Disclaimer: Power Rangers belongs to Saban. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Q concept belongs to Paramount. Rogue Squadron concept belongs to George Lucas. All other characters are my creation.
The human video game ace who had somehow gotten off planet, joined the Council Fighter Corps, and was good enough to get into the training group for Rogue Squadron, wasn't afraid. He'd outfought every flying video game ever made, and was regarded as THE TOP game player on the planet. He could blow away anything with ease. He had never been shot down in any simulation, and he wasn't about to start now. The only name he gave out was "Ace," and he sure was one.
His group was flying outdated Trypticron Blazers, a mediocre fighter that had come into common use for several hundred years due to one thing. It was incredibily cheap. It had twin blasters, no shields, poor engines and maneuverability, and no shields. The enemy was flying some kind of fighter with a long pointed cockpit, and four long wings sticking out perpendicularly from the rear of the ship, forming into a "plus" sign. At the end of each wing was a deadly blaster, and Ace's sensors showed him that they also had a pair of deadly missile launchers at the front of the cockpit. This was his kind of fight.
No one was in command, so he took control of his flight group of four. "This is Ace. I'm taking over," he yelled over the communicator. "Good, no protests," he interrupted before anyone could yelp out anything. "Two and Three, you're wingmen. Watch eachother's backs. Four, you're with me, and don't do anything stupid. Just watch the master at work and try not to get yourself killed. CHARGE!" And with that Ace gunned his engines to maximum, and began firing his twin blasters at maximum range, getting hits on the Quads, as he called the enemy fighters. He did little damage, but he forced them to break up their formation and scatter into evasive maneuvers. He got behind one, stayed on its tail, and blew it to space dust. This wouldn't be so hard after all, he thought. And I was hoping for a challenge.
Another flyer was having more trouble. The being known only as the Rogue Ranger was snarling. All that was known about him was that he was an outcast Ranger, exiled for killing a member of his team. He fought an ongoing war with the forces of evil using the heaviest weapons available, and he didn't care about civilian casualties. They were just distractions that got in the way and needed to be disposed of once they became bothersome. He used no finesse, only brute force. His fighter was very slow, but very heavily shielded and armed. He pointed himself right towards the center of an enemy formation, fired a torpedo, and watched them all become destroyed in the resulting conflagration.
Gront, a dark blue skinned humanoid had featureless light green eyes, no hair and a pulsing skull that beat like a heart. Gront was a Nidelidian, a race that believes that all evil things were not natural and must be destroyed. They were masters at efficiency, no energy was ever wasted by them. They were said to have made movement so mechanical that they were called the Robot Paladins of the galaxy. He targetted several approaching fighters and fired at them, hitting them all, and using laser bolts as if they were rationed, and not nearly limitless. He spotted a Quad making a run on one of his flight, so he flipped around and said tonelessly, "Break now. I will target and destroy enemy craft on your tail." His wingalien broke to the right, and when the enemy craft followed it, right into Gront's laser sights. The explosion shook his ship, and he ignored the thanks from the fighter he had just saved, and turned back to the battle, seeking more targets.
One of the many woman candidates, Unia Mellie, was in trouble. She was a blonde humanoid, and a Velltran, a race that was fast disappearing from the galaxy. They were all women who had been forced to extend their lives by any means possible since all of their planets males perished in a plague that left the women infertile. Her race had spent the last eight hundred years perfecting means of slowing aging to a standstill, and was focused on doing anything to find a cure. She was young by her race's standards, having been one of the last children born before the plague hit. She felt that she was always being left out of things because of her youth and inexperience, so she was always seeking to prove herself, without factoring in the danger. She had charged right into the middle of a full squadron of enemy fighters, adn was dogfighting them desperately. She had taken heavy damage, her hull was giving and her shields were out. She realized that she had no chance of surviving, and decided that she would take out as many of the enemy as possible. She flew right into the deepest part of the enemy swarm, and detonated all of her remaining warheads, destroying her craft and taking out several of the enemy's in the process. Her cockpit lights flashed, and then it opened, and she was back in the training simulator room.
