Renegade Reborn

by J. C. Fiske

  “I’ve seen so much in this thing I’ve called a life. I’ve seen other planets, other universes, other realities, other times, and despite it all, I realized, it was never the big planets I’ve enjoyed, but the small ones, and Thera, is no doubt, the smallest planet I’ve ever come across. You asked me before, why I wasted my energy, to save that little girl’s pup?” Vadid asked.

  Drakearon fell silent, and Vadid shook his head, holding back the power now with little effort. Each sentence he spoke, he thought not of his own body, or power, but others, and they were what were holding back the Dragon now, along with his friend, the fiery blue Phoenix.

  “That’s the thing. You think so much beneath you, but not me. I consider myself just another part of this little planet. I love it. This is my home. This is my life. I like little planets, because here, even the smallest decisions have big results, and even the smallest of creatures, can be heroes . . .” Vadid said.

  CHOMP!

  And then, Drakearon cried out in pain, feeling thick little points pierce the tender spot in his heel, and soak his silken sock with his own blood, and it was in that one moment of distracting pain that gave Vadid the upper hand he needed as he pushed the Dragon blade up, and to the side, forcing the resounding energy to Drakearon’s own army, instead of Thera’s.

  The Man-Dragon had to see, had to find the source of the sudden intense flame of pain that had erupted in his heel and was now climbing fast up his leg, and couldn’t believe what he found. There, as stoic as a little pup could be, was Puggy, digging his sharp little teeth into the heel of a would be God, and rending it back and forth with the most viscous and valiant growls he could muster.

  In the confusion, Vadid had time to dive into a front roll, and grab the pup in one arm, while striking at the air with his last remaining power, and once again, reality itself folded open like a napkin, and there, through the hole in reality, now flapping in the wind behind Drakearon, was another world, a dark world, with a red sky, and bellowing thunder.

  “NOW!” Vadid screamed, falling on to his side, holding Puggy tightly to his chest, completely spent.

  Falcon moved first, firing a massive burst of fire, expelling the entirety of his essence at Drakearon, who, now having regained his bearings, managed to bat it aside as if it were annoying insect, and down Falcon went.

  Together, Shax, and Moordin charged outright in a spinning display of their pole-arms, only to be blown backward with one swing of Drakearon’s blade, looking like skipping stones across a still pond, as they sputtered and skipped along the sandy ground, blowing up clouds of dust, until they settled, and lay still.

  And then the rest came, from all manageable angles. Foxblade and Lokin, daggers drawn, went for the back of him as Purah, the Berserker, went for the front to draw his attention. It did not matter. Drakearon merely took his blade, stabbed it into the ground and unleashed a controlled explosion of energy all around him, sending all three men flailing into the air like ragdolls.

  Lokin’s head careened off the corner of a stone home, Foxblade’s body went straight through a window into another, and Purah, landed right between the downed Moordin and Shax with the front of his Renegade poncho on fire.

  It had come to this now, the fate of Thera, now in the hands of Vice Dastard, standing alone against his creator, and his father. They looked for a long moment at each other, standing still as Gunslingers as the hole behind Drakearon was slowly beginning to close. Once shut, all would be lost.

  “What could you hope to accomplish alone, where the group has failed?” Drakearon asked.

  Vice Dastard looked at him for a long moment. It was in times such as these, warriors would draw upon good memories, but for Vice, he could barely count them on his hands, and then, he heard the voice of Vadid again . . .

  “If you were my son, I’d be proud.”

  Vice smiled, looked his father right in the eyes, and said,

  “Let’s find out . . .”

  “There it is! This, this right here is Purah’s chain. Let’s hope that he and Drakearon had some deep, meaningful conversations. Come on, I need your help, we’re going to snap the chain from its source. We’re bringing it back with us,” Jackobi said.

  “We, you can do that?” Rolce asked.

  “Yes, but carefully. We have to follow this chain down to the source, only there, can we get a clean break, and then, we’re out of here. No doubt, once the chain breaks, he’ll feel it and our cover is blown. We’ll have one shot at this. You ready?” Jackobi asked.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” Rolce said. Taking in a deep breath, the two of them wafted through the chains, getting deeper to the glowing, ball of turquoise energy at the center where the chains of memories began.

  “Ugh, my stomach, this, this is . . .” Rolce started.

