Masked Rider Patience

[Scotty Rave]

Rest in peace Ishinomori-san.

Raveworks Fiction presents…

MASKED RIDER PATIENCE

Written by Scott D. Harris

Episode One
“Brother 52, Rider 12â€

+++​

They call me Brother 52.

I am not a number, I am a free man. Before, I was a blind follower of the Church of Malachi’s Hand. I was their greatest inventive mind, and it is because of my mind that I am now on the run. Things were marvellous until that day when it all went wrong…

It was the 1ST of June, the Malachite holy day, said to be the day when the Walk’t Godd created the sea and the summer. We called it ‘Maloceana.’ I was proudly presenting my invention to the Church’s highest, the Holy Father, Paradeus, as well as a jury of my peers. For years, Malachi’s Hand’s shared dream was to reach the surface world and show the humans the glory of our divine creator, Malachi. My invention, something I called the C-Shuffler, was the result of many years of tireless work and the study of surface life. It would grant the user a powerful body, and create a way to prevent the plague of wars, but I admitted to my regret when I revealed that for the C-Shuffler to work, the wearer had to go through a physical conversion in order to produce and maintain the self-recycling, non-pollutant energy that the device required. Paradeus told me that such things could not be helped, and I was honoured by his forgiveness. He entrusted the responsibility of the C-Shuffler and the conversion to me, and we arranged for it take place that very night.

I was a damned fool.

As I walked down the corridor, passing away the last night before my grand transformation was set to take place, I stopped by the throne room after hearing my name. I was not being called, but spoken of. I pressed my ear to the door and listened closely. Inside, I could hear the unmistakable voice of Father Paradeus, and two more with him. Yes, the hoarse croak of Bishop Voltulae, and the hissing whisper of Archdeacon Jelgazoa.
“You can’t seriously agree to this cockamamie plan, Your Lordship,†said Voltulae. “Why should we bother trying to be peaceful with the surface heathens? The sea birthed them, and they refuse to accept that! These blasphemers should just be wiped out.â€
“The Bishop is correct,†said Jelgazoa. “52’s plan is a liability. There is no reason for him to not undergo the procedure, but there is the possibility he will turn on us. We should ensure that he remains under the Hand’s control.â€

A pause. I begged for the wise and virtuous Paradeus to punish them for such treachery, but alas, my heart fell when I heard two words of response: “Very well.â€

As I ran, I felt the tears stinging my eyes and rolling sideways along my face. I wanted to run forever, but I knew that I would make them pay. I had been a loyal follower since my childhood, and all my aspirations had been dashed upon the rocks. I didn’t stop running until a reached the chamber deep within the bowels of the holy house. Before me was a leaning metal chair with a footrest. It was surrounded by many monitors designed to show the parts of the body that would be operated on, and of course a control panel to operate the mechanical arms that did the work (organic hands would have risked contamination, even with gloves on). The next few hours are somewhat of a blank to me, but I’m pretty damn sure I put myself through the excruciating pain of carrying out the conversion on myself. It hurts like a real bitch when you’re messing around with your own muscles and organs, with only an intravenous drip and an oxygen mask keeping you alive.
I managed to bandage the stitched up incisions despite the pure agony coursing through my veins, and I suppose I must have reached the transport pods before I finally gave in and blacked out, because when I awoke, I was lying on a beach, and the first yellow rays of dawn were latching onto the blue horizon.

XXX​

Sheridan Doyle was driving home after the night shift at Bluebell Zoo, and looking forward to a weekend off. He did not expect someone to run into the road and bounce off the edge of his Land Rover. Cursing loudly, Sherry threw open the door and leapt out, bending down to inspect the injured man. He couldn’t have been much older than himself, with shoulder-length black hair and pale skin. Parting his lids revealed the eyes inside to be a glassy green colour. Surprisingly, and with a search to prove it, he seemed uninjured apart from what appeared to be covered with bandages. He didn’t want to unwrap them in case he reopened any wounds. The guy wasn’t hurt at all, so there was no point in driving all the way to the hospital. He was just stunned.
Sherry quickly loaded him into the back seat of the Land Rover, lying him down so there was no danger of him toppling and hitting his head, then hopped back into the driver’s seat and started the engine again. The giant car purred to life and carried on its way. As he drove on, something fell out of the oblivious hitchhiker’s pocket and landed with a soft thump on the floor of the car.

