Chapter 11: Rage and Pain

Standing on the roof of a tall glass building, Alain surveyed the scene before him: a city street, crowded with humans, and surrounded by tall buildings, which were almost as tall—if not taller-than the Black Pillars back home. He breathed in, savoring the sights and smells of the human world. He always loved how the land of the living stimulated his senses. That was one luxury not offered back home, unfortunately. When the Ganma took over, he mused, he'd be sure to do something about the lack of smell the world of the Ganma had to offer.

"My lord," a Ganma Superior knelt. "Our troops are in position."

"Good," he nodded. "Move out on my command."

The ghostly commander bowed and left to attend his unit. Alain rose and leapt off of the ten-story-tall building, landing on a slightly smaller building. He leapt from rooftop to rooftop, only stopping when an unfamiliar voice caught his attention.

"Say, you wouldn't happen to be with Foundation X, would you?" the decidedly English-speaking voice called out. He turned, coming face-to-face with a white man of average stature, clad in a black polo and blue jeans. His dark hair was slicked back and his green eyes betrayed a steely glint. "Odd getup, weird device on your arm, armored subordinates. You lookin' for Animecon or something?"

"You can see me?" Alain frowned. "I thought we were supposed to be invisible to humans, yet I run into your type with surprising frequency."

The human shrugged. "Dunno 'bout that. It doesn't seem like you're with Foundation X, though." The steely glint returned. "Then you must be the ghosts Mr. Terui was talking about. What brings you to beautiful Los Angeles?"

"None of your concern, human," Alain dismissed. "Stand in our way, and you'll be trodden underfoot."

"Got it," he said dryly. "So, I take it you're not here to sightsee." From his pocket, he pulled out an odd-looking USB. Producing a toylike pistol from behind his back, he pressed a button on the stick, causing a "Rocket!" to resound from the device, before jamming it into the handle of the gun.

"Memory Change!" he commanded, pulling the trigger. With a burst of light, he had transformed into a figure wearing blue armor and a black undersuit. "Rocket Gunner!"

"I did not expect to find a Kamen Rider here," Alain muttered, having transformed into Necrom right after the human pulled the trigger.

"I'm not a Rider per say, but I do work with them," came the reply. The helmeted non-Rider aimed his gun. "So, you gonna come quietly?"

A punch from Necrom was all that he got. The human responded by firing off shots as he rolled, causing Necrom to stumble a bit. Rocket Gunner followed up with a series of shots, with Necrom diving out of the way. Necrom returned fire with his Gangun Rod, smirking as he saw his target stumble a bit. Growling, Rocket Gunner rushed forward with a punch, as Necrom copied his action. Their fists collided, splitting the air with a loud crack.

"So where are we going, exactly?" Marisa yawned. She, Haruto, Shotaro and Phillip were all crammed into a rented BMW, Shotaro speeding down the Autobahn at 100 miles an hour. They had arrived in Berlin several days ago, taking a few days to get used to the local customs to blend in better—at least, that's what Shotaro called it. To Marisa, it just felt like sightseeing. Not she was complaining.

"We're checking out a castle in the German countryside," Haruto turned around from the shotgun seat, holding out a map. "We're going here to check for any evidence of link to the Ganma and the Kingdom of the Great Eye."

"So we're actually starting our search, then?"

"We've been searching," Shotaro responded, narrowly avoiding smashing into another vehicle. "Unless you don't want to go to that bratwurst place again."

Marisa shut up.

After another few hours of driving, they finally arrived at their destination—a remote castle in the mountains, overlooking a lake. Shotaro parked the car and the four got out, making their way inside the abandoned stronghold.

"Nice place," Marisa said appreciatively, looking about.

Shotaro coughed. "Dusty, though."

They spread out, examining the ancient building for any sign related to the ghostly invaders. They overturned tables, looked behind moth-eaten curtains, overturned loose stone. They practically turned the whole place inside-out in their search for that elusive symbol.

It was Phillip that broke the silence. "Shotaro, Haruto. Marisa. Over here."

The others quickly made their way to where the younger man was. A loose stone in the flooring had been taken out, revealing a stone with the symbol of the Ganma on it.

"Well done, partner," Shotaro praised. "So . . . what now?"

Phillip pressed the stone, and they heard a click. Behind them a wall slowly ground open, shaking dust off of its centuries of rest.

"Well, shall we check this out?" Phillip asked the present company, and descended into darkness.

