Yeah sure why not
AlteredTundra
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I saw a one-legged man at the ATM. He was checking his balance.
2 mos ago
- Last Seen: 13 hrs ago
- Old Guild Username: Altered Tundra
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 10692 (2.72 / day)
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2 mos ago
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I saw a one-legged man at the ATM. He was checking his balance.
7
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4 mos ago
Where do bad rainbows go? To a prism. It's a light sentence, but it gives them time to reflect.
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4 mos ago
@LG aw hell yeah! Keepin my eye out for it for sure!
4 mos ago
How do you find Will Smith in the snow? You look for his fresh prints.
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5 mos ago
tfw the colonies have better healthcare than the mainland
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Most Recent Posts
______________________________________ |  ______________________________________________________________________________________ ☼ LOCATION ☼ Castillo-Brady Home ☼ FEATURING ☼ Mom@Venus ______________________________________________________________________________________ |
______________________________________________________________________________________
Tap tap tap
Marco’s left fingers hit his white gaming keyboard at such a speed that the tapping noise was almost like a mild click. His room had posters all over it so the sound didn’t echo as much as it would have had he not decorated it with his K/DA poster that spread from one end of his wall to the next and, if you were to ask him, that was his favorite thing about the amount of LoL merch he has, which includes his Draven shirt and hoodie.
Tap tap tap
“Cover me!” Marco said into his headset.
On his screen, Marco stared intently, his fingers tapping away while on his dominant hand, his hand right clicked and clicked and clicked some more. He mained Master Yi. Might’ve been outdated, but in the four years Marco has been playing League of Legends and the almost two years he’s been taking it seriously, which in the process created a bit of an addiction, he knew his way around him. He could effectively kill other players while taking minimal damage.
And he did.
Alpha Strike and Highlander was always a guaranteed strategy to ensure victory.
And he got it. His team, that is. While he took out most of the enemy players with his perfect timing, his team took out the final turrets and the enemy nexus.
In a moment of triumphant victory, Marco did what he always did.
“They’re always so negative.”
With a sigh, Marco closed out of the LoL window and stood him. His limbs ached and cracked, though his left leg had genuine, grunt-worthy pain. The same leg that was a month off of full recovery. The same leg he got shot in, though it didn’t ache in that way, every time he stood up, Marco felt a certain stiffness in his shin. Sometimes it was mild but other times he felt it in his entire leg.
“Wow, what time is it?” Marco looked to his clock on the wall and immediately grimaced when he realized he had been playing...all night.
And then he shrugged.
It was totally worth it. He racked up at least ten wins in a row, which was a nice small improvement on last night’s win streak of seven. Surely, Marco was on his way to reaching Gold III. It would be a first since he started playing. The furthest he achieved had only been Silver I, so that was something he was looking forward to.
After a few moments of stretching out his limbs, the same stretches he learned from his time at PT, Marco took a spot on the edge of his bed. He yawned at the same time his stomach began to growl.
And so he was faced with a tough choice: ignore his rumbling tummy and sleep away the morning and early afternoon or go out into the kitchen. Both presented their own risks.
For option A, of course, there was the disservice he was giving himself by not eating. Marco wasn’t his brother or sister or even parents when he was hungry. Sure, he was a bit grumpy and yes, even Marco Brady, patron saint of Northie Boston felt that, but he wasn’t an asshole or even an insufferable cunt.
...Not that he would ever say that to Marcy’s face. Marco just healed from an injury, so he’s not stupid enough to risk another and he knew his sister’s kick was almost as precise as his was, so if he said anything meaner than bitch to her face (agian he wouldn’t), he could say goodbye to any future kids he may or may not want.
But more importantly: he wasn’t a dick when he was hungry.
But that brought him to the other end. If he went out there and his mother found out he stayed up all night again... Well, he shivered at the thought of it.
Now, it wasn’t like his mother was going to yell at him or anything. It’s not like he has any classes in the morning or anything. It was more the fact that if he was up now, she’d made him do stuff as punishment.
“It’s early though. And it’s her day off. She wouldn’t be up, would she?”
Now whether it was a larger power forcing him to or just coincidence, Marco glanced over to his door and his heart sank to his bottomless stomach, rumbling as it was, as he saw her in the doorway. She didn’t seem angry but pleased was not a word he’d describe his mother’s face right now.
