A/N: It's crazy to me that I'm here at, posting this fic.

For those who have followed me already, you'll know that the series that came before began as a daydream in high school, written on weekends when I should have been studying. Just as you'll know I couldn't leave it alone, revisiting it all these years later to present the reworked Power Rangers Data Squad last year.
But it didn't stop there, and I'm super excited to present to you all the story that I never thought I'd write, the follow-up to the story I could never put down.

For those who have been reading as I've published, I cannot express how grateful I am to you all. And so, without further delay, a sequel fifteen years in the making.

POWER RANGERS

SERVER FORCE

Episode 1: Reboot the System- Part I

He was cornered.

He needed to move.

He needed to somehow get away and warn everyone of what was coming!

But as Dr Julian Benson ripped around a corner of the empty docks, he realized his fate was sealed. A flash of green, the sound of whirring joints, and a fresh squad of chrome-armored, robotic soldiers dropped to seal his exit and glare at him through sickly green lenses. Standing in front of them was a man with skin of a shimmering cerulean, dressed in red and silver overcoat and an obnoxious top-head on his head. And as Benson stared in ever-growing horror, the blue-skinned man grinned at him with sinister, blood-red eyes.

"Going so soon?

Definitely not good!

The dust kicked from his feet as he spun and scampered, bolting for the gate in desperate flight. The figure's command was almost lazy as the robots took off after him, the closest slamming into the wire gate as Benson threw it closed in a vain bid to gain some distance.

Idiot!

Great idea, Julian; just great!

Sure, keep talking to this guy on the dark web; his story about being a whistleblower couldn't possibly be bogus. How dangerous could he be? Probably just a nutjob ranting about RFIDs and Chemtrails. Doesn't sound dangerous at all! And by all means, go meet him in Lakeview, a town up north in the valley that no one's ever heard of. It'll be fine!

He should have talked to Hilary; he should have taken her advice to either ignore it or look deeper. But no; he was the Great Dr. Benson, the grand inventor and savior of the world! He couldn't possibly do something so stupid as to walk into a blatant trap!

But the self-berating could come later, and something Benson would happily allow Hilary to assist with. It would mean that he'd managed to escape.

Any hope of it was dashed as he skidded around the very next corner, greeted by even more of the chrome armored footsoldiers, already looming menacingly forward as raced across their path. These were flanking a large, armored figure with glowing lenses on their helm and a sharp, carved blade in their hand.

Yup, definitely familiar. Way too familiar.

"Running is futile," the armored figure growled in a voice that was deep and resonant. "Surrender now while we are still feeling reasonable."

Reasonable, sure.

Benson didn't waste time with a quip, sharply jutting to the side and diving between two towers of palettes. This figure was far more invested than the last.

"AFTER HIM!"

Great. Coming at him from all sides, and if they'd been smart enough to sneak up behind him, then it was all too reasonable an assumption that they were coming from the flanks as well. He was probably surrounded; trapped.

And that meant there was no use trying to escape. A desperate warning was all he could do.

Up ahead was another building, a storage shed with roller doors still open. The cover was all Benson was going to get, and the only time he was going to buy. He dropped and skidded beneath a pile of crates, breaking into a sprint as he made for the shelter. Behind him, one of the robots failed to mirror him, crashing into the wood and sending splinters sprawling across the ground. The others clambered over and continued in hot pursuit.

It was the only breathing room he was getting.

Skidding into the shed, Benson slammed the door and heaved a metal trolley in front of it. Then he whipped around the corner and pulled out his phone, pressing his sweating thumb into the scanner and swiping straight to the number he needed.

"Come on… come on!"

Dialing…

Pick up, Hilary! PICK UP!

A Few Months Later…

"Sent to my office before the year's first bell. That's got to be a record."

"Do I get a prize?"

"That depends on whether you're happy about having to now come here every week."

Erika rolled her eyes and slumped deeper into the chair. So much for a good start to the year. At least the new guy seemed friendly; brown shoes and cream slacks, with a checkered red shirt beneath his suede blazer. His dark hair was cut short, styled to lift at the front, and hovering over his horn-rim glasses. The look on his face was welcoming, but not expectant.

But Erika knew better; it was all just a front to lure her into a false sense of security. She was all prepared for the speech that was coming: think about your future; you're too angry; you just need to adjust your attitude.

Time to buckle in for another rerun.

