MT: Hey, everyone before we get into this next chapter, I want some time to talk with you.
Rika (Sarcastically): What, you're going to finally give up on writing all together?
MT: No, I just want to say that I have gotten this whole reviewing thing down. Now anyone, member or not, should be able to get give me some feedback, and if not, I would like member to inform me.
Rika: I don't get it most people with half of a brain would know that. So, what's your excuse?
MT (Shrugging): When I first started posting, I didn't know better, then there was the fact that I just got a job, and that makes things a little harder.
Tamer Riders Chronicles 1:
Curse of The Crimson Rider:
Chapter Two: His Name Is Crimson
The mysterious rider looked at the young woman in front of him sadly. It was like he had waited years to see the infamous Digimon queen, but now; it was like he regretted his decision. And yet, he couldn't take his eyes away from her. The entire world could be ending at this very moment, and yet, he could care less.
The rider let out a faint sigh after a minute of staring Rika in the eyes. He then walked up to her, giving her a passing glaze before heading to his bike.
"Wait!!" Rika said, turning around. "Just who are you?"
The rider hopped onto his bike and grabbed his helmet. He slipped it over his head, and made sure it was fastened tightly. He then lifted up the eye shield and looked sadly at Rika.
"Just call me Crimson, and lets left it at that," the rider, now known as Crimson, said sadly, his voice muffled by his helmet.
He then lowed his eye shield and started his bike. The machine came to life silently and he gave the throttle a twist. He then sped off, without looking back at the confused Rika.
Once he was out of Rika's sight, he stopped his bike and lifted his eye shield. He let out a heavy sigh, as he looked back hoping to see a trace of the fiery redhead. Sadly, he was to far away. So, he let out another heavy sigh he looked forward.
"You're such a gogglehead," Crimson said to himself bitterly. He then rode on, not ever bothering to look back again.
(…)
Somewhere, deep within the city, stood a new, shining company building. The early morning sunshine shined off of the building's many windows, and the large, black with white outline, SI makes this building quite the eye catcher.
This building, Shocker inc., had become something of a household name. Since it had opened their door, more then three years ago, it had turned out one miracle product after another. The sell things that range from simple wrinkle cream to high tech gadgets that make everyday living a breeze. But, even the most successfully, whitest company could have some dirty secrets they like to keep under their hats.
In the packing garage of the Shocker inc. building, stood a man near the elevator. He stood about 5 foot, 10 inches, with a tram, lane figure. He wore a tan business suit with black loafers and a red tie, tuck firmly into his shirt pocket. He had red hair, kept in a small, neat ponytail. His eyes were a deep drown.
The man was standing on a small patch of artificially grass, as he placed a golf tea into the grass. He then placed a golf ball on the tea, then grabbed a 9 iron from the bag located to his right. He lined the club up with his ball and looked out towards quiet packing garage. He pulled back the club, lifting it behind his head.
"Four!!" the man called out in a business-like voice as he snapped his club down, connecting with the small ball on the ground.
The man looked up, watching as the ball soared through the garage. It easily cleared ten feet and continued to go. The man let a small, satisfied grin appear on his face as he turned to his bag and proceeded to get another ball. He heard the elevator din as he set up for another shot. He paid little mind to it, having a good feeling to who were behind those doors.
The elevator's doors opened, and out set a man in his earlier twenties. This new man was skinny, almost to the point to be considered a weasel. He wore a black suit, brown loafers, and was minus a tie on his white shirt. His black hair was cut short and gelled back. He stood about 5 feet, 6 inches, making him feel like a mouse in front of this man.
"You here to give the report, Hajime?" the man asked in a true business like manner, without taking his eyes away from his work.
The man, now known as Hajime, flinched when he heard his name. He fiddled with the report, almost dropping it while trying to open the folder. The man paid little attention to this, as he set up for his next swing.
"W-Well sir, I'm happy to report that our new hand held video recorders are selling much more then the marketing boys had first suggested. And, our military contracts are exceeding more then even we had first thought-"
"Hajime, I don't care about those reports," the man said, taking another swing.
