Fifteen years later…

        Miles enters their Umbra Wolf Lair with two boxes of ice cream cake, one on each hand. He's come in after taking a detour into the forest road that leads to their mountains. Rarely trekked, and anyone who ends up here will find themselves at a dead-end. And the wildlife's migration and travels cover their tracks too. It's a smart way to finally get rid of those pesky explorers and mythbusters.

        He comes in wearing casual attire, greeting his father and uncle who are also in their household attires. Before Dexter, they are always wearing a spandex-like uniform that, and Miles does not mean to offend, makes them look and feel like a cult rather than an order. Chase has told him of how good an orator Dex was, convincing the Moon, their arbitrator, that self-expression can lead to more creative and hopefully efficient ways. Utilizing the wildlife and their paths was of his own design, and Chase has streamlined manufacturing their equipment as well as adding homey furniture such as tables, dining chairs, sofas, and a small open library in their central hub.

        The once-young-wolf places the box on top of the dining table, next to a glass jar full of water and a water lily resting on top of it. Miles turns to his father standing just before the large screen– ten times his height, built into the mountain. A single monitor that shows old streams and camera footage from across Western Canada where Master Org's minions have been gathering resources. Despite their composition of clay, stone, and minerals, their movements have shifted to tree bark and water as well. And, while it hasn't been verified, living matter. It's a concerning development that they're trying to find results for immediately, because it will mean a new strategy in Master Org's plans that can lead to mass civilian casualties.

        Miles can't help but exhale deeply, the thought of it becoming a thorn to his side. It's as if a headband around his head is tightening because of how he keeps coming back. His father's defeated him twice so far, him being in the second 'final' battle. But after having researched the matter, he looked different each time. Less bulky and becoming more humanoid as per the fact. Those old shows he used to watch have, apparently, been accurate up until Dexter's generation. Now he's become more nimble, donning a power suit like theirs, trying to beat them at their own game but Chase has him constantly outmatched.

        "Hey dad," he greets Dexter, still focused on the screen. Only then does he notice that they're paused at certain moments, when the putty minions are grabbing the items themselves.

        "Not now, son," Dexter says politely, waving at him without glancing back. "I think I know what they're up to." He points at the middle monitor; the putty minion is on a pond, their resemblance is becoming more human-like that it sends a disgusted shiver down their spines. The subject in the photo is hunched down, utilizing an industry bucket from a nearby mining plant to gather water. While doing so, it seems that their body, particularly their hands, have been siphoning water too. It adds to the credibility of the next generation of putty men to make themselves appear more human, starting inside. "No leakage from his body as he returns to the mining plant in Quebec. They're getting better."

        Miles stands beside his father, crossing his arms as he analyzes the other images once more. Putting into thought what his father said, it seems they're maximizing their resource gathering as an experiment. They discuss it, mostly a back and forth of confirming about what they know prior as well as this revelation.

        But Dexter points out a facet of these putty men that worries him so, "If they can manipulate water throughout their bodies, or even living matter like they do with stone, we'll have a hard time defeating them if they use their surroundings to their advantage." He gestures around, meaning the forest that their base is surrounded by, with a river coursing far north of it. "Our American counterparts are reporting a similar phenomena, and all the way as far as our Chilean friends too." With a hand gesture, his wristband glows to change the information on the screen. Now a map highlighting spots across both Americas. Plentiful sightings that are highlighted in blue against the green landscape, and far less with red indicating battles.

        Miles notes a lot of them in the Southwestern part of the US mainland. A lot of barren land, mountains, and mesas. Perfect place to establish cloning facilities. And along the southern part of South America, between the borders of Argentina and Chile. Do they have plans to reach Antarctica? He looks back up, trying to find if they are trying something similar in Northern America, and that invisible band loosens up now recognizing a possibility; there has been movement in the Nunavut region.

        "You see it too, don't you?" Dexter says, highlighting the points closest to the North and South pole. "Don't worry about the North. I've sent Alex and Rue, testing out Chase's new modifications to the uniform." He finally moves, turning to his son and hugging him, Miles hugging back too.

        "What's new?" He takes one last look at the screen before turning to his father who's going to the cake. Joining him after, relieved to have gotten him out of his trance, and with a plan to boot too.

