Guardsman_Sparky
The Clueless Wonder
- Location
- Virginia
Yes, this is exactly why Troll vs Assault happened as it did. Have an Internet cookie my good sir.
Power Rangers: Going Medieval (Worm/Power Rangers)
- Thread starter Guardsman_Sparky
- Start date
-
- Tags
- power rangers worm
- Location
- Little Rock, AR
Taiho. I understand all of this. I just thinks it's bullshit and cheapens the narrative and more importantly cheapens Ranger Red by breaking estabilished abilities, character traits, and rules to artificially and unrealistically build your now effective OCs.
It's shilling by way of Worfing and End-bringer Veteran who used to raid Birdcage transports against his favored opponent in a way that blatantly defies the functions of his powers.
Using Assault as comic relief as a fallguy in a fight doesn't really suit him either. After a fight? Sure comic Assualt recaps are fun. But the Man's an Badass in his own right. Not taking his opponent seriously after he's been in the game as long as he has and after he literally did the impossible or rather the Realm of Alexandria and brute forced his way out of con foam with Squishies around isn't funny it's suicidal. And it got that poor officer folded in half in the wrong way despite Assualt power being to literally make it so that he'd rebound with dude barely stumbling. Or when he was aparently hurt by getting tossed and didn't pop back up.
I know chumping the PRT and procterate despite their abilities is a long and storied tradition that started all the way back in canon. It was terrible back then too and literally murdered their ability to work as antagonists for next to forever.
Beyond that Assualt doesn't need to get punked for Taylor to man up. Troll just has to stay up, and turn the fight from Bingo to fastball and can you keep him from Squishing your officers and any not yet evacced or injured civvies while helps not coming before shit's fucked everywhere else.
Then you can get a cenematic power trio moment while not trying and failing to build it up over the grave of the legitimacy of the Protectorate again.
OverReactionGuy
Verified Sanity
-sighs-
Just because Assualt is a pro, or a hero does not mean he can't fuck up from time to time. Just because his power is kinetic manipulation or whatever, does not mean he could have gotten a good hit on the fast regenerating troll that got stronger in a fight in a way Lung does, and last time I checked he lost just like the others to Lung. Which the troll was like, which was even said in his description.
Also, he technically wasn't defeated, just thrown into the air and landing far away enough he could just up and run back to the troll and kick his ass.
Now Larekko, I am not going to argue with you about this. I am just pointing out other people have different opinions and other people read things differently from you. Also, you tend to always complain even if a minor detail doesn't match up to what you think, and then make a huge deal out of it when it really isn't important to the story.
Which tends to annoy authors that are writing stories for free. This is also fanfiction, everything doesn't need to be perfect.
I do get your point though. But that doesn't mean there wasn't other things going on in the scene that we don't know about, that the author was going to explain in later chapters, but I am going to point something else out to you.
I also been very nitpicky before, complaining about scenes in the story that didn't make sense, didn't follow the logic I use, or just plain wouldn't work.
Every story that I've done that too? They no longer update on SV, but were updating on SB where I do not have an account.
So please just cool down a tad. I rather that not happen to this story because I find it entertaining.
And it being entertaining is all that matters.
-edit-
Probably too late to the party to point this out, but meh. My point still stands.
Just because Assualt is a pro, or a hero does not mean he can't fuck up from time to time. Just because his power is kinetic manipulation or whatever, does not mean he could have gotten a good hit on the fast regenerating troll that got stronger in a fight in a way Lung does, and last time I checked he lost just like the others to Lung. Which the troll was like, which was even said in his description.
Also, he technically wasn't defeated, just thrown into the air and landing far away enough he could just up and run back to the troll and kick his ass.
Now Larekko, I am not going to argue with you about this. I am just pointing out other people have different opinions and other people read things differently from you. Also, you tend to always complain even if a minor detail doesn't match up to what you think, and then make a huge deal out of it when it really isn't important to the story.
Which tends to annoy authors that are writing stories for free. This is also fanfiction, everything doesn't need to be perfect.
I do get your point though. But that doesn't mean there wasn't other things going on in the scene that we don't know about, that the author was going to explain in later chapters, but I am going to point something else out to you.
I also been very nitpicky before, complaining about scenes in the story that didn't make sense, didn't follow the logic I use, or just plain wouldn't work.
Every story that I've done that too? They no longer update on SV, but were updating on SB where I do not have an account.
So please just cool down a tad. I rather that not happen to this story because I find it entertaining.
And it being entertaining is all that matters.
-edit-
Probably too late to the party to point this out, but meh. My point still stands.
Last edited:
Morph 1.3
Guardsman_Sparky
The Clueless Wonder
- Location
- Virginia
Morph 1.3
"And if you'll sign here, initial here…and that should be that." The City Hall official took the thick stack of paperwork and drawled sardonically. "Congratulations, Mr. Hebert. It's a girl." With an unenthusiastic flair, the official tossed a handful of confetti—a clump of paper pulled from the shredder bin—into the air and left the office.
Daniel "Danny" Hebert massaged his sore wrist. It seemed like only yesterday that his daughter came in the back door with a confession and a twelve-year old blonde in tow. He shook his head. Three weeks, and that still amused him, somehow. To think, his little girl—little girls—were parahumans, capes, just like…
His train of thought was derailed by an inquisitive little blonde. "Is-is it done?" Previously nodding off, Taylor jolted back into awareness as the antsy Riley nearly squeaked in anticipation.
Danny nodded. "Yep, sure is. Welcome to the family Riley." He let out his breath with a 'wumf' as Riley glomped him. "Whoa, easy there." Letting Taylor pry a reluctant Riley off of him, Danny hauled himself to his feet. "C'mon, let's go get lunch." Collecting his cane, Danny hobbled out the door. "Who wants Fugly Bob's?"
" "I do!" "
---
"Eurgh," Danny groaned as he stared down at the remains of his 5Ib burger, fries, and onion ring combo. "Why did I let you two talk me into getting the challenger?"
Taylor smiled innocently as she finished her much more reasonably sized quarter-pounder. "Because you haven't figured out how to say no to Riley's puppy dog eyes yet?"
Danny ignored said blonde's giggles as he gave a small burp. "Ah well, the doctor did tell me I need to gain a few pounds." It was true, the father reflected. He had been neglecting himself ever since…for a while now, so his normally lean and lanky figure had taken more of a skeletal (not quite right, but he didn't have the right words for it) bent. The Fugly Bob's Challenger probably wasn't what Doc Hartman had in mind when he told Danny to gain some weight, but…eh.
The single father looked at his daughters, a smile on his face as he watched the two giggle over something, probably a cute boy or something. He had to admit, he hadn't been sure what to think when Taylor had brought home a homeless preteen girl. He had still been in his years long funk then, and more than once he had considered eating the business end of a gun. But the innocent exuberance of Riley—despite all she'd been through—and the revelation that Annette's Little Owl had triggered had awoken something within him that he thought long dead. Hope.
'What a fool I was, to think I had lost everything, when everything was in front of me the whole time.'
Deafening thunder shook the restaurant, eliciting screams from various customers and employees. A moment later, the burning frame of a car crashed into the street outside. Thunder cracked, the windows shuttering in their frames at the sheer volume. With a flash of light, everything was bleached a whitish-blue as the loudest thunderclap yet sent cracks spider-webbing across the windows. As the world regained color, a figure trailing faint smoke shot through the air and down the street.
Taylor and Riley turned to Danny. Danny looked at them in trepidation, before collapsing in on himself with a sigh. "Go. Be careful."
As the two girls ran to change—to morph, Danny corrected—determination flowed through the father's veins. He would be there for them, come hell or high water.
He just needed to get back into shape.
---
James Cho was not having a good day. It started as they usually did: his stepfather Johnathan Park getting drunk and screaming obscenities at him, and his mother Jenny Cho leaving for work. It was always the same. Drunken screaming, mother gone, he'd leave the house for school, hanging out at the mall, etc. etc. Then, when he'd get home, Park would be there, apologizing tearfully in a drunken haze as Jenny sat on the couch in a drug induced stupor, her clothes rumpled and make-up marred by tears.
There were grounds, once he'd gained powers, for why James had it out for the ABB. He knew the unspoken reason his mother would sometimes return home with a split lip or black eye, just as there was a reason the Park-Cho family paid less in 'protection' than their neighbors did.
Gaining powers had been liberating. As James, he'd always been week, small, unimportant. But as the independent biokinetic brute Browbeat, he was big. He was strong. He was somebody.
But deep down, a part of James loathed himself, because he knew that he'd never be strong enough to free his mother from the suffering she went through for her family.
Today just served as a reminder of that. As was quickly becoming routine, Browbeat had gone on patrol, found an Azn Bad Boyz drug house, and smashed through the front door to wreck their day. Unfortunately, that was where routine quickly ceased to be.
That particular drug house had housed Raijin, the ABB's self-proclaimed "God of Lightning." A more sadistic and trigger happy individual one would be hard pressed to find. Their fight had been long and arduous, and eventually Raijin got bored and simply blasted the hero into submission.
Browbeat gasped for breath, his muscles seizing and twitching from the massive electrical shock he had received. Climbing to his hands and knees, James vomited, his stomach rebelling violently at the electric assault it had endured. Browbeat looked up as two electric blue boots came into view.
Raijin's red, sneering kabuki mask peered down at the downed hero from under a large, conical straw hat. A derisive chuckle echoed out from behind the mask. "Oh, you poor, deluded fool, to think you could stand against the might of the storm." The sadistic villain crouched down and grabbed Browbeat's face with both hands. The hero screamed in agony as Raijin ran a current through his head.
Allowing the hero to collapse to the street, Raijin stood and strode away a short distance. An arriving police car was absently struck by a bolt of lightning, the two officers within seizing and convulsing as if tazered. Ignoring the patrol car as it crashed into a lamppost, Raijin conjured a pulsating ball of incandescent energy in his hand. "Allow me to show you the power of Yakusa no ikazuchi no kami."
A sadistic light entered the villainous cape's eyes as he centered in on the terrified faces looking out at him from the windows of Fugly Bob's. Thrusting out his arm, Raijin fired upon the restaurant.
An explosion rocked the street as two streaks, one red and one pink, intercepted the incandescent bolt of plasma.
Raijin's head tilted to the side. "Hmm, that doesn't usually happen."
The smoke cleared to reveal the Red and Pink Rangers. Red Ranger pointed her sword at Raijin. "Surrender, or we won't hesitate to hurt you."
Mad laughter met the ultimatum, lightning crackling around the mad villain. "You? Hurt me? Bwahahaha!" The eyes of Raijin's mask glowed a brilliant blue. "I will enjoy making you scream!"
Lightning streaked towards the two Rangers, impacting the sidewalk between them as they dodged to the sides. Raijin blasted at Riley, only to be slashed across the back by Taylor. Roaring in pain and anger, Raijin turned to retaliate against the Red Ranger, only to be hit from behind by the Pink. Screaming in rage as the two Rangers continued this strategy, Raijin squared his feet and flexed.
An explosion of electricity radiated from the enraged villain, shocking the Rangers viciously and tossing them across the street. Raijin seethed, steam curling from his body where he had been hit by the Rangers' swords. He pointed at the downed heroes. "You. I shall make your deaths excruciating." His fingers curled into the shape of a gun. "Die."
A jagged bolt of red lightning shot from Raijin's finger like a rabid beast. It hurtled towards the two chromatic heroes.
"NO!"
At the last moment, the red thunderbolt was intercepted as Browbeat threw himself into the bolt's path. With a scream of pain, Browbeat was knocked off his feet. He groaned pitifully.
"No! How can he be alive? That's not possible!"
Getting to one knee, Taylor snarled at the sparking Raijin. The villain was currently throwing a fit over his failure to kill them and Browbeat, and appeared to be having a mental breakdown as well. "We need to take him down before he kills someone." She looked at Riley. "You okay, Pink?" Getting a nod, Taylor turned to Browbeat. "How about you? You alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Browbeat replied, just slightly woozily.
"Good, we could use your help."
Browbeat shook his head. "I don't think I'll be any help. Nothing I can do phases him, I've tried."
Taylor put her hand on Browbeat's shoulder to say something, but froze as a spark went up her spine. So, instead, she reached under her tabard and pulled out a green and white device. She pressed it into Browbeat's hand. "Here, this might help. The activation code is 'going medieval.'"
"'Going medieval?'"
There was a flash of green light—
---
—and Browbeat felt utterly alone, like he would never be whole again—
---
James walked down a corridor made of grey stone, the hall lit by candles and sunlight shining through arrowslits down low and stain-glass windows up high. At the end of the hall was an archway filled with white light. Behind the teen, a storm of leaves came roaring from around the corner. James walked on, unheeding of the fluttering foliage. The storm of leaves began to spiral around the boy. Where the leaves passed, James' body was covered in a gunmetal grey bodysuit that shone bright with a small hexagonal pattern. As he continued to walk, his forearms and lower legs were covered in thick layers of leaves before the leaves scattered, leaving green, greave-like boots and green, gauntlet-like gloves with white trim. The leaves curled around James' torso, leaving behind a short, green tabard with a white bear coat-of-arms, secured around the waist with a white belt. The storm of leaves reared up and formed the open maw of a raging bear that came barreling down on James. As the jaws closed around his head, the leaves scattered, revealing a black-visored green helmet reminiscent of a Greathelm. With a final step, James stepped out of the corridor and into the light.
---
—when a warm feeling of peace and acceptance filled him, leaving behind a joy and an inner strength that he had not felt in a very long time.
---
—and Browbeat stared down at his hands in amazement. He felt strong, stronger than he'd ever felt before, even when he'd bulked up his muscles to ludicrous sizes. It was…it was…
"Amazing, isn't it?"
Browbeat turned to see the Red Ranger staring at him. "It is. Who-who are you?"
