A/N: Before we start, I would just like to thank Spyzee for all his help. Hes a pretty awesome guy.
Chapter 1.
The sun's setting rays shone upon a small suburban neighborhood in eastern Canada. The frigid tinge of autumn was already in the air during these last days of summer. The dying light cast long shadows in-between the rows of beige, monotonously identical, two story houses.
In one house in particular, a young man stands. This is august fifteenth, his birthday. His thirteenth birthday, in fact. This young child's name is Chester Dunwich, and he is sick and tired of waiting. He has been watching his mailbox for almost an hour, in anticipation of the sburb beta... and has finally abandoned hope of it arriving today. Lousy Ontario postal service...
The young fellow in question, is dressed quite well for the Ontario winter. He dons a boot-length tan coat with a gray toque (hat, for non-Canadians) and white sneakers. He has medium length brown hair, and calculating blue eyes, centered closely to a small nose and a rounded jaw.
Leaving the window, the young lad inspects his room in abject boredom. Posters of various video games adorn one wall, including one for the new WarSlammer 30,000 game... mmmm... those glorious spess rangers with their lazer guns and power armor... what he wouldn't give for... WAIT, never mind, gonna end that train of thought right there... moving on.
His eyes fall across his bed, tucked to one side of the room, big poofy dark blue blanket... wooden bed frame, nothing out of the ordinary. There is, obviously, his computer desk, with his big comfy, soft leather stool and his state-of-the art desktop. Paid for with all his own money, mind you, not like his rich Grandpappy could have covered some of it... cheap old bastard... Well, he was trying to teach Chester work ethics and stuff, but still, Grandpappy didn't amass a fortune by actually spending any of his money. Anyway, lastly, there was his glass display case which housed his painstakingly hand-painted and assembled WarSlammer miniatures. Including the prized centerpiece of his army; Lord Captain Boreall, while by all accounts an insane, delusional, schizophrenic, kleptomaniacal, lunatic, the good captain was also an excellent commander of the spess rangers with courage in battle and the most brilliant tactical mind. The lad was very proud of the almost thirty hours of work that had been put into modeling and painting the vaunted tactical genius...yeah, Chester got beat up a lot.
Needless to say, Chester fancied himself to be a strategist and a commander...though he had never actually led anything outside an RTS, and was cripplingly shy around anyone other than the only two people on the planet he considered "friends". Both of whom he had never actually met and only talked with online... Speaking of which, it seems that Chris, alternatively known as incorporealCritisist was pestering him via pesterchum.
But who cares, he can wait. We're not done discussing Chester yet.
Lastly, Chester was tutored by his millionaire grandpappy in the art of business and investing. Chester considered himself a genius of finances and the markets, and he kind of was, and kind of made a lot of money on the stock exchange...until the markets tanked and he lost almost everything he made in the first place... oh well, nothing was really lost as he still had his original investment.
Anyway, deciding that Chris was kept waiting long enough, Chester sat at his luxuriously soft and cushy chair and checked his pesterchum with a few precise mouse clicks.
-incoporealCriticist [IC]began pestering InquisitoralLogician [IL]-
IC: ...hey?
IC: youthere?
IC: ?
IC: chester?
IL: Yes. What is it? How many times have I told you not to spam my chat log...
IL: I'm disappointed in you...
IC: *gasp* yourwords wound me goodsir... :(
IC: have youatleast got the betayet? I still dont haveit yet
IL: No. Stupid Canadian mail system. Though, I am surprised to hear that you don't have it yet. I would have thought you would have sucessfully "purchased" it by now.
IC: the piratingis takingmore time than expected... but nothingcan escape mymasterful hacking abilities forlong...
IL: Good. If mine dosent arrive soon, I may have to ask you to send me a copy.
IC: I can totes dothat once imdone downloading... ;)
IL: Please don't make that face. Its disturbingly unsettling enough as an emote.
IC: awww, youre nofun. If thatshow youre gonnabe, ill take my emotesand harass Evan. See how youlike that.
IL: You know I'm not actually serious right?
IL: But in all seriousness. I have to actually go now, my mailbox watching webcam is telling me the mailman is here.
IC: iforgot how lameyou were, butthat webcamcomment just reminded meabout it.
IL: Well screw you too.
IC: kay, byethen.
IL: Goodbye.
-incoporealCriticist [IC] ceased pestering InquisitoralLogician [IL]-
Well then, time to check the mail.