Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Stupid piece of SHIT!" Golf Ball yelled in frustration as she threw the thing out of the window, listening to the thunk of it hitting the dumpster below. She was supposed to be good at this, but whether it was from sleep deprivation or the ungodly amount of coffee she drinks every day, the machine wouldn't work. It would just spark and then smoke; she would then promptly turn it off, as to not set her living space on fire.

"Golf Balllll......." The familiar autotuned voice floated to Golf Ball's room, along with its owner, her roommate, Puffball, "GB, What are you still doing up..?" she asked exasperatedly.

She sat on her bed with her signature scowl. "Working >:("

"Working, or tinkering with that hunk of metal?" Puffball replied, raising an eyebrow, unimpressed and unfazed by her roommate's scowl. She was used to Golf Ball's grumpiness. "Speaking of that hunk of metal, where is it?" She murmured curiously as she glanced around her friend's room, not spotting the cause of Golf Ball's late nights.

"It's not just a hunk of metal," She tried to defend the machine, even though that is what it is at the end of the day. Metal, wires, and disappointment, anyway.

"That's all it looked like to me, and that doesn't answer my question. Where did it go?"

"I threw it in the dumpster," Golf Ball said flatly, as if it were the most obvious answer.

"Um, why?" She kept hovering in her place at the doorway. "You've spent so long on that thing, just to throw it away?"  Puffball stated.

"PB, no matter what I did, it wouldn't start," She huffed in frustration. 

"I think you just needed a full eight hours of sleep for once."

"I think you just need to mind your own business." In truth, she did need sleep. Desperately. Both work and tinkering with her devices combined left her with around three or four hours of sleep each night, and it was catching up to her. But she wasn't about to admit that.

"Go to sleep, Golf Ball." If Puffball had hands, she'd be pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance. Almost every night, she was awoken by Golf Ball either yelling at something, like tonight, or just generally making a racket.

"Don't tell me what to do!" If there was anything Golf Ball hated, it would be being bossed around. She could hardly tolerate it when her literal boss did, so she wasn't going to take it from her roommate. She was going to go to sleep, though. It was one in the morning after all. But she wasn't because Puffball told her to!

"And cut down on the coffee."

"Like I am going to do that, do you even know me?" There was no way she was going to stop drinking coffee; it's the only thing that ever got her going.

"Unfortunately, I do."

"Then you should know not to tell me what to do."

"Whatever. Just go to sleep, or I'm making you sleep outside," Puffball threatened as she left her friend's room.

"You can not make me do anything!" She yelled after her.

"You'd be surprised!" Puffball yelled back.

Golf Ball rolled her eyes, but laid back and settled into her bed. 

She had a twin-size bed with just a regular white comforter and sheets. It was boring, according to Puffball, but to her it was just practical. She didn't see the need for 'fun colors' or designs. And that practicalness was the same all around her room. The only sign of individuality was the metal inventions all over her room. She was a self-proclaimed inventor and took pride in her inventions. Well, the ones that worked, anyway.

She displayed finished and unfinished devices alike on her shelves. Those of an unfinished nature were displayed on lower shelves for easy access, being, after all, an armless object. 

The coffee she had ingested earlier was still running through her veins, so it wasn't until an hour and a half later, at two thirty in the morning, that she finally fell asleep.

----

Today was Golf Ball's day off, but even so, she still had work to do. So she went to her preferred place of work, the corner table of a So-Ha Cafe. 

"Bye, PB. I'm heading to So-Ha," She informed her friend as she gathered her things.

"Alright, I'm probably gonna be at Fries' place when you get back."

Golf Ball rolled her eyes. "You sure you are not dating the guy?"

Puffball looked at her friend, deadpan. "GB, I'd rather kiss the ground than him."

"Uh-huh, just let me know when I need to plan a wedding." She knew that Puffball wasn't dating Fries, let alone marrying him, but she couldn't help but tease her.

"Haha. No. Anyway, we still on for book club tonight?" It was really more like a wine club than a book club, but they still talked about books, sometimes. Until they got too drunk and Golf Ball started droning on about tech, and Puffball started talking about boys.

"You know it. I got a bottle of that Yoyleberry and Dreamberry wine everyone has been raving about for tonight, too."

"Oo. I knew I could count on you to get some good wine. But isn't the Dreamberry one, like, expensive as hell?" The cheapest she's ever seen it was at around a hundred and fifty dollars, and the most expensive was pushing a thousand. 

"Oh, yeah. But hey, gotta try it at least once, right?" Golf Ball knew that blowing fifty dollars on a bottle of wine was irresponsible of her and, frankly, not like her. But if she wasn't a coffee-holic, then she was an alcoholic. Plus, Dreamberry wine sounded heavenly.

"You got that right, sister. Oh, hey, Fries is texting, gotta get going." 

"Alright, PB. I'll see you tonight," Golf Ball said as she opened the front door. Of which she'd improved to make it more accessible to her and her roommate. It's just a simple pedal that she had to step on, which would then turn the knob by a simple string system.

"See ya, girl."

---

Golf Ball started down the hallway of her apartment building. The carpet was a tacky shade of red with an equally tacky design, and the walls were a plain, popcorn-textured white. While she wasn't the princess of interior design, she knew a thing or two about it. Definitely a thing or two more than whoever designed this god forsaken building. Every time she looked at the carpet, she couldn't help but think how much better it would look if it were dark gray. No 'fun colors' and especially NO 'fun designs'. 

Of course, she didn't hate fun. Golf Ball just didn't see the necessity for such designs. She often went for minimalist meets sad beige mom meets mad scientist.

A light flickered in front of her; even the lights were shitty.

Golf Ball clicked the call button on the elevator with her foot and waited for it to arrive on the fifth floor. She hoped that no one would be in there when it arrived. Golf Ball desperately wanted to avoid awkward small talk. Those hopes were squashed when the doors opened.

She stepped in beside those who were already inside the elevator and clicked the ground floor button.

"Hi, Golf Ball," waved one half of the couple standing next to her.

"Hello, Leafy," she murmured tiredly. Coffee was at the front of her mind right now, not small talk. She glanced back at the other half, "and Firey."

"Hey, GB," Firey waved. 

Golf Ball hummed in acknowledgment, but kept her eyes trained solely on the door, silently willing it to open, and cursed out those who invented small talk. 

"Um, how have you been?" Leafy, the girlfriend of the flame, spoke up.

"Can't complain," She replied monotonously. "You?" Golf Ball added with an eyebrow raise. 

"I've been great!" The leaf answered enthusiastically.

"Good for you," The coffee-deprived ball snarked back.

Golf Ball thanked her lucky stars when the doors opened, thus providing her with an escape route from this conversation. 

"See you later!" Leafy paused, "Maybe we can hang out sometime?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Goll Ball dismissed as the doors closed behind her.

"I don't think she wants to hang out," Firey muttered to his girlfriend as he watched Golf Ball walk away from the closing doors.

"Not at all," Leafy muttered back to her boyfriend.

---

Golf Ball walked through the bustling streets of Yoyle City, toying with the idea of hanging out with Leafy. Normally, such an idea would make her scoff and decline, but Puffball always said she needed more friends, so..

"Lexi," she said to her headpiece, which activated at the command. "Send a text to Leafy."

"Sending a text to LEAFY, what would you like it to say?" The device asked.

"I'm free next weekend. We could plan something then, if you'd like."

"Okay. Sent," Lexi informed.

"Thank you, Lexi," Golf Ball responded.

"Anytime."

Lexi was another one of Golf Ball's more useful inventions. Since she was an armless object, it was difficult to use a phone. So a headpiece that acted as a phone was the next best thing. It did come with its own set of problems, though. Like, with an AI you crafted yourself, you'd have to program out the ungodly amount of bugs, form it to your exact needs and personality. But, of course, it was no big deal for the awesome and smart Golf Ball. 

Ding! "You have ONE message from LEAFY. Would you like me to read it out loud?" Lexi droned.

That was quick. Golf Ball thought. "Uh, yes, please." 

"Ok," Lexi replied. "Wow. I did NOT think you'd agree. How is Saturday?"

Golf Ball let out a huff of amusement and replied, "Lexi, send a message to Leafy."

"Ok, what would you like it to say?"

"Yeah, I didn't think so either. Saturday sounds good. You decide what we do, because if it were up to me, I'd be halfway through a bottle of wine by now," she rambled.

"Ok, sent," Lexi informed.

"Thank you."

"Anytime, Golf Ball."

After the conversation with both Lexi and Leafy, Golf Ball continued through the hordes of people in the streets of Yoyle City and to So-Ha Cafe, where she'd finally find peace and quiet. 

--

Inside she'd find the regular sight of  her favorite place. The walls were white, the floor wood, and the smell, oh, the smell, it was coffee and freshly baked bread and other baked goods. 

Golf Ball appreciated the minimalist style of the shop, but it was a different... more, good-looking style than what you'd expect from the owner, Flower. If anyone has seen her failed clothing line, then they probably wouldn't associate this cafe with her. 

And if you must know what the clothing looked like. It looked like, and not to be too crass here, a person who thinks ugly Christmas sweaters are cute, and then somehow made them look even uglier than they already did.

