Personal Affairs
Part IV: The Ship Sets Sail
by MegaSilver

It was 11:00 PM by the time the Harts got back to Coral Springs. When she walked into the door, Mrs. Hart sighed gratefully. "I have never completely let go of Germany," she remarked, "but right now, I am very happy to be home."

They spent the next fifteen minutes hauling in their luggage and unpacking a few of the essentials. Then her grandparents went upstairs to get ready for bed, but Kimberly remained in the living room sorting through a few things, the crimes of the last few days beginning once again to weigh on her mind. She eyed the phone on the lamp table next to the sofa, hesitating whether to touch it.

She and Brendan had only been an "official" couple for just over one month and neither had even said "I love you" yet—she might look like some clingy schoolgirl if she called to say "I'm back!" right now.

But what if something had happened? She and Brendan had been friends a bit longer than that, even if they hadn't gone through anything really hard yet.

"Kimberly?" Mrs. Hart descended the staircase in her bathrobe. "Are you going to bed?"

"In just a few minutes. I need to take care of something."

"Remember to turn off the lights. Good night."

"I will. Good night, Grandma." Finally, Kimberly sighed, picked up the phone, and rang Brendan's flat. After the seventh ring, she hung up, picked up the phone book, looked up a number, and dialed.

"O'Brien's Pub; this is Jerry."

"Hi, may I speak to a Brendan O'Driscoll?"

"All right; just a moment."

She remained on hold for more than three minutes. Finally, someone picked up. "Hello?"

"Brendan?"

"Kim!"

"I'm back. I'm sorry to call you at work, but—I heard what happened in Galway. Is…?"

"Look, Kim, I need to get back to the bar. I'm not closing tonight; I'll be off in a half hour. I know it's late, but is it all right if I stop by? I want to see you."

So maybe she hadn't been so overly attached. "Okay, just don't knock; my grandparents are sleeping. I'll watch for you."

It was destined to be a rather unusual welcome back.

Kimberly watched out the front window until she saw a pair of headlights approach and stop beside her grandparents' driveway. Immediately she rushed out to the porch to meet her boyfriend. "Brendan!" She kissed him.

He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed tightly. "How are you? Congratulations, by the way." Brendan spoke in a rushed and unenthusiastic manner, so Kimberly sensed all was not well.

"Thanks. Look, I wouldn't have called you so late, but I heard about what happened in Galway—the pipe bomb. Did you—is—"

"I saw it on the news wire downtown this morning. Kim, it's the factory where me da works! I haven't gotten through to them yet." He was trying to hide it, but his eyes betrayed his fear.

"Oh my gosh, Brendan, my parents—last weekend, right after I last talked to you, my mom and I went shopping and these two thugs invaded our apartment in Paris! They beat my stepfather and broke my brother's arm—and then they left. They didn't take anything or go into any other apartments!"

"Jaysus!" Brendan swore, quickly signing himself with the Cross. He pulled Kimberly against his chest and lay his head down on her own. "It's like we're both magnets for criminals!" He released his grip and let her stand back to look at her.

Out of his arms Kimberly suddenly noticed that it was slightly cooler than usual for a South Florida evening, even in the winter. It had seemed warmer at first, coming from Europe…

"Kim, I have to tell you something," he began. "Last night a man came into the bar about ten-thirty and stayed there until I closed. He kept watching me and he followed me back to me car—he grabbed me in the alley and told me you were his girl and I should stay away from him. He said… that he had connections; that he knew how to hit people where it hurts."

This all might not be such a coincidence after all. "Did you get his name?"

"I didn't."

"What did he look like?"

"Broad-shouldered, a couple inches taller than me, an ex-Marine, maybe. Black hair. Mighty grip. Feckin' mad. He spoke like a New Yorker. And when I looked at him closely, I swear his eyes turned red, like he was in a flash photograph or something."

Kimberly's own eyes went wide. Something was definitely up here. Eyes glowing red… in her Ranger days that had always been a clear-cut sign of an evil spell of sorts. And from the physical description, it sounded like it might be… Jason, maybe? But under whose spell? Kimberly remembered Jason's balking at the news of her boyfriend's occupation. Unconsciously, perhaps, the immature side of her was drawing an undue connection with the idea that Jason's protective streak might explode.

