Dean Zordon of Eltar

*a brief crackle of static, then a tinny mechanical voice*

Ay-yi-yi-yi-yi! So much paperwork! So much to do! How am I ever going to -- ay-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi!

Oh! Where was I? Oh yes! Rangers! I mean, students! This is Alpha 5, Dean Zordon's ever-helpful assistant. If you wish to set up an appointment to see Zordon, please register here with me. Thank you!

You have reached the voicemail for Dean Zordon. Obviously it is not the case that I am not home to answer your call, as I'm stuck in this tube and therefore here all the time. I simply have other, more pressing matters to deal with at the moment.

If you wish to leave me a message, please do so here. If you are a teenager with attitude trying to get out of trouble, don't bother. I've likely seen your antics on the Viewing Globe already.

To: veronica.mars@fandomhigh.edu, angel@fandomhigh.edu
From: zordon@fandomhigh.edu
Subject: Alumni Affairs

With the graduation of our first senior class, some form of alumni affairs organization is in order. After all, we need to know what shenanigans you all have been up to, so that we can revise the copy in the school brochures to compensate.

Extensive review of your student files, the video feeds, and the radio logs leads me to believe that the two of you are best qualified for the job. Angel, your experience on Student Council and the fact that you look good in a swimsuit will serve you well in this capacity; Veronica, we may need you to track down alumni that go missing. In addition, both of you appear to have the best network of interpersonal connections among both current students and new alumni, and so would be our best liaisons between the two groups.

Good luck, and congratulations,
Zordon of Eltar, Dean of Students

P.S.: Veronica, feel free to headtilt at alumni if necessary to keep them in line.

P.P.S.: You may want to give some thought to an alumni newsletter of sorts. Just don't let Chloe Sullivan run it. She has been a fine student and an exemplary journalist, and did an admirable job with the school paper this past year, but I'm afraid she might take over the world.

If anyone, weetiny or not (and in the former case, that would be grounds for a good "way past your bedtime" scolding), were to be in the first-floor hallway of the faculty office wing at this hour, they might hear a voice that managed to tremble despite being electronic as it repeated a phrase over and over again.

"Can't power down, children will eat me. Can't power down, children will eat me. Ay-yi-yi-yi-yi!"

Poor Alpha 5. Five weetiny Rangers had been bad enough. An entire schoolful of weetiny students was just too much for his little droid processors to handle.

With all due credit to emo_padawan for the idea -- since everybody has such cute freaking wee!icons, consider this your one-stop OOC shop to squee over people's OMGADORABLE kiddie icons so we're not doing it all over the place in IC threads.

No OCD threads, and comment notifications are off. Squee away!

After a long night of playing through the entirety of Gauntlet (arcade-style, yo), Zordon is going through the video feeds, and what he's finding definitely qualifies as highly, highly disturbing.

Something is very wrong here.

As all the feeds continue to show him the same thing -- teenagers reverted to small children -- Zordon feels a sinking sensation in the stomach he hasn't had for thousands of years. He's seen this before.

"Alpha! Contact Master Vile on the Viewing Globe immediately!"

The little red robot looks up at Zordon and flails in a shiny way. "Ay-yi-yi! Zordon, but whyyyyyyyy?"

"Observe the Viewing Globe, Alpha," Zordon tells him sternly. "Tell me you remember the last time this happened."

"Ay-yi-yi-yi-yi!" Alpha wails, flailing even harder. "The students! Zordon, you don't think this is Master Vile's doing again, do you?"

The head in the tube bobs from side to side. "I hope not, Alpha. I'd really like to forget that entire Alien Rangers storyline ever happened. But it can't hurt to make sure."

Unfortunately, all their attempts to contact Master Vile meet up with an intergalactic busy signal, and Alpha 5 shakes his head sadly. "No luck, Zordon. I think he's online."

Zordon sighs. "Ancient evil warlord, and he's still on dialup . . ."

[OOC: For your ring-around-the-rosy evilling. I may be AFK on and off for the next couple of hours.]

