Author's Note: This story is told from Sky's perspective, and is also a prequel to 'Dependence'. I'm milking that story for all its worth. :)
- -
ReactionMost people can't see past the spandex. The bright, primary colors and the team poses—which yes, we do have to learn—draw a lot of comments, particularly taunting from our adversaries. But that's what we want; the design is as much a distraction as it is a tradition. These criminals know who we are, or at least they know the reputations of our predecessors. Some start running the moment we arrive to take them in. Others take time to jeer at and goad us. Both of these losses in focus work in our favor.
The suits aren't actually spandex, of course. They're an organometallic-energy fusion, created in a laboratory and able to function like a second skin as well as a detached barrier whenever we wear them. In our morphed state, they are literally a part of us. The surface feels like ordinary Lycra to the touch, but if you strike it, it's like smashing your hand against stone.
I did that once, when I was five. My dad said something that made me mad and I swung at him, mostly because I thought he wouldn't feel it while in his suit. That turned out to be only a half-truth. He felt it all right, but not nearly as much as I did. For my lack of discipline, I received a sprained finger, a sound lecture, and a week of no TV. That was the day I learned about the substance behind the innocuous-looking uniform.
Skill. Bravery. Honor. The desire to face trouble head-on.
I also decided my dad was like Superman. He became my living hero. Until he died.
There's absolutely no certainty in being a Power Ranger. Sometimes the situation turns out pretty mild, and we're called in only because of its potential to escalate into something more serious. An easy job is one classified as requiring only handcuffs. Most of the time we have to break out the other gear: the suits, the specialized weaponry, the battle vehicles, large or small. We have to be ready for anything, and in the worst of situations—which is different for every Ranger—we have to be ready to give up everything for the cause.
The outcome of any battle is determined by the decisions we make during it. Most are pure reflex, an instantaneous reaction. How to strike, what to save, when to squeeze the trigger. We can't just run out with all the force we've got because though our powers are arguably unlimited, our endurance is not. We have to maintain a certain amount of strength to keep our morph intact, and the more power we use, the stronger we have to be.
On one fateful assignment, we were dealing with a criminal who had somehow gotten his hands on a class D nuclear firearm. Its primary function was to shoot high-impact, high-energy blasts, but a side effect of the type of energy it emitted was something akin to low level radiation poisoning. Unprotected civilians in a one-block radius were falling sick to varying degrees whenever the weapon was fired, so our first priority was to clear the area. We had to isolate our target ASAP.
Our suits protected us from the effects of the energy, but the blast itself still packed a punch. It wasn't long into the battle before a bunch of Troobians predictably showed up, and so the team got a bit separated in the fight. I saw that no-good terrorizer lowering his weapon at Syd's turned back, and I didn't think. I just ran. I reacted.
Ranger suits are designed to absorb an enormous amount of impact, in the event that we have to play human shield for some hapless citizen. Or as in that case, a fellow team member. We were both knocked into a wall ten feet behind us with brutal force, though my uniform had borne the brunt of the attack. She grunted as she was momentarily pinned between me and wall before we fell to the ground. She seemed stunned but unhurt. I, however, had had the wind knocked out of me entirely. It felt like someone had punched me in the lungs without my suit on, and I was disorientated enough for my morph to break.
Instantly Syd was trying to shield me with her body, probably from further attack and the energy particles that were no doubt zipping through the air. I saw the villain leveling his weapon at us again, and I had no intention of getting sick, so I did the only thing I could think of, the thing I could only do in civilian form. I put up a forcefield. I made it as big as I could manage so as to give Syd some cover while also protecting myself as much as possible from the energy particles. I was going to need at least another minute before I could gather enough strength to morph again.
The bastard wasn't going to wait until I felt better. He squeezed off another shot almost immediately, but not before Jack and the others could interfere. The blast went wide, hitting the upper rim of my forcefield and no where near Syd and I.
At least, that was the last thing I saw. I can't be sure what happened because the world suddenly flashed a brilliant white and it felt like my head had exploded. Very dimly I could hear Syd calling my name, but the world went from white to pitch black in an instant, and my awareness of her and everything else around me just blinked out.
- -
Author's Comments: I believe this is the first story in this set to be told from Sky's POV rather than Syd's. That is because I find Sky's voice notoriously hard to characterize. I'd like to know what people thought of this tentative peek inside his head.
