Harry looked up, eyes narrowing. "So… she's finally decided to show herself…"
Mike gazed in the direction Harry was facing, and his heart skipped a beat. Trooping toward them, at the head of a small crowd of others, Angel swept.
"What is she going to do…" Hannah wondered quietly. "We don't have guns or weapons. How is she going to react?"
But when Angel reached their pitch, at the head of a group of firm-faced students in formal baseball uniforms, she was silent, as per usual.
"The student council's team, reporting in for the second round," a short, primly dressed boy called out to the umpire imperiously.
Harry scrutinized the group critically. "Hey, wait a second… All of your players are members of the varsity baseball team! This isn't fair! We don't stand a chance," he admitted reluctantly.
The well-dressed boy only smirked at them. "I am vice president of the student body, Albert Lecher," he introduced without being asked. "I and the president shall be administrating this team. And, I'm afraid that the resulting score will not even by close…"
"Oh yeah," Julie snapped immediately, flying at him. "Prepare to get your butt's kissed!"
Harry caught her before she could reach them, driving her down in the dirt in a full nelson. "You idiot!" he cried, as the student council's team floated off with much a harrumph and noble look. "It's butts kicked! Kissing gives the opposite impression, little ditz!"
"Hey-oh, I'm sorry, Uncle, Uncle! If you keep pulling my arms, I won't be able to hit a homerun!"
"No one expects you to!"
"All right, this is getting ridiculous," Mike interceded, trying to step in between the tussling duo. He put his arm in, only to find it violently siezed upon by an unknown party, and was suddenly pulled into a ball of punches and kicks.
"This is so stupid…" Hannah observed, balancing her broom as it shifted in the breeze.
Their match versus the student body was the last of the semifinal matches. Prior to them, went their comrades under Leonard and Elliot. While they waited, Mike sat on a bench; nursing the bruises Harry and Julie had given him. Out in the outfield, Julie and her friends were giggling about something. Harry lay at his shortstop position getting "into the zone." Jake was off sulking somewhere.
Mike turned to his left. Hannah sat up against the iron mesh, staring at the tool quivering on her palm absently. He swallowed. "Hey, Hannah?"
Her eyes flickered, and the broom handle jumped a little on her hand. She rebalanced it quickly. "What is it? What do you want?"
Mike cringed. "I don't really want anything, I just wanted to see if I could try and-"
"Do you desire to settle our differences now?" she queried casually, glancing at him with her dark eyes.
"What? Oh, no, nothing like that. Trust me, I don't-"
"No. I refuse."
Mike blinked at her, squinting in the bright afternoon sun. "Refuse? What do you mean?"
She stood up gracefully, the pole never wavering. "I refuse to trust you. I am not so unwise as to make such a basic mistake." She gazed at him, trapping him in her glare. "I am not stupid, Michael. I know enough not to trust anyone, especially those who are yet unfamiliar to me."
Mike stood up as well, and started to walk towards her, reaching out his hand. "Oh, is that it? Well, it should be pretty easy for us to get to know each other. I barely know myself, so there's not much to know. Here, I'm Mike, the baffled and bruised."
She stared at his proffered hand, as might evaluate a poisoned drink. "You must be joking. Are you really that simplistic?"
He took his hand back awkwardly. "I guess so, I mean, I don't really have any hidden plots."
"But, what about you?" he continued. "You don't have to keep yourself alone, separate yourself from everyone."
Hannah eyes flitted open at his words. "Idiot. I couldn't expect you to know how things really work. You can't trust people, even if they seem to like you. Especially if they seem to like you. People are beasts, vicious beasts. It is incredibly difficult, and takes enormous self discipline, to be able to control oneself." She stared at him, face impassive, unreactive. "Anyone could betray you.
"I shall do whatever I can to increase my own capabilities, to ensure that I reach my goal. That is the one reason why I consent to join the Battlefront, you understand? I only consent to deal with the threat of living with others, so that I can reach my aim."
There was a crack from the baseball field next to them, as batter made contact with his target. Of a distance, the intercom buzzed, as some teacher asked for a student to report to his classroom. Above them, clouds lazily chased each other across the robin's egg sky.
Mike frowned at her. "Your aim?'
When Hannah spoke next, it was with a passion he'd never witnessed from her, a fervent anger that lit up her face like a torch. "To find the Lord. To track down our father, and make him pay for everything he's done to us, justice for all of the pain he's caused us." Her eyes bore into Mike's, like windows to hellfire. "I must become stronger, as strong as I can be, so that when we find him, I can bring some justice. Justice for every child he's hurt."
