A War of Phantoms

Another endorphin rush hit as feelings of strength and power stormed through my entire body, like I'd just won a martial arts tournament or run a marathon without breaking a sweat. My body felt lighter than air, like I could run down a cheetah or leap over a skyscraper. I could do anything, fight anything and anyone, and I had no fear at all. The emotional high was literally sexual in its intensity, and I felt my cock stiffen inside my armor, nestled inside some surprisingly soft and comfortable thick padding that lined my entire armor's interior. I was ready to fight, I was ready to fuck, I was ready to take on the world.

When the initial high cleared a moment later as the phone proclaimed TRANSFORMATION COMPLETE, I could see my reflection in the restaurant window had changed -- I was indeed wearing some sort of hi-tech battle armor shaded emerald green and sapphire blue, with black and chrome accents. The full-cover helmet was vaguely bird-shaped, and I had a feeling that the flared shoulder pads were meant to suggest wings. Kanzaki applauded. "I dub thee 'Phantom Rider Rush', on account of your blinding speed. Truly, you will be a force to be reckoned with."

On the back of my left gauntlet was a large touch screen that had all the app icons the phone did -- plus about a dozen more. "What the hell are all these?"

Kanzaki walked over, his long khaki trenchoat billowing behind him. "You have many new resources through this interface. Summoning weapons, activating your many special abilities -- you can experiment and test these on your own time, but I will draw your attention to two. First, if you flick down from the top of the screen, you'll see the "remove armor" option. Note that your armor only has enough power to run for perhaps an hour at a time. When its energy runs out, your armor's superhuman abilities will be inaccessible and your movements will become very slow and heavy, so you should only transform when the situation actually calls for it. When the armor is removed, it will regenerate its power supply on its own in about fifteen to twenty minutes." He then stepped closer, peering down at my wrist. "Secondly, flick over one screen -- yes, that one."

The screen had only one large icon on it, labeled... "Final Advent? Sounds ominous."

"This is your greatest weapon. Use it with care. Every Phantom Rider has a unique and powerful 'Final Advent' attack that is quite capable of ending a fight and perhaps even slaying your foe -- but with caveats. First, using your Final Advent will cause you considerable fatigue and perhaps even some pain, and at best will take a few minutes to recharge before you can use it again. You'll likely want to wear down your opponent first, both to make sure your Final Advent actually connects, and so you don't leave yourself open to a counterattack afterwards, should you fail to finish them off."

I nodded and hit the flyer icon and the "remove armor" icon, causing both to disappear. "Good to know." I was back to normal in my regular clothes -- but I felt an echo of that intoxicating strength and speed throughout my body. Was I still partially superhuman now, even out of the armor? Something to test out later.

"With that, I must take my leave. Let us return to your table so that I can remove us both from this localized time-shift without startling your brother, and then we can all attend to our own affairs. We both have work to do, after all."

I sat back down at our table inside, and with a gesture from Kanzaki, the world resumed.

The nearby waiter and his once-errant plate of spaghetti stumbled for a moment but stayed upright, looking down in confusion at the plate in his hands. A family across the room cried out in shock as a fluttering pigeon dropped into the middle of their table. Morris blinked and shivered.

Kanzaki reached into his coat and dropped half a dozen bound stacks of cash on the table, along with a debit card. "This should be more than enough to cover today's meal, and your future expenses. Good luck to you both." Without another word, he walked out.

I grabbed the cash and card to put them inside my own jacket, pulling a pair of hundred dollar bills off the top of one stack and dropping them back onto the table. The card had the Plex logo on it -- and my name. "C'mon, Morris. We need to get you to an MRI machine right away."

***

A week passed. My brother's MRI had indeed confirmed that the tumor had been cleanly removed, much to his doctor's shock. I'd debated trying to explain how, but the phrase "A silver-skinned man from another dimension used 'Clarke's Law' levels of technology to teleport the tumor away and now I have to become a hummingbird-themed super-soldier in return" just... didn't seem like the right way to go.

I called the number on the back of the credit card. It was legit -- and it had a balance of one million dollars on it. The stacks of cash had ended up being about sixty thousand dollars, half of which I just handed right over to my brother.

