Alternate Battle for Dream Island

ABFDIA 14a: Sour

Something was *very* clearly off.

Tennis Ball is a scientist. That's his entire gig. As someone that actually cares about the world and everyone's ultimate fate, he has developed quite a few skills, skills that have proven themselves time and time again to be a *very* integral part of one's repertoire. One such capability is a keen, sharp sense of observation, the ability to discern even the slightest difference in the environment. It might not be all that useful in most cases, but in his profession, it can mean the difference between life and death. The slightest irregularity in an experiment that was meant to be an exact copy of a previous one, a crack or scratch on equipment that wasn't there before, the slightest change in anything in the environment. These are differences that seem ultimately irrelevant to the untrained eye, but in a world where *everything* has to be rigorously controlled, tested, and verified, it's *crucial* that these things are taken into account. It may just be one thing that's thrown off today, but as anyone with any sense of rationality and logic knows, everything influences *everything*. One problem can turn into two in the blink of an eye, which can turn to four, to eight, sixteen, and so on, and so forth. Things can go wrong *very* fast, and the cost of cleaning up after one's mistakes can be *immense*. As such, it is imperative that these problems are dealt with before they get out of hand, that they be detected at the earliest possible state.

It took a minute for Tennis Ball's eyes to adjust; there'd be a little bit of sunlight illuminating the immediate area, but it was *far* from enough to get a good look at *everything*. To *truly* let it all sink in. This Factory had been the result of his hard work, *their* hard work, over such a long time. So many artifacts recovered, so many trinkets tested, so many experiments conducted, so much data preserved. And all it took was a moment of carelessness, a second without their watchful eyes, for it all to go up in flames, to turn to nothing more than smoke. A great big ruin. A monument to...

A monument to *what*? Who exactly was to blame here? Was it the one that started the fire, whoever it may be? Was this a lesson on how everyone is always so complacent, so willing to destroy all that ultimately only wants to help them? Or, perhaps the blame can be placed on *them*. Their complacency. Their hubris. Golf Ball thought herself to be untouchable, what with her role as co-host. Tennis Ball figured that everyone would be too busy Battling for Dream Island to cause a commotion here, to take the time to walk down the many, *many* stairs. Could they have been *wrong*, for once?

TB pondered it for a moment as he continued to look through the surroundings, listlessly gazing at all that was lost. But very soon after, when his senses finally returned to him, that feeling of melancholy would be washed away by a more pressing matter.

Indeed, something was *very* clearly off.

It took a little while for him to figure out what it was; again, it was hard to see the difference amidst the darkness. There was rubble here, ruins there, wreckage *everywhere*. But he'd been taking note of all that a little while back, perhaps in some vain quest to find anything that survived the slaughter. He also knew that the winds have never been strong enough to be felt all the way down here; that's what made it the *perfect* place for GB to call home, after all, being a place where the outside world could no longer bother her. Everything that was here would remain almost exactly where they were, as if frozen in time, unless it was deliberately moved by some outside party. Sure, the devastation *could* have caused those circumstances to change, but he'd also made mental notes of that too, and that didn't seem to be the case.

Everything was strewn about, just as it was the last time he saw it. But it was in a *slightly* different way.

Someone had been here.

All of a sudden, something would fall over and clatter on the floor.

Someone *is* here.

Tennis Ball very quickly followed the faint chatter that followed. In hindsight, he had *absolutely* no idea what he was gonna do once they were found; he was just one person, one who didn't even have any arms. Was he just gonna tackle them, or something? What're the chances of that temporarily stunning someone, let alone knocking them out? Doing the numbers in retrospect, his odds weren't looking good.