Ranger Danger: The Sentai Stupidity of Kevin Cwan

Chapter 4: The Stalker with the Clipboard

The Aegis-Mover groaned one last time, a piece of industrial duct tape finally losing its battle with gravity and fluttering down onto the pavement like a dead moth. Inside the cramped cockpit, Kevin Cwan felt his soul slowly re-entering his body.

“Is it over?” Kevin wheezed, leaning his forehead against a joystick that was sticky with what he hoped was honey from Vandolf’s morning tea. “Please tell me the toaster is in the great scrap yard in the sky.”

“It’s down, Green. You can stop vibrating now,” Yellow Shin’s voice crackled through the comms. “But don’t get comfortable. We had a looky-loo.”

“A what? Like a tourist?” Kevin asked, fumbling for the door lever. “I hope they got my good side. The left side of this suit hides the fact that I haven't done a sit-up since the Obama administration.”

“No, not a tourist,” Shin said, her voice dropping into that low, dangerous register that usually preceded someone getting kicked in the chest. “An observer. High-altitude, heavy armor, purple accents. She was watching from the helipad on the Miller Building. Arya, you get a read on that?”

“Energy signature was off the charts,” Arya’s voice chimed in. “But oddly refined. Like a gourmet cupcake filled with weapons-grade plutonium. She’s vanished from the sensors, but my predictive algorithm says she hasn't left the five-block radius. Kevin, you’re the closest. We need a visual. Go undercover.”

Kevin successfully forced the cockpit hatch open and tumbled out, landing in a heap near a pile of warm, toasted asphalt. “Undercover? In this? I’m glowing, guys! I am literally an emerald beacon of public property damage!”

“Look in the storage compartment near the rear axle,” Shin commanded. “Vandolf keeps a civilian kit there for emergency recon.”

Kevin scrambled to the back of the excavator-arm and yanked open a small, rusted panel. Inside sat a beige trench coat that smelled of mothballs and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses with zero prescription.

“You’re joking,” Kevin muttered, pulling the coat over his spandex. “I look like three toddlers in a trench coat trying to get into an R-rated movie.”

“It’s perfect,” Hudson’s voice drawled. “You look so fundamentally unthreatening that most people will assume you’re just a confused census taker. Now move. The target was headed toward the shopping district.”

“What if she recognizes me?” Kevin hissed, adjusting the glasses as he ducked into a nearby alley.

“Kevin, with those glasses and that coat, you barely look like a human being, let alone a Ranger,” Arya added helpfully. “Go. She’s at a place called 'The Roasted Bean.' Apparently, even harbingers of doom need a caffeine fix.”

Ten minutes later, Kevin stood outside a trendy coffee shop, his heart hammering against his ribs. Through the window, he saw her. She was sitting at a small table near the back, the obsidian-and-violet armor replaced by a simple, form-fitting black turtleneck. She was checking a metallic-looking tablet, her expression one of utter boredom.

“I’m in,” Kevin whispered into his lapel. “She looks... normal. Well, besides the fact that she looks like she could kill me with a latte stirrer.”

“Initiate contact,” Shin ordered. “Find out who she’s working for. And try not to pee yourself.”

Kevin took a deep breath, adjusted his glasses, and walked inside. The smell of roasted beans and pretentious indie music hit him. He scanned the room, looking for a way to get close without being obvious.

“Table for one?” a perky hostess asked, holding a clipboard.

“Uh, yeah. I mean, I’m meeting someone!” Kevin blurted out, his eyes darting to Tsania’s table. “That girl! In the black! We’re... it’s a date!”

The hostess looked at Kevin’s oversized beige coat, then at Tsania’s elegant, cool demeanor. She looked skeptical. “Oh! You must be the 'Kevin' from the Blind-Date-Express app. She’s been waiting. Right this way!”

Kevin froze as the hostess marched him directly to Tsania’s table.

“Your date is here!” the hostess announced loudly, practically shoving Kevin into the empty chair opposite the villainess.

Tsania looked up from her tablet. Her eyes, a sharp, piercing violet, narrowed as they raked over Kevin’s disheveled appearance.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice like ice over velvet.

“I’m Kevin!” he squeaked, then cleared his throat. “I mean... hey. I’m Kevin. From the app. Blind-Date-Express. Surprise?”

Tsania stared at him for a solid five seconds. Kevin felt sweat beginning to pool under his collar. Just as he was about to bolt, she let out a short, melodic huff of a laugh.

“The app,” she repeated, setting her tablet down. “My sister said she’d set me up. I didn't think she meant with a guy who looks like he’s hiding stolen watermelons in his coat. But whatever. I need a break anyway. Sit down, Kevin.”

Kevin sat, his knees knocking against the table. “So... you come here often? Or are you just in town for the giant-toaster-related destruction?”