  “Fight it. The closer we get to the source, the worst you’ll feel. This is the Dragon’s energy. Where the Phoenix has hope, this has despair. Where the Phoenix fills one with courage, this fills you with fear. Come on, almost there,” Jack said.

  “Don’t you feel this?” Rolce asked. “It’s like, a rending feeling, tendrils, reaching into my soul, I . . . Oh, Jack, Jack, this is too much, I can’t . . . I can’t . . .” Rolce said. He went to wipe sweat off his brow, only to come back away, his forearm drenched with red.

  “Blood?” Rolce spoke, his voice trembling.

  “Hematidrosis. Sweating blood in extreme stress. Damn it, Rolce. I’m so sorry. I have an immunity to this due to my Seraph blood, but we can’t stop, please, without you, we can’t do this, we can’t . . .” Jackobi started.

  “Jackobi Foxblade, Rolce Moordin . . . I don’t know whether to be impressed, or angry,” A bellowing, cold voice snapped. It seemed to come from all around them, and also, from within them.

  “MOVE!” Jackobi yelled, as he fell in a fierce nosedive, straight into the source. Rolce screamed with pain, and his grip grew so weak that Jack was forced to grab his wrist and drag him along. The end was there, he saw it, only a few more feet, and he could snap it free, only a . . .

  And then, he blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, there, floating before them, standing in the way of Purah’s chain, was the masked face of Drakearon, huge, and menacing.

  “The sheer arrogance of this foolhardy act, I’m at a loss for words, but that’s fine, action is far better. Thank you, for making this so easy!” Drakearon said. Suddenly, his mask flipped around to the demonic face and his cold tone was gone, replaced by the shrill tone of unbridled insanity. “DIEEEEE!”

  The eyes of Drakearon glowed, and from them, a dual blast of red energy fired straight toward Rolce . . .

  “NO!” Jackobi screamed, as he shifted his friend parallel, using his own body to shield Rolce’s. Jack closed his eyes, braced himself, but the blast never hit. When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in darkness. He had gone from the black, into the blue, as all about them was a rotating ring of fire, blue white fire, shielding them from the killing gaze of Drakearon.

  “Don’t lose heart boys, for I am with you!” A familiar voice called, a voice, that they had just heard moments earlier.

  “Vadid . . .” Rolce stammered, feeling gooseflesh tear across his body as his despair and pain was replaced with hope and exhilaration.

  “Oh, the sheer dangles on you boys! Do you have any idea how crazy this was?” Vadid’s voice asked, not in a scolding tone, but rather, it was a tone of pride. “And Jack, how many times have I told you that you are my one link to this world! If you go out and die . . . heh, crazy as a fox . . . I’ll take it from here boys! You get what needs getting’ and high tail your asses outta here!”

  “Impossible . . . GRAH!“ Drakearon’s voice growled, not at all enjoying the blue flames dancing before his face.

  “You should know this by now. I’m Vadid the Valiant! Impossible is my speciality! Go boys! NOW!” Vadid grunted.

  “Rolce, pull! Give it your all! Use that freakish strength of yours!” Jackobi said, and togethe
r, they tugged the chain, pulling and pulling with all their might, but try as they may, it would not break free.

  “This is my domain! Do not believe for a moment you’ll just float your way to victory!” Drakearon spoke.

  “A moment? Oh, Drakey, I think of nothing but victory! Boys, let’s see if I can’t help you out here. Hold on, Gizzy! Things may or may not go dark on you for a bit! Hopefully, he doesn’t spiral into the side of a planet or something . . . ok, whew! Damn are you boys stretching my limits here, it’s been a while . . . HERE WE GO!” Vadid said.

  In the next instant, Vadid was there in a flash of white, floating right before them within the ring of fire. He looked to Jack, then to Rolce, and smiled a big, shit eating grin before he wrapped two big hairy arms around them and hugged them close, before letting them go, and gazing over them, beaming with pride as if he were their father.

  “Rolce Moordin and Jackobi Foxblade! Oh, what a pleasure it is to finally meet you in the flesh! Well, close enough . . . You know, this is a failed greeting all together. Let’s try again! Ah, Rolce, come here son,” Vadid said as he wrapped Rolce up in a big bear hug, slapping him on the back as he did so, then pulled away with a bigger smile than before. “Ah, just look at ya, boy! Strong as your Daddy and as pretty as your Mom! And you, you Jack! All this talking over the years without even bein’ able to pour ya a proper drink! Come here, son!”