But that was absurd. Jason wasn't like that at all, his personal feelings would have nothing to do with a spell, and he didn't have a New York accent. But maybe Brendan had mistaken the region. Not that it mattered much. Someone diabolical was clearly behind it, and obviously targeting her. But if they were behind the other attacks, why hadn't they used supernatural force? Or had they?

"Kim?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you know this fellow?"

Slowly Kimberly nodded. "I think maybe I do." Or at least, I probably know whoever's behind him—or it.

"Who?"

"I'm not sure. There's one guy in particular, but I don't want to say for certain."

"Did you ever date him?"

"No. He—I guess maybe he wanted to date me, but I never would let him. I don't know if he was mad about it or…" It was a weak—and not exactly true—response, but it was the best she could think of. This whole situation was frustrating—and she knew there was nothing more they could accomplish here tonight. She'd have to wait until he left so she could call Billy and try to get some help on this.

Brendan remained silent for a few moments, clearly unsatisfied with the vague details she was giving. "Well do you think maybe there's a connection?"

"Maybe. But how? How could the same guys come after me in Paris—then come after you a few days later, then firebomb your dad's workplace on the same day?"

"It didn't have to be the same lads every time. People have networks. I have 'em. How else would he have known you were down here and dating me?" Kimberly was looking through him and not responding, caught up in her troubled thoughts. "Are you sure you never dated him?"

Now Kimberly was becoming a bit annoyed. "I told you, no! My gosh, Brendan, will you calm down and just trust me, please?"

Brendan reacted sharply. "Well, is it so fecking hard to understand why I'm upset? Some guy comes looking for you and nails your family. Then he holds me up. Then he nails my father!"

"Brendan, we don't even know if there's a connection yet!" What a lie.

"Well, I'm thinking there is!" By now he was practically trembling with angry fear. "I'm scared, all right, Kim?" I'm worried about you; I'm worried about all of us!"

"It'll be all right. I promise. I just need to think this through."

"Well, will you tell me who he is? Will you just tell me that much?"

Kimberly took a deep breath. "I will," she said, not sure if she meant it. "It's just—right now I'm still trying to piece it all together myself. I don't know for sure…"

Brendan blinked, looking somewhere between angry and hurt. "How am I supposed to trust you if you won't trust me? I'm in this with you! I want to help you! I can't do that if I don't know what's going on!"

Kimberly swallowed. "I do trust you. You know I do. This is just something…"

"I can't help you with," Brendan finished for her. His lips pursed together. "And why the fuck not?" At that Kimberly flinched. Brendan shook his head. "Can't you just tell me why? Or can I help you with anything? Do you need me at all?" He threw up his hands, shaking his head. "Look, I need to go. I'm deadly tired."

"Brendan, wait—"

"We'll talk later," her boyfriend said, still looking and sounding upset. With that, he turned around and marched back to his car.

Kimberly watched as he sped out of the neighborhood. She was tired, frustrated with the situation and irritated at Brendan for not understanding. Of course he wouldn't understand this. But did he have to be so temperamental about the whole thing? After all, quid pro quo, she was willing to stay away from his workplace when heaven knew how many beautiful girls walked into that pub every night!

Couldn't he just trust me with this?

She tried to tell herself that things would work out all right. Or would they? What if this was something that would hang between them? They'd known each other for a bit, but they'd never fought or anything before. Sure, the situation wasn't his fault, but she'd never seen that temperamental side of Brendan before. Would he continue to make a big deal out of it?

At the heart of it all, Kimberly knew, was the tension of trying to live a normal life while still keeping the secrets of the Power. In the old days that had been impossible, and she had quickly given up trying. But now that she was a civilian, she was supposed to be getting a respite. So why wasn't she?

Re-entering the house and dialing Billy's number, she tried to put it all out of her mind. To her further frustration, she got only an answering machine.

"Hey, Billy, it's Kimberly. I'm back in Florida, but something kind of weird's going on and I need your advice. If you get this call me as soon as possible. Our number's 954-555-0860."

Brendan fumed all the way back to his place, driving a little more dangerously than usual and grinding the 1988 Ford Taurus to a halt in the parking lot below his apartment. He was glad his flatmate had gone down to the Keys for a few days; the last thing he wanted was to explain his mood. But by the time he entered the living room, slammed the door behind him and leaned up against it, his Irish temper was beginning to give way to Irish guilt.

Why'd you fecking yell at her like that? Why'd you do it?

