Second chapter is done and it's Tori's turn to get a voice. I'm planning on telling this story through three main viewpoints: Hunter, Tori and Blake, but other characters will get their own input also!

Thanks again to RebelPaisley for beta-ing; especially for turning my Britishisms into Americanisms!

Enjoy

~the real vampire~


2. Tori


Usually the queen of figuring out
Breaking down a man is no work out
But I have no clue
How to get through to you

~Katy Perry


I pride myself on my ability to read others.

It's a knack I've always had, being able to see underneath the surface, beyond the fronts people put up. See through the lies and half-truths to the people they really are. To the person they don't want to be seen as.

Everyone does it, whether they know it or not; present a face to the world that isn't really them, but rather the them they want people to believe they are. Their fronts put their best features first, and hide all their insecurities, flaws and petty jealousies. But personalities are a bit like a surfboard; you can put a sheet over it but you can still see what shape it is underneath.

Still, people try. Some hide more of themselves than others. Some are better at it than others.

I know my teammates do it.

And I can see what they don't want to be seen.

Shane likes to show the world his tough, capable, composed side. He definitely likes to think he's in control, but underneath he worries he's not cut out to lead us. He doesn't see his potential. He's insecure, thanks to his wonderfully overbearing father and golden boy brother. I've met Porter a couple of times, college-graduate and successful businessman, but not a whole lot of nice. Shane feels pressure to follow in his footsteps. He thinks he's not good enough as he is. But instead of focusing on his good points, which are many, he focuses on his flaws, his imperfections, seeing every mistake as a devastating personal blow. He thinks no one notices, he thinks we're blind to how he much he beats himself up, but I'm not.

Dustin always comes across as an airhead. Goofy, scatterbrained and woefully naive; people often assume he's careless, but he's actually incredibly caring. We've been best friends since kindergarten and I know he's not as stupid as he appears to be. He's cleverer than he looks; he just doesn't have as much common sense as he should have. It doesn't help that he's very trusting – too trusting – and he gets taken advantage of. Like when he befriended Blake and Hunter and they betrayed us all. I know he was hurt by that a lot more than he let on, but he's also wonderfully forgiving. He can bounce back from adversary in a way I'm genuinely jealous of. I wish I could let go of bad feelings the way he can.

Cam's almost the opposite of Dustin. He doesn't trust easily, and he forgives even less. He hides it well, always with calm professionalism, but underneath I know he's still annoyed that Shane, Dustin and I were given the Wind morphers. We haven't done too badly since then, but we've got a long way to go before we earn his respect. I can see his point of view; we weren't exactly model students before Lothor arrived, but I'd like to think we've acquitted ourselves well enough since then to show we do our positions proud. I actually get along pretty well with Cam. I think it helps I was the most responsible one out of our group before we became Rangers. He thinks I was held back by Shane and Dustin, and I'll admit there's probably some truth in that. But at the same time, I firmly believe that it's our friendship that makes us work well as a team.

As I said, everyone puts on a front, to varying degrees. Even me. I hide my fears for my friends and future behind a cheerful exterior which I know sometimes grates on people's nerves. I used to think Shane was the biggest culprit, but then I met him.

Hunter freaking Bradley.

Dark, brooding and mysterious. I find my abilities fail me when it comes to the newest addition to our team. He's the complete opposite of his brother. Blake's the most honest and open person I think I've ever met, which is strange when you consider the life he's had. Not that I know much about it. I'm sure Blake would tell me, but I haven't really brought myself to ask for details. It's not exactly something you can bring up in casual conversation.

Blake really seems to be trying with us. Not just because we're a team, but because he genuinely wants to be our friends. My friend. I know how upset he was when Lothor's deception was revealed, and not just because he'd been so close to the man who had killed his parents, but because of how he'd treated us. How he treated me. He's determined to make amends, to be part of the team and earn our trust. He's thrown himself whole-heartedly into his new life, not only as a Ranger, but also attending our High School and working at Storm Chargers.

