"hey... Baseball Star... wake uuuup..."
The words, which started as a soft whisper, escalated into a melodious cacophony on the last word which rippled through the lucidity of my dreams.  As the images of clouds and pasture faded I became quite aware of a tickly itchy feeling dominating the entire left side of my body; it was also hard to breathe, and I was extremely warm and a little sweaty.  It slowly grew more intense and I began to move slightly.  It was then that the pain hit me, reverberating up and down the entire left side and building on itself as I tried to take a few quick shallow breaths.  I also had pain on my right side around my hip.

I couldn't help but cry out a bit, it was so excruciating, but it also felt quite funny, like my skin on the left side wasn't touching anything I could feel.  I opened my eyes to total darkness, and part of me started to panic.  As my heart raced, my head began to throb severely in addition to all the left side pain.

"Gah...fucking hurts..." I mumbled to myself, but I was finding it quite difficult to move much.  The throbbing head pain coupled with my left side...bandaged up?  I felt around slowly with my right hand, of which all was fine, and sure enough, from shoulder to leg, it all felt like gauze...and tape.  All I wanted to do was lie down again as I was simply too mangled and out of it to move.  Bits and pieces of the preceding events were starting to return to focus, but each time I tried to piece it together, the pain in my head became too much and I would lose where I started.

Fully snapped back to whatever dreamless reality I could muster, I lay there... counting seconds, trying to slip off into whatever merciful slumber or unconsciousness be had.  No such luck of course.  I heard the voice again.

"oooh, you're awake," she said, and the voice seemed to come from on high, but everywhere.  "Hold on, I'm going to turn on the light; stay still... oh, and shield your eyes."  She giggled slightly.

In short order, an audible click followed, and my entire view was illuminated.  I took one look around, and I kinda wished I hadn't.  the gauze pads which covered my left side were dotted with blood in about a dozen places.  I looked as much as I could, from shoulder to leg, and everything was carefully affixed with medical tape.  Actually, whoever had done so was fairly adept and didn't leave much to chance.

The rest of the picture I noticed was kinda like the reaction in a horror movie when the victim realizes just how dire the predicament is.  Every subsequent detail about the scene snowballs into one great mass of panic, and all one can do is just hope for something to happen that makes it all go away.

Unfortunately that was not my immediate future to behold.

I saw why I was so warm; the soft bedding around me was wispy cotton, and it filled the enclosure in which I laid.  Said enclosure had a lid, and the lid had golden letters on the inside, facing me; they read... "TIFFANY&CO." and the whole box was turquoise.  I craned my neck around a bit and found that where I laid was surrounded by 4 walls which rose about 10 feet high (to me).  That was a shoebox; it was then that the full gravity of the horrific details washed over me like a merciless tidal wave.  I began to hyperventilate and feel quite ill.  This couldn't be, unless it was some kind of insane practical joke... in which case, who the hell would go through all that trouble?

To top it off, I heard singing in the distance, quite loud and seemingly everywhere, but I couldn't see who it was.  I recognized the tune though, heh, sure enough, pounding head and all.  Singing she was, Audioslave's "Your Time Has Come."

Then things got very, very serious.

Blocking out the light, looking down at me with a wry smile and what I would guess was some kind of contempt was a projection screen sized freckly face framed with red hair attached to a neck which flared out into two thicker toned arms and a torso covered by a navy blue v-neck blouse showing quite the ample cleavage.  The faint scent of cinnamon also permeated the surrounding air.

I couldn't react strongly enough.  Instinctively I pressed myself against the bottom of the box making my body as flat as possible (like that would do anything) hoping against hope that somehow I would sink through it and escape, drawing in a big gasp in utter abject horror of sheer shock and disbelief at the scene before me.

It was Angi, and she was somehow gigantic.  I went to move quickly and was stifled immediately by the awful pain in my head and side.  It was utterly debilitating, and all I could do was lie back down and wait for everything to stop spinning.  A soft giggle followed my futile efforts.

"So, Baseball Star, instead of paying up on your debt, like a MAN does when he gets beat, you chose to renege, and try to duck me."  Her tone at this point was very serious, and her facial expression in a simple frown matched that to boot.

"I dont take kindly to that, and thus you find yourself in your current predicament!"

At this point her voice was so loud and forceful, I could only grit my teeth and endure the sound bouncing through my head as she yelled from above.  I only had use of my right arm and I covered my right ear while turning my head to the left in an attempt to drown out the incoming noise.

I raised my hand in front of me, palm facing her, trying to get her to stop speaking so loudly.  I regulated my breathing so I could speak enough to reply.

"But...how did you get so big?  And...and...why am I so fucking hurt?"  I put my head back and drew my arm to my side and tried to mitigate the constant pain at this point, my voice weakly escaping my lips with an audible croak this whole time.

She raised an eyebrow in surprise.  "You honestly don't remember?  Holy hell, maybe you hit your head harder than I thought, but I will fill you in..." I could only move my head slowly side to side in confirmation as she chuckled.  She replied with a firm tone and a matter-of-fact demeanor of which most villains would be proud.

"It's quite simple, really, Clark, so let me jog your memory..."  

"EXTRA BASEBALL!" I yelled at the top of my lungs as I caught the ball in left for the final out of the 9th inning; as I reached the infield, I chucked the ball near the rubber of the mound, and it rolled across and found the where the grass begins.  The crowd, a few hundred folks for a pickup game, which I still couldn't believe there were so many, was a din of boos and murmurs as thankfully my team escaped the jam, tied 6-6.  They flooded the bleachers and many who couldn't find seats there came with blankets to put in the grass near the fences.  It amazed me that Angi, my rival and opposing team captain, was able to find so many to not only show up, but cheer against us; then again, we are playing on 'her' field, my team of guys against her team of women.  I jogged in, joined the rest of my team in the visitors dugout and breathed a sigh of relief.  Now we were moving on to the 10th.

"This shouldn't have happened," said Ron, hands aside his stocky hips shaking his head lamentingly, glove pinned under his arm, wringing his hands in frustration.  "I left my first pitch up, and she nailed it!"  The 'she' Ron referred to was Alicia, their black power-hitting right fielder, having a monster day with 3 hits and 4 RBIs, including, just before, the game tying homerun in the bottom of the 9th.  That sent the crowd of a few hundred into bedlam, because we had come back to take the lead in the late innings.  What's more is that there was no doubt; she absolutely crushed his first offering deep over the fence in left, and when I saw the ball fly hit I didn't even move, because I knew it was history.


Ron, dark hair, dark eyes, 5'10" or so was brought on to close the 9th with us holding a 6-5 lead.  Truth is, I wouldn't have wanted anyone else in there to try and win it for us, as he is probably our hardest thrower, but, these things happen, and thus we keep playing.


I walked over, grinned at him, and simply said, "Don't worry about it; we'll win this..."  I looked more confident saying that than I actually was though; on the fringes of my thoughts were those impending feelings of doom.  I shook them off from time to time, yet still they encroached.  I only hoped that somehow we'd win the day with this seesaw battle.


I shot a glance over to the girls' dugout, the home team.  It was all positive, high fives and small cheers abound, and at this point they had all the momentum.  In the middle of that throng was, of course, Angi, with half of her catching gear on.  Right as she double fived her teammate, Kelly, up high, she stared across the field, into our dugout.  I looked over as I was done addressing everyone for the moment and our eyes met.  We locked gazes for a good second or two, and she returned mine with a mischievous little smirk.  Her dark blue eyes, part of a cute face with smaller features framed by flame red hair made me space for just a moment.


