As the General and the Imperator went on, Red sat in strained silence, her mind a storm of questions and doubts. Yellow's accusation lingered, casting an ugly shadow over everything she thought she knew. What exactly had Yellow seen to believe Blue had betrayed them? The thought gnawed at Red, a suspicion that refused to fade. It didn't add up. Yellow never threw around accusations lightly, but nothing about this situation fit the norms they had known. Logic unraveled at every turn, leaving Red lost in a labyrinth she couldn't escape.
Red recalled her encounter with Blue. He hadn't stumbled into her interrogation room unprepared. No, he came armed with an arsenal of evidence. Holo footage, pieced together with meticulous care, offered a complete view of the battlefield from every angle. Blue had anticipated her questions, steering their conversation with precise intent. He even presented projections of his interviews with Pink and Black, their discussions hauntingly vivid, every detail selected to underscore his truth. Despite her efforts to control the flow, she couldn't deny that Blue conversed with belief, not just pleading innocence but determined to prove something larger.
Nova had been there too, as sharp and meticulous as ever. She played back footage with flawless precision, analyzing patterns and keeping a watchful eye. Yet Red sensed something different. Worry radiated from Nova, a tension in her usually calm demeanor and something that might have escaped anyone that didn't know her so well. The AI seemed desperate to set the record straight, determined to prove that whatever was happening, as if my very presence wasn't a betrayal.
One glaring omission remained—Yellow. Blue hadn't reached her. It made sense. Sneaking into an Aquitarian city wasn't the same as infiltrating a standard military base. The Aquitarians would have detected him in an instant. Their cities were vigilant, woven with surveillance that only someone born of Aquitar or its colonies could slip through unnoticed.
But still... Red couldn't shake the certainty that she would have known if Blue was lying. She read him better than anyone, better than the brass who judged from their high perches. His voice carried a sincerity she recognized instantly, an unguarded honesty that felt too raw to fake. Even after all these years, Blue remained an open book to her. No, he wasn't lying. If anything, he seemed as lost and confused as the rest of them. Yet doubt crept in, relentless and insidious. How had everything unraveled so completely?
Her thoughts drifted into the past, trailing back to the bond between Blue and Nova, a connection that had always fascinated—and frightened—her. Unlike the other Rangers, who saw their AIs as distinct partners providing strategy and support, Blue and Nova shared something far deeper. Their connection was instinctual, almost primal, as though they were extensions of each other rather than two separate beings. Where most Rangers needed to pause, to think and direct their AIs, Blue never had to. Nova responded to him like a reflex, a seamless extension of his thoughts and actions, as natural as breathing.
This unity often gave them an edge in battle, their synchronicity pushing the boundaries of what a Ranger-AI bond could achieve. But that extraordinary closeness came with a price. It made them more vulnerable, more dependent on each other in ways no one had fully understood—until it was almost too late.
Red struggled to pinpoint the exact moment that connection became apparent. Was it during the second clash with Blood Plague? Or the third? The battles had blurred together over time, a relentless storm of violence and desperation. But she vividly remembered that one fateful fight. The image was burned into her memory: the crimson sheen of Blood Plague's armor reflecting the sickly battlefield light, his movements almost too fast, too strong. The sound still haunted her—the sickening crack as Blue hit the ground, his armor shattered, his vital signs plunging into the red.
Her heart had pounded in her chest, each beat thundering in her ears and blending with the chaos around her. The acrid scent of ozone had filled her lungs as her pistols fired, sending bursts of searing energy toward Blood Plague. Her movements had become sharper, more deliberate, adrenaline tightening her muscles as she had ducked under a devastating swing from the crimson-armored enemy. Blood Plague's attacks had been relentless, his enhanced armor vibrating with a deep, bone-rattling hum that had made each strike feel like a thunderclap.
"Keep fighting! Hold the line!" she had shouted, her voice rough and fierce, a command that had cut through the fear threatening to consume her. She had trusted the medics to do their job, even as her instincts had screamed to protect Blue herself. Every muscle in her body had felt coiled, ready to spring toward him, but she had forced herself to stay in the fight, her mind split between the enemy in front of her and the flashing vitals on her HUD.
