Into the Deep

A step distant, their fingers almost intertwining. Comfort, safety, love. All just out of reach.

A text message in the group chat was not the most pleasant way to wake up. Normally, they would have muted it for the night, since their alarm was set early for game day amyways. But they left it on just in case someone had wanted to talk about anything more than the greeting they had gotten, but every one seemed busy. They couldn't blame the Crabs. Blaseball players didn't get much off time.

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>MoCoNN: Breaking News: Gus Driver is out sick with a cold!

Reports say that in keeping with the ancient pact, the Bus is inoperable as a show of solidarity.

>TillyTime: lmao gus confirmed to party too hard

>Winner: Okay Folks, we get to do this the old way.
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Luis cocks their head to the side, before pushing the door to their room open and taking a moment to enjoy the briny breeze of the bay. Having a personal boathouse is not where they expected their life to go, but really none of this was. Slightly pink-tinged hardlight fuzzes against salt heavy air. If nothing else, the Crabs treated new players to decent accommodations. Leaning against a guard rail, they can see the now empty boathouse of Oliver Notarobot drifting along.

The groupchat pulls back up in their vision.

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>2tot2fox: Understood, will bring Nagomi. Signed. Tot Fox

>Luicoloid: Uh, so what's 'the old way'?

>Winner: Oh, sorry. Just bring your boat around to the dock and we'll meet up with you soon.
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Leaning against one of the dock's poles, Luis took some time to appreciate the calm. Or at least to try and ignore the mounting sense of dread. A new season meant more chance for things to go terrible. They had been with the band and seen the things that had happened. Would it happen again? To Jaylen or maybe someone else going mad for seconds at a time?

Their train of thought was interrupted by the arrival of several crabs, but in the literal sense and not the blaseball player sense. Luis squats down and fishes out part of a granola bar that had been in their welcome package. "Here, friend. I can't really eat it anyways." The crab they offered it to reached out with a nobbly claw and breaks off part of the bar.

"Ah, see Dunlap found you." The voice from behind them was sudden, enough to startle. They turn to find Tillman standing on one of the pylons, phone in hand. He lifts it up for a selfie, before hopping off the pylon and looking down at the granola-munching crustacean. "Dunlap you know better than to beg man, come on."

"Do you know this one in particular?" Luis knew some things about the Crabs, they had played eachother more than once after all. But that was them as opponents. Tillman shrugs noncommittally. "I just call them all Dunlap. It's a good name for crabs." The sound of squeaking wheels draws Luis' attention, and they stand to greet the source of the noise.

Tot Fox trots along the wooden dock, flanked by Kennedy Loser and Forrest Best. Somewhere, Tot's found a red wagon in which a massive peanut lay. Nagomi McDaniel, one of blaseball's titans. In a little red wagon guarded by a fox. There was a song in there somewhere, they would have to work on that.

Kennedy waves and Luis waves back without realizing it. There was something about him that made the action easy. "Heya kid. Sorry Gus is out on your first day, but look at it like this, you'll get to see the heart of Baltimore this way." Forrest moves past the group to take position by the edge of the dock, as silent as he's ever been. Tot settles back on his haunches and nods to Luis. "Good to meet you as a team mate."

"Same, To- er. Do you mind if I just call you Fox? I have an important Tot already." The fox nods again, a little smile at the edge of his muzzle. "I do not mind at all." Kennedy checks his phone and whistles. "Okie dokie folks! Got texts from the others, they were on a road trip right by Al Pastor so they'll meet us there!"

A protesting shout makes Luis half-turn in time to see Forrest holding Tillman's phone. In a practiced motion Tillman is then collected by three of the claw arms protruding from Forrest's back, before being hucked unceremoniously into the bay. The phone is passed to Kennedy, who smiles at Luis and draws out a plastic baggie. "He always messes around if you don't dunk him first. Trying to get the best angle."

Kennedy's phone joins Tillman's in the bag, and air gets smushed out before he pats the plastic affectionately. "Alright kiddo. Once we get in the water, just kinda go limp till you hit the bottom. Once you're there, I suggest taking in the sights! Pedro would be way better at pointing out the fine details but, ahh you'll just have to get him to show you around later."

Luis was awash with confusion, questions forming rapidly in their mind before Kennedy speaks up again. "Yeah man go ahead!" With a tap to their shoulder, Kennedy directs Luis' attention to the end of the pier. Forrest... It's hard to describe but the way his limbs go slack right before the crab legs fling him into the sky, it's hard to think of it as anything but a puppet being thrown.

Kennedy claps. "Nice splash on that one. He's been practicing." Bending down, he hefts the peanut shell up to one shoulder, either displaying more strength than someone would expect, or that the nut was oddly light. "Okay Tot, I'll send Nagomi down, can you follow and make sure she drifts alright?" "No problem, Kennedy."

Soft, padding feet make it to the edge of the dock, followed by the creak of Kennedy walking. They seemed almost ready to act before Luis found their voice. "You guys know I can just, like. Zoop over there right? Hard light and programming, you know?" Kennedy stops, resting the peanut for a moment as he considers this. "Sure didn't. If you want to, sure. But again, we think she'd like to meet you."

'She'. 'It'. The massive, unknowable deity that lies in the depths. The one god the Crabs tolerate. Nagomi's shell is pushed into the water and, after bobbing for a few moments, it sinks into the depths. Tot puts a paw on Luis' shoe. "Whatever you choose, we won't think less." With that, he too disappears beneath the water, no splash coming from his sleek and graceful dive.

Kennedy and Luis watch the water's surface for a few moments, before he turns to them and smiles. "Like he said kiddo. Either way, we'll see you on the other side." With a magnificently ungraceful backflop, Kennedy Loser also disappears into the depths, leaving Luis alone above the waves.

The Baltimore Crabs. Luis had faced them on the field before but they were a different beast. Out of action they all just seemed so casual. Just a bunch of people who happened to show up for an inter-office game. Weirdly supportive of whatever move Luis made. These were the feared Crabs. The monsters of the field who ate up playoff slot after playoff slot. A dadly dork, a british fox, some punk instagrammer, and a wooden mannequin who likes to make a big splash.

Luis bites their lip, shrugs to no one in particular, and steps into the water.