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Season 2, Day 26 - Pregame
“Suzanne! Have you seen my jacket?”
Declan looked up from his Halo game at the older player, shrugging noncommittally. “Haven’t seen it, Tyreek. Sorry.”
“You were the one that borrowed it. What did you do with the damn thing?”
Turning back to his game, Declan zoned back out. “It’ll turn up.”
Season 2, Day 26 - Top of the First Inning
“Spoon, look alive! That umpire looks mighty angry.”
Justice turned toward the rogue umpire as it stomped across the field, her blindfolded gaze focusing on it for a moment before turning back to the Tacos batter. “Don’t worry about it! We’ve got a game to win,” she said, lowering herself into a running position.
Tyreek frowned at his protege, watching the umpire stomp away to lurk around the Tacos dugout. As the pitch cracked off the batter’s swing, he dropped back into the game as he ran to catch the flyout.
Season 2, Day 26 - Top of the Seventh Inning
After nervously keeping his eye on the umpire the entire game, Tyreek was beginning to feel a little safer. It seemed angry, but definitely not heated. The Fighters were up a couple points, and the Tacos’ home field advantage was nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly, though, a pop fly cracked off home plate, heading straight for the ump - and Justice was running straight for it. Her obstructed gaze was focused on the falling ball, not the rogue player roaming the field. She kicked up grass as she tried to get under it - before crashing full speed into the umpire.
The rogue ump flared up with rage, fire burning behind its mask, as the field around it grew cold.
Tyreek took a deep breath, letting it hiss out between his teeth. “Damn, I wish I had that jacket,” he said to himself, before sprinting toward the fallen Justice.
Just as the ump hit its fever pitch, the older player sprung in front of Justice, closing his eyes. After that, he just felt a blast of fire - only for a split second - then... nothing.
Season ? Day ???? Inning ??????
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. The Call. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Number 14. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Hotdogfingers? Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. The Call. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. The Call. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. WAFC. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. WAFC. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. The door opens. Number 14 leaves. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
Season 7, Day 100
oh hey
you’re awake
well sort of
not really awake but you know
i’m opening up the hall
figure it’s a good way to get lots of tiny eggs
might be able to see your friends again
anyway
good luck
see ya soon
bye
Season 8, Day 1
“Well, we’re sort of alive,” Emmett said, the first game of the season playing on his monitor. Some of the players in the Hall were watching intently, while others were trying to stay as far away from it as possible.
“Yeah, but sort of dead,” Randy said, leaning back and falling into a gigantic pile of peanuts wrapped in a bag. The Hall wasn’t big on furniture - the Monitor seemed preoccupied with other things - but as the peanuts poured in, the incinerated players gathered them to make bean bags, at least.
For his part, Tyreek wasn’t particularly interested in watching the games. He’d tune in at some point, just to break up some of the monotony, but at this point his spirit just wasn’t in the game. For the moment, he watched the wall of glowing blue numbers continued to rack up tributes, smiling to himself as his own number ticked up. It seemed a little pointless, but he appreciated the team spirit anyway. He was from Chicago, anyway.
Now that he was actually moving around again, the Call had quieted down a little. It still nagged at him from time to time, but he just quashed it down with a simple question - /How am I supposed to help?/
Season 9, Day 64
A flash of blue flame at the end of the Hall signaled a new addition to the roster. An immediate groan of displeasure came up from nearly half the current denizens.
“Seriously? We have to spend eternity with this asshole?” Combs Duende, asked the Monitor, shaking her fist at the squid.
Cracking her knuckles, Nora grinned as she stepped toward the new admit. “At least now I can get my 50 bucks back from him,” she said, picking up the greasy-looking player by his shirt.
“Hey now, hey now - I’m pretty sure I left my wallet on the mortal plane,” Tillman said, giving his previous teammate an apologetic smirk - a move that didn’t seem to calm her at all. Either way, she dropped him to the floor, rolling her eyes before heading back down the Hall.
Brushing himself off, Tillman was surprised when someone offered him a hand. Taking it - grudgingly grateful - he looked up at Tyreek Olive, quirking an eyebrow. “Why?” he asked plainly, as the former Firefighter pulled him to his feet.
Tyreek shrugged, clapping Tillman on his back. “Declan seemed to like you well enough. Now shut up and come on, I’ll give you the grand tour. Ideally you’ll get through it without getting your lights slugged out.”
Season 10, Day 100
“You know, Tillman, you’re really not so bad. We’re actually coming around to you being around,” Kiki said, smiling at the young man. “It hasn’t been that long, but you’ve really grown as a person, and I’m happy to call you a frie-“
Kiki’s speech was suddenly cut off as Tillman’s entire body started to... fizzle, slightly, as a high-pitched whine penetrated the entire Hall. Every player stopped what they were doing as Tillman started to lift off the ground, his uniform flickering over to the colors of the Shoe Thieves as real blood started to pump through his body once more.
“I think - I think I’m going back!” Tillman yelled, laughing hysterically. “I’m... I’m alive! I’m alive, and I’VE LEARNED NOTHING! And - I mean this - each and every of you can take your eternal rest and SHOVE IT UP YOUR RIGHTEOUS-“
With a loud BANG and a flash of light, Tillman Henderson feedbacked out of the Hall. As the stars faded from the players’ eyes, a figure was standing where Tillman vanished - but not a new one, for once.
“Guys,” Jaylen Hotdogfingers said, “I’ve got a plan.”
Season 10, Day X
As Tyreek watched the tributes pour into the Hall’s counter, he felt himself becoming more solid by the minute. The Call’s voice was growing ever louder in his mind, although this time it wasn’t directing him to a physical fire - more like a metaphorical one to beat down.
