A War of Phantoms

As is my usual, a few disclaimers before we start. While this story takes place in the same setting as my other stories "A Tournament of Colors" and "A Wolfpack's Epilogue", you do not need to read those in order to enjoy or understand this one. All characters involved in any romantic or sexual activity in this story are consenting adults over 18 years of age. There are scenes of violent combat in this story, but the violence is not in any way connected to any of the sex scenes.

The characters and concepts in this story are my creation, any resemblance to real people and locations is unintended and coincidental. However, the referenced locale of Galena, Illinois is a very real town, and a lovely place to visit -- as is the very real "Root Beer Revelry", a wonderful business there that I heartily suggest giving your time and attention to if you're ever in the area. The root beer and root beer floats they serve there really are that damn good. The owner of that store knows nothing about this story, they didn't ask me to plug Root Beer Revelry, I'm just including it as a fun side detail for one brief and minor scene because I have fond memories of the place from a few years back.

Without any further ado, on with the show!

A War of Phantoms

By MisterWildCard

It was the strangest conversation I'd ever had -- and I've had some odd ones, don't even get me started down that road just yet. Between some rather interesting ex-girlfriends, my time in the U.S. Army Rangers... but I digress.

The figure across the table gave my brother and I a smile. His skin seemed to have an odd silver color to it, almost metallic, but I chalked it up at first to the restaurant's lighting. "I am offering you a chance to earn that which you both most desire."

I stared at him, and my brother Morris snorted before he replied. "The only thing I want is to survive. My oncologist says I've got six months, tops. The only reason I'm here at all is because you promised us a free lunch at my favorite restaurant, and claimed you had something that could help. So unless you've got a bag of miracles handy, you're wasting your time, Mister Kanzaki. And mine, and time's kind of precious to me right now."

"Time and a miracle are exactly what I can offer. I can remove your inoperable brain tumor, Morris Vigilanco. I can give you your life back."

I put my right hand on my brother's shoulder. "Mister Kanzaki, do you not understand what 'inoperable' means? There's no way to get it out." I clenched my damaged left hand, concentrating on not letting my rising anger get the better of me, keeping my voice at a low whisper so I didn't make a scene. No sense in ruining the meal of anyone around us. "It's in there so damn deep that even if the surgery didn't kill him outright, they'd have to cut out so much brain matter to reach it that he'd be a drooling vegetable. If he's lucky. Our family is out of options and out of time, what don't you understand?"

"Your brother is out of neither, Sergeant Morgan Vigilanco. Allow me to demonstrate." Our host's eyes suddenly blazed with gold light -- and everything around us stopped.

Morris and I looked around the Milwaukee restaurant. All around us, time and motion were halted, and it was eerily silent. Fifteen feet to my right, a waiter in mid-trip hung in the air, his mouth open wide with horror as a plate of loose spaghetti hovered just outside his grasp, the mass of noodles looking like some blood-soaked tentacled horror, launching itself at fresh prey.

Kanzaki folded his hands in front of him. His smile didn't reach his eyes. "You're aware of the dimensional incursions your world suffers on a regular basis?"

The silent world around us was seriously creeping me out, and I leaned back in my chair. "Yeah. The Plex corporation has those 'Strike Force' teams all over the place to repel the invaders before too many come through and try to 'conquer the planet' or some stupid shit."

Morris nodded. "My friends and I used to dress up as Strike Force Olympus when we were kids."

"My home dimension harbors no such interest. We find your world far too interesting and would much rather observe it from afar than take direct involvement, much less anything so crass as military conquest. Thus we have come to... let us say... an arrangement with your world, and with our Plex friends."

"And my brother dying of brain cancer fits into this how, exactly?" I watched as Morris reached out and gently touched the arm of the guy sitting at the next table over. The frozen stranger's arm moved slightly, but he otherwise didn't react. After a moment's thought, Morris grabbed the midair plate and a fork, pushed the hovering spaghetti back onto it in a relatively neat pile, and then pulled the mid-fall waiter to his feet, putting the plate in the man's open hands. Satisfied with his work, my little brother sat back down next to me, but then stood up again and turned the waiter's fedora hat around to face backwards, just for a harmless giggle.

