Rocket Knights: The Second Coming
Legal Disclaimer: I hereby declare I take no credit for anything to do with
Rocket Knights, I own none of the characters originally published in the
game. Acros "Ax'" Gear is my own creation and is not allowed to be used
without my permission, as are other characters in this story of my own
creation.
Now onto the Story.
Introduction: Around twenty or so years after the story in Sparkster is when this takes place. Sparkster and Axelgear have not been seen in Elhorn for many years, and so the first bit of this story is background information.
5 years before current time:
The cries of a female opossum ring out through the hospital halls and are shortly silenced after. In her hands lays a tiny little child. The only one born, oddly enough. Normally there is a litter of children, but no, he is the only survivor. The doctors quickly clean off the blood that he is covered in and hand over the small, shivering mass that is the newborn to his mother. The tiny creatures eyes open slowly, furless and thin. Unusually so, and the doctors simply clean up and try to make them comfortable, then leave them. The newborn is given little time to live, but the mother is still allowed her time with him. She folds back the blanket he is wrapped in and looks upon his face. She mutters a few words, naming the supposedly doomed baby "Acros Gear..." Then both she and the infant drifted into a deep sleep.
Current time set: Elhorn City, the gleaming beacon for a bright future. With the help of ancient teachings of the Rocket Knights taught by Sparkster before he left, the academies have been reopened and many young children have been brought there and raised to fight and defend freedoms and protect Elhorn. The students all rise in the mornings, assemble, meet with their teachers, breakfast, lessons, lunch, more lessons, dinner, official training, and then their only real free time at the end of the day.
But, beyond the official rankings and statuses, it was still a school. And like any school, it had its classes, the Popular, the Jocks, the Geeks, the Misfits, all of them. And in the center of the laughing at Misfits was a young Rocket Knight called Acros. Abused for not only having no Father, but his Mother died in childbirth shortly after he was born. He lived though, not expected to, grew and got stronger. Never really as strong as the others. Frail as a fallen tree limb really, but alive and growing. About 5, no one is really sure, he never spoke a word for years, and now, he still has trouble speaking. Usually just making a simple sound. Laughable essentially, a frail, thin, weak and almost mute child, and he was in the Rocket Knight Academy. Its puzzling how he got into the academy, but no matter what the training or lesson, he seems to excel, regardless of his physical problems. He is a skilled warrior, an excellent tactician, and rather good at Math, but sadly, his skills do not let him fight as he can barely lift a sword, his tactics are useless as he cannot relay them to others, and his Math skills are unlikely to help on the battlefield. Still, he managed.
As the morning bell rang, Acros followed routine, climbed from bed, brushed teeth, changed into armor, made the bed and put his things away in order. He walks out into the halls and stands at attention. The teachers file down the halls and stand in front of the classes, in official armor and uniform. They all shout out a unanimous command "ALL KNIGHTS! STAND TO ATTENTION!" They all placed their hands at their sides, ankles together, salute, hands back to side. The Teachers barked another command out "ALL KNIGHTS! DRAW SWORDS!" Acros heart froze. He draws his sword, but the weight of it, forced to hold it out for inspection, his small arms could barely hold it. His arms shook like a Chihuahua in Alaska. The nearby cadets looked, noticed, and snickered, but the Teachers sharp glares shut them up faster than anything else could have. The Teachers filed past each class, inspecting the clean-ness and polished texture of each blade. Acros heard various commands "CLEAN THAT SWORD TILL IT SPARKLES!" and "YOU CALL THAT CLEANED?! 50 PUSHUPS!" Acros dreaded he may have to incur some sort of punishment every day, and he couldn't bare it. The teacher came to him and looked over the blade and glared. He knew he hadn't cleaned it well enough. WHY hadn't he cleaned it the night before. Ah well, he knew it was coming. The Teacher gave a sharp response "Well, well. I've been waiting for this kind of slip-up. KNIGHT! YOU WILL ACCOMPANY THE ADVANCED CLASS AT LUNCH! YOU WILL NOT RECEIVE EXTRA POINTS FOR IT AND SUFFER!" He tried an attempt at a reply, but it sounded like he had a mouth full of peanut butter "Nnng. Mmhmf..." He says, his second remark just him giving up. He sighs, knowing not only does he have no reason, but he can't even state it. He sighs, depressed. The others snickering at him. This though, the Teachers could not stand and their yells resound "HOW DARE YOU LAUGH AT HIS DISABILITIES!? DETENTION TO ALL WHO LAUGHED! THOSE WHO DO NOT COME WILL HAVE SWORD PRIVELIGES REVOKED FOR A WEEK!" Now that was a threat. Losing sword privileges was like having your armor taken. The next rounds, you wouldn't stand a chance. The rounds were weekly battles for raise in status. If you lost, you usually fell a rank. Sometimes two. Acros had always held his own. Never done well enough to advance but never fell. The Teacher turned back to Acros "Now Knight, is it clear, you will report to the advanced class today at lunch time. Got it?" Acros could smell the rancid breath of the teacher and turned his nose slightly away. He muttered a "Yng." And nodded his head slowly. The teachers returned to formation and nodded. The Cadets left to breakfast. Acros sighed, multiple word flew through his mind, all with the same meaning. The cafeteria was a sterile room, metallic walls, unlike the decorative style the rest of the academy was dressed in. The cold feeling added to the chill that ran through it, and so everyone was happy to just get their food and get to a table. The morning menu; Cereal, Cereal, Oatmeal and a few other things including rather good pancakes that would get you beaten up over. Acros took his food quickly and went to a table, sat alone, as per usual, and ate his breakfast. His stomach growled at him but he ate slowly, not happy considering the earlier events. He always sat alone with the same breakfast. Nothing changed, especially in a place built entirely around rules and tradition. No, not here. Never. But today wouldn't be one of those days. A second young Rocket Knight joined him. He couldn't tell who it was, they had their visor pulled down all the way, which made eating awkward but apparently they managed. He would have asked them who they were, but it would have made a bigger fool out of himself. No point. Best be a mute than an idiot. He continues to eat until the other one said directly to him "You're a lot better than the others, y'know?" He manages a "Mmf?" His attempt at a Me? Still, they seemed to understand "Your from a lot better a heritage than the rest of these simpletons. You're the son of a great Rocket Knight. Axelgear. Although he was a Dark Rocket Knight, he was still one of the best. And his blood flows through you. You can't go on allowing yourself to be beaten by the rest of these useless ones." Obviously this was a shock to Acros. He looked at the shielded person like they were insane, they got up and simply left. He looks with surprise as they rocket from a window. The metallic walls are padded as silencers, so little is heard more than a windily whisper. Acros tries to get a teacher but none of them seem to find anything. He looks about outside. Then the first bell rang. Time for class. The first class, how to operate the Rocket-packs. The very things that made them Rocket Knights. Acros locked the large tank of both fuel and wiring onto his back and wrapped his Tail around his waste. He didn't need another thing for kids to insult