Renegade Rupture (14 page)

“Now, when I say go, we fly at each other and push each other out of the ring,” Groggo said. “Oh, wait! I forgot something! Before we start, you need to learn the rituals of this esteemed art, for you see, even now, within this very ring, evil spirits could be floating about.”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t there be?” Gisbo muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Together, Gisbo, we must purify the ring and stamp them buggers out!” Groggo said. “Do what I do. Lift up one leg, like this, while still in your, um . . .”

“Taking a dump position?” Gisbo asked.

“Right! While in that position, lift up your right leg and stamp it down upon the ground with me,” Groggo said.

“Fine,” Gisbo said.

“Ready?” Groggo asked.

“Ready,” Gisbo said, and together, they lifted up their right feet, extend their legs, and slammed them down together onto the floor.

“Good! Now the other side! Them evil spirits are here, they’re wounded, but not yet gone. Come on, Giz, let’s push ‘em out! Up, hrg!” Groggo started to lift his left leg and let out a massive fart, causing the onlookers to fall off the bench and roll upon the floor with laughter. Gisbo, however, wasn’t laughing.

“Groggo! Damn it, that’s terrible!” Gisbo said, throwing his poncho up over his nose.

“Those spirits are gone now for sure!” Shaved joked, causing them all to burst into more laughter.

“Sorry there, Gizzy, that be my wind breaking leg. Every time I raise it, well, who knows!?” Groggo said.

“All right, fine, whatever, I think we can all agree that any . . . spirits, are disintegrated now. Can we please get this over with?” Gisbo asked.

“Right o’! All right, fists down, here we go,” Groggo said.

Gisbo got into position, fists down, along with Groggo.

“Tubby!” Groggo yelled.

“What?” Grandfield asked. “Wait, you mean me?”

“You answered, didn’t you?” Groggo asked. “You give the go.”

“Damn it, gets me every time . . .” Grandfield said as he made his way closer to the ring.

“Fighter in the east corner, are you ready?” Grandfield asked. “Ahem, that’s you, Gisbo.”

“There’s no corner. We’re in a circle, dummy,” Gisbo sighed.

“You know what I meant!” Grandfield snapped. “Just say, ‘ready!’”

“Ready,” Gisbo sighed.

“Fighter in the west corner, ready?” Grandfield asked.

“READY!” Groggo bellowed.

“BEGIN!” Grandfield yelled.

Gisbo, in no way, was ready for what happened next. With a blood chilling scream, Groggo charged at Gisbo like a raging bull, head first. Bravely enough, Gisbo met him head on, only to take a palm under his chin in a fierce strike. His vision snapped into white light before he took a stab in his stomach. Groggo’s massive body caught up to Gisbo and hit him, causing Gisbo to soar out of bounds until a spruce tree stopped his momentum.

“Ughhh . . .” Gisbo moaned, his legs up in the air. Groggo stood at the inside edge of the circle and smacked his hands together.

“And that, ladies, is how a sumo match looks. Now, who’s next?” Groggo asked.

All the boys looked at one another, none of them thinking it was funny anymore.

The boys prepared for five days and tried out like most of the rest of Heaven’s Shelter. Before long, the Renegade Council, composed of Shax, Narroway, Perry, and Honj, decided on the final team. In no specific order, Narroway posted the list of the four Renegade representatives.

Grandfield, Roarie, Groggo, and Rolce.

“Narroway? What in the blue hell and heavens am I doing on this list? Roarie asked, storming up through the crowd.

“You tried out, didn’t you?” Narroway asked.

“Yeah! But I never expected to actually place! Is this a sexist thing? You need a woman on your team? Is that it? Then go and get a fat pig! Look at me,” Roarie said, gesturing to her petite body.

“Roarie, you and I both know that Elekai’ Sumo is about handling power and executing it. Weight is just one advantage. You are exactly what we need,” Narroway said.

“Hmph,” Roarie said. “There goes my weekend.”

“Now, those who were chosen, if you would, please follow me and our team captain, Perry, so you can begin the real training. You were all chosen for a reason, and you will all represent us honorably,” Narroway said. Gisbo took a deep breath.