He knew Kimberly did trust him at least enough to accept why it would be imprudent to enter his workplace, and she had never accused him of cheating on her or anything. Brendan did not regret asking that of her, especially after his run-in with the brut last night. But at least he had explained that situation to her candidly. Why couldn't Kimberly just do the same thing here? What, if anything, did she have to hide?

Regardless, he knew it had been pointless to blow up at her. Sometimes it was just the way he and his kin did things—brawl one day, no hard feelings the next—but for all he knew Kimberly might not understand that. She was younger, and American; temperaments varied from age to age and culture to culture, among many other factors. He had thought things would be okay, having known her a little bit before dating her, but then they had never fought before. What if he was overstepping his boundaries with this relationship?

He struck his heart with his right hand, as if back in his altar boy days. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa…

Come on, he told himself. Just buy her some flowers tomorrow and see where it went from there. He figured he should've had something for her tonight, anyway.

Either way, though, that wouldn't solve the problem of this criminal ex-Marine after them.

Brendan debated grabbing a shot or two but thought better of it; just the stress of everything was fast knocking him out. He was so overwhelmed that he would forget to try to call his parents again that evening. Finally he relaxed a bit, unzipped his hooded sweatshirt, tossed it over the bed frame and sat on the sofa. Intending to go for the shower, he began removing his sneakers and socks, but once they were off he decided he was just too fecking tired right now. He leaned back and stretched out his legs, but before he could rotate his body to lie across the sofa, the sound of the window shattering across the room startled him into to a standing position.

Instantly Brendan tensed up his muscles and tried to don a game face as he once more stared down the stalker from last night.

"I told you to stay away from her!" the bruiser growled.

"Fuck you, you bastard!"

The hooligan charged over. Just before he arrived, Brendan stepped to the side, gripped the back of the guy's shirt, and took advantage of his momentum to twist his path and divert him into the dining table. The impact snapped the cheap wood on one of the legs, though not breaking it entirely.

No time to worry about that now. It could be fixed. Brendan started or the door, intending to grab his roommate's nearby baseball bat on the way out.

He never made it to either the bat or the door. The thug rebounded and caught up quickly, pulling Brendan's feet out from under him. The next thing Brendan knew, he was being jerked up from the floor and shoved up against the wall.

The next morning was one of those mornings where one lacked the will to do anything but stay in bed and sulk long after awakening. Still, by the time she heard her grandparents' car pull up at nearly 11:00 AM, Kimberly began to grow irritated with herself. She had always been a morning person. And here she was, wasting the morning, awake in bed since before her grandparents had left the house…

… and just waiting for Brendan to call.

Okay, maybe it wasn't a waste.

Or was it? Kimberly wondered as at last she threw back her covers. Her mind raced as she marched toward the shower.

Okay, so Brendan had a bit of a temper sometimes. Fine. So did most guys, she reasoned, and besides, it must be a frustrating situation for him. He'd get over it. Surely he would; no one could have lived so much and so well as young as Brendan had and be just a total jerk about this forever.

But what if he did? she wondered as she finished drying her hair. Well, better to find out sooner rather than later.

After pulling on a lavender spaghetti-strap top, blue boot-cut jeans and brown Doc Martens, Kimberly reached for her hairbrush but her hand stroked the pink photo album it rested against. Pensive, she picked up the album and began leafing through. There they were: Trini, Aisha, Billy, Jason and all the others…

… including Tommy.

Kimberly sat down on her bed and gazed at the glossy-finish photo of her and Tommy together at the park in January 1995. Two years ago. Two years already.

And less than two months since—

Sighing, Kimberly closed the photo album as her thoughts returned to her stalker predicament. What if… she just couldn't escape? What if her old life would always overtake her?

Should I not have broken up with Tommy, then? Surprisingly, though, it was a question she asked herself more out of practicality than out of regretful dread.

Somehow, the thought of going to Angel Grove seemed almost… distasteful, even. With and without Brendan, she had just seen so much in the past nine months and couldn't get it all out of her head. When she saw the present, she saw Florida, not California. When she thought about the future lately, she just wasn't sure what it was she saw. She'd had new sorts of adventures. She'd keep on having them. Heck, she'd be trying out for the Pan Global Games in just a year!

Still… it would be nice to get to share those adventures with someone. With Tommy, she had shared some of the most dangerous and high-energy military adventures possible in the universe. But Brendan, with his zipping up and down the country, and across the sea in high-energy extreme sport and travelling… that was exactly the sort of adventure she had now.

