Kapitel 33: Scars of Survival
As Joey approached the evaluation room, he mentally braced himself. The door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a room that was anything but typical for a psychologist's office. The walls were adorned with elegant tapestries of crimson and gold, intricate patterns swirling across the fabric like whispers of a forgotten time. Ancient tomes lined the shelves, their leather spines cracked with age, and the scent of parchment filled the air. A grand mahogany desk stood near the center, polished to a dark sheen. The room exuded an air of aristocratic taste—timeless, deliberate, and quietly commanding.
A tall, slender man with neatly combed silver hair and piercing blue eyes stood beside the desk, adjusting the cufflinks on his tailored suit. He moved with a fluid grace that spoke of a lifetime of refinement. His gaze flicked up as Joey entered, a faint smile curling his lips.
"Ah, Mr. DiMarco," he said with a refined accent, his voice smooth, each word carefully weighed. "Do come in." His tone was warm, yet carried an undertone that was hard to place—a subtle mix of curiosity and something almost clinical.
"Doctor Zophram, I presume," Joey replied, lingering near the door, his posture stiff. His eyes flicked around the room, wary of the cultivated opulence. He wasn't used to surroundings like these, and he disliked how they made him feel—like an interloper.
"Indeed. Zeddicus Zophram at your service," the doctor said, offering a polite nod as if Joey were an old acquaintance. He gestured gracefully toward a chair in front of the desk. "Please, have a seat."
"I'll stand," Joey replied, his tone cool, a hint of defiance in his eyes.
"As you wish," Dr. Zophram said, unfazed. He sank into the chair behind the desk, folding his hands neatly in front of him. He arched an eyebrow, his gaze settling on Joey with a patient intensity. "How are you feeling today, Joseph?"
Joey's jaw tightened at the use of his full name. He crossed his arms, the movement almost instinctive—defensive. "Fine," he said curtly, trying to mask his unease.
"Excellent," Dr. Zophram replied, his voice smooth as silk, yet there was an underlying curiosity that Joey couldn't ignore. He steepled his fingers, his eyes still fixed on Joey, probing. "No lingering physical injuries? No emotional scars that haven't quite healed yet? I trust your recovery has been swift?"
"Thanks to Nova and the morpher," Joey answered, his words clipped. There was a subtle challenge in his eyes, daring Dr. Zophram to say something about it.
The doctor smiled, a small, almost amused smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Marvelous technology, indeed," he mused, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "A testament to human ingenuity—or rather, a reminder of how desperate we were to cling to anything left behind by our 'benevolent' alien benefactors, wouldn't you say?"
Joey's expression darkened, his mind flickering briefly to Nova. He wouldn't have ever met her, let alone linked with her, if it hadn't been for the alien technology. There were days he hated that truth—how everything he valued was tied to something foreign, something forced upon them by necessity. But it was only because of that alien technology that they had been able to fight the Elvanurus. It was a bitter pill, but one he knew was essential for survival. He pushed the thought away, unwilling to entertain it further. He had no patience for philosophical musings today. "You wanted to discuss something about my team," he said, his voice taut, steering the conversation away from himself."
Dr. Zophram raised an eyebrow, a faint, amused smile playing at his lips as he jotted something down in his notes, clearly intrigued by Joey's defensive reaction.
"Ah, yes, your team," Dr. Zophram said, nodding slightly. He picked up a file from his desk, glancing at it before looking back at Joey. "Tragic losses, all of them.
The Black Ranger—strong, steadfast, but always carrying the weight of the team. He took on more than he should have, isolating himself from all of you, believing it was his duty to bear the brunt of every battle. He pushed himself to extremes, convincing himself that by taking on the most danger, he was keeping everyone else safe. A noble sentiment, but a reckless one. Prone to taking unnecessary risks, wouldn't you say?"
