[Locke]

Episode 1 - The Hero Has Arrived!

“Your job is to prove me right, not to make me regret ever making a contract with you.” Bison growled, folding his arms, there was no menace in his voice, it was playful. Bison was harsh, brutally honest and his sense of humour was twisted. You either tuned into him or you hated him. Ichijou smiled, then winced and leant back harder against the tree, his breathing slow. His clothes were stretched, torn and muddy, his face swollen and full of little, deep cuts which had now stopped bleeding but had left dried blood all over his face. He opened up the towel in his lap, which contained a set of shitty knock off action figures and lined them up in front of him proudly, before wrapping the towel around himself like a cape.

“I mean you don’t even need me.” Bison continued to moan, stomping his huge leather boots and waving his arms in exaggerated movements, “you could have taken those punks, yourself!”
“That isn’t the point.” Ichijou smiled, trying to stand up, “The hero doesn’t beat up the bullies.”
“What is it with this ‘hero’ business all the time?” Bison slumped, “We should be here to create chaos, and feel the blood run through our fingers! Do you really think a Hero can win this Match?”
“Yep!” Ichijou beamed.
Bison sighed, “You’re so stupid...”

Ichijou knew Bison wasn’t human, but he often wondered if he ever was. He was huge, easily seven foot tall, and with the muscle to perfectly balance his size. A thick crimson cloak flowed from his giant shoulders, muscles bulged between the opening, as it flowed down to plain, dark trousers and heavy military like boots. Ichijou had never seen Bison’s face from behind the featureless mask he always wore, but he knew why he never took it off, and the wavy, grey hair that jutted out the back told its own story anyway.

Ichijou gave up on trying to stand, slumping back to the bottom of the tree and closed his eyes. The day was coming to a close, and he could actively feel the air cooling against his skin. He ran a hand through his hair, jet black and in a perpetual state of bedhead. He felt himself begin to doze, when something nudged him.
“Wake up, Shithead.” Came Bison’s smoky voice.
Ichijou groggily opened his eyes, it was night time now, “Oh crap!”
“I thought you were dead for a while.” Bison said.
“Thanks for the concern.”
“You’re welcome.”
Ichijou smiled.
“More importantly though.” Bison continued, nodding his head down at Ichijou’s glowing pocket, Ichijou reached into his pocket to reveal a small credit card, the majority of it was black, with a white strip along the back. It was completely plain minus a few symbols Ichijou couldn’t read in the corner and right now, it was glowing.

“Looks like someone is trying to make a Contract.” Bison growled.
“‘And that is a bad thing because each Rider is another piece on this chessboard’” Ichijou echoed sarcastically. Bison nodded like a proud father. Ichijou jumped to his feet and began to stretch out his limbs.
“You feeling better?” Bison questioned to which Ichijou beamed at him.
“Then...” Bison rubbed his hands together hungrily, “Let’s take another piece of the board!”

Bison reached into his cloak and threw the Driver to Ichijou, it was completely silver, accented with tints of black and emblazoned with the same symbols that were on the card, that Ichijou couldn’t read.
“Henshin!” Ichijou cried, swiping the card through the top of the Driver with a brilliant flash and surge of energy, as he did the card began to glow bright in his outstretched hands and shot out before him, Ichijou charged through it like a doorway, coming out the other side not looking too different than millions of others on their motorbikes, at the same time Bison began to float up into the air and glow, soon all Bison was was a mass of crimson energy that slowly began to rebuild itself into an entirely new shape, a weapon.

Bison was now a Kwan Dao, jet black apart from the angular and deathly sharp crimson blade at the tip, that seemed to be made from glass as you could see right through it “Engage, Contract!” Ichijou commanded as Bison flew into his outstretched hands. Ichijou gripped his hands around the staff and as he did red energy began to surge out from it, bleeding over his suit.

The crimson energy formed around his body, changing shape and becoming physical, each crimson dazzle becoming something new. In a matter of moments Ichijou no longer appeared to be stood in bike leathers, as brilliant silver armour now clung over the leather on his arms and legs, accented with crimson plates of armour that looked like scales. His chest became encased in a streamlined and angular piece of crimson body armour, a gold orb dazzling right in the centre that pulsed like a heart. And the helmet changed into a brilliant, golden colour with devil like horns spiralling from the centre complete with two crimson compound eyes. “Kamen Rider, Kwan Dao!” Bison and Ichijou said at once, forming an entirely new voice. Together they twirled the Kwan Dao, resting it on their shoulder, “Let’s go knock some pieces off the board!”

