Dee Ariss
12-27-2008, 03:51 AM
POWER RANGERS: SPACE BRIGADE
Based on Saban’s Power Rangers 1993-2001
& Toei’s Choudenshi Bioman 1984-1985
XXX
The town of Angel Grove, California, was the birthplace of a legend. The legend of the Power Rangers, a group of young friends who would become a superhuman fighting force to do battle against the forces of Dark Spectre and his United Alliance of Evil. Since 1998, however, the town had seen a considerable deal of peace. In the final battle between the Alliance and the last leader of the Power Rangers, Zordon, an ancient wizard who embodied all that was good and pure, used all of his power in order to remove himself and the forces of darkness from this universe entirely.
For details on what happened next, see the currently incomplete Power Rangers: Hidden War (http://www.geocities.com/prhiddenwar) saga for details.
For many, the age of the Power Rangers seemed to have ended, and apart from the pages of the history books, nobody believed they would see neither hide nor hair of them ever again (yes, similar groups using the name had cropped up in other places spread across the United States, but as far as the general populace could tell, they were independent, with no prior connection to the original group or indeed Angel Grove itself). The man with the sandy hair thought so as well…until the Ecrocians came.
XXX
Episode 1: “The Power Returns”
Written by Scott D. Harris
XXX
He wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced around him. He stood upon a secret location hidden by the Vasquez Rocks, where once there lay a magnificent building known as the Command Centre. The man and his companions had constructed a new building there, a combination Command Centre and launch pad. On the pad was their transport, a unique, trapezium-shaped, blue-and-silver spaceship, dubbed the Excursion.
His five companions were grouped around him: the nearest was his lady-wife, Cestria of Aquitar, who despite the gold, helmet-like shell around the top of her cranium, was a beauty with chocolate brown eyes and curly, long black hair. By her side was their young son, Cestrion. On his other side was the robot Alpha-5, scarlet of body emblazoned with the sign of a lightning bolt, his head a dark gold saucer, cleaning grease off his metal hands and muttering to himself. The next two had not been acquainted with the man with the sandy hair for quite so long, but he was more than happy to call them ‘part of the team.’
First there was tall and thin Sundew, from the planet Thrum, his flesh covered in a layer of fine, green fur, eyes as black as night and leaves in place of hair reaching down to his shoulders. Not accustomed to the concept of clothes, he wore only dark blue shorts and sandals. Second was Truce, an olive-skinned noblewoman from Triforia, the three-fold world of the three-fold beings.
This really calls for a celebration, thought the sandy haired man, but alas he knew this was not possible. They had come here for a reason, more than just to establish a base. They had work to do. The call to action was a vision relayed to them by Delphine, leader of the Aquitian Power Rangers. Each member of their race was gifted with varying levels of precognitive capability, and from an early age it had been particularly strong in Delphine, so the wise would consider her visions. She had said a great evil was making its way towards the Earth, and that with no Power Ranger squadrons currently active as far as she could tell, it had fallen into his hands to begin the legend anew. He had spent years studying the nature of the Rangers, striving to discover Zordon’s secret. He did not possess his mentor’s magic, but with the help of his Aquitian friends he had reached some degree of success. When the evil arrived, he would be ready for it. He led his friends inside.
The central chamber of the Command Centre greatly resembled its predecessor. It consisted of a blue, oval-shaped platform suspended over a pit from which could be heard the sound of a pulsating power source. All but one part of the platform was ringed with computer consoles, amongst which were a multi-coloured alarm that resembled a prison, and a globe-shaped crystal ball of sorts hooked up to the centre’s series of spy satellites (which currently only manoeuvred about nearby Angel Grove though the sandy haired man hoped to extend the range soon). The space at one end of the platform was connected to the heavy sliding doors by a bridge. Brightly-lit pillars reached up from the unseen floor to the high ceiling, illuminating the walls, a star-laden map of the known galaxy. The only major difference was that it lacked the glowing ethereal tube that served as the wizard Zordon’s connection to our world. From a sliding panel on one of the consoles, the man produced three gold coins and three silver things the exact size and shape of a matchbox. He clipped the coins into the devices and handed two of them to Sundew and Truce.
“Go on,” he urged them. “Put these Bio-Morphers on.”
To demonstrate, he held the remaining box against his right wrist. A red band snaked out of one end, curled around the wrist and reattached itself on the other side, sticking itself perfectly to him. His companions repeated the motion (their box’s bands were green and pink respectively).
“What’s our next move, Billy?” asked his lady-wife Cestria, putting her hand on his shoulder. The man called Billy glanced almost longingly at the Bio-Morpher he now wore. He missed the rush that came with each transformation, and in a way he looked forward to the arrival of their enemies, so he could feel it again.
