I’ll be the Red Ranger
Chapter 186 – The Card

- Oliver -

‘I need to warn him,’ Oliver thought, the realization jolting him into action. He rose swiftly from the hotel bed.

But as he prepared to move, his gaze fell upon the sleek gauntlet encasing his forearm. The device that connected him to the NET. He hesitated, a knot of apprehension tightening in his stomach. Pacing the length of the room, he mulled over the possibilities.

‘If I send him an obvious message, they'll have access,’ he mused silently, thinking about the implications. The NEA's surveillance algorithms incessantly monitored the NET; any weird communication would raise immediate red flags. ‘Even if the message is cryptic or coded, it would draw unnecessary attention.’

He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Could I leave a clue with someone else?’ he pondered, his footsteps tracing restless patterns on the floor. Names flickered through his mind: Katherine, Alan, or Isabela. But the idea was fraught with risk.

‘I'd only be putting them in danger,’ he conceded grimly. ‘And who knows how much the Great Houses know about what’s happening?’

Shaking his head, Oliver dismissed the notion. ‘No, I can't imagine John or Katherine being aware of this and supporting it,’ he reasoned.

‘Nothing via the NET,’ he decided firmly. ‘I need an offline solution.’ His gaze drifted to the sprawling cityscape beyond the window.

‘Maybe I could go to him directly,’ Oliver contemplated. ‘All I'd need is to travel to Ganymede.’ The thought was tempting. But almost immediately, the pitfalls became apparent.

‘My GPS logs would show I visited him just before the mission and after figuring out about our fate,’ he reminded himself. Also purchasing a teleportation ticket would be recorded in the databases. Too many breadcrumbs leading back to me.’

He halted by the desk, eyes settling once more on the gauntlet. ‘Perhaps if I could alter the gauntlet to use a false profile,’ he considered.

But he wasn’t that confident. His hacking skills were still at the [Pawn] level. He'd only scratched the surface during his training with the Sixth Division, whose teachings were cautious and deliberately incomplete to prevent any one operative from becoming uncontrollable.

"I could try to learn more, but in 48 hours, even with the [Left Eye of Learning], it's not enough time to acquire the expertise I need." Oliver thought.

Exhaling deeply, he detached the gauntlet from his arm. The device disengaged with a soft click, its interface dimming as it powered down. He placed it on the desk.

‘I do have a last option.’ Oliver crossed his fingers, silently pleading for a favorable outcome before activating his Boon.

[Insight]

For a brief, intense moment, a cascade of schematics and blueprints flooded his mind. The intricate designs of the gauntlet unraveled before him, each component and circuit laid bare. He saw the microprocessors, the encrypted chips, and the operational system. But as the vivid images flashed, he realized it wasn't enough. The designs were comprehensive, but they didn't provide the solution he sought. He needed a way to falsify the gauntlet's identity verification protocols to mask his actions.

A notification blinked in his peripheral vision.

| Hacking skill evolved to [Knight]

Suddenly, a torrent of information surged into his mind. It was as if a dam had burst, releasing a flood of knowledge that threatened to overwhelm him. Oliver pressed both hands to his temples as a sharp pain throbbed within his skull. His vision blurred, and a warm liquid trickled from his nose. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, smearing a few drops of blood across his skin.

Oliver understood enough about the gauntlet's architecture and its connection to the Net. He could see the layers of security. Firewalls nested within firewalls, algorithms that monitored for any sign of tampering.

But this newfound understanding only showed how much he would still need to learn to achieve something like this.

"Damn it," he muttered, frustration lacing his voice. ‘So I can't reach him, not without leaving an obvious trail.’ He collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as questions swirled relentlessly in his mind. ‘How am I supposed to do this?’

He grappled with the dilemma, his thoughts a chaotic mix of possibilities and dead ends. ‘I need to store the information somewhere he can access it,’ he mused. ‘A place I don't visit often, but where I've been before. Somewhere that wouldn't draw the NEA's attention.’

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Oliver sat up, racking his brain for such a location. Each idea seemed riskier than the last. Time was slipping away, the countdown looming over him like a dark cloud.

He glanced at his gauntlet, the display illuminating as the timer ticked down.

[Last Mission: Bye Bye Children – 41:53]

"Less than two days," he whispered. ‘I need to send a message that appears normal, but hints that he needs to retrieve something.’

An idea sparked, a dumb, but good enough idea. "Is there still time?" he wondered aloud, turning back to the room.

