Renegade Reborn (7 page)

“ . . . Drakearon, what he did to me . . . I, I can’t feel. I can’t cry. I can’t get a release. There’s just, there’s just this numbing pressure, this tightness in my chest and stomach, like I’m on the verge of a heart attack that never comes.”

“Gisbo . . .” Glinda mouthed.

“There was just so much tragedy, so much death, all at once, that my mind can’t process it. Something’s broken inside me, making me doubt myself, and all my actions. I’ve never felt this way before, and until I fix it, I’m a danger to myself, but more importantly, I’m a danger to you all. I’m sorry, I’m just, so sorry. Please, Rolce, Niffin, everyone? Please don’t come looking for me again. If I ever hurt any of you . . . again . . . it would be the literal death of me.” Gisbo said. He turned to walk away, then stopped. When he spoke, he spoke to the ground, unable to look at his friends anymore.

“You know? My whole life, all I wanted was solitude. All I wanted was to be left alone, and now that I’ve had it? Well, it’s funny. All I think about is you guys. All I think about . . . is her.” Gisbo started, then swallowed hard, turned his back on his friends, shoved his hands in his pockets, and made his way for the exit. He was about to clear the arena and reach the doublewide door, when a figure stepped out of the shadows and blocked his path.

“For one so full of shit, it’s amazing you can still walk.” Rake Lokin muttered, and with one quick snap of his fist, he cracked Gisbo between his eyes, knocking him out cold, and crumpling him to the ground. Everyone else ran across the arena, staring wide-eyed at the downed Gisbo, then, at Rake.

“What did you just do?” Rolce asked in a panic.

“I cashed in a promise. The moment seemed right.” Rake said, as he bent down, and lifted Gisbo up onto his shoulders.

“What, what is this? What are you doing?” Rolce asked.

“Doing what you can’t,” Rake said, as he carried Gisbo through the doublewide doors.

“Which is?” Rolce asked.

“Fixing him,” Rake said, without turning around, as the doublewide doors shut behind him. Suddenly, Jackobi appeared beside them and he put a hand on Rolce’s shoulder.

“We’re going on a little trip, Rolce. Don’t wait up. You’re right, we’ve sat back long enough. It’s time to do something. You say you’re not a leader, and maybe that’s true, but you damned well led us here. Take it a little further, get everyone out of this depressive darkness, and blow it up on your way out,” Jackobi said.

“But what if we need this place? What if we . . .” Rolce started. Jackobi looked all around and sniffed the air with a disgusted face.

“Nobody needs this place,” Jackobi said as he threw two travel bags over his shoulders and joined Rake and Gisbo beyond the double doors, leaving Rolce, Grandfield, Whip, Niffin, an unconscious Crass, and Glinda speechless. The silence, it was so discomforting, so . . .

CRISSHH!!!

Everyone spun about toward the source of the noise to see Grandfield, holding a freshly opened beer can with foam pouring down the sides.

“What?” Grandfield asked, as he raised the can to his lips, and tipped the warm beer back without remorse.

When Gisbo awoke, he had the odd sensation that he was floating. It was peaceful, but only for a moment as a sudden burning, digging sensation in his wrists became apparent. He went to scratch at his right wrist, only to realize he couldn’t. Ropes bound both of his wrists, and he was dangling thirty feet above a dark, seemingly bottomless pit.

“What, what the hell?” Gisbo asked groggily.

“For one so full of shit, it’s amazing the ropes haven’t snapped.” A familiar voice from below said. Gisbo looked down to see Rake, and Jackobi standing around the rim of the pit.

“Huh?” Gisbo asked, blinking furiously.

“Any idea what’s below you?” Jackobi asked.

“Well, as far as I can tell, a black pit and a couple of asshole friends?” Gisbo snapped. “Get me down!”

“For one so full of doubt, you said that pretty confidently.” Rake said.

“And what the hell is with you and these shit jokes all of a sudden, Rake?” Gisbo asked.

“We are on Daresnap Isle, located a ways away from the place that the Strife’s call home. Below you is the entrance to the infamous Glaknabrade prison, or rather, what’s left of it. The Strife’s, low on morale, have banded together, walling themselves in their home, and left this place and its remaining prisoners to their own devices, and madness.