In fact, it seemed to be so much of a repeat that even Mr. Granger didn't seem to be paying attention.

"I'm really sorry," he said, getting up from his chair and wandering over to a box on his desk. "I only got the office key this morning, and I haven't had a chance to unpack. Do you mind?"

Well, at least he was being honest about his level of interest. "Go for it."

It made a nice change from the last one. But with the lid off and the contents freed from their cardboard prison, Granger was all business.

"So why don't you tell me about yourself, Miss Nishimura?"

"I'm sure you've read my file."'

"It's ten minutes into the school year and I've been in this job for barely double that," Mr. Granger reasoned. "Besides, I'm more interested in what you have to say than a piece of paper."

Bit by bit, he pulled the items from the box. A signed baseball; because what mid-thirties white guy didn't have a mounted baseball? A few degrees; framed and ready to be put on the wall. A picture of a woman of similar age and long blonde hair; his wife, Erika assumed. She was sitting at a desk of her own, dressed in a white lab coat, a smile of surprise like he'd taken the shot just as she'd turned around.

She seemed nice.

But having put the photo on the desk, the counselor was now looking at her in patient anticipation.

"Poor Erika Nishimura," said Erika. "No Mom, busy dad, and a frequent flyer at the principal's office. People think I just need to apply myself and smile more. Starting this year at the same school as the last; that's a first, I guess. Must have driven the last guy out though."

Granger just shook his head, "He didn't mention you in the handover."

"I doubt that. He was all about how I could 'be anything I wanted to be', until all of a sudden I became a problem."

Rather than pause or correct her, Granger chuckled, hands still in the box. "And did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Choose to become a problem?"

No, she didn't choose to be a problem; who would choose that? She just didn't want to suffer fools.

"We agreed to disagree," was Erika's only reply.

She expected him to push back, but instead, Granger continued unpacking the box. This time he produced a series of black, metal poles, folding them out on their axles into some kind of stand.

"Sorry," he warned as he placed it in the corner. "The thing I need is under your seat. Could you…?"

He motioned to her feet, and in confusion, Erika shifted to let him under. He reached below and grabbed a handle, pulling out a long black case. Kneeling before for it, he clicked open the latches and produced what was inside.

A guitar.

"Whoa," Erika breathed before she could stop herself.

Bright red body, scuffed white scratch plate, with volume knobs that were worn and still a little grimy. The headstock had a few notches, but the word 'Squire' could still be seen etched onto the surface.

"You like guitars?" Granger asked as he placed the Stratocaster on the stand.

Erika's face locked as she withdrew again, furious that her curiosity had revealed itself.

"I dabble," was all she allowed herself to admit, and Granger merely nodded as at last he took his seat and reached for the notepad. The next question escaped before she could stop it as well. As bad as a cat. "Why do you have it here?"

Granger didn't seem amused or annoyed by it, almost ponderous as he paused to answer.

"To remind me that I used to be seventeen," he admitted. "That the problems of the kids coming in here aren't the problems I have now, but some are ones I used to. They're not bigger or smaller, just different. This helps me remember that."

"So, you don't play it anymore?"

"I've got one at home that I strum on sometimes. But this one hasn't got out in a while. Who knows, maybe I'll get a chance while I'm here; assuming you kids give me a moment to breathe."

Granger's smile was almost daring, a challenge to make Erika never need to visit the guidance counselor's office again. Little did he know; the poor man was in for a ride.

And yet, Erika couldn't help but be relieved by a quiet calm that had quietly settled within her, hiding from her notice until now. Her shoulders softened as she leaned back into the chair, her breathing looser and more even. She almost didn't mind when he switched the topic to business.

"Now," Granger decided, "probably time to circle back to why you're here."

"Don't see what the big deal is."

"You got in a fight."

"It wasn't a fight; fights are usually even."

"You put him in a trash can."

"The alley needed cleaning."

Granger sighed and Erika smirked. Return strike and point. His serve.

"Okay, let's start again," he said. "Why did you put Deryck into a trash can?"

Because he deserved it. Because the kid he was looming over didn't know better than to give Deryck what he wanted, something that would only keep the douchebag coming back for more. Because someone needed to teach him a lesson, and boy, was Deryck a poor learner.

But of course, none of those reasons were ever good enough for the people in charge, were they?

"Someone had to," Erika said instead.

