The Gathering (II) – Part 2

The scene from outside the Rawlings house was progressively getting worse; gunshots echoed out of the open front door, and newly smashed living room window after a stray bullet flung itself through the glass. Muffled shouts came from throughout the house, with audible impacts sounding off perfectly in sync with strained voices getting cut off mid-shout.

The soldier that had the unfortunate fate of being flung right back through the door following the initial breach entrance slowly returned to consciousness, a low groan escaping out of his gas mask as his hands numbly felt around. When he got enough feeling back to realize he had his hand over the filter, he managed to ease the mask off.

Taking a gasp of unobstructed air for the first time since he and the squad burst into the building, the solider turned on the spot-he had landed facing the street, the momentum of the force throwing him out had sent him tumbling-to face the house again.

He barely got the chance when, not even a second later, the body of another one of his squad mates was flung through the air. The pair were sent to the ground, a mass of limbs and body armour as they came to rest. For the first soldier, he returned to the land of unconsciousness.

Joel slowly moved back into a defensive stance as he cautiously stepped through the doorway of his house. Now sporting the green and white Lightspeed Ranger suit for the first time in years, standing out against the otherwise mundane looking surroundings. His fists were raised in a boxing-like defence, the white gloves wound tight as his eyes swept across the perimeter. His triangle-shaped visor catching the sunlight just right to reflect without allowing it to get in his eye.

"Coast is clear…for the moment," Joel called back, allowing his stance to relax but only a fraction as he glanced back at the open doorway. "Thank God it's a Tuesday."

From within the house, Carter emerged-donning his Red Lightspeed Ranger suit, like he never left it-and did his own quick sweep, falling into line with Joel. "We need to move out before more of them show up," Carter said, jerking his head towards one of the street. "I've got the Rover a few streets over."

He glanced back to Joel as he explained before both turned around completely to face the ruined façade of the house. Bullet holes scattered through the walls, windows smashed, the front door looked about ready to fall right off its hinges. Even the house number attached beside the door was hanging by a single thread.

Not to mention the numerous unconscious bodies littered in, and out, of the house.

"…Sorry about the house."

"Not sure who's gonna be more annoyed," Joel replied, sparing a side glance to Carter. "Angela or HOA."

"We'll get this sorted when this is all over," Carter assured, placing a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Right now, fixing this is the least of my worries," Joel replied, though did give a nod of appreciation from Carter's assurance. "You've got a lot of explaining to do."

"Luckily we've got a long trip ahead of us," Carter agreed, before the pair quickly ran off down the street, still in their Ranger uniforms. The red and green pair left behind the chaotic scene.

The two quickly ran out of sight, much to the frustration of Agent S, still situated within her surveillance van. The two technicians were working furiously, making various calls and tapping away at their keyboards. Various screens flashed through their monitors, switching from one to the other at a well-trained pace.

"Ma'am, E's asking for an update," one of the technician's suddenly called, phone in hand and offered to S.

S's eyes dropped to the phone. Who knew such a simple device could form such a solid lump of dread in the pit of her stomach? Her hand twitched on instinct, to reach for the device and tap in a number she had had burned into her memory for the past year. But at the last second, S tensed her arm, keeping it in place.

"Tell him I'll get back to him," S replied, earning brief looks from both technicians. "If he finds out about this, it's not just gonna be my head on the chopping block. We'll sort this out and get Rawlings back. Then I will give E an update."

"But ma'am," the second technician protested, turning in his seat-turning away from the monitors-to face the Agent. "Agent E was pretty insistent that we provide regular updates, and he will absolutely want to know about this-"

"He'll know nothing unless I tell him, got it?" S hissed, scowling at the unruly tech that dared to question her authority. "And if you value your position within this unit, I suggest you keep your mouth shut."

That quickly shut the technician down, sparing a quick glance with his fellow techie, before both quickly returned their focus back to the matter at hand. The phone was placed back on the desk, screen facing down.

S began to pace, running a hand through her hair. Her mind was racing, desperately trying to come up with a solution.

"Keep an open comm for any activity with former Rangers and Ranger teams. I want to know where they are, who they're with, and any unusual activity in their areas. I doubt this will only be these two we'll have to be worried about if we don't catch them. So tell any and all operatives, to keep their eyes open."

Horror's Domain

Through the dim catacombs and caverns of his Master's domain, Fear skulked among the shadows. His footsteps glided across the ground, hidden beneath the ankle-deep smog that clung close to the surface, hiding whatever horrors could be lurking just beneath the surface.

Of course, Fear knew they wouldn't dare touch him.