"Right," Hajime replied slowly, then begin flipping through the report. "It's appears you were right, Mr. Hiei, your test subject did indeed go for one of his former friends."
The man, now named Hiei, was silent, once more setting up for another swing. He set up the ball and then replaced his 9 iron, with a 5 iron. He set up from another swing and then said," Hajime, reminded me, did we assign a squad of prototype to watch our test subject's former friends?"
"Umm, yes we did, sir." A confuse Hajime said. "But sir, I still have doubts about using the C-series. They're not design for direct combat. In close-quarters combat, the test subject would easily defeat them."
Hiei just let out a dry chuckle as he took his swing. He watched, as the ball soar through the garage, not reaching the range of his other swings, but still quite far.
"Hajime, what would happen if you were stripped of your clothes, and drop near a clothing store? What would the first thought in your head?" Hiei asked as he got himself a new ball.
"Umm…" Hajime thought that one over for a couple of seconds. "Well, I would first get some clothes to save face."
"Right," Hiei said. "It's the same with attachments."
"Umm, I'm afraid, I don't understand," Hajime said in confusion.
Hiei took one more swing before calling it a day. He put his club away, and then let out a faint whistle. Almost instantly, a strange creature emerged from the shadows, quickly hurrying to its master's heel.
The creature made one think of a hybrid between a cat and a chameleon. It was the same size of an avenge cat, with the body to match, but it was hairless, and had figures that a feline shouldn't have. It have webbed feet, yellow scales all over its body, and has a chameleon-like tail. Finally the head was a mix of cat and chameleon. It has the long face of a chameleon, but also had the ears of a cat.
Hiei pointed into the garage, in the location were he had swing his balls. The strange creature was more then happy to do as it was told, eagerly running into the garage, searching for its master's balls.
"It's actually quite simple. We took very important attachments from our little test subject. And since then, he's trying to cling to his ever fading humanity, he would naturally seek out the few attachments he has lift," Hiei said, watching as his pet collected his balls.
"But sir, the chances that the test subject would try to interact with his former friends were highly ampoule," Hajime said nervously.
"Still, possibility was there. Take me pet, for instant," Hiei said watching his pet work.
Hajime looked at the hybrid, watching as it scurried around the parking garage, looking for his master's golf balls. Hajime was confused. What did his employer want him to see?
"For over thirty five years, we have use different methods to fuse two opposite creatures together, to create a being of great power. And yet, time and time again, our creations had fallen to those riders, wearing masks. So my question to you, Hajime," Hiei looked at his confused employee, a slight look of amusement in his eyes," Why do we continue to use such methods, when we know it doesn't work?"
Hajime looked back at his employer's pet, thinking over what he was just told. Truthfully, he didn't understand it. In fact, he was more confused then before. Hiei must have picked up on his uneasiness.
"It quit simple. We have grown attach to these methods. And removing those methods are harder then most think. So we just improve on them," Hiei said causally, but changed his tone into a more business fashion," I want you to recall all of the spies from their missions. Then, I want some more advance C-Series on the redhead. Understand?"
Hajime nodded his understanding, and turned back to the elevator. When he stepped into the elevator, he turned around and looked at his employer one last time. Hiei was currently praising his pet for collecting all of his golf balls. He thought, not for the first time, what his boss and place of employment was truly like. It wasn't something he was too comfortable with, but hey, the pay was good.
(…)
Deep within the darkest, most ugly of the city, a long figure rides. Crimson rode on his silent machine, his thoughts heavy. On one head, he was very happy to see Rika, but on the other had, he knew he had just made her a target for his enemies. And he wasn't all too sure if he is capable enough to project her.
You really screwed this one up, didn't you he asked himself angrily.
Crimson made one stop before he decided to head to his temperately residence. It was an old, rundown gas station. It looked like it was on it last leg. It was one of the old small models, with the yellow and white strap paint job. But the paint was chipping and peeling all over the building. But, despite the aging, outward appearance, the gas was the best you could find in this part of the city, and it's had good items for sale.
Crimson took off his helmet and place it onto his still running machine. He knew it was dangerous to leave any machine running, especially when you're in a part of a city that had descended into gang rule three years ago. But he also knew that his machine wouldn't let anyone ride him, unless Crimson said so.
