Archive of Our Own ^beta

Season 23, Day 99

Officially, Parker MacMillan IIIII was at the Shoe Thieves and Talkers game in his capacity as Commissioner. The Boss had pushed for him to be more involved in the league, so over the course of the season he visited every stadium. He talked to the players in carefully staged photo ops, at least the ones who wanted to talk. Usually it was the newer players, the ones called up from the Shadows or freshly hatched, the ones who didn’t remember Before. The older players tended to keep their distance. He was Making Appearances. He couldn’t wait for it to be over.

Unofficially, secretly, really known only to him and The Reader, he was at the Gleek because of how it was built. He made a show of sitting in the Splash Zone, and when the first wave of Immateria hit, he listened to how the stadium shook and rumbled, getting lost in the cheers of the fans, 20,000 people chanting “GET WET!” and “YOU! HATE! IT! HERE!” Any other time, it’d be infectious. But Parker was on a mission.

At the top of the ninth, the Thieves were losing badly, nearly flailing in the moist hell that the Talkers had built for other teams. Blood Hamburger hit a triple, the start of what could have been a rally if the Thieves weren’t down 3-15, but it was something. And when Esme Ramsey stepped up to the plate, Parker heard the rumbling again. He stood, almost flinging himself out of his seat. The fans started cheering again as Immateria poured over the outfield walls like a breeched levee. They stood with Parker. “GET WET! GET WET!”

Parker ran to the wall between the stands and the first base line. The Immateria roared in. The Talkers were climbing to the roof of their dugout, the Thieves too, though not as well practiced. Parker gripped the wall. He climbed up with the Talkers, who mostly side-eyed him, but otherwise ignored him.

Blood Hamburger was washed to Elsewhere. Parker watched them go, disappearing in the rush. The Talkers fans cheered.

Parker held his breath. He jumped. And the Immateria washed him away.

“...so I’m doing my reading, right, and lōotcrates out of nowhere just starts talking about me like i wasn’t there, that subposting bi-“

“Why are you in my office??” Parker almost shouted. He lay on his floor, staring at the ceiling. Reader sat in his chair, spinning slowly. They had been rambling on for the better part of fifteen minutes. Parker had been hoping to tune them out, but Reader was unstoppable.

“hiding. you know that.” They stopped spinning.

“Go hide somewhere else.”

Reader leaned over Parker’s desk, looking down at him. “where would i even go? the hall? it’s so damp there, and the monitor is sooo boring. all it ever talks about is fish.”

“The Monitor is nice,” Parker said. “Be nice to The Monitor.”

Reader scoffed.

“For one, it doesn’t break into my office.”

Reader rolled their eyes. “That was one time.”

“You literally just did it!”

“materia immateria,” Reader said, waving their hand in a circle.

“That doesn’t mean-“ Parker cut himself off. He groaned and closed his eyes.

Reader was silent a moment.

“wanna play turbo mlonopoly?”

“No.”

“what’s your deal?”

Parker opened his eyes. Reader watched him carefully, and Parker realized after a moment it was more concern than annoyance. He pulled his jaw shut tight and thought for a moment.

“I have to stop Her,” he said. “She doesn’t care about any of us. She’s just about the money. We saw what happened in…” He closed his eyes, saw the flames, smelled the burning of uniforms and fields and players and… He opened his eyes again, gasping.

“buddy…” Reader said. “it’s okay…”

Parker nodded. “She’d do that to us too. She’d eat us alive to clear her debt.”

“we have to stop her,” Reader agreed.

“But how?”

“wyatt.”

Parker looked up at them. They looked down at him, a crooked smile on their face, their eyes almost glowing.

“wyatt will know what to do,” they said.

“Okay but Wyatt is gone. We haven’t heard from them in years.”

“i think,” Reader said, their grin getting larger, “i know how to find him. but you’re going to have to get wet.”