The Hand of Horror worked his way through the seemingly endless maze yet knew exactly where he was going; the path had been physically engrained into his mind from the moment of his creation and purpose, and he had traced the route ever since. Days did not exist here, but Fear knew it was much more frequent than that.

He eventually reached his destination; the Master's main chamber, and upon his throne, sat the Master himself.

"My Master," Fear greeted, giving an elegant bow before the raised throne of Horror.

"Fear…What is the status of the Pillars?"

Direct and to the point as ever, Horror's menacing red glare blazed like fire beneath his shadow shroud, burning themselves into Fear's bowed skull. If his head wasn't ducked, Fear was certain the glare would burrow through his eyes to get his answer if he didn't answer quick enough.

"My Master, follow the discovery of the Eastern Pillar, I have scoured this world in search of the remaining Four," Fear began, rising to his full height again as he gave a sweeping motion with his hand. Emerging from fog, green mist rose. It started to take form, transparent fog twisting into shar corners and edges, patterns taking shape. Borders were traced out, mapping out land masses and eventually taking the form of an enlarged map. A bright red blip, like an open wound, formed over Japan.

"Though I have discovered that finding the remaining Pillars was more…difficult than I originally anticipated," Fear went on, swiftly guiding his hand-and the map-along, letting it 'scroll' to bring another landmass into the centre of attention. "I initially attempted to locate the former Hands who once guarded and ruled over each region of this world, but it seems the Humans have done far more damage than first realized."

"What do you mean?" Horror's bony claw tapped the skull-ended armrest, agitation easily bleeding through the air.

Fear noted this, hoping he didn't give any cues that he did, as he continued, "It appears the human disease on this world has had a far greater effect than I anticipated. Lesser demons, sealed away on the Human World-stragglers from the Demon War 10,000 years ago-dying out. Even the former Hands could not escape such erosion over this vast length of time."

"But finding the Pillars do not rely entirely on the survival or remains of the former Hands, as you well know, my M-"

"Get to the point."

Horror's interruption sliced through Fear's words like a flaming great sword, sending the rest of Fear's sentence shrivelling back down his throat. It took a few seconds but Fear quickly recovered and gave a slight clearing of his throat.

"Yes Master," he replied quietly, expanding the map once again.

Another three wounds opened up across the map, blood red spots standing out both against the misty green map and the dingy atmosphere of the chamber.

"I have located two of the Pillars situated on two of this world's islands; the larger land mass in the bottom quadrant," Fear explained, gesturing towards Australia before his hand-and the map-moved across to England, "and this one right in the middle. They were the easiest to find, due to either their world shifting to give grand natural structures that could be seen for miles around, or the wretched humans themselves constructing monuments. In some fruitless effort to appease your Mastery, no doubt."

"The last two, however, are proving to be a bit more difficult to find," Fear went on, flicking the map across so that the Western-most land masses were front and centre between Master and his Hand. "I will intensify my search, I've narrowed down the fact that one Pillar resides in either one of these larger land masses, one in the North, and one to the South."

With his explanation, the North and South America continents bled a nasty green, far darker than the shade used to make the majority of the map, before evaporating just as fast.

"It…may take me some time to narrow down both locations enough to truly activate them," Fear added, a slight edge of hesitation hanging on his words as he quickly wrapped everything up, his fog map projection evaporating and falling back into the larger collective on the ground.

"Hmmm…" Horror muttered under his breath, pausing the finger tapping long enough for Fear to be grateful that he had no breath to hold.

"Continue your search, find the Pillars. But exercise discretion; the humans appear to have…lost sight of us. We must take advantage of this, and act before they realize its too late."

"Yes, Master," Fear responded briskly, giving another bow before quickly walking off, soon the only evidence of him ever being there was the layer of disturbed smoke in his wake.

The distant tearing of a portal, and the subsequent sealing of one, came from one of the caverns leading out of Horror's chamber.

Silence soon followed this, a frozen sensation washing over the caverns.

Only Horror remained in his throne, bony fingers like talons as they gripped the skull ends of his arm rests. A few moments later, however, Horror's hand raised and were brought together, bony fingers intertwined with each other.

"10,000 years of waiting…best make your play soon, Zeta, before your precious world is mine…"

Hell's Kitchen, New York

"Hey, Mark!"

Merrick lifted his head, previous focus on making sure the floor was cleared gone as the voice break through. He stuffed the nearly dried mop back into its bucket and moved the entire thing to let it lean against the nearest wall, making his way across the bar.

