i'm not letting you sleep on the floor + boom! comics mmpr; Bulk (I am not choosy about which version)
Nothing's What It Appears
The proof is in the pudding, as they say, and when push came to shove, when all the chips were down, Bulk discovered his true greatness. Though others often treated him as ‘stupid’ and ‘lazy’ and ‘obnoxious’, he was anything but those degrading adjectives. In retrospect, his atrocious behavior and commentary did nothing to persuade otherwise.
He could see that now, when such matters were the last thing on anyone’s mind.
Bulk always aspired to greatness or fame or heroism as if they were his birthrights. He wanted to be noticed, to stand out, to be special. Which he’d succeeded in doing, just not the way he envisioned in his fantasies. The bully often stared out the windows in the wide blue yonder, his brain galivanting off on magical quests where he, and he alone, was able to slay the monsters, rescue the fair damsel, and return to a parade of accolades and admiration.
His grades certainly suffered for it, though in actuality, Bulk was quite intelligent. He loved history even if he couldn’t say such a statement out loud. His friends would tease him mercilessly for being ‘nerdy’. Oddly enough, not one would dare make a pithy comment regarding the teen’s larger frame as they might a less terrifying individual.
That was one thing that Farkas was secretly ashamed of, his weight having been a touchy subject most of his life. As a child, he’d always carried a little more ‘cushioning’ as his mom called it and there was not a thing wrong with a squishy, pinchable little boy. His grandmother, when she came to visit on holidays, typically Thanksgiving and Christmas, when one was SUPPOSED to enjoy the abundance of delicious food, would look at her grandson and just shake her head.
“Mae, that child needs to go on a diet! He’s almost as big as a house!” she’d scold, while Bulk sat awkwardly at the table, dinner plate waiting before him. “How’s he ever supposed to…”
The pair would argue loudly, garnering the attention of everyone else present and the embarrassed Farkas would feel their eyes looking at him with disgust before surveying the contents and the amounts on his plate with judgement.
Even if he was absolutely starving, Bulk’s appetite would fly the coop and he’d quietly excuse himself from the table only to disappear to his room to sob in secret.
To his mother, food was love and sure, he loved to eat the food she prepared.
“Just for you, sweetie!” she’d coo.
The growing weight only exacerbated his insecurities, the type that most everyone suffered from in childhood. Even then, Bulk would spend hours pouring over his collection of comics, along with Skull, who couldn’t afford such frivolities. Spiderman, Batman, the Flash, Iron Man, the Hulk… all sporting ripped abs and mountainous biceps.
‘Whoever heard of a fat superhero,’ Farkas glumly realized. ‘There’s no super cool suit to wear unless you’re built like a Greek statue…’
Skull would gamely pat his hand, at such times leaving his cheeky observations and wit on the back burner. He truly meant what he told Bulk and he meant it with reverence as someone of his particular build could be snapped like a twig.
“Don’t worry, Bulky! If any bad guys tried to take over, you’d could just sit on them! Smash ‘em into the dirt!”
That wasn’t the fighting style of his daydreams… and was certainly never depicted in the comics. Or movies.
Just cartoons and just for making fun of a character.
It was bullshit…
He was tired of being referred to as ‘fat ass’, husky, stout, ‘pig’ and a variety of other wounding descriptors.
Perhaps he just wasn’t cut out to be a hero. Maybe he didn’t deserve to stand out or be special…
When Tommy transferred to Angel Grove High, Bulk had attempted to assert his authority and put the surly teen in his place from the jump. Of course, that went over like a brick wall with the new student unleashing a torrent of curses and insults, may of which the bully had never even heard before.
“If you get in my face again, you fat tub of shit, I swear to all fuck that I will butcher you like they do pigs at market,” Oliver whispered, voice eerily growing calm and his eyes pooling creepy flood of black where Bulk had been sure they’d been hazel.
And this was all way before he’d gotten any possessed coin.
The fucking dick only continue to grow worse, a hateful, spiteful, unfeeling demon masquerading as human. Eventually, he’d sunk his fangs gums deep in Jason and his little cluster of dorks. Bulk thought the group of friends to be annoying and enjoyed pestering them, but this shit was off the charts.
