Latveria has, historically, been a very tumultuous state. It had always been home to petty despots of one kind or another. Victor Von Doom, its most famous leader, was no different; he brought peace to the people of the nation, but strife to the world around him. When he fell, the nation kept on its normal track: being ruled by yet another cruel tyrant.

Then, on the literal eve of the rifts, something happened. A few stalwart individuals singlehandedly took down the standing Prince in an almost bloodless takeover. The man known as Cyrus, a common public figure from the time of Doom was leading them. People flocked quickly behind him, with memories of what to them was a much better time.

...and then the world fell into chaos. By the time Latveria had finished its reformation, Russia to the east had already swamped half of Europe in a surprise attack, and the other half was quickly destabilizing from the massive influx of otherworldly immigrants. Now, Latveria stands in between the Russian Federation and the new European Union, ostensibly the only neutral zone between two rival powers.

It is said that Lord Cyrus himself has not actually been seen in over a year, but his presence is still heavily felt. Taking a page from Victor Von Doom's book, Latveria is policed by an army of identical robots, taking Cyrus's appearance. These robots purport to be directed by a single command control, administrated by Cyrus himself.

There's sudden commotion in front of Red Silvers, the people working on the machine in front of him get very harried, and the machine itself begins whirring loudly and ominously.

There is a loud CHUNK, as a... chunk of land from the island superimposes itself onto Latverian soil.

...almost perpendicularly. Leaving those on it still bound by gravity to plummet some yards downward.

Worst yet, it seems the piece of the island has now intersected with part of a complex machine, presumably the device that brought them there, which is now... on fire.

*THUNK*

"Ah...tk...gr...ba..." Trevor sputters as the pain from a neat little fall courses through his little body. Not only that, it seems the pain is increasing because of some unidentifiable...wait, that's-

"FIIIIIIIIIRE!!!" he screams, turning to a foot and fleeing in a random direction without care for obstacles. He runs about a hundred feet over before he stops...and promptly faints.

...

The land Trevor runs through is mostly barren and without obstacles, nonetheless. It has the look of being scarred and marred repeatedly, and that vegetation has only just now begun to grow there.

Meanwhile, back at the... let's call it 'crash site', things are still a bit hectic. The machinery it futzing and sparking in other places now, and some of those guarding it, comprising primarily of a few soldiers and some Cybots, are now checking up on those who came through with the chunk of the island, apparently including the European officer who never actually climbed up the rope ladder to his helicopter. Some are glancing off at Trevor running away, but more pressed with concern for what's immediately going on.

For Nifar Corvus, mercenary in the employ of the Latverian government who was also guarding the device, ostensibly against what might be coming through with the Latverians being rescued, this leaves plenty to deal with.

"'Bout damn time somethin' happened. Alright, you, you, and you, help me get these people to the base." Nifar indicates two random soldiers, and the one already escorting Red Silvers. With the aid of his newly commandeered troops, he rounds up the European officer, and anyone else who's rather obviously not supposed to be there as well, and proceeds escort them to the nearby military base via jeep, picking up Trevor along the way. Can't have him waking up and wandering around sensitive equipment, now can we?

"Once we're at the base, I want those not in immediate need of medical care locked up, and those who do need it, especially the guy who was on fire a second ago, treated, then locked up. Got that?"

Dark Hawk, Lands with a thump.

And a groan as he stands up and looks around, "...Where the crap am I now?"

Time to see if Immy fell nearby or not.

Nifar cruises off, dragging along the european soldier, Trevor, and presumably Red Silvers.

Upon reaching the Capitol Building slash self-contained military base, they have the former and presumably latter brought to a brig, while bringing Trevor (who probably only sounded like he was on fire) to an infirmary.

A Cybot wanders by, and notes down Nifar, "Good work; I think I will have something else for you once my lieutenants get back."

Meanwhile, a doctor begins examining the unconscious Trevor; checking for pupil dilation, et cetera.

"Thank you, sir. If anyone needs me, I'll be in whatever serves as a break room around here." Nifar gives some approximation of a salute, before wandering off to see if he can actually find said break room. Failing that, he'll start looking for the mess or the canteen. Failing that, he'll just start wandering around aimlessly.