What did he do to deserve cancer? I mean, no one deserves that kind of hell, but when I'd watch Morris go out of his way to help people like that, it just really hit home that the good people in this world really never get what they deserve. Morris deserved everything, and he was going to be cut down before his life could even really begin in earnest. He was only twenty-three, for God's sake. Not that I believed in God anymore.

Kanzaki gestured around him as Morris was helping the waiter. "My people and I can alter reality in small but significant ways. Our technology is far, far beyond yours. This localized time manipulation is but one example." He pointed at a light fixture, and it suddenly transformed into a pigeon, which flapped once in confusion and then halted like everything else around us.

"I'm in a position to grant people from your world anything they might desire. Such as the permanent removal of your brother's disease. In fact, I will offer the two of you a 'down payment' right now." Kanzaki reached out with lightning speed and touched my brother's forehead before either of us could react. With a flash of light, there was a small mound of blood and flesh sitting in my brother's empty water glass.

Morris shook as if suddenly dizzy and grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself. I took hold of my brother's shoulders, staring daggers at Kanzaki. "What did you do to him?"

Morris looked down at the grotesque horror in his glass, his eyes regaining focus, "Is that...?"

"Your malignant tumor, yes. Safely and cleanly excised from the inside of your skull, with no harm to the surrounding brain matter."

My brother turned to me. "I... I think he really did it! I feel normal again! It doesn't hurt anymore! Oh my god! I have to get to Doctor Korby right now!" He stood up -- and suddenly froze just like everyone else in the restaurant.

Kanzaki turned to face me again. "Now, your brother might find this next part upsetting, so for the moment we'll just continue our conversation without him. But I'd think this helps to prove our sincerity as well as our capabilities. Do I have your attention, Morgan?"

I looked up at my brother, his eyes wide and shining, smiling -- really smiling, not putting on a brittle show for friends and family -- for the first time in months. I'd do anything to protect that smile. Anything. I turned back to our mysterious host. "I'm listening -- and I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. If that's the 'down payment', what comes next?"

"Sergeant, you are a lethal combatant, a skillset we value quite highly. I am giving you a chance to fight for your brother's survival. If you are, as the saying goes, the 'last one standing' in a coming conflict, then we will give you anything you desire. While I've removed his tumor for now. it will grow back within a year, as such tumors are inclined to do. If you enter and win my competition, then I will remove the disease from his genetic code entirely, allowing him to live a long and healthy normal life."

I held up my left hand. "While I appreciate the compliment, I was honorably discharged for a reason." I waggled my thumb and my index finger, the only digits remaining on that hand. "Does the phrase 'IED' mean anything to you? Shrapnel sliced off three of my fingers a couple years back. Can't properly grip a weapon. Kind of a problem if you want me to be fighting."

The silver man snorted. "Considering what you've seen me demonstrate so far, did you really think I wasn't aware of this, or didn't have a solution?" His hand snapped out at lightning speed, but this time I saw it coming and caught his wrist with my good hand. "What are you doing, Kanzaki?" His skin was cool to the touch.

"Your speed and reflexes are indeed impressive, most humans shouldn't be able to do that. Your files don't give you enough credit. But do release me -- I am applying a treatment to your fingers. Another 'down payment', much as I helped your brother."

I let go, and he tapped his finger against the back of my left hand. I felt the pinch of a needle -- and suddenly my hand felt like it was on fire. I watched in shock as the three stumps glowed red and burst forward into new fingers in a matter of seconds. It was the weirdest feeling -- all the more because it didn't hurt at all. I felt intense heat -- but it didn't actually hurt even though it seemed like it should, if that makes sense. A moment later, even the heat faded away, leaving me with a functional left hand again.

