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Chapter 3: Saito
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Night had fallen. Without all of the light pollution that cities had let off in earlier times, the sky was full of stars, including a large star band.

Butch whistled to himself as he made his way from HQ to lock down the warehouse they kept their supplies in. Inside were two jeeps, and many crates and several cargo containers, all full of a mix of legit and illegit items.

He walked over to the door's control panel, but just before he pressed the close button, he heard a noise.

It was not a loud noise, if he hadn't stopped whistling he would have missed it. It sounded like shallow breathing.

Curious, Butch looked for its source, he found it in a corner. It was a small boy, curled up and fast asleep on the ground. His hair was deep red and he was clutching a beat up PET.

The boy awoke to see four unfamiliar faces looking at him. He let out something between a shout and a whimper, and quickly backed against the wall, a look of fright on his young face.

'' Hey hey hey! We're not going to hurt you, we're not like the townspeople.'' A young man said.

The person to his right, a young woman, asked him, ''What is your name?''

''It's S-Sa-Saito!'' he said, almost shouting his answer.

''Saito... That's an odd name'' the woman said to herself. '' My name is Karla, by the way.'' she added.

''I'm Terry.'' said the male next to her.

''I'm Butch, I found you in our warehouse.'' said a muscular man in the background.

'' And my name is Victor, you can call me Vick.'' said an eccentric looking fellow.

'' P-Pleased t-to meet y-you...'' Saito mumbled, still clearly intimidated.

While this people had badly frightened him, they seemed different, they weren't driving him away. Swallowing his fear, he pulled a photograph out of his pocket and held it out.

''Have you seen my Mama?''

Terry took the photo and Karla, Butch, and Vick crowded around him to get a look at it.

It was fairly worn. It showed Saito and a young woman who had to be his mother. Saito looked happy in the picture, unlike now, with his dirty face and sad eyes. Standing behind him, with her hands on his shoulders was his mother. Her hair and eyes were the exact same color as Saito's, and she wore blue jeans and a white blouse. There was a building in the background, but it was impossible to decipher its name, as the letters were too small to read.

Terry noticed something else, while his mother was smiling, her eyes conveyed incredible sadness, as if she had seen terrible things.

Wait a minute... he though. There was something very wrong. According to the numbers on the bottom of the photo, it had been taken some eighty years previously!

Its probably just a glitch or something... he though. But still...

''I'm sorry, but no, I haven't.'' he answered, handing the photo back. He really felt sorry for the kid. His mother had probably been killed, and he was now an orphan.

''Th-Thank you, Terry-san...'' Saito said sadly.

''Ah, I'm Amerropian, you don't have to call me -san.''

He looked down. ''Huh? Is that a PET you're holding?''

''Yeah. Mama gave it to me, but it's empty.''

''Can I see that?'' Vick asked, taking the blue thing anyway. He proceeded to examine it, opening its back and looking at the circuitry. Then, he returned it.

''The only damage is cosmetic, its insides are fine.'' he pronounced.

''I can handle that.'' said Butch, ''I can fix it right up for ya, how about it?''

''Thanks Butch-san.'' said Saito, looking happier.

''But what are we gonna do with this kid?'' Karla asked.

''Terry.'' came Dash's voice. Terry took out his PET. ''I think we should try to find out more about him. Let's start by finding out the name of the building in the picture.''

''Sounds like a plan.'' nodded Terry.

He was curious; were did this kid come from? Who was he? And the photo's date was really making him feel uneasy. What if it wasn't a mistake?
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In response to a reviewer, yes, the chapters get longer as the story continues, at the beginning, I was simply trying to write down what I had envisioned. Later, and currently, I shoot for at least 6 written pages.