“Thank, IAM! NOT IN!” Gisbo said.

“WHAT!?” Rolce stammered. “You! You jerk! You feigned a loss to me! You faked it! Get back here, Gisbo! I’m going to kill you! You should be in there, not me!”

“Hah! Later, buddy! See ya in the stands!” Gisbo yelled.

“Let him run, Rolce. We knew he was faking. I don’t think you understand what an honor this is. Believe me, once you are in the ring, fighting for the Renegades, you will feel it, and they will envy you,” Perry said, as he placed a hand on Rolce’s shoulder.

“Perry?” Rolce asked.

“Who else would be fit to coach our team?” Perry joked.

“Right,” Rolce said.

“Come, let’s get the team together. We have lots to discuss and lots to work on,” Perry said.

Night fell upon Heaven’s Shelter and many a warrior and citizen went to bed early on the cool, end of summer night. Narroway, after a long day with a lot of stress, opened the front door to his pond side cabin. He was ready to finally sink down into his arm-chair with a nice, cold beverage and finish the final chapter in the latest Man-Angel book. What he was not ready for was more stress. No sooner had he put one foot on his welcome mat did he hear a vicious scream coming from his son’s room.

“Ranto? RANTO!” Narroway yelled as he ran down the hall and tried his son’s doorknob. It was locked. Narroway backed up and kicked down his son’s door to find a host of carnage. Ranto sat on his bed, his face in his hands, surrounded by holes in the walls, tipped over furniture, a torn pillow with feathers everywhere, and torn magazine pages. One of those pages lay right at Narroway’s foot. It was a torn cover with the title
Big Dom Tom,
portraying a large, hairy chested man in a sexually explicit position with a much smaller, weaker man.

Without a word, Narroway paced about the room, picking up every explicit image and scattered page. Once gathered, he walked out onto the back porch and lit the pages. Once the images were disposed of, he walked inside and sat next to his son.

“I’m so sorry, father . . . dad, I, I couldn’t, I just couldn’t,” Ranto started. Narroway put a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Son, I’ve told you that have nothing to apologize for, nothing at all,” Narroway said. “If this is who you are, if this is what makes you happy, then I wholly and fully . . .”

“I’M NOT A FAG!” Ranto suddenly screamed, leaping off the bed.

“Son, relax.” Narroway raised his hands and spoke as slowly and calmly as possible.

“I’m not queer! Understand? I’m not! That, all that you burned outside, it shouldn’t be accepted, it’s wrong! Why did you burn it? See! You think it’s wrong too!” Ranto yelled.

“No, I just know that it’s a touchy subject with you. You will come out when you’re ready, on your terms. No one else should know about it until you’re ready. That’s why,” Narroway said.

“It’s damned wrong! I’m going to hell for that, all of it! And you come in here and embrace it? What is wrong with you?” Ranto asked.

“Son? Who is telling you such things? It certainly isn’t me! I’m embracing you, as my son, and what makes you happy. What you do in your spare time, in the comfort and privacy of your own home has,” Narroway started.

“THIS DOESN’T MAKE ME HAPPY! I’m not a fag! I’m a Renegade warrior! Strong, brave, vicious! The strongest there is! There’s nothing wrong with me! NOTHING!” Ranto screamed.

“Son, what, what is this about?” Narroway said.

“You, the Renegades. You all tolerate way too much! This, what I, what I desire, it’s evil!” Ranto said.

“Stop it! Stop that talk! There’s more to this, then,” Narroway stopped, trying to find the words.

“See! You can’t even say it! Can’t even look me in the eyes; you’re ashamed of me, that’s why,” Ranto started.

“SON! STOP!” Narroway bellowed. Ranto simmered down, and Narroway spoke again in a soft, understanding tone. “Now, tell me, talk to me. I’m your father. If you cannot talk to me, who can you talk to?”

“Why wasn’t I chosen?” Ranto asked. “Why wasn’t I chosen for the Elekai’ event?” Ranto asked calmly.

“Is that what this is about? Sit down, son,” Narroway asked calmly.

