up a couple hours later in the emergency room with a big clear bag strapped over his face and his mother sitting in a chair next to his bed, squeezing his hand and crying her eyes out. He'd had breathing problems in the past, but never like this; he had never stopped breathing before. It turned out that the boy had developed acute asthma and he'd had a bad attack after he'd inhaled one of the teachers' perfumes. After that, he had to have regular breathing treatments and use an emergency inhaler, but no matter what the doctors did, it seemed like the attacks got worse and happened more often. Unfortunately, even the fear of not being able to breathe couldn't compare to the fear of going back to school the day after an attack. To keep him from repeating second grade from all the missed school days and to put an end to all the bullying from his classmates, the little boy's mother took him out of public school and decided to homeschool him. She just wanted to keep him safe.

"Even though this solved a lot of his social and health problems, it led to a lot of new problems, too. His mother had to work two jobs with full days every week to make ends meet and keep their house, so the little boy spent a lot of time alone at home. He couldn't go outside or have friends over to visit in case a scent or a game caused an attack, so he got very lonely. To make the long hours pass more quickly, his mother bought him an old Nintendo Entertainment System on eBay and it came with an epic ton of classic games, including the original Final Fantasy series.

"Even though he couldn't run or climb or swing like he used to, now he could live vicariously through the strong, brave, loveable heroes in the games. He could be anyone and do anything, and nothing could stop him. But his favorite character wasn't really much of a character at all: he loved the Chocobos. He could jump on good ol' Choco the Chocobo and he could take him on an adventure anywhere: running through forests, jumping over rivers, climbing up mountains, flying over canyons, fighting in wars, you name it. Finally, the little boy could fly again."

We sit in silence for a few seconds as his story sinks in and he waits for my reaction. I guess he's never told anyone this before. Is that why he hates to leave the house? Is he still afraid he's gonna have a major asthma attack, or did he grow out of it like Sam did? Even if he did, spending all that time by himself must've made it hard for him to be around people again. He did say he drove himself all the way from Los Angeles to Seattle and back with a trunk full of Fresca so he wouldn't hafta get on a plane, but I guess it didn't click until now how much he hates being around people. Maybe that's why he always got to the convention hall super early at PAX – he wanted to go to all the demos and booths before it got too busy. Then he'd run over and hide at the back of my booth all day, being my cashier and sorting through all the merch to find the stuff people wanted while I signed everything and took pictures. He'd have someone to talk to away from everyone else. If he hadn't met me, would he've just spent like an hour a day at the convention center and gone back to his hotel room until the next day? How can anyone live like that?

"You should be a writer or something. You're breakin' my heart over here, dude." I can hear him let out the breath he'd been holding and he chuckles a little. I can't believe he got so worked up over telling me that story. What'd he think I was gonna do? Hang up on him? Tease him? Record him and post it online? I might be a cactus, but I'm not a jerkwad. Knowing that he'd basically been a shut-in for like ten years, though... If I'd spent more than half my life in a dark basement room all by myself, I'd probably have a hard time talking to people, too. Seriously, who can blame the guy?

"I used to write. A lot. I wanted to write scripts for video games after I finished college."

"Why didn't you do it?"

"I tried it. I really did. It was just too much for me to handle. There were too many people in one room and I'd start having a panic attack whenever the professor called on me to answer a question. I couldn't stand seeing so many people staring at me and waiting for me to screw up. I forced myself to finish the first semester, but by then I was sitting in the back of the room by myself in every class. Everyone thought I was insane."

"They have those online universities. Couldn't you do that?"

"Most of those are scams, and the legit ones really, really expensive. I don't have the money to do that right now."

"Well, that's where the YouTubez come in. I bet you could do it if you got a couple hundred thousand subs."

"Pfft. Like that'll ever happen."

"You never know, Chocobro."

"Oh God. Is that gonna be a thing now?"

"What? 'Chocobro'? I could use 'Choco-late' if you like that better."

