Renegade Rupture (32 page)

“Hmph,” Gisbo said. “It’s pretty damn hot out here. Tone it down a bit.”

“Right away,” Shax said as clouds moved in to block out the scorching sun. “Now, the quickdraw event was inspired by these gunslingers. They would use an explosive weapon known as a firearm and face off across from each other in duels to the death over pride, wealth, fame, everything and anything. Long ago, in the early years of the Elekai’ exhibition, Chieftain Westwood was rather obsessed with such stories and, as his right as Renegade Chieftain, created the quickdraw event with rather . . . disastrous results.”

“Disastrous?” Gisbo asked.

“Half the contestants died,” Shax said.

“Cripes,” Gisbo said.

“As we said, this is Narroway’s attempt at a pre-emptive strike. Foxblade and Jackobi will no doubt be chosen and come to victory, taking out two Strifes. We seek to eliminate their major pieces early, giving us better chances for victory later. Should an all-out battle erupt at the tournament’s climax, we will have the advantage and may be able to erase the Strife threat once and for all,” Shax said. “All while trying to keep the peace until then, of course. Now, ten yards apart, both of you.”

“Um, hello, dumbass at math here,” Gisbo said. Shax created a glowing line in the sand for Gisbo to stand on.

“Thanks!” Gisbo said as he and Falcon made their way apart and stood on their lines.

“What now? Do you say go or something?” Gisbo asked.

“Nope,” Shax said.

“No?” Gisbo asked.

“Once you stood your ground apart from each other, the duel began. The tournament will be a bit different, but this is survival training. Each of you are free to move first . . . or last . . .” Shax said. “Enjoy!”

Gisbo’s hand hovered over the hilt of his right Tanto and looked across at Falcon, whose hand dangled over his shoulder where the handle of his Talon sword stuck up, ready to grasp it and whip it down, throwing it like a gigantic boomerang. Neither of them moved as they studied each other.

This is absolutely nerve-wracking,
Gisbo thought. He let out a nervous breath and felt a bead of sweat break from his forehead and drip down the side of his face. Falcon’s hand moved, but not the way Gisbo expected. It thrust out straight, and before Gisbo could react, a rope-like energy stretched from Falcon’s ringed finger and attached to Gisbo’s right Tanto. A moment later, Falcon jerked Gisbo’s weapon from its sheath.

“DAMN IT!” Gisbo yelled in frustration before his instincts kicked in. He dropped his left hand down to his left Tanto, ignited it, and tossed it at his Class Master before Gisbo’s right Tanto returned to Falcon’s open hand.

Come on, come on, hit him!
Gisbo thought. He watched the blade getting closer and closer before Falcon could mount a defense when Gisbo realized he didn’t need to. With a flick of Falcon’s wrist, as if controlling a whip, Falcon brought Gisbo’s stolen blade down on top of his advancing blade. With a clang and a spark, both blades fell to the ground. Once they hit the ground, Falcon released his control over Gisbo’s blade, leaving it on the ground. He reached up for his own weapon, grabbed it, and flung it forward with a grunt.

Gisbo smiled to himself, reveling in the intense moment and savoring how his battle instincts, thanks to Foxblade’s training, were taking over. Without one ounce of panic, Gisbo ignited both of his rings and took control of his downed weapons, turning them into dual fire whips. With one in each hand, Gisbo spun and jerked his weapons back, then threw them above Falcon’s spinning blade, knowing that his Class Master would get hit first. Victory was his, or so he thought . . .

In a last ditch effort, Falcon stretched forward his hand and tilted his blade upward, changing his spinning blade from offense to defense as the blade deflected both of Gisbo’s daggers deep into the sand. Then it rewrote its flight path and cleaved a defenseless Gisbo in two. Upon impact, the world faded.

Gisbo fell to the ground in the forest, yelling and feeling himself all over, thankful to be in one piece.

“HOLY! I . . . JEESH!” Gisbo said. Falcon smiled.

“Gisbo, I was not expecting that! Where did you learn to think on your feet like that? Not from me; you nearly beat me,” Falcon said.

“Tall, dark, and moody,” Gisbo said.

“Foxblade? Is that so?” Falcon asked.