Lying to him was harder, even if it was mostly lies of omission. "Look, Kanzaki said that I have to do some difficult jobs for him in order to get the other half of your cure. Dangerous jobs -- and if I screw up, then he might just ghost us on this. So let's not make any assumptions about the future, okay?"

Much to my shock, Morris took it in stride. "Hey, even if I only get an extra year, that's one more year than I had before, so you won't see me complaining."

I immediately quit my day job at the insurance agency, enjoying the look of confusion on my asshole of a boss's face when walked into the office of his boss, explained all the heinous bullshit my manager had been pulling under people's noses, and provided some incriminating emails I'd been holding onto for a rainy day. I walked out with a spring in my step, a fat severence and "please don't go to the media about this" check in my pocket, and a cardboard box full of my personal items in my hands. Free from the grind at last.

I spent the next few days looking up some of my old military buddies, sparring with them to brush up on my hand-to-hand skills. Unfortunately, my baffled parents kept coming over to the apartment I shared with Morris to "check up on us" and didn't give me a lot of chances to get away and practice the other mysterious powers alluded to on my phone. I did figure out how to summon a stylized 'estoc' sword to my hand, which I found could stab easily through solid stone and steel plate without even so much as chipping. Damn light and fast for a hand-and-a-half sword, too. I also seemed to move faster in the armor. A lot faster. Took a little getting used to, as did my new strength. When wearing the armor, I was able to lift a car like it was nothing. Even out of the armor, I found myself dead-lifting seven hundred pounds at the gym with only minimal effort.

Ten days after my meeting with Kanzaki, my new phone rang for the first time. "Morgan Vigilanco? My name is Takeshi Wakamoto, and I'm with the Plex Corporation. We should talk. Today."

An hour later I found myself sitting on a bench in a public park next to this slick guy in a tailored suit who looked like he just stepped off a Paris fashion runway. I felt like I was in a spy movie. "I'll try to make this quick, Morgan. I've been assigned to your case. Of all the people Kanzaki's recruited this time around, you're one of the ones we'd like to see win. You're fighting to save a life, not just to line your own pockets or to hurt someone."

"Jesus. What kind of people am I up against?"

He opened a folder and pulled out a photo. "We're still gathering information, but we think this guy will be one of your biggest problems. Heath Frankel, age twenty-two, a bonafide serial killer. He's been a suspect in several murder cases, but he's always managed to slip the noose, and the FBI thinks he's probably got a double-digit kill count already. Kid's strong, smart, talented, and a total sociopath. Kanzaki gave him the Owl phone, designated "Phantom Rider Stealth" -- and he's already killed one other Rider. A lady named Vasquez in St. Louis who wanted to use her 'wish' to create a mass-produced vaccine and cure for HIV. Had the Peregrine advent phone, "Phantom Rider Dive". Frankel gutted her before she even knew she was under attack."

"So what's Frankel's wish?"

Takeshi put the folder back into his briefcase. "Probably what a lot of serial killers want -- to be able to keep on killing whenever they want, without consequence. That's if we're lucky. If he's got something nastier in mind, then all the more reason to make sure he doesn't win."

"So am I at risk of jail time if I do kill any of these other riders?"

"No, you're immune to any charges pertaining to attacking or killing other Riders. That doesn't extend to civilians, though. We'll help out with any property damage that might happen during your fights, but try not to burn down an entire city down or anything, please."

I looked this Wakamoto guy over. Navy blue suit, carefully designed to look good but also give him freedom of movement. I could tell he had a pistol holstered under that jacket, and its presence didn't make him nervous or prideful. He was in top shape, and his eyes were taking in every detail of what was around us. The only thing that seemed out of place was the oversized watch on his left wrist. Not fancy enough to be man-jewelry, and it didn't look like any smartwatch I'd ever seen at tech stores. "So why doesn't Plex send agents like you to take him out? I'd bet good money you're a combat veteran. Where'd you serve?"

He favored me with a lopsided grin. "I'm not armed forces, but I was part of Strike Force Wolfpack, fighting off the Chicago Incursion a few years back."

"Oh yeah. Saw a few of those broadcasts. Thought you looked familiar."

"I was Wolfpack Black, the team's sniper -- but I'm not allowed to go after any of the Riders, including you, unless they come at me first."

