DC X Rider Ch 151

The dust settled, revealing a scene of utter devastation. Twisted metal groaned under the weight of collapsed ceilings, and sparks flew from severed wires. The air hung thick with the acrid scent of smoke and burnt chemicals. Haruka, still in his Kiva form, deactivated the Shazam lightning, the familiar gothic armor returning just as quickly. He surveyed the wreckage.

Robin, surprisingly, didn't launch into a tirade about Bane's escape. He simply stood amidst the destruction, his gaze hard. "Bane will not get away with this," he said, his voice a low growl. "I will find him, and I will make him answer for his crimes."

Haruka nodded, but his attention was drawn to the periphery. The henchmen… some lay still, while others moaned in pain, clutching burns and broken limbs. A grim reminder of the cost of this fight. At least the explosion seemed to have done its job. He scanned the area. The distinctive green vials and makeshift lab equipment were all but obliterated. Thank god for that. He really didn't want to deal with more Venom freaks running around National City.

"We need to get these guys some help," Haruka said, gesturing toward the injured thugs.

Robin scoffed. "They chose their path. Let them face the consequences."

Haruka frowned. "Even so, we can't just leave them to die." I get it, Damian. You were raised by assassins. But still…

He thought back to the fight. Robin had held his own. Damn, the kid was good. But what about everything else? Would Robin keep going down this path? Would Haruka? He pushed the thoughts aside. There were more pressing matters to handle. More importantly, what would everyone think of his involvement here if everything went south again?

Haruka turned back to Robin to discuss the next step, but found the space beside him empty. The young vigilante was gone. Again. He looked around and quickly assessed the situation - and then he muttered under his breath, "Do you really have to disappear when I'm not looking?"

The paramedics were on their way, but minutes mattered. Haruka knelt beside a groaning henchman, carefully checking for broken bones. The guy flinched away, muttering something about the "Bat." Haruka ignored the comment and gently stabilized a clearly dislocated shoulder.

I'm no doctor, he thought, but I can at least make sure they don't bleed out.

He moved from one injured thug to the next, offering what aid he could. Bandaging wounds, applying pressure, just trying to ease their suffering until real help arrived. It wasn't much, but it was something. With the sirens wailing in the distance, growing louder, Haruka decided his time was up. He needed to disappear before the cops showed up. He quickly moved toward the alley.

…

Bane crashes through the emergency exit door of the abandoned factory, Blockbuster lumbering close behind. Dust and debris rain down on them as they stumble into a dimly lit loading bay.

"Fool!" Bane bellows, turning to Blockbuster. "Your incompetence allowed them to escape! We had them cornered!"

Blockbuster, his massive frame shaking with rage, retorts, "Incompetence? It was that meddling Kamen Rider! He's the one who ruined everything!"

"Excuses!" Bane snarls, his voice laced with venom. "You rely too much on brute force and not enough on strategy. A true warrior anticipates his enemy's moves."

"Strategy? What strategy? I saw a hero, I hit him. What more is there?" Blockbuster clenches his fists, and his face is turning purple. "I should've crushed him when I had the chance."

"You had the chance, and you failed!" Bane snaps back. "Your failure has cost us valuable resources and drawn unwanted attention."

"Oh yeah? What about you?" Blockbuster said, his voice growing louder with each word. "All you do is yap. At least I get things done! You're not the 'hard rock' you claim to be!"

Their argument escalates, filling the loading bay with angry shouts and threats. They both point fingers, laying blame on each other.

Suddenly, a high-pitched, sing-song voice cuts through the tension.

"Now, now, gentlemen! Is this any way to conduct a business meeting?"

Bane and Blockbuster turn to see the source of the voice. Standing in the center of the loading bay is a small, wooden robot. It's styled to resemble Pee-wee Herman, complete with a tiny grey suit, a red bow tie, and a wide, unsettling grin. Its eyes, two black buttons, seem to stare right through them.

Bane raises an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "What is this… contraption?"

"Oh, this is just me!" the Pee-wee robot chirps, its voice strangely amplified. "Or rather, it's my representative. You can call me… Toyman!"

Blockbuster scoffs. "Toyman? What kind of name is that? And what do you want with us?"

"Why, I'm here to propose an alliance, of course!" the robot replies, tilting its head. "You see, I've been watching your… endeavors with great interest. And I believe that together, we could achieve truly marvelous things!"

Bane narrows his eyes. "An alliance? With a… toy?"

"Don't let the packaging fool you, my friend!" the robot giggles. "I assure you, I'm much more than just a pretty face. I possess the… tools to make our alliance a resounding success. After all, what do you say?"

Bane looks at Blockbuster, and then back at the robot. "And what would be the terms of this alliance?"

"Oh, the terms are quite simple!" the Pee-wee robot exclaims, clapping its wooden hands together. "We work together to eliminate those meddling heroes, Kamen Rider and Supergirl, and then, we share the spoils!"

