Disclaimer: I do not own Endless Ocean: Blue World or the Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers. I am not making money off of this fanfiction; it's purely for laughs, kicks, and giggles.

Author's Note: Despite how well or how awful you think this concept works out, I'll let you know now that it takes place before Tommy appears in Power Rangers: Dino Thunder. The team has been disbanded and gone their separate ways since, and we'll find out exactly where as we go.

Possible things you should know: I have a series of fanfictions that goes with this particular story (partially written and unwritten). References may be made to how Trini saved Billy in outer space, and visitors throughout the story may drop hints as to things you may not know about (but these will not be plot-centric).

Lost Treasures

Chapter One - The Poker Game

"Call."

There was a long, silent pause from the old man's opponent. The old man's gray beard seemed to bristle with the effort of summoning the word again to his tongue. "I said call."

Again, he was met with hesitant silence. Jason Scott surveyed the old man over a small pile of valuables heaped in the middle of the nicked table between them. There was a fair amount of U.S. currency, some of the local pelagos that the South Pacific people used, Jason's favorite watch...and one roughly-written deed. The deed had what looked like a sea chart on the back, but Jason hadn't thought to question it; the hand of cards hadn't been that important to him.

Initially.

Now that he was positive he had won, Jason wasn't so sure. Maybe the hand hadn't been important to him, just the old sea captain sitting across the table. The deep weathered creases around the old man's eyes weren't just from age. They were from sorrow. More than a little pain.

What was the man trying to lose by betting this deed on one cheap hand of poker?

Jason hadn't even been interested in gambling that balmy afternoon in Hawaii. He had been interested in having a bite to eat at a small cafe near the ocean while he waited for Zack. His friend's flight from L.A. had been delayed a couple of hours leaving, so he had had the extra time to spend finding lunch alone.

The open-air seating outside the small white restaurant faced the glistening beach, with a tempting view of the crashing ocean waves. Tourists wandered along the beach, as did some of the native islanders out on their lunch breaks. Some came into the cafe right off of the beach, and the chairs had filled in no time.

Since he had nothing better to do, Jason occupied his solitary table through the busiest of lunch time, enjoying the view, the salt air, and the hibiscus-scented breeze. He had been so mesmerized by the surfers out on their brightly-colored boards that he hadn't noticed the old man sit down at his table in one of the unoccupied chairs.

The man didn't give a name; he had removed a deck of well-used playing cards from the pocket of his stained sailor's trousers and was shuffling them absently, as if he wasn't aware of Jason's presence.

Jason had darted a look around; the cafe had slowly began to empty of other patrons so there were other seats. He wondered if he should say something, but the old man beat him to it.

"Care to play me a hand?"

He had hesitated, but the man continued, "You look like a good learner. I'll teach you a favorite game of the natives around here. Just a couple of hands and you'll be a pro."

Jason shrugged. "Sure. I've got time."

The old man cut the deck and started passing out cards. As his leathery hands rhythmically dealt out the hands, he asked, "Ever played a game called Nineball?"

Jason had replied that he had heard of it, but never played. The old man made a sound that could have been a chuckle as he set the remaining deck of cards between them and picked up his hand.

"No matter. This game is called..."

That had been fifteen or so hands ago. Jason shook his head as the old man tapped the table impatiently with two fingers. "Call, son." This time the words were sorrowfully insistent, as if the old man wanted it to be over with.

Jason slowly laid his hand down on the table. The old man let out a quiet sigh and sagged back into his chair. Then he laid his own cards out for Jason to see. It was an average hand, but not enough to beat Jason's. Almost not worth carrying a bluff for.

Then, as if a spell had been broken, the old man briskly swept all the cards up between his hands and put them back in his pocket. "Good hand, son," he said, standing.

Jason quickly stood. "Wait, you can't-"

The old man interrupted, gazing out at the ocean. "Your eyes show that you respect the ocean. I know you'll do well." With that, he gave Jason one last, unreadable look, and left the cafe by way of the wooden boardwalk connecting it with the street.

Hesitating only a second, Jason collected the small pile of money, his watch, and the curious deed and followed. He saw the old man bend over a young woman in a wheelchair. Her back was to Jason, but he saw the slump of her shoulders as the old man spoke to her. She reached up to embrace him, and then the pair was gone.

The buzz of his cell phone in his pocket brought Jason back to the reality of the boardwalk on the sandy beach and mechanically he reached to answer.

"Hey Jase! My flight just landed, where are you?" Zack's cheerful voice seemed to wash away the haze of surrealism surrounding him. Jason quickly glanced at the watch he was still gripping with a mixed handful of money and made a face he was glad Zack couldn't see.

"I'm just getting in the car," he improvised, turning in the direction of the hotel and starting to run. "I should be there by the time you get out of the baggage claim." Jason darted a quick look to either side as he dashed through a pedestrian crosswalk.

