Strike From The Darkness Aftermath
by Shadow RangerDisclaimer: I do not own Power Rangers. All characters unless stated belong to the copyright holder. This is a fan work and no profit has been made from it.
Author's Note: This is the next Story in the CONQUEST OF EVIL - DARKNESS UNLEASHED - MINION OF DARKNESS storyline.
Strike From The Darkness Aftermath
"How dare you?!" he bellowed, sword raised high, its blade shimmering with a violent, unstable light. "I had them beaten. My strategy was flawless. Perfect. Your interference cost me my victory!"
He brought the sword down in a brutal arc, pouring every shred of his fury into the strike. The weapon answered, growing heavier, sharper, humming with destructive intent.
Drakkon barely shifted.
He turned his body just enough for the blade to pass where his neck had been a heartbeat earlier, the sword slamming into the ground and sending a shockwave rippling outward. Stone cracked. Energy flared.
Harbinger wrenched the weapon free, already swinging again, his rage fuelling every blow. Each strike was powerful enough to cleave armour and bone, but that same anger robbed him of precision. His movements were broad, overcommitted, predictable.
Drakkon watched him with narrowed eyes, stepping inside the arc of another swing.
"You are ruled by your temper," Drakkon said coolly. "It blinds you."
"Spare me your lectures!" Harbinger snarled, hacking at him again. "You should have trusted me. You should have stayed out of it."
Drakkon muttered a sharp incantation under his breath, fingers flicking through a precise sequence of gestures. Green sigils flared briefly in the air before snapping shut around Harbinger's limbs.
The spell should have frozen him in place.
Instead, Harbinger growled and forced himself forward, muscles bulging as cracks spider webbed through the magical bindings.
Drakkon's eyes widened fractionally. "Impossible."
Harbinger laughed, the sound raw and unhinged. "You feel it, don't you? The power. My will. My anger. You cannot bind me when I burn like this!"
He tore free of the spell and lunged again, blade screaming through the air.
"My strategy was perfect!" Harbinger shouted. "I had the Rangers exactly where I wanted them. They were desperate. Afraid. One more move and they would have broken!"
"You were about to lose," Drakkon replied, sidestepping another strike with measured ease. "Your forces were overextended. Your clones were collapsing. You were blind to it."
"I was winning!"
"You were not," Drakkon said flatly. "And I took action."
That, finally, was enough.
Harbinger roared and surged forward with renewed ferocity. This time, his blade slipped past Drakkon's guard, grazing his armour and tearing a shallow line across his side.
Drakkon hissed in irritation and leapt back, reassessing.
"So be it," he said, his voice hardening. "If brute force is all you understand."
He thrust out his hand.
A bolt of crackling green energy slammed into Harbinger's chest, hurling him backwards across the stone. Harbinger skidded, snarling, and pushed himself up just in time for a second blast to strike his shoulder, armour buckling under the impact.
The third bolt struck his hand.
The sword clattered to the ground as Harbinger cried out, clutching his scorched fingers.
"Enough!"
The word was spoken quietly, almost gently, but it carried a weight that crushed the air itself.
Pain exploded inside Harbinger's skull. He screamed and dropped to his knees, hands clawing at his head as if he could tear the agony out by force. His thoughts shattered, replaced by searing white torment.
Drakkon crossed the distance in a heartbeat.
His fist smashed into Harbinger's face, snapping his head sideways. Another blow struck his arm, knocking it away from the fallen sword. Harbinger tried to rise, but Drakkon's next punch drove into his gut with devastating force, lifting him off the ground.
Had he been human, the fight would have ended there.
Instead, Harbinger staggered, doubled over, only for Drakkon to bring both fists down on the back of his head. The impact drove him face-first into the stone, leaving him motionless.
Silence followed.
Then the darkness itself seemed to breathe.
"YES. ENOUGH."
Dark Specter's voice filled the dimension, vast and terrible, reverberating through every shadow and fracture of reality.
"I did not spare you to fight amongst yourselves," he continued. "I gave you a task, Drakkon. You chose Harbinger to carry it out in your place."
Harbinger stirred weakly, groaning.
"His failure," Dark Specter said, "is your failure."
Drakkon straightened but said nothing.
