The Gathering (II) – Part 4
San Angeles, California
The knocks at the grand door echoed around the Hartford Estate, bouncing along the pristine floors and high-rise ceilings, traveling to even the furthest room in every corner of the building.
Mack Hartford, adorning a red-and-brown plaid shirt and old jeans with a hole in the knee-they were comfortable-, briskly walked along one of the many hallways, on the approach to the door. Through the frosted glass he could make out the blurry outline of the person waiting on the otherwise. Someone would have the decency to ping him an email to give him a heads up.
Was that too much to ask nowadays?
Pushing that thought to the back of his head, Mack called, "I'm coming!" at a second rap at the door, quickly closing the rest of the distance and before he knew it, his hand was on the handle and pulling the door open.
Before it was even fully open, Mack began talking.
"Gonna be honest Wes, wasn't really expecting a visit from y-"
Mack was stopped dead in his tracks mid-sentence, feeling whatever else he had formed for the rest get thrown aside.
While it was true, Wes-the expected guest-was standing outside the front door, standing easy, positioned front and centre.
What was unexpected was the three others standing behind him. Though they certainly weren't unfamiliar faces.
Mack's eyes darted between them.
Carter-he offered a sharp nod of greeting.
Joel-an up nod.
Eric-hard to tell behind his blacked-out sunglasses, but his nod seemed friendly enough. For Eric, anyway.
Before long, Mack's eyes returned to Wes. Realizing he was still holding the door part way close, he quickly opened it properly and leaned on the doorframe.
"There's…more of you than I anticipated."
Wes gave a small laugh with a side smirk, glancing over his shoulder to the others. His hands slid up his sides to rest in his pockets as he looked back to Mack.
"Yeah, it's one of those weeks," Wes responded, quickly following up, "Is that going to be an issue?" after spotting Mack's eyes give the rest of them another once over.
"Oh no, no problem," Mack said, clearing his throat as he stepped back, arm stretched out to welcome them in.
"Just gonna need to get a find a few more drinks."
"So," Mack started, bottles of water in hand, "what sort of business were you after? Cause I'll be honest, I've seen less vague e-mails."
The five Rangers had retreated into the secret base hidden beneath the Hartford Estate, setting themselves in in the centre of the room, around the grand globe. Leaning against console stands, some preferring to free stand in the middle of the room.
Eric and Wes both took one of the offered drinks, Eric immediately taking a long draw of the bottle after giving a nod of thanks.
At least he had taken his glasses off now, Mack noted.
"We were wondering if you were able to get us a meeting with an associate of your father."
Mack turned back around as Wes spoke, while offering a drink to Joel.
"That's not much better at clearing things up here, Wes," Mack answered, turning back around to fully face Wes as he took up position, leaning against one of the support scaffoldings. "Dad's met a lot of people over the years, you're gonna have to be a bit more-"
"Warren Mallory."
For the second time that day, whatever was left of Mack's sentence died in his throat as he turned to Eric. The half-smile that Mack had adopted faded entirely.
Eric set his drink down on the nearest point, continuing, "We're trying to set up a meeting with him to initiate a rescue."
Mack blinked, slowly, processing all that was to unpack at those surprisingly few words.
"So…this is what you meant by 'business deal'?" Mack questioned, glancing between the Rangers as if to see if he was the only one on the wrong page. Judging by the unfazed looks shared among the veterans, Mack realized he was the only one looking at the wrong book.
"Who…Who are you trying to rescue?"
"Angela…!" Joel stated, stepping forward before quickly correcting, "Dr Angela Rawlings. She's in danger; my wife's in danger. If you can help us, please."
Mack turned to Joel as he said his part, the gears slowly starting to turn in his head. It was almost funny, in a way; a couple of years ago, that wouldn't have been that far from the truth.
Now the gears were just metaphorical.
"Dr Rawlings…she was Lightspeed, wasn't she?" Mack asked, looking between Joel and Carter, his finger following his line of sight. "With you two, right?"
