All characters, original concepts, canon names/traits/occurrences, basic plots, and such other objectives of this story not specifically labeled as otherwise belong to Jetix, Disney, and several individuals of which I am simply too flat out lazy to write the names of because quite frankly it's just too long a list. Certain aspects of this story do not belong to them, however, including general theories as to the nature of Mandarin's leaving the team and all that rot, and the portrayal of the characters, including fan-created scenarios of the past. Those things are mine, and no one else's. I advise against any legal action taken against me for the content of this fanfiction, as I'm relatively impoverished what with being an in-debt college student. You really won't get all that much.

Well. I've finally decided the timeline of this story. Like many people, I'm sure, I have decided to cop out somewhat, and make this a personal portrayal of the Fifth Season That May Never Be. In other words, this story is meant to happen after the fourth season finale. Hey, it was either that or make it an Alternate Universe, and there are dozens of those. I wanted to at least have the story resemble something almost unique.

That, and I really suck at making up whole universes.

I'm very lazy, you see.

But, as this is meant to take place after all the aired seasons, there will more than likely be spoilers and lots of them, as I work more and more of the past adventures of our hero(es) into the story. This will probably be the only warning I give to you, my readers, which means that this chapter is the gateway to the future of this story through your eyes.

Are you going to let a little thing like knowledge stand in your way?

...my goodness, I actually sounded intelligent for a moment there.

On that note though, there also may be left out episode adventures due to the fact that I haven't seen all four seasons, and some of the time I didn't get to see whole episodes when I did manage to catch the show. If there's a particular episode which you feel is being ignored horribly, or I manage to take something out of context, or I even manage to get something horribly wrong, please do not hesitate to drop me a line and voice your concerns. I'm a very nice person and I like input.

And the last warning I have to leave you with: as of this point in time, this story has no planned romance or romantic themes of any sort whatsoever, save that which is outright canon and therefore commonplace. I want you to know, however, that there is a strong emphasis on the relationships between all the characters, both friend, foe, and otherwise. Outright romance as of yet however, is not happening. Sorry. XP

So. I think that gets most of the warnings out of the way. I may pop out more, or repeat some, in the future. But for now, I think you're relatively safe.


An Unannounced Homecoming
You're Not Going Anywhere


For a long moment, he was very nearly aware of the sensation of falling. A sudden flash of something that he might have almost mistaken for light enlightened him to the fact that he was alert. Though his mind was never remarkably fast, he quickly became frustrated at the realization that its efforts in attempting to discern his current physical status and whereabouts were incredibly sluggish. The flash came again, across the corner of what he was relatively sure was his line of vision, before he noticed that he couldn't see or sense anything save a murky, disorienting feeling of pitch black. Fanged teeth gritted, he was pleased to feel that much, and the receding numbness made him more willing to fight the lack of response his body seemed content to continue. On a sudden mental revelation, he attempted to curl his fingers into a fist and was sorely disappointed when he felt the command being completely disregarded.

"I think he's coming to."

His teeth ground together as he strained his mind to recognize the sleep-fogged voice, finding that he only gained a vicious pounding in the back of his head for his trouble. He felt his head tilt back, and tried to conclude as to whether the action was his own or the product of outside influence. A snarl rose in his throat, but he found himself choking on it and began to struggle, suddenly knowing that someone was mentally attempting to push him back into the darkness he was clawing out of.

"I can't hold him! Team, restrain him! Chiro, with me!" The urgency in the words would have made him smile, but he was too preoccupied with the sudden added pressure of hands slamming down onto his limbs, arms and legs he was almost instantly aware of and endeavoring to use as weapons. "Chiro!"

"I'm trying! I'm trying!"

"He is regaining consciousness at an alarming rate." The hard calm in that voice made a very real growl tear itself loose from his throat, its presence fueling the battle and he strained ever harder to break free. "He's already managed to recover over thirty percent of his motor skills—"

"We can see that, Gibson! Just give him the shot—guh!"