"So the government's just going to let a dozen people kill themselves for some TV show airing in another dimension?"

Agent Wakamoto shrugged. "It's ugly, but necessary. If we interfere with Kanzaki's little 'rider war' entertainment, then his Dimension calls off the trade treaty we've got going, and we're saving millions of lives each year with the tech and resources they're dribbling out to us right now. Even worse, if we break the treaty, their entire dimension comes at us with guns blazing. We really, really don't want that to happen, because quite frankly they would walk right over us. I've been to Kanzaki's homeworld, seen what they have first-hand. They make the Chicago Incursion's 'Diamond Throne Armada' look like a pile of half-broken action figures, and the Armada came inches away from conquering us. Thankfully, our new friends have no interest in conquest, so part of my job is to keep Kanzaki happy and chill. That means I'm allowed to advise you and even help you to find Frankel and other psychotics like him, but if another Rider has his hands around your throat, I have to ignore it and walk away." He shrugged again. "Remnants, on the other hand, are an entirely different matter. We'll be working together to blast those assholes every chance we can find. Have gun, will travel." He reached into his briefcase and pulled out another folder. "And on that note, we have our first remnant target. Pack your bag, we're leaving in one hour for Galena, Illinois."

***

Turns out that the helmet and riding leathers that came with my new ride were connected to my new phone. As I blasted down I-43 from Milwaukee to Galena on my phantom flyer at ninety miles an hour (handled like a dream), Takeshi was tailing me in a white van that looked plain as yogurt, but was keeping up with me just fine, filling my ears with mission details.

"There's a group hiding in Galena calling themselves the 'Emerald Fang'. Bottom line, they're domestic terrorists, a bunch of alt-right incel idiots gone feral, like Fight Club but with laser rifles to back up their misogyny."

I glanced in my rearview mirror. "So call the FBI on their punk asses. And why aren't we getting pulled over for speeding?"

"I logged our route with authorities, and cops around here are very familiar with Phantom Rider protocol. They won't get in our way. To answer your first question, it's because their version of 'Tyler Durden' is a Remnant, an Incursion Elite named Count Trebuchet. He went underground and is gathering followers like a cult leader, doling out other-dimensional tech weapons to make his boys feel all manly and strong. FBI can't defend against that kind of hardware, since regular cops and soldiers don't have an infusion of Dimensional Flux energy the way Strikers like me and Riders like you do, so it's our problem. MY problem specifically, and you're going to help."

I heard that cool serenity crack for a second there in his voice. "What makes this one personal?"

"Count Trebuchet was a bottom-feeding scumfucker during the Chicago Incursion. MY incursion. His wife, the Countess Trebuchet, damn near flattened the city at one point. That is, until D.J. Carter, 'Wolfpack Green', stepped in to reinforce us at a key moment and saved everyone. Carter's first mission, and it went right to his head. The Count's been fixated on D.J. ever since, a weird sort of hate mixed with admiration thing. Hence the 'Emerald Fang' bit, since D.J. was Wolfpack Green."

"This is sounding familiar. Didn't Carter go crazy after that incursion, shoot up a school, and then get killed by his own teammate, Wolfpack Red?"

A long sigh on the other end. "Yeah. For the record, if I hear you say one bad thing about Red, my friend Harrison, then you and I will have a very large problem."

"Hey, there's no problem, we're cool." If there was one thing I knew from my time in the service is that you did not mess with snipers. They can get cold-blooded and do not play around. "Red made the right call, from what I saw on the news, even if a lot of people gave him shit for it. Carter was a psycho."

Wakamoto exhaled into his phone. "Unfortunately, he was a psycho who some assholes found inspiring even after his death, a fucked-up symbol of a 'real man' who 'refused to be feminized' or some other drivel. Trebuchet's using that kind of talk to radicalize people into joining his cult, and the Emerald Fang's message board dropped hints that they might be ready to move on local businesses that, in their words, 'turn real men into soyboy cucks'. Such fatuous bullshit."

I snorted. "Yeah, I knew some guys like that in the service. So terrified that they weren't masculine enough that they had to tear down anyone and anything that might even hint at revealing how pathetic they really were. What's our move?"

"We get into town, check into our hotel room, rest up, and tomorrow we look around a little and bust heads."

