A different tour (2)

— WHAT DO YOU MEAN "KILL ME"?! 

Z stared at me with those glowing holographic eyes, reflecting her usual mischievous expression. 

— It had to be "realistic," right? — she said, shrugging. — But relax, if things got really dangerous, I would've shut it down... maybe. 

She smiled, completely unconcerned, like she'd just told me she forgot to turn off the oven — not that she threw me into a deadly fight without warning. 

I let out a long sigh, covering my face with one hand. I was way too tired to react the way I should've. 

— Hey, idiot, don't worry. You did well. 

I felt her metallic hand ruffle my curly hair, messing it up even more. I should've been annoyed, but instead, I just laughed. Exhaustion had made my patience skyrocket. 

With Z's help, I stood up, and we headed into the next room. This time, there wasn't much to analyze. It was a garage — but not just any garage. 

Gigantic metallic machines filled the space, relics of countless battles. They were massive, weathered, marked with scars that told silent stories of past conflicts. 

Zords. 

I stood in awe of the colossal structures, admiring the details of their imposing armor. But my moment of wonder was quickly cut short. 

The alarm blared through the main hall — a shrill sound that echoed all the way to the garage. 

— Z, the Zords! We need them! 

She looked at me, assessed the situation quickly, then grabbed my wrist before I could react. 

— Come on, I'll show you how to deploy the Rangers' Zords. 

She dragged me back to the main room while I tried to process everything. 

— Okay, but... shouldn't there be a central computer or something? 

Z gave me a cryptic smile. 

— Maybe yes, maybe no... Come on, idiot. 

She led me to the wall across from the staircase and pointed to two specific stones. Her metallic arm extended, showing me exactly where to press. 

— Push this one... then this one. 

I did as she said. As soon as I pressed the stones, a mechanical sound echoed and the wall slowly opened, revealing a hidden panel. 

At the center, a large screen lit up, full of alien symbols that, at first glance, seemed impossible to decipher. But as I stared at the words, something strange happened. The letters began to shift, transforming into something I could read — as if drawn to me. 

— Now you nee— 

— I know what to do. 

I cut Z off without thinking, my body moving on instinct. I stepped up to the console and, somehow, the characters on the screen continued to adjust as I touched the controls. 

The systems synced. 

The Zords roared in the distance, their engines awakening with a thunderous growl. 

I typed in the exact location, but the "GPS" was acting up — it wasn't the most user-friendly interface in the world. Still, I managed to complete the deployment. 

The comm system activated. 

— Whoa, thanks, Z. You were quick this time. We won't be long… hope you didn't kill Xavier. 

The Red Ranger's voice came through, tense but relieved. 

— Over and out. 

The transmission cut, and I stood there for a moment, taking a deep breath.

Even though it was a simple task, the rush of success ran through my body like a jolt of adrenaline. 

It felt good. 

Really good. 

The panel slid back into the wall, hiding the circuits and the big screen again. I looked at Z, and her holographic expression was priceless — a mix of surprise and amusement. 

She responded with a simple thumbs-up.

I returned the gesture.

We laughed.

Despite being playful and slightly annoying, I was starting to enjoy her company.

We moved on to the next room, which was, by far, the dullest so far: a storage room crammed with leftovers from previous battles.

Piles of metal scrap, broken weapons, useless gadgets... everything dumped with little care. There was a sort of organized chaos to it, a graveyard of forgotten tech.

I was already turning to leave when something caught my eye in the middle of the mess.

A sword.

It was nearly flawless. The blade still gleamed, practically untouched, but the hilt was destroyed, worn down by time or a brutal blow.

I picked it up, ran my fingers along the cold, sharp metal.

An interesting find.

But for now, I placed it back among the junk.

— Like it? — Z's voice came dangerously close to my ear.

I jumped.

— Want it for yourself?

I looked at the sword.

— I do... but it'd be just for decoration.

Z scoffed, rolling her holographic eyes.

— Why? You fight well. And you never know when you'll need it.

I sighed.

— I can't just walk around carrying an alien sword.

— Of course you can. — She gave a mischievous grin. — Just build a materialization system and turn the sword into a bracelet. Same setup as the morphers, only simpler.

I blinked, trying to process the idea.

Was she serious?

Or just messing with me?

Z definitely seemed like the type of person—or rather, alien—to say something like that just to mess with me.

Before I could ask, she dove deeper into the storage, grabbing all sorts of parts and components while her mechanical arms stretched and retracted like robotic claws. She picked up the blade along with a bunch of other tech, stacking everything in her arms.

— Go check out the next room — she said, still busy. — It's the dorm. I'm gonna make you a "welcome gift."

I was speechless for a moment.

— I… think a simple "thank you" would be enough?

— Wrong. — She smiled, winking one of her glowing eyes. — You're working in my place for two weeks.

What a miserable alien.

She was already focused on her "project," so I did as she said and went to the next room.

The dorm was simple. Designed for six people, but it was empty. No signs of personal items or customization, just neatly made beds like no one had moved in yet.

I picked a bed in the corner and started settling my stuff.

Pulled out my phone and dialed a familiar number.

After a few rings, my mom picked up.

— I know it's early, but… good morning, Mom! I'm gonna stop by later to grab some things. I'm moving in with some friends.

On the other end, the silence lasted longer than I expected.

— Why, honey? — Her voice came out worried.

I already had an answer ready.

— It's a good place for my studies with the S.P.D. Since the Rangers are here, any info helps, right?

