Update: Originally I'd intended to post a new chapter every two weeks. Sadly, I have been unable to maintain that schedule. From now I'll be doing my best to get a new chapter up every twenty-one days, but I can make no promises.
Disclaimer: Obviously I own none of these characters
WARNING! I offer absolutely no guarantees, explicit or implicit, that this story will have a happy ending. If you're bothered by the prospect of evil triumphing, or of good triumphing for that matter, don't read this tale. For those with an open mind, enjoy!
Notes: This story is a sequel to the alternate universe tale, "And a Teenager Shall Lead Them." Please read that story first or you'll have no idea what's going on. If you have already read AATSLT then fasten your seatbelts because you're in for one twisty, bumpy ride to the end !
Timeline: This story begins one day prior to the final scene of AATSLT.
Finally, special thanks to everyone who reviewed AATSLT; without your glowing reviews this sequel would never have been written.
ΩΩΩΩΩ
William Cranston removed his glasses with one hand and rubbing wearily at his eyes with the other. He couldn't keep going for much longer; he was about to drop as it was. Where was the endless energy of youth and the ability to pull all-nighters he'd read about? Didn't college students his age do that all the time?
The cheery adage "You're only as old as you feel" flashed through the genius' mind and he snorted in tired amusement. If that were true, he was even older now than he'd been when his Regenerator's side-effect had propelled him into his eighties!
Sure, chronologically he remained a fit, healthy twenty-two year-old, but that certainly wasn't how he felt inside.
'How in the galaxy had Zordon managed to handle and cope with all of this?' Billy wondered for at least the thousandth time. He had always deeply respected the extra-dimensional entity, but it was only since trying to take his place that he had learned how extraordinarily difficult the role of the Rangers' mentor was, and how amazing Zordon had truly been.
Even in his tragic death Zordon had contributed towards saving the galaxy! His martyrdom at the claws of Dark Specter, coming on the heels of Earth's fall, had at last jolted the remaining free planets out of their complacency and pushed them into uniting against the UAE. The Galactic League of Light had been born, and their first official military action had been to retake the planet Eltar, in Zordon's memory.
A pair of slender arms suddenly wrapped themselves around the blond man's chest from behind, jolting him from his train of thought. With a sigh he leaned back into that embrace, a familiar voice whispering into his left ear.
"It is time for you to come to bed, my husband," Cestria breathed in the watery tones of an Aquitan.
"Just give me five more minutes," Billy wheedled.
"One of your researchers has already succumbed to slumber," Cestria observed, releasing him and pointing to his left.
Billy glanced along the leftward length of the console to see Cestro with his head resting on his folded arms, the computer screen before him dark as his skin.
"My other one's still awake," Billy argued, motioning toward the brown-haired boy seated to his right, whose eyes were locked on the computer screen and whose fingers danced deftly across the keyboard.
"He does not sleep," Cestria pointed out sternly, and they'd been married long enough that Billy didn't have to glance back at her to know there was a frown growing on her comely visage.
"Cestria's right, Billy," the apparent thirteen year-old chimed in as he turned toward them. "You should get some sleep. After all, you're only human," he finished with a sly grin.
Stranding up Billy reached out and violently ruffled the smart-aleck's artificial brown hair in mocking retaliation, making Justin laugh and duck away.
The twenty-two year-old genius knew when he was beaten, though, experience having taught him that once both of them were against him there was really no practical point in putting up any further resistance.
"Let me know in the morning if you're able to find out any more ancient Eltarian references to Morphin energy," he instructed his little protégé, and the android nodded eagerly.
Next Billy dropped a hand to Cestro's shoulder, the Blue Aquitian Ranger jerking awake at his touch.
"Time to get to bed, my friend," Billy told him gently.
Cestro nodded a bit sheepishly, getting to his feet and swiftly making his way to the room's only door.
Then Billy took Cestria's face in both of his hands, the tips of his fingers just brushing the bottom of the elaborate, tan, bumpy skull-cap all Aquitians wore, and he kissed her, pointedly ignoring the loud gagging noises coming from behind him.
Arm and arm the couple left the massive computer which took up the whole of the western well, passing the viewing globe and the teleporter controls standing in the center of the Command Chamber, and going out into the hall, walking the final few dozen feet to the front door of their living quarters.