"Yeah!" Joel said, "back then she was Dr Fairweather."
Fairweather.
Mack's entire demeanour seemed to shift at the mention of the name; his expression, previously one of growing confusion, smoothed out. Almost if struck by an epiphany.
He swept around to look over the four Rangers, looking between all of them. Again.
"Well…suppose this is coming full circle."
Joel gave a small frown as he glanced towards Carter, the other looking back at him, as Mack continued.
"I'll see if Dad kept his number around somewhere; should be able to set up something where you guys can meet with Mallory."
"We need to meet him at a specific location," Wes interjected, concealing any surprise he may have had beneath a layer of professionalism.
"That's something you've got to negotiate with him, but if you're with me, I'm sure he'll be more willing to where you want to do business," Mack responded, quickly approaching one of the computers off to the side of the base, tapping away at the keyboard.
"Hey, what did you mean by 'coming full circle'?" Joel asked.
"Just…sorry, it's gonna sound a bit weird, but…is it poetic? I wanna say poetic, but might not be the right word…Ironic?" Mack questioned himself.
"What are you talking about? What's ironic?"
"What's ironic is I'm helping rescue one of Dad's former employers' associates from a later employer," Mack answered, pausing his typing to look towards Joel and Carter.
Joel looked to Carter, who was looking right back at Mack. His eyes squinted, as of concentrating.
"Your dad…worked for Lightspeed?"
"Well, back in the day he did," Mack responded casually, resuming his tapping at keys. "Helped him get his foot in the door for future work and success, including me," he gestured to himself as he continued, "thanks to his early work for Lightspeed."
He purposely paused again, turning his entire body to face the former Lightspeed Rangers, propping his elbow up on the desk.
"His early work…under General McKnight."
Almost immediately, as if someone had turned on a light switch, both Carter and Joel's eyes and expressions widened. As if in a single instant, the pair were thrown back all those years ago, back in their prime.
Fighting the Demons in Mariner Bay.
Not that they were the only foes they were pitted against…
"Your dad…created the Cyborg Rangers?" Carter asked, tone borderline accusing as he narrowed his gaze on Mack.
"…He helped," Mack admitted, rubbing the back of his head, the other quickly raising to his defence as he added, "but obviously that went south-none of Dad's doing, he worked on some of the prototyping-then when they realized the human factor was what was important, he got laid off. Seems Mallory was keeping watch, since he swooped right in and gave Dad a job right out of the gate."
"So your Dad worked for Mallory…doing what?" Wes questioned.
"Same sort of thing really, robotics and cybernetics. Between that and working for Lightspeed probably what helped him get a foot in for creating the Overdrive Ranger suits."
"And you," Eric interjected.
"…And me," Mack agreed.
"And then him, and now me as well, have Hartford Robotics. Then the rest was history. Or…past, in your teams' case," Mack continued, pointedly gesturing to Wes and Eric. He then turned back to Carter and Joel, his expression softening. "So...let's see this as making amends. For the past."
"What's passed is in the past. We don't blame your father, regardless of who he worked for," Carter stated, without a moments' hesitation.
"Let's get back on topic, we're running outta time," Joel interrupted.
"Agreed. Mack," Wes stated, as Mack resumed typing away, mouse scrolling through the numerous folders. "Think we're going to need you on this one too. Might need Hartford Robotics to guarantee a meeting."
"You got it!"
"And bring your Morpher too."
Mack immediately perked up at that, before breaking into a small grin.
"You got it."
Washington, DC
"Elijah…"
"Elijah!"
"Elijah."
E blinked rapidly, straightening his formerly slacken posture as he was brought back to the present. The distant, soft voice quickly morphed back into the slow, droning male voice, and all of a sudden E remembered exactly where he was.
"Elijah Canales-otherwise known by the alias of Agent E-, head of the United States' Division 13, can you please confirm that you are this person?"