The Eclipse Bar, the latest in a long line of one-off, cash in hand jobs for Merrick, had done him well for the last few weeks. Keeping his head down, doing the jobs he had signed up for, collect a weekly pay. Rinse and repeat for however many weeks he needed, before moving onto the next.

It wasn't the ideal cycle for anyone, but for Merrick, it was one of the few inconsistencies in his otherwise nomadic life.

"Yep?" he asked, rounding the second corner of the bar and coming to a stop just before the door that led into the backrooms.

There, standing in the doorway, was Dennis; in his late 50s, hairline already receding, and shirt sleeves rolled up to over his elbows, he had certainly seen better days, but none were brave enough to tell that to the old-timer's face. Not that the thought ever once crossed Merrick's mind, especially after Dennis gave him the job in the first place. While he was no Willie, he certainly did Merrick a favour.

Dennis handed over a white envelope, which looked comically small compared to his beefy hands and forearms. "Your pay."

Merrick took the envelope with a nod and a quiet, "Thanks," before turning to head back. Even with the pay in hand, didn't mean he had to slack.

"Ey," Dennis called, causing Merrick to pause and turn on the spot. Dennis gestured for him to come back, and after a few seconds, Merrick was back around the bar again. "There's some guy out back asking 'bout youse," Dennis revealed, his voice a level lower than previously as he aimlessly gestured behind him.

Merrick raised an eyebrow and fruitlessly glanced behind Dennis; the back room served as storage and a small kitchen to the right, but it didn't allow for a direct view to the door that led out back.

"What did he look like?" Merrick asked, partially resting his hip against the bar.

"Eh, didn't get a good look at him, light's been busted out there for a week. Pretty stocky though," Dennis explained, his tone taking a warning edge to it towards the end as he moved aside, opening up the divider to step behind the bar and out of the way of the door. Merrick lifted himself from resting against the bar and turned to face Dennis as the two were now separated by the bar.

"Don't want to keep them waiting," Merrick concluded, reaching back to remove the apron he had on and throw it down behind the bar.

"Better do," Dennis agreed, adding, "Hey, there's a bat by the back door. Take it with ya, just in case."

Merrick glanced back, already partway through the door when Dennis added his suggestion. He offered a small eyebrow raise in response, before assuring, "I'll be fine," as he continued through, the door swinging close behind him.

Passing another couple of employees, Merrick took a right turn, then a left, and he was at the back door. A great steel one, fitted with several mandatory safety warnings; so it was with some amusement, Merrick noted, to find it propped open with an old crate.

A quick shake of the head and shuffling of the crate later, Merrick pushed open the heavy door, immediately greeted with the dimly lit alley. A solitary light hung over the back entrance, one of the only lights within the alley. Down either end, if he looked hard enough, Merrick could make out the ends leading out into the brightly lit streets, a few distant voices of the sprawling city's inhabitants.

What he couldn't see, however, was someone waiting to talk to him.

Not that he trusted his eyes to know what was in his immediate surroundings.

Merrick walked out into the alley, letting the heavy back door swing almost close-only barely missing activating the automatic lock-and standing just within the glow of the barely illuminating light.

"What is it Zen?"

A shadowy form shifted above Merrick, keeping just beyond the light's reach, seemingly floating as it traversed to land on the ground with a barely audible thump, which could have easily passed as one of the trash bags finally rolling over. The form gradually gained a defined shape as it took a step towards the light, revealing the towering Duke-Org emerging behind Merrick.

"We have company."

Merrick turned around to face Zen-Aku, who simply gestured to the very top of the towering building that made up the opposite side of the alleyway. His eyes turned upward, and briefly widened as his instincts drove him to taking a more defensive stance.

Illuminated by the crescent moon, Savage stood atop the towering building, his crimson gaze staring down at the Human and Org pair all the way down on the ground.

"Guess I'm getting off work early," Merrick stated, glancing across to Zen-Aku. Zen-Aku simply responded by folding his arms, giving a single nod.

Division 13 HQ

E stared intently at the screen before him, arms folded across his chest as the scene unfolded. His foot tapped repeatedly in barely hidden impatience.

Through the live stream, several medical staff passed by the camera, all dressed up in full white hazmat suits and respirator masks. One stood in the corner with a clipboard, scribbling furiously as the rest worked around her.

In the middle of the room, and the feed, sat a table, sterile save for the body lying across it. Arms were spread out on either side, supported by extended arm boards. Several heavy leather straps kept them bound to the table, pulled tight and secured in place.

Even so, the several armed guards flanking either side of the room were little comfort.

