Aftermath 

    Zordon and Finnan transported into the Power Chamber. The older man's white robes were stained with soot, blood, and ichors. His long silver hair was matted with sweat and blood: some his, some Zedd's.
Finnan looked around the Chamber, at the crystal fragments in a blast ring around the destroyed tube, at the still-standing deactivated Alpha unit, and the scene still displayed on the view screen. "Oh dear," he murmured, taking in the sight of the five motionless Rangers.
    "Finnan, try to get Alpha back online," Zordon instructed. "I need to clean up, and then...there's something I have to do."

    Clad in a clean white tunic, sash, and leggings, Zordon transported into Billy's living room. The bodies of the teens lay where they had fallen. Zordon knelt and touched Kimberly's cold cheek, brushing the back of his fingers against her forehead. Hot tears burned his eyes as he looked around the room. The portraits, memorials to their fallen comrades. The candles, testaments to their legacies. The cooled puddles of blue and red wax in front of Rocky's photograph caught Zordon's attention. He lifted the smiling portrait, then brushed away a tear that threatened to fall.
    Zordon turned back to the bodies. "Trini, I chose you for Yellow because of your vast reserves of inner strength. I had no idea those years past that you would be tested by an ordeal of this magnitude. Zachary, your love for life was why I chose you for the Black. I hated seeing your energy and your smile wane over these past weeks. Jason." Zordon knelt by Jason's side. "Jason, you were my first choice for Red Ranger, first choice for leader of the team. Despite the tests, despite any doubts Rita tried to cast upon you, you managed to succeed where Tommy faltered--you trusted your ability to lead." He shook his head sadly. "I just wish you could have lead your team out of this tragedy.
    "Billy, my scientist, my Blue Ranger. You were perfectly suited for the Blue, proving it by holding your color until the end. I wept when you could not take the Gold, but I know why you couldn't. Negative proton molecules were just a cover. You were Blue. Any other color would have corrupted your intelligence. I see your hand in arranging this ceremony. You always did lend strength to your friends.
    "Kimberly." Zordon tenderly brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "Beautiful pterodactyl, spirited firebird, graceful, fragile crane. You were my favorite among the Rangers. You, who were the most skeptical, became the truest of Rangers. I remember, even if you do not, how you insisted the others try to use their combined powers to save me after Ivan destroyed my prison. If times had been different…" Zordon choked back tears. "If times had been different, I would have sponsored your entrance into the Morphin Academy. You were a daughter to me." He stood, wiping his hands with the back of his hand.
    "I have failed you, my Rangers. I failed to protect you when you needed it most. I promise you, whomever your successors may be, I won't make the same mistakes." He waved his hand, and the morphers disappeared into their deactivation dimension. "Next time, I will be more careful." He cast one last glance around the room, then waved his hand. Billy's self-installed security system keyed off, sending an alarm to the police station.
    "Goodbye, my Rangers. May you find peace in the afterlife."

    Lieutenant Jerome Stone and Detective Trevor Park arrived at the house at the same time. The initial team sent to investigate had sent word of the findings to the station.
    "Trevor. I didn't think you'd be here," Jerome said, closing the door to his police cruiser.
    "I had to be here, Jerome. This may be related to Adam's..."
    "I know." Jerome took his hat off. "Let's get this over with."
    The greasy smell of melted wax greeted their nostrils as they opened the door. Jerome stepped in first, followed by Trevor. The officers who first responded to the call came up to them. "Lieutenant, we're nearly through documenting the scene. The coroner's on his way. Detective Park...you may not want to see this."
    Wordlessly, Trevor moved past the young officer into the living room. The curtains were still drawn, not so much to keep out the sun, but to keep out the prying eyes of gossips. The five bodies were still in their circle.
    "Suicide pact?" Jerome suggested, drawing on latex gloves as he looked at the mantelpiece and the burned-out tapers in front of each body. "I can't believe they'd be involved in cult activity. But with the millennium coming up, who knows what kids would turn to."
    "I knew these kids, Jerome. They were my son's friends. Billy sat at my dining room table. I talked forensics with him for three hours one night. Kimberly threw Adam a surprise birthday party." Trevor ran a hand over the two-day's growth on his cheeks. "I don't know how much more of this I can take." He walked over to the mantle and picked up the 8x10 of Adam in latex-covered fingers.
    "I really don't know how much more of this I can take."