him on. He snickered at the thought of that happening to someone and was slightly ashamed he would wish pain on someone, but it was calming to think of someone ELSE getting insulted for once. The Teacher barked out the usual commands and the Knights flew up. Today was Aerial Combat, which was next to impossible but simple as well. He drew his sword and held it steady. The forced from the Rockets made it like it was a wind breaker, cutting the air in front of him to allow him through. There was a loud clang as another Knights blade struck him in the back and he spiraled down. He managed to right himself and tried another charge, and struck with vengeance. As they were know low to the ground, his opponent hit first. Acros landed quickly after and put his pack aside and sat down. The teacher walked in front of them and said "Now, today you will be having a special guest, the famed and long since unseen Rocket Knight, Sparkster." They all gasped "Sparkster finally returned and demanded to see the recruits. You being the main class will be the first shown." They all nodded vigorously with excitement. Sparkster. The name alone now signified glory. After the defeat against Axelgear everything about him became a treasured knowledge. Acros sighed though. He knew the origins of his name, it brought shame and despair really. Sparkster's greatest adversary, a dangerous and constant evil. He even had his helmet modeled in a similar fashion. He looked like a miniature version of his father. He knew the visit wouldn't be pleasant, even if Sparkster didn't recognize the fact he looked a fair amount like Axelgear. The tell-tale sound of fuel burning and the roar of the engine it powered echoed as a glimpse of a Rocket Knight was visible on the horizon. With a loud whoosh, a cloud of dust raised, and as it cleared, Sparkster was standing in the skid-marked dirt. He grinned at each one of them, wearing armor modeled like his. He couldn't help but inwardly snicker at what a media figure he had become since his victory but it was one of the perks. Then his eyes came across a young 'un who had his head tilted down, away. His armor was darker, his jumpsuit colored red. And the sword design. No, this was obviously not standard issue. He kneeled down "Hello, what's your name?" He asked the child. The child turned his head further down and to the side, muttering "Awos." In a very stupid sounding manner. Sparkster stood up again "Why are you hiding your face?" He looked up and Sparkster almost literally jumped "YI!" He yelled but not too loudly. The others stared at Acros, as if he was a hideous monster. Sparkster asked "Who is your father?" He asked Acros once more. Acros just tried again "Awelnrr..." He could not seem to complete his sentence. He consulted the Teacher "Whats that child's name?" The Teacher signed and replied quietly "He's Acros, a troubled child. His speech impediment is so bad, no one can understand him." Sparkster nodded "Has anyone mentioned he looks like a tiny version of..." The Teacher interrupted "For good reason. He's Axelgear's son." Sparkster went wide eyed for the second time in about five minutes. He looked at the still cowering and ashamed looking child. He mutters a "Wow..." And began a simple two minute speech, answered questions, the usual stuff one would expect from someone visiting a class. Acros, throughout the whole class, remained far away from Sparkster, and never really tried to draw any attention. Not only was he the child of one of the Darkest creatures in the history of Zebulos, but he is also, the pathetic child of one of the Darkest creatures in the history of Zebulos. No, not a good thing. Self pity seemed the one thing he really excelled in. At the end of class, Sparkster called Acros over and kneeled down to eye level again "Nice to meet you again Acros. Now, I've noticed, you don't exactly act like the other kids now, do you?" He asked. Acros just shook his head "Well, why do you dress up in that kind of armor? Do you like the Dark Knights?" He, once again, shook his head. He sighed "Well, would you like to come with me to the Council of the Rocket Knights?" Acros nodded slightly, every time keeping his head low. Sparkster's large hand (In comparison) lifted Acros' chin. He smiled "Look kiddo, I ain't gonna hurt ya. You don't need to be ashamed of your parents." Acros smiled slightly and was about to ask a question but knew he couldn't. Sparkster grinned again "Don't worry, I'll get you out of your classes for a while and make sure you don't get into any deep trouble ok?" Acros smiled and nodded again. He was really getting to like Sparkster. The High Council was presented with a problem. An orphan child, the child of Axelgear, the Darkest of the Dark Knights. Now evil is not genetic, that would be lunacy, but the child was still a problem. He could be raised as a Rocket Knight, but who knows what could happen? He may turn and join the Dark Knights. Considering the Rocket Knights were almost completely wiped out last time the Dark Knights rebelled, that possibility seems rather bleak. Obviously the King had the first say, and he was as confused as the rest. What were they to do? Raise him as a Rocket Knight? Turn him over to Axelgear? Neglect him from training? Go so far as even using him as a bargaining chip or exiling him? The points were inconclusive. In the end, they chose the child had rights. Be they to pick the light or dark sides, they were still his rights and they had no place in choosing to take them from him. It came down to this. Give him the choice. Be taken to see the Dark Side, or stay in Elhorn and train to be a Rocket Knight. It seemed a lot of trouble to go about for just one child, but this was no ordinary child. Not at all. Walking the long distance out to the Dark Knight camp under a white flag, Sparkster and Acros entered a large segment of columns of small buildings. The Barracks for the incredible numbers of Dark Knights. As the two walked hand in hand with some degree of awkwardness, they reached a very large, and ominous looking building. Waiting at the gates was a tall and strong looking Dark Knight, dressed in formal looking armor. At his side were numerous guards holding a large array of weaponry. Axelgear grinned "Ah, Sparkster, good of you to honor your word. And this must be Acros." He says, reaching down and picking up the child as if he has held one before, obviously having some knowledge in the subject. Not that he is the kind of person you would expect TO have some information in this area. Acros smiles slightly, finding the dark glare to clear, and almost comfort him. Sparkster nods "I will be taking my leave now. You have your time to find what you like, to let him decide which side he will pick." Axelgear sighed and nodded "You sound like a mother worried about her babe. Look Sparkster..." He said, lifting him by the collar "If I were you, I would leave now." Sparkster pulled free and backed away, and took off. Acros caught the smell of burning rocket fuel and sneezed, the only break in his oddly calm state. Inside the deadly looking fortress, the halls of it echoed, filled with machines, guards, hundreds of security implements, and weapons of all kinds. But Acros was not taken to see this side of the base. Axelgear's home was all he saw. The rooms he visited were filled with beautiful art, treasure, and designed as if the person who owned them went on Safari every single day of the week. Acros had never seen anything of this magnitude before. It was simply stunning. A fascinating change from the cold and sterile walls from the Rocket Knight Academy. Axel placed down Acros, and let him look around "As you can see, the spoils of the Dark Knights are much greater than that of the Rocket Knights." Acros nodded and stared with wonder at the amazing designs and fine art. The splendor of it all... He smiled and then, defying all logic, took a dive at a couch (Even Dark Knights need places to sit). Axelgear sighed and locked the door, not wanting to show