The late afternoon sun descended beyond the horizon, casting a warm amber glow across the bustling metropolis. The city buzzed with life, the overlapping voices of pedestrians and the hum of vehicles weaving an intricate symphony. Red trailed a few paces behind Emma and Iris, her gaze flicking over the towering buildings that framed the street. The glass facades reflected the fading light, painting the surroundings in shifting hues of gold and crimson, a fleeting beauty that contrasted with the tension simmering just beneath her calm exterior.
Iris, as ever, filled the silence with her voice, her words coming in a steady stream of observations and unsolicited opinions. "Red, have you ever thought about dressing a little brighter? You always look so... official. A splash of color wouldn't hurt, you know."
Red's lips curved into a faint smile, the expression serene and unruffled. "Official works for me," she replied evenly, her tone light, almost conversational. "Though I'll admit, you have a knack for bringing vibrancy to any room." The subtle warmth in her voice masked the trace of sarcasm that only Emma—or perhaps her family—might notice.
Iris beamed, clearly taking the comment as a compliment. "Well, someone has to. Can you imagine if we all went around looking like we were on a mission? It's just so... grim. Emma agrees, don't you, babe?"
Emma glanced over at Red, her cheeks coloring as she avoided direct eye contact. "I think Red looks great," she murmured, her voice quiet but firm.
"Oh, absolutely," Iris added, missing the hesitation in Emma's tone. "But you have to admit, a little sparkle never hurt anyone. Maybe I should take you shopping sometime, Red. You could use an Iris touch."
Red chuckled softly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "I appreciate the offer," she said, her tone steady, diplomatic. "I imagine you have a good eye for that sort of thing."
Iris preened at the comment, her head tilting slightly as though considering Red's words. Emma, however, exchanged a glance with Red, her expression tinged with unease.
"That building up ahead—Ranger Ops, right? Your dad really committed to the whole 'live where you work' thing. It's very... on-brand for him."
Red's gaze flicked toward the familiar structure, her expression calm. "He values readiness," she said, her tone measured. "It's practical."
"Oh, sure," Iris continued with a wry smile, "but I'm just saying, a little separation between work and home might've been healthy, you know? Though I guess it fits the whole 'all in' Kassens aesthetic."
Emma winced slightly, shooting Red a cautious look, but Red simply smiled faintly. "Healthy or not, it worked for him. But I'm sure he'd enjoy hearing your thoughts on work-life balance."
Iris chuckled, clearly missing the undertone in Red's reply. "Maybe I'll bring it up over dinner," she quipped.
Emma quickened her pace slightly, as if eager to escape the brewing tension. Red matched her sister's stride, letting the conversation die as they approached the entrance. When the door swung open, the warmth of home greeted them, the rich, savory aroma of their mother's cooking filling the air. Red exhaled slowly, letting the familiar scent momentarily soothe the unease simmering beneath her exterior.
Their mother appeared in the doorway, her steps steady but slowing when her eyes landed on Red. The towel in her hands stilled, and for a moment, the soldier's mask slipped. Her gaze raked over her eldest daughter, cataloging every detail: the cut of her uniform, the steadiness of her stance, and the faint exhaustion behind her eyes. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she approached, arms opening just enough to pull Red into a firm, deliberate embrace.
"You look good," her mother said, her voice even but edged with restrained emotion. "Healthy. Strong." She pulled back slightly, her hands resting on Red's shoulders as if grounding herself. "Your father told me you died, Magz. For ten years, I've..." She trailed off, her composure tightening as she swallowed the words she wouldn't let herself say.
Red met her gaze, steady and unflinching. "I'm here, Mom," she said softly.
Her mother's jaw tightened, and she gave a brisk nod, slipping back into her practiced discipline. "We'll talk about what happened, later," she said, her tone firm but softer now. "For now, wash up. Dinner's almost ready."
Red moved to the sink, joining her mother at the counter. As she began washing her hands, her mother paused just long enough to squeeze her shoulder, the embrace replaced by her usual brisk authority. "Your father let me know first, you know," she said, her eyes glinting with a mischievous edge. "I banished him to the couch when he told me they were keeping you in interrogation. One more day, and I would've broken you out myself."
Red laughed, her voice suffused with warmth despite her exhaustion. "Thanks, Mom. I believe it."