    Chief Edward Prince stood on the doorstep of the last house he had to visit. So far, he'd been to the Scott household, where Michael Scott, Angel Grove's macho-est of macho men, had bawled like a newborn; to the Taylor household, where Miranda and Jeremy Taylor had grimly accepted the news of their only child; to the Kwan household, where Kim and Wing had listened in disbelief; and to Hank Cranston's, where Chief Prince had consoled his old friend on the tragic loss of his last remaining family. Now, he stood on Philip Hart's doorstep, prepared to ring the doorbell.
    Barbara, Philip’s ex-wife, Kimberly's mother, opened the door. "Oh god," she breathed when she saw the chief of police. "Pierre! It's Kim...oh, no!" Barbara crumpled in the doorway, her artist husband catching her just before she hit the floor.
    Philip and his second wife, Caroline, came to the door. "Chief Prince."
    "Mr. Hart." The chief met the businessman's compelling gaze. "I'm sorry, Philip, but Kimberly..."
    "Oh god, my daughter!" Barbara wailed, burying her head in Pierre's shoulder.
    "Kimberly was found dead with four of her friends this afternoon. Right now, it's classified as a suicide. The autopsy and forensics' examination of the evidence will tell us more. Again, Philip, Barbara, Pierre, Caroline, my deepest sympathies. My own daughter is only a few years younger than Kimberly, and I know how I'd feel if I lost her."
    Philip had his arms around Caroline, who was quietly crying. "I know, Edward. I know."

    Ernie sat in front of the juice bar he used to work behind. Adelle had pulled up a stool and sat next to him. The front page of the Angel Grove Chronicle was spread out on the bar. "Five found dead in apparent suicide pact. Deaths now number twelve," the headline proclaimed. Underneath, there was a summary of the scene in Billy Cranston's living room, complete with police photos of the mantelpiece and a description of how the bodies were found. The front page referred to page two, where feature pieces on the five teens were, as well as a repeat of the previous seven.
    "I had to come home to this," Ernie commented, gesturing at the paper.
    "We were all shocked when we heard about the first one, little Justin," Adelle told him. "Angel Grove has changed since you left, Ernie. After the third death, poor Adam, the police, spurred by his father, started enforcing curfews, chaining off areas prone to attacks. But the deaths kept happening. Katherine, and Aisha...and poor Rocky."
    Ernie shook his head. "Things are not going to be the same without them." He looked around the center, at the mats where Tommy, Jason, Adam and Rocky had sparred and taught their karate classes, at the beam where Kimberly had practiced, at the patch of dance floor, and the center table where they could always be found. "This place is full of their spirit."
    "Maybe we should do something, place a plaque or something, in their honor," Adelle suggested, her voice betraying her true thoughts of the idea.
    "Maybe." Ernie looked over to the dim corner where two familiar figures sat. "Wonder how those two are holding up."
    Bulk and Skull were staring at a crumpled copy of the Chronicle. Skull had a tall, half-finished extra-chocolate milkshake. Bulk had a diet Sprite with extra ice.
    "Man," Skull breathed.
    "Yeah."
    "Heavy."
    "Very."
    "Weird."
    "Extremely."
    "Bulkie..." Skull hesitated. "Do you dream?"
    "Of course I do," Bulk replied gruffly. "Everyone dreams."
    "I mean a certain kind of dream. I've had the same dream every night now for a week." Skull stirred his milkshake. "It's strange, and I can barely remember it. There're a lot of exploding colors, though. I remember that much."
    Bulk nodded. "I've had dreams like that recently, too. I remember, though, that..." he pointed at the paper, "...that they were there."
    "Do you think...?"
    "No." Bulk shook his head. "Don't even suggest it."
    "But..."
    "No! Skull, I know what you're thinking. Don't. We can't..."
    "What?"
    Bulk looked around and lowered his voice. "We can't let anyone know that we know why they died." He snapped his fingers. "I have an idea, Skully." He leaned over and whispered furiously. Skull nodded, at first perfunctory, then more enthusiastically.
    "Think Kaplan will let us? We didn't part on the greatest of terms," Skull pointed out.
    "We graduated, didn't we? Besides, we're former Junior Police Officers, private investigators, and alien hunters. We're respectable now! It's worth a shot."

    "How are the repairs, Finnan?" Zordon asked.
    The younger man looked up from his work. "I'm afraid Alpha 5 is beyond repair, Master. His circuit board was nearly melted in the overload, and I'm afraid I don't have the electrical expertise to rewire an Edenoi Alpha unit."
    Zordon looked at the disconnected pieces of his longtime companion and, yes, friend. "I am sorry to hear that, Finnan."
    "However, the memory units are still intact. If we could get another Alpha unit, we could insert the 5's memory units."
    Zordon told Finnan where the storage chambers were. "There should be a crate marked 'Alpha 6.' Go ahead and install 5's mem-units."

