Tonight was certainly an... *experience*, that's for sure.
There was already a lot on the line for Golf Ball, even without the... *incident*. Barf Bag was feeling under the weather after the latest episode of shenanigans, and apparently, for whatever reason, people *really* cared about that, acting as if this was some terrible thing, this great tragedy the likes of which has never befallen anyone in the history of ever. Like, *seriously*? Has any of them ever actually taken a good look at what Needle has to endure daily?
The Team8s were concerned for obvious reasons, and so were Death P.A.C.T.; but everyone else? *Everyone*? GB was looking forward to a nice, productive day at the Factory when people were suddenly making their way down, rushing forth like a great wave, demanding that she *must* go up and help her. Not wanting to let them ruin her day- as they've done the last 2,763 times -she told them to just do the far, *far* simpler option: rip her to shreds, type her name into the Recovery Center, and bring her back good as new. But for whatever reason (probably because not a single one of them knew common sense), everyone got *really* offended by that, and the P.A.C.T. *especially* grew rather cross.
She wanted to stand her ground and tell everybody to leave her alone, but... well... There *is* a reason why she constantly works so hard to show her worth. She'd be completely unable to do anything as they picked her up and carried her up the stairs, with Tennis Ball helpless and forced to follow them, making sure they wouldn't so much as scratch her.
Once Golf Ball finally begrudgingly agreed to see what she can do, things became *somewhat* more cordial; the two sport globules would be allowed to go back down to the Factory to pick up the needed equipment, and the two got started on doing a check-up posthaste. With the Team8s pulling out all the stops to make sure Barf Bag was *somewhat* comfortable in her dazed state, the procedure from there would actually be rather soothing and relaxing, allowing the gears to turn in her head. She realized how this was actually a blessing in disguise; after everyone and everything had disregarded her scientific knowledge and wisdom for so long, they now finally turned to her for their greatest needs. If she could cure Barfy and show the wonders of actually *thinking* about stuff, maybe they'd finally get some progress done in this depressing little rock.
There was one slight snag, however: this seemed to be a problem that she couldn't solve.
Time passed. Minutes became hours. Day became night. The sun set and the moon rose high before she even knew it. Everyone started becoming frantic, everyone started getting antsy. GB tried her hardest to calm everyone down; all the commotion *obviously* wouldn't help one bit, after all. But that would go about as well as everything else she'd done. Eventually, they were just at their wits' end; Tennis Ball once again suggested that they just killed her, but Death P.A.C.T. once again vehemently protested, demanding that they instead try the leftover vomit that was hanging around in a volcano.
Yeah. Don't ask.
The rest, as they say, is history. Golf Ball preferred not to think about it, really. For one, all that stuff's in the past, and all that really mattered is the now. And *another* thing, she was currently, *desperately*, fighting for her life.
After an episode of hectic shenanigans, she and her associate wound up taking refuge in Basketball's Aboveground Factory. As much as the team tyrant didn't want to give that lousy excuse for a scientist any credit for *anything*, she had to admit deep down that something she made was their best chance at this point. They've already tried curing Barf Bag, *repeatedly*, and look where that ended up. Like all productive, hard-working researchers, they took a sample of the... *material* to use in their experiments, very hastily throwing everything at the wall and hoping *something* sticks.
Quite frankly, she didn't know whether to be relieved or mortified that nothing was working.
Golf Ball groaned. "None of the gadgets in this stupid factory work!" Tennis Ball frowned. "I can't believe there's something that the two of us can't figure out!" GB preferred to ignore anything and everything he said (as her opinion was fact and was always right all the time), but she had to admit that he had a point there. "...I know."