Then something odd happened.


I could feel my eyes get wide at the sight of it... or what I thought I saw anyway.  We were but 50 feet apart in opposite dugouts, but I could swear I saw her eyes glow at me.  It was only for a split second, but it couldn't be the sun because it was lower in the sky behind their dugout, so they were all in shade.  She continued to hold that smirk, and I couldn't help but reaffirm how attractive she was to me even though today she was the enemy.  I had to think, though, that there was something strange about all of this, but there was no way I could relay to everyone what I just saw; they'd think I'd gone daft, and this late in the game, why generate such diversions.


Angi wasn't a thin girl as she did have a little extra weight, but she was also a great athlete, and while a bit pale being fair, she was quite toned to boot.  She had hit the ball hard today so far, but had nothing to show for it in 3 at bats; it was a little jarring with each shot, and equally relieving when they were all outs.


 She had, however, gunned down 2 of our base stealers, so she was no joke.  My brief fascination was interrupted by Ron, and it was probably better for that; she was soon joined by several of her team, looking over at our dugout like predators that could smell fear.


"Who's up, Clark?"


I turned to Ron, then looked around at everyone else.  To be honest, everyone looked a little down, and a few looked like they wanted to go home, but I wasn't about to let this attitude prevail.  The time to lift everyone's spirits was now, and that fell to me.


"Listen up guys; they're just delaying the inevitable.  Let's score some and get it done in 10.  Don't let any of them believe they can come back and win this, because..."  I paused for words, if only for a few seconds, but what seemed like an eternity in conversation, and the team looking at me expectantly to finish the thought.  I began to pace the dugout.


"...well...do you really want to face the music knowing they beat us?  So let's finish and win.  I'm tired, I'm hot, and I want to end it too."  I remained upbeat with a sly grin, trying to instill the same swagger in everyone else.


"Anthony, Ron, me, next 3 in the order; Ant, get a bat, Ron in the circle."  I sighed, realizing that between the 3 of us, there was a total of 1 hit.  Somebody was going to have to change that pattern.


Anthony, rail thin beanpole he was, led off the inning.  The opposition also changed pitchers for this and brought in that girl Kelly.  Average height, stocky frame, but very busty, and had her shoulder length brown hair in a simple short pony tail.  I also noticed she was throwing harder than the other 3 girls had all day.  She made short work of Anthony, as he was down swinging in 4 pitches, and he pounded the dirt with the bat in frustration back to the dugout.  I didn't get any sound from his outburst, but it looked like he swore, and the cheer of the crowd easily overwhelmed that.


I took his bat (he uses my favorite, the moniker on it is "Black Magic") and prepped swings in the on deck circle.  I watched Ron take on Kelly.  Ron hung in there; 8 pitches later, he hit a scorcher to the hole at shortstop.  I had to marvel at the girl, Abby, playing short; she dove to her right, snared it right before the grass, got up and fired it across to get him by half a step.  It was a horrible break indeed, because he did everything he could, and he just happened to hit it to the tallest girl on the team, who had to use every inch of her 6 foot 1 stature to fully extend and stop the ball from reaching the outfield; in the end, she made a great play, and there were two outs, and the damn crowd roared louder.
Bat standing vertical, hand on top, I crouched in the circle, closed my eyes tightly, scrunched my face, heaved a heavy sigh, stood up and approached the batter's box.


 My good friend Frank, hitting 5th in the order, waited on deck.  I was cleanup today.


The pressure was on me to keep the inning alive in some way; coax a walk, slap a single, whatever; I just wanted to get on base more than anything at this point.  It'd been a tough day for me so far also.  Other than the single I beat out I'd struck out twice, both looking; personally I think the ump's call zone was a little big, but you can't argue these things or they'll throw you the hell out.  Besides, I always find 'Strike 3 Called' to be somewhat humiliating, because I have that nagging feeling in my head that I should have done something, like maybe swung at the damn thing.


Kelly got set to throw her first pitch.  I swung at it and caught air, of course, grabbed the barrel of the bat in my left hand in disgust as the ump stated... "Strike One."  The crowd cheered, it seemed, a bit louder this time around; as the captain of the visiting team, I guess I'm the 'main villain,' so if it seemed to me they wanted my demise a little more in my at bats, that's probably a good reason why.  The crowd jeers more, I guess, if they know exactly who to jeer.


Kelly threw her second pitch.  I hammered it and had a great feeling... that is, until I looked up and saw where it was going; foul, down the right field line by about 30 feet, landing in the side grass harmlessly out of play.  I shook my head, because she had made a mistake and totally gotten away with it.  I jumped on it faster a new trampoline for the first time and my over eagerness disrupted the timing of my swing; she had all the momentum, and the crowd, of course, because they cheered for the 0-2 count.
"Two quick strikes, baseball star! I can see you're getting tired.  How much more ya got?"  This rhetoric had been going on all game.  Those words, followed by a giggle, came from behind me as I was about to step into the box.  It was Angi of course.  I rolled my eyes and turned back to look at her with her mask on looking up at me smiling.  I shook my head side to side at her equally smiling, except this time nothing strange happened; I dismissed the incident at that moment to weariness.


"Just keep quiet and catch like you're supposed to," I said, glaring at her smugly.  "Don't be shit talking now.  At least I have a hit, and why do you keep calling me that?"


"For now, Clark, for now; just don't lose the game, or you know wha-at." She mused in a sing-song manner.  Truth is, I knew exactly 'what,' and by this time I was zoned in awaiting Kelly's next offering.  At this point the crowd wanted the inning over, so they were cheering before the pitch was thrown, then hushed immediately as it hit the dirt near the plate, and Angi had to block it from getting away.  She tossed it back and resumed her chatter.


"Of course, she's gonna have to throw better than that if she wants to get you out, hahaha."  I ignored it and set up again in the box.  I started to really concentrate and thought about the situation.  I bat left, she throws right, so the opposite situation favors me.  She was still ahead a ball and two strikes, but she couldn't risk throwing too much more garbage because that would even the count.  I dug in and waited.  The crowd noise had picked up again, eagerly anticipating an out.  Kelly set, and delivered, and I swung at what I saw... and it sounded like a pretty good knock.


The ball started to carry down the right field line, heading toward the corner of the fence and the foul pole.  I started to jog down the first base line watching intently, hoping against hope it stayed on the fair side of the line and it might have been deep enough.  Alicia gave chase approaching the corner, looking up, glove up, alternating like that between taking a few steps and moving her head.


I then saw the sign I was looking for.  Her glove came down, and her head turned to look behind.  She was against the fence, which was only a little taller than she was (about 6 feet), and the foul pole was within reach.  Seconds after, the ball landed in the grass behind the fence, a scant two feet or so fair, and far enough away


from Alicia that she couldn't jump to get it.  This was right before I got to first base.  The feeling and adrenaline surged upon seeing that, and my left arm went up in the air triumphantly with a fist pump as I rounded the bag celebrating a solo homerun with a loud and pronounced "woooooooo, YEAHHHH!!!" 


The only cheers when that ball cleared the fence were from my dugout as they all celebrated the instant lead.  The greater crowd was pretty quiet, as the home team was on the short end of the scoreboard.  I touched the rest of them and came back to high fives, pats on the back, yelling and the like, and  I was happy to be able to contribute so meaningfully after what was mostly a frustrating day.