He... fits. He's made the effort to fit.

But Hunter… Hunter extrudes this tough, brooding, bad-boy air, but I thought once we became teammates we'd scratch the surface and find a softer side to him. For a while I thought we had, but I'm beginning to realise 'nice' Hunter is just as much of an act. His cooperative, teammate-y side he puts up is just as fake as his tough, taciturn one.

I'm beginning to realise a lot of things about Hunter, like the fact he's not being friendly; he's being civil. He's not being nice; he's just not being mean. And when Blake broke Lothor's compulsion on the island and Hunter said we were his friends, what he actually meant was we weren't his enemies. It's quite a distinction. I keep trying to find what's underneath, but I don't even see hints. There's just nothing. And there can't just be nothing. The real Hunter is locked away behind walls that must be made of adamantium, to use a superhero reference (I'm blaming Dustin for that one). I can't break through. I keep trying, but he manages to rebuff my every attempt without even looking like he's trying to.

Tonight's a perfect example. He's pleasant enough when he turns up at Shane's, but it's politeness rather than genuine warmth. I caught myself watching him during Dustin's pizza antics and he was just standing there. There was no reaction, no flicker of humour or amusement, no response at all for a good few seconds. And then something seemed to click in his head and a smile instantly appeared on his face, as fake and as insincere as if he'd painted it onto a mask. It was almost as if he remembered he was meant to be nice Hunter tonight and began to act like it.

Act being the key thing here. It wasn't natural.

It's never natural with Hunter.

His smile never reaches his eyes and I realise I've never heard him laugh. Not really laugh. What I have heard from him is either sarcastic or bitter, or both.

Never real laughter.

I've finally come to the conclusion that nothing about Hunter is real. Everything is a show, a carefully considered front. He's going through the motions, showing us what he thinks we want to see when in fact he's not showing us anything at all.

So I'm surprised when he jumps up less than midway through the film, so suddenly it's as if he's been stung. He says he's just getting a refill, but the way he almost runs out of the room tells me this is a reaction to something. A real reaction. After a minute I decide to follow him. I don't know why, but I find I need to know who this guy really is.

Because it's not who he's pretending to be.

He's not in the kitchen so I wait around for a few minutes until he does arrive. He seems fine at a glance, but looking closer I notice there are faint bags under his eyes. He looks… tired.

As I watch him, I realise we've never really been alone together. I've hung out with him with the others but it's never just been the two of us and I wonder why. He stands there for a while, as if he's waiting for me so say something but I don't. I want him to speak first. He doesn't of course. Instead he ignores me and goes to get himself some soda.

Fine then, I'll go first.

"Are you ok?"

I figure my question is innocent enough. But I'm just as surprised as he is when he spills the drink; I didn't expect anything to be able to make him jump. He doesn't make any move to clean it up, just stands there staring.

"Hunter?" I'm worried now. It's not like him to phase out like this. It's more of a Dustin thing.

His eyes focus on me at last as I start mopping up the spilled liquid with some kitchen towel, and he mumbles some excuse about being tired. I'm not sure I believe him, but I tell him to get some rest, sympathetically covering his hand with mine. I don't even think about it, I just do it, but he jerks his hand away from me as if I'm on fire.

His apology is hollow, empty, but I think he's genuine when he says, "I would leave but Blake's having fun."

Ah. There's more in those words than he meant to say. Blake may be having fun, but Hunter… "And you're not?"

He comes up with some excuse about not liking the movie, and then quickly tries to deflect, to get us back into the room with the others, to get away from me and my prying. I sigh, but then I remember he's been working all day and if he doesn't want to hang out with us, then he shouldn't feel obliged to. I tell him that, and offer to drive Blake back, figuring the reason he hasn't left already is because doesn't want his brother walking home alone. I'm not expecting his reaction.

