Scott came to, feeling every inch of his body aching after his savage beating. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the lights. Flynn and Dr. K were checking over him.
"What happened?" He asked them, somehow hoping they had some answers.
"We were kind of hoping you could tell us that." Dr. K answered, continuing to check over some monitors. "You have a grade 2 concussion, bu you seem to have avoided any other major injuries."
"It doesn't feel like it." Scott grumbled as he started to get up from the table. "It feels like I was hit by a truck."
"Well not quite." Flynn told him, helping him up. "If you were hit by a truck then your injuries would have been a little more consistent. Sorry to tell you this, but it looks like you were on the receiving end of a five-star arse kicking."
"I kind of remember that." Scott told him.
"You were found a couple of streets away from the tailors." Flynn told him. "Do you remember who did this to you?"
"Not really." Scott informed him, rubbing his head thoughtfully. "I just remember going to the tailors, and then chasing someone. After that, everything's a little fuzzy."
"Given the condition of your brain I'm not surprised." Dr. K said as she approached him. "Whoever did this to you gave you a serious concussion. I'd be surprised if you remembered any of the attack."
Scott got off the table and made his way over to the monitors, pulling on his t-shirt.
"I guess someone got the drop on me." He commented as he turned around. "I can't believe someone jumped me."
"Well if it makes you feel any better, they didn't steal anything." Flynn told him, handing him his wallet and his morpher. "It looks like whoever did this was disturbed."
"Either that or the intention wasn't to rob him." Dr. K chipped in. "Scott's been pretty fortunate under the circumstances."
"I guess I have." He stated as Flynn left the room. He came over to Dr. K's side. She shifted a little uneasily under his gaze.
"Is there something else I can help you with?" She asked him. Scott smiled at her.
"You called me Scott." He reminded her. "I think that's the first time you've called any of us by our real names without being reminded."
"I suppose it is." Dr. K commented, turning back to her work. "If you're feeling alright, then I really have a lot to do here."
"You always have a lot to do." He commented. "You should give yourself a break one in a while."
"You're the one with the concussion." Dr. K reminded him, shrugging off his comment. "You should take it easy, I'll need to monitor you closely in case I missed any internal bleeding."
"That's easy for you to say." He muttered, holding an ice pack to his aching head. "I just want to find out who did this."
"Your father has launched an investigation." She told him. "Leave it to the military. They'll find who did this."
Meanwhile, over at central command, Colonel Truman was in a foul mood. It had now been a couple of hours since a soldier on a routine patrol had called in informing him that someone had attacked his son. The attack had taken place in a back alley, beyond the gaze of the surveillance system, and so he was left hoping that the ensuing investingation would shed some light on the identity of his attackers.
"What do you have for me?" Colonel Truman asked as one of the lab technicians approached him.
"I'm sorry sir, there's no evidence as to who did this." He told him nervously, fearful of the Colonel's response. "The only clue we have is this."
He handed him the white rose that had been left on Scott's body after the attack. The colonel just snorted.
"Are you trying to tell me that he was attacked by an urban myth?" He asked them. Corporal Hicks stumbled as he heard this, almost dropping the clip board he was carrying.
"Corporal Hicks, is there something I can help you with?" The colonel snapped a little impatiently at his bumbling assistant.
"No." He replied quietly, before leaving. The colonel turned back to the lab technicians.
"I want to know who did this." He told them sternly. "Have an answer for me other than some non-existent cult by the end of the day."
He made his way into his office and switched on the coffee machine, brewing himself some coffee. He hated feeling useless, but until he had some idea who had done this to his son, there was nothing he could do to make it right.
It was obvious he had been blind-sided by the attack. He was a strong fighter through his years of training, so he knew that few could match him one-on-one, certainly not some lowly street punks. This had to have been planned.
He looked to the white rose in his hand, and hoped it didn't mean what he thought it did. The White Rose was a cult that was rumoured to exist long before the population were forced to hide behind Corinth's shields. It was spoken of only in whispers, kind of like an ethereal bogeyman. According to the rumours, its members had worked their way into every level of society. Of course, there was no evidence the cult even existed, and most believed it to be nothing more than a paranoid fantasy, a myth. As the coffee machine finished its brew and he poured himself a cup, Colonel Truman hoped that it was a coincidence. If The White Rose did exist, and they had indeed planned the attack on Scott, then he knew that this would be far from the end of the matter.
Deep beneath the surface of the city, hidden in deep, dark catacombs, a large number of masked, robed men assembled wordlessly under the light of burning torches. A man in a pristine, white robe stepped onto the stage before them. As he stood by a large, bronze statue of some long-forgotten hero, the light from the many torches flickering, he pulled down his hood, exposing a golden mask with a twisted, daemonic visage. Gates pulled off his mask, exposing his face to the assembled masses.
