Author's Notes/: The beginning of this chapter is credited to my dear Arytra, who pointed out that Justin's dad should not have legally been able to just dump Justin off and then pick him up again, because social services doesn't work like that.
The 'nightmare' had ended in Justin back at Little Angel's Haven only a week later - over a month ago now, with barely a goodbye. His dad insisted it was only temporary, he'd be back soon, he just needed some time, blah blah, blah, standard deadbeat dad speech. The shelter volunteers had nodded along, but they hadn't exactly looked sorry to see him leave, and had been trying extra hard to make Justin feel welcome after he was gone. It was the same thing they'd done the first time he'd been dumped, but there was an air of ... finality to it now. They dodged around the subject, but it was pretty clear to him that his dad had blown his last chance at getting to keep him. Angel Grove's adoption and CPS laws were pretty relaxed, but they weren't *that* relaxed.
Jerk, he thought at him darkly, wishing the Power would let him use the word he really wanted.
He abandoned the binder he'd been working on at the desk in his room and closed his eyes, dropping his head in his hands. The more he'd thought about it later, he realized he should have been expecting it for a while now. After the first few awkward attempts to bond with him, his dad had become distant, spending more and more time at work. He'd always passed it off as another important project that he needed to get done. Justin hadn't really questioned it; he was still adjusting to being a Ranger again, even - especially - being an inactive one, and anxiously awaiting for a chance to get in contact with the others again. It wasn't like he and his dad had been all that close for awhile now. Maybe they never had.
He sighed to himself and picked up a marker, absently doodling in the margins of his binder. He glanced at what he'd drawn and winced. Streaks of red, blue, green, yellow, and pink marred the paper. Even in his head, he still couldn't get away from it; from them. From the Power Rangers in general.
Scrawled awkwardly beside the streaks was the project he'd been staring at before his thoughts had drifted again. He'd been working on it on and off for nearly a year now, since he found it in the Power Chamber's archives not long after he'd become a Ranger. A 'prophecy', as Alpha had labeled it. Not that he really believed that someone could predict the future, but it was a puzzle he could work on when he needed distracting.
When Courage is overtaken by cruelty and a Protector swayed by magic.
A Guardian will become the mercenary, an Artisan shall seek to destroy all that was once loved, and the Mystic shall turn to torture.
When a Spirit twists and a Healer becomes pain, the Heart will turn to hatred
Knowledge faces betrayal, and Light turns to darkness
He'd figured out long ago that the attributes were a reference to the Power Rangers, and that the prophecy was about a group of Rangers turning evil. Or at least, he thought that's what it meant. There were more listings of attributes being twisted than there were Ranger Colors. He guessed that the capitalization was important. Most likely it gave clues to the identities of the 'Dark Rangers', as he'd taken to calling them. Unfortunately he was still no closer to figuring out the entire prophecy than he had been when he first discovered it.
He still flinched slightly at the thought of the Power Chamber, no matter how hard he'd tried to train it out of himself. It had been six months since its destruction, three since he'd last seen the Astro Rangers. Storm Blaster had stopped by once more after taking him home from that night, but it was only to tell him he had to leave - something about finding someone, and warning him to be careful and stay safe. He was grateful *someone* had remembered to say goodbye at least, though it still hurt to think they'd all left him.
He shook his head. It was stupid, to be upset over all this. It was life, pure and simple. People leave. Life stinks and then you die, as Pansy used to say on her darker days
Or did she? his mind whispered traitorously. He pushed the thought brutally aside.
He was isolated these days, and it disturbed him to realize that it actually bothered him now. He hadn't been able to get back in touch with Tommy, Kat, Adam, or Tanya since they'd left the team. He listened to Tanya on the radio whenever he got the chance, but he'd only gotten a 'Thanks for writing in!' auto-reply when he tried sending something to the station, and he never seemed to get through when he called in. Getting in touch with the other three was even more impossible; Tommy hadn't remembered to leave him any contact information - the jerk - Kat wasn't even in the country anymore, and Adam was apparently too busy to write back more than one 'Hey! I miss you! Things are going great!' letter.
