Chapter 176: Making A Statement It was the middle of the day, a time when most students were supposed to be sitting in classrooms, heads buried in textbooks or pretending to pay attention. But storming down the street with exaggerated huffs and puffs was one particular student who clearly had other things on his mind. "A job just for me," Joe muttered under his breath, kicking a stray pebble down the sidewalk. "If they say it like that, do they really think I’m gonna be happy about it?" His voice was full of frustration. "I know those two tricked me. Why couldn’t they send Jay? Oh, what, because he’s too scary? He’s the big pink giant? No one’s scared of him?" Images flashed through Joe’s mind, visions of Jay effortlessly lifting students into the air and slamming them onto the floor as if they weighed nothing. It wasn’t a stretch. He had seen it happen. "For a so-called friendly giant, he sure seems to enjoy hurting people," Joe grumbled, shaking his head as if trying to clear the image away. "And those two are the worst at convincing anyone of anything." He mimicked their voices in a mocking tone. "You can have the day off school, Joe. It’s totally fine." Then his tone shifted into irritation again. "They make it sound like I even study during school hours. And since when did Max get so buddy-buddy with the teachers that anyone could just skip class whenever they wanted?" Joe sighed, his shoulders sagging. The declared bout was scheduled for tomorrow, which meant someone had to deliver the message today, and of course, that someone was him. Which also meant venturing into enemy territory alone. Clapton High. They weren’t exactly fans of Joe or his school, especially not after the chaos Jay and Max had caused during that infamous attack. Tensions were still high, and Joe knew full well he’d be walking into a lion’s den. Still, orders were orders. A few blocks away from the school, Joe stood by a lonely bus stop on a nearly deserted street. This was his next checkpoint, one more instruction he had to follow before completing the actual delivery. As he waited, a sleek black car pulled up in front of him. It looked expensive. Too expensive for a place like this. Joe immediately tensed, his instincts flaring. ’Rich snobs coming to this crap hole? That’s a red flag if I’ve ever seen one,’ he thought suspiciously. ’They’re probably here to kidnap someone and harvest their organs or something.’ But then the car door opened, and the moment Joe saw who stepped out, his paranoia shifted into something else entirely. "Aron," Joe said, blinking in disbelief as the familiar figure stepped out of the sleek black car. "You look surprised to see me," Aron replied with a casual smirk, holding something wrapped neatly in a cloth bag. "Didn’t Max tell you? I was coming to give you a few things." Without waiting for a response, Aron reached into the bag and pulled out two items. The first was a bank card, sleek and black. The second, a folded-up bank statement, stamped with the official insignia of the bank, making it look completely legitimate. Joe took them slowly, raising an eyebrow. "An explanation with this?" "Of course," Aron said, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Inside that account are the funds for what’s happening tomorrow. The card grants access to the full amount, as long as the correct PIN is entered." Joe examined the card closely. It looked real enough. Still, he flipped open the statement to get a clearer picture, scanning the rows until his eyes landed on the balance. His heart skipped a beat. Just like Max promised, it was a lot of money. "The statement is for proof," Aron continued, his tone more serious now. "Anyone who doubts the card’s legitimacy can walk straight into that bank, hand them that sheet, and they’ll verify it. No ID necessary. The stamp confirms everything." Joe’s fingers tightened around the card, eyes narrowing at the sum again. Thoughts began swirling in his head. What would happen if I just took this and ran? he wondered. "It’d be useless," Aron said flatly, his voice cutting through Joe’s thoughts like a knife. "At the moment, there’s no PIN assigned. Tomorrow, Max will be the one to receive it." Joe’s expression dropped. Once again, Aron had read him like an open book. Now it all made sense. The winner of tomorrow’s bout would receive the PIN and, along with it, control over the money. It wasn’t just a flashy gesture, this was Max’s way of proving to Rick and everyone else that he was serious. That the money was real. And that he was all-in. Aron then reached back into the bag and pulled out something else, a large bundle of fabric. He handed it to Joe. "What’s this now?" Joe asked, already bracing for more surprises. "That," Aron said, "is what Max said you need to wear to complete your task." Joe tucked the folded bank statement carefully into his inner jacket pocket and slid the card into the back pocket of his jeans. Then, with a sigh, he unfolded the bundle. It was a jacket. But not just any jacket. As he flipped it around in his hands, he spotted the distinct design printed boldly on the back, a blood-red droplet resting atop a crimson diamond, and wrapped beneath it, a snake coiled into the shape of a dollar sign. Joe stared at it for a long second. "Oh man," he muttered. "He really wants to make a statement." It was the Bloodline Gym logo, the same one they had been using up until now. But this version was different. The jacket wasn’t like the typical gym gear the others wore. No, this was oversized, bold, and meant to be noticed. "No way. He wants me to go into Clapton wearing this?" Joe said, holding the jacket out at arm’s length. "He seriously wants me to announce to the whole school that I’m coming?" Aron took a small step back and cleared his throat with a purposeful cough. "That jacket," he began, his voice adopting a formal tone, "is only given to the rangers of the team." Joe looked up, confused. "Rangers?" "I was made one myself," Aron continued. "And I’ll be delivering jackets like this to the rest of the rangers as well." He spoke with a quiet sense of pride, as if the term held deep weight. "When you wear that, you’re representing the core members of the Bloodline group. It’s not just clothing, it’s a statement. So wear it with pride. And only when it really matters." At first, Joe had thought the jacket was ridiculous, some oversized fashion stunt meant to draw attention. But now, learning it was one-of-a-kind? That changed things. It wasn’t like the regular merch that anyone could buy online or at the gym. This was special. He was a part of something. And not just part of it, he was at the start of something. Suddenly, all the complaining he’d done earlier felt kind of embarrassing. Without another word, Joe slipped the jacket on. It hung a little loose at the shoulders, but as he adjusted it, he realized something surprising, it actually fit perfectly. "They’re custom made," Aron said with a small nod. "Each one designed for its owner. Right now, one is being crafted for every ranger as we speak." "Oh really?" Joe raised an eyebrow, adjusting the collar. "And who else is in this elite ranger squad of yours?" "Myself, Jay, and Steven," Aron replied. "We’re the only ones receiving them for now. There are plans to expand the group in the future, but only for those who prove themselves." He paused, then cleared his throat again. "As I mentioned earlier, each one is specially made. If you look on the inside of your jacket..." Joe opened the front flap, his fingers brushing against the inner lining. It was soft, smoother than anything he’d ever worn. Silk, maybe? But what really caught his eye was the color. The interior of the jacket was completely green. Just above the inner coat pocket, stitched into the fabric in clean, bold lettering were the words: [Green Ranger] Joe blinked. "...Okay. That’s actually kind of cool."