Alternate Battle for Dream Island

ABFDI 14b: Half a Clue

Pin aimlessly wandered around the silent, winding halls.

Who was she, really? That seemed like a silly question at first; she was a thumbtack, a living object, fully committed to winning a competition for some island, wanting to help those around her in any way she can. She was a bold, brave, courageous, heroic leader. She led the Squishy Cherries for a time. She's been through plenty. She has some friends, some enemies, some that don't really care for her. Though all the little details about her changed from day to day, her outward appearance towards others shifting and adjusting to suit her needs, she was fairly certain that she was herself. She was Pin, there's no further debate on that.

But who was she, *really*? Pin of the now, Pin of the competition, that was all well-understood, firmly grasped. But what of her before? What caused her to wind up on this horrible, long-abandoned backwater part of the world? What led her to become associated with *those* band of objects, those good-for-nothings that can't get anything done even if it was to save their lives? What kept her tethered to this place, despite having had all the opportunities to depart before the Battle for Dream Island upended everything? Why was she *here*?

The pushpin chanced upon a mirror on the wall, a curious choice for decoration from someone that obviously doesn't have any taste in interior design. She stared into herself for a long time, pondering the quandary for far longer than she'd like to admit. If someone somehow managed to ask her about it, she'd shake her head and claim that she knew all the answers; what sort of leader would she be if she admitted to having not a single idea, after all?

But in truth, she didn't know.

She knew that what happened before had caused her to flee from all she'd known, running further and further from civilization until winding up here, when this strange little community got her stuck in its metaphorical web. She knew that it drove her to become the leader she is now, this champion of the overlooked, the neglected. She knew that it was what pushed her to keep on competing for this island, seeing it as the means to finally fulfill her long-dreamt hopes and ambitions. But in the end all of those are common knowledge; simple deductions that can be inferred from how she acted and decided today. None of those answers actually got into the *real* question, the actual, substantive facts that explained how that mindset came to be.

Those details were lost to time quite a while ago; Pin just didn't know, it's as simple as that.

In truth she didn't really know about a lot of things; the competition spares not much at all for silent, in-depth contemplation and reflection. It emphasizes and promotes instantaneous reactions, immediate defense against perceived threats. It constantly shoves mouthful after mouthful of proverbial food, giving you not a single chance to chew, being made to immediately swallow, to take the punches. Now that she *finally* had this time all to herself, all in isolation, the more she had to confront that great big reality; that despite the facade she sets up around herself, despite acting like this great leader, she didn't know *anything* about what she was doing.

None of them did. None of them had for ages.

Some distant shouting completely took Pin's mind off of it; though she wanted to dwell on it further, the brief interruption had completely shattered whatever tenuous grasp she had on *anything*. She'd make her way over, sprinting at first, but gradually slowing down as it grew louder. She came up with a whole bunch of excuses, lies to throw them off in case whoever it was started asking questions. She was just on her way to meet someone else when the sudden commotion drew her attention. She wanted to take in the new sights but couldn't anymore for obvious reasons. On and on the list went.

Pin finally made it to the scene of the crime; as she was going back-and-forth on whether or not she should knock on the door, it would just swing open by itself. Golf Ball would storm off in a huff, absolutely refusing to respond to any of the pushpin's attempts at conversation. After feeling bad about it for a moment or two, having missed what was probably a *great* chance to glean some all-important secrets, she'd notice that the door remained ajar; wanting to maintain her confidence and recover from... whatever that was, she decided to just open it back up and waltz in like she was meant to be there. There was *absolutely* no way that can go wrong, right?