“Oh! Ma, what’s up? You’re up early!” He said, greeting her with a smile as he stood up somewhat sluggishly. Not exactly what you would call convincing.
“I could say the same thing to you, Güero.”
In regular circumstances, Marlena Castillo-Brady was nothing short of a sweet, kind and warm mother-- the kind that would smother her kids with copious amounts of affection at a moment’s notice. But right now, the lavender silk robe-clad Mexican woman stood in the middle of the boy’s doorway, arms crossed in front of her chest while blocking Marco’s exit. Although her oldest son was significantly taller than her, the level of commanding authority that oozed out of her made it clear who was the clear boss of the house.
“How was your sleep last night? Did you get a good rest?” she asked him with a fake smile, knowing fully well that Marco had spent yet another sleepless night behind his computer monitor playing his life away. The evidence was painted all over his dark circles, heavy eyelids and the way the blue of his irises stood out from his bloodshot eyes.
“Oh, yeah! Totally!” He laughed, which honestly was all the energy he could muster at the moment. Both tired and hungry, Marco’s ability to put on a convincing lie was almost as good as his brother’s attempt at making anything other than cereal. “How about you?” He asked, smiling.
"It was wonderful!" she answered, the smile still in place. "You know, when I woke up to get a glass of water at like 1 AM this morning and then later at 5:30 when I came down here to make your dad some coffee before he left for his shift, I thought I heard you shouting something about 'cover me' this and 'cover me' that. Were you just having a nightmare, sweetie?" she asked him innocently, faking concern. Marlena knew that wasn't the case, but it always amused and entertained her to see just how much Marco was willing to lie to her face.
She heard that? Marco’s laugh dipped a few levels as it became spaced out and dominantly nervous. He didn’t realize just how loud he was, but then again, those noise-canceling headphones his Tio Mateo bought him for his 19th birthday must have worked better than he thought they would. “Oh. No, I didn’t have a nightmare. Or at least, I don’t remember.” When in doubt, Marco played the dumb, clueless son role almost as well as he did Master Yi.
The dark-haired woman tilted her head and raised an inquisitive, perfectly arched eyebrow. "Oh? Then what was it, then?" she curiously asked her son, giving him one last chance to admit to what he'd done before she brought it up herself.
Marco sheepishly hummed, momentarily looking down at his aching feet. For a moment, he considered exactly what he should do. Coming clean might make the blow less embarrassing for him. But on the other hand, he really didn’t want to face the music right now. He didn’t want to hear her usual disappointed tone, especially when it came to this not-so-healthy habit of staying up all night.
As he brought his eyes back up, Marco said, “a very intense dream?”
"Hmmm… Okay…" Marlena looked at her first-born son with an almost thoughtful expression on her face. "So you mean to tell me that every intense dream that you have also happens to include the glare of your computer monitor shining through the crack under your door?"
“I-” Crap, I didn’t even think of that. “Would you believe me if I said I fell asleep at my desk?” Marco asked, giving her a half-assed grin.
The way Marco stumbled over his answer and the twinge of guilt visible in his smile was all the confirmation his mother needed to know that she was right. She flashed him a knowing Chesire cat smile. "I'd believe it if I was born yesterday and didn't know about you playing all night and sleeping all day," she told him, dropping the fake niceness in an instant and settling into her 'I mean business' mode. "And since you clearly feel well enough to be behind a computer screen yelling at a game until your dad wakes up to go to work in the mornings, then I'm going to assume you're also feeling well enough to go outside, walk the dog and fetch the mail while you're at it."
And there it was. Hidden behind the soft hints of the Mexican accent his mother always had, her graceful posture and the eyes that always were full of so much love, trapping him like the idiot he was.
This was the reason why he wanted to avoid going out...anywhere. Why he wanted to sleep despite his stomach that roaring for food, screaming to be fed pancakes and bacon.
Marlie wouldn’t leave until she knew Marco heard what she said. And even though he grimaced through the tension in his legs, he walked over to her dresser and heard the sounds of his mother’s bare feet smack lightly against the smooth wooden floors and he cursed a few times in a subtle murmur. He was so close. So close to being able to sleep and now, because he got so caught up in his game, he had to do a few errands.
