A/N: This is a humorous story that isiptea and I are working on together, based off of a concept called 'units'- manufactured versions of different characters. The idea behind units is not mine. Isiptea and I will be alternating between chapters.
Please excuse the stereotypical, somewhat cheesy nature in my chapters. I just enjoy writing this in that particular way. Also, my apologies for lateness.
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My fingers flit over the keyboard, tapping away at another search for fan art, something which was a rather common occurrence when my host family was off doing something- which was quite often. I had been brought to California on a student exchange of sorts, and hadn't made too many friends; but being somewhat reserved will accomplish that, I digress.
After what seemed like, and probably was, hours on the computer, my email inbox flashes at me. Slightly intrigued, I open the message to find an unusual notice. I skim the text and find out that I have been selected to test a new 'Homestuck based product' that has been 'guaranteed to bring about a new level of drama in the household'. My currently blue gaze, hidden behind my seldom worn glasses, grows more and more confused by the moment. According to this, my 'Homestuck Units' will begin arriving in seven days- just as summer vacation starts. A smile graces my lips and I shut off the computer, deciding to tell Ethel soon enough.
-Seven Days Later-
I sit on the lightly coloured couch, nursing a bruised ankle in begrudging acceptance of my clumsiness. I was basically a walking collection of cuts, scrapes, and bruises from stupid things such as falling down a driveway for instance. Once again, my host parents were off for a couple of weeks for some sort of business excursion. I had hoped to start drawing again, but a knock from the door moved that to the side for a moment. I shuffled over to the door, honestly intrigued at what it could be.
Upon opening the beige oak door, I came across a delivery man whom promptly handed me a waiver and tipped his hat in greeting. Casual small talk filled the space as I passed back the white parchment and the young brunette waved in an older looking man, whose current task was apparently to wheel in three decent sized crates.
To be quite honest, it was a rather nice surprise, and I found myself waving good bye to the red and yellow clad delivery men with a tad bit more spirit than I usually possessed in my lazy ways. Apparently I was in a good mood!
My height reaching a pique in interest, I dashed over to the boxes. Each was pretty thick, sturdy and presumably difficult to open. My now green gaze, unveiled from glasses and coated with contacts, scrutinized the boxes with an extreme curiosity. However, despite my frequent attempts, I couldn't open the crates. All I ended up accomplishing was covering my pale fingers with various scratches and slivers. Huffing, I blew some stray blonde hair out of my face, and retrieved seven band-aids to distribute among my fingers, naturally choosing exceptionally colourful patterns, before deciding to call someone who always had good ideas!
My arrival in America was rather dull- I spent the majority of my time at home trying to either program computers, draw, or do something equally isolated and therefore I was considered rather anti-social. It didn't help that at school, I was a rather odd duck, and often pushed people away. Luckily for me, there was someone who, in my opinion, enjoyed being around me! Oblivious to the dull thumping now emanating from crate number three, I skipped over to the phone and dialed the vintage dial-up phone, classic black on the white counter top.
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ri-
"Hello?"
"Bonjour!"
"Oh, hello Hannah. How are you?"
"I'm good, I just-" thump!
I turn my head, suspicious of the sudden noise from behind me. All three crates, side by side in the living room, seem fine. My focus turns back to my friend over the phone.
"Hannah? Is everything alright?"
"Yes, of course! You see, my host parents are away again, and I got these crates-"
"Where in the world did you get crates?"
"Some nice men gave them to me this morning!"
"I cannot believe you are left alone for so long. What are in those crates?"
"That's just the thing, I don't-" thump.
This time, the thump is accompanied by the sound of something hitting the hardwood. I look behind me, and one of the crates has been busted open, one of the boards now lying on the floor. Through the corner of my eye, I can almost swear that something moved into the hallway going upstairs.
"Um, I think I'll grab a weapon and hide in my room."
"Hannah! Do not hang up on-"