Again, Granger didn't push, just simply nodded. He didn't pick up the pen either, doing that annoying thing that councilors did, writing things down when they wanted her to talk. Instead, he sat in silence, waiting Erika out. As if he knew she'd break before he did. He'd got her thinking about it, got her anger going. It was like he knew that it was only a matter of time.

"I don't like bullies," Erika relented, cursing herself immediately.

"And throwing a punch stopped him being that?"

"What was I supposed to do?" she hissed. "He was nearly twice the kid's size, and mine for that matter. You think he was just going to walk away because someone told him to be nice?"

"Bullies rely on fear," Granger reasoned. "They feel strong by taking power away from others. There's probably a reason he got that kid alone, and he wouldn't have liked more company."

"So, nothing? You mean I should have done nothing."

"I'm saying that sometimes other solutions might be available," Granger replied. "If I recall, there was a wise man who once said that "the wise warrior avoids battle."

Erika scoffed. "And which old white guy was that?"

Granger's only response was a smirk, the kind that told her she'd walked into a trap. The kind that sent her running in one direction so he could spike the ball into the other end of the court.

"Sun Tzu," he said. "In the 'Art of War'."

Point to Granger. And he was still on the serve.

"You've got guts," he told her. "And you want to do what's right. You helped someone in need and made their day better. You've just got to find a way to be in the fight without taking yourself out of it."

"And I suppose you're going to help me do that?"

"May as well," Granger shrugged. "Given you're now meant to be here once a week for the semester."

"Lucky you then."

"Sorry kid, I think you're the one with the raw deal. You have no idea how bad my jokes are."

"So, we're stuck with each other then?"

"Looks that way," Granger looked away, jotting down at his notepad before adding "Along with your shifts of mandatory community service."

"What?" Erika's eyes bulged as her rage boiled to the surface. Way to bury the lead.

"Well," Granger explained, "it was that or an immediate suspension. Principal Goodson didn't want you starting on the wrong foot."

"Because today's going swimmingly."

"Because we both saw the changes you made already," Granger said softly.

It was like someone pulled the plug, and Erika bolted upright as Granger casually reached for the file beside him and flipped it open.

"Three different high schools in three years," he noted.

"I thought you hadn't read my file."

"Did I say that?" Granger replied with a cheeky note of amusement. "I don't remember saying that."

He hadn't, Erika realized, and she kicked herself for once again falling for his wordplay. What he'd wanted was to hear it from her.

"So, you got me all figured out then?"

Granger shook his head. "Nope. I got nothing. Well, almost nothing; I did figure one thing out."

"Oh yeah, and what's that?"

Granger leaned forward and looked her dead in the eye with a look that cut through all her anger and bravado.

"You still want to be here," he said. "You want things to be different. You said yourself, you started this year at the same school you were last. Called it a first. It's a change, and a change that happened because you wanted it."

She just couldn't deal with the look on her dad's face if she got kicked out a third time. The first was bad enough, but when Erika was kicked out of the second, he'd had to change jobs to get her into a third. She just couldn't do that to him.

Not again.

"Change is slow," Granger assured her. "Steps so tiny that sometimes the only way to see where you're going is to look back to where you've been. But what I see, in front of me, not in the file; what I hear, is someone who wants to make that change. So, I'm in if you are."

"And what if I'm not?"

"Then we spend an hour a week in awkward, stony silence until your mandatory sentence is up. I can do that too."

And for that, Erika had no reply. Taking his chance, Granger scribbled on a Post-it and handed it to her.

"Your first stint is at three-thirty, Lakeview Community Hub," he explained. "Only have to be there until your time is up."

She was about to offer an excuse, but Granger saw it coming.

"We already called your Dad; he's signed off on it."

Everything until then was everything that Erika thought she could handle; a tide continually breaking against the rock. But that news sunk her heart. Her dad already knew that she'd let him down. That he'd failed her.

With the news delivered, Granger's eyes drifted to the clock.

"And it looks like we're done," he decided. "I won't take any more of your time. Your teacher knows you're going to be late."

With a nod, Erika got up to leave, heaving her backpack over her shoulder as she turned to the threshold. But on reaching the door, she stopped and turned back.

"You said I should avoid a fight," she said. "But what if there isn't another way?"

Granger merely nodded ponderously to the question. As if it was a question that he'd long pondered on.

