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"YouTube, bro! That's at least a five percent bump right there!"

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''THAT BREAD HAD mold on it three days ago," Pope commented, watching JJ smear peanut butter over a stale slice.

"I'll just pull off the bad parts. Plus, mold is good for you. It's just a natural organism," JJ replied confidently, giving Pope an unbothered grin.

''JJ, mold isn't good for you—'' I started, but he cut me off, talking over me before I could finish.

"Yup, yup, yup!" He snatched up his bread and a can of beer, practically dancing over to where John B and I were huddled, eyeing the mysterious envelope we'd just found. "Hot damn! Let's do it!" JJ announced, taking a big bite of the moldy bread, then promptly gagged, spitting it right into his hand.

I sighed, glancing at the basket on the counter. ''There were fresh bananas right there, JJ.''

He looked over, blinking in surprise, then bolted to the counter, grabbing a banana like it was a priceless treasure. After peeling it with eager hands, he returned just as John B spread the map out on the table, smoothing the worn paper with his palms.

"Holy shit," John B muttered, his eyes tracing over the lines, grids, and notations carefully inked onto the map.

"Oh. X marks the spot," Pope pointed out, his finger landing on the red "X" marked in the corner, clearly done by Big John's hand.

"Longitude, latitude," John B whispered as he pointed out the coordinates drawn carefully beside the "X."

The envelope seemed to still have some weight to it, and John B reached in, pulling out a small, bulky object.

"Wait, there's something else in here." He lifted it, turning it in his hands. It was a tape recorder.

JJ's eyes widened. "What's that?"

"It's a tape recorder, dumbass," Kiara quipped, smirking as she leaned over to inspect it.

John B took a deep breath, then pressed a shaky finger to the play button. We all leaned in, the room hushed, and then his dad's voice, Big John, crackled through the speaker.

"Dear Bird," he started.

"Who's Bird?" JJ whispered, glancing at us, confused.

"That's what my dad used to call me," John B replied quietly, his face unreadable as he listened.

On the tape, Big John's voice continued. "I hate to say, 'I told you so,' but I told you so. And you doubted your old man. I suspect, at this moment, you're filled with guilt and self-loathing over our last fight, but don't kill yourself just yet, kid. I didn't expect to find the Merchant either."

John B was completely locked in, his expression softening even as his eyes grew glossy.

"You were probably right to call me out," Big John went on, his voice softening, "Wasn't exactly Father of the Decade. What can I say, kid? I could smell the barn... And hopefully, we're listening to this in our brand-new sugar shack down in Costa Rica, living off passive investments and pulling on permits."

"If not, and you find this for less-than-optimal reasons, well, that's what the map is for." There was the faint scratch of a pen on paper. "There she is, the wreck of the Merchant. If something happens to me, finish what I started. Go for the gold, kid. I love you, Bird, even if I didn't always act like it... I'll see you on the other side."

The tape clicked off. For a moment, no one moved. John B slowly lifted his head, his eyes shining as he fought to keep his emotions in check. He took a shaky breath, then abruptly stood, clutching the door frame as if grounding himself.

"Holy shit, he did it!" JJ's voice broke the silence, louder and bolder than ever. "Big John—he found the Merchant—he actually did it!"

"Can you... can you please?" Kiara murmured gently, resting a hand on John B's arm.

JJ's face fell slightly, his excitement dimming. "Sorry," he mumbled, dropping his gaze

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

THE DOCK WAS warm beneath us as we sprawled out under the late-afternoon sun, each lost in our own thoughts as Kiara strummed a soft melody on her ukulele.  I sat cross-legged, eyes on my phone, reading and re-reading Ashley's message. Each line made my stomach twist a little tighter.

Ashley had only done it because she was forced—Topper had blackmailed her, and she had to save herself. She'd sent Rafe over in the hurricane to check on me, to make sure I was safe, even if it was just to cover her own back. Rafe did it, apparently, until he got sick of it, deciding he was too disgusted by my part of the island to keep up the charade. The realisation stung, but I tried to brush it off. The thought that Rafe had only ever been kind because he was high that day felt like a sad sort of joke.

"How much was it again?" JJ asked, breaking the silence as he tossed another rock into the water, the stone skipping twice before vanishing with a soft splash.

"Four hundred mil," Pope replied leaning back on his elbows.

JJ perked up shifting to face. "All right, let's talk the split," he proposed, glancing around as if we were about to sign a contract. He whipped his gun out, holding it up proudly. "Now, before we say 'evenly,' may I remind you that I am the only one who can properly defend us from those groupers who were after us." He waved his gun with a cocky grin. "Protection? Not cheap, okay?"

I couldn't help but smirk. ''Do I need to remind you how you lost the gun when we needed it most? Not to mention how you nearly shot Pope last time?"

Pope nodded. "Yeah, and how you have zero training, JJ."

JJ shrugged with exaggerated confidence. "YouTube, bro! That's at least a five percent bump right there!"

Pope rolled his eyes, beginning to interject. "You haven't—"

"Any objections?" JJ interrupted, sweeping his gaze across the group. "Didn't think so."

"Yeah," Pope muttered, raising his eyebrows as if to say, Whatever you say, man.

With a gleeful grin, JJ turned to Pope. "So, what are you gonna do with your $800,000, Pope?"

Pope looked thoughtful, scratching his chin. "Pay for college in advance. And also, textbooks. Those things are expensive," he replied, sounding more serious than we expected.

I raised an eyebrow, sharing a look with Kiara as we both held back a chuckle.

JJ turned to Kie, smirking. "What about you, Kie?"

"Yeah," Pope chimed in, crossing his arms. "What does a socialist do when she's rich?"

Kiara shrugged casually. "Just wanna make a double album," she mused. "About OBX, the Pogues. You know, like Catch a Fire is about Kingston. Record it at Marley Studio, Peter Tosh producing."

