Chapter Seventy-five

A Brush with Destiny

"My boys!" Trini called, dancing into the video game store and giving the guys behind the counter a little wave.

"Trini!" the three guys exclaimed, waving enthusiastically at her. "Where you been?" one of them asked.

"Had to take video games off the budget for the next few weeks if Jason and I wanted to take our vacations this week," Trini told them. "Jason's vacation isn't paid."

"If you're on vacation, what are you doing in the Grove?" a guy asked. "Don't you usually go do some crazy athletic thing?"

"Just because you don't scuba dive doesn't mean it's a crazy thing to do," Trini said firmly. "Guys, this is Billy—my best friend and a total god when it comes to anything electronic—and Ethan, gamer and hacker extraordinaire and urban legends junkie."

"I'm George."

"Phil."

"John."

"So you're not buying anything today?" George asked Trini. "Because I finally found a copy of that game you wanted…"

"I'm not, but Billy is. Billy here has been living in, um, Amish country for the past few years and doesn't have a single video game. We need the best of everything."

They stared at her in shock for a moment. "As in games or systems?" Phil asked slowly.

"As in everything. He needs a complete gaming library. Every good thing to hit the shelves in the past, say, six years?"

They continued to stare, as if Trini, Billy and Ethan were bathed in golden light and surrounded by angels playing one of Mozart's symphonies on harps. "Budget?" John whispered.

"Not currently applicable," Billy told him. "Although I assume I will be limiting myself at some point, I don't wish to impose any restrictions ahead of time. Oh, and add two copies of whatever that game Trini wanted to my tab."

The three clerks scattered for the shelves, chattering excitedly about the merits of each system and arguing about game after game. Trini and Ethan each added to their input, advising Billy of the pros and cons of each individual game and system.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Ethan murmured as the clerks started a third pile on the counter. "I mean, spending all your money in one place…"

"Informing Kimberly that I went over-budget on video games will prevent her from going too over-budget on clothing," Billy replied. "Besides, I plan to invest a good deal of my remaining money, with Trini's help."

"Yeah, but, you don't even know if you'll be able to use these back on Aquitar."

"I'll find a way. That's what I'm good at. If I can't… well, hopefully Trini will return them for me, because if I had to do it… I imagine these guys might sob if all of these items had to be refunded."

"Well, make sure you don't open more games than you have to until you've made sure you can make it work, or you're going to be out a few thousand dollars."

"Why?"

"You can't refund games if you open them."

"What? Why not?"

Ethan stared at him. "Dude… you do know what piracy is, don't you?"

"Yes…"

"But to Billy it still conjures up images of a boat in the Caribbean," Trini explained. "Napster wasn't even all that well-known until… what was it? 1999? 2000?"

"What happened to this planet?" Billy demanded.

Ethan shrugged. "It's a long story."

"What about PC games?" Phil called from a far corner of the store.

"No, no, only video games," Trini replied.

"Why not get him a computer?" Ethan asked.

"No point, really. It's not like he could link up to our Internet," Trini explained. "Everything he'd need a computer for, he has on Aquitar, except for games, and he can get them through video game consoles. I don't think we should spend four or five hundred dollars on a computer just to play a few more games, especially since most of the good ones are on less expensive systems anyway."

"I miss conventional keyboards," Billy said with a distant look in his eye. "The way the keys feel when your fingers come down on them…"

"The click of a mouse…" Ethan added.

"The hum of a monitor…" Trini continued.

The three trailed off into silence, staring into space with reminiscent expressions on their faces. Then Billy sighed heavily. "I really should come back. I'm sure I could find employment if I did…"

"Why don't you?" Ethan asked curiously.

Billy smiled. "I have a life on Aquitar. I've got friends that I care about and I do a lot of good across the galaxy, mediating disputes, bailing out planets in trouble… sometimes I even get to fly a spaceship to protect a planet from invaders. I interfere in intergalactic wars now. It's not something I want to give up. Not to mention Cestria, who I love… sometimes it sounds crazy, to think of returning to Earth and being a civilian, tinkering away in my garage and playing video games or basketball… but sometimes it's what I want."

