Fractured Navy
Fandom: Power Rangers Ninja Storm
Title: Fractured Navy
Author: Illyria13 (andariel18)
Words: 7274
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Spoilers: Sequel to Razing Crimson, so spoilers for that fic.
Summary: Blake had seen a lot of things in his life. But nothing could have prepared him for this. And Blake didn't know what to do.
Fractured Navy
By Illyria13
Authors Note: This is a SEQUEL to another one-shot of mine titled “Razing Crimson”. I HIGHLY suggest you read that one first, otherwise you might not understand some things in this story.
This story, and Razing Crimson, is an AU from the PRNS episode “Return of Thunder, Part III.”
Originally I wasn’t planning on anything following “Razing Crimson” but then I got an amazing review that asked for more. So, I wrote “Fractured Navy”.
Thank you to Black into Blue, for giving me such a good review that I wrote another fic! I hope that you like this story!!
Summary: Blake had seen a lot of things in his life. But nothing could have prepared him for this. And Blake didn’t know what to do.
//////////
Time is ever-changing. It shifts between a moment and runs itself down through cycles: birth and death, creation and destruction, growth and decay, rise and fall.
Crimson stood on the edge of the rooftop, looking down on the battle below, waiting for the right moment to strike. When the enemy was at its’ strongest, they could be better taken by surprise.
Navy knelt, gaze perusing the enemy, mentally recording numbers and formations. Ever the strategist, he looked for the weaknesses in their group, the flaws in their attacks. Openings gave Thunder and Lightning an advantage, and they would take whatever helped.
The commander of Lightning shifted his weight fully onto his feet, body stiffening in tense alertness, his bearing altered by changes in the scene below.
The owner of Thunder straightened slightly at his perch, back going ramrod straight in response to the movement of Crimson, taking his cues from the other.
With a glance at each other, the Thunders nodded in silent communication.
As one, they spun into the oncoming horde, attacking with the ferocity that they had become known for. The two brothers were shade and shadow, gray and hollow weapons sharpened for destruction. They had learned each others’ moves, worked in unison and coordinated attacks, and so they melted together like individual flames that light an entire fire. None could stand against them and win, and combined with their fellow warriors, these Ninjas were a formidable force.
“What took you guys so long?” Yellow, the Ninja of Earth, yelled to the brothers, laughter strung throughout every inch of his body.
“Sorry, got caught in traffic. You’d think the appearance of yet another monster would make the people in this city get out of the way faster, but no. Nothing stands between them and their Starbucks.” The gruffness of his tone was belied by the rapid staccato of his blaster, as Crimson executed a smooth roll into the path of oncoming fire, protecting the unsuspecting Blue Water Ninja.
The banter was natural; the friendship and trust of seasoned warriors flowed between the group and the ease of knowing everyone there had your back was apparent.
One extremely high-powered blast by the attacking monster took them all by surprise, the percussive force knocking them off of their feet. Their balance lost, the group was forced in different directions, Wind to one side and Thunder to the other. They tumbled to the rocky ground, groaning as precious air was ripped from their lungs. Heads ringing and senses scrambled, they were unaware of the second blast heading their way.
A solitary figure protected them, weapon absorbing the attack with ease, his stance readied for any follow-up by his enemy.
The appearance of a Sixth, a Samurai wielding Star and Saber, was a welcome surprise to the downed Rangers.
Decked in an emerald colored suit lined with black and shielded with gold armor, the threatening ranger maintained his position, protecting the others as they slowly regained their footing. Keeping a wary eye on the monster, he watched for any signs that it would attack again, and blurred into a flurry of motion as it followed through with his expectations.
He was joined by the other five, their combined attacks driving the monster back, forcing it on the defensive. With a final howl of despair, it exploded in a brilliant flash of color and light, as the Rangers’ final attacks wiped it out.
Standing side by side in a loosely-knit cluster, the warriors made a captivating sight.
Two shades of the same color, Red and Crimson, stood at the front. Next came the similar colors of Blue and Navy, followed by the opposites of Yellow and Green.
A group of six, the united powers of Wind, Thunder and Samurai creating a team that stood against any threat to the Earth and each other.
Their battle fought and finished, they headed back towards their command post.
Tori walked between Shane and Dustin, the calming Waters to the fun-loving Earth and the tumultuous Air, laughing as the two tried to out do the other with stories of their battle exploits. Cam meandered sedately behind the trio, rolling his eyes at the immaturity of the supposed saviors of the world and muttering to himself about the many repairs and alterations that waited for him back at the headquarters.
The Thunder brothers followed the group, both smiling and wondering how they had been so lucky to have been extended an invitation to join the others. For two that had been far more comfortable on their own, they had adapted to being part of the team and both felt deep down that they had never been better off than at this moment.
Hunter threw an arm around his younger brothers’ shoulders, laughing as Blake blushed and ducked away, complaining about his manliness and utter distaste for signs of affection that were beneath him. Yet he secretly reveled in these moments, where Hunter was less guarded and far more open, acting more like the teenager he was. It gave him hope, for both their survival and their happiness, and for the safety of all else, that they would succeed.
In these moments, one could see glimpses of the future, of the security formed by the creation of this team. Through the Rangers’ bonds, their victory was assured.
It was a future of triumph, of winning and living; of the sweet taste of defeating their enemy, rescuing their fellow Ninja comrades, and of rebuilding their sacred Academies.
It was a future of renewal.
A future that would never come to pass.
Time is shaped by the objects it encompasses. One decision lasts a second, one second makes a lifetime, and one lifetime dies alone.
A single battle had done what countless others before hadn’t.
The relationship between the Rangers was rocky at best. From their first meeting, both Wind and Thunder felt only mistrust, and it was only a common duty that had linked them. By turning the two Thunders against the others for the second time, those that had orchestrated these events correctly assumed that the Rangers’ demise was close at hand.
But the way that the Rangers ended was not the way they had intended.
Wind had managed to save one brother, not just by their actions, but through those of his protector, but they had not succeeded with the other. Crimson had sacrificed his control and his sanity for Navy, but the resulting sequence of events had destroyed everything they ever had.
Though Thunder had restored Lightning, the weight of his actions had driven his guardian over the edge. Unable to deal, unable to see anything but his guilt, the elder of the brothers had fled, fading into the trees and shadows. The only sound left in the wake of his departure was the river, its steady stream flowing over and through and around itself.
A river of blood.
A river of tears.
A river of silence, of hollow destruction.
No one would know where he had gone, or what had happened to him.
Some say he faded, becoming a phantom of the forest, a silent watcher that wept in sorrow.
Others said he died, either by his hand or by the hands of his enemies, a last-ditch rush of destruction.
Still more claimed that he became a haunting watcher of battles, a gargoyle that looks but can never interfere.
For the younger brother, however, he knew only one thing.
Hunter was gone. He was out there somewhere, in the trees and the rain. Somewhere near where the stars die and old men cry; somewhere in this world or the next. And his little brother was going to find him.
But it was not to be.
For Hunter had left, taking all memory of him and allowed himself to fade from reality.
Absent from life, absent from existence, absent from mind.
In the act of splitting their Fates, Hunter had undone their entwined paths. He had created a rift in the balance of scales, and left all of it open to ruin and despair.
And with his disappearance, Crimson had rewritten Time itself, in such a way that none could foresee the consequences.
A single battle had done what countless others before hadn’t.
Time is written by the destinies of people’s souls. The path of one intersects with the paths of others, and these intersections create decision.
Blazing midnight splattered with precious burgundy, a stain of life and the path to death.
