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[sample text]<co5|
(click: ?co5)[hi]
|hiddenText>[woah!! im so glad you unhid me!!]
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(click: ?c1)[(replace:?r1)[resptext]]
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$robotText[jshds!]
_assistantText[Ddsnjds.]
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((POV — Esme Ramsey.))
[(text-style:"italic")[//The Choux. Season 11, Day 1. Bottom of the 2nd.//]]<c1|
(click: ?c1)[There's a chill running through your veins.
You've had this feeling since the last election, every time you get near the ballpark. You lost the Flinch modification for one nobody could identify, not even the splorts commentators. It hasn't interfered with your play so far, but it's only the bottom of the second. Anything's possible.
[Especially in Blaseball.]<c1n5|
(click: ?c1n5)[You focus on the game. The Magic are up one, but it probably won't stay that way for long. You watch Howell get two foul balls. With two outs left, they finally swing and make contact. They make it to first base.
"Howell's on base?" Stu leans forward.
Simon looks up from zer phone with a grin. "Bringing it back!" They wave at Howell, who manages to give a wave in response.
You hear the cry of "TWO OUT RALLY!" in the stands as you take a step out of the dugout.
(text-colour:#a38bbb)[The chilling sensation creeps out from under your skin and overtakes you.]
[You're frozen in place.]<c2|
(click: ?c2)[....
$trench[....]
You suddenly have the
[sinking]<c3| (click: ?c3)[$trench[(i was reading a story. something about a town without a name. the details escape me a bit. gods, i)] you $trench[(can't feel my)] your $trench[(legs.)]
[feeling]<c4| (click: ?c4)[$trench[(anyway, there was a line that wouldn't leave my)] your $trench[(head.)]
[of]<c5| (click: ?c5)[$trench[(haven't stopped thinking about it all week.)]
[being]<c6| (click: ?c6)[$trench[("that is not dead which can eternal lie.)]
[watched.]<c7| (click: ?c7)[$trench[(and with strange aeons, even death may die." i can't stop thinking about it, you know, like, with what happened to Jaylen. i just—)]
[(text-style:"blur")[It's disorienting.]]<c8|
(click: ?c8)[Someone's speaking to you. Someone's talking to you through your mind. You try to remember if there's any telepaths on the Magic's roster right now, but your head is spinning, and you find you can't turn it to look.
$trench[(....Matteo? Are you there?)]
You know that voice. It's been a long time, but you know that voice.
[(Atlas?)]<c9|
(click: ?c9)[A player who replaced Sebastian (the first one) after they got incinerated. And then, after just 3 days, Atlas themself was replaced by Sebastian (the one who struck out a minute ago, who is watching you right now, maybe wondering if you're gonna get to the plate any time soon, but) you can't move your legs.
$trench[(ESME?)]
[$sim[Atlas Jonbois is Inhabiting Esme Ramsey!]]<c10|
(click: ?c10)[You see your hands move in front of your face. Howell is calling over from first base.
The game. Haunted or not, you still need to play the game.
$plane[(Okay, listen. You've gotta go bat now, are you up for it?)]
$trench[(Umm.)]
He takes a deep breath.
$trench[(Yeah. Yeah, I'm ready.)]
[$sim[Atlas Jonbois, batting for the Shoe Thieves.]]<c11|
(click: ?c11)[
[[You are Inhabited 77 more times that season.-> The Wheel of Fortune]]
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((Hey! I'm Firey/Korema, the author of this story. Welcome!
Haunted is a multi-part Twine fanfiction about Blaseball. The fanfiction aspect means that you'll mostly be doing reading. The Twine aspect means you'll have to click through things.
[Click text like this to move on. You can also press Tab and Enter to navigate using a keyboard.))]<c1|
(click: ?c1)[((The story is presented in a format similar to interactive fiction, but your choices do not change the outcome, and most links just lead to the next part of the fic. This is the original format of this fic, which I chose for immersion and to try out Twine. It probably isn't everyone's jam, so this whole thing will also be available on Archive of Our Own for people who prefer that format. I'll link it here. If I haven't linked it here yet, remind me!
[Continue.))]<c2|
(click: ?c2)[((The entire story features themes of: death, ghosts, possession, and loss/lack of control. There are also section-specific content warnings listed in the Table of Contents. If anything else should be tagged, let me know!
That's all for now. Are you ready for [[your first haunt?->Table of Contents]]))]](set: $ghost to (color:"red"), $trench to (color:purple), $plane to (align:"==>")+(box:"=XXXX")+(color:purple), $sim to (text-style:"bold","italic"))
((POV — Shannon Chamberlain.))
[(text-style:"italic")[//The Crabitat. Season 20, Day 31. Bottom of the 2nd.//]]<c1|
(click: ?c1)[You had been told it was quick and easy.
Nyx and the others who'd Inhabited since the Hall began to jumble up said it had only been for a little while, just an at-bat and maybe a //little// longer after that. That they left Kennedy Loser right afterwards.
You introduce yourself to Loser. Might as well. He seems accustomed to it all, but he's friendly. He starts to ask something as a player gets caught stealing a base.
That's the inning out. You start getting ready for the moment you get sent back.
[(text-style:"blur")[The world swims in front of your eyes.]]<c2|
(click: ?c2)[You feel yourself grow cold again, a familiar sensation, something you had grown used to in the Hall, to the point that the Inhabitation itself was probably the warmest you'd been since you died. You figure that this is it, that this must be what it feels like to get sent back after a Haunting, and you take one last look at the field.
You're staring for a while before you realize you're outside Loser. You wave your hand in front of your face.
It's not Loser's claw. It's your own hand. It's transparent, the same way everyone's form is in the Hall.
[But you're definitely not in the Hall, and you're definitely not in Kennedy Loser.]<c3|
(click: ?c3)[You follow Loser into the field. There's a pause.
"....Shannon?" He seems uncertain. He exchanges a glance with the modern Shoe Thief currently at bat.
And you're increasingly sure this has never happened before.
"Hey. Shit, uh. Quick question."
"Shoot."
<!--You try to keep your cool, but the realization is setting in. This isn't your League, this isn't your team, and, as friendly as this guy is, he's probably never heard of the Lobsters before you, considering Nyx didn't even talk to him sunself.
Your hands are shaking. You can't stop it. You can't //stop//.
He runs for a ball, because he can't stop, either.
And he comes back and you're still here and you know he doesn't know, you know from the way his eyestalks twitch at the sight of you still being here and still you can't stop. You have to ask.-->
[["How do I leave?" ->Season 20]]
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//Season 20.//
[The next game arrives, and neither of you have an answer.]<c4|
(click: ?c4)[Loser gets Inhabited again. You watch him carefully. Trying to figure out what went wrong with your own Inhabitation. The deceased player is in and out before you know it.
[Just like Nyx had said you'd be.]<c5|
(click: ?c5)["Erickson Hendricks," he tells you as he heads back to the dugout. "I sent a message with them. To....let your team know."
And here's a guy who barely knows you, asking the ghost borrowing his body if they can get a message down to a team he had never heard of before yesterday.
"....thanks." You smile. "Not sure how long I'm staying."
`----`
[Two weeks pass, and neither of you have an answer. ]<c6|
(click: ?c6)[You have, however, started to size up the thread connecting you to Ken right now.
You can only move away from him by about the length of a ballpark.
When he falls asleep, you tend to fall asleep as well, and you're almost sure it's automatic by now. You can tell when he's sleeping and when he's lying awake, [staring at the ceiling]<o2|.
(click: ?o2)["You should really go to sleep." You sit over the nightstand and watch him pretend.
"Trying to." Liar.
"You've checked your phone like 40 million times. Go to sleep."
[["Alright, alright." Lo and behold, he eventually does.->Season 20-]]
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](set: $ghost to (color:"red"), $trench to (color:purple), $plane to (align:"==>")+(box:"=XXXX")+(color:purple), $sim to (text-style:"bold","italic"))((POV — Abbott Wright.))
[//The Hall of Flame. Season 19 – Season 20 siesta.//]<c0o0|
(click: ?c0o0)[You haven't seen any of the Immortals for days. They've never been a hard team to spot — their Jerseys are bright even in the strange and impossible lighting of the Hall — but nobody has heard from any of them in a week. You and some of the others finally started searching for them yesterday with no luck, [[Agan]] has been hunting for them vigorously with just as little success, the Monitor hasn't said anything for at least the past two weeks, you've exhausted all the possible $ghost[futures] you were able to explore, and you're running out of options.
You're almost ready to give up when [you realize the environment has changed around you.]<c0o1|
(click: ?c0o1)[It's a deep blue, not the purple of the Hall you're used to. You hear unfamiliar voices somewhere in the distance. As you head in that direction, you keep finding more and more things that are //so, so off//. There's different patterns on the wall, there's different structures on the ceiling, there's //movement coming fast at you and—//
Someone runs through you, and you tumble over in surprise. "Oh gods, sorry!!" They turn around and hold out a hand.
[As you take it, you realize you've never seen them before.]<c0o2|
(click: ?c0o2)[Their long green hair reminds you a bit of Kaiden, and their voice reminds you of Pepper from the Cows. But the way their skin jumps, the way their whole being vibrates, the sheer energy they have, that's all unfamiliar.
"Who are you?"
"My name's Raúl!" He pulls you up. "Yours?"
["Abbott Wright."]<c0o3|
(click: ?c0o3)[You're trying to figure out the team on his jersey. Why does it feel like you've heard of it? There's no 'Dale' players in the Hall, at least none you've seen before today.
A low hum starts up as he speaks. "Don't think I've seen you here before. Are you new?"
//New??//
[All of a sudden, you remember where you've seen that jersey before.]<c0o4|
(click: ?c0o4)[$sim[The Kola Boar are incinerated by a Rogue Umpire. They are replaced by the Miami Dale.]
"You're from the replacement team?"
"The huh?"
"The Miami Dale."
A grin. "Yeah, I'm from the Dale! Not sure what you mean by replacement, though." He's looking at your jersey now. "What team are you from?"
"The Psychics."
"The Psychics?" He pauses. "Is that blasketball?"
Oh.
