The Renegades

The final confrontation had begun. The repetitious squeal of Hoarder sirens from the outside purged the room in its entirety, as thirteen armored squad cars screeched to a halt in front of the lowly housing structure. Of the seven people in the dismal abode, the one known as Raven was the first to stand. Speaking in a frantic whisper, he began clawing nervously at his silvery hair, and his face, which was two shades paler than usual."How the hell did they find us?"

"That's easy." The answer came from the far end of the room. Knives sat lazily in a armchair some ten feet away from the others. His head , as it often was, perched atop his palm, and had an utterly bored look etched upon his face. Even in the abyssmal darkness that plagued the room, and Ashack's hoarders ready and waiting outside, the extraordinarly handsome man looked cool and collected. His radiant brown skin was flawless even in the dark void, as he rose from his seat, his long glimmering black hair blooming across his shoulders. Rising, he decked his muscled upper body with the meticulously designed crimson jacket. The he never went anywhere without.

All eyes were on Knives, as they often were when he spoke. Even now, in his early twenties, he was a fountain of wisdom. Some, at first, called him "The Mastermind," but he denied it, and took up the equally symbolistic name Knives instead.

"Enigma ratted us out." The wide eyed, skeptical expression on his comrade's faces ushered him to continue speaking. "I knew it before I even came here."

"And you still came?" Raven's voice was stressed to the point of near shouting.

"I had to." Knives told them, "One of you idiots messaged me on a damn street server, and hung up before I could tell you. I could have either chose not to show up like Enigma, or come here. And to prevent myself from being shanked by one of you twenty years from now, I picked the latter."

Brute stood up, caressing his face from the tip of his black bandanna all the way to the edge of his stubbly chin. "Or," he bellowed "you could have alerted the Feds and came anyway. That explains why you came here so late." Brute was always full of quick accusations. Knives eyes flared and he smiled in mock astonishment. "Open up your eyes you dumb ass," he growled. "Those ain't the Feds." Knives spoke in blatant slang, which often indicated extreme anger within him . Brute knew instinctively to back down. "Those are Ashack's secret police, the A.S.P."

Raven, who was closest to the window, gently slid the curtains back just a few centimeters and glanced outside. "He's right."

Knives nodded in expectancy. The sound of the gunmetal gray and blue vehicles motor running was unmistakable. He had the "incident" as he dubbed it, that took place five years ago, to thank for instant recognition. "Those guys, shoot... then shoot again, then ask question later. No one with half a brain would even think of making a transaction with them. Unless, they were half a mile away in the comfort of their own home."

"And have bullet proof doors and windows," Raven added. A quick low laugh was exchanged between the group, before it was back to business.

"How do we get out of here?" Scarlet, who was sitting on the edge of a ragged sofa, made herself known.

"The same way we'd always plan..."

"Come out now!" The wail of a car radio from the outside plummeted into the group's eardrums, as what was supposed to be a negotiator started speaking.

"Come out with your guns up and ready. Because even if you don't... we're still going to make cheese graters out of you!"

"Damn!" Knives eyes widened "That was subtle." He started off towards the back of the house as the others followed calmly. He continued down the dimly lit hall and paused one step away from the sourly painted wall. "Are you ready?" The others nodded. "Quired the raven?" Knives looked directly at Raven who seemed oblivious to the question. "Quired the raven?" He reformed himself. Raven shrugged, and his show of ignorance was met with a swift slap across the face that nearly floored him.

"Dammit!" Knives screamed. "We've been over this! Quired the Raven 'Nevermore!'"

"I don't know anything about Earthern poetry!" Raven rebalanced himself. "Planets' a million miles away."

The front room was enveloped in a plume of smoke and fire as a massive explosion impacted the structure. In the midst descration, a hoard of heavily armed soldiers poured into the room, their brutish armaments ready and lifted. The laser pointers on the tips of their weapons slithered around the base of the room like moths about a dismal flame. The soldiers intricately designed armor was streaked evenly with blue and light gray streaks, and bore Ashack's crest on the left shoulder, a gruesome depiction of a dragon devouring a lion. The A.S.P. soldier's ocular units slowly shifted open and closed, taking all they could into the circuitry.

The group of eight bolted through the breakaway wall before them, just as the A.S.P.became wary of their pressence. They darted into one of the profusion of high speed vehicles that were strewn across the back yard strategically, and with a roar of their engines began speeding away, a hail of bullets trailing each of them. Knives plowed his golden hot rod through a sturdy picket fence with the greatest of ease. And, with a forceful thrust of his foot, his sanctity sky rocketed down the street like a glimmering blur in the wind. His comrades followed for a short distance, and then tore off in their preselected directions, leaving Knives alone. Alone, with his parallel, semi-circled steering wheels. Alone with the A.S.P. squad cars a few hundred feet away from him. But as always, he didn't have a care in the world. Because alone... was always the way he loved to be.

