I'm having deja-vu all over again. Why dodgeball of all things? I don't want to have the shit balled out of my existence again. And that was against one supernatural being. Now I have to tango with beastmen and pixies and a magical dipshit. I'm not a jock, dang it! I'm a mysterious new kid bad boy, my face might as well be a magnet for balls.

"Dodgeball has long been used by our kind to settle differences, and show dominance," whispers Trevor the Man-man as he leans towards Hayden. "It is an ultimate test of leadership, making you think of strategies on the spot, resource management, team communication and delegation, and physical prowess. You can't brute-force your way to victory. It is a battle of both wits and strength."

"Hey, you mind opening up the floor for the rest of us who don't know what the hell is happening?" I ask as I insert myself in the convo, not unlike a pug at a house party begging for attention and maybe a slice of pizza.

Hayden doesn't even give me a glance or acknowledges my existence. Maybe because of the whole killing-a-guy thing. Can't really blame him. The nose-turn Trevor the Man-man gives me does tingle my grundle a little.

"I thought you didn't want my encyclopedic knowledge of the forest's social and historical norms, Master Ayden," says Trevor the Man-man, sneaking a snicker at the end there, and not the delicious nougat kind.

"Yeah, and I also thought I liked girls in season 1. I'm allowed a change of heart."

Trevor the Man-man gives me a ginger look of thinly-veiled contempt and sunburn, before smashing his cane/stick twice in what I think he thought is a dignified manner, but looks like a child in a park with a cool stick he found laying around.

"As you wish. If you want my wisdom, I shall give it to you. As you know, Dodgeball was invented by Bartholomew S. Dodgeball in 1897, when he was playing a game of Hitting-each-other-with-a-rubber-ball with his brother, Reginald F. Dodgeball, and he accidentally ducked at the last second to tie up his shoes. This simple act sparked the curiosity of both brothers, as dodging pain was an unknown and unmanly concept at the time. You were supposed to take it like a man, like their dad took that bullet in the second Afghan war. This little act would-"

"You know what? I stand corrected. Too much info, and I really don't care. Zip it, Wendy."

The red-haired baldy glares at me before bowing slightly. "As you wish, Master Ayden. I'll attend to Master Okayden now. If you would excuse me... dick."

"Joke's on you, pal. I've been called a dick so much that it lost all meaning!"

He has the audacity of not giving a fuck to my comeback and walks off, leaving me alone with Hayden.

Hayden crosses his arms, shifting his weight from side to side, not looking at his beautiful, hand-crafter-by-Jesus boyfriend. Is he mad at me? Oh, no, he's mad at me. I don't want the love of my life to be mad at me! Shit, think fast. Buy him flowers. Wait, can't do that here. Suck his weewee? Too public. Or maybe he likes adventurous stuff. I'll put a pin on that. Maybe a kiss. Yes, a kiss. I'll give him a kiss. Can't stay mad at me while giving your s.o a kiss. It's the law.

"Hey, babe," I tell Hayden while wrapping my arms against the huge Amazon rainforest tree-trunk he calls an arm, "I missed you. Can I have a kissy-kiss? Please? Kissy baby? Daddy mad at baby?"

Hayden, as if snapped from a daze, looks at me for the first time in a while, not with contempt or shame, but with surprise, as if the most beautiful boy in his life wasn't coiling around his arm like a naga. See? Not racist. Snake man is naga.

"Ah, yes, kiss," he splutters, giving me the saddest kiss I've ever been given. Granted, I haven't kissed that much yet, but this is a bottom-tier kiss, at best, only bested by the time Hayden started to experiment with a mustache. It was prickly and smelled of cheese, which makes me feel like I was kissing an elderly mouse.

"Whoa, lemme take a sip of water. I'm getting dehydrated by how dry you're being with me right now," I say.

Hayden snaps from his trance back again, takes a small water thermos from somewhere in his back pocket, and hands it to me. I'll have to unironically ask how much junk is inside those trunks later. "Here, drink up, babe."

"Okay, you're being a little weird right now," I tell him, "and that's coming from someone standing on a magic platform inside a hollowed-out trunk about to play a game of magic Dodgeball. Is it because I killed a dude? Because I said I was sorry. You're my boyfriend, you can't be mad if I say I was sorry!"

I pull his arm to try and snap him out of his weird trance, to no avail. It's like trying to tip a cow. They don't even have wallets to keep the money. Impossible. I'll have to do it the kinky way.

See, Hayden, like the Greek hero Achilles, is strong, but not invincible. On the back of his head, right where the neck meets the back, is a spot that if you lick it just right...

I stand on the tip of my feet and give that spot a good licking. I can see every hair on his back stand on ends as goosebumps crawl all over his body. He immediately releases a high-pitched moan, followed by a useless attempt at covering his mouth as his body crouches forwards. It's kind of a nuclear option, but I have no choice. I'm like Tinkerbell, in which I'm unusually thick for my size, and that I need constant attention or I'll die.

"Babe, what the heck? There are people around!" yells Hayden in a faux whisper as he rubs my saliva off the back of his neck.

Okay, so he doesn't like PDA. Gotcha.