There were many things that he could deal with to some degree. Deadlines missed by a day or two, as long as it was something non-essential, he'd be more willing to let it slide with only a verbal warning. Not finding the print off of documents he knew he just placed down. Sure, bit annoying, but nothing a few clicks couldn't fix, and he'd looked for the originals later.
E was fine dealing with these little, day-to-day annoyances.
These formalities though…
Ugh.
"Yes, I can confirm that Elijah Canales is my God-given name."
He didn't even try to hide how his fingers drummed against the podium he was stood at, facing the countless faces staring right back at him. Some equally as bored, others slightly irritated looking.
Most more than a little pissed off at him.
"Mr Canales, you have been summoned before the United States Senate Committee on Armed Services to explain recent developments and concerns that have been raised in the previous months regarding Division 13, namely the excessive growth of fundings being redirected to a, hitherto, undisclosed project."
E had to fight to keep the scoff in, as well as keep his arms rigid and straight against the podium. The urge to prop himself up on one of his arms, elbow leaning on the desk, was growing by the minute.
"I'm…sorry, Mr Speaker, but I thought this was a meeting with the Committee of Armed Service, not Finance," E drawled out, an unsubtle edge of sarcasm to his words as he swept his eyes across the committee. All the dozens of them, gathered for this little ass-chewing.
"It'd be best if you cut the attitude, Mr Canales," one voice reprimanded.
"And while this is a discussion regarding finance and misplacements, you are brought before the Armed Service committee due to Division 13's involvement and subsequent clashes with the Wolves of Pax Valley," another said.
"The Wolves of Pax Valley?" E asked, glancing from member to member of the committee, eyebrows raised. "You're referring to the group that, not only was classified as a terrorist cell four months after their first appearance, were also pronounced dead coming up to…eleven months ago?"
"And it is precisely those eleven months since their deaths that we are here to talk about," the Speaker replied, adjusting his glasses as he re-examined his stack of notes.
"During the six month period, between Division 13 first be reassigned to deal with this Power Ranger threat and their demise, five-point-two billion dollars was transferred to various aspects of Division 13. During this time, ample progress was documented and development made, as was expected for a former Research and Development department."
"However," the Speaker continued, "in the eleven months documented since the Power Rangers' demise, it has been documented a further four billion, three hundred and twenty million dollars were transferred to Division 13 assets."
All eyes returned to E.
"From this, a total of nearly ten billion dollars, and we have yet to see much resulting from this bar a, comparatively, rudimentary Ranger suit of our own creation. And that is another point of contention; the Division 13's Ranger suit."
"I'd like to point out that most of the funding initially set aside from Division 13 was for R&D to create that suit," E swiftly interjected, adjusting his microphone, sending a sharp jab of feedback in the process. "Deciphering the code and housing for the power source was more of a process than anticipated."
"More of a process, despite the extensively documented history of various other Rangers over the past thirty yea-"
"This power, this power source for this suit, it's something I can comfortably say, only a handful of people have come close to experiencing," E interjected. "We've compared readings from this source to dozens of other documented readings from the countless other Rangers that have cropped up on Earth over the years. Even some earliest known readings, given by Zordon of Eltar to this world, seem to struggle keeping pace with the readings from both the Silver Crystal and those of the Pax Valley Wolves."
"As far as this committee is aware, the Powers utilized during the attacks by the Machine Empire have no such upper limit," one committee member commented.
"And that is true, but it terms of measurable powers, these Rangers-these former Wolf Rangers' powers are without equal," E argued.
"Which makes us wonder why they have not yet been reported as an extreme security risk," another countered.
"My team have been working tirelessly to develop a way of containment while ensuring safety for both the user and those working in and around the suit," E stressed, emphasising the measures taken. "I have personally operated the suit powered by the Silver Crystal since we were able to create the chassis. Early hiccups have been addressed and proved more than capable of going toe-to-toe with these menaces."
"Which leads us right back around to the previous question," the Speaker resumed talking, flicking back a few sheets of paper to where he had left off of. His eyes, peaking over the rim of his glasses, met E's.
