Donovan Shmautz's Story

Alastor puckered his lips, forcing the cool evening air through his teeth thusly pursed. Instantly, a melodious tune filled the area around him, drowning out the crickets that, to him, were chirping in honor of his immense glory and unbridled resplendence. He continued to whistle some upbeat tune as he lay relaxed on his back, his hands behind his head, acting as a makeshift pillow.

As he sucked in air through his nose, an all-too-familiar scent saturated his olfactories. At first, the smell was sweet. Cloying even, like an overly ripe fruit. Under the smell's saccharine visage, however, was an overbearing metallic stink that mercilessly jabbed at his nose like a skewer, causing him to crinkle his nostrils every now and then.

Alastor opened his eyes, looking up at the sky above him and the infinite blackness of the space beyond it. The stars, innumerable and indescribable in their beauty, twinkling in the sky. The moon, centerpiece of the night sky, as mellow and calm as it was luminous. A lonely comet hurdled by in the far distance, leaving a thin white streak in its wake—or was it an asteroid? Alastor scoffed, using his arms to push himself up to a sitting position. He was never sure of such things.

The act of making himself vertical forced him to cease his whistling, which somehow made the smell that'd pervaded the air that much worse. Looking around, Alastor noted the source of the coppery scent.

Blood.

It was sort of everywhere, though Alastor certainly couldn't be blamed for that. These Vongola mafioso had decided to resist, and resistance always ended sloppily where he was concerned.

He sighed, replaying events in his head. He asked them politely if this was the location of the Vongola's Namimori headquarters. They told him he "wasn't allowed on the roof" or whatever and pulled guns on him. Blah blah blah, he snapped his fingers, bang bang bang. And now they're all dead.

"Totally not my fault," he said aloud to the closest corpse. The poor man or woman wasn't even recognizable as a human corpse anymore—more like a spattering of meat and expensive fabrics across the floor. Alastor poked at the gooey remains with the toe of his expensive black dress shoe, dying its anterior a dark crimson. Continuing to look around, he noted the positions of the other former Vongolas. Two others, to be precise.

They resembled flies splattered across a windshield. Their skulls were crushed in, their limbs embedded into the wall at odd angles, blood dripping from their assorted remains, pooling below them like a leaky faucet. Alastor smirked. Looked like a truck smashed them into the wall going a hundred miles an hour. Couldn't have been all that pleasant a ride, either.

Oh well.

Alastor leaned backwards, resting his head against the cool metal structure that jutted out of the ground at his back, his stringy black hair in stark contrast with its sterile hospital-white surface. It was tall, perhaps six or seven feet in height, and became thinner the closer you got to its center. Honestly, it looked awkward and foreign jutting out of the lightly variegated rooftop as it was, like some sort of alien space needle. It wasn't hard to imagine that it didn't belong there, or anywhere in this time period for that matter. If you listened carefully, you could hear a metronomic ticking coming from the tower, in tune with the sways and rhythm of time itself.

The Rizzo leader was extremely fatigued after having brought his team all the way over here just an hour or so prior. He could barely keep his eyes open, and switching positions seemed to have burned up the last of his energy. Just five minutes, he promised himself, yawning. Sure enough, with his legs folded beneath him and his hands in his lap, Alastor drifted into a light and wholly content slumber.

Surely the party downstairs would be heating up soon, with all the actors playing their proper roles.





"Do you have to follow me around?" Came a boy's voice, light and fluffy but altogether devoid of feeling, as if from a robot feigning humanity. Like his voice, the boy's face was equally stolid and impassive, even as he spoke in an almost accusatory fashion to his would-be stalker.

"Don't be droll, Trevor," his follower responded in a voice just as high and childlike, but with a distinct edge of authority. "I just wanna see who you're gonna talk to."

Trevor didn't respond, instead shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his black suit pants, the gentle lustrous fabric coming down to rest lightly upon the ankles of his dark gray and silver gym shoes. He wasn't a fan of dress shoes. They had a tendency to fall off whilst he was piloting his C-Frame, his anti-alien combat armor. Plus, they were generally uncomfortable, even in the future.

Under his unfastened Jacquard-stitched suit jacket, black enough to match his debonair dress pants, was a collared shirt, a rich resonant gray in color. Tucked in, top unbuttoned. The dress shirt matched his eyes perfectly—a vibrant ghostly gray. A gaunt black tie had been fastened under his collar by his handlers, but he'd loosened it with his fingers the moment he was free, leaving it to hang almost awkwardly to the side, its tail flapping up ever so slightly as he walked. He really disliked ties. They were relics of the past, like little choking devices. Bleh.

Top met bottom at the belt area, where Trevor sported a custom-made black leather belt featuring the Rizzo family insignia on the buckle. The look was completed by a thin dark gray fabric that sat upon his shoulders like a scarf, descending down to the small of his back. It was a gift he'd received from a dear friend a while back. It was made of a fireproof future material that, when heated, changed colors—usually to a flat light purple. Gifts were a rare thing for Trevor, so he treasured each and every one. Specifically, he wore the scarf everywhere he could get away with it.

All in all, his garb was an unorthodox mix of the urban and the dapper. He thought he looked stupid, all dressed up and what not, but he'd been told he looked "like a real Rizzo".

"You look like a real Rizzo, Trev," his now-definitely-a-stalker said aloud, as if reading the boy's thoughts, "though you really should fix the tie. Want me to do it? You know I can."

Trevor picked up his pace, throwing a look over his shoulder instead of responding verbally. The boy that was following him had to be about as old as Trevor himself: around twelve or so. He had stringy black hair that resembled Trevor's own stocky dark hair, too. They were even dressed similarly, with his follower garbed in lightly-pressed black slacks and a short white dress shirt that wasn't tucked in. Like Trevor, the other boy's suit jacket was unbuttoned, its tails swaying back and forth as he walked, his expensive black dress shoes clicking and clacking across the floor as he picked up his pace, lest he be left behind. The boy moved with a regal swagger, as if he somehow owned the place.

To any onlooker, the two could easily pass as brothers.

In his hurry to lose this stalker, Trevor neglected to keep track of where he was going and collided painfully with someone, nearly losing his balance. Ripping his hands from his pockets in an attempt to steady himself, he took an uncertain step backwards, looking up at whom he'd unintentionally accosted.

For the first time in quite a while, Trevor's stolid demeanor fractured, his eyes widening in genuine surprise at the person before him. Dressed in an all-black suit, the man was much taller than he was, that's for sure. He had rough, untamed black hair that fell down around his eyes as bangs. If Trevor were much taller, he might not've been able to make eye contact, but peering at an upward angle as he did allowed their eyes to meet. He noted the red tint of the man's irises and instantly felt an overpowering sense of... something.

Though impossible to notice by simply looking at him, Trevor's knees were shaking. His traitorous palms had become sweaty. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, like a racehorse pounding down the pavement. It was all very odd. He hadn't experienced anything like this since...

Well, since he fought his first alien four or so years ago, when he was eight. It's your purpose. He remembered one of the scientists from the facility telling him. It is the sole reason for your existence. A weapon for humanity. For the Rizzo. But now he was here. Back in the past. To fight the Vongola of legend that he'd read so much about growing up as a proverbial (or not) lab rat.

And now there was one standing right in front of him—he noticed immediately. And he'd managed to introduce himself by rudely bumping into him. Great.

There was an awkward silence before Trevor mustered the courage to speak, breaking eye contact by looking off to the side.

"Sorry. Um," he began, gulping audibly. "Hi. Sorry." He apologized a second time. "You're... um..." He paused, licking his lips and bringing his hands together in front of him. Subconsciously, he began to twiddle his thumbs. When he began again, he spoke as if possessed, with little to no air between his words. "You're Joel Lambe, the Vongola's Lightning Guardian. Adopted son of Lambo, five feet nine inches in height, one-hundred and forty five pounds, 18 in this time period, goes by the alias Ohm, and whose various interests include—"

A firm hand on the boy's shoulder interrupted his panicked drawl. Trevor turned his head in confusion to see his stalker standing next to him.

"Hey there, Vongola," the stalker began, meeting the man's eye without a single ounce of hesitation. "Nice place y'all got here. I'm Alastor," he said his name as if it were of the highest royalty, bowing deeply at the waist before continuing. "My buddy the talker over here is Trevor. Apparently, he's a huge fan." The words came out with just the slightest hint of sarcasm.

The boy Alastor stared up at the man, this "Joel," with the petite disarming smile of a happy-go-lucky child fresh upon his face; however, the boy's eyes told a different story—one of maturity, hostility, and ill intent.

"Can we trouble ya for an autograph?"





Elsewhere in the gymnasium, a gaggle of business executives in sharp multi-thousand dollar suits sipped their drinks and laughed at each other's off-kilter jokes.

"And then I told him just like this I told him," one of the executives began, his nasally voice catching in his throat. He was a short portly man with bulbous sunken eyes and posture so bad he had to walk with a cane in one hand and a wine glass in the other. "No, I like firing people!" With the way he spoke, it was obvious he was attempting an impersonation of someone, however nasally.

Apparently that was the punch line, because the other three executives busted out in raucous laughter, careful not to spill their drinks as they slapped their knees in unbridled glee. As they quieted down, another of the execs spoke up.

"I've got one," he said, his voice a deep baritone full of the weight and power of his position. He was obviously as accustomed to being the center of attention as he was demanding it, and demand it he did. The other executives each turned their bodies to face him, acknowledging him fully. Something about this man demanded their respect. Demanded their adoration. Demanded their eyes be on him at all times.

Far above all others, the man was like some sort of royalty—like a god—and he knew it. He moved with a royal air. He talked with a royal authority. He had a royal presence. There were none here greater than him, and everyone knew it, none more so than he.

He took a sip from his tall ornate glass cup before speaking again. The others followed suit.

"I recently encountered a family not too long ago," he began, bringing the drink away from his face and down to his side. He was quite a bit taller than six feet, and so towered above his fellows. "This family was particularly powerful, but they managed holdings that I wished to acquire, and were generally in my way."

The executives reacted with looks of mock shock upon their faces, one of them going so far as to silently mouth the words "no way".

"So," the man continued, "my guardians and I killed them all." He spoke as cavalierly as one would when conversing about the weather. "We removed their very existences from history itself, along with the existences of everyone connected with them. When we were done with their motley crew, it was as if they never were."

There was an awkward silence as the executives eyed their fellow CEO with looks of incredulity. Said man, for his part, simply took another sip of his drink, eyeing each of them in response. When they noted the sincerity in his eyes, their expressions transitioned from that of incredulous humor to abject fear. One of them even took a step backwards, jaw hanging. The others were similarly speechless.

If the man acknowledged the awkwardness of the situation before him, it didn't show. At all. The expression on his face was one of absolute tranquility—of a man so sure of himself that he regards his own confidence as one would a law of Physics. His hair, as pitch black as the night sky, was styled into a spiky configuration, the gel holding his hair up against gravity as if it were suspended in time. He wore a black pinstriped suit, buttoned properly, with a white undercoat and silver tie. His expensive black dress shoes reflected the ceiling of the gymnasium above.

He projected power. Raw. Dangerous.

With one final gulp, the man finished his drink, setting the glass down on a nearby table. The sound reverberated through the gaggle like a slap, knocking them from their stupor. The executive closest to the man found his courage first, speaking up.

"Excuse me, sir, b-but... are you serious?"

The man turned to him and raised his hand, slowly reaching inside his jacket. When he quickly removed a card, the other executives flinched slightly.

"The name's Alastor," the man said, responding to the executive's question with a curt gesture and a business card. The poor executive wilted under the force of Alastor's intense gaze, timidly grabbing at the card as if seeking permission. After a few grabs, Alastor allowed him to take it. "Alastor Rizzo." When he smirked, it was an expression devoid of humor or happiness. The malice in his eyes was palpable. "Look me up some time."

At that he swiveled on his heel, turning his back to the men. He was bored with them.

With both hands he straightened his tie.

It was almost time.

In his peripheral vision he spotted a girl with short straight pink hair moving about. Immediately, he knew who and what she was: one of the infamous Vongola.

Perfect.

As he moved towards her, he fought to keep down his smirk, though he couldn't keep the animus from his eyes. It was one of the few things that was truly beyond him.

"Hello, miss," he said as he walked up to her, holding out his hand. "You wouldn't happen to be one of those Vongola guardians I've heard so much about, now would you?"

It was a regular dawn in New York City. The birds were chirping in Central Park as the sun rose over the busy hustle-bustle of the city below. With not a cloud in the sky, it was looking to be a beautiful day. Marcus Pochelli, a simple fisherman, finally reels in his nets from a long night of catching halibut. His haul for the day wasn't large but it was enough to feed his family for another day or two. Moving his boat over the murky waters back to the city, a strange blip appears on his sonar.
"What the-"
With a mighty roar, a huge lizard crashes from the depths of the ocean, utterly destroying the poor fisherman's boat. Setting its sights on the city, the creature lumbered forward, hellbent on vanquishing the concrete jungle and all its inhabitants from existence.
Commissionaire Gordon watched silently from his office. The military couldn't possibly move fast enough to protect the city. Their was only one thing to do. Pressing the button on his desk, a large Asteroid appeared in the sky. A beacon of hope that could only bring justice.
In the blink of an eye, a streak of brown flames rocketed across the sky towards the great beast. With the power of one million suns, the masked avenger buried his right fist into the monster's chest, launching it far back into the sea. With the creature gone, the crowd finally got a look at their savior.

Large brown gauntlets covered his forearms and were met by a tight yellow and green spandex suit. His face was covered by a large helmet, obviously inspired by the Power Rangers. He stood triumphantly as the crowd swarmed around him, shouting his name.
"Meteor! Meteor! Meteor!"A small girl, not even seven years old, broke through the crowd. She had brilliant blue hair and a very stern expression.
"Hey Meteor, time to wake up!"

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The city of New York seemed to vanish in an instant, quickly replaced by a hazy image of a dining hall. Donovan rubbed his eyes, secretly hoping that the dream had been a reality. His hopes were dashed as suits and tight dresses flooded his vision.
He was surprised to see his apparel matched the tone of the room. A shiny black tailcoat, the same color as his dress pants, adorned his torso. A brown collared shirt, half tucked in, complementing the orange of his hair. Not one to wear ties in the first place, Donovan slipped it off the first moment he got and had been currently using it as a makeshift pillow.
Along his waist was the leather belt every Rizzo guardian got when they received their title. Though he'd been a bit disappointed at first, the Asteroid guardian wore his belt with pride wherever he went, mostly because it got him free food and board.

"See Freddy, he was just sleeping. God you worry too much." To his immediate left stood a nervous looking boy about Donovan's age. He smirked, apparently this kid hadn't gotten the memo on the formal attire, showing up in a big blue and white hoodie. On his shoulder perched a small...faerie? He rubbed his eyes again but the faerie still remained, smiling arrogantly. Donovan reached towards the small blue creature, poking her in the stomach.
"Oh good you're real. I was afraid I'd gone insane. " The Faerie huffed in annoyance, whispering something in her companion's ear. He shook his head and extended his hand.
"H-hello sir. I'm Fredrick Dill Koenig and this" he gestured to his blue winged companion, "is Serlina." Donovan smiled, taking the boy's hand in his own.
"Nice to meet you Fredrick, Serlina, names Donovan Shmautz. I don't suppose you know where the bathroom is do you? I kind-of just woke up."

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The outside of the hall was much more quiet the the inside. As much as Donovan wanted to go inside and socialize, he had a job to do. After coming through Alastor's portal, the family had been dropped somewhere in Ireland. With only one day before the coronation, it had been Donovan's job to get them all to Japan with time to spare. A tiring effort no doubt, he collapsed at a table as soon as they arrived at the banquet.
With an silent thunk, Donovan dropped his last Palla into the ground around the building. When the time for action came, Donovan's entrance would be the best, he'd made sure of that. With his weapons in place, the guardian went back inside.

The hall had become a lot more sociable since he left, the anticipation of the new guardians seemed to put everyone in a good mood. Even Trevor, who never seemed to enjoy anything, was gawking over a scrap of paper with the stupidest grin on his face. With light steps, he sneaked up behind his friend and glanced at the paper.
'Whenever you need, lightning will strike for you. For my biggest fan.'
"Seems like you got the autograph you wanted after all, huh Trev?" He said, ruffling the boy's hair. He motioned to the faerie who had woken him up earlier.
"If you're going for the complete set, let's get that guy's next. I'm not sure who he is but that little faerie isn't just a hologram."

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"Serlina, I can't talk to her. Look at how beautiful she is. She wouldn't want anything to do with me."
The blue faerie sighed, pushing her minuscule hand to the bridge of her nose.
"Freddy, you're going to be GUARDIANS with her in a few minutes. Don't you think you should get to know her better?" The boy's gaze drifted across to the topic of their conversation. Murasaki Eri. For him, it had been love at first sight. Her dainty white hair seemed to bounce with life, ruby lips kissed her pale skin, and ice blue eyes that seemed too warm whoever's heart they fell upon. Her refusal to hurt people was icing on the cake.
"I don't know Serlina, what if she thinks I'm weird."
"Fredrick I swear to god if you don't go talk to her, I will."

Fredrick swallowed hard. Serlina didn't make empty threats and putting her back in her box wasn't possible. Looks like he had no choice but to talk to the object of his affections. With small nervous steps, Fredrick made his way over to the other side of the room as Serlina his inside her box, eagerly listening.

