She stumbled down a long, concrete hallway, dimly lit not by design but by the copious broken light bulbs. One hand cradled her midsection. The other scrabbled along the wall to her right. Every step she took involved a heave from this hand followed by a heavy footfall. In reality, the support of the wall did more to hold her up than her own aching feet did.

Her heartbeat echoed in her ears. It seemed to reverberate around the very walls with every pounding repetition. Blood pumped in her head, and her fingers, and her stomach, exacerbating the wound that threatened to double her over with agony. Even her own breaths, laborious and shallow, caused great discomfort against battered ribs.

Long blonde hair trailed into her green eyes, and she reflexively brushed it away with her right hand. Without the support provided by it, her knees buckled. She fell upon them, catching herself hard with both hands. The concrete, weathered with age and use, cut into her palms. The pain in her middle felt as though it quadrupled without a forearm to put pressure on it. Her chest heaved despite how much it hurt to do so.

Shaking elbows nearly gave way, and for a moment, she was tempted to let them. To slump over there and let her breaths dissipate to nothingness seemed like a welcome change from the constant suffering in her entire form. Why continue fighting when it hurt this much? Why try in the face of such reckless hatred?

But, no. She couldn't give up. That hatred was specifically why she had to continue on. The torment in her bones was nothing compared to what the world had experienced. Her companions went through far worse ordeals than she currently did, and they never gave up, so neither could she. Summoning what remained of her strength, with teeth barred against the groan deep in her throat, she stood up.

Hand against the wall, she pressed on. The door was so close. Only a few more steps. One foot in front of the other. Ignore the pain, fight through it. For everything she had lost. For everything she still had to save. Keep walking. Keep going. Not far now.

She didn't so much reach the door as she crashed against it. Having something cold, hard, and metal, to lean against felt nice. If only the trio of red lights through it's upper third weren't shining directly in her pupils. She shifted over to the right to hover just over a bulky keypad. Clumsy fingers slapped at a long broad button on the bottom of this array.

"Voice activation—" began a synthesized male voice.

"Plexippus," she blurted, shocked at how rough her voice sounded. "Come on, come on, come on," she begged of the door.

The metallic sesame slid upward, painfully slow and with a grinding whir compared to how quick and smooth it used to be. She stumbled into the lab. Without a wall to support herself on, her balance faltered almost the instant she began to move. Thankfully, the long trapezoidal center console was only a few steps away. She careened into it, thankful that it arrested her fall, but wincing at the new pain it caused in her already damaged midriff.

She slinked along the console, careful to avoid the numerous lights, buttons, dials, slots, knobs, and sliders. A sharp intake of air through her teeth was a vain attempt to assuage her bruises. Of course, the last part of her journey was also the worst. But she only had herself to blame for that one.

The trip around the console took her to its dead center. The fixture supported her entire weight. Slowly, but still quick as she could manage, she pulled from her pocket a long vial filled with a sparkly azure ooze. She held it in front of her face, giving it a swirl for good measure. It was fittingly beautiful for her last chance.

"This had better work," she begged of whoever may have been listening.

Limp hands tapped at a square button. Beneath this button, a circular slot opened up. She pushed the vial into it. Mechanical whatnot inside grabbed the glass and pulled it, where the slot then closed it inside. A deep breath, and she pressed another button.

A terrifying few heartbeats went by where nothing happened. She felt her heart sink. Why? Why did nothing ever go the way she wanted it to? Why, just once, couldn't the universe be kind to her? As more curses entered her mind, a flash of impossibly bright blue light cleared all thoughts she could have formed. If the console hadn't been there to hold her up, the sheer surprise of it would have bowled her over.

For several seconds, all she saw was whiteness. The flash distorted her vision, and while her brain knew this blindness was temporary, the animal instincts inside her screamed of sheer panic.

"Ow, my head," complained a man in a thick Scottish accent. Behind the console, she smiled.

"What happened, where am I?" Asked a female voice.

"Who are you?" Replied a second male voice, an American man.

"Who are you?" The new woman fired back.

"Riveting conversation, both of you," snarked the Scottish man.

"Well, I don't see you trying to help," the woman said.

"Calm down, both of you. Let's try to figure this out," the American suggested.

"Oh, so you're in charge, are you?" Challenged the Scottish man.

The woman behind the console blinked her eyes rapidly, willing her vision to clear. When it did, she beheld hope. Three people who were not there before now lay on the floor of her lab. On the left was a handsome young man with his dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and brown eyes in his long face. A green t-shirt clad his toned chest, while ripped jeans covered his legs.

In the middle, and in stark contrast, was a woman in a dark grey military uniform with wide yellow stripes on the sleeves and slacks. Her shoulder-length brown hair was just a bit messy around matching eyes, full cheeks, and a strong jaw.

Finally, to her right a broad shouldered Scottish man lay on his back. He had dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and a cleft chin. His outfit consisted of an open leather jacket, blue polo, and khaki cargo pants.

