literature

OFF Color 22

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         The lift doors open silently. The Batter stepped off onto the roof, greeting by a soft breeze that ruffled his cloak. He’d never felt a breeze before. When the zones were younger, there was no weather. Every day was the same. Now, not only was there a sun, but there was wind.
         He glanced around, bat in hand, and found Lotu on the other side of the roof, painting. Her back was to him, painting the same scene she’d painted a hundred times before.
         “312, is that you? I could use some more green. Go get me some,” she commanded. When the Batter didn’t answer her, she turned around with an annoyed expression. But instead of shouting, she gasped.
         “Where did you come from? The Colors should have taken care of you,” she growled, recovering quickly.
         “They were nothing,” the Batter replied, swinging his bat to emphasize his point.
         Suddenly, she gave a piercing screech. She pointed a shaky finger at the bat.
         “What is that?” she demanded.
         “What? This?” the Batter asked, holding up his weapon. “It’s a baseball bat.”
         “No, the color,” Lotu breathed.
         “Oh, I thought you’d like it. I was told it was your favorite color,” the Batter said with a smirk.
         Lotu’s bronzed face turned a strange shade of purple. She appeared to be holding something in that needed to escape. She let out a long sigh, releasing her tension. Her faced turned to an angry pink, making her appear less like a beet. Finally, she spoke.
         “How dare you bring that color to me?” she shrieked.
         “You don’t like it?” the Batter said with mock offense.
         “Don’t play stupid with me,” she continued, still raging. “Who put you up to this? 023?”
         “Why does it matter?” he responded, still smiling. “You should just give up now and we won’t have to worry about anything.”
         Lotu screeched, grasping one of her tubes of paints. She frowned, baring all of her teeth, and sent two green splotches of paint right at the Batter.
         “I thought you were almost out of green,” he said, sheilding himself with the cloak.
         “Shut up!” she bellowed.
         Much to his dismay, the cloak did nothing to protect him. The paint burned right through it, leaving growing holes in the fabric. The Batter growled and tossed the garment aside. Zacharie was going to get a talking to.
         Lotu laughed. “Amusing that you thought a simple cape could protect you from my paints.”
         “Yeah, well, it wasn’t even my idea,” he responded, holding up his bat. “Now, what do you say about just surrendering. It could make things a bit easier for both of us.”
         “Not a chance,” she chuckled. “Your bat may be gray, but it is still just a bat.”
         “A bat can do a lot of damage if used right,” he stated.
         She growled. “Not as much as you wish!” She charged, spinning enough to dodge a swing, and emptied her paint tube on the Batter’s shoulder. He shouted in pain as she skidded to a stop behind him. Quickly brushing off the color eased some of the stinging, but it would leave a scar for sure.
         “Not that easy when you have actual skin now, is it?” she chuckled.
         “We’ll see about that,” the Batter said, turning to her. “Furious Homerun!”
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