You gave me somethin' more…than, I ever felt before
We could be fallin' in love… oh, baby…
A yellow-clad woman softly sang, strumming the tune on her guitar. How long had it been since she'd had cause to actually use the thing for an audience? Five years? Yeah, that was about right. It was all very well to talk about the romance of being an artistic singer, but hunger pangs could shatter that one real quick. Cat litter jingles had seemed so amusing a year into her career.
Five years in, they were less than funny. By ten, they were just depressingly routine.
The really funny thing? Kira Ford hated cats. Yeah, real funny. I'll probably die laughing at that one. The mighty Dino Thunder Yellow Ranger, high school prom star. Reduced to singing in commercials and waitressing. Of all the people to burn out on high school dreams, I never thought it would be me, Kira thought bitterly, which was her usual mood nowadays.
What had happened? Where had it all gone wrong? When had the girl, full of hope and talent, fallen into a pit of mediocrity and sullenness? When had the record labels swirling before her eyes been changed into food stamps? When had the life(so defining of her in high school) gone out?
She would have liked to blame it on her Ranger career. Her Power loss. And heck, the depression that had come with loss of her Ranger powers had probably not helped. But she wasn't going to foist her problems off on a yellow gem's glow. No, she had crashed her career. Crashed it by starting it, crashed by thinking she had any talent. Hey, she'd saved the world, wooed her high school with her skills. Fame and fortune were just a step away, right?
And so she ends… Kira Ford. Strumming a guitar, reliving high school dreams.
For the thousandth time, she considered giving up. Trying college again. Trying to get a decent job, accepting her lack of talent. Except that that really WOULD be the end. Admitting she'd wasted the best part of her life on a dead end, that her last worthwhile act had been done in yellow spandex.
You want to start cutting yourself, too, Ford? She'd heard some dumb kids were bringing that habit back into style. She shook her head. Enough stewing. Tomorrow, she was DEFINITELY going to look into that gig down at the "After Dark". She would. And then-
Kira Ford turned around at the sound of her doorbell. It was the middle of the night, who would call up a pathetic has-been like her at such an hour? Enough, she sternly warned her self-deprecation. If it's those two morons from across the hall…Well, one thing Kira HAD kept up from the old days was her martial arts training. She picked her way across the debris on the floor to open the door, which revealed…
"Trent?"
The white-clad man smiled at her. "Hey, Kira". Trent Mercer, the only member of their little clique to come out on top in life. His father had early on left the running of Mercer Industries to him, and Trent had enjoyed the life of a rich businessman ever since. Though now that Kira looked at him, he didn't look that great either. Dark circles under his eyes, a tired pose. Yeah, he was in the same hole as the rest of them. Just with more money.
"How long has it been? Two years?", Kira asked. "Yeah, that sounds about right. At the, um, new plant opening where Hayley's used to be". Kira winced at that. It had not been an easy decision for Trent, and he'd consulted them about it. Hayley had been long gone, in New York, but the place had sentimental value, as well as the land's monetary value. But, they'd all agreed, that maybe burying the past would help. Not that it had, or anything, but it had been a thought at the time.
Trent ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm sorry about that. It was a mistake to do it. I guess…". Kira held a hand up. "We all did. Never mind that now. It's 1 am. Was seeing the old war comrade so important?". "Uh… Believe it or not Kira, yes. Have you been feeling… different lately?".
Different? Especially depressed, maybe, but since when was that new? In a life of….
Stop that. Enough.
"What do you mean?"
"Like… feeling the loss more?"
Well, if he put it that way…. Yeah, that might be her latest melancholy fit.
"Maybe. Why?"
Trent gave her a rakish grin, the kind that had been so endearing back in high school. He then backed up against the wall of her apartment… and disappeared. "Trent!", Kira yelped. Before she could even panic, though, he'd reappeared, his grin broader. What? "Some… new technology?", she guessed weakly. But she could see what he meant. Wetting her lips, she closed the door, faced an old ornament she'd been meaning to get rid of…
And screamed. Screamed the scream of the Ptera Ranger. And for the first time in over two decades…. it was truly that. A yellow wave erupted from her mouth, shattering the ornament and the shelf behind it. Oops.