Skull was sure that Tommy was a serial killer or would eventually become one, explaining to Bulk and their assorted crew that the other teen was seriously messed up in the head.
“Oliver’s the type to keep his victims locked in his basement until he tires of them,” Eugene whispered, glancing over as said teen stood at his locker, back to them. “And keep body parts as souvenirs. Stay the fuck away from him!”
The Skullovitch’s lived in the same neighborhood as the Oliver’s and the lanky teen shared with his best all the wild, crazy shit that went on over at their house: the abusive, loud alcoholic father, screeching, slutty looking mother, and Tommy giving as good as he got at times and at others blankly giving in to his punishments.
Every goddamn day it was something with that prick though…
Usually, Tommy would be swinging fists and brawling with Jason up and down the hall or he’d decide it was Zack’s turn to be his punching bag. Bulk was sure he was behind the rumor that Kimberly had been seen sucking Jason’s dick in the locker room at the Youth Center, landing both teens in the counselor’s office. He’d heard from Sharkie that Tommy had even tried to plant drugs in their lockers, but fortunately hadn’t been successful.
Even Matthew Cook tried to step in and intervene between this dervish and the other teens and ended up with a black eye, split lip, and a detention to show for it.
Bulk wished he were brave enough to throw Oliver into a locker, toss him in a trash can where he belonged. That was his new fantasy, throwing himself between that asshole and Jase and his pals. He’d bloody Tommy’s face and force him to apologize for his bullshit in front of everyone!
Oh, how he wished!
Then the day came that Skull, scrawny, boney-butt Skull, went one on one with the Green Ranger, saving the Blue Ranger from certain death by shoving the evil monster from the second floor of the mall. It had all been caught on tape and was played on the news for weeks.
Bulk crowed from the rooftops how proud he was of his best friend, and he truly was. He just wished he’d been there, been brave enough to do such a dumbass thing. Skull didn’t seem to like the attention all that much and shied away from the spotlight, something Farkas couldn’t understand.
But little did he know he’d get his chance to be a hero. He’d get more than one as would Eugene…
The time came when he and Skull saved Jason from Tommy’s punk-ass sneak attack at the Youth Center. Sure, they hadn’t went toe to toe with the nutty fuck, but he hadn’t gotten to Jase and that’s what mattered. The dark-haired teen wouldn’t discuss why he and Oliver were at odds and seemed shaken up that he’d been lying in wait for him.
However, it seemed that for no apparent reason Tommy eventually turned his wrath on Skull. And that was just not going down on Bulk’s watch.
Eugene had seemed more distant than usual, though he denied anything was amiss. Farkas had no way of knowing that the smaller boy had discovered the Rangers’ identities and had started a budding relationship with Billy, the Blue Ranger. Of course, Skull wanted to spend more and more time with his boyfriend, the pair meeting in secret and enjoying something that was just theirs.
That all changed when he discovered the bruise to Skull’s shoulder, left when Tommy paid him a visit, viciously shoving the smaller teen down in his own bedroom.
“Where the hell you’d get that battle wound, Ranger Rescuer,” Bulk teased, pointing to the dusky purple marring the pale skin.
“Ehhh… I dunno. Don’t remember.”
He was obviously lying, his grey eyes looking everywhere but his friend’s face. They were sitting in the lunchroom at school, the loud laughing and razzing of other students had nearly drowned out Skull’s lackluster response.
“Bullshit, buddy! Who hurt you? Cause I’m gonna beat the brakes off ‘em!”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Bulky. I’m fine! Can we just drop it?” Eugene whimpered.
But Bulk caught Skull glancing in Oliver’s direction, the venomous asshole seated at a table on the far side of the room, alone of course.
“It was him, wasn’t it! He hurt you! What the fuck is his problem?”
Pushing back from the table, he was on fire now. Skull scrambled to grab Bulk’s leather jacket, trying to pull him back down, pleading for him not to go over there, it wasn’t fucking worth it!
“Nah, this shit has gone on long enough! He’s never putting hands on you again, Skull!”
But before he could make his way over to where Tommy sat, the long-haired teen, with no apparent reason or trigger, shoved away from his lunch, darted across the lunchroom, and began pummeling Jason, grabbing him from behind by his hair and yanking him backward off his stool. Jase hit the floor hard and his head bounced off the tile, leaving a bright red streak to Bulk’s horror.
