Summary: The Dino Gems choosing their owners, but what if the people who owned the Gems weren't who the Rangers were supposed to be?
Dedicated to Arrow, happy birthday!
The ball was coming right for him.
Conner positioned his foot, the ball connected, he kicked, and the ball arced neatly across the field, soaring over the heads of the coach and the coach's assistant, and then it was nothing but net. Very few goalies had the power to stop Conner McKnight on a good day.
"Yeah," he laughed to himself, but restrained from executing the victorious fist pump, because he realized that the coach was now watching him, and he didn't want to appear too cocky.
"Skills, bro!" enthused the tall black man next to him, raising his hand for a high five. Conner accepted the gesture, because it was one thing to be cocky, and it was another thing to leave a dude hanging.
He glanced over to see how Derrick was doing. Derrick was the only person at tryouts that Conner knew; at least, the only person from RHS. Conner did recognize a few guys from opposing teams that Reefside had crushed in finals: Steve Bergen from Stone Canyon, Michael Beecher from Sunset Cape, Eddie Donaldson from Silver Hills. Beecher was a goalie, Donaldson was defense. Bergen was fast, but his kicks strayed a quarter of the time. Which left Conner free to focus on the people that he didn't know. Older guys from club teams, for the most part. Slightly more intimidating than the high school hacks he usually went up against. Conner was up for the challenge.
It looked like Derrick was, too. He'd never seen his teammate play so well before. Conner liked the popularity and the scores of admiring girls that came with being a soccer star, but the reason he was so up on his game was because he honestly loved the sport. He liked watching it, he liked thinking about it, and he loved playing it. Derrick, in Conner's experience, had always been just as much into the popularity and power part that came with a good game. Frankly, Conner had never suspected that his friend loved the sport like he did. He was a little relieved to see Derrick go all out, pulling out some excellent defensive moves against the competition.
Of course, this was good news for Conner, too. He and Derrick had always worked well together and it didn't hurt to have a teammate who already knew how to anticipate his moves.
"All right!" the coach yelled. "Let's kick it up!"
Conner wiped his hair from his forehead and laughed through his sweat. He was only getting started.
Devin gave one last suck at the straw, until the glass was so empty of excess smoothie it was practically clean and new. He acknowledge the stares from the disgusted couple at the table next to him with an embarrassed smile and returned his attention to the Cyberspace laptop. He couldn't think of the last time he'd been online, leisurely checking his email without Cassidy next to him. The silence was sort of nice, but his inbox was empty and he was a little bored. He was just about to start a round of Detonation Man when his bracelet beeped.
Taking a quick look around to see if anyone was watching, Devin ducked into the alcove that gave the Cyberspace its kitschy charm. Fortunately, the other patrons found straw-sucking far more irritating than weird beeps, so no one was paying him any attention. "Dr. Oliver, you've got Devin," he answered.
"Devin, we've got trouble down at the end of Riverside Road. Tyrannodrones."
Devin checked his watch out of habit, as though it could tell him exactly how long it'd take him to get there. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he promised.
"You might need the others as backup," Dr. Oliver warned. But then the communication cut out, and Devin headed for the door, waving to Hayley as he hurried.
Coach Robert Beckman had been with the Waves over a decade, and had seen a number of rising stars. There were players with ego but no skill, and skill enough, yet without any ambition. But he'd never seen anyone quite like the kid in the red uniform who was playing like he thought he was in the World Cup. He scored a number of goals, but never hogged the ball. He recognized the give-and-take nature of the game, which only served to make him even more of a superstar player when given the chance to shine.
"Who is that kid?" he asked his assistant coach, Damian.
Damian didn't even need Robert to point the kid out in order to answer. "That's Conner McKnight. He's still in high school. Plays on the local club team."
"High school?" He'd be the youngest player on the Waves since Alex joined three years ago, nineteen, from the community college. Robert could probably fit McKnight on as a reserve player. He watched McKnight score another goal effortlessly, and thought it'd be worth the trouble that came with parental involvement to get the kid's skills.