"We're the Power Rangers." The Red Ranger stood up and held out a hand. "So. Feel like giving it another go?"
Browbeat looked at the hand, then took it in his own and let himself be hauled to his feet. "Yeah, I do. Call me Browbeat."
Unfortunately, the flash of green light from Browbeat morphing had caught Raijin's attention. "Raagh! I don't care if you made a costume change! I'll kill you!"
The Rangers brandished their swords, even Browbeat, though he had to stare at his in befuddlement for a moment. Raijin blasted the street behind himself with lightning, launching himself at the three heroes. Charging his fists, he brought them together and tried to smash the Rangers. The Rangers dodged though, the asphalt shattered by the miss.
As the fight went on, Raijin grew angrier and angrier. The Red one was skilled, every lightning bolt thrown her way being absorbed or deflected by that damnable sword. The Pink one was zipping back and forth, always never where she was a moment ago when he'd bring a fist full of lightning down upon her. And the Green one, the one known as Browbeat, simply took the hits he gave the hero like they were nothing!
With a scream of rage, Raijin blew the Rangers back with a pulse of electricity. "Enough! I will destroy you utterly!" With an inarticulate, strangled screech, Raijin slammed a fist into the torn up asphalt of the street. Pulling up a power cable, the insane villain tore the black cord in half.
Insane laughter filled the air as Raijin began to absorb the high voltage energy. His form glowed white, until white was all there was, and began to grow.
Red Ranger took a step back. Already Raijin was twice the size he had been before. "What is it with people getting bigger in this city?"
Pink Ranger looked nervous. "Um, Red? I don't think the Final Slash is going to work on him."
Browbeat looked around. There had to be something…hello. He turned to the other Rangers. "I have an idea."
Running over to a fire hydrant, Browbeat sliced the top off and took a step back from the resulting geyser. Grabbing the top of the hydrant, Browbeat increased his muscle mass. He crushed the top of the hydrant, turning a vertical geyser into a directed stream. A stream of water aimed directly at Raijin.
"A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-i-i-i-i-i-i-a-i-a-ia-h!" Raijin screamed, a stilted, stuttering thing as the water gushing out of the hydrant hit him, overloading his powers in a painful manner. The towering construct of electrical energy fluctuated violently, before shrinking in on itself and exploding. When the smoke cleared, Raijin could be seen lying face down on the street, smoking form unconscious.
With a sigh of relief, Browbeat crushed the hydrant shut and went over to the other Rangers. He looked Red in the visor. "Is…is it always like this, this…feeling?"
"You mean the feeling of being a part of something incomprehensibly greater?" Browbeat nodded. "Yes, it is. Exhilarating, isn't it?"
"Yes," Browbeat almost shuddered. It was, unlike anything had been before, but not to the point he couldn't live without it. James thought that might have terrified him had that been the case. "I wish it could be like this all the time."
Red seemed to hesitate. "It could be. If you wanted."
Browbeat paused. "Was that an offer to join your group?"
If it was possible, Browbeat would have thought Red Ranger's helmet was blushing. "Yes?"
A green gloved hand was held out. "I'd be honored."
A red gloved hand accepted the handshake. "Thanks Browbeat."
Browbeat smiled. "Call me Green Ranger."
---
Danny looked forlornly at the bill as he stepped out of Fugly Bob's, now that the authorities had deemed the area safe enough. "Dad!"
Danny looked up. "Oh, Taylor, Riley!" The dock worker took his daughters up in a hug. "Oh, I'm so glad you're okay, I was so worried about you."
Taylor smacked Danny's shoulder playfully. "Dad~, you were watching the whole thing from the window."
"Doesn't mean I can't still worry." Danny looked over his daughter's shoulders. "And who's this?"
Taylor turned to the boy behind them, Riley preoccupied with hugging their dad's leg. "This is James Cho."
Danny nodded. "He your new 'friend?'"
Riley nodded, arms still clamped around Danny's leg. "Yup. He's really strong."
James held a hand out. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Hebert."
"Please, call me Danny," he replied. "Only people I don't like have to call me Mr. Hebert. So," Danny put a hand on James' shoulder and began to walk down the street. "Tell me about yourself."
James gulped nervously. Something about that tone. "Well, where do I start?"
"And if you'll sign here, initial here…and that should be that." The City Hall official took the thick stack of paperwork and drawled sardonically. "Congratulations, Mr. Hebert. It's a girl." With an unenthusiastic flair, the official tossed a handful of confetti—a clump of paper pulled from the shredder bin—into the air and left the office.
Daniel "Danny" Hebert massaged his sore wrist. It seemed like only yesterday that his daughter came in the back door with a confession and a twelve-year old blonde in tow. He shook his head. Three weeks, and that still amused him, somehow. To think, his little girl—little girls—were parahumans, capes, just like…
His train of thought was derailed by an inquisitive little blonde. "Is-is it done?" Previously nodding off, Taylor jolted back into awareness as the antsy Riley nearly squeaked in anticipation.
Danny nodded. "Yep, sure is. Welcome to the family Riley." He let out his breath with a 'wumf' as Riley glomped him. "Whoa, easy there." Letting Taylor pry a reluctant Riley off of him, Danny hauled himself to his feet. "C'mon, let's go get lunch." Collecting his cane, Danny hobbled out the door. "Who wants Fugly Bob's?"
" "I do!" "
---
"Eurgh," Danny groaned as he stared down at the remains of his 5Ib burger, fries, and onion ring combo. "Why did I let you two talk me into getting the challenger?"
Taylor smiled innocently as she finished her much more reasonably sized quarter-pounder. "Because you haven't figured out how to say no to Riley's puppy dog eyes yet?"
Danny ignored said blonde's giggles as he gave a small burp. "Ah well, the doctor did tell me I need to gain a few pounds." It was true, the father reflected. He had been neglecting himself ever since…for a while now, so his normally lean and lanky figure had taken more of a skeletal (not quite right, but he didn't have the right words for it) bent. The Fugly Bob's Challenger probably wasn't what Doc Hartman had in mind when he told Danny to gain some weight, but…eh.
The single father looked at his daughters, a smile on his face as he watched the two giggle over something, probably a cute boy or something. He had to admit, he hadn't been sure what to think when Taylor had brought home a homeless preteen girl. He had still been in his years long funk then, and more than once he had considered eating the business end of a gun. But the innocent exuberance of Riley—despite all she'd been through—and the revelation that Annette's Little Owl had triggered had awoken something within him that he thought long dead. Hope.
'What a fool I was, to think I had lost everything, when everything was in front of me the whole time.'
Deafening thunder shook the restaurant, eliciting screams from various customers and employees. A moment later, the burning frame of a car crashed into the street outside. Thunder cracked, the windows shuttering in their frames at the sheer volume. With a flash of light, everything was bleached a whitish-blue as the loudest thunderclap yet sent cracks spider-webbing across the windows. As the world regained color, a figure trailing faint smoke shot through the air and down the street.
Taylor and Riley turned to Danny. Danny looked at them in trepidation, before collapsing in on himself with a sigh. "Go. Be careful."
As the two girls ran to change—to morph, Danny corrected—determination flowed through the father's veins. He would be there for them, come hell or high water.
He just needed to get back into shape.
---
James Cho was not having a good day. It started as they usually did: his stepfather Johnathan Park getting drunk and screaming obscenities at him, and his mother Jenny Cho leaving for work. It was always the same. Drunken screaming, mother gone, he'd leave the house for school, hanging out at the mall, etc. etc. Then, when he'd get home, Park would be there, apologizing tearfully in a drunken haze as Jenny sat on the couch in a drug induced stupor, her clothes rumpled and make-up marred by tears.
There were grounds, once he'd gained powers, for why James had it out for the ABB. He knew the unspoken reason his mother would sometimes return home with a split lip or black eye, just as there was a reason the Park-Cho family paid less in 'protection' than their neighbors did.
Gaining powers had been liberating. As James, he'd always been week, small, unimportant. But as the independent biokinetic brute Browbeat, he was big. He was strong. He was somebody.
But deep down, a part of James loathed himself, because he knew that he'd never be strong enough to free his mother from the suffering she went through for her family.
Today just served as a reminder of that. As was quickly becoming routine, Browbeat had gone on patrol, found an Azn Bad Boyz drug house, and smashed through the front door to wreck their day. Unfortunately, that was where routine quickly ceased to be.
That particular drug house had housed Raijin, the ABB's self-proclaimed "God of Lightning." A more sadistic and trigger happy individual one would be hard pressed to find. Their fight had been long and arduous, and eventually Raijin got bored and simply blasted the hero into submission.
Browbeat gasped for breath, his muscles seizing and twitching from the massive electrical shock he had received. Climbing to his hands and knees, James vomited, his stomach rebelling violently at the electric assault it had endured. Browbeat looked up as two electric blue boots came into view.
Raijin's red, sneering kabuki mask peered down at the downed hero from under a large, conical straw hat. A derisive chuckle echoed out from behind the mask. "Oh, you poor, deluded fool, to think you could stand against the might of the storm." The sadistic villain crouched down and grabbed Browbeat's face with both hands. The hero screamed in agony as Raijin ran a current through his head.
Allowing the hero to collapse to the street, Raijin stood and strode away a short distance. An arriving police car was absently struck by a bolt of lightning, the two officers within seizing and convulsing as if tazered. Ignoring the patrol car as it crashed into a lamppost, Raijin conjured a pulsating ball of incandescent energy in his hand. "Allow me to show you the power of Yakusa no ikazuchi no kami."
A sadistic light entered the villainous cape's eyes as he centered in on the terrified faces looking out at him from the windows of Fugly Bob's. Thrusting out his arm, Raijin fired upon the restaurant.
An explosion rocked the street as two streaks, one red and one pink, intercepted the incandescent bolt of plasma.
Raijin's head tilted to the side. "Hmm, that doesn't usually happen."
The smoke cleared to reveal the Red and Pink Rangers. Red Ranger pointed her sword at Raijin. "Surrender, or we won't hesitate to hurt you."
Mad laughter met the ultimatum, lightning crackling around the mad villain. "You? Hurt me? Bwahahaha!" The eyes of Raijin's mask glowed a brilliant blue. "I will enjoy making you scream!"
Lightning streaked towards the two Rangers, impacting the sidewalk between them as they dodged to the sides. Raijin blasted at Riley, only to be slashed across the back by Taylor. Roaring in pain and anger, Raijin turned to retaliate against the Red Ranger, only to be hit from behind by the Pink. Screaming in rage as the two Rangers continued this strategy, Raijin squared his feet and flexed.
An explosion of electricity radiated from the enraged villain, shocking the Rangers viciously and tossing them across the street. Raijin seethed, steam curling from his body where he had been hit by the Rangers' swords. He pointed at the downed heroes. "You. I shall make your deaths excruciating." His fingers curled into the shape of a gun. "Die."
A jagged bolt of red lightning shot from Raijin's finger like a rabid beast. It hurtled towards the two chromatic heroes.
"NO!"
At the last moment, the red thunderbolt was intercepted as Browbeat threw himself into the bolt's path. With a scream of pain, Browbeat was knocked off his feet. He groaned pitifully.
"No! How can he be alive? That's not possible!"
Getting to one knee, Taylor snarled at the sparking Raijin. The villain was currently throwing a fit over his failure to kill them and Browbeat, and appeared to be having a mental breakdown as well. "We need to take him down before he kills someone." She looked at Riley. "You okay, Pink?" Getting a nod, Taylor turned to Browbeat. "How about you? You alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Browbeat replied, just slightly woozily.
"Good, we could use your help."
Browbeat shook his head. "I don't think I'll be any help. Nothing I can do phases him, I've tried."
Taylor put her hand on Browbeat's shoulder to say something, but froze as a spark went up her spine. So, instead, she reached under her tabard and pulled out a green and white device. She pressed it into Browbeat's hand. "Here, this might help. The activation code is 'going medieval.'"
"'Going medieval?'"
There was a flash of green light—
---
—and Browbeat felt utterly alone, like he would never be whole again—
---
James walked down a corridor made of grey stone, the hall lit by candles and sunlight shining through arrowslits down low and stain-glass windows up high. At the end of the hall was an archway filled with white light. Behind the teen, a storm of leaves came roaring from around the corner. James walked on, unheeding of the fluttering foliage. The storm of leaves began to spiral around the boy. Where the leaves passed, James' body was covered in a gunmetal grey bodysuit that shone bright with a small hexagonal pattern. As he continued to walk, his forearms and lower legs were covered in thick layers of leaves before the leaves scattered, leaving green, greave-like boots and green, gauntlet-like gloves with white trim. The leaves curled around James' torso, leaving behind a short, green tabard with a white bear coat-of-arms, secured around the waist with a white belt. The storm of leaves reared up and formed the open maw of a raging bear that came barreling down on James. As the jaws closed around his head, the leaves scattered, revealing a black-visored green helmet reminiscent of a Greathelm. With a final step, James stepped out of the corridor and into the light.
---
—when a warm feeling of peace and acceptance filled him, leaving behind a joy and an inner strength that he had not felt in a very long time.
---
—and Browbeat stared down at his hands in amazement. He felt strong, stronger than he'd ever felt before, even when he'd bulked up his muscles to ludicrous sizes. It was…it was…
"Amazing, isn't it?"
Browbeat turned to see the Red Ranger staring at him. "It is. Who-who are you?"
"We're the Power Rangers." The Red Ranger stood up and held out a hand. "So. Feel like giving it another go?"
Browbeat looked at the hand, then took it in his own and let himself be hauled to his feet. "Yeah, I do. Call me Browbeat."
Unfortunately, the flash of green light from Browbeat morphing had caught Raijin's attention. "Raagh! I don't care if you made a costume change! I'll kill you!"