Ugly fashion and beautiful cafe aside, Golf Ball loved this cafe and her spot in the corner.

"The usual, Golf Ball?" The waiter asked.

"Yes, Lolly," she replied. 

"Ha! We're close, but not that close."

Golf Ball looked up at her waiter, unamused. "Lollipop."

"Thanks," The lollipop replied. "I'll be right back with that coffee for you," she left her with a wink, then walked off to take others' orders.

Then, he walked in.

(Word count: 1932)

Chapter Text

She didn't notice it at first as she was distracted by the fact that he seemed to almost attract attention like a magnet; unfortunately for her, that included her attention as well. He was a regular tennis ball, an attention magnet, and seemed like the kind of guy to have a perpetual smile on his face. Those kinds of people annoyed her most.

The waiters, cashiers, and even some of the patrons smiled and waved at him. It was obvious the guy was a regular, but if that was the case, why had Golf Ball never seen him around before? She wasn't a regular in the sense of coming every day, but she came here enough that she had to have seen him. Though it could have been that she was too engulfed in her work to notice her surroundings. That happened more often than she'd like to admit.

Then, she happened to glance up.

It wasn't broken or covered in filth; it was so shiny, she was sure she could see her own reflection in it if she looked. The joints moved fluidly, whirring mechanically.

How in the world did he get it working?

But also, why in the hell does he have her invention? Her failed little project.

Was she impressed? Perhaps. But was she pissed? Oh, hell yes. What gave the guy the right to take her invention?? Maybe she did throw it in the dumpster, maybe it did reek of disappointment last night, though, really, if she just got a full night's sleep, and tinkered with it for a few more hours, she probably would've been able to get it working.

Golf Ball, before she could convince herself otherwise, got up from her seat and made her way to the fuzzy ball.

"Excuse me?" Golf Ball said to him sharply, stopping him before he could reach the counter.

He turned to her, surprised by the sharpness in her tone and the fact that he didn't know her. "Uh. Hi?"

"Yeah, hi." She spat out. She had no time for pleasantries. "Why in the hell do you have that?" Golf Ball asked bluntly.

"First of all, don't cuss at me, second of all, have what?"

Was he playing dumb, or was he really that dense? "That. The arm."

"Oh, this thing? I found it in a dumpster," he responded, matter-of-factly.

"And it 'magically' started working?" Golf Ball interrogated, as she narrowed her eyes accusingly.

Tennis Ball was a bit perplexed by the questions, but still, he continued to answer them. "No? I don't have access to magic. I fixed it up myself!"

Maybe he's not that dense. "What- well, the thing is still mine!-" She blurted out.

"The 'thing' you're referring to is an impressive technological- wait, you built this??" Tennis Ball gasped, his eyes lighting up in fascination.

"Yes! So can I have it back?"

"It was in the trash. That's fair game. Plus, I fixed it." The fascination in his eyes dulled to a stubborn look.

"Well, I built it," Golf Ball glared at the other ball. Though something about the fuzzy ball of sunshine almost made her unable to be mad at him. Almost.

"Then, I don't want to give it back," he replied stubbornly.

"I'll call the police!"

"You know darn well they won't do anything," He pointed out. His refusal to cuss was truly astonishing. They're adults. Cussing won't get you in trouble with your mommy.

"Why are our police horrible at their jobs?" She groaned in annoyance. Why did the man have to have a point?

The YCPD, or the Yoyle City Police Department, truly weren't great at their jobs; despite that, crime rates weren't all that high, surprisingly.

There's no point in killing when anyone can just be recovered.

Everyone and their dog (that's an idiom, obviously; dogs can't own a recovery center) owned a FOURX Recovery Center™, so murder was at the level of, say, theft. Which was fucked up, but that's their reality. Of course, repeat offenders would be jailed.

But that comes with the risk that the recovery centers could stop working. If that happened, we'd all be in big, big trouble.

"Sigh, I know. It's a shame." Tennis Ball sighed. "Anyway, I gotta order my stuff. Bye, stranger," He added with a sly smile gracing his mouth.

She grumbled something, probably a curse, then spoke, "My name is Golf Ball!"

"Tennis Ball!" He replied with that same smile as he approached the counter.

She huffed, "Whatever."

At least she knew the thief's name now.

Golf Ball, shamefully without her device, returned to her table, where her coffee was already sitting.

After a moment, her phone dinged within her bag. Curious, she removed it and checked the notification.

It was a text from Tree. It was odd; they've never really talked before, so why has he contacted her now?

Tree

I was told to contact you by a friend.

Tree

She was hoping you could help with something.

You

Help with what?

Tree

She says there's something wrong with the sky, like it's cracking.

Tree

Here are some of her notes.

Tree attached a picture of a whiteboard with some notes scribbled over it. Golf Ball, assuming it would be a whole of nothing, didn't give the picture her time of day.

You

Yeah, no. Sounds like drugs.

You

This friend of yours is probably a nutjob.

You

Get her off hallucinogens.

Tree

She's not on drugs.

She promptly blocked him without responding. Golf Ball wasn't going to feed into Tree's friend's delusions.

---

After two hours and three coffees, she finally finished writing her report, due on Four's desk by tomorrow.

Golf Ball worked at FOURX Tech Industries, which produced and sold recovery centers. Among other ventures.

Golf Ball's now finished report was a review of the recent sales of their newest tech product, the Fourse. Not to be confused with the actual living, breathing animal, it was a mechanical horse. Aimed at younger people, it did find success, though not the success Four was hoping for.

She really doesn't know what they were expecting. A recovery center company coming out with a mechanical horse aimed at younger kids?

She left the cafe, her mood still sour from the encounter with Tennis Ball. But she also left with a begrudging respect for him. He did manage to fix the device after all. There weren't many in the city that could do that; the only people she could think of that could even attempt to would be Basketball and... well, just Basketball, actually. But she wasn't really around anymore.

So she almost found herself welcoming the new competition.

She was going to prove she was better than him, whether he liked it or not.

Golf Ball kept down the street, mentally building an invention far more impressive. Something that could make anything out of thin air. Or maybe a laser blaster. Or a robot assistant, like Lexi, but with a robot body. She stopped in her brainstorming when the posters caught her eye. More specifically, the new one.

The new addition to the community wall was a poster for Gaty.

The missing persons cases started popping up about seven months ago, more or less. Following the M.O. of, well, just vanishing. No body, no blood, no scream, just... gone. Most think the missing people are dead, including Golf Ball; she knew some still held hope, even though it was futile in her eyes.

She looked over the wall, examining the cases.

First, went Bomby. Evidenced by the old, weathered paper and the last-seen date.

January first.

Then, Bell. Last seen, February fifteenth.

Ice cube, March seventeenth.

Fanny, April twenty-ninth. (My b-day 🤭)

Barf Bag, May ninth.

Needle, June nineteenth

Basketball, July twenty-third.

Now, apparently, Gaty was gone too - August tenth, just a week ago.

Eight gone, in eight months. At this point, it wasn't a question of if someone else would go missing; it was a question of when. Next month, there will be another poster, another bond broken, another object-shaped hole in the heart of the city. Golf Ball sometimes feared it would be her the following month. Lying awake late at night, wondering if someone was watching her through the window or the crack in her closet, ready to kill or take her. Would anyone besides Puffball look for her? Selfishly, she often prayed, Anyone else but me.

Underneath the confident, unshakable bravado was someone who was scared like everyone else. Scared of being taken away from the life she's known, scared of having her fate in the hands of another.

Golf Ball finally tore her gaze away from the posters, trying to shake away the increasingly negative thoughts. At least she was safe for the last of the month. That was positive, right?

But that didn't stop her from thinking on the way home, what if they decided there'd be a second this month? Of course, that would be crazy, right? Why would they change their pattern when it's been the same for the past eight months?

Wow, Golf Ball's overthinking really came in clutch this time.

She stepped up to her apartment building and looked up. It was a tall building, ranging, oddly, eleven floors and sixty rooms. Her's was on the fifth floor, room thirty.

The first floor was the lobby, with a pool and gym, neither of which she visited. Inside the gym were two other objects, Snowball and Blocky.

Snowball used to be sort of a jerk, but since becoming friends with Grassy, he's been somewhat nicer. And Blocky was... well, still Blocky, but a little less Blocky, for lack of better words. His show, Blocky's Funny Doings International, was still going strong, though the pranks were nicer and funnier, contrasting with the show's earlier episodes, which were filled with cruel and unfunny pranks. Golf Ball assumed the change was due to Woody.

Snowball waved at Golf Ball through the window as he ran on the treadmill. She gave a nod in response. Either the action of waving or paying attention to her mere passing presence distracted him, because he mistepped and went flying off the treadmill into the wall. Blocky came tumbling soon after.

Snowball gave a weak thumbs-up from where he was slowly sliding down the wall in a comedic fashion.

Blocky stayed where he was on the floor, face down.

Golf Ball laughed and walked right past the mess, not even bothering to check if they were ok. That wasn't something she did, ever. She was, what you would probably call, emotionally inept. Golf Ball never really knew how to comfort people or ask if they're ok, which is why she tried to avoid it entirely.

If someone was hurt or crying, she'd turn the other way (and/or laugh, depending on the situation).

