FRIEND, a kamen rider fanfic

Title: Friend
Fandom: Kamen Rider Dragon Knight
Genre: Drama/Slash/Adult
Characters: Pryce/Chance
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Pryce doesn't realize how his world will change once he accepts the challenge to become a Kamen Rider.
Author's Notes: The details about Ventara and its past are fuzzy, and there may yet be some things that contradict this story in proper canon later, but for all intents and purposes, this fic attempts to stay within the same world as the show. Fair warning- It's pretty long, but hopefully rewarding. Comments are awesome. Thanks for reading!

Pryce tightened his grip on the cold metal of the railing as he stood upon the rooftop, staring endlessly into the vastness of the empty city that stretched out before him. A streak of white cut across the sky and the roar of thunder could be heard from a distance as an army of restless clouds reached out across the black Ventaran sky. After all that had happened, the city was nearly emptied. Xaviax's forces had already succeeded in stealing away eighty percent of the planet's population.

Pryce's teeth grinded behind his lips. The city where he was born and raised had been turned into a ghost town overnight. Pryce felt as though he could have ripped the railing right out of the bolts that held it down with the strength brought on by his frustration. And that's when he heard it. The noise that sent a shiver down his spine. The ominous tingle that alerted him to the presence of danger. One of Xaviax's assassins had appeared just behind him.

As he stood there waiting, the first hint of rain began chattering against the leather of his jacket. A slight hiss lingered in the air as the creature reached out for him. The images of the past flashed through Pryce's mind as his hands lifted from the metal railing and curled into fists...

========

Pryce was seventeen when he first encountered him.

As the prize of the wealthiest family in the city, it was expected that Pryce would join the Rider Program. When Xaviax unleashed his hordes on the planet, their only hope was in the alien known as Eubulon, and the twelve Advent Decks he gifted to the Ventaran race. A select group of soldiers would be assembled, whose physical, mental, and spiritual identity matched the required standards.

The chances for eligibility were nearly impossible for the average man. Military officers, intelligence agents, and members of various armed forces around the world were admitted into the program, and promptly spit right back out again, rejected by the fickle power of the decks, which required a near perfect match.

When approached by Eubulon to join the Rider Program, Pryce's parents leaped at the opportunity. Pryce let out a great sigh when the idea was brought up to him at the long, stretched dinner table around which his entire family sat. It was clear to Pryce, as his mother and father both sat nearly forty feet away from him on the opposite end of the table, that they were not asking him to do this for any benevolent reasons. It was more than likely that they were hoping that this would bring more publicity to the parent company that Eubulon worked with, and his parents owned. He could practically see the shimmer of the dollar signs that twinkled in their eyes as they imagined how quickly Treadwell products would be flying off the shelves after witnessing young Pryce achieve such a noble, heroic status along with all the common folk.

The idea of it made Pryce choke on the roast duck he had just stuffed into his mouth. But as he sat there, watching his parents, and his elder brother and sister stared at him from across the long table, he began to wonder what it might be like. Living among his family had grown tiresome long ago, and the luxury of his home had not felt so luxurious ever since he grew old enough to realize how little his parents ever seemed interested in anything happening in their son's life (the Rider Program being an exception, considering how much it would benefit them).

"I'll do it."

Pryce did not react to the slight gasp he heard from his sister as he sipped his spring water. Perhaps her surprise came from the fact that Pryce had never worked a day in his life. Instead, when he wasn't forced to study much longer than any normal teenager ever would, he was locked away in his room, trying to put the "finishing touches" on his latest paintings, or training with the finest martial arts instructors that his father's money could buy. Which was quite expensive. But now he would trade in his human instructors for an alien one and his associates.
The first day of training was more of a publicity stunt than an actual lesson. A thousand flashes of camera light scattered across his face as he stepped into the vast training hall, where at least fifty young men and women were sparring.

Pryce simply walked into the room, completely steady and unnerved as the eyes in the room slowly shifted toward him, watching as a small army of photographers and news cameras followed him around like puppies begging for a biscuit. Pryce acted as though he didn't even notice them at first. By the time he was ten years old, his mother had already taught him never to look anything but flawless whenever he exited the mansion, and that the cameras were simply an opportunity to allow the world to know him for the amazing person that he was.

Internally, Pryce would never believe such notions. Through his rebellious teen years, his parents would drive him out to find someone- anyone - that did not resemble the lifestyle his parents had spoiled him with from an early age, and he was amazed at how he had been treated by those few people who did not already know his name. They made it clear, sometimes with great difficulty, that he was not nearly as special as his parents had programmed him to think he was, simply for being born into the Treadwell dynasty.

Pryce would never be able to recall much of that first day in training, other than the confused looks of the martial artists, soldiers, and operatives that worked with him, glaring and scowling at both him and the cameramen that had attached themselves to him for the entire event.

The next day, Eubulon's people had expressly forbidden any outsiders from entering the facility. A thing that Pryce found himself glad of. He made it a point to be there half an hour early, in order to avoid being recognized as the spoiled fool who brought an entire enterouge to training. This was when he first laid eyes upon him. The one person who had arrived earlier than himself.

The shimmer of the morning sun poured into the room from the glass roof above, casting a glow over the rippled skin of the young man that stood in the center of the training hall. With a deep breath, he snapped into a fighting stance, drawing his hands around him with an undeniable focus. Pryce watched silently from the far wall as the young man suddenly lifted off of the ground, his legs whirling about him in a formidable spinning kick, before gracefully dropping into a roll. Pryce did not realize that he was staring until the object of his curiosity had suddenly flipped right into his personal space.

"Do I have something on my face?"

The words came out so abruptly that Pryce had no idea how to respond. The young man was several feet away from him only an instant ago, and was now only inches away from his face, asking him... Shit, Pryce couldn't even remember the question!

"I must have something on my face," he continued, a slight smile creeping over his lips. "Because you've been staring at me for the last five minutes now."

Pryce's first words came out cracked. "Oh, uh-- No, I was just--"

"You must be new."

Pryce blinked silently. He had made such a display the day before that he was overjoyed at the thought that this person did not recognize him as "The Treadwell Boy."

"Uh, yeah," Pryce said at last, shaking the young man's hand. "Pryce."

"Chance," the young man called himself. "Chance Leery."

