Fealdor tried to walk with confidence into Mesogog's lab. But the "gift" of Zeltrax's helmet had shaken him badly as he was sure it was intended to do. Only with this plan of draining ex-Ranger energy had Fealdor ever gained Mesogog's notice, and that was the way he always wanted it. Up until now only Elsa and Zeltrax, Mesogog's faithful lieutenants, had been in his inner circle - targets of his praise and his wrath. Fealdor had always hung in the background, waiting for his opportunity to present a foolproof plan to the Master. But Elsa's interference had disrupted his strategy; and Zeltrax's foolhardy impatience had nearly destroyed all that had been accomplished. Apparently, he had paid for that mistake.
Fealdor approached the doors of the lab sick with anticipation. It occurred to him that fleeing might be a good idea, then the motion sensors caused the doors to open on their own, and he had no choice but to enter. Fealdor tried to draw himself up and consciously tried to relax his shoulders, but he couldn't and they remained hunched as if anticipating a blow.
"Fealdor" rasped Mesogog hidden in shadows on his throne.
Fealdor twitched in response and moved closer. "Yes, my lord?" The shadows enclosing Mesogog moved and Fealdor could see him gesture for him to move closer. Fealdor looked warily at the throne and saw Elsa standing on Mesogog's left – she looked ill. Almost against his will, Fealdor inched closer until he could see Mesogog clearly.
"What have you to report, Fealdor?" Mesogog asked in a conversational growl, and tilted his head in inquiry.
Fealdor's heart began to hammer in his chest; all of his reptilian instincts to fight or flee were screaming at him to run. But he was caught in Mesogog's intense gaze and was compelled to answer.
"My lord, all was not lost when Zeltrax interfered." That seemed to be the best way to start – share what little good news there was. "The Yellow Ranger was indeed a phenomenal power source. What was taken from him has been stored and is still viable."
Fealdor stopped, hoping that would be enough to satisfy Mesogog, knowing in his heart that it was not.
"Was it enough?" Mesogog asked in that maddeningly conversational tone.
Fealdor swallowed hard. "No."
Mesogog tilted his head to the other side and leaned forward in his chair. "What are you going to do about that, Fealdor?"
It was the question he'd been dreading. He'd spent all afternoon in his own lab trying to come up with a solution, but he had nothing. Focus on the Rangers in your possession rather than on the ones you can't find he told himself.
"We still have the Yellow Ranger…" and he's not dead yet. Fealdor swallowed convulsively again. "I think we can…"
"You think?" Mesogog growled. "You think?!" He launched himself out of his throne and advanced on Fealdor. Fealdor rapidly backpedaled until he crashed into a console and had nowhere to go. He held his hands up in a futile warding-off gesture. "I have found that it can be dangerous when those around me start to think." He turned whip-quick toward Elsa. "Isn't that right, El -ssssa?" he purred.
"Yes, my lord." was her meek reply.
What is going ON here? Fealdor wondered. He'd never seen Elsa so cowed. Had Zeltrax's destruction affected her so profoundly?
Mesogog turned his attention back to Fealdor. He dipped his head to the side once more, and shot forward until he was as close as a lover telling an intimate secret.
His breath puffed hot and humid in Fealdor's ear. Fealdor tried not to cringe away.
"I've decided that not all of my underlings should be able to think for themselves. What do you think of my handiwork, Fealdor?"
From out of a dark corner of the lab, beyond the ruined life-force extractor, a figure stepped forward. Fealdor looked on it with dawning horror, because he recognized it. It was Zeltrax. But he had been …changed.
Mesogog hovered behind Fealdor, placing his hands on his shoulders, not allowing him to move away from the oncoming form. Zeltrax remained unchanged from the neck down – all of his body armor was intact and untouched. As he moved closer, Fealdor could see the changes that had been wrought after the removal of the helmet. He shuddered, but could not look away.
A grotesque parody of the former helmet had replaced the old. It was larger, much larger – so much so that Zeltrax seemed nearly ready to topple because of the imbalance. The larger helmet appeared to be cobbled together and was not enough to fully cover the grossly enlarged head. At some of the seams pink flesh squeezed through, trying to escape the confines of the metal surrounding it. Near the top of the helmet, grey not pink, could be seen, and it made Fealdor nauseous to think what was leaking through there.
Mesogog's finger's tightened on Fealdor's shoulders, and his fetid breath warmed Fealdor's face. "Now Zeltrax will be the perfect warrior. He will follow every order; be single minded in every mission. No distractions or impulsive displays of emotions because…I will be thinking for him."
Fealdor wanted to shriek in dismay. Was this what was waiting for him? As if reading his thoughts, Mesogog began to speak. "Now, now Fealdor." soothed Mesogog artificially, "It would hardly be feasible for me to have to think for all those around me. There is still much work for you to do."
Fealdor shuddered. Whether it was in relief or horror was hard to determine.
Mesogog released Fealdor. "Get your equipment," he stated. "It is time to pay our guests a visit."