Renegade Rupture (47 page)

“Sure you don’t want to come?” Nora asked.

“You know how I get about . . . that place,” Falcon said.

“Fine, fine, I,” Nora started when suddenly, Falcon moved in and kissed his wife deeply. Nora sighed with pleasure and swooned back, feeling weak in her knees as she threw her arms around Falcon just to keep from falling. When he pulled away, she had an exasperated smile on her warm, red face.

“And what, my dear sir, was that for?” Nora asked.

“It was overdue,” Falcon said. “Are you complaining?”

“No, as long as it leads somewhere . . .” Nora looked down at Gisbo who looked up at both of them confused. “ . . . later.”

Falcon bent down and gave Gisbo a hug goodbye.

“Look after your mom for me, would ya killer?” Falcon asked. Gisbo did a mixed up Renegade salute, then stood, confused, looking at his fingers. Falcon ruffled his hair.

“You’ll get it eventually.” Falcon said. “Bye, hun, love ya,”

“Love you too,” Nora said. “What do you want for dinner tonight?”

“Just get the steaks and I’ll take care of the rest,” Falcon said, smiling.

“Damn right you will! Bye honey, see you tonight.” Nora said as they unknowingly embraced in their last hug, and their last kiss.

Together, mother and son watched him leave.

“So, what are these flowers for?” Gisbo asked. Nora smiled.

“For a friend,” Nora said as she and Gisbo walked through Heaven’s Shelters Marketplace. She then studied her son’s face closely.

“Honey? What happened to your eye?” Nora asked. Gisbo rubbed at it.

“It’s nothing.” Gisbo said. Nora stopped her son, grabbing him by the hand and pulled him close.

“No, it’s not nothing, seems you have a black eye coming on,” Nora said. “Who did that to you?”

“Some jerks playing hockey. They asked me my name, then they laughed and,” Gisbo started, doing his best not to show tears, he sucked it up.

“And they hit you?” Nora asked. Gisbo nodded, then as if remembering something, suddenly boke into a grin.

“Dad says that if they do that again I can chase them down and punch ‘em right in the nose!” Gisbo said, suddenly clambering his mouth shut. Nora smiled.

“Let me guess, your father told you not to say that,” Nora asked. Gisbo paused, wondering if he should answer it.

“Well, better get some disinfectant, but, first . . .” Nora said, suddenly spying a certain shop. “ . . . why don’t we go over here,”

“How come?” Gisbo asked.

“It’s a surprise,” Nora said. As they walked, they suddenly walked by a large shop with a colorful sign on the outside called, “Double Midnight Books and Comics.”

“The comic store? Wow! Dad, he was telling me all about this place! Can I, can I go in?” Gisbo asked, eyes ablazed with excitement.

“Of course you can honey, that’s why we are here,” Nora said. Together they waled in and immediately, Gisbo ran to a certain cover that caught his eye. On the cover was a man in skin tight, gleaming crimson and gold armor with flowing golden brown hair and golden, glowing wings shooting out of his back and heels as he flew like a bird in-between two massive structures covered with windows.

“I’ve . . . I’ve seen this guy on Dad’s shelf back home,” Gisbo said.

“He’s your Dad’s favorite,” Nora said.

“Man-Angel . . .” Gisbo said, holding the thin colored booklet closely, marveling at the artwork. “Can I get this one?”

“Only if you get one for your Dad too,” Nora said.

Gisbo smiled and grabbed a copy for his dad.

“Mom,” Gisbo asked.

“Those boys, who hit me, they called me a nerd. What’s a nerd?” Gisbo asked.

“Well, it’s somebody who reads a lot I guess,” Nora said.

“What’s wrong with that?” Gisbo asked.

“Nothing dear, nothing at all. You see, reading is very important. There, in that book, is somebody’s heart and soul.” Nora said.

“Really?” Gisbo asked.

“Really, and it’s your job to take what you can and apply it to your life,” Nora said. “Everyone’s life is a story. You have a story to tell. The question is, how do you want it to end? What do you want to be remembered for?”

Nora never expected her son to answer, but out came something that caused her eyes to water up.

