It's Morphin Time!

“Compose yourself,” the vampire commanded at last, with the cadence of an officer addressing a subordinate who had lost his bearing. “You’ve been given a gift, though it may not yet feel as such.” He paced a slow half-circle around Tommy, green eyes glinting in the fading light. “You ask what I have done? Look inward. You can feel it, can you not? That fire coiling in your veins… that ache deep in your marrow. That is hunger. That is power. That is mine.”

He halted before him once more, the authority in his tone still present, though his words softened to a quiet purr. “You are changed, Mr. Oliver. You belong neither wholly to the living nor the damned… but to me, and to her.”

When Tommy tried to speak again, perhaps to protest or curse him, James merely lifted a gloved hand. The thrall settled over the young Ranger like a velvet weight, smothering the last embers of resistance. “Easy now…”

His hand came to rest under Tommy’s chin, tilting it upward with the gentleness of a man examining fine glass. His thumb brushed across the blood that lingered on the corner of the Ranger’s mouth. “There. Still warm,” he mused pulling him back into the embrace of his thrall "Shhh… don’t fight it. You’re not meant to fight me, little fledgling. You’re meant to stand with me.” Nearly kissing him again for the blood flavor left behind though refrained.

Now he turned to look up at the skies, which were far too light for his liking.

“Lady Repulsa,” he calls to the clouds, “Your champion has been delivered unto you… remade, as promised.”

Tommy could only watch in a sort of daze as her presence began to fill his mind with horrifying visions. "Yes... yes!!..." She purred, moving closer to the two. "You feel it, don't you, Tommy. Your friends will all fall, just like you did. BUT!" Her pointer finger lifted up to emphasis her next words. "You can still save them. Wouldn't that be fun??" She tossed a slight glance towards Norrington. "Well, what do you think, hm? Would you want to have some fun with the other Rangers, or continue to play with him? The choice is yours, dear!!"

James’ grip shifted with ceremonial grace. The centuries of predation in him understood every stage of surrender, every tremor of a body caught between agony and rapture. With a flex of inhuman strength he lifted Tommy up, cradling him as though the Ranger were nothing more than a damsel in a movie. The remnants of the green suit’s high collar were pushed aside with a single flick of his clawed fingers, clearing the way for his mouth to remain at the boy’s neck a few moments longer.

When at last he drew back, James exhaled coolly against the wound, lips stained with the scarlet proof of his victory. He looked up at the Ranger’s flushed features...eyes half-lidded, body slackened by the euphoria... and allowed himself a faint smirk of satisfaction. Carefully, deliberately, James laid him down upon the earth, arranging him almost tenderly as one might place a cherished possession rather than a fallen foe.

His own hunger was not yet sated, but there was something greater at play than his thirst. A bond to be forged, a leash to be fastened. James turned his wrist over and, without hesitation, sank his fangs into his own flesh. Dark, rich blood welled up immediately, and he pressed the wound firmly against Tommy’s lips.

“Drink,” he whispered, voice low and commanding, almost coaxing. The thrall twined around the word, irresistible, a velvet snare tightening. “A taste… just a taste.”

The cool vitae spilled into Tommy’s mouth, an alien sweetness that burned and soothed all at once. It was unlike anything human blood could offer, tinged with centuries of power and shadow.

That confusion returned, and then the horror of what just happened to him and what he just did. "I..I..." A hand raised up to touch the light burning in his neck, and when it came back drenched in red he looked terrified. "What did I..." Of course he couldn't blame anyone but himself for this, for a weakness that was beyond his comprehension.

"You did to me!... And I..." His lips quivered, remembering the sweet taste of the other monster's blood, because now he was also one. "This isn't right! It's not right!" He tried to stand, but his body was still in some kind of shock, and slumped against the tree. If only he could've fought better, was the thought running in his mind. Yet, he couldn't shake off the other, more sinister thought that he enjoyed every second of their bodies being so close, or the way it felt having his blood taken. It both attracted and repulsed him to think on it all in that way!