"Okay, we're seriously gonna have to work on that, P. I might be a lot of things, but I ain't no 'Choco-late'."

"So what're you gonna use? I'm pretty sure the name 'Chocobo' is already taken, especially if you're still thinking about gettin' into Minecraft, too."

"I'll probably try 'Choco the Chocobo'. He was the big, fluffy pet I always wanted but could never have. That bird was my childhood."

"That works. So for now I shall call thee 'Choco.' Until I can come up with a better nickname."

"Why does it feel like this is the beginning of the end for me?" he asks with a nervous laugh while I launch Modern Warfare 3 and get ready to kick some more noob butts with this... bird? Huh. Who knew I'd go to a convention and meet a giant yellow bird who plays video games? Maybe I should call him 'Big Bird.'

"Naw, dude. There's never an end in video games – now you're playing the sequel."

---------------

November 12, 2012 at 3 PM, Fort Worth, TX: Preston

"You got some 'splainin' to do, Lava P." I'm not sure why he's calling me or where he got his intel from, but the Bacca doesn't look too happy. Great, what'd I fudge up this time?

"Sure. What's up my main Bacca-Lacca?" He's leaning back in his chair with his arms hanging down the sides, swinging gently back and forth while he stares at me with his little beady brown eyes. He doesn't look evil like he used to but he still creeps me the frick out. Whatever this's for, it can't be good.

"You've been out playing super sleuth again, haven't ya? You must've come up with something real good this time, the way you're tip-toeing around and tryin' to hide him from me."

"What are you talkin' about?"

"Your new little nerd crush." I just look at him and try to figure out what he's talking about and he rolls his eyes and starts knocking on his desk. "Hello? Is there anyone in there? Who the fuck's this Chocobo guy you've been recording with?"

"Oh, Choco's nothin' to worry about. I met him at PAX and he helped me run my booth. We played a mega poop ton of COD together and I finally talked him into giving YouTube a try." Jerome isn't impressed and he looks at me like I just started burping the alphabet in a purple unicorn mask.

"You're tellin' me you met this random ass guy you'd never even talked to before and let him handle your money and gave him access to your computer? P, that's shocking even for you."

"Well, I watched him and I checked him out before I let him do anything. He's more harmless than a housefly and a tenth as annoying. Choco's just a nice guy who's really lonely. Mitch told us to find new people, so I did. You hafta give him a chance, dude." The Bacca stares at me for a few seconds and huffs before he starts typing something on his side screen.

"Fine. Take me to your little birdy friend and we'll see how harmless he really is." My Skype starts calling Choco by itself and I have a feeling this isn't gonna go in his favor. Jerome wouldn't go after someone who didn't do anything wrong, would he? Didn't he say he was just pretending to be heartless and evil? The call rings a couple times before Choco picks up, and now his webcam's turned on, too. He never uses his webcam. This isn't gonna end well. Maybe I should give him a warning.

"Hey there, Choco-Boco-Loco. Nice bedhead you got there." He pauses mid-yawn and looks at me on the screen, his eyes widening as he sees himself looking back at him at the bottom. His dark hair's all crazy and curly and he's wearing a really wrinkled GameStop t-shirt like he didn't wanna waste the time changing when he got home from work. Am I the only guy in North America who bothers to fix his hair and change his clothes regularly? Like seriously? And I thought Rob's laziness was surprising – Choco's even more uptight than him and he still dresses like a slob.

"Preston, what's going on here? Why are you calling me in the middle of the afternoon?"

"I didn't. I-"

"Hey there, nice to finally meet ya. My name's Jerome Asafa and I'll be your server tonight. What can I get you two lovebirds?" The Bacca must've appeared on Choco's screen because he looks like he saw a ghost and he's staring at him with his mouth open.

"Okay, stop right there. Are you and Nooch gonna ship me with every person I come in contact with?"