Looking down at his milometer which already read 212, a breeze of relief swept over him. "Thank God for Gearhead." He sighed. The A.S.P. officers were closing in fast, the sounds of their howling motors growing increasingly louder. Knives rolled down his tinted side window and peered at his side view mirror. Before he could even focus his eyes on the reflectant, it shattered to pieces, pierced decisively by a well aimed round, it's broken shards spraying like raindrops in the wind. With shots like that, it would only take seconds to shoot his tires out, and knowing this, Knives veered from the straight road and blasted down a busy intersection. With all the poise and practice of a highly trained sports car driver he evaded obstruction after detrimental obstruction. Most of the A.S.P. unable to mimic his display and crashing into unexpected vehicles,screaming curses all the way. With a stream of flying debris behind him and the wind rupturing through his hair, the daredevil continued his callused disregard for the A.S.P. and streaked down the cybernetic highway. He diverged into a luminescent tunnel which was, with the exception of flooring and ceiling, was made completely out of a glass like material. A solemn round shattered Knives' rear window, and he began zigzagging left and right to avoid the repetitious gunfire.

Knives had always admired the crooked cop movies he had watched since childhood, the one's where the loose cannon protagonist would stop at nothing to apprehend the villain. He'd interrogate henchmen, shoot into crowded intersections, and would continue his pursuit long after his badge and gun were taken. Knives had always loved those movies, but loathed them now. For each and every one of the A.S.P. officers was individually that crooked cop. And they'd stop at nothing until the information was extracted, and he was dead.

Now as Knives stared down the tunnel at the spike train they'd laid out before him his heart pounded. But not in fear. But ecstasy. He began shouting his own words in felicity.

"Nothing in this life is promised! Only its abrupt cancellation! Only when a man lives his life on the edge, and only when all things he has accomplished can fade away in an instant... can he obtain true glory and death!"

Knives stomped on the gas pedal with all the force his legs could muster. The vehicles tires screamed, and the smell of burning rubber leapt into the air as it began climbing to its optimum speed level. Knives was thrown into the back of his seat while still gripping the steering wheel with all of his might. With a single twist of his arms the car began riding up the sides of the smooth tunnel walls. And just as the roads' partition was reached the vehicle had made the ceiling its sanctuary.

The A.S.P. and civilians alike, for the split second it was in view stared up at the perpetrator of this impossible act in astonishment. It was as if gravity took no hold upon him. Knives was frozen in a state of pure satisfaction, and would have remained that way if not for the end of the tunnel fast approaching. He snatched to his right the golden chariot scaling across the tunnel ceiling and resting on the ground just in the niche of time. Knives noticed the bridge was out ahead, and the two neighboring roads were adjacent to it. He'd have turned immediately to survive and would have... if not for another cleverly placed spike trap.

"Smart asses" he sneered, just as his tires began to hiss and flatten. Before he could even gather his thoughts, he was off road, and soaring through the air. At the accelerated rate it was traveling the glimmering craft glided through the air, like a jet at takeoff. Its vast shadow enveloped sections of the sparkling ocean which lay nearly a thousand feet beneath it, as it hovered gracefully. "Smart asses" Knives repeated, firmly slamming his fists into the steering wheel. Upon doing so, the resonating watch on his wrist caught his attention. "Maybe not so smart" he smiled. Knives hastily snatched a slivery, embroidered item from the floor, and expertly climbed through the sun roof and atop the para sailing craft. He then slowly shut his eyes, tilted back his head and spread both arms parallel.

The wind embraced him, hugging itself around his hair and pulling playfully at the imaginary strings of his clothing. He couldn't help but smile. In this moment of peace, he was one with himself. And that brought him all the joy in the world. "Three... " he whispered "two... one" Knives leapt to his right, just as the airborne vehicle began plummeting into the endless sea beneath it.

Before Knives was a foot away from it, he was stripped from the air, the boisterous rumble of flaring engines indicating the means of his disappearance. The fingers of Knives' right hand fit nearly perfectly into the hollow recesses of the Air Trains side door, as he clung victoriously on the side of the elaborately designed train. The Air Train rolled along a nearly invisible magnetic track, bordered every two hundred feet with crescent conductors that kept the road in place. At first glance, the train and Knives would seem to be riding on thin air. And from the truly blissful expression worn on Knives' face, that would seem to be the case.

Even through the fiercely whipping wind, Knives managed to cup his hands atop the roof of the Air Train, and hauled himself up effortlessly. At first he could barely stand, but after twisting the dial on the side of his shoe's sole, the force of the wind was no longer an impairment.

"The first Air Train always arrives at one P.M. and departs no later than 1:10. " Knifes crossed his arms "It 'ought' to be smooth sailing from here on out."

