Renegade Rupture (28 page)

Falcon sighed and placed a hand on Narroway’s shoulder.

“My dear brother-in-law, you know I have the utmost respect for you, and I know you have the best of intentions, but clearly you know nothing of my son.”

“And you know nothing of mine,” Narroway said.

“Oh, we men and our silly pride. It not only extends through us, but our bloodline. We both know it, we both feel it. We’re fighters, and each of us, deep down, wants to see the boys go at it. We can’t help ourselves. It’d be wrong, wouldn’t it? As fathers, we want to let our sons become men and settle their own affairs. It’s too bad we’ll never get to see them fight,” Falcon said. “Well, I’ll be seeing you, Narroway.”

Narroway watched him go, said nothing, but thought a whole lot.

Training with the team was not what Gisbo had planned. Not once did he show up for practice. Fighting was like breathing to him. He had no doubt that Ranto would reveal himself at the tournament. A fighter like him lived for such moments, for the chance to display his natural talent. It’s what fighters did, and Gisbo waited for his chance to meet him head on. Although he found he could hide from most, even while training he couldn’t be away from his Kennis. She was with him through his final days of preparation and looked worried beyond belief with each passing hour. It got to the point where she was silent and pale, and Gisbo’s focus was broken.

“What’s the matter?” Gisbo asked, as he took one last, good, heavy right hook to the pad wrapped around an oak. Kennis sat on the picnic table, twirling her hair with a finger, a nervous habit.

“You want to fight him, don’t you?” Kennis said.

“Fight who?” Gisbo asked, turning away from her and hitting the tree once more.

“You know who. Ranto. I know all about your rivalry. Heck, all of Heaven’s Shelter knows about it, but if what you told me was true, he is your family. Are you really willing to kill your own family member?” Kennis asked.

“That’s what you’re so worried about? I’ve thought long and hard about it. Family is what I have here, within Heaven’s Shelter. You should know that as well. Both of us, Kennis, have lost our mothers, and now, just because we share some relatives, I’m supposed to go easy on someone who joined the other side? Who threatens our home, our way of life, and all we love? I say screw that,” Gisbo said with a leaping roundhouse kick.

Kennis was silent for a moment, and then she spoke three words that he would never forget.

“You won’t win,” Kennis said. Gisbo halted his attack on the tree, stunned, and spun around to her worried face.

“What did you say?” Gisbo asked.

“You wouldn’t listen to reason, so I need to be blunt. You don’t understand what you’re going up against. If you fight him, you’ll… I don’t even want to say the word. You’re strong, brave, but Ranto, he’s . . . you don’t understand. He’s a force of nature; you just don’t get it,” Kennis said.

“And you do?” Gisbo snapped.

“Yes, I do. I’ve seen what he can do, firsthand, and it was terrifying,” Kennis said. Gisbo looked at her, curious. “You’ve been training like mad, and I thought at first it was because you wanted to protect our home, but when I saw your eyes . . . They’re full of only hate, and then I heard the news that Ranto defected, and it all made sense.”

She paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “As soon as I figured it all out, why you’ve been training so hard . . . I can’t sleep, I can’t even think right, all I can think of is what I saw that monster do, and all I can picture is him doing it to you . . .” Kennis said as she folded her hands, trying to hide their trembling, and fought back tears.

“You obviously know something I don’t. What exactly did you see?” Gisbo asked, reliving the memory the Drakeness showed him, of Ranto killing Niffin’s dog.

“Have you ever wondered why you’ve never seen Ranto with his synergy members?” Kennis asked. “When we first arrived, Ranto was on the front of every red-blooded girl’s brain. He was tall, ridiculously muscular, and so handsome with those dreamy blue eyes. I admit, I had an awful crush on him, along with Kinny. We’d follow him around, watch him from a distance, write him love notes, you know, middle-school girl stuff.”

