Disclaimer: I don't own anything here you recognize from TV. Saban owns all things Power Rangers related.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who's read, reviewed, followed or favorited this story. You guys rock. This chapter has this story's first major action scene, which I REALLY love writing. If you guys enjoy reading this even half as much as I did writing it, this should be your favorite chapter so far. Enjoy!
In Transit
Angel Grove, CA
July 10, 2012
2:30 PM
"Speaking of things that aren't OK, where the hell is Jason?"
The insistent ringing of Billy's cell phone snapped him out of the state of near autohypnosis one tends to experience when driving for long stretches of time over unchanging terrain. The road between ERECA headquarters and Angel Grove was almost completely barren, surrounded on both sides by desert. The only part of the drive that was ever the least bit memorable was the three or four mile stretch where Billy could make out the mountains where the old Command Center had stood, hidden among the peaks like a secret temple in an Indiana Jones movie.
Billy rubbed his eyes with the heel of one hand and dug the phone out of his pants pocket. Without turning his gaze from the road, he felt around for the answer button and pushed it before raising the phone to his ear. "Cranston."
"What is it with our group nowadays and going by last names?" Kimberly's voice had a definite edge to it; the frustrated grunt that punctuated her sentence seemed to support it.
"What did Jason and Tommy do this time?" Billy felt an amused smile creep onto his face despite himself.
Suddenly Kim was perky and cheerful again – far too much so. "Oh, nothing Kat and I won't eventually pay back tenfold." Billy winced; he could practically hear the devious smirk in her voice. "Anyway, Billy, I was hoping we could pick your brain for a minute. We've come across something that seems a little, uh…out there…and we need someone we can trust to tell us what the hell we're dealing with here."
"This is a fortuitous coincidence," Billy replied happily. "I happen to be on my way back to Angel Grove as we speak with a device that should enable us to pinpoint the source of Jason's ailment. I should be there in approximately twenty minutes."
Kim laughed. "Awesome! OK, meet us at Tommy's house in about half an hour. Sound good?"
"Prodigious," Billy answered. "See you guys then."
"Billy, wait!" Kim exclaimed just as he was about to hang up. "Look, I want to apologize for trying to pry into your life before. I understand that what you do is important and I figure after so long keeping my own life a secret I shouldn't question what you can or can't tell me about yours but…" Kim sighed loudly. Billy felt an urge to speak up but she barreled on before he could find words. "Billy, you know you can trust us, right? I mean, that's not what this is about, is it?"
"Of course not, Kim," Billy replied quickly. He hesitated for a moment, finding himself suddenly torn by indecision. Finally he said, "I trust you guys with my life. I just really enjoy the work I've been doing and these people made me sign a confidentiality agreement that I don't want to risk violating. I know you would never betray my trust but I can't risk losing this job. You understand, right?"
"You know I do, Billy. We're just a little worried that none of us know where you are or what you're doing half the time."
"How about this," Billy said, switching the phone to his other hand. "If the people I work for ever want me to keep something secret that I don't feel comfortable with, whoever I get a hold of first between you and Jason will be the first to know."
Kim chuckled softly. "Thanks, Billy. See you in twenty." Billy heard a soft click as Kim ended the call. Smiling to himself, he tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, where it bounced against the small piece of complicated machinery that sat there. The scanner he'd brought back from Aquitar didn't function exactly like that ones from the old Command Center, but it was fast, accurate and got the job done.
Billy turned back to the road before him. Twenty more minutes before his heartbeat could slow down again; twenty more minutes before his palms could stop sweating.
Twenty more minutes and I'll be closer to a decent night's sleep than I've been in the last week.
Oliver Residence
Angel Grove, CA
July 10, 2012
3:00 PM
"God, I feel like an idiot." Jason stood in the middle of Tommy's living room, arms spread wide, trying to be as still as he could while Billy took some kind of reading from him with a small piece of machinery that vaguely resembled a satellite dish. Billy had told him to hold his palms perpendicular to the floor, look straight ahead, and keep his feet together. It had only taken about thirty seconds for things to start feeling awkward.