Pryce wanted to say something more, but the truth was that he was still quite embarassed about what had just happened. Being caught so easily by the guy he had just spent the past five minutes staring at before even realizing that he had noticed. He suddenly felt like such a creep. But the face that stood before him now wore an honest, inviting smile. Chance seemed genuinely happy to meet someone new. And if he was bothered at all about what had just happened, Pryce could not detect it in the warmth of his eyes.

"So," Chance began. "The instructor's not gonna be here for a while... Wanna spar?"

Thirty seconds later, Pryce's back was slamming into the training mat. He could already hear the playful laugh from Chance as he performed a cartwheel in victory. But before Chance could turn around, Pryce had already sprung directly from his back, up to his feet again, locking into a formidable fighting stance. Chance spun around just in time to watch Pryce's body come rushing out of the air toward him.

Chance flung himself aside, narrowly dodging Pryce's kick and thrusting an elbow down as he landed. But Chance was startled to find that his elbow was caught between Pryce's skillfull hands. Before Chance knew what was happening, Pryce had gripped his arm and hurled him over his shoulder. But not before Chance had grabbed him right back, forcing his opponent down with him.

Pryce coughed in surprise as he collided with Chance's body, smacking hard against the mat.

For a moment, Pryce did not move. A sudden rush of sensation flew through him as he realized what had just happened. His arm was still locked underneath the tense muscle of Chance's own limbs. He could feel the brush of Chance's heavy breath against his lips. The morning light glistened against the contours of his exposed flesh. And the warmth of his body was overpowering... until he glanced into the stunned, confused eyes of the person lying beneath him.

Pryce had never pulled away from someone faster in his life. He quickly sat up and nervously tried to clear his throat, but it was impossible. He found himself glancing at the door and uncertain of what to do or say. But somehow, he could feel the smirk that appeared on Chance's face only seconds after they had broken contact. Pryce had known him for all of fifteen minutes, but somehow he knew that Chance would find the awkwardness of this moment highly amusing. And Pryce wanted to crawl under the largest rock he could find and live there.

Finally, the long, breathless silence was broken by Chance's voice.

"You're pretty good," he said. "I've been training here for two weeks now, and nobody's been able to pin me like that."

"I didn't pin you," Pryce insisted. "I just... sorta fell on you. You won."

"Well, of course I won," Chance laughed. He was freaking Pryce out by how jovial he was about everything, already scooting over so that he could look Pryce right in the eye, though Pryce wouldn't look at him directly. "I'm just saying... Nobody's ever come that close before."

Something about the way Chance said that stirred Pryce. For the next several hours, the words would rattle around in his head, as he was forced through one rigorous training excercise after another. Pryce would fend off verbal attacks from the other students who cursed him for being a spoiled rich kid, while simultaneously defeating every sparring opponent that came up against him. And after every victory, he would glance across the room to find that Chance had scored an equally impressive victory against his own opponents. They had gotten into the habit of giving each other a "thumbs up" after almost every match.

From this point on, training became easier. Regardless of the continued taunting of the other students, Pryce knew that he had an ally in Chance. And as training grew more relentless, and students began to disappear from the various classes one by one, Pryce knew that Chance would not be among those rejected by Eubulon. What had started as a group of fifty potential Kamen Riders had soon been shrunk to a collection of twenty individuals. There were few weak links left in the chain strung together by their instructors. All that remained were the most lethal, and physically, mentally, and spiritually appropriate humans eligible for the honor of accepting the Advent Decks.

The honor.

Growing up in the Treadwell household, a word such as "honor" had no meaning. It was all about how much money could be made, how much publicity could be garnered, and how much one could improve their social status with the city's elite. But Pryce had something more to look forward to, beyond the petty foolishness that his family had been grooming him for all those years. He had the responsibility- the honor- of being called a Kamen Rider of Ventara. And he had Chance, his only true friend in all the world.

Six months passed like six years, as Chance and Pryce cheered each other on through their advanced training with Eubulon's instructors, honing their skills and pushing themselves harder than they ever could have if either of them did not have the other's enthusiasm to keep them going. At least that was how Pryce felt. He had always been confident in his own abilities, but even he had begun to doubt himself when he faced some of the challenges that stood between him and one of those coveted Advent Decks.

But it was Chance who was there to place a hand on his shoulder and nod with encouragement just before he entered the battlefield on his first live mission against one of Xaviax's monsters. It was that smart alec grin Chance was so fond of showing off that raced through Pryce's thoughts as he threw the first punch into the creature that rushed at him in the middle of the night, while his instructor watched from a safe distance.

The creature was on the ground, shrieking ominously as it gripped the pain in its gut from Pryce's attack. And Pryce wasted no time with his second maneuver, hurling himself into the air and dropping down with a knee to the creature's chest, the strain on its nervous system instantly causing it to vaporize beneath him. For a moment, Pryce forgot that this was only a training excercise, and that his instructor would have swooped in to save him if he ran into too much trouble. He was startled by the sudden laugh from Chance as he ran out of the darkness and grabbed his arm to shake it, then threw his other arm around him for a congratulatory hug.

In the briefest of moments, Pryce shut his eyes, enveloped in the sweet scent of Chance's cologne, comforted by the touch of his arm around him. He was so happy. But that only made it worse. As he opened his eyes again and immediately broke contact when he realized his instructor was stepping out of the shadows to give him his report.

Pryce held in a sigh he desperately wanted to release as the instructor spoke. Pryce wouldn't remember a single word of it after an hour. Because as the man rambled on about battle techniques and physical endurance, Pryce was still sweating. Not because of the exertion of the fight with the monster, but because of the realization he had just made. That, whenever he glanced over from across the room at Chance, he felt the pace of his own heartbeat quicken. He had to fight the twitch of his lips from blooming into a smile whenever he said something stupid, but was unintentionally hilarious. He had to push away the most obscene images from his mind whenever Chance managed to pin him onto the training mat, and their bodies were pressed so firmly against each other that he could have screamed from the frustration of not doing anything about it. He was in love with his best friend...

Another month had passed, and for once, Pryce's limousine wasn't waiting out back for him to "inconspicuously" sneak into it to be driven home at the end of a long day. Pryce found himself waiting impatiently along the front steps of the building, cursing himself for neglecting to bring his phone with him to call for a ride.

"You're not waiting for me, are you?"

Pryce fought back another tremendous smile as he stood up to greet his friend, who stepped out of the building with that sarcastic smirk he recognized so well.

"You're funny," Pryce replied flatly.