    "So what do you think?" Bulk asked anxiously. Mr. Kaplan and Ms. Applebee sat, stunned.
    "It's...a wonderful idea, Farkus," Ms. Applebee remarked. "Absolutely wonderful. A memorial service for the children. It's a touching idea."
    "I agree." Mr. Kaplan stood. "As it is, it's going to be tough for the other students come September. Even though they graduated this past May, they were integral parts of student life."
    "And young Justin, just starting to weave himself into the fabric of Angel Grove High." Ms. Applebee shook her head. "This was a true tragedy. Yes, the two of you can plan a memorial service. The school will support you."
    "Thanks, Mr. Kaplan, Ms. Applebee." Bulk and Skull stood. "As much as we argued with them, we did respect them."
    "In a way, they were our friends, too," Skull added.

    "How are the repairs going?" Zordon asked for what felt like the hundredth time.
    "Almost finished, Master," Finnan replied, inserting the last mem-unit into the new Alpha unit. "I just need to reattach this panel, reconnect this power supply, and...done!" Finnan activated the new Alpha unit and stepped back.
    "Aye...yi...yipe!" the unit exclaimed. In turned around in a circle three times, taking in its surroundings.
    "Alpha 6, do you remember?" Zordon asked. The unit turned to face him.
    "Zordon! You are..."
    Finnan stood ready to switch off the unit if it appeared to be overloading again.
    "You are safe," the droid finished with a mechanical sigh.
    "Yes, Alpha, I am," Zordon reassured the droid. Finnan stepped away from Alpha to stand next to Zordon. "Alpha, this is Finnan. He is my apprentice now."
    Alpha's head turned to the side. "Finnan...that name...oh! Finnan! Finster!"
    "Yes, Alpha, I was Finster. However, with Zordon's help, I am what I once was--a student of the White."
    Alpha's head swiveled from Zordon to Finnan and back again.
    "It is all right, Alpha. Finnan is true. He will not be swayed by evil again."

    "Get a load of this." Michael Grayson dropped an AP wire printout onto Lexie Jones's desk.
    "Five found dead in apparent suicide pact," she read aloud before skimming the article. "Angel Grove, California. Where the hell is that, and why the hell does it sound familiar?"
    "Power Rangers," Michael informed her. "Angel Grove is your typical LA-suburb, except that it boasts five or six spandex-suited superheroes with really big robots who fight evil space aliens convinced that once they take over Angel Grove, the rest of the world will be a pushover. Other than that, it hasn't been in the news much--until now."
    "Tell me more."
    Michael filled her in on the entire situation, starting with the death of twelve-year-old boy genius Justin Stewart and finishing with the suicide pact. "And what I want you to find out, Lexie, is why twelve well-respected, play-by-the-book teens, most of them recent high-school grads, died, seven of them in grisly homicides. Witnesses and family members report that the bodies were brought in by an honor guard of four Power Rangers. And if that's true, where were the Power Rangers when the other five decided to kill themselves?"
    "In other words, Grayson, you're hoping for a juicy story implicating the Power Rangers." Lexie grinned. "I'll do my best, J. Jonah."
    "You know I hate when you call me that," Michael admonished. "He's a fictional newspaper editor. I'm a flesh-and-blood cable news producer. We have nothing in common." He returned her smile anyway. "But to answer you, right now, I'd settle for the truth surrounding the deaths--as long as we get the story first."
    "You got it, boss."

    Lexie pulled the rental van into the parking lot behind Angel Grove High. After four hours on the plane from New York, and then trying to find her way to this little suburb, she wasn't exactly in the mood to do heavy-duty on-camera reporting. But the fliers posted all over town told her that tonight was the time to start. "This is where the action is, Craig," she told her cameraman. "You got footage of those fliers, right?"
    "Yup, all on film," he reassured her. "We going in?"
    "You bet. I want to get this vigil on tape, and I'm hoping for an interview with the planners."
    "Friends of the victims, right?"
    "Farkus Bulkmeier and Eugene Skullovitch. Word on the street is that they organized both tonight's candlelight vigil and tomorrow's memorial service. Grayson wants us to broadcast live from that service tomorrow, and get footage of the vigil for the newsreels tonight."
    "Whatever the boss man wants." Craig hoisted the camera to his shoulder. "Let's get this show on the road."

