Renegade Rupture

by J. C. Fiske

  “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 on
e 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.

  Dave didn’t even notice the Boon standing before him now. He looked right through it, staring at the old man, the taker of his love. He felt tears coming on and halted them by sheer will. His bear, Slumby, picked up on his feelings and turned around to face his partner.

  “You still got some life left to live. I’d walk away if I were you, boy,” Keith muttered.

  Dave was old. He knew it every morning he crawled out of bed and looked at himself in the mirror and rubbed his bald head and white, stringy hair. To be called “boy” brought him back to the time when he was. Anger wrapped a vice around his usually smooth tongue. He was afraid to speak. Anger made everything vibrate within him, even his voice. He would not show such weakness. So instead, he thought it.

  You took my wife, my joy, my peace, my world. You took everything, and you still taunt me? Why? What drives such a monster? Dave thought.

  “Never were much for confrontation. Even when you attacked me, there was so much fear in your eyes, your stumbling stutter. Pathetic. Go on back to your team. I’d hate to take more from you,” Keith said.

  “I’m not afraid of confrontation, but what happens after. I lost control once, and you never walked again,” Dave said. Kieth frowned at that.

  “This is personal, between you and me. I’m old, I know that. I don’t have much time upon this world, so I offer a deal. We may never see each other again. How about we end this, like men of old? I hate you, you hate me. Let us have a duel, to the death, over the woman we both so loved. My sweet, sweet Eleanor,” Keith said.

  “DON’T YOU SAY HER NAME!” Dave bellowed.

  “So, you accept the terms?” Keith said. “Think about it, you can send my soul to hell early. Come on, boy, grant this old man his dying wish. I know you can’t get me out of your head, I know my face haunts you every night. Wouldn’t you rather picture me dead, wrapped in the hot embrace of burning flames of hell, than free to wheel about this world? What say you? We’re both old, we cannot do battle as we once did, but our souls, our spirits, everything we are lies within these Boons of ours. Let’s put them to the test, throw it all on the line,” Keith said.

  “Dave, please, you do not have to do this,” Narroway said. “Just win this match, get the point.”

  “Narroway, when your wife was killed, wouldn’t you do anything, anything to face the killer?” Dave asked. “Even at the risk of your own life?”

  Narroway fell silent.

  “Exactly,” Dave said.

  “As soon as you agree to this, there will be no going back, you know that,” Narroway said.

  “There’s no going back as it is,” Dave said. He turned to see his son in the stands, then turned to Narroway.

  “Do not announce this out loud, I beg you. For those watching, this is but a normal match,” Dave said. He turned to Keith. “I accept your terms.”

  “Then you know what to do,” Keith said. “I’ve already bonded my soul to my Boon; you know why? I knew you’d accept. You can be played like a fiddle. I’m ready, I’ve been ready for you, and no matter who wins or who loses, one of us will see Eleanor today.”

  “Not where you’re going,” Dave said. He walked over to his bear. “Hey, old buddy. Change of plans.”

  With that, Dave powered up his essence, placed a hand over his heart, and then placed his other hand over Slumby’s heart. With each beat, man and beast opened the gateway of the soul and passed through until their heart beats became one. Once the link was complete, the door shut and locked behind them. Dave went to stand on his line and glared at Keith, who glared back, as bear glared at honey badger.

  Narroway, face white, looked at his friend’s twinkling, blue eyes, stalling to start. Dave looked at him and nodded.

  “Do it. Please, don’t embarrass me, not in front of my son,” Dave said. Narroway raised his hand, left it skyward, then let it drop.

  “Begin,” Narroway said weakly.

  Immediately, the honey badger charged, zipping and weaving, its white stripe on its back making it look snake-like. Slumby stood its ground, although shaken by the honey badger’s war cry that sounded much like drowning children.

  “Wait for it, Slumby, patience, patience,” Dave ordered. Slumby continued to stand its ground as the honey badger was one leap away from striking distance, and leap it did, right at Slumby’s face.

  Dave didn’t need to give the order to strike. Like a ball-player, Slumby swung his paw, claws extended, striking the honey badger mid-flight, and spiking it down to the floor.