//Oh.//
[Your heart is racing, and so is your mind.]<c0o5|
(click: ?c0o5)[$ghost[The League went on.] For there to be a Dale player here who doesn't remember the Psychics, the Florida team must have outlasted yours by many years.
The League is still going on, and players are still getting incinerated.
It's so much to take in. You know you should run back, find Nneka or Cody or Agan or anyone.
[Instead, you stay.]<c0o51|
(click: ?c0o51)["No. Listen, the Psychics are—were—a team, we played a long time ago, I don't know how long, I—"
You're willing yourself to focus, because it's starting to come together in your head, a $ghost[future possibility] you had seen but couldn't check, that sat uncomfortably in the back of your mind till you set out to go find the Immortals yourself. You're willing yourself to focus, but when does that ever work? You lean against the wall, and it's not even the wall you've leaned on all these years, it's somewhere else, and you're somewhere else, and....
A deep breath. "Sorry."
"Hey, don't apologize, it's...."
"....?"
The low hum present throughout the conversation rises in pitch.
["....hang on."]<c0o6|
(click: ?c0o6)[His skin vibrates. "Do you know who the Alaskan Immortals are?"
//There it is.//
"Yeah, do you know //where// they are?"
Vigorous nodding. "They just showed up here a week or two ago, same way you did, and they were talking about an old League too."
"Can you show me?"
"Yeah!! Come on!" [You run to keep up as he starts hurrying down the Hall.]<c7|
(click: ?c7)[Raúl brings you to what looks like a library. The shelves run from floor to ceiling, stocked full of old volumes with dusty covers. There aren't many players here.
You find Crits sitting at a table with a notebook and pen. The Immortals captain looks up as you approach. "Abbott, right?" You nod.
"Geez, I was starting to think we were the only ones from our time here. There's a good joke about immortality in there somewhere." She laughs. "Are the rest of the Psychics...?"
Split off. Lost. Confused. Wherever this is.
["Not that I know of."]<c8|
(click: ?c8)[She writes something down. "Been trying to figure it out. What happened, exactly. Met a player named Nora on the Crabs—" she nods vaguely in their direction. "—who's been explaining what she and some other players have come up with."
You look over. You're pretty sure you've never seen Nora in your life. (Or unlife.)
"The Crabs are here too?"
"Not our Crabs. Modern ones." She starts drawing up a table. "Still in Baltimore. Apparently they killed the—"
"Crits!" Another Immortals player runs in. "We found Vidalia."
"Oh, thank //gods//!" She gets up from her seat. "Gimme one sec. We've been tryna find Vida for a while."
You watch her leave. Raúl is talking to the Crabs player Crits had pointed out.
"....memory thing. That's what Combs and I have been thinking." She shows Raúl something in a book. "Most of it's redacted, but the team that showed up — the Immortals — they've got a passage showing right here, and we think the Fans can see that."
She turns the page. "So, right now, the going theory is that this old Hall that they've been talking about, that used to be the main Hall, but now it's the Hall for forgotten players, forgotten teams. It's a second death."
[A second death.]<c9|
(click: ?c9)[The words tumble around your head.
She closes the book. "We don't get forgotten like that because of—"
"—the fans that followed the team, the Hall board, the tributes."
"Bingo."
Raúl nods. "Makes sense. So, is Abbott in any of these?"
Nora shrugs. "I'd have to take another look, but I don't think I've seen them in there. Nor their team."
Your head is spinning. You sit down.
You died a second death, but you got mixed up, and now you're here, and nobody knows why. You're in a new part of the Hall now, and everyone seems to have gotten settled in but you.
[[A week later, you find yourself transported again. -> KLoNG]]
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(text-style:"italic")[//The Cookout. Season 20, Day 1. Top of the 6th.//]<c1|
(click: ?c1)[[....]<c2|
(click: ?c2)[[....]<c3|
(click: ?c3)[This isn't the Hall.
This is neither the soft purple you've known for years nor the deep blue you discovered last week. This is neither a hallway nor a room nor any other facet of the Hall of Flame. This is a dugout.
[This is a ballpark.]<c4|
(click: ?c4)[$plane[(Hey. What's your name?)]
The voice startles you. You feel something twitch on your head (not your head).
$trench[(My. Name.)]
$plane[(If you wanna give it. Don't need one.)] A pause. $plane[(Shoot, forgot to introduce //myself//. I'm Ken Loser. You're Inhabiting right now.)]
You shake your head (not your head). The feeling of gravity is too much right now.
$trench[(Um. Abbott Wright.)]
You're still squinting at the sunlight. This is real.
[This is real.]<c5|
(click: ?c5)[You clutch the bat in your (borrowed) hand. (Claw.)
You don't want to play. Someone's telling you to go out, to bat. That whoever you are, you've gotta step up to the plate now. Still, you stand blinking in the light like a bear that's just left its cave. You feel the weight of a solid body, the way its skin and bones and claws and chitin move. You don't want to be here. You don't want to play.
[You don't want to play.]<c5o1|
(click: ?c5o1)[You take a deep breath. $trench[(What team is this?)]
$plane[(The Baltimore Crabs. We're playing the Fridays. It's Season 20, Day 1, top of the sixth.)] He can tell that you're disoriented, that it's too much. He's trying to help you out. Give you a sense of setting, time and place. He's trying to help you out so you can go bat. You get the feeling he's done this many times before.
[You stand still.]<c6|
(click: ?c6)[$trench[(The Crabs I knew got incinerated.)] Keep the topic off the at-bat.
$plane[(You're an Alternate, then? What team?)]
To Ken's credit, he's super patient. To his teammate's credit, they are not. You hold up a claw in what you hope is recognizable as a "wait" gesture, and lean against the side of the dugout.
$trench[(Psychics. Oregon Psychics. I'm not an Alternate. The League was incinerated.)]
You look on at the field. The pitcher is squinting, trying to make out what's going on. An umpire is heading over. [You're running out of time.]<c6o5|
(click: ?c6o5)[$trench[(I don't want to play.)]
There's a sadness to his response.
$plane[(I really wish I could give you that.)]....
You head out of the dugout. $trench[(....I know.)]
[You step up to the plate.]<c7|
(click: ?c7)[$sim[Abbott Wright, batting for the Baltimore Crabs.]
The last time you were up to bat was decades ago. The last time you were up to bat was the last day of the last season. The last time you were up to bat was the last day you had to last to outlast the Instability. The last time—
The ball's headed at you. You [swing]<c8| (click: ?c8)[and you miss. Terribly. You haven't played Blaseball in so long. You don't want to play. You don't want to be here, you'd rather be back in the Hall, but Blaseball is the only way to be alive right now. You [swing]<c9| (click: ?c9)[and you miss. Your teammates used to joke that you did best at the start of the season, that you were an early bird who didn't like the late-season parties. Half of that was true. You didn't like the end of the season, you didn't like the way the Fans looked at you all stats and numbers, trying to figure out how to bend you to their Will, boost this and swap that, and as you approached the end of the season it was worse and worse and maybe you caved under the pressure, maybe that was why you Underperformed in that latter part of the season, or maybe it was some subconscious thing, maybe it was on purpose by the purposes of some tucked-away corner of your brain, maybe it was to spite them. Maybe the reason you're Underperforming right now is to spite the gods for bringing you back here, putting you back on the stage, maybe it's on purpose, or maybe you just don't remember how to play the game. You [swing]<c10| (click: ?c10)[and you make contact this time. You start running, your feet hitting the floor of the wrong ballpark at the wrong angles with the wrong gaps between, and a player on the other team gets the out and you return to the dugout, and you sit down, and you fall down, and before you can even catch your breath [the Hall greets you once again.]<c11|
(click: ?c11)[....
....
Raúl helps you up. "How'd it go?"
You feel dizzy. "The thing that just happened?"
"Yeah, the Inhabitation."
You rub your forehead. [["I didn't want to play." ->Hall Pass]]
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](align:"=><=")[[(Parker Macmillan.)]<c0o5|
[Firewalker,]<c1|
[Failed sun(son),]<c2|
[Herald of flame,]<c3|
[Fan favorite,]<c4|
[Vaulted,]<c5|
[[Preserved. -> Season 20.]]]
`----`
[]<r1|
(click: ?c0o5)[(replace: ?r1)[(The first.)]]
(click: ?c1)[(replace: ?r1)[across the field
drawing lines in the grass
running back home
but instead of the smell of victory
it leaves a bitter taste in people's mouths.]]
(click: ?c2)[(replace: ?r1)[was he?
do you fail when you hurt everything you touch
or do you fail when you don't do anything?
do you fail when you fall from grace?
or do you fail when there was never any to begin with?
he was definitely good at burning.]]
(click: ?c3)[(replace: ?r1)[there to start the chain of events
and leave before the fire came.
he knew what happened
but he didn't have to face it.
would you rather he have had to watch it?
your team burning to the ground
your stadium left empty
or is death a private thing
to be kept between you,
your team,
the Gods,
and millions upon millions of Fans?]]
(click: ?c4)[(replace: ?r1)[why?]]
(click: ?c5)[(replace: ?r1)[locking away memories
on dusty shelves
remembering worse times
remembering better times
forgetting
not forgetting
wishing you could
glad that you don't.]](set: $ghost to (color:"red"), $trench to (color:purple), $plane to (align:"==>")+(box:"=XXXX")+(color:purple), $sim to (text-style:"bold","italic"), $binky to (text-color:"#7591FF")+(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXX="), $mini to (align:"<==")+(box: "XXXXXXXXX="))
//(Season 21.)//
[Ken reminds you of a lot of your teammates.]<c1|
(click: ?c1)[Visually, he reminds you of your younger brother. [Crabs and lobsters have a lot in common]<c2|, and Brynn had a lot of the same lobster features that Kennedy has but in crab form — the eyestalks and the claws, mostly, but their faces are friendly in the same way.
$mini[(click: ?c2)["We didn't kill a //god//, if that's what you're asking." You shrug. "Louisville just has that effect on people." You close your eyes. He really does look a lot like Brynn.
"Huh."
You open one eye. "Wait." You squint at him. "Have you //never// been to Louisville??"
