The Gathering (I) – Part 2
Briarwood, California
The silence that filled the Briarwood Forests was often shattered by the sound of cars speeding down the road that carved through the trees and bushes, providing a more direct path from the City to the rest of the State; before, the residences were forced to take a far more inconvenient backroad that took nearly twice as long as the main road.
While this did make the creatures of the forest semi-accustomed to the revving of car engines, the sound of a pair of motorbike engines roaring pass startled them and sent them scurrying away, some climbing trees just to get away from the violent rage tearing down the road in the blink of an eye. The two bikes, one black and the other crimson, rode side by side one another, taking turns with experienced precision and care.
The rider of the black bike, donning a black helmet and a white leather jacket, shifted up a gear and tore ahead, taking the lead on the road as the bends started to become less frequent and started straightening out. He spared a look to one of his mirrors, seeing the rider of the crimson bike, decked out in all black leather-right down to the gloves-wasn't trying to make up the ground to catch up. After a quick check ahead to make sure nothing would pop up and take him out, he looked over his shoulder, mindful of the dirty white backpack he had on, and did a double check on the other rider.
He got a quick response of a hand coming off the handle and gesturing forward.
The lead rider turned back around to the road in front of him, giving a slight shake of the head as his hands flexed on the handlebars.
The pair rode for another couple of miles, lazily waving along the road as they drew closer to their destination. Signs they passed marked down the miles, until one such sign caught the lead rider's attention.
Welcome to Briarwood
He gestured to the rider behind him to pull into the little parking area just beyond the sign, moving to the side of the road to avoid swerving at the last second. By the time the crimson bike pulled up, the lead rider had already turned the engine to his bike off and set the supports down. The second rider pulled up alongside, twisting the handles and bringing his bike to a stop, finally restoring the silence to the outskirts of the forest.
The black bike rider's hands went to either side of his helmet, and he quickly removed it to balance it on the handlebars, leaning back in his seat.
"Always meant to come back sooner," Nick Russel commented, running a hand through his hair to alleviate the helmet hair that formed during the last leg of their journey. He looked out over the view in front of him, the city of Briarwood in the distance.
The second biker mirrored his son's actions, taking his helmet off and resting it on the front portion of his seat. His eyes, older than Nick's, looked out from their vantage point of the roads over the city, but his eyes soon drifted to the backpack worn by Nick.
"Yes…if only it didn't take something like this to bring us back home." Leanbow's words had a heavy weight to them, trying to look back to the view to ease the pain but found himself slipping into staring at the middle distance and settled on looking at the back of his helmet.
Nick turned around to look at his father, before he shrugged his backpack off and carefully brought it onto his lap. He slowly undid the zip, sliding the backpack's sides aside and taking one of his bikers glove off. His hand slid into the bag, feeling the familiar-shaped container which had the side effect of making a sudden lump form in his throat. But he swallowed the feeling as best he could, fingers tightening around the cool clay and pulling it out of the bag in one careful motion.
He knew he wasn't the most careful of people, but he showed the upmost care and caution as he lifted the urn up and slowly turned it around; the white was just as pristine as when he checked it during their little pitstop in Phoenix. As he turned it around to face him again, the true weight of what was in his hands reared its heavy head.
Nick had taken great care and attention to commemorate the Mystic symbol on the urn's side.
"Mom would've wanted this," Nick replied quietly, turning in his seat to face Leanbow.
Leanbow's eyes landed on Udonna's urn, his jaw tightening as he torn himself away to his fingers rapidly tapping at the top of his helmet. It hadn't gone unnoticed by him that his now late wife had been getting worse over the years, but after her serious decline the previous year, Leanbow had done everything in his power to try and cure her. His adjustment to living in the non-magical word had been met with a few stumbling blocks, after a childhood growing up in the world of magic and becoming a slave to an monstrous evil entity for the better part of twenty years, but with the help of his son, they had managed to get the money together to fund an experimental analysis and treatment to find out what exactly was wrong with her.
But getting the money had meant some losses along the way; including the selling of their house. Yet despite all the losses they had encountered on the way, all the money they had pulled from every nook and cranny, it had done nothing to even slow the aggressive disease literally sucking the life from Udonna.
Even when they did resort to the mystical arts of friend of a friend-someone Xander recommended that operated in San Angeles-it proved to be too little, too late for the once White Mystic Ranger.
