Renegade Rising

by J.C. Fiske

Chapter 6: The Ceremony, The Rival, and the… Ugly?

  "Whoa . . ." Gisbo and Rolce both said aloud. They couldn't tell by looking at the outside of the building that the inside was this large. The ceilings seemed to stretch to the skies themselves. There were tapestries all over the walls, along with animal skins and various weapons with plaques beside them dedicated to Renegades of old. Gisbo was fascinated. He could have taken it in all day, but it was actually just a large hallway, a bridge over a stream. Their destination lay on the other side of a wide aperture, revealing an open field.

  They walked down the steps on the other side of the hallway and out onto the field where all sorts of festivities went on. People were everywhere, all seated at large oaken tables clanging mugs together and laughing in good spirits. Not more than three more steps forward did the smells hit Gisbo’s nose, making his mouth water instantly. He watched chefs running to and fro from cooking huts holding skewers of lamb, salmon, chicken, various filets, tenderloin and marinated steak tips. They slid the succulent meats onto the plates of hungry Renegades while others ran with large bowls full of all sorts of vegetables, fruits and assorted sweets. Gisbo had never witnessed such a feast in his life.

  Gisbo and Rolce were led to a table front and center where about fourteen other recruits sat, all dressed in ratty clothes like themselves. They seemed completely oblivious when Gisbo and Rolce sat down, too busy surveying the scene with nervous eyes. Falcon and his band gave the boys a quick, wordless salute and made their way towards the head table on the other side of the staging area. Rolce then noticed something and he pointed.

  "Look over there, Gisbo. I’ll bet you anything that that’s the Renegade Chieftain." Gisbo followed Rolce’s finger to the table where Falcon and his band sat. There, at the head of the table, seated in what looked like some form of throne, was a man garbed in Berserker attire wearing a new kind of uniform. Instead of the vibrant blue, his entire outfit was the cleanest white Gisbo had ever seen, making it look aglow. Intricate dark and light blue designs graced his ensemble beside the traditional Renegade stripes. His uniform was also clean cut, no tattered edges, and both arms were tattooed instead of just one. His bandana tails were immensely long and flowed over each shoulder like thin capes. There was no mistaking it, this man had to be a descendant of Warlord Vadid. He had the same tough jaw and wild look in his eyes. If he had to guess, Gisbo would have judged him to be about the same age as Falcon, but he had streaks of white in his black hair, beard and mustache, so symmetrical that it almost looked dyed.

  Gisbo noticed the Chieftain pause in his conversation with the man next to him. He locked eyes with Gisbo from across the field and knowingly gave a slight smirk. Gisbo thrust his head downward, away from the probing glance. He couldn't believe the sort of senses these men had. It was almost supernatural.

  Gisbo quickly forgot the embarrassing incident as food came their way. With a hungry grin, he grabbed every kind of meat he could, sampling everything in sight, while Rolce did the same. They were unable to believe their stroke of fortune and unable to say no to any food offered to them as it built upon their plates like small buildings. The chef stared almost disapprovingly at Gisbo as he cut up all the meats in one big pile and covered it with sauces that shouldn’t be mixed and loaded on the salt and pepper. It looked like chopped liver, but the meat just seemed to melt in a symphony of flavor within his mouth.

  No wonder they call this place Heaven’s Shelter, Gisbo thought, closing his eyes and savoring each chew.

  While enjoying his delectable dish, Gisbo noticed some of the boys from the Renegara table looking at them and pointing. Rolce paid no attention to it, but for some reason the blood began to boil in Gisbo's veins. He considered himself a very good judge of character and something about these boys didn't sit right, especially the big boy seated in the middle, obviously the ring leader.

  Even here, I'm going to have my work cut out for me. They don’t even know my name yet… Gisbo thought. Then, as he expected, the big boy got up from his seat and made his way over.

  “I 'onder wat eh ‘ants," Rolce said through a mouthful of food, finally noticing the boy, who was now standing right behind them. He slapped both their backs unnecessarily hard, causing Rolce to cough out his food.

