In his office at Angel Grove Air Force Base, General Theodore Norquist took some time to think over the situation, and his orders from the Secretary of Defense. They were to make contact with the Power Rangers. It was a tall order – and one with no small stakes. It could go very well, or it could go very badly.
He'd seen enough in the 33 years he's served in the Air Force. It included two tour in Vietnam flying the F-105D Thunderchief in the mid-60s, and then two tours flying the F-105G Thunderchief on Wild Weasel missions (which included a MiG-19 kill), and a tour commanding the 35th Tactical Fighter Wing before transferring to NORAD.
That wing command tour had been one that included a very strange encounter, stemming from a very bad crash in 1977. His F-105G had suffered a bird strike, and he'd ordered his back-seater to eject. The seats had fired, but his WSO's chute malfunctioned, and only partially opened. The mountainous terrain had done the rest. First Lieutenant Vic Darwin had been a good man, with a wife and what turned out to be triplets on the way.
Norquist had landed in some very rocky terrain and had a hard landing himself, with a messy compound fracture of his left leg. He'd also lost his service revolver – and a mountain lion seemed to think that the crippled Air Force colonel would make a good lunch.
He'd been saved by a robot, who had used some highly-advanced technology to stabilize his injuries and scare the lion away before clearing out when the SAR team was two minutes away. Norquist recovered, then had continued his career. After the debriefings, he'd kept the secret about his rescuer all that time. He ran his hand over his head, he didn't have the hair he used to. But the moustache was still there. He wondered if his rescuer would still recognize him.
"Get me Colonel Martin," he ordered.
A few moments later, a steady voice came over the line. "Martin here."
Norquist spoke clearly and firmly. "Boxcar Flight is authorized for immediate scramble. Authentication phrase: Alpha Five."
"Understood," Martin replied.
Norquist exhaled. This wasn't just about taking down a Machine Empire ship—in fact, if that happened, the mission was a failure. This was about establishing a line of communication with the Power Rangers and demonstrating intentions.
"This is crazy," Hal said, looking over the package. He and Wally had drawn the "Boxcar" flight responsibility for the week. It was a rotation, intended to make sure that everyone handled that job.
"It's straight from an echelon above reality," Wally agreed. "We're to fly to MCAS El Toro, and stay on ground alert. Our scramble order will be in the clear from General Norquist himself – authentication Alpha Five."
"That's it? Suppose someone is trying to spoof us into scrambling?" Hal asked.
"Well, according to this, the intention is to make contact with the Power Rangers. General Norquist intends to handle it himself," Wally said. "Guess that is why he makes the big bucks."
"Sounds like one major bet," Hal said.
"Yes, it is," a voice said. Hal and Wally turned to see General Norquist there.
"Now, I need you two to understand something," Norquist concluded. "If you fire nukes, this mission is a failure. Your job isn't to get a kill today."
"What is the job?" Hal asked.
"Getting a line of communication open," Norquist said. "I'm going to fill you two in on something from twenty years ago."
After Norquist explained for several minutes, Hal and Wally nodded, neither sure they believed what Norquist was saying, although Hal was sure the general wasn't messing with them.
"349541," Hal said.
"349541," the officer in charge of the special weapons detail for Hal's F-16, an Air Force captain, responded.
Hal and Wally had gone through a lot of security – they'd had to walk a hundred yards to the planes. That wasn't quite normal. Hal and the captain punched in the codes for the B61 Mod 10 on the centerline. A green light showed they'd gotten it right.
Shit, Hal thought, now it's for real. The process was repeated for the two Genies. Every F-16 was being rigged to carry them – and the same went for Navy and Marine Corps Hornets, too. Genies were, Hal mused, their best weapon against the Machine Empire's bigger ships and Godzilla-sized monsters.
Setting off a nuke was not what Hal wanted to do, even if it was only a fraction as powerful as the bomb dropped on Hiroshima. The Genies packed a bigger punch, about one-twelfth the punch of Little Boy.
It's still 1.25 kilotons, and that'll still cause a lot of collateral damage, Hal told himself.
Once armed, Hal and Wally were about to make the 100-yard walk back to the van when the sirens went off. They were in the cockpits of their fighters in less than three minutes.
The klaxons wailed as Hal Elliot and Wally Powers sprinted toward their F-16s, the urgency pressing down on them like a weight. Ground crews scrambled to disconnect power lines, arm weapons, and get the fighters airborne as fast as possible.
