A/N: Salutations, guys and gals. I exceeded my expectations, and made a second chapter in these three weeks of limited computer access. I also want to mention real quick: The "Mystery pesterchum user" is a Cannon Character. Just sayin' it may be prudent to start hypothesizing as to who he/she may be.

Also, I want to give a quick shout out to Spyzee for being helpful as ever, and to Tatopatato for all his comments.

As always, I own nothing save the OC's, and...as far as I know, all rights and things belong to Andrew Hussie.

The sky over Seattle grew ominously darker by the minute.

Oblivious to all around him, Chris lounged at his computer desk, glad to have the annoying wound in his arm no longer bleeding.

The young lad was waiting for word from either Evan or Chester on what to do next. Last he'd heard, Chester got hit by a comet, and then didn't. Then there was something called a medium... and squids... and he could swear he heard something about communism in there.

Still, Chris never bothered with details anyway. As long as Chester and Evan knew what to do, Chris was content to do as they said.

Finally, his pesterchum received a message. Excited, he opened the chat client, only to find that it was not InquisitoralLogician or EnragedExtremist that messaged him... Hmmm... An unknown user, possibly a spam bot. Chris pondered for a moment about whether he should troll the hell out of him, or send virus emails to the user's address. Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, he settled for the former.

-ErROR0124nOtFoUnD[#$] be#a! pe #erin^g incoporealCriticist [IC]-

#$: Greetings Christopher.

^%: My time with you is short. So I shall make this brief.

IC: Hiiiiiiiii theeere! :)

IC: Doyou wantto befriends?

*(: There is no time for that. I have something important to share with you.

IC: OH! OH! Isit thatIve won acontest?

IC: No! Waitis ita cruisetrip?

IC: Ivealways wantedto go ona cruise

$%: No.

& : I am here to speak to you.

#:You are special, Chris. More so than you can possibly know.

IC: Hey! I amnot "special",Iwas testedfor it.

%&: You have an important path ahead of you, child. A great destiny.

IC: Hmmmm... continue

*): One beyond your friends, even.

#: Are you willing to fulfill your destiny, Chris?

IC: Ifthe catchis my creditcard info, Idont haveone. Itwas stolenby a hobolast week

%*: All that I need from you, is your cooperation in the future. Nothing More.

IC: Idont know. Yousound shifty.

^&: Know this. Your actions will lead to the survival of an entire time-line and a dimension. Not just the protection of one session.

$*: I have taken great pains to execute this plan. So I cannot disclose anything yet.

^&: But know this. You will be saving the lives of innumerable sentient beings.

*: All I ask of you for now. Is that you IMMEDIATELY visit your denizen upon your entry into the medium. Do nothing Else.

#$: Is that so difficult?

IC: WellI guessnot. Idont evenknow whata Denizenis. Chesterprobably doesthough,

IC: ...

IC: Allrightfine. Mayas well. Whynot.

! : A most wise choice. I will speak to you again, later.

^&: For now though, It would be best for you to keep this conversation to yourself.

IC: Why?

$%: Your friends would not understand. They would be a liability at this stage.

^*: I understand this is hard. But trust in me. This must be done.

IC: OK. I'lldo It.

%*:You will not regret this.

-ErroR0124NoTFoUnD[%^] ceAsed pest#$%g incoporealCriticist [IC]-

"I'd better not," He muttered.

Leaning back in his chair, Chris wondered just what he had gotten himself into this time. This was almost as deep a mess as the time a few years ago, when one of his Bro's friends asked Chris to move a...package across town. When he asked what was in it, the friend hesitantly said...Baby powder? With that. Chris knew that the delivery was a good idea. After all, it was a delivery of baby care supplies, what was wrong about that?

That time, the police found his eight year old self on the street and gave him a ride in their car. They took him to a room with a nice old fellow that asked him lots of questions. After a few hours, they took the package and gave Chris a ride home. He assumed they were so nice to him because he was doing a good deed, delivering baby supplies to a "buyer", who was clearly out of the stuff.

Chris still looked on that as a fond memory. So, why would this case be any different? The strange guy needed help, right? And he said a lot of nice things to Chris, so he liked the guy. There was no harm in helping him, he decided.