Since then, this place has become a homing beacon and a birthing ground for some of the worst Drakelings imaginable. Here, rumored to be the very birthplace of the Dragon itself, they devour one another, becoming better than the sum of their parts, to possibly, rise to the level of a Drakeknight, naturally, if you could call it that, beyond Drakearon’s encouragement, only leaving when they receive an order to retrieve a lost sheep or two from Drakearon’s flock.” Jackobi said.

“That’s nice and all, but, why am I hanging over it?” Gisbo asked.

“Simple. We’re making their lives easier. We’re bringing the lost sheep, to them,” Rake said.

“WHAT!?” Gisbo yelled, shaking desperately at his ropes.

“This is what is called tough love, Gisbo. The world is too dark a place now for someone with your potential to do nothing but drown in liquor, vaginas, and self-pity. Remember our promise, Gisbo? When one of us crosses the line? I’m fulfilling my end of the deal . . .” Rake said.

“This, THIS ISN’T WHAT I MEANT!” Gisbo yelled, shaking at his binds.

“But it’s what I meant. Due to that mark on your head, you will be like a torch in the night. The Drakes down there, and across this island will sense you, smell you, and they will attack. If you wish to survive, and escape this island, you must remove all doubt. You, and you alone, must find a reason to live again. If you don’t, you’ll die, or worse, end up as Drakearon’s lap dog. Really, it’s quite simple when you think about it.” Rake said, folding his arms.

“This isn’t simple, it’s insane! This is . . .” Gisbo started.

“Extreme? Yes, with such extreme pain and sorrow haunting you, it will take equally extreme measures to heal you. Gisbo, I’ve never seen you back down from a challenge in your life. Right here, right now, you need to decide who you are. Are you Gisbo Falcon, Renegade, Man-Phoenix? Or are you Gisbo Falcon, Mopey, Pussy Ass Bitch?” Jackobi asked, with a snide smile. In that moment, he was Foxblade Dreadka, returned from the grave.

Gisbo’s eyes narrowed onto Jackobi.

“See? There! There it is! That’s the look! You’re still in there somewhere, I know it. No one beyond salvation stares into the void of Drakearon’s influence, every day, and says, ‘no’.” Jackobi said.

Gisbo thought about that.

“All of us have a hole inside, and we all try to fill it with something of our choosing, but we’re different, Gisbo. We’re killers. For people like us, we don’t get to choose. That dark part of us, the beast inside fills that emptiness right up. The best we can do is throw them a few scraps every now and then, to keep them there. That is our struggle, that is our battle, but it allows us to carry a little darkness on our backs so that others don’t have to.

We need you. This world needs you. This island? It will be your therapy. This is how you’ll come back. Holding all that anger, all that guilt, all that pressure? This place will help get rid of it, give you some breathing room. What you’ve seen has changed you. Talking it out won’t help you right now, later maybe, but not now. You need action, you need to cut loose, and luckily there are plenty of things here ready to take it, and no innocents for miles around. To kill these Drakelings, these once former people, would be a mercy. They’ll thank you in the afterlife.

It’s time to face what you’ve become, and to leave this island, it will require not some of what you are, not most of what you are . . . it will require all that you are . . .” Jackobi said.

“Please, just one drink? One drink before . . .” Gisbo begged.

“The drink, or the dream? You’ve lost your dream, so, you replaced it with drink. The answer is no. Good luck, Gisbo. Here’s a parting gift. You can make it up to me later.” Jackobi said, and with a thrown, sharpened star, one of the ropes snapped and left Gisbo swinging only by his left arm.

“Whoa! Whoa! Hold on you guys! Rake, Rake buddy! Please, come on, you’re gonna let him do this to me?” Gisbo asked.

“He’s your Sentry right? Guardian knows best.” Rake said, turning around for one last look.

“We can’t force you to get better, Gisbo. Only you can do that. I’m a naturalist. Only the strong survive. You’re now a part of this island’s eco-system. Only the environment can save you now.” Jackobi said.

