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Alastor Lorenzo Koenig

I'm talking about base jumping without a parachute. What are you, scared?

0 · 733 views · located in Katekyo Hitman Reborn! universe

a character in “Katekyo Hitman Reborn!: The new generation RM”, as played by Xunnamius

Description

Alastor Lorenzo Koenig
"Huh? Oh, hi. Nice to meet you. Are you doing well? That's nice."

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Age: 16
Gender: Male?
Affiliation: Rizzo





5' 6.5" 110 lbs. Average build for his age group. Stringy black hair that comes down to around his ears towards the front and his neck towards the back, though its usually parted to the side so that it doesn't get in his eyes. Sky blue eyes. While he's not all that strong or muscular, he is excellent at hand to hand melee and isn't too shabby with a gun, either; in fact, he's been called a prodigy when it comes to knife fighting. It is for these reasons that his forearms and biceps are particularly toned when compared to the rest of his body. He can often be seen wearing his bomber hat and oversized hooded jacket, complete with fur detailing, as if he were about to go for a hike in the Alaskan tundra. He often wears several rings on his fingers, but they're just normal rings.



Personality

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Personal Traits: Though outwardly he seems like a very charming and likeable individual, his true personality under the mask is remarkably different. He does not consider "right vs wrong"; has no problem lying to anyone at anytime and is generally manipulative; is egocentric—believes himself superior to others; he lacks both empathy and remorse—has no problem killing an enemy (or a bystander or even an ally) if they happen to represent an obstacle to him; and he's an ardent risk taker, though, at the same time, he could be considered a skilled strategist.

Likes: Being around people; manipulating people; taunting people; fighting people; hard liquor (more for the challenge presented by the fact that he can't obtain it legally); listening to music, especially during battle; (delicious) cake; random unexpected things

Dislikes: Chess and people that talk about chess, other strategists, not getting what he wants, failing, young kids (their "innocence"—he calls it naivete—annoys him)

Outwardly and at first impression, Alastor, who prefers you call him "Al," is a pretty nice guy. Very eloquent. Very charming. He always greets new people in the same polite manner: "Hello." "Nice to meet you." "Are you doing well?" "That's nice." Underneath the facade, however, is a very different person: a cold, calculating combat artist who will risk anything and use any method to get what he wants, and damn those that get in his way. "Winning," in whatever shape or form, is everything. The ends will always justify the means.

In respect to taking life, Alastor has no reservations. He'd rather not kill, simply because it's such a messy affair, but if the easiest route is through someone, he'll walk all over them. He agreed to become one of Kurai's guardians and take her orders for the simple fact that Kurai interests him greatly. In his opinion, she is perhaps the most fascinating person he's ever encountered. It is this curiosity about her backstory, her present, and what she'll do in the future that holds his attention, and allows him to remain as a functioning member of the Rizzo family.

Alastor's relation with Trevor is tumultuous at best. He believes he should have been the one to pilot the original AI-symbiote prototype armor, but the child Trevor was chosen over him. He holds a grudge against the boy to this day for that, even though he was still able to become the Rizzo family's Comet guardian. He rarely expresses his discontent overtly due to his apprehension of possible retaliation from Donovan. He also believes Bellona to be mentally unstable, though, again, this is not a thought he frequently articulates. For his part, Trevor is virtually unaware of Alastor's animus.

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Abilities and Equipment

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Flame type: Comet

Tools/Weapons: An assortment of various handles for bladed weapons, ranging from small dagger handles to machete and sword/katana handles. Each handle is missing the actual blade edge. When he charges the weapon with his deathperation flame, the blade adapts the conflagration as its edge, allowing him to do battle with melee weapons that also embody the attributes of his flame—namely freezing/ice. He also carries on his person at least one handgun at all times. This gun can also be charged with deathperation flames as well, allowing the bullets to embody the freezing/ice attribute, similar to the blade edges.

Abilities: Alastor's "hard" comet flame is able to freeze anything it touches if the user so wills it, including other flames. The efficacy of his flame's ability to rapidly remove the heat from objects is on par with or at times exceeds that of Vongola Decimo's Zero Point Breakthrough: First Edition. Alastor can also use his comet flames defensive "soft" manner in that anything that enters the area occupied by the flame will be slowed and cooled to near zero, similar to the tranquility attribute of the rain flames. He can expand his flame output to cover large areas, using this soft version of his flame to create shields, barriers, and traps. Machines entering this barrier will usually malfunction almost immediately, eventually breaking altogether. Humans that remain within this barrier without some sort of protection (like an astronaut's suit) will eventually die after a minute or so of exposure.

It is the soft version of his flame that he uses to give his handles their blade edges. Note that he can transition from hard and soft comet flames at will!

Box Weapons: Blade Engine Armadillo: His box weapon is the "Blade Engine Armadillo," which is a box animal that holds a vast store of different weapons and weapon handles. The animal is able to "shoot" these weapons out of various cannons and slots it has all over its body, changing the battlefield as its user demands.

The Box Weapon is controlled through hand signals from its user. It can provide Alastor with a variety of weapons, from daggers to blades to great swords to guns and everything inbetween. His favorite guns are the shotgun and the desert eagle, though their design is somewhat antiquated by future standards. Still, like most of his bladeless weapons, they are fragile and break if strained.

The BEA also has an "Ironclad" mode, in which Alastor uses the Box Weapon as a type of armor, as well as a magnetic mode, allowing it to manipulate the trajectory of any launched weapon mid-flight. Quite dangerous if use offensively.

Weaknesses: Alastor is susceptible to taunts, especially when he's not winning. Normally, it takes quite a bit to make him blow his top, but he will get very angry very quickly if he thinks he's losing. Just beware: if you make him angry enough, he'll definitely want to take your life. He is also impulsive and spiteful, and will disobey an order or deny the request of a friend/ally if he believes his time would be better spent accomplishing a goal of his—makes him not the best team player. He is also nearsighted.



Backstory (Biography)

His mother was the granddaughter of an infamous arms trafficker—one of the three hailed as the fathers of all Box Weapon tech—and a neutral hitman who frequently contracted herself out to various families, usually to assist in tasks said families themselves were not strong enough to accomplish on their own. Alastor himself was the last born child in a family of ten. His father was a government researcher who worked at the US Department of Defense before he disappeared off the face of the Earth.

At 12, he was recommended to join the pool of potential candidates for the AI-symbiote experiments a while after the aliens first started attacking Earth. After passing the final qualifying level, he was told that he was actually just a backup candidate in case their main test subject expired. He never did get to pilot the prototype C-Frame—though he was able to pilot one of the lesser mass produced versions that would come out a couple of years later. Alastor came to know the name of the subject that he felt had robbed him of his glorious position as the "alpha tester" of humanity's prime weapon against the aliens: Trevor.

Eventually, he met Kurai, and was instantly enthralled by her very existence. It wasn't long before he became her Comet guardian. Some time later, when she called a gathering of the Rizzo family in preparation for time travel, the prospect of doing battle in the past made Alastor ecstatic. Unfortunately for him, he arrived late and they had to leave without him. It took several of the Rizzo family's lesser Space flame users working in tandem to send him back through time after the rest of the Rizzo guardians, though he still arrived considerably late.

So begins...

Alastor Lorenzo Koenig's Story

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Character Portrait: Alastor Lorenzo Koenig
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It was a little past dawn when Alastor stepped outside of the coffee shop, avoiding a few small circular tables, each seated by two or three chattering tweens. Blehk. He held what looked to be a blueberry muffin in one hand, cavalierly and off to the side, as if he had no problem with letting it slip from his grasp at a moment's inconvenience. In the other hand, he held a tight grip on a pale-white styrofoam cup. Steam wafted from it in waves—a testament to the lava-like properties of its contents—particularly where the skin of his hand made contact with the cup itself. Upon closer inspection, one would notice a watery blue substance acting as a buffer between his hand and the steaming hot beverage. The styrofoam cup itself was adorned with a square dark-green logo and the words "Squarebucks Coffee" in white. Breakfast of champions.
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Humming, Alastor skipped around the circular tables as if he were a Broadway dancer, deftly avoiding collisions with coffee lovers at each turn. In response, the various patrons of Squarebucks shot him dirty glares, but he couldn't care less. All these losers were dead back where he was from, anyway. He briefly pondered announcing that. "You're all dead in the future!" He decided against it as he reached the sidewalk though. He wasn't all that fond of pointing out the obvious.

That's when he remembered he had a blueberry muffin in his hand. With a smirk, he opened wide and took a particularly large bite... before suddenly voiding the contents of his mouth onto the sidewalk beside him. "Blehk! That's disgusting!" He complained to no one in particular, his tongue hanging from his mouth in a comical fashion. He spit a few more times, trying unsuccessfully to get rid of the taste. An older couple walking up the sidewalk in the opposite direction gave him a look. With his mouth still lolling, tongue out, eyes wide and fraught with displeasure, he stared right back. There was an unnerving sort of eccentricity within his expression. The look of a guy that is capable of anything. "What are you lookin' at?!" He spouted viciously, tossing the remainder of the muffin to the ground and stomping on it a few times for good measure. The couple averted their gaze, walking past him.