"I dunno, Jase, I mean, you always did kinda have a God complex," Tommy called out from across the room, where he, Kat and Kim watched the whole thing from their seats at the island in the middle of the small kitchen. "I'd have thought you'd feel right at home in a Christ pose." Kat and Kim giggled; Jason groaned and felt his cheeks start to burn.
"You guys can all just go straight to hell," Jason grumbled. Tommy grinned even wider and opened his mouth to mock some more when Billy's device beeped loudly.
"Please tell me that's Scotty coming to beam me off this planet," Jason said, letting his arms fall to his sides. Billy raised an eyebrow at him. "What? Clearly the indigenous life is hostile." Jason gestured over his shoulder with his head.
"Oooohh, indigenous. Somebody's using their SAT words," Tommy said, grinning.
"Bite me."
As Kat shook her head and chuckled, Billy stopped fiddling with the scanner and looked up at them. "Guys."
Jason turned. Billy's face had gone white.
"What?" Jason asked, frowning. "Billy, what's wrong?" In what had become a far too familiar occurrence lately, Jason felt a knot of anxiety beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. Kim moved around the counter and came up beside him, sliding her hand into his.
Billy sighed. "I thought we were done dealing with this kind of shit when we stopped being Rangers."
Jason cracked a cynical half smile. "Billy, I swear to god if the next sentence out of your mouth is any combination of the words 'Tommy,' 'evil spell,' or 'kidnapped,' I will personally kick your ass all the way back to Aquitar." Tommy rolled his eyes and flipped Jason off from behind.
Billy didn't even smile. "I wish it was that easy." He swallowed and licked his lips, a bead of sweat running down his forehead.
Now Tommy and Kat came up beside Jason and stared at Billy, concerned. "Billy, what's going on? What's wrong?" Kat's voice was barely audible.
Billy glanced down at the scanner again, then back at his four friends. After a moment, his gaze settled on Jason. "Tommy's not being turned evil this time, Jason," he said. "You are."
Before any of them had time to respond to that, something came crashing through one of the windows by the front door. The five former Rangers watched as a small black object the size of a baseball bounced to a stop at their feet, leaving a wispy trail of white fog behind it.
"What the hell?" Kat peered out through the newly broken window, searching the street for where the thing had come from. Jason and Tommy exchanged looks, their eyes widening as the realization hit.
"Oh fuck me," Jason muttered.
"GAS!" Tommy grabbed the small canister and heaved it back through the window just in time for the front door to be knocked off its hinges. Four men wearing dark leather jackets and built like linebackers came charging into Tommy's living room, bursting through the doorway like blood from an artery. They moved with military precision, hurtling toward the startled ex-Rangers, their intent clearly written in the deadly scowls on their faces.
The man at the head of the line lowered his shoulder and slammed into Kat, carrying her for nearly four feet before throwing her down hard onto a coffee table. Kat cried out in pain as the edge of the table dug into her back; the man on top of her clamped a hand over her mouth and forced her head back against the table's surface before pulling something out of his belt. Kat saw the object gleam in the light and realized with horror that it was a knife – a huge one, the six inch blade curved and serrated. Acting purely on leftover Ranger instinct, she swung one leg into the man's groin. When he staggered forward, she bent both legs at the knee and kicked the man's chest with both feet; the momentum threw him off of her and sent her flipping backwards over the table. As she went over, Kat planted her hands on the table, curling her fingers around the edges. The second her feet were planted on solid ground again, the lithe Australian hefted the table in front of her like a shield.
It was a good thing she did, too – her attacker had already recovered and thrust the knife forward, right into where her chest would've been. Instead, he buried the blade into the bottom of the table. Kat wasted no time. She wrenched the table one way, then the other, yanking the knife free of the man's grip and tossing both off to the side. The move threw the attacker off balance, leaving him momentarily stuck on his heels as he crossed one leg over the other to stay standing. Kat dropped to the floor and spun into a sweep kick, knocking the man's legs out from under him. He toppled over, landing hard on the carpet.