After their lovemaking Cestria fell quickly asleep in Billy's arms, smiling contentedly. For him, in spite of his deep weariness, the peace of sleep was far more elusive. As happened almost every night now his mind was refusing to shut down. It kept whirling through various possibilities, linking scientific principles with ancient legends, postulating theories of vulnerabilities he hadn't yet explored, relentlessly seeking to craft a coherent, workable solution to the scourge of the Psycho Rangers.
Only the certainty that Justin would rat him out to Cestria in the morning kept Billy from getting out of bed and returning to the Command Chamber. If he couldn't sleep, why shouldn't he work? The beautiful, simple logic of that proposition, however, had weeks ago been defeated by his wife's stubborn insistence that once he went to bed, he stay there until morning. So he would, in the hopes that he might perhaps get to sleep at least soon enough to alleviate some of the exhaustion he was feeling before he rose again tomorrow.
Although he'd been teasing when he'd said it, Justin was right: Billy was only human. He needed sleep, sleep he hadn't been getting enough of for a long time. He'd considered taking sedatives, assuming he could find some which would work properly on his alien physiology (here on Aquitar he was the alien), but he feared they might end up temporarily dulling the mental acuity and intellect he relied upon so heavily.
'And what do you think being overtired is doing to you?' his mind asked in his wife's arch tone.
Yet he was so close! The answer was out there, somewhere just beyond his mental grasp; he was sure of it! Knowledge was power; Billy had believed in that dictum all of his life, with every atom of his being. All he had to do was discover that one more bit of knowledge, the one which would break this stalemate and end the threat of the Psycho Rangers forever.
He had to be the one to finish it, since he'd had a hand in creating it.
Billy unconsciously clung tighter to the love of his life as that unspeakable truth once more echoed through him. Guilt was a non-productive emotion, he'd told himself firmly over and over again. It changed nothing, but he couldn't help feeling it all the same, as he had ever since the liberation of Eltar by the Galactic League of Light.
During his last year on Earth he'd been working feverishly on a project which had consumed much of his time. He had told no one about his goal except Zordon and Alpha 5, and he hadn't been able to finally achieve it until he was on Aquitar, with access to that world's technological advances and information.
When he was sure his somewhat revolutionary new principles were sound and that his tiny prototype was functionally correctly, he had transmitted the schematics for the full-sized version, the morphers, and the Zords back to Earth.
It was his final parting gift to his friends and former teammates, by far the greatest of all his many inventions: a new source of Morphin power, one which when built would rival the Zeo Crystal itself in terms of energy output!
He had known his absence would be felt in the Power Chamber, that the lack of his technological know-how would seriously hurt the team; sending them his breakthrough was his way of at least partially making amends for his departure.
Zordon had arranged for the morphers and Zords to be assembled on Eltar and teleported to Earth. The new source of their power, the mighty, multi-story Turbo Turbine, had also been constructed on Eltar, since that was the safest place in the galaxy for it-or so everyone had believed.
When Dark Specter's forces had taken the planet they'd found and deactivated the Turbo Turbine, depriving the Earth Rangers of their powers. Thankfully soon after that they'd found Andros, gaining from him the Astro powers to replace their lost Turbo powers.
Two years later, when the GLL forces had retaken Eltar, Billy and his wife had been aboard the flagship, ready to work to salvage what technology and intelligence they could from the world. Delphine had sent for Billy before the fighting was fully finished, asking that he teleport to the massive palace the UAE had constructed on Eltar. The White Aquitan Ranger had assured a worried Cestria that the palace was secure and after he arrived Delphine had soon shown Billy why she had requested his presence.
At the heart of the palace was a throne room meant for the UAE's ruler. The beautiful white marble walls of the vast, stadium-sized chamber were blackened with numerous laser blasts, its floor strewn with Quantron parts and rubble; this was where Dark Specter's palace guard had made their last stand. The true area of interest, however, was not on the floor, but in the wall.
Built into the right wall near the thirty-foot tall throne was a kind of gruesome trophy case consisting of five differently colored metal doors, each with a huge circular transparent window set in the upper half. Only these niches didn't contain sports awards; they held the bodies of five Rangers.
Even now he could remember the terrible shock he'd felt at the sight of a dark, dead face which only a few weeks ago he'd seen on his laboratory viewscreen. The Blue Astro Ranger had commed Billy from Earth, desperate for help, and he had done the best he could to aid T.J. and Cassie. Had T.J. already been found and killed so soon, his corpse brought here for Dark Specter to display and gloat over?
