October 14th, 2013

The school building loomed over her like a monolith despite only being two storeys. There was no reason it should seem so big to her, but for some reason, large buildings made her anxious. Her caseworker suggested that it was likely based on some sort of trauma, but nobody knew enough about the girl for them to guess what could have happened. Not even a therapist had had any luck in unlocking any memories, although that was likely to be an ongoing thing.

See, as far as anyone in the city of Canterlot could tell, she just appeared out of nowhere three weeks ago. No name, no belongings, no ID—not even any sort of record that she’d ever entered the country. A police officer simply found her one night while on patrol, wandering about in a stupor wearing only a generic hospital gown. As far as she was concerned, her life began when she was seated in the back of a police cruiser with a blanket wrapped around her and a cup of cocoa in her hands.

At best, they could tell she was maybe sixteen, had foreign features, and spoke two languages. If not for the fact that she spoke English with a perfect local accent, they might have assumed she was some sort of illegal immigrant—or worse, a victim of human trafficking. Still, she’d been given a very extensive examination when she was brought in, bordering on invasive. Aside from some recently healed surgical scars on her abdomen and one side of her head, she was in perfect health with nothing missing.

With nothing else to do while the police tried to find her family, she was placed in a group-home, assigned a caseworker, and told to just hang in there. Of course, that also meant attending school, which in turn brought her here today. It was her first day at CHS, and to her that meant meeting with the principal and a tour. A part of her wished she had something better than just sweatpants and a band tee to present herself in, but with limited resources...

Sucking in a calming breath, she walked across the front of the school grounds. It seemed worth noting that the walkway looked as though a section of it had been completely replaced, and based on the fact that there was a circle of fresh sod laid out around that section of walkway, something had damaged the area recently. Similarly, the front door and surrounding wall looked as though they’d been replaced recently.

Her eyes wandered, looking for any other sort of damage that might indicate what’d happened to the front of the school and the walkway. Yet there was nothing. No sign of an explosion or anything. Is this building built over a sinkhole and in disrepair or something?

As she let herself in through the front door, she quickly found her way to the administrative office. A pale woman with her hair in a dark bun was seated at the front desk, seemingly absorbed in some paperwork. She didn’t even seem to notice the teenage girl as she entered. Given my palette, you’d think I’d stick out like a sore thumb.

“Erm, excuse me,” she interrupted, bowing her head after glancing at the nameplate. “Inkwell-san? I was told I should come here to meet with the principal, Celestia-san?”

The secretary pushed her glasses up her nose and then looked at her. “I don’t recognise you,” the lady replied with a curious hum. “Are you one of our students?”

With a shrug, the girl rubbed her hand along the shaved left side of her head as she straightened up. “My caseworker should have faxed in the enrolment paperwork,” she explained. “It should be under the name Nebula Moonlight?” So far as she could tell, it wasn’t actually her given name, but all the same, they needed to call her something, and Jane Doe wouldn’t do; as such her caseworker used her colouration to inspire a name. Nebula for the Orion Nebula to which her eyes matched, and Moonlight for her nightly shades.

After a few keystrokes, a satisfied smile crossed Ms. Inkwell’s face and she gave a nod. “Yes, I have your file here now, Ms. Moonlight.” She gestured to the door to her right. “Principal Celestia should be ready to see you, but please knock in case she’s in a call.”

Nebula bowed again and walked over to the indicated door and knocked. After a few moments, there was a muffled, “Come in!” With permission granted, she opened the door and stepped in, and gave a polite bow after shutting it behind her. The woman of pastel colouration pointed toward a seat. “Please, have a seat, Nebula.”

She took a seat in the offered chair and folded her hands upon her lap. “Thank you for permitting me to join so late in the year, Celestia-sensei,” spoke Nebula, following the speech-pattern that seemed natural to her. “I realise that I provide an awkward case to accommodate, but I am eager to prove that my being here will not be a hindrance.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow at her, but chose not to make any sort of commentary on the overly formal tone. Instead, the woman kept a friendly demeanour as she led into some basic information about the school and what a typical day would look like. A quick discussion ensued about the sorts of courses she was interested in. There were also some basic questions kept for administrative purposes: preferred name, any allergies, if she was working any part-time jobs, etc. She even made mention of a musical showcase that would be run as a charity fundraiser in a few weeks—not that Nebula had any clue if she could even play an instrument.