Damian shrugged. "The guy's reputation precedes him, what can I say. Made varsity as a freshman. If there's any kid trying out with a chance to go pro, hell, if there's anyone already on the Waves with a chance to go pro, McKnight's it."
"I'll keep that in mind," Robert said dryly, but he was glad for Damian's assessment. The man was nothing if not honest and Robert had always trusted his judgment. "Any other high school kids I should worry about?"
Damian checked his clipboard and pointed out the husky kid currently blocking Jones, Robert's star player, preventing him from getting anywhere near the net. "That's Derrick Cole, also on the RHS team. Great defense, works well with McKnight."
Robert studied Cole. He was fast, but not fast enough, but he did have strength and intimidation going for him. Unlike McKnight, he seemed to realize this was a tryout, and Robert could see him calculating every move, even as he gave McKnight a high five for a job well done. "They're not a package deal, are they?" he said.
"No."
"Good." He was running a soccer team, not happy hour at some teen hangout. Then he was forced to blurt, "Where's he going?" Cole was taking off running for the edge of the field. "Where're you going?" Robert demanded in a shout.
"I'll be back as soon as I can!" Cole shot over his shoulder.
If there was anything Robert refused to tolerate, it was a lack of commitment. Never taking his eyes off Cole's retreating back, he muttered to Damian, "Cross him off the list."
Krista was usually supernaturally focused, so it was of great amusement to the members of the Horticulture Society and of great embarrassment to Krista when their teen chair got caught unawares during yet another fund-raising discussion.
"Krista?" Fawn Lewis asked, her rough voice luring Krista away from pleasant thoughts about Trent-from-the-Cyberspace's nervous smile.
"What?"
Fawn smirked, as though Krista's distraction was the perfect example of the uselessness of teenagers, and why Fawn was so much better suited to being chairperson. "I was just wondering if you'd like to weigh in on the fundraiser. Have you finished your baking?"
Krista bristled. "Yes." She always felt like Fawn was setting her up for a colossal fall; Fawn no doubt knew that Krista wasn't exactly a pastry chef, and even her from-the-box chocolate chip cookies rarely got sold.
"But actually, Fawn, I've been thinking about the upcoming rally. You know, the one to stop Anton Mercer Industries from polluting the lake? I've been working on getting the support of Reefside High's science department, not to mention the backing of a popular local business."
Fawn raised an eyebrow, looking around at some of the other members dubiously. "No offense, Krista, we find your initiative impressive, but a few high school teachers isn't exactly the backing we need to make a difference."
Some of the members were nodding in agreement with Fawn, and Krista struggled to maintain her cool. For someone who liked to think of Krista's age as a weakness, Fawn was certainly playing the Society meeting like a high school popularity contest. "Every little bit helps," she reminded the Society. "But don't worry. I have a plan to can guarantee turnout and donations," she said, playing her trump card in a furious attempt to wipe that smile off Fawn's face.
"How so?" Elizabeth, the treasurer, asked eagerly.
"I've arranged for a celebrity sponsor," Krista said smugly.
Fawn looked like she didn't believe a word of this. "Oh yeah? Who?"
"One of the Power Rangers," Krista said, lifting her chin in proud defiance, aware that all eyes were now on her. "All of them, schedules permitting."
"Please," scoffed Fawn. "As if the Power Rangers don't have more important things to do."
Krista grinned at the word slip. "Why Fawn, are you suggesting the Horticulture Society isn't 'important'?"
And now all eyes were on Fawn. Krista tried to withhold her triumphant smirk and succeeded only barely.
"Of course not," Fawn faltered.
"The Rangers and the Society have similar goals," Krista said with an excess of calm authority. "They just go about them in slightly different ways."
"Uh, yes, I suppose so." Fawn coughed, flashing Krista an insincere and unconvincing smile. "You know, it's very impressive that you've managed to do this, Krista." Fawn flashed her an insincere smile. "What's your secret?"
Krista smiled. "Connections."
