Chapter Text

Here’s what was supposed to happen today: Eugene “Skull” Skulllovich was supposed to hang out with his best friend Farkas “Bulk” Bulkmeier. Bulk was supposed to call Skull early in the morning on a stakeout in their ongoing quest to find the secret identities of the Power Rangers. This stakeout was supposed to yield a dumpster from outer space containing Rita Repulsa that the two would take to Skull’s garage. Then, they were supposed to do all sorts of experiments that would keep them off the game board until after the Power Rangers saved the day as per usual.

But instead, today Skull ended up sleeping in because Bulk didn’t call him. Bulk didn’t call him early in the morning because the previous day the two got into a fight that was not supposed to happen. It went something like this:

After following Madam Swampy’s map to the Juice Bar, Skull balled it up and tossed it up and down like it was a beanbag. In the correct sequence of events he was supposed to ball it up and throw it down in front of the “geekoids” Kimberly Hart, Zach Taylor, and Billy Cranston.

But instead something—the forces of infinite causality, perhaps—made Skull toss the balled up map over his shoulder instead.

The crumbled-up map sailed through the air and hit Richie Mendoza—the new cashier—in the face while he was carrying out a plate of muffins that would be given away with the Juice Bar’s new promotion. Despite it being just a piece of paper, Richie stumbled backwards and threw the muffins up into the air. The muffins all rained down on Bulk’s head and he, in his surprise fell down into the table which spilled all the “geekoids’” smoothies on his head.

The entire juice bar erupted in laughter.

Now, Bulk had suffered worse embarrassment in the Juice Bar—usually involving pies or cakes or whatever other confectionary dishes vaudeville performers and clowns would fall into—but thanks to the arbitrary and seemingly senseless journey he had undertaken because of the map, Bulk was angry. Frustrated, even. Perhaps, if Skull had done what he was supposed to, then the geekoids would have revealed that Madam Swampy had deceived them and there would be no major baked goods related embarrassment.

But he didn’t.

Skull was laughing along with the others like he always did whenever Bulk knocked something over or was pelted with pie—seriously, why on earth did a juice bar have so many pies?—but those other times he’d roll with the humiliation and move on to the next thing. The new sequence of events eliminated the one route that would allow him to just roll with everyone—his best friend especially—laughing at his misfortune again.

“Bulkie,” he cackled. “If you wanted a smoothie so bad, I woulda bought you one!”

And things could have gone back on track if Bulk had just said, “Shut it, numbskull.” But instead he shouted, “Well, if I wanted a loser for a best friend I wouldn’t have stopped hanging out with Cranston!”

The Juice Bar quieted down. In anticipation? Fear? Interest?

“What’s that s’posed to mean, Bulk?” Skull asked.

“It means,” Bulk said, poking his finger in Skull’s chest for emphasis. “That we’d have figured out who the Power Rangers were by now if it weren’t for you!”

This was incorrect. Bulk knew it, but he was hurt and felt like lashing out.

“What?” Skull sputtered.

Bulk continued as if Skull hadn’t said anything, “You’re dead weight, Skull! We’d be rich and famous by now if you didn’t keep ruining my plans.”

“Now Bulk, that isn’t exactly—” Billy started to say.

“Stow it, nerd,” Bulk said, not even taking his attention off Skull who was turning a humiliated shade of red to match Bulk.

“I-I-I—” he stammered.

“Yeah,” Bulk groaned. “You, you, you! I’d say call me when you can form a sentence, but I don’t wanna see you ever again!’

And then he stormed off.

Skull stood there a couple moments, confused. He turned to Billy and then in the direction Bulk had left and then to the muffins on the ground.

“I gotta go,” he muttered, tugging his hat down over his eyes.

And so today Skull slept in. When he finally woke up he figured he would go to the Juice Bar anyway and maybe he’d see Bulk. Maybe they could pretend yesterday didn’t happen. It wasn’t like Bulk never said things like that before, but he never said it so loudly. In front of so many people. Like he actually meant it.

So, Skull rolled out of bed, changed from his red t-shirt and into a white one, and left for the Juice Bar.

But the thing is, Bulk and Skull’s fight seemed to have a subtle ripple effect on causality. For example, Tommy Oliver who was supposed to come back to Angel Grove later in the week, decided to return a few hours early to surprise everyone. He arrived at the Juice Bar roughly at the same time as Skull.

“Missing your better half today, Skull?” Tommy asked, holding open the door.

