by J. C. Fiske
Gisbo, breathing hard, sat up and gazed at the water with a deep longing in his eyes. Falcon smiled and tossed it to him. Gisbo raised it to his lips and downed the entire bottle, dropped it to the floor with a clatter, and let out a deep sigh before collapsing on his back.
“I didn’t ask for . . . a nut shot though . . . ” Gisbo said through pants.
“A real opponent does not take requests from his enemy. You do what you must to take out your enemy quickly and efficiently by any means necassary. Your thoughts are getting in the way. You are thinking about how to best me. Embrace nothingness, calm your mind, and let your body react. If you can master such, you will already be attacking while your opponent plans his attack. Understand?” Falcon said, rising to his feet.
“Okay, break’s over. Now, let’s see if you’ve learned anything,” Falcon said. He adapated an offensive stance and ignited his elemental ring. His body reacted as his veins flushed with a fiery glow, stopping at his heart as it pumped much faster and looked like a glowing red orb. Gisbo sat up, grinned, and ignited his own.
“Let’s go, old man!” Gisbo said. He hopped nimbly to his feet and charged at his father with a yell. Falcon rolled his eyes as his son approached, and he let loose with a straight kick to Gisbo’s mid-section. Gisbo collided with it head on and was once more sent back to the ground. He would have wailed in pain, but the wind was knocked out of him.
Gisbo curled into a fetal position. Falcon shook his head and just sighed.
“That wasn’t exactly what I meant. You are letting your battle rage get the best of you. You either control it or it controls you. I think . . . we should call it a day,” Falcon said. He bent down to help his son to his feet. Gisbo slapped it away and rose to a knee with a grunt of displeasure, eyeing Falcon with something fierce in his eye.
“No! Two months of this crap and I still can’t lay a finger on you! Tonight’s the night I do it! Now, let’s go!” Gisbo yelled as he tried to rise to his feet, but to no avail. Falcon sat down beside his son.
“In some cases, a Berserker rage will tip the balance in your favor, but in most cases, especially against a seasoned fighter, you are nothing but easy. They will twist your rage and your movements against you. These past few months, you’ve either been thinking too much, or allowing your primitive instincts to control you. Something’s been bothering you; you are smarter than this. Now, what’s wrong?”
Gisbo managed to rise into a sitting position and, after a few pants, managed to speak. “I, I really don’t know. It’s . . . hard to find the words. Ever since that night in the cave, my whole world just flipped upside down. My mind constantly plays over that night. It has been for months! This stinking thinking is gonna drive me crazy!” Gisbo said, grabbing at his head. Falcon nodded.
“All that it means is that you are growing up, and with growing up, comes maturity. You aren’t used to thinking heavy thoughts of personal responsibility because, well, you’ve never had to before. That night in the cave, you made a decision that affected people’s lives. No easy task, and now you are wondering if you made the right decision or not, letting them get away. Am I right?”
“Yeah, yeah, I guess that’s a part of it. I’ve seen a lot of stuff over this past year; hell, I’ve even talked to the Phoenix, or IAM or whatever, personally, but I just still have my doubts that one being knows all and I should just obey on a whim. If he knew everything, why does he allow people like Purah to become Sybils? The powers that guy has at his disposal. DAMN IT! See? This is what I’m talking about! Why am I thinking stuff like this? I’m starting to sound like freakin’ Rolce! I hate this! I just want to shut it off!” Gisbo said. Falcon put a hand on his son’s shoulder.
“It’s called the burden of life, son. It’s something we all must carry. Long as you keep busy, such thoughts will stay at bay,” Falcon said as he rose to his feet, stretched with a groan, and started to walk away.
“Hey! Where you goin’?” Gisbo yelled. Falcon spun around with surprise.
“Can I help you?” Falcon asked. Gisbo cracked his knuckles, tightened his ring finger, and ignited his essence.
“Yeah, stand right there so I can kick your ass! I told you I’d hit you tonight! I’m a man of my word!” Gisbo said as he charged his Class Master once more. Falcon smiled.
“Your funeral,” Falcon said, charging forward, as well. Gisbo snickered as he pointed his ring forward in a tight fist and fired a blast of red essence at Falcon. The shot rang true, but Falcon merely whacked it aside with a fist, ricocheting it back at Gisbo. Wide eyed, Gisbo leaned back as if doing the limbo as it shot over his nose and deep into the darkness of the cave, where a small, distant rumble could be heard. When Gisbo looked up, he was eye to eye with his Class Master.