She suddenly found herself very much in the favor of Fawn's little posse of Society members. So naturally, this was when her bracelet decided to beep. She flashed them a tight smile, clapping her hand over the sleeve hiding her jewelry before it decided to give her away further, and said, "And it looks like I'm in high demand today. I hope you'll excuse me." She got up and darted out of the room before anyone had the opportunity to object to her exit, or notice that she wasn't carrying any sort of cell phone.
"This is Krista, and you could have picked a more opportune time," she chastised.
"Uh, yeah, I'm on Riverside Road right now, and I could really use with a little," Devin grunted sharply and she thought she heard a growl in the background, "uh, assistance."
Krista let out a long sigh. "All right. I'm on my way."
At the end of Riverside Road, Devin's eyes glowed bright red as he used his powers to sweep down a line of angry Tyrannodrones.
"Looks like you got this under control," said Derrick irritably. No sooner had the words left his mouth than a drone popped up behind him and knocked him to the ground. "Oof. Never mind. A little warning would've been nice," he snapped at Krista as he got himself to his feet without any help from his teammates. He activated his powers and charged angrily into the drone that had taken him down.
"I'm sort of busy, Derrick," Krista managed to get out, before wedging one of her spikes into the shoulder area of a drone and getting it stuck there. "Ugh!" she said, pushing her foot against its chest to gain some leverage as she pulled herself free.
"Maybe we should morph?" Devin suggested. The words felt awkwardly thick on his tongue; he still wasn't used to his option of doing that, or his option of saying that to others.
"Yeah," Derrick agreed quickly. "It'll get rid of these goons that much faster."
The goons were closing in, surrounding the Rangers in a circle. It was a smarter move than Devin would've thought they were capable of, but who only knew what went on in the drones' heads. "Uh, guys?" said Krista.
"We should definitely morph," Devin said. "Ready?"
"Ready," they agreed, although Derrick sounded way too angry about it.
"Dino Thunder, power up!"
Being morphed gave them an advantage, extra speed and strength, but it didn't stop Devin from being tired as he punched, kicked, and fought his way through the thick crowd of Tyrannodrones. He was beginning to suspect something was wrong; there were too many of them and they were way too intent on attacking him ceaselessly.
Then he realized it was a distraction. The creepy guy who'd brought out the BioZords was coming out of the woods with a woman who wore a lot of leather. "Power Rangers," she snapped disdainfully. "I know you're hiding them. I just don't know how."
"Huh?" said Krista.
"Hiding what?" said Devin.
"Whatever," said Derrick, shoving himself into a drone and using sheer force to bowl several of them over. He jabbed a spandexed finger in the direction of the villains. "You know, you guys should really work on your timing≈" he began, but never got to finish, because a green portal opened in the space between the tops of their heads and the forest ceiling above, sucking up the creepy guy, the leather woman, and all of the Tyrannodrones.
"What was that all about?" Devin wondered.
Derrick de-morphed in an instant. "Who cares? It's done, and now we can get back to our real lives." Just like that, he was taking off.
"He is so self-centered," Krista complained. "As though the rest of us didn't have important things we were doing."
"Yeah, sure," said Devin, watching the space where the other guys had disappeared, lost in thought.
"Derrick Cole," the coach pronounced when Derrick returned, panting, to the field. The rest of the players had disbanded, although he caught sight of a few people straggling down by the net, drinking water and mopping themselves up. Derrick turned his back and pretended not to notice them. "I have you down as a DNF," said the coach, and before Derrick could ask, he elaborated, "Did Not Finish."
"Uh, yeah, and I can explain that," Derrick began, but trailed off in the face of the coach's expectant stare when he realized he didn't have a leg to stand on. What could he say? Dr. Oliver had made a point of emphasizing the whole 'secret identity' business, after all. Not that Derrick was dumb enough to blurt out the secret, but now more than ever, he wished he could. "I had, uh, personal problems."
"Personal problems," the coach said flatly.
"Yeah." Derrick shifted. He was going to kill Devin and Krista. He didn't even need special powers, he was going to use his own bare hands.