XXX​

My head hurt like merry hell. When my eyes opened, I had to close them again. Not for light, no, the room was dark, but simply because it hurt too much to keep them open. My body was still adjusting to its new state. The operation was carried out with precision, which meant my pain was only worsened. The cybernetic components were melding with my organic structure. It was amusing, this was probably the first time someone had actually turned himself into a cyborg without any aid whatsoever.
I heard a noise and opened my eyes again. This time, I felt the change as they fused with my new systems. For a few seconds, everything was static, then slowly changed through a wide spectrum of colours, and after a few more seconds, everything returned to its regular state. The room was filled with all sorts of mod-cons, including a circular yin-yang coffee table with a decorative chess table on it, a vase carrying some kind of large, flowerless plant in the corner, and a big TV hanging off the wall. It occurred to me then that the man heading towards that last item was probably a very materialistic fellow. When my sense returned, I knew my real question should have been how I had wound up in this weird place.
The strange man looked at me. He couldn’t have been any older than I was. The first thing I noticed was his scraggly, shoulder-length blonde-brown hair and beard. His eyes were quite dark, and he was dressed in loose-fitting clothes that made me think of him as the easy-going type. I would learn quite soon that I was dead on the money with that.
“Oh, you woke up,†he said. “For a while you had me worried, pal.â€
“Where am I?†I asked. My voice seemed unaffected by the conversion, or perhaps my vocal cords had adjusted while I was unconscious.
“My humble abode,†he laughed. “Anyway, guess I should bring you up to speed. You fancy a drink?â€
“Just water,†I told him. He left the room and came back with a glass. I tossed it back, and the tight feeling in my throat receded. The man told me his name was Sheridan Doyle, but he preferred to be called Sherry. He then went on to explain how he had come across me in the night. I was grateful for thing; the transformation had worked, the fact I was unharmed by the accident was proof of that. He asked me my name, and my story…

I realised that Brother 52 died in the operating chair, when the Church of Malachi’s Hand betrayed him. I hadn’t used my real name in years, not since joining them. I almost couldn’t remember, but it came to me in seconds.

“Yorick Olmstead. I’m…I guess I’m a wanderer.â€
It was true. I didn’t belong anywhere, not anymore, so I was drifting.
“…And I’m sick of it.â€
“Well, mate,†said Sherry with what looked like a genuinely concerned expression, “if you don’t wanna travel anymore, there’s room here.â€
“That’s very kind,†I smiled weakly, “but I don’t wish to be a burden.â€
“Naw, man, it’s cool,†he flashed me a huge grin like a melon slice. “Having a roommate would be brilliant, and we can split the bills 50/50. I could even get you a job at the zoo. How’s that sound?â€
I was touched. I hadn’t known Sheridan Doyle five minutes but I felt so welcome in his home. I uttered a thank you, and after he insisted on giving me a tour of his house, which I would come to realise was a chalet bungalow, he showed me the spare bedroom.
“It’s kinda plain,†he said. It was. A bed by the window, a cabinet with a lamp on it, a light bulb dangling from the ceiling, and a radiator attached to the wall. That was about it. However, it was fine, and I accepted it graciously. Then I remembered the C-Shuffler, and I flew into a panic.
“Where is it?!†he blurted out. “Where’s my C-Shuffler device?!â€
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!†Sherry raised his arms in defence. “You mean that red thing? It’s in my room! What’s so important about that funky little toy anyway?â€
“That ‘funky little toy’ is what I put the best part of almost a decade’s work into!†I screamed. An uncontrollable rage gripped me, and I thought back the urge to strangle Sherry. He swatted my hands away and met my glare with his own, and I realised that this man was more than he appeared. He had nerves of steel, and wasn’t going to take **** off a stranger.
“Chill,†he said tonelessly, “and I’ll get your device, but you’d better tell me what it does, because I don’t want any trouble.â€
“Fine.â€