The Rangers brandished their swords, even Browbeat, though he had to stare at his in befuddlement for a moment. Raijin blasted the street behind himself with lightning, launching himself at the three heroes. Charging his fists, he brought them together and tried to smash the Rangers. The Rangers dodged though, the asphalt shattered by the miss.
As the fight went on, Raijin grew angrier and angrier. The Red one was skilled, every lightning bolt thrown her way being absorbed or deflected by that damnable sword. The Pink one was zipping back and forth, always never where she was a moment ago when he'd bring a fist full of lightning down upon her. And the Green one, the one known as Browbeat, simply took the hits he gave the hero like they were nothing!
With a scream of rage, Raijin blew the Rangers back with a pulse of electricity. "Enough! I will destroy you utterly!" With an inarticulate, strangled screech, Raijin slammed a fist into the torn up asphalt of the street. Pulling up a power cable, the insane villain tore the black cord in half.
Insane laughter filled the air as Raijin began to absorb the high voltage energy. His form glowed white, until white was all there was, and began to grow.
Red Ranger took a step back. Already Raijin was twice the size he had been before. "What is it with people getting bigger in this city?"
Pink Ranger looked nervous. "Um, Red? I don't think the Final Slash is going to work on him."
Browbeat looked around. There had to be something…hello. He turned to the other Rangers. "I have an idea."
Running over to a fire hydrant, Browbeat sliced the top off and took a step back from the resulting geyser. Grabbing the top of the hydrant, Browbeat increased his muscle mass. He crushed the top of the hydrant, turning a vertical geyser into a directed stream. A stream of water aimed directly at Raijin.
"A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-i-i-i-i-i-i-a-i-a-ia-h!" Raijin screamed, a stilted, stuttering thing as the water gushing out of the hydrant hit him, overloading his powers in a painful manner. The towering construct of electrical energy fluctuated violently, before shrinking in on itself and exploding. When the smoke cleared, Raijin could be seen lying face down on the street, smoking form unconscious.
With a sigh of relief, Browbeat crushed the hydrant shut and went over to the other Rangers. He looked Red in the visor. "Is…is it always like this, this…feeling?"
"You mean the feeling of being a part of something incomprehensibly greater?" Browbeat nodded. "Yes, it is. Exhilarating, isn't it?"
"Yes," Browbeat almost shuddered. It was, unlike anything had been before, but not to the point he couldn't live without it. James thought that might have terrified him had that been the case. "I wish it could be like this all the time."
Red seemed to hesitate. "It could be. If you wanted."
Browbeat paused. "Was that an offer to join your group?"
If it was possible, Browbeat would have thought Red Ranger's helmet was blushing. "Yes?"
A green gloved hand was held out. "I'd be honored."
A red gloved hand accepted the handshake. "Thanks Browbeat."
Browbeat smiled. "Call me Green Ranger."
---
Danny looked forlornly at the bill as he stepped out of Fugly Bob's, now that the authorities had deemed the area safe enough. "Dad!"
Danny looked up. "Oh, Taylor, Riley!" The dock worker took his daughters up in a hug. "Oh, I'm so glad you're okay, I was so worried about you."
Taylor smacked Danny's shoulder playfully. "Dad~, you were watching the whole thing from the window."
"Doesn't mean I can't still worry." Danny looked over his daughter's shoulders. "And who's this?"
Taylor turned to the boy behind them, Riley preoccupied with hugging their dad's leg. "This is James Cho."
Danny nodded. "He your new 'friend?'"
Riley nodded, arms still clamped around Danny's leg. "Yup. He's really strong."
James held a hand out. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Hebert."
"Please, call me Danny," he replied. "Only people I don't like have to call me Mr. Hebert. So," Danny put a hand on James' shoulder and began to walk down the street. "Tell me about yourself."
James gulped nervously. Something about that tone. "Well, where do I start?"
OverReactionGuy
Verified Sanity
Ah, the dad tone.
A Glimpse into the Future
Guardsman_Sparky
The Clueless Wonder
- Location
- Virginia
A Glimpse into the Future
Taylor, morphed as the Red Ranger, sat down at her console and ran her fingers expertly over the controls. Above her, a large screen came to life.
Looking up at the screen, Taylor saw that several helmeted faces were looking back at her. "Alright, monthly status check, how's everyone doing?" A chorus of positive replies met her. "Okay then, let's get to it. Miami?"
A red helmet styled after a T-Rex bobbed. "We had a few problems a week ago with Sorceress and Sphynx, but nothing we couldn't handle."
Taylor nodded. "Good to hear. Seattle?"
A man with a red, militaristic helmet lifted a hand and waggled it side to side. "Eh, we're still dealing with backlash from Alpha Squad's actions last month, but it's getting better. We also managed to capture one of Grime's lieutenants and hand him over to the PRT."
"Good," Taylor sighed. "Sorry to hear about your PR problems. Austin, status?"
A man in a black helmet shook his head. "Mezogog continues to elude capture, but we did manage to put down one of his terrorsaurs last Tuesday. We also found what we think is one of his abandoned hideouts."
"Alright, keep it up, stay safe. Milwaukee?"
"We had to stop Venjix from breaking into Madison again," replied a man with a red helmet styled after a falcon. "We think she may be a Simurgh thrall, but we can't be sure."
"Alright, coordinate with the local Protectorate, see if you can't run that by some of their thinkers. San Francisco?"
A man in red whose visor resembled a fire department shield responded. "We've found evidence that Olympius and his cohorts may be Case 53s. If so, they might not be fully culpable for their actions."
"Okay, look into that, and tell Green to stop sending me flowers. Sydney?"
A small, misshapen man in a cloak answered. "This is Keeper. We recently were able to take one of Sledge's goons captive, and have a tentative location for his hide out. We intend to-"
A klaxon cut off the Case 53 mid-sentence as red strobes began to flash. Taylor pressed a button, minimizing the open communications window and calling up the alert status screen.
[EMERGENCY TRANSMISSION]
The red notification was quickly replaced by a map of northern Canada. An archive photo of a red and silver helmet was connected by a line to a pulsing red dot. Taylor pressed the transmit button. "This is Ranger Ops. Commence with emergency transmission."
"This is Operation Overdrive! Behemoth is on the move. Initial estimates place his course on a direct route with Yellowstone National Park. ETA at current known velocity is just under five hours!"
Taylor grit her teeth as breath was suddenly stole away from her. She took a deep breath. "Roger that Overdrive. Continue to monitor Behemoth's course and inform Dragon. Standby for further instruction."
"Roger. Operation Overdrive, out."
As the communications screen exited, several more communications channels were opened. "Endwatch, Endtimes protocols. Report!"
A map of Hawaii and a picture of a green and gold helmet with a 4-point star visor popped up. "Ninja Storm, Cam speaking. All quiet here. Leviathan seems to be playing with a pod of whales."
The map shrunk into a corner and was replaced by one of the Moon, two pictures of red helmets alongside it. "Rangers Space here. The Simurgh appears to be dormant facing Japan."
"Lost Galaxy here. Confirm Simurgh status. No mental contamination of Observation team detected."
Taylor nodded sharply in assent. "Good. Stay sharp, stay safe, keep us posted." Dismissing the Endwatch windows, Taylor stabbed her finger down onto a particular button.
"Priority alert! All Rangers, Behemoth is on the move, heading for Yellowstone National Park! Estimated time to arrival is five hours. This is not a drill! All available Rangers, report to the designated staging areas and prep your Zords!" Swallowing the lump in her throat, Taylor let out a breath. "Stay safe people, Ranger Ops, Out!"
As the display lit up with alerts and updates, Taylor stood up and made for the door. She had a Zord to prepare.
Taylor, morphed as the Red Ranger, sat down at her console and ran her fingers expertly over the controls. Above her, a large screen came to life.
Looking up at the screen, Taylor saw that several helmeted faces were looking back at her. "Alright, monthly status check, how's everyone doing?" A chorus of positive replies met her. "Okay then, let's get to it. Miami?"
A red helmet styled after a T-Rex bobbed. "We had a few problems a week ago with Sorceress and Sphynx, but nothing we couldn't handle."
Taylor nodded. "Good to hear. Seattle?"
A man with a red, militaristic helmet lifted a hand and waggled it side to side. "Eh, we're still dealing with backlash from Alpha Squad's actions last month, but it's getting better. We also managed to capture one of Grime's lieutenants and hand him over to the PRT."
"Good," Taylor sighed. "Sorry to hear about your PR problems. Austin, status?"
A man in a black helmet shook his head. "Mezogog continues to elude capture, but we did manage to put down one of his terrorsaurs last Tuesday. We also found what we think is one of his abandoned hideouts."
"Alright, keep it up, stay safe. Milwaukee?"
"We had to stop Venjix from breaking into Madison again," replied a man with a red helmet styled after a falcon. "We think she may be a Simurgh thrall, but we can't be sure."
"Alright, coordinate with the local Protectorate, see if you can't run that by some of their thinkers. San Francisco?"
A man in red whose visor resembled a fire department shield responded. "We've found evidence that Olympius and his cohorts may be Case 53s. If so, they might not be fully culpable for their actions."
"Okay, look into that, and tell Green to stop sending me flowers. Sydney?"
A small, misshapen man in a cloak answered. "This is Keeper. We recently were able to take one of Sledge's goons captive, and have a tentative location for his hide out. We intend to-"
A klaxon cut off the Case 53 mid-sentence as red strobes began to flash. Taylor pressed a button, minimizing the open communications window and calling up the alert status screen.
[EMERGENCY TRANSMISSION]
The red notification was quickly replaced by a map of northern Canada. An archive photo of a red and silver helmet was connected by a line to a pulsing red dot. Taylor pressed the transmit button. "This is Ranger Ops. Commence with emergency transmission."
"This is Operation Overdrive! Behemoth is on the move. Initial estimates place his course on a direct route with Yellowstone National Park. ETA at current known velocity is just under five hours!"
Taylor grit her teeth as breath was suddenly stole away from her. She took a deep breath. "Roger that Overdrive. Continue to monitor Behemoth's course and inform Dragon. Standby for further instruction."
"Roger. Operation Overdrive, out."
As the communications screen exited, several more communications channels were opened. "Endwatch, Endtimes protocols. Report!"
A map of Hawaii and a picture of a green and gold helmet with a 4-point star visor popped up. "Ninja Storm, Cam speaking. All quiet here. Leviathan seems to be playing with a pod of whales."
The map shrunk into a corner and was replaced by one of the Moon, two pictures of red helmets alongside it. "Rangers Space here. The Simurgh appears to be dormant facing Japan."
"Lost Galaxy here. Confirm Simurgh status. No mental contamination of Observation team detected."
Taylor nodded sharply in assent. "Good. Stay sharp, stay safe, keep us posted." Dismissing the Endwatch windows, Taylor stabbed her finger down onto a particular button.
"Priority alert! All Rangers, Behemoth is on the move, heading for Yellowstone National Park! Estimated time to arrival is five hours. This is not a drill! All available Rangers, report to the designated staging areas and prep your Zords!" Swallowing the lump in her throat, Taylor let out a breath. "Stay safe people, Ranger Ops, Out!"
As the display lit up with alerts and updates, Taylor stood up and made for the door. She had a Zord to prepare.
Morph 1.4
Guardsman_Sparky
The Clueless Wonder
- Location
- Virginia
AN: Happy Birthday to me! With my birthday tomorrow, I've decided to give you guys this chapter a bit early as an early birthday present from me to you. Enjoy.
Danny was awoken by a sharp knocking on his bedroom door. "Heh? Wuzzit?"
"Dad?" It was Taylor, some distant part of his mind recognized groggily. "You told me to wake you up before I left for school? Well, I'm heading to school."
Blearily, Danny pushed himself upright, blinking in confusion. It was his day off, why did he ask Taylor to…oh, right. Dragging a hand down his face with a groan, Danny let out a resigned puff of air. "Thanks Kiddo. Have a good day at school."
Rubbing his cheeks, Danny checked his nightstand clock. Half an hour before Riley would be up and getting ready for her day at school. That was plenty of time.
Leaning over, Danny reached under the bed and picked up the prosthetic leg there. Pressing it to the stump just below his left knee, the union man grimaced in discomfort as the prosthetic latched into place, a pneumatic bladder sealing the fake limb in place.
Standing up, Danny tested the joints of his prosthetic, as was his wont every morning. Tinkertech derived though the fake leg might be, Danny had never quite become used to the prosthetic, even if the sensors within provided some semblance of pressure and feeling in his missing limb.
His usual check done, Danny stood up, only to let himself fall forward, catching himself on his hands before his face met the floor.
Back straight, Danny let his arms bend, slowly bringing him down to the floor before pushing himself back up.
'One.'
In a dark room was a man, intricate dragon tattoos dancing and twirling across his bare chest. He sat, carelessly lounging in a well-worn Laz-E-Boy chair, the soft lighting glinting off the metal dragon mask that covered everything but his mouth. Around the room, several men and women stood against the walls, with only the wall containing a large plasma-screen television vacant of any bodies.
No one dared to speak.
Finally, the tattooed man in the armchair spoke, his voice deep and rough.
"Fujin."
A man stepped forward, dressed in an armored green bodysuit and red oni mask, the fur of the leopard pelt around his shoulders shifting minutely.
"You will go and release your brother from the PRT's care," the tattooed man ordered.
Fujin bowed deeply, reverently, his fist clenched over his heart. Straightening up, he strode purposefully from the room, a burst of wind blowing in as the doors closed.
Waving a hand carelessly as the air returned to stillness, the tattooed man in the Laz-E-Boy dismissed those present. Soon, his serfs had left his presence, and he was alone.
"Sentai," the man groused. "This is why I left Japan." Sighing, the tattooed man picked up the remote sitting in the armrest's cup holder and turned on the TV.
"Are you ready kids?"
"Aye aye, Captain!"
Putting down the remote, Lung reclined in his chair and kicked up his feet. The Sentai could wait. It was time for his cartoons.