"Uh, don't think so!" He laughs.
"What??" You grab his hand. It phases through. "Come on, you gotta go."
He stares at you for a moment before giving in with a smile. "Alright, tell you what. Over the offseason, we'll do it."
You pump a fist.]]
[In his leadership role he reminds you of Nyx]<c3|, with his self-sacrifice for teammates. Nyx, too, would spend hours awake at night over bad election outcomes. Nyx would worry about sun's teammates even in the offseason, too. Nyx was always a lot quieter than Ken is, though.
$mini[(click: ?c3)["Kennedy Loser, if you don't get your ass to sleep right now, I am coming in there."
"Please don't." He clutches his phone. "I was just letting Kaz know we're here for xem. Xe's been on three different teams in the last three seasons, and—"
"And that sucks, but you can't sacrifice yourself to your team! You've barely gotten four hours a night like this!"
"Shannon, I don't need—"
You look at him head-on. "I've seen plenty of sacrifices in my time, Ken; I will //not// let you be one of them."
He puts it down. "This isn't about what happened in Prehistory."
You falter, because you were seeing someone else for a moment. You were seeing Nyx, with eyes burnt out like supernovae, dim lights like solar eclipses. Like five years of sun's life spent being a captain before a player, a player before a person.
It's the first real argument you've had since you started Inhabiting.]]
When he plays, he reminds you of Emilia. An experienced player with a hand ][(Agan Espinoza.)]<c1|
[Friend,]<c2|
[Artist,]<c3|
[Fire protector,]<c4|
[[Martyr.->Unknown]]
`----`
[]<r1|
(click: ?c1)[(replace: ?r1)[(a savior.)]]
(click: ?c2)[(replace: ?r1)[to so many
and to you, too
when your team burned
just a day from survival
keeping you company
helping you find the others
in the winding purple maze.
even in death,
and in so many years,
he has never once run out of creativity.]]
(click: ?c3)[(replace: ?r1)[both in and out of splorts.
pastel and pencils
paper and pen
sprawling murals
sketches on walls
bringing life everywhere
even in death.]]
(click: ?c4)[(replace: ?r1)[a player who can protect their //teammates// from incinerations.
the gods find humor in everything.
even death.
especially death.]]FOR OLD DRAFTS(set: $ghost to (color:"red"), $trench to (color:purple), $plane to (align:"==>")+(box:"=XXXX")+(color:purple), $sim to (text-style:"bold","italic"))
$plane[(Yeah. The fifth, actually. He's the commissioner of—)]
$trench[(The fifth??)]
$plane[(Parker III got incinerated, Parker IIII was percolated. Don't know anything about Parker II or Parker I.)]
You switch the channel.
$plane[(....did you know Parker I?)]
$trench[[[(....never been a fan.)-> Season 21]]](set: $ghost to (color:"red"), $trench to (color:purple), $plane to (align:"==>")+(box:"=XXXX")+(color:purple), $sim to (text-style:"bold","italic"))
[Five weeks pass, and neither of you have an answer.]<c6o1|
(click: ?c6o1)["What're you cooking?" You hover around Ken's shoulder.
"Chicken." He grabs a plate.
"Gods, I could go for that."
It's meant as a joke.
Instead of laughing, though, Ken asks if you want to try it.
You stare for a moment, but then you take him up on it, Inhabiting him directly.
It's the best food you've had in years. It's also the only food you've had in years. You had somewhat forgotten what food tasted like.
`----`
[Six weeks pass, and neither of you have an answer.]<c6o1o1|
(click: ?c6o1o1)["Seen peanuts bat better than that!"
"She can't hear you."
You hover closer, as if to step inside. "Wanna help me with that?"
He laughs. "Come on. She just got back from—"
$sim[Kichiro Guerra hit a ground out to Zeruel Kramer.]
You watch them head back to the dugout. "Yeah, you //walk// back!"
Ken twitches an eyestalk. "You got a lot to say about the Mills, huh?"
The Millennials were able to keep the Lobsters effectively out of the postseason in your time. And then they outlasted your team.
It's a bit more satisfying than you'd like to admit, seeing the Crabs beat them today.
"Old rivalry."
`----`
[Eight weeks pass, and neither of you have an answer.]<c6o3|
(click: ?c6o3)["Ken, what's wrong? It's practically midnight."
He's looking through texts on his phone. "Pedro again. He needs a break."
"//You// need a break. Put it down, he can wait one more night."
"Shannon, th—"
"I'm coming in there," you warn.
He puts it down. "Alright, alright."
`----`
[Ten weeks pass.]<c7|
(click: ?c7)[[Let's be real. Neither of you are going to get an answer.]<c8|
(click: ?c8)[The TV is on by the kitchen, but it's switched to the news. You haven't really been able to follow the news that well when it's on, even as Ken explains it. It doesn't really look like he's paying attention, either, so you start Inhabiting him to change the channel.
"....and are demanding *immediate* legal recourse. Parker Macmillan could not be reached for comment."
You stop cold.
([[Parker Macmillan?-> Parker]])
$plane[(Yeah. The fifth, actually. He's the commissioner of—)]
$trench[(The fifth??)]
$plane[(Parker III got incinerated, Parker IIII was percolated. Don't know anything about Parker II or Parker I.)]
You switch the channel.
$plane[(....did you know Parker I?)]
[[(....never been a fan.)-> Season 21]]
]
]
]
]
](set: $ghost to (color:"red"), $trench to (color:purple), $plane to (align:"==>")+(box:"=XXXX")+(color:purple), $sim to (text-style:"bold","italic"), $binky to (text-color:"#7591FF")+(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXX="))
//The Hall of Flame. Season 20 – Season 21 Siesta.//
[You and Raúl trade stories.]<c1|
(click: ?c1)[The Ultra League, The Internet League. The //modern// Internet League.
You're sitting in one of the more populated areas of the Hall, and a few players you don't recognize (often from teams you don't recognize) pass by and sit down here and there.
"We got incinerated as a team. That's how it happened. Parker Macmillan, the Firewalker, he would make entire teams Unstable at a time."
Someone passes by and gives Raúl a wave. He waves back.
["So, the Firewalker, how did he....do that?"]<c2|
(click: ?c2)["He would go to a new team, and, when he did, the team he left behind would become Unstable, and when that team got incinerated, another team would go Unstable, too." You take a deep breath. "The Firewalker left for a new team every nine days. By the end of the Season, the League was practically unrecognizable."
You stare at the wall. "The Psychics never had Parker on our team. Probably for the better, for him. We got Instability chained to us when the Cows got incinerated." You sigh. "We made it till the last day of the Season, and then....at the last possible moment, we got incinerated."
He's quiet for a moment.
"Wow."
"Yeah." You kick your foot a bit. A group of players — Millennials, from the looks of it — converses at a table nearby. They're talking about the last Season in the living world, how their team is doing back in the Immaterial Plane.
["And you? If I can ask."]<c3|
(click: ?c3)[Raúl nods. "Yeah. We didn't have any team-wide threats or anything, but the Fans wimdied—"
"Wimdied?"
He laughs. "It's, uh, it's a thing the Fans came up with. Means when they win a Blessing for the team with a really small percentage of the votes." He looks over at the Millennials at the other table. "The Dale had a pretty small Fanbase as far as Fanbases went. So lots of the things we got were wimdies on their end." He taps his fingers on the table.
"They wimdied us a bat called the Iffey Jr. It was supposed to let me protect teammates from incinerations, but—"
"Not yourself."
Raúl laughs. "You saw that loophole a lot quicker than we did."
You shake your head. ["It's happened before."]<c4|
(click: ?c4)[He stops. "In the Ultra League?"
You nod. "Was it a sawed-off bat, hard to carry—"
"Yeah."
"Agan Espinoza." You close your eyes. "Friend of mine. Saved her whole team from incineration with that bat by getting incinerated xirself."
He looks pained. "It's happened before. It could happen again."
["It never stops."]<c5|
(click: ?c5)[Raúl sighs. He shifts in his seat. "Qais was always worried about it, you know? The chance that there might be a catch."
"There's always a catch."
An empty laugh. "That's what I get for hubris."
You watch the Millennials talk, socialize, catch up. Players who already knew each other before their incineration, but who died at different times, still linked through the Seasons by the common thread of their Team.
Right now, you're separated from your Team. The Immortals, Raúl, and a couple players he's introduced you to are the only others you know in this part of the Hall.
[You're not alone. But you miss your teammates.]<c6|
(click: ?c6)[`----`
//The Hall of Flame. Season 21, Day 1.//
You've gotten to know Raúl's mannerisms. The way he grins with his whole face, even though you can never see his eyes. The way he jumps when he's startled, and his skin spikes up like the fur of a cat. The ever-present hum in his voice. He tells you he's a sound wave, and you realize it's literal. There's a static to his voice when he's sad, there's a ring to it when he's excited.
Maybe the reason you've stuck with him so long is that you don't know where else to go. Raúl was the first person you met here. You have questions — so many questions — for a League so full of unfamiliarity and so devoid of answers.
[He's patient.]<c6o3|
(click: ?c6o3)[When you found the Immortals, you tried to stick with them for a while, but they largely split up to explore the new Hall. A team is hardly a monolith, though players tend to stick to the people they knew in living when they persist into death.
You stick around with Raúl. He, in turn, often watches games with other Dale players. The time you spend talking between games is full of laughter, old stories, joy, old stories, regret, old stories, sorrow, old stories.
You have so many stories.
[You have so many stories.]<c6o5|
(click: ?c6o5)[`----`
//The Hall of Flame. Season 21 Earlsiesta.//
The lights go out.
$binky[break time
i need a snack]
The panels of the floor gain a glassy transparency. The towering form of the Monitor is visible through the floor as it swims through the Trench. The Hall is bathed with bioluminescence. It stares inside.
You step closer to Raúl. [It's a lot clearer here than it was in the old Hall.]<c7|
(click: ?c7)[The Monitor stops for a moment.
$binky[oh hey
you guys are getting along
old and new
that's good]
It swivels around the Hall. The walls and ceiling become transparent as it passes by, and you see the endless ocean beyond the Hall, the impossible creatures of the Trench itself blinking and staring.
