Renegade Reprisal (The Renegade Series)

by J. C. Fiske

  “Here, here,” Gisbo said. At that moment, Gisbo heard a familiar, obnoxious yawn come from outside his door.

  “Sounds like Phil’s up.” Gisbo laughed.

  “He sounds just like you,” Grandfield said.

  “Does not! Come on, I’ll introduce you. He’s a bit . . . funny,” Gisbo said.

  “Funny? He’s not weird, is he?” Grandfield asked.

  “Aren’t we all a little weird? You’ll see,” Gisbo said. Gisbo and Grandfield made their way out into the family room and into the kitchen. Phil was busy brewing some coffee, looking like he just finished fighting a baboon.

  “Oy! ‘Allo there, Gizzy. Why don’t ya keep dem sheets o’ yours bundled up when ya roll out of the sack, eh? Keep dem farts o’ yours contained! Whew! You smell rightfully awful!” Phil said, waving a hand in front of his face before taking a seat at the table.

  “No, no, that was my buddy here. Phil, this is Grandfield. Grandfield, this is my cousin . . .” Gisbo started. Phil’s eyes lit up as he interrupted Gisbo and jumped forward.

  “Camlin Ayver Mc’Carley, at your service there, Grandfield! But you can call me Phil! I’ve ‘eard so much about ya from Morry and Gisbo ‘ere! A friend o’ me cousin is a friend o’ mine! But damn, fella, keep a lid on that stinkhole o’ yours, you smell sometin’ fierce!” Phil said as he outstretched a hand. Grandfield laughed, shook it, and he and Gisbo joined Phil at the table.

  “So why do they call you . . .” Grandfield started. Gisbo poked him and shook his head for him not to continue. Phil didn’t seem to notice.

  “Coffee for ya blokes?” Phil asked.

  “Sure! Long as there’s donuts!” Grandfield said, rubbing his hands together.

  “You haven’t changed one bit.” Gisbo laughed.

  “Shut up! How’s a guy like me supposed to survive offa rabbits and bugs for three months? But hey, I did it!” Grandfield said. Phil jerked a thumb over to the cabinet behind him.

  “You ate bugs? Uh, why?” Gisbo asked.

  “I was hungry! Don’t judge me,” Grandfield said.

  “You got issues, man,” Gisbo said.

  “Shutty . . .” Grandfield said, making a snapping motion of a mouth closing with his hand.

  “Top shelf, mate. Brandy for yer coffee, Gizzy?” Phil asked.

  “Cream and sugar, thanks,” Gisbo said.

  “Oy! Grab the cream an’ sugar while yer up there, Granny,” Phil said. Grandfield returned with the cream and sugar. Gisbo and Grandfield poured themselves a cup of coffee with a generous helping of cream and sugar while Phil had a dash of coffee with his brandy. Even Grandfield was shocked by Phil’s lack of restraint as he saw Phil down the brandy coffee in one gulp and immediately refill it.

  “Cripes, man, its like . . . the morning. You gotta slow down,” Grandfield said as he went back to shoving donuts down his throat.

  “Says one suck machine to another . . .” Gisbo said.

  “So this is how it’s gonna be for the next few months, eh, Gizzy?” Grandfield asked. Suddenly, the front door was thrust open and in walked an enormous man clad in Berserker attire. Gisbo recognized him at once as Renegade Groggo.

  “Hey! What in the blue hell do ya think your doin’, boy?” Groggo demanded. Grandfield answered with his mouth full.

  “Mhm, Dad! I . . . um,” Grandfield started. Groggo charged across the kitchen and reached for the box of donuts in Granfield’s hands.

  “After nearly starving to death these past few months, MONTHS! And you can’t even tell your old man you found donuts! Gimme some of those!” Groggo bellowed. A tug of war ensued as Grandfield refused to let go.

  “No! Get your own donuts, fatso! I found ‘em first!” Grandfield said, spraying a mouthful of crumbs as he said it.

  “FATSO!? What!? I’m warning ya, boy! Gimme those donuts!” Groggo yelled.

  “NO!” Grandfield yelled. He managed to free the box from his dad’s grip and turned, running away with them, scarfing them down as he did so.

  “Why, you little . . . give ‘em here!” Groggo yelled as he chased his son around the table in the small kitchen.

  “NO!” Grandfield yelled back. Groggo made a desperate dive across the table, spilling Gisbo’s coffee as he tackled his son to the ground. Both of them wrestled in the spilt coffee, much to Gisbo and Phil’s amusement, until Doug and Barb walked in.

