John had all the makings of a kid who would get into trouble. He was a loner, a kid who's parents had divorced and left him with his father who was too busy working to pay much attention to the son that was growing distant. Calls from the school about John's isolationist attitude and the black trenchcoats he wore earned lectures frequently punctuated with "What is wrong with you/what happened/where did I go wrong/why can't you just fit in." His desire to think about what the world rejected got him labeled before he even entered high school.
John liked to smoke, and he liked to hang out in dark places, where the general populace couldn't approve or disapprove of him. Alleyways, rooftops, behind warehouses, friends' houses while they played Halo.
Grownups always clucked and shook their heads, saying his habits would get him in trouble, and one night in 2004, they did. On a night with no moon, John was walking to his friend's house and in the darkness between one street light and the next, he vanished.
Left on the Kahlite's doorstep, they did what they could to patch him up, and handed him over to Scott. What Scott found was an intelligent young man who needed the respect and responsibility that could be given by an older figure.
John, in turn, found that he liked the sense of accomplishment and pride rewarded from earning respect and responsibility. He bitterly refused to return to the father who had written him off as dead or a runaway, and started studying to get his GED, finding the public school systems too boring and narrow.
When the world exploded, John was caught in downtown Vancouver, at the DMV where he was waiting to get his driver's license. He'd left that morning, and never returned. He was not quite 17 years old.