"How do you people eat this crap?" He asked as the two walked by. They didn't respond, ignoring him, so he turned and shouted at their backs. "Even the crappy future foods are a thousand times better than this! What are you doing with your lives?!" Satisfied, he turned and continued on his way, scraping the muffin bits from the bottom of his shoe with each step, humming again. That's when he remembered the steaming-hot cup of coffee in his other hand. They called it a "Mocha Frappuccino," which baffled Alastor to no end. What in the actual hell could this Moe-cha Frap-puk-keyno be? He blamed his incessant curiosity for forcing him into buying it. He just had to know what it was and why so many people around him were ordering it.

Don't ask where he got the money from. It's a somewhat long story involving three other people and a machete.

Earlier, when he had first grasped the styrofoam, he quickly discovered that it was hot. Very hot. So hot, in fact, that he had to use the cooling effect of his Comet flames to stop from dropping the cup in sheer surprise. Still buzzing along with the swagger of a man who is completely content with himself, Alastor turned the corner, taking a sip of the frothy beverage. Frowning slightly, he took another sip. And then another, smacking his lips like a professional wine taster. Towards the middle of the block sat a homeless man. Alastor stopped walking and just stared at him. "Not bad" he commented to the man, who raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"You talkin to me, kid?"

"Yes, I said 'not bad'." He held up the styrofoam cup in his hand. "Not bad at all. Nowhere near as good as the stuff in the future though. Not even close. You'll see." He looked somewhere off in the distance. "Or... maybe not. Who knows." He said, shrugging.

The homeless man gave him a blank stare, to which Alastor responded with a genuine smile before continuing his slow saunter. Shaking his head slightly, the homeless man eyed the kid's back as he rounded yet another corner. "Some odd people around here," he muttered under his breath.

Alastor dug in his pocket with his free hand, removing a piece of notebook paper. There seemed to be some sort of list written on its front side. Flipping the note over, he brought it closer to his face. On this new side, there was only one line: an address—something these humans of old used to identify distinct locations. It was so disgustingly primitive that he wanted to cry, but that wouldn't do in public, so instead he sighed heavily, hastily stuffing the piece of paper back in his pocket. How these people could stand to live such barbarous lives with their medieval technology was beyond him.

Fortunately, it wasn't long before he found his destination—though he did have to ask for directions on four separate occasions, which cost him some time, but he didn't really mind. It was early in the morning, and as long as he completed this little mission and returned in time to make it to this school they were supposedly going to attend, he'd be on schedule. It still didn't sit well with him, the prospect of "school". Things were much different in the future. These hairless primates and their travesty of an educational system... blehk. Then again it wasn't the prospect of schooling in and of itself that irked him. It was the fact that the Vongolas were still alive, and would be attending the same school. Stalking them on their own turf just seemed so... roundabout. Why not just wipe the entire school out. That way, there'd be zero chance of messing up, since everyone would be dead, Vongolas included. Perfection.

Eh. Whatever. Kurai's orders were absolute.

He was standing in front of a dilapidated auto-parts shop. A sign atop the rather large building read in big bold letters: K'S AUTO AND REPAIR. A smile appeared on Alastor's face. He'd finally arrived at the junk shop. Now he just needed to grab what he came for without too much commotion. If only things ever went that smoothly in real life.

Taking a quick look to his left and right, he concluded that he was alone on the street. People were still sleeping, or just waking up, getting ready for work or school or what not. Sucks to be them. Without further ado, Alastor walked up to the front entrance and tried to door's handle. Locked.

Of course.

He peeked in through a little square window atop the door, cupping his hands around his temples to get a better view. It was pitch black inside and he could see nothing. Grumbling, he took a few steps to his left and tried opening the large garage-door like entrance where cars were usually allowed in and out for repairs. Also locked.

Damn. Slightly annoying, but not unexpected.

Checking his surroundings one last time, Alastor slowly crept around the side of the building, eventually coming up to a door at the back of the complex, parallel to some shady service alley. Said door was of solid steel and completely featureless. No handles, no windows, nothing—save a keypad on the wall to the right. Raising an eyebrow, Alastor moved over to it, eyeing it from different angles. Baffling, that such primitive security devices were still in use. It being one hundred years in the past was no excuse. Alastor grabbed his chin. Then again, it does work to my favor!

With a yelp of glee, Alastor started pressing keys on the keypad. At first his keystrokes seemed random, but, after exactly twenty-three digits were entered, a blinking green light appeared above the pad, and the sound of the door's locking mechanism unhinging could be heard. "Nice," he muttered to himself, pushing the door open and closing it after him. He checked the inside of the door to make sure it had a handle. It did. He even tried it a few times, just to make sure he could use it to escape in a timely manner if necessary.

It was then that he turned to face the vast seemingly impenetrable blackness that occupied the room alongside him, his eyes slowly adjusting. A few dim strands of light leaked through the windows and glass garage door at the side of the building, a sign of the coming sun. Once his eyes completely adjusted to the darkness, Alastor was able to make out the faint adumbrations of various objects as he gave the room a once over. It was definitely an auto-parts shop, alright. Random tires; naked engines; cars suspended from the ceiling or on top of hydraulic lifts; tools, screws, and random bolts strewn across various tables; a lot of stuff. Car stuff.

However, Alastor wasn't here for this primitive tech.

Frowning, he surveyed the area once more. Everything about this time was just so... primitive. It was just the best word to describe it all. Primitive. "Primitive," he muttered very quietly to himself, a tinge of disgust evident in his voice. Blehk. It wasn't until his eyes adjusted a bit more and he was able to orient himself that he found what he was looking for. Two "doors," the exact same color as the wall, were over in the left corner, hidden behind the frame of a dismantled truck bed. He couldn't exactly see them per say, but, if memory served, he knew they'd be at that exact location. Alastor's soft disarming smile returned. In order to recognize that those gentle indents in the wall were actually doors—or even know where to look for them—you'd have to be intimately familiar with the layout of this building.

Luckily, he was. He'd read all about it, even explored it when he was allowed—though, in the future, it'd been heavily remodelled.

From his recollections of the place, he knew that the door on the left led downstairs, which is where he wanted to go; whereas, the door on the right lead up to this place's living quarters. The "secret" four bathroom three bedroom flat hidden atop the mechanic shop. The home was like a miniature mansion, and was loaded with enough tech to throw Bill Gates for a loop—or, so he'd been told. In the future, the "housing" piece had been dismantled, replaced by a command center.

But that's a different story. Right now, he was on a mission at the behest of Kurai.

As he bobbed and weaved through the mess of car parts to approach the wall where believed the hidden doors to have resided, Alastor briefly pondered taking the second door instead of the first and sneaking up on the unsuspecting people sleeping above. They wouldn't even know he was coming, and he'd be in complete control. I could even kill them. The thought of murdering these people in their sleep made Alastor grin, like a child unwrapping his first birthday present. Ultimately, he decided against it, as was usually the case with most of his... more "exotic" ideas. Nah, that'd probably mess up the timeline or something. Besides, too much mess for too little gain.

It was only because he was nodding in agreement with himself that he noticed a streak of neon green across the floor. He stopped mid-step, not moving a muscle. He'd caught the beam of green out of his peripheral vision, but he couldn't see it now. Tilting his head in various directions and angles, he eventually saw the flash of light again.

He recognized it. A motion detector. And he'd almost activated it.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he made a b-line for the nearest chopped car part lying on the ground. It was an engine that had been turned on its side. Someone was in the middle of tinkering with its internals. For Alastor, it represented an interruption in the motion detector's field of vision. Perfection. He'd also resumed scanning the room with his eyes, this time focused on the baseboards and upper walls, looking for any other security gadgets. He spotted a few, but they weren't any threat to him presently. They were pointed in other directions.

He'd gotten lucky. Sweet.

Finally reaching the doors, he began to feel his way along the surrounding wall until he came across a small playing card -sized indentation in the wall. He pressed on it twice in quick succession, causing the panel to raise, revealing yet another keypad. Typing quickly, Alastor entered a string of digits into this physical prompt as well, though the light blinked red instead of green—wrong code. He pursed his lips, entering the long string of digits once more, this time pressing harder on the keys. Again, it failed. "You piece of primitive garbage," he muttered, typing what he knew to be the key code a third time—though he pushed each button with a sage-like lack-of-speed, smashing each key with his index finger in what could only be described as a violent manner, obviously perplexed by the machine failing to accept the code.

