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Alexander was a privileged person. He could -- did -- have everything he wanted. He was bathing in the riches his parents had accumulated over the years. Anything that he considered a material need was his; most people would consider this to be spoiling but it was actually the opposite. His parents -- they weren't even his parents anyway -- had forgotten they had adopted a child as the years went on. They were so consumed by their work and in love with their wealth that they forgot how to raise a child and why they even wanted a child in the first place. They showered him with gifts every birthday of his as a way of saying, "Sorry we forgot about your existence. Have all these clothes and video games. Here's a flat screen TV, too. We love you in a completely egotistical way."
It was the neglect that helped him this far in life. Well, neglect was part of it. He would always get this far because it was destined. He was destined for greatness.
His life wasn't completely normal after that. Then again, it was never normal to begin with. His biological father had abandoned him when he was just a baby and his biological mother was no where to be seen. She never made an appearance in his life until the day he turned ten years old. It was a rather boring and tiresome affair with his adoptive parents coddling him as much as they could for 24 hours before they forgot about him again. But they generally forgot about him come noon so never reached their goal, and it was around that time before his adoptive parents left that they started fighting.
If he had to find one redeeming quality in his adoptive parents it would be the fact that -- setting aside tendencies to neglect their children adoptive or otherwise -- they had the perfect marriage. They never fought with each other, and it was clear that they never would.
Then this particular day arrived. The day had been the average Suffocate Alexander in Presents fest when their incessant cooing towards him turned into unfathomable rage at each other. It was utter chaos. His adoptive parents who were so good and perfect were throwing punches and shouting phrases no ten-year-old should hear. It was then that he felt the weight in his left hand and looked down to find a golden apple in his grasp. It was shiny as if it had been freshly polished. It weighed as much as a normal apple should, hell, it even smelled like a normal apple. But there was something about the apple he couldn't quite explain. Pure power, pure force was emanating from it, and his ten-year-old mind processed the idea that he held a part of that power. Literally and figuratively.
And thus began his reign.
Alexander meant "man's defender" or "man's warrior". Alexander the Great was the conqueror of the Persians and many other civilizations. He didn't know exactly why Alexander was chosen as his name, but he didn't really care, either. He just knew that he was something like a god and was chosen to inflict chaos on the world.
Or, to start small, the people around him. Ever since he was given that golden apple by some divine power, Alexander caused chaos wherever he could. He did it to further his reputation, he did it for kicks, and he did it just because he could. And he loved it. He loved how he could say one little word and start a fight. He loved how he could get away with almost anything; he just needed to cause a distraction.
At first he might have had doubts. He might have been wary at first because he was just a child, and then his other divine gifts began to manifest. At first he believed they were useless and unimportant, but he learned how to use them to his advantage. He was always right. He was always in control. He was a god, and a god should be respected.
He was dressed in his usual clothes -- white button up with the cuffs rolled to his elbows and a navy tie, and black dress pants with equally as expensive shoes without a mark on them. His black hair was combed carefully and uniformly without any mistakes and his piercing blue eyes were trained on the crowded street in front of him. His eyes darted from person to person as he observed their expressions. Some had blatant worry etched into their face, the reasoning he didn't care. Others were horribly, disgustingly happy and it was apparent that nothing could go wrong in their lives.
It was those who were happy who he preyed upon first. Maybe "preyed" isn't exactly the right word. "Toyed" might be better. He disliked people who were happy with themselves. He hated their sugary smiles and their enthusiasm that was so false. He noticed one man on his phone who had a metal band on his finger. A smirk grew on his lips and he tapped the man on the right shoulder as he was walking past. The man looked up from his phone with an annoyed expression on his face that grew into a smile.
"Yes?" the man asked and Alexander cleared his throat before continuing. His eyes flicked over the man's appearance once more and stated in a hushed whisper: "Sir, I think your wife is cheating on you."
The reaction was slow, then a look of horror appeared on the man's face which was later replaced by uncontrollable anger. A wide grin grew on Alexander's face as the man dialed another number and began shouting at the woman on the other line. As he began to walk away, his walk became a strut.
It happened almost instantly. He should have been more careful; he always told himself he would be anyway. But each time he did this gave him a euphoria he couldn't quite explain. Muscular arms grabbed him and pulled him into an alley away from the crowd. Alexander struggled against the man but he had never spent a day at the gym in his life so the struggle was hopeless. He could smell sour breath against his neck and felt a cold metal against his neck. Immediately his mind created thoughts he didn't need. He started to spew lies at the man.
"You're adopted! Your father killed your mother! Your brother is a liar and a coward who hated you ever since you were born. Listen to me! Listen to me." His voice grew more panicked with each sentence he managed to say, and he grew angrier with each lie. It wasn't working. For the first time in his life his abilities weren't working.
"Why isn't it working? Tell me! What did you do?' He spat and felt the cold metal dig into his neck. The burn came with the scent and texture of blood, and just when he decided to try again one last time, he felt a weight barrel into the him. The cold metal fell to the ground and he whirled behind him to see the man running away.
Alexander turned towards the boy who was saved him. He looked him up and down, scrutinizing his appearance as he wiped the blood with his hand. The wound had begun to dry for which he was grateful. These clothes had cost a fortune.
The boy before him wore a green t-shirt and jeans. His shoes were obviously ones he wore a lot; they were faded and dirty. His hair was black and his eyes a light brown. "Who are you?" he asked before he remembered he had to win this boy's favor. He managed a smile which the boy did not return.
"He's Nick," another voice answered from behind him. The girl stepped up and crossed her arms over her chest before staring at him. She reminded him of the girls at school who knew how to speak their mind.
She was pretty in an innocent kind of way, with her strange pink eyes and white colored hair. "Alexander." he stated with a smile and a hand extended. She frowned and didn't take it. He pulled it back to his side and turned his head to look at the crowd of people. What he didn't expect were sets of numbers to have appeared over every person's head. They were sets of constantly changing numbers, and it took him a moment before he worked out what they were. "Clocks..." he murmured and his voice trailed off. When he turned back towards the duo, the girl nodded.
"Yes, they're clocks. We'll explain everything later if you come with us." He looked from her to the boy named Nick. There was something about them he couldn't place, but it reminded him of himself. He was reminded of the day the golden apple appeared in his hand, how it emanated power. He got the same feeling from those two. Somehow, in some way, they were like him.
The thought came as a chill down his spine instead of reassurance, but he decided to trust the girl for now.
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