“I want to be just like, Dad. I want to be strong, and I want, I want to protect other nerds, like me,” Gisbo said.

“Then what?” Nora asked.

“Then, marry a girl as pretty as you,” Gisbo said. At this Nora burst into laughter.

“You’re a good boy, Gisbo. Come on, let’s go for a walk. It’s time I introduce you to my friend,” Nora said, and hand in hand, mother and son walked into the wintery forests of the Soarian mountain range.

The memory faded.

“Mom . . .” Gisbo said, smiling, tears in his eyes. There was a knock on the door. Gisbo had time to wipe the tears out of his eyes before someone’s face peeked in.

“It’s time, Gisbo,” Perry said.

“Has he come yet?” Gisbo asked.

“No, Jackobi has not shown himself,” Perry said.

“If he hasn’t arrived by now, he’s not going to. Fighting in a ring in front of people was never his style. He has a vendetta, his own battle to fight. We’ll need someone else, and I know you big shots have the final say, but might I make a suggestion? Someone to fight by my side?” Gisbo asked.

“Of course, Gisbo. If anything, you should have the final say. You will need to work together. Do you wish me to summon Rolce?” Perry asked. Gisbo shook his head.

“No, I’d like to bring my Dad,” Gisbo said. Perry shook his head.

“It cannot be done. He is the head of our strike force. He’s too important to expose in the arena,” Perry said.

“But I’m not, is that what you’re saying?” Gisbo asked.

“Not at all. His generation, our generation, is passed. It’s time for a new generation of Renegade to take up the sword,” Perry said.

“I’m going in that ring to kill. Rolce is no killer. He will be needed to protect, outside the ring. I need someone else . . .” Gisbo said.

Thunder sounded around them as the two young Renegades followed Perry down the hallway. Gisbo expected to walk out into an arena covered with dark, ominous clouds and lightning bolts, but he was met with a bright, shining sun, unusual for such a late autumn day. The thunder he had heard was not thunder at all, but the roar of the crowd. Everyone was in attendance. Everyone had their eyes on him and his teammate.

“You ready?” Gisbo asked.

“To do what we must? Of course,” Rake Lokin replied. Gisbo smiled and smacked him on the back.

“Must you do that?” Rake asked.

“Sorry, hey, I was thinking. We could go out there and die and you’ll never get a chance to repay me for punching you. Why not do it now?” Gisbo said.

“The time still isn’t right,” Rake said.

“You mean . . .” Gisbo started.

“Believe me, when the time is right, your nose will know before you do,” Rake said.

“Rake, you’re a scary dude,” Gisbo said. “You ready?”

“Always, and Gisbo?” Rake said.

“Yeah?” Gisbo asked.

“Thank you for being my friend, and just being you,” Rake said.

Gisbo smiled and smacked him on the shoulder.

“Must you do that?” Rake asked again.

“Sorry,” Gisbo said.

“Let’s go, it’s time,” Perry said as he led Rake and Gisbo up to the center of the arena where Narroway stood with two cloaked fighters.

“If Chieftain Lamik doesn’t arrive soon to agree to the nature of this match, your team will forfeit. I hope you realize this,” Narroway said to the cloaked Strifes, folding his arms.

“That won’t be necessary,” a Strife said. The two men revealed themselves as none other than Lamik Strife, along with his son, Malik Strife.

“It is . . .” Narroway started.

“It is my right, my privilege, to be in this match. If I broke the rules, I’d be dead, wouldn’t I?” Lamik asked. Narroway stood silently.

“Renegades, remove your cloaks,” Narroway said. Gisbo and Rake both disrobed and immediately, Gisbo thrust out a finger and pointed it at Chieftain Lamik.

“Assface Senior . . .” Gisbo muttered, moving his finger over to Malik. “Assface Junior . . .”

Malik said nothing, had no flashy comeback. His eyes only searched the arena, trying unsuccessfully to find someone. Lamik cocked a stern glance down at his son.

“Focus. Forget about her; she’s gone,” Lamik said.

“Trouble in paradise?” Gisbo asked, and again, Malik lowered his head. Gisbo didn’t like it at all. Did he and Nina have a fight? He scanned the audience as well, and she was nowhere in sight. He had a sinking feeling he couldn’t shake. He was not prepared for this version of Malik.