This time, however, the light blinked green and the door slid open, accompanied by a loud click. Interestingly enough, it reminded Alastor of a shotgun round being chambered. What an odd noise—oh well. The secret door revealed an illuminated set of stairs, leading far down to yet another door with yet another keypad. This bulkhead door, however, unlike the previous ones, was reinforced. Extremely reinforced. Alastor remembered it from the future. It was fire-proof, and nothing short of a tactical nuke would get you past it. He took a casual sip of the coffee he still had in his hand, humming softly. The beverage had noticeably cooled, but it was still warm enough to be at least somewhat sating.

He wasn't sweating his predicament, for he had the code for this master door memorized as well. Perfection. He took a step—

"Take that step, kid, and you're dead." Came a cold voice from behind him. Instantly, Alastor put his hands up—or one hand, as he held the cup of coffee tight in the other—a universal sign of surrender. Though he knew this particular meeting was only a possibility, he was secretly hoping for this the entire time. Looks like I get to play.

"Hello," he started, turning slowly to face his aggressor, whom tensed ever so slightly at the kid's bold actions. "My name is Al. Alastor. Alastor L., but my friends call me Al." He now fully faced the man who was threatening him with a... hmm. Seemed to be some sort of old-world shotgun—well, "current" shotgun by this time's standards. Or, at least it looked like a shotgun. When dealing with people like this guy, Alastor knew that nothing was ever as first meets the eye. "You must be..." Alastor grinned, recognition dawning on his face, even though he could not see the man shrouded in shadow. "Well, I think I know who you are, old man. It's truly an honor to meet you. I've read so much. Big fan and all that. How are you doing this fine morning?"

The man with the gun did not respond, and was far enough away from Alastor that his face was effectively hidden in the pulpy twilight of the place. The silence in the room was deafening.

"Um... so I'll take it you're doing just fine then, sir?" He nodded slightly, oozing charm, eyebrows raised, face locked in a decidedly friendly countenance. "That's good." He somehow managed not to sound awkward, given the situation. If there wasn't a shotgun being aimed at someone's chest, the conversation might've passed as that of a reunion between friends.

Before Alastor could continue, the man spoke. "Listen, punk. I don't have patience for petty thieves." His voice was rough, his tone crass. He was a man who did not tolerate nonsense. "The only reason I haven't blown you half-way to kingdom come is because of what you just did there." He used the shotgun to motion towards the keypad on the wall. "How do you know that code? Who are you, boy? Make it quick."

Alastor's facade of the "polite and happy-go-lucky kid lost in a cruel cruel world" cracked slightly, a menacing smirk besmirching his otherwise innocent face. Without regard for his own life, he put his hand down and into his pocket, breaking the "I surrender" pose. He followed that by bringing the coffee cup to his lips and taking a long loud sip instead of responding to the question, keeping his eyes on the man in front of him. To his credit, said man didn't even flinch at Alastor's abrupt actions. He was obviously used to dealing with dangerous and/or rude people.

After another moment of silence, Alastor deigned to speak. "Petty?" He sounded offended. "Petty?! I've had some recurring... difficulties with the law, but nothing about me is petty, grampa." He drawled on "grampa," attempting to be snide. It was as if he didn't care that a gun was pointed at his chest. Grunting, he taking another sip of his coffee before continuing. "'Who am I,' though. Good question." He leaned against the door jam, demeanor completely cavalier—again, as if his life was in no possible danger. "You couldn't possibly recognize me, but I know all about you, Lorenzo."

For the first time, the man—Lorenzo—visibly reacted to something Alastor said. He lowered his gun ever-so slightly, his next words underlined with a mix of animus and curiosity. "What did you just say?"

Realizing that his words had had the intended effect, Alastor quickly pivoted on his heel, turning his back to Lorenzo, and quickly descended the stairs, giggling maniacally the whole way. Lorenzo followed him, moving to the top of the staircase and staring down at this intruder, gun still at bear, aiming at the Alastor's back. "Are you insane you little twerp? You've got three seconds to—"

Lorenzo was interrupted by the sound of his bulkhead door opening. The one that protected his work, his secret life. Not even his own son, who worked for the Vongolas, knew of what was down there—knew of Lorenzo's true occupation, or his infamy as a major player in the mafia underworld. No one... no one knew this stuff... his passwords, the layout of his garage. He'd never told a soul any of this information... so how does this little brat know so much about my operation?!

Downstairs, Alastor walked through the new opening and reached to the side for a light switch he already knew would be there. Even a hundred years later, this part of the warehouse hadn't changed. Throwing the switch, the whirl of aging electronics spinning to life could be heard somewhere in the background. After a moment, lights began flickering on, illuminating section by section the contents of a voluminous underground facility that stretched back into the distance. He knew exactly how large this place was: 583 acres or 2.36 square meters of underground land area in the shape of an octagon, though, currently, it was only 4.5 meters from ground to ceiling. In several decades, that would be changed as six extra layers are shoehorned in below this one.

He couldn't stop himself from gasping audibly. It's not everyday that you get to see what a place looks like before it becomes something famous... or infamous, depending on your perspective. The gray and white room was decked from head to toe with... machines. More specifically, Moscas. All sorts of Moscas, even some prototypes that hadn't even been discovered by the public yet. Taking a few steps forward, he spotted what were obviously illegal flame weapons. There were desks with box weapons that'd been disassembled, different odd looking gadgets, shiny buttons, glowing computer screens....

As Lorenzo entered his laboratory, gun still drawn, Alastor turned to greet him. "Wow, they weren't kidding when they said you were a genius engineer," he said, admiration in his eyes. Beaming at Lorenzo, the kid raised his cup of coffee up to his mouth, as if to take a sip, but didn't, electing instead to speak, the cup obstructing view of his lower face. "Super cool. Hey, how's the business?"

Lorenzo was effectively non-plussed. He wasn't sure how to react to this kid who knew everything about his life. Was he some sort of relation? A spy? Should he be killed? Questioned? Welcomed? Despite everything, this kid seemed somehow familiar to him, as if he... well, as if he knew him. It was for this reason that he lowered his gun and answered, curiosity temporarily overruling his gut instincts. "Shit." He said flatly and without hesitation, commenting on the state of his business before redirecting. "How's the coffee?" He nodded to the Squarebucks cup.

"Shit." Alastor said in almost the exact same monotone and with similar inflection—though if he realized it or not, Lorenzo did not know.

"So, who are you, kid? How do you know about me? My codes? My..." Lorenzo motioned to the room at large. "Things."

For a few moments, Alastor only stared, a blank expression upon his face, before suddenly reaching into his pocket, prompting the older male to aim his gun at the boy once more. After some digging, Alastor slowly removed a piece of paper from his pocket. "Calm down, grampa. I'm not a hitman..." He rolled his eyes, thinking that over. "Okay, well, I'm not after you or anyone you are yet familiar with. I'm just here to make a purchase from the legendary illegal arms trafficker."

Another possibility popped into Lorenzo's head. "Now, you wouldn't happen to be some son of mine I don't know about... right?"

Alastor laughed at that. It was a warm hearty laugh. Disarming. "Something like that." That earned a raised eyebrow. "Hey, so," Alastor started, his voice becoming an octave or two higher. "You wouldn't happen to have a—" he squinted at the note in his hand, attempting to read from it "—uhh... six-cell active voltage conditioner with a... uh, quad-fuse parallel-circuit xenon discharge arrestor?" Alastor brought the paper even closer to his face, squinting harder. "Damn this little kid writes small... uh—he also says something about it not being the ones that uses MOVs, but the experimental ones with the absurdly high cl... cl...."

"Clamping voltage?" Lorenzo finished for him, snatching the paper from Alastor's hands. Surprised that the man was able to get so close to him without his noticing, Alastor hopped back once, a deep frown on his face.

"Hey, give that back, old man!" But before Alastor could react, Lorenzo held up his index finger.

"The fact that you or whoever the hell wrote this," Lorenzo started, waving the paper in Alastor's face, "knows about my AHCV tech—something I just finished not several hours ago. That, combined with the fact that you're obviously nearsighted, a handicap that is arguably hereditary in nature..." He tapped the glasses on his face in a suggestive manner. "Don't tell me you're my son from some sort of dystopic alternate universe something."

On the surface, Alastor didn't respond, though he did seem to be flustered by the mention of "nearsightedness". He was perfect! Or so he believed. And perfection does not require modification. That included eyesight. You'd never catch me wearing one of those primitive glass holders around my face unless I was dead and stuffed. Internally, however, he was laughing. Alternate universe... the man wasn't all right, but he was close. After several seconds of complete silence, Lorenzo feigned a loss of interest, stuffing the note in his pocket and moving off to a deeper section of his lab, the shotgun still in his hands. Several minutes later, he came back holding a medium-sized metal box under his free arm, the shotgun swinging at his side.

