Two blocks away from Pioneer Courthouse Square, a mother is terrified out of her mind. From policeman to policeman she flits, anxiously asking if anyone, anyone has seen her daughter. She gives everything she has not to give into panic, but she fears the worst. Eventually, she runs out of things to do and see from behind the barricade. Her mind set, she strides past the “safe zone” markers, pressing towards the park where the sounds of explosions are faintly audible.

Every three or four seconds, another detonation sounds off, kicking up a wave of force that rustles her hair. She can scarcely even understand what happened, all she knows is that one moment she was walking in the park with her daughter and the next she was caught in a panicked crowd fleeing god-only-knows-what.

When she’s half a block away, she can clearly make the figures out, apparently locked in hand-to-hand combat in the middle of the park. Incredibly, it appears these people, clad in brightly colored outfits, are the source of the shockwaves – each time one punches or kicks the other, the sound of a tiny thunderclap rings out for a block on either side. Is this some kind of performance art? Then surely people wouldn’t have evacuated…

She’s about to creep closer when a hand taps her on the shoulder, prompting her to shriek as she spins around, jumping nearly a foot into the air. “Whoops. Sorry, ma’am. Just didn’t want you to go any closer, y’know?” The person behind her is young, Indian, seems genuinely apologetic – and clinging to them, tiny hand wrapped around their cast, is her pride and joy.

“Oh, I…” Almost immediately, the mother falls to her knees, wrapping her arms around her darling Ava. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re okay. Are you safe? Thank you. You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

Ava answers first, shaking her head. “I got to see Sky Horizon fighting a bad guy!” Almost immediately, everything clicks into place. It is performance art, a high-octane stunt promoting something or other of her daughter’s favorite superhero. “It was scary but cool.”

The mystery rescuer laughs at that. “I’ll bet, yeah. It’s super cool, but dangerous, too, so I’m trying to make sure nobody gets hurt.” Out of nowhere, they produce a plastic water bottle, handing it to Ava’s mother. “Take good care of yourselves, ‘kay? Stick together and all that jazz.”

The mother is immediately reaching for her purse, asking if there’s anything she can do to thank the savior, but almost immediately they turn and leave, trotting back toward the frenzy with seemingly not a care in the world.

“There’s no way what you say can be true,” Marco reasons aloud, half-crazed, “because no matter what, the greater good is the greatest you can get, and I’m aiming to fulfill that greater good.” Skye just shakes her head as she backs away from his sword. He’s just close enough to seeing it that it becomes frustrating that he can’t. Still, if she had to choose between explaining why he’s wrong or taking away his ability to cause harm, Skye would always aim for the latter.

To that end, she watches carefully and waits for an opening, careful to stay well away from Marco’s blade. Finally, he overextends into a thrust, giving Skye time to reach for the Skyline and pop off a grip with a magnetic click. At the press of another button, her own weapon extends, a thermite-coated rod with a swordlike hilt and blunt edge. Immediately, the temperature in the area rises by several degrees, even through the insulation of Skye’s armor.

Upon seeing her sword, Marco cackles in glee, immediately stepping in to swash and buckle. Yet again, Skye realizes, his lack of experience is betraying him – both combatants are swinging at the enemy’s weapon rather than their body, causing the fight to produce a lot of sparks and dramatic clashes but little else of value. In her case, though, it’s intentional.

“I’ll say it again – reexamine your biases.” Skye speaks calmly in between parries and ripostes. “Have you considered the possibility you’ve fallen into a rut, and are using the sunk cost fallacy to justify staying the course?”

“Same to you, bud!” Marco wraps a second hand around the sword for a swing, forcing Skye back easily. “What’s it gonna take to get you to reconsider, huh?”

Now’s the perfect time to lay her trap. “All I’m saying is, I don’t think ‘the greater good’ typically involves for-profit weapons development.” Her unctuous tone comes through flawlessly despite her suit’s vocoder, smooth and aggravating, and she fakes a stumble, lifting her weapon.

Marco guffaws openly at that, slamming his blade against Skye’s immediately. Skye holds him back, and their blades lock against one another. “Hate to break it to you, Oliver, but have you had a hard look at yourself in the mirror lately?” As he talks, he forces Skye back step by step, their locked swords spitting sparks with every tiny motion. “You made yourself a weapon of your own.” The edge of his saber slides along Skye’s sword, until they’re locked at the hilt, each of their blades millimeters from brushing against the other person’s knuckles.

Skye groans exaggeratedly, pushing back head-on against Marco’s superior strength. “First of all… stop calling me that. Second of all… I didn’t make this. It’s a gift from a friend. And third,” she says, activating her knee thrusters and leaping back, sending Marco stumbling, “This isn’t a weapon – it’s a tool with a very, very specific purpose.” With a click, the blade withdraws, letting Skye clip it onto her belt once more. “Have you ever heard of thermite welding?”

“No. What the hell does it matter?” While their swords were locked, Marco had needed to adjust his grip. He tries to reset his hand’s position on the blade now, but all that comes is a dull clicking from his suit’s finger joints. “What-” His sword rattles uselessly, held loosely at an awkward angle in his twisted grip. “Did you do this?”

