Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and ideas that are owned by others. Written for fun, not profit.

Rating: PG

Balance of Power

by Rummi


Chapter 2

The next morning went by in a bit of a blur – at least until lunch when Hank was finally able to meet up with the others. Later it occurred to him that the events of the previous evening, strange as they were, may have been a blessing in disguise: he had been so preoccupied with what he had seen on the news he'd hardly had time to give any thought to how strange it was to be back in school again. Had he had the chance to think about it, he might have worried about the lessons he'd forgotten or the homework he didn't remember finishing. However, having spent the entire morning with Venger on his mind, Hank was spared the stress of thinking about his return to school until it was nearly over. He managed to slide beneath the radar for most of his morning classes.

At lunch, he met with the others.

The weather was getting warmer so Hank headed outside to the school's courtyard with his lunch tray. Presto, Diana, Eric, and Sheila were already seated at a table that was a bit removed from everything else. As Hank approached, he saw that they had their heads together in deep conversation. Hank assumed, since they each had a class together at some point during the day, the others had already had the opportunity to touch base on the events of the previous evening. He was going to have to play catch-up. He felt sorry for Bobby, who went to school in the elementary center across campus and wouldn't be able to join them at all.

As Hank arrived at the table Eric turned, and Hank was taken aback slightly by the look on his face. Since last night, Hank had been uneasy over what he had seen on the television and what it could mean for them. He only assumed that the others were feeling just as apprehensive. And they probably were – except, apparently, for Eric, who sat at the lunch table grinning so broadly it looked like he'd won the lottery.

"Hey there!" Eric said happily, shoveling a forkful of his lunch into his mouth. "Beautiful day, huh?"

Hank noted the scornful look that Diana aimed at the Cavalier, although Eric seemed unfazed.

Hank slid into a seat beside Sheila and deposited his tray on the table.

"Do you think it was really him?" Presto asked him without preamble. He didn't need to explain; everyone knew what he was talking about.

Hank sighed heavily. "I don't know," he answered.

Eric rolled is eyes at Presto and looked irritated, though his smile never completely vanished. "Give me a break," he droned. "Of course it was him; who else would it be? You heard the news last night, right? Because if you didn't catch it all, I taped it." He sat back with a self-satisfied expression on his face. "Who says there's nothing good on TV these days!"

Hank cast him an annoyed look. "The important thing to do now is figure out what happened."

"What's to figure out?" Eric groaned. "I think it's pretty obvious what happened. What I don't understand is why we care. Hasn't Horn-Head thrown us into enough slave mines and volcano prisons since we had the severe misfortune of meeting the guy? Turnaround is fair play, you guys. So Venger cools his heals in the iron-bar motel for a while. He got off easy, if you ask me."

"Nobody did, Eric," Diana said curtly.

"Didn't that broadcast worry you?" Sheila asked him, crossing her arms on the table.

Eric snorted. "No," he said. "Are you kidding? I felt like breaking out the popcorn and watching the late news just so I could see it again."

"But what if it's a trick?" Diana pressed.

Eric threw up his hands and Hank got the impression that the others had been through this quite a bit before he joined them.

"Diana, why do you keep trying to ruin this for me?" Eric shot back. "You tell me how it's supposed to be a trick." He leaned forward against the table and glared angrily at her. "You tell me how Venger trashing the amusement park and getting himself arrested is supposed to be part of his master plan to steal our weapons and conquer the Realm. Because from where I'm sitting, it doesn't seem like such a brilliant plan to me."

"We can't be so sure he's not biding his time," Hank replied judiciously, in an attempt to ease the tension. "You saw him at the park; he would have destroyed our world if we hadn't led him back into the ride. Venger has the power to break free anytime he wants, so why did he allow himself to get captured by the police."

"He's got to be up to something," Diana added.

Eric scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I just don't understand why you people insist on looking for problems when there aren't any. The way I see it, everybody made out on this deal: We finally made it home – no more trudging through that stupid Realm; no more taking orders from the Magic Munchkin Who Never Makes Sense. We saved that entire world by getting rid of Venger for them, Horn-Head's in the hoosegow, and his little pony is probably on its way to the glue factory by now. Everybody should be happy. I certainly would be if you guys didn't insist on being the proverbial killjoys."

"You have to admit it's a little suspicious, Eric," Presto replied, as gently as he could. "Venger went on a rampage last night in the park. We thought he was going to try and destroy our entire planet – that's why we went back into the ride in the first place. Then he disappeared, and the next thing you know he's allowing himself to be caught by the cops. It just doesn't add up."

Eric stood up angrily, nearly pushing his chair over. "The only thing I have to admit is how glad I am to be home," he growled. "That's all; end of story. If you dummies can't stop complaining about it, then that's your problem. Maybe you deserve to still be stuck in that Realm. But not me – no way. Now, if you'll excuse me, all this doom-and-gloom has made me lose my appetite." He picked up his tray and dumped the contents into the nearest trash bin. Then he walked away without a backward glance.

