Conwing is Saban's but extremely different from their version of him.
Rated PG-13 : harsh language; violence.
Please review, it keeps me going.
There were sounds. Voices. Unfamiliar ones. And what were voices doing in his bedroom? He hadn't slept with anyone in… too long. Eric cracked his eyes open, wincing at bright light. But it wasn't his bedroom he saw. Instead he was in a small room with dark walls and ceiling, lying on something harder than his bed. A couch of some kind, too small to be comfortable. He closed his eyes again in a moment of disorientation as a memory came back, standing outside his door, something -- someone -- grabbing him…
"Look, he's awake." It was a woman's voice.
"Good."
Eric looked up at the source of the voices and tensed in surprise and sudden fear, then pushed himself up, trying to get away, stopped by a wave of dizziness. A tall man with very white skin was crossing the room towards him. A strong-looking man, bald, his hands a little too big to be human, his fingers a little too long. The same mutant he had last seen when Commander Porter died.
"How do you feel?" he was asking.
"Where is this? What am I doing here?" Eric tried again, and made it to his feet by propping himself on the end of the couch.
"You're in a prison ship. Ransik's headquarters. My name is Conwing." The mutant had stopped several feet away.
"What do you want?"
"Don't worry. I mean you no harm. At least not tonight. Sit down, you don't look well."
"I'd rather stay where I am."
"Suit yourself." Conwing pulled a chair over and sat.
Eric risked a good look at the third person in the room. A woman, attractive, with bright pink hair. She smiled at him and said, "My name's Nadira. Ransik's my father."
"I remember you. You were robbing a store."
"Yes. And you shot at me." She pouted prettily.
"I'll ask again. What do you want with me?"
"All right. This may take a while. You really should sit down." This time Eric took his advice, moving a step and sinking down on the end of the couch, as far away as he could get. Conwing smiled, an expression that did nothing to relieve Eric's fears, and continued. "We have a slight -- problem. And so do you. Nadira and I were hoping we could help each other."
"What problem?"
"We want the supply of serum Bio-Lab manufactured."
"Why?"
"That's not your concern. We want it."
"Where's Ransik?"
Conwing's eyes narrowed. "That's also not your concern. And we want your help against the Rangers."
"The Rangers?"
Conwing smiled again. "I've seen you with them. You don't like them, do you? I saw you with the red Ranger, when we fought in the city. He called you by name. You know each other. And then I saw you quarrel with the Rangers in the park, before you were injured."
"You were watching?"
"Yes. You were arguing with the Quantum Ranger." His black eyes didn't quite hide a bright gleam of interest. "It looked like the same man. But maybe not. All humans look alike to me."
Eric saw no reason to say that he was sure the man in the park had not been Wes. He said only, "Go on."
"We want you to tell us who they are. Where they live. What their plans are. Anything else you know about them."
"What makes you think I'd help you?"
"For one thing, we know where you live. And where you work. Refuse and…" He smiled frostily, flexing those long, strong-looking fingers. "But there should be no need to resort to such things. As I said, we can help each other." His eyes focused on Eric's face. "I know what Venomark's bite can do. You'll have scars, won't you? The Rangers could have healed those wounds without leaving a mark. But they chose to let you suffer."
Eric raised a hand to his face, almost without realizing it. "What are you talking about?"
"Medical technology in our time is much more advanced than yours. They have equipment that could make those injuries only a memory, in minutes. So do we." Eric only stared, his mind blanking with surprise. Conwing's smile deepened. "So. They didn't tell you. Of course, they wouldn't want to trust a mere native of this time. Yes, we're all from your future. Two hundred years, to be exact."
"The future…" Eric stared at him, and then at Nadira. It made sense. Amazing no one had figured it out. The weapons, the suits. The mutants. People had said they were from outer space, a few had said they were from the future. Eric had never taken any of it seriously.
"They don't belong here, any more than we do," Conwing was saying, leaning forward a little, his voice intense. "In my time, mutants are persecuted, imprisoned. Ransik freed a few of us, and we escaped through time, hoping to find a safe place here, to live out our lives in peace. But the Rangers pursued us. They won't rest until they've killed or captured all of us. They're not the great heroes they pretend to be."
