"The fear of purpose is the failure of such, the deprivation of dreams realized. At some point in life, one questions the world we inhabit and the people who we cherish, or the ones who corrupt it. Within us is the potential for good, the potential for great power and miraculous makings. It is our fears that make us question, and it's the lack of validation that makes us fear. Unrestricted and misguided, they can tear the fruits of our being and justify crossing unimaginable lines. But, with the embracing the lessons provided by history, by loved ones and by personal experience, there is hope that the immortal spirit can prevail. We can bring goodness to those around us, not because it's written in stone, but because it's the obligation within ourselves to see a better tomorrow. And for the most sound among us, this obligation turns into a genuine love for fellow man. All we must do is make the choice of what fears will control us, and what fears will guide us." -William Cranston from "Philosophical Phenomenon," 2004 There was one who existed corrupted by bloodline, but fueled by the threat of extinction. His only intention was to live to see the next day before the corrupted of the universe crossed a line of no return. But that time was drawing near, and the perpretrayers would not cease. The warning had been there for millenniums, signaling from the distant planet of Eltar. But even the leaders of the enemy would not heed to this. And now the consequences would soon be realized. It was genocide. Either his race or theirs. There would be no alliance or resolution, for time had grown too weak and weary waiting for it. These enemies knew not the fear of such insolence. Because of this lasting ignorance, a darkness was forging. The plan was already in motion. Their souls would be smoldered. He read them all; the souls of the enemy. Bare and analyzed, they were interpreted as beings who sought justice, but only the justice they had been taught. His presence in their atmosphere and core beings sent sensations that coursed the veins of the bravest, and disturbed the minds of fighting spirits. They were heroes in their day, these warriors called Rangers. Each had a distinct memory that solidified their generation's legacy on their planet. Though they were from a rich variety of cultures and possessing contrasting gifts, the Rangers had stepped into the line of scrimmage when hope was void. They stepped forward as the odds were horrendously against them against those who were truly corrupt. Now they would have to do it one last time against him. Against the immortal called Unagi. 1 There was city that came to pass in a series of these damnable visions. Its very soil was derived of the dust and bones of the world's greatest warriors from all timelines, giving strength of implausible measure to the ruler of such land. One city to ignite war's fire. A kingdom of the heavens with an empty throne quenching to be united with the ones called by destiny. The land of the warriors heeded a commendable leader of exemperlarly skill. One ruler over the universe's most magnificent city. A city to unite the millenniums. 2 Table of Contents Scene One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Title Diagnosis The Good Doctor The Quest for Rootcore Into the Fire Pity and Mercer Flight 536 The Last Stand Old London A Lord's Ransom Shatter Page 4 10 18 22 25 28 32 36 40 44 3 Part One Gods among Men One - Diagnosis As Dr. Tommy Oliver sat in the waiting room of Mariner Bay Hospital, he had nothing but time to relive memories and ponder a bleak future. Reality - or fragments of it - was restored to his mind. The vision was over. They were striking him weekly now and with every vision, an ever-stronger nausea robbed his ability to function in the everyday civilian world. Rarely did they hold meaning; most were random images of forgotten friends or current events sequenced as orderly as a dream. His accomplishments against beings with crude intentions, his failures from old days, and the day the love of his life wrote a letter saying she had met someone else. It was never in Tommy to hold a grudge against her, but carrying the world's weight on his shoulders was a common practice for him. So what happened after the climactic finale when the explosions died down and the raging winds calmed to a breeze, what's to follow? What direction was there to go when you're already at that top ledge; having done everything in the game once and again? Tommy had struggled with this since his last Ranger battle in the previous year. He had hoped that a simple life as a school teacher would settle his nerves, and for a while, it worked. But his very blood was conflicted. The blood that coursed his veins was that of a fighter. It was someone who had learned to survive using hand-to-hand combat. It conquered his greatest insecurities and allowed him to rise to a role of leadership he had never known. As life turned out, his greatest strength was masking the one fear that no power or ability could compete against - the fear of having no purpose. So here he was, looking down at the world from a deserved throne, observing all those people wondering around down there and desperately wanting to trade places. But why should they aspire to his heights when he's yet to figure out the man he was to become? The hallucinations had been so frequent and real that waking from them was now a smooth affair. The teenager seated two chairs away didn't even notice that Tommy had just had one It was a stark contrast from three months ago when Tommy slipped into violent convulsions. The fear of death embraced him for the first time in years. He hadn't felt this way since first moving to Angel Grove. It wasn't supposed to be. Not after Stone Canyon. 4 Dr. Tommy Oliver. His life had been so random since his fighting days in the city of Angel Grove; since meeting friends with whom he'd learn to trust his life and let go all inhibitions for the first time. During the times where the instability peaked, he was lucky enough to have shoulders to lean on and mentors to guide him. He hoped that after his duties in Angel Grove were done, his hobbies would lead him down a very different path of fulfillment. Racing cars with his uncle earned him the money needed to pursue a degree in paleontology at Turtlecove University. For awhile, it did seem as if the road ahead was paved. The past was hesitant to leave him behind. This time, it was Reefside, California. His experience in Angel Grove allowed him to mentor a new generation of fighters against yet more villains who saw no vision but their own. He was back in his old ways, leading a life ruled by random events. It was difficult for him not falling into old patterns of OCD. Present day, Tommy almost wished for those days again. There's a higher self he felt concealed. And to date, what has all of his unique experiences made him into? An archive specialist, documenting and maintaining histories of his people? A communications consultant? It didn't fit his desire to be part of the difference. He had been fighting to make differences ever since his youth. It's a battle that still wages forth. The convulsions began after his retirement in Reefside. His body changed. His mind- something infected him. His world turned into prison with no keys. He