Hal climbed into the cockpit, running through his pre-flight checks in record time.
"Boxcar One, ready." Wally's voice crackled over the radio.
"Boxcar Two, ready," Hal confirmed.
"Boxcar Flight, this is General Theodore Norquist, NORAD Actual. Scramble to intercept enemy Giant Gear, bearing from Trumpet two-five-two, distance four hundred. Genie release granted. Authentication Alpha Five."
Wally whistled. "That's our cue."
Hal tightened his grip on the controls. Here we go.
Hal clicked his mike twice. They were possibly going to fire off the first nukes used in anger since 1945. There was no way they could figure out how this enemy would react – not to mention how the Power Rangers would take it.
Then again, they'd broadcast the order in the clear. Perhaps the Rangers might act. At the very least, they'd know that the Air Force had no hostile intent towards them.
With full afterburners, the F-16s rocketed into the sky.
In the Power Chamber, Billy heard the broadcast as well. He glanced at a sensor display, then went to the comms panel.
"They're sending a Gear Ship down," he said. "The Air Force is moving to intercept."
"Odd readings from the planes," Alpha said. He dialed in, and took a closer look at the planes, and the markings – and Billy could see the AIR-2 markings on them.
"The F-16s are carrying Genie rockets," Billy said, and before anyone else could act, he was on the radio.
"Tommy, you need to take that monster out fast – the Machine Empire sent a gear ship down, and the Air Force just scrambled Boxcar Flight," he said. "The Air Force is going to use nukes to take that gear ship down if we don't first."
"Copy that," Tommy said.
Fueled by that need, the Rangers went with the Zeo MegaZord. The Zeo MegaZord Saber slashed quickly, and the monster, RoboRat, fell to the ground and exploded. One situation resolved – now to defuse the second one.
"Zeo I Battle Helmet!" Kat called out. She locked the cannon onto the incoming Gear Ship, but…
"Tommy, those Air Force fighters – I don't have a clear shot!" she called out.
"On it," Tommy said. "Red Ranger to Air Force fighters. Red Ranger to Air Force fighters."
"Red Ranger, this is NORAD Actual," Norquist was on the air. "Which fighters are you trying to contact?"
"The ones heading for the Machine Empire gear ship," Tommy responded. "If you can get them to clear the path, we can take it down."
"Consider it done," the voice was enthusiastic. Tommy was taken by surprise. This NORAD Actual was happy to order the fighters off… that didn't make sense…
"Boxcar Flight, NORAD Actual, clear the path. Power Rangers will handle the Giant Gear. Repeat, break now. Now. Now!" he heard NORAD Actual order.
"The F-16s just broke," Tanya said.
Kat took dead aim at the gear ship.
"Cannon set to max power… locked on… firing," she said.
The laser beam reached out, traveling over three hundred miles in an instant, and scoring a direct hit on the gear ship. It took eleven seconds of sustained contact before the gear ship disintegrated.
"Nice shooting, Kat!" Tommy said. Kat breathed a sigh of relief as the Rangers took the Megazord back to their base. This had been a close call, way too close for comfort in Tommy's mind.
Back at the Power Chamber, the Rangers gathered to process what had just happened.
"Good thing someone messed up and broadcast that order in the clear," Tanya said in the Power Chamber.
Rocky crossed his arms. "You know… I think the Air Force wanted us to hear that order."
"I have to agree with Rocky that It wasn't a mistake," Adam said. "They meant for us to hear it."
Tanya frowned. "Why would they do that?"
Zordon's voice resonated through the chamber. "This could be their effort to create an opportunity to establish dialogue."
"It is a logical conclusion," Billy said. "The Air Force has to know that we are aware they have some of our technology. We know they are fighting, and they know we know. It makes sense from their perspective to establish some lines of communication. Although the authentication this NORAD Actual used was surprisingly familiar…"
Adam nodded. "And that authentication phrase—Alpha Five? That's too much of a coincidence."
"It was almost 20 years ago, before any of you were born," Zordon explained. "A plane known as a F-105G crashed near the command center, and the crew bailed out. One of the crew died, but the other was injured. Alpha went to the aid of the wounded pilot."
Billy looked at Zordon. "Really?"
Zordon's expression was solemn. "That pilot was General Norquist."