After what seemed like an hour, although it was more likely to be fifteen minutes, the principal took out a microphone that she assumed to be connected to the school’s PA system. “If not for all this paperwork, I’d show you around the school myself, but alas the principal’s job never ends,” she joked before depressing the button. “Sunset Shimmer, please report to the office. Sunset Shimmer to the office.” Ending the broadcast, she quickly added, “Luckily, one of our top students has already volunteered to give you a tour of the facilities. She’ll show you around, and then by that point it should be lunch. You’re welcome to dine in the cafeteria, and then come back here to get your locker and schedule. You can officially begin classes as a sophomore tomorrow.”

After a few minutes, the door opened, and in stepped an... interesting character. Between the leather jacket and boots, the girl didn’t seem to be the type to have high grades. Looks could, of course, be deceiving, and it was apparent to Nebula that this Sunset girl was anything but what she seemed. The confidence of her outfit wasn’t reflected on her face. And there’s this strange aura about her. There’s almost something... I don’t know... It feels familiar, and yet I’m sure we’ve never met.

“Sunset, this is Nebula Moonlight, the new student we discussed Friday afternoon,” Celestia introduced, “Nebula, this is Sunset Shimmer.”

Rising to her feet, Nebula gave a quick bow to the newcomer. “It is a pleasure to meet a fellow academic, Shimmer-san,” she greeted. “Shall we go?”

In an almost defensive manner, Sunset raised her hands. “Please, just call me Sunset.” When given a nod of understanding, the redhead smiled. “Let’s show you around, then.”

It became quickly apparent to Nebula that something wasn’t quite right. As her tour progressed, she noticed a lot of glaring and whispering while passing students in the hall. All eyes were on them both when Sunset was showing her the library, and it was starting to make her a bit uncomfortable. How best to address it, though?

She didn’t want to assume that it was because she was of foreign heritage; she’d rather hope for the best than expect the worst of strangers, and yet she could hardly think a new student joining the school late into the semester was that unusual. This is why I prefer working with adults... That thought brought a frown to her face, as she had no indication as to why she would even have such a thought.

“Sunset-san, I must ask,” she said with some trepidation as she was being led toward the computer lab. “Is my appearance so unusual? Everywhere we go, I see people glaring and whispering. Is the student body perhaps xenophobic?”

From her position behind the academic badgirl, she could not see her face, and yet that question seemed to make her freeze up. For a few moments, Nebula thought she had said something insulting to her guide. When Sunset turned around, however, it was not anger or irritation on her face; it was dejection.

“It’s not you they’re bothered by,” Sunset explained with a sigh. She was unable to meet Nebula’s gaze, and somehow, though the girl was taller than her, she seemed very small at that moment. “It’s me. I have... a reputation. I was unkind and manipulative for a long time, to the point that I earned the moniker Queen Bitch of CHS. More recently, I was forced to confront the monster I’d become after earning the title Demon Queen at the Fall Formal.”

Although she thought she ought to say something, nothing came to mind. She couldn’t exactly say, ‘I see,’ because she really didn’t. Nothing about her body-language indicated that she had it in her to be cruel, and yet she seemed to believe this of herself. Plus, she only had the one side of things to base her opinion off of. Others might be able to provide more context, but the way she was throwing herself under the bus did not match.

“Po-people are trying to help me be a better person, but it’s not exactly easy to forgive years of manipulation and lies,” she continued. It almost seemed to Nebula that Sunset was on the verge of tears. “Maybe this was a mistake... This is hardly the welcome you deserve.”

What am I supposed to do in a situation like this? Nebula pondered as she watched Sunset withdraw further into herself. It’s clear that she feels guilty for what she says she’s done, and to volunteer to show a newcomer around shows she wants to make positive change, right?

Hesitantly, Nebula stepped forward and put her arms around Sunset. “The fault for this is not yours,” she said, patting the taller girl on the back. “It is not you who has made this unpleasant, and if they cannot get over themselves long enough to project a welcoming aura for a newcomer, then perhaps they are not worth getting upset over.”