Jaylen tapped the former Fighter’s shoulder, causing him to startle slightly. As the other side of the hall erupted with sudden ‘Did you see that’s?!’ and ‘Was that a [REDACTED] black hole?’, she gave Tyreek a sad smile. “I don’t think there’s a way back for you like there is for me,” she said, skin shining blue in the glow of the board.
Tyreek shrugged, leaning on the railing of the Hall overlooking the board. His name and thirteen others were nearly locked into a new team - one that Jaylen had outlined for them in a hurry as the playoffs ran by. “Hey, no need to worry about that,” he said, as another 100,000 peanuts were cast in tribute for him. “Ever since you left, I’ve been itching for... something new, I guess. And this is certainly something new.”
He looked out over the Hall. “Any idea what might happen to the rest of them?” he asked Jaylen, receiving a sad shrug in response. “That’s what I figured.” Sigh.
“We still need to try to do something,” she said. “The Shelled One’s a bit inscrutable, but I don’t think it wants anything good for the league at large.”
“You’ve got a point. Multiple points, really.” He looked at some of the blaseballers he had gotten to know over the past few... whatevers he had spent in the Hall, before standing up straight and cracking his knuckles. “I always figured I’d go out in a blaze, not on the field. Firefighters usually do, you know.”
Jaylen laughed. “Well, I can’t promise there won’t be a fire on the field. I really can’t promise anything at all. This has all been planned pretty quick, and we’re not guaranteed to win, plus-“
Tyreek patted her shoulder as a gasp went up over from the watch party - ‘It just knocked out the champs in one shot!’ “Don’t worry too much about it, kid. If you have any doubt in your mind, get rid of it. When we hit that field, don’t even think about winning or losing - just think about the game, one inning at a time. We’ve got the best of the best out here, and whatever happens - well, at the very least, they’ll be talking about it forever.”
The top fourteen names on the Hall of Flame started to glow one-by-one, locking them into a playing rotation. As the glow reached his name, a jacket flickered into existence, draping itself across Tyreek’s shoulders. Raising an eyebrow, he checked the name on it - Olive was printed, with a stitched R tagged on to the end. “Huh. Where’d this come from?” he asked, pulling on what appeared to be his old jacket - still a perfect fit.
“Figured you’d like using it one last time,” Jaylen said, stepping away from the Hall’s list as the fourteen players gathered around her. “Now come on - we’ve got a god to kill.”
Tyreek laughed, picking up a bat and giving it a test swing. “Sounds good to me.” He joined his new teammates for one last game as they were called back to play one-by-one.
Season 10, Election Day
After the drama of the Crabs ascending and the Shelled One’s players falling across the league, Declan Suzanne went back to his room, yawning. It’d been an eventful season, for sure, and another one was right around the corner. After getting scratched up again by Socks and chatting with Tillman (who had missed the Crabs’ ascension), he was ready to hit the hay.
As he flipped his light on, his prized jacket - handed down from a player on the Garages - was neatly folded on his bed, cleaner than the day he got it from Oliver.
/Huh, I thought I had this in my locker,/ Declan thought, picking up the jacket and brushing it off. The stitched R had been carefully taken out, leaving just the boldly printed OLIVE. A small note fell out of the folded jacket as Declan picked it up.
After hanging it up in his locker, the firefighter picked up the folded note, opening it and reading:
Declan,
Thanks for keeping this safe for me.
Hope it keeps you safe in turn.
Good luck out there, and swing for the fences.
See you when I see you.
Tyreek.
PS - Quit hanging out with that Tillman jerk.
Season Whatever, Day Whenever
After the Hall Stars killed the Shelled One, there really wasn’t much else to do. The team dissolved pretty quickly after the game, making Tyreek nostalgic for his time with the Firefighters. Some of the dumb antics they got into after daring wins and narrow losses... he missed it. He also missed the actual firefighting aspect of the team. It always felt like that was his real calling, and the blaseball was just a distraction. A fun distraction that he was good at, but a distraction nonetheless.
As he was contemplating what to do next, the Call echoed in his mind - but this time, instead of being the nagging sound of a faint siren or the clang of a fire bell, it was a clear, quiet voice.
Oh, my fighter, it said, calmness washing over Tyreek, You have fought for so long, and so well. Come, I have a new task for you.
Tyreek looked around him, seeing nothing but sensing a presence standing beside him. “I’m tired, though. More tired than I’ve ever been.”
You need not fight any longer, my fighter. All I ask now is for you to help light the way for those who come after. To protect the spirit of the city you are from. I wish to give you new purpose, my fighter, and I hope that you will join me.
Tyreek let out one last hissing sigh through his teeth, his eyes slipping shut. “You know, that doesn’t sound too bad to me. Carrying the torch rather than fighting it for once. I think... I think I could do that.”
You will, and you will do a wonderful job. I shall see you again soon, in the heart of Chicago.
And, with that, Tyreek Olive was Released.
Season After That, Day In The Future
The Firefighters erected a statue of Tyreek just beyond the home run wall of the Fire House, depicting him as an angel holding a road flare like a torch, lighting the plaza with a warm, red glow. Declan always visited it just before his home games, always wearing his lucky jacket - now kept in pristine condition.
Some Chicago Firefighters reported that now, instead of the soul of Chicago calling them to battle with the distant sound of an alarm or the crackling of an inferno, they sometimes heard the voice of an old teammate, encouraging them to keep the team spirit burning but the fires extinguished.