Tsania arched an eyebrow. “It was a bit excessive, wasn't it? The construction trucks were a particularly tacky touch.”

“Tacky? That was engineering genius!” Kevin defended, then quickly remembered his cover. “I mean, that’s what people are saying online. I’m just a guy who likes... logistics. I find monster-fighting logistics very interesting.”

“Logistics, huh?” Tsania leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Tell me, 'Kevin.' If you were designing a monster, would you use a toaster? Or would you go for something with more... structural integrity?”

“Definitely not a toaster,” Kevin said, warming up to the topic. “The power-to-weight ratio is all wrong. And don't get me started on the slots. You’re just begging for someone to jam a oversized lever in there. If I were Evil Corp—and I’m not, obviously—I’d go with a pressure cooker. High-pressure steam, solid casing, minimal weak points.”

Tsania looked genuinely surprised. “A pressure cooker. That’s actually... somewhat insightful. Most people just say 'dragons' or 'big lizards.' You’re a weird one, Kevin.”

“I get that a lot,” Kevin muttered. “So, what do you do? You don’t look like you’re in the monster business. You look like you... analyze things? Very professionally?”

“You could say that,” she replied, taking a slow sip of her espresso. “I work for a large, multi-national conglomerate. We specialize in hostile acquisitions. I’m here to evaluate the local market. It’s been underwhelming so far.”

“Underwhelming? There was a robot porta-potty cannon!” Kevin whispered fiercely.

“Exactly,” Tsania sighed. “The incompetence is staggering. Especially that Green one. Did you see him bounce? It was like watching a tennis ball with an identity crisis.”

Kevin’s eye twitched. “He’s doing his best! He probably has a very low salary and zero dental insurance! You can’t expect him to be perfect right out of the gate!”

“Why do you care so much about the Green Ranger?” she asked, her gaze sharpening again.

“I just relate to him,” Kevin said quickly. “The feeling of being thrown into something you’re not qualified for. It’s a very relatable aesthetic.”

“I suppose,” she conceded. “But enough about the city falling apart. My sister said you were a 'dynamic professional.' What exactly do you do when you aren't defending superheroes?”

“I’m an accountant,” Kevin said, which was technically the truth. “Well, freelance. I do spreadsheets. I make sure numbers stay in their little boxes.”

Tsania looked him over again, her eyes lingering on the way his oversized glasses were sliding down his nose. “An accountant in a moth-eaten trench coat. You’re almost charmingly pathetic, Kevin.”

“Hey, that’s the most positive feedback I’ve had all week,” Kevin said, feeling a strange surge of relief. “Is that what you like? Pathetic guys?”

“I like simplicity,” Tsania said, standing up. “My job is full of people trying to be grand, powerful, and terrifying. Meeting someone who is just... a mess... is oddly refreshing. Here.”

She slid a napkin across the table with a series of numbers written on it.

“Is this your number?” Kevin asked, blinking.

“It’s a secure channel,” she said with a cryptic smile. “Maybe next time, we can talk more about the pressure cooker idea. You have potential, in a very lowly, entry-level sort of way.”

As she walked toward the door, she paused, looking back over her shoulder. “Oh, and Kevin? Tell your 'friends' in the bushes to stay down. Their foliage camouflage is terrible.”

She vanished into the crowd before Kevin could respond.

“Did you get that?” Kevin whispered into his lapel. “She gave me her number! Also, she knows you’re in the bushes!”

“I know,” Shin’s voice came through, sounding irritated. “We were watching the whole time. Hudson is crying because she called our camo tacky.”

“She thinks I’m a pathetic accountant!” Kevin cheered quietly. “Mission accomplished!”

“Don’t celebrate yet,” Arya’s voice cut in, urgency rising. “Kevin, get out of there. My thermal sensors are detecting a massive spike in heart rate coming from the alleyway behind you.”

“What? Why?” Kevin looked around.

Suddenly, the front window of the coffee shop didn't just break—it disintegrated. A massive figure in thick, earth-toned armor with a spiked club for a hand smashed through the glass, sending tables flying.

“RRRRAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!”

“Bellamy!” Kevin screamed, recognizing the name Vandolf had mentioned earlier as a potential threat.

The armored giant stood in the middle of the coffee shop, shards of glass stuck to his hide. He raised his massive club high, his eyes fixed on where Tsania had just been standing.

“TSANIA! YOU SAID NO BREAKS!” Bellamy roared, his voice shaking the remaining espresso cups into pieces. “WORK TIME! KILL TIME!”

Kevin stood frozen, holding his 'number' from a villainess, still dressed like a detective from a budget noir film.

“Uh, guys?” Kevin said into his collar. “The date is over. And I really, really wish I hadn't ordered that second latte.”