“Again! You’re going down this time,” Gisbo said.

“Not until I get my turn!” Rolce said.

“Fine, me and you then!” Gisbo said.

“You’re on,” Rolce said, smiling.

“We’ll all have our turns. We do this until both you and Shax can do it no more, agreed?” Falcon asked.

“Agreed,” Rolce and Shax said together.

“Let’s get started,” Falcon said, grinning with anticipation.

For five days, synergy senior and synergy junior practiced until their reflexes hardened and an opponent across from them felt as lifeless as a tree. The time had come to try out and show their stuff to see who would be chosen as the final four in the last event before the Battle Royal and the seemingly unstoppable war between the Renegades and Strifes.

With full training gear and armor equipped, all contestants went into an event style where their talents were judged. After everyone showed their worth, Narroway stood up with the official list of Heaven’s Shelter’s quickest killers and posted it for all to see. The list went as follows:

Foxblade Dredka, Shaved Davinson, Falcon Vadid, and Gisbo Falcon.

“Why the hell are you on the list, Gisbo, and not me?” Grandfield asked in a huff with his arms folded.

“’Cause you suck?” Gisbo said.

“Ah, screw it. These types of events are for twiggy speedsters, AKA not me, nor you, kid. Power wins in the end! It always does,” Gilfrid said.

“If power were all, the tiger would not fear the scorpion,” Foxblade said. Gilfrid spun around.

“And what cleft asshole did you pull that gem from?” Gilfrid asked.

“Fortune cookie,” Foxblade said. “And if power always wins, you must have lacked severely in your last bout considering you lost consciousness and . . .”

“Ok, ok, enough! Psh, come on, boy. Let’s get out of here. I’m buyin’ you a beer,” Gilfrid said.

“Yeah . . . YEAH! You lightweights have fun throwing things at each other, losers,” Grandfield said.

“They’re funny,” Gisbo said.

“As well as incorrect,” Jackobi said.

“Gisbo I can understand; I trained him myself and he dropped the boat oar as a weapon, but you, Falcon? I cannot fathom,” Foxblade said.

“Former Elekai’ Exhibition Champion! Do you have a tattoo on your arm like, ohhhh, wait, no, no, you don’t,” Falcon said smiling, pointing to the one and only championship tattoo branded this generation on his arm. Foxblade glared at him and didn’t respond. He only walked away.

“I sort of wish this were like the old days, Renegade against Renegade. I’d love to go at it with him again,” Falcon said.

“Did you last time?” Gisbo asked.

“Yup,” Falcon said.

“And?” Jackobi asked.

“Ask him about it,” Falcon grinned.

“So you beat him? How?” Gisbo asked.

“By doing the unexpected,” Falcon said. “I prepared.”

“Say what? But you never prepare for anything!” Gisbo said.

“Exactly,” Falcon said.

“He put a laxative in Foxblade’s water flask before the match,” Jackobi muttered.

“So you cheated? Hah! No, no way,” Gisbo said as he burst out in hysterical laughter.

“Don’t say that too loud. He gets embarrassed,” Falcon said. “But, oh damn, you should have seen it. He just leaped off the stage out of nowhere and eliminated himself. It was great; he never heard the end of it and has been waiting for this tournament again, preparing, possibly just to not go mad!”

Gisbo recalled Foxblade’s private training grounds and the cuts across his skin and shuddered.

“But, unfortunately, this tournament is under different circumstances now. Just be glad tall, dark, and moody is on our side. Still, I’d love to see him jump off that stage grabbing his boney ass again. Oh, what would I give,” Falcon said.

Jackobi offered a rare laugh and then looked up, embarrassed.

“Don’t ever tell him I just, you know,” Jackobi stopped, unable to say the word. Falcon planted a hand on his shoulder.

“Secret’s safe with us, but for how long is up to you,” Falcon said.

“What? Are you, are you blackmailing me?” Jackobi asked.

“Nah, that’s what Shininjas do,” Falcon said.

“And what do Berserkers do?” Jackobi asked.

“They improvise. I’ll think of something, don’t you worry,” Falcon said, grinning. Jackobi looked to Gisbo for support and got none.

