Red and Blue Make... A Big Mess?

Posted on Sun Aug 14th, 2022 @ 8:46pm by Damien McGinnis & Spencer Gustaffson

2,634 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: The Invasion
Location: GPF HQ, gymnasium
Timeline: November 15th 2050, 1730

Spencer knew that the Rangers had only managed to survive that fight by the skin of their teeth. Whether it was because they were all (himself included) Cadets and needed more training, or for any other reason that escaped him, they'd barely gotten out of it with the fact that there were now four active Rangers on their side, and the guy in Orange that showed up to throw an emergency beacon at them. It was illegal for them to be Rangers, and obviously, dangerous. And yet, in the midst of that fight, he'd felt like he was truly alive for the first time in ages. It was the same as he'd felt years ago, when he was a young punk in fencing school, starting with rapier and saber; with the real swordfights he'd gotten into as a result.

He'd calmed down over the years, and recognized martial arts as a way toward inner peace; which was why he'd studied so many of them from so many cultures, even a brief dabble in Aquitian swordfighting and a futile attempt at Triforian Staff (not having three bodies made that one difficult). Trying to justify all that in his mind, and trying not to blame himself for Kilena's injury, he walked into the gym with a blunt practice sword hanging from his hip.

He took a deep breath when he saw Damien in another section of the gym. Approaching the training dummy, he drew the sword and began whaling on it, his skill and strength obvious even to those who weren't trained in any of the arts he knew. Still, this wasn't about a practice session for technique. This was about working out his rage - and it showed from the dents he was putting into his foam target. He was trying to avoid a confrontation with Damien or anyone else. But right now, he needed someone to blame - and the Red Ranger seemed like a good target. After all, he was nominally the leader. So after a heavy one-handed strike that almost decapitated the dummy, he stepped back. Advances in technology were amazing, and the material in the dummy was no exception as it swiftly reknit into its proper shape. In his anger, he didn't realize that he hadn't sheathed his weapon.

That meant that Spencer was walking toward Damien after taking something's head off, holding a sword and with one hell of a glare.

"You sure showed that thing." Damien said, barely glancing away from the punch bag he was hitting "I don't know about you, but I find it easier to focus when I'm in here. It's just simpler when you're punching something. Especially something that doesn't turn around and punch you right back."

He stopped, looking around to Spencer. He paused for a moment, looking between the sword and the other man's expression. He rolled his eyes after a moment.

"You had the same thought I'm guessing." Damien stated, picking up his towel and dabbing his face down "Put down the sword, blue boy. You want to throw down, we'll throw down, but I'm not duelling you to the death. This isn't Star Trek and you certainly aren't Mr. Spock."

Spencer stopped and sheathed the saber on his hip, realizing that Damien was right. He nodded at the thought of beating something up though. "There's a simplicity to a fight - most of the time. Just focusing on form, and delivery of strike, is a lot easier than thinking about everything else going on."

The glare didn't ease up, though. He took a deep breath and looked at Damien. "Keithron could have died out there, McGinnis. I don't think you really care how close she came to it, because you're more worried about being some kind of superhero. If I hadn't gotten pressure on the wound and held the bleeding back, or if it had gone millimeters deeper or to the side, she could have died. And if that guy in orange hadn't shown up, we could have lost her anyway. That's not acceptable. Either we need to figure out how to explain everything that happened and get training on these weapon platforms, officially, or we need to figure out how to do it unofficially - and quick. Whoever that woman was, she's a damn good fighter and experienced in polearms - I don't think I can take her if it was my best day and her worst, not as is. But it wasn't just our lack of training that got our asses stomped - it was you going off and hot-dogging with that fight you had with that other bastard, leaving me to cover both of them."

The Blue Ranger shook his head at that. "It was only sheer dumb luck that Green opened up her ball. Fate protects fools, and little children, and I'm not sure which you are right now. If you want to pretend like we're a team of heroes and not a bunch of well-minded criminals, don't you dare screw around and go solo again. Or you won't have to worry about those freaks - you'll have enough to worry about with me. Got it?"