Gisbo rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“One day, we saw him training by his then tree house with his synergy mates. We watched him. At first, they took turns, fighting one another, sparring, first with no essence, then full essence. Kinny and I were entranced. We’d never seen a full on Elekai’ fight before, and Ranto was brilliant. He trounced his synergy mates without any effort. Then he suggested that they both come at him at once, and his teammates declined. Out of nowhere, his whole demeanor changed. It was like he had a whole new face, a whole new voice,” Kennis said.

Gisbo’s mind flashed to the memory of Ranto attacking him and Rolce out of nowhere, in the woods on their way to class after his defeat against his cousin, Phil.

“Even his synergy mates seemed terrified of him. They started to back up, raising their hands, trying to calm him down, but they only made him more upset. He, he charged at him, with just his bare fists, and fought them, hit them, and kept hitting and hitting. I wanted to look away, but I just couldn’t. I saw him pin one of his friends to the ground, I saw his fist raise. It was huge, like a hammer, and, and he just kept bringing it down on his face, over and over again. I actually heard the boy’s face break open, I saw, stuff fly up out of it, and . . . then he did the same thing to the other boy. It was . . .” Kennis started and tears fell from her eyes. Gisbo walked over and put his arms around her.

“All I can see is you in that ring and him doing the same thing to you! I love you, Gisbo! I can’t, won’t lose you, not to him, not like that!” Kennis said. “And Kinny and I, we told nobody about it, no one. We were afraid if we did, he might come after us, and nobody seemed to know anything about it! It was like it was swept under the rug. He murdered two Renegades in training just like you and me and nobody talks about it . . .”

Gisbo thought again of Narroway being blinded by his love for his son and his fist tightened.

“It’s ok, he can’t hurt you,” Gisbo said.

“I’m not worried about that! I’m worried about you! Please don’t fight him, Gisbo! Let someone else do it,” Kennis said.

Gisbo was silent.

“You don’t have to do this. Promise me, Gisbo,” Kennis said, her big, blue eyes wet and red with tears. Just looking at them made him feel guilty.

“I . . .” Gisbo started.

“Please, I know you’ve worked hard. It won’t be for nothing! Just don’t fight him, fight someone else! Please promise me! Promise me we’ll have a life together after all this is over!” Kennis said. At that, Gisbo felt the words fall from his mouth.

“I promise,” Gisbo said. Kennis let out a bated breath and hugged him.

“Thank you.” Kennis said.

Gisbo said nothing, only held her, thinking of another promise he made, and another promise made to him, and wondered which ones would actually be kept.

“You won’t win.”
Kennis’s words echoed through Gisbo’s head all morning and he had to admit it hurt, but he understood her reasoning. He donned his blue and white, draping cloak, hiding his identity, and made his way to the tournament alone.

The crowd, usually booming, was downright infectious. Everyone was up on their feet, cheering at one of the more exciting tournament events as the Renegade and Strife teams took their lines. The Renegades looked across the ring at their shrouded opponents, not knowing who was behind the green cloaks.

There were two large men and two average sized ones. Either way, Gisbo shook with excitement. This wasn’t going to be like his experience in the Ronigade tournament. No. There were no Boons, only their inner essence and one body against another until someone fell.

All natural.

Muscles jerked and a thousand encounters from his boyhood washed across his minds eye as the crowd’s noise surrounded him and set him at ease. He did not even hear Narroway give the announcement to begin their rolls. Only when the number five shot up to the sky, followed by a one, was he brought back to the reality of the situation.

“Renegades! Choose or pass,” Narroway ordered.

“We pass,” Perry stated.

“Strifes, present your fighter!” Narroway ordered.

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation. A fighter threw off his cloak and took his place within the ring, arms folded, tapping his foot.

“Seems they want to set the tone immediately,” Perry said.

“I’ll take this one,” Foxblade said, throwing off his cloak. “A scar lies above my right shoulder that requires repayment.”

“Luckily for you, we already decided you would be the one to face him,” Perry said.

“I know,” Foxblade said as he stepped up to the ring.

“Close quarter combat is a Shininja’s specialty, but no one does it better than the Fox of Blades,” Rake said.

