A War of Phantoms

As is my usual, a few disclaimers before we start. While this story takes place in the same setting as my other stories “A Tournament of Colors” and “A Wolfpack’s Epilogue”, you do not need to read those in order to enjoy or understand this one. All characters involved in any romantic or sexual activity in this story are consenting adults over 18 years of age. There are scenes of violent combat in this story, but the violence is not in any way connected to any of the sex scenes.

The characters and concepts in this story are my creation, any resemblance to real people and locations is unintended and coincidental. However, the referenced locale of Galena, Illinois is a very real town, and a lovely place to visit — as is the very real “Root Beer Revelry”, a wonderful business there that I heartily suggest giving your time and attention to if you’re ever in the area. The root beer and root beer floats they serve there really are that damn good. The owner of that store knows nothing about this story, they didn’t ask me to plug Root Beer Revelry, I’m just including it as a fun side detail for one brief and minor scene because I have fond memories of the place from a few years back.

Without any further ado, on with the show!

A War of Phantoms

By MisterWildCard

It was the strangest conversation I’d ever had — and I’ve had some odd ones, don’t even get me started down that road just yet. Between some rather interesting ex-girlfriends, my time in the U.S. Army Rangers… but I digress.

The figure across the table gave my brother and I a smile. His skin seemed to have an odd silver color to it, almost metallic, but I chalked it up at first to the restaurant’s lighting. “I am offering you a chance to earn that which you both most desire.”

I stared at him, and my brother Morris snorted before he replied. “The only thing I want is to survive. My oncologist says I’ve got six months, tops. The only reason I’m here at all is because you promised us a free lunch at my favorite restaurant, and claimed you had something that could help. So unless you’ve got a bag of miracles handy, you’re wasting your time, Mister Kanzaki. And mine, and time’s kind of precious to me right now.”

“Time and a miracle are exactly what I can offer. I can remove your inoperable brain tumor, Morris Vigilanco. I can give you your life back.”

I put my right hand on my brother’s shoulder. “Mister Kanzaki, do you not understand what ‘inoperable’ means? There’s no way to get it out.” I clenched my damaged left hand, concentrating on not letting my rising anger get the better of me, keeping my voice at a low whisper so I didn’t make a scene. No sense in ruining the meal of anyone around us. “It’s in there so damn deep that even if the surgery didn’t kill him outright, they’d have to cut out so much brain matter to reach it that he’d be a drooling vegetable. If he’s lucky. Our family is out of options and out of time, what don’t you understand?”

“Your brother is out of neither, Sergeant Morgan Vigilanco. Allow me to demonstrate.” Our host’s eyes suddenly blazed with gold light — and everything around us stopped.

Morris and I looked around the Milwaukee restaurant. All around us, time and motion were halted, and it was eerily silent. Fifteen feet to my right, a waiter in mid-trip hung in the air, his mouth open wide with horror as a plate of loose spaghetti hovered just outside his grasp, the mass of noodles looking like some blood-soaked tentacled horror, launching itself at fresh prey.

Kanzaki folded his hands in front of him. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re aware of the dimensional incursions your world suffers on a regular basis?”

The silent world around us was seriously creeping me out, and I leaned back in my chair. “Yeah. The Plex corporation has those ‘Strike Force’ teams all over the place to repel the invaders before too many come through and try to ‘conquer the planet’ or some stupid shit.”

Morris nodded. “My friends and I used to dress up as Strike Force Olympus when we were kids.”

“My home dimension harbors no such interest. We find your world far too interesting and would much rather observe it from afar than take direct involvement, much less anything so crass as military conquest. Thus we have come to… let us say… an arrangement with your world, and with our Plex friends.”

“And my brother dying of brain cancer fits into this how, exactly?” I watched as Morris reached out and gently touched the arm of the guy sitting at the next table over. The frozen stranger’s arm moved slightly, but he otherwise didn’t react. After a moment’s thought, Morris grabbed the midair plate and a fork, pushed the hovering spaghetti back onto it in a relatively neat pile, and then pulled the mid-fall waiter to his feet, putting the plate in the man’s open hands. Satisfied with his work, my little brother sat back down next to me, but then stood up again and turned the waiter’s fedora hat around to face backwards, just for a harmless giggle.

What did he do to deserve cancer? I mean, no one deserves that kind of hell, but when I’d watch Morris go out of his way to help people like that, it just really hit home that the good people in this world really never get what they deserve. Morris deserved everything, and he was going to be cut down before his life could even really begin in earnest. He was only twenty-three, for God’s sake. Not that I believed in God anymore.

Kanzaki gestured around him as Morris was helping the waiter. “My people and I can alter reality in small but significant ways. Our technology is far, far beyond yours. This localized time manipulation is but one example.” He pointed at a light fixture, and it suddenly transformed into a pigeon, which flapped once in confusion and then halted like everything else around us.

“I’m in a position to grant people from your world anything they might desire. Such as the permanent removal of your brother’s disease. In fact, I will offer the two of you a ‘down payment’ right now.” Kanzaki reached out with lightning speed and touched my brother’s forehead before either of us could react. With a flash of light, there was a small mound of blood and flesh sitting in my brother’s empty water glass.

Morris shook as if suddenly dizzy and grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself. I took hold of my brother’s shoulders, staring daggers at Kanzaki. “What did you do to him?”

Morris looked down at the grotesque horror in his glass, his eyes regaining focus, “Is that…?”

“Your malignant tumor, yes. Safely and cleanly excised from the inside of your skull, with no harm to the surrounding brain matter.”

My brother turned to me. “I… I think he really did it! I feel normal again! It doesn’t hurt anymore! Oh my god! I have to get to Doctor Korby right now!” He stood up — and suddenly froze just like everyone else in the restaurant.

Kanzaki turned to face me again. “Now, your brother might find this next part upsetting, so for the moment we’ll just continue our conversation without him. But I’d think this helps to prove our sincerity as well as our capabilities. Do I have your attention, Morgan?”

I looked up at my brother, his eyes wide and shining, smiling — really smiling, not putting on a brittle show for friends and family — for the first time in months. I’d do anything to protect that smile. Anything. I turned back to our mysterious host. “I’m listening — and I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. If that’s the ‘down payment’, what comes next?”