We now led 7-6 and were just 3 outs away from winning this game.


Though as I touched home plate, there she was, Angi, again with a smug smile on her face.  It's funny because the turn of events left her seemingly largely unfazed.  I had the feeling that she almost knew something I didn't, like suddenly the hit wouldn't count or something.


"Nice hit, baseball star," she said with a grin.  "Think your lead will hold?  Hahaha, we got you where we want you now."  And she looked at me, trying to goad a reaction, but instead she received a rather stoic reply.
"There's that name again," I replied, looking directly at her.  "I'm no star," I said, shaking my head as I turned to head to the dugout.


She continued, calling after me.  "Better hope no one reaches, otherwise I'm up, and you can't hold me down forever!"  She then threw the replacement ball back to Kelly, and the inning resumed.


It was then that Frank stepped in the box to bat.  Kelly got him on the next pitch, a check swing ground ball to 3rd; Tabitha, a short brunette, threw him out easily, and we were done batting.


We began to get ready for the field again, when I noticed Ron crouching down holding his arm, wincing in pain.  I walked over and immediately asked what was up.


"What's wrong dude?" I asked incredulously, hoping that whatever it was would somehow not be as debilitating as it seemed and somehow magically go away.  My hope, however, was not rewarded.


"It's my arm...gah...it's cramped up and doesn't want to go away."  He went to try and move it and winced some more.  Of all unfortunate things to happen, right now, extra innings, close game, and the guy who's supposed to shut the door is suddenly unable.


I closed my eyes and put my middle finger and thumb on my temples massaging them.  I didn't think it would come to this, but the possibility existed.  The feeling filled me with impending dread, but who else was going to do it.  Most of the guys on the team didn't want to or know how to pitch, other than lobbing up batting practice pitches which would lose it for us for sure.  I would have to save the game; I would have to be the one to get 3 outs for us to win.  3 outs, don't give up any runs.


"Hope ya have your best stuff," he said weakly, trying to massage his arm while doing so.  "I'm done throwing, dude, this isn't getting any better."  He then started  jogging out to left field, replacing me.  I shrugged and contemplated the situation.  I don't throw hard, but I have one thing working for me.  When I do it right, I can throw a pretty good knuckleball; I only hoped it would flutter enough to have them waving through it, and often enough to last one final scoreless inning.

I took as long as I could, playing over and over again all potential scenarios in my head.  Some  were good, and some were bad, but this was only to forestall the inevitable.  I was to go out  there and attempt to close the game.  This part of it I was not going to escape.  

Finally I could  delay no longer, and trudged out onto the mound.  My heart was pounding, my mind was racing, and I  had about one minute to throw a few warmups.  

The catcher, Sean, was at the ready, glove up, and I  began to go into my tosses.
About 3 or so in, an inquisitive female voice from the opposing dugout was heard, "Is that... are  you throwing a knuckleball?!"  What followed was a bit of a din from the rest of them.  I ignored  it and continued to labor throws toward the plate.

After 8 of them, I motioned that I was done and dug into the mound awaiting the first batter of  the inning.  At this point I was a bundle of nerves, and honestly I didn't know why.  It was a  friendly game, albeit with quite the attention from a crowd that had shown up to watch, but maybe  I also felt like I had something to prove.  I'd known Angi quite awhile, and she did like to talk  her fair share of trash.  But that's something we did as co-workers and somewhat as friends, of  sorts.  A palpable tension was there often times, but we never let it blur the lines, as to say.

Still, me winning would settle this latest chapter once and for all, which is what I really  wanted.

Abby led off the inning and stepped into the box.  She kept a loose grip on her bat and jiggled it  wildly in her stance, while her bleach blonde hair, matted to her forehead in front from the  sweat, swayed in the slight breeze.  I took a deep breath, and threw my first offering.  She  waved, and made contact, and up it went... but this one wasn't leaving the infield.  In fact, it  was coming down right in front of the mound.

I ambled forward, waving my arms to call everyone else off yelling "I got it! I got it!" and let  it fall into my waiting glove.  One out.  A subtle fist pump followed my short walk back to the  rubber.  Two more to go.  I swung my arms across my chest back and forth and stretched them out as  I awaited the next batter.

Tabitha walked up and dug into her stance; opposite side of the box, however, being left-handed.   She was considerably shorter than Abby, so her zone would be smaller.  Still, I was pumped, and I  decided to try and force her hand.  I threw the first ball over the plate, but closer to her, and  she did swing like I wanted, pulling the ball in a chop down the first base line.  I gave chase,  as did Anthony at first base, and immediately I motioned him back to the bag.  About two thirds  the way down the line I waited for the ball to drop as Tabby was running toward me and the bag.   In one motion I reached above her, careful to not impede her running, snared the ball with my  glove, and touched her with my glove (and the ball) on the shoulder, and held the ball up for the  first base umpire to see.  He pointed at my glove, and made the "out" signal.  I couldn't believe  it; two pitches, two outs, and I was amped up as I jogged back to the mound.

The crowd at this point was a nervous murmur of impending loss, and the reaction on the field from  my teammates couldn't have been more opposite.

"One more, Clark, set her down!"

"Come on buddy, let's finish this!"

"Doing a great job, keep it up!"

I'd need the morale boost, because Alicia was the third (and hopefully final) batter, and admittedly the most dangerous.  She had at this point absolutely killed our pitching, torching us for a field day of RBIs and clutch hits, including the reason why we're playing 10 innings.  I had to chase it from my mind; that was then, this is now.  I had to set her down, and I had to end this.  My guys wanted nothing more, and I owed it to them to put it away.

She dug in, right handed hitter.  She appeared a lot more confident than the previous batters, stance unwavering, eyes fixated on me and my delivery, anticipating clobbering another pitch.  I began my windup and threw...

...and as I planted my foot to release the ball, it didn't land right and wobbled me off balance.  I continued with the motion because I couldn't stop, and I threw anyway, and immediately felt dread upon seeing it.  The ball sailed forward, and Alicia instinctively turned her head back toward the umpire and braced as she crouched her body slightly; the ball impacted her squarely on the left shoulder blade.  What followed was a collective gasp from the crowd as the ball landed in the grass next to the batter's box.  The umpire motioned for Alicia to take 1st base, as is the rule for a hit batter, but that absolutely wasn't happening, at least right away.

She threw her helmet down and stared at me hard, piercing brown eyes unrelenting in their steely gaze.  Her hair back in a simple pony tail she kept ahold of the bat and took a few steps menacingly toward the mound.

"You FUCKING ASSHOLE!  What the FUCK is your problem?!"  Her words spit out like venom, frothing with hatred, and immediately Sean and the umpire rushed to stop her from moving any further.  The umpire took greater charge of things and personally took her by the arm and escorted her to first base.  However, all of this didn't stop her verbal tirade.  

"I've been torching you guys all goddamn day, and like a pussy you fucking hit me?! Whatsa matter, Baseball Star, afraid I was gonna take yo' asses yard again?"  I hated Angi for starting that shit; now she's got everyone calling me that stupid name.

I gave Alicia a nonplussed expression back and simply stated, "It was an accident; I slipped coming off the mound on delivery; did you not see me way off balance? Why the hell would I hit you with a one run lead?"  At this point I was as heated as she was, being accused of such mischief.

