DISCLAIMER: It belongs not to me.

A/N: Really, really not happy with this set but I wanted to churn something out. I especially loathe how 'yoga' came out, that one just killed me XP

Inspired by the sports talk in the forumroom.

(this chapter dedicated to n.s.c.m.)

(five sports captain rejected and one he liked)

"My minions grow tubby," Captain announced at breakfast one morning.

They all stared at him. Snippy was the first to react, self-consciously glancing down at himself. He was most certainly not tubby. In fact, he was thinner than he'd ever been. Erratic diet plus constantly running away from monsters plus frequent throwing up from bad canned food didn't leave much room for one to grow chubby.

"Excuse me?" he said indignantly. "I'm not fat. And Pilot's not fat either. I'm not so sure about Engie."

Said engineer angrily whacked him upside the head and muttered something about Snippy being a certain unsavoury part of the human anatomy.

Pilot set aside his half-finished can of spaghetti-Os.

"I'll go run laps, Captain!" he offered, jumping up. "I'll do push-ups until I'm not a teletubby anymore!"

"Sit down," Snippy said, tugging on his arm. "You don't need to run laps."

Captain was tapping his chin thoughtfully. "It's time to see who's the biggest loser!" he announced, and Snippy felt the beginnings of the usual dread that always formed when Captain began to explain one of his plans.

"Snippy!" Pilot yelled. "Mr Snippy's the biggest loser!"

Engie seemed to find that much more funny than was strictly necessary.

Captain got to his feet and brushed himself down. He strode off, evidently expecting them to follow him. With a long-suffering sigh, Snippy shovelled down the last of his meal and got up.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Engie muttered as he followed suit.

Snippy glanced over at him. "Man up. At least he's not sending us on another shopping trip."

Considering how well the last 'shopping trip' had gone, Engie couldn't exactly argue with that.


"Ouch," Snippy said flatly as a cricket ball hit him in the head. His hood muffled the worst of the blow, and he bent down to pick up the offending missile. "What's this for?"

Captain brandished a cricket bat wildly, nearly knocking out Pilot, who was standing behind him.

"We are playing a most excellent sport!" he announced. They were standing on the remains of a large, squarish campus, the grass dried up and dead and several small craters littering the field.

Two bases had been set up. A set of wickets stood in front of one of them.

"What sport is this meant to be?" Engie inquired, looking around.

Pilot bounced up and down excitedly. "What are we playing, what are we playing?"

"Batter up!" Captain shoved the bat into Engie's hands and pushed him towards the wicket. "I shall assign you into two teams. Mr Engie, Mr Snippy, you are TEAM UKULELE. You shall bat first."

"Okaaaay," was all Snippy managed.

"Pilot, you, Photoshop and Mr Kittyhawk are TEAM BABUSHKA. You are fielding. Pilot, pass me the ball." Pilot snatched the ball from Snippy and tossed it to Captain, who caught it neatly in one hand.

"Wait, wait! I don't understand the rules," Snippy said quickly. "What are we playing?"

"Apparently, cricket," Engie muttered. He attempted to twirl the bat around in his hand, but failed epically and dropped it. Snippy snorted.

"Yes!" Captain agreed. "This game is called Apparently Cricket. It is a variation on regular cricket because we do not have enough players. Mr Engie will hit the ball and attempt to run between the bases as many times as possible before Pilot and the other fielders retrieve the ball and return it to me. I am bowling."

"Then what?"

"Then you have your turn. You and Mr Engie will have three turns each and then the teams will swap. Pilot and Photoshop will bat. Then we'll see which team has the most runs!" Captain exclaimed. "Kapish? We're starting now."

Pilot ran out to the middle of the campus, where Photoshop and Mr Kittyhawk were already standing.

Engie hefted the bat.

Captain walked back a few paces and then ran along the bowling strip. With a very dramatic flourish, he flung the ball towards Engie. There was great power behind his toss, and the ball zipped towards the Engineer at top speed.

"Whoah!" Engie yelled, and ducked to avoid being hit in the face. The ball flew over his head and landed on the grass behind him.

"Strike one!" Captain said cheerfully, as Snippy threw the ball back to him.