“Sergeant, you are a lethal combatant, a skillset we value quite highly. I am giving you a chance to fight for your brother’s survival. If you are, as the saying goes, the ‘last one standing’ in a coming conflict, then we will give you anything you desire. While I’ve removed his tumor for now. it will grow back within a year, as such tumors are inclined to do. If you enter and win my competition, then I will remove the disease from his genetic code entirely, allowing him to live a long and healthy normal life.”

I held up my left hand. “While I appreciate the compliment, I was honorably discharged for a reason.” I waggled my thumb and my index finger, the only digits remaining on that hand. “Does the phrase ‘IED’ mean anything to you? Shrapnel sliced off three of my fingers a couple years back. Can’t properly grip a weapon. Kind of a problem if you want me to be fighting.”

The silver man snorted. “Considering what you’ve seen me demonstrate so far, did you really think I wasn’t aware of this, or didn’t have a solution?” His hand snapped out at lightning speed, but this time I saw it coming and caught his wrist with my good hand. “What are you doing, Kanzaki?” His skin was cool to the touch.

“Your speed and reflexes are indeed impressive, most humans shouldn’t be able to do that. Your files don’t give you enough credit. But do release me — I am applying a treatment to your fingers. Another ‘down payment’, much as I helped your brother.”

I let go, and he tapped his finger against the back of my left hand. I felt the pinch of a needle — and suddenly my hand felt like it was on fire. I watched in shock as the three stumps glowed red and burst forward into new fingers in a matter of seconds. It was the weirdest feeling — all the more because it didn’t hurt at all. I felt intense heat — but it didn’t actually hurt even though it seemed like it should, if that makes sense. A moment later, even the heat faded away, leaving me with a functional left hand again.

As I flexed and waggled my restored digits, Kanzaki reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a smartphone inside a black protective case. There was a symbol on the back of the case that I didn’t recognize — some kind of bird, maybe? He set it on the table between us. “If you accept this, you will have two tasks to occupy your future. The first will be as the newest member of Plex’s ‘Phantom Rider’ corps. I will give you means of transportation and combat. You will be deployed by agents of Plex to various parts of this continent to track down and destroy remnants of previous incursions. Other-dimensional soldiers and creatures bred for war, that sort of gauche thing. There may even be times when you are called to join forces with the aforementioned Strike Forces, although I understand that Plex prefers to keep the Phantom Riders out of the public eye.”

I looked down at the box but didn’t touch it. “And the second task?”

“You will be fighting for your survival against other Phantom Riders. Twelve Riders in total will be recruited this year. You are the ninth, and I have several other stops to make after this. All of them, like you, have an otherwise-unattainable goal to fight for. As they go about their remnant-hunting duties and other personal affairs, they will be searching for each other — and for you. And they will try to kill you. As I noted before, only the last one standing by this time next year will earn their reward. In your case, if you are the final survivor, then your brother will live, free of disease and pain. If you fall in battle against another Rider, or against one of the incursion remnants, then your brother will die within the year as nature retakes its course.”

“Kill or be killed.”

“Yes. You must fight in order to survive, Morgan. We will be watching you and the other Riders constantly. If you attempt to abandon this situation, renounce your new powers, renounce this latest iteration of our annual ‘Rider War’ — then you will die by my hand, and your brother will be killed by his returning inoperable tumor. But if you fight and win, you will live, you will receive what to your people would be a true miracle, and we will trouble you no further as you return to whatever normal life you wish to pursue.”

I stared at the strange phone. “And if I refuse to be recruited?”

“Then I will find a replacement elsewhere, someone equally desperate, equally interesting, but more amenable to potential solutions. And sadly, Morris will die within the year.” He tapped the rim of the glass containing the old tumor, and the diseased flesh and glass suddenly burst into blue flame before dissolving into grey ash on the pristine white tablecloth.

“Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. Not much of a choice, Kanzaki.”

The silver-skinned mystery man gave another mirthless smile. “I think we’re being quite generous, Morgan. As a Phantom Rider, you and your brother at least have a chance. Before tonight, his death was one hundred percent certain. Also, you have your left hand back.”

The bastard had a point. I reached out — but my hand paused just above the device. “Why are you doing this? If all this is so easy for you, you could just cure cancer and regrow amputated limbs for everyone on the planet, right? Doesn’t seem very nice.”

The smile fell away. “I have never once claimed to be ‘nice’, Morgan. We are doing this because the moment your hand touches that Advent Phone, you will become our entertainment. My people do enjoy the drama of your world, the conflicts and desperate lengths that humans will go to, to get what they want. Your struggles, and those of your fellow Phantom Riders, will be seen by countless beings back home, all endlessly fascinated by how you choose to go about all this. Will you form tenuous alliances with other Riders? Will you overcome by brute force, clever strategies, deceit, or some other methods? How will you adapt to your newfound abilities and weapons? What heartbreak and triumph will you feel deep in your heart as you fight for your life? All of this and more is exquisite to my people. Your life will become art, Morgan. We will shed tears at your suffering, and cheer for your victories. Our children will venerate you as a dashing hero or a cruel villain, depending on your actions.”

He gestured to the ‘Advent Phone’. “Every year, we devise a new theme to the powers that we grant, to keep things novel for our audience. This year, all Phantom Riders’ powers are fashioned after the facts and folklore surrounding various species of birds from your world. Last year’s theme was Ninjas, the year before that, video games, and then before that we used the iconography of the entertainment your people call ‘The Circus.’ That one didn’t go over as well, the ‘Clown’ archetype caused a great deal of distress and confusion among our children, but they can’t all be award-winners.” He turned the box sideways, so that I could now see the symbol more clearly. “Your powerset will be that of the Hummingbird.”

I barked out a laugh. “Small, weak, and constantly drinking from flowers? Is this some sort of handicap?”

“Hummingbirds are much more than they seem, Sergeant. They are faster than the eye can follow, and capable of feats of aerial agility that none can match, among other things. If anything, I believe you are quite lucky to have access to these powers, and that they complement your speed and reflexes quite well. If I were permitted to place wagers, I would put sizable money on you to be one of the final three of this year’s story, and possibly the eventual victor. You have all the tools you need for success.” Kanzaki sat back, and this time his smile seemed to have a little warmth to it. “So. The time has come to choose. Shall you take up the mantle of a Phantom Rider? Or shall you watch your brother die a slow and wasting death, drugged into oblivion and to no avail as your world’s primitive medicine flails against the inevitable?”