Taylor scowled as she sat down on the concrete bench, setting her bagged lunch on the accompanying concrete table. School had certainly been fun. Oh, the bullies hadn't done anything, but that was the problem: they hadn't done anything. The last time the bullies hadn't done anything, they'd filled her locker with all manner of trash and rotting refuse; she'd spent the whole day on pins and needles as a result, just waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. It was somehow only made worse by the fact that it was only a half-day at school that day.
Sighing, Taylor opened her bag and looked at the contents. After a day like hers, a burger from Fugly Bob's was just what she needed.
Sedately munching on her deliciously greasy burger, the grease staining the burger wrap transparent, Taylor simply sat and allowed herself to relax. Sitting out here, on Fugly Bob's outdoor dining patio, under a large umbrella, just enjoying the unseasonably warm February weather, it was soothing.
Sadly, she wasn't there at Fugly Bob's to relax, but it was a nice side effect of choosing to meet there. Swallowing the bite of burger in her mouth, Taylor looked up at the two men who sat down at the table, their own lunches in hand. Kyle Rowe and Michael Krane, a nigh inseparable pair of videogame geeks who'd graduated from Winslow High School the year before. However, the public knew them better by their alter-egos: Uber and Leet, the man who could master any skill and the man who could build anything once.
"Mike, Kyle. How was Comicon?"
Kyle smiled, blue eyes sparkling beneath a short-cropped mop of light brown hair. He was an easy-going sort, tall, handsome, and fit in the manner of someone who worked out on a regular basis. "Oh, you know, sat in on some panels, sold some merchandise, enjoyed the costume contests, the usual."
Mike snorted in amusement, drawing Taylor's attention. Mike was shorter than Kyle, with brown eyes and dirty blond hair, and the skinny physique of someone endowed with a ridiculously efficient metabolism, who nonetheless sat around all day. "The usual, he says." He paused. "Actually, explosions and screaming are depressingly commonplace around us."
"I'm almost afraid to ask," Taylor said.
"Probably for the best," Mike replied ruefully. "At least it wasn't our fault this time."
"But enough about us," Kyle interjected. "How've you been?"
Taylor smiled broadly. Reaching into her backpack, she pulled out two devices and set them on the table, one yellow, and one blue.
Mike and Kyle started, leaning in with astonishment. Mike reached out for the blue device, only to stop and look up at Taylor. "Holy-! You finished them?"
The smile on Taylor's face would be enough to make the cat that ate the canary look chagrined. "Indeed."
Kyle slid out of his seat, face level with the tabletop as he poked at the yellow morpher with a fingertip. "Damn, I'll be honest, I didn't think you'd be able to do it so fast, what with that robot and other projects of yours." Getting back into his seat, Kyle continued prodding the yellow morpher. "So, what do you plan to do with these?"
"Well, I've found users for the other three, but these two," Taylor explained, pushing the two morphers closer. "These are yours."
The two men goggled at Taylor, before looking at each other, then down at the morphers, and back to Taylor.
Mike carefully picked up the blue morpher. "You're…giving them to us?"
"Hey, well," Taylor explained. "You did save me from those merchants and explained the do's and don'ts of cape life after I triggered." She shrugged. "I trust you guys."
"And, you're giving them to us. We're still technically villains, you know," Mike pointed out.
"True, but…" Taylor brought her right hand to her wrist, running a thumb along the red morpher strapped there. "Ever since I made these, well, best I can describe it, I get a sense for people. What they're like."
The two men stared at Taylor for what seemed the longest time before breaking off to consider the morphers.
Kyle picked up the yellow morpher, turning it over in his hands and running his fingers over its surfaces. Finally, he turned to Mike. "We'll have to do a farewell show."
"I know," Mike agreed, the blue morpher in hand as he poked and prodded at it. "But, to be honest, I'm kind of looking forward to putting Uber and Leet behind us. We've done some things that I'm not so proud of."
The two paused, then looked at each other. "Grand Theft Auto hookers," they both said knowingly in unison.
"Not our finest moment," Kyle agreed.
"So, you guys in?" Taylor asked hopefully.
Kyle nodded. "Yeah, what the heck. I guess so."
Mike slid the blue morpher onto his wrist and started fiddling with it. "So, how's this thing work?"
Before Taylor could answer, thunder rolled and wind howled as a deafening gale blasted down the street. Taylor, Mike, and Kyle were thrown from their seats by the unexpected force that buffeted them. Shielding her eyes with her arm, Taylor was barely able to catch sight of an indistinct body tumbling past.
Finally, the squall died down, and the three were able to stand back up. Dusting herself off, Taylor looked over at the body that had tumbled by in the gale. "Holy crap, it's Miss Militia!"
Kyle and Mike looked over to find that it was indeed the Protectorate Hero Miss Militia, easily recognizable by her green military fatigues, and the American flag sash and bandanna around her waist and lower face respectively. Unfortunately, she had most definitely seen better days. Her costume was charred and torn, her arm was twisted at a most unnatural angle, and she was blissfully unconscious. Of the shapeshifting weapon that her power manifested as, there was no sign.
As Mike and Kyle moved to check on the unconscious superheroine, a hideous cackle drew Taylor's attention down the street. There, dressed in a drab orange prison jumpsuit and a black domino mask, was Raijin, standing next to a man in a green jumpsuit and red oni mask; his brother Fujin, the so-called god of winds.
"She's alright," Kyle reported from where he kneeled next to Miss Militia, his hand dropping from her exposed neck. "Her arm's broken, and she'll probably have a nasty concussion, but her pulse is strong."
Mike, crouched on the other side of Miss Militia opposite of Kyle, looked down the street at Fujin and Raijin. "Crap, looks like Fujin broke his brother out of jail. Not good." He turned to Kyle and Taylor. "Two of Lung's heaviest hitters. What are we going to do?"
Taylor straightened up and looked to Mike and Kyle, brandishing her morpher as she answered Mike's earlier question. "Looks like I'll get to show you."
Throwing her arm out in front of her, Taylor pressed the two hidden buttons. "Going Medieval!" Shouting out the activation phrase, the teenager was engulfed in a red explosion, the resulting smoke clearing to reveal the girl clad in the armor of the Red Power Ranger. "With noble intent and dragon's rage, Ranger Red!"
Mike and Kyle goggled at Taylor once more, completely and utterly speechless. Finally, Kyle was able to find his wits and remembered how to talk. "Did you just explode?"
Taylor, or rather, the Red Ranger turned to look at him. "Yes."
Taken aback by the rather matter of fact response he received, Kyle was almost at a loss for words again. Almost. "Why did you just explode?"
The Red Ranger's head tilted forward, exasperation evident in her body language. "Is this really the time?"
"I guess not," Kyle admitted.
Shaking her head, the Red Ranger placed her finger to the side of her helmet. "Alpha, you there? I need…"
"YOU!"
The three looked down the street to see Raijin. The villainous cape was absolutely thunderous, vicious sparks crackling off his body and scorching the asphalt where they landed. "YOU RED BITCH!"
"Brother." Fujin put a calming hand on Raijin's shoulder. His mask stared eerily into the Red Ranger's visor. "Together."
Raijin smirked cruelly, his eyes glowing behind his mask. "Yes. We shall make you scream for what you did to Raijin," he hissed, his body collapsing down into a sphere of ball lightning.
The Red Ranger only just had time to summon her sword and bring it up to block as the lightning arced towards her, Raijin coalescing out of the sparks to strike at her. Taylor made to riposte with her sword, Raijin having left himself hideously exposed, only for a painful gust of wind to knock her off balance long enough for Raijin to recover and attack again.
Mike and Kyle watched helplessly as the Red Ranger was put on the back foot, only barely able to keep ahead of Raijin's wild swings while Fujin's winds kept her from regaining her balance.
"We got to help her." It took a moment for Mike to realize the words had come from his mouth.
"How?" Kyle questioned, his eyes locked on the fight. "We didn't bring any of our stuff, and the teleporter broke three shows ago."
"Well, we got to do something!"
Slowly, the two looked down at the yellow morpher on the table and the blue morpher on Mike's wrist.
Mike looked up at Kyle. "You don't think?"
"It's worth a try," Kyle retorted, strapping the yellow morpher to his wrist. "Ready?"
"Ready."
Standing side by side, the two men thrust their arms out, depressing the two hidden buttons as they had seen Taylor do. ""Going Medieval!""
With twin explosions of blue and yellow—
—for an instant, the two men felt utterly alone—
Mike walked down a corridor made of grey stone, the hall lit by candles and sunlight shining through arrowslits down low and stain-glass windows up high. At the end of the hall was an archway filled with white light. Behind the man, a torrent of water came roaring from around the corner, filling the corridor. Mike walked on, unheeding of the raging flood even as the waters rose to pool and eddy around him like streamers in a fountain. Where the water passed, Mike's body was covered in a gunmetal grey bodysuit that shone bright with a small hexagonal pattern. As he continued to walk, his forearms and lower legs were inundated before the water condensed into blue, greave-like boots and blue, gauntlet-like gloves with white trim. The water pulled away from Mike's torso, leaving behind a short, blue tabard with a white serpent coat-of-arms and secured around the waist with a white belt. The flood receded, only for the water to rear up into a raging foam to form the open maw of a striking serpent that came barreling down on Mike. As the fangs closed around his head, the roiling water exploded into misty droplets, revealing a black-visored blue helmet reminiscent of a barbute. With a final step, Mike stepped out of the corridor and into the light.
Kyle walked down a corridor made of grey stone, the hall lit by candles and sunlight shining through arrowslits down low and stain-glass windows up high. At the end of the hall was an archway filled with white light. Behind the man, lightning sparked and crackled, surging its way along and between the walls and floor. Kyle walked on, unheeding of the arcing electricity. The lightning reached the man and began to skitter up his legs to his body. Where the raging current passed, Kyle's body was covered in a gunmetal grey bodysuit that shone bright with a small hexagonal pattern. As he continued to walk, his forearms and lower legs ignited with yellow Saint Elmo's fire before the sparks condensed into yellow, greave-like boots and yellow, gauntlet-like gloves with white trim. The strands of lightning sank into Kyle's torso, leaving behind a short, yellow tabard with a white eagle coat-of-arms and secured around the waist with a white belt. Lightning shot from the walls and coalesced to form the open beak of a shrieking eagle that came barreling down on Kyle. As the beak snapped closed around his head, the lightning exploded into motes of skittering light, revealing a black-visored yellow helmet reminiscent of a bevored sallet. With a final step, Kyle stepped out of the corridor and into the light.
—when a strength and confidence the two men had not felt in a long time coursed through them.
—Mike and Kyle stood tall, resplendent in the regalia of the blue and yellow rangers.
For a moment, they just stood there, until Kyle, the Yellow Ranger, looked down at his hands. "I know Kung Fu," he whispered, almost reverently.
Mike, the Blue Ranger, tilted his head and scratched at his helmet. "It's the damnedest thing, but it feels like something's trying to apologize to me."
"Odd." It was, really, all that Kyle could say; but what else does one say to such a statement?
"NO!"
A strangled scream of rage drew the two new Rangers' attention, accompanied by a bolt of lightning landing between them. Fujin was still fighting against the Red Ranger, against Taylor, but the twin explosions of blue and yellow had not gone unnoticed by Raijin.
"NO! NO! NO! NO! NOOOOO!" Raijin screeched, his face an alarming shade of bulging veins scarlet. "WHERE DO YOU KEEP COMING FROM!?!"
Mike looked to Kyle. "He looks mad."
"I think he's past that," Kyle stated, eyeing Raijin warily. "Hey, you mad bro?"
With a wordless shriek of apoplectic rage, Raijin charged, launching himself forward on a blast of lightning, abandoning his brother to attack the two newcomers.
Kyle took a step back, a yellow-hilted longsword materializing in his hands. "I regret nothing," he yelled, swinging the sword in a near-textbook gutting strike.
Raijin, although near mindless from sheer rage, nonetheless still had enough wherewithal to try and dodge. He might have made it too, if not for Mike suddenly stepping in, swinging his own sword like the world's sharpest baseball bat.
As Raijin staggered by, twin lines of blackened cloth burned into his prison jumpsuit across the chest and abdomen, Kyle gawked at the weapon in his hand. "Where'd these swords come from?"
"I don't know!" Mike yelped, nearly dropping his sword in surprise.
Screaming in rage and gurgling from sheer fury, Raijin recovered from his stumble and spun around, lightning wreathing his fist. He punched the air, sending a scintillating thunderbolt crashing right into Kyle's chest and knocking the yellow-clad man off his feet.
"Bro!" Mike screamed, punching Raijin in the side of the head as he did so.
"I'm okay," Kyle declared, popping back up with nary a wince. "I hardly felt a thing!"
Mike ducked, dodging a blindly thrown bolt of lightning as Raijin staggered about clutching at his ear. "That should have fried you! How are you still alive?"
"I don't know," Kyle yelled, slashing Raijin across the back.
The enraged villain stumbled forward before spinning back around, only to take a pair of swords to the chest, the twin slashes carving a charred X into his jumpsuit.
He then promptly exploded.
The two men watched in bafflement as Raijin's unconscious body toppled over like a felled tree.
"WHY DID HE JUST EXPLODE!?!"
"I DON'T KNOW!!!"
At the same time, Taylor was sent tumbling by a miniature-tornado-enhanced punch, just in time for Fujin to look over and see his brother explode. "Brother!"
Still freaking out about their opponent spontaneously exploding, Mike and Kyle were sent flying by a pair of whirlwinds. So much dust was kicked up by the two cyclones, that it was near impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction. By the time the dust and the wind settled, Fujin and Raijin were both gone.
"Well," Kyle quipped as he rolled rightside-up from where he'd landed upside down against a wall. "That happened."
