Alternate Battle for Dream Island

ABFDIA 18c: You're All Alone

Once again, things were silent in Dream Island.

Well, perhaps a bit *too* silent. Maybe.

Match would wake up after a nap of indeterminate length, feeling well rested and ready to take on a new day. But very quickly, that sense of peace and tranquility would be replaced by ominous dread and fear. It had been *ages* since she'd been able to close her eyes, rest somewhere comfortable, and *not* be woken up by someone or something causing a ruckus and ruining what little sleep she was able to get. For a little while, it felt as if she was *never* gonna get a moment of true peace for the rest of her life. Between the Battle for Dream Island, the subsequent commotion afterwards, and the lingering loose ends, all the questions left unanswered, she figured that there was gonna be *plenty* to keep her brain occupied, to keep herself worried, in the days, weeks, months, and years to come. And that's *also* on top of all the gossip and rumors that's been going around, that she's been trying her hardest to keep track of and figure out.

Simply put, the matchstick just wasn't quite buying it. She, much like everyone else, wasn't all too willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, but when you've been competing for as long as they have, one tends to develop an instinctual urge to be suspicious and skeptical. *Especially* when you're in the same circles as the Firestarter.

Most of the other contestants think of her and Pencil as just being regular, ordinary troublemakers. A few perhaps think of them as being *exceptional* nuisances, but that's about it. They see all their hushed whispers and constant insults towards everyone and everything as just another way of being obnoxious, as yet another way to distract themselves from their *very* obvious shortcomings. Well, perhaps it's obvious to a very particular set of eyes. They don't seem to understand, they don't *want* to understand, that there's so much more nuance and depth going into their every thought and move, that this 'mindless' gossip has a lot more strategy and cunning than one would expect. It's just the two of them, after all, and around fifteen-ish of them; there's *absolutely* no way they could keep track of everyone, no matter how badly they wanted it. That's part of the reason why they wanted to win Dream Island, really. Perhaps corralling everyone into a single location, one which they controlled with an iron fist, could help somewhat. As a result, they *had* to rely on second-hand accounts, from the overheard words of others, all sorts of grumblings and groanings about the latest happenings, about who has done what to whom, where and why, and in what manner. They have to sift truth from fiction, reality from lies. And then, of course, they have to figure out when the *best* time is to start hanging it over their heads, to make them do a silly little dance in the name of preventing their embarrassment.

As much as Golf Ball *desperately* wanted to believe that this was an affair that took little to no effort, yet another childish, selfish distraction to keep themselves from doing what *really* mattered (according to her), they've ended up developing an extensive repertoire in order to remain a step or two ahead of everyone else, to always have a few tricks up their sleeve just as everyone's about to catch up. One thing they've picked up on to maintain their lead is perhaps something GB *would* be proud of, were it not for her being blinded by her all-consuming hatred. Match and Pencil knew better than to just *accept* facts, to agree with whatever's placed in front of them. In a rare instance of these living objects getting smarter, they know what the two have been getting up to and have decided to fight back, even if it's in a rather crude and pathetic manner. There've been plenty of times (more than they'd like to admit) where they've *happened* to overhear a piece of juicy gossip, subsequently use it to blackmail someone, only for them to laugh it off and insult them for being *so* dumb as to believe those blatantly fake claims. They grew wise to that scheme rather quickly, though the arms race has continued, ever so silently, up until the present day.

And so, when the matchstick woke up to find nothing amiss, with nobody around but herself and the writing utensil (who was still, *very* clearly, in the middle of her nap), and with nothing to hear other than the distant rumblings of the waves, she knew better than to just go back to her slumber. This can't *possibly* be it. The world would never give her something so generous, so good, and expect *nothing* in return. That'd be extremely unlike everything else that has happened in this miserable rock. Something was *bound* to happen. Blocky and his gang were probably planning a prank right now, or Flower was just about to enact her revenge, or *somebody* was gonna randomly bump into them and drag them into some dry, dull, boring conversation. It was only a matter of time. She had to be ready for it, and she had to be ready for it *ASAP*.