FRIEND

[sensori]

Title: Friend
Fandom: Kamen Rider Dragon Knight
Genre: Drama/Slash/Adult
Characters: Pryce/Chance
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Pryce doesn't realize how his world will change once he accepts the challenge to become a Kamen Rider.
Author's Notes: The details about Ventara and its past are fuzzy, and there may yet be some things that contradict this story in proper canon later, but for all intents and purposes, this fic attempts to stay within the same world as the show. Fair warning- It's pretty long, but hopefully rewarding. Comments are awesome. Thanks for reading!


Pryce tightened his grip on the cold metal of the railing as he stood upon the rooftop, staring endlessly into the vastness of the empty city that stretched out before him. A streak of white cut across the sky and the roar of thunder could be heard from a distance as an army of restless clouds reached out across the black Ventaran sky. After all that had happened, the city was nearly emptied. Xaviax's forces had already succeeded in stealing away eighty percent of the planet's population.

Pryce's teeth grinded behind his lips. The city where he was born and raised had been turned into a ghost town overnight. Pryce felt as though he could have ripped the railing right out of the bolts that held it down with the strength brought on by his frustration. And that's when he heard it. The noise that sent a shiver down his spine. The ominous tingle that alerted him to the presence of danger. One of Xaviax's assassins had appeared just behind him.

As he stood there waiting, the first hint of rain began chattering against the leather of his jacket. A slight hiss lingered in the air as the creature reached out for him. The images of the past flashed through Pryce's mind as his hands lifted from the metal railing and curled into fists...

========

Pryce was seventeen when he first encountered him.

As the prize of the wealthiest family in the city, it was expected that Pryce would join the Rider Program. When Xaviax unleashed his hordes on the planet, their only hope was in the alien known as Eubulon, and the twelve Advent Decks he gifted to the Ventaran race. A select group of soldiers would be assembled, whose physical, mental, and spiritual identity matched the required standards.

The chances for eligibility were nearly impossible for the average man. Military officers, intelligence agents, and members of various armed forces around the world were admitted into the program, and promptly spit right back out again, rejected by the fickle power of the decks, which required a near perfect match.

When approached by Eubulon to join the Rider Program, Pryce's parents leaped at the opportunity. Pryce let out a great sigh when the idea was brought up to him at the long, stretched dinner table around which his entire family sat. It was clear to Pryce, as his mother and father both sat nearly forty feet away from him on the opposite end of the table, that they were not asking him to do this for any benevolent reasons. It was more than likely that they were hoping that this would bring more publicity to the parent company that Eubulon worked with, and his parents owned. He could practically see the shimmer of the dollar signs that twinkled in their eyes as they imagined how quickly Treadwell products would be flying off the shelves after witnessing young Pryce achieve such a noble, heroic status along with all the common folk.

The idea of it made Pryce choke on the roast duck he had just stuffed into his mouth. But as he sat there, watching his parents, and his elder brother and sister stared at him from across the long table, he began to wonder what it might be like. Living among his family had grown tiresome long ago, and the luxury of his home had not felt so luxurious ever since he grew old enough to realize how little his parents ever seemed interested in anything happening in their son's life (the Rider Program being an exception, considering how much it would benefit them).

"I'll do it."

Pryce did not react to the slight gasp he heard from his sister as he sipped his spring water. Perhaps her surprise came from the fact that Pryce had never worked a day in his life. Instead, when he wasn't forced to study much longer than any normal teenager ever would, he was locked away in his room, trying to put the "finishing touches" on his latest paintings, or training with the finest martial arts instructors that his father's money could buy. Which was quite expensive. But now he would trade in his human instructors for an alien one and his associates.
The first day of training was more of a publicity stunt than an actual lesson. A thousand flashes of camera light scattered across his face as he stepped into the vast training hall, where at least fifty young men and women were sparring.