Just then, his pesterchum beeped again,

Glancing at it, he saw that Chester was back on, and was now contacting him. UhOH, Chris would need to act normal, or else they would be onto him, and his mysterious friend.

-InquisitoralLogician [IL]began pestering incoporealCriticist [IC]-

IL: Chris. Are you present?

IC: yep

IC:Imhere

IC: Whywouldn't I be?

IC: Thatwould besilly.

IC: Ha

IC: HaHaHa

IL: Ok. Enough of that. Whatever the hell that was.

IC: ha.

IL: This is important. So listen up.

IC: Listeningclosely

IL: Stop interrupting.

IL: So. I will begin setting up the various things to get you into the medium.

IC: Whatsa medim?

IL: Evan didn't tell you?

IC: heprobably did,

IC: Ikinda spacedout

IL: Dammit Christopher. This is a matter of life or death.

IC: OHGOSH, PEOPLE ARE IN TROUBLE?

IL: No. Everything is fine. Calm down.

IC: oh, okthen

IL: So. I guess since you won't remember anyway. I may as well brief you as we go.

IC: ButI dontwear briefsthough,

IL: …

IC: beforeyou yell. Thatwas ajoke.

IL: Look. Just open up Sburb. Connect with me. And clear out your living room and kitchen. So I can deploy some stuff.

IC: ?

IL: Push furniture into the other rooms.

IC: . GotIt.

-InquisitoralLogician [IL] ceased pestering incoporealCriticist [IC]-

Chris had no idea what most of that meant, but he knew enough to open up Sburb, navigate to 'server hosts' and to connect to InquisitoralLogician. Then, Chris quickly went to go to the kitchen to shuffle furniture.

Now, since Chris knew Chester had never seen his house, Chris could tell that he Chester was overestimating the quantity of furniture inside his little apartment. Entering his kitchen, he pushed the large cardboard box that was the dining table off into a closet, along with the smaller cardboard chairs, then returned, unplugged the toaster oven that sat on the floor and pushed it in as well.

With the kitchen empty, he turned his attention to the living room.

The living room was furnished with only a thread bare sofa, upon which his brother currently slept, after having smoked a little too many of his 'green fun sticks'. The room also hosted a box television, that sat upon some cinder blocks.

Captchaloguing the television, Chris began to pick up armfuls of cinder-blocks and hauled them off to the closet. Upon arrival, he dumped them in there, and uncaptchalogued the TV as well. Returning to the living room, he poked his brother to try to make him move, receiving a grunt in response. Sighing, he grabbed one part of the couch, and dragged it across the floor to the hallway. Exhausted, he kinda just left it in the hall. Since it was out of the room, he figured Chester wouldn't mind.

Walking back to his room, he saw his laptop beeping again.

-InquisitoralLogician [IL]began pestering incoporealCriticist [IC]-

IL: You are finished?

IC: Yep

IL: Excellent. So. What I will be doing is deploying two machines inside your house.

IL: Two out of four, to be precise.

IL: They will facilitate your entry to the medium. Preferably, before the comets come and wipe you off the planet.

IC: THEREARECOMMETS?!

IC: WHAT theHEll?!

IC: WHY?

IL: That's a good question. I think it's because the universe is an ass.

IL: Anyway. You would do best to remember this process. You will need to replicate it.

IL: Evan's life will be at stake.

IC: Ohgosh, OHGOSH

IL: Calm down. You'll do fine.

IL: Now then. These first four machines. Can be put in either order. There are way more than four in total, but only the first four are needed to enter the medium.

IL: They are the Cruxtruder, Alchemeter, Punch-DesignX, and the Totem Lathe.

IL: There will be operating instructions later. As of now though. Observe.

-InquisitoralLogician [IL] ceased pestering incoporealCriticist [IC]-

For a few seconds, Chris stared out into the living room, confused as to what Chester was doing. Evan had explained to him earlier, how sburb worked, but he wasn't really paying attention at the time, so now he had no idea what was happening.

After a few moments, nothing happened, so he got bored, and turned away, when a heavy 'thump' resonated throughout the apartment.