Laying there, Jason could only attempt defensive techniques as Zack, Billy, Trini, and Kimberly ran around to jump on Tommy’s back.
Then here came Bulk, like a charging bull, steaming issuing from his nostrils as he too grabbed a handful of hair, twisting Tommy’s head and neck painfully and pulling hard. Long strands came away with a sickening ripping sound and the green clad teen shrieked in fury, hands going to his scalp and abandoning Jason’s blood-covered face.
The whole lunchroom erupted, some students screaming in fear, others cheering and whooping at Oliver finally getting a come-uppance. It took several teachers and Mr. Kaplan to put an end to the wild free-for-all and it didn’t escape their notice that ALL the blows were directed at Tommy. Of course, fighting was an automatic detention for everyone involved no matter their role.
Jason ended up going to the nurse’s office and from there his worried and angry parents picked him up and took him to the emergency room to get checked out. Tommy’s parents never even answered their phone, not for the school nor the Scotts, who were discussing pressing charges and getting protective orders.
Not that they had enough time for everything to progress at all.
A short time later, Jason destroyed the Sword of Darkness, Tommy made his vile decision, and monsters roamed the earth in numbers the Rangers were unable to manage. The city nearly emptied, as citizens fled in terror. But things got much, much worse….
Just when they thought they were turning a corner, close to gaining the upper hand, they were brutally disappointed, shocked into near catatonic states at the sight of a bloody, shattered red Tyranno helmet and the hateful asshole bedecked in new colors.
Bulk had been there that day, trying his best to gather everyone he could find, to get them somewhere safe. Skull was at his shoulder, his nimble frame crawling into crumbling buildings and nearly smashed flat vehicles, searching for survivors. Trying to find a place to go, they’d ended up with ringside seats to Ascension Day (Ass-cention Day as Skull dubbed it later). Clearly, they’d taken a wrong turn.
“Rangers!” a voice boomed. “Take a look at what’s become of your precious leader!”
Holding the helmet before them, the others stared in disbelief, unable to defend themselves from a barrage of blows and strikes.
“Geez o’fuck, Bulky! Whoever that is killed the Red Ranger! We’re screwed!”
Bulk didn’t answer, watching this newest Ranger twirl as if on a runway in Milan. That voice was familiar.
“I know that voice, Skull!”
Now the floodgates opened. It didn’t matter anymore…
“It’s fucking Oliver, Bulk! That fucking dick motherfucker was the Green Ranger and now he’s… I don’t even fucking know! But Jason’s dead!” he screamed in anguish.
Neither teen nor anyone else noticed the group of putties carrying a severely injured, unconscious Jason Scott into a large transportation pod. It would be decades before the truth was revealed.
Once the dust had settled and he’d assured himself that all the people in his charge had been properly assessed and fed, did Bulk consider thinking about caring for his own needs. His grimy, tattered shirt clung to the sweat-sticky skin of his back, making him itch, and his was streaked with dark, sooty smudges. Mentally and physically he was drained.
Leaning against the wall in a darkened corridor, illuminated only by a small flashlight, Bulk finally allowed himself to cry. The tears tracked in smeary trickles down his full cheeks and hung suspended from lips and chin.
‘This can’t be happening. It can’t be real!’
The remaining Rangers were nestled in his care, carefully tucked into cots in a large conference room of the abandoned facility. They rarely spoke or even responded, so shocked and traumatized by the unexpected turn of events that they merely behaved like dolls or small frightened toddlers.
Besides Kimberly, who spit fire and venom, all the while still sobbing, threats and curses and promises of vengeance filling the air until she’d finally fallen into an exhausted slumber.
How could he have known the Power Rangers were so close? It all made sense now. Oliver’s vicious and unpredictable temperament, the other teens’ frequent disappearances, and unexplained injuries of the past. No wonder Tommy had been obsessing over Jason; the Green Ranger was out to murder the Red…
During the dangerous trek to safety, Skull confessed every damn thing and pleaded forgiveness. To which Bulk replied that was silly, of course he wasn’t angry or going to hold it against him. None of that meant jack-shit now. And his relationship with Billy wasn’t all that surprising, considering all the clues he’d glossed over in ignorance.