a tender side, especially not to his troops. He placed a pillow under Acros' head and then goes to his plan formulation at his desk. As time went on, after many months, but no more than a year had passed as Acros had been at the Dark Knight Encampment. He had given up hope of returning there, as they had not sent an emissary to meet with Axelgear. Now he was rather certain of his fate. He had grown stronger in his time there, no longer the frail weakling he once was. Lean still, but a muscular trait flowed through him. His face now was almost in a constant snarl, a cruel veneer he had adopted in the desert-like landscape, learning the harshness that went with what he now was. His sword, he found, was no longer too heavy for him to carry, even his aerial combat was better. He seemed to have found his place in the order of things, yet his speech deficiency remained. But here, there was no teasing, no insults of any kind. He was looked on with fear and respect. Considering who his father was, it was most likely that glint he saw was fear of the retribution hurting him may bring. But no, he fought his own battles now, and was skilled at it. Then came the day for his first mission. Border patrol, nothing special. Never was very special, not at all. But he was assigned to it anyway. He had to do what he had to do. As night drew in, Acros left with two other Dark Knights, one of whom was just a trainee like him. They came to their armored defense post and settled in. Getting told "You're on Guard Patrol." Was the equivalent of "I want you to go sit in a building and look at a screen for five hours." In the past year there had been only 26 Raids and 3 Major Assaults on the Dark Knight compounds. 13 of the Raids were not even made by Rocket Knights. That's why Border Patrol seemed such a pointless job. The Border Defense Turrets were odd shaped buildings. They hovered some 250 feet off the ground, about Jet Pack full flight level on a regular booster, and were armor plated and equipped to the maximum degree, all things considered. They had detection equipment filling the lower quarter which was read to the screens in the top, making the whole thing shaped as a spike with a rounded top. Despite its comical (and conical) appearance though, the Border turrets were very much practical. They could pick up a life sign about 50 miles away, and go as far to tell you what kind of fabric it was wearing. The turrets were the optimum detection unit. Acros jumped into a wheeled seat and put his feet up on the desk. The other recruit Acros learned to be known as Shift and the other simply as 83. Shift grinned "Alright guys, settle in." He walked to the mini-fridge kept for those on duty and tossed each of them a wrapped sandwich and a large tinned can that contained a fruity drink, hyped with sugar to keep them awake. Acros had a book, he excelled at reading steadily. He looked over the curved words in Dark Knight Code. Most books were in the code to help teach recruits. The code was not secret but hard to learn, so it was often used to help strategies be formed covertly. The others looked at magazines, comics and trivial items. Acros looked to the scanners occasionally, setting it to alarm mode in case he didn't see the intruders. The night passed uneventfully for much time, then, about three hours into their shifts, the alarm went off "Warning! Warning! Intruders entering southern border!" Acros was taken by surprise and barely stopped himself from tipping over. Acros pressed the alarm button and drew his sword. He waved Shift and 83 to follow and dived off the edge of the outpost. His jetpack activated shortly after and he turned in direction of the disturbance. Upon arrival, he was extremely confused to find a group of wanderers, packs and all, in tattered clothing. The desert areas were obviously not the best place to live, so why come here? Immediately the wanderers recognized the markings on Acros to be of a superior officer, even if he also had a cadet badge, and asked "Excuse me sir, but we are simply wanderers who have lost our way. May we seek shelter here?" Acros made no attempt at response. He waved Shift over and simply pointed to the man and walked away slowly. The wanderer was outraged "Now see here, I wish to speak to you, not some lackey!" Acros growled at this and Shift interrupted quickly "Now look, our commander need not speak to you if he wishes not. Got it?" The old man was obviously angry "Well, we shall take our leave now." The whole herd of settlers turned and began to leave. But something caught Acros' eye. A piece of blue armor... KNIGHTS! The thought rushed to his brain. If their post was unobserved, then the Rocket Knights could enter with no warning. Acros yelled "MRLM!" Then realized how stupid that sounded and simply revved his jet pack. The others caught on and they returned to the post in a hurry. Surely enough, a massive force was identified by their scanners. Acros shattered the security glass and hit the large red alarm button. The wailing sirens sounded, roaring and sending word back to the base. From even miles away, the alarms could be heard. And in that dark a night, the red lights were visible from equal distance. Acros drew his sword. Then a thought occurred. His Father! Sparkster! All of his old and new friends! What of them. By now, all the old recruits at the academy would also be trainees and out in the field. And Sparkster, the Knight he had looked up to for so many years, what of him? And then, finally, his father. The greatest living warrior, but even so, he worried of him in battle. Who knows what could happen to him? To all of them? Who knows... The Battle had already ensued by the time Acros arrived. He rushed in among the combatants without a second thought. He saw there at the head was his father, bringing down many a knight. Acros drew his sword and ran alongside, striking down a knight hard by surprise. Others took notice and saw Acros, and a knight attacked him, raising his sword. Acros blocked with a double hand hold, kicked his legs out and stabbed the knight vigorously. He was wounded but not dead. No. Acros could never kill. Then Acros saw another knight, about his age, a high ranking cadet, but there was something strange about him. He rushed through with his rocket pack, swung, and with a clunk, hit hard up the side of their head. Their helmet flew off. He broke their armor holds down to chain-mail and then realized why this knight was so different. He was a she... He looked at her, seeing a glimpse of hatred in her weakened eyes before she drifted out of consciousness. He quickly dragged her outside the lines of battle as fast as he could, blocking hits from many a fighter. As the smoke and sounds of battle cleared, both sides struggled to pull their wounded from the fray. Acros, meanwhile, watched as the female knight he struck down was dragged away by two Dark Knights. Who was she? How did she get into the academy? Last he checked, no girl could make it through by ancient law. He sighed, trying to get the questions out of his head. There was a tap on his shoulder. He turned quickly to see, standing before him, Sparkster. Acros jumped, readying his sword. Sparkster shakes his head "Do not worry, I wish to talk. We wish to see where your allegiances lie." Acros looked down and to the side "Have you chosen the Dark Knights." He shook his head "Then do you wish to rejoin us?" He shook his head again "Well, your running out of time on your decision." He turned around and walked away. There was a loud clang and Acros stopped short. Drops of his blood fell, and in a moment, so did he. He hit the ground hard. Sparkster sighed "Kid, I swore never to kill a child or parent. But I can at least make sure you don't turn into a Dark Knight." He slung the fallen child knight over his shoulder and began walking back towards Zebulos. A few hours later, Acros woke up in a cage, it bounced as it was lead up towards Zebulos castle. He was tired, weak, and wrapped in many bandages. He