"So that explains the authentication code," Adam said, realization dawning on him. "If General Norquist was the pilot, and he's a high-ranking commander..."
Tanya's eyes widened. "So he's known about Alpha this whole time?"
Billy tapped at the console. "It makes sense. They know – or at least suspect – that we've picked up on their reverse-engineering efforts. They also know we're monitoring their activity. This was their way of saying they're open to coordination—or at least deconfliction."
Zordon nodded. "He kept our secret. And now, he may be extending a hand."
"We may have a chance to talk," Tommy said. "I think I should handle this one, preferably with Delphine."
"That's good thinking, Tommy. I would suggest Alpha also go," Billy said. "It could provide a personal connection for General Norquist."
"Show a second team of Rangers is available, and that there is backup in case we are unable to help," Kat said. "It might deter a hasty decision."
"I concur with that course of action," Zordon said. "The Rangers of Aquitar will take time to get here."
"In the meantime, we can at least try to keep an ear out. Alpha, monitor the frequency used for that scramble order. There may be other incidents. That we were able to act in concert with them – or at least wave them off – is a good sign," Billy said.
"I agree," Zordon said. "It will still take some delicate negotiations, but we have a chance to head things off before the Alien Rangers choose to intervene on their own."
Tommy exhaled. "Looks like I've got another meeting to set up."
Kat, meanwhile, glanced at her watch. "Speaking of meetings… I have to go."
Rocky smirked. "Oh yeah. You don't want to be late for studying with Hal."
Kat rolled her eyes. "Yes, studying."
Rocky grinned. "Sure, sure."
Kat laughed, shaking her head, but deep down, a tiny piece of apprehension settled in her chest. I still have to talk to him about the petition.
As she left for the Youth Center, she just hoped the conversation wouldn't ruin what they were starting to build.
Kat sat at a corner table in the Youth Center, idly stirring her strawberry shake with a straw while glancing toward the entrance every so often. She'd been looking forward to tonight—studying with Hal had somehow become something she actually enjoyed, and she wasn't about to turn down another chance to spend time with him.
Ernie wandered over, wiping his hands on a towel. "Hal called a little while ago—said he's running late. Something about a minor emergency at his 'vo-tech' job."
Kat raised an eyebrow. "Did he say what happened?"
Ernie shook his head. "Just said it all worked out and nothing bad happened."
Kat exhaled, nodding. "Alright. Thanks, Ernie."
She took another sip of her shake, leaning back in her chair. Hal had never really explained what he did at this supposed 'vo-tech' job of his, only that it involved planes. She wasn't sure how a high school vo-tech program had emergencies, but then again, she had her own share of secrets. We both have things we don't talk about, don't we?
A few minutes later, she looked up as the doors swung open, and Hal stepped inside. He looked a little tired but quickly spotted her and grinned.
"Sorry I'm late," he said, making his way over. "Work thing. Minor emergency. Everything's fine."
Kat smiled. "Good. I was starting to think I'd have to do trig alone."
Hal feigned horror. "Alone? That's cruel and unusual punishment."
Kat giggled. "Then you'd better make up for lost time."
Hal smirked as he slid into the seat across from her. "Fair enough. Let's do this."
Hal wasted no time digging into his order, Ernie's extra-loaded version of Taco Bell's Nachos Bell Grande. Kat, by contrast, stuck with her fruit cup and low-fat yogurt, though she did briefly consider sneaking a bite of his food.
Hal caught her look and smirked. "You wanna try some, don't you?"
Kat gave him an innocent look. "I have more self-control than that."
Hal chuckled. "Your loss."
Kat rolled her eyes, then turned back to her notebook. "Alright, Mr. Math Genius. Let's start with these trig problems."
For the next half hour, Hal patiently walked her through sine and cosine identities, helping her make sense of everything in a way her textbook failed to do. They exchanged friendly banter, Hal making up absurd mnemonics to help her remember the equations, Kat pretending to be unimpressed but secretly enjoying how easy he made things feel.
Eventually, she sat back with a sigh. "Okay. I think I actually get it now."
Hal grinned. "See? I told you trig wasn't that bad."
Kat smirked. "Says the guy who probably never struggled with math in his life."
Hal chuckled. "Not true. I struggled plenty—just not with numbers."
Kat tilted her head. "Oh?"
Hal leaned back. "Baseball was my thing back in the day. I was a pitcher. Left-hander."
