Power Rangers: World of Darkness
Chapter 5:
I am
"I'm sorry kid, that's the truth." Zack had said, before walking out of the small room. Jason sat in a corner. He had sat there for two hours after throwing up on his blankets. They had been removed by Zack as he left, saying he was going out to see how Alpha was doing. Jason couldn't care less about Alpha right now. He had just been told that he was dead. Dead, but walking, talking, breathing, and thinking. Every aspect about life was there. Originally, he thought he had become no better than a Zombie, a soulless creature, wandering the earth in despair, envying the truly dead, frustrated as their body was being uncontrollably desecrated. Two thoughts contradicted him, there was the technology of the Morphers in general, which needed the soul of the host to function properly, and therefore his soul was still with him. This was according to Zack, at least, and Zack didn't sound like he believed in souls anyway, and this insulted Jason. Just because he was a priest doesn't mean you had to explain everything religiously correct in order for him to understand. He wasn't stupid he just had faith. Faith supported belief, and it was a belief of Jason's that was the other contradictory thought. If he didn't have a soul, then he wouldn't have any emotions, and if he didn't have any emotions, he wouldn't have just spent most of his last hour crying. It wasn't his grim state that had saddened him. It just was disturbing and confusing. The reason was closer to the heart than that. His home in Oasis Deep was destroyed. Familiar faces had been disintegrated, destroyed or demented beyond any hope of seeing them again. He had also found a newspaper in his room, from a city up under Canada called Serenity Veldt called the "Underground Press". He had read it. It was dated back two weeks after the last day of Jason's life. What day it was now he didn't know. The articles were all detailing the state of the world. North America were all in hiding, letting the new alien invasion of the Zedd Empire lay waste to all over ground structures, only able to touch some of the cities. Including the tragically accurate ray of Final Light (a vague term used when a sensitive person talks of the beams of light that lay the continent to waste in the first week of the invasion of the Zedd Empire) of Oasis Deep, the largest city complex known on North America. There was articles dedicated to its loss, including facts about how it rivaled France's Plains De Vie in size and Japan's Neo-Tokyo in efficiency. The world was in a sad state, Jason found. Every other country was cut off from North America, and they had given up on it. A few desperate transmissions by the newspaper reporter's sources revealed they lay in wait for the inevitable spread of invasion, and that rescue teams will be sent as soon as the defense of their own countries were secure. Basically, this meant no was coming out of paranoia. The city complexes that remained were slowly being found and destroyed. The worst loss was the Paradise Halls of Mexico, which was the main tunnel-city that connected the Americas together. After that terrible loss, the continents were even geographically cut off from each other. South America had been North America's only vent for survivors, only intake of more Ranger units, and only resource for supplies and necessities. All hope was lost. He had stopped reading at that point and had wept. Now he was calm. Did he dare pick up the newspaper again? He glanced at it. There it lay as the symbol of the world's sorrow in writing. The part that hurt him the most was that, at one time he could help the pains of others by showing them the word of God, and of the Lord Jesus Christ. No more masses no more Sunday school, no youth groups, no Martial Arts classes, no more making grand entrances into the parking lot with his motorcycle. He used to be the coolest priest there, but no more than a re-animated corpse now in metal underwear. He could not help the souls any more as he knew how. His church now lay in ruins, the cathedral he had begged and pleaded the Oasis Deep administrators to build, the petitions signed the money raising. His sweat and blood was in that church. His heart and soul was there, lying in the rubble and twisted metal. He grasped his silver crucifix pendant that still hung around his neck and looked at the paper. It was turned on to the last page, where Jason read a phrase that stirred him. He got out of his corner and picked up the newspaper, reading the sentence over and over again. He laughed out loud, getting to his feet, he felt giddy. Dropping the newspaper he spread his arms and looked up to the ceiling, as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. It had read, "Only the Power Rangers can save us now." "I AM A POWER RANGER!" he preached in revelation, and smiled proudly with determination of such magnitude that his body flashed orange and red as he spoke those words. He looked down and saw himself glowing faintly. Clenching his fists, he caused a fiery aura to sprout around his knuckles. He could feel it, it was like a small spark on his gut, incandescent with power. The power was inside of him, but he had to somehow unlock it. He let his arms drop, and let the power slip back into him. He felt breathless for a moment, he hadn't realized how long he had concentrated on the glow on his hands, and it had exhausted him, mentally. His vision swarmed like he had just stood up too fast. He didn't understand these new sensations, but they were there, and he was excited by them. His thoughts swarmed, but unlike before these were positive. He could save the world. Zack and he, the Power Rangers, could save the world. Once again the superhuman duo would beat back the aliens. This melodramatic notion sparked a chuckle in him, but doubt stole it away. He still felt dazed from when he held the glow on his hands. He had made himself glow on purpose, but it drained him. If that were only an anima effect of his power, what would it take to get the actual benefits? Would he strain himself into a coma before even getting close to even Morphing? He hasn't even been into a Karate stance in ten years. Could he be a hero, now? He was just a priest, and he knew God is a father, creator and guide, not a bodyguard. Would he be to handle his fate? "I will," he said, the daze clearing from his head, courage swelling in his heart, "I am the Red Power Ranger. I must do it."