Billy had instinctively looked away and in the viewing portal of the next door he had spotted Cassie with her head cleaved in two, interior circuitry visible in both halves.
That was when he'd realized with a rush of relief that these weren't humans beings exhibited in grisly triumph; they were androids.
"I though you might be able to do something for them," Delphine had explained, her tone a mixture of apology and a touching, humbling faith that he had the skills to somehow fix even this.
He'd had no chance to answer, since word had come at that moment that League forces penetrating the subterranean bunker housing the massive Turbo Turbine had discovered that it was still running!
Learning his invention was still operating had come as a second shock. He'd figured the UAE had destroyed it or at best had left it to gather dust once they'd turned it off.
When he got to the bunker he examined the controls carefully and soon determined that the turbine was sending energy to five active morphers in various places on Earth.
Most of the Rangers of Earth were gone, and they hadn't been using the Turbo powers anymore anyway. So what could-
Then it had hit him, harder than any blow he'd ever taken. The Psycho Rangers, the dark counterparts who had destroyed most of the Astro Ranger and made the conquest of Earth possible. They were drawing power from HIS invention!
Billy's next action had been to run the abbreviated emergency shutdown procedure, his hands trembling and his head pounding. He had been consumed by the drive, no, by the need, to stop those monsters from continuing to utilize his ideas and inventions for their own twisted ends.
When the Turbine at last spun to a halt his deep and overwhelming sense of shamed guilt had been briefly eclipsed by a primal, savage satisfaction. Let's see how the Psycho Rangers liked that!
He'd gone back to the palace then, to thoroughly examine the remains of the fallen Robot Rangers.
T.J. had been intact from the mid-chest upward, but that portion of him rested on an interior shelf in his alcove. The rest of him was in pieces at the bottom of the capsule, having been blown apart by some sort of explosion.
In addition to a badly damaged left arm, Cassie had been split entirely in two lengthwise.
Carlos' head had been crushed almost to the thickness of a sheet of paper and he was missing the ends of both arms.
Justin had taken a laser blast to the chest, one powerful enough to melt a fist-sized hole through him. A steel spur from the wall jutted out grotesquely through that hole, keeping his shorter body suspended in his alcove at the same eye-level height as the other Rangers.
Ashley had been hit directly in the abdominal power source with some kind of piercing weapon and had gone offline almost at once, leaving her the least damaged of the five.
He had spent days thoroughly mapping out their operating systems, examining the intact portions of each one in order to develop and draw up a complete composite design schematic of a functioning, intact android. When he was sure he understood the hardware behind them he began studying and scrutinizing their software, their programming and memory.
Fifteen days after he had first laid eyes on them he replaced Ashley's power source and rebooted her. The rest of the Robot Rangers followed, as quickly as he could repair them. By then Cestro, the Blue Aquitar Ranger, had been free to help him, the Rangers having finished their task of seeking out and destroying the last pockets of resistance on Eltar.
Billy by then knew what had happened, given his perusal of Ashley's memory banks. Dmitria had developed and created these androids, fashioning them to be exact replicas of the second Turbo team, not only in terms of appearance, but also mentally. With her Rangers' consent she had copied their minds into these artificial forms and entrusted them with newly built Turbo morphers. There had even been a test run on Earth to make sure everything was functioning properly. Then the Robot Rangers had been shipped to Eltar to aid in the defense of the planet. They'd been there when the United Alliance of Evil had descended in numbers too overwhelming to resist. They'd resisted anyway, and had been destroyed for it.
He could easily hypothesize what had come next. The Robot Rangers' morphers had been stripped from their remains. The devices must have been altered extensively, but clearly they were still powered at least in part by the Turbo Turbine. Those changed morphers had then been used to create the Psycho Rangers.
In an indirect and unforeseen way, Billy's present to the heroic protectors of his home planet had ended up killing most of them and ensuring the brutal conquest Earth.
This grim realization had nearly broken him. Without Cestria's unwavering support and the urgent imperative of rebuilding the Robot Rangers he honestly didn't know if he would have made it.
He had loved Cestria from almost the moment he had laid eyes on her; she was the whole reason he had chosen to stay on Aquitar. And apart from the fact that the five androids deserved more for their heroism than violent deactivation, the Galactic League of Light needed the help of the Robot Rangers
Because the Psycho Rangers would be coming.