After school, Hank found himself walking in the opposite direction of his home. Instead, he thought he should go looking for his car. He eventually remembered that he hadn't used the amusement park's lot on the day he and his friends had been transported to the Realm; he had actually opted to park outside on the street to avoid closing-time traffic. That had been a stroke of unexpected luck – he wasn't sure what he would have done if the authorities had found the vehicle in the parking lot. Would they have come looking for him and the others about what had happened in the park last night?

Hank had been relieved by the thought that he wouldn't have to answer any unwanted questions about the incident at the Dungeons & Dragons ride. So why had his feet led him in a different direction than where he thought he had wanted to go? Soon he was standing in front of the police station, unable to convince himself that this wasn't his planned destination from the very beginning. And yet, now that he was here, Hank couldn't move another step toward it.

"I had a feeling I'd see you here."

The voice snapped the Ranger back to reality and he glanced down the sidewalk to see Sheila standing a short distance away. Her face looked nervous, even as she squared her shoulders and approached him. Hank had to admit he felt an overwhelming sense of relief at seeing her there.

"I don't know why I really came," he replied.

"I do," Sheila answered with a shrug. "You want to know for sure: You want to know if it was really him, and you want to know – once and for all – if this is just a trap."

Hank grinned ruefully. "Even if that means I'm walking right into it?" he asked.

Sheila placed a hand on his arm. "At least this way neither one of us will have to do it alone."

Hank's smile became more genuine at that, and Sheila gave his arm a gentle squeeze. He faced the police station again.

"I just wish I could think of a good excuse to get in there," he said. "If we tell the cops that we know him, then they're going to wonder how. If we say that we don't, they're going to ask why we want to see him. Either way it's going to seem pretty suspicious."

"My cloak would come in handy here," Sheila mused. "Kind of ironic, isn't it?"

Hank nodded pensively.

"I guess we'll just have to use the next best thing," she added, holding up a small plastic card.

Hank looked at it and his eyes went wide. "This is a press pass for the school newspaper," he said.

"Some of the opening day festivities at the amusement park were sponsored by the high school," Sheila said. "It seems logical that the school paper would want an exclusive story about the man who trashed the park on opening day." She smiled. "Doesn't it?"

Hank grinned in response. "I didn't know you wrote for the school paper," he said.

Sheila's smile quirked, a little contritely. "I don't," she admitted. "But I did spend the last few months in the Realm as a thief." She placed the press pass into Hank's palm and shrugged. "I guess something stuck."

Hank looked down to where her hand still rested upon his arm, then covered it with his own. Together they made their way up the stairs to the police station door.

There was only one officer behind the desk when they entered. He barely looked up as the two teenagers approached him. "Can I help you kids?" he muttered as he scribbled something down on the forms in front of him.

"Uh, yeah. Hi," Hank began in greeting. "I'm Hank and this is Sheila. We write for the Mayfield High School newspaper." He laid the press pass down on the counter. "We were wondering if we could ask a few questions about the break-in at the park for our next edition."

The cop raised his eyes from his work and quirked an eyebrow at them. "The school paper wants to cover this story?" he asked.

"A companion piece to the one about opening day at the amusement park," Hank replied. "The high school sponsored a lot of the activities, you know."

"Look, kids," the cop said wearily, "we've been getting a lot of calls about this particular case and I'll tell you the same thing I've told everyone else: we just don't have any more information at this time. What you saw on the television is basically the whole story."

"Oh, we understand," Sheila stepped in, "but our teacher keeps insisting that we do all the legwork ourselves. We're not supposed to just take information from other sources. You know how it is with teachers," she added with a melodramatic roll of her eyes. "They need all the details."

"We hate to make you repeat yourself again," Hank said. "I promise we'll keep it short."

Off Hank's and Sheila's pleading smiles, the cop relented with a good-natured shake of his head. "Fine," he said. "But just so you know: you can only print what's been released to the public so far."

Hank nodded and Sheila fished a small tablet out of her backpack in an attempt to look official.

"What happened when you first arrived at the park?" Hank began.

"We responded to a call from someone who lives in the downtown area," the officer said. "They said they'd heard loud noises coming from inside the park – like explosions. When we arrived on-scene, we found that there had been quite a bit of damage done to the area around the center of the park – the section called Fantasy Land."

"And that's where you found the man – the trespasser?" Hank asked. He could hear Sheila scribbling away beside him, though he wasn't sure if she was really taking anything down, or she was only pretending to do it.

"We actually found him inside one of the rides," the officer replied. "The Dungeons & Dragons ride, to be exact. He was raving like a lunatic and had already done quite a bit of damage inside when we found him. They probably won't be able to re-open that ride again for a while."

