Eric Myers switched off the radio when the phone rang. He picked it up, putting up his usual impatient "Yes?" only to be informed with possibly the biggest case he ever got. "Thank you, I'll get right on it." He hung up.
Eric took the red beret just before leaving the office. Ever since the Silver Guardians went through the change by the end of 2002, in which the organization turned from providing security and protection, to crime solving and suspect apprehension, Eric only had one case that started in a similar fashion. It was the car crash that involved the death of Max Cooper and Danny Delgado, but due to lack of evidence, that case was closed and titled "accident".
"Where the hell is Wes?" he asked their secretary, a bright haired girl named Kira Ford who claimed she only worked there to save enough money for her music tour.
"He took a break five minutes ago, you know. Why, what's wrong?" she asked him, paying Eric only a bit more attention than she paid to her stapler.
"Break's over. I'm out for the rest of the day Ms. Ford, we've got a big case. Finish us… whatever you're doing here, and you're excused for the rest of the day." He said, while strapping the holster of his Quantum Defender shut using both hands. Wes could easily do it with only one hand, Eric never quite figured that out.
"Sure." She answered, focusing back on her stapler.
-
Eric stormed off the main Silver Guardians building as his hand reached for his shirt pocket. Just as he realized his car keys were missing, a blue SUV drove in. Wes stopped the car, and stepped outside. He tossed the car keys back to Eric with his right hand, and dropped the cigarette he held in his left one, turning it off by rubbing it against the road with his shoe.
"Didn't I tell you not to smoke in the car?" asked Eric.
"Didn't I tell you to start wearing a suit to work? What's up with the uniform anyway?" asked Wes, gazing his eyes over Eric's body, which was covered in his old navy Silver Guardian uniform.
"Discipline, young Mr. Collins." Answered Eric. He tossed the key back to Wes's hand, and took a seat at the passenger seat. "You're driving today."
Wes just sighed, put his common nonchalant smirk and went back into the car, igniting the engine while mumbling: "Whatever you say, partner."
"Where are we going anyway?" asked Wes after leaving the parking lot. His arm vibrating a bit as if he already wanted another smoke. Though one look at the angry, metallic Q-Rex head on Eric's gun was enough to calm his desire for nicotine, for a few moments.
"Treeville. It's in the map, believe me, I checked." Said Eric, his elbow leaning against the window, his eyes watching… whatever men of Eric's complicated nature would watch. "We have another former Ranger death, Trini Kwan, she's actually the very first Yellow Ranger."
Wes's eyes narrowed under his sunglasses, "Is this another accident they call us to investigate, since there isn't any other authority for Ranger issues?"
"Hardly," said Eric, his head still, his nose almost sticking to the window. "And wait, it gets better. Guess who the prime suspect is?"
Wes pulled his shoulders, "Why don't you just tell me, huh?"
"Billy Cranston. He was the very first Blue Ranger. It also turns out he dropped off the face of the Earth, literally, for around 10 years." Replied Eric, smiling an unusual smile at Wes.
"Innocent until proven guilty, I guess." Said Wes, turning his eyes from the road.
"Watch the road." Said Eric, Wes quickly complied, "Yeah sure, but we still need to do some detective work. Oh and Wes?"
"Yeah?"
Eric turned his head back at the window, focusing back on that invisible spot at the end of the horizon. "Don't call me partner."
And so the two drove off.
-
"Go away! Go away!" she cried in agony, as the never ending images of old memories hit her like tidal waves, over and over again. The burned faces faded away as felt a firm grip tightening around her shoulder and shaking her, almost as if driving away the evil ghosts that still held a reign of terror in her soul. That of course, was only temporary.
"Ma'am? Ma'am? Are you alright?" asked the owner of the hand that held her shoulder. The man let go of her shoulder as soon as he saw her waking up.
"Sure Jeremy, I'm good. Just fell a sleep." She said, while letting her sleepy eyes adjust to the fluorescent light engulfing the back of the truck. She slowly gained her senses and began examining the already familiar details. Jeremy, her young enthusiastic assistant sat on the bench right next to her. A stretcher was folded, standing vertically, almost disguising its negative nature as a body bag. In the glass, transparent drawers laid no less than two dozens of different tools and devices existing for the sole point of assisting people of their line of work in their business. The back of the truck was completely separated from its front, meaning the driver could neither see nor hear whatever they were doing there, which is probably for the best. The only link was a gray telephone nailed to one of the walls, just in case any side needed to let the other in on any piece of information.
Her navy vest hung on the fire extinguisher. It was opened and turned inside out, but she remembered what was written on it. On the back, the letters stated in white and bold: "Silver Guardians". On the front, where she would zip the vest around her torso, it mentioned, you guessed it, in the same bold and white font: "Medical Examiner". She always found that term amusing. A rather politically correct fashion of saying "Coroner", "Dr. Corpse", "Doctor for the dead" and many other cute nicknames. Of course, she wasn't always this way. She was once a pediatrician, once, in her long gone past. She can't do it again, she will not be able to sustain such a tragic incident again. In all her life, even when she was saving the world, she never faced such a terrifying thing as the thing that made her throw away her dream for becoming a surgeon for dead bodies.
-
The phone rang, Jeremy picked it up before it had a chance to ring for the second time. "Yes? Alright, we'll be prepared." He hung up, and turned to his superior co-worker, "We're there, we need to get ready."
"Sure thing." She said, and began getting the paperwork ready for their next case. She was tired, on the edge of unconsciousness. But she knew, she knew if she falls asleep again, the faces are bound to return.
"Ma'am, if you don't mind me saying that, you look like some of our clients. Are you getting enough sleep?" asked Jeremy, showing true concern.
"Jeremy, we're coroners. If we knew how to help keeping people alive, we wouldn't have been doing that." She replied, he knew not to push on her any further.
She turned the doorknobs and left the van, zipping her vest along the way. The police were everywhere, scattering around the crime scene like roaches. Jeremy, who followed her with the stretcher, now unfolded, made a comment about what are the odds the police didn't sabotage the murder scene. She didn't get a chance to contemplate on that, as she was approached by a police officer who clearly felt enough confidence to act stupid enough and say: "Lady this is a restricted area, would you mind going back behind the yellow line?"
She let out half a smile, "Dana Mitchell, medical examiner, Silver Guardians. Where is the body?"