There hasn't been a team of underwater Power Rangers yet (unless you count the Aquitian Rangers, and Zordon's trying to forget them because they TOOK BILLY AWAY OMGWTF), but, Zordon thinks as he looks around at the rather submerged Command Center, at this rate there might as well be.

The systems are up and running just enough for him to open the Command Center doors; a small tidal wave of water, melted Jell-O and creamed corn goes splooshing out into the hallway.

The Dean is video-game-less, soggy, and in. If you dare.

The Command Center doors are open, and (because it goes without saying) Zordon is in. He's not making any calls on the Viewing Globe today, though -- at least, not yet. He refuses to show his face in the Globe until Alpha 5 is busy scrubbing off the red wax scribbles that are all over the outside of his stasis tube.

Because he's not going to give Zedd, Gruum, or anyone the satisfaction of seeing him with "LOTHOR 0WNZ J00" emblazoned across his forehead.

The Command Center doors are open, and Zordon is in. One could attribute it to force of habit, although it's debatable whether "force of habit" applies when there's no choice in the matter. He appears to have Photoshop open on the Viewing Globe and is quite engrossed in a series of elaborate defacements of the Duke Blue Devils team mascot.

In the background, Alpha 5 can be heard chattering away to DECA on another channel in some sort of earpiercing computer dialect. It's almost a sure bet they're worrying about that basketball pool.

The Command Center doors are open, and Zordon appears less agitated than usual today. Well. If he ever actually appeared agitated. Suffice to say that he is less agitated today, appearances or lack thereof notwithstanding. His group has finally gotten its act together and so far it looks like they're going to fare better than their rivals in the basketball pool.

Now it's just a matter of arranging some sort of virtual game-watching party.

"Yes," he's telling the person in the Viewing Globe, "that's the plan -- what do you mean, RootCorps has a better home entertainment setup than I do?"

The Command Center doors are open, Zordon is in, and as usual for the past couple of weeks he's up to his metaphorical (because he has no other kind) neck -- up to the top of his tube? -- in betting pool strategies for the Big Dance.

"All right, all right, I won't doubt Divatox any more. I didn't expect the Huskies to lose . . . yes, Princess Shayla, you've made your point already, thank you, but can I just remind you that Captain Logan swore the UConn women's team would never recover from that first-half deficit against Georgia? Frax and Trakeena were not happy about that . . ."

Yes, March Madness is still going strong in the Command Center when Zordon opens the doors today. There's even some trash-talking going on, if anyone happens to pass by and overhear.

"Oh, you think so, do you, Gruum? No one is winning that pool except my group. Your chief strategist wishes she was a little girl, and you can't possibly think Baboo and Squatt have a clue, can you? . . . What? Please. Elsa's just bitter she didn't get my job. Tell her she shouldn't be. And we're going to whip your . . ." A string of words ensues that would make Archie Kennedy blush if he knew Eltarean obscenities and were in the vicinity. Which he isn't. "No, I have nothing more to say to you, if all you can muster is cheap taunts, Gruum. Goodbye."

The call cuts off, and Zordon places another one. "Boom? I need to talk to Doctor Manx immediately . . . what? Boom, no, don't give Alpha any new ideas! Bad enough he's been talking to Hayley and Cam, and I honestly think DECA has a virus, and Billy is on drugs these days . . ."

The Command Center doors are open, and Zordon is, of course, within. Passers-by might note the echoing sounds of a basketball being dribbled irregularly by Alpha 5, with the occasional interjection of "He shoots, he scores!"

During third period, the Viewing Globe is tuned to the feed from the Creature Languages classroom, and Zordon appears to be watching it quite intently. Otherwise, from the sound of it, he's having yet another lively basketball discussion with various people via the Globe.

"Yes, Dimitria, I know your sister's predictions have been . . . unorthodox, and Anubis seems to think she's mostly right, with the notable exception of that Villanova pick. Ransik, on the other hand, tends to side with me and Udonna . . . what do you mean, Hayley thinks we're all crazy? Now, listen -- we have to get a finalized set of picks for the last two rounds in. I am not letting Queen Bansheera win this pool. I'll never hear the end of it from Zedd and Rita . . ."

