Rangers

[BryanI305]

The following is the first two chapters of a reboot of Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers I started and wanted some opinions on. I think that the CW could benefit from something similar to this, seeing as its highest rated shows are either teen dramas or sci-fi (or both), and an updated Power Rangers would be a masterpiece to them.

I tried to be different with my reboot. Sure, the violence will be kicked up a notch; but I'm also scaling up the subtlety instead of sacrificing it for action or explaining everything in an overt manner. Save for the parts where Rita begins the ass-kicking, this will be a mostly character-driven story.

Here's what I got so far. Note, there is some profanity here, but nothing extreme. Don't be afraid to let me know what they think.


RANGERS

Based on the series Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers

Bryan Martinez


CHAPTER I

The flowers were in bloom this time of year, fed by a liberated sun and the crisp mountain air. The hillside effortlessly carried them with the grace of a feather in a stream, yellow upon green; they were the soothing colors of the early springtime morning. The grass and flowers bent, pointing as if telling the cooling wind where to go, as if the wind itself was listless and went where it would.

Jason felt a tinge of jealousy and quickly smothered it. He rose from his cross-legged meditation, consciously focusing the muscles in his body, willing it to flow as naturally as the world around him, standing without his hands ever touching the bending grass. Jason knew that grace was not a matter of ease, merely the illusion of ease.

With the practiced certainty of having been done a thousand times before, Jason slowly cleaved the space in front of him with his right arm, rigid and sure, his hand flattened like a blade, palm down. His left arm terminated in a fist, held at a right angle at the elbow, sweeping in front of his face. His knees were bent but firm and his body swayed as gently as the rippling leaves on the nearby oak tree.

The daily ritual continued, his body performing without being told now, going through motions as if they were memories. Memories of when he was first taught them, his grandfather running them through him over and over again, until each shift of the body, each movement of his limbs was the embodiment of precision. Memories that blurred because all he could recall was the times that he’d learned something new, or when he was being taught something and he could not achieve success. Precision meant being lost to the ether; memories were only the trials.

Soon, Jason’s grace gave way to a different form, the form of practicality. He had centered himself, preparing for a more rigorous routine, one consisting of thrusts, sharp and fast. His arms and legs became like his memories, blurs that contained a substance hidden by time and space. The adrenaline coursed through him, fueling the passion that must be called on to drive him, to focus him, to perfect him. He could feel the rivulets of beading sweat as they began to make his skin slip, felt the muscles that rippled under that soon burn for rest, understood that although his body was telling his mind that it was time to stop, it did not yet know what its limits truly were.

Jason wished that one day his body would be honed enough as to have no limitations, that if he had to, he could keep it up forever. He knew it was impossible but that was still his goal. While he was alive, he could not fail.

Finally, his thrusts reverted into elegance and his arms and legs began their measured pace once more, before he finally placed his hands together and bowed forward, as if to an observer.

Which, he realized with a flash of disappointment, he knew he had today.

“You know, George Orwell said once that the whole point of being human was being able to accept imperfection,” his father said as he came up the hill, his business suit at odds with the surrounding environment.

Panting, Jason walked under the shade of the oak tree, picked up his towel and dabbed at his face and arms. He tried to enjoy the lingering feeling of solitude and nature that he had just been experiencing, but his father’s presence was like a solar eclipse. “Voltaire disagreed, Dad.”

“‘Perfection is attained by slow degrees; it requires the hand of time,’ I believe were his words.” Mr. Scott looked up into the tree, his hands behind his back. “But Voltaire lived in a more, uh, enlightened time, Jason.”
Grandpa Lee’s insistence on instilling a sense of spiritualism within the martial arts he taught Jason was met with some resistance from Mr. Scott. Jason didn’t know why that was at the time and his father had never shared the reason. But Mr. Scott’s refusal to answer was an answer in itself. Jason assumed now that his father was not the type of man who believed in anything unless it could be proven; his was a world of practicality and certainty.

Jason counted himself lucky in one regard. Despite Mr. Scott’s resistance to spirituality, he made the concession to allow Grandpa Lee to train Jason anyway. The patient, focused man, he reasoned, was a better business man anyway.

Jason began making his way back to their luxurious rural home at the bottom of the hill, his father in tow. It was the color of a ripe egg and done in the style of the old Southern manor. His father resented it but it had pleased his mother at the time. “Orwell lived in a time of fear and paranoia. His outlook on the future was pretty bleak.”

Mr. Scott laughed. “That he did.”

“Alright, Dad,” Jason said, stopping and assuming a stance of impatience. “You didn’t come out here to discuss the limitations of the human form. I have to take a shower before heading off to school so, if you would, please drop this pseudo-goodwill and get to the point.”

Mr. Scott hesitated, searching Jason’s eyes for something. “You’re right. And why wouldn’t you be?” He chuckled. “You’re my son. I’m glad I was able to teach you a thing or two about reading people before you so casually tossed away a classical education.”

“We’ve beaten this dead horse already. In fact, we’ve buried that dead horse and exhumed him just to beat him again, more times than I like to count.”

“A fitting metaphor, son, but the fact remains.” Mr. Scott followed his son as Jason turned and continued toward the house. “Wait, son, please. This whole debate about public schooling is getting tiresome. Jason, wait.”

Jason shrugged his hand away but stopped again to face his father. “Look, I think I’ve done my time at home and in those haughty little private schools your friends send their kids to. I’m sick of hearing about how terrible public school is, about how much better for me it would be at Daughtry.”

“Yes, I understand, Jason, but I don’t think you’re being challenged at Angel Grove High the way you would be at a better institution!”

“I’m taking those advanced placement courses and they’re challenge enough,” Jason responded. “Besides, high school in the public sector has its own set of challenges.”

“Like making friends?” Mr. Scott asked.

Jason paused.

“Not once since you started there have I seen any peers of yours hanging around here,” his father continued. “That was different when you went to Antigone Middle, when your friends were always around—”

“My friends? My friends? If I remember correctly they were just the children of your friends. I went to school with them. I wouldn’t exactly call them friends.”

His father sighed. “That’s because you never took the time to make any. You were always so distant and anti-social. If you had gone to other kids’ house or attended a few extracurricular activities instead of playing karate maybe you would have had some friends.”

“Don’t try and pin this on Grandpa, Dad, don’t you even dare.” Jason mopped at his hair, hoping that somehow he could mop up the mess that this relationship had become while he was at it. “Friends aren’t that important to me.”

“As I have unfortunately bared witness to over and over again. All this inward journeying has become a bane to you and your life, Jason. Contacts, son, contacts. In this world you need friends.”

“Shallow friends, backstabbing rivals and high-priced sycophants,” Jason retaliated. “The earmarks of the business of capitalism. I’m not interested in your world.”

“Jason—”

“Dad, I made my decision already and it’s not to follow in your footsteps. I made my decision to go to Angel Grove.”

“Son, you blackmailed me into it!” Mr. Scott said indignantly. “The only decision you made was when you decided to tell me that if I put you in at Daughtry you were going to purposely fail all your courses!”

“Like you said,” Jason said coolly, “I’m your son. Monkey see, monkey do.”

Mr. Scott through up his hands in exasperation, sighing. “Well, son, I don’t know what to tell you. I didn’t come out here to launch into an argument over your education again—”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happened, so spare me, Dad,” Jason said. “I’ve got to get to school.” He marched into the house, slamming the sliding glass door behind him, leaving his father to fume in the silence outside.

*********************

Jason nearly was late to school, having to run down the school bus because it had already passed his house. Though he was frustrated with his father for delaying him and consequently throwing off his time schedule, he welcomed the chance to push himself further, catching up with the bus at the next stop. Still, it would have been nice not to have sweat stains on his favorite red shirt, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Typically he sat alone. Save for the first day of school, he had never had someone make the mistake of sitting with him. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist: his social skills seemed to have been reset for prehistoric times and he knew that made him appear arrogant. Most students of Angel Grove High School weren’t of the higher classes (and if they were, they certainly didn’t take the bus) so they were very weary of rich guys playing with daddy’s money. To them, Jason Lee Scott, son of Alex Scott and heir to the Scott Company fortune, seemed to fit the bill.

Today was different. The seats were filled now and only a couple of them sat only one person. Jason wasn’t in the mood to be picky but a voice deep down told him to do something out of the ordinary. Maybe it was his father’s barbed comment about not having friends. In any case, he picked out a bespectacled kid with messy brown hair, jean overalls and a blue striped shirt he recognized from his Advanced Chemistry class.

“Can I?” Jason asked, though he knew he didn’t have to ask. Mostly, everyone just sat without regard to the current occupants’ sentiment.

“Oh, of course,” the kid said, moving his pack aside to allow space. “Yeah.”

“Uh, thanks,” Jason said, awkwardly, sliding in. Not entirely sure how to proceed but feeling committed to at least trying to make friends, he racked his brains for a conversation to take up with this guy, who seemed just as nervous about talking as Jason himself. “You have Chem with Mrs. Applebee, third period, right?”

“Yeah,” his new acquaintance said, surprised. “You’re the only other person in class that has an A. You’re Jason Scott.”

Jason suddenly flushed, trying to remember the kid’s name. “And you’re…”

The kid laughed, pushing up his glasses. “My name’s Billy. Billy Cranston.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t expect someone like you to know my name anyway.”

Jason cocked his head. “Someone stuck-up? Full of shit and money?”

“Well,” Billy said thoughtfully, “I suppose someone could come to that conclusion. I mean, some of the signs of classic conceit are there.”

“Wait a minute,” Jason said, holding up his hand. “You don’t think I’m a stuck-up asshole?”

Billy shook his head. “Of course not.”

“Everyone else seems to think so.” Jason couldn’t help but wonder at the sudden hint of sadness in his own voice.

“I wouldn’t know what everyone thinks,” Billy replied lightly, shrugging. “What friends I have aren’t interested in school gossip, just making the best grades possible so that we can get into an accredited college.”

Jason nodded, hoping to veer the course of the conversation away from himself. “I understand. I’ve seen some pretty dumb blocks get into a college that they don’t deserve to be in, while smarter men are turned down because they can’t afford tuition.”

“I’m shooting for scholarships,” Billy said, smiling. “They’re my ticket to better education.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit too early to be thinking of scholarships and colleges, Billy?” Jason asked, raising an eyebrow and laughing. “I mean, that looming mid-term for Chem seems like a more pressing threat right now.”

“It’s never too early to be looking towards the future, I think.”

Jason had to admit that Billy was right. What did his future hold? “I suppose. What do you want do be? I mean, what do you want to major in?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Billy replied, and he said it with a certainty that told Jason that he had already had this conversation at least once before. This Billy kid seemed to invite that particular conversation. “Probably something to do with science. It’s just—I know this sounds weird, my dad says so, anyway—but my there are so many fields of science that interest me. I don’t really know which one I want to specialize in. How about you?”

“I haven’t really dwelled on it. One thing I’m sure of is that I don’t want to have anything to do with the business world.”

Billy nodded sagely. “I figured as much.”

“What?” Jason said, taken aback.

“I don’t know. I just had you pegged for the overly-focused, borderline-obsessive guy. The kind of guy that tends to be socially inept, the kind of guy that usually tends to be a geek, like me. You don’t have the same kind of personality the businessman has—social, persuasive, that kind of thing.”

“Borderline-obsessive, huh?” Jason said. “Really?”

Billy looked a tiny bit frightened, as if he was afraid of saying the wrong thing to Jason, but he kept going anyway. “Well, yeah, I mean, you know—uh, I’ve never seen you in a conversation with anyone but the teacher, you know? You never talk to any of the girls who eye you like a piece of meat and I will tell you there are some lookers checking you out, fella.” He coughed, probably realizing his attempt at lingo had failed. “From what I’ve observed, you’re just the picture of efficiency. Anything that isn’t necessary isn’t done.”

Billy squirmed uncomfortably, noting the frown on Jason’s face. “At least, that’s what I’ve seen.”

“Relax, Billy,” Jason said, not oblivious to Billy’s discomfort. “I’m not upset with you or anything. You’re right.”

“But you are upset.” It was half a question, half a statement.

“Yeah,” Jason muttered, but didn’t elaborate on his feelings. He didn’t want to think about them either.

For a few minutes, the sounds of other conversations and the rumbling of the bus down the road filled the silence that had fallen between the two peers. Finally, Jason looked at his fellow student and said, “What do you think I should do?”

Billy seemed startled by the question. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, to get myself out there, to be more…social?”

“You’re asking me?” Billy scoffed.

“You do have friends, you said so yourself.” Jason shrugged. “You’re one step ahead of me.”

Jason didn’t get an answer at first. Billy sucked in air through his teeth and seemed to think deeply about Jason’s query. At last, Billy looked at him. “Well, I think the first step you should take might be to talk to someone in class.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Jason said, disappointed in the answer. “In my experience, high school kids are either dense or shallow, and always at extremes. They’re only interested in what they’re doing after school or that weekend, or something stupid like that. I’m not interested in that world.”

And so what world are you interested in, Jason?

“After school…” Billy said distantly. “Well, that’s an idea.”

“What’s an idea?”

“Why don’t you join an after-school club or extracurricular activity or something? I mean, we’ve got a Science Club…I’m president.” At the look on Jason’s face, he continued. “There’s also a bunch of sports, too, you can play. You look like you could play football. Maybe you can join the team.”

“If there’s a bigger bunch of dense and shallow people in the world, we wouldn’t make it into the next century,” Jason said with a smirk, but he brightened. “They wouldn’t happen to have a martial arts club or something, would they?”

“If by ‘they’ you mean the school, that’s a no,” Billy said apologetically. “No tolerance on violence.”

“The martial arts aren’t about violence, they’re about discipline and form,” Jason rebuked indignantly.

Billy didn’t seem perturbed by Jason’s sudden outburst; in fact, he seemed comfortable with Jason already. Jason was surprised by the new sensation that bloomed inside of him with that realization, surprised and pleased.

“I doubt the school will see the distinction, Jason,” Billy replied. He was suddenly very interested, his eyes widening. “Why, are you into kung-fu and stuff?”

“I know a couple of different forms,” Jason said absently, “including kung-fu. It’d be nice to discuss form and function with someone else who loves to do it.”

“The school might not let you have a club,” Billy said, “but Ernie’s been looking for something to spruce up his place for awhile now. Maybe you can start up a karate program or something. Heck, Jason, you could probably make a buck or two while you’re at it. Oh, uh, not that you need it or anything.” Billy fell quiet, embarrassed.

“No, no, I think you’re on to something there, Billy,” Jason said contemplatively. “Who’s Ernie?”

“Ernie owns the Juice Bar and Fitness Center across from campus,” Billy said, looking at him oddly. “You’ve never been?”

Jason shook his head.

“Alright, do you have time after school today?” Billy asked, looking over the seat.

Jason saw they were pulling into the school and shouldered his bag. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“Then we’re going to rectify your problem. Ernie serves the best drinks in town; non-alcoholic and all healthy, of course.”

“Of course,” Jason said, getting up as the bus came to a stop. “Are you sure about this? I mean, me at the head of a class of people? Don’t you think it’s a little ambitious as a jumping off point?”

“Nah,” Billy said, following him down the aisle and gripping his shoulder. “It’s like getting in cold water. You’ll never get in if you just ease into it. You just have to take a dive and hope for the best.

“Besides, I’m living proof that it’s not impossible for Jason Scott to make friends.”



CHAPTER II

Trini Kwan let the newspaper drop in frustration. She pressed her palms in her eyes and let out a little groan. She heard Ernie, the heavyset owner of the Juice Bar, lumber over to where she sat at his counter.

“What’s up, Trini?”

Trini’s eyes glared down at the newspaper as if it could suddenly change the bad news it had just given her. Running her hand through her long, straight black hair, she said, “It looks like city council decided that funds were too tight to set up a clean-up commission.”

“Oh,” Ernie said. “I guess you were hoping for that?”

“A little,” Trini replied unenthusiastically. “I only sent them signed petitions, hand-written letters from concerned Grovers and all manner of pollutants I picked up. I did everything I could short of organizing the damn thing myself.”

“Well, why don’t you?”

Trini looked at him for the first time since the conversation started. “I tried that. Most of those concerned Grovers were into it at first but eventually they lost interest or had more important things to do. If they’re not paid to do it, most people just forget about it. Besides, a job like that requires a lot of manpower. Angel Grove is saturated with pollution and a small group like what I had wouldn’t dent it.”

Ernie grunted. “So you’d need something like a city-commissioned organization to do anything.”

“Yeah.”

“That blows, Trini, I’m sorry. Anything I can do to help?”

Trini gave him a half-hearted smile. “Maybe just a strawberry milkshake.”

“Coming right up.”

“Thanks, Ernie.” Trini folded the newspaper neatly and leaned her elbow on the counter, holding her chin in her hand. She thanked Ernie again when he brought her the shake and she sipped it indifferently, despite it probably being the best milkshake in town.

Hoping to get her mind off the injustice, Trini looked around the community center to see if anybody she was friends with were about. A few people were taking advantage of the fitness equipment and a boy she recognized from Angel Grove High was breakdancing on the main floor, his black tank top stained even darker from the workout. Otherwise, the place was fairly empty. There was a small group of friends sitting at one of the tables next to her and a couple kissing at the other end of the bar.

Not one of them she knew. The Juice Bar would get busy later, when most of the students from AGHS got bored of lingering around the school talking to friends who were going home or leaving for some part-time job. At which point Ernie would be swamped.

She was about to gather her things and leave when a pair of students she knew from school came ambling through the door. The first was a thickset but youthful-faced gorilla, his long brown hair tied back in a smart ponytail; the second was much thinner, with lanky legs and arms, his face scrunched in an eternal smirk underneath his spiky black hair. They both wore tight-fitting blue jeans and attire fitting for any punk of the new millennium.

Despite being freshman like her, Trini was all too aware of the reputation that “Bulk” and “Skull” had already created among themselves. They weren’t just bullies: being a bully was far too clichéd. They were something more, something just shy of being a gang; the pair were sadists and the slippery kind too. They typically hung out by themselves and didn’t even associate much with the other punks in the school. Bulk and Skull preferred to be their own clique and there wasn’t a soul Trini knew who wasn’t aware of it.

Trini decided to stay. They rarely came into the Juice Bar for any reason and the few times that they had, Trini had heard, there had always been some sort of commotion before they left. Trini’s instinct was that they were itching for some of their own brand of fun.

“Oh, no,” Ernie muttered. “Not those two again.”

Trini watched them as they scanned the center, probably looking for a problem. “Why don’t you just kick them out, Ernie? I mean, you do have the right to refuse service to anyone, don’t you?”

“Yeah, at the bar,” Ernie said. “The community center is public. And to be honest, I don’t think the police would find what those two do as worthy of their time.”

“No, they probably wouldn’t.” Trini followed them with her eyes as they made a beeline for a round blonde boy pedaling a stationary bicycle. Since the center was still empty, she didn’t need to strain much to hear the conversation.

Bulk stood behind the boy, watching his progress for a moment. The boy just tried to ignore him and Skull, who was leaning against a nearby wall, obnoxiously chewing his gun, pedaling that much faster, as if it could take him away from the storm he knew was brewing.

“Hey, Jeremy,” Bulk said amicably, giving the fakest smile Trini had ever seen. “How’s the exercise regimen going?”

The boy named Jeremy licked the sweat off his lips. “Go away, Bulk.”