"Billy," Trini said softly, "we're not getting any younger. They might not age on Aquitar, but we all will. We all have careers now, and soon we'll probably all have families. We're running out of youth, out of time to enjoy each other's company the way we used to. If you want to stay, we'll understand, but life here isn't meaningless. Friends, family, us… it might not be rescuing aliens from dictators in an intergalactic war, but it isn't meaningless. If you don't want to leave Aquitar, don't let it be because you're afraid of letting people down. They'll understand, and there will always be someone to carry the torch for you. Ethan here is proof of that."

Ethan smiled, figuring he might as well try to lighten the mood. "Besides… we have video games."

"Seriously?" Kira asked incredulously.

"Yep. Dozens of little bitty braids," Kimberly confirmed. "He had to sit still for hours while I braided. Of course, I didn't have enough rubber bands to do all those braids… but I did have a big spool of pink ribbon."

"So that's how his hair got full of bows."

"Yep. I mean, I could have just knotted them, but bows were just… I couldn't resist."

"So he was really mortified when he found out what you'd done to his hair?"

"Oh, no. Well, yeah, a little bit, but the real horror came when everyone else found out. See, I was just teasing him about how cute he looked when our communicators went off."

Kira winced. "Oh, no."

"Uh-huh. We were the first ones to get there and of course the Putty Patrol is chasing these little kids all over the playground. So, get this—Tommy runs in, pulls one of them off a little boy, and tells the kid to run. And the kid responds with—'Thanks, lady!'"

Kira burst out laughing. "Oh, my god! That's great!"

Kimberly nodded, snickering. "Tommy stared at him, all offended, and then a Putty kicked him into a tire swing. After that, Tommy forgot all about his hair while the two of us kicked some butt. By the time the others showed up, we'd already morphed. So we kicked the monster's ass in, like, three seconds flat, which freed all the kids trapped in its box thingy, and then we killed it again in our zords, and then we all went back to the park and demorphed. And there's Tommy, surrounded by his four best friends, staring at him, and for the longest time he can't figure out why, and I'm trying not to laugh…"

"What'd he do when he remembered?"

"Flung his shirt over his head. Bad move, really. We might've been able to keep from laughing if he hadn't done that. The White Ranger, leader of the Power Rangers, with his hair full of pink bows and the improvisational equivalent of a bag over his head. We laughed ourselves sick. Tommy eventually had to just wander off. Of course, he left the shirt over his head and bashed into a tree four seconds later…"

"I don't think I'll ever look at Dr. O the same way again if you keep this up," Kira groaned, clutching her stomach. "It's so hard to think of him as a goofy teenager, let alone with bows in his hair."

"Don't worry, Kira, I've got plenty of imagery to go around," Kimberly told her. "Anyway, I was never allowed to touch Tommy's hair after that. At least, not with the intention of styling it. From what I understand, he saves that for people who've gone to cosmetology school. Well, except for that bit with Hayley… but, well, that was because of the whole fire and tomato sauce thing…"

"Do what now?"

Kimberly's face lit up. "You haven't heard that story, either?"

"No. I told you, Dr. O doesn't tell us a whole lot about his past. I knew more than Conner, Trent or Ethan, from sorting through Dr. O's personal files to help him do inventory and asking questions about random things, but all I really knew was that he used to work for Trent's dad and that he raced stock cars, things like that. General stuff. I think I would remember hair, fire and tomato sauce."

Kimberly grinned. "Oh, Kira, by the time I'm through, you'll know everything there is to know about Tommy. Starting with the most embarrassing stuff I can think of and working down to the sappiest."

"You're evil," Kira told her. "So… go ahead. Spill."

"So where to next?" Zack asked. Tommy, Jason and Zack were riding the escalator to the second floor, still glowing from their bit of revenge on the T-shirt store clerk.

"I need to knock Kimberly around," Tommy said as they leaped one by one off the escalator's platform.

"Aw, come on," Zack complained. "This is us. The three of us. In the mall. You can do that anytime."

"I've got until Sunday, Zack," Tommy pointed out. "And we'll be spending Saturday dealing with… other things."