Whipping around, he nearly had a heart attack when he saw a massive...thing appear in his living room. It vaguely resembled a shoebox, with a soda can coming out of the top. What the heck was this? He wondered, What sort of black majjyk tomfoolery was this?

Immediately, he went on pesterchum to demand an explanation from Chester.

-incoporealCriticist [IC]began pestering InquisitoralLogician [IL]-

IC: Chesterwhatis that?

IL: What's what?

IL: The Cruxtruder?

IC: Thething in thelivingroom

IC: Howthe helldid it getthere?

IC: Majjyks? Itsmajjyks, isn'tit

IL: What? No. I just put it in with sburb.

IL: Wait. Let me guess. Evan 'forgot' to explain anything to you. Am I Right?

IC: Er... yeslets go withthat.

IC: So, sinceEvan is aterrible friend, canyou explainit plz?

IL: ...Fine.

IL: I'll give you the abridged version.

IL: Sburb lets the client player. (me) see the house of the host player (you).

IL: Using the program. I can create. Manipulate. Or delete objects and walls and things in your house.

IL: There are also premade machines that can be spawned in. Like the Cruxtruder there.

IL: Everything you do costs a certain amount of grist. So at some point. I will likely need to delete some stuff.

IC: Thatdosent sound good

IL: Don't be a baby.

IL: Anyway. The point is to use the four starting machines to get you into a parallel dimension before a comet wipes you off the planet.

IC: A..comet?

IL: Shit. I shouldn't have mentioned that. Calm down. I need you to work with me here.

IC: A COMET

IC: OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD

Chris was in full panic mode at this point. While he understood most of what Chester said, when he heard, 'comet', he flipped the hell out.

While he always overreacted to everything, he normally didn't fear guns and knives and things, because he was sneaky and fast. However, one couldn't hide or outrun a massive space rock, hurtling at terminal velocity, carrying enough energy to wipe out a city.

Chris felt really dreadful and sick to his stomach. His hands were shaking at the prospect of facing death at such an age. Knowing, that his life at this point, was in Chester's hands, and completely beyond his own control.

Knowing that he needed to calm down, Chris took a few deep breaths, (ironically enough, T'was Evan that presented Chris with a way to calm down, instead of the other way around). Feeling less light-headed, he responded to Chester

IC: Okimback

IC: Whatis up withthis 'comet'

IL: As far as I know, it only comes once you open the hatch on the cylindrical portion of the Cruxtruder. Once you do that. A countdown begins.

IL: So. We will need to set up everything we can. Before hand.

IL: Ill put down whatever else I can. You sit tight for now. Ok?

IC: alrightthen

-incoporealCriticist [IC] ceased pestering InquisitoralLogician [IL]-

With nothing to do now, Chris went over to the kitchen, where, with yet another thump, another machine materialized on the grimy floor. This device was long and narrow. Quite clean, too, a marked contrast to it's surroundings. It looked almost identical to a lathe from school. (At least from way back when he still went to school, that is.)

With no further directions from Chester, Chris wandered around the small, smelly apartment, steeping over piles of clothing here and there. His laptop was firmly tucked under his arm, rather than in his fetch modus. He didn't want to miss any notifications from Chester. In his mind, he alternated between panicking about the impending death he would soon face, and attempting to commit everything Chester had told him to memory.

Chris dreaded Evan dying because Chris wasn't fast enough with putting the devices down, or because he wasn't economic with his grist...was that what Chester called it? ...whatever. He moved on.

Distracting him from his musings, the laptop beeped once more.

-InquisitoralLogician [IL]began pestering incoporealCriticist [IC]-

IL: We have a problem.

IC: OHGOD WAHT NOW?

IC: ISTHE COMETCOMING ALREADY?

IC: Are YOUOUT OF THEGRISTYSTUFF?

IL: No. Not out of grist. Actually, since im not faffing about with the design tools.

IL: We actually have just enough grist for everything.

IL: But we are out of something else. However.

IL: There's no more room to put stuff.

IC: Thats aproblem

IL: Yeah. I can see.

IC: WAIT. Ijust gotthe mostperfect Ideaever.

IC: forwhere wecan putthe stuff.

IC: Justgive me a sec.

IL: ...Ok then. Hurry up though.