Not immediately, not after Billy had shut off what he hoped was their primary power source. By doing so he had bought the GLL some much needed time, but no more than that. Sooner or later the UAE leadership would find a new source of energy for their champions. Then the Aquitan Rangers would be up against the team who had already slain most of the Astros. Billy wasn't about to let them face that kind of threat alone, not if he could help it.
He and Cestro had worked day and night for months rebuilding the fallen Rangers. They'd largely succeeded, but some things simply couldn't be fixed. Cassie had suffered a serious loss of memory and almost nothing on Carlos' main drive had been salvageable. The two were still able to act as Rangers, but Carlos' personality had been effectively lost and Cassie had what amounted to partial amnesia.
The other three Rangers had been devastated by seeing their teammates' fates, more so than by their own "deaths". T.J had taken out his feelings in training and sparring, Ashley had taken to looking after the two in spite of the pain it had caused her, and Justin had spent his time developing a new separate memory storage system to "back up" his, Cassie's, Ashley's and T.J's central processors.
Billy had never had the pleasure of meeting the "human" Justin Stewart, a fact he increasingly regretted the more he came to know the robotic version of the boy. In several ways he was almost painfully like Billy at that age: the genius IQ, the startling mechanical and technical aptitude, even the seeming inability to connect with others of his own age, or at least of his apparent age.
In other ways, however, he was completely different, like in his hunger for a father figure and in the bright, childish enthusiasm which shone out as such an integral part of him. Taking Justin under his wing had been so easy and natural Billy had barely realized he was doing it, not until one night at dinner when Cestria had jokingly asked him what he and his "lab assistant" had worked on today.
With Justin and Cestro's capable aid Billy had assembled five new Turbo morphers in record time and had reset the Turbo Turbine to emit on a different frequency than before. He had personally asked each android if they were willing to be a Ranger again, and each one had acquiesced. He had given them their new morphers and the Robot Rangers had rejoined the ranks of the defenders of the galaxy.
Integrating them with the Aquitan Rangers had proven to be a more difficult undertaking, however. Not due to any real antipathy between the two groups, but merely because they were so different.
The telepathy which Aquitans used for so much of their interaction was useless in communicating with the Robot Rangers. The Robot Rangers, for their part, were adapting to a whole new society and species, and as mechanical beings they were understandably uneasy about living in a fortress located beneath the surface of an ocean and replete with pools of water everywhere (Which was why the first modification Billly had made to them subsequent to their reactivation was to cover up the exposed inner workings in their chest area with a layer of impermeable synthetic skin).
As a human who had nonetheless chosen to live out his life on Aquitar, who had rebuilt the Robot Rangers, and who had won the respect of the Aquitan Rangers years prior, Billy quickly realized he was the being best situated to act as a bridge between the two groups, to advance their understanding of each other.
How this had led to him slipping into the role of mentor to the united team was something his genius intellect was to this day still struggling to understand.
He'd always thought of himself as the tech support. Thus it was only natural for him to construct a new Viewing Globe, develop a cloaking device based on the Phantom Ranger's technology, and maintain the teleporter, Battle Borgs, even the Robot Rangers themselves! This was his realm of expertise and he was quite comfortable there. He was far from comfortable acting as the guiding force of the GLL's only hope, but he did it, because the Rangers wanted him to, because his wife continually encouraged him to, and because . . . there was no one else. Not anymore.
Zordon was dead, his energy drained away by Dark Specter. Dimitria was also gone, having died resisting the invasion of Eltar. Ninjor too was dead, slain by the Red Psycho Ranger almost a half a year ago now in his own temple. He was literally all that was left, worthy of the position or not.
The galaxy's losses since the war began had been truly staggering. Millions of beings had been killed, entire planets conquered and enslaved. His own homeworld had fallen to occupation, with only two Astro Rangers left there in hiding to try to turn the tide.
The GLL had won victories too: the liberation and continued safety of Eltar, the capture and imprisonment of Divatox, the blowing up of Sprocket. Yet the war raged on regardless.
Billy was certain the key to bringing the conflict to a close lay with the Rangers, Light and Psycho both.
Many would dispute his conclusion, arguing that in a war of tens of thousands, a mere handful of fighters on either side could not possibly have any real effect on the outcome, but those people didn't have access to the same information Billy did.
Few the Rangers indeed were, but each was the wielder of great power. In the vanguard of an invading or defending army they acted as an incredible force multiplier, enormously enhancing their side's ability to deal damage.