“Our next move, my dear,” he said, “is to wait, and to watch the skies.”
XXX
The Moon Palace had been deserted ever since the Last Great Battle, but now, a light came on. A long, metal staff tipped with a two-pronged tuning fork brushed away the heavy cobweb-like clusters of dust and filth, as the new residents took their first steps inside. Five of them in total, three men, two women. Leading them was the wielder of the staff. He had chalky white skin, a lofty domed forehead and a sharp nose, his eyes were an icy blue. He had bushy, silver eyebrows that almost met in the middle and his milky white hair, while long, was very neat and straight. He wore a cape that was black on the outside and red on the inside over his dark blue uniform.
“Vhat a dump,” said his nearest companion. “Vhy are ve vastink time standink round here vhen zhere’s a vorld to conquer?”
“Eloquent as always, Vulkhan,” said the leader. “This is the most strategically sound setting for our headquarters, all it needs is some touching up…like so.”
He lifted his staff and banged the tuning fork against the wall. He placed the vibrating head on the floor, and a wave of silver flooded out of it, climbing up the walls and clinging to the ceiling like a hoard of insects. The things, microscopic robots of a personal design, dug their way into the surfaces and began to reshape the interior of the Moon Palace around them. Walking out onto the balcony, the man smiled down at the blue world beyond.
“Doctor Molachite,” said his brawnier companion, “where we gonna start?”
“I have somewhere in mind,” Doctor Molachite’s mouth stretched into a hideous grin, displaying two rows of knife-like teeth over his ruddy lips. “A little town called Angel Grove. Home sweet home. Vulkhan, Bruticon, take a squad of Nullifiers, scare the populace into submission, then call us to come down with a slave ship, understood?”
“Yes, my Liege,” the two who had spoken saluted together.
XXX
On that sunny Friday afternoon, Maura Bettencourt sat on the grass in the Angel Grove High sports field, where the archery club were packing up after another after-school session in preparation for the approaching tournament. She folded up her bow into its carrying case and slung the handle over her shoulder, then untied her yellow hair ribbon, allowing her auburn locks to hang loose down her back (she had a collection of ribbons in different colours, each one worn during a certain event. Maura could not explain how, but if the right ribbon was applied, she could focus better on the task at hand). She stood up and cast her gaze to the window of the school complex, where through a window she spied a dark-haired, pale-skinned youth up to some activity, and immediately she felt sorry. It was during science class, she and the boy, Johnny Katzenjammer, were paired up, and she had ruined it, effectively blowing up the room. Johnny, who knew how important the archery club was to her, had decided to clear up the whole mess on his own. Now, three quarters of an hour later, he was still hard at work. Choking back the lump in her throat, Maura willed herself over to the window and tapped on it. Now she could see he was just finishing up, but he had soot all over his hands, face and shirt. He opened the window and said cheerfully, “Afternoon, Maura.”
“Johnny,” she said, “I’m sorry about what happened.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he replied. “You couldn’t miss your club, not with the tourney coming up. Give me a minute to wash the soot off and I’ll be with you, okay?”
“Okay, I’ll see you by the main entrance.”
They met as planned and walked out into Angel Grove’s town centre together. Johnny had changed into his white P.E. shirt, exposing the muscles of his arms. He may have been clever, but he was no stranger to athleticism. He believed a healthy mind and a healthy body went hand-in-hand, and kept himself in good shape. It lessened his chances of being picked on for his intellect, because bullies have a certain genetic strain that proves true over all – they never persecute someone who looks like they can strike back. Johnny Katzenjammer had taken enough of that in elementary school, he was not going to let people push him around in his further education as well. The two friends were walking towards the familiar Angel Grove Gym & Juice Bar when the invaders appeared.
It started with a line of small explosions that threw them off their feet and drew the attention of the crowd of people in the square. Two figures stood on one of the rooftops, the smaller of the two was holding a staff, on each end was a cylindrical attachment that brought to mind a cannon. One of these cylinders was aimed at the citizens and smoke was rising from it. The man was short and built solidly, with a square jaw, spiky black hair and amber eyes. He wore a blue jumpsuit and silver armour on his chest, back, shoulders, forearms, shines and ankles. Cybernetic parts were clamped to his head, going from the back, across his temples and over his eyebrows. A red dome glowed over his heart.
“Greetinks, people of Angel Grove!” he bellowed in a voice that oozed with venom. “I am Vulkhan, emissary of zhe great Ecrocian Empire unt new slave-master of zhe planet Earth. You have two choices, you can submit unt live in slavery to zhe Ecrocians, or you can resist unt die like dogs. Here is just a taste of vhat is in store for you if you defy us. Nullifiers!”