Above, a storm of thunder rumbled, mourning the loss of electricity. Heat filtered throughout the air, static striking on the flesh of the living and skating across the surface of the dead.
Bodies littered the field, puppets lying about with their marionette strings cut. Unmoving corpses of allies and enemies, of soldiers with no names and foes with no allegiance.
Ahead, the battle was winding down, the numbers of those alive depleting as quickly as the number of the dead rose. It is a balance of scales, equal and opposite. War was not about winning. It was about which side had the most pawns left on the chessboard and the greater amount of royalty when the game ended.
Black Queen.
Black Knight.
White King.
Checkmate.
He didn’t know why he was here. When the Wind Rangers had contacted him, he’d refused. It wasn’t his fight anymore. The world wasn’t his responsibility. But Shane had come to him, begging for his help, and he’d agreed. Perhaps some long dead sense of duty and honor had been resurrected. Perhaps his faith had been restored.
Blake snorted to himself.
The color of red would always be his weakness.
Though Shane’s suit was Red, it was bright compared to Crimson. But the concept was the same. One flash of the Red suit and all he could see was Hunter. So when Shane had appeared, Hunter had as well, if only in his mind, and it was enough to change his decision. And Blake knew that he’d walk through hell if Hunter asked.
So here he was, on a desolate ground in some ruined city that he hadn’t the inclination to learn the name of, fighting in a war he had sworn to abandon.
Looking around, he saw no one else to fight and so he walked a narrow path through the slain bodies surrounding him, glancing at some to ensure they were dead, and tallying the count.
He paused as a glimmer of Blue caught his eye, the small flash reflecting back onto his own Navy suit. Picking his way towards it, he stopped as he saw the face connected to the Blue.
It was Tori.
The Water Ninja lay, ironically, in a small puddle of water, remnants of her last attack that had collected on top of the earth. Small droplets of blood were splattered all over her, the color staining much of the blue lining on the black uniform.
Blake stared impassively down at the body at his feet and then turned, continuing his trek across the battlefield.
Once upon a time, she had meant something to him, enough that he had entertained the notion of something more. But she didn’t hold a candle to how much his brother had meant to him, and when Hunter had left, Blake had put an end to those feelings. They had no longer mattered.
But looking at her body, he had felt nothing.
And he wondered, when had he started feeling complete apathy?
And he answered himself with the image of a blond teen just slightly older than him, and the guilt pooling in those sapphire orbs.
It was yet another loss for the Rangers, the second within the span of a week. Three days ago, Shane had gone, sacrificing himself in a kamikaze attack in his Zord. Dustin, Cam and himself were the only ones left; one from Wind, one from Thunder and one from Samurai. Yellow and Green and Navy. Fitting, he supposed.
The slow whine of a blaster being fired grabbed his attention, and flipping backwards, he swore as the blast barely missed him, connecting with the ground in front of him. Quickly looking up, he frowned as he saw the objects of his thoughts grappling with a monster just a few feet away. Cursing at his inattention, Blake headed their way, barely managing to withhold his groan of annoyance.
Upon joining the fight, however, his senses starting going haywire as he felt himself falling back on defense far too many times. He felt a chill of foreboding race down his spine, and cold sweat began forming on his forehead.
And he knew, with the chilling certainty of one who has seen his end in sight, that this battle was going to make or break the ending of the war.
Yellow crumpled to the ground in a smoking heap; armor the color of sunshine bubbling and darkening in patches.
One down, two to go.
Blake couldn’t tear his eyes away from the growing puddle of blood at his feet, staining the ground. He didn’t hear his name being frantically called. He didn’t feel himself being kicked away, falling to the ground unceremoniously. All he could see was the Crimson pool surrounding him.
A screaming voice that sounded suspiciously like his brother rocked through his head, and he raised his gaze up. An arc of violet light sped towards him, the color a mixture of red and blue.
The concussive force flung his body backwards, his head impacting the rocks and gravel strewn around him.
As he lay there gasping, releasing slow, stuttered breaths, he realized he could feel nothing. Not the blood leaking from his body, or the pain of his many broken bones; not even the shock settling in as his skin turned clammy and cold.
Facing upwards towards the sky, all he could think of was how much he wanted his brother. He wanted Hunter there, holding him and telling him everything would be okay. He wanted to see his brother once more, a chance that was denied him when Lightning had stolen away in the dead of night.
If he focused his eyes enough, he could almost see him standing there, a statue of Crimson and black, wielding a blaster with the force of Lightning.
Navy reached out for Crimson, and the lost child within sobbed as his hand grasped empty air.
Time is all-knowing and perceives all within its domain. The ripples of its’ actions reach across space and touch upon the moments and the cycles.
But what is Time when someone is erased completely from its’ view?
How does Time change when a gathering of decisions is wiped away and the destiny of a soul disappears?
///
Fate.
Vengeance and avenger, Tisiphone veers in the empty expanse of nothingness, waiting for the moment in which she is summoned. For the loss of one always leaves behind another, and the souls of the abandoned cry out for her. And when she hears the screaming of the forsaken, she goes; a hideous specter spitting fire and fury, hate and retribution. She punishes them, the souls that have wronged, and she comforts the one that has beckoned to her. As one who knows pain intimately, her whispered assurances and breathy promises only ignite these damned souls. Her power is ruthless and strips the deserted of all choice and free will. Because they have already made all decision, and their timeline is now complete.
Fortune.
The jealousy of Megaera is formed not by her own soul, but from those who feel it reverberating through themselves. It is gathered from them all and shaped into a wicked sword, a weapon she wields with deadly accuracy. But it is double-edged, cutting the wielder as much as the target, coating both souls deep down to the core. Green-eyed and pretty, the envious channel her and it is through them that she manifests. And when she appears, the fire of her rage is bitter and clouded by ashy fumes. She sears the air with her arrival, driving all in her path to destruction, and shrieks her triumph into the churning sky. She is no sentinel, for she can never be still, but her driven actions are different than the sister of Vengeance. Tricks or Treats, she howls into souls. Lady luck is here to play.
Time.
Alecto, unending anger, scarlet tears dripping as she shrieks at what is to come, watching as the strands between insects unravels by decision. And she knows when her sister is called upon, and she sits, a seething guardian, as Vengeance reels above the battlefield she is drawn to. When her moment comes, she rises in the Summoner, and appears with the other two, the last of the trinity they form. She is the oldest, she is the strongest and she is the one to be feared. For she is unceasing and relentless, and the siren calls of the angered would forever draw her from her tapestry of strings.
The sisters of Fury walk the battlefield, torching all in their path, scorching the earth they tread upon. A solitary figure has called to them, his screams of pain and rage like music to their ears. It has been far too long since their reign, and most had forgotten what they had once been. But not this soul.
He had cried out for them in his agony, summoning Them, and so they had come, ready to smite his suffering, just as they did for another so like him, a Ranger of Red, so many years ago.
Avenging Tisiphone destroys, flame in hand and the blistering heat of Fate.
Jealous Megaera soothes, Sors ventus temerarus. Fortune favors the bold.
Angered Alecto endures, because Time is never ending.
The Furies scream in unison, their voices melding into one, and their Summoner howls with them as everything explodes in whiteness.
///
They are three points of a triangle that trap a circle within their walls, a single ring containing a coin.
Though three have formed the barrier, only two sides exist to the coin itself. Dichotomized. Split. Opposite. Heads and Tails. Black and White. Life and Death. Fifty-fifty odds of getting one or the other. Zero percent of getting them both at the same time.
This is Chance.
