Ranger Danger: The Sentai Stupidity of Kevin Cwan

Chapter 6: Budget Cuts and Bus Rides

The high-pitched whine of the giant robotic vacuum cleaner finally cut out, replaced by a series of pathetic mechanical gurgles. The street, previously littered with the wreckage of a coffee shop and several mid-sized sedans, was now unnervingly, surgically clean. Even the asphalt looked like it had been polished with a toothbrush.

Kevin Cwan let go of the lamppost, his fingers cramped into claws. He slumped to the ground, his emerald-green spandex squeaking against the pristine pavement.

“Is it dead?” Kevin wheezed, checking to see if his ears were still attached. “Did we win, or did we just get professionally tidied up?”

“It’s retreating to its dock for a recharge cycle,” Bima Arya said, his blue visor flickering as he scanned the empty street. “Technically, a tactical stalemate. But on the bright side, the city’s hygiene rating just went up by forty percent.”

“I don’t care about the hygiene rating! I almost got turned into a dust bunny!” Kevin scrambled to his feet, dusting off his singed shoulder. “Vandolf! Get us out of here! I need a shower, a therapist, and a burrito the size of my head. Beam us up, Scotty!”

The comms crackled. Instead of the usual humming of the teleportation sequence, there was the sound of someone frantically crunching on a bag of pretzels.

“Ah, about that,” Vandolf’s voice crackled, sounding uncharacteristically sheepish. “I’ve been looking at the utility bills for the bunker. Do you have any idea what the surge pricing is for a localized wormhole during rush hour?”

“Vandolf,” Yellow Shin said, her voice dropping into a tone that usually signaled a looming homicide. “Tell me you aren’t saying what I think you’re saying.”

“The energy grid is under immense strain, Shin! If I pull another three gigawatts to bring you home, the entire North Side will go dark, and I’ll lose my high-speed connection for the Friday night poker tournament!” Vandolf protested. “I’ve had to implement some... aggressive fiscal restructuring.”

“Fiscal restructuring?” Kevin’s eyes widened behind his mask. “You’re the head of a secret global defense initiative! Just use the black-budget money!”

“That money went into the porta-potty cannons for your robot, Kevin! Do you know how much custom-molded plastic costs these days?” Vandolf snapped. “Anyway, I’ve deactivated the teleporters for the next six hours. You’ll have to find your own way to the next waypoint.”

“Find our own way?” Hudson, the Black Ranger, stepped out from behind a miraculously clean dumpster, looking horrified. “I am wearing a three-million-dollar suit of experimental obsidian-alloy armor. You expect me to... what? Walk?”

“Don’t be dramatic, Hudson,” Vandolf said. “I’ve already mapped your route. There’s a stop for the #42 bus just two blocks over. It’ll take you straight to the Downtown District. I’ve even pre-loaded your biometric signatures into the city’s transit app. You’re welcome!”

The comms went dead.

The four Rangers stood in the middle of the silent, polished street. A lone piece of confetti drifted through the air.

“The bus,” Kevin whispered. “He wants us to take the bus. In spandex. Without our helmets.”

“Actually,” Arya noted, tapping his chin, “the helmets are the only part that would make us stand out. If we take them off, we’ll just look like very dedicated, very fit participants in a local fun-run. Or perhaps a low-budget bachelor party.”

“I am going to kill him,” Shin muttered, reaching for the latches on her helmet. “I am going to find his secret stash of vintage vacuum tubes and I am going to crush them one by one.”

With a series of pressurized hisses, the four of them removed their helmets. Kevin took a deep breath of the city air, which currently smelled like industrial-strength lemon floor-wax.

“Okay,” Kevin said, trying to flatten his sweat-matted hair. “We can do this. We’re professionals. We just saved the city from a giant toaster and a vacuum. A public bus is nothing.”

“Speak for yourself,” Hudson sneered, looking down at his sleek black chest piece. “This suit doesn’t have pockets. Where am I supposed to put my dignity?”

“Just keep it in your mouth so you’ll stop talking,” Shin snapped, marching toward the bus stop.

The walk to the stop was the longest two blocks of Kevin’s life. Every time a car passed, he tried to look like he was intentionally wearing neon-green lycra in broad daylight.

“Stop acting suspicious, Kevin,” Arya whispered, walking with a stiff, robotic gait. “According to my calculations, if we maintain a confident stride, seventy-eight percent of observers will assume we are ‘influencers’ filming a viral challenge.”

“I hate this century,” Kevin groaned.

They reached the stop just as the #42 bus pulled up, hissing and puffing as it knelt toward the curb. The doors folded open, revealing a bus driver who looked like he hadn't slept since the mid-nineties.

Shin stepped up first. The driver stared at her yellow tactical suit, then at the glowing power-core in the center of her chest.

“No smoking on the bus,” the driver said flatly.

“It’s a cold-fusion reactor, not a cigarette,” Shin growled.

“Whatever. Tap your phone,” the driver sighed.

Shin tapped her wrist-comm against the scanner. Beep.

Kevin followed, feeling the weight of twenty pairs of eyes from the passengers already on board. He hopped onto the bus, his green suit squeaking with every movement.

“Do you guys have a group rate?” Kevin asked, trying to sound casual.

“Just sit down, Robin Hood,” the driver muttered.

The bus was packed. The only available seats were scattered near the back. Kevin found himself squeezed into a window seat next to an elderly woman wearing a floral-print hat and holding a very small, very angry-looking Chihuahua.

“Nice outfit, dear,” the woman said, squinting at Kevin through thick glasses. “Are you one of those ‘Power Joggers’?”

