Prism

Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine. I don't know who they belong to, but please don't sue me. If you do, your net gain will be an ancient copy of Wheelock's Latin, some novels for my 20th Century Fiction course, an enormous anthology of American Literature, and a couple of books on the American political system. Believe me, it's not worth it!

Author's note: Well, in penance for my delay, I've written a chapter twice as long as the others so far. I kept meaning to post a chapter within a week. However, good intentions pave the road to Hell, so here I am nearly three months later just getting something done, courtesy of finals, credit overloads, transfer applications, midterms and other general things that seem to get in the way. I'm finally back though, and planning to update my other stories as well as this one in the next week or two! Thanks for your patience and support! Y'all are awesome, especially Dagmar, Symbolic Agony and Lilac Moon, plus so many others!


She struggled to sit up. "Ohhhh…" A soft moan escaped her lips, then she pursed them hard. I do not cry out for them, she reminded herself stubbornly, seeing a shadow flit across the wall that reminded her of her captors. Gritting her teeth, she slowly detached her back from the stone of the bench in the cell. Her damp, broken skin stuck to the surface, and by the time she had peeled herself off it, she couldn't stop a tear from running down her face. A soft knock startled her.

Two figures entered the cell, bearing a tray. "Is it time to eat again already?" she couldn't resist asking. It was rare to get this much food. She supposed it was because here in the prison, the food, while in scant portions, was actually handed to her and without other people in the cell, there wasn't the problem with having to fight for her share.

The smaller girl bent silently, expert hands checking the bandages, unwrapping them where she could see seepage.

"Who are you?"

The girl looked up slightly suspiciously. She'd helped this prisoner before, but never given any sort of personal details. Examining the face before her, she finally seemed to decide that there was no threat. "They call me Trini."

"Tay."

Trini looked back to the lash marks on Tay's back. They were beginning to heal a bit, but Trini had to admit that she was concerned about a small bit of infection starting in one deeper cut. Whatever I do, I have to clean that out before it spreads. She looked to the third woman, still standing with the tray. "Bear, take a look at this," she murmured.

The woman came over, and probed the wound gently. "It's infected," she sighed. Silently looking down at Tay, she shook her head slightly as an odd flash of recognition went through her, but the moment was fleeting and she turned back to brisk efficiency. "We have to clean this out," she said with a grimace. It would hurt terribly, Bear knew. To curtail the spread, they were going to have to clean hard, and quite possibly even pull some of the necrotic and infected skin off entirely. Yet, it was better than having Tay die from the infection. Bear set the tray down. Uncovering it, she thought about giving Tay some of the food, but decided against it until after she and Trini had worked on the wounds. She'd seen people vomit because of the pain, and with so precious little food, there was no sense in wasting it like that.

Trini was digging around in her shapeless garment. At last she produced a slender metal object. Bear recognized it immediately. How Trini had gotten her hands on a blade of any kind was a mystery, but it would aid them in cutting the cloth for bandages, and if it came to that, the infection out.

Trini's skilled fingers rested on the unbroken flesh around the infected wound. An unnatural heat emanated from it, and Trini slowly applied pressure, her fingers creeping closer and closer to the edge of the wound. A thick pus emerged, as did an awful smell. Putting her hand out, Trini felt the blade placed in it. It's not sharp enough she thought. Shaking her head, she concentrated only on the raw surface before her eyes, refusing to think of it as a part of a living person. Out of the corner of her eye, she observed Bear all but gagging the girl and placing a strong hand over the girl's mouth. She forced the image out of her mind, as well as the girl's name - easier that way. Pressing her one hand hard just above the area Trini had chosen for her first incision to keep it taut, she thrust the knife through the tissue.

"Gah!" came a gasp. Bear's face bore a resolution somehow unnatural in one as young as she was – Trini surmised Bear to be close to her own age. Bear held the girl tightly, unwilling to let her move.

Once partially cut, the infected skin came loose and Trini excised it. The next part, she knew, would be the most painful and difficult, and she found herself praying that her patient lost consciousness soon. Now that she could see how far the infection had gone, Trini plunged the blade in again, this time into healthy skin just above the infection. Unimaginably horrific, but the infection had to be eradicated entirely, and the only way to ensure this was to take off some seemingly healthy tissue and make certain that it was indeed uninfected and that the skin left was entirely good. Trini painstakingly cut, and as she finished, she began the more delicate work of examining the deeper tissues.