"We really should figure out what we're going to do tomorrow," Jason said idly. "Not to mention tonight. I mean, even Kimberly has to leave the mall when it closes."

"We should probably write those speeches," Tommy said. "And maybe swing by the park and check out the setup for Power Rangers Day. And it'd be nice to go to the lake, just hang out and stuff…"

"And try to put the moves on Kimberly," Zack teased.

"The thought had crossed my mind," Tommy admitted with an unrepentant grin. "So. Come on. I have to hit her with something. Any ideas?"

"You're the evil mastermind," Jason told him.

"You know, you were the last one of us to go evil," Tommy pointed out dryly.

"For less than a half hour," Jason shot back. "And all I did was try to throw you in a lava pit and strangle you a bit and beat up your friends. You wrecked the Command Center, gave Alpha a virus, tried to beat us up several times—"

"Guys, guys, don't fight!" Zack cut in, adopting an overly dramatic tone. "Honest, guys, you're both evil in my book! Can't we all just be friends?"

"Shut up, Zack," Jason and Tommy said in unison, both of them grinning and shaking their heads.

"Okay," Tommy said reluctantly. "I guess I'll hit Kimberly later or—"

"Heads up," Jason muttered quietly, nodding slightly at something behind Tommy. Tommy turned. Kira and Kimberly were exiting a nearby accessory store, Kimberly's arms full of shopping bags and Kira clutching a grand total of two bags. They were laughing loudly; Kimberly had a mischievous look about her, while Kira's expression was more incredulous. Tommy's instincts began to shout that something was very horribly wrong. Had he the option of conversing with his instincts, he would have replied with, "Duh."

"Oh, hi," Kimberly said, her voice sickeningly cheerful and her lips quirking into a smirk at the sight of Tommy, Jason and Zack. "How's it going?"

"Fine," Tommy replied cautiously. "You two having fun?"

"Lots of fun," Kira gasped out, struggling to rein in her laughter. "Everything's great—Cinnamon Buns."

Icy tendrils of dread shot through Tommy faster than a growing monster. She knew. Kira knew. Kimberly told her. Despite the numerous threats, Tommy had never really thought that his friends would stoop so low as to inform his students of the less than admirable parts of his past.

"Bye, guys," Kimberly said, waving at him triumphantly before ushering Kira towards an escalator. Tommy could have sworn he heard the words "Tomato sauce" and "Hayley" before they disappeared from view.

Eyes narrowing in fury, he turned back to Jason and Zack. Both had their fists over their mouths, though their hands couldn't quite disguise their grins. They were looking at the floor in opposite directions, obviously knowing better than to look at him or each other just then, or they'd burst out laughing and get maimed by Tommy. Tommy took a deep, shuddering, calming breath, ignoring the slight tremors going through his best friends' shoulders as they struggled to gain control of their mirth.

"I am going to get her. Somehow. Now."

"We're with you," Jason muttered with difficulty, voice muffled by his fist.

"All the way," Zack agreed, a snort of suppressed laughter escaping in spite of himself.

"Aww, aren't you cute. You're a big killer dog, aren't you? Yes you are!"

Trent rolled his eyes. He didn't know what had possessed him to allow Conner to drag him into the pet store. Apparently Conner hadn't been able to own a pet ever since that time he and Eric had fed their neighbor's dog a seven-layer chocolate cake, but he had a fondness for cats and, even though he wasn't a dog person, he seemed to enjoy puppies. And hamsters, and ferrets, and parakeets…

Trent moved to a circular display, which was divided into sections with plastic barriers. In each section was a different brand of rodent—guinea pig, gerbil, mouse, hamster. He stared at the hamsters, watching them wander around, nibbling and sniffing. He wondered what it would be like to be a hamster, stuck in a cage all day, hanging with other hamsters, waiting for some faceless giant to decide the hamster's destiny and if it lived out the rest of its days in a too-small, unclean cage with just a wheel and a water bottle or if it got a whole hamster habitat with tubes and colors and maybe even one of those ball thingies so it could go explore the whole house…

"Hey!" Conner called to the girl behind the counter. "Can I hold one of these gerbils?"