“Answer the question! Roarie? Grandfield? Over me? WHY!?” Ranto screamed.

“Just calm down and I’ll gladly tell you,” Narroway said.

“NO! You answer me straight! I’ve had it with you, always holding me back! That’s all you ever do! You hold things back, let things continue that should be snuffed away at the source! I should be in there!” Ranto said.

“Ranto, this isn’t just about not being chosen, this is just an excuse for,” Narroway started, looking around the broken room, “This.”

“STOP TALKING TO ME LIKE A CHILD!” Ranto screamed.

“Then stop acting like one!” Narroway said, rising to his feet to meet his son, who easily stood half a foot taller than him, and finally, Ranto sat down.

“Now, there is more to Elekai’ Sumo than power alone. It is controlled power, something that you have not mastered well enough for this entry. You are powerful, no doubt, one of the most powerful here in Heaven’s Shelter. That being said, you lack control, you lack precision and those skills come with self-control. Those skills are needed to win bouts! Does one with self-control do what you did to this bedroom?” Narroway asked.

Ranto sat there, saying nothing.

“No, they do not. Now, get some sleep, son. Three more events are coming up. I suggest you begin training for them. Ok? Get your mind off things. Now, I need some sleep. We’ll talk more on this later,” Narroway said. As he got up and began to leave the room, he turned around. “And be sure to fix these holes tomorrow, please. Find some peace, son, take your mind off of things. You used to be a wonderful artist. Why don’t you draw for a while?”

With that, Narroway left the room. With a curse, Ranto got up, paced about his room a few times, and saw the outline of a goat’s horns in the moonlight.

“I didn’t realize you were into literature of the . . . graphic variety,” the Goat Man said.

Ranto said nothing.

“Good, you are trying self-control, weighing the options. I know that nobody knows about this little . . . private lifestyle of yours, other than your father, and I assume you would like to keep it quiet. I can do that for you. I only want to help you. You don’t like what’s inside of you, do you? You don’t want these . . . urges, do you?” the Goat Man asked.

Ranto said nothing.

“You think the Renegades are to blame. You believe, since they tolerate such a lifestyle, it’s their fault that you are the way you are. Perhaps if you were raised as a Strife, who in no way, shape, or form accepts such a nature, things could be different? Well, I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong on both accounts. People who truly believe that being homosexual is a choice, truly believe that, because they themselves make the choice, every day, to not be themselves. No one knows why sexual preferences vary; there are only theories. As for you, oh, I know things, things about people who can bring great change to this world. I know exactly why you are the way you are, why utter domination, in every form, is what you crave, and I can give you these answers, but first, I need you to do something for me,” the Goat Man said.

“Or?” Ranto asked.

“There is no ‘or.’ Only what will happen should you disobey me. Now, here’s what needs to be done,” the Goat Man said.

Chapter Ten:
The Water Event

“Look at this place! Did they build it overnight?” Gisbo asked, marveling at the gigantic oval stadium that now occupied the entire Courtyard of Strength.

“Never underestimate Renegade ingenuity,” Shaved said. “And it was more like a few hours, not overnight. I still got a full eight hours of sleep.”

“Amazing,” Gisbo said.

“Ok, if you’re all done giving the new stadium an O-Face, let’s get in there and grab some good seats!” Knob said as he ran into the gaping entryway, leading a charge that nobody followed.

“Natural leader, that one,” Kennis said.

“He’s right though; we better get some good seats! A place where Grandfield and Rolce can see us,” Anaka said. Grabbing Shaved’s arm, they rushed behind Knob. “Come on, you guys!”

“You never told me I’d be, what do they call it, the third wheel?” Jackobi asked, his arms folded, suddenly appearing beside Gisbo and Kennis.

“Oh, come on, tall, dark and gloomy. It’s good to get you out of the tree house,” Kennis said as she ran after Shaved and Anaka. “I’ll sit next to Anaka if it will make you feel better. You can have Gisbo all to yourself!”

“That’s, that’s not exactly what I meant,” Jackobi said.

“Hah, tall, dark, and gloomy,” Gisbo said. Jackobi snapped a cold stare.