“Knowing Ma, it’s not going to stop at just the dog and mail.”
Marco’s left fingers hit his white gaming keyboard at such a speed that the tapping noise was almost like a mild click. His room had posters all over it so the sound didn’t echo as much as it would have had he not decorated it with his K/DA poster that spread from one end of his wall to the next and, if you were to ask him, that was his favorite thing about the amount of LoL merch he has, which includes his Draven shirt and hoodie.
Tap tap tap
“Cover me!” Marco said into his headset.
On his screen, Marco stared intently, his fingers tapping away while on his dominant hand, his hand right clicked and clicked and clicked some more. He mained Master Yi. Might’ve been outdated, but in the four years Marco has been playing League of Legends and the almost two years he’s been taking it seriously, which in the process created a bit of an addiction, he knew his way around him. He could effectively kill other players while taking minimal damage.
And he did.
Alpha Strike and Highlander was always a guaranteed strategy to ensure victory.
And he got it. His team, that is. While he took out most of the enemy players with his perfect timing, his team took out the final turrets and the enemy nexus.
In a moment of triumphant victory, Marco did what he always did.
The Pancake Man: ggwp
DeezNuts: Report Pancake Man
DeezNuts: they cheated
“They’re always so negative.”
With a sigh, Marco closed out of the LoL window and stood him. His limbs ached and cracked, though his left leg had genuine, grunt-worthy pain. The same leg that was a month off of full recovery. The same leg he got shot in, though it didn’t ache in that way, every time he stood up, Marco felt a certain stiffness in his shin. Sometimes it was mild but other times he felt it in his entire leg.
“Wow, what time is it?” Marco looked to his clock on the wall and immediately grimaced when he realized he had been playing...all night.
And then he shrugged.
It was totally worth it. He racked up at least ten wins in a row, which was a nice small improvement on last night’s win streak of seven. Surely, Marco was on his way to reaching Gold III. It would be a first since he started playing. The furthest he achieved had only been Silver I, so that was something he was looking forward to.
After a few moments of stretching out his limbs, the same stretches he learned from his time at PT, Marco took a spot on the edge of his bed. He yawned at the same time his stomach began to growl.
And so he was faced with a tough choice: ignore his rumbling tummy and sleep away the morning and early afternoon or go out into the kitchen. Both presented their own risks.
For option A, of course, there was the disservice he was giving himself by not eating. Marco wasn’t his brother or sister or even parents when he was hungry. Sure, he was a bit grumpy and yes, even Marco Brady, patron saint of Northie Boston felt that, but he wasn’t an asshole or even an insufferable cunt.
...Not that he would ever say that to Marcy’s face. Marco just healed from an injury, so he’s not stupid enough to risk another and he knew his sister’s kick was almost as precise as his was, so if he said anything meaner than bitch to her face (agian he wouldn’t), he could say goodbye to any future kids he may or may not want.
But more importantly: he wasn’t a dick when he was hungry.
But that brought him to the other end. If he went out there and his mother found out he stayed up all night again... Well, he shivered at the thought of it.
Now, it wasn’t like his mother was going to yell at him or anything. It’s not like he has any classes in the morning or anything. It was more the fact that if he was up now, she’d made him do stuff as punishment.
“It’s early though. And it’s her day off. She wouldn’t be up, would she?”
Now whether it was a larger power forcing him to or just coincidence, Marco glanced over to his door and his heart sank to his bottomless stomach, rumbling as it was, as he saw her in the doorway. She didn’t seem angry but pleased was not a word he’d describe his mother’s face right now.
“Oh! Ma, what’s up? You’re up early!” He said, greeting her with a smile as he stood up somewhat sluggishly. Not exactly what you would call convincing.
“I could say the same thing to you, Güero.”
In regular circumstances, Marlena Castillo-Brady was nothing short of a sweet, kind and warm mother-- the kind that would smother her kids with copious amounts of affection at a moment’s notice. But right now, the lavender silk robe-clad Mexican woman stood in the middle of the boy’s doorway, arms crossed in front of her chest while blocking Marco’s exit. Although her oldest son was significantly taller than her, the level of commanding authority that oozed out of her made it clear who was the clear boss of the house.
