Eugene "Skull" Skullovitch's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Skull crouched inside the Zord's hatch, staring at the journal that shouldn't be there. He hadn't left it. No one got close enough to leave anything — not since the Fallout turned him into something with claws instead of hands. The leather was worn smooth, the kind of old that meant someone had carried it for years. He reached for it, then stopped. His talons hovered over the cover. If he could figure out who left this, maybe he could figure out how to reverse what had been done to him. Maybe they knew something. The journal just sat there, waiting. He flexed his claws, willing them to be careful. The journal opened. Inside, pressed between the first two pages, lay a single feather. It shimmered pink and purple under the cockpit lights — colors he recognized. Orange Ranger colors, back when orange meant something other than what he'd become. His throat tightened. Someone knew what he was. Someone knew what he'd been. The pages were covered in neat handwriting. Names he almost remembered. Dates from before the Fallout. Technical notes about Ranger suits and mutation vectors. Someone had been tracking this. Someone had been looking for a way to reverse it. The last entry was dated three days ago. "Left this where you'll find it. You're not the only one looking for answers. Check the northwest perimeter at dawn." Skull closed the journal and stood. The Zord's interior felt smaller now, like a cage instead of shelter. He looked down at his talons, then at the journal clutched between them. For the first time since the Fallout, someone had given him a direction that wasn't backward. He moved to the hatch controls and set an alarm for dawn. Whatever was waiting at the perimeter, it was more than he had yesterday.