Seven Steps from Humanity- Chapter 5
Author: dream-edge
Title: Seven Steps from Humanity
Summary: AU VENJIX’s army wasn’t just machines. We could have handled machines. No. Someone had given VENJIX magic.
Rating: M
Pairings: Dillon/Ziggy, Scott/Summer, Gem/Flynn/Gemma, K/Tenaya
Disclaimer: I do not own the Power Rangers or anything related to the franchise.
Status: In Progress
Notes: Please see my journal here for background information, common terms, warnings, and further disclaimers.
Part One: The Beginning Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
Part Two: The Pack Chapter 1
7 Steps from Humanity
Part Two: The Pack
Chapter 2
Scott hated mornings.
If he had a choice, he tried not to be up before 9. Of course, as a Power Rangers, he rarely had a choice in the matter. His life this past year had been defined by all-day training and all-night battles. Dr K had thought that by now he should have adjusted to being awoken at all sorts of unholy hours of the night. Scott was resolutely ignoring what K thought because that woman wasn't normal by even the twins' standards.
He really didn't want to get up today. He had gotten a total of four hours of sleep last night due to the two men who'd run the Barricade. Scott had barely managed to fall back asleep an hour ago and already K was calling the team to give her report on the her analysis of the two men. He had really been hoping it would take her longer. He groaned and forced himself to get out of bed. By which he meant roll right over the edge to land in a crumbled heap on the floor. He looked around his bedroom with eyes that did not want to be open and decided that changing out of his sleep clothes before the first cup of coffee was too much work.
He stepped out of his room, stopping when the richly bitter smell of coffee washed over him. The others were up. Grinning slightly and feeling more awake, he walked to the kitchen. When he entered though, he had to stop and close his eyes. Obviously, Summer hated him. She had chosen to remain in her pajamas as well, which wouldn't be a problem if not for the small shorts that showed just how sinfully long her legs were, all tan, smooth skin and lean muscles for fucking miles. Damn her, she knew what that outfit did to him. Too early, he told his body sternly when his cock twitched in interest. Not that his body had ever listened to him.
"Alright there Scott?" Summer asked, wicked amusement in her voice.
He opened his eyes to glare at her and promptly forgot what she was wearing when he saw what she was holding. "Is that coffee?"
Summer's lips pulled back in a smile that was all teeth. "Mine." She said in the gentle tone that sent sane men running. "Get your own."
He glared at her half-heartedly but obediently shuffled over to the coffee maker. When he turned around, Gem had appeared, leaning against the wall with dull, dazed eyes. The plain shirt he was wearing was one size too big, hung loose across the shoulders, meaning he'd stolen it from Flynn. Not that that was unusual, both twins had taken to borrowing from Flynn's wardrobe; admittedly, even Flynn thought Gemma looked ridiculous in his clothes.
"Wha's goin' on?" Gem asked, voice breaking in a yawn.
"Gotta deal with those two guys." He informed, moving to lean against the counter as Gemma and Flynn entered. Flynn stopped next to Gem, leaning close as he fingered the collar of the shirt Gem was wearing. Flynn whispered something to Gem Scott couldn't hear; whatever it was, it brought a smile to Gem's face. Scott ignored them until Flynn sat down next to Summer and gave him a look. "Tha' boy we picked up is makin' the twins anxious." He informed calmly, like unsettling the twins was an everyday thing.
There was a brief moment of silence as he and Summer processed that before Summer shifted and shrugged. "Can't blame them." She said.
Scott grimaced. "I'll admit, I really don't want to know what was capable of doing that to his psychic scent."
Gemma was still with her brother near the door, talking to him in hushed tones. She stopped, however, to give him a look that said she thought he was being particularly idiotic today. "Wrong boy." She said. Scott frowned and thought back to the other man, half-hidden behind the one who felt like VENJIX. He hadn't thought much of him at the time; the man had been small and nonthreatening, especially when placed next to his friend. However, thinking back on it, there had been an oddness to him, covered at the time by the elder man. "He was fuzzy." Scott said quietly in realization.
Gemma looked distinctly unimpressed with him, which was always uncomfortable. "Make her stop staring at me like that." He hissed at Flynn.
Flynn smiled and spread both arms wide. "Aye can' make her do anythin'." He said with the serene calm that meant he was staying out of this. He was lying, of course, completely and utterly; the twins would do anything if they thought it would make Flynn happy. It was the kind of reckless devotion that made him glad he wasn't a Pack race.
"Rangers!" K called, obviously thinking they'd had enough time to wake up. Scott groaned but pushed off the counter and shuffled into the lab, his team trailing behind.
The good doctor frowned at them when she saw they were still in their pajamas but by now she knew better than to say anything. Instead, she picked up a file from her desk and brought an image up on the wide screen on the wall. "This is a scan of our mystery man." K informed them. "Look closely and you can see the metal that's been grafted onto his bones. The procedure to do this must have been extensive."
"Is this affecting his thinking in any way?" Scott asked, intrigued despite himself.
K shook her head. "As far as I can tell, no."
"What about the man himself?" Summer asked from next to him, hands still wrapped around her coffee cup.
"He refuses to talk."
"Of course he does." Scott said dryly then sighed heavily. "What about the other guy that was with him?"
"Sigmund Elijah Grover." She said immediately.
"He talked?" Flynn asked, looking briefly surprised.
K was already shaking her head. "No." She paused then and added, "Well, yes. Though from the contents I do believe he hasn't said anything that's actually the truth; I do have a transcript of the conversation if you want to look anyway. I checked his city registration file."
There was a long pause. Scott looked over at Summer and was slightly heartened to see she was sharing in his look of blank incomprehension. Finally he turned back to the doctor. "He's from Corinth?" he asked. She nodded. "He's a citizen of Corinth?" She nodded again. "How did he end up with this guy?"
"Security cameras caught him slipping out of Corinth two weeks ago."
"Out?" Flynn said, sounding shocked. "Out?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I don't know." K said. "Grover has a remarkable ability to stay off the grid. He came into with the first wave of refugees, filled out the registration form, then disappeared. All activity from then until now is a mystery." She frowned heavily. "In fact, he didn't even finish his registration form. There are some very noticeable blanks. I have no idea how he got passed the guards with that."