“Now, is that anyway to talk to a friend, Jeremy?”

“You’re not my friend,” Jeremy rebuked. There was a hint of apprehension in the timid way he said it.

Bulk feigned shock. “What? I’m devastated, Jeremy. Just devastated. Here I thought we were such good pals, you lending your notes to me so I could study and all.”

Jeremy didn’t look at him. Trini couldn’t tell if he was trembling out of fear or fatigue. “I didn’t lend you a damn thing, Bulk. You stole those notes so that you could copy them.”

“That’s a serious accusation, Jeremy,” Bulk said impressively. “Skull, what do you think?”

“Very serious,” Skull mumbled darkly. “Very, very serious.”

“We wouldn’t want that kind of thing to get out, Jeremy, it could ruin our reputations, it would.”

Jeremy’s face was fast running red. “I don’t care.”

“But you do care,” Bulk said, leaning in. He stuck his foot out in the way of Jeremy’s pedaling. The impact thrust the surprised Jeremy into handlebars, knocking the wind out of him.

Trini stood up abruptly, noticing that the breakdancer had stopped to watch as well. She heard Ernie slam down a cup he was holding.

Bulk looked around the center as if daring someone to accuse him of what he’d just done. No one spoke for a moment. Then he politely helped Jeremy back into the chair and whispered something that made Jeremy’s red face drain to white. Bulk slapped him friend-like on the back and then started to walk away.

Jeremy buried his face in the arms he had draped on handlebars, his back rising and falling quickly.

Trini, along with everyone in the room, watched Bulk and Skull’s every move as they headed for the exit. But as they made it to the door they slowed to a stop: barring their way, his arms crossed and his stance steady, was a muscular teenager in a red shirt. His face was set and nearly expressionless and yet it maintained a level of ferocity she hadn’t ever seen before in someone so young.

Bulk and Skull looked at each other, and then the latter moved right into the newcomer’s face. “Move.”

The guy in the red shirt did no such thing.

Skull repeated the demand, much louder this time.

It was met only with more staring, the face unreadable.

“If you don’t move, we will move you,” Skull said.

“You’re not leaving,” he replied after a beat, “until you go say you’re sorry.” He was addressing Bulk, looking right through Skull as if he wasn’t there.

Bulk scoffed. “Nothing to say sorry for.”

“I saw what you did.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Then you’re a liar too.”

“Get out of the way, asshole.”

“No.”

“Fine.”

Trini gasped as Skull swung. It was only a second after it was over that she realized what had happened. Skull’s arm hadn’t connected with anything but a perfectly placed vertical block, which redirected the momentum of the swing into the air above them. Skull’s milliseconds of surprise were enough for the red-attired teen to grasp Skull’s wrist, turn him around and catch the other wrist. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, the guy kicked the back of Skull’s knees, causing the punk to crumble to the ground.

Bulk, too, was stunned, whether from the audacity or the speed in which it was done.

The guy uttered one word: “Go.”

Bulk turned to Jeremy, who was intent on the happenings. “Sorry.” It was insincere and full of spite, but it seemed to satisfy the newcomer.

He brought Skull to his feet again and shoved him through the door. “Get out.”

The guy didn’t even wait for Bulk to follow Skull out the door, merely walked up the steps to the bar, with an awed-looking sandy brown-haired boy in tow. She recognized him as Billy Cranston. He’d helped her study for her first Math mid-term. He was sweet if a bit geeky.
What he was doing with a guy who looked like he played sports was a mystery to her. Angel Grove High was known for its cliques.

Entranced by Billy’s companion, Trini sat back down on her chair and only when her eyes met his did she realize she was staring. Blushing suddenly, she redirected her attention to the newspaper, pretending to read it. The object of her fascination did not seem to notice what he’d done to her.

“Are you Ernie?” he asked to the Juice Bar’s owner.

The admiration on Ernie’s face was as easy to see as it was on Billy’s. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Hi, I’m Jason.” Jason extended his hand, which Ernie eagerly shook.

“Good to meet ya, Jason,” Ernie said. He said hello to Billy and then turned back to the newcomer. “Thanks for setting those two straight. Maybe they’ll think twice about doing something stupid like that again. Can I get you a shake or something? It’s on the house.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that,” Jason said, eyeing the hordes of AGH students who were starting to file in. “Especially not now. I just did what I felt needed to be done. Besides, I’m willing to bet those two idiots aren’t going to change because I scared them once. I got to admit that what I did just made me their number one target.” He paused. “I do have one favor to ask, though.”

“Shoot.”

Surprisingly, Trini noted, he seemed to become embarrassed. “Well, Billy here told me that you were looking to rejuvenate the community center. I guess give it a little more pop. I was wondering if it would be okay if I started up a kind of martial arts and defense class here. I think that should draw in a crowd.”

Apparently, Ernie didn’t even have to think about it. “Consider your class sanctioned, kid.”

Jason looked like he couldn’t believe his ears. “Are you serious? Just like that? Shouldn’t I have, like, an interview or an application or something?”

“After a demonstration like that?” Ernie chuckled. “That was your interview, kiddo. You really impressed my big ass. You intend to charge?”

“Yeah,” he said, somewhat ashamedly, “but that’s only to keep away those who aren’t serious. If I held open classes then anyone could come and I’d be wasting my time on people who will only join up for a day or two. Or to learn something they won’t ever understand. Besides, I won’t be keeping the money. I’ll be donating it to the community center.”

Ernie’s eyes were comically wide. “You serious?”

“Yeah,” Jason said, almost as if it were strange he should be asking such a thing. “I don’t need the money and I’m sure it could help buy some new equipment.”

“Hell yeah, it would,” Ernie blustered. “When do you want to start?”

Billy finally spoke. “What about tomorrow, Jason?”

Jason considered it for a moment. “Not sure if that’s such a good idea. I mean, I’ve been practicing so many different forms for so many years that I’ve kind of got them jumbled in my head. It’s going to take a few days to separate them so that I’ll be able to teach them.”

“Fine by me,” Ernie said. “How about next Monday? That’ll give you time to, uh, karate out your thing and it’ll give me time to make up some flyers to hang around.”

“I’ll help!” Trini blurted. She felt her face grow hot again as Jason, Billy and Ernie turned to look at her. “I mean, I can put up some flyers around the school. If you want.”

Jason smiled at her. “That’d be great. I’m Jason.”

“Trini,” she mumbled as she shook the hand he had held out. He seemed to be staring deep into her heart. She cursed the fluttering in her chest for he was sure to have heard it.

“Well, thanks, Trini.”

“You’re welcome,” Trini said weakly.

Jason turned to Ernie. “A good time to start would be 4:30, cool, Ernie? That should be enough time for any AGH students to get here and get dressed.”

“Perfect, kid,” Ernie said, jotting a few things down on a napkin. “Are you sure I can’t interest you in a shake?”

Jason looked at Billy, who gave him an encouraging nod. “Are you going to let me pay for it?”

Ernie smiled. “If you insist.”

[BryanI305]

CHAPTER III

Zack had watched the whole Bulk and Skull situation with a sense of irritation. It wasn’t that he cared what they did. For all it mattered, Bulk and Skull could have hung the fool by his underpants on the flagpole outside. It made no difference to Zack.

The only reason Zack had temporarily abandoned his exercise was that his whole audience had turned to watch the show. What was the point of busting his ass to look good if no one was looking?

He’d been little impressed with the white jock who’d thrown Bulk and Skull out on the street and was even less impressed with the way he handled himself in front of Ernie. Just being in the company of that anal little geek Billy was enough for Zack to log the honky named Jason under worthless. Zack was only surprised that he’d never noticed Jason before since he prided himself on knowing almost everyone’s name.

Now that the hubbub was over, Zack could get back to his dancing. Tired of the music that Ernie had put on the speakers (typically white rock music), Zack grabbed the iPod out of his bag and switched his world to one of hip-hop and trance. Whilst others did push-ups or worked on the machines, he preferred maintaining his body in a less repetitive form. He had no patience for the monotony of working out the old fashioned way. So his dance moves served as the perfect workout, honing every muscle he knew about into a hardened, beautiful image.

The ladies definitely loved it. Some of them did, anyway. The ladies who had witnessed the scuffle were glancing in the Jason dude’s direction every once in a while. The long-haired Asian chick in the yellow blouse (he overheard her name as Trini) was almost outright staring at the poor bastard.

On the other hand, girls were still coming in from the school. And the ones who weren’t immediately whispered the details of the incredible Jason were checking Zack out. Everything balanced out, he supposed.

He worked his body for a while afterwards until he missed a move he usually got. Satisfied that his body was now exhausted, Zack gathered his things, pulling his earphones off and throwing the iPod into his bag.

He was about to head over to a gaggle of girls to get their opinion on his biceps when he noticed Ernie moving purposefully to the railing of the Juice Bar, which looked out over the entire community center. In his hand he held a piece of paper. To silence the unknowing crowd, Ernie went straight for the high-pitched whistle, followed by: “YO!”

“Geez, Ern, think you could tone down that frequency?” Zack asked, caressing his ear in jest.

“No,” Ernie said flatly. Then he spoke to everyone. “Listen up, kiddos. Today is Wednesday, right? Right. Now for those of you who don’t pay any attention to flyers I’m gonna give it to you straight here. Next week, starting Monday, we’re going to start hosting a karate class.”

“Martial arts!” the geek Billy interjected behind him.

Ernie rolled his eyes. “Correction, we’ll be hosting a martial arts class, headed by this guy over here.” He pointed at Jason. “This will not be free, smiling faces, so don’t think of joining up just to spend a little quality time learning to kick through wood or whatever it is you do in those classes. Classes will be $10 a day, got it?” He held up the paper. “You want in? Sign this, you pay me straight on the day you karate and then you’re all Jason’s. Any questions? Doesn’t matter, ‘cause I think I made myself clear and there shouldn’t be any questions. If you manage to create a question, Billy, shoot it at Jace, not me. Go back to your crap.” Ernie tacked the sign-up sheet to the wall next to the Juice Bar entrance then returned to his place behind the counter, giving a smile to Jason on the way there.

Zack gave himself a small grin, surprised by his own interest. It sounded fun enough, he supposed. Was there ever a person who was disadvantaged from learning a little bit of karate? It would be a good exercise after all. But was kung fu the same stuff over and over again? Or was it something fresh every class?

He didn’t know the answer. Despite his curiosity, his interest immediately spiked when some of the girls shot towards Jason to get in their “questions.” Shaking his head, he reasoned that whatever awaited him in Jason’s class probably had a full chest and a sexy body anyway.

That was good enough for Zack.

Skipping up the steps to the Juice Bar, he passed the Trini girl as she gathered her things up sullenly, obviously not as happy about the class as himself. Her loss, Zack thought.

He was about to wade into the small throng when Jason emerged from there, looking completely out of his element. There was an almost comical look of being overwhelmed and exasperated. He held up his hands and spoke as if he couldn’t imagine why he was the highlight of attention, “Hold on, guys, wait a second. We’re in people’s way here. I’m going to head on over to the other side of the community center; those who have real questions, about the class, please feel free to ask.” He didn’t say the obvious, that people with stupid or personal questions should beat it, but it seemed to be as clear as day to some of the ladies, who immediately skulked back to wherever they were before.

More stubborn girls dutifully followed him, as did the Billy kid and a couple of seemingly interested people, Zack included.

Jason positioned himself with his back facing the wall. “Alright, I’ll open up the floor for any questions.”

Humorously, most of the ladies were content to just stand in the crowd looking at him. A couple more serious exercisers, however, were the first with their hands up.

Jason chose an over-ecstatic Billy for the first question. “Yeah, what can you tell us about the karate moves we’ll be learning?”

“Well, again, it’s not exactly karate I’m going to be teaching, though we will be using some basic karate principles in our regimen. This is a martial arts and defense course. If you’ve taken a specific martial arts class before, like tae kwon do or karate, this will be a very different experience. I will eventually open up more advanced classes for the students who want to learn individual forms but to begin we’ll be practicing just the basics. Anyone else? Yeah, you in the pink?”

“Uh, Kimberly,” said a pretty girl Zack knew from English class. Despite her beauty and the notoriety she had for being a complete ditz, she did not appear to be part of Jason’s fan club, looking positively serious. “Like, what days will you being do this? And if you, like, miss a class or something, will you fall behind?”

“Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. I’ll be here on the weekends so that anyone who wants extra lessons or to catch up if they skipped a class or two. So you shouldn’t have to worry about missing class,” Jason said. “I intend to design the class so that if you miss a class or two, you’ll be fine anyway.”

Zack chimed in. “So we’ll be moving slower than a virgin?”

Jason didn’t laugh with everyone else. “Not necessarily. But you should expect to go through moves until you’ve mastered them, learned them by heart. In each class we will learn a different move. Going back to what Kimberly asked, you will have the opportunity to learn those moves with me, while the rest of the class is practicing, if you miss the class it was taught in. That way, everything keeps moving.”

Zack was pacified but not really satisfied. He’d take this class but his enthusiasm for the chicks and the fact that his weekend job paid for it were about the only reasons he was going to go through with it.

“So are you going to participate in this particular extracurricular activity?”

Zack turned to face Billy with an incredulous face. “What the hell did you just say?”

Billy’s inquisitive and eager face gave way to a frown. “I asked if you were going to participate in this particular extracurricular activity?”

“That’s what I thought,” Zack said, shaking his head. Man, turn down the geek dial, he thought. Ignoring the nerd, Zack turned back to Jason, who was just finishing up with the last question.

“Anybody else?” he was asking. “No? I’ll see all those who are serious about this on Monday. Don’t forget to sign up on the sheet. See you then.”

Zack watched as Billy, unperturbed by Zack’s veiled insult, brushed passed him.

“Hey, Jason!” Billy said. “Task accomplished, right? You overcame your trepidation concerning social atmosphere and emerged with flying colors. I commend you.”

Jason smiled tolerantly. “Uh, thanks, Billy.”

“But I’m not exactly convinced that you did not have previous social experience.”

“I’m not sure if I could call any of those people friends, or even acquaintances,” Jason answered. “This is like a student-teacher relationship, nothing more. Besides, I’ve picked up a few things from all those boring business events and galas Dad dragged me off to. Multi-millionaires like Dad droning on about how great they were and all. I was mimicking what I’d seen.”

“Well,” Billy said, “it’s a first step that’s as good as any.”

Jason amicably put his hand on Billy’s shoulder.

Zack almost threw up in his mouth. But being in such close proximity, just watching the two talking, must have looked stupid to any onlookers, so Zack decided to insert himself into the conversation.

“Son of a multi-millionaire, huh?”

Jason seemed a little startled to see Zack still here. He crossed his arms. “Yeah. Jason Scott.”

Zack laughed. “Here? At friggin’ Angel Grove High? What rich white guy sends his kid to a school like AGHS?”

“Who says he sent me anywhere?”

What are you doing, Zachary Taylor? But Zack ignored the voice in his head. “I just figured the sons of rich white guys got the best education money could buy.”

“Yet here I am,” Jason said impassively.

“Here you are.”

“And you are?”

“Name’s Zack. I’ll be in your class. Not like you need my money.”

Jason nodded, glancing off passed Zack’s head before settling into a stare worthy of a stature, right into Zack’s eyes. “If you’re serious about what I’ll be teaching then I look forward to having you in my class.”

“Bet you do,” Zack said, licking his lips. “That’s what rich white folk do best, isn’t it? Take a little bit of money from the poor, pretending to be helping them. Yeah, I look forward to being there too.”

“Well, let’s just hope you keep your enthusiasm down during class.”

Billy stepped between Zack and Jason. “Hey, fellas…”

“We’re having a polite conversation, Billy,” Zack said, firmly pushing him aside.

“Don’t touch him like that again,” Jason said slowly.

Zack couldn’t help himself, moving right into Jason’s face. “Excuse me? I don’t like being told what to do.”

“I don’t like bullies.”

Zack felt an angry pang shoot through him. “Ironic, isn’t it? Being a bully is what feeds you, clothes you and shelters you. Your little—”

Suddenly, Billy was turning away from the conversation, his face a mask of horror. “Hey, Ernie, what was that?”

“What was what?” Ernie said, handing a girl a drink over the small television set he kept on the counter.

Billy ran up the steps to the bar, squeezing passed a few kids to get to the TV. Jason was right behind him. “What’s wrong, Billy?”

Zack’s ire faded into curiosity and he followed the duo to the television

Billy didn’t answer Jason, opting only to turn up the volume.

The news anchor was nearly out of breath. “—all contact with the shuttle and its crew. Once again, if you’re just tuning in, the recent lunar expedition, codenamed ‘GEKI,’ has mysteriously ceased contact with Cape Canaveral. CNN’s Dan Patrick has the story.”
Nearly everybody in the Juice Bar was quiet now, listening intently to the television.

Dan Patrick, the reporter, stood on the lawn outside Cape Canaveral’s launch area, grimly telling the story. “The Geological Exploratory Kent Initiative, or GEKI for short, was started by Dr. Terrence Kent as a way to survey the surface of the Moon for evidence of organic residuals that may have been left behind by the numerous meteor impacts the Moon has sustained. However, Cape Canaveral has lost contact. After the shuttle landed, with Dr. Kent, two assistants and three shuttle crew aboard, Canaveral began broadcasting their transmissions via internet podcasting, a world first. This is the last transmission of the GEKI team. It has been edited.”

Patrick was replaced by a screen that was transcribing the transmission. “This is Colonel Brady of Shuttle Imperium, confirming that we have just landed on the lunar surface. Scientific crew is prepared for initial scan of area; we will be allowing them to disembark momentarily. All lights green…”

This must have been the first edit, as suddenly Brady’s voice became very excited. “Dr. Kent has just reported his initial survey of the area has discovered something. He says it is an object of indeterminable weight but only a foot and a half high, partly buried into the surface. Dr. Kent says that it is probably a very recent meteorite strike to the surface as we landed on the same patch of the Moon as Armstrong and his crew…”

“I have lost contact with Dr. Kent. From our staging area, we could barely see him and his people; he refused to await instructions from the Brass concerning the rock and told me he was going to have it brought back to the shuttle for further study. We noticed what looked like a bright light in the direction of Dr. Kent before we lost visual contact and audio contact with him. Repeat we have lost contact with Dr. Kent and will be investigating the situation. Colonel Brady out.”

Daniel Patrick was back on the lawn. “What has become of the GEKI crew of Shuttle Imperium? Current official speculation points to disruption and/or malfunctioning of vacuum gear, explaining both the loss of contact and the flash of light. If this is the case, we can expect to hear from these brave souls shortly. We will bring you updates as we receive it. Reporting for CNN, this is Dan Patrick.”

Billy turned away from the television as the segment ended, replaced by the regularly scheduled program, a sitcom. “Well, fellas, I believe that’s enough excitement for today.” He pulled out a cell phone from his backpack.

“Alright, man,” Jason said as Billy sullenly waved as he headed out the door, phone to his ear. “See you later.” He turned to Zack, who was surprised to see that he didn’t seem to recall their recent tension. “I hope those guys up there are okay.”

Zack scoffed a little bit, consciously putting the astronauts out of his head. “There’s nothing we can do for them so what’s the point in worrying about it?”

“Compassion.”

“I got lots of that,” Zack replied. “What I don’t have is a lot of time. Sorry if they don’t fit high on my list of people to feel sorry for.”

