WARRIORS HIGH
ISLAND OF THE LOST
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
PRICE TAGS
Ravenheart had expected Garrison to escape when they left him.
But he didn't have to trash the place.
"Doesn't look like he stole anything of value," said Crowflight, going through drawers and cabinets and checking thoroughly.
"THAT BASTARD!" shouted Tigerjaw suddenly, putting the other two at arms.
"HE STOLE EVERYTHING FROM THE FRIDGE!"
They relaxed. For now, this mess seemed to be a dick move. "It's fine," said the smaller man, "We can just rebuy everything later…"
Ravenheart looked in the shared bedroom. Drawers had been searched and pillows had been ripped open. It looked like he had been searching for something specific.
"Raven!" called Crowflight from the kitchen.
"What?" she said.
"Look in the freezer."
She looked at them, confused, before opening the door.
The ice machine was busted and the freezer was empty except for…
"A VHS tape?" she said in confusion.
"Is it rigged?" he said, pulling it out and looking at it.
The woman ran her hand over the bitterly cold surface, observing it closely. "Nothing out of the ordinary," she said after a moment, "It's just a normal tape."
"Well, I don't wanna watch it," said Tigerjaw, "I'm gonna go restock our fridge."
Crowflight shut and locked the door before he could leave. "We're watching this together, like it or not," he growled, "Who knows what Garrison wants to tell us?"
Tigerjaw sighed in frustration, pulling up a chair in front of the television as Ravenheart rigged up the VHS player, put in the tape and pressed play.
"HEY!" snapped Crowflight in annoyance as the tape began, "He's wearing my suit!"
"Shh!"
Garrison stood in front of the camera, donning Crowflight's tuxedo and a polite, professional stance.
"Good afternoon, you three. Welcome to your lesson on economics for the day."
"Have you ever heard of the term 'net worth?' Well, in microeconomics, it's defined as the value of a compiling of assets owned by one person. Essentially, it's a price tag. How much a person is worth based on what they own. So for you three, it would be the apartment you own, the purchases you've made and the association you have-pardon-had with Sol."
He smiled.
"But we're not here to talk about the stock market. We're here to discuss something a bit more extreme…"
He turned the camera to a crude replica of a human being made of their household objects, including pillows, rubber bands, and 2 by 4s. On the pillow representing the head was a smiley face that looked to be drawn by a five year old.
"Let's start at the head and work our way down."
He grabbed a kitchen knife from an unseen table and vigorously stabbed open the left eye, reaching in and pulling out a small sphere of ice that the Triumvirate had sometimes used to embellish their margaritas.
"Now interestingly," started Garrison, "The eye is a very valuable organ. You wouldn't expect it to be that much until you consider it as a tell-all. It conveys emotion, gives you sight and so much more. That alone makes it worth a couple million."
Garrison slit open the mouth and pulled out a bag of frozen corn drenched in white paint.
"Now around the market, teeth are considered a fallback item. Easy to get, easy to sell and a nice way to get a couple grand in a pinch. Many people often smash their teeth out just to pay the rent nowadays."
Crowflight cringed.
"Let's move on to the vitalest organ of all: The heart."
He stabbed the pillow below the head and pulled out a small plushie of a heart with a cutesie face on it.
"What the hell is that?" said Ravenheart, "When did we get that?"
Tigerjaw bit his lip and continued watching.
"There are so many ways to use a human heart. You can eat it, cut it open, put it in a jar and show it off as a trophy or souvenir or even perform a dissection. It's such a fascinating, important and expensive organ. Even a weak one these days are bartered for over ten million."
"Now let's look at bones."
Garrison harshly yanked a 2 by 4 off of the body, making all three of the viewers flinch.
"There are about 200 bones in the human body, so when you take into account the age, quality, size and vitality, the range goes from about just under a grand…"
In a show of pure strength, Garrison snapped the perfectly stable and functioning piece of lumber over his knee in one try.
"...to about 100 million. All of the price depends on strength, vitality and health."
"And finally, the true jackpot."
Garrison took the knife and stabbed a hole into the lower pillow holding the legs. After a couple seconds of shuffling he pulled out something that made the Triumvirate flinch.