“Save me!? It’s going to kill me!” Gisbo screamed.

“Only if you let it. If you can survive this, face what Drakearon did to you, then Gisbo? There’s nothing on Thera that will be able to stop you, except, of course, me.” Jackobi said with a cocky wink.

And with that, the two Shininjas left a cursing Gisbo, hanging and swinging like a morsel of meat, a treat, for the malformed, hungry offspring of Drakearon below.

“Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” Rake asked Jackobi as they arrived on the shore of the beach, trying to ignore the terrifying chitters and chatters, and shrieks and roars behind them.

“Right? There’s nothing right about this, but I have my orders from something, something I both understand, and don’t understand. It seems, my role of Sentry, is not yet over . . .” Jackobi said.

“Whose orders?” Rake asked.

“Someone I can’t not listen too. The Drakes aren’t the only things on this island. Something else is here, something, Gisbo needs, something only he can use.” Jackobi said.

“Really?” Rake asked.

“Something that will finally allow him to use the powers of the Phoenix, and become who he was born to be.” Jackobi said.

“And how is he going to learn to use such power? Who’s going to teach him?” Rake asked. Jackobi only smiled and looked up into the sky.

“We’ll have to wait and see,” Jack said. “Ready?”

“Why did we walk all the way out here? We could have teleported an hour ago.” Rake said.

“Now we can, we’re far enough, but if we did while still on the island, it would have given the Drakelings another trail of power to pursue besides Gisbo’s. No, my authority won’t let me. It wants the whole island after him.” Jackobi said.

“Seriously? I’m all for tough love, but . . .” Rake started.

“This authority, it knows him better than I do. It knows what he can take,” Jackobi said.

“Why do I feel as if you’re not going to mention anything more?” Rake asked.

“Because, you’re right,” Jackobi said, and with that, they both vanished leaving a black, webbed crater in their absence.

Chapter Three: Natural Selection

Gisbo continued to hang from his sole suspended rope, not even bothering to shake himself free. The skin on his left hand had begun to heal over the frayed rope. Any more shaking and it would rip free and more blood would drip down and splash into his eyes, and shaking, is the one thing he couldn’t help but do.

Booze, every night, for the past three years, had made it a requirement just for Gisbo’s body to even function properly. Without it, withdrawal set in, and he became prone to shaking, and nausea, but worst of all, the terror of his memories.

“Damn you all . . .” Gisbo said, his head a chorus of hammer falls, echoing from his off queue heartbeat. Never had he been this long without a drink. With no alcohol to hold the memories back, he would have to close his eyes eventually, and then, they would come rushing at his mind’s eye like a broken floodgate.

“Please, PLEASE!” Gisbo screamed, biting his tongue by mistake, and filling his mouth with a metallic, spoiled milk taste. It was the taste of blood tainted by Drakeness, a taste he didn’t think he would ever get used to. He couldn’t help it, his body began to convulse again, bursting open his wounds once more.

“GRAH! Damn, it, why . . . why . . .” Gisbo moaned when suddenly, there was a grating growl from below.

Gisbo looked down to see two white orbs, pacing around the pit, staring up at him. When Gisbo squinted, he could see it was a panther-like Drakeling, which was suddenly joined by three other glistening black creatures, all with the same glowing dead moon eyes. One looked like some form of mutated black dairy cow with giraffe like-legs that moved more insect-like than mammal. The other was a pig-like creature with a huge crocodile mouth along with an odd mix of animal parts that forced him to drag the nether portion of its body around. Gisbo blinked, and it seemed more had appeared. Some hissed, some growled, some screeched, and Gisbo felt his forehead get hot, and begin to glow.

Suddenly, the panther Drake jumped up with a violent roar and took a swipe at him. Gisbo managed to lift up his legs just in time, and the panther landed gracefully on the other side of the pit. Unfortunately, the cow-like Drakeling was not so fortunate. It had followed the panther and had fallen down into the pit, mooing all the way down and disappearing into the blackness.

“Not like this, no way in hell am I going, like this . . .” Gisbo growled. “No way in . . . GRAH!!!”