        "I've suggested to him we add a secondary layer of protection. Kinda like wearing two layers of our outfit but solely for the environment." Dexter unstacks the boxes, his tail wagging for these cakes once again. Everyone's morale will be lifted with this, and the eventual success of the testing. "Our Power Ups," he lifts his hand, waving his wrist that has the same slim band, "Can only hold so much Nanomatter that we can't get a secondary armor. But it's been streamlined to fit our weapons, armor, and a skinsuit that can withstand extreme cold and heat." His chest puffs up with pride, a smile across his face.

        Miles looks around for Chase, he deserves a cake of his own, "Where's uncle?" His eyes lead towards the metal door built into the cavern where it goes into the armory/workshop. And he looks around again– it's just him and his father in the main room.

        "Working on something I know you'll like." His father alludes to a memory of his youth. Always using that nudge on his side whenever it's something from the old shows. Then that chuckle. Always.

Miles remembers it all. First was the actual suit, and then the motorbikes that are parked past where he came in from. And then the weapons that have more variations than just a sword. So what's left to surprise him? "Did he improve the Mega-Zord?"

        "Not yet," Dexter jokes or alludes, either of the two. "Just wait and see, son."

        "Alright," Miles doesn't ask more. And he stores the cakes in the fridge for now, not to let it melt. It's cool enough in the cave but he's used to it being a proper home. Doing so makes him think of his actual suburban home. It's still there. They've added a greenhouse in the back, and renovated the storage in the foyer to be a gym. Building it by hand is fun as it turns out. But his father may not be in the mood for small talk, "Will our next assignment have us using these enhanced suits?"

        "Of course, I'm enthusiastic about it. And can you fetch me a glass of water, please?"

        

        "Sure," Miles fetches a pitcher and heads to the nearest cupboard to fetch a glass.

Dexter sits on the corner of the table, eyeing the screen once again. "We'll be raiding one of their mining facilities soon enough." He points out, wrist buzzing to him as it shifts the display to Canada's territories. All the initial dots are gone, replaced by symbols of a minecart and a pickaxe scattered along the middle line. Isolated territories mostly, great areas for gathering rock and stone.

He pours one for his father and sets it beside him, immediately taking a drink. Miles then asks, "What's the criteria?"

Dexter clears his throat after setting the glass aside, waving off Miles' offer for another. "Largest activity, located here." The screen zooms in on a lakeside mining facility located between Northwest Territories and Nunavut. And several sub points surround it showing old and recent photos taken of the facility, as well as any news coverage and articles highlighting it. "May not look like much since the general public don't care too much about mines. It's one of the facilities that are working 24/7. That's worrisome for two things: one, they're producing an army. Two, they're using it as a front while conducting exchanges with the civilian sector. Engaging in legitimate trade."

"And what are we waiting for?"

"For their trucks to return. We attach trackers on them, and then we attack after they've left." Dexter sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's a moral dilemma because they can use this as a means to inject their influence more, but then we'd know where they're bringing it to."

And Miles knows better than to try and answer that question. He's not one to call him out either as sacrifices have been made in pursuit of a greater objective. While knowing the consequences of short-term decisions have led to missed opportunities. It still bothers him that their raid on an abandoned warehouse in Yukon has led to stopping their manufacturing, sure, but they missed out on how they did it because they acted hastily. "We'll be ready by then. And with better gear too, dad." He says gloomily.

"I know, son. I know." His father answers in the same tone. But it doesn't linger, his eyes glistening with optimism as he looks at his son. "Thanks for being with me."

Miles gives him back a warm smile, going over to hug his dad. It's not normal for Power Rangers to be related by blood, let alone interact like this. But it's taught the Great Moon that being more human can lead to better cohesion.

The armory's metal doors slide open, Chase stepping out of it with two empty coffee mugs wrung around his index finger. He looks haggardly with a shaved pencil that is now the size of his thumb resting behind his ear, and he too could use a shave. "Oh hey, Miles, welcome back."

"Hey Uncle Chase," Miles greets back.

"Look who's finally back." Dexter and Miles let go, and he gets off his table to take the mug off the panther's paws.