A foot caught soft flesh and he acted completely on instinct, slamming the appendage forward again. He was rewarded by another cry of pain and the sudden absence of anyone holding down his left leg. Using it as leverage, he attempted to push himself up off of the table. Around him, several figures scrambled, and he suddenly realized his eyes were open and that they were being blinded by a light overhead. He turned his face away, squinting through the flashing spots in his vision and was able to make out two figures, one much taller than the other, on either side of his face, hands outstretched and obviously concentrating intently. He sneered and heaved upward, but his arms were pinned under heavy weight and he couldn't angle his neck well enough to view the culprit.

"Straps! Activate the straps!"

Out of nowhere, his body was suddenly slammed flat, and he let an inhuman roar rip out of the base of his chest, thrashing against the new restrictions. Many a head was going to roll when he gained his freedom, he would see to that, oh yes. Steel fingers grabbed him by his shoulders and shoved him down as far as possible, the new restraints clicking loudly as they locked into place to hold him. He swung his head to and fro, attempting to gain enough leverage to use his teeth since his physical armory was becoming more diminished by the second, when he sensed a dreary fog in his mind pressing down on him.

He lashed out immediately.

"Gah!"

"Chiro, concentrate!" The voice again, he knew that voice, knew all the voices, and found himself angrier than ever. They were attacking his mind, trying to subdue him! His fangs ground against each other as he strained, screeching in a language that he knew without memory, a native tongue he had learned possibly before he was even born. He was not about to let himself be conquered, not without taking someone with him. "Gibson! Where is that serum? We can't hold him under for much longer!"

"I'm coming! But I don't know the proper dosage!" Hurried. They were panicked. He grunted in satisfaction and this time felt the pull of the corners of his mouth moving to smirk. He was winning! "He's too heavily damaged to filter out the excess—"

"Just put it in him before he wakes up!" Deeper, a person who hadn't spoken before and he felt a splitting headache forming in the back of his head.

It would be easier, a soft voice in the recesses of his mind chided him, and for a moment, he was lulled by the sound. It was almost a lullaby, soothing and serene and perhaps if he angled his head back a little more, and closed his eyes even, he would hear it better. It would be easier to sleep.

"No!" The sound of his own voice jolted his senses and suddenly Mandarin was alert once more. His dark eyes snapped open fully and he bellowed again. "Unhand me!"

He felt the automatic flinch from everyone in the room rather than saw it, but when he attempted to make use of the seconds-long advantage, more hands were suddenly pushing him down, trying to pin him so that he would stay still. More shouts were garbled in the sound of blood rushing through his ears and Mandarin snarled at his captors, cursing their existence.

"Gisbon! Hurry up!"

"I've got it!"

Mandarin narrowed in on the three words and heaved his entire left side upward, titling away from the sound to shake the grip of those holding him, and was rewarded with the sound of the mechanism holding the belts in place cracking, and the one wrapped around his arm splintering suddenly under the pressure.

Without stopping to think, he swiped.

"NO!"

The joint scream was enough to make his heart sing as cool glass connected with his metal arm, knocking it away from grabbing hands. The following shatter almost made him relax.

"Gibson! Another vial, hurry!"

"I can't! If I let go—Otto, help Nova!"

"I don't need help!" A female! Mandarin locked his eyes upward, and caught a glimpse of blazing yellow and grimaced at some distant, fleeting memory. Then he froze, blinking hard beneath the bright light above as he tried to focus. Around him, the group of voices that had been shouting earlier lapsed into shocked silence, still pinning him down, but staring at the look of growing fury spreading across the orange-furred face.

"You idiotic...pathetic excuses for primates, get off of me this instant!"

He was sorely displeased when the only one who obeyed his demand was the simple-minded mechanic, and even that result was obviously derived from surprise rather than the desire to follow orders. The wound to his pride was shoved aside for the moment, but not forgotten, as Mandarin scowled at his fellow robot monkeys. Their disloyalty was not something he enjoyed waking up to. He assessed the situation in the moment of stunned compliance, and was unsure as to whether or not he liked what he saw. He was in the medical bay, that much he had expected when he'd collapsed, but awakening to find that he had yet to undergo repairs, and that his uplink to the Super Robot's information database was still severed, was not something he had foreseen in his insightful prediction. Less that they would be shocked that he expected them to obey without question as he always had.

Then he noticed something.

Three somethings to be exact.

First, that two people were most definitely not supposed to be present, and he focused his attention on them immediately, narrowing the eyes he now realized were naked of their protective lenses and still swimming with glancing bubbles of inverted light as they attempted to adjust.