Yet without them both, these two sides, there can be no Chance, just as there is none when only one exists.
Navy and Crimson. Thunder and Lightning. Sound and Light. Heat and Energy.
The coin is flipped, heads over tails.
What goes up must come down.
Fifty-fifty odds of getting one side or the other.
Zero percent of getting them both.
The coin lands.
///
Even before the others had told him, with shifting eyes and shuffling feet, he’d known. He didn’t need their half-stuttered excuses and their false promises. He didn’t need their comforting ways of delaying and hindering and hiding. Nothing could prevent the truth; not their words or their concerns or their interfering natures. Their very bodies displayed it, like a cat displays the mice it catches to its master even though it cannot speak of its’ hunt.
Because he had felt the absence of his brother, in both heart and mind. Felt the solitude and screaming loneliness of abandonment reverberating in his soul.
He didn’t acknowledge them, these Rangers with their honor and their goodness. Didn’t see their good will or hear their assurances of returning his brother.
Instead, he turned from them, from the masters of Earth, Air and Water, and left them standing there. Unknowingly, he echoed his brothers’ path from this fortress, treading in his footsteps into the surrounding forest.
Deep down, in a place he couldn’t acknowledge, he had known that this was coming; that this moment would appear. Had felt it with dreaded certainty, with only the date of its arrival kept hidden in shadow.
Seeing was a trait not common among even Ninjas’ and even less amongst the Thunder academy. It was one of falsehood and airs, taint and bleak truths; of ruthless madness, and the resonance of voiceless screams.
But he knew the truth.
It was reality without time, it was Fate without existence, and it was Fortune without breath. It was impossible to conceive its’ entirety, for no one part of it belonged to anyone.
Those whom were gifted with Sight could never be without it, yet Sight was nothing without one to See it. They were two rough pieces of a jagged, splintered whole, and they lived off of each other in order to survive.
He had learned to accept his curse and in time, even learn to control it. He could never choose what he’d See but he could sometimes choose when. It had saved both his life and his brothers’ in battle more than once, like an extra intuition. What did it matter that he sometimes lived lives that weren’t his own, or Saw things that he couldn’t possibly know? Nobody got hurt. He was just fine.
The impacting thud of his fist hitting tree echoed around him.
Okay, maybe he wasn’t fine.
He was angry. No, scratch that, he was furious. At his brother, at life, at his sensei and his parents. They all had abandoned him just when he always needed them the most.
How could Hunter just leave him? He knew how bad Blake could get with the things he could See. Sometimes it took him days to recognize what time he was in. Without Hunter to pull him back, nothing was stopping him from losing it entirely.
He remembered what he had told Hunter once, after a particularly bad vision. Hunter had been upset and mad at himself for being unable to help. Blake had smiled at him and said one thing: These things are not meant for you to see, Hunter. It is my curse and you are not allowed to take it from me. You can only try to lessen the burden.
He couldn’t go to the others; he didn’t want them to know about it and frankly, he didn’t trust them. And he knew how they would look at him and how they would treat him.
Prophet. Seer. Psychic. Oracle.
He wasn’t someone’s eight ball that they could shake when they wanted a quick yes or no answer. He didn’t tell peoples Fortune or read the cards.
He simply did what he needed to keep Hunter and himself alive.
It was ironic, really.
He’d seen almost every possible future. He’d seen Hunter die, others die, even himself die. He’d seen battles and wars, other Rangers beyond them and the outcome of it all. And he’d still been completely blind-sided.
Because he had never seen this.
///
He didn’t care what had been sacrificed for him. He didn’t acknowledge all the pain, the tears, the blood and life that had been given for him.
He was done with it. Done with it all.
He had never asked to be idolized. To be placed first, to be coddled and kept locked away like a secret treasure to be taken out only when one wanted something shiny and new.
He both hated and loved his brother for what he had done.
Because he understood how hard it must have been to walk away and leave him behind. But in saving him, he had abandoned him. And for that crime, Blake could never forgive.
Hunter had broken his promise.
It was the one thing the older brother had always upheld, stood by and ranked above all else. The Crimson ranger knew what it was like to live a life of broken promises and so had thus sworn against ever doing it.
Yet what he had hated so much in others, he had gained in himself.
But what could he do? Hunter was family, in everything but blood and if he condemned him, he’d need to condemn himself.
He stared broodingly into the waters churning in front of him. The waterfall was tranquility and violence wrapped around each other, and the sight was beautiful. Beautiful, but deadly. If someone were to get trapped in its’ stream, they more than likely would end up dead.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
Blake spun around, his eyes widening as they fell upon the figure standing in front of him. It was a child, around 9 years old, with short dark hair and dark eyes. But it wasn’t just any child.
It was him.
Clad in his training uniform of black leather edge with Navy, the child stared upwards, his head tilted to the side in a curious fashion. Blake recognized that look; he’d used it often as a child when he was standing still with his brother. The solemn expression on his younger self’s face, however, was different.
The weight of his gaze was heavy, with knowledge and truth, a look that was far too serious and old for a child of that age.
“You think you’d seen a ghost the way you’re staring at me. But I’m not a ghost. Am I?” The child stepped forward, gaze shifting into something close to mockery. “That would mean I’m dead, which means that you’d be dead. But you’re not. Are you?”
Blake stared dumbfounded at himself, shocked by both the appearance of the child and the fact that it was him, down to the sarcasm and the outfit.
The younger version of himself scoffed at his continued silence.
“If you actually have to think about it, maybe you deserve to be dead.”
When Blake still did not reply, the other rolled his eyes and strolled forward, standing just to the side of the Navy ranger.
“Okay, then. Let’s start with something a little easier. Yes, I look like you. No, you’re not crazy. Yes, I am here to tell you something you need to know. Does that about cover any questions you might have?”
Blake finally found his voice and with a bark of hoarse laughter, he muttered to himself, wondering what he had done to deserve this. Shaking his head, he marveled at how far he had fallen with the loss of his brother, if figments of his imagination were now appearing and talking to him.
“You See the dead, Thunder master. Both the bodies that have fallen in the past and the corpses that line the future ahead. Is it really so hard to believe that I’m here?”
The compassion in the voice made Blake turn and, now facing himself, he finally joined the previously one-sided conversation.
Opening his mouth to speak, he paused, looking closer at the miniaturized version of him, and smiled as the pieces began to fall into place.
“You’re not really me, are you? You just look like me, when I was younger. So I guess the only question I have to ask is, who are you?”
“I knew you were smarter than you were acting.”
“Half-brawn, half-brains. You didn’t answer my question.”
“Who is anyone, really? We are all formed by the events and consequences of our lives. Our decisions spin our web of Destiny, and this loom of Fate changes its thread every now and again. We become what we are and we are what we become. Riddle me this, riddle me that. How do you change what has already come to pass?”
“Is that why you’re here, to change what has happened?”
“No, Seer. I am here because you have called me, to change what is to come.”
Blake swallowed hard, the words sticking in his throat as a chill raced down his spine.
“And what, exactly, is supposed to come?”
The child-form of himself stepped forward, moving closer to Blake and gazed directly into his eyes, glowing yellow orbs of fire mesmerizing him with the haunting truth.
“But don’t you already know what happens next?”
Blake winced to himself. Yes, he knew how the story ends.
A glimpse of smoking ruins, fire and flame simmering the air around him. Blood-choked ashes rising and a violet arc of light coming his way.
He shook his head, willing away the image. He had seen that Future one too many times, and though the outcome was undesirable, it appeared to be inevitable. But maybe there was the chance to change it, now.