"Let me guess." Gem said, actually looking a little annoyed.
Gemma finished for him. "His race is missing."
K nodded, though she looked a little confused. That's when Scott remembered she hadn't actually felt Grover's psychic scent. "I have no idea why, though." She said, lips drawn down in a frown. "It's not like he can hide it."
"Except for the part where he apparently can. He's fuzzy." Scott explained with an aggravated sigh. "Can someone tell me what the kid is?" He could feel a headache coming on. It was way too early for this shit. Summer's hand slipped across his neck, gently kneading the muscles there. He leaned into the touch slightly with a smile.
K was frowning at him. "Fuzzy?" she repeated. When he nodded, she made a 'hm', one finger pressing against her lips. "I will have to look into that." She said at last. "I may have an idea." She raised her eyes back to Scott. "In the mean time, what should we do about them now?"
Scott stared at the scan on the screen for a long moment, an odd thought nagging on the corner of his mind. Something K had said once, long ago. "I'd like to talk to them." He said finally.
It took him a lot longer than he wanted to get out of the Garage. The twins were fussing now. Fussing. Over him. Not Flynn. Flynn had apparently understated things that morning. The twins weren't unsettled by the two men. They were flipping the fuck out, in their own quiet way. The last time he could remember the twins fussing over him, he'd broken three ribs. That had not been a fun month; especially since Flynn had spent it silently laughing at him as Scott struggled to deal with the twins. Flynn had worried over him for the first week right along with them; then he'd sat back and resolutely not helped him out.
He sighed heavily in remembrance, tugging uncomfortably at his morpher as he followed a security guard down the prison hallways. As it was, he hadn't gotten here till mid-day. He stopped abruptly when he saw his father sitting in one of the interrogation cells, talking to the Berserker with Marcus. Grover was noticeably absent. He had expected to meet up with the Colonel on this visit his late in the day. He hadn't expected his father to be stupid enough to separate the two. No wonder the man hadn't spoken.
The man looked pissed, in an eerily silent kind of way. Scott had gotten the impression that the Berserker wasn't exactly quiet when he was angry. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was glaring at the Colonel, ignoring all of the Colonel's demands and Marcus's polite inquires. From the sound of things, Marcus was still trying to get his name.
Scott hesitated then reached out for the man's psychic scent. Warm. He nearly collapsed with relief. The man was angry, but not in a rage yet. He took a deep, steading breath and walked over to rap his hand against one of the metal bars. The Berserker's eyes immediately shot towards him. The man stared for a second before recognition flickered through his eyes, his psychic scent warming just a little bit more. That was… interesting. "Can I talk to you?" he asked his father. When Mason opened his mouth to say something, Scott cut right over him. "Now."
Marcus' expression lightened significantly upon seeing him. Not waiting for his father's signal, Marcus stood and approached, leaving Mason to follow or sit there like an idiot beneath their prisoner's now amused stare. Scott didn't care if it pissed his father off, anything that pushed that man away from the Rage was a good thing in his mind.
"What are you doing?" He hissed the minute his brother and father were next to him.
His father glared at him. "I'm trying to get information about the current threat to this city."
"Yeah. How's that going?" he asked. "Where is Grover?"
"He's talking to Hicks." Marcus said immediately. "I thought it best to keep them together but Father disagreed."
Scott sighed heavily and carefully rubbed his temples, wishing he'd asked Summer to accompany him. She knew how to be reasonable long past the point where he got annoyed. At least Grover was with Hicks. Hicks was the least threatening person he knew, not to mention completely harmless. "Please, go get them."
Marcus looked relieved and turned to leave before Mason could react. So the Colonel immediately snapped at him. "What are you doing? You can't just come in here and overrule my decisions."
Scott closed his eyes with a pained look and counted to ten. Tried to remind himself that his father was a Pack race, wasn't part of anyone's Pack, barely knew those who were. Those who hadn't seen the Pack instinct in full force always underestimated it. It was not actually his father's fault that he didn't know just how much the Pack drove someone like a Berserker.
He really should have taken that family counseling K had suggested.
"Rangers deal with Venjix. He," Scott finally said, pointing to the Berserker who was watching them closely, "feels like Venjix. Thus, my jurisdiction. I can do whatever I want." Scott forced himself to stop and took a breathe before saying, "And you are not going to get anything out of him by taking his Pack."
There was a sudden mumble of voices from down the hall, a mix of his brother's voice and a high, light voice he'd never heard before. But the Berserker's head immediately snapped around and he stood abruptly, making the guards raise their guns. Marcus and Grover turned the corner, coming into sight and all the tension in the Berserker just drained away. Grover's eyes moved from Marcus to see the Berserker and he immediately brightened, racing ahead of Marcus to sprint into the cell with the Berserker.
"I can handle this." Scott told his father. "Please, you must have other things to do."
The Colonel watched him with narrowed eyes then sighed. "Do be careful. I don't trust them."
Scott nodded and stepped to the side so his father and Marcus could walk by. Then he approached the two, leaning against the doorway. The Berserker glanced at him and nodded in acknowledgment. "Oh good." He said. "The reasonable one is here."
Scott blinked in surprise and bit his lip to keep from laughing. Because seriously? The man was calling him the reasonable one? Summer was going to love this. "I apologize for that." He said instead. "Sometimes the Colonel doesn't fully understand how hard instincts drive a Predator."
Grover made a strangled sound in his throat, looking horribly amused as he slumped in the seat Marcus had previously occupied. "How can we help you, oh reasonable one?" he asked, brown eyes dancing. Scott noticed the Berserker kick the younger man under the table, making Grover frown at him and rest his feet on top of the table.
"A name would be nice." Scott said, ignoring the horseplay and looking at the Berserker. "Calling you 'that guy' is starting to get annoying."
"It's Kane. Dillon Kane."
Scott smiled widely and nodded. "Thank you Mr Kane. It's highly appreciated."
"What about me?" Grover asked. Scott glanced at the young man and had to blink in surprise. Grover was leaning his head back against the chair, showing off the pale arch of his neck, and how was he making that sprawl seem so very attractive? Scott shook his head slightly to clear it and straightened from his slouch against the door frame, tucking his hands into his pockets. Then he stuck his tongue firmly in cheek and said, "Well, according to the information you've already given us, your name is Louis Humeral."
