WARRIORS HIGH
ISLAND OF THE LOST
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
SOCIETY OF TRAITORS
TRIGGER WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER CONTAINS DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND GORE THAT IS ACTUALLY WELL WRITTEN FOR ONCE. IF THIS MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, PLEASE SKIP THE FIRST PART OF THIS CHAPTER OR CONSIDER SKIPPING THIS CHAPTER ALTOGETHER
AUTHOR'S NOTE: For continuity purposes, the days after the Forrestlake bombing will be tracked in Days. For example, Day 0 is the day of the bombing, Day 1 is the day after, etc. Hopefully this isn't too confusing. Let me know if you would like me to change it back.
DAY 0
Takes place after Chapter 50 of The New Era
"Who the hell is this guy?!" snapped Jayfeather, powering up.
No one bothered to give him an answer. Fernsong looked as if he was trying to dig up something in his memory to tell him who he was, but Jay's Wing beat him to it, face contorting into rage.
"You…" he snarled.
"Yep. Me," said Garrison, "How's it going? I see you guys are giving out free hugs and spilling secrets over teatime."
Firestar stepped in front of the group, gun drawn and pointed right between Garrison's eyes. By now, the trademark charming smile was long gone, replaced by an ugly scowl.
Garrison just scoffed. "Well, if it isn't Forrestlake's prized playboy."
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't send you back to hell first class right now."
"Oh, relax," sighed the man, rolling his eyes, "I'm not gonna kill you, no. You got a city… or what's left of it, rather, to lead. No no. I'm only going to kill him."
He pointed right at Jay's Wing, whose eyes were steely and showing no signs of remorse or fear.
Fernsong just laughed. "You really think that you can waltz on in here and stop the most powerful men in the universe with nothing but a shotgun?"
"No."
Garrison dropped the shotgun, kicked it aside and removed his black helmet, revealing the stubbled man with aggression and smarts beyond his dark green eyes.
"I don't bring guns to a fistfight. Too much of an advantage."
Fernsong just scoffed in disgust, but Firestar's eyes hardened with his grip as rage burned in the iconically-charismatic eyes. "You're talking a lot of shit for a lowlife rapist."
That struck a nerve. Immediately Jayfeather and Fernsong were powering up as Garrison slinked closer to the muzzle of Firestar's gun.
"So you looked up my prison records. Big deal. What are you gonna do, threaten me with life in prison?" Garrison straightened, "Or is this part of your next campaign? Arrest every seventeenth person you walk by because there's a statistical chance they're a rapist? Or try for the thousandth time in history to fix up a system that can be corrupted with a couple of hundreds? They may see you as some bigshot CIA bigot, but to me, you're nothing more than a politician whose parents let them play around with guns."
Firestar didn't react, but Fernsong certainly did. He roared, charging at Garrison and throwing the largest haymaker he'd ever dared to swing.
The hit landed, and the impact forced a gust of wind which made Jayfeather duck and Firestar flinch.
Both looked up, expecting to at least see a sizeable dent in Garrison's skull.
Jayfeather's eyes widened in horror.
Garrison wasn't just alive and standing. He had caught the punch. He didn't look like he even flinched.
"What?!" snapped Fernsong, "HOW?!"
The commander just smirked.
"Like I said. Even playing field."
He shoved Fernsong away and stepped back, revealing his body surrounded in a pearly white aura. His skin glowed like a dull lightbulb, illuminating the well-earned cocky grin on Garrison's face.
Jay's Wing's eyes widened in horror. "Impossible…" he breathed.
There was only one way that Garrison could have survived that punch.
"He has a Moonstone."
"WHAT?!" snapped the three others in shock.
Garrison just chuckled, his skin now the brightness of a desk lamp. "Give the old man a prize."
"That's impossible!" roared Fernsong, "Rock has all of them!"
"Well, I'd ramble on to you about our 'master plan' and how we're gonna take over the world and shit, but then again, you are wasting a lot of time. Yours, mine and about two million people who are going to die in less than three minutes."
Jayfeather growled, his blue aura engulfing his figure. "Then we'll just have to kill you quicker than usual."