Was she a bad person? Debatable.

The elevator she was waiting for finally opened, luckily empty for her to slip inside.

The metal box rattled its way up to the fifth floor, where she swiftly exited and power walked to her apartment. Golf Ball unlocked room thirty and quickly relocked it after entering.

She discarded her bag onto the floor of the living room and flopped onto the couch. After decompressing for a moment on the couch, she sat up and clicked on the TV, turning on Romance on Dream Island, a shitty dating show that she couldn't stop watching.

She'd be lying if she said her guilty pleasure wasn't trashy reality shows.

Golf Ball didn't know how long she watched Romance on Dream Island, but before she knew it, Puffball had returned with Fries, which she wasn't too happy about.

Nevertheless, she continued watching the dramatic shit show, snuggled up on the couch.

"I'm back! And with a plus one!" Puffball exclaimed as she floated into the same room as Golf Ball.

"Obviously, I could have heard you two walking in from Goiky," she retorted lazily, eyes trained on the screen.

Puffball rolled her eyes, "I will tell the office you watch Romance on Dream Island."

"And I'll hack your TwoTwice account and cancel you," Golf Ball threatened back.

"Touche, bitch."

"If I had hands, I'd flip you off."

"But you do-on't!" she sang as she floated to her room, Fries trailing behind.

"Fuck you!" Golf Ball yelled after her.

"Fuck you too!" Puffball replied.

"Hey," Fries greeted casually.

"Hey," Golf Ball replied, uninterestedly.

The two made their way into Puffball's room, as Golf Ball continued watching the show, as if nothing had happened.

--

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful; Golf Ball finished watching season three of Romance on Dream Island while doodling up potential inventions to build.

Puffball and Fries were probably getting stoned in her room and/or playing some sort of board game. Or gambling. It was probably all of the above.

Golf Ball never really knew what her roommate got up to lately.

Based on the time and based on the fact that nothing had happened for the past several hours, and the fact that Puffball was probably high anyway. It seemed 'book club' was off. Which, honestly, she was thankful for. She didn't feel like getting drunk tonight.

That damn tennis ball was still stuck in her head.

She knew herself. If she got drunk, she'd run her mouth and eventually, the name Tennis Ball would tumble out, and Puffball would either A. Tease her relentlessly, B. Ask five million questions, or C. All of the fucking above. And Golf Ball wasn't about that tonight.

Nighttime eventually rolled around, and Golf Ball decided to go to bed early, because for once, she didn't really have much else to do today.

She padded into her room, making sure to stay quiet, since she was ninety percent sure Puffball and Fries were sleeping. It's been very quiet the past few hours.

The room was exactly how she left it this morning. Clean, plain, perfect.

She lay down in her bed, quickly falling asleep.

--

It was around three in the morning when she was woken up. Golf Ball glanced around groggily, wondering what had woken her up.

"This ain't... Hey, Golf Ball." He waved.

"Fries, what are you doing in my room?"

"Where's the... The piss room?" He asked.

"You mean the bathroom?" Golf Ball corrected.

"Yeah," He waved his hand around as if trying to emphasize his words, "the shitter."

"The toilet. Ok, it's to the left. First door next to the kitchen, can't miss it," she directed.

He nodded, "Got it." But Fries didn't leave. He stayed in her doorway, looking out the window.

"Fries." She tried to catch his attention with her voice, but to no avail.

"The sky," he announced suddenly, his eyes trained outside.

"The sky?" She glanced out her window. "Nothing is wrong with the sky."

He added, unnervingly serious, "Something is wrong."

"You're high. Go piss and go back to bed," she stated sternly, putting on her mom voice she used mostly with her roommate.

Fries looked over at her with genuine concern in his eyes, but he obliged and slunked out of her room, giving the sky one last glance.

She went back to bed, slightly troubled from the interruption. It was obvious nothing was wrong with the sky, but something about the way Fries seemed so freaked out by whatever he saw stuck with Golf Ball.

She didn't want to admit it, but it freaked her out a little, too.

Nothing was wrong. She tried telling herself. He's probably just on the new Dreamberry stuff. Hallucinations.

She eventually fell asleep, thinking about what he could have seen.

SOMEWHERE.

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(Word count: 2535)

Chapter Text

SATURDAY: FOUR DAYS LATER.

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PENCIL

Pencil woke up that morning, numb, but with a pounding headache. She could hardly feel it, despite that. It was like each throb was coming from somewhere far in the distance: an ominous drum beating, beating, beating. 

Something was off today, she could feel it. From the way the sun seemed to shine through the curtains, to the way the air felt around her. It wasn't right.

She went through her morning routine instinctively, trying to ignore how everything felt wrong. She brushed her teeth with a toothbrush long overdue for a change, did her skin care, and began her makeup.

As she was applying mascara, she noticed something odd in her reflection. It was delayed. Not exactly matching her movements. Pencil stopped and looked closer. Mirrors didn't have delays. She's looked in them long enough to know. She looked as if the mirror had the answers to the universe. 

The reflection stopped suddenly and stared her down. Pencil jumped back in fear, the mascara wand falling from her hand. Her reflection didn't move at all. 

Then, it smiled at her. It looked down at her as if she were a bug, snickering as it smashed her under its foot. It was unnerving. Everything about this was unnerving.

Unnerving? That wasn't the right word. There wasn't a word that could explain this. This was beyond reasoning. 

Before she knew it, she was watching herself finish her makeup. 

Surely, she was hallucinating. Having a mental breakdown? Dreaming? This wasn't right. This can't be real. Coma? Did she ram her car into a tree last night, putting her into a coma?

Pencil never believed in anything beyond. Ghosts, demons, the Boogeyman, she wasn't religious whatsoever. Not even as a child did she believe in monsters. Santa and the Tooth Fairy never stood a chance against her, either. Could she have been wrong? Was there something out there that was now tormenting her?

Was this an elaborate prank set up by Blocky, perhaps?

She felt like she was watching herself go through her life from a spectator window somewhere above. But she was also in her body. 

Perhaps lucid dreaming?

She clenched her fist. Her fist clenched. Ok, that was a start. She was in her body to some extent. She looked down and saw herself exiting her apartment. 

She seemed to be a woman on a mission. Pencil was power walking and pushing past anyone who got in her way. She had an idea of where she was going. Her friends. But why? Why was she so eager to get to them? 

She stopped walking. Her body did not obey. She continued walking.

Why couldn't she stop walking? She tried and tried, but she wasn't in control. 

Something was wrong with her. Did she need a doctor? A psychiatrist? Something else? How long before she did something bad out of her control? What kind of undiagnosed mental illness did she have?

She didn't even notice what was happening as she curled up into her panicking mind. 

Pencil entered her workplace, TwoTwice Corp, where she worked with a variety of her friends. Ruby, Book, Bubble, Ice cube, and her absolute best friend, Match.

TwoTwice was a short-form content sharing platform where people posted things like dances, unboxings, fails—those were some of her personal favorites—and much more. It's been under some scrutiny lately, due to being buggy and some allegations of stealing personal information. 

The allegations weren't true; people like to make up stuff, but it's been running the company's popularity to the ground. Two's tried their hardest to deflect the rumors; however, because of the recent incident, they've seemingly given up and have hardly been seen online as of late. 

Match waved at her from the front desk, "Like, hey, Pence-Pence!"

Pencil's hand did not raise to greet her friend, though she wanted it to; instead, she continued walking, staying silent. She felt a need to get to her boss, and Match was in the way. Why did she have to get to her friend, then her boss? There was a distant thought floating around her head. Ruin everything. 

What did it mean? Why was she thinking that? What was she wanting to ruin?

"You- Your makeup, like, looks different today. I like it!" Match stuttered, noticing her friend's response, or lack thereof. 

"And your makeup looks like shit today," Pencil retorted almost instantly.

One down, one to go. She thought in the same part of her brain that said 'ruin everything.' 

Then it clicked.

They weren't her thoughts.

Match in stunned silence as best friend walked past her, following her usual route to their boss's office.

TWO

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Two, the beloved CEO of TwoTwice, sat in their reclined chair—a habit they had developed over the past week. 

They'd sleep, or stare up at the ceiling, or a wall, or really anything else that could be stared at for a long period without obliterating their retinas, and stay there in their comfy seat for days. 

They knew their employees wondered what was wrong, why they hadn't left their office. Truth is, they really can't. Whether it was from the mental or physical constraints, they just couldn't. Or maybe wouldn't was the word.

Two couldn't muster up the strength to get up, let alone get home. Hell, they could hardly pick up a piece of pizza that had been sitting out for a day. They weren't proud of eating that.

They weren't proud of any of their latest actions. They had a business to run, and instead, they were surrounded by trash and old food. They knew it'd be selfish to make their assistants clean up after them, so they ordered it to just be left for themself to clean when they got the motivation. If they ever got the motivation.

However, they knew that those were just excuses. That wasn't the only reason they wouldn't go home. 

Gaty wasn't there anymore. She hasn't been since that night.

"It's all your fault."

"Gaty is gone because of you."

"Everyone is gone because of you."

"It's all your fault, Two."

"You'll never see her again."

"You didn't even say bye."

"You just left."

"You did this to yourself."

