Temporary Username
09-05-2005, 02:33 PM
Power Rangers: Defense Squadron is my first attempt at a fanfic series. I'm attempting to tackle this project with an open mind, and hopefully it will be received in the same fashion. Any feedback is very openly appreciated.
Prologue
A raindrop splashed on a shoulder clad in black garment.
Mark Campbell looked skyward. He found it odd that the sky was so grey, for he hadn’t remembered it being as cloudy a few moments ago. Regardless, he shrugged it off and continued his walk to the homeless shelter.
As the rain intensified into a very light drizzle, turning the air into a fine mist, Mark began to slowly jog. While the rain didn’t bother him so much, he remembered that he was running late on his way to the shelter. He looked forward over the bridge. The bank’s neon clock read 4:39 P.M. Twenty-one minutes left, he thought.
The usual walk to the shelter usually leaves Mark in isolation and deep reflection as he passes his concrete-laden neighborhood. The time seems to go by slowly as he ponders the decisions he made thus far in his life. It’s not that he was disappointed in his life so much as he questioned whether or not it was better than the alternatives.
Since dropping out of high school halfway through his junior year, Mark riddled himself with the persistent bullying his peers gave him. The words echoed clearly in his angst-ridden mind.
“It’s not that we don’t want to invite you to the movies, Mark. We just know how hard it is for you to scrounge up eight bucks these days, you know, because you’re poor.”
“You want to go on a date with me? You, Mark Campbell, wish to ask me, the co-captain of the varsity cheerleading squad, on a date? In your dreams; get out of my sight.”
As the echoes from his childhood torture reverberated in his head, the echoes of the water rushing through the sewer systems pierced Mark’s eardrums as he passed over a manhole. The rushing water indicated that more rain was headed quickly. He began to run.
In order to free his mind of his inner demons, Mark looked around as he ran toward the bridge to the north side of town. He was currently in Memorial Park. Ironically titled, the park was mostly paved and turned into a parking lot for the Target that laid across the street. A fleet of various sport utility vehicles were escaping the parking lot, en route to shelter from the rain. Thunder flashed over the hills in the distance as taillights neared the horizon along the boulevard.
As he rounded the turn toward the bridge, he heard tires squealing from behind. Shortly afterward, he heard sirens headed in his direction. This town was known for having its fair share of crime, so he didn’t think anything of it. He continued his sprint toward the shelter that laid over the bridge.
All these observations distracted Mark from the fact that the light drizzle had turned into a torrential downpour.
Soaked to the bone, Mark started up the bridge on the narrow sidewalk that laid parallel to Maple Street. As he ran upward, he gazed at the bank clock again. 4:51 P.M. Before he could comprehend the math behind how much time he had left, he heard a very close car horn from behind. Startled, he turned around.
A few moments later, residents of the area claimed they saw a young man dressed in black jump over the bridge. A second or two after him followed a green Ford Ranger. Three police cars, sirens blazing, stopped just short of the resulting gaping hole in the guard rail.
Mark was pretty disoriented as he fell to the raging Schilling River below. As he fell, somehow he had spun around and was now facing the bridge. He managed to notice something fly out of the open passenger-side window of the Ranger. It wasn’t very large; it was about the size and shape of a cell phone, had a band around it, and seemed pretty solid. Mark wasn’t sure why a crimson glow emanated from the gold-and-black device. Somehow, moments before he made contact with the water, the device ended up in his left hand.
Observers claimed the boy in black splashed into the water, followed by the green truck. Shortly afterward, a red light pierced the surface of the water and seemed to envelop the whole truck.
Thrown to the edge of the river and shocked by the impact, Mark became unconscious as a pair of hands grabbed him under his shoulders and dragged him out onto shore. He was still clutching the golden device.
----
Prologue
A raindrop splashed on a shoulder clad in black garment.
Mark Campbell looked skyward. He found it odd that the sky was so grey, for he hadn’t remembered it being as cloudy a few moments ago. Regardless, he shrugged it off and continued his walk to the homeless shelter.
As the rain intensified into a very light drizzle, turning the air into a fine mist, Mark began to slowly jog. While the rain didn’t bother him so much, he remembered that he was running late on his way to the shelter. He looked forward over the bridge. The bank’s neon clock read 4:39 P.M. Twenty-one minutes left, he thought.
The usual walk to the shelter usually leaves Mark in isolation and deep reflection as he passes his concrete-laden neighborhood. The time seems to go by slowly as he ponders the decisions he made thus far in his life. It’s not that he was disappointed in his life so much as he questioned whether or not it was better than the alternatives.
Since dropping out of high school halfway through his junior year, Mark riddled himself with the persistent bullying his peers gave him. The words echoed clearly in his angst-ridden mind.
“It’s not that we don’t want to invite you to the movies, Mark. We just know how hard it is for you to scrounge up eight bucks these days, you know, because you’re poor.”
“You want to go on a date with me? You, Mark Campbell, wish to ask me, the co-captain of the varsity cheerleading squad, on a date? In your dreams; get out of my sight.”
As the echoes from his childhood torture reverberated in his head, the echoes of the water rushing through the sewer systems pierced Mark’s eardrums as he passed over a manhole. The rushing water indicated that more rain was headed quickly. He began to run.
In order to free his mind of his inner demons, Mark looked around as he ran toward the bridge to the north side of town. He was currently in Memorial Park. Ironically titled, the park was mostly paved and turned into a parking lot for the Target that laid across the street. A fleet of various sport utility vehicles were escaping the parking lot, en route to shelter from the rain. Thunder flashed over the hills in the distance as taillights neared the horizon along the boulevard.
As he rounded the turn toward the bridge, he heard tires squealing from behind. Shortly afterward, he heard sirens headed in his direction. This town was known for having its fair share of crime, so he didn’t think anything of it. He continued his sprint toward the shelter that laid over the bridge.
All these observations distracted Mark from the fact that the light drizzle had turned into a torrential downpour.
Soaked to the bone, Mark started up the bridge on the narrow sidewalk that laid parallel to Maple Street. As he ran upward, he gazed at the bank clock again. 4:51 P.M. Before he could comprehend the math behind how much time he had left, he heard a very close car horn from behind. Startled, he turned around.
A few moments later, residents of the area claimed they saw a young man dressed in black jump over the bridge. A second or two after him followed a green Ford Ranger. Three police cars, sirens blazing, stopped just short of the resulting gaping hole in the guard rail.
Mark was pretty disoriented as he fell to the raging Schilling River below. As he fell, somehow he had spun around and was now facing the bridge. He managed to notice something fly out of the open passenger-side window of the Ranger. It wasn’t very large; it was about the size and shape of a cell phone, had a band around it, and seemed pretty solid. Mark wasn’t sure why a crimson glow emanated from the gold-and-black device. Somehow, moments before he made contact with the water, the device ended up in his left hand.
Observers claimed the boy in black splashed into the water, followed by the green truck. Shortly afterward, a red light pierced the surface of the water and seemed to envelop the whole truck.
Thrown to the edge of the river and shocked by the impact, Mark became unconscious as a pair of hands grabbed him under his shoulders and dragged him out onto shore. He was still clutching the golden device.
----