Kamen Rider In The Marvel World

Noah couldn't recall much. He didn't know what had happened before his arrival in this strange world, how he'd ended up in the back of that truck, or why his chest had been pierced by a dart. The men in black, the ones who had died around him, were a mystery too. Who was he now? What was his purpose in this world?

Questions swirled in his mind, but answers eluded him. He felt like a ship lost in the vast ocean, surrounded by an endless fog, unsure of where he was or where he was heading. The identity of the man he had become—Gregor Russoff—had taken root in his mind, yet it was a name that felt foreign, like it didn't belong to him. He couldn't recall ever being this person, but the world around him insisted that he was. Everything about his new reality seemed surreal, and he was struggling to find his bearings.

As Noah—no, Gregor—looked around, the signs and billboards were all written in English, and he couldn't find a single character he recognized from his previous life. The license plates of the cars parked nearby all bore the words New York, and his pockets contained two identity cards, further cementing the fact that he had crossed oceans overnight, arriving in the legendary land known as the "Land of Freedom"—the United States.

Despite the suddenness of it all, one thing was painfully clear: Gregor had no choice but to accept his new life in this unfamiliar world. Whether he liked it or not, he was now in New York, and somehow, he had been thrust into a life far more complicated than he could have imagined.

"Man, what the hell is going on?" Gregor muttered under his breath, sinking against the cold, cracked window of an old diner. "I didn't ask for this. No one told me I'd end up here."

He wasn't an orphan. His memories of his past were still fresh, even if hazy. The people who cared for him—his family, the ones who had been a part of his life—were far away, leaving him to fend for himself in this foreign land. As he thought about it, an unsettling feeling gnawed at his stomach. Why had he been thrown into this mess, into this strange existence, without his consent?

It was then that he heard the sound—footsteps, heavy and deliberate, approaching from his left. The gruff voices, though foreign to him, seemed charged with a dangerous energy that made his skin crawl. Two towering figures, both easily over six feet tall, loomed in the dim light of the street. They were dressed in dark, drab clothing, and their movements seemed casual, but there was an underlying threat in their presence.

Gregor instinctively tensed, sensing the danger. The men were speaking in a language he didn't understand, their words harsh and guttural, blending into the night air. As much as he tried to focus, it felt like they were saying something more sinister than a casual conversation. His heart raced, and his eyes darted around for an escape.

His instincts screamed at him to avoid them, to flee, but Gregor remained rooted to the spot. He wasn't sure if it was their size, their tone, or the fact that he could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him, but he couldn't bring himself to act immediately.

The street, though not desolate, was eerily quiet. The occasional car passed by, but there was no one else in sight. This part of the city felt rough, worn down by years of neglect. The cracked pavement, the graffiti-covered walls, and the flickering streetlights—all signs of an area where law and order had long given way to chaos. This wasn't a neighborhood where a person wanted to linger after dark, not with the kind of people who roamed these streets.

"No, this is bad," Gregor muttered under his breath, his hand instinctively reaching for the Emperor's Driver tucked in his coat. The device, strange and foreign, was the only thing that made him feel like he had a fighting chance in this messed-up situation. "If they think they can mess with me, they're in for a surprise."

Just as he turned to retreat, the two men noticed him. They exchanged words, one of them let out a mocking laugh that felt like it was meant to intimidate. Gregor didn't wait for the next move. He turned on his heels and dashed toward the alley across the street, his hand clutching the Emperor's Driver as if it were his lifeline.

The sounds of pursuit followed almost immediately. The two men, seemingly confident in their ability to catch up, ran after him. One of them even pulled out a knife, the blade catching the dim light as it flicked open. But Gregor wasn't planning on letting them get close enough to use it.

He reached the alley, panting, and pressed the Emperor's Driver to his side. The ruby in the center of the device flared with a blood-red glow, matching the color of the mysterious liquid that had poured from his wound earlier. The light diffused, spreading like liquid fire over the surface of the device, and the metal began to hum with an energy that seemed almost alive.

A belt—sleek and silver—extended from the driver and wrapped itself around Gregor's waist. At the same time, a circular device appeared at his left hip, its purpose clear: the Ride Booker, the knight's card box. His heart pounded with excitement. This was it. He could feel it deep in his bones. The power he had been waiting for, the power that could transform him into something more than just an ordinary person, was finally within his grasp.

"Finally," Gregor muttered, his voice steady now as the belt clicked into place. "Let's see how they like this."

The Rider cards slid into place with ease. He didn't need to hesitate; he knew exactly what to do. He swiped the card through the Emperor's Driver, locking it into position with the practiced motion of someone who had done it a thousand times before.

"Kamen Ride... Decade!"

The words rang out with finality, and in an instant, the world around him seemed to shift. Ghostly, grey-white figures materialized around him, circling like specters before they surged toward him, merging with his body. Armor, black and white with a sleek, futuristic design, materialized around him, encasing him in a nearly impenetrable suit of strength.

Gregor stood tall now, no longer the weak, helpless man he had been just moments before. He was someone else entirely, someone who could fight back. The two men who had been pursuing him froze in their tracks as they took in the sight of him, now a Kamen Rider, ready for whatever confrontation lay ahead.

For the first time since his arrival in this world, Gregor felt a flicker of control over his own fate. This was just the beginning.

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