The thoughts swan around in their mind like a festering parasite determined on draining every ounce of energy within them until they're a shell of themself.

Though sometimes, in a rare moment of not drowning in self-pity and guilt, the thoughts almost didn't feel like their own. 

Like they were being put into their head by someone else. 

But they chalked it up to their subconscious trying not to let themself be pulled under by the waves of guilt. Even though their head was barely above in the first place. 

Their attention was directed to the sound of their office door opening. 

"Mh... Hey, Pencil," they waved a hand to their assistant, "Lovely to see you... Mind grabbing me a water?" 

"I do happen to mind, old friend," she responded in a voice they knew all too well.

PUFFBALL: FOUR DAYS PRIOR.

Fries drove them to Puffball's apartment from his place, for obvious reasons. No hands, no legs. They had decided they'd hang out there for a while. 

His car absolutely reeked of cigarette smoke. Sure, she did weed quite a bit and meth occasionally, but, for some reason, she drew the line at cigarettes. 

Obviously, her friend didn't. 

He had one hand on the wheel and the other holding a cigarette. At least he had the decency to roll down the window and blow the smoke out there.

Fries parked in the parking garage, and together, they made their way to Puffball's apartment.

After a lovely conversation with her lovely roommate, they went into her room. 

"PB, look what I got," he waved a little baggy of blue crystals.

She raised an eyebrow in response, "Crystal meth? What's so special about it? We've done it before."

"Not meth, look," the crystals glinted in the light, shining purple and pink, plus the initial blue color.

Puffball's eyes widened, "Is that the dreamberry stuff? How the fuck did you get this?"

"I know a guy," he replied proudly.

"You know a lot of guys, you're gayer than Blocky."

"Go to hell," he spat brusquely.

"I'm already there, man," she drawled.

--

It was one in the morning when Puffball woke up, still high and out of it. Fries was on the floor, sleeping soundly. Most of his fries were halfway on the ground, scattered at various angles. The moon shone through the one window in her room, casting a light across her friend's face. 

The silence of the night was calm. She paused. Too calm. Too quiet. No bugs, no wind, she assumed her roommate was asleep. Everything was still. Except for Fries and the rise and fall of his chest. She felt a breeze; it was cold. The window wasn't open, she noticed. Where was the breeze coming from?

Her eyes drifted past the window and to the sky. She could barely see the skyline, even though she was only on the fifth floor. Some buildings were still alive despite the time. It was dark out with speckles of stars.

Beyond the buildings and the stars, there was a patch of pitch black. It almost looked like... A crack. 

A crack in the sky.

...

What did Fries give me? She thought incredulously.

GOLF BALL: PRESENT DAY.

Annoying leaf

"Still on for tonight? >u<" 

You

"I don't have anything else to do." 

Annoying leaf

"I'll take that as a yes. :p"

Annoying leaf

"Where do you wanna go? :)"

You

"Eraser's Beefhome."

You

"Also, your use of emoticons is sickening."

Annoying leaf

"🖕"

Annoying leaf

"Why that place anyway?? It's literally a copy of Gelatin's Steakhouse."

You

"They have good margaritas. Plus, Gelatin's Steakhouse doesn't even serve alcohol."

Annoying leaf

"Good point u_u"

Annoying leaf

"See you at 6 :D"

You

"Ok."

Golf Ball threw her phone to the foot of her bed. She hated using the thing. But since she was a twenty-seven-year-old adult with a life, a phone was a necessity. The only apps on it were the apps it came with and Cube Explosion, a game where she just had to place blocks to destroy either vertical or horizontal rows of said blocks. Her high score was 276,300, a high score she was quite proud of despite hating mobile games.

Don't even get her started on social media.

"GOLF BALL," Puffball yelled unnecessarily loud for being right outside her room, "THE SEASON SEVEN PREMIERE OF [generic dating show title] IS RIGHT NOW."

"Ok?" she looked at the time, "I may have time for an episode."

"Time? Are you going out? With who?? Without me??" Puffball exclaimed, becoming increasingly flabbergasted.

"I'm going to Eraser's Beefhome to meet up with Leafy," she replied flatly, then added, "And yes, without you."

"Rude," her roommate huffed. "When?"

She answered, "At six."

6:00: RG'H HLLM - [IVWZXGVW]

Golf Ball stepped into the establishment right on the dot. Despite trying to be a rip-off of Gelatin's Steakhouse, it was less of a restaurant and more of a ratty dive bar that served food with the drinks. Not that she was complaining, dive bars were her natural habitat. 

Along with a lab and her room.

She sat down in one of the old, cracking leather seats at the bar and ordered a favorite of hers, a Yoyleberry margarita - she had a feeling she'd need one tonight.

Leafy ended up being an impressive thirty minutes late, simultaneously pissing off Golf Ball and making her curious as to why the fuck she was so late.

Leafy hurried her way to her friend after spotting the ball through the crowd.

"I am so sorry," she apologized hastily after taking a spot next to Golf Ball, "I got caught up in the news and oh my yellow tomato, it was so crazy!"

The fast-talking leaf paused, then added, "Have you heard?"

Taking a sip of her drink, Golf Ball sighed, "No. I have not. I don't watch the news much, and I'd rather kill myself than download social media."

"Right, well, I don't give a flying fuck," she pulled her phone from her purse and turned it on, "Look."

A news article popped up, titled,

"CEO OF TWOTWICE REPORTED MISSING THIS MORNING."

"When employee, Match, came up to their boss's office after hearing a crash, she found an upturned office; an apparent sign of a struggle.-" It went on, but she had all she needed to know.

"Two is fucking missing?" Golf Ball blurted out.

"And that's not all, read here," Leafy scolled down and pointed to a paragraph.

"'...I just found her lying there.' Match went on to state, 'Pencil told me she didn't remember anything besides waking up this morning, and waking up on the floor of Two's office...'"

"What the hell?" She muttered, confused, "You think Pencil had something to do with this?"

"It's a possibility. I mean, it's pretty damn suspicious to be found in the same place, at the same time, might I add, that your boss went missing," Leafy theorized.

"No. Absolutely fucking not. There is no fucking way a regular object could take on an algebralien," she denied.

"Remember, though," she began reading off a different piece of the article, "After the recent disappearance of their wife, Gaty, Two was reportedly left in a weakened, depressive state."

Golf Ball looked at her friend, silently bewildered for a moment, "They were fucking married?"

"..Yes? Don't you keep up with this shit?" Leafy asked in disbelief.

"What do you think the serious fucking answer to that question is, Leafy?" she responded as if it were the stupidest question ever. Like asking if water was wet. Obviously not. 

"I'll take that as a no..." The leaf trailed off, "They've been married for like, a year now. Honestly, it's impressive how out of the loop you are."

Golf Ball ignored Leafy's comment and thought for a second before asking, "Is Pencil in custody?"

"I don't think so. Why?" Leafy tilted her head. 

"What if she is the person making people go missing? As you said, she's pretty damn suspicious."

"I mean, it could be anyone, really. Pencil would just be higher on that list."

"I think I will stay away from her, just to be safe," she decided, taking another sip from her drink.

"Good idea," Leafy nodded in agreement as she waved down the bartender. 

Golf Ball glanced around the area as Leafy proceeded to make conversation with the bartender. 

The lights were turned dim, making a warm, dingy atmosphere. There was some water damage on the ceiling, along with... was that mold? The walls were adorned with pictures of alcohol brands and Eraser and some of his friends.

Some of the customers chatted quietly amongst themselves, while others sat alone. Snowball was one of the objects sitting alone, a half-full beer bottle in hand, and two other empty ones nearby. He seemed to be drunkenly flirting with one of the other bartenders, a male slushie. (my oc!!)

The dynamic piqued her interest, so she continued eavesdropping.

It didn't seem like the slushie was reciprocating much; he just seemed amused as he listened to the drunk's messy flirting. 

"What're you looking at?" Leafy asked.

"Snowball and that bartender, I didn't know he was into guys."

Leafy raised an eyebrow, as if to say, Why are you watching them? 

Golf Ball added, "What? I'm a people watcher."

"Fair. Anyway, Miss. Out of the Loop, Snowball, and the bartender, Freezie, are dating. Have been for... I wanna say a month or two?"

"Ok, now I am concerned as to why you know this."

Leafy explained, "It's called 'chronically online.'"

"Of course, it is," Golf Ball sighed, finishing off her drink.

---

The conversation switched topics so many times that Golf Ball, who was known for being good with numbers, couldn't even keep track.

Leafy had filled her in, to her dismay, on pretty much all of the Internet gossip and 'tea'. 

She had to see this girl's screen time.

Eventually, the ball zoned out, staring past the leaf and out a window behind her.

At this point, it was 7:45, and she was tipsy, but not drunk. She could probably still drive, right? All she could think about was going home and forgetting the onslaught of information getting thrown at her.

"GOLF BALL," Leafy snapped her fingers in front of her face, "this is important information I'm telling you!"

"At this point, it is just background noise..." She groaned, "Please shut the fuck up."

"Rude...-" 

Golf Ball had already tuned her out again, training her attention on the people around her. 

Leafy sat sipping on her drink, silently this time.

Snowball still held Freezie's attention.