"I see. Mr. Cole," he began, and Derrick's heart sank, because nothing good ever came from a statement starting with 'Mr. your-last-name-here,' "you walked out on us. How are you supposed to earn the trust of myself and your teammates during a game, when we can't even count on your presence during a tryout?"
"I understand that, sir," Derrick faltered. He'd never called anyone 'sir' before, but thought the circumstances warranted it. "But it won't happen again, I promise."
"Mr. Cole, I need my players to demonstrate one hundred percent commitment to soccer, and to the Waves. Can you do that?"
"There's nothing more important to me than soccer," Derrick said. Well, except maybe girls.
"Judging from today's example, I can't believe that."
Derrick felt a burst of anger and couldn't control it. "Oh, come on. It was one day. Like you're really going to base your entire decision on a few crappy hours of tryout?"
But the coach was already getting up, shouldering his packed bag, and heading towards the parking lot. Derrick restrained a scream and settled for yanking a clump of grass and dirt out of the field with his cleats. A hand clamped down on his shoulder. "Man, what was that all about?" asked Conner. "Where'd you go, dude?"
"I had a problem I had to deal with," Derrick said bitterly.
"Dude. Not cool. It's the Waves. As if anything else compares. This is the ticket to going pro, dude!"
There were times when Derrick wanted to punch each and every 'dude' right out of Conner's stupid mouth. This was one of those times. Conner was oblivious, however, to Derrick's curling fists.
"Whatever," Derrick dismissed, trying to play it cool. "It's not like the coach was making his final decision today or anything."
"Um." Conner was chewing on his lower lip, looking unusually embarrassed. "Uh, for some of us, he was."
"No. Freaking. Way."
Conner obviously couldn't help grinning. "Dude. I made the team."
"Oh," said Derrick. "Uh. Good for you." He found himself suddenly wishing the tyranno-whatevers would come back so he could pound the prehistoric pulp out of them.
"Yo, McKnight," someone called over from the group congregating at the net. "We're heading out. You coming with?"
"Yeah, J.J., just hang on a sec," Conner yelled back.
"J.J. Jones?" Derrick said, completely not surprised that Conner was already making buddies with the best soccer forward in the state of California, while Derrick was standing around with no soccer future.
"Yeah, nice guy," said Conner. He suddenly looked down at Derrick in a rare bout of utter seriousness. "Listen, man, are we cool? You and me?"
"Sure, whatever," shrugged Derrick.
"All right, cool." Just like that, their touching moment of near-brotherhood was gone. "See you at school on Monday, dude," he said, then jogged off to join his new friends.
While he stared after them, something whacked against Derrick's shin. He looked down, it was a little soccer ball. The only person around it could have belonged to was a little girl with pigtails and a gap-toothed smile. "Kick it!" she said.
Derrick gave it a nudge with his cleat and it rolled a few inches away from him. He gave it a real kick, soft but strong, and the girl stopped it, still grinning. Great, Derrick thought, while Conner was off becoming the next Pele, Derrick was doomed to running drills with eight-year-olds.
He had to talk to Dr. Oliver.
Devin parked his scooter in front of Hayley's Cyberspace, tucked his helmet in the back, and steeled himself for going inside. After the battle, Derrick had high-tailed it out of there so quickly it had prompted Krista to rant to Devin for twenty minutes about how Derrick had no sense of commitment or responsibility. Then she'd all but demanded he meet her at Hayley's.
When he got inside, he could see why. Krista appeared to be in the middle of dictating an ridiculously large drink order to Trent.
"And what's in the Wildberry at Heart?" she was asking as Devin approached the table.
"Hey, man," Devin greeted the beleaguered busboy.
Trent smiled, but genuinely, even though it was obvious he was tired. "Hey. Devin, right?"
"Yeah."
"Tre-ent," Krista prompted him.
