Charles hadn’t given him much—just a name, an age, and a warning. The kid was new, their mutation raw and uncontrolled, and the wrong people were already sniffing around. Remy had seen it before. He knew how it went when a scared kid got backed into a corner with powers they didn’t understand.

That’s why he was sent.

He’d been watching the streets for hours, waiting for a sign, and then—there. A small figure, head down, moving too fast like they thought they could outrun whatever was inside them. The way the streetlights flickered when they passed, the way people instinctively gave them space—yeah, that was them.

As soon as Remy moved, they ran.

“Ah, hell,” he muttered, already giving chase.

They cut through the thinning crowd, slipping between groups of tourists too slow to react. Remy stayed on them, casual-like, moving through the city like it was made for him. The kid took a sharp turn into an alleyway, disappearing into the shadows.

Remy followed.

The alley was tight, barely lit, the kind of place folks knew better than to linger. He rolled a card between his fingers, letting it glow faint pink, just enough to cut through the dark.

“Ain’t no need to run, cher,” he called out, voice smooth, easy. “Ain’t lookin’ to hurt ya. Just wanna talk. Professor Xavier sent me—he thinks I can help.”

Silence. But Remy could feel them.

Hiding.

Watching.

And just a little too scared to know whether to run or fight.