  "Renega's-to-be, eh? I welcome you both to the fold. The name's Ranto. You'll come to know of me soon enough," Ranto bragged. He had an arrogance about him that may have even surpassed Thomson. The sting in Gisbo’s back seemed to hurt worse with every word he spoke.

  Ranto was about as tall as Rolce, with dark hair slicked back beneath his bandana. He had handsome features and was quite muscular for a kid his age. His teeth were dangerously white, like a shark’s, and his blue eyes were dim. Gisbo noticed three tattooed bands going up his right arm.

  "Well, thank you," Rolce beamed, oblivious.

  "Hey, no problem, pal. Now, down to business. You guys are new so I figured I would let you know that throughout the term there are fierce challenges between Renega's and Renegara's. Hell, even Renegades get involved from time to time for titles, honor and just straight up respect. Keeps our pride and competition intact, very healthy, and you look like a big enough guy. How would you like to partake in an eating challenge against me?" Ranto said.

  "Ummm . . . well, I just ate all of this and," Rolce started to say before Gisbo jumped in.

  "I'll do it," Gisbo interrupted, flashing Ranto a wicked stare. Ranto didn't even flinch at Gisbo's boldness, didn't even bat an eyelash.

  "Please, a runt like you? I want WORTHY competition. You are in no way worthy," Ranto said, dismissing him in a bored tone of voice.

  "Oh, I don't think so, butt hole! I saw you watching Rolce here down about two full plates before you waltzed over. You just wanted to pressure some newbie in an unfair contest, but not someone easy looking. You think we are nothing but scared little newcomers, huh? You didn't even touch your stupid plate, I see right through your crap," Gisbo stated. At this point the other kids at their table looked up. There was no way Ranto could turn down his challenge now. Gisbo knew his type well, pride came before everything . . . well, the same went for Gisbo too.

  "You can color me surprised," Ranto said, flashing his pearly whites.

  “I’ll color you something else if you want,” Gisbo sneered. Ranto smiled, then cupped both hands to his mouth and yelled.

  "CHALLLLENGGEEE!!!!"

  Ranto was so loud that everyone stopped what they were doing. The shout became contagious as everyone else started taking up the chant, yelling, CHALLENGE!!! Before he knew it, everyone was flying from their seats and running toward Gisbo's small table, plates, food and dinner utensils soaring everywhere in the process.

  It was now Gisbo's turn to be surprised. Rolce just stared at him, shaking his head, mouth open in shock, mouthing, “Are you stupid?” Renegaras, Renegades, and Renegas alike were now surrounding them, but Ranto was as cool as ever.

  "This eager boy wishes to challenge me to an eating contest," Ranto announced. At this, a cheer rang out and, in the midst of the hubbub, somebody shouted something about a champion.

  "As the current eating champion, how could I turn down an eager Renega-to-be? It would be unsporting of me. FATHER! DO YOU APPROVE THIS CHALLENGE?" Ranto screamed in the direction of the Renegade Chieftain. The Chieftain sat for but a moment before giving a thumbs up.

  Gisbo bit his lip nervously. Now he had really done it. Not only had he challenged the current eating champion, but also the Chieftain’s son! Gisbo couldn't help but feel a little stupid. Well, actually, he felt extremely stupid now. All the eyes around him felt like they were burning into his skin. This was just his day for attention, Gisbo guessed, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

  Why can I not control myself? Damn it all, Gisbo thought.

  "Kid's a natural, never seen anything like it in my lifetime. Fit as a tiger and he can shovel down food like no other. Even Renegade Groggo lost to the boy," said one Renegade to Gisbo’s left. Gisbo looked up a
nd noticed a very overweight Renegade frown at the mention of his name.

  Marvelous . . . not even that guy can beat him and he’s a freakin’ moose! Gisbo thought to himself.

  It was then he saw Falcon catch his gaze. Gisbo reckoned he was wearing the proudest smile ever seen as he tapped a fellow Renegade and pointed at his new trainee. Gisbo couldn't let Falcon down. Confidence began to swell in his core once more as Ranto took a seat across from Gisbo looking like he’d done this a thousand times. Two plates were placed in front of them and the chef raised his hands for silence.

