Operation Timeline Rescue Chapter 10: Breaking and Entering, a power rangers fanfic

-Breaking and Entering-

If the voice of the Woman was sickening as too-sweet treats (already a tall order by K's standards), then the Director's oozed like curdled milk. "Now, K, I'm surprised that a smart girl like you needs reminding of this. You're too sick to go outside."

The Director's overly polished shoes clicked on the bare cement as he stepped into the room. Crossing a threshold, his gloved hand straightened the midnight tie that matched his impeccably pressed suit, the black, latex grip adjusting to perfect symmetry. His face was unnervingly pale and symmetrical, his black hair slicked back by an unhealthily thick layer of gel.

It was like every one of K's ribs snapped tight in their cage, squeezing her breath as her heart pounded in terror.

Why was he here?

Today of all days?

Did he know of her prior excursion?

Did he know what she was planning?

His face gave her nothing, blankly looking down on her with his beady black eyes still awaiting a response to his statement. As if he was waiting to see what she would do next.

K wanted to flee, run for the door before anyone could stop her, a knowing fool's plight in a final bid for freedom before it could be wrenched from her. Be K wasn't out yet, and she couldn't confirm that she'd been uncovered. Which meant she needed to find out.

"Apologies, Director," K replied, body shrinking demurely in a feeble display of submission. "I hoped that maybe Alphabet Soup had uncovered a cure. That perhaps in a house of great knowledge, they had learned of a way to protect me from the sun."

The Director chuckled, a sly rumble of concession from his chest as his cheeks stretched into a Cheshire smile. As if he was enjoying the lies he fed her.

"It's our top priority, K," he said. "Anything we can do reward all the hard work you do for us."

It took all K's mental effort not to clench her jaw in anger, let alone lunge in fury for his disdain for her. He may as well have called her bio-hardware 'spandex'. Instead, K held firm, her expression vacant and unassuming. Pretending to be the ever-docile, little brainiac that they so zealously coveted. Giving them what they wanted, and allowing them to make their mistakes in complacency.

"Of course, Director," K replied. "I understand. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He nodded to the Woman, the handler moving aside and making for the exit to leave K and the Director alone. Some things, it seemed, were above even the Woman's clearance.

"K," said the Director. "I noticed this morning that you accessed the Venjix program last night, outside of your assigned working period. I just wanted to make sure that everything was fine with the project."

The relief seeped into her shoulders, begging them to relax as the anxiety ceased clinging to the walls of her lungs. This, she had been ready for, knowing that once she produced the case her intrusion would be likely noticed. It wasn't the first time K had accessed it on her own, nor the first time they'd questioned it. Still, the Director hadn't inquired personally before.

"I had a breakthrough on the self-reparation protocols," K explained. "I wanted to implement them immediately so that I would not be slowed during my next assigned development period." Not a total lie, in her last working period it had been her main source of frustration and a solution to which she had, in fact, considered in the time since. Not that they would be able to tell whether she'd implemented it or not; if they were capable of reading her code then they wouldn't need her in the first place.

The Director nodded, but his face remained unreadable.

"I understand, and thank you for your diligence," he said. "Please make sure to alert the appropriate channels next time. We wouldn't any… unfortunate security leaks."

"Of course, Director."

As he turned to leave, K felt her lips move on their own, calling him back before she could stop herself. "Wait!"

The Director paused, head almost creaking as it tilted back to look at her. "Yes, Doctor K?"

The question she'd long wondered, and for a long time unable to receive an answer. It shouldn't matter, she'd soon be gone anyway. But K's curiosity, the ever-deadly cat's folly, couldn't leave it alone. It was a question for which she had no answer, something she could never abide.

"The Venjix project," she asked. "Where did it come from?"

"You haven't asked about the origins of any of our other projects," the Director mused. "Why is this different?"

Because it was the one she couldn't explain.

The memory remained as sharp as ever, the day K had first seen the fragment strands of code. To call the fragments 'shards' was generous; they were like panes of shattered glass that someone had taken to further crush beneath their feet. It had been her first real challenge and one that still remained. After months of disassembling nuclear security and cracking bank servers, at last, they had provided her with calculations that were truly worthy of her intellect.

At first, K had been fascinated by the scrambled mess they'd assigned her. All of it was far more advanced than anything she had seen before, and K had to wonder if those in the Soup even knew what they had handed her. Her curiosity only grew as she uncovered another exciting revelation. It wasn't one code, but two.

