The Abyss Looks into Me
'There, don't say I never do anything for you.'
He could feel her presence, feel that pulling in his mind that indicated that she was close by. Standing there, his shotgun still held outright, he watched as the former armoured hero Fusion writhed and screamed, his body consumed by vines and thorns.
A shiver of fear ran through him.
"Not like this," he murmured.
He sensed her there, could imagine the expression, taunting, mischievous.
'Oh, are you feeling remorse, servant? Have I wounded your pride giving you a little helping hand?'
"N-No, your majesty," he stammered.
But this isn't the fight I wanted, he thought to himself. Maybe though, it was too late to start worrying about the ethics, because, well, hadn't he used his own weapon to blow apart the first of his enemies whilst they were distracted? If it was chivalry and honour that Kurogane Weiss was hoping to exemplify then he had fallen far short of such a goal.
How long had it been, he asked himself, how long had he resided here in this dead world at his mistress's side, a losing dog running the course over and over again, unable to break away or change the course of his fate. Had he always been this way, had he always been the Crass Reaper?
His hands trembled before the belt.
'You should be thanking me really,' the Authoress continued, 'after all, I've done so much for you.'
There had been a time before this, he was certain; there had been a time before his servitude to the Authoress, before he had been interred within this dead world, trapped amongst these dead shades. For the briefest moment, he recalled another world, full of people, full of warmth, rich red apples hanging from trees, signs of a season he had never seen in this cold place.
'I don't think you appreciate me like you should, Kurogane,' the Authoress pouted, and he struggled to block her out, to focus on the significance of what was taking place before him—and that which had happened before.
The weed witch howled with fury once more, and it took a tremendous effort for him to realise that there was a person beneath those twisted branches. Dimly, he became aware of Punk Rocket on the ground, his clothes stained with blood as he rooted through the exposed entrails of his friend and shouted indecipherable things that he could not fully understand.
'Oh, look,' the Authoress cooed in his ear, 'the little oni was inhabiting a fictional body, we're going to see something fun now.'
In desperation, Rocket reached further and further into the corpse, pulling free a tiny pellet, a shade of lime green stained red by its time within the artificial body. Without hesitation, Rocket tossed the pellet into his mouth and swallowed, ingesting it whole, blood and all.
'It's disgusting, isn't it, the things people will eat,' the Authoress smirked.
With a further screech, the thing that had once been Senkai lunged towards Punk Rocket. Deftly, the man's eyes snapped open, and Kurogane could tell at once that there was something different in his gaze, something different in the manner of his movements as he snatched up the tuning fork and leapt back from the body, deftly avoiding the snaking vines of the Creeper Weed.
"You there," the figure called to him, and at once the voice was both that of Punk Rocket and the deceased Kazama, "if you don't help me stop Senkai then nothing you do here will matter!"
'Oh, he might be right, you know,' the Authoress smirked, unseen by any save for Kurogane, 'maybe you better do what he says. Seems like he knows what he's talking about.'
"Stop telling me what to do," Kurogane growled under his breath.
'Can't,' the Authoress beamed, 'it's my job, you know.'
With a scream of frustration, he drove his two cartridges down into the belt at his waist, exciting the mechanism at his core and stirring it into life, a rasping voice resounding from its built-in computer:
'Lilith! Samael! Death Match!'
The soft chime of Kazama's tuning fork resounded through the air as Kazama/Rocket lifted it to their forehad.
"Henshin!" they called out, their eyes focused ahead of the shambling thing that had once been Mashuto Senkai.
Flames of spirit energy ignited about their body, blistering brightly, yet instead of revealing the form fitting black armour of Kazama's uniform, chains trailing from a skull etched into his chest, something else emerged, worn boots scrapped against the dirt and grass, a trail of dust and dirt rising in clouds about the scarred rubber soles; unsightly boots, heavy workman's issue, steel toe cap and stapled leather, stitching and glue binding the sole to the body, shorn laces trailing in the dirt.
They lifted their head, a grunt of displeasure escaping the lips beneath the heavy steel helmet they wore. The faceplate was chipped and scratched, the green of the original paintwork, the silver of the original steel soon painted over with thick blue, red and white; a garish Union flag painted over the uniform design of the mask's original creators. From the top of the helm, two antennae quivered, running down into the thick red of the Jack's cross and dividing two bulbous insect eyes, red glass shimmering softly.
About their shoulders they wore a torn leather jacket whilst at his back, and the Creeper Weed seemed to fall silent in awe of their presence.
Slowly, they raised their gloved right hand and balled it into a fist, and with a roar of anger, announced their name:
"Camden Rider!"
x
Swinging his guitar around from behind him, Tamashii Genki struck the tuning fork against the fretboard, lifting it up as the air around him rippled with the shimmer of spirit energy.