To Dillon's credit, he didn't even blink at the false name. Grover just grinned widely and nodded in agreement. "That it is."
He met the young man's brown eyes and asked, "So, I should arrest you for falsifying your city registration form, Mr Grover?"
Grover barely hesitated before snapping his fingers in mock disappointment. "I'd forgotten about that." He said, pouting in an exaggerated fashion that made his lips look really appealing.
"Of course." Scott said generously. "If there's anything you need…" he trailed off when the two glanced at each other. That was the kind of look that spoke entire conversations. Scott had the sinking feeling that he was dealing with a resonation. Which doubled the complications of protocol when dealing with Pack. He held in his sigh and struggled not to think about the paperwork this would involve.
"Amara Kane. She's a Siren." Kane said after a minute. "Can you find her for me?"
Scott shrugged. "If she's in the city registration files she shouldn't be too hard to find. If there's nothing else, perhaps we should get you two back to your cell."
The two glanced at each other for a brief moment before Grover hopped to his feet, all smiles. "There's food?" he asked hopefully, brown eyes shining brightly, as Kane rose behind him.
There was no denying that face. "Half an hour, I believe, and the mess opens for lunch."
Grover's smile widened, which should have been impossible by that point, and he clapped his hands together excitedly. "Oh, perfect. It's almost home!" Kane snorted in amusement and placed a gentle hand against Grover's back, pushing the smaller man forward slightly. "Walk." Kane ordered, but his voice was warm.
"I'll be back as soon as I can with your answer, Kane." Scott said, then nodded at a security guard and motioned him to escort them back to their cell. Scott watched them go. Thought back to how all the tension in Kane had disappeared as soon as Grover was in sight. Smiled to himself and left humming.
Dillon casually flicked a finger against the one of the bars of his cell, listened thoughtfully to the sound it made, then nodded in satisfaction. Yeah, he could break this without much problem if he needed to. He allowed himself to relax a fraction and glanced at the guards standing nearby. There were three, two right next to the cell- one of which was watching him suspiciously-, the other further down the hall. The only one he had any need to be concerned about was the Lady of the Wood down the hall. They were making breaking out of here almost too easy.
But he didn't, because for some unfathomable reason, he trusted the Vampire who had said he would look for Amara. Instead he twisted in his crouch to look at the man resting half-off the cot, watching him upside down, brown curls just brushing the ground. "The blood's going to go to your head."
"Too late." Ziggy said in a drawl, not moving.
"You are so strange." He said, shifting so he was leaning back against the bars.
"I get that a lot too." Ziggy chirped. Chirped. Just how long had the boy been laying like that?
"Who was that guy?" he asked.
Ziggy's head tilted to the side, which just looked impossibly awkward upside down, and asked, "Who? Mr Reasonable?" He sounded amused at the nickname. Dillon scowled at the tone but nodded. Ziggy moved suddenly and the next thing Dillon knew, the younger man had swung himself into a sitting position, legs folded under him, all in the space between one blink and the next. "That's Truman." Ziggy said, seemingly not fazed by the fact that his blood had to be abruptly switching direction to follow gravity. "He's the Red Ranger."
"Ranger?" Dillon asked in surprise. "As in Power Ranger?" When Ziggy nodded, he made an impressed sound. "Damn, I haven't seen a Ranger since I was a kid. Why are they here?"
"Well, the wards are good, but powering them is a problem." Ziggy admitted. "They didn't really have the time to create a power pool, so the wards are fed by witches."
Dillon was already nodding in understanding. "And sometimes those witches burn out."
Ziggy nodded eagerly, smiling brightly at him, the kind of smile that pulled an answering one out of him. From down the hall, the sound of voices approached, loud and chaotic. Dillon didn't pay it much attention asides from sending out a brief psychic prob; a gang of demon kind, judging by the number and how loud they were, probably more prisoners. Dillon pulled away from them, intent on ignoring them in favor of the smiling mystery inside his cell.
Except Ziggy wasn't smiling anymore.
No, Ziggy had gone pale at the sound of those voices. His eyes were overly wide and he shook slightly. His scent stank of fear. Dillon was on his feet before he'd even fully realized Ziggy was completely terrified. He grabbed the younger man's arm, pulled him roughly off the bed, and shoved him into the corner created by the bed and wall. He stepped in front of the younger man just as the group of prisoners came into view. They barely paid attention to him, continuing on without looking; except for the one at the end, who turned to peer into the cell. Dillon glared back at him, crossing his arms over his chest and looking as imposing as possible, which for him was quite a bit. The other prisoner frowned at him but continued on when a guard probed at him.
Dillon remained where he was for another minute, listening to their footsteps fade, before he turned around. Ziggy had pressed himself against the wall and wrapped his arms around himself, watching Dillon with frightened eyes. "Are you alright?" Dillon asked gently, unsure if the other man really saw him.
Ziggy took a deep breath and nodded slightly. "Yeah." He assured. He didn't stop shaking until a guard opened the cell and told them it was lunch time.
Dillon followed the younger man in concern as they headed to the mess. Ziggy didn't say anything though, all but ignoring him except that he shied closer to Dillon every time they passed an occupied. They were walking fast though, so they were gone by the time the occupants could realize who they were. Dillon turned to watched the last guard drop back as they entered the mess hall in confusion and suspicion. Why were they dropping back?
The Berserker became aware, all at once, that Ziggy had gone silent and completely still behind him and that they were all but surrounded. He immediately spun back around, grabbing Ziggy's shoulder and pushing Ziggy behind him, just as the other prisoners stood up and approached them. Ziggy pressed close, hands clenching tight in the material of Dillon's prison jumpsuit. His head was buried against Dillon's shoulder and his breath came in short, jerky pulses against the bare curve of his neck. The sensation would be erotic if Ziggy wasn't so completely terrified.
He glared darkly at the prisoner that approached. Selkie, he realized. He hated Shape-shifters. "Is that you, Ziggy?" the man called, trying to glance around Dillon to see the other man. Ziggy's breath hitched at the sound of the man's voice. "I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to come here." The man continued. Dillon did not like the smile on the man's face. It promised pain.
