by J. C. Fiske
“As I’m sure you’ve heard before, one cannot look at the world in black and white anymore. There is a sea of gray now and you mustn’t put yourself on the edge of either side, but rather pull what’s best from both camps and hold them center. You can’t agree with everything a Purist has to say, just as you can’t agree with everything a Freeist has to say either. You are an individual mind, be who you are and don’t dissolve into the masses. This is what it means to be a Renegade. For example, I believe in equality and peace, a Freeist trait, but at the same time I believe in swift justice so as not to give evil breathing room to ruin peaceful lives, a Purist trait. Hence, I did what I did to Cannon and Scarrr and also why we immediately went after Lokin upon your testimony, you see? And believe me, it wasn’t a rash decision. You gave us the final clue in our investigation,” Falcon explained and Gisbo again nodded.
“This world is a confusing place; just know I’m not preaching to you. I’m showing you the options and who’s to say my way is the correct way? I am here to show you the paths and, in the end, you must seek the one you feel is right. Just as long as you don’t become a Strife!” Falcon said jokingly before continuing.
“I don’t like the color green anyway. So why did they attack us today? At a funeral no less and why the hell did only a few of them come? Even to me, it doesn’t make sense!” Gisbo wondered.
“Well, back in the day we were constantly battling it out, green versus blue, until Narroway met with Lamik and organized a peace treaty. Nobody knows what this treaty contained, but I remember his face looking ever so grave after the meeting. Whatever Narroway gave them, it worked and we haven’t received trouble from them for years, until now. From what I gather so far, I can offer you this theory on why they attacked today. We know now who was behind the kidnapping of the kids and I believe Lokin and Shax also took some of the Strife children, forcing the small group of Strife fathers to go along with their plans. What those exact plans are I do not know, but you can be sure we will find out. Till then, I want you and Rolce to train as hard as you possibly can. I believe we will be needing the both of you in times ahead, do you understand?” Falcon asked. Gisbo gave Falcon a quick salute and received a smile in return.
“Good. And do try to cheer Rolce up. Tell him he is Rolce Moordin now, not Rolce Shax. He is his own man entitled to his own decisions. If he wants to be one of the good guys, then he will be,” Falcon instructed as he patted Gisbo on the back and trekked off towards a destination unknown.
Gisbo sat and smiled to himself. Falcon always had a way of making him feel better, always. If there was one man he wished to be like, it would be Falcon Vadid. Never before was he so proud to have such a great instructor and friend. He couldn’t wait to begin training with him one on one and was glad Falcon was back to his old self again. Still, the two sides to him he saw earlier that day haunted him - he was still a Flarian, after all. Gisbo rose to his feet as his stomach growled deeply. He made his way towards Dave an’ Ern’s Mach Shop to find Shaved, Grandfield and Knob and get some much-wanted food together.
Time passed after Purah’s funeral and the air became frigid as the days of fall came to an end. By winter, both Gisbo and Rolce got back into their usual mode of life, although Rolce rarely talked about the things that were troubling him. They trained exceptionally hard for Roarie and had finally arrived at her final class. She stood in front of them, almost on the brink of tears as she addressed her class for the last time as a whole.
“Well, boys and girls, apparently your time has come to an end with me. I am proud to say that all of you have passed. You have prepared your bodies and been given the tools necessary to keep them strong. The rings will encourage you should you fall lazy through the winter months and anytime you feel that sting, think of your pretty little instructor Roarie. Now, before I personally brand your bands on you, I would like to give out two awards for exceeding the call of duty in my class. The first award given is called The Most Improved. This award is bestowed upon the student who got the most out of this class and underwent the most dramatic transformation to reach their current state. They receive a special tattoo from me for their hard work and dedication. Please give a round of applause to the rightful owner of this award, Grandfield Groggo!” Roarie yelled, setting off a wave of energetic clapping.