“There shouldn’t have to be a list,” Jason said, almost selling the sad look on his face. Zack even had to remind himself that this guy’s family were pirates, preying on the weak and gorging themselves on the corpses.

“Well, you can dream of a utopia, man,” Zack said, “but it’s too much for my black ass. Besides, so what if those people died? The world’s going to mourn their loss for a month or two and then they’ll forget. Mark my words, rich boy, what happened today, way the hell up there in the sky…it won’t change the world.”

[FlashmanX]

my god so many people do rewrites of season 1

but done the cw way sounds interesting I'll have to read this soon

[geno]

Well this is one of the more interesting takes I've found. So I'll be reading it

[BryanI305]

Thanks, guy. I'm not surprised there are a lot of other S1 reboots; it was after all the series that began this whole thing. The reason I chose it is because MMPR is pretty much all I know. I stopped watching sometime during the third season so I don't know much else. I do appreciate any criticisms you guys want to level at me. I took university creative writing courses: I can handle it.

[night ranger]

more spacing between lines, this is cramed together

[BryanI305]

Yeah, I know. In my word it's double-spaced but I couldn't figure out how to space it apart here, aside from manually doing it. I might have to but until I find the free time to do it...

[TSoldier]

Ok, so as a huge fan of MMPR, I stumbled across this fic and thought I'd give it a go. I must say that over all you have a very unique approach to your remake of MMPR's Season 1. Rarely have any other remakes go so far as to recant the genesis of the entire group dynamic, as opposed to going straight to providing super powers to a group of friends who are already close yet, for all intents and purposes, a bit too socially and culturally diverse to not have a bit more interesting tale behind how it is they met and became close and what not.

You also have a very good writing style and you make sensible use of analogies that better describe an emoition or setting than by way of more succinct vocublary; your writing manages to evoke images and senses very well. As far dialogue, well...dialogue is a huge draw for me, personally. It's just a powerful vehicle in stories in a lot of ways. A lot of authors don't relaize that the words a character uses, or the way that they use them can be just as character- and personality-defining as the actions, thoughts and behaviors of that person. On top of that, I don't know many fics that never fell into that pit of fics that employed the use of generic dialogue that can be copied and pasted to any other character. That said, I kind of kept swaying back and forth in regards to the dialogue you employed for your characters here. The pithy nature of some of your dialogue kept it from falling into the same pit full of bland, generic, undistinguished dialogue that most other fics have. Your use of coarse language also helped to achieve this, however, I felt that it was also a little bit of a disservice to the characters who were using it, and I'm not certain why. I think part of it has to do with the fact that it's use, especially to the degree that some of your characters, like Ernie, was using it not only completely changed the nature of the character's as we are familiar with them from the show, but it also was one of several attributes that just didn't make them likeable. But, really, there isn't a problem with changing the character types from how we traditionally know them to be. It is a problem for me, just because I view MMPR in a certain way and feel that there are probably a few things that could stand to see some changes, but not necessairly as drastic of ones as your depictions of Zack and Ernie and, to a lesser degree Jason. Speaking of Jason...

...I guess this probably goes back to my own personal views of some of the aspects of MMPR that I don't feel qualify as some of the things that need to see a great amount of change. This also goes back to the dialogue thing. I get that Jason is supposed to be a far more subdued, introverted character in your story, but stuff like the dialogue between Jason and his Dad really just acame off as awkward to me. It was rather clever, yes, but it just sounded completely bizarre, and more fitting of a conversation one might imagine between Billy and his father, or Trini and her parents. But "seeing" jock Jason ad his big ol' moose of a father fire off quotes from Voltaire and George Orwell, and freaking Socrates or something was just very odd. It was very jarring and difficult to imagine Jason arguing with his father while employing the use of terms such as "haughty" and "sycophants". But maybe a more verbose yet introverted and intellectual demeanor is what you are envisioning for your own version of the original Red Ranger. He's also little pompous, but Jason from the show had a tendancy to be when he would hold the other Ranger's back so he could fight a monster alone.

Aside from those things, it's a pretty good start to re-telling the story of MMPR. We've got Billy, Jason, Zack and Trini in play already, with just a hint of Kimberly thrown in, and I'm interested to see you incprorate her into the cast at least to the same level of involvement as the other Ranger's. Until Chapter 4...

[BryanI305]

I thank you immensely for your comment because the truth is, as a writer, this is exactly the kind of critiquing I need. Though I treat my stories with the varying degrees of deference as they deserve, MMPR Season 1 has a very special place in my heart, so I tried to put a lot of thought in what I wanted.

The most drastic changes I made to character are going to be with Jason and Zack. Kimberly, Billy and Trini basically remain the same; Zack stays social but I've given him a very indifferent, self-involved personality and to Jason I've crafted, as you've noticed, a more introverted version of what you see in the show. With Jason's parentage, however, I decided that the jock father was not what I wanted and didn't have the right tone for what I was trying to accomplish. Jason's my centerpiece, the thing that holds this all together, but I wanted him to have more problems than just being somewhat antisocial. That's why I decided to make him the son of a very wealthy and well-educated man and his kind, beautiful (but now-deceased) wife, and the protege of his grandfather, a martial arts guru. I admit that Lionel Luthor (from Smallville) was my prototype for Mr. Scott and that the repertoire between Scott and Jason was based on the Luthors' relationship. I'm shameless like that. As for Jason's sudden use of "shit," I also felt that it was "out of character," but Jason himself isn't too sure what his personality is yet (something he'll slowly discover over the course of the story). He was simply trying to make himself more impressive, even though it was just Billy.

As for Ernie, I simply imagined him to be a little more grumpy than his show version, despite his affection for the kids. Kimberly will be fleshed out in the next chapter and, spoiler warning, I am retaining the whole divorce thing from the show, because I simply think it fits the character. Again, thanks for the comments; they really help me understand what the audience expects and likes.

[TSoldier]

I thank you immensely for your comment because the truth is, as a writer, this is exactly the kind of critiquing I need. Though I treat my stories with the varying degrees of deference as they deserve, MMPR Season 1 has a very special place in my heart, so I tried to put a lot of thought in what I wanted.

The most drastic changes I made to character are going to be with Jason and Zack. Kimberly, Billy and Trini basically remain the same; Zack stays social but I've given him a very indifferent, self-involved personality and to Jason I've crafted, as you've noticed, a more introverted version of what you see in the show. With Jason's parentage, however, I decided that the jock father was not what I wanted and didn't have the right tone for what I was trying to accomplish. Jason's my centerpiece, the thing that holds this all together, but I wanted him to have more problems than just being somewhat antisocial. That's why I decided to make him the son of a very wealthy and well-educated man and his kind, beautiful (but now-deceased) wife, and the protege of his grandfather, a martial arts guru. I admit that Lionel Luthor (from Smallville) was my prototype for Mr. Scott and that the repertoire between Scott and Jason was based on the Luthors' relationship. I'm shameless like that. As for Jason's sudden use of "shit," I also felt that it was "out of character," but Jason himself isn't too sure what his personality is yet (something he'll slowly discover over the course of the story). He was simply trying to make himself more impressive, even though it was just Billy.

As for Ernie, I simply imagined him to be a little more grumpy than his show version, despite his affection for the kids. Kimberly will be fleshed out in the next chapter and, spoiler warning, I am retaining the whole divorce thing from the show, because I simply think it fits the character. Again, thanks for the comments; they really help me understand what the audience expects and likes.
You know, your response to my comments has helped me to understand better some of the changes you made in your story from the original series. I think you using Jason as the centerpiece for the story is awesome, and is really the way that it should be, considering he is the leader and therefore, at least to some extent, the unifying force between a group of kids who are at this point, still strangers to eachother (some less so than others, i.e. Jason and Billy). Also, I think that some of the changes you made to people like Jason and Zack, make more sense to me now. What you've given them here is room to grow. Even Ernie has that potential, although I don't imagine too much of a change coming from him, as you seem to depict him as some kind of transplant from New York who has that kind of hardened attitude, despite whatever amount of affecion he may hold for his customers.

I don't watch Smallville, so I'm not really certain about the influences from the Luthor's but I do see how the depictions for character's like Jason's father gives way for some more interesting conflicts. And I'm totally feeling you on the whole Jason not being sure who he is yet thing. I can totally read that from his character looking back on it now because he's been so far and long removed from any real kind of social setting that he isn't anymore aware than we are of how he can exist, and even grow inside that kind of environment, and maybe even take a leading role in that kind of setting, as far as becoming popular or even hated or whatever. So, yeah, I can better see the staging you've got set for the commencement of a good series of changes, discoveries, growth, conflict and connections to be had between these characters. On top of that, we still have yet to see how those kind of things will present themselves once we get the villains, and even Alpha and Zordon, placed into the story. Now I'm anticipating seeing Chapter 4 even more now. I'm curious as to how the action will play out in your story as well. Guess we'll have to wait and see.

Later.

[BryanI305]

CHAPTER IV

The air was heating up, especially here in sunny California. Kimberly could feel the spring withering under the glowering stare of summer, beginning to shy away as a miserable dog to its master. In a long-gone time, had the same thoughts crossed her mind she would have felt pity for the spring, for she loved it dearly. But these days Kimberly found it hard to feel anything at all. No, not even for those poor astronauts stranded or whatever on the moon.

As she walked out of the Youth Center, she saw that the geeky boy in the blue overalls (He likes to wear blue, she thought) was sitting on a bench and looking somewhat forlornly out into the street.

Probably doing what she was about to do. Waiting for someone to care enough to come and pick him up.

She sat down on one of the provided benches. She was not tempted to pull out her phone as she didn’t feel like talking to anyone. Neither was she tempted to take her MP3 player out of her purse because there wasn’t a song written yet that could possibly make her feel any better. It had recently become a pastime of hers to just stare blankly into space and hope that nobody paid any attention to her.

The irony wasn’t lost on her. At home, she craved it so dearly that it hurt. But outside those walls, she could find no solace in others. The world could not just leave her well enough alone.

She smelled him before she saw him. It was that powerful, telling scent that caused her to close her eyes in frustration. He’d tried to talk to her so many times in the last week that she’d officially run out of excuses why she couldn’t stick around to chat.

“Hey, Kim!”

Here in the open space, there was nowhere to run. With all those hiding places, nowhere to hide.

“Hi, Pete,” Kim said, trying to inject enthusiasm she didn’t feel into her voice. She succeeded better at that than keeping the annoyance out of her voice. But Pete wasn’t smart enough to notice anyway.

“So what’s up?” he said, apparently not sensing her desire to be alone. Wasn’t it written all over her face? “I mean, you don’t have to run to a class or catch a ride or anything, right?” His chuckle was like nails on a chalkboard to Kimberly, though all her ‘friends’ thought he was the hottest thing since ever. “If I didn’t know any better,” he continued, smoothly sliding in next to her, “I’d say you were ignoring me.”

She wanted to say Good thing you don’t know any better, but she bit her tongue. Instead she just forced a laugh. It was hard.

“So what’ve you been up to lately?” he asked.

She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated. For a solitary moment, she had actually considered telling Pete—arguably the school’s most popular freshman and egoist extraordinaire—everything that she was keeping locked away, even from the people she had once considered friends.

But Kimberly was smarter than most people gave her credit for. Pete was not the person to unload on. Not now, not ever.

So she simply put on a smile and said, “Nothing much. How about you?”

Here Pete leaned back on his hands. “Now there’s a question,” he said. “I haven’t been doing too well.”

“Oh, no, you feeling sick?” she asked, watching that Billy kid get into a beaten-down sedan.

“A little,” he replied slyly.

“Maybe you should see a doctor,” Kimberly said absently.

“I don’t think the doctor can help me out with this one, Kim. It requires a more…personal touch.”

Kim looked at him sideways. “What are you talking about?”

The look on Pete’s face suggested embarrassment but no rose color stained his cheeks. “Nothing. Just silly stuff.”

“Okay.” Kimberly knew the conversation wasn’t over by a long shot and she had a pretty good guess where it was going. But she left the hint of finality in her voice anyway, hoping to dissuade Pete.

But Pete didn’t catch the hint and thus was not dissuaded in the least. “It’s just that, you know, even though I’m on the junior varsity team and I’ve got all these friends and people looking up to me and stuff, I get lonely sometimes, you know?”

Kimberly nodded, keeping as disinterested a face as possible.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you were—are—the most beautiful girl in school but you don’t have a boyfriend. Why is that?”

“Never had one,” Kim said quickly. “Never wanted one before.”

“And now?”

“What are you getting at, Pete?” Kimberly said, finally letting her annoyance soak her words.

“Hey, relax, man,” Pete said, “no need to get fiery. Though I do like that about you. I was just hoping I could take you out for a pizza or something, maybe hang out here at the Juice Bar just the two of us.”

Kim’s relief when Jason walked up might have been palpable to someone with a higher IQ but Pete chose only to vainly hide his irritation. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” Jason said. “Kimberly, right?”

“Yeah,” Kim said eagerly. “Call me Kim.”

Jason smiled. “Okay, Kim. Anyway, I was wondering if you’ve seen Billy. I wanted to talk to him.”

“You just missed him,” Kim said. “Why, what’s up?”

Both Pete and Jason gave her a weird look. Kimberly was aware that it wasn’t her business and that they knew it. She also knew that she’d just met Jason and any interaction with Billy had been limited to laughing at him when he said something ridiculous during class.

“Well,” Jason said, “he seemed kind of bummed by the whole space shuttle thing. I guess I just wanted to see if I could cheer him up or something.”

Kimberly wasn’t sure what to think of Jason. She’d noticed him around school, of course (what girl at AGHS hadn’t), but he had always kept to himself. Today was the first time she could remember him speaking to anyone period. What was odder than that was the fact that he was hanging out with Billy Cranston.

“Yeah, it’s sad,” Kimberly said. “I hope everyone makes it.”

“ Yeah. Thanks, anyway, Kim,” Jason said. “I have class with you, don’t I?”

“History, first period,” Kim replied.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jason said. “And you’ll be coming to my class on Monday, right?”

“I’d like to see someone stop me,” she said. She realized that she was smiling without actually forcing it.

Jason waved goodbye and started walking towards the park. Kimberly’s heart sunk in tandem with Jason’s disappearance. No escape now, she supposed.

Pete, visibly happy to see Jason gone, turned back to her. “Well?”

Feigning forgetfulness, Kim replied, “What were we talking about again? Something about pizza, I think. That reminds me, I didn’t eat lunch. I really need to get something in my stomach when I get home, I’m starving.”

“Why don’t we go out for that pizza now?” Pete asked, obviously seeing it as an opportunity. “I can drop you off at home afterwards.”

“I don’t think so,” Kim said. “Mom should be here in a bit.” Or was it Dad who was supposed to come and get her? She wasn’t so sure of anything anymore.

“Well, call her and tell her you’re going out for a bite with a friend.”

“I’m not in the mood. I got a pretty bad headache; I rather eat at home. Thanks, though,” she said as an afterthought.

Pete was not deterred. “So when can I take you out?”

“Look, Pete, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Why not?” he asked, though he oddly didn’t look upset.

Kimberly again was tempted to tell him all the reasons why, beginning with her problems at home, but her willpower was strong.

Pete must have taken her hesitation as a sign of embarrassment. “Hey…is it because Shelley likes me? I know you guys have been friends for a long time and it might make her angry for a little while…but if she’s really a true friend, then she’ll eventually forgive you. If she doesn’t then she didn’t deserve to be your friend.”

Carpe diem, Kimberly thought. “All the same, I think it’d be better—for Shelley’s sake—that we didn’t date. Besides, she’s cute, why don’t you two get together already?”

Pete was about to answer, noticeably confused by being shot down, when a luxury two-seater Benz pulled in to the school drive. It was Dad after all.

“There’s my ride,” Kimberly said cheerfully. “We’ll talk later.”

She didn’t wait for his reply, all but jumping through the window of the car.

“Hi, Daddy,” she said, pulling the car door closed. But Daddy paid her no attention, instead shouting angrily into the cellphone he held with a death grip.

“Look, Ray, I don’t have time to be running around in circles here. Scott has us by the balls in this deal. By the balls. If he decides to squeeze, we’re not going to be able to get up off our knees…” A pause, long enough for Kim’s father to switch the phone to the opposite ear and put the car back into gear. Kim didn’t bother returning Pete’s wave, pretending not to see him.

“No,” her father said suddenly. “No, you leave my home life out of this. It’s not affecting my performance in the least…no, it’s not, Ray! Scott’s company is a lot larger and he’s a lot more powerful than we’ve ever been. The fact of the matter is that one screw-up on our part and we might as well forward our checks to him.”

Mr. Hart was the Head Administrator for GoldTech, a company that helped develop software for larger corporations. For years they had been under subtle siege by Alex Scott, whose tech division was apparently lacking. This much, at least, Kim had gathered from phone conversations and dinner talk she’d been listening to since she was in elementary school. She also knew that the reason Scott couldn’t get the best in the field was because GoldTech offered them better salaries and better conditions of employment, mostly because the Scott Company was mainly in the business of government-contracted technologies and thusly couldn’t afford to compete with GoldTech’s focused employee paycheck.

And so Alex Scott instead chose a different path: hostile takeover. He’d been at it for years but it was worse than ever now. Scott’s power and influence continued to grow and he had enough resources to make GoldTech’s merger into Scott Co. look like an inevitability. Mr. Hart was their chief diplomatic hope but he seemed to be losing the battle.

Kim hadn’t before heard of any deal between the two. GoldTech, it seemed, was getting weaker from the constant bombardment.

“I won’t let that happen,” her father responded to the man named Ray, “not while I still got air to breathe. We lose this company, we lose everything. I doubt Scott’s going to be merciful enough to keep us on after all we’ve done to keep him out. We’ll be lucky not to get blacklisted by him.”

That doesn’t sound good.

“We’ll talk about this in the board meeting tomorrow. Phil needs to know what’s going on in the negotiations and he isn’t going to want to hear them over the phone.” With that, Mr. Hart stabbed the end-call button on the phone and threw it into the cup holder. “Damn!”

“I guess negotiations aren’t going good,” Kim said weakly.

“They’re not going well, Kimberly, they’re not going well. And no, they’re not. I just had to make a deal with Scott’s man to buy us some time but that’s it. If the deal doesn’t work in our favor…” He trailed off, angrily staring out at the road.

The silence in the car was stifling. Kimberly could feel herself hot in the face and the air coming from the vents wasn’t helping in the least. She needed to break it. She needed to talk to him about…about what was going on in their personal lives. Kim hadn’t breeched the subject with either her mother or her father and she couldn’t keep making excuses.

“Um, Dad?”

“Yeah, Kim?” her father replied in exasperation. Kim knew it was residual frustration from the deal but Kim’s heart screamed out that it was her fault.

“What’s going to happen?”

“I just told you. We might lose everything—the house, the money, the—”

“I’m talking about you and Mom!”

Mr. Hart fell silent again, brooding. “This isn’t a good time to talk about it.”

“Then when is a good time, Dad? The end of the next century?”

“Don’t talk to me like that, do you understand?” He paused. “We should have this conversation with your mother anyway.”

“How?” Kim cried incredulously. “You two can’t bear to even look at each other. How can we have this conversation when you don’t even come home any more? You go straight to Grandma’s house and I don’t see you for two, three days sometimes! When’s this going to end? What are you going to do?”

