Ranger Danger: The Sentai Stupidity of Kevin Cwan

Chapter 2: The Art of the Exploding Pose

“I’M GOING TO DIE!” Kevin’s scream tore through the rushing wind, vibrating inside his own skull.

The concrete rose up to meet him like a grey tide. He squeezed his eyes shut, braced every muscle he didn't know he had, and prepared to be splattered into a localized ecological disaster.

Squeak.

Kevin didn't explode. He didn't even crunch. Instead, he hit the pavement with the sound of a rubber duck being stepped on by a heavy-set man. He bounced once, twice, and then slid five yards across the asphalt, coming to a halt directly at the metallic feet of the giant toaster.

He lay there for a beat, his nose pressed against the smell of tar and ancient gum. Slowly, he opened one eye. Then the other. He wiggled his fingers. He wiggled his toes. Everything seemed to be in one piece, though his dignity was currently in the ICU.

“I’m alive?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m alive. I'm actually alive! Ha! Take that, physics! Take that, mortality! I am Kevin Cwan, the bounceable man!”

“Get up, Green. You look like a discarded yoga mat,” a dry, metallic voice crackled from above him.

Kevin rolled onto his back, looking up to see Yellow Shin standing over him, her arms crossed over her armored chest. She hadn't fallen; she had landed with the practiced grace of a predator, leaving a minor crater in the sidewalk that screamed ‘protagonist entry.’ Beside her stood a tall, gangly man in a shimmering blue suit that looked three sizes too small around the shoulders.

“Trajectory logic seems... flawed,” the Blue one said, adjusting a digital visor on his helmet. “Kevin, by my calculations, you should have at least three broken ribs and a shattered ego. The suit’s inertial dampeners are operating at four hundred percent efficiency. That’s math for ‘you should be a puddle right now.’”

“Blue! Thank god!” Kevin scrambled to his feet, frantically dusting off his glowing emerald crotch. “You’re the math guy? Tell her I need a vacation! I just joined three minutes ago and I’ve already been thrown out of a plane without a parachute!”

“I am Bima Arya,” the Blue suit said, offering a stiff, clinical nod. “And to be precise, you weren't thrown out of a plane. You were ejected from a high-altitude subterranean ventilation shaft. It’s significantly more efficient, though I’ll admit the fireworks are ten seconds late.”

“Fireworks?” Kevin blinked.

Suddenly, a series of bright, glittery explosions erupted in the air behind them. Red, yellow, and green sparks showered down, completely harmless but incredibly distracting.

“Wait, Arya, what did we say about the sequence timing?” Shin barked, not looking away from the giant toaster as it let out a menacing ding. “The sparks are supposed to hit when we strike the pose, not while Kevin is busy checking his underwear for trauma.”

“My apologies, Shin,” Arya sighed, tapping furiously at a wrist-mounted console. “The atmospheric drag was lower than the forecast predicted. I carried the two when I should have divided by the square root of ‘dramatic flair.’ I’ll adjust for the finishing move.”

“Will you guys focus?” Kevin pointed a shaky finger at the building-sized kitchen appliance. “There is a three-story toaster currently loading its slots with white whole-wheat vengeance! Can we do something? Or are we just going to debate the pyrotechnics until we’re all literally toast?”

“Relax, Rookie,” Shin said, her helmet tilting as she scanned the monster. “It’s a Type-2. Level one threats are just for warm-ups. It’s got a predictable reload cycle. Watch.”

The toaster groaned, its top glowing orange. With a sound like a pressurized steam vent, it fired three massive, charred slices of bread. They tumbled through the air, casting huge shadows over the street.

“Incoming car-sized carbs!” Kevin yelled, diving for cover behind a nearby mailbox.

Shin didn't move. She stepped forward, her hand glowing with a faint golden light. With a casual flick of her wrist, she caught the edge of a bread slice and redirected it into a nearby empty fountain. “Arya, analyze the crust. Is it sourdough? If it’s whole grain, the density is higher, and we’ll need to adjust our strike power.”

“Scanning...” Arya said, eyes fixated on his visor. “Negative on the sourdough. It appears to be generic store-brand white. Low structural integrity. High gluten levels, but brittle due to the excessive charring. We can handle it with a basic friendship blast.”

“A what?” Kevin stood up, feeling ridiculous. “A Friendship Blast? Is that the actual technical term? Is our primary weapon the power of platonic affection?”

“Don't be stupid,” Shin snapped. “It’s a high-frequency concentrated ion beam powered by synchronized biometric data. But the marketing department called it the ‘Friendship Blast’ because it tests better with the demographic that funds our R&D. Now, get in position.”

“Position? What position? I’m an accountant!”

“Spread your legs, shift your weight to the left hip, and point your right index finger at the sky,” Arya instructed, moving into a surprisingly flexible lunge. “It feels counterintuitive, but the shift in center of gravity helps align the suit’s internal capacitors.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Kevin groaned, but as he saw the toaster winding up for a massive jam-filled barrage, he mimicked the pose. “Like this? I look like I’m at a disco for people with back problems.”