"You're seriously telling me that it took them fifteen doses of anaesthetics to even get Mr Colon drowsy?" E questioned, turning to one of the white coats sat on the desk in front of him.

The doctor turned around in her chair to face E after he spoke, hands stilling over the keyboard.

"That's a low-ball estimate," she explained, gesturing to the camera feed, "I still need to talk to the rest of the medics to confirm a final amount. But we definitely burnt our way through a dozen medial packs."

"And we're not going to be getting anymore till the Senate is happy with some results we give 'em," E muttered, dragging a hand down his face as he heaved a great sigh. "OK, whatever, let's just…" he quickly moved towards one of the desks and pressed on a button of a microphone.

"Doc, not entirely sure how much time you've got, so best make it quick," E instructed, adding, "We need a big enough sample to compare to multiple subjects, so don't skimp."

"Understood," the unseen Doctor replied, off-camera, before coming into view. Fully done up in sterile gowns and gloves, he approached the table. A pair of equally scrubbed up assistants rolling in trolleys, stacked with all manner of equipment.

Just as they were about to get started, the doors to the office opened.

E turned sharply, and his expression grew dark when he saw it was Clint that had entered. The others present in the room, mainly R&D and technicians, remained focused on the screens as E stepped away. He turned away and approached the Agent, already preparing for the worst.

"What's the play?" he asked Clint, giving a guiding touch to Clint's shoulder, moving the pair of them a little further away.

"Mallory's called for a Senate meeting next week; he's expecting you there. With results."

E grit his teeth, glancing over his shoulder back to the screen again.

"We've got some results," E said, turning back to Clint, as if reassuring himself. "The schematics for the Silver suit, lab results from their Morphers. We're getting DNA samples to show the alterations to their bodies, for God sake. If that isn't enough to satisfy them, I don't know what fucking is."

"You're gonna have to think of something else to give them," Clint pressed in a hushed whisper, folding his arms over his chest as he stole glances at the operation in progress via live feed. "Some of the Senators seem to be losing patience, wondering what kind of blackhole their black budget is getting siphoned to."

"Not like any of them need it for anything. Not like there's another Stevens, Inouye and Ried planning more UFO expansions behind the scenes," E muttered, rubbing his forehead before running his hand through his hair. He swore the hair at either side were starting to turn grey. That wasn't right for someone his age.

"Maybe not. Doesn't stop them throwing a hissy fit when they have to take dirty tax payers' money to fund their next house expansion," Clint responded dryly, hands going into his pockets as he watched E not even try and hide the eyeroll he gave.

"True as that may be, they're gonna be sending me all the money they can get their grubby paws on when they see what these powers can do," E muttered, giving a final look over the monitors again-they were mid operation at this point-before striding towards the doors.

"Keep the recording of that footage!" he ordered, throwing the command over his shoulder as he exited the room.

The doors flew open as E marched out, stalking down one of the corridors immediately. That only lasted a moment, however, because not even a dozen steps away from the room, E suddenly felt…off.

The corridor became blurry, the hallway seemingly moving of its own accord as he staggered a few steps further. Eventually, his legs almost gave out beneath him, forcing him to use the wall for support. He grit his teeth, giving a growling moan of pain as his brain suddenly felt four sizes too big for his skull.

Managing to support himself with one hand, the other dived into his trouser pocket, rooting around until he felt it, the small cylindrical shape, and forced his teeth to unclench as he forced it into his mouth. It was difficult to swallow without water, but after a few seconds, E managed to get it down.

Even though the pain continued to linger, E forced himself to push off of the wall, working overtime to ensure his feet stayed beneath him. A rough shake of the head shook some of the quickly formed cobwebs out, but not enough to entirely focus; the hall still seemed a bit unfocused.

"Fuck every-fucking-thing," E growled, grinding his teeth together as he forced one foot in front of the other, slowly resuming his path down the corridor.

Unaware of the short droplet trail of blood that followed him.

Aquitar

The water world of Aquitar looked eerily calm from space, only great storm clouds covering entire hemispheres of the world gradually rotating with the motion of the great windstorms. They hid the true weight behind the storms on the surface, great tidal waves hundreds of feet high crashing down under their own weight, only to begin the gradual rise again.

Fortunately for most of the natives of the world, the potential damage these waves might have caused was minimal. Over millions of years of evolution and knowledge of where the worst storms of their history generally hit, allowed the underwater species to set up their cities in the calmer waters of the depths, living relatively peaceful lives.

And despite being among their calmer livelihood for the better part of thirty years, this didn't ease Billy's nerves this time.