was no medical expert, and he was the first to admit it, but an ally of his was. The doctor here was a fighter not unlike himself at one point. She had her share of memories like anyone else in the game. Like him, her warrior days were in the past. Her purpose had been redefined and laid out in a way Tommy could only dream about; sometimes, he felt impending doom tapping his shoulders, only to turn around and see nothing. When being brutally honest with himself, there was no telling how much longer he could live like this. The worrying, the readjustments and the paranoia- he was terrified. The hospital itself didn't faze him much anymore. A bruise or two was routine when playing cops and robbers with creatures from across the galaxy. He was close to meeting his grave a time or two. There was no reason to feel like a victim. Knowing that he had no control over it stuck him the most. Tommy opened a hardback book lying over his lap. The cover was navy blue, bearing the title "Philosophical Phenomenon." He purchased it from the gift shop on his way up, finding it on a shelf with other bestsellers from the same author, William Cranston. It was the latest addition to the popular Fate and Randomness series. 5 "Perspective," the next passage on page two stated, "it's our personal view of the world, and our guideline by which we live day after day." Continued on page three, "There are many perspectives in this world; some work together if we're lucky, but most likely they're designed to collide. Sometimes that collision results in extreme outcomes. Both sides believe by right that theirs is the one that is just and true, that it needs to prevail in order for true harmony. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the nature of good and evil - a balance. One that is crucial not only to our personal development, but also for the preservation of life as we know it. Emily Dickinson believed that without tragedy, we could not have true joy. If only she knew how right she was on such a large scale." Here was the chapter that made this book the best of his series and a determinate competitor amongst the top selling books of all time. Cranston took a leap so profound, that the reader would have to be reminded that this book wasn't fiction. Cranston told stories of himself, of his friends. Of times that shaped the author that millions of people knew. Since 1993, millions of dollars went towards Californian cities that were leveled. Video footage was sabotaged. Multitudes of eye witnesses were bribed or brainwashed into thinking that events they saw never happened. Organizations existed to cover up overwhelming evidence. Cranston was on the verge of exposing them with one more book. That was, before he disappeared. "Now, if they're, in fact, real," the following page read, "the inquisitive mind must ask how the feats they perform are within the realm of possibility. These monsters can destroy a building or a warehouse in seconds. A hero can stop them with an arsenal equal to a third world country. If you're willing to step out of your safety zone and into logic and reasoning contrasting your own, then let me guide you to the answer." "So you're into that?" spoke a boy in his late teens, sitting to the right. The reader answered with a simple, "Yeah." His gaze remained glued to the book. A sarcastic chuckle came from the teen. "Still living your childhood, I take it." There was no response. "Know what I don't get? The fascination with these guys. People would rather follow their stories than live their own lives. People like that don't want a life." He shook his head while opening a fresh Mountain Dew in his grip. The teen threw back his head and took a large drink. "Strong words for someone who's skipping class," the man retorted. He promptly choked on his drink and was desperately catching his breath, "Oh sh-" 6 "Watch it. This is a kid-friendly environment," he warned. The student then noticed the kids on the other side of the room. "Oh. Wh- wait, how did you know-" The blue book then rested on the lap of the reader, who was then recognized as Dr. O. "You're in my class, Casey," Tommy said with a laughing scoff. "Dr. Oliver?" "And thanks, but I stopped playing with toy dinosaurs years ago." He turned the page. Tommy was sporting his old brown leather jacket from High School and his reading glasses from college. His short black hair was rather messy, and the brown eyes that Kimberly once loved were bloodshot. "Um, yeah, well you've done something with your life. I somehow doubt it revolved around superheroes." He wiped the pop off his mouth. "I had my share. So how's the treatment going?" "Um, they just got the results in Tuesday. Doesn't look good. Not for a good while anyways." "I hear the doctor is one the best. I'd trust her with anything." Casey looked to the ground, like he truly wanted to believe those words. "So what are you in for?" "Well," Tommy laid the book on the magazine stand beside him and removed his glasses. "It's not exactly the flu. I'm hoping she can help find what it is. On the plus side, you may have a substitute for a while." "Great. Dr. Mercer hands out homework like Halloween candy." Tommy chuckled. If only he knew Mercer's bad side. It wasn't until then that that he took notice to the water fountain next to the receptionist station. His attention was captured because of the man next to it, maintenancing it rather. He was of African descent and bald as an eagle sporting a green jumpsuit. Damon Henderson. With a wrench in one hand and grease of some sort on his forehead, he was impossible to miss. "Mr. Henderson," Tommy smiled at this chance encounter. It was a distraction he desperately welcomed. 7 Damon cocked a half smile at the call once recognizing the voice. "Well if it isn't Mr. Universe himself?" He gathered a few scattered tools and headed over to the vacant seat next to Tommy. "By the way, you can only call me that if you decide pink spandex is in fashion. And if you do, I could make some calls for you." Tommy always enjoyed a little ribbing with Damon. For one, Damon had the sense of humor that could take it and dish it back. Secondly, Damon was once a Green Ranger like himself. Tommy secretly held his green successors to a certain standard. Damon's adventures as a Ranger differed from Tommy's in the sense that they were more intergalactically-based, which gave him a sort of immunity towards harsher criticisms. The ribbing was a way to make up for it. "If you start fantasizing me in pink spandex, that might explain why Kimberly left you." As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Damon knew he'd cut a little deep. It certainly wasn't his intention, but then again he hadn't anticipated running into the only man he knew who could take it. "Ah, sorry man." "Don't worry about it." It honestly didn't faze Tommy as much as it probably should have. "So I gather maintaining the functionality of Earth's greatest Ranger hospital has you busy these days?" Damon laughed at the understatement. "Well it's certainly not a space colony, but thanks to people like Leo and Wes, things never get too dull." Growing up, Damon was the kid who pissed off his parents by taking things apart and reassembling them. Well, halfway reassembling them. He was an engineer by heart and earned the title of the