Scraping the blade along the inside of the wound, Trini removed the possibly infected cells along the surface as well as the necrotic matter that had accumulated. Glancing up to wipe a wisp of hair from her eyes, she noticed Bear closing her eyes and looking away, though never abandoning her grip on the other. Seeing Bear's revolt, Trini felt her own stomach turn. Thankfully, all that remained was to rinse and bandage the lacerations.

The two switched places for that task. Bear busied herself with tenderly trickling the precious fluid through the newly purged area and Trini inspected the lash marks on Tay's legs. Pleasure flooded Trini's features as she noted the scabbing and signs of normal healing. Running her hands around the marks, none of the telltale heat of an infection radiated into her fingertips. She felt the muscles jump suddenly, and she looked into the face of weeping Tay.

"I'm sorry." The words felt odd on her lips, almost eerily dated.

Tay blinked. A soft, wan smile caused her lips to barely turn up. "Thank you."

Trini cocked her head, questioning. "For the apology," clarified Tay. "And for all your help of course, but…" her voice trailed off weakly. Trini waited. "No one apologizes here," murmured Tay. "It made me feel…"

Trini felt inwardly that she ought to be able to complete the sentence, but for the life of her, she couldn't. She nodded her acknowledgement to Tay, and motioned to Bear, who had finished her ministrations. "Try not to press your back against anything," Trini instructed her patient, "it will help keep it from getting infected again." Tay met Trini's eyes, giving her consent to the advice. As Bear and Trini passed through the cell door, Trini heard a soft murmur.

"…human," it whispered. For the first time in her memory, Trini felt her eyes cloud with tears. The word felt homely, wonderful, and yet, Trini could not understand why it provoked such a deep reaction in her.

~*~

The palace was absolutely silent in the sweeping blackness that now passed as night upon Earth. Really, that was the way Rita preferred it. It had taken a while for her former servants such as Goldar to come to understand the concept of silence; however, a demonstration of her keen hand weaponry and skill in evisceration had certainly gone a long way in driving home the point. While the spell had done many things to mutate her personality while under its influence, her chronic, blinding headaches were one of the few things that had followed her through the spell and still remained. Right now, her head throbbed, and she shivered at a somewhat hazy remembrance of storming around the lunar castle shrieking about what a headache she had. What a fool they made me out to be!

Despite the pulsing pain in her temples, Rita wanted to think, and stalwart warrior that she was, she pushed the ache to the back of her mind and exerted a rigid control over her wandering thoughts. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she smiled slightly. She'd shed her ugly robes and conical hairstyle, and now dressed in a simple set of fitted dark robes with metallic linings that glittered despite their lack of color. Her hair fell in a straight flow down her back in a light shade, complimenting her pale skin. Viewing herself, she found herself pleased. Zedd, she knew, would have enjoyed such a pretty woman.

Thoughts of her late husband twisted the evil woman's lips slightly. Her liberation from the spell had been entirely accidental. An evil commander who wants to live ought to watch what he says to whom more closely. Walls have ears! I shouldn't to have killed that maid…what was her name? Aisen, I think. I should have rewarded her and made her one of my courtesans. I believe she was quite evil enough to have made an excellent commander. Truly a pity she caught me while still half enspelled and furious. Rita rolled her eyes slightly, making certain to keep her head very still so as not to shoot a blast of pain through her head that would come if she did so. I wonder if these headaches are some sort of dissonance from the spell or having my powers fluctuating so much.

Rita sighed softly, glancing into the mirror again. Even through her pleasure at being lovely again, the reflection jarred her slightly. It was too similar to another woman. Certainly, Rita's eyes, a dark black, were nothing like the other woman's. Yet the paleness of her own hair brought to mind the thought of the girl she'd tried to turn evil. Rita remembered her with a shudder. The cat fiasco still bothered her mildly, mostly because it wounded her pride and rankled her. Not like the Green Ranger at all, she remembered Tommy rather fondly actually. Would have been a sight better in my bed than Zedd! His unabashed evil made her proud. Spell-induced, of course, but the demonstration of his amazing capacity and aptitude for fighting forced her to give him at least a grudging respect as a fellow warrior. She still wished he'd been a woman at times, though. While Tommy was quite a handsome man, Rita had observed over the years that while men certainly ruled for strength, females, especially attractive ones, had a knack for disarming the leaders of opposition without firing a shot. A sweet, gorgeous woman, and all too many of those men are out in no time.