“Damn it,” Gisbo squeaked.
“Hi,” Falcon gibed as he plowed into his son with a right hook. The strike threw Gisbo off balance for a moment before he regained his footing. Falcon’s eyes lit up at this.
“Two months ago, that strike would have knocked you down. Your balance is improving, as well as the control of your essence to dull pain and force. Well done,” Falcon said proudly.
“Shut up!” Gisbo yelled. He charged once again for his Class Master.
“This somehow feels familiar. The hard way it is,” Falcon said, adopting a defensive stance. Gisbo continued his charge as Falcon fired another straight kick toward Gisbo’s mid-section. This time, however, Gisbo caught his Class Master’s foot with both arms. Falcon smiled as he simply hopped in the air and fired his other foot at Gisbo’s head. Out of the corner of his eye, Gisbo saw it coming and thrust his right forearm into it with a flawless outward block. It was then Gisbo knew he had him. After two months of trying, he knew he was going to finally hit his Class Master.
With relish, Gisbo released Falcon’s left leg and allowed gravity to take over as he charged forward with a palm-strike, thrusting his whole body into it. The blow landed cleanly into his Class Master’s stomach. He watched as Falcon’s face morphed into an expression he hadn’t seen in quite some time . . . pain. But Gisbo wasn’t done. In a final maneuver, he returned his left hand to his belt loop and fired it forward again, this time, containing a red energy burst. A fierce boom echoed across the cave walls as his Class Master flew backward, sliding across the rubble of the cave floor and out of the cave’s entrance, into the white desert sands of Flaria.
Gisbo stood, panting hard, staring at his right hand, then back to the cave entrance in disbelief. He sprinted toward the entrance and out of the cave, looking all around for his Class Master.
“Falcon! Dad! I’m sorry! Are you okay?!” Gisbo yelled in a panic. Suddenly, a figure burst from the sand below him, unable to hide the giant smile plastered on his face.
“You did it, kiddo! You did it! You’re finally ready for the next step in your training,” Falcon exclaimed as he embraced his son in a quick hug, then grabbed Gisbo’s hand and raised it to the sky like a victorious boxer and cheered.
“Wait . . . so, you’re alright then?” Gisbo asked. Falcon laughed heartily.
“My boy, haven’t been better! Oh, look! Right on time for dinner!” Falcon said as a white wolf and an orange, black-striped tiger strutted toward them, each with two dead rabbits in their jaws.
“Good girl, Fao! That should taste delicious!” Gisbo exclaimed as he rushed over to his wolf and hugged her tightly to him. Fao immediately dropped the rabbits and lapped at Gisbo’s dusty face. Akila, Falcon’s great tiger, strutted over and dropped both rabbits at Falcon’s feet. Falcon stroked his own Boon behind the ears and smiled as Akila nuzzled his leg.
“Come on, let’s get these skinned and cooked,” Falcon said as the quartet returned to the safety of the cave.
“I love rabbits, but boy do they give me gas,” Gisbo said. Falcon glared at him.
“Water gives you gas,” Falcon said.
Falcon retrieved his skinning knife and had the rabbits skinned in a moment’s time. Upon completion, he tossed
one for Fao and one for Akila, and conjured a small fire with a Flarian technique that hovered a half a foot off the cave floor in a round, red ball.
Gisbo rubbed his hands together and ran to retrieve his talon sword, a gift made from four of his most favorite people in the world. Just thinking of his two old bosses, Dave and Ernie, as well as his two dear friends, Shaved and Knob, made him homesick for Heaven’s Shelter. A fierce growl from his stomach quickly made him return to the fire, stick his rabbit on the end of the sword, and begin turning it over and over in the fire, relishing in the smell as his Class Master, his recently discovered father, did the same.
“Won’t Karm’s soldiers see this fire?” Gisbo asked. Falcon shook his head.
“Out as far as we are? Not a chance. Besides, most of Karm’s men just go through the motions. For them, coming out here is like a vacation,” Falcon said. He then stared at Gisbo’s rabbit in the fire.
“What’re you doing?” Falcon asked.
“Huh?” Gisbo answered.
