Chapter 17

Haruka sat at his desk, his eyes fixed on the news report flickering across his phone screen. The media was abuzz with speculation about the confrontation between the Kamen Rider and the armed assailants the previous night.

"Witnesses report the masked vigilante, Kamen Rider, engaging in a fierce battle with a group of heavily armed men on the streets of National City," the reporter's voice echoed from the device.

Haruka felt a knot forming in his stomach as he watched the footage, seeing his alter ego in action. The news anchors were already speculating about the potential for a gang war to erupt in the city, and Haruka knew he had to be extra cautious.

With the bounty on his head, he couldn't afford to be seen in public, lest he draw unwanted attention and put innocent lives at risk. Haruka gripped his phone tightly, his knuckles turning white.

"Hey, Haruka, did you see the news?" Kara's voice cut through his thoughts, and he looked up to see his friend approaching.

Haruka quickly pocketed his phone, forcing a casual smile. "Uh, yeah, I did. Crazy stuff, huh?"

Haruka nods, his expression unreadable. "Yeah, it's been a wild night." He pauses, wondering if he should say more, but decides against it. The last thing he wants is to draw Kara's suspicion.

Kara's brow furrows with concern. "I hope Kamen Rider is all right. That looked like a pretty intense fight."

Haruka feels a twinge of guilt at Kara's worry. As Kamen Rider, he's put himself in harm's way countless times, but the thought of Kara being afraid for his safety is unsettling. He forces a reassuring smile. "I'm sure he's fine. Kamen Rider can handle himself."

Haruka paused and looked at Kara, noticing the concern etched on her features. The way she spoke made it seem as if she had witnessed the entire confrontation firsthand. Narrowing his eyes, Haruka asked, "Kara, did you... see what happened last night?"

Kara's eyes widened, and she quickly shook her head. "No, no, I didn't see anything. I just, you know, saw the news report like everyone else." Her voice wavered slightly, and Haruka couldn't help but eye her suspiciously.

Haruka could see Kara not looking him in the eye. Haruka knows Kara is hiding something. He was about to question further, but the teacher entered and class began. Haruka decided to keep an eye on Kara, but he did not want to pressure her to give an answer.

Haruka shifted his gaze from Kara to the front of the classroom as Ms. Tanaka started the lesson. He couldn't shake the feeling that Kara was holding something back. Had she seen the confrontation between the Kamen Rider and the armed assailants? His mind raced with the possibilities, but he knew pressing her now would only make her more evasive.

…

In the dimly lit lair of the Black Cobra gang, Snake Head, the ruthless leader, paced back and forth, his orange hair gleaming under the flickering lights. Anger radiated from his every step as he glared at the cowering men before him.

"You incompetent fools!" Snake Head snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "I put a million-dollar bounty on that Kamen Rider's head, and you couldn't even finish the job?"

The men, their faces etched with fear, shifted uncomfortably, their eyes downcast. One of them, a lieutenant with a scar across his face, stepped forward, his voice trembling.

"Boss, we tried, but that Rider was too fast, too strong. We never expected him to be that powerful."

Snake Head's eyes narrowed to slits, and in one swift motion, he grabbed the lieutenant by the collar, yanking him close.

"Excuses, excuses!" he hissed. "I don't care what you expected. All I care about is results, and you've failed me."

With a sudden burst of rage, Snake Head hurled the lieutenant across the room, the man's body slamming against the wall with a sickening thud. The other men flinched, their eyes wide with terror.

"The rest of you better not disappoint me again," Snake Head growled, his gaze sweeping over the cowering men. "Find that Rider, and this time, make sure he doesn't get away."

The men nodded frantically, their voices quivering as they promised to redouble their efforts. Snake Head, his anger still simmering, turned his back on them, his mind already consumed by the need for vengeance.

Snake Head turned to face his lieutenant, his expression calculating.

"Sending more of you idiots after him would be a waste of time," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "I need someone who can actually get the job done."

The lieutenant shifted nervously, sensing the anger simmering beneath Snake Head's words.

"What do you suggest, boss?" the lieutenant asked cautiously.

Snake Head's lips curled into a twisted smile. "I know just the person for the job," he said, his fingers drumming against the armrest of his chair.

Reaching for the phone on his desk, Snake Head quickly dialed a number, his eyes never leaving the lieutenant's face.

"It's time to call in a favor," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

An hour later, the sound of heavy boots echoed through the lair, and all eyes turned toward the entrance. A tall, imposing figure strode into the room, his presence commanding immediate attention.

Hellhound's appearance was a study in contrasts. His face was hidden behind a sleek, black mask shaped like a snarling dog, adding an air of menace to his already intimidating presence. Beneath the mask, his dark hair was slicked back, giving him a predatory, almost feral look.

His body was encased in a form-fitting, tactical suit, the black and red color scheme a stark contrast to the dimly lit lair. The suit was designed for maximum mobility, with articulated joints and a streamlined silhouette that hinted at his exceptional agility.

Strapped to his thighs and hips were an array of knives and other bladed weapons, their razor-sharp edges glinting ominously in the low light. But the most striking feature of Hellhound's appearance was the way he carried himself – with a confidence and grace that suggested he was a master of his craft.

As Hellhound approached Snake Head, the other men in the room instinctively shrank back, their eyes filled with a mixture of fear and respect.

"You called?" Hellhound's voice was low and gravelly, like the rumble of distant thunder.

Snake Head's lips curled into a satisfied smile. "I have a job for you, Hellhound," he said, leaning forward in his chair. "I want you to find and eliminate the Kamen Rider."

Hellhound tilted his head slightly, his gaze unreadable behind the mask. "The Kamen Rider, hmm?" he murmured, his tone almost contemplative. "That should prove... interesting."

"I'm paying you a million dollars," Snake Head said, his eyes narrowing. "And I want the job done quickly. This Rider has been a thorn in my side for too long."

Hellhound nodded slowly, his fingers drumming against the hilt of one of his knives. "Very well," he said, his voice betraying a hint of anticipation. "Consider it done."

With a fluid motion, Hellhound turned and began to make his way toward the exit, his footsteps echoing through the lair. The other men watched him go, their expressions a mix of awe and dread.

As Hellhound reached the doorway, he paused and glanced over his shoulder, his mask lending an eerie, inhuman quality to his gaze.

"I'll be in touch," he said, his voice low and menacing.

And then he was gone, leaving the lair once more shrouded in an uneasy silence.

Snake Head leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face. "This should be interesting," he murmured, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.

The lieutenant, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, cleared his throat nervously. "Boss, are you sure Hellhound is the right man for the job?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Snake Head's eyes narrowed, and he fixed the lieutenant with a withering glare. "Of course I'm sure," he snapped. "Hellhound is the best in the city. If anyone can take down that Kamen Rider, it's him."

The lieutenant nodded, his shoulders slumping in resignation. He knew better than to question Snake Head's decisions, especially when it came to matters of the Black Cobra gang's security.

As the lair fell silent once more, the air seemed to crackle with a sense of anticipation. The hunt for the Kamen Rider was on, and Hellhound was the predator poised to strike.

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Give Power Stones so I can continue to write this story. If it does not gain any interest, I will drop it.

Advance chapters on my P@tE0N Najicablitz, which is also the best way to support me.