Chapter Text
It was early morning in Macchiato City. The fog was slowly lifting and the city itself was slowly rousing. I always liked it best at this time. It felt easy to blend in. I arrived at BC Noir Agencies at 7, our usual opening time, and went inside. It was a small office, at least certainly smaller than our usual office back up in New York. But for a temporary residence for the duration of the cup, it would do. Stacks of papers and filing cabinets lined the walls, excluding the wall furthest from the door. That wall was instead covered in miscellaneous machines. The only other features of note were the two desks in this room, one in the corner and one in the center.
At the center desk sat my Uncle Plasma, typing away on his brick of computer. He didn’t notice I entered, so I coughed. He visibly flinched and stopped whatever he was doing. He looked over at me.
“Ah, mornin’ Liq!” He said excitedly. He was a morning person. I wasn’t.
“Morning Uncle.” I said with a smile as I walked over to the desk in the corner, or well what counted as a corner given the overflow of documents. I sat down and put my feet up on the desk. We didn’t get much work here, or at least we didn’t yet despite the high density of ILB players in this city, so I usually just slept for another few hours. Just as I was nice and comfortable my Uncle looked over.
“Ah wait wait we actually have a case today.” He spoke in a voice a little too loud for 7am. This was genuinely surprising. I hadn’t actually expected to get any work during the cup. Honestly, it was a bit disconcerting.
“Oh really now?” I got back up with a sigh, casually crossed my arms and walked towards him.
“Yes, yes.” He waved me over to his computer, I had to do an awkward half-crouch to see it well. He was still pulling up the information as he started speaking.
“The client wants us to investigate the perchloration of the late commissioner, Parker MacMillian IIII. Normally this wouldn’t fall under our niche but as the commissioner was a player at the time of his death, we’re legally able to investigate.” My Uncle stated while scrolling through the legalize of the now pulled up file.
“Who’s the client?” I asked while pretending to understand any of the legalize on screen. I did the fieldwork, this was my Uncle’s wheelhouse. He had ‘taught’ me how to read these documents a few years prior, but I didn’t actually learn. I just bluffed my way through it. He didn’t catch me.
“Don’t know. Whoever it is wants to stay anonymous.” He said tapping the thick screen of the computer, pointing at the blank client section. “However, the client says that they’ll be at Macchiato City Stadium AND that ‘you’ll know who they are.’” He put his whole body weight into those air quotes, to such an extent that he almost fell out of his chair.
“Well if that isn’t suspicious.” I said standing up and preparing to head out into the cool fog of a Macchiato City morning.
“I’m sure it will be fine Liquid, if they tried anything in the stadium they’d surely be caught immediately.” He laughed a bit. I was never sure how he could be so casual sending me into potential danger. I guess he just trusted my abilities. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to show some concern every once and awhile.
“Yeah, yeah” I got up and started walking out. I stretched my arm and hit the doorframe on the way out as I have since ever since I was a kid. Uncle Plasma hoped I’d outgrow it, and I did, but I didn’t let him know that. I heard him sigh on the way out.
I had time, so I stopped at my new favorite coffee shop on the way over. Although this city always felt a little to the left, the one thing they had going for them was a really good cup of joe. I walked in and ordered my favorite type of coffee. Strong and black. It makes me a little jittery. I like that about it. I sat down at a high-top table, near the window, and I watched the fog roll out above the city as the sun rose higher in the sky. I took a nice long sip, closing my eyes and feeling the taste of the coffee dance around on my tongue before being absorbed into my greater being. When I opened them there was someone across from me, with another cup of joe. It is almost the opposite of mine. Too much foam. Practically white. I could tell there wasn’t any sugar in it, you get an eye for these things after being in the business as long as I am. I respected this stranger for that. Sugar ruins the taste. I looked up to meet this stranger's eyes, and was met with nonother than Jaylen Hotdogfingers looking back at me.
“Heya” she said smoothly. Her appearance surprised me but I didn’t let it show, I know better than that.
“Hotdogfingers” I state, taking in another sip of my coffee. Internally I chuckle at that last name. Blaseball players always have the weirdest names, not that I’m one to talk.
“So, what are you doing out this early” I responded to the pitcher, who is now settled comfortably in her chair. Good to see she isn’t leaving anytime soon.
“Oh so I can’t go out and get a coffee on such a lovely morning?” she smirked, leaning in closer. I frowned. “Alright, alright. I saw you come in and I wanted to chat, is that a problem with you?”
“Depends. About what?” I stated coolly.
“Oh, you know.” She twirled her hair. This seemed uncharacteristic. “Just wanted to get to know you a bit better, see what makes Liquid Friend tick.”
“Ah,” I don’t innately trust Hotdogfingers. She had an alibi for this case but I wouldn’t call her ‘the most moral person’. “So uh, what would you like to talk about then?” I adjust my chair and sit up.