“You’re cooking without spices, meathead. Here, sprinkle some of that on the ol’ rabbit,” Falcon said, tossing a shaker that contained what looked like salt and pepper mixed with garlic, oregano, and some dehydrated lemon and onion. Gisbo retrieved his rabbit and sprinkled a generous share, then returned it to the fire. It immediately began to smell much better.
“Too bad you didn’t bring your marinade,” Gisbo said. Falcon shook his head.
“My marinade is made for steak only. It would be a disgrace to touch it to a rabbit. This will do just fine,” Falcon said. They both sat in silence for a while until Gisbo gulped and mustered up his courage to ask a question he long desired the answer to.
“So, now that I finally hit you, you promised you’d tell me about . . . her,” Gisbo said. Falcon looked at his son and Gisbo couldn’t help but notice the sorrow behind his father’s eyes.
“I assume by ‘her,’ you mean your mother? Very well, I suppose a promise is a promise. What do you wish to know?” Falcon asked as he returned his gaze to the fire. Gisbo thought a moment.
“Well, what was she like?” Gisbo asked. At this, Falcon smiled.
“She was the most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on, with a servant’s heart that didn’t know a limit. She spent her whole life improving the lives of those around her without asking anything in return. It was as if she were created just for me. Everything about her was just so perfect. Everything I was awful at, she succeeded at, and vice versa. We had a balance and chemistry that, well, now I’m just rambiling. Just know that if it wasn’t for her, I . . . or you, probably wouldn’t be sitting here today. I’ve . . . I tried to date other women after her. It just isn’t the same. No one out there can ever compare to my Nora and I’m not one to settle for anything, especially when it comes to love,” Falcon said. Gisbo smiled.
“Really?” Gisbo asked.
“Really. Nora Amari. That name should ring a bell, shouldn’t it?” Falcon asked, staring into the fire.
“Amari . . . why does that name sound so familiar?” Gisbo asked distantly, thinking hard.
“I’ll give you a hint. She was Vadid’s wife,” Falcon said.
“What? Are you serious? Then Amari was Nora’s, I mean, my mom’s, Class Master?” Gisbo asked. Falcon nodded.
“She was much more than that,” Falcon said.
“She was my mom’s mom, wasn’t she?” Gisbo asked. Falcon nodded.
“Correct. Now go ahead, put the rest of the pieces together,” Falcon said as he retrieved his cooked rabbit from the fire and took a small bite. Gisbo retrieved his, as well, and began thinking when suddenly his eyes went wide.
“Wait a minute, so if Amari was my mom’s mom, and Vadid was Amari’s husband, then that would make me Vadid’s . . .” Gisbo trailed off in disbelief.
“Grandson? You are correct,” Falcon said with a grin and took another bite from his dinner. Gisbo nearly dropped his sword as the realization flooded through his body and a big smile stretched across his face.
“I’m Vadid the Valiant’s grandson? Wow, so that’s why I have Man-Phoenix powers,” Gisbo said as he played with the black medallion around his neck which was carved in the shape of a great bird and given to him by Falcon upon graduating from his Renega status.
“No, you don’t have Man-Phoenix powers. You ARE the Man-Phoenix,” Falcon said. Gisbo sighed.
“And just what exactly does that mean?” Gisbo asked.
“You’ll find out,” Falcon said as he pitched his rabbit’s remains for Fao to chew upon.
“I hate how vague you are sometimes,” Gisbo said with a frown.
“You don’t like me being vague? Fine, I’ll tell you something else, but I guarantee you won’t like it,” Falcon said. Gisbo looked at his Class Master with a cocked eyebrow.
“Oh really? What?” Gisbo asked.
“Well, I was sure you would have figured it out based on what I told you. You sure you want to know?” Falcon teased. Gisbo rolled his eyes.
“Just tell me,” Gisbo demanded. Falcon leaned back and pulled a cigar from his pack, lit it, and puffed away.
“Well?” Gisbo asked. Falcon looked at Gisbo with a surprised face.
“Oh yeah, I was supposed to tell you something, wasn’t I?” Falcon said as he blew a smoke ring.
“Fine, forget it then,” Gisbo said. Falcon smiled.
“Oh, calm down, boy. I just thought you should know your good buddy Ranto is, in fact, your cousin,” Falcon said, leaning back and enjoying Gisbo’s reaction.