She retreated only enough so that she could lift Sunset’s chin and make her look at her. “I will not call you a liar if you speak true of your past offences,” she admitted in a soft voice, “but if they are willing to make a stranger uncomfortable merely for the fault of having an outcast playing guide, it speaks more of the student body’s character than of yours.” With a bit of a giggle, she added, “They are but children still. If they want to go out into the world and eventually face HR for creating a hostile work environment, that is their prerogative.”

It was slight, but Sunset was definitely beginning to smile. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” she replied with a chuckle of her own as Nebula gave her more space. “Thanks, though.”

That got a shrug from the shorter girl. “I wouldn’t know about the workplace thing,” she admitted, never losing her smile. “Celestia-san might not have told you, but my memory starts mere weeks ago in the back of a police cruiser. The rest of my life is a blank to me.” She peered through one of the inset windows on a nearby door. It was a computer lab full of various students and a teacher. It seemed like they were learning about web design. “It may not be exactly the same, but I can empathise with the difficulties of having to start over.”

Sunset took her phone from her jacket pocket and glanced at the time. “Speaking of starting over,” she began. “How about we finish up the tour and go get some lunch. I can even introduce you to the friends who are helping me start over, so you’ll know some people when you start tomorrow.”

As they continued the tour, the two slipped into a conversation about the sciences, and she in turn learned more about Sunset. While Nebula was more interested in chemistry, biology and robotics, Sunset was interested in astronomy and physics. When the former expressed regret that she couldn’t have all three courses in one semester the latter playfully called her a nerd.

It was something of a shame, Nebula decided, that there was no room in CHS’s auto shop class. It seemed they both shared an interest in mechanics. Just as well, I don’t even have a motorcycle to work on. Note to self, ask Sunset-san if you may see her project bike at some point.

The last stop was the combination gymnasium/auditorium. It seemed like something that would be a staple in any high school, and yet it was a necessary stop nonetheless. Sunset made sure she knew where the locker rooms were, and then pointed out the phys-ed teacher. Coach Iron Will looked to be a brute of a man, and was apparently rough on all of the students, but it didn’t deter Nebula much. If anything, she welcomed a challenge.

Lunch was an interesting affair. Another oddity about Sunset was that she was apparently pescatarian; it was just a small thing, but it too did not line up with the bad girl image, nor the past she’d explained. It was a comforting point of relation; the first time the group-home tried to feed Nebula red meat, she’d had a panic attack and ultimately thrown up, so having someone else meat averse around was a definite plus.

Her friends were something else, too. None of them seemed like the sorts of people to get along, and practically seemed like the embodiment of high school drama stereotypes. There was a jock, a farmer, a diva, an eco kid, and then... Pinkie Pie. All of them had that strange feeling of familiarity about them, as well.

First you had Rainbow Dash pencilled in under jock. She was loud, arrogant, and didn’t seem to think much of Nebula—something about too many eggheads. Apparently she was on almost every damn sports team in the school. If not for the fact that she thought it might spoil the surprise, she’d point out she actually enjoyed running. I wonder if that’s natural, or if she dyes her hair to match her name?

The farmer was Applejack, or simply AJ. Her grandmother was the kind old lady who worked the food counter. Apparently her family ran the local orchard, too. Blunt, but she had a bit more tact than Rainbow seemed to. If she goes to college, I imagine it’ll be for horticulture or agri-sci.

Rarity was nice, although how much of that was pity for Nebula’s situation was up in the air. Legitimately, she wasn’t sure how many people would just offer to throw together a few outfits for a complete stranger and not expect anything in return. It didn’t help how loudly the diva was when she reacted to the whole amnesia thing. Wonder if that isn’t gonna cause Sunset-san more grief from people with grudges. I can just imagine people indignant on my behalf for her imaginary advantage-taking.

Fluttershy was very quiet. She definitely lived up to her name, and all Nebula really knew about her is that she loves animals and volunteers at a shelter. If I had to guess, her field would definitely be veterinary science.

Finally, there was Pinkie Pie. No. Just no. I love sugar as much as the next scientist, but I’d have to run a study on her to determine how she can eat so much sugar. Indeed, the girl had nothing but sweets for her lunch, and yet she seemed just as lithe as Rarity or Fluttershy. If she starts calling me Nebby, I might scream. That was the other thing about her. She was a very high-energy individual.