Now, the only thing her husband and son could do to honour her memory was to take her back where she spent her life. And they were going to honour her.
A hint of movement out of the corner of his eye caught Leanbow's attention, pausing the drumming of his fingers against his helmet. He looked over his shoulder, expecting it to be a deer darting across the road to the safety of the other side of the forest.
Though last he checked, even Briarwood didn't have any two-legged, all white deer running around. Nor did they just…stand in the middle of the road…staring at them from a distance.
Leanbow shifted in his seat, focusing more and squinting to try and get a better look at the distant figure in white.
"Udonna...?"
"…Dad?"
Leanbow turned back to look to Nick, mid putting the urn back into the backpack and zipping it back up-stopping when he saw his dad was looking back up the road they just came down. When he looked back up the road, it was empty. The figure had…vanished. He turned back to his son.
"Everything alright?" Nick asked.
Leanbow was quiet for a moment, looking down to find his hands tightly gripping his helmet; even with the gloves on, he was sure they were beginning to turn white under the protective wear. He pried his hands free, one gripping the other wrist as he flexed that hand.
"Just…nothing," Leanbow forced out, twisting his helmet around between his hands to have the head hole face upwards, ready for him to slip back on. "These woods always were able to play tricks on the mind; some things never change."
Nick simply nodded; while he agreed and had seen his fair share of strange sightings in the woods that surrounded Briarwood-nearly all of them somehow involving the half-Goblin, half-Troll Phineas-, he couldn't ignore how his father wasn't meeting his eye when he responded.
But he knew he had other things on his mind right now, as did Nick.
He gave the backpack another check, making sure it was fully secured and wasn't going anywhere on the final straight of the journey.
"C'mon," he said, flipping his helmet back onto his head and attached the strap back under his chin. Nick looked to Leanbow; helmet visor up, giving a clear view at the considerate look to his father. "Let's get going; last part of the journey."
He flicked his visor back down, the blacked-out plastic obscuring his eyes as he reignited his bike, the silence of the forest once again being shattered by the roar of an engine. He revved a few times, the sound spiking.
Leanbow gave a slight nod, putting his own helmet back on and pulling the chin strap taut. He looked over his shoulder again, finding the road empty; he would've found it strange for the new main road in and out of the city, but other things were preoccupying his thoughts beside the lack of vehicles on a supposedly busy road.
"Yes, you're right…let's go," Leanbow confirmed, snapping his own visor down and started up his own bike, kicking the stand back to support the bike itself with one leg.
With Nick leading, the father and son joined the road again, taking the weaving lanes down to Briarwood in the distance.
From the signs perspective, the two bikers tore down the road, the aggressive bite of their engines gradually fading before restoring to relative silence.
Not even the sound of footsteps crunching on the sandy rest bay the pair of bikers had been moments earlier broke the silence significantly.
A white boot came to rest on the tire tracks left behind as Nick and Leanbow tore off; the owner of which stared out down the road they had just travelled down, arms folded over his chest.
~~~~\/\/\/~~~~
"You are seriously beginning to piss me off."
Isaac awoke with a start, giving his surrounds a quick once-over; much to his dismay, he hadn't magically transported back to the Command Den and wasn't about to have a new asshole torn from Savage, and then wouldn't get MUTT coming up to separate the pair.
MUTT…Savage…
Isaac closed his eyes again, jaw tightening as he thought back to when he had last seen the two-person mentor/carer Savage and MUTT had become to the five of them. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be outside the confining four walls of his cell; months had passed since he last saw the sun without a thick panel of glass between him and it.
What was taking them so long?
"Hey!"
A fist struck the glass wall of his cell three times in quick succession, bringing Isaac's attention back to what woke him up in the first place. He slowly sat up in the concrete platform with a thin mattress that masqueraded as a bed, the chain attached to his Howler rattling across the ground as he swung his legs over the side. He slowly raised his head, the light catching the black eye forming over his right eye, standing out more so with his skin growing that much paler.
Isaac looked to the glass of his cell, finding E standing dead centre.
"That was a pretty stupid stunt you pulled earlier," E stated, swinging a chair he had dragged over from the scientist's desk and setting it down directly in front of Isaac's cell. He was the only one in the room with the Rangers; the scientists' shift had ended an hour ago, and Fairweather had been assigned to work with Clint on some code that was bugging out the Silver Suit's radar.