Everyone else chatted quietly with their groups.

Barbecue Sauce, their bartender, went over to Freezie and tapped his shoulder.

Once his attention was torn away from his boyfriend, Barbecue Sauce pointed outside and muttered, "You see that, right?"

Golf Ball, even though she had no part in the conversation, looked to where the bartender pointed.

At first, she didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but as she turned her gaze to the sky, there was something abnormal. 

Something that if she didn't see it with her own eyes, she wouldn't have believed it.

She thought whatever Tree was talking about was bullshit, drug-induced delusions.

But it wasn't. 

Because the sky,

Was cracking.

8:00, THE RIFT.

.-..-. -.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / --- ..- .-. / .-.. .- ... - / .... --- .--. . --..-- / --. --- .-.. ..-. / -... .- .-.. .-.. .-.-.- .-..-. / -....- / -.--. .-. . -.. .- -.-. - . -.. -.--.-

"BLF XZMMLG HGLK GSV RMVERGZYOV. BLF'IV LMOB WVOZBRMT DSZG'H YVVM YLFMW GL SZKKVM HRMXV SV GIZKKVW NV RM GSZG SVOO."

Chapter Text

MATCH: THAT MORNING.

Match was left reeling after the insult. It was so... abrupt. Unexpected.

It hurt. 

Was her makeup bad? 

Surely, Pencil didn't mean it, though. She was just having an off day. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Ran out of coffee this morning.

But something in her told her that her friend meant every word.

Suddenly, she heard a distant yell from Two's office, "PENCIL!" 

Multiple crashes.

The sound of shattering glass.

Concerned and a little scared, Match called security, but then, against her better judgment, began going up to their office herself, her curiosity taking hold. 

The walk up to Two's office was never very long. It was only two floors up. But now it felt unusually long. Like the staircases were extending to prevent her from getting to where she needed to be. Maybe it was her nerves. What would she find? 

Match opened the door slowly, as if expecting to find something horrible inside. Knowing she'd find something at least less-than-good inside.

And horrible, she did find.

Inside their office was a mess. Chairs were flung across the room. Their desk was nowhere to be seen. Dead plants and dirt spilled over the floor. Blast marks on the wall behind where Two's desk would've been. There was even a shattered window. 

What was even worse was that Two was gone. Nowhere to be seen.

And lying unconscious in the middle of it all was Pencil with an ugly, angry, bleeding gash across her forehead.

PENCIL:

The writing utensil's eyes cracked open, the light hurting them. She sat up shakily.

Her head throbbed as she felt a warm liquid trickling down her head. Her hand weakly came up to touch the tender area, and when it came back, her fingertips were coated with blood. 

"What...? Where... Where am I?" She murmured as she glanced down at her blood-coated fingers. "What, like... Happened?" 

"You, like, tell me," a sharp voice broke through the silence, making her head throb again.

"Match..." She dragged her gaze to her friend, who was still standing in the doorway. Still pretty out of it, she asked in a tone barely above a whisper, "How bad is my head?..." 

Match's face softened into a wince of sympathy as she saw the wound in better view, "like, bad," she answered, stepping closer, the natural urge to help her friend rearing its head. The match was about to kneel in front of her friend to help before remembering she was upset.

And scared.

Match took a step back. 

Pencil took notice of the fear etched into her friend's face and called out her name. "Match?"

"What did you do?" Match begged.

She glanced around the office, the chairs on the wrong side of the room, the broken window, the fallen plants, and the burn marks on the wall. "I-"

At that moment, security had made their way to the office.

They halted in their steps, looking around the destroyed room in bewilderment.

Then, she passed out.

---

Pencil woke up in a hospital bed; the lights were bright, and they hurt her eyes more than the ones in Two's office did. 

At first, she really thought she was looking towards the light, and not at a light.

She wasn't dead. That was good, right?

Pencil reached her hand up to her forehead. She felt stitches where the wound would have been. The thread that now adorned her face was rough compared to her skin. Her hand came back down, clean.

The pencil sat up groggily, taking a half-assed glance around her room. It was just a standard hospital room; she had nothing to say about it. 

On the bedside table were little gifts and trinkets from her friends. Balloons, chocolates, cards, and even a stuffed bear. 

How long was she out?

A syringe walked into the room, carrying a clipboard. "Good morning." 

She muttered weakly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, "M-morning? What's... Yeah, what's the date?" 

"It's still August 23rd. You've been asleep for a few hours," The nurse responded.

"Oh."

"Look, the wound was only a flesh wound, so we were able to stitch it up pretty well," he glanced at his clipboard, "You should see yourself out in an hour or two. Whenever the paperwork is done and the questioning is over."

"Questioning?"

"You were the sole witness in the disappearance of Two."

--

"You're saying you don't remember anything from 6 am this morning to 7 am?" The officer confirmed.

Pencil shifted uncomfortably in her bed, "That's correct."

Her head throbbed.

"Which just so happened to be the exact timeframe Two was attacked and kidnapped?" He raised an eyebrow. 

"I don't, like, know what you're implying, but I didn't, like, do anything!" She exclaimed.

At least, I don't think so?

He stated calmly, "You're innocent until proven guilty. We just want the facts."

"And the facts are, I DIDN'T FUCKING DO ANYTHING!" Pencil exploded.

"Ma'am, please calm down-" The officer begged softly, as if trying not to rile her up more.

"HOW THE FUCK COULD I HAVE KIDNAPPED THEM IF I WAS UNCONSCIOUS ON THE FLOOR?! HUH? EVER FUCKING THINK OF THAT, IMBECILE?"

"Ma'am.."

"No. Further. Comment," she grit out, seething.

The officer backed out of her hospital room, cautious of her next move, as if she were an unpredictable animal.

Just as the door closed, she could see the curious stares of those who heard the yelling.

---

Pencil, somehow, had been released barely an hour later, with a bottle of antibiotics and a pat on the back. Like a mother bird kicking her babies out of the nest once they can fly with nothing but the feathers on their backs.

She bitterly stomped her way down the sidewalk. How could they think she did this? 

And the way Match looked at her... She was scared. 

Her best friend was scared of her. 

Passersby walked around her, as if trying to avoid her. 

"Wasn't she the one who attacked Two?"

"In my eyes, she's one hundred percent guilty."

"Personally, I think she did it."

"She should rot in jail for what she did to them."

Rumors spread like wildfire in Yoyle City. Catching onto anything it could. As much as Pencil hated to admit it, she took part in gossip. Adding gasoline to the already devastating fire.

Now, karma has come for her. Turning her into the hottest new gossip. 

Karma's a bitch, right, Pencil?

She hugged herself, desperately trying to tune out the whispers. The stares. 

The sidewalk ahead seemed to twist and narrow, as if sensing her inner turmoil, the edges of her vision grew darker. 

She stumbled to the ground, tumbling upside down, then to the left, right, as if the world was flipping. 

It was pitch dark as she tumbled over some unseen solid surface. 

Pencil felt her stitches split when she landed on the floor of a room. 

"Fuck..." Blood trickled down her face. 

"You were a tough nut to crack," a voice snickered in the darkness.

The pencil twirled around, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice. "Who's there?!"

"Awe, don't you recognize my voice?" She felt a presence behind her and the feeling of breath on the side of her face as the voice whispered in her ear, "Ruin everything." 

Pencil exclaimed when she realized, "You. You're the voice in my head!"

Blood reached her mouth. It tasted metallic.

"Somebody give the girl a medal! She figured it out," they said condescendingly.

Pencil groaned in pain when her head throbbed.

"Here, let me fix that," the voice offered.

There was a blue light that shone in front of her before her flesh began to mold together with sickening squelches and noises.

Like it was healing in real time.

Her hand shot up the touch the skin there. It was gone. 

"How?" She muttered.

"Just some old tricks. Nothing special," the voice brushed off the question.

"...Thank you," she hesitantly said.

"Of course, my dear Pencil," they whispered in her ear again. A shiver ran down her spine.

"Show yourself, please," The pencil begged.

"Oh, fine," they whined.

The lights flickered on, revealing a cozy blue room, complete with a bookshelf, two chairs, with a coffee table in between them. It seemed like a whole different dimension.

But what shocked her most was the number standing in front of her.

"Sit, let's chat." They smiled.

The two sat in their respective seats, Pencil's brain brimming with questions.

"Who, like, are you?" Pencil blurted out.

"I'm One! I'm an old friend of your boss," One replied, seemingly friendly.

"Another number?" She said, mainly to herself, "Where the hell are you guys coming from?"

"All over the place."

"Like where?"

One's eye twitched in annoyance, "That's awfully off topic, isn't it?"

"Off topic? But-"

"SHUT-" they caught themself, she had to keep her cool if she was going to get this done. "Let's just get to the point, shall we? No point in dwelling on useless questions."

"What point are we trying to get to?"

"The point where I ask to make a deal." A contract flew calmly through the air, landing on the table that separated the two. "I can make it all go away. The whispers, the stares, the hatred. You'll get Match back."

"In exchange for... What exactly?" Pencil asked warily.

"A simple, tiny, itsy bitsy, favor. That's all!" The contract floated closer to Pencil, "And all you have to do is sign here, with any limb of choice!"