black "Mr. Clean" in High School because he always cleaned up any kind of mechanical mess there was. His reputations grew and with good cause. The principal of Angel Grove High School, the almost-intimidating James Kaplan - who was secretly bald himself - had connections with a man, one Captain William Mitchell, who had connections with a commander in charge of overseeing the construction of the long-anticipated space colony dubbed "Terra Venture." America was experiencing a refreshing time of peace in which the final phases of the colony's construction was allowed to commence. And if a colony were to support thousands of selected citizens to carry them across the boundaries of outer space, then the finest team of engineers would have to be assembled And Damon, who was already perusing an engineering degree from a community college, came with high recommendations. Commander Stanton of Terra Venture allowed him to quickly climb the ranks to head engineer, making him an authority on what goes, and gradually feeding his natural ego. The mission succeeded in late 1999 thanks to his intuitive genius and the teachings he passed to his crew. Though there were some bumps along the way that he'd sooner forget than relive. Nonetheless, this was as much in his blood as combat was to Tommy's. Thusly he returned to Earth and decided to make his purpose more valuable 8 so that he could still help others. Now Damon holds a few positions at Mariner Bay Hospital being an understudy to its chief doctor, and doing light maintenance on the side. And the hospital itself had gained a national reputation of servicing military personnel and officials, and even those of the Ranger variety; partly because Mariner Bay never kept the identities of its Rangers a secret. "It so happened that Wes and Leo held their own motorcycle race last week." Damon shook his head. "The fools have had their little debates in the past about whose cycle could do what, or something stupid like that. You know them. Needless to say, the only winners were the owners of the store that they crashed into. The insurance claim made the store owner very wealthy." "I'm personally proud they both wore helmets. You know, it's a shame we can't patch up things like the Morphing Grid as easily as we can bones." "The Grid? What about it?" He grinned to himself hoping to have a solid answer by this point. It had been several months now since it arose. "Ah, nothing to be excited over, just some abnormalities that shouldn't be there." The door next to the secretary opened up. A mid-twenties woman in a white coat and pulled-back blonde hair stood by it, checking her chart. "Tommy Oliver?" "Right here, Dr. Mitchell." After a smiling nod, Tommy looked back to Casey, who was buried in a celebrity gossip magazine. Though he did look over when Tommy started to rise up. "Don't give up now. Superheroes aren't the only ones with power." 9 Two- The Good Doctor Tommy sat down on the papered cot. The room itself was a standard closed off hospital room with only a few key exceptions. Several medical degrees decorated the pink front wall next to the door. They had been strategically placed there to remind the patient that, as he sat there waiting for the good doctor, his life was certainly in gracious hands should things ever turn for the worst. The degrees all fell under one name- Dr. Dana Mitchell. Dana was rather privileged growing up in that she had strong ambitions to help others, and in that she had a father with connections to practically every private school and funding imaginable inside the United States. By the time she was in Junior High School, Dana was being lectured by top physicians and tutors who were sometimes flown in from across the world. Three times a week she'd have to generate essays explaining cultural comparison studies with the evolutions in advanced medicine and equipment from, say the Colonial America to the Renaissance era. She once took a rather memorable field trip to a European desert in July. The goal was to stage a war-like setting in which she was the emergency paramedic treating wounded soldiers. To make the effect realistic, her father funded the expense to set up real tents and medical equipment, and even real life explosives and gunfire to simulate randomness under extreme pressure. Each wounded soldier, a dummy with distinct injuries, brought into the tent had a very precise injury that required quick thinking and resourceful hands. Many times there was the necessity for amputation to prevent the spread of a disease. Dana didn't much care for the fact that she wasn't fed for the three day field trip in the desert, but other than that she took from it several lasting moral lessons. And it was the jump start she needed to align her ability to focus under emergency situations. Little did she realize that dear old dad was grooming her for more than being a world-renowned doctor. It wasn't until the year 2000 that she learned the truth in its entirety. This was one of the many biographical records Tommy had stored away back home in Reefside.. The door suddenly opened to reveal the good doctor. In her hands was the clipboard with Tommy's latest test results. But also there was a white rose that was neatly nestled within green wrapping. "Sorry about the wait. Casey wanted to give me a token of his appreciation. It's been a year today since he first came to this hospital." She said it with a remorseful smile and proceeded to lay them next to the small sink. "He's a good kid, you know? Maybe a little unfocused still." "And judging from the price tag that's still on there, apparently he has the hots for doctor." Tommy nodded towards the tag that retailed at $20. He noticed Dana embarrassingly blush a little. "Well either the rose contains the fountain of youth, or Casey was scammed by that troll-like vender downtown." 10 "Seeing how we found the Fountain of Youth on another planet years back, I'll go with option B." Tommy wiggled feet as he sat on the bed. As a kid, his parents took him to the doctor's office almost on a weekly basis for shots. Sometimes it was for allergies, others were for his genetically weak immune system. But he remembered how much of a thrill he got from wiggling his legs all the way up from the ground. Presently, his feet were merely suspended a foot off the ground at most. Still, it served the purpose of briefly distracting his mind. Dr. Dana Mitchell closed the door behind her. "Leukemia's not easy to deal with. Some of my patients aren't lucky enough to have role models like you." Tommy silently laughed. He was able to scrounge up a bit of humor from it because the Tommy Oliver who grew up in Stone Canyon, California was nothing short of a scared infant. He was socially crippled until the age of twelve. "Comes with practice. How's your father doing?" "Father's been busy at the new Lightspeed Corp." Truth be told, he was obsessed with it. He was now in the business of weapons manufacturing and development that could be sold and distributed to branches nationwide. From machine guns to rechargeable laser beams to engines for fighter jets, Captain William Mitchell had found his new calling in life. And it was in the name under his former company, Lightspeed, which housed the development of a task force designed to save the city of Mariner Bay