  “What the . . . hey!” Doug sighed before continuing. “Gah, who let these lumoxes in here?” Doug said, palming a hand down his face.

  “Let go!” Grandfield yelled.

  “Never!” Groggo yelled back. Barb calmly walked to the cabinet on the far side of the kitchen and retrieved another box of donuts. Upon the sight of another, full box, father and son stopped what they were doing and looked upon the box as if it were a holy relic.

  “Yes, that’s better, a box for each of you if you promise to clean this mess up and, goodness, hurry up! The introduction ceremony is about to begin. You can’t go with spilt coffee and donuts all over you, chop-chop,” Barb said, clapping her hands together. Both Groggo and Grandfield rose to their feet and quickly cleaned up the mess, gazing at the boxes of donuts on the counter as they did so. Within moments, everything was cleaned and they were out the door, donuts in hand.

  “See ya in a few, Gizzy!” Grandfield yelled.

  “Oh yeah, and nice to see ya again, McCarley family, so sorry ‘bout all this and . . . HEY! TUBBO! Why do you get the new box? Get back here!” Groggo started. He slammed the door behind him. Doug breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Couple of kids, those two. Big kids. So, you ready to go to the ceremony, Giz? I’ll be representing you in your Dad’s absence,” Doug said.

  “Yeah, let me just go get my uniform on,” Gisbo said. He ran to his room and quickly changed. With that, the entire McCarley family made their way out the kitchen door. The balconies were flooded with people, and it took some time to make their way through the crowd and down the stairs to the arena floor below. Gisbo’s heart skipped a beat to see so many familiar faces at once, and nearly everyone rushed up to meet him.

  “Gisbo!” Kinny yelled. She ran and embraced Gisbo in a tight hug.

  “Kinny! How ya been? Oh! And hi, Doctor Kalloway!” Gisbo said as he released Kinny and also hugged Kinny’s mom.

  “Good to see you again, Gisbo! Especially good to hear you’ve been staying healthy!” Kalloway said.

  “Okay, okay, enough, I gotta know, are the rumors true? Did you really get here a month before all of us?” Glinda asked with a narrow-eyed look. A tall, slender woman with black-framed glasses over her bright green eyes and the same bright red hair as Glinda stepped forward. She was brandishing the same narrowed look as Glinda and wore Nazarite attire.

  “Yes, I would like to know the same. A Class Master such as yours is not one to let his guard down. I can’t imagine a neophyte such as you, as Glinda so tells me, striking such a skilled warrior. I was hoping he’d be here, what with his gleaming eyes and his rippling pectorals and . . . ugh,” the woman started. She quickly coughed nervously and put back on her serious compsure, thrusting out a hand to Gisbo. “Oh, and I don’t believe we’ve met, young Gisbo. My name is Renegade Bicknill, Glinda’s mom, Nazarite Class, above and beyond notches,” Bicknill said. Gisbo took her hand with a forced grin.

  “Um, yeah, nice to meet you,” Gisbo said. It felt awkward hearing a woman talking about his dad’s good looks. And what’s a neophyte? Gisbo thought.

  “Likewise,” Bicknill said. There was an awkward pause for everyone present. Not knowing what else to say, Bicknill quickly blushed and pushed up her glasses with a finger, turned, and strutted away. Gisbo turned to face Glinda.

  “That was . . . weird,” Gisbo started.

  “Lets not talk about it, ever,” Glinda said, glaring at her mother, embarrassed.

  “Well, anyway, good to see we’re talking again, Glinda! And yup! The rumors are all true. What can I say? I’m just that damn good!” Gisbo said, flexing and fla
shing a smile. Glinda laughed loudly, washing Gisbo’s smile away.

  “Oh, please, all luck, I’m sure, and no, I’m still upset with you for what you did to Anakah,” Glinda said. Gisbo rolled his eyes.

  “Listen, that wasn’t . . .” Gisbo started.

  “But . . . I really have no choice but to bond with you. We will all need each other, what with those green idiots standing over there. You’re the lesser of two evils, Gisbo,” Glinda said.

  “Well, gee, thanks,” Gisbo muttered. The Renegaras found themselves looking across the arena where five boys, clad in green, stood watching them with wicked smirks. Grandfield was right; Gisbo immediately felt the familiar pulse of fury flush within him, especially when he laid eyes on Malik.

  “And that includes you, too, Rake,” Glinda stated. Gisbo noticed Rake, all alone, leaning against the stair railing. He didn’t look up when he answered.