"Nah. Nothin' can beat the Poofless, P. The sooner you accept it, the better it'll be for all of us. Anyways, Choco. What's up, my man?" Poor Choco looks terrified, like someone's trying to run him over with a car. More than that, he looks hurt, like I just sold him out like a total snake and it kills me to see him so sad and scared. He doesn't deserve this.

"Jerome, why-" I start but the Bac interrupts me like he always does.

"Why does everyone always assume I just show up to melt people's skulls? Can't a Bac have a pleasant conversation with his new friend without someone breakin' out the pitchforks? Je-sus." Jerome raises his eyebrows in mock offense and huffs with an unreadable smile. What's this guy after now?

"F-friend?" The Bacca bobs his head slowly in a dramatic nod, his dark eyes reading something on the side screen. "But we just met thirty seconds ago. What did I do wrong?" Choco looks so nervous he might hurl. Why do I always have to mess everything up for everyone?

"I didn't realize there was a time limit before I could be somebody's friend. Where can I find an application? I should fill it out while I wait in line." I don't know if Choco can handle this. He wasn't prepared to deal with a Bacca today, not like preparing yourself does any good. He still creeps me out two years later. "Looks like you're clean. You've got some real interesting stuff on your computer."

"I-I what?" Okay, so he's officially having a meltdown now. His face's bright red and he looks like he's about to have steam coming out of his ears. I hafta do something before he loses it.

"Was there a reason to break into his computer, or are you just here to terrorize the poor guy? Back off, dude." Jerome makes a pouty face and crosses his arms over his chest like a kid who just got told to clean his room.

"I see Rob let you have one of his balls for the weekend. You two gotta work on setting up a better custody schedule. No matter where I look, one of you's running at half-steam." I glare at him and he grins at the look on my face and turns back to Choco. "Nah, I'm just here to talk some business. I'm a business Bacca, after all. Just so happens we've been lookin' for someone to fill a new position on our team and what can I say? I have a weak spot for little lost puppies. Look at these other wrecks I've gotta put up with. Between Rob, Mitch, and Vikk, you'd think I was runnin' a low-cost nuthouse over here."

"W-what do you want from me?" It looks like it's taking every last ounce of courage for Choco to keep talking. I mean, before you get to know him, the Bacca's a pretty scary guy. He's still pretty intimidating even after you get to know him. Everyone knows he led the defense in the Great War of 2012 and put most of the nails in Dawn's coffin, and that's just one of the more recent things he's done. He's got a reputation the size of Mount Everest, and even epic nerds who live under rocks and don't game know who JeromeASF is. A couple years and a new username can't erase the legacy of the infamous Hacksource.

"I just wanna offer you a deal real quick. Ya know, being a denizen of the Deep Web and all, I don't like the sunlight too much. Can't spend too much time aboveground or my fur starts fallin' out by the handful."

"How can I help you?" The poor Chocobo looks like just wants to turn around and hide under his bed with his collection of empty Fresca cans. Even his brave face doesn't look brave, and he keeps looking over at me like he thinks I can help him. I'm outta my element here.

"I see you spend... wow, a shit ton of time online. You could prob'ly get a job with the FBI with those search skills of yours. And you're on every social media website ever made."

"I like to keep up with what's happening in the world. It's kinda hard to do that without the internet and social media." He isn't talking as quiet as he was a second ago. Is the caged bird gonna try to sing now?

"Hey, nothin' wrong with watching the news. Would you say you're a social media expert? Can you feel your way around in the dark, sketchy corners of the interwebs and come up with some gold?"

"I wouldn't say I'm an expert... I'm competent."

"How about Twitter? Facebook? Tumblr? Fan Fiction Dot Net? YouTube? All that jizz?"

"I'm a reader, not a poster; I spend my life lurking and grinding levels. I've been crawling around some of these sites since they launched."

"So you've seen some crazy shit behind the scenes. You're the wise one. The watcher on the wall. Our one true king. You've seen it all. So tell me: on the internet..." Jerome waves his hands in a circle like he's waiting for Choco to finish his sentence. Why do I magically get lost whenever the Bac starts talking?