“Well, that’s one name I didn’t expect to see,” Shaved said as he stepped forward to inspect the list.

“Dude, you’re a Shininja! Of course you’re on the list!” Gisbo said.

“I was actually talking about you,” Shaved said, grinning.

“Jerk,” Gisbo said.

“Come on, let’s get the gang together to help us practice as much as we can until it’s time,” Shave said.

“Sounds good to me,” Gisbo said.

“Jackobi and I will grab Niffin. She said she’d help us train. You go ahead and grab Rake because you’re the only one he’ll really talk to for some reason,” Shaved said. “Why? If you don’t mind me asking?”

“Hell if I know?” Gisbo said, shrugging. “But wait, Shaved, I got a better idea. Whatever you’ve been doing to practice, you too, Jack, is nothing compared to training with Rolce.”

“But he didn’t make it,” Jack said.

“Of course not, he’s big and slow. Just trust me. I’ll go find them both; you guys meet at our tree house,” Gisbo said, running off without a look back.

“He’s so one track minded,” Shaved said, watching him run away.

“Which is why we need him. He’s stubborn as a brick once his mind is set on something,” Jack said.

“Hah, brick? Please. I’ve seen a brick shatter over that thing he calls a head. It didn’t stand a chance,” Shaved said. Jack smiled. “I’ve known of you for a while, but don’t think we’ve ever been officially introduced. Just call me Shaved. Any friend of Gisbo’s is a friend of mine.”

Shaved put out his hand as Jack stared at it, a little awkwardly.

“You’re supposed to shake it,” Shaved said.

“Oh, oh right, sorry, I just . . . yeah, I suppose I don’t get out too often,” Jack said as he shook Shaved’s hand.

“Me either, we’re Shininjas,” Shaved said with a smile. “If you don't mind me asking, how is he doing?”

“Gisbo?” Jackobi asked. His mind went to the premonition within Honj’s chamber.

“Yeah,” Shaved said.

“He’s fine,” Jackobi said.

“That’s good to hear. You know, when I first came here, besides Grandfield, Gisbo was the first friend I ever had. Do me a favor; as his synergy mate, look after him. He’s a good guy, and he’s been through hell lately,” Shaved said.

“If only I had a choice in the matter,” Jackobi said, fighting back a grin.

“Come on, we’ll talk and walk. I hate to waste time,” Shaved said. Jackobi’s eyebrows rose.

“Me too,” Jackobi said, smiling.

Shaved smiled as he started to walk. Jackobi stood there for a moment, looking at Shaved, then back at his own hand.

“First friend . . . hm,” Jackobi muttered to himself.

“Coming?” Shaved asked, turning around.

“Right behind you,” Jack said, going to force a smile, only realizing that he actually didn’t need to.

Chapter Twenty Three:
The Soarian Event

“I’m surprised you didn’t make it,” Gisbo said.

“Uh, do tell me, Gisbo. How is a whip at all helpful in a throwing contest?” Kennis asked.

“Oh, yeah, right,” Gisbo said.

“Listen to that crowd! Are you sure you’re ready?” Kennis asked.

“Even if I wasn’t, I can’t do much about it now,” Gisbo said.

“Gisbo, I’m sorry. I was so wrong to doubt you. This time, I know you’ll come back to me,” Kennis said as she leaned in and kissed Gisbo. Gisbo turned a deep shade of red and felt his knees wobble. He stepped back and took a deep breath.

“Ugh, not cool,” Gisbo said.

“Go get ‘em! I’ll be up in the stands!” Kennis said. Gisbo turned to leave when he felt two arms wrap around him and a head lean against his shoulder.

“Wait,” Kennis said. Gisbo turned around to see her misty blue eyes water just a tad. “You do know, you do know that this could be the last time I talk to you. You could, you could . . .”

“I thought you just said . . .” Gisbo started.

“That doesn’t mean I still won’t worry! I just . . .” Kennis started.

Gisbo grabbed her shoulders and tilted her chin up, smiling. Too many times had she gotten her hopes up and seen them dashed. Shattered hope was the worst sort of pain, but when she met Gisbo’s eyes and saw that crazed, excited smile, she found herself smiling back and felt at ease.