A humming sound started to radiate from everywhere and the front door of the building serving as their perch burst open and out marched a group of figures in black outfits and silver masks with dimly-glowing orange eyepieces. The front-most one had the addition of silver shoulder pads. This one, the Squad Commander, spoke in a mechanical voice, “Attack!”
The crowd was thrown into a panic as the Nullifiers, the soldiers of Doctor Molachite’s great and terrible army, rushed them. Those who were unlucky enough to get caught were tossed about like rag dolls. Vulkhan laughed, enjoying the carnage. He turned to his cohort, a towering man with a bald head, wide, dark-rimmed eyes and coffee-coloured skin. He wore black-and-silver armour all over his body and a ‘V’-shaped headpiece, and none of this disguised the fact he was all-muscle.
“Delicious, isn’t it, Bruticon?” said Vulkhan. “Zheir anguish, zheir despair.”
Bruticon made a sound in the back of his throat but gave no real answer. Vulkhan turned his nose up at him and looked back at his handiwork. Police patrol cars came screeching onto the scene and the valiant officers of the A.G.P.D. did their best to protect their citizens from their aggressors, but alas they were unready for what was to come. The Nullifier Squad Commander saw off three officers with a single swipe of his sword.
Hiding behind an overturned car, Johnny attempted to hold back Maura.
“We have to help the people!” she protested. “The police can’t hold them off much longer!”
“Maura, don’t!” Johnny held tighter. “You’ll be killed!”
“I don’t care!” she pulled away from him. The lemon yellow shirt sleeve he was holding her by tore off in his grip as she charged into the fray, pulling her bow from its bag and unfolding it to full length as she moved. Johnny stared at the fabric between his fingers. He knew it was stupid to go against these things, but with Maura now in the line of fire, what choice did he have? He sighed, tied the fabric around his bicep, and vaulted over the top of the car, dropkicking the nearest Nullifier in the back of the head, and ramming his elbow into the face of another (which really hurt actually). The two teens fought against overwhelming odds as the Nullifiers closed in on them. They stood back-to-back, arms up and ready for the offensive.
“Nice knowing you, Johnny,” said Maura.
“Likewise. I’ll get you for this when we’re on the other side,” said Johnny. For a moment, it seemed like they would end their lives there, crushed by horrible alien warriors, but dramatic irony played the winning hand. Something struck the side of Vulkhan’s cranial attachment, causing him to wince and cry out angrily. All eyes, the fighters, the Nullifiers, the few remaining citizens and police officers (most of which had been able to evacuate the area), fell on three figures walking up the street. Everything was silent apart from the hiss of gun-smoke wafting from the barrel of the lead figure’s gun. He wore a red-and-white jumpsuit and a helmet with a black visor and a dark panel on his forehead. On his left was someone in a similar outfit but green, one his right was someone else in a similar outfit but pink and obviously female. From that second, the legend was reborn.
“It’s the Power Rangers!” someone shouted. “They’ve come back!”
“Power Rangers?” said Johnny, Maura, Vulkhan and Bruticon all at the same time.
“Power Rangers, Switch-stars ready! Formation A!” the Red Ranger commanded. The Green and Pink Rangers readied their own handguns and they spread out in three different directions, attacking the Nullifiers with speed and ferocity. The alien warriors were so thrown off by what they had seen that they were unable to defend themselves and in just a short space of time, they were reduced to smoking metal remnants on the ground.
“Come on,” said Maura amidst all the noise, “let’s help the rest of the civilians out of here.”
“Right with you,” Johnny agreed, as he and his friend ushered the last few people away from the battle.
Up on the roof, Vulkhan snarled and aimed his staff down at the three Rangers, who regrouped on the ground below.
“You vorms!” he cried. “I’ll blast you into atoms! Nobody insults Vulkhan like zhis! Die!” He twisted a section of the staff and a ball of white light launched from the downward cylinder. The Rangers rolled out of the way just in time to avoid it, and the impact left a smoking, basketball-sized crater in the concrete.
“We need to get that staff away from him,” surmised the Green Ranger.
“Yeah, but watch out for the big one too,” added the Pink Ranger.
“I’ll take the boss,” said the Red Ranger, “can the two of you take on his pal?” His friends nodded. He returned the gesture and the three of them split up in two different directions. The Green and Pink Rangers primed their Switch-star guns on Bruticon and squeezed the triggers. Bullets coated in hot laser energy flew out, striking the bald man’s armoured body and throwing up small explosions.