Naturally, even the better evil seductresses couldn't take out the best of the male strategists and leaders, since those tended to be more focused on their plans than on women or had friends that found out the deception and saved them, but Rita had been surprised at the number of successes she'd had. Rita wasn't above using her feminine wiles, after all, she'd tricked Zedd into marrying her to get back into the lunar palace. Of course, it hadn't been only Rita's love potion.

Zedd's spell came back to haunt him, she thought. Zedd had married Rita not only because of the love-potion Rita seduced him with, but also because his powers were being drained severely by his never-ending struggles with the Rangers. Poor old Zeddy might have been evil and nasty, but he wasn't much of a strategist – ever. Marrying Rita solved two problems. Zedd had worried that the spell, dependent on his and Master Vile's life forces, might be weakened by his constant power fluctuations. In addition, with Rita close, it made siphoning off her powers much more simple for him.

Wincing, she pursed her lips and put a hand to her throbbing head. If only my physiology worked like those humans' at least then I could take some blasted aspirin and feel better! Vengefully, Rita aimed a kick at a footstool within convenient striking distance. Listening to it crack against the wall, her vision went momentarily bright with pain at the loud noise, but she felt at least a bit more satisfied. Turning her thoughts back to her past, she briefly considered trying to find Katherine or Tommy. At least she'd be able to torment them. Bring back some of their memories of being evil, drive them crazy. Rita let out a soft but audible groan at that thought. What the hell happened to me? I've never found such things particularly entertaining. Necessary, but I usually made Goldar or Finster take care of it. If they couldn't, I did, but that was a matter of expediency, not of personal pleasure. That's the kind of thing those dregs like Zedd and Gasket would indulge in! I'm a warrior. I annihilate my enemies or find ways to make them useful. Torturing them for long times just gives them longer to be rescued or escape.

Having the former rangers alive made Rita uneasy even with their memories wiped clean. It made her even further ill at ease to have three still unaccounted for. If only I could just kill them…but they hold the key to this whole plan. I'd better check on the ones I have locations on soon. I don't trust those idiots I call foremen as far as I can kick them. The minute I don't have such a pounding headache, I believe I'll start. One thing Rita knew from experience was never, ever to underestimate an enemy. And she felt that any enemy was much better off dead. As soon as I'm finished with them, I'll kill them. The thought comforted her slightly.

~*~

The Do'an section of the mines was considerably more dangerous and uncomfortable than other segments. Here, several workers had drowned during rainstorms when the caverns flooded without warning. The dungeons for prisoners were close to the section as well, and thus, workers often heard the cries from those. The rock had some veins of softer rock in it, and it was only in this segment that a few shafts had actually collapsed, burying workers and foremen alike. In the very deepest regions, dug down hundreds and hundreds of feet – the deepest tunnels that existed in the entire operation – magma occasionally spewed out of cracks if an unfortunate worker chiseled too far. It was also incredibly hot in the confining space with the molten rock bubbling not far from the surface, something that had killed many more.

For the first time in his remembered existence, Adam found himself glad to be assigned to the section. The delicate chiseling he did took place in the top part of the mine where it was cooler, and down below, he could hear the sledges of the workers who were breaking rock to open up new shafts. Adam worked slowly. More slowly than was necessary certainly. It was his one little bit of defiance.

Hearing the foremen shout in the distance and the toll of a bell, he realized that his shift was over. Workers streamed past him. Most bent over, exhausted, the males' bare chests heaving, the women stained in sweat despite the cool air. Some were carried out by their comrades. One party that made its way past Adam bore a woman biting her lip so hard against the pain that a dark stream trickled out of one corner of her lips. He closed his eyes briefly against the hideous injury he saw: one of her legs was almost entirely severed. Shards of bone gleamed through the torn skin and muscle. Obviously, this had come from a cave-in of some sort, a sheer of rock crushing and tearing the flesh. Adam drew air in thinly through his nose, feeling faint and slightly nauseated. It was better than some of the burned workers he'd seen carried out, one man screaming, his foot still encased in hardened magma. Adam briefly drew his hands over his eyes to stop the images flooding his mind. This was not the time.

