The Great Belligerency [Round 4: Static]

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

---

The oddities of the stadium extended to time itself. From an outside perspective, about fifteen minutes had passed between the stadium's emergence and Ur withering the beanstalk beneath it. Inside the stadium, however, it had been three hours, and when the shaking began, the audience and players had already experienced several similar tremors. Nobody found it odd after the earthquake, the dinosaurs, and the tornado; if anything, it seemed rather mild.
"I can't believe we're not winning yet!" Phil grumbled to Cole in the dugout. "We just can't hold onto the lead."
"What does it matter?" Cole grumbled. "This game is utter nonsense."
"So how come you're still playing?" Phil asked. "You've been here as long as I have."
"Because, as best as I can tell, I need to hit Balance with the ball when I'm at bat."
Phil just stared at him.
"Oh, is that what you've been trying to do? Geez, that explains how they got another five points so fast." Then he smirked. "Seriously, though, if you wanted to take a shot at Balance, you should have just told me. Here, I'm about to pitch again, let me give him a few lumps for you."
And before Cole could give a response, the coach ordered them both out onto the field. Phil stepped up to the pitcher's mound, and Cole walked halfheartedly over to center field.

Somewhere in the last few innings, the role of pitcher had moved from Cole to Phil without any warning. Not that it bothered either of them; Cole didn't care in the slightest what position he played, and Phil was unimpressed with Cole's pitching record. It hadn't changed the score much on the whole, though.
Balance was up to bat. Phil looked at the sunball in his hand, and then looked at the batter.
Then he smiled. Time to have a little fun. He had pretty good aim, after all.
Balance readied himself. Phil threw the ball. Balance swung...
"STEE-RIKE ONE!"
He'd missed, but that was the least of his concerns - the score was balanced, after all.
No, the greater concern was where Phil had thrown the ball, which was also an intense flaming ball of gas. He screamed in pain and fell to the ground.
Phil laughed. That had been fun, plus it had been a strike...
But apparently that didn't matter, as one of Balance's teammates ran over, wearing football gear. He picked up the sun and hurled it over Phil's head. It sailed through the goalposts which Phil was certain hadn't been there a second ago.
"Touchdown!" Carl shouted.
From the outfield, Cole just stared at Balance, writhing on the ground in pain.

****

"This game really doesn't make any sense, you know," Crow commented as he dug his head into Soft's bucket of popcorn. "I mean, I don't know much about baseball, but I don't think you score touchdowns in it."
"Mmm," Soft muttered.
"I can't even keep track of what inning it is, if they're still calling them that. Weren't there something like three seventh innings?"
"Four," Soft answered absentmindedly.
"Four. And yet we haven't had even one fifth inning! I don't know how anyone can follow this game."
"Me neither," Soft murmured.
"Well, I mean, the score hasn't changed all of a sudden," Crow continued, chewing on a few more kernels. "Always one point at a time, when one of the teams does something. I think the teams switched scores once, but that's the only weird thing I've seen with it."
"Mmm."
"Funny thing, though. Whenever one team gets ahead, the other gets a point real fast."
"Oh?" Soft asked halfheartedly.
At that moment, Phil threw another ball. This time, Balance hit it, and then slowly walked to first base.
"Watch, bet it's gonna happen again now."
Phil quickly rushed off the mound, stepped in front of Balance, and stuck out his foot. Balance tumbled to the ground, and the scoreboard went from 10-9 to 10-10.
"Told you," Crow said, grabbing another mouthful of popcorn. "And I'm not even sure how they just scored. He just tripped the guy, after all."
"Interesting," Soft mumbled.
"You feelin' all right?" Crow asked. "I just realized you haven't said much. I know I can be a talkative fellow and all, maybe I just like to hear the sound of my own voice, but..."
"The story," Soft replied blankly. "I don't understand it at all."
"What?"
"There's a game. There's a war. Nature is out of balance. Which is the story? Who's the hero? Who's the villain? What's the message of it all?"
"I dunno," Crow said. He would have shrugged if not for the fact that it was hard to do that with wings. "Gotta say, though, I don't much care for this Girnham fellow. I mean, that last throw, downright unsportsmanlike."
"Yeah," Soft said. She sounded a little more thoughtful than before.
Crow looked back at the field.
"And that! Tripping Balance wasn't enough for him, looks like."
Soft stared at Phil, who had stepped on Balance's prone back and was doing some sort of victory dance.
"Now that's just in poor taste all around," Crow grumbled, before shoving his face into the popcorn again. "He's not even a good dancer!"
"You're right," Soft said. She stood up suddenly, dropping the bucket of popcorn to the floor.
"Hey! A little warning would be nice!" Crow shouted. He flew up, now covered in popcorn. "Do you have any idea how hard it'll be to get this butter out of my feathers?
"I understand the story now," Soft said. She sounded determined "Phil Girnham needs to learn that cheaters never prosper."
Crow was skeptical that this was actually the main story, but the look on the Spirit's face told him not to argue the point.
Besides which, this sounded much more interesting than trying to make sense of the game.
"You might be on to something there," he agreed. "Any way I can help?"