"It's the weapons, I tell you," Reimu repeated for the fourth time in an hour. "We can save Takeru. I know it!"

"Reimu, calm down. You're pacing."

"No I'm not," Reimu replied automatically, stopping her pacing. "But don't you see? We can save him!"

Makoto sighed. "I know that, Reimu. But there's nothing we can do right now. Just take a deep breath."

After a few seconds, Reimu blinked. "Huh. That was weird of me."

"Yeah, it was," Makoto responded dryly. "Apologize to me for showing me a sight I never wish to see again—a talkative Reimu."

The shrine maiden rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

A moment of silence. "Well, what now?"

"Work, probably," Makoto answered. "We wait for Onari to burst into the room and say that there's a case."

Onari burst into the room. "Guys! There's a case!"

"See?" Makoto chuckled at Reimu's grumbling.

A host of Ganma were milling about the shopping district, generally causing havoc by breaking windows, smashing cars, and overturning flower decorations. Needless to say that the public populace wasn't quite appreciative of this unseen menace, and they ran about like chickens with their heads cut off.

Reimu dove into the chaos, firing away with her guns, as Makoto smashed into them with his bike.

"C'mon, where's the leader?" she muttered, exchanging her guns for her longsword. She cut great flaming swaths through the crowd, and in a matter of moments the crowd dissipated into black mist.

Sure enough, a portal opened up in the middle of the air, and out stepped Dark Ghost, already transformed.

"Here he comes!" Reimu muttered. Makoto nodded.

Dark Ghost came out swinging, launching dark blades of energy from his axe. The two dodged, and Reimu grabbed Makoto, flying up to the roof of a building.

Dark Ghost came hurtling after them a moment later, axe raised high. Reimu summoned the Ganflame Longbow and fired a shot into him, the spiritual arrow slicing into him.

"This is our chance!" she shouted. "Makoto!"

"Right!" Makoto quickly switched into Houdini and bound Dark Ghost with his chains. Reimu summoned her Longsword again, and, calling Musashi and Goemon, imbued the blade with their power as she scanned it across the Energy Eye Crest.

"Omega Slash: Eastern Night Crossing!"

Imbued with Musashi's bladework and Goemon's speed, the blade flashed through Dark Ghost's midsection. Like before, his stoic mask shattered, and they heard a roar of pain. They got clear, and watched as he fell to the floor, detransformed.

Reimu made to help him up, but Makoto held out a hand. "Careful," he warned. "We don't know if that worked."

She nodded and they waited. Seconds passed, as the Riders remained on-edge for any sign of movement. Reimu lowered her sword.

"You know, wouldn't it hurt to check—"

"URAGH!"

Reimu jumped as Dark Ghost struggled against his bindings, writing around like a dying fish. He looked up, and Reimu froze as she saw an expression of pure hatred upon Takeru's normally docile face. Dark Ghost roared and thrashed, and eventually the binds containing him fractured from their repeated abuse. That was enough, and he shattered his bonds, diving away into a Ganma Eye Crest.

"You saw that, right?" Makoto said as his transformation fell. Reimu nodded, still shocked.

"I . . . I've never seen Takeru like that before," she said, sobered. "I wasn't even sure he was making faces that intense."

"Neither was I," Makoto admitted. "C'mon, detransform and let's head back."

The evening was a heavy one, and the Institute discussed their options.

"You're certain he showed anger," Akari said.

"Yeah," Makoto nodded. "A lot."

Reimu sighed. "It's unfortunate, but all we can do for now is hit him harder and harder and see if anything happens."

Akari looked down. "I'm sorry, Takeru."

"We all are," Makoto assured her. "But we'll save him no matter what the cost. From himself if we have to."

As Makoto and Akari came up with a plan to ensure their next encounter would end in their favor, Reimu retreated to the roof, floating through the rafters to bask in the cool night air.

"What would you guys do?" she muttered, looking at the Eyecons for an answer—any answer. "I don't know your history—your tales. What would you do in my shoes?"

Suddenly something flashed around Reimu, and she found herself standing in a Japanese-style room. She blinked, and before stood several people—a Japanese man in a traditional outfit, a young American man in a brown vest, and an Englishman in a brown tunic with a green cap upon his head.

"Reimu, we've been watching you all this time," the Japanese man said.

Reimu frowned. She was sure she had heard that voice before. " . . . Musashi?"

"Correct," he nodded.