"Alright kid, I don't know how you knew I made it, but I did, and here it is." Lorenzo nodded down to the box under his arm. "It's quite heavy," he sighed. Alastor held out his hands in an attempt to grab it, but Lorenzo aimed his shotgun point blank in his face. "Not so fast, kid." All the humor left his voice, replaced by something cold and bitter. "I'm curious as to why some punk kid wants a Mosca upgrade part like this. You know it's not a weapon, right? More like a..." He made a circling motion with his free hand, trying to think of a better descriptive phrase but failing. "... surge protector. Are you planning on catching a lightning storm or something?" Lorenzo paused and Alastor started to speak, but the man interrupted him, continuing his soliloquy. He'd paused on purpose. "Before we get to the more interesting answers, first things first: how are you paying me for this? It ain't cheap, and lunch money won't cover it."

A look of genuine surprise came over Alastor's face. "Huh?! No way you charge me!" He looked off to the side, as if he were pondering something. "What if... I told you I was family?"

"I'd tell you to get more specific." He pressed the shotgun barrel into Alastor's cheek. "This weapon is a special invention of mine, boy. Based on that new Mossberg 750AX. Each round is infused with my own Rain flames, each one embodying the Tranquility attribute. It's a new technology of mine." Lorenzo smirked. "Your internal organs will cease to function before what remains of the top half of your body hits the floor."

Alastor smirked back. "You won't do anything to me, gramps." He said it matter-of-factly.
"Shut your child mouth. If you don't have any money, then get the hell out, and be glad I'm letting you leave with your life. Very glad. I should kill you now for what you know."
"Would you believe me if I said I was your son?" He said in the highest-pitched most innocent voice he could muster.

In response, Lorenzo aimed his shotgun at Alastor's feet and pulled the trigger, though he adjusted his aim at the last second, birdshot striking the ground several centimeters from the boy's legs and feet. Although Alastor flinched slightly, his arrogant facial expression did not falter. Lorenzo brought the shotgun back up to bear. "My son is upstairs, asleep, and you're running out of wrong answers."

And in that instance, the facade shattered, the masquerade ceased, and the true creature behind the mask revealed itself. Alastor's facial expression became lax, his eyes drooping, head slightly bowed. An ominous sneer was plastered on his face. "Shit, gramps, so ruthless." His voice was much deeper than before. Much more raw and unrefined. You could sense an energy there, a type of anger—a rage, an eccentricity that gave a glimpse into the true nature of this creature claiming the shape of a sixteen year old kid.

He sounded like a demon.

"Just like the books said. You'd even kill a kid if he got in your way. I respect that. Admire, even."

In response, Lorenzo flipped his grip on the shotgun so that he was grasping the pump handle and, with a single downward motion, chambered another round, returning the barrel to its prior position.

"Okay okay," Alastor began, raising both hands, including the one with the coffee cup, above his head. "You win." However, before he finished his sentence, he'd dropped the cup from his hand. The falling object caught Lorenzo's eye for but a moment.

That was all the time Alastor needed.

His hands flashed out and he gripped the business end of the shotgun; however, Lorenzo was no fool and immediately fired his weapon... but no round exited the barrel. In fact, ice began to appear on the outer edges of the metal as the area around the two become noticeably colder, their smoky translucent exhalations visible in an otherwise warm room. The metal of the gun itself became as cold as ice within the span of a couple of seconds, prompting Lorenz to drop the gun entirely. The advanced weapon snapped in half when it hit the ground. It was completely covered in ice.

"What the f—" But before Lorenzo could finish his exclamation, Alaster threw a punch. No stranger to close-quarter combat, the man countered by snatching the boy's wrist and twisting, going for a joint break and leveraging his rain flame's Tranquility attribute; however, with a surprised shout, the man recoiled immediately after a few moments of contact with the boy's skin, falling backwards over a desk to land unceremoniously on the floor. Slightly dazed, he caught sight of his own hand—the one he'd grabbed the kid with. Lorenzo only saw blue. He couldn't feel his fingers. Could barely move them. What manner of flame attribute is this?!

"Hey! Old man!"

Lorenzo looked up. The kid was in the doorway, holding his box. The AHCV APC—lightning tamer, he'd nicknamed it. He must've accidentally dropped it when he took that tumble. "Wait you little shit!" He shouted viciously, attempting to get to his feet despite the sensation of vertigo.

Alastor only smiled. It was a warm, genuine, disarming smile—one Lorenzo now considered extremely out of character for this little monster. "Thanks for the gift, great grampa Koenig." The boy gave a little mock salute. "I'll be sure it is put to good use."

"I said wait!"

But it was too late. By the time Lorenzo Koenig, infamous black market arms dealer, one of the fathers of Box Weapon technology along with Verde and Innocenti, and frenemy to every famiglia had made it to his feet to snatch up a nearby weapon, the exuberant youth was nowhere to be found.

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Character Portrait: Alastor Lorenzo Koenig Character Portrait: samuel shainingu Character Portrait: Fredrick Dill Koenig
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OOC: Yes, I am the god of long introductory posts. Fear me!

Fredrick Dill Koenig stared at himself in the bathroom mirror as he brushed his teeth. It'd be his first day back in school this entire week—he'd been out sick with a particularly bad cold. It was for this reason that he had to skip the ring ceremony as well. He still felt pretty bad about that, especially after hearing about the surprise attack by the unknown flame types, but his dad had insisted he stay home. His famiglia got caught up in a fight for their lives and he wasn't around to help. He paused his fervent brushing to sigh. I probably wouldn't have been of much help anyway. Plus, he didn't even have a Vongola ring yet.

"Fred!" Came a voice from Fredrick's left, a small high-pitched soprano.

For his part, Fredrick pretty much jumped out of his skin, dropping his toothbrush into the sink and nearly choking on the frothy toothpaste in his mouth. After a few coughs and some water, Fredrick turned to face the speaker on his left. He knew who it was before he even turned his head. "Serlina! You know I hate it when you sneak up on me like that. I almost died!" He griped, pointing at the sink. Serlina, one of Fredrick's box weapons, was a petite blue pixie—like a Tinkerbell, except with a stunning personality, and dominion over Rain flames. Oh, and if you called her "tinkerbell," she'd probably hurt you.

Why and how was she outside of her box without being explicitly summoned? Again, she has a personality of her own, and she can leave her box at will. Conveniently for her, said box was implanted in Fredrick's left arm. Such an implant was the first of its kind in recorded history, though his father told him that they were planning on expanding the technology in the future. "One day, we'll be able to implant flame rings themselves into their users," his father had told him some time ago. "Imagine the possibilities!" But Fredrick doubted the technology would ever get that far. The rings themselves, implanted inside of people? That's just creepy. How would they be handed down and stuff?

"You know," he continued, "sometimes I think—"
"Fred," she interrupted, her translucent wings buzzing as she zipped around impatiently. She only did this when she had something pressing on her mind.
"What happened?" He asked, worry entering his voice.
"I heard one of the motion detectors go off! Are you deaf? Something is going on downstairs, and your father is going to check it out!" There was definitely an urgency to her tone, but not without an underlying implication: she wanted him to go downstairs with his father.

Fredrick's eyes grew wide. "No way," he said flatly. "It's probably car thieves again. Dad can handle it. I'll just stay up here out of the way..."

"Oh, Fred. You've got to help!"
"I really don't think—"
"What if he needs you?!"
"But I don't—"
"You're gonna be a Vongola guardian, Fred. You can't be afraid of these little things anymore."

Fredrick shook his head. "But Serlina, I'll just get in the way. It'd be much safer for us all up here." He flashed her a sheepish grin, but she wasn't buying it. She just glared at him, her wings flickering angrily behind her. Fredrick couldn't take it and eventually gave in.

"Oh... fine," he finally agreed. "But when I get beaten up and murdered, it'll be all your fault," he mocked, wiping his mouth on a nearby towel and grasping at the door handle. He took a deep breath, trying to summon the courage he needed to proceed. Serlina was right. As a Vongola guardian, he'd be facing much worse threats than petty car thieves. He'd be facing hitmen, mobsters... maybe even those weird guys that attacked the ring ceremony. He had to be ready to pacify them.

Maybe this counts as some sort of roundabout training? He could brag about it to Samuel.

Feeling sufficiently enthused, he opened the bathroom door ever so slightly, trying to sneak a peek out into the hall. Serlina was having none of that, however, and rammed her little pixie shoulder into Fredrick's back with as much force as she could muster, causing him to stumble through the door. He almost tripped over his own feet.

"Hey!" He hissed, looking back over his shoulder at his pixie box weapon; however, Serlina was not looking at him, she was pointing. Following her gaze, Fredrick's eyes landed on the secondary door. They called it the "sally port". It was the secret exit his father often used to surreptitiously enter the auto shop from behind. If there was a thief or thieves down there, he'd be able to sneak up on them without much effort.

