Disclaimer: Andrew Nelson, that being me, am in no way associated with those folks over at Saban. Although Power Rangers, etc. are property of Saban Entertainment, the 2089 idea, etc. are my own.

Power Rangers 2089
Part 1
by Andrew Nelson

He slowly stepped out of the shuttle and took a few paces forward to avoid both the people getting off behind him and the steady flow of pedestrians walking down the sidewalk. Back again, he thought to himself. He snuffed - 'I've still got some of that flu' - and raised his left wrist. 13:23:45. Plenty of time.

He joined to flow of people, most of them business types returning from lunch, headed toward the downtown. Downtown! Amazing how with so many buildings they still had a 'downtown'. It was a very...classic touch, he thought.

As he walked, he took quick glances into the glass windows on his right. Perhaps I should have worn my other suit? he thought, before realizing he only had one suit. It was plain - black pants, the basic black collarless jacket, along with his white shirt and thin red tie. It was a good thing it wasn't sunny out, or he would've boiled.

He looked up at the overhead pedestrian sign. "Angle Grove Central Park" in big glowing white holo-letters against green background. It flashed, and then read "3 Blocks --->". Blocks! Very classic.

He did as the sign instructed, trying to look like he knew exactly where he was going, when he really had no idea. He had just forgotten. Many people do that - look like, or try to rather, when they don't. He always noticed that. Everybody wants to fit in. Did he?

The streets were very busy - packed with people from left to right. Above, the cars could be heard whizzing across the sky. He saw the entrance to the park ahead of him.

There were two large brick pillars at the entrance, with black metal fence extending away from each pillar. Sloping across the opening from pillar to pillar was a large metal sign reading "Angle Grove Central Park".

"Still in metal," he remarked to himself. He paused to cough, and then proceeded through the entrance. He walked along the cement pathway, seeing the signs of the technology that could not be repressed forever.

Along the edge of the walk were standard floating lumibulbs. When it was dark, they would rise roughly three meters above the ground and illuminate the park.

What had they used to use? He stretched his mind. Ah, yes. Lampposts. How inefficient. He continued along the path until a large opening amid the large trees could be seen. It was a large grass area, with picnic tables and a basketball court. He was getting close. He remembered it well - just beyond the court. Further along, the trees began to close in again, and the path presented itself. Picking up his pace, he walked along. The trees on each side of him were dense. He wasn't sure what kind they were - he wasn't good at that sort of thing. To him, trees were trees. That was, except Christmas trees. He knew them well. But now was not the time, he thought. I don't see any Christmas trees.

He could see them now, up ahead in the clearing. He stopped as the trees parted wide. Above him to the left, right and front, he could see the large buildings towering above the trees behind them. It was another grassy spot, with several other wide trails leading to it.

He could see people walking by through the sparse foliage on the opposite side. But, he always came the long way.

He snuffed again and proceeded towards them. They were as large as he remembered. A set of three circular stone pedistles, each fifteen feet across, flat on the top, paid homage to the city's heroes. No, the world's heroes, he supposed.

Atop the first statue were six stone figures. The first, standing ahead of the rest, his stone hands placed around his belt buckle, was the White Ranger. Slightly behind and to his right, the statue's left, was the Pink Ranger, striking a similar pose. Behind her were the Blue Ranger, then the Black Ranger. On the opposite side was the Red Ranger, followed by the Yellow Ranger and then the Green Ranger.

Funny, he thought. They had never figure out where the Green Ranger went. He disappeared and then the White Ranger came along. Could they have been the same person?

No, no, no. Don't be silly!

Below the rangers a bronze plaque read : "Dedicated to the memory of the greatest heroes the world has ever know - THE MIGHTY MORPHIN POWER RANGERS"

He moved on to the next object, similar to the first, but a little larger. On it stood the mighty Power Rangers Zeo, each ranger of the five holding his or her weapon and striking an action pose. He spent little time on this one, not bothering to read the plaque. It was the next statue that interested him the most. The mysterious Gold Ranger.

Mysterious to the general population, he revised. He had only been around a very short while. At first, he remembered from watching the archive video at the museum, it appeared that the even the Zeo Rangers themselves didn't know who he was. He would materialize out of nowhere to help them. Then, he would begin to be _with_ the rangers.

That was the mystery - who he was. No. That was the mystery with all of the rangers .

Had they been aliens? Humans? But the Gold Ranger was a special case.

They figure was life-sized, as the others had been. He stood holding his staff in front of him, both hands around it. He was intimidated by it.

He looked down to read the plaque, but found that there was none. Maybe when he's gone they'll put one up, he thought to himself.

Turning on his heel, he proceeded towards the street, not as busy now. He checked his watch, finding he had spent a whole hour staring at the statues. How time flies.

As he joined the now diminished pedestrian flow, he wondered why they had never made a statue for the Power Rangers Turbo - the ones who had let the world down.

He was getting old, and he knew it. Old and tired. But, he no longer feared it, like he had the first time. But with each time, he grew more accustomed. He would need to return soon.

He heaved a great breath of air and tried to relax in his chair. He could not.

"I need a drink," he said to himself. He slowly rose from the padded arm chair and walked across the room, through the large metal sliding doors and down the corridor to his chamber.

It was divided into three sections - a bedroom, a kitchen and a living area, where he could preform his experiments. But even those now bored him. He had seen so much more, done more than this world had to offer, and wouldn't be able to for centuries. And he wasn't planning on sticking around forever. Of course, you never knew.

