Very boring gen chapter.

He's sixteen. Clever, but too young to do this, too young to run for long.

He doesn't have any contacts. A lot of amiable acquaintances scattered over the globe, but no real friends, he realizes, no one he can really rely on when he's in trouble. Suddenly, they're not 'Helen' and 'Guilford' anymore, they're 'my dad's friends' children'. His heart is in his throat as he wildly looks around. There's a storm coming in, and he's not sure how much of it is his fault.

Robert Fischer has never felt so powerless in his life.

He's always been told he's intelligent, although he's not quite sure how true that exactly is. He's always been fairly certain he'll be able to overcome any adversity sent his way, but he'd never dreamed he'd become one of- one of 'those people', whom Maurice Fischer says are worse than hippies. In his mind, he's always pictured himself gliding through a boring but easy life.

Pinwheels that suddenly started spinning wildly in his viscinity has no place in that picture.

He looks around again, and a sudden panic grips his throat again when he sees a car. Robert knows cars, but not in the way a mechanic or a buyer does. He knows them the way a passenger does, an instinctive that's my sort of car instinct that settle into rich children when they're young. The street is mostly empty, two or three vehicles passing by every minute or so, and he can see this one coming for him several minutes before it arrives.

He stares up at the sky, apprehension roiling in his gut. He wonders, with a terror so deep that it seems to remove him from his body, if he could kill- with this power of his. He's seen them on TV, they're a growing issue these days. He remembers one of them arching her spine, her face a mask of rage, and raising one arm, plucking pistols from the hands of the police without touching them. Could he do that? If he concentrates, could he just-

Reach out like this, hurl that car away from the road-

He doesn't mean to. He doesn't even mean to, but it seems that his panic acts for him, and the terror that's been growing in him since he saw that black speck on the horizon, from this bus stop in nowhere, spits out of his body and tears up the air, hurling up fallen leaves as it goes, tearing fresh ones from trees. Robert hunches down, covers his face, and rocks. His father would be ashamed. So ashamed of him for showing this kind of terror, but he's terrified.

He's alone. And he thinks he's about to kill someone right now.

It's a full four minutes later when someone touches him on the shoulder.

Robert flinches, and his whole body moves like a snapped string. He finds his uppercut blocked neatly by an expensive dove-gray suit sleeve, and when he attempts to sweep the man's legs out from under him, winds battering at both of them, the man angles his legs so that the kick goes awry, he finds himself stupidly tangling himself up in the man's limbs.

"Goodness." someone comments mildly, and offers him a hand. Robert, his head ringing on the concrete, stares blankly up. "You have performed quite a number on my car."

"Who are you?" he says, and he doesn't know if he's sobbing or not. Everything's numb. "Who sent you? Did my dad- is he taking me back?"

There is a silence with a gentle pressure about it. The man runs a hand down the front of his suit, absently straightening it out. He's Asian, Robert sees, youngish, and his eyes- are very dark. He somehow can't take his eyes off them. "I'm afraid, Mr. Fischer, that I am not your father's envoy." he says, and his voice is heavily accented. Robert thinks about turning his face into the concrete, but doesn't. The man's eyes are very dark. He can think of little else. "I am, however, here to take you to safety."

"I don't understand." Robert says, but the words feel perfunctory. He doesn't mean them at all. He's floating, those dark eyes fixed on his.

"You are going to sleep, Mr. Fischer." he is answered, and he finds himself wanting to protest- he is not Mr. Fischer. That's his dad. He's Robert. Or Robbie, but he's too old for Robbie now, and his father forbade anyone from calling him that. Even his mother when she was dying. "Ah, I see. I apologize. Robbie. You are going to sleep, Robbie. And when you awaken, you will be ready to answer some questions. You will be upset, but you will want to cooperate."

Robert nods. The man's eyes seem to expand, rotate, and he feels his head thud back on the concrete again, but it's not important. "Okay."

The man considers him for a moment. "Go to sleep now."

He obeys.

He's being woken up, rather gently. Someone's placed a headphone around his head, and there's music on, something vaguely French, classic-sounding and warbling. The volume's being cranked up slowly, and it's getting a little louder than is comforting right now. He yanks them off.

He's in a plane.

"I'm awake." he says. He meets eyes with a man- Asian, and that jogs something in his memory, but it's not the same person. Whoever it was. It all seems rather vague, somehow. "Where are we headed?"

"Japan." the man says. Yes, it's not the- other man, whoever he was, because this one's English is flawless, no accent. "Would you like a drink? Food?"

He is hungry, but has no desire to eat. "A glass of water would be nice. Thanks." he says politely.

He looks around for the other man, the one whose features he doesn't quite recall except for the eyes- but that's a stupid thing to home in on, right, Asians all did have dark eyes. It seems urgent, somehow, that he meet with him. He has an overwhelming desire to answer his questions.

As it turns out, the man who walks in with his water is he. Taking a sip- he is too young yet to take a better glance at the water, as he will start doing in a few months- he stares at the man, who is starting to look a little familiar.

"I'm sorry about your car." he blurted. "I- don't really remember-"

"And I beg you not to, that remembrance might be enough to bring on another attack." he was answered. "You really need to learn some control, Robbie."

Robert frowns. "It's Robert."

"Ah well, I suppose you aren't in the same state of mind anymore." the man murmurs. "For your information, my name is Saito."

That's the exact moment Robert realizes he can't go back to his old life. The name jogs something, and now he remembers having met Saito before, at several occasions, Maurice Fischer's keep your enemies closer policy. He'd even attended Robert's fifteenth birthday, if he recalled correctly. Saito's not afraid to tell him who he is, and he's already revealed his abilities to him- the hypnosis wasn't exactly subtle- which means Saito has no fear that Robert's going to run back to his dad and tell everyone. And men like Saito, men like Maurice, don't act riskily like that unless they have a reason.

He closes his eyes.

"Now please." Saito says. "We will discuss some very, ah, worldly issues before moving on to the matter of your security and education."

"You want to know about my dad's business." Robert states, sitting back and feeling tired. "I don't know anything. He never talks to me about business."

"I'm sure a man like Maurice Fischer talks to his son only about personal and emotional issues." Saito says, amused.

The man who woke him up with the French song opens his mouth. "He's telling the truth."

Robert looks at him. I'm in a room full of mutants, he thinks. Wow. I've never...

"Personal details will suffice." Saito says. "I apologize beforehand for probing you about this, but-" their eyes meet, and Saito's eyes seem to be mouths. Robert freezes up. "Tell me about your mother."

"Personally, I feel that a few minor breaches of privacy are worth exchanging for a guarantee of security for the next four years as well as education." Saito says, taking a sip from his glass. Robert sticks with his water. "But do you disagree? Do you feel exploited?"

Robert looks out of the window. He feels empty, but not exploited. "No."

"Your new name is Gerard Post." Saito remarks, leaning back in his chair, staring at Robert. "It is a temporary arrangement. Within a few months I will be able to find a slot to fit you in where you can keep your first name, if you prefer."

While Robert's adolescent mind takes slot to fit you in and runs away briefly, the rest of him's steady enough that he notices the insinuation- the briefest of insinuations- that he might be one in a list of mutants Saito has rescued. And, he thinks, why not? Saito's motives are clear here- mutants banding together. He wonders if he'll be forced into some kind of military thing, if he'll one day be on TV, the kind of protester his dad makes snide remarks about.

He rubs his chin. Saito's still waiting for an answer. "I'd like to keep Robert."

Whatever he'll be made to do, he knows he can't go back, anyway.