“This is a no-holds barred, all out match. Anything goes, except stepping out of the ring. Full attributes and weapons are allowed, along with your Boons. Understood? Renegades, to your lines, Strifes, to your lines,” Narroway said.

At that same moment, a blond girl with the ability to fly soared up to the tallest mountain peak, far above Heaven’s Shelter. The cold air bit at her fair skin. Her hair, longer than a year ago, flowed and whipped about in the cold air, coming apart at the seams, leaving bald spots.

It was happening again, for reasons unbeknownst to her. Her hair was falling out.

Snow began to fall, sprinkling all about her feet and covering the ground as she walked to the highest crest of the mountainside. She shivered, both from the cold and from her nerves, feeling the icy wind bite at the bald spots.

The girl had no one. No mother, no father, no one. All she had now were scars on her hands and a broken heart. She had never met her father, but she knew all about him. A prisoner in the darkest depths of Glaknabrade. She was evil’s seed and her mind was now crazed beyond belief from thoughts of a boy, of a future of them together, happy, with a daughter and a son. He looked so much like the dad. She sniffled and felt tears well up in the corners of her eyes. She thought of the other boy, the one that reminded her so much of her destined love. She had ruined it, ruined everything, by not waiting for him. She had instead fell for the boy who reminded her so much of him, his dark reflection.

And yet, who could she talk to? No one tried to befriend her. All she had was him, and he shunned her and now, he gave his love, his kisses, to another far more beautiful, far more kind than she. This only added to her pain, added more cracks to her already broken heart. And now, even the other boy, the boy in the mirror, had abandoned her too.

The memories, the visions of happiness had to stop, but above all else, she had to kill the hope. The misery was real, but the hope brought her the real pain.

The girl who could fly stepped up to the crest of the mountainside, looking at the snowflakes as they hit her warm skin and melted down her arm, dying, and changing. That’s all life was: falling snowflakes, all different, some falling further than others, but all with the same fate . . .

Peace was all she wanted now. The girl who could fly looked down only to see a void of swirling whiteness, a blanket of everlasting peace beckoning her. On the swirling wind, she heard a distant, muffled cheer, and she heard his name rise above the wind, causing her to shake.

“Gisbo! Gisbo! Gisbo!” the crowd cheered.

“I love you, Gisbo. I always have, I always will, and I’ll never know why . . . Goodbye,” Nina said.

And with that, the girl who could fly let herself fall into the swirling white void.

A snowflake gone, lost like many, well before their time.

Elsewhere, in the deepest parts of Heaven’s Shelter’s forest, so deep the tallest tree branches interlocked, strangling each other and shutting out all light, the bloodiest battle of the Renegade-Strife war took place more than a decade ago. It was said that there was so much death, so much blood, that nature itself was affected. The plants soaked up the essence charged fluids of the most powerful warriors on the planet and they grew out of control, leaving this place full of unnatural, twisted life, and darkness known forever as The Macaba Obaroso, a Naforian word that meant, “Wailing Death.”

When the wind passed through the spaces of the tightly interlocked tree branches, it let out a ghostly, horrifying, cry.

A lone Renegade and Strife stood across from one another, well away from the cheers and cries from the stadium. Their battle would have no witnesses, no cheering, no pats on the back. This was a battle of continuation, for the future. Only one would continue the legacy of the Fox of Blades, whose spirit Jackobi felt around this place even now. He was sure that Grayn felt it as well.

Words were unnecessary; they were meaningless. Only action spoke true in the world of the Shininja, of the assassin. To them, a fist clenched around a dagger spoke louder and longer than a thousand words.

In a burst of yellow, Grayn ignited his essence and Jackobi did the same. Jackobi looked upon Grayn’s face and long, perfectly smooth, white hair. In another life, another time, they could have been brothers. This thought didn’t linger long. Jackobi’s whole life was cold, hard, emotionless reasoning, but no longer. He did what his father could never do . . . He unleashed his anger, rage, frustration, and he controlled them as precisely as any dagger.