"And you, Harbinger," Dark Specter went on, his tone dripping with contempt, "are as worthless now as you were before I allowed you into my service. I should be angered by your failure… but it is nothing more than I expected."
Harbinger forced himself upright, dropping to his knees and bowing his head.
"Dark Specter," he pleaded, "I can defeat the Power Rangers. I know I can. I have the strategy. I have seen the paths to victory."
Drakkon turned slightly, watching him with open disdain.
"I can still win," Harbinger continued desperately. "So long as I am allowed to do so. Punish Drakkon, not me. He interfered. He undermined my plan."
Silence followed, heavy and oppressive.
Dark Specter considered.
At last, his decision came.
"You told me that he would be able to perform this task, Drakkon. You assured me that he would be able to carry it out while you dealt with securing your reality. I allowed you to assign him this task, and I expected you to step back and allow him to complete it. He failed, but he has a point: if not for your interference, would he have succeeded?" There was a long pause. "The games and politics end now. You are both my servants and you will do as I command."
To emphasise his point, Drakkon and Minion were struck by the full force of Dark Specter's displeasure. He maintained the painful curse long enough to ensure that neither would want to face his wrath again, before releasing them.
"Return to your world, Drakkon," he rumbled. "Secure it for me. Ready your army, but do not interfere with Harbinger again. His task is no longer your concern... he is no longer your concern."
Drakkon's jaw tightened. "As you command."
"Have no fear, Drakkon, I have other tasks for you. Your usefulness and your servitude is not at an end."
Drakkon bowed deeply, though his reluctance was clear. As he straightened, his eyes flicked briefly toward Harbinger, cold and calculating.
If nothing else, being removed from Dark Specter's direct gaze would give him time. Time to plan. Time to act.
With a flash of green light, filled with flashes of black, he vanished.
Relief surged through Harbinger. He raised his head, already forming words.
"Thank you, Dark Specter," he began eagerly. "I guarantee that when you hear my next plan you will understand that you have made the correct—"
The scream tore out of him mid-sentence.
Agony engulfed his body. His skin felt as though it were burning away while his bones froze solid beneath it. He convulsed, clawing at the ground, his cries echoing uselessly into the void.
"Be silent… or be silenced," Dark Specter warned. "Do not think for a moment that I would forget that you failed me, Harbinger. Regardless of Drakkon's actions, you failed your mission: the Rangers live and now they are aware of your identity. You revealed yourself too soon and gave them the opportunity to prepare. Your words cannot erase the evidence of your incompetence... and this is the price of failure."
The pain intensified before abruptly cutting off, leaving Harbinger gasping and shaking.
"Be grateful," Dark Specter continued, "that I am willing to allow you a final opportunity."
"Yes," Harbinger grovelled, pressing his forehead to the stone. "Yes, Dark Specter. I am grateful."
"While you failed to destroy them, you did manage to injure them. That suggests that you may yet succeed if given the right incentive."
"Incentive?" Minion asked, hopeful.
"Yes, incentive," Dark Specter continued as Minion was engulfed by more pain than he had ever felt during his pitiful existence. "A personal promise from me to you: The next time you fail me will be the last time you do anything; I will crush you before you can open your mouth to plea for you life. And then... I will find a new minion to take your place."
Harbinger swallowed hard. "I understand. Thank you, Dark Specter. I will not let you down again."
He reached out, fingers closing around his sword. Flames erupted around him, swallowing his form as he vanished in a pillar of fire.
The darkness settled once more as Dark Specter considered his two servants. Minion was incompetent - that was certain, but his fear guaranteed his continued obedience for now. Drakkon was another matter; Dark Specter had no doubt that the Black Dragon was searching for ways to break free of Dark Specter, or to turn the tables on his master. And as he was now hidden away in his own reality, Drakkon probably believed that he was safe from Dark Specter's wrath. He didn't understand that Dark Specter had eyes and ears - and the means to punish treacherous Rangers- closer to Drakkon than his wayward servant could ever imagine.
Minion would succeed; he had to emerge triumphant because the only alternative was oblivion. And Drakkon... he would either complete the task he had been given or he would learn what it meant to fall out of favour with Dark Specter; in Dark Specter's mind, either outcome was acceptable. As he waited in the isolation of the Dark Dimension, the villain saw only victory as the future unfolded exactly as he intended.
END