Title: Drabble - Killing You

Fandom: Power Rangers in Space

Author: newtypeshadow

Summary: For Andros, killing Astronema was as easy as breathing.

Andros POV


Killing you was as easy as breathing: a natural reaction. Blocking your thrust in a move that my instincts are programmed to remember and execute pre-command--that was easy. That was self-preservation over inhibition, muscle-memory over mind. I've used that move so many times I remember only its beginning and completion; my body moves faster than thought. My instincts run deeper than blood. How could I have known a clash of steel blocking murderous steel would reverse the energy you blasted at me in a killing blow? As I said, there was no time for thought.

Killing you is my most haunting memory, but it has opened the door for others. Every building a monster knocked down or burned, every office crushed under the foot of our Zords, carried people with families and friends who miss them even now. Their deaths are not nullified or reversed by the saving of others. When injured, I feel no lasting effects after the battle. And though new problems always arise, everything turns out all right in the end. My scare had a happy ending: there is no blood on my hands; I have my sister back, and my friends and planet are alive and well. Others have lost jobs because of destruction in the cities. Others have lost loved ones under buildings and swords of evil warriors, my sister's troops. Because I'm a Power Ranger people smile at me and turn a blind eye to my sister's past. They don't blame her, and they do not blame me for the deaths the newspapers don't report because the front pages are full of Power Ranger victories against this monster, or So And So's machine.

After every major battle I start reading the obituaries. I see the influx of names, the ages too young to die, the names surviving them. And I know that I wasn't in time to save them.

No one will blame me; I'm the Red Ranger. I've sacrificed so much, I deserve my happy ending. At least, that's what people tell me with every newspaper that tells the truth in two distinct sections: victory and death.