Blue's guess was right. The brass had taken Black back to Solari Delta in Northern Africa, to a command facility nestled between rugged mountain ridges and the vast desert sands. The facility was both isolated and secure, a stronghold perfect for keeping soldiers like Black in check. His parents, Simone and Isaac, lived in the nearby residential area—a reminder that even the toughest soldiers sometimes needed their family close by. Blue knew that if Black were ever released, his parents would be waiting for him. As strong as Black was, having family close was always a comfort, especially for someone who had seen and survived so much.
What Blue and Nova hadn't expected, though, was Aisha waiting by the teleport pad as if she had known they were coming. She worked mid-tier operations now, dealing with logistics, but every time he arrived at Solari Delta to visit black's parents, she was there—waiting. It felt like more than a coincidence, something that nagged at Blue every visit.
"How does she do that?" Blue muttered under his breath as they stepped off the teleport pad. His eyes flicked toward Aisha, standing casually with a knowing expression.
I could double-check her credentials again, Nova offered, suspicion lacing her tone. She's always right on time, and not even high-level personnel get this much intel on our movements.
Aisha didn't waste time with small talk. As soon as Blue's eyes met hers, she gave him a nod. "He's waiting for you," she said, her voice calm, almost too calm. "The interrogator's out to lunch—it'll be a while before they're back."
Her directness caught Blue off guard, but he nodded in thanks, his mind already racing ahead to what lay in front of him. How does she always know? He asked himself, again.
Getting through security was surprisingly smooth. Every checkpoint seemed ready for him, officers barely glancing at his credentials as he passed through. It wasn't just luck—Servo and Kilokahn had worked their magic, ensuring his path was clear. Not that we couldn't have done this ourselves, Blue thought, but this way, no one's paying attention.
Finally, Blue reached the interrogation room. The cold, sterile air greeted him as he entered, a sharp contrast to the outside heat of Solari Delta. Inside, Black was slouched in the lone metal chair, his posture casual but his eyes closed, head tilted back as if disinterested or too exhausted to care. The room itself was as bare as it could get—four white walls, a single table between them, and two chairs, all illuminated by the harsh overhead light that seemed to flatten everything into a dull haze. The emptiness of the space gnawed at Blue, a reminder that this was designed to wear down even the strongest of minds.
Blue let the door shut behind him quietly, his eyes locking onto his old friend. Black hadn't changed. Not a single mark of age lined his face. His shoulders were as broad and strong as they'd always been, the same man Blue had fought alongside ten years ago. Yet here they were—one looking like a ghost of the past, the other, Blue, carrying the weight of those lost years in every line and crease on his face.
"Not breaking anything today, Black?" Blue's voice broke the silence, a teasing lilt to his tone, though the words were laced with unspoken tension. "What? No walls to smash? I could grab you a stress ball—if you get bored, you could always throw it at the interrogator. If he mouths off, I mean."
Black's eyelids fluttered open slowly, his expression shifting into one of mild confusion as he blinked at the sight of Blue. His brows furrowed, as though he couldn't quite make sense of who stood before him. "Blue?" His voice was rougher than Blue remembered, the surprise cutting through his usual calm. "You look..." His eyes narrowed as he scanned Blue, lingering on the faint streaks of gray at his temples. "Old. The gray suits you, though."
There was a flicker of the old Black in those words, the one who had ribbed him during training missions, always half-joking that Blue would end up hunched over from too much time at the terminal, with a belly to match. That humor brought a small grin to Blue's face, despite the weight of the moment.
Blue chuckled softly, but there was a tightness to his voice. "Me? Old? I'm exactly the age I'm supposed to be." His gaze hardened slightly as he added, "You, though... You haven't aged a day in ten years."
The words hung in the air for a moment before Black's expression shifted into something more serious. His brow furrowed deeply, confusion clouding his eyes. "Ten years?" he repeated, but this time his voice was softer, hesitant, as if the idea hadn't yet fully registered. The words felt foreign on his tongue.
Blue leaned against the edge of the table, his arms crossed, studying Black's reaction carefully. He'd expected confusion, but seeing the disbelief etched across his friend's face hit harder than he'd imagined.
"They didn't tell you yet, did they?" Blue's voice softened, though there was a sharpness just beneath the surface. "You're dead, Black. KIA at the Battle of Ceres. The ten-year anniversary was earlier this week."
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint hum of the overhead light, the sterile buzz that always seemed louder in silence. Black's face twisted in confusion, his frown deepening, the lines between his brows hardening into something darker—disbelief, suspicion.
