Session 26
The glowing blue claw of a Shard swiped at J.J.'s leather-armored chest, but he barely managed to lean back in time so that it merely slashed empty air. As it followed the blow with a second slash, he caught the attack on the blade of his saber, and the sharp edge of his sword severed its fingers, the glowing fragments of its hand falling to the ground. The Shard stared silently at its maimed claw for a moment until J.J.'s blade pierced its neck, and it collapsed in a pile of dust.
Taking advantage of the brief break in the battle, J.J. caught his breath as he backed away from two more Shards that were approaching him, holding his sword out in front of him defensively. He was only able to back up a few steps before his back hit the rough wall of one of the run-down apartments typical of Old Marville. For the past few days, Shards had been gathering in the area in unusually large numbers, and he had been asked by the police to help defend the area while simultaneously looking into why so many had appeared in the district lately. Naturally, he had suspected that there might be a Diemon in the area, but there wasn't any evidence of anything out of the ordinary other than the Shards swarming, which had him curious. Was there a Diemon in the area that he just hadn't found yet? Or were the Shards appearing in Old Marville for another reason?
The second Shard ran at him, swinging its fist at him violently, but J.J. was able to duck under the attack and respond with a quick cut across its wrist. The blow was shallow, however, and the Shard didn't seem to notice the counterattack. It continued its charge without slowing down, opening its arms and wrapping J.J. in a bear hug. Before it could do anything more, however, J.J. turned his sword over and stabbed it ruthlessly in the back. The glowing creature dissolved, and he managed to remain on his feet as the ashes crumbled around him. J.J. sighed to himself as he dusted himself off.
He was particularly piqued today, since he was having to fight the Shards alone for the first time in a while. Tristan had asked J.J. to cover his usual patrol routes for a little while. J.J. agreed, though he did ask why, and Tristan explained that he was going to take some time to train and build up his stamina while wearing his armor, so that his lack of endurance was no longer a liability.
It was funny, he mused as he parried a blow from the final Shard before leaping backward to put some distance between him and his opponent. A couple weeks ago, he had been so annoyed with Tristan that he had been thinking it would be better to work alone again. Now that he had gotten that wish, he realized how much he had come to rely on Tristan's assistance. While he could still fight alone, especially against a small group of Shards, he hadn't realized before now how much of a relief it was to not have to keep looking over his shoulder all the time. He almost felt vulnerable without Tristan backing him up, like he was walking into battle with only half as much armor as he would have liked.
The last Shard lunged at J.J., but he held his ground and parried its attack. Its long claws dug deep into the metal of his blade, leaving a long scratch along the flat of his sword. Despite this, he managed to parry the attack just enough to allow him to knock it to the side. Its momentum carried it forward, and J.J. kicked it in the back as it stumbled past him. To his horror, the blow sent it careening through the plate glass front door of an apartment on the bottom floor. Splinters of glass flew everywhere as the Shard tumbled into the living room, its limbs flailing as it crashed into a coffee table. The force of J.J.'s kick carried it through the front room and into the small dining room, where it knocked pots, plates, and utensils everywhere. J.J. winced as the Shard finally collapsed on the linoleum floor of the kitchen, where it stared, dazed, up at the ceiling.
Before it had time to recover, J.J. dashed into the apartment and leaped over the counter to drive his sword into its neck. The Shard looked up at him, its hollow blue eyes meeting his for a long moment, before disintegrating into a pile of dust on the kitchen floor, finally ending the skirmish. J.J. couldn't breathe a sigh of relief just yet, though.
"Is anyone in here?" J.J. shouted, looking around. Then he realized that the tenets might have been hiding, and he added, "This is Page. It's safe to come out now."
When there was no answer, he began to wander through the destroyed living room, gazing back and forth for any signs of movement. Suddenly, his boot nudged something in the rubble. He looked down, kneeling in the glass to get a better look, then grimaced as he picked up a cracked picture frame containing a picture of a woman in a military dress uniform. She was smiling while hugging a red-haired boy in his early teens and an older man that he assumed was her husband.
J.J. swallowed, memorizing their faces so that he knew who to look for while he searched the house for them. He then set the cracked picture gently on a side table before pushing himself up. He spent the next few minutes searching through the house, checking every room thoroughly before deciding that, thankfully, no one was home. At last, he let out a long, slow sigh of relief as he stepped out of the ruined apartment.
J.J. looked down at his sword as he emerged into the daylight, finally noticing the long scratch marring the surface of the metal, and he frowned faintly. Clicking the pommel of his blade, he quickly asked his quill, "Sorry about that. Are you alright? You didn't take any damage, did you?"
The quill flew out of his hand as he pulled his diary from his belt, and it quickly nudged the book open to a blank page, where it began rapidly scribbling. No major damage has been sustained. I will slowly repair over time without any intervention. However, manual repairs would be appreciated if you would like to dedicate the time. Oiling and buffing would restore my natural luster.
"Kinda sounds to me like you just want to be pampered," J.J. commented as he smirked at his quill. In response, it gave a little flick that J.J. interpreted as a shrug. "Alright, once we get home I'll take an oil rag to you. How's that sound?"
Acceptable, the quill replied. J.J. chuckled to himself as he heard police sirens, faint at first but steadily growing louder. He shut his diary and stood with his hands behind his back, patiently waiting for the officers to arrive. When they did, he gave a nod to the police as they stepped out of their cars
To his relief, he recognized Sergeant Eaton immediately. As the officer approached him, he looked over J.J.'s shoulder and let out a low whistle.
"Did you have a grudge against the family that lived there or something?" the sergeant asked, nodding to the half-demolished apartment.
"That was an accident," J.J. said quickly, wincing as he looked at the damaged home again. "But… I want to be sure that this isn't going to cost them. It wouldn't be fair for them to have to pay for something that I did."
"That depends. How good is your insurance?" the sergeant asked dryly. J.J. stared at him as panic began to seize him, and he only relaxed when Sergeant Eaton began chuckling. "Relax. I'm kidding. The city's set aside an emergency budget just in case something like this happened. It's not the first time there's been collateral damage, after all. Everything will be paid for by the city, so don't worry."
"Thank you," J.J. sighed in relief.
"Thank the city council," Sergeant Eaton snorted. "If they'd wanted you to pay for it, your debt would already be in the millions."