"Right," said Trent, returning her attention to her. "Um, the Wildberry at Heart. It has, uh, all kinds of berries," he began, and started to turn his head to the bar. Krista snapped her fingers to redirect his gaze. Devin realized she was quizzing Trent on the menu and all of Hayley's wacky drink combinations. He wondered how she'd learned it so quickly; Devin had been coming here awhile and didn't even know the whole thing.
"What kinds of berries?" she asked.
"All kinds?" he offered, punctuating it with a helpless sort of grin.
"Trent."
"All right. Um, blueberry, strawberry... raspberry?"
"And..?"
"Oh! And blackberry for some tang," he recited.
"Good," she praised.
Trent grinned at Devin. "This is tough," he said. "I really think it'd work better with a taste-test."
Krista smiled. Devin almost choked; Krista was usually so serious he hadn't thought she was capable of smiling. "Not on my salary," she said. "And not on yours, either."
"Well, I am trying to move up in the cutthroat world of smoothie peddling. But to do that, first I should probably do my actual job. I've gotta get back to work. Thanks for the tutorial, Krista."
"Anytime," she said, almost warmly.
"I'll drop by later," he promised, and disappeared into the crowd of people clamoring at the bar.
"So what's up?" Devin asked.
"I don't know," she shrugged. "I think we're working towards a good place, but it's really too soon to tell."
"Uh," said Devin, "that's nice, I guess, but it wasn't what I meant. You called me here to talk about something?"
Krista suddenly blushed furiously and Devin realized she hadn't meant to let him see any of the previous exchange. Devin pretended the tabletop was particularly fascinating until she recovered and said, "Oh, right. You're going to be making an appearance at the anti-pollution rally next week."
"Oh. Okay. Well, I mean, I was already gonna go≈"
"Not you," she said. "The Red Ranger. And the Yellow Ranger, of course. I didn't bother asking Derrick, he'd probably just pee on a tree, or something disgusting like that. He shouldn't be allowed out in public."
"Krista?" Devin said, trying to get her to backtrack her thoughts. "We talked about this, I don't think it's a good idea for the Rangers to be≈"
"We didn't talk about this, you talked about this. You were wrong then and you're wrong now. Don't you care about the environment, Devin? Don't you care that the factory is plugging disgusting stuff into the lake? It used to be a pleasant place for a family to go for a picnic. Now it's a swamp. They need to be stopped. Water is two-thirds of our body composition, Devin."
"Krista, whoa, Krista," he said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture that had worked on Cassidy a number of times (although she had in once instance blared at him, "I'm not a horse, Devin, don't say whoa!"). "Uh, yeah, water, I got it. Look, I'm all for the Horticulture Society and its causes. I just don't think that this is the right... application of our Ranger powers."
Krista rolled her eyes. "Oh brother. I'm not asking you to scoop the goop out of the lake with your helmet," she said. "All you have to do is stand there in your shiny suit. I'll≈ I mean, the Yellow Ranger will do all the talking."
"That's great, but I finally talked Cass into doing a piece on it for the school news show," he said. "It's gonna be difficult for me to film it if I'm being the Red Ranger."
Krista frowned, clearly torn. Celebrity sponsorship, or media coverage? She decided on the best of both worlds, "All right, I guess just the Yellow Ranger will speak." She couldn't resist throwing in a side glare as though by letting her down, he was personally responsible for the destruction of the planet.
Devin was saved, so to speak, by Cassidy's timely arrival. Of course, he was no safer with either girl, because Cassidy was looking back and forth between him and Krista with a narrowed gaze of suspicion. "Krista," she said coolly.
"Hi, Cassidy. Devin tells me you're going to be doing a piece on next week's rally."
Cassidy rolled her eyes. "Yes."
"Well, thank you for your support. We can use the exposure." Krista gave Devin a pointed look and even went so far to kick him under the table, completely unnecessarily.
"Uh, yeah, Cass, good news. There's going to be a special guest. One of the Power Rangers," he said.
"Really?" she said, excitement flashing across her face before she went back to distrusting. "And how do you know that, exactly?"
"Krista was just telling me," he explained.