Garrison took the hint, arranging himself to a fighting stance.
"Try me."
The parties charged, Jayfeather in the lead accompanied by a near-feral battle cry.
He swung a haymaker at Garrison, desperate to make contact, but the commander was faster, grabbing his wrist and ramming his opposite elbow right between his ribs. The breath flew out of him as his arm was flung down and knocked aside with a blow to the side of the head.
Fernsong was right on his tail, but Garrison quickly redirected his blow, spun on his soles underneath the clenched fist and landed a brutal punch to the back of his head, flooring him almost immediately.
Firestar charged right at him, gun in hand, but the resulting shot grazed the side of the commander's head. Unfazed, he ripped the gun out of his grip and horse collared him to the stone floor by the throat, sending the leader into a momentary wheezing fit. Quickly, Garrison grabbed him by the collar and threw him up against the wall.
Jay's Wing tried to take the opportunity to land a blow, but the commander turned and swung his foot up into his jaw, unbalancing him enough for a second blow to the chest to send him stumbling away. However, Firestar took this second-long distraction to grab a combat knife from his back pocket and slam it into the side of Garrison's neck.
He roared in pain, but it wasn't nearly enough to deter him as he ripped the knife from the wound, threw it to the ground and disposed of Forrestlake's leader by flinging him away from the wall and flooring him with an elbow to the back of the neck. Jay's Wing was back on him, though, as the knife flew to his hand.
He swung at Garrison, skinning his upper spine and shredding his shirt, and used his moments of unbalance to grip both of his wrists and ram his foot into his stomach, sending the commander slamming against the wall. Jay's Wing gripped the knife, preparing a killing blow, but at the last moment, Garrison slid away, sending the blade into the wall. Fast as lightning, he gripped the weapon-wielding wrist, sent an elbow to the side of the head and kicked him between the leg joints, making his legs give out.
Suddenly, as Garrison pried the knife from the wall, Fernsong charged again, flooring the commander with a massive headbutt and stamping down on his chest. Fueled with rage, he pried the knife from Garrison's fist, twirled it, and tried to end it. Barely, though, did the commander edge out the blow by whipping his head to the side and causing Fernsong to lodge the blade into the floor. Using the impact force, he whipped a blow to the shoulder and landed a brutal punch to Fernsong's head, sending it bouncing against the hard concrete and causing blood to pour out from the wound immediately.
Garrison grabbed the worn and twisted blade from the ground and tried to knock Fernsong out of the battle for good, but a sudden force on his ankle interfered. He turned around to see Jayfeather, hand outstretched with a blue aura wrapped around his ankle like a house arrest cuff. Almost comically was the assassin dragged across the ground, dulling the blade he held in hopes for some grip to resist.
By now, Jay's Wing was back on his feet. Using his telekinesis, he slipped the blade through Garrison's fingers and into his outstretched hand, taking the nod from Jayfeather to send the blade to his throat.
"You're finished, motherfucker," he snarled as he flung the blade right at his throat.
But the moment the blade went into freefall, a pearly white aura froze the knife in midair. Working quickly off of the sudden confusion, Garrison flung the butt of the blade square at Jay's Wing's skull with the force of a brick. There was a resounding crack, making Jayfeather hesitate and waver long enough for Garrison to break out of the unseen grip, stumble to his knees and whip out his left hand. A snow-like circle gripped Jayfeather's neck as he was thrust right into Garrison's uppercut and flung into the air like a crash test dummy.
Garrison looked for the knife quickly, but found it in Firestar's grip as he slashed him across the chest. He stumbled back, but as Firestar tried to land another slice, he grabbed the blade out of the air, feeling the sharpness sever the skin on his fingers, and twisted his wrist. With a snap, the blade was snapped right off of the knife like a twig. Adjusting his grip so he held the blade like a shuriken, he whipped it down and across Firestar's body with one clean swipe, slicing right through his clothes and scoring a nasty scar from his shoulder to his stomach.