He could have tried Rocky, but he couldn't bring himself to attempt it. He'd get as far as picking up a phone and just ... stop. Rocky had a knack for seeing through him in a way that no one else ever had; it tended to make him uncomfortable. And Rocky had his own problems to deal with anyway.
Getting a hold of the Astro Rangers was ... well, apparently that wasn't happening, either.
He'd just turned thirteen a week and a half ago. Tommy's birthday was yesterday. Not one letter. Not one phone call. Not even a card.
And now that he wasn't an active Ranger, he was realizing just how many friends he had outside of the team: as in none. The high school-aged kids ignored him because he was younger and smarter than them, and the kids his age were intimidated by him or something. He'd tried to hang out with Nico once or twice, but that just felt awkward. After all, Nico was still just an innocent, normal kid. He wasn't, now. If he ever had been.
The Turbo Power was starting to do a slow burn again as his emotions wavered back and forth, pushing him to do something. Go somewhere. It never liked to go unused, but now that he wasn't fighting ...
With a growl of frustration, he jumped to his feet and grabbed his skateboard. Skating had always helped to clear his head. He didn't bother with any gear - he couldn't be bothered to care enough about getting hurt to worry about it. Maybe the fresh air would help clear his head.
He stopped at a park bench to take a break, leaning his board against it. Flopping his head back with a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair. He didn't know why he couldn't get past this. He hadn't been an active Ranger for *six months*. Yeah, once or twice he'd seen the Astro Rangers on T.V., or run into some Quantrons in the park, but nothing really beyond that.
He glanced down at his wrist. He hadn't been able to bring himself to stop wearing the morpher Storm Blaster had given him since he'd gotten it. He could still sense the Power through it, but that was the problem. The Turbo Powers had been something between a Power of their own, and something siphoned off the Zeo Crystal. He still wasn't entirely sure what had happened to the Zeo Crystal in the wake of losing the Power Chamber - he couldn't exactly call up any of the Zeo Rangers and ask if they'd seen it - but there was something ... different about the Power now. Sometimes it buzzed through his veins, driving him to get out and do something; other times it was silent. Once in awhile he thought he could sense something ... more, something that wasn't his own Power, but he wasn't quite sure how to label it. It was almost like hearing someone whisper in the back of his mind, trying to get his attention, but not being able to answer them back.
He wasn't an active Ranger so he didn't need the morpher, yet he couldn't bring himself to leave it behind. Power Withdrawal was part of it, sure, but it wasn't the only reason. He just ... couldn't.
He leaned forward and buried his face in his hand. "Man, I'm pathetic," he muttered.
The tell-tale sound of fizzling air echoed above him, and he paused. Teleportation. He looked up slowly.
They weren't anything he recognized. Pale, blue-skinned humanoid creatures, dressed in armor with long triangular green blades running upwards along both of their arms from the wrist. Something that looked like a matching green fin ran down the back of their heads. And they were all around him, making bubbling noises that sounded very much like Piranhatrons.
He eyed one of the blades as the creature reached toward him. "This is gonna hurt," he grumbled to himself, tensing.
Slamming his hands down on the bench, he jerked his legs up and kicked outward. The creature fell onto its rear end with a cry. He attempted to swing his feet up and over, missed, and slid off the bench.
Ranger Reflexes were the only thing that saved him from cracking his head, managing to land in a handstand instead. He heaved upward again, flipping to land on another creature. His weight dropped it to the ground, a punch to the face ensuring that it stayed there. Throwing himself to one side, he rolled to his feet as they came at him. He retaliated with several forward kicks, trying to force them back far enough to get an opening. He spun to the side with a fist, only to gasp as something stung his stomach.
He glanced down, stumbling back with wide eyes. A hand came up to touch the tear through his t-shirt: the line beneath was already leaking an angry red. "Looks like these guys mean business!" he quipped, fighting back a surge of nervousness as the slice continued to bleed. "Time to even the score." He shifted his stance, twisting his wrist swiftly. "Shift into - !"
Stars exploded before his vision, and he slumped to the ground as everything slowly began to turn black.
Hey ... that's not fair ... they're not supposed to do that ...