Initially, it appeared similar to more familiar programming languages, although current forms of processing looked like cave paintings by comparison. But the other was unlike anything she'd ever seen. At times, she'd even dared to go so far as to call it… alien. K's fascination only grew from there, slowly working to integrate the two foreign codes into a single, continuous stream. As the months rolled along, and her examination turned from recovery and splicing to enhancement and development, K began to form an almost attachment to the strange lines of data. The way it seemed to react when she accessed the data vault, the way it would respond and follow her coding.

As if it were alive.

And it captivated her.

But no one, either because they were unwilling or unable, could tell K where either original codings had come from.

"I hope that in understanding the source code's origins I can be more efficient in its development," K told the Director. "Given the nature of the project, I suspected that clearance of such information was too high for my handlers. Perhaps you would be able to shed some light on this mystery?"

This time there was no condescending chuckle or even a twitch of his lips. Instead, stone-faced, the Director took a step closer to look down on her.

"I'm afraid that information is above even your clearance, K," he said. "But do not worry, you will not need it to complete your task. In fact, we have been very impressed with the progress described in your reports. We believe the Project Venjix will be about ready, very soon."

Ready?

But there was so much left for her to do! K hadn't even begun exploring the ways to integrate their newfound knowledge of the Bio-field into the coding. By her estimation, this project was years from true readiness.

"Director," K insisted. "I'm afraid I must disagree. The current version of Project Venjix still requires multiple patches and reviews."

But the Director raised his hand dismissively. "Don't worry your pretty little head about that, K. I'm sure that Venjix is practically perfect in the form you have it in now. Let me assure you, the time of its readiness is almost upon us."

And with that, he turned his heels and returned to his path for the door. It was only at the threshold that he stopped and turned one final time.

"K?" he said. "Keep up the good work. I can assure you, your time is almost here too."

-2 Hours, 15 Minutes to Judgement Day-

Kyle pressed up against the wall, trying to act naturally beneath the strange material. Or at least, whatever was meant to pass for natural. It wouldn't have been his first suggestion, skulking beneath the outer layers of a Cyclobot, but even he had to concede to Dana's suggestion when it was offered.

He certainly didn't have a better idea for moving around the base unseen. It was by no means perfect, the Cyclobots could well have had internal circuitries that enabled silent communication, and their disguises would only be useful as long as their original wearers remained undiscovered. But it gave them a layer of safety that until now they'd been lacking.

It only reinforced their need to make every second count.

Cornering a trio of Cyclobots on patrol had been surprisingly easy. After Doc's earlier display with the Magna-Clamps, disabling them quietly had been equally simple. It was only when it came time to dismantle the outer layers that they ran into problems. The thin metallic layer ran like a sheath over the circuitry, fitting more snuggly than even their Ranger suits. Removing the layers was equally a challenge, with none of them certain where to cut the material without ruining the entire skin.

In the end, Dana had managed it, finding the right seems and removing them from the androids with surgical precision. But the process wasn't quick, and from start to finish, it was a tense thirty minutes as Wes and Kyle stood guard while she worked.

Then, at last, the time came for one of them to be the willing first test subject. Kyle soon stood in front, clad in the tight metallic skin of the Cyclobots and gazing through the small, cyclopean lens. It wasn't great, and certainly not going to hold up to a closer inspection. But hopefully, at a glance, it would help them remain unnoticed. Wes assured them that the Cyclobots were far from the sharpest of tools.

That was when they'd had their biggest debate: to split up and move with speed or stay together for safety in numbers. By Kyle's reasoning, he could be faster on his own, with Wes and Dana using the time to prepare their position for their run at the entrance. If they hit the worst-case scenario and Kyle was caught, he still had his ten-minute, emergency Morph to keep himself safe. With any luck, attempts to capture him would still draw the desired attention and give the other two a chance to slip inside.

But Wes disagreed. They were scattered enough, and with Eric down and the others still MIA, it was too great a risk to split them further.

"Besides," Wes had insisted, "we don't gain anything if we lose you while trying to rescue Eric. We're not trading pieces, and we're not trading lives. We take it one objective at a time, and if we're caught, we can at the very least keep the air clear for an evac. We stick together."

At any other time, Kyle would have relented. Wes was now most senior in command, and Kyle wasn't usually one to argue orders. His own plan had plenty of flaws, and they didn't have the time to debate them further and iron out the kinks. But this time, Kyle knew in his gut that he was right, and if he didn't stand his ground they'd regret it in the long term.

