Hi.

That's how to properly start off a story—clear and concise. Straight to the point… sort of.

The second way is through introductions: my name is Eugene Quin Trevers. I am a 14-year-old male from the great outskirts of Garden City, New York. It's a small town adjacent to New York city, which often makes it an over-shadowed, unknown place. Which was perfect for me.

I never liked big cities; too many large crowds, higher population. Which automatically translates to more police cases, robberies, thefts, rape scenes, and all those heinous crimes.

Not exactly an attractive place for me.

Besides, I had enough problems living in… well… anywhere! I'm ADHD, which always is a bit troublesome, have a social anxiety problem, and am a bit of an outcast by everyone else for reasons I care not to share at this time.

I also am victim to many spontaneous assaults made by strangers who have a bone to pick with my dad or something. It's… hard to explain.

I've barely been able to go this long without having some sort of bodyguard around me at all times. My father has been considering it lately, as the 'spontaneous' assaults have been getting more common, and less spontaneous, and more planned…

However, thanks to my dad and how tough of a guy he is, he can always manage to fend off the intruders at any point. He even decided to pay for martial arts lessons for me starting at the age of 9—because he worried about my safety.

And because of that, from something as simple as a cocky school bully, to a full-grown thief or murderer, I can usually hold my own and even beat them in combat thanks to the wooden sword and bo staff that he gave me for my birthday a while back.

Do not be deceived: the wooden bo staff and sword are not made of just any wood. My father said he got a special deal and got it from the black market just for me.

They are made of some ancient wood called the 'Ovium Wood', which somehow made its durability stronger than any other wooden sword out there.

I never understood how a wood such as that could exist, but I didn't question it any longer once my father brought down a metal sword upon it with all his might… the metal sword dented and the wooden one was untouched; barely even a mark left on it.

The bo staff was useful for martial arts training, which lasted for about three years. I stopped going because I was told I couldn't learn anything new from them anymore. I was a second-degree black belt two years ago. Now… I would say I'm maybe a first-degree black belt. I'm rusty; I know that much. But I didn't know just how rusty I had become after two years. It was hard to say.

Besides: this isn't the information you care about. You want to hear my tales… at least I believe you do. Just figured I would cover most of the specifics of me, who I am, and what is going on.

So, without further ado, my story:

It was June 6th; summer.

I had nothing planned exactly; just doing normal kid stuff. Maybe challenge some street bullies or 'Neanderthals' as my father liked to call them, to a fight and beat their sorry butts as a lesson. I was a lone-wolf this summer; all by myself. All my 'friends' either didn't think to hang out with me this summer at all or were too busy. So, it was a summer of wandering the town, staying at home, or maybe walking or getting my father to drive me to New York City. That would be fun and eventful.

Anyways, I was currently at home. I had the remote control next to me on the couch as I surfed the channels in search of a good one; politics maybe. I loved politics.

So there I was: bag of sour cream and onion Lays chips open as my hand reached in and grabbed one. Surfing the channels for a good political drama, or maybe some ridiculous newsflash. The entire scene now, looking back on it, reminds me kinda of Death Note the anime.

I heard a knock at the door; a bit of a furious and maybe even could be called aggressive knock. Like someone was urgent to be answered. I stopped eating the chips and took my hand out of the bag. I muted the TV, set the remote down, and stood up; brushing off my clothes from the crumbs I had left.

A second knock; more urgent and aggressive than the first. I began walking over; slowly, very slowly. I was unsure of who was behind that door. They were knocking quite fiercely for a regular person. It wasn't a pizza delivery guy and wasn't one of those telegrams or whatever. Most people use the doorbell. So why wasn't the person on the other side using it?

I looked at the time: 3:07 p.m. My dad wouldn't be back for another 4 hours—he had to work late today. Which meant if this was another intruder… I would have to handle it myself.

I was just under five feet away from the door when…

DING-DONG

They rang the doorbell. It was about time they did.

I wondered then if they had been knocking initially to make it seem like it was a life-or-death situation if I didn't open the door immediately. Then perhaps, they decided to ring the doorbell to get me to come over faster; maybe thinking I couldn't hear them or was busy. The doorbell was to allure me to the door more easily.

This kind of thing had happened a couple times before. I remember times when a simple doorbell being pressed, my dad would answer it, and would instantly be assaulted by whoever was on the other side.

