Power Rangers XL (accel) is a cross-over between Tron Legacy and Power Rangers and is set in our present day.
If you haven't followed either, bone up then come back. - SVSH
Power Rangers XL
Chapter One:
"Power Down"
A Ranger's life is never the same after the first morph. The surge of energy, the new superhuman capabilities - you feel like you can do anything. No one knows this more than one particular Ranger. Nearly 20 years ago, Thomas J. Oliver first was acquainted with his mighty dragon powers and accompanying arsenal. Tommy, as he was called by his peers and friends, had grown up, but he had not forgotten.
There was a legacy left behind him. No matter how fast Tom would race up and around the diverse terrains of California, there was always something there to remind him of his glory days; he could never reallyleave it behind. This one particular night out on the open road the nostalgia was sitting heavier than usual … then it hit him. Tom abruptly pulled his Mazda RX9 over to the side of the road, dust kicking back and falling behind the compact power racer. He killed the engine and all went silent, save a passing Mack truck that rumbled past not a minute later.
Tom sat in silence and scanned his eyes about the familiar mountainous landscape. He knew this was it and he could never forget the handful of jaunts he made here as a teenager. Teleportation, as reliable as it had proven, was not always not an option and on occasion forced he and his teammates to trek on foot across the desert land. The destination of such treks was a good ten minutes away he estimated.
"But where?" Tom rhetorically mumbled.
The curious former Ranger emerged from his car and continued to scan the area from where he stood. There were only a few paths where one could progress on foot, so any choice was as good as the next Tom figured. Off he went.
The alarm beep of the Mazda confirmed it was secure as Tom strode off into the desert. Anyone familiar with this territory knew it wasn't secure itself. Wildlife would surely be nearby; coyotes, snakes and the like. Tom knew this but wasn't alarmed as his curiosity overtook his better judgment. The dead of summer, even at night, wasn't a bother either. No wind blew and there was almost no sound from the road. To most this would be eerie, but for Tom the things he has encountered, battled and destroyed far surpassed what passively goes bump in the night.
Howbeit, even the world's most experienced alien butt-kicker needs to exercise caution. Tom became more aware of his surroundings as he got deeper into the desert. It's easy to become prey to a sneak attack of a coyote or anything for that matter, but what were the chances? Constant scanning showed zero life forms in eye shot. It's not like a group of Z-Putties or Cogs were going to magically materialize.
"It's not 1996 anymore, Tom. Focus."
Tom didn't know why he still had that expectation. He likened it to a child being abused for so long that whenever a hand would come close enough, the child would cower. Walking alone in open spaces was always prime time for roughing up the latest batch of foot soldiers.
Minutes passed and still nothing. Where was the decimated fortress once home to the Ranger's fallen mentor and worrisome robotic assistant? The remains couldn't have been removed or have they? It would make sense if authorities or even the common explorer made their way to where the charred debris had eroded for the past decade and a half. Had it made the news that wreckagewas discovered and Tom hadn't gotten word? Impossible; he had every possible Google, CNN and Examiner alert and app ready to report such things.
Tom looked at his mobile. Nearly 25 minutes had gone by since he started out. A few choice expletives ran through his head over what he already deemed a failure.
Beep…beep…
Tom's left wrist nearly smashed into his mouth, having made the similar communicator-to-lip arm movement he made for years. There was no alarm made, nor a communicator on his wrist for that matter. Just more vivid memories Tom reasoned as he pocketed his mobile.
Beep-Beep-Beep…
It was real. It had to be! Startled, Tom turned around to nothing but more open air. This time the sound was faster though just as faint. His mind loved to play tricks and often he would go to great lengths to verify if such occurrences were legit. Everything Tom would chase after only led him to the realization he was no longer in danger, that he was no longer one of Earth's saviors. The premonition of oncoming alien attacks were only met with common everyday white noise, city dwellers bustling about or a sea of roaring engines from Friday night street races he would attend religiously each week. Would this time be any different?
Tom loosened his fists he was prone to making seconds before a henchman could even touch ground with its feet. There were no hi-yahsor grunts to help power his signature kicks. There was no one to fight and no one to protect. He was alone in the desert. He was alone in life.
Tom about-faced and stalked back to his car seemingly defeated from the non-battle. How large this desert was that separated Angel Grove City from the outskirts of Los Angeles. The massive sands only made him feel smaller and more unneeded. Tom was headed to his car indeed, but wherewas he headed? It's decade two of the new millennium and what is there to boast of now? Ownership of an inherited car repair and accessory shop once ran by his uncle? A cozy slick pad in downtown L.A.? The random babe that would come and go through his door? None of those things could ever amount to the rush of playing a dagger to summon a dormant beast or riding atop of a white tiger.
The quiet was finally cut by a passing tanker as Tom finally arrived at the Mazda RX9. He slid back into the driver's seat and shut the door. The keys were still in hand as he gazed ahead to the open road before him. The trip back to his former city for a friend's bachelor party was interrupted for another crazy idea. At least that's how Tom put it as he tormented himself for the next ten minutes or so. A familiar SMS tone cut the silence.
Tom reached for his mobile and read the preview that shone light into the dark two-seater and across his face.
"Where u at?"
The short message showed someone cared of his whereabouts. Maybe he wasn't totally alone, but Tom felt strongly about his connections or lack thereof. His truest and oldest friends were scattered about the country, some across the ocean and in some cases across the galaxies. For the ones that were reachable by car, he was thankful. Tom figured a drink, or four, would take the edge off. Surely the advances of the paid entertainer at the party would do the trick, but maybe not. Either way, the next stop was the othercity of angels.
