As Virgil awoke the next morning, his thoughts wandered off to the night before. So many questions were running through his mind. Most of which he wanted to bring up to Gunther, but fearing another confrontation, and the fact that he more than likely insulted his friend's feelings, he decided to avoid it. He would come up with his own answers in due time. Or well, he hoped at least.

Moving from the couch where he slept for the night, he ventured into the painfully normal kitchen of the Wheeler household. Of course, dishes caked with food bits and glasses full of half drunken liquids littered about. Virgil had intended to clean up with Valerie and Gunther, but instead ended up at the bar with Valerie in tow. Obviously Gunther hadn't come down from his room to clean. Virgil hoped it wasn't because of their fight.

After the arduous task of cleaning up around the kitchen, Virgil had settled down into a stiff kitchen chair, taking note of the time from a plain clock on the wall. Nine thirty. He produced a slightly muffled yawn, attempting not to wake up his friends, hoping that his cleaning in the kitchen prior had not produced such a loud ruckus. Upon stretching, Virgil noticed how sore he really was, something he ignored upon awakening and rising from the couch. His arms and legs produced twinges of pain as he moved back into the living room. Rubbing his muscles, his mind was once again brought back to the night before. And yet again, questions unanswered begun to arise. He would need to talk to Gunther at once.
"Hey." A soft voice approached from the kitchen, it was Valerie, rubbing her eyes gingerly of sleep. Her hair was slightly tussled, and the pajamas she wore were littered with wrinkles. No doubt a night of tossing and turning.

"Morning sunshine." Virgil reached in for a hug, but his aching muscles reacted otherwise.

"Still sore from..."

"Yea." Last night was still a sore subject for the both of them. After what happened, both Valerie and Virgil had awkwardly skipped the rabbit demon's subject of conversation, and went on to more awkward things to say. No doubt creating obvious tension between the two. With Virgil all more than willing to talk about the situation, he had no clue on how Valerie would react.

"You should take a bath to relax your muscles."

"Thanks, I think I will."

And then silence. The two stood, staring at each other, hoping for one another to say something, anything to get off of the subject of last night. Virgil opened his mouth in hopes to utter another conversation starter, when Gunther had abruptly walked downstairs, this time, with a much more 'Gunther-like' appearance. The shaggy locks he sported a day prior, had been downsized to a shorter hair style. His old blue, tattered hoodie had been traded in for a gray one, this time with no visible blemishes. His overall appearance had improved greatly since yesterday, and Virgil was glad to see it. But how would Gunther fair to an apology for yesterday?

"I'm going out. I'll be back later."

Both Valerie and Virgil said nothing as Gunther moved past the living room, into the foyer, and then to the front door. Virgil quickly followed, catching up to his friend as he was about to exit the house.

"About yest-"

"Leave it." Gunther ushered his hand up.

Their eyes locked briefly, but in that moment it felt like an eternity. Virgil's eyes had painted a picture of sadness, while Gunther's produced a look of arrogance, and unforgiven rage. It was clear that the two friends would not make up anytime soon.

"Right." Virgil looked down and heard the door slam in Gunther's stead. For everything that had happened last night, for all the things he yelled at Gunther for, he deserved this. For someone to trust everything his friend had ever told him, and then to deny him that right just once, Virgil deserved all the hate that Gunther could produce.

"Just give him time." Valerie placed her hand on Virgil's shoulder in an act of reassurance.

"Yea."

One minute, Gunther Wheeler had let himself go, and then the next, he was clean again. While everything he saw to be true, and become comfortable with, given some interminable time of course, was ripped from his walls, and placed capriciously in several trash cans around his room. Also laden in several trash bags were the torn, and tattered clothes he had kept over the last few weeks since his mother's death. He had truly let himself go, and Virgil's vivacious words were a grand reminder. So in lieu of the so called talk they had, Gunther decided to clean up his act.

