Sam clutched Gideon’s elbow and urged him to the side of the tunnel, not taking his eyes from Jinsoku’s towering form.

“Who is it?” Gideon planted his feet in the dirt. “Who else is down here?”

“Shut up, Gideon.” Sam pushed him toward the wall.

The flash of sparks from the ceiling illuminated fallen chunks of the street and the haze of dust and dirt in the air. More of the tunnel must have just collapsed.

Jinsoku didn’t seem to be in a hurry, though. He just stood there. Staring.

“Don’t tell me to shut up, boy. Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”

Sam ignored him and pushed him against the wall. “Be quiet and stay put.” Sam stepped out of Gideon’s reach and faced the warlord.

Jinsoku still hadn’t moved.

He’d seen Gideon. What were the chances he’d believe Gideon was just some bystander Sam had encountered? Just another person Sam was rescuing out of the goodness of his heart? If Jinsoku found out who Gideon really was, the warlord wouldn’t let him live. 

Sam grabbed his menuki from his pocket. “Sen hifu no Hinode, seijitsu.”

Like living lightning, the power from the charm swept over him in green light, leaving his first layer of armor in its wake.

Jinsoku remained still as a statue. “Hinode.” His helmet tilted slightly sideways. “What are you thinking, boy?”

“I’m thinking you don’t belong down here.”

Jinsoku uttered a quiet laugh, the sound muffled by his helmet’s face shield. “Neither of us do.”

“Why are you here at all?” Sam clenched his armored fists until the joints of his knuckles creaked.

“Perhaps there is a greater force at work than you realize.”

“Not likely,” Sam spat. “You’re here to cause trouble, like you always do.” He stepped back into a defensive stance. “And I’ll stop you.”

Jinsoku’s laughter rang out louder than before. “Do you really believe that?”

Sam scowled.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you really believe you can defeat me alone?” Jinsoku finally shifted his weight, turning toward him with an intimidating cock of his head. “You have not managed it yet.”

Sam scoffed. “There’s a first time for everything.”

Jinsoku spread his arms and gestured to the thick, hazy darkness around them. “And this is your choice for a final stand?”

Sam flared his nostrils and tensed. He hated to admit it, but the warlord had a point. Fighting in a tunnel that was already on the verge of collapse didn’t exactly seem like the brightest idea.

“Come now, Hinode. You are a proponent of logic.” Jinsoku dropped his arm. “Let us reason together.”

“When have you ever been reasonable?”

Another harsh laugh. “What harsh words, Hinode. I have never offered you anything but reason.”

Hardly. Sam glanced at the ceiling and back down the tunnel.

Gideon hadn’t moved from the wall at least, but he was listening. Raptly. And that was going to be a problem. Jinsoku had already said enough that Gideon wouldn’t believe some fluffy made-up explanation about the mysterious stranger they met in the collapsed tunnel.

I’m going to have to tell him the truth.

“What then is your choice, Hinode?”

Sam glared at the warlord. A shower of sparks behind him outlined his armor in the black.

“Shall we do battle? Then, draw your sword.” Jinsoku’s voice had the tone of a sneer. “Perhaps you will manage a decent hit before you bring the tunnel down on all of us.” A shimmer of red light sparkled in the warlord’s eyes. “Including the civilian you are harboring.”

Sam drew a slow breath that smelled of dust and old rusted iron. “What’s the alternative?”

The silence that fell between them prickled, as though the air had absorbed a static charge from the sparkling electric lines overhead.

“You tell me.”

Jinsoku’s hidden gaze burned.

They could fight. Jinsoku would most likely win, although Sam was confident he could get a few good licks in. But then what? They’d bring the whole tunnel down on top of them, and—armor or not—he wouldn’t survive it. Gideon wouldn’t. And who knew what damage it would do to the surface?

“We have two choices then,” Sam said, with a glance toward the dark ceiling.

“Yes?”

“Die.” Sam shrugged. “Which isn’t my first choice.”