Fernsong tried to get to his feet, woozy from the concussion he had just been dealt, but Garrison saw his feebleness and flung the blade. With Moonstone-assisted precision, the blade sliced right between Fernsong's ribs, causing him to crumple over, screaming in agony.
Jayfeather was back up, adrenaline pumping like needles through his blood. He roared and charged the commander, swinging punch after sloppy, ill-timed, weary punch that Garrison easily parried. After three swings, he reached over and gripped his shoulder, causing him to stumble, and roundhoused right into his spine, which sent him sliding across the cold concrete floor.
It was clear that Garrison now comfortably held the upper hand. Regardless, Firestar tried to land one more blow with what was left of his knife, but Garrison whipped his hand out, restraining the leader's wrist in midair, and sent a twirling roundhouse kick right into his jaw. Another snap inside of his mouth reminded Firestar painfully of his humanity as he was tossed aside to the floor.
It seemed like all was lost for the four heroes until Garrison was floored with a massive blow to the back of the head. Looking up, he saw Jay's Wing, hand outstretched to receive his loaded shotgun and cock it instantly.
Shit, he thought.
Garrison, thinking quickly, stumbled backwards mid-standing to avoid the shot. With a BANG, the pellet grazed his hairline by the width of his fingernail, and the commander curled into a backward somersault and rolled back onto his feet. Ducking out of Jayfeather's attempt to restrain him, he sent out his aura to grip the shotgun and flung it aside.
As Jay's Wing recovered from the disarming, he caught a momentary glance between him and Jayfeather. He quickly assumed they were planning a double team, so he got to his feet and landed a punch right in Jayfeather's chest, sending him to the wall and discombobulating him just as the old man charged up behind him.
Even though it was two on one, Garrison dominated as the meat of the sandwich. His opponents were off sync with each other enough for Garrison to duck out of blows while landing others. Jayfeather would throw a punch which Garrison dodged by moving his head while jutting his elbow into Jay's Wing's chest and putting Jayfeather into a headlock while dealing kicks to Jay's Wing behind him. After about six or seven exchanged blows, Garrison ducked, thrust his shoulder into Jayfeather's chest and threw his body into Jay's Wing. Without a second glance, the commander grabbed Jayfeather by the collar and with one mighty heave, threw him over his shoulder and flat on the ground with a SLAM, knocking the wind and will to fight right out of him.
Jay's Wing, refusing to give up, stumbled to Garrison and tried to land a weary blow, but he easily parried and kicked him to the wall.
Exhausted and in pain, Jay's Wing slumped up against the wall, bleeding and swelling from head to toe.
Without looking back, Garrison reached out his right hand behind him. Fifty feet away, the shotgun slid across the ground to his hand.
"NO!" shouted Firestar hopelessly.
BANG!
The gunshot went right through Jay's Wing's stomach, causing blood to splash all over his body and the ground around him. He lay panting against the wall, the only things keeping him breathing being power-assisted strength and raw refusal to die.
Fernsong lay in a bloody crumpled mess, holding the wound in his chest that was so deep it nearly nicked his heart. This was definitely the first time his weakness had been exploited, Garrison resolved.
Firestar was trying desperately to crawl to Jay's Wing, blood dripping from his chest like a trail and pouring from his shattered jaw like a waterfall. After army-crawling about three feet, his muscles gave out and he slumped to the ground, defeated and on the brink of unconsciousness.
Jayfeather was coughing and wheezing like never before, the pain from his wounds working past the adrenaline in his veins as he tried to reorient himself after the body slam.
Garrison dropped the shotgun, a condescending smirk on his face as the white aura faded from around him.
As if on cue, a resounding BOOM echoed through the catacombs. The shockwave of the bombs rattled the catacombs like a small tremor.
Garrison had defeated four of the most powerful men in the world in under three minutes.
And they had lost millions of lives because of it.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
"Wow," said Garrison, his voice slick with snark as he applauded, "I thought this would at least be an even fight. The one where the stakes are highest, the chips are all in and all of you, all four of you, didn't even stand a chance. If I didn't know any better, I probably would've thought that you met just yesterday."
