Renegade Rupture (16 page)

“Thanks, I . . .” Rolce started, and then passed out completely, laying down on the bench.

“What, what just happened? The guy just ran out of the ring like a mad man! Right past Rolce! Rolce didn’t even power up his essence!” Kennis said.

“He looks pretty exhausted for someone who just stood there,” Knob said, folding his arms, puzzled.

“He must have used the Mind-Link on him, just like he did for us before the battle at Sandlake. I don’t know much about it, but I know it drains you. For a guy like Rolce to pass out, he must have projected quite an illusion,” Shaved said.

“Lamik must be pissssssed,” Knob cooed. “All easy street now!”

“Dunno about that,” Shaved said.

“That guy Tanjo had to be their most powerful, and we’ve still got Groggo intact!” Knob said. “Game over, man!”

“Then for a guy who should be as pissed as you say, why is he smiling?” Shaved asked. They all looked to see Lamik’s smile, as if he knew something that nobody else did. He threw his die and landed a three where Perry landed a five.

“Finally,” Perry said as he instructed Lamik to choose the fighter first. In a moment’s time, a tall man with a thin, grasshopper-like build strutted his way towards the middle.

“Grill Jaffrey,” Perry mumbled. “There is no need to deliberate. Groggo, you NEED to take this one.”

“I’m on it,” Groggo said.

“Groggo, watch this one. I don’t like the look on Lamik’s face,” Perry warned. “He’s up to something.”

“Pah,” Groggo said as he made his way into the ring.

“Go get ‘em, Dad!” Grandfield yelled. Groggo turned around to his son and gave him a thumbs up and a wink. Upon entering the arena, each man did the stomping ritual and planted their fists upon the ground.

“BEGIN!” Narroway yelled.

“RAGH!” Groggo screamed as he ignited his Flarian essence and flew at his opponent like a firestorm. Grill ignited his Aquarian essence and flew at Groggo just as fast, each with pulled back palms, set to strike like giant cobras. Blow for blow, the two men went at it, smacking away, each trying to find an opening. As they countered each other, Groggo was beginning to push Grill back with each strike.

“He’s doing it! GET ‘EM, DAD!” Grandfield yelled.

Strike after strike sent steam into the air as water crashed with fire, and roars from the crowd accompanied the crashes. Grill was nearing the edge of the ring.

“It’s been fun, but now it’s over, creepy!” Groggo yelled as he opened his arms, took several weak hits from Grill, and clapped his hands together, igniting his signature move, the crashing fire wave, and blowing Grill out of the ring. The man landed on his back with a thud as Groggo stood over him, still in the ring.

“Sorry, pal, nothing personal,” Groggo said.

“The victory is mine . . .” Grill said.

“Excuse me?” Groggo asked.

“Just what I said,” Grill said weakly, and suddenly, his body changed.

“What, what are you . . .” Groggo started.

“What you saw was my Boon form,” Grill said, his voice changing as he said it, and his body shrinking. Groggo noticed his stomach had a single puncture mark that bled around the edges.

“That’s right, you understand now, don’t you? It’s a deceptive, camouflaged form for assassination only. My boon is the rare Balloon Worm, capable of blowing itself up and molding the air within itself, and changing their colors, to take on the appearance of something larger, and nastier than their natural predators to protect themselves. I merely took over my Boon’s body with my ability, morphed it into someone else you’d recognize, and just laid hundreds of eggs within your body. You did not kill me, you killed my boon! By the time you get back to your bench, you will have enough time to maybe, possibly, say farewell to your son before the worms hatch and blow apart your arteries. Fare . . . well,” Grill said in a high pitched, squeaky voice. His human form twisted within itself and reverted back into a long, awful looking worm, dead.

Groggo stood, his face white as a ghost, his heart pumping hard as he looked at Lamik, standing among his team.

“Let’s face it, Groggo, there’s a war coming after these silly games. I’m preparing for that alone. My whole purpose in this fight was to find the most powerful among you, the tank, and kill him. Congratulations, old friend, you win the prize, and the Renegades lose a major power source,” Lamik said.