Her mother pulled back slightly, her expression softening yet retaining a playful edge. "So… it's been ten years. When are you going to settle down? Find a decent partner and give me some grandchildren?"
Aegis's laughter echoed through Red's mental link, laced with affectionate humor. Classic, he teased, the perennial question.
Red rolled her eyes, but her lips curved into a smile. "I don't know, Mom," she replied, leaning casually against the counter. "I need someone with intelligence, ambition, and a true altruistic spirit. Someone capable of weathering whatever storms life throws at us. It's a tall order, especially with the unpredictability of this life." Her thoughts drifted briefly to Blue. Older would be preferable too, she thought, someone with experience—someone who understands.
Before her mother could reply, the front door opened, and her father's familiar voice resonated through the entryway. He greeted his wife with genuine affection before washing his hands and approaching Red, pulling her into a bear hug. In that moment, Red allowed herself to feel like a daughter, not the soldier she so often had to be.
They moved together to the dining table, laden with a veritable feast of German-American cuisine. Platters of bratwurst and sauerkraut were accompanied by bowls of creamy mashed potatoes and rich gravy, while a basket of freshly baked rolls sat at the center. Her mother's signature pork schnitzel, golden and crisp, took pride of place next to a dish of tangy red cabbage.
As they sat, Emma glanced toward Red and smiled, trying to ease the room. "Magz, you should see the spread mom's put together. It's like she knew you were coming home for real this time."
"Of course I knew," their mother interjected briskly, wiping her hands on a towel. "Red has her powers and I have mine; a mother knows when to leave the door unlocked. And after ten years, a feast seemed appropriate."
Iris leaned back in her chair, the faintest edge of amusement tugging at her lips. "Appropriate? It's practically a banquet. Honestly, it's a little surreal being here. Seeing you in person, Red, after all the news feeds and parades—it's... different."
Red met her gaze evenly, her expression calm. "People are often different than their public image," she replied, her tone polite but giving nothing away.
Emma shot a glance at Iris, her movements faltering for a moment. "Iris, maybe—"
But Iris pressed on, her words lightly probing. "No offense," she said, waving a hand, "but you seem almost too polished for a place like this."
Red's lips curved into the faintest of smiles, her tone measured. "People adapt," she said simply, reaching for a roll. "Even Rangers."
Red hesitated as she took her seat, her gaze sweeping the table before settling on her father's empty chair. "Is Chris coming?" she asked, her voice steady but tinged with curiosity. "Should we wait for him? It wouldn't feel right to start without him."
Her mother's hand stilled briefly over the gravy ladle, but it was her father who spoke first, his tone measured but tinged with unmistakable pride. "Chris is overseeing Corinth," he said, meeting Red's gaze. "Earth's newest mega city. He's been appointed to lead the entire project, but the shield grid is his top priority. No residential, industrial, or recreational development will begin until safety and security are guaranteed. Once the grid is online and Ambassador Trey charges the shield battery with the Gold Zeo Crystal, the city will be ready to move forward—and Chris will finally have the time for a proper reunion."
Red's lips parted slightly, her expression shifting into one of genuine surprise. "Chris is in charge of Corinth?" she asked, her tone rising with excitement. Aegis's voice hummed in her mind, a rare note of enthusiasm breaking through his usual composure. If he's overseeing the entire city, Red, that's a monumental position. He's not just building Corinth—he's on track to govern it.
Her heart swelled with pride as she glanced back at her father. "That's incredible," she said, her voice warm and bright. "I mean, it makes sense. Chris has always been good at juggling responsibilities, but this... governing an entire mega city? That's huge."
Her father nodded, the pride in his expression unmistakable. "It is. And the fact that he's leading with safety and security first? That tells me he's learned what matters in life."
Before anyone could comment further, her mother chimed in, her tone casual but thoughtful. "Speaking of mega cities," she said, setting the gravy down carefully, "have you found a place to stay yet, Magz? You know you're always welcome to stay here with your dad and me. There's plenty of room."
Emma's face lit up before Red could respond. "Or you could stay with Iris and me!" she exclaimed excitedly. "We've got more than enough space, and it'd be so fun! Like old times."
Iris tilted her head slightly, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Oh, absolutely," she added smoothly. "We'd be happy to have you. And hey, it's not every day you get to live with a galactic celebrity."
