Max and the others eventually all returned back to the training area, including Max himself, and they reported the obvious: none of them could find Joe no matter where they looked within the massive facility.
Max felt a heavy weight settle on him. He knew he had to make a decision he didn’t want to. If Joe had decided to run away from this, then that was his choice.
’You’ve done a lot in the short amount of time you’ve been here, so I’ll see that you’re looked after,’ Max resolved internally, closing his eyes briefly. ’I’ll send him enough money so he can continue to live without working.’
Having been placed in this random body, in the position of leadership he was in, it was the least he could do for someone he considered a friend.
That was the moment the training room door opened. Wolf entered, and it wasn’t just him. Joe was seen walking behind, his head held down, but his posture subtly different.
The sleeves from his shirt had been ripped off. One could clearly see the fresh, stitched-up wound on his left shoulder, while the rest of the ripped fabric had been tightly wrapped around Joe’s right hand and forearms, acting as makeshift hand wraps.
"Sorry about being a little late," Joe said, his voice husky but holding a new, steely edge. "I just needed to clear my head a little and figure out how I’m going to take Aron down."
Joe hadn’t just come back. There was a new fire burning in him, a dangerous, focused intensity that hadn’t been there before.
’Oh, Wolf managed to find him, and he managed to ignite something in him that none of us could,’ Max thought, watching the exchange with stunned awe. ’I don’t think I could have gotten him this riled up. I guess there is a reason why Wolf was the leader of his own street gang after all.’
Joe stepped up, standing back on the arena floor. Opposite him was Aron, poised and silent, two daggers flashing in his hands.
When everyone saw Joe come back, ready to fight despite his fresh wound, they had to admit that in their chest, they were violently rooting for him. They were just hoping he could unlock whatever needed to be done.
"Joe!" Max called out, his eyes shining with pride. "I know I joke about things a lot, but you are one of the original Rangers. The Green Ranger." He used the nickname with all the gravitas he could muster. "It was a title given to you, so show me what the Green Ranger can do."
Joe nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line, and didn’t say anything else. Then, the fight started.
Aron charged ahead, showing great pressure because this time, he was coming forward as an attack truly ready to take a life.
He went to slash downward, a punishing strike from above. And for the first time, rather than awkwardly avoiding the blade, Joe deliberately went ahead and swung his wrapped arm, trying to meet the strike.
The blade cut across the shirt fabric wrapped around his arm, only slicing the material, not getting through to his skin. Using this surprising, aggressive momentum, Joe then stepped in and went for a quick jab with his other hand.
Narrowly, Aron managed to avoid the strike. He was taken aback, clearly surprised by Joe’s new tactic, and didn’t immediately follow up with a counter-attack.
"I’m not going to let it happen! I’m going to be different!" Joe shouted, throwing out several quick jabs with his uninjured hand.
Aron was forced to step back, avoiding them all, trying to find the right time to head back in for a decisive attack.
As Joe continued to punch, his mind raced with raw, desperate imagination. He started to imagine: If I could take down the opponent in front of me now, maybe Jay would have lived. Getting through this pain was the only way to stop terrible things like that from happening again. If he didn’t beat the person in front of him, then his life was worthless. It was nothing. His life was worth nothing if he couldn’t at least do this.
As Joe continued to throw punches, he felt a large, searing pain in his left shoulder. The wound had only been stitched up and bandaged a while ago, so it had ripped open again with all of the sudden, reckless movement. Blood was quickly soaking through the white bandages.
The fight was intense, with plenty of back-and-forths. Everyone could see the new Joe in action. He was utilizing his relentless stamina, his quick jabs, and his sheer obstinance to push forward. This was the raw, unrefined potential that Stephen had originally seen in him, the reason he had encouraged him to try and become a world champion boxer.
The issue was, and everyone knew it eventually when fighting Aron, they were fighting a battle they couldn’t win with standard tactics. In order to unlock the power that was dormant within, a fundamental change in mindset was needed. For most of them, it was the raw, primal decision: Even if I die, I will at least go down fighting for this.
Eventually, Aron had had enough. He stabbed Joe in the other side of the shoulder, cleanly penetrating the skin. Then, swinging the dagger, he aimed it right toward Joe’s temple. But it was the back of the dagger that connected with Joe, a calculated, non-lethal strike that caused him to be instantly knocked out and fall heavily to the floor.
When Joe started coming to, his eyes were weak. He could see the ceiling as well as a few of the medical staff members looking down at him.
That’s when they were surprised about something. They looked closely at the previously stitched-up wound that should have been freshly opened and bleeding profusely.
"Oh, that’s a surprise," the doctor murmured, leaning closer. "Part of it’s already healing. I don’t think I’ve seen that happen so quickly before."
Hearing these words, Max couldn’t help but smile, a wave of profound relief washing over him.
"It looks like he did it," Max said, his voice thick with emotion. Joe, the last Ranger, had finally achieved his Vow.