Kat hopped to her feet and prepared to finish the job, but the man was on his feet with inhuman speed. He rushed her again, swinging fists the size of cinder blocks. Kat dodged one punch, then jumped back to avoid another, waiting for her chance. She got it when he aimed a punch straight for her face. Throwing one leg out behind her, Kat ducked into a crouch, her dancer's body coiling like a spring. As the man's arm passed over her head, she shot back up, driving her fist into his extended arm. The man grunted in pain, his arm wind-milling away from her. Kat stepped forward and whirled, slamming her elbow into her attacker's jaw. The man's head whipped to the side, a fine mist of blood spraying from his mouth. Letting her momentum carry her forward, Kat pivoted on the toes of her left foot and swung the right into the man's face, sending him sprawling to the floor.
As Kat tried to catch her breath, she felt a jolt of pain go through her foot, and another through her elbow. She winced and staggered backward, gripping her arm to her chest. Panting, she looked up to see her attacker already climbing to his feet, his back turned to her.
What the hell? Tommy taught me that move himself, this guy should be unconscious right now.
Kat tensed, reluctantly readying herself to fend him off again. The man turned slowly around to face her – and raised a weapon unlike anything she'd ever seen before. It was made of a shiny silver material that glinted in the light just as the knife blade had; she stared into a perfectly round barrel the size of a golf ball. As her attacker advanced toward her, his lips curling into a menacing grin, Kat took an involuntary step back and groaned under her breath.
"Oh, bloody hell."
When the first of the group of mysterious attackers rushed Kat, Tommy spun and dove for her, screaming his fiancé's name. The second man through the door grabbed him around the shoulders before he'd taken two steps and twisted violently to one side, throwing Tommy across the room and up the single stair that divided the living room from the kitchen. His ankle caught the lip of the tile floor, and Tommy was sent careening into the island that took up the center of the small kitchen, spots blossoming before his eyes as his head slammed against the wood. Tommy shook his head frantically, managing to regain his wits just in time to see his attacker aim a vicious kick at his face; the former White Ranger dove aside just as the kick landed, his attacker's boot splintering the polished wood.
Tommy kipped up to his feet, grimacing at the damage. "Oh, you are so gonna pay for that," he breathed as he moved toward his opponent, fists raised. The man turned and readied himself, beckoning Tommy forward.
Tommy's roaring adrenalin got the best of him. He bit, charging forward only to have the man slide out of his way, sticking out a foot as he went. Thrown off balance, staggering forward, Tommy was in no position to defend himself as the man put one hand on his shoulder and the other on the back of his head; he felt himself shoved violently forward and just barely managed to lift his chin at the last second so he took the brunt of the impact into the cabinets with his chest. The wind was driven from Tommy's lungs, the force of the collision causing his vision to tunnel for a moment. As he stood slumped against the counter, he saw his attacker turn and approach what it seemed had been his target all along – the box containing all of Jason and Kim's evidence they'd brought home to review, including the chip they'd planned to ask Billy about. The guy dug through the box for a moment before pulling his hand out and grinning; Tommy exhaled sharply at the sight of the chip glinting in the light. The guy turned and smiled deviously at him before hopping over the step and charging back out the door the way he came.
Jason and Kim stood back-to-back, circling slowly around each other as two of their foes attacked them in sporadic harmony, sending in an endless barrage of blows that seemed uncoordinated but were timed too perfectly not to have been planned. Jason had shoved Billy aside the moment the group had charged through the door; he'd lost track of him after that.
"Is it just me," Jason grunted as he batted a punch aside and jabbed his opponent in the stomach, "or is this shit really starting to get repetitive?"
"Less talkey, more punchey!" Kim exclaimed, finding an opening and snapping a front kick into her attacker's chest, staggering him back a few feet. Jason was about to respond when he saw a third man run past behind the one he now squared off with, right out the open doorway.