He doesn't quite slam his glass down on the side, but it's close. "Then I'll go."

His tone has an almost hurt quality to it, and I realise how he's taken my words. He thinks we don't want him here. Of all the stupid, pig-headed, idiotic thoughts to have… Can't he see we all just want to be friends with him? He's the one being difficult.

I can't keep the exasperation from my voice as I call his name, stopping him from walking away. But then something makes me pause.

He thinks we don't want him here.

That was the first thought his mind jumped to. Not 'I'm worried about you', not 'you need to take care of yourself' but 'we don't want you here'.

How… terribly sad. Not to mention insecure. I'd never have thought of the words 'Hunter' and 'insecure' in the same sentence, but now I find myself doing just that.

I guess I can't blame him, not really. We haven't exactly made the effort to include him in things. Blake yes; Hunter, not so much.

I find myself wanting to explain my words, "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant if you weren't enjoying yourself we're not going to force you to stay. You need sleep." I try and inject lightness into my tone, "Can't burn the candle at both ends you know."

There's a strange expression on his face, as if for a moment he wants to yell at me, but then he sighs, "Sorry Tori, I know what you meant. I'm just really tired. Will you give the others my apologies? And see Blake gets home safe?" His tone is gentle, submissive.

I think he's humouring me.

And I'm not impressed.

But I sense tonight isn't the time or place to push this, so I agree and let him go. When I go back in to the movie room sans Hunter I get three pairs of eyes giving me curious looks. Well, two curious and one concerned. You can guess who the concerned ones belong to. Blake. Sure enough, he's the one that opens his mouth to speak first, but I beat him to it.

"Hunter's gone home. He's exhausted." I address my next words to Blake, "I promised him I'd drive you home when you're done here. There's no rush and no arguments." I stick my tongue out at him and throw myself down on a beanbag next to him.

He grins back at me and offers his arm for a hug, which quickly turns into cuddling. When the movie ends it's time for us to leave. Dustin's pretty much asleep; his sugar high from too much soda gone, leaving him crashed out on the sofa. Shane's fine to leave him there. It's not the first time we've left him after a movie night. Shane has a spare blanket in the room that's practically Dustin's now, given the amount he's slept under it. It's not worth trying to manhandle him home; a sleepy Dustin is unhelpful and whiney. No one wants to deal with that.

Blake stares out the window at the passing houses as I drive him home. The silence isn't uncomfortable, but there's an elephant in the van with us. I wait. The one thing I have learned about the Bradley brothers is that they won't speak until they're ready. Or they won't speak at all.

I'm about ready to scream at him before he starts talking at last.

"Tori, Hunter didn't… I mean he wasn't…" He trails off glumly and I glance over at him. I think I know what he's trying to say but I'm interested to see how he'll do it. "He didn't say something nasty did he?"

There it is.

Blake seems to have a low opinion of his brother, or rather, of his brother behaving around us. I can see he's always on edge, as if he's waiting for Hunter to mess up or say something wrong or anger one of us. Things have been good recently, as far as I can tell. Hunter's been playing nice. Once him and Shane got over their 'I'm the real leader' phase things have quietened down.

Blake's voice cuts through my thoughts, "He did say something didn't he? Tori I'm sorry, I'll speak to him."

"It's ok," I say with a laugh. "Hunter didn't say anything to me. Nothing nasty, I promise. He just said he was tired and he didn't like the movie."

"He told you he didn't like the movie?" Blake sounds surprised.

"Yeah." I'm focused on driving, making sure I take the right turning, so his tone of voice takes a moment to filter through. "What's the matter?"

We pull up outside the Bradley's apartment block and I stare up at the shabby building. I know Blake's not going to want to go inside until I drive away, and I'm not going to drive away until he goes inside. Always the impasse.

Blake doesn't make a move to get out. He seems on the brink of telling me something, but is uncertain, hesitant. Finally he sighs, "Hunter doesn't hate that movie. But it probably is why he left."

