"Hi. My name is Nick Fabre, and lately weird things have been happening around me."
Nick Fabre was used to seeing strange things happening around him, even if nothing strange was really happening at all. To Nick, the most harmless of things could be, and most likely would be, possibly dangerous and possibly trying to eat him. Being a weak sort of boy, his paranois, or "overactive imagination" as Mr. and Mrs. Fabre put it, was the perfect defense mechanism to prepare himself for any upcoming dangers, whether or not they actually happened. The simple fact that Nick hadn't died yet just told him that his methods were working.
Lately, Nick had been feeling like someone was watching him. While most people get this feeling from time to time, Nick's feelings of suspicion had graduated from the usual annoying buzz to a full out marching band parade, or maybe a loud hammering, or perhaps some other very loud, repetitive headache inducing noise. For the first time ever though, Nick's suspicions were right.
As Nick walked home from school, three figures watched him carefully, concealed behind a small shrubbery.
"You mad?" The first one whispered harshly, "You even sure that beanpole's our guy?"
"Of course. I mean, look at him!" The second figure whispered back, gesturing in Nick's general direction, "Look at those awesome skills of perception!"
The three figures all craned their necks to observe these supposed awesome skills. At that moment, Nick Fabre's paranoia cause him to look around his carefully. The three figures quickly ducked back behind the shrubs.
"Okay... Maybe," figure one grudgingly agreed, "but, look at him... again. He's a freaking wimp!"
Three heads popped over the shrub once again, this time to observe their target's alledged wimpiness.
The boy definitely was scrawny. While he might have been tall, it only stretched out his unusual thinness, giving him the look of a fragile reed. He had a certain colourlessness about him that just made him seem sickly. His straw-like hair seemed dull and grey and the rosiness of cheeks that you'd normally expect to see in a boy his age was completely invisible. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, indicating a lack of sleep, yet he seemed completely alert, his eyes darting from side to side, checking for any unseen assailants.
"Duly noted," Figure two whispered , retreating back behind the bush. It turned its head to the silent final figure, "What do you make of all this? You've always been good at this sort of thing."
Three turned to look at its companions and, in continued silence, pulled out a small corked vial filled with a translucent orange liquid.
"Fantastic!" Two exclaimed in hushed tones, "I knew we'd be on the same page."