Alternate Battle for Dream Island

ABFDIA 16a: Host's Nightmare 4

The following few hours were a little... *awkward*.

The tense staredown continued for far, *far* longer than anyone would like to remember, but ultimately, like most (if not all) things in the universe, it'd end. Both sides would walk away, a grumpy little frown on their faces, but ultimately satisfied, thinking that they were the ones that emerged victorious. Golf Ball figured that she was able to stand her ground, assert herself to be the powerful, terrifying force she knew herself to be, despite all her... limitations. Pin felt as if she sensed a hint of weakness on GB's face, just the slightest trace, but very much detectable. She obviously tried to hide it as best as she could, but she couldn't *possibly* do it 100%. She knew full well that nothing can be done for certain, in its totality. The pushpin reckoned that the cracks would further show themselves any moment now, that the team tyrant would eventually give in and profess that she *needed* help; help from someone that actually knew what she was doing, an actually competent, brave, heroic leader like her.

Coiny and Taco, meanwhile, were glad that they could finally get away from all of... *that*.

Whatever the conclusion may be, however, there was still one certainty in common between them: it was gonna take some time. *Plenty* of time. A lot of it. As the two sides returned to whatever they were doing, they started drafting up plans for what they were gonna do in the meantime, how best to make up for all the time they've wasted doing all of... *this*. Time was ticking, time was limited, time was precious. They knew they only had so much of it to spend on bringing their plans into motion, that it was gonna run out before either of them knew it. They had to act decisively, and they had to act fast.

Tennis Ball wondered if they could *possibly* go any faster, though.

For a little while, he just stared at the door, wondering if he should follow after Pin and the others. It wasn't like there was anything and anyone waiting for him down here; when he finally snapped out of that little trance, Golf Ball was nowhere to be found. A quick search around the premises revealed that she was already back to putting together the pieces, and was solely focused on that one activity. She even bothered to relocate the metal bits to a more secluded corner of the base, even though that was yet another series of headaches.

Time passed. Seconds turned to minutes, which became hours. Once again, that little episode of activity and buzz had come and gone, and now it was back to the boring, long interlude. Tennis Ball could feel each and every moment fading away, lost into the pages of history. It was starting to become unbearable; it already was back then, but now it was... *more* so. All he wanted at this point was a conclusion, some resolution. Rain or shine, win or lose. He just wanted it to be over and done with.

"...So, that's that?"

TB would barely notice the words escaping his mouth; given the few seconds of delay before Golf Ball's response, it sure did feel like nothing happened at all. "...What's what?" The dimpled despot scoffed, shaking her head, before immediately returning to her activities. The fuzzball seethed. "You can't just ignore the problem until it goes away, GB." He'd reply. "You and I know that."

Awkward silence followed.

"...You're *really* doing this?" He'd continue. "You just said that you think befriending me was a mistake, and now you're pretending like that never happened?" He tried his best to hold back his tears. "...Golfy, don't you know how much that hurts?"

The smaller sports sphere took one look at him, and wasn't swayed one bit. "...You know I didn't mean it." She'd reply. "I was just-" "Do I?" Tennis Ball interrupted. "Do I *really*? You've said time and time again that emotion is nothing but a crutch; if I'm led to believe that you follow that to the letter, then that *must* mean..."