looked up with blurry vision as he was brought past the guards, up the stairs, and into the throne room. He was placed before the king. He looked about "Wuh... Hmmph..." He lowered his face and lied down again before he was awoken by a poke from a spear. He looked at the King. The King simply nodded "Acros, you were a promising warrior at one time, but you turned on your original path. Now you sit before judgment." The king and many elders looked at him with accusing eyes. He stared back angrily and with defiance. The king shook his head "While the crimes you have committed would normally result with the penalty of Death, you are still too young, and are hereby to be used in a prisoner trade back to your father." A guard passed him a small piece of chalk and a tiny board. He wrote quickly "Who for?" The king replied "That is of no importance." Acros felt some loss in his self worth. He sighed and wrote "So be it." And then threw the board at the wall and it shattered. He sat in the cage. He closed his eyes and leaned against the bars as the cage was moved away and to a small carriage. He watched the castle become faded behind him, and the familiar sight and sound of rain pattered down around him. He smiled, finding some comfort in it. He rarely found such a treasure in the desert, and the grass beneath almost seemed like an alien species of moss that had infected valleying moors of the land. He let his feet hang down between the bars of the cage, dusting the grass. He felt each jolt of the carriage around him. Finally, he saw what he knew as the border of Elhorn. The massive gates and wall that divided Elhorn from the rest of the lands of Zebulos and from there, the world. His hands were cuffed and then the cage unlocked. He was led in front of the angered and hating eyes of not just Rocket Knights he knew, but the Dark Knights, whom's stares felt more painful than any of his battle scars. He was led past a few Rocket Knights being used in the trade, and then one he recognized. The female knight. Her face was hidden deliberately, but he could tell it was her. Somehow he knew. He had seperated her from the rest of the battle, so he knew she would be captured. He watched as the knights left and the massive gates closed. His hand cuffs were unlocked and he was pushed, then struck down into the mud by the other Dark Knights "Were you not Axels son, you would have been left to be executed." Acros sighed, knowing this to be true. He was the only prisoner captured, and apparently was worth all those captured by the Dark Knights. He was not though. It was special treatment that he despised so much. His feet trudged as if he was on a Death March. Behind him stood Shift and 87. Even they seemed angry. They would not even go near him, but at least that meant he wouldn't be beaten. They walked for what seemed miles, the sand underneath twisting and writhing like the death rolls of some forsaken snake. Acros stared at his shadow in the blistering sun, wishing for the water he had seen in the lush, green lands not long before. As they neared the risen castle and camps that were the Dark Knights, waiting for him were the watchful eyes of every single knight there. It seemed like they were there to throw shame at him. He walked past the endless rows of hating eyes. He felt his foot catch on something and he fell foreword, snickers came from throughout the crowd. He stood up and dusted himself off. He looked about at each one of them. They snarled back. Was this truly what had happened to those who respected him so much last they met? He shook his head and walked towards the one person who truly could pass judgement in the Dark Knight ranks. His father. At one time, the large study that was part of his fathers living quarters seemed comforting. Now he wished to be anywhere BUT in that echoing room. Axel looked down at his son "You know, that for what happened today, you have proven my trust in you was misplaced." Acros nodded, not showing the fear evidently rising within him. Axel barked on the speech "Were you not lucky enough to be my son, you would not be back here." Acros sighed. He knew that he would never have gone with Sparkster to this place in the first place had he not been sired by Axel himself. Axel punched Acros directly in the stomach. His eyes went blurred for a moment and he fell to his knees, fell foreword, supporting himself on an arm, the other clutching his stomach, vomiting blood onto the floor. Axel kicked Acros in the side, throwing him onto the floor. "You know why you are not worthy?" Acros tried to focus on his fathers figure while writhing in pain. Axel kicked him again, and stepped on his chest "You are not able..." He pulled him up by his arm "To be..." He punched him into the air and landed onto and broke a chair. Axel stood over him now and placed a foot on his chest, and grabbed his wrist "Distrusting." He pulled hard, causing a loud crack and intense pain. His shoulder and socket seperated like they were a single hair. Axel looked down at him "From now on, you'll be training harder, won't you." Acros just muttered and "Uh...." And nodded. Axel grinned "Good." He walked to an intercom and pressed the buzzer "Send in a medic, and someone with a mop that can soak up blood." He then walked to the library section and took out a book. He opened the cover and began to read. Acros was in too much pain and simply passed out. Upon waking, he found himself to be bandaged, and next to him sat Axelgear, finishing the book he was reading earlier. Acros thought to himself "How long was I out..." His body ached, his arm was numb and in a sling. He tried to sit up slowly with much discomfort. He looked to his father who looked up for a moment "Good, your awake. You'll be ready to fight in a few days the doctors say." Acros was puzzled. He asked with his best attempt "Hun won wuth I nunt?" (How long was I out?) Axel cocked an eyebrow at this "Three days. And now you know what is the price for being captured, let alone any true crime." Acros suddenly shuddered at this, his tail wrapping round him as a natural response. "You are under probation and you lose your sword priveliges for a week, yet you must still take on practices." Acros wasn't exactly happy at this but it didn't seem the punishment he expected. Then Axel continued "You will suffer more than just this. You will lose all extra rations and 46 lashes are the punishment. Get used to this room. You'll be here a lot." He walked over and put a hand around Acros' neck "But don't worry, it'll count as training." He brought his other fist up and into Acros' stomach. Acros' vision got blurry again and he fell slumped. Upon waking, Acros found himself tied to two poles, most of his armor missing. There was the sound of a large crack of a whip. Several of them. There was a loud snap, the whips flew by and struck him hard up the back, tearing the skin, loosing blood. He was immediatly puzzled but then remembered, thanks to the cold line of pain, this was part of his punishment for being captured. He closed his eyes, grinding his teeth to the pain. Not shedding a tear or making a single squeak once, his body bled yet he stood strong. He knew if he let the pain get to him, he would fall further from grace. By the end, he could barely stand. He had lost so much blood, it seemed the world was spinning. He was dragged back to the infirmary, his body going limp. Much more time past, about a two weeks, but finally Acros was out of the medics and on his feet. He trained with the others, no sword, and yet he held his own. It seemed he had the capability, sword or no sword, to advance. Yet, from his place at the judges helm, Axel saw no will, no admiration, no want to advance. This held Acros back. What was to be the fate of a Rocket Knight with no will to go on? To get better. Axel knew there was nothing he could do to make Acros WANT to do better. A Rivalry between him and Sparkster had done it to him. He had to find something. Little would Axel know though what was coming...
