Prologue

The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and Bill was totally happy. That wasn't much of a surprise to anyone who know him. Bill was usually happy. It was how he rolled. Most people who met him for the first time simply tended to assume he was stoned. As did all of his friends. And his parents. And his mailman. But it wasn't that, though. Bill was the sort who just went along in a perpetual state of bliss. To him, life was sweet, the days were young, and the road ahead was obstacle-free and open to infinite possibilities. He still had a lust for life that most people grew out of when they stopped watching Sesame Street and he knew that there was at least one adventure waiting for him in life.

Bill was, of course, also something of a dumbass.

Regardless, he was firmly in this state of mind as he barreled down an empty, country road, banging his head to a killer tune on the radio. So enthralled by this song was he, that he almost missed the mysterious man standing by the road. Almost.

Most people (those more aware than Bill) would have seen this man right off the bat. Perhaps it was because he was the only person standing by the road for at least twenty miles. Perhaps it was because he was clad from head to toe in black leather, in spite of the sun shining at full power. Or perhaps it was the bizarrely anachronistic look he pulled off, with the hippest pair of shades one could imagine blocking his eyes from view, while there was a simple walking stick clutched in his hand.

Bill did notice this man, but he did not continue on down the road as most people (those with better self-preservation instincts than Bill) would have done. Instead, he pulled off on the side of the road, rolled down the window, and poked his head out. "Hey buddy! Need a lift?" he called over.

The man looked Bill's car over as if he was driving gutted roadkill. (Bill did not know how such a feat would be possible, but he was sure someone could manage. After all, it was only a matter of science). "In this?" the man asked, poking the right-front tire with his walking stick, looking at it as if it had insulted his mother.

For the briefest moment, Bill felt his good humor ebb. Sure his car wasn't expensive or fancy, but he paid for it through honest work and not robbing hookers, like most of his friends did. Still, he swallowed any indignation he felt. Surely this man was just irritated from the long walk he'd undoubtedly had. The black leather probably wasn't helping either. Bill wasn't entirely sure what someone suffering from sun stroke acted like, but he was pretty sure that grumpiness was one of the symptoms. "Yeah, unless you could pull a plane out of your pocket," replied Bill. The thought of that happening made him crack up. "'Cause if you could, that'd be awesome," he added.

The man sighed and most people (those who weren't blinded by rose-colored glasses, as Bill was) would have guessed that he was rolling his eyes under the sunglasses. Without saying a word, he opened the door and took a seat next to Bill.

"I really dig your get-up, man," said Bill, getting an up-close look at the stranger for the first time. "It's very Matrix meets Matrix Reloaded." More than that though, Bill noted how the outfit was in great shape, considering the guy had almost certainly been walking for some time. No dust, no dirt, no stains in the armpits. It was snazzy and if Bill was a little more secure in his masculinity, he would have admitted to himself that the ensemble was rather hot.

The man remained silent as Bill looked him over. Bill cleared his throat. It wasn't often that he met someone who didn't talk at all. "Yeah, the Matrix. You ever see those movies?"

No response. The man stared straight ahead.

Bill grinned. What the hell, the dude was probably shy. "That's beautiful, man. So, where you headed?"

"Chicago," said the man, doing an impressive job of keeping inflection and emotion out of his voice.

Bill didn't care. He was over the moon that his unexpected guest was talking. "Chicago! The Windy City!" he shouted with joy. "That shouldn't be too far out of the way! Let me just program this into my GPS." He snatched it off of the dashboard and began to fiddle with it. One would think that after using it for three years, one would get the hang of it. "Get this bloody thing to work."

As Bill fiddled with the GPS, he became aware of the man glancing at the various electronic devices in the car. The radio. The cell phone being recharged. The DVD player and TV. As his eyes passed over each one, his expression became increasingly pissed. If Bill didn't know better, he'd have thought they were personally offending him.