"If that day ever comes," he said softly, "you'll wish there was. Believe me."

And on that note, Erika closed the door behind her, wandering out into the empty corridor to face the day alone.

"You should have told me he's on your walk to school," Abbey insisted that afternoon. "I could have picked you up."

But Zeke shook his head, sinking onto the counter in front of his laptop. "It's across town," he insisted. "I'm not making you spend the gas for that trip."

"You're not making me," Abbey insisted. "I'm offering."

"I'll be all right, I promise."

She didn't believe him for even a second, but Abbey also knew Zeke well enough to know that arguing was pointless. Not that it made her feel any easier or helped stifle the anger that was simmering beneath her skin.

The jerk couldn't even wait for school to start before tormenting his favorite punching bag.

Content to wallow, Zeke had returned to his laptop, dark-skinned palm pressing against his face as he stared into… whatever code it was that currently captivated his attention. Which also meant it was time for Abbey to get to work.

She pulled the tie off her wrist, winding her red hair into a practical ponytail before pulling the apron over her light blue tee. Already she could hear Dirk hard at work in the kitchen as the bell rang by the register.

"Abbey?" he called. "Could you get that?"

With a winning smile, Abbey whipped around the bench to greet the customer. A smile that she forced to keep up when she saw who it was. Standing with her jaw hanging opening, staring at some fleck on her nails with a face framed by the flow of blonde that had been sprayed and bleached within an inch of its life, was the last person that Abbey had hoped to see.

Whitney.

"Decaf, skim-milk latte," she said curtly, not looking up. "Extra foam."

"Sure thing," Abbey replied through gritted teeth.

"Nicely run student council meeting today," Whitney added with an air of disinterest. "I'm sure no one else could have run it better."

"Well, if you find anyone else who's happy to put in the work," Abbey replied snidely. "I'll be happy to let them try it out."

Whitney scoffed, rolling her eyes as she wandered over to a nearby table, phone in hand before she'd even sat down. Abbey snatched up the paper cup and prepared to make the order.

Oh, she was getting extra foam all right. She was getting all of it.

But before she could act on her spite, the door chimed again and another walked in.

"Welcome to the Lakeview Community Hub," Abbey said on instinct, her warm and welcoming smile beaming back at the entering person. "If you're after a space to book, you can always-."

Oh.

It wasn't someone looking for a space. In her Doc Martins and torn jeans, wearing a red tee beneath a leather jacket, the girl looked up from under her mop of black hair that was tied into a messy bun. At the end of the counter, Abbey already noticed Zeke shrink further into his laptop.

"Umm, I'm Erika," she said awkwardly. "I'm here to see Dirk?"

"That the fresh inmate?" called the gruff voice from the back. Erika seemed uncertain as a large man stepped out of the kitchen. His clothes were covered in food stains, apron was tied around his waist as he stared at her through a brown, bushy beard.

"I'm meant to be here for community service?" she said nervously.

"Welcome aboard!" Dirk laughed. "I've got a pile of papers to fill; Abbey do you mind grabbing her an apron and showing her the ropes?"

The redhead barely had a chance to nod before Dirk hurried out back and left the two girls at the front.

"So, I guess I should show you where to go?" Abbey offered nervously.

She led the newcomer around to the office, a small storeroom where the spares were kept. She pulled a black apron from the pile and handed it over.

"The work's pretty easy," Abbey explained. "Dirk runs the café to help the center going, so other than taking orders, it's mostly just making sure the function spaces are ready for the community to use. An afternoon like this is pretty quiet, so we're just cleaning up after the weekend rush at the moment."

"Sure." Erika nodded but didn't say much else, wrapping the apron around her waist and waiting for the next direction.

"You said it was Erika, right?" Abbey tried. "Have I seen you around school?"

"Oh, yeah, probably; I guess." Still, the girl's gaze stared downwards, awkwardly avoiding all connection with Abbey's own. "I mostly keep to myself."

Ooohhh, one of those. Then maybe Abbey could help.

"Do you like it that way?" Abbey asked, only realizing how awkward it was as the words tumbled out. "Not that there's a problem if you do. I'm not trying to extro over your intro or anything."

But Abbey's stumbling seemed to break the ice, and Erika smiled and laughed awkwardly. "That's cool, don't worry about it."

Leading the new girl out front, Abbey began to slowly step her through the process at the register when a shrill voice grated Abbey's nerves.