Grandfield blushed more than would have seemed possible as he stepped forward. Roarie powered up her essence with a ringed finger, held up Grandfield's forearm and began to trace the shape of the tattoo. Grandfield winced in pain slightly as Roarie held his wrist firm and finished. There on Granfield's arm was a jet black tattooed band, extending around his forearm with an added design beneath it, reaching toward his hand. Granfield smiled as he held up his wrist and twirled it around, examining the band before he pumped his newly decorated arm to the sky with a fist, causing the class to break into applause once more. Roarie quieted them before continuing.
“This other award is known as The Instructor Award. It is given to one who went above and beyond the call of duty and encouraged others around them to do the same. This term we have two! Would Rolce Moordin and Gisbo Falcon please step up to me?” Roarie announced as she began to clap again.
Gisbo and Rolce looked at each other as they each broke out into smiles and stepped forward. Roarie gave them both hugs as the applause continued and tattooed Gisbo and Rolce with the same figure as Granfield. All three boys pumped their fists in the air with yells of triumph. When the class was quieting down, Roarie made her way to stand in front of Gisbo.
“I still remember your first day here, you little twerp. I hope by now you think of me a bit differently. Well?” Roarie said with a touch of sternness. Gisbo stood for a minute, looking down at his short instructor.
“Well, you are a lot stronger then I originally thought. I was definitely wrong in that area, by a landslide! For that I’m sorry,” Gisbo admitted, surprisingly sincere. Roarie smiled.
“But I’m also sorry that you will always be a little old hag!” Gisbo added as he broke into a run, laughing crazily. A bewildered look flashed across Roarie’s face and then she ran after him, causing the class to break into fits of laughter. Roarie pounded her student into the ground for the last time before giving the rest of the class their bands.
Chapter Fifteen: Math . . . The Bane of Existence
Almost overnight winter had descended upon Heaven’s Shelter. The entire place was now blanketed in a white fluffy snow. Following their band ceremony, the Renegas were rewared a much-deserved week off. Gisbo and Rolce, not about to waste a spare moment of their break, spent the week building snow forts, having snowball fights, and partaking in an activity exclusive to Heaven’s Shelter known as ice skeeting. There was also a sport called “hockey” in which several ice skeeters would pass around and whack a rubber disc across the ice with curved sticks.
Ernie Knowall began sharing with everyone purchasing their ice skeets and sticks from the mach shop that it was indeed he who had come up with the idea for hockey until Dave informed the boys that the Soarians had been playing it long before Ernie was even born. It was safe to say that hockey absorbed most of the boys and girls winter break as Renegades, Renegaras and Renegas played it constantly throughout the week. Gisbo found that Falcon was exceptionally good at this sport and he taught Gisbo all the ins and outs of the game. They had a blast in spontaneous pick up matches.
When they weren’t playing hockey, everyone enjoyed warm cups of hot cocoa, apple cider and a variety of steaming soups from the various shops. These winter specialties hit the spot after a day out in the cold, especially snow skeeting, an invention of Shaved and Knob’s. One winter day when they were bored, the daredevils had attached two long boards to their feet and coasted down the snowy hills outside of Heaven’s Shelter. At first people thought they were crazy, but the sport caught on quickly.
Winter break wasn’t all fun and games, however. Gisbo, Rolce, Shaved and Grandfield repeatedly shoveled snow in front of the shop and all around
it to be rewarded with an early leave from their jobs to enjoy their break. Thanks to Shaved and Knob’s invention of snow skeets, the shop had their highest sales yet, causing Ernie to be the friendliest guy in Heaven’s Shelter, mostly due to the extra beer at the pubs he could now afford.
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. The glorious week finished out and Gisbo and Rolce found themselves trudging to their next class on a cold foggy morning, the frigid air biting at their faces. Gisbo constantly found himself staring at his forearm in deep pride as they walked. Roarie was right: every time he examined his new tattoo, he remembered all the hard work it took to earn it and he especially enjoyed the special design near the bottom of the band, knowing that he, Rolce and Grandfield were the only ones in their class to receive it. Gisbo rubbed at a welt on his head from Roarie's final beating and actually smiled. He was going to miss the old hag.
