The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the nursing home's weathered facade as Farza and Juan pushed through the crowd of protesters. Farza's Z-Watch pulsed with an urgent warning, but the scene before them seemed oddly ordinary – just angry seniors and tired healthcare workers holding signs.
"Maybe it's just acting up," Farza muttered, tugging his sleeve over the watch. "I don't see any Xenoforms here."
Juan pulled out his tablet, fingers flying across the screen as he accessed the Z-Watch's diagnostic data. "No, the energy readings are definitely abnormal. They're just... different from what we usually see." He frowned at the display. "We should check it out."
As they wormed their way through the crowd, the air grew thick with tension. Elderly residents clutched their signs with trembling hands, their faces etched with worry. At the center of the commotion stood a man who seemed to represent everything Farza fought against in Silverwind City – wealth without compassion, power without responsibility.
Mr. Rogers cut an imposing figure in his tailored suit, his bald head gleaming under the sun. He stood surrounded by a group of distraught seniors, his face a mask of corporate indifference.
"What do you mean we have to find another home?" a frail voice called out. The question seemed to echo through the crowd, carrying years of memories and fear of displacement.
Rogers' voice was clinical, rehearsed. "Nexus Technologies is acquiring this property for a new data center. It's a necessary step forward for Silverwind City's technological infrastructure."
An elderly man – his weathered face red with anger – suddenly lurched forward, hurling his meal toward Rogers. Before the food could connect, a sleek robot materialized, its metallic form intercepting the projectile with inhuman precision.
"The Z-Watch!" Juan hissed, gripping Farza's arm. "It's reacting to him and that robot. But be careful – transforming here could make things worse."
Rogers' eyes narrowed as he glared at the elderly man. With a subtle gesture, he deployed another robot to apprehend the senior. The crowd scattered as the mechanical enforcer advanced, its movements deliberately intimidating.
Just as the robot reached for the old man's wrist, Farza stepped between them. "That's enough!"
"This man attacked me," Rogers said coldly. "He needs to be taught respect."
Farza's voice shook with barely contained anger. "Respect? You're throwing these people out of their home! Where are they supposed to go?"
Rogers straightened his tie, unbothered. "It's simply business, nothing personal. If they wanted security in their golden years, they should have planned better." His smile never reached his eyes. "Worked harder."
The words hit Farza like a physical blow, reminding him of every struggle his own family faced. His hand instinctively moved to his Z-Watch, but Juan's warning echoed in his mind. Sometimes the hardest battles weren't the ones you fought with powers.
"Nexus Corporation aims to evolve humanity," Rogers continued, his voice taking on an almost evangelical tone. "We're creating a safer, more harmonious future. These..." he gestured dismissively at the seniors, "remnants of the past have to make way for progress."
Before Farza could argue further, Rogers' phone buzzed. The man's smile widened as he read the message. "Excellent news. We've received final approval to begin immediate renovation." He pressed a button on his wrist device, and five more robots emerged from waiting vehicles. "Clear the building."
The machines moved with ruthless efficiency, beginning to remove furniture and personal belongings. Elderly residents cried out as family photos were carelessly handled, as memories were treated like garbage to be cleared away.
"Stop!" Farza's voice carried across the courtyard. "These people built this city! They worked in your factories, taught in your schools, saved lives in your hospitals. They deserve better than being thrown away like outdated technology!"
Rogers barely spared him a glance. "Sentiment doesn't generate profit. The decision is final."
Farza took a deep breath and planted himself firmly in front of the advancing robots. His voice was steady, even as his heart hammered in his chest. "Then you'll have to go through me first."
He stood there, not as the Red Ranger with all his powers, but as Farza Khan – a kid from the slums who understood what it meant to fight for your home. Behind him, the elderly residents watched in silence, their hope resting on the shoulders of one young man who dared to stand against the machine of progress.
The robots continued their advance, and Farza knew that the real battle was just beginning.