from potential disaster. This task force of Rangers was the very project in which Mitchell revealed to his daughter in the year 2000. "But I don't think he ever appreciated you tapping into his military surveillance systems. I had to convince him that you had to keep up with the times." "Well, you kinda have to in our business." Tommy had archives ranging from sleeping patterns to academic achievements to estimated shower times, though he was reluctant to ever share the latter piece of information in fear of its purpose being misinterpreted. Though it occasionally revealed very intimate shower secrets with the subjects. Tommy took note of Lightspeed emblem plaqued to the side walls, another of the distinct features of the room. The emblem was simplistic in its meaning yet vivid to its purpose. As an emergency medical technician, Dana's symbol was equivalent to the badge of a police officer. It's the medical symbol one would find on an ambulance door, an insignia with six rectangular points. The inner area was blue with gold trimming, which distinguished two sets of three points. To Dana, it was the embodiment of the word "rescue," which she did as both a Ranger and a paramedic. To Tommy, it was one of many emblems that his surveillance systems kept a close eye on when monitoring past and present Ranger activity. 11 "Open." Dana quickly took his temperature. As she checked his pulse, Tommy's hand tremored slightly. "No progression?" she asked, removing the little stick and disposing of it. "You seem better off than the last visit." He looked dead into her eyes. "Oh it's progressed. Just not in the way we hoped." She sighed under her breath. This was an embarrassment of her abilities, she thought. Of all the impossible things to diagnose in the world, an illness related to a Ranger past should be resolved before a snap of the finger. The answer had to be starring at her. "Tommy, how long has it been since your body demonstrated any abilities?" "Nearly a year now." He intently failed to mention his brief encounter with the task force that had come to the past from the year 2025 and fought beside him against the merciless Emperor Gruumm. They were the Power Rangers of S.P.D, an intergalactic police task force grounded in monitoring Earth's acceptance of alien races living in the world. When Gruumm was defeated, the Commander of the SPD team wiped out the memories from all the Rangers regarding the encounter so that there'd be no further altercations of the future. Tommy, on the other hand, had predicted such an outcome. At the time that the commander was erasing the memories, Tommy held in his hand a prism that Billy Cranston, an original team member, had once used to restore conscious awareness of the past. With this in hand, Tommy easily walked away with full memory of the encounter. It was another burden of being an archive specialist for the Rangers. For he could tell no one of the information he possessed, and he himself had to use it wisely if ever needed. The consequences, otherwise, would be unfathomable to imagine. Wow, he missed his teammates. As he did whenever he departed from the task force. "Thing is, my body has gone through longer periods of withdrawal than this, and it's never had these kinds of ramifications before. Am I just getting too old? Because I swear I found a grey hair just the other day." Tommy started to playfully part his hair in random places for Dana to see. She laughed a little. "Well, I don't think old age is the culprit to tend with for the moment. But what concerns me is the growing decrease of white blood cells and an immune system that's seen better days." "See, normal people would get colds or sneezing spells at this point. But I had to top that with hallucinations that knock me out." Some of the day terrors that had been surfacing more recently had become frightening realistic to Tommy. They were stunted fragments of a broken dream trying to arrange itself with dismal failure. He imagined the "dream gods" were getting ticked at him for not figuring this out already. 12 "Tommy, I don't know how to say this without sugar coating it, but-" "Try a sugar-coated version first. I like the sugar-coated." Tommy did all by ask "pwetty pwease" to gain the request. He was still wiggling his legs back and forth. She acknowledged his efforts with a smile. "Well, let's put it this way. You like apples, Tommy?" "I do." "Good. Well, apples can be very good and good towards the people who care for them. And in most cases, the look of the apple entices the customer to choose that piece of fruit in the produce section because they assume it'll taste good. They theorize what the inside is like based on what the outside is like. Follow so far?" "Oh, none whatsoever, but the effort is duly appreciated." He smiled like a ten year old jackass. "Sometimes, however, if people don't look close enough, they don't notice that there's something seriously wrong with the apple. Something that's been spoiling the once bountiful goodness into a potentionally rotten mess." Tommy finally gave up on the child routine. "So what was it the results found, Dana?" The constant kicking then ceased. "Well, our medical archives lack the appropriate case histories for illness related to the Morphing Grid." As soon as she finished that sentence, she waited for the awkward pause that was surely to follow. "Wait..." Tommy sometimes wasn't the quickest on the draw, but this was something that seemed to click immediately. "My powers are responsible for this?" "Not necessarily the cause for the original problem, but certainly an accompliance." Dana was rustling through several pages of notations. "I'm not sure that I'm following you here." If history was Tommy's forte in the Rangerhood, then medicine was Dana's. Her advice would be the only one's with validity at this point. "Tommy..." she gave up trying to find the right pages and set the clipboard down. Dana gently crouched down and took Tommy's hand. She then knew that she had his full attention. After a long breath, she continued. "There's been a brain tumor growing on the left side of the cerebrum for some time now." She waited, hoping, for some kind of response. But instead there was silence. A long, unforgiving silence. 