Now, Jason was dead, the Rangers near catatonic and almost without all the power coins, and that fucking dick bitch was hunting them down. How the fuck were they going to avoid him forever? There was no way!
“But he’s not getting the others, not no way, not no how! Or Eugene… He’ll have to go through me!” he hissed through his muffled cries.
‘Like that will be hard for him, doofus! He has two fucking coins and he took Jason out! How are you even the slightest threat to this ‘Lord Drakkon’?’
But he was determined to try.
Footsteps echoing down the hall caught his attention and he quickly ran his hands over his reddened, tear covered face, not caring that the darkness would hide most of the evidence.
“You alright, Bulky?”
Skull gingerly moved toward him, his flashlight bobbing as he walked.
“Why are you hiding out down here?”
Farkas sighed and sucked back a deluge of snot. His friend waited patiently, knowing the other teen needed time to process his scattered thoughts.
“Well, Skull, compared to everyone else, I’m fine. I got lucky, just a few minor cuts and bumps,” he grunted, pulling himself off the wall. “I just needed a minute to think. Like its going to make a damn bit of difference.”
“It might.”
“How? How is it going to change anything that’s happened?” Bulk suddenly yelled, unable to stifle his emotions any longer.
Skull spread his arms, the beam from the flashlight wildly arcing along the paint chipped walls.
“I’ll tell you how, buddy! It might make a difference for them,” he argued, pointing back along the hall towards where the survivors hunkered down. “So far, no one else has had grand ideas or has been capable of making a decision about one goddamn thing! Only you!”
The blonde hung his head as he listened to Eugene’s rant.
“Even the Rangers can’t do any of that right now! YOU gathered all of us, YOU got us around Fuckwad’s goons, YOU decided where we needed to get to and got us here, YOU even triaged and treated injuries, YOU cooked a massive meal, YOU, YOU, YOU!”
Wanting to shake the larger teen in annoyance, Skull hissed through clenched teeth.
“You are so BRAVE!”
At that, Bulk’s cheeks colored for a different reason.
“You really think I’m brave, Skully?” he whispered. “I’m no superhero, I don’t have special powers. I’m just a fat, loud-mouthed, smart-ass punk…”
“All that shit doesn’t matter to a hill of beans! Powers and secret identities and superheroes! Look what happened to our friends, the Rangers!” His voice dropped lest it carry back to the demoralized teens.
“Drakkon TOOK their special powers, he KILLED Jason, the goddamn Red fucking Power Ranger! He’s evil and crazy and he’s not going to stop until he gets all the other Rangers too! We’ve gotta be crazier and smarter than him, Bulk! Or we are all FUCKED!” Skull yelled, gripping Bulk’s shoulders now.
“We NEED someone like you, we’re counting on you!” he continued. “So, let’s go lick our wounds in private, then you and I will work together to get everyone as far from that psycho as possible.”
Stepping back, he noted the slumped shoulders and weary features just visible under the flashlight’s glow.
“But first, you have to get some rest, Bulk, or you’re gonna fall right over,” he decided. “Come on, this way.”
Taking his friend’s elbow, Eugene led the way to another room off the corridor. There was a bed with a small side table, a chest of drawers, and a hospital-style curtain divider.
“This is the last bed open and you’re taking it, pal.”
Bulk blinked, his green eyes scratchy with exhaustion and strain.
“What about you, Skull? I’m not letting you sleep on the floor!”
“Who said I was going to sleep?” Eugene asked, though it wasn’t a question. “Someone’s going to need to keep watch. I’ll grab my 40 winks later. Now get your ass in that bed and don’t sass me.”
“Alright, mom..” Bulk deadpanned, too tired to argue further.
Skull was right. About a lot of things really. And that wasn’t something he could normally claim as fact. Clearly the ramifications of Lord Drakkon’s birth and possession of not one, but two coins tied to this mysterious ‘Grid’ Skull described from he remembered of Billy’s explanation, were going to be vast and far reaching. He couldn’t verbalize it accurately, but Bulk could feel the very atmosphere, the ground beneath his feet, the air circulating the blue and green ball of mud, were twisting and writhing as if in death throes, gasping and grunting as all faded to nothingness.
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