He headed over to The Grid—a little watering hole named by some barkeep who'd thought it'd be funny to associate his bar with the Power Rangers. Blue's team had laughed at the name when they'd first heard it, but it stuck. The place became a second home, where they celebrated milestones and mission accomplishments. Most people called the barkeep Bulk, a nickname he'd earned by being big enough to deserve it. Bulk was an Angel Grove survivor. He always told people he wasn't sure who the original Ranger team members were, but he had seen them save the day countless times, firsthand. His faith in the Rangers would never waver. Bulk was good people and he always kept the back table open for Joey, no matter how crowded it got.
When Blue walked through the doors, the soft hum of music greeted him. It was loud enough to notice, but not enough to drown out the conversation. Bulk saw him enter and brought over the usual—Bourbon—and promised that the sliders would be right up.
Joey settled at the back table—the same seat he always took, his back to the wall so he could keep an eye on the entrance. Unlike Red, Joey couldn't afford to trust anyone walking through the door. Vigilance was all he had left.
The Grid was crowded tonight. The air was thick with laughter and conversation, but Joey felt detached. Even in a full room, he felt hollow. The regulars knew better than to impose, and Joey preferred it that way. Sometimes, when he got drunk enough, he thought he could almost see them—crushing sliders, drinking beer, laughing, and watching Pink prey on some unsuspecting stud. Their presence would feel so real in those moments that he would swear he could hear their voices, smell the familiar scent of sweat and cologne after a mission well done.
When his glass ran dry, someone always refilled it without asking. Tonight was no different. Joey sipped his bourbon, the familiar burn warming his chest and dulling his thoughts. He stared into the glass, condensation blurring his reflection. It was late, later than he'd planned, but heading back felt worse. The Grid was more than just a bar—it was an anchor, a place that held echoes of better times.Bulk approached with the sliders, setting them down without a word. Joey returned Bulk's nod with a faint smile. Bulk knew better than to start a conversation—he always gave Joey his space. It was why Joey kept coming back.
The smell of food filled the air, but Joey wasn't hungry. He picked at the sliders, taking small bites out of habit. The bourbon, though—that he kept refilling, each drink pulling him further from reality."You're going to drink yourself to death at this rate," Nova's voice echoed in his mind, cutting through the haze. She wasn't wrong. But it was the only thing that quieted everything else. The memories, the pain—it all faded into the background when he was here, drunk and lost in the noise of the bar.
The door creaked open, and a couple of regulars shuffled in, taking their usual seats. Joey didn't acknowledge them, and they didn't bother him. Just like it had been since the first time he set foot in The Grid—everyone knew to leave Joey alone. Respect, maybe. Or pity. He wasn't sure which, and he didn't really care.
As the night wore on, the bourbon flowed freely, and Joey slipped deeper into the fog. The room blurred, music blending with muffled conversations. He was more than drunk—he was lost, floating between memories and reality, and alcohol was his only anchor.
He stared at the door, half-expecting someone to walk in—Black, maybe, or Red. Even Pink with her sarcastic smirk. But the door stayed closed, and the room remained the same.
"They're not coming back," Joey reminded himself, draining another glass. "It's just me and you now."
He set the empty glass down and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. The alcohol hit hard, blurring his thoughts. He closed his eyes, letting the room drift away. He imagined their voices—laughing, teasing him like they always did. The warmth settled in his chest for a moment before fading.The door slammed open with a burst of noise, and in walked six newcomers—young marines fresh from graduation, their energy palpable. They roared with laughter, loud enough to turn heads, their voices filled with confidence and the arrogance that came with fresh uniforms and a feeling of invincibility. They clapped each other on the back, swaggering into the bar like they owned the place, their bravado drowning out the usual chatter. Joey barely gave them a glance, his focus on his drink, until they started making their way toward his table.One of them, a tall, cocky marine, looked straight at Joey, his voice dripping with disdain. "Hey, old man. You don't think you get to hog this whole table by yourself, do you?" He gestured around the bar. "Place is packed. You should move along and let some real soldiers take your spot."One of them, a tall, cocky marine, looked straight at Joey, his voice dripping with disdain. "Hey, old man. You think a gridstain like you gets to hog this whole table by yourself?" He gestured around the bar. "Place is packed. You should move along and let some real soldiers take your spot, whiskey warrior.""The other marines laughed, egging him on. "A washed-up Ranger past his prime," one of them sneered. "What a loser. Letting your whole team die... some Ranger you turned out to be, casket crawler. I guess even a graveyard reject thinks they can be a hero."
