Renegade Rupture (46 page)

Falcon stood over him, frozen, mind racing, unable to say a thing until he felt his son’s hand upon his shoulder.

“Dad, it’s true, what he said. He told me . . . everything. He showed me everything. I . . . I . . . ungh,” Gisbo started, grabbing his arm. It rang with fire and pain he hadn’t felt before, and the pain quickly moved toward his chest. Gisbo coughed fiercely, revealing black bile intertwined with spots of blood. “What’s . . . what’s happening? What . . .”

Gisbo fell, unconscious, as his father caught him.

“I can’t ever seem to get away from this place . . .” Gisbo muttered to himself. Upon awakening, he recognized Heaven Shelter’s Hospital, where Kinny still slumbered, as well as his cousin Ranto. Gisbo went to get up, only to feel a searing pain shoot through his side and climb up to his temple. With a yell, he collapsed back into the bed.

“Cripes . . . what the,” Gisbo started. He saw the source of the pain: four long, white scars, one over each of his kidneys, one across his stomach, and one crossing his left pectoral.

“Well, that certainly didn’t take long. I sent everyone out only an hour ago to let you sleep,” Kalloway said, peeking through the door. “It’s hard to predict the speed of the Drakeness healing factor.”

“What, what happened?” Gisbo asked, looking down at his scars.

“Hard to say really, other than that your internal organs, most of the important ones, decided to . . . break down,” Kalloway said.

“Excuse me?” Gisbo asked.

“It’s hard to pin-point the exact cause. You want my theory? I believe that it’s something to do with your body adjusting to the Drakeness within you, along with the Phoenix power. Your body was constantly battling with itself, trying to find balance, but once it did, your organs, they were so strained from working so hard that they just, hardened up. Your kidneys, your heart, and a host of other things just stopped functioning. Your appendix nearly burst as well! The Drakeness kept you alive long enough for your father to get you here and, Gisbo, you really shouldn’t be alive right now . . .” Kalloway said, dropping her professional tone as tears welled up.

“I . . .” Gisbo stammered.

“It was, it was a miracle that saved you,” Kalloway said.

“I don’t understand,” Gisbo said.

“I told you, your organs became useless. They had to go, and they needed replacements. But replacements that your body would accept are rare. If you rejected them, you would surely die. Here, along each of these,” Kalloway said, tracing her finger along Gisbo’s scars, “are pieces of your friend’s life.”

“You mean, you mean . . .” Gisbo started, now feeling tears coming on, understanding.

“Yes, your friend Shaved, his remains . . . they were a perfect match. Your body has settled past the shock and found balance. It won’t happen again,” Kalloway said.

“You’re saying that what was left of Shaved now, lives on . . . in me?” Gisbo said, placing a hand over his new heart.

“That’s correct,” Kalloway said.

“Shaved . . . he was a far better man than I’ll ever be, ever become,” Gisbo said, tears coming to his eyes. Vice Dastard’s conversation popped into his mind, saying that Shaved had to die, saying that, in another life, he had failed in his mission; this current timeline, his timeline, was their last chance. A new chance . . .

“If he didn’t die, then would I not have been able to stop him? Stop Drakearon in this life? Did he do what was necessary to save me? To save this world? No . . . NO! It’s my life, my life, damn it! I make the calls, I make the shots! MINE! I’ll stop him; I’ll stop him on my own terms!” Gisbo yelled.

“Excuse me? Gisbo, what are you saying?” Kalloway asked.

“I . . . ” Gisbo started. The door opened. Gisbo saw a white-faced Kennis standing there, wearing a blue sun dress, looking more beautiful than ever.

“Kennis . . .” Gisbo started. Kennis said nothing, only bounded across the room and embraced Gisbo. “I didn’t, I didn’t write that, I was forced to, I was forced to . . .”

“Shhh, I know. None of that matters now,” Kennis said.

“I think . . . I think I’ll leave you two alone,” Kalloway said.

“It’s . . . so hard to believe,” Falcon said. “You didn’t . . . Are you sure that’s what he told you?”

“That’s something I could never forget,” Gisbo said as he sat on Falcon’s front porch, looking out across Nora Pond.