Red raised a brow, her lips quirking faintly at the comment, but before she could respond, Iris continued, her tone turning playful. "Sweetie," she said, directing her words at Emma with a familiar ease, "what did we say about bringing home more strays? From everything you've told me about your sister, she's definitely going to want her own space. Besides," she added with a slight laugh, "I just got those stains out of the couch."
The pride on Red's face froze, her warmth draining as her expression cooled. "Strays?" she echoed, her voice calm but razor-sharp.
Emma's cheeks reddened, and she glanced nervously toward their mother. "Iris is talking about Blue," she explained quickly. "You know… he crashes at our place sometimes."
Iris, oblivious to the tension thickening around her, waved a hand dismissively. "What she means is that she rescues him whenever he tries to drown himself with alcohol. It's not like he drops by for tea and cookies. The guy practically lives on our couch half the time. People like Blue never change."
Before Red could say more, her father's commanding voice cut through the tension. "Well," he said, leaning back in his chair and glancing at Iris, "that stops now." He met Red's gaze, his expression softening. "Magz is back, and she'll whip him into shape."
Iris tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing as she spoke, her tone casual but tinged with a sharp edge. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't get it. You're a general, right? If a soldier is this messed up, why don't you just punish him? Or kick him out of the military?"
The General's gaze darkened, his jaw tightening. For a moment, the air at the table grew heavier. Red stiffened slightly in her chair, her eyes flicking toward her father, whose displeasure was written clearly across his face. He inhaled slowly, steadying himself before replying.
"Unfortunately, the Elvanurus-Alliance War proved something to us on multiple occasions," he began, his tone measured but carrying a hint of steel. "Rangers are necessary for combating alien technology. We have fleets, shielded cities, and I have no doubt we'd win a war of attrition. But the ability to strike back—to hit priority targets against magical foes or whatever technologies they're using that we still don't fully understand—is limited without the advanced capabilities reverse-engineered from the Grid."
He leaned forward slightly, his expression heavy with the weight of his words. "And then there's Blue. He has a sophisticated AI companion—Nova—that prioritizes him above all else. Combatting someone with that level of technology, that level of complexity, and Blue's… particular intensity? It's not possible. Not for me. Not for any of us."
He let the words hang in the air before his gaze shifted toward Red. "Red, however, is recognized by Blue as the superior Ranger. For all his faults, he sees her as a true leader. He respects her. He wants her approval. And if Nova ever gets out of line..." He paused, his voice softening. "Aegis can stonewall her."
Red held his gaze, but her thoughts churned uneasily. He's projecting this on Blue, she thought, her mind flashing to the jungle fight, the way Blue had methodically infiltrated every interrogation room, and the unnervingly precise scores he'd posted in the simulator. Based on what I've seen, I'm not sure that's true anymore.
She masked her unease behind a calm expression, giving her father a small nod of acknowledgment. Whatever doubts she had, this wasn't the moment to voice them—not yet.
Red's anger flickered, giving way to concern for Blue. Her brow furrowed, the edge softening from her voice. "Speaking of Blue, Dad… where is he?" she asked, her tone steady but carrying unmistakable weight.
The General's expression darkened, hesitation momentarily crossing his features. "He caused quite a stir during interrogation," he admitted, his voice laden with meaning. Each word was chosen carefully, heavy with gravity. "Multiple interrogators attempted a direct neural connection through his data port. It should have been straightforward," he said, his gaze flicking briefly toward Iris.
"They were curators—professionals trained to navigate neural pathways, pinpoint memories, and extract detailed information. It's the same kind of work you do, Iris. Even with someone as complex as Blue, they should've been able to manage."
Iris blinked, her brow furrowing slightly at the mention of her profession, though she said nothing. Red frowned, unease settling in her gut like a stone. "And?" she pressed, her tone sharper now.
The General sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his discomfort evident. "All three interrogators experienced severe panic attacks. A lot of screaming."
"It's not unheard of," the General continued, his tone measured, "but it has only been known to happen when someone connects with a mind fractured in… complicated ways. The doctors believe his psyche is a labyrinth of unresolved trauma, and attempting to navigate it causes a cascade of symptoms."
