Chapter 26 - OneArmedAce

Katie's thumb hovered over the "Send" button. The livestream link glared on her phone screen like an accusation.

OneArmedAce.

In her sorority's group chat, the cursor blinked mockingly. What if they laugh? What if they pity him? The balloon string dug into her palm, but she pressed send anyway.

@KatieRae23: Guys, pls support!! Michael's comeback is LEGIT!!! 💔⚾️🔥 [LINK]

Phones buzzed across campus. In dorm rooms, lecture halls, and cafeterias, heads turned. Curiosity clicks trickled in.

The viewer count twitched: 107 → 213 → 499…

Comments scrolled faster:

@DeltaQueen: OMG KATIE U THERE?? TELL HIM WE LOVE HIM 😭

@BallIsLife23: Bro's got ONE ARM how he gonna pitch??

@LaxBro420: FAKE NEWS. Where's the robo-arm?

@CheerCaptain: This is so sad… but kinda hot??

Michael stared at the numbers, jaw tight. Too slow. Five-dollar donations trickled in—pity pennies. His stump itched under the bandages, but the Phoenix Vial's icy clarity kept him focused.

[01:58:22…]

Two hours left. Need a catalyst.

His eyes locked onto Landon, who was leaning against the dugout fence, smirking at the "SUPPORT MICHAEL!" poster. The balloon in his hand—Get Well Soon—might as well have said Get Lost.

Perfect.

"Landon." Michael's voice cut through the murmur of the crew setting up cameras. "Grab a bat."

Landon froze mid-eye-roll. "What?"

"You're batting." Michael tossed a baseball toward Tyler, who fumbled to catch it. "Tyler's catching. Let's give the crowd a show."

Tyler's face paled. "Dude, I haven't caught since—"

"Now."

Landon scoffed, twirling the balloon string. 

"Cute bit, Cobb. But let's be real—you want me to whiff at some softballs? Make you look brave?" He winked at Katie. "I'll play along. For the drama."

Exactly. Michael hid a smile. Landon's ego was a cliff—easy to push off. "Helmet's in the dugout."

As Landon sauntered off, Katie grabbed Michael's sleeve. "What're you doing? He'll crush you!"

Michael glanced at her hand. 

Three months ago, her touch would've melted him. Now it felt like a moth brushing his arm—annoying, but harmless.

"Crushing me's the point." He pulled free, nodding at her phone. "Keep sharing."

Landon returned, buckling a helmet with exaggerated slowness. 

He selected a bat from the rack—a 34-inch maple beast, his favorite. "Gonna swing easy, Cobb. Don't wanna break your spirit." He smirked for Jake's camera. "Or your face."

The comment section erupted:

@UTFan4ever: LANDON VS. COBB?? THIS IS SAVAGE

@DeltaQueen: LANDON PLS BE NICE 😭

@TrollMaster69: RIP ONE-ARM WONDER 🤣

Tyler crouched behind home plate, mitt trembling. "Mike, maybe start slow? Like… underhand?"

Michael ignored him. His left fingers curled around the ball's seams—four-seam grip, middle finger along the horseshoe. Muscle memory fired, sharpened by the vial's magic.

"Ready?" Michael called.

Landon tapped the plate lazily. "Give me your best—"

The windup was a blur. Michael's left arm whipped forward, a slingshot of muscle and rage.

THWACK!

The ball screamed past Landon's chest, smacking into Tyler's mitt so hard it knocked him backward into the dirt.

Silence.

Landon stood frozen, bat still on his shoulder. The crowd—Tyler's crew, gawking students, the groundskeeper—stared, mouths open.

Comments exploded:

@BallIsLife23: WHAT THE ACTUAL F

@DeltaQueen: DID HE ACTUALLY JUST PITCHED ONE-ARMED????

@CheerCaptain: I TAKE IT BACK THIS IS JUST HOT

Landon blinked. His ears rang. That pitch had hummed—a pissed-off fastball straight out of Michael's glory days.

No. Impossible.

Michael snatched another ball. "Strike one."

Landon's fingers tightened around the bat, his muscles locking up like rusted hinges. 