Black's expression shifted, a sharp intensity lighting up his eyes as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. The curiosity that had lingered before was now charged with something new—excitement, even eagerness. He'd always been one to embrace challenges head-on, and now that same energy filled the air between them. "So, that Blue Ranger we ran into in the jungle and later in the mineshaft," he began, his voice low and brimming with a barely-contained edge, "was that really you? Or did finally find a way to get this morpher off our wrists?"
He paused, his eyes narrowing as he studied Blue's expression, seeking any hint of deception. "You fought differently, man. It wasn't just the teleportation or that way you slipped through terrain like it was nothing. You used powers that weren't yours. You had my strength—you absorbed my Overcharge. And in the mine, you pulled off that trick with Pink's decoys, using her holographic clones like they were yours." Black's voice grew more incredulous, yet there was a note of admiration in it too. "I thought those were supposed to be locked to each of us. But you… you managed to copy them. How?"
Black's gaze grew sharper, his words now carrying a hint of challenge, almost daring Blue to explain. "Did you steal them somehow? Did you find a way to permanently keep them? Or is there some new trick I don't know about?"
There was a dangerous undertone in Black's voice, the same kind of edge he'd had back when they trained together, when every sparring match was a chance to test themselves against one another. But beneath it, Blue sensed something else—a thrill, the kind that came from seeing someone break the rules and make the impossible possible. Black had seen Blue do it before with code, breaking through systems and barriers that should have held firm. But the idea that Blue might have found a way to take abilities through the Morphing Grid itself? That was a different level altogether.
Blue met Black's probing gaze evenly, letting the silence stretch between them before finally responding. He lifted his wrist, revealing the morpher strapped securely to it. The faint blue glow pulsed gently against his skin, a reminder of the connection to the Grid that hummed just beneath the surface. He held it up, letting Black take in the sight.
"Does this answer your question?" Blue asked, his tone light but edged with something harder. He watched as Black's eyes fixated on the morpher, the realization crossing his features. But what caught Blue's attention was the look that followed—a flicker of excitement, a hunger for the challenge it represented. To Black, this new version of Blue, the one who could apparently bend the Grid's rules, was something to be tested, pushed to the limits.
Black's smile shifted into a grin, the kind that promised a fight, his voice charged with energy. "I don't know what trick you've got up your sleeve, but I wouldn't mind testing it out. You and me—one-on-one. Let's see if those new skills of yours hold up."
Blue allowed a faint smile, but inside, his thoughts kept spinning. Black thought it was a permanent change, that Blue's ability to access the powers of the other Rangers was something he could call on whenever he needed. But the reality was different—far more fleeting. Every time he used a borrowed power, it burned out like a match flame. He had to take it again if he wanted to use it again, each morph resetting him to square one.
But he wasn't about to let Black in on that secret. Not yet. "Maybe one day," he replied, keeping his tone measured, letting a touch of mystery linger in his voice. "But until then, you'll just have to wonder."
Black's eyes glinted with that familiar fire, his eagerness barely restrained. "You know I'm not going to drop this, right? One way or another, I'm going to find out how you did it."
Blue let out a small laugh, his mind already turning over the implications of their conversation. Black's relentless curiosity, his hunger for the challenge, all of it was exactly what he'd expect... except for what wasn't there. The questions that should have come first, the ones that would have been about his parents, his fiancée, the people who meant everything to him. That's what tugged at Blue's mind, making the conversation feel like a dance with an offbeat rhythm. But he kept his expression smooth, letting none of his thoughts slip through.
For now, he'd let Black think he was the one holding all the cards.
Blue leaned against the table, maintaining a casual posture as he watched Black closely. He let his voice stay light, but his mind was racing, dissecting every word, every gesture. Black might have been trying to project that same easygoing bravado he always had, but something about the interaction nagged at Blue. This wasn't how things were supposed to go.
After missions, even the ones that had come too close to killing them all, Black's first move had always been the same. He'd check in with his parents, Simone and Isaac, and his fiancée, letting them know he was okay. It was automatic, as much a part of him as his skill with an axe—Black wasn't the type to leave people hanging, especially not his family. He knew how much it meant to them to hear his voice after everything he'd been through, to know that their son, their partner, had made it back.
