WARRIORS HIGH
ISLAND OF THE LOST
CHAPTER ELEVEN
PLAYBOYS
TRIGGER WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER CONTAINS NON-EXPLICIT DETAILS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT AND RAPE. THIS IS ONLY USED FOR THE PURPOSE OF FURTHER VILLAINIZING ARS AS A FUCKED UP GROUP OF PEOPLE. PLEASE SKIP THE FINAL SECTION OF THIS CHAPTER IF THIS TOPIC UPSETS YOU.
"Alright everyone! Settle down!"
Everyone in the band room, including Dusty on the drum set, put a hasty end to their warm-up and looked up as a tall, well-postured gentleman with ginger hair slowly draining of color walked in and took the podium. He adjusted his glasses and grabbed his baton a lot faster than anyone was ready for.
"Flamefur. Concert Bflat."
A boy with green eyes and ruffled brown hair with red tips snapped to attention and after playing the note an octave lower, played a Bflat4. The concert tuning note for the brass. They too snapped to attention rather abruptly and tuned their instruments over the following two minutes. Dusty clicked his sticks together impatiently. He was ready to go.
When everybody was tuned, the conductor adjusted his spectacles. "Our singer will be here any moment now, so for now, we'll just practice so we can at least play through the song in a passable manner. From the top of 'Pennies from Heaven.'"
Dusty heard murmurs from the strings as he got his score and brushes out. They were not ready for this conductor to launch into one of their hardest songs. Well, their loss, he snapped in his head, This man clearly expected quality.
He thought he would get along with him just fine.
The playing was...lackluster to say the least. Dusty didn't really have the most interesting part in the world, so he just spent most of his rest between his cymbal rolls and hi-hat kicks on beats two and four nitpicking. Half of the string section was faking playing, the trombones were behind almost three measures at one point, and the trumpets were trying to drag the tempo. He just played louder to establish his metronomic dominance at that.
They stumbled through the finish line and the man rubbed his eyes, cleaning his glasses with the tie of his tan suit. "Alright, clearly, we've got some work to do."
The class chuckled awkwardly and half-heartedly.
"Let's see...brass, let's fix the rhythms at the pick-up to twenty-three, because I'm pretty sure none of you played that close to correctly. Think of it in the first and third of a triplet. Baaa-buh baaa-buh baaa-buh. Got it? Okay, from twenty-three."
Just as they were getting ready, a boy wearing a crumbled and dirty black hoodie rushed in, tossing his backpack aside and rushing over to the right of the room. He clearly wasn't interested in being seen tardy.
"Ah, Axis," said the conductor, wearing a terse smirk, "Glad you could join us."
Dusty felt a sudden, painful burn in his face.
Axis?!
The bartender went to his school?!
"Sorry," he said, ruffling his messy hair as he stretched quickly, "I had a teacher's meeting."
"Fair enough. You get warmed up for 'Pennies from Heaven' and I'll lead you in."
"Got it."
Dusty noticed that the conductor had a lot more respect for the singer, who took off his hoodie and showed a tight dark-gray t-shirt with light-blue sleeves that was small enough that he could see the details of his abs showing through the fabric. The way his body moved as he went through his breathing exercises, the way his eyes seemed to pierce through everything with his soft, yet direct and purposeful gaze.
Dusty looked down and adjusted his shorts when Axis looked his way. He continued to avert his gaze from everything as the brass got themselves together and polished the rhythm until it was drilled in their heads, at the advantage of the ones who practiced and the irritating disadvantage of the ones who didn't.
Dusty twirled his sticks and glanced up as the conductor, who Dusty learned was named Maestro Lionheart by the whiteboard behind him he somehow did not see, worked with the strings on the albeit very difficult sixteenth triplet passage in the first six measures. He recovered from the mention of the handsome bartender he had flirted with two days prior emotionally stomping him as he gave them instructions for practice, getting set to play his simplistic part.
But as everyone was setting up for the beginning, he and Axis inadvertently made eye contact.
They locked eyes for a moment before Axis smirked, winked and looked away.
Dusty flared up in embarrassment, realizing he was noticeably blushing and faked a mild coughing fit to cover it up.
They began, Dusty again only doing a cymbal roll as the brass and strings led into Axis' cue.
And once again, he didn't disappoint.
"Every time it rains, it rains pennies from heaven,
Don't you know each cloud contains pennies from heaven,"
My God.
It was as if Sinatra and Crosby were trapped in his voice.