“You shouldn’t ignore your dreams. Their shadows hold more meaning than you think.”
Blake spun in sudden anger, spitting out his words.
“Well, I’m tired of the dreams! I don’t want them, never asked for them, and if I could, I’d choose to get rid of them!”
“You know nothing of choice!”
The amount of anger vibrating throughout the small frame made Blake unconsciously step back at its vehemence. “Choice! Two fates so deeply entangled, completely unraveled by the choice of but one. Such a thing is never meant to happen. It changes everything, gives power to someone who isn’t supposed to have it.” The sharpness went out of his tone and the shoulders slumped slightly in tiredness. “When a single soul erases what has been building for years, the results are disastrous. You know what I’m talking about. The things that you have Seen are because of that simple act of choice.”
Blake stumbled over his words, almost afraid to hear the reply.
“What about me? Have the choices I’ve made in the past changed things? Destroyed things, like Hunters’ choices did?”
The child was already shaking his head in response.
“No. Those choices did not affect the fabric of Time. The changes they made were simply absorbed, and Fate was altered to accommodate them. That is the way of decision and choice. It is when a choice is made that was never planned for that ruin occurs. When Lightning chose to walk away, everything was ripped apart. Fate did not see that one coming.”
“But it wasn’t his fault! I may not like what he did, but I do get it. I don’t blame him for leaving.” Blake smiled softly in sadness. “It’s just like him, to do everything to protect me.”
“You misunderstand me. I do not give or take away blame. I’m merely stating what happened. Hunter left because all he could see was the Crimson blood that covered his hands, and he couldn’t bear it if yours had joined it.”
“You have already made your choice, Ranger, deep down in your soul. Your power has called to me because you know what I am capable of doing. You’re coming to me is as the cries of the damned and the nearly broken. You Summoned, and I came, because you were hurt. You cried out to me, because of your need for vengeance. And you beckoned to me as the abandonment of your brother, your protector, your guardian, nearly ruined you.”
“But every second that followed was because of his actions. It is true for all creatures, Thunder. Action and reaction. Cause, and effect. Your brothers’ actions have dictated your decisions, which is why I am here. But now is the time for you to stop reacting, and start to act.”
Blake stood there absorbing everything. He opened his mouth to speak when he was seized with the familiar chilling sensation of static in his head.
He stood on the edge of a field, one where a battle had occurred not too long before. It was scarred with the remnants of fires and blasts, bodies thrown amongst the rubble. The air was thick with smoke and the scent of death hung all around him. The sound of sobbing came from behind him, and he turned to see two figures kneeling on the blood-soaked ground.
They were Rangers, ones he didn’t recognize. The one that was crying clasped the other in his arms, Red holding Silver. They were both splattered with blood and dirt, helmets off and uniforms ripped. Silver looked like death, skin pale and bruised, while Red looked on the verge of dying himself, the unusual striped hair in complete disarray.
Blake stepped backwards as Red lifted his head to the sky and screamed, the sound echoing across the distance. The raw pain and agony spread throughout space and made every soul that heard it tear in despair. But the sound did something else as well.
It awoke the Sleeping Ones, the Forgotten Ones. The three sisters of everything and nothing heard his cry and came to him; to soothe, to destroy, and to endure.
They appeared on the field, and they gave the Red Ranger what he had asked for: the vengeance he craved on those who had taken what had meant everything to him.
Blake watched as the scene sped up, fading images replacing each other as quickly as they appeared. But he saw enough.
He watched Red place Silver in a healing sleep, monitoring his condition. He saw Reds’ rampage across his galaxy, seeking the one that had hurt the other. He looked on as Red met a team of four, from a planet called Earth, and gave them the power they needed. And he gazed on, as Silver awoke and joined the others; a completed team of six to fight the evil they encountered.
He turned away as he looked at the price Red was forced to pay for his choice.
And his heart ached for Andros, the Red Ranger from KO-35, as he shattered the tube containing his mentor.
Blake came out of the vision, head ringing and had to lock his knees in order to stay upright. He felt the child-could he still be considered a child?- look on patiently, waiting for him to regain himself. Waiting for Blake to sort through what he had seen and begin to absorb the knowledge he had been given.
He wasn’t the first to be given this chance, nor would he be the last. But it wasn’t something being forced upon him, and it wasn’t meant to do anything but help. He had been allowed far more than he deserved.
And finally, he began to understand.
Everything that had led him to this moment had been a result of Hunter’s decision. He had been simply reacting to his brothers’ departure
Now was the time for action, for him to separate himself from his brother. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he didn’t blame Hunter. Protecting Blake had been everything to Hunter. He couldn’t begin to understand how it felt to be the direct and only cause to his brothers’ pain. Hunter had done what he felt he’d needed to do and Blake could never begrudge his brother any peace of mind. He would never forget Hunter, and a tiny part of him would continue to blame him and hate him, but he could begin to move on.
“If you wish to go, you must do it soon. The other warriors of color are looking for you, and they are most persistent. They will stop you, if that is the choice you make.”
Nodding his head at his younger self, Blake smiled in thanks and made his next decision.
The voices of the other Rangers echoed through the forest, getting closer and closer with every second. If he had any hope of leaving before they arrived, the time was now. Turning over his shoulder, he silently moved away into the surrounding forest, leaving no sign of his presence.
Had Blake looked behind him, he would have seen an interesting sight.
The child stared into the darkness after the Navy Ranger with shiny golden eyes, flames hovering above one of his hands and a sword oozing jealousy clasped in the other.
A slow smile spread across his lips, a shine of red tinting them like the brush of lipstick, and the voice that came through the silence was the melding of three in one.
Remember, Navy Thunder. Remember what we are, and we shall forever be at your call.
With one last glimpse, the child tossed a small object into the air and vanished in a silent storm of fire.
A spinning coin flipped, over and under, and landed on the ground.
///
The world continued to turn.
///
No one knew what had become of Navy.
Some say he joined his brother in death, his sorrow and loneliness destroying him.
Some spread rumors of a soldier, a deadly machine that annihilates all in his path.
There are whispers of a wraith that appears on the battlefield, a shroud of destruction and an apparition of fear. They say he wears a special kind of armor, made from the blood and bones of his enemies, welded to a metal impervious to harm. No one can see his face, as a mask of ebony darkness covers it. They murmur of the colors that adorn it and wonder at their meaning, for those who once would have recognized it have long since passed into dust.
One of the colors is a solid stripe down the left side over the eye, a bar of merlot red.
Crimson, they shriek in fear and despair, Crimson of blood, of pain and suffering.
The second stripe runs down over the eye on the right side, a block of midnight blue.
Navy, they cry in dread and terror, Navy of night, of cerulean tears blackened by hate.
He commands the battle, wiping all of it clean even as the dying spill their life-fluid onto the charred ground. And when all have died, he vanishes, leaving nothing behind.
Ghost, they sigh to each other, a spirit of war that seeks to even the score.
None can touch him, be it friend or foe, Fate or Fortune, Time or Chance. He weaves his own thread and creates his own veil of decision, and it is untouchable. Not by the watching Furies, confined by the limits of their power, or the tempered souls of the dead, as they watch in torment and agony at their losses.
While Crimson had faded, Navy became brighter, blazing in intensity through the expanse of space, illuminating the emptiness of Fate. The master of Thunder has no Fortune and no limit to the Time he has left.
With Time on his side, Fate ready to be scribed, and Fortune waiting to be tossed, the Navy Thunder Ranger took hold of his Chance and stepped forward, the power of Sight guiding his path.
