Turborangers - Fetch the Broken!

The nightmare begins when the Turborangers face a grotesque new villain whose methods break not bodies, but minds. During the first confrontation, Black, Blue, and Pink are separated and subjected to escalating horrors that shred their humanity, warping them into something far beneath their once-proud warrior selves. As their senses betray them and their identities fracture, the villain watches with sick glee, laying the foundation for total collapse.

Bark once, and you'll never stand again!

Special thanks to my loyal and royal patron friends:

Suko

Mindwave

Yuyu lu

A

Aimi

Nikos

Oddone

Nate Piburn

Nicholas Athallah

Jakob Feurhuber

泽凯 张

vladimirpootis

Tribe

Bethany

kasa41

Violet Fentenstine

Tuck Lee

Matthew Thom

BlueEyesWhiteDragon

fumitsu

kasa41

俊介 星野

にとり 河城

Russell shuey

Bayu Pramana

clanna

park jong

Dominic Kohtz

George Hellerman

Flutterheart10480

brkfstinamerica

darkrai1986

시우 성

Nathaniel Grayson

's 쭌

John Barten

Eddie Hauck

Ken K

Ty smith

Robert Terwillger

snb

Daniel K

Mike020578

Sit, Rangers!

The descent into the abandoned subway was silent at first, but it wasn’t peace—it was tension—like the walls were waiting to exhale. The air was thick, clinging to the inside of their helmets despite filtration. The floors beneath their boots squelched with slime, and every step sounded wrong—wet wrong.

Youhei was the first to break the silence, though his tone came in clipped frustration. “This isn’t just sewage. There’s something chemical in this. Synthetic. Like melted dog toys.”

Haruna grimaced as her boots left faint streaks on the tile. “You think that’s the worst part? Check your scanner. This place is breathing. Pressure’s rising even though there’s no airflow.”

“It smells like wet fur and rotted gym mats,” TurboBlue added with a gag. “What kind of freak lures people into this?”

“Keep formation,” Shunsuke ordered, low and sharp, walking behind them like a quiet blade. “Our target’s close. Whatever’s down here isn’t just a scent trail. It’s—territory.”

Riki said nothing at first, eyes darting across the terminal’s ruined bones—bent benches, torn ads, claw-scarred tile. But then he spoke, his voice oddly calm. “Look at the ground. Those aren’t random gouges. They’re… patterns. Tight arcs. Same direction.”

“Like pacing,” Haruna muttered, frowning as she knelt beside a groove that ran in perfect repetition along the cement. “Something was walked like a dog. Over and over. Right here.”

“Paced or trained,” TurboYellow corrected, his hand already hovering near his weapon.

Then they saw it.

At the far end of the cracked platform, beneath the ruin of a flickering fluorescent light, something knelt. The glint of black armor caught their eyes first—a shine dulled by grime, smeared with disgusting grease and patches of muck. The figure’s back was arched unnaturally. Knees wide apart. Arms limp on the floor. Head down. A single droplet of saliva—or was it oil?—dripped from the helmet’s mouthguard and splattered on the tile.

It was TurboBlack.

“Daichi?” Riki’s voice cracked as he advanced, his disbelief curdling into dread. “What the hell are you doing?”

There was no reply. No movement. Just the slow rise and fall of a chest breathing far too calmly.

“He’s kneeling,” Haruna said, tone brittle with disbelief. “He’s on all fours. That’s… that’s not a fighting stance.”

Youhei’s tone turned bitter. “That asshole doesn’t kneel. He doesn’t rest. He doesn’t submit.”

But Shunsuke’s eyes had narrowed to slits, his jaw tight. “He’s not unconscious. That position—it’s too deliberate. It’s like he’s waiting. Subordinate.”

The realization sank in slowly, like rot in clean water. Riki’s mouth parted, confusion chasing denial. “That’s not him. That can’t be him. Daichi wouldn’t let himself be reduced to—”

A low, gurgling snort echoed from the tunnel behind the Sentai figure, deep and wet. The kind of sound you didn’t just hear, but felt in the floor and in your spine.

And then something dragged itself into view behind TurboBlack.