Krista smiled with a twinge of smugness. Devin was a little embarrassed for all three of them.
"Well, I just wanted to, uh, spread the word to Devin," said Krista, getting up from her seat. "But I need to be going. It was nice seeing you, Cassidy." She didn't sound sincere. Neither did Cassidy's reply, but Krista didn't seem to notice as she made her exit. Cassidy sank into the chair Krista had vacated.
"You're not dating Krista Stewart or anything, are you, Devin?" Cassidy demanded, looking both scandalized and offended. "She's so... creepy. And completely unpopular! I know she has that whole plant-loving thing like you do, but honestly, Devin, you could do a lot better. Maybe you can date one of the cheerleaders. How about Ella Underwood? She's sweet, I guess. She's got legs like tree trunks, but you like trees, so it's okay. Oh, wait, no, Derrick Cole dumped her back in August, I don't think she's over it yet."
"Cass," Devin tried periodically through her entire monologue, having flashbacks. "Cassidy. Cassidy. Cassidy!"
"What?" she demanded. She hated being interrupted.
"I'm not dating Krista. We were just talking about the rally."
"Oh. I see."
Gently, he said, "Cassidy, I'd tell you if I was dating someone. You'd be the first to know. Well, after me. And her, I guess. So third, third to know."
Devin smiled, but Cassidy was still frowning and flouncing. "Well, I should hope so." She flicked her hair over her shoulder. "After all, Devin, people look to me for new and interesting gossip."
He muttered his agreement, mind already jumping ahead. He'd gotten Cassidy off his trail for now, there was no way she suspected the truth. But how many fundraisers and 'school projects' could he lie about before Cassidy started a real investigation?
"Dr. Oliver, we need to talk," Derrick said fiercely when the teacher finally bothered to open his front door.
"Uh, yeah, Derrick, come on in." Dr. Oliver stepped out of the way to avoid getting run over by the soccer player... former soccer player, if this kept up. "Great timing. I was going to ask to borrow someone's morpher so I could do a scan. Mind if I use yours?"
"You can keep it," Derrick said, slipping out of the hideous bracelet and shoving it in Dr. Oliver's direction. "I'm giving it back."
"Derrick?"
"I'm done," Derrick elaborated. "No more of this crap. I got called out today to fight some dino-freaks and a weird dominatrix in the woods, and while I was gone, the coach was eliminating me."
"Dominatrix? Coach? Eliminating?" Dr. Oliver was holding the bracelet and looking utterly confused.
"Yeah. I was at a tryout for the Reefside Waves. The Waves. But no, I had to leave, and I couldn't even give an explanation why. I told him I had 'personal problems,' like I was going through some gross girl thing. And the coach said I have a problem with commitment and I could kiss my pro career goodbye!"
"Uh," said Dr. Oliver.
"Look, I know I said I'd be a Ranger. But it's messing up my life." Derrick glared at a helpless computer monitor and wished he had Devin's power so he could just blow it up. "I want to be a soccer player, Dr. Oliver. I'm good at it. I could make a career out of it. But I can't do that if I'm too busy doing this. I blew the best chance I'll ever have."
Dr. Oliver sighed, finally catching up with the conversation. "All right. I know how you feel." Derrick's skepticism must have been all over his face, because Dr. Oliver added, "Believe me. I've felt that way before. And I know I'm asking a lot of you. But. I want you to take some time to seriously consider this." He held the bracelet back out to Derrick.
Derrick just stared at it. "And if I still say no?"
"Then I was wrong."
That he didn't get. "Wrong about what?"
"About you."
Derrick frowned at the bracelet.
Trent Fernandez shuffled home after an excruciating day at work. No one had ever warned him that being a busboy could be so exhausting. Although he figured being a waiter, or at least, the Cyberspace's equivalent, wouldn't be much easier. But he liked the job and the boss well enough to want to move up in that world. Fortunately, he had Krista helping him out on that.
