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estinoseThis is the first of several parts of what I think will be a 10-part, prompt-driven story.
Walking into Danger With Eyes Wide
1: Been This Person Before
Ziggy stared at his parents, not sure of what they were talking about. While he was willing to admit that they were looking at him in a way that shouted that they were telling the truth, it just didn't make sense.
"What?" he asked, hoping that if they repeated what they'd just said, it would.
His mother held out a photograph of him. Or at least he presumed it was him; it looked an awful lot like him, except he'd never worn a leather jacket like that, at least any time he remembered.
"You remember us telling you about Ziggy Grover?" his mother asked, leaning forward and tapping the picture. "That's Ziggy."
The man was standing in what was now the McAllistair's kitchen, leaning against a wall, a bright smile on his face. Ziggy had seen pictures of his parents in their team jackets, and this one was identical, except that the patches on it were some dark color where his parents' had been red and yellow, respectively. Given that Ziggy Grover had been the team's Green Ranger, the patch had to be a dark green shade.
"That's you," his father said, giving him a small smile, as if he didn't really want to be having this discussion.
He continued blinking at his mother, trying to get his head around what she was saying. "That's not possible. Cloning technology doesn't exist in any real form."
"You're not his clone," she said. "You're him. Ziggy Grover." Her voice was soothing, trying to massage the nonsensical into sense. "He didn't die in the war. He was turned into a four year old. He had to grow up again." She pulled out another photo, that of a curly haired little boy playing with the same jacket. "I took this picture before I knew that he - you - would be like this permanently."
"Everything says he was lost in the war." He'd memorized the history about the war almost obsessively, because his parents had been a part of it and he wanted to make sure he got it right. "That he died as a hero."
"He was lost," his father told him. "A four year old can't fight battles. We just never said how we lost him, for safety reasons."
"We wanted you to grow up as you, not as a duplicate of him. Ziggy kind of had a rough life." His mother's look was sad. "We wanted your life to be better, the second time around. That's why we never said anything about who you were before. We wanted you to have your own life, not all of Ziggy's burdens and problems."
"So, I'm... him." He was a Ranger who had fought with his Mom and Dad. Except that he wasn't, because he didn't remember it at all. He wasn't that person.
He tried to bend his mind around the fact that he was the de-aged version of a war hero, and found he couldn't. The man wasn't him. Couldn't be. It was impossible.
"Only genetically." His mom put a hand on his shoulder. "And his memories up to age four. After that, as far as you knew, we adopted you."
They'd always been open about the fact that he was adopted, but he could have figured it out anyway. His mother was white and blonde-haired, his father was black, with dense, curly hair that he'd loved to play with when he was little. He himself had pale skin and wild, curly brown hair, and didn't resemble any of his relatives, even on the Landsdown side.
It felt like he was coming in the middle of things, or at least a life that somebody had already lived. "I want to know about me. Former me. Old me. Ziggy Grover." If it was true, if his parents weren't lying to him, then he wanted to know. He looked enough like their lost teammate that he might as well know anyway. Just in case something came up that he should know about.
"We're not sure," his father admitted, spreading his arms and hands out to rest them over his knees.. "Ziggy didn't talk a lot about his past. And given that he had a rap sheet longer than your arm...."
He vaguely remembered hearing from someone that Ziggy Grover hadn't been the ideal Ranger. He was sure it wasn't the history books, probably one of his parents' teammates had said something about it. Probably not his parents, but one of the more acid-tongued members, like Doctor K.
"If I'm him, I kind of have the right to know, don't I?" he asked. There were few things his parents and their teammates wouldn't tell him when he asked. They'd always been pretty honest with him.
"We'll tell you what we know," his mother said, "But it's not much. You're better off asking Dillon."
"Got it." Dillon was the one of his parents' teammates that he didn't know much about. The man tended to stay away from team gatherings, and was quiet when he did. His sister, Tenaya, was nice though, from the time or two that Ziggy had talked to her.
Ziggy looked at his parents' expressions and said, "You don't have to worry. I'm me, not him. I'm just curious, that's all. I'm sure you had a reason for telling me all this."
He'd never seen pictures of Ziggy Grover, not in textbooks and not in history books, which had surprised him, given the man had been lost in the Venjix war. He had a suspicion that he was why, now that he knew.
"Yeah." His father was leaning forward. "Because with his body, you inherited his morpher."
"I what?" That was his first reaction, anyway. After a moment, it made sense. DNA had been used as a security measure for the morphers in the the Venjix war, that and voice recognition.
His parents, their nervousness and worry, their finally telling him about all this, it all pointed to one thing.
