Disclimer: I do not own Power Rangers, and I'm broke.
A/N: Another chapter, so enjoy!
Flynn dropped the hood on his H3, as Scott named it, and grinned, "There," he told Scott, "That should do it." He patted the hood of the truck with a fond smile. He had only just started the work of restoring the vehicle, but he was already feeling fond of her.
Scott looked up from his position hovering over his jeep's engine. "You're fast," he commented. He glanced at his jeep with the same expression he had presented his last attempt to cook. It was the kind of look that indicated complete disinterest in the subject at hand.
Flynn lifted a shoulder as he picked up the rag on top of his dad's other gift, a complete tool kit, and began to clean his hands. "I'm just doing my job, Scott. Besides, I would rather pick up our lass in this rather than your monster." He looked from his second hand truck to Scott's jeep and knew his friend was making the same comparison. While the truck looked second hand and all, the jeep looked like duck tape and chewing gum were all that held it together.
"You don't know that we'll settle for a girl," Scott reminded him as he shut the jeep's hood, clearly conceding victory to the ancient, and badly damaged, vehicle; "we might chose a guy."
"It's possible," Flynn admitted in a tone Scott knew meant he was humoring him, "are we going to get the files back for the final group?" He asked as he headed across the floor of their headquarters for the kitchen.
"No," Scott said as he followed, "the guys who handled the testing will select the top candidates and set up the interviews. We just have to show up that morning." He took a seat on one of the stools and leaned on the bar. "I want you to be in the room, Flynn. Whoever our teammate is, we have to both be able to get along with him or her."
"And how are we supposed to know that?" Flynn asked, as he washed his hands at the sink. "There has to be astronomical odds that we can agree on one person, and have that person be the right person for the job."
"That's a risk we have to take," Scott replied firmly, watching Flynn as the other man opened the fridge and began to look around. When Scott's stomach growled a warning, he hoped his friend was thinking about dinner.
"Ranger Red, Ranger Blue, please come to the Ranger Room," Dr K announced, his voice barely audible over the radio. Flynn shut the fridge and tossed Scott a peach, which he caught easily. "No food in the Ranger Room," Dr K added.
"Come on, Doc," Scott groaned, "I'm hungry."
"Then perhaps you should have eaten earlier," Dr K replied.
Scott put the peach on the counter, wistfully, and Flynn threw his arm over Scott's shoulder, "Come on, after training, we can go visit my da. He has invited us to come over, remember, and if we call first, he'll make hamburgers."
"Ok," Scott replied.
The pair entered the ranger room, and faced Dr K's computer banks, "What's on the schedule today?" Flynn asked.
"Synchronization training," Dr K replied. "This is a skill that will save your life."
"Morphed?" Scott asked, as he always did.
"As you already know," Dr K replied, "you will begin unmorphed."
"Right," Scott said and followed Flynn into the training room.
K let her fingers come to rest on the keyboard as the simulation began. Then she reached over and activated her connection with Col. Truman. "Greetings, Dr K," Truman said, calmly. "Thank you for taking the time to contact me."
"It is no trouble," K replied, "the Rangers are training." She hesitated, and then added, "Scott is doing well. Although it is to his benefit that Flynn does not feel the need to challenge his leadership. I do not project much difficulty in the inclusion of another operator."
"That's good," Truman replied, and K thinks she sees his expression ease slightly. While she couldn't say that she understood the relationship that the father and son had developed; she didknow that Truman wanted to know how his son was doing. "I wanted to discuss with you the subject of the Ranger's transportation. I'm aware that McAllister has his new truck, but it is hardly the vehicle I would use when the Rangers are sent to bring visitors to the base."
"Will this be a…common occurrence?" Dr K asked.
"There are those who do not understand the project," Truman said, "some of them will need visual proof of the base."
"What do you suggest?" Dr K asked.
"I would like to provide Scott with a more, upscale means of transport," Truman said. He glanced away as one of his aids, Hicks; K thought, brought a folder over. "The thing is that I do not wish him to know I am doing so. If you could inform me of a time when my son will not be at the base, I will arrange for the vehicle to be delivered and left for him."
K nodded slightly, "He and Flynn are discussing going to Mr. McAllister's tonight. If that is not too soon, I will be prepared to permit people onto the base."
"It's not too soon," Truman replied, "Thank you, Dr K."
"You are welcome," K replied.
"Is there anything else I need to be aware of?" Truman asked.
"Dr Kendall will be spending time here," K replied, "to complete the work on the Series Black Rocket Blaster. Other than that, things will continue as they have begun, with the sole exception of training the operator for the Series Yellow biohardware in addition to Scott and Flynn."
"Very well," Truman nodded.