“Then he wasn’t responsible . . . for any of it. This, this Goat Man. I’ve never seen him, nor heard of him. I don’t like this; this is too much,” Falcon said.

Gisbo said nothing.

“I killed him. All this rage, all this . . . pain over the years and it was all misguided, wrong. You mean to tell me there was another time, another life, where Nora, you, and I were a complete family? That you weren’t sent to Oak County? Have people from the future come back here to manipulate us against our own will? Is our will the same as our future selves? This is,” Falcon started.

“That doesn’t matter,” Gisbo said as he picked up a rock and flung it into the pond. Falcon looked at him oddly.

“I did that. I made the decision to pick up that rock and throw it and disturb that peaceful pond. Me. Not Vice Dastard, not this Goat Man, not Drakearon, me, Gisbo Falcon. My life is mine. Without free will, what do we have? Nothing, no love, no pain, no feeling . . . no choice. I refuse to believe that, any of it. No one controls my life, no one but me. I am a Renegade, my path is my own to choose, my own to walk, my own to forge, and ain’t nobody getting in the way of that,” Gisbo said with startling passion. Falcon’s dead cigar rolled out of his mouth.

For a brief and sudden instant, the voice, mannerisms, body language, everything was Vadid the Valiant incarnate. He dare not bring it up, dare not say a word about it, but one thing was still missing.

“Son, you’ve grown up,” Falcon said.

“Well, it had to happen eventually,” Gisbo said.

“Vadid’s necklace I gave you, where is it?” Falcon asked.

“Oh, um, not that I don’t like it, it just . . . Lately it sort of digs into my neck and chest and bothers me. It,” Gisbo started.

“Could you wear it? For me?” Falcon asked.

“I . . .” Gisbo started.

“Please?” Falcon asked.

“Yeah, all right, I will. I guess I’ll get used to it, if Vadid did,” Gisbo said. Falcon smiled and smacked Gisbo’s back.

“I only ask because it was around my neck when I won the Elekai’ Exhibition. Narroway’s already informed me of the roster. You and Jackobi will represent the Renegades in the Battle Royal against two, as of yet, unknown Strifes. He wanted me to tell you, and as your father, it would do me so proud, your mother and your grandfather as well, to see that necklace around your neck when Narroway raises your hand in victory,” Falcon said.

“Me, representing the Renegades? But even if we do win,” Gisbo started.

“We will,” Falcon said.

“Fine, when we do win, what happens afterwards? Is there a plan?” Gisbo said.

“The peace treaty that binds both Lamik and Narroway’s life-force will stay put until that Chief’s band gets placed upon another’s forehead. Once that happens, anything can happen. We will watch what Lamik will do. We will have the best of the best of assassins’ eyes upon him at all times. If he moves against us, it will be the last decision he will make. With Lamik dead first, and with your victory in the ring, their morale will die. They will be fish in a barrel, and victory will be ours, along with another generation of wonderful peace, a grand age that will be decided by you and Jackobi and the rest of your generation. You will both decide upon a new leader for us, or take the band yourselves. Whatever you choose will be the right decision,” Falcon asked.

“Could I choose you?” Gisbo asked us. Falcon smiled.

“Absolutely not,” Falcon said.

“But it’s my decision,” Gisbo said.

“That’s true, but . . . son, I’m no leader. It’d be a death sentence for your old man! You do love me, don’t you?” Falcon asked.

“Eh, guess we’ll just have to see who I choose then,” Gisbo said.

“Son, I’m so proud of you,” Falcon said.

“Thanks, Dad,” Gisbo said.

“No, that’s something my dad never told me. Maybe, maybe that’s why I’ve needed to prove myself. Just know, in my eyes, you have nothing to prove,” Falcon said. “Now, for the final fight, I believe it’s time you and I work together. One champion to another. I’m not going to show you how to fight fair. I’m not going to show you how to be honorable. I’m going to show you how to win, and with your victory comes an age of peace like none we’ve ever seen,” Falcon said, taking up a fighting stance. Gisbo got up and did the same, and they began pacing.

