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"I'm sorry, sir. I haven't gotten that far in my research yet. We need a couple of days to finish our project first. If you can wait that long, we can begin working immediately." The researcher explained politely.

"No worries. I understand." The man nodded.

"In fact, I'm glad that you came early today. As long as there are some questions which might help with our project, I'm willing to provide answers as needed." He added with a smile.

Alexander had no idea what to do next. He didn't really know where to go now. All he wanted was to find some answers. He wanted to know who killed him.

He needed to find out why. He didn't want anyone to hurt him. Even if it meant that they would have to sacrifice their own life in order to protect him, he would allow them to do so. The thought was simply unacceptable.

This time he would not let them get away. He had vowed never to forget about this matter. Now he had a chance to pay them back for what they had done to him. He would not rest until he understood what had happened to him.

The only problem was that he did not know where to start. He had never been in this kind of situation before. His mother, the woman who raised him since birth, had always kept track of any information regarding his parents, and he knew very well how to find out things about them.

But he knew he was completely ignorant on how to find information about someone who had been dead for so long. He could not imagine what it must be like to keep silent and stay in a dark place, surrounded by nothingness.

Suddenly, he realized something. He remembered that he had a picture of his parents. He had taken it many years ago when he was young. His parents had died in an accident two years ago when they were traveling down a country road. They had fallen into the river near the end of their trip and drowned.

There was not much information known about this accident. It did appear that they crashed. However, no one believed this story. They believed they fell on another car.

Alexander looked at the picture again. The pictures that he had made were of his parents and he always took care of them as best as he could. The only difference between them was that there were no photos of his grandmother or grandfather. His grandparents were both deceased during the accident.

So he decided to create another picture. This time he would make a photo of the person who killed his parents. It would probably have to be a pretty bad photo, considering the circumstances. Nevertheless, he had prepared himself beforehand.

He got up from his chair and went into the bathroom. In less than ten minutes, he came out wearing a simple black hoodie and pants.

The hoodie was long sleeved and he tied it tightly. He also put on sunglasses which covered almost half of his face. He then grabbed his backpack and left the house, locking the front door behind him and putting the key under the mat.

He walked across the street and then stopped in front of a bookstore. After looking around for a while, he finally found a shop that sold books.

After spending nearly a whole day searching the bookstores around the town, he was finally tired. He sat on the ground and rested his back against the wall behind him.

"Are you okay, young man?" A voice suddenly sounded beside him.

Alex slowly lifted his head and turned his body to glance at the stranger standing beside him.

He looked young, maybe twenty years old. He had dirty blonde hair and he looked extremely thin. His body was hunched over slightly as he looked at Alex with worry.

"Yes..." Alexander muttered.

"Can I sit with you?" The stranger asked with a hopeful smile on his face.

Alexander hesitated a moment before replying him. He looked at the man closely for a second and then said quietly, "Okay."

The stranger smiled brightly at him and he sat down beside him on the floor. "What brings you here?" The man asked curiously.

"Nothing special," Alexander shrugged. "Just looking for somewhere quiet to relax for a bit."

"Where are you from?" The stranger asked curiously.

"New York City." Alex replied.

"Oh wow! New York City!" The man exclaimed excitedly.

"Yeah," Alexander nodded in response, wondering how someone like this could be interested in such a small city.

"Well, what brings you here?" The man asked.

"My family is... Well they..." Alexander sighed, "They disappeared a few months ago... And I haven't seen them since."

"Do you know what happened to them?" The stranger inquired.

"Yeah," Alexander nodded, "They were kidnapped."

"Kidnapped!?" The stranger gasped. "Who did that?!"

Alexander stared at him for a moment with disbelief. Had this guy actually believed him? How stupid could he be?!

"It doesn't matter," Alexander replied flatly.

"Why not?" The man asked curiously.

"Because I have to find them, okay?" Alexander snapped.

"Okay," The stranger agreed immediately. "You can trust me, okay? I won't let you down."

"Thank you, sir." Alexander whispered.

"It's John," The man replied. "John Laurens."

"Alexander Hamilton." He introduced himself.

John's expression changed to a shocked one. "You're Alexander Hamilton, son of James and Martha Hamilton? I've heard so much about you!"

"Really?" Alexander questioned in surprise. He had not expected that everyone he met would know about his parents.

"Of course!" John nodded eagerly.

"Wow," Alexander murmured. "Thanks..."

"So..." John started, "Tell me more about your parents, okay? Where did they come from, and what happened to them?"

"Well..." Alexander trailed off. "My mother used to work at The Daily News. Her name was Elizabeth Hemmings. My dad is George Washington, president of the United States." Alexander paused momentarily. "Actually, my mom married my father because she didn't have a choice. He was her boss."

"Wow!" John whistled, impressed by Alexander's story. "So you're the future president?"

"Uh... No..." Alexander shook his head. "President Eliza Schuyler died during childbirth. President George Washington was elected instead."

"Oh!" John breathed out. "Damn, that's sad. How old are you anyway?"

"Twelve." Alexander answered.

"That's cool." John smiled. "I'm twelve too, you know."

"Really?" Alexander asked in disbelief.

"Yep! We're twins!" John grinned widely and patted Alexander's shoulder.

"That's amazing."

"How did you become president?" John wondered.

"A lot of good fortune and hard work," Alexander replied.

"Wow, that's incredible!" John exclaimed. "I can't believe that it's possible to become president just by luck alone. I don't even know how many people will fight to be president."

"Well, I'm not sure either." Alexander admitted. "If I remember correctly, my mother's family has had several presidents. Some of them have been famous for decades."

"Haha, yeah!" John laughed. "I don't know if I should call myself lucky, though. When I was younger, everyone thought I would be president, but then I fell sick and ended up going to school."

"Sick? Really?" Alexander asked in astonishment.

"Yeah." John nodded, "At first, they thought that it was just a cold, but after a few weeks passed, the doctors began to doubt that I was ever going to recover. So they gave me a shot of medicine which helped with the pain but I didn' think anything more about it. I still wasn't feeling great but I managed to push through my illness. By that time, my grades were slipping and my teachers told me that I couldn't continue in classes anymore.

By the time I started to feel better, all of the tests I'd gotten earlier had been removed. The doctor said it was because I was doing so well that he'd given me a clean bill of health. Apparently I hadn't been contagious, but he thought I was taking medication. I guess they figured that the medications had affected me enough to make me immune to the virus."

"Wow... That sounds horrible." Alexander shivered inwardly.

"Anyway, when I started to feel better, my friends and I were celebrating our graduation. We spent every single day together, except for Sundays. On Sundays we would usually watch movies together and eat junk food until noon. It was always fun and I loved every second of it. But one Sunday morning, it was different. Everything seemed wrong. I woke up to find my mother crying and my grandmother yelling at her. It seemed like my mother had caused my grandmother some type of trouble again. That was definitely not normal.

When we arrived home, my grandmother began talking to my mother and saying that it was her fault that our lives had gone to hell.