Chapter 3.
Angel Grove
The chaos of the battle still lingered in the air, thick and suffocating. He had saved the Pink Ranger. With a fury that matched the storm itself, he had torn through the Putty Patrollers, his Dragon Dagger flashing with ruthless precision, cutting through them as if they were nothing. His actions had been swift, almost mechanical, and then, just as quickly as he had arrived, he disappeared into the decimated heart of Angel Grove, leaving nothing but the aftermath of his wrath.
He knew Rita would not let his defiance go unpunished. He could already feel the weight of her vengeance lurking in the shadows. But as the adrenaline of battle faded, a deeper, more unsettling truth began to surface in his mind, the truth of what he had become, what she had twisted him into.
Now, standing alone in the broken silence of the ruined city, he found himself facing something far more damning than any enemy he had ever fought. Before him stood a memorial, a grim testament to the destruction he had helped bring about. A monument to the lives lost, lives that had been ripped away in the wake of his actions, his choices. It was a place that should never have existed, a hollow reminder of the devastation his hands had caused. It felt like the weight of the entire world had been pressed into the cold stone before him.
Its surface was engraved with the names of the fallen, each letter etched in sorrow, each name a wound that would never heal. The names were all there, carved into the stone, reminders of every life he had taken. It was a shrine to the death he had caused, a testament to the destruction that had followed him.
He stood there, helmet in one hand, the other clenched into a trembling fist. His eyes, hollow and bloodshot, traced the names on the stone as if each one had been carved into his soul. The voices of the fallen haunted him. Every crack in the memorial seemed to whisper his name, accusing, pleading.
The Pink Ranger's voice echoed in his mind, "I don't think you want to be the cause of any more pain…" He squeezed his eyes shut, but her voice wouldn't leave him. Nor would the image of her tear-streaked face.
The clang of his own breathing startled him, sharp and raw in the silence. He exhaled shakily, forcing himself to speak aloud, as if grounding himself in reality. "I never meant for this." he murmured, his voice rasping against the wind. "I didn't… I didn't know…"
The weight of his guilt pressed harder until he could no longer stand it. He turned, ready to flee from the graveyard of his failures. But then, a voice pierced the silence.
"Harry."
The name was spoken softly, yet it carried the weight of authority and care. He spun toward it, his instincts flaring. Green energy surged involuntarily through his body as he gripped the Dragon Dagger, ready for a fight. But the figure before him was no enemy.
Albus Dumbledore stood beneath the ruin of the sky, his silhouette wreathed in the failing light. His robes billowed softly in the breeze, but his face was still, composed—a silent reservoir of sorrow and resolve. His half-moon spectacles caught the last flicker of sunlight, though the light in his eyes was dimmed by the weight of ages.
"Professor?" Harry's voice cracked as he spoke, disbelief warring with shame. He wanted to turn away, to run. How could he face Dumbledore, after everything?
"I've been searching for you." Dumbledore said, his voice carrying a quiet intensity. "You've had me deeply concerned."
Harry's laugh was mocking. "Concerned?" he echoed. "What could possibly concern you about me now?"
Dumbledore stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Harry. There was no anger in his gaze, only a deep, aching sadness that made Harry want to turn away, to flee from the weight of it. "All my students are under my care, Harry." Dumbledore said, his voice steady but carrying the weight of an unspoken history. "I take that responsibility very seriously."
Harry's eyes burned as he finally turned away, his fists clenching at his sides. "Funny," he muttered. "You didn't take it seriously when it mattered. Where were you, when I needed you the most? You weren't there for me… and you weren't there for them."
Dumbledore's expression softened, his voice steady but tinged with sadness. "You're right." he said quietly. "I wasn't. And for that, I will never forgive myself." The simplicity of the admission struck Harry like a blow. "I know what it is to lose someone you love, Harry." he said, his voice heavy with ancient grief.
"Don't lecture me." Harry whispered, his voice cracking.
Dumbledore's face faltered, his shoulders sagging slightly. "You have every right to be angry with me." he admitted, his voice strained with the weight of years of regret. "I made mistakes, Harry. Grievous ones. And I will carry them to my grave. But I will never stop trying to make things right."
