The slums of Musutafu never truly slept.
Even after the last food stalls closed and the neon signs flickered off one by one, the city's underbelly breathed in hushed whispers and silent footsteps. Stray dogs roamed the alleys. Drones buzzed overhead, indifferent to what they couldn't be paid to see. Somewhere far above, heroes slept in high towers. But down here, the forgotten clung to shadows and silence.
Jetsling Beroba sat on the edge of a crumbling rooftop, his back against a rusted ventilation unit. The wind tugged at his coat as he stared into the murky horizon. His breath fogged in the chill air.
His hands were still stained from earlier—from the trash, from the dust. But his thoughts weren't on that now.
They were on her.
'Minako.'
Her eyes were the kind that didn't look past you. She didn't flinch. Didn't pity. Just saw him—saw him—and extended warmth.
A sandwich. A smile. A moment of humanity.
'It doesn't change what I have to do, he thought. But it reminds me why.'
A child like that can be said to be rare. So, he need to protect them. It can be said now, he is a kid. The law will be lenient for him.
For that, he will clean the trash that never been clean. People that abandon humanity.
He stood, stretching his sore limbs. Down below, distant headlights passed through the cracks of alleyways. Jetsling turned away from them and began moving.
Tonight, the hunt would begin again.
---
Beneath the city, sterile light hummed in the lower levels of the hidden facility. The corridors were clean, too clean—scrubbed of not just dirt, but of life. Machines whispered, tubes hissed, and monitors blinked with unreadable data.
Dr. Marika Hoshino stood before a terminal, arms folded behind her back, glasses catching the artificial glow. Her white coat fell perfectly straight, not a wrinkle on it.
"Another blood trace," the technician said. "This time in Sector 7. We found traces of Photon Blood consistent with… unauthorized Rider systems."
Marika's fingers twitched slightly. "Delta?"
"Not a full reading.."
She turned toward the display, where blurry thermal images flickered. One showed a flash of silver and black. Another showed a crumpled corpse.
The problem that they face can be said to be a nuisance. This can be said to be the seventh times that they confront this person that call himself Kamen Rider Delta.
Everytime it's end in massacre.
"It's him. The anomaly child."
"Should we contact the Commission?"
"No," she said coldly. "They wouldn't understand the asset's value."
She tapped a screen, and another file opened: an encrypted schematic of the Delta Core.
"Activate Protocol Sable. Deploy a recon unit. If he resists…"
The technician swallowed. "Understood."
Behind them, in tanks lining the walls, children floated in suspended sleep.
---
Elsewhere, in a modest hero office nestled between taller towers, Pro Hero Skybolt slumped into a cracked leather couch. His suit was loose, his mask hanging by a string.
"What a joke," he muttered, flipping through reports on a tablet. "Warehouse arson. Multiple bodies. All gang types. No civilian casualties."
Across from him, a younger hero—Kanda—sat upright, watching the same screen.
"Same pattern as the Sector 3 case. No clear footage. All internal security fried. You really think this is just gang war?"
Skybolt waved a dismissive hand. "Doesn't matter. If it's criminals cleaning each other up, it saves us work. Public's not panicking. Commission hasn't flagged it."
Kanda's brows furrowed. "But someone's doing it on purpose. The force. The precision. It's like… like someone's judging them."
Skybolt chuckled. "You read too many vigilante comics."
But Kanda kept watching the screen. One frame—barely visible—showed a red flash. A video that can be said taken from a few block from the place that the crime scene appear as no footage can be found.
He opened a new file, titled: "Rogue Villain?"
And began writing.
---
Back in the ruins of the Old District, Jetsling knelt beneath a broken overpass. In front of him was a stack of loose blueprints, scavenged tech parts, and a half-open toolkit.
He worked in silence, hands deftly adjusting circuitry inside the Delta Mover. Trying to understand the inner working. Sparks danced briefly in the dark as he rewired components. The Driver for the transformation into Kamen Rider will reset back when he recall it into the system. There no need for him to haul this thing everywhere.
He frowned.
"This thing was too complex. I need more abilities than the given one. It's not enough. I do not what enemies I will face in the future."
He can use the Kamen Rider Delta for what he want to do. Kamen Rider Vail need to be preserve as his cover.
He do not know how long he able to be in hiding.
Beside him, a scavenged satellite dish sat perched toward the surface. His modified scanner—a hybrid of stolen gear and Delta parts—was running background signals. Looking for patterns.
Then something pinged.
A small red dot blinked in Zone 4—near the canals. The same area the white van had been spotted. Twice.
Jetsling narrowed his eyes.
"They're moving again."
---
By dawn, he was on the rooftops, crouched like a shadow above a burned-out playground. Below, children huddled inside a makeshift shelter of cardboard and torn tarp.
One of them, a small boy with a limp, caught sight of him.
"You're the mask guy, right?" he asked timidly.
Jetsling said nothing.
"My sister… she was taken. Two weeks ago. Near the water plant."
Jetsling looked at him, eyes unreadable beneath his hood.
"Was she Quirkless?"
The boy nodded.
Jetsling stood. "Then I'll find her."
The boy's eyes widened. "You will?"
"I promise."
And then he vanished into the gray morning fog.
---
Hours later, near the canal zone, a girl—a slum orphan named Mari—snuck from her hiding spot to follow the trail of the man in the coat.
She had heard the stories.
The Rider who killed the monsters in the warehouse.
She wanted to see him.
But she didn't return.
---
That night, Jetsling found her scarf in the alley. And a symbol etched in chalk on the wall.
A triangle.
∆
His blood went cold.
"They've marked her. Or worse."
He call the Delta driver from the system and it then appear around his waist in the form of data before it materialize into reality.
The Delta Driver gleamed in the dim light.
He stared at it.
"I didn't want to use this. Not again. But if they want to drag me back… I'll show them what hell looks like."
He reached out, fingers curling around the handle.
The device came alive.
Henshin.
[STANDING BY]
[COMPLETE]
The high tech looking belt then generates the Photon Streams to form the Delta Rider armor.
Jetsling's face in the masked twisted—not in fear.
But in something closer to a smile.
"Let's remind them why monsters fear the dark."