Engie straightened up angrily. "Don't throw it so hard-"

He broke off as Captain threw the ball again. Wildly he flailed with the bat, but missed. The ball landed behind him.

"Strike two!" Captain declared. He sounded a bit annoyed. "Try harder, minion!"

"You suck at this!" Pilot shrieked from out on the field.

Snippy was finding this rather entertaining.

Captain hefted the ball and bowled again. This time Engie braced himself and the bat struck the ball with a triumphant crack!

It flew a grand total of three centimetres.

"Run! Run!" Snippy urged him, and Engie started to run, dithered a moment as he debated whether to take the bat with him, dropped the bat, then sprinted to the other base.

By this time Pilot had leaped forward and snatched up the ball, throwing it back to Captain.

"One run!" Captain announced. He tossed the ball from hand to hand. "This is no fun."

"I couldn't agree more," Engie grunted, walking back over.

"No sense of coordination!" Captain ranted. "Mr Snippy, it is your turn to bat."

Snippy picked up the bat and stood in front of the wicket. Captain bowled and he struck the ball. It flew through the air and shot straight into Photoshop's mouth. She appeared to swallow it, then belched.

"Does that count as unlimited runs?" Snippy asked, setting off for the base at a leisurely pace. He couldn't help shooting a smirk over at Engie.

"That's not fair," the engineer grumbled. "It's because he's British."

"Racism is not allowed in Captainia," Captain chided. "Team Ukulele wins!"

"Awww, not fair! We didn't get a turn!" Pilot complained from where he was prodding Photoshop in the stomach, trying to get her to bring up the ball.

Captain sighed heavily. He walked over to the wicket and knocked it over.

"This game bores me," he announced.

"It was your idea," Snippy couldn't help pointing out.

Captain looked over at him. "You ruined the game, Mr Snippy. You lost the ball. Be grateful zee Captain is not making you crawl into Photoshop to get it back."

Snippy gulped and wisely shut his mouth.

"What now, Captain?" Pilot inquired.

Captain rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We'll try a different game!" he announced, then raised a finger. "Ah-ha!"

They could all practically see an imaginary lightbulb appearing above his head.

"I have a fabulous idea," Captain said. "Follow me!"

They did.


"Um, what," was the first thing Snippy said.

Captain had led them to an empty hall, where he had proceeded to take off his coat and sit down cross-legged with his hands resting palm-up on his knees.

"Have a seat, minions," he droned monotonously. "Find yourselves a quiet space where you will not be distracted."

"Photoshop can't fit through the door!" Pilot said.

Captain flapped a hand. "Leave her."

They sat cross-legged in a circle.

"Close your eyes," Captain ordered. "I want you to get into The Zone."

"How is this sport?" Engie muttered. Snippy refused to close his eyes. He wouldn't put it past Captain to do something to him while he wasn't looking.

"Shhh, Mr Engie. You are ruining The Zone," Captain hissed. "The sport aspect will come later. This is important. You must calm that busy, busy mind of yours!"

"Pfah," Engie stated, but fell silent.

"All together now. Ommmmmm! I want you to feel it in your diaphragm!" Captain breathed in and out noisily, "Ommmmm! Breathe in, breathe out. Ommmmm!"

"Ommmmm!" Pilot repeated dutifully, a semitone higher.

"Again!" Captain continued his deep breathing, sounding like a bad impersonation of Darth Vader. "Ommmmmm! Mr Snippy, why are you not omm-ing?"

Snippy gave a half-hearted: "Ommmm." His was rather deeper than the other two.

This fascinated Captain.

"Wait, stop!" he announced, holding up a hand. "Snippy, then Pilot."

Deep Ommmmmm.

High Ommmmmm.

"Yes! It is so musical. We shall do a tune. Ommmmmm. Pilot!"


One rather fail rendition of 'Humpty Dumpty' later, Pilot wavered mid-Omm and tapered off.

"Captain, my diaphragm hurts," he complained.

Captain nodded. "We have finished our mediation. Now for the stretches. Wake up, Mr Engie!" he threw his mug at Engie, hitting him on the head.