Harry turned to face him, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anguish and guilt. "Mistakes." he echoed. "Do you know what mistake I made, Professor? I thought that I could change everything — reshape the world into something better."
Harry's laugh echoed off the ruins. "Do you see this? This is what I did." His voice broke, and he turned back to the memorial, his shoulders heaving. "Do you know how many people I've killed, Professor? Do you know how many names are carved on this stone because of me?"
"They were just —" His voice broke, and he turned back to the memorial, gripping its edges as though it was the only thing keeping him upright. "They didn't deserve this. None of them did. But I…"
Dumbledore's voice softened, though there was no pity in it — only a quiet conviction. "You think I do not understand, Harry? I too, in my youth, believed that power could make things right. I believed it could heal the wounds I had caused... But it only tore me apart."
Harry spun back around to face him, his eyes hard and unforgiving. He reached out for his Dragon Dagger, feeling its power surge in his hands, but it was not the dagger that he wielded — it was his fury. "You think that you can just show up and fix everything with a few wise words?"
"I don't need your pity, Dumbledore." Harry spat. "And I don't need your lessons now."
With a roar of frustration, Harry's hand slammed the dagger into the ground, sending a shockwave of green energy blasting toward Dumbledore. The force of the attack struck Dumbledore's shield, pushing him back, but the older wizard raised his wand in time to conjure a shimmering barrier that absorbed the blow.
Harry lunged, the Dragon Dagger sparking as it sliced through the air. Dumbledore blocked each strike with his wand, golden light clashing against green energy in a storm of magic and fury.
"You're strong." Dumbledore said, his voice strained but unwavering. "But strength alone won't save you."
"Then teach me, Professor!" Harry roared, his voice breaking. "Why didn't you teach me that sooner?"
Harry drove the Dragon Dagger into the ground again, unleashing a pulse of green energy so powerful it shattered Dumbledore's shield entirely, sending the wizard crashing to the ground. For a moment, Harry stood over him, the Dragon Dagger raised high, energy crackling and humming with the promise of destruction.
Dumbledore looked up at him from the ground, his face bruised but unbroken. "Is this really what you want, Harry?" he asked quietly. "To destroy the ones who care for you?"
Harry froze, his entire body trembling. The energy around the Dragon Dagger faltered, flickering uncertainly.
"I failed you." Dumbledore continued, his voice low, but filled with a deep sorrow that was almost painful to hear. "I failed to protect you from the darkness. But don't make my failures yours. Don't let them define you."
The wind howled through the city, carrying the echoes of Dumbledore's solemn words. Harry's hand trembled on the Dragon Dagger as his thoughts swirled, a maelstrom of anger, shame, and confusion. Before he could speak, an eerie, mocking laugh shattered the moment.
"Well, well." a voice drawled, cutting through the tension like a blade. "The boy who would be king, and the old fool who abandoned him."
Rita Repulsa stepped from the shadows, her dark figure gleaming in the dying sunlight, her ornate staff tapping rhythmically against the ground. Her golden armor gleamed with malice as she surveyed the scene with a look of disdain. Her eyes gleamed with the hunger of someone who had come to claim what she believed was rightfully hers.
"Harry." she cooed, her voice sweet and venomous, "Don't tell me you're listening to him now? After everything we've been through together?"
"Rita." he said, his voice low, almost pleading. He couldn't look at her, couldn't meet the eyes of the woman who had given him the means to tear his life apart.
He'd spent weeks under her tutelage, learning about the universe, the way she saw things, a worldview distorted, but strangely compelling. She had shown him a vision of what could be possible if he embraced his power, a seductive, twisted vision of a world reshaped in his image. In a way, she had almost... mothered him.
He wanted to believe it was all lies, but the bond they had forged was real, and it was hard to tear away from. Rita had made him feel seen, understood, things he had never felt with anyone else.
Dumbledore, stood beside him, his wand raised. "I assume that you are the source of much of his recent turmoil." His battered face was set in a grim expression, but his voice, though quiet, was laced with a fury that made the air itself seem to tremble.