She was unconvinced.  "That's bullshit!  Fucking pussy move; I hope Angi makes you pay for that shit!"  At this point, the umpire was tired of the noise, and the din from the crowd was one of boos and unpleasantries.  He took the time to quiet everyone down, and he warned both benches that the next incident as such would warrant an immediate ejection.

 Finally the crowd got back into cheering for the outcome, Alicia took her base, and we all settled back into the game.

And yeah, Angi was next.  There she was, in her glory, a wry smirk on her face, and of course, she couldn't wait to talk more shit.  "So this is how it ends, Clark the Baseball Star, and Angi, the villainess come to thwart the hero; baby, I'm gonna be your kryptonite!"  She followed that with a wink and a kiss sound toward me.

It was truly so awful sounding that I wanted to laugh.  "If your line were any more bad, it would make a B-Movie look like an Oscar winner," I said as I laughed.  "Now shut up and lose already," as I kept my smile.

She shook her head side to side as she dug in and looked at me squarely.  "We ain't losin' hate to spoil your plans..." as she waited for me to throw.

I set, looked toward Alicia to make sure she wasn't stealing, and threw my first pitch.  It tailed inside toward Angi and my heart leaped into my throat briefly, as I was alarmed at the previous result still, and it began to drop toward the ground.  She swung at it anyway to my surprise.

She did not miss.

If ever there was a feeling that something bad was about to happen, and that the casual onlooker (which I and everyone else on the field at the time became) could do nothing about it, said instance had how arrived.  She put a golf swing on the ball and hit a screamer down the left field line; it was curling toward the corner of the fence.  Alicia had already taken off running and was well on her way to 3rd, not stopping, since there were already two outs.  Ron gave chase, jogging over to the corner but it was well past him at this point.  The line drive approached the fence corner, and almost like destiny with a dull, audible ping, hit the foul pole flush and bounced back toward Ron.

Final Score -- Girls 8 Guys 7 in 10 innings.

The crowd erupted in celebration, as I looked skyward in abundant disbelief, completely shocked at what just happened.  Angi put a swing on a garbage pitch and won the game; I still couldn't believe it.  As I began the walk to the dugout, the girls had already poured out of theirs and were waiting for her to circle the bases so they could mob her at the plate.

I got the expected consolation from my teammates, the "good games", "we tried hard", and the like, but it just wasn't enough.  I was pissed; somehow I had snatched defeat from the jaws of victory, and it was indeed a bitter pill to swallow.  This one fell unequivocally and completely upon my shoulders.  I realized that in the 4 pitches I threw all inning, literally nobody else on the team had even touched the ball.  I had made the first two outs myself, the third ball hit Alicia and never made it to my catcher, and the 4th pitch was hit out to end the game.  I couldn't blame anyone at all for this.

Worse yet, I had lost our bet, and now she was going to make me wear a stupid hat.

 Why I ever agreed to this, I don't know, but right or wrong, I wasn't going to stand for it.

I told everyone I had to get going and feigned not feeling well and such, wished everyone well, and headed out.  Behind me as I strolled quickly toward the jeep, I heard a female voice, Angi's, calling for me.  I got into my vehicle and pulled away just as she was running toward it with a hat in her hand.  Of course I was far enough away that she couldn't catch me and I had already sped away a great distance.  As the field disappeared behind me, I felt bad for what I did, but I wasn't going to go through with the humiliation.  The hat was black, and on the front in white capital letters, it read "GIRLS > GUYS."  I couldn't subscribe to that; her dumb ass hit one lucky pitch in a close game and won.  They aren't better...

Much to my regret, this (in)action would set off a chain of events that would make me very, very sorry for such a decision.

A thick, chilly fog greeted me during the arrival to work that same night. It hung in the air like a palpable nuisance, forcing a slow drive down the back roads in the looming darkness. All sorts of inconveniencing possibilities hung in the minutes leading to my destination, from the relatively benign but still perhaps destructive, like deer, to something more dangerous, and equally if not moreso destructive, like oncoming traffic. Still, I progressed, and I ended up at the locked gate about 10 minutes after I anticipated, mildly disenchanted that I'd already been thrown behind.

At this point visibility was very poor, causing just about everything surrounding to appear wispy and insubstantial, as if ethereal. Really the only landmark I could be sure of was the monolithic main building I was destined toward some 500 feet in the distance as piercing the fog somewhat were the orange roof lights. As I looked around, I chuckled to myself, thinking it was very similar to what Frodo saw when he put on the ring. It was at that point I realized it had gotten even colder, and now there was a slight breeze, in and of itself not a bad thing, but coupled with the chilly air, it began to make things quite uncomfortable.

I swung the gates open and drove my vehicle in, and began the tedious task of unlocking everything. This included all of the pedestrian gates, and every door on the outside of the building, for the whole perimeter. In standard conditions, this would usually take me about 30 minutes, but this fog just wouldn't let up. Each night I endure this, I secretly wish for something eventful to occur; something, that while somewhat exciting, is relatively low on the danger scale, but something out of the norm nonetheless. In all the years I've been, however, nothing really has, and perhaps even with the monotony I'm better for it, but sometimes...

...I should really just be careful for what I wish.

All around the large square building is a sea of asphalt and a barbed wire topped chain link fence. As I was unlocking the main gate entrance that connects the parking lot with the rest of it, I heard...well at least I thought I did...a giggle...and it sounded feminine. Instinctively, I turned my head to either side, attempting to foolishly glance through the shifting fog. I should add it started to get a bit breezy tonight, just enough to make an eerie whitish swirl, so with it rushing past my ears, perhaps it was something else, well I had hoped anyway.

I entered the building and the door latch clicked shut echoing throughout. The stillness, while perhaps disturbing to some, was something that I'd grown to embrace over the years, also knowing how bustling the building actually can be. Two rows of delivery trucks each flanked a long conveyor belt in the center of it all, and the faint odor of diesel fuel permeated the surrounding air. Soon the place would be crawling with activity, 3 hours til then or so, as the drivers come in to load their trucks with bread deliveries to start the day.

Surrounding the morass of internal structure are inward facing doors that lead to offices and outward facing doors such as the one I entered. It was these I was currently set out to unlock. As I made my way around the stillness, I was on high alert; it could have just been the atmosphere tonight. The fog, the chill, what I thought I heard, and my penchant for not sleeping well as of late probably started to catch up with me. I made a mental note to streamline my days for better shuteye.

Finally I lapped the perimeter and I could get busy doing my work; that was, anyway, until I heard the whistling. The same sixteen notes pierced the air, in a quartet of quartets, and reverberated throughout the inside. Over and over again, I listened intently; they were getting louder, and whoever was whistling slowly seemed to be getting closer.

I waited just outside the office, thinking someone had just arrived early. It certainly wasn't unheard of, for basically any reason. Then he turned the corner. I was relieved, as it was Donald, our maintenance guy. A smallish man, with thinning brown hair, thick dark glasses, and a rotund middle, was carrying a wrench easily the size of my forearm no doubt on his way to fix something.

At least that's what I had thought.

Donald wasn't walking past me...he was walking toward me. He said nothing, closing the distance from about 30 feet. He had two hands on the wrench, resting it idly on his shoulder as he sauntered up. At this point it was severely alarming, and then even more so when the wrench began to lift off his shoulder...and swing toward my head. Instinctively I sidestepped, the wrench just missing my shoulder and striking the water fountain behind me, putting a sizable dent into the stainless steel trough. I looked at his gaze, tracing it down to his wrench. It was unwavering; in fact, I don't recall him blinking at all, almost like he was in some kind of trance.