As I flexed and waggled my restored digits, Kanzaki reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a smartphone inside a black protective case. There was a symbol on the back of the case that I didn't recognize -- some kind of bird, maybe? He set it on the table between us. "If you accept this, you will have two tasks to occupy your future. The first will be as the newest member of Plex's 'Phantom Rider' corps. I will give you means of transportation and combat. You will be deployed by agents of Plex to various parts of this continent to track down and destroy remnants of previous incursions. Other-dimensional soldiers and creatures bred for war, that sort of gauche thing. There may even be times when you are called to join forces with the aforementioned Strike Forces, although I understand that Plex prefers to keep the Phantom Riders out of the public eye."

I looked down at the box but didn't touch it. "And the second task?"

"You will be fighting for your survival against other Phantom Riders. Twelve Riders in total will be recruited this year. You are the ninth, and I have several other stops to make after this. All of them, like you, have an otherwise-unattainable goal to fight for. As they go about their remnant-hunting duties and other personal affairs, they will be searching for each other -- and for you. And they will try to kill you. As I noted before, only the last one standing by this time next year will earn their reward. In your case, if you are the final survivor, then your brother will live, free of disease and pain. If you fall in battle against another Rider, or against one of the incursion remnants, then your brother will die within the year as nature retakes its course."

"Kill or be killed."

"Yes. You must fight in order to survive, Morgan. We will be watching you and the other Riders constantly. If you attempt to abandon this situation, renounce your new powers, renounce this latest iteration of our annual 'Rider War' -- then you will die by my hand, and your brother will be killed by his returning inoperable tumor. But if you fight and win, you will live, you will receive what to your people would be a true miracle, and we will trouble you no further as you return to whatever normal life you wish to pursue."

I stared at the strange phone. "And if I refuse to be recruited?"

"Then I will find a replacement elsewhere, someone equally desperate, equally interesting, but more amenable to potential solutions. And sadly, Morris will die within the year." He tapped the rim of the glass containing the old tumor, and the diseased flesh and glass suddenly burst into blue flame before dissolving into grey ash on the pristine white tablecloth.

"Damned if I do, damned if I don't. Not much of a choice, Kanzaki."

The silver-skinned mystery man gave another mirthless smile. "I think we're being quite generous, Morgan. As a Phantom Rider, you and your brother at least have a chance. Before tonight, his death was one hundred percent certain. Also, you have your left hand back."

The bastard had a point. I reached out -- but my hand paused just above the device. "Why are you doing this? If all this is so easy for you, you could just cure cancer and regrow amputated limbs for everyone on the planet, right? Doesn't seem very nice."

The smile fell away. "I have never once claimed to be 'nice', Morgan. We are doing this because the moment your hand touches that Advent Phone, you will become our entertainment. My people do enjoy the drama of your world, the conflicts and desperate lengths that humans will go to, to get what they want. Your struggles, and those of your fellow Phantom Riders, will be seen by countless beings back home, all endlessly fascinated by how you choose to go about all this. Will you form tenuous alliances with other Riders? Will you overcome by brute force, clever strategies, deceit, or some other methods? How will you adapt to your newfound abilities and weapons? What heartbreak and triumph will you feel deep in your heart as you fight for your life? All of this and more is exquisite to my people. Your life will become art, Morgan. We will shed tears at your suffering, and cheer for your victories. Our children will venerate you as a dashing hero or a cruel villain, depending on your actions."

He gestured to the 'Advent Phone'. "Every year, we devise a new theme to the powers that we grant, to keep things novel for our audience. This year, all Phantom Riders' powers are fashioned after the facts and folklore surrounding various species of birds from your world. Last year's theme was Ninjas, the year before that, video games, and then before that we used the iconography of the entertainment your people call 'The Circus.' That one didn't go over as well, the 'Clown' archetype caused a great deal of distress and confusion among our children, but they can't all be award-winners." He turned the box sideways, so that I could now see the symbol more clearly. "Your powerset will be that of the Hummingbird."

I barked out a laugh. "Small, weak, and constantly drinking from flowers? Is this some sort of handicap?"