Well, of course Zordon is in. And the Command Center doors are open, so he can do that office hours thing.

There's Carbon Leaf playing in the background as Zordon puzzles over the NCAA Division I basketball tournament brackets for both the men's and women's teams. He also appears to be having a heated discussion with someone over the Viewing Globe.

"Boston College over Villanova? You have to be insane, Divatox -- no, you thought Iona would beat LSU in the first round! . . . what? No, don't take DECA's predictions at face value. I don't trust his algorithms . . ."

The Command Center doors are propped open, and Zordon is observing the Viewing Globe. No video games today, though; he appears to be watching the feed of a certain robed student's return to campus.

Anyone passing by might swear he's actually smiling.

[OOC: ZOMG, WELCOME BACK, BARJOSHAKIN!]

Zordon has just gotten a hold of the Sims 2 university expansion pack and is recreating the Fandom High dorm and its population on the Viewing Globe while Alpha 5 facepalms in the background. The Command Center doors are open, but if anybody happens to so much as walk by the display on the Viewing Globe immediately switches to a game of Spider Solitaire. Hiding what you're actually doing is much easier when you can mentally, instantaneously hit Alt+Tab, and if he's really honest here, what he's doing is kind of creeptastic.

Even if the little Sim students are already resembling their actual counterparts to a frightening degree without Alpha 5 having to hack the game. Hey, Zordon didn't tell them to blow up the second floor common room.

[OOC: Why yes, this was inspired by my actual Sims game. I had Free Will switched on, and Sim!Cally tried to make Pop Tarts, and the toaster oven blew up and burned down the kitchen. I swear to god. And Sim!Anders will not stop making pancakes. Fear my FH-Sim neighborhood once it is complete. Yes. Fear. I know I certainly do.]

The Command Center is open, and lit in very bright neon green today. Zordon's tube might also be glowing a little more green than usual. Not that it matters particularly much since he can't exactly get pinched.

Alpha 5 is scurrying drunkenly around wearing a bright green leprechaun hat and carrying what appears to be an empty pint glass; he appears to have taken control of the Command Center's sound system today, as the speakers are blasting a mixture of Celtic music that contains anything from the Chieftains, the Dubliners, Planxty, and Tommy Makem to the Young Dubliners, the Dropkick Murphys, Great Big Sea, Gaelic Storm, and Spirit of the West.

Sing to me, o Muse, of Zordon of Eltar, he of no body
Residing in a great glowing cylinder, unmoving, unmovable,
The enigmatic and bodiless being known to Fandom as the Dean of Students.
Speak of the myriad electronic games
With which he passes the interminable hours,
The Command Center doors open and he waiting within, oracle-like,
For any students who wish to stop and partake of the wisdom
Acquired over twelve thousands of years, or for those less fortunate
Who have under his ever-watchful gaze committed acts worthy of punishment
For which they shall henceforth receive a summons.

Speak, o Muse, on the Ides of March, of how the Dean is in.

[OOC: I meant to do this yesterday to (affectionately) spite you haiku people. But I didn't have the time. *g*]

Zordon is in the Command Center. Because he can't help it. The doors are propped open, and Alpha 5 is wandering around doing robot-assistant-y things while Zordon restrains himself from mentioning that Alpha really looks silly in that replica Beefeater hat.

He is currently reading up on the history and exploits of the Ninja Storm Rangers and can't help feeling a little bit smug, because seriously, when it comes to mentors, he thinks he's cooler than a human who's been transformed into a guinea pig. He's also singing monotonously to himself, and anyone wandering by might hear something about all being fine on Kinakeet Island.

Zordon props open the Command Center doors just in case anyone needs anything on this spring break morning. He appears to be Google-searching a place called Briarwood and occasionally taking breaks to get in a level or two on Revenge of Shinobi.