"But -- you've attacked people. She-" he nodded at Nadira, "stole things. That's why the Guardians were formed, to protect the city."
"I just wanted a few pretty things. And I couldn't just walk in and buy them, the humans always start running and yelling when they see me," Nadira said. "I'm sorry, I know it was wrong."
"We had to survive. Had to take what we need, had to defend ourselves," Conwing said softly. "Wouldn't any human do the same?"
"You killed Commander Porter."
"I regret that. It wasn't intentional." The mutant's eyes were cool. Nadira's head bent, hiding an expression that had seemed uncomfortable.
Suddenly Conwing moved, rising from the chair and stepping forward with inhuman speed, bending over the couch before Eric could react. His hand darted out and pulled at the bandage, his other hand wrapping around Eric's neck as he tried to jerk away. In another second the bandage had been peeled off, and the mutant's eyes were staring. Eric tried to twist free again, angry, helpless, and feeling somehow shamed.
"As I thought. With only the medical treatment of this time, you'll be disfigured. But we could change that. You could look normal again. If you help us." He let go and stepped back.
Nadira came closer as Eric picked up the bandage and replaced it as best he could. "Please get us that serum, Mr. Myers. My daddy would be grateful. And so would I. Very grateful." She leaned over him, low enough to give him an excellent view of her cleavage, smiling as his eyes dropped, then jerked back up to her face.
"Yes. We have resources," Conwing said, his voice soft and smooth. "You're a Silver Guardian; the Rangers are your rivals. Your enemies. I saw you on the television, talking about them. You don't like what they're doing. You don't trust them. We could get rid of them for you. Help your career. Money, power… you could have it all. You'll find we're very generous to our friends. And merciless to our enemies. All I need to know is -- which you're going to be." He gestured towards the door. "Don't decide now. I'll return you to your home. Think about it."
Twenty minutes later, Eric felt the car he was in slow and come to a stop. He blinked as the blindfold tied over his eyes was roughly pulled off. They were parked in front of his house, Conwing sitting in the driver's seat, watching him. Eric glanced at the mutant and reached for the door lock.
"Not so fast." The voice was soft, but the fingers that closed around the back of his neck were hard, gripping just tightly enough to reach the edge of pain. They held him there, unmoving, almost unbreathing, as Conwing leaned close to him. "I could break your neck with a twitch of my fingers, human," he murmured in Eric's ear. "And I can find you, even if you try to run. Remember that." He released his grip, chuckling as Eric fumbled with the door and lurched out.
And then he was alone, with only the sound of the car fading into the suburban night, a slight breeze brushing his hair and stirring the branches above him, and the pounding of his own heart. It all seemed so normal, for a moment the last hour seemed like only a strange dream. But he knew it wasn't.
He had a problem. Briefly he considered asking for help... but who? The Rangers, who hadn't had the decency to help him when he was injured? No, he had to face this alone. Make this decision. A decision that could change his life. Or end it.
Wes yawned and then frowned, squinting at his task. He had never been a morning person. But sleepiness wasn't his only problem today. He was distracted by his own thoughts, ones that were foreign to his normally happy and optimistic nature. Thoughts that seemed to come more frequently lately. Ever since Alex had arrived.
He tried to shake off the mood and get back to work. While repairing mechanical devices was usually Trip's job, he was busy with other things this morning, and Wes had volunteered to fix the VCR one of their clients had brought in. It was an easy job, just a matter of taking the cover off and untangling the tape that had gotten stuck inside, and then cleaning it. Such a simple thing, and yet satisfying, turning something broken and useless back into a functioning piece of equipment. Finished, Wes put the cover back on and leaned his elbows on the worktable.
He was in the back of the 'Nick of Time' shop, where he could see and hear if any customers came in. Bright sunlight slanted in through a window in the storefront. It was quiet, except for the soft sounds of traffic in the street outside. For a few moments he drifted in thought.