Kat raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
Hal nodded. "Didn't have great 'stuff,' didn't even top 40 miles per hour, usually around 35 to 38, but I had five decent pitches, and I made the most of them. My secret weapons were a slider and a splitter I taught myself to throw – not many eleven-year-olds use them at that level, and they became my out pitches."
Kat sipped her shake. "That wouldn't happen to be why you signed the petition for the barbecue pit, would it?"
Hal gave a sheepish grin. "Busted. The new barbecue pit would help fund a Little League complex. And, well… I played in Angel Grove's league when I was a kid. Pitched against Stone Canyon in the championship game."
Kat's eyes twinkled. "Did you win?"
Hal smirked. "Let's just say I made their batters look very silly, and it's hard to win when you don't get runs across the plate."
"Can't say I'm familiar with baseball," Kat admitted.
"We'll have to correct that sometime," Hal said. "Also, that petition for the barbecue pit helps upgrade the Youth Center, and Ernie could use it. He gives out a lot of stuff 'on the house,' and that probably doesn't help his bottom line any, especially with the renovations this place could use."
Across the room, Tommy, Rocky, Adam, Tanya, and Billy sat together, subtly observing.
Rocky grinned. "Alright, so who's betting on how long before they're officially a couple?"
Adam rolled his eyes. "You are so predictable."
Rocky shrugged. "Come on, it's obvious."
Adam glanced at Hal. "You know, he did sign that petition."
"Probably for the Little League field," Billy mused.
Adam nodded. "Thanks for the traumatic memory. I still have nightmares about that championship game—Hal was pitching for Angel Grove against Stone Canyon."
Rocky groaned. "Oh man, Hal made me look so bad. That slider was murder."
Adam chuckled. "Yeah, I wasn't much better."
"You at least got a double," Rocky said.
"And struck out the other two times," Adam said. "That splitter was eight inches below my bat."
Billy glanced at them. "So he was a strategist?"
Adam nodded. "Didn't overpower anyone, just out-thought every hitter, could put the ball where he wanted it, and had a wider arsenal than most. It was the first time I saw a slider or a splitter in my life. He tossed a complete game, allowed four hits overall and one run, and that was only because of a balk call that was dubious, if you ask me."
"He had a very good pickoff move, as I recall," Billy said.
"Stone Canyon lost the game, 3-1," Rocky said.
"He's got a memory of athletic glory on a Little League field?" Tommy asked, Adam ruefully nodded.
Rocky shook his head. "Okay, fine. Maybe I was too quick to judge."
Tanya smirked. "Good to know you can admit when you're wrong."
Rocky rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."
Later that night, Kat sat in her room, phone pressed to her ear.
"So, Hal signed the petition," Kat said.
On the other end, Trini sighed. "Did you talk to him about it?"
Kat nodded. "I did. It wasn't just about the barbecue—he signed it because of the Little League field. He used to play."
Trini was quiet for a moment. "Oh, I can't believe… I actually forgot about that."
Kat raised an eyebrow. "Wait, you knew?"
Trini chuckled. "Oh yeah. I was watching the championship game. Jason and Zack played at the time. Jason was in left field, Zack was the catcher, and Hal was on the mound. He didn't have a great fastball, no overpowering stuff, but he out-thought everyone – think he threw a slider and splitter when nobody else did. He just was completely fearless on the mound."
Kat smiled softly. "That sounds like him."
Trini sighed. "Alright, alright. I guess he gets a pass from me for this one."
Kat giggled. "Glad to hear it."
Trini teased, "Now, if you really like him, just make sure he doesn't make a habit of annoying me."
Kat laughed. "No promises."
As they said their goodnights and hung up, Kat set the phone down and stretched.
Yeah… she definitely liked him.
And maybe—just maybe—she was ready to admit it.
Kat sat on the bed, thinking over the day's events, pen in her hand.
September 15, 1997
(If you're reading this and you're not me, you owe me a strawberry shake and a lot of chocolate chip cookies)
This has been one of the longest days I've had in a while. I should be exhausted, but my mind won't stop turning. So, here I am. Again. Writing it out, hoping I'll make sense of everything.
It started with the fight against RoboRat.
It was a nasty one. Faster than most of Mondo's creations, darting in and out before we could get a good hit in. We kept getting close to taking him down, but he just wouldn't stay still long enough for a clean shot. It was frustrating—there's nothing worse than having the power to stop something but struggling to land the hit that matters.