“Ya little cretins,” he scowled, holding his arms in a position as he summoned a battleaxe in a burst of telemetric energy. He bent his knees then leapt off the roof, landing with enough force to send shockwaves coursing along the street and throwing the Green and Pink Rangers off-balance, and before they could even stand up straight, he swung his battleaxe and slashed them across their white chest-plates, flooring them once again. He brought the weapon down towards the Green Ranger, but the blade stopped mere inches from the front of his visor, halted by a heavy clang of metal. Bruticon staggered backwards, reaching for the back of his head to find a pole bent neatly over his skull. With a grunt and a tug he pulled it free and swung it through the air, sending his aggressor, Johnny Katzenjammer, crashing into the town centre’s fountain. The Pink Ranger ran to his aid as the Green Ranger stood and squared off against their enemy. In a burst of energy he summoned a new weapon, a green boomerang.
“Plasma-rang!” he announced its name, drew back and let it fly. The curved weapon sliced across Bruticon’s chest and began to circle him like electrons in an atom, attacking again and again, denting and cutting his metal armour and drawing sparks.
Up above, the Red Ranger swung his own personal weapon – a long red staff with a three-pronged blade on each end which he called it his Lightning Lance, modelled after a weapon he had become most adept in years earlier – at Vulkhan, who blocked with his own staff.
“I vill tear you to pieces, human germ!” the alien warlord boomed.
“I’ve been threatened by professionals, my friend,” the Red Ranger sneered, “ones who are stronger and scarier than you.”
Vulkhan swiped his staff along the ground, but the Red Ranger was able to jump out of the way and swing his Lightning Lance downwards. Vulkhan blocked and pushed his opponent back and followed up with a high kick. The Red Ranger rolled along the rooftop and over the edge, clutching on for dear life with his free hand. Vulkhan grinned horribly and positioned the cylinder of his staff just inches from his foe’s helmet-covered face.
“Unt now, it is time to die,” he hissed. A whistle. A slam. Vulkhan cried out and put his hands to his temples, stumbling away and dropping his weapon as an electrical current swirled around his face. The Red Ranger dragged himself back up onto the roof and watched with amazement. Was that…an arrow? He looked off to the side and saw a teenaged girl holding a bow. She gave him a thumbs-up and began to load another arrow from her bag. Vulkhan screamed obscenities in an alien language and dropped to his knees, pounding the roof like a spoilt child. The next arrow flew and hit him in the shoulder. The alien warlord stood up and turned his attention to the girl, seemingly forgetting about the Red Ranger.
“How dare you!?” he snarled, leaping from his perch towards her. He backhanded her to the ground, sending her bow and arrows skittering across the pavement. He grabbed her shirt collar in one hand and lifted her off the ground, bringing his free fist back to deal her a bone shattering punch, when the silver-sharp pain coursed through him. The girl fell to the ground with a bump, as did the arm holding her. Vulkhan gasped, he gaped, he spluttered and inhaled loudly, then released an ear-splitting scream. The Red Ranger lowered the blade of his Lightning Lance, now stained with black fluid that was most certainly not human blood, and bent down to help the girl up.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Now we’re even,” he chuckled.
“BRUTICON!” Vulkhan cried. “VE RETREAT BACK TO ZHE MOON PALACE! NOW!” He turned to the Red Ranger and glared hatefully. “Zhis is not zhe end, Red Ranger, I vill return! You have not heard zhe last of me!”
He disappeared, teleported away, in a pulse of particles, and his accomplice reluctantly followed in an identical fashion. The three Power Rangers regrouped. Maura ran to her stunned friend and helped him onto his feet. He appeared unhurt for the most part, and managed to make his way to the others with only a slight limp in his walk.
“Well done, team,” said the Red Ranger, “but from experience, I can safely say this is far from over. They’ll be back, and they’ll be mad. We were lucky this time, might not be so much next time, so be on your guard. You two…” He looked at the teens. “We appreciate the help, what you both did took guts.”
“You should join the team!” the Pink Ranger exclaimed. “You were great!”
Maura and Johnny looked at each other, eyes wide, the former wearing a wide grin across her face.
“I’m not so sure,” said the Red Ranger. “This is a dangerous business.”
“You let us join,” the Pink Ranger countered. The Green Ranger nodded. The Red Ranger stiffened, and nodded, “Yes, I did…very well…” To the teens. “Well, looks like I’m out-voted, but it’s your choice, kids. You definitely have the courage for it, but the choice is up to you.”
“Yes!” Maura squealed. “Yes, yes, yes! I’ll do it!”
“I guess I’d better come along, too,” said Johnny. “If I’m not around she’ll get herself in all kinds of trouble.”
The Red Ranger smiled behind his helmet, “All right, first of all, the both of you should go home and recover. Meet us tomorrow at noon behind the Gym & Juice Bar. Don’t worry, you’ll recognise us. Until then…”
He pressed a hidden section on the trim of his left glove and warped away in a red burst, and his companions did the same.
