The alarm blared in my ear at 6:30 a.m. I slammed my fist onto the snooze button. Blessed slumber. At 6:35 it was going again. I plucked it from the table and hurled it across the room. Just the ordinary day in the life of Jesse Underland. And I tell you, I hate it.

I pulled myself out bed and dragged myself to the bathroom. I looked at myself. The grey eyes, the mussed brown hair, and other more common features. I combed my hair and put it in a side part. I brushed my teeth and put on deoderant. I went back to my room, pulled off my baggy shirt, and got dressed. I put on a dark grey t-shirt embossed with a tiger fighting a dragon. I pulled on my sock sand a pair of black denim pants. I put on my beat up low top Nike's, and threw on my over-sized dingy green coat. I picked up my bookbag and went downstairs. I dropped my bookbag on the couch and went into the kitchen. I fixed myself a mug of black coffee, and a bowl of cereal. When I was done, I went to the medicine cabinet, pulled out my allergy medicine, and dry-swallowed a pill. I then took a two quart container of orange juice from the fridge, and poured a glass. I set the glass in the fridge and drank what was left in the container.

By that time, it was 7:00, and my family was awake. My younger siblings were bickering over the dog, my mom was rushing everyone from the house, and I had pulled out my CD player and was listening to Mudvayne. I picked up my bookbag, got in the car, cranked it, and waited for everyone to get in the car.

I backed out of the driveway and drove off. I dropped my siblings off first, then myself. I was listening to "Nothing to Gein" by the time I got to Highland. I walked into the hell hole. I got to Mr. Michaels room, turned the CD player off then on again so that I could listen to "Dig". I sat at a computer and logged on.

It was 8:00, and the start of any normal Monday. It was the same old schedule. 1st period- a headache. 2nd- nap time. 3rd- internet. 4th- Revenge of the Son of Nap Time.

5:45 p.m. School was out, and I was at home, playing FF9. Fighting Ozma for the 50th time. Getting killed for the 50th time. Guardian Mog casting Rebirth Flames for the 25th time. Getting re-killed for the 25th time. Getting Game over. I shut off the PS, threw on my coat, and went outside. I was gonna' take a walk.

I had been walking for about three miles, deep in thought, when I heard footsteps behind me. 6 men, by the sound. The way they breathed indicated they were middle-aged. I spun around to face my stalkers. My coat swirled, and several locks of my hair fell across my eyes. I brushed the hair out of my eyes and observed the men. They all wore black suits and wore black sunglasses. Being a conspiracy theorist, I immediately thought of MIB's, but I quickly discarded the idea. These men didn't seem like automatons, let alone extra-terrestrials. And besides, they weren't driving a Lincoln.

"What do you want?" I asked the strange men.

"Son, you're gonna' have to come with us," said one of the men.

"Funny, guys. Why should I? I know my rights. On what grounds do you base this arrest?"

"Look, kid, we didn't want to have to do this, but," the men drew odd looking pistols that had been holstered at their right hips, "we were told to use force if you didn't comply." The men fired their guns, and the pistols emitted large beams of white light. I dodged 5. The sixth hit me in my left forearm.

"Now, will you come along quietly?" inquired the first man to speak.

"Fuck you," came the reply.

The men fired again. They apparently meant to hit me until I was unconscious. I wasn't so lucky dodging them this time. My mind kept reaching toward the shadows, for some reason. I held my hands out in front of me as if I were holding a long sword. For some odd reason, a long sword appeared in my hands as if out of no where. The shadow of a nearby tree was missing, but I didn't notice that. The sword was black from the tip of the blade to the base of the hilt.

I swung the blade around, deflecting the beams of light. I then rushed forward and, with a few swift slashes, slew all of the men. I then looked at what I had done, and dropped the sword. It immediately disappeared, and the tree's shadow reappeared.

"Bravo, Bravo." I heard clapping above and behind me, over my right shoulder. I turned around and saw an old man sitting in a tree on one of the farms by the road.

"What do you want, bum?" I asked.

"Bum? Me? No. I'm not homeless. But I'm glad you got away from them." The old man pointed at the men. I spotted a badge on one of them. Federal Agents. Shit.

"Why do you care?"

"Because, child. They would have delayed your destiny. I've been searching for you for some time now. I didn't know why until now."

"Why would you be searching for me, and what does this have to do with destiny?"

"I was told to search for you. They told me not to tell you their name, so I'll leave that alone. But I'll tell you this. Fate has dealt you a nice hand. It's been ordained that you are to be one of the ones to help stop him."

"Him? Him who? Hang on, sorry, but I don't really believe in fate. I'm my own master, and choose my own path. C'ya later, hobo." I turned and began to walk away.

"Wait!" The old man called after me. I spun around just in time to catch an object flying towards me.

"Just in case," The old man said. He disappeared. I was holding a necklace. It was a thick, heavy chain made of a strange dark grey metal that I had never seen before. Hanging on the chain was a single charm. It was a large black leaf made of iron. Set on the leaf in rubies was my own ensignia. An A set over a V with the crossline extended both ways, and a dot on either side of the crossline, all set inside of a circle. He put it on. It felt oddly light around my neck. He went home.

As I lay in my bed that night, hands behind my head, I thought about the events of that day. I realized, I didn't know how, but I did, that I could control shadows. I just knew one thing. I fingered the necklace. I wasn't going to carry the name of my deadbeat father while I had this power.I remembered the black sword I had. I'm a Tolkien addict, so the name came to me instantly. Turin Agarwaen Mormegil Umarth Turambar. Four Silvan words, all with dark meanings. Turin, the bloodstained blacksword of ill fate, the Master of doom. I liked it. I went to sleep with that thought in mind, and my dreams were troubled with images of what I could do with darkness. The rubies glowed all night long.