Light footsteps tapped on the stairs leading up to their clock tower home. He recognized them at once. The same person he had been thinking about. As he turned to look, Jen appeared at the doorway, smiling, but Wes could see the strain underneath. She always looked that way now. Tense, and sad. Ever since Alex showed up...
"Hi." She stood looking at him, seeming a little awkward.
"Hi, yourself. What's up?"
"Nothing." But her expression said otherwise. Then she sighed. "Wes, can I talk to you?"
"Sure." He leaned over to pull another chair closer to the table, and watched her sit down.
Jen smiled again briefly. "I was just talking to Alex," she said.
"So that's why you look upset," Wes couldn't help commenting.
"I'm not upset. It's just that he pointed something out." She took a deep breath. "We have a problem. That anti-Venomark serum wasn't meant to be invented for another hundred years. Our giving it to Bio-Lab may have unpredictable effects later on."
"But Alex agreed that we had no choice. We couldn't let all those people die."
"I know. But now, we need to try to repair the damage. Or prevent it." She raised her eyes to his face. "We need for Bio-Lab to give it up. Not do any research on it. Destroy the supply they have. Especially not let Ransik get hold of it, since he seems to need it."
Wes looked away from her, imagining what his father's reaction would be. "How come Alex didn't talk to me himself?" he asked. "I thought he was our fearless leader now."
"He thought it would be better for me to do it. And I guess he was right, from the way you talk about him. You don't like him."
"I -- I don't like the way he just blew in here and took over. You were doing a great job. He didn't have any right to take command that way."
"He had every right. He's my superior officer."
"But we know you! We're used to working with you. He's just -- messing everything up. And look what's happened since he got here. That Silver Guardians' commander got killed. Eric got hurt. It's not like he's done such a great job."
"None of those things were his fault."
"I don't know why you're defending him," Wes grumbled. "You should be angry at him more than the rest of us. Even the way he treats you..."
"That's between Alex and me." But she didn't look at him, her eyes down, looking at her hands, twisting together in her lap.
"Jen -- Jen, you don't have to put up with the shit he gives you... I could..."
"Wes, no." She met his gaze now, and a moment of understanding passed between them, as Wes knew she had seen into his heart, his feelings for her. As he read some strong emotion in her face, whether love, or only affection and sympathy, he couldn't quite tell, and couldn't quite bring himself to ask. Not that he didn't want to, he wanted that more than anything, to know if he had a chance. But he had no right. Not to come between a woman and the man she was still engaged to.
He stood up. "I'll talk to my Dad," he said dully. "See what I can do."
"Good." Her voice stopped him as he took a step towards the door. "Wes, please don't be too hard on Alex. He's just trying to do the right thing. Like all of us. I guess -- right now he doesn't know how. And he..." She hesitated as he turned back. "It's tough for him, dealing with you. His double. Using his morpher."
And in love with his girl... Wes smiled ruefully. "I know. It's weird for me, too. I'll try harder." For you, not for him, he added silently.
He was still in a bad mood when he walked into Bio-Lab and headed for his father's office, hardly looking where he was going. Preoccupied with his thoughts of Jen and a growing anxiety over the confrontation he was sure this conversation would turn into, he turned a corner and saw a navy-blue uniform just in time to avoid running into its wearer.
"Hey, watch where you're going!" a rough voice snapped at him.
"Sorry," Wes said automatically and started to move on. But recognition stopped him at the sight of the other man's bandaged face. He put out a hand to stop him as he turned away.
Eric shook it off, and gave him a cold glare. "What are you doing here?" he asked.
"Seeing my father."
Another cold look. "Running to Daddy again, huh? What's the matter? Having problems with your twin?"
"My... what are you talking about?"
"Come off it, I know that wasn't you in the park. Who the hell was he?"
Wes stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Look, I'd rather you didn't say anything about him." He frowned as Eric only gave him a mocking half smile. "But I guess you don't care."
"Why the hell should I?"
"Yeah, you wouldn't. But don't expect any of us to tell you anything. You obviously can't be trusted."
"That's right, rich boy," Eric said as Wes started past him again. "As if you've given me any reason to trust you. Not when your friends couldn't be bothered to help me."