J.J. felt his throat go dry as he squeaked, "Yeah… yeah, I'm voting for all of them again next term."
Sergeant Eaton laughed as he looked around, folding his arms over his chest. "No sign of a Diemon, though?"
"No. And no one's reported anything unusual, right?" J.J. asked, which Sergeant Eaton confirmed with a nod. "That's odd. Why're the Shards swarming if no one in the area has a D-former?"
"Good question," Sergeant Eaton shrugged. "Might be worth looking into. Still, if the Shards have been taken care of, there's not much else you can do right now. Why don't you head out and let us handle cleaning up around here?"
"Are you sure?" J.J. asked, still feeling guilty. "I can help if you-"
"Kid, relax," Sergeant Eaton interrupted him. "This is our job now. We need you to be alert and ready in case any more monsters show up. You can't do that if you wear yourself out helping us clean up too. Get out of here for now and enjoy the peace and quiet while you can."
"…Right," J.J. agreed finally. He nodded to the sergeant in thanks and walked over to his bike.
Before he could mount it, however, he felt a shiver run down his spine, and he glanced around. He felt like he was being watched, and the feeling was distinctly unfriendly. It wasn't hostile, exactly… it almost felt more like resentment than anything else.
J.J. looked around warily before spotting the shadowy entrance to an alleyway, and he noticed that there was a young man with bright red hair glowering at him intently as he peeked from around the corner of the building. He felt a jolt of worry, as he'd tried to make sure the area was clear of bystanders when the fighting had started – the last thing he needed was another incident like the one he'd had with Kelsie. However, the young man appeared unhurt, thankfully. Still, the way he was glaring at J.J. with such… disgust unnerved him.
"Is… something wrong?" J.J. called out, dismounting and motioning for the young man to come closer. "We can talk, if you'd like. Are you alright?"
The young man, however, simply shook his head, continuing to glare at J.J. without saying anything. Just as he was starting to feel increasingly awkward and uncomfortable, the kid turned around and ran deeper into the alleyway.
J.J. felt another shudder run through his body as he watched the kid run off. For a moment, he considered going after the young man, but he decided against it. He didn't have a reason to, after all. If he'd had a D-former, J.J. would have chased after him, but he'd made a promise to himself not to abuse his position, and without any evidence that the boy had a D-former, he wasn't going to pursue him.
Shaking his head, he made his way back to his bike, and as he mounted it again, he caught sight of other sets of eyes peering down at him. Thankfully, these faces were smiling in gratitude. He gave them a short wave before taking off down the street. Sergeant Eaton was right. It had been a long day, and without any more Shards to fight, he figured it was time to head home.
Halfway back to his apartment, he powered down, before continuing the rest of the way in his civilian clothes. Once he pulled into his parking lot, he pulled off his helmet and dismounted the Bay-cycle. He looked up to the third floor where he lived and noticed a figure moving around in the window. Worry seized him momentarily, but then he calmed down as he realized that it was likely just Gwen. She had a habit of showing up without calling him, but he didn't mind. At least this time, she wasn't likely to throw anything at him, he mused with a wry grin.
Once inside his building, he bounded up the steps and pushed open his apartment door, grabbing the newspaper from in front of his door as he did. As expected, Gwen was flitting around the kitchen, cooking something that smelled strongly of tomatoes. She turned around when the door opened and grinned at him, before walking over and placing a soft kiss on his lips in greeting.
"What, you're not going to force me to buy you dinner tonight?" J.J. teased her as he shrugged off his leather jacket.
"I think you've been punished enough. You've been a good boy for a week and a half, so I figured I'd give you a break," Gwen replied airily.
"Uh-huh. You were just running out of restaurants to sample," J.J. commented accusingly. Gwen stuck her tongue out at him in reply as he moved past her and headed into a closet, where he kept a toolbox. He could feel her looking at him curiously as he opened the box and withdrew a can of oil and a rag. After closing the box, he turned back around and saw Gwen had raised an eyebrow at him.
"Shards," J.J. explained. He held out his hand, and his quill flew into his palm, at which point he clicked it into its sword form. He showed her the shallow gouge on the flat of the blade, and Gwen tutted sympathetically as he carried it over to his coffee table, spread the newspaper across it, and oiled up the rag. Once seated, he started wiping down the blade.
"That's a shame. I'm sorry about your sword, though at least it doesn't seem to be more than a scratch. At least you don't seem too banged up," Gwen commented, eyeing him as she stirred the contents of the pan.
"Nope," J.J. agreed cheerfully, before pausing. "Is it weird that we're casually discussing how I'm fighting mindless abominations like we're talking about going out for drinks after work?"
"Nothing about our lives is normal," Gwen replied calmly, pushing the contents of the pan around while she glanced over her shoulder at him. She noticed that he was gazing at his sword with a slightly downcast expression. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah… just had a weird one earlier," J.J. said, looking down at the table with a frown while absently wiping his sword. "There was this kid glaring at me after the battle. Now, don't get me wrong, I've had people glare at me before – hell, I can't think of a single instance where Karen wasn't glowering at me. But I didn't know this kid, and the way he was looking at me…."
"Did you do something to him?" Gwen asked.
"I mean, I did trash an apartment by accident," J.J. admitted, feeling guilt welling up in the pit of his stomach as he remembered that. "I'm worried he might have been living there."
"Well… that sucks for him if he did, but we're also in a war here. Things are going to get destroyed, even if you don't mean for them to," Gwen shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it."
"No, I get that," J.J. agreed, pausing with the rag on the face of his sword. "But… it was something in his expression. This look of utter resentment… it went beyond just breaking some things in his apartment. I don't know how to explain it…."
"What, do you think he's going to want revenge or something?" Gwen asked. He could tell she was trying to keep her tone light, even flippant, but she likewise couldn't keep the note of worry out of her voice.
"Maybe?" J.J. shrugged. "Like I said, it's just a gut feeling, but-"
Gwen walked over to him and put her hands on his shoulders, making him look up at her. "Okay, even if this becomes a problem, there's nothing you can do about it now. All you can do is face it when the time comes. For now, there's no point in stressing yourself over what might happen, right? It's just like Tristan said – you have a bit of a tendency to worry over speculation when nothing has even happened yet. Until it does, don't wrap yourself up in knots, or you're going to drive yourself insane."
"I… yeah," J.J. agreed, giving her a rueful grin. "Sorry. You're right."