Obtaining a new wardrobe and a nice, sensible haircut, Gunther went ahead and rebuilt his room to the way it had been before the bombardment of demon pictures. Bookshelves were now filled with books instead of paper and several drawing media. His desk was now just that, a desk, with nothing littered about on top. Not even the occasional scribble off the side of the page had existed. A healthy dose of Lysol had helped solved that problem. What suffered the most however, were his walls. The rectangle paper that had once occupied several locations had left an outline along the plaster, a faint reminder of what was there. Gunther would fix it eventually.

However as he could cast the drawings from his room, he could not cast them from his life, for these creatures were all too real. He had seen them up close, more importantly, he fought them. For, like Virgil, Gunther Wheeler was an armored hero. His first encounter with the creatures however, would stick with him for the rest of his life.

This day in infamy, the day his mother died had haunted him fiercely. Every where he went, everything he did, reminded him of his failure to save her on that day. It had driven him insane, so much so, he became a hermit in his own room, only coming out to search for the same creature that had slain his mother. While it was not his ideal existence, it had worked for the few weeks that followed, giving him a solid peace of mind.

But his reverie had been destroyed, by no other than his best friend. Initially taken aback, Gunther had been filled with rage. The combined events of his mother's death, his futile search for the demon responsible, and Virgil's out right honesty had not sat well with Gunther. His first instinct was to attack his friend, brutally beating his frustration into Virgil's thick headed skull. While it made him feel better, it would not be the better option. The better option of course, was to clean himself up, as well as his room, and then start anew, coming straight out to Virgil and Valerie about what had happened the day of the elder Wheeler's death. But would they listen this time?

The moment would occur the morning after the funeral. Over breakfast, he decided. But that moment did not come.

As he descended the stairs that morning, he caught sight of Virgil and was instantly stricken with terrible rage. His heart began to beat hard, almost ready to come out of his chest. The rage was not rage, but in fact fear. More so, the fear of rejection. He needed to be believed, for this had become his life. After a quick exchange, he had left the house quite promptly. Closing the door behind him, he stood bewildered at his failure. Taking a deep breath, Gunther quickly gathered his thoughts, uttering a noise in frustration. He would avoid the house for the rest of the day, as if it had been a hospital overtaken by the plague. An extreme analogy for such a minute problem.

Through many cups of coffee through the day, from a matinee, to a quick bite to eat, Gunther had calmed his nerves, and more importantly his anger. He finally felt as if he was ready to strap on his proverbial doctor's mask and brave his plague ridden house, however the day had different plans for him.

As much as he wished to carry on a normal life, Gunther knew such things were not possible now. Ever since the firefly had attached itself to him, had given him strength and power, when his own body could not, he knew he was fighting for a greater cause, something even greater than his mother's death. And like any good solider, he could be called to battle at any moment. This was one of those times.

Anytime a demon had shed their human persona and assumed their natural form, Gunther always knew. A sixth sense would always alert him, giving him quick flashes of information that he would need to put together in order to save someone. In retrospect, it was a maddening process, gaining the image of a random animal, a street name, a building location, or anything that would tell him where to go. It was almost instantaneous. And if one missed a key location, their charge would be lost forever, another guilty notch in the bedpost. But people like Gunther would never let that happen. At least, not again.

The images played quickly through his mind; a coyote, an elderly woman, and a 'Bannerman road.' His thoughts snapped back into focus, his rambling mouth spewed out the images as if they were a crazy, religious mantra. He would make it there in time, for this situation perfectly mirrored the last time he met the coyote demon, when it killed his mother.

It was as if the sixth sense had been guiding him. No matter how long he had lived in Locksbury, Gunther never tried to get to know the vicinity of the area, looking at a map once or twice to travel too and from out of state, but nothing to study the streets. However, his legs carried him from street to street, sometimes hopping fences, and jumping mediocre sized streams. This Bannerman road was out far in the boonies, and by the time Gunther had finished running, it surely felt like it.

"Hey!"

Startled, the Coyote demon quickly took it's gaze from it's elderly victim, and turned, finding a familiar face. The elderly woman beneath the demon had huddled in the fetal position, ready to give up on life. But as the man with the glasses approached the thing attacking her, she quickly stood and ran away. Gunther had saved another life.

