I’ll be the Red Ranger
Chapter 130 – Escape Plan

- Oliver -

Before anyone could cut him off or demand identification, Oliver pressed on with urgency, his voice steady but edged with desperation. "This is Oliver, Blue Ranger Identification ZX7429," he declared firmly into the communicator. "We have discovered a Titan production facility. Repeat: We've found a factory where the Orks are manufacturing Titans."

There was a brief pause filled with static before a voice responded, clipped and authoritative. "Central Command, identification confirmed. Proceed with your report."

Taking a quick breath, Oliver began, "At 0400 hours, we departed from South Base at the Half Wall on a mission to investigate an Ork base that was reported to be abandoned."

"Copy that. We've located the operation details," the communications officer at Central Command replied. Even through the transmission, Oliver could detect faint murmurs and the crackling interference of multiple bases tuning into the emergency channel.

Oliver continued swiftly, uncertain of how much time he had before the enemy could intercept his signal. "As we approached the target, three Rangers from our group turned on us. They attacked without warning, resulting in the deaths of three Rangers. Two of the traitors were neutralized, but one managed to escape. We have two wounded Rangers in the jungle; their exact coordinates can be relayed upon request. However, we believe additional traitors are listening in on this transmission."

There was a second of silence on the line, punctuated only by the distant hum of equipment and whispered voices. "Understood," the officer acknowledged gravely. "But you mentioned a Titan production facility?"

"Correct," Oliver affirmed. "There's a significant discrepancy between our intel and the actual situation on the ground. The base is fully operational. Thousands upon thousands of Orks are working on the production of Titans."

"Are you certain about this?" the officer pressed, skepticism mixed with concern. "Could they be manufacturing other types of war machines?"

"I'm positive," Oliver insisted. "I witnessed the process myself—a ritual or some form of arcane technology they're using to create them. They've already completed one Titan and are in the process of preparing the next."

"The next one?!" The officer's surprise was palpable even over the comm link. "They can produce multiple Titans?"

"At the rate they're operating," Oliver explained, "they could have dozens, possibly even hundreds, of Titans already prepared."

A heavy silence settled over the line. Then, in the background, Oliver heard the distant wail of sirens blaring to life—a chilling confirmation of the gravity of the situation.

"My God," the officer muttered, his composure slipping momentarily. Regaining control, he spoke with renewed urgency. "Ranger, hold your position. Maximum alert status is now in effect. We are deploying reconnaissance flights to your location immediately to verify and assess the threat."

"Wait, something's wrong!" Oliver whispered urgently, his heart racing as he observed unexpected activity within the base.

Through the lens of his scope, he surveyed the excavation site again. Earlier, the Ork commander had been orchestrating the grim procession of prisoners, continuing their rituals. But now, the commander stood differently—alert and watchful—scanning the perimeters of the base as if searching for something.

A knot tightened in Oliver's stomach. He swiftly lowered himself, pressing into the underbrush, hoping the meager vegetation would conceal him. Every muscle tensed as he willed himself to become part of the landscape.

An alarm blared—a harsh, guttural sound that echoed throughout the cavernous excavation.

"Something's off," Oliver murmured into his communicator. "Their base just went on high alert, but I don't think they've spotted me."

Suddenly, a thunderous, rhythmic pounding filled the air. Massive gates he hadn't noticed before were being demolished one after another, each crash sending vibrations through the ground beneath him. From the gaping openings emerged creatures torn from the darkest nightmares—Titans. Each one was more grotesque and formidable than the last, towering behemoths of twisted metal and corrupted flesh, their forms barely adhering to any natural law.

"Dozens of Titans are pouring out of the base," Oliver reported, struggling to keep his voice steady. "There must be forty or fifty of them. They're scaling the walls and heading into the forest."

But the onslaught didn't end there. Thousands of Orks were mobilizing en masse. Many got into war machines resembling gigantic centipedes, segmented bodies bristling with armaments. Others boarded swift attack ships, engines emitting a sinister hum as they powered up.

"The entire base is initiating an attack," Oliver continued urgently. "Somehow, they've been alerted. They're moving northwest—heading straight for the southern base of the Half Wall."

As he finished speaking, the ground beneath him shook violently. Oliver pressed himself flatter against the earth as one of the Titans walked above him, its colossal form casting a suffocating shadow. The stench of decay and raw energy washed over him, nearly overwhelming his senses. He concentrated on suppressing his Energy, pushing his abilities to the limit to avoid detection.