"We don't have time to wait," he argued. "Dana's still working on the other two suits, and every second we spend closes the window we've got. I'll be faster on my own, and if I'm caught I can still create a distraction to help you guys. That battery's going down one way or another, but if we all get pinned, you can't help Eric. If it all goes fine, it won't matter. But if it doesn't, then you're still free to move. And if we do hit the worst-case scenario and they capture me, then you can find me in the cells when you recover Eric."

Wes had grimaced, teeth clenching as he tried to find a counterpoint. But he knew there wasn't one, at least none that could elevate his own plan over the one Kyle was suggesting.

"Okay, but be careful," he finally conceded.

"I will. If something goes wrong, make for the entrance we saw. I'll try and draw as much attention as I can."

"Coms are down," Dana pointed out, barely looking up from her scalpel. "How will we know if something's gone wrong?"

"Knowing our, luck," said Kyle. "Something will probably explode."

And then he stepped out into the open air, striding toward the gun embankment ahead in hopeful mimicry of the robots. Kyle moved among them, swinging his arms in time to theirs, none even acknowledging his presence as his disguise kept him concealed.

So far so good.

The whole experience brought with it a strange sense of Deja Vu. Once, when his body belonged to another and his mind was nothing more than a helpless prisoner, Kyle had watched through his eyes as the Cyrax computer virus strode through the halls of Gideon's fortress. He'd watched as Byte-Bot foot soldiers had parted, bowed even, as the mighty general of Gideon's legions moved with complete impunity. Now, as he again moved unnoticed among the villainous robot forces, Kyle couldn't help but feel a shiver at the memory.

At last, he found the corner he needed, slinking into the shadows to take the ladder and begin his ascent to the gun battery. Reaching the top, Kyle strode toward the main console, hoping to look like he was there with purpose as his eyes scanned the roof for his opposition. Six guards, easy enough if he timed it right. Standing beneath the giant installation, Kyle was starting to worry that he hadn't brought enough explosives.

With that number, it wasn't going to be quiet, but hopefully, reinforcements were far enough away that it wouldn't matter. Surprise would help him get the first one, and maybe the second if he was lucky. From there it would come down to prioritization and speed.

Kyle slowly strode to the two bots leaning over the controls, his hand slipping to his belt to clutch the Magna-Clamp and his pistol. Planning his strike on the two in front, Kyle's eyes shot to the next closest Cyclobot, eying the target as his finger flicked to ready on the trigger.

Now he had a plan for three of them. The rest was muscle memory and reflex.

And then he struck.

The pad whirred to life as it slammed into the Cyclobot's head, the robot's body shuddering and twitching as the micro-waves fried the internal programming. As Kyle spun with his other hand raised, his arm whipped around the second, yanking the clamp free and ramming into the other face as well.

By now the bots had seen him and were already fumbling for their weapons in horror. Kyle whipped up the pistol, the laser bolt scorching the third bot and sending it flying before it had a chance to fire. The others weren't giving him that chance, but Kyle was ready.

Their weapons flashed like water unleashed from a hose as their imposter spun, whipping around the fallen bot like a shield as the lasers sparked against the body. Protected from their fire, Kyle hurled himself forward, desperately hoping his twitching shield would hold as he closed the distance. He dared another shot, pistol hounding as another round lanced through a chest and reduced his problems to two.

And by then the gap had vanished.

Kyle thrust his hostage forward, slamming it into a Cyclobot as he lunged for its companion. The shredded robot thunked to the ground, toppling the one behind as Kyle struck in close, keeping to tight confines to prevent it from opening fire. The Cyclobot tried to swing, but Kyle was faster, his hand intercepting the sword as he snatched at the hilt and reefed it free. With the arms now reversed, Kyle swung wide as the Cyclobot stumbled, connecting at the neck and separating the head from the shoulders.

The helmet dropped, flittering wires sparking as Kyle spun around to the final guard. Having shaken its damaged comrade off itself, it had risen to its feet once more. But not fast enough, and all Kyle did was whip up the pistol and double-tap. The final shots echoed as silence fell around him and Kyle lowered the smoking blaster.

There was no time to congratulate himself. Even if the Cyclobots didn't have linked communicators, someone was bound to have heard all of that.

Unhooking the charges from his belt, Kyle rushed to the main battery, activating the magnets and attaching them to the base. With whatever precision his speed allowed, he looked for small openings and crevices, any position that would allow for concealment and delay their discovery. Any advantage he could get.