The cadets were losing. They were outfighting the enemy in many cases, but they were unorganized, with each flight group fighting on its own, without any kind of coordination between them. Many of the pilots were hotshots, not wanting to work with anyone, and just wanting to get their kill scores up. They were the easiest ones to kill, as the Killjoy simply overwhelmed them with superior numbers of fighters. As the fight went on, the few remaining pilots began to band together, forming squadrons, and coordinating their efforts at fighting off the Killjoy. Working together, they were able to get more kills and save more lives than they had at the beginning with larger numbers, and eventually the Killjoy retreated. About 20% of the pilots "survived" their simulator ordeal.
Ravage looked upon the assembled pilots as they ambled into the debriefing room. He was very unhappy. "I must congratulate you all on superb flying, and superb idiocy. Your scores are very simple, and I will tell you them now. You all failed this exercise!" Ignoring the cries of outrage, he continued, "The purpose of this exercise was not only to test your flying ability in a tough tactical situation, but to see how well you worked together. The thing that stands between you and death is your squadmates, and by running off to engage the enemy on your own is as good as self destructing. The few of you that actually did work together are the ones that did the right thing. The group that coordinates and leads itself better is the one that will win any engagement, no matter what the odds. Your squadron is only as good as the worst pilot in it. Muse on that. Dismissed." And with that he left the room, leaving the pilots to mull over what he had just said.
Unaminously they cried, "WE NEED BLUNDERZOID POWER NOW!!!" And the Zoids came. And Angel Grove was witness to the strangest set of Zoids to ever walk upon its surface. Bulk leapt up high into the sky onto his floating hamburger. A very large slobbering, robotic dog with an idiotic look on its face awaited Skull. Poindexter leapt up into a robot that looked suspiciously like Albert Einstein. Bretta hopped up into a gigantic boxer, with massive gloves on its hands. Greenies is a little hard to describe. It was just a giant geek. They all tripped over buildings, cars, and whatever else happened to be in the way.
As they approached the monster, from out of nowhere a loud clang was heard, and a voice announced from the sky, "Lets get ready to FUMBLE!"
The Albertzoid whacked the dragon on the head with a gigantic textbook marked, "Theory of Painativity." The Dogazoid jumped up and slobbered all over the dragon, shorting out many circuits. The Geekazoid sang annoying songs, shorting out the dragons audio and visual sensors. The Burgerzoid fired its ketchup and mustard cannons. And Boxerzoid did its Battering Blaster Bam Knockout Slam Punch, knocking the dragon silly. The Blunder Rangers, to finish it off, decided to go into Blunder Megazoid mode.
Corny theme music started playing. All of Angel Grove heard it and was immediately wondering where that awful music was coming from. The Albertzoid became the torso. the Boxerzoid folded up into itself and split to become the arms, massive machines of pain. The Dogazoid and the Geekazoid became the legs. And Bulk approached the flying conglomeration of parts, and announced, "And I'll be the Head thingamajigger!" His Burgerzoid floated down and linked up with the body, becoming the head. The Rangers all shot out of their zoids and up into the head, which was also the cockpit. "Lets finish it off while its down!" Bulk commanded.
"But Bulkie, according to my book of good guy rules, we can't hit him while he's down like that," Skull challenged. Bulk looked crestfallen.
Then a plan that could only occur to a nitwit occurred to him. "Then we'll pick him up and THEN destroy him!" Bulk sang gleefully.
Skull looked confused for a second, and then joy blossomed under his helmet. "Great idea Bulkie! Lets do it!" The Blunder Megazoid walked up to the dazed dragon, picked him up, and then did its Power Owwer Punch finishing move. The ensuing explosion lit up the sky for miles around.
With a click, the beacon started transmitting over an undetectable subspace frequency. The shadow nodded, and then continued lower into the depths of the ship. Before he had gone far, he felt a presence of immense evil behind him. The shadow whirled around but it was too late. He felt the energy slam into him, and the Phantom Ranger fell to the floor. His last thoughts were hoping that others would come and succeed where he had failed, as his vision grew dark.
END PART ONE OF END GAME
Well, what do you think? Any suggestions for part two, which will be
forthcoming when I get the time to do it. Hope you enjoyed the show