He paused, his expression hardening as though reliving the reports. "One of the interrogators started vomiting uncontrollably—apparently triggered by the sensory overload of whatever Blue's mind threw back at them. Another described vivid, intrusive delusions so severe they required sedation. And the third… they're still under observation after a full-blown manic episode."
Red's jaw tightened as she processed his words, her thoughts racing. "They shouldn't have even tried," she said quietly, her voice taut. "There's no way to know how the brain changes when connected to an A.I. - perhaps, there were lingering safeguards from Nova?"
Exactly, Aegis's voice resonated in her mind, calm but tinged with an unmistakable edge. Had they attempted this with you, I would have responded to the invasion with extreme prejudice. The mental assault I'd unleash would have left them comatose in the best of circumstances.
Red let out a short laugh, unable to suppress the image. "Pink would've called surviving something like that rolling lucky 7's," she murmured under her breath, earning a faint pulse of agreement from Aegis.
The General's brow furrowed at her reaction but continued, his tone softening slightly. "Without Nova online, the tribunal saw an opportunity. They needed answers, Magz. They made a calculated risk—and they weren't prepared for the consequences."
Red's stomach twisted as she thought about Blue's condition. She tilted her head slightly, her voice quiet through the mental link. Aegis, is this because he's been separated from Nova and the morpher? Last time they were apart, he got sick. His body started deteriorating while he was unconscious.
Aegis's voice came back, measured and thoughtful. It's possible the separation is contributing to his instability, but these symptoms are entirely different. The last time, his body responded predictably to the severed connection: fever, systemic shutdown, physical deterioration. That happened over weeks while he was already incapacitated.
And this? Red pressed, the tension in her chest rising.
This is something else entirely, Aegis replied firmly. There's no telling what happened to affect his brain chemistry over the last ten years. Trauma, prolonged isolation, alien exposure—any of it could have compounded into this. But the speed and severity of these symptoms suggest something deeper. His body hasn't had time to deteriorate from separation—it's only been a few days since you've been released from interrogation yourself.
"Great," Iris interjected, her voice laced with sarcasm. "So not only is he a drunk, but now he's got a split personality or something? People like him are more trouble than they're worth. Wonderful."
Red's grip on her fork tightened, her knuckles blanching as she fought to keep her emotions in check. "People like him?" she asked evenly, her voice low but cutting. "Explain that to me, Iris."
Iris blinked at the question, clearly caught off guard. "I just mean... he's a mess, Red. An unpredictable, chaotic mess. How are you supposed to trust someone like that?"
Before Red could respond, Iris turned to Emma, gesturing dramatically. "And you were letting him sleep on our couch. Honestly, Em, what were you thinking?"
Emma's cheeks flushed, her voice trembling between defensiveness and guilt. "I was trying to help," she said quietly. "He needed somewhere safe… somewhere familiar."
Red's gaze softened as she turned to her sister, her voice calm but resonant. "That's the Kassens spirit," she said firmly. "Front and center. You saw someone in need, and you acted."
Emma's eyes widened, a look of relief softening her features. She sat a little straighter, her lips curving into a small smile as the tension melted away.
The moment hung in the air for a beat before Iris let out a derisive snort. "Yeah, real heroic," she said bitterly. "Next time we're under attack, maybe we should roll out the welcome mat, offer them a spot on the couch, and throw in an old rug for good measure. Problem solved. Saving people who can't save themselves never ends well."
"And how would you suggest fixing someone like Blue?" Red asked, her tone steady, though her gaze sharpened with subtle intensity.
Iris brightened, clearly eager to present her solution. "Curation," she replied confidently, leaning forward. "You go into their memories, cut out the trauma—the parts that hold them back. It's efficient.
"Quick, clean, efficient," Red noted, her voice adopting a measured tone.
"Exactly!" Iris exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She sat up straighter, leaning forward as though they were sharing a groundbreaking revelation. "It's revolutionary, Red! Imagine skipping all those years of therapy, sidestepping all the pain. You could just go in, remove the trauma, and leave them better than ever! No struggle, no setbacks—just progress."
Red's smile widened, her tone still light, almost curious. "And why stop at trauma? Had an argument with your partner? Rewrite it. Get rid of the conflict. Want a politician to cooperate? Smooth out their views. Someone a bit too aggressive? Make them compliant."
