Vent Light was making preparations.
In the time between watching the Teapot burn and reaching his own hidden laboratory, he'd managed to make several deductions. One: Faust hadn't just come there to kill his mother, they'd been after something. Two: There was a limited amount of somethings they could be after, and one of them was the most likely something. And three: that particular something had a very specific requirement, one that would mean exposing a whole other world to Faust and it's experiments.
And that was not something Vent was going to stand by and watch happen. So in the comfort of his laboratory, somewhere underneath the streets of Manhattan, he was hunched over his work table and fiddling away. It wasn't the most comfortable space to work in - organized chaos seemed to reign in every corner of the room, with the test tubes having a territorial war with the flasks and the bunsen burners ganging up on the centrifuge. But it was the best he had, and he never was very good at keeping things tidy anyway.
In any case, the immediate concern was the watch-like device in front of him, case open and circuitry exposed as he typed furiously away on the tablet he had to one side of him.
The prototype MKII Sifter was something of a pet project for Vent. Even though the original had served the Kobbers well in previous outings, the tech had long become obsolete to the point that even criminal organizations could copy it. And the major flaw had always been the need to traverse the Bleed, which Vent saw as the equivalent of crossing a volcano by wading through the lava, i.e. reckless and stupid. This new model was designed to cut out the middle man by shunting a person from one physical plane to the other without exposing themselves to the dangerous radiation - a feat that would be admirable, if he could get it to work.
But he'd been struggling for months, and had long drawn a blank. The thing simply refused to acknowledge the existance of other planes, at least based on the theorem he was trying. Unless he accounted for the Bleed travel, the very thing he was trying to avoid, the internal computer would always come up with a null value, and didn't seem to accept any other shortcuts that he typed in. So either the thing simply wouldn't work, or it would probably dump somebody into the coldness of the void to suffocate and die. Or just rip somebody apart at the molecular level.
A sigh of frustration escaped the young man as he put the tablet down and pushed his hair back, feeling a migraine coming on. The answer was somewhere, he knew it, but it just wasn't coming. He thought the theorem of dimensional travel had been cracked long ago, but by his calculations, jumping between two different planes like this was a logical impossibility. And with so much at stake, solving it was becoming more and more of an issue. If he couldn't get this to work...
A ding to his right told him the coffee was done. The machine it was poured out of looked more like something one would bolt onto a starship's engine to make it go faster - because it had once been exactly that. Of course, the filtration systems that had once refined combusted fuel worked just as well for beverages, with the right tinkering. But Vent's mind was far from the intricacies of spaceship engines as he grabbed the cup and took a long, thoughtful sip.
It was in the middle of that sip that the brainwave hit him, hard enough to make him spit-take.
"Of course!" he cried. Von Schlemmer's Not-Quite-Certainty Principle! It seemed so obvious now that he'd thought of it that he wanted to slap himself, but he decided to save that for later as he typed furiously. Let's see, if being in two places at once was a logical improbability, then surely it counted as a finite certainty, meaning it could be quantified as co-ordinates in three-dimensional space. So all he had to do was calculate the inverse of how certain it was, feed that into the equation and...
A green light flashed on the device.
"YES!" Vent leaped out of his chair, unplugged the now-working Sifter and snatched it up, grinning all over his face. He wanted to cut a jig right there, but was concious enough of the mess around to avoid doing that. And the man who had taught him that particular theorem wasn't around to give a massive hug of thanks to. So he contended himself with a triumphant laugh as he held the device up for inspection, looking like he was about to start vibrating from sheer glee.
"I'm a genius!" he crowed, not for the first time in his career.
Then he quickly sobered, and put the device down. Good. Now that he knew it was working, he had to think about preparations for the trip to the other world. Let's see... he'd have to travel light. Moving all of the lab equpiment was entirely out of the question, so he would hae to make do with his portable Data Scanner until such a time as he could procure more. Carrying all the FullBottles would be difficul, too. He would have to limit himself to a few Best Match sets, and try to synthesize new bottles once he got to the other world.
Perhaps he could find new formulae whilst he was there. He'd been coming up with a very interesting theorem on how a panda's energy-conserving biology could be applied to rocket propulsion-
He paused.
Something was wrong. He was certain that he'd been the only person in the room up until now. And yet...
His hand reached for the belt, just in case.
