There was a tense standoff in progress in front of a trendy boutique in downtown Silver Hills. Nadira, pink hair stirring in the breeze, stood in front of the door, arms draped with stolen clothes and hands clutching two fistfuls of stolen jewelry. Half-a-dozen cyclobots stood around her. She faced a squad of what appeared to be soldiers in someone’s personal army.

They were all hard-faced young men, wearing navy blue combat uniforms with padded elbows and knees, heavy equipment belts and harnesses, blue caps labeled “CGD”, headsets, sunglasses, black leather gloves with the fingertips cut off, and hip holsters for the small blasters they were all now aiming at her. Obviously in charge was a slightly older, but equally hard-faced man wearing a red beret and red braid around one shoulder.

Watching from across the street, Wes tensed as the red-bereted man paced a few steps along the line of soldiers and then stepped closer to Nadira. He stopped and loudly ordered, “Halt! You’re under arrest!” Nadira ignored him and started forward, followed by the cyclobots. The commander barked, “Fire!”

The soldiers followed orders, aiming at the cyclobots and avoiding Nadira. Their weapons struck with devastating results, sending some of the cyclobots crashing to the ground in showers of sparks to lie there still or twitching electronically.

“Her cyclobots are destroyed! ” Jen exclaimed. “Those blasters are almost as good as ours!”

Nadira was incensed. “What are you doing?” she screamed at the group of soldiers. “Who do you think you are?”

“We’re the Silver Guardians. We’re protecting this property!” the commander shouted back.

“You’ll pay for this!” she shrieked.

Wes moved forward a step. Jen touched his arm, murmuring, “Wait.”

Nadira noticed the group of unmorphed Rangers, obviously anxious to join the fight. With an angry glare for them, she triggered her teleporter and disappeared along with her remaining cyclobots.

The men in uniform immediately moved forward, inspecting the ruined robots for signs of ‘life’. Wes, Jen, Lucas, Katie, and Trip watched the storeowner rush out, pump the commander’s hand and thank him effusively, getting a polite but curt response. Then the commander recalled his troops and they began to pick up their equipment and head back to the SUVs they had arrived in.

Wes Collins and his friends had been walking home from their latest odd job, which had consisted of clearing garbage from a loading dock -- not a pleasant job under the summer sun -- when they had heard the sounds of blaster fire.

The last months had gone by surprisingly quickly. Ransik and his men -- or mutants -- had been lying low, undoubtedly preparing their next move. Nadira had given them some trouble with a string of petty robberies, her gang of cyclobots causing a considerable amount of fear and destruction. The Rangers had run into her several times, but she had always escaped by teleporter before they could capture her.

Wes’s father had made no attempt to contact him, leaving him to wonder if he had simply been forgotten, or written off as a loss. While he enjoyed the adventure of his new life, he struggled with homesickness, missing his house and the luxuries he no longer enjoyed. It was a big step from a well-staffed mansion to an under-heated clock tower furnished with cots and thrift-shop furniture. And he missed his father, more than he cared to admit.

They had been successful at the odd job business, getting enough work to take care of their needs. Strangely enough Wes found these small but necessary jobs more fulfilling than his former, highly paid job as a junior executive at Bio-Lab.

Most of their time, however, was spent in training, with Jen as the taskmaster. She drilled them unmercifully, and was hardest of all on Wes. He had surprised himself, and her, by accepting her authority, and working harder than he would have thought possible.

The best part was the friendships he had formed with his teammates from the future. He had gotten closer to them than to anyone he could think of. Trip; brilliant, curious, naive, as playful and eager to please as a puppy. Warm, generous, kind Katie, who mothered all of them and missed her own family painfully. Imperturbable, dependable Lucas, whose only weakness was the vanity that kept him in front of a mirror for a large part of his waking time. And then there was Jen.

Wes had become genuinely committed to their mission, but he also had to admit to himself that he was doing it to impress Jen. He had never had trouble attracting women with his looks, easy charm, and maybe most of all, his father’s money. Most women wanted his attention, although he privately thought the reasons had little to do with him. But Jen was different. Her honesty, strength, determination, and sadness attracted him, more than her physical beauty. He wanted to make her smile, especially at him. He wanted her respect and approval.

