Chapter Text
The illuminating sun shone brightly overhead in the clear blue skies of Gloriville.
As per usual, the typical banter and troubles of a particular store in an otherwise peaceful and cozy city pierced through the sound barrier in resonating waves of destruction.
Even with at least a foot of wood and an entire story’s height of distance between the source of agonizing commotion and his now nearly-bleeding ears, the ungodly clamor was unbearable to someone as tolerable and typically mild-tempered as he was.
There was a thud. And then another thud. Now some yelling. And now screaming.
And now, inevitably, followed the sound of shattering glass, the trickling of mercury flowing from a shattered vial and small whispers of a sizzle that gave indication to some strange substance now corroding the wooden floor boards.
Whiskey slammed the remnants of the vial and its contents into the partly corroded table.
It was the third time since this morning that the screeching and screaming had either startled or shaken him to the point of fumbling with the delicate and tedious process of alchemy experimentation.
He tilted his head up towards the ceiling, eyes focused on some unknown point above in the ceiling as he slowly raised a hand up to remove, wipe and then replace the circular framed glasses on his face. He breathed out slowly and straightened himself out-- looking straight ahead at the blank wall in front of him with a calm smile.
He was sure that no one would blame him at this point if he were to simply go and silence the source.
“Yahooo! Watch this, Cola!” Whiskey caught a glimpse of a tuft of brown hair streaked with stripes of green bounce about alongside the infuriating thudding noise that had ruined his entire morning thus far. A beam of bright orange flew right past it before slamming against a vertical board with a hoop hung parallel to the ground with an unbearable crash.
“Aw, that’s sick!”
Whiskey watched the horribly sickening act of the idiot duo run up to one another and clap hands in a celebratory frenzy.
The scene did not distract him for long as something came to roll to a stop at his feet.
An orange ball covered with small bumps and black stripes. It was the offending object.
How fortunate for one of the perpetrators to conveniently show up. A coy smile broke onto his face as Whiskey bent over and picked up the orange mass with the full intent to reduce the object back into its atomic components.
“Oh, Whiskey! Hey, dude! You got our ball! Wanna play?”
He must have taken too long as Cola and Hamburger made their way over to him with unbearably gleeful expressions.
“Ah, I’m afraid not,” he replied. Smiling as he always did, he took the ball in both hands, bringing it straight to his chest and immediately forward-- launching the projectile square into the fumbling hands of Cola.
“W-whoa-!” Cola stumbled back from the force.
“H-hey! That-” Hamburger looked at the ball in shock before turning to Whiskey.
Whiskey expected anger. Of course, that was the usual reaction that one would expect from having a ball thrown so forcibly at them.
He was about to open his mouth to express his complaints when Hamburger beat him to the punch.
“THAT WAS A SOLID PASS, DUDE!”
Whiskey’s smile dropped and his eyes widened. “P-pardon-?”
Both Cola and Hamburger, mouths split into wide grins, before dragging him onto the paved asphalt decorated with drawn white lines.
“Play basketball with us, man!”
“I didn’t know that you could play, dude!”
Whiskey found himself with the orange abomination in his hands again. Smile naught betraying the malicious intent to obliterate both the orange monstrosity and the two obnoxious food souls, Whiskey was just about to unleash his wrath before getting interjected once more.
“Oh? You three are playing basketball? How fun!”
Ah. He knew that voice. The demise of two food souls and an orange ball has been postponed for now, he supposed.
“Master Attendant!” The two other food souls bounded over to his attendant in joy to be received in warm welcome.
“Hello, Master Attendant. What brings you here?” There was a growing anxiety in him. The odd glint in his attendant’s eye could only bring foreboding news.
“I heard that you play basketball, Whiskey.” His attendant grinned. “Mind if I watch you three play together?”
“How funny, Master Attendant. You and your sense of humor… Unfortunately, I haven’t a clue where you have heard that from, but I don’t even know what this ‘basketball’ is, much less know how to play it.” Whiskey smiled politely as he held out the ball to give to his attendant. “I also have some things to do today and was only here to ask that Hamburger and Cola tone down on the noise.”
“Ah, is that so? A shame.” His attendant didn’t look at all disappointed; the current smirk and sinister glint in their eyes would only indicate otherwise. “I guess I’ll just watch Cola and Hamburger play by themselves then… Maybe I’ll invite some of the other food souls to come play or cheer them on...” The smirk only widened much to Whiskey’s horror. “...loudly, that is.”