"I'm going to assume three things," he said, aloud. "One, you know who am I am and what I can do. Two, you're here for something of mine, and it's not the biscuits. And three, you're armed, because you know I'm not going to go down without a fight. So I would advise you right now that I'm giving you a chance to walk away and avoid all of this. I'm not going to start a pointless fight because-"
RED! BLUE! YELLOW!
Vent froze. His brow knitted as he heard the familiar clanks and clicks of the technology he thought had long been abandoned. But then again, he shouldn't have been surprised. It had been his mother's, to start with, and then left behind after the Keres were defeated and driven back. And considering the events that had formed most of his life, he knew exactly who to pin the blame on for this one. Just another thing that Faust had stolen.
Zero! One! Zero! MASQUERADE!
KAITOU CHANGE!
His muscles tensed as he heard the various schwings and flashes of the standard transformation sequence. Then, one by one, he heard the invaders give their roll call.
"Lupin Red!" The voice was young, energetic, no older than Vent. But there was an roughness to it that betrayed more than first hearing would suggest. Most likely they'd lived rough or had a rough home life, and developed a bitter centre that found the slogans and iconography appealing. That type were more common than one realized.
"Lupin Blue." Older, calmer, more refined. The sort who should obviously know better, but were either apathetic or didn't care. They were most likely in it for the money - Faust tended to attract those kinds of people, who's moral scruples seemed to have been replaced with gaping wallets that could never be filled.
"Lupin Yellow!" A girl, mostly likely the same age as the first voice if not younger. The voice was genuinely peppy, and that notion made what Vent had for a heart twist in sympathy. The young could easily be lead astray, could easily be fooled with half-truths and silvery promises.
Only then did Vent turn and confront the intruders, as a theatrical spotlight seemed to fall upon them.
"We are Kaitou Sentai...
"LUPINRANGER!"
Lupinranger. As in Arsene Lupin, the famous master thief. Almost appropriate, considering the tech they were wielding - not to mention whose aesthetic they were quite blatantly cribbing. But Vent knew there was no time to consider the ethics of cultural appropriation right at this moment. Because he had a hunch as to why this team was here, and it wasn't to drink his coffee, eat his biscuits and make comments about his physique.
There weren't many people he'd let do that, anyway.
"Okay, I think I got this," he said, trying to remain casual as he pointed to each one in turn. "Leader, stoic, pretty. Am I right?"
"I appreciate that," drawled Lupin Blue as he sat up from the bench he'd been reclining on. "But I'd say I'm more handsome than pretty."
"And I'm not that good at being leader!" huffed Lupin Yellow.
"And have you seen me at a party, dude?" chipped in Lupin Red. "I kill it on the dance floor! Stoic is not the word I'd use!"
There was a pause.
"...I take it back," replied Vent as he grabbed the nearest two bottles. "You're all stupid."
PIRATE! TRAIN!
BEST MATCH!
"Someone check the clock!" shouted Lupin Red. "'Coz I believe it's go time!" And he dashed forward, gun raised as he looked to open fire on Vent before he could finish transforming. Overeager, wanting to get the mission done quickly. The kind who thought they knew what they were doing all the time, and thus were prone to making easy mistakes.
And this one's mistake had been to make quips before attacking.
"Build Up!"
ARE YOU READY?!
The sprue pieces sprung up, blocking the shots and knocking Lupin Red backwards. Vent didn't even see him fly into the wall, but heard by the loud clashing and yells of pain that he'd hit the model skeleton, which has been put up there mostly to make the place look authentic. But in the panic that followed, in which the bewildered youth had to kick the skeleton apart to get free of it, his chance had long gone. And the others had either been too surprised or too smart to try and follow his example anyway.
The Punctual Swashbuckler! PirateExpress!
YEEEAAAH!
As he stood there in his new form, clutching the bow-like weapon in one hand, Kamen Rider Build felt the need to shoot back some kind of witty response.
"Olé."
Sensing they'd been insulted somehow, the Lupinrangers charged.
-------
"It's nearly time," snapped Night Rogue. "This should have been repaired hours ago."
He was looming over another figure - not one of Faust's scientists, but somebody new. They were crouched by the looping arch of the old UTG, fiddling at an open panel on one side of the metallic frame. But they'd been doing it in a manner that had bespoke hesitation to Rogue's trained eye - and at this critical moment, hesitation was not something he would permit. It had been a persistent problem, and one that he wasn't going to put up with any longer.