"I've managed to," Chase notices Miles, and knowing his father's thing for surprises. "Do the thing."

"Oh come on," Miles groans, "What's this surprise you've been alluding to?" He turns to Chase, then to his father who is cleaning his mugs out of courtesy.

"Here," Chase asks for but a moment with the raise of a finger. Goes to the cupboards to fetch three saucers and forks, then sets them on the table. "Where'd you put the cake?"

"Fridge," Miles mulls over what this surprise development will be. "So the surprise is a new set of cutlery? So we can camp out during our missions?" He jests, moving closer to them and standing before one of the seats where the saucer has been laid out.

Chase doesn't answer to that, taking one box and placing it beside his plate. He removes the tape and unfolds the thin cardboard, almost like he did all those years ago back at home. The same cookies and cream ice cream cake as always. Their favorite. As beautiful as ever even if it costs ten dollars more than before. Cold with the scent of frothy milk and the subtlety of chocolate. It's become a tradition for him to pick up a mini-cookie to then pass it to Miles who immediately eats it before taking another one. He also gives one to Dexter before getting his own too.

Miles raises his cookie, "What are we going to dedicate this cheer to?" He glances at his father and then his uncle.

"To the success of our future operations," Dexter says to them.

"To success!" Miles and Chase cheered.

"Alright son, cut the cake."

"Sure," Miles turns around to get the knives from the cupboard, wondering to himself why his father didn't get them in the first place. But he feels his father's stern paw hold his shoulder. "What?" He turns to see his father, smiling while holding his wrist up. In the middle of his wrist band, and his too, is a blinking light. An update.

"You said you wanted to know what Chase has been working on, right? You'll be the first to use it." Dexter pats the same spot.

Miles turns back around quicker and brings his Power Up to his chest. Interlinking with his mind, he mentally cycles through his equipment to find a new sword. Better yet, he notices that the data storage has lost 5% of its total usage– "A more efficient sword?"

"You know it's more than that, Miles," Chase smugly says, crossing his arms.

Miles clumps his fist but leaves enough room to make the hilt appear with a thought. The handle is light, and composed of a hybridized leather that secures it with their uniform's gloves. But there's more; accented with a specialized alloy in a golden color, and a red diamond-like pommel, the sword has a guard depicting a black and red wolf baring its fangs open; yellow eyes, silver nose, crimson-tipped ears and eyebrows, with a sturdy maroon cheek guard that locks the scabbard in place, and to the side of their Power belts. He unsheathes the sword, holding its decorated scabbard in the other hand, revealing an elegant blade. He rests its side on his arm as he inspects it; the body is made of black Lunar alloys and Crimson steel depicting a wing-like abstract artwork, with a jagged silver-colored blade that reaches from tip to sword's guard.

"The Umbral Katana," Chase moves closer, dragging his finger across the other side of the blade. "This vibrates to the sound of your howls, allowing it to cut through any material or foe. You already see the cheek guards can attach to your belt, and the hilt and scabbard are bio-coded, meaning only the three of us who have access to this can unsheath and wield it. And it's lighter than the first iteration, courtesy of the Crimson steel."

"And it matches the new uniforms we're getting too," Miles laments. But the pizazz of the moment stops, glancing at the cake then back to his father who he's expected to be more disciplined on matters such as this. "And you're alright with me cutting it with this?" Points a finger at the dessert.

"Cut it and see what happens." Dexter steps aside, and Chase too. His son expresses worry, thinking that it might be a prank.

Miles decides to trust them, lifting the blade with ease before sinking its peak into the ice cream. And how it goes through smoothly that he has to restrain himself from going down too fast. Almost like there's nothing stopping the blade that's already sunk through the stand and the cardboard, and almost sure he's buried an inch of it into the table too. And his mind twinges painlessly as information enters his system. He turns to the screen, commanding the interlink to relay what he has just received.

And all of them turned to the big monitor, showing off the ingredients of the cake he just cut, and where it is sourced from down to the very farm that produced the milk, and factory that manufactured the chocolate. Miles hangs his mouth open, a long 'wow' escaping from his lips as their needs are to be satisfied. But there's more information being added– the shop where the box is made, as well as the area of trees that the table has been sourced from. He jerks the blade away and keeps it in the air, while Dexter lifts the box as he too has been surprised by the depth of this development. And they both see the thin slice it has cut through the table.