"Hell-o?" Whitney called from her table, clicking her fingers in the air. "Where's my foam?"

"This seems like a great chance to show you the coffee machine," Abbey decided. She quickly pointed to the decaf grinds, setting up the machine before moving to the milk. "Now, you create the foam by adding a little extra air to the milk. Not too much though."

Among the hissing and whistling of the machine, Abbey turned the entire jug into froth. Then, scooping it all into the cup, she winked at Erika. "She asked for extra."

So now she's getting nothing but.

With a broad, winning smile, Abbey delivered the coffee to Whitney's table. The girl didn't even look up from her texts, barely whispering a 'whatever' in gratitude. As Abbey walked away, she noted that it'd be such a shame if all that foam deflated before she finished texting.

At least Erika's mood had improved when Abbey returned, the new girl giving a wicked, approving grin as she realized what Abbey had been up to.

"Time for the gross job, sorry," she admitted. "Bins need emptying."

"I can help with that."

Abbey almost jumped as she heard Zeke suddenly sound off behind her. He was standing behind the counter now, sheepishly not making eye contact. Abbey was about to enquire further before Erika cut her off.

"That's okay, you don't have to."

"Please," Zeke insisted. "You're only here because of me. At least let me make up for that."

Suddenly it all fell into place. Zeke had mentioned that things hadn't escalated when Deryck cornered him that morning, but he'd refused to elaborate further. Abbey had also heard snickering rumors of the bully earning a date with a trashcan all day at school. And now she knew why.

No good deed, it seemed.

"Let's take a bag each," Abbey decided. "We can all do it together."

Well, many hands did make light work, and it was a nice change to Zeke otherwise sulking in the corner. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, Abbey led the three out the back, first to the bins and then to any other task Dirk required for the afternoon.

Now that was a view!

Ender gazed at the window, staring with admiration as the sunset fell on the city below.

It certainly made a change to the dark corridors and metal labyrinth that his master usually had him working in. Although he supposed, the blue skin and glowing red eyes would be a tad unnerving for the normies to interact with. No one to appreciate his stylish silvery coat, or his giant top hat rimed with goggles. Their gasps and staring would just become a distraction from his work.

A shame really; he did love a good show.

But Xaviax was not one to summon him without cause. Which meant that their time had come.

"Enjoying yourself, Ender?"

His voice was like a dark whisper, curious and alluring. But it was also one that disguised a dark cunning, thrumming with power. Ender knew all too well, it was that very power to which he owed his existence. The minion gleefully turned to face his lord, gazing at flowing black robes that concealed all, save for a silver, Grecian mask. Through the slits with which one would usually see glimpses of the concealed features, a cold green glow filtered out.

"It is most transluminate, my lord!" Ender proclaimed, "A wonderful vantage of your soon-to-be kingdom! But can I assume that you did not summon me purely to gaze upon your throne?"

Xaviax slowly nodded, moving to the large, steel chair at the far end of the room. Beside it was another, a tall warrior, clad head to foot in steel armor, whose own head was concealed behind a helmet and red visor. Ender knew better than to bother engaging with this one; conversations with ArcKnight were always frightfully dull.

"I wish for a progress report," said Xaviax. "I would like to know how close we are to finding our enemy."

"But I have already located them, my lord," Ender said excitedly.

"Really?" Xaviax mused. "You know exactly where she's hiding?"

"Of course, master," Ender "By now my servers are hard at work eroding her defenses. When they are down, we will strike and eliminate her for good."

There was something in the way that Xaviax's mask moved as he received the news, like a smile was forming beneath.

"Then prepare the Cyberdrones," he commanded. "They must be ready to descend the moment you make the opening."

"Consider it done!" Ender delighted.

Xaviax settled back into his throne, watching the sky burn into the darkness of the night.

"Hilary Hawkins has given a good chase for long enough," he proclaimed. "But at last, she has reached the end of her run. All she will find in Lakeview is a dead end. And a grave."

Erika stitched the last of the skirting to the conference room table before leaning back with a feeling of triumphant. Far past her mandatory hour, Dirk appeared to have a seemingly endless list of jobs for her to do, dutifully asking if she was happy to stay each time. Erika accepted it without hesitation every time. She wasn't sure whether it was because she couldn't say no, or whether, dare she admit, she seemed to actually enjoy the work. But whatever the other reasons, there was something Erika was sure of.