This was too good to be true. He was too good to be true. A slice of raw talent that was unlike anything he had seen or heard before.
He didn't care that the brass were missing a couple of easy notes or that the strings were falling behind. This voice, hand-crafted by God, he was sure, made the three-minute piece perfection.
"Nice work. I hope you enjoyed our warm-up, now let's get down to business. Take out Caravan."
Oh, hell yes.
It was like he had been practicing for this moment.
"Now, drummer...Dusty, right?" said Lionheart, "You do have the hardest part, so if you want to sit out and wait for next week, that's alright."
"That won't be necessary, sir."
The conductor raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Yes."
"Okay, then," said Lionheart, fully expecting him to just be too cocky for his own good, "From the top, then."
He counted off and Dusty launched into a double-time Latin, almost reciting the piece in his head by memory. He stumbled a bit and missed a couple beats of the fills, but he kept the main rhythm steady.
After twelve measures, Lionheart cut him off. "Not bad," he said as Dusty wiped the sweat off his forehead, "But you were a little off with the fills. Tempo was steady but it had a tendency to drag. Otherwise, consider me duly impressed."
It wasn't the level of complimenting Dusty wanted from his conductor, but he looked around and saw nodding heads and thumbs up from his bandmates.
Dusty, almost by instinct, glanced at Axis, who slowly nodded his approval.
And that made his imperfect performance almost worth it.
But he didn't quite know why.
"Remember!" called the conductor as everyone packed up, "If you want to succeed, you need to work! Practice what we worked on!"
Dusty rolled his eyes. Like that would make any difference.
He stuffed his sticks in his backpack, threw it onto his back and followed the throng of players outside.
"Not bad," said a voice behind him.
"Same to you," said Dusty to Axis without looking back.
"You certainly weren't lying when you said you could play."
"Did you think I was?"
Axis shrugged. "You can never trust anyone until they've had a few drinks."
"Wow. Such cynicism."
"Well, we live in a society where a high school junior has to work in a bar in order to make a living."
Dusty nodded.
They walked outside together, side by side, towards the bike rack. They saddled their rides and rode until they were two blocks away.
"So where are you off to?"
"I got work. You?"
"Practice. Gotta make J.K. Simmons proud."
"Nerd."
"Hey! I got talent. Wanna keep it for as long as I can."
"That your career choice?"
"Maybe."
"What are you gonna do with it until then?"
"Primarily work on impressing you."
Axis chuckled. "I'm flattered."
"I thought you would be."
Their faces were inches away.
Dusty pulled back, blushing once again.
"So…"
"Yes?"
"Where do you...sit...at lunch?"
Axis shrugged. "Wherever I want, mainly. Usually somewhere outside if it's not raining."
Dusty nodded. "Cool."
Axis smirked. "It does get a little lonely, though."
Dusty smiled back. "Duly noted."
'As you can see, I'm a master of subtlety."
"Whatever you say, playboy."
The light turned green and the boys went off in their separate directions.
"See you around, Neiman."
"You too, playboy."
Jaywhisker held his fist inches away from the door.
"Go on," said Mallowleaf, egging him on.
"What if he doesn't want to see me?"
"You brought him along. Why wouldn't he want to see you?"
Jaywhisker bit his lip, not wanting to have this argument again, and knocked.
There was no answer. Jaywhisker opened the door a crack and peeked in.
Russ was sitting at his desk, back to him, flipping the same quarter he had given to him five days ago. Every time it landed, he grabbed his Sharpie and made a tally on some sort of list Jay couldn't see.
"Hey, Russ," said Jaywhisker.
Russ didn't answer.
"I...I know it's been a while since we talked so...how you doing?"
Russ flipped his coin and made a tally.
"Got it. So...what are you into these days?"
No answer.
Jaywhisker pursed his lips, sitting on the side of Russ' bed. His eyes drifted to a red magazine in the top nightstand drawer.
He reached in and pulled out seven issues of "IRON MAN."
He groaned inwardly. It was like he was the only guy in the world who liked DC and not Marvel.
"You like Iron Man, huh?"
No answer.
"His suit is pretty cool."
No reaction.
"Maybe I could make a functioning replica of it."
It wasn't until he noticed he had Russ' undivided attention that Jaywhisker realized his mouth had gone on autopilot.
"Can you?"
"Uhhhh...sure. I can try."
Russ was smiling now. "That would be so cool!"
Jaywhisker hadn't seen Russ smile like that since they first met.
"It...It'll take a few days...or weeks...but I think it's possible."
