Off Time

Parker Parra stands on the plate and shoulders their bat. The sky above is clear, the umpire behind them is docile for now, calling out plays in that reverberating boom that can be heard through the dimensional boundaries. They're very sure the umps just do that to show off. Maybe to try and make a threat. 'We can affect the other planes of existence too' they think they're saying.

Parker knew it was a load of shit.

The first pitch sails into the catcher's mitt, and Rivers Rosa pumps her fist. Parker smiles to themself. It was always so cute to see them get excited like that. The second pitch was equally as fast, and they had the best seat in the stadium to see the joy on River's face. The ball returned, Rivers sets up for her next pitch. Parker's grip on their bat tightens. The wind up is slow.

So slow.

So incredibly slow.

Parker notices something is wrong when the ball freezes in mid air, and they realize the silence of the crowd was more than just them tuning things out. Everything had stopped. They let out the breath they had been holding, when the voice of the Umpire booms out

INTERRUPTION OF PLAY IS UNACCEPTABLE.

"Hey this wasn't me, man."

PLAY MUST CONTINUE, 7DCF6902-632F-48C5-936A-7CF88802B93A.

Parker grits their teeth. The only thing that stopped a snappy comeback was the presence of another in the rift of time. It's the feeling of Her. The sound of a thousand thousand claws scraping. It was one of the most beautiful things they had ever heard. But, so was every time She spoke.

The Umpire's mask turns to the side, observing the pathway the sound had come from, it's red eye fading.

SANCTIONED DEITY-FORM ACKNOWLEDGED. A STAY IS GRANTED. CONCLUDE THIS BUSINESS QUICKLY. PLAY MUST CONTINUE.

For many others, to speak with the Mother Crab like this would be a dream come true. It would also irrevocably damage their mind. For Parker, it was like having a chat with your cool aunt. They listen to the innumerable scratching of claws against chitin, their expression slipping from positive down to a downcast frown as She explains.

"I see. I'll take care of it for you, yes." There was really no choice, after all. She did not approach them like this for little things. Parker closes their eyes, and pulls backwards. To a normal person, this would best be described as astral projection, though the truth is it was kind of the reverse of that for them. They took a moment to stretch in directions that a human can't, before casting their attention across the boundaries.

Impressing upon the dimension was difficult. They hadn't established a presence in this one before, and when they took in the local scenery, they were glad. To call this one hell wouldn't have been far off. A sun hangs in the sky with the ruins of a moon trying to obscure it. What should have been the Crabitat was an empty hole in the bay. This world had deployed it's motive systems at some point. Parker closes their left eye and looks into this world's past, biting their lip at the sight.

The Hellmouth had been deployed. A great, yawning expanse of teeth and muscle extruded from the rocks. The Mother of this place had tried to stop it, but failed and was devoured. That sent Baltimore into a frenzy. Blaseball was secondary in this place. The Crabs, their Mother-God torn away from them in violence, had broken.

Tears roll down Parker's cheeks. This place was blighted. And worst, it was the next target for an alternate reality swap. One of these players let loose on an unsuspecting world would have dire consequences. Parker's form blinks, coming to stand atop the Crabitat's back. The smell of offal was overwhelming, even for them. Pained screams from still living people held fast to the great chitinous shell by barbed spines, left to bake in the overwhelming sun.

The great clanking of Oliver's shell half-turning brought them to their task. The never let him see the tears on their face. Reaching through his artificial shell, they rip away the heart from his chest with a flicker of momentary dimensional instability. They had come to make sure this place could never infect their chosen home.

They had become the crying destroyer, mourning a lost time where nothing they loved had survived.

When it was done, they returned to where they had started. The Umpire checks his pocket watch. There was the scrape of claw on chitin once more. And then the ball screams past Parker for an easy strikeout. On their way back to the dugout, Kennedy claps a hand on their shoulder. "Don't worry about it Kiddo, rest for a bit and center, okay?"

Parker wipes their face dry, and hugs a surprised Kennedy before taking their seat on the bench to focus on the here and now.

At least until time slows to a crawl once more.