“Uh well…”

But Skull didn’t get the chance to come up with something coherent to say because a bolt of lightning struck in the parking lot. Where there had been nobody and nothing, suddenly there was that golden monkey-werewolf-angel monster—Goldar?—and the clay creatures—Putties?—he usually commanded to attack the Power Rangers.

You see, because Tommy decided to return to Angel Grove, Lord Zedd decided to have Goldar attack him. He figured without his powers, Tommy would be easy pickings and the rest of the Rangers would be further demoralized if their former teammate and friend (that seemed to be how human friendship worked at least to Zedd) were destroyed in such a public space.

“Welcome back to Angel Grove, Tommy” the monster bellowed.

“Wh-why does that monster know your name?” Skull squeaked.

“That’s not important, Skull. Get inside and tell everyone to hide!”

Skull would have done that, but he was paralyzed with fear. Tommy got into his fighting stance. And the Putties pounced. Skull had been swarmed by Putties a couple times before, and like then they tossed him around back and forth while they whooped and wailed. From what he could see Tommy was fighting hand to hand with Goldar and somehow not dying. On the other hand, it was taking all of Skull’s effort to dip and dodge the Putties’ punches and kicks, which actually meant that he’d dodge one punch and place himself right in the path of a kick and vice versa. Each blow was like getting hit with a brick, and Skull wasn’t sure he could take any more. Skull pushed his way through the swarm of Putties to hide behind a nearby car. Tommy and Goldar were fighting in front of it. Skull figured if he crawled beneath the car that the Putties would be dumb enough to leave him be if he were out of sight, but before he could he noticed Goldar was talking to Tommy.

“This time you won’t get away, Tommy,” Goldar roared with a flourish of his sword. “There’s no one to save you and—”

“Save it, Monkey Breath,” Tommy huffed. He held up his arm and showed Goldar the stupid watch Billy had made for their little group. “I already called for help, the Rangers will be here any second.”

Goldar laughed, “I can finish you faster than that.”

And then he lunged.

Eugene Skullovich was many things. A punk. A secret concert pianist. A sidekick. But most of all, he was a coward. If things were happening as they should have, Skull would not have been anywhere near this scene. This scene would not have been happening if everything were right on track. Eugene Skullovich had to do something that would satisfy one of his character traits, and because of the subtle ripples in causality he didn’t choose the cowardly option

He leapt from behind the car and pushed tommy out of the way of Goldar’s incoming sword. Skull moved fast enough that he didn’t get stabbed in Tommy’s stead, but the sword did catch his jacket which left him pinned to the car. Goldar laughed and slammed Skull against the car.

“Let him go, Goldar!” Tommy shouted.

“Y-yeah, let him go, Goldar,” Skull mumbled. “Please?”

“Surrender, Tommy, or else he’ll—”

Tommy Oliver was many things. A martial artist. A closet geek. A hero of justice. But most of all, he was a teenage boy who didn’t like to make waves. This tended to manifest in his non-superhero life as a soft-spokenness and deference to others. If things were going the way they should have, Tommy wouldn’t have been placed in this situation. He would be on his way to developing into a true leader. But the ripples in causality placed him in this moment, frustrated that he had lost his powers again, and Tommy said something out of character.

“What more does Lord Zedd want from me?” he demanded. “You already took my powers—you won! What more do you want?”

Goldar nodded, as if he were actually appraising Tommy’s words.

“Wrong answer,” he said as he fired an energy bolt through his sword into the car which in turn electrocuted Skull.

“No!” Tommy shouted, leaping for Goldar. He twisted through the air slammed his leg into Goldar. Powers or not, a spin kick from Tommy Oliver was enough to send Goldar flying back a couple feet. With Goldar briefly incapacitated, Tommy tried to check if Skull was okay.

“Skull?” he said, his voice trembling. Skull wasn’t breathing. “Skull, you have to wake up.”

It was at this moment that in the desert outside of Angel Grove Zordon was giving Alpha the order to zero-in on Tommy’s energy signature and teleport him to the command center. Just before Goldar could launch a counterattack or send the remaining Putties to, Tommy and Skull were transformed into white light and vanished.

Around this time, Rita’s Dumpster was crash landing into the park. In the original turn of events, Bulk and Skull would take it back with them to try and set the sorceress free. But thanks to the ripple effects of causality, there was no one around when it landed. There was no one who would inadvertently fix the dumpster in their opportunistic stupidity.

A small crack appeared on the side of the dumpster that would grow over the course of the day.