“There’s nothing much that I can do, Kimberly! This has as much to do with me as with your mother! You want answers? Talk to her, not to me. According to her, I don’t know anything about this family anyway.”

“And why do you think she would say something like that?” Kimberly retorted. “Maybe it’s because you spend more time at work than at home. Maybe it’s because you see your boss more than you see me. Maybe, just maybe, you’ve forgotten how to spend time with us.”

“That’s right, it’s all my fault,” Mr. Hart scoffed. “I don’t do anything for the family. Your mother hasn’t had to work a day in her life since I got this position. For seven years, it’s been like this. All the food that you eat, all the clothes that you buy, every single penny you shell out for everything you’ve ever wanted, came from every single minute I put into my job. So don’t—don’t give me any righteous indignation. All I’ve done, all this time, I’ve done it for her. For you. For us. Don’t single me out. If you think I’m guilty of anything, then take a closer look at your mother: she has her share of sin, including laziness.”

“She cooks and she cleans and she loves you,” Kim said but much more subdued than before.

“She does it so that she avoids having an actual job. I’ve told her time and again that I’d hire a maid if she were to get a job, even something as silly as working a cash register somewhere. I do it for her. But no. She’d rather remain home so that when the chores are done she can go out shopping or sit on the couch and watch Oprah. I’m not doing this anymore.”

Kimberly choked on her tears but had to wipe them away from her eyes before they could fall. In a small voice that she didn’t even recognize, she said, “I don’t want you to divorce her.”

Her father was silent. She could see in the look of his face that he was lost. She couldn’t understand why. She couldn’t understand why the man she had always looked up to, her own personal Superman, couldn’t figure his way out of this problem. It seemed so simple to her. Why couldn’t he fight harder for Kim and her mom? Why couldn’t he suck it up, like he had sucked everything else up, and live the life that she dreamed? The good life?

Kimberly couldn’t see passed her own pain. If she had, she’d have known that for Mr. Hart everything seemed to be out of his control. No fight in his life seemed to be winnable. Mr. Hart was facing things beyond his power. He was facing the inevitable.

Soon, the daughter will feel the same feelings. She too will be a victim of fate.

[geno]

Thats a interesting idea have Jason's father's company try and it would seem might actually do so take over the company Kim's father works for and Kim it would appear has a bit of a crush on Jason.

Good story and I look forward to more

[project314]

Good gosh, what is it with CW shows and parental issues? So I read Chapter 1, and I found Jason reminiscent particularly of two characters. First off, Lex Luthor on Smallville, who wants to step out of his father's dark shadow but ultimately fails. Second, and this is the one I'm going to stick with, Nathan Scott (maybe with a touch of Lucas), on One Tree Hill, who wants to step out of his father's dark shadow and ultimately succeeds. And I actually used Lionel's voice while I was reading Jason's father.

The language and descriptions you use made for really rich visuals, particularly in the opening where Jason is training. I picture the cast credits appearing on screen during that, since they don't normally have the opening credits in pilot episodes. There was a lot of details that were given to enhance every action and moment and that made reading this very enjoyable, even little things during dialogues. (Makes me regret I went into science in college, considering all the good that did me... : ) )

The dialogue, I found it really flowed and established the relationships. The Lex/Lionel vibe or Nathan/Dan vibe you were going for with Jason and his father really worked for me. I really enjoyed the Jason/Billy segment quite a bit as well, especially as it set up Jason to give martial arts classes at the Youth Center.

My take on your take on Jason, since TSoldier wrote about that. Jason was always a leader, he was always gifted in martial arts, always relatively quiet, even more so than encyclopedia Billy. A jock? Not really. I think it was in the Grumble Bee episode where Ms Appleby had said the six top students would be tutoring Bulk and Skull if they failed a particular test and Jason was one of those six. It seems to me that Jason was one of the characters who interacted the least with anyone outside of the core group. So to have him as an introspective loner doesn't hit me as that much of a deviation from the character. It's actually refreshing to have someone show us a bit more of Jason than we're used to.

As for Billy, I want to say Buffy the Vampire Slayer's Willow in Welcome to the Hellmouth. Very earnest, talkative, helpful, slightly awkward but a really good heart. I look forward to reading more about him.

The only negative thing I can say is that I hated not having time to read more than Chapter 1 so far... Soon, unless I start looking up books on creative writing and reading that takes away all my time. =P

Morphinomenal reboot, very CWish.

[BryanI305]

CHAPTER V

From the diary of Regis Layne, adventurer—

March 16, 2008

For the first time since I left college, I’m writing in this diary. It really is like meeting up again with an old, reliable friend. Sadly, the circumstances are not for the best. I am chronicling this because I myself don’t believe what I’m seeing. I’m chronicling my time with this woman because it could help me or someone else in the future. If someone is reading this, then it means something happened to me. Whatever you read is true. I didn’t make any of it up. It may seem out of this world or unbelievable but I know what I saw. I know what I experienced.

It has been only one week since I first met her. She had told me to call her Rita but I wouldn’t be surprised if her real name was something very different, especially since she had supplied me no surname. She simply walked into my travel agency and quietly requested I become her tour guide for an undefined amount of time. To go to four spots on the map.

Regis Layne, however, is not a privateer. In my youth, my familial wealth had given my with the ability to go where I wanted, when I wanted. Since my early teens, I’d been to every country on the planet and dared to accept many of the challenges presented by each. But when I reached middle age and realized I could no longer rely on his family’s bank account to fund my adventuring, I went into the only business I knew anything about.

I had never been a guide before. I had invited a lot of friends and acquaintances on expeditions and acted as lead but this was different. Being paid to be a guide, especially when it was for an unspecified span of time and especially when I didn’t actually know the final destination, is something new to me. I feel challenged.

And scared. I’m not afraid to admit it either. I’ve been in situations where there was seemingly no way out and I’d pulled through with merely my wit and brute strength as aids. To me, fear, and allowing one self to feel it, is an important and necessary part of life. Ignoring it could be fatal.

But this is a different kind of fear. I know nothing about this woman. She appears to be of Asian descent but despite my vast experience on the continent (my favorite) I can not pinpoint her heritage. I couldn’t pull some strings and do a background check either because she didn’t give me a real or even full name. This was despite being able to send a vast amount of money into one of my Swiss accounts, almost immediately after I asked how much she was willing to pay for my time. It was almost like magic.

Rita was vaguely beautiful but she hid her face in the shadows of her dark cloth robes. For all I knew she might have had no body of which to speak. She was silent much of the time, seemingly deep in thought. If she spoke to me it was always polite despite an undercurrent of disdain that was not hard for me to catch. It was an air of superiority that I knew to be the mark of the rich and arrogant, and yet her unassuming clothing told a completely different story.

She carried no bags, had no cell phone to call loved ones and did not speak with any accent whatsoever. Her English was perfect. Her voice was melodiously singsong-ish, except, oddly enough, when she muttered under her breath, which she seemed to do with increasing frequency. Her voice became harsh and gravelly and she used a language I didn’t understand. This only exacerbates my uneasiness as I’m familiar with many languages and have learned to either identify or speak most Asian languages and dialects. This didn’t sound like anything I’d ever heard before.

She spoke to me as I made my way over a particularly difficult clump of rock formation. We were on the slope of a curiously unnamed mountain, in the wilds of a northern Japanese forest. She seemed to glide so very gracefully over even the toughest terrain, places that I didn’t even traverse without some effort.

“We are close,” she said. She said it like a statement and not a question.

“With all due respect, Ms. Rita,” I said, stopping. “If you knew where you were going, why’d you spend so much to hire me out here?”

She spoke as if awaking from sleep. “That is none of your concern, Mr. Layne.”

Who was this woman?

“I’m not big on mysteries, ma’am,” I muttered.

“Consider it the biggest challenge of your life,” she replied.

I frowned but did not stop or demand to be let go. Rita appeared to be searching for something—or somethings, as this was only the first stop on our journey around the world—but she had not been open enough to let me in on what exactly.

All my instincts told me to end our business together but as much as I hated mysteries I couldn’t leave this one unanswered. There was something very unsettling about this woman and I want to know what it is. I had to discover her secret.

About an hour after she last spoke to me, she slowed and started looking lazily around. She spun slowly in a complete circle. I watched, quiet, with a growing sense of foreboding. I wanted to say her name, if only to break her from her pseudo-trance, but I found my voice caught in my throat. Fear.

After a few moments more, she stopped her turning and headed off in a perpendicular direction from our original path.

My voice returned. “Ms. Rita, you’re going in the wrong direction!”

She did not turn to face me but she at least dignified me with a response. “Mr. Layne, if you please, your task is, for the moment, completed. Please stay quiet.”

I gritted my teeth against a response I might have regretted.

I followed her, both of us silent. It was unnerving, moreso with each passing moment. Then she began chanting, in that rough, foreign language, loudly and into the sky. She stopped in the middle of a clearing; I had stayed far enough behind her to stop at the treeline. She didn’t seem to notice.

Her voice seemed to grow larger and larger until it seemed like the entire world vibrated with her speech. From out of nowhere, I heard a celestial rumble and saw the forming of darkened clouds begin rolling in. The clouds seemed to come not from one direction, but from all of them.

And then the earth did begin to vibrate. The ground trembled and I lost my footing, my back slamming into a rock, sending a shot of pain down through my body. Through the haze of agony and the surrounding trees, I could see Rita, standing in the direct center of the clearing, her head arched to face the sky. The sun had completely disappeared and had left no traces of its existence, replaced by the black clouds to which Rita shouted.

The smaller rocks began jumping and my heart kept time with their incessant pounding. Grabbing hold of a whipping branch, I pulled myself to my feet again, ignoring my throbbing spine long enough to lean against a tree.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing happen in that clearing. Lightning was striking the ground like fingers groping the around for some buried treasure. She stood in the middle of it, crying out to the sky, obviously unafraid of the insanity surrounding her.

And then, quite suddenly, a piece of earth exploded in a plume of dirt and grass and mud. The geyser peaked at an altitude of at least two hundred feet and at its peak the lightning struck it, sending forking blue lights around the entirety of the falling explosion. By the time the dirt began to settle, the clouds had dissipated and the lightning with it.

I choked on the cloud of debris but I managed to wave enough of it to get a decent view of the clearing. Despite the danger of getting something in them, my eyes widened with shock and awe as the murk swirled to reveal Rita, now wielding a strange staff or scepter of some kind. The design was unlike anything I’ve ever seen. There wasn’t a culture on this planet that used such patterns and designs; it reminded me of nothing. I could not connect it with even the most obscure cultures to which I had born witness.

She was looking at it with an open expression of deranged glee, in contrast with her usually grim features. For a few moments, she simply stared at it as the dust finally cleared completely and I was able to see the staff better.

It was longer than she was tall, it’s bottom tip sharpened to a seemingly piercing point. The apex, however, was where things got odd. It had a series of protrusions that had no discernible pattern but which ended, at the top, with a circular shape, with the middle open save for a round red sphere, which was off-center.

She finally looked at me, as if for the first time, and beckoned me.

My heart skipped a beat but I furrowed my brow and pushed off the tree anyway. I tried to bury the pain of it but I knew I was unsuccessful for she instantly noticed it.

“Come, Mr. Layne,” she said entrancingly, “don’t be afraid of Rita, for she is whole once more. Though you do not realize it, you have helped me a great deal and I have always been loyal to my aides and assistants. Allow me to help you now as you have helped me.”

I did not understand what she meant but I limped right up to her, swallowing fear and apprehension as I did.

“Turn around,” she said sweetly.

I did as I was bid and, closing my eyes in anticipation, I faced the treeline. I believed that it was over. She was going to kill me for witnessing whatever it was that I had seen. I had accepted it as I had accepted my death so many times before in my life. This was no different.

But just like every other time in my life, death was disappointed. Instead of intense pain followed by nothingness, I realized that I had gone straight to feeling nothing. I felt no pain. I opened my eyes to find I had not moved an inch but that the ache in my back was gone.

“What did you do to me?” I cried, turning and backing away simultaneously.

Her face grew concerned. “Did I not heal you? Did I not take away your pain for all your loyalty and bravery in the face of things that you do not understand? Have I upset you?”

I didn’t know how to respond. She had helped me, after all. But what did I just see? Was it magic? This was the real world, not some fantasy novel. This kind of thing didn’t exist. Didn’t it? She had healed me somehow, without medicine, without even touching my body. What did you call that?

“Like you said,” I replied nervously, “I don’t understand anything that’s happened. I don’t know what to think.”

“I don’t ask that you think, Mr. Layne,” she said calmly, “I ask that you only do as I tell you. I have already rewarded your service. In the future, I shall reward your loyalty. That is all you need to know.”

I mumbled a thank-you, but that’s all I could get out. I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into but I’m smart enough to know that it probably won’t end well. So I’m sitting here with my pencil scribbling furiously at my fading diary, wondering what will become of this allegiance. The plane is full of people for which Rita shows the same disdain. I can’t help but sense that she knows I’m writing this and what I’m writing it for. But she does not tell me to stop. It’s as if she doesn’t think it is a threat though that is indeed what this can be: a threat to her secret.

What her secret is I still don’t know. But I have to find out. She is not a good person. She’s evil. Very evil.


March 23, 2008

I finally had the time to write again but it has been a day or two since I saw what I am about to write about. Again I stress that nothing I write about is made up. It’s all true. I’m more terrified than before. Rita—Bandora—doesn’t seem to notice. I don’t know how. I feel that it shows in my every breath, in my very being.

I’m writing now from yet another plane, bound for the Bahamas. It will certainly be a welcome change from the Alps.

Rita hadn’t spoken to me much since our talk in the Japanese woods. I didn’t know whether that was a good thing or bad thing. Maybe it didn’t mean anything for she spoke to no one.

As I mentioned before, she carried nothing before and did not seem to have any identification. The flight attendants and airport staff did not even appear to realize she was there. Rita simply walked on board as if she owned the plane. Even with the staff, an easy five-foot affair, they said nothing and checked nothing.

Speaking of the staff, it seems to shrink when convenient. Perhaps it is just my perception but with all the strange things that have happened I doubt it.

I know it must seem like I’m stalling and I honestly am. I don’t know how to put into words what I have seen without sounding like a crazy person. And maybe I am. Maybe my mind’s been scrambled like eggs on a Sunday morning but I don’t know. I’m not sure of much anymore. The only thing I know is the fear…and the awe.

I will not say much of our journey through the mountains except to say that it was significantly easier than I thought it was going to be, especially since I had already scaled one of the local mounts a few years ago. But our destination was only partway up the mountain. I didn’t know that when we left. She didn’t tell me anything.

I’ve scratched out and erased the following so many times that what I’m writing now is barely legible. I go over the events in my head. I go over the already written. It sounds and feels so radical that I can’t even begin to describe what I think about my state of mind at the moment.

Rita sits next to me. She seems bigger than before. She seems more whole.

I might as well come out with it already. When we finally got to the intended spot, Rita began to chant once more but this time it was softer. Her voice was again harsh but it was not as loud and there were no special effects going on in the sky.

Any relief I might have been feeling was soon dashed to splinters against the hardened mountainside, which inexplicably exploded outward not ten meters from where we stood on a wide ledge. Rita was not disturbed but I was on the ground, petrified. I might have been whimpering but I can’t recall.

I don’t know how to describe the result of the explosion. There were two of them. They stood mostly in the shadow of the mountain and I couldn’t make them out at first. When I did, as they approached Rita, my mind is so jumbled that I may be exaggerating or perhaps I completely off my rocker. I will describe them as I remember it.

The first was short, even shorter than Rita. From what I could tell, he was mostly a white bipedal creature, with long, pointy ears and a goat-like face. He wore what looked like an apron and funny-looking shoes. He had an almost soothing mumble but it held an inkling of menace in it, not unlike Rita’s.

The second was—well, he was awesome in his fierceness. His body was that of a golden idol, with enormous black wings kept folded behind his back, save when he initially burst from the mountain, at which point he threw them open like some terrible bird of prey. His face, however, was very primate-like, much like a gorilla’s but to pin it down like that would be folly. I had never seen anything like him or his companion.

I’m not sure where the second got his sword for it seemed to materialize in his hand in an instant. This occurred moments after the trio exchanged words in that language that Rita had spoken previously.

I remember being sprawled upon the snowy ground, the wetness seeping through the thickness of my cold-weather gear, and being more terrified than I have ever been when the gold monkey-man gestured to me with his bronze blade. Rita turned, her face distorted by triumph, and she waved the staff towards me.

Then she said, “He is of no concern, my loyal Grifforzor,” and I realized I could understand them. I cannot say for certain that they were speaking a language I knew, only that I could now comprehend what they were saying.

“I do not trust him,” the golden Grifforzor rasped. His voice was more menacing than he appeared.

“You do not trust anyone,” the little one rebuked. “But he does have a point, mistress Bandora. The humans are not to be trusted.”

“Yes, they are to be destroyed!”

“There’s no use in frightening him needlessly,” Rita said with sickly gentility. “If he remains loyal to me than he will not share the fate of the rest of his race. You will remain loyal to me, will you not, Mr. Layne?”

I suppose I nodded for she appeared satisfied. Then she turned her attention back to her servants. “Prepare the fortress for battle. I sense him here on Earth but I cannot tell for certain where he is or whether he is aware of my return. Only with the completion of my gifts can I ascertain it for sure.”

“He scattered your powers to the ends of this forsaken planet,” the goat-man said thoughtfully, “but I suppose you sense their locations.”

“In a general way, my dear Finster,” Rita replied. “I cannot reach them using my abilities, however, and so I must take the difficult path.”

“And the human?” Grifforzor asked.

“Only the presence of a human can mask me from his blasphemous power,” she replied.

“I will begin the putty-making process immediately, Your Excellency,” said the one named Finster. “But what if they show up?”

“No need for your useless artworks, Finster,” Grifforzor growled. “If he chooses his warriors, they shall answer to me.”

Rita nodded. “I have already restored your sword, Goldar Grifforzor. And your powers are what they once were. Go forth and do my bidding!”

“Yes, Your Highness Bandora,” they replied in unison, bowing. With a brief gust of wind, they were gone.

The walk back to civilization was a tensely hushed one. I asked only one question of her, the only one I permitted myself. “Is your name Rita…or Bandora?”

For a moment she said nothing and I feared that I had upset her somehow. Finally, she pronounced, “Rita was the name given to me by those who did not know my true name. They called me Rita Repulsa. But my name is Bandora and it shall be forever more. I will let my enemies call me Rita, for it is name that is feared across the span of time and space. Let them tremble before it as they once did. Let them once again despair at its mention. I have returned.”


March 26, 2008

As I write this, we are on what was supposed to be our final flight before our business concluded together. I am now in doubt whether Rita will ever allow me to return to my normal life. After what I’ve been through, I’m not sure I could ever have one again anyway.

Our excursion into the Bahamas was significantly less eventful than Japan or the Alps. In fact, had it been the first stop, I might not have noticed much amiss. We chartered a private fishing vessel and explained that we had a particular location we wanted to visit. The captain, accustomed to being the one who chose the fishing spot, at first declined before realizing it wasn’t as far away as his normal place.

About half-an-hour into the ride, Rita told the captain to stop the boat. As the crew bustled about, preparing rods and bait, Rita leaned over the side of the boat. I heard her chanting. Then she straightened and in her hands was a big, thick book. It did not seem wet in the least. She was looking at it with the same victorious smirk that she had when she recovered her staff and released her servants (did all of that really happen?).