Trevor shows all he symptoms of someone who fainted from overexerted screaming muscles, with a bit of hangover. Some textbook signs of trauma are there, but he seems rather relaxed, all things considered.

<Hmph. The little boy should be awake>, the doctor muttered to himself in the Latverian dialect of Hungarian, before slapping Trevor on the cheek a little.

Nifar finds himself in a lounge, but there aren't very many people milling around. Latveria's standing army is fairly small, as most of the combat roles are taken up by non-human robotic combatants. Most people are either elite, assigned to special squads, or function more as a police force for the towns.

*patpat*

"Ung..." Trevor mumbles, shaking out the sleep. She reaces slowly to rub his eyes, yawning as he does so. A bit of the black under his eyes seems to be turning back to a healthy tan.

"Maaaaan...How long did I sleep?" he wonders aloud, dropping his arms. "I had...the strangest dream..."

His eyes finally open, wandering to the doctor. "Oh...Heya. Are you the wakeup call?"

"You were unconscious when they brought brought you here," the doctor notes with a heavy accent, "and you're dehydrated. Drink some of this."

He fills a paper cup with tap water and hands it to the fencer.

Trevor stares blankly at the cup.

"Tap? God," he says, rubbing his head in apparent pressure. He downs about half, then looks up longingly. "...You wouldn't happen to have a cocktail handy, would you? I need a drink like summer needs ozone, shit."

The doctor proceeded to splash the water in Trevor's face, then fill it back up.

"You're dehydrated. Water. Drink."

Trevor sputters water all over the place in wake of a rude awakening, pun totally intended in his own mind.

"Geez, asshole, what'dja do that for? Seriously, whose grandma you gotta sponge-bathe to get a dry martini around here?

"...Come to think of it, where the hell am I?" he asks, finally noticing his completely unfamiliar surroundings.

"You're in a doctor's office. What, do they not have doctors where you come from? You're dehydrated, drink some water."

"Dude, I really don't remember the last time I woke up in a doctor's office when it wasn't police station, too," Trevor mumbles. "And you talk like a...uh...not-limey. Am I still in Brighton? GOD, my head hurts. And why can't I move my toes-oop, there we go."

...

"Do you have a cellphone I can borrow?"

"You're in Latveria. They didn't tell me why you were here when they brought you in here. Your head hurts because you are dehydrated. Here's some water; drink."

He then motioned to a clunky old wall phone when Trevor asked for a cell phone; "but I'm not telling you the code to dial out until you have something to drink. Seriously, is there not 'doctor's orders' in your home country?"

"Dude, rules are made to be broken, especially rules that are good for you," Trevor replies. "But if you reeeeally reeeeally want me to, I'll drink some bloody water. Actually, wine's not a bad idea."

Trevor accepts the cup and graciously drinks from it, despite earlier comments.

"So, what's Latveria, anyway? Is that, like, some kind of fifty-first state or something? 'Cuz I never heard of it."

"Latveria is the last solvent state in Europe, if you want my opinion on it. Speaking of which, I thought there were ninety four of your "United States" now, since you took Mexico."

He pulls the phone from the wall; it's got a cord attaching it and everything. He hands it to Trevor; "dial 531, then 828, then the region code, then the number you're looking for."

"Ninety-four? I don't remember that from the tutoring."

Trevor picks up the phone and dials the appropriate codes, then the number.

...

"What do you mean out of fucking service?! Damn it, Lee! Your ass is GRASS!"

He turns back to the doctor. "Well shit, now what? Can I get directions back to Brighton? Wait, what day is it, anyway?"

"Hm? Friday. So, are you saying you have no one to care for you, at the moment? I do not even know where this 'Brighton' is"

"Brighton! You know!" Trevor says, flabbergasted. "In...uh...England, I think. That's what it said on the passport, anyway. Brighton Resort? I had an all expenses paid trip there...

"Goddamn, Friday? I thought it was supposed to be Wednesday. Or Saturday. What color shirt am I wearing?" He checks. "Green. So definitely Wednesday.

"Yeah, my agent's not picking up the damn phone. Little sneak of a rat minksucker. Hmph."