  “Humph,” Rake grumbled. Kinny’s eyes flashed with anger.

  “Kinnyyyy,” Grandfield warned, arriving on the scene. Groggo, Doug, and Kallaway, along with Glinda’s Class Master, Bicknell, all made their way to the other side of the arena with a wave to their students.

  “Glinda’s right, we’re all going to have to stick together. Rake may be a butthole, but those guys over there are hairy, crap-filled buttholes!” Grandfield said.

  “That’s quite the, ugh, image there, pal,” Gisbo said.

  “And Rake, buddy, come on, man, lighten up a bit,” Grandfield said, munching on his donuts.

  Rake didn’t validate Grandfield with a response. Grandfield shook his head and threw his arms up in the air.

  “Would you stop eating? Jeez, man,” Gisbo said. Grandfield was about to answer him back when they noticed the Strifes were now making their way toward them, Malik leading the way. The chatter quickly stopped among the Renegaras.

  “Hm, here we go,” Gisbo stated, feeling his blood boil. The group of Renegaras, including Rake, stared intently at the Strifes before them, measuring them up with haughty gazes. They all cocked glances at each other and snickered. The boy to Malik’s left spoke.

  “They just let anyone be Renegaras nowadays, eh? Look, two chicks and a fat ass . . . practically a farm.” The boy was average height and wore Shininja garb, except colored green. A pair of emerald eyes popped from above his face mask and his black hair flowed down in a high ponytail.

  “Nah, Stave, the fat ass could double as the barn. He’s big enough. How’s that donut, fatty?” said a boy to Malik’s right, sporting Nazarite attire. He spoke in a silky voice to match his silk-like, flowing blonde hair, cleft chin, and gleaming blue eyes.

  “What . . . what did you say?” Grandfield stammered, face red with anger as he dropped his donut to the ground, stomped on it, and began to strut forward toward the boy. The boy laughed, amused by Grandfield’s anger.

  “Look out, Quil, he might try sit on you,” Stave said to the blonde-haired Strife. Grandfield did not take his eyes off either Strife, standing before them and staring them down. Being nearly a foot taller then each of them, Grandfield did it quite easily.

  “Grandfield, calm yourself. Don’t try anything foolish. Gisbo, stop him,” Glinda pleaded. Gisbo crossed his arms and kept his gaze on Malik.

  “I’m not stopping anything. Go ahead, Grandfield, kick both of their fairy faces in. I got your back,” Gisbo said. Malik grinned. Glinda looked over at Kinny for support.

  “Fairy faces?” Malik chimed in, his arms folded.

  “Nobody’s talking to you, assface,” Gisbo quickly snapped back. Malik growled, lowered his arms, and tightened his fists. Gisbo smiled, relishing he touched a nerve.

  “Look, his face kinda does look like an ass with that scar,” Kinny chimed in.

  “Oh! We got a real looker here, fellas. What’s your name, sweetheart? The name’s Randy. Don’t worry, you’ll remember it. Boy, I’d love to go a round with you sometime, sweetie,” Randy said, shuffling his skinny, lizard-like frame. He stood in Nazarite attire and ran his tongue along his stained teeth. He lapped his hand repeatedly and ran it back through his grimy hair.

  “In your dreams, loser,” Kinny snapped, grimacing in disgust.

  “Oh, believe me, you will be in my dreams tonight, sweetie. Leave your door unlocked tonight so ol’ Randy can pay ya a visit.” Randy said, grinning. His whole face seemed to tighten up as he did so, making his dewy green eyes look much like a dead cow’s. Disgusted, as well as disturbed, Kinny gritted her teeth and took a step forward until Glinda grabbed her and, with much effort, managed to pull her back. Glinda threw up her hands in frustration.

  “Am I the only level-headed Flarian here? Your ability to show restraint is pathetic, all of you,” Glinda said in huff. Then the fifth Strife, clad in Berserker attire, felt he had a few of his own words to share. He snickered, revealing a missing front tooth, brushed his long bangs out of his brown eyes, and swayed his thick mullet before speaking.

  “Honey, ain’t no woman level-headed. Why don’t you stick to cookin’ and baby makin’ and let us men talk for a while, okay?” the fifth Strife said.

  “You sexist pig!” Glinda screamed. In a flash, Glinda’s Flarian essence exploded from her staff and into the Strife’s hair. It was immediately set afire.