It was late, the 27th hour approaching, as he stared out of the large circular window in the 'living suite' of his house; even after all these years here, he still found the minute differences in to what the Aquitians referred to back on Earth a bit of a mix up sometimes. One arm was held across his chest, the other propped up, thumb resting against his lips. He was half-tempted to start biting the nail but decided against it. For now.

"Billy?"

The ever familiar voice bubbled through their house, and was about the only thing that eased Billy enough to smile, even if only a little, as he turned to face Cestria.

"Is everything alright?" the Aquitian asked quietly, as if talking too loudly would disturb the waves up high on the surface. She carefully approached Billy from behind, running a comforting hand up Billy's back to let it rest on his shoulder, looking out through the window along with her husband. "You seem tense."

"It…It's nothing, really," Billy answered, a little too quickly, as he tore his eyes away from the watery depths beyond their home to his wife. "Just…thought I saw something."

"It is migrating season," Cestria reminded him, meeting Billy's eyes. Her gaze searching, a hand slowly coming up to rest on Billy's cheek. Her lips twitched into a slight frown. "But something tells me you didn't spot a stray shark."

Billy's eyes fell close briefly, giving a quiet exhale out of his nose as he leaned forward. Cestria tilted her head up to meet him, their foreheads coming together. For the first few times, it was far more of an awkward placement-Cestria's Aquitian crown making it an unfamiliar interaction-but over the years, it was almost like it wasn't there anymore.

"What's wrong Billy?" Cestria asked again, her voice barely a whisper.

"…Something just doesn't…feel right," Billy began explaining, but was interrupted by a sound.

Tap-tap-tap.

A quick glance to Cestria informed Billy she had heard it too, and both turned their gaze to the great circular window. On instinct, they both took a step back, astonished at the sight presented before them.

A figure in white was staring right back at them, seemingly floating-the sand was a good four feet below the bottom of the window, and this figure was standing dead centre of the window. To add to the perplexity, it was as though the water had little to no effect on the figure. Billy noticed a few strands of seaweed extending up from the surface swaying in the current.

The same could not be said for the long coat the figure, bizarrely, was wearing.

"Who is that..?" Cestria whispered, already taking a step back from the window. Billy instinctively put himself between Cestria and the window, hands finding themselves in an old yet oh so familiar fighting stance before he even realized it.

That vanished the moment he spotted what was floating in the figure's open hand.

"What…?"

Billy's stance drooped, as Cestria looking from Billy to the strange figure standing beyond the window.

"I thought you said the Ninjetti Power Coins were destroyed."

Billy kept his eye on the figure floating eerily still outside their home, even as he replied to Cestria.

"They were…"

But even he couldn't deny the gold Power Coin floating just above the figure's open palm; the engraved imaging of a howling wolf catching the light generated from within their home. The former Power Ranger swallowed a lump in his throat he hadn't realized sooner was there.

Cestria crept closer, shifting a bit closer to Billy. For her own comfort or for Billy's, he couldn't decipher which. But her presence certainly helped him.

"Is he...going to move?" Cestria whispered, as if speaking too loudly would draw the figure's attention.

There was, however, something else seemingly listening to her.

There was a brief crackle, and suddenly all the lights in the home suddenly dimmed. Cestria let out a sudden gasp, as Billy quickly shifted into action. Putting himself between Cestria, and wherever the threat may be coming from. Hands were raised defensively, recalling moves and stances from all the way back to his first lessons with Jason in the Juice Bar. Constantly moving, not entirely trusting his eyes-or glasses-in the dimmed lighting.

But as quickly as the lights had flickered, they were back on again. Nothing seemed amiss, nothing out of place. Billy tried to relax even slightly.

That vanished just as quickly when he noticed where the figure was now.

He wasn't outside the window anymore. He was inside.

"I hope you don't mind the intrusion," Zeta breezed, brushing one of his sleeves down. Billy briefly glanced down, and was puzzled by the lack of puddles forming at the figure's feet. Not a drop clung to his cloak, leaving him dry to the bone.

"Who are you? What do you want?! Billy demanded, hands and feet slowly shifting from a defensive stance, ready to go on the attack if necessary.

Zeta turned his eyes to Billy, and almost immediately, felt a shiver rush up and down his spine. Every one of his hairs stood up on end as he felt an overwhelming sense of...power wash over him. The last time he remembered something this intense was when he and the others were first handpicked by Zordon, all those years ago.

Only this felt...so much darker.

"There's work to be done, Cranston. The Pack must be at full strength. The Lost Wolf must come home."