Rita ignored the older wizard, her eyes never leaving Harry. "Yes, Harry." she said softly, taking a step forward. "Say my name. Remember who gave you the strength to stand when everyone else wanted you on your knees. I gave you the Dragon Coin. We can be something greater than what they ever let us be."
The conflict churned in his chest. On one hand, he wanted to protect Dumbledore, to prove that he was capable of something more than destruction. On the other... Rita had been there for him when no one else had. She saw his potential, she believed in him... And yet, deep down, Harry knew it was all a lie, a twisted manipulation to bring him under her control.
"No." Harry muttered, his voice cracking. "You didn't give me power to help me. You gave it to control me. You wanted me to become like you."
"Like me?" she repeated with mock offense, her voice lilting. "You think I made you into something you're not?"
"You made me believe I could fix things." he said, his voice trembling with the weight of his guilt. "But all I've done is destroy."
Rita's eyes flashed with fury, and the sky darkened as storm clouds rolled in, drawn by her growing anger. "Destroy? No, Harry. You've only just begun to build. But if you want to throw away everything I've given you, so be it."
Something deep inside Harry snapped. The words she had spoken, the ones that had almost seduced him, now felt hollow, fake. She had never understood him. She had used him. She had tried to twist him into her puppet.
"No." Harry said, his voice steadying with newfound conviction. "You don't understand me. You never did. I wanted to fix things, to protect people."
Rita's face twisted with something like frustration, and she raised her staff high. "You think you can defy me, Harry? You think he can save you?"
With a sudden, terrifying movement, she thrust her staff into the ground, releasing a blast of dark energy so violent it caused the very earth to tremble beneath their feet. The ground cracked and split open, sending waves of dark energy toward Harry and Dumbledore.
Without hesitation, Harry raised the Dragon Dagger, its energy crackling to life.
Dumbledore moved beside him, his wand a blur as he conjured fiery shields and golden strikes of magic to counter Rita's relentless assault. The two fought in tandem, Harry's raw power complementing Dumbledore's strategic precision.
Rita slammed her staff into the ground and summoned a swirling vortex of dark lightning. She hurled it toward them, the energy crackling with lethal intent.
Dumbledore reacted swiftly, conjuring a dome of golden light that absorbed the attack, though the strain was evident in his posture. "Now, Harry!" he said, his voice strained.
Harry rushed forward, the Dragon Dagger humming with power as he prepared to strike.
With a surge of power, he unleashed a blast of green energy that collided with Rita's magic. The explosion lit up the square, forcing her to retreat several steps. Dumbledore followed up with a spell that sent a searing wave of fire toward her, driving her back further.
"You're nothing without me, Harry!" she screamed, her voice desperate and raw.
"You're wrong. I don't need you. I never did."
Rita staggered back, dark energy sparking erratically from her staff. Her twisted smile returned, venomous and sharp, a mask of malevolent triumph. "If you won't listen to me, then perhaps I'll remind you what true power looks like." she sneered.
She thrust her staff into the air, and the heavens seemed to split open with a deafening crack. Dark clouds churned violently, and an ominous vortex formed above her, spewing tendrils of raw, chaotic energy. With a surge of power, her staff glowed brighter, the crackling energy surging outward in an eruption of destructive force.
In the distance, where Goldar and Scorpina were wreaking havoc, the spell took hold. The ground beneath them shuddered violently, cracks spidering through the pavement as if the earth itself recoiled from the magic.
Goldar roared, his golden armor shimmering as it absorbed the waves of dark energy pouring down like a deluge. His monstrous form grew, doubling, tripling in size, until he towered over the ruined cityscape. His red eyes burned like twin suns as he let out an earth-shaking roar.
Beside him, Scorpina laughed, the sound chilling and triumphant. The yellow light around her pulsed with a dangerous intensity, engulfing her form as her scorpion-like armor expanded grotesquely, her segmented tail snapping like a thunderclap. Her curved blade gleamed with cruel intent as she swung it, carving through the air with a force that sent shockwaves rippling across the city.