It shudders and stops again.
$binky[wait
that's what's different
have you guys seen agan?]
You shake your head. Raúl shrugs.
$binky[didn't think so
uh
maybe put together a visitor's guide or something
might start getting crowded in here
the fans have been doing some reading]
With that, the creature drops past the level of the floors, and [the inside of the Hall lights up once again.]<c8|
(click: ?c8)[`----`
//The Hall of Flame. Season 21, Day 28.//
A $ghost[vision] echoes in your head, and you know where to find them.
She's sitting by a wall, sketching something out along the part where it meets a window into the abyss.
"Agan?"
He turns around. "Abbott?"
A hug and a quiet moment. [Neither of you know what to say, and you don't need to say anything.]<c9|
(click: ?c9)[You sit down next to them. "How are you doing?"
Xe shrugs. "Think I'm lost."
"Yeah. This is....a different Hall." You gaze out of the window. An anglerfish stares back from the Trench. "I think Raúl or Nora could explain it better. How are the Psychics?"
She darkens the lines along the top of the drawing. "They were looking for you for a while. One of them asked this guy, uh, Kennedy Loser?" More sketch lines in the middle. "And he said you had Inhabited him. So we knew you weren't double-dead or anything." They look out the window. "The Psychics knew you were still around, though, y'know. It was just a matter of....finding you." He looks up. "Have you heard from the Monitor lately?"
"Yesterday." You put a hand against the glass. "Said it was gonna start getting [[crowded->Crowded]]."
]
]
]
]
]
]
]
]
]
]
](set: $ghost to (color:"red"), $trench to (color:purple), $plane to (align:"==>")+(box:"=XXXX")+(color:purple), $sim to (text-style:"bold","italic"))
- realizing she can channel ghosts, etc
- deciding to let it happen
- gets increasingly stressful tho
- hhhhh i gotta write this eventually(set: $ghost to (color:"red"), $trench to (color:purple), $plane to (align:"==>")+(box:"=XXXX")+(color:purple), $sim to (text-style:"bold","italic"), $binky to (text-color:"#7591FF")+(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXX="))
[//The Hall of Flame. Season 21, Day 43.//]<c0|
(click: ?c0)[You've found that the modern Hall is just big enough to get lost in, but just small enough to always find your way back.
It's comforting. You never run out of things to do. Just when you fear you're about to run out of supplies, you stumble upon the room you first got them from.
"You been working on something?" Raúl leans over your shoulder.
"A little." You show him your creation — a plush rabbit, a creation of yarn and buttons and stuffing just halfway to completion. You smile. "Agan helped me get the supplies."
Raúl grins. "I could practically hug this guy."
"Not yet!" You pull the rabbit closer. "Still not done, she'll just fall apart."
He puts a hand to his heart. "I'm falling apart looking at her."
You laugh.
It's comforting — it's always comforting — to have something to do. To forget for a moment the reason you're all here. To forget for a moment that every new person that comes in that isn't from a team you know is someone who's being mourned at that very second. Some days you'll talk over it, some days you'll escape it by finding some quiet corner of the Hall to sit still and watch the Trench from.
But this, this process of creating things, finding the power your hands still wield, long after they've held a bat or slid into a glove or caught a ball or gotten an out, this isn't an escape. [It's a source of joy.]<c1|
(click: ?c1)[`----`
//The Hall of Flame. Season 21, Day 50.//
A quiet day. Raúl watches the ongoing games while Agan works at carving a block of wood. You find yourself looking at faint glimpses of future possibilities. ([$ghost[(cycling-link: "the hall split again", "agan revived", "the league in flames again","fish?", "the psychics make it over")]]<o1|)
Agan interrupts any further explorations on it. "Alright. Something's been bugging me." You look up. They tilt their hand to get a deeper cut into their piece.
"What's that?" Raúl glances over.
"What happened to the bat?"
"The Iffey Jr?"
"Yeah."
Raúl shrugs. "They Preserved it after I died."
"Oh." Xe stares at the piece as though trying to bore a hole in it with her mind.
"Yeah." He holds his hands together as if he were wielding the bat right now.
Agan drives a large cut into the wood. "They said they'd Preserve it last time, too." he says quietly. "It's gonna happen again."
Raúl sighs. ["Ya tú sabes."]<c2|
(click: ?c2)[`----`
//The Hall of Flame. Season 21, Day 82.//
The Hall goes dark once again. The Monitor swims beneath the floor.
$binky[hey
all hands on deck
got a lot of players coming in]
You hear footsteps.
$binky[can't stay long
boss is kinda mad right now
lots of fish
don't think she likes that
i'm not complaining]
The Monitor dives out of sight as the source of the footsteps rounds the corner.
Abner Pothos stops in its tracks. "Hall get a fresh coat of paint?" It glances down at where the Monitor was. There's no response. It snorts.
Several more players filter in soon afterwards, all from the Fireballs and the [Crabs. ]<c3|
(click: ?c3)[`----`
//The Hall of Flame. Season 21, Day 85.//
"Hey, welcome to the Hall." Nora greets Tamsie as they cautiously poke their head into the library. "You're a Crab too?"
"Um. Yeah. Hi!" They wave. "I, uh, don't think we've met? Did you get incinerated before the big one?"
She looks at their jersey, then at you.
"After. I'm not from the same Crabs as you."
Their ears twitch as they step inside. "Uh, what other Crabs //are// there, exactly??"
You hold up two fingers. "Two that we know of. Nora's from the modern team. Right now, all we know is that...."
[This becomes a common exchange.]<c4|
(click: ?c4)[`----`
//The Hall of Flame. Season 21, Day 91.//
$ghost[Visions of the future, increasingly clear-cut.]
([$ghost[(cycling-link: "You look.", "Standing by the waves of an unfamiliar city, you hear the ocean call for you to explore, to look upon it in all its glory, all its ruin.","Jaylen Hotdogfingers, a pitcher you've known only from stories told in the Hall, people caught by her legendary pitches. Maybe a bit more legendary now, as she gets taken for a permanent collection.","You cross paths with Parker Macmillan. You start to say something, but eventually you look away, and he does, too.")]]<o0o1|)
When the future is shattered into so many clear pieces, when each one could be its own gateway to its own universe, its own plane, its own galaxy, that's when you know something big is going to happen soon.
It doesn't, for a while. [[That doesn't keep it from tugging at the corners of your mind on quiet days. ->Trench Rising]]
]
]
]
]
](set: $ghost to (color:"red"), $trench to (color:purple), $plane to (align:"==>")+(box:"=XXXX")+(color:purple), $sim to (text-style:"bold","italic"), $binky to (text-color:"#7591FF")+(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXX="), $mini to (align:"<==")+(box: "XXXXXXXXX="))
[//The Hall of Flame. Season 22, Day 1 – Day 99.//]<c1|
(click: ?c1)[By the start of the Season, the Truckers and the Squirrels have entered the new hall. By the end, the Queens, Cows, and Excavators have joined them. You've fallen into a rhythm with it.
[1. Introduce yourself, ask about their name and team.]<o1|
(click: ?o1)[$mini["Tiera Wigdoubt, Laredo Excavators. Xe/xer."
Nora looks over. "Laredo?"
The player nods. "Texas." Xe looks down. "Shadows when the incineration happened. As though it makes any difference. I was on the lineup till the week before."
Tiera glances at the wall. There's a mural painted there, the product of two weeks of collaboration between Agan and the Jazz Hands. It's a musical staff in vibrant rainbow colors, with bats and blaseballs and gloves and caps scattered throughout.
Xe smiles as xe runs xer hand against the painting. "I'm guessing Agan's here?"]
]
[2. Answer any questions they have about the modern league.]<o2|
(click: ?o2)[$mini[Agan stares at the TV. "Alright. Okay. Listen. Raúl, I really wanna be excited about this with you. But I don't get how this works." They glance over at him.
"Okay, so." Raúl points up. "The Overbracket's the normal bracket. You gotta win enough games to make the playoffs, and then win enough playoffs to win the Overbracket championship."
He points down. "The //Underbracket// is the opposite, but it runs at the same time. Lose enough games to make the Underbracket playoffs, and then lose enough of those to un-lose the Underbracket championship."
Agan blinks. "So, the goal is to lose the worst out of everyone in the whole League."
Raúl grins. "Fun, right?"
$sim[Clare Ballard II entered the Tunnels...
Clare Ballard II stole a Run from the Dale!]
There's chanting and cheers from the Dale players present.
There's still a lot of things in this League you don't understand. This is definitely one of them.]]
[3. Help them find their friends and teammates.]<o3|
(click: ?o3)[$mini[Most of the players that arrive in the new Hall find themselves gravitating towards their old teammates, and the new teams that sprung forth after their incineration.
Your teammates still haven't gotten here yet. You know they will, with $ghost[a million visions of the whowhatwherewhen drumming dimly at your mind]. It's getting closer, $ghost[and the visions, clearer.]
You've been hanging out with Raúl and Agan most days, though sometimes Nora will ask you for help with new arrivals. You've gotten to know most of the modern teams' jerseys by now, though occasionally something will surprise you. (You mistook a modern player for an Immortal last week. Turned out he was a Hall Star, the only one of them not to be Released.)
Agan's another outlier. Xir whole team lived on without her. There's no one place for them to go. In the old hall, he would mostly spend time with the Immortals or the Psychics. And in so many years, they knew your team like the back of their hand, like the dugout of the Glallery, like the numbers on the Artists' jerseys.
These days, she splits time between you and Raúl, the Immortals, and the Canada Moist Talkers, the ultimate successor of the former Artists. They've welcomed xir with open arms, and xe follows the living team's games on the TV when they're live.]
[Agan continues to paint the walls, but creates guides and arrows on them too now.]<c2o5|
(click: ?c2o5)[`----`
//The Hall of Flame. Season 22 – Season 23 Siesta.//
You find your teammates.
Nneka, gods bless her, she was the first to come to the modern Hall, to run up to you, to squeeze you tightly, to grin and announce that she had found you. A telepathic conversation, asking where you've been, if you've Inhabited yet, how it went if you did. You tell her about Raúl, about the Inhabitations, about the modern Hall.