Danny was awoken by a sharp knocking on his bedroom door. "Heh? Wuzzit?"
"Dad?" It was Taylor, some distant part of his mind recognized groggily. "You told me to wake you up before I left for school? Well, I'm heading to school."
Blearily, Danny pushed himself upright, blinking in confusion. It was his day off, why did he ask Taylor to…oh, right. Dragging a hand down his face with a groan, Danny let out a resigned puff of air. "Thanks Kiddo. Have a good day at school."
Rubbing his cheeks, Danny checked his nightstand clock. Half an hour before Riley would be up and getting ready for her day at school. That was plenty of time.
Leaning over, Danny reached under the bed and picked up the prosthetic leg there. Pressing it to the stump just below his left knee, the union man grimaced in discomfort as the prosthetic latched into place, a pneumatic bladder sealing the fake limb in place.
Standing up, Danny tested the joints of his prosthetic, as was his wont every morning. Tinkertech derived though the fake leg might be, Danny had never quite become used to the prosthetic, even if the sensors within provided some semblance of pressure and feeling in his missing limb.
His usual check done, Danny stood up, only to let himself fall forward, catching himself on his hands before his face met the floor.
Back straight, Danny let his arms bend, slowly bringing him down to the floor before pushing himself back up.
'One.'
---
In a dark room was a man, intricate dragon tattoos dancing and twirling across his bare chest. He sat, carelessly lounging in a well-worn Laz-E-Boy chair, the soft lighting glinting off the metal dragon mask that covered everything but his mouth. Around the room, several men and women stood against the walls, with only the wall containing a large plasma-screen television vacant of any bodies.
No one dared to speak.
Finally, the tattooed man in the armchair spoke, his voice deep and rough.
"Fujin."
A man stepped forward, dressed in an armored green bodysuit and red oni mask, the fur of the leopard pelt around his shoulders shifting minutely.
"You will go and release your brother from the PRT's care," the tattooed man ordered.
Fujin bowed deeply, reverently, his fist clenched over his heart. Straightening up, he strode purposefully from the room, a burst of wind blowing in as the doors closed.
Waving a hand carelessly as the air returned to stillness, the tattooed man in the Laz-E-Boy dismissed those present. Soon, his serfs had left his presence, and he was alone.
"Sentai," the man groused. "This is why I left Japan." Sighing, the tattooed man picked up the remote sitting in the armrest's cup holder and turned on the TV.
"Are you ready kids?"
"Aye aye, Captain!"
Putting down the remote, Lung reclined in his chair and kicked up his feet. The Sentai could wait. It was time for his cartoons.
---
Taylor scowled as she sat down on the concrete bench, setting her bagged lunch on the accompanying concrete table. School had certainly been fun. Oh, the bullies hadn't done anything, but that was the problem: they hadn't done anything. The last time the bullies hadn't done anything, they'd filled her locker with all manner of trash and rotting refuse; she'd spent the whole day on pins and needles as a result, just waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. It was somehow only made worse by the fact that it was only a half-day at school that day.
Sighing, Taylor opened her bag and looked at the contents. After a day like hers, a burger from Fugly Bob's was just what she needed.
Sedately munching on her deliciously greasy burger, the grease staining the burger wrap transparent, Taylor simply sat and allowed herself to relax. Sitting out here, on Fugly Bob's outdoor dining patio, under a large umbrella, just enjoying the unseasonably warm February weather, it was soothing.
Sadly, she wasn't there at Fugly Bob's to relax, but it was a nice side effect of choosing to meet there. Swallowing the bite of burger in her mouth, Taylor looked up at the two men who sat down at the table, their own lunches in hand. Kyle Rowe and Michael Krane, a nigh inseparable pair of videogame geeks who'd graduated from Winslow High School the year before. However, the public knew them better by their alter-egos: Uber and Leet, the man who could master any skill and the man who could build anything once.
"Mike, Kyle. How was Comicon?"
Kyle smiled, blue eyes sparkling beneath a short-cropped mop of light brown hair. He was an easy-going sort, tall, handsome, and fit in the manner of someone who worked out on a regular basis. "Oh, you know, sat in on some panels, sold some merchandise, enjoyed the costume contests, the usual."
Mike snorted in amusement, drawing Taylor's attention. Mike was shorter than Kyle, with brown eyes and dirty blond hair, and the skinny physique of someone endowed with a ridiculously efficient metabolism, who nonetheless sat around all day. "The usual, he says." He paused. "Actually, explosions and screaming are depressingly commonplace around us."
"I'm almost afraid to ask," Taylor said.
"Probably for the best," Mike replied ruefully. "At least it wasn't our fault this time."
"But enough about us," Kyle interjected. "How've you been?"
Taylor smiled broadly. Reaching into her backpack, she pulled out two devices and set them on the table, one yellow, and one blue.
Mike and Kyle started, leaning in with astonishment. Mike reached out for the blue device, only to stop and look up at Taylor. "Holy-! You finished them?"
The smile on Taylor's face would be enough to make the cat that ate the canary look chagrined. "Indeed."
Kyle slid out of his seat, face level with the tabletop as he poked at the yellow morpher with a fingertip. "Damn, I'll be honest, I didn't think you'd be able to do it so fast, what with that robot and other projects of yours." Getting back into his seat, Kyle continued prodding the yellow morpher. "So, what do you plan to do with these?"
"Well, I've found users for the other three, but these two," Taylor explained, pushing the two morphers closer. "These are yours."
The two men goggled at Taylor, before looking at each other, then down at the morphers, and back to Taylor.
Mike carefully picked up the blue morpher. "You're…giving them to us?"
"Hey, well," Taylor explained. "You did save me from those merchants and explained the do's and don'ts of cape life after I triggered." She shrugged. "I trust you guys."
"And, you're giving them to us. We're still technically villains, you know," Mike pointed out.
"True, but…" Taylor brought her right hand to her wrist, running a thumb along the red morpher strapped there. "Ever since I made these, well, best I can describe it, I get a sense for people. What they're like."
The two men stared at Taylor for what seemed the longest time before breaking off to consider the morphers.
Kyle picked up the yellow morpher, turning it over in his hands and running his fingers over its surfaces. Finally, he turned to Mike. "We'll have to do a farewell show."
"I know," Mike agreed, the blue morpher in hand as he poked and prodded at it. "But, to be honest, I'm kind of looking forward to putting Uber and Leet behind us. We've done some things that I'm not so proud of."
The two paused, then looked at each other. "Grand Theft Auto hookers," they both said knowingly in unison.
"Not our finest moment," Kyle agreed.
"So, you guys in?" Taylor asked hopefully.
Kyle nodded. "Yeah, what the heck. I guess so."
Mike slid the blue morpher onto his wrist and started fiddling with it. "So, how's this thing work?"
Before Taylor could answer, thunder rolled and wind howled as a deafening gale blasted down the street. Taylor, Mike, and Kyle were thrown from their seats by the unexpected force that buffeted them. Shielding her eyes with her arm, Taylor was barely able to catch sight of an indistinct body tumbling past.
Finally, the squall died down, and the three were able to stand back up. Dusting herself off, Taylor looked over at the body that had tumbled by in the gale. "Holy crap, it's Miss Militia!"
Kyle and Mike looked over to find that it was indeed the Protectorate Hero Miss Militia, easily recognizable by her green military fatigues, and the American flag sash and bandanna around her waist and lower face respectively. Unfortunately, she had most definitely seen better days. Her costume was charred and torn, her arm was twisted at a most unnatural angle, and she was blissfully unconscious. Of the shapeshifting weapon that her power manifested as, there was no sign.
As Mike and Kyle moved to check on the unconscious superheroine, a hideous cackle drew Taylor's attention down the street. There, dressed in a drab orange prison jumpsuit and a black domino mask, was Raijin, standing next to a man in a green jumpsuit and red oni mask; his brother Fujin, the so-called god of winds.
"She's alright," Kyle reported from where he kneeled next to Miss Militia, his hand dropping from her exposed neck. "Her arm's broken, and she'll probably have a nasty concussion, but her pulse is strong."
Mike, crouched on the other side of Miss Militia opposite of Kyle, looked down the street at Fujin and Raijin. "Crap, looks like Fujin broke his brother out of jail. Not good." He turned to Kyle and Taylor. "Two of Lung's heaviest hitters. What are we going to do?"
Taylor straightened up and looked to Mike and Kyle, brandishing her morpher as she answered Mike's earlier question. "Looks like I'll get to show you."
Throwing her arm out in front of her, Taylor pressed the two hidden buttons. "Going Medieval!" Shouting out the activation phrase, the teenager was engulfed in a red explosion, the resulting smoke clearing to reveal the girl clad in the armor of the Red Power Ranger. "With noble intent and dragon's rage, Ranger Red!"
Mike and Kyle goggled at Taylor once more, completely and utterly speechless. Finally, Kyle was able to find his wits and remembered how to talk. "Did you just explode?"
Taylor, or rather, the Red Ranger turned to look at him. "Yes."
Taken aback by the rather matter of fact response he received, Kyle was almost at a loss for words again. Almost. "Why did you just explode?"
The Red Ranger's head tilted forward, exasperation evident in her body language. "Is this really the time?"
"I guess not," Kyle admitted.
Shaking her head, the Red Ranger placed her finger to the side of her helmet. "Alpha, you there? I need…"
"YOU!"
The three looked down the street to see Raijin. The villainous cape was absolutely thunderous, vicious sparks crackling off his body and scorching the asphalt where they landed. "YOU RED BITCH!"
"Brother." Fujin put a calming hand on Raijin's shoulder. His mask stared eerily into the Red Ranger's visor. "Together."
Raijin smirked cruelly, his eyes glowing behind his mask. "Yes. We shall make you scream for what you did to Raijin," he hissed, his body collapsing down into a sphere of ball lightning.
The Red Ranger only just had time to summon her sword and bring it up to block as the lightning arced towards her, Raijin coalescing out of the sparks to strike at her. Taylor made to riposte with her sword, Raijin having left himself hideously exposed, only for a painful gust of wind to knock her off balance long enough for Raijin to recover and attack again.
Mike and Kyle watched helplessly as the Red Ranger was put on the back foot, only barely able to keep ahead of Raijin's wild swings while Fujin's winds kept her from regaining her balance.
"We got to help her." It took a moment for Mike to realize the words had come from his mouth.
"How?" Kyle questioned, his eyes locked on the fight. "We didn't bring any of our stuff, and the teleporter broke three shows ago."
"Well, we got to do something!"
Slowly, the two looked down at the yellow morpher on the table and the blue morpher on Mike's wrist.
Mike looked up at Kyle. "You don't think?"
"It's worth a try," Kyle retorted, strapping the yellow morpher to his wrist. "Ready?"
"Ready."
Standing side by side, the two men thrust their arms out, depressing the two hidden buttons as they had seen Taylor do. ""Going Medieval!""
With twin explosions of blue and yellow—
---
—for an instant, the two men felt utterly alone—
---
Mike walked down a corridor made of grey stone, the hall lit by candles and sunlight shining through arrowslits down low and stain-glass windows up high. At the end of the hall was an archway filled with white light. Behind the man, a torrent of water came roaring from around the corner, filling the corridor. Mike walked on, unheeding of the raging flood even as the waters rose to pool and eddy around him like streamers in a fountain. Where the water passed, Mike's body was covered in a gunmetal grey bodysuit that shone bright with a small hexagonal pattern. As he continued to walk, his forearms and lower legs were inundated before the water condensed into blue, greave-like boots and blue, gauntlet-like gloves with white trim. The water pulled away from Mike's torso, leaving behind a short, blue tabard with a white serpent coat-of-arms and secured around the waist with a white belt. The flood receded, only for the water to rear up into a raging foam to form the open maw of a striking serpent that came barreling down on Mike. As the fangs closed around his head, the roiling water exploded into misty droplets, revealing a black-visored blue helmet reminiscent of a barbute. With a final step, Mike stepped out of the corridor and into the light.
---
Kyle walked down a corridor made of grey stone, the hall lit by candles and sunlight shining through arrowslits down low and stain-glass windows up high. At the end of the hall was an archway filled with white light. Behind the man, lightning sparked and crackled, surging its way along and between the walls and floor. Kyle walked on, unheeding of the arcing electricity. The lightning reached the man and began to skitter up his legs to his body. Where the raging current passed, Kyle's body was covered in a gunmetal grey bodysuit that shone bright with a small hexagonal pattern. As he continued to walk, his forearms and lower legs ignited with yellow Saint Elmo's fire before the sparks condensed into yellow, greave-like boots and yellow, gauntlet-like gloves with white trim. The strands of lightning sank into Kyle's torso, leaving behind a short, yellow tabard with a white eagle coat-of-arms and secured around the waist with a white belt. Lightning shot from the walls and coalesced to form the open beak of a shrieking eagle that came barreling down on Kyle. As the beak snapped closed around his head, the lightning exploded into motes of skittering light, revealing a black-visored yellow helmet reminiscent of a bevored sallet. With a final step, Kyle stepped out of the corridor and into the light.
---
—when a strength and confidence the two men had not felt in a long time coursed through them.
---
—Mike and Kyle stood tall, resplendent in the regalia of the blue and yellow rangers.
For a moment, they just stood there, until Kyle, the Yellow Ranger, looked down at his hands. "I know Kung Fu," he whispered, almost reverently.
Mike, the Blue Ranger, tilted his head and scratched at his helmet. "It's the damnedest thing, but it feels like something's trying to apologize to me."
"Odd." It was, really, all that Kyle could say; but what else does one say to such a statement?
"NO!"
A strangled scream of rage drew the two new Rangers' attention, accompanied by a bolt of lightning landing between them. Fujin was still fighting against the Red Ranger, against Taylor, but the twin explosions of blue and yellow had not gone unnoticed by Raijin.