Gisbo and Rolce finally arrived at their destination outside a building set across from the Courtyard of Strength. Upon seeing the building, Gisbo’s heart sank. Rolce’s, on the other hand, skipped a beat in excitement. There in front of them stood a schoolhouse and within it, a warm sputtering fire burned in front of neat wooden desks for each and every one of them. Rolce was nearly shaking with excitement as Gisbo shook from pure nausea. He hated school and all that went with it. Homework, raising his hand to speak, homework, trying to stay awake for things he hadn’t the slightest interest in, and of course, homework. Didn’t they do enough in class as it was? Didn’t anyone realize how hard it was just to stay awake? No, of course not, it was never enough; you had to take things home just to keep you busy. How dare you take your mind off math formulas for a single instant of your life! IAM knows you might go do something useful with your life instead! All of these thoughts crossed through Gisbo’s mind within seconds and what a few painful seconds they were as they walked inside the schoolhouse.
Rolce strutted into the warmly lit classroom, his face beaming as Gisbo trudged along behind him and took his seat within his prison cell, also known as a desk. It wasn’t as bad as Gisbo had initially thought, but he dared not get optimistic, that was what they wanted him to do. There were maps adorning the wooden walls with holly draped over the corners and nearly a dozen or so cedar desks that filled the room with a comforting, woodsy smell.
There was a stamping of boots behind them and Gisbo turned to see Knob, followed by Grandfield and Shaved. They looked just as happy to be there as he did. At least he wasn't the only miserable one. Upon further thought, Gisbo believed Rolce was the only happy student in the room until Kennis took to her seat with an equally oversized grin. Next, Rake came in and made his way to sit in the back corner with his two Synergy teammates, Crass Bastio and Whip Miley, who were grumbling aloud, while Rake simply rolled his eyes and stared off into the distance, indifferent.
Gisbo felt sick to his stomach again seeing Kennis and Rolce smiling in anticipation until he heard a door slam behind them. Gisbo thought he heard a lock snap into place, but he knew he was only imagining it, wasn’t he? There was the sound of heavy boots falling swiftly across the floor as the instructor made his way to the front of the class. The man was tall and the small staging which his desk sat upon made him look even taller. He was completely bald except for a ridge of perfectly cut hair that rounded the back of his skull. He was dressed in Nazarite attire, with an arm fully decked out in unique, tattooed bands. It looked as if he must have gotten the top awards for every class he ever took for Gisbo had never seen such exquisite markings. He had dark eyes that almost appeared black and fine wrinkles that made him look wise, not necessarily old - as if they were cut into his face purposefully. For once Gisbo was thankful he and Rolce had arrived on time for this guy was a major leap away in the intimidation factor compared to Roarie…well, at least upon first impression. Gisbo rubbed his welt once more.
When the man spoke, he sounded a bit like Moordin, except that his voice was much deeper. He was much more intense and a tad bit scary, as if everything he was about to say was absolute and could have no counter argument. His tone was emotionless and every sentence was direct and to the point.
“Good to see you all this wintry morning and all on time no less. You may call me Instructor Perry,” Perry said, standing straight as he addressed his class, turning slightly as he made eye contact with every one of them giving him absolute attention. Gisbo couldn’t have fallen asleep even if he tried; he was too afraid of the ramifications.
“I’d like to offer you congratulations upon receiving your first bands, no easy task. The same will be for this band. You have now strengthened your bodies, strengthened them well, but as everyone knows, it is useless without the mind,” Perry said as he tapped the side of his head with two fingers and continued his pacing.
“If Roarie’s class put your body into fighting shape, then this class will most certainly thrust your MIND into fighting shape. You will learn mathematical battle strategies, philosophies . . .” The teacher rambled on, but all Gisbo heard was math. His absolute worst subject in the history of his schooling. Why? Why did there have to be math? He groaned under his breath and rolled his eyes, seeing Rolce grin again. How many times must his stomach lurch this morning? Good thing he never ate breakfast, making up for it with huge lunches and dinners, or else Rolce might be wearing it.
The remainder of the day consisted of the usual rules of the road for Perry’s class and the handing out of several textbooks, about as thick as a log in some cases. The day finally ended as Gisbo and Rolce gathered all their books and began walking out into a now sunny afternoon, the light glistening on the icicles hanging from the rooftops. Gisbo sighed with relief that the first class was over. It was then Gisbo saw Rake exit the class by himself. He strutted off across the field alone as his two synergy mates came out, stared at him walking away and shook their heads.