13 Tommy looked at her, lost in the shuffle of events. It was in that brief second of limbo that the securities he was fastened in crashed with one unjust swipe. A tumor? Was there a possibility this was real? Was this real for him? What the hell had just happened here? Suddenly his very mortality was in question. How could that be? "Dana," just the look on his face made Dana squeeze his hand harder. "How is that even possible?" "Going by everything from the EEG to the X-rays, it's been possible for some time. I didn't understand it at first either. Then I did some research into the Grid. This is what I found." She handed him a folder with the tab marked in dark blue. Tommy took it hesitantly and opened the flap. Inside was a profile of what seemed like a normal civilian. He was a white male who looked to be in his early twenties with a strong jawline and somewhat spiked brown hair. The young man sported a red and black leather jacket with the Lightspeed medical insignia on the shoulder patch. Tommy recognized him immediately as Ryan Mitchell, Dana's older brother. "That was Ryan shortly after visiting Silver Hills, California in 2001. And this..." Dana flipped through some of the papers inside the folder until coming across a photograph marked October 6, 2005. "This..." she was choking on tears that she was desperately trying to mask. Tommy looked at the photo and once again found himself speechless. It was a heap of bones inside a bag of flesh. Ryan's body looked as if it had starved itself to death. The stomach was sunken in and the rib cage was in full sight. And if there were any muscles surrounding the bones of the leg, then they weren't visible from Tommy's point of view. "My god," he gawked in disbelief. For God's sake, this was once the Titanium Ranger, he thought. He was veral and formidable with the body of an athlete. Could the Titanium Powers have done this to him? The Titanium Morpher was an experimental transformation device worn on the wrist of the owner, and was manufactured under the supervision of Ms. Angela Fairweather, the head technician of Lightspeed at the time. Its power was exponentially more substantial than that of the Lightspeed Rangers, including Dana's. So only an exceptionally strong body could handle the physical strain induced by the device. There were many volunteers, including the leader of the Lightspeed Rangers. They all failed in being able to handle the power. Then there was Ryan, poor Ryan. Abducted as a child, he was held captive by a supernatural entity named Diabolico. As the years passed, Ryan was conditioned in the ways of an ancient demonic race. Ryan's will to live proved unfathomably concrete as he survived in the toxic atmosphere of the demon realm. Their ultimate plan for Ryan was to make him an heir. 14 On his twentieth birthday, Ryan Mitchell was returned to the Earthen realm to capture Fairweather's technology. As the Titanium Ranger, Ryan's primary objective was to kill his father and Dana for abandonment as a child, then destroy Lightspeed, the organization which originally waged war against the demons. The demons' plan failed when Ryan learned the truth, but the last laugh was on them. His prolonged exposure in the demon realm had permanently affected his physiology. It began a de-evolution over the years and the progression of it was becoming frighteningly more obvious as his muscle mass vanished. Dana explained this to Tommy, who still felt like he was hit against a brick wall. How could this have been overlooked? Tommy had top security clearance to the most updated NASADA satellites in creation, and had inter-galactic agents like Andros, leader of another Ranger task force, maintaining the revisal of archives for everyone associated with the Morphing Grid. Dana's brave face was loosing her. "My brother's powers did a great deal of good to protect Mariner Bay. But incidentally they were covering up the fact that he was suffering from the early stages of a fatal disease caused by the demon realm. Had we caught it in those stages, there might have been a change of stopping it. There might have been. And now I'm afraid it's the same with you." Tommy released her hand and stood, starring passed her compassionate gesture. "How was this kept from me?" He felt blood began to boil. "What nerve does your father or anyone else have sealing away this information when his own blood is dying from it?" In a swift motion, he grabbed the chart violently from Dana, and, with any sudden energy he could summon, he smashed it against the wall. The clipboard broke in two. Papers and charts flew all around, including the photos of young Ryan in his physically nightmarish state. The photo starred holes through Tommy. His hard breath slowing, he remained captivated by the revelation. Tommy's bloodshot eyes stung from reluctant tears. "This is everything we fought to prevent, Dana. Your father, our teammates, our allies...how could-" In the midst of his rage, Tommy looked back to see Dana drenched in tears. Her body was supported by a wall with her eyes closed towards the ceiling. This was her brother. A sibling who was thought to have been lost to the Mitchell family for a decade. He'd risen from the ashes and reclaimed his humanity, all to have it ripped away like this. Like this. What the hell was Tommy thinking? Had William Mitchell known ahead of time that all his technology would have been void against this disease, he would have sought help. This latest progression had to be recent. Tommy left the mess he made to walked over to Dana, embracing her tightly. Her sobs remained hidden no more. This wasn't some maniac trying to obliterate the human race, this was the humanity of one being. A beloved brother. 15 "He held on so bravely, Tommy." She starred at the photos over Tommy's shoulders while still in the embrace, the tears streamed down her neck. "It wasn't supposed to be like this." Dana had referred to Ryan in the past tense. Tommy had a sensational feeling of despair rip through his gut. Had the Titanium Ranger paid the ultimate price? His senses couldn't find anything to debunk it. He broke from her body and wiped the tears that claimed her. Her eyes looked into his, and Tommy saw the vulnerability that he displayed as a child. This was something that had to be rectified. And God help him, he'd exhaust all his resources to see it through. The thought that scared him now was what if the Morphing Grid was affecting others similarly? Ryan's fate was sealed by the demon realm, not the Grid. But if the Grid had become infected in some way whether rooted by Diabolico's intervention or elsewhere, it would place everyone connected to it at risk. Tommy had formerly known no entity with such an ability or dastardly mind. Even if Diabolico had the fortuity to possess such ability, his intentions had primarily been with detonating Mariner Bay to restore his ancient homeland. And besides, only two beings in the universe had any say-so over the vitality of the Grid, and any kind of distortion would have been immediately detected and dealt with. "Tommy, I'm afraid. Ryan's condition was one thing, but now this with you...have you taken notice of the unusually high abnormalities in the Grid over the last few months?" "Yes, but neither myself nor Andros had been able to locate the source of the distortions. Do you have any theories, Dana?" She was starting to slowly regain her focus the more she thought of the issue. "I'm afraid Lightspeed Corp has been equally unsuccessful. But the chain reaction is still in motion. Powers are fluxuating world-wide. Even the energy in my Morpher is waning. And if our defenses keep up like this, then the next madman with mystic abilities will have pickings of anything he wanted." Tommy could taste the desperation in her voice. She was waiting for some kind of reassurance, some kind of contingency plan should the Morphing Grid ever fail. But in all honesty, it was negligence on his part that he now had to come to terms with. There was a very real chance that everything could be lost. He offered her no explanation. "But I don't think that this flux is at all associated with the tumor. Though it seems now that they inadvertently augmented the acceleration of the process once they were gone." 16 "We'll worry about later. Right now, we've to destroy whatever is causing the Grid to-" "Tommy, after all that's happened