Then, to his horror, the soil beneath him began to crumble. The relentless march of the Titans was destabilizing the terrain. He glanced around frantically for an escape route, but enemies swarmed in every direction. Any movement risked drawing their attention.

‘How the hell did I end up here?!’ he thought, a surge of panic threatening to overtake him.

With no time to consider alternatives, Oliver grasped at a chunk of earth as the ground gave way. Relying on his armor to absorb the impact, he braced himself for the fall. The world tilted, and he was sliding down a steep embankment toward the uppermost level of the excavation.

‘I just can't be seen,’ he repeated in his mind, clutching the mantra like a lifeline.

He tumbled downward, debris and dust engulfing him. His armor absorbed the worst of the impact, but the jarring descent left him disoriented. When he finally came to a halt, he pressed himself against a rocky outcrop, taking shallow breaths.

"Chloe, can you hear me?" Oliver whispered urgently into his communicator, but all he received in return was static. "Chloe?" he tried again, only to be met with the same crackling silence.

Something during his fall, or perhaps the dense structure of the enemy base, was interfering with the signal. Frustration and worry gnawed at him.

‘Damn it, they're heading toward the forest. That's exactly where she is,’ he thought anxiously. ‘If she heard the broadcast, she'll know about the Ork army's movement.’ He could only hope that Chloe would take the initiative to relocate, especially since he had his predicament to manage.

‘How am I going to get out of here?’ Oliver pondered, glancing around the alien architecture of the Ork base. ‘It's no use just hiding. And I can't simply run back to the base—not only would I draw attention, but I'd also arrive too late.’ He needed a solution, something within the enemy stronghold that could aid his escape.

While searching, Oliver saw it: a hangar tucked away near the central level of the excavation. It seemed less risky now, with most of the Orks having departed to engage in the massive offensive.

‘Maybe I can find something useful in there,’ he mused. ‘I wonder if [Insight] works on Ork technology.’

Staying low, Oliver began to move cautiously toward the hangar. He prayed he wouldn't encounter any Orks; fortunately, the few he did see were sprinting toward their war machines, too preoccupied to notice someone hiding in the shadows against a wall or within a recess.

As he edged closer to the hangar, the scale of the Ork war effort became even more apparent. The massive battle cruisers were all lifting off, thrusters blazing, joining the armada heading toward the Half Wall. But one ship stood out from the rest.

Facing away from the Half Wall was a long vessel, lacking the heavy armaments that bristled from the other warships. Its rear cargo bay was open as if awaiting a final load. The ship seemed almost abandoned in the commotion.

‘Luck!’ Oliver thought, a surge of hope igniting within him. Without wasting another second, he sprinted toward the ship, not daring to look back. His boots pounded silently against the stone floor as he closed the distance. Reaching the ramp, he slipped inside.

Despite it being a cargo hold, the compartment was completely empty.

‘Maybe they haven’t loaded anything yet… Better get out before they do,’ Oliver thought, slipping quickly through the open doors toward the front of the ship.

Like most human vessels, the craft had a main cockpit—but every console, screen, and instrument looked utterly alien.

‘Please, work your magic,’ Oliver silently begged.

[Insight]

A torrent of information exploded in his mind, revealing countless details about the ship’s inner workings. Yet the data still felt fragmentary; pieces of the puzzle remained missing. No new abilities were unlocked.

| You don’t have access to [Arcane]

[Insight] Oliver tried once more, focusing more Energy on the Boon.

| You don’t have access to [Arcane]

[Insight]

| You don’t have access to [Arcane]

With his brow furrowed, he made another attempt, trying to concentrate on the images and information that were appearing. However, this time, a different notification was displayed.

| Excessive use of [Insight] might cause permanent brain damage.

| Energy [Bishop] combined with [Insight]

| Failure Odds Unlocked

| Failure Odds

| Traumatic Brain Injury [50%]

| 7 Days Coma [20%]

| 30 Days Coma [20%]

| Partial Memory Loss [9%]

| Complete Memory Loss [1%]

“Dammit!” Oliver cursed, raising his fist to punch the control panel. But just before he made contact, a gravelly voice echoed behind him.

“What’s a globûrz human doing on this ship?”