Now onto the Story.
Introduction: Around twenty or so years after the story in Sparkster is when this takes place. Sparkster and Axelgear have not been seen in Elhorn for many years, and so the first bit of this story is background information.
5 years before current time:
The cries of a female opossum ring out through the hospital halls and are shortly silenced after. In her hands lays a tiny little child. The only one born, oddly enough. Normally there is a litter of children, but no, he is the only survivor. The doctors quickly clean off the blood that he is covered in and hand over the small, shivering mass that is the newborn to his mother. The tiny creatures eyes open slowly, furless and thin. Unusually so, and the doctors simply clean up and try to make them comfortable, then leave them. The newborn is given little time to live, but the mother is still allowed her time with him. She folds back the blanket he is wrapped in and looks upon his face. She mutters a few words, naming the supposedly doomed baby "Acros Gear..." Then both she and the infant drifted into a deep sleep.
Current time set: Elhorn City, the gleaming beacon for a bright future. With the help of ancient teachings of the Rocket Knights taught by Sparkster before he left, the academies have been reopened and many young children have been brought there and raised to fight and defend freedoms and protect Elhorn. The students all rise in the mornings, assemble, meet with their teachers, breakfast, lessons, lunch, more lessons, dinner, official training, and then their only real free time at the end of the day.
But, beyond the official rankings and statuses, it was still a school. And like any school, it had its classes, the Popular, the Jocks, the Geeks, the Misfits, all of them. And in the center of the laughing at Misfits was a young Rocket Knight called Acros. Abused for not only having no Father, but his Mother died in childbirth shortly after he was born. He lived though, not expected to, grew and got stronger. Never really as strong as the others. Frail as a fallen tree limb really, but alive and growing. About 5, no one is really sure, he never spoke a word for years, and now, he still has trouble speaking. Usually just making a simple sound. Laughable essentially, a frail, thin, weak and almost mute child, and he was in the Rocket Knight Academy. Its puzzling how he got into the academy, but no matter what the training or lesson, he seems to excel, regardless of his physical problems. He is a skilled warrior, an excellent tactician, and rather good at Math, but sadly, his skills do not let him fight as he can barely lift a sword, his tactics are useless as he cannot relay them to others, and his Math skills are unlikely to help on the battlefield. Still, he managed.
As the morning bell rang, Acros followed routine, climbed from bed, brushed teeth, changed into armor, made the bed and put his things away in order. He walks out into the halls and stands at attention. The teachers file down the halls and stand in front of the classes, in official armor and uniform. They all shout out a unanimous command "ALL KNIGHTS! STAND TO ATTENTION!" They all placed their hands at their sides, ankles together, salute, hands back to side. The Teachers barked another command out "ALL KNIGHTS! DRAW SWORDS!" Acros heart froze. He draws his sword, but the weight of it, forced to hold it out for inspection, his small arms could barely hold it. His arms shook like a Chihuahua in Alaska. The nearby cadets looked, noticed, and snickered, but the Teachers sharp glares shut them up faster than anything else could have. The Teachers filed past each class, inspecting the clean-ness and polished texture of each blade. Acros heard various commands "CLEAN THAT SWORD TILL IT SPARKLES!" and "YOU CALL THAT CLEANED?! 50 PUSHUPS!" Acros dreaded he may have to incur some sort of punishment every day, and he couldn't bare it. The teacher came to him and looked over the blade and glared. He knew he hadn't cleaned it well enough. WHY hadn't he cleaned it the night before. Ah well, he knew it was coming. The Teacher gave a sharp response "Well, well. I've been waiting for this kind of slip-up. KNIGHT! YOU WILL ACCOMPANY THE ADVANCED CLASS AT LUNCH! YOU WILL NOT RECEIVE EXTRA POINTS FOR IT AND SUFFER!" He tried an attempt at a reply, but it sounded like he had a mouth full of peanut butter "Nnng. Mmhmf..." He says, his second remark just him giving up. He sighs, knowing not only does he have no reason, but he can't even state it. He sighs, depressed. The others snickering at him. This though, the Teachers could not stand and their yells resound "HOW DARE YOU LAUGH AT HIS DISABILITIES!? DETENTION TO ALL WHO LAUGHED! THOSE WHO DO NOT COME WILL HAVE SWORD PRIVELIGES REVOKED FOR A WEEK!" Now that was a threat. Losing sword privileges was like having your armor taken. The next rounds, you wouldn't stand a chance. The rounds were weekly battles for raise in status. If you lost, you usually fell a rank. Sometimes two. Acros had always held his own. Never done well enough to advance but never fell. The Teacher turned back to Acros "Now Knight, is it clear, you will report to the advanced class today at lunch time. Got it?" Acros could smell the rancid breath of the teacher and turned his nose slightly away. He muttered a "Yng." And nodded his head slowly. The teachers returned to formation and nodded. The Cadets left to breakfast. Acros sighed, multiple word flew through his mind, all with the same meaning. The cafeteria was a sterile room, metallic walls, unlike the decorative style the rest of the academy was dressed in. The cold feeling added to the chill that ran through it, and so everyone was happy to just get their food and get to a table. The morning menu; Cereal, Cereal, Oatmeal and a few other things including rather good pancakes that would get you beaten up over. Acros took his food quickly and went to a table, sat alone, as per usual, and ate his breakfast. His stomach growled at him but he ate slowly, not happy considering the earlier events. He always sat alone with the same breakfast. Nothing changed, especially in a place built entirely around rules and tradition. No, not here. Never. But today wouldn't be one of those days. A second young Rocket Knight joined him. He couldn't tell who it was, they had their visor pulled down all the way, which made eating awkward but apparently they managed. He would have asked them who they were, but it would have made a bigger fool out of himself. No point. Best be a mute than an idiot. He continues to eat until the other one said directly to him "You're a lot better than the others, y'know?" He manages a "Mmf?" His attempt at a Me? Still, they seemed to understand "Your from a lot better a heritage than the rest of these simpletons. You're the son of a great Rocket Knight. Axelgear. Although he was a Dark Rocket Knight, he was still one of the best. And his blood flows through you. You can't go on allowing yourself to be beaten by the rest of these useless ones." Obviously this was a shock to Acros. He looked at the shielded person like they were insane, they got up and simply left. He looks with surprise as they rocket from a window. The metallic walls are padded as silencers, so little is heard more than a windily whisper. Acros tries to get a teacher but none of them seem to find anything. He looks about outside. Then the first bell rang. Time for class. The first class, how to operate the Rocket-packs. The very things that made them Rocket Knights. Acros locked the large tank of both fuel and wiring onto his back and wrapped his Tail around his waste. He didn't need another thing for kids to insult him on. He snickered at the thought of that happening to someone and was slightly ashamed he would wish pain on someone, but it was calming to think of someone ELSE getting insulted for once. The Teacher barked out the usual commands and the Knights