Pryce simply walked into the room, completely steady and unnerved as the eyes in the room slowly shifted toward him, watching as a small army of photographers and news cameras followed him around like puppies begging for a biscuit. Pryce acted as though he didn't even notice them at first. By the time he was ten years old, his mother had already taught him never to look anything but flawless whenever he exited the mansion, and that the cameras were simply an opportunity to allow the world to know him for the amazing person that he was.

Internally, Pryce would never believe such notions. Through his rebellious teen years, his parents would drive him out to find someone- anyone - that did not resemble the lifestyle his parents had spoiled him with from an early age, and he was amazed at how he had been treated by those few people who did not already know his name. They made it clear, sometimes with great difficulty, that he was not nearly as special as his parents had programmed him to think he was, simply for being born into the Treadwell dynasty.

Pryce would never be able to recall much of that first day in training, other than the confused looks of the martial artists, soldiers, and operatives that worked with him, glaring and scowling at both him and the cameramen that had attached themselves to him for the entire event.

The next day, Eubulon's people had expressly forbidden any outsiders from entering the facility. A thing that Pryce found himself glad of. He made it a point to be there half an hour early, in order to avoid being recognized as the spoiled fool who brought an entire enterouge to training. This was when he first laid eyes upon him. The one person who had arrived earlier than himself.

The shimmer of the morning sun poured into the room from the glass roof above, casting a glow over the rippled skin of the young man that stood in the center of the training hall. With a deep breath, he snapped into a fighting stance, drawing his hands around him with an undeniable focus. Pryce watched silently from the far wall as the young man suddenly lifted off of the ground, his legs whirling about him in a formidable spinning kick, before gracefully dropping into a roll. Pryce did not realize that he was staring until the object of his curiosity had suddenly flipped right into his personal space.

"Do I have something on my face?"

The words came out so abruptly that Pryce had no idea how to respond. The young man was several feet away from him only an instant ago, and was now only inches away from his face, asking him... Shit, Pryce couldn't even remember the question!

"I must have something on my face," he continued, a slight smile creeping over his lips. "Because you've been staring at me for the last five minutes now."

Pryce's first words came out cracked. "Oh, uh-- No, I was just--"

"You must be new."

Pryce blinked silently. He had made such a display the day before that he was overjoyed at the thought that this person did not recognize him as "The Treadwell Boy."

"Uh, yeah," Pryce said at last, shaking the young man's hand. "Pryce."

"Chance," the young man called himself. "Chance Leery."

Pryce wanted to say something more, but the truth was that he was still quite embarassed about what had just happened. Being caught so easily by the guy he had just spent the past five minutes staring at before even realizing that he had noticed. He suddenly felt like such a creep. But the face that stood before him now wore an honest, inviting smile. Chance seemed genuinely happy to meet someone new. And if he was bothered at all about what had just happened, Pryce could not detect it in the warmth of his eyes.

"So," Chance began. "The instructor's not gonna be here for a while... Wanna spar?"

Thirty seconds later, Pryce's back was slamming into the training mat. He could already hear the playful laugh from Chance as he performed a cartwheel in victory. But before Chance could turn around, Pryce had already sprung directly from his back, up to his feet again, locking into a formidable fighting stance. Chance spun around just in time to watch Pryce's body come rushing out of the air toward him.

Chance flung himself aside, narrowly dodging Pryce's kick and thrusting an elbow down as he landed. But Chance was startled to find that his elbow was caught between Pryce's skillfull hands. Before Chance knew what was happening, Pryce had gripped his arm and hurled him over his shoulder. But not before Chance had grabbed him right back, forcing his opponent down with him.

Pryce coughed in surprise as he collided with Chance's body, smacking hard against the mat.

For a moment, Pryce did not move. A sudden rush of sensation flew through him as he realized what had just happened. His arm was still locked underneath the tense muscle of Chance's own limbs. He could feel the brush of Chance's heavy breath against his lips. The morning light glistened against the contours of his exposed flesh. And the warmth of his body was overpowering... until he glanced into the stunned, confused eyes of the person lying beneath him.