The crowd went silent. Even the background music faded. Bulk, standing behind the bar, held his breath. No one dared to speak.That's when Nova materialized, right in front of the marines, her form sharp and her expression as cutting as her words. She looked around at the gathered crowd, gesturing lazily as she delivered her quip. "Six marines? This is the best they could send? I've seen stronger backbones in jellyfish. Maybe we should fetch you a set of crayons—you can practice staying inside the lines while the real soldiers handle the heavy lifting."The lead marine scowled, puffing out his chest. "A hologram? What, they sent a light show to back you up, old man? Rangers need AI babysitters now? Pathetic."
Nova arched an eyebrow, her holographic form leaning forward as if sharing a secret. "Babysitters? Oh, sweetheart, I'm usually tasked with keeping actual threats in line. As for you, I think you'd need more than a babysitter—maybe a nanny, or a nice, warm bottle before nap time." She eyed him up and down, her gaze dripping with feigned pity. "But you know, some cases are beyond help."
The marines exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of confusion and frustration. Another one stepped forward, his face twisted in anger. "You talk big for a glorified screensaver. Why don't you glitch back to the digital wasteland, huh? Or better yet, tell your relic here to clear out before we make things interesting."
Nova tilted her head, a wicked smile spreading across her face. "Oh, interesting? I was hoping you'd bring something besides those stale insults. But it's cute—marines playing tough guy. I'm still waiting to see if you've got anything besides bad posture and empty bravado."
Another marine, his face reddening with embarrassment and anger, jabbed a finger at Nova. "You got a big mouth for a ghost! Maybe we'll show you what real marines can do. We don't need to fight a light show to prove it."
Nova gave an exaggerated shiver, her voice dripping with mock fear. "Oh, no! Real marines! I'm quaking. Let me guess, you boys learned all this swagger at boot camp? Or was there an advanced seminar on how to bluff your way through a bar fight?"
he marines laughed awkwardly, trying to hold onto their bravado, but uncertainty showed in their eyes. One of them, a tall, muscular marine, stepped forward, glaring at Joey. "C'mon, old man, time to go," he said with disdain. "Your AI isn't going to save you from this."The hand on his shoulder became the trigger, his body reacting before his mind could catch up. His vision darkened, and the room around him dissolved.
Joey barely registered Nova's voice—her humor and sarcasm fading into background noise. The room felt distant, the sounds blurred together. He was detached, lost in his thoughts, until the marine's hand landed on his shoulder.
Something snapped. The present vanished beneath the weight of the past, the contact feeling like a threat, dragging him back into the chaos of Ceres—the screams, the violence, the helplessness—all rushing back. His heart rate spiked, adrenaline flooded his veins, and his vision narrowed, locking onto the perceived threat.