She was not ready to go home. Going home meant facing her dad and his disappointment, fessing up to letting him down again. At the very least, putting in overtime might build some goodwill; show that she wanted things to change.

Stupid councilor. Granger had Erika pegged from the moment she'd walked in, and he'd led Erika exactly where he'd wanted her to go with his tricksy mind games. But the worst part was… he wasn't wrong.

And if he was right about that, then maybe he had some other good ideas as well…?

"All done," Erika declared as she strode back into the café. By now the space was more or less empty, the windows falling to shadows from the darkening streets outside. Abbey had already thrown off her apron, and Zeke had pulled his yellow jacket over his arms as the duo prepared to step outside for the night.

"I'm about to lock up," Dirk explained as he scribbled some notes by the till. "Great work today, Erika. If I'd known the school was going to send someone so helpful, I'd have said you should have got detention a good long while ago."

Abbey gave him a pointed, almost scolding, look.

"Not that you should be getting in trouble," the man clarified with a cheeky grin. "And if you want to volunteer more time down here, then I'm sure I can get the school to count any extra hour you spend."

"I'll keep that in mind," Erika smiled. "Thanks, Dirk."

She followed the other two out as the owner locked the door behind them. The streetlights were already humming into their evening glow, basking the street in orange as they stepped out into the cool of the settling dusk. Most places had already shut, and the old science museum now loomed over the square like a haunting shadow.

One of the oldest buildings in Lakeview, it stood out like a sore thumb when standing next to buildings of the modern age. Tall, sandstone walls, covered in dirt and grime after years of neglect, it was now surrounded by scaffolds and tarps in preparation for its grand reopening. In its center was a tall, cylindrical tower, rising above the rest of the building like a stumpy, crenelated spire that gave the building a sense of grandeur from a different age.

"You know, I hear it's opening up again," Zeke told Abbey, nodding over to the museum as Erika wandered from the door. "You think you'd… maybe… want to go sometime?"

"Sure," Abbey replied with an enthusiasm too eagerly friendly to match Zeke's suggestive ideal. "Let's check it out when it's up and running. Maybe the school Science Club will want to go."

"Yeah… Science Club," Zeke replied, eyes shooting down in a clear sign of disappointment. "Right…"

Erika's eyes shot between the two, feeling the emanating awkwardness as Zeke's shoulders slumped and Abbey looked up at the building with a prescient excitement. Something was clearly going on there, and there was definitely a mismatch as to what it was. Erika couldn't help but be amused but decided it was best to keep that to herself. One of them was clearly oblivious to the feelings of the other, although Erika couldn't quite decide who it was.

But her attention was snapped from her amused deduction as Abbey turned to her and uttered a question that sent her reeling into shocked silence.

"So, I guess I'll see you at school tomorrow?"

"We will?" Zeke blurted out immediately, only for Abbey to smack her elbow into his side as he recomposed in agreement. "Yeah. Yeah, we will. Right?"

Erika didn't know what to say, let alone how to respond. Her? Hang out with them? It seemed so out of the blue; they didn't even know her. She bails helped one of them out of a jam, once time, and now they were making lunch plans?

For a moment, an instinctive part of Erika wanted to grin and agree, a longing for the connection so generously being put on offer. But a heartbeat later, the hesitance pranged from deep inside her chest to snap her back to reality.

It was a mistake, and to believe anything else was naive. They didn't know her, and once they did, they'd go running marathons to get away. Just like everyone else.

And yet, as she tried to find the words to turn down Abbey's invite, she could feel both sets of eyes baring down on her, staring in silent expectation.

"Sure," Erika said coolly, hoping to sound politely non-committal. "I guess we probably will see each other around… Look, guys, I don't-."

And then she stopped, jaw-dropping as she caught a movement past their shoulders. A person walking towards the museum, sticking to the shadows cast by the building like he hoped to remain unseen. And yet, as he arrived, he did not walk up the steps. Instead threw a glance over his shoulder before making his way around the back.

It was Mr. Granger.

"What the…?"

"What is it?" Abbey asked, turning as Granger disappeared into the darkness.

"The new guidance counselor," said Erika. "He just went that way, looking all shifty."

Her body was already moving, stepping toward the shut-up building and peering around the corner as the others hurried to keep up.

"Hey!" Abbey called after her. "Wait up!"