Whiskey chuckled to himself and wondered if his attendant derived some sort of sick pleasure from watching him suffer. “That would inconvenience them, would it not, my Master Attendant?” His smile revealed not of the immense betrayal that he felt.
“Oh, I disagree. It’s great to come together and partake in something fun once in awhile, right?” his attendant quickly remarked.
“Master Attendant, you’re a genius!” Cola exclaimed. The excitement and energy radiating off of the smaller, white haired food soul was comparable to the sun’s. His taller compatriot was just as, if not more, than ecstatic.
“Wonderful! Let’s gather everyone here to watch and play then!” his attendant beamed and threw him a glance from the side.
“I’m afraid not-” Whiskey began to interject.
“Let’s divide you guys up into two teams! Whiskey, you’re the captain of Team 1. Hamburger, you’re the captain of Team 2!”
“Ah, Master Attendant, I’m not playing-”
And there he stood next to an overbearingly elated Hamburger-- a flimsy white jersey with the number ten scrawled on the front and back over his collared dress shirt which he could not be bothered to change out of. He stared over at the sidelines of the ‘court’ they were to play on to see his most gleeful attendant holding onto his long outer coat and vest which they managed to pry off of him.
“Good luuuuuck, Whiskey!”
He already heard the laughter of some of the food souls that were standing by to watch. A certain vendetta took roots in his mind and he made mental note to murder a certain pretentious red-haired food soul that had somehow managed to convince his attendant to sit out an be a referee for the game.
They were creating their teams. Hamburger had the first pick and to no one’s surprise, he picked Cola.
Whiskey sighed. There really isn’t anyone that he could pick that would willingly play alongside him in this outrageously irritating game. But like all things, he didn’t really need people’s consent now, did he?
“Pizza~? Why don’t you come play on my team with me?”
The blonde food soul looked in horror at him before stamping feet over towards him with a more than hostile glint in his eyes.
And so the two teams were formed.
Team 1 comprised of Whiskey, Cassata, Gyoza, Mapo Tofu, Souffle, Pizza, and Bloody Mary. The strange mix of team members included those indifferent to Whiskey, absolutely hating him and tolerable of him on certain occasions. Other than picking a few of the members, he had some players such as Gyoza and Mapo Tofu that had volunteered either out of pity for him or the desire to simply play ball since they weren’t picked for the other team.
Team 2 was a much better mix of people who got along much better. The team of Hamburger, Cola, Steak, Gingerbread, Tempura, Unadon, Eclair and Brownie were all good and functional members.
“Alright, pick your five starters!”
Whiskey immediately headed for the bench only to be immediately chastised. “Team captains have to play the ENTIRE game~!” a singsong voice called out. “You can’t sit out, Whiskeeeeeyyy!”
“...Master Attendant, have I done something to wrong you? This is not the law of equivalent exchange-” he muttered to himself as he begrudgingly walked back out onto the court.
Simply because he was on the court, nothing ever said that he had to play. So Whiskey just stood a little ways from the action that was ongoing and watched contently as Mapo got fouled for running through Tempura, Souffle having a loud debate with himself as to which team he was on and passing the ball to Steak of all people, and Gyoza just having a good time by bouncing the ball however he pleased until it was stolen.
He watched from the corner of his eye as his attendant whispered something to announcer/referee Spaghetti before the latter yelled for him, “Hey, you four-eyed snake! Play basketball! Don’t just stand there!”
Whiskey sighed, a coy smile on his face before replying back, “I’m the point guard. I’m just watching over things-”
How the fates were in his favor. As soon as he spoke of watching, the ball-- that he had certainly not been watching-- flew right at him, hitting him directly on the back of his head.
Most of the food souls went silent aside from the ostentatious laughter from Fruit Tart and the scattered chuckles of Bloody Mary alongside a specific red-haired food soul. He made note to replace Fruit Tart’s hair spray with pepper spray solution later tonight.
“Oh, and it looks like it’s time for the halftime break!”
Whiskey found himself on the bench with an ice pack held on his head by a concerned Mapo Tofu who was still apologizing for launching that accursed orange projectile a little too strongly and in his general direction.
