April 25th: Highway to Wichita.

It was 1:00 in the morning. Stacy's Chrysler Sebring was pounding down the highway at a mighty clip of 120 mph. There were almost no cops on the freeway, and the combination of the lack of things to look at and the Sebring's thrumming motor caused Brian to nod off.

It was a peaceful sleep, marked by happy dreams of succeeding in life and making the MLB Hall of Fame. Brian probably had a ----eating grin on his face as he dozed. Yes, it was a happy sleep. But the happiness was about to be shattered. Brian was jolted awake by an ear-splitting scream from the car's tires. Looking around in a slight daze, Brian looked around to see what had caused all this. Directly ahead on the freeway, he spotted a roadblock of several expensive-looking, jet-black sedans.

A man stepped out from a sedan parked outside of the roadblock. Brian was confused, then his eyes widened as the man pulled out a gun. He reached over and hit the gas pedal, causing the Chrysler to lurch foward.

"What are you doing?" Stacy screamed.

"Just let me get into the driver's seat!" Brian yelled back.

They pulled a switcheroo and now Brian was in command of the car. Gunshots rang out from their left side. Stacy dove from her seat to under the glove compartment, whimpering. Speeding towards the roadblock at 75 mph, Brian snapped the wheel to the right and the car dove off the road into the sand. He snapped the wheel back and the car obliged him with a big powerslide back onto the road. Brian looked behind him. He had successfully evaded the roadblock. He smiled to himself, thinking about how they said that video games would never be useful in life.

The smile was quickly wiped off his face when he noticed the sedans giving chase. Their speed astounded Brian, he was going 80 mph and the cars were already catching up to him. One of them pulled up alongside the Chrysler and held steady. Its sunroof opened and a man wearing a black shirt and sunglasses popped up and produced an MP7 from under the sunroof. Thinking quickly but not too rationally, Brian jolted the wheel to the right and rammed the sedan keeping pace with him. It wobbled before turning a 180, but it still kept pace with Brian, even in reverse. Brian ducked as the man in the sunroof fired off a volley.

The sedan whipped back around to face foward again, its passenger side now showing a big dent littered with white paint from the Chrysler. Checking his blind spots, Brian noticed another sedan pulling up on the right side. This one didn't bother with a gunman. It drifted further to the right a bit and rammed the Sebring as hard as it could, sending it flying back into the sedan on the left, and right back into the car on the right again, like a game of Pong. The Sebring spun multiple times before Brian got a hold of it again, now at a dead stop facing the side of the road. He looked out the window as the sedan that was on his right veered into the sand, hit a ditch, and caught some serious air before landing on its gas tank and exploding, cooking a herd of cattle in the process.

He breathed a sigh of relief, but something was amiss. Brian looked out the passenger side window and his eyes widened again as he saw a jet-black 18-wheeler rumbling down the highway at top clip directly at the Sebring. Brian jammed the car in reverse and slammed the gas - but the car was stalled. Brian tried frantically to get it restarted. One time, two time, three time. Finally the engine sputtered to life and Brian floored it in reverse, backing away just in time as the 18-wheeler tore the front bumper off of the car. Putting it back in drive, Brian turned back onto the road and hit the gas, and noticed that the semi truck had slowed down a bit. The only way he was going to make progress is if he passed it somehow. Putting the pedal to the carpet, the Sebring picked up again.

Going now at 130 mph, the Chrysler was screaming its head off and rattling like nobody's business. Zooming past the semi, Brian heard the diesel engine behind him start to wind up and give chase.

This wasn't going to be fun.

1:15 AM. Only 15 minutes had passed since Brian first encountered the roadbock, but it seemed like an eternity. Now he had just whizzed past an opposing 18-wheeler, which now was surprisingly catching up to him. Whomever was coming for him obviously had the budget to modify the pursuit cars (and trucks) for exceptional performance. The truck pulled alongside the battered Chrysler Sebring and reared up for a big hit. When it veered across the road, Brian paralleled its movements, dipping into the sand at the side of the road. He figured that the truck would stop at the side of the road, but it didn't. It kept going. Brian tried to turn the wheel more but only ended up going into a tailspin. The truck struck the front left fender of the car as it was spinning. The car hit a ditch and flew into the air, spinning ass over head as it did.

Crunch. A jarring impact and the roof caved in. The car rolled over, and none too gracefully. A hit from the right. From the bottom. From the left. Next the car caught some more air and barrel-rolled before landing on its wheels with a harder impact than the rest of the blows.

Brian struggled to regain his thoughts. He was fine, maybe a cut or two. But Stacy wasn't buckled in - she was hiding under the glove compartment! He looked over. She wasn't there. God damn it. He kicked the door open and looked around. No sign of her. He took a look at the Sebring. Totaled. No repairs would be neccessary, because no repairs would work. The car was a write-off. Shaking his head and rubbing his eyes, he had no clue what to do next. But a low rumble from behind him quickly resolved that problem.