Quickly, I gave him a two handed shove, and he lost his balance and toppled into a pile of pallets next to where he was standing, sending him down. I took off running in the opposite direction, toward where he was walking. At this point, I immediately regretted silently asking for that 'excitement' I always wanted so bad. What the hell was going on?
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As I rounded the corner, I began to pick up speed, yet as I did, I also noticed off in the distance, yet approaching quickly, inside the building no less, was that same billowing fog as outside! I looked behind me, and none of the garage doors were open. I turned to go back, and when I did, Donald was turning the corner ambling toward me with that wrench. Thinking quickly, I surmised that I could outrun him and double back the other way, but the area he came from was narrow, and he showed no signs of slowing down...or actually any free thought for that matter. It's almost as like he was entranced, and this gave me doubts.

While Donald steadily approached, and I assessed doubling back to be too iffy, one choice remained. I had to take my chances in the fog ahead. Without another pause, I turned and ran into the unknown, the unwavering form of the maintenance man diminishing in the distance until the fog swallowed my surroundings. Although I knew the general layout of the building, and I had an approximation of where I stood, the fog was very chilly, and with the current situation it became a bit difficult to think clearly. The further I went, the more I couldn't see, and the fog around me began to take on a freezing mist quality. I stopped and paused to listen. No longer could I hear Donald's rhythmic footfalls on the floor. For that matter, I couldn't hear much of anything else; all had become eerily quiet...again. My quiet breaths seemed to add to the thick mist around me, as the vapor exited when I exhaled.

A hollow windy sound suddenly stirred up the fog, like a wind selectively tearing through the building; it picked up significantly, stirring it up, thinning it out, to where I could see again. The building was again silent, and I looked around, all directions, and there was also no sign of Donald. That was, until I heard the sound of running boots filling the tranquil air. Coming from the opposite direction, again, was Donald, and this time with a purpose. He had a mean look on his face and the wrench behind his back with both hands running feverishly in an attempt to attack me again, closing distance from about 50 feet away, screaming as he ran toward me.

I turned tail to run, because at this point, I don't know what the hell's going on, because there's a madman chasing me with a goddamn wrench. I tear ass back in the other direction, toward the water fountain, and I get about ten steps, so I turn to look back. My next step hits an oil slick on the floor, a slippery spot I somehow avoided in the chaos that ensued earlier. Since I was already leaning back, this only exacerbated my lack of balance. My feet slid out from under me and I thudded the concrete pretty hard; enough to stun me quite a bit. I understood immediately how prone this just made me, and I tried frantically to scramble up and get away again, but the current pain was much too large to do that effectively. Within seconds Donald hovered over me, angry look on his face, breathing heavily, ready to swing. I did what I could, threw up my hands over my face in a move to block, and waited for the impact. I shut my eyes tightly, extremely terrified, and I heard the wrench clank a bit as it hinged down.

The blow never came.

After an excessive few seconds, I opened one eye, and looked through my arms. The wrench was still, about 6 inches above my block, still attached to Donald's hands, the look on his face the same, but totally unmoving, his entire form, as if in suspended animation. He remained that way for another several seconds or so, before slowly leaning to my right (looking up) and toppling over awkwardly, still in that peculiar position. I slowly got up, a little sore and banged around from the slip, and ambled to my feet. I could feel part of the slick had soaked my shirt in the back, and I could pretty much count on throwing that away, because it wasn't probably coming out.

It was the least of my worries though, poor Donald was still there, in that same position. I approached him, cautiously, and knelt down to see what I could do. As soon as I touched him, there was a sudden reaction; he popped out of his stasis and rolled out the last little bit to stop on his back, arms splayed out in either direction, with the wrench clattering to the floor. I ran to the wall phone nearest all of this to call for help; just like a damn horror movie, the stupid thing was dead. Then I heard a giggle...a very feminine giggle. A voice followed this, as I reached for my cell phone.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you..." it said, hauntingly familiar. Standing about 20 feet away, near the conveyor overlooking the whole scene was...I couldn't believe it...Angi. She jumped down off the platform and walked toward me. At this point I didn't know what to expect; I just had to assume that everything that was weird in occurrence tonight was at least partly her doing, which, if it were true, brought up a whole bunch of other questions I didn't even want to broach.

She continued sauntering forward, eyes fixated on me, like burning into my head. She was dressed differently though, this time. She had on a baseball cap, the team I couldn't quite make out in the shadowy warehouse atmosphere, but the other features were unmistakable. I should have read into it a little more back then, but who realizes that such minor details could foretell such extremes? She wore beige capris, with white sneakers and white socks, but what really caught my eye was the emblem on the front of her shirt, which was white in the torso, and green on the long sleeves. Centered on her chest was a black circle; inside of it was a four leaf clover, an upside down horseshoe, and a number seven, two stripes, in black and red. She actually looked really sporty, and sexy, and I might have been moreso aroused, if I weren't so disturbed by the night's events thus far.

"So tell me, Clark, you asshole," she said, eyes still unwavering. "Was it worth it?" "Was it worth stiffing me over our silly bet?" She waited expectantly for in her mind whatever bullshit answer was going to come spewing forth from me.

I paused, not knowing how to take all of this. "Oh come on! That was total crap and you know it! You got a lucky swing off on a great pitch; and there's no way in hell you should have won that! I was cheated!" I realized how indignant and childish I sounded, since, as it was, I was still very incensed as to how it all went down.

She nodded slowly, as if an orderly were talking to a neurotic psychopatient. "Uh huh...and according to baseball rules, if it hits the foul pole on a fly it's a fair ball, and if the home team is ahead in extra innings, the game ends...so what, exactly, was unfair about following the rules of the game?" She smirked slightly, knowing she had me dead to rights. Again, she waited for my pathetic rebuttal.

I had nothing. "Why this though? Was this all you?" I panned the surroundings with my hand, referring to all the shenanigans that had taken place, and referenced Donald, still lying motionless on the floor.

"Yes," she answered with doubtless conviction, "and I'm also here for a reason." She produced the hat, once again, and extended her arm, and it, out to me. "I'm giving you one last chance to honor our bet; though I warn you, consider your intent carefully, because a continued refusal escalates the reaction from here." She stood there again, waiting, arm extended. Her gaze was neutral, but I got the sense she was ok with either scenario.

I wanted so badly to take the hat. Looking back, I probably dismissed her actions as drugging Donald and really good use of a fog machine, but alas I couldn't believe I would follow such warped logic. I also had a passion for calling bluffs my entire life, a trait that often led to my peril in much more admittedly benign events. For the latter, this was no different. For my actions, I was about to see just how much the reprisal was going to accelerate things. In a fit or what could only amount to sheer nerve, and to her rather nonplussed reaction, I declined to honor the bet a second time.

She nodded a singular time. "Very well then, that opportunity has been waived." She put the hat away in a small bag she had been carrying on her shoulders and continued to speak while doing so. "Something tells me you're going to regret that decision; your actions during this whole time have consequences that extend to a much greater scale beyond the scope of what you believe. I'm assuming you're trying to weasel out of this for a reason, and I'm going to guess it's because of the humiliation you'd suffer from wearing such an item. That, however, is of no concern to me; the greater violation is the fact that you did not keep your word, in front of a litany of witnesses, which gives me all the evidence I need to move forward."