"And Billy the Kid, and Robin Hood," Reimu guessed.

"I'm impressed," Robin Hood said in surprisingly good Japanese. "You don't know anything about us, but you managed to differentiate us anyways."

"That's because Billy is brown, and Robin is green," she said matter-of-factly. The three laughed. " . . . But I think I changed that part."

"Pardon?"

"I didn't care about who you guys were and what you did. I'll be honest—I still don't really care," she admitted. "But if it can help me figure out what to do in the future, I'll gladly put the work into it."

"And we know how much you hate that," Billy deadpanned.

"Hey!"

Musashi nodded. "Reimu, all this time, Takeru has been reaching out to us, trying to understand us. He's looked to our lives for inspiration in order to, in his words, make his 'life burn bright.' To be prepared for what lies ahead, you'll need the help of all the Heroic Spirits." He smiled. "But for now, you'll at least have our help."

The room went white, and Reimu found herself standing atop the roof of the shrine. "Well, how about that?" she smiled.

She floated down through the roof and into the basement. Picking up Takeru's book, she began to read.

A new day dawned. Reimu was asleep, her head in one of Takeru's history books, when the call for help came.

"Master Makoto! Miss Reimu! A paranormal incident!"

Downtown once again, the same shopping district. The place hadn't even started to clean up, yet Dark Ghost was there, firing away with his axe-gun, roaring at the top of his lungs.

"We really did a number, huh?" Reimu muttered, flying alongside Makoto.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Ready?"

"Ready!"

"Henshin!"

The Riders crashed into Dark Ghost, dragging him away from the square and into a back alley. The close quarters gave them the advantage, as they fired away at him preventing him from swinging wildly.

Dark Ghost screamed, and fired a shockwave at the ground. When the dust settled, they saw him bounding away, leaping from rooftop to rooftop.

"Oh no you don't!" Reimu cried, switching to Boost as she flew after him. Makoto followed along in Houdini, mechanical jetpack abuzz. They traveled for a fair distance that way, with Reimu eventually shooting Dark Ghost down into a park.

They landed, keeping their distance. "Remember the plan," Makoto said. She nodded.

"Newton! Omega Drive: Pressure of Responsibility!"

"Tutankhamun! Omega Fang!"

Immediately, the two Riders trapped Dark Ghost in a heavy-gravity pyramid. He stood, paralyzed, only able to scream.

"Let's go!"

The Riders changed to Musashi and Goemon, assaulting their foe with a brutal series of slashes. Then they switched to Robin Hood and Edison, unleashing their projectile barrage. They kept up this merciless assault until Dark Ghost's cries of rage were at a fever pitch.

"Now, Reimu!" Makoto said.

"Takeru!" She grit her teeth. "I'm sorry!"

Boost's flames clad her once more, and she lifted the longsword. With a single thrust, she rammed the blade into through his body.

Dark Ghost's screams turned from enraged to pained. His shriek shattered the Omega Fang and blew away the gravity barrier, as he clawed at the blade sticking through his chest. He flailed wildly for a few seconds, before going still.

"Is it over?" Makoto whispered.

Reimu dared not let go of the sword. She dared to look at the defeated form of Dark Ghost, his broken body impaled upon her saber.

"He shouldn't die," she said aloud—mostly to herself. "I can't die. Ghosts can't die. He should still be fine. Fine—"

A terrible wail shook the park as Dark Ghost suddenly arched his back and screeched. They pressed their hands to their helmet out of reflex, Reimu accidentally letting go of the sword.

"That's not a screech of rage," Makoto realized through gritted teeth. "It's fear! Reimu, that sword is the key!"

"Each time he's been downed by it," she realized with a start, "An emotion was unlocked. The gun's flame helped, but it wasn't enough!"

As Dark Ghost flailed about, Reimu crawled, the sheer pressure of his vocalizations causing a tremendous pressure. She yelled back in defiance, each step a painful jolt up her spine. Finally she was within reach—and as soon as she grabbed the sword's hilt with both hands, the blade's flame flared up, and Dark Ghost's scream became nigh unbearable. She felt herself sliding backwards, losing to Takeru's rage and pain, but she couldn't lose, she couldn't—

—Then Makoto was there, bracing her, and pumping the lever on her Driver, more times than she could count.

"Omega Overdrive!" it screamed towards the heavens. The sword glowed white, and a raging inferno surrounded them all, and Reimu knew no more.

