One shot. A glimpse inside the mind of the evil Green Ranger. I do not own any rights to these characters; Saban does. I'm merely playing with them, acting out a snippet of prose. Enjoy!
Control
He was dimly aware of the burn radiating from his fingers and the ache in his muscles but he didn't care. Only one thing mattered above all else: Control. He had to time it just right or risk losing his precious doll.
Right now, the doll was trying desperately to breathe, struggling violently against the restraints; this only served to bruise and tear the flesh of its wrists and ankles. Panicked, dark brown eyes gazed into the Green Ranger's black visor. The lips parted in a silent plea that didn't reach his dark heart in the least.
Slowly, the white gloved hands loosened, allowing heaving, pained gasps to be heard. The doll's head lolled limply backward as it drew oxygen into its air hungry lungs. The Green Ranger watched this dismissively. He knew the doll would live; after all, he'd supplied his own clock just to make sure he didn't exceed the time limit.
Tommy waited patiently for the heaving to ease, before he seized the dark brown hair and forced the doll to look at him. Red pinpoints decorated the pale skin around his plaything's eyes; the eyes themselves were now bloodshot.
"Say it," he coldly ordered.
The doll remained silent, instead jerking its head out of the Green Ranger's grip in a burst of defiance. Rage threatened to boil over, but the Green Ranger quickly restrained himself. It still wants to fight, how futile. He chuckled darkly.
"That's alright, cupcake. I know exactly how to break you down. And honestly," he leaned into the red, swollen face, "the fight is most of the fun."
Straightening, he stared at his living doll; living for now anyways. Tommy could rip its life away whenever the fancy took him. But first he wanted it to follow the script and this disobedience was to be punished.
He strode over to the splintered wooden table where he kept his other "toys." Each instrument was meticulously organized just the way he wanted it, lined up neatly and ready for use. Absently, he suddenly began to carefully align each blade and blunt instrument, counting them softly as he did so.
When he reached the edge of the table, the evil Ranger picked up the battle damaged red helmet resting there.
"All the good this did, huh?" He dropped it to the hard concrete floor.
No response but a stubborn glare. Shrugging, the Green Ranger picked up the tire iron and casually twirled it to and fro, testing its heft.
Good thing the doll wouldn't be needing to walk anytime soon, he grinned under his helmet.