Trent glanced up at the sign on the display, which said one had to ask permission and be eighteen to handle the animals, but as the disinterested shopkeeper called out a vague affirmative without paying attention to Conner at all, Trent decided not to bother saying anything and went back to staring at the hamsters.

People were a lot like hamsters, really. Mindlessly living out their lives, running in their wheels, finding nourishment, making more hamsters without any real regard for whether or not the little hamsters would be born into the right environment. Then someone came along, some higher power, plucked the hamster from obscurity and gave it a new life, slightly different from the pet store but not enough that the hamster would really notice because if it just got the small, dirty cage it had bigger problems to worry about and if it got the cool habitat and the ball thingy it was too busy living it up to notice if—

Wait. Conner wanted to hold the gerbils. But Conner was not near the gerbil display. Where was Conner, and how did he get a gerbil?

Trent's head snapped up. The first thing he saw was the girl at the counter, reading a magazine, not paying the slightest attention to Conner… who was cuddling a gerbil while standing in front of a row of cages. One of which was open. And no longer containing gerbils.

Trent looked down. A gerbil zoomed by his foot and disappeared around the corner. Trent stared at the blank spot where it had once been, unable to accept the fact that once again, they'd managed to have one of those moments that Should Not Happen to Normal People.

He looked back up at Conner in fury for causing this mess… and discovered that Conner now had not one but two creatures in his hands and another cage was rapidly emptying of hamsters.

"Okay, Mr. Mongolian Gerbil," Conner said happily, "meet Ms. Syrian Hamster!"

Trent's facial expression had previously only appeared on cartoon characters. He knew he needed to intervene before Mr. Gerbil and Ms. Hamster joined their escaped friends, but he just couldn't bring himself to move. Moving would make this all real. And it couldn't be real. This didn't happen to Trent. Trent was normal.

Trent realized now that he was sitting in that too-small, unclean cage, the water bottle a little too high and the wheel a little too squeaky and that kid never played with him and every time they put him in that ball thingy he always ended up rolling down the stairs and getting lost in the basement for three weeks or at the very least chased around by the vicious family Doberman. Whatever higher power had invested in Trent's destiny, they weren't willing to spring for a habitat with colored tubes. But they were willing to spring for a couple more hamsters. Hamsters who thought it was fun to antagonize the Doberman and that the basement was an adventure when all Trent really wanted was to curl up in the corner of his cage and wait until his hamster existence ended because surely the next incarnation would be a whole lot better and he'd get to be some sort of faceless giant himself, one who would put all its hamsters in cool habitats with colored tubes and clean the cages regularly and make sure little kids played with them but didn't squeeze too tight and there were no basement stairs…

Suddenly Trent couldn't take it anymore. Trent couldn't accept the fact that faceless giants had shipped him off to the too-small cage with nothing to look forward to but the basement stairs. Trent couldn't let the horrible process of hamster-destiny-purchasing continue. The hero in him simply wouldn't allow it.

Trent wheeled around and grabbed hold of the piece of plastic separating his fellow hamsters from creating their own destiny. With one loud snap, the divider came off in his hands, and Trent whisked it through the air with a flourish.

"To freedom, my brethren!" Trent screamed. "To freedom, and a destiny that you alone create!"

He stood there for a long moment, divider clutched tightly in his hand, held high above the hamsters… who continued to mindlessly wander around their habitat, climbing around on each other, sleeping in little balls, nibbling their pellets…

Trent frowned. Then he glared. "I said to freedom, my brethren!" Trent shouted, and began grabbing them one by one and putting them on the floor, glowering at the ones who'd been curled into balls and clearly would prefer to sleep than rush out into the world on their own.

Someone coughed behind him. Trent glanced over his shoulder. The girl at the register was still engrossed in her magazine, used to people making dumb jokes about freedom to animals stuck in cages. A glance over the other shoulder revealed Conner, staring at him in confusion, the gerbil and hamster still in his hands.

If there is one thing on the planet that will bring a person back from the brink of insanity, it is someone like Conner staring at said person as if they're insane. For when a Conner-type—someone not too bright unless they put their mind to it, with a healthy dose of insanity wired into their very being—has a good, logical reason for staring at someone as if they're insane, that someone knows it's way past time to worry about their own mental health.