“I had help, but yes.” Skye takes the initiative, leaping in and kicking Marco in the chest. “You see, I happened to realize that the version of my suit you stole had a rather serious design flaw – and that overclocking the suit using Boost, especially permanently as you do, would strain it even further.” Skye steps out of reach of Marco’s clumsy swing before landing another blow. “From there, it was simple enough to make a tool that could weld the joints shut, and even simpler to bait you into falling for it.” Skye pumps her fists up and down, unable to contain her excitement. “I had a hard look in the mirror, and I figured things out.”

Marco just growls. “This doesn’t even matter. I’ll just…” He reaches for the button to dismiss his sword back into thin air, but realizes with some consternation that the button is on his left wrist – while his right hand is uselessly occupied with a bad grip on a double-edged sword.

As he fumbles, Skye sweeps his legs out from under him, approaching confidently but carefully. “We don’t have to keep doing this, Marco. Are you prepared to give up yet?”

“A hero never gives up.” Marco flails to his feet, swinging madly at Skye.

“Alright, lemme give it a try.” Kit strains with all their might against the fallen support beam, knocked over in the haste to evacuate. “Whoof, okay, that’s no dice. At least I didn’t make things worse, right?”

“No… no, it’s not worse.” The middle aged man trapped under the beam seems more morose about property damage than his predicament. As far as Kit cares, that’s a good thing, since that probably means his life isn’t in danger yet.

“Alright, well, I promise I’m gonna get you out of there, okay?” Kit looks around for anything useful. “Man, this would be so much easier if I had two working arms.” Spotting a PVC pipe, Kit grabs it and wedges it under the support beam as a lever. “Alright, is that stabbing you?”

“No?”

“Perfect! Let’s try…” Kit puts their weight on the pipe to try and lift the beam– it budges, just barely, but it’s still resting square atop the restaurant owner. “This has got to work, just a little more…”

“Could we help?” A voice from behind asks, and Kit nearly falls over. Without waiting for an answer, four more hands grab onto the pipe, levering the beam off the no-longer-trapped man. Immediately, he stands, rushing back into his restaurant with a hurried “Thanks so much!”

“Well, that was nice.” Kit muses, staring into the building with hands on their hips. “I owe you guys a thanks-” They trail off, flabbergasted. Directly in front of them, Constantine and Nigel smile sheepishly. Just a few steps past them sits a still-running truck, Bianca pointedly avoiding eye contact. “Wait, seriously?!”

“Serious as can be,” Constantine says warmly. “We never exactly resigned, and our job contracts say to give Omni a good name. If you ask me, that’s better served by actually helping people – or by helping the people that help people. If the boss has an issue with that…”

“He can shove it.” Nigel jerks a thumb towards the truck. “Need a lift?”

After a few moments’ laughter and a pair of friendly fist-bumps, Kit sidles into the truck, careful to watch their cast. Constantine slides in alongside them, and Nigel, being the tallest, takes shotgun.

“Let me be crystal clear,” Bianca grumbles as they pull out into the street, the sounds of swords clashing audible from the park, “The only reason I’m doing this is out of respect for Sky Horizon’s strength.”

“Is that right? No way, me too!” Kit chortles. “I guess she just has that effect on people.” As they make light conversation with the others on the way to the next person in need, Kit can’t stop smiling to themself. They’re turning out a whole lot better than they expected at the small-time hero gig. Who knows? Maybe Sky Horizon could use some permanent backup, once all this is done.

Marco groans as Skye knocks him back with a jet-boosted kick. At last, his suit is starting to flicker – only a few more clean hits and it’ll give up the ghost. Skye steps into his reach and lands another blow, careful not to be more violent than is necessary. It’s a slippery slope she doesn’t want to get involved with, at this point.

“This is impossible,” Marco sputters, before realizing ‘this is impossible’ is typically the sort of phrase reserved for a cornered villain. “You won’t stop me, not now or ever. My dream will be realized no matter what you throw at me.” From his prone position, he lashes out with a kick.

“Your dream is selling out to Raytheon,” Skye retorts, bringing her elbow down on his shin. “Stop acting as though this is some grand destined showdown. I simply want this over and settled with as little collateral damage as possible.”

Marco scoffs. “This is destined. Our fates were intertwined from the moment you created this machinery – from the moment I salvaged it and brought it into the light!” As best Skye can tell, he’s just spouting generic platitudes and hoping the universe punctuates his speech with a stroke of luck. “Every blow you land on me, I’ll return a hundredfold!” Staggering to his feet, he charges headlong at Skye. “You’re finished!”

Skye, wordlessly, catches him as he charges, using his momentum to flip him onto his back in one smooth motion. The impact knocks the wind out of his lungs, but more importantly it’s the last nail in his suit’s coffin, forcing it to dissipate in a scarlet shimmer. “This isn’t a game I care to play,” Skye says, and is shocked to realize she means it. “I’ve lost track of what we’re even fighting over, at this point. Quorium? Pride?”