Dillon tightened his grip on Ziggy's arm and placed his other hand on Ziggy's waist, keeping Ziggy firmly behind him. He snarled when the man took another step forward. "Don't touch him." He hissed, dangerously close to going cold.
The Selkie paused in his approach, eyes snapping towards Dillon like he hadn't really seen the Berserker before now. The man's eyes continued to widen as he realized just what was standing before him. Then, for some reason, the man's gaze dropped to the hand Dillon had braced against Ziggy's hip. A dark smirk crossed the man's face. "Is he that good?" the Selkie asked, sounding amused.
Dillon frowned tightly, beyond confused by the statement. Before he could inquire, Ziggy's skin went cold to the touch and something almost like the cold rage but so much worse rose behind him. For one heartbeat, one eternal second, Ziggy's psychic scent solidified. Dillon's head snapped around to stare at Ziggy and it was only the protective instinct that kept him from stepping away in shock.
Then, it was over. Ziggy's temper was abruptly reigned in and his scent went fuzzy before Dillon could double check his original, impossible, impression of Ziggy's race. Ziggy stared right back at him, eyes a much darker brown than he remembered. Dillon couldn't be sure, it could be a trick of light, but he could have sworn that as he watched, Ziggy's eyes lightened to their previous pale brown. It all happened in a few seconds.
Ziggy's eyes dropped and his hand tightened in Dillon's jumpsuit. "I'm not hungry anymore." He whispered. "Let's just go back."
Dillon nodded and started to back up, pushing Ziggy with him. But the Selkie smiled falsely at them and the group of prisoners tightened around them. "I didn't say you could leave." The Selkie said. It took Dillon a moment to realize the others had completely missed Ziggy's abrupt change in temper; honestly, the only reason Dillon had probably noticed was because of how close they were standing.
"You can't stop us." Dillon said. There was no signal Dillon could detect but suddenly the man on his right darted forward, reaching out for Ziggy. The man was quick, Dillon would give him that. But Dillon had mechanical implants. He let the man almost reach Ziggy, let the man think he'd won, then he grabbed the man's wrist and easily broke most of the carpal bones. It happened so fast it took a minute for the man to realize what had happened. The man just stared at his misshapen wrist in Dillon's hold blankly; then the pain crashed over him all at once and a scream erupted from the man. Dillon smirked at the sound and tugged the man closer in order to bring his foot down on the man's knee. There was a brief resistance before the bones gave completely under the force, the leg bending in the wrong direction as the knee shattered. Dillon shoved the man away and took a perverse joy in watching him crumble in pain.
He looked back at the Selkie. "You can't touch Ziggy." He said and smirked. "You can't even touch me."
"He owes us blood!" the Selkie hissed, pleasant expression shattering in rage.
"I don't care." Dillon said just as the guards poured into the room in response to the screams. Dillon kept his grip on Ziggy even as the guards moved throughout the room, forcing people to return to their food. There was no way he was trusting these fools now; not that he really had to begin with.
Ziggy tugged on his jumpsuit again. "Let's go." He said against Dillon's back. Dillon glanced around once again and nodded, ducking out with the younger man as guards started to tend to the downed prisoner.
Dillon watched from his position on one of the cots as Ziggy walk slowly across the cell, trailing his fingers across the cell bars. Since returning from the mess, they hadn't left the cell, hadn't talked much either. Honestly, Dillon had thought Ziggy would be going insane with boredom at this point. It was now technically curfew for the prisoners, but Dillon hadn't listened to others on how to live his life since he was twelve. All he knew was that Truman hadn't come back yet and Ziggy was no where near sleep. "Are you okay?" he asked, bracing himself onto his elbow. They hadn't talked about the incident in the mess hall since arriving back in the cell, Ziggy remaining firmly quiet about the whole thing.
Ziggy paused and glanced at him with a smile. "Yeah, I'm good. Just not tired." He said cheerfully. Dillon watched him with a raised eyebrow. "Who were those men?" he asked.
The younger man didn't answer for a moment then sighed and explained, "They're Cartel."
"You know the mob?" he asked dubiously.
Ziggy smiled widely at his tone, but something about his smile rang untrue. "I'm part of the mob." He said.
"What did you do to piss them off?"
"Oh, this and that." Ziggy said, waving a hand airily. Dillon rolled his eyes. "If you don't want to tell me, just say so."
"Okay, I don't want to tell you."
Dillon rolled his eyes and was about to drop the subject entirely when he remembered. "What did he mean?" he asked quietly, "About you being good?"
Ziggy went tense all over and his temper immediately chilled, walking that fine line between sanity and the cold. Funny, Dillon hadn't actually thought the boy was a Predator, even though only two demon races were Passive. Dillon knew, abstractly, that Ziggy wasn't actually angry with him. His nerves ad the fear were merely making his temper sharper than usual. That didn't change the fact that this rising cold felt somehow wrong.
Then it happened again; Ziggy's scent firmed up into something impossible. Only for a second, too quick for Dillon to really be sure, except he doubted anyone could mistake the feel of that race. Then Ziggy went hazy again.
The younger man turned to look at him angrily. This time, Dillon got a very good look at his eyes. Not pale brown, not even brown anymore; Ziggy had woodland eyes. "Are you being dumb on purpose?" he demanded heatedly.
"No." Dillon said slowly, beyond confused at this point. What the fuck was Ziggy?
Ziggy watched him for a minute before seeming to realize Dillon was telling the truth. His temper warmed to normal and Dillon watched the rather unnerving sight of Ziggy's eyes changing color. The green specks vanished completely and the brown lightened until they were the same plain shade Dillon had first seen in the desert. "He thinks I'm paying you to protect me by having sex with you." Ziggy explained.
Dillon wasn't sure he could get more confused. "Berserks only sleep with their Mates." He pointed out. "If we were Mated, you would smell like me." Not to mention that if they had been Mated the man that had lunged for Ziggy would be dead.
"They think I'm a whore." Ziggy said, lips curling in disgust, as if that somehow explained everything.
Before Dillon could say anything, Ziggy jumped onto the bed above him. "Goodnight, Dillon." Ziggy said in a firm voice, abruptly ending the conversation.
Dillon frowned up at the darkness above him, thought back to the mess hall and a few minutes ago, thought back to Ziggy's changing eyes and impossible psychic scent.
Wondered why one of the demon kind felt like a Dea al Mon.