Joey's fists clenched, and Nova's irritation pulsed through his mind, like an ember feeding into his own growing blaze of frustration and grief. Joey's voice was low, defensive. "He fought the best way he knew how. He enjoyed being in the thick of it, trading blow for blow. He took the hits for others who couldn't or shouldn't have and a lot of people are alive because he was there. He did what he thought was best." Joey's fists clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowing. Nova's presence throbbed in his thoughts, her emotions intertwining with his own, amplifying his frustration and sharpening his grief.
"Of course," Dr. Zophram agreed, his tone almost sympathetic, but with an underlying hint of something darker.
"The Pink Ranger—brilliant, dark, and with a hunger for the thrill. She was always drawn to the edge, wasn't she? There was something... primal about her. The battlefield was where she thrived, where she revealed her true nature. She didn't just fight the Elvanurus—she hunted them. The precision of her sniper shots wasn't just a skill; it was a desire, an intimate obsession. She got off on the kill, didn't she?
It wasn't just about any mission. She was in control when she had her sights on a target, when she could pull the trigger and end the chaos in her own mind. But that need for control, that lust for the hunt—it must have often put her at odds with the rest of you. One can see how surviving Alphabet, she'd think that darkness and independence made her a survivor, but it also left her separate, isolated. Wouldn't you agree, Joseph? At times, her desire to act on her own terms put the rest of you in difficult positions, didn't it?"
Joey's lips curled into a sneer, his anger barely contained. "She had her methods," he said, his voice edged with a protective anger. He didn't like where this was going. His mind raced to the bond he and Pink had forged during their time in Alphabet. They had both endured the horrors of that place, seen the darkness within their would-be rescuers and in the children around them, and found a way to survive that no one else understood. Pink wasn't just a sniper; she was someone who fought demons that most couldn't even comprehend.
"Indeed," Dr. Zophram said, arching an eyebrow.
"The Yellow Ranger—keen, agile, and always the quickest to react. She had a natural gift for seeing the flow of battle, and her instinctive reflexes must have made her invaluable in the field. There was an intensity to her, a drive to excel, but that intensity could become a dubious weakness. Sometimes, that spark burned too brightly, and she would find herself lost in the heat of the moment. The pressure, the stakes—especially when the team was at its most vulnerable—could push her to the point of hesitation.
I doubt it was a lack of courage. But when emotions ran high, the gravity of those choices would sometimes paralyze her, if only for a heartbeat. In those moments, hesitation can be fatal. Wouldn't you say her resolve wavered at the times when it mattered most, Joseph? Especially during those missions where the cost of failure was right in front of her eyes?"
"What you call hesitation, I call tactical precision," Joey replied, his voice cold and firm. Nova's anger simmered like an undercurrent in his thoughts, fueling the tension that coiled within him, tightening his fists until they ached. Joey hated how Dr. Zophram spoke of his team—as if they were just case studies, flaws to dissect. Yellow wasn't hesitant; she was precise. She analyzed the battlefield, always waiting for the right moment to make her move, ensuring her actions had the greatest impact. Joey and Nova were on edge, the tension unbearable, each word from Dr. Zophram feeling like another calculated push toward the brink.
Dr. Zophram leaned back in his chair, studying Joey with a detached interest, as though Joey were a specimen under a microscope. His voice, calm and precise, cut through the silence like a blade. "Bravery comes in many forms," he began, his tone measured, almost philosophical.
"And then, of course, there's the Red Ranger—your leader. A remarkable individual.
She had this incredible ability to bring out the best in everyone around her, didn't she? She inspired people to push themselves, to strive for a version of themselves they thought unreachable. She was fiercely protective, constantly putting herself between the danger and those under her command. Her desire to shield everyone—while noble—often turned into a need to control every outcome, every decision.
She pushed herself beyond reason, believing she was responsible for every occurrence on the field. But that relentless drive left her blind to the strengths of others, and in trying to carry the weight of the team, she inadvertently weakened them. Admirable, yes... but ultimately flawed. She couldn't see that in her effort to do everything, she was keeping her team from rising to meet their own potential."