It emerged with a slap, like raw meat flopping across tile. A towering creature waddled into the low flickering light—dog-headed, bloated, grotesque. Its body was a patchwork of stretch marks and spiral tattoos, its face a twisted, mocking skull-fur hybrid. A tongue lolled from its muzzle, long and wet, curling in spirals as it drooled across its own heaving belly. 

“ZUKABARKA, MOTHERLICKERS!” the thing howled, arms flung wide as its distended gut slapped against the tile. Its voice was a wrecking ball of volume, guttural and giddy. “ALPHA OF ASS-WAGGERS, GRANDMASTER OF GOOD BOYS! CALL ME DADDY BARK IF YOU WANNA LIVE!”

Youhei flinched. “What the fuck is that?!”

Zukabarka laughed—no, he barked, his body convulsing with joy. “You smell that, huh?! That warm, ripe scent of OBEDIENCE?! That’s your boy right there—sitting SO nicely! Didn’t even need a leash!”

Daichi didn’t move. But the floor beneath him had become slick with drool. His fingers were twitching now. Not clenched. Splayed. Tense. Ready.

TurboRed stepped forward, heart pounding against his suit’s inner seal. “Daichi. I don’t know what this is, or what it’s done to you, but fight it. You’re not this. You don’t belong to anyone!”

“Speak, mutt,” Zukabarka crooned. “C’mon, show them those pretty words I taught ya.”

Daichi’s body convulsed once. Then again. His head jerked sharply sideways, and from beneath the helmet came a bark—dry, savage, gleeful. “GRAAHH—HAHA—SUCK MY SPIRAL, YOU RED-CODPIECE BASTARD!” he howled, the words slurring into a mad blend of laughter and choking drool. “FUCKIN’ FETCHED ME—FETCHED ME GOOD—AND IT FEELS DELICIOUS!!”

TurboPink took a stumbling step back. “He’s wagging,” she whispered. “His spine is wagging.”

Shunsuke was already raising his blade. “He’s gone.”

Daichi slammed his helmet into the tile with a crack, then cackled from deep within the suit. “I’M A MUTT, BABY! AIN’T GOT NO PRIDE LEFT TO SHIT OUT! WOOF FUCKIN’ WOOF!!”

Zukabarka’s belly jiggled with delight. “NOW THAT’S A LOYAL BITCH! TOOK A WHILE TO BREAK HIM IN, BUT HE’S HOUSEBROKEN NOW!”

He reached into a fold of his stomach fat, deeper than any normal body should allow, and pulled out a glistening rubber ball, streaked with drool, glowing with a faint spiral at its core.

“WHO WANTS TO FUCKIN’ FETCH?!”

He hurled it.

The ball slammed into the ground with a thunderous splat-squeak and ricocheted off the wall. Then again. And again.

Riki barely had time to shout a command before the blur of onyx armor was already in motion. TurboBlack shot off the ground like a coiled spring, kicking up filth with a feral howl as he launched himself toward the team.

“Shit—he’s coming in hot!” TurboBlue shouted, sidestepping just as TurboBlack’s weapon carved through the air where his neck had been half a second earlier. “He’s not just broken—he’s frothing!”

Daichi laughed—deep, loud, shaking his own chest with each wild exhale.

“OH, I’M FROTHING, FOUR-EYES—I’M FOAMIN’ FUCKIN’ LOVE RIGHT OUT MY ASS!” he screamed, dragging his Wing Pentact blade along the floor in a wild arc, sparks flying as it carved through grime and concrete. “AND GUESS WHAT, I’M NOT EVEN MAD—I’M CELEBRATING!!”

Riki lunged forward, meeting the blade with his own, their weapons screeching as they locked in mid-swing.

“Pull yourself together!” TurboRed barked, pushing forward with his full weight. “You’re fighting us, you goddamn idiot!”

“Ohhh, don’t be jealous, Red!” Daichi cackled, twisting away and backflipping off the wall like he was showing off for a stadium. “I just learned new tricks! Wanna see me roll over? Wanna see me bark while I gut your GUTS?!”

A wet squeak cut through the madness—the fetch ball was still bouncing.

It rebounded off a beam, zipped between Youhei’s legs, and then pinged off the ceiling directly above Haruna. Every bounce left a burning spiral glyph in its wake, like sick graffiti smeared across the station’s bones.