And the morale effect of the Rangers' presence was virtually incalculable! The faith and trust that the peoples of the Galactic League of Light put in their Rangers was matched only by their terror of the Psycho Rangers. And on the UAE side the Psycho Rangers performed a key role in suppressing treachery and dissent among the Alliance's many ambitious leaders, while also keeping the conquered subject populations fearful and compliant.
Billy had run countless simulations and statistical analysis programs over the past two years, every computer model bearing out what he had suspected from the beginning: Whichever side lost their Rangers would almost certainly lose everything. At its most basic and fundamental level, this galaxy-spanning struggle was in reality a Ranger war.
Only days ago it had seemed that the UAE's loss of the Psycho Rangers might finally be at hand. Even with the destruction of the Blue Senturion and the Phantom Ranger obviously unavailable for combat, the Light Rangers and the Gold Ranger had bested the UAE's foul doppelgangers time and again, dispatching their accompanying monsters and forcing the Psycho Rangers' masters to pull them from the field in defeat. Victory had appeared inevitable, so much so that for over two months the Psycho Rangers hadn't even so much as shown their helmets!
Then only ten days ago there came the sudden, overwhelming assault on Triforia while Trey was there, putting an end to the hope of imminent triumph-and putting an end to the noble Gold Ranger as well. That the GLL had been able to retake half a dozen planets and seize a sizeable advantage in naval positioning and numbers seemed scant comfort for the loss of their most powerful ally and his homeworld. It was all the more agonizing because the apparently abrupt nature of the decision had led to the invasion occurring before his source could get word of it to him.
He had anticipated that the Psycho Rangers would then assail the Light Rangers to exploit their momentum, but according to his most recent intelligence the Psychos were remaining on Triforia. At least they were all there except for the Blue Psycho Ranger; there was no hint as to where he was; in fact he'd been missing since the Psychos' last battle with the Light Rangers.
That bit of data worried Billy deeply. Given the meaning of the various colors even among the Psycho Rangers, the Blue one was the enemy he least wanted to be out of his sight!
What was the UAE planning? And would he and the Light Rangers be able to successfully counter whatever scheme was in the works?
With a sigh he opened his eyes. As they adjusted to the dark Billy gazed at the varying shades of blue spread throughout the room, allowing the sight to soothe him and hopefully bring him a step closer to at least a troubled sleep.
ΩΩΩΩΩ
Reclining on his comfortable bed Justin Stewart, the Blue Psycho Ranger, was leisurely perusing Sun-Tzu's "The Art of War".
It was amazing how applicable much of Sun Tzu's advice remained, many centuries after it had been written. It was fortunate indeed that the brilliant strategist had lived so long ago; had he been alive today Justin would have needed to kill him as a simple precaution.
The Blue Psycho Ranger's idle musings were interrupted when the door to his room slid open. A tall teen in a sleeveless, shimmering golden shirt, black jeans, and custom black and gold sneakers entered, looking down on the six foot two, muscular, blue-clad and brown-haired adolescent.
"Done," Fred announced. "I put my dad right next to yours, just like we planned."
"Good," Justin complimented him, memorizing his page number and shutting the book. "Did you have any problems?"
"No," the Gold Psycho Ranger replied. After a brief pause he asked, "This was necessary, right?"
"Absolutely," Justin affirmed as he sat up on his bed. "Thanks to Stone my Dad knew too much and it only made sense to take care of yours at the same time rather than leave him running around Angel Grove. Better safe than sorry, Fred."
"I guess so," the seventeen year-old concurred, his right leg stretching back behind him to hook a chair and bring it forward in one easy, athletic motion. Dropping into it he began to voice his objection. "It's just . . . "
"Go on," Justin encouraged him.
"I don't even know if he's going to like Miami."
"Like it or not, it's the best place for him. There's zero rebel activity there, almost no occupying presence, he's got credits enough to last him a lifetime, and he's got my Dad in the condo next to him for company. They can reminisce together about their heroic rebel sons."
A snort of laughter escaped Fred before he could help it. That description had been true of him only a week ago, but thanks to Justin he was on the winning side now.
Unfortunately that wasn't something Dad would be able to understand, anymore than Justin's dad could. Hence the elaborate facade of them separately "rescuing" their fathers from the UAE and bringing the two safely to Miami to live under alternate identities. It gave the fathers a plausible reason for their boys' absence, kept them away from rebel involvement, and, with the concealing wizardry Justin had pulled off with the central computer, put them safely out of reach of anyone who might want to use them against the two Psycho Rangers. Later, after the war was won, maybe they could open their fathers' eyes the same way his own and Justin's had been. For now this would have to do.