Trent looked down at the sleepy hamster in his hands, who was thoroughly nonplussed that the stupid giant had woken him up. Then he looked back up at the cages Conner had opened and left unattended, both of which were now completely devoid of life. Finally, he turned to the shopkeeper… who probably wasn't going to remain oblivious for long.

"We need to get out of here," Trent whispered, carefully depositing the poor sleepy hamster back in the broken display.

"Gee, do you think?" Conner hissed, giving Trent a reprimanding glare that later would strike Trent as ludicrous, though right now a little thing like Conner glaring at him for purposefully committing Conner's accidental crime on a smaller scale couldn't quite make the ludicrous meter.

Trent swallowed and slowly stood up. Gerbils and hamsters alike were racing all over the place. A few were darting purposefully for the exit, but most were wandering around, probably trying to find the water bottle.

"Step. Carefully," Trent whispered. Conner nodded and the two began cautiously heading for the door, on the other side of the shelves from the shopkeeper, putting as little of their shoes down with each step as possible. They still had twelve feet to go when a little girl and her mother approached the shop and stopped dead at the sight of the rodent-covered floor.

"Look, Mommy—rats!"

The mother screamed. The clerk looked up at them, then tossed her magazine to the side and jumped to her feet—lazy she might be, but people screaming because of rats while still standing safely outside the store and looking in with expressions of horror and awe was cause for instant alarm.

She leaned over the counter, eyes widening at the sight of the escaped rodents now running wildly throughout the store. Then her head jerked up, and her eyes landed on Conner and Trent.

"You," she snarled.

"RUN!" Trent bellowed, but Conner was already a step ahead of him.

Unfortunately, they really couldn't run on a floor covered in gerbils and hamsters, not unless they wanted to squish a cute, furry creature with their shoes. They took to careful but frantic hops to relatively clear spots, almost landing on a hamster here, almost overbalancing there, the mother screaming in horror and clutching her daughter to her, the shopkeeper screaming for security and dialing her manager on the phone.

"Conner! How did I let you get me into this?" Trent complained as they finally jumped out of the store, where the rodent population was a lot less dense, allowing them to run flat-out down the corridor.

"Me? Me? What about you? Does sending your brethren to create their destiny ring a bell?"

Trent was all set to fire off a snappy comeback when he saw the only thing that could make things worse.

Jason. Zack.

And Dr. O.

As Conner and Trent approached, Jason, Zack and Tommy, the three of them looked behind the two hamster liberators, saw the rodents skittering across the floor and the now-numerous screaming mall-crawlers and the store clerk shouting after Conner and Trent and waving a cordless phone at their retreating backs. It wasn't hard to connect the dots.

"No you did not," was all Tommy had time to say before Conner and Trent blew past, now scared of both being caught for freeing the gerbils and hamsters and of what their science teacher would do to them for said crime. It wasn't like their records were exactly clean as it was.

"We're so screwed," Trent moaned.

"Maybe that fountain thing cursed us or something," Conner mused.

They were halfway to the food court before their communicators went off. Conner looked at Trent and gestured with Mr. Mongolian Gerbil and Ms. Syrian Hamster. "Could you get that? My hands are full."

Trent sighed and figured he might as well face the music. He lifted his wrist to his mouth and hit the button on the former morphing bracelet. "Um, Dr. O, I swear I can… almost sort of explain—"

"Don't talk. Just listen. Both of you. First of all, stop running; it's suspicious." Trent and Conner instantly ground to a halt, then started walking casually, their eyes darting around for incoming mall security. "Second, Conner—ditch the guinea pigs. Dead giveaway." Conner frowned, looked reluctantly down at his two new friends, then stuffed them into his pockets. "Next, go down to the first floor. Don't come back in this wing, and try to avoid the second floor if at all possible." They obeyed, hurrying to a nearby escalator. "Now, go buy yourselves some hats, new shirts, sunglasses—anything that could muddle your description for security. Buy them, tear the tags off, and wear them. If someone tries to question you, tell them you didn't set the guinea pigs free, you just got freaked out when they escaped and you ran out of the store. Wasn't you. That's your story. Stick to it."