Iris clapped her hands together, practically bouncing in her chair. "Exactly, yes! You're really getting it, Red!" she said, her tone brimming with energy. "Think of how many lives we could improve! No more conflict, no more wasted potential. It's brilliant—this technology could change the world."
Emma shifted uncomfortably, her face paling as she glanced at Red. Their mother's hands stilled on her napkin, her expression growing tighter as she sat in tense silence.
Red's voice sharpened slightly, the edge faint but unmistakable. "Think of the power," she mused, her words precise, "to reshape someone. To decide what they are—and what they're not."
"Yes, yes!" Iris nodded enthusiastically, completely missing the chill creeping into Red's tone. "It's not just an idea—it's inevitable, Red! With the right leadership, curation technology will redefine what it means to be human. We could finally move past all the messiness holding us back."
Red leaned back in her chair, her eyes fixed on Iris, her expression unreadable. "You're right," she said softly, her tone laced with a quiet finality. "It would change everything."
Emma shifted again, her discomfort now evident in her every movement. "Iris, I think—" she started, her voice hesitant, but Iris cut her off, waving dismissively.
"Oh, come on, Em," Iris said with a laugh, her excitement undimmed. She turned back to Red, her smile wide. "This is progress! You wouldn't have to waste time or resources trying to help someone like Blue the hard way. You could go in, clean up the mess, and leave them better than ever! No years of suffering, no endless backslides—just results."
Red's expression remained unreadable, her fingers brushing once against the edge of the table, but Emma stilled, sensing the weight of the moment. "And what happens when 'better than ever' is decided by someone else?" Red asked calmly, her voice carrying a quiet precision. "Who gets to determine what parts of a person stay and which ones go?"
Iris beamed, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension. "That's the beauty of it! The data would guide the process—it's objective. No guesswork, no bias. Just logic and outcomes. Imagine what we could achieve if we stopped letting people's flaws hold them back."
The room grew heavier, though Iris didn't notice. Red's mother had stilled entirely, her napkin clenched tightly in her hands. The General's jaw tightened, but he remained silent, his eyes locked on Iris like a soldier assessing a threat.
Iris smiled, but Red wasn't finished. Her voice turned colder, steely. "It's godlike, isn't it? The power to decide who people are. To strip away what you don't like, replacing it with something preferable."
"No," Iris snapped, her confidence faltering, her defensiveness rising. "It's not godlike. God abandoned us during Countdown. He let those people die. Faith is just an excuse for weakness. This—this is human ingenuity. It's our chance to create a better future."
The words seemed to reverberate, striking a deep chord within the Kassens family. Red's mother stilled, her hands clenching around her napkin, while the General's expression hardened, tension replacing his calm demeanor. Emma looked stricken, her eyes wide with disbelief.
Red's gaze sharpened, her tone icy as she spoke, slicing through the silence. "Just for humans?" she asked pointedly. "What about the Alliance? The people who fought with us, who died with us during Countdown? Shouldn't they be included in that future?"
Iris didn't hesitate, her tone unwavering despite the tension. "Earth has sacrificed more than anyone else. We've given our soldiers, our resources, our innovation—all for the Alliance. Alliances are only as strong as what they contribute. We've earned the right to prioritize ourselves. If they want access, they should come here and contribute."
The silence that followed was profound, thick with tension. Red's mother set her napkin down deliberately, her expression conflicted. The General clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white. Emma stared at Iris, her shock evident.
Red leaned forward slightly, her voice calm yet resonant. "So they should beg, should they? People who've lost just as much as we have?"
Iris met her gaze, unyielding. "It's not begging," she retorted. "It's contributing. If they want the benefits, they should invest in what we're building. Earth has carried the Alliance for too long without reprieve. It's time we prioritize our own."
Red rested her hand lightly on the table, her outward demeanor at odds with the anger simmering within. Her fingers trembled slightly, betraying her struggle to maintain composure. Before she could respond, Aegis's voice hummed in her mind, steady and even. Red, Pink's attempting to reach you via Ranger-only channels.
Red clenched her jaw subtly, keeping her expression neutral. Let her know I'll call her back shortly, she replied silently to Aegis. She's likely stirred things up at CoralVault.
Aegis pulsed with quiet amusement. Acknowledged.