He raised his gun, and the ominous hissing noise of it priming to fire cut through the air.
"You're stalling," he growled.
The figure threw up their hands, stood up and turned to face him.
"Oh, that's fine!" Blood Stalk, appearing seemingly from nowhere, slung a friendly arm around the blue-skinned man's shoulders. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, y'know?"
Rogue stared. "Stalk-"
"But then again," Rogue went on, "if you don't, I can't guaruntee you won't end up in there." And he jabbed a meaningful finger at the Infusion Tanks, where yet another subject had just been converted. The Smash that had been created, a horrid gangly thing with too-large claws, was moaning in residual agony as the scientists hauled it out via the method of iron shackles and chains. Green fluid still dripped from it's form, hissing as it dripped on the concrete floor.
Von Schlemmer stared.
Then he turned, and his arms blurred as he began working at the internal workings even faster than before. Rogue shot a look at Stalk, who merely shrugged, but was clearly grinning behind the mask.
"I dunno what you're so worried about, anyway," the red-clad man went on, now addressing his comrade. "I told you, my boys are on the case. They'll get that Sifter and deal with Build, no problem! We don't need to do this!"
"Yes," droned Rogue, turning and walking away from the UTG. "Three untested, untrained youths with outdated, stolen technology can defeat a genius child of Doctor Light wielding the Build Driver. Truly, you have thought out every possibility, Blood Stalk."
"Hey!" snapped Stalk. "Don't diss the phantom thief gimmick!"
"I am indicting you, not your choice of motif," retorted Rogue. "I know how your plans usually go, Stalk. I've borne witness to enough of those that have failed to be able to predict the outcome of this one. And I refuse to take the chance that your little wonder-team somehow succeeds against the odds. Consider this an insurance plan, although considering the trio you picked, I hardly believe it counts as one."
Stalk was about to make another comeback when the snap of a panel being closed drew their attention. Von Schlemmer stood up, dusting himself off with one hand and wiping his brow nervously with the other. He looked as though he badly needed a coffee but knew he wasn't going to get one.
"I-i-it's... finished," he stammered, at last.
Rogue nodded, then turned to Stalk. "Gather the troops. Guardians, scientists, Smash, anything you can. Tell them all to pack as much equipment as we can spare - we can rebuild most of what we have in the other world, anyway. We leave in two hours, so they will need to move fast. And any subjects still pending the Infusion process will need to be... decommissioned, before we leave."
Stalk paused. "So we're abandoning this base? You sure that's so smart?"
"Only temporarily," was the reply. "If my guess is correct, our enemy will have the capability to chase us wherever we go. Dimensional travel will be little impediment. And our options and resources are mostly exhausted in this world anyway. It is better to keep this base as a backup, since most of our operations will be conducted in the new world from here on. We may not even need it, if all goes well."
"...and what about the-?"
"I will see to that personally."
And with those words, Night Rogue left the room. Leaving Stalk and Von Schlemmer alone.
A heavy silence hung for a while, before the scientist cleared his throat.
"You don't have to do zis, Stalk."
Stalk shrugged. "Eh, I know that. But in for a penny, as the saying goes."
"But... all zhose people zat have been hurt." The orange-haired scientist wrung his hands. "Zhe monsters zhat have been made, zhe chaos left behind. A lot of lives have been ruined by vhat Faust has been doing, and now zhey vant to take all zhat misery and suffering to another vorld entirely! Can you be sure zat-"
"Professor," cut in Stalk. And now his electronically-modulated voice didn't sound quite so chipper. He turned his visored helmet to face the other man, and it glinted in the overhead lights.
"I know what it's like to hurt people. And it sucks, a whole lot. There hasn't been a day where I wish I hadn't done it, if only so I can tell that person it's going to be okay. But it's never gonna be okay, because you have to hurt that person to do what you gotta do. You can't even explain to them why you have to, or even convince yourself that it's the right thing to do, because you know you can't and that it isn't. But I made my choice, and I'm going to have to live with it."
A pause.
And then a metallic chuckle from Stalk.
"Besides, I gotta be there when the Kobbers of the other world inevitably mess things up for Rogue. It's gonna be hilarious!"
Von Schlemmer sighed and shoock his head. "I can never understand you, Stalk. Even though I know who you used to be, it seems like I'm talking to another man sometimes."