"I'd offter you a ride, but I usually walk home. I just live a few blocks from here, on East Street."

"Oh?" Pryce asked. Suddenly he realized that he had never been to Chance's house. In fact, he had no idea what Chance did after leaving the training facility. Other than the local arcade eatery he would find him sitting alone at every other week, they really had not seen much of each other when it had nothing to do with their goal to become Kamen Riders.

"I'm headed that way myself," Pryce said. Of course, Pryce's house was really located in the exact opposite direction. "Want some company on the way?"

"Sure," Chance replied. And before Pryce could pick up his gym bag, Chance had already reached over and swiped it up, slinging the thing over his shoulder along with his own backpack. Chance would carry both of their bags for as long as they walked. In his surprise, Pryce had forgotten to even say "thank you," though Chance would not have thought it was necessary anyway.

The day had quickly passed into night.

As the two of them walked, Pryce could not keep the grin off his face while Chance talked trash about half the other potential Riders. About the way Hunt always boasted about how he works well on his own, even though he needed extra attention with training missions whenever he wasn't assigned to a group. Or how Victor must have been genetically altered to freeze his facial hairs for the perfect amount of "edgy tough guy stubble." Pryce was howling all the way down the street.

His laughter was almost enough to take his mind off of the fact that they had suddenly taken a swift turn from the good side of town into what his brother affectionately referred to as The Craphole. Suddenly, clean walls of buildings and homes were replaced by graffiti and broken beer bottles. And, though Pryce had spent plenty of time in strange places over the last few years, it was a struggle to keep himself comfortable in such surroundings. And he hated himself for it. Because he knew that few people in the world were as lucky as him, and more importantly, this was the place that his best friend lived.

"WHERE'S THE REST OF MY FUCKING WHISKEY?!"

The sound of Mr. Leery's voice was like an explosion rippling across the street from the open window along the side of Chance's house. Pryce's mouth opened slightly in surprise as he realized Chance was slowing down, looking over to that house as though this was his place. The clamor of broken dishes could be heard from inside.

Pryce watched out of the corner of his eye as Chance's beautiful, sarcastic smile fell away, replaced by something he had never seen before. A look of uneasiness. For the first time since Pryce had met him, Chance looked embarrassed.

Chance said nothing for a few moments. Just stood there, staring quietly down the street, far beyond the house they had arrived at. He must be horrified that Pryce had to arrive at a time like this, when his father had stumbled home early from work, and already found the time to get drunk and cause a fuss. Chance had mentioned once that his mother had died of an illness when he was very young, and somehow Pryce found himself thankful that she was not around to be tortured by whatever must be going on in the half-lit house.

"Listen, uh..."

Pryce's heart jumped when he heard the timid sound in Chance's voice. Another first for them.

"I'll see you later, okay?" Chance continued. "I'm gonna go for a walk."

"Is he always like that?" Pryce asked, almost rudely. But he couldn't help it. He was concerned for his friend, and simply refused to pretend he wasn't hearing those awful sounds from inside that house. The house Chance must have been forced to live alone inside, with whatever was left of the single father that raised him.

"Only on days that end with the letter Y," Chance joked. Pryce could tell he was deflecting the harshness of the subject with his usual brand of humor, but Pryce couldn't bear to laugh. "I usually just go hang out in the park for a few hours till he falls asleep. They've got some pretty comfortable benches in the park, ya know."

"Wait a minute... You haven't slept in the park, have you?"

"Don't do that." A quick flash of anger became visible on Chance's face, but only for a moment. "Don't act like you feel sorry for me."

"I don't." A lie. "But there's no way I'm gonna let you sleep in the park when there's more than enough room at my house."

Chance looked sheepish. Another expression from him Pryce wasn't accustomed to. Before Chance could think of another witty comment to wash away the seriousness or deny his offer, Pryce grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back down the street the way they had come. Right before he grabbed the bags Chance had been holding. He decided that Chance was carrying enough baggage as it was without his own crap weighing him down even further.

"I thought you said you lived in the same direction as East Street," Chance said at last. A little of that familiar tone was back in his voice now that they were headed away from the Leery house.

"Yeah, well..."

Chance glanced at him as though he expected him to continue, but Pryce just shrugged him off and kept walking. There was no way that he was going to tell him that the only reason he walked all that way was because he enjoyed being with him. Let alone the fact that his feelings for Chance were not entirely platonic. There was far too much at stake for both of them, he thought, for such information ever to be spoken aloud.

Chance's eyes were lit up in surprise within ten minutes of when Pryce had used Chance's cell phone (wasting the last of his pre-paid minutes, no less) to call his limousine driver to pick them up. Pryce smiled politely, ushering his friend into the vehicle. It was obvious that Chance had never ridden in a limo before, and he probably was expecting Pryce's mother to pull up in a dented mini-van full of screaming babies or something. Not Mr. Fidgens, the limo driver that had been chauffeuring Pryce around since he was old enough to tell him he wanted McDonald's for lunch.

Pryce couldn't help but find Chance's fascination amusing. He seemed utterly determined to explore every single feature on every single console, including the built-in television set with sattelite link-up and video games. Pryce found himself oddly charmed by his friend's enjoyment. Chance gave him a new sense of appreciation for so many of the things that he had taken for granted. And, when compared to the snobbery of his siblings, who would have pitched a fit if the satellite feed wasn't working on the television, Chance's attitude was a breath of fresh air.

Pryce led Chance up the long stretch of marble that lead them through the front entrance of the mansion. Chance spun around as he walked, looking dreamily up at the assortment of crystal chandeliers that lit up the house at night. Pryce cracked a smile as Chance tried to shake the hand of every maid and servant that bowed when the young man of the house passed by.

But the next time Chance reached out his hand, he almost didn't realize that this latest hand did not belong to someone who was bowing. In fact, it belonged to the young lady of the house, Pryce's elder sister, Ruby.

The young woman snatched Chance's hand before he realized who she was, and she held it there in the air much longer than anyone he had ever met. She looked at him with an almost seductive gaze, her eyes giving him a long, bold stare from head to toe.

"Mm!" was the only thing that came out of her at first. "Hello there..."

"Uh, hi." Chance's eyebrows scrunched together. To Pryce's eyes, it looked as though Chance couldn't believe this girl. She looked at him like she could leap on top of him at any second, without even knowing his name. "I'm Chance. And you must be--"

"Ruby," she said before he could finish. "Like the jewel. Pryce never told me he had such attractive friends. Of course, he's so absent-minded, he probably forgets all about you the moment you start walking away."