Alas, lunch came to an end and she had to bid Sunset and her friends farewell. Without anything else to do, she headed towards the office. More than once along the way, students approached her and tried to warn her away from associating with Sunset. It didn’t make her any more inclined to listen to them.

When she got to the office, the secretary gave her a rather strange look. “Ms. Moonlight, something very odd happened this morning while you were out getting your tour with Ms. Shimmer,” she explained as she gave Nebula a sheet with her timetable and a combination lock. “A courier showed up looking very confused, claiming he had a parcel for a student.” She set a box wrapped in brown shipping paper on her desk. “Do you know anything about this?”

Leaning in close, Nebula glanced at the box. Sure enough, her name—at least the one she’d been given in place of what her real one was—had been written across the top. “That is... rather curious, I admit.” With a bit of a shrug, she slipped her new lock into the pocket of her sweats. Her locker number and the combination for the lock were both written on a scrap of paper stapled to her schedule, so she folded that and slipped it into the pocket too. “No return address either... Maybe it’s a care package?”

“Regardless, I should hope I don’t need to remind you that it is inappropriate to have your mail forwarded to the school,” Ms. Inkwell remarked as she watched Nebula pick up the package. “If you find out who sent it, please remind them of this fact as well.”

“Will do,” she agreed with a bow. “I apologise for any inconvenience this might have caused.”

With that, she excused herself from the office and began to walk through the hall toward the exit. She didn’t at all recognise the penmanship on the parcel, but that didn’t exactly mean much. All that it did mean was that it didn’t belong to her caseworker or the police officer who found her. I wonder...

Although she had all the time in the world to simply wait for a bus, the group home wasn’t so far that she couldn’t simply walk there from school. It gave her time to get inside her own head for a bit. After all, she would be getting very busy in the coming days, what with all the catch-up work she’d likely have to do.

Tucking the somewhat heavy parcel under her arm, she retrieved her class schedule. At a glance, it seemed to be broken into several standard periods, the same time every day. First period was world history, followed by AP science, and then mathematics. There was a forty-five minute lunch period, and then comp-sci, English, and phys-ed at the end of the day.

Science and maths should be a breeze to do make-up work, but history, English and comp-sci could take some time, depending on what sort of busywork they make of it, she thought with a smirk as she weaved her way through the busy downtown. The hard part depends on my classmates. I don’t really care if they give me a hard time because of Sunset-san, but I don’t want to become a burden on her or her friends. They seem like nice, if eccentric people. God knows I need friends, and if they all get along with a former bully and each other, maybe I...

Canterlot seemed like a pretty safe city, all things considered. If you discounted the possible human trafficking involved in Nebula’s sudden appearance, and the recent monster sightings, you could even say that it was one of the safest cities in Amareica. It was a friendly city where you could walk down the street and get a smile from most folk.

Catching sight of herself in a store window, she shook her head. I should really see about getting some clothes that actually suit me. She paused as she wondered what would look good on her. A graphic tee wouldn’t be too bad, or maybe a band tee of her own choosing would be good, but sweats weren’t comfy. Maybe shorts and leggings? The converse sneakers she’d been given were maybe the only things she’d been given that didn’t clash with her taste. Wonder where I could get my hands on a lab coat though?

Yet as she travelled, something occurred to her. Things were quiet—too quiet for her liking. It wasn’t as if she’d gone deaf. It was more like she’d simply wandered into some alternate reality where nobody was around. Not even the animals were there. She coughed as a particularly potent bit of exhaust washed over her.

Wrenching herself free of her thoughts, she looked around. She found that she was standing near a playground along a run-down suburban street. Some of the cars even looked straight up abandoned. Wait a minute, this is nowhere near the part of town I was just in...

Her eyes widened in sudden fear when Nebula couldn’t recall how she got there. If she had lost time, anything could have happened to her. It might not even have been the same day, and that was what terrified her most; she was already missing more than a decade of her life. The only thing that grounded her was that she still held the parcel she received at the school.

In that moment, she desperately wished that her caretakers at the group home had seen fit to give her a cell phone, if for no other reason than to call for help. Even just a ride home would be nice... but no. Of course a socially awkward amnesiac teenager wouldn’t have a phone!

“So, you’re the one, huh?” came a heavily distorted voice from the playground behind her. “You don’t really seem like much, but then again, neither did the scientist.”