"Where has all the funding been pooling into?"
Behind tightly sealed lips, E's teeth ground together, clenched so tightly that he'd sure most dentists would have a fit to see teeth being treated that way. Once more, he swept his gaze across the representatives lining the desks in front of him; countless suits, all looking ready to take a piece out of him.
To replenish the money, they must've seen as rightfully theirs.
Instead of letting any of this come through his expression, E forced a smirk to pull the corner of his lip up. His fingers unclasped the edge of the desk, only now realizing how hard he had been gripping the polished wood-where those indents there before him?-and tried to relax his shoulders.
"Mr Speaker and members of the Committee, I don't believe that the answer to this question is one that can't be explained with graphs or numbers; it doesn't…get the point across the same way."
E took a small step back from the podium, arms held out partly from his sides.
"Something like this requires a…demonstration."
This caused many of the committee members to mutter amongst themselves, the Speaker begin another warning, "Mr Canales-"
A sharp snap of E's fingers cut through the chatter.
All attention was drawn to him, front and centre, before a shimmer of light overshadowed the grand lighting above. Voices rose, chairs shot back as people quickly got to their feet-whether to flee or to get a better look at what was going on. Even the Speaker rose from his seat and took a step back, he among the many forced to raise their arms as the light became too strong to look at.
"Mr Canales! What is happening?!" he bellowed, the light growing stronger by the moment, threatening to consume all with the sheer brightness.
Then, as soon as it had appeared, it faded. Like a star going out.
It took several more seconds for the Committee to gather itself, various discussions already beginning to form, outrage and indignation rippling through out.
"Mr Can-!" the Speaker bellowed, but quickly found his voice collapsing back into his throat, resulting in a muffled, strangled sound as he caught the sight in front of him.
Little by little, others caught on, gesturing to the podium where E once stood.
Now, there stood a figure in a form-fitting under suit, reinforced padding across the thighs and visible across the arms. Silver accents reflected from the under suit, bleeding over onto the slimmed down armour fitted over the chest and shoulders, extending down to the gauntlets on both arms. Thin armour plating were layered across the biceps, for flexibility and manageability.
The silver continued to the helmet, sleek and metallic all over-the exception leading towards the blocky visor and angled mouth guard, the faintest decorative fangs on each corner of the black guard. Stylized ears, folded all the way back against the top sides of the helmet, gave it a sleeker look.
"A combination of military grade graphene and reverse-engineered Ranger tech developed on Earth gave us a base to work from," came E's voice from where the silver-armoured figure stood, stepping back up to the podium. Armoured hands slowly clenched the sides of the podium, the wood audibly groaning under his grip.
"Thanks to the…assistance brought in by Dr Angela Fairweather-Rawlings, former head of Lightspeed's R&D, we were able to adapt a sample from the rare Eltarian alloy, first recovered following the Destruction of the Commander Centre in Angel Grove, 1997. A time consuming, and expensive, endeavour."
"…Mr Canales, I'm not impressed by you sneaking this Morpher into a secure area such as this, especially considering the potential danger you've presented to everyone in the building with the presence of that energy source!"
The Speaker's voice seemed to return to him, as he chastised E. Not that it seemed to phase the Silver Ranger, nothing coming through the blacked out visor.
"But on the contrary, Mr Speaker, there is no presence of the Silver Wolf power source," E countered, extending both arms out and spinning on the spot. Revealing the back of the suit, much smoother and form-fitting, opposed to the bulky back from before, and raised gauntlets. "It is a remote source, kept far away from any civilian life and under very secure lock and key."
"And this is only the beginning."
"…What are you intending for this project?"
'Good. They're coming around. Slowly.'
E pushed those thoughts back as he spoke again.
"We are in the early stages of developing a way to these powers usable for multiple individuals at once; imagine an army enhanced with powers like these. You've seen the footage, the reports; the raw strength and speed those teenagers were imbued with. Imagine that in the hands of people who were trained," E said, a single hand releasing the podium side to hold out in front of him, for all to see him slowly clench it into a fist.
