𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞; 𝐚 𝐁𝐍𝐇𝐀 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

[2] Grand

[1 Month Since Debut]
[4: 44 AM]
[Mustafu]

 "Help me, please!" A woman sprinted out of the shadowy alleyway, pursued by a relentless burglar. The night served as his kingdom, and he intended to rule it all. Closing in on her, he snatched her purse, yanking her back with a forceful headlock. With a sinister grin, he rummaged through her belongings, casting them aside carelessly. Makeup and personal items scattered on the ground, a testament to his disregard.

A voice pierced the tense air, resonating with an air of cool confidence. "You know, it's not polite to treat a beautiful woman that way," it declared from the depths of the darkness.

Confused, the burglar spun around, scanning for the source of the voice, until his back collided with an unseen figure. Before him stood Buffa, poised and determined, his pipe swinging down onto his knee with a resounding crack. The criminal crumpled to the ground in agony.

"I did," Buffa stated firmly, crouching down to face the crying burglar. In his entry form, he exuded an aura of unwavering strength. "Tell me, where's all that macho now?" he taunted, retrieving the stolen purse and approaching the trembling woman.

"Please, spare me!" she pleaded, fearing further harm. Her plea was met with surprise as Buffa tossed the recovered purse back into her trembling hands.

"Shut up," he snapped, his gaze fixated on the fallen criminal. Buffa dragged him into the depths of the alley, the sound of a dumpster opening followed by a heavy thud and a pained groan. Emerging from the shadows, Buffa dusted off his hands, reclaiming his trusty pipe. He fixed an intense glare upon the woman. "You didn't see anything," he warned sternly, before striding away, leaving a trail of mystique in his wake.

"Kamen Rider Buffa, my, my, my," a familiar voice echoed from one of the balconies above. Geats, wearing his characteristic sly grin, leaped down and positioned himself in front of Buffa.

"What do you want, Geats?" Buffa sighed, his patience wearing thin.

"I want nothing," Geats replied, raising his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. "Just keeping an eye on the competition. After all, we're both chasing our desires, aren't we?"

"Hmph." Buffa brushed past him, a nagging feeling in his mind urging caution. He instinctively ducked as Geats' foot swung over his head. Turning to face him, he demanded, "What was that for?!"

"Just testing your reflexes," Geats shrugged, assuming a defensive stance. "You know, taking out some competition ahead of time wouldn't hurt."

"You really want to go down this path?" Buffa threatened, gripping his trusty pipe tightly. "Don't you have some illusions to deceive people with?"

"Firstly, get your mythology right," Geats retorted. "Secondly, yes." He swiftly swung his fist toward Buffa, but Buffa evaded it with a nimble dodge. Counterattacking, Buffa swung his pipe, but Geats managed to deflect the blow. "Come on, where's that buffalo destroyer?" Geats taunted, delivering a swift kick to Buffa's leg.

Buffa leaped into the air, executing a high kick that landed squarely on Geats' masked face. "Right here," he replied with determination, following up with another kick that connected with Geats' side. Geats stumbled backward, executing a skillful leg sweep that sent Buffa sprawling.

Waiting for Buffa to rise, Geats seized the opportunity to strike again, missing his roundhouse kick but relentlessly pursuing Buffa as he retreated. Geats deflected Buffa's subsequent kicks, then landed a powerful punch to Buffa's face. Buffa felt a trickle of something wet on his face, unable to wipe it away. "Where's the protection in this thing?" he muttered, regaining his footing and assuming a stronger stance. If speed wasn't his forte, then what was the purpose of this armor? Buffa unleashed a barrage of hook punches before sweeping Geats' legs, sending him crashing onto the pavement.