-InquisitoralLogician [IL] ceased pestering incoporealCriticist [IC]-

When Chester mentioned that there was no more room in the apartment, Chris had an epiphany. He knew one place with plenty of room...he just had to make sure it's inhabitants were absent.

Grinning, and mentally entering 'stealth mode', he captchalogued his laptop, and ran through the house, weaving past the so called, "Cruxtruder" and the couch in the hallway, arriving at a utility closet.

Opening it up, and with expert practice, he shimmied between the pipes and the water heater, before beginning to scale the pipes, climbing upwards with gusto and determination. After a few moments, he reached the ceiling.

Reaching out, he felt around in the darkness for...ah, there it was.

Almost imperceptible, there was a small hatch, cut by him in the thin, plaster, ceiling with a box-cutter, many years ago. Preforming a flawless lad-scamper, he climbed through, and emerged in the dark, bug and mold filled gap between apartments.

He was now flat on his belly, sandwiched between two rows of pipes, in complete blackness, probably breathing in toxic black mold and degrading asbestos, but he was fully calm and even content. Here, he was in his element.

He crawled along for a few feet, going off muscle memory alone, before, right where it always was, lay a vertical shaft.

Skillfully maneuvering himself into it, he sort of stood, and began to climb, using the pipes as hand-holds, until he once again had a solid barrier above him. Excellent.

Feeling around, he soon found yet another hatch carved by him. Gently opening it, he silently raised himself into the upstairs apartment, and closed the hatch behind him.

He now stood in his upstairs neighbor's boiler room.

The water heater, and, the air conditioner in general were silent, that was a good sign. Still though, he needed to confirm the old people's absence. Creeping to the door he uncaptchalogued a handy little device that served him faithfully in his heists... a plastic cup.

Putting it against the door, he listened intently for any noise. These old farts were always either jabbering, or asleep. Chris would know, he had been in their apartment many, many times...

Satisfied, he opened the door without a noise.

Entering the apartment, he uncaptchalogued his laptop and messaged Chester,

-incoporealCriticist [IC]began pestering InquisitoralLogician [IL]-

IC: Alright hereweare,

IC: Putthestuff downhere

IL: Err... Is this your apartment?

IC: ...no.

IL: Who's is it then?

IC: Myneighbors,

IC: Bunchaold crustypeople. Seroiusly,screwthem

IL: Um. Chris? I don't think this is legal.

IC: Pffft. Whocares?

IL: ...Law abiding citizens who don't want to get arrested.

IC: Hey! Imlaw abiding. I RECYCLE! And,I don'tlitter.

IL: ...Whatever. Fine. Let's just do this before they come home.

IC: Yey. :)

-incoporealCriticist [IC] ceased pestering InquisitoralLogician [IL]-

Chris then watched as in the nicely furnished living room, a large metal desk appeared. Upon its side was a...what was it... one of those primitive computers...without a screen...whatever, something like that. Chris also noticed various slots in the side of the device.

He heard a dull thud come from the kitchen, so he wandered over there next. Upon entry, his eyes were once again assailed by the sheer horror of...ornamental plates.

He didn't know what was wrong with these people.

How could any human being possibly find these abominable china plates 'nice'? Chris thought as he examined the contents of one of many, many, cupboards.

Oh yeah, there was also the matter of the large...thing Chester put here. He was just...distracted by the presence of his mortal plate enemies in the room.

Taking a closer look at the device, he saw that it was a large rectangular box, with a cylindrical platform in the middle. There was a tall pole sticking out of one side, from which a large device was suspended suspended above the circular platform.

The middle platform, like all the other devices was emblazoned with the same weird symbol as all the other machinery.

Then, his pesterchum beeped again. Surprisingly, it was Evan this time,

-EnragedExtremist [EE] began pestering incoporealCriticist [IC]-

EE: Hey guys,

EE: Are you done yet?

EE: Because, I, have a TEENSY PROBLEM HERE

IC: jeepers,whatisit?

EE: Oh, nothing major, JUST THE FACT THAT METEORS ARE FLATTENING THE JUNGLE AROUND ME!

EE:HURRY THE HELL UP!