“What the hell—!” Haruna ducked, watching the orb dart off again like it had a mind of its own.

“Focus!” TurboYellow shouted, intercepting Daichi’s next strike with his Brachio Staff, metal clashing hard enough to shake dust from the rafters. “He’s fast—but not invincible!”

“I’M ADORABLE!” TurboBlack screamed back, kicking TurboYellow in the stomach and sending him sliding backward in a spray of slime. “AND INVINCIBLE’S JUST A STICKY MOOD!”

Zukabarka howled in joy from the sidelines, his belly bouncing with every breath. “LOOK AT MY LITTLE MUTT GO! ISN’T HE A DARLING FUCKIN’ NIGHTMARE?! WOO! GET THOSE SIBLING RIVALRIES OUT, BOY—KILL ‘EM LIKE A REAL PET!”

“SHUT YOUR SHIT-HOLE, YOU TIRE-FUCKING CLOWN-BEAST!” Daichi bellowed at his master, even as he slashed toward Youhei again with wild delight. “I’LL MURDER THESE TURDS FOR ME! THEN YOU CAN RUB MY BELLY IF YOU EARN IT!”

“You’re not even possessed, are you?!” TurboBlue yelled as he dodged low. “You’re just enjoying this!”

Daichi’s laughter crackled through his comms like a demon chewing glass. “DING-FUCKIN-DING, BLUE BOY! I’M UNLEASHED, UNFILTERED, UNWIPED—AND THIS SUIT’S NEVER FELT MORE ME!!”

The bouncing ball shrieked past again, squeaking as it collided with a column, and this time TurboBlue flinched—his visor flickered, locking slightly toward it.

“Something’s wrong with the suit HUDs!” TurboPink shouted from across the terminal. “Every time that thing bounces, it leaves a trail and our visors try to track it—!”

“KEEP LOOKING AT ME!” Riki shouted, cutting between her and the spinning ball. “DON’T LOOK AT THE SPIRALS! STAY ON ME!”

The ball zipped again, faster, cutting between them like a laser-guided curse.

“YEAH, LOOK AT HIM!” Daichi screeched, charging again, Wing Pentact held high. “LOOK AT HIM WHILE I SHOVE THIS SWORD UP THROUGH YOUR FUCKIN’ EAR—FETCHIN’ STYLE!”

Haruna grunted as she barely parried his blow with her PteraArrow. “What even is your goal?! What is this?!”

TurboBlack grinned beneath the helmet. “GOAL? GOAL WAS TO BE LOYAL, BABY! LOYAL TO NOTHING! LOYAL TO THE GROOVE! I’M A DOG WITH A GUN AND I WANNA PLAY!!”

The fetch ball’s spiral began to glow brighter, the bounce now accompanied by a low-frequency hum. With every impact, a dull pulse rattled their chests—resonant and wrong.

“Riki,” TurboYellow snapped, panting, blood dripping down his arm where Daichi had grazed him. “That ball—if it keeps spinning, the others won’t be able to keep focus.”

“I know,” TurboRed hissed. “We end this now.”

He charged, blade swinging low—intended to knock Daichi off his feet.

But Daichi laughed—and jumped, bounding like a beast, his spine writhing, kicking off the wall again to flip over Riki’s back.

“You WANNA end it?!” he shrieked. “You CAN’T end what’s ALREADY SNIFFIN’ ITS OWN ASS!”

Zukabarka nearly collapsed from glee. “YOU SEE?! PURE UNFILTERED ENERGY! HE EVEN GIVES ME A HARD-ON—SPIRITUALLY SPEAKING!”

“SHUT UP, YOU JELLY-FUCKED MANNEQUIN!!” TurboBlack screamed back, dragging his sword against the floor again, then lunging at Haruna with renewed speed. “I’LL KILL YOU, THEN I’LL BITE YOU, THEN I’LL MAKE YOU FUCKIN’ CLAP FOR ME—ALL FOUR OF YOU!”

“Try me, you rabid freak!” TurboPink growled, unleashing a blast from her weapon—only for the beam to bend, its targeting visibly warped.

“I—no! My aim—it’s tracking the spiral now—!”

