As the two walked down the cracked sidewalk, the late afternoon air thick with exhaust fumes and the distant smell of street food, they saw a raggedly dressed man up ahead clutching a sack of money and a handgun. He was running frantically down the sidewalk, his torn jacket flapping behind him, with several police officers in hot pursuit. Their heavy footsteps echoed off the buildings as pedestrians pressed themselves against storefronts.
A classic sign of the times, John thought with a sigh. Probably another person driven to desperation.
He glanced over and saw Flash's eyes light up, his muscles tensing as if he were about to charge in like he was breaking through the defensive line. John quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him into an alleyway, the brick walls closing around them and muffling the street noise.
"Are you out of your mind?" John hissed, his grip tight on Flash's sleeve. "Do you have a death wish?!"
"But... aren't we supposed to be superheroes?" Flash asked, looking dazed, his voice small and confused in the narrow space.
"Do you really think you're a superhero right now? You're still a normal person! One shot and you're dead," John said, his voice sharp enough to cut through Flash's heroic fantasies. "And use your brain for a second. That robber is alone and on foot. Do you really think the police can't handle him? You'd just be making things worse! Besides, look at him—he's clearly been pushed to the edge. He's not going to shoot unless someone pushes him further. This is a situation best left to the professionals."
Flash's shoulders sagged as reality crashed over his dreams of glory. "Oh. Is that so?"
"Being a hero isn't a game, Flash," John continued, his tone softening slightly as he saw the disappointment clouding the other boy's face. "You can't just jump into every crime you see. There are thousands of cases in New York; you'd burn yourself out in a week. If you rely on raw power without thinking, then that power becomes a curse. The moment you face a darkness your strength can't overcome, you're destined to fail."
A few moments later, they heard a triumphant shout as the police successfully tackled and apprehended the robber down the street. The metallic click of handcuffs followed, carried on the evening breeze.
John looked at Flash, who was staring at the scene with a thoughtful expression, his earlier enthusiasm replaced by something deeper. He knew these were big concepts for him to grasp right now.
"Come on, young Agent Venom," John said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You've still got a lot to learn."
"Okay, John," Flash replied, shaking his head in amazement. "You seem to know so much."
"Perhaps."
"Oh, right! John, what else did you see with that future-sight of yours?" Flash's voice took on an eager, almost pleading tone.
"Isn't knowing your own destiny enough?"
"Come on, just tell me something!"
"Are you really that curious?"
"Of course! Who isn't curious about the future?" Flash insisted, practically bouncing on his toes.
"I am," John said mysteriously, his eyes growing distant. "Because that's a secret. Being too greedy isn't a good thing, Flash. And besides," he added, looking up at the sun beginning its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold, "who can ever really know what the future holds?"
"Hey, look, John! It's Gwen," Flash said, pointing across the street with sudden excitement. "I saw her looking at you a few times in class today. You think she likes you?"
"She's probably just curious," John said, shaking his head as he followed Flash's gaze. "She saw me stop you this morning, which is pretty different from my usual quiet self."
Across the intersection, Gwen Stacy saw them too, her blonde hair catching the late afternoon light like spun gold. She frowned, her textbook pressed against her chest, wondering how the school bully and the quiet kid he'd confronted were now walking together peacefully after school. The sight was so unexpected it made her pause on the sidewalk.
As she watched, a windowless van pulled up and stopped in front of her with a harsh screech of brakes on asphalt. The vehicle looked wrong somehow—too clean, too purposeful for the neighborhood. Gwen stared at it for a moment, a knot of unease forming in her stomach. Just as she took a step back, her sneakers scraping against the concrete, the side door slid open with a metallic bang.
Several large men in dark clothing rushed out like predators emerging from a den. Before she could even draw breath to scream, one covered her mouth with a chemical-smelling handkerchief that burned her nostrils and made her eyes water. The others grabbed her arms with rough hands and shoved her into the vehicle, her textbook tumbling to the sidewalk with a dull thud.
Gwen struggled desperately, her muffled cries lost in the symphony of city noise—car horns, distant sirens, the chatter of oblivious pedestrians. Through her rapidly blurring vision, she waved frantically toward John and Flash with her free hand, her movements becoming weaker as the chemical took hold, but the distance was too great. They could never make it in time.
Flash's jaw dropped, his mouth hanging open in shock. He pointed uselessly in Gwen's direction, his hand trembling, unable to form words as his brain struggled to process what he'd just witnessed.
John's face darkened, ice-cold realization washing over him like a bucket of freezing water. What the hell is going on? Gwen's the Police Captain's daughter! The local gangs wouldn't dare touch her. Even if they did, they wouldn't hurt her... she should be fine.
He hesitated, his mind racing through possibilities and consequences while precious seconds ticked away. Should I gamble on that? Gamble that she'll be okay? Gwen is a good person... There's no time. What can I do? I don't have the Kamen Rider's power yet. I can't do anything!
The image of Gwen's desperate wave for help flashed through his mind, and his resolve hardened like steel forged in flame.
The Knight Watch. I have to try!
