SPD: Alien
2025 – Newtech City, Earth
The Predator silently watched his opponent. He had been tracking him for fifteen minutes, or was it more? His eyes watched the humanoid move through the darkened alleys, glancing back as if it were seeing its pursuer. Every twenty metres or so, he would follow his prey, hiding in the shadows to avoid detection. He had to give the humanoid creature credit, of course – for its jumbled track had thrown off most of the trackers, except him. He was at the top of his game, he knew the back ways like he knew the back of his hand. Looking up, the Predator decided that the best way to pursue would be the rooftops.
Creeping up to an external fire ladder, he peered through the gloom, trying to make out its shape. A long, tapering head – check. Two strong and powerful arms tipped with deadly claws – check. Strong muscles that lay under its relatively thin frame – check. A tail topped with deadly spikes – check. Reaching up with one hand, he yanked on the ladder, wincing as a loud screech of rusted metal cut through the stillness of the pre-dawn air. He looked around furtively, trying to see if his quarry knew he was being followed. Nothing up ahead, except silent footfalls that heralded the escape of his target. Inwardly, the Predator swore to himself. He would have to work extra hard now to not wake the still sleeping citizens. He swung his body up the ladder, rung by rung, looking down into the darkened alley. Finally reaching the top of the building, he looked ahead and squinted as the rising sun shone into his tinted visor.
He was all alone. His team had long since given up the chase, some lay wounded and awaiting treatment. Most had given in due to sheer exhaustion. None had managed to catch up to the alien, except him. He ran across rooftops to catch up with his fleeing prey. He readied his weapons, itching for a fight. He skidded to a halt at the end of the block and looked down.
There – some ten storeys below – was his prey, standing out in the open, waiting. For him. He knew it. He wasn't escalating the fight – the alien already had. The Predator knew it had to pay for its crimes. Without any flashy moves or cunning yells, he levelled his rifle at the creature. Its lips pulled back, revealing rows and rows of sharp teeth, snarling at the figure on the roof. Without even a firing call, two blasts of red plasma shot from the barrel of the weapon, engulfing the alien in fire. Strangely, despite the explosion, the creature still lived. Cocking his head, in minor confusion, the Predator pulled out another device and pressed the button on top.
Another plasma bolt issued forth and struck the weakened alien head on, warping its matter in ways the Predator didn't know. Actually, he did, but never went into the fine details of it. A flash shone out from the alien's position and the creature vanished. The predator leapt from the roof to the ground, walking over to pick up a small card. In the strengthening light, the alien yelled out and beat its hands on the seemingly plastic material of the card. Underneath his helmet, the predator smirked and then looked around at the park he was in. A quick check of his map showed that he was just a few blocks from where he had started tailing the beast.
He chuckled and stared at the green alien contained in the card. He was glad Jabarix had been caught before becoming too much of a threat. He stood there for a moment, screaming criminal in his hand and looked up to the sky, before activating his transponder signal and waiting.
As the residents sleepily woke up that morning, they were treated to a sight. Smack in the middle of their local park, standing triumphantly, was the predator.
The predator was really not some alien hunter from a distant world, but a common street thief who was turning his life around. More importantly, he was carrying a legacy that stretched back more than thirty years. A legacy that had changed the lives of the people intertwined in it forever.
He was a Power Ranger. The latest incarnation of a team that had protected Earth since the days of Rita Repulsa. Their enemy wasn't like the ones he had read in the archives – not some freaky space ninja, not some insane pirate and certainly not a person made from purple ooze. Instead, it was a warlord, capable of immense power and destruction. A dictator who had an army of criminals and robots at his fingertips. And from what little he had seen of him, a nearly infinite supply of energy. Emperor Grumm was the name on everyone's lips these days. Not Rita, Not Mondo, not even Scorpius – but it was a name that had people shaking in fear.
He was more than just a Power Ranger. No, he had surpassed being a thief long ago. Now, he was the Red Ranger. Jack Landors was his name, and at nineteen, he was a force to be reckoned with. He led the B Squad Rangers – Sky Tate, Syd Drew, Z Delgado and Bridge Carson – into battle after battle against Grumm's forces. Now, criminal in hand, he stood there, fully morphed into his Ranger Armour – waiting for his squad to find him – he was wishing for some more action.
If he knew what lay ahead, he wouldn't have made that wish.
TBC…
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