Renegade Reborn (58 page)

On his own now, Rolce rolled to one side, and not just got up, but jumped up, walked out into the pathway, and gazed about at the two walls of flames, separating the armies, and the hundreds upon hundreds of white, twinkling ghost wolves, ready, and lying in wait. Rolce shook his head, his mouth agape in amazement, then turned back to his friend.

“How are you doing this?” Rolce asked.

“Doesn’t matter. All I know is I can’t keep doing it for long,” Gisbo said, as suddenly, his eyes took a roll up into the back of his head, and he faltered back a bit a few steps.

“Gisbo!” Rolce said, catching him, but Gisbo grabbed his arm, and righted himself.

“I’m fine, really, just, just a quick loss of balance, that’s all,” Gisbo said, taking in a deep breath, and righting himself back up with Rolce’s help.

“I can’t even imagine what it takes to . . . everything, everything has a cost, what sort of cost does it take to control all of this?” Rolce asked. Gisbo looked up at him and gave a smile.

“It’s not important. I know who I am, and what I’m here for. I’m here, to stop assholes like that . . .” Gisbo started, pointing at Ranto before mentally asking himself,

If Ranto’s there, where’s Malik? Where’s the Goat Man?
But then, quickly tossed the thought aside, knowing that they’d come, oh, they would come, at precisely the worst possible moment. He then looked back at Rolce.

“I have no grand speeches planned, Rolce. I have nothing more to say, other than this . . .” Gisbo said. He then looked up at his friend, into the same eyes that experienced so much loss, so much pain, so much hardship, so much joy, together. He looked into the eyes of the man, who had stuck by him, believed in him, when no one else did. He looked into the eyes of the man who had balanced him, and made him into the man he was today. So many memories rose up. They had braved Oak County together, trained together, wept together, faced war together, and, faced tragedy together. What do you say to a man who stood by you through all that? Gisbo felt his eyes grow moist at the corners, and let his heart speak.

“I love you, man,” Gisbo said, his voice cracking at the end. Rolce’s eyes filled with tears. He stood for a moment, then moved forward ready to wrap Gisbo in the manliest hug possible, but Gisbo stuck a finger in the air.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” Gisbo said, taking in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Whew, ok . . . listen up and listen good. I’m going to deactivate this fire in a few moments, and when I do, all hell’s gonna break loose. Lead them, Rolce. Lead them to victory,” Gisbo said.

“And what are you going to do?” Rolce asked.

“What I was born to do.” Gisbo said, as he suddenly, stabbed his Phoenix blade into the dirt, cracked his neck, then his knuckles, and made his way toward Ranto, his fists lowered, and clenched.

“Gisbo! What are you doing!? Pick up your sword! Ranto! He’s beyond anything I’ve encountered! You won’t stand a chance without your Phoenix power! GISBO!” Rolce screamed, and then, Jackobi was by his side.

“Let him go,” Jack said.

“No, Jack.” Rolce asked. “I don’t even think at 100% I could put a dent in him. He’s not at all like, Purah. He truly is a master of the Drakeness! His hate for Gisbo has made him unbelievably powerful! If Gisbo thinks he can beat him, just with his Flarian, Elekai energies alone, he’s crazy!”

And then, as if hearing him, Gisbo slid off both of his red, Elekai’ rings as he walked, and tossed them, one at a time, over each of his shoulders.

“GISBO!” Rolce cried out, ready to charge after him, but Jack held him back.

“Wait. Turn around, and look . . .” Jack said. Rolce did and couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“I don’t know if it’s the wolves’ presence, or what, but Gisbo stopped using his Phoenix energies when he stabbed his sword in the ground. The fire walls are down, but nobody’s moving . . .” Jack said, closing his eyes, and stretching out with his enhanced senses. “Listen to them. Can you hear it? Can you hear their warrior hearts beating excitedly? They’re fascinated . . . someone, is challenging one of their leaders, the man who rallied them with power, and fear, and order, and someone, someone is challenging him, outright defying him, with nothing more than the two fists and body he was born with . . .”

“He can’t beat him without Elekai! Everything’s going to rebound back at him! He’s going in there, just, just,” Rolce started.