Chance shot Pryce a look, but Pryce was too anxious to receive it.

"Well, I think Pryce has a pretty good memory," Chance said, trying to soften the obvious blow to Pryce's integrity.

"Maybe, but not as good as mine," Ruby replied. "I'd never forget a face like yours. In fact, you could do some modeling for my company. I could get you on the cover of Ventara Monthly... if you're willing to put in the work."

The last thing Pryce would have expected was for Chance to laugh, but that's exactly what he did. And perhaps he should have known. Ruby was hitting on him harder than anyone ever had, and practically insinuating that he should prostitute himself to her in exchange for a modeling job. Of course someone like Chance would laugh. From his perspective, the idea that his friend's older sister would try to pick him up was positively hilarious.

"Y'know what," Chance said. "Let me think about it, and I'll get back to you on that."

Somehow, Ruby was already prepared to network with Chance, because the moment he finished speaking, her business card was already being thrust into his face. He laughed through his nose as if to ask "Are you for real?" and then politely accepted the card, watching in amused disbelief as she sauntered off in the other direction.

"Sorry about that," Pryce said in a long breath, slowly ushering his friend into the fifth guest bedroom on the right.

Chance paused as he realized where he was going to sleep that night. The guest bedroom alone looked like three small families could live in it. By the time Pryce noticed his face, they had already forgotten about the wierdness of his sister.

"Oh god, I forgot," Pryce suddenly let out, realizing that one of his art pieces was sitting against the wall next to the extravagant dresser. There were several dried paint brushes and supplies strewn about the room, which Pryce scurried to pick up before Chance would have time to react. But Chance rushed up before Pryce could grab hold of the art piece.

It was a large, white canvas, with a beautiful landscape painted across it in broad, green and blue strokes. A waterfall crashing into the lake bed, surrounded by a forest paradise.

"You paint?" Chance asked before Pryce could grab the canvas.

"Uh, yeah," Pryce answered, slightly nervous. No one had seen his work but the servants, and the only comments they ever gave him were that it was amazing, which was more than likely just the result of them all fearing that they would be fired if they said otherwise. Despite the fact that Pryce would never let that happen.

Chance just stared at it for a long time. It looked as though he was studying every line of it. Or, Pryce thought, maybe he was just thinking of something to say because he secretly thought it was horrible, and wondered how he should be reacting. Pryce frowned in disappointment as he waited for the weak attempts at polite criticism.

"This is good," Chance said.

"Thanks?" Pryce didn't mean for it to sound like so much of a question. But he was still uncertain of how to accept those words.

"Reminds me of Stratmyre's early work. Maybe a little Kavarris."

Pryce had a look of amazement on his face for half a second.

"You're familiar with their styles?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"Yeah, I love their stuff. I paint too. Well, mostly graffiti art, actually. But I can appreciate a well-made classical piece."

"Oh wow, I'd love to see some of your work sometime."

Their conversation continued on for another few minutes. Pryce was genuinely amazed. He would rattle off the names of some of the most obscure artists and Chance would somehow recognize almost all of them. It was the first time he had met anyone close to him that held similar interests. And although Pryce was completely unfamiliar with graffiti art, Chance was more than happy to explore the topic with him. And if there was anyone more capable of holding Pryce's attention during a conversation about urban art, it was Chance. But before their discussion could continue much further, their voices were interrupted by another.

"Pryce," Mr. Treadwell said, stepping into the open doorway of the guest room. "When were you going to tell me you had... a guest?"

It seemed clear that Pryce's father was not happy to see that some common kid off the street was now standing on his pristine white carpet with dirty boots. The man gave his son a look almost as if to suggest that he should know better than to do this.

"Chance's dad had to go outta town for a last-minute business trip. I invited him to stay with us till he gets back."

Chance didn't seem to enjoy the way Pryce's father glared at him.

"And how long will it take him to get back?" he asked rudely.

Pryce opened his mouth to respond, but Chance quickly cut him off. "I'll be out by tomorrow morning."

Pryce tried not to let either of them see the sorrowful look in his eyes. His father shot him an irritated glance and offered an almost threatening "Good night" as he headed downstairs. They both waited motionlessly as the sound of his footsteps grew quieter and quieter.

"I'm sorry," Pryce said as he sat next to Chance (but not too close) on the edge of the bed. "My family's... kind of nuts."

"Don't worry about it, man," Chance replied. "Compared to my dad, these people are awesome."

Pryce didn't want to pry. But it seemed it was easier for Chance to speak about his father now that they were no longer standing in front of that house, listening to him bang dirty dishes around in the sink, looking for his whiskey. And Pryce was so much more concerned than he pretended to be.

"It's just you and him?" Pryce asked. And he tried extra hard to keep his voice from breaking in discomfort.

"Yep," Chance began. "Since I was little. After my mom died, he just kinda..... I remember the last time we celebrated my birthday. I think I was eight."

"Jesus."

"He announced in front of all my friends and their parents that this was the last birthday party the Leery Men were ever going to have. Because real men don't expect gifts or special treatment just for being born. That was for women. And there weren't any women living in that house anymore, so I guess he figured 'Hey, why bother?'"

"That's terrible."

"Yeah, well. It made me realize sumthin. I wasn't ever going to have anything in life unless I worked hard for it. My dad was barely a dad. My mom wasn't around to even do that much. So I had to pretty much do everything myself. I guess that's part of the reason I joined the Rider Program. I got the local car shop to sponsor my admission, and enrolled the first day they were accepting applications."

Pryce sat there, staring in amazement. He had never seen Chance look so serious. Whatever Pryce was going through in the bubble wrapped around him by his parents' money, it was nothing compared to what Chance had been forced to deal with. For him to still be sitting there, having achieved so much, and still able to laugh and joke his way through it all, was inspiring. Something Pryce never thought he'd be able to do if their positions were reversed. But even through Chance's strong outward appearance, there would be the tiniest hint of a more vulnerable side, buried under that sarcastic exterior.

Pryce wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around him and make him forget all of his troubles. But he knew that Chance would never allow it. Chance would hate him for feeling sorry for him. And who could know what Chance would think if he knew the rest of what Pryce was feeling? Even Pryce himself was not certain about how he felt.

"So your sister," Chance said, abruptly. "Is she like that with everybody?"