This time I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed the phone, clutching my brother’s new lifeline in my white-knuckled hand.

Kanzaki sighed happily and gestured for me to follow as he stood up. “Before you rejoin your world’s normal flow of time, come with me outside. I will give you some brief instruction, and then you can take your brother to his doctor, who will no doubt make many amusing noises of confusion.”

The street outside the restaurant was just as still and silent as everywhere else, but Kanzaki paid no mind to it. “First, a small formality.” He gestured at the phone in my hand, and I felt a sharp sting in my palm. I turned the device over, and a small needle on the phone’s underside was withdrawing back inside the case, stained with my blood. “That advent phone is now connected to your unique genetic code. No one else will be able to use it in any way. Note that while it is very, very durable and never needs to be turned off or recharged, it is not impervious to harm. Should it be destroyed, your life is immediately forfeit. If you do end up being the final survivor and victor, you will be permitted to keep or destroy it as you see fit with no further penalty.”

As he said this, the screen booted up to show the stylized hummingbird icon that was on the back of the phone’s case. This faded and was replaced by a fairly standard-looking smartphone screen — except that there were already a few apps present. A phone icon, a texting app, one for the Plex corporation, something that looked like a GPS map, one that had a picture of a motorcycle on it, and another that had that hummingbird symbol on it. “A motorcycle app?”

“As I said, you will be furnished with transportation. Activate it.”

I tapped the screen, and my phone intoned in a deep voice, FLYER ADVENT. On the street right in front of me, a sleek motorcycle appeared out of thin air, as if someone from a Star Trek show had just “beamed” it down to me. Unlike most motorcycles, it was a recumbent design, where I would sit down and lean back against the seat, feet forward rather than straddling the bike. There was a sleek helmet resting on the seat cushion, along with a pair of boots and a padded leather bodysuit. The bike and the clothes were all black and chrome, but otherwise this vehicle was a dead ringer for a certain famous fictional motorcycle. “Is the movie AKIRA really popular back where you come from?”

Kanzaki raised an eyebrow, clearly not catching the reference. “This design makes the flight mode much safer overall. It can be used as a standard motorcycle, but at your command the compartment can enclose you and extend wings to become a small aircraft with enough fuel to fly, much like a bird, for several hours. We do so enjoy keeping to a design theme. When not in use, or if damaged, you can dismiss the Phantom Flyer back to its dimensional storage. It can be recalled again later, with all damage repaired and fuel restored. You can even use the app’s settings to change its color and other cosmetic details, if you like.”

He gestured to my waist. “Tap the hummingbird icon, and then place the phone’s screen against your body below your navel.” I did, and this time the phone’s voice said something different: RIDER ADVENT — ENGAGED. Straps sprouted from the phone’s sides and wrapped around my waist to become a belt with the phone as a buckle, and the belt suddenly emitted a bright white light.

I was standing in a chaotic storm of color. Pieces of futuristic armor materialized around me and clamped onto my body, squeezing tight as they molded themselves to my shape. As each limb was enclosed, I could feel a current of energy surging through my body, an endorphin rush that escalated as more of me disappeared under the armor. My hands flexed inside their new gloves, feeling impossibly strong, like I might be able to crush stone into powder with my grip.

As more armor plates slammed into my torso and back to fuse together into a tight breastplate, my breath gasped out of me, but the new air I breathed in somehow felt as invigorating as a starved man eating food for the first time in weeks. Lastly, a helmet clamped around my head, surrounding me in darkness for a moment before my field of vision lit up to show an array of status readings and gauges off to the sides while showing everything around me in insanely sharp clarity. There was even a little “picture in picture” window in one corner labeled “rear view”, showing Kanzaki standing behind me and nodding his head in satisfaction.
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.”
There’s something about blondes, alright. This one dropped her helmet onto her seat and dismissed the bike with a tap to her phone screen, her shining blue eyes never leaving mine. Tall, powerful, thick in all the best ways, and now I was near-hypnotized by a face that a renaissance artist would have tearfully begged to sculpt. The girls she went to high school with must have hated her guts, just for existing.

She held up her hands — one empty, the other holding her own advent phone. The symbol on the back reminded me of a flightless bird I’d seen in a nature documentary years ago – a Cassowary. That program had called them “the world’s most dangerous bird” on account of their powerful legs and vicious talons. Cassowary versus Hummingbird did not sound like a good matchup.

She opened her full lips and spoke. “Believe it or not, I come in peace.” Her husky Australian accent sent a hot shiver right down to my toes. How does so much sex appeal fit it into one woman’s body? “Kanzaki gave me the nickname ‘Phantom Rider Crush’, but you, Mister Handsome, can call me Natasha. Care for a friendly tussle?”

“Morgan, Phantom Rider Swift.” I held up my own phone, one finger poised over the screen. “Right here and now?”

“Why not? It’s a lovely day, there’s no one around, and I’m in the mood to work up a sweat.” She glanced behind me, and I heard a strange sound from Takeshi’s direction — a cross between a howling wind and a power generator being activated. “Wasn’t expecting this. Who’s your friend?”

“I’m Takeshi Wakamoto, Wolfpack Black.” I turned, and Takeshi was now wearing a black suit of wolf-themed armor and raising a very dangerous-looking rifle to his shoulder as he backed away. “Be advised: I won’t interfere between you two, but if you come at me or attack any civilians, I am fully authorized — and able — to take you out.”

I turned back, and Natasha nodded with an appreciative smile. “Another handsome man, armed with a handsome gun. A very lovely day indeed. Come along, Morgan — dance with me.” She tapped her phone, held it to her waist, and I watched her transform. Her armor wasn’t exactly like mine. It didn’t have the wing-like shoulders, instead adding a large white crest along the top of her head that looked too solid to just be decoration – yeah, definitely a cassowary. Like her motorcycle, her color scheme was black with bright blue, although her neck had a splash of jewel-tone red. She immediately went into a ready position, one leg raised — and I saw her boots had little extra decorations that suggested talons. I had a bad feeling that one of her abilities was to make those talons quite real.

I activated my own transformation, trying not to let the endorphin thrill of it distract me from my opponent. I raised one hand high and kept one low, watching her raised leg but not letting myself focus on it in case it was a feint. She’d asked for this fight, so I waited to see what she had in mind.

