Renegade Rupture

by J. C. Fiske

  “Vadid inspired Musashi to write his life’s work in a book known as the book of Five Rings based on the way Thera’s energy system worked, whereas Vadid revolutionized the Renegades, which he would later join, under Musashi’s influence and philosophies. Doorways are constantly moving, much like time itself. Their time was short, but what came out of that meeting would affect each of their worlds forever.

  “Vadid told Musashi of his upcoming duel, most likely to the death, of a man of incredible skill, skill that mayhap outranked him. Musashi smiled and asked of the man’s characteristics, rather than skill, which puzzled Vadid. Musashi shared of his own experience. He had also dueled many men to the death and once faced an opponent unlike himself, as Vadid was about to.

  “He told Vadid the secret he used to defeat his opponent. Vadid listened, said goodbye to his friend as their doorway moved on, and each was wiser for their experience. Vadid was finally prepared to face Drakearon upon the sands of Flaria at full moonlight.

  “My father is a glutton for control, especially the world around him. Much like your friend, Ranto, cleanliness and organization to the point of utter compulsion is a necessity before he can strategize, unlike Vadid who adapts to what’s already there, without a desire to change a thing. My father showed up right on time and paced up and down the shoreline, waiting for his opponent.

  “Musashi predicted that Drakearon’s strength was precision and patience. So, he sought to break it by instructing Vadid to arrive three hours late, leaving Drakearon to soak in his own juices of disarray, anger, and impatience, breaking his focus. Vadid arrived at Drakearon’s patience’s breaking point. They fought, and Vadid defeated him, but did not land the finishing blow.

  “Vadid loved to fight, but only to learn the limits of his own body, as well as learn from others, allowing them both to become stronger and wiser for it. Death made it one sided. It was selfish to Vadid. However, he had never faced a man like my father. He had no idea what he could have prevented should he have made that final, killing blow.

  “Embarrassed beyond reason, especially by Vadid’s mercy, Drakearon was a changed man. Thought to be the most powerful, he realized, with horror, that he wasn’t. Even with all the power he had stolen from his victims, all of his work, he had come across a man who was more gifted than him. Why did he get special treatment from his creator? Why not him? Was there a creator? Why did he show mercy? What was behind it all? This defeat drove my father away from fighting for a while as he used the knowledge of the men he had defeated and devoted his life to science to answer the questions that plagued his mind. With it, he lost what little heart remained in favor of his mind.

  “In his first experiment, Drakearon theorized that he could not defeat Vadid because he lacked the physical requirement. Somehow, Vadid was blessed with better genes. That must have been it. Drakearon knew that he had the elemental power, but must have lacked the physical qualities. That’s where I come into this story. My father never wanted a son. No. What he wanted was a perfect body he could control and possess, and thus, I was created, grown, like a plant, in augmented reality and time, as the perfect, flawless human by Drakearon’s own scientific standards.

  “That is why I have such powers, why I can control matter and create it with my mind. Most humans use only 10% of their brain. If you could use more, you could do what I can do, see what I see. Trust me, nobody wants such a burden. Needless to say, once I was created, Drakearon realized that as far as science could take him, he could not implement his own soul within my body. He realized human beings were limited, and more so, we were created that way. There was a wall even he could never cross. So if he couldn’t cross the line, if he couldn’t go above it and reach godhood, he would twist what was already here and force all others below that line. And out of that came the quest for the God Quotient, a scientific way to put himself above all other humans not just in power, no, but to the point where he was needed, and wanted, for all other species to survive. All that was required was eternal worship and sacrifice to his own ideals and moralities, but such moralities couldn’t be forced. They needed to be accepted. I was the perfect guinea pig for the universal morality theory, a theory that stated that within all of us was a universal morality, a code in place to cause guilt. Everyone’s guilt was the same, and those whose guilt wasn’t meant only they had learned to ignore it, or had mental illness. Drakearon wanted to know if such a code existed, and if it did, where did it come from? Did nature versus nurture dictate morality?