When she came to, she was face-down in the same area. She was still transformed—but her armor was missing in several places, and her mask was halfway on, her helmet having been partial burned away.

Groggily, she sat up. Her whole everything hurt-though the land around her had much worse, the lush park having been burned away to a blackened ash.

Good thing this was empty, she dryly muttered. She checked around her—Makoto was in a similar state, starting to rise himself, and Dark Ghost—

Takeru!

She hobbled over, worry tightening her throat. "Hey! Takeru!" she cried out. Makoto had now managed to get to his feet, and she shook her friend by his shoulders. "Takeru!"

No response. She shook him harder and harder. "Takeru!"

"Reimu . . ." Makoto finally made it here.

Reimu felt something twist inside her, and before she knew it, hot tears were welling up in her eyes. "Huh?" she wiped her eyes and stared. "I'm—I'm crying?"

Makoto just closed his eyes in sadness, tears streaming down his own face, as she sobbed.

"I'm so sorry, Takeru," she whispered. So, this is what true sadness is, then, a perversely stoic part of her mind observed.

Makoto turned away as Reimu continued to hold Takeru. They stayed that way several minutes, until . . .

A beat.

"Takeru!" Reimu nearly dropped him in shock as the Ghost Hunter stirred slightly. Makoto knelt, worry evident on his face, not even bothering to hide the fat tears that streamed out of his eyes.

"Mmh," he groaned. "R . . .eimu? Mako . . . to?"

"Yes," she whispered, "It's us."

"What are you all so worried about?" he chuckled weakly. "I'm a ghost, remember?"

"Oh, shut up," Makoto said gratefully.

Reimu could barely believe it. The sword had worked—the spell was broken. Takeru was back to his seemingly normal self. Things were going to be all right.

"Let's get you home," she said, and, Takeru propped up on their shoulders, Reimu and Makoto began the journey back to the temple—the first time home would be home in a long time.

Necrom and Rocket Gunner's clash took them all across Los Angeles. The two were currently fighting atop a ridiculously tall building—one that Necrom would later learn would be called a skyscraper. The Prince of the Ganma was surprised to find such a formidable foe here, where the influence of the Riders was supposed to be small.

"Osha!" Rocket Gunner grunted as hopped over one of Necrom's green hand-blasts. "Buddy, I can do this all day."

"So can I," Necrom said dryly. "Mortal filth like you, however, will tire eventually. I just need to fight until then."

"You're not looking too sharp yourself," Rocket Gunner grinned behind his mask. He fired a few more shots before ducking behind a air-conditioning vent.

"Your stale tricks will run out eventually," Necrom said, slotting the Grimm Brothers into his Mega Uloader. A Ghost Change later and the Grimms' fighting pens were at his disposal. "Come out!"

Rocket Gunner yelped as the flexible appendages snaked around and jabbed at him from every which way. "Fine," he muttered. "Want me to come out? I can come out." He ejected the Gaia Memory out from his gun's grip and jammed it in the back.

"Maximum Drive!" A mechanical voice echoed.

"What?"

Rocket Gunner stood up, magnum aimed straight at Necrom's chest. "Rocket Assault!"

From the gun's tip a barrage of missiles created from Gaia Memory energy flew towards Necrom. Necrom's pens proved to be a valuable defense, but one got through, knocking the Ganma back. He prepared ready to end this mortal's life with an Omega Drive, when a Ganma aide materialized next to him.

"What is it?" he said cooly.

"Lord Alain," the aide spoke. "Your presence back home is needed."

"For what reason? Anything my brother wants he can come to me," he said. "I'm in the middle of something."

Rocket Gunner, for his part, took the opportunity to duck out of harm's way and find some cover. The magnum would be on cooldown for right now—better play it safe.

"It's the king, my lord," the Ganma hesitated. "Your father."

"What about him?" Alain suddenly felt a chill go down his spine.

"He's . . . dead."

Alain stopped, color fading from his cheeks behind the Pantheon. "I—I see," he swallowed. He nodded. "I will be on my way."

A Ganma Eye Crest opened. Alain stood, untransformed, and made to step in.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Rocket Gunner shouted. "You can't just run!"

"You're not worth my time right now," Alain replied. "But if you so desire, I will return to kill you after I deal with . . . home."

He stepped into the portal, and vanished from sight. A moment passed, and Rocket Gunner's transformation fell.

"Oh man," he muttered. "Shotaro's not gonna like this."