"Uh, h-hi Murasaki." He managed to stammer out.
"So, tonight's the big night huh? I guess we'll be seeing a lot more of each-other...." An awkward silence fell over Fredrick as he clambered to find more words to say. A small pinch came from his arm, Serlina's doing no doubt.
"So I was w-wondering if you'd like to go out for dinner-LUNCH....yes...lunch."
Serlina didn't know whether to applaud or sigh in disappointment.

"Yes," the pink haired girl replied, her voice devoid of any semblance of feeling or empathy. In this she reminded this elder Alastor of Trevor, one of his more fearsome guardians back in his proper timeline. For some reason, that caused a jackal's grin to spread slowly across his face. "I am the current Guardian of the Mist for the Vongola."

Though he feigned a polite ignorance as to her true identity, Alastor had quite a bit of intel on this Vongola. Perhaps more than he did on any of the other guardians. This "girl" was a traitor to her species. One of their slaves.

Disgusting.

As the mist guardian completed her sentence, Alastor did something unexpected. In one moment, he was towering over her, but in the next, as if time itself had skipped a frame, he had her right hand firmly gripped in his own, and was actively pulling her towards him.

With the girl sufficiently caught off guard, the man kneeled slightly, careful not to wrinkle his expensive suit. Slowly, methodically, he placed his lips an inch or so away from her ear. He was close enough to feel the force of her presence against his cheek, to hear the air escape her lungs, to see the veins in her head pumping, to smell her scent—the rancid stench of a blood traitor.

"Can your eye see me for what I really am, Shaji Ai?" He whispered his rhetoric, pronouncing each syllable carefully. Delicately. Menacingly. He tightened his grip on her hand with intent to injure, noting with thinly veiled glee her Vongola ring pressing into the skin of his palm.

Easy. So easy it would be to take from this freak. To take her ring. To take her dignity. To take everything that she was and destroy it, as was his birthright. For, in the parallel timeline from which this particular Alastor hailed, he was head of the Rizzo famiglia and more. He was a planetary king—a god!—and people like this girl?

They were the peasants. They were the nothings. They were mere obstacles, standing in the shade of his glory. His power.

Alastor barely stifled a sigh upon releasing the girl's hand. She was not the Vongola whom he was brought here to accost. She was not his target.

"Disappear," he muttered, sauntering away with a princely air. And with that, he was done with her. To him, it was as if she hadn't even existed in the first place.

The entire incident lasted no more than a dozen seconds, Alastor once again straightening his tie with a series of curt professional gestures as he walked. This was the third time he'd straightened it since he'd arrived.

In front of the man was a gaggle of peasants, all blathering on about nothing. Three people soon caught his eye, however.

One was a boy, tall and slender, with light brown eyes and brown hair. This one seemed to be following him, albeit with a modicum of tact. Alastor immediately pegged him as this timeline's Star guardian. A powerful ally he will make one day, Alastor thought to himself. Another was a blue-eyed girl with short, choppy black hair styled in two high pigtails. Alastor recognized her as a younger version of his very own Comet guardian and little sister, Miku. She was as regal and powerful as a queen back in his timeline, but not so here. Not yet, perhaps. Alastor shook his head, though the gesture was barely noticeable. They even had the same lack of regard for formal attire.

It wasn't Miku that interested him, however. It was with whom she was speaking that had drawn his eye.

He was dressed like an urban miscreant, with short dirty blonde hair hidden under a skull cap of sorts. Hoodie. Jeans.

Alastor reveled as a certain feeling began to bubble up in him, eventually infecting every inch of his being with its tantalizing tingles.

He'd found his target.

However, before he could take another step, the lights in the room dimmed noticeably. Alastor tilted his head, peering over his shoulder. He noted hushed activity centralized around the gymnasium's stage. Seems like the Vongola's tech demo was about to begin.

With another curt, surgical gesture, Alastor straightened his tie for the fourth time that night. Hopefully the Rizzo guardians of this timeline were ready for what comes next.





Trevor grinned, gawking over the thin piece of paper between his fingers as Josei walked away. Okay, so he didn't really "grin" per say, but he curled back his lips and aligned his teeth like he'd seen people do in the movies. The "warmth" of his attempted facial gesture failed to defrost the expression of tranquil boredom that radiated from his eyes, but it was as close as the boy could get to a natural smile. Truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure how to react to what had just happened. Perhaps a frown would be in order. Or maybe a laugh? He imagined how Flandre might react. Instantly, his mind's eye presented him with a scene of bloodshed and death, with Flandre standing atop a mound of bodies, laughing maniacally.

Hmm, probably not the appropriate reaction there.

Whatever nervousness that overcame him in front of the lightning guardian had finally subsided, replaced by something entirely new. Was it adoration? Was this thankfulness? Maybe. Trevor wasn't sure, but, as he stared down at the autograph in his hands, he knew that he liked this "it," whatever it happened to be.

To have met one of the infamous Vongola was beyond surreal. Their tales were the stuff of legends back in the future, Trevor knew this first hand. His every spare moment outside of the C-Frame was spent reading up on the trials and adventures of the past families. Of all the literature available, he found the harrowing accounts of the Vongola's tenth and eleventh generations most impressive.

Their eleventh generation especially reminded him of the current Rizzo guardians in so many ways. And now he actually got to meet one... it was the boy's wildest fantasy come true. Surely he would treasure this autograph as he would his own life. He reread the words inscribed on the paper: Whenever you need, lightning will strike for you. So cool! Josei's handwriting was a bit messy, but Trevor didn't care.

Absorbed as he was in his own world, Trevor didn't notice someone approach from behind.

"Seems like you got the autograph you wanted after all, huh Trev?" The person said, ruffling the boy's hair. Immediately, Trevor had the knee-jerk urge to slap whomever's hand it was away. He clenched his eyes shut, hackles raised like a cat's, a sensation not unlike vertigo assaulting his senses. He didn't like people touching him, least of all his hair—he'd had enough prodding and probing as a lab rat earlier in his life.

Before he reacted, however, he noted that he recognized the speaker. He kinda recognized the hand on his head, too. Donovan, he said to himself, opening his eyes and relaxing his shoulders. He even let out a small content sigh. Donovan, the asteroid guardian, was special. He didn't mind a pat on the head from him.

"If you're going for the complete set," Donovan continued, "let's get that guy's next. I'm not sure who he is but that little faerie isn't just a hologram." The older boy said, motioning at someone else in the crowd.

Faerie? Trevor knew who he was instantly. "Vongola's rain guardian," he said aloud, folding Josei's autograph neatly in his hands and—

Trevor froze, looking down at his hands.

Empty.

The paper. The autograph. It wasn't there.

"To my biggest fan," Alastor mimicked Josei's voice, reading from the autograph he'd been given. "What a crock." With one hand, he balled the paper up and threw it on the floor. He then snapped his fingers twice, catching the attention of one of the ushers. The man that approached was much taller than the boy Alastor was. "Clean this up," the little guy commanded, pointing at the balled up piece of paper. "I don't want to see it anymore." The waiter gave him a sideways look for a moment before acquiescing.

Trevor only stared at what was in Alastor's other hand. It was the second autograph, the one Josei had given to him specifically. The one that was taken from him. Alastor was fast. No, he wasn't fast, it was different than that. On another level. Trevor didn't even realize it'd been taken from him until it was far too late. All he did was look away for a single moment...

The boy Alastor turned towards Trevor and Donovan, though he was focusing on Trevor. Effervescent red met icy gray as they locked eyes.

"Why do you want this crap anyway, Trev?" Alastor asked, waving the autograph in the air above them. "It's not like they're Rizzo or something. They're just a buncha forgotten nobodies that sucked and died." Alastor brought his hands together, his eyes going wide with fervor. "Not godly like us!"

When Alastor made a motion like he was going to rip the autograph in half, Trevor's hand shot out, gripping Alastor's forearm in a vice. For a moment, neither boy moved.

It was Trevor that spoke first.

"Give it back," he uttered, his icy expression never shifting for a second. There was no trace of anger in his voice. No outrage, wrath, or indignation. There was nothing, nothing but his words.

"These Vongolas you love so much are trash," Alastor pouted, pulling his arm in an attempt to break Trevor's grip. His tone that of a spoiled child not getting what he wanted. "You'll see how weak they are when we crush them!"

Slowly but surely, a dark gray-white glow began to emanate from Trevor's hand. There would be no time trickery where that autograph was concerned. "Give. It. Back."

Unbeknownst to the two boys, the lights in the room had dimmed noticeably. The Vongola's technology demonstration was about to begin, and they were about to blow the mission.

As his suspicions had confirmed, he'd been rejected without a second thought. Like a puppy that had lost its owner Fredrick ducked his head and prepared to slink back into the bustling crowd of the party when a loud and familiar voice rang through his mind.
"She's smiling you idiot!"
Smiling? That couldn't be. Every time he had played this scenario over in his head, she'd turned away disgusted. Could it really be the other way around? Peeking through his bangs, Fredrick's heart skipped a beat.

She wasn't just smiling, she was blushing.
"Lunch, dinner, your pick." she told him. "Just remember we need to be here in time for the event."

Soaring on cloud nine couldn't even begin to describe the young guardian's joy. In an unusual bout of whimsy, Fredrick began to dance. His feet moved with unnatural grace, grasping hold of his soon-to-be-date's hands and whisking her across the newly polished floor. Holding her close to his body, Fredrick twisted his partner around the room, dodging children and waiters with ease. It wasn't long before a circle of guests had opened around them, cheering at the performance. The short boy spun his partner, not noticing the pack of older women eyeing him hungrily. By the time he drooped his partner, her white hair strands of snow hanging from her skull, Fredrick was beaming as bright as the sun.

A small blue light burst through the crowd, hovering right beside her owner's face.
"Wow Fred, that was amazing! To be honest, I never thought you would take it THAT far but hey, it seems to have impressed everyone else." Fredrick looked up, quickly plopping his partner on her feet and bowing. His mumbled thank you's being quickly drowned out by the roar of the crowd. Pulling himself away from his adoring fans, he looked back to Eri.

"Sorry about that, I guess I overreacted..." Fingers fumbled with themselves as his nervousness returned. What had he done? Forcefully taking her into his grasp and parading her around the room in front of everybody. The lights began to dim and with it the cheers of the crowd. It seemed the presentation was starting soon.

"I-if you're serious about the date, I know a good..." Fredrick wracked his brain to remember the country escargot came from. America? No, they refuse to eat anything that isn't made from cows. England? No, they just eat potatoes. Canada? Do they even have any native food? "Western place if you'd like."

...............................................................................



Now Donovan didn't know much, if anything, about the Vongola. He'd usually skip the intel meetings to sleep or test out some new techniques. After all, knowing too much about your opponent takes out all the fun of fighting them. However it was hard to believe that the faerie kid was actually the Vongola's Rain guardian and this is coming from the guy who works with a paraplegic and a twelve year old. He just looked so...jittery. Like a little kid who's too afraid to go to the bathroom at night.

Then again Trevor won't go to the bathroom alone either.

Expecting to see the glint of excitement in his small friend's eyes, he was surprised to find the fire of burning hatred instead.
"Hey Trev, what's wr-"
"To my biggest fan," With a heavy sigh, Donovan turned to behold the great and righteous Alastor, give or take a few years. If you took Hitler, put him in a kid's body and gave him the ability to manipulate the fabric of time itself, you might have one fifth of the asshole that little Alastor is.

And this little asshole has stolen one of his friend's prized possessions.

"Why do you want this crap anyway, Trev? It's not like they're Rizzo or something. They're just a buncha forgotten nobodies that sucked and died." Little Al' lifted his arms with devilish glee, fully prepared to rip Trevor's memento in two. Donovan, however, was much quicker to the draw as Trevor's arm shot out and clamped down on the perpetrator, the little brown flames disappearing from his sleeve as quickly as they appeared.

Little Al's expression turned sour, desperately trying to wrench free from Trevor's grasp.
"These Vongolas you love so much are trash, You'll see how weak they are when we crush them!"
Suddenly, two hands pushed the two boys apart. In the blink of an eye, Donovan carefully folded the paper and handed it back to Trevor.

"Still picking fights, aren't we little guy?" he said, stepping between the two and grabbing Little Al by the collar. "I'm gonna give you a few pointers, alright? First off, saying we're going to crush the Vongola isn't the best way to stay undercover. Second," He jabbed a finger into Little Al's chest, the smile dropped from his face. "If you ever touch any of Trevor's shit again, I'll beat you so bad you'll think last time was a leisurely day at the spa. Understand?"

"Now, why don't you go ruin someone's life who isn't supposed to be fighting on your side."

"Now, why don't you go ruin someone's life who isn't supposed to be fighting on your side."

When Donovan released Alastor, Trevor pursed his lips, looking around. Luckily, they weren't talking loud enough to attract much attention to themselves, though Donovan was receiving some odd looks every now and then.

"I make some real douchebag friends in this future," Alastor hissed, brushing imaginary dirt off of his shoulder and straightening his collar. "Ya both suck. Fuck off." His use of obscene language wasn't surprising, at least not to Trevor. He never really got along with Alastor's younger self. None of the guardians did. Donovan even fought him once. It was Alastor himself who despised his younger incarnation most of all, and today Trevor was reminded why.

Still, the mission came before all things. In order to best the aliens and save humanity, this younger more brazen Alastor was necessary... at least for the moment, while the real Alastor regained his strength.

Turning up his nose, the kid Alastor brushed past the two Rizzo guardians as rudely as he dared, headed in the direction of a gaggle of suits. They were standing in a semicircle and had been clapping and cheering for something a while before, though they'd quieted down as the lights dimmed.

Trevor looked up at Donovan in silent thanks for a moment, taking care to place the autographed paper carefully in his back pocket before turning and facing the stage. Something was happening up front.

The time had come.

The girl was smiling and actually showing genuine laughter. It was either that, or she was real good at faking it. Though Cain didn't think it was an act at all. Not like some of the pompous 'queens' around him have put on. Though one thing he noticed, is that even though she stated that she hadn't been from around there, she hadn't gave up the location of her school. Which was weird because he was only playing about the school trip thing. If anyone was here, he'd expect members of a school to be the last ones. This wasn't that type of party. Though, because he didn't really care all that much about it, he let his suspicion slide and went on to the next subject. After hearing her relief about not being the only one in casual clothing, he smiled. "Yeah," he said, "I believe that if I'm going to wear something then it minus well be something that defines me. Not something people want to define me, but something that actually shows what type of person I am. I like these clothes because they do just that. That, and they're comfortable."

Cain shared a laugh with the girl after she asked him what he was there for. He was actually laughing at his hair keep, as he remembered Joel tell him that he minus well have kept his cap on. Blushing, and putting it back on his head, he nervously rubbed his nose. "Well. I guess you could say this was my party I suppose," he tried explaining in the most Casual way ever. "No, that's not right. Hmmm. Yeah okay. So you could definitely say this party is actually centered around me in a way. It's actually hard to explain. Dang. I wish I knew how." Never liking the idea of explaining his place as family head to people, every time he was forced to it would happen like this. Basically he would give people the dimmest explanation he could. One that wasn't actually an explanation, but a bunch of maybe's and sort of's. Though, she'd see him for who he really was in a couple minutes.

"Yeah. I'm sort of the Vongola boss. Hehehe."




Meanwhile, Joel went around the room, collecting information on who was here and who wasn't. It didn't take long for most of the family to get there, despite one person, but he knew she'd arrive soon.

"Joel," Someone called from behind him.

Turning around, Joel looked at the man responsible for funding all of this. Never in his days of knowing the man, had he ever trusted him. He looked like a snake of sorts with thin eyes and a crooked mouth. Reminded him of one of those mobsters from the old days, or movies that he'd watch about the old days. The biggest problem was that he wasn't Mafioso at all. Just a rich son of a gun. Though, since he had called him, he had no other choice but to talk to him. For saying nothing to a donator at a party funded by them would make the whole family look bad. Yet another instance where he wished he was Cain formed as he sighed to himself, forcing a smile on his lips. "Mr. Hie. What a pleasant surprise you coming all this way. Are you ready for the events kick off?" His voice was patterned to an alternate vibe and showed no tattle towards his thoughts.

"Hmph. Very much indeed I am my boy," The man cheered. "You know, not everyone can say that they were present for the 11th generation becoming an official team. Hehhe. How do you feel about the whole thing?"

"I don't know. I suppose it's not a big step for me." Joel actually felt the opposite, but he wasn't going to let some outcast to the family know he was feeling tired already.

"Oh really. Well I'm glad you don't see it as a problem. That means you can focus on the goal we paid towards. I want the 11th generation to be the best, as much as anyone else. I'm sure you know as well as I, what that means your main focus should be. Remember. We're all watching you. Rooting for you, if you will." The man of rich descent bowed and turned around. His whole movement style. His voice. It was a constant reminder to Joel why he had hated people like that. It was also a reminder that he was helpless around those types of people. People who reminded him that he was currently the fall guy. If anything happened with the 11th, it would be because he failed to groom them. He had always wondered, how can he be a boss to his boss. According to guidelines, the 11th sky guardian should have been in charge, but, because of his age, they decided he needed guidance. What the hell did that mean? Who was going to guide him? No one was alive or available to do it. No one besides from him. Thus it had been decided years ago, that Joel would be the one to teach him how to lead, so that he could lead, Joel would be the one to protect him, until he could protect himself. Joel was the fall guy. Until that kid got it right, Joel would always be the fall guy. Though, he never cared about what people would put on him. He knew it would never come to that. For he would give his life for Cain.

"Hey. Doctors." Joels voice was stern, as it had always been with doctors. Oh how he hated the doctors in the family. "Get to your designated areas. I just felt the last needed guess come in. We're starting in five. Someone tell the guards to stop frolicking and do their damn jobs. I swear if you guys don't act like this is your job, I'll sever you completely from it. Hurry up. Where the hell is Cain?!"

