Mighty Hero Force Epsilon (S1 E2)

Season Notes: violence, magical coercion, references to suicide, cliffhanger

Prince Mourningdagger and eir three lieutenants hovered over the fortress that had just appeared in the middle of the city.

Watching them were the five who had just transformed. Later, they would struggle to come to terms with the power that had invaded them and the destruction of their homes. But the power filling them shoved their confusion aside and let them focus on what needed to be done.

“What are your names?” Mobb demanded.

“Astaroth. I suspect I’m the frontman,” he said, giving his glowing look a once over.

“Quickmoon,” ey tested the heft of the magic sword as ey spoke. “I’ve got a greatsword. And I think I know how to use it! I guess that makes me defense?”

“If you say so. Mobb, and it looks like I’m still the fucking grunt.”

“Blades. I’m fairly well supplied. I think the grunt would call me the REMF.

“Salem. I got speed. For whatever damn good it does. Anyone got a bloody plan? Cause I’m guessing running isn’t an option anymore.”

“Was it ever?”

“Hell yeah.”

“If we’re sentai,” Quickmoon said, “we’re supposed to work together. Where can we meet up?”

“I’m at 5th and Overhall; the Guard is mobilizing here. We should coordinate with them.”

“No.” Astaroth wasn’t going to get bogged down in discussion with government… people. And how could they coordinate when they had no idea what was going on? “We go straight in. Meet at the fortress. Clear civilians and take down bad guys as we go.”



“Don’t keep me waiting, assholes.”

“Moving out.”

Quickmoon took a moment to tell eir family to barricade the door. Mobb grabbed a radio off one of the soldiers who saw her transform. Then they were all moving. Four mostly straight lines drawn across the city. And one crazy zig-zag.

Salem did indeed have speed, a lot of it. She focused on pulling people out of the danger zone, bringing them back to the park she had collapsed at a few moments and an eternity ago. It would take the others a while to reach the end, so she didn’t need to rush.

Astaroth strode straight down the middle of the street. Boldness against bullies was an old habit, and the ability to slam them into walls with a shout just made it better.

A greatsword is meant for defense; Quickmoon was right about that — defense against a group attack. So ey decided it was time to tank. As ey moved toward the fortress, ey used ‘verbal aggros’ against every one of the monsters ey saw. They rushed in, getting in each other’s way as they attacked em and the reach of the greatsword kept them off of em. It spun and flashed in eir hands, drawing oddly colored blood that rained off the blade as ey led them back toward the fortress and away from the many survivors.

“Any other gamers here?” Ey called with a laugh.

“1v1 me, bitch.”

“Well, I’m gonna need some DPS pretty soon. Maybe some support heals. Going full Jenkins has never been an ambition of mine.”


“What the hell are you two talking about?” A burst of gunfire came through as Mobb spoke.

“Our tank with the flashy sword set themself up as bait and needs someone to be the ambusher,” Blade translated. “I’ve got potions, but I don’t think AoE is on the menu.”

“Someone stop them!”

“My six is clear,” Blade continued, “but I’ve only got a sidearm, and the area ahead is full of hostiles. This may turn into a massive FUBAR.”

“Now you’re speaking my fucking language!”

“I do recognize the word ‘hostiles,'” Astaroth put in, pushing on the word ‘hostiles’ to swat another monster. “Does jargon-man need an assist?”

“I think I can go around.”

In an odd way, they got to know their powers and each other while fighting their way to the fortress. It worked, somehow.

They reached the fortress at about the same time, the five of them and a few dozen monsters who hadn’t yet figured out how to get past Quickmoon’s sword.

“Okay, what now?”

“Do you feel that?”

“I think so…”

“Fucking creepy.”

“Can you pull it off, Quick?”

They had no idea how they knew what to do, then or later. But they all knew it. In a move that no one else should try, ever, Quick pulled eir sword back into high guard, then twisted and slammed the point into the ground. It stuck there like the sword in the stone. The ripple it created knocked the monsters off their feet for yards around.

Quickmoon took a knee next to the sword. All around the fortress, the others did the same: planting their hands on the ground and pulling, pulling up. As they pulled, a blue shimmer rose out of the ground. Pulling still, pulling against the whole weight of the Earth, standing, straining, lifting, raising, one last effort, hands flung over heads, up and out. The world froze as that shimmer spread up and over the fortress and Prince Mourningdagger, locking them away from the city.

Everyone — including Our Heroes — stared in shock. Then Mourningdagger flew down and smashed into the shield. Right in front of Astaroth. The whole city shook, but the shield held.