Johnny sighed, “Maura, what have you gotten me into now?”
Based on Saban’s Power Rangers 1993-2001
& Toei’s Choudenshi Bioman 1984-1985
XXX
The town of Angel Grove, California, was the birthplace of a legend. The legend of the Power Rangers, a group of young friends who would become a superhuman fighting force to do battle against the forces of Dark Spectre and his United Alliance of Evil. Since 1998, however, the town had seen a considerable deal of peace. In the final battle between the Alliance and the last leader of the Power Rangers, Zordon, an ancient wizard who embodied all that was good and pure, used all of his power in order to remove himself and the forces of darkness from this universe entirely.
For details on what happened next, see the currently incomplete Power Rangers: Hidden War (http://www.geocities.com/prhiddenwar) saga for details.
For many, the age of the Power Rangers seemed to have ended, and apart from the pages of the history books, nobody believed they would see neither hide nor hair of them ever again (yes, similar groups using the name had cropped up in other places spread across the United States, but as far as the general populace could tell, they were independent, with no prior connection to the original group or indeed Angel Grove itself). The man with the sandy hair thought so as well…until the Ecrocians came.
XXX
Episode 1: “The Power Returns”
Written by Scott D. Harris
XXX
He wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced around him. He stood upon a secret location hidden by the Vasquez Rocks, where once there lay a magnificent building known as the Command Centre. The man and his companions had constructed a new building there, a combination Command Centre and launch pad. On the pad was their transport, a unique, trapezium-shaped, blue-and-silver spaceship, dubbed the Excursion.
His five companions were grouped around him: the nearest was his lady-wife, Cestria of Aquitar, who despite the gold, helmet-like shell around the top of her cranium, was a beauty with chocolate brown eyes and curly, long black hair. By her side was their young son, Cestrion. On his other side was the robot Alpha-5, scarlet of body emblazoned with the sign of a lightning bolt, his head a dark gold saucer, cleaning grease off his metal hands and muttering to himself. The next two had not been acquainted with the man with the sandy hair for quite so long, but he was more than happy to call them ‘part of the team.’
First there was tall and thin Sundew, from the planet Thrum, his flesh covered in a layer of fine, green fur, eyes as black as night and leaves in place of hair reaching down to his shoulders. Not accustomed to the concept of clothes, he wore only dark blue shorts and sandals. Second was Truce, an olive-skinned noblewoman from Triforia, the three-fold world of the three-fold beings.
This really calls for a celebration, thought the sandy haired man, but alas he knew this was not possible. They had come here for a reason, more than just to establish a base. They had work to do. The call to action was a vision relayed to them by Delphine, leader of the Aquitian Power Rangers. Each member of their race was gifted with varying levels of precognitive capability, and from an early age it had been particularly strong in Delphine, so the wise would consider her visions. She had said a great evil was making its way towards the Earth, and that with no Power Ranger squadrons currently active as far as she could tell, it had fallen into his hands to begin the legend anew. He had spent years studying the nature of the Rangers, striving to discover Zordon’s secret. He did not possess his mentor’s magic, but with the help of his Aquitian friends he had reached some degree of success. When the evil arrived, he would be ready for it. He led his friends inside.
The central chamber of the Command Centre greatly resembled its predecessor. It consisted of a blue, oval-shaped platform suspended over a pit from which could be heard the sound of a pulsating power source. All but one part of the platform was ringed with computer consoles, amongst which were a multi-coloured alarm that resembled a prison, and a globe-shaped crystal ball of sorts hooked up to the centre’s series of spy satellites (which currently only manoeuvred about nearby Angel Grove though the sandy haired man hoped to extend the range soon). The space at one end of the platform was connected to the heavy sliding doors by a bridge. Brightly-lit pillars reached up from the unseen floor to the high ceiling, illuminating the walls, a star-laden map of the known galaxy. The only major difference was that it lacked the glowing ethereal tube that served as the wizard Zordon’s connection to our world. From a sliding panel on one of the consoles, the man produced three gold coins and three silver things the exact size and shape of a matchbox. He clipped the coins into the devices and handed two of them to Sundew and Truce.
“Go on,” he urged them. “Put these Bio-Morphers on.”
To demonstrate, he held the remaining box against his right wrist. A red band snaked out of one end, curled around the wrist and reattached itself on the other side, sticking itself perfectly to him. His companions repeated the motion (their box’s bands were green and pink respectively).
“What’s our next move, Billy?” asked his lady-wife Cestria, putting her hand on his shoulder. The man called Billy glanced almost longingly at the Bio-Morpher he now wore. He missed the rush that came with each transformation, and in a way he looked forward to the arrival of their enemies, so he could feel it again.