  “To test this theory, he isolated me, along with other created beings; some had nurture, others didn’t, and he taught some of us and held others in complete seclusion without influences from the outside world. What he discovered was all of us have pre-programming already within our minds that didn’t need to be taught. Nature, instinct, call it what you will, all it is is another way for scientists to label something that they don’t know or understand. Through his research, he decided that twisted morality wasn’t caused by one or the other, but by a fine mix of the two. With the right instigation, people could be controlled.

  “If you want my opinion, I don’t know if there is an all powerful being in the sky, call it a God or a Deity or a flying turd monster. All I know is that the creation of humanity, the act itself, is nothing more than the act of an egomaniac. Imagine yourself creating beings with free will to love you or not, and if they don’t, you punish them, break them down to their last shred of will so they have nowhere else to turn to, but you. Then you take their love, you feed off of it . . . It sickens me. God, to me, is nothing more than a love parasite, desperate to feed an ego larger than the cosmos. It’s a crazy theory from a crazy man, but guess what? Guess who wants to implement the same course of action, but move the creator out of it and take his place?

  “Drakearon. It’s all the same, all of it, except for one thing that makes his version beyond evil. Drakearon, unlike IAM, wants to take out one important element: Free Will.

  “Whether you like it or not, Drakearon IS coming, along with the Dragon. And when he does, only a fully prepared Man-Phoenix can stop him.

  “In the present, you have failed and Drakearon rules over all. In the present, there is no choice, free will, anger, happiness, life, or death. There are no unknowns! The unknown is what makes life livable. If you know what’s coming down the line, you aren’t living. You’re just existing. Exist to live, never live to exist.

  “The opposite of the unknown is security, which under Drakearon is another word for self-induced slavery. That world is a reality, but now, here, in the past, it can be changed. The Renegade training wasn’t enough for you. I have prepared you the best I can for what’s coming. Your mission, Gisbo, is to survive. Live. The rupture is coming, and though what I have done to you is harsh, inhumane even, your mind is stronger for it. When the rupture came last time, you could not handle it, no sane person could. To save you, to save the present, I had to, I had to . . . You know what? I’ll keep it simple. Live, Gisbo. No matter what, you must survive the rupture,” Vice said.

  “I don’t know what to say. I don’t understand any of this!” Gisbo said.

  “You don’t need to. One foot in front of the other, trust your instincts from here on out, and remember, the moment you give up is the moment everything dies,” Vice said. “My time is up, I’ve said what I’m allowed, and I’m at peace. But first, let me warn you of something. I need to warn you of your cousin,”

  “What of him?” Gisbo asked.

  “Ranto, he’s not done with you yet. Much how Drakearon was changed at the defeat of Vadid, so will he. Never underestimate a gay man, Gisbo. Anyone who can take one up his backside, turn around and smile, has got to be crazy.” Vice said.

  “That’s, that’s horrible . . .” Gisbo said. Vice then breathed out a deep sigh, and looked up at him with sincere eyes.

  “I’m truly sorry for how this had to be. Now, stand still,” Vice said.

  “What? What are you . . .” Gisbo started.
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  “If I could take your place, I would have. I would have given my life for you, for Falcon. I tried, but it just couldn’t be done. Only the Man-Phoenix can take on a Man-Dragon. Only you can do this. I’m sorry for what I’m going to do next. Tell Nina I love her, tell her I’m sorry it had to be this way. I’m sorry this is so confusing, I am, but one day, it will all make sense. For the greater good. I have nothing else to tell you. I wish I could be clearer, I wish I could stop rambling. I know this doesn’t make sense, but . . .”

  There was a noise outside.

  “Now, you’re going to hold still for me. Your father is going to knock down that door in a moment, and he’s . . . going to kill me,” Vice said.

  “What? But . . . but I . . . wait!” Gisbo tried, but he felt his jaw lock up as Vice’s psychic power took over and spoke as quickly and quietly as he could.

