"Have you ever heard of the Galaxy Rangers?"
It might've been a casual question thrown into the crowd—just a stray comnt—but to certain people, it was enough to make them stop and listen.
Monts like this played out across different places, different tis, and vastly different settings.
In a hyper-technological tropolis, a cybernetically enhanced man shut off his commlink and fell silent.
On a battlefield long after the war had ended, soone chuckled softly and sat amidst a pile of soldiers, quietly tuning in.
At a refueling station in the middle of the galaxy, a father raised a hand to quiet his daughter's complaints. Without realizing it, he leaned closer to the group that had just spoken.
Their outward lives were vastly different—but in that mont, they all made the sa choice.
Maybe it was because sothing inside them still hadn't settled.
"Galaxy Rangers? Yeah, I know them. They're in the Interastral Peace Company's manual, right? That group that hasn't made a move in years."
Soone flipped open the Company-issued handbook, reading aloud from the section on that very group.
"Followers of Lan, the Aeon of the Hunt. So they're just another Path faction? Honestly, they'd probably be better off joining the regulation program run by our AI governors."
The cyborg simply smiled, saying nothing.
"...A self-ford group of vigilantes? Hey, isn't that just like you, bro? Talking about justice all the ti, and then jumping into our planet's defense like a lunatic."
The war-scarred man surrounded by soldiers rely grinned, revealing a set of strikingly white teeth as he wiped gri off his face.
"...They praise Lan's swift, decisive justice—sounds like a pretty hard group to manage. Hope they don't show up at our station."
Ignoring the annoyed looks from his wife and daughter, the middle-aged man just smiled mysteriously and stayed quiet.
Those flipping through the Interastral Peace Handbook all found their eyes drifting to the final line in the entry—and found themselves thinking sothing new about the group.
[They believe that kindness and justice across the universe must be upheld through individual action.]
And who wouldn't want to wield their own strength in the na of justice?
For reasons they couldn't na, a quiet curiosity sparked in their hearts.
So went on reading the fine print at the bottom of the entry:
[Handbook Note: It's said that Galaxy Rangers unite under a shared code]:
1) Do not bully the weak.
2) Do not kill indiscriminately (questionable).
(Unless necessary, do not engage with Galaxy Rangers casually. Their moral code appears... flexible.)
Upon reading that, most just chuckled, not saying much.
After all, ever since they'd thwarted the Genius Society's 64th Seat—the Primal Doctor—and his regression experints, the Rangers had mostly vanished from galactic view.
Legend said they'd beco mortal enemies with the Primal Doctor and t a tragic fate. These days, the Galaxy Rangers were little more than rumor.
It's not like one of them would be lurking nearby, eavesdropping... right?
...Right?
He set the handbook down and looked up at the sky—only to feel sothing was... off.
He recalibrated his visual input module. And there, high in the starry dark, sothing glimred.
"That's..."
Suddenly, there was movent nearby. He turned and saw another cyborg—one built much like himself—sprinting at full speed toward the port.
"Hey, what the hell? Where are you going?!"
His fellow soldiers all looked at the man with dals pinned across his chest in confusion. Then they too followed his gaze upward—and saw the glimr.
A brilliant, silver flash in the night sky.
Clatter!
A middle-aged man looked up in disbelief, knocking over the bench he'd been sitting on. But he didn't care.
His eyes were fixed on the sky above. And when his family looked too—they understood why he looked so shaken.
[Flight ID: 37542. Confirm departure from current planetary port? Please note that you have an arm-upgrade surgery scheduled in three days. Cancel to proceed.]
"Cancel. Cancel it. We've got sothing far more important to do."
[Understood. Cancelling surgery appointnt. Please provide a reason for cancellation.]
"Do I even need to say it?"
A smile crept across his lips. His eyes never left that flickering silver light in the sky.
"Brothers... looks like I'm heading out again. You all keep watch over the peace we fought so hard to win."
Amid the stunned stares of his fellow soldiers, the man draped in dals called forth his personal ship.
"Big bro, where are you going?!"
"Isn't it obvious?"
Back at the station, the middle-aged man snapped out of his daze. He glanced at his family—only to find they'd already packed their things.
"Well, looks like our little vacation ends here."
"Ugh. Stupid dad ran off again."
The man could only flash an awkward grin as he followed after them.
"Wait! Your ship only just docked. It hasn't even fully refueled—wandering in deep space right now is dangerous!"
"There's no ti. Handle the paperwork for us, would you?"
After finalizing their departure, the station staffer couldn't help asking:
"Is sothing urgent going on?"
The man just smiled.
"Of course it's urgent."
On the cancellation form for the surgery, one line stood out, stamped in bold:
[I received the call.]
His grin lit up against the soot on his face, teeth white as moonlight. And he said simply:
"I must answer it."
With a wave goodbye to the refueling station he'd barely arrived at, the man called out:
"As always."
"Because who we really are—has never changed."
"That light in the sky... it's the call of our comrade!"
They might've looked different on the outside. Their lives were scattered across the stars. But at the mont they saw that distant gleam, their choices aligned.
No matter the surgeries they'd scheduled.
No matter the peace they'd just settled into.
No matter the family vacations they were in the middle of—
When the star shone, they knew.
"Our comrade faces the darkest hour—and we shall be the light that cuts through it!"
Ships ignited, destinations locked, thrusters at full burn!
For the coming dawn!
The three of them spotted each other's vessels in orbit—though they'd never t before. And yet, just answering the sa call was enough to bring the sa smile to all their faces.
And it wasn't just them.
Dozens. Hundreds. Thousands of ships hurtled toward the sa beacon.
In this mont, their identities aligned.
We are...
Galaxy Rangers!
[Power Refresh Countdown: 01:59:59]
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