It wasn’t a feint. She came in hard leading with that right leg, snapping out a rapid-fire flurry of snap kicks. I stepped back just out of reach, but then she spun around and used that momentum to advance further, pressing the attack with a new flurry from her left. On her left leg’s fifth snap kick, I pushed her ankle wide so that her back was to me — but as I lunged in with everything focused right down the line of my body for a punch my Wing Chun Sifu would’ve been proud of, she blocked my fist with a backwards thrust from her right elbow and then spun around to face me again, her left hand making a sweeping underhook strike aiming right for my chin. I caught her wrist in my hand and pulled her in for a knee to the gut — but just as my knee hit, her right came around and would’ve rung my bell if I hadn’t spotted it and quickly backed away.

As I retreated, I added things up. This wasn’t good. I was faster — but not overwhelmingly so. On the other hand, she had power in those strikes I could only dream of. If I hadn’t been wearing gauntlets, her elbow would’ve shattered every finger in my hand. On top of that — “Those kicks — Is that Choy Li Fut you’re using?” We watched each other, her raised foot twitching like a cobra.

She grinned, shifting position as she observed my own stance. “You know your combat arts, very nice. That is indeed what I’m trained in.”

Not good, NOT good. Not only was the style visually impressive — just watch the final duel between Ken Lo and Jackie Chan in DRUNKEN MASTER 2 for evidence of that — but Bruce Lee once famously said that Choy Li Fut was one of the hardest styles of kung fu to fight against, and the only one able to go toe-to-toe with Muay Thai kickboxers. I had to change the tempo of this fight if I wanted to survive. Survive? Wait a second…

She snapped out another quick kick to gauge distance, like a boxer using a jab. “I’d like to think I learned well from Sifu Leung back in San Francisco. I can see you’re using Wing Chun — but your stance seems different. You’ve got some other tricks in your back pocket, I expect.” She lunged in again, switching feet constantly with no pattern or rhythm — two kicks from the right, three from the left, then low, then high, then high again… I was keeping up with parries and dodges, but it was close.

Her approach kept nagging at me. Phantom Riders were supposedly all about killing each other — but this didn’t feel like a duel to the death. It felt like a training match, like we were sparring.

Regardless, it was time to change things up and take control of the pace of this fight. I moved in closer, weaving around those kicks, and only my new superhuman speed let me get inside her reach. I went for a take down, my hips against hers — and goddamnit, she reversed it in mid-air somehow, spinning me around so I landed flat on my back instead. We rolled around for a moment as I tried to re-establish a control hold, locked in a tight embrace and jockeying for position until she managed to fling herself away and launch herself back up to her feet before I could respond. She stood over me and landed a hard punch to my gut that I felt even through my armor, but then backed away and went back into a ready position. If she wanted me dead, she had plenty of opportunities just then to press her advantage — but she didn’t take any of them. Very interesting. She also didn’t want to get tangled into a ground fight, but was clearly trained on how to deal with ground fighting. Very, very interesting. She was expecting me to try and take her down again and then punish me for the attempt — so it was time to go in a completely different direction.

I got up to one knee — but instead of standing, I dashed forward and used my momentum to somersault forward into a handstand and started my own barrage of kicks. I did indeed have other tricks in my back pocket, and Capoeira’s unusual angle of attack was just one of them. Two kicks struck gold on her arm and shoulder, and I immediately flipped to one side and snapped a high kick to that same shoulder as I started my ‘ginga’ — a flowing ready position for Capoeira that was a continuous dance motion. As she lifted her left foot for another one of those dazzling kick flurries, I went low and swept her right foot. As she crashed down, I immediately flipped forward into a heavy downward heel kick that hit the pavement less than two millimeters from her ear. I could’ve come right down on the center of her forehead with it — but I chose not to.

I rolled away and back into a standing ginga, watching her reaction. As my body flowed through well-remembered rhythm, I remembered fondly Mestre Santos barking out instruction to the class as she played on her berimbau, the music informing and enhancing our fighting technique.

Natasha took a moment, and then did a quick kip-up back to her feet. “Good. Very good. Never fought a Capoeistra before, that was actually rather exciting!” She turned back to face me, watching my movements, but not dropping into combat posture herself. “And you get me. I really like that, I really do. My sifu had a saying –”

I cut her off with a knowing smile. “– If you want to really understand someone, you fight them.” I ended my ginga, touched the “remove armor” icon on my wrist screen and slipped my phone back into my pocket as my armor vanished. “Mine said that too. You’re not here to kill me. This was a test, an audition. You want an ally.”

“You cheeky bastard. Words to that effect, yes.” She deactivated her own armor, and I took in her gorgeous face and leather-clad body again as a rewarding feast for my eyes, her chest heaving with exertion and excitement. “I could kiss you. You understand exactly. Two of us allied against the rest of the Riders — and when it’s just us left, we settle it honorably, like the warriors we are.” She stepped towards me with such intensity that I felt my length stiffening in response inside my pants. She took hold of my wrist and pulled me into her, her chest pressed against mine, her sultry voice sending silken shudders down my spine. “What do you say, Morgan? Partners?”

I couldn’t help myself. My blood was pumping, my heart racing, post-combat endorphins firing off in my brain like Labor Day fireworks, and every fiber of my being wanted to strip every inch of clothing off this woman (and myself) and slide deep inside her right there in the parking lot. I reached around and cupped her leather-clad ass in my hand, pulling her even closer against me, and she smiled and gasped in response. “Partners, Natasha. I’ve got your back.”

“Indeed you do.” She grabbed my buttocks with both hands, pulling me in so tightly now that there was no way she couldn’t feel my erection grinding into her thigh. Her teeth closed gently around my earlobe, her tongue tickling the sensitive skin there, her breath hot…

Takeshi, having already dismissed his armor at some point while I was occupied, coughed politely into his hand. “So, looks like we’re all friends now?”

Natasha turned and gave the Plex agent a thorough up-and-down look, smiling at what she saw. “I think we can all be very good friends. Did I hear you say something earlier about root beer floats? Point the way to such a delicacy, and we can make this alliance official over drinks.”

Takeshi’s research did not disappoint. Right next door to the hotel was a little place called “Root Beer Revelry” that carried more brands of root beer than I ever knew existed, with flavors on ice-cold tap that knocked all three of us on our metaphorical asses. I had no idea root beer could taste that good, and when the jovial shopkeeper served us our floats made with gourmet vanilla ice cream and one of the mysterious dark nectars at his disposal in giant iced mugs, all three of us groaned aloud in simultaneous pleasure at our first glorious sip.