Suddenly, Kimberly heard her grandmother's voice and the sound of a frying pan hitting the stove. She wasn't particularly hungry, but she knew her grandparents would be wondering where she was, so she quickly brushed out and tied up her hair and headed down the stairs to the kitchen. "Good morning," she said quietly.

"Kimberly!" exclaimed her grandmother. "Did you sleep late?"

Kimberly winced but held a smile. "I just got up," she said, and of course, technically it was true. "How was the baptism?"

"Oh, it was lovely. The Mascaletti baby was just so precious."

Even before her grandmother had finished, Kimberly noticed something on the counter that made her smile for real: a red foil-wrapped pot containing a luxurious poinsettia plant. "Ooh!" she exclaimed. "Did you just buy this today?"

"Actually, it came for you," explained her grandfather. "We found it on the front porch as we walked in."

Kimberly's heart skipped. Brendan! "For me?" She looked over the flowers and found the forest green envelope. She nearly tore into it right there but stopped when she remembered her grandparents were watching.

"Is it from that nice young Irish lad?" teased her grandfather. "What did he say?"

"Oh, Gunnar, stop it!" her grandmother scolded. "Just let it stay between them!"

Kimberly flashed an expression of gratitude toward her grandmother. "I've gotta go finish something," she said, motioning toward the living room.

"Of course!" Her grandmother nodded approvingly.

Once she was comfortably alone on the couch, a somewhat calmer Kimberly neatly opened the envelope and pulled out a well-crafted plain manila card.

I long to see you again and to make things right. Be at the flat at 12:00 PM.

Kimberly glanced at her watch. Talk about cutting it close!

The door to Brendan's flat was slightly ajar when Kimberly arrived. Worried, she creaked it open and found the window smashed and the couch ajar, the blanket draped over it half pulled off and one of the two pillows on the floor. Clearly a struggle had taken place.

Another envelope with Kimberly's name printed in a familiar eerie font lay on Brendan's dining table. Eyes wide open and her heart pounding, Kimberly seized the envelope and tore it open.

Out fell… a cargo cruise ticket?

A little stunned, Kimberly glanced at the text of the accompanying letter. Immediately, her eyes widened and her heart sank.

If you ever want to see Brendan again, board the cargo ship. The ship sets sail at 5 PM sharp. Come alone. Don't be late.

~Z

"Hi, you've reached the Cranston household. Please leave your name and phone number and we'll get back to you as soon as possible."

"Hey, Billy, it's Kim again. Sorry to keep bugging you, but I really need you to call me back. We're having trouble with… the college fraternity…" She paused, grabbed the dictionary from off her desk and rapidly flipped to the Greek alphabet chart. "… Zeta Epsilon Delta Delta. Please call me back. My number's 954-555-0860. Thanks."

It was scarcely after 12:30 PM. Upon reading the letter, Kimberly had raced home immediately and was now phoning her old friends from her bedroom.

She tried Rocky, Adam and Katherine, but with no better luck. And since the new Yellow Ranger—what was her name? oh, yes, Tanya—was living with Katherine, that left only one person to call.

Taking a deep breath, Kimberly dialed Tommy's number and tried to act stoic.

"Hello?" came a mature female voice.

Kimberly froze for a moment. She hadn't expected Tommy's mother to answer.

"Hello?"

"Hi, sorry, umm, may I please speak with Tommy?"

"He's out just right now. May I take a message?"

"Umm… yeah. This is Kimberly."

"Oh. Hi, Kimberly."

"Hi, Mrs. Oliver. Umm, could you tell Tommy we're having trouble with… Zeta Epsilon Delta Delta?"

"… Zeta, Epsilon, Delta, Delta. All right, I'll tell him. Goodbye, Kimberly."

"Goodbye, Mrs. Oliver." Kimberly hung up and exhaled, relieved to be finished with that task. Suddenly, it downed on her that that code might not be so secure as she had imagined. Zedd's name was not as well known to the Angel Grove public as Rita's, but there was a slight chance someone's parents might catch on.

Oh, well. No time to worry about that.

Come on, come on… call back!

Slumping down in her desk chair, Kimberly started stroking the silver quill feather pen Brendan had given her for Christmas. It certainly wasn't a gift she would have predicted, but she loved it. The real feather stood out in particular as a sort of continuity between her old life and her new one, as though a Phoenix or a Crane from the past had left her with a token of itself to be useful in the present circumstances.