Chapter 3
Title: Seven Steps from Humanity
Summary: AU VENJIX’s army wasn’t just machines. We could have handled machines. No. Someone had given VENJIX magic.
Rating: M
Pairings: Dillon/Ziggy, Scott/Summer, Gem/Flynn/Gemma, K/Tenaya
Disclaimer: I do not own the Power Rangers or anything related to the franchise.
Status: In Progress
Notes: Please see my journal here for background information, common terms, warnings, and further disclaimers.
Part One: The Beginning Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
Part Two: The Pack Chapter 1
7 Steps from Humanity
Part Two: The Pack
Chapter 2
Scott hated mornings.
If he had a choice, he tried not to be up before 9. Of course, as a Power Rangers, he rarely had a choice in the matter. His life this past year had been defined by all-day training and all-night battles. Dr K had thought that by now he should have adjusted to being awoken at all sorts of unholy hours of the night. Scott was resolutely ignoring what K thought because that woman wasn't normal by even the twins' standards.
He really didn't want to get up today. He had gotten a total of four hours of sleep last night due to the two men who'd run the Barricade. Scott had barely managed to fall back asleep an hour ago and already K was calling the team to give her report on the her analysis of the two men. He had really been hoping it would take her longer. He groaned and forced himself to get out of bed. By which he meant roll right over the edge to land in a crumbled heap on the floor. He looked around his bedroom with eyes that did not want to be open and decided that changing out of his sleep clothes before the first cup of coffee was too much work.
He stepped out of his room, stopping when the richly bitter smell of coffee washed over him. The others were up. Grinning slightly and feeling more awake, he walked to the kitchen. When he entered though, he had to stop and close his eyes. Obviously, Summer hated him. She had chosen to remain in her pajamas as well, which wouldn't be a problem if not for the small shorts that showed just how sinfully long her legs were, all tan, smooth skin and lean muscles for fucking miles. Damn her, she knew what that outfit did to him. Too early, he told his body sternly when his cock twitched in interest. Not that his body had ever listened to him.
"Alright there Scott?" Summer asked, wicked amusement in her voice.
He opened his eyes to glare at her and promptly forgot what she was wearing when he saw what she was holding. "Is that coffee?"
Summer's lips pulled back in a smile that was all teeth. "Mine." She said in the gentle tone that sent sane men running. "Get your own."
He glared at her half-heartedly but obediently shuffled over to the coffee maker. When he turned around, Gem had appeared, leaning against the wall with dull, dazed eyes. The plain shirt he was wearing was one size too big, hung loose across the shoulders, meaning he'd stolen it from Flynn. Not that that was unusual, both twins had taken to borrowing from Flynn's wardrobe; admittedly, even Flynn thought Gemma looked ridiculous in his clothes.
"Wha's goin' on?" Gem asked, voice breaking in a yawn.
"Gotta deal with those two guys." He informed, moving to lean against the counter as Gemma and Flynn entered. Flynn stopped next to Gem, leaning close as he fingered the collar of the shirt Gem was wearing. Flynn whispered something to Gem Scott couldn't hear; whatever it was, it brought a smile to Gem's face. Scott ignored them until Flynn sat down next to Summer and gave him a look. "Tha' boy we picked up is makin' the twins anxious." He informed calmly, like unsettling the twins was an everyday thing.
There was a brief moment of silence as he and Summer processed that before Summer shifted and shrugged. "Can't blame them." She said.
Scott grimaced. "I'll admit, I really don't want to know what was capable of doing that to his psychic scent."
Gemma was still with her brother near the door, talking to him in hushed tones. She stopped, however, to give him a look that said she thought he was being particularly idiotic today. "Wrong boy." She said. Scott frowned and thought back to the other man, half-hidden behind the one who felt like VENJIX. He hadn't thought much of him at the time; the man had been small and nonthreatening, especially when placed next to his friend. However, thinking back on it, there had been an oddness to him, covered at the time by the elder man. "He was fuzzy." Scott said quietly in realization.
Gemma looked distinctly unimpressed with him, which was always uncomfortable. "Make her stop staring at me like that." He hissed at Flynn.
Flynn smiled and spread both arms wide. "Aye can' make her do anythin'." He said with the serene calm that meant he was staying out of this. He was lying, of course, completely and utterly; the twins would do anything if they thought it would make Flynn happy. It was the kind of reckless devotion that made him glad he wasn't a Pack race.
"Rangers!" K called, obviously thinking they'd had enough time to wake up. Scott groaned but pushed off the counter and shuffled into the lab, his team trailing behind.
The good doctor frowned at them when she saw they were still in their pajamas but by now she knew better than to say anything. Instead, she picked up a file from her desk and brought an image up on the wide screen on the wall. "This is a scan of our mystery man." K informed them. "Look closely and you can see the metal that's been grafted onto his bones. The procedure to do this must have been extensive."
"Is this affecting his thinking in any way?" Scott asked, intrigued despite himself.
K shook her head. "As far as I can tell, no."
"What about the man himself?" Summer asked from next to him, hands still wrapped around her coffee cup.
"He refuses to talk."
"Of course he does." Scott said dryly then sighed heavily. "What about the other guy that was with him?"
"Sigmund Elijah Grover." She said immediately.
"He talked?" Flynn asked, looking briefly surprised.
K was already shaking her head. "No." She paused then and added, "Well, yes. Though from the contents I do believe he hasn't said anything that's actually the truth; I do have a transcript of the conversation if you want to look anyway. I checked his city registration file."
There was a long pause. Scott looked over at Summer and was slightly heartened to see she was sharing in his look of blank incomprehension. Finally he turned back to the doctor. "He's from Corinth?" he asked. She nodded. "He's a citizen of Corinth?" She nodded again. "How did he end up with this guy?"
"Security cameras caught him slipping out of Corinth two weeks ago."
"Out?" Flynn said, sounding shocked. "Out?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I don't know." K said. "Grover has a remarkable ability to stay off the grid. He came into with the first wave of refugees, filled out the registration form, then disappeared. All activity from then until now is a mystery." She frowned heavily. "In fact, he didn't even finish his registration form. There are some very noticeable blanks. I have no idea how he got passed the guards with that."
"Let me guess." Gem said, actually looking a little annoyed.
