Alternate Battle for Dream Island

ABFDIA 2b: Get Planning

On one hand, this place actually had a hidden entrance; on the other hand, the moment she sealed everything shut, everything would be enveloped in complete and total darkness.

Shortly after Golf Ball had first encountered this place; shortly after she opened the hatch, bringing its millennia-old mysteries to light; shortly after she descended down the stairs, letting the full weight of its ancient history envelop her like a warm blanket; she knew immediately what she had to do, and when to do it. It was the same sort of feeling she encountered when she first found the Factory in its empty and desolate state, but in that instance, it was rather... *overwhelming*. She was just a tiny ball, a little sport globule, and the place was *massive*. Her excitement always had something to jump to, from one thing to another, but in the process she'd never really get to investigate any of them in depth. Making the place safe and livable ended up becoming the priority, and the prime time for uncovering whatever enigmas laid there would pass as she replaced rusting metal and outdated machinery with her own.

Here, it was different. Though she couldn't see more than a few feet from she stood, though she always risked slipping and sliding the rest of the way down, she could just *feel* the significance and value of the place in each and every step, in each and every breath. Everything was in a smaller, more manageable size. She was able to pretty much explore the entire thing in her first day of full-focused exploration. She became innately familiar with every little detail, every nook and cranny, within a week. And she was able to turn it upside-down, from a lonely place gathering dust and cobwebs to a neat retreat, in no time at all.

Golf Ball eventually made it down the flight of stairs, and proceeded to take the cautious few steps towards the next thing of note; kicking a nearby wall, a single light, a single screen would come to life, illuminating a stool she'd placed there ages prior for her convenience. After pressing a few buttons, the rest of the place would come to life. The humming and whirring of ancient devices would fill the silence, and after a loud buzzer, the heavy metal door that was barely illuminated would unlock itself, opening ever so slightly and inviting her to come in. And she'd accept that invitation, of course; opening it the rest of the way, she'd watch as the lights finally gave this place some sense of activity, revealing a small hall that had a similar door on the other end. The bossy-bot quickly glanced behind her, making sure she wasn't followed, then went to close the door. Another buzzer, and yet more machinery kicked into action, filling the place with a fine mist and allowing her to breathe comfortably for the first time in quite a long time.

GB had researched as much as she could about this place in the days and weeks following her discovery; for most old places like this, that was a *nightmare*, but fortunately the previous occupants had a knack for keeping records. The words 'bunker' and 'shelter' were thrown around a lot in the deciphered texts: a place of safety and refuge in case of... *some* disaster. The most horrific apocalypse possible could be unleashed upon the hapless people of the Earth, and everyone here could survive it unscathed.

The big question, of course, is *what* sort of disaster this place was built for. Why exactly would make someone fear the world so much that they'd built a place such as this? Probably the sort that completely tore the world asunder, leaving behind only myths and legends of the days before. The sort had depopulated every corner, leaving only the odd band of people every 2,763 miles or so. The sort that would gift this terrible, awful curse of life to inanimate objects, making them live through all this nonsense for the rest of eternity.

Golf Ball didn't become this fun-hating bookworm overnight, of course. There was a time where she was just like the others: incompetent, incapable, intelligent... *not*. But she could tolerate the boring stuff more than the others, and that tolerance led to curiosity, which led to interest, and so on, and so forth. When she first got her hands in a *really* old volume for the first time, when she first heard stories of a world far grander, far *better*, than the mediocre existence she lived in now, that was when she became *really* hooked. How could this be? How could things have been more comfortable, more peaceful, more *exciting*? How did it suddenly get swept away, become lost to time?