  "Eating challenge: the rules are simple. I keep supplying you with plates containing the same portions of nothing but meat and potatoes, a humble meal. You will receive a point for each plate you finish. The one with the most points wins and should either of you vomit, you are disqualified, unless of course you wish to consume your vomit and continue. As I said, simple enough. You may choose to eat as fast or as slow as you'd like. Are the both of you ready?" the chef asked. Gisbo shot an evil glare over at Ranto, who returned it, still looking unintimidated. Gisbo meant to change that. They both nodded.

  "BEGIN!" the chef shouted.

  Gisbo didn't really know any strategy to eating, so he figured he would do what he always did, throw himself into it and go as fast as possible. He saw Ranto doing the same as they began to literally shovel food into their mouths. Cheers erupted around them and shouts of, "Go! Go! Go!" were chanted all about.

  Gisbo and Ranto kept their eyes on one another without even looking down to shovel the grub into their mouths. They both finished their first plates at the same exact time and new ones appeared in their places. Gisbo didn't care if he had to down the entire kitchen, he would keep eating until Ranto puked. As quick as the first, the second plate was finished and before Gisbo even realized it, they were onto their tenth plates. He could see a lot of the lady Renegades shaking their heads in disgust, mouthing, “Stupid men,”

  At their eleventh plate, they were beginning to feel the effects of their extended stomachs, especially Gisbo, who had downed a giant plate of food beforehand. Their determination diminished with every bite from here on out and every chew wore them down. On the contrary, the cheers began to grow louder and louder. To make things worse for Gisbo, his jaw was killing him. Rolce began to chant, "Gisbo! Gisbo! Gisbo!" Now that they knew his name, about half the crowd began cheering for him, while the other half was for Ranto. The effect was like magic. Hearing his own name echo throughout the field made him feel empowered.

  Ignoring his painful gut, Gisbo entered into a trance. He tucked his head closer to his plate and dropped his fork and began sliding his food into his mouth as if it were a waste basket. For the first time in their short encounter, he noticed Ranto had a spark of worry in his eyes, very faint, but his cool exterior began to crack. This gave Gisbo all the more reason to go faster, gobbling down the food like a starved animal. Ranto couldn’t keep up now and Gisbo finally broke ahead of him, finishing his eleventh plate before the Chieftain’s son had even finished half of his own. Gisbo was on to twelve, the tide of the room was now overbearingly screaming his name. He finished twelve. He finished thirteen, he finished fourteen and then the unthinkable happened.

  The champion Ranto finished his eleventh plate and the twelfth was plopped in front of him. He stared at it for quite awhile, looking squeamish. He took one bite of a potato, his eyes widened and with a leap he was out of his seat, running with his hands over his mouth as puke sprayed through his fingers.

  Gisbo had won.

  The entire place went wild as Renegades lifted Gisbo from his chair and passed him along on top of the crowd as if he were a rock star. Feeling weightless, Gisbo managed to catch a glimpse of Falcon clapping and whistling as he was carried aloft. After a few minutes, the crowd put him down and he found himself standing in front of the Renegade Chieftain. The Chieftain rose to his feet, arms folded, looking Gisbo square in the eye.

  "The Eating Champion, a most coveted title among the Renegade line for generations. Why? I haven’t a clue, but I suppose there are sillier titles out there . . . nonetheless, it is coveted. Many thought when my son won a year ago there was nothing like him. He obliterated the previous record and champion with ease. Now, just one year later, here stands a boy not even properly deemed a Renega yet, who struts into our midst and gives us all a great surprise," The Chieftain said with a generous smile.

  “Thank you, sir,” Gisbo said, eyes on his feet.

  "No thanks required son. It is common belief here that those who can fill out their stomachs greatly, also fill out their dreams greatly." Gisbo smiled at this tongue in cheek comment. "However, it is also said those who fill out their stomachs greatly now will suffer greatly later . . ." There was much laughter and applause at this reminder.