"He took the chip! He's getting away!" Tommy called from the kitchen. Jason saw his friend pointing a frantic finger at the empty doorway; his opponent was distracted by Tommy's yell, and Jason moved in, grabbing twin fistfuls of the man's jacket and heaving him toward the kitchen, where he slid across the floor and rolled to his feet near Tommy's position.
"Trade ya!" Jason shouted, glancing at Kim, who had gained Billy's help in holding off the other man. She dared a look in his direction.
"What are you doing?"
Jason clenched his fists. His eyes flashed a blazing shade of crimson. "I'm gonna show that asshole who he's fucking with." His voice was deep and deadly, garbled by a rasping growl.
Kim barely had time to avoid an incoming fist as she turned back to her battle, unable to stop Jason from darting out the door, murder glowing in his eyes.
Tommy moved around the small island in the kitchen as the man Jason had so graciously thrown his way started to advance toward him. The space was a bit cramped – the kitchen was lined on three walls with cabinets, counter space, and appliances; the island in the middle was mostly flat, including a cooking surface. Above, a rack of pots and pans dangled from the ceiling, leaving about two feet of clearance between the island and the pots. The man was moving closer to him now; Tommy licked his lips and tried to think.
Suddenly, the guy changed directions and sprinted around the counter the other way, closing the distance between him and Tommy in seconds. Tommy froze and waited; at the last second, just as his attacker approached, he stepped back and swung the freezer door open, slamming it into the man's face and dropping him backwards onto the hard tile. The man's head made a hollow thock as it connected with the floor. Tommy leaned over him and smiled. "Learned that one from Scream," he said, hopping over the man and moving to the far side of the island. From this vantage point he could see the entire battle unfolding before him. Kat took on one of the remaining men on the far side of the living room; he watched Kim whip the other over the couch into Billy's waiting fist.
As Tommy watched, the man he'd just downed leapt to his feet and moved toward the other end of the island, grabbing Jason and Kim's evidence box. Tommy cursed under his breath; if that guy ran off too, these people – whoever they were – would have everything on this case. There was no way he would allow a security breach like that on his watch.
Tommy didn't even think. He jumped straight up, grabbed the edge of the hanging pot rack, and swung his feet up and forward, propelling himself onto the island so he slid along its surface and flew feet-first into his opponent's chest. The box went flying, pages fluttering to the floor as Tommy landed in front of his enemy, who had been catapulted back down the ledge into the living room.
"Learned that one from Jackie Chan," Tommy said, an excited grin breaking out on his face. That grin quickly faded as his target jumped up again, pulling a gun from his belt.
"Shit." Tommy's face drained of color. He yanked his own weapon from its holster and held his enemy at a standoff; hesitant to use his firearm, however, Tommy felt himself being gradually pushed back into the kitchen, his gun trained on his opponent but his finger away from the trigger. He felt his back press up against the cabinets, an anxious sweat beginning to break out on the back of his neck.
"Put it down," the man growled at him. His voice was venomous, deadly serious and at the same time emotionless, as though the words were not his own. Tommy frowned for a moment before he held his gun out to one side and gently tossed it down in front of him.
His opponent relaxed just the slightest amount, but it was enough. As the gun fell, Tommy bent his right leg inward and swung it up, bouncing the weapon off the side of his foot. The other man flinched and fired two bullets into the space where Tommy's head should've been, but Tommy was already gone. Dropping into a crouch, he snatched his weapon out of thin air, pivoted on his left foot, and spun in a full circle, working his finger into the trigger guard; as he came out of the spin, he steadied his weapon with both hands and fired three rounds dead center into the other man's chest. As his enemy crumpled to the floor, blood already starting to pool beneath him, Tommy rose shakily to his feet and holstered his gun.
"That one…" Tommy frowned; his voice carried an edge of stunned amazement. "Actually, not gonna lie, I have no fucking idea where that one came from."