with my brother, I'd rather risk losing the Morphing Grid than losing you. Our armies need their leader." He didn't know how to respond. It took him three hours to find his keys this morning and he was suffering from intense dizziness as well, and he was supposed to glue the fabric of the strongest army on Earth? He didn't know how to comfort her. But if word had ever gotten out that Tommy Oliver had fallen, then the masters of evil from past and present would surly gather before the Rangers could get their heads straight. "What do we need to do?" "In your duration of active duty, you've had six energy sources straining your body over the last thirteen years. Your physiology has been altered to where conventional treatment no longer applies. Surgically removing the tumor may work, but there's no way to predict the success rate. My research indicates a ninety percent chance of failure at this point. Have you considered alternatives?" "I could go to New York and see how Master Splinter stays so healthy living in sewage systems?" He wouldn't have thought it possible, but he managed to get Dana to crack a smile after all of this. "On second thought, Dustin Brooks is the comic expert. I'm sure he already knows the answer." "As much as we'd enjoy him trying to seriously answer that, I was thinking more unconventional methods." There were a couple of sources that Tommy knew of regarding the mystic arts of healing. "You know what? Briarwood isn't all that far from here." 17 Three- The Quest for Rootcore Music was blaring into the otherwise plain and tasteless road of East Auckland Avenue. It was of underground heavy metal and rock groups who gained local longevity through this place of business called the Rockporium and had long since become a cornerstone of Briarwood, California. There was a mob that had suddenly formed within the past few minutes. People clustered around nervously, but it wasn't in anticipation for a special celebrity guest at the business. But in fact it was regarding the health and well being of an elderly man who'd collapsed cold on the pavement next to the street. He was breathing, but he remained unconscious with some scrapes along the forehead. The crowd, no bigger than that of twelve diversely aged civilians, was soon met up by a vehicle. Rather than the police cruiser or ambulance they had expected, it was that of a black jeep. The ignition was turned off and the driver immediately rushed over. Dr. Tommy Oliver made his way through the crowd. Quickly kneeling down to the man, Tommy first checked the pulse, listening to the steady beating of the heart. The crowd around him curiously leaned in. "Everybody, give him some space!" Tommy rose up and took one more good look at the poor man. "Alright, I"ll get him to the emergency room. When the police arrive, have them contact me." He shuffled a crumply piece of paper and hurriedly wrote down the information. Driving close to eighty miles per hour, Tommy soared through the light traffic. And setting all things aside for just a very brief moment, he was back behind the racing car his uncle had sponsored years back. Only instead of a racecar, it was a huge, clumpy jeep. Either way, it was as close as he was going to get. And that was enough to satisfy him. Tommy took note of the lack of police in the entirety of the town, seeing how a large vehicle like his was basically making its own rules and leaving rather noticeable track marks. "Man, it's a good thing the Silver Guardians don't patrol this city." The Silver Guardians were a growing police force in Silver Hills, California commanded by two fellow Rangers, Wes Collins and Eric Meyers- both of whom were as stubborn as Tommy on his worst day. He thought of their strict ways as he noted the lack of here in Briarwood. It reminded him of the constant cycles of change. How permanence is an illusion. 18 Up ahead was the sign he was waiting for. It wasn't a road sign but rather it was a tree, and a fairly large one at that. And from the far distance, if one were to look at the branches and perceive them in such a way, one could see some of the branches act as a hand pointing in the direction towards a heavily wooded area nearly a mile away from the public road. And that was where Tommy stopped the vehicle. Tommy looked over to the civilian, who sat comfortably in the passengers side. "Alright, Udonna. Here's our stop." He proceeded to jump from the car. The man unbuckeled his seat belt and opened the door, smiling towards Tommy. As one leg stepped out, a metamorphosis took place. The body of the frail, injured man turned to that of an enchanted mistress. Donned in white and bestowed in glimmering jewelry, Udonna made her way over to Tommy. "It's nice to finally meet with you in person." "I'm sure it won't be the last." Tommy extended his hand and embraced hers. "So what if I hadn't have driven by?" "Well then, I wouldn't be much of a mystic in that case." Udonna appeared to be in her late thirties, but her enemies from generations back would tell otherwise. Guiding Tommy through the enchanted woods, Udonna allowed him to explain the intended purpose of his visit, though she already knew full well what it concerned. Though she suspected that Tommy knew of this as well, but it was good for him to vent it out to another human being. She strongly understood humans as very social creatures. Udonna herself was human with enough life experience to spare. She had a husband and child, Leanbold and Bowen respectively, who were stolen from her due to the betrayal of a trusted friend. Trained as a masterful sorceress, she conditioned herself to live for the memories of her family. It was her fighting spirit, whether as a sorceress or as a White Ranger. Tommy had discovered Udonna and the powers she possessed through a mutual friend named Shayla- Princess of the mystical lands of Animaria. It was a partnership knew by few people since Tommy saw no need in introducing her abilities just yet. Powers, as his original mentor once taught him, were to be used upon the escalation of evil. Not for the glory or indulgence of the self. The sorceress was a nurturer by nature and that was exactly how Tommy saw her. Almost like a mother. His own mother had been stolen from life before he could bare any physical memory of her. It made his issues with short term memory loss all the more extraneous at times. But it did serve as a practicality on many occasions when he needed an extra boost to win a fight. One thing that Tommy learned was to respect the power granted by wisdom, a power best gained by trials of the heart. 