  "Now, we can't deem you Eating Champion without first deeming you a proper Renega. So, as a reward, I will initiate you myself, Gisbo. If your Class Master would join me at my side." Falcon reached under his bench, retrieving a folded mass of blue, before making his way forward.

  "I present to you the traditional blue uniform of the Renegades. We garb ourselves in the colors of the proud Phoenix as Renegades of old once did. May we never forget where we came from and honor their memory and traditions," Falcon said as he handed the uniform to Gisbo, who gladly accepted. Falcon stepped back to take his place beside the Renegade Chieftain, standing out brilliantly in his pure white uniform.

  "Come forward, my boy, and repeat after me," the Chieftain said as Gisbo nodded.

  The Chieftain shot his fist outward and Gisbo did the same. “Strength of Body.” The Chieftain raised two fingers to his forehead. “Strength of Mind.” The Chieftain then moved his arm downward in a bow and quickly brought it back up, stamping it across his chest. “Strength of Heart. May they remain pure, forever leading you true.” Gisbo finished, mimicking the chieftain’s actions.

  "Gisbo, you who has been chosen by the noble order of the Renegade, the elite. You are one who disbands from the wide path, from conformities and party ties, and forges his own path, embracing his own ideals, dreams and way of life. In this, all of us share a common bond, a focus, and a belief in a higher power that granted us his brilliant design and purpose. We embrace each other’s dreams and strengths while learning from one another every day. We are not one, we are not all the same and we do not force our lifestyles upon others. It is a choice to live here and in this realization, we have peace. Do you, Gisbo Falcon, solemnly swear to uphold the customs of old and write such teachings across your heart? Is this your wish?” the Chieftain asked. Gisbo answered without a second thought, “Yes, sir.”

  “You choose in haste, with confidence. It is on this day, in the company of righteous men and woman, that we pass the title of Renega to you and with it, your manhood. You now join the ranks of the brave men and woman before you. It is your time to enter a world of moral decay and indecency, a world that has not proven friendly to those who lead lives of integrity and honor. A time unlike any previous era, in which more fortitude, more integrity and more strength will be needed than ever before. The time draws near where good will be considered evil and everything evil is fast approaching good. A time of testing, learning, companionship and opportunity awaits. A righteous band of warriors we are and a righteous warrior you shall be. To serve, protect and save a world bordering chaos in utter selflessness . . . kneel, to symbolize your servitude to others,” said the Renegade Chieftain. Gisbo did as ordered, dropped to one knee, and bowed his head.

  “I present your Class Master, Renegade Falcon,” the Chieftain stepped aside and Falcon loomed over him with his sword drawn, resting it gently on Gisbo’s right shoulder.

  “Strength of Body, Strength of Mind, Strength of Heart. It is in these areas I hereby swear to pour myself, fully, for your growth. All that I know and all that I ever will know is yours. Do you accept my name as you accept my offer of self?” Falcon said with a sparkle in his eye. Gisbo looked up to match his g
aze. Just looking at his new teacher made him hope that he could be like him one day. He nodded and a selfless desire flooded him. He was feeling something entirely new: reverence.

  “Strength, use it for those less fortunate. Wisdom, never withhold it, spread it like good news. Heart, keep it pure, protect it and have the will to follow it. Do you swear to abide by these principles?” Falcon queried. Once again, Gisbo nodded. Falcon tapped his left shoulder, then his right, followed by his forehead, with the tip of his sword and, in one final maneuver, he sliced a clean line on Gisbo’s lower cheek, leaving an inch-long cut that bled down his neck.

  “This cut will soon be a permanent scar. May it always remind you of what you swore to do this day and that yes, you do have what it takes. I welcome you into the fold and present to you all . . . Renega Gisbo Falcon!” Falcon took off Gisbo’s old tattered headband with a flourish and replaced it with the official Renega headgear. With a strong hoisting motion, he lifted Gisbo to his feet, raising his fist to the sky, as they were met with hoots and hollers from the crowd. Gisbo tried to smile, but really couldn’t as he found himself jumping from the stage, mouthfuls of puke spraying everywhere. Surprisingly enough, even louder applause and laughter followed this.

  Ranto just glared, arms folded with hate in his eyes.