A War of Phantoms

Everyone in the field stopped what they were doing. I raised one hand and pointed at a redheaded guy to my right. "Strip-mall Tae Kwon Do. Looks shiny, but your rack of trophies ain't worth shit in a real fight." I pointed to my left, at a seven foot tall skinhead monster. "Ease off the roids, needle-dick. Gonna die a virgin at the rate you're juicing." Turned to look behind me at a small fireplug of a man with close-cropped black hair. "MMA. You might actually be interesting. I bet you make the boxer guy behind you scream like a bitch, because he's so fucking dumb that he still hasn't figured out why you've never lost a spar -- and you're just as dumb, because you keep picking on the weak targets, rather than actually try to learn anything new." I kept pointing around. "You, white-belt karate. You, high-school wrestling. You, Brazilian Jiu-jitsu, not that you actually pay attention in class. I saw some army training on you, chucklehead. You wash out of basic, or did you get caught trying to fuck your lieutenant's dog?"

One larger guy with the green wolf symbol tattooed on his chest stepped up to me. "You've got a lot of nerve--HUCK!"

I'd just knife-edged him in the throat, and then smashed his face in with a palm strike, dropping him to his knees as he clutched his jaw. "And you've got a lot less teeth now, gumdrop." A few more were moving forward, but one look from me and they all hesitated or stepped back. "I'm WAITING, children! This so-called pack Tim was talking up is just a pile of cute widdle puppy-wuppies who haven't even been house-trained yet! BRING ME A REAL FIGHT, ASSHOLES! If this is the best you got, then no wonder you're all scared dickless by any woman who so much as looks at you!" I felt like a greasy pile of shit -- I did not like being this guy. But we needed to draw out this Trebuchet guy that Takeshi wanted. One man lunged at me from behind, and I calmly side-stepped and hiptossed him into the guy whose teeth I'd broken. "C'mon, you pussies! Show me something real!"

In my ear, I heard three words from Natasha: "We're in position". Perfect. I addressed the crowd again. "I SAID..."

"That's enough." Everyone, myself included, turned to face the new voice.

Stepping out of the farmhouse was a tall figure, over six and a half feet, wearing a billowing cloak and a full-face conical hood and mask made to look like a cross between the grim reaper and a klansman. He carried one of those strange rifles, and his build was long-limbed and lanky.

Takeshi's voice was in my ear again. "I need positive ID. Try to get that mask off him -- but be careful. He's weak by Diamond Throne Armada standards, but that's still godlike compared to humans." Good thing I wasn't a normal human anymore, even out of the armor.

I crossed my arms. "You in charge here? I'm looking for real warriors for the cause, and so far I am not impressed with your so-called pack here."

He dialed a number on his phone. "I am the Alpha Above Alphas, yes. If you wish to face our greatest warrior, I ask you wait briefly. He will be here shortly." He lifted his phone to his ear. "Jaeger? Return to the farm. Your power and expertise is required." He slipped the phone back into his robe. "Patience, warrior. He will be here shortly, and you will be humbled before his might, that you might understand your place in our pack."

Natasha's voice was suddenly loud in my ear. "One of the unlabeled Riders on my map just started moving at high speed towards you! Holy shit, that's fast! Morgan, I'll be right down there!" Talk about shitty timing -- I reached into my pocket for my own phone, just as it blared the 5-mile warning klaxon Natasha had helped me set. No more time to fool around. I hit the transformation app and slapped the phone against my waist -- RIDER ADVENT -- ENGAGED! Once again the world went technicolor, and I heard a chorus of shocked cries around me as I armored up. The light faded and I flexed my gloved fingers, taking note of everyone's position around me. I immediately tapped another icon on my wrist, my belt calling out ESTOC ADVENT, and my sword materialized in my hand. "Lay down your weapons, and no one gets hurt! This is your only warning!"

There's always one idiot. One guy at my ten o'clock lifted his gun, and I lunged. Crossing the dozen yards between us in a near-instant blur, the point of my estoc sheared through the gunner's wrist, all but amputating his hand and forcing him to drop the gun. I spun around behind him and laid the edge against his naked throat. "Anyone else?"