"Great. Hey there's this girl I met on the plane that you-"

"Zack, buddy, I'd love to hear about the friends you made on your flight, but I've gotta drive," Jason interrupted quickly. He jammed his cell phone between his chin and his shoulder as he tried to rearrange all the items in his possession in order to find the electronic key to the SUV he had rented.

"Right. See you in a few!"

Jason rolled his eyes as he jumped in the driver's seat and started the engine. He threw the vehicle in reverse so fast it would have made any Turbo Ranger proud and floored it out of the parking lot.

Zack was waiting at the curb outside the Arrival gate, bedecked with at least four different colored leis and still chatting it up with one of the Polynesian girls. Jason pulled up and let the car idle while he got out and opened the trunk.

"Jase! Good to see you!" Zack said, turning his attention to his long-time friend. "Man, we need to have this kind of vacation more than once a year." He hefted his large black duffel bag and threw it into the SUV with ease.

"How would the music scouting industry in L.A. survive without you to guide them?" Jason teased, lifting an accompanying black suitcase that felt like it was filled with bricks. He dropped it beside the duffel and slammed the trunk.

"Man, that's what conference calls are for," Zack said. His wide smile was enough to restore Jason's normal good spirits. "So, you ready to hit the beach?"

Jason had to laugh. "You just got in; you can't tell me you have that much energy."

His friend shook his head, jiggling the multitude of leis around his neck. "It's the whole tropical spirit. I could bust some dance moves right here. This is gonna be great, Jase."

Zack's spirit was infectious; Jason fished in his pocket for the car keys. "Well, let's get the party started!" But his hand closed around a crinkled piece of paper and Jason's smile faded.

He pulled the deed out of his pocket, ignoring Zack's colorful descriptions of all the food he wanted to try as soon as they could find an authentic Hawaiian restaurant that took Visa. The edges of the paper were slightly stained, but the document was printed in a readable typeface and signed in all the appropriate places.

"Jase? What's with the frown? What are you looking at?" Zack asked.

Jason sighed abruptly. "Let's get in the car, man. I've got to tell you this now."

~ ! ~

"Well, obviously we're gonna need to charter a boat," Zack was saying an hour later, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. Which, Jason reflected, it was. But the sheer speed of Zack's understanding and command of the situation that was still so strange to Jason was kind of annoying.

"Where are we going to find someone to do that at this hour of the day?" he asked a bit impatiently. "We'll have to wait until tomorrow."

Zack fiddled with a shrimp as he thought. "Well, we don't want to blow our entire vacation budget on trying to convince someone to take us out now, so you're right. But that doesn't mean we can't line somebody up to take us there first thing in the morning."

Jason rolled his eyes as he remembered what Zack's definition of 'first thing' was in regards to mornings, even when he wasn't going to be jet-lagged. He sighed and reached for his drink.

"Now the first place to start," Zack was saying aloud, "is the nearest dock. This is Hawai'i; the land of tourism! Someone's bound to be available."

"But look at the map, bro," Jason said, shifting the pages between them. "These are coral reefs; we can't just have anyone take us out there."

"All right, so it needs to be a native." Zack dunked the last shrimp in the tangy sauce between them and ate it quickly. "Come on, let's go. It's not quite sunset; there may still be a good selection of skippers down at the closest pier." He signaled for the nearest waiter.

"And then what are we going to do?" Jason asked. "We don't even know what's on the island!"

"That's where my little digital video camera comes in." Zack handed his credit card to the waiter, who vanished. "We need to find out what there is; what needs to be done. What could we do with our own private island?"

Jason sighed. He wasn't going to win this argument...not that he wanted to. "Maybe we could rent it out to tourists," he said half-heartedly. "I mean, the most use we'll get out of it is once a year when we go on vacation together."

Zack shrugged. "Maybe we could build a hotel on it." The waiter reappeared and handed Zack the receipt; Zack signed it accordingly and jumped up, ready to go.

"With what money?" Jason said, near exasperation. He knew he wasn't loaded with cash; owning his own part time web business only paid part of the bills. Jason also worked on cars for the rest of his cash flow. Somehow, it was as close to getting to work on a 'zord as he could get...and he still enjoyed it.

"Share holders, man. Share holders," Zack said, leading the way out of the restaurant. They were on one of the busier streets of the city, and as they got their bearings tourists and natives alike jostled around them. The warm island breeze brought the music of a street band to their ears, and Zack's head cocked slightly as he considered the inherent musical quality.

"Boat?" Jason reminded his friend. "The closest pier is probably toward the water." His deadpan tone was enough to make Zack send a mock glare at him, and the pair ventured toward the beach.

"Okay, so not a hotel. Think, Jase! At least if there's a habitable building or two on the island we at least wouldn't have to pay for hotels every time we came." Zack picked up his former train of thought without missing a beat.

"No, we'd just have to pay to rent a boat the entire time we were here," Jason replied.

"Man, why are you so down on this? This is supposed to be a vacation!"

Jason sighed. "I don't know. If you'd been there-if you'd seen the old guy and just the look on his face when he was finally rid of the deed...I just have a bad feeling about it."