***

"Amala, Amala, Mother Amala, we beg your forgiveness."

Ur looked over the assembled tribesmen with disapproval.

"It should not have come to this," she lectured. "What did you even have to fight for? There is plenty of land for all here."

"Forgive us. The other gods, they told us to fight... we were afraid to disobey... we were weak and foolish, Mother Amala. We deserve your wrath."

"Tell me of these other gods," she commanded.

And so they told her. Half had joined the side of the faceless god of the crescent moon, another half had joined with the god of the scales and the hammer. These two gods opposed each other, and so their followers had been driven to fight.

Ur frowned. She had thought this war was the work of other returning Children of the Tree, but these gods were not them. They were not gods of the Plateau. Yet as they were described to her, they sounded familiar.

But she could not recall them from the Plateau. If she knew them, then she must have met them sometime during her exile; her memories of that time were hazy.
When she returned, had these gods followed here? If so, then she bore some responsibility for this disaster.
She would have to make amends, and to do that, she would make these interloping gods face divine justice.

"Where are these gods now?" she asked. "I must deal with them."

There were murmurs from the crowd. Most of the tribesmen reluctantly admitted that they had lost track of their own gods in the midst of the fighting.

"And you would have them escape, then?" Ur scolded. "Let them run free to begin a new meaningless war?"

The tribesmen hung their heads, ashamed. Finally, one younger warrior spoke up.

"Mother Amala, I saw the faceless god carry the other one to the fortress in the sky," he said awkwardly, pointing at the stadium. "He flew on a stream of flames."

Ur nodded. She looked at the now-withering beanstalk holding up the stadium. It would fall soon. But not soon enough, she told herself. The wicked ones must be punished - and how many others? - how many others who have aided them in their conquering ways?

"Then we must bring down the pillar now," Ur said. "The longer the wicked fortress remains aloft, the better the chance they will escape its fall."

She walked over to a wounded horse, and touched it. Slowly, it rose to its feet.

Ur pointed to the beanstalk.

"Destroy it," she commanded.

The horse obediently charged. Blessed by the goddess, it ran more swiftly than it ever had before. It charged directly through the weakened base of the pillar, tunneling through to the other side. Then it turned, ran through the withered beanstalk again in a different direction, before rushing back to Ur's side. She petted its nose affectionately; it had done its job well.

The pillar had held steady before, but now it was toppling rapidly to the ground. Ur could see where it would land.

"Ready yourselves," she told her followers, as she lifted herself onto the blessed steed. "Should the evil gods survive the fall of their fortress, we will not allow them to escape unpunished."

***

"It's thirty-five to thirty-five, and there's only one inning left to go!" Carl shouted. "It's anybody's game now, and I have to say, I'm trembling with excitement!"
At that moment, the stadium shook violently, far worse than it had before.
"Whoa, and I guess I'm not the only one!" Carl said with a laugh. "Even the stadium can't wait to find out who the winner is!"
"This is no time for laughter!" the Elder shouted. "That shaking is our impending destruction! Your unknown game has brought this upon us!"
"Ha ha! That Elder, right? Always a laugh riot. And now back to the game! Girnham's pitching again, and Balance is up to bat."
"Your ignorance disgusts me."
"Oh, hush. Anyways, the rivalry between these two has been intense! Obviously, they had a grudge of some kind going into the game, but it started to really heat up when Girnham threw that flaming sunball right at Balance's family jewels!"
"I am going to spend the last moments of my existence listening to your babble," the Elder sighed. "This is how our world ends."
"Oh, quit whining. Your world was so boring, it could do with some changes."
"It is your world as well!"
"Don't remind me. Anyways! Some other highlights of the Girnham-Balance rivalry include the redth inning, when Phil hid a beehive on one of the bases and threw a rock at it when Balance got near; and the squidth inning, when he shoved Balance right under that mudslide."
"Those are not numbers at all!"
"Hush, you. Anyways, it's the Omega Inning, which means that one way or another, it all ends here!"
"And it will likely end our world with it."
"We've gone into Sudden Death, which means that the game ends as soon as one team gets a point. The score's been close all game, but that changes now!"

Cole sighed. Wonderful. If the game ended before he could kill Balance, would that mean he had lost his chance? Would he be stuck with a god-killing baseball bat forever?
He'd attempted to hand Phil the god-killing bat between innings, more than once, but his "teammate" had been lost in a world of his own for some time now and completely ignored him. He seemed to be taking more joy in punishing Balance than in actually winning the game.
He watched largely indifferently as Phil walked towards the mound. All he needed to do was stop anyone from scoring, and he would have one last chance to make his kill... although given that the points seemed to be awarded almost at random, that was hardly a trivial matter.
Then he felt a tap on his shoulder, followed by a whispered "Ow!" as whoever was interrupting him received a mild bioelectric shock.
He turned around, reluctantly. He was unsurprised to see the Spirit of Fairy tales behind him, and only slightly surprised to see a crow covered in something unpleasant roosting on her shoulder.
"What do you want now?" he asked the Spirit. "Can't it wait until after this farce of a game ends?"
"No! Listen to me! Haven't you noticed the way Phil's been playing?" Soft insisted.
"You mean everything he's been doing to Balance?"
"Yes! That is terrible sportsmanship!" she hissed quietly. "So you need to be the good sportsman who'd rather lose the game than let his teammate get away with cheating and dirty plays. Or maybe you get the coach to kick him off the team. Or resign in disgust. Look, the point is, you need to set a good example!"
Cole groaned.
"Listen, Spirit. All I want to do is kill Balance, and that means I need to play this incomprehensible game. That's what your grease-covered friend there told me, anyhow."
"Look, it's not my fault they slather all that stuff on the popcorn!" Crow protested. "Or that this place doesn't have any decent showers, and believe me, we looked."
"And if we hadn't spent so long looking, we could have gotten the story underway sooner!" Soft said, glaring at the crow. "But I suppose it's just as well, the story has to end at the final inning anyhow. Now remember, whatever you do, you have to make sure that Phil's foul play has consequences. Then this story can have a proper ending."
"But..."
Crow flew up to Cole's ear - or where it would be - and whispered to him.
"Listen, I know she's difficult to deal with, but tell her you'll do it, okay? There's a lot going on around here and it's just tearing her apart trying to make sense of it all. She needs this. She needs to have a story, even if it's not really the story."
Cole sighed. He was not in any mood to put up with this.
"No," he grumbled. "Now leave me alone, I can't exactly focus on the game while you're here."
"Well!" Soft said angrily. "See if I give you a chance to be a real hero again, then! I'll just have to take care of this cheater myself!"
She stormed off, and Crow flew after her. Cole turned back to the game, relieved.
Phil was on the mound, readying his pitch.

Phil was having trouble keeping a straight face. Luckily, his visor meant that he didn't really need to.
The bees and the mudslide had been good, but when he discovered that the locker room had turned into an armory, he'd seen the perfect opportunity.
He looked at the sun in his glove, then "accidentally" dropped it.
"Whoops," he said, bending down to pick it up. "Give me a minute."
But he didn't pick it up. The glow of the sunball would be too obvious even from a distance, he realized; so he simply buried it in the mound. Then he stood up, and carefully reached into his belt, pulling out an incendiary grenade. He pulled out the pin and put it in his glove, holding it carefully.
"Okay, ready now!"

Balance stood, bat at the ready. He was covered in mud and bee stings and bruises, and the audience had been booing him for most of the game. He was weak, and weary.
He didn't care. All that mattered was maintaining the balance. With the sudden death rule, however, the game would end with the next point. That would mean an imbalance and there would be no chance to correct it.
The game could never end, then. Whether he struck this ball or not, no one could score from it. Or the next one, or the one after that.
The balance had to be maintained.

Phil threw the grenade. He chuckled beneath his visor; he knew that whether Balance hit it or not, it would explode either way.
The god of balance raised his bat, and struck the incoming grenade, then collapsed from the effort.
The grenade didn't explode, somehow. Instead, it went sailing through the air.
"The hell?" Phil grumbled. "Did I go to all that trouble for a dud?"
"An amazing hit by Balance!" Carl declared. "Will this be the throw that wins the game? It sure looks like it's going out of the field... in fact, it looks like it's heading right this way..."
There was a loud crash, as the grenade broke through the glass of the announcer's booth and fell into Carl's lap.
"Wait a minute!" he shouted. "This isn't a regulation sunball! It's... oh my god, it's a live grenade!"
And then it exploded.
The Elder stared at the empty space where Carl had been a moment before, jaw agape. It was now nothing but flames.
He had no words.

The explosion had caused a panic in the crowd, but it was soon overshadowed by a small feminine voice calling out from the stands.
"CHEATER!"
Her voice was soon joined by others. The chant of "CHEATER!" filled the stadium, and grew so loud that it could even be heard by the crowd outside awaiting its imminent fall. The Elder's prophecies of doom
Phil was taken aback. He wasn't so much concerned about losing his sudden fame - he didn't exactly do the sort of work where a positive reputation mattered - but being caught was something he'd been trained to avoid.
It was also something that he'd been trained to deal with. If you were caught, you eliminated the witnesses. No matter how many of them there were.

Within the crowd, Soft beamed.
"All they needed was a little push," she said to Crow. "Now Phil's been humiliated and he's learned a lesson about sportsmanship."
"Er, I'm not so sure about that," Crow replied nervously. "I don't think lessons about sportsmanship usually involve pulling out a gun."
She turned back to the field. Oh.
"Some people just can't let a story end nicely," she grumbled. "I'd better take care of this."

Cole had already seen it. He flew over to Phil and tackled him, knocking him to the ground just as he started firing into the panicked crowd.
"What are you doing?" he shouted. He grabbed Phil's gun and flung it away.
"What are you doing? I had this under control, we're totally winning this game now!"
"You are not," the umpire growled. "That was a non-regulation ball there, boy! That's a one-point penalty for the Outsiders."
The scoreboard shifted, showing a score of 35-34.
It also still said "SUDDEN DEATH".
"Wait, how's it still Sudden Death?" Phil asked, confused.
"Can't be taken back," the umpire shrugged. "Game ends with the next point, even if it's a tie."
At the sound of that, Balance stood up.
"In that case, let us end this game."

It was not that simple, however. The score had shifted in favor of the Eternals over the Outsiders; this made reality more normal. Not significantly, but it was enough to bring the flow of time within the stadium more in line with the rest of the Plateau.
And so it only took moments from the perspective of the players before the stadium crashed to the ground and collapsed.

***

"The wicked fortress has fallen!" Ur declared triumphantly. "The gods who built it have been humiliated. But that alone will not deter them! We must drive them from the Plateau, so they never disturb our peace again!"
Amala's followers cheered, though some were less eager than others. They feared their goddess was taking too much pleasure in the suffering of others, even the wicked; was that truly Amala's nature?
But they put their concerns aside for the moment. Amala was right; these gods were certainly wicked, and that could not be ignored. Surely once they were banished, all would be well again.
Surely it was so.

Cole lifted himself out of the rubble, just in time to see Phil flying off. He groaned, and wondered just what had happened.
The first thing he noticed was that he no longer held a bat in his hand; it was a sword once again.
The second thing he noticed, much to his dismay, was that the scoreboard still seemed to be intact.
The third thing he noticed was Balance kneeling weakly on the pitcher's mound, staring up at the score.
"The balance... must be preserved," he muttered, as Cole approached, sword in hand.
The former biologist paused. Balance was badly injured, from Phil's assault throughout much of the game, and from the stadium's crash. He was covered in filth, bruises, and bee stings.
Cole had hated gods ever since his first encounter with one. But the being before him hardly seemed a god. He was a broken man, a pitiable creature. He had been humiliated, weakened, rendered helpless.
But he was still a god. He still toyed with the lives of intelligent beings. He would have to pay.
Cole stepped closer. Balance suddenly turned around, and stared at the blade.
"Oh, are you going to kill me with that," he said blankly.
"Yes," Cole said angrily. "You gods think you're so much better than us. You treat us like we're nothing. And all you do is cause pain and ruin!"
"I have, haven't I," he muttered. "This is all because of my carelessness." He held up his scales, which were shaking violently, and stared at them. Then he looked back at the scoreboard.
"My death is worth one point," he muttered. "End me now, and all will be well."
Cole raised his sword. It was an act of mercy at this point, wasn't it. Pitiful as he was, the god was asking him for it.
But before Cole could strike the final blow, a thrown spear knocked the blade out of his hand, and a club knocked him unconscious.

"Is this the faceless god?" Ur asked. The tribesman shook his head.
"No. I have not seen this one before," he replied. "I know nothing of him."
"I see," she said. "And the other?"
"He is the god of the scales and hammer."
Ur dismounted from her horse, and picked up the weapon.
"Is that Crow's blade?" one of the followers asked.
"The sword that drove us away," Ur said. "It is."
She picked it up, and turned to the disheveled god.
"What is your name, god of the scales and hammer?"
Balance stared at the goddess weakly.
"Mother?" he asked. "Do... do you still not know your son? It's me, Balance."
She paused, seemingly lost in contemplation. But in fact, she was changing, as two sets of belief affected her, and tried to reconcile.
She was Mother Amala.
She was this god's mother.
The similarity was enough. She remembered her son.
"Balance. My son," she said, surprised. "How could I have forgotten you? My time in exile is so vague..."
Then her surprise gave way to anger.
"What have you done to this world? Is this not your doing? Did you not guide these men to war?"
Balance nodded weakly.
"I... I wanted them to stop the other army, Mother," he said apologetically. "But I failed. I made everything worse. It's all because of me..."
His voice trailed off, and he looked over at the scoreboard again, then kneeled before the goddess.
"Please, Mother. Decide my fate. I am at your mercy."
She hesitated for a moment.
Then she drew her blade.
"Your crimes are too great, my son," she said. "The price must be paid."
She stabbed him through the heart, crying all the while.
"Thank you, Mother," he said, falling onto the mound. His blood soaked through the earth beneath it.
As Ur vanished, the scoreboard suddenly gained a third entry. It simply said "LIFE", and it had a single point.

The people of the Plateau remembered it well. The day Amala had to leave them once more. Her parting gift had been a new tree, from which a new sun would one day grow.