Buildings crumbled under their colossal weight as they began their march, every step leaving behind a trail of devastation. Cars were flattened like paper, and entire streets buckled beneath their monstrous forms. Fires erupted in their wake, adding to the chaos as debris rained down from above.
The tension in the air thickened as Rita's laugh echoed, mocking and cold. And then, with one final flourish of her staff, she cast a spiteful glance toward the resistance below. Her eyes glinted with cruel satisfaction as she disappeared in a flash of green light.
Dumbledore, standing amidst the chaos, his long robes whipped by the wind, observed the devastation with a grim expression. His keen blue eyes tracked the towering monstrosities. "What manner of creatures are these?" his tone measured despite his evident concern.
"Goldar and Scorpina." Harry said, his voice tight as he gripped the Dragon Dagger.
Harry looked at the monstrosities wreaking havoc on the horizon. Kimberly's city. The city he had torn apart, now on the brink of collapse once more. He took a deep breath, the power of the Dragon Coin surging within him, and turned to Dumbledore.
"Don't worry, Professor." he said, his voice unwavering despite the storm of emotions that raged within him.
Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder, his gaze unwavering. "I am not worried, Harry. I am with you."
And with that, they both disappeared into the chaos, the city trembling beneath their feet.
Angel Grove
Cries for help echoed through the war-torn streets, mingling with the distant roar of collapsing buildings. Amidst the wreckage, the Green Ranger stood, his armor dented and scorched, his body battered from countless clashes. Every breath felt like a battle, every movement a test of his resolve. But there was no room for weakness, no moment to falter. The city was crumbling around him, and every second wasted was another life lost.
A family screamed for help from beneath a pile of rubble. The Green Ranger moved without hesitation, tearing through the wreckage with his bare hands, lifting beams and concrete as if they weighed nothing. He could feel their desperate cries, the hopelessness in their voices, but there was no time for them to thank him.
"Dumbledore." he muttered through clenched teeth, glancing over to where the old wizard was casting spells to shield fleeing civilians from falling debris. "The Ministry —"
"The Ministry will wait." Dumbledore's voice cut through the chaos, calm and firm. "These people are what matter now."
The Green Ranger said nothing, his eyes darting back to the wreckage. His hands were already moving, pulling aside concrete, saving lives one by one.
He cleared another fallen beam and freed a woman trapped beneath. Her breath was shallow, her eyes wide with fear. The Green Ranger did what he could, stabilizing her, ensuring she could breathe, but he couldn't linger. The cries of others pulled him further into the inferno of destruction.
Behind him, the civilians watched, some cautiously eyeing him with distrust. He could feel their gaze on him, a mix of wariness and fear, as if they weren't sure if he was here to help or if they should be running in the opposite direction. He could hear their hushed whispers as they backed away, too cautious to say anything aloud but too frightened to get too close. He understood. He had been the one who had nearly torn the city apart.
But the Green Ranger didn't care. He had a city to save.
Behind him, Dumbledore stood ready, his wand flicking with precision, casting protective spells that kept the falling debris at bay. A protective barrier shimmered around a group of civilians as they fled from a crumbling building. He turned to the Green Ranger, his voice soft yet firm, carrying a quiet but undeniable wisdom.
"You're doing all that you can." Dumbledore said, his tone gentle, a touch of concern in his eyes.
"I'm not doing enough." the Green Ranger muttered under his breath. He had the power, he could end this now. But there was a fear that gnawed at him, a fear of what might happen if he unleashed that power.
His eyes turned toward the horizon. The Megazord was struggling against Goldar and Scorpina. The Megazord was sluggish, battered, and on the brink of collapse. The Power Rangers inside were fighting hard, but they were outmatched.
The city needed him. The Pink Ranger needed him.
Without a second thought, the Green Ranger's fingers closed around the Dragon Dagger at his side, the faint glow of green pulsing with power.
He raised the dagger to his lips and blew a single sharp note.
The melody was haunting, reverberating through the city like a siren's call. The air grew still, as if the world itself paused to listen. The note carried an ancient power, a sound that seemed to pierce the veil of time, calling to something far older, far more powerful than anything Angel Grove had ever known.