“Nor mine.”

Sam clenched his teeth, his jaw twitching. “Or, we work together.”

Jinsoku took a step, his armor clanking with the motion. “To what end?”

“To get out of here.” Sam squared his shoulders and faced the warlord without flinching. “What other end did you have in mind?”

Jinsoku paused and raised his hands in front himself, palms out. “Merely surviving this labyrinth would be perfectly acceptable.”

Sam glanced over his shoulder at Gideon. He could just make out the old man’s shape in the dark behind him. Sam turned his gaze to Jinsoku and unleashed the angriest look he could muster.

“If you try anything—anything—I’ll run you through.”

Jinsoku was doing his statue impression again. “Who is the old man, Hinode?”

There it was. The last question he wanted to answer.

“Just someone from the street.”

Jinsoku had no reply, but the silence between them prickled again. The set of the warlord’s shoulder plates angled as he took a step back, his chin lifting.

He doesn’t buy it. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t either.

Sam leaned in, pretending that Jinsoku’s height didn’t intimidate him. “I’ll work with you to get out of here alive, but don’t think I won’t kill you if you put one toe out of line.”

Jinsoku made a noise at the back of his throat. Something halfway between a laugh and a choked sound. “Hinode, there is no need for such harsh declarations.” His tone became acidic. “We are all friends here.”

Sam steadied his breathing. “I’m not your friend.”

With the slightest movement, Jinsoku was too close. Chest plate to chest plate. So close that even in the dark Sam could see the engraved designs across the metalwork of his armor.

Fight or flight instincts flaring, it took every ounce of discipline to keep Sam rooted to the spot. He’d never been this close to the warlord before, not without a sword in hand. The dagger in his leg sheath begged him to reach for it.

“No,” Jinsoku hissed. “We are enemies. At least, for now.”

Sam scowled. “What does that mean?”

Jinsoku stepped around him and lifted his hand to meet the darkness. “Terashi dasu.” The warlord’s armored fingers glowed bright, clear light and cast shadows on the walls around them. “I believe it is this way. Do fetch your useless old man.”

The warlord’s tone sounded amused—almost cheerful.

I don’t like this, but what choice do we have? Sam glanced back at Gideon. If we fight, Gideon and I are as good as dead down here.

Not taking his eyes off Jinsoku, Sam backed up to the wall where Gideon waited.

“Sam?”

“Here.” Sam held out his arm, and Gideon took it.

“What’s this?” Gideon felt along the ridges and plates of the sub-armor. “What are you wearing?”

“It’s a long story.” Sam pulled him forward. “Come on.”

Gideon stumbled slightly over a rock, and Sam supported him as he regained his balance. In the dim light cast from the warlord’s hand, Sam could see a trickle of blood running down the side of Gideon’s face. Sam stopped him.

“Did you hit your head?” Sam turned the old man’s face to the side and squinted at the gash in his temple.

“Did I hit my head?” Gideon chuckled. “I think I hit everything, boy.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Okay, listen.”

“I’m listening.” Gideon nodded and patted him on the chest. “Good Lord, Sam, what is going on?” He knocked on Sam’s chest plate. “What are you wearing?”

Sam huffed. “Gid.”

“You weren’t wearing that ten minutes ago.”

“Gideon.”

“I’m listening.”

“You’re not.”

“Well, I will listen—if you tell me what this is.” He knocked on Sam’s arm again.

“It’s armor.”

Gideon tilted his head. “Armor?”

“Yes, armor,” Sam hissed.

Behind them, Jinsoku cleared his throat. Sam grit his teeth and glared at the warlord.

“You have to walk with me, Gideon.” Sam pulled the old man forward.

Gideon muttered unhappily as Sam drew him across the tunnel, but he didn’t fight. Once Jinsoku deemed them close enough, he started walking, the light from his hand making hungry shadow monsters all around them.