“Our next move, my dear,” he said, “is to wait, and to watch the skies.”
XXX
The Moon Palace had been deserted ever since the Last Great Battle, but now, a light came on. A long, metal staff tipped with a two-pronged tuning fork brushed away the heavy cobweb-like clusters of dust and filth, as the new residents took their first steps inside. Five of them in total, three men, two women. Leading them was the wielder of the staff. He had chalky white skin, a lofty domed forehead and a sharp nose, his eyes were an icy blue. He had bushy, silver eyebrows that almost met in the middle and his milky white hair, while long, was very neat and straight. He wore a cape that was black on the outside and red on the inside over his dark blue uniform.
“Vhat a dump,” said his nearest companion. “Vhy are ve vastink time standink round here vhen zhere’s a vorld to conquer?”
“Eloquent as always, Vulkhan,” said the leader. “This is the most strategically sound setting for our headquarters, all it needs is some touching up…like so.”
He lifted his staff and banged the tuning fork against the wall. He placed the vibrating head on the floor, and a wave of silver flooded out of it, climbing up the walls and clinging to the ceiling like a hoard of insects. The things, microscopic robots of a personal design, dug their way into the surfaces and began to reshape the interior of the Moon Palace around them. Walking out onto the balcony, the man smiled down at the blue world beyond.
“Doctor Molachite,” said his brawnier companion, “where we gonna start?”
“I have somewhere in mind,” Doctor Molachite’s mouth stretched into a hideous grin, displaying two rows of knife-like teeth over his ruddy lips. “A little town called Angel Grove. Home sweet home. Vulkhan, Bruticon, take a squad of Nullifiers, scare the populace into submission, then call us to come down with a slave ship, understood?”
“Yes, my Liege,” the two who had spoken saluted together.
XXX
On that sunny Friday afternoon, Maura Bettencourt sat on the grass in the Angel Grove High sports field, where the archery club were packing up after another after-school session in preparation for the approaching tournament. She folded up her bow into its carrying case and slung the handle over her shoulder, then untied her yellow hair ribbon, allowing her auburn locks to hang loose down her back (she had a collection of ribbons in different colours, each one worn during a certain event. Maura could not explain how, but if the right ribbon was applied, she could focus better on the task at hand). She stood up and cast her gaze to the window of the school complex, where through a window she spied a dark-haired, pale-skinned youth up to some activity, and immediately she felt sorry. It was during science class, she and the boy, Johnny Katzenjammer, were paired up, and she had ruined it, effectively blowing up the room. Johnny, who knew how important the archery club was to her, had decided to clear up the whole mess on his own. Now, three quarters of an hour later, he was still hard at work. Choking back the lump in her throat, Maura willed herself over to the window and tapped on it. Now she could see he was just finishing up, but he had soot all over his hands, face and shirt. He opened the window and said cheerfully, “Afternoon, Maura.”
“Johnny,” she said, “I’m sorry about what happened.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he replied. “You couldn’t miss your club, not with the tourney coming up. Give me a minute to wash the soot off and I’ll be with you, okay?”
“Okay, I’ll see you by the main entrance.”
They met as planned and walked out into Angel Grove’s town centre together. Johnny had changed into his white P.E. shirt, exposing the muscles of his arms. He may have been clever, but he was no stranger to athleticism. He believed a healthy mind and a healthy body went hand-in-hand, and kept himself in good shape. It lessened his chances of being picked on for his intellect, because bullies have a certain genetic strain that proves true over all – they never persecute someone who looks like they can strike back. Johnny Katzenjammer had taken enough of that in elementary school, he was not going to let people push him around in his further education as well. The two friends were walking towards the familiar Angel Grove Gym & Juice Bar when the invaders appeared.
It started with a line of small explosions that threw them off their feet and drew the attention of the crowd of people in the square. Two figures stood on one of the rooftops, the smaller of the two was holding a staff, on each end was a cylindrical attachment that brought to mind a cannon. One of these cylinders was aimed at the citizens and smoke was rising from it. The man was short and built solidly, with a square jaw, spiky black hair and amber eyes. He wore a blue jumpsuit and silver armour on his chest, back, shoulders, forearms, shines and ankles. Cybernetic parts were clamped to his head, going from the back, across his temples and over his eyebrows. A red dome glowed over his heart.
“Greetinks, people of Angel Grove!” he bellowed in a voice that oozed with venom. “I am Vulkhan, emissary of zhe great Ecrocian Empire unt new slave-master of zhe planet Earth. You have two choices, you can submit unt live in slavery to zhe Ecrocians, or you can resist unt die like dogs. Here is just a taste of vhat is in store for you if you defy us. Nullifiers!”
