Who:Jack and his fourth ghosts (plurals too!), and Sam. What: badness. When:December 20ith early evening. Where: The Hyperion kitchen. Rated: Probably PG-13, R for imagry Warnings: disturbing childhoods are disturbing. :| No canon names mentioned for Jack's parents, so I did make them up. But meh. Was needed for the dramatic effect!
It was another day. Pretty quiet. But what was he expecting? He remembered hearing once from Sam, or the internet he forgot which, that ghosts only came at night. So it wasn't the day he dreaded but the nightfall. Jack stayed at the Hyperion but honestly he didn't know why. He didn't patrol. He wasn't handling weapons well. His mind was scattered and his coordination shot from how little sleep he'd been getting the last few days. Even pouring a cup of coffee was a difficult task. Meditation wasn't helping. His heart and mind were to a mess to put focus into it, but his arm was healing thanks to Faith's bandages and quick action. He didn't trust himself to go hunt vampires when he had a difficult time just being alone with weapons in his own room. Being on the streets with them was a recipe for disaster. So he cut it off at the head and stuck to just holing himself up between his bedroom and the kitchen. He didn't say much to anyone about anything. When they asked he was vague. In the back of his mind he could hear Charlies taunting voice everywhere he went in that hotel. You're her good deed for the day. You're not part of the team.. He tried to block it out as he sank into a chair infront of a cup of strong black coffee. But he was worried. More than he let on outwardly of it. Charlie's visit had rattled him more than Kira.
The warm roasted bean scent helped calm his frayed nerves, it was only a temporary relief but he'd take anything at this point. His hands were wrapped around the mug and he closed his eyes while he sipped the hot liquid. It wasn't Jedi strong. But it would do. The clock struck ten. Nothing. Maybe he was off the hook for the night. Maybe he'd be able to get a decent sleep. Jack rubbed his eyes and froze when he heard a sound of heeled boots hitting the floor. Why did he always, always jynx himself like that? He really needed to stop. It wasn't helping things. "Faith?" He asked hopefully. Not wanting to open his eyes if all he was gong to see were more ghosts from his past.
"Son.." A soft uncertain and unfamiliar voice returned the call instead. The coffee cup he'd been clutching fell from Jack's hands and shattered on the ground, dark steaming liquid pooled on the floor around the legs of his chair staining the wood. "Mom?" Staring in disbelief at the young black woman standing infront of him, color draining from his face. That was the last person he expected to find him. She hadn't when she was alive, so why now? "No." He said simply while standing up and folding his arms stubbornly, turning so his back faced her. His mom had abandoned him, let him run away after the tests and did nothing to even try to find him. He owed her nothing, not a word. He wanted no part of her being in the same room. Dead or alive. Jack didn't budge. "But you're dead.." She only smiled icily. Just like the wrinkled photograph he saw on Kat's desk once upon a time. There was no happiness in her voice, no mirth in her eyes. Jack hated it. Hated her. Life on the streets had been rough, but life at home was in some ways worse.
"Smart little freak." A second voice said sarcastically and the figure joined the first from the shadows of the dimly lit room, this one masculine and tall and smelled faintly like musk. Both wearing S.P.D. lab coats. The last thing Jack saw them in before they died in a lab fire. The woman's stance held like it had burnt in the secret depths of Jack's mind. A hand on her hip, a judging steady gaze of hazel locked on him. "Pathetic." She seethed as she moved forward with a graceful stride and closed the distance between her and her son. Her gentle palm resting firmly on his cheek just as he remembered it the last day he saw them alive, after his last injection of ranger DNA before he ran away from the lab that day. Both of Jack's parents worked for SPD labs before he was a ranger, before he was even able to understand what a ranger was. But they weren't kind people, and Jack's mind eventually shut them out as he spent his life on the streets. He'd forgotten all about them. To spare heart ache his mind made him. They'd started out with good intentions, but like many the edge of the Troobian war it had changed them. They devoted their lives to the Power Ranger Project. Recreating Ranger DNA at any cost. Injecting the serum in their own young kids using them as test subjects and treating them like lab rats. "All that power and you still turned out wrong." Jack's father George said, kneeling down of all things as if he were five years old again to place a heavy hand on the boys shoulder making him face them. Fingers pressing at a pressure point that made him wince. Jack tried to pull away. Brush them off. But he couldn't. His dad's hand was strong like a vice just like he remembered them being as they held him down when he was young for his injections. The strong hands made him shudder as they only tightened and he was barely able to struggle as he was forced down to the floor to his knees and then pinned on his back. He was to over powered to yell for help. To paralyzed by fear to help himself.
Jack gripped at George's arm in attempt to fight, but the weight was to much he felt like he was four years old all over again. The more he struggled the angrier the man got. He was barely keeping himself up off the ground on his forearms. "Stay still and take it like a man." George thrust Jack against the hard floor. The back of his head hit the ground and he saw stars. His vision distorted and Gail pushed his sleeve up something shiny and bright in her hand, it was a needle of something. A clear fluid. He couldn't see what it was, but he didn't want to find out. A heavy fist struck his jaw and swelled. He kicked his legs outward in a last ditch effort to push them away and backed up against a cabinet once there was space between them, curled to it in pure terror. His eyes closing tightly. His arms raising to block them and protect himself. His heart was pounding a million miles a minute, and beads of sweat clung to his forehead. He didn't look up. He couldn't. He felt light headed, and smothered. Like there was no oxygen left in the air he was trying to breathe.