But now, she was feeling that she could use one of those Zords back at full power just to keep alive, period.

If only I hadn't let my guard down last night, if only I'd stopped Brendan from going home all alone… But even then, she might not have been able to protect him without her powers. If she'd had them, she wondered, would she have been less apt to let her guard down?

Oh, this is all my fault!

Kimberly wanted to cry, but she knew it was a folly in the circumstances. If she didn't have her powers, she at least had to stay calm and be vigilant. She was the one who understood what was going on and what they were up against, and she would have to be the one to protect them against it, as far as she could, until she could get help.

Taking a deep breath, Kimberly glanced at her watch. Without weekday traffic, she'd need a little over an hour to drive down to the Port of Miami. If she didn't hear from someone by about 3:00 PM, she'd just have to resign herself to getting on that boat.

As she parked her car in the long-term lot at the Port of Miami and trudged toward the dock printed on her ticket, Kimberly wondered what she would tell her family and Coach Schmidt when she got back after having been missing for days… on a boat with a man of majority. Well, she could skip that latter part. But before she could even think of a possible solution to that question just to evaluate, it dawned on her that she would also have to explain the credit card charges for two airline tickets back to Miami from Lisbon or Madrid.

Okay, maybe she wouldn't be able to leave out the part about her travelling companion.

As she stepped up to the dock, it dawned on her that those were best-case scenarios, assuming as they did that she would find Brendan alive on the ship, deal with this thug adequately and land safely in Iberia. Yet as unsolvable as those problems seemed, puzzling over them was a good way to stop herself from worrying about what would unfold once she boarded the ship.

Gripping the strap on the bag she had packed with nervous tension, Kimberly handed her ticket and passport to the agent keeping the ramp and fiddled nervously with the zipper on her pink hoodie as the agent inspected them. "Your timing is excellent, Mademoiselle," he said as he handed her the documents back. He tapped his watch to signal.

"Yeah," Kimberly whispered. Okay, this is it. No turning back. She took a deep breath and started up the ramp.

At the dining table, Kimberly warily eyed the plateful of squid before her eyes. It was copious, but she couldn't say it was exactly what she was used to. But she hadn't eaten a thing all day, and she was starved. She also had a feeling she was in for a battle of sorts at some point, and the last thing she wanted or needed was to fall down the way she had in the middle of two of her last three fights as a Power Ranger. So she picked up her fork and began shoveling it all in.

About halfway through her meal, she heard the young man on her left say in a cheery, almost musical, accent, "You like the calamari, do you?"

Kimberly glanced up at her neighbor and blinked. He looked about twenty-five years old, and was ruggedly handsome: olive-colored skin, dark brown eyes, short black hair and a stubbled face. "Umm… well, it's not really what I'm used to, but…" Kimberly stopped when, just down the table, she noticed another man trying to catch her eye: a bigger man, with buzzed light brown hair, burning black eyes, pale white skin and a sour expression. He just stared at her and gave a knowing nod.

Kimberly had a feeling that was the guy Brendan had mentioned. And he was definitely not Jason.

Her cheery neighbor cut into her nervous fixation. "Ah, I see there! It can be hard on a ship without stabilizers." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny container. "Here. It's ginger root. Take a pinch every half-hour if you feel sick."

"Umm, thanks," said Kim as she took the box, not sure what to think.

"You're American?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm uh… I live in Florida," answered Kimberly, trying to keep a subtle eye on the big man down the table.

Her neighbor nodded. "My name is Vincenzo. I'm from Umbria."

Kimberly made an effort to smile. In other circumstances, this might have been interesting; in the present circumstances, it was a bit aggravating, but she did her best not to let that show. "I'm Kimberly."

"Lovely, Florida. We were there since two days."

"Yeah," Kimberly breathed. "Bet Umbria's nice, too."

"It's… heavenly," Vincenzo assured her in a soft voice. "You've never been to Italy?"

"Uh… no." Kimberly grimaced as she noticed the big man getting up from the table and start to leave. Quickly she turned her grimace into a grin and focused back on Vincenzo's face. "I might, soon, though, I guess. My mom lives in France."

At that moment, from across the table and down a few places, someone called out, "Hey, Vincenzo!" Kimberly and Vincenzo shot their eyes over to eye the grinning, thirty-something-looking man who had interjected. With a similar accent to Vincenzo's, the man continued: "It's not because you're Italian that she's interested!"