Pryce was happy to be off the subject of Chance's home life, but clearly embarassed at the subject of his elder sister.

"Unfortunately, yes."

Chance laughed. "Man, she is a riot. She should have her own TV show."

Chance's laugh was infectious enough to force a chuckle out of his friend.

"I know, she comes on way too strong. But somehow, a lot of the guys she meets seem to fall for it."

"Well, I guess I'm not like a lot of guys. She's not quite my type."

An uncomfortable pause. Pryce cursed himself for thinking it, but there was no escaping the spell of curiosity that had suddenly fallen over him. He had to ask. There was nothing wrong with asking. They were friends, after all, and there was nothing strange about posing such a question to a friend.

"So what is your type anyway?"

For some reason, Chance seemed to think that question was hilarious. As though he could see through all of Pryce's bullshit and just could not contain his glee at the sight of him squirming in his seat next to him. Pryce could not look directly at Chance when he turned to face him with a face that must have wanted to ask "Are you seriously asking me that?" As if he shouldn't need to ask at all.

"I kinda thought you knew," Chance said.

Pryce still couldn't look at him. He just kept fidgeting with his hands, glancing over at his own painting, the forest paradise leaning sideways against the wall, half-covered in the shadow of the dresser next to it. It was obvious to both of them that Pryce was feeling much more than he was saying, and Chance was expecting Pryce to pick up on the signals that he seemed to think were obvious.

But as he sat there on the edge of the guest room bed with his best friend, his sparring partner, and potential comrade in battle, with the door to the room wide open, Pryce simply did not understand how Chance could have expected anything from him. He had no idea what Chance was suggesting he should have already known. In that moment, when his fingers felt as though they might shake themselves to pieces on his lap, he was afraid to assume anything at all. For all he knew, Chance was two seconds away from punching him in the face after finally realizing that Pryce wasn't entirely heterosexual and wanting to kill him for it.

Pryce suddenly felt like a complete freak for inviting his friend into his home to stay the night. Completely ignoring the fact that Chance was in trouble, and that he had nowhere else to go, and that this truly was the best place for him to stay the night. Somehow, Pryce coud only focus on the emotions that made up ten percent of why he had asked Chance to come with him that night. The part of him that he tried to suppress, but was doing such a horrible job at. The part that desperately wanted to be with Chance, in a way that he could never expect his friend to accept.

And that's when Chance kissed him.

Pryce held his breath as the firm, but gentle lips of his friend pressed against his own. A shock-wave of emotion blasted through him as Chance finally released him from the kiss, the both of them stunned at what had just happened. Pryce didn't even realize he had closed his eyes until it was time to open them again. The first thing he saw was the curiously frightened look in Chance's eyes as he pulled back slightly. How could Pryce not have seen how nervous Chance had been all this time. As though he was feeling some of the same mixed emotions as he had been just moments before Chance had mustered up the courage to kiss him. At long last, when Pryce finally realized Chance wasn't about to flip out and break his jaw, he exhaled.

Chance's next smile was nervous, but stil far more confident than Pryce could be in his position. "Questions? Comments?"

Chance's immediate humor was enough to give Pryce the courage to answer Chance's query with a second kiss. This time it was Chance's turn to be taken off guard. And the squeel of surprise almost made Pryce laugh right into his mouth as they kissed. Pryce's hand ventured over to graze his friend's cheek as their lips met. He could feel Chance begin to breathe more heavily as they continued, and the feeling of his own erection tightening behind his jeans seemed to creep up on him in the midst of it. In his uncertainty, Pryce finally broke away from the kiss, just barely able to keep himself apart from him.

Chance must have noticed Pryce glancing over at the open door leading to the hallway, where any random maid or family member could have walked by and seen what they had been doing. It was bad enough that Pryce's father did not want the boy in the house at all, let alone that he was kissing him in the guest bedroom, like what he would have referred to as "a godless pervert." Chance immediately stood up and walked over to close the door. And the moment he removed himself from the bed, Pryce fell out of the daze that he didn't know he had been in, created by the warm aura pulsating from Chance as he sat there next to him. He honestly had no idea how strong his need for him was until that very moment.

When the door was locked, Pryce was certain that he had the dopiest look on his face to match how clueless he felt about what might be happening. And of course, Chance found this absolutely hysterical. He unzipped his jacket and tossed it onto the dresser, never breaking his gaze as he inched his way closer.

Pryce found himself gliding backward, as though lifted weightlessly on a current of air, gently pushed back by Chance's kiss. And in a flash, he was back in a daze. That all-consuming Chance-daze that seemed to course through his veins like an electric current. The faint hint of Chance's cologne lingered about them as his body pressed up against him on the bed, one leg locked firmly between Pryce's thighs. The friction grew more intense and Pryce's lips parted with astonishment at how amazing it felt. Which Chance took as an invitation for his tongue.

Before Pryce could even breath, he felt Chance's tongue slick against his own, deepening the kiss. And as their mouths hooked together, hungrily tasting each other, Pryce could feel Chance grinding against his crotch, massaging the erection in his pants with his own. Pryce let out the quietest breath as the pressure grew more intense, the thick bulge of Chance's cock thrusting hard against him. And the sounds Pryce made as he lay there beneath him, gripping the blankets in pleasure- it only intensified Chance's desire for more.

Just when Pryce felt as though he might suffocate from the thickness of the air between them, Chance lifted himself up and yanked his shirt off. And though he tried not to show how out of his mind with lust he was, Pryce could see it in his eyes as he waited impatiently for him to remove his own shirt to reveal the soft skin beneath.

But Pryce did not stop with the shirt. His fingers dashed along his friend's waste, anxiously ripping his belt straps right through the loops of his jeans before unfastening his pants. The moment the front of Chance's pants was parted, his dick came flopping out from the opening. Hard and thick, and so amazingly white, which Pryce was not expecting, but it somehow made him want it in his mouth twice as much.

Chance gasped as he felt Pryce's tongue on his cock, slicking and lathering along the shaft, then forcing the length of it down the warmness of his throat like it was meant to be nowhere else. Pryce shut his eyes, savoring the flavor of his throbbing flesh against his tongue.

"Oh my fucking gawd," Chance stammered, instinctively sucking in his stomach at the sudden licks that sent a shiver of pleasure through his body. And Pryce laughed through it all as he continued to suck the daylights out of him. At least until Chance brought a quick hand to his chin to gently lift up his head. Pryce could tell by the breathless look on his face that Chance was far too close to a climax, and he simply wasn't ready to give it up so soon.

