"Baseball is like war. It's the game of inches." - Earl Weaver

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Bee stood alone surrounded by the Furies. She hoped to buy herself a bit of time and picked up the scattered papers across the floor and thumbed through documents.

Included was a comprehensive list of countermeasures and suggested options for the defeat of the Thornewood crew.

Then a red stamp, labeled Confidential, caught her eye. She noticed underneath was the name that read ‘Thomas Grimwald Deputy Upper Management Director’.

“So, you know everything about me, huh?” Bee asked with a slight grin.

"These golden goons might have everything on Estelle or the others, but they know nothing about the real queen here," Bee thought.

“No,” Number-06 said and crossed his arms across his chest. “At the Battle City games, it's the toughest who thrive.”

“Only the toughest who thrive,” repeated the others in unison.

“And what happens next?” asked Bee, her voice wavering slightly.

“Step onto the diamond and earn your stripes,” he said. “In other words, a one-on-one game to see who gets sent to the showers and who gets to home plate. That's the cost of admission.”

One of the Furies, sporting a bushy mustache and a crew cut, stepped into the foreground. His face bore crimson war paint, streaked in patterns resembling savage claw marks. Stenciled on his jersey was the Number-23.

“Captain, allow me the honor of playing against the White Witch of the Tower,” Number 23 replied.

“Estelle now would be a good time to wake up!” Bee thought.

She yanked on Lost Battalion again, but it refused to be removed from its scabbard.

“You could be a little more useful too,” Bee muttered.

“Number-23, we see your fire to take on the visiting team captain, but today it's Number-22's time to shine and defend our record,” the team captain said.

A heavy-set man with a round stomach and face smushed down like a potato stepped out from the crowd. He waddled as he walked, a flabby layer of fat under his arms flapped like a flag in the wind.

Bee’s right eye began to twitch.

Number-22’s movement was slow and blocky, his fingers reminded Bee of the tiny sausages that could be found in a small can. The fat folds between his neck smelled from the microbes that lived off the sweat.

“Batter up,” he said, his voice was slow and lethargic.

Bee tried snapped her fingers hoping to summon Estelle’s weapons, but none appeared.

“Wait, why am I trying to summon her weapons?” Bee thought.

She brought her hand over her face, from left to right. With a flick of her wrist, the Saphire Blade appeared between her fingers. She waved her other hand around and a Medi pack appeared on her right arm.

“The doctor is in,” Bee said, baring her teeth at her opponent.

Number-22 crouched down and punched his firsts together. His flabby arms wobbled, and his biceps grew. His loose flabby skin filled out with toned and thick muscles.

The folds of fat from under his neck disappeared. His bones cracked and popped as he grew in height. His head brushed up against the ceiling, and his skin turned pale white.

The captain placed a wired umpire mask on his face and brought his hand down in a chopping motion between the combatants.

“Play ball!” he yelled before taking a step back.

Number-22 initiated a bull rush, slamming into Bee. She had just enough time to bring her arms up to protect herself. A silvery after-image appeared behind him as he collided with her once again.

“Double Bull Rush, really?” cursed Bee as she gritted her teeth.

Bee attempted to sidestep, but Number-22 seized her hips and held on tightly as they crashed into the drywall. A second pair of ghostly arms sprouted from his shoulders, relentlessly pummeling Bee in the ribs.

Bee's heart pounded as she repeatedly drove the Sapphire Blade into his sides, each thrust met with resistance as it deflected against his reinforced ribs. The frustration burned in her chest as the blade refused to penetrate more than a few centimeters.

As she struggled to find a weakness, a surge of panic washed over her. His fists began to crack her ribs. She could feel the weight of his strength pressing down on her, threatening to crush her spirit along with her body.

With a sickening thud, she was slammed into the unforgiving brick wall, the impact jolting through her bones. Gasping for breath, she fought to push back against Number 22 and the overwhelming force he brought down on her.

Then came the moment when she felt herself lifted, powerless, as he executed his brutal move.