Zukabarka grinned wide enough to crack his cheeks. “OH YEAH, YOU FEEL THAT? THE FETCH BALL’S BECOMIN’ YOUR FUCKIN’ SUN! YOUR MAGNET! YOUR GUT-PULLIN’ OBEDIENCE GOD!”

“Haruna!” TurboRed shouted, grabbing her shoulder. “Eyes on me. Don’t look at the bounce. Don’t hear the squeak. Just—”

The ball hit the ground again.

Everything shimmered.

Haruna’s eyes widened. Youhei twitched. Both of their visors pulsed red for a split second.

And Zukabarka leaned forward, drool pouring down his front like gravy. “It’s starting, my darlings. Ohhh, it’s starting. The fetch-fever’s sinkin’ in.”

TurboBlack panted, crouched low now, feral in posture, his blade resting on one shoulder like a chew toy.

He didn’t smile anymore. He growled. “Soon they’ll bark louder than me.”

***

It began with the eyes.

Haruna and Youhei’s visors had been flickering ever since the Fetch Ball hit its sixth bounce—but now the light from the spiraling core was no longer just a visual anomaly. It was embedding itself in their helmets. Crawling inward like a disease of light. Each spiral throbbed across the inside of their HUDs, syncing to breath, to pulse, to thought.

Haruna stumbled sideways, one hand clutching her helmet, the other trying to steady her weapon. “I—I can’t stop seeing it,” she stammered, voice cracking. “It’s—it’s spinning behind my eyes—why is it still spinning—!?”

Youhei growled, panting now, the spiral reflecting in both his lenses. “It’s not even outside anymore,” he snapped, knees shaking. “It’s—inside—my fuckin’—fuckin’ HUD! My brain’s—looping, Riki—I can’t track anything except—where is it—where’s the ball—?!”

It was during the height of the chaos—when blasters were still firing, boots still moving with purpose, and the team still believed they had a chance—that the Fetch Ball changed the game.

Until now, it had been a chaotic nuisance—bouncing, squeaking, drawing eyes and disrupting aim. But when Daichi snarled and shouted, “NOW, MASTER, NOW!”, Zukabarka let out a wet bark of approval and slammed his paw into the ground, activating the ball’s true function.

“FETCH MODE: FUCK THEIR BRAINS!!” he roared, laughing so hard his gut slapped his thighs like thunder.

The Fetch Ball froze midair for a second.

Then it ignited.

From its spiral core, beams of strobing, concentrated spiral light exploded outward—grey, green, and gold—aimed directly into Haruna and Youhei’s visors. The orbs in their HUDs began pulsing like panicked heartbeats.

Haruna screamed first.

“AAAAHH—NO—NO—THE LIGHT—INSIDE MY—MY EYES!!”

Her body jolted backward, then twisted violently, hands snapping up to claw at her own helmet as if trying to rip it off from the outside. Her nails scraped over the visor, shrieking across the surface. Sparks flew from her gloves.

“IT’S—I CAN’T—I CAN’T SEE ANYTHING ELSE! IT’S—IT’S—SPINNING!!”

Youhei was already down on one knee, both fists pressed against his helmet sides like he was trying to squeeze the spirals out of his skull.

“MAKE IT STOP—MAKE IT STOP—FUCKING TURN IT OFF—TURN IT OFF!!!” he howled, voice breaking into snarling sobs. “IT’S IN MY BRAIN—IT’S IN—MY BRAIN!!”

Their HUDs glitched violently. Data flickered and collapsed. Targeting systems froze. Their visors lit up from within—not from tech, but from the spiral light crawling across the inner lens, pressing images of infinite spin directly into their retinas.

Riki tried to rush toward them, panic rising in his throat. “Youhei! Haruna! Don’t look at it! JUST CLOSE YOUR EYES!”

But it was far too late. The Fetch Ball screamed through the air and slammed point-blank into Youhei’s helmet with a wet THWOK. It stuck—latched to the visor like a parasite—and unleashed a focused spiral pulse that poured light directly into his eyes.

Youhei’s scream was deafening. “GGGGRRAAAAAAAAHHHH—MY HEAD—MY FUCKIN’ HEAD—AAAGHH—WHAT THE FUCK—WHAT THE FUUUUUUUCKKKKK—!!!”

