Blood poured from a devastating wound in Jonathan’s side. He knew he didn’t
have much time left. The serpent creature was closing in fast, its jaws opening to reveal
multiple rows of incisors inside. Jonathan only had a few seconds left to make his move.
Breathlessly, he dodged to the left of his foe and swung his sword to the right. The
creature’s massive head blew past, and the sword made contact with its neck. The metal
blade sliced the serpent’s scaly skin, leaving a deep gash. The monster let out a terrible
cry then fell to the cave floor with seismic thud that shook stalactites from the ceiling.
Jonathan looked up to see a particularly large stone icicle heading directly for him. With
all of the strength he could muster, Jonathan sprinted from the dragon’s corpse towards
the cave entrance. More and more rocks fell in the boy’s path as the pinpoint of light
slowly grew into a dime, then a golf ball, then a huge star, and then overwhelming light
as Jonathan reached the outside world. He was just in time, too, as the cave had
collapsed, leaving a pile of rubble where the dragon’s lair had been. Jonathan took in the
sights: The lush, green trees, the clear, blue sky, and the sun. Oh how it was good to see
the sun again! But Jonathan had only a moment to revel in his success, and the whole
world faded white.
“Wow, that was hard,” said Jonathan, throwing his controller on the sofa
beside him. He walked up to his Playstation and ejected the “Dungeon Adventure” disk.
Putting the game in its case, Jonathan put the game with all of the other games he had
beaten, which were all his other games. He had beaten the entire Halo series, breezed
through Call of Duty, and thought Minecraft was unbelievably boring. Now he had
another game to add to his “trophy case,” if one may choose to call it that. Jonathan
walked out into the main room of his family’s apartment, where his mother was
preparing dinner. “Why, hello, sweetie,” she said kindly.
“Hey,” Jonathan said. “Can we go to the game store tomorrow?”
“Oh, I don’t know, honey,” His mother said. “We’re awfully busy.”
“Please?”
“Oh… Alright, we can go, but we can’t spend all day looking for a game!”
“Yes, mom,” Will replied sarcastically as he walked back to his room. Jonathan flopped onto his bed. It seemed as if he’d never have a good challenge again.
***
At the GameStop, Jonathan looked at all of the new releases for PlayStation and PC, and, seeing nothing interesting, looked at the used games. A few looked interesting, but he couldn’t decide on one. Besides, Jonathan had beaten most of these, so he walked up to the counter and asked the clerk, “I’m looking for something challenging. Got any ideas?”
The freckled, glasses-wearing kid looked back at him. “Uh, yeah. What do you
have in mind?”
“You see,” Will started, “I’ve beaten pretty much all of the big-name releases.
Halo, Call of Duty, et cetera, but I want something harder than that to play. Any ideas?”
The clerk thought for a moment, bent down behind the counter, and pulled out a
case. “This here isn’t supposed to be on the shelves, so I technically shouldn’t be giving
it to you, but the developer forums say it’s really fun.”
Jonathan looked at the package. “Robbers” was plastered across the top,
while a heroic policeman stood proud and tall in front of it. The case bore the slogan, “Stop the
crime before it stops the city!” The boy looked at the clerk and said, “This… This game
is hard?”
The clerk shoved his glasses up his nose and said, “Don’t judge a game by it’s
case. Why would the forums lie?”
Jonathan looked at the game, the back to the clerk. “Whatever. I’ll try it. But I
want a full refund if I beat it in a day.”
“Suit yourself,” the clerk said as he scanned and bagged the game.
***
“Alright, time to see what all this fuss is about,” Jonathan said, taking the disc
out of the case and popping it into the Playstation. The screen lit up and revealed the
menu screen, which showed bird’s-eye views of what appeared to be 1940’s Chicago in
sepia tone. Propaganda-style lettering marked each of the player’s options, “New Game,”
“Settings,” “Credits,” and “Extras.” Selecting “New Game,” Jonathan watched as the
game loaded into a street view of the city he had just been watching. He was in an alley
with one other person. “I get it,” Jonathan said. “If it’s 1940’s Chicago, there’s gotta
be crime involved.” He looked around the alley, behind the overflowing dumpsters and
garbage bags littered throughout the dark, narrow space. Suddenly, Jonathan heard shouts
and a volley of gunshots behind him. A squat figure with a mustache came running into the alleyway
gripping his upper arm. “Hey! Are you okay?” Jonathan asked, concerned.
The man pulled out a small pistol with his good arm and aimed it at Jonathan’s
face. “Don’t,” he said. He kept the gun steadily aimed at Jonathan’s face. Suddenly, a
flicker of recognition went across his face. “Oh, it’s you. The North Side Gang’s trying to
steal some money! C’mon, we gotta stop them!”
The man dashed off with Jonathan running behind. They ran into the fray, guns
primed. The men shot at practically everything and everyone. Among the shots were
cries of pain abruptly cut short as the bodies fell to the ground. His eyes and throat
stinging from the smoke, Jonathan lowered his gun. As the smoke started to clear, they
saw two North Side members standing, horrified, among their fallen comrades. One of
them dropped the money, then they both dashed off. Jonathan ran to collect the bag the
gangster had dropped. Inside of it, several stacks of $100 bills laid, obviously stolen.
Jonathan heard sirens from a distance, and his partner bolted from the scene. Well,
that was odd, he thought. I’d better return this to the nearest bank. Not thinking to wait
for the police to arrive, Jonathan ran for the bank. It was a couple blocks’ run, but he
soon made it. He stopped a few paces short. You know, I really deserve a reward for this
deed, thought Jonathan. He slipped open the sack of bills and removed a couple stacks
of them, stuffed them into his pockets, and sealed the bag again. Then he walked into the
bank to return the money. “Thanks, Al,” the cashier said.
The next day, Jonathan walked along the street, taking in all the sights and
thinking, Wow, this game isn’t really hard, but it’s a nice game. All around him, the
graphics were incredibly realistic and the chatter of people and the growling of cars made
the whole scene come alive. He spotted several similarly dressed men standing outside a
small diner. They all smiled and waved at him. Out of politeness, he waved back, even
though he had never seen these people before in his life. Jonathan rounded a street corner
and ran into his partner. His arm had been badly bandaged and treated since the shootout. “Hey,” Jonathan started, but trailed off after he realized he didn’t know his partner’s name.