Blockbuster scoffs. "Share? What do you have to offer that we need?"

The robot smiles again. "Oh, you'd be surprised! Let's just say I have a knack for creating… distractions. And I know a few things that you would want. After all, we all want to win."

Bane folds his arms, his face stern. "We are warriors, not puppets for some… child's game."

"But isn't that exactly what life is?" the robot asks. "A child's game? With simple rules, and even simpler outcomes? What else is life but a game we are all playing?"

"No," Bane says. "We want power, control. We do not want games."

"Games are the first step to ultimate power!" the Pee-wee robot says. "They give way to the things that we seek."

Blockbuster and Bane look at each other, weighing the offer.

"Hmm," Blockbuster says, his voice low. "What kind of toys are we talking about?"

The robot giggles again. "Oh, I have a whole arsenal of fun and games to play! Explosive teddy bears, robotic clowns, deadly puzzles, and so much more!"

Bane sighs. "This is preposterous."

"Think about it," the robot says. "I help you deal with your hero problem, and you can get back to building your empire. Besides, what do you have to lose?"

Blockbuster says, "I don't like taking orders from toys."

"Think about what we can accomplish if we work together," the Pee-wee robot says, tilting its head. "I can provide the toys, you provide the muscle, and Bane… well, you can provide the brains!"

Bane considers this, his eyes narrowing. He recognizes the potential in Toyman's chaos and the power that could come from it. If he could control this madman, he could turn Gotham into his personal playground.

"Alright," Bane says, his voice low and dangerous. "We have a deal."

"Excellent!" the Pee-wee robot cries, clapping its wooden hands. "Now, let's get to work. We have a lot of fun to plan!"

The Pee-wee robot spins around, its wide grin unsettling as it prepares to lay out its plans.

…

Megan strolls down the bustling streets of National City, a kaleidoscope of human activity swirling around her. She feels the sun warm on her bright green skin, the familiar rhythm of the city a comforting backdrop to her own internal adjustments. Earth is so… different. More chaotic, more vibrant, more everything than anything she ever experienced on Mars.

It is a good different.

She focuses on the small details: the smell of street vendor hot dogs mixing with exhaust fumes, the cacophony of car horns and chattering voices, the way humans seem to always be glued to small, rectangular devices. It's all so new, and yet, she finds a strange sort of comfort in it. She fits here, in a way she never truly did anywhere else.

A prickle at the back of her mind stops her. A feeling, familiar yet unwelcome, sends a shiver down her spine. It's a psychic presence, strong and distinctly Martian. But not Green Martian.

White Martian.

Megan whirls around, her eyes scanning the crowd. A tall, angular figure emerges from the throng, his chalky white skin a stark contrast to the brightly colored clothing of the humans around him. His red eyes lock onto hers, and a wave of psychic energy washes over her, a mental voice cutting through the noise of the city.

M'gann.

She instinctively throws up mental shields, trying to block him out, but his presence is too strong. He's inside her head, whether she wants him there or not.

"Are you well, sister?" The White Martian asks, his voice cold and formal even in her mind.

"I am well," she replies, her own mental voice tight with apprehension. "What do you want?"

He steps closer, his gaze unwavering. "We have come a long way, M'gann. We have followed you across the stars."

Fear begins to gnaw at her. "Who is 'we'?"

"Those who share our blood. Those who remember what we are meant to be." He pauses, a hint of disapproval coloring his mental tone. "We know you have taken refuge here, among these… humans. We know you masquerade as one of the Green caste."

Megan bristles, anger warring with her fear. "I am not masquerading. I am one of the Green caste."

He scoffs, a dismissive ripple in her mind. "A convenient fiction. A pathetic attempt to deny your true self. We have come to offer you a choice, M'gann. Join us. Reclaim your birthright. Help us shape this world in our image."

"Shape it? What are you planning?"

His mental voice hardens. "We have plans, M'gann. Plans to bring order to this chaos. Plans to claim this world for ourselves. Earth will become our new home, our new stronghold."

Megan's heart pounds in her chest. "You can't do that! This is their home! These people—"

"Are weak. They are disorganized. They squander their potential. We will guide them. We will rule them. And you, M'gann, will stand by our side." He extends a mental hand, an invitation, a command. "Join us, sister. Embrace your destiny."

She recoils, both physically and mentally. "Never. I won't let you. I am not like you. I won't let you harm these people."

His red eyes narrow. "Foolish girl. You cling to sentimentality. You choose weakness over strength. It matters not. We will succeed, with you or without you. When we are done, we will leave this planet. All that will be left are ashes.”

A chill runs down Megan's spine. The words, so calmly delivered, carry a weight of threat she can't ignore.

He offers one last, cold thought. Think about what I said. Do not resist. We are coming to your new world, whether you want it or not.

The White Martian turns and melts back into the crowd, disappearing as quickly as he appeared. The psychic presence fades, leaving Megan alone, adrift in a sea of human faces, the weight of his words pressing down on her.