Authors Note: As the summary says this is an AU story. I takes place after Green With Evil and I take over from their. Tra' is an original on unique character I hope you guys enjoy him. Please take time to leave a review, they are HIGHLY appreciated. Tra is pronounced Trey and has no relation to any PR characters the similarity of his name is a pure coincidence.

Legal Disclaimer: In now way shape or form do I own PR, and this is for no profit purposes entertainment only. But I do own Tra'.

Destiny

Chapter One: Meet Tra'

Earth/America/ N.J./ Dimension 1/ April 6, 2005

It was a gorgeous spring afternoon. Nearly if not perfect. The grass was a healthy green, the sky blue, and the sun was shining. On the recently and neatly trimmed grass a couple dozen of teens huddled closely together in the formation of a circle, in the vacant town park.

Two young unarmed combatants faced each other inside the circle, ready to battle. The teens did not fight for a side such as good or evil. Nor did they fight for love or hate. They fought for a more barbaric purpose, they would bloody each other up for entertainment. The shorter of the two a fair skinned blond haired teen name Tra' bowed to his opponent. During school hours the two were friends, they would say hello to each other as they passed in the hallways.

But on this day neither Tra' or Bobby were friends nor were they enemies. Simply they were warriors in the ring. Once Tra' completed his bow to Bobby, the reality as you and I know it left him. He was in the Zone. In his regularly hectic existence this state of mind coined the zone was sanctuary for him.

From day one, literally, life was never easy for Tra'. At birth he almost died due to complications. At the age of four his abusive mother left him, in the third grade his father vanished leaving him and his four step-siblings with his stepmother.

To this very day it seemed every person Tra' loved or cared about either betrayed or left him. Times were hard and money was thin. Tra' would never admit it, but his problems forever plagued him. He would deny they were there. Letting them build, and at times they would overflow and explode. He would break down, to only rebuild his castle stronger, more fortified than ever. Able to contain more pain and less joy.

Tra' smiled as the round ended. Every match consisted of three, three minute rounds. He had just lost the first one to Bobby. It was no accident. Through out the round he had let Bobby feel him out, letting his opponent get used to his style, speed, reactions, and his skill. Unknown to Bobby he was being tricked for Tra's was not going his fastest, not using his talent, nor was he using his regular approach to combat. He was painting a portrait for Bobby, a false portrait. When the second round commence he would continue to paint this picture of lies. In the middle of the second round when Bobby became less timid and as his confidence grew, along with his ignorance. He would unleash hell.

The two young gladiators engaged in combat as the brief intermission ended. Tra' as planned continue to paint his masterpiece of deception throwing a slow right hook, which Bobby easily ducked, countering with a shot to Tra's ribs.

He knew the blow should have hurt. It probably did, and possibly later he would feel it. As for new he did not. True for his age he had a respectable pain endurance, but the real reason why his ribs were not soar was for he was in the zone. In the zone one feels next to nothing. With adrenaline pumping through your veins all you can see, hear, and feel is your opponent.

Bobby continued to dominate the round, when all of a sudden he froze. He would never recognize why he did so. He stared with a mix of fear and confusion into Tra's eyes. Impossible as it sounds, they seemed to change. Half the round was over. Snapping back to focus he was barely able to block a punch aimed for his face, leaving his side exposed in the process. This was exactly what Tra' wanted, his feint had worked. In the blink of an eye he delivered a devastating round house to Bobby's torso. Later Bobby would realize he was lucky that all his insides were still intact.

Foolishly Bobby let his instincts take over clutching his side whimpering in pain, giving Tra' yet another opportunity. Showing no mercy for his adversary he delivered a flying knee to the chin and dropped him hard with a sharp elbow.

For minutes the crowd remained silent as they watched Bobby lay on the blades of grass.

"Up!" Tra' commanded, adrenaline pumping dangerously through his veins. "You came here to fight, did you not? Then fight!" Tra' roared, kicking the limp body.

Helplessly Bobby screamed his body shook at the blow. Two of his friends emerged and picked him up, guiding him into the crowd.

"Next! Who wants to fight?" He asked in the arena literally constructed of men.

No one answered.

"That's enough for you today," Rob, Tra's friend stated. Rob lived two blocks away from the park and it was he who suggested it being used as the location of their fight "club". "You've already tore three guys up, let someone else have a-go."

"Fine," Tra' said his anger beginning to leave, his adrenalin was starting to plummet, and he began to feel pain. Leaving the zone in one sense his mind cleared and in another it became clouded. "Is Bobby okay?"