Pryce's sweat-soaked back slammed against the wall as he leaned against the headboard, standing up on the bed, his jeans hanging loosely around his thighs. The first thrust of Chance's mouth was almost enough to finish him off right there. He had been nursing his erection for the better part of fifteen minutes and he was utterly powerless to stop what was coming if Chance continued with such a voracious appetite.

Chance stroked the shaft of Pryce's cock as he sucked the head of it, his wet tongue slipping up and down the slit. He was certain that the tiny drops of precum that seeped out would cause him to stop, but it only made him want more. Before he knew it, Chance had spun him around and buried his face into the entrance of Pryce's ass.

Pryce had to fight the urge to cry out as he felt the wamrth of his friend's tongue penetrating his hole, barely able to contain the intensity of the sensation. Never before had Pryce done anything like this. He was not sure if Chance had either, but the way he worked his tongue around the ring of his ass, it sure as hell felt like it. Chance was reaching between Pryce's legs and stroking his dick as he tongue-fucked him. And just as he thought his ass couldn't get any wetter, that's when he heard the crippling sound of Chance's voice.

"Can I..." It was such a tender, needy whisper. Pryce almost didn't recognize it. But he knew that it was only because Chance was afraid he would say no, or think he was a freak, or whatever other nonsense that the both of them had constantly been feeling for the past several months.

"Do it," Pryce said, though even he was afraid of what was about to happen. "Fuck me."

And the initial sting of it almost made him wish he hadn't invited Chance inside of him. But suddenly, he felt the glistening arm of Chance glide across his chest from behind, pulling him back against him as he stood on all fours, and Chance's kiss was powerful enough to wash away whatever pain he might have felt in that first moment.

And then, like an avalanche had fallen over him, Pryce could feel him. Twisted so beautifully on the bed, Pryce felt the slick of his tongue against his lips and the thrust of his cock deep inside his hole, and he could no longer keep from hollering. Chance was pushing harder and faster now, and Pryce was gripping two massive hands full of the blanket beneath him as if he would fly right off the bed if he didn't hold on. And he could hear it in Chance's voice as he moaned. There was no stopping him now. Chance was so close. His cock was slamming against Pryce's prostate, blasting him with wave after wave of pleasure, literally fucking the cum right out of him.

Pryce lost all inhibitions in the last five seconds of his orgasm, releasing an animalistic cry as a stream of white burst forth from his erection at the exact moment Chance had shoved his cock into him from behind. The milky fluid soared right past his own cheek and struck the pillow before him.

"Fuck!" Chance breathed, humping away until he simply could not stand it anymore. The moment his cock was in his own hand again, it released a shower of white across Pryce's back. Pryce shivered and panted, amazed by how much he enjoyed the feel of it, despite every law of common decency that would tell him not to. He had made it happen. Forced it out of Chance because they both wanted, and needed it to happen. And he was bathed in the evidence of their encounter.

It felt good. Better than Pryce had imagined it would. And Pryce had a very vivid imagination to begin with. Or so he thought.

The two of them took their time getting cleaned up. Chance couldn't help but splash water into his friend's face as they showered together. Pryce, of course, got shampoo in his eyes and Chance simply laughed as he helped him wash it out. Pryce's head hit a fresh pillow half an hour later, his arm wrapped possessively around Chance's body as it nestled closely into him, pulling the thick blanket over them.

Pryce closed his eyes as he basked in the warm, loving embrace of his friend. He never would have expected the night to end this way, with Chance sleeping soundly under his arm, so comfortable and safe, without a hint of reservation in his rhythmic breathing as he drifted off into a dream. Pryce felt as though he could set up shop in that moment and live there until the world crumbled around him and all that remained was him, and Chance, and this place where they slept peacefully together.

But that's not what happened.

For the next several months, the two of them remained fully committed to the goal of becoming Kamen Riders. They fought hard against every opponent, threw themselves into every excercise, overcoming whatever obstacles that stood before them. Soon, there were only a few potential candidates for the final two Advent Decks left to be given a master. The Strike Deck and the Torque Deck.

The day that the last two Riders would be announced was also coincidentally November 17th. For the last month, the Treadwells had grown accustomed to the frequent visits of Pryce's "friend." Long weekends and sometimes entire weeks would be spent there. It had reached a point where he was almost recognized as a part of the family. Or at least a distant cousin that Pryce's parents would have liked to see a lot less of than they did. But Pryce would not allow them to keep him away. Even as rumors about their private relationship began to surface, he merely pushed them aside, attending to more important things. Particularly on a day as important as the 17th.

Chance paused as he stepped into the darkened guest room, surprised to find that there was a cake on the dresser, covered in green and gold frosting, with glowing candles. Out of the flickering shadows that danced about the room, Pryce emerged with a warm smile.

"Happy Birthday."

Pryce expected a smirk of amusement, but what he received instead was a stunned, almost teary-eyed look. The last time anyone had cared enough to celebrate Chance's birthday was when he was eight years old. Chance likely wasn't even aware that Pryce had remembered his birthdate after telling him randomly in some long-forgotten conversation weeks earlier.

"I..." It was all Chance could say. His lips were upon him in three seconds flat.

Nearly a year had passed since the day Pryce had met his best friend. Two birthdays, an unusually awkward Christmas at the Treadwell estate, and a couple of weekend trips later, the two of them found themselves standing in the great hall side by side, in front of an audience of all the previously-selected Kamen Riders. Pryce and Chance stood in a line with three other potentials. And every single person was strong, dedicated, intelligent, and absolutely lethal in battle. Any one of them could have been chosen to take up an Advent Deck.

"Chance Leery, step forward."

He was the second man whose name had been called. The first man was already halfway out the door, fighting back tears brought on by his rejection, after an entire year of tireless effort. Pryce's heart began to pound in his chest as he suddenly realized the man he loved might be headed for the same fate. As much faith as he had in Chance's abilities, he knew that every person in that line was almost as powerful, and there was no way of knowing if Master Eubulon would see in Chance what Pryce had seen all this time. That he was the only one among them truly worthy of that first Deck.

"Congratulations."