His measuring gaze went over the creature nearest to him, a gleaming thing shaped very much like he was, in the most admiral form of a tailed simian family member. It took a slow moment for him to piece together that this creature was silver, made of silver, and as soon as the word came to mind, several glimpses and fragmented bits of information zoomed through his thoughts, revealing to him in a haphazard method that the creature was entirely robotic and coated with an extremely durable coating of armor comprised mostly of a metallic, alchemical mixture of aforementioned silver, crushed diamonds, assorted alloys, and magic. Not bothering to question how he knew this—having mentally chalked it up to his faulty uplink with the Super Robot they called both weapon and base of operations—Mandarin turned his head to the other intruder and was mildly shocked.

A child.

A human child.

An indignant squawk rose in his throat, forcing him to swallow hard to conceal his discomfort and he stared at the adolescent. Blue eyes stared back piercingly, obstructed at points by wild, pitch black hair which most certainly defied any semblance of gravity. Something about this hairless monkey twisted Mandarin's stomach, setting off warning bells in the back of his head. This juvenile was somehow making him uneasy, bringing on fractured images of battles and fear, throbbing terror of something without form or name.

Coward! Do you shrink back from the sight of a bald stripling? A human babe frightens you? He growled at himself and the technologically-altered monkeys around him stiffened, the two closest to the boy slightly shifting their stance as if they meant to ease themselves between Mandarin and the human. It was a moment before Mandarin realized they meant to protect the young teen from his wrath, and though he was half-amused by the idea, the stance the adolescent instinctively adopted squashed the pleasant feeling of superiority.

The boy stood as one who had seen battle. He was a wiry, lean creature who couldn't possibly be any older than fourteen or so, far too early in his years to have served in any military Mandarin was familiar with, and if he remembered correctly the planet his team had formed their base of operations on had few politics and only one massive economic center that had thrived on the surface, thus there had never been an established armed force upon the planet beyond small, localized officers meant to be general police. Even they rarely carried more than defensive, blunt weapons. This child's face was hardened, comprehensive. It had known pain and loss both, and had striven to ensure that it would have no repeated experiences.

It knew leadership.

Mandarin's eyes narrowed, and his suspicions festered.

A moment passed and he felt a sharp nagging at the back of his skull. His eyes searched the room, and for a sparse second or more, he was not at all certain of what he was looking for. Then it came crashing down on him and he quickly made a headcount.

Second thing he noticed.

Missing. Missing! Where?

"Antauri!" He lurched forward, and to his right there was a startled jump on the part of the unknown silver monkey. "Where is Antauri?"

Pain ricocheted throughout his arms as he huffed and heaved himself up from the table, very much aware of the tense silence surrounding his defiant refusal to remain prone on a medical table. The child and robotic monkey were the most uncomfortable, which Mandarin generously attributed to simple awe at their inexperience of his presence. What had stricken his underlings so completely voiceless was currently beyond his capacity to understand. A scrutinizing glare passed from one subordinate to the next, finding each refusal to answer more infuriating than the last. By the time his gaze fell on the incredibly quiet mechanic at his leftmost corner, nearest his foot, Mandarin was practically livid.

"Well? Is there no functional tongue among the lot of you? You knew no restraints with your shouting earlier!" He snapped, becoming more impatient with each second.

The green monkey's stare didn't waver, something that managed to unnerve the injured Mandarin more than any other strange thing he had witnessed in the last very short span of time since his awakening. A grim line was set on the white flesh of Otto's muzzle, and creases had appeared in the skin and fur where the second youngest team member's heavy metallic brow was sinking downward in a growing frown. He had never known the normally cheerful creature to look so utterly...serious. Mandarin forced himself to not look away.

"Antauri's standing right there." The answer came at last, from the crimson-furred pilot who was rubbing his stomach somewhat vigorously, a dark bruise already visible amid the pale skin and fur of his abdomen.

Mandarin looked without turning his head, more out of habit than anything.