At the sound of the gunshots, the hit man – it seemed like the most accurate thing to call them, given the circumstances – who was advancing on Kat stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, Kat saw the assassin Kim and Billy were fighting do the same. She didn't hesitate. Darting forward, Kat pirouetted and swung her foot into the hand in which her attacker held his weapon, intending to knock it out of his grip and bring this fight back to familiar ground.
Instead, things took a sharp turn for the bizarre. Kat's kick startled the intruder, as she'd hoped, but his grip didn't loosen. As his hand was propelled away from Kat, he jerked reflexively, squeezing the weapon and discharging it in the general direction of Billy and Kim. The entire house was filled with intensely bright light, so white it was nearly blue. Kat threw a hand up over her face to keep from being blinded, but the light was gone as quickly as it had appeared. As she blinked rapidly, willing her vision to clear, Kat realized that her enemy now stood frozen before her, gaping openmouthed in her friends' direction. Everything had gone silent; the commotion of mere seconds before ceasing as abruptly as if someone had hit the mute button.
Expecting the worst, Kat hesitantly flicked her gaze over to the other side of the living room in time to see the assassin who just moments ago had been engaging Billy and Kim crumple to a heap on the floor; she gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth at the sight of the perfectly round hole that had been driven through the man's head, still smoking from the heat of whatever projectile he'd been struck with. Kat realized she could see clear through his skull, from just below his right ear to where she thought his left eye had once been. Inside the wound, steaming brain matter was plainly visible, crinkled folds of grey and pink flesh that looked – and, she noted with disgust, smelled – like partially cooked hamburger. Kat felt bile rising in her throat, her stomach churning at the thought; she distantly noted Kim, Billy and Tommy converging on the last remaining intruder, ordering him to put the weapon down. There was a blur of motion, and Kat barely made out the man twisting the strange device up under his own chin.
This time, when the brilliant flash receded, she couldn't bring herself to look.
"Holy shit," Kim whispered, staring down at the man before her. The entire front half of his head appeared to have been scooped out, like after someone drags a spoon through the top of a new carton of ice cream. His chin was basically gone, though Kim discovered with a shudder that she could still see his back teeth and the charred remains of his tongue. Where the man's nose had been there was only a hole, the organ completely vaporized by whatever it was that had dug that terrible, sizzling trench through his face.
"Seconded," Tommy muttered, coming up behind her. "Did you see anything?"
"You mean after he pushed the magic ultra-facelift button and we took a trip through the world's biggest flashbulb? No. How about you?"
Tommy chuckled nervously at that and turned towards Kat, who stood with her back to them a few feet away. "Kat? You OK?"
"Not especially, no," Kat replied, her voice choked and shaky. Tommy brushed past Billy and Kim, clapping Billy on the shoulder as he hurried to his fiancé's side and wrapped an arm around her. As the two of them talked in hushed tones and Kat finally buried her face in Tommy's shoulder, Billy shot several concerned glances around the room. Finally, his gaze landed back on Kim.
"Speaking of things that aren't OK, where the hell is Jason?"
By the time Jason cleared the doorway, his target had already crossed the front yard and was sprinting across the street, his right hand clenched tightly into a fist around the cargo he was carrying. Jason hurdled over a few large bushes that stood near the front door and charged after him, his vision slowly beginning to color as though it was being filtered through red cellophane. He ran with long, leaping strides, his boots pounding into the ground as he lowered a shoulder and put every ounce of power he had into his forward momentum.
Jason's quarry led him across the street and between two other houses. The man he was chasing was built like a football player, broad shoulders and huge arms that funneled into a tight stomach and lean legs. He was bald, perspiration on his head glistening in the sunlight; like his comrades, he wore a black leather jacket and dark cargo pants. A belt around his waist appeared to hold several different objects, much like what one would see on a uniformed police officer. As Baldy reached a fence, he swung one leg up and cast a glance back at Jason, who noted the way his devilish grin disappeared when he saw the former Red Ranger streaking toward him, his eyes fully ablaze now. Baldy wasted no more time; he awkwardly leveraged himself the rest of the way over the fence and stumbled on through the empty backyard. Jason barely even broke stride – as he approached the fence, he planted his feet and jumped, planting both hands on the fence and vaulting over, hitting the ground running.