Pryce had never pulled away from someone faster in his life. He quickly sat up and nervously tried to clear his throat, but it was impossible. He found himself glancing at the door and uncertain of what to do or say. But somehow, he could feel the smirk that appeared on Chance's face only seconds after they had broken contact. Pryce had known him for all of fifteen minutes, but somehow he knew that Chance would find the awkwardness of this moment highly amusing. And Pryce wanted to crawl under the largest rock he could find and live there.

Finally, the long, breathless silence was broken by Chance's voice.

"You're pretty good," he said. "I've been training here for two weeks now, and nobody's been able to pin me like that."

"I didn't pin you," Pryce insisted. "I just... sorta fell on you. You won."

"Well, of course I won," Chance laughed. He was freaking Pryce out by how jovial he was about everything, already scooting over so that he could look Pryce right in the eye, though Pryce wouldn't look at him directly. "I'm just saying... Nobody's ever come that close before."

Something about the way Chance said that stirred Pryce. For the next several hours, the words would rattle around in his head, as he was forced through one rigorous training excercise after another. Pryce would fend off verbal attacks from the other students who cursed him for being a spoiled rich kid, while simultaneously defeating every sparring opponent that came up against him. And after every victory, he would glance across the room to find that Chance had scored an equally impressive victory against his own opponents. They had gotten into the habit of giving each other a "thumbs up" after almost every match.

From this point on, training became easier. Regardless of the continued taunting of the other students, Pryce knew that he had an ally in Chance. And as training grew more relentless, and students began to disappear from the various classes one by one, Pryce knew that Chance would not be among those rejected by Eubulon. What had started as a group of fifty potential Kamen Riders had soon been shrunk to a collection of twenty individuals. There were few weak links left in the chain strung together by their instructors. All that remained were the most lethal, and physically, mentally, and spiritually appropriate humans eligible for the honor of accepting the Advent Decks.

The honor.

Growing up in the Treadwell household, a word such as "honor" had no meaning. It was all about how much money could be made, how much publicity could be garnered, and how much one could improve their social status with the city's elite. But Pryce had something more to look forward to, beyond the petty foolishness that his family had been grooming him for all those years. He had the responsibility- the honor- of being called a Kamen Rider of Ventara. And he had Chance, his only true friend in all the world.

Six months passed like six years, as Chance and Pryce cheered each other on through their advanced training with Eubulon's instructors, honing their skills and pushing themselves harder than they ever could have if either of them did not have the other's enthusiasm to keep them going. At least that was how Pryce felt. He had always been confident in his own abilities, but even he had begun to doubt himself when he faced some of the challenges that stood between him and one of those coveted Advent Decks.

But it was Chance who was there to place a hand on his shoulder and nod with encouragement just before he entered the battlefield on his first live mission against one of Xaviax's monsters. It was that smart alec grin Chance was so fond of showing off that raced through Pryce's thoughts as he threw the first punch into the creature that rushed at him in the middle of the night, while his instructor watched from a safe distance.

The creature was on the ground, shrieking ominously as it gripped the pain in its gut from Pryce's attack. And Pryce wasted no time with his second maneuver, hurling himself into the air and dropping down with a knee to the creature's chest, the strain on its nervous system instantly causing it to vaporize beneath him. For a moment, Pryce forgot that this was only a training excercise, and that his instructor would have swooped in to save him if he ran into too much trouble. He was startled by the sudden laugh from Chance as he ran out of the darkness and grabbed his arm to shake it, then threw his other arm around him for a congratulatory hug.

In the briefest of moments, Pryce shut his eyes, enveloped in the sweet scent of Chance's cologne, comforted by the touch of his arm around him. He was so happy. But that only made it worse. As he opened his eyes again and immediately broke contact when he realized his instructor was stepping out of the shadows to give him his report.