“How was your sleep last night? Did you get a good rest?” she asked him with a fake smile, knowing fully well that Marco had spent yet another sleepless night behind his computer monitor playing his life away. The evidence was painted all over his dark circles, heavy eyelids and the way the blue of his irises stood out from his bloodshot eyes.
“Oh, yeah! Totally!” He laughed, which honestly was all the energy he could muster at the moment. Both tired and hungry, Marco’s ability to put on a convincing lie was almost as good as his brother’s attempt at making anything other than cereal. “How about you?” He asked, smiling.
"It was wonderful!" she answered, the smile still in place. "You know, when I woke up to get a glass of water at like 1 AM this morning and then later at 5:30 when I came down here to make your dad some coffee before he left for his shift, I thought I heard you shouting something about 'cover me' this and 'cover me' that. Were you just having a nightmare, sweetie?" she asked him innocently, faking concern. Marlena knew that wasn't the case, but it always amused and entertained her to see just how much Marco was willing to lie to her face.
She heard that? Marco’s laugh dipped a few levels as it became spaced out and dominantly nervous. He didn’t realize just how loud he was, but then again, those noise-canceling headphones his Tio Mateo bought him for his 19th birthday must have worked better than he thought they would. “Oh. No, I didn’t have a nightmare. Or at least, I don’t remember.” When in doubt, Marco played the dumb, clueless son role almost as well as he did Master Yi.
The dark-haired woman tilted her head and raised an inquisitive, perfectly arched eyebrow. "Oh? Then what was it, then?" she curiously asked her son, giving him one last chance to admit to what he'd done before she brought it up herself.
Marco sheepishly hummed, momentarily looking down at his aching feet. For a moment, he considered exactly what he should do. Coming clean might make the blow less embarrassing for him. But on the other hand, he really didn’t want to face the music right now. He didn’t want to hear her usual disappointed tone, especially when it came to this not-so-healthy habit of staying up all night.
As he brought his eyes back up, Marco said, “a very intense dream?”
"Hmmm… Okay…" Marlena looked at her first-born son with an almost thoughtful expression on her face. "So you mean to tell me that every intense dream that you have also happens to include the glare of your computer monitor shining through the crack under your door?"
“I-” Crap, I didn’t even think of that. “Would you believe me if I said I fell asleep at my desk?” Marco asked, giving her a half-assed grin.
The way Marco stumbled over his answer and the twinge of guilt visible in his smile was all the confirmation his mother needed to know that she was right. She flashed him a knowing Chesire cat smile. "I'd believe it if I was born yesterday and didn't know about you playing all night and sleeping all day," she told him, dropping the fake niceness in an instant and settling into her 'I mean business' mode. "And since you clearly feel well enough to be behind a computer screen yelling at a game until your dad wakes up to go to work in the mornings, then I'm going to assume you're also feeling well enough to go outside, walk the dog and fetch the mail while you're at it."
And there it was. Hidden behind the soft hints of the Mexican accent his mother always had, her graceful posture and the eyes that always were full of so much love, trapping him like the idiot he was.
This was the reason why he wanted to avoid going out...anywhere. Why he wanted to sleep despite his stomach that roaring for food, screaming to be fed pancakes and bacon.
Marlie wouldn’t leave until she knew Marco heard what she said. And even though he grimaced through the tension in his legs, he walked over to her dresser and heard the sounds of his mother’s bare feet smack lightly against the smooth wooden floors and he cursed a few times in a subtle murmur. He was so close. So close to being able to sleep and now, because he got so caught up in his game, he had to do a few errands.
“Knowing Ma, it’s not going to stop at just the dog and mail.”
______________________________________ |   ______________________________________________________________________________________ ☼ LOCATION ☼ Somewhere on Camp then the Big House ☼ INTERACTING WITH ☼ Mr. D and everyone else (too many to tag) ______________________________________________________________________________________ |
______________________________________________________________________________________
It felt like forever since Vivian was able to actually walk. She couldn't tell you just how freeing it felt to be able to leave the infirmary. Since having that nasty fainting spell that led to a vision that just bled epic fail, Vivian was practically verbally probed by her sister with all sorts of questions that were both necessary, which Vivian understood, but they were also extensive. She always had those kind of visions and especially with the fainting bit. And, of course, she would feel woozy afterward. It was not only a normal occurrence but, come on now! No need to play twenty-one questions, Doctor Kalinda!