“I’ll, I’ll . . .” Groggo said.

“Uh, uh! I’d save what little time you have left to say goodbye to your son. Safe passage from this world,” Lamik said, smiling wickedly.

“You mean, you mean to tell me that I’ll never, never see my son again?” Groggo asked.

“Time’s a-wasting . . .” Lamik said.

Tears welled up in Groggo’s eyes. He turned to see his team, cheering, clueless as to what just happened. The world around him took on a different light as every step back, every second, felt like centuries in between. His son, who had cheered louder and harder than anyone present, with a giant smile on his face, hopped into the ring and ran out to meet him, wrapping him in a giant hug.

“DAD! Dad, you won! You won! It’s over! It’s . . . dad, you don’t need to cry,” Grandfield said, stepping back and looking at his father’s face.

“Son, I . . . I can’t find . . . I don’t know what to say,” Groggo said, tears streaming from his eyes as he shook and convulsed all over and collapsed to the ground.

“DAD!” Grandfield yelled.

Groggo grabbed his son by the hand and squeezed it tight.

“Look at me, boy, just look at me and be quiet. I love you, I love you more than anything in this world and you’ve made your dad so, SO proud. Whatever you choose to be with your life, please, just, no matter what, be one of the good guys. There’s not enough of ‘em in this world. You . . . you need to warn your friends, you need to tell them that . . . that . . .” Groggo started, only to have his mouth, eyes, and every orifice erupt with white, wriggling worms. His strong grasp went limp in his son’s hand, slid out, and fell to the granite floor.

“Grandfield! Grandfield!” Perry said as he spun the boy around and looked him in the face. Several Renegade medics arrived on the scene.

“Son, son, you look at me and you look at me now. Stay with me, STAY WITH ME!” Perry yelled, planting his hands on the side of Grandfield’s face. “I want you to stay right here, right now. I already rolled and won, I’m choosing you. Take this feeling, and end this, use it! For your father, for your home, for you! USE IT! Do you know what just happened? Do you? That man your father faced was not a man, but someone’s Boon. And that someone is standing in the ring, right now behind you! Your father was murdered by a cheap parlor trick! Behind you, right now, walking up to this stage is the man who did this. What you are about to do is kill that man! This is not vengeance, this is not revenge. This. Is. Justice! Do you understand me! KILL HIM!” Perry said.

Grandfield’s tears stopped pouring as he shook all over. His eyes stinging, his head on fire, he powered up his Flarian essence and screamed loudly, knocking Perry backward as he stormed over and walked up to his opponent.

Perry returned back to his line. “I knew you were the most powerful out of us, Grandfield, I knew you had that potential, but I never, never wanted you to bring it out in this way.”

Grandfield walked out to meet his opponent shaking all over, feeling his gut rot from within. His father’s murderer waited for him, standing, arms folded, looking at him the way someone looks at a pile of dung. The man was tall, big, chiseled as stone. His features were beyond impressive. He was handsome, he was strong, he had it all going for him.

“Pathetic, you and your father. The two of you. I HATE people like you. Lazy, fat storage facilities. There’s no excuse to be the way you are. Look at you, already sweating just from walking toward me. You are a hindrance to the environment, and everything around you. You’re disgusting; you’re pathetic. Look at me, boy, this takes hard work, something you have not known. I requested to take your father out with my Boon, and he died like the fat cow he is,” Rock Atasni said. “What say you, fat boy?”

Grandfield stood, quivering all over, his mouth quivering, too angry to even speak.

“Don’t mourn your fat father; you’ll be seeing him soon enough,” Rock said, cracking his neck.

“Son, I . . .” Narroway started.

“Just start the match,” Grandfield snapped as he made his way to his starting line.

Narroway stared at the boy walking away from him, feeling his rage, a rage that was no longer a boy’s, but a man’s.