"Wow Joel." The familiar sound made Joel's head turn eagerly. He let a grin cross on his serious demeanor. "You sure have a lot of moxie shouting out orders. I might start thinking you're cool."

"Let it go Wall. I don't need you nitpicking at my leadership."

"Power hungry." Wall laughed.

"I might be. Hehehe. It doesn't matter where Cain is actually. He knows where to go when the lights turn off. We all should. You might want to stand back." Joels smile was cunning and threatening enough to make his own friend step back, but he still stuck out his tongue at Joels own cockiness.



The lights went off and the small noise of the video began to play. the head scientist on their team walked up on stage and began his speech. "Ahem. Yes. Is this mike on."

"I do belief it is." One man said from the crowd.

"Jolly good." The old man said. "Now I had a script written, but then I forgot that my eyes are no longer good enough to read with I'm afraid."

An awkward silence went around the room.

"Ahem. It was only a joke. Don't be afraid to laugh."

Cain was probably the only one who wanted to laugh, but held it in as he looked at Miku.

Awe damn. She's gonna find out in like two seconds anyway. I minus well just come out and say it.

"So yeah. I said I was sort of the Vongola leader. If you wouldn't mind, could I rephrase that?" He said trying to come to grips with telling her.

"Anyway," The scientist continued. "Yes. So as you know, we have brought you here for two reasons. One reason is for you to see the official unison of the new Vongola family guardians. The second, to here us give out description and showcase about the new box weapon projects we are working on. Our goal this time, is to make the 11th generation the best out of all the others combined. We want to secure that there will be no foe that the family can't beat. That is why, everything talked about in this room is confidential to the outside. You all know the repercussions for leaking information from events like these. However, before I give a teaser to the secrets of the new generation, I must call the Vongola head, along with his guardians, for his opening speech." As the man ended, he stepped back giving the floor to the head of the Vongola family. The head, who happened to be none other than Cain.

The boy stepped back, feeling sort of down that he was made to talk so soon. "I'm sorry I didn't come out right and tell you. I'll make it up to you after the party, okay?" Flashing a smile, he took his skates from his bag and placed them under his feet. He then jumped in the air jumping again, off what seemed like nothing but air, leaving fire in the area he bounced off of. He continued doing this two more times, making the guest heads turn upward to be focused on him. The fire coming from his feet wasn't hot to feel threatened of, but some people still watched nervously at the sight. He made it to the area right over the podium and flipped backwards landing and rolling around the microphone box hold, steam coming off of his feet. Looking at the head guy in charge he nodded and went to the mic. He was nervous as could be when all of the peoples eyes were on him, but he didn't show it. He probably wasn't who they were expecting to see, but soon his charming words and polite attitude wooed their opinions.

"I want to be the first one to thank everyone for attending this event. I'm sure that all the staff and my guardians feel the same way about all of you being here today. At first when my father died, I was a little skeptical about taking his place as head of the family, but with your support and the support of family and friends, I can now, one hundred percent, guarantee, that in my hands and the hands of the other guardians, the Vongola will be just as good in all the years that I'm alive, as it was when my father was."

The crowd all clapped at his words, for they could tell that he had really meant them. Their original opinion of him wavering.

"Thank you. I really appreciate it. However, the face of the new Vongola, doesn't belong to be alone. Without further adieu, I'd like to invite all the family guardians to the stand."

With that, he waited as Joel and the rest of the gaudiness came on stage with him. Joel instantly disappeared from where he was, leaving nothing but a hint of light and a crackling noise where he once stood. Instantly he appeared behind Cain and placed a hand on his shoulder, to show his approval at the boys opening speech. Once Joel was on stage, Cain waited for the rest of the guardians to come on stage before continuing.

Miku grinned slightly as Cain blushed before pulling on his beanie. "Well. I guess you could say this was my party I suppose,". Miku tilted her head slightly as the boy began to fumble out an answer to her question."No, that's not right. Hmmm. Yeah okay. So you could definitely say this party is actually centered around me in a way. It's actually hard to explain. Dang. I wish I knew how.", Miku chuckled slightly, before shaking her head up at him. The kid was cute when he was explaining things. though that smile was soon wiped from her face as Elizabeth repeated the cold words, "Enemy", inside her head once more.

"Yeah. I'm sort of the Vongola boss. Hehehe.", Miku's head shot up in shock at Cain's next words. Elizabeth was right, this boy was her enemy... to bad, he was nice... Miku's eyes darkened slight and Elizabeth moved underneath as their eyes stared at the boy now in front of them, the eleventh.

Miku didn't really notice a man had started a speech. Silently she watched Cai- Elizabeth cut her off again, he was the eleventh, they couldn't be one first name bases... "So yeah. I said I was sort of the Vongola leader. If you wouldn't mind, could I rephrase that?", and then Miku laughed again. The eleventh was just repeating himself and it was cute... She could feel that tugging feeling at the back of her head as Elizabeth tried to take control again. She would have to give in soon... but a few more seconds wouldn't hurt... right?

"I'm sorry I didn't come out right and tell you. I'll make it up to you after the party, okay?", she watched him flash a smile and amusement lit her eyes slightly as they watched the Eleventh make his way, quite dramatically, to the podium. Then the humor was gone and in their place flashed eyes as cold as ice. The school uniform became nothing but a pair of dark shorts and a star bikini top, covered by a deep blue and white cloak. The short pigtails grew longer and fell around the girls shoulders. Elizabeth stared the Eleventh with cold and calculating eyes.

With one last backwards glance curtsy of Miku's lingering personality, Elizabeth made her way towards her little brother. Unlike Miku who seemed absolutely clueless about most of her family, It was hard for the other side of her to pick up that Trevor was her relative. She moved to stand next to Trevor and Donoven almost silently, watching her older brother walk away. "Trevor, Donovan. How it Alastor handling the situation?", the words came out detached as her face remained stoic. "Is everyone prepared for the next course of action?", This question she directed towards Donovan, believing the older boy to have a better understanding of the situation considering she did not place much faith in the reckless Alastor they had now been graced with.

Miku forgot things but Elizabeth was different all together. Not simply a split personality, Elizabeth was the watcher. She knew what had been, what is and what was to come though she held no control over the situation except to watch again from the body of the Comet guardian. The words, "Observer.", had never been more true.

Hildegarde twirled in her maroon dress, its tails spinning like the wisps of a mighty cyclone ready to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting rural town. Around and around she spun, slowly making her way across the elaborate tiling and embroidery beneath her feet like a ballerina, as elegant as a soaring eagle and as mighty as a raging dragon. With a curt click of her heel, she arrested her angular momentum, coming to a full stop near the edge of the balcony. She fastened her hands to the banister with a purpose, each of her fingers clamping down upon the sleek metal rail in a sequential, oddly alluring fashion.

She currently stood upon a small ornate balcony overlooking a massive convention center of some sort, filled with hundreds of moving bodies. The building belonged to the Vongola mob family. From the frantic scurrying of the urbane mafioso and dapper businessmen below, she surmised that the main event was about to get started.

Hildegarde threw a timid glance over her shoulder, a sheepish grin adorning her face. Behind her was a large steel door, and on it in bold red letters read:



She ogled the door with a dreamy expression plastered upon her face. Her lover was a mere staircase away from her. Between Donovan's momentum manipulation and sitting through the constant planning and rehearsal, she hadn't really found a chance to talk to him since they'd arrived in this backwards time period—at least, not alone like she wanted. Honestly, it seemed like her lover always found ways to avoid her. If she were a more impressible girl, perhaps that'd make her feel some type of way. It wasn't like they were technically lovers or anything... well, at least not yet. A girl can dream, mind you.

All she had to do now was walk through that door and climb those stairs and she could be in his arms.

Forever his!

Hildegarde took a step backwards, away from the edge of the balcony and towards the door, fully intending to reach for its handle. As with all things in her life, all she had to do was pull and it would obey her will. It would open for her. All she had to do was pull...

But she stopped, frozen, one hand still on the railing, the other suspended in mid grasp, outstretched, reaching for the door as if it were the cure for cancer teetering on the edge of an endless abyss.

In that moment, two things occurred to her simultaneously. First, Alastor had given her a mission, and Alastor's orders were absolute. He wouldn't much appreciate her presence with such a monumental task left unfinished. Second, three Vongola mafioso had gone through the very same door not ten minutes ago. No doubt Alastor had had his share of fun with them, and under no circumstances would Hildegarde allow her brand new high top dress to be besmirched with blood stains.

No matter how thoroughly you wash linens, the inky spots never really come out.

With a sigh of defeat, Hildegarde turned her gaze forward, leveling a frown at the sight in front of her. She stood towards the top of a massive convention center-style auditorium filled to the brim with walking talking suits babbling and bustling about. Among the assorted guests, she could easily pick out her Rizzo compatriots. They stuck out among the riffraff like sore thumbs.

There was Flandre, of course, easily spotted by her "equipment". Technically, Hildegarde was supposed to be down there along side her, wheeling her around like some sort of tacky chauffeur. Hah! Alastor would have to give the command himself before she would reconsider.

By the look in Flandre's eyes, she was riling herself up about something. Following her gaze, she spotted another Rizzo. The Comet guardian, Miku Rizzo. Interesting.

Hildegarde leaned forward over the railing as elegantly and daintily as she dared, using her hand as a makeshift visor in order to block out the glare of the halogen lamps directly above her. Even though the lights had been dimmed, she was close enough to them that they still managed to partially blind her. She noted out of her peripheral vision, and with thinly veiled revulsion, a few men on the stage below gawking at her.

With a motion as suave as a movie star's and twice as classy, Hildegarde reached into her voluptuous creamy-brown cleavage, removing a small bright red object, spherical in shape. It was a simple piece of hard candy. Without missing a beat, she popped the candy into her mouth, turning her nose up at the undesirables directly below.

If Alastor hadn't ordered there be no casualties, she might've given them the show of their lifetimes.

Having lost her original focus, Hildegarde, her hand still acting as a makeshift visor, rescanned the room, looking for Miku's signature pigtails. Instead, she spotted Alastor. Well, one of his images. Timeline clones, of a sort. Such an amazing and spectacular trick, as expected of her Alastor, an Adonis among men. Hildegarde had to physically stop herself from swooning at the thought of three Alastors existing simultaneously.

The Alastor she spotted was the younger version of her beloved Alastor, a positively adorable little boy of around 12 years of age. Hildegarde placed her free hand over her chest.

"Be still my beating heart!" She muttered to herself, a frenetic monsoon of fanatical frenzy baying at the edges of her voice.

Little Alastor was walking off, away from...

Hildegarde squinted, bringing her makeshift visor closer to her eyes. In Alastor's wake were two fellow Rizzos: Donovan, one of the fastest men she'd ever met, and Trevor, the cute little kid who was deep on the creepy side with a face that rarely shifted in expression or countenance. The two were looking a bit standoffish, though for what reason she could not deduce. Then again, those two always looked standoffish. They always stuck together, like cluster bombs.

Hildegarde flashed a petite smile, fanning her face with her hand in mock chagrin. Cluster bombs were her favorite type of death machines after all, and just the thought of them brought a smile to her face.

With another sigh, she returned to her task, searching through the crowd with her eyes. Things had quieted down considerably, and the Vongolas had begun to take the stage. Their boss, known in the history books as the "King of Flames," took center stage and started speaking.

Hildegarde stifled a cackle.

That kid boss and his cronies were nothing compared to the Rizzo dynasty. Nothing.

And then Hildegarde's eyes landed on whom she'd been searching for the entire time. Her target, as ordered by Alastor.

Her goal.

Hildegarde's eyes grew large, her pupils contracting, her lips peeling back from her teeth. The girl walked onto stage, seemingly none the wiser to Hildegarde's malicious presence several meters above her. She was just as the briefing on the Vongola family had described her. 150 centimeters tall with straight short pink hair and matching eyes.

Those beady little eyes.

The girl who had a ring, something that Alastor desired. And whatever Alastor desired, Alastor would get. Hildegarde would see to it.

Personally.

"Trevor, Donovan." Trevor looked to the side to see Miku, though she seemed a bit different than usual. Her posture was less relaxed, her eyes more alert, her expression serious. He looked her in the eye as she addressed Donovan, who was standing by his side. "How it Alastor handling the situation?" The words came out detached as her face remained stoic. "Is everyone prepared for the next course of action?"

"Elizabeth," came a resonant baritone somewhere over Trevor's shoulder, as if in answer to her questions. He turned his head, recognizing the voice instantly.

"Alastor," Trevor said, almost in deference.

Alastor, tall and immaculately suited, sauntered over to stand between Trevor and Elizabeth such that the four formed a line of sorts. His forearms were locked behind his back in a reverse arm-fold, his hands gripping his arms at the elbow. He seemed at peace, like the eye of a hurricane idling overhead.

He nodded in response to the boy. "Trevor." He gave Donovan a brief nod as well. "Donovan."

Judging from the commotion near the stage area, more of the Vongola must've appeared. From some of the screams, Trevor guessed that a very special Vongola had appeared. Sure enough, after a few moments, she walked onto stage.

Nami Gokudera. Vongola Storm guardian. Also known as: Tempest, from the critically acclaimed (in this time) band Blast of Tempest. Trevor almost bit his tongue.

WIthout a doubt he had to have her autograph... by any means.

"My younger incarnation will handle himself properly," Alastor said, turning to face Elizabeth. He spoke loud enough to be heard, but soft enough not to draw attention. "And from what I can discern," he continued, looking up towards a balcony above the stage. A woman of dark hair and brown complexion was standing there, looking impatient and generally flummoxed. "It would seem that we are all in position."

"What now?" Trevor asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. There was a surreal type of excitement in the air. So heavy was the feeling that it was almost palpable. The adult Alastor smirked, showing his canines. To Trevor he looked like a vicious predator that'd finally found a chance to bury its fangs... and that wasn't all that far off.

Some part of Trevor, perhaps what remained of his inner child, tossed and turned uncontrollably in his abdomen like a cacophony of raging butterflies. It got to the point where he had to place a hand on his stomach in an effort to calm it, a perplexed look adorning his face. For but the briefest of moments, Trevor felt as if he didn't belong here, in this room. Or in this city. Or on this planet. For a fraction of a second, he wanted nothing more than to go back to his own time, back to fighting enemies that he knew.

That he hated.

The invaders. Earth's adversaries. They were the only reason the Rizzo were forced to travel back to the past like this.

These Vongolas, on the other hand, were not invaders. They were not the Adversary. That meant they weren't necessarily his enemies... right?

The prospect of doing battle with someone that wasn't an "enemy" but simply a "target"—someone that wasn't to be killed, just sufficiently accosted—didn't make sense to the boy. In fact, it positively confused him. When he fought as a soldier of the planetary military superstructure of the future, it was always to the death: either his, or the adversary's. There was no inbetween. No "sparing of life". Every battle had its designated casualty quota.

It was for this reason that, during the briefing, Alastor had commanded Trevor stay out of this initial skirmish. The goal was never the deaths of the Vongola. This battle was simply a quest for their rings, not their lives, and so was not a domain in which Trevor could reliably operate.

C-Frames are machines of war and annihilation, after all.

Alastor's answer came without hesitation, snapping Trevor out of his stupor. "You stay put," he commanded, referring to the boy. "I do not yet want them to know that with us we have someone who can do what you do, understood?" His voice positively echoed power, reverberating in Trevor's eardrums—though perhaps he simply imagined it. For his part, Trevor nodded in understanding and acquiescence, long since having gotten used to the elder Alastor's seemingly-backwards polysyllabic manner of speech.

Alastor unfurled his hands from behind his back, instead placing them inside his pockets. "As for the rest of us," he began, glancing over at Donovan. "Shall we begin?"

Joel watched as each of his fellow guardians walked, ran, and waltzed on stage. He didn't know if being a little too flashy would make his group seem a little childish to some people. However, he also didn't care. It wasn't as if the older fools who would look down on them for their display or in some of their cases, how loud and outspoken they were, could actually take their birthrights away. Though, Joel had to admit himself, that some of the banter being thrown around was unnecessary, but he decided to ignore it. Most of the people around him were still children after all. As for Cain, even though he had his mic taken from him by his guardians he still looked as if he was having a good time. This comforted the man a little, seeing his friend, who was more of a brother to him, smiling. It was hard for most people to tell, but Cain was having some problems getting use to his father not being around. It also didn't help that people kept on asking to talk to him, only to remind him of his position. It was because of those type of people that Joel kept his mouth closed when he looked down upon something. At least when it came to the boy. He had enough problems. Though, once Nami entered the building, some familiar faces were giving Joel a look of disappointment. He sucked on his teeth, not at her, but at the sleazy old men and woman who looked at him so. He wasn't the boss of the Vongola, so why was he the one to always be stared at. He wished he had been born at least two years later than his actual birth. That had to be the reason everyone looked at him so. Though, seeing as Cain would be an adult in two years, he wouldn't have to wait long before the eyes and ears of people were off of him. Though, what type of image would he give to himself if he just did nothing when asked to do something. This was a formal event after all, and so far, most of the top people in the family were informal. He sighed and put his hand on Cain's shoulder. "Hey. I don't think it'd look right if I corrected her here in front of all these people," he whispered.

"Huh. Naw," Cain laughed. "She's cool right? That's just her being her."

"People are watching though. Remember what type of party this is Cain."

To those words, Cain nodded and hopped off stage, starting his walk towards Nami. He kept his hands in his pocket and a determined look on his face as he approached her and the girl she was signing the CD for. "Hey. Let me see that Mic again for a sec," He said, grabbing the mic without much more warning than that. "Yes. Hello again. So It's come to my attention that some people don't like how the new Guardians go about doing things. Well let me tell you this. You all can go shove it up your....."