Trent blushed involuntarily, tossing his jacket in the closet and grateful for the cool shadows on his heated face. Krista was definitely one of the more interesting girls he'd ever met, let alone one of the more interesting people. She was incredibly intense and he got the impression that when she got something in her mind, she was singularly focused on her goal. He almost had the feeling he'd been made into one of her pet projects.
Still, Krista seemed perfectly normal compared to Devin's girlfriend. Trent couldn't figure out how such a mellow guy like Devin, who was on familiar terms with Hayley and friendly to everyone, had ended up with someone as brash and loud as the blonde who'd sat with him all afternoon. She'd snapped orders at Trent like he was her personal errand boy, while Devin kept casting him commiserating and apologetic glances.
"Dad?" Trent called out from the foyer. "Dad, I'm home." He was already formulating the half-truth he'd spit out if questioned on his whereabouts. His father had been acting cagey even a few months before the move to Reefside, and Trent knew he wouldn't be thrilled that Trent was taking a part-time job in some cafe, so Trent was going to keep that information confidential as long as he was able.
"Dad," Trent tried again, moving into the living room with still no answer. The house was quiet. Maybe his dad hadn't come home from work yet, or maybe he'd holed himself up in his office with the door closed. Trent knew his father didn't like being disturbed while he was working, but he hated worrying about Trent more. Trent traipsed up the staircase, figuring he'd just poke his head and announce his presence before heading off for a sandwich and a shower, not necessarily in that hour.
Trent raised his hand to rap on the office door, but as his knuckles made contact, he realized the door wasn't shut, but slightly ajar. It swung open slowly at his touch, and carefully, Trent poked his head in. "Hey, Dad, just wanted to..." But the office was empty, too.
"Shower it is," Trent shrugged, trying to repress the sigh trapped in his throat.
People took one look at the Mercer mansion and assumed Trent had an idyllic life. More often than not, though, he was lonely and bored. It was one of the reasons he'd taken the job at Hayley's Cyberspace, a way to fill his afternoons and maybe make some friends again.
He headed down the hall to the bathroom, pulling the office door all the way shut behind him. He never noticed the faint traces of green light coming from a corner of the room.
Elsa shifted uncomfortably, under scrutiny yet again for a blunder that wasn't entirely her fault.
"Please explain to me," Mesogog said in a fierce and fearsome growl, "how Dr. Oliver has managed to obtain the eggs that you, Elsa, claim to have been tracking."
"If I may, my lord," said Elsa, making up the words on the spot and feeling as foolishly daring as the high school students who tried to sway her with awful and obvious lies, "I have reason to believe that Dr. Oliver found the true eggs earlier, and planted false eggs with doctored energy signatures to lure us off the trail." The second the words were out of her mouth, she realized this was actually a viable solution. She met Mesogog's gaze evenly, daring him to contradict her now that she had confidence in her theory.
To her imminent relief, Mesogog seemed to buy it. Folding his arms behind his back, he began to pace and mutter. "I don't need to tell you the significance of his most recent acquisition," he said. "If Oliver trains those creatures, he will be able to use them against us. And that will be disastrous." Her master's voice was low with rage and hatred. "The time has come for Dr. Oliver to become a student instead of a teacher."
"Mm," Zeltrax simpered uselessly, nodding his empty head in agreement.
"Initiate the genome randomizer," Mesogog gave the command.
Elsa walked over to the machine and entered a command code for a creation she found interesting. "Entering DNA code," she announced. She had to announce the obvious; sometimes Zeltrax was even dumber than he looked.
"Engaging," Zeltrax followed up, flipping the switch. A yellow tube rose up with a black mass writhing inside of it.
Mesogog surveyed the experiment. "Excellent."
The door on the randomizer popped open, and a six-foot birdlike creature stumbled out, pointing its narrow beak around fiercely.
"Excellent," Zeltrax parroted his master's assessment. Elsa refrained from rolling her eyes; if Zeltrax was going to suck up, he could be a lot more original about it.
"Release it on Reefside," Mesogog commanded, settling into his throne smugly. "Lure the Rangers out, and then destroy them."