He ruffled in his pocket and pulled out a slick black device with the design of a joystick, but with three sharp prongs on the end. He flipped the switch as he sauntered over to Jay's Wing, slowly bleeding out.
"Now then," he muttered silkily, "To business."
He crouched in front of Jay's Wing, leaning so they were eye to dying eye. "Now I've heard a lot about these Moonstones," he said, twirling the pronged instrument between his fingers, "All the powers and shit that come with it is enough to stroke the dicks of everyone on the black market, but one of the most appealing things to me has been how you have the power to live as long as Adam and Eve. I mean, look at you! You're, what, 3000 years old? You look like you're coming on 60!"
"How…" rasped Jay's Wing, "How do you know…?"
"Ah. The million dollar question," said Garrison, "The question our dear audience all around the world wants to know! Well, I'm willing to tell you my little secret if you spill yours. Because I know there's something. Something only you know but you're just dying to tell."
Jay's Wing remained silent, his only response a hardened glare.
"That's what I thought," said Garrison, clicking his tongue, "Shame. But when we get that Moonstone shard out of your bloodstream, we'll figure it out ourselves."
The old man's eyes widened.
The device Garrison was holding wasn't just a torture device.
It was an extractor.
The device that would strip away his power forever.
The device that would kill him once and for all.
"Now hold still. This won't hurt a bit," said the commander as he slowly pierced the prongs into the side of Jay's Wing's neck.
"Wait," he stuttered desperately as he felt the deadly electricity tickle the skin on his neck, "WAIT!"
Garrison relinquished the device. "Something to say?"
Jay's Wing looked him in the eye, a scowl bright on his dying face.
"Υπάρχουν κι άλλοι. Θα σε βρουν. Θα σε σκοτώσουν."
Garrison had no idea what that meant, but it sounded like a threat.
"Hm. Sounds like Greek," he said, nodding mockingly, "You were from the Spartan days, right? Interesting choice. Because when a non-English speaker finds themselves at the hands of God, their original dialect is often their dying words.
"I find that interesting."
Wasting no more time, Garrison stabbed the extractor into Jay's Wing's neck. Electricity screamed through his body as he let out a blood-curdling scream. He could do nothing as the very source of his life and power was stripped away.
The three others could only watch in horror as blood splattered out of the wounds and onto the ground like sewage from a pipe. The skin aged years in seconds as it wrinkled and decomposed in upon itself like a rotting orange. His fingernails fell out of his now bony fingers to the ground with an unheard clatter, his teeth rot into moldy gray and yellow chips and pieces and his eyes began to cave in on itself, retreating farther and farther back into the rotting skull as the size and life were squeezed out of it.
After about seventy seconds, Garrison finally pulled out the extraction device. Held between the prongs and dripping with blood was a bright blue shard of a Moonstone. The very last thing that kept the old man alive. Satisfied, he slipped the extractor in his pocket and walked away, grabbing his mask and shotgun as he headed towards the door.
"Well, I had a ball," said Garrison, sparing a last look at the defeated group, "Can't stay around long, though. I gotta get my people ready for nuclear fallout and all that jazz."
He slipped his mask on, covering his face in menacing black. "I did have fun, though. Maybe we could do this again sometime. Invite your friends, too. They seem like they need the shit beaten out of them sometime."
He stood at the door, watching as Jayfeather and Firestar stumbled and crawled to the withering Jay's Wing. "Catch you later. If you ever wanna fight, you know where to find me."
The door to the chamber shut with a resounding THUD.
Jayfeather's head slumped over as he fell flat on his belly, eyes wet with grief.
"I'm sorry…" he rasped between sniffs, "We...we failed you…"
Jay's Wing didn't have many muscles left to move by now, but he managed to roll his head enough so Jayfeather could see his swiftly dying eyes.
With the last sliver of effort he could muster, he shifted his bony, withered arm so it clattered off of his lap, outstretched palm rested in front of his successor.
Taking the sign, Jayfeather took his hand.
And in that moment, he was given a transmission. A final set of telekinetic instructions, scenarios and battle plans. It was intricate, but those seconds of silent revelation and learning were enough to bring Jayfeather from grief.
