Renegade Reborn (39 page)

He yawned and stretched, and surprisingly enough, his head didn’t pound and the light didn’t hurt his eyes. It felt strange not having a hangover, but he remembered that was because he stuck with beer all night rather than liquor, and it seemed his body and his head was thanking him for it.

Gisbo sat up now and looked about his treehouse. He remembered when he walked in originally that the place was immaculately clean, but now, in one night, day, evening, morning? Gisbo had no idea how time passed in the place. All he did know, was that now, the place was a wreck of its former self, and even some of the barrels had fallen from their wall sockets and broken open, leaving the pungent aroma of skunked, flat beer on the air. Gisbo also noticed that somehow, one of the skylines was cracked, there was a half-eaten pizza on the floor, and one of the slices was stuck firmly to the wall. He rose up to pick it off the wall, and that’s when he felt a sharp pain in his ass. With a curse, he quickly reached around and pulled out a Knuck-Knife, which was thankfully closed, and scratched his head, puzzled. He had sold his, so it must have been Vadid’s.

“How in the hell did this get in my ass?” Gisbo wondered aloud, as he threw it to the floor, and was answered by a snort. He looked across the room to see Vadid, sprawled out across the couch. One of his legs was draped over the arm and Fao was sleeping on his chest, her tail curled back around his head serving as a neck pillow for the former Warlord of Oak County. Gisbo shook his head.

If only they could see him now
, Gisbo thought. Then, an idea crossed his mind. Gisbo rubbed his hands together with an evil smile, tiptoed over to Fao, then, wrapped his arms slowly around Fao’s stomach.

“Payback time”, Gisbo whispered aloud, then, he squeezed Fao’s stomach.

BRRRMMMPHHH!

Fao, even by wolf standards, blasted an epic fart straight into the open face holes of Vadid the Valiant.

“GOOD GIRL!” Gisbo said, laughing.

“BLARGH!” Vadid screamed, shooting up and startling Fao, who in the process of trying to get off of him, as dogs tend to do, stepped right on his genitals. Vadid cried out in pain, his mouth making an O-shape as he rolled off the coach, landing on his face, and began to roll all about. Gisbo keeled over, not able to stand on his feet, and laughed until it began hurting, and even then, he couldn’t stop.

“So . . . so that’s what I look like when that happens! No wonder Falcon always laughed at me! I thought he was just being cruel!” Gisbo said.

“ACK! It’s, it’s in my mouth! DAMN, DOG!” Vadid said, making dry heaving noises.

“Hey! Don’t puke in my new place! Wouldn’t want you to . . .” Gisbo started, but he found his sentence halted by Vadid’s gaze, as his eyes popped up, and looked at him over the coffee table, like a crocodile’s eyes peeking over the surface of the water.

“Uh, oh,” Gisbo started, gulping. Vadid then pointed a sausage finger at him.

“Your ass is mine!” Vadid growled as he pounced over the table, tackling him to the ground.

“I could get used to this I think, HAH!” Gisbo shouted, throwing a punch that Vadid whacked aside.

“Get used to what?” Vadid asked, countering Gisbo’s blocked punch with a full essenced powered back-knuckle. Gisbo ducked and rose up with an uppercut that clipped the corner of Vadid’s chin with his Elekai’ Ring, cutting him.

“Kicking your ass, reading books, then getting drunk every night!” Gisbo said, pushing the attack, only to have Vadid side step back around behind him, locking him in a sleeper hold and cutting off his windpipe.

“Who is kicking whose ass?” Vadid asked. Gisbo reached underneath and pinched the tender skin above Vadid’s groin, then, when Vadid bent forward, Gisbo lifted his back heel straight into Vadid’s crotch, buckling him, then spun out of his grasp while holding Vadid’s left arm and twisted it back, holding it in place.

“One twist and your arm’s broken, surrender, and name me King Asskicker!” Gisbo said. Vadid looked up.

“You? King Asskicker? BAH! Don’t make me . . .” Vadid started, when Gisbo applied pressure to his arm.

“Trust me, I don’t want you laughing,” Gisbo warned.

“Ok, ok, so, you can hit me now without damaging yourself. Our essence is on par with one another. Big woopdi friggin doo . . .” Vadid said, when suddenly, he glowed fiercely and erupted his energy outward in a huge explosion of energy, causing Gisbo to let go and fly back.