She tucked it under one arm and then turned to the captain, regretfully informing him that she was feeling very motion sick and that she would prefer that they return to the mainland. The captain was initially very shocked and not a little angry but was soon calmed by the prospect of extra money for the deed.

The three locations of Rita’s journey have been relatively remote thus far. It therefore puzzles me why the last goal is on the outskirts of a major California city and why she left it, unarguably the simplest one, for the final stretch.

None of this makes sense. Who is this “he” that opposed them and conquered them? What about the warriors that monkey-boy mentioned?

This sounds ridiculous. Perhaps I’m imagining this. Or maybe it’s just a very vivid nightmare. I hope that that’s what this is and nothing more. Little by little, day by day, I feel myself slipping. I think about these things that have been born before me and less and less I see them as wild imaginings and more like a grave threat.

Oh, God, what have I done?

[geno]

Well Regis Layne you have just helped the most dangerous foe the Earth has seen in a extremely long time. I like the idea of parts of her full power scattered across the globe, and the he they keep talking about I would wager would be Zordon

Look forward to more

[DragonDagger529]

This story is more and more entriguing all the time.

[BryanI305]

CHAPTER VI

Jason could only admit that his classes were a success. Financially, things couldn’t have been better for Ernie. At ten dollars a person per day, Ernie was generating enough income to purchase the newer, more powerful workout equipment for which he was gunning as well as covering some small rent debts that he had procured over the years that the community refused to pay.

More personally, Jason had become a staple amongst the higher echelon of the high school hierarchy, though this was somewhat against his will. He still preferred to spend his days studying with Billy rather than catching a movie with some promiscuous cheerleader or drinking beer in a dark parking lot on Saturday night. His good looks, toned muscles and good manners worked against him in this matter, as he was constantly invited to parties and other such popularity contests.

But he had to confess that since beginning the martial arts class he hadn’t progressed too far with his bid to be more social; at least, not inwardly. Billy continually told him that he had come a long way but Jason knew that Billy and his students was pretty much his limit. He had made the effort, however, to talk to others in his classes: this consisted mostly of asking for a pencil (though he already had it) or asking someone for the homework (though he already knew what it was) and getting very polite, sometimes flirty, responses.

Jason thought it was all a façade, a front for ulterior motives.

Only four people had ever had Jason’s whole-hearted trust and two of them were dead now. The other two, surprisingly, were people he had only just met. Billy’s naïve intelligence and eager-beaver attitude had won him over in only the first few minutes of their first encounter, and Ernie’s brusqueness told Jason that he wore his intentions on his sleeve for everybody to see. Ernie wasn’t a businessman any more than he was a humanitarian and Jason knew he could be trusted.

There were two others who were slowly gaining his trust though the time he spent with them was very limited. The first was Kimberly, one of his best pupils. He had been impressed with the fluidity of her movements and speed of her martial arts education as he had pegged her for the ditzy type, more interested in shopping than learning. As it turned out, she confided in him that she had taken tae kwon do classes as a child to help with her gymnastics and that she really hadn’t forgotten the old moves. “You never really do,” Jason had told her. He recognized an intensity in her that he could not identify and could only pity, for some reason.

The second was the immensely graceful Trini Kwan, whom he had noticed had come to the Juice Bar every single day since he had begun his classes. She had followed through with her promise to help spread the word about Jason’s classes and had proved invaluable to him as an unofficial assistant. She was not, however, enrolled in the class as she already knew many of the basic forms that Jason was teaching. As he understood it, it was a tradition in Trini’s family to not only learn the art of combat but to comprehend each and every movement’s purpose. He appreciated her helpfulness but he didn’t understand why she was so keen to help him seemingly without thought of reward. For this, he didn’t let her any closer than being of assistance to his students before and after classes.

One thing Jason hadn’t counted on, however, was who his star pupil turned out to be. Jason had expected Billy to put his brute intellect to perfecting every move but he was awkward in body and unable to cope with the grace and precision that the moves required. His memorization of what Jason said was faultless but he couldn’t apply his knowledge to his actions, which was frustrating for him. But Jason was patient and worked overtime for his new friend and Billy was slowly but steadily gaining some footholds, though they were precious few.

The one who blew Jason out of the water was Zack Taylor, the antagonistic social butterfly who had confronted him the day Jason announced his intentions to teach the class. On the first day of the course, Zack had brought a veritable posse to class with him; they did not participate, merely sitting on the sidelines and making as much noise as possible. Of course, neither Jason nor Ernie had any right to say anything but request they be quiet. Whilst Ernie tried his hardest to shut them up for his sake, Jason decided the best course of action would be to ignore their existence. It was obviously a ploy by Zack and it was made all the more obvious when the gang didn’t return for another class ever again.

But Zack had apparently changed tactic with Jason. Instead of bothering him needlessly, Zack was going to crawl under Jason’s skin by actually following directions and being the best possible student. As far as Jason knew, Zack had no previous martial arts experience like Kimberly but he was progressing farther and faster than any of his peers. Jason was not giving him extra lessons but he was pulling a few students aside, such as Zack and Kim, to teach them more advanced material so as not bore them with the more basic stuff they had already mastered. Zack did have one obvious vice and that was his love of dance, which he often mixed in with Jason’s teachings to produce a fairly original form of martial arts. It was just one more way for Zack to get back at the man.

What Zack hadn’t counted on was Jason not giving a damn. Jason knew that Zack considered him a threat or an enemy or something but Jason didn’t think of Zack in any such manner. Jason just thought of him as a gifted, if unpleasant, student. Zack, for his part, had not been as confrontational as the day they had met though his icy snippets of witty banter had been a constant reminder that whatever Zack had thought of him hadn’t faded since Jason became the teacher.

It had been only three weeks since the start of Jason’s course and so many things had changed. His father, of course, knew as much about that change as he knew about martial arts: he recognized it but would not acknowledge it. He had something on his mind, Jason was sure, something very important to him but he was apparently holding his cards closer to his chest than usual. His father was most likely observing Jason’s newfound habit of staying after school for awhile then taking a city bus and a short walk home, or coming home late in the evening, a passenger in Billy’s dad’s ratty blue sedan.

Observation before decision, Jason, was a favorite saying of Mr. Scott, one of the many that he had repeated often during Jason’s life, believing he was grooming rather than driving him away.

Jason wished he could dismiss his feelings about his father as easily as he dismissed class but that was a no-go. Mr. Scott was formulating a decision—probably had been for some time—and Jason knew he wasn’t going to like the outcome.

Jason bowed to the students, all of whom bowed sagely back. Billy walked up to him, looking about as downtrodden as he did everyday after class.

“I’m never going to get this down,” he mumbled.

Jason gave him a smile and a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder. “What’s the one thing that every person needs to complete a difficult task?”

“Intelligence?”

Jason shook his head. “If it were all about that, you would have had this down a long time ago. But think about it, Billy. When you’re trying to figure out a particularly hard problem, what’s the one thing you need the most?”

Billy shrugged. “Time, I suppose.”

“Exactly,” Jason said. “And you have plenty of it. That means that the most essential thing I can teach you is--?”

“Patience,” Billy replied, his frown disappearing.

It always gave Jason a good feeling to see that he knew someone well enough to say the right things to cheer them up. Billy just needed a question to answer. “Look over at Kimberly. She may not seem like the brightest color in the crayon box but watch her do her gymnastics for a while. You’ll notice how concentrated and focused she is even though she makes it look so easy. She didn’t just come out of the womb that way and I didn’t either. We both worked hard and long to be what we’ve become. It takes time and it takes patience. You can’t expect to learn everything I know overnight.”

Billy hesitated a moment. “I don’t mean to be a wailer but that Zack fellow seems to have gotten the hang of it pretty rapidly.”

“Don’t compare yourself to Zack,” Jason said. “Do you think he could conceivably work through the math or science problems that you can?”

“I’ve worked hard to learn how to do it.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You had an aptitude for it and you know it. Zack is a more physical person. His body is used to complicated maneuvers and muscle memory because he loves to dance. It’s just how he is. And you are who you are. You can get it and be just as good as he is, but you have to have patience with yourself. My grandfather used to tell me that perseverance wasn’t just a word of wisdom. It was a path to greatness.”

Billy nodded, a look of discomfort crossing his face as he glanced at the entrance. Following suit, Jason felt a flash of annoyance as he recognized the two that were just entering, scanning the crowd for what Jason could only guess was himself.

“Fantastic,” Billy said sarcastically.

Bulk spotted him first. Tapping Skull on the shoulder to follow him, they made their way, quite impolitely, through the crowd of after-school exercisers.

Billy cringed, muttering to Jason, “Are you psychic too?”

Jason shook his head. “You don’t have to be psychic to know that these two aren’t going to give up on something like that.”

A voice Jason was surprised to hear butt in. “What were you saying about perseverance just now?”

Jason could only give Zack a frank look of exasperation. “Everything is a vice in the wrong hands.”

“More advice from Grandpa?”

“Do you eavesdrop on every conversation you’re not part of?”

“Only when I can.”

By this time Bulk and Skull had reached them. Despite their smiles, Jason could tell this wasn’t going to be a pleasant exchange. For a moment, he appreciated Zack’s stinging but harmless banter with him but it passed as he focused on what Bulk was saying.

“Jason Scott,” Bulk said impressively. “Son of corporate bigwig and douchebag wanna-be politician, Alex Scott. Big, strong Jason Scott. The strongest apparently.”

“So far you’re right,” Jason said, seeing Zack look at him oddly in his peripheral. “On all counts. This a social call, boys, or do you have something on your minds?”

Bulk obviously had some speech planned out and it hadn’t exactly gone to plan. He continued, “Down to business. Like father, like son, I bet.”

“What do you fellas want?” Billy said, feigning aggressiveness and then withering under Skull’s glare moments later.

“We’re willing to forget what happened the other day between the three of us,” said Bulk, never taking his eyes off Jason. “You caught us off our guard. For the last few weeks we’ve been thinking about what it would take to make you pay for it. But, as it turns out, we were pretty impressed. So we’ll leave you alone as long as you teach us some of your karate moves.”

Jason knew his face was unreadable. It was a trick he’d picked up to fool his father into leaving him alone on the lonelier days when Mom and Grandpa Lee were about the only things he could think about. It was coming in handy right now. The only thing these fools could understand was violence. Jason wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that one or both had been victims of some sort of abuse as children, whether it was physical or negligent. But that was neither here nor there.

Jason knew how to take them both down with a single move but that wasn’t how Grandpa had fixed his problems. The path of diplomacy is uncharted. If you are successful, the road leads to peace. Only when you have failed does it lead to war. Jason could guess where talking would get him with these two but he wouldn’t throw away the lessons he was raised to understand. Jason would be damned if it was how he fixed problems.

“I don’t give in to blackmail,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “Believe it or not, there are people in this very room that aren’t afraid of you. Myself included. I’m also pretty sure that I could handle you with the greatest of ease. Even if I couldn’t, I have an entire class of students that aren’t going to be happy to see their teacher on the floor.”

“They’ll want their money back for sure,” Zack said.

“Stay out of this, darkie,” Skull bit out.

Zack frowned. “I was wondering who I’d like to see go down more, him or you two idiots. Thanks for drawing the battlefield for me.”

“Relax, Zack,” Jason said, not knowing whether to be touched that Zack was siding with him. “No one’s fighting today. Not here, not anywhere. They just want to learn how the martial arts, after all. You guys willing to pay?”

“Not kicking your ass should be pretty good currency, I think,” Bulk said, smiling his greasy smile.

“Sorry, I only accept cash,” Jason said. “By the way, any particular reason why you want to learn? Discipline? Exercise?”

Bulk shook his head. “That stuff’s for phonies and geeks, like Billy here. You know why we want to.”

“That’s not what the martial arts were developed for,” Jason replied casually. “Used mostly for defense and rarely used for attack.”

“Consider us the minority,” Skull said.

“So why don’t you teach us and we won’t force Daddy to sign the check to fix your face to its original beauty?” Bulk said happily.

“Well, boys, you put me in a tough spot. I honestly don’t know where to go from here except to tell you it’s a difficult choice for me. I like my face. A lot. And you guys are really scary and everything—”

“Sarcasm can get you in trouble,” Skull cut in, impatient.

“So can taking a swing at me,” Jason said gravely.

For anyone less certain about his skills than Jason, the silence that followed would have been a tense one. That empty chill in one’s stomach that was stranger to no one. Jason could sense it happening all around the room, even inside Zack Taylor. Jason was aware of being the center of attention now, like a sick recreation of what had happened the first time he’d met Bulk and Skull. He hoped that this would be the last time.

“So what are you going to do, Bulk?” he said after a few beats. “You guys going to start a fight, right here in front of everyone? I’m sure the cops would be happy to have so many witnesses to question when they haul you away to juvie paradise.”

Bulk smirked. “Then I guess we made a mistake asking for your help.” He leaned in closer. “This ain’t over, rich boy. This is just the beginning.”

“Get in line,” Zack whispered back to him.

Bulk and Skull went straight for the exit but they took their time. Jason didn’t move or say anything until he’d seen them disappear but the community center’s patrons had apparently already got their been-there-done-that feeling and gone about their business, some of them openly discussing the public humiliation, before they even made it to the door.

Billy exhaled loudly. “All’s well that ends well. I thought you were going to have to defend yourself for a minute there.”

“Bulk and Skull aren’t as dumb as they make themselves out to be in class,” Jason replied. “Even they won’t risk incarceration.” He turned to Zack. “Thanks, I think.”

“I can’t say I like you,” Zack said, shouldering his bag. “But I don’t dislike you enough to side with people like Bulk and Skull.”

“See you later then,” Jason said, his surprise overtaking his voice.

Zack waved half-heartedly as he walked away.

Ernie leaned on the balustrade separating the Juice Bar from the activities floor, a somewhat concerned-looking Trini Kwan by his side. “You guys cool?”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Jason called back. “Sorry about that, Ernie. I told you they wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Ah, you’re worth the trouble, bud,” Ernie said as he went back behind the counter.

Trini lingered a little longer next to the railing, smiling, before sitting back down at the bar.

Billy nudged him. “What’s up?”

Jason shrugged. “I’m not sure, exactly.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m not sure what to think of Trini,” Jason said. “She’s seems nice and sweet. But I don’t know. She seems so eager to help me without really benefiting from it. I don’t know. Maybe I’m starting to think too much like my father.”

“What about me? I’m not exactly using you to my own ends.”

Jason didn’t answer him right away. Billy didn’t have an ulterior motive when they first met but now Billy was taking advantage of Jason’s knowledge of martial arts; Jason supposed that’s what friends did: a mutant form of helping each other out. Jason was using Billy as a sort of an encouraging social coach, after all. But Trini was getting nothing in return for all her trouble.

“Everyone uses everyone else,” Jason replied at last. “Even friends. The difference between being used by a friend is that the friend won’t mind being used back. Is that about right?”

Billy sucked on his cheek thoughtfully. “I can’t help but concur with that, even if it stings a little.”

“So what does Trini want from me?”

“Probably a date.”

Before Jason could communicate his surprise at Billy’s off-hand comment, the building exploded into chaos. A tremor of immense power sent Jason thudding to the floor. He heard Billy—along with just about everyone else in the center—cry out in shock at the sudden quake. Angel Grove was no stranger to earthquakes but they were few and far between. Not many people were prepared for it.

But nothing could have prepared Jason for what happened next. One moment he was helping Billy back up, looking around to see if anyone had been injured in the surprisingly brief panic, when he felt an odd sensation come over him.

It was the way the foot felt when it fell asleep or when you forced yourself out of a bad dream…that tingling, prickly numbness that was neither painful nor welcome. Before it enveloped him completely in a red haze, he saw Billy disappear behind a strange blue static.

And then he felt like he was flying.

[geno]

Well I wonder when Bulk and Skull will figure out Jason is not going to give them whatever it is they really want. Also looks like he is going to have to figure out what the deal is with Trini. He also seems to need to figure out how to have better relations with Zack and I still think he is going to have problems with Kim given what his father seems to be up too

[night ranger]

more plz!

[BryanI305]

CHAPTER VII

Kimberly could almost hear the tearing of her muscles as she moved from handstand to firmly planted feet. The balance beam that kept her above the milling crowd was just as tightly planted as the ground; Kim felt so sure on it, so absolutely confident. She was untouchable.

Kimberly could never frown on the beam but nor could she smile. The child in her refused to bury the joy she felt when her hands were powdered and her body was moving so gracefully through the ether; yet the gymnast in her, so very serious, could not allow herself to be distracted by such petty desires. With distraction came disaster. Concentration was the key to the great gymnast.


It might have been a reason why she was taking Jason’s class. She remembered how her old mentors would constantly fuss about her potential but remark on her lack of concentration. She also remembered that one had even ventured to suggest she take a martial arts class to hone her mind into a more focused machine. It had worked. Kimberly hadn’t had to look back since.

Kimberly didn’t lack any concentration. And she wanted everyone, including her sensei, to believe that her ritualistic exercises on the balance beam after class were merely a way to push herself beyond the boundaries she had already explored. Jason in particular seemed to understand exactly what she meant. And each day it was harder and harder to get back on the beam.
Sensei Jason had realized how skilled she was in the martial arts. She could tell he was very impressed with the ease of her transition from flexibly rigid to rigidly flexible, and he demonstrated it by giving her and a few others extra, more demanding moves to practice. After those lessons, the last thing Kimberly wanted to do was ascend the beam.

Secondto the last thing, anyway.

Kimberly had discovered fairly early on that if the body was concentrated on performance or on simply not hurting oneself, then all other thoughts—good or bad—were stored away for another day.

The last thing Kimberly wanted was to go home.

But as the fatigue set in and she almost faltered on her single-footed balance, she realized that she’d run out of excuses. Perhaps she could go shopping. But no. She didn’t want to exacerbate the financial problems at home which, in turn, would exacerbate the marital problems. Her laundry list of reasons not to go home had reached a terminus.

Now, the landing. She chose a particular difficult one to end her day with. After all, it couldn’t be more difficult than opening the door of her own house to the chill of divorce.

She stretched her hands to the sky. Bent her knees to a 45 degree angle. Felt the pressure of her ankles as the sent her into air, felt the thrilling sensation of being touched by nothing; then her hands caught the beam so tense and secure beneath them. Her elbows crooked, arms burning. She pushed off. Another moment of flight. Any moment she would feel the soles of her feet find the beam again; then she would somersault off and land perfectly, just like she always did.

Time always seemed to slow when she moved into her grace. She heard the rumbling a millisecond before she expected to land on the beam but could make no sense of it. When she reached the beam, it wasn’t with perfection.

The side of her left ankle grazed the rod as she fell. Stars burst into her blackened view as the side of her stomach connected painfully with the beam, sending her crumbling to the padded floor. She heard, through the haze, the frightened cries of the people around her. Then the stars changed hue, the black of her shut eyes becoming a pinkish color, the pain numbed. For a moment, she thought that she had gone crazy and that she hadn’t fallen off the beam after all; it was just a momentary lapse of attention and that right now she was flipping off the beam.

But the moment lasted too long. And her whole body, not just the part that hurt, felt as if it had been numbed to sensation.

