A/N: Blaseball belongs to the Game Band. The characters featured herein belong to Blaseball fans. Win or Lose, We Vibe.
Season 16: The Preseason
"Three things in life are inevitable: Blaseball, Megalomaniacs trying to run Blaseball, and everything at the Gleek being slightly moist."
York Silk was reacclimatizing to the Canada Moist Talkers locker room after a year in Baltimore. And before that… Well, if he really wanted a reminder of that, there were the two trophies and team pictures in the newly added trophy case that told a lot of the story. The first one had the team holding a sign saying "Do It For York" and his old MT jersey. The second one was of a much less somber team, with no clever slogan, and no Silk jersey to be found. It was nice of them to leave him a ring from the Season 14 Championship. It would have been nicer for him if they'd also let him play in the Season 15 Championship, but with all of the Consumer Attacks, perhaps it was for the best that they didn't. That had been an unpleasant call back to Hawai'i after the series.
It still gave him nightmares. All of it did, really. Nothing had ever really been quite as simple as those first few seasons with the Fridays. Hit home runs, go to the cookouts, watch everyone else in the playoffs, repeat. Then came the Shellings. Every bit of that was a time best forgotten, up until the Shelled One fell, and York woke up in Canada.
Leaving the Sovereign Nation had been a major adjustment. Events had forced him to grow up quickly, and he was thankful that Dot Patterson had taken a liking to him and helped him learn his way around Halifax. He was starting to feel like he'd gotten his feet back under him. And then a Rogue Umpire had changed everything.
After everything else he'd been through, Incineration had been surprisingly pain-free. One second, he saw glowing eyes; the next, he was standing in the Hall of Flame. He'd had a chance to meet many of those who had Gone Before, and no one was more excited to see him than Jessi Wise. The former Friday grabbed him in a huge hug, whispered "Thank you for giving them hope", and disappeared into the crowd as soon as she had emerged. What felt like ages later, but turned out to be a couple weeks at most, the Monitor glided into the Hall (wearing what York could only describe as a fairly neat chef's hat) and told him to hold tight.
York had little time to react, and even less time to think, before he washed up in Baltimore. The Crabs welcomed him with open claws, but York always felt like someone was watching him closely. Occasionally, the feeling of being Observed would pass, but it always seemed to come back.
And now, here he was, back in Halifax. He'd heard that Dot had been pulled away from the Talkers as he had the Crabs, but he hadn't heard who they'd gotten in return.
"So as you can see, you should feel right at home here. There's open spaces all over if you need to go for a run, and I'm happy to show you around if you need someone. Here's the locker room, and….oh." Ziwa Mueller paused in her introductions when she saw the locker room wasn't quite as empty as she thought. Standing slightly behind her was someone York recognized, from quite literally a lifetime ago for him: Sixpack Dogwalker, former Dallas Steak, former Hawai'i Friday, and apparently newly arrived Moist Talker.
"Hey Ziwa. Aloha, Six. Don't mind me, I'm just putting some stuff back." York didn't meet either of their eyes, preferring to stare straight ahead into his locker, unsure of exactly how the pair were reacting to seeing him. The last time he saw Ziwa was during the REDACTED mess that had ended last season for him, and he had hit a home run off Sixpack the last time the Crabs had played the Steaks. Both of them "just Blaseball" moments, but recent enough that York would leave the first move up to them.
"We'll catch up later, York. Let me know if you need me, Sixpack." One captain accounted for, and that just leaves the conglomodog. York continued moving things around, attempting to look busy, only to hear a few tentative steps moving closer. Sigh. OK, guess this conversation is happening right now.
Pulling himself back from the locker, York turned to see his former teammate. Much as they had looked back when both were Fridays, Sixpack was still many dogs sharing a single body. Most of the faces he expected to see were still the same, if a big more rounded than he remembered. The Steaks must have fed their girls very well, a thought that made York feel slightly better. He did notice that Sixpack looked a little nervous, and wondered what that was about. He held out a hand for Six to sniff, remembering that they were a little tentative around people they considered strangers, and then it connected: He wasn't exactly the same person as before the necromancy. He couldn't be; when Umpires went Rogue, they didn't leave much behind to mourn. The soul could be brought back, as the league had proved when the Garages had rescued Jaylen from Beyond initially, but there had to be something to put the soul into.
One of Sixpack's faces tentatively sniffed his hand, then another, then another. The faces consulted each other wordlessly, then nodded in agreement. The first face licked his hand gently, then all of the faces looked up hopefully at York. "May we?" asked the first politely. York rolled his eyes, but grinned and opened his arms as Sixpack grabbed him in a tight hug and began licking his face from all over. York let them slobber all over him for a bit, before carefully tapping their shoulder. Sixpack slowly pulled all their faces back, and snagged a nearby towel a little sheepishly.
"We missed you, friend. You're looking well." Now looking relaxed and playful again, Sixpack pulled up a nearby chair and sat, allowing York to dry his now very moist hair and face.
"Thanks, Six. You seem to have enjoyed your time in Dallas. I don't know if you'll be able to get the same quantity of steaks up here as you could there." York winked, knowing full well that multiple restaurants in the area would be more than happy to supply the Moist Talkers with a fine steak dinner if asked.
A couple of faces drooled slightly at the mention of steak, but were able to compose themselves quickly. "I'll have you know that my tastes are not limited to steak, but also include the surf half of surf and turf, thank you very much." Multiple faces woofed their approval of surf and turf.
"Should I take that as a sign that we should celebrate your arrival with dinner?" York asked, knowing that the metabolism of a conglomodog was similar to that of a teenage human, and that both of them were probably getting hungry, seeing as it was nearing the early evening hours. Many of Sixpack's faces nodded, and the former and once again teammates left the stadium, in search of a good meal shared amongst friends.