Chance blinked for a moment as though he could not believe what he was hearing. Eubulon spoke words like "honor" and "duty" and "excellence" as he thrusted the Torque Deck into his hands and a flash of energy coursed through him. Pryce stood in awe of him, so proud that he wanted to rush into his arms to kiss him and tell him how much he deserved it. But just as quickly as the moment had begun, he heard Eubulon's voice yet again.

"Pryce Treadwell."

Pryce stepped forward, and the grin he caught from Chance's face was too infectious to fight off. Even if it looked ridiculous for him to smile away as he looked up at Master Eubulon, he didn't care. He was riding through an amazing high and refused to push the feeling aside. He had worked too long and hard not to enjoy it.

"I'm sorry."

Pryce's smile dropped. Eubulon's next few sentences did not include words like "honor" or "duty" or "excellence." Except perhaps to advise Pryce to keep striving for those ideas. Pryce was certain that the Master was trying to sound encouraging, particularly since he had made it so far, but Pryce could barely hear him over the sound of his own inner voice screaming in his mind. He had failed. A year of his life devoted entirely to this one goal. This only goal. This one final chance to escape the relentless grip of his parents and that meaningless lifestyle that tore at him from the inside.

Pryce politely thanked Eubulon for the opportunity, who shook his trembling hand and moved on to the next potential. And thank goodness, because Pryce felt as though he might break down right then and there. He quickly turned in order to leave the line, catching Chance's gaze as he walked.

The look on Chance's face defied description. It was as though someone had reached into his chest and ripped his heart out, right when he was at his happiest. His eyes suggested that he would have given anything to be able to rush over and stop him, to try to console him. But they both knew that it would be impossible.

Regardless of what the others might think of Chance suddenly running out in the middle of the selection ceremony, there was nothing that could have consoled Pryce in that moment. In the coming months, Ventara's battle with Xaviax was going to intensify in ways that Pryce could hardly imagine. Not only was Pryce going to be denied the honor of fighting alongside the other Riders to defend his people, but he would be denied the company of his friend, who most certainly would not have time to be with him while fighting on the front lines of what was soon becoming a full-scale war.

It was a short time later that Pryce was riding in his limo, watching the morning news, that he saw the broadcast. Blurred images of a warrior in green armor battling strange creatures. The hero fought valiantly, fending off a horde of monsters as a young girl and her father ran to safety. The newscasters praised the hero, sending out a prayer for his safe journey across the world to fight another day. Pryce sighed with a half-smile. At the very least, he could be proud of his friend for achieving his dream. He had escaped the awful life he was born into, and made something wonderful out of himself.

This was the day Pryce made the decision to join the war effort. Even if he was not a Kamen Rider, he could not let Chance and the others fight alone. He enlisted that afternoon with the Ventaran Global Intelligence Circuit.

The next two months were the most frightening time of Pryce's life. One day, he would find himself hiding in the basement of some abandoned warehouse on the opposite end of the planet, unscrambling covert messages between two enemy camps. The next day he found himself hurling his fist into the jaw of the creature that leaped out of a mirror to destroy him and his unit.

Without the protective skin of a Kamen Rider, Pryce was vulnerable in battle. And though his body would eventually become racked with injuries, he would never allow his enemies to deliver a serious blow. But whenever his knees would buckle, and he felt he could not stand from the pain inflicted upon him, his thoughts would drift back to the time when he and Chance first met that morning on the training mat, and he would force himself to keep going.

A monster came crashing out of the twelfth-story window of his hotel room, thrown out by Pryce's deadly kick, exploding into the ground as it fell. His kick was fueled by the memory of Chance. And against such power, there was no defense.

Suddenly, Pryce's phone began to vibrate in the pocket of his ripped dress shirt. Pryce's jaw dropped when he heard the voice that spoke his name through the speaker. It was the first time he had called him in six weeks. Which might as well have been six years after all that he had been through.

"What up!"

Pryce would have liked to imagine that Chance was only calling him because they were friends. Because he missed his voice. Their long conversations, which could have lasted for hours, on some crazy topic that anyone else would have found ridiculous. And though Pryce could feel a bit of sorrow lingering in his voice for having been apart from him for so long, he knew Chance would probably only be calling for something important.

It took seventy-two hours for Pryce to return to the country after hearing the news. The man who had first been selected to become Kamen Rider Strike was dead. An arrow to his throat while he was out at a bar, partying carelessly without the Strike Deck in his pocket like it should have been. As sorry as Pryce was to hear the news, he couldn't help but feel as though he would not have been defeated simply because he was without his Advent Deck. Because that was what he had been doing for the past two months. He would hear rumors later on that this incident was what prompted the "failsafe program" Master Eubulon embedded into the Advent Decks to ensure that no Rider would lose their life as long as they had their Deck with them. Or so he hoped...

Chance looked different somehow. Not much had changed about his physical appearance, but something in his eyes had shifted since the last time Pryce had looked into them. The escalating war had affected him somehow, but Pryce was not perceptive enough to understand whether it was for the better, or for the worse. And he was equally confused by the awkwardness of Chance's touch when they gave each other a friendly hug outside Eubulon's base.

"Hey." Chance still had a way of communicating a mix of deep emotions through the smallest collection of syllables possible. In Chance-speak, that meant that he was happy to see him after all this time, and glad that he was safe.

"Hey," Pryce replied, almost mimicking his old friend. Because there was something in Chance's tone that told him that things were not the same between them. Even if they both wanted back what they used to have. The severity of their situation was too grave to let it happen.

And then there was Diane.

Pryce would eventually learn that Diane was one of the soldiers assigned to assist the Kamen Riders on reconnaissance missions in the northern sector of the country. It was clear by the way Chance spoke of her that their relationship was not always strictly professional. And a part of Pryce wanted to be angry at him for it. But the truth was that Mr. Treadwell had introduced him to a young woman shortly after the war broke out. She was a snob, of course, but she at least cared enough about the world around her to donate to the war effort with a share from each of her enormous paychecks. Pryce had found that he did not object to her company on the few occassions they dated before he left for Global Intelligence.

Little of this mattered now. Because Chance and Pryce were back together. And though their relationship had gone from friendship, to love, then back to friendship, one thing remained constant. A deep desire to be by each other's side.

And as the last remaining news services continued to report casualties of the growing war, and missing persons reports were filed across the world, Kamen Rider Torque and Kamen Rider Strike continued their tireless battle with the enemy, along with the rest of Eubulon's forces.