Cody came next, and hir first reaction was to spend the whole day staring out at the improved view of the Trench. You sat with hir that day, just watching the creatures go by, ammonites and anomalocaris and creatures with no name, creatures not described in any textbook by any professor of any discipline, creatures that nonetheless lay there in all their impossibility and glory.
Dax and Salem, Ray and Paige, suddenly a flood of your teammates coming in, and you try to catch them all up, [knowing fully well it'd be impossible to do.]<c3|
(click: ?c3)[`----`
//The Hall of Flame. Season 23, Day 1.//
Raúl stares at the election announcements on the TV. "That's...." Something's wrong. His skin is jumping. His voice is static.
You look up to see a long list of blessings on-screen. You start reading through them and their descriptions.
Raúl doesn't say anything for a whole minute.
Finally, he speaks. "Agan, ven acá." He doesn't take his eyes off of the screen.
Agan gets up and heads over. "¿Qué?"
Raúl points at the middle of the left column. You notice it at the same time Agan does.
[$sim[Season 7: The Iffey Jr.]]<c6o5|
(click: ?c6o5)[They're both sitting in complete silence. You're not sure if you should say something. You don't know what you would even say.
"They're doing it again. They're making a martyr out of someone else."
"Fuck." Agan grits his teeth. ["//Fuck.//"]<c6o6|
(click: ?c6o6)[`----`
//The Hall of Flame. Season 23, Day 14.//
Raúl's quiet today.
You sit with him for a while. Shoulders pressed, the Trench swimming around your vision, fresh paint on the wall. His skin is jumping with static and noise.
"It's always someone, huh?"
You look over. "Huh?"
He closes his hand into a fist. "When I died. They had to get someone to fill my spot. They pulled my brother." His grip tightens. "Riley's still out there. They're pitching right now."
You follow his gaze as he looks up at a screen nearby. The Sunbeams are beating the Jazz Hands 2-1. The Jazz Hands' pitcher looks unfazed, fiery hair billowing out, bringing light even under the Solar Eclipse.
[Still, the careful anger in the way they watch the umpires doesn't escape your notice.]<c6o7|
(click: ?c6o7)[Raúl unclenches his hand. "And now the Iffey's up for grabs again, and it's just another day, y'know?" You feel the buzzing edge in his voice. "Like, what's another martyr in Blaseball, y'know? What's one more life?" He sighs. "....I don't really have a point, I guess. I signed up for this, I //wanted// to play, I...." He trails off.
There's a long silence.
[You wrap your arms around him. He smiles and leans into it.]<c4|
(click: ?c4)[`----`
//The Hall of Flame. Season 23, Earlsiesta.//
$binky[hey
uh
been busy
two jobs
sorry about that
should have told you about this sooner
uh]
The Hall goes quiet. Even in the more popular areas of the Hall, nobody would ever think to speak over the Monitor.
$binky[boss put me in a bit of a spot
says she wants all the players with a specific mod
to go play in some kind of exhibition match
thing is
that includes some of you guys]
A commotion starts up all around the Hall. Agan begins talking to some of the Moist Talkers in a hushed whisper.
$binky[i know a lot of you guys havent played in a while
this wasnt my idea
you guys know i uh]
[It trails off.]<c4o1|
(click: ?c4o1)[$binky[i'm gonna just
read off the list
okay
uh
let's see
alphabetical order]
The floor turns clear as it passes underfoot.
$binky[Hewitt Best, Kansas City Breath Mints
Sutton Bishop, Hellmouth Sunbeams
Rosales Darkness, Wyoming Dolphins
Agan Espinoza, Canada Artists]
Agan doesn't respond at first. One of the Moist Talkers asks xer something, and he nods.
$binky[Jada Frederick, Maryland Squirrels
Tillman Henderson, Charleston Shoe Thieves
James Nolan, Charleston Shoe Thieves
the uh, the old ones
Gunther O'Brian, Charleston Shoe Thieves
new ones
Gerund Pantheocide, Tokyo Lift
Sosa Peperomioides, Carolina Queens
Sutton Picklestein, Yellowstone Magic
Abner Pothos, Antarctic Fireballs
Ronan Vargas, San Diego Saltines]
$ghost[You hear it in your mind the moment before it happens.]
(size: 1.5)[[$binky[Abbott Wright, Oregon Psychics] ]<c5|]
(size: 2)[[(click: ?c5)[Abbott Wright, Oregon Psychics.] ]<c6|]
(size: 3)[[(click: ?c6)[Abbott Wright, Oregon Psychics.] ]<c7|]
(click: ?c7)[Abbott Wright, packing your stuff. You don't have much, and you're not sure how much you'll even be able to bring with you to the Immaterial Plane. You've got your bag, your bat, a glove, a photo with your teammates, friendship bracelets you made with Agan and Raúl. It's not much, but [you hope beyond hope it'll make it through the Immateria.]<c8|
(click: ?c8)[Abbott Wright, telling your teammates goodbye. You barely got enough time to talk to Cody or Nneka or anyone about all the things that had happened, you barely had time to welcome them to the new Hall. You know they'll figure it out — Nneka and Cody in particular have much stronger psychic abilities than you — but [you only wish you could have been there when they did.]<c9|
(click: ?c9)[Abbott Wright, having one last hug with Raúl. Filled with static and distortion and tears, the hum of the sound wave so low you can hardly hear it. You want to say you'll see him soon, but you know better than to make promises. So instead you tell him you'll say hi to Caleb and Beck for him. He smiles at that. ["Thanks. Be safe, yeah?"]<c10|
(click: ?c10)[At the end of the Season, the Monitor gathers you all up.
[[You step out into the Immaterial Plane.->Preparations]]
]
]
]
]
]
]
]
]
]
]
]
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](set: $ghost to (color:"red"), $trench to (color:purple), $plane to (align:"==>")+(box:"=XXXX")+(color:purple), $sim to (text-style:"bold","italic"), $binky to (text-color:"#7591FF")+(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXX="), $mini to (align:"<==")+(box: "XXXXXXXXX="))
//(your senses are flooded
with the chilling realization
of being alive
your lungs taking in oxygen
your blood pumping
you check your pulse
and notice someone nearby doing so as well
you feel ground under your feet
you smell the stench of burnt flesh
it's all you can do to wonder
if that smell is coming from you
it's a bit too much
it's a bit too much//
[//it's a bit too much)//]<c1|
(click: ?c1)[You get five days, you're told.
Five days to get to know the others on the team. Five days to get settled in. Five days before the Semi-Centennial starts.
[You aren't told what'll happen after that.]<c2|
(click: ?c2)[`----`
//Five days till the Semi-Centennial.//
You know who [Jaylen Hotdogfingers]<o1| is, and you get the distinct sense that she does too. Her stare challenges the onlookers, the millions of Fans already gathering in the area days in advance, the reporters desperate to reach someone for comment.
(click: ?o1)[$mini["How are you holding up?"
Your breath feels strange and wrong in your throat. "Could be better."
"Yeah." She puts two fingers on her wrist. Checking her pulse. "It's a rough part of coming back. Senses are all wrong."
You put your hand on the wall and recoil at the feeling of it on your skin.]]
[Jessica Telephone]<o2| is another name you've heard. A celebrity with her own fair share of fans, even in the Hall. She looks tired in the way most Blaseball players look after death, though she's never been in the Hall herself.
(click: ?o2)[$mini["How's Sebastian doing?"
Sebastian Telephone. The unreleased Hall Star. You only talked to him once.
"Uh. Don't really know him that well."
She looks out into the field. "I didn't either."]]
[Caleb Novak, Beck Whitney, Peanut Bong,]<o3| players you've heard about from Raúl and his old stories. Caleb's still in Miami, Beck has since been traded to the Millennials, and Peanut Bong had been in Los Angeles even before Raúl's death.
(click: ?o3)[$mini["Los Angel//i//."
"Huh?"
Caleb throws a ball. Peanut misses it and gestures for another. "It got split. You guys don't get news down there?"
"It got //split?//" Another ball. He misses.
"Yeah. Infinitely. The—" A miss. "Caleb, come on, I haven't played in a //while//!"
Caleb coaxes a stray bit of moss off the top of his hat. "Not going easy on you, sorry." He tosses another ball. Peanut misses.
"Besides, some of these guys haven't played in, like, thirty years or something."]]
[So many of the players here are another story someone told in the Hall.]<c3|
(click: ?c3)[`----`
//(you miss Raúl
he always had an answer
or knew someone who did
you know he couldnt answer this
this sinking feeling in your bones
the way the sun weighs on you
the silence in the nighttime
you know he couldnt answer this
and nobody could
but on nights like these//
[//you miss him all the same)//]<c4|
(click: ?c4)[`----`
//Four days till the Semi-Centennial.//
"So, who's the captain?" Gerund looks around.
"I had kinda assumed Jaylen was the captain." Caleb nods at her. She's pulling a bat out of her bag on the opposite end of the room.
Jaylen laughs a hollow laugh. "I've never been anyone's captain."
Rat twitches his nose. "Weren't you the captain for the Hall Stars or something?"
"The Hall Stars didn't have a captain." Jaylen explains patiently. "The Monitor pulled us together, and we played together. And...." She glances at Jessica. "....I wasn't on the Hall Stars the whole game, either."
There's a pause.
Tillman stands up. "I—"
"Sit down, Tillman." He complies with a surprisingly minimal amount of grumbling.
The team doesn't end up picking anyone out as "captain." Not formally, at least.
[It doesn't stop Jaylen from promising to lay out the list of the Vault Legends to talk strategy the next morning.]<c5|
(click: ?c5)[`----`
//(when it's stats and numbers
you're doing great
you're a credit to the team
7.1 batting
6.3 baserunning
7.0 defense
but outside the Fans' gaze
youre a relic
a distant memory
covered with ancient burns//
[//and aching scars)//]<c5o5|
(click: ?c5o5)[`----`
//Three days till the Semi-Centennial.//
"All the Vaulted players. York, Chorby, Nagomi, Paula...."