//
End.
Title: Fractured Navy
Author: Illyria13 (andariel18)
Words: 7274
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Spoilers: Sequel to Razing Crimson, so spoilers for that fic.
Summary: Blake had seen a lot of things in his life. But nothing could have prepared him for this. And Blake didn't know what to do.
Fractured Navy
By Illyria13
Authors Note: This is a SEQUEL to another one-shot of mine titled “Razing Crimson”. I HIGHLY suggest you read that one first, otherwise you might not understand some things in this story.
This story, and Razing Crimson, is an AU from the PRNS episode “Return of Thunder, Part III.”
Originally I wasn’t planning on anything following “Razing Crimson” but then I got an amazing review that asked for more. So, I wrote “Fractured Navy”.
Thank you to Black into Blue, for giving me such a good review that I wrote another fic! I hope that you like this story!!
Summary: Blake had seen a lot of things in his life. But nothing could have prepared him for this. And Blake didn’t know what to do.
//////////
Time is ever-changing. It shifts between a moment and runs itself down through cycles: birth and death, creation and destruction, growth and decay, rise and fall.
Crimson stood on the edge of the rooftop, looking down on the battle below, waiting for the right moment to strike. When the enemy was at its’ strongest, they could be better taken by surprise.
Navy knelt, gaze perusing the enemy, mentally recording numbers and formations. Ever the strategist, he looked for the weaknesses in their group, the flaws in their attacks. Openings gave Thunder and Lightning an advantage, and they would take whatever helped.
The commander of Lightning shifted his weight fully onto his feet, body stiffening in tense alertness, his bearing altered by changes in the scene below.
The owner of Thunder straightened slightly at his perch, back going ramrod straight in response to the movement of Crimson, taking his cues from the other.
With a glance at each other, the Thunders nodded in silent communication.
As one, they spun into the oncoming horde, attacking with the ferocity that they had become known for. The two brothers were shade and shadow, gray and hollow weapons sharpened for destruction. They had learned each others’ moves, worked in unison and coordinated attacks, and so they melted together like individual flames that light an entire fire. None could stand against them and win, and combined with their fellow warriors, these Ninjas were a formidable force.
“What took you guys so long?” Yellow, the Ninja of Earth, yelled to the brothers, laughter strung throughout every inch of his body.
“Sorry, got caught in traffic. You’d think the appearance of yet another monster would make the people in this city get out of the way faster, but no. Nothing stands between them and their Starbucks.” The gruffness of his tone was belied by the rapid staccato of his blaster, as Crimson executed a smooth roll into the path of oncoming fire, protecting the unsuspecting Blue Water Ninja.
The banter was natural; the friendship and trust of seasoned warriors flowed between the group and the ease of knowing everyone there had your back was apparent.
One extremely high-powered blast by the attacking monster took them all by surprise, the percussive force knocking them off of their feet. Their balance lost, the group was forced in different directions, Wind to one side and Thunder to the other. They tumbled to the rocky ground, groaning as precious air was ripped from their lungs. Heads ringing and senses scrambled, they were unaware of the second blast heading their way.
A solitary figure protected them, weapon absorbing the attack with ease, his stance readied for any follow-up by his enemy.
The appearance of a Sixth, a Samurai wielding Star and Saber, was a welcome surprise to the downed Rangers.
Decked in an emerald colored suit lined with black and shielded with gold armor, the threatening ranger maintained his position, protecting the others as they slowly regained their footing. Keeping a wary eye on the monster, he watched for any signs that it would attack again, and blurred into a flurry of motion as it followed through with his expectations.
He was joined by the other five, their combined attacks driving the monster back, forcing it on the defensive. With a final howl of despair, it exploded in a brilliant flash of color and light, as the Rangers’ final attacks wiped it out.
Standing side by side in a loosely-knit cluster, the warriors made a captivating sight.
Two shades of the same color, Red and Crimson, stood at the front. Next came the similar colors of Blue and Navy, followed by the opposites of Yellow and Green.
A group of six, the united powers of Wind, Thunder and Samurai creating a team that stood against any threat to the Earth and each other.
Their battle fought and finished, they headed back towards their command post.
Tori walked between Shane and Dustin, the calming Waters to the fun-loving Earth and the tumultuous Air, laughing as the two tried to out do the other with stories of their battle exploits. Cam meandered sedately behind the trio, rolling his eyes at the immaturity of the supposed saviors of the world and muttering to himself about the many repairs and alterations that waited for him back at the headquarters.
The Thunder brothers followed the group, both smiling and wondering how they had been so lucky to have been extended an invitation to join the others. For two that had been far more comfortable on their own, they had adapted to being part of the team and both felt deep down that they had never been better off than at this moment.
Hunter threw an arm around his younger brothers’ shoulders, laughing as Blake blushed and ducked away, complaining about his manliness and utter distaste for signs of affection that were beneath him. Yet he secretly reveled in these moments, where Hunter was less guarded and far more open, acting more like the teenager he was. It gave him hope, for both their survival and their happiness, and for the safety of all else, that they would succeed.
In these moments, one could see glimpses of the future, of the security formed by the creation of this team. Through the Rangers’ bonds, their victory was assured.
It was a future of triumph, of winning and living; of the sweet taste of defeating their enemy, rescuing their fellow Ninja comrades, and of rebuilding their sacred Academies.
It was a future of renewal.
A future that would never come to pass.
Time is shaped by the objects it encompasses. One decision lasts a second, one second makes a lifetime, and one lifetime dies alone.
A single battle had done what countless others before hadn’t.
The relationship between the Rangers was rocky at best. From their first meeting, both Wind and Thunder felt only mistrust, and it was only a common duty that had linked them. By turning the two Thunders against the others for the second time, those that had orchestrated these events correctly assumed that the Rangers’ demise was close at hand.
But the way that the Rangers ended was not the way they had intended.
Wind had managed to save one brother, not just by their actions, but through those of his protector, but they had not succeeded with the other. Crimson had sacrificed his control and his sanity for Navy, but the resulting sequence of events had destroyed everything they ever had.
Though Thunder had restored Lightning, the weight of his actions had driven his guardian over the edge. Unable to deal, unable to see anything but his guilt, the elder of the brothers had fled, fading into the trees and shadows. The only sound left in the wake of his departure was the river, its steady stream flowing over and through and around itself.
A river of blood.
A river of tears.
A river of silence, of hollow destruction.
No one would know where he had gone, or what had happened to him.
Some say he faded, becoming a phantom of the forest, a silent watcher that wept in sorrow.
Others said he died, either by his hand or by the hands of his enemies, a last-ditch rush of destruction.
Still more claimed that he became a haunting watcher of battles, a gargoyle that looks but can never interfere.
For the younger brother, however, he knew only one thing.
Hunter was gone. He was out there somewhere, in the trees and the rain. Somewhere near where the stars die and old men cry; somewhere in this world or the next. And his little brother was going to find him.
But it was not to be.
For Hunter had left, taking all memory of him and allowed himself to fade from reality.
Absent from life, absent from existence, absent from mind.
In the act of splitting their Fates, Hunter had undone their entwined paths. He had created a rift in the balance of scales, and left all of it open to ruin and despair.
And with his disappearance, Crimson had rewritten Time itself, in such a way that none could foresee the consequences.
A single battle had done what countless others before hadn’t.
Time is written by the destinies of people’s souls. The path of one intersects with the paths of others, and these intersections create decision.
Blazing midnight splattered with precious burgundy, a stain of life and the path to death.