"Sorry," Miles says to him instinctively. "But I'd rather use an actual knife now, hehe." He chuckles the guilt away, and looks to his blade that is still clean somehow. "And self-cleaning too?"

"Yep," Chase answers. "That's surprisingly the hardest part. A lot of redundancies are made to diminish materials into atoms as they are transferred into immediate analysis."

"So the blade is a de-atomizer?" Miles clarifies.

"Yes and no. Any residue that sticks to the body is what gets de-atomized, but the blade cuts through material. And of course," he gestures towards his arm, "It's interlinked so it won't de-atomize living and sentient creatures. Including our enemies; we are better than them." Both father and son nod to that information.

Miles sheathes his blade and returns it into his Power Up. "That's cool!" He hugs his uncle, and pulls his father into it too. He doesn't say anything more, and is happy to live in the moment. For a long while his child naivety had been gone, and to think that all his father's 'business trips' were actually instances of him saving the world one fight at a time. And to live like him too, following his footsteps and help him realize the world that he wants. But he doesn't think too much on it for now as his father speaks up about their cake, and that all this talk and planning has made them hungry for it.

Dexter, Miles, and Chase celebrate a cheat day for the breakthrough they've made. Helping themselves to a heaping slice of ice cream on cake batter, they engage in small talk about the new in their times now. The prevalence of social media, new more CGI-oriented Power Ranger films, both older men teasing Miles about it who now cringes and groans at the thought of it.

Miles still remembers the embarrassment after having read through the tenets and understood their purpose. In a time when his childish mind could not have comprehended the stakes and logistics that goes behind every Power Ranger operation out there. A small upgrade to their outfit, or a medium one to his sword is celebrated more than a typical movie premiere.

Chase suddenly remembers to memorialize, summoning a camera from his Power Up, a small black box with protruding lens capable of taking zoomed in photos while retaining immense clarity. He's been the one in charge of recording, and this is one for the books too. They take photos of them eating cake, and then having themselves a cup of coffee afterwards, except for himself with a glass of milk instead. Dexter asks him for moments with his son; exchanging hugs, showcasing themselves as a father-son duo where they do poses from the old series; back to back with finger guns kept close to their bodies and pointed up.

But alas, their work is never done. Evil never rests and nor should they, but they've made great strides that they know will one day pay off. Dexter's belief is shown through Miles' willingness, despite his initial dreams that he's to make this world safer for him. But now? He realizes it's better to fight with him and for him, while living like a citizen so that they may never forget what it is they are really fighting for.

And as their ideals evolve, so have their gear. There is another surprise that Chase announces to the young wolf, whose father is well aware of its development. It is an improved iteration of their elite Blood Moon Power Ranger suit. Its once red-and-silver lining is now a true Crimson and Obsidian synthesized fabric. Ten times more resilient and efficient than Dexter's uniform before, freeing up 10% more of their Power-Up's capacity.

Miles dons it midstep, on his way to their motorbikes. This uniform, accented with a gold-painted Lunar alloy that amplifies connections with all present equipment that interlinks them as appendages– extensions of themselves rather than tools. Fashion in itself has not gone unnoticed as it is matched with white gloves and gold-colored claw tips that can readjust its composition, allowing him to climb on any surface with ease. And the black boots with an empowered garter of the same accent wrapped around their calves hummed with its experimental feature: he can now jump once every minute mid-air. Allowing him to descend from great distances with little impact, and the suit's lining accounts for the G-forces generated by the fall, as well as its sudden stop.

And at the end, he dons a lightweight helmet, bearing the mask of his kind, with red visors like the old. Though hard to improve on perfection, a bandana is tied around the inner material just as an accessory with self-sealing redundancies should it be removed.

Miles looks at his father and his uncle who don the same gear too, but are far wiser and skillful than he is. His time will come when he reaches their level though, and to bear their responsibility, yet advancing their newfound philosophy. To be more than the suit, to be more than a Power Ranger; to be alive.

****

Thank you for reading!