"See, he's handling everything," he whispered, keeping his voice low, as if he were in danger of being overheard. "Let's just go back."
"No! Downstairs!" She insisted, tugging on his sleeve, trying to pull him towards the front door. "Use the main door."
"Okay okay, I'm going." He sighed, pressing twice on a small card-sized area of the wall next to the door. A backlit keypad revealed itself. After tying a string of digits, a light above the input device blinked green and the door in front of him opened, revealing a tenebrous scarcely lit stairwell that lead straight down to the auto parts shop. Fredrick stared at them, gulping audibly, paralyzed by fear.

"March." Selina commanded.
"But—!"
Her voice grew several shades softer. "Go check it out. You can do it."

With another gulp, Fredrick slowly tiptoed his way down the stairs until he reached the door that directly sequestered the staircase and the shop floor. From the outside, the door would appear as a barely noticeable dent in the wall. It was even painted the same color as its surroundings, further masking its presence. A thief wouldn't even notice its existence.

Or so he told himself.

Carefully, he pulled on the door handle, gently pushing the featureless hunt of metal forward. He was trying to be as quiet as possible, but the door squeaked loudly in protest of every inch. Fredrick winced, wishing now that he'd oiled the thing like his father had asked. I gave myself away! I gave myself away! But as he let the door swing the rest of the way open, he was presented with not a gaggle of robbers aiming their weapons at him, but the dark empty expanse of the auto shop floor room. The only other sound he could hear was the buzzing of Serlina's wings.

"See," he said, confidence suddenly underpinning his tone, "nothing here." He turned again to look at her. "Can we go back up now?"
She shook her head, pointing again.

When he saw what she was pointing to this time, he instantly felt nauseous. "Um... you want me to go into dad's lab? Are you crazy?" He'd never been allowed in there. Ever. The fact that the door was open wasn't a good sign though. He'd never once seen it just standing open in real life. What if the robbers are in there? What if they forced dad to open the door? Threatening him at gunpoint. Fredrick clenched his fists. Maybe Serlina was right. Maybe he did need help!

Serlina recognized the newfound determination in Fredrick's eyes and smiled. "Atta boy!" She whispered enthusiastically. "We can do it!"

He was able to round the corner and take a few steps down the stairs towards his father's lab before he heard something that made him freeze instantly, a chill running up his spine. The sound was unmistakable. He'd heard it a thousand times before.

It was his father's shotgun. A round had just been chambered, the echo travelling up the staircase to his ears.

Frozen in place, Fredrick strained his ears, trying to get an idea of what was going on down there. The very last thing he wanted to hear was a gunshot. He pondered rushing in, but doubted his father would appreciate his presence down there. The place was strictly off limits for him. In fact, this was probably the closest he'd ever gotten to the lab in his life.

Muffled voices interrupted his train of thought.

"You win," came an unfamiliar voice. Fredrick blinked twice, confused, before his worst fears were confirmed. A shotgun blast rang out, followed the sounds of a struggle. Someone fell over, probably riddled with bullet holes. Dad! Though before he could speed down the stairs, someone else was already there, standing at the landing. It was some stranger, his back to Fredrick. Once again he froze, but this time for only a moment. Slowly, he started creeping backwards up the staircase, hoping not to catch the guy's attention.

"Thanks for the gift, great grampa Koenig." He heard the stranger say. "I'll be sure it is put to good use."

Fredrick was only a few steps away from the doorway, but it was too late. As the stranger turned and looked upwards, they locked eyes. Even though the stairwell wasn't well lit, Fredrick could still make out some features of the guy's face. For a fraction of a second, the stranger wore a confused expression, but that confusion melted away, replaced by something that was all too familiar. It was the "target locked" look. He used to get it from bullies all the time.

Panicking, Fredrick began backpedalling up the remaining stairs, nearly falling over himself. At the same time, the stranger had begun ascending the stairs at an extremely rapid pace, taking two and three at a time. Even worse, some sort of knife materialized in the stranger's hand, its blade edge surrounded by a dusty light-blue aura. Eerily, it reminded him of the Rain flame, except...

"Woah woah woah woah!" He stuttered, crossing his hands over his chest and then separating them multiple times, still backpedaling. This guy was obviously the intruder. He definitely didn't want to fight him.

"RUN!" Serlina commanded, gathering rain flames into her hands in preparation for a defense, but it was too late. Though Fredrick managed to make it up past the top of the stairs and was now out on the shadowy floor of the auto shop, the intruder had already closed the distance. He was within arm's reach now.

"Crap!"

Without warning, the intruder made a vertical swipe at him with his blade. Fredrick may have been scared, but he was far from helpless. The moment he saw the blade coming at him, it was like something else took over. The sounds around him seemed to dampen as if he were wearing earmuffs, his vision tunneling, focusing on the weapon in the intruder's hand. His thoughts dispersed as he took on a sense of complete mental clarity and acuity.

He dodged the swipe easily, angling his upper body sharply to the left, twisting at the waist so that his shoulder and arm were out of harm's way. He felt a cooling sensation as the weapon passed by the side of his face and torso.

The intruder was not impressed. Without pause, he pressed forward, this time making a wide, lateral swipe. Fredrick moved just as quickly, bowing forward at the waist and avoiding the attack yet again. He could hear the woosh of the blade parting the air just as much as he could feel the biting chill of the weapon as it passed over the back of his head. It was surprisingly cold, as if he'd just been blasted by snow. Swinging his upper body backwards, he used his momentum to dodge yet another strike, this one diagonal across the chest, but the intruder did something unexpected. He followed up with an attack from a different blade in his other hand, this one longer and with a wider edge, like a machete. Fredrick hopped back with as much force as he could, but the intruder moved forward with him, attempting to keep the distance between them, making a lateral swipe at Fredrick's abdomen.

He could feel a burning sensation, like frostbite, around his bellybutton. Concentration broken, he tripped over his own feet and fell backwards onto some equipment, looking down at his stomach. The shirt was ripped and ice had formed around the frayed edges, but his skin had not been broken. He'd successfully dodged the surprise attack.

Their entire exchange took place over the course of maybe two or so seconds.

Fredrick looked up at the intruder. That confused nonplussed expression had returned, as if Fredrick outmaneuvering him was completely and utterly unexpected. The intruder squinted then, as if he couldn't see where Fredrick was. That's when he realized that it was still reasonably dark. The sun had yet to fully rise. The auto parts shop was shrouded in deep shadow. Quickly, Fredrick used his hands to scurry backwards, hoping to further mask his presence within the darkness, but the intruder had other ideas. As if on reflex, he quickly launched the smaller of his blades at where he suspected Fredrick to be. It was a perfect throw, and there was no way Fredrick could dodge it, not while he was on his butt.

Fredrick looked to the side, screwing his eyes shut in the hopes that that would offer him some sort of protection. After several seconds of not feeling like he'd been run through with a dagger, he slowly opened his eyes.

The weapon was floating in the air not one inch from his nose. Serlina had thrown up a wall of Rain flames to block the attack, and the held the dagger suspended within them. After a few moments she dropped the barrier, the dagger falling to his lap. Strangely, it was missing its blade edge. It was just a handle. Fredrick picked it up, eyeing it with great curiosity. What is this thing? Where'd the edge go? His head snapped up then, suddenly remembering that there was an enemy in the vicinity.

He looked left. He looked right. He saw nothing but darkness.

"Serlina," he muttered, but she already knew the question.
"He's gone. Left out the back door."

With a sigh, Fredrick got to his feet. "Did you know who that was?"
"Too dark to fully make out his face. You?"
"Same. But his weapons..."

Fredrick touched the spot on his shirt where the luminous machete had almost eviscerated him. It was extremely cold.

"I felt it," Serlina blurted out.
"What?"
"I felt it, when I blocked his dagger. His flame. It was... weird."
"Weird? Like how?" He felt like he was asking a question whose answer he already knew.
"Yeah, like Jayon's dad's old Zero Point Breakthrough, but... different somehow. Even with the Tranquility attribute of the Rain, it felt like it was damaging my barrier."

Fredrick frowned, trying to wrap his head around what that meant, when he heard a door slam shut. Looking up, he saw his father with some sort of assault weapon in his hands. The man did a double take when he spotted his son on the ground, a horrified look overwhelming his facial features. He sped over to kneel at Fredrick's side, dropping his weapon and placing his hand where the boy's shirt had been cut. He was checking for blood. His expression softened when he found none.

"Fredrick, are you okay?" He asked calmly, voice even and tempered. He was obviously still irate, but he tried not to let it show.
"Yeah," Fredrick said, smiling. So his father had not been shot afterall. "You?"
"Yeah, I'm good. Just a bit of trouble with some street punk, is all. Why were you down here? Aren't you supposed to be getting ready for school?"