He dismounted from his machine and walked up to the door. He quickly scanned the area, making sure that no one was around. It was the dead of the night, but still, he wasn't the type to just go anywhere without being cautious. He had to many enemies, looking for him to be careless at this point. Then again, what's the point of riding around the city for hours on end, if you're just going to be caught, right?
Crimson stepped into the store, a small bell ringing as he opened the door. Once inside, he again scanned the area. There wasn't a soul, expert for himself and the storekeeper. The guy himself wasn't anyone special. He must but about 40, by Crimson's guess. He was about average height with a slight built to him. His face has some light wrinkles, forming around his eyes and around his cheeks. His black hair had just started to gray and thin. He wore just a simple attire of a stripped shirt, a pair of black jeans, and white high tops.
The middle aged man looked up when he heard the bell ring. When he saw one of his normals, a kind, almost fatherly smile appeared on his lips. Memories threatened to overwhelm the mysterious rider with crimson hair, so he quickly made his way to the location in the small store. As he walked, he dipped his hand into his left pocket, and took out some money. He frowned when he saw he didn't have as much as he hopped.
"Looks like this is my last one here," he muttered to himself.
Crimson reached the cooler area and want straight for the bargain beer. He found the cheapest six-pack he could fine and took it from the cooler. He then hurried to the front counter, and places the pack on it. When the old storekeeper saw the beer, he just shook his head in disappointment.
"If anyone knew I was giving this to a minor, well I could kiss my job good-bye," the storekeeper said in a kind, fatherly manner.
Crimson was silent as the storekeeper rang up his item. The storekeeper gave his silent customer a look that was so much like the look a father gives his son when they do something bad. Still, Crimson just stood there, like a statue, waiting for his beer. The storekeeper just sighed, and then gave the price, which Crimson handed over the needed money.
"You know, kid, if it wasn't for you, this store would probably have gone under a while ago," the Storekeeper said as he handed over the six-pack of beer.
"What do you mean?" Crimson asked, slightly curious.
"With Shocker Inc. around, it wouldn't be much longer before all of the small owned business like this, are brought out," the storekeeper said, sounding a little sad.
As the mention of Shocker Inc., a faint angry looked appeared in his eyes. Also, a crimson red glow appeared around his left hand. He quickly shoved it into his jacket pocket, to avoid the storekeeper from seeing it. He then grabbed the beer from the old man, and hurried out to his bike. He stripped his six-pack tightly to the back of his vehicle and hopped on, grabbing his helmet in the process. He slipped it on, fastened it, and looked at the store quickly, before riding off into the night.
(An hour later)
Crimson had drove for an hour, driving all around the inner part of the city, until he final reached his distention. He pulled into an old, abandon Inn at the edge of the west side of city. He quickly scanned the area before shutting off his bike and dismounting. He untied his beer and walked over to the manager room. He kept his eyes darting around, looking at every shadow that moved. Once he was sure that on one had followed him, he entered into the room.
He went over to an old, falling apart, easy boy, and collapsed into it. He didn't care that the chair was basically falling apart, with springs sticking out all over the thing. In fact, it wasn't very comfortable at all, but Crimson could care less.
"Even if I felt pain anymore, this would probably feel better then that bed I was on for three years," Crimson said bitterly.
He set the six-pack on his right side, and took out of one the bottles. He opened it and quickly downed the entire bottle in a few seconds. He then went for the next bottle in the pack.
It's bad, I'm barely sixteen, and I already have such a high tolerance, and this is just my second six-pack, he thought bitterly.
After finishing off the entire six-pack, Crimson had relaxed just enough to fall into a light slumber. But, as the mysterious, yet, oh so familiar rider slept, old memories resurfaced in the shapes of dreams, or more like nightmares.
He could see them. Men in white, holding knifes of all sizes. He could feel the cold metal touched his skin. He could hear his own screams as he felt the knives cut into his flesh. He could smell the scent of his own blood as he felt the knife cut deeper. He could hear voices, whispering, wondering what they were going to "improve" next. He could feel their hands, entering into the openings they just created, filling his body with mysterious chemicals. Then the climax of the nightmare came. A man came into his view, grinning like a mad man. He then said that he was going to put these new improvements to the test.