"Well then, we can't just have a boy running around aimlessly. Why don't we go find Cyrus, and see what he can do for you?"

He motioned for Trevor to follow him, before pausing, "oh, in your country, they give confectionery treats out at the end of doctor's visits, correct?"

Trevor blinked.

"Dude, if you have a fucking lollypop, I am so inviting you to my next shindig."

The doctor glowered.

"We don't do that here."

And the exited the room.

Well, this was immensely boring. Television was all... flat and not in three dimensions here, and people complained if you hit them too hard in this "basketball" game, which wasn't anything like Urban Brawl, like Nifar originally assumed it to be. So now he was wandering around semi-aimlessly, despite what he had told the Cybot.
Suddenly an idea struck him - maybe he should go check on the kid they brought in, see how he's doing. Aside from the fact that he looked nothing like him, the kid kinda reminded Nifar of his own brother. At least, in the sense that they were both about the same age.
Anyway, with something resembling an actual objective in mind, Nifar altered his course to start heading in the direction of the doctor's office/medical ward. Assuming he could actually find his way, of course.

Nifar comes across the infirmary just as the Doctor was leaving (and presumably trying to take Trevor to go see a Cybot)

"Not cool, dude!" Trevor whines, failing to notice Nifar in his strife. "You don't lead people on like that! I want my fucking lollypop!"

"Kid's got a mouth on 'im, eh, Doc?" Nifar asked with a grin, before looking Trevor over. "Huh. Not bad for a guy I could have sworn was on fire a while ago. Anyway, where are you taking him? I'll keep you guys company. After all, 's not like I've got much else to do until the boss-man gives me more orders."

After all, who knew how long it'd take the other guys to get back from the machine's site? Despite what he'd said earlier to one of the Cybots, Nifar simply didn't have the patience to wait in the lounge until someone gave him orders. Besides, it's not like they couldn't find him if they needed him.

He did, but it looks like he got KO'ed somehow...?

"Ah, you're the one who brought him here in the first place, right? Now that he's awake, I wasn't sure what to do with him, so I was bringing him to Cyrus. Perhaps I should just leave him with you, instead," he said, before pausing and sourly adding, "either way I get him off my hands."

"Ah, screw you, Doc," Trevor shoots, sticking his tongue out.

He turns to Nifar. "So...do you have a bottle lying around?"

"Not that I know of. Aren't you too young to drink anywa- wait, we're in Europe, aren't we? Ah well, c'mon. The least I can do is feed you before taking you to see the boss-man," Nifar shrugs, then turns to address the doctor. "Anyway, I'm gonna take the kid to get some food, then I'll go find Cyrus. See ya, Doc."

With that, Nifar turned and headed back down the hallway, motioning for Trevor to follow. He wasn't sure if this place even had a mass hall or cafeteria or whatever, but it couldn't hurt to look before taking the kid out somewhere in the town.

"I don't know, I'm bad with breakfast, man," Trevor says flatly. "I start gagging unless I have something in my system already. Like a damned lollypop. Don't think this over, DORKtor!"

Trevor returns to Nifar. "Pfah, nothing like a drinking age ever stopped me before. So what's your story?"

"I'm just a mercenary. Cyrus offered to pay me after I showed up here, and I've yet to get any other offers. And you? I know you came from the giant island that showed up a while back, but what about before that?"

If it seemed that Nifar wasn't telling everything, well that's for two reasons. First, he wasn't. No reason to tell some random kid his whole life story. Second, he was kind of distracted with looking for somewhere to get food.

"Me? Hah!" Trevor thumps his chest with a fist. "I'm Trevor Gates, world-famous and high-class fencer, tournament winner all through America!"

He briefly pauses to laugh smugly to himself. "I'm sure you must be quite starstruck right now. Well, I'll have no problems giving you an autograph if you really want one."

"Um... Sirs?" one of the scientists said, approaching the two (well, only one really, since Immolation is unconscious) somewhat sheepishly, "is there... anything I can do to help you? Does... does the Lieutenant need any assistance to... to make sure he's okay?"

She just kind of eyed the ground, not quite sure how to talk to the two top ranking individuals.