But the real problem wasn't RoboRat.
It was the Gear Ship trying to ambush us.
Billy warned us that the Air Force had scrambled jets—Boxcar Flight. He even said they had authorization to launch nuclear weapons if they had to. I remember hearing those words and feeling my stomach drop.
We've always known that the military is out there, watching, trying to understand what we do. But this was the closest we've come to having them act on their own. They were seconds away from launching a nuclear weapon in the middle of a battle we were still in. If we hadn't finished RoboRat in time, they would have fired.
They would have fired.
I don't know what's scarier—the fact that they almost did, or the fact that I understand why they would.
And then, just as quickly, it was over. We destroyed the Gear Ship before they had to act, and Boxcar Flight stood down. But it left this undeniable reality hanging over me:
We're not the only ones protecting the world anymore.
The Air Force isn't just sitting back—they're adapting, changing, finding their own ways to fight back. And I don't know where that leads us.
And then… there's Hal.
Hal Elliot, who was running late for our study date because of his "vo-tech job."
I don't know what's more ridiculous—the fact that he thinks I actually buy that explanation, or the fact that I can't even say anything because I'm keeping my own secrets, too.
But when he walked in, smiling like nothing had happened, I let it go. Because I wanted to.
Because I like him.
And that realization is… a lot.
We studied trig. We had milkshakes. We argued—lightheartedly—over his terrible eating habits. And then he told me why he signed the petition for the barbecue pit.
Little League.
He signed it because of Little League.
Because when he was younger, he was a pitcher for Angel Grove's team, and he played against Stone Canyon in a championship game. I could see it in his face, in the way he talked about it—he wasn't just remembering it. He felt it.
And maybe that's what gets me the most about him.
He doesn't just act on impulse. He thinks things through. Even the way he pitched—he wasn't overpowering, but he out-thought the batters, throwing a slider at a young age to get an edge. And now, looking back, I see it—how he processes everything, how he watches, calculates, finds his angles.
That's why he said the Tenga incident was the 'least tragic outcome.' It's not that he's unfeeling—he just sees things for what they are. He accepts reality without dressing it up.
And maybe… maybe that's why I feel so drawn to him.
Because my reality wasn't real.
Because for so long, I couldn't trust my own feelings, my own thoughts, my own desires. Rita took that from me, rewrote me into something I wasn't. And I still don't know how much of what I felt for Tommy was real.
But with Hal…
It's different.
It feels different.
And that scares me.
Because I can't lie to him forever.
I don't know when I'll tell him the truth—about me, about being the Pink Zeo Ranger, about what Rita did to me. But if this is something real, then I have to.
And I think… I want to.
Kat pauses, staring at the last words she'd written. She was pensive but could feel her heart pounding a little harder in her chest. And then—
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP.
The communicator – beeping at 10:22 at night,
She grabbed it quickly, pressing the button. "Kat here."
Alpha's voice comes through, urgent but not panicked. "Kat, we have a situation. Another incident between a Tenga and a homeowner. Report to the Power Chamber immediately."
She closed the diary and set her pen down before teleporting away.
Red and blue emergency lights pulsed across the quiet street as the Power Rangers arrived in a flash of multicolored light. The Angel Grove Police Department had already secured the area, their cruisers forming a loose perimeter around the scene.
A wounded Tenga lay sprawled on the pavement, its purple-feathered body heaving with ragged breaths. Nearby, two officers stood over it, AR-15 patrol rifles trained, fingers hovering near the triggers. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut.
Tommy, Adam, and Rocky took the lead toward the officers and the injured Tenga, while Kat and Tanya veered off toward the homeowner—a middle-aged man with graying hair, still gripping a massive .44 Magnum revolver in a shaky hand. His wife stood beside him, holding his arm as though keeping him grounded.
One of the officers gave the Rangers a glance before motioning toward the Tenga with his rifle. "Looks like this one had an acute failure in the victim-selection process."
Rocky frowned under his helmet. "Meaning?"
The officer shrugged. "Picked the wrong house." His voice was almost regretful—as if the mistake had been that the Tenga survived.
The other officer snorted, shifting his grip. "I'd hate for it to make a false move," he said, voice dripping with dry humor. "The paperwork would be a pain."
Tommy frowned beneath his helmet. He wasn't sure what bothered him more—their cavalier attitude, or the fact that they weren't entirely wrong.