From behind her console, she spoke up. "Don't worry, you're among friends. I can answer any questions you have."

"Oh, didn't even see you there," said the Scottish man. He sat up and turned to her "Mind telling us what's going on?"

She took a deep breath, and began. "My name is Fae Lockart. You three are Tommy Oliver, Elizabeth Delgado, and Flynn McAllistair. I brought you all here because... because I need your help."

"Tommy Oliver?" Elizabeth, now sitting on her knees, shot a gaze to the man in question. "You mean, the Tommy Oliver? I learned about you in Ranger History class!"

"In what?" Tommy sat up. "Wait, you know who I am?"

"I think everyone does," Flynn said. "You're kind of a big deal, even where I'm from."

"And just where are you from?" Tommy asked.

"Not sure that matters, seeing as I'm not there anymore," Flynn directed that last bit at Fae.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," she deflected. "I know none of you asked for this, and I'm sorry, but I need your help."

"You already said that," mentioned Elizabeth. "What is this place? What's going on?"

"I think when would be a better question," Fae corrected her. "The current year is 2600."

"Whoa..." Flynn breathed.

"Time travel?" Elizabeth said.

"More like a dimensional portal, but yes, time travel." Fae nodded. "As I already said, my name is Fae Lockart. In this timeline, I am the last remaining Power Ranger."

The atmosphere in the room became even more serious, if that was possible. Fae watched the expressions no all three people in front of her drop as the sudden gravity of the situation sunk in for them. They seemed to realize this wasn't a field trip, and that they were now sucked into a world in the middle of a terrible crisis.

"The last Ranger?" Flynn echoed.

"What happened? Tell us everything," Tommy demanded.

In stark contrast to her previous objections, Elizabeth had no problem with Tommy now taking the lead. With the three of them giving her their undivided attention, Fae began to explain.

"We were called the Exo-Rangers, short for exoskeleton. I was the fourth in command, the Yellow Ranger. There used to be six of us but my friends..." she winced in pain and tried to hide it as emotional, not physical. "They were destroyed by an evil alchemist named Avanth."

"All five of them? He must be strong," Flynn said with raised eyebrows. Elizabeth gave him a disapproving glare.

"That's the thing, he isn't. Or, at least, he wasn't," Fae denied. "Using his alchemy, Avanth designed a concoction, a sort of poison, to sap power from the Morphin' Grid and absorb it into his own body. I'll be honest, I don't really understand how that works. Regardless, it gave him immense power, and left us with very little. There was nothing we could do to stop neither him, nor the monsters he created. One by one, he cut us down, until it was only me."

"Fae," Elizabeth breathed. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not—" A pang of suffering cut Fae off. She winced and collapsed, again saved by the console. This time, she couldn't mask it. The three newcomers shouted and jumped to their feet, approaching her with concerned urgency. Fae heaved an internal sigh. So much for that air of power and wisdom she'd wanted to project.

"You're hurt," Tommy pointed out the obvious.

"Yeah." Fae lowered herself to a sitting position back-to the console. "I had to steal a potion from Avanth in order to power the dimensional portal. It wasn't exactly easy without the ability to morph."

"You can't morph?" Flynn asked.

"No, not anymore." Fae removed the bulky Morpher from her left wrist and slid it to Tommy, who picked it up.

"A beetle?" He said.

Fae nodded. "We were insect-themed. The damage to the Grid is so extensive that our Morphers don't work anymore. There just isn't enough power."

"So that's why you need us, then? Since we're not from this time, our Morphers will still work, right?" Flynn proposed a theory.

"I'm sorry, but no. Your Morphers won't work either." Fae shot him down. "Try it, if you don't believe me."

"Alright, then." Flynn dug a cellphone from his pocket. Inside a flip-dwon compartment in the bottom he placed a thick grey chip of some sort, and then closed it back up. Phone in his right hand, he crossed it diagonally across his body.

"RPM!" He swung both hands around to his right and pressed a button on the phone. "Get in gear!" He thrust the phone forward. Nothing but silence greeted him as he stood there unchanged, still in his leather jacket.

"That settles that, then," Elizabeth said with a cock of her head.

"It didn't even explode," Flynn said while looking at the ground behind himself. "There's usually a little explosion, right there." He lowered his arms.

"The Grid doesn't have enough power to support a conventional Morpher, just like I said," Fae reiterated.

"What do you want us to do, then?" Elizabeth said. "If Avanth did this to you, and you're a Ranger, then what good can we do without Morphers?"

"We only have one shot left. You have to find the Mythos Morphers. They're the only ones old and powerful enough to still have a connection to the Grid," Fae explained.

"Okay, where are they?" Tommy said.

"Hold on, man, I don't know about all of this. It sounds like a lot," Flynn argued, and then looked at Fae. "I mean, I know your time has problems, but so does mine. I want to help you, and I understand you don't have many options, but I have responsibilities back home."