Above, a storm of thunder rumbled, mourning the loss of electricity. Heat filtered throughout the air, static striking on the flesh of the living and skating across the surface of the dead.
Bodies littered the field, puppets lying about with their marionette strings cut. Unmoving corpses of allies and enemies, of soldiers with no names and foes with no allegiance.
Ahead, the battle was winding down, the numbers of those alive depleting as quickly as the number of the dead rose. It is a balance of scales, equal and opposite. War was not about winning. It was about which side had the most pawns left on the chessboard and the greater amount of royalty when the game ended.
Black Queen.
Black Knight.
White King.
Checkmate.
He didn’t know why he was here. When the Wind Rangers had contacted him, he’d refused. It wasn’t his fight anymore. The world wasn’t his responsibility. But Shane had come to him, begging for his help, and he’d agreed. Perhaps some long dead sense of duty and honor had been resurrected. Perhaps his faith had been restored.
Blake snorted to himself.
The color of red would always be his weakness.
Though Shane’s suit was Red, it was bright compared to Crimson. But the concept was the same. One flash of the Red suit and all he could see was Hunter. So when Shane had appeared, Hunter had as well, if only in his mind, and it was enough to change his decision. And Blake knew that he’d walk through hell if Hunter asked.
So here he was, on a desolate ground in some ruined city that he hadn’t the inclination to learn the name of, fighting in a war he had sworn to abandon.
Looking around, he saw no one else to fight and so he walked a narrow path through the slain bodies surrounding him, glancing at some to ensure they were dead, and tallying the count.
He paused as a glimmer of Blue caught his eye, the small flash reflecting back onto his own Navy suit. Picking his way towards it, he stopped as he saw the face connected to the Blue.
It was Tori.
The Water Ninja lay, ironically, in a small puddle of water, remnants of her last attack that had collected on top of the earth. Small droplets of blood were splattered all over her, the color staining much of the blue lining on the black uniform.
Blake stared impassively down at the body at his feet and then turned, continuing his trek across the battlefield.
Once upon a time, she had meant something to him, enough that he had entertained the notion of something more. But she didn’t hold a candle to how much his brother had meant to him, and when Hunter had left, Blake had put an end to those feelings. They had no longer mattered.
But looking at her body, he had felt nothing.
And he wondered, when had he started feeling complete apathy?
And he answered himself with the image of a blond teen just slightly older than him, and the guilt pooling in those sapphire orbs.
It was yet another loss for the Rangers, the second within the span of a week. Three days ago, Shane had gone, sacrificing himself in a kamikaze attack in his Zord. Dustin, Cam and himself were the only ones left; one from Wind, one from Thunder and one from Samurai. Yellow and Green and Navy. Fitting, he supposed.
The slow whine of a blaster being fired grabbed his attention, and flipping backwards, he swore as the blast barely missed him, connecting with the ground in front of him. Quickly looking up, he frowned as he saw the objects of his thoughts grappling with a monster just a few feet away. Cursing at his inattention, Blake headed their way, barely managing to withhold his groan of annoyance.
Upon joining the fight, however, his senses starting going haywire as he felt himself falling back on defense far too many times. He felt a chill of foreboding race down his spine, and cold sweat began forming on his forehead.
And he knew, with the chilling certainty of one who has seen his end in sight, that this battle was going to make or break the ending of the war.
Yellow crumpled to the ground in a smoking heap; armor the color of sunshine bubbling and darkening in patches.
One down, two to go.
Blake couldn’t tear his eyes away from the growing puddle of blood at his feet, staining the ground. He didn’t hear his name being frantically called. He didn’t feel himself being kicked away, falling to the ground unceremoniously. All he could see was the Crimson pool surrounding him.
A screaming voice that sounded suspiciously like his brother rocked through his head, and he raised his gaze up. An arc of violet light sped towards him, the color a mixture of red and blue.
The concussive force flung his body backwards, his head impacting the rocks and gravel strewn around him.
As he lay there gasping, releasing slow, stuttered breaths, he realized he could feel nothing. Not the blood leaking from his body, or the pain of his many broken bones; not even the shock settling in as his skin turned clammy and cold.
Facing upwards towards the sky, all he could think of was how much he wanted his brother. He wanted Hunter there, holding him and telling him everything would be okay. He wanted to see his brother once more, a chance that was denied him when Lightning had stolen away in the dead of night.
If he focused his eyes enough, he could almost see him standing there, a statue of Crimson and black, wielding a blaster with the force of Lightning.
Navy reached out for Crimson, and the lost child within sobbed as his hand grasped empty air.
Time is all-knowing and perceives all within its domain. The ripples of its’ actions reach across space and touch upon the moments and the cycles.
But what is Time when someone is erased completely from its’ view?
How does Time change when a gathering of decisions is wiped away and the destiny of a soul disappears?
///
Fate.
Vengeance and avenger, Tisiphone veers in the empty expanse of nothingness, waiting for the moment in which she is summoned. For the loss of one always leaves behind another, and the souls of the abandoned cry out for her. And when she hears the screaming of the forsaken, she goes; a hideous specter spitting fire and fury, hate and retribution. She punishes them, the souls that have wronged, and she comforts the one that has beckoned to her. As one who knows pain intimately, her whispered assurances and breathy promises only ignite these damned souls. Her power is ruthless and strips the deserted of all choice and free will. Because they have already made all decision, and their timeline is now complete.
Fortune.
The jealousy of Megaera is formed not by her own soul, but from those who feel it reverberating through themselves. It is gathered from them all and shaped into a wicked sword, a weapon she wields with deadly accuracy. But it is double-edged, cutting the wielder as much as the target, coating both souls deep down to the core. Green-eyed and pretty, the envious channel her and it is through them that she manifests. And when she appears, the fire of her rage is bitter and clouded by ashy fumes. She sears the air with her arrival, driving all in her path to destruction, and shrieks her triumph into the churning sky. She is no sentinel, for she can never be still, but her driven actions are different than the sister of Vengeance. Tricks or Treats, she howls into souls. Lady luck is here to play.
Time.
Alecto, unending anger, scarlet tears dripping as she shrieks at what is to come, watching as the strands between insects unravels by decision. And she knows when her sister is called upon, and she sits, a seething guardian, as Vengeance reels above the battlefield she is drawn to. When her moment comes, she rises in the Summoner, and appears with the other two, the last of the trinity they form. She is the oldest, she is the strongest and she is the one to be feared. For she is unceasing and relentless, and the siren calls of the angered would forever draw her from her tapestry of strings.
The sisters of Fury walk the battlefield, torching all in their path, scorching the earth they tread upon. A solitary figure has called to them, his screams of pain and rage like music to their ears. It has been far too long since their reign, and most had forgotten what they had once been. But not this soul.
He had cried out for them in his agony, summoning Them, and so they had come, ready to smite his suffering, just as they did for another so like him, a Ranger of Red, so many years ago.
Avenging Tisiphone destroys, flame in hand and the blistering heat of Fate.
Jealous Megaera soothes, Sors ventus temerarus. Fortune favors the bold.
Angered Alecto endures, because Time is never ending.
The Furies scream in unison, their voices melding into one, and their Summoner howls with them as everything explodes in whiteness.
///
They are three points of a triangle that trap a circle within their walls, a single ring containing a coin.
Though three have formed the barrier, only two sides exist to the coin itself. Dichotomized. Split. Opposite. Heads and Tails. Black and White. Life and Death. Fifty-fifty odds of getting one or the other. Zero percent of getting them both at the same time.
This is Chance.