"Do not presume to make a fool of me, SPRX-77. That is not Antauri." The orange monkey huffed, angered by what he took to be another fumbling attempt at humor on his brother's part. The silver monkey's optic lights switched into a thick line several times to simulate the action of blinking, which somehow managed to bother the still partially-prone leader. His confusion was steadily mounting, and the rapid increase of frustration was inhibiting his ability to think. A pulsing knot of something right on the verge of his senses demanded attention and where was his damned second-in-command when he was summoned?

"Why you-!" SPRX-77 snarled, bearing gritted teeth at the now furious simian on the table. Both males bristled, but almost as suddenly as he had challenged Mandarin, the team's lead aeronaut backed down, his eyes focused on the child at the older monkey's side.

His peripheral vision snapped about, and he caught the last bit of an orange glove falling. The boy, without a word, had asked, commanded, one of the Monkey Team members to stand down. And Sprx, both the worst and best example of insubordination among the six of them, had obeyed. Without question no less, a feat of monumental proportions if Mandarin had ever witnessed such a thing in all his years. The sight twisted something buried deep within his stomach and he scowled at the young human, ready to tell him exactly what he thought of a child attempting to reign command over his Hyperforce.

"He speaks the truth, Mandarin."

Mandarin's fur did not simply bristle this time. It stood on end, leaving the orange monkey looking very much like a puffed feline or some sort or another. His eyes snapped over to the silver monkey, which was speaking, speaking to him, with Antauri's voice no less. It was impossible. It made no sense.

"I am indeed Antauri." Twin blue optics blinked again, and there was a silence that did not sit particularly well in the prone monkey's stomach. The silver mimicry of a simian form was staring at him with all the qualities of his second-in-command, the mystic he knew as the eldest of his team besides himself, but somehow Mandarin could not bring his mind to grasp the idea. This walking creation of metal and precious materials was not Antauri. Could not be Antauri.

And yet.

Something nagging at the back of Mandarin's mind told him, without a doubt, that this was his highest subordinate, the (once) only other monkey on the team who retained an almost total amount of his original organic structure.

"How...how–?"

This could not be! Even as he stood with the sheer amount of visual and instinctual evidence before him, Mandarin could only repeat over and over in his mind that this strange transformation held no logical basis, that there was no explanation for something so ludicrous as Antauri suddenly being made of metal and yet he was and how could this have happened?

Then Sprx's fist connected with the left side of Mandarin's face.

The ability to hear took a few moments to resurface, but Mandarin knew the signs of screaming rage from lip movements alone. When his sole functioning earpiece was able to process sound waves again, he could hear the struggle of metal scraping against metal as Nova and Gibson attempted to hold Sprx back from the table, and the angry ranting of the pilot as he sputtered in rage and clawed at his fellow teammates for the freedom to strike again.A snarl crossed Mandarin's face then as it sank in that Sprx had dared attempt to challenge his right to lead in that moment, and he pushed himself up. His cheek gave a series of sharp stings as his face contorted wrathfully, but he ignored it, as he ignored the sudden gasps of the child and Antauri while he pulled himself up to attack the insolent little beast he called brother.

He was in mid-leap when Otto collided with his chest and sent them both tumbling across the surface of the medical slab and a good eight feet along the tiled floor. How he ended up with the slightly heavier mechanic seated on his back with his arms pinned to his sides, Mandarin wasn't exactly sure, but he was very displeased, and he jerked his glowering expression upward so that he could inform his brother of the several horrible things that were going to happen when he got up. He stopped before he spoke however, because there was something very wrong.

Otto looked as displeased as Mandarin felt.

He looked...furious.

"Stay down."

The voice was that of the second youngest Monkey Team member, there could be no mistake made there. Yet, it did not entirely sound like Otto. Otto was thoroughly incapable of the jagged force those words held, and rage was beyond the green monkey's narrow range of emotions.

That was the third thing he'd noticed.

Something was very, very wrong.


I wonder if anyone can see the plot that's going to be put into motion off of this chapter. Probably not. Although you might be able to point out a key element or two based off of what happened.

Still, if you want to make a guess, feel free.

Also, since I didn't say it at the beginning, I'd like to say it now: thank you very much to the lovely reviewers for the first chapter. Reviews giving me a warm feeling in my tummy, like fresh cookies on the first day of school or maybe just chocolate cake. Chocolate cake is delicious, you know. So very delicious.

Hugs, luffles, and chocolate truffles,

Nam