I got this awful sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, like maybe I should have just taken the hat. I put my finger up in an effort to pause her speech. She cut me off immediately.

"You want to wear the hat now, don't you?" She smiled slightly.

I nodded, eagerly.

"Sorry, that opportunity has passed; as I stated before, consider your intent carefully; you dismissed it quickly, now we progress." Her answer to me was somewhat canned, but also matter of fact, and it left nothing to guesswork.

"This is your final opportunity to make things right; it's not nearly as generous as, say, accepting the wager outcome and wearing the damn hat, but it is an opportunity nonetheless. In progressions such as these, I make the rules, and I set the requirements." Her gaze was again unwavering, as she explained what was about to go down.

"Within this building, extending to the property around, except for the parking lot; basically, wherever the perimeter fence is, are the boundaries. If you breach the fence, you lose. If you call for outside help, you lose. If you make it clear you are ending the game before time is up...you lose. For thirty minutes, you must stay upright. What that means, is, if you are taken down, tackled if you will, you lose. Last 30 minutes without a takedown, all is forgiven, and you don't even have to wear the hat." She smiled at that.

"See, Clark, there's something I haven't told you about me," she said coyly, with expression to boot. If there was some kind of big reveal here, I certainly wasn't ready for the wild explanation that was about to ensue. "I am what's called an Agent of Fate; the emblem on my attire signifies good, bad, and neutral spin, as per the clover, upside down shoe, and twin colored seven. The baseball game bet we had was an 'audit' of sorts, if you will, and not only did it show me what kind of a spineless weasel you are, but it also put you in direct violation of everything I represent. You didn't keep your word, and because of it, now you've spun fate, so to say. In reality, I can just impose the reprisal for breaking this word currently, but since you're also my friend, I've decided to give you one...last...chance."

"Stay upright, 30 minutes, go anywhere within the confines of the fence; run, hide, whatever..." She shrugged. "I don't care; you do that, and this ugly little matter goes away. If you fail..." She paused there, almost daring me to ask first.

I didn't disappoint; suddenly the gravity of how serious this might be came into focus. My mouth was dry, and I was barely able to speak, but I somehow squeaked the words out anyway. "What...then?"

Without hesitation she replied, "Your life as you know it ends. You are compelled to serve the whims of those you have violated, in this case, me. You will be fit to serve, until such time as the served deems freedom a just action. In other words, if you get taken down in the next half hour..." She smiled widely as she said this, to my disturbingly palpable horror. "...you become my thrall!" Angi waved her hand in front toward me, and my forehead began to burn intensely. It felt like a bad sunburn, and my disbelief in what just happened was at full tilt. This might be the worst situation ever where I tried to call a bluff.

She pushed the button next to her on the wall, and all the building garage doors around the perimeter opened up. The next sound I heard was a slew of vehicle doors slamming closed in the adjacent parking lot. I looked out to see eight women walking up to the entrance and filing in. They were the other girls on her team.

"Aw, c'mon! That's not fair! You have help!" I shouted. "And what the hell did you do to my head?!" I reached up to touch it tenderly, and it still hurt like hell.

"Remember, my rules, Clark; this is very serious, and it's on my terms. On your forehead is the symbol of thrall; two manacles connnected by a chain. But on another note, I'd so love to have you as mine, so go ahead, resign now, make it easy." She winked, disturbingly. Without another word I took off running, away from whatever Angi is now, and away from all of her 'help.' I remember thinking how badly I wanted my nights to be more exciting, and how much I wanted to renege on that wish now, and how much going back on my word has gotten me in trouble. I turned to look back in time to watch the ladies fan out for the hunt. I liked my life; I wanted it for more than 30 additional minutes.

I didn't waste another moment trying to guess what plan they had in store for me, so I took off running toward the nearest conveyor belt and hopped onto it. The area in which I ran was just the beginning of a mazed framework interconnecting various building sections, and better yet I had one distinct advantage: I convinced Building Security to get a control system completely accessible via smartphone, and moreover, I'd been luckily granted authorization. Wasting no time with this ability, I fired it right up. The belt I dove on began to move quickly as I momentarily scanned the app in my phone's screen, and the noise picked up quite loudly as the structure's internal workings came to life.

Before me on the several inch screen was the general layout of the conveyors running the building. It also told me where I was, how fast they were all moving, and a general sensor system for proper function. A quick check indicated all was clear, now for at least a few seconds it was time to enjoy the ride. I peeked my head over the rails flanking the belt I was riding, and swiveled my head around; I saw no sign of the ladies, which worried me slightly. That disappeared shortly though, as I steeled my resolve and vowed to beat Angi and her ilk. I decided to hop off the belt in one of the back corners of the building and beat a hasty but quiet path atop a higher vantage point.

As I moved silently and efficiently to the nearest ladder up, I heard a building-wide dialtone; someone was using the loudspeaker. As I guessed it was Angi, who started by having some fun with this. As she first spoke, the interference cut into her dialogue a bit, causing an uncomfortable screeching, but briefly.

"Twenty-Nine minutes and seven seconds left, Clark. So you know, I'm on to your ploy with all the noise and such. Don't think this is going to make it any easier to win. I've instructed my ladies to go very rough on you if you're caught, and I know Alicia REALLY wants some payback! One more thing! Since you're probably on one of those belts right now, and not standing in order to keep out of sight, touching you in a prone position ends the game, you know, kinda like the NFL tackle rules, but I doubt you'll just be touched if that happens! Good luck champ; try not to make it too easy! Ha ha ha... "

Seriously, she didn't even wait one full minute to start talking shit, just like the baseball game. As I rode down the belt contemplating my next move, my senses were sharp; eyes and ears were heightened to discern sounds outside the normal melody of building operation. I knew I had to get off this thing and get to a higher vantage point so I could see more of the floor at once. That, however, came with its own set of perils. The catwalks that arrayed the areas above the floor weren't always connected, and often times ladders had to be descended and ascended in kind to access another. Immediately I thought to keep that kind of movement to a minimum as surely it would mean that I'd be caught.

This particular belt bent 90 degrees left down a chute and ramped up on a steady incline, high enough to see throughout the area. I could easily pick out 3 or 4 of them canvassing below, in an effort to end this thing early, as I slid down the bend and rose. I resumed the same position, sitting on the belt, senses heightened once again, looked to my left and right, and up the belt, and...uh oh.

Standing at the top of the belt, moving against it at the same speed so she stayed in relatively the same place, in her tall blond glory, was Abby. It looked like she was waiting for me; she had a knowing smirk on her face and even nodded slightly to boot. At this point I was too far off the ground to try and drop over the side without risk of landing funny or making a huge noise. I looked down at my phone; right as I did she stepped over the safety bar and charged down, hair flowing, like a hungry wolf ' chasing a meal. For a fleeting moment, she looked absolutely beautiful; very tall, very graceful, and must be a hell of a runner with her long legs and lithe body. I was shaken almost immediately from my short fascination when she began to yell.

