Persona: Platinum Hearts

Chapter 1: Talent Acquisition

Reality is like a pistol whip straight to the jaw.

It slaps the shit out of you and leaves a mark and does so without a second thought. Well, to be accurate, it doesn't even think for itself in the first place. It simply moves according to those who operate it. Just like a pistol. That's why daydreamers don't make it in this world. You see, if you stargaze while a pimp lord stares you down, cigar in mouth, sex worker in one hand, pistol in the other, you'll guarantee yourself a pistol to the face, leaving that drug house feeling hurt and feeble and defiled and disrespected and lost, stuck wondering, "holy shit, was that real?" And it's only when you go to the doctors office, sit in that ominous room with the daycare poster asking you how bad your boo-boo is and the doctor comes out with his fancy lab coat on and his pretentious little clipboard and tells you that you've got a shattered jaw and internal bleeding that you'll finally think, "Holy shit. This is real."

All of that to say, those who are decent accept reality.

Those who are exceptional act based on reality.

And those who are special change reality.

But, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Let's start with decency - with acceptance.

First off, accept that Sam is a talking black squirrel that roams around Michigan State's campus in search of youth with potential. And accept that he decided to approach and speak to Marshall Smith.

Sam was waiting for Marshall in his bedroom on the second floor of Snyder hall. He saw Marshall leave the room that morning with the window open and thought to himself that this was his chance. He considered approaching Marshall before he left but decided against it. Sam didn't want to hear any excuses like "I can't talk right now, I've got class." Just for him to go to said class, sit there, and not listen to a damn word that comes out the professors knowledgeable mouth because he can only think about the squirrel that hopped in his room and talked to him as if he were in the next hit Disney movie, and finally decide that when he gets back he'll simply tell said squirrel to go kick acorns because he doesn't want shit to do with him.

Not to say Sam thought Marshall was that kind of guy, but up until now, all he had done was observe. He couldn't be certain about Marshall until they talked, and when they talked, Sam had to guarantee that they'd actually talk.

When Marshall got back to his room, he was even tempered as usual, but his face was bright for no particular reason - that's just how he was. He wore blue jeans and a grey polo zip-up. His brown hair was messy yet clearly taken care of, a couple strands falling in front of his face.

"Hello, Marshall." Sam said with crossed arms, a serious face, and a white and black bandana wrapped around his forehead like a headband.

Marshall didn't speak at first, he just processed the situation. Stared at Sam devoid of expression. He glanced back at his door, as though someone was going to hop out with a camera and yell "Gotcha!"

But there was no such person, no such cameras, no such pranks.

Finally, Marshall spoke. "Are you real?"

Sam let out a disappointed sigh and shook his head while staring down at the ground.

"You're gonna have to do better than that, Marshall Ruben Smith," Sam said. "Unless you're schizophrenic, then this certainly is real, right? Please don't waste my time with these fruitless questions. And don't go pinching your cheeks asking yourself if this is a dream either. Do that and I walk."

Marshall looked at him with an expressionless stare once again, then scratched his head.

"Okay...well, how can you speak?" Marshall asked.