Pryce held in a sigh he desperately wanted to release as the instructor spoke. Pryce wouldn't remember a single word of it after an hour. Because as the man rambled on about battle techniques and physical endurance, Pryce was still sweating. Not because of the exertion of the fight with the monster, but because of the realization he had just made. That, whenever he glanced over from across the room at Chance, he felt the pace of his own heartbeat quicken. He had to fight the twitch of his lips from blooming into a smile whenever he said something stupid, but was unintentionally hilarious. He had to push away the most obscene images from his mind whenever Chance managed to pin him onto the training mat, and their bodies were pressed so firmly against each other that he could have screamed from the frustration of not doing anything about it. He was in love with his best friend...

Another month had passed, and for once, Pryce's limousine wasn't waiting out back for him to "inconspicuously" sneak into it to be driven home at the end of a long day. Pryce found himself waiting impatiently along the front steps of the building, cursing himself for neglecting to bring his phone with him to call for a ride.

"You're not waiting for me, are you?"

Pryce fought back another tremendous smile as he stood up to greet his friend, who stepped out of the building with that sarcastic smirk he recognized so well.

"You're funny," Pryce replied flatly.

"I'd offter you a ride, but I usually walk home. I just live a few blocks from here, on East Street."

"Oh?" Pryce asked. Suddenly he realized that he had never been to Chance's house. In fact, he had no idea what Chance did after leaving the training facility. Other than the local arcade eatery he would find him sitting alone at every other week, they really had not seen much of each other when it had nothing to do with their goal to become Kamen Riders.

"I'm headed that way myself," Pryce said. Of course, Pryce's house was really located in the exact opposite direction. "Want some company on the way?"

"Sure," Chance replied. And before Pryce could pick up his gym bag, Chance had already reached over and swiped it up, slinging the thing over his shoulder along with his own backpack. Chance would carry both of their bags for as long as they walked. In his surprise, Pryce had forgotten to even say "thank you," though Chance would not have thought it was necessary anyway.

The day had quickly passed into night.

As the two of them walked, Pryce could not keep the grin off his face while Chance talked trash about half the other potential Riders. About the way Hunt always boasted about how he works well on his own, even though he needed extra attention with training missions whenever he wasn't assigned to a group. Or how Victor must have been genetically altered to freeze his facial hairs for the perfect amount of "edgy tough guy stubble." Pryce was howling all the way down the street.

His laughter was almost enough to take his mind off of the fact that they had suddenly taken a swift turn from the good side of town into what his brother affectionately referred to as The Craphole. Suddenly, clean walls of buildings and homes were replaced by graffiti and broken beer bottles. And, though Pryce had spent plenty of time in strange places over the last few years, it was a struggle to keep himself comfortable in such surroundings. And he hated himself for it. Because he knew that few people in the world were as lucky as him, and more importantly, this was the place that his best friend lived.

"WHERE'S THE REST OF MY FUCKING WHISKEY?!"

The sound of Mr. Leery's voice was like an explosion rippling across the street from the open window along the side of Chance's house. Pryce's mouth opened slightly in surprise as he realized Chance was slowing down, looking over to that house as though this was his place. The clamor of broken dishes could be heard from inside.

Pryce watched out of the corner of his eye as Chance's beautiful, sarcastic smile fell away, replaced by something he had never seen before. A look of uneasiness. For the first time since Pryce had met him, Chance looked embarrassed.

Chance said nothing for a few moments. Just stood there, staring quietly down the street, far beyond the house they had arrived at. He must be horrified that Pryce had to arrive at a time like this, when his father had stumbled home early from work, and already found the time to get drunk and cause a fuss. Chance had mentioned once that his mother had died of an illness when he was very young, and somehow Pryce found himself thankful that she was not around to be tortured by whatever must be going on in the half-lit house.

"Listen, uh..."

Pryce's heart jumped when he heard the timid sound in Chance's voice. Another first for them.

"I'll see you later, okay?" Chance continued. "I'm gonna go for a walk."