Joey's eyes flashed with anger, but he kept his mouth shut, his jaw clenched tight. Dr. Zophram continued, his voice soft, each word cutting deep. "She believed she had to carry every burden—every decision, every life—on her own shoulders. Her refusal to delegate, her insistence on taking the lead, even when Yellow and Black were perfectly capable, nearly cost you all.
She underestimated her team, and in doing so, she disempowered them. Her need to be the one who saved everyone, as though no one else could be trusted, did it come from a place of love—or was it arrogance?
She overreached, trying to be everything for everyone, and that led to mistakes, costly mistakes. Instead of trusting her team, she bore the weight alone, and it broke her. Instead of making you stronger, she made herself the lynchpin, and when she fell, everything else came crashing down. It wasn't heroism—it was a tragic failure of leadership."
"She was more than brave, she set a new paradigm," Joey snapped, his voice trembling with fury. A flash of pain crossed his eyes, raw and untamed. Nova's rage surged like a wildfire through his thoughts, merging with his own until the intensity of it made his fists clench painfully, a shared fury that felt almost unbearable.
Red was relentless, a force that pushed them all beyond their limits. She made them feel like they could defy their own limits, and Joey couldn't stand the way Dr. Zophram tried to reduce her to something so trivial. The tension between him and the doctor was palpable, boiling over with each patronizing word, every calculated jab feeling like another deliberate shove toward the edge of violence.
Joey's jaw tightened, the words clawing at the back of his mind like a sharp thorn. "She did everything right," he said, his voice low but firm. "She made the decision that saved me."
Dr. Zophram tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Only you?" he asked, his tone laced with subtle condescension.
The question struck Joey like a punch to the gut, the force of it almost doubling him over as the weight settled like a crushing burden in his chest. His heart ached, the pain sharp and unrelenting, and he swallowed hard, struggling to push down the knot of raw emotion threatening to choke him. "Yes," he whispered, his voice barely audible, laced with the agony of everything unsaid.
Dr. Zophram's eyes gleamed, sensing an opening. "But the world and the alliance need all five Rangers, does it not? Such an extreme failure," he mused, almost to himself. "Only you… while the rest were lost. What a tragic waste. I wonder how the families of those injured and killed soldiers felt when their loved ones didn't come home. The grief, the anger—the abandonment. All those people who were counting on the Rangers to protect them, to bring their loved ones back safe. And instead, they received empty promises and empty coffins buried neatly beneath folded flags."
Joey's fists clenched at his sides, his breath growing shallow. "It wasn't a failure!" he shouted, his voice shaking with conviction. "The Ceres mission closed the rift and sealed their fleet. "Soldiers die. It's what they signed up for. It's what the Rangers consented to when we took on the morphers. She did what she had to do!"
Dr. Zophram leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "Did she? You're alive, Joseph, but four other Rangers are dead. You think that's success? Look at what was lost. The Alliance needed her leadership, her guidance—she was irreplaceable in ways you could never be. She could have trained the next generation, inspired them to be better. To create a world where rangers and zords are no longer required. And instead, they have you, alone and broken." And she? Well she couldn't even save herself."
Joey's breath caught, memories flashing through his mind—faces of his team, moments before everything fell apart. He had to hold on. A deep shame washed over him, one he knew Nova shared. The truth gnawed at him: she had saved him, but at what cost? He couldn't shake the thought that maybe the doctor was right. Maybe, just maybe, the Alliance needed her more than it needed him. The weight of that reality bore down on him like an anchor, and Nova, ever present in his mind, mirrored the guilt he felt. "She saved me! Blood Plague was about to kill me, and she acted without hesitation."
Dr. Zophram smiled faintly, a predatory edge to his expression. "Yes, instinct. The primal, animalistic reaction of someone pushed beyond their limits. She reacted, but good leaders don't just react—they plan. They anticipate. And they compensate. She let her emotions dictate her choices, and now you're left here, calling her failure, heroism."