Gemma finished for him. "His race is missing."
K nodded, though she looked a little confused. That's when Scott remembered she hadn't actually felt Grover's psychic scent. "I have no idea why, though." She said, lips drawn down in a frown. "It's not like he can hide it."
"Except for the part where he apparently can. He's fuzzy." Scott explained with an aggravated sigh. "Can someone tell me what the kid is?" He could feel a headache coming on. It was way too early for this shit. Summer's hand slipped across his neck, gently kneading the muscles there. He leaned into the touch slightly with a smile.
K was frowning at him. "Fuzzy?" she repeated. When he nodded, she made a 'hm', one finger pressing against her lips. "I will have to look into that." She said at last. "I may have an idea." She raised her eyes back to Scott. "In the mean time, what should we do about them now?"
Scott stared at the scan on the screen for a long moment, an odd thought nagging on the corner of his mind. Something K had said once, long ago. "I'd like to talk to them." He said finally.
It took him a lot longer than he wanted to get out of the Garage. The twins were fussing now. Fussing. Over him. Not Flynn. Flynn had apparently understated things that morning. The twins weren't unsettled by the two men. They were flipping the fuck out, in their own quiet way. The last time he could remember the twins fussing over him, he'd broken three ribs. That had not been a fun month; especially since Flynn had spent it silently laughing at him as Scott struggled to deal with the twins. Flynn had worried over him for the first week right along with them; then he'd sat back and resolutely not helped him out.
He sighed heavily in remembrance, tugging uncomfortably at his morpher as he followed a security guard down the prison hallways. As it was, he hadn't gotten here till mid-day. He stopped abruptly when he saw his father sitting in one of the interrogation cells, talking to the Berserker with Marcus. Grover was noticeably absent. He had expected to meet up with the Colonel on this visit his late in the day. He hadn't expected his father to be stupid enough to separate the two. No wonder the man hadn't spoken.
The man looked pissed, in an eerily silent kind of way. Scott had gotten the impression that the Berserker wasn't exactly quiet when he was angry. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was glaring at the Colonel, ignoring all of the Colonel's demands and Marcus's polite inquires. From the sound of things, Marcus was still trying to get his name.
Scott hesitated then reached out for the man's psychic scent. Warm. He nearly collapsed with relief. The man was angry, but not in a rage yet. He took a deep, steading breath and walked over to rap his hand against one of the metal bars. The Berserker's eyes immediately shot towards him. The man stared for a second before recognition flickered through his eyes, his psychic scent warming just a little bit more. That was… interesting. "Can I talk to you?" he asked his father. When Mason opened his mouth to say something, Scott cut right over him. "Now."
Marcus' expression lightened significantly upon seeing him. Not waiting for his father's signal, Marcus stood and approached, leaving Mason to follow or sit there like an idiot beneath their prisoner's now amused stare. Scott didn't care if it pissed his father off, anything that pushed that man away from the Rage was a good thing in his mind.
"What are you doing?" He hissed the minute his brother and father were next to him.
His father glared at him. "I'm trying to get information about the current threat to this city."
"Yeah. How's that going?" he asked. "Where is Grover?"
"He's talking to Hicks." Marcus said immediately. "I thought it best to keep them together but Father disagreed."
Scott sighed heavily and carefully rubbed his temples, wishing he'd asked Summer to accompany him. She knew how to be reasonable long past the point where he got annoyed. At least Grover was with Hicks. Hicks was the least threatening person he knew, not to mention completely harmless. "Please, go get them."
Marcus looked relieved and turned to leave before Mason could react. So the Colonel immediately snapped at him. "What are you doing? You can't just come in here and overrule my decisions."
Scott closed his eyes with a pained look and counted to ten. Tried to remind himself that his father was a Pack race, wasn't part of anyone's Pack, barely knew those who were. Those who hadn't seen the Pack instinct in full force always underestimated it. It was not actually his father's fault that he didn't know just how much the Pack drove someone like a Berserker.
He really should have taken that family counseling K had suggested.
"Rangers deal with Venjix. He," Scott finally said, pointing to the Berserker who was watching them closely, "feels like Venjix. Thus, my jurisdiction. I can do whatever I want." Scott forced himself to stop and took a breathe before saying, "And you are not going to get anything out of him by taking his Pack."
There was a sudden mumble of voices from down the hall, a mix of his brother's voice and a high, light voice he'd never heard before. But the Berserker's head immediately snapped around and he stood abruptly, making the guards raise their guns. Marcus and Grover turned the corner, coming into sight and all the tension in the Berserker just drained away. Grover's eyes moved from Marcus to see the Berserker and he immediately brightened, racing ahead of Marcus to sprint into the cell with the Berserker.
"I can handle this." Scott told his father. "Please, you must have other things to do."
The Colonel watched him with narrowed eyes then sighed. "Do be careful. I don't trust them."
Scott nodded and stepped to the side so his father and Marcus could walk by. Then he approached the two, leaning against the doorway. The Berserker glanced at him and nodded in acknowledgment. "Oh good." He said. "The reasonable one is here."
Scott blinked in surprise and bit his lip to keep from laughing. Because seriously? The man was calling him the reasonable one? Summer was going to love this. "I apologize for that." He said instead. "Sometimes the Colonel doesn't fully understand how hard instincts drive a Predator."
Grover made a strangled sound in his throat, looking horribly amused as he slumped in the seat Marcus had previously occupied. "How can we help you, oh reasonable one?" he asked, brown eyes dancing. Scott noticed the Berserker kick the younger man under the table, making Grover frown at him and rest his feet on top of the table.
"A name would be nice." Scott said, ignoring the horseplay and looking at the Berserker. "Calling you 'that guy' is starting to get annoying."
"It's Kane. Dillon Kane."
Scott smiled widely and nodded. "Thank you Mr Kane. It's highly appreciated."
"What about me?" Grover asked. Scott glanced at the young man and had to blink in surprise. Grover was leaning his head back against the chair, showing off the pale arch of his neck, and how was he making that sprawl seem so very attractive? Scott shook his head slightly to clear it and straightened from his slouch against the door frame, tucking his hands into his pockets. Then he stuck his tongue firmly in cheek and said, "Well, according to the information you've already given us, your name is Louis Humeral."