Two eggs in a Ziploc bag.
It didn't take a genius to get the message.
"You're probably wondering how this could be a hot commodity. Surely there can't be that many sick fucks that would throw their life savings at something like them. But it's not about the product itself…"
With one hand, Garrison crushed both of the eggs with one hand, making Tigerjaw gag, Ravenheart flinch and Crowflight cross his legs.
"...it's what's inside."
The madman smiled, setting the bag down. "Now, artificial insemination is not really a common practice. Not many can see the use of it. But when you get three otherworldly beings, with the powers of gods in their blood, it's just enough to put it up for sale and see where the prices can go."
"And I did just that."
Garrison grabbed a computer off of an unseen table and pointed the camera on a white website screen. It focused on a knockoff eBay site with pictures of three products with rapidly changing prices. And as the camera focused, all three of them gasped.
It was them. A brutally accurate reconstruction of their naked bodies.
And the prices were soaring.
The price for each of them was jumping at about $100,000 per refresh. One moment, the price of each of them was 600k, the next it was over a million.
"Funny, isn't it?" said the madman, "The craziest individuals to commit egregious fraud and laundering to get their hands on your brain."
"But that's it for your lesson in economics. I hope you took away something useful for future use."
A ding from the laptop.
"Oh," said Garrison, "Buyers are conducting a strike at 11:30."
The last thing they saw on the tape was Garrison looking straight into the camera and smiling.
The tape cut to black.
The Triumvirate were in shock.
Every second they sat still their bodies were being auctioned off.
Crowflight looked ready to throw up, Tigerjaw was almost in tears and Ravenheart was as pale as she had ever been.
None of them could have prepared for this.
"Guys."
"W-What?" said Ravenheart shakily.
"It's 11:29."
The three of them heard a whoosh above their apartment.
"Run." hissed Crowflight.
The three of them scrambled out the door and down the dingy hallway.
They got to the stairs down when a concussive explosion demolished their apartment and took the building with them.
"Do you think you can undress yourself?"
Icecloud remained sitting on the bench next to the tub, shaking.
"Okay, that's fine," said Lostface, helping her take off her shirt gently, "You've been through a lot, I can tell."
When she was stripped, Lostface helped Icecloud into the bathtub, the latter wrapping herself into a miserable ball in the hot water as the former lathered up a damp washcloth.
"So if it isn't too much, how did this happen to you?" she asked quietly, lathering up her hair and washing it off with a cup of water.
Icecloud's lip quivered. She wasn't interested in talking.
"That's alright," soothed Lostface, who was uncomfortable enough that she had to wash a recent rape victim. Awkwardly, she finished the job and grabbed a clean towel from a fresh cabinet, draining the bath and going over her skin with a towel.
"If it's any consolation," she muttered as she helped Icecloud up and back onto the bench, "Fang's sent some of our associates to get as much information on the people that did this to you. Rest assured we will kick their asses if it's the last thing we do."
"A-ARS…"
Lostface's eyes widened. She got to a squatting position and grabbed her hands.
"T-They beat m-me...r-raped me...f-forty-three t-times…"
Forty-three times.
Forty-three.
Lostface was going to be sick.
"We will find these bastards," she growled threateningly, "show them no mercy, see them off to hell ourselves and make sure Satan himself tears them limb by fucking limb."
Icecloud's eyes filled with tears, the trauma in her eyes as clear as day.
"J-Jack…"
Lostface nodded, grabbing a new pair of underwear and the softest bathrobe she could find and helped put it on her. She helped her to the door, where Jack Graves anxiously waited.
Icecloud fell into his arms and hugged for twenty seconds.
"Thank you…" muttered the agent, his eyes wet.
Lostface nodded gruffly. "Bedroom's on the second door to the left," she said, scooting past them and moving to a control room.
"That bad, huh?" said Fang as she grabbed a cask of whiskey from the counter and drank it from the bottle.
"Forty-three times."
Fang was mortified.
"You're lying."
"We must destroy those motherfuckers with the most prejudice a human can muster. What have you got?"
"They're called the Assassins of the Rising Sun," he started, "They're responsible for two major bombings on the former American colony of Lindisfarne, and they're here now."