A humming sound started to radiate from everywhere and the front door of the building serving as their perch burst open and out marched a group of figures in black outfits and silver masks with dimly-glowing orange eyepieces. The front-most one had the addition of silver shoulder pads. This one, the Squad Commander, spoke in a mechanical voice, “Attack!”
The crowd was thrown into a panic as the Nullifiers, the soldiers of Doctor Molachite’s great and terrible army, rushed them. Those who were unlucky enough to get caught were tossed about like rag dolls. Vulkhan laughed, enjoying the carnage. He turned to his cohort, a towering man with a bald head, wide, dark-rimmed eyes and coffee-coloured skin. He wore black-and-silver armour all over his body and a ‘V’-shaped headpiece, and none of this disguised the fact he was all-muscle.
“Delicious, isn’t it, Bruticon?” said Vulkhan. “Zheir anguish, zheir despair.”
Bruticon made a sound in the back of his throat but gave no real answer. Vulkhan turned his nose up at him and looked back at his handiwork. Police patrol cars came screeching onto the scene and the valiant officers of the A.G.P.D. did their best to protect their citizens from their aggressors, but alas they were unready for what was to come. The Nullifier Squad Commander saw off three officers with a single swipe of his sword.
Hiding behind an overturned car, Johnny attempted to hold back Maura.
“We have to help the people!” she protested. “The police can’t hold them off much longer!”
“Maura, don’t!” Johnny held tighter. “You’ll be killed!”
“I don’t care!” she pulled away from him. The lemon yellow shirt sleeve he was holding her by tore off in his grip as she charged into the fray, pulling her bow from its bag and unfolding it to full length as she moved. Johnny stared at the fabric between his fingers. He knew it was stupid to go against these things, but with Maura now in the line of fire, what choice did he have? He sighed, tied the fabric around his bicep, and vaulted over the top of the car, dropkicking the nearest Nullifier in the back of the head, and ramming his elbow into the face of another (which really hurt actually). The two teens fought against overwhelming odds as the Nullifiers closed in on them. They stood back-to-back, arms up and ready for the offensive.
“Nice knowing you, Johnny,” said Maura.
“Likewise. I’ll get you for this when we’re on the other side,” said Johnny. For a moment, it seemed like they would end their lives there, crushed by horrible alien warriors, but dramatic irony played the winning hand. Something struck the side of Vulkhan’s cranial attachment, causing him to wince and cry out angrily. All eyes, the fighters, the Nullifiers, the few remaining citizens and police officers (most of which had been able to evacuate the area), fell on three figures walking up the street. Everything was silent apart from the hiss of gun-smoke wafting from the barrel of the lead figure’s gun. He wore a red-and-white jumpsuit and a helmet with a black visor and a dark panel on his forehead. On his left was someone in a similar outfit but green, one his right was someone else in a similar outfit but pink and obviously female. From that second, the legend was reborn.
“It’s the Power Rangers!” someone shouted. “They’ve come back!”
“Power Rangers?” said Johnny, Maura, Vulkhan and Bruticon all at the same time.
“Power Rangers, Switch-stars ready! Formation A!” the Red Ranger commanded. The Green and Pink Rangers readied their own handguns and they spread out in three different directions, attacking the Nullifiers with speed and ferocity. The alien warriors were so thrown off by what they had seen that they were unable to defend themselves and in just a short space of time, they were reduced to smoking metal remnants on the ground.
“Come on,” said Maura amidst all the noise, “let’s help the rest of the civilians out of here.”
“Right with you,” Johnny agreed, as he and his friend ushered the last few people away from the battle.
Up on the roof, Vulkhan snarled and aimed his staff down at the three Rangers, who regrouped on the ground below.
“You vorms!” he cried. “I’ll blast you into atoms! Nobody insults Vulkhan like zhis! Die!” He twisted a section of the staff and a ball of white light launched from the downward cylinder. The Rangers rolled out of the way just in time to avoid it, and the impact left a smoking, basketball-sized crater in the concrete.
“We need to get that staff away from him,” surmised the Green Ranger.
“Yeah, but watch out for the big one too,” added the Pink Ranger.
“I’ll take the boss,” said the Red Ranger, “can the two of you take on his pal?” His friends nodded. He returned the gesture and the three of them split up in two different directions. The Green and Pink Rangers primed their Switch-star guns on Bruticon and squeezed the triggers. Bullets coated in hot laser energy flew out, striking the bald man’s armoured body and throwing up small explosions.