"What's the favor you're asking of me?"

"You sure ask a lot of questions. Ever thought of shutting that mouth of yours?"

"Answer the question, One."

"It's TBD." The paper floated closer. "Sign it."

"What if I say no?" Pencil replied stubbornly.

"You won't," One stated.

She challenged the number, "How do you know that?" 

"The offer is too tempting, my friend." One got up from her chair and began circling Pencil, like a predator circling its prey. "Match will be scared of you, what you're supposedly capable of. Strangers will think you deserve to rot in jail. They will whisper, they will stare."

Pencil glanced at the paper. 

"They'll hate you, they'll threaten you. Threaten your family," they continued.

Pencil picked up the contract, her hands shaking.

One asked, stopping behind the pencil's chair and leaning over her shoulder, "You don't want that, do you?" 

"No," Pencil muttered.

One's voice dropped lower to a whisper, "Then sign on that one little line and it'll all go away."

"...Promise?" Pencil hated how weak she sounded. But if this number could do what she was promising... Then she'll sign.

She smiled fauxly, "I'd pinky promise if I had hands, dear." However, they'd also have their fingers crossed behind their back if they had hands.

"I'll sign. If it gets Match back," Pencil sighed.

A wild smile spread across One's face. "Wonderful!"

Little did the pencil know, she was signing a deal with the devil.

GOLF BALL: 8:00

The crack was getting wider by the second, and the bar was growing more restless by the minute. Clearly, everyone had seen the abnormality, and it worried them.

Wind began to whistle past the windows as rain pelted against them, and the TVs within the room blared the hurricane warning siren. Causing absolute chaos amongst the customers. 

"Dude!" Freezie yelled to Barbecue Sauce, "Don't we have some sort of shelter?!"

"No, we don't! We're royally FUCKED."

"Thanks for the optimism, bro!" Freezie retorted sarcastically, though Barbecue Sauce didn't hear it.

"HURRICANE WARNING FOR YOYLE CITY, YOYLELAND. TAKE SHELTER IN A WINDOWLESS, UNDERGROUND ROOM IF POSSIBLE," The TVs blared in that automated voice that struck dread into the hearts of those who heard it. 

The building began to shake violently, causing inanimate objects in the room to fall and tumble. Glass bottles shattered on the ground.

A piece of wood smacked against the window, shattering it on impact. Debris swirled around the interior of the building.

Golf Ball hopped off her chair, thinking quickly. "Dumbass! Follow me!" 

She scurried her way to the back of the bar, not bothering to check if Leafy was following.

Leafy hurried after her friend. She didn't know what she was doing, but she decided, yeah, following Golf Ball was her best bet right now.

They huddled in the bathroom. It wasn't small, by any means, but it felt like Leafy's world was crashing down around her, making the space seem smaller than it was. 

"Fire-firey! I have to call Firey!"

"Your phone will not work. The power lines are surely down!" But Golf Ball's words fell on deaf ears. Leafy fumbled with her phone, hastily tapping Firey's number.

"Please, please, please, Firey, answer..." she muttered, pacing back and forth. 

"We're sorry, the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected or is no longer in service."

"No. No, fuck." She called again.

"We're sorry, the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected-"

Again.

"We're sorry, the number you-"

And again.

"We're sorry-"

"Leafy," Golf Ball interrupted, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

"But-"

"He's not going to pick up."

Leafy crumpled to her knees, crying.

"Uh," she sat next to Leafy, "I'm sure he's ok, he can always be recovered."

"It's not just that! I-" she sobbed more. 

Not knowing what to say, Golf Ball stayed silent and stayed at her friend's side.

Now was not a time to panic, but it seemed that she was the only one with that mentality. Those outside were still panicking, and her friend was sobbing beside her.

For once, Golf Ball had no idea as to what she should do.

--

The two stayed there for hours. Leafy fell asleep on her side, her legs tucked up to her chest. Golf Ball stayed awake, constantly glancing around as if something was going to attack her.

Golf Ball had noticed a while ago that it had gone quiet outside. No more of the panicked yelling and chaos could be heard. All she could hear was the wind blowing and debris flying around. 

She eventually succumbed to sleep when she realized the hurricane wouldn't be ending anytime soon.

Chapter Text

TENNIS BALL: BEGINNING OF THE END

The hurricane was a huge surprise to Tennis Ball. He'd been studying the weather for the past few weeks; it was his job after all, and nowhere did he detect a mother-flipping hurricane until just a minute ago, and it was rapidly forming. It came out of absolutely nowhere. Another thing to note was that Yoyle City had no history of hurricanes. 

Tennis Ball's roommates, Pen and Eraser, entered the room where he was.

"Ok, dude, YOU'RE the weather guy here, so why the FUCK is the house swaying?" Pen asked.

"Get to the basement, now. There's a freaking hurricane." Tennis Ball hurriedly packed up his computer and made his way to the basement door.

Eraser and Pen follow close behind, holding hands, "What do you mean, 'a hurricane'?! There's never been a recorded hurricane in Yoyle City!"

Tennis Ball rolled his eyes, retorting, "I know that, I'm the meteorologist, 🅱️𝑒𝓃. Plus, just because it's never happened before doesn't mean it can't happen ever. We do live near the Goiky Canal. Honestly, we're really freaking lucky it hasn't happened yet."

"Well, if you're the 'meteorologist' here, then why haven't you known about this until now?" Eraser pointed out bluntly. "Aren't hurricanes, like, really fucking big? And like, detectable?"

Tennis Ball went quiet as he stepped onto the basement floor, his roommates stepping in after.

"I don't know, guys. It's really odd, this hurricane," he informed, concern seeping into his tone.

Pen tilted his head, "Odd, how?"

Tennis Ball sat down and opened his computer, "It came out of nowhere. I was able to detect it only about a minute before the worst of it. Which, might I add, formed insanely quickly."

"How?" Pen repeated.

"For once, guys, I don't have an answer," Tennis Ball replied.

"Oh," Pen muttered. "So do we just... Sit here? Until it blows over?"

"Pretty much," Tennis Ball sighed, "Sit tight. I'll be right back."

Pen let go of his boyfriend's hand and stepped closer. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where are you going?"

"We need supplies."

"And you're the one who's gonna get it? No offense, you don't have arms!" He blurted out.

While the two bickered, Eraser had made the journey upstairs and grabbed the stuff he assumed they needed. Some snacks, two flashlights, and a blanket (so he could cuddle with his boyfriend, obviously). 

The windows rattled from the forces of the wind, and bits of debris plinked against them continuously. The rain had started since they'd gone downstairs, and it was beating against the glass, combining all the noises in an ominous cacophony of sounds.

Eraser set the stuff down on a couch and peeked out the window, curious as to what he would see.

Rain and wind and debris swirled aggressively outside, making it nearly impossible to see any farther than the road in front of their house. A rather large piece of lumber flew into the window; it didn't break, but it scared the wits out of Eraser. 

"GODDAMMIT-" He fell back onto his ass, freaked out. 

He scrambled up to his feet and picked up the supplies, making his way back downstairs. Eraser suddenly understood the gravity of this hurricane. At any moment, something could smash a hole through their windows, or the wind could rip the roof off their house. He prayed that it wouldn't happen.

Eraser stepped into the basement and dropped his haul onto the floor, slightly panting. 

"Dude, it's a fucking shit storm out there."

Tennis Ball and Pen turned from each other to the third, confused.

"Where did you go??" Pen asked.

"Upstairs, I grabbed some shit," he hooked a thumb to the stairs.

"Why?" Pen asked, "I was going to get it.

"Because you two were bickering like old people over a cup of chocolate pudding," he stated frankly.

"Ah-" Pen paused, then nodded, "Fair."

"What did you grab?" Tennis Ball asked as Pen stepped up to his boyfriend and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Snacks, flashlights, a blanket," he waved his hand around as he listed the things.

"Good, because the lights-" The lights turned off, submerging them in pitch darkness, "-could turn off at any moment," Tennis Ball finished. "Get ready to hang out in the dark for hours," he advised as he flicked on a flashlight, revealing Pen, who was clinging to Eraser. 

"Are you scared of the dark, Pen?" Tennis Ball asked.

"NO," he quickly denied.

"He is," Eraser pat his boyfriend's back.

"I'm gonna hit you," Pen hissed.

Eraser teased, poking Pen's nose, "You won't; my face is too pretty."

"Shut up," he snapped.

"Mh... No," Eraser cupped Pen's face and kissed him.

"Even during a hurricane, you guys manage to be disturbingly affectionate. Emphasis on the 'disturbing'," Tennis Ball chimed in, unamused. 

Pen and Eraser both flipped off Tennis Ball, simultaneously saying, "You're just jealous."

Tennis Ball just rolled his eyes and shuffled to the back of the basement, taking his computer and a granola bar with him. 

--

A few hours had passed since the hurricane started, with no issues. The power was out, so the usual 'basement noises' were now silent.

Pen and Eraser had fallen asleep on the couch, in each other's arms, of course.

Tennis Ball was on his computer, tracking the hurricane. He'd studied hurricanes and other natural disasters to no end, but this storm went against everything he'd ever learned about the disaster.