While I stood up to look at some of the “make your own six-pack” bottles for sale on a nearby shelf, Natasha let her extra-large straw fall from her lips as she looked up at the barkeep. “I’ve already said this earlier today, but all the same — I could kiss you. This is absolutely amazing.”

“A very kind offer from a very lovely lady,” the middle-aged man said with a toothy grin that implied he got this sort of fun reaction from customers nearly every day. “But I think the missus would take issue.”

Takeshi looked up from his own float, one eyebrow raised as he turned to face Natasha. “This is just getting unfair. I’m starting to feel left out here!”

He was smiling and probably at least half-joking when he said it, but Natasha giggled and stroked a finger along Takeshi’s chin. “Well, we can’t have that, now can we?” Much to Wolfpack Black’s surprise, the buxom Phantom Rider leaned in and laid a gentle and lingering kiss on him. Moments later their lips parted — and although it looked to me like although that kiss started out as just a bit of playful fun, it definitely did not stay that way. Another kiss, this one even longer — and as they parted, the two of them looked into each other’s eyes, and immediately locked lips for a third kiss, this one much longer, and much more intense.

The barkeep flashed me a smile and a quiet laugh as he busied himself behind the counter. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that I wasn’t jealous watching Takeshi and Natasha make love with their lips. If anything, it just built on the overall arousal and emotional high I’d been on ever since that fight in the parking lot. I whispered quietly to the barkeep, gesturing to all three mugs as he rang up my sixpack assortment — “Can we get these to go?” Takeshi and Natasha were still making out on their barstools like touch-starved teenagers, drawing giggles from a pair of actual teenagers browsing the shelves, and a disapproving frown from a classic “Karen” soccer mom (I mean, she even had the stereotypical haircut) trailing the two teens. The barkeep handed me my receipt, my sixpack and a drink tray with three cups as Natasha and Takeshi wordlessly stood up. Natasha gently but firmly grabbed my free wrist, towing me as she was gently towed in turn by Takeshi through the store’s side door, which led directly into the hotel lobby.

Five minutes later, the three of us stood in front of our reserved room’s only bed, a king-size that looked to be large enough for our as-yet unspoken needs. Takeshi reached for the zipper at Natasha’s neck, while I pulled off my jacket and knelt to undo the buckles on her boots. I felt her hands on the back of my t-shirt’s collar, and she literally ripped the garment right off my torso, tossing the tattered rag to one side as her own chest was revealed to the open air. Moments later all three of us were completely nude, and Natasha poured herself into my arms, kissing me with as much fervor she’d given Takeshi downstairs. Meanwhile he was eagerly nibbling on the back of her neck and sliding his hands along her sides. She turned to face him, wrapping her arms around him as she slid her tongue into his mouth, while my naked length rubbed up and down the valley of her soft ass as my hands encased her breathtaking breasts.

As she reached down to stroke our resident Plex agent’s cock while dancing her tongue along his, she lifted up on her tiptoes and pushed her backside out just a little towards me, spreading her feet a few inches wider. Her being a little taller than me made the angle perfect, so I took hold of her waist with one hand, my own cock with the other, and slid right into Phantom Rider Crush’s tight blonde opening as I stood behind her. No words had been spoken since we entered this room. None were needed. We all knew what we wanted. We all craved the same thing.

Grunting as she received each of my thrusts, she gently pushed Takeshi back a short way so that she could bend forward and swallow his length. I had my hands on both of her hips now, bracing myself as I slid back and forth like a slow piston into her standing pussy.

Even with no words, the room wasn’t completely silent. The slow wet sound of my hips, covered in Natasha’s free-flowing juices, slapping against Natasha’s ass. Whispered gasps from Takeshi’s lips as he ran his hands through Natasha’s thick golden hair. Her moans muffled by Takeshi’s rock-hard length as I entered her from behind. My own heavy breathing, grunting as I resisted the urge to speed up and jackhammer this perfect tight gift that surrounded me. Outside our window, the town of Galena lived its quiet life as the sun went down, the distant street chatter a quiet backdrop as three consenting adults were just getting warmed up. I imagined some unsuspecting voyeur across the street happening to look at our window and witness the scene unfold, unconsciously reaching into their own pants to pleasure themselves at the sight of our threesome. I thrust even harder at that thought, and Natasha’s wet flesh squeezed my cock in joyous response.

After a few more minutes of this I slid out, and we guided Natasha to the mattress, laying her down so her spread thighs were right at the foot of the bed. Without a word, Takeshi and I dropped to our knees before her, each holding one of her legs by the ankle and spreading her wide. As I lapped at her soft blonde pubic curls, Takeshi nibbled and licked along her leg and down her thigh. Then I’d move to her other thigh, kissing and caressing the soft delicious skin there as Takeshi took over licking her pussy for a bit, slipping a finger inside her. Natasha’s flushed pink sex was a holy altar, and we revered it, worshipping it as she climaxed again and again from our loving labors, biting down on the bunched edge of a quilt to keep from screaming to the world her approval of our deeds.

I returned to tasting her directly again as Takeshi’s tongue slid upwards along her supple flesh, leaving a trail of kisses on her feet. My fingers slipped deep within her, instantly coated with ample proof of Natasha’s raging arousal. She was mewling with approval and need as I slid back out. I glanced up at Takeshi, and then glanced down at her open thighs, a question in my eyes. He nodded, his eyes going wide — and I pushed two soaked fingers against the tiny rose of Natasha’s back door. With a full body shudder and an incoherent grunt of ecstasy, her body opened to me, and I gently made love to her ass with my hand while Takashi watched and stroked himself.

I stood up several minutes later and climbed into the bed. Takeshi wasted no time, and slipped his shaft right inside her dripping folds, pushing her further up into the bed so he was kneeling between her thighs at the bed’s edge, his feet dangling off the back. Her feet were high in the air, her muscular ankles against his shoulders as he breathed slow and deep to match his thrusts inside her. I straddled her face, and Natasha wasted no time grabbing my ass and pulling me towards her, gulping down my cock like it tasted of high-end root beer and perfect vanilla. I grabbed the headboard, holding myself up as I fucked her open throat. Maybe I could’ve been gentler about it, but she didn’t stop me, and didn’t complain. Much to my surprise, I felt her finger, wet with her own juices, press against my own ass as she continued pulling me towards her face. A moment later her finger was buried in me to the hilt, touching amazingly sensitive places I didn’t even know I had — and with a silent open-mouthed scream, I unleashed a river of semen down her gullet.