Gwen smiled at him, taking her hands off his shoulder and walking over to the stove again. "So put it out of your mind. Instead, you should worry about the favor I'm going to ask you."
J.J.'s face fell, and he glowered at her sullenly. "You're not gonna extend my punishment for another week or something, are you?" he groused.
"Why? Did you steal something else?" Gwen asked, shooting him an accusing glare.
"I'm not that stupid," J.J. replied dryly. "Plus, there's no point. Dr. Newman hasn't gotten back to me about his research into the book I already gave him. Why would I ask him to study something else when he's not even producing results from what he was already given?"
"Yet another reason why I didn't want him touching my things in the first place," Gwen said through gritted teeth, before relaxing. "Anyways. What I was going to ask you was if you'd mind coming along with me to a speech that I have to give tomorrow?"
J.J. tilted his head at her, a look of confusion on his face. "What speech?"
Gwen sighed, brushing her bangs out of her eyes as she turned down the heat of the stove, letting their dinner simmer while she turned to look at him. "It was a favor that my brother asked of me. He said that we, as members of the Marks family, are obligated to assure the people of the city that things are being taken care of and that the crisis will be over soon."
"Even if it won't?" J.J. asked, raising an eyebrow. Gwen shrugged in reply.
"It's public relations stuff. The townspeople don't want to hear the truth – that we don't know when the crisis is going to end. They just want to be told that it's being dealt with and that they don't have to worry," Gwen explained.
"Uh-huh. And why is he asking you to do it?" J.J. pointed out. "Why isn't he volunteering? For that matter, if you're trying to keep your head down about your heritage, why is he forcing you into this position? I thought you said he was the one who liked that sort of thing, and that you hated it."
"I do," Gwen sighed. "But in this case, he has a point. We're members of the founding dynasty of this city, and our name still carries weight around here. Even if I don't like it, it's what I can do to help the city in my own way."
"That still didn't answer my question," J.J. retorted. "Why you and not him?"
"Because he's already busy managing rebuilding efforts and infrastructure planning," Gwen explained. "I've told you before that he's the businessman in the family, whereas he generally lets me do as I please, which is more than generous of him. In this case, however, he's too busy and can't make an appearance himself, so it's my duty to be the face of the family."
"Is it, though?" J.J. asked, his tone concerned. "It sounds more like he's giving you an order than asking you a favor."
"He is, a little," Gwen admitted. "But he's also got a point that I've got a duty as a Marks to address the people. Think of it like celebrities coming to a disaster site and speaking a few words or helping out a little. Fame carries weight. It makes people feel better if there's a visible, known presence that assures them that there are people at the top looking out for them and trying to help things get better. If nothing else, it's a morale boost."
J.J. sighed lightly, brushing his fingers through his hair before giving her a concerned look. "I just don't like the idea of him forcing you into it."
"He isn't," Gwen assured him. "This kind of thing has come up before. I really don't mind it in small doses, since it's just a quick speech, and it makes people feel better. But I'd really appreciate it if you could come along and support me."
"Yeah, of course," J.J. nodded. "Do you want me to do anything in particular?"
"What do you mean?" Gwen asked. This time, it was her turn to tilt her head.
"I mean, do you want me to wear my suit?" J.J. asked. "Like, do you want me there in a bodyguard role?"
"Oh! No, you don't have to go that far," Gwen assured him, waving off the question. "This is just a little speaking event at a charity function that my brother put together. There'll be music, a few attractions, and fundraising stalls. He's also donating some of his own money to help repair some of the buildings that have been damaged in the recent fights you've had."
J.J. cringed and looked away. "Ah. So then if I were to show up…."
"It'd send the wrong message," Gwen said with a sympathetic smile. "Don't get me wrong, most of the city is grateful that you're fighting for them. But if you were to show up to an event highlighting the damage that's being done to the city, everyone would connect you with the incidents, and that'd be a nightmare for your PR."
"Right…." J.J. agreed, grinning sheepishly. "Not that I'm trying to destroy the city…."
"No, of course not," Gwen said, walking over to poke his forehead. "But it's one of the realities of this crisis."
"Gotcha. Moral support it is," J.J. said.
"And just by doing that, you've made me feel much better about tomorrow," Gwen said with a grin. "See? Just showing a little support for someone can go a long way."
"Still, one of these days we're gonna have to go on a proper date again," J.J. said thoughtfully. "We haven't had one since we dealt with Irene."
"You've been busy," Gwen shrugged. "I understand. And we go out of our way to see each other all the time anyways."
"Yeah, but it's not exactly fair to you," J.J. replied. "If I'm your boyfriend, I should be doing more to make sure you're happy. So… after the speech, what do you say we get some lunch and hit up a movie?"
"We can do that," Gwen agreed, smiling faintly. "You're a good boyfriend, you know."
"I have my moments," J.J. said modestly. "Though I'll ask you not to buy too many snacks. My wallet is still smarting from all those dinners you made me buy."
"Why would you remind me of that?" Gwen asked, frowning at him, though she was also sticking her tongue out playfully. "I just got done praising you for being a good boyfriend, and you're going to highlight how you screwed up?"
"Ah…." J.J. hesitated. "I mean… we both know that I'm kind of an idiot when it comes to relationships. You shouldn't be surprised by now."
"I'm not. It's part of your charm. And that's why you have me to teach you," Gwen grinned at him, before walking over and pushing him up out of his seat. "Now put down your sword and get yourself a plate before the food gets cold."
"It was smart of the organizers to book this band," Abby commented as she munched on a box of popcorn, nodding her head in time with the music. "They do some good covers."
"You don't like their original music, then, I take it?" J.J. asked, glancing over at her with an amused smirk.
"It's okay, but it's not really my style," Abby admitted.
"And what is? Punk?" J.J. asked.
"K-pop," Abby replied. J.J. stared at her for a moment in disbelief, looking up and down at her gothic attire, and she glowered at him in return. "What? Don't stereotype me."
"Hey, what you like is what you like," J.J. said, holding his hands up defensively.
"It's upbeat and peppy!" Abby protested. "What's not to like about it?
"It's not the music she likes," Ryan said smugly from J.J.'s other side, smirking up at Abby much like a petulant younger brother would. "She's been staring at their lead singer for the past ten minutes." Abby scowled at him and threw a kernel of popcorn in his face while he grinned at her mischievously.
