Renegade Rupture (24 page)

Two creatures of the night, mortal enemies, moving their arena to a whole new territory . . .

Sunlight.

The first to adapt to their surroundings would no doubt be the victor, and if anything, that’s what Whip was made for: adaptation.

“Whip Miles. We meet again. Have I not proved myself? I predicted we would do battle.” the Strife spoke. His age was clear, just by the tone. Like Whip, he was a new warrior, seeking to prove himself and chosen for a specific set of skills.

“Lucky guess,” Whip said cordially.

“What!? I . . . Fine, I’ll let this battle prove to you, and everyone here, my powers! I’ve prepared for you, this moment, everything. I’ve played out thousands of scenarios, and ten times out of ten, you have fallen to me. You, by far, are the weakest one of all,” the Strife said.

“Don’t throw numbers my way,” Whip said.

“Facts scare you, don’t they?” the Strife said.

“In the same way that a woman scares you? Probably,” Whip said.

“Witty banter. Sling your words, it’s all you have left,” the Strife said.

“What’s your name?” Whip asked.

“Why do you ask?” the Strife said.

“Call it a courtesy,” Whip said.

“The name’s Malfon Highstreak. Learn it well,” Malfon said.

“Malfon Highstreak? Good,” Whip said as he suddenly turned and began to walk away.

“Hold it!” Malfon snapped. “What was that about?”

“Oh, nothing; me to know, you to find out,” Whip said without turning back. Malfon looked at him, suddenly curious, then proceeded back to his starting line on Narroway’s order.

“Renegade, reveal your Boon!” Narroway said. Whip walked forward, and pulled Stewie free from his back, shredding the fibers of the back of his poncho from pulling his bat’s claws free.

“Hey, little buddy,” Whip said, scratching his Boon behind her twitching ears just as she liked, before placing her down. Across from him, Malfon did the same with his screech owl, its large, yellow, ball eyes staring.

“Why did you want to know my name?” Malfon asked.

“Just an ability of mine. I didn’t want to tell you this, but since you gave me your name, well, the match? It’s already over. You’ve lost,” Whip said. He turned around, leaving the boy in curious silence as he returned back to their line.

“Hah, a sad attempt to psyche me out,” Malfon said to himself as he stood ready and activated the Boon connection. Both fighters gave the ready signal and Narroway raised his hand, then hammered it down in a chopping motion.

“BEGIN!”

“Stewie! Here!” Whip ordered. Knowing that bats could not take off as birds could, he enveloped his bat in an energy cloud, snapped her back to his hands, then, threw her up.

“Farow! Give chase!” Malfon ordered.

Both bat and owl flew straight up into the air, and already, Stewie was on the defensive. Farow, the screech owl, had far more heft and speed than the brown flying rat. In a show of its power, Farow hoisted itself far above and beyond Stewie and darted downward, barely missing the bat. Whip only smiled.

“Atta girl,” Whip muttered.

The owl now had to regain its alignment and control from beneath the bat, which Whip had wanted all along. Now, the owl was helpless to defend itself.

“STEWIE! DO IT NOW!” Whip yelled, raising both of his arms.

The bat powered up a blue aura and with it, unleashed an attack that not only hindered the owl, but all within earshot. Stewie released a high pitched squeal, magnified by Whip’s essence.

All within earshot dropped to their knees and covered their ears, including Malfon. Only Whip stood, transfixed, as if listening and enjoying a beautiful symphony.

The owl fell from the blast of sound on its left foot, bounced unnaturally into a roll, and lay there, quivering upon the ground, as its Malfon grabbed at his own ears and pressed upon them hard, anything to cancel out the sound, and soon felt blood trickle down between his fingers. He fell to his knees, shutting his eyes in a wince. When the sound cleared, he opened up his eyes to see Whip, standing over him.

“My heritage is Aquarian, as I’m sure your research told you, and right now, you are at the full mercy of my aquatic abilities. Surrender,” Whip said.

“This, THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH WATER, IT . . .” Malfon started, when he puked out yellow bile, the only thing within his stomach.