With a flick of his wrist, flames ignited, his armour called forth, not entirely dissimilar from that which Kazama had once wore, yet distinct in its serpentine design, the helm transformed into the likeness of a dragon, a suggestion of his familial crest.
To his right, the stranger in the awful windbreaker drew forth an oblique cube from the pocket of his jacket and twisted it three times, armour of black, gold, and silver flickering out of godspace and adorning him anew.
"MONARCH of the World!" he bellowed, adopting a fighting stance. "Muda! Muda! Muda!"
Without pause, they charged forwards, adding their strength to Merlin's attacks, the crocodile-creature stumbling, staggering backwards, dark blood seeping from the wounds in its chest.
Howling once more, it threw its arms wide again, a shuddering wall of silver forming from which emerged a number of hideous shapes, the stamp of massive hooves echoing through the void as an army of sickly creatures broke through, many-eyed guises turning towards them as they ground to a halt, colossal and insect-like, translucent wings sprouting from their backs, front appendages raised like scythes.
Before them all, however, Merlin Seno showed no fear. He had seen endless beasts and gods in his time, the dark lord Chernobog presiding over his mountain fort, saintly Marzanna presiding over the underworld, the endless procession of the fae from their palace in Somers Town, the wild hunt that thundered across the skies, Odin's dogs howling in the wind; whatever foes he faced now, he was resolute, determined, and unshaken.
When first he had met Nimue they had both already been old in their years, their appearances dissonant with their experiences. Already, he thought, the world had begun to change even then. When she had finally imprisoned him in the tower and stolen from him the knowledge of those rites that even he dared not use, when the magical forest of Brocéliande had grown up around his gaol, he had not been truly surprised. Other magicians were seldom to be trusted, he reflected, let alone befriended.
And this place, he thought, what of this place? Nimue claimed to not know its location and yet to him it was clear that it was still that same isle wherein his gaol had first stood; despite the idiosyncrasy of it, despite the emptiness, it was still that same place—the Isle of Apples as once as it was called—and if such was true then there must remain the souls of other heroes in this place, heroes greater than him, kings of no small renown. He just had to find a way to unite them, to bring them altogether and thwart Nimue's scheme, whatever it was.
Ahead of him, the foul insectoid creatures chittered with their many mouths and stamped their hooves.
"Way of Blessing number 32," Merlin growled. "Wraiths of Shadow!"
'Copy,' Merlin's belt rang out as he slid his palm across its surface, three identical clones of himself shimmering into being.
In time with one another, each version of the sorcerer lifted up their left hand and exchanged the rings they wore, a chime resounding from each belt as a further transformation overcame each one.
'Phoenix.'
'Djinn.'
'Golem.'
'Leviathan.'
As a group, the four of them rushed forwards, colliding with the monstrous insects with such speed that Genki struggled to keep up, barely holding his own against the enraged host, his gloved hands moving swiftly across the fret of the guitar, blasting out waves of spirit energy that impacted against the shells of the insects
Throwing his head back, the MONARCH of the World howled, his form transformed—right hand the paw of a wolf, left hand a crocodile's tail, a rhino horn jutting from the shoulder—and sprinted forward, dragging the crocodile-beast and rushing onward, never once stopping, screaming all the way as he carried the monster into the fog and disappeared completely.
Readying his guitar once more, it was then that Tamashii Genki became aware of a pitiful wailing, and, eyes widening behind his dragon mask, he noted the small, shivering shape of a child, ash white hair, covered in bruises and wounds. Deflecting a devastating blow from one of the insect creatures with the fretboard of his guitar, the jaws of Genki's mask opened, a plume of fire spurting forth and reducing the creature to ashes within moments.
Hastily, dodging further attacks, cutting through the remnants of the insect army even as Merlin crushed the remainder of them, he made his way over fallen bodies and broken chunks of pavement to where the young girl crouched behind a silent, burnt-out car.
Fear flashed across her face the moment she saw him barrelling across the ground towards her and he hastily disengaged his armour, leaping over one final fallen monster and landing in a crouch beside her. She recoiled instantly, falling backwards and crawling away from him with shock.
"Hey, kid, be careful!" he warned. "We're the good guys, promise!"
She regarded him with disbelief.
"My name's Genki, we're looking for a kid like you, his name is Josh, you know him?"
The child stared at him with incredulity.
"M-My brother," she stammered, "h-he's dead."
The weed witch stumbled this way and that, struck by a blow from the butt of Kurogane's shotgun and caught by a swift kick from Kazama/Rocket's work boots.
At the back of his mind, Kurogane could still feel the presence of the Authoress, and, though diminished, he could sense her disapproval and knew that he would pay for this dearly once the fight was over and all interlopers had departed the realm.