"Oh…" Mike replied. All he could so was stare back at her, lost. But he wasn't the only one out of sorts, he felt. Right now, she looks deadly, frighteningly powerful. But, she also looked, kinda, well, lonely.
"You know," he said cautiously, stroking his chin. "You may try to isolate yourself from everyone, but it isn't really working. Everyone in the Battlefront depends on you, they admire you, and they really like you."
She blinked, and for a moment looked smaller. The broom shifted in a sudden gust, and she hurried to rebalance it. "Well, that's not my fault! I don't want those numbskulls to be attached to me; I can't afford to attach myself to people. They're just… morons, that's all. They're all morons, that's why they don't fear me."
Mike was brave enough to attempt a small grin. "I'm a moron too, you know."
Harry walked up to them, yawning. "Hey, what's-" he started.
They suddenly recognized a sound from the field next door. A loud voice, definitely Emmanuel's, was cursing creatively.
"Uhoh," Harry muttered, glancing over. 'That can't be good."
"Two teams have lost their semifinal games, and been eliminated. Only one Battlefront team remains. Their opponent shall be the student council's team, led by Angel."
Fred cursed, gritting her teeth. "Damn it! Well… which one is our last team?"
"It's team Harry…" Bridget replied apologetically.
"WHAT? Ah come on…"
Team Harry stood in a line, determined. Facing them, as was practice for beginning formal baseball games, was their opponent. Reluctantly, the two groups shook hands. There was a gasp as one of the players had his knuckles crushed by an eager Jake.
Harry grinned at his opposite Captain tauntingly. However, Angel had no reaction to his teasing; she only stared at him politely, and then turned to walk away with her team to their fielding position.
"She's so… not cute," Harry complained as they walked to bench. "I mean, she doesn't even acknowledge us!"
Mike glanced back at her retreating figure, confused.
At the base, Hannah hefted her bat carefully.
"Uh, why do you have the…" the umpire started to ask.
Hannah didn't bother to reply. The pitcher sneered at the girl standing on the plate, and chucked a fastball.
The broom hurtled into the air as Hannah spun, and, grasping the bat with both hands, blasted the poor sphere away. Catching the broom neatly in the cup of her palm, she proceeded to calmly traverse the bases, as the blindsided fielders attempted to scale the oak tree the ball had wedged into.
As Hannah gracefully strode over home, she glanced over at Mike, gaping on the bench. "My concentration has grown through my training," she called.
"Err… yeah; I'm pretty sure you don't need to worry about beating me on that score, Hannah."
She frowned at him, and then walked past him to sit by herself in a tree's comfortable shadow.
They made it through the first inning with a good number of runs, their time ending with Julie striking out spectacularly. However, when Mike went up onto the mound, he felt an unpleasant weight settle into the pit of his stomach as his batter glared at him, spitting. Nuts. "Time," Harry called.
"This is ridiculous," Harry complained to Mike, coming up to commiserate with him. "I mean, we can't be expected to beat an actual baseball team. Our outfield is especially bad," he muttered, glancing back, where Gloria and Lafanda, two of Julie's friends, were contending with defending a whole outfield, as well as their terrible, all-encompassing inability to be within five feet of the ball and not squeal and run away. Harry scowled, and turned back. He quickly did a double-take.
Richie the fifth stood sentinel in the middle of center field, calmly devouring a bowl of noodles. Noticing he was under scrutiny, he nodded amiably.
"How… how…" Harry stuttered, jaw slackened.
Mike smiled at him. "Well, his team is done, and I had some extra lunch money, so I bought him a bowl of noodles. He said he'd help."
Harry's eyes lit up, and he clapped Mike fervently on the back. "Amazing! You really came through man! Now we might actually stand a chance. Richie the fifth is incredibly loyal when it comes to food! Now the outfield's amazing!"
Indeed, Richie the fifth seemed to be everywhere on the outfield, managing an agility that seemed utterly at odds with his girth. And, the whole time, not one drop of soup was slurped.
A pop fly soared into right field. Out of nowhere, the hulk appeared, leaping up to meet the ball. But, instead of catching it, the blocked ball tumbled straight down, right into Gloria's trembling mitt. As she felt the weight, she opened her eyes in shock, staring at the ball in disbelief.
"Good job," Richie congratulated, burping gently as he resumed his noodles. Gloria blushed furiously.