John ripped the watch from his pocket, gripping it tightly in both hands until his knuckles went white. The metal felt warm against his palm, almost alive. "I'm going after them," he said, his voice filled with determination that surprised even him. "If I'm really meant to be a Kamen Rider, then please... let this work!"
The moment he made his choice, the Knight Watch flared with brilliant white light that made both boys shield their eyes. The two hands spun rapidly with mechanical precision, clicking like a countdown to destiny, and a powerful, electronic voice echoed from the device: "KAMEN RIDER—KUUGA: GROWING FORM!" The rider's face on the watch became sharp and clear, no longer the blurry image from before.
"There's hope!" John exclaimed, adrenaline surging through his veins like liquid fire. He turned to Flash, whose eyes were wide with shock and awe. "Quick, find a payphone and call the police! Tell them Captain Stacy's daughter has been kidnapped!"
"What about you?" Flash's voice cracked with worry.
"I'm going after that van!"
John scanned the street desperately and spotted an old motorcycle parked by the curb, its elderly owner standing nearby watching the commotion with concerned eyes. John ran over, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"Sir, I need to borrow this!" he said quickly, words tumbling over each other in his urgency. "My friend was just kidnapped! I'll bring it right back here tomorrow, I promise!"
The old man looked from John's desperate, honest face to the retreating van, now almost out of sight. Something in the boy's expression—the raw determination, the fear for another's safety—convinced him. "Alright, kid," he said, tossing him the keys. They jangled as John caught them with trembling hands. "Go get 'em. Just bring my bike back in one piece!"
"John, be careful!" Flash shouted from behind him, his voice echoing off the surrounding buildings.
The sun hung low in the sky, painting everything in shades of orange and deep red. John kick-started the motorcycle, the engine roaring to life beneath him with a satisfying growl. He gave a quick thumbs-up over his shoulder to Flash and sped off, the wind immediately whipping at his hair and clothes.
John gunned the engine, chasing the van as it weaved through city traffic like a black shark cutting through water. Exhaust fumes burned his throat, and the noise of the city—honking horns, screeching tires, shouting voices—created a chaotic symphony around him. But the old motorcycle was no match for the van's horsepower, and his own riding skills were average at best. He managed to keep up in the dense city streets, weaving between cars and trucks with desperate determination, but as they reached the outskirts where traffic thinned and the buildings gave way to emptier roads, the gap began to widen.
There's no other choice. He knew transforming would drain his stamina, and he had wanted to wait until he caught up to them, but he was running out of time. The van was becoming a dark speck in the distance, taking Gwen further away with each passing second. He had to transform now and hope he could summon the mechanical attachment for his bike he remembered from the show.
John raised his right hand, holding the Knight Watch up toward the setting sun. As the sun's golden halo enveloped the watch, casting long shadows on the asphalt behind him, he pressed the button on top. An intense light erupted from the device, overpowering even the sun's rays and casting strange, shifting patterns of light and shadow across the road.
A firm, resolute voice shouted from his lips, surprising him with its power and conviction.
"Transform!"
A driver belt, black and silver with two slots, materialized out of thin air and fastened around his waist with a satisfying mechanical click. John slammed the Knight Watch into the right-hand slot, feeling it lock into place. An arc of crackling energy flashed across the driver's central screen, and the world seemed to hold its breath.
"TRANSFORM! KAMEN RIDER... KUUGA! GROWING FORM!"
A massive, ethereal clock face appeared behind John, expanding as it spun with otherworldly light that made the very air shimmer. A torrent of energy poured from the dial, forming pale white ribbons flecked with gold that wrapped around his body like living silk, each strand humming with power.
Golden horns sprouted from his helmet, catching and reflecting the last rays of sunlight. Crimson compound eyes ignited with inner fire, seeing the world with crystal clarity. Piece by piece, sleek black and white armor materialized over him, each component locking into place with mechanical precision and the satisfying sound of advanced technology engaging. In a final flash of light that momentarily blinded any potential witnesses, Kamen Rider had arrived in a new world.
The moment the transformation completed, John felt a tremendous surge of power coursing through every fiber of his being. His vision was razor-sharp, able to pick out details at impossible distances—he could see the van clearly now, miles ahead, could even make out the license plate. His hearing was incredibly enhanced—the van's engine note, the whisper of wind over his armor, even what might have been heartbeats from inside the distant vehicle. It was like going from being sick his whole life to feeling perfectly healthy, his entire body buzzing with electric vitality and potential.
Now, I need to summon the bike attachment, he thought, focusing his will and reaching out with his newfound power, but nothing happened. The motorcycle remained stubbornly ordinary beneath him, just metal and rubber and mechanical parts. Okay, guess that's not an option yet.
Thankfully, his enhanced reflexes and perception dramatically improved his riding skills, allowing him to push the old bike to its absolute limits without fear of losing control. Every bump in the road, every slight shift in weight and balance was perfectly calculated and compensated for. He could even feel some of his energy flowing into the motorcycle, giving it a much-needed boost as the engine roared with renewed power and the speedometer climbed higher than it had any right to. He followed the van from what he hoped was a safe distance, his enhanced vision tracking it even as darkness began to fall across the landscape.
The hunt had begun, and somewhere ahead, Gwen's fate hung in the balance.