The ocean answered. The ground beneath Angel Grove trembled as a deep, guttural rumble echoed from the bay. The waters churned violently, waves rising into towering walls of foam. The bay itself seemed to recoil as if something immense was forcing its way from the depths. Civilians who had stopped to listen now screamed in terror as the earth quaked beneath them. The very air felt alive, charged with an energy so raw and unrelenting that it stole the breath from anyone close.
With an earth-shattering roar, the Dragonzord burst from the water. Its colossal, green-scaled form emerged like a god of destruction rising from the depths of the abyss. Towering over the skyline, its jagged fins gleamed in the dim light, casting razor-sharp reflections that danced across the water. Its red eyes burned like molten fire, glowing with an intensity that seemed to pierce the soul of anyone who dared meet its gaze.
The sound of its roar shattered the air, a primal, deafening bellow that drowned out all else. The ground cracked under its weight as it stepped onto land, steam hissing from its joints with every movement. The massive tail lashed through the bay, sending a tidal wave surging toward the city's edge. Cars were swept away, debris scattered like leaves in a storm. Even the air seemed heavier, oppressive, as if the Dragonzord's very presence demanded submission.
For a brief moment, there was silence, then, the screams of the terrified civilians, the sound of terror and disbelief.
Dumbledore stood frozen, eyes wide in awe. He had seen many magical creatures in his long life, but nothing like this. His voice was almost a whisper, barely audible over the roar of the Dragonzord. "Remarkable…"
As Goldar looked up, his golden eyes glinted with cruel amusement. He saw the mechanical beast, its towering form rising from the sea like an unstoppable force. The green scales gleamed under the fiery glow of destruction, its eyes burning with primal fury. A twisted grin stretched across his face as he laughed, the sound echoing across the battlefield.
But before his laughter could even fade, the Dragonzord struck.
With a bone-crushing snap, the Dragonzord's massive tail slammed into Goldar's side. The golden warrior was thrown through the air, his body crashing into a nearby building with such force that the structure collapsed upon impact. The ground shook violently from the impact, debris flying in all directions. Goldar lay dazed for a moment, but the Green Ranger wasn't finished.
With a flick of his wrist, he commanded the Dragonzord to fire.
A barrage of missiles erupted from the Dragonzord's fingertips, streaking across the sky like shooting stars. Each missile hit its mark with pinpoint precision, slamming into Goldar's armor with a deafening explosion. The sky was filled with fire as Goldar was hurled back, his body ragdolling through the air before crashing into the ground, battered and broken.
Scorpina, undeterred, lunged at the Dragonzord, her scythe gleaming with dark energy. She swung with lethal intent, but the Green Ranger was already giving the command. The Dragonzord's massive claw shot out, snatching Scorpina's weapon mid-swing. The sheer strength of the Zord was enough to hold the scythe in place, its fingers closing around the blade before hurling Scorpina across the battlefield like a ragdoll.
"Harry, are you —" the Pink Ranger's voice crackled through the comms, but the Green Ranger's voice cut her off, cold and unyielding.
"I'm not letting this city burn." he said coldly, his eyes locked on Goldar. His fingers curled tighter around the Dragon Dagger, feeling the pulse of power that surged through the Dragonzord's body.
The Dragonzord unleashed a barrage of missiles from its fingertips, each projectile streaking across the sky like a comet. They found their mark with pinpoint accuracy, slamming into Goldar and Scorpina with explosive force. The resulting shockwave flattened everything within a hundred feet, sending both monsters hurtling backward in a cloud of fire and smoke.
As the dust settled, Goldar struggled to his feet, his armor cracked and scorched. Scorpina staggered beside him, her once-menacing form battered and broken. The two exchanged a glance, their confidence wavering. But before they could act, the Megazord struck.
The Power Sword ignited with radiant energy, the combined strength of the Power Rangers flowing through it. With a mighty swing, the blade cleaved through Goldar and Scorpina, engulfing them in a brilliant explosion of sparks. Their forms wavered before collapsing into nothingness, retreating into dark energy as Rita's voice echoed, distant and furious.
