Wednesdays were for the memorial. Thursdays were for Camilia Valerte. Sundays were for Black's mom and dad. Each other day was a blur of simulator scenarios or passed in a drunken haze. It was a routine Joey had established in the years since everything had fallen apart—a routine that gave him some semblance of purpose when there was little else left.
Joey DiMarco didn't attend the memorial service for the fallen. It was Wednesday. He always visited his team on Wednesdays. The ceremony and the speeches, the flags and the solemn praises—they didn't mean anything to him. He had his own ritual, a private one that held far more meaning than any public display of commemoration could. It was something he never missed, not even in his darkest days.
A hill, just outside Cincarion, sheltered by the sprawling branches of a massive oak tree, was where Joey had built his own memorial. A place far from the crowds and the cameras. A place that only he and Nova knew. Beneath the tree, four simple markers stood, each one carved with the names of his fallen team members. The leaves rustled softly in the wind, and from this vantage point, he could see the skyline of Cincarion in the distance—strong, standing, but changed, just like him.
"You ready, Nova?" Joey asked aloud, his voice barely more than a whisper. He knelt in front of the markers, his eyes scanning over each name, pausing on every curve of every letter.
"Always ready," Nova replied, her voice echoing in his helmet. She knew what this day meant to him, and there was no need for her usual playful tone. She was solemn, steady—a reflection of the gravity in Joey's heart.
He started with the Black Ranger. Bastion. The AI had matched Black perfectly—stoic, steadfast, and fiercely protective. Joey could still remember Black's heavy laughter, the way he'd always stand at the front, shielding the others, taking hit after hit without ever backing down. Bastion was always there too, providing his unwavering support. They were a pair defined by their endurance, by their ability to weather any storm together.
He loved boxing, a passion that had started when he was just a kid, long before Countdown had torn the world apart. It wasn't just about the fight for him; it was about feeling every impact, the visceral connection that came with every punch, every block. It was about digging deep, pushing beyond the limits, refusing to back down no matter how many times he was knocked to the ground. Joey could still picture him in the gym, the rhythmic thud of fists against a heavy bag, the way Black's face would light up with a grin as he coached the others, urging them to push harder, to be better.
Black's laughter had been a constant—deep, resonant, and full of life. He was the one who stood at the front, shielding the others, taking hit after hit without ever giving ground. He had been their wall, their shield, always the first to protect and the last to retreat. Bastion, his AI, had been just as steadfast. Quiet and true, always there, always watching. Joey remembered how Bastion never wasted words, speaking only when it mattered most. Nova remembered too—she remembered Bastion's silence, the kind that spoke volumes without ever needing to say a thing. And now, she wished he had said more when he was here. They were a pair defined by their endurance, by their ability to weather any storm together."
You would've been proud of how far we made it, buddy," Joey said quietly, his fingers brushing against the marker. He paused, taking a deep breath. "If nothing else, it was a non-stop blitz. You would've loved it—charging forward without hesitation, smashing through every obstacle in our way. It was the kind of fight you thrived on, the kind of battle where you could just keep moving, never backing down. You always loved being at the front, leading us through the worst of it."
Joey's voice wavered, a hint of a smile touching his lips. "You were always the toughest of us, the one who could take anything and still keep going. I wish I could've been half as strong as you. It felt like, as long as you were there, we were invincible. But now... now I realize just how much of that strength was you." He let his fingers linger on the cold stone, feeling the weight of everything they had lost. "I hope, wherever you are, you know that I tried to carry that forward. But damn, I wish you were here to lead us one more time."
Next, he moved to the Yellow Ranger and Echo. Yellow had always been different—adaptable, intuitive, almost serene in the chaos of battle. She was from Aquitar, a humanoid race that had evolved from an octopus-like species. Her skin had a natural camouflage, shifting colors not just for survival, but reflecting her mood like a living mood ring. Aquitarians didn't lie; they wore their emotions on their skin, their honesty as fluid and changing as the ocean tides.
Yellow was also the favorite daughter of High Priestess Delphine—a former Ranger herself and the de facto leader of the Aquitarian colonies on Earth. Yellow and Delphine both lived in Auroralis, an underwater colony in the Arctic Ocean. Joey often wondered how much of Yellow's strength came from her mother, and how much of Delphine's hope had lived on in Yellow, even after everything they'd been through.