"Eh, don't worry about me," Stalk drawled easily as he hefted his Steam Blade over one shoulder. "I can take care of myself. Besides, I'd be more worried if that gate isn't up and running by the time me and the boys get back. Because I'm fairly certain that Rogue will repurpose you as Damien Hurst art piece if it isn't."
As Stalk left the room himself, Von Schlemmer had the presence of mind to call after him:
"I don't suppose you could get me a coffee?"
"We're out," was the blunt reply. "Besides, you pulled that one on me before."
Von Schlemmer grinned. "Ah, vell, it vos vorth a shot!"
-------
This, thought Build as he pulled himself to his feet, looks like a stalemate.
It certainly did. The PirateExpress form had been untested on the field, the bottles kept in reserve until now. It had been designed primarily as an armoured, long-range solution to heavily-armed opponents, not to fight in cramped conditions against fast-moving targets. But the Lupinrangers were clearly as inexperienced with their new forms as Build was, not realising that their survival depended on them staying on the move and not letting him draw a bead on them. So as much as he struggled to keep at range, they struggled to find ways to counter his own attacks with much lighter weaponry.
Of course, the lab had been mostly trashed in the ensuing fight. That wasn't so big a deal, since Vent reckoned he wasn't going to stay there for much longer. But he hadn't the time to pack, and thus had no true idea if any of the actually important stuff had been destroyed, if at all. He dearly hoped that he hadn't just lost most of his bottles to the enemy's reckless run-and-gun tactics. That would have been a major annoyance, considering the time it made to synthesize each set.
Now, he and the Lupinrangers were having a standoff amidst the wreckage. It was clear that the Sentai Tech wasn't holding up as it once used to - there were already major rips and burns on their outfits, and Lupin Red's visor was cracked. Both sides had their weapons trained on each other, not moving.
"You're less of a pushover than Stalk said," hissed Lupin Red, at last. "He didn't tell us about the new form at all."
Build shifted a foot. "Shows what he knows. And serves him right for saddling you with outdated technology you barely know how to use."
"Not that it matters." Lupin Blue was the one who spoke next, manovuering to Build's side. "There's three of us and one of you. It doesn't take a genius to figure out how this is going to end."
"And once you're done with," chipped in Yellow, "we'll be taking that Sifter! That is, if you even managed to get it working!"
Build tensed. He could see that the trio were right, in some respects. The three could learn to better dodge his attacks with time, and as easily as he could tank theirs, PirateExpress wasn't meant for long-term engagements. With their greater numbers, they could easily whittle him down over time until he became exhausted, then cancel out his Rider form and finish him off. What he needed to do was put all three of them out of action at once in one go. And to do that...
He glanced over at the work desk, where the finished Sifter MKII sat. He knew that the Lupinrangers had glanced at it too. And he knew that unless he got this next one just right, he could either end up dead or worse. His next move was based on predicting theirs, and if he got it wrong...
There was a tense pause.
A drop of water dripped from a broken pipe. The sound was like a starter pistol.
Build leaped. Lupin Red leaped, too.
But whilst his hand was stretched out, reaching for what lay on the bench, Build's was on his weapon.
-------
"You already told me to repair it!" shouted Von Schlemmer, frustration mixing with his panic. "Now let me go!" Handcuffed once more and pushed to the side, he was looking every bit as nervous as one in his position ought to be. Especially with a gun trained to his head yet again, which was becoming a reoccuring theme with him at this stage.
"Or," he tried, looking sly, "maybe you should go, and I'll stay here-"
"Shut up," was Night Rogue's retort. "I'm not releasing you until I'm certain this works."
Swallowing nervously, the scientist reached over - with both hands - towards the central button on the UTG's console. For a moment he paused, as if having second thoughts. But he could still sense the gun's barrel mere inches from him, which was a very convincing argument to even the most absent-minded of mad scientists. So after taking a deep breath, he screwed his eyes shut and pressed down on the weapon.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the UTG flashed into life, the blue-white light filling the archway and swirling between it like heat haze, or maybe missed. A quiet humming filled the air, and the hallway was illuminated in pale blue, reflecting of every metallic surface it could touch. Von Schlemmer had to screw his eyes shut again, then opened them by degrees as his senses told him that no, he hadn't just been blinded completely.
Night Rogue stared at the gate, taking in every detail through his visor. Then he lowered his weapon and turned to the waiting Guardians, who had been observing the operation. Behind them was Blood Stalk, who had been leaning against the wall like a bored child. Ignoring the indifference radiating off of his ally, the black-clad warrior gestured to the androids with one hand and gave the command:
"Release him."