“Your left shoulder is too low,” Shin grumbled, physically grabbing Kevin and jerking him upright. “Do you want to look like a hero or a wet noodle? Shoulders back. Chin up. Look like you actually have a retirement plan.”

“I don't have a retirement plan! That's why I'm here!” Kevin shouted.

“Silence! It’s charging its final reload!” Arya yelled. “On three! Sync your hearts—and your bladders—to the rhythm of justice!”

“That is the most embarrassing sentence I’ve ever heard,” Kevin whispered, but his suit began to hum. A green light pulsed from his chest, syncing perfectly with the blue and yellow rhythms of his teammates.

“Now!” Shin commanded.

The three of them thrust their hands forward. A massive wave of multi-colored energy erupted from their palms, coalescing into a singular, blinding beam of pure Saturday-morning-cartoon violence. The beam slammed into the toaster, which shivered, vibrated, and began to spark uncontrollably.

“We did it!” Kevin cheered, his hands still vibrating from the power. “I did it! I’m a superhero! Look at me! I’m a force of—!”

“Wait for it, Kevin,” Arya interrupted, checking his watch. “Wait for the secondary detonation logic. We need to be exactly ten paces further back.”

“Why? It’s already dead!”

“Sentai Physics 101, Rookie,” Shin said, grabbing Kevin by the collar and dragging him backward. “The monster always explodes exactly five seconds after it stops moving. And usually, there’s a dramatic fireball that expands at roughly thirty feet per second.”

“Wait, if it’s dead, why does it explode?” Kevin asked, bewildered.

“Because the script says so,” Shin muttered.

BOOM.

The toaster didn't just explode; it disintegrated in a fountain of sparks and smoke. A shockwave rippled through the street.

“Victory pose!” Arya shouted, snapping into a complicated crouch.

“Wait, the explosion is right there!” Kevin yelped.

He was too close. The fiery mushroom cloud expanded faster than Arya had predicted—or perhaps Arya’s math had failed him again. Kevin felt a wave of intense heat as a stray tongue of flame licked the back of his neck.

“MY CAPE!” Kevin screamed, spinning around in circles as the small decorative green flourish on his shoulder began to smolder. “I’m on fire! Why am I on fire? Nobody else is on fire!”

“You were three inches outside the safe zone,” Arya said calmly, standing up and dusting off his pristine blue armor. “I’ll record the data point. Your spatial awareness is, quite frankly, abysmal.”

“I have a second-degree burn on my aesthetic and you’re recording a data point?” Kevin patted out the small fire on his shoulder, leaving a black, singed patch. “Look at this! This suit was probably expensive! Who’s paying for the repairs?”

“It comes out of your first paycheck,” Shin said, walking toward the heap of smoking scrap metal that used to be a kitchen appliance. “Which you’ll get when you survive a month. So far, you’re on minute twelve. Don't get cocky.”

“I am the opposite of cocky,” Kevin huffed, his suit now smelling like burnt spandex and budget toast. “I am very much in favor of going back to the subterranean hole now. Is the orientation over? Can I go eat some actual, non-sentient bread?”

“Not quite,” Arya said, his voice dropping to an octave of genuine concern. “Shin, look at the core.”

Kevin followed their gaze. In the middle of the toaster’s remains, a strange, translucent glob of dough was twitching. It looked like a living creature, glowing with a faint, malevolent purple light.

“What is that? A spare part?” Kevin asked, stepping closer despite every instinct screaming at him not to.

“It’s a catalyst,” Shin hissed, her hand going back to her weapon. “A magic sourdough starter. The Boss always drops one when the minor mobs fail.”

Suddenly, the purple dough shot upwards, hovering in mid-air. It began to swell, absorbing the nearby scrap metal, the sidewalk debris, and even a parked Vespa. The air around them began to vibrate with a low, bone-chilling frequency.

“Wait,” Kevin stammered, looking up as the mass grew ten, twenty, fifty feet tall. “Why is it getting bigger? We already beat it!”

“It’s the second phase,” Arya said, his visor flickering wildly. “The structural integrity is recalibrating for a kaiju-class encounter.”

“You mean...” Kevin’s mouth fell open as the toaster began to reform, only this time, it was as big as a five-story office building. “We have to fight it again? But bigger?”

“Standard protocol,” Shin said, shifting her stance as she looked up at the looming metallic giant. “This is where the fun starts.”

“We have different definitions of fun!” Kevin yelled. “Does this thing have a bigger plug I can pull out?”

The toaster let out a roar that sounded like grinding gears, and its massive slots began to glow with the intensity of a thousand suns.

“Better brace yourself, Green,” Shin added, a hint of a grim smile on her face. “You’re about to find out if the 'Friendship Blast' scales up.”