"Okay, tough guy." Damien said, struggling to maintain the smirk "For the record, though, I do care. That said, I lost track of you during that fight and was too busy worrying about not leaving your sorry ass behind. Maybe you're the one who needs to learn to be more of a team player. Besides, I've fought that big blue SOB before and I won. That wasn't with training, that was with instinct, with luck, something maybe you should take onboard."

He turned and began to walk away before stopping, turning back.

"Oh, and one more thing." He said "You say I was, what was it, hot-dogging? It's called divide and conquer. We all clump together, we're sitting ducks. It's much easier to win a battle when it's going on from multiple angles. Not only that, but we're all in a big group, they're more likely to try some big super blast that levels entire blocks and kills countless civilians. You don't want to acknowledge that we're super heroes, fine by me. But we're GPF officers, and that means we don't put civilians at unnecessary risk. We are expendable, they are not. Well, let me rephrase. I'm the leader, I'm expendable. You've got my word of honour, I wouldn't let anything happen to anyone else if I can avoid it."

That smirk was utterly infuriating to Spencer, who was genuinely upset that a team member had been taken down. He expected better out of the nominal team leader - honestly, he expected better of a Power Ranger, just from all the stories he'd been told. "Squad-based tactics have been proven to work better than individual action many times; that's part of our training. That's something I did 'take on board'. And luck turns both ways - it's better to rely on hard skill, training and better tactics. 'Superheroes' or not."

He took a deep breath and shook his head. "You are not expendable. None of us are. We cannot afford having anyone break away to go off on some nonsense fight. If they try some 'big super blast', then we scatter. We'll figure it out from there."

"Figure it out from there?" Damien quipped "That sounds like something I'd say. Careful, blue boy. Some might say I'm rubbing off on you. Now, we going to throw down or are we going to stand here talking all melancholy?"

Spencer looked at Damien - both options were tempting; they'd come to some kind of a verbal understanding. Yet at the same time, he didn't feel his point would be driven home unless they actually fought it out - they were both men given to the simplicity of a fight. He removed the sword-belt and set it aside on a bench, gesturing to the boxing ring set up in the middle of the gym. "In there. I don't want you cracking your head on the floor when I drop you."

"I mean, that assumes you'll drop me." Damien replied as he began walking towards the boxing ring "What rules we going with here, first to take the other one to the floor three times, first to pin the other for ten seconds or just keep wailing on each other until one of us taps out?"

Spencer walked with Damien, trying not to smirk. "I was figuring tap out, or just a good old fashioned K.O.. You think you can go off on your own and take on alien freaks who want us all dead, you should at least be able to take a punch." Spencer tugged on his blue tank top slightly after he stepped up onto the blue corner of the ring apron, waiting for Damien to take the red before slipping through the ropes.

"Well, I am the one with the lion on the helmet." Damien smirked as he took his corner, shaping up into a boxing stance as he added "King of the jungle and all that... Think that line would work on girls?"

Spencer thought for a moment as he also squared up, and shrugged slightly. Damien would recognize that while the gesture was obvious, Spencer's hands didn't move out of his opening blocks. "Girls, probably. Keithron, never. Probably not the civvie either now that she's seen you off and hotdogging." He levelled his eyes at the other man, seriously. "That is, if they don't try to get you arrested for being an illegal vigilante, or think you're the other guy out there in red."

"Hey, who said I meant them? Shauna down in the garage is kinda cute." Damien smirked, choosing to ignore the final comments "Unless you'd rather take a shot at her? Hey, if you like, I'll put in a good word for you? I mean, I am a cadet captain, that's got to be impressive to some people, right?"

Spencer shrugged as he went in for a quick jab at Damien's chin - right at the ever-infuriating smirk. "She's all yours to woo. I'll think about romance when there isn't a war on. Right now, my focus is on two things - improving myself and eliminating the enemy. I suggest you would benefit by doing the same - especially if you expect to be any kind of leader."