  “Everything I’m about to do to you will heal, Gisbo; trust me, it will. You’ll be fine. This has to be real, it has to be natural. And don’t believe a word I’m going to say after this. Understood? Not a word. Every bit of it will be a lie . . . I just wish, I had more time, to get to know you, Gisbo, and help you further, and, I just wish that . . . forget it. As they say, wish in one hand, shit in the other. See what fills up first. For a guy like me, that’s fitting parting wisdom if you ask me. Goodbye, kid. Take care of yourself now, and please, just . . . don’t forget me.” Vice said as he grabbed a knife, along with Gisbo’s face.

  “FALCON! I know you can hear me! I know you’re out there, but you’re already too late! Just like your wife, I’m going to cut up your son. First his ears, then his nose, then his mouth, then his . . .” Vice started.

  The front of the cabin exploded in fire, and standing in the doorway, one with the flame, with a demonic look in his eyes, was Falcon Vadid.

  If Vice had blinked before erecting his force field, he would have died on the spot. Falcon came at him with everything except his Drakeness. In a swift, powerful maneuver, Falcon activated his compression technique and struck out with a mighty swing, sending Vice through the side wall of one room and out the other, right into the canyon. Falcon pursued, leaving a helpless, lock-jawed Gisbo looking through the hole, forced to watch as his father and Vice fought to the death.

  “That’s it! Wow! Do it, do it!” Vice cackled. Falcon gritted his teeth and pointed his ring to the sky, activating his Boon form with a single word. “AKILA!”

  Falcon’s skin became orange, striped fur and glowed like a bright orange coal. Rounded, fuzzy ears replaced his own and he grew a striped tail. With a roar, he didn’t charge, but pounced. His body charged with fire, his metallic-like claws extended, he sliced at Vice, catching him at the forearm and severing it from his body.

  Vice’s forearm dropped upon the canyon floor in a bloody splat. To prevent blood loss, Vice cauterized his wound with pyrokinesis, allowing the Drakeness to patch it up. He tried to counter Falcon’s ability, known as the Claw Touch, the ability to divide matter with a simple touch of a precise claw. Human limbs, boulders, trees, Vice Dastards . . . Nothing could defend against the Claw Touch.

  Vice backed up too far, tripped over Falcon’s tail, and fell. Vice saw Falcon’s raised claw coming down for his face, knowing full well that that claw could even pass through his psychic barrier, but by then, it was already over.

  Vice’s severed forearm, through psychic manipulation, soared through the air. Vice worked the fingers, grasping Falcon’s neck, holding him and pulling him back. Moments later, Falcon’s essence and Boon form left him, as the hand drained his essence. Both fighters rolled to opposite sides, panting hard, and stood on shaky feet.

  “You know what needs to be done, and yet you can’t do it. My father will always have a thumb over you. You won’t unleash your Drakeness, and if you won’t, then you can’t beat me! I’ve already won. You can’t meet me in battle on equal terms,” Vice said as he began to walk toward him.

  “You’re . . . you’re right . . . I can’t,” Falcon said.

  Vice smiled.

  “That’s why I brought someone who can,” Falcon said. Vice felt a tremendous power descend upon him from behind. Hiding this power should have been impossible, unless, like his, it went beyond the elements.

  Vice had time to turn and face the oncoming power before he was struck solidly in the face. With little effort, a fist penetrated his force field, shattering it, and sent Vice flying across the canyon, bouncing, limbs flailing, until a stone halted his path.

  Vice blinked, and then, the mystery attacker was standing over him.

  “Me Uncle Falcon and me Dah always tell me family is the most important ting we have on dis here planet o’ ours, and you, you killed me Auntie Nora. For dat, sorry, mate, but I’m sending your arse straight to the stars,” Phil McCarley said pounding his fists together.

  Chapter Thirty Three: Father and Son

  “Do it now, Phil!” Falcon screamed. But Phil paused, his attention elsewhere, giving Vice time to recover. All Phil could look at, through the hole in the house, was Gisbo, frozen and lock-jawed. Phil never wanted his cousin to know his secret, to see him sober, even going as far as to take the fight with the Mara, Goryelrac, away from everyone’s eyes. What would his cousin think of him? Phil stared at the device on his arm, wondering if he could defeat this foe without resorting . . . to that.