"That's it?!" snapped Lostface.
Fang shrugged, frustration seeping through. "They're ghosts. They're so organized and quiet between attacks it's like they form spontaneously, blow up a couple of buildings and dissipate completely."
"Fuck!" said Lostface, smashing the drink against the table and slumping into a chair, "They must pay. They can't do this to an innocent woman and expect to get away with it!"
"I know…"
The room was silent.
"Check this out," said Fang.
"What? You find something?"
"Maybe," he said, pulling up a news article. The headline read "TWENTY-SIX BUSINESSES MIGRATED TO FORRESTLAKE IN THE LAST TWO WEEKS: WHAT THIS MEANS FOR THE ECONOMY AND WHO YOU SHOULD FOLLOW"
"That's...That's a lot."
"Who knows?" he said, "It could just be a coincidence. Some greedy fuckers capitalizing on Scourge's attack on the city."
"Hm…" said Lostface, gears turning in her head at full speed.
"Keep an eye on this," she said, "It's a stretch, but we may be onto something."
Sunfield never thought spying would be this hard.
He was supposed to be making friends with this guy, but that was difficult when he was taking almost every precaution conceivable to avoid everyone except the two people he talked to.
And now he was trapped as a backup singer in Advanced Band, which he started tomorrow.
The pressure was almost enough to make him reconsider being a spy.
Almost.
He had set a goal for himself today. Today he was going to listen in to one of Dusty's conversations, find a topic that he talked about and start a conversation with him on it. Seemed simple enough to be effective.
So he went through the day watching him from a distance. He was being very anti-social, not talking to anyone for most of the day, until passing time for lunch, when he picked up something between him and Jaywhisker.
"They've got better morals! I'm telling you, the best lessons I've learned have come from DC movies! What do you get from Marvel movies? They're basically long action sequences!"
"It's not about morals. It's about character development! Lemme ask you this. What major characters have had no development since they were first introduced?"
"Easy! Captain Marvel and…"
"See? If we take that movie out of the picture, you see these people slowly change! Tony Stark went from a selfish, drunk billionaire to a man who sacrifices himself to save the universe. Captain America went from screwing himself over trying to save everyone to resolving his ambiguities by fighting for who he truly wanted to save! Banner spends his whole life thinking of the Hulk as a poison until he coalesces with him and becomes one with him! Thor is a selfish, unlikeable hothead until he learns from his father that he has great power and is willing to save the universe! Do you get that kind of storytelling from DC? Is there ever that much love put into each of those characters and the stories they lead?"
That was all Sunfield heard. He had all he needed.
So he kept on following him, trying to bump into him and initiate a conversation with him, but he was staying so deliberately distant that it seemed that he never got the chance.
But towards the end of the day, he got his chance.
Everyone was heading out and the hallways were mostly empty. Sunfield stayed by the entrance, hopefully being able to catch him before he left the building.
But as luck had it, he caught Dusty heading down a separate hallway. So he ran after him and followed him.
The hallway was empty except for the two of them, so Sunfield could easily see Dusty get a text, look at it and pick up his pace. Sunfield matched it, hopefully finally being able to get to him.
So he followed him until he abruptly turned into the men's room. There he waited for a second, thinking he was being too proactive, counted to three and followed him inside.
He saw the door next to the handicapped stall close and lock. Being much quieter to catch any suspicious noises, he slowly entered the handicapped stall and locked the door.
Immediately he was jumped, one hand going onto his mouth and the other holding a very sharp Swiss Army knife to his throat.
"You think I haven't noticed you following me around?" snarled Dusty quietly into his ear.
Sunfield's eyes widened.
"At first I thought you wanted to be friends, but there's a purpose for you doing this, isn't there?"
He pressed the edge of the blade against his throat, making him cringe and squirm.
"Who are you and who do you work for?"
Sloppy, I know. But I needed to get back into the game with something.
But the first hints of Sky's master plan have been unearthed. I know some of you have the ingenuity to guess it right away, so shoot me a DM if you feel confident enough.
Next chapter, more Dusty and Axis, Coalstrike and Seashell and I'll figure out what the hell to do with Crow.
Best,
~Res