With the charges dropped and set, and no time to admire his handiwork, Kyle flicked the remote to the shared channel and hurried to the rooftop's edge. His hands barely gripped the ladder, more a sliding, controlled fall than a climbing descent as Kyle ducked back into the row of storage buildings and vanished back into the maze of the compound. Behind him, he could already hear the footsteps of the reinforcements racing to the battery.

He just had to hope that the Cyclobots were every bit as inobservant as Wes had described, and would take some time to discover and dislodge the charges. One way or another, Kyle was on a clock.

Another one.

Kyle wound back around, finding his way to the narrow space between buildings where Wes and Dana were waiting. Now the two stood nervously, clad in the same Cyclobot disguise as Kyle.

"You call that being quiet?" Wes hissed as Kyle dropped down beside them.

"Now imagine if that'd been three of us," he pointed out. "We better move, those henchmen might be bozos but they'll still find the charges if we give them enough time."

Then Kyle looked at their feet, to where they'd stuffed the robotic remains after Dana finished stripping them. Steel skeletons and a mess of wires, not a shred of their outer casing wasted in the transfer. And Dana had done all that in the space of twenty minutes.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side, Doctor," Kyle said uneasily as he nodded toward Dana's handiwork.

"Good idea."

From there they marched, again returning to mimicry that they hoped would buy more time than draw attention. Their results were mixed.

"Dana," Wes hissed. "You're moving your arms too high!"

"I was worried I wasn't moving them enough!" she replied in a hushed whisper. "I'm having a hard time just seeing in this thing!"

"Just play it cool," Kyle suggested. "We're almost there!"

At last, they found the vantage they needed, crouching by some barrels as they watched the guard post. Peering out from the shadows, their gazes focused in on the rows of guards by the door. Kyle shot a look to Wes, face completely concealed by a giant helmet hoping he was seeing the silent signal. But the Red Ranger held up his hand, warning them to wait. The guards were being approached, by something they hadn't seen in their entire time on base.

It was a man.

His suit was black, tailored perfectly to his body and matching the slicked shade of his hair that offset his sickly, pale skin. And he did not look happy.

"An entire base, filled with soldiers," he snarled at the guards, accent so fancy Kyle half expected him to brag about an Oxford qualification. "And not one of you can find a single intruder!"

The guarding Cyclobots looked at each other, almost shrugging as if not knowing what to say. Not that they could; a fact that at this moment seemed to only further infuriate their superior.

"Honestly, I wonder sometimes why I even bother. Makes me long for the moment I can be rid of you all and replace you with far superior models. Thankfully, my wait won't be much longer. And then I can turn all of you into slag. I suppose it's a waste to ask if you've seen anything suspicious?"

Again, the Cyclobots turned to each other, each one either shaking their head or shrugging.

"Of course," the superior growled. "Because why would you have?"

Wes then turned to Kyle, and even though his face was obscured, he could see the eager grin of the Red Time Force Ranger as their thoughts aligned in perfect harmony.

"I don't know about you guys," Dana suggested, with a snickering that suggested an equal disposition. "But I say we really ruin this guy's day."

With that, Kyle kicked off the remote's safety cap and pressed the button with a satisfying click. The reply was almost instant, a thunderous boom and tearing metal as the shockwave rippled through the buildings. B, a tower of flame billowed behind them, curtained by black smoke as the gun embankment began to lean. And then, with a groan, it toppled.

Claxons began blaring, feet stamping as the Cyclobots hurried to investigate.

"Hurry, hurry!" the superior commanded. "We must move to corner them! For the love of machines, you all better not mess this up!"

Hurrying to obey their angered boss, the Cyclobots rushed off in that direction, the man in the suit not far behind and leaving only a skeleton crew to man the doors. The trio waited for a minute, just one, just long enough for reinforcements to be out of reach. And then they struck.

They emerged from behind the barrels, arms levering up and down as they hobbled to the remaining guards. Too flustered by the chaos, the linger Cyclobots took no notice of their approach, either too focused on the blossoming smoke or too trusting in those wearing their comrades' skin.

Either way, none were ready for what hit them. Six to the door, three of them. Two to a Ranger, all too easy.

Kyle took the flank, slinking into human movement as he lunged at the guard. The Cyclobot had less than half a second, lifting its sword in vain before Kyle booted his foot into the chest and slammed it into the wall. The second earned a laser round it to the chest, dropping like a sack of bolts as Kyle returned his attention to the one he'd kicked. Staggering its feet, it too earned a shot to the back for its troubles.

