Author's Note:

I decided to see what a story of crossing Mighty Morphin Power Rangers with the revived Quantum Leap show and came up with this using a bit of help from Google Gemini.

​Mighty Morphin Quantum Refraction

A cyclone of blue energy resolved, leaving Dr. Ben Song standing on shaking knees. He wasn't falling through space or behind the wheel of a speeding car. He was in… a command center? It looked like something out of a low-budget sci-fi movie from his childhood. Polished chrome consoles sparked and beeped, and a strange, rhythmic electronic melody pulsed through the air.
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He looked down at his hands. They were pale and slender. He was wearing blue denim overalls, a plaid shirt, and thick-rimmed glasses.
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A familiar shimmer coalesced beside him, and Addison appeared, her eyes scanning the room with a mixture of professional curiosity and utter bewilderment.
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“Okay, found you,” she said, her voice a welcome anchor in the sea of strangeness. “You’re in Angel Grove, California. September, 1994. The host’s name is Billy Cranston, a high school student and… apparently a certified genius from the looks of this place.” She gestured vaguely at the blinking lights. “Ben, there’s a giant, disembodied head floating in a tube behind you.”
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Ben turned slowly. She was right. Encased in a massive energy tube was the serene, face of a man who looked like a cosmic wizard.
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“I see that,” Ben whispered, his scientific mind struggling to categorize the sight. “Any idea what—”
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“BILLY, THE TIME TO ACT IS NOW!” the head boomed, its voice echoing with paternal authority. “RITA REPULSA AND LORD ZEDD’S PHOTOMARE MONSTER IS SPREADING A WAVE OF AMNESIA ACROSS THE CITY.”
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Ben flinched at the volume. Addison quickly mouthed “Billy?” and pointed a finger at his chest. Ben gave a subtle nod. He was Billy. Right.
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“Okay, so I’m Billy,” Ben whispered to Addison, trying to keep his voice from the floating head’s notice. “What am I supposed to do? Fight it with… calculus?”
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Addison was tapping frantically at her wrist-mounted unit. “Ziggy’s having trouble getting a lock. This energy is… weird, it’s not following any known physical laws. It says you have a… ‘Power Morpher’?” She swiped her hand, projecting a holographic image of a silver device with a golden coin in the center, emblazoned with the image of a Triceratops. “You hold this up, shout ‘Triceratops!’, and… you get a suit? Ben, this is, without a doubt, the weirdest leap yet.”
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Before Ben could process the sheer absurdity of the instruction, a frantic, high-pitched voice called out. “Ai-yi-yi! Zordon, the Rangers are being targeted!”
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A small, red-and-blue robot with a golden saucer for a head scurried into the room, flailing its arms. Ben realized this must be Alpha 5.
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On a large screen above the main console—the Viewing Globe, his host’s mind supplied—an image flickered to life. He saw two goofy-looking teenagers, one heavyset with a bowling shirt and the other wiry with a leather jacket, sneaking around a corner with a large glass prism.
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“Look, Skull,” the bigger one, Bulk, said. “If we can just get a picture of the Rangers without their helmets, we’ll be famous!”
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“Billy,” Zordon’s voice boomed again, “your mission is clear. You must help your friends defeat Photomare and restore the city’s memory.”
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The mission felt straightforward enough, but Addison’s face was grim. “There’s more to it, Ben. Ziggy’s finally getting a bead on the history. Those two guys, Bulk and Skull? They’re the key. They figure out how to defeat the monster with that prism, and in the process, they see the Rangers’ identities. But the prismatic feedback loop that restores the Rangers’ memories specifically wipes theirs. The thing that ‘went wrong’ is that two unlikely heroes are about to have their greatest moment stolen from them.”
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Ben looked from the bumbling duo on the screen to the Power Morpher in his host’s pocket. He had to save the city, embody a superhero, and somehow rewrite the laws of magical light feedback. “Okay,” he sighed. “No pressure.”
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Later, while the other Rangers were gathered around the console planning their attack, Ben-as-Billy subtly broke away, heading to a workbench littered with wires and circuits. He pulled out a tablet, his fingers flying across the screen as he sketched out a complex optical schematic. He couldn’t intervene directly, especially if his own memory was about to be wiped. He had to give the heroes the tool they needed to save themselves.
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“Alpha,” Ben said, adopting the slightly nerdy, confident tone of his host. “I’ve theorized a potential energy feedback from the monster. I need to send an anonymous tip to those two civilians as a precaution. It’s a matter of quantum physics.”
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Alpha 5 tilted his head. “An anonymous tip, Billy? Are you sure that’s wise?”
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“Trust me,” Ben said with a reassuring smile. He sent the message, a simple diagram showing the prism, a secondary shard of glass, and the precise angles needed. The text was simple: “To see the truth, you must bend the light. To keep the truth, you must split it. Aim for the monster, but ground the feedback loop.”
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With the message sent, Ben felt a momentary sense of relief. He turned, only to find the Command Center empty. The other Rangers had already teleported out. He was alone with Alpha and Zordon.
