Prologue

Autumn 2009

Through the bends and turns on a rural road, nestled somewhere in a grand deciduous forest, a motorcycle sped over the dampened pavement. Despite the chill in the air, and the cool moisture that bound itself to everything, the leaves that varied in hues of gold, brown, red, and orange bustled vibrantly as the high velocity machine stirred them. Northern Massachusetts, at this time of year, was an idyllic paradise for tourists (dotted with abandoned farmhouses and lost trails into the forests), yet many local denizens would immediately refute such a statement. As far as many of them were concerned, particularly the younger generation, this place wasn't that memorable—nor was it terrible either. A great many youth would simply exude one utterance: "meh".

Kelvin Maxwell, the operator of the sleek black machine, a Suzuki GSX650F, was one of those people; a youth of eighteen that wanted to get the hell out of here. He craved excitement, a change of scenery, and most of all, anywhere but the lame ass city, built in the seemingly endless forests of Massachusetts, called Zephyr.

Granted, life wasn't so bad either, Kelvin supposed, rounding another bend as the speed of his machine let the cool air move around, but not through, his slender frame. The black leather of his thick jacket, and his riding pants, ensured that the crisp September air would not lay its frosty hands upon his honey toned skin. His father was the dean of the esteemed local university, aptly named Zephyr State University. Throughout his upbringing, his needs were met and more, but the beginning of his senior year had since left him restless. Kelvin wanted to study across the country, abroad in Europe even! However, his father had, as anticipated, continuously pressured him to study at the local university and stay close to home. He didn't want anything to do with ZS-fucking-U. Still, his father had a way of getting what he wanted and Xander, his best friend, already began his freshman year there. Perhaps, with that much considered, attending the school that was hardly his choice wouldn't be the end of the world.

Zephyr State University; he processed that again.

While not an Ivy League institution by any means, the building had an interesting history of political subterfuge and the sheltering of escaped slaves during their arduous journey to Canada. The caverns, primarily, had left plenty of room for the refugees to rest and resume their itinerary. The underground networks resting beneath Zephyr were massive, if one were to speak in the language of understatements. Yet, the only known point of entry into these caves had been through the basement of the main hall on campus. This was, in all likelihood, due to the fact that the campus grounds were the highest point in the cavern as no other construction in this small city ever unearthed them again. The caves were legendary and, as any local knew, off limits because they were long since sealed off from the basement of the school.

Before long, his mind then wandered to the parties on campus.

He smiled, thinking of the mischief that would find him and Xander. There were good times to be had for sure. Kelvin knew there would be an abundance of—

The motorcycle jerked and wobbled, causing his eyes behind the visor of his black helmet to widen with abject horror.

—black ice?

The sudden jolt of a high velocity motorcycle careening out of control pulled him from his moment of reflection. The youth desperately tried to correct his vehicle, though all attempts proved futile. Despite his best efforts, Kelvin was going to crash.

And at this speed...

This was not going to end well.

"Shit!" he cursed, feeling the handlebars of his machine betray him. He wanted to scream, to leap from the machine if it would help. Instead, he went on frantic instinct and desperately squeezed his right hand on the handle for the front brakes.

A huge mistake.

Kelvin propelled forward, landing and rolling on the pavement in hot flashes of agony while the bike's remnants flipped end to end, in a series of maddening cartwheels, before disintegrating upon impact with a tree. When he finally came to a stop, he knew that every limb had been broken—he even lost all connection with his lower body. He moaned futilely, rings of blackness began to blot his field of vision as he felt the warmth of his lifeblood pouring from his wounds and onto the pavement.

The young man, with his whole life ahead of him, lay tattered and broken on an old back road where not a soul could be found for miles. The young man, with his whole life ahead of him, closed his eyes and sank into oblivion.

When he awoke next, which he was sure wouldn't happen at all, thirteen days had passed. The stark white of the hospital room was blinding, if nothing else. He blinked several times, feeling the invasiveness of the intravenous needle that supplied fluid from a bag and into him—via his right hand. Much to his discomfort, he also felt the invasion of a catheter to drain him as needed.

From what Kelvin remembered, before going down, he should have been more banged up than this. It didn't hurt at all, anywhere. He wondered how long he had been asleep for, having no idea it was less than two weeks. He closed his eyes and stretched his awareness to his toes, wiggling them. Before losing consciousness, he didn't feel them at all. Now, he was able to move them and feel them. Kelvin realized right then and there that he was lying in the hospital bed without injury. There were no cuts, no bruises, and no broken bones; however, he KNEW he broke everything and damn near bled out. He shouldn't be unscathed after an accident that severe. Should he?

None of this added up.

Struggling to raise himself to a sitting position in the hospital bed, Kelvin fixed his eyes of dark green on his unscathed—save for the IV—hands.

It was then that he realized that he could feel something clutched in his left hand.

Curious, the young man with tawny, tightly curled hair, opened his hand to examine what it was that he held so tightly: A green flash drive with an inscribed, and strange looking, "C" upon it?

Interestingly enough, there was also a button that he could depress in the center of it. He pressed it.

"CYCLONE!"

The voice emitting from the device was strange, booming, foreign, and spoke with loud purpose, his thumb moved over it again.

"CYCLONE!"

Kelvin coiled his fingers around it tightly. This good luck charm, wherever it came from, would never leave his side. There was some sort of magnetism it held over him, something he couldn't quite place. Dismissing his mental quest for a logical explanation, the young man sank happily back into his bed. He'd never take his life for granted again, or complain about where he was. Whether or not anyone would believe him, he knew in his heart that he was alive when he shouldn't be. His presence, in this very room, was a miracle to the likes of which he could never fathom.

A life, even if it meant never leaving Zephyr, was now a gift that he would not dare to tarnish with petty complaints.

Today, today would be the first day of the rest of his life.

Kamen Rider Double

Author's note:

Well, I knew I'd get this out eventually. This story idea has been rolling around in my mind for quite some time now. Also, I'd like to add that I won't be the only one writing this novel length piece. Kamen Rider Double, which will serve as an extension to our shared toku-verse that began from the where the timeline fractured and created an alternate universe (as demonstrated in The Great Revival), will also be co-written by B Samurai. Not only is it an extension to our own little fanverse, it will also be our Western re-imagining of an amazing series (watch Kamen Rider W, you won't regret it). The two stories (Great Revival and this) are, indeed, in the same universe. Cameos in the future? Possibly! Stay tuned and enjoy!