The wounded Tenga twitched slightly, groaning in pain.
Adam stepped forward, his tone firm. "Stand down. We'll handle this."
The officers hesitated before slowly lowering their weapons. "Your show, Rangers."
Tommy exchanged a glance with Rocky and Adam before kneeling beside the Tenga. It was still conscious, barely, its beady yellow eyes filled with pain.
"Looks bad," Rocky muttered. "Surprised it's alive."
"Three gunshot wounds," Adam noted grimly. "It's not going to fly again."
The Tenga let out a weak, pained squawk, its clawed hands twitching.
Tommy sighed. "Let's get it out of here."
The Rangers worked quickly, securing the injured creature for transport.
A few feet away, Kat and Tanya approached the shaken homeowner. The man was still gripping the .44 Magnum in his hands, staring at the gun as though he barely recognized it.
"I… I've never shot at a living thing before," he muttered.
Kat gently placed a hand on his arm. "Are you alright, sir?"
The man swallowed hard. "I… I only bought this thing 'cause my wife and I are big Dirty Harry fans. Never actually thought I'd have to use it on a living thing."
His wife rubbed his back soothingly. "It was that creature or us."
Tanya gave a small nod. "We understand. You did what you had to do."
The man looked at her, still shaken. "But it's still alive. That thing's gonna be crippled for life because of me."
Kat hesitated. The part of her that remembered what the Tengas had done—what Rita had done—wanted to tell him not to feel guilty. But another part of her did feel sorry for the creature, now lying weakly in its own blood.
"It attacked you," she said finally. "You defended yourself."
The man nodded slowly, but the haunted look in his eyes remained.
The Rangers stood in the Power Chamber, still processing what had happened.
Rocky crossed his arms. "Okay, so… what did that cop mean by an acute failure in the victim-selection process?"
Billy adjusted his glasses. "It's a phrase sometimes used in military and law enforcement contexts. It means that the attacker misjudged their target—essentially, they expected easy prey and got the opposite."
Tanya folded her arms. "And the other officer? He hated the idea of extra paperwork more than the fact that a living creature almost died tonight."
Kat shifted uncomfortably. "They were acting like the Tenga was already dead. Like it didn't matter."
Tommy exhaled. "I don't know if they were wrong. That thing could've killed the homeowner if he hadn't fought back. We got real lucky with that party in Amber Beach."
The other Rangers nodded soberly, recalling the college party crashed by Tengas, leaving eight students on spring break in the hospital.
Adam frowned. "And what happens next time? Do people just start shooting at monsters on sight?"
A heavy silence filled the room.
Finally, Tommy spoke. "Maybe it's time we ask the Alien Rangers for help. If these attacks keep happening, we're going to need more support."
No one disagreed.
Back in her room. Kat was in bed, holding a pen before putting it to the paper in her diary.
I didn't think I'd be writing again tonight. I thought I had already poured out everything I had to say.
I was wrong.
We responded to another Tenga attack tonight. Only this time, the Tenga survived.
But it won't be flying again.
The homeowner—he wasn't some gung-ho vigilante. He wasn't proud of what he did. He was shaken. He'd only ever bought that gun because he liked "Dirty Harry" movies. He never thought he'd actually have to use it on another living being.
I don't know how to feel about it.
Part of me feels sorry for the Tenga. I know that sounds ridiculous—it's a Tenga, one of Rita's minions. I've fought dozens of them. One of them kidnapped me so Rita could put me under that spell. But this one?
It wasn't just a monster anymore.
It was crippled.
Permanently.
And then there were the police officers. The way they talked about it like it was just another thing. One of them even regretted that the homeowner hadn't killed it outright. And maybe that's the part that unsettles me the most.
Because if they're already thinking like that, what happens next time?
And then… there's Hal.
He wasn't there, but I found myself thinking about what he said at the Youth Center, about the other Tenga that was killed. He called it the least tragic outcome. And tonight, watching that homeowner, watching that Tenga suffering, I kept hearing those words.
And I can't help but wonder…
What would Hal have said if he'd been there tonight?
Would he have felt sorry for the creature? Or would he have just accepted it as the natural conclusion of a fight it shouldn't have picked?
And more than that—what does it say about me that I'm even wondering?
I don't know where any of this is leading.
All I know is that tonight, I saw something that I don't think I'll ever forget.
And I don't know if the world is ever going to be the same.