Taking a deeper breath, Adam staggered after the group carrying the woman. Once he found himself outside, he silently slipped towards an outcropping of rock that threw deep shadows in the darkness against the lighting by the entrance. Reaching the darkness and safety, he bent over and vomited as quietly as he could. Sweat broke out everywhere. Spasms shook his body. Feverishly, Adam pushed his hair off of his face where it clung to his damp forehead. Collapsing against the dusty ground, he hugged it for a moment. Briefly, the spinning in his vision stopped. The support of the hard ground felt wonderful against his body and back. Trembling, he gritted his teeth and forced himself back to his knees, working his way to his feet. When would he ever learn to turn the other way, he wondered. Yet he found that often, that was impossible. Something in his mind recorded the tragedies in such vivid details, feeding a deep resistance in him. Someone must remember these lives, he thought. But why must it be me?

Hearing a sound close to him, Adam dropped into a defensive position almost as second nature. A hand closed across his mouth, and he tried to yell. "Shhh," hissed a familiar voice.

Adam's instinct was to fight, but the hands released him and he calmed himself. "Tommy."

His eyes began to adjust to the darkness, and the slight form he could see nodded.

"What in the…" Adam paused for a moment, unable to remember the words to complete the expression moments before he felt he remembered. He thought rapidly for something exclamatory to make his point. "Crap!" he finally expelled forcefully, finding the word annoyingly inaccurate to represent his thoughts. "What was that commando maneuver all about?"

A silence for a moment. "What's a commando?"

"I…I don't know" Adam confessed. He vaguely remembered using the term, but for the life of him, he couldn't think exactly what it was tangibly. "A…a fighter," he finished lamely, giving what little he could and feeling a dual pronged emotion of both frustration at his lack of knowledge and excitement that he'd remembered that much.

"Oh." Tommy still sounded slightly confused. Rushing on, Tommy kept his voice low and steady. "I guess I wanted to make sure you weren't trying to set me up. You'd have been rewarded for doing it. I figured if you had, the least I would do was make sure to take you down with me."

Adam raised his eyebrows slightly. The distrust was palpable in the air. "I didn't bring anyone," he muttered defensively. "I didn't know if you'd show or not."

Both men glared for an instant at each other. A fight might have broken out if it hadn't been for a sudden movement Adam saw out of the corner of his eye. Adam drew in his breath sharply. "What?" hissed Tommy, rightly interpreting Adam's instant change in demeanor as indicative of a larger threat.

"Behind you!" whispered Adam, dropping his voice to the lowest he could, all enmity forgotten for the moment. Tommy whirled around. Even in the shadows, both could see a shadow, with a dash of pale contrasting with the dark rocks near what Adam surmised to be the head of the figure, making its way down the face of the rock the mine entrances were cut into.

Instantly, Tommy dropped to the ground, blending in the best he could, and Adam followed suit. Barely daring to breathe, they observed as the shadowy figure reached the ground. "What do we do?" Adam whispered.

"We can't escape without being seen," breathed Tommy. "There's only one, I think."

Adam glanced around. "Me too. We should probably incapacitate him or her and get out of here." The instantaneous suggestion of violence within his mind surprised Adam. Instinctively, he knew somewhere that he'd been told never to attack first. Pushing the thought aside, Adam let a steely determination flood him. In his mouth, Adam tasted a revolting metallic flavor that his mind told him was fear. Wiping it, he was surprised to see a dark smear appear against his pale arm.

"We'll attack…" Tommy paused, watching the figure draw closer and closer. "Now!" he hissed, springing forward.

Adam flung himself at the stranger. Tommy ducked low, aiming a sweeping kick at the figure's legs, sweeping them out. Within an instant, Adam grabbed at the neck, applying a hard pressure near the base, and on the sides in delicate pressure points, as he'd seen a foreman do to a particularly unfortunate worker. A strangled gasp rose from the intruder and then, silence.

Tommy reached down and listened for a moment for breath sounds. Hearing them, he stood back up and faced Adam. "We don't have much time."

Adam was still staring at the prone figure, feeling ever so slightly guilty, though relieved at being able to ascertain the identity of the intruder. Bending down suddenly, he examined the paleness that gleamed in the darkness, pushing his fingers into the mass. A silkiness flowed around his hand. Lifting it slightly, Adam saw strands fall back to the still stranger. A dirty, but lovely lightly skinned face came into view as Adam pushed back locks of hair.