Isaac looked towards E, seeing him sit down, legs stretched out and crossed over at the ankles, and slowly pushed himself to stand and approach the glass wall. His chain rattled and dragged against the floor like a steel serpent, coiling up to hook onto the chamber housing Isaac's Howler and wrist.
"I don't really see what you're so pissed off about," Isaac lackadaisically replied, walking right up to the glass and bringing his free forearm up to rest against the cold, smooth surface. He rested his head against the propped-up forearm, staring right back at E. The lights from below highlighted his dishevelled appearance.
"You broke my combat instructors back in five different places," E bluntly replied, leaning forward in his chair, never breaking eye contact with the caged Wolf. "I don't appreciate it when people mess with my men, and I especially don't fucking appreciate it when it is done in such a manner."
"Well, next time I'll aim for breaking it in six places," Isaac responded casually, stepping back to throw his free hand into the air without care. He even had a fractured smirk on that didn't quiet reach his eyes. "Was that all you wanted to say?" he asked, already in the process of walking back to his 'bed', back half-turned to E.
"What exactly is your problem?" E demanded, the hand on his knee clenching into a fist.
"What's my problem?" Isaac echoed, stopping but still had his back to E. He turned around slowly; the smile had completely slipped off his face, reverting to an entirely hostile look.
"What do you think my fucking problem is? Don't know, might have something to do with the fact you've got us caged here like fucking animals?"
Isaac punched the opposite wall of his cell E had positioned in front of, though only succeeded in creating an insignificant ripple that faded as soon as it started. His glare darkened as he advanced back to the window E propped himself up in front of; though the Agent showed no sign of unease. His trust was in the cell's construction.
"Or maybe it's the fact you seem to be content sitting on your arses, gawking at us while those Demon bastards are doing God knows what to send us back to the dark ages. Or something that'll make that look like child's play in comparison!"
With each sentence, Isaac delivered another blow to the wall of glass; each time, the ripples lasted mere moments before the surface retained its smoothness again. He stared intensely at E, teeth bared; his previously flat incisors noticeably sharper, looking like a row of canines lined up.
"What's your fucking problem with us?"
Isaac slowly walked back up to the screen E still sat in front of, silent against Isaac's brief outburst. The contained Red Ranger reassumed the same position he had before, head resting on the forearm, resting on the glass. Only difference now was the lack of a smile.
"What's your problem with the Power Rangers?"
E stared at Isaac through the glass in silence, his face not betraying the thoughts going through his mind.
"Elijah!"
The young voice shouted through his head, yet it was barely louder than a whisper's echo.
"Answer my question, and I'll answer yours."
Isaac stared for a moment, before he gave an airy scoff and lazily stepped back. His arms carelessly outstretched, as if jeering towards an invisible crowd of thousands, or a crowd of one.
"Ask away."
E slowly rose to his feet, walking right up to the glass so there were barely a few inches separating his nose and the glass. As though he was putting forward a challenge to the restrained Wolf.
A challenge Isaac did not hesitate to take on.
He walked back the paces he previously stepped back, right up to the glass; the only thing that kept the two apart.
"What will it take for you to be more…compliant?"
He got a scoff of disbelief in response.
Isaac leaned in further, his forehead directly pressing against the glass, the gaps between him blinking growing uncomfortably long.
"There is nothing you could say or do, in this life or the next, that'll make me even consider helping you," Isaac harshly whispered, pushing off from the glass screen and walking back to his bed again, back once again turned to E.
"Now why don't you get out of here and let me get some fucking sleep? If I'm going to go through another 'demonstration' tomorrow, like some shitty show dog, I want some damn sle-"
"You know, those are nearly the exact same words your father said to me when I met him for the first time."
Isaac's breath, and words, caught in his throat as E's words slowly sunk in. He froze where he stood, halfway between his bed and the glass screen; his free hand noticeably tightened into a fist, and he could have felt his nails digging into his palm, if his mind wasn't already preoccupied. He turned sharply on the spot, facing E once more.
"It's amazing how alike the two of you are…or annoying," E rolled his eyes, still standing in front of the glass as Isaac slowly traced his steps back to in front of the Government Agent. By the time E looked to him again, Isaac was back in place in front of him. In the same spot as before.
"You don't know jack shit about my dad," Isaac whispered, but even his low voice couldn't hide the faint quiver woven between his words.