“Ah, see, that’s where you’re wrong. Sure, I’m using sound, but as I need not tell you, the human body is eighty percent water. Right now, with mere sound alone, I’m causing your blood pressure to rise, the fluids in your stomach to churn over and crash, and in a sense, rendering you completely immobile. I was chosen for a reason. This isn’t fair, I admit. I’m sure you wanted an epic battle, but really, you were never worth my time. I am the only one who can appreciate the beauty of Stewie’s melody. In a normal fight, it empowers me, while it cripples you. You never had a chance,” Whip said.

“Why, why did you want to know my name?” Malfon asked.

“All right, Stewie, that’s enough. This match is over,” Whip said, ignoring the question. Narroway called the match in favor of Whip, but no one cheered, only upchucked their lunches and leaned over each other in need of support.

“Whew, I’m done. I can be myself again. I knew of your ability from the moment you showed yourself to Gisbo and me. That was your mistake,” Whip said.

“My mistake?” Malfon asked. “Tell me! Why? Why did you want to know my name!?”

“You came to us, bragging of your psychic abilities, an ability long steeped in mistrust. You’ve probably spent your whole life trying to prove yourself to others, rather than yourself, and that is why I beat you. I have abilities of my own. I have super hearing and knew you weren’t lying. Your heart didn’t skip once. I made you angry, making you wanting to not only prove yourself to the masses, but to me as well. I knew you would try to give the crowd a show, but could judge by your body language from before, when you read Gisbo’s mind, that you require complete focus. I used your own game against you. You may have been planning psychic warfare, an ability you were no doubt born with, but I put my faith in something else. Psychological warfare, the power of observation, given to me by my enhanced senses. There was never any power in knowing your name. Zilch. Nada. I only needed you to hesitate for a second, just a moment. That’s all, and when you did, you walked right into my trap. Our match did not begin here. It started way back on the night we first met, when your insecurities got the best of you,” Whip said. “Never fight for the respect of others when you don’t even respect yourself.”

With that, Whip with his bat on his shoulder, cocked his head to face her, only to watch as she scampered down his arm, then around his back under the darkness of his cape for a well deserved rest.

“Good girl,” Whip said as he returned to his teammates, just now able to rise onto shaky feet.

“Whip?” Gisbo said.

“Yeah?” Whip asked.

“You’re a bastard,” Gisbo said.

Chapter Seventeen:
Love Never Dies

“A six for the Strifes, and a one for the Renegades. Strifes, what is your decision?” Narroway asked.

“We pass,” Lamik said.

“Renegades, make your decision!”

“Well? Me or the kid,” Dave asked, motioning to Gisbo.

“We have a chance to win this, right now. We need just one more point. It’s best that we put forth our best. Sorry, Gisbo. No offense,” Perry said. Gisbo looked at the sleeping bear.

“Believe me, none taken,” Gisbo said.

“Dave, wake up your bear and . . .” Perry said, but the bear was up, standing on all fours. The bear’s cuddly, lazy features vanished, and in its place was a terrifying monster. The bear sniffed the air, sensing something, and bellowed out a low, belly growl.

“What’s, what’s with him?” Gisbo asked.

“Seems like a Strife’s a little over eager,” Dave said. “Someone’s powered up their essence, already established a link. Slumby here doesn’t like the way it feels.”

“Who is it?” Whip asked.

“Boys, I’ll be seeing ya,” Dave said as the bear, without orders, stepped onto the ring and walked forward, only falling on its four legs once it reached the starting line.

“What’s going on?” Gisbo asked.

“A power that hasn’t been released since the last time the Renegades and Strifes fought each other,” Perry said. “They were wise to hide his energy until now.”

Dave stood watching a man vacate the veil of his past and break into the present. Dave figured over the many, long years that the anger would subside, calm, and it did. Ask anyone who the most cheerful, laid back guy in Heaven’s Shelter was and, without a pause, Dave’s name was mentioned. But that wasn’t always the case. . .

“Look at him, stiff as a board out there. I’ve never seen him like that; he’s positively ready to throw down!” Gisbo said, slight worry to his voice.