"Sorry, but you were giving me not-so-cash-money vibes. I already said I was sorry."

"About what?" asks Hayden.

"Killing a dude?"

"Oh, yes, that," says Hayden. He scratches his chin in contemplation. You know, I didn't like his mustache, but he would look fine in a goatee. "Don't worry about that. Well, do worry about that, but not like, right now. Let's just table the whole murder thing for later, yeah? I'm not mad."

"Then, what's bugging you? Don't make me worry like that! I thought you hated me now."

Yeah, I know. I'm a needy bitch, sue me. You get a golden retriever boyfriend and tell me how it doesn't feel like your world falls apart when he gets weird with you.

"No, no, nothing is wrong," he says as he makes a punch with his right hand. His eyes stay the same hazy air they have, but his mouth curves into an awkward smirk. "Is just that... is it bad if I'm a little bit excited by the challenge of playing against magical beings?"

Oh, fuck me. His fist is tight, his eyes are cloudy, and the smirk... that damn bad boy smirk! Like a werewolf transforming under the moonlight, Hayden is transforming into his bad boy jock self!

I grab his fiesta-sized fists with both my hands and rub it against my cheeks. "Babe, wubby-hubby, mi amor, remember that we are here to help Okayden. Please, don't get carried away. Pretty please, with some extra melted please on top."

Hayden doesn't look at me, but bites his lips while gently shaking. I can see him trying to fight against his competitive urge. I'm sorry, babe.

"I'll try, love. I'll try."

The magic lights, as if to cut our conversation short, converge on the podium where the dragnpa has his hands up, eliciting a wave of yells and shouts from the peanut gallery.

"We shall now begin with the traditional Dodgeball election match!" yells the dragnpa, pausing for the crescendo of excitement from the spectators. "I trust you all know the rules of the game by now, so we shall-"

Nu-uh. Fuck this. I'm not gonna fall for that one again. I don't wanna be labeled a murderer again by hitting the pixie with a ball before finding out that we had to juggle the balls instead or some dumb shit like that. My arm shots upwards and I wave it around, all the while making annoying noises an auction house auctioneer would make. "Heyheyhey, here, here, question, here, notice me, hey! Wohoooo, helloooo!"

The dragnpa looks at me with distaste and contempt as the exciting vibe of the event grinds to a halt. "What? You don't know how to play dodgeball? Even kids have the mental acuity to understand something every kid plays in school at some point."

Well, you don't have to be a douche about it. "No, yeah, I get it. But I wanna ask a few questions."

The dragnpa huffs and puffs thin blue flames as he tugs at his beard. "Okay, but make it quick. You're killing the vibe."

"Thank you, your honor," I say with a vibe.

"I'm not a judge, human."

"I'm sorry, your highness," I repeat. "Just to make sure I got this, when you say we are playing dodgeball, we are grabbing balls and throwing them at each other, right?"

"That is the gist of it, yes," says the dragnpa. "Preferably, you want to dodge said balls. Hence, the name dodgeball. You dodge balls."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I say.

"If you have to ask, I highly doubt that."

"And, pray tell, what would happen if I get hit and I fall from this here magic platform?"

"What's wrong, Colonel Sanders? You chicken?" says the Vamwolf.

"I just don't wanna die," I comment.

A voice from the bleachers reaches me above all the jittering and hollering. I think it's the Minotaur's. "And neither did Jerry, you cuck!"

"I assure you," says the dragnpa, "that you won't lose your life from falling off the platform. I normally say that you won't lose your life, period, but, well, you know."

Let it be known that he waves his hands dismissively in the direction of the still-smoldering bus in the distance.

"Well, without any other stupid interruptions," says the dragnpa with a glare at my general direction, "we shall start with the team drafting. I would say it is self-explanatory, but to get even the slowest of us up to speed-"

Let it be known that he says that while maintaining prolonged eye contact with me.

"-let me explain. The first-place contender will choose first, followed by the second-place contender placing his choice. Then the person chosen by the first place contender will choose the next teammates themselves, and so on, alternating between teams, until we have a five against five."

That's completely un-self-explanatory! Good thing I took a sip out of my dumb bitch juice and had it explained it to me.

"And so, we will begin with our first-round draft! Number 1 contender, Brayden Messina-Park, please, make the first choice!"

The magic lights focus on Brayden, who is looking smug and stupid, as always. I just think he likes the attention. He looks up to the magic JumboTron, looking at his own close-up face.

"look, daddy, im on tv! buy my merch at babybrayden.tv/merch and use code "1D4ever" for a 15% extra fee with any purchase. daddy needs some moolah!"

"Mr. Brayden, can you please pick your first team-mate?" says the dragnpa.

"for what?" asks Brayden.

"...For the dodgeball game. Did you hear anything I've said in the past five minutes?"

"dodgeball? are we in p.e? yeah, that's gonna be a not for me, dawg. got a bussin rumbling in my tummy, fr. can i be excused?" asks Brayden with a blank, and very dumb expression.

The dragnpa turns towards me and gives me a deep bow. "I'm sorry about my harsh words. I have been given a glimpse into the deep abyss of true stupidity, and I am a changed man."