The sight that greeted her was an armoured figure in a red bodysuit, sprawled atop the roof of one of the play structures like some sort of cat. A patchwork of metal plates, pipes, and wires encompassed the torso, with the odd plate affixed to the thighs and shins. The helmet they wore almost reminded Nebula of a horse’s head, but for a tapered smokestack jutting from the forehead.

A visor shaped like a pair of golden eyes was all that kept her from meeting the stranger’s gaze. “What will your choice be, I wonder,” they mused aloud as a loud crash echoed down the street. They sat up and just watched her, their right forearm resting on their knee in a too-casual manner. “Will you run until you’re caught, or will you stand your ground and fight for your life?”

The sight of a car soaring through the air, tumbling harmlessly past her down the street, greeted Nebula when she looked for the source of the crash. If she thought the stranger atop the playground equipment was well-armoured, the creature slowly stomping its way toward her was a veritable tank. Although its legs could’ve been compared to one of those Canterlogic Guardian combat robots she’d seen on the news, its upper body looked more like a blue armoured fist clutching an orange metal orb, with two thin antennae jutting from the front of it.

It swung one of its two heavily armoured arms into a sedan with a loud crash. Unlike the previous car, this one slammed through the front of a boarded up house. Honestly, she hoped there were no squatters in there, because by the time EHS arrived, it might be too late. Not that I could even call them right now.

She turned back to the armoured figure watching her. “Who are you?” It took longer than she’d like to admit for their question to actually register. “Wait, fight? Are you some kind of moron? I’m just a kid!”

The distorted chuckle that escaped the stranger’s mask sent chills down her spine. “Me, I’m just... well, I suppose you could call me a pot stirrer,” they explained in what she assumed to be a casual tone. “I’ve had my eye on you since you escaped their lab, and I thought, ‘Here’s a bright girl who has what it takes to fight back, if only she had the tools.’”

Somehow, the box under her arm felt suddenly heavier. “This is from you, then...” she said in a shaky voice.

With a nod, the self-proclaimed pot-stirrer inclined their head toward the oncoming creature. “Mostly... And now you’re here, and he’s here.” When the glowing visor turned back toward her, she could practically feel them smirking at her. “And unlike all the previous times a Smash has appeared in Canterlot, the Guardians are all experiencing some very inconvenient software issues.” They gestured at the box under her arm. “If you want to know who you really are, take up the mantle of the Kamen Rider, solve the mystery of Project Re:Build, and stop the Smash at the source. Otherwise, run and leave your past behind.”

The choice seemed like a no-brainer. There was no way there was anything in the parcel that would give her a fighting chance against that walking tank. Dangling a mystery and the chance at finding out who she really was had to be a cruel trick intended to get her killed. Nebula wasn’t a fighter!

Nevertheless... If there’s a chance to learn more, it feels wrong not to take it!

Despite the oncoming monster, and her instincts screaming for her to run, she found herself walking over to a park bench. Tearing open the box, she found a brand-new messenger bag, a laptop with charger, and a strange lockbox with a fingerprint scanner. The first two couldn’t have held the secret to defeating the thing, which meant it was inside the hardcase.

If it’s addressed to me, then... She pressed her left thumb against the scanner. There was an audible beep followed by a click as the top of the case popped open. Inside, she saw a custom cell phone with a strange slot, a bizarre contraption with a crank and two slots, as well as four coloured bottles that seemed to perfectly fit those slots.There were also several bottles that seemed to be empty.

She gazed at the device with a critical eye. It was simultaneously foreign, and yet the sight of it elicited a great pain in the depths of her being. Picking it up, Nebula held it against her waist, the side with the crank pointed to her right, with the slots facing the front. The moment it made contact, a golden strap shot out from one side, wrapping itself around her seamlessly.

“How do I...” she muttered in a dazed voice as she picked two bottles out of the case. One bearing the image of a bird had a near-black cloudy substance within. The other had a milky substance within, a scythe etched in red on the bottle. The last two—butter-yellow with a horse etching and sky blue with a revolver etching—she left behind. “Why is this so... familiar?”

Without requiring any explanation she began to shake both bottles to agitate the contained substance. As the Smash drew closer, she began to feel the same sense of excitement she felt whenever she read about something scientific. Even though her brain was screaming in terror as the thing finally noticed her, she found herself saying, “Shall we play mad scientist?” before twisting the caps on the bottles and jamming them into the slots—bird on the right, and blade on the left.