Yet without them both, these two sides, there can be no Chance, just as there is none when only one exists.
Navy and Crimson. Thunder and Lightning. Sound and Light. Heat and Energy.
The coin is flipped, heads over tails.
What goes up must come down.
Fifty-fifty odds of getting one side or the other.
Zero percent of getting them both.
The coin lands.
///
Even before the others had told him, with shifting eyes and shuffling feet, he’d known. He didn’t need their half-stuttered excuses and their false promises. He didn’t need their comforting ways of delaying and hindering and hiding. Nothing could prevent the truth; not their words or their concerns or their interfering natures. Their very bodies displayed it, like a cat displays the mice it catches to its master even though it cannot speak of its’ hunt.
Because he had felt the absence of his brother, in both heart and mind. Felt the solitude and screaming loneliness of abandonment reverberating in his soul.
He didn’t acknowledge them, these Rangers with their honor and their goodness. Didn’t see their good will or hear their assurances of returning his brother.
Instead, he turned from them, from the masters of Earth, Air and Water, and left them standing there. Unknowingly, he echoed his brothers’ path from this fortress, treading in his footsteps into the surrounding forest.
Deep down, in a place he couldn’t acknowledge, he had known that this was coming; that this moment would appear. Had felt it with dreaded certainty, with only the date of its arrival kept hidden in shadow.
Seeing was a trait not common among even Ninjas’ and even less amongst the Thunder academy. It was one of falsehood and airs, taint and bleak truths; of ruthless madness, and the resonance of voiceless screams.
But he knew the truth.
It was reality without time, it was Fate without existence, and it was Fortune without breath. It was impossible to conceive its’ entirety, for no one part of it belonged to anyone.
Those whom were gifted with Sight could never be without it, yet Sight was nothing without one to See it. They were two rough pieces of a jagged, splintered whole, and they lived off of each other in order to survive.
He had learned to accept his curse and in time, even learn to control it. He could never choose what he’d See but he could sometimes choose when. It had saved both his life and his brothers’ in battle more than once, like an extra intuition. What did it matter that he sometimes lived lives that weren’t his own, or Saw things that he couldn’t possibly know? Nobody got hurt. He was just fine.
The impacting thud of his fist hitting tree echoed around him.
Okay, maybe he wasn’t fine.
He was angry. No, scratch that, he was furious. At his brother, at life, at his sensei and his parents. They all had abandoned him just when he always needed them the most.
How could Hunter just leave him? He knew how bad Blake could get with the things he could See. Sometimes it took him days to recognize what time he was in. Without Hunter to pull him back, nothing was stopping him from losing it entirely.
He remembered what he had told Hunter once, after a particularly bad vision. Hunter had been upset and mad at himself for being unable to help. Blake had smiled at him and said one thing: These things are not meant for you to see, Hunter. It is my curse and you are not allowed to take it from me. You can only try to lessen the burden.
He couldn’t go to the others; he didn’t want them to know about it and frankly, he didn’t trust them. And he knew how they would look at him and how they would treat him.
Prophet. Seer. Psychic. Oracle.
He wasn’t someone’s eight ball that they could shake when they wanted a quick yes or no answer. He didn’t tell peoples Fortune or read the cards.
He simply did what he needed to keep Hunter and himself alive.
It was ironic, really.
He’d seen almost every possible future. He’d seen Hunter die, others die, even himself die. He’d seen battles and wars, other Rangers beyond them and the outcome of it all. And he’d still been completely blind-sided.
Because he had never seen this.
///
He didn’t care what had been sacrificed for him. He didn’t acknowledge all the pain, the tears, the blood and life that had been given for him.
He was done with it. Done with it all.
He had never asked to be idolized. To be placed first, to be coddled and kept locked away like a secret treasure to be taken out only when one wanted something shiny and new.
He both hated and loved his brother for what he had done.
Because he understood how hard it must have been to walk away and leave him behind. But in saving him, he had abandoned him. And for that crime, Blake could never forgive.
Hunter had broken his promise.
It was the one thing the older brother had always upheld, stood by and ranked above all else. The Crimson ranger knew what it was like to live a life of broken promises and so had thus sworn against ever doing it.
Yet what he had hated so much in others, he had gained in himself.
But what could he do? Hunter was family, in everything but blood and if he condemned him, he’d need to condemn himself.
He stared broodingly into the waters churning in front of him. The waterfall was tranquility and violence wrapped around each other, and the sight was beautiful. Beautiful, but deadly. If someone were to get trapped in its’ stream, they more than likely would end up dead.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
Blake spun around, his eyes widening as they fell upon the figure standing in front of him. It was a child, around 9 years old, with short dark hair and dark eyes. But it wasn’t just any child.
It was him.
Clad in his training uniform of black leather edge with Navy, the child stared upwards, his head tilted to the side in a curious fashion. Blake recognized that look; he’d used it often as a child when he was standing still with his brother. The solemn expression on his younger self’s face, however, was different.
The weight of his gaze was heavy, with knowledge and truth, a look that was far too serious and old for a child of that age.
“You think you’d seen a ghost the way you’re staring at me. But I’m not a ghost. Am I?” The child stepped forward, gaze shifting into something close to mockery. “That would mean I’m dead, which means that you’d be dead. But you’re not. Are you?”
Blake stared dumbfounded at himself, shocked by both the appearance of the child and the fact that it was him, down to the sarcasm and the outfit.
The younger version of himself scoffed at his continued silence.
“If you actually have to think about it, maybe you deserve to be dead.”
When Blake still did not reply, the other rolled his eyes and strolled forward, standing just to the side of the Navy ranger.
“Okay, then. Let’s start with something a little easier. Yes, I look like you. No, you’re not crazy. Yes, I am here to tell you something you need to know. Does that about cover any questions you might have?”
Blake finally found his voice and with a bark of hoarse laughter, he muttered to himself, wondering what he had done to deserve this. Shaking his head, he marveled at how far he had fallen with the loss of his brother, if figments of his imagination were now appearing and talking to him.
“You See the dead, Thunder master. Both the bodies that have fallen in the past and the corpses that line the future ahead. Is it really so hard to believe that I’m here?”
The compassion in the voice made Blake turn and, now facing himself, he finally joined the previously one-sided conversation.
Opening his mouth to speak, he paused, looking closer at the miniaturized version of him, and smiled as the pieces began to fall into place.
“You’re not really me, are you? You just look like me, when I was younger. So I guess the only question I have to ask is, who are you?”
“I knew you were smarter than you were acting.”
“Half-brawn, half-brains. You didn’t answer my question.”
“Who is anyone, really? We are all formed by the events and consequences of our lives. Our decisions spin our web of Destiny, and this loom of Fate changes its thread every now and again. We become what we are and we are what we become. Riddle me this, riddle me that. How do you change what has already come to pass?”
“Is that why you’re here, to change what has happened?”
“No, Seer. I am here because you have called me, to change what is to come.”
Blake swallowed hard, the words sticking in his throat as a chill raced down his spine.
“And what, exactly, is supposed to come?”
The child-form of himself stepped forward, moving closer to Blake and gazed directly into his eyes, glowing yellow orbs of fire mesmerizing him with the haunting truth.
“But don’t you already know what happens next?”
Blake winced to himself. Yes, he knew how the story ends.
A glimpse of smoking ruins, fire and flame simmering the air around him. Blood-choked ashes rising and a violet arc of light coming his way.
He shook his head, willing away the image. He had seen that Future one too many times, and though the outcome was undesirable, it appeared to be inevitable. But maybe there was the chance to change it, now.