"Yes, Dr. O," Conner and Trent chorused.

"If you get taken into the security office, beep me. I know where it is; I'll be there as fast as I can. Don't try to speak into the communicator if you're caught, though. Just beep me. Oh, and one more thing."

"Yeah?" Trent asked cautiously.

"Stop. Causing. CHAOS!"

"We didn't do it on purpose," Conner began, but Trent cut him off.

"Dr. O, I figured it out. I'm not the hamster who gets bought by some average god and sent to live in a small dirty cage. I'm the hamster who was just curled up in a little ball when the God of Normality came into the pet store with the God of Chaos and the God of Normality just couldn't process the chain of events when the God of Chaos accidentally set loose a bunch of gerbils so the God of Normality broke open my cage and tried to send me and my friends on the path of destiny only we didn't want to go so the God of Normality flung us all out of the cage but when he got to me he realized he was freaking out and he put me back and now I'm all alone on the pile of sawdust and if I want to I can escape my meaningless life and get picked up by some other average god and maybe I'll even get sent to the place with the colored tubes but there's still a chance I'll get the basement stairs but in the end it's my choice if I let either of those happen because now that the cage is busted I have the option, I can jump out of the display and run off and try to forge my own destiny but I know it'll be a long drop and I know that someone has plans for me and maybe just maybe they have colored tubes for me because surely I wouldn't be in the display if I was meant for the too-small cage but then maybe too-small cages aren't what the gods had in mind, they just sort of happen when one buys a hamster and if I leave now I won't be bought, I'll have to survive on my own in the mall and avoid the exterminators and shoppers and forage food for myself with no more water bottle and—"

"Trent. Cope."

Trent blinked. The short, imperious order could probably be considered rude, even out-of-line. Certainly it wasn't very compassionate. But it was the most helpful thing Tommy could have said right then, and it snapped Trent right out of his indecisive hamster viewpoint and back to a functioning level. Not because Trent was ready to cope, or because he didn't have a right to be freaked out, but simply because when all was said and done the thing Trent was best at, the most highly-developed skill he possessed, was coping, with anything and everything—even with life as a hamster.

"Okay," Trent said. With that, he dropped his wrist, squared his shoulders, and led the way into the nearest men's clothing store.

Conner followed, shaking his head. He always knew Trent would lose it some day. At least this way Conner had gotten a couple of free pets out of the deal. Of course, they were going to need cages. And water bottles and food pellets…

Really, though, he should probably go all out and get them one of those habitats with the colored tubes. And maybe a ball thingy.

After all, that's what Conner would want, if he were a hamster.

"Kira?" Kimberly called uncertainly. "Kira, where'd you go?"

Kimberly's instincts were on high alert. Kira had vanished in the midst of the clothing department while Kimberly was trying on a top. She'd been waiting outside Kimberly's dressing room, waiting to give her opinion on the shirt, and then suddenly she'd stopped chatting to Kimberly through the door. Kimberly could have sworn she'd heard Kira yelp, but she hadn't responded to Kimberly's calls since then. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

She moved slowly, deliberately, through the racks of clothing, struggling not to raise her fists. Something was off. What could have happened to Kira?

Kimberly had already abandoned her shopping bags near the dressing room, wanting to have her hands free, even though part of her, the "ex" part in "ex-Ranger," kept saying she was being stupid, this wasn't anything strange, Kira had just wandered off, she needed to stop letting this happen, every few weeks there was a new moment that she blew out of proportion because the fighter in her just refused to believe that there wasn't danger around every corner…

Kimberly cautiously headed back for the dressing rooms; with any luck, Kira was waiting for her there. She reached the end of the racks and turned towards the dressing rooms… and there, in front of her, was Kira. She was struggling like mad—against Jason.