"NO! NO! NO! NO! NOOOOO!" Raijin screeched, his face an alarming shade of bulging veins scarlet. "WHERE DO YOU KEEP COMING FROM!?!"
Mike looked to Kyle. "He looks mad."
"I think he's past that," Kyle stated, eyeing Raijin warily. "Hey, you mad bro?"
With a wordless shriek of apoplectic rage, Raijin charged, launching himself forward on a blast of lightning, abandoning his brother to attack the two newcomers.
Kyle took a step back, a yellow-hilted longsword materializing in his hands. "I regret nothing," he yelled, swinging the sword in a near-textbook gutting strike.
Raijin, although near mindless from sheer rage, nonetheless still had enough wherewithal to try and dodge. He might have made it too, if not for Mike suddenly stepping in, swinging his own sword like the world's sharpest baseball bat.
As Raijin staggered by, twin lines of blackened cloth burned into his prison jumpsuit across the chest and abdomen, Kyle gawked at the weapon in his hand. "Where'd these swords come from?"
"I don't know!" Mike yelped, nearly dropping his sword in surprise.
Screaming in rage and gurgling from sheer fury, Raijin recovered from his stumble and spun around, lightning wreathing his fist. He punched the air, sending a scintillating thunderbolt crashing right into Kyle's chest and knocking the yellow-clad man off his feet.
"Bro!" Mike screamed, punching Raijin in the side of the head as he did so.
"I'm okay," Kyle declared, popping back up with nary a wince. "I hardly felt a thing!"
Mike ducked, dodging a blindly thrown bolt of lightning as Raijin staggered about clutching at his ear. "That should have fried you! How are you still alive?"
"I don't know," Kyle yelled, slashing Raijin across the back.
The enraged villain stumbled forward before spinning back around, only to take a pair of swords to the chest, the twin slashes carving a charred X into his jumpsuit.
He then promptly exploded.
The two men watched in bafflement as Raijin's unconscious body toppled over like a felled tree.
"WHY DID HE JUST EXPLODE!?!"
"I DON'T KNOW!!!"
At the same time, Taylor was sent tumbling by a miniature-tornado-enhanced punch, just in time for Fujin to look over and see his brother explode. "Brother!"
Still freaking out about their opponent spontaneously exploding, Mike and Kyle were sent flying by a pair of whirlwinds. So much dust was kicked up by the two cyclones, that it was near impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction. By the time the dust and the wind settled, Fujin and Raijin were both gone.
"Well," Kyle quipped as he rolled rightside-up from where he'd landed upside down against a wall. "That happened."
Last edited:
Happy Early Birthday
Looking forward to see where it goes
Do you plan to bring the Zord when Leviathan attacks or reveal it before? I am thinking Leviathan would be MegaZord while Zords would be ramped up Lung or Fenja&Menja.
Actually according to the timeline, I don't think Ziz attack in Canberra has happened yet
Who would be the power rangers type villian? Nobody from BB seems to have the sentai villianness.
Looking forward to see where it goes
Do you plan to bring the Zord when Leviathan attacks or reveal it before? I am thinking Leviathan would be MegaZord while Zords would be ramped up Lung or Fenja&Menja.
Actually according to the timeline, I don't think Ziz attack in Canberra has happened yet
Who would be the power rangers type villian? Nobody from BB seems to have the sentai villianness.
HereticMIND
[happy_robot_dinosaur_noises.flac]
- Location
- Howard County, MD
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Yes. YES. ALL OF MY YES! So watching this thread!
- Location
- Dark side of the sun
I absolutely love how everyone is questioning why things are blowing up all the time
Happy Birthday Guardsman_Sparky!
May the universe tremble in fear on this auspicious day
GameDragon
Too Hot To Handle
- Location
- Challenger Deep
Just found this, and it is beautiful. Power Rangers in Brockton Bay. Also, I noticed that each Ranger has a specific helmet. Had to look each one of them up.
- Location
- Australia
"Look mum I'm a sentai now!"
Morph 1.5
Guardsman_Sparky
The Clueless Wonder
- Location
- Virginia
Collin Wallis, better known as the tinker Armsmaster, set his jaw as he dismounted his custom-built motor cycle and approached the police cordon. The policeman manning the perimeter took in the hero's power armor—deep blue with silver highlights, covering the hero's entire body save for his chin with its short, well-groomed beard—and waved him through. Nodding in thanks, Armsmaster took the yellow police tape in hand and lifted it up to duck beneath.
Standing straight, Armsmaster took in the scene. Panning his head from one side of the street to the other, the tinker took note of the damages. 'Lichtenberg figures and windswept debris. Definitely Fujin and Raijin's handiwork. The scorch marks are new, though."
Making a note to inspect the battle damage closer, Armsmaster turned on his heel and made his way to the outdoor dining patio of the Fugly Bob's restaurant; specifically, the two paramedics tending to an unconscious Miss Militia. One of the medics looked up at the tinker's approach for a moment, before returning his attention to his patient.
"How is she," Armsmaster asked without preamble once he was close enough.
"She'll live," one of the paramedics, a grizzled old man who sounded like he'd smoked three packs of cigarettes a day in his youth. "Her arm's broken for sure, and she'll have a hell of a headache in the morning," he explained as he carefully placed a brace around Miss Militia's neck.
Armsmaster nodded, then looked closely at the splint holding his colleague's arm still. "That is not a standard splint."
"Naw, that's Uber's handiwork," the medic replied gruffly. "Say what you will about the punk, but he knows his first aid."
Behind his mirrored visor, Armsmaster's eyes narrowed. "Uber and Leet were here?" Though only Uber had been mentioned, he and Leet were nigh inseparable: where one went, the other was sure to follow.
"Yeah, they were," the medic drawled. "Had some girl with them. Didn't recognize their duds, though. Some sort of colorful spandex getup," he pondered as he secured the straps on the neck brace.
"And you didn't stop them?" Armsmaster demanded.
The paramedic snorted. "Son, I'm an EMT, not a police officer. 'Sides, those two and their friend left as soon as the police arrived. Some sort of nifty teleporter dealie." Turning away from Armsmaster, the medic began to speak with his partner.
Recognizing a dismissal when he saw one, Collin left the two to their patient and started walking away, only to stop in his tracks. He stood there, staring at the black scorch mark on the concrete, indicative of a large explosion.
Kneeling down, Armsmaster brushed his armored fingers across the charred ground. Bringing his fingers up and rubbing them together, the tinker frowned. A moment later, a rudimentary scan from the sensors in his helmet confirmed that there was no residue from the explosion present on his fingertips or on the ground.
'Tinkertech, or a blaster, perhaps.' Standing up, Armsmaster went to find whoever was in charge of the crime scene. Hopefully they'd be able to pass on any witness statements and help get to the bottom of this.
Though, the tinker had to admit, things were rarely ever so simple.
Materializing in Ranger Ops, Taylor un-morphed and, shaking out her hair, she turned to Mike and Kyle. The two were still morphed up, and though their expressions were hidden behind their helmets, from the manner their heads were casting about, they were completely gobsmacked.
"So," Taylor began. "Is there a reason we left the moment the authorities arrived?"
Kyle looked away from the shiny finish and blinking lights of Ranger Ops. "Huh? Oh, running away, yeah." He paused, then lifted a gloved finger. "Well, technically, while there aren't any arrest warrants out for me or Mike, we don't exactly have a very good relationship with the local PRT or Protectorate."
He lowered his finger, his yellow helmet tilting to the side somewhat sheepishly. "Plus, I don't think Miss Militia has ever really forgiven me for the … spa episode."
Taylor blinked. She hadn't seen that episode. Though what a spa had to do with video games… Perhaps it was best not to ask.
"Speaking of," the red-clad ranger said, a look of worry creasing her face. "Should we have left Miss Militia there like that? It didn't feel very heroic."
Kyle looked at her, then removed his helmet, the seals disengaging with a hiss. Holding the helmet under his arm, the thinker ran his free hand through his hair. "Truth be told, it was really the best thing we could do for her. Though I can master any skill, I am not a paramedic. We made sure she was stable and not in immediate danger, and we left her to the EMTs. Most importantly, we did not move her. If she was suffering from a spinal injury, moving her could have been disastrous," Kyle explained. "Even with Panacea in the city, a spinal injury would not look good. For us, or the PRT."
Taylor grunted and stalked over to a console. Fiddling with the buttons and levers soon activated one of the many screens in Ranger Ops, showing Miss Militia being loaded into an ambulance by paramedics, her broken arm splinted and her neck covered by a brace. Taylor sighed in relief. "Well, it looks like she'll be okay. I hope."
Any further discussion over the Protectorate heroine's health was forestalled by Mike finally coming out of his daze, rushing over to stand uncomfortably close to Taylor. "How'd you do it?"
Blinking, Taylor leaned away from Mike's still helmeted visage. "How'd I do what?"
"This," the blue-suited tinker gestured at Ranger Ops frantically. "How the hell did you build all this in only a few months and keep the power signatures off my sensors?"
"Oh. Well," Taylor began. "I had help from my dad and Alpha," she explained. "As for the power thing…" Taylor smirked. "Well, it helps that we've got like a mile of solid rock above us."
Mike stared at Taylor, his helmet staring blankly at her. "What?"
Taylor pointed up at the ceiling. "Brockton Bay was built on top of an underground reservoir. However, a lot of that reservoir has dried up, plus, there's a ton of old mine shafts down here from way back when."
"Oh yeah, I remember those," Kyle interjected, a thoughtful look on his face. "Someone found a really good vein of iron ore back in the 1800s. Heck, isn't the resulting goldrush the reason Brockton Bay was initially founded?" After a moment of contemplation, the yellow-suited thinker digressed. "So, I'm guessing you found an old mine shaft then and went from there?"
"Yup," Taylor confirmed with a nod. "And with Alpha to do the heavy lifting, it really didn't take much time at all to get everything up and running…though, I will admit that we only just installed all the walls recently," she admitted, waving a hand at the metal walls.
"Wait," Mike interjected, pointing a gloved hand at Taylor. "That's the second time you've mentioned this guy. Who's Alpha?"
Staring at Mike for a moment, Taylor jerked in realization and bopped the heel of her palm off her forehead. "Oh, duh, I never introduced you." Walking over to a console, Taylor pressed down on a seemingly random button. "Alpha, could you come to Ops? We have guests."
A tinny voice sounded from a hidden speaker. ~Guests? Again? Aiyaiyaiyaiyai!~
A few minutes later, the tinny voice echoed into Ranger Ops as one of the doors hissed open. "I swear Miss," Alpha lamented as he shuffled in. "You're going to give me a short circuit if you continue to bring in guests without letting me know ahead of time. I haven't gotten all the rock dust out of the halls yet and…"
Alpha paused, the strip of lights that served as his face blinking rapidly at the sight of Mike and Kyle in their respective uniforms of blue and yellow. The robot turned to Taylor, his lights somehow blinking in an accusatory manner.
"Mistress Taylor, these are not guests."
Taylor quirked an eyebrow quizzically as Kyle and Mike shared a look, Mike finally taking off his helmet. "Oh," the only girl present asked. "What are they then?"
"New teammates, of course," Alpha retorted matter-of-factly. "After all, I doubt you would have given these two morphers if they weren't going to become Rangers." The red and gold robot shuffled towards the blue and yellow pair. "Greetings, I am Alpha."
Gormlessly, Mike and Kyle shook the robot's hand.
"It's uh, it's nice to meet you," Kyle said, somewhat uncertainly.
"Yeah, same," Mike nodded absently, his gaze flitting rapidly over Alpha's form. Eventually, he managed to tear his eyes from the robot. He looked at Taylor, eye full of mock accusation. "Taylor, you didn't tell us you had a robot."
"I didn't?" Taylor frowned, mentally going over the conversations she'd had with the gaming pair. "Huh," she finally allowed. "I guess I didn't." She waved a hand from the pair to Alpha and back. "Well then. Alpha; Mike and Kyle: Mike and Kyle; Alpha."
"It is a pleasure to meet you," Alpha said politely, shaking hands with the gaming pair.
"Likewise," Kyle responded pleasantly, a roguish smile on his face.
Mike, for his part, mumbled out something incoherent while staring at the hand he was shaking. "Fascinating…" Taking Alpha's hand, Mike pulled it close to his face, staring intently as he moved the appendage to and fro. "The shell is clearly mechanical, but the internal mechanisms look almost organic in form. Fascinating."
Alpha stared at Mike, his lights blinking in a nonplussed manner. "Thank you?"
The blue-suited tinker didn't respond, simply continuing to turn Alpha's hand this way and that while muttering under his breath.
Sighing, Kyle dragged a hand down his face before turning to Taylor. "This might take a while."
Taylor stared at Kyle, then slowly panned her gaze to Mike and the increasingly disturbed looking Alpha. Her hand slowly came up to press against her face. "Oy."
In a dark room, the man known as Lung lounged in his lazy chair, the TV blaring in front of him and casting shadows across the walls. It was a good day.
Loud noises filtered in through the walls, noises that soon began to coalesce into angry, raised voices. For a moment, Lung hoped it was one of the Baa-chans yelling at a grandson for doing something stupid. Those hopes were dashed when the volume of the voices increased to that of an incoherent screaming, until it was clear that the screaming was actually coming from a single voice.
A very familiar voice.
Lung sighed in exasperation, reaching for the remote.
~Remember, just smile and wave, boys. Smile and-*~
The TV turned off, leaving Lung in darkness.
A moment later, the door opened, and an orange-clad body was tossed into the room, followed shortly by a red-masked man in a green bodysuit.