Fredrick broke eye contact, looking away and scratching at his cheek with his index finger. "Um... well, I thought you might be in trouble or something and could use some backup and stuff and the alarm was going off and the door was open to your lab plus I'm the Vongola guardian and Serlina said I—"

His father sighed, the beginnings of a grin pulling at his lips. "I see." He stood, hoisting Fredrick up with him. Serlina had returned to her box. "You should probably get ready." The man nodded to the door. "I'll call this in."

"Wait. Who was that guy? Did you know him?!"
His father shook his head. "Never seen him before, but he has some weird power. A flame type I've never encountered."
Fredrick narrowed his eyes, remembering the faintly-glowing blade the intruder had thrown at him. He still had the handle. "He tried to attack me, ya know. He accidentally left one of his weapons, too."

His father looked shocked. "Really? A weapon? Do you have it?"
Fredrick nodded, producing the handle and presenting it to his father, whom took it up in his hands, examining it at odd angles. "Intersting. I'll study this, thanks. You sure you're okay?"
Glad that he was of at least some assistance, Fredrick beamed. "Yep! I guess I'll go get ready. Don't wanna be late." With a nod, he turned towards the door that lead back up to their home.

"Oh, and Fred."
Fredrick looked back over his shoulder. "Yah?"
"Things might change later, but for now," he looked his son in the eye, "under no circumstances should you enter my lab. Okay?"
"O-kay," he said sheepishly.

**


As he walked through the halls to his classroom, thoughts of the attacker and his unknown flame kept coming back to him. He felt like there was a connection between the intruder and the attack on the ring ceremony, but his friends never said anything about an enemy with a freezing flame. Was it just random coincidence? What exactly did the guy steal, anyway? He forgot to ask. And handles with no blades? What was that all about?

With a sigh, he entered the classroom. He'd arrived early like usual, in between the previous occupants of the class leaving and the next class entering, so the room was pretty much empty, save a few stragglers. Taking his seat off in the back, he put his head down, trying to figure out what exactly transpired this morning. What was in his father's lab that someone would want to steal? Again, he forgot to ask, so he could only imagine. Dang.

As his classmates began to filter in, he heard Samuels voice. He came into the room talking with someone else and didn't seem to notice him. It was understandable, as Fredrick was a pretty unnoticeable guy. Class started when the teacher walked in, and everyone took their seats. With a sigh, Fredrick put his chin in his hands, resting his elbows on his desk. Several minutes into the class, Samuel raised his hand. "Miss! I don't understand the question!" Fredrick grinned, expecting that. When it happened again, Fredrick raised his hand, the smile still fresh upon his face.

"Yes, Fredrick?"
"A-squared plus B-squared is equal to C-squared."
"Correct."

Samuel, who was sitting more towards the front of the class, looked over his shoulder at Fredrick, having recognized his voice. Fredrick smiled in response, giving a curt wave.

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Character Portrait: Alastor Lorenzo Koenig
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Alastor was annoyed, to say the least. After dropping off "the Package" back at their temporary little hangout, he headed off to this supposed "school" they were going to be attending, hopefully to finish off these bratty Vongolas. While walking to where he was told the school would be, all he could think about was that guy that he encountered while escaping from his ancestor, Koenig. Who the heck was that, anyway? Some annoying neighbor, perhaps. Alastor didn't really get a good look at his face.

The word "nearsighted" came to his mind and was banished just as quickly. It wasn't because my eyes were broken. It's because it was too dark. Duh. He chided himself. "Blehk. To let some random bitch get away like that... I must be getting soft," he muttered to himself. He'd already kicked himself for, in the heat of the moment, throwing one of his daggers at that enemy. It was a foolish mistake. Even if he did kill that guy, Koenig now had something of his. He could easily reverse engineer it, examine it, maybe even find some of his DNA on it.

Then again, the elder Koenig wouldn't be able to identify his descendant through any database systems of this time, public or private. All of his run-ins with the law occurred far in the future. Still, Koenig could probably verify that they were related at the least. Now wouldn't that be funny. Alastor grinned, imagining the look on the old man's face. Perfection.

As he approached what he assumed to be the school building after receiving some much needed directions from a bus driver a few blocks back, Alastor's mind wandered.

"You know, even if I'm not proud of what you've become, I'll always love you, right, Al?" Came a voice from behind him.
Alastor didn't respond and kept walking.
"It's why I'm going to help you figure this one out, if you'll let me."
Alastor groaned. Dammit. Not this shit again. Not now. Why now?!
"Just keep thinking about it, Al. Your opponent was of similar height and build to you. He was in the house of your great grandfather, my grandfather, Lorenzo Koenig. What does that mean to you?"

Alastor stopped walking, turning around to confront the person talking to him. She was slightly taller than he was, garbed in a woman's business suit and skirt, complete with a tie that was fashionably loosened at the neck. Draped over her shoulders was a massive military-issue overcoat several sizes too large for her. It was adorned with dozens upon dozens of badges, medals, and stars, like that of an army general or admiral. The fabric was long enough to reach past the backs of her knees, though it didn't touch the ground. The wind was blowing slightly, but if the laws of physics phased her, it didn't seem to show.

"Listen, I don't have time for this. I don't want to hear anything you have to say, got it?"
"But Al—"
Alastor put his hands over his ears, looking away. "NOTHING! Shut... UP! I'm not listening, liar! Liar! La la la la!"

Of course, that would have no muffling effect on this woman's voice, but it was more out of habit than reason. After a moment, Alastor looked back at where the woman was standing, but she was gone, as if she had never been. Letting out a content sigh, Alastor relaxed, resuming his measured saunter. Across the street he spotted a man staring out of his window, giving him an odd look.

As if Alastor talking to himself on the street was something to gawk at. As if he were crazy.

Crazy. Unfortunately for the man, the word was another one of Alastor's triggers, like "nearsighted".

"HEY, YOU," he yelled out, striking a stance and pointing at the man. "Yeah, you! You better learn to mind your own god damned business fucker before I mind a bullet through your fucking head, catch me?!" He menaced, baring his teeth. Eyes fraught with fear, the man reeled as if he had been physically assaulted, closing and locking his window before moving deeper into his house. He didn't seem to want any of that trouble.

Smart man.

Alastor wasn't crazy. Or... at least, didn't think he was. So his dead mother came to him from time to time to talk, so what? He tracked down his deadbeat father back in the future and killed him. Again, so what? That doesn't make a guy crazy, now does it? The answer is no.

As Alastor approached the gates of the school, fury still rife within him, he spotted a few stragglers milling about, trying to play it cool outside of school dressed as thugs. For some reason, they had their belts loosened and were displaying their underwear for others to see. Alastor raised an eyebrow, confused. Was this some sort of primitive mating ritual? How disgusting.

He balled his fists as one of these primates—the blond one—dared address him. "Hey, kid!" It said. "I've never seen you around here before. This is our school. Do you even go here?"

Alastor stopped and stared at him, which seemed to phase the youth, since he took a hesitant step backwards towards the relative safety of what Alastor presumed were his two friends. Alastor recognized the guy's personality instantly: he was a dominator. An aggressor. Someone who considered himself strong. Who thought he ruled things around here.

And the guy confirmed it with his next words. "Why are you staring at me, loser? Keep moving before you get hurt." Behind him, his friends snickered. The open threat sat there between them, riding atop an air of silence so still, so deep, that it was nearly tangible.

Alastor could feel the rage, like a flame, coming up from his belly and infesting the rest of his body. He slowly turned his back to his new opponents, digging in his pocket. After a moment he removed a silver container the size of a matchbook. Upon opening it, there were what seemed to be several little square sheets of thin translucent white paper stacked on top of each other. Slipping one off the top, he replacing the container back from whence it came. He then tilted his head, looking up at the clouds above, and slapped the small square against his neck. Instead of falling off like a normal piece of paper, it stayed in place, as if stuck to his skin.

Slowly, Alastor turned, head still tilted upward, small spasms causing him to twitch uncontrollably, eyes blinking rapidly. A few seconds later, the piece of paper stuck to his neck vanished, completely absorbed. After a sharp intake of breath, Alastor returned to normal, locking eyes with the student in front of him.

The pads were a type of highly addictive future drug, popular on the streets. Went by the name "Tod," which stood for "THC Overdose". Alastor never did figure out what that meant, but it sure as heck worked wonders when it came to calming him down, even imparting a sense of euphoria upon him. Mainly, it worked to banish from his mind any conversational "hallucinations" he might otherwise encounter. It was the main reason he kept taking it. That and... well, the longer he went without it, the more violent and angry he tended to become. Yeah, the stuff's addictive.

The students seemed equal parts appalled, curious, and disturbed at what they'd just witnessed.

"Listen," Alastor started, tone light and friendly, a polite smile upon his face. "If you primitives ever talk to me again I'll kill you, m'kay?" It wasn't a threat. It was a fact. They just stared. "Glad you understand. See ya around!" And with that he walked off towards the school's entrance, almost skipping with glee. What a glorious day! He thought to himself, grinning, drunk on his own happiness. It better be time to kill some Vongolas.