As her body shook with each new push between her thighs from Takeshi, I felt her suck every last drop I had to give right out of me, or so I thought. Apparently being a Phantom Rider did more for my stamina than I realized, as under her tender care my erection flagged only for a moment before surging back to rigid life.

I rolled off and laid flat on my back. Without missing a beat, Takeshi slid out long enough for Natasha to roll on top of me and sit down on my tip, her folds engulfing me. She looked back over her shoulder at Takeshi, and then down at me. I knew what she wanted. I reached down and took hold of her buttocks, and gently pulled them open to offer her ass to him. Takeshi’s cock must have been drenched in Natasha’s slick juices, because he was deep inside her back door only a few moments later, and all three of us moaned aloud at that moment. I could feel Natasha quivering around me, and could also feel Takeshi moving inside her. I’d never done anything like this before, only seen it in porn videos — but it felt fantastic. I was content just to lay back and feel the other two move atop me, while I ran my hands across her arms and thighs.

She leaned forward, offering her breasts to me, and I eagerly swirled my tongue around one hard gumdrop of a nipple, while firmly pinching the other. I looked around her to see Takeshi glide his fingernails down her back as he slid deep into her ass, and her whole body began convulsing. She bit down into my shoulder, not *quite* drawing blood but damn close. As her climax hit, her already-tight pussy clenched down on me like a vice, and I felt a thunderbolt of an orgasm hit me right between the eyes without warning, spots appearing in my eyes as my own body shook with pleasure. I could hear Takeshi groaning louder than ever, and I had no doubt that Natasha’s ass was getting filled with cum at that very moment.
With one last simultaneous gasp of pure pleasure, our conjoined bodies all collapsed onto the bed, cocks slipping out of wet holes and limbs becoming lovingly entangled, Natasha sandwiched between Takeshi and me. I managed to have enough presence of mind to pull the covers up over all three of us before my eyes closed and I was claimed by sleep.

***

I had a vague awareness of dreaming, half-formed images of wings sprouting from my naked shoulders and my leaping upwards into the sky, before an entirely new sensation took overwhelming precedence — a warm mouth enveloping my hard cock.

My eyes slowly opened, and a mane of golden hair filled my view, bobbing up and down in time to the wonderful feelings I was experiencing. I let myself just soak in the sensuality of it all. She seemed to be enjoying herself, so who was I to interrupt? But as I watched her, a strange new thought arose. She was a Phantom Rider, like me. At some point, we were likely to come to blows — real ones, not just a get-to-know-you spar like yesterday. If she wanted to earn whatever her big impossible wish was… I had to die. I’d fallen asleep in her arms, and since she woke up before me, she could have very easily killed me in this bed. Even if he’d been awake — I could hear him quietly snoring to my left — Takeshi wouldn’t have lifted a finger to stop her, much less avenge me. She could have snapped my neck, smothered me with a pillow, slit my throat…

But she hadn’t done that. Quite the opposite in fact.

I already thought of her as someone I could trust. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have let myself get balls-deep in her last night. But that realization, of what she’d chosen not to do despite having every reason in the world to kill me with minimal effort and trouble — that’s what really cemented in my mind that she was absolutely sincere about being allies. Knowing that, now I was too. I had her back and she had mine, I had no doubt in my mind.

I reached down to caress her soft hair. “Hi there.”

Natasha looked up, my length falling from her lips. “Hello yourself. For some mysterious reason, I’m all sweaty and sticky.” She laughed quietly and took a moment to lick across my testicles as she stroked my length. “Takeshi’s still out cold, poor fellow. I think we wore him out. If you come with me right now into the bathroom, I’ll have you bend me over and fuck both my hungry pussy and my cock-craving ass for a bit before we get properly cleaned up. Sound like a plan?” I loved the sound of her voice, and who could say no to an invitation like that?

“FUCK ME! GOD! YES! HARDER!” For all that last night’s menage a trois was a quiet and wordless affair, Natasha was not silent this morning as she was bent over and holding the sides of the bathroom sink. After first starting right in with plowing that ass for a bit, I was now thrusting deep into her folds with wild abandon, and she gave every indication that she was loving every second of it, pushing back to meet me on every penetration and screaming her head off with delight.

“Damn, Natasha!” I slapped the side of her buttocks and drove in again. “Loving this, fuck yes!”

“Every day, Morgan! Every night! UNGH!” Her face in the mirror was one I’d never forget, a perfect picture of sexual joy. “Push that cock anywhere you want, jam it in hard! I want to feel your seed dribbling down my inner…yes, right there! …Down my inner thighs inside my armor while we’re back to back fighting remnants and other Riders!”

I reached underneath her body to pinch the hood of her clit. “Does Takeshi get to join in?”

I could feel her body shaking inside, a good sign. “Absolutely! So glad you don’t seem to be the jealous type, and… UNNGH! Life’s too short! I like you both, I want you both, I’ll keep on fucking you both. If you’ve got an issue, that’s your problem, not mine. YES! Right there! Harder!”

“I don’t think any of us are going to have a problem with that.” I paused to concentrate on her tight velvet fist around me, and as her climax hit, I let my own body go with the flow. This orgasm was a mellower one for me, less intense than last night’s orgy — ironic, considering how hard I’d been ramming her this morning. Didn’t mean I enjoyed this hot fuck any less, far from it. I could get used to this.

We finally disentangled, and I climbed into the tub. “Care to join me in hygiene?”

“No no.” Nathasha waved me off. “If I get in that tub with you, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you, and you’ll be pinning me against that tile wall with your cock in record time. Get cleaned up, I’ll go after.” I couldn’t really argue against that logic, so I grabbed my body wash and stepped under the hot spray alone. I really was sticky all over, so I soaped up everywhere I could reach, pleasantly imagining what it would be like for Natasha to spread lather all over me with her strong hands.