In spite of his skin peeling off from his bones, Jayfeather smirked at the figure. He couldn't say he knew he had a plan all along, but he was pretty damn glad that he had one regardless.
A bleeding Firestar reached out a hand to Jay's Wing's leg as he wept, grieving over the former leader. A pang of guilt ran through Jayfeather. The two must have been mentor and student.
He stumbled over to Fernsong, who for the first time looked worn out. Defeated. It was almost sickening to see from one of the most overconfident individuals he knew.
"We lost." he said quietly.
"Yeah."
The two sat in silence, grimacing at their respective pains and throbs.
"So what now?" said Fernsong, "We sure as hell didn't plan for that son of a bitch to have a Moonstone."
"We surrender."
Both looked over at Firestar, whose once-charismatic face was slumped in sullen grief and remorse. "He's won. Rock's won. He's defeated us and killed the very people I swore to protect. What more can we do now?"
"Well...we can do what Jay's Wing wanted us to do."
Firestar and Fernsong looked up, eyes suddenly bright with interest. "You have a plan?"
"I don't,"said Jayfeather, "But he does. It's a pretty damn good one."
He worked himself to his feet and offered his hand to Fernsong.
"And if we do it just right, it might be enough to save us all."
DAY 6
Daniel Brazelton was currently on the phone with the disgraced Sofia Bennett.
"Fantastic. How much would you like?"
He cringed inward. Carte blanche was a move of desperation, often seen as extremely unprofessional. If anyone were to find out that this deal was going down with the very same girl that almost destroyed the company, his career was over.
"Five hundred thousand to a Forrestlake recovery fund. And no bullshit on . A real fund. One that can help bring the island back to its feet."
Brazelton nodded. "Anything else?"
Bennett thought for a moment. "Whatever the cost is for an engagement ring and a three-bedroom house."
Another unseen nod. "That can be arranged. We appreciate you working with us, Ms. Bennett. We'll send you the census and police reports as soon as possible."
"Thank you, Mr. Brazelton."
The call ended and the editor of the New York Times slumped over in his chair, exhausted.
"Can you let me out now?"
"No, not yet," said Garrison, holding a gun to his head, "Give me the full details. How much of a payday did we get from your industry?"
Brazelton snarled. "You're not gonna get away with this."
"You are literally bound to a chair by zipties and a gun is pointed at the back of your head," repeated the commander, "How much money does she want donated?"
Brazelton hesitated a couple moments more before sighing in defeat.
"Five hundred grand."
"There," said Garrison, moving the gun away, "Was that so hard?"
"Where's my wife, Garrison?"
"Oh, Jesus," he muttered, rubbing his eyes with his fingers, "Here we go."
"Why are you doing this to my family?! I have kids! I have a wife! Why me?! What does that piece of shit who bombed Forrestlake want from me?!"
"Nothing."
Brazelton froze.
"Why would he?" continued Garrison, "All you are is a thirty-year-old man with a bachelor's degree in journalism. Considering the stakes in power, you really are nothing special. Hell, your wife's the real breadwinner here. Ambassador to Lindisfarne is quite the difficult and prestigious role. The only reason you're even involved with the Times is because she had lunch with Nancy Pelosi every Friday afternoon.
"In the truest sense, you really are a useless human being. Of course Rock, the totalitarian all-powerful god who has all the testosterone and hissy fits in the world would want nothing to do with a lowlife scumbag like you."
Brazelton was silent as Garrison continued.
"You see, you asked the wrong question. 'What does Rock want with you?' That's the easiest question I would have given an answer to.
"The question should have been: 'What do we want with you?'"
It was at that precise moment that Daniel Brazelton, who all things considered wasn't the brightest, realized what ARS was going to do.
"You're going to turn on him."
"Ooh," said Garrison, grabbing a Snickers bar from his pocket and taking a bite, "Now that's an interesting idea. Do explain."
"You've been assisting Rock for months now. To go behind his back to kidnap me and force me to hire the same girl who almost destroyed our company must have some motive that ARS would benefit."