Yellow brought that calmness with her everywhere she went. She had a way of embracing the chaos, as if the battlefield was just another underwater ecosystem, each moving part following its own flow and pace. Echo, her AI, mirrored that part of her—a reflection of her comfort in uncertainty, her belief in finding serenity within the chaos. It was the same belief that let her glide through the worst moments of combat with an almost unnatural ease.
Nova's voice came through, softer now, filled with her own grief. "I miss Echo," she admitted. "I miss the way she always knew how to make sense of the chaos, like she could see a pattern none of us could. It's strange... the quiet feels emptier without her." Joey could feel the weight of her words, the shared loss that lingered between them, a bond forged in the pain of what they had both lost.
Joey could still hear her voice, soft and assured, as she carved her way through enemies with the grace of someone who truly understood her place in the universe. She moved like water—swift, fluid, and untouchable—turning every chaotic moment into something that seemed almost beautiful in its precision. But Yellow was also deadly—like a predator in the sea that silently stalked its prey. When she struck, it was quick, efficient, and lethal. There was no hesitation, no second chances. She moved with the purpose and lethality of something born to the hunt, and that was what made her presence on the battlefield so awe-inspiring and terrifying all at once.
"I miss your confidence," he admitted. "You always seemed to know where we were meant to be, even when the rest of us didn't have a clue."
He moved to the Pink Ranger's marker next. Prism. She had been their sniper, their long-range specialist—cold, calculating, with a dark humor that cut through the tension of the battlefield. Pink was a citizen of CoralVault, a city that included both underwater sections and a domed city above ground, built along the southern coasts of Australia. But despite that, she always considered Hawaii her real home—a place that no longer housed anyone after Countdown, but one she held dearly in her heart.
Pink was a young Asian woman with jet-black hair, her athleticism evident in every step she took. She had trained for the Olympics from a very young age, destined for greatness before the war changed everything. Yet, even after the transition to becoming a Ranger, she never let go of her talents. She remained an exceptional gymnast, her agility and precision translating seamlessly into her role as a sniper, where every movement mattered.
Joey remembered her demeanor shifting whenever she had her sights set. It was like a switch had been flipped—ruthless and determined, her voice laced with gallows humor that kept the rest of the team steady in the darkest moments. She would make crude jokes, sometimes so inappropriate that it left the others in stunned silence before bursting into nervous laughter. It was how she coped, and how she kept them all from falling apart.
Pink had been his first friend, the one who had pulled him through the worst of it all. They had both gone through Alphabet, a program designed to stabilize war orphans through therapy and grief counseling. But while many of the other kids either imploded or turned to others for help, Joey and Pink had relied solely on each other. They had been each other's anchors when the world had crumbled around them, and that bond only grew stronger with every fight, every shared loss, every moment they stood side by side. She had been fierce but compassionate in her own way—protective of Joey, always pushing him to be better, to face every challenge head-on.
Prism, her AI, had always matched her intensity, amplifying her focus and precision, never letting her attention waver. Joey could still see her now, standing at her sniper's perch, her jet-black hair pulled back, her eyes focused and unyielding, making jokes that were as sharp as her aim. She had been a force of nature, someone who could find humor in the bleakest of situations, and Joey missed that. He missed her."
You'd be laughing at me right now," Joey said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Chastising me for being such a pathetic, sentimental bastard. You'd tell me my whining could dry up a desert, let alone any woman within earshot. You'd call me a sap, tell me to quit wallowing in self-pity, and then you'd drag my sorry ass into some wild scheme just to watch me squirm. That's how you were—always pushing me out of my comfort zone, always making sure I faced the things I wanted to run from, whether I was ready or not."
He paused, the smile fading as a wave of grief washed over him. "You always knew how to take the edge off, even when everything was falling apart. There was no one like you—sharp as a blade, ruthless with your humor, but somehow always there when it mattered most. You were the first to pull me out of my shell, to make me face the darkness instead of hiding from it. And damn it, I'll always be grateful for that. I just wish... I wish you were still here to do it now."
"Nova's voice was filled with a mix of regret and longing. "Prism looked up to me like I was the perfect older sister," she said, her words almost hesitant. "She admired me, Joey. She thought I had all the answers, that I could guide her when things got tough. But I wasn't enough. I should have been the role model she deserved—the one she needed. She always had this spark, this relentless drive, and I should have helped her nurture it. Instead, I let her down. I miss her, Joey. I miss the way she believed in me, and I wish I could have been the sister she thought I was."