  “I don’t do . . . OOF!” Jack started, unable to get the word, “hugs” out in time.

  “Oh, you damn well better!” Vadid said, pulling away and looking him over.

  “And you, by IAM’s ear lobes, you’ve got the same ugly mug as your Dad’s!” Vadid said, erupting into laughter. Rolce joined him.

  “I . . . hmph,” Jackobi growled.

  “And the same sense of humor as a box of rocks!” Vadid said. He then took on a curious glare to his face as he began poking Jack in the bicep, over and over with a hairy, sausage of a finger. “Same upper body strength too . . . I’ve seen more meat on a gerbil for IAM’s sake . . .”

  “Would you stop that!” Jack said, pulling away from him. This caused Vadid to erupt into more infectious laughter, as he placed a hand on each of their shoulders.

  “Oh, boys, this, this is such a pleasure for me, meeting you both like this. I have so much I want to say, so much I want to tell ya, but my time’s short, too damn short, so I want you to listen.” Vadid said, adapting a more serious tone. “Rolce, Jack? Study this chain carefully, every bit of it, and Rolce, when the time comes to face him, to go against Purah and that big Berserker sword of his, well, I’ll say this . . . “ Vadid started as he leaned in, and whispered something in Rolce’s ear. Rolce listened carefully, and then, felt a smile rise to his face.

  “Really?” Rolce asked. Vadid smiled back, and nodded.

  “And as for you, Jack. I have one piece of advice . . .” Vadid said, dropping his smile into the utmost serious of face, as he put both of his hands on his shoulders.

  “Yes?” Jack asked. Vadid then leaned in to tell him a secret, and instead, paused before he reached his ear, sniffed him, then pulled away.

  “Take a shower, you smell like ass . . .” Vadid said.

  “What!?” Jack asked. Rolce erupted into laughter.

  “OK, MEN! PULL!” Vadid said as he leapt at the chain, and together, they all pulled as hard as they could with Drakearon, helpless to do anything, but shout curses and obscenities at them, firing blast after blast at the blue ring of fire, but to no avail.

  A few moments later, the chain snapped free, and the group fell back and landed gently against the back end of spinning fire, floating and breathing hard.

  “I’ve never been good with goodbyes, so I won’t say ‘em. Just remember, when times go darkest, and they will, and when hope is out of your reach, you can do no worse than remember the stories of old, the fairy tales, for within them is not just the echo of the one, truest of stories, but yours as well! I love you both, with all I am. Thank you, oh, and Jack, one last thing . . .” Vadid said.

  “Uh, yes?” Jack asked.

  “Seriously, the ass, it’s everywhere . . . take a shower . . .” Vadid said.

  And then, they were back, the two of them falling off their seated positions and onto the floor, wrapped in the tangle of a black chain with a glistening turquoise tint.

  “Did that, did that really just happen?” Rolce asked.

  “It did.” Jack said, letting out a clenched breath of relief.

  “Vadid the Valiant . . . I met Vadid the Valiant, that was, that was,” Rolce started, and then he suddenly began to giggle, then burst into full, stomach burning laughter as he rolled about on the floor, his face reddening, his eyes full of tears, desperately trying to finish his sentence.

  “And . . . he . . . he . . . said, he said you smell like ass!”

  Chapter Twelve: All Hail Ranto!

  Malik Strife strolled through the crowd, all of which cheered his name in a rising anthem, an anthem for the man who brought their senses so much pleasure in the ring, the one place where Malik truly felt at home, for it was there, his skill for violence was not abhorred, but honored. The ring, the one place he loved and the one place that loved him back. The Goat Man was right. They would listen to him. He was probably the only man they were capable of listening to. He spoke their language, and that language, was chaos.

  In purposeful driven strides, strides he had not had for so long, he climbed the steps to the ring of battle where all had fallen before him, only this time, his opponent, lied not in the ring, but above him . . . Thera itself.

  The cheers were deafening now, carrying all the way up the sides of the canyon of the Black Scar. They were the voices of killers, of thieves, of rapists, of sadists, of the crazed and they all screamed one name . . .

  Malik.

