One shot. Evil Green Ranger's rage.

Tommy treasured it fondly and, deep inside his heart of hearts, he knew it was wrong. It was power beyond measure, strength and confidence as he'd never felt in his life. But it came at the expense of his sanity and every other thing that made him human.

This evil monstrous persona knew no kindness, love, or compassion; there was no room for sympathy or empathy. These were all weaknesses banished from his very soul. When Rita gifted him that dark coin, there was only one emotion, one overriding drive. Pure, furious, all-consuming psychotic rage.

The feeling nestled deep in his chest and blossomed like a sick, poisonous flower. A diseased green weed. His mind felt fevered and rabid, fists aching for bloodshed. The evil Green Ranger had practically foamed at the mouth to get at those other weaker Rangers. His hatred and fury was masked by an ice cold veneer of aloofness, always on the verge of shattering.

The Green Ranger was truly a nightmarish figure. His sleek green uniform accentuated his tall, muscular physique. The golden shield complemented his broad chest and biceps. The dark visor of his helmet obscured his facial expressions, making him even more terrifying.

In the beginning, Tommy could only watch from the sidelines, all the while growing more and more aggressive inside. Hearing the cries of pain, seeing the bright crimson blood, smelling their fear as they battled Goldar without Zordon to guide them; it was intoxicating beyond anything he'd ever experienced. He wanted just a taste. The teasing only baited the monster, the dragon. But he'd been forbidden to take part; he was only to watch, bloodthirsty as hell.

Rita, his Empress, held his leash and only with her order could he attack. It felt like an eternity but finally the day came when she released him, snarling and heated into the melee. The thrill of battle coursed through his blood, rendering him impervious to any injury. Confusion ensued as the embattled Power Rangers had only seconds to realize there was a new Ranger on the field.

His frenzied mind had zeroed in and locked on the brilliant red uniform; red was all he could see. Red. The color of rage, of blood, of hell. The color only served to exacerbate the rage. The Green Ranger's primal instinct was to rip that shiny silk to shreds, to tear the Red Ranger's flesh, and drench himself in the spurting blood. Tommy wanted to taste it, to feel it on his bare skin.

Roaring with passion and screaming every obscenity imaginable, the evil Green Ranger viciously attacked the already injured Red Ranger; Goldar stood aside, grinning in delight at the bloody mauling. Jason was no match for his opponent in his weakened condition; Tommy's blitz attack had taken him completely by surprise. A brutal head butt from the Green Ranger had left Jason disoriented and barely able to stand.

Despite his ardent fervor in maiming the Ranger's leader, Rita had pulled him back, tugging him back into forced submission by her side. He grated at this, believing it only made him look weak or that he'd actually shown the Red Ranger mercy. Tommy had fully intended to rip his enemy's guts out with his bare hands. However, he had to obey, slinking back to the lunar palace, pissed and far from satisfied.

Locked in his room from prying eyes, he'd sat on the edge of his bed, still panting with exertion as he rocked back and forth but staring into space, his mind filled with jangled broken laughter. Slowly, he lowered his head into his hands, doubling over as he realized that he was the one laughing. It should have frightened him but it just made him laugh more manically. The rocking resumed as he sat curled over; beneath his visor, tears slid down his cheeks.

After several minutes, his hands slowly moved to pop the clasps on his helmet and he removed the mask, turning it around in his hands to gaze in the blackness that obscured his eyes. Tommy stared so intently it seemed the mask was staring back into soul.

Tommy,it seemed to hiss at him. Tommy, are you listening to me?

His laughter stopped as abruptly as it had started as his dark eyes widened.

Those stupid Power Rangers have no idea what's coming; they're not ready for us.

"No. They're not," he whispered to the dragon helmet. Gently, he began to trace the ridges and grooves with a gloved finger.

Silly sheep. They think what they do is so noble. They don't realize the evil that goes on under their noses. But we know, don't we, Tommy? We know the rotten, disgusting things that go on. The Power Rangers can't see the truth; that humans are just as evil deep down. Earth is nothing but a toilet, let's face it.

Tommy nodded grimly. He understood completely.

Kill them. Kill them all. Make them suffer and beg. Drain the blood from their wretched bodies and watch them take their last breath. But first thing's first.

Tommy's lips curled in an icy smile.

"That's right. And the Red Ranger is first on the chopping block."

Tommy shook himself from his reverie. He'd drifted off and lost track of time again. While not a new occurrence, it was definitely annoying. And yet again, like all the other times, he was standing morphed in front of a mirror. The Green Ranger stopped swaying and turned to the sound of pained cries.

They echoed off the walls and reached his ears like music. Now he remembered. Red Ranger. He was on his way to brutalize him, to inflict the most hellish acts he could think of on his poor vulnerable body. Tommy grinned and in his mind, the dragon snarled, a mouth full of dripping, razor sharp teeth. How it ached, how it swooned in anticipation of dominating the Tyrannosaurus, to assert its dominance now and forever. Its gold eyes shone as tendrils of smoke took flight from its great nostrils smelling of sulfur, a deep throaty growl resonating in Tommy's mind.

He entered the dungeon and found Jason, bound and bleeding, a look of defiance still on his face despite his wails.

As he approached, Tommy softly and slowly began to whistle Twisted Nerve, a song he'd enjoyed in a recent horror flick. Jason's eyes widened with fear and he knew it was a coin toss whether he'd survive this encounter. He could only hope his friends would find him soon.