"Hummingbirds are much more than they seem, Sergeant. They are faster than the eye can follow, and capable of feats of aerial agility that none can match, among other things. If anything, I believe you are quite lucky to have access to these powers, and that they complement your speed and reflexes quite well. If I were permitted to place wagers, I would put sizable money on you to be one of the final three of this year's story, and possibly the eventual victor. You have all the tools you need for success." Kanzaki sat back, and this time his smile seemed to have a little warmth to it. "So. The time has come to choose. Shall you take up the mantle of a Phantom Rider? Or shall you watch your brother die a slow and wasting death, drugged into oblivion and to no avail as your world's primitive medicine flails against the inevitable?"

This time I didn't hesitate. I grabbed the phone, clutching my brother's new lifeline in my white-knuckled hand.

Kanzaki sighed happily and gestured for me to follow as he stood up. "Before you rejoin your world's normal flow of time, come with me outside. I will give you some brief instruction, and then you can take your brother to his doctor, who will no doubt make many amusing noises of confusion."

The street outside the restaurant was just as still and silent as everywhere else, but Kanzaki paid no mind to it. "First, a small formality." He gestured at the phone in my hand, and I felt a sharp sting in my palm. I turned the device over, and a small needle on the phone's underside was withdrawing back inside the case, stained with my blood. "That advent phone is now connected to your unique genetic code. No one else will be able to use it in any way. Note that while it is very, very durable and never needs to be turned off or recharged, it is not impervious to harm. Should it be destroyed, your life is immediately forfeit. If you do end up being the final survivor and victor, you will be permitted to keep or destroy it as you see fit with no further penalty."

As he said this, the screen booted up to show the stylized hummingbird icon that was on the back of the phone's case. This faded and was replaced by a fairly standard-looking smartphone screen -- except that there were already a few apps present. A phone icon, a texting app, one for the Plex corporation, something that looked like a GPS map, one that had a picture of a motorcycle on it, and another that had that hummingbird symbol on it. "A motorcycle app?"

"As I said, you will be furnished with transportation. Activate it."

I tapped the screen, and my phone intoned in a deep voice, FLYER ADVENT. On the street right in front of me, a sleek motorcycle appeared out of thin air, as if someone from a Star Trek show had just "beamed" it down to me. Unlike most motorcycles, it was a recumbent design, where I would sit down and lean back against the seat, feet forward rather than straddling the bike. There was a sleek helmet resting on the seat cushion, along with a pair of boots and a padded leather bodysuit. The bike and the clothes were all black and chrome, but otherwise this vehicle was a dead ringer for a certain famous fictional motorcycle. "Is the movie AKIRA really popular back where you come from?"

Kanzaki raised an eyebrow, clearly not catching the reference. "This design makes the flight mode much safer overall. It can be used as a standard motorcycle, but at your command the compartment can enclose you and extend wings to become a small aircraft with enough fuel to fly, much like a bird, for several hours. We do so enjoy keeping to a design theme. When not in use, or if damaged, you can dismiss the Phantom Flyer back to its dimensional storage. It can be recalled again later, with all damage repaired and fuel restored. You can even use the app's settings to change its color and other cosmetic details, if you like."

He gestured to my waist. "Tap the hummingbird icon, and then place the phone's screen against your body below your navel." I did, and this time the phone's voice said something different: RIDER ADVENT -- ENGAGED. Straps sprouted from the phone's sides and wrapped around my waist to become a belt with the phone as a buckle, and the belt suddenly emitted a bright white light.

I was standing in a chaotic storm of color. Pieces of futuristic armor materialized around me and clamped onto my body, squeezing tight as they molded themselves to my shape. As each limb was enclosed, I could feel a current of energy surging through my body, an endorphin rush that escalated as more of me disappeared under the armor. My hands flexed inside their new gloves, feeling impossibly strong, like I might be able to crush stone into powder with my grip.

As more armor plates slammed into my torso and back to fuse together into a tight breastplate, my breath gasped out of me, but the new air I breathed in somehow felt as invigorating as a starved man eating food for the first time in weeks. Lastly, a helmet clamped around my head, surrounding me in darkness for a moment before my field of vision lit up to show an array of status readings and gauges off to the sides while showing everything around me in insanely sharp clarity. There was even a little "picture in picture" window in one corner labeled "rear view", showing Kanzaki standing behind me and nodding his head in satisfaction.