"What do you mean?" Unlike Hunter, I know I can push Blake for information. He's more talkative, much more willing to make the effort to get to know us, to get to know me. I want to know more about them. With knowledge is understanding, and both are missing when it comes to the Bradleys.

"The Great Escape was Dad's favourite film. He and Hunter used to watch it religiously every weekend. They knew all the words, everything. It was their thing." There's sadness in his voice as he speaks. I can tell by the look on his face that he's adrift in a sea of memories. I can't help but reach out to squeeze his arm, comforting. He gives me a very small smile in response. "Hunter hasn't watched it since… "

Since they died. He doesn't need to finish the sentence. I realise this is the first truly personal thing about Hunter I know. And I had to hear it from his brother.

Blake clears his throat, shaking off the melancholy that had fallen over him and replaces it with worry, "Don't… don't tell Hunter I told you that. He doesn't do personal."

I wouldn't dream of it. I tell him so and then say goodnight. He kisses me on the cheek and stands awkwardly outside the entrance until I give in and drive away.

Men.

Still, tonight's been interesting. It's certainly been a night of realisations.

Information swims through my brain, but I'm at a loss as to what to make of it. Yet.

XxX

I love Saturday mornings. That feeling of waking up in bed and knowing you don't have to get up unless you want to. The wonderful sensation of stretching out luxuriously, the sun shining in through my bedroom curtains, the breeze from the open window catching them and sending beams of light dancing across my bed covers. I could lie here forever. Could… but something better calls to me.

The surf.

The sound of waves breaking against the shore, mere yards from my window, is my alarm clock. It drags me from my bed, irresistibly drawing me into its cool embrace. How can I lie in when my true love is calling? The feel of the board hard beneath my ribs, the smell of salt mingled with the sweet coconut scent of the wax old friends. The waves loom above me and I push down onto my board, sinking beneath the oncoming white water. I feel the wave roll over me, but safe underneath it all is dark and silent. I surface, the experience of bright sunlight and noise of thunderous crashing waves a shock compared the underwater world I'd just exited, and paddle hard, hoping to make it out back before the next set arrives but I'm not quick enough. I have to fight through the swirling white water that threatens to rip my board from me, struggling against the forces of nature, in a maelstrom of salty water and seething froth.

Suddenly all is calm. I've made it through the melee and now all is peaceful. I sit up, straddling my board, and gaze back to shore. The beach is still deserted but I know it won't be for long. I enjoy the silence while it lasts, savouring the sun's warmth on my face, the brisk swim out having removed the last vestiges of sleep from my body. I feel awake, invigorated, alive.

I'm in no hurry to catch a wave. I used to be, when I was younger, the rush the only thing I thought about, but now I love just being out in the ocean. It truly is my element. I never feel as complete and content as I do when I'm out on my board. Just me, surrounded by nothing but empty water.

I know people are intimidated, scared, by the ocean, by the nothing, but I've never felt that. It's always felt like home.

I track the sun as it rises higher and I can feel the rays' heat strengthen. It's going to be another glorious Californian day. I judge I've been out about an hour when the cars start turning up, filled with other surfers, and I know it's time for me to leave. My peace will soon be shattered.

I paddle back into the line up and wait for the perfect wave. It doesn't exist, but occasionally one comes close. I let a few pass beneath my board before a decent one rears its head. Not huge, only about four foot, but well formed. It'll do for today. I turn to face the shore and paddle hard; fast, sure, strong strokes, until I feel the tail of my board lift and I know I've caught it. In a smooth, well-practiced motion I pop up, feet landing beneath me in their familiar place. I ease my weight onto my front leg and I'm flying. I love the sensation of speed and the injection of adrenaline that rushes through me as I make the drop.