“Who dares!”


“I am Prince Mourningdagger, ruler of the ten legions and conqueror of–”

“Yeah, I heard the speech.” Astaroth’s words weren’t a weapon now, but they were somehow heard by everyone in the city. “You’re the biggest bully on the block, and you’re going to beat us up until we give you all our lunch money.”

Salem burst out laughing. “You tell ’em!”

Mourningdagger glared at Astaroth. “Who gave you this power!”

Astaroth blinked. “You don’t know? I mean, shouldn’t it be your ancient enemy you’ve been battling against for eons but isn’t willing to face you directly?”

Mourningdagger roared and slammed into the shield.

“Um, team? A little help here?” Quickmoon called.

The monsters Quickmoon’s power had knocked over had found their feet. Eir sword was in eir hands again, but they were circling em. Now that ey wasn’t on the move, they had managed to pull together to coordinate attacks that were getting harder for em to fend off.

“On my way!” Salem replied, from nearly halfway around the fortress. She took off, moving fast enough she was nothing but a blur. But no matter how fast she went, her HUD not only let her see clearly but kept updating and mapping out routes for her. “Heals, incoming!” she yelled only a breath before she reached Blade’s position and grabbed him up in an over-the-shoulder carry. “Damn, I think I love this gig.”

Moments later, she bowled right through the monsters to deposit Blade next to Quickmoon. She dodged around and jumped over Quickmoon’s swing before the fighter even knew she was there. Then Salem was dashing on toward Mobb’s position.

Astaroth grinned at Mourningdagger. “Excuse me, we have some cleanup to do.” Then turned and walked away.

“This is not the last you have seen of me!” the invader shouted.

“Of course not.”

They finished clearing out the monsters, then did what they could to help the survivors. Blade and Salem especially were a godsend to many people across the city. Thankfully, the government hadn’t sat on its ass for once — FEMA was called out the same time as the National Guard. They had their act together, too.

No matter how magical the team was, there definitely came a point where quantity counted.

So after discretely checking on their families, they left the city. They need to figure out how to turn their powers off and decide what next.

They picked a nearby state park, and Salem zipped them over one at a time to avoid being followed or spied on.

In a movie, one of them would have wanted out, would have been afraid, or said ‘not my job’ or something. But all of them, even Salem, were in from the first moment. “I ran away because I couldn’t do anything else,” she said later, “Once I could fight, I didn’t need to run. Away.”

Un-transforming was surprisingly easy. Finding a place to use a team headquarters and safe house was… more difficult. But they managed it. Eventually.

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Mighty Hero Force Epsilon S1, E1

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Mighty Hero Force Epsilon (S1 E3)

Mighty Hero Force Epsilon (S1 E1)

There are certain rules a sentai team is supposed to follow. They’re supposed to have matching uniforms, and a theme. And they ALWAYS have a guide or mentor. Someone who gave them their powers and can tell them how to use those powers. Someone who tells them what their team name is supposed to be and the history of their enemy.

The rules have been broken. They have no team uniform, they have no guide. They have magic powers they don’t understand and an unknown enemy taking over random cities.

At least they get along, right?

Season Notes: violence, magical coercion, references to suicide, cliffhanger

At one time or another, everyone Blade knew had mocked him for his obsessions with safety and being prepared. Today was worth every bit of scorn he’d ever taken. It had taken him all of five minutes to get his emergency supplies loaded on his bike — and only that long because he’d grabbed the community supplies along with his go-bag. Having a bicycle let him get ahead of both the evacuees on foot and the drivers (trapped in gridlock). But he didn’t run and keep running. He had a plan (he always had a plan). Based on his research, he knew that folks escaping west would start collapsing at Lansford Park. Far enough that fear couldn’t drive people further and big enough to have room for a crowd. By the time the first folks on foot arrived, Blade had a blanket out piled with water, first aid supplies, and energy bars. It wouldn’t last long, but it would help. He hoped.

Salem staggered to a stop, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds. As soon as she could, she began stumbling onward. Where? She didn’t know. Away. Behind her, the city she had lived in her whole life was dying. Around her others — dozens, no hundreds — ran or stumbled or crawled away from the monsters that had appeared and started attacking everyone and everything in the city center. As well as she knew the city, Salem had lost track of where she was in her frantic race away. She’d been running for what felt like hours but didn’t know how much longer she could keep going.

