It had been fairly simple coming across a little boy by the name Leonard McCoy during 2235, he had a missing tooth, and he were thrilled to no ends about the game of baseball. Just a little boy that happened to run into the road while John was driving a hover car. John abruptly halted the vehicle staring on in horror of the little life that he spared as the child picked up the ball and adjusted his baseball hat.

"Leonard Horatio McCoy!" David's shriek echoed in the air.

John stared at the eight year old boy, a splitting image of himself when he was the child's age, the hover car parked.

"I got the ball, pa!"

Leonard faced the direction of the baseball court waving the ball in the air sporting a dumb grin as David stormed after him then took Leonard by the arm and took him away, his face a bright red, chiding the little boy. John was trembling once they were out of sight. He had almost killed a kid, innocent, harmless, and playful and eager.

So innocent in a utopia that was suited for him.

Not out for blood, fame, or adrenaline saving lives.

Not like Mark.

Not death.

///////////////

Seven years later, Leonard has just become the subject of unusual messages delivered through his comn over the last year. These messages always were demanding that he met someone at different places and the threats grew with each time that it weren't returned. It had to be a prank, a joke, something that was decided on by young kids who were desperate for entertainment. He sends friends off and they come back with faces red and full of laughter about how they were interrogated.

He shrugs off the calls. Who ever is sending them will get tired, eventually, and start the cycle anew with someone else and was highly entertained by his new form of entertainment. It happened often enough with his dad complaining about it even though he did nothing about it and shared how ludicrous his messages were that were promptly sent into spam.

Eleanora has a laugh whenever he retells the messages and can't seem to stop laughing about it.

David is concerned, insists that the fifteen year old block their IP address, and gravely worried.

Leonard admires David for his courage to ask such a question, what if they send a message and they're seeking for help after they stop this charade?

//////////////

It's 2243, a year later. Leonard is jogging, sixteen, under the Georgia trees in his short sleeves and sports shorts. He pants, running through the familiar street, on what is his nightly jog when he were grabbed out of the blue and chloroformed.

The scent, so very distinctive, a scent that he had only known due to smelling it himself in the clinic.

Then he were out falling into the sweet welcoming darkness.

Eleanora McCoy paced back and forth in the living room unable to rest as she sensed her son was in danger.