"Ahh- what?" Engie jerked awake, having drifted off some time during the Omm-ing session.

"We are doing yoga. Get up." Captain stood. "I want everyone in downward dog!"

Snippy shook his head. "I'm not sticking my backside in the air," he said emphatically.

"For your insolence, Mr Snippy, I want you to do forward rolls across the length of the room."

"Forward rolls?" Snippy asked incredulously. "That's gymnastics, not yoga!"

"Across the length of the room and back."

While Snippy moved off to complete his punishment, Engie stood wondering which would be more humiliating – the yoga or the forward rolls. One shrivelling glare from Captain quickly ended his indecision.

"This is degrading," the engineer muttered as he and Pilot assumed the position. Captain strutted back and forth in front of them.

"Shift to upward dog! Now eagle pose! Now bend down until your nose touches your knees. Remember, if it doesn't hurt, you're not doing it right! Camel pose! Half-tortoise! Blowing in firm pose!"

"Blowing?" Engie exclaimed incredulously.

Snippy had paused in his rolling to watch them in fascination. Engie had practically tied himself in knots by now. As for Pilot... how did the human body even bend that way?

"Mr Snippy, get back to your punishment, or you'll be doing both backward rolls and sausage rolls for the rest of the day," Captain said sternly. "Mr Engie, that camel looks more like a mutilated moose."

"Am I doing it right, Captain?" Pilot cried, from where he was balanced precariously on his head.

"Excellent, my Pilot!"

Pilot was so happy that he overbalanced and fell over.

"Mr Engie, attempt a hand-stand," Captain ordered.

With a grimace, Engie attempted, but did not succeed.

"Ow," he groaned as he landed heavily on his back. "I think I've sprained something."

"Maybe you should stretch a bit to un-sprain it," Captain suggested gleefully, but Engie just shook his head and hobbled to the side of the room, bent over and rubbing his back.

"The yoga turned Engie into an old man," Pilot said worriedly. "He is now a granny slipper."

"Dee eight!" Captain exclaimed.

They all stared at him.

"Excuse me?" Engie asked.

"Dee eight! D8! It is a distressed face...? No, my silly minions, they are not multilingual. You do not speak the glorious language of emoticon." Captain shook his head disappointedly. "In any case, I have grown bored of this activity. Bring me my mug, Pilot."

Pilot obeyed, and Captain stood for a few minutes sipping at his tea.

Snippy furtively crawled the last few metres instead of forward-rolling.

"No, this activity was not fun at all," Captain mused aloud. "As with the cricket, Mr Snippy killed it with his disobedience."

Snippy just rolled his eyes, unable to be bothered protesting the fact that he hadn't done anything. It wouldn't do any good.

"We will continue our active sports program tomorrow," Captain declared, and strode out, Pilot trotting along after him.

"That was insanely awful," Engie grumbled as Snippy helped him to his feet.

The sniper sighed and shook his head.

"I have a feeling it's about to get worse."


"How did I guess," Snippy said flatly upon Captain announcing what they would be doing today.

"Oh! Oh! I want to throw the balls," Pilot cried, jumping up and down.

Captain waved a hand benevolently. "Of course you may, Pilot. It would be unfair for Snippy to throw them, as he is a sniper and as such is trained in aiming at moving targets."

"Thanks, I think," Snippy murmured.

"And as we have already seen during our cricket match, Mr Engie is unable to hit a target at all," Captain continued, oblivious to the engineer's death glare. "So he is out of the question. You and I shall throw the balls and Mr Snippy and Mr Engie will try to dodge them. If they get hit three times, they are out."

"Delightful," Engie said drily.

"Let us begin!" Captain declared. They were standing on a tennis court, the concrete flooring cracked and littered with rubbish, and a twisted, broken fence surrounding it on three sides. Captain had acquired an accumulation of balls from somewhere – basketballs, soccer-balls, rugby balls... and, Snippy was alarmed to see, shot-puts.

He and Engie exchanged unamused looks before standing in the middle of the court. Captain and Pilot stood on either side and each picked up a ball.

"Start!" Captain hollered, and they began to pelt the balls at the two.