"Can I try it out when you're done?"
"Maybe it's best if I make one for myself first. Just so that I'm the only one at risk."
"This is so awesome! I'm gonna be Iron Man!"
Jaywhisker smiled in spite of the sentence he had thrust upon himself. "I'll see what I can do, buddy."
"Jay!"
Jaywhisker turned around to have Russ give him a big hug.
"You're so cool."
Jaywhisker was so flattered, the only thing he could do was ruffle Russ's already messy hair.
"Thanks, buddy."
"So?" said Mallowleaf as Jay raced out of Russ' room.
"Have you seen my goggles?"
Mallowleaf smiled and pulled them out of her pocket, tossing them down over the second floor balcony to Jaywhisker's awaiting arms.
"So what're you making today, great inventor Jaywhisker?"
"I don't know," said the boy, feeling more excited than he had in days, "But if it works, it could help taking down ARS with a knockout punch."
Icecloud was first aware of a cold surface when she awoke.
Chilly, hard stone, as if every brick had been left out in a blizzard for a night.
She shivered, but the shaking of her body only came in momentary jitters, like a bird flapping her wings to shake snow off her feathers.
Slowly, she opened her eyes. Her environments were blurry, but she was in a dark gray environment with a pale, yellowing light being the only brightness in her environment. She groaned, forcing her eyes to adjust to the harsh, cold environment.
She tried to move until pain flared through her muscles. She tensed, groaning hard as she curled up in a smaller fetal ball.
She tried to remember where she last was, or what she last remembered. She vaguely remembered calling Jack before she was...jumped by a strange man.
That's when she remembered she had been zapped by a taser and knocked out.
Then she realized that she wasn't touching denim.
She was touching her own skin.
She looked down, and if she wasn't so in pain it hurt to move, she would have screamed.
She was naked.
She had been kidnapped.
Her breath hitched and her heart slammed in her chest. Where was she? Why was she here? Why was she naked?
A creepy, bone-chilling laugh answered that question with the worst possible answer.
"Lookie 'ere, boys," said a man to her right, "Look like our princess is awake."
No no no no no no no no no no no no no!
"Aw...look at 'er," said another male voice, "She looks so cute when she's so scared."
Icecloud sucked up the pain as best she could, stumbling to her feet. The world seemed to spin twenty times faster in that moment, and she stumbled to the back left corner, sliding down to her knees.
Fluids dripped down her inseam at a torturously slow rate.
"Whaddaya say? Wanna have another go?"
"Nah man, I'm spent. I've had the time of my life, though."
Icecloud looked up, trying to see who her assailants were, to see blurry, black figures, their faces obscured completely.
"No worries. She won't be going anywhere anytime soon. We got her all to ourselves."
NO! NO NO NO! THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING! THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING!
Why her?
Why this?
"HEAR THAT, PRINCESS?" shouted one of the men through an iron bar partition fifteen feet away, "GET YOURSELF READY! WE'LL BE BACK BRIGHT AND EARLY FIRST THING TOMORROW!"
She heard several pairs of footsteps walk farther and farther away.
She heard the loud slam of a metallic door.
And she was alone.
Completely alone.
Jack wasn't there.
Foxleap wasn't there.
Cinderheart, Poppyfrost, all of her friends weren't there.
She was alone.
Tears fell freely from her face.
Never in her life had she felt this lonely.
She cried.
Harder and harder.
She cried until she screamed. Blood-curdling, Bacchic, raw screams that would send terror into a cold man's heart.
She was abandoned.
All alone.
So, uh...
Here comes the hate.
Lately, I've been feeling ARS isn't villainous enough. So I pulled a Poppyfrost on Icecloud.
If you've read Jay's "Warriors High," you'll get that reference, and know that retribution is in order.
Icecloud will be out of this soon. Revenge will be hers.
Also, steam is coming from Dusty and Axis. And Jaywhisker has unlocked "genius billionaire playboy philanthropist" mode.
Next, an update on Fir's sneaky sneakiness. And possibly an update on Ashtooth and Coalstrike while we're at it.
Once again, I'm sorry for Icecloud. I've made the mistake of making an originally unlikeable character too likeable (*cough* Stripeheart *cough*), so this is just the beginning of the digging of their graves.
Theoretically.
Best, and apologies,
~Res
UPDATE: This will not be the last time I put a trigger warning in front of a chapter. Therefore, for future chapters and further forewarning a (TW) will be placed in front of chapters with sensitive content.