Wes was well aware that he was in love with Jen, but he was also aware that even if she returned his feelings, Alex’s ghost would always be between them.

The team watched the Silver Guardians as they carried their equipment back to their cars and prepared to leave, and saw one soldier glance in their direction, pause, then turn back and start toward them. He stopped in front of them, removing his sunglasses.

Like Wes, he was in his late twenties, about six feet tall and athletically built. He had a square, hard, handsome face, his eyes and black hair showing part Asian decent. It was a face Wes remembered very well, but had never expected to see again.

“Long time no see, Wes,” he said unsmilingly.

Wes grinned and stepped forward, holding out his hand. “Eric! What are you doing here?”

With deliberate rudeness, Eric moved his hands behind his back in a soldier’s at ease position. Wes awkwardly lowered his hand, trying not to show how much the rejection hurt.

“I’m working for your father, with the Silver Guardians.”

“My father? You work for Bio-Lab?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you know about us?”

“I... haven’t really been in touch with my father much,” Wes admitted.

Eric eyed Wes’s coveralls. “So what have you been doing?” he asked.

Unwilling to give the other man a chance to insult him by telling the truth, Wes shrugged. “Just hanging out with my friends.”

Eric gave him a glance that bordered on contempt and looked his friends up and down insolently, but all he said was, “Life’s one big vacation for you.” Which was bad enough.

At that moment the Guardians’ commander shouted, “Let’s go!” The cars were loaded and Eric’s companions were waiting for him.

Replacing his sunglasses, he told Wes, “I’ve got work to do. See ya around.” And in a moment he was gone.

Watching the SUVs pull out, Wes heard Katie remark, “What’s his problem?” Lucas grunted in agreement.

“Who was that?” Trip asked.

Wes frowned. “Eric Myers. We went to school together.”

“He didn’t act much like an old friend,” Lucas said.

“Well, we weren’t exactly friends…” Wes said. “We studied martial arts together. He was a great fighter. But he always had an attitude. Like he had to prove he was better than the rest of us. And then he dropped out in the last year. I never saw him again until -- now.”

They started back to their clock tower home, the others talking quietly about Nadira’s latest robbery and the appearance of the Silver Guardians. Wes walked silently, picking his way through some uncomfortable memories. There was a lot he hadn’t told his friends about Eric Myers.

It had been an exclusive -- and expensive -- prep school, full of the sons of the rich and famous. Eric had been out of place, a penniless kid who entered in the tenth grade on a scholarship for promising but underprivileged students. He had not fit in, and had no friends, both because of his background and because of his standoffish and sometimes hostile attitude.

Wes had been the only one who had made any serious effort to befriend him. Eric had responded at first, giving him glimpses of unexpected warmth and humor, and then inexplicably become distant again. Wes’s wealthy friends hadn’t helped, they had made their disdain for Eric clear. Wes had given up and moved on.

Then they had discovered they had a mutual interest in martial arts. Both had studied for years, Wes of course with the best instructors, Eric by working part-time at a training center. As the uncontested best fighters in the school, they became regular sparring partners. In fact few other boys were willing to practice with Eric, who seemed to enjoy beating them with humiliating ease. Wes and Eric developed a rivalry; it was casual on Wes’s side but quite serious on Eric’s.

Then, in twelfth grade, they both entered a mid-year sports tournament, including martial arts, put on by the school. It was a foregone conclusion that Wes and Eric were the only serious contenders in the martial arts event.

Wes was in it only for fun, and knew winning meant much more to Eric than to himself. In an attempt to be kind he did something he now realized had been a mistake. He held back, and let Eric win easily. Too easily, it turned out, because Eric guessed the truth, and confronted him. Wes, who had never been a good liar, confessed, and had been shocked and a little angry that Eric had been furious instead of grateful.

They had never spoken again after the tournament. Weeks later Wes had heard from a friend that Eric had packed his bags and left, after loudly announcing that he was sick of wasting his time in a school for lazy rich kids. Although Wes knew Eric hadn’t left because of him, he had still felt vaguely guilty. And now it seemed that Eric still held a grudge.