You're fixed on one specific spot on the list. Without looking, you can tell the others from your time are, too.
"Parker Macmillan."
You glance over at Agan.
[They run their hand over their scars.]<c6|
(click: ?c6)[There's some other names you remember there — Cote Loveless, Fletcher Berger, Clare Ballard, and —
"New Megan." Agan points.
Megan Ito's Alternate. You remember the original, you remember the replays that were on every channel that week, footage of the moment Megan Ito echoed Megan Ito echoed Megan Ito echoed Megan Ito....
[Echoed into static.]<c7|
(click: ?c7)[`----`
//$ghost[(each future
every possibility
its own galaxy]
everything blending together
what it all means//
[//remains to be seen)//]<c7o5|
(click: ?c7o5)[`----`
//Two days till the Semi-Centennial.//
"I'm on a journey." Dunlap opens hir arms out dramatically. "A journey that takes me far from Hades, perhaps, but an exciting journey nonetheless."
Sosa is unfazed by ver theatrics. "Right, okay, sure, but how does it //work?//"
Dunlap sits down. "It's an extra base. You have to run to first, then second, then third, then fifth, then home." Fae draws the route out with hir claw. "If I end up dropping it, it's up for the steal. And if you manage to steal the base, it's yours, and you bring it to every game." They hold up a finger. "//And!// You start Super Roaming. Every nine days, you move to a new team."
Your breath catches. Sosa blinks, hard. "Super Roaming?? That's still around??"
"Mm-hmm."
$ghost[Parker Macmillan Roamed to the....]
$ghost[Parker Macmillan Roamed to the....]
$ghost[Parker Macmillan Roamed to the....]
$ghost[Parker Macmillan Roamed to the....]
[You step out of the room.]<c8|
(click: ?c8)[`----`
//(bad feelings
$ghost[you try to explore]
cold hands over your eyes
$ghost[visions clear-cut]
but seen through a filter
cold hands over your eyes
it might be someone else
it might be you//
[//it might be you)//]<c8o5|
(click: ?c8o5)[`----`
//One day till the Semi-Centennial.//
"I've got Fire Protector again."
You turn to look at Agan. He's tracing out the burn scars on his arm. They wince a bit as they reach the parts closest to their hand.
"But Jode Crutch got the—"
"Don't need it. Look." Xe stands up. "Abner. Toss some fire over here." He gestures at her bag.
It turns to look at them tiredly. "You sure?"
"Hundred percent, pitch it over."
Abner throws a fireball at the object. The tattoos on Agan's arms light up, and the flame buckles back, bounces to the ground.
[It's beautiful, in a horrifying way.]<c9|
(click: ?c9)[`----`
//(that night
you stay with agan
half-asleep
squeezing xir hand
it's comforting
to forget why you're here
that you'll be playing blaseball again in the morning
the splort that killed you
and your teammates
and everyone you've ever known
you're both quiet
for most of the night
neither of you know what to say
and you don't need to say anything
you don't know how late you stay up
but you know you finally ask agan
what they think will happen
with the sun
the hall
the firewalker//
[[//and you know you fall asleep before you hear his answer)//->Semi-Centennial]]
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//ILB Historical Preservation Site. The Semi-Centennial. Top of the first.//
New Megan is up on the mound. She's confident, as confident as you've ever seen her.
James steps up to the plate. He's nervous by comparison. His nose twitches as New Megan winds up for the throw, and—
She's in the dugout.
You look out at the field. She's still out there, still pitching.
You look back in. She's here too. Standing in front of Dunlap.
[In superposition.]<c2|
(click: ?c2)["Hey. Dunlap, right?"
Dunlap's tail flies up in front of hir. Xe blinks. "That's...." Ve lowers his tail down. "....that's right. Rising Star of the show, I hope." A smile. The actrex is back in full force. "Aren't you pitching this inning?"
New Megan groans. "Yeah, it's annoying."
Seeing someone you knew — the //Alternate// of someone you knew — simultaneously on the mound and in the dugout, writing it all off as a //minor inconvenience—//
[It's disconcerting.]<c3|
(click: ?c3)[Your mind is buzzing strangely, half-formed thoughts and futures and $ghost[each one its own galaxy, each one its own galaxy.] You feel Agan tense up beside you.
"Anyway. Listen, I can't stay for long. I gotta get this done."
There's something about the way she says it, a feeling you can't shake. She catches you staring and gives a small nod in your direction. //What does// that //mean??//
Dunlap is playing the part of someone who is not concerned in the slightest. Their tail twitches. "What's that?"
A pause. Megan-on-the-field throws James a strike.
[Megan-in-the-dugout, when you look back, has her arm locked on Dunlap's.]<c4|
(click: ?c4)[Several of the other Stars stand up. There's a noise of static. Megan blocks them off.
Dunlap doesn't flinch. Ve thrusts cer arm back and lashes his tail out into hir attacker's face. "I would //prefer// to not get Vaulted today, please." Vir feathers stand up. There's a danger in xer eyes.
[But there's a danger in hers, too.]<c5|
(click: ?c5)[Static fills the air. "Hold still." Megan grabs ver arm again and Dunlap lashes at her face again. Agan stands up and runs at them before you can stop her, but gets pushed back by some unseeable force, something clouded in static, static, static.
"Agan!" You stand up, because you're not gonna lose them, you're not gonna let them sacrifice themself again—
He ignores you, or maybe doesn't hear you, or maybe can't respond. Xe pushes against the static and shouts. ["DON'T LET HER GET THE FUCKING BASE!"]<c5o5|
(click: ?c5o5)[The realization dawns on you.
$ghost[A trader. To get the base, to start a roam.
A traitor. To give the base, to start //someone else's// roam.]
Abner throws something from the other end of the dugout. It's not till it bounces off the wall of static that you realize it's a blaseball, cast with some unidentifiable spell and pitched in the direction of the fight. It falls harmlessly to the ground.
Megan pushes forward and Dunlap digs a claw into her grabbing arm, hissing, shouting, drawing golden blood. Still, she doesn't relent, she keeps her hand on her target.
With one hand still holding cer arm in a pitcher's grip, Megan holds the other out and pushes the actrex backwards onto the bench. She reaches for the Base as Dunlap raises ver tail in a fruitless attempt to try and protect it.
$ghost[A trader, a traitor, an echo, an echo, an echo, static, static, static, pouring in through every sense, everything, everything, all at once, echoed and echoed and echoed and echoed and—]
[She's gone.]<c6|
(click: ?c6)[$sim[New Megan Ito traded their nothing for Dunlap Figueroa's The Fifth Base!]
You, sitting there squeezing Agan's hand. Agan, squeezing back. Dunlap, breathing heavily. Caleb, sitting next to hir, asking ver if xe's okay. Sosa cursing loudly. Abner pacing. Peanut, lying on the floor. James returning to the dugout with a fresh out, stopping at the entrance with concern. Sutton shakily standing up to go bat.
"What now?" Gerund looks to Jaylen.
Jaylen sighs. "She has it, and she's not a batter. We're not gonna be getting it back."
You crouch down and reach under the seat to grab Abner's blaseball off the ground, and Agan glows beside you. Flames course through his skin and shudder out just as quick as they came. You look up at Abner. It huffs.
[A last-ditch effort. A hexed ball.]<c7|
(click: ?c7)[`----`
//Bottom of the first.//
Dunlap allows the first 3 runs of the game. Fae smiles, of course xe does, but you're not sure what is and isn't an act at this point.
But as you look on, your mind starts swarming, filling up with $ghost[futures, futures, futures, each its own galaxy, each its own galaxy. Rat Mason disappears.] Agan's voice pulls you back to the present, but you don't hear what they're saying. You squeeze their hand as you look to your left, where Rat Mason is sitting.
You see motion and you see a white corner peeking out from the wall, and you see $ghost[Rat Mason, batting for the V—]
You shout out. ["Rat, duck!"]<c7o5|
(click: ?c7o5)[He dodges just in time for a glowing box to fall out from behind him, immediately fading to dust.
He brushes the dust off his jersey. "Geez. Good call."
You regain your breath just as you see Parker step up to the plate, fire at his feet. He looks profoundly tired; he looks profoundly out-of-place. The flames leap at his face, impatient, as he gets into position.
[Dunlap digs cir feet into the ground and strikes him out rapidfire.]<c8|
(click: ?c8)[`----`
//Top of the third.//
You feel the bat's weight in your hands and it's too much.
You want to put it down and walk away. You know you can't.
You want to leave, you want to go back to the Hall. You know you can't.
You want to leave the audience wondering where you went. You know you can't.
You don't even want to win.
[[You strike out swinging.->Semi-Centennial 2]]
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//Season 23 - Season 24 Siesta.//
....
....
"Hey! Hey. Hey." Someone's prodding you. "Hey! Are you alive?"
"Am I?" You raise your head and look over.
There's a kid there. They watch you as you turn your head to look around.
You're by the side of a lake. It's warm out. The Black Hole is visible overhead, as are at least three different suns.
You sit up, and it sends pain running up your spine.
[You //are// alive.]<c1|
(click: ?c1)["Hey, what are your pronouns?" They roll a blaseball around in the palm of their hand.
"They/them." You wince as you put your hand on the ground.
"OkayIuseshe/herstayhere!" She yells in one breath as she runs off.
You squeeze your hands together. Your thoughts are lagging behind. The feeling of gravity weighs on you uncomfortably. Soon, you hear the kid yelling from a distance:
"Hey, Esme! I found a new player over there! They fell from outta nowhere!"
Another voice, older. "Nowhere, huh? Where are they?"
The pain coursing through your body right now is of a sort you haven't experienced to this degree for a long, long time. [You pull your knees to your chest as the two strangers approach.]<c1o5|
(click: ?c1o5)[The other one — Esme, probably — glances at your jersey as they come near.
"Hey. What's your name?"
"Abbott Wright." You put two fingers to your wrist. "Oregon Psychics. The Sun — I was playing in an exhibition match, the Sun died, I don't know what happened—"
Your thoughts finally catch up. //Agan. What happened to Agan?//
You close your eyes and run through possibilities rapid-fire. $ghost[He could be back in the Hall. Or, they could be somewhere on the Immaterial Plane, like you are right now.]