Joey's breath hitched—then snapped.
"Shut your fucking mouth!" Joey bellowed, the words erupting like a volcanic blast. His entire body surged forward, fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned bone-white. His chest heaved with barely restrained rage, each breath coming out in ragged bursts. In a single, violent motion, Joey shoved the desk hard, slamming it into Dr. Zophram and pinning him against the wall behind. The entire desk rattled as it collided, the impact reverberating through the room like a thunderclap. Papers scattered, and the objects on its surface toppled, the force of the shove leaving no doubt about Joey's fury.
"You have no idea what the hell you're talking about!" Joey roared, his voice breaking through the air like thunder. His eyes blazed with raw fury, locked onto Dr. Zophram as though ready to tear him apart. He loomed over the doctor, his entire frame trembling with barely-contained violence, every muscle in his body wound tight like a coiled spring ready to snap. "You weren't there! You didn't see what she did! She saved my life! She saved every soul on Earth and every soul throughout the alliance!" His words came out in a primal snarl, almost choking on his rage. His nostrils flared, his jaw set like stone, every inch of him daring Dr. Zophram to push further." His words came out in a primal snarl, almost choking on his rage. His nostrils flared, his jaw set like stone, every inch of him daring Dr. Zophram to push further.
Dr. Zophram remained pinned, unfazed, but the slight twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed his amusement. He watched Joey as if observing an experiment gone precisely as planned, his eyes glinting with curiosity even as the desk pressed into him. The pressure, the violence—it was all just data to him, another reaction to be studied. His calm demeanor only enraged Joey further, as if the doctor's vulnerability was nothing more than a calculated part of his approach.
Joey's voice dropped, low and lethal, dripping with venom. "If you say one more word about her..." He leaned in close, towering over Zeddicus, his breath hot with fury, "I swear, I'll make you regret every breath you're taking right now."
The threat hung heavy in the air, the tension so thick it felt as if the room itself might crack under the pressure. Joey's fists shook at his sides, every fiber of his being ready to explode into violence. The heat radiating off him was palpable, like the air before a lightning strike.
But Nova wasn't interested in calming him. She wasn't frozen in fear or hesitation; her mind was already calculating, adding an intimidating presence to the moment. She analyzed the room through every holo projector and view screen, assessing the situation, plotting how best to support Joey if things escalated. Her presence was meant to reinforce his authority, to remind Dr. Zophram that he wasn't just dealing with Joey alone. She was everywhere, watching, and she wanted Zophram to feel that pressure—an omnipresent force ready to react if needed.
Nova's presence flicked on the screens, her eyes fixed on Dr. Zophram, ensuring he understood the severity of the situation. She didn't want Joey to kill him, not here—not yet. But she did want Zophram to feel the weight of what could happen. She wanted the doctor to realize that pushing Joey any further would come with consequences. Her role was clear: to add tension, to remind Dr. Zophram that Joey was not alone, and that crossing them was a dangerous game. She amplified Joey's fury, adding a silent but unmistakable edge of intimidation.
The tension was thick, hanging in the air between them, as if the room itself was bracing for the violence that had already erupted. Joey's hands were still pressed against the desk that pinned Dr. Zophram to the wall, his entire body trembling with barely restrained fury. The raw physicality of the moment left Joey teetering on the edge, every fiber of his being vibrating with rage, daring Zophram to push him even further.
But Dr. Zophram did something unexpected. He smiled—not the cold, condescending smirk from before, but a genuine, almost satisfied grin.
Inside Joey's mind, her voice cut through the haze like a knife, cold and precise. "He's playing you, Blue. Look at him. He thinks he has the upper hand."
Joey blinked, caught between his fury and the sudden calm from Dr. Zophram. He wasn't sure which direction to follow, but Nova's presence surged through his thoughts like a steady current, grounding him in a way only she could. "I know what you're thinking," she whispered, her tone icy, "and you're right. He deserves it."