I looked to the hooded leader -- and he took a step back in fear. "Another rider! No, damn your eyes! JAEGER, WHERE ARE YOU?"

Just then, there was a flash in the sky above. A phantom flyer in jet mode zoomed in at high speed, dematerialized in mid-air, and the rider inside -- wearing grey and black armor -- plummeted to the ground, his fall arrested only at the last second by outswept wings of energy that sprouted from his back. He landed with one fist and one knee to the ground and stood up facing me. "I am here, Mein Fuhrer. Phantom Rider Jaeger, reporting. Thank you for delivering unto me another rider, one of my destined prey." His belt icon was an eagle right out of a World War 2 image search, and he had swastikas all over his chest and arms. I wasted no more time and rushed him, sword in hand. His own belt intoned GEWEHR ADVENT, and a rifle with mounted bayonet appeared in his hands with just in time to parry my lunge.

The other members of the Emerald Fang seemed as shocked by Jaeger's arrival as we were, but they immediately understood that he was on their side and starting cheering him on. He fired off a quick beam shot from the hip which grazed my left shoulder, sending sparks flying across the armor plate. It hurt, but nothing too serious. He saluted me as he backed away. "Let us not dispense with formalities. May I have your name? I wish to record your death for my posterity."

"Fuck your formalities and fuck your posterity!" I tapped another icon on my wrist -- STORM ADVENT. I'd only had a chance to test this once, but it was time to give it another go -- this time under real combat conditions. I lunged forward again, and my arms went on auto-pilot, stabbing out repeatedly with my blade at impossible speeds like a storm of machine-gun bullets. Each blow was relatively light, but there were dozens of them, and my wannabe Third Reich opponent couldn't block or dodge them all. I felt plenty of hits strike home, pummeling him and even punching through his armor in places, albeit not especially deep. Still, damage was damage, and I had him on the defensive.

As I laid into him, I couldn't help but remember Morris sitting me down to watch some bizarre cartoon with him a few months back in the hospital, where a guy named Dio used a rapid-fire flurry of punches while shouting MUDA-MUDA-MUDA-MUDA for some reason. I resisted the urge to shout the same in that moment. I can only imagine Morris would've been disappointed if he'd been around to watch. Sorry, bro.

Jaeger was getting desperate as more and more stabs got through his defenses -- and to my shock, he stopped defending entirely as he reached for his own wrist, taking at least a dozen deep hits, and I felt my own strength increase each time my blade struck home. He hit an icon on his screen, and I heard his belt/phone utter FINAL ADVENT: THE FINAL SOLUTION.

Oh shit. That didn't sound good. His rifle swung around towards me, the barrel glowing ominously, and a big sphere of energy formed at the end of his gun. I ended my attack and backed away in a hurry, looking for cover -- but I was out the in the open. I could try to dodge it, and hope that if he did tag me with it that I could survive the hit, since he'd only barely grazed me before.

He lined up his shot, and I watched him carefully to make sure I didn't dodge too soon or too late -- when suddenly Natasha leapt out of nowhere and kicked his arm, disrupting his aim just as he fired. I dodged to my left -- but the beam was wider than I expected, and the edge of his blast burned right through my right side. If Natasha hadn't kicked his arm, he might have cut me in half with that -- but I wasted no time.

"If you want to bring out the big guns, I'll return the favor, asshole." Grimacing in pain under my helmet, I flicked over to the Final Advent icon and hit it, watching him back away as he heard the activation call: FINAL ADVENT: LIFESTEALER. I saw in my rear-view camera that my shoulders sprouted wings of blurred energy, I shot forward faster than the eye could follow, ending right behind Phantom Rider Jaeger -- and thrust my sword behind me, right into his back. I felt the blade's tip punch through armor, flesh, and then out through the front of his chestplate -- and then the sword grew hot in my hands.