“Ya little cretins,” he scowled, holding his arms in a position as he summoned a battleaxe in a burst of telemetric energy. He bent his knees then leapt off the roof, landing with enough force to send shockwaves coursing along the street and throwing the Green and Pink Rangers off-balance, and before they could even stand up straight, he swung his battleaxe and slashed them across their white chest-plates, flooring them once again. He brought the weapon down towards the Green Ranger, but the blade stopped mere inches from the front of his visor, halted by a heavy clang of metal. Bruticon staggered backwards, reaching for the back of his head to find a pole bent neatly over his skull. With a grunt and a tug he pulled it free and swung it through the air, sending his aggressor, Johnny Katzenjammer, crashing into the town centre’s fountain. The Pink Ranger ran to his aid as the Green Ranger stood and squared off against their enemy. In a burst of energy he summoned a new weapon, a green boomerang.
“Plasma-rang!” he announced its name, drew back and let it fly. The curved weapon sliced across Bruticon’s chest and began to circle him like electrons in an atom, attacking again and again, denting and cutting his metal armour and drawing sparks.
Up above, the Red Ranger swung his own personal weapon – a long red staff with a three-pronged blade on each end which he called it his Lightning Lance, modelled after a weapon he had become most adept in years earlier – at Vulkhan, who blocked with his own staff.
“I vill tear you to pieces, human germ!” the alien warlord boomed.
“I’ve been threatened by professionals, my friend,” the Red Ranger sneered, “ones who are stronger and scarier than you.”
Vulkhan swiped his staff along the ground, but the Red Ranger was able to jump out of the way and swing his Lightning Lance downwards. Vulkhan blocked and pushed his opponent back and followed up with a high kick. The Red Ranger rolled along the rooftop and over the edge, clutching on for dear life with his free hand. Vulkhan grinned horribly and positioned the cylinder of his staff just inches from his foe’s helmet-covered face.
“Unt now, it is time to die,” he hissed. A whistle. A slam. Vulkhan cried out and put his hands to his temples, stumbling away and dropping his weapon as an electrical current swirled around his face. The Red Ranger dragged himself back up onto the roof and watched with amazement. Was that…an arrow? He looked off to the side and saw a teenaged girl holding a bow. She gave him a thumbs-up and began to load another arrow from her bag. Vulkhan screamed obscenities in an alien language and dropped to his knees, pounding the roof like a spoilt child. The next arrow flew and hit him in the shoulder. The alien warlord stood up and turned his attention to the girl, seemingly forgetting about the Red Ranger.
“How dare you!?” he snarled, leaping from his perch towards her. He backhanded her to the ground, sending her bow and arrows skittering across the pavement. He grabbed her shirt collar in one hand and lifted her off the ground, bringing his free fist back to deal her a bone shattering punch, when the silver-sharp pain coursed through him. The girl fell to the ground with a bump, as did the arm holding her. Vulkhan gasped, he gaped, he spluttered and inhaled loudly, then released an ear-splitting scream. The Red Ranger lowered the blade of his Lightning Lance, now stained with black fluid that was most certainly not human blood, and bent down to help the girl up.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Now we’re even,” he chuckled.
“BRUTICON!” Vulkhan cried. “VE RETREAT BACK TO ZHE MOON PALACE! NOW!” He turned to the Red Ranger and glared hatefully. “Zhis is not zhe end, Red Ranger, I vill return! You have not heard zhe last of me!”
He disappeared, teleported away, in a pulse of particles, and his accomplice reluctantly followed in an identical fashion. The three Power Rangers regrouped. Maura ran to her stunned friend and helped him onto his feet. He appeared unhurt for the most part, and managed to make his way to the others with only a slight limp in his walk.
“Well done, team,” said the Red Ranger, “but from experience, I can safely say this is far from over. They’ll be back, and they’ll be mad. We were lucky this time, might not be so much next time, so be on your guard. You two…” He looked at the teens. “We appreciate the help, what you both did took guts.”
“You should join the team!” the Pink Ranger exclaimed. “You were great!”
Maura and Johnny looked at each other, eyes wide, the former wearing a wide grin across her face.
“I’m not so sure,” said the Red Ranger. “This is a dangerous business.”
“You let us join,” the Pink Ranger countered. The Green Ranger nodded. The Red Ranger stiffened, and nodded, “Yes, I did…very well…” To the teens. “Well, looks like I’m out-voted, but it’s your choice, kids. You definitely have the courage for it, but the choice is up to you.”
“Yes!” Maura squealed. “Yes, yes, yes! I’ll do it!”
“I guess I’d better come along, too,” said Johnny. “If I’m not around she’ll get herself in all kinds of trouble.”
The Red Ranger smiled behind his helmet, “All right, first of all, the both of you should go home and recover. Meet us tomorrow at noon behind the Gym & Juice Bar. Don’t worry, you’ll recognise us. Until then…”
He pressed a hidden section on the trim of his left glove and warped away in a red burst, and his companions did the same.
Johnny sighed, “Maura, what have you gotten me into now?”