"Lone wolf, huh?" Damien quipped, resisting the urge to check the side of his mouth for what he suspected was a trickle of blood "I can respect that. Even if it is damned boring."

He didn't wait for a response before feinting to his right then swinging in with a left cross.

Boring or not, Spencer was accustomed to the way his life had been up to now. Martial arts had given him a road to walk and the determination to keep taking those ever-important steps. Now that the fight was on in earnest, he wasn't making much noise, his eyes focused on Damien's sternum, watching the micromovements of his muscles to predict. The right-hand move was too weak to be the real strike, but Spencer leaned into it, throwing up a block against the shot from Damien's left with his own right - he had to admit, McGinnis had muscle; Gustaffson just wished that some of that went above the neck too. But now he was inside Damien's arms, and his least-pleasant habits came out. When he fought outward, it was big swings and targeted shots; but when infighting, his strikes came fast and savage, aimed at Damien's solar plexus and to the side under his ribcage. If he hit square-on, that kind of strike could be disabling.

Damien staggered back slightly, winded. He looked up, anger flashing across his face.

"That was a sucker punch!" He yelled "What? Worried you won't win without one of those?"

He charged in, going for a left hook and right hook, immediately followed up by a swift knee to the crotch. If Gustaffson wanted to try fighting dirty, he was more than happy to do the same.

Spencer saw where Damien's body was moving, and reacted accordingly, saying nothing at first. The two hooks were a little too angry to really do damage, but they'd definitely leave bruises on his arms where he'd been able to throw up blocks against them. But then they got into infighting again - and only one of them was in the process of getting angry now. When Damien's leg shifted to come up and hit him in the groin, Spencer had already turned his hips slightly, which allowed him to to strike out with his right leg, hitting the back of McGinnis' ankle, hard, and pulling through to go for a sweep. Anger was natural in a fight, especially if you took a shot you thought was cheap. The real skill of it was managing that anger and recognizing your own openings, as well as those of the person who'd ticked you off. As soon as Damien was down, Spencer was on him, the heel of the Blue Ranger's foot resting on the Red Ranger's chest in the same place Kilena had been stabbed by the alien woman's spear - and he was sure that Damien would recognize that fact immediately. Gustaffson didn't appear to have even broken his breathing pattern; infuriatingly, he'd made that takedown look easy. "If it was a sucker punch, then you must be a sucker for taking it and not giving anything back. Wouldn't it have been better if you'd had backup in a proper formation to do something about it?"

"Following set formations is what gets people killed. They're telegraphed, easy to predict, nearly always countered in a flash." Damien said, moving his hand onto the blue ranger's ankle and giving it a violent shove, pinning the other man as he hit the mat "Like so. Sometimes, you've got to be willing to break the rules or to take a hit in order to deliver a hit. For context, if I could go back and switch positions with Kilena, I would, but I can't. Now, are we going to keep this dick measuring contest going or are we going to agree to draw a line under it and try to get along for the sake of the team? I don't give a shit which one we do, but we need to decide now or we really are going to get someone killed, probably one of us."

Spence hadn't expected to get dropped so easily, but he knew he wasn't capable of stopping it by the time it was happening either. Instead, he went with it, going into a break-fall maneuver. That had obviously given Damien the opening he needed to get a pin. There were a few ways out of this situation. None of them were even remotely in the neighborhood of nice, decent, or fair. He'd made his point at least, which would have to be enough. Hopefully, McGinnis would at least understand - if he wanted to call himself a leader, he'd have to lead. And he would receive no slack whatsoever from the Blue Ranger; if Damien faltered, or the team faltered, Spencer would throw it back at him. So Gustaffson did the only thing he could, grabbing Damien's arm, hard. "Yeah, we're good. Unless you screw up again, that is. Let's get to that thing in Australia - then we have to start planning a guerilla war."

"In the morning." Damien said, standing up and pulling the man to his feet, dusting him off surreptitiously "First, everyone needs to take an evening off. That's an order. There's plenty of time for war tomorrow."

 

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