“You mean, besides myself,” Gilfrid said.

“Right,” Rake said.

“I don’t like your tone, boy,” Gilfrid said.

Rake stood in silence and folded his arms.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought! Now, as for you, I understand Foxblade trained you last year? If so, we’re all in big trouble. You should have come to me!” Gilfrid said, slapping Gisbo on the back.

“The black dome, don’t you remember?” Gisbo asked.

“Oh, right, that pesky thing. Glad that’s gone!” Gilfrid said. He adjusted his gaze toward the ring. “Those Shininjas, sooo cocky! So full of themselves! Not like us Berserkers! Right there, Gizzy?”

“Yeah, right,” Gisbo muttered.

“What do you know about this one, Perry? I’ve never seen Foxblade so ready to volunteer for, well, anything,” Rake said.

“That’s Raner Baskfield. He’s an Aquarian master practitioner of Akida, a free flow movement that focuses on intercepting attacks and using their own energy against the user. Very dangerous, especially if he gets a hold of you. On top of that, he’s a master of human anatomy and knows how your body works better than you do. Joint manipulation, and locking, is his specialty. One wrong move, and your limb is broken, followed by your life,” Perry said.

“And what about Foxblade’s style? Can his compare to it?” Gisbo asked. Perry smiled.

“Foxblade has no style. He only adapts. Like wind through a keyhole, he unlocks the weak points of a structure and takes them down with nerve strikes. He too is a master of human anatomy, but at a baser level,” Perry said. “This, I know, is what he taught you. Be proud, Gisbo. Besides his own son, Foxblade has only had one other student. Maybe he was forced to work with you, for our own survival, but something tells me that simply wasn’t the case,” Perry said. Gisbo couldn’t help but smile.

“The only downside I see is that Raner is a master of something else. Patience. He won’t make a move until his opponent does. It is not an aggressive style. Foxblade, as we all know, lacks in one area,” Perry said.

“Patience,” Gisbo said.

“It’s a wonder you lived through his training then,” Rake jibed.

“Wow, was that a joke, Rake? Maybe friends are rubbing off on you,” Gisbo said. “I just wonder how someone who took a shot to the nose so easily is considered to be a top hand to hand fighter.”

“I took it, only to put you in debt. I will return the favor, cash it in, when you least expect it,” Rake said.

Gisbo gulped.

Foxblade looked at his competition. Nothing had changed since he last saw Raner Baskfield. He was still as thin as ever with long, lean muscles able to stretch and leave his opponents bewildered, then broken. He had short hair for no chance of entanglement, narrow, watchful eyes under a large brow, and a tight green Strife uniform with the ribbons along the shoulders removed. Even while standing on his line, he took up a standard Akida position, knees bent and feet spread apart so his legs took on a diamond shape. His right hand was higher to protect the face, and the left lower to protect his mid-section and groin area.

Foxblade paced along his line like a stalking tiger, keeping his energy up and blood flowing, watching his opponent’s every breath, every blink. He hadn’t faced someone of Raner’s level in a while. His short lived battle with Scarrr was like fighting a child, but Raner would be different. He felt his heart pump as adrenaline flew through his body, as the fear of an unknown outcome excited his body, but not his mind.

In Foxblade’s mind, he had already won . . .

Narroway got the ready signal from each fighter, lifted his hand, and dropped it with his usual enthusiasm.

“BEGIN!” Narroway yelled.

As expected, Raner stood still, not making a move, and Foxblade continued his pacing, this time leaving his starting line. The cheering crowd grew quiet, awaiting the explosion that was sure to come. Foxblade paced around his foe in a tight, controlled circle, ready to pounce, forcing Raner to turn with him. Foxblade spun his foe about in a counterclockwise position three times, winding him like a pocket watch.

“He never fought me like this; what’s he waiting for?” Gisbo muttered.

“Because you weren’t an Akida master,” Rake said. “One bad move, and Foxblade will be on his back with a broken neck, or worse, dead.”

Gisbo gulped again.