"I gotta say, though, this was a whole lot less fun than fooling Cassie," Fred commented ruefully.
"It'll always be more fun to trick someone you hate," Justin pointed out logically. "Tomorrow should be the most fun of all, though."
"Why? What's happening?"
"Now that we're done here we'll leave tomorrow at eight A.M. from the spaceport with the next shipment of Quantrons bound for Triforia and the Dark Fortress. Once the entire team is assembled we'll be able to strike at the Light Rangers."
"Why aren't we teleporting to Triforia?" the new Psycho Ranger asked curiously.
"Because teleportation beams can be detected, traced, and sometimes even interfered with," Justin explained. "We try not to do interplanetary teleporting unless we have to. It's safer and subtler to take a ship. As a wise man once said, war is deception," he declared, holding up The Art of War.
The seventeen year-old nodded in understanding as Justin went on.
"Hopefully by this time tomorrow we'll have slaughtered the Light Rangers. You ready to stomp some tin cans and gut some fish?"
"More than ready," Fred asserted to his friend, his expression one of rapt, eager anticipation. Thanks to his neural net Fred loathed the Light Rangers as much as any other Psycho, and he was obviously dying to figuratively flex his new muscles for the whole of the UAE to see.
"Better make sure my skills are up to the challenge, though," he continued unexpectedly. "Feel like sparring again?" the darker-haired boy invited with a wicked grin.
Justin frowned in reply, unconsciously wincing at the invitation. He'd won their first sparring match in the mountains, but that had been before Fred had assumed the mantle of the Gold Psycho Ranger. Every time they'd fought since then the now-empowered Fred had beaten Justin with humiliating ease. The Gold Psycho Ranger powers were insanely potent and Fred's almost instant expertise in using them was nothing short of remarkable!
Again Justin wondered irritably why Dark Specter had thought it necessary to modify the Gold Ranger's staff rather than using the spare Blue Morpher. They could have taken the Light Rangers with just a normal Psycho Ranger addition; they didn't need a fucking Super-Psycho!
And he didn't need to be battered into insensibility again and again as Fred gloatingly flaunted his newfound might either! He could only be thankful that he'd had the foresight to give Fred a neural net like his own rather than the standard template; the thought of Fred with the overwhelming bloodlust, violent rage, and notable lack of self-control of a standard Psycho Ranger was enough to make even Justin squirm uncomfortably.
"How about a game of chess instead?" he challenged, and now it was the young Kelman's turn to scowl.
After the other boy's neural net was implanted he had required time to come to grips with his altered feelings, to abandon his old ways of thinking. That he would do so was never in doubt; in fact it was inevitable! Emotions were the motivating fire of humanity, and Fred's flame had burned particularly bright. The passionate intensity which had led him to dedicate his life to freeing humanity had simply been redirected to the pursuit of his own enjoyment. With his conscience gone, with violent hate for his old companions and all rebels inserted into his mind and with a dozen other emotional modifications in place it was impossible for even the strong-willed seventeen year-old to hold on to his former allegiances. How could he, when he utterly despised them now?
Justin had both eased and sped the transformation by introducing Fred to all of the many pleasures a champion of the United Alliance of Evil could expect, the first being a sumptuous celebratory feast. After days of intravenous feeding, the dark-haired teen had ravenously devoured the delicious food set before him. His new accommodations were of the highest quality, done in a psychologically pleasing gold and black color scheme with pure silk sheets covering the cloud-soft mattress of his king-sized bed.
That bed had seen a lot of use in the past week. Since the new Psycho Ranger had not yet been ready to select his own choices from among Earth's population, Justin had, in an act of true friendship, gritted his teeth and shared his harem with his ally. Fred had enjoyed that a lot.
They'd also indulged in a variety of sports and games, Fred's competitive streak, natural adeptness, and Psycho-enhancements making him a more than worthy opponent in almost all arenas-except that of chess. He had never played the game before, while Justin had played frequently with his father. He was admittedly a bit rusty, not having sat behind a chess board for years, but he had still demolished his new friend in less than twenty moves.
The power-packed teens glared heatedly at one another for a moment.
"Mortal Kombat?" Fred offered at last.
"Deal!" Justin agreed, setting Sun-Tzu's book on his nightstand and rolling off his bed to get out the controllers.
ΩΩΩΩΩ