“Uh, yeah,” Kevin lied, clutching his helmet to his lap. “It’s a... it’s a new startup. We jog to save the environment. It’s very green. Obviously.”

“My grandson does that,” she nodded. “He’s a ‘Life-Coach.’ He doesn't have a job either.”

“I have a job!” Kevin protested, then lowered his voice as Shin glared at him from across the aisle. “I mean, it’s freelance. It’s complicated.”

“Is that a flashlight on your chest?” she asked, pointing to his glowing emblem.

“It’s a safety feature,” Kevin said. “For, you know, night-jogging.”

Beside them, the bus lurched forward, throwing Hudson into the lap of a disgruntled businessman.

“Watch the finish!” Hudson hissed, scrambling back to the handrail. “This armor is worth more than your entire retirement portfolio!”

“Then maybe you should’ve bought a car, Sparky!” the businessman barked back.

Arya, meanwhile, was staring intensely at the digital display at the front of the bus. “Shin, at the current rate of seventeen stops per mile and an average boarding time of forty-two seconds, we will reach the monster’s coordinates in approximately twenty-four minutes. The monster’s current rampaging speed suggests it will have leveled three city blocks by the time we arrive.”

“Can’t you do anything about the traffic?” Shin whispered harshly.

“I’m a Blue Ranger, not a traffic warden!” Arya replied. “Unless you want me to hack the city’s light grid and cause a forty-car pileup, we’re stuck behind this garbage truck.”

Kevin leaned his head against the window, watching the city roll by. It was surreal. Ten minutes ago, he was fighting for his life. Now, he was listening to a Chihuahua growl at his emerald-plated kneecaps.

“Hey, Kevin,” a voice whispered.

Kevin turned. A few rows up, a young woman was holding up a smartphone, her eyes wide with excitement. It was Hellen, the local news reporter he’d seen on TV. She didn't have her camera crew, but she was definitely filming with her phone.

“Oh god,” Kevin muttered, pulling his helmet up to hide his face. “Shin, we’ve been spotted.”

“Ignore her,” Shin commanded. “She’s just a civilian. If she gets too close, I’ll tell her we’re a traveling circus troupe.”

The bus finally screeched to a halt at the Downtown District. The doors opened, and the four Rangers practically tumbled out, gasping for air.

“Finally!” Hudson shouted, striking a pose. “The stage is set! The Black Ranger has arrived to—!”

He stopped. They all stopped.

The intersection was supposed to be a war zone. Vandolf had warned them about a “Type-3 Urban Devastator.” Kevin expected fire, screaming, and giant monsters throwing buses.

Instead, they saw a massive, six-legged mechanical beast that looked like a cross between a bulldozer and a spider. It was currently holding a large bucket of high-grade asphalt in one of its pincers.

The monster wasn't destroying anything. It was... filling a pothole.

A small crowd of commuters stood on the sidewalk, clapping politely.

“What is it doing?” Kevin asked, blinking.

“It appears to be... performing municipal maintenance,” Arya said, his visor whirring as it re-calibrated. “Wait. I’m detecting a boredom-signature. The monster’s AI logic has pivoted. Since no heroes arrived to provide a combat stimulus, it defaulted to its secondary programming: ‘Urban Reconfiguration.’”

“You’re telling me the monster got bored of waiting for us and started doing community service?” Shin asked, her voice trembling with rage.

“Look at that leveling,” the businessman from the bus said, stepping onto the sidewalk. “Better than the city crews. Hey, big guy! There’s a sinkhole on 5th and Main!”

The monster let out a happy, mechanical beep and scuttled toward the next street, carefully avoiding the crosswalk.

“We can’t let it do that!” Kevin shouted. “We’re the Rangers! We’re supposed to stop it!”

“Stop it from what, Kevin?” Hudson asked. “Improving the infrastructure? If we attack it now, we’re the villains! Look at the PR! The headlines will read: ‘Local Heroes Assault Helpful Robot.’”

“But if we don't fight it, we don't get paid!” Kevin hissed. “Vandolf said our performance bonuses are tied to 'Threat Neutralization.' A robot that fixes potholes isn't a threat!”

Shin looked at the monster, then at her team, then at the reporter, Hellen, who was now standing five feet away, capturing the whole thing on a livestream.

“Rangers,” Shin said, her voice cold. “Put your helmets on.”

“Why?” Kevin asked.

“Because we’re going to go over there, and we’re going to provoke that thing until it tries to kill us,” Shin said, snapping her helmet into place. “I didn't spend twenty minutes on a public bus just to watch a giant spider play Bob the Builder.”

“Wait, is that ethical?” Kevin asked, even as he slid his own helmet on.

“It’s job security, Green,” Hudson said, drawing his pistol. “Now, go over there and say something mean about its mother’s motherboard.”

Kevin sighed, his green suit glowing as he stepped toward the monster. “Hey! You! Overgrown Tonka toy! Your... uh... your pavement-to-gravel ratio is sub-optimal! And your mother was a defective Roomba!”

The monster paused. Its glowing red eyes turned toward Kevin. It dropped its bucket of asphalt.

Targeting logic updated, a deep, synthesized voice boomed from the machine. Hostility detected. Resuming 'Urban Devastation' protocols.

“Finally!” Kevin cheered, jumping into a fighting stance. “Come on then! Do your worst!”

As the monster roared and prepared to swing a massive hydraulic leg, Kevin caught a glimpse of Hellen’s phone screen. The live-chat was scrolling so fast he couldn't read it, but the title of the video was clear: “RANGERS ATTACK PUBLIC WORKS BOT – ARE THEY THE BAD GUYS?”

“Oh, man,” Kevin muttered, ducking under a massive metal pincer. “HR is going to have a field day with this.”