Aghast, Adam looked up at Tommy's shadowed face. "This is a woman," he whispered softly. "One of our race. Not a monster."

Tommy knelt as well, studying the girl. "Oh!" he gasped suddenly. "I know this woman."

~*~

The cells of the main dungeons were eerily silent at night. No moans or cries issued from them, for the jailers tended to force the prisoners into silence at night. While Rita had no problem particularly with torture, the silence stricture had a basis in a bad experience. Several of the workers in the closest barracks, demoralized by the terrified cries of their own people, had finally staged the best resistance they could raise, which was not much, but enough to destroy several guards and foremen. Not caring if they lived or died, it had been mostly a suicide mission as Rita learned when Goldar dragged one conspirator back and forced him to talk.

The revolt was of little consequence in the larger picture, and quickly crushed, but several of Rita's favorite toadies were casualties. Primarily inconvenienced at that moment, but seeing a dangerous trend, Rita put an immediate stop to those inspired to mutiny. The regulations on prisoners' silence during the night when the majority of her workers were in their barracks was the first, but she'd also executed several innocent people in front of her population, ruling her regime with a the hardest rod she could.

Though unafraid of the workers, and always well armed with her weapon of choice, a thin dueling rapier with a beautifully ornamented handle, Rita rarely walked among her people alone and undisguised. Certainly, trained for years by the most skilled in hand to hand combat, with an arsenal not only including the sword, but also a pair of small but lethal daggers, a coiled whip, and a small laser pistol, all hidden on her person, Rita could handle any that tried to assassinate her. As it were, few actually knew the Empress' true appearance. If Rita appeared in public as herself when issuing orders or presiding over an execution, she wore a heavily ornamented long gown with long sleeves, an elaborate diadem, a collar that came up to her chin, and a veil that obscured her hair and forehead. During those occasions, she also had a large number of guards and henchmen surrounding her.

Yet now, Rita strode unobtrusively and alone. Her pale hair she plaited into small braids that she then coiled around her head, giving the appearance of a small cap, a popular style among female workers with long hair. Her formerly clean skin sported a layer of dust and a few obvious smudges. Under her eyes, a darker substance she'd applied gave the illusion of circles. Even her gown, though less ripped and dirty than the average woman's, still blended. Walking, small puffs of dust kicked up at Rita's feet, further staining the hem of her garment. Even dressed as she was, Rita exuded an air of authority in her posture and withering gaze.

Usually, Rita wanted to give an air of magnificence. Right now, though, she wanted no one, not even her closest, to know what she was doing. She didn't trust Goldar or even Finster to be able to approach the former Rangers without arousing suspicion. She had no intention of doing that. Even as she'd buried their colors, their memories, and everything associated with their former Rangerhood, one of the qualities that made Rita a powerful adversary was her attention to detail. "There must be nothing. Nothing. Nothing that could cause a memory to surface or bring back a familiar sensation." She muttered softly. Rita knew that she had to make sure her work continued unimpeded.

Glancing around sharply, Rita's dark eyes located the small entrance carved almost invisibly into the rock. She darted into the shadows, effectively disappearing, and then crawled through the tiny opening. When building the dungeons, Rita had had a few workers drill a hidden way in. Dispatching to their deaths the workers after their task was completed, she'd managed to keep it hidden through a network of spells, leaving Rita with an otherwise unknown way in. She'd been fairly proud of the feat, forced to rely on her own scant engineering skills. What she wouldn't have given to be able to pick the brain of her old enemy, the original Blue Ranger! Rita mused. The passage was uncomfortably small and narrow, but Rita persevered. Stepping silently down into a larger tunnel, she snuck towards the cell she'd ascertained the Ranger called Tanya to be in.

~*~

"I think I finally have the maps," announced Billy, walking into the room the trio appropriated. He began laying out the enormous sheets of paper on the floor.

"What are these?" asked Kim.

"Schematics, or blueprints if you will. Between the limited Power Chamber scanning resources and…well…" Billy sighed.

"And?" asked Jason.

"I hacked, to be blatant. Rita doesn't have a centralized database or many computers. And what little she had encoded onto what I recognize as technology stolen from the vanquished Machine Empire, she'd fragmented and scattered. Frankly, it's pretty sophisticated."