His team was far behind in points. Not that he cared any. The sooner that this was over, the better for him.
He noticed his Master Attendant discussing something with that irritatingly pretentious announcer of a food soul when the aforementioned smiled ominously and sent a gleeful look his way.
“So, with the halftime break, we’ve decided to announce that the winning team gets to challenge the losing team to as many matches as they would like!”
Whiskey was about to murder the stupid incarnate of a noodle dish before Mapo Tofu pressed down on the ice pack a lot harder insisting him to sit back down.
He already heard the loud voices of Hamburger and Cola getting pumped up to win and play ball for the rest of the month until they lost.
Was this truly what was concocted in order to motivate him to interact with the monstrous orange sphere?
“Alright! Halftime break is over!”
Whiskey pondered if this was the law of equivalent exchange coming back to torment him now. For whatever wrongs that he must have done in the past must be coming back as retribution now-- not that he could recall anything wrongdoings to incur which wrath.
But since he was allowed a choice in the duration of his suffering, at least he should make effort to choose the shortest amount of pain.
He walked back towards the court, but not before giving instruction to Cassata who was to throw the ball back into play.
“Cassata.” Whiskey pat the food soul on the shoulder as he passed by. “Throw it to me.”
“Hah?” The request was not well received and he was met with a confused glare.
“Just pass it to me,” he reiterated as he walked out onto the court.
The whistle blew.
Cassata looked conflicted as he held the ball.
Whiskey held out two open hands in front of him. Cassata glanced at him nervously before passing the ball to Whiskey.
“Oh hey! Whiskey’s finally playing!” Tempura exclaimed. “ALRIGHT! LET’S GO!”
The muscular food soul ran to stand in front of him, arms ready to intercept and steal.
Letting out a small sigh, Whiskey smiled before throwing the ball down into a steady dribble against the ground.
Right hand passing the ball back in a feint, back and under his right leg to his front left, Whiskey quickly passed Tempura who was still in the midst of processing the play.
A few dribbles to the hoop guarded by food souls who were all too distracted by what had happened, and the ball was in the hoop.
Everyone was silent. That was aside from his attendant who was absolutely thrilled and clapping their hands in delight.
“Ok, what now?” the announcer had yet to process the score.
The underwhelming announcer was finally usurped from his position as his attendant took helm at the forefront.
“And that’s two points scored for Team 1 by its Captain!” they announced. “What a play! Was anyone expecting a solid play from Whiskey today? He’s struck awe into team members, opponents and audiences alike!”
Gingerbread was the first to snap out of it.
“Hey! You idiots! Get focused!” She took the ball and began to run back towards his team’s hoop. His teammates were scattering to get back into formation.
“W-WHOA! THAT WAS GOOD, MAN!” Cola was exhilarated as he ran alongside Whiskey to guard him.
Whiskey only smiled as usual and gave no reply.
The ball passed onto Steak as the horned food soul set up for a three-point shoot.
The arc, though high enough to get over Cassata’s block, was nothing for Whiskey. He simply jumped, knocked the ball out of its projection, landed, stole the ball back, dribbled to the other hoop and scored two more points again.
Instead of silence this time, the entire court--audience and players alike-- were screaming in either shock, awe or horror.
“WHAT A PLAY FROM WHISKEY WE’RE SEEING TODAY, FOLKS!” his attendant announced pridefully. “WHAT A TRANSITION FROM BLOCK TO STEAL TO SCORE! WHISKEY’S BRINGING OUT HIS A GAME TODAY!”
The whistle blew to indicate a team member substitution. Unadon came out to replace Steak as a player on court.
“Alright! It’s my play now!” Unadon met Whiskey’s eyes with challenge. “I’m gonna score ALL the points!”
The play immediately resumed with a rather shady steal that Unadon pulled off from Souffle-- who then started to yell at himself for letting the ball get stolen. Whiskey looked over to his attendant to at the very least call foul or warning, but only saw that they were leisurely pretending to not see the underhanded play that had just occurred.
While he was occupied with what his attendant would announce, Unadon had already lined himself up at the three point line and launched the ball right into the hoop.
“Wow! And just like that! Team 2 scores a three pointer from none other than the man himself, Unadoooooon!”
The cheers were beginning to irritate him. It was either that or how his attendant had announced a praise for someone other than himself.