Vincenzo grinned back. "... dice l'uomo che non scopa da tre settimane !"

"Sono sposato e sono fuori casa da tre settimane !"

"Ah, Giuliano ! Troione d'un barbone, tu !"

"Ah, Vincenzo ! Pervertito, tu !"*

*("… says the man who hasn't been laid in three weeks."

"I'm married and I haven't been home in three weeks!"

"Ah, Giuliano, you tramp!"

"Ah, Vincenzo, you pervert!")

The tone of the exchange was friendly enough and the two men were grinning at each other, a very familiar grin—one such as that which Kimberly had seen on Tommy and Jason or on Rocky and Adam when either pair was engaged in an amical exchange of salacious trash-talk and thought that no girls were listening or watching.

So although Kimberly didn't understand a word of Italian, there was no doubt in her mind what was going on. And while she would have gently slugged Tommy or Rocky for such indiscretion, in this place and at this time she was grateful for the opportunity to discreetly slip away and look for the thug.

Kimberly wandered somewhat aimlessly through endless load of crates and packages below deck. Vincenzo had been right about a cargo ship's lack of stabilizers, and her vestibilar system was definitely letting her feel it. It didn't help that she could also feel that squid sloshing around inside her. However, she had never been a hurler, and she was determined to keep it down now.

So she paused, took a small taste of that ginger root, and began searching once more. At least that distracting mating ritual had been of some use. Now if only she could find where that thug had gone off to…

At that moment a muffled voice cried out, "Hello?"

Kimberly whirled around every which way but saw no one.

"Is anyone there? Anyone at all?"

Kimberly's heart leapt. That had definitely been an Irish accent she'd heard. Cautiously, she called out, "Brendan?"

"Kim!"

"Brendan, it's me! Where are you?"

"I'm bound up inside a crate!"

Kimberly looked around herself at the many dozens of crates. "Which one?" It was a stupid question, but she had no idea where to begin searching.

"I don't know!"

"Brendan, keep talking! I'll listen my way over to you."

"Kim, I'm in here. Right here! I can hear your footsteps—there! Kim, I can see you! You're right in front of it!"

"All right! I'm here." Kimberly took a deep breath as she eyed the wooden planks sealing the crate. "Now if I could just—" She placed her hands on a plank, wondering if she could pull it off, but quickly relented. That wood was crawling with slivers. She darted her eyes around and noticed a utility belt resting on a package nearby. She fumbled through it and found hammer, nails and—gloves! Perfect. She donned the gloves, gripped the hammer and began to pry at the planks, one by one, until they came loose. Finally she was face-to-face with the full body of Brendan, bound hands and feet by ropes to the other planks.

"Kim, I'm so glad to see you!" Brendan gasped.

"I'm so glad to see you, too! Let's get you out of here!" Quickly, Kimberly undid the ropes and began to pull her boyfriend into an embrace.

"Ach! Kim, easy! The floor's slivered and I'm not wearing shoes."

"All right. Let's get you down." She helped him step out gingerly onto the floor.

Brendan glanced around them, his eyes looking a bit light-sensitive and out-of-focus, not surprisingly considering the long hours in the dark. "What's going on? How'd you find me? Where are we?" He took a step forward and nearly fell over.

Kimberly grabbed him, pulled him back up and put his arm around her. He was clearly stiff and exhausted from the long hours immobile and upright, plus the several hours tossing around at sea. "We're on a cargo ship somewhere over the Atlantic. Come on," she said, leading him along, "we've got to find our way back up deck before—"

Just then, the big thug stepped right in front of the pair. He shot a ferocious glance at Brendan. "I thought I told you to stay away from her!"

"Fuck off! Brendan spat.

"Brendan, it's okay! Get back!" ordered Kimberly, taking a defensive stance.

"Kim, are you nuts?"

"Brendan, trust me on this!" Kimberly turned to face their stalker. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Who am I?" The thug chuckled. "Well… I guess I am in a bit of a strange disguise. Maybe you'll remember this a bit better!" With that, he morphed into Lord Zedd.

Kimberly could hear Brendan's breaths growing shorter and heavier behind her, but she herself was suddenly more focused, almost relieved. Here was a foe she knew. Here was something she could face.

Hopefully, she could overcome it without her powers.

"You!" she shot, forcefully but without much surprise in her voice."