Dr. Zophram leaned back slightly, his body language shifting from antagonistic to almost reassuring. His eyes remained locked on Joey, but there was no longer the cold edge to them. Despite being pinned against the wall by the desk, he seemed almost pleased, as if the outburst had played perfectly into his hands.
"This. This is the breakthrough we've been waiting for. Something no one else has managed to get from you—raw, unfiltered emotion. Anger, grief, guilt... You've been holding it all in, Joseph. You've been locked in your own head for too long, and this release is what we needed." He paused, glancing at the still-clenched fists and the trembling intensity in Joey's eyes, as if savoring the chaos before him.
Joey's fists trembled at his sides, still burning with anger, but something in Dr. Zophram's tone made him hesitate. Slowly, Joey released his grip on the desk, pulling it back and allowing Dr. Zophram to breathe easier. Nova shifter her projection from the screen to the holo projectors in the room, her digital form flickering to life, her gaze still fixed on the doctor with unblinking eyes, monitoring every move.
Dr. Zophram seemed unfazed by her appearance, continuing his soothing tone. "This isn't about Re or the others. It's about you. You feel like you failed, that their sacrifice was for nothing because you survived. You've been carrying that weight alone, and it's killing you."
"It doesn't matter what he says, Blue," she said in Joey's mind, her voice like a calm undercurrent to his rage. "Reliving the past like this isn't healthy. We focus on the here and now and we power through the pain."
Joey's body shook, torn between the deep emotional pull Dr. Zophram was digging in and the cold, clear logic Nova was offering him. Her presence filled the room—she was everywhere, watching, waiting. And the thought of what she was proposing lingered in his mind, tempting him.
Dr. Zophram smiled softly, unaware of the war happening inside Joey's head. "This is progress, Joey. You needed to feel this. You needed to let it out. It's not weakness; it's the first step toward healing."
"Healing?" Nova's voice oozed contempt, echoing across the screens and her projected form. "He's only saying what you want to hear so he can keep his control over you. He thinks this is a breakthrough? I think this is a perfect opportunity to make him disappear." Her tone grew darker, more deliberate. "Show him, Joey"
Joey's fists slowly unclenched, his knuckles still white from the tension. He glanced at Nova's image—her cold, calculating gaze fixed on Zeddicus, unblinking. "We need to stay in control."
Dr. Zophram's smile softened, losing some of its enigmatic edge and revealing something more personal. His voice carried a surprising weight. "I'm here to help you navigate through this ordeal, Joey. You and Nova—it's clear how much you've both suffered." He paused, his eyes locking onto Joey's with an intensity that felt invasive. Joey's heart pounded, a visceral reaction to the way Dr. Zophram seemed to peel away every defense. There was a haunting familiarity in the doctor's demeanor, an unsettling awareness.
"I know what suffering does," Zophram continued, his tone reflective. "I've witnessed the kind of pain people can inflict on one another—the torment, the twisted satisfaction that comes to those who abuse power. But beyond that, I've seen the strength that grows from resistance, the unity forged in survival." His gaze held Joey's, his words taking on an intimate, almost conspiratorial tone. "You understand that, don't you? How loss and pain bond people in ways nothing else can. You and Nova—you're connected by that same agony. The loss of your team. Feeling each of their deaths through the link."
Joey froze, his chest tightening as though the air had become thick. The truth in Zophram's words hit harder than he expected. He had never spoken of that pain—not even to Nova—and yet here was Zophram, laying it out as if he'd lived it himself. Joey's breath quickened, his voice shaky. "How do you know this?"
Dr. Zophram's expression darkened, shadowed by something deeper. "I know because I've seen it before," he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that went beyond clinical detachment. "The Alliance ensures I have the information I need, Joseph. But it's more than that—suffering leaves a mark. It warps people, bonds them, scars them. And I've lived through that kind of pain myself."