"Would you be okay if the force of a car crash hit you in the ribs?" Laughed Rob. Giving an uneasy laugh he headed out of the ring, past the crowd where a bruised Bobby lay.

"You okay man?" asked Tra'. Bobby weakly nodded. Reaching into his blue sports bag he recovered a bottle of chilled water. "Drink this man, you will feel better. Listen Bobby, you fought good." Tra' tried and unsuccessfully to crack a joke and smile.

Sadly things like this did occur, sometimes people could get hurt. He didn't mean to hurt them, he just wanted to fight. To be in the zone. It was like a high for him. Last summer an idea popped into the teens head, a vision of a fight club. Tra' had always had a unusual obsession with fighting, as a little kid he could remember being disciplined for shutting few bullies mouths closed with his fists. His idol was non other than Bruce Lee. He knew the core of his obsession and to many he would not reveal it.

It wasn't until the winter when he began to think seriously of a fight club. At first it was a little event he hosted with a few friends. Just a bunch of pals fooling around beating the crap out of each other. Nothing big. Word grew around the school, more and more people approached him asking to join. And he let them.

The event grew and eventually it was to large to do in his basement. Luckily it was warm outside and the park was rarely occupied.

Feeling slightly guilty he left Bobby, the crowd immediately made an opening for him so he could watch the fight. Though most would not admit it, they feared and respected him. They realized he was a warrior, far above their level.

Rob was fighting now. Rob was a grade below Tra's but he was taller. Rob faced a new student in Tra's grade, a slightly pudgy Russian kid. Igor was is name, and shit talking was his game. From personal experience Tra' learned those who talked, could walk, but not this kid. Rob was making this Igor fellow eat his words.

The walky-talky clipped to his back jean pocket beeped. Picking it up he raised it to his mouth and asked. "Darshon, what's up?"

"Shit man the cops are coming in your direction!" The voice addressed over the communication device alarmed.

"How close are they?"

"Pretty close, man."

The problem with having an underage fight club, though fun it's most likely illegal.

Tra' rushed into the battle ground interrupting the fight between Igor and Rob. The crowds disappointment was well voiced, some even booed.

"guys the cops are on the way. Let's split!" The boos ceased and teens ran disappearing from the park running in different directions. Rob lived two blocks away so a few of them crashed their for a while.

Tra and the others knew the cops had some what of an idea of what was going on. They've almost been caught on numerous occasions. Almost. Luckily they'd always have a couple of guys spread across town keeping an eye out for trouble. Tra' had no idea what the penalty was for having an underground, underage fight club and he had not intention of finding out.

A few hours later at Rob's house Darshon gave a long approving whistle after hearing the account of Tra's fight from Rob.

Stretching in the warm Sunday sunlight, Darshon laughed. "Sup wit' you man? I though you taekwondo guys couldn't fight. I thought all those kicks and stuff were just for show."

"Not if you know how to properly use them. Remember it's not the style what determines the outcome of a fight, it's the person," Defended the warrior teen.

"Forgive me for my ignorance grasshopper," Darshon joked pretending to bow.

"Shut up," Laughed Tra' playfully punching his friend.

"Seriously dude, we don't need another lecture on the philosophy of fighting," Rob said.

For a while all was quite, each teen content with their own thoughts. The sun beating down on the back of their bare necks was more than relaxing. They sat upon chairs on top of Rob's wooded deck, sipping on iced tea.

"Tra', fighting is fun for all of us," began Robb ending the silence, "But for you man, you take it to a different level. Darshon you've ever been to his house?"

"Yea, why?"

"Look at his bookshelves, walls, favorites list, movie collection they are all filled with things that have to do with fighting, martial arts, Bruce Lee, weight lifting, nutrition, UFC, or something like that. Fighting is a therapy of sorts for us all, for you it's a drug. You live off that shit, isn't their anything else you want to do?"

In his mind he asked himself: What else is there? Te fact was he had no passions, no motivation, life was cold. Tra' didn't have a girlfriend, though he wouldn't mind having one. He was smart though his grades didn't reflect it. In school he did not try doing the least amount of work as possible.

He had the same motivation and drive towards life, it seemed all irrelevant and useless. Rob's concerns didn't bother him much, he had been lectured constantly on his behavior and grades. Lately he had began tuning it all out.

No one could get through to him.

"You know when you should have been born," Darshon said. "You know Maximus from the Gladiator, that's you dude."

"Seriously what do you want to do?" Asked Rob choosing to ignore Darshon.

Tra' let out a sigh. He knew what he wanted to do but he could not tell them. "I don't know, I am only fifteen let me live my life and see what happens."

"You may not realize but your life is going to go faster than you expect it to," Lectured Rob.

Tra' simply shrugged.

"Rob shut the fuck up, we don't need your Dr. Philin' us" Darshon added.

"I'm just saying," Rob said in defense.

Changing the subject Darshon chuckled. "Hey, you think Bobby is ever coming back?"

"That's not funny. I feel bad for what I did. I know it's a sport and we all know the consequences. But, when you hurt someone that bad you tend to feel bad about it."

"Darshon, why'd you have to break up my fright?" accused Rob.

"Sorry man next time I'll just leave you there for the cops."

"Screw you, I don't see you fighting anymore. When was the last time you fought?" Rob questioned.

"Wit' Jake, you remember that. I whopped his ass."

"Darshon," Laughed Tra', "Jake weighs ten pounds."

"I'm telling ya'll that little motherfucker is fast."

Out of all Tra's friends he was probably the closest with Darshon. Darshon was an average height black teen who's father scavenged just enough money to move out of his gang filled neighborhood where Darshon grew up.

The friendly banter continued every once and a while Tra' would add his two cents, but for the most part he just listened.

Darshon ended the joking when he reminded Rob of how bad he "schooled" him in their last fight.

When the insults ceased and all was quite, Tra' announced: "Jen asked me to the April Ball."

"Yo man, I thought you were over her," Darshon said.

"Your just hurting yourself every time you open your heat to her!" Rob warned.

"For once I got to agree with Dr. Phil over here," Darshon said.

"Shut up she asked me!"

Tra' was never one to feel sorry for himself, in fact he hated doing so. But there was a hole in his heart, a deep sadness. As a kid he tried pretending his problems did not exists. As he got older he played around with drugs, nothing big mostly just pot, once and a while cocaine, also for a while got hooked on ADHD medications and various other pills. He was over that now. Now he had the fight club.

The troubled teen always had the delusion that he had a soul mate; a love molded in the heavens, and that this person would fill the dark void in his soul. A fool he was; a fool in search of love. A search for someone who could always be there for him, a person he could turn to when he was in dire need of help. And he to could do the same, be her night in shining armor.

True love was just a fairy tale, something you saw in cheesy drive through movies, or read about in overpriced novels with Fabio's recently waxed chest on the cover. He was never one to through his heart carelessly in the wind. For the two years he had been attending his new school he had been pursuing this goddess name Jen. They were somewhat friends, but he still did not have the courage to ask her out.

The April Ball was the freshmen event of the year. It was a school dance that took place on the last day of April. People would find their lovers and dance the night carelessly away.

Tra had not planned on going. He intended to spend the nigh in a romantic depression doing nothing. Much to his surprise Jen approached and asked him to the dance, more surprising was how he responded carelessly saying "Yes," and returning to back to his school work like he didn't care. But on the inside he felt like exploding. It was to good to be true.

It was to good to be true.

"We warned you," sighed Rob.

"Darshon, who are you going to the dance with?'' asked Tra'.

"Alyssa, I'm telling you I'm going to tap that ass!" sarcastically he added, "To bad you can't come and hang with the big freshmen boys."

Looking at Tra' he said, "With the way your grades are going me and you should be going to the freshmen dance together next year."

Tra' gave a look of question, not catching on.

"What I'm saying is that your going to have to repeat ninth grade over again you dumb-shit," he laughed.

Earth/America/ N.J./ Dimension 1/ April 6, 2005

Later that night before he went to bed he recorded the day event in his spiral notebook a.k.a. his diary.

He kept a journal for an odd reason he didn't understand. The blue eyes teen had a feeling, a feeling he was going to leave behind a great legacy. Realistically he knew such thinking was foolish, especially with the way he was going. On this self destructive path, he would be lucky if he ended up as a janitor.

It was 11:30 pm by the time he settled down and was ready for bed. He would lie there for a couple more hours then drift into sleep. Tra' loved this time of day or night, for it was his. Most of the world was asleep while he lay awake. Alone. He had the world to himself.

When Tra' awoke the next morning it was dark out, it was 6:00 am and the birds were chirping as they searched for food.

"Fuck day lights saving time," he cursed missing his hour of sleep, not to say he didn't appreciate his extra hour of day light.