Parker closed his eyes again. “Noooooooo…”

No one talked about Elsewhere, not really. Parker had heard rumors, of course, of the Wlaffle House where everyone gathered. Somehow, Wyatt Mason was involved. That’s all he knew. It sounded peaceful, honestly, barring any Wlaffle House fight, though frankly, he thought, that was part of its charm. Parker could go for some waffles, get lost in a cup of crappy coffee, just disassociate for a while.

This was not the Wlaffle House.

Parker stood in a clearing in a massive evergreen forest. It was dark, fog filling in the spaces under the canopy. He could smell an ocean nearby, but the paths that wandered into the forest didn’t indicate which way it was.

He could hear the Static, though. It was in no place in particular, just a low hiss, the background radiation of Elsewhere. He didn’t know how to get to it, but it being there meant that the Reader was right.

Parker picked a direction and started walking.

He had walked for what felt like an hour before he noticed how quiet the forest had gotten. Or had it always been this quiet? He shivered, feeling the hair on his neck stand up straight. Very suddenly, the peacefulness of the forest had become a threat.

A shape darted over him, riding high just under the canopy. Parker dove behind a tree, his blood slamming in his veins. The fuck was that?? The shape turned in a wide arc, making a path through the trees before coming back, passing a little lower, like it was doing reconnaissance.

Oh god, was it looking for him?

Parker got down to the floor of the forest, hoping the underbrush would keep him covered. The thing darted past again, this time nearly at head-height. It pulled a tight turn and stopped a base-path length out, looking right at him.

Parker blinked at the form, a cat girl sitting on a broom. She smiled at him from under her pointy witch hat, her eyes squinted just a little. And then she set down on the forest floor.

“Parker! Is that you?” She called.

Parker hesitated. He knew this girl, kind of, from Before. Or Parker III did, anyway. He thought about her, scraping his mind for information. Ruby Tuesday came to mind almost immediately.

Oh no. Kiki Familia. Just a kid, the spirited young girl that ran out onto the field out of a sense of duty to her Talkers and the league, the one who played brightly for 5 innings and then was taken by Blaseball. And the one who, when was called upon by the Fans, stepped up and killed a god. One of the 14 players who managed to Escape the League. The legend, Kiki Familia.

A voice in the back of his mind told him to run. Parker stood up.

“Kiki?” He called. The cat girl’s ears perked, and she beamed.

“Hey! I’ve been looking for you!” She waved him over. “What are you doing here?”

Parker approached slowly.

“The Reader said… I’m looking for someone,” he said.

“There’s lots of people here,” she said. “Who is it? I bet I can help!” And there was that smile again, squinty-eyed, pointy teeth.

Something tugged at his mind, trying to pull him away. “The Reader says the Static has been overlapping here, and if I can find where it overlaps, I can find Wyatt.”

“Wyatt Mason?” Kiki asked, tilting her head. “What do you want with Wyatt?”

“Have you seen them?” Parker asked, a little more excited than he had wanted to let on.

“It’s hard to say,” Kiki said, scratching her ear. “Things come in and out all the time. The sky changes when it wants.”

“But have you seen the Static?”

“You really wanna go there, huh?” Kiki asked, her smile fading. The light behind her eyes was gone. “I can take you there.”

“Yeah,” Parker said. “Uh, I mean, please.”

Kiki held out her hand. “Let’s go.”

Parker took her hand. “Ah! Your hand is so cold.” He shuddered.

Kiki shrugged. “It’s twelve degrees and it’s misty out. Kind of how it is here. I guess I should get gloves or something.” Kiki led him into the forest.

Park_r nodded absently. The more he walked, the more he started to feel… floaty. His feet were on the ground, as far as he could tell, crunching on the path. But Kiki had a solid hold on him, and he trusted her to keep him safe.

Park_r’s mind wandered, stumbling in and out of Before. Parker III had met Kiki, he remembered, when the Hall Stars did a tour of the League, twenty victory parades. It must have been exhausting. He remembered how silent the memory felt, at least for Kiki. But the other Parkers' memories were like that sometimes.