Wes and Dana had taken the others, lunging in and slamming them to the wall before they also unloaded with their blasters. A heartbeat later, all six guards lay on the ground, blackened holes steaming from their robotic chests.

"Let's move," Wes ordered, already moving to the door and yanking it open. The trio rushed inside, slamming the opening behind them as Kyle aimed his blaster at the locking mechanism and fired.

It may not have been much, but he hoped it would slow them down. Give them enough time to get lost in whatever strange labyrinth wound below them. Time enough to find Eric.

Drip…

Eric's head pounded, every attempt to lift it failing and sinking back to his chest. His mind was awake, but still felt trapped in a daze, like a fog that refused to lift or waver. But for all the sluggish awakening in his mind, the rest of his body was struggling to catch up.

Too heavy a weight. Too dizzy.

His back pressed against something flat and hard, cold and horizontal. It wasn't until the feeling in his limbs emerged from the daze that the binding touch of steel announced itself around his wrists. It was dark, but Eric couldn't tell if it was just due to foggy vision and heavy eyelids from the blow to his head, instead of the purposefully dimmed lights.

The only accompanying sound was the icy drip from a leaky pipe, echoing from somewhere in the shadowy distance.

Drip…

It hurt to move, even keeping his head upright was a strain as it threatened to roll along Eric's shoulder and drag him down. Breathing was also becoming a chore, the air wheezing into his inflating chest with a heavy heave before slowly seeping out again, faster than he'd like.

Drip…

Great going Eric, got yourself captured, and now you're strapped to a sicko's table.

He should have followed Jen's order and retreated with the Q-Rex before a defense could be mounted. Not that he had any reason to suspect that they were even capable of taking him out. It all happened too fast. The truck with the spiraling cannon pulling into view, the electric blast slicing the air and frying the Zord's systems, his fall from the top and hitting the dirt.

But that wasn't what had taken him down, even as his mighty Zord thundered into the dust beside him. No, whatever they were armed with had hit him like a freight train, hurling him across the sand in a single, painful blast. And the next thing he knew, he was down here in the dark, strapped to a slab with his fatigues ripped open.

He really, really needed to find a way out of here. Wes would never let him live it down if he found him like this.

At least he still had his Morpher, seemed even these sickos didn't have what they needed to remove it. Small victories.

Not that it was doing much good. As his eyes slowly forced themselves open, Eric peered closer at the device encircling his wrist. A strange, glowing blue dome, electrodes, and tiny robotic arms all were connected to the Quantum Controller. So maybe the fact that they hadn't disconnected it wasn't such a good thing. Not if his Morpher was the subject of a more active interest. And strapped to a slab, in a room like this, Eric didn't want to think about what that interest involved.

"Good," chuckled a voice in the shadows. "You're awake."

There was an air of refinement in his voice, a sinister growl as the ominous outline of a man in a crisp white lab coat stepped into view. Heavyset with a pair of large spectacles, he loomed over the rack as Eric recoiled on instinct. Not that he could move far in his bindings.

"Good, you're lively," said the man before pressing a button on his wrist. "Subject appears highly durable and presents higher than usual aptitude for recovery."

Oh… he was one of those…

Which meant that the lab coat…

Suddenly Eric didn't care if Wes found him, slamming against the restraints in a desperate bid for freedom. But it was all to no avail.

"Do I want to know who you're speaking to?" Eric hissed, eyes shooting to the shackles on his wrist.

"Just some recorded notes for later," the man insisted. "For when I review the findings of my exploration."

"Take a step back there, Dora," Eric warned. "You've got no idea who you're messing with."

Yeah, great threat, Eric, because you're so scary when strapped to a table and unable to move.

But not only was the man unaffected by Eric's vain attempt at intimidation, he seemed to relish it. He leaned closer still, a breathless smile stretching from ear to ear as his eyes widened further than Eric ever thought possible.

"On the contrary, Captain Meyers," the Scientist grinned. "It is because I know exactly who you are that I am so excited for this opportunity. To examine the Quantum Controller up close. And with a live host as well? Such moments one can only dream of."

Eric gulped down and gritted his teeth.

"But don't worry, I know you're not a child," the man said coolly, reaching to his side to hold the first syringe. "So I won't patronize you with a lie about how little it's going to hurt…"