But now, as he sat across from Blue, there wasn't a single mention of them. No casual question about whether his parents were still living in Solari Delta, no comment about whether his fiancée had stayed in their old home. Instead, Black's focus was fixed entirely on Blue and the powers he'd displayed, the ones he had borrowed during the battle. It was all combat, all challenge, like the rest of the world—the people that had always grounded him—didn't matter anymore.
Black leaned back in his chair, letting out a slow breath as his posture relaxed, the tension easing from his shoulders. His eyes held a hint of that old humor, but there was an edge to it, like a blade dulled from overuse. He crossed his arms loosely, shifting in the metal chair as if it was suddenly more comfortable.
"So, what's it gonna be, Blue?" he asked, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "You here to walk me out of this place, or am I gonna have to break myself out? Because, honestly, these interrogators have been asking the dumbest questions I've ever heard. I swear, if Dr. Zophram asks me about my childhood trauma one more time, I'm gonna snap his neck."
His tone was light, but the words carried a weight that settled heavily between them. Blue could see it in the way Black's jaw tightened, in the flash of frustration that crossed his face. Blue knew Black's patience always had a breaking point—and it sounded like he was just about there.
Blue leaned forward, his fingers gripping the cold edge of the metal table, feeling the subtle vibrations from the hum of the overhead light. The air in the room seemed to thicken, pressing in around them, amplifying every breath, every shift of fabric. He kept his voice low, controlled, but each word hit the space between them with the weight of a command. "Before you think about breaking out of here, we need to talk, Black. About Ceres. About what really happened back there."
Black's eyes snapped to Blue's, curiosity breaking through the casual defiance he'd been projecting. The playful smirk faded as a sharper edge of wariness replaced it, his shoulders tensing, and he straightened in his chair. Blue could sense the shift—Black's guard coming up, his instincts kicking in. It was a familiar posture, one he'd seen in countless briefings before a mission turned hot.
Blue let a brief silence stretch between them, just long enough for the tension to build, then continued. "HQ called me in before I got here," he said, letting the words fall like a challenge. "They've got theories. Say our memories might've been tampered with—yours, mine, the whole team's. Something about the helmet cams recording... discrepancies. Things that don't match up with what we remember."
As he spoke, a shimmer of light appeared between them, and a small holographic projection of Nova materialized on the table, her form sharp against the dull room. She crossed her arms, her gaze settling on Black with an intensity that mirrored Blue's. Her presence added a tangible weight to the room, a reminder that whatever secrets Black thought he could hide, Nova would drag them into the open.
"Discrepancies is putting it mildly," Nova cut in, her voice precise, clinical. "The helmet footage shows different versions of events, Black. And not just errors in playback—actual variations in what you and the others experienced." She leaned in, her holographic form flickering slightly as she projected a tiny image above her hand—a static-filled clip from Black's helmet feed, showing flashes of combat and Blood Plague's towering figure.
Black's expression darkened, his confusion twisting into something more raw—pain. He rubbed the back of his neck, his fingers digging into the muscle as if trying to ground himself in the present. His voice, when he spoke, carried a jagged edge, a mix of disbelief and something deeper, almost haunted. "You're saying they messed with our heads?" he asked, the words tight and bitter. "That's not possible. I know what I saw, Blue. Blood Plague tore you apart, tore us all apart. Red... Yellow... Pink... they fell, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. I watched it happen. I watched you die, and I couldn't stop any of it."
The memory seemed to claw at him, his breathing growing heavier. He looked down, jaw clenched, a shadow crossing his face. "I tried, Blue. I tried to reach you, to hold the line, to push back... but it was like the ground kept slipping away beneath me. Like every time I got a foothold, he tore it out from under us." His voice cracked, raw with unspoken guilt, each word carrying the weight of those final moments on Ceres. "I couldn't save you. I couldn't save any of you."
Blue's gaze sharpened, leaning closer, feeling the intensity of those words settle in his chest like a weight. He kept his voice steady, though the question burned through the air between them. "But you're here now, Black. We're here. If Blood Plague killed us all, how are we standing here, talking?"
Nova's holographic form shifted slightly, her expression unyielding as she pressed the point further. "You have to admit, Black, it doesn't make sense. If you remember us dying, how are we having this conversation now? Why doesn't any of this add up?" Her voice was precise, eyes unblinking as she sought to pierce through the fog of his memory.
Black looked from Blue to Nova, his jaw tight, the muscles working beneath his skin. He shifted in his chair, leaning back as if trying to ease the weight pressing down on him. "Who knows, Blue?" He let out a dry, humorless laugh, though it was tinged with the desperation of someone struggling to find solid ground. "Wouldn't be the first time we got knocked down and somehow came back. Maybe someone patched us up, maybe the stars aligned, or hell, maybe it's just dumb luck. I don't know."