“Why do you want to find Wyatt?” Kiki asked. “How’re they going to help?”

Park_r had to think. Why did he want to talk to Wyatt? He’d come here for that reason. Right?

“Wyatt knows how…” How to what? What had the Reader told him? “They were there Before. They helped…”

Kiki kept her eyes on the path. She didn’t respond.

“They… they saved…” Why was this a struggle?

“Wyatt did a lot, didn’t they?” Kiki said.

P_rk_r nodded. Wyatt helped…

“They helped the Hall Stars,” P_rk_r said firmly. He knew that for sure.

“They did.” The sweetness in Kiki’s voice was gone. P_rk_r shook his head.

Why did Parker III’s memory feel off? He replayed the entire meeting with the Hall Stars, the congratulations, the talk of What’s Next. He remembered not being sure if they could stick around. He remembered the way Kiki stuck close to Workman Gloom, because she was still just a teenage girl who got in over her head. He remembered asking a question, the way his hands moved, and how Workman had to get her attention and relay the question to the exhausted cat girl in sign language. He remembered her signing her reply, tired but bright and proud. He…

Oh no.

P_rk_r pulled his hand away from Kiki. She turned to him, her eyes wide, questioning. But not hurt, P_rk_r thought.

“What are you?” He asked shakily.

Kiki’s eyes darted over his face, her mouth opened in an unasked question.

“You’re not Kiki Familia,” he said, forcing himself to be firm. “Who. Are. You?”

Kiki stepped back. And then a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“Dang,” the thing pretending to be Kiki said. “I was so close.” She looked up the path. P_rk_r followed her gaze.

In the fog, P_rk_r could make out shapes, shapes like people, fourteen shapes at a time. They were shadows, glowing holes where their eyes had been. They got closer, close enough to see that they were all wearing uniforms, a uniform that P_rk_r immediately recognized as the Alaskan Immortals.

P_rk_r started to back away. The thing that had pretended to be Kiki just smiled, a glow forming behind her eyes. “No, stick around. They just want to talk.”

P_rk_r turned and fled into the forest. Off to his side, he could see another team of shadows, all wearing Canada Artists jerseys.

Paaaarrrkkkeerrrrrr, they hissed. You walked awaaayyy.

P_rk_r pushed harder, his heart about to explode, but he pushed. On his other side, he could see another team rushing to him, shadows of the Minnesota Truckers.

You did this to usss, they said.

“I didn’t!” P_rk_r choked. “It wasn’t my fault!”

The teams got closer, running steadily, tirelessly.

The thing that had pretended to be Kiki bounded up next to him, running on all fours, grinning too broadly. “Stay a while! Come chat!” She swerved into P_rk_r and knocked him off balance. He tumbled to the ground, rolling off the path. He groaned, the world spinning around him.

Glowing eyes loomed over him, followed by a Cheshire grin.

“Hi!” The thing that had pretended to be Kiki said. “Let’s talk!” It bared its claws and started towards him.

There was a blast of light. P_rk__ shielded his eyes as the false Kiki dissolved. And suddenly, he was floating out of the forest.

P_rk__ sat on a rocky beach under a foggy sky and a warm blanket, keeping one eye on the fire that had been built for him, and one on the shape that sat far back from him, but close enough for conversation.

He was soaked to the bone, which was his fault, to be honest. He had been scooped up from the forest floor, and it took him a moment to register why. And when he saw Kiki Familia had taken his hand, had given him a pointy-toothed smile, he panicked, struggling out of her grip and plunging into a cold ocean. Kiki fished him out, of course, setting him on the beach, calming him down with slow, careful motions, signing that he’d be okay.

Aside from the fire and the blanket, though, he made sure she stayed back. Kiki respected his wishes, keeping far enough back to give him the space he wanted, but close enough to keep an eye on him. She asked if he needed anything. He just pulled the blanket tighter and stared at the fire.

Kiki looked up, her ears perking in surprise, and she stood. Footsteps crunched up the beach behind him. P_rk__ jumped up, spinning around, clutching the blanket tighter.

