Aha! a new story for the Generator Rex category. This was a fun one to write, and ive got a few more ideas up my sleeve for chapter two. The character focus here is (you guessed it) rex, and his interactions with others. Hmm, I tried to keep Rex in character, but he really isn't the angst-y kinda guy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Generator Rex, just the angst I stuff into my stories. :)


Some days were absolutely great.

Rex would breeze through training, hang with Noah, hit on Holiday, and escape his 'Nanny'. He'd mess around in the petting zoo, annoy White, play some video games with Bobo, and everything in between. Rex was young, and the world was at his fingertips.

But that wasn't every day.

Rex doesn't really remember when it all started, just that one day, he had to slow down. It was the little things at first; just forgetting where he left his shoes, or being unable to recall a new recruit's name. But soon those little things began to get out of hand. Rex would be searching for a video game for hours and then suddenly forget what he was looking for. He would end up skipping meals because he forgot to go to the cafeteria when it was open. A few times Rex even forgot some of his trademark Spanish words.

He never really thought much of it, until that one day with Noah…


The two of them were running to Providence's indoor gymnasium to shoot a few hoops on the court. Usually the duo would be outside enjoying the warm sunshine. However, Mother Nature didn't want to agree with them today, choosing instead to flood the neighborhood with torrents of rain. They were being reckless, literally careening through the halls at a breakneck speed. They decided to race to the gym, both taking what they believed to be the fastest route, and whoever lost had to buy the sodas afterward. Rex, who had lived at Providence for years, knew the best shortcuts and was sure he would win.

If he used the old shuttle elevators at the end of the hall, he should be able to get there first. The newer, central shuttle elevators were always too crowded, and trying to run down all those flights of stairs (like he figured Noah would do) would take too long. Almost no one used the old elevator, so it would be a quick drop to the first floor. Not only would he win and get a soda, but Noah would be out of breath. Haha, score.

He pushed the down button and stepped into the elevator, listening to the doors close behind him. With a huge victory grin slapped on his face, he spun around on his heels, index finger ready to dramatically hit the right floor's button.

But then he paused.

His smile slowly faded as he looked at the 20-something buttons. When had there been so many floors in Providence? Rex's brows furrowed together as he tried to recall the right number. He had gone to the gym hundreds of times, he should know this. Rex chewed on his lip as he stared at the rows of buttons. Should he get out and ask someone? That would surely waste his time, not to mention make him look like an idiot, asking a stranger for directions in a place he's lived for most of his life.

Time was running out for Rex, and he knew if he didn't do something quick, he would lose the race. He paced back and forth in the tiny space for a few seconds, weighing his options. Finally, he decided to just pick one and hope for the best. He turned to the panel and was about to choose, when he paused again. He blinked a few times, trying to overcome the fog that seems to have settled in his brain. He was looking at the panel, at the rows of perfect little circles with numbers, the same panel that he has seen since, well, ever. Rex's heart skipped a beat.

He didn't know how it worked.

A small shiver of panic ran down his spine. Should he try hitting one of the little circles? What would that do? Rex screwed his face up in concentration, trying to remember something, anything about this little box of a room. He could vaguely recall a situation involving an elevator… shooting upwards so fast he was plastered to the floor. And explosions…?

Ok, maybe touching things wasn't such a great idea.

He could use his nanites. But then again, what would he ask the machine to do? Where did he want to go? What if he messed up, and was sent hurdling upwards to his death? Rex sighed and rubbed his eyes. He glanced around the elevator, looking for the answer. It was right about then that he began to realize how small this little room really was. He had already been in there for what seemed like ages; what if he ran out of air? What if he could never get out? The walls seemed to be inching closer to him, and every time Rex looked back at the panel, there seemed to be more and more buttons.

So there Rex was, trapped in a box.