Jason had one arm around her chest and a hand over her mouth. Given the fact that Kimberly had passed the spot where he was standing several times in her search for Kira, he must have been dragging Kira around to keep her out of sight. His eyes met Kimberly's and he grinned at her, as if he'd been waiting for her to find them…

But if he'd been dragging Kira around, he hadn't wanted her to find them… until now… which meant…

He'd led her here, back to the dressing rooms. But why? If he wanted her here, why lead her away, then back?

"Good to see you, Kimberly," Jason said cheerfully.

The answer to her question came a split-second later when a dressing room door banged open and Zack sprang out, jumping behind her and grabbing her arms and pinning them to her sides before she could react, holding her much the same way Kira was being contained, only without bothering to cover her mouth. Jason had apparently lured Kimberly away to give Zack time to hide and spring out later, while simultaneously keeping Kira from warning her that they were up to something.

That knowledge went through her in a split-second and then she was deciding how best to break Zack's hold, irritated beyond belief at both of them for playing this retarded game—

And then Tommy stepped into view, grinning wickedly, smug victory in his eyes as he approached. Kimberly waited for him to come within range, planning on kicking him until he cried.

"Hello, Kimberly," Tommy said pleasantly, and before she could respond he leaped forward and put something furry against her collarbone. Then he let it drop down into her tight tank top.

Kimberly's eyes widened in fury. No he didn't. No he didn't. He did not just send Jason and Zack to hold her and Kira down while he threw things in Kimberly's shirt. He just didn't.

Then the worst thing possible happened.

The furry item in her shirt moved.

Kimberly froze—which she realized was a mistake when Tommy tossed two more balls of fur down into her tank top before Jason, Zack and Tommy bolted, leaving an infuriated Kira to stumble and try to regain her balance.

Kira desperately looked like she wanted to chase them, but given the stricken look on Kimberly's face she thought better of it. "Kim! Are you okay? What did they do?"

"Rats," Kimberly whispered as the three creatures began crawling around, trapped between her skin and the tight material of her shirt. "Rats."

Kira knitted her brow; she'd been too busy struggling futilely against Jason to pay much attention to Tommy, and with Tommy's back to her she hadn't had much of a view anyway. Thus Kira had yet to notice the additions to Kimberly's wardrobe, and mistook "rats" as a mild curse, something akin to "darn," rather than actual rodents.

"What did he—?" Kira began, then broke off in horror as she noticed the wiggling lumps in Kimberly's shirt. Kira yelped, and any composure Kimberly had managed to maintain shattered. Both of them were screaming in fear and disgust and panic, Kimberly yelling for help and Kira unable to muster up the courage to reach into Kimberly's shirt and grab an unknown rodent. Shop clerks began rushing over to see what the problem was but neither girl was coherent enough to explain. Kimberly flung her arms straight up and screamed at Kira to get them out, hopping in place simply because the skin-crawling sensation wouldn't allow her to hold still and she knew that running would be useless.

At last, Kira screwed up her resolve and stuck her hand under the hem of Kimberly's shirt. Eventually she managed to seize one of the gerbils and yank it back out the bottom, at which point she hurriedly flung it away. Over in the lingerie section, someone else started screaming as the gerbil fell from the sky. Neither Kira nor Kimberly noticed. Grimacing, Kira prepared to extricate the next gerbil.

Thirty feet away, mostly hidden by a shelf of men's shoes, Tommy, Jason and Zack watched the aftermath of their handiwork with relish.

"You can't pay for entertainment like this," Zack breathed.

"If you could, we couldn't afford it," Jason said, grinning like mad.

Tommy let out a sigh of satisfaction. This had gone even better than he thought. Finally, for once, the chaos had worked in his favor.

"Trent picked a great day to have some sort of hamster identity crisis," Zack commented.

"You were right about hitting Kimberly," Jason told Tommy. "So, how are we going to get her next?"

Tommy smiled. "You know what? I think I'm done. For the moment."

End Notes: Okay, I lied. Seventy-four was supposed to be the last chapter before Power Morphicon, and then I sat down to write the hamster scene and simply couldn't leave it saved to my hard drive for two weeks. The bit about the bows—one of our oldest flashback ideas—simply wouldn't work in actual flashback form, no matter how hard I tried, so sorry about that. Hope the hamsters made up for it.