Blindly he pulled out a white sleeveless shirt and a pair of black jeans. His eyes half open he stumbled into the shower. Turning on the hot water which relaxed his soar muscles. He looked to his side and surely enough the imprint of Bobbies fist left a black and blue. Not to go in unnecessary detail he commenced with his morning rituals for preparing for school.

He slung his black backpack over his shoulder and begun to head up the street where his bus stop was located. He shivered; there were still remnants of the nights cold lingering in the air.

During school he zoned most of it out, not paying attention to what his teachers said. Who really cares about the important ace of Shakespearean potential tragedy, he though listening loosely to the words of Mr. Benny. Who even really cares about some fag who died two hundred years ago. Tra' was sure the guy was brilliant and did a lot for English literature, but Tra' did not have the patience to read one of his plays. He'd chose Dagmar Buse over William Shakespeare any day.

Every so often Mr. Benny's bald head would reflect light as he chuckled to himself while he made fun of his students generation. Which was kind of weird considering he wasn't that much older than them. Even more annoying then Mr. Benny's failed attempt to be humorous was the fact that he would always claim to be an amateur Shakespearean scholar. Mr. Benny wasn't so bad.

Tra' supposed all schools were the same. For some reason they were all conforming to the new "hip" idea of round tables that could seat four or more students, they all had crappy cheap marble floors, and poorly painted wall clustered with inspirational and frankly gay posters, and the only time one was read is when a student was on the verge of insanity and needed to something occupy their boredom with.

The clock seemed to taunt him, moving ever so slowly . Every five seconds his eyes would glance at it. Palms sweaty, stomach full of butterflies he awaited fourth period history class taught by Mr. Robison whom had become a pervert in his old age. The class wasn't to bad mainly because Jen along with her annoying friend Karen were usually his partners. After first period English he had to endure ninety more minutes of torture. Forty five of those minutes devoted to Latin another forty five towards health education.

How he did so, not even he knows. Finally the bell rang, students rushing out of the classroom sick and disturbed from seeing pictures of sexual organs that had contracted mutilating STD's. Tra' always believed they should change the name of Health Education to Scare the Shit Out Of You Education. Though it took ages to arrive fourth period was finally here.

Technically going only as "friends" Jen asking Tra to the dance boosted his confidence. Like a lot of boys Tra' was timid around the opposite sex. Afraid to say something stupid, or even worse let his mouth run and be an ass.

Entering room 202 he was the first to arrive, taking his regular seat in the back table in the corner of the room. His waiting ceased as did his heart as Jen walked through the door. She was two inches taller than he standing at 5'8. Her complexion was dark and exotic due to her Cuban and Turkish ancestry. Here eyes were her most notable feature, big and beautiful, her body was toned and lean; she was a dancer.

"Hey Jen," he said his pearly white smile broadening as she took the seat next to him. "How's it going?"

Upon asking this her face glowed and she giggled a little telling him she had something important to share.

"Yea what?" Later he would regret asking.

"Tra', I hope you understand. I'm probably sure you will. I can't go to the dance with you."

His spirits plummeted like a white falcon soaring the blue sky as a king, only to be shot down by a hunter. His stomach tenses, his fist clenched underneath the table, but his face remained calm. He had to keep cool.

"Oh," he said casually, "Why not?"

"Well.. My friend Mike who I've been friends with forever. But I kind of…. Like him more than as a friend. So I asked him to the dance and he said, YES!"

"That's awesome! I am sure you two our going to have a great time!"

"So your not mad?"

"No, no everything's cool. I wasn't going to go in the first place."

For the next forty five minutes his depression grew deeper and darker as Jen talked non-stop about her tall, dark, and handsome friend whom would be her date to the dance. For the next few periods if one looked into his eyes they could see the hurt. He weathered school paying less attention than usually. When the final bell rang he went to the big yell school bus that would drop him off at the top of his street.

It was a Monday, normally on Mondays he could be found lifting weights at the gym. But not to day his broken heart just didn't have the will.

Around 3:00 pm he got home from school, going directly on the computer. Signing online he looked paranoid around the room, he didn't want anyone to see what he was looking at.