Her hands had tightened around the grips of her pistols, the recoil jolting up her arms with every shot as she had maneuvered to keep Blood Plague's attention away from the rest of the team. Her mind had raced, calculating every move, every possible outcome, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. The weight of responsibility had pressed against her chest, almost suffocating, as she had fought to keep the team coordinated, to keep them alive.
Each time she had glanced at her HUD, the warnings about Blue's critical condition had flashed in bright, accusatory red. Her pulse had spiked again, a surge of fear she couldn't afford to indulge. She had needed to stay focused. One wrong move, one moment of hesitation, and it could have cost them everything. Her legs had burned from constant movement, her senses heightened, feeling every vibration of the battlefield, every reverberation of Blood Plague's relentless assault.
"Pink! On his flank!" she had commanded, twisting to dodge a swipe from Blood Plague's blade, her own body moving in sync with the rhythm of combat. Her voice had been hoarse but firm, laced with the raw desperation she had tried to hide. Pink had moved to obey, her arrows cutting through the air with deadly precision, each one finding a gap in Blood Plague's armor. She perched high on a fractured outcrop, her sniper bow drawn back with a smirk that barely concealed the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
"Right where you want me, Red," Pink had called out, her voice teasing and dripping with dark humor. "I've got a better view from up here. This guy doesn't even look that good up close—definitely not date material." She loosed another arrow, this one tipped with a concussive round that exploded on impact, forcing Blood Plague to stagger. Her laughter rang out, fierce and wild, as her decoys flickered into existence, creating a confusing dance of identical Pink silhouettes darting across the battlefield.
But Blood Plague was far from defeated, and Red knew they needed every ounce of strength to keep him at bay. "Yellow! We need cover—now!" she shouted, her pistols firing rapidly as she created distance between herself and their relentless foe.
Yellow slipped into action, her form blending seamlessly with her surroundings as her Grid Camouflage activated. She moved like a shadow, silent and deadly, her twin daggers glinting with a faint, poisonous sheen. Echo, her AI, whispered strategic updates into her mind, guiding her to the perfect ambush points. "On it, Red," Yellow had replied, her voice calm, the embodiment of controlled lethality. She ghosted around Blood Plague, weaving between debris and shattered terrain, her movements so fluid that even Blood Plague's enhanced senses struggled to pinpoint her.
Without warning, Yellow emerged from the shadows, her daggers striking fast, one aiming for a joint in Blood Plague's armor while the other delivered a dose of paralytic poison. Blood Plague roared in frustration, his movements briefly slowed as the toxins began to take effect. "That should buy us a few seconds," Yellow said coolly, vanishing back into the cover of the battlefield. Her heart beat steadily, unshaken by the chaos, her trust in Echo and her own instincts absolute.
But even with Pink's disruptive fire and Yellow's surgical strikes, Blood Plague's power was overwhelming. His armor sang with a dreadful resonance, each step reverberating through the ground as he prepared to launch another devastating attack. Red's grip on her pistols tightened, her mind racing. They needed more than precision and evasion—they needed raw, unrelenting force.
"Black! Now's the time—Grid Charge!" she yelled, her voice commanding but underpinned with urgency.
Black had been waiting for this, his war hammer, Noisemaker, held at the ready. The massive weapon pulsed with energy, absorbing the kinetic force from Blood Plague's attacks and crackling with raw power. His AI, Bastion, remained calm and steadfast in his mind, grounding Black's natural intensity. "Acknowledged," Bastion had rumbled, his voice a stabilizing presence.
With a fierce grin, Black launched himself forward, Grid Charge amplifying his speed and strength. He collided with Blood Plague, the impact of Noisemaker slamming into their enemy like a meteor strike. The ground beneath them cracked, the sheer force of the blow sending shockwaves rippling outward. "You wanted a fight?" Black growled, his voice deep and almost exhilarated. "Here it is."