Stalk did a double-take. "Wait, what? You serious?! Isn't he a mad scientist with a PhD in almost every known field of-"
"His forté was inter-dimensional communication, not travel," explained Rogue, as the Guardians worked to undo the cuffs. "He may have devised the Not-Quite-Certainty Principle, but he could never perfect it himself. It would take a younger, sharper mind to do that - one far more observant and less cluttered. And you and I both know who's that would be," he finished, his modular voice taking on the faintest hint of a sneer.
The cuffs came undone with a click, falling to the floor with an unceremonious clank. Von Schlemmer rubbed his sore wrists, looking more relieved than he had done for a long, long time.
"Vell," he announced, "it vos a pleasure staying here, but I'm craving some sunlight for a change! Ta-ta!" And he turned and began to run down the hallway, eager to be out of the musty bunker and back into the world of-
BANG.
Von Schlemmer pitched forward, hit the floor and lay still.
Night Rogue lowered his gun, still smoking.
"I was speaking in past tense," he said, simply.
"Yeouch," hissed Stalk, looking at the body. "That's cold, man."
Rogue ignored him, and turned to the masses assembled outside the gate. Most of them were either scientists or guards - those who followed him willingly or did so because the money was too good. They made up a good third of the forces, the other two made up of Guardians on the one side and the Smash monsters on the other. The latter were each bearing a collar, with at least two or three handlers clutching the chains linked to each one. There ought to have been more, but the orders had come at short notice.
Rogue walked until he stood between them and the gate. He paused, primarily so he could gague how many eyes were actually on him.
Then he spoke.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," he droned. "I won't waste your time with telling you why you are here. You already know why. But I wish to make the extent of what we are about to do very clear to you all, so that you are prepared for it. Today, we step into a different world - a world that we had once left behind. A world populated by those who cannot understand our vision, and will do anything they can to try and stop us. A world of vigilantes and scum, who have their own false preconceptions of peace and justice drilled into their heads."
A chorus of jeers and boos were flung - the mob knew very much who to hate on command. Blood Stalk rolled his eyes behind his helmet and said nothing.
"But we will not bow to them. We fought their ilk once before, and overcame many of them. Drove them into hiding, into the darkness they once claimed to stand against. And we will do it again. We will tear down their outdated ways of thinking, grind their ideals into the dust, burn everything they claim to be true. We will cut them down piece by piece, as a swarm of ants is crushed underfoot, until we find and achieve what we seek. And once they become complacent with fighting what they believe is an enemy like every other they've faced, we will tear their wretched hive out from it's foundations and topple it to the ground."
Night Rogue of Faust drew himself up to his full height. His visor glinted.
"And we will remind them..."
-------
PIRATE EXPRESS: LAUNCH!
The projectile hit Lupin Red square in the chest, carrying him backwards through the air to slam into his comrades. The explosion that resulted engulfed half of the laboratory in fire, and sent the rest of it flying in the opposite direction. Build himself was thrown backwards as well, crashing into the opposite wall hard enough to dent the concrete before dropping to his hands and knees. The ploy had worked, but as he knelt there, gasping for breath, he wished he hadn't taken so many tips from a certain blond-haired swordsman. He was just lucky the Rider system had held out.
Not worth it at all, he decided.
Through his hazy vision and the dust fogging his eyepieces, he caught a glint of silver-black plastic or metal. The Sifter was lying a few inches from him, scuffed slightly but undamaged - just as he had hoped. No time to waste now - he couldn't afford to waste his distraction in gathering his resources. He had to get out now.
Hoping against hope that he'd keyed the right co-ordinates in, Build reached for the device-
"Hey!"
Build looked up. Crap. They'd had recovered faster than he'd thought, and were making a mad dash for it. Lupin Red did the impossible and dived, defying his injuries, stretching his arms out as his allies followed suit. Through the cracked visor, one eye glared out, full of determination despite his pain.
Without even thinking, Build's thumb found the button as he raised one hand to-
VROP.
-------
"...that evolution is coming."
And with that, the assembled army entered the UTG, ready to emerge who knows where.
The invasion had begun.
THE SHADOW OF FAUST
~A Steel Komodo Plot~
Coming Soon to ZFRP 2018...
SCHLEMMER IN THE COOLER.
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