Alternate Battle for Dream Island

ABFDIA 3a: Nightmare 3

The journey to the second base was gonna take a day or two. *Great*.

Much to Golf Ball's surprise, Tennis Ball could keep his mouth shut for longer than she expected; he knew just how dangerous everything now was, that being spotted out here in the open effectively meant a death sentence, and that they *had* to get to shelter as soon as possible if they wanted *any* chance of making it out of here alive, let alone getting to the bottom of anything. They'd go up one hill, then go down. GB had a mildly exciting experience sliding down with her sled; it was almost enough to put a weak smile on her face. *Almost*. Tennis Ball, on the other hand, would have a rather unpleasant time. Though he wouldn't say anything, it's quite clear that he was fretting and panicking about all the blades of grass that now stuck to his fuzz. More than once did he try to get some off, standing on one foot to use the other as a claw, then proceed to stumble and roll a good while before he eventually regained his bearings. That's TB, alright. That clumsy Tennis Ball. The one she always knew.

And nothing else.

As much as she wanted things to go her way for 100% of the time, as much as she yearned for a world that was just *slightly* better than it currently was, the bossy-bot still had to contend with the fuzzball occasionally running their mouth about this or that or something or other. The topics, the questions, they were obvious enough. Just what exactly *were* they? Friends? Acquaintances? Partners? Some other word that's been tucked away under the pages of a thesaurus, long buried by the shifting sands? Golf Ball tried to just ignore them at first, but regardless of how frequent they were, even if he only talked *once* every couple of hours, it still got on her nerves. She just wanted to be alone. She had already planned *everything* for her solo confrontation against the speaker box and all the other great evils of the world. She had already resigned herself to that fate. And now *that* was being robbed from her too? When was she gonna get a break?

They did the same old routine once again. Pick out a decently sized hill, make their way up, suffer through Tennis Ball's chatter about his legs hurting, the temperatures rising, and all the other bickering. Meanwhile, she'd grit her teeth and just push through it. One foot, then the other. Up the hill. They'd make it to the hilltop, she'd take out the sled, and start making her way down, hoping that Tennis Ball would accidentally roll a completely different way and just get lost. Along the way, she'd remember that old adage, the saying that two is better than one. Was that *really* true? Having an additional set of hands (well, feet) *was* helpful in around 2,763 cases, give or take, but it also came with an extra brain (or whatever goop is up at everyone else's heads) that thinks they know what's best for them, what's best for the world. What would be the point of additional help if they doubted your plan at each step and turn?

She'd get off the sled for the last time.

Finding this second location was about as much of a miracle as finding the bunker. They had been wandering about, just like they'd always done, when they just so happened to come across *the* stretch of grass, those artificial blades that felt just ever so slightly different. When the two sport globules found it once again, the experience was much the same. Tennis Ball could remember that day where they considered placing some rock or something that was unique enough for them to recognize they were in the right place, but inconspicuous enough that anyone who didn't know what they were looking for would be none the wiser. Of course, Golf Ball, not wanting to risk even the *slightest* chance of anything going awry, didn't want to hear any of it. They'd just have to memorize the surroundings of the place, each and every hill and valley, all the trees that stuck out like sore thumbs, all the rocks that were strewn about. Though the features weren't all that unique, the patterns in which they were dotted across the landscape certainly were. Once they got it all memorized to a tee, they'd know that there was no place like that.