«Raven!»

«Scythe!»

«Best Match!»

The voice the belt emitted sounded like a cheerful young woman. Spurred on by the voice, she began to crank the device several times. From its side, several transparent tubes emerged moving ahead and behind her to form a framework suspending several pieces of armour, a metal runner manifesting from nowhere to either side along the ground.

Suspended before her were glossy charcoal casing that would cover the left half of her head, the right side of her torso and arm, and her left leg. Behind her was a mirrored white set, with red accents. Notably, the left shoulder and right foot bore a slight bladed appearance. And is that a combat skirt? How it would actually get onto her seemed completely unscientific, but all the same...

«Are you ready?»

She ducked into a crouch, one arm stretched behind her while her left fist met the ground before her, then standing to match the armour’s position. It made no sense for her to know the apparent trigger phrase, but as soon as she spoke the word, “Henshin!” the armour before her and behind her slid down the track to slam shut over her. The unarmoured parts of her were rather quickly encompassed in a seamless black bodysuit. a mixture of steam and black feathers shot out from the armour as its two halves sealed perfectly around her.

«The Grim Harbinger! Yabei!»

Nebula stared down at her now-gloved hands, opening them and closing them in wonderment. Power like she’d never felt before coursed through her veins, and her body felt so light. The unease she felt at potentially fighting slowly bled away, and distantly, she thought she heard her unexpected audience clapping. I... I can do this!

When she glanced back down at the case, she found the other two coloured bottles, and two of the empties gone. Now they were at either side of her hip, clipped into straps affixed to her belt. I have so many questions right now, but for the time being I’ll accept the convenience of it.

“That’s what I like to see!” called her watcher. “Now show me you’re worthy to inherit the Rider System, my little crow.”

[Insert Start: Ignite the Night]

She didn’t turn to face them, instead focusing on the Smash. Now, it didn’t seem so undefeatable. If anything, it almost seemed... confused—like it couldn’t understand why she wasn’t running. The two simply stared at one another, daring the other to make the first move.

The creature made the first move, lumbering forward, one of its bulky metal arms drawn back. It was one hell of a haymaker to open up with, and based on how it knocked around the cars, it probably would hit harder than a truck. It should have inspired fear in the teen... and yet it didn’t.

To Nebula, the Smash seemed somehow slower than it had before. She could see the punch coming and the path it would take. It in turn allowed her to duck under the blow, fluidly sliding beneath its singing arm. A few punches into its side—which, based on the armoured beast’s heavy plating, probably should’ve hurt—coupled with the creature’s own momentum to set it off balance, which she quickly took advantage of; using the bladed protrusion on her right boot, she hooked its leg out from under it, sending it sprawling to the ground.

Its mass worked against it, causing a small crater in the small walkway upon which they fought. Thinking it unlikely to be agile due to its bulk and heavy armour, she drew closer, even as she puzzled out how to finish it off. This proved to be a mistake, as it rolled sideways towards her, lashing out with an elbow strike that knocked her backwards; her body carved a small trench in the ground before she finally stopped in the middle of the street.

As she pushed herself back to her feet, she saw that the smash was gone. Further beyond that spot, she saw the androgynous, armoured observer watching with interest, a phone clutched in one hand. Actually, it looked like they were subtly pointing up with their free hand. Wait, what?

She looked up and saw the creature barrelling toward her out of the sky. Once again, its arm was outstretched to deliver a haymaker. Unlike the previous attempt, she only had moments to react, and she threw herself sideways down the street. She managed to stay upright just long enough to watch it create an even larger crater in the street.

“This isn’t working... a scythe is a bladed instrument,” she mused, her hand shooting to the blue bottle at her hip. “It might not be so bad if I had an actual weapon, but I don’t have the power to punch through its armour.” She popped the left bottle out of her belt, and replaced it with the blue one. In the same fluid motion, she clipped the Scythe bottle to her belt.

«Magnum!»

Once more she began cranking the handle at the side of her belt. Again, plastic tubes shot out of the device, forming blue armour-pieces to the left of her. “Cross change!” she shouted, causing the replacement armour parts to slam into her from the side. Aside from the colouring and the smoother shoulder pauldron, the armour at her elbow took on the appearance of a revolver’s hammer. Similarly, atop her forearm there was a metal shroud from which a barrel protruded.