K winced as a large crash echoed out of the training room. "Excuse me, Colonel."
"Of course, Dr K," Truman agreed.
K turned back to the screen linked to the Ranger Room camera, and found that in her inattention, the Series Operators had managed to achieve new levels of incompetence, as they picked themselves up and regarded the rather large hole they'd created in the wall of the room. "I didn't think we could knock a hole in the wall," Flynn said, in a dismayed tone. She couldn't see his face through the suite, but she could easily picture his dismay.
"Apparently," K said, "you can, Ranger Blue," she keyed up a replay and winced as she saw how Flynn and Scott had gone down in a heap. "Unfortunately we will have to end training until the wall can be repaired. I suggest you think of ways to improve your coordination and synchronization in the meanwhile."
"No more training," Scott said, "just like that?" He hit the button on his suite to deactivate his helmet, "Doc, no offense, but I didn't think you ever slack on training."
"Due to the nature of your training, Ranger Red," K replied, struggling to refrain from making comments on Scott's ability to think. "Having a contained area is imperative. Therefore, continuing any training before the repairs are complete would be worthless. Where you not saying earlier that you were hungry?"
"Right," Scott replied, looking and sounding like it was a new thing for him to be hungry. He touched the buttons on his morpher, "Power down."
"Power down," Flynn echoed. "I still don't understand how we could knock a hole in the wall."
K felt a surge of anger sweep through her, "You did," she snapped, suddenly wishing for some solitude around the base. "And I strongly suggest you get cleaned up and go…somewhere. Anywhere that *isn't* here; for a few hours at least. If there's an emergency, I will contact you."
"Yes, Dr K," Scott said, he slung his arm over Flynn's shoulder. "Come on, Flynn. Let's go see if your dad will feed us."
"Your dad is the best cook, ever," Scott declared, as they turned down the alley that led to the base. "I really like him."
"I know," Flynn replied amusement and annoyance thickening his accent. "I especially like how eager the two of you were to start exchanging embarrassing stories about me."
"Well," Scott replied, "consider it revenge for what you said to my dad."
"I was trying to help," Flynn protested.
"I don't think there's anything that will 'help' my dad and I. We've had a rocky relationship for years," Scott stared out the window moodily as Flynn slowed down to let the doors open. "This, him being caught up in Marcus, isn't new either. I just wish he'd notice he had a living…"
Sitting in the area Flynn and he had designated their work space was a red sports car. "Sweet mother molasses," Flynn breathed as he parked his truck.
Scott slipped out of the car and walked over to the new vehicle. He trailed a single hand over the black hood, then up the driver's side. British, he noted, like Marcus's old car. He leaned down to look in at the black leather seats. A white envelope was sitting on the driver's seat and he picked it up. 'Scott' had been printed in a disturbingly familiar hand. He turned it over and opened the envelope. Inside was a card, on the front of which was a painted image of a young boy and a man, over which was written, Happy Birthday, Son. Inside was the standard well wishing poetry, but there was a note, also in that familiar handwriting. Keys in the ignition, title, with your name on it, with the records clerk. Tank is full, and insurance card is in the glove box. Try not to break the speed limit by more than twenty miles for the first week or so.
"Is it your birthday?" Flynn asked.
"Three days," Scott said, leaning in to look in the car; sure enough, there were the keys. "It's in three days. I'll be twenty-three."
"Ah and when were you going to tell me?" Flynn asked.
"Wasn't," Scott replied. "Didn't feel like celebrating the end of the world." He turned to Flynn, "Want to go for a ride?"
"No thank you," Flynn replied. "Like I said last time, I take no responsibility for the stupidity of others. You had more beer than I did, and I'd like to keep my skin in one piece to fight Venjix."
Scott nodded slightly, "Right," he said, "I probably am close to the legal limit." He patted the car absently, "We'll try her out tomorrow."
"After," Dr K injected, "you conduct Series Yellow interviews tomorrow. The training room will not be available until the day after; therefore, tomorrow is an ideal day to conduct interviews."
"Yes, Dr K," Scott replied. He had the nagging feeling that Dr K knew who had given him his car, but he didn't want to ask. If he knew, instead of just suspected, he would probably be angry. "Get to bed Flynn," Scott advised as he headed for the kitchen to get a drink. "We have to be ready to go by oh-eight hundred."
"I hope I can be awake by then," Flynn replied as he headed for the stairs.
"If you aren't up by oh-seven thirty then I'm going to wake you up," Scott replied, taking a glass from the cupboard; "with ice water if necessary."
Flynn's response wasn't actually audible, but Scott could imagine it. He was almost positive that the brief laugh he heard from Dr K's computer bank was also his imagination.