"Strike teams of Power Rangers, plucked from the best of the best this country's Armed Forces have to offer; under the directly watch and orders of the President himself, completing what would take entire battalion's of soldiers months to achieve, overnight. It's the show of strength that this country has dreamt of. And now…it is within our grasp."
E paused, taking a few steady breaths as he allowed his words to sink in. He spotted more than a few curious glances between members; he could practically see the dollar signs flashing in their eyes.
"A superpower like this doesn't come around often; when the time comes, having this Power accessible to every branch of our Armed Force may be the difference between these United States remaining at strength, or decimated. Be these attacks domestic…"
E pointedly gestured to the ceiling.
"…or beyond the Stars."
A short silence followed the end of E's speech, his words truly woven between the members of the committee, only strengthened by exchanged looks and expressions. Even the Speaker of the Committee seemed to still be deciding his next words, jaw clenched and eyes unfocused, thinking.
"I only ask for more time," E finished, emphasising each word as he returned his hands to the podium, resting on top as opposed to accidently ripping it clean off the floor.
The Speaker drew a slow breath, giving a deep exhale as he glanced down at the line of committee members; some returned the look, uncertain looks plain as day on their face. Others were still solely focused on the Ranger standing before them.
"…I think the Committee has had enough excitement for today."
He turned back to E, returning to his seat and trying to get his stack of papers back in order.
"We'll take a break and continue to discuss this matter at a later date. Clearly, this is going to go just beyond a budgetary and threat issue."
The Speaker hesitated for a moment, before giving a nod towards E.
"You've made your point today, Mr Canales…you've certainly made efforts in your work."
E returned the nod, giving a deep exhale he wasn't aware he was holding previously. His shoulders slackened and relaxed, an apparent weight feeling lifted off of them.
It was almost enough to ignore the cascade of copper pouring down his face, hidden by his helmet.
Division 13 HQ
…What day was it even?
Not that it really mattered anymore. Not like he or the others got a chance to realize what day it was. Or whether it was actually day at all. A room with no windows
What was the point of keeping track of it anyway?
Every day felt the same…broken sleep, broken bones, put under, sliced up, diced up, dumped back into the cells. If they were lucky, maybe something that might technically pass as animal feed.
Rince and repeat for…who knew how long.
Every day, a new pain reverberated through his bones. A severed nerve, perhaps, shooting all the way up his arm. Probably from the angle he was forced to sleep thanks to that damn cuff around his arm. But more likely one of the damn guards getting a bit rougher than they could've gotten away with in any other circumstances.
That guy was probably pissed after he had thrown his buddy across the room, landing him square on his neck.
Isaac tried to stifle a laugh, but all that came out sounded more akin to a strangled cough.
His throat was so dry. Still not used to it.
He tried opening his eyes again, feeling the full weight of each eyelid. Like his entire face was made of lead. If he had the motivation to raise his hand to his cheek, he wouldn't be entirely surprised if that was indeed the case.
Fighting through the heavy exhaustion, and the too bright light glaring down at him from within his cell, Isaac's head rolled to the left, falling slack with a resounding clunk against the cold metal. They didn't even have the decency to throw him onto his pathetic excuse of a bed.
Assholes.
He strained to focus his sight, narrowing his eyes again-something far too easy to do compared to opening them-to try and zero in on what he was looking for.
They hadn't raised the frosted glass blocker up on this side; all other views were obscured by the glass effect, except this one where he just so happened to peer through despite his position lying on the floor.
Maybe someone was losing their nerve.
Finally, after much straining, he spotted what he was looking for. His eyes softened, and his chest suddenly hurt that much more. Though it wasn't the barely held together ribs digging in.
This time.
Tanya lay curled up on the bed-or what could possibly be classified as a bed in Guantanamo Bay-her hand clutching her side even as she slept. The bandages wrapped around her midsection were hardly up to the task at hand, judging by the amount of blood that had seeped through.