flew up. Today was Aerial Combat, which was next to impossible but simple as well. He drew his sword and held it steady. The forced from the Rockets made it like it was a wind breaker, cutting the air in front of him to allow him through. There was a loud clang as another Knights blade struck him in the back and he spiraled down. He managed to right himself and tried another charge, and struck with vengeance. As they were know low to the ground, his opponent hit first. Acros landed quickly after and put his pack aside and sat down. The teacher walked in front of them and said "Now, today you will be having a special guest, the famed and long since unseen Rocket Knight, Sparkster." They all gasped "Sparkster finally returned and demanded to see the recruits. You being the main class will be the first shown." They all nodded vigorously with excitement. Sparkster. The name alone now signified glory. After the defeat against Axelgear everything about him became a treasured knowledge. Acros sighed though. He knew the origins of his name, it brought shame and despair really. Sparkster's greatest adversary, a dangerous and constant evil. He even had his helmet modeled in a similar fashion. He looked like a miniature version of his father. He knew the visit wouldn't be pleasant, even if Sparkster didn't recognize the fact he looked a fair amount like Axelgear. The tell-tale sound of fuel burning and the roar of the engine it powered echoed as a glimpse of a Rocket Knight was visible on the horizon. With a loud whoosh, a cloud of dust raised, and as it cleared, Sparkster was standing in the skid-marked dirt. He grinned at each one of them, wearing armor modeled like his. He couldn't help but inwardly snicker at what a media figure he had become since his victory but it was one of the perks. Then his eyes came across a young 'un who had his head tilted down, away. His armor was darker, his jumpsuit colored red. And the sword design. No, this was obviously not standard issue. He kneeled down "Hello, what's your name?" He asked the child. The child turned his head further down and to the side, muttering "Awos." In a very stupid sounding manner. Sparkster stood up again "Why are you hiding your face?" He looked up and Sparkster almost literally jumped "YI!" He yelled but not too loudly. The others stared at Acros, as if he was a hideous monster. Sparkster asked "Who is your father?" He asked Acros once more. Acros just tried again "Awelnrr..." He could not seem to complete his sentence. He consulted the Teacher "Whats that child's name?" The Teacher signed and replied quietly "He's Acros, a troubled child. His speech impediment is so bad, no one can understand him." Sparkster nodded "Has anyone mentioned he looks like a tiny version of..." The Teacher interrupted "For good reason. He's Axelgear's son." Sparkster went wide eyed for the second time in about five minutes. He looked at the still cowering and ashamed looking child. He mutters a "Wow..." And began a simple two minute speech, answered questions, the usual stuff one would expect from someone visiting a class. Acros, throughout the whole class, remained far away from Sparkster, and never really tried to draw any attention. Not only was he the child of one of the Darkest creatures in the history of Zebulos, but he is also, the pathetic child of one of the Darkest creatures in the history of Zebulos. No, not a good thing. Self pity seemed the one thing he really excelled in. At the end of class, Sparkster called Acros over and kneeled down to eye level again "Nice to meet you again Acros. Now, I've noticed, you don't exactly act like the other kids now, do you?" He asked. Acros just shook his head "Well, why do you dress up in that kind of armor? Do you like the Dark Knights?" He, once again, shook his head. He sighed "Well, would you like to come with me to the Council of the Rocket Knights?" Acros nodded slightly, every time keeping his head low. Sparkster's large hand (In comparison) lifted Acros' chin. He smiled "Look kiddo, I ain't gonna hurt ya. You don't need to be ashamed of your parents." Acros smiled slightly and was about to ask a question but knew he couldn't. Sparkster grinned again "Don't worry, I'll get you out of your classes for a while and make sure you don't get into any deep trouble ok?" Acros smiled and nodded again. He was really getting to like Sparkster. The High Council was presented with a problem. An orphan child, the child of Axelgear, the Darkest of the Dark Knights. Now evil is not genetic, that would be lunacy, but the child was still a problem. He could be raised as a Rocket Knight, but who knows what could happen? He may turn and join the Dark Knights. Considering the Rocket Knights were almost completely wiped out last time the Dark Knights rebelled, that possibility seems rather bleak. Obviously the King had the first say, and he was as confused as the rest. What were they to do? Raise him as a Rocket Knight? Turn him over to Axelgear? Neglect him from training? Go so far as even using him as a bargaining chip or exiling him? The points were inconclusive. In the end, they chose the child had rights. Be they to pick the light or dark sides, they were still his rights and they had no place in choosing to take them from him. It came down to this. Give him the choice. Be taken to see the Dark Side, or stay in Elhorn and train to be a Rocket Knight. It seemed a lot of trouble to go about for just one child, but this was no ordinary child. Not at all. Walking the long distance out to the Dark Knight camp under a white flag, Sparkster and Acros entered a large segment of columns of small buildings. The Barracks for the incredible numbers of Dark Knights. As the two walked hand in hand with some degree of awkwardness, they reached a very large, and ominous looking building. Waiting at the gates was a tall and strong looking Dark Knight, dressed in formal looking armor. At his side were numerous guards holding a large array of weaponry. Axelgear grinned "Ah, Sparkster, good of you to honor your word. And this must be Acros." He says, reaching down and picking up the child as if he has held one before, obviously having some knowledge in the subject. Not that he is the kind of person you would expect TO have some information in this area. Acros smiles slightly, finding the dark glare to clear, and almost comfort him. Sparkster nods "I will be taking my leave now. You have your time to find what you like, to let him decide which side he will pick." Axelgear sighed and nodded "You sound like a mother worried about her babe. Look Sparkster..." He said, lifting him by the collar "If I were you, I would leave now." Sparkster pulled free and backed away, and took off. Acros caught the smell of burning rocket fuel and sneezed, the only break in his oddly calm state. Inside the deadly looking fortress, the halls of it echoed, filled with machines, guards, hundreds of security implements, and weapons of all kinds. But Acros was not taken to see this side of the base. Axelgear's home was all he saw. The rooms he visited were filled with beautiful art, treasure, and designed as if the person who owned them went on Safari every single day of the week. Acros had never seen anything of this magnitude before. It was simply stunning. A fascinating change from the cold and sterile walls from the Rocket Knight Academy. Axel placed down Acros, and let him look around "As you can see, the spoils of the Dark Knights are much greater than that of the Rocket Knights." Acros nodded and stared with wonder at the amazing designs and fine art. The splendor of it all... He smiled and then, defying all logic, took a dive at a couch (Even Dark Knights need places to sit). Axelgear sighed and locked the door, not wanting to show a tender side, especially not to his troops. He placed a pillow under Acros' head and then goes to his plan formulation at his desk. As time went on, after many months, but