“What did you say?” Gisbo asked.
“Well, if Nora was Vadid’s daughter, that would make her Karm and Narroway’s sister, which would, in turn, mean Ranto, Narroway’s son, is, indeed, your loving cousin,” Falcon said with a laugh. Gisbo’s mouth dropped open.
“You gotta be kidding me! I’m related to that ass?” Gisbo screamed.
“Be careful what you call him because it means there’s a little part of that ass in you, as well. Don’t you love family?” Falcon teased.
“Does he know this?” Gisbo asked.
“I don’t believe he does, but I’m sure Narroway will tell him the news before you return to Heaven’s Shelter. Your dormant powers, as well as lineage, were to remain a secret,” Falcon said as he took another puff.
“My head’s spinning,” Gisbo said.
“Want to know anything else?” Falcon asked. Gisbo shook his head.
“I’ve had enough for one night. Damn it, this blows, HARD!” Gisbo said.
“Oh, come now, I’m sure you’ll become the best of friends,” Falcon said as he stretched out on his back and blew several smoke rings in the air.
“I actually do want to know one more thing,” Gisbo asked.
“Shoot,” Falcon answered.
“Why is it that you are the only Renegade I have seen that smokes? You know it’s bad for you. I don’t understand how you can fight for so long without your lungs giving out,” Gisbo asked. Falcon raised a finger and planted it on his forehead.
“Because of the bad stuff inside me,” Falcon said. Gisbo knew full well what lay behind Falcon’s headband: a dripping black mark that proved the Drakeness flowed within him.
“The Drakeness makes you do it?” Gisbo asked. Falcon shook his head.
“No, I smoke to battle the Drakeness cravings,” Falcon answered.
“So you replace one addiction with another?” Gisbo asked. Again, Falcon shook his head.
“No. As you know, when I am injured, the Drakeness heals my body within minutes. During this process, I get an unbelievable urge to use my Drakeness powers. When one first gets infected with it, they can use it for a while before totally bending to Drakeron’s will and becoming his absolute and dedicated slave. As for me, I reached that limit. I feel if I allowed myself to use the dark powers within me just one more time, then my willpower would break and Drakeron would own me again,” Falcon explained. Gisbo looked worried.
“Yeah, I get that, but why
do you smoke?” Gisbo asked.
“Smoking damages my lungs, along with a variety of other organs within me. In turn, the Drakeness heals me, but in small spurts over time. Should I stop smoking for a while and get injured from a battle, the cravings would be too great for me to handle as the Drakeness heals my wounds. I wouldn’t be able to resist. So for once, and only for me, smoking is beneficial to my health. Gotta love irony,” Falcon said.
“Can I try one?” Gisbo asked.
“No,” Falcon ordered.
“Please?” Gisbo asked.
“Nope, and if I ever catch you, I’ll tell Rolce to perform a Mind-Link on you and force you to smoke until you puke. How does that sound?” Falcon asked.
“Freakin’ Rolce,” Gisbo said. Falcon cocked an eyebrow.
“Why do you say it like that?” Falcon asked.
“Well, after the whole incident in the cave, he finally got some balls. Enough balls apparently to ask out Kinny Kalloway. Hell, I hardly saw him all summer! And when I did, he wouldn’t shut up about her. So freakin’ annoying! Most of the other guys I hang around with have girlfriends, too, but we still made time to have a blast this summer. Rolce was the only one clinging to his girlfriend like a security blanket. He can be just so damn needy sometimes, gah!” Gisbo said. Falcon chuckled.
“Heh, I remember Moordin was the same back when we were growing up in Heaven’s Shelter. It’s only right he’s Rolce’s Class Master. I told him all the time he could only live it up when he was young, but did he believe me? Noooo, and off he goes and gets married in the prime of his life. Now he won’t give me a moment’s peace! Always wanting to hang out and relive the glory days he missed out on which, in turn, gets me a lecture from Martha, and, in turn, makes me the bad guy!” Falcon said, shaking his head. Both noticed just how similar they were and they erupted into long fits of laughter.
“Well, on that note, goodnight to ya, son. Don’t use up all your essence out there skeeting. You wouldn’t want to go empty a thousand feet in the air. Training starts afresh tommorow morning. You will need your rest,” Falcon said. Gisbo gave a friendly salute.