But Vivian didn't fault nor blame her half-sister for that. She wasn't even mad.
Yeah, as if Vivian Lucasta was capable of feeling such an emotion. The closest to anger she felt was when she wasn't able to partake in the tower event today. And that, at the very least, was a mild disappointment that may have resulted in her saying heck.
So, here she was, roaming about, leaving Defined Jawline behind, somewhere.
Or maybe he left her behind.
Yeah, it was probably the latter.
Oh well! Vivian was enjoying the rays of the sun hitting her skin. For someone who looked as pasty as she did, people who didn't know she was the Daughter of Apollo might fear she'd get sunburned. But she was in good hands. Not only was she being looked after by her father, but her Legacy was technically the proper God of the Sun.
Helios, the Chariot God. He was super-duper cool. Ironic since he's a sun deity, but Vivian was never one to question that. He's just awesome!
"Oh right!"
Ever the forgetful blonde, Vivian had completely forgotten where she was supposed to be heading.
Not anymoreeee~
As she joined up with the Jawline man, Vivian made her way into the Big House. Funny enough, in the back of her mind, she thought she might be the last one to the party. Vivian always was late to important meetings when she let herself wander about. But minus a couple of people that Mr. D would later ask them about, to which Vivian shrugged at, looking as clueless as ever, she remained silent as he explained the reason her name, along with many others, were called out on the loudspeaker.
And when he was finished, a slow "whoa" that was stretched out a few seconds was her initial reaction.
Internally, Vivian's mind was racing around. The little people in her head, the ones that often led her astray and pointed her to the beach almost every time, they were going back and forth, panicking about what the next course of action should be. If this was the movie Inside Out, Fear and Anger might be having an interesting time at her control panel. Disgust is in the corner, rocking back and forth in the fetal position because, when it came to Vivian Lucasta, they were virtually useless. Joy was wishing Vivian was back by the beach.
Vivian too, Joy. Vivian too.
"So, uhhh..." Vivian spoke up, looking around, trying to process all of this.
There was a moment where her eyes were wide with the hint of something cooking inside that usually empty head of hers. And for a moment, her mouth opened, that California Valley Girl-esque tone of hers half-chirping out a word that sounded something like a question, but then Vivian's lips fell silent, closing as if she had literally forgotten what she was about to say.
With a disappointed expression, she returned to Mr. D's gaze, frowning. "Yeah, I got nothing." She laughed nervously.
Way to make an impression, Vivian. Real MVP material!
Look at you guys posting! I gotta catch up 😂
Let's hope charlie doesn't lose her patience again.
Location — Command Center — Control Room
Interactions — Everyone in the room
"And, like, heart is what really matters. The suit can turn anyone into a badass. This is like, Captain America stuff, y'know?"
"Now, pretty boy over there might have an attitude. But personally, I know he kept me from getting hurt worse before Jordan and Charlie showed up, and that told me a lot. Wouldn't be the first mouthy Ranger we've had."
Okay, it wasn’t that Ross outright disliked Sloane. It was clear that if he wasn’t meant to be chosen, then he wouldn’t have the red crystal. Ross wasn’t so ignorant to that little fact that he’d overlook Sloane. But he just...didn’t like his entitled attitude. And maybe that was because of his last name. And maybe it was due to the fact that he’s been fed by that silver soon his rich family gave him. And maybe it’s because he has struggled to make end’s meet and how his mother has struggled all of his life to always put food on the table.
He knew better, sure. Ross was raised in a house of understanding and compassion. Unfortunately for Ross, SLoane pushed all of his buttons. His name was a touchy subject because his full name — Hiroshi Takahashi — always was memed on. People roasting him on the playground, giving him stupid nicknames because, of course they did. Because kids were cruel. So he went by Ross for as long as he could remember. With Sloane purposely referring to him as Ryan, well that made him want to punch him, but his temporary frustration was temporarily halted as CLint gave them a history lesson.
And after he was finished, Ross took in a breath. His temper was tied to his OCD. Things out of his control frustrated him and he just...had to remember not to let Sloane get to him.
Speaking of..