If I hadn't experienced this already when Kanzaki restored my missing fingers, I might have dropped the sword in surprise, as this hadn't happened when I'd tested the Final Advent before. Then again, I hadn't tested it on a living target, but on a tall stack of bricks. I heard Jaeger screaming in pain behind me, and the sword's intense heat suddenly flooded through my entire body. I felt the missing pound (or ten) of flesh that Jaeger had shot off my side grow right back, with the armor around it restored for good measure. I staggered forward, pulling the sword out of his back as I went, suddenly hit with a wave of weary vertigo. Kanzaki wasn't kidding -- Final Advents were a double-edged sword. If I'd been on my own at that moment, staggering around like I'd been awake for a full week without rest, someone could've probably picked me off easy with one of those laser rifles lying around. Thankfully, Natasha had my back.

"Would you believe this asshole is still alive?" I turned, and Natasha was standing over Jaeger, who was collapsed on the grass clutching the hole I'd made running him through -- but was indeed still breathing. Natasha tapped her wrist -- her belt called out TALON ADVENT -- and those decorations I'd seen on her armored boots expanded and unfolded into vicious looking curved blades that would've given a velociraptor a bad case of death-dealer envy. With no further ceremony, she brought her clawed boot down onto the fascist's midsection, the talons shredding his advent belt. A small transparent image appeared in front of Jaeger's face -- Kanzaki's face. "Mickey Wachowski, Phantom Rider Jaeger. You have allowed your Advent Phone to be destroyed. As warned, this means your life is immediately forfeit. Goodbye." Mickey's pained eyes went wide as his armor dissolved, and he called out, "Heil H-", his last words cut off as his heart literally exploded out from his chest in a disgusting red gout. His head fell to one side, his eyes glassed over, his mouth full of blood that slowly dribbled out onto the soil.

Natasha and I both dropped a hand to our own belts, where advent phones formed the buckle. Jaeger's big shot could've hit me right on my belt, and that would've been it. For all my superhuman power and "life-stealing" attacks, I suddenly felt very vulnerable and aware of my mortality in a way that reminded me forcibly of my first battlefield, years ago overseas. I suspected Natasha was thinking much the same.

The farmgrounds were eerily quiet. The members of the "Emerald Fang" and their hooded leader stood in shock at the two armored figures who had just dismantled their strongest fighter. I felt some feeling returning to my limbs and took a deep breath, turning towards them. "Second warning, and this time I really mean it when I say you won't get another. Get on your knees and put your hands behind your head. NOW."

One of the fangs at the back of the crowd bolted, making a run for the nearby forest -- but a shot rang out and something hit the runner's back, sending arcs of electricity all across his body. He collapsed, twitching and whimpering in pain. Apparently Takeshi's sniper rifle had some taser rounds or something along those lines. Nice.

The hooded leader started slowly backing away, and I whirled on him, sword pointed right at his face. "Don't even think about it. On the ground before I cut your legs off." This time he complied, and I reached out and ripped the hood off his head. Just as Takeshi said, Trebuchet had blue-tinted skin, and a head of wild purple and yellow hair. "Take a look at your leader, Emerald Fangs. All your talk about racial purity, the Third Reich and all that other white supremacist garbage, and you didn't even know you were being conned by a literal alien from another dimension. Count Trebuchet here was part of the Chicago Incursion a few years back -- isn't that right, Wolfpack Black?"

Takeshi, clad in his armor, flashed me a thumbs up as he walked towards us, sniper rifle slung over his shoulder. "Hello Count. How's the knee?"

Trebuchet swore under his breath, probably something in his native tongue that I didn't catch. He glanced around at his kneeling cultists who were aghast at this revelation and looked up at Takeshi. "Well met, dark wolf. My limb hurts like fetid dung every time it rains on this Throne-forsaken planet, no thanks to your having shot me there years ago." As Takeshi slapped a pair of high-tech handcuffs on him behind his back, he sighed. "You animals took everything from me. My position, my prestige, my home, and even my divinely beautiful wife. I was so disgraced that the Armada left me behind like a forgotten food packet. Can you really blame me for wanting to hurt you all as much as I could before the axe inevitably came down? It's not as if I could build a life for myself beyond this dishonorable insurgency full of idiot children."