Before he was able to say anything else, Joel flashed over to him taking the microphone away. "What are you doing?"

"Telling it how it is. What are you doing?"

"Stopping you from acting like a fool."

"I don't know. The only fool I see here is you. You use to be more fun. What happened to the Joel I knew when we were kids huh?"

"He grew up," Joel stated with a glare, "and sooner or later, you're going to have to too. Boss or not, there are images we have to keep."

"Well you know what? I don't even want to be the stupid Vongola boss. So you can take this ring and shove it too. Ugh...Errr." Cain struggled to take the ring off of his finger but, for some reason, it seemed to be stuck. Not that it mattered much, for soon his efforts would be halted.

SMACK!!!!

The area grew silent. No one had expected to see what they had just saw. Not even Joel expected it. Though, expected or not, there was a red mark currently on Cains face, and Joel's hand was crossed. Yes. It happened. With a fast movement and not thinking at the time, Joel had smacked Cain across his face. He only kept his shocked look for a while before going back to his natural frown. "Hmph. We'll talk about this later," He said looking at the boy who was still in shock. "We'll also have a talk," he then said to Namine before walking away.

Cain, on the other hand, had different plans. As soon as Joel began to turn away, he rand for him and tackled him down to the ground. Though, because of the mans size he was quickly put on his own back. Of course, he got one fist across Joel's face before the man held his arms down. His tried moving his feet under the man, sparks following them. Joel couldn't believe he was going to try using his flame against him, but just in case his beliefs were for naught, he flashed to the side of Cain, who quickly got back on his feet ready to attack Joel once more.

"Cain. You should stop," Joel said calmly, nodding slightly to a crowd of people staring at them. "Now's not the time."

With that said, Cain had to admit the man had a point, but also didn't want to stop fighting him. Though, even he knew that this was an important event and decided to walk away. Well, not only walk away, but leave the room entirely.

One person tried to walk up to Joel and discuss what had just happened, but stopped in his tracks after being glared at by the man. "Continue the party," He said rubbing his cheek, giving a slight smile towards how hard the kid had hit him.

After parting ways with Miyamoto Keiko, Sora went to go change into his normal attire and grab his skateboard that he left outside. "It feels sooooooooo good to be out of that godforsaken suit! Now I just need to make sure Alastor doesn't see me," he yelled out. He began entering the Vongola Headquarters again.

"Sir, do you have any ID? You're not dressed for this affair?" a security officer asked.

He made eye contact with Sora, "Welcome Sir Sora, the skateboarding champion!"

"Who am I better than?" Sora asked.

"Tony Hawk of course! Please proceed sir!" exclaimed the officer.

This pattern of ID questioning with officers continued to happen on his way to headquarters, they made eye contact, let him through, no issue, no problem. Walking into room where the Vongola affair was located, he thought about Miyamoto again. 'Ah why do I have to fight a pretty girl? That's not fair! I mean, she's about my height, tan skin, and,' he continued these thoughts while blushing. However, a sight before Sora's eyes caused him to stop his train of thought and lead him to immediate shock.

It was Namine Gokudera, Vongola Guardian of Storm walking directly towards Flandre. 'Oh my God! Flandre will kill her! Sora begun speed walking in her direction and he saw Flandre glance side to side looking for the other Rizzo's, but Sora was too late. Nami opened her mouth to talk to her. 'Now Flandre, please don't attack her yet, please don't slice her up,' he slowly chanted to himself. To his surprise, Flandre kept her composure and conversed with Namine. 'Whew, that went well,' he thought.

He then saw the UniDecimo take the Mic from Namine and say into the mic, "Yes. Hello again. So it's come to my attention that some people don't like how the new Guardians go about doing things. Well let me tell you this. You all can shove it up your..." and the Mic was taken.

Sora chuckled at this and said, "Now that's my kind of guy. I'd do something like that if Alastor wasn't here. I heard the Vongola head skates too, doubt he could beat my skateboarding skills though."

SMACK!!! silence filled the room after witnessing the event between the Vongolas. 'I'll just ease my way over here,' he thought. He saw this opportunity while everyone was focused on Cain, and Joel to stealthy position himself closer to the crowd near the stage where the remaining Vongola guardians were located.




"My name is Flandre, but I wouldn't mind being called Flan," replied the girl in the wheelchair.

"Alright, nice to meet you Flan!" exclaimed Nami as she begun writing Flan on the CD cover.

Nami extended her right hand to give Flandre the CD.

"You have a very nice ring, Nami. I'd love to have a ring just like yours, Nami. Forgive me if I try to take it, Nami."

For a moment, Nami paused looked directly into her amber eyes. She was smiling as if she was joking, but the look in her eyes and the repetition of her name 'Nami' made her seem completely serious. Nami then thought: 'Okay, that is pretty weird. I'm sure she meant that as a compliment somehow.'

Nami put on an false idol smile and said, "Heh heh, you're a funny one Flan. Thanks for the compliment. I can't give you mine, but I'm sure there's others rings out there."

Nami handed her the CD, but before she was able to turn around to head back on stage she heard, "Hey. Let me see that Mic again for a sec."

She winked and said, "Of course Cain!"

"Yes. Hello again. So it's come to my attention that some people don't like how the new Guardians go about doing things. Well let me tell you this. You all can go shove it up your....."

"What are you doing?" asked Joel as he took the Mic away.

Nami chuckled at this. 'Boys will be boys,' she thought, but then it begun to escalate between Joel and Cain.

SMACK!!!!

Nami saw the red mark on Cain's face, and Joel standing above him. She silently prayed that it wouldn't continue. "Hmph. We'll talk about this later," said Joel to Cain. "We'll also have a talk," Joel told Nami.

An angry expression was shown on her face. "That was a bit much Joel!" exclaimed Nami forgetting that she was at this affair. Cain, then tackled Joel, they went back and forth while Nami watch them thinking about had badly they all looked this moment. Eventually they both regained their senses and stopped.

Nami was tempted to an extent to follow Cain after he stormed out, but after she heard Joel say, "Continue the party," to a man approaching him. She then realized that the next best move would be to do damage control at this affair instead of heading back to a stage without the Vongola UniDecimo. There is now a pretty tense environment in the room for the attendees after witnessing such an event so she decided that as an idol and Vongola Guardian, she should be able to calm the crowd.

"Attention everyone!" she yelled with her announcer/singer voice while putting on the biggest of smiles. "We will be continuing with Shaji Ai's presentation! Would you please give a round of applause and your attention towards the stage!"

Accepting the CD with an outstretched hand, Flandre examined it in her hand. She held the edges by her fingertips, but experimented by putting her index finger through the hole in the middle like a doughnut. "Heh heh, you're a funny one Flan. Thanks for the compliment. I can't give you mine, but I'm sure there's others rings out there." Flandre looked back up at Nami to return a smile of gratitude, but frowned as soon as she saw hers. A false sort of smile she recognized all to well, the kind one put on the faces of children's dolls. This threatening frown, however, was quickly replaced with a someone sinister narrow-eyed grin. "Indeed, Nami..." she mumbled.

Flandre continued to examine the delicate CD with care, as if she were examining a jewel, but experimented with it as if it were a toy she didn't know how to use. Such a nice girl. She couldn't wait to play around with her, perhaps a little more than roughly. She'd have to really bring out the potential the toy had, even if she had to break it, if she wanted to experience her expression.

Yet for some reason, a tiny voice inside Flandre spoke up, a voice she didn't recognize. It screamed Wrong! Flandre ignored it entirely.

---

Ai, though did not show it at all, did not approve of Cain's behavior. What sparked it, Ai wasn't really aware, as Ai had always made the basic assumption that anything a Vongola ring bearer does will be for what they believe is beneficial toward the family or their goals, not that even the guardians, with the exception of Ai, really knew what their intentions were. She decided at some point it would be critical that she brought the guardians and the boss up to speed. In fact, she wasn't entirely aware about what they all knew about her and wondered if any of them were even aware that she was an alien.

Although, the lightning guardian, Joel, seemed to be more sensible toward the situation and attempted to stop the boss from offending a lot of people. His course of action when he felt it was out of hand, however, was questionable, yet Ai didn't think she had the right to question a human's judgement of justification. It seemed to be a rather vague concept that decided what actions may be taken against somebody depending on their own. Certainly, humans didn't have a natural sense for what is essentially a form a karma, Ai would know, having found ways to use the human body that most humans don't know of, like the ability to slow one's heartbeat, something a famous hitman known as "Moretti the Murdered" was fabled to be able to do. Either way, Ai decided that because Joel appeared more sensible that what he did was justified, at least to him, and in the future he will be easier to consult. Sensible, logical people were people that Ai was used to working with, especially because she considered herself the most sensible and logical.

Ai continued to stand as still as a statue on the stage. Only her third eye, cloaked only through illusion, was darting around all over the place. It looked toward the sun and cloud guardians, perhaps deciding by their actions or reactions if they were sensible and logical. Ai then looked toward the storm guardian. "Attention everyone!" she said, drawing the attention of the uneasy crowd "We will be continuing with Shaji Ai's presentation! Would you please give a round of applause and your attention towards the stage!" Another sensible person, noted. Ai wondered if the boss was the only insensible one. It was certainly possible, but unlike her, he couldn't be replaced so easily. Ai, taking the center of the stage, waited until the crowd settled again.

Her eyes swept across the room. Ai had been identifying whom the possible threats were, the Rizzo family, and identified five whom grouped together. Along with the man, Alastor, there had been a younger one whom was very similar, siblings or possibly the same person if time travel was considered. With him was a boy, younger than this body of hers, a young man with short blonde hair and a girl with jet black hair and a serious expression. There may have been more, maybe half, twice or three times as many, yet Ai had not identified them. She did pay some attention a young woman eyeballing her from a balcony (not that she saw her with her own two eyes) rather expectantly. Ai wasn't aware of any particular reason why she was so special to other people, at least compared to the other guardians. The fact that she was probably the youngest meant nothing to her. The young woman must have some sort of special intel, at least on her true identity.

Ai was mostly worrying about (or at least what pattern of thinking was equivalent to worrying) when the Rizzo's would make their attack, which would likely be for the rings. Ai was thinking it may have been while they were together, seeing as they were apart before, yet now she was realizing it was probably better for them to stay together as they may have been easier to pick off while they were apart. Maybe they hadn't attacked earlier to confirm their targets. By that logic, there had to be at least seven of them, and she picked out five, six if balcony woman was included. Whether they were mobilizing into some sort of pre-planned position or not, Ai couldn't tell. She could only continue as normal until it did happen. Unfortunately, she hadn't the opportunity to warn the boss and the other guardians yet, but perhaps she would when she was finished.

The room began to darken as images began to project behind her. Once Ai had the full attention on herself, she began to speak quite automatically, and unfortunately, uninterestingly. Images, diagrams and words appeared behind her in relation to her speech.

"I thank the storm guardian Namine for the transition and I thank the audience for your patience and your attention. As we have announced, we will be revealing our new field in technology of which we hope you will all heavily invest in, for the good of not just yourselves, but all of humankind."

"An old philosopher had once thought that everything in the universe, including the human body, was made up of fire, water, wind and earth. In theory, the human body had the ability to make use of all four inside themselves. While we have proven to consist mostly of water, produce our own wind and give and gain nutrients from the Earth, we've not proven the ability to utilize fire within ourselves. This philosopher, of course, has been proven wrong in this way, yet what Vongola's scientists have uncovered a way to create a flame out of sheer will, as if it were magic. Not only have we learned the properties of the flame, but we have learned how to harness its energy, an energy that has the ability to alter normal laws of conservation of energy and the ability to manipulate mass in mysterious ways."

Ai then went into a long visually-aided presentation, filled with diagrams and photos of tests and mathematical formulas about how the emotional impulses created by will or ambition created a special surge in the 'wavelength' in a person's body, similar the chi, and can be used in conjunction with a device like a ring to emit a special flame. The test photos were made up, of course, considering the Vongola had been working on this technology for decades, they just needed to give the appearance that it was a completely new concept, the concept of deathperation flames, so people wouldn't be suspicious about why they would keep such a groundbreaking technology to themselves. Of course, anybody from the mafia would be able to recognize that it was all false, but the Vongola remained extremely influential in the mafia, as it always had.

Ai explained all about the different types of flames and their properties, along with more photos, stuff that any hitman seemed to be required to know to survive in the underground. She got into the concept of how the rings worked, as they were proven to be the easiest, most effective and most convenient way to project the flames and how the "purity" of a flame changed depending on the quality of the ring and the strength of the user's resolve.

"Yet, it is possible that there are flames beyond the ones we've discovered. Because the possibilities for different possible flame types are too vast to calculate, we based the names of the seven flames we've discovered so far on the Sky. These flames also have connections with the Guardians the Vongola's pride is in, as it is their rings that have been discovered to produce the purest of each flame.

Then, Ai got into box weapons. She claimed that Vongola scientists had invented and gave credit only to one of the original inventors, Koenig. This too, was required. Ai explained exactly how the exotic energy created from deathperation flames can be used to fuel special anti-mass converters from strange to regular matter regardless of mass or density and how it can only be kept working while the flames continued to combust and how even complex chemical patterns could be replicated in strange mass, including simple workings of the brains of animals. Ai then explained all about different kinds of box weapons they've been working on, such as animal boxes, battery boxes, storage boxes and special flame-based tools and "box-tools", continually stressing upon the various possibilities for purposes, yet putting extremely little emphasis on ways they could be used to harm. Humans are extremely against a new form of science if it is developed for the sake of creating deadly new weapons, yet they often ended up creating weapons using new technologies anyhow, such as nuclear fission in the past used for both energy production and deadly toxic bombs. That was their goal.

"And now," Ai said, yet she didn't change her tone of voice to indicate the presentation would go in a different direction, "I shall now demonstrate the use of deathperation flames and box tools.

"Western sounds good. But first, we have a presentation to attend to." Fredrick was rendered nonplussed by her acceptance of his offer. All he could do was stare, partly in shock and partly in disbelief, at the beauty before him.

Was this real life, or was he just imagining this?

Despite Serlina’s helpful hints, he still couldn’t fully wrap his mind around the fact that she’d actually accepted. She said yes! It got to the point where Serlina had to forcefully nod Fred’s head for him in response, which made an awkward situation even more so. Not waiting around for a verbal reply, Eri made her way away from him and through the crowd as smoothly as melted chocolate. He watched her go, his eyes swaying and bouncing as he nervously gazed after her.

Cain’s voice snapped him out of his trance-like torpor, rolling across the room like a lion’s roar.

”Without further ado, I'd like to invite all the family guardians to the stand."

Oh. So that’s why Eri made her way forward. Doh.

“Go follow her, Fred!” Came Serlina’s high-pitched voice inside of his head, causing him to flinch in surprise. “You’re supposed to be up there!”

“But…” Fredrick took a step forward, but then froze, eyeing the stage. Most of the other guardians had made their way to stand behind Cain. Wouldn’t it look really bad if he were one of the last ones to walk on stage? In front of all these people… How humiliating…

“Fred. Hey!”

Fredrick looked from side to side as furtively as he dared. Was everyone looking at him? Did they all know he was supposed to be up there right now? He sighed, slinking back into the crowd despite the quivering blue light that buzzed around his head in staunch protest.

Of course they knew.

Whole minutes passed with Fredrick standing amidst the crowd, gazing up at the stage. Even Serlina had become silent. Cain and the others continued to take turns speaking on stage. Even Nami, in all her pop-star glory, eventually made her way up. It wasn’t long before she had the crowd eating out of the palm of her hand, tossing things this way and that. Still, despite his best efforts, Fredrick couldn’t find the courage to step up. It was just too much. Maybe tomorrow. He thought, reassuring himself.

Suddenly, Cain hopped off stage, though Fredrick couldn’t through the thickets of the crowd and quickly lost sight of him. Suddenly:

"Yes. Hello again. So It's come to my attention that some people don't like how the new Guardians go about doing things. Well let me tell you this. You all can go shove it up your—"

Fredrick slapped his hands over his ears, his face turning slightly red. No Cain, no! Don’t say it! He could only imagine the horrified look on the crowd’s faces. It just made him want to huddle up and disappear from the room entirely. After a few seconds of deafening silence, Fredrick sighed in sweet relief. Judging by how quickly Joel had flashed off stage, he must’ve stopped Cain before he said something mean. Good. Good!

”Fredrick,” came that voice in his head again. Serlina. He looked over to his left and saw her fluttering about. Instead of meeting her eye, he looked down at his shoes.

“Y-yes?” He muttered dejectedly.

“They need you up there, you know.” At the mention of his friends needing him, Fredrick’s ears perked up, but he didn’t otherwise move. He still stared down at his shoes. ”Joel sure could use your help with Cain,” Serlina continued, fluttering about his head like an orbiting moon. “Everyone knows you’re the best at calming the boss down.” Slowly but surely, a steely sense of confidence began to build in Fredrick’s chest in tune with her words. Like an all-encompassing warmth, it surged through him, uplifted him, empowered him. He raised his head, a newly confident sheen radiating from his eyes.

His friends needed his help, and he would not let them down!

SMACK!!!!

Fredrick paused mid-step, the sound reverberating throughout the entire complex, as loud and piercing as a hellfire missile. Without wasting another second, Serlina shot up into the air, overlooking the crowd. After a moment, she returned to Fredrick’s side.