“You shouldn’t ignore your dreams. Their shadows hold more meaning than you think.”
Blake spun in sudden anger, spitting out his words.
“Well, I’m tired of the dreams! I don’t want them, never asked for them, and if I could, I’d choose to get rid of them!”
“You know nothing of choice!”
The amount of anger vibrating throughout the small frame made Blake unconsciously step back at its vehemence. “Choice! Two fates so deeply entangled, completely unraveled by the choice of but one. Such a thing is never meant to happen. It changes everything, gives power to someone who isn’t supposed to have it.” The sharpness went out of his tone and the shoulders slumped slightly in tiredness. “When a single soul erases what has been building for years, the results are disastrous. You know what I’m talking about. The things that you have Seen are because of that simple act of choice.”
Blake stumbled over his words, almost afraid to hear the reply.
“What about me? Have the choices I’ve made in the past changed things? Destroyed things, like Hunters’ choices did?”
The child was already shaking his head in response.
“No. Those choices did not affect the fabric of Time. The changes they made were simply absorbed, and Fate was altered to accommodate them. That is the way of decision and choice. It is when a choice is made that was never planned for that ruin occurs. When Lightning chose to walk away, everything was ripped apart. Fate did not see that one coming.”
“But it wasn’t his fault! I may not like what he did, but I do get it. I don’t blame him for leaving.” Blake smiled softly in sadness. “It’s just like him, to do everything to protect me.”
“You misunderstand me. I do not give or take away blame. I’m merely stating what happened. Hunter left because all he could see was the Crimson blood that covered his hands, and he couldn’t bear it if yours had joined it.”
“You have already made your choice, Ranger, deep down in your soul. Your power has called to me because you know what I am capable of doing. You’re coming to me is as the cries of the damned and the nearly broken. You Summoned, and I came, because you were hurt. You cried out to me, because of your need for vengeance. And you beckoned to me as the abandonment of your brother, your protector, your guardian, nearly ruined you.”
“But every second that followed was because of his actions. It is true for all creatures, Thunder. Action and reaction. Cause, and effect. Your brothers’ actions have dictated your decisions, which is why I am here. But now is the time for you to stop reacting, and start to act.”
Blake stood there absorbing everything. He opened his mouth to speak when he was seized with the familiar chilling sensation of static in his head.
He stood on the edge of a field, one where a battle had occurred not too long before. It was scarred with the remnants of fires and blasts, bodies thrown amongst the rubble. The air was thick with smoke and the scent of death hung all around him. The sound of sobbing came from behind him, and he turned to see two figures kneeling on the blood-soaked ground.
They were Rangers, ones he didn’t recognize. The one that was crying clasped the other in his arms, Red holding Silver. They were both splattered with blood and dirt, helmets off and uniforms ripped. Silver looked like death, skin pale and bruised, while Red looked on the verge of dying himself, the unusual striped hair in complete disarray.
Blake stepped backwards as Red lifted his head to the sky and screamed, the sound echoing across the distance. The raw pain and agony spread throughout space and made every soul that heard it tear in despair. But the sound did something else as well.
It awoke the Sleeping Ones, the Forgotten Ones. The three sisters of everything and nothing heard his cry and came to him; to soothe, to destroy, and to endure.
They appeared on the field, and they gave the Red Ranger what he had asked for: the vengeance he craved on those who had taken what had meant everything to him.
Blake watched as the scene sped up, fading images replacing each other as quickly as they appeared. But he saw enough.
He watched Red place Silver in a healing sleep, monitoring his condition. He saw Reds’ rampage across his galaxy, seeking the one that had hurt the other. He looked on as Red met a team of four, from a planet called Earth, and gave them the power they needed. And he gazed on, as Silver awoke and joined the others; a completed team of six to fight the evil they encountered.
He turned away as he looked at the price Red was forced to pay for his choice.
And his heart ached for Andros, the Red Ranger from KO-35, as he shattered the tube containing his mentor.
Blake came out of the vision, head ringing and had to lock his knees in order to stay upright. He felt the child-could he still be considered a child?- look on patiently, waiting for him to regain himself. Waiting for Blake to sort through what he had seen and begin to absorb the knowledge he had been given.
He wasn’t the first to be given this chance, nor would he be the last. But it wasn’t something being forced upon him, and it wasn’t meant to do anything but help. He had been allowed far more than he deserved.
And finally, he began to understand.
Everything that had led him to this moment had been a result of Hunter’s decision. He had been simply reacting to his brothers’ departure
Now was the time for action, for him to separate himself from his brother. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he didn’t blame Hunter. Protecting Blake had been everything to Hunter. He couldn’t begin to understand how it felt to be the direct and only cause to his brothers’ pain. Hunter had done what he felt he’d needed to do and Blake could never begrudge his brother any peace of mind. He would never forget Hunter, and a tiny part of him would continue to blame him and hate him, but he could begin to move on.
“If you wish to go, you must do it soon. The other warriors of color are looking for you, and they are most persistent. They will stop you, if that is the choice you make.”
Nodding his head at his younger self, Blake smiled in thanks and made his next decision.
The voices of the other Rangers echoed through the forest, getting closer and closer with every second. If he had any hope of leaving before they arrived, the time was now. Turning over his shoulder, he silently moved away into the surrounding forest, leaving no sign of his presence.
Had Blake looked behind him, he would have seen an interesting sight.
The child stared into the darkness after the Navy Ranger with shiny golden eyes, flames hovering above one of his hands and a sword oozing jealousy clasped in the other.
A slow smile spread across his lips, a shine of red tinting them like the brush of lipstick, and the voice that came through the silence was the melding of three in one.
Remember, Navy Thunder. Remember what we are, and we shall forever be at your call.
With one last glimpse, the child tossed a small object into the air and vanished in a silent storm of fire.
A spinning coin flipped, over and under, and landed on the ground.
///
The world continued to turn.
///
No one knew what had become of Navy.
Some say he joined his brother in death, his sorrow and loneliness destroying him.
Some spread rumors of a soldier, a deadly machine that annihilates all in his path.
There are whispers of a wraith that appears on the battlefield, a shroud of destruction and an apparition of fear. They say he wears a special kind of armor, made from the blood and bones of his enemies, welded to a metal impervious to harm. No one can see his face, as a mask of ebony darkness covers it. They murmur of the colors that adorn it and wonder at their meaning, for those who once would have recognized it have long since passed into dust.
One of the colors is a solid stripe down the left side over the eye, a bar of merlot red.
Crimson, they shriek in fear and despair, Crimson of blood, of pain and suffering.
The second stripe runs down over the eye on the right side, a block of midnight blue.
Navy, they cry in dread and terror, Navy of night, of cerulean tears blackened by hate.
He commands the battle, wiping all of it clean even as the dying spill their life-fluid onto the charred ground. And when all have died, he vanishes, leaving nothing behind.
Ghost, they sigh to each other, a spirit of war that seeks to even the score.
None can touch him, be it friend or foe, Fate or Fortune, Time or Chance. He weaves his own thread and creates his own veil of decision, and it is untouchable. Not by the watching Furies, confined by the limits of their power, or the tempered souls of the dead, as they watch in torment and agony at their losses.
While Crimson had faded, Navy became brighter, blazing in intensity through the expanse of space, illuminating the emptiness of Fate. The master of Thunder has no Fortune and no limit to the Time he has left.
With Time on his side, Fate ready to be scribed, and Fortune waiting to be tossed, the Navy Thunder Ranger took hold of his Chance and stepped forward, the power of Sight guiding his path.
//
End.