Stood high in the sky above them, watching them intently, is a young woman. She is beautiful in a very natural kind of way, long dark hair flowing out from her hood pulled tightly around her face, she waits until Kwan Dao has mounted their motorcycle and ridden away before she reaches forwards into the space before her, she yanks and the very space swings open and she steps through it, moments later the space slams shut, silently.

Across the city, Slab and Angel are drinking beers and smoking cigarettes they obtained with fake ids, not that they really needed it with Slab’s obesity making him more an ageless human mountain than anything else. His dark skin was flushed as the alcohol and nicotine buzzed in his head. Angel is like Slab’s complete opposite, pale as paper and built like a stick insect, he ironically can take his alcohol much better and was merely enjoying a nice relaxing glow.
“That Ichijou is such a loser.” Slab said suddenly, looking up at the stars.
“Did he really think he wouldn’t be bullied, running around the school with a towel on his shoulders?” Angel goaded, “‘A cape’”
“‘I am a superhero!’” Slab mocked much to Angel’s amusement.

In reality Slab and Angel had been bullied their whole lives, back when they went by their regular names of Jack and Bob. It was only one day, when they found the fourteen year old Ichijou with his towel telling everyone that he was a superhero, talking to his only friends which happened to be a set of knock off superhero figures known simply as ‘The Stuff That Is Right’, each consisting of exactly the same mould, but each done in a separate colour and pattern that vaguely related to a real life superhero. They were shitty, but Ichijou loved them, they were his sidekicks. He was the perfect kid to have his life ruined so Slab and Angel could raise themselves from the bottom. Ichijou would take his beating obediently, it made it even better for them, “‘I wouldn’t be a hero, if I beat up the bullies’” Ichijou beamed as Angel and Slab pummelled him into the floor. They became bullies almost overnight, no longer at the bottom but 100x more scum.

“I guess if he was a superhero.” Angel chuckled, “Then that makes us supervillains. I like that.”
“A supervillian, hmm?” Slab pondered.
“You want to be supervillains?” Came a posh voice through the air, behind them. Slab and Angel turned to see a man approaching them through the darkness. His face was hidden by a mask that looked like a flower before bloom, and it was as if the petals were gripping the man's face. He was dressed in a navy blue suit that had a baroque pattern that seemed to fit awkwardly on his body.

“The fuck are you meant to be?” Slab said, drunk, standing with a slight swagger as he did.
“Me?” The man in the suit said, he reached into his jacket producing a black credit like card, “Here, take my card...”
Angel, the still near enough sober one, took a step forward toward the card.
“Not you.” The man said, “The fat one.”
“Who the fuck are you calling fat?” Slab slurred.
“And hey? Why not me?” Angel groaned.
“Because it is your fat friend here who dished out the beatings, you just watch and gode. You’re pathetic.” The man held out a hand and Angel suddenly gripped his head, veins pulsing at the surface as blood curled out from his ears.
“Angel!” Slab moaned as his friend fell to his knees, “What the fuck are you doing to him?”
“Take my card, and you’ll find out.” The man said, holding out the card once again.

At that moment, beside them, the space swung open like a door and the girl stepped through it.
“Lily?” The suited man gasped, scrabbling to put the card away. But the girl hadn’t just stepped through reality, she had leapt through it and as soon as her foot hit the floor she charged forwards, fist back. Silently reality slammed shut behind her as the man in the suit steadied himself, she roared with effort and sunk her fist into his face sending cracks through the mask and the man skidding across the floor, her fist bled by her side and she panted.

“Run!” Lily cried as soon as she caught her breath, spinning to look at the two bullies. She didn’t need to tell them twice, Slab pulled Angel to his feet and the two were gone. Lily suddenly looked up, like a deer in the headlights, cursing once, before she slipped through reality once again.

“That stupid bitch cracked my mask...” The man growled, trying to stand. Bright energy bled through the cracks in the mask, like a spotlight was placed behind it. At that moment the roar of a motorbike screamed beside him, “Oh no.” he whimpered, as Kwan Dao landed before him.