They were going to war again.
Walking into Danger With Eyes Wide
1: Been This Person Before
Ziggy stared at his parents, not sure of what they were talking about. While he was willing to admit that they were looking at him in a way that shouted that they were telling the truth, it just didn't make sense.
"What?" he asked, hoping that if they repeated what they'd just said, it would.
His mother held out a photograph of him. Or at least he presumed it was him; it looked an awful lot like him, except he'd never worn a leather jacket like that, at least any time he remembered.
"You remember us telling you about Ziggy Grover?" his mother asked, leaning forward and tapping the picture. "That's Ziggy."
The man was standing in what was now the McAllistair's kitchen, leaning against a wall, a bright smile on his face. Ziggy had seen pictures of his parents in their team jackets, and this one was identical, except that the patches on it were some dark color where his parents' had been red and yellow, respectively. Given that Ziggy Grover had been the team's Green Ranger, the patch had to be a dark green shade.
"That's you," his father said, giving him a small smile, as if he didn't really want to be having this discussion.
He continued blinking at his mother, trying to get his head around what she was saying. "That's not possible. Cloning technology doesn't exist in any real form."
"You're not his clone," she said. "You're him. Ziggy Grover." Her voice was soothing, trying to massage the nonsensical into sense. "He didn't die in the war. He was turned into a four year old. He had to grow up again." She pulled out another photo, that of a curly haired little boy playing with the same jacket. "I took this picture before I knew that he - you - would be like this permanently."
"Everything says he was lost in the war." He'd memorized the history about the war almost obsessively, because his parents had been a part of it and he wanted to make sure he got it right. "That he died as a hero."
"He was lost," his father told him. "A four year old can't fight battles. We just never said how we lost him, for safety reasons."
"We wanted you to grow up as you, not as a duplicate of him. Ziggy kind of had a rough life." His mother's look was sad. "We wanted your life to be better, the second time around. That's why we never said anything about who you were before. We wanted you to have your own life, not all of Ziggy's burdens and problems."
"So, I'm... him." He was a Ranger who had fought with his Mom and Dad. Except that he wasn't, because he didn't remember it at all. He wasn't that person.
He tried to bend his mind around the fact that he was the de-aged version of a war hero, and found he couldn't. The man wasn't him. Couldn't be. It was impossible.
"Only genetically." His mom put a hand on his shoulder. "And his memories up to age four. After that, as far as you knew, we adopted you."
They'd always been open about the fact that he was adopted, but he could have figured it out anyway. His mother was white and blonde-haired, his father was black, with dense, curly hair that he'd loved to play with when he was little. He himself had pale skin and wild, curly brown hair, and didn't resemble any of his relatives, even on the Landsdown side.
It felt like he was coming in the middle of things, or at least a life that somebody had already lived. "I want to know about me. Former me. Old me. Ziggy Grover." If it was true, if his parents weren't lying to him, then he wanted to know. He looked enough like their lost teammate that he might as well know anyway. Just in case something came up that he should know about.
"We're not sure," his father admitted, spreading his arms and hands out to rest them over his knees.. "Ziggy didn't talk a lot about his past. And given that he had a rap sheet longer than your arm...."
He vaguely remembered hearing from someone that Ziggy Grover hadn't been the ideal Ranger. He was sure it wasn't the history books, probably one of his parents' teammates had said something about it. Probably not his parents, but one of the more acid-tongued members, like Doctor K.
"If I'm him, I kind of have the right to know, don't I?" he asked. There were few things his parents and their teammates wouldn't tell him when he asked. They'd always been pretty honest with him.
"We'll tell you what we know," his mother said, "But it's not much. You're better off asking Dillon."
"Got it." Dillon was the one of his parents' teammates that he didn't know much about. The man tended to stay away from team gatherings, and was quiet when he did. His sister, Tenaya, was nice though, from the time or two that Ziggy had talked to her.
Ziggy looked at his parents' expressions and said, "You don't have to worry. I'm me, not him. I'm just curious, that's all. I'm sure you had a reason for telling me all this."
He'd never seen pictures of Ziggy Grover, not in textbooks and not in history books, which had surprised him, given the man had been lost in the Venjix war. He had a suspicion that he was why, now that he knew.
"Yeah." His father was leaning forward. "Because with his body, you inherited his morpher."
"I what?" That was his first reaction, anyway. After a moment, it made sense. DNA had been used as a security measure for the morphers in the the Venjix war, that and voice recognition.
His parents, their nervousness and worry, their finally telling him about all this, it all pointed to one thing.
They were going to war again.
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