....or. $ghost[Or, xe could have gotten Preserved.]
You open your eyes. You're sweating. "Where are we?"
["Charleston, South Carolina."]<c2|
(click: ?c2)[`----`
What happened was this:
* [One of the Suns exploded.]<o1| (click: ?o1)[(Sun(Sun).)]
* [The Semi-Centennial was cancelled.]<o2| (click: ?o2)[(The result was called as a draw, despite the Stars' higher score.)]
* [The Stars who had been in the League already returned to their previous teams.]<o3| (click: ?o3)[(Except the ones who had been Vaulted.)]
* [Parker Macmillan roamed to a new team.]<o4| (click: ?o4)[(Again.)]
* [And....]<c2o5|
(click: ?c2o5)["They added you to our roster."
You freeze up. "What?"
"You're first on the rotation." Esme clicks into a list of names on their computer; sure enough, yours is up on the top.
You're silent for a while.
You're playing again. Playing Blaseball again. Playing at the end of the world again, playing in the midst of a firewalk again, [waiting for the end again, again, again.]<c3|
(click: ?c3)[You finally sit up in spite of the pain and squeeze your hands together. "Do you have a phone?"
Esme pulls something out of her pocket and taps it a couple times. "Here." They hand it to you. You take it carefully.
You look at the screen of the device. It's telling you what time it is, and showing you a couple of icons, but you're not sure how to use it to //call// someone.
"Um. Esme."
"Mm?"
"How do I use this?"
She stops. ["Oh."]<c4|
(click: ?c4)[`----`
Beck answers the phone. "Hey, Esme, what's up?"
"Uh, hey, this is Abbott Wright. Do you know where Agan is?"
"Oh! Abbott, hi!" There's a noise of footsteps. "They just got added to our roster, she's over there, hang on...."
There's a pause and some indecipherable conversation. Finally, you hear xir voice. "Abbott—"
"—Agan. Holy shit." You hadn't realized how much you needed to hear from them. ["Holy shit."]<c4o5|
(click: ?c4o5)["Yeah." You hear a cat meow in the background. "....yeah. Where'd you end up?"
"Charleston." There's a pause. "You're in New York?"
"New York City, yeah." Agan taps something. "Listen, Beck said we're, uh, Returned now. Hall could pull us back by the end of the Election."
The possibilities run jumbled far ahead, but you get the sinking feeling that $ghost[there won't //be// an end of the Election.]
You squeeze your hand. "If there //is// an Election."
["Yeah."]<c5|
(click: ?c5)[`----`
"Can//not// believe Esme pulled another ghost."
You pitch a curveball. Stu bats it off easily.
"Another?"
She nods. "Esme was Haunted for, uh, lemme think. Got it the season before we got the Wheel of Fortune...." She taps her foot. "Toss me another one, come on."
You go for a fastball this time. Again, Stu bats it off. "Gotta come in a little faster than that." She grins. "Anyway. Stopped being Haunted in the same Election that Ren got alternated, so, like, end of Season 18. Seven seasons. About 2 years."
"Wow."
"Yeah." She hits another ball. "How long since you played before this?"
"Not sure." Toss, hit. "Everyone says it's been 'at least' 30 years, but nobody has an exact answer." Toss, hit. "You're good at this."
"Been a batter for a while; I'd sure hope so." You actually get one past her as she says that. She grins as it flies past. ["Nice one."]<c6|
(click: ?c6)[`----`
Charleston's warmer than what you're used to. Your body takes far longer to acclimate than it should.
You find yourself walking along the coast, looking for something in the water. You don't know what it is, $ghost[some distant call to action, something you feel in the depths of your soul, something that digs at your every movement and tries to tug you under.]
Esme talks about her own excursions sometimes. It's like another world, she says, deep under the water. On late nights, it calls out, and sometimes they answer, flippers propelling them under the surface, between pillars, around crumbling stone walls.
Maybe that's why you almost succumb to its siren song. Maybe that's the source of the temptation, the drive to dive under. The prospect of something more ancient than you, something bigger and more frightening, but $ghost[comforting in its many years, knowledge locked into vaults, nearly lost to time.]
[[You stay out of the water, for now.->Nullification]]
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//(you stay up late
on a call with Agan
twirling an imaginary phone cord
around your fingers
before you know it,//
[//you're up on the mound.)//]<c1|
(click: ?c1)[`----`
//Season 24, Day 1.//
As it is, you're not good at the game. You're fine with that, though you recognize that your current team is one that's not unfamiliar with playoffs and championships, a legacy carried on from their prehistory predecessors.
Still, you can't help but feel the feeling of gravity on your feet, the warmth of the blood running through your veins. You can't help but feel the way the blaseball flies when you pitch, the details of the movement an ancient muscle memory, the muscles aching, the movement insufficient. You're a relic, you know this, and you feel like you could fall apart at any moment.
[The Crabs win 3-0.]<c1o5|
(click: ?c1o5)[You recognize Ken Loser, and you introduce yourself after the game. He smiles. "Good to see you in person." His expression changes for a moment, as though listening to someone speak. He nods in response to some unheard question.
["Shannon says hi."]<c2|
(click: ?c2)[`----`
//Season 24, Day 3.//
$sim[CONSUMERS ATTACK]
$sim[AGAN ESPINOZA]
`----`
"Look—"
"Agan, you //can't// start martyring yourself again."
"Listen, it's—it's a bit of an old habit, alright?" They laugh. "I'm still a Fire Protector—"
$ghost[(fire protector, martyr, able to protect their //teammates// from—)]
"—it wasn't an incineration, Parker's not on your team, and—"
"I don't care if it was an incineration, I don't care what team he's on." Their voice is suddenly firm. [You're quiet for a while.]<c3|
(click: ?c3)[You don't know much about Parker's time on the Artists, but you do know the Artists thought they were invincible. Just like the Miami Dale after them, the Canada Artists believed they were immune to incineration.
You remember the splorts news reporters talking of "teary goodbyes" and "friendships forged amidst the firewalk". You remember thinking at the time that they were exaggerating, the way splorts reporters do, dramatizing relationships between teammates, between teams, pointing to rivalries and alliances that sometimes only existed between Fans.
The topic of the Firewalker came up far more often between you and Raúl than you and Agan. Maybe you assumed you knew exactly how xe felt.
"Sorry."
["Don't be."]<c4|
(click: ?c4)[She winces as she stands up. You wince //looking// at him.
"I—I'd sit out the next couple games if I was you."
"[You're on the Rotation.]<o1| I'm batting tomorrow," they remind you. (click: ?o1)[(You enter the Shadows later that day.)]
You tell them to be careful. ["Don't martyr yourself. Please."]<c5|
(click: ?c5)[`----`
//Season 24, Day 11.//
"Hey. Abbott, right? It's Ana, from the Mills." She clears her throat loudly. "Listen, I'll cut to the chase. Agan got Redacted. Said to call you if that happened. Uh, Beck was gonna call, but—"
[You stop the voicemail message and head out to the coast.]<c6|
(click: ?c6)[`----`
//Season 24, Day 12.//
You watch the waves go by.
You watch them pound up against the shore. You watch the Black Hole in the distance, threatening the dominance of the other suns.
You wonder if anyone else on your team knows. You're not sure how common Redactions are.
$ghost[You hear the siren song of the sunken ruins once again.] Your feet are close to the water. You feel the aching of times long past still gnawing at your bones.
$ghost[For the first time since you returned, you listen.]
The notes ring around you, the rhythm squeezes your hand, the melody taps you on the shoulder and smiles. You let your feet touch the water, and $ghost[it welcomes your entrance into its realm, however small.]
[It's a beautiful song.]<c7|
(click: ?c7)[`----`
//Season 24, Day 13.//
You rush to Chicago first thing the moment you hear of Agan's return.
"Hey."
"Hey." You look up. "Told you not to martyr yourself."
"Told you it was an old habit." Xe closes her eyes as you wrap your arms around him. "Sorry."
You smile. ["Don't be."]<c8|
(click: ?c8)[`----`
//Season 24, Day 33.//
You tell Agan about the tug of the ocean, the way you find yourself venturing deeper every week. You've asked Esme for details more and more often, and they have no shortage of stories.
Agan tells you about the call of Mx. Chicago, the voice that they could feel the call of even as they made their way out from the Secret Base. It brought her back, drew xir out of the void, for the sake of a city she hardly knows.
There's a lot of wonder to be had in this League. [$ghost[You can hear the song of the waves] from well beyond the Charleston shoreline.]<c9|
(click: ?c9)[//Season 24, Day 54.//
Your team becomes Scattered.
Agan calls to ask if you're okay. You are, though you find yourself losing track of where you are much more often lately. You start to walk back to your place, lose your train of thought, and wind up back at the shore, standing and watching the waves go by.
[You try staying in Chicago with Agan for a while, but the waves call you back by the end of the week.]<c10|
(click: ?c10)[`----`
//Season 24, Day 63.//
Parker Macmillan roams to your team.
You don't interact with him. You just don't have it in you to do so. You know he knows you're in the teams' Shadows. You pass each other several times. Every time, you stop and you open your mouth as if to say something. He looks at you with tired eyes.
You close your mouth. He looks away. So do you.
You watch the Firefighters' games instead of your own team's that week. [At night, the waves tug at your feet, and you find yourself wandering neck-deep into the ocean.]<c11|
(click: ?c11)[`----`
//Season 24, Day 75. Top of the eighth.//
You see the face that lights up Kennedy Loser's own, and you recognize it instantly.
You watch Raúl, arcing sound and electric blood, in the form of moving chitin and claws, hit a single, running, grinning, watching the Shoe Thieves' side carefully.
[You wave. He waves back. You nearly cry.]<c12|
(click: ?c12)[`----`
//Season 24, Day 89.//
You swim out into the depths of the water.