I could turn back up the face to prolong the ride, but a flash of colour on the beach catches my eye. Two figures in red and yellow shirts are watching me and I know it's time to go. I ride the wave back to the shore and run up the sand to meet them. Shane and Dustin grin at me; the fact they knew to come to the beach to find me this early on a Saturday morning shows I am a creature of habit.

It's only a short walk from the sea to my house, where the boys have breakfast pressed on them by my mother while I'm getting showered. My parents know about the whole ninja school thing. They were both water ninjas there when they were my age; it's how they met. Then my dad went off to medical school and my mum travelled the world as a pro surfer, but their paths led them back to each other eventually. Now my dad's a local GP and mom runs her own surf school and coaches the junior surf team in her spare time. It's not that unusual; most students have at least one parent who trained at a ninja school. Ninja powers are commonly hereditary; passed on from generation to generation.

But out of the three of us, I'm the only one whose entire family knows. It makes things a hell of a lot easier. Dustin learned about ninjas from his grandmother. His grandfather was an earth ninja but died before Dustin was born. Grandma Brooks recognised he'd inherited his grandfather's gift and used what he had told her to put Dustin in touch with Sensei Kanoi. Dustin's very close to his grandma, in part because she's the only one that knows.

Shane learned about the Wind Academy from his mother. She had a talent for air but left the school to go to college and have a career. She's now CEO of some big, multi-million dollar company, married to a successful corporate lawyer who has no idea that ninjas are real. When Shane began to show some signs of being an air ninja she encouraged him to join the Wind Academy to pursue it. But she's hardly at home, and no one else in his family knows his secret.

My parents also know about the Power Rangers. How could they not? Three spandex-clad superheroes saving their town on an almost, but thankfully not quite, daily basis is pretty hard to miss. They know they're from the Wind Academy; they just don't know one of them is me. It's the one secret I can't share. My parents would act cool with it, I'm sure. But I don't want to worry them.

This burden isn't theirs to bear.

The shower feels good; hot water washing the salt from my skin and hair. I stand there for a while, just enjoying the sensation of the water hammering down on me and the scent of my shampoo surrounding me. I love showers. I find them very soothing, almost meditative. I could stay here for a long time, but I finally drag myself out to get dressed and rescue the boys from my mother.

It's a pleasant walk from where I leave the van to the waterfall that hides the entrance to the Wind Academy. The heat of the sun hasn't quite penetrated the beneath the trees yet, so it's lovely and cool. The boys are in a good mood. No alien attacks yesterday and a solid night's sleep means they're rested and happy. My surf this morning has put me a good mood too, so it's with high spirits we make our way up to where our Academy used to stand.

Hunter's already at Ninja Ops when we arrive. It makes me feel like we're late. Which is silly because we're the only students and since the whole 'becoming Power Rangers' thing Sensei has been fairly lenient with our time keeping. I see Shane glowering at the older Bradley brother and I know I'm not the only one that feels like that. Shane feels threatened by Hunter. That much is obvious. Shane was insecure enough about being our leader before the Bradleys turned up and then suddenly there was Hunter. Cool, calm, collected and very much in charge. Hunter's not used to anyone arguing with his leadership, and Shane's unaccustomed to people following him without question, as Dustin and I will happily let him know when we disagree with him while Blake's happier to let the leader, well, lead. I guess there's always going to be tensions when two different teams have to work together, but especially so when they have a different ethos.

Speaking of the other Bradley, Blake's nowhere to be seen. I'm puzzled for all of about two seconds before I remember he has the early shift at Storm Chargers this morning. He'll be here in about an hour. We settle ourselves around the table in the main room, pulling out various textbooks and paper. Saturday mornings mean homework at Ninja Ops. Sensei is very strict on this. It's his way of saying that one day Lothor isn't going to be around and we need to focus on our futures without him. It's the clearest statement he could give of his faith in us, and I love him for it.