"Enough. Do I have to send you two to your rooms?" J.J. sighed.
"Why'd you bring us here, anyways?" Ryan asked. "Gwen's your girlfriend."
"Because you two said you weren't doing anything, and because there was free food," J.J. shrugged. "I didn't say you had to come. I mentioned that it was something you could do over the weekend if you were bored. I didn't handcuff you and drag you along."
"Abby did," Ryan replied. J.J. glanced at Abby and raised an eyebrow.
"I wasn't coming to this thing alone," Abby said. "And I did want to see this band. Besides, what were you going to do with your weekend otherwise?"
"Play video games," Ryan said simply.
"Well, now you're enjoying the fundraiser with your friends," Abby said.
"I have friends other than you guys, you know," Ryan groused.
"Good for you. Now you're spending time with these friends. So shut up and enjoy the music," Abby snapped at him. Ryan looked up at J.J. with a frown, but J.J. was grinning at how thoroughly Abby had torn him apart. He wouldn't be getting any sympathy from the writer.
"Alright, alright. I can play video games any time," Ryan sighed in defeat. "And yeah, I guess this band isn't that bad."
Abby smiled down at him and tried to ruffle his hair, but Ryan ducked out of the way, still scowling at her. J.J. continued to gaze at the girl for a few long moments, and she caught his look before winking at him, unable to keep the cheeky grin off her lips. She then pointed to the stage to draw his attention back to it. The music had come to an end, and J.J. turned back around and spotted Gwen near the edge of the stage, wearing a form-fitting white dress. She slowly walked up the stairs behind a tall, blond, middle-aged woman in a crisp red suit, whom J.J. recognized as the city mayor, Deborah Strasburg.
"Thank you for that performance… Furyspike?" she said hesitantly, peering at the cue card as if he couldn't quite believe the band's name. She shook her head, and the crowd tittered as she looked back up. "Ah… now, we have a few words from Miss Gwen Marks. As some of you may know, the Marks family were the founders of our wonderful city, and she is one of the last remaining descendants. They were also kind enough to put together this event, so please give a round of applause for Miss Marks."
A smattering of polite applause filled the air as Gwen stepped up to the podium. She paused for a second to scan the crowd, and when she caught J.J.'s eye, she smiled. J.J. winked at her in return, at which point she looked up and lowered the microphone to her lips.
"Thank you, Mayor Strasburg," Gwen said. "First of all, I would like to thank all of you for supporting this fundraiser. Your donations are more than just appreciated – they're essential. They're the lifeblood of this city. But your money's value can't be calculated by mere numbers. Rather, your donations are a mark of how much you, the people of Marville, care about where you live.
"This recent crisis has touched all of us in some way. Some of us have lost loved ones. Some of us have had our homes damaged, and some of us still suffer from nightmares about what we've had to endure. But this crisis has also brought out the best in us. We, the citizens of Marville, have proven our strength, our resilience, by remaining steadfast in the face of-"
"What do you intend to do about it, though?" a voice shouted from the back of the crowd, interrupting Gwen's speech.
The onlookers began muttering, and the crowd parted slightly to reveal the speaker – a young man with red hair and a furious expression. J.J. immediately recognized him as the man who had been glaring at him from behind the apartment the other day. He stood with his arms crossed, staring defiantly up at Gwen.
Gwen seemed momentarily put off by the interruption, but she gathered herself quickly and resumed her speech. "Of course, the emergency staff in our city are doing everything in their power to address the situation," she said, almost seamlessly picking up from where she had left off. "Our police are working hard to keep people safe, our firefighters and rescue teams are saving those caught in the crossfire, our doctors are tirelessly working to treat the injured, and our construction teams are hard at work repairing the unfortunate damage the buildings have sustained. And of course, we have the Kamen Riders to thank for-"
"The Kamen Riders?!" the heckler shouted, almost spitting his response. Several people turned to glare at him, while J.J. lowered his head, scowling to himself. While he still wasn't quite ready to claim the title for himself, he felt a spike of annoyance that this guy was scoffing at all the work he had done to fight off the Diemons threatening the city.
"What've you got against the Kamen Riders?" someone shouted back. There were general nods of agreement, and someone else yelled, "They've been protecting this city! Don't badmouth them!"
"Have they?" the young man snarled. "I think they're part of the problem. Think about it. Everything was fine until they showed up."
"What, you think the Kamen Riders are to blame for this?" someone else asked.
"Maybe. Can you prove otherwise?" the young man retorted.
"Yeah, they've been fighting for us this entire time!" someone shouted back. "Unless you'd prefer letting the monsters kill us." At this, there were smatterings of applause. J.J. glanced over his shoulder, and saw that up on stage, Gwen was looking uncomfortable, as if she was trying to decide if she should continue her speech or not.
"Of course I'm not saying that the monsters are any better," the young man agreed, holding up his hands. "I'm saying that I want all the fighting to stop. We shouldn't be singing the praises of the Kamen Riders when they're half the reason the city is getting destroyed."
At this, a few of the people looked thoughtful, though most, thankfully, still seemed to disagree with the heckler. "They've done nothing but help us!" shouted a little boy.
"They could help us more by not fighting in our streets," the young man snarled. "They should be fighting outside the city, not on our doorsteps!"
"What do you want them to do? Grab a ten-foot-tall ogre and carry it to the woods three miles outside of town?" Ryan piped up beside J.J., and the crowd laughed at that, jeering at the heckler. J.J., however, groaned as Ryan drew attention to them, and he lowered his head a bit more. He had been keeping silent and trying to keep his head down. While he hadn't exactly been projecting his identity, he also hadn't done everything in his power to keep it secret, and he was worried at least a few people might recognize him. Gary had pointed out that he had known J.J.'s identity from the get-go, and he couldn't help but wonder how many other people had also figured out his identity. It hadn't been a problem yet, but with emotions running high and people's thoughts directed towards him and Tristan, if they happened to notice that he looked like the guy who was transforming to fight monsters… the last thing he wanted was to be swept up in the brewing drama.
"I want them to stop fighting altogether!" the young man shouted. "I don't want to walk down the street worrying about whether there's a fight going on around the corner! I don't want to have to constantly look over my shoulder wondering if there's going to be an explosion! I don't want to wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in a cold sweat at the sound of someone riding a motorcycle outside because it sounds like a Kamen Rider hunting for those… creatures!"