“Oh uh. Hm.” She seemed flustered. “How do you like the cup so far?” a beat passes. “Or well your time in the cup.”
I wasted no time with my reply, “It was... alright. I’m glad to have some more free time now.”
“You and me both.” She said with a smirk. Her momentum restored, she continued, leaning in a bit further, “You’re a pretty good player though, you know that? You performed really well all things considered, and your little division thing isn’t anything to laugh at.”
“Ah, thank you Hotdogfingers. This goes without saying but you're no slouch yourself.” I try not to think about the sheer terror I felt while I was on the receiving end of Jaylen’s pitches. Her glare was like it was staring into my very soul and the faint feedback emanating from the blalls as they whizzed by would have been enough to make a lesser player quit right there.
“Why thank you” She leaned in further, only inches away from my face. “Y’know I do have one regret about that game though” she whispered smoothly. Welp. This was it. I was going to get killed by Jaylen Hotdogfingers. I wasn’t the first and likely won’t be the last. Such as life.
She leaned up to my ear “It’s that we didn’t get to play on the same team.” Oh. Oh god. I was on a coffee date with Jaylen fucking Hotdogfingers. What the fuck. Goddamn. Alright. I somehow kept my composure from the palpable confusion I was experiencing. She leaned back and sat down in her chair, looking a bit smug. Before I could respond she continued.
“I DID consider switching over to your team, y’know me and you plowing through this whole cup.” She crossed her legs. “I decided it would have been a bit.... Disingenuous.”
“That’s flattering Hotdogfingers.” I took another sip of my coffee, refusing to lose my composure. “I’m glad you didn’t, my uncle would have been fairly disappointed.”
“Please, call me Jaylen.” She stirred her own cup. A moment passed. “You could do pretty good in the ILB, you know that?” This statement caught me off guard. I didn’t let it show.
“I’m quite happy with my current job, thank you.” I’ve also seen what happened to people in that league. People like her.
“What IS your job anyways?” she twisted and leaned up against the window, it seemed like she couldn’t get comfortable in that chair.
“Detective.” I stated coldly, “Specifically into ILB affairs.”
“Ah.” she says, clearly caught off guard. “Got anything on me?”
“One of the largest portfolios I have, Jaylen.” I can’t tell if she seemed concerned, disappointed, amused, or proud.
“I’m surprised it isn’t the largest. Who has it anyways? You can tell me that right?” She tried to directly flow the conversation into something she was more comfortable with.
“Tillman Henderson.” I stated plainly, looking towards the window. “Although, it’s less like yours and in more of a ‘crippling debt’ kind of way.” I chuckled as I looked back at her. Ah. Debt. I should not have said that.
“...sorry. I-uh, I didn’t think about what I was saying.”
“It's fine.” She states, obviously thrown off her rhythm.
“Y’know what I said early wasn’t entirely true.” she shifts back into an upright position. “I’m not here entirely for pleasure.”
“Oh?” I asked, tilting my head slightly.
“I have a... let’s call it a business opportunity.” She took out some papers and a pen and dropped them on the table. I looked at them but I couldn’t perceive them. All feedback. Illegible. For a second I thought I could make out a distinct image of a coin, but I wasn’t certain.
“My... employer could use someone like you. You know, a detective type. Someone to find out the inside scoop.” a beat passes. “I know you said you didn’t want to join the ILB, but maybe you could even end up in it. Imagine that, me and you, we could tear through the whole goddamn league.” She seemed different. More excited maybe? Not quite the Jaylen I saw at the table moments ago, but not the one who was staring me down at the plate either. I wasn’t sure how to feel.
“I’m going to pass Jaylen. I’m not fully sure what I would be getting into, I’d be signing that contract blind. I can’t read a single word on that page.” I’m not sure if my nerves were showing.
“You can’t?” I look up and see her eyes go wide. She’s scared. This is the first time I’ve ever seen, or even heard of Jaylen Hotdogfingers being scared. We both looked back down. I take another sip of my coffee. Jaylen checks her pulse.
“So, I’m waiting on your answer.” I looked back up, for once, visibly confused.
“Jaylen, I just gave it. I said I can’t read it, so no.” I met her eyes once more. Jaylen Hotdogfingers was scared. Again.
“You can’t?” She said it the exact same way as she did moments prior. She checked her pulse, again. As she did I saw her eyes flicker, almost as if a wave was passing over them. She dropped her wrist and suddenly seemed perfectly calm.
“Not responding huh?” She chuckled and got up. “So you’re one of those types then? I get it. This is your way of saying ‘I’ll think about it.’”
She tossed a card on the table.
Jaylen Hotdogfingers,
Zombie, Debted, Pitcher
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“Give me a call sometime, babe.”
She smirked and walked away. She didn’t drink any of her coffee.