Sleepless - A BFB Grimdark

Part Ten - Back to the Lab

"Curses!" Golf Ball growled and stomped, making the table shake. Tennis Ball jumped.

"GB? Are you okay?" He asked. Golf Ball laid her head on the desk and groaned. Around her were several measuring tools, as well as some beakers of fluids. Just to her side was the mysterious substance, taunting her with its mysteries.

"I can't find a good enough depressant to cancel out the...whatever this is!" Golf Ball glared at the petri dish. "...Substance X. That's what I'm calling it now," She decided, capping the dish and grumbling. "Basic name, but it gets the job done," Tennis Ball gave her a concerned look, but turned back to Gaty, who laid still as the grave on the table.

He winced as he stared at the gaping hole in her chest. He could rationalize Book being able to tear off Pencil's head, but Gaty? Gaty was made of much stronger metals and wood, and yet here she lay, her own leg being ripped off of her and stabbed through her chest. The thought alone was disturbing.

"Do you think Substance X causes an increase in strength?" Tennis Ball asked, his voice laced with worry. Golf Ball came over to his side and looked over Gaty. The stump of her leg was nothing more than splintered wood and bent metal. She nodded.

"Surely, I can't imagine Book would normally be able to perform such a feat, angry or otherwise..." Golf Ball trailed off. "Assuming she's the one who did this, of course,"

A creak from the next room caught their attention. Golf Ball looked to the door, her brow lowering over her glasses.

"Hm, I wonder who that is..." She said. As she walked over to the door, a sudden jolt of hesitation struck her. She blinked. "...An emotional response," She uttered.

"You're getting emotional?" Tennis Ball asked. He looked up at the door, now hearing the sound of shuffling steps. He felt the same tug. The steps outside were...unsure. Instinctively, he grabbed a chair and jammed it under the door.

"Tennis ball! What are you—"

"Ssh! We need to stay quiet," Tennis Ball whispered. Golf Ball looked at him.

"Why? What could possibly be out there that's so—"

"It's her."

"...Her?" Golf Ball cocked her head. Tennis Ball wasn't normally so...impulsive. Tennis Ball didn't answer, only glancing at the door behind them.

"If she attacks, I want you to run,"

"Tennis Ball, who are you—Ugh, nevermind. Logically speaking, shouldn't I stay? I can handle much more of a beating," Tennis Ball looked down at Golf Ball with a sudden tenderness that made her heart flip for a moment.

"I...I don't think I could live with myself if you got hurt," He said. He winced as a crash sounded beyond the door. "Down! Get down!" He commanded and ducked behind the table. Golf ball, still confused, ducked under her desk.

The door slammed, shaking in its frame as the chair under it slipped, crashing to the floor. Golf Ball jumped, pressing herself further under the desk and against the wall. Another bang and the chair scooted, creeping the door open a crack. A loud yell sounded, and with another slam, the door flew open and a figure stumbled through. Golf Ball held the urge to gasp as she stared up at the figure now standing in the lab.

Book stood with her back turned to Golf Ball. Her leg, the one they had fixed, bent under her weight, making her limp as she stumbled across the tile floor. Her hair was a tangled mess of blues and greens, and her vest was completely gone. Scraps of paper mache skin hung from her body loosely, exposing layers of muddled newspaper and dull skin-colored scraps. She was covered in mud and remnants of bile, and her skin was riddled with scratches and splinters.