19 Udonna scaled the surroundings and was satisfied with the locale, then turning to her friend in need. "Stand here." Tommy had an inkling of what she was about to do. Looking up, tree branches were intricately intertwined as if layed out by a master sculptor. Nature was another force that Toomy was in awe with. Being a preserver as an occupation, he understood the balance that nature held and he treasured that balance in anyway possible. He even went as far as developing new weapons for the Wild Force Rangers, a group purely dedicated to protect Earth against the most toxic creatures. Back in the days Jason and Kimberly, he participated in numerous community projects that helped to clean Angel Grove. And in his own way, he was still cleaning up toxic waste as a leading authority if the Rangers. A pentagram. He just now realized that the branches, in the midst of their design, forged a pentagram, a sign of protection, in which the rays of the sun beamed through to kiss his head. "Amazing," he thought. "You'd be surprised at the wonders people would see if they chose to open their eyes." Udonna now wielded a small staff no bigger than her arm. The top half bore the "M" emblem of the Mystic Force, an energy based on ancient spiritual beliefs. "Take my staff, Tommy." "With this staff, imagine all the things made possible by the actions left done and undone. With all the power you have, there is none as enduring as the spirit that chooses to hold on. Place this against your heart and believe, Thomas, that your spirit will continue to fight for what it truly wants. What is it that you want?" It was one of those questions that should have been simple for him. But with all these revelations concerning his condition and the Morphing Grid, he truly had no idea. Tommy Oliver stood there under the protection of the pentagram and with Udonna's staff pressed against his heart, the sun beaming down on him as warm hand on his shoulder. He pondered Udonna's question further, but the results were still the same. "For this exercise, push aside your responsibilities of the world. Allow yourself the freedom to bare no burdens of the fate of your people and to focus and what makes your soul contempt. The Morphing Grid is derived of echoes of souls from the beginning of time, and carries the devine wisdom of their unified voice. The Grid has given you great power. Heed its wisdom to unmask your purest desires. Allow it to transform you once more." Her words were soon carrying an echo and seemed to fade farther in the distance. If the Morphing Grid was a source of wisdom, like a modern day voice of Solomon, then Tommy needed to trust in that wisdom. His very faith was being tested. He was never drawn to the idea of organized religion, but the core messages behind it in seeking wisdom to aid your fellow man was truth he always tried keeping in heart. 20 All of his years as a Ranger, all the battles and all the drawbacks, it wasn't about the weapons or the powers or even victory over evil. For Tommy, it was victory over the adversities created by the fears in his mind. And it was to preserve the balance of power, as mentioned in Billy's book, so that can continue in its richest form. The Morphing Grid was life- physically, spiritually, mentally. He heard Udonna's voice again, but something was different now. Her voice was crying in terror- it was a shriek. Tommy opened his eyes, but saw nothing of Briarwood. His senses, all of them, were now undergoing a very familiar distortion. He felt off-balanced and almost hit in the face. Coordination was lost to him, and the only thing he felt was the force of his body collapsing; his face plummeting against the hard earth. The body became weightless as all light vanished. 21 Four- Into the Fire Tommy's eyes opened and the dizziness seemed to be subsiding. The visions were getting ridiculously close to one another. If this were him in labor, then the baby would be popping out at any moment. There had to be some way of reducing the magnitude of the effects so that these episodes wouldn't render him so useless. Udonna might- ..."Aw man." Tommy suddenly realized that maybe he wasn't completely out of the woods just yet. In fact, there was an entire jungle before him. When Tommy looked up after regaining his sight, he expected Anton and a few flight attendants to be hovered over him, or perhaps a fairly good looking lady civilian giving him CPR. But that was the farthest thing from the truth. The truth, it seemed, was far from making any sense. He wasn't on a plane at all. In fact, he was in the middle of what looked like a desert. The sky was red with cracks of lightning tearing through, and it was the only thing lighting the whole area. But there was a particularly large lightning strike that, for a second which last forever, revealed part of the enigma for the first time. The land was littered with people. And not only people. They were all Rangers. He quickly scanned with his eyes and counted over thirty of them immediately. And these were just the ones gathered a half mile away. Looking around, he saw the others; every remaining Power Ranger and ally that he'd ever met and archived. "My God," he muttered. "Why are they here?" And on closer inspection, he took note that they were all in their Ranger forms and facing the same direction. None of them wore their helmets, either, but a weapon of various sorts were locked and loaded. This wasn't making sense. Was this another vision? None of his past visions held any kind of consistency or pattern before. Worst yet, if the visions were now accelerating to this kind of degree, did it mean that his tumor was having an equal amount of influence? And if that were so, what kind of time did he have left? Was he safe to assume that there was any time at all? He tried to look at the thing up ahead that his comrades were peering at. There was no question to it, the Rangers meant business here. They were here for a purpose. United for a purpose. But what would justify such a mass gathering? Was this why the Morphing Grid had been so strange lately? Yes, that had to be it. Anyone with knowledge of the Grid's illness would strategically attack at the source; and if that were so, then that meant Earth wasn't anywhere in the picture. 22 For there was a planet that was key to all the Rangers' power,and it was home to the most resilient wizards to ever face the darkest corners of the universe. If Tommy was right, then this could very well be Eltar- home planet of Zordon. He'd have to answer some questions first about who they were facing, how they got to Eltar and what needed to be done to save it all. Even he was in a battlesuit. It was his black suit themed after the Brachiosaurus. He looked in his right hand which held his signature weapon, the Brachio Staff. The reality wasn't sinking in just yet. "What if we can't beat this?" spoke the gentle feminine voice that came to him. It took him a second to realize it came from right beside him, and he immediately recognized it. This was impossible - but quite undisputable- it was the voice of his first love, Kimberly Anne Hart. "I've never been so unsure, Tommy." What in God's bowl of Fruit Loops was going on here? That was Kimberly. The Kimberly. The one who...who he was certain he'd spend the rest of his life with. The Kimberly who left him without a shoulder to cry on. She stood there, looking in the same direction as the other Rangers and, also like the others, was in her old battlesuit with an unsettling look of nervousness. The sky was again crippled by lightning, and her face came into full sight. Even after all this time, she held the beauty of an angel. Now she was waiting for his guidance, as if he were able to possibly come close to fathom what was happening. "Kim?" He figured that was as good of a start as any. She looked over into his eyes and seemed to be lost in them. Man, had he missed that look. It almost made the last three months worth it. This was still immensely wrong. It had to be a trick devised by some madman. Maybe some kind of virtual reality devised to distract the mind of the enemy while the body was being used for their own intents and purposes. Then he remembered the he fell asleep last week watching the "Matrix" movies. "Aw man, those rentals are a week late!" Kimberly looked confused. "The what?" "Sorry, I..." Those eyes were hypnotizing. Apocalyptic danger or not, there was something that had to be done first. Approaching Kim, Tommy placed his hand on her soft cheek and drew in for a kiss. His lips melted against hers, and she wasn't fighting it. Locked in the kiss, Kim wrapped her arm over his back and brought him closer against her. His hands ran through her brunette hair and then over her waist. This was definitely worth the last three months. 