When the armor had finished forming around him, something that Ryan was almost certain he’d experienced before – must’ve been something to do with Sho – Ryan got his first real look at the virtual army of monstered-out goons that was currently surrounding him. They all looked like they wanted nothing more than to pound the living crap out of him—at least, the ones who weren’t busy looking like blown up roadkill did.

It was pretty freaky, the way all of the dead ones were rotting so fast, and Ryan took a moment to be grateful that he couldn’t smell them. That must have been one nasty smell; he’d heard enough from his mom to know that the smell of rotting flesh wasn’t one that any normal person would enjoy. Of course, none of the things he was facing now could ever really be considered normal. Ryan didn’t even think they qualified as people anymore, not after what they had just done.

+So, Sho, what’s the story with these beast-man guys?+

+They’re called Zoanoids,+ Sho said, sounding like he had lost something very important to him.

+Good to know,+ Ryan said. +Now, just how are we supposed to beat them? And why do you sound like someone just ran over your dog?+

If Sho had been speaking out loud, Ryan might have been tempted to call what he was doing whispering. It wasn’t like it was any "quieter" than normal – and how far gone was he that he was starting to think about this kind of stuff as normal? – but there was certainly something about it that suggested Sho was whispering. Maybe it was the tone, insofar as something that could only be heard inside a person’s head could have a tone at all.

Ducking under the arms of the Zoanoids as they took a swipe at him and still wondering what Sho had meant by what he had said earlier, Ryan suddenly got a very strong visual impression of both his upper arms and the tops of his wrists. When he looked at his right wrist, Ryan saw a noticeable lump there—a pointy lump, like something was there just waiting for him to notice it and use it.

With a thought, Ryan extended the lump, watching as it elongated from a barely-there thing of about an inch high to a blade that was six inches long and shimmered softly in the light. Ryan even thought he could hear it humming but decided that he was probably imagining that. Whatever the case, this new weapon of his was pretty cool. Looks like I’ve got a matched set, though.

With a little mental urging, Ryan managed to do the same with the blade on his left wrist. The Zoanoids gave him a teensy bit more breathing room once he had managed to figure out how to use his new wrist-blades, but the guy in the center – Sho’s "old friend," though Ryan was really starting to doubt his fellow Guyver’s sanity if he’d make friends with someone like that – seemed to be prodding them into attacking again.

It was getting pretty damned annoying.

+I’m coming,+ Sho seemed to whisper again.

Ryan didn’t quite know what was going on with Sho, though he was starting to suspect a few things, but now really wasn’t the time to be conducting any impromptu therapy sessions. Not in the middle of the street, and sure as hell not when they were being assaulted by an army of freakish monsters. There would be time for Sho to get his head on straight later; for now, it was more important that they didn’t get killed. Being dead would be a real impediment to talking things over, after all.

When another Guyver—a blue one with twisty purple stuff between the plates of its armor—came charging into the thick of the group of Zoanoids that was trying to beat him down, Ryan was particularly grateful to have him there.

+Well, I see you’ve gotten over whatever it was that was bothering you,+ Ryan greeted cordially. +Good to have you here.+

Plunging his wrist-blade into a bug-looking Zoanoid’s head, Ryan ripped it out and kicked the next-closest Zoanoid in the chest.

Focusing on the Gravity Controller the way Sho had told him to, Ryan felt something humming at his waist. It was probably that Gravity Controller thing that Sho had talked about, but the feeling of something buzzing between his hands wasn’t exactly what Ryan had been expecting. That was probably the Pressure Cannon; looking down at his hands, Ryan saw something forming between them.

It was some weird kind of air distortion that looked like a small black hole. Or at least what Ryan thought a black hole would look from his astronomy studies. Once the thing had fully formed, Ryan slammed it into the head of the nearby lizardlike Zoanoid and watched gleefully as the thing’s head exploded.

Gathering up another mini black hole, Ryan fired it at another Zoanoid. Then, extending his wrist-blades again, Ryan dove into the midst of the attacking Zoanoids.