"Brothers, the time we have long dreamed of is quickly approaching." He announced, causing a slight murmur of whispered questions between them. "Before long, The White Rose will no longer be hiding in the shadows. We will take our rightful place and lead humanity into a new dawn."
A cheer went up from the assembled cult members as he spoke. Gates smiled as he took in their applause.
"We will finally achieve our ultimate objective." He informed them. "We will finally have ultimate control. The time of The White Rose is almost upon us."
"The Red Ranger was attacked." One of the cultists called out, approaching the stage nervously.
"Of course he was!" Gates snapped in response. "He is the enemy! He is the banner behind which all those who oppose us rally! He is the very reason we hide in shadows and meet in secret, and I for one am sick of it!"
"But sir..."
"Kill him!" Gates barked. One of the other cultists stepped forward, ramming a knife between his ribs, while holding a hand over his mouth to prevent him screaming. He watched as they dragged his corpse away. "Does anyone else have an objection?"
No one answered. As the cultists who removed the objector returned, Gates sneered.
"When our plan is complete, we will finally have one strong, unpolluted race!" He snorted in disgust. "When Venjix overtook the world, that was our time, that was our opportunity to achieve what we've always wanted! One bloodline, one colour, one people! We will finally achieve what we always wanted!"
The crowd started chanting and throwing salutes in his direction. Gates basked in the appreciation of his followers.
"Corinth is the new Garden of Eden!" He spat dismissively. "Soon, there will only be one race, our race. We will re-set evolution and ensure that the new form of evolution is done right."
He pulled a white rose from his robes and kissed it tenderly.
"The White Rose will rule the world." He declared with a laugh. "The name of Truman will mean nothing when we have one pure bloodline."
Summer made her way into Dr. Young's clinic with Dillon by her side. Maxie came over to her and looked at her apologetically.
"I guess you've had a rough couple of days." She commented.
"I'm glad you came, I wouldn't have blamed you if you didn't." Dr. Young told her as he came from his treatment room.
"I'm still angry." Summer told him. "You could have stopped this, you could have said something..."
"Under the Hippocratic Oath I couldn't say anything." He replied, cutting her off. "I said nothing to incriminate you."
"You didn't defend me either!" She snapped back. He sighed and held the door open for her.
"I couldn't, anything that happens in our sessions is confidential." He reminded her as she made her way inside. Dillon followed her. "I'm sorry..."
"He stays." Summer stated before he could protest.
"If you're alright with him hearing what we have to discuss, then that's fine by me." Dr. Young told her. "I didn't defend you because to do so I'd have to tell them what we discuss in our sessions, and without your permission, I won't do that."
"I guess I did judge a little quickly." Summer replied. "I'm sorry I blamed you, there's been a lot on my mind since the paper came out."
"Well I can imagine." Dr. Young replied, taking a seat. "I won't put you under, today we'll just talk for a while. I thought you might want to air some things."
Summer took Dillon's hand and took a deep breath.
"I know that Chas doesn't love me, I know that was always going to be a marriage of convenience, but I can't believe he'd hurt me like this." She said as she looked on the doctor. "Even mom and dad could find some common ground."
"You spoke with your parents?" He asked her. "I..."
"I did it on my own accord." Summer interrupted him. "I needed some answers."
"Did you get them?" He asked. Summer nodded a little.
"I got most of them." She stated. "Mom and dad told me about the thought process behind the arrangement."
"What else did they tell you?" He asked her. Summer smiled a little as she remembered one of the few honest conversations she'd had with her parents.
"They told me that they loved me." She informed him. "They didn't love each other when they got married, they only had me because it was expected of them to continue the bloodline, but they loved me."
"That must have been good to know." He told her. Summer nodded.
"It was good to know I wasn't just a tool of some archaic political bullshit game." She replied. "They told me that they fell in love."
"They did?" Dr. Young asked her. Again, Summer nodded.
"They fell in love with each other." Summer told him. "Dad said it himself, when they lost everything else, they realised what they had all along."
"Do you forgive them?" He asked her. Summer shook her head.
"I can't forgive them for what happened before." She told him. "They're not the same people now, I know things are different now."
"I take it this is the man you've spoken of in our sessions." Dr. Young told her, gesturing to Dillon.
"He is." Summer replied. "This is Dillon."
"She has spoken very fondly of you." Dr. Young said as he reached out to Dillon for a handshake. Dillon considered it for a while, before shaking his hand.
"She said a lot about you too." He said a little judgementally.
"You don't need to worry, I've not done anything to her she isn't comfortable with." He said reassuringly. "If it makes you feel better, you can sit in on the session, presuming Summer doesn't mind."
"I don't." Summer told him. Dr. Young picked up a newspaper, showing it to her.