"You again." The Coyote drug his hand across his anthropomorphic face, feeling the twisted and contorted skin, a battle scar from their last encounter.

"I'll finish the job this time." Uttered Gunther, watching the Coyote's latest action.

"I bet your mother would be proud."

Gunther said nothing as he placed a brace like object upon his right wrist. He threw his left hand high in to the sky, and like Virgil before him, a white portal opened up in the skies above to his beckoning call. This time however, a reddish orange firefly descended towards him, landing elegantly in his left hand. Gunther gazed upon the metallic bug and nodded, happy that his 'friend' had come to help. And with that notion, he placed the firefly into the brace, and then locked it into place.

"Henshin!"

HENSHIN!

Black, techno-organic matter erupted from the brace, and nuzzled itself over Gunther's figure. Armor retrofitted his shins, gave him boots, and placed protective caps over his knees, all silver in color. A reddish orange hue of heavier armor took shape upon his chest and back, arms, and shoulders, giving him a fortified look. Two gas tanks positioned themselves upon his back, with two tubes leading down to the undersides of his wrists. And finally, his bulky helmet gave shape, lending him the visage of a welder. The thin slit of the visor glowed a magnificent navy blue color, and reddish orange waves of energy emitted from the firefly on his wrist. The transformation was complete.

This armor had been his salvation, his pride. It gave him the feeling he could topple anything that stood in his way. The Coyote would be the first thing to fall.

He rose his wrists, and fired a blast of cover fire, literally. The raging flames licked out towards the Coyote, grabbing the air around it for sustenance. The Coyote flinched, instantly feeling a twinge of pain on the left side of it's face. Roaring in annoyance, the Coyote charged forth through the fire and flames, putting aside it's fear of fire to strike a blow at Gunther, but the Rider's distraction worked. Gunther had phased out of view, coming up behind the Coyote, and emitting another burst of the element into his adversaries back.

The Coyote clambered to the ground, anger seething from it's closed maw. The fire around him still burnt bright, and like before, Gunther was nowhere to be seen. The demon attempted to sniff out his prey, but all it could smell was the smoke. An excellent distraction, and one well thought out.

However, Gunther could not maintain his constant blanket of fire forever. At the rate he expelled fire, the gas inside the container was running out quite faster than he anticipated, and soon, not even a flicker of the burning element existed.

The demon's charred form stood, enraged with primal fury. The very flesh on his body began to twist and contort as if the fire still licked upon him. Gunther was quite pleased. This time, the demon wouldn't get away.

Gunther's left hand shifted towards the firefly, sliding up a lever slowly, which made the wings of the metallic bug slightly extend. An electrical charge, the same color of his body, sifted through the cracks of his bulkier armor, forcing the heavy plates upward.

"Cast off!" He muttered, pushing the lever on the firefly the rest of the way up, until it's wings were fully open.

For what had seemed like hours, Gunther had not returned. Throughout the day, Virgil had tried to stay occupied, but the constant reminder of hurting his friend's feelings had popped up from time to time. What made the waiting for Gunther even worse, was the awkward conversation between him and Valerie at every turn. He hated it. But he didn't know how to bring up the subject of last night. So in lieu of conversation, the two of them decided to pop a movie into the dvd player, and just watch until Gunther came back.

After about the fifth movie, Virgil placed the steel bowl of popcorn to his side, and shifted slightly, facing Valerie. He took a deep breath and began to say his peace.

"About last night, and before you try and stop me, this is something we should really talk about. I mean, are you ok and all?"

"Yea, I'm fine, just a bit taken a back." Valerie sighed. She took her hands, and placed them together. "I just can't believe that Gunther was right. Here this whole time, I thought he was crazy, and this was just a bizarre coping mechanism, but...but..." Valerie's calm words became shifted with sadness, tears began to run down her cheeks.

"Hey. Look at me." Virgil placed his hand under her chin, and calmly made her focus his eyes. He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his free hand. "I'm gonna promise you something."

"Uh huh?" She whimpered.

"I'm gonna get the one that killed your mother. I just have to find it first."