-EnragedExtremist [EE] ceased pestering incoporealCriticist [IC]-

Well damn, Chris didn't know how to react to that. His first thought was, complete and total panic about Evan's safety. His second thought was to make Chester hurry up. Before he could message Chester though, Chester messaged him.

-InquisitoralLogician [IL]began pestering incoporealCriticist [IC]-

IL: Right. So. We are running out of time.

IL : Here's the abridged version.

IL: Go to your apartment and find the Cruxtruder

IL: (the thing in the living room with the crank)

IL: Turn the crank (or somehow lift the lid) and two items will be dispensed.

IL: the first is a blue orb that follows you. You will need to throw something in there. It dosent especially matter what.

IL: Second. A blue crystal rod will be released. captchalogue it.

IL: Then, Go to the Punch-DesignX (the thing in the other apartment's living room).

IL: Take the crystal totem's captchalogue card. And put it in the slot.

IL: Once you have a punched card. Take the card and the totem to the totem lathe(the thing that looks like a lathe).

IC: Ihave questions.

IL: Shush. We don't have time. Re-read anything I said for clarification.

IL: Secure the totem inside the lathe. Put the card in the available slot. And activate the Lathe.

IL: Then. Once you have a carved totem. Go to the Alchemeter. (the other thing in the old people's apartment) And place it on the provided pedestal. This will create a crystal item on the center pedestal.

IL: Then. You will need to figure out how to activate it.

IL: Once activated. You will enter the medium.

IL: Good luck.

IC: Waitno

IL: What?

IC: Howdo Iget backto theapartment?

IL: ...Shit.

IL: Give me a second...

-InquisitoralLogician [IL] ceased pestering incoporealCriticist [IC]-

Chris watched, as a portion of the carpeted floor just...disappeared, until there was a square hole in the ground. Looking down, he could see his filthy apartment.

Well, he thought... that was one way to do it.

Shrugging, he lowered himself though the hole with cat-like grace, landing with only a soft, muffled 'thump' on the concrete floor. Running to the living room, he approached what must be the Cruxtruder.

It was a big, ungainly contraption, that almost scraped the roof. Now then, Chester said to take the top hatch off. Well, there definitely was a hatch. It almost reminded him of a manhole cover.

The crank on the side suggested that he open the lid by turning it, but Chris had a better idea. Hopping up on the machine, he simply captchalogued the lid.

Surprisingly...it worked. Almost immediately, a gray glow filled the room.

Slowly, a mouse gray orb floated up from the cylindrical hole in the Cruxtruder, and gently went to hover beside him.

Normally, Chris would have been shitting bricks at this point, and, though he was still ready to scamper away at so much as a twitch from the orb, Chester mentioning it, was enough to keep him still. For now.

Remembering his instructions, he hopped back on the Cruxtruder and looked inside. Sure enough, a gray... crystal-thing (totem? Chester had called it) was inside. Chris captchalogued it, and opened up his pesterchum to reread what Chester said to do next.

Apparently, he was now supposed to go back up to the "PunchDesign...thing"...ok then.

As he made to go back to the hole in the ceiling, Chris noticed something that made his blood run cold.

On the Cruxtruder. A timer had begun.

It read 10:00

Was that a timer for the comet?

He certainly hoped not. Still, it gave him a bit more 'spring in his step' as he basically sprinted, in sheer terror, down the hall and rapidly ascended the hole Chester had made, with all the grace of an Olympic mountain climber...(was Olympic mountain climbing even a thing? Chester probably knew,...or maybe not. Sports was Evan's thing.).

In under a minute he stood atop the hole, and, like a particularly persistent homeless man the orb still somehow followed him. Running over to the kitchen, pausing to glare at yet more fancy cutlery, (Seriously, how have these people not been burglarized yet?), Chris entered the old folk's living room, where the Punch...thingy was housed.

Thinking back to Chester's instructions, Chris uncaptchalogued the totem's card, and...spent almost two minutes looking around for where to insert it. Finally, as he had lost all hope, he saw the slot. On top of the machine. In full view.

Chris was sure Chester was mentally face-palming right now.

Sliding the card in, he heard various beeps and clicks, the machine began shaking violently, which reminded him of the washers at the laundromat he used. Hmmm...