XXX​

Sherry didn’t know if he could believe Yorick Olmstead’s story. They were sitting in the living room again, and the stranger was holding something he called the C-Shuffler in his hands. The thing was a red oval that fit perfectly into his hand. In the middle was a circular window full of white liquid, and two buttons on either side. The ones on its right were red, and the ones on its left were black. He said it was to be worn like a belt buckle, but Sherry wasn’t sure how. He also explained his whole past. He had come from some kind of church, but the way he said it, perhaps Church was more appropriate, and was the chief of their technological division. It was starting to sound less like a holy brotherhood and more like a cult every sentence. He had been betrayed by those he trusted, and after putting himself through a disgusting, and Sherry thought impossible, ordeal, ran away. At the end, Sherry was still quite fuzzy on the details, but he had a feeling that it was the truth, as hard as it was to comprehend. It was more in the way he talked, the way his eyes carried his anger.
“Man, this is all crazy,†Sherry muttered, wiping some hair out of his face, “but something’s telling me I should believe you. You just going to keep running?â€
“You already invited me to live here, Sheridan Doyle,†replied Yorick, “and I accepted. Besides, there’s no point in running. They’d track me down and kill everyone I meet along the way. They’ll know where I am if I stay, but I’ll know where they are too. It’ll be a stalemate, and that suits me fine until I can find a way to utterly crush them.â€
Sherry bit his bottom lip. That sounded a tad dangerous, perhaps even careless. There were plenty of people who lived in Hillmouth, and to use it as a place to make a stand against a dangerous army of religious zealots, well…it was almost inhuman. Sherry wanted to ask if Yorick really was as different to these Church dudes as he seemed to think, but thought it better to not risk a fight. Even though he had managed to avoid fisticuffs before, the stranger could probably flatten him. He looked at the C-Shuffler. Really, it didn’t look like much, but he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that in the right hands, it could level the entire town.

XXX​

Bishop Voltulae and Archdeacon Jelgazoa stared at the operating chair, and the blood-covered tools dangling over it.
“I don’t believe it,†Voltulae uttered. His mouth hung open like a waiting trap.
“Now that takes real bottle,†Jelgazoa remarked. She twirled a lock of her companion’s long, silver hair around her gloved index finger. “He’s a real man, that 52, wouldn’t you say so?â€
“Get your hand off me, woman,†he scowled. “The man’s unhinged. You can’t just do an operation on yourself. It’s not possible.â€
“I’m seeing plenty of evidence to the contrary,†Jelgazoa replied, patting his toned chest and walking closer. She ran her slender finger along the edge of a metal claw and licked the sweet, red liquid she picked up.
“It tastes of anger,†she tittered. “I guess he overheard us, and he’s fuming.†She sniffed it, and the metallic scent reminded her of the torture her secret little lovelies were put through on a regular basis. She turned to Voltulae and smeared some of it on his face.
“You’re disgusting,†he told her nonchalantly, returning his attention to the chair. Jelgazoa giggled to herself and started to walk away. When she was gone, Voltulae grabbed a drill and pulled it with so much force that its metal arm snapped like a twig.
“Nobody betrays the Church of Malachi’s Hand,†he said. “NOBODY!†He crushed the drill and let its smashed remains tinker to the floor like a broken jigsaw. He would find that treacherous 52, and he would kill him personally.

XXX​

The sun was shining, the weather was sweet. Sherry didn’t usually go shopping on a Saturday, but his new roommate was in serious need of some new gear. He couldn’t go around in blood-stained religious robes all the time. He had loaned Yorick an ensemble made up of a pink t-shirt, yellow jeans and battered Converses.
“I feel ridiculous,†Yorick muttered with his head down and his hands shoved in his pockets.
“Chill, man,†Sherry replied. “Pink’s in with guys.â€
“Well hay-lo there Mifter Fexy!†a passing camp chortled. Yorick turned red and walked a little faster.
“This is humiliating,†he murmured. Sherry nudged his shoulder playfully and made a beeline for Primark. Yorick pointed at another shop, “Top Shop sounds like the best place.â€
“You think I can afford to pay 30 quid for one shirt?†Sherry laughed.
“But…Top Shop…â€

