I still don't own them, and the lawyers are probable more expensive now than they were when I first posted this!
This is Willies view of the events in Soul Of Humanity and immediately after, and (hopefully) goes a little way to explaining his lack of surprise / confusion at Merrick's remarks in The End Of The Power Rangers part 1.
Titaniumtears, this one's for you.
The morning sun is far too bright as I crack open a reluctant eye, the battle scared clock that presents itself for inspection before my face reads 10.30. A sharp pain runs down my side reminding me why I shouldn't sleep in the armchair, forcing open my other eye with an act of will I gaze at my reflection in the mirror above the desk, the livid bruise on my jaw is an instant reminder of last night's events. As I push my self up, the creaking of the chair covers the sound of my joints and a hiss of pain as stiffened muscles proclaim their presence. I hobble across the room into the shower; ten minutes later I reluctantly step out of the shower, and examine my other bruises. Merrick had been withdrawn all day with fits of staring into space, he'd even turned down my offer to play a pool game, but I knew him well enough to know that asking questions wasn't going to get me anywhere so I let it lie. The evening rolled round with all the usual folks turning up, Merrick was like a machine on autopilot, and then this biker gang had come barging in. Pulling on my shirt I smile at the memory, they had come striding in full of bluster looking just like the cowboys in a western on their way to the shootout; all that was lacking was the cheesy music. Smiles and suppressed laughter had rippled round the bar before folks went back to studying their card and pool games, but the smiles soon faded when the gang started throwing themselves around, breaking up the pool games interrupting the poker. Now normally Merrick had thrown them out long before serious trouble started, but he'd just sat at the far end of the bar, staring down as if his whole life were carved into the wood oblivious to anything. The gang leader grabbed hold of my shirt and began demanding free alcohol. I said no; when it comes down to it I do have a business to run here. Rubbing my jaw I walk down the corridor to Merrick's room, time to see if he's been let loose on an unsuspecting world. The guys last night had certainly been unsuspecting; the leader let go of my shirt and threw a punch. I went down under the force of the blow with stars bursting in front of my eyes but the sound must have brought Merrick out of his funk, 'cause by the time I'd shaken my head clear full scale war raged around me.
Living in Turtle Cove you get used to all sorts of weird stuff, giant robot animals, the odd mad household appliance and things which would have people in hysterics if they weren't flattening the city, but what I saw was a no contest prize winner for the worlds' worst nightmare. The polite well-mannered young man I knew as Merrick had gone, and a wild beast wore his form. His green grey eyes burned with fury, his lips were drawn into a snarl that bared his teeth, brows drawn down over his eyes, hair flying out round his head like a mane. He struck at the people around him indiscriminately, the thud of bodies hitting the floor mixed with the crunch of destroyed furniture and the sickening crack of braking bone, with out really thinking I waded into the fray in a desperate attempt to stop things. A few moments later I'd found myself flat on my back, time froze as I stared into the ruin of Merrick's face. I saw almost two images of him, the flushed furious human face buried behind one that would have given power rangers nightmares. His hair had grown to below his shoulder and turned silver, and his face, harder almost as if made of a black metal instead of human flesh, seemed to extend outward into a muzzle, but what chilled me most were those eyes, they were yellow, cold, hard, deadly, the eyes of the hunting wolf and in between showing faintly there was a yellow circle which glowed darkly, time snapped back and survival instincts kicked in as I curled up in a ball, hands in front of my face. Swallowing at the memory I drag myself back to today and find myself staring at his door, squaring my shoulders I knock.
"Merrick, are you there?"
Silence is all my answer, so carefully I open the door. The room is as neat and Spartan as always, seeing no sign that anyone's been in the room I close the door and turn to the stairs down to the bar reviewing the rest of the night's events. Lying there curled up I waited for a blow that never came, lowering my hands I saw that all the fury and colour had drained from his face a he stared down at me, the nightmare mask I had seen before was gone and disbelieving horror was written over his human face. The moment was shattered by the sound of police sirens, the door burst open and five or six uniformed cops stormed through. Two of them grabbed Merrick dropping him to the ground and snapping cuffs on his hands in one movement, I half expected the berserk fury to grip him again but he just lay there unmoving, the sergeant helped me to my feet as they hustled Merrick out the door, the paramedics who had followed the police in began to check over the still forms on the floor. Having got myself checked over by one of the medics and told my tale to the police I closed up the bar, everyone else had long gone. The adrenalin that had carried me through finally gave out and I dragged my self upstairs collapsing into the chair I woke up in this morning.