And then the pink disappeared and the blood flowed more warmly through her veins. She heard familiar voices muttering in awe and protest but didn’t understand. She opened her eyes for the first time since she’d struck the beam, only to find that she didn’t recognize the floor, or her surroundings.

“What in the hell—” she groaned.

“Kimberly!” It was Jason’s voice. And then she was being helped up off the cold, steely flooring. “Are you all right? What happened?”

“I don’t know. I-I fell. I never fall.”

“There was a quake,” Jason said.

Kimberly looked around, wincing. “An earthquake can transform the Juice Bar into a—what the hell am I looking at anyway?” They were standing in a high circular room, surrounded in a circle by odd computer panels that looked as if they had been brought in from a Star Trek set. There were several tall pillars, each swirling with a different gaseous light. There was a smaller pillar with an orb on it, facing the largest of the pillars, which glowed with a silver glare. The ceiling seemed to be miles away, or not there at all, as it was a perfect simulation of the night sky. There was an eerie, ethereal quality to the place that should have given her the chills but instead she only felt…safe.

“It’s some class of command center, I’m guessing,” said Billy, who she saw looking in awe at the computers. Zack Taylor, looking especially grumpy, was standing with his arms crossed, looking around suspiciously as if awaiting an ambush; Trini Kwan was there as well, keeping very close to Kim…or Jason.

Kimberly politely shrugged off Jason’s help and managed to stand on her own without too much pain. It was clearing up.

Jason turned immediately to Billy. “What can you tell us about this place? And how’d we get here?”

“I wish I had an answer to give you, Jace,” Billy said, “but one minute we’re in the middle of an earthquake, the next we’re here. I’m not sure how.”

“Well, if there’s a way in, there’s probably a way out,” Zack said, heading out of the center of computers.

“Wait,” Jason said, “we don’t know what this place is or how to get out. I think it’s safer if we stay here.”

“So stay here and just hope everything pans out, that’s your plan?”

“Pretty much.”

“Staying put is the best thing that people can do in survival situation, nine times out of ten,” Trini mumbled, uncharacteristically shaken.

“Well, you guys can stay here and rot,” Zack said, “but I’m leaving.”

A booming voice suddenly echoed throughout the entire edifice. “That would be ill-advised.”

Kimberly turned to see that swirling in the largest of the pillars was a misty head, the exact color of the gases around it, save for the bluish outlines of the facial features. Her instinctive nature was to scream.

“Please do not be frightened,” it boomed.

But Kimberly didn’t hear. She was prepared to run when Jason caught her arm.
“Hold on,” he said, “don’t. Don’t be scared. I’m here. We’re here.”

She looked around to see that Trini too was on the verge of running but that Billy was actually getting closer to the shaft. She looked around to see that
Zack had also stopped in his tracks.

“Who are you?” Billy said, seemingly unafraid.

“My name is Zordon,” the floating head said. “I am here to help you. And your world.”

“What are you talking about?” Jason demanded. “What do you want?”

“To keep your world and your civilization from destruction.”

“By kidnapping us?” Zack shouted. “What the hell does that have to do with anything? And how the hell did we get here in the first place?”

“All these questions will be answered in time,” the head called Zordon replied. “For right now, we must move quickly. Your world is in great peril.”

“We?” Trini said. “What we?”

“You have been chosen.”

“For what?” Kimberly asked, hearing her voice crack.

“To save the world.”

“Are you insane?” Zack called out, laughing. He was, however, moving to join the group. “Don’t know if you noticed, floating-talking head, but we’re just teenagers. Regular, ordinary. We’re not heroes. We couldn’t save the world if we wanted to.”

“I will give you powers.”

The center fell silent. Kimberly wanted to laugh but considering the circumstances she couldn’t. She was too afraid of this Zordon character and his center of weirdness to even feel genuine mirth. This was a nervous laughter. In a situation like this, what was the proper way to act?

“That’s it,” Zack said. “Floating head or not, I’m out of here.”

“Please do not leave,” said a new voice, much higher-pitched and with an electronic quality to it.

“Ah, good, you’ve returned,” Zordon said as a robot, about 4 feet tall with a domed head, materialized from a white doorway. He held a large box with carved symbols and designs on it. In the relative darkness, Kimberly couldn’t tell what they were.

“Yes, Zordon,” said the robot, “and I have brought the morphers and the coins.”

Billy moved away from Zordon, his eyes wide. “A fully sentient, multi-functional automaton. It’s incredible. I’ve—I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Well, thank you,” the robot said.

“This is Alpha 5,” Zordon said. “He is the day-to-day operator of this base and the extension of my will.”

“Way too much,” Kimberly mumbled, feeling suddenly nauseous. Was it the pain in her abdomen? Or the overload of the strange, unexplainable circumstances she had found herself in? Or the combination of both?

Jason put his hand on her shoulder, a comforting, strong hand. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t want to know what’s going on. We’re not the ones you’re looking for.”

“I understand your hesitance,” Zordon said. “I also understand your fear. But you must understand that all five of you were chosen.”

“By you?” Jason said.

“In a way,” Zordon said. “But we are pressed for time. This command center is under attack by a powerful being. She is after a piece of magic that could destroy this entire planet if it is allowed to fall into her hands. She must not succeed in her quest. You must stop her.”

“Powers, you said,” Jason muttered. “Powers.”

“Beyond anything you’ve ever imagined,” Zordon confirmed.

“And what if we don’t want them? What if we say that we don’t think we’re up to this?”

“You were chosen.”

“You keep saying that,” Zack exploded. “But it doesn’t mean shit to me. It just means that I’m not where I’m supposed to be. If the world’s going to end than the last place I want to be is here.”

Zordon ignored Zack’s outburst, choosing instead to speak to Jason. “But that is not how you feel, is it?”

Jason hesitated. “I’m speaking for all of us.”

“But what do you feel?”

“If the world is in danger and I can do something, then I’ll do it.”

“You were chosen well,” Zordon said with a surreal nod of his head.

“I feel the same,” Trini said, much more confident. “All my life I’ve tried to save this world from itself. I suppose it’d be okay if I tried to save it from something else too.”

Billy nodded his head in assent. “I don’t know how much good I’ll do. I’m not a hero. I’m a scientist.”

Kimberly didn’t say anything. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Were these three serious? They didn’t know what was going on or if Zordon was the threat to the world. They were taking him on blind faith.

“Zachary, Kimberly,” Zordon said, “what do you feel?”

“You know our names?” Kimberly asked, more to keep from answering than in surprise. They had the power to kidnap teenagers, after all.

“Of course,” Alpha 5 said. “We know much about each of you.”

“How?” Billy asked.

“Why, the Federal Bureau of Investigation has files on everybody in the country, including yours.”

“You have access to that?” Billy said, again in awe.

Zack finally spoke up. “You want to know what I feel? I feel a little harassed. I don’t think I belong here. I don’t want to save the world. I just want to go back to doing what I was doing before you stole me and forget this ever happened. You three bozos want to risk your lives fighting a magical-whatever then that’s your problem. Not mine. I want out.”

Everyone looked at Kimberly. She didn’t know what to say. There was only one thing she could say. “No.”

Zordon nodded in disappointment. “The world needs you.”

“The world can do just fine without us,” Zack said.

“You were each chosen to become part of a team. If one will not join then you must all decline.”

“Then we decline,” Jason said.

“Is this your choice?” Zordon asked.

Kimberly nodded with everyone else. She could feel the shame welling up inside her, staining her face.

“Send them back, Alpha,” said Zordon and it wasn’t hard to catch the hurt in his floating-head voice. “Send them back.”

She’d been chosen. She’d been asked to help save the world. From what exactly, she didn’t know. But if Zordon was for real—and it increasingly seemed that way, as he was willing to let them go—then she was turning down Earth’s best chance for survival. At least, that’s the way Zordon had made it seem. Why, of all the people that could have been chosen, why them?

“Wait,” she said suddenly, as Alpha 5 leaned over one of the high-tech computers. “Wait. I want to know why you chose us.”

“I did not choose you myself,” Zordon said. “Long ago, I designed a computer system that would select the perfect warriors for this team from a designated area. The area now is Angel Grove and it’s two sister cities. And the computer selected each of you for certain qualities.”

“Like what?” said an impatient Zack.

“Your suitability to the task. Your potential to work together as a team. Your individual strengths and skills. Billy, you were chosen for your outstanding genius and your enthusiasm and optimism. Zack, you have always been a fast learner as well as tenacious and loyal. Kimberly, your agility, heart and trust have never steered you wrong. Trini, your desire to help this world, no matter what its cost to your own well-being, as well as your training in the ways of the warrior, always has and always will serve you well.

“And Jason…Jason, you were chosen not just because you are amongst the most accomplished and skillful of the martial arts masters, but because you have the ability to see good in all people and take responsibility for those around you, even if they may not deserve or require your help.”

Kimberly closed her eyes and tried to examine what she really felt, deep down. It was so hard to push away the bizarre, to find what it was that was going through her heart and not her head. Her mind was racing too quickly, trying to organize all that she’d heard.

She turned to Jason instead. “If you’re up for this, then I am too.” Jason made her feel safe. If he was going to be there then she should be just fine. Besides, if Zordon really wanted to hurt them, he wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.

Jason looked at Zack. “Look, this is all just so confusing and I’ll be the first to admit that things are going a little faster than I’d like but…if we have the potential to work together as a team than it’d be cool if you didn’t just turn this down right away.”

Zack looked down at his shoes as if they’d do something interesting. There was quiet anxiety in the room and from Zordon she could almost feel the fervent desire to be patient in a situation that called for action. She stared at Zack, willing him to make a decision, yes or no, it didn’t matter.

Finally, he looked up at Zordon. “You said something about powers.”

“Are you a believer then?”

“You’re a head. Floating in a giant tube thing. There’s a robot staring at me. We’re in a computer geek’s wet dream. I don’t think I’m going out on a limb here.”

“Fair enough,” Zordon said. He nodded in Alpha 5’s direction. The robot opened the box that it had set on one of the consoles. In them were five rectangular objects, silver, with red bands that said something she could see encircling an empty circular orifice. Surrounding them were five golden coins with symbols on them matching the ones on the box.

“These are your morphers,” Zordon, “and also your distinct coins.”

“Morphers?” Kimberly asked, her head still spinning. Alpha began handing each of them one of each.

“Upon using them, you will transform—morph—into a super-powered being; each of your physical abilities will be enhanced to its maximum potential. You will be able to withstand and endure attacks that would kill an ordinary human—”

“Oh, great,” Zack said, taking his coin and inspecting it.

Zordon ignored him. “—You will also be able to deliver attacks of your own, powers beyond your own comprehension.”

Kimberly picked up her morpher and Alpha put one of the coins in her hand. The symbol on it was actually a winged creature, which, if she didn’t know any better, was a pterodactyl.

“How do we, uh, transform?” Jason asked.

“Place your coins inside the morpher, then hold it out from your body,” Zordon said. “Call out the name of your individual powers and it will be activated.”
“And what exactly are we looking at?” Trini said, holding out her coin. It looked like a tiger or something.

Billy looked at it. “Prehistoric animals? The powers are based on them?”

“Yes,” Zordon said. “The black mastodon, pink pterodactyl, blue triceratops, yellow saber-tooth tiger and the red tyrannosaurus.”

“I’m an elephant,” Zack said unenthusiastically. “What is this, magic?”

“No, this is science, so far advanced that your world may not see anything else like it for another thousand years. To someone unfamiliar with it, it may seem like magic, but rest assured, it is nothing mystical, merely practical.”

“And what will we be fighting, exactly?” Jason asked.

“Her name is Rita Repulsa,” Zordon replied, “and she does employ magic, black
magic, to be exact, and she is absolutely ruthless.”

“I’d be pretty pissed too, if my last name was ‘Repulsa,’” Zack mumbled.

“Where is she and how do we get there?” Jason said.

Zordon was quick to respond. “The moment you morph, Alpha will teleport you to where she is. At the moment, she is outside, accompanied by another human—I do not know if he is under a spell or not—trying her best to get inside our defenses. That was the earthquake you may have felt earlier.”

“How come we can’t feel or hear an attack?” Zack asked, suspicious.

“This is a fortress, a very powerful one. It will take more than her incomplete powers to shake our foundation. However, as we speak, Angel Grove and the surrounding areas are suffering from the tremors caused by Rita. Observe the viewing globe.”

“The what?” Trini said.

Alpha directed their attention to the orb they’d noticed earlier. It was now showing a drably dressed mass, a gigantic staff in its hand, standing next to a man who was cowering next to her.

“That’s her?” Zack said incredulously. “Hell, I don’t need your powers. I’ll go out there right now.”

“You will not be a match for her, even in her weakened state,” Zordon said. “You must morph to defeat her. Be aware, however, that she employs more physical beings to fight her battles.”

“We’ll take care of it, then,” Jason said. “I don’t understand everything that’s going on, but I don’t think I need to. I know that we weren’t chose for nothing. If we’re the ones that are supposed to suspend our disbelief and fight this Rita, then I’ll do what I can. We’ll do what we can.”

“That is why you were selected,” Zordon said. “Go forth. Become what you were destined to be. It’s morphing time.”

“Right,” Jason said. He slipped his coin into his morpher. “Let’s do it.”

Kimberly and the others did as they were bid. Even in the danger that she’d found herself in, she still felt self-conscious as she held the morpher out in front of her. Then—

“Mastodon!” Zack cried out.

“Pterodactyl!” she said, more as a reaction to her surprise that Zack had been first to say anything. Electricity seemed to become blood in her veins. The energized feeling she suddenly had was the most amazing thing she’d ever felt before in her life. It was as if someone had given her a cure for depression, for lethargies. She suddenly felt invincible, impenetrable. Despite all this, she heard Billy, then Trini and finally Jason:

“Triceratops!”

“Saber-Tooth Tiger!”

“Tyrannosaurus!”

As the blinding flash of power cleared away, she found that she was no longer in the command center. She was outside, in the desert that encircled the eastern side of Angel Grove, on a cliff overlooking where Rita and her companion stood. There were beams shooting from the staff. She was a witch after all.

She looked around and found that there were costumed, colored figures, all in different helmets, standing around her. She looked down at herself and found that she also wore an identical suit, hers in pink. It didn’t feel like she was wearing anything. She could only assume that she was wearing a helmet, like the others.

The others, for their part, were looking around and at themselves in surprise just as much as she was. Zordon hadn’t lied to them. He’d been telling the truth.

The one in red—Jason—finally said, “I guess this is it, guys.” He sounded like he was talking straight in her ear.

Zordon’s voice suddenly roared to life. “You have successfully completed your transformation into the most powerful human beings this world has ever seen. Make Earth proud. Defend it against Rita and her minions. Claim your place as the fighting force known throughout the galaxy as the Power Rangers.”

[BryanI305]

CHAPTER VII

Kimberly could almost hear the tearing of her muscles as she moved from handstand to firmly planted feet. The balance beam that kept her above the milling crowd was just as tightly planted as the ground; Kim felt so sure on it, so absolutely confident. She was untouchable.

Kimberly could never frown on the beam but nor could she smile. The child in her refused to bury the joy she felt when her hands were powdered and her body was moving so gracefully through the ether; yet the gymnast in her, so very serious, could not allow herself to be distracted by such petty desires. With distraction came disaster. Concentration was the key to the great gymnast.

It might have been a reason why she was taking Jason’s class. She remembered how her old mentors would constantly fuss about her potential but remark on her lack of concentration. She also remembered that one had even ventured to suggest she take a martial arts class to hone her mind into a more focused machine. It had worked. Kimberly hadn’t had to look back since.

Kimberly didn’t lack any concentration. And she wanted everyone, including her sensei, to believe that her ritualistic exercises on the balance beam after class were merely a way to push herself beyond the boundaries she had already explored. Jason in particular seemed to understand exactly what she meant. And each day it was harder and harder to get back on the beam.

Sensei Jason had realized how skilled she was in the martial arts. She could tell he was very impressed with the ease of her transition from flexibly rigid to rigidly flexible, and he demonstrated it by giving her and a few others extra, more demanding moves to practice. After those lessons, the last thing Kimberly wanted to do was ascend the beam.

Second to the last thing, anyway.

Kimberly had discovered fairly early on that if the body was concentrated on performance or on simply not hurting oneself, then all other thoughts—good or bad—were stored away for another day.

The last thing Kimberly wanted was to go home.

But as the fatigue set in and she almost faltered on her single-footed balance, she realized that she’d run out of excuses. Perhaps she could go shopping. But no. She didn’t want to exacerbate the financial problems at home which, in turn, would exacerbate the marital problems. Her laundry list of reasons not to go home had reached a terminus.

Now, the landing. She chose a particular difficult one to end her day with. After all, it couldn’t be more difficult than opening the door of her own house to the chill of divorce.

She stretched her hands to the sky. Bent her knees to a 45 degree angle. Felt the pressure of her ankles as they sent her into air, felt the thrilling sensation of being touched by nothing; then her hands caught the beam so tense and secure beneath them. Her elbows crooked, arms burning. She pushed off. Another moment of flight. Any moment she would feel the soles of her feet find the beam again; then she would somersault off and land perfectly, just like she always did.

Time always seemed to slow when she moved into her grace. She heard the rumbling a millisecond before she expected to land on the beam but could make no sense of it. When she reached the beam, it wasn’t with perfection.

The side of her left ankle grazed the rod as she fell. Stars burst into her blackened view as the side of her stomach connected painfully with the beam, sending her crumbling to the padded floor. She heard, through the haze, the frightened cries of the people around her. Then the stars changed hue, the black of her shut eyes becoming a pinkish color, the pain numbed. For a moment, she thought that she had gone crazy and that she hadn’t fallen off the beam after all; it was just a momentary lapse of attention and that right now she was flipping off the beam.

But the moment lasted too long. And her whole body, not just the part that hurt, felt as if it had been numbed to sensation.

And then the pink disappeared and the blood flowed more warmly through her veins. She heard familiar voices muttering in awe and protest but didn’t understand. She opened her eyes for the first time since she’d struck the beam, only to find that she didn’t recognize the floor, or her surroundings.

“What in the hell—” she groaned.

“Kimberly!” It was Jason’s voice. And then she was being helped up off the cold, steely flooring. “Are you all right? What happened?”

“I don’t know. I-I fell. I never fall.”

“There was a quake,” Jason said.

Kimberly looked around, wincing. “An earthquake can transform the Juice Bar into a—what the hell am I looking at anyway?” They were standing in a high circular room, surrounded in a circle by odd computer panels that looked as if they had been brought in from a Star Trek set. There were several tall pillars, each swirling with a different gaseous light. There was a smaller pillar with an orb on it, facing the largest of the pillars, which glowed with a silver glare. The ceiling seemed to be miles away, or not there at all, as it was a perfect simulation of the night sky. There was an eerie, ethereal quality to the place that should have given her the chills but instead she only felt…safe.

“It’s some class of command center, I’m guessing,” said Billy, who she saw looking in awe at the computers. Zack Taylor, looking especially grumpy, was standing with his arms crossed, looking around suspiciously as if awaiting an ambush; Trini Kwan was there as well, keeping very close to Kim…or Jason.

Kimberly politely shrugged off Jason’s help and managed to stand on her own without too much pain. It was clearing up.

Jason turned immediately to Billy. “What can you tell us about this place? And how’d we get here?”