He turned around to see the semi truck from before charging full steam like a 100-ton bull, diesel engine screaming. It bounced in a ditch, catching several feet of air and landing with a force that Brian could feel where he stood. Suddenly it occured to him that he standing like a dumbass watching death race at him, and jumped out of the way and crawled in the underbrush. The truck whizzed by, shredding the Chrysler with a massive explosion on impact. It continued down like a road train, eventually disappearing over the horizon. The experience was over.

His first concern was with Stacy. But he needed to get to a city first. Noticing a car driving down the road, Brian ran back and hailed it down.

"What's the nearest city to here?"

The woman inside glanced at him confusedly. "Wichita. Why?"

"I need a ride there. My car ex - er - broke down and I need to get a tow."

"Um, sure. Get in."

The woman dropped him off at the repair shop. Brian thanked her and she drove off. Now to get to the police department.

A little while later... "There's nothing you can do?"

"No, sir. That area out there is out of our district. I don't believe we can do anything until the state police are contacted. We'll get on it as soon as possible, but I can't make any promises."

Brian left the building dejectedly. After moping for a bit, he got up with a new resolve. Even if Stacy had gone missing, he still had to make it to the stadium and earn his paycheck. He didn't like it, but he had to go.

April 25th, 6:30: Lawrence-Dumont Field.

Denton was fiddling with his fielding glove before the game in the clubhouse. He was getting worried. Brian was always punctual and had always made a point of being on time. But now he had missed pitching and batting practice, and Louis, the Wranglers' skipper, was none-too-happy about this supposed meteoric talent being so gregariously late.

As these thoughts drifted across his mind, a dusty, sweaty Brian kicked in the clubhouse door. Denton leapt from his perch near his locker.

"God DAMN, man! Where the hell have you been?"

Brian regarded him with a cold, steely glance out the side of his eye.

"I had transportation difficulties getting here. My equipment seems to have disappeared, though."

"Well, we do have a uniform for you, but we don't have a glove... Maybe you could borrow one of my spare ones for the game. How in the hell did you lose your equipment, though?"

Brian again gave Denton a stare.

"I told you, transportation difficulties. Now let's get suited up."

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April 25th: Game time.

Denton and Brian hopped in the car and burned ass to Frisco for their game with the Roughriders. The ump was on the verge of calling a forfeit for the Wranglers when they dashed onto the field with all due speed and assumed their positions.

"They finally ----ing got here," Louis growled under his breath.

Panting from his short little sprint, Brian quickly assumed the position and tossed one or two warmup tosses. Time for action!

Wichita Wranglers Frisco Roughriders

Bill: Hey, there, I'm Bill Zoss and this is my collegue Kory Bowman. Kory?

Kory: Yeah, we're here in Kansas because we got booted here after an unfortunate on-the-air incident a couple of days ago.

Bill: Our top sports story is Brian getting pulled after just the 5th inning today in the Wranglers game. Here's Louis's take on it.

Louis: Brian seemed to be a little tuckered out from his goings-on earlier today. We already had a lead I knew our bullpen could hold, so I trusted them to take over and give Brian a bit more of a rest for his next start. I trust his next start will be much better.

Kory: And, unfortanately, due to a lack of contact with our affiliates in Frisco, we cannot present you with highlights or a statline. So sorry, all, but this game was just a mess. Wranglers win a head-scratching "game that never happened", 3-0.

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April 25th, 11:30 PM???

The TV in the office clicked off.

"Excellent work, John. You managed to stifle the media coverage of the game quite nicely," an ominous voice said.

"Thanks, Boss. Since we weren't able to eliminate him directly, perhaps 'eliminating' him in the media will suffice until we can properly dispose of him."

"Excellent. It's a shame that his talent has to go to waste so."

"Yes, but he will be an excellent example to all those errant baseball prospects."

The Boss smiled. His understudy had only been here a year or two and had already grasped the concept.

"But, Boss, it's only been a month since the season began. How can we be so sure that this kid won't fizzle out?"

"He won't. He's from the same bloodline that produced Walter Johnson and Warren Spahn. He's got the stuff."

The understudy looked at Brian's papers.

"Hughes... Wasn't there a high-profile prospects for the Binghamton Mets that was 'eliminated' named Hughes?"

"Yes, James Hughes. He caught the baseball gene as well, although he chose the vocation of catcher. He too resisted us, but we got to him. He was weak."

"And Brian?"

"It seems that he's a tad quicker on the draw than dear old dad."

The understudy took a long, hard look at the research film on Brian. Yes, he was certainly gifted. But why did the Boss have such a fixation on him? There were at least 90 other prospects that didn't want to join 'The Organisation'. Why was Brian so special?