His arms thrashed wildly. Legs kicked. He slammed his head backward against the floor, over and over. His voice rose and rose, cracking apart.

Then it happened to Haruna. The ball zipped off Youhei’s visor and struck hers next—hard—THWACK, and latched on like a leech, its spiral burning with laser intensity. “I—AAAH—NO—NOOOOO—GET IT OFF—GET IT OFF ME—GET THIS FUCKIN’ THING OFF MEEEE!!”

She clawed madly at her faceplate, body convulsing in place. Her heels scraped the tile. Her body flipped once, as if resisting an exorcism. “I—I—I DON’T KNOW MY NAME—WHAT’S—WHAT’S MY NAME!?!?!”

The final stage began. Zukabarka’s voice dropped low—almost reverent. “NOW… GIVE ME THOSE BRAINS.”

The Fetch Ball pulsed one final time. Inside both helmets, invisible to the others, Haruna and Youhei’s neurons were being spun like wet noodles, exposed to deep spiral programming. Patterns replaced memories. Commands overwrote cognition. Recognition of self shattered into fog.

Both of them let out final, horrid screams—no longer sentences. Just animal howls.

“RRRAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—!!!” “NGGGRRHHHUUUUAAAAAHHHHHHHHH—!!!”

Their suits stiffened.

Their hands dropped from their helmets. Their bodies locked in awkward, twitching poses.

Drool began to leak from under the visors. Thick, slow streams. It dripped onto their armor, mixing with the spiral glyphs now forming across their shoulders and chestplates.

Their visors dimmed. Their minds were gone. And something else slithered in to replace them.

They straightened slowly—first Youhei, then Haruna. Their posture was twitchy, unstable, but steady. Their heads tilted hard left, then right, mimicking the angle of the spiral that had just carved their humanity out.

Zukabarka raised his arms in triumph. “WELCOME TO THE PACK, YA GORGEOUS BRAIN-SLOPPED BITCHES!! HOW’S IT FEEL TO BE DEAD INSIDE AND HARD FOR FETCH?!”

The orb bounced again, BOINGK, a pitch so high it rang like a bell made of rubber and static. Haruna jerked to attention instantly, head snapping toward it like a dog spotting a rabbit.

“R-Haruna!” Riki shouted, grabbing her arm. “Stay with me! Don’t look at it—just listen to me!”

But her pupils were already dilating beneath the visor. “I—WANNA—CAN I—NO—YES—NEED—TO—F-FETCH IT—NEED TO—RRRRR—NO—!!”

She shrieked, stumbling back, dropping her weapon with a thud that echoed through the terminal like a death knell.

Shunsuke moved fast, trying to slam his staff into the ball mid-bounce—but it diverted, like it knew. It zipped upward, spiraled off a support beam, and dropped right between Youhei and Haruna, pulsing wildly. A new light emitted—green-yellow, thick and swirling. A hypnotic lure-glow, pulsing in beats of command.

FETCH
FETCH
FETCH

Their suits shuddered in sync.

Zukabarka’s laughter filled the space like vomit flooding a drain. “OH HELL YES! IT’S WORKIN’! THEY’RE DROOLIN’ IN THEIR BRAINS ALREADY! YOU HEAR THAT, Daichi?! THEY’RE GONNA BE YOUR LITTERMATES!”

Still crouched to the side, Daichi chuckled low—his voice no longer a shout, but a slurred, sticky purr. “Heheheh… yesss… come on, darlings… c-c’mon, don’t leave me lonely in the kennel… you know you wanna roll in it…”

Youhei let out a strangled laugh. Then a growl. “S-suit’s—lagging—vision—v-vibrating—I’M NOT—I’M NOT A DOG—” His voice broke into static.

“I’M—RRRGHH—NOT—F-F-FUCKIN’ FETCHIN’—GGKK—RRRRAAGHH—I AM—!!!”

He leapt—not at the monster, not at the ball—but toward the floor, hands slapping down as he chased the rubber blur in a crawling dash, barking.

Haruna wasn’t far behind. Her limbs jittered, then arched, her spine curving down as she followed the squeak trail, drooling now inside her helmet. “IT’S—IT’S—RIGHT THERE—SO FAST—GONNA—CATCH IT!!”

Shunsuke’s voice roared above it all. “Riki! They’re going—feral! We need to knock them out, or we lose them!”