“I wish I had an answer to give you, Jace,” Billy said, “but one minute we’re in the middle of an earthquake, the next we’re here. I’m not sure how.”

“Well, if there’s a way in, there’s probably a way out,” Zack said, heading out of the center of computers.

“Wait,” Jason said, “we don’t know what this place is or how to get out. I think it’s safer if we stay here.”

“So stay here and just hope everything pans out, that’s your plan?”

“Pretty much.”

“Staying put is the best thing that people can do in survival situation, nine times out of ten,” Trini mumbled, uncharacteristically shaken.

“Well, you guys can stay here and rot,” Zack said, “but I’m leaving.”

A booming voice suddenly echoed throughout the entire edifice. “That would be ill-advised.”

Kimberly turned to see that swirling in the largest of the pillars was a misty head, the exact color of the gases around it, save for the bluish outlines of the facial features. Her instinctive nature was to scream.

“Please do not be frightened,” it said.

But Kimberly didn’t hear. She was prepared to run when Jason caught her arm.

“Hold on,” he said, “don’t. Don’t be scared. I’m here. We’re here.”

She looked around to see that Trini too was on the verge of running but that Billy was actually getting closer to the shaft. She looked around to see that Zack had also stopped in his tracks.

“Who are you?” Billy said, seemingly unafraid.

“My name is Zordon,” the floating head said. “I am here to help you. And your world.”

“What are you talking about?” Jason demanded. “What do you want?”

“To keep your world and your civilization from destruction.”

“By kidnapping us?” Zack shouted. “What the hell does that have to do with anything? And how the hell did we get here in the first place?”

“All these questions will be answered in time,” the head called Zordon replied. “For right now, we must move quickly. Your world is in great peril.”

“We?” Trini said. “What we?”

“You have been chosen.”

“For what?” Kimberly asked, hearing her voice crack.

“To save the world.”

“Are you insane?” Zack called out, laughing. He was, however, moving to join the group. “Don’t know if you noticed, floating-talking head, but we’re just teenagers. Regular, ordinary. We’re not heroes. We couldn’t save the world if we wanted to.”

“I will give you powers.”

The center fell silent. Kimberly wanted to laugh but considering the circumstances she couldn’t. She was too afraid of this Zordon character and his center of weirdness to even feel genuine mirth. This was a nervous laughter. In a situation like this, what was the proper way to act?

“That’s it,” Zack said. “Floating head or not, I’m out of here.”

“Please do not leave,” said a new voice, much higher-pitched and with an electronic quality to it.

“Ah, good, you’ve returned,” Zordon said as a robot, about 4 feet tall with a domed head, materialized from a white doorway. He held a large box with carved symbols and designs on it. In the relative darkness, Kimberly couldn’t tell what they were.

“Yes, Zordon,” said the robot, “and I have brought the morphers and the coins.”

Billy moved away from Zordon, his eyes wide. “A fully sentient, multi-functional automaton. It’s incredible. I’ve—I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Well, thank you,” the robot said.

“This is Alpha 5,” Zordon said. “He is the day-to-day operator of this base and the extension of my will.”

“Way too much,” Kimberly mumbled, feeling suddenly nauseous. Was it the pain in her abdomen? Or the overload of the strange, unexplainable circumstances she had found herself in? Or the combination of both?

Jason put his hand on her shoulder, a comforting, strong hand. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t want to know what’s going on. We’re not the ones you’re looking for.”

“I understand your hesitance,” Zordon said. “I also understand your fear. But you must understand that all five of you were chosen.”

“By you?” Jason said.

“In a way,” Zordon said. “But we are pressed for time. This command center is under attack by a powerful being. She is after a piece of magic that could destroy this entire planet if it is allowed to fall into her hands. She must not succeed in her quest. You must stop her.”

“Powers, you said,” Jason muttered. “Powers.”

“Beyond anything you’ve ever imagined,” Zordon confirmed.

“And what if we don’t want them? What if we say that we don’t think we’re up to this?”

“You were chosen.”

“You keep saying that,” Zack exploded. “But it doesn’t mean shit to me. It just means that I’m not where I’m supposed to be. If the world’s going to end than the last place I want to be is here.”

Zordon ignored Zack’s outburst, choosing instead to speak to Jason. “But that is not how you feel, is it?”

Jason hesitated. “I’m speaking for all of us.”

“But what do you feel?”

“If the world is in danger and I can do something, then I’ll do it.”

“You were chosen well,” Zordon said with a surreal nod of his head.

“I feel the same,” Trini said, much more confident. “All my life I’ve tried to save this world from itself. I suppose it’d be okay if I tried to save it from something else too.”

Billy nodded his head in assent. “I don’t know how much good I’ll do. I’m not a hero. I’m a scientist.”

Kimberly didn’t say anything. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Were these three serious? They didn’t know what was going on or if Zordon was the threat to the world. They were taking him on blind faith.

“Zachary, Kimberly,” Zordon said, “what do you feel?”

“You know our names?” Kimberly asked, more to keep from answering than in surprise. They had the power to kidnap teenagers, after all.

“Of course,” Alpha 5 said. “We know much about each of you.”

“How?” Billy asked.

“Why, the Federal Bureau of Investigation has files on everybody in the country, including yours.”

“You have access to that?” Billy said, again in awe.

Zack finally spoke up. “You want to know what I feel? I feel a little harassed. I don’t think I belong here. I don’t want to save the world. I just want to go back to doing what I was doing before you stole me and forget this ever happened. You three bozos want to risk your lives fighting a magical-whatever then that’s your problem. Not mine. I want out.”

Everyone looked at Kimberly. She didn’t know what to say. There was only one thing she could say. “No.”

Zordon nodded in disappointment. “The world needs you.”

“The world can do just fine without us,” Zack said.

“You were each chosen to become part of a team. If one will not join then you must all decline.”

“Then we decline,” Jason said.

“Is this your choice?” Zordon asked.

Kimberly nodded with everyone else. She could feel the shame welling up inside her, staining her face.

“Send them back, Alpha,” said Zordon and it wasn’t hard to catch the hurt in his floating-head voice. “Send them back.”

She’d been chosen. She’d been asked to help save the world. From what exactly, she didn’t know. But if Zordon was for real—and it increasingly seemed that way, as he was willing to let them go—then she was turning down Earth’s best chance for survival. At least, that’s the way Zordon had made it seem. Why, of all the people that could have been chosen, why them?

“Wait,” she said suddenly, as Alpha 5 leaned over one of the high-tech computers. “Wait. I want to know why you chose us.”

“I did not choose you myself,” Zordon said. “Long ago, I designed a computer system that would select the perfect warriors for this team from a designated area. The area now is Angel Grove and it’s two sister cities. And the computer selected each of you for certain qualities.”

“Like what?” said an impatient Zack.

“Your suitability to the task. Your potential to work together as a team. Your individual strengths and skills. Billy, you were chosen for your outstanding genius and your enthusiasm and optimism. Zack, you have always been a fast learner as well as tenacious and loyal. Kimberly, your agility, heart and trust have never steered you wrong. Trini, your desire to help this world, no matter what its cost to your own well-being, as well as your training in the ways of the warrior, always has and always will serve you well.

“And Jason…Jason, you were chosen not just because you are amongst the most accomplished and skillful of the martial arts masters, but because you have the ability to see good in all people and take responsibility for those around you, even if they may not deserve or require your help.”

Kimberly closed her eyes and tried to examine what she really felt, deep down. It was so hard to push away the bizarre, to find what it was that was going through her heart and not her head. Her mind was racing too quickly, trying to organize all that she’d heard.

She turned to Jason instead. “If you’re up for this, then I am too.” Jason made her feel safe. If he was going to be there then she should be just fine. Besides, if Zordon really wanted to hurt them, he wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.

Jason looked at Zack. “Look, this is all just so confusing and I’ll be the first to admit that things are going a little faster than I’d like but…if we have the potential to work together as a team than it’d be cool if you didn’t just turn this down right away.”

Zack looked down at his shoes as if they’d do something interesting. There was quiet anxiety in the room and from Zordon she could almost feel the fervent desire to be patient in a situation that called for action. She stared at Zack, willing him to make a decision, yes or no, it didn’t matter.

Finally, he looked up at Zordon. “You said something about powers.”

“Are you a believer then?”

“You’re a head. Floating in a giant tube thing. There’s a robot staring at me. We’re in a computer geek’s wet dream. I don’t think I’m going out on a limb here.”

“Fair enough,” Zordon said. He nodded in Alpha 5’s direction. The robot opened the box that it had set on one of the consoles. In them were five rectangular objects, silver, with red bands that said something she could see encircling an empty circular orifice. Surrounding them were five golden coins with symbols on them matching the ones on the box.

“These are your morphers,” Zordon, “and also your distinct coins.”

“Morphers?” Kimberly asked, her head still spinning. Alpha began handing each of them one of each.

“Upon using them, you will transform—morph—into a super-powered being; each of your physical abilities will be enhanced to its maximum potential. You will be able to withstand and endure attacks that would kill an ordinary human—”

“Oh, great,” Zack said, taking his coin and inspecting it.

Zordon ignored him. “—You will also be able to deliver attacks of your own, powers beyond your own comprehension.”

Kimberly picked up her morpher and Alpha put one of the coins in her hand. The symbol on it was actually a winged creature, which, if she didn’t know any better, was a pterodactyl.

“How do we, uh, transform?” Jason asked.

“Place your coins inside the morpher, then hold it out from your body,” Zordon said. “Call out the name of your individual powers and it will be activated.”
“And what exactly are we looking at?” Trini said, holding out her coin. It looked like a tiger or something.

Billy looked at it. “Prehistoric animals? The powers are based on them?”

“Yes,” Zordon said. “The black mastodon, pink pterodactyl, blue triceratops, yellow saber-tooth tiger and the red tyrannosaurus.”

“I’m an elephant,” Zack said unenthusiastically. “What is this, magic?”

“No, this is science, so far advanced that your world may not see anything else like it for another thousand years. To someone unfamiliar with it, it may seem like magic, but rest assured, it is nothing mystical, merely practical.”

“And what will we be fighting, exactly?” Jason asked.

“Her name is Rita Repulsa,” Zordon replied, “and she does employ magic, black
magic, to be exact, and she is absolutely ruthless.”

“I’d be pretty pissed too, if my last name was ‘Repulsa,’” Zack mumbled.

“Where is she and how do we get there?” Jason said.

Zordon was quick to respond. “The moment you morph, Alpha will teleport you to where she is. At the moment, she is outside, accompanied by another human—I do not know if he is under a spell or not—trying her best to get inside our defenses. That was the earthquake you may have felt earlier.”

“How come we can’t feel or hear an attack?” Zack asked, suspicious.

“This is a fortress, a very powerful one. It will take more than her incomplete powers to shake our foundation. However, as we speak, Angel Grove and the surrounding areas are suffering from the tremors caused by Rita. Observe the viewing globe.”

“The what?” Trini said.

Alpha directed their attention to the orb they’d noticed earlier. It was now showing a drably dressed mass, a gigantic staff in its hand, standing next to a man who was cowering next to her.

“That’s her?” Zack said incredulously. “Hell, I don’t need your powers. I’ll go out there right now.”

“You will not be a match for her, even in her weakened state,” Zordon said. “You must morph to defeat her. Be aware, however, that she employs more physical beings to fight her battles.”

“We’ll take care of it, then,” Jason said. “I don’t understand everything that’s going on, but I don’t think I need to. I know that we weren’t chose for nothing. If we’re the ones that are supposed to suspend our disbelief and fight this Rita, then I’ll do what I can. We’ll do what we can.”

“That is why you were selected,” Zordon said. “Go forth. Become what you were destined to be. It’s morphing time.”

“Right,” Jason said. He slipped his coin into his morpher. “Let’s do it.”

Kimberly and the others did as they were bid. Even in the danger that she’d found herself in, she still felt self-conscious as she held the morpher out in front of her. Then—

“Mastodon!” Zack cried out.

“Pterodactyl!” she said, more as a reaction to her surprise that Zack had been first to say anything. Electricity seemed to become blood in her veins. The energized feeling she suddenly had was the most amazing thing she’d ever felt before in her life. It was as if someone had given her a cure for depression, for lethargies. She suddenly felt invincible, impenetrable. Despite all this, she heard Billy, then Trini and finally Jason:

“Triceratops!”

“Saber-Tooth Tiger!”

“Tyrannosaurus!”

As the blinding flash of power cleared away, she found that she was no longer in the command center. She was outside, in the desert that encircled the eastern side of Angel Grove, on a cliff overlooking where Rita and her companion stood. There were beams shooting from the staff. She was a witch after all.

She looked around and found that there were costumed, colored figures, all in different helmets, standing around her. She looked down at herself and found that she also wore an identical suit, hers in pink. It didn’t feel like she was wearing anything. She could only assume that she was wearing a helmet, like the others.

The others, for their part, were looking around and at themselves in surprise just as much as she was. Zordon hadn’t lied to them. He’d been telling the truth.

The one in red—Jason—finally said, “I guess this is it, guys.” He sounded like he was talking straight in her ear.

Zordon’s voice suddenly roared to life. “You have successfully completed your transformation into the most powerful human beings this world has ever seen. Make Earth proud. Defend it against Rita and her minions. Claim your place as the fighting force known throughout the universe as the Power Rangers.”

[geno]

Well that was a very interesting chapter and seems home life is taking its toll on Kim and that the earthquake was the reason she didn't do her dimount the she planned

[night ranger]

More Pretty Plz!!!!!

[Splush]

I was just about to read chapter six when I decided to take a break and leave you some words of encouragement and praise. I rarely post here anymore but this story has sparked up my interest and love for power rangers. I had almost pretty much given up on the PR fan fiction fandom (Nothing beats the old days of Chryl Roberts and Buse) until I read this….hahaha guess I’m making you seem like the jesus of fan fiction.

I’m really diggin the changes you made to the characters and storylines, out of all the alternative version of MMPR this has to be the my favorite. I’m A HUGEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE Jason fan - I’ve always felt there was something deeper to him than the scripts let on. He somewhat reminds me of Ryu the honorable martial artist who’s sole ambition is to perfect his craft. Your getting me nervous though I see some flirting going on between him and trini….I’m hoping for some Jason and Kim action. I always felt they were the most deserving couple that never was but should have been. Jason prob. just to modest and respecting to break past the friendship barrier.

Keep the chapters rolling …. I have to go back to miserable life when this is over lol.

[BryanI305]

I have to say that this has been an unexpectedly rewarding experience for me. I'm well-known at another, more obscure site which I write fan-fic for, and I've done well by my friends, I suppose. But here I'm still a newb and not as well-versed as my companions in the ways of the Ranger. But since MMPR was a childhood love--and is still a love today--I couldn't just ignore my desires to have a take on it.

To hear from others, mostly people I've never really had contact with before, that I'm doing well and that they're very interested in what I have to say is more praise than you can possibly imagine. Though I love to hear specifics, night ranger's pleas for more are gracious enough. If I have given just one person a good read, I've done my job. Thanks so much to each of you for your support. More to come in less than a week!

[BryanI305]

CHAPTER VIII

Jason couldn’t believe the way he felt. No fatigue, no strain, none of the usual aftermath of his arduous training and teaching, which he had been a victim of up until he shouted out—somewhat ridiculously—the name of a dinosaur. It was like he’d just woken up from a restful sleep and taken a shot of something highly energizing. It was incredible.

Though he mistakenly thought that nothing had happened to him aside from the strange electricity running through his veins, he saw now that he was on a bluff looking down at the source of Zordon’s woes. Rita was sending beams of something out of her staff, mercilessly pounding Zordon’s headquarters, a beautiful building composed of three cylinders, the middle one being over three times as large as the two on either side of it. It was the same color and had the same design patterns as the box the robot had brought from the white doorway.

He looked to his right to see two people examining themselves in the exact same costume. One was in black and the other in yellow. The costumes were skin-tight, it seemed, with white diamonds encircling the chest and around their backs. They wore gloves and boots that had the same configuration, though the colors on these were inverted, white being predominant. A belt encircled their waists, with their morphers acting as a buckle. Hanging on the right hip of each of them were holsters carrying what looked like a gun. The helmets were different and, looking more closely, Jason saw that each seemed to be the head of an animal. If Zordon’s words were anything to go by—and they apparently were—then he was looking at Zack and Trini.

Turning to his left he found Billy in blue and Kim in pink. He himself, he discovered, was wearing red. He didn’t feel bogged down as if he were wearing a costume or helmet. He had free range of vision and movement.

“I guess this is it, guys.”

And then Zordon was giving them words of encouragement, his voice sounding just as clear as it had back in his command center.

Power Rangers, huh? Jason thought. Well, it works for me.

He sighed and then said, “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go save the world.”

“And how do you expect us to do that?” Zack said, loudly. “That’s about a hundred feet of air separating us from death. Let me know when you hit the ground if there really is a heaven.”

“Well,” Billy muttered, vainly trying to hide his enthusiasm, “this Zordon character mentioned we would have abilities beyond our own comprehension. Maybe that kind of jump isn’t impossible.”

“I don’t know about this, guys,” Kimberly muttered anxiously.

“Yeah, I mean, how do we know what the limit is to this supposed power?” Zack asked.

“Supposed power?” Trini said. “One second we’re standing in that weird place and now we’re on a cliff, watching a witch blow things up, and we’re dressed in colorful spandex…how do you account for that kind of thing?”

“I think the metamorphosis into, well, us should tell you we’re not being swindled,” Billy reasoned. “I don’t think he was lying to us. I mean, don’t you feel it?”

Zack fell silent, as did Kimberly.

“So…” Trini said.

“You’ll never know unless you try,” Jason said.

Without thinking, he flung himself from the edge of the cliff. The few milliseconds of free fall were exhilarating and yet he knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he was completely safe. He would survive this fall.

And survive he did. Jason landed impressively, almost lightly, in a crouch. He straightened, instantly noticing that he had caught the witch’s attention. She stopped bombarding the command center, a slow smile creeping onto her face as she turned to face him. The man that was standing near her, looking shocked as he was, nearly collapsed.

“Well, well,” she said, “Zordon chose to risk a few humans after all. He has chosen his Rangers.”

“Yeah, he did,” Jason said.

The others had followed him, one by one, jumping from the cliff to ground in quick succession.

“I think you’re outnumbered, lady,” Zack said. “Go home so I can get out of this ridiculous outfit.”

“Oh, but don’t you look handsome, MastoRanger,” Rita said seductively.

“You don’t stand a chance,” Jason said firmly. “Leave well enough alone. Don’t make us fight you.”

Rita waved the staff towards them. “A chance? I have more than a chance against you, Zyurangers.”

Jason barely caught a glimpse of the beams, which seemed to fly around in a quick but aimless fashion before finding their target, and then he was being thrust back in a shower of sparks and heat.

Rita was still talking, almost laughing, as Jason got back to his feet. “I have the upper hand, as you say.”

The unnamed companion was on his knees, heaving sporadically. Jason saw the gunk on the floor but quickly pushed it out of his mind.

“It’s obvious that guy is no friend of yours, witch, so let him go. He’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Neither do you, TyrannoRanger,” Rita replied. “In fact, this has nothing at all to do with any of you. This is between Zordon and myself. What makes you think that you have anything to do with my little feud?”

“How about the destruction of this world?” Trini asked. “That a good enough reason for you?”