There was a moment of silence after this, and a few more members of the audience seemed to be getting swayed to his line of thinking. Then, all at once, the crowd broke out into a shouting match with each other.
"You know, he's got a point. I still haven't gotten my house fixed-"
"Oh, come on! You can't tell me the Kamen Riders aren't doing the right thing!"
"What, you want a war in our streets?"
"Better to have the Riders than the monsters!"
"Are they really any different?! Have you seen what the Riders can do? That ain't normal!"
From J.J.'s perspective, the crowd was split about two to one in favor of the Kamen Riders, but there was now enough dissention that the audience had devolved into a rowdy, spirited shouting match. Gwen grimaced and slowly stepped away from the microphone, since she saw that there was no winning back the crowd at this point. J.J., meanwhile, was fighting his way to the fringes of the crowd, when he heard someone yelling over the rabble.
"Monsters!" someone shrieked, and all at once, the shouts of anger dissolved into screams of panic. J.J. grunted as he shimmied his way out of the crowd just as people began running, and to his relief, he saw that Ryan and Abby had managed to do the same. Both were already making their way over to him. Off to the side, he saw a quartet of Shards shambling towards the fair, their blue claws outstretched and their hollow faces swiveling back and forth as they searched for something.
"Really?" J.J. muttered under his breath. What was attracting these things? Once again, there was no indication that a Diemon was using its powers nearby. Why were they swarming?
"J.J.!" Gwen shouted down at him as she hopped off the stage. "Duck under the stage. There's a space for you to transform."
"Right. Can you get ahold of Tristan?" J.J. asked. "Or Susumu, at least?"
"I'll see what I can do," Gwen replied.
"We'll make sure no one gets trampled," Abby added, and beside her, Ryan nodded emphatically.
"Thanks," J.J. said with a nod. "And stay safe."
"You be careful too," Gwen added, putting her hand on his arm. J.J. winked at her.
"I'm more worried about you. If that went on any longer, a riot was going to break out," he commented.
"And now we get a stampede instead. Transform now, joke later," Gwen insisted. J.J. nodded, ducking under the stage and pulling out his diary as he did. He took a moment to glance around, scowling as he realized how low the stage was. He hoped that his transformation wasn't going to bring the flimsy structure down around his ears.
"Eh. I'll dig my way out if it does," J.J. said to himself he flipped to his stats page and held his book up to his left cheek. "Henshin!"
His Driver materialized around his belt, and he snapped the book shut before slotting it into the central belt buckle and giving his amber D-former a spin. "Adventure: Begin!" his Driver shouted as he was surrounded by an amber die, which spun around him as he was clad in his now-comfortable brown leather armor. As he charged out into the open, he held out his hand, and his quill flew into it as he ran towards the Shards.
"It's Page!" someone shouted, and cheers went up, but J.J. ignored them. He didn't intend to entertain the crowd – he just wanted to deal with the Shards before things became even more chaotic. The timing of the creatures couldn't have been any worse. With the heckler having stoked people's tempers, he was in the spotlight more than he wanted to be, and he swore he could already feel cynical gazes on his back. He quietly warned himself to keep collateral damage to a minimum, especially with so many people still around taking notes on his behavior. Of course, he never wanted anyone to get hurt, but that went double today.
The first Shard took note of J.J.'s transformation, and as predicted, it came after him like a moth drawn to a flame. J.J. gave his sword a small twirl as he muttered under his breath, "Let's get this done quickly." As it drew near him, it swiped a claw at him, but J.J. took a step back to avoid the attack. He stepped in to attack it, but he was caught off-guard as it slammed a fist into his stomach. Groaning in pain, he staggered backwards, muttering under his breath, "What, are they learning my moves now? That's usually worked before."
He let out a cough as the Shard cocked its fist back to slam into him again, but it was telegraphing too much and he could read the attack. His saber flashed above him in a short, vicious arc, and the Shard was left staring blankly at its stump of an arm. Before it could recover from the shock, J.J. slashed it again, cutting it across its throat, whereupon it crumbled into dust.
As he was about to attack the second Shard, however, a voice shouted at him, "No! Stop causing trouble already!"
J.J. paused and glanced over his shoulder to see the young man with red hair standing a few feet away from him, his fists clenched and a look of rage on his face. "Every time you show up, you make things worse! Just get out of here!" he shouted at J.J.
J.J. lowered his head in annoyance, his face bearing an expression of "Are you serious?" behind his mask. "I can't do that," J.J. explained. "I'm not going to let these Shards run wild, especially when there are people around."
"This is your fault! They always show up wherever you are!" the young man accused him, motioning to the Shards, which had stopped for some reason to watch the pair arguing. "And that's when people start getting hurt! I'm sick of people treating you like a hero when all you do is destroy everything around you!" the young man snarled, jabbing a finger at him. J.J., however, sighed and turned his back on the man, ignoring him and focusing on the remaining three Shards.
"Yeah, I don't have time to deal with idiots right now," J.J. said coldly. "You wanna talk about casualties? Most of them are morons like you who stick around watching when they should be running. Get yourself to safety before you get hurt."
"No," the red-headed man replied shortly. "What I'm going to do instead is make sure you can't destroy anything else."
J.J. felt a chill run down his back at those words, and he slowly looked over his shoulder. Then, his eyes widened. The young man was holding a brownish-orange D-former in his hand, and as J.J. watched, he was enveloped in a flash of dark orange light that made him throw a hand over his eyes. As the light faded, the young man's form had been replaced with an insectoid creature. Its chitinous body was dusty brown, and it vaguely resembled a cockroach. However, it had four limbs instead of six and it stood upright, with its front two limbs ending in three-fingered hands. Antenna had sprouted from its head, and they extended out into long, feathery tendrils that looked more akin to moth antenna than those of a beetle. A long, spiked tail whipped around behind it, and its beak-like mouth opened to let out a low, hissing rattle as it stood before J.J.
"Well… that explains why the Shards have been gathering so much lately whenever you were around," J.J. commented blandly, turning his full attention to the Diemon. "You want to know why you've been seeing so many monsters lately? It's because you have that jewel. They're attracted to those things."
"Then that explains why they appear around you, too," the Diemon said, its voice raspy and dry. "Since you're using them like I am. You even have four of them!"