  As if it didn’t notice, the honey badger merely bounced, rolled, and was on the offensive again, this time striking low and forcing the big bear to back up and dodge. To and fro the two beasts went, Slumby with massive, dedicated, slow strikes, and the honey badger with ruthless, fast, wild strikes, neither of them able to connect. The king of the forest and the king of the barrens, known for driving off lions with ease, were locked within a stalemate of dodges and strikes. Thinking human brains were behind each strike, swimming in a pool of rage so deep, it threatened to drown them both.

  Then, claws met face, and the truth of their terms was revealed to the crowd, including Dave’s son.

  The honey badger rolled over the bear’s stamped paw, then leapt straight up, striking the bear beneath its right eye, leaving three long lines upon Slumby and also upon Dave.

  The old Renegade reeled his head back. He hadn’t been struck in the face in ages. He touched the three tender, evenly spaced cuts and held out his hand to reveal his hand was stained with his own blood.

  “Dad . . . no . . .” Shaved said, realizing this was no longer just a fight, but a duel to the death.

  “Life-link . . .” Grandfield stammered. He couldn’t help it. Tears rolled down his face, born from linked memories of his own deceased father. And now, here again, he may see his best friend’s father die. Worse yet, all they could do was watch and . . .

  “He’ll win,” Knob said, breaking both Grandfield and Shaved’s fragile thoughts. Knob stood to his feet, cupped both hands over his mouth, and did what every good crowd member supporting his team would do.

  He cheered.

  “KILL HIM! KICK HIS BEAVER ASS, DAVE!” Knob said.

  “It’s a honey badger!” Grandfield said.

  “Whatever . . . DAVE! DAVE! DAVE!” Knob screamed and, to Shaved’s surprise, all around him began to pick up the chant with Knob leading the way. Shaved looked at him. Knob felt his gaze and didn’t return it, only smiled as he sang Dave’s name, louder and louder. No one cheered for the wheelchair bound, elderly man, not that it mattered to him. He wasn’t in a stadium right now. He was bathing in his pool of hate, trying to force the other man to drown first.

  “HAH! THE CROWD CAN’T HELP YOU! YOU’LL DIE, right here, right now! You’ll,” Keith wailed. As an entire stadium cheered one name, his name, Dave couldn’t help but feel as if this match was over. He felt young again. The stiffness in his joints went away as a flow of adrenaline, like aged wine in the depths of his being, exploded within him. His heart hammered in his chest, the back of his neck prickled, his skin turned red, as Keith jabbed away with his words.

  “NO MORE TALK!” Dave screamed as he mentally ordered a precise attack.

  “Hah! Even when I die you’ll hear my
voice, even when I . . .” The old man didn’t want to be interrupted, but had no choice. His sentence was cut off as the honey badger opened its mouth for a lunging strike, only to meet Slumby’s thrusting, furry paw, the ultimate nullifier for a chatty nuisance.

  Suddenly, the old Strife felt something sting the back of his throat, a huge claw that no doubt snipped his hanging uvula like an apple from a tree. Blood filled his mouth and spilled out over his lips and onto his lap as the bear dragged its claw out, dragging it across the honey badger’s tongue, severing the tip of Keith’s own tongue in the process.

  “ACK! ACK! KIH OU! KIH OU!” the man gargled out.

  The honey badger, free from the bear’s quick and precise strike, ran up the bear’s arm, not at all phased, unlike the human it was linked to, and dug its claws into the bear’s shoulder, biting down.

  Dave dropped to one knee, grabbing his own shoulder, as the bear in turn rose on his two legs, trying to grab the thing off of him. The honey badger didn’t just bite, it shredded, tore, and wriggled its head back and forth as if in a wild seizure, tearing and clawing until it got down to the meat. White flints of bone and meaty chunks rolled down both the bear and Dave’s back as the bear roared and Dave screamed.

  But the honey badger wasn’t satisfied with one ruined shoulder. The bear was still standing, so, in a desperate leap, the honey badger went right for the bear’s face.

  In a flurry of scratches and bites, the honey badger burst the bear’s right eye open like a giant white pimple, wriggled it free from the socket, and swallowed it.

  Both the bear and Dave’s minds swam with pain. It wasn’t just the loss of one eye that blinded them now, but the white hot flashes of raw, tender pain and loss of blood that threatened unconsciousness. Dave was losing everything, and then he felt the claws dig in above his left eye. Soon, both eyes would be gone and darkness would take over, forever.