"And we heard on the television that he had a . . . a horse with him?" Sheila added. Hank could tell that she was attempting to inject just the right amount of incredulity into her voice.

"That's right," the cop replied. "Big, black thing. Mean as anything, too. The guy probably mistreated it something awful, what with the way it was thrashing around. It took several men from Animal Control to subdue it and keep it from hurting anyone – or itself."

"And where is it now?" Sheila asked.

"Animal Control is taking care of it for now," the cop said. "Shame, though. It's a beautiful animal, but it looks like it will probably have to be put down. It's just too dangerous."

"And the man?" Hank said finally, holding his breath. "Can you tell us who he is?"

The cop shook his head. "The name he gave us is obviously fake – one of those overly-dramatic movie-villain fantasy names. Guy's a cultist, most like. He's a John Doe as far as we're concerned. At least for now, until we can dig up some kind of record. But he'll stay locked up for the time being."

"You can't tell us anything else about him?" Hank asked.

The cop paused, and Hank was worried he'd been too pushy. What if the officer started getting suspicious? Then the cop crossed his arms on the counter and leaned toward them. "Off the record?" he said. Then he glanced at Sheila. "You know what off the record is, right honey?"

Sheila nodded. She folded her tablet shut and clicked the pen closed.

Satisfied, the cop nodded. "The guy really did a number on himself," he said. "The way he looks – pointed teeth, claws, and his skin looks almost blue. His eyes . . . at first we thought they were contact lenses but . . . they're red. I mean, actually red. And he was dressed in this crazy outfit with a horn – something he probably could have gotten in a decent costume shop – but the rest of it . . . Nightmarish is all I can say to describe it."

"So, you're saying what? He's not human?" Hank felt almost silly saying such a thing in front of someone who probably never would have believed in the Realm, but he still had to ask.

The cop looked irritated, though Hank couldn't tell if it was because of his question or the fact that the cop's own description had led to Hank asking the question.

"Of course he's human, son," he assured them. "It's just . . . I can't understand why a person would want to do those kinds of things to their own body, that's all. The way he looks – you might not believe it, even if you saw it."

"Can we?" Hank asked quickly, without thinking.

The cop narrowed his eyes at them.

"It's completely off the record now," Sheila insisted, covering Hank's kneejerk reaction. "We just want to see him for ourselves. So many kids at school are really upset over what happened. We all worked really hard to sponsor a fun opening day at the park, and then this guy comes along and spoils it."

The officer looked hesitant. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea," he said. "The lockup in the back is just a temporary holding cell – it doesn't have any two-sided mirrors. He would see you too, and I'd rather not expose you kids to that kind of scumbag. Besides, you'd need your parents' permission."

"I'm 18," Hank said hurriedly as he fished his driver's license out of his wallet. "Please, officer. It would really help our friends at school feel better if I could just tell them that I saw the guy locked up with my own eyes."

The cop sighed and looked at Sheila expectantly. She shrugged her shoulders and gave a little shake of her head. "I'm only 17," she said, glancing at Hank. "I guess I'll have to wait out here."

"Well, I can't leave you out here alone, and I'm the only one on dispatch right now." He turned to Hank. "I can only give you five minutes. You understand, son?"

Hank nodded his head quickly. "I probably won't even need that long, officer," he said. "I just want a look. And, maybe, to ask him a question or two myself? If that's all right?"

"I suppose I can't stop you from talking to him, son," the policeman said gruffly. "Though I wouldn't advise it."

"I understand," Hank replied. "I'll be careful."

"Sign this, please." The policeman slid a spiraled book sharply toward Hank, and gestured to the pen that was attached to the Formica countertop by a chain. Hank assumed the book was a log with which to keep track of visitors. He hesitated for a moment, then signed his name, along with the time, into the first available space.

"Thank you, . . . Henry," the cop said as he slid the log book back toward him and glanced at the new entry – probably only really taking note of Hank's name for the first time. "Remember, he's not likely to tell you anything different than what we got out of him. So best I can say is keep it brief, Henry. No offense, but a high school paper is certainly not worth fraternizing with psychos. "

Hank nodded with a grim smile.

"If it's all right with you, officer," Sheila said, directing the cop's attention at her, "I'd like to get your name and any other pertinent information. You know, so we can cite you properly in the article."

The cop nodded, though he still looked concerned. "Through the door at the end of that hall," he said distractedly to Hank. "I'll buzz you in."

Hank walked to the back of the room and down the short hallway the policeman had indicated. He stopped at a door that read LOCKUP. He waited a few moments until a loud droning buzz sounded above his head, followed by a dull click as the door unlocked. Hank took a deep breath, turned the handle, and stepped inside.

To be continued . . .