Golf Ball was down at her Factory, as per usual.
The current state of the Battle for Dream Island: The Power of Two was a complete and total mess; it already was for pretty much all of its history, from when that speaker box fell from the sky, to when they decided (for *some* reason) to do it all over again, to that brief break in Yoyle City, to Four starting things up all over again, to Two splitting the show in... two, to the present day. But this time around, it seemed to be... *more* so. Everything seemed to be a little bit more of an issue, more of a thorn on her side, than it usually was.
The contests have been continually raising the stakes higher and higher, straying further and further from the usual shenanigans they got up to. The Team Swap was still in recent memory, throwing the bozo-brain bossy-bot into a team that absolutely hated her guts. There's also the underlying mystery permeating throughout it all; the possibility that there was something, *someone*, out there pulling at the strings behind the scenes, capable of things that not even that green algebralian was capable of figuring out, let alone stopping.
GB figured it was bound to happen at some point, but she always reckoned that she was gonna have more time. Despite it very clearly being a logical fallacy, she hoped that the universe would end its *incredible* streak of bad luck, stop throwing them so many obstacles and curveballs, and just let them take a break for a second. But no. Of course not. *They* didn't stop and rest for a second, and so neither will the unthinking, unfeeling universe. This whole thing, all of it, was the natural result of over a decade of incompetence and ineptitude. The contestants of the Battle for Dream Island only cared for themselves, only saw the short-term, and couldn't be bothered to think about how things would go in the long run. They had all the chances in the world to stop their downward spiral, 2,763 opportunities to rectify their mistakes, and they spat on each and every one. And now, they were paying the price for their ignorance. They've emerged from their cocoon of naivete, realizing that the world was just as harsh, just as painful, as it was when they had started. Perhaps even more so, given that it had so much time to mature. Now, they were completely at the mercy of forces and powers beyond their control, a proverbial giant boulder that threatened to crush them no matter what they did.
...Well, *maybe* there was a chance.
Though recent evidence has indicated that it wasn't as epic and amazing as everyone had thought, The Power of Two still looked to be leagues ahead of *anything* they could muster, any strength they could build up. Whoever ended up winning the competition would win that power, and with it would win quite a lot of control over their lives, their destiny, and the lives of everyone else in this silly little competition. For the time being, anyway; distant threats still loomed, but they were gonna cross that bridge when they got there. If Golf Ball was able to persevere, if she was able to overcome her many, *many* disadvantages, if she was able to win the favor of the faceless voters, if she could *just* win that power, she could do so much with it. She'd finally be able to realize all her large-scale ambitions, everything she ever dreamed of. She could personally lead a new golden age of logic and reason, a world made significantly better through advances in science and technology, a world that would have no need to derive entertainment by beating each other up and fighting over some prize they'll likely never get to see. It *seemed* hopeless, it always had, but if she gave up hope, if she decided to call it quits, then it'd *truly* never get done. All things start from one single desire, one thought in their mind; all else develops around that core concept.
Which is why GB was down at the Factory. Her team hated her, the other teams obviously hated her, and the outside world, as inanimate as it may be, seemed to hate her as well. Down here, in that metal labyrinth, surrounded by all sorts of gadgets and gizmos, this was the only place where she felt comfortable, where she felt at ease. Except in the rare occasion where they *specifically* wanted to mess with her, nobody would want to go down here willingly. 999 times out of 1,000, she could expect nothing and nobody here but herself. Herself and Tennis Ball, maybe, but he was on another team these days. Indeed, it was just her. All on her own. In isolation. Nobody else.