"W-w-what?", Kira stammered weakly. "But it's… gone. That day…". Trent pressed a finger to her lips. "I know. Conner called me a few days ago with the same revelation. But…. The Gems seem to be back. We don't know how, we don't know why. But they're back".
For the first time in a very long time Kira Ford smiled, the expression taking years off her face. "And so are we".
"What do you mean, you're leaving!", the man in front of him said incredulously. "James, you came in, you BEGGED for this job. Said you needed it. Now a month in, and you want to leave?".
Ethan James regarded the man in front of. Yeah, he supposed it didn't make sense. He didn't really care. "You could just grant me a leave of absence instead. I wouldn't mind. But I need to take off for a while, either way". Which was perfectly true. "No, James, not without a good reason. And you refuse to give me one at all!", his boss replied, still disbelieving. Uh, let's see. I need to go to Newtech City to get my old Ranger power back, since I've been feeling its lack for twenty years. Oh, yeah, Boss, didn't I tell you? I was a Power Ranger. Yeah, that was great. AA would get back on his ass for drinking in the middle of the day for that one.
"Look… I can't explain it. But I need to leave", Ethan tried one last time. Mr. Reinhart was unmoved. "You have until you leave my office, James, to go back on that. Afterwards, this firm and my favors are closed to you. Your last chance, you called this job. You want to throw it away for some reason you won't even explain? Fine. Don't come crawling back later".
The former Blue Ranger got up. He slowly, steadily, walked out the door, ignoring his boss's final calls. Scratch another job off the list. Though he supposed this was the first time his Ranger past had been so directly responsible for it. Usually, it was a bit less blatant. He'd be discovered in some unsavoury activity, or show up for work drunk, or just walk out, run away. And there'd always be some short-term reason for it. Only he knew the long term reason. The emptiness. The hole he'd been carrying inside him ever since high school. A hole about the size of a Triceratops horn.
"Taxi!", he yelled, flagging one down. He'd get home, he'd pack a bag and run. But this time, it wouldn't be away. It would be towards. Towards a new life, towards being alive again. Towards the Blue Dino Gem. This is moronic. If he had even a gram of sense left in him, he'd turn this cab around and beg Mr. Reinhart to allow him to recant. He would work hard, try to get a semblance of a normal life, and forget the past. Except that he'd been trying that for most of life without success.
Every failure, every relapse into alcohol, every stupid descent into seedy districts, every time his savings account went untouched in order to invest money in a short-term excitement, he seemed to see an image. A teenager in blue, living every day, every second.
"We're just getting started!", he heard. Sounded like Conner over there. "Right", a voice sneered in reply. Trent's clone, that was, no doubt. Time to make an entry. Ethan gunned the afterburners on his cycle and roared forward, depressing the laser triggers as soon as Mesogog's uglies were in range.
He grinned as the cycle moved faster than any vehicle had a right to, scattering Tyrannodrones and forcing the prime baddies to duck out of the way, singed. Two things existed at the moment – himself and the speed. Even the enemies were inconsequential, just targets to aim at. "Have no fear, Blue Ranger's here!", someone yelled. Him, Ethan realized as he left the cycle in hover mode and jumped down. "Who wants to go?", he declared, glaring at the White Ranger and the latest henchman.
For a moment, they looked like they were going to back down just from that. In that instant, he felt victory as his existence. In that instant, it was all that could be. Obstacles were merely instruments to demonstrate that. In that instant, Mesogog bowed to him. In that instant, nothing else presumed to even EXIST, except Ethan James.
That instant had faded, of course. Had come and gone many times in his Ranger career. But now, he realized, it was what he had lived for. The high of victory, of triumph. The Power. Without, all else was meaningless. He'd hid that from himself for a while. He supposed he should be grateful it had been long enough for him to finish his Computer Science degree, so he at least had a profession. But since then, it had all been downhill.