A comfortable peace falls on the room as we're all focused on our work. The only noise is the occasional rustling of papers and Cam tapping on his keyboard. I think he's working on the zords but I can never tell. Computers are not my strong suit. Only Hunter is restless, pacing for a while behind Cam until our technician loses his patience and tells him to go away. Cam doesn't have a great opinion of Hunter; he thinks he's only good for fixing bikes and fighting aliens.

I hope he's wrong.

I catch myself once again watching Hunter and have to give myself a quick mental shake. I'm meant to be doing homework; figuring out our broody crimson ranger is just going to have to wait. I'm about to turn back to my assigned reading for AP English, but at that moment Dustin groans and chucks his pen down in frustration, "Dude, I give in. This physics stuff is rubbish. I don't get it at all."

Shane looks over at his paper and shakes his head, "Sorry bro, can't help you there. I'm struggling on that question too."

They both glance at me and I shake my head, "Don't even go there. I'm not taking physics, remember? You two geniuses thought because the class schedule had the word 'mechanics' in it, it would all be about bikes and stuff." Dustin opens his mouth to protest and I raise an eyebrow at him, "I'm pretty much quoting what you said on the first day of school." He grins at me instead.

Shane doesn't, "I never said that. I'm considering engineering at college. If I can't get my head around fluid mechanics though I'm screwed."

He gives Cam a contemplating look and I know he's considering how much he'll get yelled at if he disturbs him. I brace myself for the lecture I know is coming should Shane ask, but instead our leader surprises me.

"Hey Hunter," he calls the blond over from where he's wedged himself unobtrusively in a corner of the room, reading one of Dustin's motocross magazines that are always left around.

Hunter uncurls himself and drops the magazine on the seat behind him before casually making his way over to join us. In my eyes, the casualness is unnatural. He's trying too hard; every single movement deliberate.

"Yes?" He stops just out of reach of the table, arms crossed over his chest, very defensive. His tone isn't flat out nasty, but it's not particularly warm either.

Shane hasn't noticed, "You must have done something like this at school, right? I don't suppose you could have a look at see if you can make sense of it at all?"

This could be interesting. I don't know what I expect Hunter's reaction to be, but I find myself surprised once again.

"No."

That's it, nothing else. No apology, no explanation, just a single, unfriendly word.

I find myself scanning his face, trying to see beneath his mask but his expression is unreadable, closed off, and there's iron behind his blue eyes.

Shane's suddenly standing and I can see his anger evident in his posture, barely contained. When it comes to Hunter, Shane's temper has a very short fuse.

"You're not even going to look?" he asks between gritted teeth.

Hunter stares at him stonily, his silence his only answer.

It only infuriates Shane more and he begins to square up to the taller man, "What is your problem?"

Hunter's only reply is an almost imperceptible shift in his stance which tells me he's ready to fight if Shane pushes it.

Dustin's looking between at them both in shock. He really doesn't like confrontation, and this has spiralled out of control very quickly. You can cut the tension in the room with a knife as the two male gorillas stare at each other. I'm just getting ready to jump up to separate them when Cam's voice slices through the air, "That's enough."

Oh great, they've disturbed Cam. Never a good idea.

"Am I needed here?" Hunter's voice is calm, disinterested. He's speaking to Cam, though his eyes never leave Shane.

"Clearly not." Cam's answer is as sarcastic as I'd suspected it would be.

The blonde just nods and walks out of Ninja Ops without a single word or backwards glance. The tension leaves as he does. Shane sits back down and pulls his physics textbook viciously towards him, knocking a couple of pens off the table as he does. He's fuming. Cam's already turned back to his computer and I expect the commotion is already gone from his mind. Dustin and I exchange looks, his worried and confused while mine is just… thoughtful.

What the hell just happened?

I have no idea. Another mystery to add to the enigma that is Hunter Bradley. As I turn back to my own work, I wonder who he is, what makes him so disagreeable, why the attitude?

And why am I so fascinated by him?