  The former Strife prince now stood in the center of his home, his arms outstretched, his eyes closed, taking in the cheers of his subjects. Originally, he thought they cheered for him out of a sense of joy, he now realized they were pleading. They were the cries of the downtrodden, they were the cheers of men lost in darkness, looking for purpose, for life, and within him, they saw what they were missing, they saw what they wanted, and they saw what they wanted to be! And that’s when it hit Malik, and he finally understood his destiny.

  Since he left the Strifes, he had been trying desperately to find his purpose, his reason for being, and now it had finally clicked inside of him. It had been there all along, staring him right in the face and, while he hated to admit it even to himself, it was the Goat Man that gave him the eyes to see. It was the Black Scar. The Black Scar was his destiny, his home, designed to give him purpose, and in return, he would give purpose to it, like a perfect symbiotic relationship.

  They were one, and soon, they would be all . . .

  Slowly, he let his hand open his pouch and out of it, by the hair, he pulled the head of none other than the old king of the scar, Gritty. Membranes hung from his stump of a neck, looking like greased, purple snakes. The crowd, at the site, suddenly grew very quiet, waiting and ready to hang on Malik’s every word.

  The new king of Black Scar did not disappoint as he raised his voice to the crowd, channeling the booming, inherited voice of his grandfather, Vadid the Valiant, and with it, he stirred the hearts of his followers for war, a war not to preserve peace but to destroy it . . .

  “Brothers! Here, in my grasp, lies what remains of a man who claimed right and superiority over others not by strength, but by an artificial strength, a strength bought through wealth and backstabbing! And this . . .” Malik said, shaking the head by its hair for more emphasis. “This is what happens when the gall and arrogance of a man goes too far! This is what happens when someone thinks they can control ME! This is what happens when someone thinks they can control YOU!”

  The crowd exploded into cheers. Malik continued.

  “NO LONGER! I see you all well! I know who you are and you know me! We, my brothers, we are th
e broken! We are the cast out! We are the mentally unstable! We are the criminals! We are the bane of this world and why? WHY, is it because we have chosen to embrace the true shade of humanity? Is it because we were brave enough to cast aside such petty things as honor, respect and love, for our own natures, our own desires, for true unapologetic freedom? Societal BULLSHIT!” Malik screamed, spiking the head onto the ground so hard the top of it split open and fluid poured from it like a split coconut.

  “They call us psychotic, they call us scum, they say that we have problems! NO! I argue, that we are not the problem, but rather, we are the solution and we are the future my brothers! We so few who have risen above law, society and morals for who we are, and what we want! What is it that we truly want? What makes our hearts come alive? I’ll tell you! It is CHAOS! Chaos is alive! Chaos is always moving, chaos is fair! From chaos we were born and from chaos we will die!

  It is time to rise my brothers! It is time to rise from the darkness of this pit they have forced us into! The world is our pit now! The world is now covered in our darkness, our friend! It is time we preach our message across Thera! It is time we stomp out the weaklings who have climbed to the high places by playing and manipulating society’s rules! It’s time to break it down, and make them say it! EVOLVE OR DIE! EVOLVE OR DIE!” Malik screamed. The crowd took up the chant, saying it over and over, letting their voices carry high and far out of the canyon until Malik raised a hand for silence.

  “Do not look at me as a leader, or a king, or anything with a title. I am at the center of the chaos. If you move with me, then together, we will destroy everything and start anew! We will be a cleansing flame! We will destroy the leaders, we will destroy the cultures, we will destroy the symbols and as a whole, we as humanity, will become what we were born to be! Free! For it is only in chaos, is there true freedom!

  Freedom isn’t earned, Freedom isn’t given, Freedom isn’t fought for, Freedom, is lived! Now, let us rise as one my brothers! Let us march onto every city and fill it with fire and brimstone! Let us break down the gates of Oak County, and then, let us march against this Drakearon, and show him, there is nothing wrong with free will! What’s wrong, is when one imposes their will on another! Call with me! Let your voices rise once more! Let them come! Bring us your diseased, your tired, your sick! Bring us the downtrodden, the outcasts, the poor and let us make war! WHO’S WITH ME!? EVOLVE OR DIE!” Malik screamed, bursting himself into the turquoise fire of the Man-Dragon as the Scar, in unison chanted, Evolve or Die! Evolve or Die! Evolve or Die!