“What kind of armor?” Gideon asked, leaning on Sam’s arm as he took each step.

Sam took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Where’d you get armor?”

“It. Doesn’t. Matter.”

Gideon cackled and patted Sam’s arm. “Now, listen, Sam. You don’t get to tell me you got armor and then not tell me where you got it from. Did you find it in San Francisco? Is that why you haven’t come home?”

“Gideon, shut up.”

Ahead, Jinsoku marched into the darkness without breaking stride.

No chance he was ignoring them. It was probably already too late. If the warlord didn’t already suspect that Gideon wasn’t just an average civilian, he would soon enough if Gideon kept up his ridiculous chatter.

“You realize, boy, the more you tell me to shut up, the more I’m going to keep talking.”

Sam groaned. “Why are you like this?”

“Hey, at least I’m pleasant about it. Not like you. Grouchy-pants.”

Sam breathed through clenched teeth. “I got the armor while I was in DC.”

“That was years ago.”

“Yes.”

“You were a teenager.”

“Yes.”

Gideon walked beside him in silence for a moment. “So, all this time you’ve been some kind of vigilante?”

“Something like that.”

Gideon straightened a bit. “What about all the times I caught you sneaking back into your room?”

“Yes, Gideon.”

“You were out saving people?”

Sam rolled his eyes again.

Gideon elbowed him. “Did you make a face? I’m assuming you made a face.”

“Yes, Gideon.”

“Yes, you made a face, or yes you’ve been playing superhero since you were sixteen years old?”

The temptation to pull his arm out of Gideon’s hold made his shoulders arch. “I’m not playing.”

Gideon fell silent again. For a long while, the only sound was the clank of armored boots against soft dirt.

When Korin had appeared to him all those years ago, Sam had been the only Reishosan. He’d been the first warrior chosen in their world. He was the first one in the Terran Dimension to don his Armor. He was the first to destroy one of Thallia’s soldiers.

Six months later, Korin returned and told him there was a second. Insisted they should work together.

Sam refused. He hadn’t needed anyone to help him when he’d started bashing soldiers up and down the coastline of Virgina. He stayed in DC for a year until Korin pointed out that his armor was meant for more than just bashing soldiers. But he couldn’t discover what it was meant for alone.

So he’d gone to San Francisco.

Ten years later, he was exactly where he’d started.

“So, you going to tell me who your friend is?” Gideon asked softly.

“He’s not my friend.”

“Right. Right.” Gideon nodded. “I forgot. You don’t do friends.”

“It’s not like that,” Sam growled. “He’s an enemy.”

Gideon tensed slightly. “An enemy?”

Sam released a huge lungful of air. “There’s a guy in another dimension who’s trying to take over our world. I’m like the only one who’s stopping him.”

“And your friend?” Gideon pointed forward.

“He’s not my friend.”

Gideon snickered.

Sam bit his tongue until he tasted blood. “He’s a warlord.”

“And we’re following him?”

“Yes.”

Gideon blinked. “Don’t you think we’d be better off on our own?”

“This is temporary,” Sam said. “He won’t let us go, and I can’t fight him down here.”

Jinsoku paused slightly as a concrete platform came into view. He held his hand up to shine the light on the walls, but none of the doors were open. All of them were barricaded and sealed with strips of red tape.

“No exits here,” Jinsoku muttered and kept walking.

Sam pulled Gideon forward.

“If we fight, we’re going to bring this place down,” Sam snarled in Gideon’s ear. “And even with your hard head, the tunnel collapsing on you will kill you. And it won’t do me much good either.”

“So you’d rather tag along after an enemy?”

“He has a light.” Sam looked away from his old friend and glanced at the shadows that danced on the tunnel walls. “He can see where he’s going.”

Gideon’s expression softened in the darkness. “I see.”

Sam scoffed. “No, Gideon. You don’t.” You never have.

Sam guided the old man through the dark, following Jinsoku’s bootprints, and Gideon’s smile didn’t fade.