Disclaimer: None of the Kamen Rider series are mine; they belong to Toei and their respective writers. I just love playing with them.
Author's Note: This fic started as a challenge from a friend to try to write a Decade story similar in style and tone to Grant Morrison's work—in particular, with a similar tone to Final Crisis, because Decade practically begs for it. I am not Grant Morrison, and have no illusions that I write as well as him, but that should give those of you familiar with him some idea of what I'm trying for. I do promise that I'll try to explain most of the allusions I use (at least the important ones). I've got quite a bit already done on this, and hope to post a chapter a week (usually on Fridays) if there's interest. I hope someone enjoys!
Prologue: What Dark Beast
He has to fall on his own.
That is the purpose of the Gegeru, the universe whispers now. Too late, far too late.
The Gegeru should have prepared the victor for his purpose. Should have made him ready to channel the beautiful, dark energy that could birth their kind from the animals that they hunted. Should have found the strongest of their generation, the best warrior, and blessed him with the ability to bring a new generation into being. To reach the final stage of the gegeru, to stand against Daguva, should have meant a shedding of whatever pacifist poison flowed in his veins. Should have made him entirely one of them. The Linto are capable of it, she knows.
Animals capable of human acts, and the water is bloody around her, wonderfully bloody. How long has she floated here, to know that she is the last? How long will the water hold her, a relic of a dying race, the last true Grongi?
"Oh, so melodramatic."
Hands lift her from the water, water that tastes of blood and sweetness and that evaporates like no true water ever would as soon as she is carried from it.
"You lost on your world, Ra-Baruba-De." He grins, setting her on feet that are shaky and uncertain but definitely still her own. Sketching a Western-style bow, he touches his red, red lips—the only color on him, besides his white teeth—to her hand. "But as my old friends say, there are other worlds than this."
She doesn't know why he laughs.
She certainly doesn't know why it frightens her.
XXX
He is younger than the Kuuga that she knows. Younger in age, younger in bearing, younger in power and control.
He is lonelier than the Kuuga that she knows. His world is far removed from him, and there are severed bonds there that bleed his strength away. Who was it that they killed, to hurt him so deeply? Which of the humans who stood beside her Kuuga did he lose? Did her detective die, the Linto whose eyes shone with a Grongi's strength?
She doesn't know, and she doesn't, definitely doesn't care. The Man in Black has given her a chance to redeem and reclaim her people, to bring to fruition the aborted genesis, and she will not squander it.
He has to fall on his own. Young as he is, lonely as he is, as in touch with the darkness inside him as he is… The boy has already fallen. Twice, three times, his Linto mind wrenched open and drenched in the power of her people.
All she has to do is make him fall of his own volition.
XXX
The Man in Black laughs, reporting to the others, because she's going to do it. She's got all the tools, all the knowledge, and all the drive needed to make the boy fall.
And there's nothing more fun than seeing two religions collide head-on.