J.J. frowned behind his helmet. He had to concede that point; the Shards did gravitate towards him whenever there weren't any Diemons around. That didn't excuse the young man's own use of a D-former, though.
"Look, I don't want to have to fight you," J.J. began, but the monster cut him off with a short, barking laugh.
"Of course you do. That's all you've done since you first showed up in this city," the Diemon scoffed.
J.J. stared at the Diemon, then said slowly, "I think I know what brought this on. That apartment that I accidentally destroyed the other day… that was yours, wasn't it?"
The Diemon seized up, hissing softly as he replied, "Yeah, it was."
"I see. Look, I'm sorry for the damage I did," J.J. said, holding his hands up. "It wasn't intentional. But the things that were damaged can be repaired or replaced, and I've made sure that you won't have to pay for it. And at least no one was hurt, right?"
"You think that makes it okay?!" the Diemon barked at him. "You didn't just knock over a chair or break a few dishes! That was my home! You destroyed memories, things that were important to me! That wasn't just a bit of property damage, that was my life! What, you think that just because no one got hurt, you're off the hook?"
"That's not what I meant-" J.J. began, but the monster cut him off.
"And that's just one small example of how much damage you've done to this city!" the Diemon ranted at him. "How many other people have had their lives destroyed because of you? How many innocent bystanders have ended up in the hospital, or have wound up homeless thanks to your battles? And how many of them did you offer a half-hearted apology to?"
J.J. swallowed as Kelsie's face briefly flashed before him. He gripped his saber, giving it a little twirl to calm his nerves before taking a slow, steadying breath. "As I said, I'm sorry for how you've suffered," J.J. repeated, his tone much colder. "However, you're using one of the Black Seraph's jewels, and no matter what your reason is, that's not something I can let slide. Even if you don't want me to, I'm going to save you from yourself. I'm going to ask you once – will you please hand over your jewel without a fight?"
"Of course not," the Diemon sneered. "Not until I've made it so you can't ever hurt anyone again!"
"That's… what I figured," J.J. sighed. "Alea iacta est," he murmured, before running forward to engage the Diemon.
To his surprise, the Diemon began cowering in front of him, instead of fighting back. Usually, they were eager to fight. He didn't break stride, however; if he wasn't going to fight, then he could force the young man revert to his human form quickly, which made his job easy. As he raised his blade, however, something flashed in the corner of his eye. His reflexes saved him, as he rolled to the side just as a massive blade cleaved through the air where he had been running a moment ago. J.J. stopped in a low crouch and looked up warily as a looming figure stood over him.
Instantly, J.J. recognized the scaled red armor and bat-winged helmet of Sir Agnar, the self-proclaimed Kamen Rider Dracon. The former Almencian knight rested his flame-styled greatsword on his shoulder, holding it with one hand as he stood between J.J. and the insectoid Diemon. J.J. narrowed his eyes as he picked himself up off the asphalt while Agnar stared at him levelly.
"You have become faster," Agnar remarked. "I see that you have continued to train with Sir Tristan. Though I wonder at his absence. If he trusts you to fight in his stead, his faith is sorely misplaced."
"I don't recall asking for your approval," J.J. snapped, starting to circle around the knight, hoping to get a good angle on the Diemon cowering behind him. Agnar subtly shifted as J.J. prowled, keeping his charge safe. "What're you doing here? I thought you'd decided to become a mole-person and live underground permanently."
"I go where I am needed," Agnar replied. "My lord has decreed that young Oliver here deserves my protection, and he does not trust the Fool to look after him."
"Really now?" J.J. asked, narrowing his eyes. "And what makes him so special? This is only the second time I've seen you play bodyguard for someone. What about the last three Diemons that I took out, how come they didn't get this kind of protection?"
"My lord's plans are an enigma, indiscernible to the likes of mere peasants that-" Agnar began pompously, but J.J. cut him off.
"Uh-huh. Let me see if I can figure this out. He's going after D-formers, particularly ones that are more developed, and if a person can achieve Apotheosis, he feels like he's hit the jackpot. The Fool doesn't have the best track record for giving him fully developed D-formers, but you're obsessed with fully completing any mission you're given. Therefore… Oliver, was it? He's got a better than average chance of achieving Apotheosis, and you got assigned to guard him just to be sure. That about right?" J.J. asked with a smirk.
Agnar remained silent for a few long moments before saying blandly, "You may pontificate all you wish, peasant. The more time you spend speaking, the closer Oliver comes to fulfilling his destiny."
"Fair point," J.J. agreed, pausing in his pacing. "And the only way to get to him is through you, right?"
"Quite," Agnar agreed.
"Hm," J.J. said, chewing on his lower lip. He briefly considered using Thief Class to dart around Agnar and try and take out Oliver as quickly as he could, but he already knew that Agnar would be expecting that trick. Mage Class… Agnar was unaffected by his magic the last time he used it, so he could just stand in front of any spells he cast. And Warrior Class was still too slow to be effective. J.J. smiled grimly behind his mask. He wondered if Tristan's insistence that he learn to master his newest class was in preparation for squaring off against Agnar again. His partner really did have much more foresight than he did when it came to combat.
"If I have to go through you, then Occam's Razor it is," J.J. said, putting his fingers on his red and black D-formers. He gave them a spin at the same time, and his Driver shouted into the air, "Reroll! Multiclass: Paladin!"
Twin dice colored red and black surrounded him, coalescing into a single silver die that spun around him as an organ played, heralding his transformation. His brown leather armor was replaced by heavier chainmail covered by a light grey tabard, and his sword elongated to become an elegant halberd, which he rested on his shoulder as the die finished spinning around him.
If Agnar was surprised by his new form, he didn't show it; his body language betrayed no visible reaction. However, he did remark, "You are carrying yourself with far more confidence than the last time we engaged each other. You must feel as though you can prevail."
"I dunno. Could be," J.J. replied with a modest shrug.
"Allow me to dispel that misconception, then," Agnar said, pulling his claymore off of his own shoulder and holding it in front of him, while J.J. dropped into a low stance, gripping his halberd tightly with both hands. The pair stared at each other silently for a few moments, each watching the other for an opening. It was Agnar that made the first move, lifting his sword up and holding it next to his shoulder before stepping forward and bringing it down in a vicious slash.