I laughed. "Getting our room, singular? Why Mister Wakamoto, how romantic of you."

He laughed back. "Dude, don't flatter yourself. The only decent hotel in town is full, we were lucky to get the one room at all. Besides, you aren't even close to my type."

"I'll bite. What is your type?"

He went silent for a minute. "Apparently I have a thing for stacked blondes who are utterly out of reach. One more reason to hit the road for awhile."

I gave an appreciative whistle. "There's just something about blondes, no two ways about it. My dad gave me a framed copy of that famous Farrah Fawcett poster when I turned sixteen, called it a family heirloom. Kind of a formative moment, that. But who says they're out of reach? C'mon, you're a handsome guy, you look good in a stylish suit, you carry yourself well. Strike a pose at the bar, raise an eyebrow, and watch the ladies fall over themselves to catch your eye. I bet you could have any blonde you want."

"The one I want is married, and she chose the right guy. I'd just be in the way."

"Ouch. Sorry, man. Didn't mean to bring up a sore subject."

"You had no way of knowing, it's fine."

"So... can you tell me anything about all these Rider powers I've got now?"

"Sorry. That falls under 'undue aid', I have to let you figure those out on your own. Another Kanzaki rule."

Figures. "Worth a try. All I know how to do so far is summon an estoc sword. I also took some time to get used to how to move smoothly with my new enhanced strength and speed. The sword's really good for stabbing -- keeping with my hummingbird theme, I guess, since they have that thin stabby beak. Haven't had a chance to experiment yet with much of the other stuff in my icon menu, except for the Final Advent and one other attack move."

"Well, you'll either figure it out, or you'll get killed. Hopefully the former. I can say this, though." Takeshi paused, and seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "I get the impression that the Riders who are successful are the ones who really investigate what they can do. That advent phone is a complex tool, with a lot of hidden functionality. Try new things out, explore menus, look for different ways things can be used together. If you keep on using the same two or three apps or powers or whatever, you'll probably get mulched in short order by someone who's figured out the advanced techniques."

"Yeah, I hear you. RTFM -- Read The Fucking Manual. But I didn't get a manual."

Takeshi paused again before responding. "Who says you didn't?"

I thought about that as we navigated the next smattering of traffic. Maybe I was thinking too literally. Yeah, Kanzaki didn't hand me a paper booklet -- but maybe there were instructional files somewhere on this phone? It had a mini-USB port, maybe I could plug it into my laptop, go browsing through the hard drive or whatever this weird tech used for memory storage. One more thing to investigate.

What I didn't know at the time was that it was about then that we picked up a tail -- another black "phantom flyer" motorcycle just like mine, but recolored to have vivid blue accents. Five miles behind us, it pulled onto the highway, and shot down the road like a rocket until it got within a mile of us, and then slowed down to keep pace, never getting within sight.

***

We arrived in Galena in the late afternoon, just as the sun was starting to descend. It's a cute place, a small town mostly built around one main street that is absolutely packed with little stores and restaurants. Go further out, and there's a wealth of parks and historical landmarks around. My family had come here once on a vacation when Morris and I were still kids. Lots of people wandered up and down the main road, shopping bags in one hand, smartphones in the other. As Takeshi pulled into the hotel's secluded rear lot to park his van, I glanced around to make sure no one was looking my way and dismissed my motorcycle back to whatever other-dimensional space it came from. Handy feature, that.

Takeshi pulled his rolling suitcase and mine from the van's open back and slung a very long bag over his shoulder that I suspect contained his sniper rifle. "I read online that there's a place next to the hotel where you can get really amazing root beer floats, so I figured that might be nice to hit before we... oh shit." He was looking past me, and I spun to look.

Standing up from a Phantom Flyer that had just pulled into the hotel parking lot was a woman in a leather bodysuit. The motorcycle, the leather, and her helmet were all jet black with bright blue accents -- and that tight leather was very, very flattering. A body that action movie actresses would murder for, with broad shoulders, muscles that the leather couldn't hide, and a pair of large and firm breasts that would make a porn star grind their teeth with envy. She pulled off her helmet and shook out a long mane of thick blonde hair. Behind me I heard Takeshi swear under his breath. "Jumping Jesus on a pogo-stick."