"The day that mom died," Valerie choked back a few tears and a sniffle, "Gunther kept uttering the word 'coyote' over and over. It might've been that one."

"Then I'll find that one. And I'll make sure he-" At that moment, Virgil doubled over in pain, grabbing the sides of his head. He began to convulse, his breathing becoming erratic. Three images flashed into his mind, as if they were being branded deep into his memory.

"Virgil!" Valerie quickly grabbed a hold of him, trying to calm him down.

"Coyote...old woman...Bannerman road..."

"Virgil, what's wrong?"

Almost as quickly as the images had flashed through his mind, they had left. Shortly after, he stopped convulsing, his breathing once again normal. But as he regained his composure, he knew what had just happened. Another one of those creatures was attacking another innocent, and he needed to stop it.

"Virgil?"

"It's the one Val, it's the one that got your mom. I know where it's at, and I'm gonna stop it before it hurts someone else again." He quickly moved to the hardwood floor and searched under the couch for his backpack. Inside, he found the belt the beetle bestowed upon him yesterday. Putting it on his waist, he raced for the front door, but was stopped once Valerie called out his name.

"Be careful Virgil."

"I will." He smiled and exited the house. Next stop, Bannerman road.

CAST OFF!

The heavy armor, previously segmented, shot off of Gunther's body and traded itself for a more sleek form. The chest armor held a design similar to the back of a firefly, as well as the top part of the back of the armor itself. The shoulder pads hung freely, forearm armor quite sleek in design as well. The helmet was all one color, the reddish orange of the armor, with two antennae jutting from the top. The most prominent feature of the helmet, was the almost smile like design, which seemed to be cracked into the helmet. Finally, the eyes had glowed a deep navy blue, signifying the transformation's end.

CHANGE FIREFLY!

Gunther slowly began to advance towards the Coyote demon, who had fallen over since the transformation, a piece of Gunther's heavier armor must have struck him down. But in it's current state, it couldn't do much except be put down. The burns had spread all over it's body, making moving a very painful, and strenuous process. But it tried to get away as it saw it's death dealer approach.
"I'll make you pay for what you did to my mother. What you did to our family." Gunther's left hand moved to the firefly, closing it's metallic wings.

"Rider Barrage." Upon opening them again, an electrical charge crackled around his wrist, which then sent itself promptly to the top of his antennae, then spread itself to both hands.

RIDER BARRAGE!

He felt the power coursing through his fists, the power to end it all. With just a few powerful strikes, his mother's death would be avenged, and he could go home a happy man. He would go home and tell Valerie and Virgil of his triumph, and how he'd never let any of his family die to these horrid demons.

"You sicken me." Gunther reared his fist high in the air, ready to start the final assault. The Coyote demon had begun to shield itself with it's arms, a feeble attempt no doubt. As he released his fist, his concentration was quickly ripped away from the Coyote.

"Yo!"

While his initial punch had landed, Gunther, from fear of being ganged up on, spun on his heel to find another armored hero staring him in the face. Shock crept through his mind. He thought he was the only one, the only armored hero, but standing before him was another, no doubt brandishing a different transformation device, and metallic bug.

"Who are yo-"

A large explosion ripped through the air, sending Gunther and the other armored hero crashing to the ground. Through the sound of fire burning, and degree crashing upon the ground, the Coyote howled in laughter. He had gotten away again. Gunther slammed his hand down upon the grassy road where he had just fought, creating a small crater. He had let the monster that killed his mother get away again! All thanks to be distracted by the hero in white!

The other hero quickly stood, rushing past Gunther.

"Fuck!" The hero in white threw up his hands in frustration. Was the hero in white after the same demon?

"You!" Gunther stood, furious. He moved his left hand quickly to the firefly, closing the wings yet again. The white armored hero turned to face Gunther, unaware of what was about to transpire. "Rider Barrage." He opened up the firefly again, energy surging from his wrist to his helmet's antennae, and then separately to each wrist.

RIDER BARRAGE!

"Dammit!" The white hero raised his arms defensively, and Gunther went in for the strike.