Iris, oblivious to the thickening tension around her, leaned back in her chair, arms crossed as if she'd won the debate. "It's not selfish to put Earth first," she said, her tone softening slightly, as though explaining a simple truth. "We've paid our dues. The Alliance owes us more than we owe them."
Emma looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting together as though she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. Their mother finally spoke, her voice calm but firm, though her hands still gripped the edge of the table. "Do you hear yourself, Iris? You're talking about abandoning people who helped us rebuild with no thought to themselves. People who died so you could sit here and talk about sacrifice as if it only belongs to Earth."
The General exhaled sharply, leaning forward, his hands clasped on the table. His voice, low and deliberate, carried the weight of command. "Practicality doesn't erase debt, Iris. Nor does it erase loyalty. The Alliance stood with us when we were on the brink. Without their support, we wouldn't even have an Earth to prioritize."
"But—" Iris started, but the General silenced her with a single raised hand, his gaze unflinching.
Red's expression remained composed. "You're right about one thing," she replied, her voice even. "Earth has sacrificed a great deal."
Aegis's voice returned, a slight urgency underlying his usual calm tone. Red, Pink is attempting to reach you again. She says it's important.
Before Red could continue... her mother interjected, her tone adopting a deliberately brighter, almost cheerful note, as though to cut through the tension. "Magz, did Emma tell you we have your bike at her place?
Your dad's been keeping it maintained all these years. He refused to let it go—said it was too important. He even made sure it's still in running condition, changing the oil and keeping it polished. Maybe some part of him knew you'd need it back someday."
Red's eyes widened, and for a moment, the weight of the room lifted. Genuine excitement softened her features. "My bike? I just assumed it got sold or recycled. I can't believe you still have it! I love that bike—"
Her mother smiled warmly, nodding. "It's been waiting for you," she said. "Your dad made it his personal project. Every year, like clockwork, he'd give it a tune-up and take it for a spin. Said it was part of keeping the family ready for the future."
Iris rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with exasperation. "Oh yes, that thing. It takes up so much space in the garage, and it's dangerous too. Honestly, I'd do anything to get rid of it, but Emma wouldn't let me. She seems to think it's sentimental or something. But really, it's just a hazard sitting there, taking up all that space. It's not like anyone's been using it."
Red's mother's smile vanished, replaced by a sharp frown. Her voice cut through the air, firm and edged with frustration. "Iris, please be more polite. This isn't the time for your commentary, especially when it's something important to Magz."
But Red held up a hand, her eyes narrowing, her smile twisting into something cold and calculated. "No, no, no, Mom," she said, her voice deceptively calm but laced with steel. "I think she's on to something. Why don't we take stock with Iris? It's been a while since we've done that as a family, hasn't it? I want to make sure I understand her and where she's coming from."
Iris blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but then she straightened in her chair, her expression brightening. She seemed genuinely pleased that Red was taking an interest, even if there was an underlying tension. "Sure," she said, her voice warm and curious. "What do you want to know?"
Red's gaze hardened, her eyes glinting as she leaned forward slightly. "So," she began, her tone steady but carrying an undeniable edge, "you're a memory curator. You help people recover memories, package them, and pass them on to loved ones, right? The kind of work that lets people experience those memories together. That must be a deeply intimate experience—enough to trigger emotional bonds, I'd imagine."
Iris's smile widened, as if she felt she was being praised. "Yes, exactly," she said, nodding enthusiastically. "It's incredibly rewarding work."
Red tilted her head, her smile sharpening into something predatory. "Rewarding, sure. But tell me—when you saw that memory of Emma, me, and our mom, did it make your bond with her feel real? Or was it just borrowed intimacy? Do you even know the difference?"
Iris's smile faltered, the question landing like a blow she hadn't anticipated. "Of course it's real," she said defensively, though her voice wavered.
Red leaned back slightly, her gaze calculating. "I noticed something at the cottage," she began, her voice deceptively calm. "Emma introduced you as her girlfriend. Not her wife. But from the pictures around the house, you've been together for a while. A long while."
Iris blinked, caught off guard, and her lips parted as though to respond, but Red didn't stop.
"You talk over her," Red continued, her voice growing sharper, though her tone remained controlled. "You cut her off. And Emma's not shy about getting what she wants. She has ambition. She takes action. Do you think she hasn't noticed? Do you think maybe she knows the truth—that you're not Kassens material?"