He walked into the kitchen, took a glass from the cabinet, walked over to the sink and said: "Water please. Drinkable temperature." The small VRS (voice recognition system) on the top of the tap quickly processed his request, and the water began to flow from the tap. As he filled his glass, he thought about the small VRS. He had made prototypes for such a thing long ago - he couldn't guess how long. But, like so many of his other inventions, hadn't 'gone to market'.

"I could have been rich," he mumbled. He felt a coldness trickle down the side of his hand. It startled him, before he realized it was mearly the water.

"That's enough, thank you." The water stopped. He wiped his hand and the glass off with a dishcloth that hung nearby. Surprisingly, he still had dish clothes. Amazing how they had held up so well.

He drank his water and placed the cup on the counter, and then returned to his chair.

He checked behind him again. Then down at his watch. Three minutes tops.

"Set it!" He hand was beginning to sweat around the lazgun. "C'mon!"

His partners watched the entrance to the vault. There were another two down in the sewer with the chips.

"Almost done..." his other partner said, not looking up from the bomb. "There. Let's go!"

"How much time did you leave us?"

"A minute fifty-seven."

He didn't say anything else. _A minute fifty-seven?_ Well, this was a madman.

"Let's move!" he yelled. The two guarding the door hustled into the vault and down jumped through the hole in the vault floor into the sewers.

The bank was still packed full of people, all lying on their stomachs, heads down. He had read about this method in an archive. How they did it in the old days.

He took one final look at the people, then jumped down the hole.

His eyes shot open. He looked directly forward, his face blank.

He could see them. Women, children. Fire. Then nothing.

After a few seconds, he stood up. He swung his fists down to his sides. They gave off streaks of gold light. He then whipped his glowing fists up and crossed them in front of him and yelled, "Gold Ranger Power!"

Perhaps he shouldn't have taken this side-trip. But it _did_ have significance in what he was there for. Well, some significance. And he was still on time.

He coughed once again, and decided to get out his handkerchief. He moved to the side of the walkway and blew his nose. Several passerbys gave him disgruntled looks, which he ignored. Isn't anyone entitled to be sick? He replaced his handkerchief and rejoined the pedestrian flow. He could now see his destination. A towering space-scarper, imposing really, that stood high above the others. Oliver Enterprises.

As he closed in on the building, he could see the entrance. There were eight fountains leading up to the doors, one on each side of the walkway. Beside the doors, which were really two sliding doors beside each other, where small trees.

He moved to the side as a man exited through on of the doors. He looked up, seeing the building.

All of it.

The hissing of the door closing drew his attention from the building. He checked his watch. Plenty of time, he thought. He decided he wouldn't be early. He didn't want to make the wrong impression. But was being early the wrong impression? Maybe they'd think he was a...what was that term? Keener? Yes, that was it. A keener. But was that good or bad? He decided not to chance it, and retreated to the nearby park that encircled the Oliver building to compose himself.

"Wh...what do we do?" asked one of the people, lying on his stomach.

"I think they're gone," another answered. Everyone in the bank slowly stood up.

One of the teller slowly walked to the vault to see what they had taken. As she surveyed the damage, her eyes came across the bomb. Her face went blank.

"Oh, God," she whispered. She came running frantically out of the bank.

"There's a bomb!" There was a silence as the people processed what they had just heard. Then, they all rushed to the door.

"It's locked!" one person yelled.

"We've got to break it down!" another replied. The teller who had discovered the bomb tried to unlock the doors on her main control panel. It didn't work. She glanced back at the bomb inside the vault. They had thirty seconds. At that moment, she felt what she guessed was seeing her life flash before her eyes. There was nothing to do.

Nothing at all.

She got down on her knees, crying, and began to pray.

"I don't wanna die!" one lady cried, dropping to her knees. The sounds of crying children filled the bank. Several men and women still tried relentlessly to break down the door, which was, truthfully, impossible.

Twenty seconds.

A golden light filled the bank. Time seemed to stand still, as people ceased pounding on the door. The crying stopped. The bank began to shake, but still no-one spoke.

Then, with a large explosion, the roof seemed to exploded as a ray of gold light zoomed into to bank. It was a figure dressed in black, with gold armor on his upper body. He wore white gloves and boots and a black helmet. In his hand he held a large staff. It was the Gold Ranger.

"Where's the bomb?" he asked.

"In there!" someone yelled. The ranger rushed over to the vault. Beside the door to the vault was a women, down on her knees.

"There's no time," she cried to him. The Gold Ranger looked at the bomb. Ten seconds. He couldn't get the people out in time. He'd have to take the bomb.

Nine seconds.

He examined the bomb, checking for a safety device that would trigger the bomb if it were moved. There was none.

Eight seconds.

His staff vanished from his hand. He reached out for the bomb.

Seven seconds.

He grasped his fingers around it, and lifted it up.

Six seconds.

He held it in his left hand, and reached out his right. His staff materialized.

Five seconds.

He held the staff above his head and began twirling it. The staff began to glow.

Four seconds.

He brought the staff down to his side, and then threw it upward.

Three seconds.

The burst of the staff broke through the vault ceiling, and the ranger flew upward.

Two seconds.

He was flying upward. Just a little...further.

One second.

He threw the bomb out into space.

Zero. "Beep-beep-beep."