He only grew more irritated when the food soul came up to him with a pat on his back.
“If you’re always looking around distracted, I’m just gonna score more points! Ahahahaaha!”
The ball was in Mapo’s hands now, and she was quick to rush past Gingerbread and towards Team 2’s hoop.
Similar to his previous tactic, Unadon came up to Mapo to intercept her and managed to steal the ball mid dribble.
“A STEAL FROM UNADON YET AGAIN!” his attendant announced. “The ball’s in Team 2’s hands yet again! Is someone from Team 1 going to do anything?!”
Today must be an unfortunate day for him. He typically wouldn’t get provoked and spurred into action over something trivial like this.
Whiskey quickly made his way towards Unadon who was already set up at the three point line in a steady dribble to further taunt him.
“Gonna try and block me?” he asked confidently. The ball flew into his hands and Unadon immediately set up for a high-arc shoot.
The ball flew up.
“OH! THE ARC IS HIGH! THERE’S NO WAY THAT WHISKEY COULD BLOCK THIS!!!”
Whiskey scoffed irritably. He bent his knees and sprung up to block the ball.
Despite how high the arc that Unadon had established for the projectile, Whiskey would still be able to reach it.
“OH! HE JUMPED TO BLOCK ITTTT!!!”
“A super-jump!”
“It’s like he’s floating!”
“ZONE!”
The comments were all over the place.
But he didn’t let that distract him.
He slammed the ball down and out of its path to the hoop, landing quickly and dribbling past Unadon and towards the other team’s hoop. Approaching closer, the other team was quick to recover with both Hamburger and Cola guarding him to prevent him from shooting.
A futile effort. He jumped with the momentum of his run and the ball in one hand. With an immense force, he slammed the ball straight into the hoop with a resounding bang.
The court fell silent only to erupt in chaotic cries.
“HOOOOOLY SHIT!!” The audience was in a riot. “THE FALLING STAR DUNK!!! A METEOR JAAAAAAM!”
“WHAT THE SHIT, WHISKEY?!?”
“Nice dunk, Whiskey!”
“WHAT WAS THAT?!”
“I DIDN’T SEE THAT!”
“ZONE!”
Even though it was not scientifically possible, the audience was cheering him on for once. Not that it mattered to him.
Point after point fell at his feet as the hoop resonated each one of the dunks that had struck against the board behind it.
Before he knew it, the whistle blew out to signify his undeniable victory.
His teammates rushed up to him in congratulations alongside his opponents who were being surprisingly good sports about it.
“Whiskey, you did so good!”
“I didn’t know that you could play basketball that well!”
“Look guys! He’s not even sweating!”
“How did you manage to play in your buttoned up shirt like that?!”
“Congratulations!”
The compliments and inquiries fell on deaf ears. Whiskey was just relieved that he had won as to not ever warrant the need to play such a loud sport ever again. The silence that he had wanted was won by him now, and he won’t let that be taken away for a good while.
“That was impressive! You did so good, Whiskey!” One compliment garnered his attention. He turned around to see his attendant seemingly over the moon with how happy they were. He gave them his usual smile as they handed back his long coat and vest.
“Thank you for your praise, Master Attendant.” The compliment struck a funny feeling of warmth in him. He watched as the crowd began to disperse.
“Looks like everyone’s spent their energy,” his attendant mused. “It’ll probably be quiet around here for a little while, huh?” They sent him a knowing smile.
Whiskey chuckled. “Yes. It would seem that way.” He slipped off the jersey that he was wearing. “I plan to make use of this down time for some errands of mine.”
“Well, I shouldn’t keep you then,” his attendant mused. “I’ll see you around!”
“I’ll take my leave, Master Attendant.” With coat in hand, he turned around and proceeded to head back to his room but not before overhearing a rather interesting commentary.
“Wow, Master Attendant! I knew that you said Whiskey knew how to play basketball, but yo!” he heard Hamburger clamor with that overly loud and cheerful voice. “Even though you taught us how to play and all, we still weren’t a match for him when we did manage to get him out to play!”
Whiskey froze.
He turned his head around slightly to catch a glimpse of his attendant-- madly smiling with the most foreboding glimmer in their eyes.
He felt some unknown sensation prickle within his throat uncomfortably. And he understood.
Today only marked the beginning of the torment that was to come.