“What’s up?” The man said gruffly.

“Yesterday was pretty crazy, wasn’t it?” Jonathan offered, hoping to strike up a conversation.

“No, not really. This kind of stuff happens all the time,” the man replied.

“Wow, really?”

“Yeah. Come on and I’ll tell you about it.”

The man led him to a small diner that looked all but deserted. He opened the door and motioned Jonathan to come inside. As the two walked in, Jonathan noticed a door in the kitchen that was slightly ajar. His partner opened it and let Jonathan in, closing the door behind them both. The descended a flight of stairs into what appeared to be a small tavern. “Welcome to your first speakeasy, Al,” Jonathan’s companion said.

Wait, what? Jonathan thought. A speakeasy? These places are illegal. Why are we here?

Jonathan walked around the place while his partner ordered drinks. A couple of people, obviously a little tipsy, smiled broadly and waved. Jonathan just looked uncomfortable until his partner came back with two drinks. Jonathan accepted one, and just as he about to take a sip, a clatter came from the entrance to the tavern. A couple of uniformed cops ran down the short flight of steps and said, “Joint’s busted. Everybody out!”

The crowd in the bar scattered, and Jonathan started to do the same, but his partner held him back. “Wait, Al,” he said. The two cops stared back at the two remaining customers. “You there!” One said as he pointed to Jonathan. “Were you at that shooting yesterday? On Elm Street?”

“I-” Jonathan stuttered.

“We want you to come down to the station with us and answer some questions,” the cop said.

Ugh, the station? That could take all night, Jonathan thought with a grimace. He didn’t want to go through all that. However, it would be the right thing. The policeman’s words bounced back and forth in his head until he reached a conclusion. “Um… I… don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jonathan said. He turned quickly and bolted out the back entrance to the speakeasy, knocking down a few bottles of liquor as he left. I can’t believe I did that, Jonathan thought. I should go back… No. I can’t. I already look suspicious. He ran around a corner and found a motel. Using a little of the money from yesterday, he bought a room and went inside. He tottered for a moment, then collapsed on the bed.

Not much happened for a few days. He had barely gone out of the room to eat. He relived the events of the previous two days and how he could have chosen differently. I bought a hotel room with someone else’s money. They should have this room, not me, Jonathan thought over and over again. I should’ve come with the police. Maybe I can go to the last save point. Then, realizing he hadn’t logged the events, Jonathan saved the game and continued.

After about two more days, a knock on his door woke him at about noon. He stumbled over to the door, half-asleep, and opened it. The two policemen from the speakeasy were standing outside. “We have your accomplice in custody,” one said.” He’s been charged with theft and the sale of illegal alcohol. We need you to come down to the police station to answer some questions.”

“What? I…” Jonathan trailed off as the policeman brought him to their vehicle. Jonathan was in a frenzy. His partner had been accused for theft and use and sale of alcohol? As far as Jonathan knew, the man hadn’t committed a crime in his life. His anxiety peaked right as they pulled up to the police station. Inside, the convicted man sat in a holding cell. He gave Jonathan a look that could make a child cry. “You left and sold me out!” He cried, gripping the bars of the cell.

“Quiet,” the policeman who had remained quiet said with a voice with such authority that the man let go of the bars and sat down. “Have a seat,” the man motioned to Jonathan to sit. “Now, we need some information. In the bag of money stolen from the bank, there was allegedly 5,000 dollars, and it was stolen by a very short man with a mustache. When the money was returned, there was 4,700 dollars left, and it was returned by someone whose description fits your mug perfectly.”
Jonathan froze. How had they found out?
“We tracked you to the speakeasy in the old diner and found out some of the money had been used at a nearby hotel after you ran off,” the policeman continued. “Now, you have a choice. Either you hand over the money and both of you spend one night in prison, or you and your friend are locked up for a mighty long time in Alcatraz. Choose wisely.”
Jonathan’s mind raced. If I return the money, My friend can go free. But this is the only money I have. What if I need food later on? Surely the tavern or the shootout would have been in the news. No one would want me as an employee. Jonathan couldn’t handle the pressure. His vision darkened, then faded to black. Suddenly, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, his hands gripping the controller for his Playstation. He looked around his room. He was no longer in the horrible police station, with the cops staring him down and his partner glowering at him. Then it dawned on him. All the time, people in the game were calling him “Al.” Jonathan realized that this was no ordinary name.
It was the name of Al Capone.