"Peter Tosh is dead," Pope pointed out with a slight shake of his head.

"Peter Tosh is dead. I know," Kiara replied with a roll of her eyes, raising her beer in the air. "But the spirit of Peter Tosh will never die."

JJ leaned forward. "Actually, I know what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna get a big-ass house on Figure Eight and go full Kook," he announced.

Pope chuckled, clearly entertained. "You're gonna go full Kook?"

"Yup," JJ nodded, looking serious despite the smirk. "I'm gonna get a marble statue of myself, then I'm gonna get a koi pond. Put a bunch of those fish—"

Kiara shook her head, smirking. "I'm never visiting."

She turned to me then, her gaze warm. "What about you, Mimi?" she asked, her voice gentle.

I hesitated, running a hand through my blonde hair. ''I don't know... probably help my dad financially. Maybe buy a nice house, somewhere quiet and safe."

"That's it?" Kie tilted her head, studying me. "No dreams at all?"

A faint smile crept onto my face. "I'll dream once I've got the money. I'll let you know when it happens."

Kiara nodded, smiling as she raised her beer in solidarity.

"What about you, John B?" I asked, glancing over at him.

"To going full Kook," he answered with a grin, raising his beer in a toast.

After we clinked our bottles together, I pulled back, an uneasy feeling settling in my stomach. I mumbled something about needing to head out, standing up quickly as I grabbed my bag.

"You want a ride?" Kiara offered, looking at me with concern.

I shook my head. "Thanks, Kie, but I think I'll just walk. Clear my head."

Without waiting for more questions, I turned and walked down the dock, feeling their eyes on my back as I left. The truth was, I needed the quiet—the water, the sand under my feet, the time alone to sift through the things Ashley had told me, the things I still didn't know how to feel about.

By the time my house came into view, the sky was deepening into a soft purple, and I almost missed the figure sitting on the front steps. But as I got closer, I recognized Ashley, sitting hunched over, elbows on her knees, looking anxious and out of place against the chipped wood of my porch.

As I neared, her head lifted, eyes meeting mine, full of an apology I wasn't in the mood to hear. I kept my face neutral and tried to push past her to reach the door, but her hand shot out, grabbing my ankle.

''Please, Mavis,'' she whispered. Her fingers held on just firm enough to make me pause.

I looked down, sighing. ''Ashley, I don't know what you think you're doing here, but I really don't want to see you.''

Her face twisted, and to my surprise, her eyes filled with tears. ''It's Topper,'' she stammered, her voice cracking, ''he has my... my pictures. He threatened me, Mavis.''

I felt something shift. The frustration I'd been holding onto faltered. I took a step back, letting her see the hesitance in my expression. Then I finally opened the door and motioned for her to come inside. She followed, looking slightly relieved, and I gestured for her to sit on the couch.

She sank down, shoulders slumping as she wrung her hands. I stayed standing, crossing my arms, waiting for her to speak.

''I... I didn't mean for it to get this far,'' she began, staring down at her hands. ''I sent... I sent the picture to Kelce, my boyfriend, you know? And then somehow, Topper got a hold of his phone. He sent the photo to himself and then threatened to leak it if I didn't... if I didn't do what he said.''

My chest felt heavy. ''And that recording I sent? The one where you admitted to everything?''

Her voice shook as she explained, and she looked up at me. ''I stuck to his plan, like he told me to. I denied everything. Topper convinced everyone it was an AI deepfake or something. It was stupid, but... they believed him. At least, at first. But I knew it wouldn't last long... and today, he...'' She fumbled with her phone, hands trembling as she unlocked it. Then, looking down, she handed it to me.

I didn't want to look, but her shaky hands and downcast expression pulled me in. I glanced down, feeling my stomach drop as I saw her pictures plastered all over Twitter, her most private moments now a sickening display for everyone to see.

I quickly averted my gaze, clenching my fists, trying to swallow the unease clawing at my throat. Ashley's shoulders shook as she let out a muffled sob, burying her face in her hands. ''I don't know what to do now,'' she whispered, voice barely above a whisper.

I exhaled, the hurt from the rumors and everything she'd done still stinging. ''Look,'' I began, rubbing the bridge of my nose, ''I feel bad for you, Ashley, but this whole thing... it hurt. You sent out that video, the one where that guy almost kissed me, and now everyone's treating me not only like some thief because of Rafe's stupid lie, but also like a slut.''

She looked down, but didn't say anything.

I took a deep breath. ''But I'll help you. This is messed up, and you don't deserve this either. Just... let's figure something out.''

We spent the next hour huddled over her phone and my laptop, working quietly together as I taught her how to manipulate her photos, turning them into something unrecognisable. We altered her pictures, transforming her face, her clothes, her surroundings, even changing the color of her hair in some shots to prove the photo Topper posted was fake. It was the least I could do. Someone people will believe it, some won't. But at least it will clear out her name at least a little bit.

Then, for good measure, we pulled up some pictures of Topper and went to work on those too, altering one until it looked as if he was sending nude photos of himself to someone. I snickered a bit, satisfied with the result, and Ashley even managed a small, shaky laugh through her tears.

We posted the photos, captioning them with a snarky, ''It's crazy what AI can do these days!'' The tweet went live.

I closed the laptop, meeting her gaze. ''There's no excuse for this now, Ashley. I helped you, but I need you to leave.''

She gave me a small, grateful nod, wiping away the remnants of her tears. ''Thank you, Mavis,'' she murmured as she gathered her things and headed toward the door.

When she stepped outside, I shut the door behind her and leaned against it letting out a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding. 

words: 2222

A/N 

I don't want to be too harsh on Topper, but it's just a fic and he is a horrible person, so it suits him.