Now that he thought about it, he did remember some gentlemen in black suits and ties enter the laundromat, and climb inside one of the washers, and not come out... Maybe, he decided, they had a secret club-house in there! Gosh, that would have been cool.

With a 'ding', the machine finished, and ejected the card, which Chris deftly caught. Examining it, he found many small, rectangular holes punched in it. It reminded him of a punch card, that steel mill workers used back in the Great Depression...What? He liked history...the parts with gangsters and smugglers anyway...Which kinda explained why he liked Galaxy Wars. No matter what anyone said, Han Yolo was a great Character.

Captchaloguing the punched card, Chris looked through his laptop, for his next instructions. According to Chester, he had to go back downstairs, and put the crystal and the punched card in the lathe-thing. Simple enough, he reasoned.

Running back to the hole in the floor and feeling quite pressed for time, Chris could only spare the loathsome Fine China a passing glare as he (quietly) thundered past. Dropping through the hole, he rolled before hitting the carpet and came to a smooth stop. He continued running towards the kitchen, sparing the Cruxtruder in the living room a passing glance.

The timer read 06:00

Shit. Not good. This would be cutting it close.

Frantically approaching the lathe construct in his kitchen, nearly slipping on some solidified grease in the process, Chris slammed the totem into position, pushed the card into the appropriate (he hoped) slot, and hammered the only visible button on the control panel.

The sharp blade part of the lathe spun up, and with a deafening buzz tore into the strapped-down totem. Shards of crystal peppered the room, and forced Chris to take cover behind a wall. Plates and cups (if they had any) would have been blasted to smithereens by the sheer force of the shower of shrapnel.

Finally, it stopped, and Chris began to regain his hearing. Entering the room, his shoes crunching on fine crystal powder, he removed the now 'carved' totem, which was now all smooth, and curvy and wavy. Kinda like a vase...or something. Chris didn't really know what a vase was, he just felt it was a fitting word to use.

Remembering the last instructions, he captchalogued the vase...totem, and sprinted towards the hole. As he ran past the living room, he noted, with horror, the time on the display.

02:00

With no time to lose, and all the speed of a cornered rat, Chris vaulted up the hole, and ascended up to the next floor. Running to the kitchen, he gave the china no attention as he sprinted. Entering the room, he slammed the totem onto the Alchemeter? 's pedestal, and frantically slammed the activation button.

The tall pole began to unfurl into a robot arm, which then began scanning the totem. Chris willed it to go faster.

Then, after a few seconds of Chris standing there, heart almost exploding from his chest, the totem disappeared in a flash. On the center of the pedestal, a pile of...gray cloth? Appeared.

Picking it up, confused and anxious, he shuffled it around, trying to figure out what it was and how the hell he would "activate" it. Noticing fancy stitching, (he was a... seamster? Male version of seamstress, anyway) and he knew his fabrics. This thing was some sort of...curtains? Drapes? Something like that?

Glancing at the window, he froze. Comets were falling all around the city. The sky was a hellish red. The overpass would shelter them...for now.

Frantically, he tried to do anything to make the curtains "activate". He ran over, and slung them over the window...nothing happened. He wrapped himself in them...nothing happened.

He had almost given up hope when, his laptop beeped.

Desperately, he opened pesterchum and saw a single sentence.

-ErROR0124nOtFoUnD[#$] be#a! pe #erin^g incoporealCriticist [IL]-

($:You have thirty seconds left.

# : Try to tear it.

-ErroR0124NoTFoUnD[%^] ceAsed pest#$%g incoporealCriticist [IL]-

Barely able to think straight, and blinded by pure fear, Chris grabbed at the gray drapes with shaking hands, and tried to rip them. After a few agonizingly slow seconds of failure, inspiration struck him.

He quickly uncaptchalogued his glass cutter, and swung it's sharp edge down, towards the lump of cloth in his lap, as the light outside the window reached a blindingly bright red.

-ErROR0124nOtFoUnD[#$] be#a! pe #erin^g incoporealCriticist [IL]-

! : 00:00

-ErroR0124NoTFoUnD[%^] ceAsed pest#$%g incoporealCriticist [IL]-

The comet hit.