"I can teleport you back to the exact moment you left. It'll be like you were never gone at all. Please, Flynn. I need you. The world needs you." Fae never wanted to beg. It went against every value she held dear as both a person, and a Yellow Ranger. Yet, faced with no other choice, she practically grovelled at the feet of Flynn McAllistair.

He hesitated for an awful few seconds, but then put his hands on his hips and sighed. "Well, when you put it like that..."

"Thank you." Fae turned her gaze to Elizabeth, who gave her a nod. "And you, Elizabeth. Thank you."

"It's Z. Call me Z," said Elizabeth.

"Okay, Z," Fae returned with a smile.

"The Mythos Morphers. Where can we find them?" Ever the leader, Tommy brought them all back on track.

"Well, that's the bad news. They're scattered all over Europe. Thankfully for us, there's one right here in London," Fae said.

"London? Oh, you do have an accent. I didn't even notice," Z observed.

"It's good that there's a Morpher nearby, at least. Do you know exactly where it is?" Tommy prompted.

"Yeah, I was able to locate them with this lab's computer. I uploaded a map to the Land Rover, right through there." Fae pointed to a big open door in the west wall, directly across from the entrance.

"Come on, let's take a look." Tommy gave Flynn a clap on the shoulder before the two of them took off for the garage.

Z spared a gentle glance to Fae before jogging off to join them. For her own part, Fae put on hand up on the console and slowly hauled herself onto her feet. She'd just managed to stand fully back up when she heard Flynn's voice echo from the garage.

"Land Rover? This is an airplane, there's nothing land about it."

"I think it's the brand, Flynn. Do they not have Land Rovers in your time?" Tommy asked.

"They do, but not like this," denied Flynn.

"Tommy's right, it's the brand." Fae called as she approached the garage. "And it's not an airplane, it's a flying car."

"I thought that's what it was," said Z. "Thought, it's a lot more advanced than the prototypes from my time."

Fae reached the garage, which allowed her to lean on the door jam. The vehicle they were all talking about was a Land Rover Nimbus P9000 painted in British racing green. It had a long front grille with the brand spelled out in widely spaced letters. Where they normally would have been wheels, the vehicle instead sported four wings, each with a small jet engine close to the body. The windshield was sleek with a sharp domed curve allowing just enough headroom for a reasonably tall man. It had two doors, seats for five, and the toughest mechanics on the market.

"Flying car, eh? I'd love to get a peek under her hood," Flynn said.

"Something tells me you'll have the chance sooner, rather than later," Fae joked.

"Should you be on your feet?" Z asked her.

"I'll be fine." Fae physically batted the idea away. "Believe it or not, I've had worse."

"I'm sure you have," Z said. As a Yellow Ranger herself, she most assuredly did know the kind of trouble their ilk could get into.

Fae nodded. "It's unlocked. Keys are on the dashboard. Just hit the big blue button that says nav and the map will pop right up."

Tommy took the initiative, because of course he did. He opened up what he thought was the driver's side, and in doing so betrayed that he'd never been to the United Kingdom before. He paused in obvious confusion as he found not a steering wheel, but the passenger's seat.

"Other side, genius," Flynn said. "We drive on the right, in this part of the world." He opened up the correct driver's side door.

"But the double lines are on the left. Why would you... never mind." Tommy seemed to decide they had bigger problems to worry about.

Flynn sat down, inserted the key, and turned it. Since he didn't activate the afterburners, the only sound the flying car made was that of its electric battery whirring to life. He looked at the center unit for a moment before locating the appropriate button. Upon pressing it, a map made up of a blue hologram with white grid lines projected from a little lens in the center of the dash. It showed the entire continent of Europe, including all of Russia. On it flashed five red dots.

"I assume those are the Morphers," Flynn said, pointing at one of the dots.

"Yes, and the green dot is the car," confirmed Fae. "As you can see, the nearest one isn't very far at all."

"Let's get moving, then," Tommy determined. "The sooner we get rid of this Avanth guy, the sooner we can get back to our own times."

"That's the most sane thing you've said all day," joked Flynn. "Get in, you two. We're going on and adventure."

"Do you even know how to drive a flying car?" Despite Z's concerns, she got into the back seat.

"One of my teammates has a jet, and I've seen her fly. It doesn't look too difficult," Flynn reasoned.

"I hope this thing has autopilot," Tommy remarked as he got in the passenger's seat.

"Oh, what? Not you, too," Flynn said, half joking and half offended they both didn't believe in him. Whatever other conversation they were having went silent as the last door closed.

As she watched them bicker and figure out the controls to their new transportation, Fae allowed a single tear to fall down her cheeks. For the first time in years, she finally felt a twinge of warmth inside. She had a team again, not in the way she might have been used to, but still the lab was full of Rangers. With the success of her dimensional portal device, hope had returned to the world. She just had to have faith that hope would be enough to save them.