At first it was quite easy to dodge, as there weren't more than two balls being thrown at one time... then Pilot somehow perfected the technique of throwing a ball hard enough to have it bounce off the opposite fence and fly back towards him.

Still, Snippy was used to dodging flying objects. He could hear Engie grunting and swearing beside him, but he himself managed to gracefully duck or sidestep everything that flew his way.

It was almost fun.

Until a shot-put hit him on the back of the head and knocked him out cold.

He came to to find the other three towering over him. Pilot was holding a soccer ball and the checkered pattern was reflected in his goggles. It was almost surreal.

"Bwah," Snippy said, sitting up. He winced and rubbed his head.

"Take it easy," Engie suggested. "You might have a concussion."

"I feel fine," Snippy told him.

In a rare moment of generosity, Captain offered him a hand and helped him to his feet.

"Engie won this round," the captain informed him. "You were hit with three balls after falling over."

"Right," Snippy said drily.

"But thanks to you and your inability to dodge, this game is now a health and safety hazard." Captain lightly whacked him on the shoulder. "Shame on you, Mr Snippy! You have ruined three sports now!"

"I still don't see how I ruined the yoga-"

"Do not talk back to zee Captain," Captain chided. "I will have to think of another exercise. You are lucky I am a creative Captain."

"So very lucky," Snippy muttered.

"I have an idea!" Pilot piped up.

"Yes, Pilot?" Captain asked.

Pilot held up a football. "Let's play with this one!" he suggested. "It's a funny shape!"

"Yeeeees," Captain agreed, his goggles seeming to glint ominously. "Most excellent idea, Pilot. I know just the game."


"Let's just be glad it's not tackle football," Engie muttered to Snippy as they stood in a field of dead grass. Two boundaries had been set up with fluorescent cones on either side of the field.

"I shall be participating in this game," Captain said grandly, as though this were some great privilege. "But I feel that Mr Engie and Mr Snippy have been on the same team for too long. For this game, I shall be teamed with Mr Snippy, and Engie shall go with Pilot."

Pilot let out a shriek of despair.

"But Captain! Why do you have to go with that slug?" he wailed. "Can't I go with you?"

"No, Pilot," Captain said kindly, "You must not hoard my awesomeness for yourself. The Captain must be shared amongst all minions."

"I don't mind swapping with Pilot," Snippy put forward.

Captain turned a glare on him. "Are you rejecting my awesomeness, Mr Snippy?"

"...no," Snippy said, deciding he was more scared of Captain's wrath than Pilot trying to exact revenge on him later.

"Good. Then let me explain the rules," Captain announced. He held up a football. "The aim of the game is to run across the field and put the ball down at the opposing team's boundary. If a member of the other team touches you, you must perform a roll-ball, where you put the ball on the floor and kick it backwards for another player to pick up.

"You can only pass the ball backwards," he continued, "So if you wish to throw the ball to me, Snippy, I must be behind you."

They all nodded to show that they understood.

Captain clapped his hands together. "Good!" he declared. "Let us begin."

They began. Captain's team had the ball first, and Captain charged madly across the field. He ducked under Pilot's flailing arms and touched the ball down at the opposite end of the field.

"One point to TEAM CAPTAIN," Captain announced happily. "Come on, Team Pilot – put more effort into it!"

"How come it's 'Team Pilot'?" Engie grumbled. "Why not 'Team Gromov'?"

Pilot flapped his hands in Engie's face. "Go away, Engie," he said childishly. "I don't want you on my team."

"No fighting," Captain chided. "Because we won that round, we will start with the ball. Snippy, it is your turn."

He handed Snippy the ball and indicated for him to run.

"Um," Snippy said, and started sprinting.

Pilot and Engie ran towards him, and he dodged sideways. Pilot tackled him, sending them both crashing to the floor.

"Oof!" Snippy huffed. He pushed Pilot off him and scrambled to his feet. "Foul! You're meant to touch, not tackle."

"Tackling is touching," Pilot countered. He picked up the ball, running towards the boundary.

Captain swooped out of nowhere and tapped him on the shoulder.

Pilot offered him the ball, and Captain shook his head.

"No, you have to kick it," he ordered.