Something even he, in half a mind, could see from where he was.
He could only imagine how bad the others were, despite them residing beyond his line of sight. He caught glimpses of them when he could; resisting just a little getting in and out of the cells, trying to reach out just to catch of glimpse, see how bad they were.
Their treatment unfortunately exceeded the worst of his expectations.
Cuts, bruises, poorly fitted bandages, awkwardly bent limbs in point. Severe limping, swollen faces, black eyes.
Abuse and mistreatment in plain damn sight.
"It's quiet pathetic really."
It was really pathe…wait, what?
Did…Did he just hear a voice…or…
"Great," he croaked out, his voice barely a whisper. His lips hardly moved as he did his best to speak. "H…Hall..lucina…nations…"
"Oh I am very much not an hallucination, Warrior."
…He must have been losing it.
An audible groan followed his efforts to twist his head back to face up. He just needed to be sure…it was almost certainly this dehydration finally catching up with him, but…but…
Finally getting his head rotated and facing upwards again, Isaac slowly looked all around him, to find-
"F…F…"
"Yes, human. It is I. Fear."
The Demon loomed tall over the crumpled form of Isaac; arms folded across his chest as he stared down. His stone-textured face was twisted into an unimpressed glance, eyebrow-or where eyebrows would've been-cocked at an angle. His shadow stretched out, almost consuming the entire cell and Isaac along with it.
"…Fuck…"
Isaac hacked up a cough after finally getting the utterance out, his throat squeezing painfully, like sandpaper as the coughs violently racked his body.
Fear gave a single tut as he shook his head.
"I'd almost feel sorry, but it is not sorrow that I feel…it's pity. Warriors should be slain in battle, like so many others of your kind. Humans and those mongrel Wolves share that one trait; longing to die for something that had meaning," Fear commented aloud, stepping around Isaac's sprawled out frame, seeming able to move around the cramped space with practiced ease.
"If they could see you now…"
Fear slowly crouched down, looming over Isaac once again. His head tilted slightly, before reaching out. Ignoring Isaac's grunt of pain as he grabbed a fistful of hair, forcefully twisting his head around. Noting the number of scars, new and old, scabbed over or still bleeding. Yellowish-purple bruising centring around the right eye. A thumb pressed against his jaw and yanked his mouth apart; pausing briefly at the sight of his canines teeth far sharper than the other humans.
Like an artist admiring a painting.
"An admirable trait among you humans…your ability and willingness to inflict harm on your own kind," Fear mused, tossing Isaac's head back down with a metallic clunk and sharp grunt from the boy.
Isaac's shoulder racked as he tried to catch his breath, eyes trying to keep up as Fear rose and moved around him again. But nausea threatened to overwhelm him as he did, his head falling slack against the cold floor.
"W…Why a-are..re you…?" Isaac barely squeezed out, hands drawing back in to make a futile attempt at hugging himself, his shirt all but deflating under the weight of his own hair. A far cry from the correct size that it was before he was brought to this Hell.
"Why am I here?" Fear finished, now back standing where he was at the beginning, standing over Isaac, leaning in; his hand raised mockingly to his ear. He pulled back, glaring down at Isaac with a sneer across his face.
"Whose to say I haven't come here to kill you? Or any of the other Warriors?"
Even with the threaten, backed up by the knowledge that he himself had come close to having that very threat followed through with multiple times, Isaac didn't even try to hide the strangled chuckle rupture out. Every other chuckle was interrupted by a series of violent coughs, but that didn't stop them.
"K…Killing…us wo…would be a m…m-mercy. And you…you're su…as shit ain't…merciful."
Even as he tried to get his retort out, Isaac's voice came and went, hoarse and almost gasping to get the words out.
Unseen by the shuddering teen trying to gather himself, a dark smirk pulled across the Demon's stony features.
"Finally learning I see; you may prove to be some form of amusement still, should you survive this place."