    Inside, Bulk, Skull, David, Raymond, Richie, Laura, Marge, Violet, Jenny, Shawna, Curtis, Shawn, Angela, Carlos and Ashley were handing out candles to everyone coming in. Twelve thick pillar candles burned at the front of the gym, one next to each 16x12 portrait of the fallen teens. Piles of wrapped flowers were at the base of each easel, with hundreds more arranged in huge wreaths around the stage.
    Nearly the entire AGHS student body turned out for the service, with hundreds more from Stone Canyon who remembered Rocky, Adam and Aisha. It was into this that Lexie and Craig entered. "You go get some film; I'll check around for Bulkmeier and Skullovitch," Lexie instructed. Craig went off to film the stage and portraits; Lexie prowled the crowd, searching for Bulk and Skull.
    She found them opening a new crate of candles. "Farkus Bulkmeier? Eugene Skullovitch?" At their nods, she continued. "I'm Lexie Jones, with Lifeline News. We're going to be running a spot on the vigil tonight, as well as broadcasting tomorrow's service. I was hoping to get an interview with the two of you. You are responsible for this, aren't you?" She waved, taking in the gym, the stage, and the hundreds of teenagers holding candles.
    "It didn't really take much," Bulk said. "They were well-known, well-liked..."
    "Well-loved," Skull added, casting a glance at the smiling portrait of Kimberly.
    Lexie motioned for Craig to come over. "Go on."
    "They were the best and brightest from Angel Grove. Billy and Justin were the brains, Kimberly was a cheerleader, Jason, Tommy, Zack and Rocky were football players, Adam coached the soccer team, and he and Tanya were on the baseball team. Katherine and Tanya wrote the alma mater; all of them were just so active in student life."
    "We didn't always get along," Skull admitted. "It wasn't until our senior year that we started to understand, to see in them the light that everyone else saw. They weren't the dweebs, geeks and brains we'd always called them. They were...special. I can't explain it. They had something we didn't, something inside. They could find the good in everyone."
    "That's what makes this whole thing so tragic. They were all so good. We can't understand why anyone would do this. Especially to them." Bulk looked up and saw Carlos and Ashley signaling for more candles. "We have to go. You're welcome to film, both tonight and tomorrow; just don't interrupt anything." Bulk picked up a few boxes of candles and left to distribute them.

    The morning dawned cold and clear. The hundreds of teens that showed up for the candlelight vigil pitched in, setting up chairs and setting the stage for the services. Lexie and Craig filmed the preparations, getting the footage of the parents and other adults arriving.
    Mr. Kaplan and Ms. Applebee took their places on the stage. Mr. Kaplan stepped up to the microphone. "Good morning," he started, looking out at the sea of faces. The gym was full, from the two walls of bleachers to the folding chairs on the gym floor. Kaplan took a deep breath and continued. "Thank you all for coming today to honor the memories of these fallen teens. Justin Stewart, Tanya Sloan, Adam Park, Katherine Hilliard, Aisha Campbell, Richard 'Rocky' DeSantos, Thomas Oliver, Jason Scott, Zachary Taylor, Trini Kwan, William Cranston, and Kimberly Hart were all beloved members of the student body and of the community. Their spirit lives on in this school and town. Their memory will not be forgotten.
    "I'm going to turn these services over now to two of their peers, Farkus Bulkmeier and Eugene Skullovitch." Kaplan sat down and Skull stood to address the audience.
    "These twelve teens all had something in common. Friendship. They were all close--so close, they even ended their lives together. Friends like that are hard to find, and even harder to hold onto. These twelve were lucky." Skull paused to take several deep breaths. "For most of my life, I envied their closeness. I realize now that if I had been able to put aside my envy, I might have been able to experience that closeness." Skull wiped at his eyes and started to shuffle his papers when a nearby explosion rocked the gymnasium.
    "What's going on?" Lexie exclaimed as another explosion shattered the skylights, raining glass on the screaming attendants.
    "I don't know, but we're broadcasting live!" Craig called back, swiveling the camera to get the full scope of the damage.
    "Grayson's gonna love this. Let's get outside and see what's going on." Lexie and Craig tried to make their way through the panicked crowds.

    Alarms were blaring in the Power Chamber. Finnan and Alpha 6 raced to the consoles to find out what caused them. Finnan looked up to meet Zordon's haunted eyes.
    "It's Master Vile. He's returned."

Chapter Two: Rebuilding
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Back to the Castle
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