“What happened?”
“Cain!” She hissed, keeping her voice down.
“What?” Fredrick said, his newly mastered confidence ebbing. He could hardly hear her.
“Cain!” She bellowed in his head. “Joel just slapped Cain! In front of everyone! And now they’re fighting!”

Fredrick’s eyes grew wide. Seems he was too late… but perhaps he could still be of some assistance!

Taking the initiative, Fredrick began moving through the crowd, uttering “excuse me” and “sorry” at every turn as Serlina directed him towards his comrades. Unfortunately, his efforts were cut short when he bumped into someone.

A surge of fear rushed through him as he turned to apologize.

“Sorry!” He exclaimed in a hushed voice. “I wasn’t looking where…” Fredrick’s voice trailed off as he noted the absence of a person. There was no one in front of him. Then what did I bump into?

”Look down!” Serlina commanded in his mind. He complied, looking down to see a very peeved child staring back up at him. If looks could kill, this kid would have not only massacred poor Fredrick, but his entire ancestry as well.

Oops.

“Uh, I’m really really sorry about that,” he said, bowing at the waist as deeply as he could manage while being cramped by the crowd. “Are you okay?”

The child, a boy of around 12 or 13, simply stared. He was dressed in a sharp little suit, though the look was ruined by his dress shirt, which wasn’t tucked in and hung lazily out from the bottom of his suit jacket. The kid had the whole “preppy” vibe going for him, with stringy black hair that looked like it’d been neatly combed and parted by his mother.

“Hey, douchebag,” the kid said accusatorily, giving Fredrick a slight shove after curtly straightening his collar with both hands. “Do you know who I am? Are you trying to die? Watch where the fuck you’re going.” The obscene language flowed from his mouth in an almost natural rhythm.

Fredrick just stood there, utterly flabbergasted and unsure how to respond.





Alastor unfurled his hands from behind his back, instead placing them inside his pockets. "As for the rest of us," he began, glancing over at Donovan. "Shall we begin?"

Donovan nodded in response, his grin now more of a cocky smirk, mirroring Alastor’s. Of all the Rizzos, Donovan’s entrance was about to be the most epic. He opened his mouth to answer Alastor’s question, but stopped when he noticed, peripherally, Trevor’s face. The boy was staring at a girl around Donovan’s own age who’d just taken the stage. “One sec,” Donovan said to Alastor, taking a knee and coming eye-level with Trevor.

If Trevor noticed him, he didn’t act like it. He just kept staring at the girl.

“Who’s that?” Donovan asked with genuine curiosity, referring to the object of Trevor’s interest. From the way she so easily moved through the crowd to the stage, she had to be one of the Vongola… probably. Again, he didn’t really pay attention during the briefing.

“The Vongola Storm guardian Namine ‘The Tempest’ Gokudera, also known Tempest from the from the contemporaneously acclaimed pop band ‘Blast of Tempest’. Daughter of Hayato Gokudera and inheritor of the Systema C.A.I. Five feet seven inches in height, one-hundred and twenty pounds, brown eyes, sometimes likes to wear glasses. Sixteen years old at this point in time—”

Donovan interrupted Trevor by putting his hand on the boy’s head, forcing him to bow somewhat. He followed by giving Trevor his best grin.

“You wanna get an autograph, don’tcha?”
Trevor shook his head slowly. “No.” His tone was neutral.
Donovan’s grin widened. “Are you sure?”
Trevor nodded. “Yes.”

Donovan sighed in mock exasperation, standing and taking a step back. Knowing Trevor, he probably didn’t want to look like a little kid in front of Alastor. “Oh well, it’d be a shame if you missed out,” he said teasingly.

Though it wouldn’t have been noticeable to an observer outside of the family, Donovan knew better than anyone when Trevor was holding back. The boy began shifting his weight from foot to foot ever so slightly. It was almost imperceptible, but Donovan caught it.

And, apparently, so did Alastor. The Rizzo boss nudged Trevor onward with his hand. Trevor stumbled forward a step, looking up at Alastor with an eyebrow raised.

“Past, present, and future, you always have a knack for acquiring the most peculiar of interests, Trevor.” He said the words with certain lightheartedness, as if he always expected this to happen. Alastor didn’t make eye contact with the boy, still looking towards the stage, but he did make a brief gesture with his chin, motioning towards the Vongola girl. “Make it very quick.”

Donovan nodded in tacit approval.

Sure, the younger image of Alastor might’ve been a little ass, but the current Alastor—the real one—wasn’t just his boss, he was one of his best friends. Within this elder image of the Space flame guardian, Donovan saw him. He saw his boss. He saw a friend. But more than that, he saw what his friend would one day grow up to become, and it wasn’t too shabby.

Donovan smirked as he returned his sights to Trevor, who was walking off at a leisurely pace, hands in his pockets, as if he wasn’t resisting the urge to run full tilt to where the Vongola Storm guardian currently stood.

It was a few minutes before either of the Rizzo guardians spoke, with Donovan breaking the silence. “So… are we waiting for something specific?”

“Not specifically,” Alastor said, looking over his shoulder in a preoccupied fashion, his voice taking on a moderately ominous tone. “The arrival of the Tempest seems to have disturbed things. Some of the Vongola guardians are leaving the stage and moving about most erratically. I don’t like it.”

Donovan followed Alastor’s gaze, his eyes landing on the Vongola Sky guardian, who was standing next to Trevor’s Storm celebrity and... was that Flandre?!

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Donovan asked jovially, barely stifling a chuckle. Hopefully the wheelchair-bound Flandre didn’t start things off prematurely.

Alastor was silent for a moment, his eyes landing briefly on Miku before facing forward again. “Maybe this shouldn’t be as surprising as it is, but this isn’t how things went in the book.”

Donovan raised an eyebrow, puzzled. “Huh?”

“This place. This time. These Vongolas and their movements.” Alastor made a sweeping motion with his hand. “Everything pretty much followed the history books of your timeline, give or take a few things, until this moment.”

Donovan gasped in sudden understanding, his countenance somewhat troubled. He remembered being briefed by the head of the Rizzo family—Alastor’s father—back in the future, before the real Alastor shepherded them all backwards a good hundred years. Upon arrival, Donovan and his fellow guardians would be tasked with appropriating the Vongola rings, but they would not have much in the way of time to get it done.

Time.

Donovan remembered holding back a bark of laughter during the briefing, lest he embarrass his boss. It was almost like a misnomer, an oxymoron, what the Rizzo head had said. Not enough time? Yeah, right. What is time to a team of badasses that can travel backwards and forward through history at a whim, right?

Wrong, apparently.

The Rizzo guardians were to be sent back to a specific point in time, one that was determined through complex quantum statistical analysis and abstract mathematical computations performed by future AI supercomputers. The AIs all came to the same conclusion: the Rizzo guardians had a very small window in space-time with which to divest the Vongolas of their rings before their foreign presence so deep in the past began to drastically impact the timeline and all of space-time in general. Donovan was pretty sure it was the reason Alastor forbade them from just killing the Vongolas—it’d have an unpredictable effect on the timeline.

Which is why what Alastor said was so troubling.

“Are we too late?” Donovan asked. “Did we already fail?”

“I do not believe so,” he responded, looking around the room. He began making eye contact with the various Rizzos positioned around the room. “However, we should make haste. The longer we remain without possession of the Vongola rings, the direr the prospect of your future becomes—”

SMACK!!!!

Both Alastor and Donovan spun towards the source of the sound. It’d become quiet enough in the room that you could hear a pin drop.

Alastor shook his head in disgust as the Sky Vongola tackled and tussled with the Lightning.

“Woah,” Donovan muttered, his tone underlined with a vein of excitement. “Can we attack them now?”

“No,” he responded as the Sky and Cloud Vongolas made their way out of the convention hall. In the midst of the Vongola’s internal strife, Alastor managed to make peripheral eye contact with Sora, throwing him a disparaging look. The Star guardian had changed out of his sanctioned attire, opting for a miscreant’s apparel. While unappreciated, this, too, was expected. Like the other Rizzos, the Star of this timeline was very similar to the Star guardian of the timeline from whence the elder Alastor hailed. “Not yet. I’d rather they gather together in a group, preferably on the stage. We want to end this quickly, with as few casualties as possible.” Alastor briefly pondered the seemingly dilapidated state of the Vongola famiglia. It was no wonder they ceased to exist half a century from now. “Further,” he continued, “the longer the fight draws on, the more likely it is that we’ll require Trevor to nullify someone’s ultimate attack or final form or what have you. I’m aiming to avoid that if we can,” he said, his eyes darkening. “Lest one of these Vongolas force us to end them.”

For the next several minutes, Donovan chewed on his lower lip, annoyed with the tedium of it all, his cocky grin long since given way to a deep frown. The Vongolas began their presentation, and Donovan was suffering under the grinding boredom and stifling monotony of an infinite array of slides and images and sounds and blah, glancing over at Alastor every now and then for a sign.

The man was like a statue.

It wasn’t until towards the end of the presentation, when the Vongola boss walked back into the room, that Alastor finally acted. Slowly, he raised his arm into the air, and with one loud Space-flame-assisted SNAP! he signaled to his fellow Rizzos:

Attack.





SMACK!!!!

Hildegarde had a look of absolute horror on her face, her hands coming up to cover her mouth, her stance that of a woman taken aback.

Did that really just happen? Did one of the Vongola really just slap the other, like actors in some cheap soap opera? Really?

When the two guardians started fighting amongst themselves, Hildegarde shook her head. Surely her Alastor was thinking the same thing as she: these Vongolas weren’t looking too good as a familial unit. Still, Hildegarde felt genuine pity for the kid who’d been humiliated by a slap to the face. She was generally fond of kids, and didn’t like seeing them hurt.

Then again, he was technically one of Alastor’s enemies.

Hildegarde removed her gloved hands from her face, instead gripping the railing in front of her with a dainty flair. That’s right, they were enemies of her lover. Their mere existences were an affront to his awesomeness! His mandate of heaven!

How dare they. How dare they! HOW DARE THEY!

After blowing a kiss to Alastor upon making eye contact, Hildegarde returned to leering at the pink-haired girl and her friends standing below. They dared to stand against Alastor. Her Alastor.

The audacity.

Hildegarde leered with enough concentration to lose track of time itself. It was all she could do just to contain her hair-trigger need to defend Alastor’s honor against these primitive savages, her head shaking with indignation. So when she finally heard her lord snap his fingers, the long-awaited signal for action, she came to attention almost immediately.

With a terrible shriek, she spit a ruby-red piece of candy she’d held in her mouth out over the balcony before her. It ignited shortly after contacting the air, surging forward like a ballistic missile to crash amidst the Vongolas on stage below.

And then it exploded. Violently.

Hildegarde popped more candy in her mouth, moving along the length of the balcony like a medieval sentry patrolling a gate, releasing more of the explosive charges from her mouth at her leisure. Her intent was to scatter the assorted Vongola, but despite herself she secretly hoped that she maimed at least one of them. They were Alastor’s enemies, after all.

Especially that pink-haired witch.





Trevor was standing off to the side of the crowd, near the wall, when he heard Alastor’s signal. The snap! reverberated in his ears like a battle cry, though it was a clash he could not partake in. Not this time.

Not that he wanted to, anyway. The Vongola were just as cool as he imagined they’d be.

Trevor took a seat on the floor, maintaining a firm grip on the exclusive disk from Blast of Tempest, autographed by Tempest herself. He didn’t want it damaged by what was coming next.

As if on cue, the wall directly to Trevor’s left exploded, a large dark-red ball hurtling through it at an unholy speed. Several other walls around the hall exploded inwards with similar results, raining debris down upon the unsuspecting crowd.

Trevor recognized them as Donovan’s deceptively dangerous iron-core Palla, his weapons of choice for inflicting what he always called “big damage”. The Palla closest to Trevor bounced off an empty chair, flattening it like a pancake and increasing its own velocity in the process. Another Palla nearly devastated a poor businesswoman, though the ball seemed to alter its own trajectory mid-flight, sparing her life.

It appeared that Donovan took Alastor’s “no casualties” command pretty seriously, though Trevor knew he didn’t like killing innocents anyway.

Although the reaction was slightly delayed, the grand crescendo of shouted curses and panicked screaming began in full as people started running about. Simultaneously, multiple explosions rang out about the stage area, rocking the entire building and blanketing the immediate zone in a thick black smoke. The overhead lights flickered, many of them shattering entirely, raining glass down upon the panicked audience members below.

Trevor didn’t even have to guess who was responsible for that one.

The combined offensive from the Palla and the sustained explosive rounds raining down upon the stage from above seemed to have a dilapidating effect on the structural integrity of the building, with hairline fractures appearing along various primary support beams and across wide stretches of the floor.

Trevor coughed softly, pulling his undershirt up to cover his nose and mouth like a filter as people scurried about. The smoke from the stage explosions had begun to permeate the area around him, but he didn’t mind it too much.

His only mission now was to stay out of the way.

SNAP!

Alastor gave the signal. It was time to attack. Sora first made eye contact with Miku, then darted off.

Sora had two objectives at this moment and began running towards the first, the Vongola Guardian of the Cloud, Murasaki Eri. He saw her walking back with the Cain and used this moment to catch her off guard before Donovan began.

He looked her directly in the eye and said, "Hello there, Vongola Guardian of Cloud. I'd like you to meet my Rizzo friend, Miku. She's a sweet girl."


He ran off afterwards literally disappearing with the wind just as Cain and everyone else around her would except for one person, Miku. It was an illusion set for her and all that remained within her sight was the Rizzo Guardian of the Comet, Miku "Elizabeth" Rizzo. Both of these guardians could only see each other in this world as if no one else was there. By sight, it no longer appeared as the Vongola Headquarters, but instead an outlandish world.

(OOC: Feel free to describe the world/illusion as you'd like if you want to.)

After setting Miku up, he dashed towards his target, Miyamoto Keiko. With almost perfect timing, Donovan's iron-core Palla rained destruction on the walls of the headquarters. They bounced off the walls taking no casualties to the people, but causing chaos and panic through the process. He looked around and saw the looks on the people's faces running in fear, the shock on the Vongola's faces. 'This is the right thing to do....right? Of course, it's for the future,' he thought while he swallowed his doubts. He spotted his target, Miyamoto Keiko who he previously met.

"Take this Miyamoto!" he yelled directly at her for her attention. Upon locking eyes, the area around both of them changed. A boxing arena caged match surrounded them.

"So I heard you like close ranged fighting?" Sora smirked, "It's my specialty as well. Once again, let me reintroduce myself, I'm Sora Rizzo, Rizzo Guardian of the Star." He says with his eyes filled with one star respectively. "Now I'll be needing that Sun ring of yours."

*DING DING DING*

"In this corner is the bright star, 5'9 and illusion expert! SORA RIZZO!" says an overhead announcer.

The crowd cheers with applause.

"In this corner, the shining star herself, 5'8, blue eyes and a beautiful physique. The champ herself! Miyamoto Keiko!" says the announcer.

"NOW! FIGHT!"

He ran up directly towards her with a flying roundhouse kick.



After Shaji's presentation, Nami was glad to see Eri and Cain walking back into the area. The attendees of this event have calmed down and everything seemed to hit status quo until the unexpected occurred.

SNAP!

Nami heard an usually loud snap from a distance. Thinking nothing of it, she continued walking on until one bouncing iron ball came through the window. A few more accompanied this bouncing iron ball then they all started to rapidly speed up. As the momentum increased, they became more destructive and deadly. They busted the walls of the building, and begun to injure the civilians at this event.

"Everyone the emergency exit are this way!" she yelled and pointed for their safety.

Nami pulled out a box weapon, 'I've got to act quick!' She infused a storm flame in her ring, placed it inside a box, a a swarm of mockingbirds came out.
She begun singing a song and the mockingbirds surrounded her.

"Cambio Form!"

As the birds flew around her, she performed an almost sailor moon type transformation. The light produced by the sky flame mockingbirds swiftly around her until she was coated in a suit of armor. This armor had jet pack like boosters around her arms and legs. She begun singing to power her suit and dashed around deflecting the iron rubber balls from hitting civilians while they escaped. It was painful to stop them, but their safety and escape was more important at the moment. At that moment it hit her, 'What about Flan?!' She quickly looked around in panic to find her new wheelchair bound friend. Then she spotted her, remaining in the same position still holding her same smile and piercing eyes. Almost as if it was planned, one iron ball headed directly towards her, "I'll help you out Flan!" Nami stepped directly in front of Flan, punched the iron ball out of the way as it bounced in another direction. "Whew, that was pretty close. Are you alright Flan?" she asked.

Thick black smoke billowed across the floor like so many ghostly tendrils, a large inky cloud of debris following in its wake. Guests were sprinting as fast as they could manage towards the exits, covering their mouths with their hands, trying their best to avoid the opaque miasma.

Amidst the chaos and confusion, two silhouetted figures slowly materialized within the smoky debris, moving through the deluge with a slow unshakable confidence. Out from the black haze sauntered the elder Alastor, as tranquil as a sage in meditation, his arms behind his back, hands gripping his forearms. He moved with an otherworldly grace, as if he were gliding across the floor. Next to him walked Donovan, hands in his pockets, a shark-like grin upon his face. With a flick of his neck, he cleared a lock of his messy orange hair out of his eyes. The two seemed oddly out of place amid all the pandemonium, as if they’d dropped in out of the sky after a relaxing day at the Spa.

The two moseyed their way through the storm of screaming, confusion, battle, and flying red Palla, Donovan grinning like a kid in a candy story. He was certainly enjoying himself. Alastor, on the other hand, maintained a firm grimace as he marched towards his target.

And then he spotted his mark. The boy king of flames. He was just standing there, looking around. Perhaps he was confused.