Pilot drop-kicked the football and it soared through the air. Snippy and Engie watched in awe as it flew up, up, up... and vanished into the distance.

Captain let out a tut of annoyance.

"You were meant to kick it gently backwards," he snapped.

Pilot drooped. "Sorry Captain!" he cried. "Shall I go fetch it back?"

"No, it's gone for good. I am sick of this game," he added a touch petulantly. "All three of you are simply hopeless at sport. You do not understand zee rules, you do not play properly... you are all equally the biggest loser!"

Pilot sniffled.

Snippy and Engie were silent. Even when the situation was this ridiculous, it was never fun being reprimanded by Captain.

Captain finally shook his head. "We are going to try something new," he said, and they followed him quietly.


"I don't think this is safe," Engie said.

Snippy scoffed. "When is anything we ever do remotely safe?" he pointed out.

Captain had handed each of them a long stick and declared they were pole vaulting. Snippy looked up at the twelve-foot long rod he held – it was twice as tall as he was – and jabbed it at the ground a few times.

"Captain, it doesn't bend," he said. "You can't pole-vault with a non-bendy stick."

"I think mine bends a bit too much." Engie was flexing the plastic stick he held between his hands.

It snapped.


Captain threw down his mug in disgust. "You have ruined the activity before we even began!" he scolded. "Pick up my mug for me. If it is broken I will be most unimpressed."

Snippy picked it up. The tea that had spilled out was bubbling ominously.

There was a sudden loud cry of "Wheeeeeeee!" and they turned in time to see Pilot launching himself up off his pole. He flew through the air, for a moment looking surprisingly graceful, then began to flap his arms frantically before finally landing with a splash in the nearby bay.

"Oh my God," said Engie, and went to help him out.

Captain came up next to Snippy and used his head as an arm rest. He appeared to be deep in thought. Snippy stood still and tried not to fidget, not wanting to tick him off any more than he already was.

"Eureka," cried Captain suddenly, just as Engie returned with a dripping Pilot. "I have received the most glorious illumination."

"What?" Snippy asked.

Captain clapped his hands together delightedly.

"I shall invent my own game!" he said cheerfully.

Be very afraid, Snippy thought.


"So what exactly are the rules of 'Captain ball'?" Snippy questioned.

He was already confused, and they hadn't even started. The court of this game was the rooftop of a building. Whatever this game was, it involved hula hoops, a tangled skipping rope, foam swimming noodles, and three soccer balls.

"I make them up as I go along!" Captain said gleefully. "The game starts now!"

"What?" Snippy yelped.

Pilot waved his noodle and hit Engie on the back of the head.

"One point to Pilot!" Captain said.

Snippy whacked Engie with his noodle, and Captain let out a loud honking noise.

"Brrrp! Minus one point for Mr Snippy! You're not allowed to hit other contestants!"

"Ehh? But Pilot just-"

Captain began hula-hooping. Pilot quickly followed suit. Engie and Snippy exchanged glances and attempted to as well, but neither of them could move the hoop properly.

"Ten points to Captain for being awesome!" Captain announced. "Pilot, you can have two points for effort. Minus three points for Snippy for failing with the hoop."

Snippy gave up and sat down.

"Three points to Snippy for sitting down!" Captain said.

Engie threw his hoop off the rooftop.

"This is so stupid," he said. "Why is it even called 'Captain ball' if we're not using balls?"

"You wish to use the ball?" Captain picked up the soccer ball and threw it at Engie, knocking him backwards.

"Goal for Captain!" Captain said. He laughed to himself. "Yes, this is the most wonderful game. Mr Snippy, get up, if you sit for longer than ten seconds you will lose points."

Snippy wearily hauled himself to his feet.

"How much longer will this insanity last?" Engie groaned.

Snippy looked over at Captain. He and Pilot were throwing a ball back and forth to each other, Captain calling out new scores every now and then.

"It will never end," he said gloomily, and the two of them exchanged hopeless glances.

"It will never end."

Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. GO FORTH AND BE BRUTALLY HONEST.

A/N: Super disappointed with this chapter, actually xD Hopefully the next thing I write will be less... stilted and lame. *dies*

Thanks for reading xD