The words landed like a hammer. Iris stiffened, her composure beginning to crumble. "That's not—Emma loves me," she said defensively, though her voice wavered.
Red's smile twisted into something colder. "Does she? Or did you ask her? Maybe she turned you down. Maybe that's why you're still her girlfriend and not her wife. Maybe that's why you moved into her house—because calling yourself her girlfriend is easier than hearing the word 'no.' Tell me, Iris, is that what happened?"
Iris flushed deeply, her breath catching as she struggled to form a coherent reply. "No—Emma and I—" she started, but her words faltered under Red's unrelenting gaze.
"And that house," Red pressed, her tone like a blade. "A house like that isn't something you just buy. It's earned—through merit, through service, through contribution. That's how Emma got it. So tell me, Iris, what have you done to earn your place there?"
Iris shifted in her seat, her discomfort plain. Her hands gripped the edge of the table as though for stability. "I—I contribute," she stammered, her voice weak.
Red's eyes didn't soften. If anything, they sharpened, pinning Iris in place. "By curating memories? By stepping into someone else's most vulnerable moments and calling it a connection? Is that what contribution looks like to you?"
The silence in the room was deafening, the tension so thick it felt as though the air itself might shatter. Emma sat frozen, her face pale and stricken. Their mother's lips pressed into a firm line, her hands clenched tightly on her napkin. The General remained still, his gaze fixed on Iris with a quiet, almost predatory patience.
Red's voice cut through the silence, low but carrying an unrelenting edge. "You've been with Emma for years, haven't you? Years to prove yourself, to earn the respect of this family, and yet here we are. You walk into a house built on sacrifice, wear the title of girlfriend like a shield, and think that's enough? Tell me, Iris, what have you done to stand beside her as an equal?"
Iris's mouth opened, but no words came out. She floundered, her composure slipping further as she tried to piece together a response. "I—I support her," she stammered finally, her voice barely audible. "I love her. Isn't that enough?"
Red's smile twisted again, sharp and unforgiving. "Support her?" she echoed, her tone biting. "Is that what you call it? Mocking her family? Undermining her values? Cutting her off every time she tries to speak? Love isn't a shield, Iris. It's a responsibility. And from where I'm sitting, you're not carrying your weight."
The room seemed to grow heavier with every word. Emma's hands clenched tightly in her lap, her knuckles white. Their mother's frown deepened, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The General remained motionless, his expression unreadable, though his gaze remained fixed on Iris.
Red leaned back in her chair, her gaze cold and unrelenting. "This family values sacrifice, Iris. Service. Loyalty. Those aren't things you claim. They're things you prove. And right now, I see someone who's taken a lot and given very little in return."
Iris's eyes widened, a blush creeping up her neck. "I didn't real—"
Red's eyes didn't waver from Iris, her expression as cold as her tone. "You didn't realize?" she repeated, the words dripping with disdain. "What exactly didn't you realize, Iris? That mocking someone's pain—someone who gave everything for this planet—might be cruel? Or that sitting in judgment from your safe, cushioned life might make you look small?"
Iris tried to recover, straightening in her chair and forcing her voice to steady. "I wasn't mocking him," she said defensively. "I was just saying that—"
Red cut her off again, leaning forward slightly, her movements deliberate and precise. "Just saying what? That someone like Blue is an inconvenience? That the struggles he faces—struggles he earned in battles you can't begin to understand—are nothing more than a burden to you? Enlighten me, Iris. What's your point?"
Iris faltered, her hands gripping the edge of the table as though it might ground her. "I didn't mean it like that," she murmured, her voice barely audible.
Red's smile twisted into something razor-sharp. "Then how did you mean it? Because from where I'm sitting, it sounds like you think his sacrifices are worth less than your couch cushions."
The room felt like a powder keg, one spark away from exploding. The air was thick, heavy with the emotions that had been ignited—anger, frustration, fear—all mixed into a volatile concoction. The silence stretched on, becoming almost unbearable.
The table rattled as the General slammed his fist down, his voice a thunderous command. "Enough, Margaret Kassens! We do not treat our guests this way in this house." His words reverberated through the room, the finality in his tone undeniable. Even the walls seemed to tremble in response, the echo lingering.