The words tumbled out with a tired shrug, a defense mechanism against the uncertainty swirling around him. "I woke up in that room, and here I am. You're alive, I'm alive, the team's alive—does it really matter how we got here? Dwelling on the details just messes with your head, you know?"
Nova's holographic form flickered, her expression remaining composed but her frustration palpable. "But the details do matter, Black. They're the difference between understanding what happened and walking into the next ambush blind."
Black met Blue's eyes, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. "Like I said, who knows? Maybe someone patched us up, maybe it's some kind of miracle—does it matter? We're here now, aren't we?"
Before he could say more, a faint hum filled the air, and Nova's holographic form flickered to life on the table between them, her expression unyielding. She looked directly at Black, her voice cool but insistent. "That's not what your helmet footage shows, Black."
Black's gaze snapped down to Nova, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean?"
Black's eyes snapped to Nova, confusion flashing across his face. "What do you mean?" He shot a glance at Blue, but the cold determination in his old friend's expression made it clear this wasn't a joke or a trick.
Nova raised her hand, and a small projection of the helmet cam footage hovered above the table, flickering into clarity. "Your memory and reality don't match. The camera saw something different. You didn't watch Blue die." Her tone hardened as she gestured to the scene playing out before them. "It wasn't some heroic last stand, Black. You were caught in the chaos, just like the rest of us."
The air grew dense with the sound of the footage coming to life—gunfire, the clash of weapons, the distant screams of war. In the footage, Blood Plague's massive silhouette towered over the battlefield, the eerie hum of his crimson armor vibrating through the air. The screen showed Elvinurus forces surging forward, pushing the Rangers to their limits. Black's breath quickened as he saw himself, fighting alongside the others, their desperate attempts to hold the line against an overwhelming enemy.
"Shields deployed, Blue! Watch your left!" Nova's voice crackled through the comms, distant yet familiar.
Then the scene shifted. Blood Plague broke through their defenses, his presence casting a shadow over everything. He charged, his movements fluid and terrifyingly fast, and in that moment, the footage revealed something Black hadn't remembered. Blue had been on the ground, struggling to push himself up, the fight slowly slipping from his grasp.
Suddenly, Red appeared in the frame, her eyes blazing with determination, desperation, or maybe both. Her movements were instinctual, driven by sheer adrenaline. There was no strategy, no thought—just a raw, reflexive reaction to seeing her teammate in danger. She pivoted, her foot snapping out with brutal force, catching Blue in the chest. The impact sent him flying backward, straight into the unstable, flickering vortex of the makeshift portal.
Blue's form vanished through the shimmering distortion, the energy of the portal crackling and surging around him before it collapsed entirely, sealing the path behind him. It was not a calculated save—it was a desperate, violent act born of the chaos and terror of that final stand.
Nova's voice cut through the footage as it paused, her holographic form standing firm on the table. "You can see it, Black. Red didn't plan it. She didn't save him. She reacted." Her gaze bore into Black's. "And you were left behind."
The realization struck Black like a physical blow, his breath catching in his throat. He leaned closer to the projection, as if proximity would change what he was seeing. "No... no, that's not how it was," he muttered, his voice rough with disbelief. "Blood Plague—he... we were losing, and Blue was down—"
The sound of the battlefield faded, leaving only the quiet hum of the hologram and the heavy breaths of the two Rangers. The projection lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of the chaos they had lived through—each detail stark and unchangeable, replaying a version of events that shattered Black's memory.
The silence stretched on, tense and charged. Black's fists clenched on the table as he wrestled with the conflicting images—his memory, the footage, and the chilling sense that his mind had betrayed him. "This... this doesn't make sense," he said, his voice strained, barely more than a whisper. "I felt it, Nova. I felt it when we all fell."
He forced a shaky laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh. "Hell, I don't care how or why. I just know that we're here, that the team's alive, and that you're not some fever dream from that jungle. All those details? They'll just give you a headache if you try to untangle them."
"Bastion and I... we never stopped talking, you know?" Black's words came slowly, as though he was still piecing together the thoughts even now. His gaze dropped to his hands, fingers curling and uncurling against the table's cold surface. "He was right there in my head, every second of that fight—keeping me steady, cutting through the chaos like he always does."
