So, yeah. Call this an experiment. This story is basically the 'first episode' of an original Power Rangers series set in the same sort of universe as the rest but not directly based on or adapting anything. If people like it, then I'll continue. One way or another, I would love to hear what everyone thinks, so please be sure to leave a review.
Anyway, you're not here to read my ramblings. You want a story. So here we go…
Power Rangers: Wild Frontier
Prologue
Midnight. The valley town of Fort Sonora, New Mexico, slept on.
Sure, there were lights – streetlamps and traffic signals and a string of all-night diners and bars near the train station – but nestled down between the slopes, they didn't get too far. The surrounding hills lay black as pitch, with only the stars and pale silver of moon to light the way. Even if the most townsfolk hadn't been sleeping, none of them would've seen the black figures creeping towards them through the mesquite.
'Figures' was not quite the right word. They were things, twisted mounds of black flesh pulled tight over stretched bones. They hobbled through the night in a group of six, sometimes on all fours, sometimes up-right. Wide feet left tracks in the dirt like a man trying to walk with skis, and their arms came to a razor-sharp point that shred earth and plants alike to clear their path. Blood-red eyes glowed, guiding their way through the darkness. They had a mission. A target. A goal.
Fort Sonora, their masters whispered, would finally fall.
The crack of branches beneath a human foot brought the group to a stuttering halt. Even with their meager animalistic instincts, they knew that it was too late and too dark for a human to be about. As one, they peered through the darkness, catching sight of an old man in a faded gray Stetson, leaning on his cane, clutching something in his fist that pulsed with soft colored light.
An instant later, the man moved like lightning, cane flying like a blade, striking each of the creatures in turn. They tried to leap at him en masse, but he was too well-prepared, catching each with a sharp blow and slamming them to the ground. One managed to knock the Stetson from his head, and that was all it managed before it too was pinned, the cane digging into its throat.
The old man lift his glowing fist into the air, uncurling a thick metal chain. Hanging from it was a rough, golf ball-sized stone that pulsed with red light, growing brighter and brighter with every flash. Warm light consumed everything, swallowing the shadows like a hungry beast.
And then it was gone, taking the black things with it.
In their place were five rather startled-looking jack rabbits, who scattered into the night. The sixth was still pinned beneath the old man's cane and scrambled away to join its brothers the moment it was released.
The old man took a deep breath of the chill night air and looped the metal chain around his neck once more. The rock rested against his heart, still pulsing softly, though its colors were now diminished to a weak light that even he could barely see. Slowly, he leaned down over his cane, picked up his hat, and set it back on his head.
"They're back all right," he said to the wind. "Guess it's time to start lookin'."
The wind did not, could not respond, but he took no notice. Nestled against his chest, the stone continued to glow, but now its pulses changed color – not just red, but pink, yellow, green, and blue as well. It was waiting. Watching. Searching for those worthy to take up its call.
Below them in the valley, the city of Fort Sonora slept on.