“Just a man, yeah, and guess what? Symbolism, it’s everything. Oak County may be the symbol for democracy, of races setting aside their differences and working together for the greater good, but Gisbo, he’s symbolizing something else, embodying something else . . . Jackobi said.

“And that is?” Rolce asked.

“The common man, the Average Joe, the downtrodden, the ones who aren’t born special, the ones not born with essential energies. He’s going to fight Ranto their way. He’s going to show them what happens, when a man, listens to his own beating heart, and finds the will, to dare differently . . .”

“Your arrogance truly knows no bounds! Do you not remember our last fight? I was only defeated because I, unlike you, did not have the power of Drakearon flowing through me! And now, you mean to come at me, without your Phoenix power, without even . . . Elekai!? ARE YOU INSANE!?” Ranto bellowed.

“So they keep telling me . . .” Gisbo said, shrugging.

“And you honestly think you can win!?” Ranto asked. Gisbo didn’t even break his stride.

“Yup,” Gisbo said, grinning the same wicked grin that kept Ranto tossing and turning on sleepless nights.

“You’re mocking me, you’re planning something, something sinister,” Ranto said.

“Me? Plan? I’m offended by the notion!” Gisbo declared, throwing up his hands.

“Enough of your, MOUTH! Fine, you don’t want to use, Elekai? Your Phoenix power? Or, I assume, your Drakeness? FINE! Then let’s repeat some history . . .” Ranto said, stretching out his arms, leaving himself vulnerable, and ignited his Flarian essence, surrounding himself in flickering flames, with splotches of black Drakeness intertwined within.

“Go ahead! Prove you words! Hit me, and prove to everyone here how much of a fraud you really are . . .” Ranto said.

Gisbo stopped now, and stood within striking distance of Ranto. He seemed to always forget just how tall Ranto was until he got close to him. Gisbo was six foot even in flat feet, but right now, he was face to face with Ranto’s chest, and Gisbo’s long hair, cape, and bandanna tails flapped about furiously from the power the Strife Titan was giving off.

“Come on . . .” Ranto challenged, his arms still outstretched, his fingers wriggling with anticipation.

“Foolish turkey . . .” Gisbo said.

And with that, Gisbo charged, and leaning all of his body weight forward, he embraced the fire style, claimed all the available space, made it his own, and threw everything that made him up as a person into one, solid, straight punch into Ranto’s stomach . . .

RAGGGGHHHHHH!!!

Everybody shuddered, every mouth dropped, and every eye grew wide as the sound of Ranto’s breath leaving him, boomed throughout the courtyard.

Ranto keeled over, and heaved up both vomit and blood before falling to his knees, clutching his stomach, as if he had just been struck in the manhood instead. Instantly, he lost control of his essence and it fizzled out.

Gisbo then grabbed a clump of Ranto’s hair and twisted his head back so they could be eye to eye.

“Look at me.” Gisbo said. Ranto’s eyes remained closed. Gisbo just squeezed tighter, and with a yelp, Ranto’s eyes snapped open.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. I know how much of an exhibitionist you are, so, I’m going to embarrass you, and everything you stand for, right here right now, in front of the eyes of the civilized and uncivilized alike. The world is our stage now, and you? Congratulations. You’re going to be playing the part of my little bitch . . .” Gisbo said, his face stone. “I will not quit. I will not show mercy. Prepare for the beating of your life . . .”

And with that, Gisbo let go of Ranto’s hair, and clapped both of his hands over the sides of Ranto’s ears, bursting both of the Strife’s eardrums, and sending a painful vibration into his brain and down his spin, before head-butting him straight on into the nose, forcing his eyes shut, giving him no chance to see, or dodge, the rising knee up into his groin, or the strike to the kidney, or the straight kick that nearly caved in his chest cavity and sent him sprawling backward into a roll where he lay in a desecrated heap.

“So, I was thinking today, you know, of the first time we fought, where you laid that little chestnut of wisdom upon me, about how sports, competitions, all that, how it’s just a ton of bullshit, how it’s limited to hands and feet, and how fighting another, one on one, is the highest form of competition. How’d you put it? Right, you lay it all on the line, incorporate all that you are, against all someone else is,” Gisbo said. “And then, we both know what happened, I hit you, and all my energy rebounded back on me.”