"Is he always like that?" Pryce asked, almost rudely. But he couldn't help it. He was concerned for his friend, and simply refused to pretend he wasn't hearing those awful sounds from inside that house. The house Chance must have been forced to live alone inside, with whatever was left of the single father that raised him.

"Only on days that end with the letter Y," Chance joked. Pryce could tell he was deflecting the harshness of the subject with his usual brand of humor, but Pryce couldn't bear to laugh. "I usually just go hang out in the park for a few hours till he falls asleep. They've got some pretty comfortable benches in the park, ya know."

"Wait a minute... You haven't slept in the park, have you?"

"Don't do that." A quick flash of anger became visible on Chance's face, but only for a moment. "Don't act like you feel sorry for me."

"I don't." A lie. "But there's no way I'm gonna let you sleep in the park when there's more than enough room at my house."

Chance looked sheepish. Another expression from him Pryce wasn't accustomed to. Before Chance could think of another witty comment to wash away the seriousness or deny his offer, Pryce grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back down the street the way they had come. Right before he grabbed the bags Chance had been holding. He decided that Chance was carrying enough baggage as it was without his own crap weighing him down even further.

"I thought you said you lived in the same direction as East Street," Chance said at last. A little of that familiar tone was back in his voice now that they were headed away from the Leery house.

"Yeah, well..."

Chance glanced at him as though he expected him to continue, but Pryce just shrugged him off and kept walking. There was no way that he was going to tell him that the only reason he walked all that way was because he enjoyed being with him. Let alone the fact that his feelings for Chance were not entirely platonic. There was far too much at stake for both of them, he thought, for such information ever to be spoken aloud.

Chance's eyes were lit up in surprise within ten minutes of when Pryce had used Chance's cell phone (wasting the last of his pre-paid minutes, no less) to call his limousine driver to pick them up. Pryce smiled politely, ushering his friend into the vehicle. It was obvious that Chance had never ridden in a limo before, and he probably was expecting Pryce's mother to pull up in a dented mini-van full of screaming babies or something. Not Mr. Fidgens, the limo driver that had been chauffeuring Pryce around since he was old enough to tell him he wanted McDonald's for lunch.

Pryce couldn't help but find Chance's fascination amusing. He seemed utterly determined to explore every single feature on every single console, including the built-in television set with sattelite link-up and video games. Pryce found himself oddly charmed by his friend's enjoyment. Chance gave him a new sense of appreciation for so many of the things that he had taken for granted. And, when compared to the snobbery of his siblings, who would have pitched a fit if the satellite feed wasn't working on the television, Chance's attitude was a breath of fresh air.

Pryce led Chance up the long stretch of marble that lead them through the front entrance of the mansion. Chance spun around as he walked, looking dreamily up at the assortment of crystal chandeliers that lit up the house at night. Pryce cracked a smile as Chance tried to shake the hand of every maid and servant that bowed when the young man of the house passed by.

But the next time Chance reached out his hand, he almost didn't realize that this latest hand did not belong to someone who was bowing. In fact, it belonged to the young lady of the house, Pryce's elder sister, Ruby.

The young woman snatched Chance's hand before he realized who she was, and she held it there in the air much longer than anyone he had ever met. She looked at him with an almost seductive gaze, her eyes giving him a long, bold stare from head to toe.

"Mm!" was the only thing that came out of her at first. "Hello there..."

"Uh, hi." Chance's eyebrows scrunched together. To Pryce's eyes, it looked as though Chance couldn't believe this girl. She looked at him like she could leap on top of him at any second, without even knowing his name. "I'm Chance. And you must be--"

"Ruby," she said before he could finish. "Like the jewel. Pryce never told me he had such attractive friends. Of course, he's so absent-minded, he probably forgets all about you the moment you start walking away."

Chance shot Pryce a look, but Pryce was too anxious to receive it.

"Well, I think Pryce has a pretty good memory," Chance said, trying to soften the obvious blow to Pryce's integrity.

"Maybe, but not as good as mine," Ruby replied. "I'd never forget a face like yours. In fact, you could do some modeling for my company. I could get you on the cover of Ventara Monthly... if you're willing to put in the work."