I had to play things carefully; unfortunately, we didn't have a hole with which to peek through and see who was on the other side. And no way to properly tell either. I would have to risk it no matter what approach I took…

I was stalked by strangers and cornered often enough that I had memorized approaching-patterns that they commonly used. So now I was able to tell if anyone was stalking me at all.

At this point, as I finally got next to the door, I wanted my father to return. I wanted him off from work and home early so badly. He would be able to help if this was an attempted assault and battery.

But no. I breathed in slowly and quietly, and then exhaled the same. I had to stop panicking. I had to do this alone. If there happened to be someone who wanted me harmed or even dead on the other side of this door, then I must deal with it alone. By myself. I was capable; I wasn't bad at self-defense. In fact, it was the opposite; I was very good at defending myself. It was the prospect of an unknown threat which I had to encounter, with nobody to help me. I was truly doing this solo.

I inhaled again, but held my breath this time, as I gripped the handle, and began turning the doorknob…

Instead of opening the door slowly, I swung it wide open, and got into a fighting stance; one arm raised above my face and chest area ready to block, and one arm open at my side with which to strike the opponent.

It was a 16-year-old looking teen standing in front of me.

I scanned him quickly; frizzy red hair, darker, tanner skin than my own. He was obviously trained in some way, for he was relatively well-muscled for a 16-year-old, and he wore an orange shirt that read: Camp Half-Blood. I kid you not. He wore khaki-colored shorts with a pair of hiking shoes. His legs also were well-muscled.

His gaze had been turned off to the side when I initially opened the door. Now, his steely deep green eyes looked me over. I could tell he was scanning me as I scanned him.

I thought of ways to take him down. He could very well be trained in martial arts like myself. He definitely had the right physique for that to be true. However, for some odd reason he had a sword strapped to his back. It glinted from the sun coming in from the opposite side of the apartment building. I was genuinely surprised to see someone like him, carrying around an obviously-real sword. I wondered if he had ever been stopped by the police for something like that…

He cleared his throat. "Hey there. I'm Oliver. What's your name?" He held out his hand for a shake.

I looked down at his hand; I was still in a fighting stance. He looked pretty relaxed sticking his hand out like that towards me, so I instantly assumed he thought of me as no threat. Which meant he was at least somewhat of a good fighter.

I reluctantly reached out my own and shook his hand. It was calloused and rough. "Eugene. Why did you need to know?"

He shrugged. "Always better to get accommodated first."

Ok… that was an out-of-place statement. Context for what he meant would've been helpful.

I stood up straight. He was a few inches taller than myself: being a 5'11 at least. I was barely 5'8. This also added to the intimidation factor. I guessed he was purposely trying to impose his dominance on me right off the bat; so there was no question. Well… at the first chance, I would show off my own unwillingness to cooperate with whatever ridiculous thing he'll eventually ask me or force me to do.

"Can I come in?" He asked me. It almost sounded like he didn't want to ask that, and instead wanted to simply barge in and claim it as his own.

I stepped to the side and gestured for him to come in. He did so.

After all, fighting on my own turf just gives me that slight advantage if a fight were to break out between us.

He surveyed the area as I closed the door; it was obvious he was no stranger to thought and assessment. He might just be more intelligent than myself; which was saying a lot.

He walked towards the kitchen. "Mind if I have something to drink?" He asked as he opened the refrigerator and began rummaging through it.

I frowned deeply. "Ok, I'm done with this atmosphere of mystery. Who are you and why are you here? I don't mean your name. I mean your status and reason you're carrying around a sword with you."

He found a can of Dr. Pepper soda, popped open the can, and guzzled a third of it down in a matter of seconds. "I'm here for you."

That shot off red flags all over my mind instantly. "Why?"

He shrugged as he drank more soda.

I concluded that he's a young prodigy being used by someone who hates my dad to come and kidnap me, to force my dad to cooperate with any sort of stupid demands and whatnot. Not like my dad had much at this time…

I began subtly inching towards my room. My sword and bo staff were in there. If I could just get to them…

He finished the can, crushed it, and tossed it into the trash bin. "Alright. Down to business now that I'm refreshed. Eugene, I've come to bring you someplace safe. You're in grave danger. There are many after you right now and are ironically heading this way as we speak."