She sighed on the other end.

— You're right, sweetie. Just... be careful, okay? And don't go fighting any aliens! — She laughed. — I know you'd never do something like that.

My chest tightened.

Too late, Mom.

— Of course, Mom — I replied, trying to sound calm. — You know me. Always safe!

The lie scratched my throat as it left, like swallowing a handful of blades, but it was necessary.

— I have to go, honey. Let me know when you're coming by.

— Sure, Mom. I'll bring you a fish!

She let out a quiet laugh.

— Bye, sweetie. Love you.

I hesitated for a moment before answering.

— …Love you too, Mom.

I heard the call end, but kept the phone pressed to my ear for a few more seconds, as if the silence would give me an answer I knew wouldn't come.

Did I do the right thing?

It was impulsive, but… is this really going to work?

Before I could get lost in my thoughts, a sound from outside the dorm snapped me back to reality.

I rushed to see what it was.

My friends—the "Rangers"—were returning from another battle. They were dirty and banged up, but nothing looked too serious.

— How'd it go? — I asked, walking over to them.

Neto stretched before replying.

— Nothing major. Villain shows up, we fight, he grows giant, we call the Zords… same old. But less destruction today, thanks to how efficient the Zords were.

I smirked.

— Yeah, Z was great today.

— We brought snacks! — Victor appeared with his arms full of food. There were so many bags you could barely see his face.

— I'll pass. Heading to the med bay. Took a nasty fall. — PH was rubbing his arm with a grimace.

— I'm going with him. Fell off a cliff. — Karol said it like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I blinked, surprised, but she seemed way too calm for me to worry.

While Neto and Victor sorted the food, Aila approached me.

— Where's Z? She didn't come out to congratulate us.

I crossed my arms.

— She's off making a "gift" for me.

Aila raised an eyebrow.

— A gift?

— Honestly? I'm a little scared.

She laughed.

— Why? She likes you.

— Imagine if she didn't…

— I can hear you, idiot.

Z's voice echoed through the cave.

I looked around and finally noticed: there were speakers… and cameras.

Aila followed my gaze, eyeing the ceiling and then the open dorm door. First, she smiled. Then laughed. Finally, she looked at me with an amused expression.

— Why do you think no one lives here?

Damn. That made sense.

— So where do you guys live, then?

— Victor's with a friend. PH's sharing a place with Neto. And Karol and I are staying at my aunt's house. — She shrugged. — We're spread across the city to patrol more efficiently.

I nodded, thoughtful.

— Makes sense.

— And you? — Aila asked, already knowing the answer.

— I'm staying here. All of you are connected like a web… and this place is the center of it.

Aila raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

— That was dark, Xave. But you're not wrong.

She gave me a light punch on the shoulder.

— Be our eyes, nerd.

We joined the others at the table and sat down to eat. A little while later, PH and Karol returned from the med bay, patched up and starving. The mood lightened as we ate and talked.

Mid-conversation, I grabbed a burger and quietly slipped away, heading toward the last room.

It was a large and messy space, seemingly divided into three areas. The first looked like a planning room, with chairs and a blackboard—or something similar. The second was a makeshift lab, full of strange equipment and scattered notes. And the third…

The third looked like a workshop.

A real creative space.

And right there, in the middle of the chaos of tools, metal parts, and gears, was Z.

Her fabric clothing, once clean, was now covered in soot, rust, and grease. Her eyes gleamed with focus as she worked on something I couldn't identify.

— Hey, Z. You were taking a while, so I came to see what you were up to.

Without looking up, she answered impatiently:

— You've seen it. Now don't interrupt.

I pulled a chair from the planning area and sat directly in front of her.

Z gave me a long, assessing glance, then went right back to work.

I sat there, watching, occasionally nibbling on my burger.

Not that I understood anything she was doing...

But watching someone so focused, building something literally out of this world—it was mesmerizing.

And I knew, whatever it was, it had everything to do with me.

Z pulled out a small vial containing a thick red liquid.

Was that… blood?

Yes.

And specifically, mine.

How and when she got it, I had no idea. Better to just ignore that detail.

She opened the vial and, with almost ceremonial precision, slowly poured the liquid over the blade. The moment the drops touched the metal, something happened.

The blade absorbed the blood like it was alive.

Reddish cracks began to spread across its surface, forming intricate patterns that pulsed, creating a hypnotic contrast with the metallic blue of the hilt.

It was… fascinating.

Before I could get a better look at what was happening, I heard someone calling me from outside.

— Be right back, Z. I think PH's calling me.

She didn't reply—just stayed laser-focused on her task.

I walked toward the door, but just before crossing the threshold, I heard a yell from behind:

— THINK FAST, IDIOT!

I turned just in time to see my "gift" flying toward me.

Way too fast.

Too fast to dodge.

My brain went into survival mode. I threw my arms up in reflex.

The blade was milliseconds from stabbing into me when, suddenly, something unexpected happened.

The metal dissolved.

Glowing fragments broke off midair, moving as if they had a mind of their own, wrapping around my wrist in seconds.

When the light faded, the sword was gone.

In its place, a thick silver bracelet remained, with an "X" engraved in the center.

I stared at the newly-formed accessory, feeling the subtle weight of metal against my skin.

Z crossed her arms, watching my expression with a smug grin.

— You should've seen your face.

I needed a moment to process all of that.

But one thing was certain:

This gift… was definitely more than just decoration.