It seemed the entire Vongola family existed in a perpetual state of confusion.

Alastor came to a stop a few meters away from the Vongola unidecimo. He tightened his tie with both hands, wrapping the index finger of his right hand around its base and pulling the tail out to the sides with the left. At the same time he cocked his head to the side in an abrupt fashion, cracking his neck as one would their knuckles, the pops echoing like some morbid chime.

“King of Flames,” the elder Alastor called out, projecting his voice over the surrounding commotion. He simply wanted the boy’s attention. When he was sure he had it, he smirked. It was not an amenable expression, but openly hostile.

Alastor turned to Donovan. “If you will?”

Donovan held out his hand, palm facing Alastor. Without pause, the elder Rizzo boss brought his closed fist against his comrade’s outstretched hand, with his thumb and index finger in contact with Donovan’s skin, his knuckles facing forward.

To an outsider, it looked as if he were gripping a rod of some sort, though there had been nothing in his hand earlier. Despite the explosions that rocked the stage behind them and the Palla that bounced this way and that, an eerie silence settled over the immediate area, muffling all other sounds.

“Come,” he muttered, his tone unequivocal in its command. “Minute Hand.”

Slowly, Alastor began to pull his fist outward from Donovan’s palm, but instead of nothingness, a dark red and black metallic object emerged, as if from thin air. The Rizzo boss pulled the weapon out of his friend’s hand as cleanly as a samurai would his prized sword from a sheath, making a whipping motion off to his side, the blade whistling as it parted the air.

The weapon had a very long handle, circumvoluted with thin leather strips for increased grip. A sharp maroon hilt, resembling the wings of a bat, rested slightly above Alastor’s clenched fist. Between the hilt and the blade were several exposed gears, resembling the internals of a clock, twisting and ticktocking at odd intervals. The blade itself, a deep metallic black, was as long and wide as Alastor’s own arm, yet it was, as the Rizzo boss himself put, “molecularly flat”. It was so flush that, if viewed perpendicularly, it was virtually invisible.

This also made it extremely sharp.

Donovan flashed the Vongola boss a devilish grin, giving the elder Alastor a light tap on the shoulder. “Can’t let Garda have all the fun,” he said before disappearing in a gust of dark-red flame.

Without warning, Alastor flowed forward towards the Vongola boss with all the clout and presence of a raging hurricane, his weapon screaming as it parted the air. In the next instant, Alastor was standing before the boy, his body angled slightly, and, in a move lacking any inkling of hesitation, ran him through, his sword cleaving the boy’s neck as smoothly as a blade through butter.

The Rizzo boss finished the maneuver by taking a relaxed pose behind his target, his sword held out before him and to the side, his free hand resting in his pocket.

It was a wonderful party to return to. Once Cain had seen Joel, who had a playful smile on his face, talking to Keiko, he thought he might have an easy chance to apologize. Though, what happened next he didn't expect. He wasn't sure if any of his family had. What was this? One moment, they were doing a presentation with a whole bunch of stuck up, but seemingly harmless people, and the next, there were explosions in the air with a fireworks like effect that seemed to scatter along the hall. On top of that, something seemed to be putting holes in the walls. Everything was quickly falling apart.
........................................................................................................................................................................................
Joel's face subsided to an even more serious one than he had before. As soon as he saw the lights flashing above him, he didn't even bother to give a look or even say anything to anyone else. The only thing seen in his disappeared body was the green smoked that portrayed his use of his powers and he was on top of the quaking building in the next instant. "Tch," the sound of disapproval came from his mouth as he saw the woman perched on the rail of the roofs opening. His questionable look expressed all of the sense the current scene was making, until he put it all together quickly in his head. It had to be none other than an attack on the Vongola. Not only the Vongola, but from the matter of the attacks, it was an attack on the ring bearers themselves. He only heard stories about the attacks on the past Vogolas. Seeing as how Cain was still young, he could be challenged for his ring and with it his place as head of the family. Though, a challenge like that would actually have to be a challenge. That only meant one thing. Whoever was attacking them were most likely after their heads. Which family would send someone after them though. That was the only blank spot left.
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Cain looked around cluelessly as his fellow guardians disappeared before him. One moment Eri was next to him, and the next, she was gone as fast as Joel could disappear. Looking over to where Joel use to be, he saw that his friend was no longer there and neither was Keiko. One by one they were all singled out. It was inevitable what was going to happen next and as the guest were all leaving and the guards with no targets for their guns, it would seem to the unknowing person that everyone was fleeing. However, Cain had a feeling that wasn't it. Knowing Joel and his other friends, they didn't seem like the type of people to just bail on something like this. No. Not without helping anyone. The only person visible was Nami, who seemed to be trying her best to help who she could with her powers. He also saw Fredrick, looking just as confused as he was.

“King of Flames,” a voice called out to Cain's surprise. He hadn't called himself that in front of anyone, but Joel, and that was just a joke he flew around. How could someone who wasn't Joel know of that self proclaimed title? He looked over and saw a kid, who looked about his age, and a man who seemed almost as strict to business as Joel was at times. This was serious. This was an attack. It didn't even take the revelation of the mans weird weapon to get Cain to come to that conclusion. He wasn't scared so much as he was wondering what the hell was going on. He wasn't able to react to the man coming to him at a high speed and it seemed like he was done for. Sure he had ample opportunity to dodge an oncoming attack, but the manner of the mans movements were unreal. There was no indication of his phases like there was with the lightning guardians. This was some other form of power. The only wind which was coming from the strike to the boys neck indicated that he couldn't even feel the man pass him. However, the swift attack gave the illusion that he had just been decapitated. There was no pain, which he'd expect from his head being severed from his body, but Cain stopped his breathing and even felt his heart pulsate with the type of attack one would get from a jump scare at a scary movie. Though, once he realized his head wasn't flying off of his body, he quickly turned around, back peddling to create a needed distance from his strange attacker, holding his throat just to double check to see if his skin wasn't gashed. There was no wound. It was unreal. He was sure that the tool in the mans hand had went through his neck. If that was the case, then why wasn't he dead? Looking at the man with a glare in his eyes, Cain gazed upon the relaxed man. Judging by his stature, he didn't even look like his friend anymore. His demeanor and everything was that of what he'd expect an assassin would look like.

"I don't know who you are," he said, "but you are going to regret not killing me with that attack." His skates that were still attached to his feet rolled on their own. The forward wheel rolling counter clockwise and the rear one rolling the opposite direction. On both pair of wheeled shoes the friction continued until red flames started to spur from them. He then moved in a beautiful motion to circle the man, increasing speed the further he traveled. Soon it was almost as if a bike was going full speed in a gigantic circle and the flames streaked the ground making a circle of fire. Cain soon disappeared into the flames and prepared his attack. Though he wasn't sure what the outcome of the attack had been. Sure he had trained with his powers, but he wasn't use to using them in a fight. Once he bolted out of the flame ready to attack the man at full velocity with his flame kick, he only could guess that it'd have to hurt on impact. At least that's what he would have wanted to happen. However, upon the first attack, he felt a collision with a blunt object against his feet and merely continued on past the man disappearing into the angry circle. The man looked as if he hadn't even moved. There was no way for someone to be so fast as to not look like they haven't moved an inch, especially if he blocked his attack. Cain continued his assault, this time speeding up as fast as he could and then created a pentagram of fire within the circle. Through every movement back and forth, he felt the same collision and with no trace of the man even moving. After the third dozen of attempts, he ceased his movements. The flames dying down, leaving a tear in the marble floor to show where he had went. Everything was drawn out just like a drawing inside of a circle. Everything, but the area around the man. He gritted his teeth at the phenomenon. How could that even have been possible? What would happen if the man had went on the offensive? He had only hoped he would be able to survive whatever was coming. Little did he know, he wasn't even the slightest bit prepared for it.
........................................................................................................................................................................................
Joel reached forward to grab at the woman only to see the same type of mist that he himself had left upon coming or going at his speed. His alertness told him to step away, not knowing what would come from it. Of course his eyes stretched before going back to being calm as he saw a kid of all people appearing out of nowhere. 'So that's how it feels when that happens in front of you,' he thought to himself, looking at the kid in his eyes. He relaxed his ready stance and stood up more straight. "You shouldn't lie in front of me," he spoke aloud. "Move." He was more interested in stopping the woman who was obviously attacking the hall than some guy who decided to get in his way. Though, he wasn't dumb. For not a second did he not see the boy as a threat. The grin on the boys face looked as if he was playing some type of game. To this Joel returned with his natural gaze, knowing that he'd most likely have to get past the boy before he had done anything else, and, from the looks of it, he wasn't going to end it quickly. There were too many questions in the air to even attempt to do so. Joel flashed, not towards the boy, but up in the air, only to see the extent of his enemies motives, and power.

Donovan appeared beside Hildegarde. He could always tell when she was in the throws of a passionate full-on episode, which she apparently was in at the moment. Again. She probably didn't even notice him appear, but that was okay. Donovan ran his hand through his hair, sighing. He didn't zip up here to see her anyway.

"You shouldn't lie in front of me," came a voice over Donovan's shoulder. One he immediately considered cocky and full of pomp. "Move."

Donovan turned, flashing the guy a smile. Yeah, this was definitely his target alright. The only thing on Donovan's mind now was how to make these next few minutes the most interesting they could possibly be. Perhaps a speed contest is in order? The very thought caused the Asteroid guardian to snicker. Speed to an old guard Vongola flame was something straightforward. A to B. Slow to fast. But to Donovan? To the Asteroid? Speed was a commodity, to be bought and sold like livestock. Speed was not his domain. It was his servant. It genuflected in front of the alter of Donovan.

No, acceleration. That was the domain of the Asteroid.

Without so much as a witty rebuttal, Donovan simply watched as the Vongola's speediest Lightning guardian ever zipped away, appearing several meters up in the air. He imagined the guy hitting his head on the ceiling and chuckled softly. This was going to be fun.

Joel reappeared, feet on the ceiling and his body hanging upside down as if he were some sort of vampire. He looked past the boy and saw the woman he was targeting headed towards Shaji. He gave no thought to it other than the fact that it had became her battle now, which only meant one thing. The boy below him with the nonchalant grin was his person of interest. His enemy to fight. Staring at the kid now with bored eyes, he wondered how he would fight him. It wasn't his intention to hurt a kid, but, if he was as dangerous as he thought, Joel would have to do something at least. He did have to admit, fighting a boy was much better than fighting a girl.

Moving his arms wide out in a motion that didn't really seem to do anything, he flashed once more, appearing next to the boy and resting his hand gently on the boy's shoulder. "I don't think you want this. I'll give you a couple counts to reconsider. This is one." The words flowed from his mouth like instructions, almost in comparison to how a teacher would warn their students.

Donovan made a face, his mouth contorted as if in pain, his lips puckered in the shape of an O. It looked as if someone punched him in the gut.

"Ooooooooooooooh," he began, deepening his voice, "snap!" His countenance immediately corrected itself, his face once again radiating self-confidence. "I believe that's how they complimented such charming and elegant gentlemen when they delivered surreptitious insults in this time, right?" He didn't wait for a response, instead nodding to himself, his toned underlined with contempt. "Mmm. Anyways, so this is how we play, Joel." He put his hand on Joel's, attempting to rattle the Vongola by saying his name. It was not a friendly gesture. "Hmm. How about..." He scratched his chin a bit. "Oh! If you can tag me ten times before one of your friends screams, I won't take your ring. But if you can't..." The grin left Donovan's face for just this one moment, leaving the boy with an expression of deadly sincerity and a voice to match. He stared Joel dead in his eyes before continuing.

"I get to kill one."

He paused for but a moment, taking time to grin again, his voice returning to its upbeat normal. "Kay?! Sounds like fun, right? Here, I'll even do you one better." He gave Joe's hand a pat with his own, his voice as upbeat and happy-go-lucky as a kid's in a candy store. "As a handicap to you," he said, wagging his finger in Joel's face, "I'll let this here hand of yours count as tag number one."

Joel looked suspiciously at the boy when he spoke his name, but didn't speak on it. It was something he wouldn't forget though. Once the boy put his hand on his, he was about to count off another number, but was interrupted by the boy's weird words. While most people might have reacted poorly or threw a tantrum over the words, Joel chuckled and smirked. "That actually sounds pretty interesting," he said. "I doubt any of the others would die to someone like you, but if you win, I'll let you try your hand at them. However, it won't be easy to escape me." Joel stepped away from the boy. "Okay kid. Start running I guess. As a handicap to you, I'll count to five before I start chasing." Joel dropped his smirk, but kept his eyes on the boy, wandering just how fast he could go to think he could escape lightning.

For just a microsecond, a dash of red hot anger colored Donovan's otherwise clear amber eyes. It wasn't something that was noticeable. "Dang beeotch," he said, rolling his neck and artificially raising his voice. "You're da bomb! All that and a bag of chips!" He returned to a serious tone, leaning towards Joel, the back of his hand next to his mouth as if he were about to tell the Vongola guardian a juicy secret. "I've done some research on the primitive speech patterns of this time," he muttered. "I'm doing well, aren't I?" He burst out laughing, holding his stomach. "Okay, but seriously. Let's start."

In the time it would take a human being to blink, Donovan reached his hand out as if to a lover. In that very same instant, one of his bouncing palla came to him, slamming into his open palm with enough force and momentum to shatter a football player's entire body, yet Donovan didn't even flinch. He simply stared Joel in the face, smiling. After a moment, the seemingly frenetic and destructive iron-core palla fell to the balcony, lifeless and robbed of its former color, like a bird whose wings had been clipped.

Donovan began to glow ever so slightly. "Here we g—!"

The Asteroid guardian disappeared without a trace.

Watching the boy disappear, Joel wondered if he should actually give chase to the lad. If he were really the type of person, he would have just forgot about him and went to help one of his fellow guardians with their fights. Though, he thought about it for a moment, realizing that everyone is entitled to their own. Maybe this would be a test for him as well. He counted down the remainder of times he had to tag the kid, and also how many more warnings he would actually give him. It sounded about right. "Nine more then," he whispered to himself, closing his eyes. It would have been a cinch for him to see something moving at high speeds, since he-himself could do so, but it seemed like too much of a hassle to waste that ability. The more he knew about his enemy, the better, and the less his enemy knew about him, all the same. Closing his eyes, he listened. He listened past the crunching sound of debris and the yelling of distant people. All he wanted to focus on was the wind. Something he had realized in his training, was that moving at certain speeds causes a sound distortion in the wind. Of course, when one moves as fast as a bullet, the naked ear can't connect. However, with training, one can hear a bullet as it zips past. The human body was no different. "Phase one."

Upon the words being spoken from his mouth, he disappeared as he always had, though, this time, he left not only green flames, but a small electrical current too. He only opened his eyes to look where he was going. The rumors about moving a certain speed were mostly lies, at least at the speed he was going. At Phase one Joel saw things as fast as they came, though he was trained to react to them. Once he heard the change in wind he reached his hand out, only extending a finger, and once he saw his target he made sure to only barely tap the back of him. As soon as it happened he ended the phase completely, standing on top of one of the Vongola statues, looking forward in no intended direction. He had decided to give it a moment, to see if the chase was still on, or if he would stop. Either way, Joel noted- the boy had eight more chances left to surrender.

"Hey!" Donovan called up to his playmate. "Nice one!" Donovan was lying on the upper shoulder of the same Vongola statue, using it as a hammock. To any onlooker, it would seem as if Donovan had been there the entire time, judging by his relaxed demeanor, and not that he'd just arrived a split second after Joel. "Ya got eight left. Don't miss!"

Once again, Donovan reached his hand out and was again met by one of his bouncing palla, the iron-core ball slamming into his open palm. Instantly, the palla fell back to the earth like a rock, colorless.

Again, Donovan disappeared.

A faint curve almost formed in Joel's mouth upon the boy's demeanor. It had been awhile since he was able to play a game of any sort and he had to admit, he sort of missed those days. He even began to feel bummed out that there were only eight more times left in their game. He had decided to enjoy himself while he had the chance, since it wasn't like he had any other option. This time, instead of trying to hear the boy, he wanted to see if he could lay his eyes upon him instead. What he saw, made him decide to take more mental notes. He was able to spot the lad. However, it seemed the more he followed him with his eyes, the harder it became. One could compare it to watching the wings of a fan move and accelerate with each pull of the chord. "Phase one," he spoke again before disappearing. This time, it wasn't a quick catching up, but instead a long stride, almost as if both were going normal speed and Joel was trying to lessen the space between them. He even had to stop and gain footing on something so he could push off of it to increase his momentum. It was weird indeed. Just how fast could the kid go? Joel was willing to find out. As he bounced off the starboard wall and headed in a diagonal to intercept the actual area where the kid was headed he let that curve sink in and formed an actual smile. Making it the second he had on his face all night. It didn't feel like much, maybe because they were both almost going the same speed, give or take, but Joel managed to flick the back of the boy's neck. Skin contact counted to him especially. If it had been his clothing it would have been another thing, but he was happy to mark another number off. Two rounds of tag finished and it wasn't even a minute yet, and from the looks of it, the rounds and the young men were going to keep getting faster and faster. "You're pretty fast. I might have to cheat. Hehehe."

Donovan turned on his heel, eyeing his chaser and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. That flick smarted a bit, but Donovan maintained his goofy grin. "Oh wow, you're faster than I thought!" He said, spinning on his heel to face forward. Two palla hurdled through space towards him, but instead of catching them in his palms like before, Donovan simply hopped atop them as if they were stepping stones, using the last one as a platform to accelerate across the room, almost daring the Vongola to chase him. Like the others, the palla themselves fell to the floor, robbed of their color, momentum, and flames.