"Over here! He's over here! On the belt! On the belt!" I hit the phone screen shutting that one off and immediately two things happened. One, Abby's all out running proved her undoing as she fell forward and stopped, stunned, on the decline. Two, like an idiot I stood up, lost my balance, and tumbled all the way down to the base of the chute; somehow I hung onto the phone and it wasn't damaged. Wasting no time, I got up and saw 3 more girls heading over to the belt in an effort to corral me. Fortunately they were all coming from the same direction, so I rolled out the other side, and tore ass down the corridor. I could hear them yelling, in various states of tone and urgency, a general instruction or two as to what happened and where I was headed. I then found a corner exit to the building, and went outside.

Again, with my subtle efforts to keep quiet totally absent, the door sprang open and shut with two very audible "click, bang" noises. I couldn't linger. Someone would know that there was movement in the area. From that door I kept moving in about the same direction I was in the corridor, all in an effort to get away as quickly as possible. While I kept going, I heard a very distinct, rhythmic, high pitched beeping noise. I looked around, and I was about halfway between two corners of the structure; more importantly, my direction of progression was toward the front of the building, and what I saw from where I stood was some kind of red glow. As I approached, the beeping got louder; again, I swiveled my head to make sure I wasn't in immediate danger, as I knew most of these girls could easily outrun me, and a few of them would probably spell the end. I had just enough time for a passing thought and a short chuckle. Most guys would be quite fine with being chased by women, but after what I saw tonight, and even the thoughts as to what was capable, the consequences for such a thing would indeed not be worth such a premise.

I reached the front of the building, and I was greeted by more swirling fog and the noticeable decrease in temperature, which all glowed reddish. I also found the source to it emanating from the building front. A giant digital clock had somehow been hung on the front face, counting, currently, 24:14...24:13...24:12... and then I thought, that's it?! I shook my head in disbelief at the sight of both the clock, and the apparent time left, and hightailed it further over to the dumpster area. I wasn't too concerned with noise at this point; I did look around and thought nobody saw me; I didn't see anyone either, but I wasn't about to take that for granted. Obviously the ability to perceive is reduced when one tends to be in a hurry.

I crouched behind the dumpsters and waited... the vantage point I had was against the corner of the fence, there were 2 ways to move from where I was, and it was far enough away from everything else that I could see any approaching company. 23:50...23:49...23:48... and I began to wait. With any luck I could run out the clock, and they'd never think to look over this way. A couple minutes later, I saw all the garage doors on the front side open again, dispersing the chilly fog. Out stepped 1, then 2, then 4 then before I knew it, all the girls were standing there, looking about, from the same side. They appeared to be formulating some sort of plan; curious though, I could make them out, but...there were only 8, not 9, and the one who seemed to be missing...was Angi. They lingered for a few minutes more, and dispersed, fanning out once again to cover all of the angles. I couldn't believe my luck; they had wasted quite a bit of time planning...something... and when I looked up, the clock had ticked to just below 15 minutes. Nobody even so much as looked over this way. I played with my smartphone a bit and stopped and restarted the belts, hoping to draw some of them back inside the doors. Then, off in the distance behind me outside the fence, a twig snapped. I whirled around and in the process...fumbled my phone, which clattered to the ground in a horrible display of dexterity.

It ended up being a horrible break. The phone's screen was shattered, and it was a brick, and useless at this point. Worse yet, in a failsafe crash of the application, I had it set to immediately stop the belts, and now the area was incredibly quiet. That snapped twig, which was most likely some kind of woodland animal, just indirectly caused me to blow my cover. I waited some more time, tensely; over on the opposite side, I could hear some of them combing the property; at least a few of them had to believe that I was still outside.

More time passed. They seemed to be edging closer to my side, or maybe that was just my paranoia kicking in. As the minutes ticked my, the uncertainty was nothing short of torture. I watched the clock like a hawk, dismissing all of the stereotypical quotes about patience, like a watched pot never boils, etc. It was ticking down to 10 minutes; as it closed under 9:59...9:58...9:57... an audible clang and crash came from over that way. I adjusted my vantage point and I could hardly believe what I saw; the gate connecting the walkway to the building and the parking lot fell off its hinges! There was a way out! I paused to think that this could have somehow been a setup, but I didn't care; I cautiously stepped away from behind the dumpsters and walked, first timidly, looking around, then picking up speed, looking some more, and finally breaking into an all out sprint heading for the opening. I got there, just in time to see Alicia and Tabby standing in the garage door threshold overlooking the open gate.

I looked back at them, and I stood right in front of the entrance. When I saw the clock there was a little over 8 minutes left. I looked back at them once again.

Alicia smiles, looking right at me and says, "You got some time left there buddy. You know if you step through there, it's over, right?"

Tabby chimes in. "Come on, Clark, we barely saw you; come play with us for a little bit more." They both start walking quickly and menacingly over to where I was standing.

I was faced with a hard choice now; end the game, take my chances and try to outrun them. Or play by the rules and hope to find a way to outlast these women for...I looked again, 7 and a half minutes.

In my mind I was convinced I'd never last. I gave them both one last look and stepped through the gate and took off running. In the distance, I saw them run toward the gate, but I was already down the walkway and had turned the corner tearing across the parking lot. I heard Alicia's voice yell something about how I'd be sorry, but I didn't care; I was going to be free from this, and I would figure out how to handle the crazy part of trying to protect myself later. It crossed my mind that I bailed on Angi once again, but again, I didn't care. It wasn't fair that she set this up for her to win, and I rationalized in my mind that it served her right. Let her deal with the fallout with whomever she answered to. I took one last look back at Alicia and Tabby to make sure they weren't coming after me, right as I hit the apron at the base of the parking lot and started to cross the street.

Unfortunately, while I looked back, I wasn't looking ahead, and I never saw it coming. The impact to my right side was beyond painful, and everything that followed happened like it was in slow motion. I was hit so hard I went horizontal, and I could feel a grip around my back and waist and hair all over the front of my torso. Two things went through my head at that point; one, I had such a shortness of breath because I think some my ribs were broken, and two, the impact from the slight decline of the road surface was going to chew me up and hurt like hell.

When I impacted, it didn't disappoint. I could feel the cinders of the loose gravel digging into any available surface of my left side; I also jarred my head and impacted the asphalt pretty soundly which scrambled my circuits pretty badly. When we finally came to a stop, I was rolled over by my assailant, as my vision faded from blurry to black. I could barely breathe, and my clothing and body were very much mangled. Standing over me, was Angi, with a triumphant grin on her face; she looked quite a bit taller, but it was hard for me to hold a gaze, or remain coherent for that matter, so I couldn't be sure.

The last thing I remember before fading to black was hearing the two simple words... "You Lose"

CH 6 - Revelation of the New Normal

"So you see, Clark, this is how we got here." She smiled smugly and convincingly, sure in her completeness of bringing me up to speed. "You are now in service to me, and don't go anywhere, because there's more to tell." She walked across the room once again out of sight to do something, and I then noticed the pulsing, slight burning feeling on my forehead, which reminded me of the symbol still there.

She reappeared, with a chair and sat down next to the table on which the Tiffany box (and I) rested. A new waft of cinnamon scent crested over me, causing me to squint slightly as my nostrils flared. I tried to avoid any excess movement, in light of my predicament, because everything seemed to hurt if I didn't. Angi continued her explanation.

She furrowed her brow, as if momentarily unsure of what to say or how to go about saying it, taking a deep breath to buy some time, then continuing.

