Chapter Text
Jaylen didn’t think they would find her here, in a middle of a game at her memorial stadium. But there they were, the debt collectors. So she did what she had to do, and ran.
Jaylen ran and ran until a hand caught her shoulder.
“You’re Mike’s friend right?” asked a brassy voice.
“Mike Townsend? Yeah, he was a credit to our team.” Jaylen responded.
Betsy Trombone smiled down at her. “You know I always wanted to join a ska band.” she said as she plucked the hat of Jaylen’s head and the ball from her hand. “Best of luck in philly. The secret is to make sure you have a grip on something steady!”
Jaylen watched as Betsy walked out to take her place on the field and with the Garages. She saw Betsy throw her first pitch and then decided to sneak out to the philly team bus.
The Philly bus was unlocked thankfully, with the team depending on the threat of the Philling (who was currently staring at Jaylen while performing an inscrutable dance) to keep people off of it. Jaylen slipped in and was faced with a large fish tank and an even larger man.
“Are you pie now?” Ruslan Greatness, Emmy award winning sitcom star asked. Jaylen nodded. “Then Ruslan ask. How throw to hit. One can not hit and throw. Hit Throw opposite”
“I don’t want to do it.” Jaylen responded, she really didn’t like to talk about beanballs.
“Leave the lady alone Ruslan.” said Bright Zimmerman from his tank. “She clearly doesn’t want to talk about it. I just thought we would lose Mora instead of Betsy. The fans really don’t like Mora.”
Jaylen sat down. “I suppose they’ll hate me too then...”
“No. Team be forgiving Ruslan when Ruslan bad at playoff. They forgiving for ball that make fire.” Ruslan nodded sagely.
Jaylen hadn’t gotten anyone incinerated in a long time. It was cold comfort though, considering that most of her friends had been sent away by the flickering. Then she remembered that two of those friends were on the Pies now and lightened up. At least she would have something familiar on this strange journey.
It only took a few more innings for the game to finish up and the rest of the team to leave the stadium. Despite having lost the game they seemed to be in good spirits.
“Way to lose us a 5-1 lead Mora.” They jibed.
“Quod si vos non ledo pila iecit per Betsy tubae hoc est non problema” Mora responded.
“Do I have to learn Latin?” Jaylen whispered to Zim.
“Nah, we don’t understand Mora at all. We barely understand Ruslan.” He gave her a conspiratorial smirk.
Jaylen wondered if the team would notice someone out of place, then realized the question was moot as the Philling was aggressively pointing her out. She raised her hand in an awkward wave.
The team stared at her for a second. “Well we all know what this calls for.” Said manager Sam Hinkle. Jaylen didn’t, but she followed the rest of the team anyway. They walked away from the bus and over to one of Jamazon’s company cars. “Flip it over.”
Jaylen thought about how much a car weighed. Far more than a blaseball. Far more than even her unholy strength could handle. “I don’t think I can?”
Farrell Seagull came up and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Jaylen had missed her so much. “That’s the first lesson. You can’t flip over a car alone.” She then stood beside Jaylen and got into position to lift.
Lang Richardson walked over and stood at her other side. “The second lesson is to lift with your knees. We can not take another tragedy.”
“Our ol’buddy Lang here got oil on his cape last time we did this. Left him distraught for the rest of the playoffs I reckon.” said Jaxon Buckley as he got into position next to Lang.
“It was my lucky cape! And if it hadn’t been ruined we might have won.” Lang fired back. Jaylen has missed him too, and all of his capes.
“Ruff Ruff! Ruff Ruff Ruff!” barked Beasley Day as he bit into the car with his three mouths. Jaylen did a bit of quick math and figured they probably had enough strength to lift the car.
Jaylen went to grab the car, and immediately remembered Betsy’s advice. She wondered how long this had been a tradition of the pies. “Ok everyone, on my count. A one, a two, a one two three four.” The team lifted together. It took an effort, but the car lifted up and fell back over on its side.
The Pies cheered. Jaylen looked over to see the bronze face of Sam Hinkle give an approving nod. “You are one of us now. Pie or Die Hotdogfingers.”