Legends of Equestria: Night's Calling, 1

CHAPTER 1 =A BUGGED FOUL=

The ball speed increased the closer it got to the ground...

closer and closer...

and it fell...

just an inch before the rail

and just below it, one of the outfielders caught it right in his gloves...

It seemed like everypony in the stadium said, "WHAT?!", and our coach, who came back a while ago, seemed to be hit the most with this development.

A thing with our coach, is that he is very...  antagonized by cheating, it's one of his pet peeves, something he's obsessed over.

Our coach stepped onto the field, waving his hooves in the air, calling a time out.  He was shouting at the referee, how he says the ball was tampered with in some way to end up like that.  Honestly it seemed that way, though it was very unlikely, it happened.

The coach kept arguing with the ref, and it started to get violent.  The ref said he will go and consult the peacemakers to see if there was any use of magic on the ball.

"This all could have been a setup!  They could lie!" the coach yelled, "Don't you go running- as the referee started pacing away -away!"

Now, anypony with a lick of sense knows that the coach was being delusional, and overreacting.  Even my teammates were gossiping between themselves about him.  He grumbled things to himself as he walked back into the dugout, he turned to me and said, "Erin, you're up."

Yeah, that's my name, Erin, Erin Waywind.  I've dreamed of becoming a baseball All-star since I was little.  Because, baseball always-

"Come on, we don't have all day.  Get up there."  the coach demanded.  Sheesh, you don't have to interrupt my thoughts...

I grab my bat in my mouth and walk up the steps onto the field, to pass by the ego-broken Blazed.  He was looking down and surprised at the same time.  He glanced at me for a second and looked the other way, I guess he was embarrassed that he couldn't impress me...

I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him, but still, he shouldn't have acted so cocky...  One's ego can become one's folly

I looked around the field seeing my adamant-spirit faced teammates standing ready for the next base.  The other team showed only their own firm and steady appearance.  No fear, but a sign of fraud pride on all their faces.  The pitcher looked at me as if he was insulting every manner of myself as I stood next to the plate.  He spat on the ground next to him, and cocked his head from side to side.  It seemed everypony here had competitive problems.  He dragged on that dramatic act longer than was necessary to drive his point through.

"Can we just get this over with?" I said to the pitcher, shrugging while I did.

"With pleasure." he replied.  He immediately threw the ball at me, an easy 80 MPH fastball.  But at the time he threw it, it caught me off guard to get back into batting position, so I didn't swing.

"STRIKE ONE!" The umpire yelled, then the catcher threw the ball back to the pitcher.  The colt smiled in an heinous manner, knowing that was unfair play.

Grr... must every team we face have to use foul play at least once every time?

I dislike foul play as much as the next pony, but this was ridiculous.  The prideful oaf smirked once more, lifting his head to the wind seemingly heroic.  It's obvious that he wasn't going to play nice, like he has been already.  The next throw was just coming up now.  The pitcher hurled back and threw a tight curveball coming at me at around the same speed as his previous throw.

It was hard to decide to swing or hold in that situation.  I remembered the words of my trainer, keep a calm and collected mind, and you'll know when to swing.  The world slowed, and inches in front of me, the ball made a swift turn out of my swinging radius.  He expected me to fall for a simple psychological trick.  I didn't swing.

The catcher claimed the ball.  I listened for a second to hear what the umpire's call was.

"STRIKE TWO!" he called.

WHAT?

I could hear the protests coming from my team in the dugout.  That was an unfair call, it's obvious now that he doesn't care much for this, as it has been carrying on for too long, and he just wants to go home.  This next throw, I have to hit it.

The opposing team has a reputation for being smug, but in their history they usually only give one chance for each batter to hit the ball, at least a fair one.  No doubt to brag about it when they procure the spoils of their cheap victory.  If things go as I think they will, then I might just win this for us.

The catcher threw the ball back to the pitcher.

The time is now, the world slowed once more as I focused.  The pitcher took his stance, no dramatic display, no smug semblance, just straight to the point.  At least he finally breaks from his continuous spree of insults for once.

Everything was silent.  I could hear the wind brushing the grass of the playing field, the howl, and the distant sounds of city traffic.  But, there was something off...

The ball flew out of the pitcher's hoof.  Slowly approaching, creeping, crawling towards me...  There was a sound, coming from above, a far off noise of bizarre.  It kind of sounded like the sort of thing like when you jiggle your cheeks really fast.  A... "pattering" type of noise.  I break from my focus, and the world returned to normal, the crowd's awe as they watch me straight out neglect to swing at a fastball straight for me.  I couldn't stop getting the feeling that something was coming, right this moment.

Booing came from the crowd, as well as a wave of disappointment, even the umpire seemed to be astonished seeing that I didn't swing, and didn't realize that he hasn't called out the result of the throw yet.

"u-uh, Strike Three?" he said.  The umpire stating that only seemed to make the crowd's protest worse.  Why didn't I swing?  Because every time I get this feeling, something bad is about to happen.

I look up to the sky, the sun still directly overhead, microwaving us as we played.  But just as soon as I was considering myself done surveying the sky, a blackish blanket of dots were coming over the stadium.  The crowd silenced its uproar, if only for a second.  Angry protest turned into shouts of confusion.  When the sun was blocked by the veil of foreign darkness, everypony could make out each individual speck.  They appeared to be ponies, but, ponies all of the same color?  That wasn't right...

The spectators confusion turned into panic as the strange black ponies started skydiving from above, each one hitting random places on the surface area of the stadium.  They were attacking us!