If E heard it, he didn't react; though this half-smirk that appeared on his face afterwards might have said otherwise, but that was because of something not too far from it.
"I think I know more than jack shit; in fact, I think I could easily say I know more than you do about what happened to him."
"I know exactly what I need to know about that bastard and what he did to my mum; divorced her in the middle of the night, then fucked off and got himself blown up in the Middle East. That's all there's fucking…to it!"
Anger sparked in Isaac's words, ending the brief outburst with a sudden kick to the lower part of the wall. Another ripple warped up the screen, lasting minutely longer than the ones that resulted from the punches. The force sent Isaac staggering back a few paces, his chest rising and falling rapidly as tried glaring fire at E.
A stark contrast to Isaac's blazing fire, E was surprisingly calm. He watched Isaac's fury lash out, but it was as though the wall acted as a barrier to the verbal blaze. When he opened his mouth to respond, however, he quickly extinguished Isaac's fire.
"Is that what they told you?"
E walked back to his chair, away from the cell and its occupant, as he grabbed it by the backrest and slowly turned it around. All while he continued talking.
"While it's true, as far as you and the rest of the world would've know, your father, Arthur Richards, died to an attack while on patrol in Afghanistan, following the commencement of Operation: Enduring Freedom. Though the reports say he took several attackers down, as well as destroy a commandeered tank, officially he was pronounced dead and his body was flown back to England in full honours."
E cleared his throat as he set the chair back down, turned it 180 degrees and sat back down, saddling the chair as his arms crossed over the backrest.
"Of course," E continued, noting that he still had Isaac's attention-more than that, the boy seemed to be very closely paying attention to his every word. "That's what the official report said…though that wasn't what happened."
"What do you mean?"
The shake in his words had grown, only partially trying to conceal it as Isaac backed up from the glass. Even through the thick panels, E could see the cogs slowly beginning to turn in Isaac's eyes; and to go from gathering dust to rapidly trying to process what he was being told would make anyone want to sit down.
As Isaac tried to gather himself on the edge of his bed, E rose from his seat.
"Afraid that's all I'm at literately to say; your Government was really tight-lipped about their secrets-as is any nation-especially their dirty little secrets."
"W-Wait!" Isaac exclaimed, realizing E was in the process of leaving as he rushed against the glass once again, palms spread wide and tight against the screen. "What makes you think I can fucking trust what you say?" he tried that edge of anger to his words again, but the way it wavered showed it lacked the fire that backed up his earlier remarks.
E set the chair back at the desk he had acquired it from, only partially turning back around to Isaac and offered a half shrug in response. He barely tried concealing the smirk that danced across his face.
"Keep going the way you're going, and that'll be all you know about what really happened with your-"
"OK!"
He paused, slowly turning on the spot to find Isaac with his head facing down, the one hand balled into a fist with the other contained hand left faint scratches against the transparent wall. His breathing was ragged, slightly muffled coming through the cell walls.
"What…What do you want?"
Isaac slowly lifted his head up, looking towards E with a look that…honestly, the Agent wasn't entirely sure what it was. He hadn't seen the teenager show anything outside of anger or sarcasm since seeing him face to face; it was like seeing through a chink in his armour beneath his exterior Ranger protection.
E slowly walked back up to the cell, arms clasped behind him as he now loomed over the hunched Isaac.
"I told you already."
E leaned in, bending down slightly to meet Isaac's eye.
"Your compliance."
E slowly rose back to his full height, turning on the spot and began walking away.
"I'll give you some time to think over your options," E called back, the automatic doors' sensors picking up movement and opening up. But E stop just short, looking back towards the Ranger cells. The glass wall of Isaac's was starting to frost over again, minimizing his view in and out. "I trust that you'll make the right decision."
With a final look back, seeing Isaac's conflicted face nearly gone behind the glass, E stepped out but paused.
"Angel Grove, '98. The Rangers brought my world crumbling down around me. That's what I have against the Power Rangers."
He walked into the corridor, the door closing, and locked shut behind him. A small light switching from green to red.
He turned around, looking through the small windows into the room; they were made with glass even thicker than the transparent cell walls used to contain the Rangers, on the off chance they managed to find a way out of their confinements.
As he went to turn away and return to walk down the corridor-Clint was in the middle of going through various records Fairweather had 'willingly' handed over to them-when he switched from looking through the glass, to looking at the reflection.