The sunlight streams into the bar in bright shafts through the cracks in the shutters, catching the dust as it swirls lazily in the air, it's late enough that the sun has warmed the bar giving the place a calm and peaceful feel. My contemplation of the calm is broken by my stomach reminding me about breakfast, walking toward the kitchen I come to the smashed tables and with the experience gained from too many bar fights I asses the cost of repairing the damage. Picking my way through the debris my eye is caught by two envelopes under a large bamboo tube that have inexplicably appeared on the bar, reaching the bar the tube shows itself as a flute, giving the place a quick once over I lift it to my mouth and manage, after a couple of attempts, to make a very unmusical noise. A smile creeps onto my face and I must confess to being glad that I'm alone right now, Merrick has very definite opinions on music and I can see the pained wince that would have graced his face at my experiment, gently placing the flute back on the bar I pickup the envelopes, my name is written neatly in an elegant curving script across the middle of the top one, I know it instantly, Merricks' writing. Turning to walk down the bar to the kitchen and the business of making myself a roadhouse special I tear the envelope open.
Willy,
It is almost certain that by the time you read these lines I will have walked through the dark valley and into the bright dawn beyond, but I could not leave with out some explanation.
The world fades out around me; I feel my legs go leaden underneath me as I stagger to the nearest chair, my fingers have lost their strength and I hear a flat sound as the second envelope hits the floor, the warmth of the bar has gone and a bone splitting chill grips me.
After my unpardonable breach of discipline last night this may be hard to accept but I have been from the day of my arrival here the Lunar Wolf Wild Force Ranger.
No, it is not so hard to accept, it should have been obvious. The constant disappearing and reappearing with bruises and some times with worse always coincided with attacks on the city. Unwilling to read further but somehow unable to stop the rest of the letter passes under my eyes, the whole wonderful and terrible story that he has hidden from all the world is set down in stark black and white and held in my trembling fingers.
Time passes, and I am drawn back to the world by a persistent, soft, melancholy sound, to find the tears I don't know I had spilt have dried into salt tracks down my face, and caused the ink of the letter to run into streaks. Drawing in an unsteady breath I turn my head to the source of the sound, and find the second heart stopping shock of the day leaning against the bar as wrapped up in its thoughts as I was in mine. Desperately needing confirmation of what I'm seeing I gather enough wits and control to say in a rough and unsteady voice.
"Merrick, you live?"
The apparition instantly stops playing the flute and snaps its head round to lock eyes with me, the green grey eyes study me intently almost as if seeing me for the first time, and in that timeless moment we both see each other anew. I see a tired warrior whose strength and faith have been renewed, a man who has struggled for so long that he lost sight of the goal suddenly show the road home. What he see in me I don't know but he must see that I doubt my eyes because he walks across the room and holds out a hand to me.
"Yes" a sharp intake of breath betrays some injury and a small smile creeps over his face "barely."
Forcing my legs to work I stand and take the outstretched hand in mine, the warmth of living flesh and the strength of his grip banish all my doubts, this close I can see that under the dirt and bruises he is pale and tired. Thinking back to the nights I've spent in police cells, and there have been a few, I realize that he's probably not eaten since yesterday afternoon.
"Breakfast?"
"Please"
Turning away towards the kitchen I notice the second envelope that had fallen from my fingers earlier, picking it up I hand it to him.
"Keep it for when you really need it"
He nods at me and then his eyes flicker to the crumpled stained pages in my hand, then back up to me the unvoiced question clear.
"It'll make a great fire starter, and who's going to believe me any way?"
The grin deepens into an outright smile.
"Thank you" a pause as he studies the bruise on my face and then "I think I'd better teach you how to block a punch."
Laughing both with relief and amusement at what has passed I put the pan on the gas and start cooking. A few minutes later the kitchen is filled with the sound and smell of cooking food, the sizzling of the pan is a comforting sound; it speaks of the good things in life and right now bacon and eggs has never smelt so good.