“Fighters! Take your positions,” Narroway said. “If it’s all the same to you, any and all evil spirits be gone . . . BEGIN!”

There was a massive breaking sound, the sound an engine makes upon blowing a cylinder. Rock had enough time to take one step forward, only one, before Grandfield was on him, palm first, straight up into Rock’s chin, sending the man soaring upward like a loosed arrow.

In an amazing display of athleticism that should be impossible with a body such as Grandfield’s, he leapt up after not his opponent, but his prey. Grandfield grabbed Rock in mid-air by the throat with one hand and threw his other fist high up in the air, blasting Flarian essence from his ring and shooting them downward.

With a massive explosion, chunks of the ring flew out in all directions, along with a mist of red and gray dust obscuring everything in the arena. All that could be viewed was constant flashes of red light, followed by thundering booms mere milliseconds apart from one another.

The dust cleared, and Grandfield stood over the man, laying into him with unrelenting strike after strike, pushing Rock deeper and deeper into the ring. Louder than the strikes were Grandfield’s piercing cries and screams, pouring out the loss of his father, his best friend, his family, into his palms and then into Rock.

The crowd watched on, astonished, as little by little, Grandfield disappeared. With each strike, the two went farther and farther into the ring and still Grandfield kept going until dirt, rather than stone, sprayed out the top of the hole.

Then, suddenly, there was silence.

A few moments later, with much effort, Grandfield crawled out of the ring carrying a decrypt, biological mess no longer remotely recognizable. With one light toss, Grandfield tossed Rock’s remains out of the ring. Narroway called the fight in his favor. Rather than meet his friends or face a stunned into silence crowd, Grandfield leapt off the stage and left the arena without a word to anyone, giving the Renegade team their first victory, and claming the first slot in the Battle Royal, but at an immense cost.

Chapter Eleven:
The Problem with Fao

“He doesn’t want to talk to anyone, not even me,” Shaved said as he stepped out of his tree house, stepping around the dozens upon dozens of flower and fruit baskets.

“I figured as much. I just felt like we needed to try,” Gisbo said as Rolce and Jackobi both hung their heads.

“How is he?” Rolce asked.

“He hasn’t come out of his room, didn’t even go to the funeral,” Shaved said. “His dad, his dad was all he had, besides his, Uncle Morry.”

“This whole tournament, it just got real way too fast,” Gisbo said.

“He told me that this isn’t a tournament any longer. It’s only a precursor for what’s coming. Win or lose, this is going into a war, just like the last time, before we were born,” Shaved said, slumping down into his wicker chair.

“Then why don’t we just get it over with? Get everyone together, tonight, and go waste them all in their sleep!” Gisbo said, smacking his fist into his palm.

“Should the tournament end early, Narroway dies. We will not allow that.” Jackobi said.

“My dad said that an all out attack, right now, would be the death of us both. This tournament will continue, and that’s where we can change things,” Rolce said.

“How do you figure?” Shaved asked.

“By treating every match from here on out as a duel to the death, a chance to take out their major players, one by one,” Rolce said. “By doing that, we can greatly debilitate them. Once the peace treaty ends and this tournament is over, the blood pact between the two of them will cease, and we will come out on top if they have the guts to start a war,” Rolce said. “But that will come later. We will take time to plan our strategy over our next event. My father told me what Narroway has chosen; it’s the Naforian event.”

“Which is?” Gisbo asked.

“Boon battle. Matches strictly Boon against Boon, our inner selves, to see who comes out on top. It’s perfect; it gives us just the time we need,” Jackobi said.

“I don’t know about you all, but there’s no time like the present to start training. Me and Driver are going to train extra hard, for Grandfield, and for Groggo’s sake,” Shaved said.

“Same,” Gisbo said. “And you let Grandfield know that we’re always here for him.”

“He knows,” Shaved said.

Upon saying goodbye, Shaved walked inside and saw Grandfield sitting at the kitchen table, eyes swollen and bloodshot.

“How long have you been sitting there?” Shaved asked.

“Long enough,” Grandfield asked.