Nova's holographic form flickered, her attention sharpening on Black. "What exactly did Bastion say during the battle? What was he seeing?"
Blue leaned in, catching the shift in Nova's tone. His curiosity mingled with a cautious edge as he folded his arms across his chest. "You think Bastion picked up on something the rest of us missed?"
Black's shoulders tightened, and he dragged a hand through his hair—a familiar gesture that spoke to the frustration boiling beneath his calm exterior. "I don't know, Blue. But there were moments, right before everything went dark... he wasn't himself. He kept saying things that didn't add up—phrases like 'displacement imminent,' and 'mission parameters compromised.'"
He paused, his brow furrowed deeper. "It was like he was trying to tell me something, but the words came out wrong—like they were twisted. Bastion's not like Nova or Aegis. He doesn't dance around with analysis or strategy. He takes the straight line, every time. If he was struggling with something... it had to be bad."
"He wasn't making sense, Blue," Black continued, his frustration breaking through the surface. "And he kept talking about coordinates that didn't match our location. He mentioned 'grid anomalies'—things that shouldn't have been there. It was like he was fighting to keep us on track, but something kept pulling him off course."
Nova's digital form flickered, her expression unreadable, but her presence in Blue's mind crackled with intensity. "Echo might have been able to find harmony in that kind of disruption," she said, her tone thoughtful.
Black's hands curled into fists on the table, his voice taking on a rougher edge. "Whatever we were dealing with, he knew it wasn't right. But he couldn't tell me what. Hell, maybe he didn't even understand it himself."
"Or maybe he was just as lost as I was. Either way, I need him back, Blue. His voice dropped lower, edged with desperation. "Without Bastion... it's like I'm fighting with one arm tied behind my back."
Nova's gaze softened, a rare note of empathy slipping into her tone. "Bastion's data could be crucial, Black. If he was aware of something beyond the battle, it might explain why your memories don't line up with the footage."
Blue shifted, his expression hardening as he leaned closer. "I'll do what I can to get Bastion back. But Alpha has to finish his analysis first."
Black's jaw tightened, but he nodded, though the determination in his eyes carried a dangerous edge. "Fine. But I'm not waiting forever, Blue. When the time comes, I'll get Bastion and my morpher back—whether you, Alpha, or anyone else likes it."
Black leaned back in his chair, studying Blue with a sharp, calculating gaze. He tilted his head, the curiosity plain on his face. "So, what's next on your agenda, Blue? Who do you plan on seeing after this little reunion?"
Blue crossed his arms, considering his next words carefully. "Pink's next on my list," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Figured it's time to see which version of her shows up—whether she's in the mood to crack jokes or ready to cause trouble. Either way, she's got a sharp eye, and I need to know what she remembers."
Black snorted, shaking his head. "Pink, huh? Good luck. Her idea of a mission report is more like a kid's coloring book than anything serious. I mean, how many times can you use the word 'pop' in an official document?
Blue couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah, but when she focuses, she can spot things the rest of us miss. You know how it is—sometimes, she just needs a reason to go a little deeper."
Black shrugged, looking unconvinced but letting the subject drop. "What about Yellow and Red?" he asked, leaning forward slightly, a trace of genuine curiosity in his voice.
"Yellow's back in Auroralis," Blue replied, his expression turning more serious. "They took her home for questioning. She's probably deep beneath the ice domes by now, facing her own debriefing from the Aquitarian High Council. They'll figure out what she knows in their own way."
Black's lips curled into a wry grin. "Figures. Those Aquitarians… High and mighty in their underwater city, thinking they don't need any help from us."
Blue nodded. "And Red? She's keeping herself busy, making the interrogators work for every word. She's in control, just like always, and you can bet she's already working on her next move."
Black's grin widened, a glint of admiration flashing in his eyes. "Yeah, that sounds like Red. Always two steps ahead, keeping everyone else on their toes. Just be careful, Blue—you know she doesn't like being backed into a corner."
Blue gave a small, knowing smile. "I'm counting on it. But right now, I've got my own plan. And it starts with making sure everyone's on the same page—or at least figuring out who's not."
"Just sit tight for now, Black. Keep your cool, and I'll handle the rest."
Black let out a long breath, cracking his knuckles. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't keep me waiting, Blue. You know I'm not the patient type."
With a final nod, Blue turned and headed for the door, casting one last look back at his old friend. Behind him, Black settled into his chair again, the flicker of frustration in his eyes tempered by the faint hope that, somehow, things might start to make sense again.