A:/N: Since I don't like excessively long A/Ns at the beginning of prologues, I'll do the formal introduction in Chapter 1.

The Prologue

Listen, I don't like introductions or prologues. I think they're boring. Hopping straight into the action is far better, I reckon. Prologues are like being stuck in a waiting room: you can practically feel the story, it's right within reach, but for some reason the author wants to build up the anticipation to make you even more anxious before you go in.

So sorry about this. I want to set the facts straight before you make any assumptions. To tell you where the story really starts, because at the time I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
Wow, I really sound melodramatic. But it's still true. Here's the beginning.

-Personal Messaging Sequence:

Starting at 8.35 PM, 10 April 2010-

RedConverse: Hey, I checked out your blog the other day, and it was awesome. I was wondering about that one band you featured last week? I can't find their information anywhere.

GetOutWindow: I'm glad you liked it.

The band's name is Steel People (not to be confused with Steal People, because that's a pedophile site that I never intend on revisiting ever).

RedConverse: I'll make a note of that. On the bright side, I now know that you're probably not a creeper.

GetOutWindow: Or I'm just using reverse psychology, you'll never know...

RedConverse: I'm terrified. Don't expect a Facebook invite from me any time soon.

GetOutWindow: Pssh, like I'd want you on Facebook. Either way, I'm still extremely lovable, if you don't count the fact that I watch people sleeping and have children locked in my basement.

RedConverse: Awesome, so you're basically Edward Cullen then?

GetOutWindow: Oh please, I've never touched a tube of body glitter before in my life.

RedConverse: Denial is said to be an ugly emotion, you know.

GetOutWindow: I think I'd know if I've ever had the urge to bedazzle myself.

RedConverse: Even the manliest of men have, at some point in their lives, wanted to rock the bedazzled look. You don't have to hide it from me.

GetOutWindow: Fine, there was this one time when I was five. I found this really awesome green glitter in my mom's crafts shelf and I accidentally spilled it all in my hair.

RedConverse: Accidentally?

GetOutWindow: That's what I told my mom. :3

RedConverse: And she believed you?

GetOutWindow: Of course she did! Lying is one of my many gifts.

RedConverse: Along with sneaking unnoticed into people's bedrooms and getting glitter in your hair. I'm jealous already...

Yeah, I know. Its a crappy place for a story to start. Just a kid messaging a guy about a band he featured on his blog, who wants to read about that? Not some badass shootout, or with an epic car chase scene. No emotional moments to grab the attention of the reader or some foreshadowing event.

Nope, it started with me being bored one night. Yes, protagonists do sometimes do less interesting things than killing the bad guy or finding some holy trinket. Shocking, I know. Sorry if I just threw your childhood out of the window, but it's about time you found out.

But I'm getting sidetracked, as per usual.

Right now I'm hoping that you're at least a bit curious about this mysterious GetOutWindow, who happens to be my best friend. So I'll tell you all that I know about him.


He's a sixteen-year-old boy that's in my time zone, and has black hair.

… Yes, that is really how much I know about his real life persona. I'm not kidding. Sorry for the dramatic build-up.

And no, neither of us are paranoid. What actually happened was that we made a deal not to tell each other anything about who we were, because we wanted to outlast the other before letting something slip. It was the only rule we had. We could talk to each other about anything at all, but personal information never allowed.

I didn't even know my best friend's first name, and neither of us thought it was weird. It was comfortable and mysterious; no strings attached. We were two strangers that had a friendship – and maybe a little bit of hope – in each other.

Contrary to popular belief, I don't have a friendship with a person called Marco 'Fang' Novia. Trust me, he's not the type of person anyone want on speed-dial... unless you happen to have an underwear-modelling emergency, but that's besides the point. For now all you need to know is that I don't like him.

So this is a story about me. And a stranger for a best friend, a jackass for an enemy, a pyro for a partner in crime, maybe some illegal stunts, and the death of someone. (Which might just be me if my mom ever finds about the illegal things that I may or may not have done.)

Oh, I nearly left something off the list. Nearly dying also features here a lot. I guess I did give death quite a few punches in the face in my lifetime, and I hope you will put up a fight too one day.

But like I said, none of this is too important for now. You know where this story starts, which is all you need for now. I don't like to ruin endings (or the face of death, that bastard likes to hold a grudge about a couple of teensy right hooks) so I guess all that is left to say is that this is only the beginning.

Welcome. I hope you'll enjoy reading this story almost as much as I did living it.

No pressure.