"NNNNOOOO!!!!" Crimson punched through the fog of his nightmare, punching the wall in front of him.
The mysterious man stood there, the only sound he heard, was the sound of his own panting. As his mind became fully alert, he realized it was just another one of his nightmares. He pulled his right hand free from wall, and looked it. A thin, clear liquid fell from his hand, dissolving before reaching the ground. He looked back to the wall and notice that another hole had been made. He glazed to his right seeing three other fist sizes holes.
Sighing heavily, he walked back to his chair and fell into it. He stared up at the rotting ceiling, mind to worked up to get back to sleep. And since he was broke, he couldn't get any more beer to try and relax his mind.
"Besides, wouldn't it just end the same way?" he asked himself solemnly.
So he just set there, looking at the ceiling, while trying to forget these terrible events of his past.
(The Next day)
Rika walked to school, thoughts still on the event that occurred yesterday. She couldn't shack the feeling that something about the mysterious rider was familiar. It was almost like a distance memory one she was having trouble recalling.
Great, I'm getting as mossy as my mom, Rika thought with a faint sigh.
She stopped and looked in the window of a nearby store, studying herself. In these last three years, Rika had finally talked her mother to let her attend a public school. But she found that she still had to deal with annoying school uniforms.
She was currently wearing a blue uniform with one of these stupid sailor tops. She didn't understand why they needed to wear a red scarf either. It just seemed pointless in her eye. The only thing she found a plus with this new uniform, was the skirt. It was below her knees and didn't give people view of her well-toned legs. She didn't need any more admirers, drooling over her body. She got enough of that when her mother forces her into one of stupid photo shoots. Still, problems could come in all shapes and sizes. Speaking of which…
Rika could see from the corner of the window that someone was trying to sneak up on her. She acted as she didn't see her stalker and want about her marry way. She walked down the street, which would took her to her school, acting as if nothing was wrong, when she suddenly felt something or someone grabbed her skirt.
She snapped around, thrusting her school bag into the side of her stalker. The guy fell to the ground with a small groan and a faint thug. Rika glared at the only person dumb enough to try and sneak a peek under her skirt.
"Damn it, Kazu, how long are you going to keep this up?" she angrily asked the boy.
Kazu shioda rubbed his soar cheek as he got into a sitting position. He then looked at Rika with a prevented smile. In the last three years, Kazu was one of the few tamers that hadn't changed in the least. He had grown taller in these last few years, but his personality hasn't change that much, if you count that fact that he has become more prevented.
"How's it going, Rika?" Kazu asked in that loud, annoying voice he had.
Like Rika, Kazu also sported a school uniform. It was a complete black uniform, with a button down shirt, which he kept undone. But, instead of wearing a usual white dress shirt, he wore a red sleeveless t-shirt with the word punk written in black letters. He had since got rid of that visor he wore as a kid and now sports a short ponytail, but like most other things, he didn't work with him.
Rika just rolled her eyes and turned around, ignoring Kazu like she usually does. But Kazu rarely gives up.
"So, Rika, doing anything this Saturday?" he asked as he got up and begin walking beside her. "I got those totally awesome tickets to that new movie, I was hoping you would go with stud like me?"
Rika frown angrily, trying her best to block the big idiot out. In the last few mouth Kazu had shown to have a giant crush on the former digimon queen, and like the big idiot he was, pestered Rika to no end.
"It's the newest Sci-if movie with the robots that change into cars, and stuffs, I forget the name," Kazu continued senseless babbling.
Rika couldn't take that boy's annoying voice any longer, and decided it was time to stop this. She suddenly snapped around, swinging her school bag around. The bag connected with the still babbling idiot, right in the head. Said idiot fell to the ground, goofy look to his face, and out like a light. Rika couldn't help but smile as she turned around and continued on her way to school.
Maybe a week of detention would get that idiot off of my back, Rika thought angrily.
She suddenly stopped, bodying tensing as her trained senses and instinct, told her that wasn't along. She quickly scanned the area. She didn't see a thing, but she still trusted her gut feelings. So, she decided to test her feelings.