“Such a wonderful devotion to this sad, pathetic ball,” Rita said nonchalantly. “You should be commended, rewarded, for your daring services to the planet. But alas, your sacrifices will not make you martyrs. You will not defeat me today nor any day. The world will never know you existed. Today you die quietly in the name of the Earth.”

A gesture of her hand and suddenly Jason found himself facing down a platoon of humanoids that looked strangely devoid of humanity. They were mostly a grey color with black stripes randomly scattered around their bodies. They had no eyes, only holes that led to nowhere, and for a face there was craggy semblance of nose and mouth. They looked as if they were made of stone or clay. Some had clubbed-like hands, others a menacing blade of some sort.

“Who the hell are these guys?” Zack said.

“Whoever they are, they’re ugly as sin,” Kimberly remarked, the fear Jason had heard earlier hadn’t vaporized but neither had it strengthened.

“I don’t think they want to be friends either,” Jason said.

A moment later, as they charged, Jason was proven correct. The first that reached him was one of the blade-hands. It sliced diagonally upward, in a motion that would have taken the blade from Jason’s waist all the way up to his shoulder. But Jason easily blocked the movement, kicking out with his right leg. Even through the incredible power that Jason now wielded, he could feel that the “skin” of these creatures was like solid rock.

Using the momentum, Jason twisted around, switching momentarily to a more brawl-like style, and swung his arm. The back of his fist slammed satisfactorily into its head, causing it to somersault sideways to the ground.

Jason suddenly realized it was the first time he’d ever used his teachings in a true fight. This was no spar fight with his grandfather or a pupil or a student. This was a real battle, with real enemies. Enemies whose goal it was to destroy him.

He had no time to revel in his epiphany as he was suddenly swarmed by two of the rock things. Both were club-handed and they came at him swinging wildly. Unsure of what to expect, Jason hung back, retreating a few steps so as measure up his opponents. The first had come at him with some appearance of control. These two new ones were just waving their arms around, blindly.

Bracing himself, Jason bent his knees and pushed off the ground, flipping in the air over the creatures. He landed behind them, not even bothering to hide the excitement of being able to do that from himself.

Jason wasted no time waiting for the two to recover from whatever surprise their stone-like heads were experiencing. Jason delivered two quick fists to their napes. They fell to the floor but were on their feet just as fast. This time they attacked him with coordination. Jason parried a couple of punches but he was stretched too thin. They didn’t try to trap in a pincer movement, preferring instead to stand side-by-side right in front of him. Jason was finding it difficult to move passed their doubled defenses.

Frustrated, Jason moved back a giant step. The creatures, caught off their guard, kept on punching. Grabbing an arm from each, Jason yanked towards himself, making the creatures trip forward. Now off balance, Jason took advantage of them both. A kick in the head to each and a few traded punches later, and the two were writhing on the floor.

Despite their gruesome and solid appearance, they had limits and it was reassuring to see it. Jason turned away from his fallen enemies to see Rita watching almost disinterestedly. The man who’d been with her had disappeared.

He started for her.

“Jason!”

Billy’s voice. Jason turned to see that two of the creatures had grabbed each of his arms and one of them, a club-hand, was punching him repeatedly.

“Hold on, Billy!” Jason called out. He took a running start and then vaulted the rest of the way to his friend. Jason’s feet connected with one of the arm-holders; pushing off in a back-flip, Jason double-kicked the one doing the punches, simultaneously stretching his arms out in front of him, his hands bunched up. His fists struck the face of the second holder.

Billy, now freed, gave him a nod. “Thanks, Jace. I have all this power and I don’t know how to use it properly.”

“Don’t worry about it, Billy.”

“It looks like the other Power Rangers aren’t having as tough a time of it as I,” Billy remarked, somewhat sadly.

Jason observed them for a moment, noticing Zack performing a few rhythmic moves before slamming one of his limbs into his opponent. The only way to describe Trini’s fight was graceful: whereas Zack used hip-hop dance to his advantage, Trini’s abilities resembled that of ballet, sweeping arms and arrow-straight legs. She was the poster-child for beauty in battle.

Kimberly was struggling. She was not as naturally skilled as Zack nor was she as well-trained as Trini. She preferred a style of fighting that utilized an open palm, akin to the way one pushed, and hit-and-runs. It wasn’t a surprise, as Kim was putting her experience as a gymnast to good use, jumping away like a bird when things got too hot for her to continue.

“Billy,” Jason said, “see if you can’t get some of these rock heads off Kim’s back. You don’t have to engage if you don’t want but at least give her some room to breathe.” Remembering something, he added, “Use the gun.”

Billy cocked his head. “What gun?”

Jason pointed at his hip. “That one.”

Billy pulled it out of the holster and examined it. “Where are you going?”

“The witch goes down,” Jason said.

Rita was standing exactly as she was before, her head unmoving. As Billy ran off to assist Kimberly, Jason began walking steadily towards her.

“Where is he?” he called out.

“Who?” Rita asked sweetly.

“The man who was with you?” Jason was closing the gap now. He drew his gun.

“Oh, the traitorous vermin,” Rita said. She remained a statue. “He received payment for his services to me: eternal rest.”

Jason didn’t break stride. He raised the gun, not knowing what would happen when he pressed the odd, button-like trigger. “Call off your rocks and leave. Or you can answer to whatever comes out of this gun.”

“My Golem Putties are not leaving anytime soon,” she replied, “and neither am I. I am afraid that you will have to fire on me.”

Jason had stopped five yards away. “This ends now.”

“For once we agree.”

Jason fired, his finger bouncing on the trigger several times before he realized he could no longer see Rita behind a dense cloud that had suddenly appeared. Jason allowed himself to believe, for just a moment, that the gun was more powerful than he’d expected and that he’d instantly vaporized the witch.

But when the smoke cleared, Rita was still standing, a smile as dark as the night on her beautiful face. Standing with her was a bi-pedal creature that had no equal in the entire world. Jason took in the golden armor that plated his entire gigantic, muscular frame; the incredibly baboon-like features of his blue face; the expansive black wings and the crown—which looked sacrilegiously like a halo—atop his head; and the bronze-colored sword that it held in its massive hand.

“You’re not the TyrannoRanger that defeated me long ago,” it growled out. “But my vengeance has no real limits. You’ll do in his place.”

“And you are?” Jason asked, swallowing. He lowered his gun. What the hell was he doing? Fighting intergalactic witches with odd weapons and scientifically-advanced powers? Was this really real?

What the hell was he doing fighting these two alone?

My job, a voice in his head said.

“My name is irrelevant,” it said, “for your life is about to come to an abrupt end.”

“I don’t think so, monkey-face,” Jason spat.

“Jason,” another voice said. But this one, Jason realized, was not from his mind. It was Zordon. “Use your Blade Blaster. It becomes a short-sword for close quarters battle.”

Jason looked down at the gun in his hand. “If you say so.” But Jason couldn’t for the life of him figure out how to convert it to anything near a blade. “Screw it.” Jason began firing at the golden monkey, the red beams merely bouncing off.

“Prepare to die, TyrannoRanger,” it said. Then, without an ounce of warning, it slashed at him. The sword connected painfully, sparks flying from him as he was thrown backwards. He hit the ground and rolled.

“Are you alright, Jace?” It was Billy. Blue and white gloved hands helped him up.

“I’m fine,” Jason replied, stunned. “That actually hurt. We’re not as invincible as I thought.”

“Yeah, well, this whole situation stinks,” Zack said, and Jason realized that he, Kim and Trini had also joined Billy. “Those rock guys just disappeared. Vanished. And how are we supposed to beat that? I mean, I watched you fire like a mofo into that bitch and she’s still standing!”

“Billy, Zordon said that these guns become swords or something,” Jason said. “You know how?”

After two moments looking at it, Billy struck his helmet with his hand. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before!” He spun the top of the blade around, connecting the piece of barrel that extended passed his hand to the end of the grip. With the movement snapped out a blade, hidden inside the barrel. “There it is!”

Jason quickly repeated the transformation. “All right, I’m going to take the big gold thing. You guys use your guns to fend off the witch.”

“Who made you boss?” Zack said.

“Not exactly the time for this, Zack,” Kim pleaded.

“Just do it, trust me,” Jason said. “All right, monkey-face, you want this? You want the Red Ranger? You got him.”

Jason ran forward, his blade held out in front of him. The golden monkey charged as well. His blade was longer, which could prove a problem, but it was one that Jason was willing to deal with in the moment. At the last moment, as they were about to meet, Jason’s opponent jumped into the air with a flap of wings, flipping over Jason.

Jason, too experienced not to fall for it, immediately struck upward with the blade, catching the thing as it flew over his head. When it landed, it was on the ground, an angry, pained roar escaping its fanged lips.

At about the same moment, the other Rangers began firing passed him. Rita was sending magical volleys their way with the same frequency, but it was not as effective with so many targets.

Before Jason could continue evaluating the situation, the gold thing was back on its feet. “Perhaps you are a being worthy of my ire. The power of the TyrannoRanger is not given to just anyone, after all. Goldar Grifforzor is pleased,” it said, bowing. “This will make defeating you so much tastier.”

“This power beat you once,” Jason said, indicating himself. “It’ll do it again. This time, I’m hoping to make it pretty permanent.”

“You would not be worthy if you did not try,” Goldar said, beginning to slowly circle, twirling his sword casually.

It was a trick. In fencing, the flourishes that an opponent made could be telling of two things: either the person didn’t know what they were doing, or they were masters who lured their prey like a fish to bait. The idea was for the twirling to catch Jason’s eye so that Goldar could surprise him with a punch or kick.

Jason knew his face couldn’t be seen under the helmet, even though it felt as if they were no helmet at all. He shifted his head to appear as if he were watching the graceful movements of the sword, but his eyes never stopped moving. Goldar may not have been human but he was hampered by the same laws of physics as everyone else. Jason would be able to tell what attack was coming simply by—

The fist came but it never reached its halfway point. Jason had moved to block it with his blade, when he felt the sword come down heavily on his shoulder. Collapsing onto one knee, stars wheeling in his vision, Jason forced himself to floor-somersault away from Goldar. He heard the sword clank down on the ground where he’d once been. Jason lost no time in performing a back flip to put him on level ground again.

Goldar’s sword preceded his turn to face Jason but it was easily dodged. As Goldar’s arm continued passed his head, Jason slashed at him vertically, catching him on the elbow. Before the witch’s ally could recover, Jason hit him twice more on his back.

Grunting in frustration, Goldar attacked with a vicious thrust. Jason couldn’t get out of the way fast enough. His blade was too small to parry the sword. As he felt the wind rush out of him, he realized he had been sent backward in motion. He landed, again, at the feet of his peers.

“You really think you can handle gold guy over there?” Zack said sarcastically. “All by your lonesome?”

“He’s a little tougher than I thought,” Jason wheezed.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Zack muttered, still firing on Rita and now Goldar as well.
Keep digging, Watson, he thought testily. Pushing Zack out of his mind, he struggled to his feet. “All right, we can do this, guys.”

“What makes you so sure, Jace?” Billy asked, wincing noticeably as one of Rita’s magic beams exploded near him. “According to my estimation, I don’t believe we will triumph today and accomplish the goals set forth by Zordon.”

“You don’t think we can win,” Zack said. “Great. If Brainy over here doesn’t think we can win, what makes you think we can?”

Jason converted his blade back into a blaster and began firing a steady stream at the approaching Goldar. “Because that Goldar guy mentioned that we could. He said the last Power Rangers put him away.”

“Well, we’re not exactly warriors, Jason,” Trini said, “we’re just kids.”

“The future’s ours,” Jason said. “I’ll fight for that.”

As soon as Goldar was close enough, Jason reverted the gun to blade and charged. It was a stupid thing to do. Goldar was obviously much stronger and much more experienced in the art of real battle. Jason may have been skilled, yes, but as it was his first time in a fight, he was too naïve a combatant to successful defeat a veteran.

But Jason had never known himself to give up. He wasn’t going to quit now that the stakes were higher than he could possibly have imagined. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for quitting now…now that it actually mattered.

The ensuing sword fight was unlike anything Jason had ever experienced. He did not, as he tended to do in a sparring match, think through each and every move he performed. Today, here, now…Jason merely acted and reacted. Goldar swung. He blocked. He swung. Goldar blocked. It was a sick children’s game that became a vicious, unending circle.

Finally, Jason saw his opening and he kicked out with as much force as possible. Goldar was on one knee now, holding his side where Jason had kicked him. “You have much skill and much passion, TyrannoRanger; but I wonder if you do not realize the situation you have put yourself in. I was planning on killing as quickly as possible. Call it mercy for not being the Ranger who hid me from this world for so long. But you have indeed proven yourself here today. When I kill you, it will be achingly slow. And you will regret your decision to accept that coin.”

“That sounds lovely,” Jason said, putting as much fierceness into as he could; he had no doubt Goldar could do it to him. “You’ll have to write that down and send it for publication. ‘Cause it sounds like it’ll make some good fiction.”

Goldar pointed his sword at Jason and from it erupted a ball of flame that struck Jason square in the chest. Again Jason was in the air, falling backward. You know, that’s getting kind of tiresome.

“Zordon!” he said as soon as he was back on his feet.

“I am here, Jason,” came that startlingly deep voice.

“Any way to get these goons to leave a little quicker? I’m thinking we’re outmatched.” He dodged one of Rita’s blasts, which seemed to be coming with less frequency.

“Your powers are not as limited as you believe,” Zordon assured, “and theirs are not as unlimited. Just as a battery can only have so much energy, so does magic take a toll on its user. Rita will be weakening, especially as she is not yet fully restored to her former power.”

“What are you saying?”

“Rita and Goldar will retreat as soon as they feel they can no longer win the battle,” Zordon said.

“Can we get there any faster?” Kimberly said.

“Yes, though it will tax your powers,” Zordon said. “If you use it and do not successfully force them to fall back or kill them completely, then you may not have enough power to finish the fight.”

“What is your estimate?” Billy asked.

Alpha’s voice suddenly filled Jason’s head. “There is a fifty percent chance of success, Rangers. This could be costly to you.”

Rita had stopped firing, probably because Goldar was in the way. Or maybe it was because she could no longer muster up the energy.

“Or it could give us the advantage we need,” Jason said. “The others haven’t been in hand-to-hand as long as I have. They should have more power than me. If this doesn’t work, we’ll make do.”

“For the record, I think whatever we’re about to do is a bad idea,” Zack said.

“Duly noted,” Trini said. “I’m in.”

Billy and Kimberly quickly assented and, a moment later, so did Zack.

“All right, Zordon, we’re ready to risk it,” Jason said. “What do we do?”

“Our original Rangers referred to it as a Babel attack,” Zordon said. “You must all place your Blade Blasters in a circle, each muzzle facing the center, and press and hold the trigger at the exact same moment. The energy released will travel away from you; however, it will travel in whatever direction is perpendicular to the blasters.”

“So how do we do something like that?” Zack said, still firing at Rita and Goldar. The Rangers had begun to move backward away from them so as to keep an open space between.

“The only way to do so in this situation is to form a pyramid.”

“You mean, like a cheerleading pyramid?” Zack asked, incredulous.

“Yeah, that would work,” Kim said, also keeping a steady stream of pink energy flying in Goldar’s direction. They had now reached the cliff they’d jumped down from. There was no where to go.

“Billy, Zack, next to me,” Jason said, not even stopping to think of its absurdity. “Ladies up top.” Jason squared his shoulders as Zack, grunting mutinously, took his left side and Billy took his right. Trini somersaulted into position on Jason and Zack’s shoulders and Kim leaped up to Billy and Jason’s other shoulder. Jason wasn’t surprised to find that the power he now had had taken care of weight and balance. He was barely aware that anyone was standing on him.

“All right, on my mark,” Jason said.

“I am not entirely comfortable with my current hand-eye coordination,” Billy said nervously.

“This could seriously backfire,” Kim commented. “I for one don’t want to deal with friendly fire.”

Goldar had stopped advancing and instead stood stock still. His body language suggested tension, as if he were preparing to run or fly away on those gargantuan wings. It wasn’t hard to see that he’d seen this formation before…and that he feared it.

“No time for second-guesses,” Trini said with a note of finality. “We have to do this.”

“Goldar there seems to think we shouldn’t,” Jason said wryly. “I say we disappoint him.”

“If I didn’t know better,” Zack breathed, “I’d say I agreed with you.”

“On my mark,” Jason said, his arm locked at ninety degrees so that the gun pointed directly towards the sky. The others completed the circle and Jason was surprised to see that it was nearly perfect. “Three…”

His finger tensed on the trigger.

“Two…”

Goldar shot a worried glance back at Rita, who simply stood where she was. Her face, however, betrayed her, as the concerned incredulity had already set itself in her features.

Jason exhaled a held breath. It was on him now.

“One…fire!”

He pressed and held the trigger as he’d been instructed. He half-expected to see Trini and Kimberly fall back in fright and get blasted himself by one of their shots for their trouble.

But instead, something incredibly happened. The red of his beam merged with the black of Zack’s, the blue of Billy’s, the pink of Kimberly’s and the yellow of Trini’s to become a multi-colored orb of brilliance, which rotated and crackled with energy. For a few moments, it merely hung there, allowing Jason to revel its deadly beauty.

Then Zordon’s voice once again permeated his head. It was quiet, soothing. “Now send it to them.”

Jason didn’t really understand how but he did the first thing that came to his mind, and it apparently came to the minds of his fellow warriors. In an oddly strange unison, the five Rangers straightened their free arms in front of them, as if in salute.

The ball, now brighter than ever, shot forward in compliance. Jason had a quick glimpse of Goldar turning and vainly taking off as well as Rita hold her staff in front of her as if to ward off the attack (which Jason didn’t doubt she was able to do), before everything in front of them exploded in a gigantic plume of dirt and rock.

Kimberly and Trini jumped down from the other Rangers’ shoulders.

Jason suddenly felt a decrease in the energy that had seemed to pump his heart. He felt more like a post-class Jason than the Red Ranger at the moment but he didn’t let the other Rangers see it.

Together they watched the cloud get blown slowly away by the desert wind. None of them had holstered their blasters, but only Zack held his up in the direction that Rita and Goldar had disappeared. Jason tried to bury his worry; it was so strong that he was sure that he was afraid the others could feel it too.

He paid no attention to the furious beating of his heart and focused only on the dissipating dust storm that they themselves had created.

And then…nothing. Rita and Goldar were no where to be found.

This did nothing to relieve Jason’s worry, though Billy fell to his knees with an exclaimed, “Phenomenal!”

“Zordon?” he said, all concern.

A beat. A millisecond that felt like forever. And then: “She has gone.”

“Whoo!” Zack hooted. “Take that, bitch! We the Power Rangers! We are hardcore, honey!”

Trini began laughing and Jason could just imagine the tears in her eyes. Kimberly was silent but he could tell by the way her shoulders slumped that she too was feeling all right.

Jason allowed himself a smile. But Zordon had said that she had gone, not that she was gone. This was only the beginning. There would be many more fights, more chances to triumph completely over Rita and her hordes of alien wierdos.

Jason felt guilty that it was exactly what he wanted.

[geno]

Good update. It would appear that all of them can actually work with each other, though it will take a bit to get smooth

[Splush]

You still updating this?

[BryanI305]

Yes, I am. It's just that I moved and have a very time-consuming job. I'm still at work on the next chapter. Stay tuned.