Another player stood behind P_rk__, watching him from a respectful distance. They held a cup of coffee in one hand, and another two in squiddish tentacles. They drew back at P_rk__'s wild-eyed look.

“You’re… you’re PolkaDot Patterson.” Not the PolkaDot Patterson he had seen at the game before, the one that had been cleaning up at the plate all that season. This PolkaDot Patterson looked like the one that won three back to back championships. He was still unclear why things had changed.

“Parker?” PolkaDot Patterson asked. “You’re the one who came through?”

“Uh…” P_rk_r said. “What do you mean?”

Dot carefully skirted around P_rk_r, and handed Kiki one of the coffees. They then turned to P_rk_r and offered him the other. P_rk_r took a long drink, its warmth washing over him.

“It’s not Wlaffle House coffee, but it gets the job done,” Dot said, signing so Kiki could follow along. Dot motioned to the fire. “Can we sit down?”

P_rk_r nodded. He sat carefully. Dot and Kiki followed.

“Where…” P_rk_r started, looking around. “Where are we?” He looked at the coffee cup in his hand. They had spelled Tlim Hlortons wrong.

“Best we’ve been able to tell,” Dot started, “British Columbia.”

“Uh…”

“We don’t get it, either,” Kiki said.

“This is just where Elsewhere puts us,” Dot said. “The beach is safe, by the way. Here and the little settlement up the way.”

P_rk_r looked over his shoulder, spotting some little buildings and tents huddled together a ways down the beach. People gathered around them.

“Whatever you want to eat, whatever you want to drink, however long you want to rest, you can get it.”

Park_r turned back to Dot. “That sounds nice,” he said, his voice so small.

“Heaven is a place where nothing ever happens,” Dot said.

Park_r blinked. “That’s from a song, right?”

Dot nodded. “You seem surprised.”

“You don’t seem like you’re a music type?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Dot said. “I’ve got perfect pitch.”

Parker groaned. He took a long drink of his coffee. He shuddered. “What about… what about the forest?”

Kiki and Dot both looked to the forest.

“It seems that the forest picks up on your fears and insecurities,” Dot said.

“And your guilt,” Kiki said.

“It loves all of it,” Dot said. “Like it feeds on it.”

“I saw the old teams,” Parker said softly. “From the Ultra League. The Immortals and the Artists and the Truckers.”

“All of the teams that Parker the first…”

Parker closed his eyes. “I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t my fault.”

“Objectively wasn’t,” Dot said. “Not even Parker the First’s fault. The Boss’s greed did that.”

Parker looked back up, Dot and Kiki watching him closely. “I have to find Wyatt. That’s why I’m here. The Reader says I can get to them here.”

Kiki looked over at Dot, her ears twitching in thought. “Wyatt hasn’t been seen in years,” she said.

“Decades,” Dot said. "I’ve been through dozens of different Blaseball dimensions. Wyatt isn’t there. I’ve looked.”

Parker hesitated. “Why are you looking for Wyatt?”

“To bring them home,” Dot said. “That’s what I do when people slip Elsewhere. Kiki is learning how to, too. But I’ve been farther than here. I think Wyatt is gone.”

Parker hugged his knees to his chest. “Don’t say that. They’re not. The Reader says they’re in the Static.”

Kiki and Dot looked at each other again.

“That… could be,” Dot said carefully. “It’s totally possible.”

“Can you take me?”

Dot hesitated, and Parker’s stomach knotted on itself. It wouldn’t occur to him that the most feared pitcher in the league would hesitate at anything. But they all had seen what happens in The Static.

“I’ll take you,” Kiki said.

“Kiki…” Dot started.

“I can do it,” Kiki said. “It doesn’t bother me.”

Parker pulled his jaw tight. He tried to shake off the forest.

“It’s the guilt,” Kiki said, as if reading his mind. “That’s why there was another me in the forest too.”

Parker’s eyes grew wide. He hugged his knees tighter. “Parker III hated himself for what happened to you. I carry that with me too.”