Picking up her pace slightly, Rika kept her eyes and ears on her surroundings. Sure enough, she heard a faint sound. Wanting to confirm her suspicions, she turned right, heading into a nearby, vacant lot. She walked to the far side of the packing lot and turned around, waiting.
She didn't have to wait long. Three men emerged from the shadows seconds after she entered the vacant lot. They were a lot like the last bunch of freak she meant last night. One of the most noticeable differences was the coloring on their clothes. But the biggest difference was the hair. Unlike the last bunch, who had military haircuts, these guys, have wild hair, in outdated hairstyles.
These guys wasted no time. Their forms shivered and the changed, just like the last ones. They grow to about six feet tall, gained armors, muscles and became more animal-like. But unlike the last ones, these new group became more feline-like, jungle tiger to be exact.
The one in the center has purple markings around his face, one each on his checks, turning up half way across. His eyes were outline in markings, and finally, a mark in the shape of the Japanese character for death, on his forehead. The one on the left had the least markings, with just one covering his right eye. Finally, the one on left had a marking, running down the center of his entire face.
"NOT MORE!!" Rika screamed and wasted no time in trying to escape.
She want for a fire escape that was behind her, hoping that these guys weren't go at jumping or climbing for that matter. She had used this method to escape from that prevented idiot when he wouldn't leave her along, and wasn't in the mood to hit him. But she had forgotten one of the primary rules when facing a foe you didn't know. Never show them your back!!
The freak show suddenly moved with speed you wouldn't imagine someone of they size and bulk could. They were on Rika in just a couple of steps, moving almost ninja-like as their run silently. The lead freak quickly snapped his hands out, wrapping his fury fingers around Rika's arms.
Rika felt like cursing herself to hell and back. She had just made one big rookie mistake, one that would cast anyone on the streets their lives.
Great!! I see a bunch of freaks, and I lose my fighting sense. Who am I, Kazu? She thought sarcastically.
She really didn't have time to think as she felt those fury hands, gave her a strong pull. Out of instinct, she tightened her grip on the fence. Again, she felt another pull on her, and she tightened her grip even more, causing her knuckles to turn white. Rika knew it was only a matter of time before she gave out on this little game of tug-a-war. After all, this freak probably was stronger then her.
"LET HER GOOO!!!" an angry voice roared.
Surprised, Rika let out of the fence and found herself falling to the ground, her face narrowly avoiding the fence all together. The reason behind that was because her captor had let her because of the voice. Shaking off the shock, she quickly turned around and saw, through the legs of her would be kidnappers, who the voice belonged too.
She was slightly surprised when she saw Crimson, getting off of his strange bike, at the packing lot entrance. But what was really surprising was the look of rage, engraved on the mysterious rider's face. It was like something had just seriously pissed this guy off. And even tough as nail Rika, found him a little scary at the moment.
The mysterious rider began advancing into the vacant lot, his footsteps heavy. Rika notice right away that her so-called kidnappers were afraid of this guy, more then she was. It was like they knew something she didn't.
That's when she heard it, a dip, dip sound. Immediately and out of habit, she looked to the sky, only to find it clear and blue. That's when she heard the noise again, and immediately found it source, namely the mysterious crimson haired rider.
A strange, thin, yellow liquid was dripping from the rider's shirtsleeves mouth, his pants legs and the collar of his shirt. She watched in shock as the liquid quickly spread around his entire body as if it had a will of it's own. The yellow stuff, coming from the shirtsleeves, quickly oozed it way up the arm, while the one of the coming from the pants legs, where creeping up the legs. Finally, the liquid coming from the collar was covering the rest of his body. It was even starting to wrap around his head.
Just what the hell is going on? Rika screamed in her head.
(…)
MT: Man, am I keeping you, out there in reader land, in knots, or what?
Rika (Sarcastically): Oh, I bet they're at the edge of their seats.
MT: Well, beside the Royal pain in the backside, I was asked a question once. And to answer that question, I will be using the old school Kamen Riders from the 1970s to the 1980s. Though they wouldn't be making an appearance in person.