"Well, well!" Zedd sighed. "I must say, Kimberly, I was a bit disappointed when I saw the man you'd dumped Tommy for!"

"Shut up!" screamed Kimberly.

"Fuck you, you bastard!" growled Brendan.

"What are you doing here?" Kimberly snarled.

"Why, Kimberly, it hasn't even crossed your mind? I have come to seek your hand in matrimony!"

Actually, at least since she'd discovered it was Lord Zedd behind this, the thought hadn't once crossed Kimberly's mind. "What?" She almost had to restrain herself from laughing out loud. "All of a sudden Rita's not good enough?"

Then Kimberly's eyes went wide as she remembered something potentially deadly. Quickly she glanced downward and gasped with horror. She was still wearing the spaghetti-strap tank-top she had put on that morning—and she was standing right in front of an evil space alien who had just proposed marriage.

Immediately, she threw her pink hoodie back on and zipped it up to the neck.

"Rita unfortunately had a date with the Grim Reaper," Zedd announced. "But no matter—she was a hindrance to my plans. And now I am on the verge of rebuilding my former ducal empire on a grander scale than ever before! Imagine being revered as Ducal Empress of it all!"

Kimberly didn't even have to think about her response. "Okay, so, first you bust into my apartment and beat up my brother and stepdad, then you bully my boyfriend and his family, then you kidnap my boyfriend and lure me onto this ridiculous cruise and now you expect me to swoon? You're not only gross; your timing is totally off!"

"I figured you would be reluctant, my dear. But really, sweet Kimberly, do you think that you have an actual choice in the matter? Do you think you can stop me from harming your family or your precious Mick over there? Think about what I've done. I can do more. Why, you've known me for years! You know full well what I'm capable of. And this time, with your pathetic friends all tied up in a war against my former enemy and you out of commission, there's no way you can possibly resist if I want to take you!

"So, choose, Kimberly. Will you come the easy way, or the hard way?"

As Kimberly listened to Zedd speak, she noticed Brendan creeping around behind the red menace, a large, heavy wooden plank in his hand. She watched as he telegraphed it upwards and sent it smashing down on Zedd's head—with no effect.

"Bastard!" Brendan winced, cursing not at Zedd but at the plank, which had sent slivers into his tender palms.

Zedd began to glow. "You'll pay for that, Papist Paddy scum!" he growled, firing a jolt from his Z-Staff into Brendan's torso and sending the Irishman hurling against another crate.

"Brendan!" cried Kimberly, rushing over to her boyfriend. He was still alive, and conscious, but clearly shaken up.

"You see? You see what I'm capable of, Kimberly? I could take you anywhere I wanted right now, but I'm giving you a chance to come willingly. Now, what will it be?"

Kimberly breathed heavily as she glanced from Brendan to Zedd. At such close range with no weapons and no powers, she wouldn't stand a chance of resisting; she'd get zapped, too, and would likely get Brendan killed in the process. She'd have to take her chances and see about plotting some sort of escape as the opportunity came up—or count on the Rangers to get her messages and pray she'd be taken to a place that was still within their reach.

But if Zedd was going to be in his former environs, it was likely she would be within their reach at some point. She could only hope there would be enough of her recognizable self left to salvage by then.

"If I go now, you'll leave him alone?" she said. "He's not in any of this."

"Why, of course! It is tradition to give one's wife a wedding present, after all!"

Brendan was coming to, and he was scarcely calmer than he had been at the beginning. "Kim, what the fuck—"

"Brendan, listen. I have to go. I knew this guy before and I thought I'd shaken him, but I hadn't. There's no other choice."

"Kim, no! What the fuck is all this?" Brendan's understood that that particular choice word tended to convey more its vulgar, angry sense in North America than it did in Ireland, but in the circumstances he could barely hold it in.

In any event, Kimberly, while perhaps a bit jarred by liberty with which he was now sprinkling it in, could hear that his tone was one of meek frightfulness rather than anger and frustration. "Brendan, please! Look: I promise I'll get back—very soon—"—though she had no idea how—"—and I promise I'll explain everything, but right now I really have to—"

"All right!" grunted Zedd, yanking Kimberly by the shoulder and pulling her to her feet. "Enough time for goodbyes. Let's be on our way now!"

With that, the newly declared fiancés disappeared, leaving a stunned and terrified Brendan behind.

TO BE CONTINUED…