And what a week! Kamen Rider Sting has just been Vented, adding one more beautiful tally mark to Xaviax's side of the invisible scoreboard.

Not that this counts as a complete victory for him though. Private Ramirez had been his acquisition first, a cute little backup toy he could wind up and send off in his enemies' general direction while his real heavy-hitters gained the time and intel they needed to strike. He had not counted on the boy's curiosity being stronger than his hard-wired sense of obedience to a Greater Cause, and leading him away from the webs that Xaviax had spun.

(I never would have had this problem on Karsh. Questioning an order there was treason. Things ran simpler that way.)

Well. Even so—Wing Knight hardly got the chance to use the boy for anything either. With or without Sting on the board, Xaviax is doing just fine.

He might even say he is winning.

Xaviax isn't one to rest on his laurels, though. He likes to be sure of his victory and then crush the enemy spirit in the bargain. Wing Knight's spirit is no doubt shaken, but only in the way one is when they lose an extra meat shield. The only way to crush him is to take everything else. And it's long past time he coaxed the little hero-in-training over to the right side.

Except—for as fast as things were going before, things slow down after Private Ramirez is neutralized. The two rebels retreat and Xaviax can't locate Kit for hours, hours upon hours. He knows the boy must be grieving his former comrade somewhere, or even letting off steam, but it seems he's at least grown smart enough to avoid mirrors when he really wants to be alone. Xaviax is proud of Kit that first day for finally growing some brain matter after so much time wasted fighting first and asking stupid questions afterward.

By dawn of the second day though, he wants to murder Kit slowly.

He's on a time schedule, you know? Places to go, people to subdue, planets to conquer. He doesn't have time to play hide-and-seek with this brat! The Earth isn't that large, and humans are disgustingly habitual. And one little Venting is enough to completely shake the boy's routine? How in the world will Xaviax mold Dragon Knight into the perfect weapon to subjugate his home planet if he gets weepy and flighty over a boy he didn't even know a fortnight?!

It'd be fine if it was just Wing Knight he was inconveniencing with this juvenile behavior, but Kit is throwing off Xaviax's recruitment timetable now—and that's unacceptable.

(The insignificant little worm.)

Does he know who Xaviax is? What he's accomplished? He is a general. A conqueror of nations. A ruler of worlds. Kit Taylor should feel blessed to garner even a shred of Xaviax's attention, his infinite patience and mercy notwithstanding. But whatever he is feeling is a big blank since the young man remains firmly, frustratingly off his radar.

More time passes, and his vexation peaks and just becomes gloomy frustration. It's enough for him to be found brooding—staring into a nearby mirror, gritting his teeth, asking his own reflection: Where in the world could Kit have gone?

Eventually Xaviax's impatience gets the best of him, after two whole days of searching and snarling, and he calls his newest assets to him to practice the fine art of delegation. The Brothers Cho can surely handle a bit of reconnaissance.

"I want you to watch Dragon Knight," he tells them when prompted. And adds "Just watch," because he is surrounded by hotheaded bricks masquerading as young men and he doesn't trust their self-control one bit.

"Yeah," Albert chirps dismissively, "we got it." His tone alone makes Xaviax want to gnash his false form's teeth, but fortunately Danny convinces his less intellectually-inclined brother that they need to get a move on.

The delegation should make Xaviax feel lighter... and it does, for about three hours. Then things go very, very wrong.

It's partially his fault, of course. He knows the saying. If you want something done right...

But when he'd tried to look for Kit himself it brought nothing but fury, destruction of property and more than a few rants directed toward the comatose man in a flimsy hospital gown currently sitting pretty in his lair. And Kamen Rider Strike could probably find Kit in ten seconds, but he has far more important things to do at the moment. The Brothers Cho should have been a short, swift solution. All they had to do was ride around town, spot that atrocious jacket the boy wore everywhere, and report back without being seen. Simple.

(Except nothing is simple for idiots.)

Danny and Albert find Dragon Knight, all right—and their combined brain matter translates "watch" into "taunt, attack and beat down". The second Kit finally crosses through a mirror into empty Ventara, Xaviax knows—and he's forced to watch with mingled disbelief and rage as Spear and Axe deliberately disobey his explicit instructions to soothe their wounded pride.

(I'll kill them. I'll grind them into paste and pour them into the earth! Nothat would be too good for these self-absorbed, imbecilic—)

Several monsters he's holding in reserve hiss and quiver at the strength of his rage. The only reason they don't perish is because, when Xaviax grips the sides of his mirror and inspects, he quickly realizes that Dragon Knight still lives. He cools off, and dismisses the Karshan armor which has instinctively appeared over his trembling form with a hand-wave. (The monsters cool off too, knowing they will live a little longer.)

He vents to Frank a while about his (their) wayward son, rocking the insensate man back and forth, to distract himself while he waits for the buffoons to return to base. ("Absolutely ungovernable!") Shares a few thoughts with him about the inevitability of Kit's demise, too, once he's finally accomplished the mission Xaviax laid out for him all those months ago. ("Oh, don't give me that look. It'll be a pity after all the time spent molding him... but I'm sure you understand how silly it is to leave loose ends around.") It is a soothing enough activity to keep him from adding a few new volcanoes to the surface of the Earth.