"You think so wouldn't you?" Knives raised an eyebrow, as the ironclad speaker, and several others climbed through the mechanized shafts that riddled the Air Train roof. The A.S.P. troopers stood, their gun metal gray and black rifles glaring as the dazzling sun overhead refracted off their steel bodies, clad in armor. The menacing weapons they wielded were pointed directly at Knives, but he stood unfettered, not even flinching.

"This is where the sidewalk ends, Bloody Knives!" The lead trooper stepped forward threateningly.

"Ever wonder why they call me Blood Knives?" Knives extended his left arm forward holding the regal sheath he'd removed from his first ride. He smoothly gripped the intricately crafted handle and with a slow pull welded the incredibly unique looking blade. For a moment, the A.S.P. stared mesmerized, ensnared by the midareba which was etched artfully across the entire blade. Without the slightest indication, Knives hurled his heavily embroidered scabbard high into the air, all eyes resting upon it.

In an inhuman flash of brisk footsteps Knives closed the distance between he and the foremost soldier to mere inches. With a single vicious swing of his katana, Knives gored the soldier before him in a brilliant display of speed and elegance. While steadily falling, Knives stepped onto the A.S.P. soldier, and using the falling body as a pole vault kicked off into the air. The remaining A.S.P. could only watch in horror as Knives flipped backwards, and gripped the descending sheath before landing with angelic prominence.

The deafening clatter of heavy machine guns pulsated through the atmosphere, as the four remaining soldiers emptied their magazines. Knives moved like an animal, his swift movement completely unpredictable. Even as a storm of munitions tore towards him, not a single round skimmed his flesh. While still dashing, the swordsman spun, his blade erected. In a calculated gyration of grace and beauty, two soldiers standing adjacent to one another were run through cleanly. Their bodies falling slack against the iron floor beneath them. The final two soldiers stood huddled together, concentrating their culminated gunfire. In a chain of indecipherable footwork, Knives were lost from the gun's cross hairs, for only half a seconds' time, but that is all it took. The warrior delivered a stylish slash upon one of his foes, and kicked the other overboard with a mighty thrust of his foot. The last officer, gripped their wounded side to prevent blood loss, as they struggled away on all fours.

Knives bent down and snatched off the A.S.P. officer's helmet, tossing it carelessly off into the wind. As the wounded trooper crawled - back turned - away from Knives he steadily lifted his sword for one final stroke.

The soldier turned, facing forward, staring directly into Knives' eyes. Even though they constantly twitched and jolted, in fear of being impaled, the magenta ringed irises of the soldier were "A thing of beauty." And without question so was the flawless skin, and even the black sweat matted hair that clung to some areas of the face. Surprisingly, this trooper had a face that could easily stop both men and women in their tracks, and Knives found even himself entranced briefly before speaking slyly. "You should have stuck to beauty pageants." He grinned inched his sword forward. The hoarder pressed their voluptuous eyes and lips together tightly and began breathing heavily. It was in that moment that Knives noticed a pair of faultless budges. The hoarder was a woman.

The sound of Knives resheathing his sword was like music to the woman's ears, as she looked up at him in surprise. He bore an equally confused expression.

Knives had never been able to kill a woman. Something in the way their eyes locked on him in the moment of truth, or the ear splitting screams they'd engage in while begging him for mercy. But that's what Knives would tell his friends. The truth was he could not bare to see a woman cry. A man's tears to him were fake at times, and when they weren't, the pitiful show of feminism, disgusted him. A woman's sorrows were almost never feigned, and they bit into his very soul every time he looked into them. Knives at first classified this as naivety. But dubbed it a weakness after being shot in the back by a woman he spared. Even so, he would not kill the sylph, and yet again he had the "incident" to thank for this.

Knives bend down beside the woman, a soft look in his eyes. The soldier eyed him as well, a less frantic look on her face.

"You're the prettiest woman I've ever seen." He admitted candidly. "So I pray the next time we meet, you stay out of my way." Knives walked to the side of the Air Train and upon reaching the edge he turned one final time. "I wouldn't want to waste such a face."

With that Knives, dashed over the side of the craft carelessly, his arms crossed in confidence as he plummeted head first. Using his iron sheath adequately, Knives caught the edge of a lone support beam, and began sliding proudly to the base of the structure before him. The Air Train above, rode into its landing track and was out of sight in an instant.

Knives stared up at the structure before him. The city of Shercon, was heralded atop a mountain some hundred stories high. And in order to reach the colossal precipice above, he'd have to climb every inch of the procreated structure to make it to the top. Knives took three steps up the mountainside before sliding down its muddy tracks and back into the murky waters that surrounded him.

"Damn!" he grunted staring up at the city above. The beating rays of the sun met his eyes and Knives shielded them with an extended palm.

"Was it all worth it?" he thought aloud as he began vainly scaling the rock formation.

Chapter 2