“They’re not my family, Sloane,” he said, looking at him. “But I know them well. Grace, the little girl who was taken, she’s one of the kids I mentor at the center. I told her everything was going to be okay and I let them down. I--”
Ross was interrupted by CLint, who extended his lesson on a highly firm suggestion that ended with a statement that made him blink confusingly at Clint. “Wait what did you say?” He asked. A few more blinks. “Train? Who? Us?”
The day I become busy would be the day the rp saw activity.
But yay! PAge 3 hype!
Yeah totally get that. I'm sometimes the same way if I'm having an off day. And I deff agree about not only the character chemistry but the writer chemistry here is honestly one of the many things that has made this RP one of my faves atm. Every interaction has been hilarious and amazing!
But yay! PAge 3 hype!
I thought I would mention this because quite frankly I appear and disappear out of this OOC like some geriatric Batman, but I love all you guys' RPing styles and characters. This is probably the most fun I've had in a while. The dynamic is chef's kiss. Which is perfect for an RP about Power Rangers.
Yeah totally get that. I'm sometimes the same way if I'm having an off day. And I deff agree about not only the character chemistry but the writer chemistry here is honestly one of the many things that has made this RP one of my faves atm. Every interaction has been hilarious and amazing!
I feel like now we'll be seeing some of Ross' brattiness kick in huehuehue
Location — Command Center — Control Room
Interactions — Everyone in the room
Anything between (JP) and (NJP) is to be assumed it's spoken in Japanese
Amidst the aftermath of the chaos, curiosity burned in Ross' mind, and after Sloane walked up, possibly interrupting the Purple Ranger as he so intentionally referred to Ross by the wrong name again, anger towards McCabe was steadily rising like water in a tea kettle. It wasn't a difficult thing to grasp. His name is Ross, not Ryan. He's not fucking Deadpool! It didn't matter how attractive Ryan Reynolds was or how iconic his movies are. He wasn't Gosling either.
Actually, now that Ross was thinking about it, a lot of famous Ryans were insanely attractive. He might not be outwardly bisexual, but Ross could acknowledge one man's level of hotness. And boy were they smoking, like a platter of spicy tuna made human.
Right. Don't get sidetracked. We're mad at Sloane right now! Fōkasu, Hiroshi! Fōkasu!
"I don't know how many times I have to tell you: my name is Ross, not Ryan!" He'd clarify for whatever the number of times was right now.
"Jesus, Ross. Are you okay?"
A few seconds later, Ross heard Val ask if he was alright and he nodded. "Yeah. Guess I hit the ground a few too many times." Though he laughed it off, Ross could imagine how that might make him sound. Like hey, here's a dude that just hits the ground for fun!
Moments after, as the other rangers chimed in, Ross was dealt a rather jarring dose of reality. Despite them being rangers, it became apparent that they weren't the holy figures that he remembered them to be, or that they shouldn't be held on a pedestal like certain Amazons he knew probably did. Granted, Ross wasn't a superfan. He admired them for what they represented and no doubt influenced him to become the best version of himself he could be, but as the blue and green Rangers bickered, Ross figured there was a lot more under the surface than what they allowed the public to show. That, at least, he could understand. There was certainly a lot more to Ross than just his charitable nature and obviously good looks.
At some point, Ross found himself a bit distracted by the blue and green Rangers going at it (mainly the blue just saying so many words at him) that he didn't have a chance to prepare himself for the Purple Ranger speaking in an elevated tone. He could have sworn he left his body for the slightest second as his heart nearly stopped.
And then she informed everyone of the plan: either hitch a ride with the cowboy or find your own way to...the command center? Right because of course, the Power Rangers have a command center.
Considering that this wasn't a matter of making sure people knew where he was going. Those who were still lingering about would be safe, what with the cops not far behind, so what was really keeping him around? Nothing, that's what.
"Alright Mr. Green, I'm hitching with you if that's okay!" Ross didn't always do this, but he bowed before following him and took a seat in the back of his truck. Being brought up by honor, particularly by his O bāchan, Ross always found ways to show respect whenever he could.
Bowing to the Green Ranger was just a way of doing that, though he couldn't help but wonder about this Command Center and just what the hell he and the others were in store for.
"Guess there's only one way to find out," he muttered under a breath.