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Character Portrait: Kurai Rizzo Character Portrait: Alastor Lorenzo Koenig
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Round eyes stared at the white ceiling passively, but a raging aura surrounded her person. She couldn't get over the disappointment of this time- Where was the power, the strength, That these Vongolas held. Why did her father send her here? To meet a waste of time?! She sat up and resisted a growl. 'There must be something, a reason, an answer.' Suddenly her eyes seemed to melt. "Somewhere..." The aura dropped gradually, and the air was now then breathable.

Calm and quiet she became, before she slipped out of bed like a lifeless doll. "School.." Kurai whispered, checking the time noticing that she was rather late. 'The others should have set off already.' Ohm, She was certain one did, probably raced out the door- he seemed to have a more then enemie status for the leader, Jayson. This should anger her, yes, but if that member stays and fights- why waste her emotions?

It did mar her happiness though.. Maybe a little fun can power her up, she thought while braiding the front of her hair. As she finished, Kurai adjusted her uniform and gave a small smile in the mirror. "Good bye~"

With that, she made her way out the door of their temporary home and seemed to zip away in a blur of white. Wouldnt want to be late. She caught a familar sight of black hair and a tasteful jacket. Alastor?

She slowed down, and felt the eyes of surrounding students surround her. "Where did she come from?" A few whisper, but she couldnt care less. All that matters is that a rizzo was here with her.. with an obvious killing intent. "Alastor, save it for later." She stated with a smile. "We don't need too much attention on us, even if the vongolas need to die~" Oh she craved for it, but Kurai knew how to resist. So Alastor needed to wait too. They would destroy the whole school if they were to do it. 'Not like thats a bad thing~' Kurai thought marrily, while she walked off to who knows where. Class she guessed.

[Its short, I know. I just need a post! Ill get more into the plan in the next one]

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kurai Rizzo Character Portrait: Jayson Vongola Character Portrait: Alastor Lorenzo Koenig Character Portrait: Josei Lambe Character Portrait: Shiro Suzuki
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Shiro had watch everything play out in the classroom once 11th stormed out of the room with Josei following behind her. he though it best to leave her be, as much as he would have wanted to help 11th he wasn't the best person to deal with people while they are emotional, he was sure that Josei could handle it. Shiro turned a walk the other way, he was now focused on the task at hand if the boy was really a Rizzo then Shiro was sure that more would be around. after walking for a while checking each class room he made his way out side of the school, after walking around outside for a bit Shiro begin to feel a bit sleepy maybe there was only one here. Shiro thought it best to go back to finish his nap on the roof, but once Shiro begin to turn around and walk back into the build he hear some sort of commotion around where the troublemaker hung out. there old hang out was the room until Shiro came and kicked them out, he figured they where picking on some kid. Shiro was already in some what of a bad mood from all the frustration of the last week or so, so kicking the hoods teeth down their throat should be just the stress reliever he needed he would calmly walk around the corner only for his heart to drop, he seen some guy dressed in a jacket talking to the one who called her self Rizzo he was sure it was her. his thoughts race should i tell the other, should i see why they where here, what should i do? but before he could make up his mind the blond hood would begin to rear back his arm as if he was going to hit the boy. "damn it!" Shiro would say under his breath, he would race over there before the idiots got them self killed lucky Shiro grabbed hold of his wrist with the hoods fist only a few inches from the boys face. Shiro would jerk the hoods arm back "don't you have anything better to do then pick fights?" the hood would take a few steps backwards and look at Shiro "WHY YOU!!!!" he lurched forward before his friends would grab hold of him, "come one man dont you remember what happened last time!" they called out. the blond hood would shrug them off "fine, we're outta here!" he would mumble. little does he know Shiro just saved his life. as Shiro would watch them walk away he would slowly turn around, every muscle in his body was tense he knew from the others recounts of what happened at the ceremony these guys where no joke. to top things off he was in the absolute worst position on school grounds to be they where on the side of the school so there where no windows and there was a huge tree so no one could see them from the roof so if they attacked him the was done for. Shiro couldn't show them he was afraid, "hello, i would introduce myself but I have a feeling you already know who I am. so! I will cut to the chase Rizzo was it, what do you want with us" Shiro said all of this in a calm steady tone, but his body was nervously shaking.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kurai Rizzo Character Portrait: Alastor Lorenzo Koenig Character Portrait: Shiro Suzuki
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"Alastor, save it for later." Even without the mentioning of his name, Alastor recognized the voice. Looking to his side, he saw Kurai Rizzo smiling at him. He smiled back—one of his rare authentic smiles. "We don't need too much attention on us, even if the Vongolas need to die~" She continued. Alastor closed his eyes, nodding twice. Even if he was severely disappointed by this newly introduced constraint, he was way too relaxed to do anything but agree. Plus, it made sense. Didn't want to ruin the future by killing a bunch of school kids.

Unless it was supposed to happen...

"WHY YOU!!!!" Both Alastor and Kurai turned their heads at the same time, expressions deathly serious. It was the primitive boy again. Honestly, Alastor had forgotten the boy even existed, and had to force himself to remember why the blond kid was even within the general vicinity. Alastor had already loosed a blade handle from the inside of his sleeve, the cool dark metal resting heavily against his palm, but he didn't withdraw the weapon or activate it with Comet flames. Kurai would have to give the order. Until then, he'd limit the scope of his actions to the reactionary.

However, before the primitive could be made to meet his maker, someone Alastor didn't recognize intervened. Red hair, kinda tallish, sporting a long-sleeve white hoodie. Alastor's eyes were drawn to the guy's footwear. Combat boots. Black. The stranger grabbed the primitive boy by the arm and sent him and his cronies on his way.

Alastor grinned politely, the skin around his eyes wrinkling slightly. Interesting.

That's when the stranger spoke. "Hello, I would introduce myself but I have a feeling you already know who I am." Alastor raised an eyebrow, slightly confused. "So! I will cut to the chase. Rizzo, was it? What do you want with us?"

Half way through listening to the guy talk, everything clicked and Alastor fully understood the situation. This guy is one of those Vongolas! His polite grin morphed into a wicked smirk so deep that it contorted his entire face. Gripping the blade handle that lay flat against his palm, he looked to the side at Kurai, both eyebrows raised, like an attack dog begging to be let off his leash.

As if to say: can I kill this one?

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Shaji Ai Character Portrait: Kurai Rizzo Character Portrait: Jayson Vongola Character Portrait: Alastor Lorenzo Koenig Character Portrait: samuel shainingu Character Portrait: Fredrick Dill Koenig
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Donovan watched as the Vongola leader walked out of the room, his eyes following the rhythmic swaying of her butt out the door. With her gone and the lesson begun, Donovan leaned back in his chair and fell asleep.

He woke up as a ruler hit his desk, the impact sending his chair flying backwards onto the ground as he jumped in confusion. “Mr. Shmautz. I brought you into this class because you said you wanted to learn and help. You can’t really do that if your sleeping, can you?” Donovan smiled and pointed at the board. “The answers to every question on that board are 53, 72.9 and Noah’s Ark, can I go back to sleep now?” With a sigh, the teacher conceded the duel to his student.

However, now that Donovan was awake, he wasn’t going to sleep now, there was an interesting person beside him that needed his attention. He turned to Shaji, keeping his cheerful demeanor. “Is your boss always like that? Pardon my rude introduction yesterday, I’m Donovan Theodore Shmautz, son of Ashlyn Shmautz and Asteroid Guardian for the Rizzo family. What’s your name?”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

He could barely hold it, the pressure was too much. “Just ask her!” a feminine voice echoed through his head. “No way,” he responded, “I don’t want to disturb the class. Everyone’s getting so much work done and besides, I can’t just leave Sam, he won’t understand the questions, I’ll just hold it.” Serlina sighed, her small blue wings fluttering in the air beside him, leaving little drops of water with every flap. “You can’t hold it until the end of class, you’re squirming like a slug being touched, now ask the teacher before you piss yourself!”

At first he began to shake his head but a sudden pressure in his loins said otherwise, pushing his hand up to be seen. After waving around frantically for a minute, the teacher finally caught sight. “Mr. Koenig, what can I do for you?” she asked politely. “Uh, can I go to the bathroom please?” She cocked her ear towards him. “I said, can I go to the bathroom please.” She shook her head. “I can’t hear you Mr. Koenig, speak up”
With a groan of impatience, Serlina flew to the teacher and whispered his request in her ear. A look of realization spread across her face, giving him a thumbs-up. Fredrick nodded in thanks and took off down the hallway, his hands awkwardly placed between his legs.