The marines disappeared—replaced by the Elvenarus, armored figures looming over him, faces twisted in malice. One stood out, clad in crimson armor—Blood Plague, the embodiment of his nightmares. The hand on his shoulder became a restraint, a threat, and Joey's fight-or-flight response kicked in with explosive force.Joey's body surged to life, his hand grabbing the marine's wrist, twisting it with a sickening crack that echoed through the bar. The marine howled in agony, his eyes wide with shock, but Joey wasn't done. He yanked the marine off balance with a brutal force, driving him face-first into the nearest table. The impact was devastating—wood splintered, drinks shattered, and shards flew in every direction. Blood splattered across the table as the marine's nose broke, his scream muffled by the splintering wood.The second marine barely had time to react before Joey's elbow smashed into his jaw with a sickening crunch. Teeth shattered, and blood sprayed from his mouth as he crumpled to the floor. Joey moved with deadly precision, his hands a blur as he caught the next marine in a chokehold, squeezing with relentless force. The marine's eyes bulged, his gasps turning into desperate wheezes. Joey drove his knee into the man's ribs with bone-crunching force, feeling the crack beneath the impact. He then flicked the marine aside like a ragdoll, sending him sprawling into the bar, his head smacking against the counter with a dull thud.The room watched in stunned silence as Joey moved through the marines like an unstoppable force. These were well-trained soldiers, but they were no match for Joey's brutal experience combined with the enhancements granted by the morpher that had bonded to him. His strength, agility, and reaction times were far beyond ordinary, making his movements swift and fluid. Each strike was precise, every blow calculated for maximum impact. He fought with a singular focus, driven by years of combat experience and the desperation of a man who had nothing left to lose.Another marine charged from behind, but Joey spun with lethal precision, his foot lashing out in a vicious kick to the man's kidney. The marine's face contorted in agony as he crumpled to the ground, a strangled cry escaping him. Another lunged at Joey, trying to grab his arm, but Joey twisted the man's arm behind his back with brutal force, the joint popping as ligaments tore. Joey then slammed him into the wall, bone hitting concrete with a sickening thud. The marine let out a choked groan as he slid down the wall, his eyes unfocused and dazed.The largest marine—the one who reminded Joey of Blood Plague—charged with a roar, his fists swinging wildly. Joey ducked under the punch with effortless speed, his enhanced reflexes kicking in. He grabbed the marine's collar and twisted it tightly, using the man's own weight and momentum against him. Joey wrenched him forward and sent him crashing into a row of chairs with brutal force. The chairs exploded under the impact, shards of wood scattering across the floor. The marine's body crumpled, hitting the ground with a bone-rattling thud. He gasped for breath, his ribs shattered, groaning in agony as he struggled to move but remained pinned by pain, unable to rise.It was over in moments—brutal, efficient, and grotesque. All six marines lay sprawled across the floor, groaning in agony, blood pooling around them. Some of their bodies twitched and spasmed involuntarily, limbs at unnatural angles, bones jutting beneath bruised and torn skin. One marine's jaw hung loosely, dislocated, while another gasped through broken ribs, each breath a strangled wheeze. Their earlier bravado had dissolved, replaced by the stark realization of their mistake. The bar was silent, every eye fixed on Joey. They had just witnessed what a Ranger could do, even without being fully morphed—still benefiting from the passive enhancements of the morpher, yet utterly unstoppable. The raw, unrestrained violence of it left the crowd stunned, too shaken to speak.Nova's voice came through, frantic, trying to snap Joey out of his episode, "Joey... Joey, it's over! They're not the enemy. You need to come back!" Her tone was filled with desperation and urgency, her words cutting through the haze, demanding his attention.His breathing was still ragged, his heart pounding in his ears, but Nova persisted. She increased the volume, her voice sharpening, "Joey, look at me. You need to focus. They're down, it's done. Come back to me."
A flicker of recognition crossed Joey's face, but the tension in his muscles didn't release. His fists remained clenched, the adrenaline still flooding his system. Nova knew she had to stabilize him, the chemical imbalances in his brain still out of control. She adjusted the neuro-chemical dampeners, dialing them up, trying to bring him back to baseline.
"Joey, please... it's me, Nova." Her voice softened, almost pleading. She projected herself through his HUD, her holographic form appearing before him, her expression full of concern. "Look at me, Joey. It's over. They're not the Elvenarus. They're just stupid kids who made a mistake."Joey blinked, his eyes struggling to focus on the hologram. The tension in his jaw eased slightly, his vision starting to clear. The bar, the marines, the shattered chairs—they all began to come back into view, the reality of the situation settling in.
"That's it," Nova encouraged, her voice steady, though a hint of worry still lingered. "Come back to the present. You're safe. They're not a threat anymore."
He swallowed hard, his throat dry, and let out a shaky breath. His hands unclenched, the rage slowly ebbing away as Nova's words anchored him. The marines on the floor were groaning, but they were alive. The bar patrons were still watching, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and disbelief.
"Nova..." Joey's voice was hoarse, the name barely escaping his lips. He looked at her holographic form, her familiar face, and finally, the fog began to lift.
"Yeah, Joey. I'm here," Nova replied, her tone gentle. "Just breathe. It's over." She kept her eyes on him, her presence unwavering as she watched him slowly come back to himself.The bar remained silent, the air thick with tension, but Nova's words were enough. Joey took another deep breath, his shoulders sagging as the fight drained out of him. He glanced at the marines, their broken bodies a stark reminder of his own instability.