Authors: J. C. Fiske

Tags: #Young Adult, #harry potter, #Fantasy, #percy jackson, #epic fantasy, #anime, #super heroes

Renegade Rupture (53 page)

“Falcon, if we could just . . .” Drakearon interrupted. Falcon pointed his ring at him and let loose with a wicked fire ball. Drakearon raised a hand and blocked it without effort.

“I’ll get to you when I’m damn well ready,” Falcon snapped. Drakearon said nothing, only looked down to see all of the fingers in his right hand were broken and twisted. He knew that his Drakeness would heal little bones as these, but the pain was like nothing he had ever felt. Not even from Vadid himself, and for the first time in his life, Drakearon was stunned into silence.

“Sorry, you know how it is with assholes. They can never shut up; they always gotta be spraying something! Don’t you just hate that? So rude!” Falcon asked. Gisbo started to laugh.

“Dad, remember when we first met at Oak County? When you were a janitor? Remember when we talked about dreams for IAM knows how long?” Gisbo asked.

“Well, technically, that’s not when we first met, but yes, how could I forget?” Falcon asked.

“Well, what I told you that day, what I wanted to do with my life, it was absolutely true, but I found out as my memories came back to me that I had another dream,” Gisbo said.

“Oh? Well now, ain’t this a turn of events. And what sort of dream was that, son?” Falcon asked.

“My dream, my greatest dream, my first dream, Dad, was to be just like you, and make you proud,” Gisbo said. Falcon smiled.

“Son . . .” Falcon said, stammering. “You’re gonna need a new dream.”

“Why?” Gisbo asked.

“Because you already have,” Falcon said. He kissed Gisbo tenderly on his forehead. “Now, since we’re sharing dreams again, would you like to hear my dream?”

“Of course, Dad,” Gisbo said.

“My dream was to meet a beautiful woman, my soul mate, fall in love, have a son, and make him into the sort of man that would do this world proud. That being said, do you remember what else I told you that day in the rain?” Falcon said.

“You told me lots of things; I couldn’t shut you up,” Gisbo said, smiling.

“Well then, stop me if you’ve heard this one. The moment you can die without regrets, is the moment you truly start to live. That’s just it, son. I knew what I wanted out of this life, I went after it, and I achieved my goals.” Falcon said. Gisbo didn’t like the sound of that.

“Dad . . . what are you,” Gisbo started.

“But one thing still remains, son. Making you the sort of man that would do this world proud. To do that, a father needs to lead by example,” Falcon said.

“Dad . . .” Gisbo said.

“I’m about to do something really stupid, something that has never been done before,” Falcon said, standing up to his feet and sighing. “I’m going to be going away for a while, son. Where I’m going, you cannot follow. I’ve been thinking long and hard about this moment, some last phrase to tell you, something you can always remember me by. That way, when things get darkest, you can say this little diddie and feel me close,”

“Dad,” Gisbo started.

“And I think I may have, sort of, found it. So, if you would, prepare yourself once more for one of Falcon Vadid’s famous speeches,” Falcon said, patting his pants, his chest comically. Falcon stopped, smiled, and looked at him.

“Here it is, Gisbo. When I’m gone, please, remember these words,” Falcon said.

“Gone? Dad! But, Dad!” Gisbo started, dread gripping his heart. Tears began to well up in his eyes.

All was quiet. Falcon took in a deep breath, all eyes upon him, closed his eyes, put his back to Drakearon, strained, and then,

BRUMMMMMMMMPH!

The loudest fart Gisbo had ever heard blasted out his father’s backside. It was so good, so juicy, it sounded fake. Gisbo didn’t want to laugh, frankly, it hurt him, but he couldn’t help himself. Gisbo and his father laughed, and laughed, and pointed at Purah, and Lokin who coughed and gagged. Even Drakearon was forced to take off his mask and turn his back to them in order to hold his nose.

Together, Father and son laughed until they cried, and when the two of them were breathing hard, Falcon walked toward his son, put an arm around him, and looked him in the eyes.

“Sometimes, Gisbo, what this world needs more than anything else is just a little laughter. Sometimes, fools are required more than heroes, and sometimes, all it takes, is a good fart to bring even Gods to their knees.” Falcon said as he stood up to his full height.

“You’re ridiculous,” Gisbo said.

“Did you expect anything less outta me, son? Now, real quick, I know I told you to put on Vadid’s necklace, but do you mind if I wear it for a second?” Vadid asked.

“Um, yeah, but you’re gonna have to take it off me. I can’t, I can’t even raise my arms . . .” Gisbo said.

“Thanks, son, I feel I’ll need his help for this,” Falcon said, removing the necklace and putting it around his neck. “Sit tight for a minute. Let me talk to the pansy asses,” Falcon said as he walked toward the three men who were still trying to get their bearings.

“The most foul stench, I’ve ever, ever . . .” Lokin stammered, coughing. “What, what in the hell is wrong with you!?”

“Oh, boy, where to begin . . .” Falcon said, rolling his eyes, thinking.

“ENOUGH!” Drakearon bellowed. After a deep breath, Drakearon found his patience once again. “Falcon Vadid. The servant returns to the master. I’ve missed you,” Drakearon said. “Come home. Come, help me shape this world, as you once did.”