$ghost[You see the ruins clearly now], though your head doesn't duck under the surface, lest you be tempted to bring it deeper underneath. You swim out, and out, and out, and $ghost[you hear the echoes of the library lost to time. You see Charleston, and you see something else, a part of it few will understand,] [a part deeper than you'll ever know.]<c13|
(click: ?c13)[`----`
//Season 24, Day 92.//
[You sit outside with Agan.]<c14|
(click: ?c14)[You're quiet. The stars sing to some distant tune above you, a song you had almost forgotten in all your years, a melody you hadn't realized you'd missed. The Black Hole is approaching, but the light of the stars is stubborn, refuses to be swallowed up, refuses to die. Starlight echoing, echoing, echoing its many years back at you, light that takes so long to reach your eyes that, even as you watch it, it could be changing, and you wouldn't notice, [still lost in its echoes from a time long before.]<c15|
(click: ?c15)[You wish you could reach out and touch it. To roll it around in your hand, to make sure it's still there, that it hasn't changed without your notice. You wish you could find some guarantee that this would last forever, the light of the stars and the sound of the waves and the warmth of the air around you. Yet still, you find comfort. Laying on Agan's shoulder, watching the black hole make its threats, make its threats, so close, yet even when you $ghost[know it's there, you know it's coming, and you know it'll be soon], you can still focus on the feelings that draw wonder in your eyes, warm breaths through your lungs.
For now, [[you live.->End]]
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]Table of Contents
These can be read out of order. Aside from common themes, the sections have no relation to each other.
I. Esme (Unfinished)
[[II. Abbott ->Unknown]]
[(text-style: "underline")[(Click here for section-specific content warnings)]]<content2|
(click: ?content2)[
Content warnings for Section II (NOT in chronological order): blood, descriptions of overwhelm, dread, physical fighting, swearing.
]
III. Shannon (Unfinished)
[[Credits + Thanks]]Story and cover image by Firey.
A huge thanks to the Wone for their interest in this story and for helping me develop it.
Another big thanks to these team sidecords for helping me get to know their characters:
- YsM Scenic Trails
- The Crabitat
- The Steakhouse
- The Underarena
- Sunken Charleston Community Library
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//Top of the third.//
"Parker doesn't want it."
"Huh?"
"You can't hear it?" James hangs from the ceiling at the entrance of the dugout.
Agan squints. "Can you??"
"Barely." The bat twitches his nose. "He doesn't want it. Least, if he does, he's being real weird about it."
You watch Parker and Megan in the dugout. You can barely see them from here, but you can tell their heads are moving. You see motion, you see James' ears twitch as Parker flinches back.
["....'Getting it right this time.' Something about getting it right this time. Shit."]<c1|
(click: ?c1)[`----`
//Top of the fourth.//
Caleb and Beck whisper to one another.
They get Dunlap in on it, and xe nods along. "Good luck." is all you can make out as Beck stands up to get ready for her at-bat.
When it's Beck's turn to bat, she gestures for Caleb to follow, to stand at the entrance. She's smiling as she heads out onto the field. [You crane your neck to see what's going on.]<c2|
(click: ?c2)[She steps up to the plate and hits an easy groundout almost immediately. Instead of going back to the Stars' dugout, however, she walks over to the Vault Legends' dugout and leans outside. She shouts something you can't decipher from here, but whatever it is makes James laugh.
Eventually, someone comes out of the dugout entrance — New Megan, probably still holding the Base. Beck whistles.
With lichen bristling and shifting as they move, Caleb throws a pitch, right at New Megan.
[Everyone holds their breath.]<c3|
(click: ?c3)[The ball disappears in a burst of static.
New Megan says something further, then walks back into the dugout. Beck returns empty-handed.
"It was an idea," Caleb offers.
Beck sits down with a shrug. "She's too unpredictable. I don't know what options we've got." She adjusts her hat. "For what it's worth, that was an //awesome// pitch."
"Thanks." Caleb pulls another blaseball from out of his bag and hands it to Abner. "Any suggestions?"
Abner huffs. "We've still got 46 innings to go. Plenty of time to pull something off, but plenty of time for them to pull it back." It stands up and makes its way to the entrance of the dugout. ["We'll see. Don't get your hopes up."]<c4|
(click: ?c4)[`----`
//Bottom of the fourth.//
As Abner winds up for the pitch, you see New Megan step onto the field. A burst of static sends her into superposition, and Megan-on-the-left is heading towards the dugout again.
You watch as Don Mitchell gets shoved into a crate. Heisted by the Vault Legends.
[You can't bring yourself to look at the Legends' dugout.]<c5|
(click: ?c5)[`----`
//Top of the sixth.//
Agan hits a groundout to Parker.
A look passes between them. You're not sure what it is.
[You're so busy watching that you miss the moment Sutton Bishop gets heisted.]<c6|
(click: ?c6)[`----`
//Bottom of the sixth.//
Jaylen Hotdogfingers gets heisted.
It's quick and unstoppable, although Gerund tries to knock the crate out of the way.
The dugout is quiet, save for Sosa trying to talk to Gerund. Gerund puts two fingers to her wrist as she watches Jaylen step out of the Legends' dugout.
She yells something at the pile of crates towards the top of the bleachers.
[It may as well have not been heard.]<c7|
(click: ?c7)[`----`
//Bottom of the tenth.//
At the end of the inning, New Megan, not for the first time, offers Parker a hand.
[For the first time, he takes it.]<c7o5|
(click: ?c7o5)[`----`
//Top of the eleventh.//
It happens.
$sim[Trader New Megan Ito traded their The Fifth Base for Parker MacMillan's The Force Field!]
You squeeze Agan's hand.
Agan squeezes back.
Another league, doomed. Another firewalk, another odyssey.
[The rest of the game blurs together.]<c8|
(click: ?c8)[At some point, Tillman is heisted. James tries to stop it, flies in and grabs him by the shoe and pulls and pulls and pulls, and only manages to rid Tillman of one of his sneakers before he's [swallowed up by the crate.]<c9|
(click: ?c9)[At some point, Sosa is heisted. Abner tries for the save this time, casting a spell that swirls around the crate and you swear you see a $ghost[glimpse] of Sosa inside for a moment, a split second, before the crate descends, disappearing into [static, static, static.]<c10|
(click: ?c10)[At some point, Hewitt is heisted. Jada stabs the crate with her sword, and Gerund stands up to follow suit. Their blades make no mark on the container, and it vanishes. [Jada keeps her sword with her as she steps up to bat.]<c11|
(click: ?c11)[At some point, Collins is heisted. Tot runs out and paws fruitlessly at the crate. It tumbles across the field, shrinking into the grass. [Tot runs over to paw at that, too.]<c12|
(click: ?c12)[At some point, Nicholas is heisted.
And that's the very last thing you hear before [[your senses are rocked by the shriek of a dying sun. ->Intermission]]
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](align:"=><=")[END.]
[[Return to Table of Contents->Table of Contents]](set: $ghost to (color:"red"), $trench to (color:purple), $plane to (align:"==>")+(box:"=XXXX")+(color:purple), $sim to (text-style:"bold","italic"), $binky to (text-color:"#7591FF")+(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXX="), $mini to (align:"<==")+(box: "XXXXXXXXX="))
[//????. Season ??, Day ??.//]<c1|
(click: ?c1)[//You're in the Trench.//
//It's dark, so dark, illuminated only by the strange glowing creatures of the trenchfloor. They surround you with their listless stares, ancient in a way even you can't comprehend. You hear a massive turning, and watch as tentacles descend and the Monitor swims by you. The creatures move out of its way, ducking their heads, folding their fins, almost out of respect.//
[//The Monitor stops to stare at you.//]<c1o5|
(click: ?c1o5)[$binky[hey
are you uh
good]
//....//
//You find yourself unable to speak. Your words drown in the Trench. You switch to telepathy.//
$ghost[[Where am I?]<c2|]
(click: ?c2)[$binky[uh
nowhere, for now
big explosion
supernova
you're kind of asleep]
$ghost[[Where's Agan?]<c3|]
(click: ?c3)[$binky[pretty much the same
nowhere i mean
different part of nowhere though
bit weird]
$ghost[[What happens now?]<c4|]
(click: ?c4)[$binky[well uh
you'll probably wake up at some point]
//It regards you thoughtfully.//
$binky[if you've got any burning questions
now might be a good time]
//....//
$ghost[[Is this real?]<o1|]
(click: ?o1)[$binky[hate to be the one to pull this card but uh
that's a maybe
i'm definitely real
i don't really leave the trench
except to go fight eggs or whatever
but you're kind of on hold right now
as far as uh
reality]]
$ghost[[Am I dead?]<o2|]
(click: ?o2)[$binky[no
congratulations
or sorry for your loss
if it was me
i'd be leaning towards the latter
but i might be biased]]
$ghost[[Why did I get split from my team in the Hall?]<o3|]
(click: ?o3)[$binky[so uh
what happened was
the fans started looking through the library
immortals got into the modern hall
boss got all mad
i didn't really know what to do
and that crab guy was like
still haunted
figured it'd be like
a really bad shock
if everyone who got pulled for the hauntings
had no clue there was even a modern league
so i let you in a bit early
to see how long it'd take to get acquainted
plan was to let everyone in
before the start of the Season]
//It wrings two of its tentacles together.//
$binky[but uh
boss got mad
again
she does that a lot
uh
said i was like
making things worse
"something something
taking advantage of the historian"
but it was like one week 'till the start of the season
so i couldn't really do much]
//It turns to look at the creatures on the trenchfloor.//
$binky[can't say i have any regrets though
never really understood the separation
you seemed to get along fine with the other guys]]
$ghost[[Nothing else.]<c5|]
(click: ?c5)[$binky[alright
try not to sit up too fast when you go back alright
jaylen did that the first time around
massive headache]
[//The Trench starts to fade away.//]<c6|
(click: ?c6)[$binky[and then i told chorby
before they left the hall
(text-style:"blur")["hey
don't do that
you'll get a headache"]
(text-style:"blurrier")[i don't know if they heard me
big garage is pretty loud
especially after a necromancy]]
[[You wake up.->The Return]]
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]Hey!
Congratulations on finding this, but I'd rather you not look at the code. Everything not accessible in the story is prone to being rewritten when it //does// get published, anyway.
Thank you!
- Firey