“Get up!” roared the heavily drunk old man, stumbling up the spiral staircase of the old mansion “Get up you worthless little…”
“I’m Comin!” came a tired voice from behind the door. The old man hurtled one of the empty liquor bottles at the door and it shattered with a loud “crash!” Through the door came fourteen year old Jonathan Anderson, or John. He had jet black hair, the build and height of a sixteen year old, pale skin, and eyes that changed with his mood. John sidestepped to avoid a liquor bottle that targeted his ribs with an amused look on his face. Dodging about twenty bottles his amused look slowly slipped into one of annoyance.
“Stop movin so I can hit you!” the old man boomed
“Have you ever eaten glass?” John asked brandishing a bottle
“Huh...well...uh...no.”
“Tell me how it tastes.”
“I’m not eatin any gl…”
The perfectly positioned projectile smashed into the mans face, shattering both the bottle and his jaw. John laughed as the man, face down, spit up shards of glass. He looked down and grabbed him by the collar, dragged him downstairs and tossed him on the couch.
A minute later the old man was snoring. “Pathetic.” John said with a look of pity on his face. “John, that’s no way to talk to your father.” said a voice from around the corner. It was Donald Pyke one of John’s favorite servants and closest friends. Everybody called him duck because of his bill like nose.
“C’mon duck, he can’t hear me!” John exclaimed laughing “he’s dead drunk!”
“Please call me Don.” Donald said”You should be nicer to him, after all you are his son.”
“First of all,” said John pointing a finger at his father “I’ll be nicer to him when he’s nicer to me. And secondly, for all anybody knows me and him ain’t even related”
“I know.”
  “Cause I told you.” John retorted “You and Tom are the only ones who know, and if anybody else found out dad would kill me.” John explained looking down at his sleeping parent “Well, he’d try anyway.” Don just laughed and said “let’s get some breakfast.”
he two walked until they met up with Tom, the six foot seven retired boxer, (who had somehow kept in shape considering that he never left the manor), who was now the bartender in the mansion. Despite his frightening appearance, troubled past and violent past occupation, Tom was a bit of a softie. John liked Tom because he didn’t talk much and protected him when he came down to the bar during his fathers parties to get a soda.
When they finally got to the lunchroom sized kitchen, it was full of mansion employees all of which greeted John as they did everyday, with grins, waves, and pats on the shoulder. As he passed a table directly in front of the bar that the workers used a one person in a group of workers he had never seen before tripped him. His face was about two inches away from an open drawer of steak knives when he caught himself. While regaining his balance he heard the man who tripped him. After regaining his balance, John went up to the man and tapped him on the shoulder. “You got a reason for that?”
“Yeah,” said the little man rising from his seat “yeah, I do.”
“Alright, well?” John said gesturing him to go on
“Your worth quite a bit of money.” the man slammed his shoulder into John’s stomach. Though he didn’t look like much, he was built like a tank. John hit the floor, rolled backwards, and launched himself into the man; tackling him and knocking him out cold with a blow to the head. He got up, looked over at the open mouthed table of eight unknown workers and said “You look like you know this guy pretty well,” He said pointing at the man that was sitting beside his attacker before the fight. “You can take him home.”
    At the end of that warm summer’s day John was heading back up to his bedroom. A few days later, John learned the reason of the attack, his uncle, who John had visited on many occasions, had passed away and passing a large fortune to John. And everybody wanted it.
John sprinted down the deserted hallway. Once John reached his room, he grabbed the knife that he had bought with using a bit of the money. As he unsheathed his knife, the door burst open and there stood Steven now wielding an ax as well as an assortment of knives on his belt. At the sight of the knife John was holding, Steven reached under his jacket and pulled out an eight inch machete.
“You just refuse to make life easy don’t you?”
“It’s not my job to make your life easy.” said Steven shifting the machete in his hand
“I wasn’t talkin about my life.” John said grinning. Steven roared with rage and hurled a paring knife at John’s head. John moved to the side and the knife shattered the large window behind him. John turned to Steven and advanced. Steven swung the machete at John but he moved out of the way and slashed one of Steven’s legs. John sprinted over to the window and looked out to the pool about eight feet out and fifteen feet down. After being followed into the pool and chased across the yard, Steven caught John in the back of the leg with a knife. Cornered in front of the power box with no weapon and a heavily bleeding leg, John thought he was going to die.
Steven tossed the machete into the ground and pulled out his solid steel ax. Steven swung the ax back and as he brought it down, the world seemed to move in slow motion. At the last second John dove to the side and the ax was brought down into the power box. And when a person takes four hundred amps of electricity through solid metal, they don’t survive.
After Steven’s funeral (which John did not attend), the stitches in John’s leg, and many inconsistent attempted assassinations John finally found a use for the money. At the old age of seventy three, long after his father died of alcohol poisoning and John inherited the house, he got tired of having to defend himself on a monthly basis and decided a high tech security system was in order. Equipped with buttons and levers that triggered things like electric grass, dart guns, and a flamethrower. With all of these defenses, Jonathan lived to be a record, one hundred-thirty-three years old. Today he is buried in front of the mansion which he left to his son. And today John is buried next to his uncle and his father.