Finally, some firepower!

Before she had the opportunity to puzzle out how to make a shot, the Smash tore through the rim of the crater. It was heading right toward her, and she found herself showered with large chunks of pavement. Shying away, trying to protect herself with her right arm, a wing with metallic feathers emerged from her back.

It shielded her from the majority of the disturbed tarmac, but most importantly, it masked her next action. A smile formed behind her helmet as the wing retreated back into the armour. Once again, she ducked in order to avoid a deadly blow, but instead of flowing around her opponent this time, she struck it with a vicious uppercut.

The moment her arm fully extended into the blow, a loud crack could be heard. A sphere of dark energy emerged from the barrel on her forearm, impacting the Smash just below where she reckoned its face to be. Launched up into the air by the sudden force of the blast, it could do nothing but flail helplessly as it soared ever higher into the sky.

Crank the belt, and jump into the sky, a tiny voice in the back of her mind told her. Let instinct guide the rest.

Choosing to follow her instincts, she did just that; she cranked the handle several times and then jumped. Kicking off with the charcoal grey left leg, she found herself rocketing off into the sky after the smash. There was no rational way for a human to commit such a feat and yet in seconds she found herself just above the Smash.

«Vortex Finish!»

With the announcement of her belt, she slammed her left fist down into the creature’s back. Although the creature started tumbling back down toward the ground, the blast from her arm-cannon flew behind her and gave her the extra thrust needed to slowly exceed the Smash’s own downward momentum. Energy formed around her right leg, so as she accelerated toward the creature, she lashed out with a fiery kick.

Her superhero landing should’ve shattered every bone in her body, but something about the protective suit didn’t seem to agree; the impact jarred her and she imagined she might be feeling that later. The smash wasn’t so lucky. It landed in the crater it made before, kicking up yet another cloud of debris.

Operating purely on instinct at this point, she stood and withdrew one of the empty bottles from the strap on her waist. Walking toward the crater, she threw the bottle in the air and caught it several times. “What am I supposed to do with this, I wonder?” she said aloud, crouching at the crater’s edge. “Thoughts?”

[Insert End]

As she twisted the cap with her thumb and pointed it at the still-twitching Smash, a cloud of red mist surged out of the Smash’s body and into the empty bottle. There should’ve been no way it all could all fit into that tiny bottle, especially as the body of the creature disintegrated; at the same time, it almost seemed like it wanted to be contained.

When the last vestiges of the monster disappeared, there was a man in a hospital gown, covered in scars and prison tattoos. He was still alive, although he was coated in a sheen of sweat. Her gaze drifted from the man to the bottle in her hand, which had swollen up and taken on a black spider web pattern. What is this gas, and how does this bottle differ from the other four?

“There you have it, little crow,” she heard the distorted voice of her watcher and mysterious benefactor beside her. Before she could even turn to look, the equine-themed metal-punk warrior hopped down into the crater and touched the unconscious former monster. “Your big mystery: What is the gas? How does it work? Most important of all, why does it turn men into monsters.”

From their waist the armoured figure withdrew a vaguely pistol-shaped device and pointed it at the sky. With the pull of a trigger, the pair inside the crater were shrouded in a thick smokescreen that crackled with energy. When that smoke cleared, the two had vanished. That left Nebula all alone on a street that looked like a warzone.

With a sigh, she returned to the bench where she’d left her ‘care package’, and placed the strange bottle in the hardcase. The moment she removed the two bottles attached to her belt—what the stranger referred to as the Build System—the armour dispersed into motes of light. The weight of the bottles that had been on the straps at her hips transferred into her pockets, and finally the belt released itself.

She put all of it back into the hardcase and shut it. She then transferred the case and laptop into the messenger bag, where she found a surprise: a quality lab coat in lavender, and a note on a sheet of paper. There was an emblem on the breast pocket of the coat that struck her as very familiar. Finally, she moved her class schedule and padlock into the bag as well.

Putting on the coat and slinging the bag across her torso, Nebula began to walk back to the group home. It was gonna be a long walk, so she examined the note. I wonder what it’s about.

