Go! Go! Power Riders!
"Do what you will this life's a fiction,
And is made up of contradiction."
- William Blake, Notebook c.1808-1811 p.98.
He looked down into the shallow surface of the dark water, the flow of the river clogged with autumn leaves; dark, swollen eyes looked back at him. Reaching out for his reflection, his fingers broke the surface—
—and came away damp, the polluted water doing nothing for the cleanliness of his gloves.
He reached down for his belt with his other hand, the fingertips of his gauntlets scuffed and blackened with fire. His store of prána was running low, he sensed that. Once he relinquished his armour, that would be it, he wouldn't be able to transform for another hour or two, not until he had drawn in enough energy from his natural surroundings—if such a place could be called natural, he thought unhappily.
He pulled the helmet back on, hiding his face once more.
Rising from his crouch by the stagnant riverside, he tightened his hand into a fist, the muscles of his face tightening beneath the black mask he wore, his eyes narrowing. He had been many things in life, he had worn many different guises, but since the collapse of the Morphin' Grid, he had been known solely by one name: RX Black Rider.
Footsteps announced the presence of another.
"Tommy, any luck?"
He turned, shook his head.
"Nothing," he said, biting back frustration and then feeling bad for the sharpness of his tone. "Sorry, Adam. Didn't mean to bite your head off."
Encased within his own armour, Adam shrugged.
"Hey, no problem. It's getting to us all."
Six months since they had arrived on the dying world of Edenoi. Six months since the final bombardment of the surface, since they had been cut off from Alpha, from Zordon, from Earth. He tightened his fist. From Kimberley.
Using matter transmission technology abandoned by the invaders, Billy had attempted to return to Earth to seek help. They had never seen him again. Dex, prince of Edenoi, had died in his arms, and, in a last-ditch attempt to prevent Lord Dregon from stealing the powers of the Masked Rider, Tommy had inherited the mantle. Yet at the same time, with the fall of Edeoni and the collapse of the Morphin' Grid, something else had happened, those ancient powers refracting from the last dying glow of their Power Coins, splintering Dex's inheritance, the Grid's last attempt to enable its protectors when all else had failed.
Glittering red eyes, stripes of yellow curving about the helm, Adam had become the Black Rider. In turn, Aisha's armour had shifted also, becoming the Blue Rider, whilst Rocky had become the Gold Rider.
On the surface of the dead world, the only thing alive—save for Dregon's abandoned foot soldiers—was the remnants of its environment, trees, flowers, scorched grass desperately radiating with prána, a powerful energy that had supplied the royal bloodline with their extraordinary powers. A powerful energy now in short supply.
"Rocky's on patrol, looking into that rumour of a Silver Rider, Aisha's getting some rest," Adam said, walking forward to meet him, providing an update on their status even though Tommy hadn't asked for it.
He felt he had no right to be the leader, yet still the others deferred to him regardless.
"We're going to be without the Blue Rider's powers for a few hours now, so we won't be able to purify this water until her energy is restored."
Tommy patted the younger man on the shoulder, his burnt gauntlets clicking softly against the metal shoulder pads.
"That's good to know. Thanks, Adam."
Adam turned to watch him as he passed.
"You should get some rest too, Tommy."
He paused but did not look back.
"Rocky and me will stay morphed. You can power down for a while."
"What if the Plague Patrol attacks?" he asked.
"Then we can take them! Me and Rocky are more than enough!" Adam said with earnestness.
Still, he did not turn back.
"Look, Tommy, man, I know you've got your doubts, but we've been Rangers a while now, a year if you count the months we've spent here. You've gotta start trusting us to carry some of the load, you know?"
Behind the mask, Tommy grimaced.
He had trusted them, he had believed in them, and he had also led them into danger, cut off from their friends, their families, the Ranger powers they had inherited, stranded on an alien world with no hope of return.
"Tommy," Adam said again. "We're your team. We're the RX Mighty Morphin' Power Riders. Cut us some slack."
A laugh escaped his lips. He turned at last.
"I can't believe you can say that with a straight face."
Again, he reached down for his belt, sliding his hands over the buckle, revealing for a moment the glittering fragments of his Power Coin as he disengaged the armour, standing in vest and cargo pants amidst the breeze of the dead world.
The younger man was right. He was at his limit, and he needed to trust the others more, to believe in them as Zordon and Alpha, as Jason, Zack, Trini, and Billy, as Kimberley had believed in him.
Adam offered him a thumbs up.
"You can't see me laughing behind my mask."