"You'll pay for this, Power Rangers!" she screamed, her voice laced with venom.
The battlefield fell silent. The Dragonzord stood motionless, its red eyes dimming slightly, steam hissing from its joints. Around it, civilians began to emerge from the wreckage, their faces a mix of awe and terror.
The Green Ranger lowered the Dragon Dagger, his grip trembling slightly. The weight of what he had unleashed bore down on him, but he pushed it aside. The city was safe, for now. And that was all that mattered.
The Command Center
The Command Center stood in silent ruin, still scarred from the violent destruction Harry had wrought. The once-strong walls, now broken and stained, whispered of the power that had once thrived here, power now dissipating into the echoes of the past. The faint hum of the remaining life-support systems was little more than a distant murmur, like the last breath of something long lost. Above it all, the light from Zordon's energy tube flickered weakly, a dim, ghostly pulse, barely a trace of the wisdom and guidance it once represented.
Harry stepped inside, his green armor scuffed and worn from battle, the weight of it heavier than ever. His helmet hung loosely in his hand, his fingers trembling slightly as they gripped it. Behind him, Dumbledore followed silently, his robes brushing the floor, eyes scanning the room with a mixture of curiosity and quiet reverence.
The silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating, as he slowly turned toward the shattered remnants of the Command Center. His chest tightened with guilt, and he could feel the sting of his past actions as keenly as ever.
As Harry stood before the shattered remnants of the Command Center, a deep breath escaped his lips. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, summoning the strength that had once felt so natural, but now seemed distant.
"I'm sorry." he whispered, the words almost lost to the ruined space.
His hand, still trembling, reached for his Power Coin, the energy now flowing from him and into the remnants of Zordon's energy tube.
Green energy flared, and the Command Center seemed to groan under the strain, the walls trembling as if responding to its power. A violent tremor shook the floor beneath Harry's feet, but he stood firm, refusing to let go. The green energy from the Power Coin shot out in tendrils, coursing through the Command Center like lightning, mending broken circuits, fusing shattered panels, and slowly, painfully, restoring the room to its former state.
The energy tube flickered, its light growing brighter with each passing second. The crackling power seemed to renew the very essence of the Command Center itself. And then, with a final surge of light, Zordon's face reappeared within the tube.
His eyes glimmered with a mix of gratitude and sorrow as they fixed on Harry, who was still holding the Power Coin close to his chest.
Harry stopped in front of Zordon's energy tube and looked up. For a long moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching between them like a chasm. Then, he finally spoke.
"I came to say goodbye."
"Goodbye, but why?" Zordon's faint image flickered, his face steady yet tinged with sadness. "There is a place for you here among the Power Rangers."
"I don't know who I am anymore." Harry's grip on his helmet tightened, his knuckles whitening. "For months my mind's been poisoned with fear and hate. I don't even know if there's any good left in me."
Zordon's voice resonated through the room, calm yet unwavering. "You may not know who you are, but trust me, I do. You're not evil."
"I look at what I've done, and all I see is destruction." Harry paused, his voice breaking slightly. "I'm leaving Angel Grove. I have to figure out who I am."
Harry glanced down at the Power Coin in his hand, the symbol of everything that he had been through. The weight of it felt unbearable, a reminder of both his triumphs and his failures.
"I can't keep this." he said quietly, stepping forward. He reached out and placed the Power Coin on the console beneath Zordon's tube. The green energy within it flickered faintly, as if reluctant to let go.
"I don't deserve it." Harry continued, his voice steady but filled with emotion.
Zordon's image shimmered, his voice filled with a quiet sadness. "May the power protect you, Harry."
Harry nodded, stepping back. He looked around the Command Center one last time, his gaze lingering on the faintly glowing tube, the consoles, and the scars of his own making.
Dumbledore watched him carefully. "Are you ready?" he asked softly.
Harry hesitated, then gave a faint smile. "Not quite. There's one more stop I need to make."
With that, he turned and walked out of the Command Center, the sound of his footsteps fading into the night. The Power Coin remained behind, its faint glow casting light over the room.