James’ grip tightened, centuries of predatory instinct flooding to the surface now that the helmet lay in shattered pieces at their feet. The sight of the boy’s face—young, defiant, yet trembling with fear—was almost intoxicating on its own. But it was the eyes that mattered most. Once their gazes locked, James’ own sharpened emerald stare bored into Tommy’s very soul. The thrall crept in, silent and inexorable, wrapping around the young Ranger’s will like chains of velvet steel.

“Be still…” more than mere command even if his tone was silken, courtly even. The panic and fire in Tommy’s expression would be smothered under the invisible pressure of the thrall. James’ lips curled into something that was not quite a smile, not quite a snarl—an expression only a predator could wear when prey had ceased to struggle.

Fingers curling through Tommy’s hair, yanking his head back with precision that bordered on cruel elegance. James leaned in, so close that the Ranger could feel the unnatural chill of his breath mingled with a predatory warmth. His tongue traced languidly across that wounded lip, savoring the taste like fine wine. Fear and Boldness in flavor. The motion was almost a mockery of a kiss—slow, deliberate, lingering just long enough to blur the line between intimacy and menace.

“You wear your fear as boldly as that armor,” James murmured, voice low and vibrating against the boy’s mouth. “But I have survived centuries… and you? You have barely begun to live.”

Without warning, his lips drifted downward, trailing across Tommy’s jaw to the exposed curve of his throat. James inhaled deeply, the pulse thundering beneath skin calling to him louder than any battle cry. Then, with a suddenness that made the world lurch, he bit down.

There was hardly any time to register anything prior to this moment; the tongue lathering his busted lips, the closeness of this one's being to his, and then the sharp unraveling pain. All coaxed away by the alluring feelings of temptation and bliss. His mind became a mixed puddle of being dazed and confused, only hearing his heartbeat clinging to life. There was a slight ringing in his ears that he was minutely aware of, and he held on tighter to the monster that was now his Master, denial or not could shake that away.

"Don't stop." His request, more like a demand, came out in broken, shaky breaths. If he was to be damned to this, he was determined to ride it out to the fullest, even if his mind was still wrestling with the fact that he no longer was truly human. Unless that feeling in his chest was something else, and not the call of one's thrall.

Tommy Oliver per episode:

The copper tang hit him like a gunshot. James inhaled sharply, the scent igniting something far more primal than the measured patience he’d shown before. His jaw tensed, lips parting as a hiss, sharp and inhuman, cut through the park. His emerald eyes narrowed, pupils contracting to thin slits, glowing faintly like some nocturnal beast catching its prey in the dark.

“You ask why my queen does not come herself?” James snarled with command and hunger alike. “Because I am sufficient.”

Tommy’s charge met nothing but air. In the blink of an eye, James was upon him, his centuries of speed and precision making the Ranger’s enhanced strength look clumsy. One hand seized Tommy’s armored chest, the other bracing him hard against a nearby tree, bark splintering under the force. The helmet rattled beneath James’ grip as his fingers hooked under its edge, prying with deliberate intent.

"Agh! Let--let go of me!!" He felt his helmet pry off, shattering like liquid crystals, and the beauty of it was marred by the situation. Terror flooded his eyes as he watched this monster expose him to the elements once more, and his Ranger power simply was not responding to his command. Tommy was unable to free himself, and he felt completely trapped and under this one's mercy.

So, when his struggles ceased, wanting to reserve what he could of it, he simply glared at the other and tried to mask the fear dancing in his expression.

James stilled, emerald eyes narrowing as the ancient energy surged to life before him. He watched, unflinching, as flesh was swallowed by armor, helm snapping into place, and the boy became something more—something formidable. The glow of power unfamiliar and alien to James’ senses, yet unmistakably potent.

“Well,” James murmured, his voice low, almost approving in its cadence, “at last, the uniform matches the boast.” His lips curved into a wry smile, though there was no warmth in it—only the anticipation of the hunt. “I see now why my queen set such stock in you. A pity she must send me to drag you back into her fold.”

"Rita wants me that badly, huh? Then why didn't she come do it herself, instead of sending you??" He didn't even need an answer, and charged forward again with a fistful of anger. The frustration was ripe and still so fresh, ever-biting with that knowing feeling of inevitability that he would go back to her. Desperation filled him, not wanting to return to that mental prison where he was not himself. Hell, like I even know who I am now!?