To Dillon's credit, he didn't even blink at the false name. Grover just grinned widely and nodded in agreement. "That it is."
He met the young man's brown eyes and asked, "So, I should arrest you for falsifying your city registration form, Mr Grover?"
Grover barely hesitated before snapping his fingers in mock disappointment. "I'd forgotten about that." He said, pouting in an exaggerated fashion that made his lips look really appealing.
"Of course." Scott said generously. "If there's anything you need…" he trailed off when the two glanced at each other. That was the kind of look that spoke entire conversations. Scott had the sinking feeling that he was dealing with a resonation. Which doubled the complications of protocol when dealing with Pack. He held in his sigh and struggled not to think about the paperwork this would involve.
"Amara Kane. She's a Siren." Kane said after a minute. "Can you find her for me?"
Scott shrugged. "If she's in the city registration files she shouldn't be too hard to find. If there's nothing else, perhaps we should get you two back to your cell."
The two glanced at each other for a brief moment before Grover hopped to his feet, all smiles. "There's food?" he asked hopefully, brown eyes shining brightly, as Kane rose behind him.
There was no denying that face. "Half an hour, I believe, and the mess opens for lunch."
Grover's smile widened, which should have been impossible by that point, and he clapped his hands together excitedly. "Oh, perfect. It's almost home!" Kane snorted in amusement and placed a gentle hand against Grover's back, pushing the smaller man forward slightly. "Walk." Kane ordered, but his voice was warm.
"I'll be back as soon as I can with your answer, Kane." Scott said, then nodded at a security guard and motioned him to escort them back to their cell. Scott watched them go. Thought back to how all the tension in Kane had disappeared as soon as Grover was in sight. Smiled to himself and left humming.
Dillon casually flicked a finger against the one of the bars of his cell, listened thoughtfully to the sound it made, then nodded in satisfaction. Yeah, he could break this without much problem if he needed to. He allowed himself to relax a fraction and glanced at the guards standing nearby. There were three, two right next to the cell- one of which was watching him suspiciously-, the other further down the hall. The only one he had any need to be concerned about was the Lady of the Wood down the hall. They were making breaking out of here almost too easy.
But he didn't, because for some unfathomable reason, he trusted the Vampire who had said he would look for Amara. Instead he twisted in his crouch to look at the man resting half-off the cot, watching him upside down, brown curls just brushing the ground. "The blood's going to go to your head."
"Too late." Ziggy said in a drawl, not moving.
"You are so strange." He said, shifting so he was leaning back against the bars.
"I get that a lot too." Ziggy chirped. Chirped. Just how long had the boy been laying like that?
"Who was that guy?" he asked.
Ziggy's head tilted to the side, which just looked impossibly awkward upside down, and asked, "Who? Mr Reasonable?" He sounded amused at the nickname. Dillon scowled at the tone but nodded. Ziggy moved suddenly and the next thing Dillon knew, the younger man had swung himself into a sitting position, legs folded under him, all in the space between one blink and the next. "That's Truman." Ziggy said, seemingly not fazed by the fact that his blood had to be abruptly switching direction to follow gravity. "He's the Red Ranger."
"Ranger?" Dillon asked in surprise. "As in Power Ranger?" When Ziggy nodded, he made an impressed sound. "Damn, I haven't seen a Ranger since I was a kid. Why are they here?"
"Well, the wards are good, but powering them is a problem." Ziggy admitted. "They didn't really have the time to create a power pool, so the wards are fed by witches."
Dillon was already nodding in understanding. "And sometimes those witches burn out."
Ziggy nodded eagerly, smiling brightly at him, the kind of smile that pulled an answering one out of him. From down the hall, the sound of voices approached, loud and chaotic. Dillon didn't pay it much attention asides from sending out a brief psychic prob; a gang of demon kind, judging by the number and how loud they were, probably more prisoners. Dillon pulled away from them, intent on ignoring them in favor of the smiling mystery inside his cell.
Except Ziggy wasn't smiling anymore.
No, Ziggy had gone pale at the sound of those voices. His eyes were overly wide and he shook slightly. His scent stank of fear. Dillon was on his feet before he'd even fully realized Ziggy was completely terrified. He grabbed the younger man's arm, pulled him roughly off the bed, and shoved him into the corner created by the bed and wall. He stepped in front of the younger man just as the group of prisoners came into view. They barely paid attention to him, continuing on without looking; except for the one at the end, who turned to peer into the cell. Dillon glared back at him, crossing his arms over his chest and looking as imposing as possible, which for him was quite a bit. The other prisoner frowned at him but continued on when a guard probed at him.
Dillon remained where he was for another minute, listening to their footsteps fade, before he turned around. Ziggy had pressed himself against the wall and wrapped his arms around himself, watching Dillon with frightened eyes. "Are you alright?" Dillon asked gently, unsure if the other man really saw him.
Ziggy took a deep breath and nodded slightly. "Yeah." He assured. He didn't stop shaking until a guard opened the cell and told them it was lunch time.
Dillon followed the younger man in concern as they headed to the mess. Ziggy didn't say anything though, all but ignoring him except that he shied closer to Dillon every time they passed an occupied. They were walking fast though, so they were gone by the time the occupants could realize who they were. Dillon turned to watched the last guard drop back as they entered the mess hall in confusion and suspicion. Why were they dropping back?
The Berserker became aware, all at once, that Ziggy had gone silent and completely still behind him and that they were all but surrounded. He immediately spun back around, grabbing Ziggy's shoulder and pushing Ziggy behind him, just as the other prisoners stood up and approached them. Ziggy pressed close, hands clenching tight in the material of Dillon's prison jumpsuit. His head was buried against Dillon's shoulder and his breath came in short, jerky pulses against the bare curve of his neck. The sensation would be erotic if Ziggy wasn't so completely terrified.
He glared darkly at the prisoner that approached. Selkie, he realized. He hated Shape-shifters. "Is that you, Ziggy?" the man called, trying to glance around Dillon to see the other man. Ziggy's breath hitched at the sound of the man's voice. "I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to come here." The man continued. Dillon did not like the smile on the man's face. It promised pain.
Dillon tightened his grip on Ziggy's arm and placed his other hand on Ziggy's waist, keeping Ziggy firmly behind him. He snarled when the man took another step forward. "Don't touch him." He hissed, dangerously close to going cold.