no more than a year had passed as Acros had been at the Dark Knight Encampment. He had given up hope of returning there, as they had not sent an emissary to meet with Axelgear. Now he was rather certain of his fate. He had grown stronger in his time there, no longer the frail weakling he once was. Lean still, but a muscular trait flowed through him. His face now was almost in a constant snarl, a cruel veneer he had adopted in the desert-like landscape, learning the harshness that went with what he now was. His sword, he found, was no longer too heavy for him to carry, even his aerial combat was better. He seemed to have found his place in the order of things, yet his speech deficiency remained. But here, there was no teasing, no insults of any kind. He was looked on with fear and respect. Considering who his father was, it was most likely that glint he saw was fear of the retribution hurting him may bring. But no, he fought his own battles now, and was skilled at it. Then came the day for his first mission. Border patrol, nothing special. Never was very special, not at all. But he was assigned to it anyway. He had to do what he had to do. As night drew in, Acros left with two other Dark Knights, one of whom was just a trainee like him. They came to their armored defense post and settled in. Getting told "You're on Guard Patrol." Was the equivalent of "I want you to go sit in a building and look at a screen for five hours." In the past year there had been only 26 Raids and 3 Major Assaults on the Dark Knight compounds. 13 of the Raids were not even made by Rocket Knights. That's why Border Patrol seemed such a pointless job. The Border Defense Turrets were odd shaped buildings. They hovered some 250 feet off the ground, about Jet Pack full flight level on a regular booster, and were armor plated and equipped to the maximum degree, all things considered. They had detection equipment filling the lower quarter which was read to the screens in the top, making the whole thing shaped as a spike with a rounded top. Despite its comical (and conical) appearance though, the Border turrets were very much practical. They could pick up a life sign about 50 miles away, and go as far to tell you what kind of fabric it was wearing. The turrets were the optimum detection unit. Acros jumped into a wheeled seat and put his feet up on the desk. The other recruit Acros learned to be known as Shift and the other simply as 83. Shift grinned "Alright guys, settle in." He walked to the mini-fridge kept for those on duty and tossed each of them a wrapped sandwich and a large tinned can that contained a fruity drink, hyped with sugar to keep them awake. Acros had a book, he excelled at reading steadily. He looked over the curved words in Dark Knight Code. Most books were in the code to help teach recruits. The code was not secret but hard to learn, so it was often used to help strategies be formed covertly. The others looked at magazines, comics and trivial items. Acros looked to the scanners occasionally, setting it to alarm mode in case he didn't see the intruders. The night passed uneventfully for much time, then, about three hours into their shifts, the alarm went off "Warning! Warning! Intruders entering southern border!" Acros was taken by surprise and barely stopped himself from tipping over. Acros pressed the alarm button and drew his sword. He waved Shift and 83 to follow and dived off the edge of the outpost. His jetpack activated shortly after and he turned in direction of the disturbance. Upon arrival, he was extremely confused to find a group of wanderers, packs and all, in tattered clothing. The desert areas were obviously not the best place to live, so why come here? Immediately the wanderers recognized the markings on Acros to be of a superior officer, even if he also had a cadet badge, and asked "Excuse me sir, but we are simply wanderers who have lost our way. May we seek shelter here?" Acros made no attempt at response. He waved Shift over and simply pointed to the man and walked away slowly. The wanderer was outraged "Now see here, I wish to speak to you, not some lackey!" Acros growled at this and Shift interrupted quickly "Now look, our commander need not speak to you if he wishes not. Got it?" The old man was obviously angry "Well, we shall take our leave now." The whole herd of settlers turned and began to leave. But something caught Acros' eye. A piece of blue armor... KNIGHTS! The thought rushed to his brain. If their post was unobserved, then the Rocket Knights could enter with no warning. Acros yelled "MRLM!" Then realized how stupid that sounded and simply revved his jet pack. The others caught on and they returned to the post in a hurry. Surely enough, a massive force was identified by their scanners. Acros shattered the security glass and hit the large red alarm button. The wailing sirens sounded, roaring and sending word back to the base. From even miles away, the alarms could be heard. And in that dark a night, the red lights were visible from equal distance. Acros drew his sword. Then a thought occurred. His Father! Sparkster! All of his old and new friends! What of them. By now, all the old recruits at the academy would also be trainees and out in the field. And Sparkster, the Knight he had looked up to for so many years, what of him? And then, finally, his father. The greatest living warrior, but even so, he worried of him in battle. Who knows what could happen to him? To all of them? Who knows... The Battle had already ensued by the time Acros arrived. He rushed in among the combatants without a second thought. He saw there at the head was his father, bringing down many a knight. Acros drew his sword and ran alongside, striking down a knight hard by surprise. Others took notice and saw Acros, and a knight attacked him, raising his sword. Acros blocked with a double hand hold, kicked his legs out and stabbed the knight vigorously. He was wounded but not dead. No. Acros could never kill. Then Acros saw another knight, about his age, a high ranking cadet, but there was something strange about him. He rushed through with his rocket pack, swung, and with a clunk, hit hard up the side of their head. Their helmet flew off. He broke their armor holds down to chain-mail and then realized why this knight was so different. He was a she... He looked at her, seeing a glimpse of hatred in her weakened eyes before she drifted out of consciousness. He quickly dragged her outside the lines of battle as fast as he could, blocking hits from many a fighter. As the smoke and sounds of battle cleared, both sides struggled to pull their wounded from the fray. Acros, meanwhile, watched as the female knight he struck down was dragged away by two Dark Knights. Who was she? How did she get into the academy? Last he checked, no girl could make it through by ancient law. He sighed, trying to get the questions out of his head. There was a tap on his shoulder. He turned quickly to see, standing before him, Sparkster. Acros jumped, readying his sword. Sparkster shakes his head "Do not worry, I wish to talk. We wish to see where your allegiances lie." Acros looked down and to the side "Have you chosen the Dark Knights." He shook his head "Then do you wish to rejoin us?" He shook his head again "Well, your running out of time on your decision." He turned around and walked away. There was a loud clang and Acros stopped short. Drops of his blood fell, and in a moment, so did he. He hit the ground hard. Sparkster sighed "Kid, I swore never to kill a child or parent. But I can at least make sure you don't turn into a Dark Knight." He slung the fallen child knight over his shoulder and began walking back towards Zebulos. A few hours later, Acros woke up in a cage, it bounced as it was lead up towards Zebulos castle. He was tired, weak, and wrapped in many bandages. He looked up with blurry vision as he was brought past the guards, up the stairs, and into