“I’ll never understand that guy and, ugh, damn it all!” Crass Bastio let out a wail of misery before continuing. “I’ll never understand why I need to attend school for the second time! It was bad enough in Candia!” Crass wailed again as he dropped his heavy stack of books into the snow, followed by a string of curses. Gisbo was highly amused by this. FINALLY! Somebody he could complain with! Gisbo dropped down to his knees and helped the boy gather his books.
“Hey, let me help ya with those. Just be thankful you don’t have a synergy mate that practically wets himself in excitement at every other word Perry had to say,” Gisbo commented, without looking at Rolce. Gisbo expected to hear Rolce’s voice in retort, but instead he heard another.
“The quest for knowledge is not something to degrade, Renega Gisbo,” said Perry, who stood over him. Gisbo grimaced, afraid to turn around. He didn’t have to because Perry walked round to stand before him. Boy, is he tall… was all Gisbo could think while on his knees in the snow.
“Should you continue from this moment with such an attitude, I can promise that no band from me will ever grace your arm. Are we clear, Renega Gisbo?” Perry asked in an emotionless tone.
“Yes, yes, sir.” Gisbo stammered.
“And Renega Crass, books belong on a shelf, not in the snow. Do pick them up for, at 100 tarries a book, I’m sure you would not wish to replace them,” Perry said.
“Why, yes, yes, sir,” Crass stammered as well.
“Great insight today, Rolce, I look forward to spending this semester with you. ‘Til the morrow, gentlemen,” Perry said as he glided through the snow. Rolce looked at both Gisbo and Crass with a big grin.
“Wipe that smirk off,” Gisbo said to Rolce with a snarl.
“Scary guy! As for you, pal, I’d shake your hand, but I don’t feel like dropping these books again. One hundred tarries, can you believe that garbage? All for a diced up tree with ink on it! Gisbo, right?” Crass asked.
“Yeah, and this here is my mate Rolce Moordin, the excitable school boy,” Gisbo said cocking his neck toward Rolce standing beside him, scowling once more at Gisbo's rude introduction
. Crass laughed at this.
“Well, I’m Crass Bastio and this here is Whip Miley,” Crass said, also cocking his neck backward to indicate Whip standing behind him. “You’re the synergy with the missing member, aren’t ya?” Crass said, a bit . . . crass, as they began to walk.
“Yeah, unfortunately. We’re working on it though,” Rolce said, not really knowing what else to say on the topic.
“Eh, I only ask because you guys aren’t the only ones. That little bastard Rake up ahead has barely said two words to me and Whip the entire time we’ve lived with him. Well, I guess I shouldn’t call him a bastard; I feel really bad about what happened with his dad and all, poor guy. Me and Whip actually tried being nice to him for a change,” Crass said with a shrug as he nearly toppled his books over once more.
“My class master, Bastio, tells me some pretty bad times are ahead. Lokin’s turn was a total shocker, plus Purah’s death. He said if Purah could be killed that easily, then nobody's safe. Worst part is, we don’t have a stinkin’ clue what they are up to. I wish we could help in some way. Hey, random question, you guys into metal?” Crass asked out of the blue. Gisbo and Rolce both smiled at this.
“Um, as in the music?” Gisbo asked.
“Of course as in the music, dummy!” Crass said.
“Oh, well, yeah! Phoenix Force is good stuff,” Gisbo said with a grin. Gisbo noticed that Whip grimaced at the name.
“No kiddin'? I like you guys already! Whip hates Phoenix Force unfortunately, says all their rifts sound the same. I say screw you, man! Stuff is fast, fast, fast! Love it! Supposedly they're around touring right now, they're all Renegades, ya know. They actually keep their Renegade outfits on stage when they tour. Everyone thinks it's part of the act, not really knowing they're the real deal. It's pretty awesome! You ever been to their concerts?” Crass asked. Gisbo and Rolce both shook their heads.