"Nobody knows you're a dog?"

"Exactly. You're hired." Wait, so now we're on The Apprentice? What the frick.

"What?" Apparently Choco's lost, too.

"You're hired. You passed the background check and we just did the interview. You're our new media consultant. How much do you make at GameFlop?" Jerome points at Choco's shirt, and he looks down at it dorkily like he forgot he was wearing it.

"Uh... Seven bucks an hour, thirty hours a week. That's the best I could do."

"No shame in tryin' to make a decent, honest living in a suck ass economy. But there're more important things in life. Like bacon." The Bacca grabs his phone and starts typing something in, nodding as he looks at the little screen in his pitch black office. He looks back up at the middle computer monitor and he's smiling like he just won a game. "You can quit that job now. Don't bother goin' in tonight."

"Wait, what? What're you planning to do to me?"

"I'm promoting you. We'll start ya out with twelve-hundred a month on salary, paid by the week on PayPal with the software included. It's an around-the-clock gig with open hours and occasional insane work periods when things fall to shit. But you're responsible for watching everything that's said about all of us at all hours of the day and night on the entire internet, so keep your eyes peeled and your feathers ruffled."

"So he's like your UAV?" I ask as it finally hits me what he's trying to do: against all odds, he's gonna help Choco. The Bac's really just a big softie. With sharp teeth. And dagger claws. And evil little eyes. And Betty. Okay, maybe he's not cuddly, but he's a nice guy deep down under all that hair and parmesan deodorant. And maybe a little rabies.

"Somethin' like that. As much as I hate to admit it, Baccas only have three eyes. I can't watch everything all the time and expect to get enough sleep to not go around rippin' people's heads off with chopsticks. With me, the Benj, Woof, Nooch, and your stanky ass, it was already pretty hard to juggle everything. But now with Batman and Ickle Vikky-kins and this Chocobo of yours and whoever else Mitch's herding into his newest gigantic mess, it fuckin' sucks Chicken McNuggets. So whaddaya say? Is bird the word?"

"You want me to help you? B-but how am I supposed to help you? I'm just... I'm just me. I'm not good at anything that could help you."

"But we're askin' you, aren't we? Come on, Choco! This's what you've always been waiting for! You can quit your sucky job and move outta your mom's basement and be your own man! Even if YouTube doesn't work out, you'd still be doin' a heck of a lot better than you are now. What do ya have to lose?"

"I don't know, G. It's just so much so fast. I don't-"

"Have I ever steered you wrong, ya bird brain? And the Bac's never steered me wrong. You'd get paid for doin' what you do, anyways. Do you really wanna go spend another night by yourself in a dark video game store that smells like stale popcorn and burnt rubber?" He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands for a few seconds before he gets up and walks right outta the room. Jerome frowns and we both sit and watch a light turn on in a little room next to Choco's bedroom. What's he doing? Is he in there crying or something?

"Is he always this stressed out?" Jerome asks as we keep watching the little yellow light streaming into the dark room on the screen. What's taking him so long? Did the Bacca literally scare the crap outta him, or what?

"Pretty much. It's kinda scary, being a bird." Jerome snorts and grabs a Monster and pops the can open so he can get a couple chugs in. If Choco takes this job, I swear those two'll be the best frickin' friends ever. They can stay up all night talkin' about lame memes and bad videos and carbonated drinks.

"You'd better tell Rob about that job opening at GameFlop. If he sends his resumé in today, he might actually have a chance." Finally, the light turns off and Choco hurries back into the room wearing a worn-out Final Fantasy t-shirt, a big smile on his face while his GameStop shirt hangs limply in his hand.

"I'm in, boys." He picks up his Fresca trashcan and tosses his work shirt in for us to see and the Bacca and I both start clapping like idiots. "Where do I sign?"