"Damn it, I just wasted money on this hotel," Oliver grumbled.

He had little time; he still needed to stop somewhere before catching his next flight. He needed to get to Selene as quickly as possible.

--

When the shuttle finally touched down on Selene, the timer on his gauntlet reminded him just how little time remained.

[Last Mission: Bye Bye Children – 06:13]

A day and a half had slipped away during transit. Exiting the spacecraft, Oliver was struck by how different Selene felt compared to his previous visits. The once-vibrant metropolis, known for its almost perpetual parties and dazzling displays, now seemed subdued.

Gone were the drones that used to weave through the air, projecting holographic fireworks that burst into showers of color across the domed sky. The streets and cassinos felt empty.

"Even Selene isn't untouched by the war," Oliver mused, a hint of sadness threading through his thoughts.

He weaved through the central district, the towering spires of the casinos casting long shadows over the streets below. Their grand entrances less crowded than he remembered. But Oliver wasn't there for the glittering attractions.

His destination lay beneath the city, in the labyrinthine underground, where light barely penetrated, and shadows cloaked the forgotten corners. Descending via one of the massive freight elevators, he entered the Lower Levels.

The entrance to the Trial Tower was amidst the underground alleys. But Oliver wasn't heading there today. He was searching for a more obscure establishment, a hidden haven he'd visited once before. He remembered the place; however, the last time he was there, he was so tired that his memories were almost nonexistent.

"Think, Oliver," he whispered to himself, scanning the dimly lit alleyways. The walls were a patchwork of metal and stone, etched with graffiti and plastered with flickering holo-posters advertising everything from mech fights to illicit substances.

He paused before an unassuming brick wall nestled between two rusted ventilation shafts. "He did something with this wall," Oliver recalled. "Was it… pressing the bricks?"

Approaching cautiously, he touched one of the bricks at eye level. Solid. He pressed another, then another. Finally, after several tries, one of the bricks yielded under his fingers, depressing slightly with a soft click.

Mechanisms whirred to life. To his left, a section of the metal wall slid downward with a muted groan, revealing a narrow passageway leading to a descending staircase. Dim lights activated along the steps. At the bottom stood a set of heavy wooden double doors, their surfaces scarred and weathered.

Pushing them open, Oliver was greeted by the familiar atmosphere of the hidden bar. It was a place untouched by the passage of time. Scattered wooden tables filled the space, some occupied by patrons huddled over drinks and murmuring in low tones.

In one corner, a group of older men sat engrossed in animated discussion, a collection of rare, physical playing cards spread out before them. Their laughter and hushed exclamations added a layer of life to the otherwise somber environment.

Oliver made his way to the bar, where the bartender was meticulously arranging bottles behind the counter, his back turned.

Without looking up, the bartender spoke in a gravelly voice. "You're too young to be drinking here."

A hint of a smile touched Oliver's lips. "No worries. Just a glass of water will do."

The bartender turned, his gaze sharp and assessing. Deep-set eyes studied Oliver's face, noting the fatigue etched in his features. "Water's free," he remarked.

"Appreciated." Oliver nodded, then leaned in slightly. "Does Nico still come around here?"

The bartender's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of interest in his eyes. "Who's asking?"

"A friend," Oliver replied earnestly. "I'm concerned about him."

The bartender considered this for a moment, then shrugged. "He stops by now and then. Not as often as he used to."

Reaching into his jacket, Oliver produced a small, sealed envelope. The material was simple; unassuming brown paper. He placed it on the counter between them.

"Could you give this to him next time he comes in? It's important." Oliver asked.

The bartender glanced at the envelope, then back at Oliver. Physical messages were an anomaly in this age; everything was transmitted via the NET or encrypted channels. A tangible letter implied secrecy, a need to avoid digital traces. It could mean trouble.

"It'll cost you," the bartender said flatly.

Oliver expected as much. He extended his arm, the gauntlet on his wrist activating.

"How much?" Oliver asked

"One thousand credits," the bartender stated, the amount non-negotiable.

Suppressing a wince, Oliver authorized the transfer. A soft chime signaled the successful transaction as the credits drained from his account. "Done."

The bartender took the envelope and slipped it into a concealed pocket within his apron. "Consider it delivered."

"Thank you," Oliver said sincerely.

Direct Message

- NicoIcon

NicoIcon

[OliverKR]: You won't believe it. I got a Blastoise.

[OliverKR]: You should see it.

With the message sent, Oliver left the bar.

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