23 The hold was released, but Tommy held her face close to his, catching his breath. "Kim, you listen to me now. I don't know what this thing is capable of. And we're not going to know much else until we're down there taking care of it. But what I do know is that if our powers are to be destroyed, and us rendered to the brink of our lives, I'll still draw strength knowing that you're by my side. Just know that this victory is already ours. Now we just need to claim it." Kimberly took his hand in a firmly, almost regaining her breath. "Tommy, I love you." As she spoke, her voice broke apart and she planted her head against his shoulders, embracing this man. Something felt very strange again. There was light coming from nowhere. The light started to return again. Reality was refocusing itself to bring Tommy back to consciousness. The nausea was next to follow and the trees of Briarwood were now upside down. It took Tommy a moment to realize that it was he who was turned upside down. In fact, he was on his back with both legs hanging over his head. Udonna crouched down to ensure he was okay. Tommy spat some leaves from the corner of his mouth. "Okay, I'm starting to feel like a certain character in Wonderland." If that was a dream, then he needed to spend more time actually sleeping at night. 24 Five- Pity and Mercer Tommy left Briarwood deeply disturbed. He was now on course to one final location that would have the best knowledge. If Udonna was his mother figure, then his next affiliate would be undoubtedly his father figure. He took the next exit off the highway, trying to heed the directions from Mapquest.com. Tommy was happy to have gotten lost only twice this time. It just seemed surreal. Healing methods of both eastern and western civilizations were seemingly ineffective. But Udonna did leave him with sound advice about wisdom. And with that, he knew of the next person to visit to help resolve this mystery. Tommy always did appreciate a good mystery. He and his friends played out a few of their own back in the day. Granted, the bounty wasn't his life back then. There were many mythic standards Tommy had tried living up to in the past. But now he couldn't help to ponder the possibility that nothing out there could save him. Was he to wait it out and let nature take its course? Come to terms and accept it? That's that? "So it's that bad," spoke a sharply dressed man in his late thirties, Anton Mercer. "You look like a lost puppy in the middle of traffic." Tommy had been lost in his thoughts and reached his destination before realizing it. Even though he'd met with Anton here several times in the past, his memory condition prevented him from ever going here without the aid of a map. Nonetheless, he was here. "Well...it's not as bad as I thought." Then again, he was face-down in the woods not too long ago. He was meeting Anton here at a populace rest stop. It was roughly the midpoint from where they both lived these days, Anton being busy in his own ways networking with other businessmen to help fund his paleontology hobbies. "So it's curable." Anton sometimes had to get right to the point to get a straight answer. He also sported a suit that cost more than Tommy's jeep. "No." God, how he wished he was giving another answer. "But it'll only drag out for the next couple of months, rather than years." Anton sighed under his breath and approached his colleague, grabbing his shoulder. "Tommy, you have all of my resources at your disposal, my friend." The two walked along the busy crowds of a two story restaurant a mile down from where they met at the rest stop. Tommy felt better talking to Anton, who once found himself plagued by a disease himself. 25 He was the best to understand what he was going through. Anton discovered not only how to survive his disease, but to live a life after it. Anton walked with both hands in the pockets and head tilted. "Had I known earlier, perhaps our college lab experiments could have been put to better use." "What's done is done. I had a responsibility to carry out, and there's none of it I regret. Right now, I have to-" Tommy was interrupted by sudden zooming of three sports cars rushing by where he was about to step. He looked up and barely got a good look. From a distance, he was reminded of one his old Zords. "Man, and I thought those days were tough." Those days. "Now you're holding back," snapped Anton. "Sorry?" "The last time you maintained that withdrawn look, you failed to mention that the baby T-Rex had urinated on my bed. Good times, yes, but that's digressing." As treasured as those days were, he'd sooner forget about the dry cleaning bills. "If I stop talking, you're not going to let it go. Relentless as always." He cracked a smile looking at the pavement. "Like all scientists should be. So what about it?" "Alright. I think this goes deeper than taking Tylenol. Even extra strength. This illness has been in direct correlation with the fluxes in Ranger weaponry." "You mean three months." Anton had hoped this wasn't leading down the path he theorized. "Right. I'm thinking this goes all the way back to the vitality of the Morphing Grid." "The M- Tommy, I,ve known you to have some, well, out-there hypotheses, but you're talking about an infrastructure that countless lives are connected to. If the Grid falls ill..." "Everything suffers," sighed Tommy. "We need someone with details of the Grid that no archive base would have. Maybe they've dealt with something like this already. If there's something out there strong to cure the Grid, maybe it could help with me, too. But there are more people at stake than just me. Good people who deserve more of a change at life." 26 "That's a wealth of knowledge, my friend. Maybe Cameron Watanabe or William Cranston?" It took a moment for Anton to remember that Billy had vanished. "No...in fact," a glimmer of hope came to his eyes, "only two beings in current history were able to maintain the actually balance of the Grid. One's gone." "And the other?" It was good hear a sparkle of hope in his friend's voice. Tommy smirked and looked to Anton, who had stopped walking. "The other is very much alive and well." Anton was both speechless and inspired. It wasn't long before his cell phone was flipped open. "I'm booking us a flight to London." "Us?" Not that Tommy minded, but he was uneasy about dragging anyone else into this mess. "If your condition worsens, it'll be nice having someone at your side." An appreciative nod was given. "So London it is. Do you think he's still married?" 27 Next | Fanfic Center | Homepage