The GPS began running some information across the screen, getting Bill's undivided attention again. " According to this, it should be... 2000 miles," he muttered. "No, that can't be right. Let me just fix this. No, I don't want to go to Lake Okeechobee. You know, my mom always said only so many times a man can drive into a lake. Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me five times, shame on the GPS. Awesome! I think I got it!" He looked up and was surprised to see the man staring intently at him. The dude must be more impatient to get going than he let on. "So what part of Chicago are you going to?" Bill asked

The man did not answer. He turned his attention to the GPS, his lip curling. "You're using that?" he asked.

"Well, yeah."

"Don't use that." The man didn't raise his voice, but there was a definite icy edge to it.

"Why not?" asked Bill, furrowing his brow. The guy was starting to creep him out.

"Just, don't."

"Dude," said Bill, "I get everywhere with this thing. I'd be totally lost without it."

The man stared at Bill. For the first time, Bill wished the dude wasn't wearing those sunglasses. They were creeping him out. "It's bad enough you have to imprison yourself in this technological deathtrap," the man said. "But now you sacrifice your own sense of direction? Your intuition?" As he spoke, each word came out faster and faster. "Your own means of travel is determined by wires, electric highways. Circuits to destruction. You make no decisions for yourself. You hand over everything to these mechanical wonders." His words were now weighed down by an intensity that most people (those smarter than Bill) would find unnerving. Even Bill shivered. "And for all their digital prestidigitation, you become no smarter for it," the man continued. "You enter this world empty, and you will leave this world... empty.

Bill blinked. "Dude, did I say something wrong or...?"

"What do you think of the 21st century, mister...?

"Bill."

"Bill. What do you think of the 21st century, Bill?"

Bill scratched his head. "Well, it's alright. I mean, like, Gaga's a little weird and all, but I think it's pretty solid."

The man stared at Bill with a level of intensity that not even his rocking sunglasses could conceal. "You enjoy it?"

"Yeah," said Bill

Would you swear by it?" the man asked.

"Sure," said Bill, not quite sure what he was getting at.

"Would you give up everything you own for it?"

Bill shook his head. "That doesn't make much sense. Everything I own's in the 21st century, man."

"No. No it isn't." The tiniest of smiles danced on the man's lips. "There's one other thing you own the that 21st century hasn't given you. And it can be taken away. Very, very easily. Do you want it taken away... Bill?"

Bill laughed, as he suddenly figured out what the guy's deal was. "Dude, what are you on? 'Cause I totally want some."

The man's smile widened as he murmured a few nonsensical words. Yeah, dude was stoned out of his gourd. Bill totally called i-

There was a bang followed by a sick splatter. The inside of windshield and the driver's window became coated with the blood, skull fragments, and brains of the motorist formerly known as Bill. The man indulged in an even wider smile as he watched the idiot's body fall sideways and get wedged between the car door and the steering wheel. It was worth it, even though he knew what was coming.

As he exited the car, the man stumbled. He planted his walking stick and leaned against it as a wave of nausea and dizziness hit him. He didn't let it bother him though. Soon, that problem would be sorted.

The man began walking down the road. As he set off, he muttered a few more words. He clenched his teeth as pain spiked through his head almost immediately after. It was coming stronger and faster now. But again, he regretted nothing.

Behind him, Bill's car caught fire and exploded. The man paused for a moment to admire the sight. It pleased him to know that such a wasteful, clumsy thing was taken care of. But he reminded himself that he couldn't dwaddle for such pleasurable pastimes. He had to reach Chicago as quickly as possible.

The game was afoot.

So...hi! As the title says, I'm trying my hand at writing a novelization for the third anniversary event for Channel Awesome, Suburban Knights. If you've seen it, I hope I keep this fun for everyone! If you haven't seen it, go watch it now!

Disclaimers - I do not own any of the reviewers who are in this fanfiction. They all belong to their respective selves. I do not own the plot of Suburban Knights. That belongs to the crew of Channel Awesome.

This fanfiction will be rated T, for swearing and violent situations.

Finally, this fanfiction was inspired by Xoanon and his fantastic novelization of the second anniversary event Channel Awesome did, you have not read that, I highly recommend it.

The best! - ZQ