This back and forth continued between the Rizzo and the Vongola for several minutes, Joel managing to tag Donovan and Donovan responding by depowering yet another palla. Finally, Joel tagged Donovan for the seventh time, tagging him on the shoulder. This time, however, Donovan did not react, choosing instead to keep things moving.

The boy kept on getting faster and Joel was already about to use his third phase. If the kid were to go any faster, he'd probably have to give up on his end. Either that or figure out a new plan of attack. It seemed like the words were left behind a while back as the two were still traveling, out of the sight of the naked eye. Midway through, Joel realized that the boy was going much faster than his phase 2. Faster than intended. "Phase....Threeeee," he said in a strained voice, snapping his fingers and zipping around, leaving a thunderous sound in his going and bring a cracking sound in his coming. He seemed to almost touch the boy, but he kept on missing. It always seemed like he was just a hair away each time.

Non-stop he continued the chase, reaching the edge of the phase the longer he moved. He was starting to wonder if he would even have a chance of catching the kid this round, but subsided. He could always go faster if he wanted to. He could always go to the next phase, but, for some reason, he felt held back. It pained him to hold back. Lightning wasn't the type of flame to be caged in easily. If he kept it up any longer, the odds were, well, he didn't even know, but it hurt enough to feel as if something bad would happen. "Phase..... three point five." His body created a ring of electric waves, making him look as if he was a spark wire. It wasn't long that he could hold this extra boost, but luckily enough it pushed him forward. So fast in fact that he whizzed over the boy's head, managing to get his finger to slightly graze the top of his head.

Not able to stop his momentum, he flipped around to crash down on a wall. Though he landed feet first, as soon as he hopped off, the wall began to fissure and soon implode. The only thing left on the man's mind, was how he was going to catch the boy a two more times without killing himself. He had to relax and think about his next move. He didn't want to use his next phase, but at the same time he didn't want to hold back the lightning flames building up either. Though he was in deep thought, he kept his eyes towards the wall before disappearing once more.

Donovan appeared next to Joel as they zipped around the room. "I'm surprised you managed to get to eight, old man," he laughed, pointing. "Was it hard?"

Joel grinned. "I wouldn't think I was that old, but yeah, crashing into that wall was pretty hard."

"I mean, you tagging me for the eighth time. Was it hard?" Donovan didn't wait for a response. "I know it was," he smirked. "Have you noticed it yet?" Again, he did not wait for a response. "No, you probably didn't." Donovan caught another of his palla, sucking the flames from it like a vampire, eyeing Joel the entire time. "I haven't really been going all that much faster, ya know." Donovan pointed at his opponent. "You've just been going slower. Every time you touch me, old man, you touch my flames. They stick to you like mud... they can speed you up," he began, infusing the now colorless palla with his Asteroid flame. The palla burst back into variegated life, blasting away like a bullet. "... or, like in your case, they can slow you down. If you somehow manage to tag me again, I don't think you'll ever be fast enough to make it to ten!" He said, holding his stomach while he laughed raucously.

"I've been quickly replenishing what I inject into you by catching my palla, but I haven't really been going any faster! Get it?!" Donovan clenched his fists, his expression and tone of voice becoming serious. His flame output became visible, like a fierce red aura that surrounded him where before there was nothing. "I bet you wanna see what happens when I actually go faster." He clenched his teeth, knowing full well that he was as unstoppable and cataclysmic as an asteroid hurtling through space. "Try to keep up."

Joel's eyes gave a hint of surprise when he was told he was going slower. It seemed, maybe using the fourth phase wasn't as dangerous as he had thought, since he might have been able to control it better. Though, that was big might. "I see," he said, giving a no harm no foul type of shrug. "So you've been a little trickster this whole time. Impressive. You've managed to slip something past my senses. You and your lot seem to be able to do that to me. This whole event.... heh. It's like you know how I think or something." Of course most of Joel's words were to himself as the boy had disappeared. Joel could still follow him with his ears, but by the sound of it, he probably wouldn't catch up on his feet. Of course he still tried to anyway. The boy impressed him even more. It was as if he was alter-imaging inside of their little speed world. He was on a whole other playing field than Joel could currently reach. However Joel had a different plan in mind. Slowing down to a stop, he closed his eyes and began moving his arms in a dance of motions. He seemed to be doing some kata of some kind, though whatever it was had no name to it. He ended by spreading his arms out and slowly moving them down. Once again he listened to the sound of the wind, looking for all possible directions it could go. With a snap of his fingers he summoned a metal lance and threw it at an unknown location, only to disappear and arrive at his destination. The lance had missed the boy by 0.23 seconds. Though, it got what Joel needed from it. "Distortion Phase mode," he mumbled, before disappearing and traveling to another point. He traveled to different points, all randomly. He wasn't even following the sound of the wind anymore, but this time, just cause and effect. Soon he arrived somewhere and stuck his finger out, just in time to have it crack upon the boy's unsuspecting chest. He kept his face straight through the pain, but regretted not throwing out his hand instead immediately.

"Hmmm. The web the spider sows to trap it's prey. Hehe. You're not the only one who's been hiding things. These weapons of mine are each connected to the electromagnetic field my body creates. Usually they circle around me without my will sometimes. Though, because I don't think I could tag you like that, I had them stay in one part of the room. All the way from the time I was upside down I suppose. Though, I'm kinda spent. I don't really feel like playing anymore, nor do I feel like showing you anymore of my abilities. I'm more than smart enough to know when I'm being tested. Tell me, was it always your goal to see how far I could go, or am I just imagining things?"

Donovan looked down at his chest, his grin now a faint shell of its former glory. He'd stopped on a dime, using his own flames to negate his gathered momentum and cancel it out completely. He saw Joel's finger less than a millimeter away from his chest. Though the effort of his sudden stop may have displaced the wind around him with enough force to push against the Vongola's outstretched digit, it hadn't actually touched him... but he'd come close. Too close.

Looking around, Donovan took note of his surroundings. He must've still been moving in some sort of... something. To be honest, he was somewhat confused. He hadn't read about this move in the history books. Then again, he didn't read the books at all. Or really pay attention during the briefing. He was going purely off of Trevor's stories and not much else. Donovan shrugged internally. Oh well, should make things a bit more fun, anyway.

Donovan returned his eyes to Joel, his smile returning. "Yeah, you're right," he said, dusting some imaginary dirt off of his shoulder. "I was told by a dear friend of mine that you were the fastest Vongola to ever live. I had to put that to the test." He angled his head to the side, a quizzical expression overcoming his face. "So, uh, why did you throw that thing at me again?"

Joel dropped his grin and sighed, realizing that he was basically talking to a kid in Cain and Fredrick's age group. "Man. I just told you. Maybe I should explain more. Throwing the lance of Izanagi made it so you would slightly change your direction, limiting the amount of times I have to zip around to catch up to you.... and I kinda wanted to hit you with it, but I'm glad I didn't. Good job. Hehe. Though, as for why it had to be the spear of Izanagi, it's because it's the fastest thing I can through. I mean look at this," Joel pulled out one of his weapons from the spinning circle. "You think I'ma throw a gun at you? Hahaha."

Donovan laughed with him. He kinda liked this guy, and not just because he was a speedster. Still had to take his ring though. You know, higher cause, saving the human race, all that stuff.

Suddenly, a wave of pressure ripped through the entire area. After a while, Donovan recognized it as a scream, the sound waves palpitating across their space in slow motion. It was Donovan's turn to sigh, scratching the back of his head. "Here we go," he muttered.

"What the?" Joel gasped noticing the voice. "Shit, Cain. Looks like I really won't be able to play with you anymore kid. Stay back. This is the final warning." Not knowing if the kid was going to get in his way or not, he decided to use his fourth phase to escape. Whether the boy actually listened to his warning was entirely up to him, though it was for his own good. Joel flashed one final smile before saying, "It was good playing with you, boy. Next time I'll be sure to get your name.

"Game isn't over yet, old man," Donovan winked, but he wasn't sure if Joel was paying him much attention.

"Phase four," Joel said. With a snap of his finger, a lightning bolt crashed down upon him and he disappeared completely, leaving no signs of his existence. That was, until a second bolt struck not to far away, landing him right next to Cain. He looked over at Cain with weary eyes and shook his head. "Damn Cain. What did you do to deserve this?"

He looked over and saw Ai not to far away from the body. With another glance he peeked at Fred who had obviously lost his ring as well. He couldn't help but to sigh in reaction. Though he wanted to tell the boy to stop his actions, there were other matters that needed attention at the moment. He looked over Cain seeing his leg was in pretty bad shape. With a break like that, the blood could clot up causing him to permanently loose ties with it. Bending over his leg and laying his hand on it, he shot and electrical current through the boys leg, stimulating the muscles. Cain winced for a second before relaxing back into his slumber. He overheard Keiko yelling in a fit of rage at the group in front of her. It consisted of the boy whom he had seen before and a man who looked oddly like he could be related to the kid. He also saw one kid talking back to her and a woman who was yelling. The whole place was in complete chaos and it seemed the only two who were calm at the moment was Joel and the other man. Looking him in the eyes, Joel almost saw a reflection of what was a hardened warrior—someone who was used to fighting. He gathered that he was the one who got to Cain.

"Ya're talkin' tah ME about goin' too far?!" she snapped, before motioning around her. "WHEN YA'LL DID THIS?! AND FER WHAT? FER A BUNCHA RINGS I RECKON! THEN YA SHOULDA COME FOR US AND ONLY US!"

Sora tuned out her yelling and focused on the task at hand. 'Geez, just back up already!' he thought. Miyamoto snorted as if she was about to spit. 'No, she wouldn't.' As if it was a slow motion movie scene, he watched the spit fly from Miyamoto's mouth. 'Oh Shi--!" he yelled unable to stop the spit from landing on Alastor's shoes. He stood staring at Miyamoto thinking, [i]'What have you done! I'll get in so much trouble for this!'

The younger image of Alastor noticed the glob of spittle as well, and watched it collide with his elder self's otherwise impeccable business shoes. He took a step back from his elder self, and then another, and another. Though he was quiet, you could tell by the look on his face what was going through his head: oooooooh, you're in trouble!

For his part, the elder Alastor turned his attention away from the black-haired Vongola boy and his squeamish demands for his ring, casting a look down at his bespattered shoes, and then back at the girl—the Vongola Sun Guardian. His expression was of a pure neutrality, honed by power and tempered by several decades of experience. His eyes glistened like melted pennies. Whole universes were born, collapsed, and died in those eyes.

Slowly, deliberately, Alastor raised his hand, fixing the blathering Vongola girl with an intense stare. Behind her stood Hildegarde, grinning. The Quasar guardian took a step back in tandem with Alastor's younger image. This Vongola was about to find out that she'd poked the wrong bear.

Suddenly, Alastor brought his hand down upon Sora's shoulder. Alastor's cold, but firm grip caused a jolt to run ra up Sora's spine as if you ran ice up his entire body. "Hehe..." were the only word's he could muster knowing it was Alastor who stood behind him.

"The Sun ring is your responsibility, Sora, not mine." Alastor maintained eye contact with the Sun guardian, despite his conversation with the Star. His voice was cool and calm, completely lacking in hostility, yet it was firm, and left no room for response. "I don't want to have to handle this for you."

Sora closed his eyes and gave a long deep sigh. He has always despised Alastor's methods of 'handling' their enemies; however, with Alastor, Hildegarde, and the devil's brat spawn from hell known as 'little' Alastor watching, he had no choice.

"I tried doing this the nice way Miyamoto."

He opened his eyes with star flames oozing out of both of them. He looked directly into Miyamoto's eyes. "I'm going to scar you for life," he said as the world slowly shifted between the real world and his outlandish illusions. Behind him stood blood, demons, death, and a gruesome sight that switched in and out with the real world slowly. Sora's head slowly spun like a ferris wheel while his voice became deep producing a maniacal laugh. Standing next to them was the one Sora deemed as Miyamoto's close friend after seeing their interactions on stage together. Eri's head stood on top of a spear as if he was decapitated by Spartans while her body remained on the ground headless. The sky remained pitch black with devil red eyes randomly apearing in sight. "And you'll feel every bit of it." Miyamoto, originally unharmed, within the illusion stood bruised, bloody and battered while monsters and demons with razor sharp teeth and claws stood over her growling as if they were ready to feast. The illusion was still flickering in and out due to the shear madness of the world being produced.

However, Ai, whom was very quiet the whole time, decided to cut in. Approaching Sora, she broke his gaze with Miyamoto and turned his head forcefully to look into her eyes. "I will not allow you to harm any more of us," she said threateningly, yet tonelessly, Her third eye looked deep into his and flooded his mind with visions of his own friends, the Rizzo guardians, with blank expressions on their faces, eyes hovering over their chests, cords of varying colors sticking out of them in identical places around their bodies. Alien parasites with evil eyes. Ai's own cords crept around him and moved around his neck threateningly, before slowly constricting. 'So this is the Vongola of Mist illusion, huh?' he thought to himself as he saw Ai's cords move upon his neck, 'This Alien scum. He begun to force the star flame from his body to shift her illusion back into his own world of madness. The illusions flicked back and forth between reality, his world, and Ai's illusion like a broken movie reel. Ai was about to retaliate by strengthening her illusion by actually constricting him with her cords. She had the ability to completely possess anybody in her submission, and this one who was busy trying to fight her illusions with his own wouldn't have even noticed. Yet something broke both of their concentrations, causing the illusionary worlds in their heads to shatter. Simultaneously, they look toward the direction of a piercing sound.

Without warning, a high-pitched roar overspread the area, drawing everyone's attention. "WRRRYYYYYYYY!!!!"

"What are you doing here, kid?!" An urbane Vongola mafioso asked, her gun clutched tightly in her grip, barrel pointed downward. Trevor looked at the gun in the woman's hands, and then up at the woman's arms and shoulders, finally coming to rest at the woman's face, staring her dead in the eyes until it became painfully awkward.

"Come on," she said, her voice oozing urgency, as she took a step closer to where Trevor stood. In response, Trevor mirrored the woman's action but in reverse, taking a step backwards and maintaining the distance between them. The mafioso took another step forward. Trevor took another step backwards. They repeated this at least another three times until Trevor's back bumped up against the wall. The woman put her gun away with extreme caution, thinking the boy was afraid of the weapon.

She held out her hand, a warm inviting gesture. "Hey, kid. Come on, it's not safe here." As she spoke, part of the ceiling collapsed behind her, a volley of explosions erupting in the distance. Trevor reacted not to the woman, but to the explosions, removing his suit jacket and wrapping it around his neck, head, and face military style, like a Shemagh. He didn't want to breathe in any of the smoke or debris flying around, and his thin little undershirt wasn't cutting it as a filter. As the pilot of a particularly powerful box weapon, he took his dietary and bodily habits seriously.

Trevor never once broke eye contact with the woman, even as he finished with the jacket. He simply stared at her, his face stolid, his eyes unyielding in intensity. When it looked like she was going to reach out and grab him, Trevor crouched down, as if he were going to take off in a sprint at any moment. At the same time, an inhuman cry rang out across the auditorium, rattling the very walls themselves. The mafioso woman heard it as well, shuddering instinctively. She held up her hands in surrender. "Alright kid, suit yourself. Just get out of here, okay?"

Trevor didn't respond, electing instead to continue staring, his monotonous gray eyes boring into the woman like a drill. She turned and drew her gun again, running off into the thick dusty gloom of smoke and debris. It seemed to him that the Vongola were beginning to recover from the Rizzo's surprise attack, and were organizing their members in an attempt to defend their guardians.

Not like it'd make a difference. Trevor gripped the exclusive disk he received from the Vongola Storm guardian close to his chest, ensuring it would not be damaged by flying debris. The Rizzo were unstoppable, even when they were ordered by their boss to be merciful. A hundred years is a very long time for things to grow and shift and change.

To evolve.

Their technology. Their box weapons. Their flames. The Rizzo were simply the more advanced beings. And it showed now, in this skirmish between the two families. The Vongola were exactly as the history books described them to be. They were... Trevor looked down at the disk held to his chest, sighing softly through his nose. They were pretty cool to meet in person, but weren't at all the legends they've come to be known as back in the future. Not yet.

They were just—

A sound like an inbound missile caused Trevor's ears to perk up. He'd heard this sound too many times before as a frontline soldier in the war against the invaders. It was like a high-pitched whine that got deeper and deeper until—BOOM!

Something smashed into the wall a dozen or so meters from where Trevor stood, kicking up yet another plume of dirt and debris that rolled over the area like a tidal wave. The boy shielded his face with his forearm, averting his eyes as the smoggy cloud overtook him. Trevor rolled out of the smog, coughing lightly. Clear on the other side of the auditorium—practically an archaic American football field away from where Trevor currently stood—he made out the silhouette of Flandre, the Rizzo Dark Matter guardian. Judging by the damage to the wall behind her and the look of her gear, it would seem that a Newtonian reaction had occurred between her and...

Trevor looked to his right, at the thing that crash landed into the wall, but only saw a mound of rubble. As the translucent dust cloud cleared, he noticed movement. Suddenly, the rubble exploded, pulverized by whatever was trying to free itself from the crushing pile of cement chunks and fragmented rebar. Out from the debris crawled what Trevor could only describe as a monster, its body shrouded in an inky red-tipped frenetic blackness that ebbed and flowed chaotically, like... like... was that a flame?

The monster glanced to the left and then to the right in quick furious succession before its beady red eyes landed on the boy. Concurrently, Trevor recognized the beast. The contour of its body, the shape of its face, the length of its arms and legs, its height, it's hair... was this Namine 'The Tempest' Gokudera? Was this the Vongola Storm guardian?