Reaching the edge, all three of them huddled close and peered around. Granger had stepped behind the chain-link fence, further obscured by the shadows of the rising buildings that lined the alley as he approached the museum's side door. He took one more cursory glance over his shoulder, causing the three teens to jump back in fright, before carefully opening the door and disappearing inside.

"Okay, that's suspicious," Erika decided. "Dammit, I knew he was too cool."

"You think the guidance counselor is up to something because he's 'too cool'?" Abbey challenged.

"You're right," said Erika. "He's just wandering into a creepy, closed museum, after hours, while checking that no one's following him. Perfectly normal."

"We're following him," Abbey pointed out.

"Yeah, but he's not looking for us, is he?"

"Maybe he lives there?" Zeke suggested, sheepishly shrinking as both girls turned to him with raised eyebrows. "I know; I heard it as I said it."

"This is ridiculous," Abbey insisted. "He's an adult; what he's doing is none of our business."

"But what if it's shady?" Erika pointed out. "What if someone needs to call the cops? If we follow him, we'd be doing to the community a service."

"Abbey," Zeke said slowly. "I think she's got a point."

The redhead scoffed as he stepped closer to Erika. "You cannot be serious, Zeke," she said. "That logic is whacked."

"But what if it really is something?" he reasoned. "You're the one always telling me that people too often walk past they should act on."

"That's different," Abbey tried to argue, exasperation already betraying her lack of certainty. "That's about helping people in danger, or in need, not snooping around other people's private business."

But while Abbey tried to not have an aneurism from Zeke rebounding her logic, Erika had returned her attention to the entrance. The longer they stood there debating, the further Granger would get from them. If she was going to figure out what this too-good-to-be-true guidance counselor was up to, then the time to act was now or never.

"I'm checking it out," Erika decided, stepping out from the building's corner to approach the museum.

"We shouldn't!" Abbey insisted. "Going into a place like this, it's… it's trespassing!"

"Do you always do what you're told?"

Of course, Erika's confident bravado didn't last long. Abbey and Zeke moved with her, but her cockiness vanished the moment she tried the door.

Locked.

"Oh well. We tried," said Abbey. "I guess there's nothing to do but walk away now that we've got no way insi-"

"Look, a window!" Zeke pointed out.

Abbey hissed a silent curse as Erika looked to see where Zeke was pointing. Sure enough, there was an opening, propped open on a higher hinge above the door. All they needed now was a way through it.

This was going to be fun.

"Awesome!" said Erika. "Give me a boost. Maybe I can get the door open from the other side."

Nodding in agreement, Zeke braced against the wall and cupped his hands in readiness. With Abbey watching in abject horror, confusion, and annoyance, Erika braced on the boy's shoulder as she stepped into his grip. One quick lift later, and she was leaning over the ledge, awkwardly pulling herself through the gap and into the museum. It took a few awkward wriggles, but eventually, Erika's feet slapped the tiles on the other side. Turning around, she tried the door, feeling a calming relief as the latch clicked open.

Just as well that worked. In hindsight, if the door was locked both ways, Erika would have been in a lot of trouble on the inside. But it didn't matter now; they were in, and Zeke and Abbey both stared in captivated astoundment and curiosity at the awaiting dark corridor.

"You guys coming or what?" Erika asked, turning before they answered.

She half expected them to stay put; it was one thing to consider breaking and entering, but it was another to actively participate. But neither seemed happy to be left waiting for her in the cold, dark alley and hurried after to catch up. The shadows kept up the wall as they moved through the corridors, not so much as a creak or a cry as their footsteps echoed forward into the darkness.

"Did I mention how much of a bad idea this is?" Abbey whispered.

"Quiet," Erika shushed. "He might hear you!"

"We don't even know where he is!" Abbey hissed. "This building's huge!"

"Guys, there's a door ahead," Zeke realized.

Slowly they crept forward, the other two nodding for Erika to be the first to try it. She supposed that's what she got for being the daring one.

Slowly, she turned the handle and pushed it open, revealing the central chamber of the museum. It definitely looked impressive. A dinosaur skeleton was set up down one end, a giant rocket at another. Beside each gigantic display were other open corridors, inviting them to explore.

And still no sign of the Guidance Counselor.

"All right Mr. Granger," Erika muttered as she stared around the massive space. "Where did you get off to?"