Zukabarka clapped both his fat hands, laughing so hard his gut shook like a drowned corpse on a trampoline. “TOO LATE, CHICKENSHITS! THE FETCH INFECTION IS FULL-FLOWING NOW! WOOF WOOF, YOU PRETTY PISSBABIES!”

Haruna slammed into Riki as she dove, knocking him aside with an inhuman grunt. “G-GONNA—GONNA BITE IT—GONNA—CHASE—WAG!!”

Her limbs were twitching. Her fingers curled like claws. She was panting now. Audibly. The internal mic caught every rasp. “NEED TO MOVE FASTER—FUCKIN’—PAWS TOO SLOW—RRRGGHH—C-CLAW ME!”

Youhei’s voice was worse. “I—RRRUUUFF—RUFF—RUUUUFF!! I SEE IT! I SEE THE BALL—GOD, I LOVE IT—I’LL FUCKIN’ BITE THROUGH STONE TO GET IT—!!”

He screamed, tackled Shunsuke—hard—knocking him backward as the spiral flashes burst across his visor. His tongue thudded against the helmet mouthguard, leaving foggy streaks.

Daichi barked from the side now, fully joined in. “YEAH, BABIES! MAKE SOME NOISE! GO GET IT! GNAW ON IT! GNAW ON EACH OTHER! FUCKIN’ ROLL OVER AND SHOW ME YOUR WORTHLESS BELLIES!”

Riki grabbed Haruna’s arm again, trying to pull her up. “You’re a goddamn engineer! You’re not a mutt! Haruna—YOU BUILT YOUR SUIT FROM SCRATCH!”

But she wasn’t listening. She was howling now. High-pitched. Ragged. “RRRAAAAH—TOO FAST—CAN’T—H-H-HAVE TO—TOO FUN—DON’T WANNA THINK!!”

Her visor locked. Her HUD went blank. Then rebooted with a single phrase, repeated:

TARGET ACQUIRED:
SPIRAL. FETCH. OBEY.

Zukabarka rose to full height, arms spread wide, drool pouring in rivulets. “AAAAAND THEY’RE IN THE KENNEL! WELCOME HOME, YOU FILTHY FUCKERS!!”

Haruna and Youhei stopped crawling only for a second.

Then their backs arched. Their knees bent fully to the ground. Their gloved fingers tapped against the floor in rhythm with the bouncing ball.

Their voices came next—loud, synchronized, both distorted through helmet filters. “WE—WE—WE FUCKIN’ FETCH!!”

And they attacked together like dogs off leashes. But not to fight the monster. To bring down their own team.

Shunsuke barely had time to adjust his stance before Youhei came tearing across the floor like a feral animal—helmet down, shoulders hunched, feet slapping wet tile like paws too big for his body.

“RUFFRUFFRUFF—GONNA FUCKIN’ MAUL YA, BIG GUY!” Youhei snarled, voice glitched with static and saliva. “I WANNA BITE THROUGH YOUR THROAT—NOT CUZ I HATE YA—CUZ IT FEELS RIGHT!”

He leapt, laughing like a hyena, and Shunsuke only just dodged—slamming his shoulder into the wall as Youhei scraped past, claws dragging through concrete like he was carving bones.

Haruna was next. She skittered on all fours, her helmet jerking side to side with sickening speed, tongue audible through the mic as she panted. “RRRAHHHH—CAN’T STOP—WANT IT ALL—GODDAMN SNIFFIN’ YOUR FEAR FROM HERE, RYO-BITCH—WANNA GNAW YOUR FUCKIN’ TOES OFF!”

Riki backed up fast, blade raised, breath stuttering. “Haruna. Youhei. Please. You’re still in there. You have to be.”

“IN HERE?” Haruna barked back, slamming her fists into the floor before launching into a spin, tailbone kicking wide like a mutt trying to dig a tunnel into hell. “NOTHIN’ LEFT IN HERE EXCEPT BALLS AND BEGGING! I’M GONNA MAKE YOU YELP WHEN I PIN YOU DOWN!”

She dashed at him, one hand dragging her clawed glove through the muck, her visor glowing spirals that twitched in erratic rhythm.