"I know it's been a tough couple of days." He stated. "How did you handle it?"
"I handled it a lot better than I thought I would." She replied. "It seems like everyone's against me now. In some ways I felt alone, it was like I was the only sane person in the world."
"What helped?" He asked her.
"My friends." She replied. "They all protected me when everyone thought I was a basket case. They kept people away from me, they looked out for me. I also had a major breakthrough."
"What was that?" He asked her. Summer shifted closer to Dillon.
"Dillon held me." She told him. "He held me and I didn't freak out."
"How did that make you feel?" He asked her. Summer bit her lip and looked to Dillon. In some ways she didn't want to answer in front of him, but in other ways she knew that he had to know.
"I was afraid." She told him in a defeated sigh. He looked to Dillon, hoping he'd understand. "I know that Dillon would never take advantage, but something inside me is still afraid any time someone gets that close."
"Were you afraid?" Dr. Young asked.
"I was." She replied, before pulling him closer. "But it felt good."
"I'll always do what I can to make you feel good." Dillon assured her. "I love you."
"Well it sounds like you've made a lot of progress." Dr. Young told her. "I'd like to try something, I'd like to take you off your meds."
"You can't do that!" She shrieked, visibly shaking. "What about the dreams and...."
"That's exactly why I want to take you off the meds." He interrupted her. "I don't want you to be dependent on them. I want you to live a healthy life without those pills."
"I won't be able to sleep!" She snapped.
"You need to face your dreams." He told her. "You need to put Ronan behind you, and you can't do that unless you face it."
"I don't want to." Summer murmured, looking away from him. "I don't want to think about that."
"You have to." Dr. Young told her. "If you're ever going to move past what he did to you, you have to face it and deal with it."
"It's just so hard." She replied. "I almost killed Ziggy before I went on the meds."
"You can't use the meds as a crutch for the rest of your life." He told her. "You need to face this."
"I'll try." Summer replied, pulling into Dillon tightly. "I swear I'll try."
"Let me know how it works out." Dr. Young stated. "I'll pencil you in for next week, the day before the big ceremony."
"I guess a public event like that will be a good test." She sighed. "Maybe psycho girl won't have another fit in public."
"You shouldn't think like that." Dr. Young said reassuringly. "It's the same as any other injury or illness."
"I just wish people didn't keep staring at me wondering when I was going to snap again." Summer commented. "I'll try."
"I know you will." He replied. "I'll see you next week."
With that, they left the office in each other's arms. Summer hated the thought of living without the meds. It was like flying without a safety net, she had no idea of how she would cope with the dreams again. She had been on the meds and without any form of dream for a while now, so she was afraid of what could happen. She was afraid of the thought of having dreams again. She looked up at Dillon, and felt ashamed of her fear. She knew that in a lot of ways she was fortunate. Dillon knew next to nothing about his life before the implants. In many ways, even having memories was better than having nothing.
Colonel Truman was sitting in his office, sipping coffee when the door opened. Corporal Hicks knocked gently before entering.
"What is it?" He asked in a slightly bored, uninterested tone. Corporal Hicks came to his desk and saluted.
"Sir, I think I might have some information on the attack on your son that is important." He replied.
"Did you see it?" Colonel Truman asked.
"Of course not." He replied.
"Then what..."
"Sir, The White Rose exists." He said, interrupting his commanding officer.
Colonel Truman looked at him with a mixture of disgust and consideration.
"I'm not a member, I swear it!" He stated quickly. "I just know it exists."
"You're trying to tell me that The White Rose exists and you never did anything about it?" He asked.
"You know what it's like in the military." Corporal Hicks replied. "The only thing that's worse than desertion is ratting out the guys in your squad."
"So they exist?" Colonel Truman asked him. Corporal Hicks nodded.
"I was invited to join." He told him. "I refused, but I never reported the guy that invited me because I knew that I'd be labelled a rat."
"Corporal Hicks, my son was attacked!" Colonel Truman reminded him, "anything you can tell us about this..."
"The guy that invited me died in the Battle of Corinth." Hicks interrupted him. "Other than him, I have no idea who was involved."
"So The White Rose exists." Colonel Truman stated. "I guess we need to arrange a little more security for the ceremony."
"Sir..."
"If The White Rose exists, then they aren't going to let Scott and myself be honoured without incident." Colonel Truman told him. "They'll try to take us out."
"Sir, you have no idea who these people are." Corporal Hicks reminded him. "You can't keep track of everyone in the city!"
"Let me worry how we'll find the guy." Colonel Truman stated. "I won't live my life based on the fact someone doesn't like the colour of my skin. If The White Rose does exist, and does wish to make its voice heard, maybe they'll be brave enough to come into the open."