King of Time Part 2

(NOTE: The following is an off-season collab that has no bearing on 2018 and 2019 RP. Special thanks to TheDeleter for writing Vince and Cornwind Evil for writing Dawn.) 

~THE TEAPOT~ 

It had taken one or two more explanations from Vince and Kouta before Dawn understood what was needed of her. And then her eyes lit up with curiosity.

“Well, well. An original Rider. We're moving up in the world.” Her eyes flickered as she scanned the Space-Time Driver, which was lying on top of the work table. “Right at the start of his calling, too. For better or for worse.”

Kouta did not look any less out of place or in the loop than he had at the start. It was kind of crazy, how quickly he’d gone from kicking a future cop in the face to being very confused. He’d only barely grasped that Dawn was an android - not that Vince’s explanation had helped much.

“...I'm sorry,” he said, “am I supposed to understand any of this? Because I feel like I should, but I'm not.”

Dawn fixed him with a look.

“What do you know about Kamen Riders, Mr Tokiwa? Appropriate name, by the way.”

“Some parents can be so cruel.” Vince, standing off to the side, watched the proceedings with mild disinterest.

Kouta shrugged.” Didn't the news come up with that term? I think it's kinda silly. Why not just call them "Masked" Riders instead of shoving some random Japanese in there?”

“Ever heard of a contronym, Mr. Tokiwa? It's a word that means both what it means and its opposite. Take the word bolt. It can be used in sentences to denote securing AND fleeing.” Dawn picked up the driver and turned it over. “My point is, language is weird and you never know what quirks are gonna stick despite themselves. So, that's all you know? News reports?”

“Pretty much. Um…” Kouta scratched his head. “They wear weird belts and they fight monsters?”

“Basically yes. At the core, each Rider is a sort of greater 'immune response' to a large problem. The Gaim Riders, for example, were a way to keep an invasive alternate dimension from consuming our planet. Vince here, however, is NOT the Ex-Aid that was called to deal with the danger Ex-Aid was tasked to stop. That was a man named Emu Hojo. He succeeded, and the mantle moved on to Vince. He is, for lack of a better term, a copy.”

Vince rolled his eyes. "Ow, my self-esteem."

Dawn ignored him. “My son is not the original Build. I borrowed an original Rider's powers briefly myself for a time. It's gotten easier over the years, probably as the ease of Riders copying each other's powers grew. Your attacker copied the abilities of Shinnosuke Tomari, Kamen Rider Drive, who was a good guy, not a would be assassin.

“But you, Mr Tokiwa?” She fixed Tokiwa with another look. “You are the chosen original of the Rider Mantle called Zi-O. Your great task, whatever it may be, lies ahead. That also means you haven't begun to fully understand and increase your power, but that's fine, we'll compensate.”

There was a pause.

“...okay, then?” Kouta looked even more lost than before.

"Don't worry, you'll figure it out,” remarked Vince from the corner. “I did."

“Trust me,” put in Dawn as she set the Driver down. “If Vince can fumble his way into being a worthy heir… but I digress.”

"You're killing me here. Don't get no respect."

Again, Dawn ignored the peanut gallery. “So. You are being targeted by some time cop who wants to kill you because you turn into someone bad. You maniacs. You blew it up…” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Kouta nodded. “That pretty much sums him up. He was wearing a weird belt like mine, too. Although Vince's store copied his belt to make mine, so maybe it should be the other way around?” He looked at the Driver. It continued to sit there and provide no answers.

“Or it summoned the belt you were meant to have, having seen an example of belts that would be based on yours in the future.”

Dawn was met with a blank stare of incomprehension.

King of Time Part 1

(NOTE: The following is an off-season collab that has no bearing on 2018 or 2019 RP. But i hope you enjoy reading it anyway :P.

(Special thanks to TheDeleter for writing Vince)

If you can look into the seeds of time,
And say which grain will grow and which will not;
Speak then to me.

- William Shakespeare, Macbeth (1605), Act I, Scene 3, line 58

The first thing Vince knew about it was when the kid burst into his store.

He couldn’t have been any older than nineteen. He looked about as generic as a person could be - brown hair, scrawny frame, blue eyes. His face was red from exertion and his eyes were as wide as dinner plates. And he didn’t do himself any favours by tripping over his own feet and crashing to the floor of the store. Not the best first impression.

Yet his first words upon seeing Vince were definitely not generic.

“Hide me,” he whined, in the voice a hunted animal might use.

Vince blinked. That wasn't a common request. Thankfully, Beach Episode was a little quicker on the uptake. A few cardboard stands shuffled over, covering up the windows and making a small fort for the newcomer to hide behind.

“Um, hi?” The black-haired man took a few steps closer, staring at the mop of brown hair peeking out from behind a Zeph-O Max standee. “Welcome to Beach Episode? Are the cops after you?”

“Is that what they call them here?” The stranger quickly scurried behind the cardboard fort, as if a little too trusting of the flimsy protection it provided. “Well, yes, if that’s how you wanna put it.”

“I don't think there's any other word for cops.” Vince frowned. “If you're a space criminal or whatever, I probably shouldn't be hiding you. What the fuck is happening?”

The kid turned back to look at him. His voice took on a hysterical edge.

“Nothing! I haven’t even done anything yet! And that’s the problem! They won’t listen to me! It’s some Minority Report shit where they think I’m gonna do something and-”

TIME MAZINE!

A flash of red lit up the window, followed by the thrumming of some kind of engine. The ground shook as something heavy thumped down outside.The kid ducked behind the standees, muttering “ohgodohgodohgod” in a kind of frenzied mantra.

Footsteps approached. Boots.

Vince sighed. It looked like he was back in the game.

“I'm too old for this shit. Uh, no I'm not. Stay here, kid. I'll talk this out. Store, don't get involved unless shit goes really bad, okay?”

He walked outside, unsure what he was going to see.