Raijin lurched to his feet, apoplectic rage written on his charred and soot-covered features. "I'LL KILL THEM! I DON'T CARE HOW MANY OF THE LITTLE BITCHES CRAWL OUT OF THE WOODWORK! I'LL KILL ALL OF THEM, I'LL-*"
A quiet creak cut through the screaming, and Raijin froze mid-tirade. Slowly he turned his head to see Lung. The crime boss was sat upright, his chair no longer reclined, and his elbows resting on the armrests with his fingers wove together before the iron Long mask covering his upper face.
Fujin simply closed the door and stood by it, unmoving. The room was silent as the grave.
"I am disappointed in you, Yasunaga Koetsu," Lung rumbled, breaking the silence.
Raijin flinched, turning deathly pale at the casual use of his real name.
Slowly, Lung stood from his chair, towering over the electrokinetic. Raijin tried to take a step back, only to trip over his own feet and fall to the floor. Lung simply looked down upon the man.
"I sent you," Lung began, his voice rumbling like a cold furnace. "To protect the safehouses. To stop the mouse that was stealing my rice." He looked down, his eyes glowing with repressed fire behind his mask. "You failed."
Raijin worked his jaw, but no words came.
"Chin Ho told me of the plan: to trap the mouse in a cage of lightning. All you had to do was wait. The trap was set, the bait laid." Lung's eyes became two pinpricks of red, burning into Raijin's soul. "But you were impatient. You attacked the mouse, you chased the mouse beyond my territory. And you were captured for it." Fire burst from Lung's eyes, licks of flame curling around the horns of his mask. "I sacrificed many safehouses for the trap to be set, and because of you, I have nothing to show for it."
Raijin tried to scuttle away from Lung, only to run into something hard; a pair of legs blocking his path. He looked up to meet his brother's regretful gaze.
"You will learn patience, Koetsu. Or I shall teach it to you." Lung stepped forward, reaching for Raijin. "Let this serve as a reminder."
The sounds of crackling flames and agonized screams echoed through the night.
In an office near the top of the Medhall Medical skyscraper, Maxwell Anders grunted as he flipped through a sheaf of papers stapled together. "Colorful costumes and just as colorful rainbow explosions." He sighed, closing the packet and tossing it onto his desk. "How embarrassing that Troll was defeated by the likes of them."
"For all of his strength," a muffled voice with a faint German accent sounded from the corner of the room. "Troll is the epitome of the phrase 'dumb brute.'"
Max glanced off to the side, briefly taking in the man dressed in the regalia of a gas masked Schutzstaffel Sturmtruppe. "Yes, well, it's a good thing we didn't hire him for his brains then, isn't it, Krieg?" Max replied sardonically. "Still, his capture does put a damper on some of our kneebreaking operations. How soon can we arrange his furlough from the PRT?"
"Unknown," Krieg replied shortly. "My sources reported that the PRT was planning to move him, but with the ABB's attack on their headquarters today, that schedule is now up in the air."
Shaking his head, Max Anders strode to the office window and looked out over the city. "And once again, we are beset upon by barbarians." A silence passed, filling the room.
Finally, Max took a breath, breaking the silence. "Take some men to Little Asia. Burn down some shops, make a statement to their 'Lung-sama,'" he commanded. "And take your niece with you, it's about time she was blooded."
Krieg nodded deferentially. "Very well. And if these new heroes decide to interfere? After all, they seem to have a knack for being in the right place at the wrong time."
Max's eyes hardened, and a forest of steel blades burst from his desktop, shredding the briefing packet into so much confetti in an instant. "You know what to do."
The conference room door opened, admitting a blonde woman of severe disposition. She wore a simple business suit, charcoal grey, but she somehow made it look like she was wearing BDUs. From her sculpted cheekbones and the sharp blue eyes to her lithe frame, everything about her was hard, a hardness earned through a lifetime of conflict and strife.
She strode across the room, her pace the confident swagger of a predator who knew they had no equal, her stance the unyielding adamantine of one who had looked into the abyss and made the abyss blink first.
Arriving at the head of the long conference table, she sat and leaned forward, a faint whirring coming from her right arm as she propped her elbows on the table, hand resting on her fist before her face.
If one was to look at the table before the woman, they would have seen a name plaque there.
'Director Emily Piggot, PRT ENE'
For a long moment, Director Piggot was silent, staring at the table's occupants, taking them in.
Closest to her on the left was Battery, a blonde, serious woman with pseudo-electrical powers that allowed her to 'charge' herself, temporarily becoming stronger and more durable as long as the charge held out. She wore a black armored bodysuit with blue circuit designs, a change from her usual green. A matching helmet sat on the table before her.
Next to her was her husband, Assault. A jocular man in red, his blazing, windswept hair and lopsided grin gave him a devil-may-care air. He was a constant ball of energy and movement, which was only multiplied when he absorbed kinetic energy. A visor spun from its strap around his finger as he balanced his chair on two legs.
On the opposite side of the table next to the director sat Armsmaster. Stern, no nonsense, the man exuded professionalism, his back perfectly straight. He sat in a chair specifically designed to hold his bulk; his trademark blue and silver-highlighted power armor too heavy for normal chairs. He still wore his helmet, his chin and an impeccably groomed dark-haired goatee the only parts of his body exposed.
Farther down the table was Triumph. A recent graduate from the Wards program, he cut a valiant figure in his golden, gladiator inspired costume and his lion-themed helmet. Unfortunately, that imagery had been marred by recent events. His helmet sat on the table, visor cracked, and the face that had been oft described as dreamy by many a teenage girl was discolored and bruised, his light-brown hair hanging in limp ringlets.
Director Piggot frowned. Two people were missing, two more members of the Protectorate. One was Miss Militia, who was currently in the hospital. The other…
"Where is Dauntless?" The director's voice cut through the silence like a razor through lace.
"He didn't come in today," Armsmaster explained. "He had a family emergency."
Director Piggot considered that, then nodded. "Very well. Let's discuss today's screwup then."
Piggot's hands slammed down on the table, the sharp retort startling Assault into toppling backwards with a yelp. "How in the festering hell that is Brockton Bay did Fujin know to hit the prisoner transport, the very transport taking his brother from PRT HQ to the Rig for secure holding, and not one of the decoys?"
"Agent Frank Simmons," Armsmaster began, pointedly ignoring Assault as he flailed ineffectually to try and untangle himself from his chair. "Fujin attacked him in his home and tortured him for information."
Emily scowled, her fists tightening painfully. "How is he?"
Assault—having finally untangled himself from his chair and righted himself to Battery's hissed admonitions—clasped his hands on the table in front of him, his face uncharacteristically dour. "Puppy and I checked in on Simmons at Brockton General. Docs had him under sedation; according to a Doctor Patel, Simmons was being treated for acute vacuum exposure." Assault grimaced, his face pinched. "Best we can tell, Fujin kept sucking all the air out of Simmons' lungs until he cracked, then did it again until he passed out."
"Simmons is lucky to be alive," Battery added. "If he'd been deprived of air for much longer…"
Sighing, the director forced her hands to unclench. "I see." She made a mental note to contact Panacea. Yes, the girl's going rate for 'house calls' was hefty, and yes, Panacea regularly volunteered her time at the Hospitals, but her next scheduled visit wasn't for several days yet. Emily would rather not have Simmons wait even that long; after all, she knew from experience that lung injuries were not pleasant, to say the least.
Resisting the urge to rub her chest, Piggot breathed deep. "Alright then, let's move on. Triumph." The battered hero looked up from his abused helmet. "I've read the after-action report, but I want to hear it from you. What happened?"
Triumph dragged a hand down his face. "We were going down Tenth Street. I was in the back with Riajin and…and… one of the agents, I dont remember who it was, um… sorry, I'm… concussion." Triumph waved at his head helplessly, but Piggot just gestured for him to continue. "Um, we'd just cleared South Avenue when, um, a gust of wind overturned the van. Uh… the agent was out cold. I was thrown across the, the hold. Um…" The hero blinked blearily, rubbing his face. "Raijin was still secure. I got up to…check on him, and…uh, um… That's when Fujin blasted the doors and…um… yeah, that's when he got me. I don't remember much after that. Miss Militia was up front with the driver, so she must have worked her way free from the van and gone in pursuit alone."
Director Piggot shook her head. "Dammit, I thought she knew better than that." Letting out an aggravated sigh, the director stood up, frowning at the cracked wood where her right hand had been. "I'll be having words with her when she gets out of the hospital, but for now…" She looked at the other occupants of the room, clasping her hands together behind her back. "Christner." Triumph looked up at the sound of his civilian name, his gaze having drifted. "Go home, you're on medical leave until the concussion wears off."
Once Triumph had wobbled his way out of the conference room, Director Piggot returned her attention to the remaining Protectorate heroes present. "Once the doctors clear Miss Militia for light duty, we'll have a discussion on how to prevent such an attack from happening again. For now, though…"
The director reached down, pressing a button and activating a plasma screen at the far end of the conference room.
"Tell me what you know of the Power Rangers."
Standing straight, Armsmaster took in the scene. Panning his head from one side of the street to the other, the tinker took note of the damages. 'Lichtenberg figures and windswept debris. Definitely Fujin and Raijin's handiwork. The scorch marks are new, though."
Making a note to inspect the battle damage closer, Armsmaster turned on his heel and made his way to the outdoor dining patio of the Fugly Bob's restaurant; specifically, the two paramedics tending to an unconscious Miss Militia. One of the medics looked up at the tinker's approach for a moment, before returning his attention to his patient.
"How is she," Armsmaster asked without preamble once he was close enough.
"She'll live," one of the paramedics, a grizzled old man who sounded like he'd smoked three packs of cigarettes a day in his youth. "Her arm's broken for sure, and she'll have a hell of a headache in the morning," he explained as he carefully placed a brace around Miss Militia's neck.
Armsmaster nodded, then looked closely at the splint holding his colleague's arm still. "That is not a standard splint."
"Naw, that's Uber's handiwork," the medic replied gruffly. "Say what you will about the punk, but he knows his first aid."
Behind his mirrored visor, Armsmaster's eyes narrowed. "Uber and Leet were here?" Though only Uber had been mentioned, he and Leet were nigh inseparable: where one went, the other was sure to follow.
"Yeah, they were," the medic drawled. "Had some girl with them. Didn't recognize their duds, though. Some sort of colorful spandex getup," he pondered as he secured the straps on the neck brace.
"And you didn't stop them?" Armsmaster demanded.
The paramedic snorted. "Son, I'm an EMT, not a police officer. 'Sides, those two and their friend left as soon as the police arrived. Some sort of nifty teleporter dealie." Turning away from Armsmaster, the medic began to speak with his partner.
Recognizing a dismissal when he saw one, Collin left the two to their patient and started walking away, only to stop in his tracks. He stood there, staring at the black scorch mark on the concrete, indicative of a large explosion.
Kneeling down, Armsmaster brushed his armored fingers across the charred ground. Bringing his fingers up and rubbing them together, the tinker frowned. A moment later, a rudimentary scan from the sensors in his helmet confirmed that there was no residue from the explosion present on his fingertips or on the ground.
'Tinkertech, or a blaster, perhaps.' Standing up, Armsmaster went to find whoever was in charge of the crime scene. Hopefully they'd be able to pass on any witness statements and help get to the bottom of this.
Though, the tinker had to admit, things were rarely ever so simple.
---
Materializing in Ranger Ops, Taylor un-morphed and, shaking out her hair, she turned to Mike and Kyle. The two were still morphed up, and though their expressions were hidden behind their helmets, from the manner their heads were casting about, they were completely gobsmacked.
"So," Taylor began. "Is there a reason we left the moment the authorities arrived?"
Kyle looked away from the shiny finish and blinking lights of Ranger Ops. "Huh? Oh, running away, yeah." He paused, then lifted a gloved finger. "Well, technically, while there aren't any arrest warrants out for me or Mike, we don't exactly have a very good relationship with the local PRT or Protectorate."
He lowered his finger, his yellow helmet tilting to the side somewhat sheepishly. "Plus, I don't think Miss Militia has ever really forgiven me for the … spa episode."
Taylor blinked. She hadn't seen that episode. Though what a spa had to do with video games… Perhaps it was best not to ask.
"Speaking of," the red-clad ranger said, a look of worry creasing her face. "Should we have left Miss Militia there like that? It didn't feel very heroic."
Kyle looked at her, then removed his helmet, the seals disengaging with a hiss. Holding the helmet under his arm, the thinker ran his free hand through his hair. "Truth be told, it was really the best thing we could do for her. Though I can master any skill, I am not a paramedic. We made sure she was stable and not in immediate danger, and we left her to the EMTs. Most importantly, we did not move her. If she was suffering from a spinal injury, moving her could have been disastrous," Kyle explained. "Even with Panacea in the city, a spinal injury would not look good. For us, or the PRT."
Taylor grunted and stalked over to a console. Fiddling with the buttons and levers soon activated one of the many screens in Ranger Ops, showing Miss Militia being loaded into an ambulance by paramedics, her broken arm splinted and her neck covered by a brace. Taylor sighed in relief. "Well, it looks like she'll be okay. I hope."
Any further discussion over the Protectorate heroine's health was forestalled by Mike finally coming out of his daze, rushing over to stand uncomfortably close to Taylor. "How'd you do it?"
Blinking, Taylor leaned away from Mike's still helmeted visage. "How'd I do what?"
"This," the blue-suited tinker gestured at Ranger Ops frantically. "How the hell did you build all this in only a few months and keep the power signatures off my sensors?"
"Oh. Well," Taylor began. "I had help from my dad and Alpha," she explained. "As for the power thing…" Taylor smirked. "Well, it helps that we've got like a mile of solid rock above us."
Mike stared at Taylor, his helmet staring blankly at her. "What?"
Taylor pointed up at the ceiling. "Brockton Bay was built on top of an underground reservoir. However, a lot of that reservoir has dried up, plus, there's a ton of old mine shafts down here from way back when."