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“Your mind is not of this time, Billy,”
Zordon’s voice echoed softly, losing its booming quality and taking on a knowing, gentle tone. “Or should I say, Dr. Ben Song.”
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Ben froze mid-step, his blood running cold. Addison materialized beside him, her holographic form rigid with shock.
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“How could he know that?” Addison demanded, her voice a fierce whisper.
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“I am a being caught within a timewarp,” Zordon explained patiently. “It affords me a perspective others lack. I can see the strands of reality, and the thread that is Dr. Song shines brightly against the fabric of this era. I can also perceive energies from other timelines…" Looking over at Addison, Zordon said, "Hello, Addison.”
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Ben and Addison stared at the serene face in the tube, completely stunned. For the first time since he’d leaped, someone in the past saw him—truly saw them both. It was a terrifying and profoundly comforting feeling.
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“You know what I’m here to do?” Ben asked.
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“I know what you are trying to achieve,” Zordon clarified. “And I can see that your heart is in the right place. Now go, Dr. Song. Your friends need you.”
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With a nod, Ben raised the morpher. “It’s Morphin Time!” he shouted, feeling a surge of embarrassment followed by an incredible wave of energy. “Triceratops!”
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The battle was chaos. The Photomare monster, a bizarre creature made of lenses and flashing lights, was faster than it looked. One by one, it tagged the Rangers with beams of disorienting light. Ben felt the blast hit him, and the world dissolved into confusion. He looked at the Blue Ranger suit covering his body, at the other costumed figures around him, and felt nothing but a void. “Who are we?” he asked, his voice full of genuine bewilderment. “What are we doing here?”
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Photomare cackled, preparing a final, devastating blast. Just then, the doors to the abandoned warehouse burst open.
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“Not so fast, flashbulb-face!” Bulk yelled, holding the prism high. Skull stood beside him, clutching a jagged piece of a broken bottle.
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“Okay, Skull, just like the weird message said!” Bulk grunted, positioning the prism. “I’ll aim, you hold this piece of junk at… this weird angle!”
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They lined it up. As Photomare fired its beam, it struck the prism and refracted back, a rainbow of pure energy. But just as the diagram showed, a secondary, fainter beam split off from the shard of glass Skull was holding, impacting harmlessly against a metal girder on the floor.
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The monster shrieked as it dissolved into a shower of light. The restorative energy washed over the Power Rangers. Memories came flooding back—their names, their mission, their friendship. And as the haze cleared, they saw Bulk and Skull standing across from them, holding the prism, their faces not blank with confusion, but alight with the incredible, undeniable knowledge of what they had just witnessed.
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Back in the Command Center, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The six Rangers stood before Zordon’s tube. Beside them, looking incredibly out of place, were Bulk and Skull.
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“Their knowledge of your identities poses a great risk to you and to the world,” Zordon stated, his voice once again the commanding boom of a mentor.
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“But Zordon, they saved us!” Kimberly, the Pink Ranger, argued immediately. “We wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for them.”
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“They were brave enough to stand up when we couldn’t,” Tommy, the White Ranger, added, his voice firm. “They’ve earned the right to know. We trust them.”
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The other Rangers voiced their agreement. Bulk and Skull, who had been shifting nervously from foot to foot, looked up, their expressions a mixture of shock and profound gratitude.
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Zordon’s light pulsed thoughtfully for a long moment. “Very well,” he finally conceded. “The secret is yours to share. And a secret shared with allies is a strength, not a weakness. Welcome, friends, to the Power Rangers.”
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Ben stood off to the side with Addison, a wide smile on his face.
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“You did it, Ben,” Addison said softly, her own smile radiant. “You didn’t just fix what went wrong, you made it better.” She glanced at her wrist unit, the data from the new timeline flowing in. “I’m getting a look at the future you’ve created. Bulk and Skull become trusted allies. They start training with the Rangers… they get good, Ben. Really good.”
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“Good enough?” Ben asked, his voice full of hope.
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“More than good enough,” Addison confirmed. “Years from now, a new threat arises, and two new Power Coins are forged when they are needed most. Ziggy’s showing me the colors now…”
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A flash of deep purple and bright orange light pulsed on her unit’s display.
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“They become heroes, Ben. Real ones. All because you were here.”
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As she spoke, the familiar blue quantum energy began to swirl around Ben’s feet, tugging him away from this strange, wonderful timeline. He gave one last look at the newly expanded team of eight heroes, a circle of trust and friendship he had helped make whole, before he was pulled away, leaving behind a stronger, better world.