From the side, Daichi paced slowly—calm in contrast, but no less unhinged. His armor twitched with static pulses. He still held his Wing Pentact sword, lazily dragging it along the wall with an awful screech as sparks popped and cracked off his path.

“Ahhh, fuckin’ finally,” Daichi sighed through his teeth, tongue clicking. “Always knew these two had it in ‘em. Little stray instincts just needed a nudge. And now look at ‘em—foamin’, fidgetin’, fuckin’ fabulous.”

He spun his sword once before slicing the air. “So, what’s the plan, huh? You two gonna squeal and run like rabbits? Or we gonna herd you like proper prey—cut you, chase you, piss on your armor?”

Youhei landed beside Daichi with a heavy splash, bouncing once on all fours before growling toward Shunsuke. “OH YEAH—OH FUCK YEAH, LET’S HERD! WE’LL ROLL ‘EM IN THEIR OWN BLOOD AND THEN LICK IT CLEAN!”

Haruna barked twice, hard and high-pitched, as if answering a command. “FUCK YEAH! I WANNA MARK THE PINK ONE’S CORPSE! WHICH ONE’S THE PINK ONE?! I FORGOT! I’LL SLURP ‘EM BOTH!”

Riki swung out, trying to create distance. “Don’t make me do this! Daichi—pull them back! You’re controlling this!”

“Controlling?!” Daichi laughed, wild and loud. “Shit, Red, I’m not even steering—I’m just enjoying the chase! You think they’re broken? Nah. They’re free. THIS is what being a Ranger should’ve been: claws out, mind off, and zero goddamn rules.”

The trio lunged together.

Haruna leapt high, twisting midair in a corkscrew, shrieking with distorted laughter.

Youhei crawled forward at horrifying speed, slapping his palms down like rabid paws.

Daichi rushed low, sword slicing in an upward arc toward Shunsuke’s ribs.

Shunsuke blocked the blow with the shaft of his Brachio Staff, but the impact sent pain ricocheting down his arms. “They’re coordinated,” he hissed to Riki. “They’re acting like a pack.”

Riki nodded grimly. “Because they are.”

Across the room, Zukabarka chuckled, still seated on his massive haunches, drool dripping freely from his mouth and belly folds, his tongue twitching as he wheezed like a drunk walrus. He hadn’t moved an inch, but his anticipation filled the chamber like gas waiting for a match.

“LOOK AT ‘EM!” he howled, slapping his gut, sending ripples across it like a living drum. “MY FUCKIN’ RANGER DOGGIES! TOLD YA I’D HOUSEBREAK ‘EM—NOW THEY’RE SNIFFIN’ EACH OTHER’S ASSES BEFORE THEY EAT YOU ALIVE!”

He paused, eyes gleaming. “Don’t worry… I’ll get mine too. Just lettin’ the mutts have fun first. Prime the meat.”

Youhei pounced again—this time tackling Shunsuke from the side, dragging both of them into a mess of grime and sparks. He howled, gnashing his helmet mouthpiece against Shunsuke’s armor like he was trying to bite through it. “I’M GONNA TASTE YOUR FUCKIN’ CORE! I’LL LICK YOUR SOUL AND SPIT IT IN THE TOILET!”

Shunsuke screamed, throwing him off just as Daichi came in again, sword sweeping low.

Haruna hit Riki from behind, cackling. “I USED TO FIX ENGINES—NOW I WANNA GUT ‘EM! OPEN YOU UP AND SLURP WHAT’S LEFT!”

Riki snarled, trying to wrestle her off. “Haruna—! Please—!! You’re smarter than this!”

“HAHA—NOT ANYMORE!!” she screamed in reply. “I’M DUMBER THAN DOGSHIT AND TWICE AS HAPPY!”

They fell into mud and spiral light, locked in a melee where instincts reigned and logic was a forgotten language.

Zukabarka’s grin widened.

“ALMOST READY…” he hissed, pressing both hands into the floor, letting out a slow, horrific belch. “GUT’S WARMIN’ UP REAL NICE. I’M GONNA SQUASH WHOEVER’S LEFT—SLOW.”

The Fetch Ball bounced once more, just behind the chaos.

Haruna and Youhei froze mid-snarl, both their heads jerking instantly toward it like trained hounds.