Lost Wisdom
'I want to test the limits of its power,' he had said, taking her by the wrist, forcing her hand open and placing the card within.
There had been no time to think, the force of a blow across her face sending her staggering back, her eyes filling with tears as she lifted her head, as she saw him through her falling hair, standing there, caressing the hand that had wounded her, offended as its contact with her face.
Wasn't this over now, Sarah had wanted to cry; hadn't the war ended? There had been peace for twenty years, Crisis was gone, Imperador Crisis was dead, all of those with Crisisian blood had found a new home on Earth, she had found a new home with—
"Joe," she whispered, folding her hand over the card, crushing it beneath her fingers.
Where was Joe now? Where was she now? The home world once more? The taste of poison in the air, the feel of dirt beneath her feet. A game, he had told her, a battle royale, and she an unwilling participant. Well, whatever, it wasn't as if she didn't know how to fight.
The piece of the Robô Kaima Gangaden she had used to travel between worlds was supposed to have helped her find Joe again, but instead, she had found her face struck, a card pushed into her hand, a dare to challenge his strength.
The weight of the machine demon's severed head swung from a clip on the belt, hitting her thigh every time she moved, a reminder
She straightened up, the crumpled card in one hand, the second buckle she had retrieved from a drop in the petrified forest, the stark branches of trees splintering as she collided with them.
In order to play the game, she had been assigned an ID that had unfolded into a primitive suit of armour not dissimilar from that worn by Crisis's foot soldiers, the Chaps.
A woman with a dark fringe and a tight smile had stood before her, the case held open in her hands, staring beyond her, no doubt at the shape of the man who first had struck her, who had pushed the card into her grasp.
Sarah had not thanked her; she had not said a word to her. Face still burning, she had wrenched the two items from the open case—the ID and the belt, a lump of plastic and metal imbedded in protective foam—and she had run.
Whatever this place was, whatever this game was, it was too much like the home she had failed to save, and no matter how much distance she put between herself and the man who stalked her, or the woman and the now empty case, there was always some new threat around the corner.
Activating the Chap armour, she had found the first case on the shore of a lonely lake alongside another combatant, another contestant in the game. She had made short work of him, his armour similar yet akin somewhat to a snake, a grill over his eyes, a hiss between his teeth, a howling laugh as she had bludgeoned him into unconsciousness with the drop he too had been closing in on.
She wasn't afraid to kill, she had done it many times before, yet standing there on the shore of that dirty lake, the man's body prone in the water, the faceplate cracked and the heavy case she held bloodied, she felt no need to.
Joe wouldn't have killed him, she told herself, and the man who had saved his life, who had spared him when he had been brainwashed by Bruxa Marie Baron—he would not have killed him either.
She left her opponent there, absconding with the case, tearing it open as she had continued to run, finding the first buckle inside, There had been no small amount of serendipity in discovering the buckle had unfolded into additional armour modelled after the man who had saved her lover's life.
There had been others after that, men in similar black Chaps armour, their masks shaped like animals—a bull, a crab, a black dragon, and, always at a distance, a fox—she evaded them with ease, each of them more concerned with scheming against one another than searching for the cases dropped onto the battlefield from above.
She glanced over her shoulder constantly, resentful of the pettiness of the others who haunted this echo of her home. None of them were being followed as she was, they were free to engage in their petty squabbles, to play out their endless games of spite.
When she found the second case in the forest, she had understood the game in which she was competing, the vain goals of the man who trailed her endlessly through that abandoned world.
Holding the crumbled card in her hand, feeling its resistance against her, she had wished she might find some way to communicate with it.
'I don't want to go back to that man.'
The voice rang in her thoughts with such clarity that she jumped, almost letting the card slip from her hands.
'That man is full of malice. I don't want to go back.'
What would Joe have done, she asked herself, looking down at the card, the cartoon portrait of a tiny figure in robes, solemn yellow eyes staring out from the darkness. Joe would have given everything he had to protect the innocent. There was no question in her heart that she should do the same.
"Joe," she said softly again. "Where are you, Joe?"
'You're running away from someone too?' the voice of the card asked her, innocent and childlike.
She shook her head, sniffed back the tears that threatened to come.
"I'm trying to find someone."
A mysterious young man had told them that Joe was in another world fighting evil. How could she reach him, she asked herself over and over; how could she find Joe the Haze again?
She lifted her head, seeing the man who pushed the card into her hand in the distance, the man who had struck her face, had tricked her into this absurd game. Slow step after slow step, his mantle thrown back over one shoulder, he advanced, the sun catching the silver of the ring on his lifted hand.
"I'll protect you," she said firmly.
The words on the card seemed to gleam: X Wizard.
'I'll protect you too.'
In that moment, she knew what she had to do.
With one hand, she flipped the belt at her waist, twisting the buckle already installed from left to right, the additional black armour shifting from her chest to her legs. From the second box, she took the gleaming red buckle and connected it with the belt, the two halves now forming a complete unit.
Slow steps forward, his expression unreadable, unchangeable.
Between her fingers, she turned the card over.
"Lend me your strength, X Wizard," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Music thrilled from the buckle as she slid the card into a narrow opening its design, a shimmer of gentle lights, a mechanical voice crowing from within, 'Oneness Raise Buckle.'
She rose up from where she stood, the armour around her shifting, a robe of purple unfurling from her shoulders, the darkened eyes of her white Chaps mask turning yellow, a breastplate of glittering gold overlaying her chest.
'Together as one!' cried the youthful voice from the card. 'Kamen Rider Black Wizard.'
She moved swiftly, running away no longer, rushing towards her foe, eager to close the distance, to put an end to his haunting, stalking presence forever in pursuit, pulling back and bringing her fist down in what she hoped would be a crushing, devastating blow—and finding herself thrown off course, another man standing between her and her tormentor.
Light danced upon silver.
"Well," her foe said with cool disinterest, "it appears we have an uninvited guest."
There had been only one hour of sunlight a day upon the home world, the Demon World, after Imperador Crisis had ruined the atmosphere, yet now it fell upon the man's silver ring as readily as it did the gleaming black armour of the person who had interposed, the blistering illumination of his glowing blade bolstering the radiance of the sun.
She said his name without thinking.
"Memorial Soldier."
"Go now." He did not even look over his shoulder. "Protect the life that lives within that card, find Joe the Haze once more. I will ensure this man never haunts you again."
His opponent raised an eyebrow.
"Are you sure you can do that?
"Go now!" Memorial Soldier shouted at her, not even bothering to reply to the haunting figure that had stalked across the echo of the dead world.
She turned, her boots kicking up stone and dirt—and then she stopped abruptly, feeling a force pulling at her, dragging the power of her armour from her body.
In her head, she heard X Wizard cry out, she heard the sound of shrill panic, wordless fear, and as she turned her head, she saw the ring of his lifted hand pulsing with light, tearing the card free from the glowing red buckle, pulling it into his grasp, absorbing it into the flesh of his hand.
His features rippled, warped, transfigured into something ugly, the ape of the character on the card, the armour she had worn, flowing purple cloak, silver flesh, a multitude of arms, and a head that burnt like fire, pure radiance ignited.
At her waist, the remainder of Gangaden sparked to life once more, a mercurial wall rising from the scorched sand, the silhouette of someone she knew, someone she recognised beyond.
"Joe," she whispered.
"Go!" Memorial Soldier shouted, his blade flashing behind her, clashing with the flaming metal of his opponent.
She turned for one moment, and despite herself, she reached for the silhouette behind the wall.
Slowly, her hand sunk into the shape of the divide and behind her she left Miracle Soldier and the spirit of the card she had promised to protect.