The pavement beneath their feet abruptly gave way to weathered planking. Lights were just starting to flicker on over the many numerous signs painted every color of the rainbow, designed to attract tourist attention. Some offered tours of coral reefs; some water skiing or tubing; others had glass-bottomed boats for watching marine life.

Jason and Zack let their eyes rove over each individual sign, but there was one that immediately commanded their attention. It wasn't the sign's size, or the relatively new paint that caught their attention. It was the phrase carefully lettered along the bottom in precise strokes.

'Mysterious maps, pictures, charts, and other rumors entertained here!'

The charter company appeared to be owned by a single person, for her name was embellished with a cowboy hat and hibiscus flowers.

"Nancy's Native Charter and Tour Guiding," Zack read aloud. A string of bright paper lanterns twinkled merrily at him as they lit the pier's walkway to where a black and white boat was tied up at the very end.

Jason inhaled a deep breath and then sighed. "If she can do everything her sign says she can, then maybe she won't think we're crazy." He studied the map attached to the deed in the bobbing light of the lanterns.

"Sometimes it takes a certain brand of crazy to get anything adventurous done," Zack said with a mischievous grin. At one time, that grin had meant only one thing: morphin' time. Zack was right, there was a certain insane, adrenaline-rushing crazy adventure feeling that went with being a Power Ranger.

Jason didn't feel it; not yet. But as Zack started down the wooden pier, there was a bounce in his step-the anticipated thought of excitement yet to come. "Come on, Jase!"

There were a couple of real lanterns illuminating the boat as they approached. A woman was sitting on the edge of the pier, a weathered guitar in her hands. "Aloha, gentlemen," she greeted, tilting her cowboy hat back with one hand. "What can I do for you?"

Jason decided it was up to him to take the lead, before Zack could really open his mouth and get them all carried away in his excitement. "We liked the look of your sign," he said with a casual smile, trying to project that he knew exactly how to charter an expedition.

"I'm what you'd call a new face to the chartering business; glad to know that billboard is doing it's job," the lady replied easily. She set her guitar down gently and reached to shake their hands. "I'm Nancy, in case that hat on the sign hid my name."

"I'm Jason," Jason supplied.

"Zack," his friend said simply. "So...you're new around here?" There was the definite sound of a warning in his voice.

"Oh, nah. I could pilot any you to any one of the little islands around here with my eyes closed," Nancy reassured him. "Just new to chartering. I also do supply trips for folks, appraisal for sunken treasure, some buying. Finally upgraded to a boat that could do more-meet Nancy's Fancy." She swept a proud gaze along the sleek lines of her black and white skiff. Little points of light danced off of the shiny hull as the paper lanterns overhead bobbed to and fro. "I just call her the Fancy for short."

"Well, your sign mentioned charts, and we have one of those," Jason said, unfolding the deed so that only the map showed. He held it out to Nancy, who beckoned them both over to a lantern hanging from a hook near the boat.

She peered at the neat drawing, and Jason swore afterwards that a strange expression passed over her face. Zack always told him it had been the shadows from the flickering illumination, but he didn't believe his friend.

"I know the island," Nancy said quietly after a long moment. "It's a half-day's trip out."

"Have you been to it?" Zack asked eagerly.

"Not in awhile," she replied with a shrug. "It's abandoned; has been for a couple of years. So, me and the Fancy will be taking you there tomorrow?"

"That...depends," Jason hedged. "What are your rates?"

There was only a hint of merriment left in Nancy's eyes, but she answered him cheerfully enough. "As it happens, I'm in an interesting situation. No reputation to speak of, no pretty pamphlets to hand out to tourists...how about a trade? A low charter rate in exchange for a good, honest review that I can put on some promotional stuff." She then quoted an unbelievably low price per hour to them.

Zack's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. He and Jason had of course gone on other boating tours over the years they'd come to Hawaii, but never attempted to charter a boat alone. Nancy's price, when calculated out, was going to be half, if not less, than a normal, three-hour coral reef tour.

"Yeah," Zack blurted before Jason had a chance to recover. "That's fantastic!"

Nancy smiled at him and went to her boat; she plucked a clipboard from a hook and made some markings on the top sheet of paper. "Here's a one-day contract," she said. "Sign where I marked it; I only take cash or check and we'll settle up at the end of tomorrow."

Zack, who was more accustomed to reading contracts and other legal jargon, ran a practiced eye down the paper before nodding to Jason, who signed it and dated it. Zack followed suit, and before they knew it, they were headed back to their hotel with the time 5:00 a.m. firmly ingrained in their internal calendars. Jason was already programming a 4:00 alarm into his cell phone before he forgot.

He let himself and Zack into their shared hotel room. After showering, brushing his teeth, and checking his email, Jason found himself laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He was almost too excited to sleep.

"Zack?" he asked after a moment as his best friend piled up the pillows on his own bed before lying down.

"Yeah?"

"What do you think we're going to find?"

There was a pause. Then: "I don't know man. But we're going to find something. That much I'm sure about."