The last thing Pryce would have expected was for Chance to laugh, but that's exactly what he did. And perhaps he should have known. Ruby was hitting on him harder than anyone ever had, and practically insinuating that he should prostitute himself to her in exchange for a modeling job. Of course someone like Chance would laugh. From his perspective, the idea that his friend's older sister would try to pick him up was positively hilarious.

"Y'know what," Chance said. "Let me think about it, and I'll get back to you on that."

Somehow, Ruby was already prepared to network with Chance, because the moment he finished speaking, her business card was already being thrust into his face. He laughed through his nose as if to ask "Are you for real?" and then politely accepted the card, watching in amused disbelief as she sauntered off in the other direction.

"Sorry about that," Pryce said in a long breath, slowly ushering his friend into the fifth guest bedroom on the right.

Chance paused as he realized where he was going to sleep that night. The guest bedroom alone looked like three small families could live in it. By the time Pryce noticed his face, they had already forgotten about the wierdness of his sister.

"Oh god, I forgot," Pryce suddenly let out, realizing that one of his art pieces was sitting against the wall next to the extravagant dresser. There were several dried paint brushes and supplies strewn about the room, which Pryce scurried to pick up before Chance would have time to react. But Chance rushed up before Pryce could grab hold of the art piece.

It was a large, white canvas, with a beautiful landscape painted across it in broad, green and blue strokes. A waterfall crashing into the lake bed, surrounded by a forest paradise.

"You paint?" Chance asked before Pryce could grab the canvas.

"Uh, yeah," Pryce answered, slightly nervous. No one had seen his work but the servants, and the only comments they ever gave him were that it was amazing, which was more than likely just the result of them all fearing that they would be fired if they said otherwise. Despite the fact that Pryce would never let that happen.

Chance just stared at it for a long time. It looked as though he was studying every line of it. Or, Pryce thought, maybe he was just thinking of something to say because he secretly thought it was horrible, and wondered how he should be reacting. Pryce frowned in disappointment as he waited for the weak attempts at polite criticism.

"This is good," Chance said.

"Thanks?" Pryce didn't mean for it to sound like so much of a question. But he was still uncertain of how to accept those words.

"Reminds me of Stratmyre's early work. Maybe a little Kavarris."

Pryce had a look of amazement on his face for half a second.

"You're familiar with their styles?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"Yeah, I love their stuff. I paint too. Well, mostly graffiti art, actually. But I can appreciate a well-made classical piece."

"Oh wow, I'd love to see some of your work sometime."

Their conversation continued on for another few minutes. Pryce was genuinely amazed. He would rattle off the names of some of the most obscure artists and Chance would somehow recognize almost all of them. It was the first time he had met anyone close to him that held similar interests. And although Pryce was completely unfamiliar with graffiti art, Chance was more than happy to explore the topic with him. And if there was anyone more capable of holding Pryce's attention during a conversation about urban art, it was Chance. But before their discussion could continue much further, their voices were interrupted by another.

"Pryce," Mr. Treadwell said, stepping into the open doorway of the guest room. "When were you going to tell me you had... a guest?"

It seemed clear that Pryce's father was not happy to see that some common kid off the street was now standing on his pristine white carpet with dirty boots. The man gave his son a look almost as if to suggest that he should know better than to do this.

"Chance's dad had to go outta town for a last-minute business trip. I invited him to stay with us till he gets back."

Chance didn't seem to enjoy the way Pryce's father glared at him.

"And how long will it take him to get back?" he asked rudely.

Pryce opened his mouth to respond, but Chance quickly cut him off. "I'll be out by tomorrow morning."

Pryce tried not to let either of them see the sorrowful look in his eyes. His father shot him an irritated glance and offered an almost threatening "Good night" as he headed downstairs. They both waited motionlessly as the sound of his footsteps grew quieter and quieter.

CONTINUE TO PART 2