After another agonizing moment of panic, Rex whipped out his smackhands, ready to tear the doors open. At the same moment, a little bell went off in the cabin, and the doors slid open to reveal one of Providence's scientists, casually looking over some charts. Upon seeing Rex standing battle ready in the elevator, the poor man jumped and spilled coffee all over his lab coat. Rex scrambled out of the tiny room as fast as he could, gulping down fresh air. His hands folded in on themselves, and he ran a few shaky fingers through his hair. He heard the man mutter something about crazy teenagers, and the door slide shut once more. Quickly glancing behind him, Rex gathered his thoughts and made his way to the stairs. Maybe he shouldn't use elevators for a while. Stairs were healthier anyway…

After finding a map and burning it into his mind, Rex began sulking down the stairs to the first floor. What the heck just happened? He was fine one moment, and then he… just wasn't. This had never happened before, and he was kinda freaked out. Should he see Holiday? He recalled how overwhelmed she had been the past few days with some new nanite samples… no, the last thing she needed was another problem. It wasn't that big of a deal anyway. It had been a long day of training and he was a tired. It was probably just his mind playing tricks on him or something. He passed another map in the stairwell. Rex stopped and turned back. Upon reaching the map, he slid the paper out of its plastic protective covering, folded it up, and stuck it in his back pocket. Providence was a big –no, huge- place, everyone got lost every now and then. No harm in being prepared, right?

Noah was already shooting hoops by the time Rex walked onto the court.

"Dude, where have you been? I made it here ages ago! I thought nooooobody beat you at a race?" Noah said sarcastically. Rex rolled his eyes and took his jacket off.

"I, uh… there was a holdup…"

"Six get ahold of you or somethin'?" Noah questioned.

"Yea, ran into him."

"Oh, what'd he want this time?" he asked.

"Well… Nothing much, really…just training. He wanted to talk about today's training lesson." Rex mumbled.

"Ohhhh," Noah groaned. "Man, he really gets on you for that. Then again, it is kind of his thing… ah well, no biggie. Here." Noah tossed a soda across the court, having bought the drinks anyway. Rex caught the beverage and snapped it open, taking a huge gulp of the carbonated beverage.

"Thanks." Rex smiled, setting the drink down. He grabbed a spare basketball and ran onto the court, leaving his troubled thoughts behind.


It didn't take Rex long to figure out what was happening to him. Holiday had told him that another amnesic episode was going to happen, and that they would cross that bridge together when the time came. But Rex wasn't stupid; he knew that that was just an optimistic way of saying she had no idea what to do. Holiday was a nanite scientist, not a psychiatrist.

It wasn't what he thought it would be like. He figured that one day he would just wake up and suddenly –nothing. His memories would be gone. His friends would take care of him and help him forge new memories, all while kicking evo butt. Or something.

But this… this was so much worse.

He could practically feel his mind slipping through his fingers.

Rex was running out of time; every day it was something else taken from him. Sometimes, if he was lucky, things would come back. He could remember how to use the elevator again, or where his socks kept disappearing to (laundry room!). But only after a fierce and exhausting concentration session, which left him with a killer migraine. And the next day it would be gone again.

He thought a lot about what to do. He could go to Holiday, Six, Noah… heck, even White and ask for help. But then again, what could they do? Holiday said it was practically inevitable. Even if they brought in a specialist, he doubted it would do any good. They pretty much tried everything when he was younger, and nothing worked. Rex felt like he was losing a piece of himself every time he forgot something. Personalities are based somewhat on life experiences, and if he kept forgetting his life, then what was happening to his personality? To whom he really was?

If this whole amnesia thing was really impossible to stop, then Rex wanted to enjoy every last moment he had with his 'family'. He didn't want to be analyzed and scrutinized every waking moment, and he didn't want others walking on eggshells around him either. He didn't want them to worry. So he decided to deal with it on his own.

It was easier to handle when he was alone; he could just shrug it off and move on. But when he was with people… well, it got complicated. They would ask questions and get impatient, and every time Rex would fumble with a weak excuse or comeback. Whoops, lost track of time.' 'Sorry, I've got a headache.' 'Not everyone has to follow your schedule!' He hated the constant questions. He hated lying to them. He hated how he felt. They're his family, they deserved better, they deserved…

They deserved to be happy.

Rex would do anything to keep them happy and worry-free. Anything. So he planned everything out. If it got so bad to the point that he couldn't hide it anymore, he would run. It wouldn't be the first time it's happened, and Rex was sure they wouldn't suspect anything more than a simple 'road trip'. Rex had a backpack filled with extra clothes, non-perishable food, money, a map, and whatever else he thought he would need if he had to go. He wrote down (in case he forgot) the best time to leave, and the quickest, quietest way to do so. And to finish it off, he wrote a quick note to be left on his bed; the closest thing to a 'goodbye' as he could get. It just depended how long he could last. It could be a week, a month, or a year. But whenever it happened, he would be ready.

The only thing he didn't count on was a green-suited agent standing in his way.

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