Again, he tried to recall what it had been like before he had journeyed to this place of mist and fog, and dimly, he seemed to recall an apple grove, the presence of animals around him—and yet as soon as he focused on such recollection, he found his thoughts muddled, the past seeming like a dream that forever slipped from his understanding. This, he realised, was no doubt the work of the Authoress's charms. A sudden, heretical thought occurred to him: perhaps if he defeated his mistress, then maybe he would know who once he had been. If the Authoress was defeated, he could reclaim his past, could reclaim all the memories that had been taken from him, the identity that had been unwritten by his service to the child-like empress of this dead world.
The Isle of Apples, he reflected, hearing the term mentioned long, long ago. And yet the fruit of this hideous place was rotten and maggot-ridden, a place filled to the brim with decay and horror. However long he had been in service to the Authoress, whatever it was that had caused him to agree to serve her, he knew now that he wanted no further part of it. He wanted to be free, to live his own life, to know who he had been before this moment.
With the back of his hand, he struck Senkai in the face, blossom and pollen pouring forth as his gauntlets impacted the knot of vines that now constituted his face. At the creature's back, he saw Kazama/Rocket leap up in the air and descend, delivering a vicious chop to the neck that cut through the vines but briefly, revealing the tarnished silver and orange below.
Spinning the shotgun around as he reloaded it, Kurogane reflected that Senkai's possession by the Creeper Weed had occurred when he had tried using further keys to upgrade his armour. It was a ploy, a trick played on him by the Authoress no doubt, a means of controlling him. What would happen, he thought then, if he could break through the vines and load the keys into his own armour; what would happen if he could take that which the Authoress had poisoned and somehow use it to combat her? Would Senkai survive the separation of the possessed keys, would he still be able to function in this world—would it even matter?
Sensing the readiness of his attack, Kazama/Rocket seized the monster, throwing an arm around it and restraining it, yanking one mass of tendrils beyond the back and crushing the throat with the force of their elbow.
"Now," they shouted, "whatever you are planning, do it now!"
Driving the barrels of the gun into Senkai's waist where the belt should be, Kurogane pulled the trigger without hesitation, the terrible thunder of the blast and the impact of the shells tearing away the vines that ensnared him, revealing the Fusion driver beneath, covered in sickening sap.
Brutally, he drove his hand forward, tearing the keys from the belt with a sharp snap. Almost immediately, the plant-like visage began to fall away, Senkai's armour itself unfolding to reveal the likeness of a dirt-stained man in his mid-20s, blue hair streaked with orange, a black shirt with a spiralling white helix etched upon it.
Taking the stolen keys, Kurogane Weiss slid them down into his own belt, that familiar rasping voice of the mechanism waking up once again.
'Eve! Adam! Life Match! Armoured Hero Soul-Saver Reborn!'
x
The four separate incarnations of Merlin Seno's armoured Magus form turned their wands towards the trembling creatures that had broken through the membrane between worlds, a tide of flame, dirt, water, and spirit energy igniting the air around them, arcane words upon their lips.
Hideous and unknowable, the insects screeched in agony, a shimmering wall rising up at their back once more as they struggled to retreat. And yet, none of the armoured mages gave them quarter, the continued assault of Merlin's combined forms crashing again and again to them, shattering bone and warping flesh.
The wall of mercury closed up, taking with it what was left of the remaining few creatures, and the images of Merlin's other forms dissipated as he passed his hand over the belt buckle once more and stepped free of his armour.
In his time, he had seen creatures more brutal yet had never seen anything as foul. Briefly, he wondered from what point in the future they had emerged, what place had birthed such hideousness. This dead world was cursed, he reflected, a place that no living thing should ever have crossed over to.
Beneath his breath, he again cursed Nimue. How many heroes, how many legends had ended up in this place because of her machinations?
"Merlin!" he heard his voice being called. "Merlin, come quick!"
He turned, a look of impatience on his face that slowly softened when he caught sight of the child that Genki carried in his arms.
"This girl is in danger; we need to get her out of here!"
Merlin's eyes narrowed.
"What kind of danger?"
"That crocodile thing, it, ah," Genki faltered, and his voice lowered, a look of terrible pain on his face, "it killed her brother, Merlin. It was working for some guy called Zackery Orion, she says, he says he's going to destroy the world!"
Merlin tightened his fists, his expression darkening, all thoughts of Nimue and the creatures that had assaulted them forgotten.
"Then we need to find this Zackery Orion," he growled, "and put an end to his evil ways!"
A/N: Genki Tamashii created by Rider09 ~ u/1938693
Punk Rocket and Ryunosuke "Ryan" Kazama created by Kamen Rider Chrome ~ u/676659
Zackery Masayoshi Orion created by Lewamus Prime 2019 ~ u/6878339
Merlin Seno created by Timelordkid ~ u/4006703
Mashuto Senkai created by Kamen Rider Yokai ~ u/4133255
Josh McClain created by dannyrockon122 ~ u/5185539