Falcon reached into his shirt and pulled out the necklace, holding it, feeling the warm metal, and closed his eyes.

“Not yet . . . I’m not home yet, and neither are you,” Falcon said.

“Whatever do you mean? Do you not see this army? It is vaster than any sea, mightier than any storm. It will break through all opposition, end all pain, all suffering, and be welcomed into my open arms,” Drakearon said. “Please, listen to reason!”

“I’ve never been much for listening, frankly,” Falcon said. “But that doesn’t mean I’ve never learned from you.”

Drakearon fell silent.

“What I have learned from you is that you’re no God. Gods don’t tremble at the ass blasts of a mere, foolish turkey like me,” Falcon said. “No, you’re a man, a powerful one, but even men can burn. I’ve learned it, you know.”

“Learned? Learned what, I beg?” Purah asked.

“Oh, you know, the Flarian technique talked of only in legends because no one in their right mind would be foolish enough to try it. Luckily for you, I meet all the requirements,” Falcon said, grinning.

“We’re leaving,” Drakearon said.

“Surely he’s just bluffing, he . . .” Purah started.

“Before you go, Purah. Remember my promise . . .” Falcon said. Purah was about to say something when he was interupted by Drakearon’s booming voice.

“NOW! Grab my cloak!” Drakearon bellowed. They all did and with a blast of Drakeness, all four men teleported away to an unknown location, leaving only father and son with the remaining monsters.

“What did you do?” Gisbo asked.

“Nothing yet,” Falcon said. He powered up his essence, then compressed it, held it, and exploded it out again. Over and over, he built layers and layers of fire within his body. Gisbo stared on, puzzled.

“Don’t worry, son. My fire won’t harm you, but it will harm everything else here,” Falcon said. “Crawl to me, son, before the Drakelings come.”

Gisbo did, as quickly as he could. The first wave of creatures shook off their ordered stillness and went on the offensive.

“What are you going to do?” Gisbo said.

“Give to you my gift, remember?” Falcon asked. “I’m giving you more than just power; I’m giving you time.”

Falcon pumped his power up and out. The fire swirling about them was so vast, it extended out more than twenty feet. Any Drakeling that came toward it was burnt to a crisp. Along the fire’s dancing tendrils, Gisbo saw blackness.

“You’re using the Drakeness, aren’t you?” Gisbo asked. Falcon winced, his face red, beads of sweat dripping down his body and splatting on the floor.

“Yes . . . one . . . last . . . time,” Falcon said.

“STOP THAT TALK! YOU AREN’T GOING ANYWHERE! LET’S RUN! SKEET AWAY!” Gisbo screamed.

“Impossible, son. As I said, Drakearon’s army is unstoppable. Overnight, he could take this world by force. I . . . I won’t let him. Here, I make my stand. Here, I give my life . . .” Falcon said.

“Dad, Dad, no!” Gisbo screamed.

“Goodbye, son. I love you,” Falcon said.

A fire blast like nothing the world had ever felt erupted outward, destroying the ring, destroying Heaven’s Shelter, and destroying every Drakeling in the immediate area in one, immense, nuclear blast.

Hours later, when Gisbo opened his eyes, he was covered in black soot. He coughed, feeling it deep in his lungs, and looked up into the new dark purple sky to see it raining down white ash flakes.

The first thing he saw was the black tower, still standing and glowing blue at the top for reasons unbeknownst to him. The second thing he saw was his father, standing tall. Gisbo’s heart skipped. He ran to him, embraced him in a hug. Rather than feeling his warmth however and smelling tobacco, Gisbo only felt coldness and smelled burnt skin.

Gisbo looked up to see that the explosion had changed the molecular structure of his father’s body, melding everything together into a solid, mass of detail that turnedhis father’s remains into a statue. The statue looked like stone, it felt like stone, but Gisbo knew it wasn’t. He went to ponder it further and touched the statue again only to hear a faint cracking. A moment later, Falcon’s remains crumbled into dust.

Gisbo stood, shaking all over. He fell to his knees, feeling again that awful, horrible vice grip around his heart. He went to cry and found he couldn’t. It was as if all the hurt, all the pain was now trapped, unable to get out. Panic struck him then, but he noticed something in the pile of dust, something glinting.

Gisbo pulled it out and saw the dangling phoenix necklace sparkling in the moonlight, still warm. Gisbo looked at the phoenix emblem, then at the dust, then back at the Phoenix. He gritted his teeth, cursed violently, and slammed his fists against the dirt over and over again, cursing the Phoenix for not coming, for not helping when he, when they all, needed him most, and how he didn’t give him the power he needed . . .

Then the guilt came on, the unimaginable guilt of killing his fellow Renegades, of failing to save Kennis, and he fell into another panic attack. This time no one was there to hold him close, to tell him it was all going to be all right.

No one there . . .

###

Table of Contents

Prologue: Midnight Meeting

Chapter One: The Open Door

Chapter Two: Strife Invasion

Chapter Three: Everything Burns

Chapter Four: The End of an Era

Chapter Five: War is Blind

Chapter Six: The Blond Swan

Chapter Seven: Moonlit Flight

Chapter Eight: Dinner and a Fight