(Though he does not rule the idea completely out.)

He reminds himself that good help is hard to find, and he can't go killing off his own men. Not in wartime. Not yet.

So.

Xaviax is forced to belittle them instead, when the Brothers Cho return and he (so easily) catches them in a lie. Forced to shout at them, demean them, remind them of how disgusting and insignificant they are, small cogs in the grand wheels of his plan. A plan that will include them as fuel if they are not competent enough as agents to follow simple directions. He makes himself so imposing that even Strike cringes in the corner before he can cover the motion. That sight on its own is very satisfying.

"Let me—once more—make myself absolutely clear," he says at the end, when the thunder and lightning behind his words have subsided some. "I don't want Dragon Knight touched. He is not to be Vented. Any plans to rattle the Dragon will go through me, or through Kamen Rider Strike, or you will suffer my unending wrath. Is. That. Clear."

After a chorus of (rude) "yeahs" and a (properly) deferential look from his second-in-command, he bestows upon them his vision for the next phase of Operation: Collar the Dragon. It is time at last for Kit to be reunited with his missing father... or with enough of the man to finally reel him in.

Then he has to cool off, lest he destroy those cogs before they can be of use to him. After another glance to confirm that his underlings are sufficiently cowed, he takes a portal to one of the worlds he's already subjugated. A simple check-in, really—ensuring that all viable life-forms on the planet are under his control, and powering his machines. His (far more competent) generals on this world report nothing but good things—the hive of beings here were far less stubborn than the humans of Earth and had folded quickly to his superior might. There have been no uprisings, and none are projected.

(As it should be.)

Xaviax returns to Ventara, rested and refreshed, expecting very little to have transpired in the two or three hours he's been gone. Nothing outside of his plans, at the very least.

This turns out to be a very overconfident mindset.

It's Strike who delivers the first blow, with an insufficient "General... I have some bad news."

"...That isn't what I like to hear," Xaviax replies lightly. He is giving his lieutenant the opportunity to tell him that the news isn't quite so bad as his expression suggests. That whatever has happened can be worked around.

That is not what he learns.

"The operation at Rosedale was... only partially successful. Taylor got his dad back, but he didn't take our deal."

(...what?)

He has misheard the last part, surely. Surely. No matter. He will give his subordinate the chance to rephrase.

He breathes deeply in. Out.

Then speaks, and punches every word. "What do you mean, 'he didn't take our deal'."

"Taylor came with the reporter girl I was stringing along—no threat to us, I thought. We made him the offer just as you instructed. But Taylor chose to fight instead, and in the midst of the fight he got between us and his father, and got him into the girl's hands. I told the Cho brothers to keep them from escaping, but—"

(But they failed. You FAILED.)

Strike is a quick study—always has been. It is why he's remained the most tolerable human Xaviax has ever wasted any time on. So he knows that Xaviax lowering his voice, slowing his speech, is the most glaring sign of danger ever created in history. He knows how much trouble he is in right now. But—to his credit—he continues giving the worst possible debrief Xaviax could possibly get, at this time where everything should be falling into place.

"This failure is my fault, General. I was unable to keep Frank Taylor under our thumb, and I couldn't get Dragon Knight on side. And... he was stronger than I expected him to be. Even fighting alone and outnumbered, he kept up with me, Axe and Spear. In the end, he cornered Spear, isolated him from us, and—"

NO.

In the blink of an eye, Xaviax resumes his true form once more. Strike breaks off his confession with a choked-off sound of fright when his master directs a blast of pure energy at one of the load-bearing walls of his fortress. His armor shivers on his body, barely remaining on him through willpower alone. He sounds like a mouse—a pathetic, sniveling, quivering piece of vermin, barely good enough to lead around the two other rats.

Except it isn't two, now, is it? Because that is what Strike was going to say. Kamen Rider Spear has been Vented. Xaviax went away for three hours and he has lost a third of his fighting force on this rock.

"You're correct, Kamen Rider Strike," he booms, letting the true tenor of his voice shake his peon and the facility both. "This failure is your fault. And you will spend a very, very long time making this right."

"Y-Yes, General."

There are too many variables he has to deal with now. Now he must contend with a bloodthirsty, vengeful Kamen Rider Axe, who will no doubt be desperate to take Dragon Knight permanently off the board. He must somehow neutralize Strike's pet reporter, whose use in finding new Kamen Riders will dry up now that she knows her "idol" is working for her enemy. He must find a way to turn this new... joint custody arrangement of Frank Taylor into an advantage. He still must find a way to Vent Wing Knight once and for all. And all of this must be done without giving in to the growing urge he has to shelve his earlier plans and wring Kamen Rider Dragon Knight's skinny little neck.

"Bring me Kamen Rider Axe," he commands, "in however many pieces you prefer."

"At once, General."

And the saddest thing is, the most prominent feeling he has (under all this rage) is relief. Because at least Axe wasn't the one Vented. Spear had been far too blunt an instrument. If the universe had given Xaviax the choice, Danny Cho still would have lost his brother today.