Once inside the store, Sherry had led Yorick straight to the shirts section, testing out the products more on himself than his friend. Yorick’s eyes scanned the place, coming to rest on something rather disturbing, to him at least. He recognised the face of the man stalking quietly around the aisles. From his crimson eyes to his long, silver hair. Nobody noticed the white robe he was wearing, most English people were used to unconventional clothing.
“The Bishop,†he croaked, and looked at Sherry, his face masked in panic.
“Sheridan Doyle, we have to leave now. That man over there is Bishop Voltulae. We must get out of here or he will harm all these innocent people to get to me.â€
“You think a lot of yourself, mate,†Sherry looked at the silver-haired man, then turned to Yorick. “We can sneak out of here so long as we keep our heads down. Between all the customers and clothing, he shouldn’t see us.†Yorick nodded and gulped. Both men bent down and trotted towards the escalators, ignoring the occasional odd stares they received. Even when they were descending to the bottom floor of the shop, Yorick remained nervous.
“Now we just have to make a mad dash for the car,†Sherry grinned. Without another word, he sprinted off, shocking an employee and causing another shopper to drop her bags. Yorick was caught off-guard for a moment or two before following. The Land Rover outside was growing rapidly closer. Alas, they were stopped. Bullets danced on the tarmac, blocking their escape route. The two men twirled around to see their attackers. The Bishop was there, walking towards them, holding a Smith & Wesson Model 500 and being flanked by a group of six men and women in white tunics and hoods.
“Friends of yours?†Sherry asked.
“He’s brought knights,†Yorick scowled. “Get in the car, Sheridan Doyle. I’ll hold them off.â€
“You know, Sherry would do,†his companion protested quietly. “Anyway, don’t be an idiot. There’s seven of them, and he’s got a gun.â€
“Do as I say,†Yorick looked over his shoulder at him, meeting his gaze. Sherry saw that dark glare, and he reluctantly jumped into the Land Rover and fired up the engine. As the car started off, Yorick faced his pursuers.
“Brother 52,†said Voltulae, “you wouldn’t believe the crap we went through to find you.â€
“That’s not very religious. The gun, I mean.â€
“Ever little helps. Now…are you going to come with us, or do I have to introduce you to the receiving end of this gun?â€
“I think I’ll pick…†Yorick struck out with a backhand across Voltulae’s face, “UP YOURS, STINGRAY!â€
“Kill him!†Voltulae roared, covering the sore spot on his face.

The six knights released a battle cry as they charged at their former brother. Yorick grabbed one by the arm and swung him round into a second one, flattening them both utterly. Voltulae recoiled at the display of strength. What in the Walk’t Godd’s name were they up against? A third one threw a punch. Yorick bent down so the attacker simply flipped over him, and then elbowed her in the chest. The fourth used this as an opportunity to strike and kicked Yorick onto his back. The young man planted his hands on the tarmac and raised himself up, wrapping his ankles around the knight’s neck and slammed him into a wall before righting himself. Five and six reached into their robes and retrieved a throwing knife each. The blades circled through the air, and Yorick hopped up and spiralled over them, dropkicking the fifth whilst grabbing the sixth’s head, pulling her down with so much force that her spine cracked.
“You weaklings!†Voltulae spat. “Fine, I’ll annihilate this Judas myself!†He reached into his robe and pulled out a lime green gem of about the same size and shape as a ping pong ball. Yorick recognised the item and narrowed his eyes. It was a Holy Ascendance Crystal from the Archbishop himself. Either Paradeus had condemned him, or Voltulae had become a thief.

“I’m sure you know about the power of these crystals,†said the Bishop, “and look at that, I have one and you don’t. With its strength added to my own, I’ll crush you.â€
“Go ahead,†Yorick challenged. “When this is over, only one of us survives.â€
Voltulae held the gem in front of his forehead as his eyes flashed, and he thrust it into the air, shouting, “Oh Divine Malachi, let me ascend!†The gem exploded into a column of milky green light that covered the Bishop, changing his very appearance. His entire body was coated in glistening, silver skin. Two antennas jutted out of his forehead and arced back over his head, a hung from his shoulders, his feet curved up into single toes and a long tail with a spear-like tip floated behind him. The gem was now embedded in his chest, ancient scriptures, tattoos, were etched into his arms and torso.
“How do you like the new me, 52?†His voice now had a metallic echo. Yorick clenched his fists and took two steps back.
“You aren’t the only one with new tricks,†he said dryly. “C-Shuffler!†A band of red light encircled his waist and solidified into a white belt, the C-Shuffler device placed in the middle as the buckle. Its white window and four buttons, two red, two black, gazed at the mutated Voltulae. He pressed one of the red buttons, and the liquid inside the window began to churn, until a red heart, like the symbol on a playing card, floated into view.
“This should be interesting,†Voltulae remarked.
“Oh, it is,†Yorick smirked.