Marco grimaces, dusting off his suit as he forces himself back to his feet. “We’re fighting over what it means to make a better world. I won’t let all of our efforts be in vain! And I especially don’t intend to lose to some basement dweller with delusions of grandeur.”

Skye just sighs. “Marco, it’s over. We’re done. Would you be so kind as to do me a favor and come quietly?”

Marco laughs maniacally, pressing at his changer. “Oh, we’re just getting started, Oliver. Don’t you know what happens when a Super Sentai has to fight a real threat?”

“That’s not my name.” Skye steps back cautiously. “Your changer is overtaxed already. It’s not safe to take it any further.”

“That’s what you think!” Marco pops out the spent Quorium and slips it into his suit pocket, exchanging it with a near-fist-sized hunk of the precious mineral. Where could he even have gotten that? Was he pressing all of his other samples together to make this massive piece? “But, hey. I owe you a huge thanks for helping with our research.”

“Marco, I’m serious.” Skye looks up at the darkening clouds overhead. If a storm breaks out, the increased air pressure would suddenly make their Quorium a whole lot more volatile. “I really don’t foresee this ending well.”

“Yeah, for you.” Marco laughs again. “See, thanks to you, we started testing just how drastically a changer could alter your body. So with enough of a power source…”

Skye puts two and two together, stepping back a bit further. “Sentai only bring out their giant robots to fight an equally giant foe, you’re being wasteful and reckless for the sake of spite.”

“As if you’re not, part-timer.” Finally wedging the massive sample into his changer, Marco claps it shut. “Hope you’re ready for the show of a lifetime. Omni On!” Immediately, Marco’s body bursts into light, the mass growing larger and larger faster than the metallic shell can cover it. He lifts gently off the ground, arms and legs forming into gigantic, boxy shapes.

Careful not to take her eyes off of Marco, Skye lifts a hand to her ear, clicking on her transceiver. “Alice? Have you and Kit been able to evacuate everyone safely?”

She’s met with a completely different voice.

“Ah, perfect,” Pamela intones. “I’m in.”

The words are followed by a slight fizz before the nails-on-chalkboard tone of the jammer returns, cutting through Skye’s brain from over the airwaves. If anything, it’s worse than before – without a direct source, the feeling of her head being crushed and limbs being stretched comes from within the suit itself. Her brain flares helplessly, nerves screaming that her skin is at once being pinched inward and ripped apart. Skye is faintly aware of the feeling of dropping to her knees, clutching at her helmet with one gloved hand.

“Ugh, this is…” Marco’s voice reverberates from high above her. “This is amazing! I think. Is it supposed to hurt my back this much?” Skye glances up through blurry vision – though mercifully not buildingsize, Marco’s new “suit” is indeed a giant mech, some ten or fifteen feet tall. No wonder he’s achy – transforming to a scale like that, so different from his normal form, must be playing havoc on his mind. “But I’m ready to end this, Oliver.”

“Not… my… name.” Skye forces the words between heavy gasps, her breathing becoming irregular. All the while, she’s viciously aware of the simulated sensation of her lungs boiling. “How… why…” It’s as though the world and her body are spinning in opposite directions.

“Why?” Skye can barely hear a voice in her head through the screeching signal – Pamela. “Because I’ve grown bored of this back-and-forth. You two had your fun, it’s time to wrap this up. My only regret is that I couldn’t be the one to end this in person.”

Skye feels as though her mouth is dry, as though she’s about to throw up, as though she’ll never feel normal again. “You… can’t.” That just earns her harsh, mocking laughter echoing in her ears.

“Alright – alright. I think I’ve got this.” Marco finds his footing, towering over her. “We’re one and one, Sky Horizon – time for the tiebreaker.” He stomps in her direction, landing hard enough that Skye can feel the bricks shaking under her. It just makes her even queasier. “Omni Robo, comin’ atcha!” He pulls his foot back, drives it forward, and…

Skye feels the impact, and then after a second of blackness becomes aware of the sensation of water on her suit. She’s still in her suit. Still being ripped to shreds by the jamming noise, with barely even the strength to curl into a ball at this point. There’s water from both sides – rain on her front. Though her suit is still holding on, her nerves are insistent that chunks of her flesh are tearing off and flowing away. She’s on her back in a fountain, maybe. That mental calculation provides a momentary distraction from the nauseating headache, but it drains her energy even further.

She needs to take her helmet off so she can breathe. She needs to keep her helmet on so she doesn’t puke. She can see herself from the outside, refracted from countless angles into something that cannot survive. She’s barely aware of rolling onto her side to try and block out the pain, barely aware of Pamela’s taunting laughter in her ears as her own mind and body gnash and scrape against each other.

Surely there was something more she could have done. Some inspirational way she could have avoided this. Something she missed, something she didn’t say. It doesn’t matter now. It’s just noise. She needs to learn to be less hard on herself.

Sky Horizon closes her eyes and lets herself go.

Spoiler

Sophibeans

Thank you as always for reading! I won't get many more chances to say that, so I want to emphasize it.

Next time, the battle reaches its conclusion and everyone must figure out where their lives will go next. See you there for the final episode.

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