The Selkie paused in his approach, eyes snapping towards Dillon like he hadn't really seen the Berserker before now. The man's eyes continued to widen as he realized just what was standing before him. Then, for some reason, the man's gaze dropped to the hand Dillon had braced against Ziggy's hip. A dark smirk crossed the man's face. "Is he that good?" the Selkie asked, sounding amused.
Dillon frowned tightly, beyond confused by the statement. Before he could inquire, Ziggy's skin went cold to the touch and something almost like the cold rage but so much worse rose behind him. For one heartbeat, one eternal second, Ziggy's psychic scent solidified. Dillon's head snapped around to stare at Ziggy and it was only the protective instinct that kept him from stepping away in shock.
Then, it was over. Ziggy's temper was abruptly reigned in and his scent went fuzzy before Dillon could double check his original, impossible, impression of Ziggy's race. Ziggy stared right back at him, eyes a much darker brown than he remembered. Dillon couldn't be sure, it could be a trick of light, but he could have sworn that as he watched, Ziggy's eyes lightened to their previous pale brown. It all happened in a few seconds.
Ziggy's eyes dropped and his hand tightened in Dillon's jumpsuit. "I'm not hungry anymore." He whispered. "Let's just go back."
Dillon nodded and started to back up, pushing Ziggy with him. But the Selkie smiled falsely at them and the group of prisoners tightened around them. "I didn't say you could leave." The Selkie said. It took Dillon a moment to realize the others had completely missed Ziggy's abrupt change in temper; honestly, the only reason Dillon had probably noticed was because of how close they were standing.
"You can't stop us." Dillon said. There was no signal Dillon could detect but suddenly the man on his right darted forward, reaching out for Ziggy. The man was quick, Dillon would give him that. But Dillon had mechanical implants. He let the man almost reach Ziggy, let the man think he'd won, then he grabbed the man's wrist and easily broke most of the carpal bones. It happened so fast it took a minute for the man to realize what had happened. The man just stared at his misshapen wrist in Dillon's hold blankly; then the pain crashed over him all at once and a scream erupted from the man. Dillon smirked at the sound and tugged the man closer in order to bring his foot down on the man's knee. There was a brief resistance before the bones gave completely under the force, the leg bending in the wrong direction as the knee shattered. Dillon shoved the man away and took a perverse joy in watching him crumble in pain.
He looked back at the Selkie. "You can't touch Ziggy." He said and smirked. "You can't even touch me."
"He owes us blood!" the Selkie hissed, pleasant expression shattering in rage.
"I don't care." Dillon said just as the guards poured into the room in response to the screams. Dillon kept his grip on Ziggy even as the guards moved throughout the room, forcing people to return to their food. There was no way he was trusting these fools now; not that he really had to begin with.
Ziggy tugged on his jumpsuit again. "Let's go." He said against Dillon's back. Dillon glanced around once again and nodded, ducking out with the younger man as guards started to tend to the downed prisoner.
Dillon watched from his position on one of the cots as Ziggy walk slowly across the cell, trailing his fingers across the cell bars. Since returning from the mess, they hadn't left the cell, hadn't talked much either. Honestly, Dillon had thought Ziggy would be going insane with boredom at this point. It was now technically curfew for the prisoners, but Dillon hadn't listened to others on how to live his life since he was twelve. All he knew was that Truman hadn't come back yet and Ziggy was no where near sleep. "Are you okay?" he asked, bracing himself onto his elbow. They hadn't talked about the incident in the mess hall since arriving back in the cell, Ziggy remaining firmly quiet about the whole thing.
Ziggy paused and glanced at him with a smile. "Yeah, I'm good. Just not tired." He said cheerfully. Dillon watched him with a raised eyebrow. "Who were those men?" he asked.
The younger man didn't answer for a moment then sighed and explained, "They're Cartel."
"You know the mob?" he asked dubiously.
Ziggy smiled widely at his tone, but something about his smile rang untrue. "I'm part of the mob." He said.
"What did you do to piss them off?"
"Oh, this and that." Ziggy said, waving a hand airily. Dillon rolled his eyes. "If you don't want to tell me, just say so."
"Okay, I don't want to tell you."
Dillon rolled his eyes and was about to drop the subject entirely when he remembered. "What did he mean?" he asked quietly, "About you being good?"
Ziggy went tense all over and his temper immediately chilled, walking that fine line between sanity and the cold. Funny, Dillon hadn't actually thought the boy was a Predator, even though only two demon races were Passive. Dillon knew, abstractly, that Ziggy wasn't actually angry with him. His nerves ad the fear were merely making his temper sharper than usual. That didn't change the fact that this rising cold felt somehow wrong.
Then it happened again; Ziggy's scent firmed up into something impossible. Only for a second, too quick for Dillon to really be sure, except he doubted anyone could mistake the feel of that race. Then Ziggy went hazy again.
The younger man turned to look at him angrily. This time, Dillon got a very good look at his eyes. Not pale brown, not even brown anymore; Ziggy had woodland eyes. "Are you being dumb on purpose?" he demanded heatedly.
"No." Dillon said slowly, beyond confused at this point. What the fuck was Ziggy?
Ziggy watched him for a minute before seeming to realize Dillon was telling the truth. His temper warmed to normal and Dillon watched the rather unnerving sight of Ziggy's eyes changing color. The green specks vanished completely and the brown lightened until they were the same plain shade Dillon had first seen in the desert. "He thinks I'm paying you to protect me by having sex with you." Ziggy explained.
Dillon wasn't sure he could get more confused. "Berserks only sleep with their Mates." He pointed out. "If we were Mated, you would smell like me." Not to mention that if they had been Mated the man that had lunged for Ziggy would be dead.
"They think I'm a whore." Ziggy said, lips curling in disgust, as if that somehow explained everything.
Before Dillon could say anything, Ziggy jumped onto the bed above him. "Goodnight, Dillon." Ziggy said in a firm voice, abruptly ending the conversation.
Dillon frowned up at the darkness above him, thought back to the mess hall and a few minutes ago, thought back to Ziggy's changing eyes and impossible psychic scent.
Wondered why one of the demon kind felt like a Dea al Mon.
Chapter 3