  He wondered if . . .

  Phil took a massive strike that seemed to hit every vulnerable area across his body at once. Phil tumbled about as he looked up to see Vice upon his feet. Falcon warned him of the man’s ability to emit force fields. There was no way. He had to remove the device. When he looked down, ready to tear it off, he realized it was already gone, destroyed and laying a few meters ahead. Phil winced and felt tears of blood well up in his eyes and drip down the sides of his face as the transformation . . . took over.

  His dear cousin, his dear friend, was about to see his true, inner, hallowed self . . .

  Vice Dastard felt matter shift in a direction he couldn’t have predicted, nor ever witnessed. Who was this young man before him? He had essence, but it was entirely of a spiritual nature. What caused his body and joints to shift, crack, and grow like that? Right before his eyes, the young man transformed, and with every passing second, his power grew.

  Out of instinct, Vice reached out with his mind in an attempt to stop Phil from changing, anything to stop him from transforming into something of a power and nature he had never felt.

  No effect.

  Vice reached out with both of his hands and clenched them, a way he found helped concentrate and fire his psychic blast more precisely. This time, the young man froze, but only for a moment. There was no longer any evidence that the young man was even there. He was gone, and Vice realized that the young man was just a doorway for something . . . else. This something else felt him trying to slam the door in its face.

  The monster within acted out of instinct as both of Vice’s arms spontaneously combusted into fire, fire not his own. There was no pleasure to be had from this dancing black and green fire. Vice screamed and lost all chance of halting the rising power. He watched as the boy’s arms and muscles bulged as if small boulders pressed up from under his skin, as his joints snapped, cracked, then grew out of him, stretching and bulging, growing. The young man was now four feet taller and wider than a double-doorway. His skin had turned black with green, cryptic symbols, and his now long, white hair spilled out over his shoulders. Six horns popped out of his head, and blood continued to spill from his black and green eyes.

  “You . . . you’re one of the hallowed ones, the blood bonds, channeling the power of a Vile Lord? Under your control? Impossible . . .” Vice started, only to have to throw up a barrier thicker than he had ever used before as Phil’s eyes blasted two streams of the black and green fire straight at him.

  Not even three seconds passed before Vice understood the barrier would not hold. He dove to one side, out of the way, and stretched out with his power, lifting
Phil off of his feet. Vice intended to fling him high out of the canyon, but the monster rose a mere three feet above the ground and halted itself by its own will. The monster with the six horns focused on him. A moment later, Vice found his own body flying through the air, straight out of the canyon and into the morning sun.

  Powerless, I’m powerless against it, I’m, Vice thought. His thoughts were interrupted when, in a flash of green fire, the monster teleported and joined him in the sky. On the way back down into the canyon, Phil struck out over and over as Vice screamed unintelligible things, taking hits, trying to throw up barriers, igniting the beast with cold and fiery blasts, only to have them bashed aside like annoying flies. A few long minutes later and the two of them finally became affected by gravity and landed in the canyon, causing a fiery explosion.

  There Vice lay, his body broken, his chest, his arms, his skin shredded to ribbons as he bled out and coughed up blood, wheezing, knowing that these were the last breaths he would ever take. Falcon was on the scene in a flash and, with a quick maneuver, attached Phil’s spare device. Phil’s form returned and he took one step backwards, mumbled, and passed out.

  Falcon, not wasting any time, unsheathed his Talon sword and hovered it over Vice.

  “Enjoy these breaths. I’ll give you three more, for old time’s sake, before severing all your ties to this world,” Falcon said when he saw tears erupt in his friend’s eyes.

  “I never killed her . . .” Vice said, coughing up fiercely, “ . . . but you, you had to think I did, old friend. It was, it was the only way . . . the only way for your son, to give him one more chance, one more chance. Like old times, you say? Good, then this is but one more time you owe me for, for covering your ass,” With that, Vice Dastard left the world of the living.