“Well,” Kiki said, “I’m not mad at either of you.”

Parker gave her a questioning look.

“If Ruby Tuesday hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be here to help you.”

Parker nodded slowly. He forced himself to take her casual forgiveness. “Can… Can you help me?”

Kiki beamed. “Let’s go find Wyatt.” She held out her hand.

Carefully, Parker took her hand. This time it was warm and soft, and her magic buzzed just a little on his palm.

Dot took both of their hands. The world fell apart around them, and rebuilt in a damp green field. The sky above was gray, clouds gently misting on them. And waiting on the field, like a monolith, a wall of Static hissed at them.

Dot hugged both of them. “Good luck. If you get in too deep, there’s no shame in backing out.”

Kiki nodded. Hand in hand, she and Parker stepped through the wall of Static.

Parker would be lying if he said he could remember what happened next. It was as clear as the gray skies above the field. He remembers Kiki pushing forward, static winds whipping at her hat, which somehow stayed on her head. He called for Wyatt, but his calls were drowned out, his voice a hiss that melded with the world around them.

There were shapes here, like shapes in the forest, people that once were or maybe never would be. Kiki stopped and pointed to the shapes. They seemed to move around a center, blending in and out, parts of a greater whole, and if Parker concentrated enough, they all came together as one… almost.

“Wyatt!” He called, and this time the shapes heard him. They all seemed to stare, but nothing else.

“Wyatt, it’s Parker,” he called. “I need your help.”

The Wyatt Shape reached out to him.

“Can you help? We can stop Her but I need your help.”

The Wyatt Shape didn’t move. Parker looked at Kiki, and then pointed to The Wyatt Shape. She nodded, and let go of his hand.

“Good luck,” she said.

Parker took a deep breath, and slowly reached out to The Wyatt Shape’s hand.

The world gave way to Static.

It was Reader that woke Parker up. He lay on the floor of his office, and he’d be half convinced it was a dream except that he gripped The Microphone in his hand, and that he was so, so damp.

“did you find wyatt?” Reader asked, resting on their knees.

“Kind of,” Parker said. He sat up, Reader helping him. He blinked himself back into the world.

“kind of?” Reader said, tilting their head, their voice going sour.

“I don’t think…” Parker started. “I don’t think Wyatt can come back.”

Reader sat back, their eyes falling to the floor. Parker saw their jaw tremble. “what do we do?”

Parker stood, locked the door to his office, and sat down at his desk. That’s when he noticed the mess.

Scattered on all surfaces of his office were empty tuna cans, little red and green plastic Mlonopoly houses, stacks of colorful fake slips of money stapled to his desk and at least three walls. He could see half of a game board, or at least the pieces of it, apparently glued to the ceiling.

In the corner, hiding unconvincingly behind a plant, was The Monitor.

Parker closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “What… happened here?”

Reader froze, their eyes darting around the room. “...nothing?”

Parker let out a deep sigh, took a deeper breath, and ignored the office as best he could. He looked The Microphone. It weighed heavy in his hand. “Wyatt gave me this for a reason.”

Reader’s eyes grew wide. “they want you to use it.”

Wyatt had used The Microphone. They had sent messages to the League when Parker III couldn’t step up, messages of hope, trying so hard to keep everyone’s spirits up. They had made a deal to save the League. They had called forth the Hall Stars. Wyatt had saved them.

And in the end, The Microphone shattered them across the Immaterial Plane.

“Tell me I can do this,” Parker said.

“i don’t know what you’re doing,” Reader said. They stood and planted their hands on Parker’s desk, leaning forward, looking into his eyes. “but whatever it is, i know you can do it.”

“you can do it commish,” The Monitor said, leaning out from behind the plant, holding up a tentacle in as close to a thumbs up as it could manage.

Parker nodded. He held both hands on The Microphone, and activated it.

“hello. This is Parker MacMillan IIIII speaking. I am the Blaseball Commissioner…”