Fear turned on the spot, approaching the reinforced door to Isaac's cell.
"Don't worry; I'll be keeping a close eye on you and the rest of these…mongrels. So don't be getting any ideas now."
With those final parting words, Fear continued walking. Phasing right through the security cell, and vanishing from sight.
Though for Isaac, he might as well have ripped the door open and went on his merry way, leaving the door wide open.
It wouldn't have mattered. He didn't have the strength to stand.
As the silence returned again, Isaac felt the full weight of his eyelids start to take their toll, threatening to encapsulate him in darkness once more.
He let it happen.
Savage…where were you…?
"I like to think I've made my point," Zeta stated, slowly rising to his full height again, brushing the specks of dust from his clothing. He towered over the crippled form of Gosei once more, a few weak sparks showering down on the giant Tiki head. His hand wrapped around the small pile of Ranger keys stacked on a lone boulder of rubble, brief flashes of varying light-yellow, red, purple, blue-that vanished up his sleeve.
"I've got what I came for, so now, I bid you adieu, Gosei."
Zeta turned to walk away, already stepping over a few of the larger chunks of rubble-and the now cold body of Troy-when Gosei spoke.
His voice was weak, what little power was left fluctuating but enough to speak.
"Please…"
Zeta half-turned, piercing blue eye catching the light just right to give the illusion of his entire eye alight.
"Don't do this…This is not what Zordon taught you…it is not what Zordon taught us."
A hallow scoff echoed around the chamber, a sneer scratching up Zeta's face.
"That Eltarian coot was a fool from the very beginning. He considered me his greatest failure…I consider him my sole failing for thinking he would make a worthy mentor."
"Zordon is the only reason that the universe has maintained its balance throughout the centuries, even those following his demise. What you are planning to do is a direct threat to that!"
The booming voice of Gosei was interrupted by an aggressive spark, raining down as the Tiki head let out a deep groan. The light of his remaining eye dimmed briefly, struggling to come back.
When he spoke again his voice was level, but quieter.
"I beg you…reconsider this path. It is not too late."
"You even sound like him," Zeta groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took a deep inhale. By the time his hand lowered again, he had a glare already primed in Gosei's direction.
"Ten thousand years of planning, orchestrating the cosmos to my design; I'm not about to let it all fall apart."
He re-approached the fallen face of Gosei, head slowly tilting as he looked over the once mentor. A small smirk tugged the corner of his pale face, as Zeta slowly lowered himself to one knee.
"You've only a few hours of power left, Gosei. You'd better use it wisely. Spread my message, across the Grid. I want every Ranger, in every universe, in every time line to hear my warning; to stand in my way will not end well with any of them. Not even the Morphin Masters can stand in my way. Being afraid to stand oppose me…that will keep them alive."
"Your plans threaten the Grid! An anomaly of this magnitude will not just affect this universe; the entire Multiverse is at risk of falling apart!"
"What? The Great Morphing Grid can't withstand a few Wolf Rangers?" Zeta questioned, a sneer pulling a cold smirk to his lips.
"Not beyond a certain point. The Grid must maintain the Balance between Good and Evil. The survival of your Wolves are-will always be-a divergence that no timeline can withstand unbroken."
"If the Multiverse can restore itself after the likes of Drakkon, I like my chances," Zeta answered curtly, turning back around, and resumed walking away. He kicked a few loose shards of rubble out of his path as he allowed the shadows of the Command Centre's destruction to consume his bright white form.
"What's a few worlds in the grand scheme of the Multiverse?"
"It's not just a few worlds!" Gosei's fractured voice boomed out, more sparks of light raining down. "It never is! If you start this, they will all start coming through! They will never stop! They will never rest! This universe will perish!"
"Oh they will…they'll all be coming for them now. Warlords and Arbiters, Monarchs and Psychos."
Zeta didn't even glance over his shoulder as he responded, his words lingering in the air long after he departed.
"I welcome the entertainment."
To Be Continued...