He'd tried to drown the hunger. He went through alcoholic programs for his trouble, but the hunger remained. He tried to drift, to seek new oblivion anywhere he could. All it bought him was a lack of roots and purpose. He'd tried knife fights, hookers, drag-racing, anything. Even the best thrills paled, failed to satisfy. Nothing could. He'd even tried to join SPD's Ranger program at one point, upon which he was informed that while a career might await him, he was "too old" for the Ranger track. That had been one of his more heartfelt resignations. But always, the hunger remained.
And this will end the same way. You'll end up chasing false rumors, or do something stupid to get hold of the gem. He didn't care. He wanted it too badly. I want my fix. I'm like a druggie nursing my addiction for decades. The mother of all withdrawals. Yeah, except druggies staying clean for that long usually ceased to be druggies. A psychological addiction was harder to get rid of. A life without purpose couldn't be cured in a 12-step program.
"Hello? Saban Air? I'd like to book your next flight to Newtech City.". All the reasons in the world to stay away. One reason to go through with it, to not ignore this sudden resurgence of the Dino Gems and their powers.
An instant. An instant of purpose again, an instant of oblivion, of victory. For that he throwing his life away. Again.
I'm a Grid addict. And it's time to shoot up.
It hadn't changed much. If at all. Considering it had been nigh-on thirty years, Tommy Oliver considered the stasis of Angel Grove's Juice Bar to be downright amazing. Same groups on the weight machines, same corner with karate classes going on, same table array, even. He grinned as he saw the guy tending the bar. Even that was the same.
"Tommy?", Ernie said incredulously from behind the bar as he approached. "That's me, Ernie", Tommy smiled at him. They'd never really kept in touch, but memories didn't fade. Of course, the man had changed. While as round as ever, Ernie too, had surrendered to age. His hair had faded to grey, and there seemed to be waiters doing most of the physical aspects of running the place. "Double veggie smoothie?", the man grinned at him.
After exchanging several minutes of conversation, Ernie bustled off. Tommy sipped at his smoothie, trying to soak up the atmosphere of the days when he'd drunk these daily. Some drunks use alcohol. I use the past. Why the hell did it keep coming back to bite him? No matter how much he tried, his past, his battles, kept returning. Even now, two decades after his last stint as a Ranger, he was still haunted by it. His lack of power had defined him all this time.
Why was he even here? To soak in happy high school memories? No, to soak in the only memories of mine that apparently matter – the Ranger ones. This was where he'd spent time with his team. Where he'd trained in martial arts that were, in the end, used for his Ranger career. Even before Rita had drafted him in, he'd been, he realized, a weapon looking for a fight. He still was. Why else had he answered Conner's summons, and was about to catch a connecting flight to Newtech City? He wanted back in.
I run from it. I travel the world, I stay away from martial arts, heck, I get a damned PhD. A useless one, in truth. He'd never really wanted it. He'd wanted purpose. And, at least while studying, he'd had it. Those years, between leaving the Turbo team and activating the Black Dino Gem, those had been the golden years. He was free of the Grid, free of the burden, going somewhere in life. He'd even managed to acquire a quiet, low-key teaching job. But he'd known. On some level, he'd known that it was all going to shatter. Maybe even wanted it. He could have left those three initial gems to rot. Someone else could've stopped Mesogog, could have fought. But no, he'd had to go and build morphers for the things, even!
Stupid. He'd known that. Just as it was stupid to be here right now. To admit he'd failed at running. He was past 40 now. And still only found happiness under a helmet, or in memories. A high school loser, Oliver. One of those dumbasses who refuse to let go. And he couldn't really listen to that. The thought of the gem was too strong. Of being a Ranger again.
Besides, what was his alternative? To return home? To write another empty article for a journal he didn't care about? To live out his existence as a burned-out academic, finding oblivion in fits of memories? Screw that. I'll go out my way.
The black-clad scientist checked his watch. Yeah, he had time. In a few minutes, he'd walk out, make his flight. He would fly out to Newtech City, meet up with his protégés, and become Dr. Thomas Oliver PhD, Black Ranger and team mentor, again. But right now, he just wanted to sit here, observe a novice yellow-belt class and remember a teenager named Tommy.