Snippet #2388777

Trevor awoke to an odd sensation, similar to vertigo, but not exactly. Without thinking twice, he sent out a thought to the C-Frame, asking it how much time had passed since he'd arrived, and how long he'd been asleep. The cube on his wrist responded instantly. It'd only been fifteen minutes, roughly. Mentally assessing himself, various words came to mind: Exhausted. Drained. Headache. Hungry. Frustrated. Annoyed. Despite all that, he seemed to exude a sense of complete—even eerie—tranquility, an expression of pure indifference stamped upon his face, arms crossed about his chest, demeanor lax and unexciting. Internally, however, different conflicting thoughts spun wildly about as he struggled for focus. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, clearing his mind as best he could.

Ugh. Stupid cheater thunder guardian he pouted. Scenes of the previous battle entered his mind, though they stopped just short of its sordid conclusion. The mass-produced stock versions of the C-Frame shipped with quite a few supplementary components, from internal box weapons, melee armaments, extra shield generators, and various other goodies—including surge protections to guard against electrical overload. His frame had them all at one point as well, but with each addition came a trade-off: cost in fiamma volts—raw flame power. Even with his superior skill when compared to the other pilots of his time, Trevor was already pushing it by going into lower restrictions with his small body. Just the flame-powered melee armaments alone cut his maximum runtime down by a fifth, which was deemed unacceptable by the researchers at the Facility. It was for this reason that most "non-critical components" were stripped from his armor—melee weapons, external shielding, electrical surge protection, et cetera—though he did retain the overclocked artificial intelligence and a few extra internal box weapons, such as the custom made anti-flame cannon stored in the oral area of the C-Frame's helmet.

But now he needed that surge protection component back if he was going to deal with the thunder users of this time. Such flame types were extremely rare in the future—even non-existent. Not only did the atmospheric modifications brought about by the World Engine make lightning hard to use, but it had very little efficacy against the alien enemy in battle. Their opposing frames were effectively immune. "Stupid past," he muttered, chewing on his lower lip. The cool shade of the tree was doing wonders for his headache.

Well, he couldn't just go back to the future and have a new component installed. Even if Kurai could send him back, it'd be extremely hard for him to come back again on his own. Hmm... I guess I could look into taking some parts from the Moscas of this time or something... He nodded to himself, adding that to his list of things he wanted to look into during his stay in this foreign time.

Before his mind could wander on to less agreeable topics, Trevor heard a sound, like a jet flying high overhead. It was distant at first, but grew steadily in intensity until he felt rather than heard the impact of something landing off to his side. BOOM! The ground shook with the force of the landing. Some leaves were rattled loose from the tree under which Trevor currently took refuge, floating down to land around his feet. He didn't even have to look at the visitor, so he didn't, maintaining his icy distant glare. He already knew who it was. After a moment, Donovan wordlessly took a seat next to him. Other than his own breath and the melodic chirping of birds somewhere in the distance, there was only silence. Though Trevor refused to give any indication of acknowledgement, Donovan's presence made him forget about his grinding migraine.

Things always seemed better when he was around. Trevor could never figure out why.

As with every conversation they had, it was Donovan who made the first move. "It’s not your fault you know." While his demeanor remained stoic, internally, Trevor balked at the older boy's words. "I know the first time killing someone is hard, believe me, I don't like it either, but you can't beat yourself up about it. If you shoulder the guilt, it will eat you alive." He frowned, looking down at his hands. He hadn't noticed that he'd been twiddling his thumbs. But... He opened his mouth to speak, but, after a moment, closed it again. This was his fault. He was supposed to be a hero! A savior of humanity, fighting the glorious fight against the alien scourge for the boon of all mankind.

With a naivete fathomable only to a twelve-year-old, Trevor believed that everyone was on the same side in the conflict against the aliens. Why would humans fight amongst themselves with such a great threat looming over the horizon? He felt now that he'd perverted the purpose of his existence in using his box weapon to... to...

To murder. His conscious would never let him forget it. But he had to be loyal to the Rizzo, to Kurai...

Trevor screwed his eyes shut, trying to reconcile this internal contradiction against all logic. He'd either be loyal to Kurai or be the hero he wanted to be—but not both. This zero-sum game was lose-lose. All of his thoughts were spinning together into one massive emotional deluge, dragging him deeper and deeper into its morose depressing depths, drowning him in its darkness.

In the next moment, Trevor was snapped back into reality. He blinked once, twice, somewhat disoriented. That's when he noticed what'd saved him. Donovan had wrapped his arm around his shoulder, a comforting gesture. For the first time since he landed, Trevor looked Donovan in the eye, and was met with a warm smile. "That’s why I try to shoulder their dreams instead." Trevor's eyes grew big, his ill thoughts temporarily banished by the contemplation of this new ideal. "His wish was to be strong right? Then you have to be strong for him!"

Several thoughts occurred to Trevor nearly simultaneously. You could see it in his eyes. However, it was short-lived, his expression returning to that of tranquil disinterest. As if just realizing that he was within Donovan's embrace, Trevor attempted to worm his way out of it. He wasn't strong enough to break Donovan's hold on his own, but the older boy had been around Trevor long enough to know when he wanted some space, and so loosened his grasp. Slipping out from under Donovan's arm, Trevor pushed himself to his feet, taking several steps out of the shade and into the sunlight. He was staring off into the distance again.

"I guess we're done with them?" It was more of a statement than a question. He wondered how many of the Vongola were able to survive. If they'd been dealt with, maybe the Rizzo could all go back home. Plus, he couldn't help but be a little interested in the battle's outcome. There was no way any member of his famiglia could have lost. Inconceivable. "We should probably go meet the others, right?"