I am
"I'm sorry kid, that's the truth." Zack had said, before walking out of the small room. Jason sat in a corner. He had sat there for two hours after throwing up on his blankets. They had been removed by Zack as he left, saying he was going out to see how Alpha was doing. Jason couldn't care less about Alpha right now. He had just been told that he was dead. Dead, but walking, talking, breathing, and thinking. Every aspect about life was there. Originally, he thought he had become no better than a Zombie, a soulless creature, wandering the earth in despair, envying the truly dead, frustrated as their body was being uncontrollably desecrated. Two thoughts contradicted him, there was the technology of the Morphers in general, which needed the soul of the host to function properly, and therefore his soul was still with him. This was according to Zack, at least, and Zack didn't sound like he believed in souls anyway, and this insulted Jason. Just because he was a priest doesn't mean you had to explain everything religiously correct in order for him to understand. He wasn't stupid he just had faith. Faith supported belief, and it was a belief of Jason's that was the other contradictory thought. If he didn't have a soul, then he wouldn't have any emotions, and if he didn't have any emotions, he wouldn't have just spent most of his last hour crying. It wasn't his grim state that had saddened him. It just was disturbing and confusing. The reason was closer to the heart than that. His home in Oasis Deep was destroyed. Familiar faces had been disintegrated, destroyed or demented beyond any hope of seeing them again. He had also found a newspaper in his room, from a city up under Canada called Serenity Veldt called the "Underground Press". He had read it. It was dated back two weeks after the last day of Jason's life. What day it was now he didn't know. The articles were all detailing the state of the world. North America were all in hiding, letting the new alien invasion of the Zedd Empire lay waste to all over ground structures, only able to touch some of the cities. Including the tragically accurate ray of Final Light (a vague term used when a sensitive person talks of the beams of light that lay the continent to waste in the first week of the invasion of the Zedd Empire) of Oasis Deep, the largest city complex known on North America. There was articles dedicated to its loss, including facts about how it rivaled France's Plains De Vie in size and Japan's Neo-Tokyo in efficiency. The world was in a sad state, Jason found. Every other country was cut off from North America, and they had given up on it. A few desperate transmissions by the newspaper reporter's sources revealed they lay in wait for the inevitable spread of invasion, and that rescue teams will be sent as soon as the defense of their own countries were secure. Basically, this meant no was coming out of paranoia. The city complexes that remained were slowly being found and destroyed. The worst loss was the Paradise Halls of Mexico, which was the main tunnel-city that connected the Americas together. After that terrible loss, the continents were even geographically cut off from each other. South America had been North America's only vent for survivors, only intake of more Ranger units, and only resource for supplies and necessities. All hope was lost. He had stopped reading at that point and had wept. Now he was calm. Did he dare pick up the newspaper again? He glanced at it. There it lay as the symbol of the world's sorrow in writing. The part that hurt him the most was that, at one time he could help the pains of others by showing them the word of God, and of the Lord Jesus Christ. No more masses no more Sunday school, no youth groups, no Martial Arts classes, no more making grand entrances into the parking lot with his motorcycle. He used to be the coolest priest there, but no more than a re-animated corpse now in metal underwear. He could not help the souls any more as he knew how. His church now lay in ruins, the cathedral he had begged and pleaded the Oasis Deep administrators to build, the petitions signed the money raising. His sweat and blood was in that church. His heart and soul was there, lying in the rubble and twisted metal. He grasped his silver crucifix pendant that still hung around his neck and looked at the paper. It was turned on to the last page, where Jason read a phrase that stirred him. He got out of his corner and picked up the newspaper, reading the sentence over and over again. He laughed out loud, getting to his feet, he felt giddy. Dropping the newspaper he spread his arms and looked up to the ceiling, as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. It had read, "Only the Power Rangers can save us now." "I AM A POWER RANGER!" he preached in revelation, and smiled proudly with determination of such magnitude that his body flashed orange and red as he spoke those words. He looked down and saw himself glowing faintly. Clenching his fists, he caused a fiery aura to sprout around his knuckles. He could feel it, it was like a small spark on his gut, incandescent with power. The power was inside of him, but he had to somehow unlock it. He let his arms drop, and let the power slip back into him. He felt breathless for a moment, he hadn't realized how long he had concentrated on the glow on his hands, and it had exhausted him, mentally. His vision swarmed like he had just stood up too fast. He didn't understand these new sensations, but they were there, and he was excited by them. His thoughts swarmed, but unlike before these were positive. He could save the world. Zack and he, the Power Rangers, could save the world. Once again the superhuman duo would beat back the aliens. This melodramatic notion sparked a chuckle in him, but doubt stole it away. He still felt dazed from when he held the glow on his hands. He had made himself glow on purpose, but it drained him. If that were only an anima effect of his power, what would it take to get the actual benefits? Would he strain himself into a coma before even getting close to even Morphing? He hasn't even been into a Karate stance in ten years. Could he be a hero, now? He was just a priest, and he knew God is a father, creator and guide, not a bodyguard. Would he be to handle his fate? "I will," he said, the daze clearing from his head, courage swelling in his heart, "I am the Red Power Ranger. I must do it."