They twirled their weapon dramatically around them, before they slammed one foot forwards and aimed the blade right at the man's throat, “The hero has arrived! To knock you off the board!” They said, together.
“I’m guessing you won’t just let me leave quietly” the man sighed.
“The hero will never let the villain get away!” followed by, “Eh? Doesn’t the villain always get away?” followed with, “Shut up you’re ruining it!” followed with, “Jesus Christ...”
“Wow you guys really are very out of sync, aren’t you?”
This time both of them spoke at once, “FUCK YOU!”

“I figured as much, I guess there is no Contract for me.” The man reached into his jacket, producing the card and ran it through the centre of his mask. The petals came to life, unwrapping from his face and one by one falling to the floor, the moment the final petal hit the ground, the man exploded in a brilliant flash, for a moment the light blasted out before it suddenly shot backwards again focusing in a single space and taking on a whole new form. When the energy had settled, the shape before them was both familiar and completely alien. He had no face, just a twisted 3D baroque patterned orb, he had no arms just huge bat like wings and the rest of his body was a bright blue set of armour patterned as if a massive vine was twirling through it, with every crack leaking out bright energy.

“Allow me to introduce myself...” The monster began, but Kwan Dao slammed their weapon on the ground and leant on it.
“Don’t care.” They said, followed with, “No, that isn’t heroic!” followed by, “Always with the hero shit...”
“How can two people in Contract be so out of sync?” The monster groaned.

“The fuck you say?” Kwan Dao growled, spinning the weapon back into an attack position and following it through with a powerful thrust, the Monster evaded by taking to the skies with a powerful flap of its leathery wings but the blade was transient, both energy and physical and as such the space was meaningless and the blade merely continued through it, following the monster into the the sky, the tiniest of movements allowed the blade to cover huge distances without seemingly changing length at all.

“So that is your power, huh?” The Monster quizzed, “Well then that would make us natural enemies!” A hideous scream began to bleed through the baroque mass for a head, the scream was powerful enough to throw off Kwan Dao’s unison, causing the Rider form to fluctuate and spasm between the physical and the energy and back again. They screamed out in pain, unstable, vulnerable and crashed to the floor.

The Monster studied the fluctuations, timing the moments when Kwan Dao was defenceless as the armour returned to its base energy form and once it had calculated its opening it swooped down, slicing through their defenceless form like a warm knife through butter.

“You gotta focus, Shithead.” Bison growled, “Or we are gonna fucking die here.”
“It’s my body that will die.”
“You die, our Contract terminates. That is the closest thing I get to a death.”
“Okay then suggest how we can live, give us a heroic comeback!”
“Again with that hero shit?” Bison tutted, “Just focus your damn ears on my voice, your eyes on the battle. It’s that simple.”

It wasn’t simple, to Ichijou, but it was simple to Bison and that was enough. Using Bison’s understanding Ichijou nodded, sucked in a deep breath of air and focused. His ears found Bison chanting ‘shithead’ in his mind and soon his cries of shithead were the only thing he could hear, the horrible scream had become just a memory, and then with his eyes he looked through his mind to the battle playing around them, as the Monster was swooping down for a second attack.

“NOW!” Bison cried.
“HEROIC COMEBACK!” Kwan Dao cried, leaping back into a standing position as their armour once again became steady, physical and shone brilliantly. Most importantly though was the blade, that now burned as if it was a brilliant crimson flame and with a roar of effort they drove it forwards to the Monster who was now wishing it could turn round mid flight but it was too late, the momentum hurled it right into the Crimson Flames, tearing through his flesh and burning his insides.

The Monster landed behind them with a thud and a scream of agony, “You’ll still lose the match overall, it isn’t the piece, it’s the player and eventually there will be a Move made and you will no longer be on the board.” It screamed as its whole body was consumed with flames, huge smokeless flames that were every colour but orange and blue, the flames burned bright and huge but within moments they were gone, as was the Monster, with no shred of evidence that they were ever there at all.

“Nice job, Ichijou.” Bison said, as Kwan Dao’s armour and weapon returned to their energy state, gathering in a single spot and returning back into the shape Ichijou called Bison as the leather fell away from Ichijou and returned to the card in his hand.
“Looks like the hero wins again.” Ichijou beamed, gripping the card, then wincing.
“Again with that hero shit?!” Bison moaned.