Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!

Adam wakes as if from a dream. He is in some strange locker room, lit by strange light, smelling of strange odors. Something scuttles in the corner. Adam grabs Thunderhammerbat to strike it--it is a man. Or, some weasel-like simulacrum of a man. A HOMUNCULUS, it seems. Adam withholds Thunderhammerbat, and watches with wonder as the HOMUNCULUS straps on the catcher's gear.

So, there is baseball in this place?

Adam dutifully dresses in his new uniform, wary for ambush. He follows the men through the clubhouse. Little Zimmy is nowhere to be seen.

Avast! Some man claims Adam's station at first base! Adam will not play defense? What, is he to sit idly between innings, juggling Thunderhammerbat like a toy? Is he to play only half a game of baseball?

Ozymandias crouches in the corner. A towel is draped over his shoulders. He laughs and chews gum at the same time.

What is this wicked, bewildering world?