Jason frowned. "What do you mean, sophisticated? Neither Rita nor Zedd were much into technology as I remember, beyond Zedd building Serpenterra. Rita went more for spells and force fields. I mean, Finster built monsters out of clay for heaven's sakes."

"That's what I mean", said Billy, a worried look passing through his green eyes. "Either she's allied with someone, or she's a hell of a lot more intelligent than we ever gave her credit for."

"Zordon told us she was smart," Kimberly mused.

"I know, but guys, we're dealing with an adversary that now not only utilizes the Power, but also an immense amount of slave labor, some pretty advanced computer technology, and time and altering capabilities. Really, the only reason she doesn't use other means or more technological elements in her mining operations is that by focusing people into working and humiliation, she exerts better control. It's easier also than building an army of machines to do her dirty work, a la the Machine Empire. Not that she couldn't do it, it's just that she has an easy, expendable source of labor. She's also not about to give them technological implements that could be pulled apart and reformed as weapons."

"Shit." It was about the only thing Jason could come up with. This was not the Rita they'd dealt with as Rangers. Sure, Rita had been difficult at the time. Dangerous, too. But they'd always felt, or known even, inwardly, that they could keep her at bay. Even as the villains became stronger and tougher up to the Machine Empire, the Rangers had had some close scrapes, but never faced such an enemy. Jason rubbed his face. He was officially developing his first major headache.

Kimberly sat in an attitude of thought, studying the maps. "These are very extensive," she said, pointing at the mine tunnels.

Billy nodded. "From what I can gather, she's mining a specific crystalline element. It's a previously unknown element. I was able to steal a tiny sample, and this crystal is amazing. It's a wonderful conductor of power and holds it extraordinarily well. Not unlike the Zeo Crystal properties, except for a slightly different atomic structure, though in its raw form, the crystal isn't infused with powers."

Kim looked mildly confused. "I suspect she's going to make her own team of super warriors, even rangers. Even though she possesses an amazing amount of raw power, she can't transfer it until there's a medium to hold it. Like our power coins." Billy elaborated.

"Zordon infused those by himself?"

"Definitely. The Zeo Crystal as well, actually, is a very ancient work of Zordon's."

"How?"

"I've been pretty surprised. Zordon's a lot more powerful than we give him credit for. There are restrictions and rules for use of the power by beings other than Lei'risins. Simply, Zordon put his own powers into the coins and crystal, then created Ranger teams. Over several millennia, the Zeo Crystal and Green Morphin' Coin were lost."

"WAIT!" cried Kim suddenly at the mention of the Green Coin. "The colors. If the powers are linked to color, then how is Rita going to make Rangers?"

Jason nodded emphatically, following closely. Billy responded. "Simply put, she's not just yet. She'll have to restore color before she can create a team."

"How?" asked Jason. "Because, if we can restore the colors, then we could fight."

Billy drew a deep breath. "I honestly don't know. More bad news, guys. The thing is, we've gotten all we can out of the Power Chamber for the most part. There's not enough energy in the back-up cells to run more scans, and I doubt they'd do any good in any case. We need to make a decision."

Jason shook his head. "That's already been decided. We go out and find our friends."

"What are we going to do out there?" questioned Kimberly.

"Whatever we can. I don't know that it's much more than die alongside the others and take some henchmen down with us. But I'm hoping that we can scout around undetected for awhile, and maybe find a chink in Rita's armor. It's not a big chance, but what else can we do? At least we have some good information and our memories."

"I concur, Jason. It's our only chance."

"We never thought we'd beat Ivan Ooze!" added Kimberly confidently. "Sometimes, you've just got to try and pray and hope that it all works out."

Jason nodded. Billy cracked a smile. "Then we need to study these schematics and use the small reserve in the back-up cells that's not needed to keep Alpha and Zordon alive to synthesize a few supplies. We're pretty much out of time on the cells, and we'll have to leave soon."

"If we can," said Jason, "We'll shoot for departure in two days. Now, what are we going to need, and what's the geography."

The trio's voices rose and fell, audible in the main chamber. Zordon smiled. "We chose well," he remarked to the small robot.

To be Continued


"Ai-yi-yi, Zordon, I hope so. Ai-yi-yi-yi-yi!"


Well, thanks for reading! I'm planning to get that next chapter up soon. Feedback is always, always appreciated. If you want to email me, I'm at ladyevenstar120@yahoo.com. Thanks.