As they arrived, Ross was on his phone. The quiet sounds of the truck stopping in front of some large building served as background noise as Ross talked on his phone.
(JP)”I’m safe, mom. Don’t worry. I know it’s scary, but you don’t have to worry.” Ross expelled a frustrated voice as he climbed out of the truck.
“Hiroshi. Where are you? Are you okay?” His mother said, her voice full of concern.
Ross smiled, looking around. The others hadn’t noticed him on the phone, though he knew he couldn’t tell his mother where he was exactly, but he also felt terrible that he had to lie to her. But he also knew that this wasn’t something he could let anybody know. “Mama, it’s okay. Listen, I’m safe. I’ll be home soon, okay? Tell Papa that I’m safe. I’ll bring home some food in a little bit, okay?”
“Hiroshi, I’m just worried. The news is saying--”
Ross cut her off. “The media embellishes, Mama. You know this. Just let everyone know I’m okay and when everything settles down, I’ll call you, okay?”
“Okay, Hiroshi! But make it as soon as possible!”
Ross laughed and smiled, “yes, Mama! But I have to go. Talk to you later! Love you, Mama!”
“Love you too, my Hiro!”
(NJP)
Again, Ross hated lying to his mother. Honestly, he hated the whole concept of lying. It never sat right with him.
Part of the reason people at the center trusted him and relied on him so much was that he could always be depended on to tell the truth to anyone that wanted it. He wasn’t cruel or brutal about it. He was honest and that was something a lot at the center valued. Ross could tell them his opinion about whatever they ask him about and know that there was never any intent to demean or criticize. Plus, it didn’t hurt that they thought he was right.
But it wasn’t like Ross couldn’t tell the difference between a lie that was hurtful and one that was for their own safety.
And whether he liked it or not, lying about being at some abandoned building was, in his eyes, a necessary white lie.
Of all places, being at the old GENESIS HQ was the last place Ross ever expected to be a command center.
“Hiding in plain sight and all that, I guess.” He scratched the back of his head as he followed the others inside.
As they were led inside, Ross had a few thoughts going in, but all of them took a backseat to his curiosity as his head rotated several times over, taking in the sights.
In all the time he’s lived in Angel Grove, knowing that he knew the city like the back of his hand or his love for wasabi, Ross had never been inside this building. Of course, he wasn’t the kind of kid — back then, at least — who ever needed a reason to be inside. He wasn’t from a well-off family like Sloane or had any technical prowess like some of his cousins did. Hell, he didn’t come from a family with connections.
So he wanted to take in the sights of the building and everything in between. No telling how many chances he might be earned, given the state of everything right now.
As The Purple Ranger commented about how she was assuming they were underwhelmed about the state of the ‘Command Center’, that wouldn’t be his way of putting it. But now that she mentioned it, he couldn’t help but note that it was a little run down. Though, with a working elevator, it must be just fine.
At least, that’s what Ross thought.
When they were lowered to the basement that The Purple Ranger hinted at, his first thought was how decked out everything was. He wasn’t a computer person. His cousin Kenji was. If Kenji were here, he might get on the purple rangers nerves. But Ross? He was still stuck on the whole aesthetic of what he was looking at. Monitors, the central platform, all of those lights and buttons — it was all a little much.
“This is...impressive,” he managed to say before The Purple Ranger started to speak.
And that’s when they found out the names. “Charlie? Okay, I’ll be sure to remember that!” He nodded, giving her, Clint, and Jordan all each a quick bow with his palms pressed together, arms bent, and fingers a few inches under his chin.
While he did that, he heard Vallory attempt to speak, specifically about her being the Pink Ranger and the size of the uniform.
“I’m a bit curious about this Morphing Grid thing,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head. “I mean, what exactly is it? And also, while I’m at it, what made it choose us? I’ll admit, I know I do a lot of good work at the center and I do try and help out whenever I can, but does that really qualify me to be a Ranger” Ross looked at Vallory for a quick moment before returning back to Charlie. “Vallory I understand because she’s not only physically impressive, but she’s pretty amazing as a person, too. But, uh..” Ross’ eyes darted to Sloane, narrowing them in a glare. “Referring to the crystals as a participation crystal can’t make someone worthy, can it?”
Boy oh boy do i love this idea
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