Before he reached the bathroom however, he was stopped by a commotion in the hallways. Two kids Fredrick hadn’t seen before were harassing the school bullies. One of them was a cute girl with long pink hair. She seemed really nice, maybe the bullies were picking on her and the other guy stepped in to save her. Looking at the other guy though, a sense of unusual dread filled the Rain Guardian, like he’d met this person before and knew he was dangerous. He shook it off, there was no way they had met before, he’d remember.
Fredrick tried to inch his way around them to the bathrooms beside them, the slow progress not helping his need to pee, when Shiro came to intervene. "Hello, I would introduce myself but I have a feeling you already know who I am. So! I will cut to the chase. Rizzo, was it? What do you want with us?”


At the mention of the Rizzo, Fred’s blood ran cold with fear. ‘The Rizzo? Those are the people that attacked the others yesterday….Those guys are Rizzo?!” Terror erupted inside him as he inched faster along the wall, hoping not be seen. They wouldn’t fight here in the school, would they? Serlina slapped him, projecting her voice in his mind. ‘What the hell are you doing? Are you going to leave Shiro to fight them by himself?” He looked back at the Rizzo and gasped, the boys posture, facial expressions, everything was geared towards pure violence, the opposite of the pacifism Fredrick followed. The boys eyes were filled with killer intent, sending shivers down Fredrick’s spine.

Mustering up all his courage, he stepped away from the wall towards them. “I-if you-if you w- i-i-if you want to-“ Serlina pulled in front of him, her body shining a brilliant blue. “If you want to take on the Vongola you’ve gotta take us on aswell. Going up against him 2v1? I thought the Rizzo were supposed to be strong? Guess we were wrong, right Fredrick?”

His face a mask of pure horror, he simply stared at his friend, so scared that he didn’t even notice he didn’t need to pee anymore.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trevor Rizzo Character Portrait: Kurai Rizzo Character Portrait: Alastor Lorenzo Koenig Character Portrait: Fredrick Dill Koenig Character Portrait: Shiro Suzuki
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Trevor sat on a bench outside of the classroom he was pretty sure he was supposed to be in, slowly kicking his feet back and forth. He didn't really feel like walking in, even though he wouldn't be considered all that late. The teacher would probably make him introduce himself, just like the kids in the movies on the Terranet. The Moon Guardian wasn't really good with meeting new people, and besides, the only official schooling he'd ever received was during his time at The Facility, and that was by scientists. It was less of a "classroom" setting and more of a "rat in a maze" type deal. At least that's how Trevor saw it.

If you would have asked him ten minutes ago if he was nervous, he'd have been way too nervous to answer. Ever since he killed that one guy with the C-Frame, he'd been... different. Felt different. Felt... depressed? Was that the word for this? He wasn't sure what type of disease this "depression" was, or if he could even catch it at all, but from what he read, he was showing symptoms. Crazy dreams, weird sensations in his gut and chest, a deep and all-encompassing malaise, a sense of general emptiness... but of course it never showed on his face. He even started leaving the little black cube that was the C-Frame Box Weapon back at home. He couldn't even fathom communication with it. Not anymore. Not after what he'd done.

He felt like he betrayed it—betray the C-Frame—and, in the process, destroyed a piece of his soul. He wasn't sure how to proceed.

In his hands he played with the bag of rock candy he'd received from the guy he killed, turning it over again and again in his hands, staring at it.

But I didn't kill him. Something like a smile crept onto his face, though you'd have to know him very well to notice a change at all. He's alive! I didn't kill him! He'd been repeating this over and over for a while now, sitting on this bench as the last of the stragglers trickled into their classrooms. Some glanced in his direction every now and then, but he ignored them.

It was as if some great weight had been lifted. The crippling burden of guilt, the feelings of emptiness, of self-doubt and anxiety, of anger and sadness, all of it was slowly disintegrating right before his very eyes until, finally, they were but a distant confusing memory.

Taking a deep breath, the boy basked in the glory of freedom from sin. It was as if a haze had cleared and he remembered his true purpose. He was Rizzo, and he was here to fight the aliens, stop the evil Vongola, and save the future! He looked to his wrist, noting the absence of a wrist band or the accompanying black cube, and instantly kicked himself. "What was I thinking?" He sighed, wishing more than anything that he could talk to the C-Frame.

As he pondered Donovan's reaction to him cutting class and walking back home alone—Trevor was sure he'd go apoplectic—a shadowy figure loomed over him. So lost was he within his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed someone walking towards him. Looking up, he was only able to catch the back of the guy's head as he walked by. He instantly recognized him.

"A-Alastor?" He muttered, genuinely confused. Why would he of all people be walking through this part of the school? The only things on this side were the 5-13 year olds... and the main bathrooms. If Alastor noticed Trevor speak, he'd ignored him, because the guy kept moving at a rather expeditious pace, hands placed awkwardly between his legs. Trevor was even more confused.

Tracking him with his eyes, Trevor's gaze followed Alastor down the long hall to around the end where the bathrooms were, but then he stopped, as if conflicted. That's when Trevor heard something that truly piqued his interests. Voices from down the hall, next to where the guy he believed to be Alastor was standing. Four distinct voices to be exact, but two in particular that he recognized.

He stood up from the bench, slipping the packet of rock candy into his pocket, pondering his next action.

One voice was definitely Alastor's. The drugged-up mean-sounding one. The other was elegant, lofty, yet firm and commanding. That was definitely Kurai's. Alastor's tone was especially contentious today. It was weird though, because Alastor's voice wasn't actually coming from Alastor's mouth. In fact, there was some blue thing zipping around Alastor's head, like a small bird or a butterfly. Wait.. were there two Alastors? Trevor took a step towards them, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands.

Maybe he was just dazed. It'd been a few weeks since he'd last been inside of the C-Frame—his longest record yet. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. Besides, Alastor sounded like he was in one of his moods. Nodding to himself, Trevor returned to the bench. He decided he'd do best to stay away from them. No one in this time period could possibly pose a challenge to Space and Comet, especially if they were working together. Plus he didn't have his C-Frame. And then there was the redhead and the... doppelganger? He never did get a good look at the guy's face, and was just going by the hair. Maybe he wasn't Alastor afterall...

The four were too far away for Trevor to fully make out any aesthetic details or catch but faint echoes of their conversation, and he wasn't about to approach them.

That's when he felt someone poke him in his side. It was a sharp prod, meant to invoke reaction, but Trevor wasn't ticklish. Instead of jumping up in surprise or anger, he simply turned his head, leveling a cold menacing glare over his shoulder upon this offender. His gaze was met with a cheesy smile and a curt wave.

There were two little kids standing behind him, in front of the closed door of the classroom he was supposed to be in right now. From the looks of it, they were supposed to be in there too. Trevor turned to face them, expression as neutral and stoic as ever, head tilted slightly to the side, silently questioning their actions. From the looks of them, they were probably twins, a particularly rare occurrence in the future. They were a bit shorter than he was, with short stocky light brown hair and brown eyes. They currently stood side-by-side, which made for a quick and easy apposition.

"Um... hi," said the one on the left. "Are you in this class?" He pointed a thumb to the closed door of the class Trevor was supposed to be in. Instead of responding, Trevor subconsciously rubbed his side with his forefinger. That earlier poke had kinda hurt.

"Why'd you poke him, stupid?" Said the one on the right.
"Shut up, Daniel," the one on the left hissed, turning his head back towards Trevor. "Hey, are you new here?"
After a moment, Trevor nodded once, but instantly regretted it.

The one on the right—Daniel—squealed in delight, and, before Trevor knew it, the boy had his arm around his shoulder. "Hey, you'll love it here! Oh! I'm Daniel. That doofus over there Luka. We're brothers. Hang with us and you'll do just fine!" He flashed another cheesy smile. Trevor pondered how rude of a move it would be to worm his way out of this quasi-headlock and just go home, but before he could make a move, Luka shushed them.

"Shhh! Daniel, you're too loud!" He whispered, but it was too late. The door next to them opened abruptly, a large man towering over them like a titan in the doorway. "Luka! Daniel! The bell rang twenty minutes ago. Why are you out in the hall talking? Do you have a pass?" The boys shook their heads, not meeting the man's eyes. "Well," he continued, lowering his voice, "I'm glad you could join us." He pointed to somewhere in his classroom. "Please take your seats."

That's when the teacher noticed Trevor. "And you. Are you the new student?" He pulled out a notepad from his pocket, flipping a few of the pages. "Trevor... Lange?" Trevor nodded, acknowledging the fake last name. "Why were you so late, Mr. Lange?" Trevor pursed his lips, but didn't respond. Daniel and Luka snickered, flashing him grins and thumbs up. "Well, okay, doesn't matter. Just don't make it a habit like these troublemakers here." The teacher said, referring to Daniel and Luka. "Now, please," he made a welcoming gesture with his hand, "introduce yourself to the class."

With a sigh, Trevor stepped into the room, the two Alastors still on his mind.