James 18, male

James pulled himself slowly out of bed, yawning loudly as he staggered across the hallway to the bathroom. Relieving himself, he yawned again as he walked sleepily down the flight of stairs to the ground floor of his house. He paused for a second to look at himself in the large mirror his mother had hung in the main hall, staring at the sleepy face in front of him. He was about six foot three in height, so just above average, but still not freakishly huge, and head a thick head of dark brown hair, which was currently sticking up at a variety of crazy angles, as he hadn't cut it since finally finishing school almost a month before. He looked down at his chest and arms, his fit legs hidden under the long sleeping pants he always wore, his muscles the result of a small gym his parents had given him for his sixteenth birthday after he had complained that the local gym was too far to bother going. He ran a hand through his hair and looked at his drowsy face, he was by no means bad looking, but he wasn't a fashion model either, less handsome, more...something else... he couldn't think of what this early in the morning.

Turning away from the mirror, the young human walked into the kitchen, grabbing an old pizza box and half checking that the contents were still edible, before yawning and heading into the lounge to relax on the couch before getting to work on a hard day of doing nothing. He yawned again as he walked into the living room of his side of the house, wondering if his parents had gotten up yet.

"Sonnuva...ow!" he shouted as he landed on the floor, rubbing his head as he stared at the huge crate sitting in the middle of the semi-detached house's lounge. Blinking in surprise, he tossed the pizza box onto his beaten up couch, getting up off the floor and grabbing the note pinned to the side of the box, reading his father's scrawling handwriting with practised ease, "Emergency conference, will be gone for at least one, maybe two weeks. Package arrived as we were leaving, don't know what it is. Have fun, don't die."

Looking at the crowbar, he finished his slice of pizza and got up, jamming the end of the iron bar into the box. He shoved on the piece of metal, gasping as the wood groaned, the nails slowly pulling out of box. Justin swore as he found himself suddenly lying on his front, the crowbar caught painfully between his stomach and the floor. Sitting up, he threw the tool to one side, rubbing the slight bruise that was already forming and turning back around to see what was inside the box.