“East Side Supplex!” he shouted and bent over backward, slamming her head into the floor.

The world spun sickeningly as her head connected with the unyielding floor, a sharp crack echoing in the air. Darkness threatened to engulf her as pain flared through her neck.

Number-22 loomed over her, then noticed she started to move.

“Why…why won’t you turn…blue?” he murmured, jumping back an arm’s length away.

The arms and legs snapped out of place as Bee spider walked away. She flipped over on her feet and stood up. Bee reached into her medical pouch and applied a bandage on her sides. Her cracked bones knitted back together. Then she snapped her head back into its proper place.

Bee wagged her finger at him and grinned. Her eyes blinked rapidly, which changed her eyes from purple to blue to orange.

Knowledge of all his moves, training, and life history flashed before her eyes.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Number-22 was raised in a modest middle-class family, along with his twin brother. He was known as Arsu, while his brother went by the name Azizos. Both were popular professional wrestlers in the Galactic Wrestling Federation until a lower back injury abruptly terminated Arsu's career. Although subatomic surgery offered hope for recovery, it would render him ineligible to compete in the GWF. It was during this time that Battle City Recruiters extended him an offer.

As his training transferred to muscle memory, she noticed only half the information was obtained.

A million questions ran through her mind but would have to wait.

He bull rushed again, but Bee stepped to the side making a “Z” pattern. When Number-22 realized he missed, he rushed her making a sharp right turn. Bee pierrotite on the back of her heels, dodging the second attempt.

She activated the ‘Fiber Flux’ ability and doubled the number of Estelle’s slow twitch muscles in her chest and arms.

The afterimage of the secondary Bull Rush caught up to him, and Bee noticed the back of his head was exposed.

She brought the back, and hammer fist her punch into the base of his skill, sending him to the floor.

“I can't penetrate through at this level of bone density, Sapphire Blade will only incise the skin and not much else. I will need to adjust my approach accordingly,” she thought.

Bee tossed her scalpel into the air, and it disappeared and jumped on top of him. Her fists pounded the base of his head. With each swing, Bee felt a surge of power surge from the inner depths.

She felt no pain, only the need to end Number-22’s life. With each swing of her fists, she noticed that the bones began to crack.

Number-22 swung his arms behind him and grabbed Bee by the hair, prompting a scream. He moved his foot and kicked her in the stomach sending her across the floor. She snapped to her feet. Her opponent charged in; his skin was now ash grey.

“Why didn’t he use Bull Rush?” Bee thought and she blinked rapidly, absorbing information from the Akashic Record.

“That hurt,” he snarled.

His face was bruised, eyes swollen, but he was still just as quick.

“Interesting,” Bee said as she transferred the information to her muscles. “Gemini-Defense, I didn’t think that was possible. How did you circumvent the synaptic synchronization problem?”

Bee with a single thought created two images of her opponents, placed them in the lower right, then labeled them Ansu and the other Azizos. Both were guardians with separate but complementary skills. The active image had a green outline, while the second was outlined in red.

A left and right combination of swings flew in, but Bee danced around both attacks. He paused to catch his breath.

During the slight delay before his next assault, a pattern began to take shape. Both of her opponents specialized in the Damage Immunity Threshold Guardian skill. This skill, which Bee could see, granted immunity from all damage if it didn’t meet or exceed a set amount of damage, measured in joules of energy.

She calculated the info and applied it to her chart.

> Arsu – immune to damage between 224,450 joules of kinetic energy to 490 joules. Note: Ignores damage from being hit by an unmodified bullet to being hit by a truck.

>

> Azizos – immune to damage between .05 joules to 500 joules, and from 230,000 joules and above. Note: fingernail scratch to dog bite, and lightning strike or above.

Number-22 squared his shoulders to Bee and stood back up at his full height.

“Identical twins don’t have sync problems,” he said.

From the side of his lips, Number-22 said, “Shut up!”

Bee ran her fingers across her muscles, changing them back to fast twitch and an extra bust of speed. Her muscles shrunk down, making her appear more toned.