Aegis's voice entered her mind once again, this time with a sense of urgency. Red, Pink is attempting to reach you again. She says it's critical. There was a subtle pulse of concern underlying Aegis's usually composed tone, a sign that even he recognized the gravity of the situation.
In frustration, Red took a deep breath, her gaze still hard. Her voice was terse as she responded, her mind focusing on the urgency conveyed by Aegis. Put her through. The tension in the room seemed almost trivial compared to what might be happening elsewhere.
In frustration, Red took a deep breath, her gaze still hard. Her voice was terse as she responded, her mind focusing on the urgency conveyed by Aegis. Put her through. The tension in the room seemed almost trivial compared to what might be happening elsewhere.
The Ranger-only channel crackled in her ear, and the voice that came through was barely recognizable. Pink—chaotic, confident, always quick with a joke—sounded shattered, her words tumbling out in broken fragments.
"R-Red…" Pink gasped, her voice halting and uneven. "I… I don't know what to do—he's—" A choking sob cut her off, her breathing jagged and labored. "H-he's dying, Red. Blue's dying."
Red froze, the world around her blurring as the words sank in. Blue? Dying? That couldn't be right. Her chest tightened, but she forced herself to stay calm, her voice sharper now. "Pink, slow down. Start from the beginning. What's happening?"
"I—I got him out," Pink stammered, each word clipped and raw. "The puppy vault—they locked him there! But he's not breathing! Alpha's trying, but—but Nova's not online yet! Red, I don't—I don't know what to do!"
"I—I got him out," Pink stammered, each word clipped and raw. "The puppy vault—they locked him there! But he's not breathing! Alpha's trying, but—but Nova's not online yet! Red, I don't—I don't know what to do!"
Red froze, her fingers digging into the edge of the table. Her breath hitched as the implications sank in. The puppy vault. The anti-Ranger isolation unit, designed to sever rogue Rangers completely from their support systems. No morphers. No team connections. No AI assistance. It was designed to neutralize even the most dangerous operators—and now it had been used on Blue.
She couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Pink's voice pulled her back like a slap.
"H-he's not breathing, Red! He's so cold, and he's not waking up!" Pink's words tumbled out in broken, desperate fragments. "Alpha's trying, but it's not enough! It's not enough! I don't know what to do!"
"Pink," Red barked, her voice sharper than she intended. "Slow down. Focus. Alpha's with you, right?"
"Yes!" Pink cried, her breaths heaving and uneven. "But Nova's not back online! He—he's not moving, Red, and I—oh God, I don't know—I can't lose him, Red! I can't—"
"Pink!" Red snapped, cutting through the spiral of panic. Her voice hardened, cold and precise. "Tell Alpha to reactivate Nova now. She won't fully stabilize him, but she'll buy us time. Do it. Right now."
"But—what if—what if she's not ready?" Pink stammered, her words breaking into gasps. "What if it doesn't work? Red, he's so cold—he's not—"
"Pink, listen to me!" Red interrupted, her tone rising, laced with steel. "Lock down the Command Center. No one in or out without a morpher. Then keep working with Alpha. You focus on stabilizing him, nothing else. Do you hear me?"
There was a pause, trembling breaths filling the silence. "Y-yeah," Pink finally choked out. "I—I'll lock it down. I'll tell Alpha. But Red—" Her voice broke completely. "Please. Please hurry. I don't think I can do this."
"I'm on my way," Red said, rising to her feet with a scrape of her chair that made the room flinch. She didn't pause as her family turned toward her, alarmed.
"Margaret?" her mother called, her voice tight with concern. "What's going on?"
Red didn't turn back. Her hand gripped her morpher like a lifeline. "Sorry, Mom. This can't wait."
The distant wail of an alarm reached her ears, low and rhythmic, from the direction of Ranger Ops. Inside the house, her father's emergency phone began to ring, its shrill tone slicing through the night. The weight of it pressed on her chest—Pink's terror, Blue's condition, the alarms. She felt it all clawing at her, but she shoved it down.
Her grip on the morpher tightened as she inhaled sharply. "Aegis," she said, her voice steady and controlled despite the chaos in her chest. "Teleport me to the Command Center. Now."
There was no hesitation. In a flash of light, she disappeared, leaving behind the sound of alarms and her father's ringing phone.