Ncr Ranger Outfit Novels & Stories

Lucas I sat still and allowed Ryker to put me into my wrestling outfit. It was custom-made for me, a red bone — the symbol of our pack— sown on the posterior side of the black outfit. Ryker did buckles at both sides of me, running behind me to do up the buttons and bending over to get my gladiator boots. They had been brushed and mended by skilled fingers, looking almost good as new. Once he was done lacing the boots, he walked around to fetch my leather belt. He found it hanging off a window and cursed at the careless attendants.

Until a heavy boot kicked her shorts into the water. Jade sat up fast, water sloshing around her bare chest. The man towering over her was not impressed. He wore a deep green ranger’s uniform, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, forearms roped with muscle and veins. His badge glinted in the sunlight. His face was shadowed by a tilted cap and a scowl that made her thighs clench under the water. “You want to tell me what the hell you’re doing camping in a protected zone?” he asked.

"Guessing the 'Power Rangers' are still asleep..." "The what?" Instead of answering with words, I pointed at the framed, blown-up group photo hanging from one of the brick walls. One wherein all six of them were dressed as the colorful superheroes (sans masks). Blue, Green, Orange, Pink, White, Yellow. Every time I looked at my roommate in that picture, I had to grin. There was just something so oxymoronic, so paradoxical about how a person whose skin was adorned with more colors than a rainbow was nicknamed Gray and dressed as the White Ranger.

The Dragons would be in utter disarray if a man of his seniority was eliminated. The mere thought makes my pulse thrum as I stand on the lounge floor in the sleek uniform. A tight, pressed, white button-up shirt, a black vest, and dark trousers. I’m strapped and armed in all the right places, a thin blade hidden in my sleeve and a silenced compact tucked into the small of my back.

And why the hell does he have to look like that? Zane isn’t dressed for training the way the rest of the pack is. No loose tank. No standard issue gear. He’s wearing fitted black combat pants that sit low on his hips, clinging to thick thighs like they were designed specifically to remind women why self-control is a myth. And that outline of his package… holy hell. I’m fucking salivating. I swear my beast is purring in my head. A dark long-sleeve compression shirt moulds to his torso, stretched tight over his broad shoulders and chest. The pack sigil is stamped over his heart.

He moved with the cold, economic efficiency of a veteran tactician preparing for a siege, his mind already mapping every choke point, blind spot, and natural barrier along the winding mountain ascent. Across the room, Nora was methodically packing a durable leather kit with medical supplies, heavy-duty cable ties, and rations, before securing a hunting crossbow across her back. She wore reinforced canvas trousers and a dark wool coat, her hair braided tightly back away from her face. She looked less like a former school teacher from the lowlands and more like an unyielding mountain ranger who had spent a lifetime defending her borders.

Matteo Rinaldi’s POV Conti Mansion. The sky was beginning to darken, streaks of gold bleeding into the horizon as evening settled in. I stood fully dressed in black, every piece of gear fitted with precision. A tactical shirt clung to my frame, paired with fitted pants and combat boots. Over it, a black jacket completed the look. I adjusted my gloves slowly, my movements deliberate. Night vision goggles rested securely in place. A silenced pistol sat holstered at my side, and a utility knife was strapped within easy reach.

The recipient said, voice loud and clear. "Good." I ended the call, dropped the phone on the table. I took a quick shower and got dressed in my all black regalia. Black pants, shirt and jacket, contrasting my skin. I fixed the last button on my shirt before adding a black leather jacket. I put on the light and checked myself in the mirror and I looked ready. Soon I was at the back of my sleek black Ranger Rover which Alex had prepared for where we were headed. He slid next to me with an iPad, typed in a few things and handed it to me.