  “Gahhhh!!! I’ll kill you!” the boy screamed. With his head on fire, he rushed at Glinda in a wild charge. Glinda met the boy halfway and, in one swift movement, the lady Renegara jutted her staff forward and plowed the rushing boy in the stomach, halting his charge and sending him crashing to the floor. She threw her staff aside, hopped atop the dazed boy, and began plowing her small fists into his face, hoping to knock out more of the boy’s teeth.

  “I’ll kill YOU, you pig!” Glinda screamed. Stave immediately stepped in and laid a hand on Glinda’s shoulder from behind.

  “I think you should know your place, woman, because if you . . .” Stave started. Suddenly, with a flash of movement behind them, another hand appeared atop Stave’s, quickly followed by a dagger hanging dangerously over the Strife’s Adam’s apple.

  “I wouldn’t recommend trying that. You see, unlike Glinda, I really will kill you,” Rake said. Everyone, especially the Renegaras, stood in shock, watching the usually apathetic Rake stare down the group of Strifes as he held Stave tightly. The knuckles in Stave’s hand popped from Rake’s iron-clad grip.

  “Believe me, he means it,” Grandfield said, smiling and almost feeling goosebumps from Rake’s surprise intervention. Quil walked around Grandfield to face the new combatant. At this point, Flarians and Class Masters were rushing to the scene.

  “Okay, friend, why don’t you just calm yourself down? Cyrus there was just joking, weren’t you Cyrus?” Quil asked, raising both hands in the air. The mullet-haired boy Glinda was pummeling nodded fiercly.

  “I was calm, until you Strife scum began speaking. Your voices irritate me. And you, Stave, is it?” Rake asked, looking down upon the boy in his grasp with a cold stare. “For a Shininja, your reflexes are quite substandard.”

  A growl erupted from under Stave’s mask as the adults began to intervene and break apart the scuffle.

  “Okay, everyone back up from one another and sheath your weapons. This party’s over,” Kalloway ordered. Slowly, very slowly, Renegaras and Strifes backed away from one another and stood in even lines, staring each other down.

  “Well, I think we should, um, just skip the introductions, then. This isn’t Heaven’s Shelter or Glaknabrade. No need for formalities here. We’re Flarians, formalaity has never been our speciality. Gorging ourselves on food and drink? Yes. So let’s get to that, shall we? After the feasting, we’ll give you all a few days to get settled and rest up, and then we’ll see the results of your little training sessions with your Class Masters. You see, we Flarians believe there is only one way to train. And that is . . . without restraint,” Morry said aloud. “Let’s eat!”

  With that, the group dispersed, and Glinda caught up with Rake in the shuffle. She touched h
is shoulder, and the young Renegara stopped and turned to face her.

  “What?” Rake asked tonelessly. A usually straightforward and quite blunt Glinda paused. She twirled the ends of her hair in a quivering finger.

  “I . . . um, I just wanted to say thank you,” Glinda said, giving a rare smile. Rake, however, did not return one.

  “Don’t read too much into it. They were foolish, and I hate fools,” Rake said in a very matter-of-fact tone. He turned and walked away, leaving a bewildered Glinda in his wake. She stood there for a moment until Kinny walked up beside her.

  “Hey, snap out of it, girl,” Kinny said, literally snapping her fingers in front of her face. Glinda shook her head back to reality.

  “Oh, yes, yes, I don’t know what happened to me. I’ve just . . . oh my, what is this feeling I have?” Glinda asked aloud, feeling her skin flush with color as she was unable to take her eyes off Rake, walking away. Kinny rolled her eyes, but she smiled.

  “Glinda, hun, that feeling you got right there, hold onto that and remember it, because if we girls actually sat down and thought about why we liked boys instead of just going with those feelings, well, this world would have died out a long time ago,” Kinny smiled. She then realized Glinda was still lost in a trance. “Glinda, stop it, you’re staring at his ass . . .”

  “I am not! I’ve just never felt this feeling before. Rake, he’s so . . . perfect, in that devil-may-care, damaged kind of way. I just . . . nothing could ruin this moment, nothing,” Glinda said with a large, beaming smile. At that moment, Grandfield and Gisbo jutted past her on their way to food.

  “Hey, Grandfield?” Gisbo asked.

  “Yeah?” Grandfield answerd. Gisbo raised a finger in the air.

  “Pull my finger . . .” Gisbo said. Grandfield followed orders and Gisbo let out a massive fart setting them both laughing hysterically. Glinda was downright beside herself with rage. Kinny put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Remember that feeling, kiddo, because deep down, they’re all the same,” Kinny said with a smile. And with that, they were off to partake in much-deserved feasting.