"As you know, I told you I'm an Agent of Fate. Well, there are twelve of us. We are greater than man, but not quite divine, as it were. That title lends itself more or less to what you'd expect, except we are the contract enforcement brigade of it; this includes wagers, oral or written. Colloquially we're referred to as 'The Dirty Dozen' because what we do as enforcers often involves, heh, getting our hands dirty, like in your case." Her tone was clinical, but the expression was a bit warmer. I returned her gaze with one of rising incredulity, remaining silent, as she kept talking.

"The majority of my team save for a few of our bench players was all agents." She started counting them on her hands while absent-mindedly rattling off names... "...me, Tabitha, Kelly, Alicia...on and on" then waving her hand dismissively returning to the explanation.

"See, we had this idea. With what we do, there is a palpable amount of down time, so we wanted to occupy it. We're a tight knit group, and we are huge fans of this...baseball...you and your ilk play. We watch the pros play, and we are fans of different teams. Often times, we of course are incognito with our daily lives, including me, which brings me to you. So as we got to know each other, we made our bet." Her expression got very serious for a moment, then she spoke again.

"Your chicken shit antics are in direct violation of everything we stand for, but more to the point, you crossed me directly, and I chose to be petty and hold you to it! What we do we consider important, as it offers accountability to a world with increasingly less agreeability." Her reasoning was almost bordering on lecture at this point, and I began to pay more attention to the different nuances of pain and uncomfortability I had thus endured.

I shook my head shocked, as I had thought this woman to be clearly out of her mind. I cleared my throat as she paused briefly, though my voice still came out raspy. "Are you out of your damn mind?!" As I got louder, the raspiness seemed to fade, but the strain on my body increased the pain. I fought through it, incensed by her dialogue to this point.

"What kind of nutcase--" I started, but she immediately cut me off with a gaze, as her eyes flashed red for just a second. In that time, my cumulative bodily pain had amplified to such a point, simply opening my mouth felt like a monumental task. I shut my eyes tightly as an attempted panacea to withstand the excruciation, in hopes it'd either subside, or, for a fleeting moment, I figured she'd give me the release of death and end the suffering.

I slowly opened my eyes, body still pulsing slightly from the pain, to find her huge face ever so close to me, air expelled from her nostrils, eyes fixated on my now tiny form. That same familiar cinnamon scent absolutely dominated the air, like I was swimming in a candle. She simply said, "I own you now. Don't forget that." Her words were loud enough that I had to cringe while they were spoken. She quickly pulled away after that.

Again she continued. "Enough about us and our mission. As passionate baseball fans, we decided we wanted to do a fantasy baseball thing, but that became boring after a couple of years. We were looking for something a little more...real.  We decided to put our heads and abilities together, and we came up with this." She paused for effect, beckoning my curiosity.

Swallowing hard, I indulged. "This...what...exactly, is this?"

Smiling like she just finished a useful invention, she explained, "We created...reality baseball. At first we wanted to take players from the pros, but we eventually decided that to be too risky. After all, many would notice them suddenly missing from day to day life, so we focused more on...other pursuits, moreso people who wouldn't be noticed missing as much. We formulated an algorithm to filter everyone that lives on Earth into a draft pool of sorts, factoring out obvious disqualifiers like certain ages, a level of renown like I had mentioned, and other metrics, and left the program to its own devices. What followed was rosters of 30, among 12 teams, with each agent being an owner."

She beamed. "And here's the best part. We all did our duties in order to snap them up, catching them red handed in enforcement actions, similar to yours. They all became thralls, just like you! Best of all, each of the players fit into these awesome stadium carrying cases." She disappeared from view and I heard a faint rummaging in the distance.

I felt a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach as the gravity of what she was saying started to weigh on me. This...this couldn't be possible; it just couldn't. But she's gigantic, so apparently that was possible.  Was she saying what I think she was saying? The rummaging stopped and I heard footsteps heading back my way. She once again appeared in view carrying what looked like a large dollhouse type structure, but in the vague shape of a stadium. I began to feel sick, because this was pretty much what I had dreaded.

She set it down and came back closer to me. "So, this is where you'll be living, bunking with 29 others, your teammates. You were my newest algo draftee," she said, flatly, through gritted teeth, "and also my toughest to enthrall." She grinned again.  "Hopefully that means you just have more potential. I have to say I was impressed with your knuckleball, even if the ending to our game was essentially preordained, bet you didn't know that, heh. Most of the random algo selections have little to no baseball ability. There's a fun element to that, but when you have to train EVERYONE, it's a bit of a drag, so it's nice to get a break once in awhile."

My head was spinning at these revelations. I had so many questions, and all I really wanted to do was hope this could be just a dream, or nightmare, and I'd wake up drenched in sweat breathing heavily thinking about what a wild ride it had been. It was real, however, and I began to feel very, very indignant.

I yelled up at her, still very much in pain. "I won't do it! Whatever you're doing here, holding people against their will, it's wrong! Whatever shady operation you have here, I won't be a part of it! I demand you return me to my normal life and my normal size, you crazen psycho! You're nuts!"

She simply smiled wryly, "Are you done yet? I had a feeling you'd be this way. Your request has been declined." She said, matter of factly. "You will suit up, you will play to win, and if you don't, I'll just kill you. What do you think your defiance will accomplish? Do you think rebelliousness such as yours hasn't been attempted before? Of course we've had others here try and be heroes, try to topple what we've created, and the reprisal for such antics was swift and severe. Now understand I don't want to kill you, but if you don't do as you're commanded, you won't leave me with much choice. In your current condition, it really wouldn't take much."

She had all the answers, it seemed. Angi had me dead to rights. What could I do? I didn't know where we were, and I'd soon be holed up in what amounted to be a glorified stadium...dollhouse. I reluctantly decided to choose life, because I didn't see another way out right now. It is baseball, so maybe it wouldn't be so bad. I then asked, "Well, what about this? I...I can barely move. You basically destroyed me when you drove me into the asphalt."

She nodded. "Ah yes, that. Well, I can get you most of the way there, say about 80% healed. All of us have the ability to heal injuries, but, we made a rule stating this ability couldn't be used to fix anyone fully and have them just pop back out onto the field; keeping things fair and all, the injury was my doing. We run all of this just like a league, complete with medical professionals and such, so you'll be rehabbed the rest of the way with them. Oh, and I almost forgot, you'll be resized...much smaller. You'd be a giant compared to the current size of the players. Have to fit inside the stadium, you know!" She laughed at that thought.

She brought her face close to me yet again and said, "Who knows? You could merit your way out of here in...a year? 5 years? 10 years? It's possible. I called you 'Baseball Star' before, but now you're my Baseball Star. Let's see if you live up to the hype."

She produced a gaudy looking pendant with a caduceus symbol on it and opened it up. It almost looked like a miniature studio apartment, complete with bed and furnishings, though not much room. "You'll stay here until you're about 80%, should take a week or less" she said. "From there you'll rehab with stadium facilities." Before I could react, I was resized to fit the pendant. If Angi was gigantic before, she was truly monolithic now. Her red hair looked like many giant ropes, and it suddenly dawned on me, since I was headed for the pendant, that she would be wearing it, and subsequently how busty she actually was. She floated me gently, telekinetically, into the pendant and the waiting bed, closing and locking it. Inside things were serene, and as she donned it, the rhythmic beating of her heart was soothing, and as I looked to either side, her ample breasts held the pendant in place, which gave me an amazing view. It wasn't long before I feel asleep, the worst seemingly over.