“Hmph, I can’t seem to find an opening,” Falcon said.

“Because I’m not giving you one,” Gisbo said. Falcon watched Gisbo hold his arms like his, yet his legs moved like Foxblade’s. He couldn’t help but pause for a moment and smile, only to be hammered in the side of the face from a rising fist that came out of nowhere.

“Oh, jeesh, DAD!” Gisbo yelled.

Falcon went down hard and rolled, resting upon a support beam. When he looked up, Gisbo’s reflection was set against the sun, and now, unlike before, everything was different. Their roles had reversed since that day in the rain when they first met. It wasn’t raining, like the last time. Now, the sun was shining. There was no crying. And now, son was helping the father up. Falcon grabbed his son’s firm, strong hand and was hoisted up. Together, they prepared for the tournament and all that would come afterward.

Chapter Thirty Four:
The Final Event, Battle Royal

Gisbo sat alone on a bench in the arena’s dark confines. He sat still, every part of his body relaxed as he emptied out his mind, embracing the void, embracing the nothing as Foxblade had taught him.

This was it. After his match, everything would change, and Gisbo would meet it with his head held high and fists raised and ready, or in this case, his Tantos. Gisbo unsheathed them in a snap. It was so easy now. All the practice the week before the quickdraw had allowed him to call forth his weapons with little to no effort.

As he moved them through the air in a dance of death, his mind refreshed and empty, he focused on victory. To do that, he let his mind wander to what came before, everything he had overcome . . .

Overcome. Just the word itself brought him power. He had risen above all obstacles in his path. He survived Oak County, Thomson and his gang, his teachers, the townsfolk, the ones who isolated him, called him dog, called him a failure. Even more so, he overcame his own doubts and told them all to go screw themselves. When they hit, he hit back harder.

He had survived the trials of Heaven’s Shelter, become a Renegade, and continued despite every obstacle, every trial. He saw war and brought victory for his people. He defeated a Vile Lord, defeated one of his greatest rivals, and was stronger for it.

He had overcome it all. Now, here he was again, going up against bigger odds than ever before, with the future and millions of lives weighing on his ability to fight. All of it was held together by those who sacrificed their lives for him, for Heaven’s Shelter, but above all, for the quest for peace. Now it was held together by his want and love, for his dear, sweet Kennis Flora. The woman of his dreams, who showed him the power of love.

Upon that realization, as if his mind was rewarding him, came on another memory, the last piece of his lost day . . .

“Where are we going?” Gisbo asked. Falcon looked down at his son as they stepped through the crusted snow, on their way back to the commons of Heaven’s Shelter from their hockey game.

“Got to drop you off with your mom. You and her have a date,” Falcon said, smiling.

“A date? What’s that?” Gisbo asked.

“Something you will do when you’re older. Come on, you know how your mom gets when she . . . Gisbo?” Falcon asked, who suddenly stopped in the snow. Falcon turned about and bent down on one knee.

“What’s wrong, pal?” Falcon asked.

“Dad? Do you think, I can make the hockey team?” Gisbo asked. Falcon’s eyes lit up at the question. He knew the answer Gisbo was searching for wasn’t at all about hockey. He was asking the question every young boy wanting to be a man asks. Do I have what it takes, dad? And only a dad could set him straight, only a dad could give his son rite of passage and Falcon wasn’t about to let down his son.

“Son, you can do anything your little heart desires. Nothing is impossible with enough hard work. Not only can you do anything I can do, you can do it better. Do you know why?” Falcon asked.

“No?” Gisbo asked.

“Because, you’re your mother’s son too, and I’m so, so proud of you,” Falcon said. Gisbo beamed. “Now come on, your mom’s waiting, and she,”

“You mean, BEEN waiting.” Nora said, suddenly appearing in their path, arms folded, tapping her foot.

“Mom!” Gisbo said, as he rushed to her and embraced her in a hug around her knees.

“Well! Somebody sure missed me,” Nora said. She then looked at, Falcon. “Um, if only husbands felt the same way . . .”

“Hi, beautiful,” Falcon said. Nora stepped forward, beaming and planted him a peck on the cheek.