Why did he love fighting so? How was he so captivated? Few people knew the reason. In the early nineties a children's television show aired. From day one he became hooked. The plot of the show was that the world was being taken over by an evil witch named Rita Repulsa who escaped from her dumpster prison. A wise wizard name Zordon (who is trapped in an dimensional time warp) along with his robot servant Alpha 5 recruited five teenagers to battle the forces of evil: Jason, Billy, Zack, Trini, Kimberly, and later Tommy was added to the team. Each ranger had an individual zord that when brought together would make the megazord. While keeping peace in the town of Angel Grove, they struggled to maintain their normal lives as high school students.

Tra' no longer watched Power Rangers. Not the new episodes at least. Power Rangers were still on. But it wasn't the same show. Every year the cast, the powers, and the zords would change. And he was sick of the change wanting the original back. Luckily he had a computer where he could download the old episodes and more.

The shows plot was often crappy and inconsistent, the dialogue was unrealistic, and the overall production was cheap. But the show had him hooked, he loved how they were a team, almost family. He was also attracted to the fact they were regular teens living regular lives but they at the same time had a huge secret with a huge responsibility. A more physiological reason why he was still obsessed with the show is that Power Rangers was a shining light in his childhood of darkness.

Power Rangers influence him even more than he would admit. Power Rangers was the reason he had an earring, the reason why he lifting weights, and the reason he took martial arts. The most influential aspect of Power Rangers for him was Kimberly and Tommy's relationship. He envied them. He wished he could have such a fairly tale romance filled with untamed love.

"Maybe I'm hopeless, maybe I need to learn how to give up. When will I realize such love does not exist," he thought out loud.

A sigh full of depression was let out, signing off the internet his excuse of a mother was home for he could hear his little brother unrightfully being yelled at.

"Same Shit, Different Day," He said, closing the door to his room shot. Cutting the world off from him.

Earth /America/ Angel Grove/ Dimension 2/ March 2, 1994

Tommy leaned back in his chair smiling to himself after watching the news. They had a special a report on the new green ranger who unexpectedly was now fighting for the side of good. Though things started hectic at first he was happy his parents had made the decision to move to Angel Grove.

Honestly he was having the best time of his last these past couple of weeks. Now that he wasn't under Rita's control anymore. He could finally put his martial art ability to use and fight the forces of evil. Unexpectedly in the process he had found love.

He couldn't believe it, someone wake him up he was a power ranger! His new teammates were pretty cool. He wasn't much of a group person he preferred to keep to himself, but he still liked them a lot. He just hoped they didn't mistake his shyness for rejection. But out of the five he was most fond or infatuated with Kimberly. She was beautiful.

The prospect of a power ranger romance made him chuckle. Angel Grove had the April Ball coming up, he would ask her to that… if he could summon the courage. His stomach filled with butterflies just thinking about it. It was funny being an accomplished martial artist should give him all the confidence he needed but it didn't. Even more puzzling was the fact he was now a power ranger and he STILL had these self-esteem problems.

He let out a cry, grabbing his side in pain. His mind went blank he couldn't think. He was in agony. He stumbled out of his chair trying to make his way out of the room.

"Mom…Dad….help," He meant to yell but it came out as a whisper. He went to grasp the brass handle of his door but collapsed onto the ground. His body writhed in pain. His mouth gaped open unable to scream. The spasms ceased when his eyes flashed green.

Earth/Africa/ Dimension 2/ March 2, 2004

A shadowy figure draped in dark cloaks lit the last of the candles that illuminated the room. Upon the walls were mysterious symbols of language long lost to man. The candle light bounced off the hooded figures strong features. A guardian of the planet he alone sensed the coming danger. The prophecy was soon to be fulfilled.

He consulted Zordon whom had dismissed his concerns. The wise sage told him not to worry and that such things were irrelevant as of now. He did not believe in the threat telling him it was not time. The ancient guardians words should have soothed him. In fact for a while they did; he left the command center feeling embarrassed and foolish, how could he make such a juvenile error in judgment. Especially in front of the legendary Zordon. The sage was right.

But the nightmares didn't stop, each passing day they became more vivid full of terror. The threat could not be denied. The prophesy was coming into fulfillment. Zordon did not believe this to be so, and he couldn't waste anymore time convincing him he was wrong. It would take to long.

Going against the council he would take matters into his own hands. In a temple far from civilization he kneeled on his knees reciting an ancient forbidden incantation. A sword with a golden handle levitated before him encased in an heavenly glow. As with the scroll from which he was reciting the spell, he stole the sword from the council. He risked punishment and even expulsion from the council. But the dreams could no longer be ignored.

He hoped he was wrong. He prayed he was wrong. But for now what must be done, must be done. The chosen one had to be summoned.