Number-22 smirked.

“How long does it take for you to switch between muscle types? Two and a half minutes?” he asked and flicked his fingers to the side. “Is it less than 30 seconds?”

His skin changed back to ivory white, and bull rushed. Bee zig-zagged out of the way, and Number-22 crashed into the wall. Strips of steel rebar bent around him, his clothes were torn, but his skin was unscratched.

Bee’s eyes turned bluish-green as she scanned his medical and biological condition.

His skin was tense like a sheet of steel, and his fast-twitch muscles were as strong as granite but couldn’t see further. Her eyes changed to a subtle violet as she switched to the X-ray band. His tendons and ligaments were thick as steel cables.

“Something’s off,” Bee said. “I need to stop thinking like a fighter and more like a doctor.”

He bull rushed again, and she tumbled and rolled out of the way. Instead of initiating a second rush, he swung his arms and hit Bee in the middle of the shoulders. The punch shook her internal orals as she activated her ‘Heal Thy Self’ skill and prevented the rush of blood into the pericardium, the protective sack surrounding the heart.

"If the impact had been just a few centimeters to the left, it could have ruptured my pericardium," she thought, her mind calculating anatomical margins of safety. "His timing was off by a mere 0.06 milliseconds.”

She changed her eyes to a cybernetic silver. His central nervous system, normally located in the base of the brain, going through the spinal cord and spreading throughout the body-was missing.

“How can he control his movement?” she wondered and zoomed out.

Then, in that instant, she saw it. A thin line of neatly stacked gold atoms ran along his arms and body.

“We require additional strength to defeat the White Witch’s healing ability,” Number-22 said.

He punched his hands against the wall. The steel rebar melted and formed a gauntlet around his hands. The melted metal continued to move upwards and stopped around his shoulders. Extra fingers grew from the gauntlet and curled into claws.

“His muscles are too thick,” she thought as she bared her teeth in a wicked grin. “He needs that subatomic gold to control his movements.”

Number-22 pulled his fist back and Bull Rushed. Instead of dodging, she brought her arms up and activated the ‘Heal Thy Self’ skill. He pushed her back two meters. His clawed hands swiped at empty air, thinking she would try to roll out of the way.

She waved her hand and summoned her scalpel. The tip glowed bioluminescent blue.

“Micro-surgery, level five, activate!” she shouted.

The second rush pushed her back even further. Realizing that Bee was in front of him, he brought his fists into the air.

Then Number-22 stood still.

Bee had brought down the blade on his spine, but it didn’t piece the surface. Electricity popped and sizzled as she held it firmly, twisting it around in a clockwise motion.

“How?” he asked, his lips only slightly moving.

She moved the blade up his spine and to the base of his neck. Bee helicoptered it around and stood beside him, grinning evilly.

“I've effectively rendered your gold monofilament nerves inoperable by rerouting the neural signals from your brain, now surrender,” Bee said.

“Never…I still have my brother,” he replied.

His skin changed to ash grey.

"Wrong answer," Bee said.

She twisted the scalpel and cut away a small portion of skin at the base of his skull. Then pushed her fingers into the wound wrapped the nerves around her fingers and jumped back.

“Not this time,” she said and extended her fingers.

As she began to wiggle then, he stood up straight. His head and arms slumped over.

She nodded towards Number-6, “It’s over when I say it’s over…and I say it’s over.”

Silence filled the room. Bee checked the other gang members, sizing them up, and searching to see who would try to attack her first if they decided to rush her. She moved her puppet in front of her and brought his hands up in defense.

“Indeed, White Witch of the Tower, you are a formidable player,” Number-6 said. “As per our arrangement, you may walk to home plate.”

Bee relaxed and said, “I’ll be borrowing your man here, at least for a bit, and take this with me.”

She picked up the scattered papers and tucked them under her arm.

The Furies parted as she passed by.

“I hope you are proud of me Estelle,” Bee thought beaming proudly. “Wait…what am I thinking?”

She headed out of the apartment building and towards the gold mine.

***