There was something subtle under the hostility in Eric's voice, something bleak and almost forlorn that made Wes turn back again. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened to you," he said, avoiding the sharp dark eyes on him, adding, "If I'd been there -- well, I would have tried to help."
"Yeah, right. When you think I'm scum."
"I don't... That's not true." He raised his eyes to meet Eric's. "We were friends once, weren't we? I wish we could get along now."
Maybe the underlying unhappiness in his voice got through somehow. Or maybe not. Eric only stared at him for a few seconds, his lips tightening before he turned and walked quickly away. Wes watched him go, glumly deciding his day was rapidly progressing from bad to worse, before starting on his way again.
In moments he was facing the familiar office door. Seeing the receptionist nod, knocking, turning the knob. Walking inside. It had been a week since he had been here. Now Wes regretted that he hadn't come back or visited home, realized that he hadn't made any effort to see his father again after getting his help with making the serum. The first time they were seeing each other again, and again he wanted something.
But if his father was displeased, it didn't show. He was on his feet, taking a few steps, his hand held out. "Wes! Great to see you. How are you?" he asked, smiling warmly.
"I'm fine, Dad. How are you?"
"Great." He took a closer look. "But I think you didn't come just to say hello. What's wrong, son?"
Wes took a breath. "Dad, it's the serum."
Collins' face brightened in a smile again. "That serum is fascinating, Wes. Our scientists have started working on it, and already Dr. Zaskin says they see a lot of possibilities..." he trailed off, staring at Wes's expression.
"Dad, that's the problem. You can't research that serum. You have to get rid of it. Destroy what's left, and destroy whatever records you have on it."
"What? Oh, but Wes..." Collins gave him a look full of discomfort, disbelief, denial. "That serum could mean a lot to Bio-Lab. And now you're asking me to give it up?"
"I'm sorry. But yes, I am."
"I'm sorry, son, but..."
"You have to, Dad. The serum doesn't belong to you. You can't use it."
"Where did it come from? Who does it belong to?"
"I can't tell you that."
"Look..." Collins gave him another uneasy stare before sitting behind his desk, putting the barriers of wood and distance between them. "If you won't tell me anything, how do you expect me to take this seriously?" He paused, as Wes found himself without an answer. "I'm sorry, but unless there's some legal reason, unless someone has a patent on it and can prove ownership, we're going to keep working on that serum."
"Dad, please."
"I'm sorry," his father repeated softly. "You're my son. But business is business."
"Business. That's what it always comes down to for you, isn't it?" Wes shot him an angry glare, not stopping to care at the fleeting expression of pain he saw, before starting for the door.
It was just starting to get dark when he got home. Eric hesitated for a moment as he reached his front door, almost expecting someone to be waiting to attack him again. But he was surrounded only by the quiet of a normal night. With an effort, he got a grip on his jumping nerves and turned the key in the lock.
By the time he realized something was wrong, it was already too late. After locking the door, he flipped on the light. Turned away from the door. And froze in shock and a momentary flash of fear that almost made him break and run, until the instinct for survival that had kept him alive in dangerous situations before steadied him, suddenly leaving him as calm, cool, and rational as if the tall, white form of Conwing was not sitting casually on his living room sofa.
"What the hell are you doing breaking into my house?" he demanded.
Conwing smiled in that chilly way of his. "Very good. You have more courage than I expected from a human," he said. "And you'll be pleased to know I broke nothing, only picked your lock."
"I'll have to get a new locksmith."
The mutant's black eyes were suddenly hard and cold. "You've had a day to think about our proposition. I need an answer."
Eric met his gaze, feeling his stomach lurch. This was it. He hadn't been expecting it quite so soon, but it made no difference. He knew he would have made the same decision, no matter when. The only possible decision, the only one that would let him face himself in the mirror... even if it meant teaming up with people he disliked and distrusted. Pulling his courage together, he said, "All right. I'll do what you want. But you have to fix my face when this is over. And I want money."
"Of course." Conwing's face was blank now.
"Okay. What exactly do you want me to do?"
TBC...