Hey, more power to you, man.

"Brayden," says Hayden in a voice befitting a drill sergeant, "choose a teammate and get it over with."

Brayden looks down and kicks the floor like a kid who was told he couldn't go out to play until he eats his veggies first. "alright. i choose... hayden. you're the jock, you deal with it," he finally says. "meanie."

Alright, Hayden is a solid choice. I doubt the Vamwolf will allow Okayden to be on his team, so locking in the human panzer that is Hayden will lock us a much-needed offensive powerhouse.

"Fifth place, Hayden Wilson, has been chosen!" says the dragnpa, followed by a buzzing from the crowd. "Second place, Vampyr Von Woof, it is your turn to choose!"

He doesn't take any moment to bullshit around. "I choose Bullsion!"

Well, he's by far the most physically impressive of the lot. Not that the Vamwolf is skinny, mind you. We are up against a formidable team.

"Fourth place, Bullsion, has been chosen. Fifth place, Hayden Wilson, it is your turn to choose!"

Hayden should choose me or Okayden, then the other picks me, and we are set. I'll then have to choose the last member from the available pool. Maybe the pixie would be a good choice. She doesn't seem to have any strength, but she's a small, flying target. It would be like trying to kill a fly by throwing pebbles at it. Or maybe the furry. We do need cannon fodder, or maybe-

"I choose Trevor the Man-man!" says Hayden.

Or that. He could do that. What the fuck, bro? I'm right here! Or even Okayden. I know they worked together last round, but damn. What is he thinking? I look at him in the eyes and mouth "What the fuck" at him.

He mouths "Min-max" at me. That, or "Mewtwo." I'll go with the first. Damn his bad boy jock-isms, prioritizing efficiency over friendship.

"Sixt place, Trevor the Man-man, has been chosen. Fourth Place, Bullsion, is now your turn!"

"Bullsion chose a small fly person," says the brute, referring to the pixie.

"Ninth place, Pestonia Ursula Testarrosa, has been chosen! Sixt place, it's your time to choose."

The dirty redhead looks at me and sneers evily, with a smug and cruel laugh coming out of his whore mouth. I don't think he's going to choose me.

"I choose Master Okayden," he says.

"Third place, Okayden McHuman, has been chosen! Ninth place, it's your time to choose!"

Okay, then. I thought for a second he was going to do sneaky redhead shit and backstab us. That would've been grand. Now, Okayden has to choose me, and-

"I choose Eight place, Ayden Gomez!"

What now? Me? Not in my boo's team? The fuck?

"Eight place, Ayden Gomez, has been-"

"Nope! Nope, no, no, no, I refuse!" I yell. "I ain't doing shit! I refuse to go with the Vamwolf!"

"Okay, you can go, then," says the dragnpa with a smile.

Oh. Hu. I thought it was gonna be harder to weasel myself out. "So, I just...go?"

"Yes, you can go," he repeats.

"Good, good. So, I'll just... yeah."

I turn around to leave, only to be met by, well, a fifty-foot drop. I'm still on a damn floating platform.

"Hey, can you, like, help me down?" I ask the dragnpa.

The old dragonoid smiles warmly at before uttering a sentencing "No," followed by laughter from the audience. "Want help going down? Then, you have to participate. Easy as that."

I suddenly want to make him into a soup and eat his eyes. This old, scaly bitch. "Fine. I'll go. But don't be surprised if one of my balls hits you in the cloaca."

"I have an anus," says the dragnpa as a matter of fact. "Now, Third place, the choice is yours. You will be choosing for both teams. Only two remain, so choose wisely. Will you take the blue-furred meace, of the giggling interloper?"

So, between a Furry and an LB. This will be fun.

Okayden looks at the LB, "fufufu"ing to himself as she flips his bangs back and forth. The other is a furry that crinkles every time he moves. Honestly, either one looks like a bad time. He raises his hand to point at the furry, but somehow, and don't ask me why, the furry head winks at him. Okayden immediately points at the LB while sweating profusely.

"And so, the die has been cast!" says the dragnpa to thunderous applause. "Tenth place shall go to team A, while Seventh place will go to team B! Please, may each team go take their place?"

The crowd goes wild as the JumboTron displays both teams side by side, each on a different side of the court.

"And so, the ancient battle of Dodgeball to decide the defender of the forest will begin! In team B, we have Vampyr von Woof, Bullsion, Pestonia Ursula Testarrosa, Ayden Gomez, and Captain Wagtail!"

The Vamwolf howls at the moon while panting like someone who should be on some kind of government list.

"And in team A we have Brayden Messina-Park, Hayden Wilson, Trevor the Man-man, Okayden McHuman, and last, but not least...oh, dear. I'm afraid we don't have your name. Can you tell us your name from the record, human?"

The LB chuckles to himself, giving the dragnpa a deep bow. "Ah, that is quite alright, my starry droogie. Do make note to brand my eemya in your memory, for it will be known in eons as your next king. Feel utter dispair as I, Jayden Traitoro Judasson, will destroy the competition!"

Yeah, he's definitely going to backstab us in the bum-bum.