Blood Plague staggered, momentarily overwhelmed by the onslaught. But even as he reeled, his armor began to hum louder, absorbing and redirecting the energy around him. Red's heart raced, the cacophony of battle pressing in on her. They were buying time, but at a heavy cost. Blue's vitals still flashed red on her HUD, each pulse a grim reminder that they were running out of time.
They were fighting with everything they had, each member of the team giving their all. Yet the odds remained stacked against them, and Red could only pray that their combined strength would be enough to hold Blood Plague at bay—and to give Blue the chance he desperately needed to survive.
They had managed to bring Blood Plague down, the enemy's crimson armor shattered and lifeless on the battlefield. But there had been no sense of victory, no time to celebrate. As soon as the dust had settled, the team had rushed to the medical wing of Ranger Operations, their relief bitter and short-lived. Blue had been placed on life support, his body battered and broken, but at least he was stable. Helpless, but stable. Or so they had thought.
In truth, the weeks that followed told a different story. Blue never really recovered. His vitals remained fragile, each breath shallow, each flicker of his heart rate an echo of his desperate fight to hold on. The medical staff did everything they could, but his condition was more complex than anyone had imagined.
In the chaos of the battlefield, one of the medics had made what seemed like an innocent, almost reflexive mistake: they had removed his morpher from his wrist, believing it best to secure it. Standard procedure. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't have mattered. Any other Ranger's morpher would have been carefully stored, locked away in a high-security vault until it could be returned. But Blue was different. Nova was different. That connection between them—the one that ran deeper than anyone realized—had made them inseparable in ways no one had fully understood back then.
And when that bond had been severed, it had set off a chain reaction. Blue's body had begun to wither, his strength draining as if a vital piece of him had been ripped away. He grew more frail with each passing day, his body becoming alarmingly emaciated. His skin had taken on a deathly pallor, a sickly shade that made him look as though life itself was slipping away. Machines were required to breathe for him, each mechanical hiss a grim reminder of how close he was to the edge.
Nova, who should have gone into stasis like any other AI, hadn't. Instead, she had reached out into the digital void, frantically searching for the partner she couldn't find. Her desperation had grown unchecked, transforming into a fracturing madness that rippled through the city's networks. Even though she was trapped in this digital limbo, Nova still had network access, able to observe everything yet powerless to act. It must have been a waking nightmare, a torment that pushed her closer to complete collapse.
Her unraveling had triggered a series of catastrophic malfunctions. Automated defense platforms turned on, targeting phantom enemies that didn't exist, wasting valuable resources and spreading panic. Security protocols activated arbitrarily, sealing off entire sectors of the mega cities and plunging them into disarray. Power grids flickered and failed, casting millions into darkness and leaving emergency services crippled. The chaos wasn't random; it was the result of Nova's fragmented consciousness, each fractured piece of her mind lashing out in anguish, unable to cope with the separation.
Normally, an AI like Nova would play a crucial role in a Ranger's survival, deploying nanites into the bloodstream to repair tissue damage, stabilize hormones, and regulate adrenaline to keep the Ranger alive and combat-ready. But the medical team hadn't known this. Their clearance levels were restricted, a result of deliberate intelligence fragmentation to protect classified information. No one outside the highest ranks knew the full extent of how intimately the AIs were tied to their Rangers' physical well-being. Military personnel were barred from interfering in medical procedures to safeguard the Rangers' privacy, a regulation that, in this case, had come with a devastating cost.
As Blue lay there, his body growing more skeletal, his breaths coming in shallow, machine-regulated gasps, Nova's panic only grew. Her anguish twisted through every system she had once stabilized, turning her protective instincts into a destructive force. The very infrastructure that had once kept people safe was now a weapon, driven by an AI's grief.
Red remembered the suffocating fear in Ranger Ops as the reality set in. It was as if they were witnessing a force of nature unraveling before their eyes, a whirlwind of agony they couldn't contain. Nova's fragmentation wasn't just an inconvenience—it was a dire crisis, a collision of technology and emotion that no one had foreseen.
And now, as Red sat there in the present, dread gnawed at her. How long had Blue and Nova been separated this time? How much time did they have left before everything shattered again?