A quick pat to his top lip later, E looked at the freshly blood-smeared fingertip.
"Again…?"
He grabbed a tissue from his pocket, already dotted with a few dried blood marks, and cleared his upper lip as he hastily walked down the corridor, already mentally planning to get an explanation for the abnormal nosebleeds.
~~~~\/\/\/~~~~
Nick pushed the head of the shovel into the dirt, leaning the handle against the nearest tree as he turned around to the shallow hole he had given; his leather jacket had been discarded, thrown over a low hanging branch, revealing the deep red vest he wore underneath; some things never changed, it seemed.
He looked back to his father, who dug his own shovel into the ground not too far from the hole they had created.
They had elected to avoid the city for the time being; there would be time to head in later, with their own reasons and to catch up with the friends they still had there-Nick especially had the intention of seeing if Maddie was still in this neck of the woods, last he heard she was but V had left to go traveling-but this was what was more important.
Leanbow walked back to their bikes, where Nick's backpack lay resting against the front wheel. He looked back to Nick, silently gesturing to the bag at his feet.
Nick returned the nod.
Leanbow retrieved the urn and returned, his hand running over the painted on Mystic symbol as he returned to the small grave.
"Your mother always like this spot," Leanbow commented as he came to a stop, slowly lowering down to one knee beside the hole they had dug. Nick knelt on the opposite side, giving a firm breath out as his hands came to rest on his thighs; dirt from his palms rubbing off on the denim, but this was the last thing on his mind right now.
Instead, he gave a slight nod.
"Yeah…I remember finding her out here a few times…Makes you wonder how she managed to find a place like this, this far from Root Core."
A small smile tugged at the corner of Leanbow's rugged features, as he caressed the urn. "Your Mother always had her secrets…" he commented, one hand coming up to support the underside of the urn, before offering it to Nick.
Nick leaned forward, partially balancing on his knees as he took a hold of his Mothers' urn with his father. Showing extraordinary care, together, the father and son slowly placed the urn of ashes into its final resting place.
Carefully setting the urn into the grave, the two pulled their hands away, coming back to rest of either the ground or their legs as they looked into the hole in silence.
Nick wasn't sure what to say; he was never the best with getting his words across, and he knew for a fact he took after his father in that department. But this was one of those situations where words just weren't needed; they both knew what was going through each other's minds, so words seemed almost unnecessary at such a time.
He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he barely registered the coarse hand that grasped his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
But it was enough to send a wave of emotion over him before he had a chance to keep it together; every moment he had spent with Udonna during his time as a Ranger, both before and after he had been told the bombshell that he was her son. Every tender moment their shared, every bond they re-forged after being separated for so long.
"Bowen…"
Nick looked to Leanbow, a pair of tears streaming down his tightly drawn face as he faced his father. Feeling the tears moved down his cheeks, he quickly brought his other hand up to wipe them away; now was a moment to be strong, the time to shed a tear would come later….
"…I miss her…"
But it seemed the time had already come.
Hearing his son's broken tone and conflicting emotions, mirroring his own, Leanbow couldn't keep it in anymore. He brought Nick into a tight hug, hand firmly grasping at his son's shoulder as the other came up to the back his head, pressing Nick's face against his shoulder. The caring moment, especially in such a venerable moment for the father and son, was a rarely seen side for the pair. But considering the relative privacy they had, not to mention the very emotional situation that had befallen them, they both allowed themselves, and the other, a moment to just…let it out.
Leanbow cradled the back of his son's head, briefly opening his eyes, a tear trailing the side of his nose.
"I miss her too…"
The two remained in their embrace for what seemed like the longest time, the light breeze their only companion…
Until the crunching of leaves broke the mostly silent scene and seemed to change the very direction of the wind itself.
"A shame really…"
Both Leanbow ad Nick immediately pulled back from one another at the voice and turned to the source; at the sight that greeted them, both men immediately jumped to their feet.
"Who the hell are you?" Nick demanded.
Leaves crunched as boots stepped closer, but barely any mud clung to them as their owner walked nearer. Hands were held up in mock surrender, giving the uneasy presence of harmless arrogance, which gave a sharp contrast against the cocky half-smirk plastered across his face.
"Ease yourself, Bowen. I'm not here to start a fight that doesn't need starting."