I snorted. "And he would've gotten away with it, too -- if not for those meddling Phantom Riders!"

Natasha laughed hard at that one as she patrolled the crowd, making sure no one else got any stupid ideas. "And he even likes Scooby-Doo! I knew I picked the right friends."

Takeshi chuckled and turned back to Trebuchet. "Baroness Naginata's made a nice life for herself here."

"That traitor? Good for her, I hope she chokes on it. Execute me and be done with it, I'm tired of this."

Off in the distance, a small fleet of police cars were arriving. Takeshi playfully ruffled Trebuchet's chaotic hair, "Ohhhh no, you're not getting off that easy. You're going to provide our engineers and archivists with every scrap of technical and cultural knowledge about the Diamond Throne Armada you can possibly remember, and then we'll find some nice benign way you can further repay your debt to our society for everything you've done." A car pulled up right behind Trebuchet, and several people wearing jackets labeled FBI stepped out. "One last question before I leave, Count. How did you get that Rider to work for you?"

"Mickey was already one of my brainless followers for over a year, desperate to prove his virility and relevance by hurting all women around him before they could notice and reject him. Humans are so simple -- you tell them what they want to hear, that their cowardly fears are real and justified, that they're the true heroes who will one day receive their due in women and riches, and they will eat out of your hand like a trained pet."

He continued as the FBI agents pulled him to his feet and searched him, while all around us the cultists were being rounded up by the other arriving police and piled into trucks. "One month ago, Kanzaki approached him to give him some modicum of power, and he leapt at the chance to distinguish himself as the Emerald Fang's 'Champion of the White Race'. The boy was a useful and powerful tool but proved... inadequate in the end. How utterly fitting for the impotent weakling he turned out to be, even by the low standards of your species. I can only hope that for his failures he will be punished in the afterlife, right alongside Wolfpack Green, may he rot and burn for all time for taking my dear Countess from me."

While Takeshi talked official business with the FBI, I walked away and leaned up against the barn to let out a long breath I hadn't realized I was holding. With a shiver, I remembered the last time I'd been in a firefight -- and how once everything quieted down, everyone in our unit just... deflated. It felt good, to be able to get off of high alert and start feeling like a normal human again, no longer in the grip of adrenaline and fight-or-flight brain chemistry. I dismissed my armor, and immediately went into my advent phone to remove every god-awful cosmetic setting on my phantom flyer and riding leathers that made me look like a Third Reich fanboy.

As I was tapping away, Natasha walked up and put her hand on my waist, right below where I'd had a hole blasted through me. "I thought you got shot here? Sorry I was too late to help."

"No, your timing was perfect. I did get hit, but if you hadn't stepped in, he would've zapped me dead center. Instead, he just took a chunk out of my side -- and it seems my Final Advent heals me up somewhat, which is pretty handy." I squeezed her gloved hand with mine. "Thanks for having my back."

"Always, you gorgeous man." She dismissed her own armor, and laid a kiss on my cheek. "I already know you'd do the same for me. We'll get through this together."

"You better believe it." I pulled her into my arms, and we took our time just holding each other, indulging in long kisses along the way. The sun had finally set, and the warm evening wind just felt... perfect. I felt very much alive in that moment, as if everything was serene and calm. Our future held terrors and obstacles both known and mysterious, but at least right here and now, everything was just right. Things just couldn't get any better than this.

Natasha nibbled on my earlobe. "So when we get back to that lovely hotel tonight, to make it up to you for getting shot the way you did -- which would you like to fuck first? My ass, my pussy, or my throat? Then after, I'm thinking Takeshi, you, and myself all hit some unsuspecting bar together, pick up some winsome young lass who has no idea what she's in for, and then all three us fuck her senseless all night long tonight. Sound like fun?"

I stand corrected. It could indeed get better.

THE END