Dear Ms. Moonlight

My name is Argyle Starshine, and I am the proprietor of the Brighthouse Café. Your name came up in a discussion with one of our regulars, and from there I came to know of your story. One of our waitresses, and one of my daughter’s best friends, is no stranger to amnesia. Since she is like a second daughter, the similarity between your story and hers resonated with me.

Since you are starting from zero in a new school, we have chosen to sponsor the furtherment of your education. At first my wife and I considered simply donating the bag and all of the school supplies one might need, but then one of our employees volunteered to donate her old college laptop. Attached to this note is a gift card with what should be enough to get you started for the semester.

Although you are not obliged, I hope that you will consider stopping by the cafe some time. We all would very much like to meet you in person.

Sincerely,

Argyle Starshine

Owner of the Brighthouse Café

Author's Note

I wonder if that’s natural, or if she dyes her hair to match her name?

This was originally written as 'I wonder if the carpet matches the drapes?' I however chose to change that because it felt too vulgar.

On unusual quotation marks:
« »: The use of guillements is intended to indicate call-outs from drivers (see Below) or rider weapons. These are an aspect present in the show intended both as an interest hook to call attention, as well as the obvious "We want to sell toys angle." It wouldn't be a Kamen rider fic without its callouts. When the secondary rider is introduced, the call-outs will become colour-coded.
「」: In Korean, Chinese, and Japanese, these marks are used for quotation just as we use the standard quotation marks. Although not present in this chapter, dialogue enclosed in corner brackets will indicate that the speaker is speaking in ~~Japanese~~ Neighponese.

What is a driver?
Simply put, a Kamen Rider's transformation belt is typically referred to as a driver, a trait that began in the 2003 series Kamen Rider Faiz. Transformation belts are sometimes technologically based, while some have more arcane origins, or some are even a mix of the two. They usually work in tandem with various trinkets/gimmicks that allow for a rider to adjust their parameters or become stronger.

The driver that the yet-to-be christened Kamen Rider Karasu is the Build Driver, appropriated from the series this fic takes heavy inspiration from.

Its primary transformation trinkets, currently referred to in the story simply as bottles, are known as Fullbotles. These devices are containment vessels for purified 'Nebula Gas' [which Nebby will be completely enthused about when she discovers this fact], which can produce unique effects when used with rider weapons or the Build Driver, or grant limited metaphysical boons if held and shaken while not transformed.

In Kamen Rider Build, Fullbottles come in two main flavours. Biotic and Abiotic; or living and non-living things. A successful transformation with the Build Driver typically needs Abiotic and Biotic components, although by properties explained later in the story, two same-type can be used. When specific pairings of bottles are used, it produces a Best Match, which has a power boost in its applicable areas, although it doesn't mean a scythe is gonna become effective against a Strong Smash.

Karasu will be continuing that trend using the two halves theme, although I will primarily be focusing on a more narrower spectrum of 'life-forms' and 'weapons'. Best Matches in this story will contain references, and it is possible for a bottle to have more than one Best Match. This will also tie into something not uncommon in the Kamen Rider crossover movies: Legacy Rider trinkets, which grants a rider the powers of one from another series. For example, perhaps Fox/Magnum would be a best match...

The story will not be making use of the Sclash Driver, so expect some wild surprises where Fullbottles are concerned. Especially since we don't have Misora Isurugi and her special bracelet to purify the Nebula Gas extracted from a Smash.

Smash!
This chapter was almost named 'Welcome to Smash!'
That is because it serves as an introduction to the creatures.

The Smash are humans who have been injected with the Nebula Gas as part of [REDACTED]'s experiments. Nebula Gas is able to trigger rapid cell division and turn a human into a monster. Each Smash is the basis for an equivalent Fullbottle. A Smash has superhuman abilities, but possess little to no human consciousness.

The Smash fought by Nebula in this chapter is a variation on the Strong Smash. We will not be following the show's order, and since I am taking my own twists where Fullbottles are concerned, there may even be smash not depicted on that wiki page.

Who do you think will become the secondary rider several chapters from now? Will they be a half-and-half rider like Nebula, or do you think they will have a special adaptor for their own Build Driver that will let them focus on training with just one Fullbottle, as did Build's deuteragonist, Ryuga Banjo?

Edit: Yes, AI music is typically gross; finding a song that I felt met the vibe, however proved difficult, and then that popped up in my feed last night.