His brain screamed at him to swing, but his body refused to move. The crack of the ball hitting Tyler's mitt sounded more like a gunshot than a pitch.

What… the hell…?

He'd faced Michael's fastballs before—back when Michael had two arms and a future. Even then, Landon could read his pitches. The slight tilt of the wrist, the twitch of the shoulder. But this? This was something else. The ball left Michael's hand like it had been fired from a cannon. No windup tells. No hesitation. Just raw, terrifying speed.

Landon's throat went dry. No way. No freaking way. His left arm wasn't even his pitching arm!

"Strike one!" Tyler croaked from the ground, his voice trembling. The camera crew snickered. Landon shot them a glare, but his hands were sweating inside his batting gloves.

"Lucky throw," he muttered, adjusting his helmet. His heart pounded like it was trying to escape his chest. Calm down. He's got one arm. He's a cripple. This is just… a fluke.

Michael scooped another ball from the bucket, his expression blank. Landon dug his cleats into the dirt, forcing his lungs to take a deep breath. Watch the release point. Ignore the missing arm. Just focus on the ball.

The second pitch came faster.

Landon's eyes widened. The ball spun like a bullet, seams blurring as it screamed toward him. Instincts kicked in—he swung hard, aiming for the low outside corner where Michael's old fastballs used to dip.

But the ball didn't dip.

It rose.

Landon's bat sliced through empty air as the ball smacked into Tyler's mitt with a sound like a firecracker.

"Strike two!" Tyler yelped.

The crowd—now swelling with curious students—erupted in gasps and cheers. Landon's ears burned. He could hear Jake laughing behind the camera. "Dude's making you look like a T-ball rookie!"

Shut up. Shut up! Landon's grip on the bat turned vicious. His pride clawed at him. He was the team's star hitter. The guy who'd batted .350 last season. He couldn't get shown up by a… by a…

One-armed freak.

Katie's phone slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the bleachers. She didn't bother picking it up. Her eyes were glued to Michael, his left arm whipping forward like a piston, each pitch faster than the last.

He's… different.

The Michael she'd known in the hospital had been hollow. Broken. But this? This was the boy who'd pitched a no-hitter at state finals. No—this was sharper. Hungrier. His gaze didn't flicker to her once, not even when Landon taunted him.

Guilt twisted her stomach. She'd left him. Convinced herself he'd never come back. But look at him.

The third pitch exploded from Michael's hand. Landon swung wildly, his bat cracking the air like a whip. The ball slammed into the backstop, tearing a chunk out of the plywood.

"Strike three!" Tyler shouted, scrambling to his feet.

The crowd roared. Katie's hands flew to her mouth. Landon stood frozen at the plate, his face pale.

He struck out. Landon actually struck out.

"YEAH, MIKE!" Jake whooped, nearly dropping the camera. The live viewer count was skyrocketing—123, 189, 230. Comments flooded the screen:

@LaxBro420: LANDON LOOKIN LIKE A TODDLER RN

@UTFan4ever: COBB'S BACK????

Landon's cheeks flushed. The bat felt like a lead pipe. He's… he's really doing this.

Donation alerts chimed like slot machines:

+$20.00 – "HOLY S* THAT WAS AMAZING"**

+$50.00 – "TAKE MY MONEY"

+$100.00 – "FROM A CUBS SCOUT – DM ME"

Tyler grinned, waving at Luis to angle the camera toward Landon's shell-shocked face. "Get his reaction! This is gold!"

Luis snorted. "Dude looks like he's gonna cry."

"Hey Landon!" Jake cupped his hands around his mouth. "Need a tissue?"

[00:47:03…]

Michael snatched another ball, his mind racing. The Phoenix Vial's timer burned in the corner of his vision. Landon's humiliation was a spark—now he needed to fan it into a wildfire.

Donations are pouring in. But it's not enough.

He glanced at the live chat. Skeptics were already cropping up:

@RealPitcher23: Fake. CGI.

@MedStudent101: No way his left arm developed that muscle so fast after losing the right. Physics doesn't work that way!

Need to crush the doubts. Now.