“Hah, see? There’s more to a fight then just fists, you’re just . . .” Vadid started when he turned his head and saw that Gisbo had indeed flown back, but not as far as he had predicted. There Gisbo stood, his arms and legs outstretched, taking the bubble shaped energy blast and hugging around it with his own essence, containing it, matching its power, and stopping it from completely bursting outward, grunting with displeasure. If it were any other opponent, Vadid would have been worried, but instead, he was filled with pride. There, before him, was his Grandson, showing incredible control over his essence, in perfect concentration, matching his own exact energy output and halting the explosion.

Gisbo then took a slow, but sturdy step forward, then another, pushing the bubble forward, got it moving, and then, with an all-out scream, he threw his body forward and clapped his hands together, sending the energy blast right back at a defenseless Vadid, still rising to his feet. Vadid took the blast head on and flew back, high into the air, and up and out of the forest, flipping, and spinning like a sports ball hit by a bat. After much effort, Vadid managed to right himself in the air and come back down through the treetops atop several branches, bouncing his way down like a tree frog, only to hit the last branch and have it break beneath his weight, sending him crashing into a pile of leaves. It was then, before he could get his bearings, he felt his ring burn, and he watched it leave his finger, and fly through the air, landing in Gisbo’s open palm. Gisbo then walked forward until he stood over his Grandfather.

“And that’s how Gisbo Falcon beat Vadid the Valiant and became, King Ass-kicker, folks!” Gisbo said, with a devilish grin, tossing Vadid’s ring up and down in his hand playfully.

Vadid looked up at him with slitted eyes.

“Hey? You aren’t bitter are you? After all, you really just beat yourself with your own blast,” Gisbo said.

“I wasn’t in the right mindset, I . . .” Vadid started. Gisbo put out his hand and helped him to his feet.

“Oh, come on. Just admit that I beat you fair and square. You’ve only kicked my ass, oh, I dunno, I think our record in the past two years is about 2086 to my 1!” Gisbo said.

“We’re here to make you strong, not stroke my ego and pride, besides, I don’t take things personally. If I did I’d . . .” Vadid started, only to cut off his sentence, finishing it with a rising sucker punch into Gisbo’s stomach, felling him to the ground, and taking away his breath.

“What . . . what . . . what was . . .” Gisbo coughed out.

“How many times have I told you not to let your guard down? So much work to do, you’re hopeless, HOPELESS!” Vadid said, throwing up his hands in frustration and walking away. Gisbo managed to roll onto his stomach, and get his breath back.

“Hey, hey! Get back here, I . . .” Gisbo started, when suddenly, a Knuck-Knife flew straight at him and landed in the ground before him.

“You tryin’ to kill me!?” Gisbo yelled.

“Just the opposite. I admit you got a little skill in the fist department, and Elekai control, but only because you got it from me, remember that, Sara!” Vadid said, sticking a thumb into his chest.

“Oh, back to that again, Nancy?” Gisbo snapped.

“Wha? NANCY? If anything I’ve always considered myself a Wilma!” Vadid said, winking. “Now, pick that up. I may regret this, but maybe, just maybe, it’s time to move onto weapons. Let’s start ourselves out small, Knuck-Knife only, a sissy weapon, and let’s see if we can’t just get you up to the level of Phoenix Blade.”

“Well, fine!” Gisbo said, as he put on the Knuck-Knife, activated his essence, and charged at Vadid.

“Never let your guard down, ASS!” Gisbo said, striking at Vadid, who merely ducked, and slashed at his underbelly. Gisbo strutted forward, only to see his pants were completely down, the seam slashed, and Vadid had somehow, gotten behind him, and put his blade over Gisbo’s throat.

“Who’s the ass now, Missy? I thought you were King Ass-kicker?” Vadid asked, grinning.

“Ha . . . Ha . . . let’s pull down Gisbo’s pants and have a good laugh,” Gisbo said. Vadid released him, and let him pull his pants back up and re-tie his waste string.

“There are two types of people in this world, Gizzy, those with their pants up, and . . .” Vadid started, then, pittered out.

“And?” Gisbo asked, gazing at him puzzled.

“And . . .” Vadid started, clearly thinking hard.