Finally, he came to the Red Ranger. Aegis. She had been their leader—their heart. Strong, brave, and unyielding, always pushing them forward, always first through the breach. Like him, she was a citizen of Cincarion, but she was so much more than that. Red had been like Black in so many ways—disciplined, athletic, a force to be reckoned with. But she also had a compassion and an extreme sense of accountability that made her unique. She protected her team first and foremost, always balancing duty with circumstance. She never hesitated to listen to those around her if they had insight or clarity, regardless of their rank.
If all the AIs were siblings, then Aegis and Nova were more like twins—so alike, yet each with their own distinct traits. Nova could feel Joey's grief as he stood there, and she too felt the pang of loss. Red had been the one they all looked up to, the one who had kept them going when everything seemed impossible. Joey often found himself talking to her memory when he felt lost, just as Nova found herself reaching for Aegis in those moments, even though they both knew they were gone. It was an ache that refused to fade, a reminder of the people they had once been and the future that had died with Red.
She would listen, consider every perspective, and then make her decision, fully accepting whatever consequences might come. Joey could still see her standing at the front, her dual pistols blazing, her voice ringing out with commands that kept them all alive. She had always been athletic, muscular, the kind of person who never backed down from a challenge. She loved riding motorcycles, the thrill of the speed, the wind in her hair—but she hated the maintenance that came afterward, often leaving that to someone else. Aegis, her AI, had been her unwavering partner, providing tactical brilliance and an unbreakable support that reflected her relentless determination.She would listen, consider every perspective, and then make her decision, fully accepting whatever consequences might come. Joey could still see her standing at the front, her dual pistols blazing, her voice ringing out with commands that kept them all alive. She had always been athletic, muscular, the kind of person who never backed down from a challenge. She loved riding motorcycles, the thrill of the speed, the wind in her hair—but she hated the maintenance that came afterward, often leaving that to someone else. Aegis, her AI, had been her unwavering partner, providing tactical brilliance and an unbreakable support that reflected her relentless determination.
"You should've been here, Red," Joey whispered, his voice breaking. "You were always the one who kept us going. I tried. God, I tried. But I couldn't do it without you. You would've been better for them, for the alliance. You wouldn't have crumbled like I did. Your strength, your dignity—it would have made all the difference. You should have survived, not me."
He closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him. He could still hear their laughter, still remember the way they would banter during training, still feel the weight of their presence beside him in battle. They weren't just his teammates—they were his family. And now, they were gone, leaving him with nothing but silence and a gaping void where they had once been.
"Sometimes," Joey began, his voice strained, "I think about what it'd be like if I'd gone with them. If I hadn't made it out." He swallowed, the words heavy on his tongue. "I know they wouldn't want me thinking that, but it's hard, Nova. It's so damn hard."Nova's response was quiet, almost uncertain. "I know, Joey. I think... I think they'd understand why you feel that way. It's hard for me too. I keep thinking that if I could've done more, maybe—maybe things would have been different." Her voice trailed off, filled with regret and loss.
He opened his eyes, staring up at the oak's branches as they swayed in the breeze, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across the ground. "It doesn't feel like much of a story," he admitted. "Feels more like a nightmare sometimes."
"Maybe," Nova said softly, "but it's the one we have left. And it's ours, Joey. It's all we have." There was no comfort in her words, only a shared understanding of the pain they both carried.
Joey nodded, his hand still resting on the marker. He bowed his head, allowing the weight of the moment to settle over him, feeling the sadness, the anger, and the loss. He could almost hear them—his team—telling him to get up, to keep moving, to fight for something more than just revenge. But the fight had ended, and he didn't know what else to do.
He sighed, a long, tired breath. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a flask. He unscrewed the top, pouring a small amount onto the ground before taking a drink himself. "To the best damn team in the universe," he said, his voice cracking. "To the ones who should still be here."
"To the ones who gave everything," Nova added, her voice reverent, but tinged with the same sorrow Joey felt.
For a long while, Joey sat there, staring at the markers. He didn't cry; he hadn't been able to in years. But the emptiness in his chest was almost unbearable, a weight that pressed down on him until he could barely breathe. He stayed until the sun dipped below the horizon, until the wind turned cold, and the sky above darkened to a deep indigo.