A few minutes later as I was rinsing the shampoo out of my hair, I heard a loud thump — but it was then immediately followed by laughter, so I paid it no mind. I finished my shower, and went at my face with my razor while my stubble was still damp and relatively soft. A little deodorant and anti-perspirant, some tooth-brushing, and voila — hygiene achieved. I stepped out of the bathroom, still as naked as the day I was born — and was greeted by the sight of a pile of pillows and blankets on the floor at the foot of the bed, with Takeshi and Natasha rutting like happy rabbits in that fabric pile, his back to me and her legs scissored around his waist as he gave her a good old-fashioned missionary screw. I leaned against the wall as I watched with a smile, feeling my cock stir yet again.

“Takeshi, deep, yes, like that, good good good…”

“You still want me to cum in your mouth, blondie?”

“I need it, yes! Cum in my mouth, I want to taste it, I want to swallow it, I wan-MMPH!” In accordance with her request, Takeshi had quickly climbed up her body and shoved his length down her gullet, much like I’d done last night. I remembered how good that felt, to have her deepthroating me as I came, and looked down to see Natasha spread her legs open wide as Takeshi fucked her face. I couldn’t resist — I was on my knees between those thighs and had my cock back inside that lovely pussy one more time. While Natasha squealed in delight at my intrusion, Takeshi looked back over his shoulder at me. “Man, we are never going to get anything done at this rate.” I laughed at that, but that didn’t stop me from spending the next fifteen minutes nailing Phantom Rider Crush to the floor while Takeshi got his own shower done.

“I swear…deeper, deeper…FUCK yes… I swear I’m not normally like this.”

I had her practically bent double, her ankles on my shoulders as I leaned in to give her a tender kiss, my cock still deep inside her. “Do you see me complaining?”

“I’ve just… it’s been awhile — ohhhhhhhhhh yeah, keep that up — and even in my crazy college years, I’ve never had two men at once like that. I think I could get used to having two cocks in me, oh yes. I’m turning into some sort of insatiable sex monster.”

I chuckled, keeping my pace in and out at a steady rate like she’d asked. “I beg to differ. Sex GODDESS, not monster.” I kissed her again, and palmed one of her beautiful bosoms. “So you like it when I watch you fuck Takeshi, or when he watches us go at it?”

“It’s heaven, almost as good as having both of you in me together. Why do you ask?”

“Because we have an audience right now. Millions of people on some other dimension that Kanzaki comes from are filming us through some hidden cameras every moment of our lives as Riders, remember? You’ve become a celebrity for an entire civilization, gorgeous. Can you imagine all these strangers, watching you getting your ass filled with my cum, jerking themselves off at the screams you make when you sit on Takeshi’s cock? You’re beautiful, Natasha — and everyone knows it. You’re a goddess, and your insatiability just makes you even more amazing. Embrace it.”

Her eyes had gone wide as I said all that, the implications hitting her — and at those last two words, she screamed with joy, clutching me to her as pussy spasmed one more time around my length.

We did eventually all get cleaned and dressed, honest. Even the horniest of horndogs eventually need breakfast.

***

As the three of us sat together in the hotel restaurant, devouring plates full of waffles, scrambled eggs (with cheddar cheese), bacon, and sausage links, Natasha and I were both fiddling with our advent phones. “Natasha, how did you find us, anyway?”

She smiled and showed me her GPS app. “There’s settings on here where you can track the locations of all other riders, although it’s not precise.” Her screen showed a map of the surrounding area, with only two dots on it, each on marked with our respective Rider icons. “I know you’re sitting right here, but according to the app, you could be as far as a mile away. No one else is around right now, but I have it set to give me a notification alarm any time a rider first gets within five miles of me. Here, I’ll show you how I set that up.”

As we finished up that bit of tech instruction, Takeshi wolfed down another glass of orange juice. “I think I know where Trebuchet and our local jerkfaces are going to hit.” He pulled up his own phone, although his was just a regular smartphone, no alien tech. “The Emerald Fang have real issues with women. Turns out that a few blocks away there’s a Women’s Health Center right next door to a bookstore that specializes in works by and for lesbians and transgender women. They’re both owned by the same two women, in fact.”

Natasha nodded. “So you think that’s where these remnants are going to hit next?”

Takeshi flipped through a manilla folder from his briefcase. “It fits their style. They shot and killed six and injured a dozen more at a women’s poetry group in St. Louis two months ago, and two months before that, they made a bomb threat against a gay bar owned by a lesbian couple in Chicago. Two months before that one, they walked into a health food store in Cincinnati and shot the place up with energy sidearms using Diamond Throne Armada tech, which is what got them on our radar to start with. They hit a target, scatter and hide, take a few weeks to get their bearings, recruit new fodder, work themselves up into a misogynist froth, and then hit the next target. Lather, rinse, repeat. We managed to catch one of ’em in St. Louis, and he spilled that Galena was the next prearranged hiding spot. It’s been two months. They’re due.”

“Makes sense.” Natasha took another bite of her waffle. “So why don’t I have my own Plex agent? What makes Morgan so special?” She shot me a wink. “Not that I mind your company at all, Mister Wakamoto.”

Takeshi slipped his folder back into his briefcase, and with a tap on his wristwatch’s screen, the briefcase disappeared the way my motorcycle did when I was done with it. “We had more information about Morgan, since he’s ex-military, and knew that he was someone we wanted to support. We got notice from Kanzaki several days later right after he recruited you, and our intel team hadn’t yet made a determination about you.”

She leaned forward, deliberately flaunting her scoop-neck blouse’s display of her gorgeous cleavage as she whispered. “Are you going to get in trouble for repeatedly and expertly fucking me?”

Takeshi laughed, and playfully tossed a wadded-up straw wrapper right down her shirt, which made her lean back and fish the piece of paper out while making a mock-annoyed face. “No, it’s fine. I’ll get ribbed about it from some colleagues, but to hell with them, I don’t regret any of what we did. I want to be there for both of you, as much as I can — and aside from the joy of your company, the three of us are going to be an amazing remnant-hunting machine together.”

I was looking over the “phantom flyer” app, and found a customization menu for not only the bike, but also my helmet and motorcycle leathers. I could add numbers, images, colors… An idea started forming. “We want to keep this battle off the street, and we want to hit them before they attack. Do these guys know what Phantom Riders are?”

Takeshi shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

“Okay. I think I’ve got an idea on how to get them to lead us right to their hideout.” I dabbed at my lips with a napkin. “On that subject – what’s the rules of engagement regarding these cultists?”