Brazelton turned around, his head only moving enough to only see a glance of Garrison licking chocolate off of his fingers from the corner of his eye. "You're gonna rig the census. You're gonna say all of your soldiers are dead so that they can't be tracked."
Garrison looked up in momentary surprise before swallowing it down. "I'm impressed," he said, grabbing his pistol off of the table, "Maybe you're a bit of a brighter light bulb than we thought."
"But why?!" cried Brazelton incredulously, "Rock has nukes! He'll literally destroy you! Why are you betraying him when the stakes are this high."
"We're a society of traitors, Danny," said Garrison, cocking the pistol, "You think we'd swear an alliance and our full commitment to a motive that's not our own?"
Brazelton was silent again as Garrison walked to the door.
"There are two things you should know about the game we play, Daniel. We know how to play and who to play. And you just got a first-hand experience."
Garrison pointed the pistol at the back of the editor's head. With a BANG, the man slumped over, blood pouring out from the bullet wound.
By the time Garrison had snuck back out of the three-story mansion that was home to the Brazeltons, Daniel Brazelton was dead.
DAY 13
"Again."
With Sky's command, the soldier swung a hefty blow at the man's head, causing him to once again cough and spit out blood and teeth.
"One last chance, Mr. Warden," threatened Sky with no emotion in her voice, "Where are the blueprints?"
The warden struggled to find breath, slowly choking over his own blood. "Goh...the factory...there's a f-f-false brick-...we hid it from the p-p-p-prisoner-rs."
"Very good," said Sky, signaling for the soldiers to get their victim medical attention, "Thank you for your compliance, Mr. Mudclaw."
As the disgraced and bloodied warden was carried away, Sky's pager on her helmet headpiece went off.
"Sky here."
"Mr. Garrison is calling you from the base in Chariot."
"Thank you. Put him on."
The first thing Sky heard was loud, raucous cheering. "Sounds like a helluva party, Commander."
"I just let the soldiers know about the news. The fake census was eaten up like bacon."
"Well, don't break out the alcohol just yet. I'll need you sober for Stage 3."
"Of course. How many are you sending to Alaska?"
Sky walked into a cold room and flipped a switch. The lights came on and showed twenty-one unconscious hostages, heads covered in black cloth.
"Twenty-two. We're moving them to the plane now."
"Shall I ready the chambers?"
"Please," said the captain as black-masked soldiers grabbed the bodies from the chairs and carried them off to the hangar a couple hundred meters away, "Tell them RETCON-41 is a go. I expect the chambers to be ready for my arrival in four days time."
"Yes, captain," said Garrison, ending the call.
As the hostage room was cleared out, Sky couldn't resist a confident smile.
The moment Rock realized that ARS had betrayed him was the moment that he would fall. Sky was familiar with his psychology. He would not be prepared for 60% of his soldiers to drop out almost immediately.
When the Three and the Resistance attacked, Rock's reign would fall.
And then the stage was hers.
I HAVE RETURNED!
Man, did I need that vacation. Not only did this chapter require a lot of thought, but I was also able to finalize my plans for the next couple chapters. It feels good to be organized. It feels even better to return with a chapter like this.
Regardless of the quality compared to others, this is most certainly my best fight scene. It took a lot of thought and rewriting, but from someone who is really, really bad at fight scenes (See Arc 0), this was excellent by my standards.
And how about Garrison getting the spotlight? I was tasked rather abruptly with writing Jay's Wing's death scene, so I did my best to make one of my main villains an outright badass. I hope I didn't disappoint.
Finally, plot points and developments galore! YES, there is another Moonstone. YES, Sky has been planning to betray Rock from the start. YES, the last name Brazelton was intentional. YES, Daniel Brazelton was correct in his predictions. NO, I am not planning to take the editor of the New York Times hostage.
If you're confused, you're not alone. ARS' plan is one of the most convoluted and complex machinations I have ever created.
And hopefully, it will not disappoint.
Best,
~Res
(P.S. This is officially the longest chapter I have ever written, clocking at just over 5,000 words. This will not be happening again. It's way too much work for my tiny brain.)