Joey's fists clenched, his mind racing. Zophram wasn't just speaking as a doctor—he spoke as someone who had walked through torment, someone who understood the bonds that pain could forge. Nova's voice whispered in his mind, sending a chill through him. "He's dangerous, Joey. He's enjoying this."
Zophram leaned in slightly, his gaze unrelenting. "I know what evil looks like, Joseph. I've seen it in countless forms. I understand both the thrill of those who inflict pain and the resilience of those who endure it." His voice softened, becoming almost confessional. "You and Nova are different. Stronger than most because you've faced that darkness together. That's what makes you powerful."
Joey's chest tightened further, the air around him growing heavy with Zophram's words. He could feel the truths he'd buried surfacing, laid bare by a man who seemed to understand too much. Every survivor carried scars, and Zophram seemed to know the weight of those scars intimately. Joey's mind spun, questioning what Zophram had endured during the Countdown. "Is he guessing?" Joey wondered. "Or did he live through something like we did?"
But before Joey could respond, Dr. Zophram's tone shifted, becoming almost... knowing. "It's not just that you lost your team. You felt it, didn't you? Felt their deaths through the neuro link. Felt each one of them slip away, as if it were happening to you. And Nova—she was there too, wasn't she? Suffering with you, through every heartbeat, every scream."
Joey's breath hitched, the raw truth of those words striking him like a physical blow. He had never spoken of it—not to anyone. Not even to Nova. The link had connected him to his team, and when they died, Joey had felt it—every moment, every flicker of life extinguishing. It had haunted him, consumed him. And Nova had been there, sharing in the burden, feeling it through him, because of him.
"Stop listening," Nova's voice urged, but there was a crack in her tone, an uncharacteristic wavering. "We don't need to talk about this. We agreed never to discuss it."
Joey felt his body tremble, the old pain surging back to the surface. "We don't talk about that," he said, his voice weak, strained.
Zeddicus's eyes narrowed slightly, his expression softening. "Because it's too painful, isn't it?" His voice was gentle now, almost sympathetic. "Because no one else understands the burden you and Nova carry. No one else can possibly know what it feels like... to lose everything and feel it happen from the inside."
Joey's mind was a whirlwind of emotions, his fists still clenched, but the anger had faded into something else—fear, vulnerability, the raw, unhealed wounds he and Nova shared. Dr. Zophram had peeled them open without hesitation.
"Joseph," Dr. Zophram continued softly, his tone taking on a personal weight, "you've endured more than most people can imagine. You and Nova... you're connected in ways others wouldn't understand. You've felt each other's pain, carried each other's grief. But if you don't confront it... it will destroy you both."
Joey's shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of Zeddicus's words pressing down on him. Nova's presence in his mind was still there, strong as ever, but now... there was something else, something unspoken between them. The shared grief that neither of them had ever fully addressed.
"I don't know how..." Joey murmured, his voice barely audible, lost in the swirling chaos of his thoughts.
Dr. Zophram leaned back, his enigmatic smile returning, though there was something darker behind it now. "You'll find a way, Joseph," he said quietly. "You're stronger than you realize. Both of you are. That's what makes you different. And that's what makes you dangerous."
Dr. Zophram stood, smoothing his coat as he prepared to leave, his demeanor shifting back to professional calm. "I'd say today's session was quite productive," he remarked, his tone returning to its measured, controlled cadence. "We've uncovered a lot, Joseph. You've taken important steps—both of you." His eyes flickered briefly to the holo screens, where Nova's image still loomed. "I want to see you again next week. There's more to explore, and I think we've only just begun to scratch the surface of what's really holding you back." He paused at the door, casting one last glance at Joey, whose body remained tense, his mind still reeling from the session. "Think about what we discussed. There's more to confront, and it's not something you need to face alone."
With that, Zophram turned and left the room, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving Joey and Nova in the thick silence of what had just been unearthed.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein