Chapter Text
“And that’s why I’m on the run. I never should have taken financial advice from the guy who got incinerated for embezzlement.” Jaylen finished explaining to her fellow former Garages. “But you don’t need to worry, I’ve already got a fake name and disguise planned for my games with the pies.”
“A false identity, how titillating, the perfect way to avoid the eyes of the law and perhaps attract the eyes of a paramour. Tell us Jaylen, so we made guard your confidence with our meager lives.” said Lang.
“Baylen Notdogfingers” She said proudly.
“No.” deadpanned Lang.
“What Lang means to say is that this is a serious matter, and that name may not be enough to keep the debt collectors, who work for the blaseball gods away. Also if that bag of witch fingers and fake moustaches is meant to be your disguise then well... I’m glad you talked to us first.” Farrell responded. Jaylen knew that this was her way of calling the whole idea ridiculous.
“We must help come up with a better plan!” Lang shot up. “We will combine our skills of theater and art to create a disguise and identity that will throw even the sharpest of pursuers of the trail of dear Jaylen.”
“I can definitely find you a way better disguise, something flashy and daring.” Farrell mused.
“And I will write you the greatest of scripts, which will provoke deep emotion in all who hear them, along with an irresistible persona.”
Jaylen smiled at her friends’ support. “One problem with those ideas. The goal is to avoid attention.”
“Avoid...attention....” Lang muttered. The idea did not seem to be able to find purchase in his mind. He fell back to the ground in confusion. “But attention is the most important thing. Always want attention.” He would probably reboot himself in a second.
“Lang is right, sorta. Our work is usually meant to be seen...” Farrell agreed.
They sat in silence for a while, unsure of how to proceed.
“THERE YOU ARE LANG. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE ON SET AN HOUR AGO!” Yelled Eduardo Woodman, bursting into the part of the parking garage where they had been hanging out.
“Please Ed, you think just because you are my director that you have the right to boss me around?” Said Lang.
There was another moment of silence.
“Yes?” Said Eduardo.
“Fair enough.” Lang responded, and got up to leave.
“He wasn’t slacking off, we were helping Jaylen.” Farrell said helpfully. “Actually, do you think the team might be willing to hear her out later? I think they might be a bigger help than we are.”
“Sure, Sure.” Eduardo Woodman responded. “But I have to get this guy on stage before Tastykake incinerates both of us. We won’t be playing Lancer without Betsy anyway.”
Jaylen watched them walk away. They seemed comfortable together, even if Woodman was mad. She then looked at Farrell. “Do you really think that they will help me after everything?”
“Of course. I haven’t been here long either, and I am pretty much doomed statistically, but they still care about me. We can’t get caught up in the past with so little present and future ahead of us.” She smiled.
“You sound like Lang.” Jaylen joked. Farrell elbowed her and soon enough they were both laughing like nothing was wrong.
---------------------
Jaylen wondered how it was that blaseball players managed to get free time with the schedule they played. She had had a lot of time to wonder about things in the hall, but had also learned from her various deals with gods that it was never good to question things that were in your favor. The garages had mainly spent their free time on music, but apparently the pies made space for a team game of Lancer, which was being replaced with Jaylen asking for help.
It took her longer to explain things to the pies as a whole than to just her old teammates, and was far more awkward, but she did it anyway, bolstered by Lang and Farrell’s supportive nods. There was a silence when she finished.
“Bookbaby sounds so convincing but is a really bad accountant. Nearly ruined my retirement fund and told me to claim a home office even though I don’t work at home.” Elvis Figuera broke the silence. “Did you see Mickey down there?”
“She gave me a high five on my way back.” Jaylen remembered the moment fondly. Apparently that was enough to get the pies going.
“Well I have a serum you could try... but it’s only been tested once.” Said Peanut Holloway
“No... You have to fake your death... I have a kit prepared. You don’t spy on the spies and learn nothing.” said Yeung-Ho Beinitz.
“Now this may be somethin’ these RBG lights are good for.” said Jaxon Buckley
“Ruslan know how to hide from mob. Secret is cabbages.” said Ruslan Greatness.
The commotion was stopped by one man clearing his throat. Kennedy Cena. “Jaylen. You must ask not who you can’t see, but who can’t you.”
Jaylen teared up. It was just like a fellow politician to know exactly what to say. “You guys are really going to help me? You know what I’m up against right? And that I might have to leave?”
“Hey it’s ascension season. We’ll be out of here before the gods can collect.” said Bright Zimmerman.
There was a rumbling from Jessica Telephone’s shell. Jaylen was surprised the team had brought it, but she guessed that really was the spirit.
“I think Jessica is trying to say that once you are a pie, you are always a pie. I mean we still let Alyssa Harrell borrow sugar. Or what we think is Alyssa Harrell.” said Eduardo Woodman.
“Did you really just go to get merch?” Jaylen asked him.
“Yes! I told Beasley and Mora!” Eduardo had clearly been asked this many times, but didn’t seem mad at Jaylen.
“nemo est audit me. Cum omnibus vobis laetus ego disceptatores URO.” muttered Mora. Nobody paid attention to him.
“It’s pie or die Jaylen, not both.” said Kennedy Cena.
Jaylen smiled. Perhaps this wasn’t just running away, it was running toward a brighter future.