And Pryce could often feel the wildly inappropriate smile hiding behind Torque's mask as they were both caught inches away from potential death, but somehow Chance knew that they would both make it out of the battle alive. With the help of Torque's Final Vent attack, they did. And it was Chance who held him tightly as Pryce finally, for the first time, cried into his shoulder when he heard the news that his family had been teleported away, lost on some desolate alien planet ruled by Xaviax, along with nearly everyone else in his home city.

Huddled in the dark of some old, half-destroyed apartment, the two sat together on the dusty floor. Chance had not kissed him since that day at the training hall, before he became Kamen Rider Torque. But as he looked into the tear-soaked eyes of his friend, he could not bear to keep their lips apart.

Chance could never hope to wash away the kind of sorrow his friend felt. But he could lessen his pain. Pryce fought back another well of tears as Chance took him into his mouth right there on the floor. His tongue dashed across the surface of his stiffening cock in ways Pryce never knew it could. And all the while, Chance's gentle fingers never left the back of Pryce's neck, softly massaging away whatever pressures that had built up there after so long, waiting for a release that might never come.

Pryce breathed heavily. He knew that this would not mean that they were together, like it did the first time they were like this. But he did not care. Whether this was the last time, or there were a hundred more times left to come, he was going to savor the touch of Chance's skin against his own. The smell of him that enveloped the hot air between them. The passionate way he applied just the right amount of pressure to every part of him that needed it, even though Chance probably wanted even more.

Pryce found himself on his knees as Chance tugged his own pants off, his legs parting around him, waiting for Pryce to enter him.

"Take me," Chance said. And he did.

Pryce's face was so close to Chance's that he could feel every trembling breath on his skin as it escaped the other man's lips, forced out of him by the steady rhythm of Pryce's cock pushing deeper into his hole. Pryce moved faster as the intensity grew stronger, and Chance's fingers returned to the back of his neck, driving him absolutely insane. Pryce's lips were so wet now. Chance would not allow him to break away from the kiss, even as he fucked him so aggressively that he feared he may yank himself right out of him by accident.

Chance was determined to make him feel it. Not just that he was leaning over a man he physically desired. But that the man he leaned over was someone that cared deeply for him. No matter what would happen in the future between them, he refused to let Pryce go without transmitting that one emotion through his touch. Even if they never touched again. Never heard each other's heartbeat, or told each other dumb jokes that no one in the world would laugh at but the two of them. Even if their lives were entangled with other people through friendship, or love, or marriage. Even if they never saw each other for the rest of their lives. This connection was forever.

"Chance... Chance!"

Pryce cried out as a blinding orgasm ripped through his body, and the sound of it forced Chance to follow him right after, the cum bursting onto his chest as they moaned into each other's tongue-tangled mouths...

By the time Pryce and Chance returned to Eubulon's base, the news had already hit. Fifty percent of the planet was now gone. Even if the rumors were true about Xaviax and his elite generals all having been destroyed, Ventara had been hollowed out by whatever remained of his underlings.

Pryce glanced over at Chance with a grim, hardened look, and he returned his glance with the same expression. They both had lost their parents. Whatever friends or family they might have had before the Rider Program. And however long it was going to take, they knew that the battle was far from over.

==========

The monster shrieked in surprise as a menacing punch came rocketing into its face, launching it several feet back through the falling rain. Out of Pryce's jacket came the glimmering Strike Deck.

"Kamen Rider!" he shouted. And in an explosion of energy, Pryce's body was bathed in light, clothed in the violet armor of Kamen Rider Strike.

Strike lifted his cobra staff through the screen of falling rain, pointing directly at the creature as it stood up to face him, its red eyes glowing in the darkness with venomous hatred. Suddenly, a ball of flame burst forth from its jaws, slamming into the Rider with such strength that he was thrown off his feet, the staff slipping from his fingers into the night air.

Before Pryce knew what was happening, the creature was upon him. Its claws ripped into his suit, sending a stream of hot sparks ejecting from the surface of his armor. Strike tried to wrestle himself free, but the creature was too strong. Pryce's eyes widened behind his helmet as he watched his enemy's jaw begin to open, a smoldering ball of flame about to be shoot from his glowing throat into Pryce's face.

But suddenly, Pryce could hear it. The sound of footsteps. And then gunfire.

Sparks were scattered from the monster's face as a pair of glowing bullets came shrieking out of the shadows, landing between its eyes. Strike took the opportunity to kick the creature off of him and roll up to his feet.

The monster looked up in shock as Strike stood there, locked in a fighting stance, as Kamen Rider Torque stepped into view right next to his comrade. The muzzle of his gun was smoking with the evidence of his last shot, as raindrops bounced off of his green armor.

"You freaks never learn, do you?"

With that, Torque activated his Shoot Vent, summong a massive cannon into the metallic grip of his hands. And as the creature foolishly rushed forward to stop him, Torque pulled the trigger. The ensuing explosion spilled out across the entire rooftop, showering the two Riders with flame and smoke, which was quickly dispersed by descending rainfall.

When the dust finally cleared, Chance and Pryce stood alone together, each gripping tightly to the Advent Decks in their hands. It had been so long since they first received these things. And there seemed to be so much left to do.

"That's why I'm here," Chance continued. "Eubulon finally made up his mind. We're going ahead with the plan."

Pryce stood there in the rain for a long time upon hearing those words, allowing his face and hair to be soaked by the chilling water.

It was time. Eleven Kamen Riders would be placed in suspended animation, while the twelfth Rider remained awake to fight whatever was left of Xaviax's minions on Ventara. It was a plan that not all the Riders seemed to agree with. But after all that had happened to their world, there was not much choice. There was only the faint hope that each of them would be awakened into a world completely free of war. Where they would be free to live, and to love, however they wanted.

"I'm here to bring you back with me," Chance said. "He wants us to begin right away."

"Well, I guess that's that." Chance could barely hear him over the screaming rain. And Pryce did not have the will to speak any louder.

Pryce suddenly realized that Chance had begun moving in closer, as if to kiss him.

"You sure you wanna do that?" Pryce asked. He tried not to make it sound hurtful. His words came from a place of concern. For both of them. Especially given what they were about to give themselves over to.

Pryce had never truly seen Chance cry. And as the raindrops covered his face, Pryce wasn't sure if that's what he was seeing in this moment.

"I'm sure," he said, already diving into him.

Pryce kissed his old friend, his comrade in battle, the love of his life, and walked off into the night.