Key in, seat belt fastened and stereo and engine roaring back to life, Tom zoomed out toward another evening he would soon forget. Forgetful was Tom's specialty, but not for the ones who watched him the entire time. A pair of solemn, almost never blinking eyes store out from the perch she took. The unique cuts and crevasses of the mountains provided the best vantage points for her and her small group of like-beings. The dark of the night covered their bodies but couldn't mute thebeepof a low battery.
"We need to find you power soon."
The female's voice was directed at another female nearby, whose chipped light band along her right arm emitted another beep.
"My disc, my data … I fear all will be lost," came the reply.
The disc she spoke off sat securely on her back like the others around her. The once bright lights of their respective black suits were dimmed and for good reason. They all were loosing power and fast. This one particular female of the clan had experienced a nasty fall, thus her need for repair.
"We will continue to explore the remains of our findings to siphon what we can, but it will not be enough. Its alien power source is not proving to be a permanent fix for any of us."
A squatted figure rose up, notably male from its shape and accompanying shadow that splashed across the rock wall behind him.
"We need to find the boy," spoke the male. "He will save us."
"But the one we observed," came another male voice. "We all read his energy. He's different than the others we've crossed paths with."
"Yes, but he is not the one we seek," the first male answered.
"Correct," the first female agreed. "We have his energy signature pattern saved to our discs for future reference. If measures call for it, we can seek him out then."
A collective nod from the clan signaled agreement with the female. Together, they began to make their way back to the scraps of metal and other materials collected from the rubble that Tom sought but failed to locate. Their search for power continued.
The rumble in Sam Flynn's stomach went ignored again. His fingers tapped for hours on end on the keyboard that set his life on a new course just over a year ago in his father's old arcade. The equipment set, once dusty and unkempt, was luckily operable and now cleaned and fully restored. Its new home was in Sam's posh new hi-rise in downtown.
Gone was the riverside warehouse-turned-apartment that the ENCOM CEO made a home. Keeping a low profile was no longer an option. To live like a high profile CEO, you have to life like one, or at least that's how Chairman Alan Bradley explained it. Sam's reluctancy was short lived after he settled in to the new digs. The ceilings towered as did the windows that ran along the far end of the main room. Sam's money wasn't thrown away like many would have if they were in his position. Sure, he had a Ducati and some other toys, but nothing indicated young Flynn was drowning in excess and luxury.
All this withstanding, a 28 year old should not be in his home on a Saturday night, especially not behind the dimly lit screen of an ancient computer. Sam's trance was interrupted by the sound of breaking glass in the background.
"Oops."
Sam spun around in his chair to see Quorra standing on top of the ever-stretching granite counter-top in the kitchen. The fully sentient "isomorphic algorithm," or ISO, was more human-like than Sam cared for at times. He felt he had a distant relative staying over, one that just wouldn't leave.
"QUORRA," Sam said clearly annoyed.
He locked the PC immediately before leaving his seat.
"If you didn't leave your drink there, it wouldn't have gotten knocked off. This bulb wasn't going to change itself you know."
Quorra hopped from the counter down graceful as ever. If it was one thing that stopped Sam from being fully convinced Quorra was truly human, it was her impeccable, fluid and quiet movements. She could put any ninja to shame Sam once told her. Like a ninja, she had all mostly black on, but it wasn't her former power suit from the Grid days. Being in the human world, she was able to wear real clothing now, something she found exhilarating. How she loved to shop and experience new fashion. Her affinity for black was no doubt reflective of her old suit's color.
A black boyfriend shirt and charcoal sweat pants hugged her near-perfect physique. Sam strode over from his side of the oversized main room and bee-lined it to the kitchen.
"I trust you know where the broom and pan is?" Sam asked retrieving a beer from the fridge.
His eyes only glanced at Quorra, as he found himself sometimes staring at what most would identify as a "hottie." Not that Quorra could comprehend the more adult level of human emotion and desires, but Sam remained purposefully aware of his words and actions. His focus was on the ailing PC he just removed himself from. There was work to be done and a mission to complete, a mission he was keeping under wraps.
"Can't we go out and do something? It's boring in here," Quorra whined.
"We can't. It's raining," Sam said pointing his beer to one of the many windows overlooking the city.
Rain cascaded down the glass with the seemingly obligatory clap of thunder that would come anytime someone would make an observation like Sam's.
"Lame answer. Maybe a movie?"
"Sure. See what's On Demand," Sam said before taking another sip.
"No. I mean outside. You've been in here all evening. You need to get out," Quorra protested. "And I have clothes I've yet to wear."
"I've been inside all evening because I've been out all day at a charity function I'm forced to go to in order to help change the public's perception of ENCOM," Sam said recalling the draining day of photogs, loud obnoxious children and unsolicited ideas from rabid fans. "All I want to do tonight is relax."
"You call that thing relaxing?" Quorra asked pointing to the computer. "Dude, that's your dad's old junk. What could you possibly be doing? Playing solitaire?"
"Dude? What valley girl crap have you been watching all day?"
"Pretty much a 90's marathon VH1's been running all day. Fascinating fashions and vivacious vixens a plenty."
"I see your alliteration abilities are still sharp amongst the brutal attack on your IQ," Sam said turning planting his bottom on a bar stool. "Or whatever you call an IQ in your world."
"My world?" Quorra snapped. "Sam, this is my world now. My world is gone. Why do you have to be such a dick sometimes?"
"I'm not being anything. And you know, for an ISO who is trying to emulate raw human emotion, your timing sucks for emoting offensive and hurt. You're suppose to wait until I say something demeaning or something that devalues your existence or value."
"Like you're doing now?" Quorra asked crossing her arms.
"Precisely."
"Fine. Sam, you're now being a dick!"
"That's much better!"