Renegade Reborn by J. C. Fiske Page B

in his wrists became apparent. He went to scratch at his right wrist, only to realize he couldn’t. Ropes bound both of his wrists, and he was dangling thirty feet above a dark, seemingly bottomless pit.
    “What, what the hell?” Gisbo asked groggily.
    “For one so full of shit, it’s amazing the ropes haven’t snapped.” A familiar voice from below said. Gisbo looked down to see Rake, and Jackobi standing around the rim of the pit.
    “Huh?” Gisbo asked, blinking furiously.
    “Any idea what’s below you?” Jackobi asked.
    “Well, as far as I can tell, a black pit and a couple of asshole friends?” Gisbo snapped. “Get me down!”
    “For one so full of doubt, you said that pretty confidently.” Rake said.
    “And what the hell is with you and these shit jokes all of a sudden, Rake?” Gisbo asked.
    “We are on Daresnap Isle, located a ways away from the place that the Strife’s call home. Below you is the entrance to the infamous Glaknabrade prison, or rather, what’s left of it. The Strife’s, low on morale, have banded together, walling themselves in their home, and left this place and its remaining prisoners to their own devices, and madness.
    Since then, this place has become a homing beacon and a birthing ground for some of the worst Drakelings imaginable. Here, rumored to be the very birthplace of the Dragon itself, they devour one another, becoming better than the sum of their parts, to possibly, rise to the level of a Drakeknight, naturally, if you could call it that, beyond Drakearon’s encouragement, only leaving when they receive an order to retrieve a lost sheep or two from Drakearon’s flock.” Jackobi said.
    “That’s nice and all, but, why am I hanging over it?” Gisbo asked.
    “Simple. We’re making their lives easier. We’re bringing the lost sheep, to them,” Rake said.
    “WHAT!?” Gisbo yelled, shaking desperately at his ropes.
    “This is what is called tough love, Gisbo. The world is too dark a place now for someone with your potential to do nothing but drown in liquor, vaginas, and self-pity. Remember our promise, Gisbo? When one of us crosses the line? I’m fulfilling my end of the deal . . .” Rake said.
    “This, THIS ISN’T WHAT I MEANT!” Gisbo yelled, shaking at his binds.
    “But it’s what I meant. Due to that mark on your head, you will be like a torch in the night. The Drakes down there, and across this island will sense you, smell you, and they will attack. If you wish to survive, and escape this island, you must remove all doubt. You, and you alone, must find a reason to live again. If you don’t, you’ll die, or worse, end up as Drakearon’s lap dog. Really, it’s quite simple when you think about it.” Rake said, folding his arms.
    “This isn’t simple, it’s insane! This is . . .” Gisbo started.
    “Extreme? Yes, with such extreme pain and sorrow haunting you, it will take equally extreme measures to heal you. Gisbo, I’ve never seen you back down from a challenge in your life. Right here, right now, you need to decide who you are. Are you Gisbo Falcon, Renegade, Man-Phoenix? Or are you Gisbo Falcon, Mopey, Pussy Ass Bitch?” Jackobi asked, with a snide smile. In that moment, he was Foxblade Dreadka, returned from the grave.
    Gisbo’s eyes narrowed onto Jackobi.
    “See? There! There it is! That’s the look! You’re still in there somewhere, I know it. No one beyond salvation stares into the void of Drakearon’s influence, every day, and says, ‘no’.” Jackobi said.
    Gisbo thought about that.
    “All of us have a hole inside, and we all try to fill it with something of our choosing, but we’re different, Gisbo. We’re killers. For people like us, we don’t get to choose. That dark part of us, the beast inside fills that emptiness right up. The best we can do is throw them a few scraps every now and then, to keep them there. That is our struggle, that is our battle, but it allows us to carry a little darkness on our backs so that