the throne room. He was placed before the king. He looked about "Wuh... Hmmph..." He lowered his face and lied down again before he was awoken by a poke from a spear. He looked at the King. The King simply nodded "Acros, you were a promising warrior at one time, but you turned on your original path. Now you sit before judgment." The king and many elders looked at him with accusing eyes. He stared back angrily and with defiance. The king shook his head "While the crimes you have committed would normally result with the penalty of Death, you are still too young, and are hereby to be used in a prisoner trade back to your father." A guard passed him a small piece of chalk and a tiny board. He wrote quickly "Who for?" The king replied "That is of no importance." Acros felt some loss in his self worth. He sighed and wrote "So be it." And then threw the board at the wall and it shattered. He sat in the cage. He closed his eyes and leaned against the bars as the cage was moved away and to a small carriage. He watched the castle become faded behind him, and the familiar sight and sound of rain pattered down around him. He smiled, finding some comfort in it. He rarely found such a treasure in the desert, and the grass beneath almost seemed like an alien species of moss that had infected valleying moors of the land. He let his feet hang down between the bars of the cage, dusting the grass. He felt each jolt of the carriage around him. Finally, he saw what he knew as the border of Elhorn. The massive gates and wall that divided Elhorn from the rest of the lands of Zebulos and from there, the world. His hands were cuffed and then the cage unlocked. He was led in front of the angered and hating eyes of not just Rocket Knights he knew, but the Dark Knights, whom's stares felt more painful than any of his battle scars. He was led past a few Rocket Knights being used in the trade, and then one he recognized. The female knight. Her face was hidden deliberately, but he could tell it was her. Somehow he knew. He had seperated her from the rest of the battle, so he knew she would be captured. He watched as the knights left and the massive gates closed. His hand cuffs were unlocked and he was pushed, then struck down into the mud by the other Dark Knights "Were you not Axels son, you would have been left to be executed." Acros sighed, knowing this to be true. He was the only prisoner captured, and apparently was worth all those captured by the Dark Knights. He was not though. It was special treatment that he despised so much. His feet trudged as if he was on a Death March. Behind him stood Shift and 87. Even they seemed angry. They would not even go near him, but at least that meant he wouldn't be beaten. They walked for what seemed miles, the sand underneath twisting and writhing like the death rolls of some forsaken snake. Acros stared at his shadow in the blistering sun, wishing for the water he had seen in the lush, green lands not long before. As they neared the risen castle and camps that were the Dark Knights, waiting for him were the watchful eyes of every single knight there. It seemed like they were there to throw shame at him. He walked past the endless rows of hating eyes. He felt his foot catch on something and he fell foreword, snickers came from throughout the crowd. He stood up and dusted himself off. He looked about at each one of them. They snarled back. Was this truly what had happened to those who respected him so much last they met? He shook his head and walked towards the one person who truly could pass judgement in the Dark Knight ranks. His father. At one time, the large study that was part of his fathers living quarters seemed comforting. Now he wished to be anywhere BUT in that echoing room. Axel looked down at his son "You know, that for what happened today, you have proven my trust in you was misplaced." Acros nodded, not showing the fear evidently rising within him. Axel barked on the speech "Were you not lucky enough to be my son, you would not be back here." Acros sighed. He knew that he would never have gone with Sparkster to this place in the first place had he not been sired by Axel himself. Axel punched Acros directly in the stomach. His eyes went blurred for a moment and he fell to his knees, fell foreword, supporting himself on an arm, the other clutching his stomach, vomiting blood onto the floor. Axel kicked Acros in the side, throwing him onto the floor. "You know why you are not worthy?" Acros tried to focus on his fathers figure while writhing in pain. Axel kicked him again, and stepped on his chest "You are not able..." He pulled him up by his arm "To be..." He punched him into the air and landed onto and broke a chair. Axel stood over him now and placed a foot on his chest, and grabbed his wrist "Distrusting." He pulled hard, causing a loud crack and intense pain. His shoulder and socket seperated like they were a single hair. Axel looked down at him "From now on, you'll be training harder, won't you." Acros just muttered and "Uh...." And nodded. Axel grinned "Good." He walked to an intercom and pressed the buzzer "Send in a medic, and someone with a mop that can soak up blood." He then walked to the library section and took out a book. He opened the cover and began to read. Acros was in too much pain and simply passed out. Upon waking, he found himself to be bandaged, and next to him sat Axelgear, finishing the book he was reading earlier. Acros thought to himself "How long was I out..." His body ached, his arm was numb and in a sling. He tried to sit up slowly with much discomfort. He looked to his father who looked up for a moment "Good, your awake. You'll be ready to fight in a few days the doctors say." Acros was puzzled. He asked with his best attempt "Hun won wuth I nunt?" (How long was I out?) Axel cocked an eyebrow at this "Three days. And now you know what is the price for being captured, let alone any true crime." Acros suddenly shuddered at this, his tail wrapping round him as a natural response. "You are under probation and you lose your sword priveliges for a week, yet you must still take on practices." Acros wasn't exactly happy at this but it didn't seem the punishment he expected. Then Axel continued "You will suffer more than just this. You will lose all extra rations and 46 lashes are the punishment. Get used to this room. You'll be here a lot." He walked over and put a hand around Acros' neck "But don't worry, it'll count as training." He brought his other fist up and into Acros' stomach. Acros' vision got blurry again and he fell slumped. Upon waking, Acros found himself tied to two poles, most of his armor missing. There was the sound of a large crack of a whip. Several of them. There was a loud snap, the whips flew by and struck him hard up the back, tearing the skin, loosing blood. He was immediatly puzzled but then remembered, thanks to the cold line of pain, this was part of his punishment for being captured. He closed his eyes, grinding his teeth to the pain. Not shedding a tear or making a single squeak once, his body bled yet he stood strong. He knew if he let the pain get to him, he would fall further from grace. By the end, he could barely stand. He had lost so much blood, it seemed the world was spinning. He was dragged back to the infirmary, his body going limp. Much more time past, about a two weeks, but finally Acros was out of the medics and on his feet. He trained with the others, no sword, and yet he held his own. It seemed he had the capability, sword or no sword, to advance. Yet, from his place at the judges helm, Axel saw no will, no admiration, no want to advance. This held Acros back. What was to be the fate of a Rocket Knight with no will to go on? To get better. Axel knew there was nothing he could do to make Acros WANT to do better. A Rivalry between him and Sparkster had done it to him. He had to find something. Little would Axel know though what was coming...