“Ugh! I’m so sick of your stupid little sayings! You’re just making them up now!” Gisbo said.

“Shutty! That one, that one just got away from me a little bit, and, HEY! At least I’m making an effort here! You know how hard it is to have fresh material for you every day over the course a two years!?” Vadid argued.

“All right, all right. I’ll let you hold onto the King Ass-Kicker title a little longer if it’ll make ya feel better, but soon, very soon, that title, as well as your sword, is gonna be all mine!” Gisbo said.

“You want it, Kelly? Come and get it!” Vadid said.

“Aw, look at you! Ya flatter me. Kelly’s a boy’s name too!” Gisbo said.

Vadid returned his comment with rolled eyes and a snort and together they charged, flipping, spinning, countering, and striking with the short blades and brassed knuckles in a flurry of gold and red sparks that would rival any fireworks display.

Chapter Nineteen: Malik’s Story

Malik Strife stood within the ruins of Bleat, a small farming town lying between Oak County and Cledwyn city, just over the border of Flarian territory. His men cheered, laughed, drank, raped, and pillaged until nothing remained but resources, blood, sweat, and piss. To the minds of the men, the victors of this village, their actions weren’t evil, nor was it good.

It was evolution.

Evolve or Die. That was their life creed now, and they had tested such creed against their first village and not only survived, but grew stronger, absorbing the village’s men for slaves, their women for pleasure, and their resources for their coming war against Oak County.

“Hey, HEY! WHERE YOU GOIN’?” A hoarse voice called. Malik turned to see a thin, skeleton of a man, chasing a little boy with a limp. In the boy’s hands, he held a small goat. The skeleton man, in a few bounds, grabbed the boy by his hair and threw him to the ground, just a few feet before Malik, but the boy, rather than stay grounded, crawled under some steps as the building the steps were attached to, were still engulfed in flames.

From beneath the stairs the boy shivered, and with big, dewy eyes he looked up at Malik, who stared back with fire from the smoldering building reflecting in his dark eyes. They looked upon another for a long moment, not quite sure why, until the skeleton man appeared and reached down with bony, long, fish belly white fingers. The boy tried to get away, but the skeleton man was too fast, and in a flash, he had the boy by the throat.

“Almost lost ya there my little giblet! Come to Daddy, come and . . .” The skeleton man cooed, as the little boy now looked up into his dead, doll like eyes. However, before the skeleton man could pull the boy to him, a hand reached down, landed upon his wrist and twisted it up, forcing him to let go of the boy. The skeleton man, furious, stood up to his full height, ready to claw at the eyes of his attacker, only to adapt a look of shock as he stared into the manic eyes of Malik Strife.

“Oh, you . . .” The skeleton man said. The color drained from his already pale white face, making it seem translucent.

“Leave him. This one’s mine.” Malik snapped, leaving no room for argument.

“I . . . oh, ok, didn’t realize you were into that sort a thing, too! He’s all yours, Boss! Plenty more where that came from!” The skeleton man said, licking rusted color teeth with a split tongue, and with a giggle, he bounded off and joined the others in their victory celebration. Malik watched him go then bent down in a squatted position, staring at the boy.

“Please, please . . . I-I . . .I-I . . .” The boy started, clutching his little, mewling goat to his chest.

Malik reached out, gently, and picked the boy up from under his arm pits, placed him on the ground, and shuffled him along away from the fire and out into the darkness of the forest. Once there, Malik looked all about, made sure he was alone, then looked down at the boy.

“Get out of here,” Malik ordered. He then turned and began his return to the desecrated village only to feel a tug at his pants. Malik spun, to see the boy.

“My mommy and daddy, where, where are they?” The boy asked. Malik looked at him for a long moment.

“Dead,” Malik said coldly.

The boy’s eyes burst into tears, then, but he didn’t wail. Malik opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came. Instead, he turned his back on the boy and returned to the village. When he arrived, he saw his men stacking bodies like hay bundles onto a growing pyre of flame, homes were still being searched for every bit of resources and women, as well as some men, were being raped out in the open. Some screamed for mercy while others screamed for death. It was ugly, Malik knew, but such was the way of evolution. The wolves took from the sheep to become satisfied, and become stronger. It was pure. It was fair. It was chaos. It was right.