Power Rangers. For as long as we have known them, in their many incarnations, they have been symbols of truth and justice, our guardians and defenders. For a time, it seemed as though it would always be so, but in the year 2012, we were taught a harsh lesson in reality. We were shown that courage was a strength as breakable as any other, and that even the Rangers were not exempt.<br/><br/>Niberu came, great and dark, it's surface blotting out our sky. The dull black planet was almost devoid of life, only faded lines of lights showing what used to be the cities that sprawled over it's entire surface. Massive chunks were missing from it, skeletal frame showing against the backdrop of our sky, which was soon filled with floating debris and junk.<br/><br/>It's inhabitants descended on us, and we were completely unprepared for it. One by one, the Road Force Ranger's fell, until only Red remained. His final act was to spread his fallen comrades Power Coins where the invaders would not find them. In the last days of the take over, he fell, and The Niberian's took from his body the Coins of Blue, Red, and Yellow.<br/><br/>We were easily broken after that. With each successive generation of the meagre population, it was harder and harder to remember a time when the sky showed stars at night and when we didn't fear to walk our own streets, streets that now lay in ruins. We now huddled in fear and submission among the wreckage of our past, and as our oldest died one by one, with them went our memories, and our hope.<br/><br/>Gradually, the great black planet began to change, it's inner works showing themselves against the red mist of the debris field, the cracks of light dimming more each year, and the flakes and chunks of black that drifted becoming thicker. The N-Bot's that had suppressed us for so long began to grow weak, as if they too were falling apart along with their ancient home... but that too soon changed.<br/><br/>Strengthened, the weaponry and lights of the N-Bots became a bright orange, and to those that could remember the Road Force, it was subtle in it's familiarity, yet tainted. The Yellow Coin had been adapted, and now, the Niberian's ground forces were powered by The Morphing Grid. Men disappeared, and all thought it was another call for slaves in the mines or on Niberius, but they returned, changed, their eyes blazing with orange light, voices a deep, altered parody of their old ones. They showed cruelty to us and lead the N-Bots. The drug N-Gauge that ran through their systems cut out all need of rest or food, turning them into strong and sadistic freaks.<br/><br/>In the time of our occupation, we have grown to hate and fear our own as much as the Niberians.<br/><br/>I watched all of this from the safety of my stasis pod, and yet I did not see... not until the nagging in my mind forced me to pay attention, and in my sluggishness, I still did not quite understand. I remembered talk of the Red Coin, and the difficulties it was giving our scientists, as if it defied us even in it's Rangers death. The Blue Coin came in whispered conversations, as if it too unnerved us, though the feeling was quite different.<br/><br/>And now I come to the beginning of my story... the rogue elements of our new world, young revolutionaries with the remaining Coins, had finally been captured, one by one, and were being moved via a heavily guarded convoy through the skeletal streets of Time Square... with the two prisoners and their captured Coins, the final and most troublesome of them, Red, was also being moved, set into a Morpher of our own design... it would never make it to the testing grounds.<br/><br/><br/>Times Square, 2081.<br/><br/>The armoured caravan jostled along the broken road, the skeletal buildings that leaned upon each other silent, the black frames of Taxi's and old buses laying flipped and crunched against the pavement and store openings. The occasional shadow darted in the corner of ones eye, no doubt someone who didn't wish trouble from the cargo's protectors.<br/><br/>Flanking the heavy vehicle was 30 N-Bots. Sleek and short, their bodies were black, lean and silver joints sparking occasionally with orange pops of light, hairline markings ringing the wrists and ankles, glowing dull and weak. A rectangular mask of heavy metal covered each face, like a welders visor bolted into the temples. The only detail on the visorless face was a long streak of orange tracing down from top to bottom, crossed twice at the top, and one more at the bottom.<br/><br/>They clicked and hiss, heads jerking from side to side in the twitchy fashion of birds, slightly hunched over, the batons they carried glowing a feint orange at the end. The markings in their masks would flare brightly now and again.<br/><br/>Shadowy shapes followed the convoy, slinking along the sides of buildings like stalking geckos, dashing a few paces and stopping.<br/><br/>At the head of the convoy was a human, shoulders broad and thick, naked chest sticking out with well defined muscles. The veins in his neck pulsed with orange light, eyes glowing dimly. He scanned the buildings, massive fists clenching, the knuckles popping loudly. Something didn't feel right...