The Strife challenger took his place across from Dave, or rather, was wheeled into place. For the traditional pre-fight banter, Dave was out of jokes, out of his normal state of mind. The Strife seated before him was tall, lanky, and covered in liver spots. He wore thick, black-rimmed glasses that perched atop a long, hooked nose,. On top of it all, the man was old, ancient really, and hunched.

“Your bear looks lively,” the Strife said with the zeal of a much younger man. The bear snarled and roared, baring all its teeth and spraying saliva.

“It’s true what they say: the good die young, and pricks live forever,” Dave said, in a thundering voice that matched the bear’s.

“Who’s that old guy?” Whip asked.

Perry took a quick glance up into the stands and saw the look of dismay upon a certain green-eyed Renegade. Shaved Davinson sat beside Grandfield and Knob, his fists clenched. “Keith Drinsley. The only person in this world to make our dear Dave . . . volatile.”

“Volatile?” Gisbo asked.

“Has Shaved ever talked about his mother to you?” Perry asked.

Whip and Gisbo looked at one another.

“I thought not. Keith Drinsley was the most brilliant scientist of his day in the field of biology; Boons, to be exact. Have you ever heard the saying ‘there is a fine line between genius and insanity’?” Perry asked.

“No,” Gisbo said.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Perry said.

“Hey!” Gisbo said as Whip snickered.

“Anyway, now you have. The man you see before you may be chair-bound, but his mind is the most dangerous and crazed I’ve ever known. That’s why he studied Boons. They could do what he no longer could, and because of that, he poured all the training that we take for granted into his Boon, leaving that creature one of the most powerful things upon Thera. He’s obsessive; he knows no bounds. Unfortunately for Dave, Keith had another obsession. Call it a tarnished mind where loneliness graces it like a tight cap. He saw something in Dave’s wife, something he could not have.

“It started as a slight amusement. Dave’s wife, Eleanor, was a woman to behold. Beauty and kindness interwoven, forming her from the ground up. To gain funds for his research, Keith Drinsley opened a book store and sold old, rare books. He was a mad collector, and Eleanor was a voracious reader. It started harmlessly enough. Eleanor would browse Keith’s shop. They would talk about the classics, then she would be on her way. Next it got a little personal, as she discovered more about the old man. No one had ever loved him, except his mother, and Eleanor reminded him of her. With every visit, every encounter, he would get closer and closer, grab a hand here, touch her waist there, to the point that Eleanor told the old man she was married, accounted for, and deeply in love.

“She figured that would halt his pursuit. On the contrary,. Now, she was forbidden to him, which only increased his pursuit. Dave himself interfered, warned him once, in that thunderous voice of his, to never, ever speak to his wife again.

“As you can gather, the man didn’t listen, and kept it up, driving poor Dave mad. Keith sent love letters, spied on her as she walked, until, finally, Dave hit a breaking point. He broke the man’s spine in a fury, crippling him, thus creating the monster that is now channeled directly into that Boon you see, and it was that Boon that attacked, and killed, Dave’s wife, Eleanor. By Keith’s reasoning, if he couldn’t have her, no one would,” Perry said.

“But the Strifes, they, they would never put up with a guy like Keith! If he is that bad of a guy and joined with the Strifes, why keep him around?” Gisbo asked.

“Simple. The Strifes need him. His genius knows no bounds. He has an eidetic memory. He is a living record keeper of strengths and weaknesses throughout all of Heaven’s Shelter. That is why he lives, and to this day, he damns the Renegades, and Dave’s name,” Perry said.

“And Dave, Dave’s going to . . . fight that?” Gisbo asked.

“He’s the only one who can,” Perry said.

“Why?” Whip asked.

“That damned honey badger of Keith’s is notoriously the most tenacious, fiercest beast in the animal kingdom. It does not stop. It will not quit. It is obsessive once it grasps onto something. It’s even known to use tools in the wild to get what it wants. Sound familiar? This thing, it’s relentless and lives a life of seclusion within dark holes, and sometimes even invades the holes of other species if they have something it wants. I don’t know of a better characterization for this awful man. In the Renegade/Strife War, this honey badger killed many of the biggest, toughest men we had to offer. Do not doubt it. It was made to be underestimated and can overwhelm and tire the biggest of foes,” Perry said gravely.