J.J. was well out of range of the strike, but he still took an extra step back to prevent Agnar from following the opening strike with a second blow. The red-armored knight spun, using his momentum to charge forward and deliver a second overhand strike, which J.J. again backed away from. Before he could throw a third strike, J.J. jabbed forward with his halberd, the spearhead on the top of his weapon aimed at Agnar's faceplate. The knight easily swayed out of the way, but J.J. followed up the attack with a second jab aimed at his chest. Agnar had stepped forward to press his attack, and he was caught off-guard when the point of J.J.'s weapon connected with his breastplate. Agnar let out a grunt of surprise as the wind was knocked out of him, and he doubled over for a second, allowing J.J. to take another step back.
The way that Agnar slowly raised his head indicated that he was shocked, though J.J. was equally surprised that he'd managed to land a blow on the Almencian captain. He was so surprised that he failed to press the attack, though it was clear that the light jab hadn't done any real damage anyways. Agnar straightened up after a moment, tapping his sternum with his fist as if clearing his chest of a cough. He then gripped his claymore and began attacking once more. This time, he struck with a series of three vicious slashes, one diagonal and two horizontal. The first J.J. stepped away from, the second he parried aside with the head of his weapon, and the third was close enough that he was forced to catch it on the haft. The claymore's blade dug into the shaft of the halberd, and the two were momentarily locked before Agnar lifted his foot and kicked J.J. in the stomach, sending him stumbling backwards as he coughed.
Agnar advanced once again as J.J. took his fighting pose again, with the knight once more gripping his claymore tightly. He brought it behind his shoulder in a vicious attempt to cleave J.J. horizontally, but this time J.J. mirrored the move, slashing at Agnar from the other direction. The metal parts of the weapons collided and clanged loudly in the open air. J.J. winced, his hands trembling from the vibrations running up the haft of his halberd, though Agnar seemed unaffected. J.J. tightened his grip on the halberd as Agnar brought his sword down in an overhead attack, which J.J. caught once more on the shaft. He bent his knees this time, absorbing the blow, before using his low position to push back on Agnar. Though the knight was stronger, he was surprised by the maneuver, actually being forced back a step, and J.J. took advantage of his lowered guard to strike back with another slash of his own. Agnar, however, shifted his blade in time to catch the attack, though the blade of J.J.'s halberd came within inches of striking his flank. Growling under his breath, he didn't press the attack, instead withdrawing and stepping back. The two began to circle each other once again, watching for an opening.
"That new form of yours does seem superior to your previous ones," Agnar commented. It almost sounded as though he was praising J.J. until he added, "Your diary truly has produced yet another wonder of Almencian alchemical engineering. You owe your life to Sir Quintus' genius."
"You act as if I don't know that," J.J. replied blandly, jabbing at Agnar as he spoke, though the knight easily batted the probing attack aside. "And I also owe Tristan for teaching me how to fight properly. I never had any illusions about that."
"It is good that you pay proper respect to your betters, then," Agnar said, thrusting at J.J. with an attack of his own, one that J.J. was able to knock aside. "However, that is the least a peasant should do when a lord turns his gaze upon them. Furthermore, while you have improved marginally, your blows are still sloppy, amateurish. Tristan is wasting his time training one such as you."
"You can stop with the classism any time, you know. We don't even have that kind of class system anymore. No one in this country has to pay respect to a lord, because no one here is a lord. Besides, wasn't Tristan a peasant as well?" J.J. pointed out.
"Tristan is a rare exception, one who possessed enough talent to rise above his station. He earned his knighthood. He is not a thief that happened to stumble across an Almencian artifact that was never meant for him," Agnar snarled at him. "Nor does he depend on his suit's power alone to keep him alive, as you do, peasant."
"And what about you?" J.J. shot back. "I haven't even seen you without that suit on. Aren't you relying on it even more than I am?"
"Of course not. In the end, what matters is not the power of the armor, but the skill of its wielder," Agnar replied. "Unfortunately for you, not only does my skill surpass yours, my armor is far superior to your own, even with your slim improvement."
J.J. bit the inside of his cheek as he considered Agnar's boast. He wasn't wrong, J.J. had to admit, much to his chagrin. Even though he could now counter Agnar's most basic strikes, he knew that the knight was still holding back and studying him, gauging the limits of his power. To his own credit, J.J. wasn't going full-power either – he still had some strength he was keeping in reserve. That said, he could tell that Agnar at his best was still far superior to anything he could muster at this point.
"If that's the case, I suppose I should go all-out, before you decide to stop holding back," J.J. murmured under his breath. He moved his hand down to his red and black D-formers, and he gave them a quick spin. His Driver shouted "Critical!" as his halberd's head began to glow silver-white.
"Ah, so you wish to end this now?" Agnar asked, dropping into a more defensive stance. "Very well, attack if you dare."
J.J. gripped his halberd tightly, letting out a long, slow breath. Despite his declaration, he intended to hold back a bit, since he doubted that even a Critical was going to do any more than moderate damage to Agnar, even if it connected. He couldn't put all his strength into this one attack, or he would be left wide-open for a counter. Hopefully, this Critical would be just powerful enough to cripple Agnar and allow J.J. to keep fighting… if he was lucky. This was a gamble, and he knew that anything less than a perfect strike could have deadly consequences.
Agnar, for his part, seemed amused that J.J. was trying a finishing attack against him, and he calmly held his sword above his head in a counter-attacking position. J.J. gauged his stance while his halberd began vibrating in his hand from how much power was building in the blade. Agnar was no doubt faster than he was, but he had more reach with his halberd. If he could keep just outside of the knight's range….
"Stop!" a raspy voice shouted suddenly. J.J. glanced over his shoulder to see Oliver charging at him. He was surprisingly fast, and J.J. didn't have time to react as the Diemon got inside his range. "I'm sick of the fighting! Both of you… just… stop!"
J.J. tried to step back, but Oliver's long, feathery antenna swept out in front of him, brushing over the haft of J.J.'s halberd before running up the blade. Almost immediately, the glowing in his halberd stopped, and to his shock, the glittering silver surface of his weapon became coated in a thick layer of rust wherever the antenna touched. In a matter of seconds, the edge of his halberd was blunted and useless, its metal corroded to the point where it was swollen and almost unrecognizable.