Quickmoon stood bracing emself in the sunken doorway that led to an old root cellar. Inside the root cellar hid eir siblings and grandmother. Gran couldn’t run, and none of the grandkids had been willing to abandon her. Since Quickmoon had taken classes in everything from judo to HEMA… (She never stuck with anything for more than a year, and the saying about the martial artist who practiced one kick 10,000 times was echoing through eir mind now…) Ey had convinced the others to let eir hold the door. Ten thousand kicks practiced 10 times might make for a shitty martial artist, but it was more than either Noam or Amanda had learned.

So far, the monsters had been running past, not noticing eir below street level. Ey didn’t think that would last long.

Mobb cheered when she saw the National Guard rolling down the street toward the aliens. She thought they were aliens. Whatever they were, they were about to get their asses kicked. She had no idea where her unit was, but she was reaching for her Reserve ID card when a boom like the deepest drum ever reverberated through the sky. A rip had opened, a bruise-purple blot across the blue sky. Out of the rip — rift? — stepped… a person? Mobb thought it was a person. Even though they were easily a mile away, Mobb saw them — and the three who followed them — as if they were right in front of eir. They were skinny, their pinkish skin contrasted with their dark hair and green eyes. They laughed, nearly as deep as the echoing boom that had announced their arrival. And Mobb knew the Guard wasn’t going to be enough.

Astaroth hated his name. He felt foolish thinking about it as some interdimensional menace loomed over his city. But it was exactly the kind of name an interdimensional menace should have. Thinking about how much his name sucked was better than listening to the Villain Monologue spewing from the Evil Overlord wannabe. Astaroth hated bullies. Had hated them for as long as he could remember. This guy, whatever they called themself, might be a bigger bully than anyone he’d faced before. As far as Astaroth was concerned, they were just another bully. And Astaroth was done running from bullies.

Why them? Why those five out of all the thousands — millions — of people in the city that day? Who knows. Luck, the hand of God (or gods), some mystical requirements they met. But it was them. And it was a hair’s breadth too late.

A soundless explosion ripped through the city center, lightning-bright and blinding everyone who looked. When it faded, the city center was gone. In its place stood a fortress of gleaming metal.

At that moment, that same moment, the five were touched — no, overwhelmed — with an unearthly power.

Blade was lifted off his feet, spun and twisted, his clothing sheeting from his body like water. He was wrapped in power, transformed. A uniform slithered across him — dark blue with a neon green ‘vest’ like first responders wore with more pockets and pouches than a mall ninja. A helmet formed over his head, the same blue as the outfit with a heads-up display that showed him the health and general status of everyone in view.

Not knowing why, Salem took a running leap, and something held her in mid aid. Her clothing flowed into a skin-tight tracksuit that gleamed pale gold in the impossible darkness that surrounded her. Dark sunglasses shielded her eyes, and an aerodynamic helmet wrapped around her head. Her HUD flickered to life with distance, time-to, and best route information. She came down to earth like a runner on the blocks, this time facing toward the enemy.

Quickmoon settled into a solid high guard. Eir clothing evaporated into glittering motes that reformed into a gleaming HEMA ‘uniform’ — white fencing jacket over long shirt, loose black pants, sturdy boots, and shin guards. A great sword formed in eir hands. Ey sprang forward in the great sword’s slashing, spinning defense. A fencing helmet with dark, glass faceguard snapped over eir, highlighting strengths and weaknesses of every enemy in sight.

Mobb’s ID card shattered in her hand, reforming into an automatic rifle (sans magazine). Her clothing twisted and rewove itself into a shimmering camo bodysuit that blurred her outline. She nearly disappeared into the background. The dark glasses that wrapped around her head sharpened her vision and gave her targeting information for whatever she focused on. She settled into a crouch and instinctively sighted on the big bad — impossibly far away though they were.

Astaroth somehow saw each of the others transform even as power wrapped around him, lifting him on a shining pillar. Light exploded out for him, searing his clothing. Blue swirled around him, reforming in loose pants and a robe that shone with strange symbols and sigils. He closed his eyes against the brightness, but pressure built behind his lids, forcing his eyes open, forcing his mouth open. Light beamed out of his eyes and mouth, piercing the sky above him. He alone received no helmet, no glasses. The light shimmered around him, somehow highlighting and concealing his face. As the rest of the lights faded, a single word burst from him, “Enough!”

The word rolled around the city like a great wind and bowled over the enemies nearest him.

And as it rolled over the city, each of the others heard it clearly, transmitted through their helmets.

“What the fuck?

“Oh hell no.”


“I’m a damn sentai…”

So the team was formed, but only after Prince Mourningdagger had a foothold on the world. It was up to the team to push them back off it.

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Mighty Hero Force Epsilon, S1, E2

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