Trevor frowned slightly, attempting to further process what he saw, but was jolted from his thoughts when the monster unleashed a primal shriek in his direction, the noise a deafening dissonance that shattered any semblance of thought and focus. All he could do in response was cover his ears with his hands, screwing his eyes shut.

The auditory attack lasted for what seemed like an eternity before finally subsiding. "Trevor, watch out!" came the faint echo of a distant yet familiar voice, but the boy failed to register the sound on account of the high-pitched chime ringing in his ears—an aftereffect of his eardrums nearly rupturing. Trevor righted himself, slowly opening his eyes and fighting back the sensation of vertigo, his vision blurry. Before him was a flame monster, a dark demon, a being of wrath. It was something that wasn't a Vongola ability... something that was never in any of the history books.

Immediately, a new sensation filled his head—a comfortably familiar one. His box weapon, known in the future as the Conflagration or "C" Frame—a tiny black cube that hung from a bracelet on his wrist—had detected its wearer's physical and psychological stress. It was attempting to power itself on. Initially, Trevor embraced the sensation, eager to partake in the promise of power, protection, and familiarity that the C-Frame offered, but stopped just short of bringing it out. Alastor's order came to the forefront of his conscious mind, dampening his urge to use the weapon. His orders were to stay put. He was not to reveal the existence of the C-Frame. He was not to engage any of the Vongola guardians. He was not to kill.

This internal conflict caused Trevor to hesitate, and in that hesitation the flame monster attacked, skittering forward on all fours in the most alien manner conceivable. Trevor held out his hand, palm facing his attacker, the universal symbol for "stop". He used his other hand to clutch the disk to his chest. From there, things began to move in extremely slow motion for the boy, his mind racing, his heart pounding on his chest. An acrid smell filled his nostrils—the smell of foreign earth, singed metal, and smoldering bodies. The vivid sounds of machines—the human defenders, frames, similar in design to his own C-Frame—roaring to life overtook his ears, drowning out the incessant ringing. Glancing down at his feet, the ground on which he stood was not the splintered ruins of some Vongola facility, but consisted of red clay-like sand.

He instantly knew where he was. The battle of Olympus Mons. Mars.

"Incoming!" came a commanding voice. "Hold!" The words seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere all at the same time.

Looking back up, what Trevor saw rushing at him now was not a raging flame beast, but a hostile enemy alien armor, its body like a mass of black and gunmetal tentacles in a shape vaguely resembling that of a human being's, its various parts in constant flux, shifting and turning in on themselves at odd intervals. The enemy armor was oozing maroon flame, its jagged metal teeth bared with intent to kill.

And again it screamed at him, though this time the sound came out as more of an electronic reverberation, like a tone from one of those old dial-up modems.

Upon laying eyes on the enemy armor, Trevor felt something pierce through the numbness of his continued existence: vulnerability. He felt like his life and the lives of his friends, his family, were in grave danger. He felt it deep in the core of his being, like a hand clenching his heart, yet he felt as if he had no control over what was happening before him. He had no control. He could only watch.

Just like that day.

The enemy armor reared up, its foremost tentacles reconfiguring themselves into jagged blades, the deep maroon flames of Quasar coalescing into a fine line along the blades' edges. Immediately, the creature neutralized the two of the human frames that stood to either side of Trevor, stabbing the machines straight through their chest compartments. He didn't have to look over his shoulder to know that the pilots were killed in the resulting Quasar-fueled explosions. Trevor stood there, a frozen pilot, as the enemy armor spun and skittered, targeting him, the bizarre machinations of its armor proving both eerily enthralling and utterly terrifying.

The alien's flaming blade reached him, punching through his chest like a fist through tissue paper.

Trevor bowed his head, looking down at where the mass of tentacles had torn through his shirt and into his body. Blood pooled at the edge of his lips. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't speak. He could barely move. It was as if he were drowning in molasses. Or the cruor of his fallen comrades. Darkness licked at the edges of his vision, quickly gaining ground until his world faded entirely to black, the finality of it all settling across his shoulders like a dense blanket, sealing his fate.

And then someone called his name.



"You!" Keiko screamed at the man, "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!!"

Fredrick gave her a perplexed gaze, "Umm... Keiko?"

She rammed the man to the ground, headbutted him, screamed at him, and even dug her nails into his arms. Fredrick stood in awe of Keiko's rage. She's hurting him. I must save him! That's what Serlina would say! he thought, hyping himself up. He looked down at his arm where Serlina rested, sealing his wound with what remained of her body. Without the purified flame produced by the stolen Rain ring, he wasn't sure how long she'd last outside of the box. The mere notion of her not fluttering about and chattering in his mind at her leisure was like peering over the cliff and into an endless abyss of loneliness, and it scared him. Scared him more than anything had ever scared him in his entire life.

"UOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!" Keiko screamed, as if she were inspired by the howls of Flandre's enemy.

Tears started to shape in his eyes as he saw Kieko beating the poor man in a berserk fury. Despite the melancholy that tugged at him, Fredrick knew he had a duty—an obligation!—to make sure his friend didn't beat up other people randomly. "Keiko, No!" he yelled, running up behind her and throwing his arms around her shoulders. He interlocked his wrists in an attempted bear hug, injecting into his friend whatever remained of his quickly diminishing stores of Rain flame with the hope that the flame's tranquility attribute would pacify her. "Please, Stop it Keiko! You're hurting him!"

Sora looked at the rampant attacks of this era's "apex predator". Hmmm, didn't expect her to go wild like that... I'll really have to tone down the illusion. Maybe the head on the spear thing with her friend, may just not be a good idea, he thought. He pulled out a small pad, pen and wrote Do not show friend's head on spear. Results: Crazy. *Check mark* *Smiley face*. She continued her onslaught, while Sora walked up to her slowly. He glanced over at the raging Namine covered in an unknown flame and fighting Flandre. Are all women in the Vongola monsters? he pondered.

"K-k-keiko! Why are you hurting one of the Vongola!" he yelled out. She was attacking a Vongola mafia guard thinking it was Sora the whole time. His words started to become more slurred as his eyes poured tears, "Stop it!"

"Ewwww, she's really hurting him," he commented seeing the blood ooze out of the man. "A left hook, headbutt! Ouch! Oh! Kill em! Go SuperNova!" Sora ran up to her side, a safe distance away and begun cheering, pumping his arms like a fan at a rock concert.

Elizabeth noted the raging Namine and the berserk Keiko. After analyzing this unusual occurrence, she shifted her sights towards Alastor. "Brother," she paused, "What it this? Do all people of this time go wild when fighting? Do I need to scream as well?"

Unlike the others, Hildegarde was still standing behind both Sora and the rabid Vongola, but was not paying the gaggle much attention. She was focused solely on Shaji Ai, who was standing further off and to the side of the berserk Sun guardian and the Rain whelp. With the younger image of Alastor out of harm's way, it was long past time she got what she came here for.

Hildegarde rolled what remained of her hard candies between her fingers, deliberating over which technique to utilize. She was simply spoiled for options, and was completely out of patience. A dangerous combination for a woman so inclined. She began walking towards the girl, cracking her knuckles and stomping her feet in order to draw the probe's attention.

No more games. The alien traitor would hand over the ring or they'd be scrubbing what remained of its mind slave off the wall.

"Trevor, watch out!" Flandre shouted, her words carrying over to where the others stood. The Rizzo famiglia pivoted in unison, their collective sight focusing on the raging Nami, who was bearing down on Trevor clear on the other side of the auditorium. Without a moment's hesitation, Miku and Hildegarde surged forward like the twin turbines of a fighter jet. The Comet guardian streaked across the floor, leaving a trail of pale blue flames and frost in her wake. Hildegarde took to the air, rocketing towards the scene like an ICBM.

Unfortunately, Nami in all her rage was simply too fast, and they were much too far away to make it in time. In a blinding flare of black and red, she smashed into the Rizzo Moon guardian, bathing the area in her unknown flames. Miku and Hildegarde screeched to a halt a couple dozen meters away, looks of horror upon their faces. Back on the other side of the room, little Alastor puffed out his chest and stepped forward, fully intending to join the others in exacting sweet revenge on this primitive brute, but his elder image placed a hand on his shoulder, restraining him.

"You and I are done here," the elder Alastor muttered.

The flareup of red and black flames that enshrouded the vicinity died down a moment later. Trevor stood, untouched, his hand still outstretched before him. Mere millimeters from the side of his face was Nami's inflamed claw-like hand, moments from rending the boy's skull in two. It was as if Nami were suspended in timelessness, though it quickly became evident that that was not the case.

Standing directly behind Nami was Donovan. He had a firm grip on the Storm Vongola's wrist.

"Woah there, beasty," he said, his voice uncharacteristically sharp. The look on his face was positively murderous. "One more inch and I would've atomized you." He increased his grip on the Vongola's wrist, enough that his knuckles turned white. Any more force and he'd break it. "Understand?"

The beast didn't move at all as he spoke to it. Not a single inch. It wasn't that she didn't have the desire to move so much as she couldn't. Donovan, in maintaining physical contact with the girl, had not only robbed her of all of her momentum by injecting his flame into her, but was continually robbing her of any momentum she might acquire through any sort of movement. He'd effectively petrified the raging beast in its tracks.

"Trev."

At hearing Donovan call his name, Trevor recoiled noticeably, as if waking up from a nightmare. He blinked a few times, reorienting himself with his surroundings. Donovan frowned in sympathy. He was pretty sure he knew why his friend froze against the Storm guardian. Being a frontline soldier in a war for the survival of humanity meant seeing a lot of things that ought not be seen, and experiencing sensations that ought not be experienced. When not piloting his box weapon, Donovan noticed that, from time to time, Trevor would mentally lapse back into his own past battles, reliving his worst moments.

That's the price of being a hero. The part they don't put in the brochure.

Trevor gently placed his hand on Nami's cheek, nearly cupping the side of her face in his small extremity. Her rogue flame parted before his fingers like the red sea. Trevor stared into the girl's ruby red eyes, and she stared right back. Donovan could feel the intensity of their connection through his grip on the girl's wrist, and soon let go of her entirely. Instead of rushing forward and finishing her attack, Nami fell to her knees. Trevor followed her down, kneeling alongside her, never removing his hand from the side of her face.

There were no words. There was no exchange of blows. Nami's chaotic flame simply ceased to be, replaced entirely with an oddly luminous gray-white flame that manifested itself around the girl but for an instant before it, too, ceased. Nami crumpled, falling forward onto Trevor like a ton of bricks, but Donovan caught her before they both hit the ground, lowering her gently.

Donovan gave the Vongola guardian a quick once over. Flandre had definitely shown her what for. As far as he could tell, the vast majority of her bones were broken or fractured in some way.

Hopefully she'd survive, or the timeline might be in trouble.

Donovan winced, looking down at the hand he'd used to grip the Nami's wrist. His palm was burnt pretty badly, the withered and blackened skin interspersed with patches of red and pink. It was as if he'd reached out and touched a hot iron. Whatever that weird flame was, it was unlike anything he'd ever encountered before.

Trevor, his face still wrapped in his own makeshift mask, looked up at Donovan with his usual intractable gaze. His numbingly gray eyes would give even Medusa a run for her money. They were the eyes of someone who had encountered far more than their fair share. Donovan broke eye contact first, looking off to the side instead. Miku and Hildegarde were rapidly approaching, but he wasn't looking at them. Over towards the other side of the auditorium, around where the younger image of Alastor fought with the Vongola's Rain guardian, stood none other than Alastor. The current one. The real one. One moment there was nothing, and then in the next, he was there.

Donovan sighed in bitter disappointment. It would seem that his opportunity to take the Lightning ring had just expired.

Sitting there, Flandre was able to take a breather as her fellow guardians dealt with Nami. As she sat there, she examined the damage to her leg. The wheel had snapped right off, the armor connecting it to the ankle having been broken off like a cracker. It must have been a weak point. Maybe Storm's property had low defensive qualities or her own flames weren't very pure, for Flandre's armor to have broken like that. Of course, her weapons, especially her Colorwheel, were near indestructible. The Colorwheel, supposedly, was able to shield from a nuclear blast. The wheel, still connected to the armor where it had broken off lay motionless on its side. Pulling her singed gown out of the way, Flandre bent her leg so she could examine it closer. Her socked foot was exposed and was clearly intact, she could wiggle her toes weakly. It was still useless as a foot however.

The rest of her armor seemed intact as well. The other foot, or rather, wheel was still intact and functioning and so were both her arms, weapons still firm in her grasp. The shield arm was nearly identical to the sword arm, yet Flandre very rarely let go of the shield, so it was deeply embedded in a little mechanism inside the shield, which gave her her iron grasp. There was also a little bit of space between which was probably the safest place to put any very small object, in this case, the CD Nami gave her.

Once Flandre was finished examining the damage to herself, she watched the other Rizzo guardians deal with Nami, her target. Alastor made it rather clear about how each and every one of them was responsible for taking a ring from their own specified targets so the Vongolas didn't interfere with any of the other Rizzos in an attempt to protect each other, or something like that. It seemed as if they dealt with her without too much trouble, however, thanks to their flames. That was the disadvantage of having featureless flames, one always came in last. Although, she did notice one thing, they didn't take her ring for some reason. Perhaps they were honoring what they agreed?

Flandre used both her sword and shield to support her as she heaved herself up. She only had one usable leg while she held the other up behind her. Although, her Colorwheel was technically one giant wheel, which she could rotate with her mechanical arms of which had no limit compared to human joints, like an owl's neck or something. Flandre experimented , wheeling herself forward with her foot and the shield, putting her weight on the shield. It was a little odd, considering the small wheel had to move much faster than the big one, but she could manage it. Dropping her sword, Flandre wheeled her way over to the girl's body on the ground, where Trevor and Donovan were standing.

Wheeling herself right next to her, she examined her. The ring was still on her finger where she placed it. The girl was clearly broken, defenseless, helpless. Flandre could have dropped her shield on her and she'd shatter into a million pieces and she considered it, as a repayment for nearly leaving her immobile. Yet she didn't. Perhaps out of satisfaction that she had completely broken the girl, or perhaps out of some form of mercy, although the latter was highly unlikely. Flandre bent over using her shield as a support and took the ring off her finger using her pointy fingertips. Standing back up, she brought it close to her face to examine it. A wide grin appeared on her face.

"I got it!" Flandre called, like some child proud over finding something of less worth. Nonetheless, it brought her joy as she placed it on her finger. Of course, it was useless for lighting flames as Flandre wouldn't be able to light a Storm property flame. She looked around at her fellow guardians for some sort of approval, when realization dawned on her that hardly any of the other guardians have received any rings yet. She giggled as she brought the ring up to her lips. "I got the ring~" she bragged, "There are many like it, bu~ut this one's mine."

Eri made her way through the debris, walking towards where the most people had congregated in, her eyes locked onto the form of Namine enveloped in dark flames.

"Keiko, No!" Fredrick yelled, running up behind her and throwing his arms around her shoulders. He interlocked his wrists in an attempted bear hug, injecting into his friend whatever remained of his quickly diminishing stores of Rain flame with the hope that the flame's tranquility attribute would pacify her. "Please, Stop it Keiko! You're hurting him!"

Rage-filled and mindless, Keiko tried to swipe at Fredrick behind her, roaring all the while. She managed to pull Fredrick from her back and slammed him into the ground. Right before she was about to deliver a possibly devastating punch.

"KEIKO!" Eri yelled as she reached in time to see this, sounding stern.

Keiko instantly stopped, staring at Eri. Slowly her wildness began to subside and her eyes began to recognize her surroundings properly. Eri walked towards her.

"E...Eri? But I thought..." Keiko began, walking over to Eri only to get a very loud slap across the face. Keiko stepped back, shocked by the blow.

"What are you doing? I thought you were better than this, self-proclaimed Champion." Eri reprimanded her, "Aren't you supposed to protect us? You're attacking the Vongola instead."

"Eri... I... ya were dead." Keiko said quietly, rubbing her stinging cheek.

"Nonsense Keiko." Eri said, walking over with her fist raised. "Who was the one who told me not to lose until she could beat me?"

"Dammit Ri-chan." Keiko fist-bumped Eri, her trademark smirk returning to her lips. "Ya know I can defeatcha wheneva I wanna."

The dynamic duo turned to face their adversaries. "That'll have to wait for another day, right now, we have guests to attend to."

Keiko's eyes seemed to come alive yet again, her confidence stronger than ever. She stared as Eri ran off towards Nami's direction. Eri had always been the only one who could quell her rage, this time was no different. Seeing that she was safe and sound was enough to fuel Keiko with the strength of a million Suns... and that, was enough. That in mind, she faced Sora and the suited man.

"I really think ya should hand ovah those rings ya took from us."

It was not a suggestion. It was a demand.

"Nami!" Eri called out, staring at the crumpled figure and then at the other three around, two young boys and a girl, two of which Nami had given her CDs to. "I just want to take her away."

As Eri knelt down to pick Nami up, she could feel bones shifting. 'She broke her bones?!'

"MEDIC TEAM, we need temporary healing, stat!" Eri called out, with the result of two Vongolas rushing to their aid. The two quickly worked on Nami, temporary healing her for safe transportation before she could be properly healed.

"You did that to a person who was kind to you." Eri spoke to the three. "Whatever your motives are, people like you don't mean well."

Eri stared at Flandre, something beginning to surface underneath her calm, icy eyes as she spoke, "I'm afraid that ring is the property of the Vongola. I'm going to have to take it back."