J.J. immediately jumped back, swinging his halberd at Oliver in retaliation. The Diemon cowered at the blow, closing his black compound eyes, but with the edge completely dulled, it bounced off his hide harmlessly, dealing no damage. J.J. cursed under his breath as he stepped back, running his thumb over the rust in an effort to chip a bit of it off, but it was apparent that the layer of rust was so thick that he wasn't going to be able to remove it. Worse, he was worried that trying to might damage his weapon even more. While his quill had informed him that it could repair itself, he couldn't imagine any way it could shrug off this much rust.
"What're you doing?" J.J. shouted at Oliver, lowering his now-useless halberd while glaring at the Diemon from behind his helmet.
"I already told you, I want the fighting to stop!" Oliver snapped back at him. "That's what the Black Seraph did for me! He made it so that I can make any weapon useless, so that they can't be used to harm anyone ever again!"
J.J. hissed under his breath as he gazed at his halberd, trying to figure out a solution. Warrior Class's hammer didn't need an edge to be effective, but he also didn't know how deep the rust ran. If it had dissolved clean through the metal, swinging the hammer while it was weakened might break the head off entirely. Thief Class was no better, obviously, but perhaps….
J.J. retreated backwards several steps and put his hand on his black D-former, giving it a spin as his Driver shouted, "Reroll! Class: Mage!" Chimes sang gently in the air as he was enveloped in a black die, which spun around him as his silver armor was replaced with a black tunic. His halberd screeched in protest as it was transmuted into a long staff, which he gave a slight twirl as his transformation finished. To his annoyance, however, he saw that the rust hadn't disappeared with the class change, as it had eaten halfway up the haft of the black metal staff. Hopefully, however, it was still intact enough to be usable.
He looked up at Agnar, who stepped in front of Oliver to protect him, his sword held in a defensive stance. J.J. knew that he was in a bad spot – Agnar had previously demonstrated that J.J.'s spells were virtually useless against his armor. However, J.J. also knew that he didn't have any other options, and it was better to at least try to cast a few potentially ineffective spells than use a blunted weapon that he knew had no chance of harming Agnar.
Thankfully, he was already seething with enough anger that he had no issues gathering his emotions to cast spells. He cooled them down and pointed his staff at Agnar, though his true target was the Diemon slinking around behind him. What he was hoping was that he could unleash a spell powerful enough to wash around Agnar and do some damage to Oliver.
J.J. let out a long, slow breath as he released the magic for his spell, focusing as much raw emotion into it as he could. To his chagrin, nothing happened – the end of his staff was too rusted for him to channel spells through. He realized, with growing fear, that he was completely unarmed as he stared down Agnar.
The draconic knight seemed to realize this too. Before J.J. could regroup and figure out another plan, Agnar charged him, holding his claymore above his head and bringing it down in a vicious slash. J.J. jumped back, avoiding the initial attack, but Agnar pressed him, continuing to charge at him. He swung his greatsword around and this time caught J.J. with a short horizontal slash. J.J. let out a yell of pain as it connected with his ribs, and he worried one of them might have cracked. He was thrown across the pavement, bouncing twice before coming to a halt. He let out a groan as he started to pick himself up, while Agnar advanced on him.
"Wait!" he heard Oliver shouting. "I said that I wanted to stop the war in this city! If this continues, then you're not any better than he is! Can't you just let him go? He obviously can't fight anymore!"
"I swore that I would protect you, Oliver," Agnar replied stoically as he advanced on J.J., who picked himself up and put his hand on his red D-former. "I am not beholden to your commands, however, and I will use whatever means I must to ensure that you are protected. In this case, I have determined that I must deal with this peasant, as he continues to threaten you. Though I must confess, I take no small amount of pleasure in dispatching him."
"We can talk this out! Please, just stop!" Oliver pleaded. J.J., meanwhile, gave his red D-former a spin, as at this point, Warrior Class had the best chance of surviving a straight-up brawl with Agnar. Even if that percentage of a chance was in the single digits, he thought bitterly. "Reroll! Class: Warrior!" his Driver shouted, and it bought him a few seconds as he was engulfed in a ruby die that spun around him as war drums played. Agnar stood patiently outside of the range of the spinning die while J.J. gripped his hammer from inside the protective barrier, bracing himself for the attack he knew was coming.
As soon as the die stopped spinning, Agnar brought his sword down in a short, cleaving arc, but J.J. had started his attack before the die had stopped rotating, and the dragon knight was caught off-guard by J.J.'s preparation. The head of his hammer slammed into Agnar's side before his claymore could do more than bite shallowly into J.J.'s armor, and Agnar staggered back a couple steps, to J.J.'s grim satisfaction. Agnar recovered quickly, however, and with J.J. unable to keep up with his speed, he responded by slashing viciously at J.J., who barely managed to defend himself. He was able to deflect the first two diagonal blows, but the third hit his weakened hammer cleanly. The head of the hammer snapped, and J.J. grunted at the sudden shift in weight, stumbling forward. The head of his hammer had almost been severed from the rest of the haft, and it now hung limply, barely connected to the rest of the shaft by a thin strip of metal and rust. Agnar took full advantage of J.J.'s lowered guard and kicked him in the chest. J.J.'s grip was torn from his weapon, and he sprawled on his back a few feet away, almost completely unable to defend himself now that he was unarmed.
Oliver pulled on Agnar's arm, insisting in a panicked tone, "That's enough! You've beaten him, so let's go already!"
Agnar, however, ignored the Diemon's pleas, shaking him off, his gaze fixated entirely on J.J., who pushed himself up onto his elbows as he grunted. The red knight rested his greatsword across his shoulders as he stared down at J.J. wordlessly for a few long moments.
"I must commend you on your surprisingly rapid improvement," Agnar said gruffly as J.J. stared up at him. "You fared far better in this battle than even just a few weeks prior. That is an impressive feat, particularly for a mere commoner. However, you obviously still lack the skill required to fight me evenly. What's more, it is your very growth that marks you as a threat. You may not pose a challenge to me now, but that would likely soon change. Therefore, I shall not take chances. You will never stand against myself or my lord again. Farewell, peasant."
J.J. inhaled sharply as time seemed to slow down. He was vaguely aware of Oliver's desperate pleas for the red knight to stop, of the ruined street around him, and of the throbbing pain expanding across his body. What he was most focused on, though, was the heavy, gleaming, flame-patterned blade that Agnar raised above his head to bring it down on him in one fell swoop, like an executioner about to unceremoniously end a prisoner's life. And he knew that there was nothing he could do to stop it.