That evening they found out more about the incident they had witnessed. The evening news included several minutes of a press conference at Bio-Lab to announce the Silver Guardians’ first successful mission. The group saw Alan Collins -- much to Wes’s discomfort -- standing at a podium decorated with the same golden eagle emblem they had seen on the Silver Guardians’ cars and sleeves. The Guardian commander was beside him and a mass of microphones was in front of him.

“Bio-Lab’s Silver Guardians have averted a robbery today. I’m sure the entire city will sleep better knowing they’re looking out for us,” Collins was saying.

“Is it true that your Guardians will only protect clients who pay for their services?” a reporter asked.

“Collins Group Defense is not a government agency. We provide a service, and yes, we charge a fee.”

“What about the Power Rangers?” another reporter asked.

“The Rangers can’t be everywhere. If given the opportunity I’m sure Commander Porter and the Guardians will cooperate with them as much as possible.”

Disgusted, Wes grabbed the remote and changed channels. “Figures. He’s only doing it for money,” he muttered.

Trip was optimistic as usual. “But your dad’s helping to protect the city! That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“No, he doesn’t care about the city. He’s never shown any interest in this kind of thing before. He just sees a profit in it now.”

“Do you really think he’s that greedy?”

“You heard the report! The Silver Guardians only protect people who can pay for it.” Wes paused for a moment. “I used to look up to that man. I wanted to be just like him. But he doesn’t care about anything but money. He never really cared about me or what I wanted. Even I was just another… business venture.”

Lucas spoke up. “For money or not, the Silver Guardians are on our side. Maybe they’ll do us some good. We could use all the help we can get.”

“I don’t know,” Wes answered doubtfully. “We’re the only ones who have seen Ransik’s mutants at their worst. I don’t think they know what they’re getting into.”

“Our clients deserve the best protection possible. They’re counting on each and every one of you to give two hundred percent.”

In a Bio-Lab auditorium after the press conference, Eric sat in an audience of Silver Guardians, getting a pep talk from their employer. They had heard the same thing before, several times during their months of training. And as usual, Eric tuned it out. As the speech continued, his thoughts drifted back to his earlier encounter with his old rival. Eric also remembered prep school, but his memories were very different from Wes’s.

He hadn't been happy there. He had never had many friends, but being at a school for rich and snobbish kids had made things much worse. He could feel their contempt for him; see them look right through him as if he didn’t exist. No one invited him to the fancy parties or to visit on weekends. He saw their families and friends when they came to the school, and their sisters and girlfriends, high-class girls with perfect grooming and expensive clothes, the kind he would never have a chance with. He wasn’t good enough to even be introduced.

Wes had tried to be nice, at first, and Eric had liked him, at first. But his sympathy had started to feel like pity, and his friendship like charity, and Eric had started to resent him for that. And his friends had been as rude and snobbish as the rest of them. Before long Wes had obviously decided Eric wasn’t worth the trouble. He was just another spoiled rich kid who only cared about having a good time.

Then it turned out they had something in common, skill in martial arts. Eric had liked having Wes as an opponent; he enjoyed the challenge of fighting against someone with almost equal ability. Beating him was a chance to prove that he was better than any of them, at least in this.

Then the tournament had come. Winning -- especially beating Wes -- had become an obsession for Eric, and he had worked harder than ever to perfect his skills and condition. But when he won it had been obvious that something was wrong, that Wes hadn’t been fighting seriously. When Wes had told him the truth, he had been overwhelmed by humiliation and anger. What Wes had done had shown nothing but condescension and contempt, and even worse, pity; and had cheated him of a chance to prove himself.

Then, only a semester before graduation, his scholarship program had been dropped. Despite his intelligence, hard work and good grades, he had no way to afford to finish school. He dropped out, too proud to tell anyone the real reason, but with a growing resentment of the world of wealth and privilege that he had briefly seen from the outside. A world that had rejected him. A world that Wes had come to symbolize.

As the meeting broke up, Eric watched Mr. Collins leave the room. From what Wes had said, it was obvious that he was no longer on speaking terms with his father. He was a fool. He had started out with everything; money, connections, a father who handed him the kind of opportunities Eric had to fight for. And he had thrown it all away, as if it was nothing. Eric’s eyes narrowed.

You may have been given all the breaks. But we’ll see who comes out on top.