“Give them a chance to surrender. If they lay down arms, then the FBI — who are on their way to clean up after us — will take them into custody with the help of local law enforcement, once we’ve confiscated their weapons. If the Emerald Fang opens fire on you or any civilians, we are fully authorized to use lethal force. If you can disable them without killing them, that’s always good. But quite frankly these are domestic terrorists who have murdered civilians before and will again. Don’t give them a chance to kill anyone else. That goes triple for Count Trebuchet, who will stand out because of his blue-tinted skin and weird gold-purple hair. If he so much as picks up a weapon, you take him out immediately.”

Natasha sighed. “It’s funny. I spent seven years as a mercenary, with all that entails, hoping to learn what I needed to make things right. I had given up and gotten out of that game when Kanzaki found me and gave me one last chance. I didn’t expect I’d be drawing blood again, but here I am.”

I put my hand on hers. “What needs to be made right?”

She squeezed back and looked down at her plate. “To be blunt, there’s a certain woman I need to kill. She hurt my mother, all but destroyed everything our family was and had, and all the good mum had done and worked so hard for. Because of that woman, we were forced to leave our home in Australia and move here so many years ago. But that bitch is protected. There’s no way I can get to her – not through the law, not through anything else. But if I survive this Rider War, I will have carte blanche to walk right through her army of guards in my bulletproof Phantom Rider armor and make her pay for what he did.” She took a deep breath. “And you?”

I reached into my wallet and pulled out a photo. “This is Morris, my little brother. Without Kanzaki’s help, he’ll die a slow and painful death from a brain tumor. He’s a good man — better than me. He deserves a chance at a real life.” I looked up into her eyes, and I could see in that moment that we both remembered one simple truth about this situation: before long, one or both of us was going to die. At best, only one of us was going to get what we wanted. One of us might have to kill the other to do it.

My jaw clenched — and suddenly Natasha stood and pulled me up into her arms, holding me tight with her cheek against mine. I could feel her tears – or were they mine? “We’ll figure this out, Morgan.” She whispered. “I promise. I promise.”

***

An hour later, I was sitting at an outdoor café directly across the street from the “Artemis & Aphrodite Women’s Health Center”. My phantom flyer bike parked in front of me had been altered by the app to a grey color with black accents, sporting an “iron cross” logo I’d found by googling “Panzer Tank”. My riding leathers and helmet now sported the same grey/black color scheme, the helmet resting on my table in front of me next to a plate of steak. The helmet (which was now connected to Takeshi and Natasha’s phone and the Bluetooth bud in my ear) also had one other addition — the numbers “88” in large digits on each side, a dog-whistle among neo-fascists to show reverence for a certain historical asshole named Adolf. Putting that on my gear made me want to vomit, and I was going to get rid of all that fascist crap the very instant I could — but for now, it was necessary.

I set down my can of “Monster” energy drink and made a show of looking across the street and shaking my head as I flipped through a paperback of “Atlas Shrugged” I’d picked up down the street.

Takeshi’s voice in my ear laughed as I took a bite of my steak. “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?”

I muttered under my breath in response. “You said they were recruiting. I knew guys like this in the service. Big displays of uber-masculinity are what it’s all about, and radical incels go hand in hand with fascists. It’s pathetic, honestly.”

“Nice ride, man. That a Harley?” That was a voice to my left. I slowly turned to look at the speaker. Five foot seven, built but not jacked. Pasty white kid, early twenties, blonde hair buzzed short. Poorly concealed shoulder holster under his denim jacket, knife on one of his boots. Army surplus urban camo pants. Green wolf-head embroidered patch on his left breast, SS lightning bolt insignia on his shoulder. Jackpot and Showtime.

I took a slow sip from my can and set it down, staring right between his eyes. “Damn right that’s mine. Custom job. You breathe on it, we’ll have serious words.”

“It’s cool, it’s cool — I’d never touch another man’s ride, just saying you got good taste.” Fang-boy was nervous, but looked eager. Good.

“Of course I do.” I glanced at his shoulder, gave him a nod. “Nice jacket.” I turned away, projecting an air of indifference.

“I, ah… I think we’ve got stuff in common, you know?” The kid circled around to stand in front of me, but at a respectful distance, shoulders slouched.

“I bet you’d like that.” I cut myself another piece of meat from my steak.

“I’m serious! I’m an Alpha, like you! People like us, we’re supposed to be in charge, not…” He glanced over his shoulder at the Women’s Health Center, and a pair of black women walking up to the center’s front door. “Not them.”

I looked him right in the eye. “You, an Alpha? You’ve got a good eye, I’ll give you that, but you’re not on my level. But hey — ambition’s good.”

The kid’s cheek twitched, and he jutted out his chin. “Maybe Alpha was… presumptuous. But I’m part of something bigger. Something powerful. A pack. We live by the fourteen words, and we strike at our enemies in the holy war that’s already started. My name’s Tim. The alpha of my pack would welcome someone strong like you.”

I nodded with approval. “Fourteen words. Good, Tim. Very good. Call me Panzer. Maybe we do have something to talk about.” The ‘fourteen words’ bit was another neo-fascist dog whistle that turned my stomach to parrot — but this subterfuge was my idea, my role to play. “I was just passing through this town of tourists and soyboys on my way to some real action in Chicago, but maybe there’s something worthwhile here, real men who know what’s right.” I dropped a hundred on my table and grabbed my helmet. “Let’s see this so-called pack of yours, and see if they measure up.”

Takeshi was practically giggling in my ear. “The moron actually BOUGHT all that? And now he’s going to lead you right to Trebuchet? Jesus Mary and Buddha, Morgan. I can’t believe you pulled that stunt off. Okay, Natasha and I will trail from a distance, and the FBI has been warned about what we’re about to do, and will wait from a distance.”

I followed Tim’s car to an old farmhouse on the outskirts of town. I could see a couple dozen men gathered outside — mostly in their late teens or twenties, but I saw a couple older fellows in there as well. They were all doing some sort of training. Half were paired off for sparring, while others had cans or other rocks set up on fence posts for target practice — but those weren’t any guns I’d ever seen. They looked like something off a movie set — and they fired bolts of purple light. I relayed that to Takeshi, who swore like a sailor when I told him how there were at least ten of those guns.

I walked past Tim and into the crowd of Emerald Fangs like I owned the place. “So which one of you cucks claims to be the alpha around here? Are any of you actually able to fight, or are you just a bunch of pissy bitches?”
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