First of all, his computer kept categorizing it as a category one storm, when the wind speeds were pushing a category five. Not to mention how fast it reached the wind speeds of a category five.

Second of all, it came out of nowhere. It went from a completely sunny, clear day to rain and community-destroying wind speeds in a matter of minutes. Which was impossible. It wasn't even in the realm of possibilities.

Stressed and out of options, Tennis Ball pulled up another website, 'WEATHER ANOMALIES', run by wackjobs who thought the weather was controlled by a secret government, or something like that; he never cared enough to look through their site. He'd thought it was a load of baloney from the get-go.

Run by individuals shadowed in mystery, it covered loads of conspiracy theories, mainly about the weather, and 'evidence' to support it. The theme of the site was only akin to shock sites; dark, ominous, gothic. All around a spooky time, but without the extreme gore. 

He hoped they had something on the hurricane happening now. And they did! Tennis Ball clicked on the link titled 'YOYLE CITY HURRICANE.' 

It brought him to a separate page with a short article with the header, 'CRACK IN SKY CAUSE OF HURRICANE?' 

A crack in the sky? He thought.

In short, the sky has been cracking, which they named 'The Rift', and 'The Rift' had shown itself just minutes before the hurricane formed. They thought the missing people somehow played a part in it as well.

There wasn't much in the article; it mainly just explained the context of the picture attached.

An odd picture at that.

It was of a whiteboard, notes, like 'she hides nearby' and 'friend of Two', scribbled throughout the space, accompanied by pictures taken at different points in the year of a number-shaped person. In the middle, with all the arrows pointing to it, was a one drawn in blue.

TENNIS BALL: THE DESTRUCTION.

"Tennis Ball!"

He was awoken by Pen, who was shaking him.

"Dude, come on!"

"What?" He muttered as he stood up, trailing behind his friend.

"The hurricane's over! But-... You've just got to see this."

The two hurried the rest of the way upstairs, and when they got to the top, Tennis Ball was surprised to see that the house was mostly untouched, save for a couple of broken windows.

Eraser was already outside, surveying the wreckage, or lack thereof, when they got there.

"It only hit the city," he announced, gesturing to Yoyle City.

"What? How?" He was right, though; they lived right outside the city, but somehow it barely missed them. By at least one hundred yards. A football field. Maybe less. 

They could see grass torn up and trees thrown around like toys. Bits and pieces of buildings were outside their house, stuck in the ground like unmarked graves. A skyscraper that used to be a part of the skyline was now missing. It was most likely torn down by the sheer force of the winds.

Pen pulled up in his car, a blue Grand Yoylian (bear with me i pulled a car name out of my ass), though, it wasn't exactly... grand. The poor guy loved the car, but it was one speedbump away from falling apart. It wasn't built for traversing a ruined city.

"Guys, get in. We're checking out the damage."

"We should probably take Eraser's truck," Tennis Ball suggested.

"Why?" Pen responded defensively. 

"Your car looks like it's one fly to the windshield away from falling apart," he explained.

Eraser nodded, agreeing silently.

Pen narrowed his eyes, "Fine. Let's take Eraser's truck," he relented bitterly, hopping out of his car.

Soon enough, they were on the road, in Eraser's expensive, black, try-hard truck, making the 3-mile-3-minute journey to the city. The ruined city loomed closer. Tennis Ball dreaded what he knew he would see.

Inside the city was... pretty much what he expected. It was unethical to think, he knew, but this is just what hurricanes did. Destroy. 

Most of the buildings they passed were collapsed, or those that were more stand-alone were wiped out completely. The truck had to dodge and swerve around piles of metal and wood. Trees, dirt, clumps of grass, and debris lined the streets like some garden of destruction. 

They plowed through increasingly flooded streets until Eraser decided it was too much for his truck and began to back up to a less flooded part.

"We should continue on foot. It'd be easier," he proposed as he backed up.

Tennis Ball added from the back seat, "We could look for survivors, too."

"Do I get a say in this?" Pen grumbled.

Eraser asserted with a small grin on his face, "My truck, my rules, babe."

Pen rolled his eyes at his boyfriend's remark, but obliged, getting out of the truck after Tennis Ball.

MEANWHILE

Golf Ball and Leafy had ventured outside of the bar once they realized the storm had ended. The sheer destruction the hurricane caused hit them like a truck.

Leafy was still worried about Firey, but Golf Ball assured her that he was ok, despite not believing that to be true herself. They decided to look for him, not knowing what else to do.

The two looked for a little over an hour, when they heard voices—three of them.

"We haven't seen anyone at all. Where did everyone go?"

"Were they all killed?

"At this point, it's a possibility. It's a wasteland out here."

The first two voices, Golf Ball didn't recognize, but the third one, she did know.

As if repeating history, Golf Ball walked around the corner before she could convince herself otherwise, and confronted the three men, mainly the one she recognized.

"You!"

Tennis Ball jumped at the new person, "I'm sorry, who are you?" 

She narrowed her eyes.

His eyes widened in realization, "You're the girl from the cafe!"

"Whoa! That's the cafe girl you told us about? You're right, she is-" Eraser started.

"Eraser, if you even think about finishing that sentence, you will regret it," a light blush spread across his face.

Pen laughed.

Golf Ball raised an eyebrow.

"I'm here too," Leafy raised a hand, then whispered to her friend, "You know that guy?"

"Somewhat," Golf Ball replied.

As Tennis Ball glared at a smug Eraser, Pen stepped forward to introduce himself and his friends.

"Hey! I'm Pen, my buddy over there is Tennis Ball and Eraser is my boyfriend," he grinned as introduced everyone. 

"I know the tennis ball," Golf Ball responded flatly.

Pen waited for them to introduce themselves, but when they didn't, he suggested, "And you are..?"

Leafy stepped up, when her friend seemingly refused to, "I'm Leafy, and grumpy pants over here is Golf Ball."

"Nice to meet you guys," Pen smiled as he extended a hand.

"Yeah! Nice to meet you, too," she shook his hand. "Say, you, uh, haven't happened to have seen my boyfriend, have you?" 

She let go of Pen's hand, "Fire boy, little shorter than me?"

"No, sorry... You two are the first people we've seen so far," he apologized.

"Oh... No, that's ok."

"Where are you guys headed?" Golf Ball interrupted.

"Nowhere in particular. We live right outside the city, and weren't hit, somehow. We just wanted to check out the wreck," Tennis Ball answered.

"I assume you have seen the crack?"

The three nodded, Tennis Ball muttering, "The Rift."

She said, noticing the nutter, but choosing to ignore it. She had to admit, 'The Rift' was a better name than 'the crack'.  "Good, we are not crazy, then."

There was a beat of silence before Golf Ball announced, "Well, we best get moving. Leafy, come on." She began walking away.

Tennis Ball called out, "Wait, we should stick together, don't you think?"

"Yeah, Golfie-"  Leafy started.

Golf Ball cut her off, "Do not call me Golfie."

"Golf Ball," she corrected, "I agree with Tennis Ball, I think we should stick together."

"Why?" Her eyes darted over everyone before landing back on Leafy.

Leafy sighed, bringing her voice down to a whisper, "Something bigger is going on. I don't know what the something bigger is, but we might need their help."

There was a loud crack and rumbling. The noises brought their attention to the source. The crack.

It had grown wider.

Wary that the hurricane could start again, Golf Ball sighed, "I have a place to go. Follow me."

Chapter Text

Golf Ball was leading them, seemingly, to nowhere. 

Through water and mud, they trudged, over piles of debris and wood, they climbed, until they were outside of the city, where it seemed Golf Ball continued to lead them with no destination in mind.

"Golf Ball," Leafy stated once her friend had paused her power walking to look around her surroundings. "Where are we going?"

"Just- let me think. I have not been here in a while," The power walker brushed off.

"Been where in a while?? An empty field?" She exclaimed as Golf Ball approached a rock covered in moss and debris from the hurricane.

The boys trailed quietly behind the girls, like dogs. Pen and Eraser were holding hands, engaged in a hushed conversation. Tennis Ball looked troubled.

When Golf Ball began tapping on the rock, Leafy pinched the bridge of her nose and mumbled, "Oh my yellow tomato, she's lost it."

The ground under their feet started rumbling and shifting, then, with a jolt and loud screech, began to slide to the side, opening to a set of metal stairs.

All of them, except Golf ball, who was standing there proudly, yelled in alarm as the ground shifted open under them.

"I will have to yoyle oil that, but for now, we have other things to do," she chirped as she made her way down the metal steps.

The others hesitantly followed her down into the darkness. The clang of the five sets of footsteps echoed unnervingly loud in the quiet, large space.

As soon as Golf Ball's foot hit the bottom of the steps, the lights flicked on row by row with loud, echoing clicks.

The rest of the crew stared in awe at the sight before them.

Various machines whirred, and other inventions, hundreds of them, were mounted on the walls. There was a large incinerator in the middle of the space with a grate over it, preventing things or people from falling in. In the corner was a desk covered in papers and metal parts. Paper was scattered across the floor, too.

"Golf Ball, what is this," Leafy asked, still in awe.

"My underground factory," she replied, as if it were normal to have your own factory underground.