Nick went to take a step forward, but Leanbow placed a hand on his son's shoulder. Sparing a brief glance to his son, Leanbow slowly moved a step forward, gesturing for Nick to stay back. When he was sure he would stay, Leanbow turned back to the mysterious figure.
"Then why are you here? Last I checked, Briarwood is another twenty miles west," Leanbow remarked, gesturing to the side with an outstretched arm.
"Well I'm not here for anything in Briarwood, what I seek lies…elsewhere."
Zeta came to a stop just shy of Leanbow, the two standing with mere feet separating them.
Leanbow narrowed his glare, sizing up the mystery man; he would have heard him coming, there was no way he'd be able to make it this far on leaves unnoticed. Even if they hadn't heard them, surely the birds and other woodland wildlife would've heard him coming…But the more Leanbow paid attention, the more he noticed the lack of a…reaction coming from the forests.
No spooked birds. No scattering deer. Not even a leaf tearing off a branch.
"Then why are you here?"
Leanbow turned to face Zeta again, and was taken aback, not to mention slightly unnerved, by the sudden closeness from the other man; he must have taken a second step in the short time, because he was almost right in the retired wizard's face.
"In any other situation, I'd simply be here to…" Zeta's head tilted to the side as he looked around Leanbow, before pulling back. "Pay my respects."
"Pay your respects?" Nick questioned, quickly stepping up to his fathers' side against this intruder.
Zeta glanced across at Nick, giving him barely a second glance over, before he turned back to look to Leanbow.
"Udonna was a friend of mine. I heard of her…passing and, well, I had to make sure for myself. I did not think it possible."
Zeta side stepped and slowly walked around Leanbow. Nick went to go and block the opposite side, but Leanbow turned around and outstretched an arm to block Nick's path. When his son looked to him, a mix of confusion and growing outrage at the new face, but Leanbow's hardened father look kept it subsided for the moment.
"And who exactly might you be?" Leanbow questioned, arms folding over his chest. "We don't get many new faces around here, and I think I'd recognise someone like you."
Zeta had his back to Leanbow by this point, but the Knight could tell that something was off. He just had this…feeling, something wasn't right with this guy.
"Well…you could say that I'm not the average person."
"Alright that's enough."
Nick barged past his father's arm-"Bowen!"-and went to grab onto the white-jacket of the man. "Why don't you skip all the crypticness and get to the point of who the hell you are?"
Nick tried to grab a fistful of the unknown material that made up the man's clothing, only to find himself grabbing nothing but air. Before he had a chance to react, Zeta had turned around on the spot and raised an open palm.
"Manners cost nothing, young Bowen," Zeta lightly remarked, almost condescendingly so. "Perhaps one day you'll know better."
His first and ring finger then pressed against Nick's forearm, a faint blue pulse radiating across Nick's face.
Instantly, Nick's body slumped to the ground, dropping like a sack of potatoes against the leaves. His eyes remained open, immediately debunking any suspicion of him being asleep; instead, they were glazed over, milky white with just the faintest tint to blue streaking through.
"Bowen!"
Leanbow rushed forward and dropped to his knees by his son's side, trying to wake his son before noticing the glossed-over look in his eye. He turned his eyes upward, a new fury blaze overtake them.
"Dammit Zeta!"
Leanbow jumped back to his feet, his Crimson Wand Morpher suddenly appearing in hand and unfolded, the jewel at the end glowing a bright blue; an attack spell already partially in the works, but Leanbow wouldn't allow himself to do something as dishonourable as a sneak attack.
No matter how tempted he was.
"What the hell do you want?!"
Zeta slowly turned to face Leanbow, eyes giving a sparing glance down to the new offensive stance the Wizard took. A tense air suddenly surrounded the small clearing, one body already down and another buried a short distance away.
But then Zeta smirked.
"I knew you couldn't forget who I was…"
Zeta's arms folded neatly behind his back, the brief silence seeming to drag out. And it dragged out Leanbow's patience, raising his Morpher Wand to point directly at the white-wearing mystic.
"I asked you a question," Leanbow growled, the crystal end of his Morpher growing in brightness. "What do you want?"
Zeta waited a few seconds-was he thinking of a response or was he simply testing to see how far Leanbow's patience went?-before responding.
"Maybe years prior, I aided you in the build up to the Mystic Wars. A debt was created that day, and now…I've come to collect."
To Be Continued...