Ranto lay upon the ground, his teeth stained with blood, his chest, rising and falling, as if it were bouncing, trying to take in a much desired breath.

“Please . . . please . . . no . . . no, more . . .” Ranto wheezed.

“So, that got me thinking, and you know me, that doesn’t come without a lot effort, that, maybe, just maybe there’s a way to harness more than just Elekai energy? I mean, think about it. We turn food into energy to walk, talk, shit, and eat? Maybe, just maybe, there’s a way to harness that? Well, let’s just say, I’ve done some traveling, I’ve done some drinking, and I’ve done some learning, and I’d rather not get into the specifics, but let’s say, I met someone who thought the same thing. I know, here I thought I had a brilliant, original thought, but alas, no, but, you know what? Let’s not go into detail. I’d rather just use your body as an example!” Gisbo said, as he kicked Ranto in the kidney with the toe of his boot, forcing him to shoot up to a sitting position, and when he did, Gisbo snapped a hand forward and grabbed the big man by the throat, and squeezed.

“Because, you see, if an idiot like me can climb this high through nothing, but all natural human spirit, and a little luck, than guess what?” Gisbo asked, pulling him forward. “You’re nothin’ special.”

Gisbo then released Ranto, who fell back to the ground, writhing about, trying to get a footing, coughing up blood, looking like a wet, beached fish, flopping about in search of water.

“Oh, come on, Ranto. You’re embarrassing yourself now. Go on, take a breather, let that magical Drakeness do its thing and heal you so I can break you all over again.” Gisbo said, suddenly, charging forward. “Funny thing about the Drakeness though. It can’t cure broken limbs, can it?”

Gisbo then grabbed Ranto’s wrist, twisted it up, and felt three bones break as easily as a bird’s wing. Ranto screamed in agony.

“You betrayed us all. Joined with a man who destroyed our home, killed my family, killed my love, made me kill my friends, and for what? Selfishness? Pride?” Gisbo asked, as he raised back a fist. Ranto’s eyes went wide staring at it.

“All I have to do, is bring my fist down, right on top of your heart, and it will stop, but no . . . to quote my father, ‘death is easy, living is the hard part.’ You’ve had enough . . .” Gisbo said, as he let a literally broken Ranto fall.

“You should have killed him,” Malik said. Gisbo turned around to see Malik Strife, both of his blades drawn and ignited, appearing seemingly out of nowhere.

“Was wondering when you were going to show up.” Gisbo said. Malik took off one of his rings, threw it on the ground before Gisbo, along with one of his blades.

“You’re gonna need ‘em,” Malik said. Gisbo looked down at the red glistening, curved sword, and the ring, then, looked back up at Malik, his cousin, his own flesh and blood, looking back at him with the eyes of Vadid the Valiant, the eyes, of his mother, and the eyes, of himself.

“I think you may be right,” Gisbo said. “Answer me this though. Do you know the truth? About us?”

“Yeah . . .” Malik said.

“Does it change things?” Gisbo asked.

“It only makes more sense.” Malik said.

“Fair enough . . .” Gisbo said, as he bent down, slipped on the ring and picked up the sword, only taking his eyes off of Malik for a moment of a moment, and that’s all it took. Gisbo’s Phoenix blade skewered Malik through the chest, and nobody saw The Goat Man pick it up, or attack, until, it was too late . . .

Malik looked down at the blue blade protruding through his chest. Blood was everywhere, and rather than a look of pain, he had instead, a look of shock, and betrayal. With the last of his remaining energy, Malik turned his head, and saw the Goat Man holding the Phoenix Blade with both hands.

“But . . . you promised . . .” Malik said, and with that, Malik’s eyes rolled up into his head, and he fell forward, hitting the ground, lifeless. The Goat man pulled the Phoenix blade free, then, planted it into the ground like a flag.

“So naïve, and yet, so much wasted potential. Oh, well, and yes, to answer your question, you are not imagining this. I am real as can be, and everyone can see me.” The Goat Man said. To prove his point, with a quick toss, he threw Gisbo’s blade to him. Gisbo caught it neatly, and he couldn’t help it, his eyes went right to the crimson smear across the blade. “And don’t look so surprised. I know you’ve been expecting me, and you, my dear Gisbo, have behaved, and prepared yourself beautifully. I couldn’t be happier.”