"THIS IS AWESOME," Tennis Ball gasped. He was bouncing up and down in place, looking around in fascination.

She thanked him, soaking in the praise as she sat on her roller chair. 

"Alright, I have things to do, so just... occupy yourselves."

"What kind of things?" Pen asked.

"Nothing that you should be concerned about." Then she added, "Do not touch anything, either."

"Oh," he replied, sitting down.

"Whatever," Eraser said in response, sitting next to his boyfriend.

Golf Ball turned around in her chair and started working on whatever she had to as the rest were left to fend for themselves.

Tennis Ball entertained himself by looking at all the inventions on the walls.

Eraser and Pen had started playing cards.

Leafy sat in a corner, repeatedly calling Firey, to no avail.

The meteorologist approached Golf Ball, peering over her shoulder at what she was working on. 

"Those inventions, they're really impressive," he softly complimented, even though the girl seemed to bristle at his mere presence. 

He knew why she disliked him, but he didn't understand why.

All he did was do a little dumpster diving and take something to fix up that was thrown out.

"Thank you," she replied, glancing up at him. She swore she could see a faint dust of blush across his face.

"What're you working on?" He asked, genuine curiosity on his face.

She was silently stunned for a quick moment. No one really showed any interest in her inventions. Not her (two) friends, not her boss, even though her pitch had a 97.886% chance of boosting profit. Four and X weren't very good business people.

"Um," she faltered, "it's a recovery center."

He raised an eyebrow, "Don't we already have recovery centers?"

She smiled internally, elated that someone was interested in what she was doing, but she kept the stoicism on her face, not wanting him to see that it made her happy, "We do. But they all run on one singular power source connecting to the FOURX building, which was torn in half by the hurricane. So until the power source is repaired, we cannot recover anyone. Those who died will be dead for months."

"Oh."

She continued, "So I'm making one that runs on its own. The only issue is that it needs a rather large amount of power to do so."

"What about a hand-powered one?"

"Excuse me?"

"A hand-powered one. You type in the name like a regular recovery center, but instead of pressing a 'go' button, you crank a handle. I can't imagine that takes much power."

She searched his face, then glanced at her paper, "That's... Actually, a good idea." She quickly added, not wanting him to have a win, "I'll make sure to put it into consideration."

"Cool," he replied calmly, even though inside he was over that moon that she had even considered the idea.

He continued standing there, silently peering at her paper, where she was drawing the hand-powered recovery center he had suggested. Usually, she'd have told anyone else to fuck off, but for some reason, she didn't quite mind his presence behind her. 

-

Leafy held the phone to her ear, painstakingly hearing that automated message again and again.

"We're sorry, the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected or is no longer in service."

She knew that if her boyfriend had been killed in the storm, it'd be months before she could see him again. The very thought sent a pang of fear through her body. 

The leaf was about to call again when she heard a noise, not a noise from one of the other four in the factory with her, but from the wall. 

She stood up, wiped her eyes, and attempted to pinpoint where in the wall the sound came from. 

Then, she heard it again. This time, she managed to figure out where it came from - the vent.

The vent ended up too high for her to see inside. Leafy averted her attention from the cover and began to look for something to stand on. A crate stood not far from her; it was a perfect step stool.

Once the girl had dragged it over to her corner and positioned it under the vent, she stepped up onto it and peered inside.

The space was filled with dust and cobwebs, and she swore she saw a couple of spiders, but the most notable part of the interior was the shaking clump of grass at the end of it.

Concerned, Leafy pried the vent cover off, which caught everyone's attention.

"Leafy!" Golf Ball exclaimed angrily, hopping off her chair, "What in goiky's name are you doing!?"

She ignored her friend and attempted to coax the little guy out. 

"Hey, buddy," she said softly, reaching a hand out. 

He took one look at her hand, then her face, and flung himself into her arms, clinging to her chest. 

"Oh!" She stumbled and almost fell off the crate, clutching the shaking clump of grass to her chest. He was obviously scared.

"Hey, Golf Ball?" Leafy turned around. "Did you know you had someone living in your vents?"

"Grassy?!" Golf Ball exclaimed, hurrying over to the crate as Leafy hopped down. The others followed close behind.

"What are you doing here?" She asked him. 

He clung to Leafy tighter, pointing at the vent. "Grassy's been stuck in there for DAYS!"

Leafy asked softly, "How'd you get stuck in Golf Ball's vents?" 

"Grassy was looking for Basketball, and then fell into a hole!"

"Which must've been the part of the vent that connected to the surface," Tennis Ball muttered.

"Why were you looking for Basketball out here?"

"Because Grassy was looking two weeks ago, but got scared away!" He explained, "Grassy came back to continue looking."

Leafy asked another question. "What scared you away?"

"Grassy saw a blue number that disappeared with Gaty," he explained.

"Blue number?" Eraser mumbled quizzically.

"Four disappeared with Gaty?" Pen asked.

Blue number? Tennis Ball thought. Could it be...?

"Grassy! What did this number look like?"

Grassy jumped at the intensity in Tennis Ball's voice, "Um... They were one shaped, and had NO arms!" he raised his arms as if to prove a point.

"Oh my gosh! They were right!" 

"What in Goiky's green earth are you talking about?" Golf Ball asked incredulously.

Tennis Ball sought, ignoring her question, "Golf Ball, do you have a computer somewhere?" 

"I do, on my desk, but why?" 

He had already made his way to the desk and grabbed the computer.

The computer was practically ripped open, and he began typing on the keyboard to pull up the website. "Look, the site I mentioned earlier, it- just take a look." He turned the computer around, showing the group the picture, "If Grassy saw the same thing they're showing here, then maybe this isn't a load of crap and there is another number kidnapping everyone."

 "That's the number Grassy saw!" Grassy confirmed.

THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY: TWO WEEKS BEFORE.

Fanny never expected herself to join a conspiracy website, but when no one else would believe what she saw and experienced, they did.

Fanny, after making a deal with One for a new mouth in April, was let go, but with a threat.

"It's the fun of the game, my dear. Usually, I'd erase your very existence, but I can't resist a little game of hide and seek. I'll always find you, anyway. I have eyes everywhere."  Eyes had appeared behind the number, blinking and looking around. 

"So, I'm not truly being set free?"

"Oh, honey, you were never free."

She still doesn't know the exact reason One let her go, but she was almost grateful for it, because she was able to tell anyone who'd listen to beware of the blue-shaped number.

Fanny, in hopes that she could stay hidden from One, never returned home or to her friends. In the eyes of everyone, except those who were a part of the website, she was missing. 

It was only a matter of time before they'd come back for her, she knew. 

Until that happened, she had to keep talking about it, even if no one believed her.

Even if the only way she could get her story out was through a website run by people who thought the earth was flat.

-

It wasn't until Gaty went missing that she started seeing The Rift; no one else could see it. When she'd ask someone about it, they'd just look at her like she was crazy. 

But she wasn't. Fanny was sure of it. 

Something was different about Gaty's disappearance; she could feel it. 

Fanny bought a whiteboard and began writing everything she knew about One as soon as possible. There was something much, much bigger happening here.

She'd spend the whole night writing notes and an article for the website.

The site wasn't the preferred place to have her stuff published, but it was the best she had right now; no one else would listen.

-

She hovered over the call button. It was 2 am when she impulsively typed in Tree's number, determined to call him. But then she wondered, could One track me down if I contact anyone? Possibly. But Fanny purchased a new phone just in case and destroyed her old one.

Then she remembered her friends. They probably missed her. They probably thought she was dead. She HATED that feeling. Even if One found her, she had to tell her friends that she was ok.

She pressed call.

It rang twice, three times, four times, before she heard the click of the line being picked up.

"Hello? Whoever this is, better have a damn good reason for calling at two in the morning," he answered.

"Um," she bit her lip, "Tree? It's Fanny."

He paused, "Fanny?"

"Yeah- I-" She started.

"Where are you?! We've been looking for you for months!" Tree exclaimed. 

Fanny assured Tree, "I can't tell you where I am... But I'm ok."

"That's good- great even. But we thought you were dead."

"Don't tell anyone besides the pact, ok? I'm hiding from someone. Someone who is going to come back for me sooner or later."

"What- Fanny!? Who's after you!?"

Fanny sent a picture of her notes. "Her name is One."

"What-"

She interupted, "I need you to contact someone for me, Tree." 

"Who?" He asked.

"Golf Ball."

TREE: TWO WEEKS BEFORE

He'd attempted to contact Golf Ball the morning after his conversation with Fanny, but she didn't answer. 

Then, he tried the next day. No answer.

Then the next. Nothing.

Eventually, he opted to just text her. He sent her a message about the crack Fanny saw, and that she was hoping Golf Ball would help in figuring out what was going on.

She told him Fanny was a nutjob and that she was probably on drugs and that there was no crack in the sky, then promptly blocked him. 

Rude, much?

PRESENT DAY

Golf Ball's eyes locked onto the picture; she'd seen it before. But where?

They'd walk closer to the computer, gathering around it in a conspiratorial near-circle.

"What does this mean?" Leafy implored hesitantly as she adjusted Grassy against her hip.

"I mean, what else can we do but stop them?" Tennis Ball suggested pensively, looking up from the computer.