He was closing ground fast, and he knew it. His adrenalin was flowing freely, carrying with it a gleeful bloodlust that drove him forward like a predator after prey. Jason felt his rationality slowly drifting away; it was only through extraordinary concentration that he was able to maintain his pace and still keep the slightest grip on his sanity. Breathing harder from the combined physical and mental exertion, Jason took a few milliseconds longer to clear the next fence he came to, but Baldy was beginning to panic a little now; Jason realized with a very distant jolt of dread that he could smell the fear coming off of him, a suffocating reek that struck him as a mix between urine and rotten meat.
As the two men burst out of the yards and onto the next street over, Jason saw through his rapidly darkening vision that Baldy was veering toward a green SUV that sat parked on the opposite curb. His quarry skidded to a stop and closed his fingers around the handle on the driver's side door.
That was when Jason lost it. A surge of adrenalin, anger, exhilaration, and panic shot through him all at once as though deliberately injected into his bloodstream, shattering whatever grip he may have had over his own desires; his mind emptied of everything except the victim before him and the angry red that colored his vision.
Eyes afire, Jason leapt forward, body-checking Baldy into the side of the car like a hockey player. The man let loose a small grunt of pain and surprise; Jason cupped a hand around the back of his head and thrust it forward into the window once, again, again, until cracks began to spiderweb across the glass and his prey moaned weakly, blood seeping from a laceration in his forehead. Jason jerked the man back by the collar of his jacket and heaved him onto the ground, pressing a foot down on his throat. Baldy began to choke, gasping desperately for air and clawing feebly at Jason's pant leg. Suddenly, Jason saw movement from his peripheral vision. He glanced down to see that the man's hand had flopped open, revealing the chip that lay inside.
Something about seeing that chip brought things rushing back, and Jason was just able to grab a tiny finger hold of control. He lifted his foot off of Baldy's throat, but as the man tried to sit up, Jason whipped his foot forward, kicking him savagely in the face. The man slumped to the street, motionless.
Gingerly, as though trying to move as little as possible, Jason knelt, plucked the chip out of the unconscious assassin's hand and dropped it into his pocket. Then he lifted the man into a fireman's carry, threw the back door of the car open and laid him on the backseat as gently as his still rage-heightened state would allow. Finally, as the glow in his eyes began to dim, Jason climbed into the driver's seat, located the keys in the visor, and drove the car back to Tommy's house. As he rolled to a stop in front of his friend's front yard, he stole a look back at the half-dead man who lay on the seat, breathing erratically and bleeding from several different places.
Jason sighed, extricating himself from the vehicle and pausing for a moment before retrieving his prisoner. Suddenly he felt a wave of extreme pain crash into him, so intense he had to lean against the car and grip the door handle to keep his balance. His teeth ground together, his eyes squeezed shut, every muscle in his body went as taut as a loaded slingshot. He couldn't even open his mouth to scream – the pain paralyzed him completely. After a long, horrifying moment in which he felt sure his heart would give out from the intensity of the agony, it finally began to subside. Jason slumped against the SUV, gasping for air. It took him several minutes to compose himself enough to lift the unconscious man from the backseat and carry him up the lawn to the front door.
The moment Jason crossed the threshold he felt his legs begin to give out. He managed a couple more staggering steps forward before he moaned, "Guys. I think…" and collapsed to the floor, Baldy's limp form rolling unceremoniously onto the floor. As his friends crowded around him, Tommy yelling his name, Kim gripping his hand in her own, Jason had time to think, Staggering into a room after a battle and passing out. Didn't I do this once already?
The last thing he felt before darkness claimed him was the back of his head falling back onto the carpet.