Chapter Text
When all of Apollo was flooded over with the ocean surrounding it, Jones hated that he felt relieved.
To see his betrayer try and ultimately fail at his diabolical plan brought Jones a feeling of immense satisfaction. It was selfish, he knew; with the island flooded, it was going to be hard to keep all the Loopers within it. It was, most of the time, a hundred of them. Now there were only a few distinct 'mini-islands’ for them to battle on. Jones was concerned for the wellbeing of the Loop, as was the rest of the Imagined Order.
Not all of Ghost nor Shadow was gone, however. Rumor had it that the golden king had been eaten by a shark, which Jones didn't buy for one second, as he'd definitely been through worse and come out just as cocky and arrogant as he was from day one. There were still Ghost and Shadow members on Apollo, one of them being his daughter, Jules, as well as some others.
The IO knew they had to take them down, because they knew their ultimate goal was to take them down, no matter which side they were on.
That was the last Jones had seen of Midas in a good while.
It was a good few years after then that he had long since ditched the IO, now being aware of their intentions. But he still held resentment towards Midas. Why did he have to just take off like that? Could he not just have explained his plans?
Needless to say, when he heard he was on Helios, he ignored him as much as he possibly could. Luckily for him, most of his endeavors there were disclosed solely between the Loopers. As soon as he had what he needed (A.K.A. his beloved crewmate back and a well belated apology to his daughter), he left on his yacht, along with the rest of his crew.
Then… Midas arrived on Oninoshima.
When he said he was searching for a better place to focus on his plans, Oninoshima was the last place Jones had expected him to appear. Of all the universes, of all the different islands and realities, what were the odds?
So instantly, Jones was suspicious of him. It wasn't the first time, and it absolutely would not be the last. When he heard he was emerging from the shadows to rebel against the island's newest threat, he knew he was claiming to be the hero. He couldn't let himself fall for it one bit.
That brings us to today.
The Supernova Academy was getting ready to take down Oninoshima’s latest villain — Daigo. Or, maybe an evil soul possessing his body? It was complicated, and they didn't really have all the answers right now. But needless to say, Jones was keeping a sharp eye out on the golden king; just as much as he had from the start.
8:15 A.M., Monday
Jones stood at the doorway with his morning coffee, the air unusually crisp and frosty. It was summer on the island, but he supposed the dead leaves and trees that now surrounded the academy were tainted with cold spirits, enough to affect the weather.
Haylee Skye, the peppy blonde cheerleader, was teaching a new routine to the other students in an attempt to hype them up. But really, everyone was scared for what was about to happen. Even Jones, who was supposed to be someone for the kids to look up to.
Jones felt someone approach at his shoulder, and almost recoiled as soon as he saw who it was.
“Jones.”
He snapped his head around to see Midas himself, dressed in that stupid tank top and jeans getup, leaned against the wall near him like he owned the place.
Jones moved back a little. He smelled good. Why did he smell so good? He hated that. Hated it.
“What is it?” he asked, voice as cold and snappy as every other time he had been forced to speak with him. This was one of the few times it was just them alone, however. Usually, it was a whole team meeting — them, Hope, Jade, Kendo, and whoever else was available.
Not that he would ever want to talk with him, like, ever, but Jones wasn't particularly happy to see Midas right at this moment, either. He was still waking up, hence the barely-touched coffee in his hand, and he'd just heard about Hope and Midas' little secret. He wasn't exactly thrilled to learn about it so late into the whole ‘managing an academy of superheroes’ thing, but whatever.
“Are you worried?” the other man asked.
Jones opened his mouth to say something, but then decided it was a little too rushed. He opened his mouth again to say, “Maybe. Why would you care? Are you worried?”
Maybe he was being too mean, but he knew it also didn't read like that to Midas a lot of the time. Because a lot of the time, he just came off as a mad kitten. He'd even been told that by Midas once. (Well, he'd said he reminded him of when Meowscles was younger, but that was practically the same thing.)
“Yes,” Midas then outright admitted. It was tough to get him to admit most things, so Jones was surprised. “And I'm worried about you.”
Jones rolled his eyes behind his shades. Midas had said things like this before while working at Supernova, but there was never a time he didn't just shrug it off his shoulders. He couldn't just disappear like nothing had happened between them and then come back and act all caring and kind. That was just shitty. Incredibly shitty.
“I'm fine,” Jones insisted. “If you have anything of substance to tell me, do let me know. But right now, I'm literally just trying to wake up.” He pointed to his mug of coffee, complete with a little cartoony version of Peely. Oh, he missed Peely.
“Alright.” He raised his golden hands in defeat. And then, just as Jones had wanted the entire time, he backed off.
8:35 A.M.
Cheer ‘practice’ ended. There weren't enough people going to this academy for there to be many interested in cheerleading. Ellie, A.K.A. Synthwave, was though.
Ellie was invested in their routine, holding as much hope as Haylee that it would be amping up the others for their big fight that would inevitably happen. Not even a week from now. Everyone walked away but Morgan.
“I wanna say, thanks for helping me stay positive,” she said with a smile on her face.
“Aw, I learned it from you.” Haylee brightly smiled, too. It was hard not to when around Morgan.
“I have a really good feeling about this. I think I was extremely nervous before, and rightfully so, but the Academy has taught me so much,” the black-haired girl reflected, eyes shifting to the ground for a moment. Then they went back up to Haylee’s face. “I think I'm ready. To step up and lead.”
Haylee grabbed her hands, giving them a gentle squeeze in her own. “You're gonna do amazing. We all are!”
Just to kill the mood a little, Bridget “Lightrider” Witherspoon spoke up from the wall she was leaned against; the outer wall of Mr. Jones’ office. “Can I be honest?” she said, as if anyone wanted to hear it. “I don't think it's likely that we're all going to make it out of this alive.”
Haylee scowled, letting go of Morgan's hands as she spun around to face her. “Not with that attitude we aren't, Bridget.”
“Pfft. And what is cheerleading gonna do about it? It's better to just be realistic. Expect disappointment so you won't be upset when it fails. You know?”
“No, I don't know.” Haylee twitched. “Telling people to think positively isn't a ‘it will all be okay for sure’. It's a ‘do your best, I'm here with you’.” She crossed her arms. “I thought you would know this by now. Or have you just not been listening?”
Bridget rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, princess.”
“Don't call me that.”
“Are you girls bickering again?” asked Hope, who'd seemingly appeared from out of the shadows. “Because that's not gonna do a thing. In fact,” she checked the time, “you three should be off to your first class by now.” She stood with a hand on her hip expectantly. Hope was firm, but it was because she cared. She really did care.
“Sorry, miss,” Morgan said. She looked to Haylee, who also apologized, and they walked together without a word, Bridget slowly trailing behind.
Once they were gone, Hope shook her head and sighed. What am I gonna do with them? she wondered. Before she would walk back towards the Academy building too, she swung around to take a look at the dark, daunting environment that had grown around the location. A chill ran down her spine, a thick lump of dread forcing its way down her throat.
She was not prepared. She was not prepared at all.