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April 30th: Denton's Wichita apartment.

"So, they just LOST the highlights?" Brian inquired.

"It would certainly seem that way..." Denton replied.

"How in the hell..."

"They claimed that they had 'lack of contact with their affiliates.' That's BS. Networks usually get everything they can get their grubby paws on. If they didn't get the highlights from an affiliate, they would have gotten them somewhere else."

"What are you saying?"

"Somebody must have destroyed the tape of the game or something."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"It's a little convenient, no?"

"What?"

"First, Stacy disappears, then the tapes of our game."

"Hm... Now that you mention it..."

All the stories that Brian had been telling Denton of the "Boss" and how his dad's career had been cut short intrigued him. Someone (or some people) was trying to stem the flow of top prospects into baseball. Maybe that would explain how so many vaunted prospects had fizzled out over the years, way too many to just say "they didn't have the stuff." Somebody was making a concentrated effort to ensure that baseball's talent pool was shallow.

Brian noticed the look of pondering on Denton's face.

"It confuses me, too. Sometimes I just don't know what's happening."

Whatever. They had to get to their game.

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April 30th 6:50 PM: Lawrence-Dumont Field

Brian tossed his warmup pitches on the mound. The brief blackout he had last night had shaken him a little, but now he was ready to pitch. The loss of Stacy still hung heavily in his mind, but before he could go searching for her he had to get through this.

Corpus Christi Hooks Wichita Wranglers

Bill: Howdy, folks. Welcome to the Midwest Sports Channel's "Baseball!". Yes, real original name. Sue us.

Kory: No, don't. Anyway. Today the Wranglers wrangled with the Corpus Christi Hooks.

Bill: It wasn't exactly a shining moment in Brian's career. He appeared human as he blew a 3-0 lead to let the Hooks tie it up at 3, and he left in the 8th inning, after which the tie carried into the 10th before the Hooks scored the winner.

Kory: Something seems to be bothering Brian lately, like his focus isn't completely on the game.

Bill: Well, with fame comes distractions, Kory. Brian's probably been inundated with fame, being that he went from nobody to best person ever in the matter of a week, literally.

Kory: True. Denton hasn't slipped, though. Despite the fact that he only went 1-4 in the game, he still maintains an astronomical .367 batting average.

Bill: Yes, whatever's bothering Brian obviously hasn't gotten to Denton.

Kory: I smell Omaha for these guys.

Bill: I do too. Now, today the Kansas City Royals lost to the Indians, 5-2...

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May 1st, 1:30 AM: Denton's Wichita apartment.

No leads to Stacy's location. None. NADA. She just disappeared into thin air. That coupled with blowing the game just a couple of hours ago had Brian awake with stress and worry.

"Goddamnit, man. You need sleep!" Denton stumbled into the room.

"That's easy for you to say. Your girlfriend didn't vanish into the 32nd dimension and you didn't blow a game for your team."

"Whatever."

Brian sat on the couch staring into space.

May 1st, 12:00 PM: Wranglers' skipper's office.

"Denton, we have news for you. You're headed to Omaha," Louis proudly announced.

"What about Brian?"

"He still has to prove his worth. If he does good next game, they'll consider moving him up too."

"I guess that's fair enough."

May 1st, 2:00 PM: Denton's Wichita apartment.

Brian had walked in from his workout when he noticed that Denton had packed his stuff. Uh oh.

"Denton, what's this about?"

"Well, I got a promotion to Omaha."

"..."

May 6th, 6:50 PM: San Antonio Missions

Brian had been seething for the past several days. Denton got the promotion while he didn't, and that was because he had chosen to suck at precisely the wrong time. Well, it was time to turn on the FIRE.

Bill: Welcome to the Midwest Sports Channel, I'm - aw, hell, you already know us, so let's skip the fancies.

Kory: Well, folks, if you knew anything about baseball, then I'm sure that you know this: Brian absolutely lit up the mound today. He was angry.

Bill: He should get angry more often. 7 and a third innings of strong ball, with 15 strikeouts and only 1 earned run.

Kory: His day only ended because he cursed at the umpire on Family Day. Bad day to do that...

Bill: Now, in Kansas City Royals news - what? mumble mumble Nevermind the Royals, folks. We have breaking news!

Kory: We do?

Bill: Yeah, we do! Brian got promoted to Omaha!

Kory: Really? Well, then, I gu -

TV shuts off

The Boss was furious. He kicked things and tossed things and spat on things. He was angry, to say the least. And his understudy was not exempt from this.

"YOU!" the Boss yelled, "You were supposed to end his career a month ago! Now if we take care of him a lot of people are going to be suspicious!"

"Don't panic, Boss. He still has to GET to Omaha, right?"

"Well, yeah..."

"So then he can get into a convenient car accident..."

"Oh, I see where you're going. Make it happen."

"Yes, Boss."