[center][h3][color=3399ff] JUICE [/color][/h3][/center]

A helmeted figure patted the tee down amongst the ruined concrete, topping it off with a small white sphere with the delicate deliberation of a practised hand.  He stepped back, and lifted a dented but lovingly polished baseball bat off the side of a crumbling concrete wall. He did not seem to be burdened neither by the motorcycle visor nor the countless tinkling cylinders within his leather jacket as he stepped gingerly around, scanning his environs. He was atop an apartment building, lying broken on its side and setting the stage for the champion's greatest shot yet. A heavily synthesized voice started to narrate his movements, heavy with anticipation.

[color=3399ff] [i]"Here he is, the mysterious champion himself, the great Juice on the newly acquired field..."[/i] [/color]

His mark - a tired gray pillar that held what remained of a parking lot in precarious balance. He raised a hand to the clouded sky, setting a gloved finger to the wind. 

[color=3399ff][i]"Wind 5 knots downwind. Quite the weather we have, but we'll have to see if he can hit it, Bob."[/i][/color]

[color=3399ff][i]"Yes, Brent, but he's made harder shots before, he won't fail us now,"[/i][/color]

Underneath the visor held an artisan in focus. In flow. The distant howl of some unknown horror, the clanging of broken sewer pipes and the rustling of stalwart trees, all faded away. It was just the ball, the bat, and the great champion. Muscles tensed, fingers twitching, eyes fixed on the target in the distance. Like a spring, his arm muscles coiled backwards, ready to strike. 

With one fluid motion he brought his power down and through the metal, hitting the ball so hard the tee tore itself from the ground and for a moment, rocketed through the air along with the ball. Not as fast, not as graceful as the ball itself, whistling into the sky. The man steadied himself from his own mighty blow, tracking the white streak in the sky.

[color=3399ff][i]"Three!

Two!

One!"[/i][/color]

Just as the 'ball' was about to barrel into the side of the concrete pillar, it ceased to be a ball but a wild light, a brilliant burst of orange and red painting itself across the drab grey landscape. The crack of the explosion rocked through the otherwise still air, shivering remaining windows and echoing all across the building, before being overtaken by the roar of the rest of the building crumbling upon itself. In a few seconds, the parking lot was replaced with a giant dust cloud and a few startled Lost buried under the rubble.

[color=3399ff][i]"By Jove, he's done it! He's done it again! The grenade golf champion strikes again!"[/i][/color]

[color=3399ff]"Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!"[/color] The champion threw away the bat and ran around the rooftop in triumph, arms in the air and pumping his fists at the cheers of the 'crowd'. And then, as if a divine hand had enough of such madness and finally found the plug, the helmeted figure abruptly collapsed mid-elation and landed on the floor with a thwack.

Juice murmured something incoherently.

Between rusting cars, an equally incoherent grumble answered, shifting between inhuman and barely human.

He rolled over, staring blankly at the sky. [color=3399ff]"I'm bored..."[/color]

The grumbling became more louder, more insistent. 

Juice let out a sigh as he pulled himself up from the ground. [color=3399ff]"Yeah yeah, I'll get off your lawn."[/color] In a series of red flashes, he snatched up the bat, marvelled at his handiwork of a dust cloud, and gave the closest shambling Lost a small wave before disappearing between the ruins.