Angel Grove
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across Angel Grove, its golden light waning as dusk settled over the city. The damage from the battle still lingered, collapsed buildings, shattered windows, streets littered with debris. Amid the wreckage, a small memorial stone stood at the heart of the devastation, etched with the names of those who had been lost. Fresh flowers rested at its base, their petals curling from the weight of time, while others, now wilted, added to the somber offering.
Harry stood before it, dressed in simple jeans and a jacket, the weight of his armor replaced by the even heavier burden of guilt. His eyes traced the polished granite, lingering on the names of the fallen, his heart sinking with each one. Behind him, graffiti scrawled across the half-collapsed walls of a nearby building, the words accusatory, sharp, each phrase cutting deeper than any weapon.
Farther down the street, obscured by the shadows of a half-collapsed building, Dumbledore silently repaired a fractured wall with his wand. The soft glow of magic mended bricks and concrete, but he remained out of sight, allowing Harry his privacy, or so it seemed.
A gust of wind stirred, sending a crumpled newspaper fluttering across the pavement. Harry bent down, his fingers brushing the faded paper. The headline screamed, "GREEN RANGER'S REIGN OF TERROR!" Beneath it, a blurry photo of him towering over Angel Grove. The sight made his stomach twist. With a quick, frustrated motion, Harry crushed the paper in his hand and tossed it aside. His jaw clenched, and his voice came out barely above a whisper.
"I'm sorry." he murmured, his eyes drifting back to the memorial.
"You don't look so tough without the armor." a voice called from behind him.
Harry turned to see the Pink Ranger standing a few feet away. She wore her pink jacket and jeans, her arms crossed as she regarded him cautiously.
"Pink Ranger." Harry murmured, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
She nodded, taking a step closer. "What are you doing here?"
"Paying my respects." Harry replied, gesturing at the memorial. "For what it's worth."
Kimberly glanced at the names etched in stone. "It's a start." she said softly.
Harry's jaw clenched. "It doesn't make up for what I've done."
"No." she agreed quietly, her voice even. "It doesn't. But it's something. And something's better than nothing."
He turned his gaze back to the memorial. "How can you even look at me, let alone talk to me, after everything I did?" he questioned, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You fought to save us today, even when it meant putting yourself in danger." she said gently, her tone softening. For a brief moment, the harsh edge of her words faded, replaced by something more vulnerable.
Harry shook his head, his fists clenching at his sides. "I was the danger."
"No, Harry." Kimberly said, her voice firm now. "You showed us today that you're not the monster that she wanted you to be."
Her words struck him harder than he expected. He looked away, struggling to find something to say. "For months, Rita has twisted my thoughts, filled my head with hate and lies." he admitted finally. "I don't even know who I am anymore."
Kimberly's expression softened further, and she took another step closer, standing beside him now. "Maybe that's something you need to figure out."
Harry nodded, his gaze fixed on the memorial. "I'm leaving Angel Grove." he said quietly. "I need to figure out who I am without her, without the power, without…" He trailed off, unable to finish.
Kimberly studied him for a long moment, her brow furrowed in thought. "Do you think leaving will fix things?"
"It's not about fixing things." Harry replied, his voice steadier now. "It's about making sure I don't make things worse."
Kimberly nodded slowly, a small, sad smile playing at the corners of her lips. "You're not the person who destroyed Angel Grove anymore, Harry. You're the person who saved it today."
Slowly, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small box, no larger than her palm, its surface plain but polished. She held it out to him, her gaze steady.
Harry frowned, hesitant. "What's this?"
Kimberly's voice softened as she spoke. "The day that you realize you're truly good, the day that you believe it, I want you to open this."
His fingers closed around the box, its small weight somehow comforting in his hand. "Thanks." he murmured, unsure what else to say.
She turned to leave, her footsteps light on the broken pavement. Just as she was about to disappear into the shadows of the crumbling city, she stopped and turned back, her eyes meeting his with a quiet, confident smile.
"My name's Kimberly." she said, her voice carrying through the quiet evening air.
He finally spoke, almost to himself, "Kimberly…"
She gave him one last, brief nod before disappearing into the night.