"Oh yeah, I remember those," Kyle interjected, a thoughtful look on his face. "Someone found a really good vein of iron ore back in the 1800s. Heck, isn't the resulting goldrush the reason Brockton Bay was initially founded?" After a moment of contemplation, the yellow-suited thinker digressed. "So, I'm guessing you found an old mine shaft then and went from there?"
"Yup," Taylor confirmed with a nod. "And with Alpha to do the heavy lifting, it really didn't take much time at all to get everything up and running…though, I will admit that we only just installed all the walls recently," she admitted, waving a hand at the metal walls.
"Wait," Mike interjected, pointing a gloved hand at Taylor. "That's the second time you've mentioned this guy. Who's Alpha?"
Staring at Mike for a moment, Taylor jerked in realization and bopped the heel of her palm off her forehead. "Oh, duh, I never introduced you." Walking over to a console, Taylor pressed down on a seemingly random button. "Alpha, could you come to Ops? We have guests."
A tinny voice sounded from a hidden speaker. ~Guests? Again? Aiyaiyaiyaiyai!~
A few minutes later, the tinny voice echoed into Ranger Ops as one of the doors hissed open. "I swear Miss," Alpha lamented as he shuffled in. "You're going to give me a short circuit if you continue to bring in guests without letting me know ahead of time. I haven't gotten all the rock dust out of the halls yet and…"
Alpha paused, the strip of lights that served as his face blinking rapidly at the sight of Mike and Kyle in their respective uniforms of blue and yellow. The robot turned to Taylor, his lights somehow blinking in an accusatory manner.
"Mistress Taylor, these are not guests."
Taylor quirked an eyebrow quizzically as Kyle and Mike shared a look, Mike finally taking off his helmet. "Oh," the only girl present asked. "What are they then?"
"New teammates, of course," Alpha retorted matter-of-factly. "After all, I doubt you would have given these two morphers if they weren't going to become Rangers." The red and gold robot shuffled towards the blue and yellow pair. "Greetings, I am Alpha."
Gormlessly, Mike and Kyle shook the robot's hand.
"It's uh, it's nice to meet you," Kyle said, somewhat uncertainly.
"Yeah, same," Mike nodded absently, his gaze flitting rapidly over Alpha's form. Eventually, he managed to tear his eyes from the robot. He looked at Taylor, eye full of mock accusation. "Taylor, you didn't tell us you had a robot."
"I didn't?" Taylor frowned, mentally going over the conversations she'd had with the gaming pair. "Huh," she finally allowed. "I guess I didn't." She waved a hand from the pair to Alpha and back. "Well then. Alpha; Mike and Kyle: Mike and Kyle; Alpha."
"It is a pleasure to meet you," Alpha said politely, shaking hands with the gaming pair.
"Likewise," Kyle responded pleasantly, a roguish smile on his face.
Mike, for his part, mumbled out something incoherent while staring at the hand he was shaking. "Fascinating…" Taking Alpha's hand, Mike pulled it close to his face, staring intently as he moved the appendage to and fro. "The shell is clearly mechanical, but the internal mechanisms look almost organic in form. Fascinating."
Alpha stared at Mike, his lights blinking in a nonplussed manner. "Thank you?"
The blue-suited tinker didn't respond, simply continuing to turn Alpha's hand this way and that while muttering under his breath.
Sighing, Kyle dragged a hand down his face before turning to Taylor. "This might take a while."
Taylor stared at Kyle, then slowly panned her gaze to Mike and the increasingly disturbed looking Alpha. Her hand slowly came up to press against her face. "Oy."
---
In a dark room, the man known as Lung lounged in his lazy chair, the TV blaring in front of him and casting shadows across the walls. It was a good day.
Loud noises filtered in through the walls, noises that soon began to coalesce into angry, raised voices. For a moment, Lung hoped it was one of the Baa-chans yelling at a grandson for doing something stupid. Those hopes were dashed when the volume of the voices increased to that of an incoherent screaming, until it was clear that the screaming was actually coming from a single voice.
A very familiar voice.
Lung sighed in exasperation, reaching for the remote.
~Remember, just smile and wave, boys. Smile and-*~
The TV turned off, leaving Lung in darkness.
A moment later, the door opened, and an orange-clad body was tossed into the room, followed shortly by a red-masked man in a green bodysuit.
Raijin lurched to his feet, apoplectic rage written on his charred and soot-covered features. "I'LL KILL THEM! I DON'T CARE HOW MANY OF THE LITTLE BITCHES CRAWL OUT OF THE WOODWORK! I'LL KILL ALL OF THEM, I'LL-*"
A quiet creak cut through the screaming, and Raijin froze mid-tirade. Slowly he turned his head to see Lung. The crime boss was sat upright, his chair no longer reclined, and his elbows resting on the armrests with his fingers wove together before the iron Long mask covering his upper face.
Fujin simply closed the door and stood by it, unmoving. The room was silent as the grave.
"I am disappointed in you, Yasunaga Koetsu," Lung rumbled, breaking the silence.
Raijin flinched, turning deathly pale at the casual use of his real name.
Slowly, Lung stood from his chair, towering over the electrokinetic. Raijin tried to take a step back, only to trip over his own feet and fall to the floor. Lung simply looked down upon the man.
"I sent you," Lung began, his voice rumbling like a cold furnace. "To protect the safehouses. To stop the mouse that was stealing my rice." He looked down, his eyes glowing with repressed fire behind his mask. "You failed."
Raijin worked his jaw, but no words came.
"Chin Ho told me of the plan: to trap the mouse in a cage of lightning. All you had to do was wait. The trap was set, the bait laid." Lung's eyes became two pinpricks of red, burning into Raijin's soul. "But you were impatient. You attacked the mouse, you chased the mouse beyond my territory. And you were captured for it." Fire burst from Lung's eyes, licks of flame curling around the horns of his mask. "I sacrificed many safehouses for the trap to be set, and because of you, I have nothing to show for it."
Raijin tried to scuttle away from Lung, only to run into something hard; a pair of legs blocking his path. He looked up to meet his brother's regretful gaze.
"You will learn patience, Koetsu. Or I shall teach it to you." Lung stepped forward, reaching for Raijin. "Let this serve as a reminder."
The sounds of crackling flames and agonized screams echoed through the night.
---
In an office near the top of the Medhall Medical skyscraper, Maxwell Anders grunted as he flipped through a sheaf of papers stapled together. "Colorful costumes and just as colorful rainbow explosions." He sighed, closing the packet and tossing it onto his desk. "How embarrassing that Troll was defeated by the likes of them."
"For all of his strength," a muffled voice with a faint German accent sounded from the corner of the room. "Troll is the epitome of the phrase 'dumb brute.'"
Max glanced off to the side, briefly taking in the man dressed in the regalia of a gas masked Schutzstaffel Sturmtruppe. "Yes, well, it's a good thing we didn't hire him for his brains then, isn't it, Krieg?" Max replied sardonically. "Still, his capture does put a damper on some of our kneebreaking operations. How soon can we arrange his furlough from the PRT?"
"Unknown," Krieg replied shortly. "My sources reported that the PRT was planning to move him, but with the ABB's attack on their headquarters today, that schedule is now up in the air."
Shaking his head, Max Anders strode to the office window and looked out over the city. "And once again, we are beset upon by barbarians." A silence passed, filling the room.
Finally, Max took a breath, breaking the silence. "Take some men to Little Asia. Burn down some shops, make a statement to their 'Lung-sama,'" he commanded. "And take your niece with you, it's about time she was blooded."
Krieg nodded deferentially. "Very well. And if these new heroes decide to interfere? After all, they seem to have a knack for being in the right place at the wrong time."
Max's eyes hardened, and a forest of steel blades burst from his desktop, shredding the briefing packet into so much confetti in an instant. "You know what to do."
---
The conference room door opened, admitting a blonde woman of severe disposition. She wore a simple business suit, charcoal grey, but she somehow made it look like she was wearing BDUs. From her sculpted cheekbones and the sharp blue eyes to her lithe frame, everything about her was hard, a hardness earned through a lifetime of conflict and strife.
She strode across the room, her pace the confident swagger of a predator who knew they had no equal, her stance the unyielding adamantine of one who had looked into the abyss and made the abyss blink first.
Arriving at the head of the long conference table, she sat and leaned forward, a faint whirring coming from her right arm as she propped her elbows on the table, hand resting on her fist before her face.
If one was to look at the table before the woman, they would have seen a name plaque there.
'Director Emily Piggot, PRT ENE'
For a long moment, Director Piggot was silent, staring at the table's occupants, taking them in.
Closest to her on the left was Battery, a blonde, serious woman with pseudo-electrical powers that allowed her to 'charge' herself, temporarily becoming stronger and more durable as long as the charge held out. She wore a black armored bodysuit with blue circuit designs, a change from her usual green. A matching helmet sat on the table before her.
Next to her was her husband, Assault. A jocular man in red, his blazing, windswept hair and lopsided grin gave him a devil-may-care air. He was a constant ball of energy and movement, which was only multiplied when he absorbed kinetic energy. A visor spun from its strap around his finger as he balanced his chair on two legs.
On the opposite side of the table next to the director sat Armsmaster. Stern, no nonsense, the man exuded professionalism, his back perfectly straight. He sat in a chair specifically designed to hold his bulk; his trademark blue and silver-highlighted power armor too heavy for normal chairs. He still wore his helmet, his chin and an impeccably groomed dark-haired goatee the only parts of his body exposed.
Farther down the table was Triumph. A recent graduate from the Wards program, he cut a valiant figure in his golden, gladiator inspired costume and his lion-themed helmet. Unfortunately, that imagery had been marred by recent events. His helmet sat on the table, visor cracked, and the face that had been oft described as dreamy by many a teenage girl was discolored and bruised, his light-brown hair hanging in limp ringlets.
Director Piggot frowned. Two people were missing, two more members of the Protectorate. One was Miss Militia, who was currently in the hospital. The other…
"Where is Dauntless?" The director's voice cut through the silence like a razor through lace.
"He didn't come in today," Armsmaster explained. "He had a family emergency."
Director Piggot considered that, then nodded. "Very well. Let's discuss today's screwup then."
Piggot's hands slammed down on the table, the sharp retort startling Assault into toppling backwards with a yelp. "How in the festering hell that is Brockton Bay did Fujin know to hit the prisoner transport, the very transport taking his brother from PRT HQ to the Rig for secure holding, and not one of the decoys?"
"Agent Frank Simmons," Armsmaster began, pointedly ignoring Assault as he flailed ineffectually to try and untangle himself from his chair. "Fujin attacked him in his home and tortured him for information."
Emily scowled, her fists tightening painfully. "How is he?"
Assault—having finally untangled himself from his chair and righted himself to Battery's hissed admonitions—clasped his hands on the table in front of him, his face uncharacteristically dour. "Puppy and I checked in on Simmons at Brockton General. Docs had him under sedation; according to a Doctor Patel, Simmons was being treated for acute vacuum exposure." Assault grimaced, his face pinched. "Best we can tell, Fujin kept sucking all the air out of Simmons' lungs until he cracked, then did it again until he passed out."
"Simmons is lucky to be alive," Battery added. "If he'd been deprived of air for much longer…"
Sighing, the director forced her hands to unclench. "I see." She made a mental note to contact Panacea. Yes, the girl's going rate for 'house calls' was hefty, and yes, Panacea regularly volunteered her time at the Hospitals, but her next scheduled visit wasn't for several days yet. Emily would rather not have Simmons wait even that long; after all, she knew from experience that lung injuries were not pleasant, to say the least.
Resisting the urge to rub her chest, Piggot breathed deep. "Alright then, let's move on. Triumph." The battered hero looked up from his abused helmet. "I've read the after-action report, but I want to hear it from you. What happened?"
Triumph dragged a hand down his face. "We were going down Tenth Street. I was in the back with Riajin and…and… one of the agents, I dont remember who it was, um… sorry, I'm… concussion." Triumph waved at his head helplessly, but Piggot just gestured for him to continue. "Um, we'd just cleared South Avenue when, um, a gust of wind overturned the van. Uh… the agent was out cold. I was thrown across the, the hold. Um…" The hero blinked blearily, rubbing his face. "Raijin was still secure. I got up to…check on him, and…uh, um… That's when Fujin blasted the doors and…um… yeah, that's when he got me. I don't remember much after that. Miss Militia was up front with the driver, so she must have worked her way free from the van and gone in pursuit alone."
Director Piggot shook her head. "Dammit, I thought she knew better than that." Letting out an aggravated sigh, the director stood up, frowning at the cracked wood where her right hand had been. "I'll be having words with her when she gets out of the hospital, but for now…" She looked at the other occupants of the room, clasping her hands together behind her back. "Christner." Triumph looked up at the sound of his civilian name, his gaze having drifted. "Go home, you're on medical leave until the concussion wears off."
Once Triumph had wobbled his way out of the conference room, Director Piggot returned her attention to the remaining Protectorate heroes present. "Once the doctors clear Miss Militia for light duty, we'll have a discussion on how to prevent such an attack from happening again. For now, though…"
The director reached down, pressing a button and activating a plasma screen at the far end of the conference room.
"Tell me what you know of the Power Rangers."
BerserkerZeroOne
(Unexploded Supernova)
- Location
- On your left!
What we need right now, to confuse the situation further, is Bulk and Skull.
- Location
- Missouri
So, I just found and binged this, while having Ron Wasserman's work set to random play. The synchronicity was amazing, with classics like Combat, Fight, and We Need A Hero popping up at perfect moments in the story.
The real kicker, though, was when the "Redux" version of Go Green Ranger Go started playing right as Browbeat showed up.
I should go buy a lottery ticket in the morning, or something.
The real kicker, though, was when the "Redux" version of Go Green Ranger Go started playing right as Browbeat showed up.
I should go buy a lottery ticket in the morning, or something.
Heh, I could see that, especially if they were distracting The Trio so Taylor could get away.