Invictus

[Captain Canada]

Season III | Chapter IX: Highest 2 Lowest

"Good evening from the chilly hills of Western Pennsylvania, folks, and welcome to a regional heavyweight clash here at Upper St. Clair High School. I'm Mike Callahan alongside former state champion quarterback Tony Rinaldi, and we've got an undefeated Upper St. Clair squad hosting a bruising St. Cathedral High School team that came here to hit somebody upside the head."

"You better believe it Mike. St. Cathedral's defence is built on one thing - bully ball. Press-man coverage, corners in jersey, safeties rolling late, and they blitz from everywhere. They don't just want to stop you, they want to punish you. A quarterback's worst nightmare."

"And that's a real test tonight for the Panthers' nucleus of rising stars - including newly-minted three-star wide receiver Zane Jones. He's been the talk of the state this week after that rating bump from ESPN, but St. Cathedral doesn't care about stars. They care about leverage and violence."

"It almost feels as though Jones and quarterback Malik Richards haven't exactly gotten on the same page yet despite their gaudy stats through three games, Mike. It's almost as if they are performing in spite of one another. A really strange occurrence for a team with such talent at positions that are completely reliant on one another to be successful."

"You're absolutely right, Tony. Richards has been dependent on the run game and receiver Cam Wilson out of the slot for the quick game. But tonight, Zane Jones' usage is going to be big for this Upper St. Clair offence."

***

"Richards in the shotgun, trips right, Jones isolated to the boundary. St. Cathedral is loading the line of scrimmage once again - no surprise there"

"Quick slant - caught by Jones! And he's wrapped up immediately after a gain of six."

"That's the book tonight, get the ball out fast. That pass rush is coming, and Richards knows who his security blanket is."

"Or at least who it should be. Jones leads every receiving category for the Panthers except for targets, which feels ... odd."

~~~

Each time, Zane absorbed the contact the moment the ball touched his hands. Each time, he popped back up, handed the ball to the official, and jogged back to the huddle. It almost felt so odd; being so engaged in the game from the jump. He didn't know what flipped the switch with Malik, but he was gracious that it had been flipped.

Upper St. Clair's drive stalled at the 28-yard line and Zane saw Coach Shazier from the sideline, shuffling the field goal unit onto the field. In return, Zane slowly made his way off. He peeked up the scoreboard, greeting it was a disappointing shake of his head.

The scoreboard read: Upper St. Clair - 6, St. Cathedral - 0.

***

"St. Cathedral driving for the first time with rhythm, Quarterback under pressure - throws over the middle - PICKED OFF!"

"Abdul Al-Rahim! He stepped right in front of that dig route and snatched that thing away!"

The crowd erupted, cowbells and air horns echoing off the bleachers.

On the very next series, Zane split wide left.

He exploded off the line, seeing that St. Cathedral has rolled into a single-high safety look - the strong safety creeping down into alignment into the box. Zane snapped it vertical, the dropping linebacker unable to catch up.

For a heartbeat, he was alone - nothing but green turf and the end zone ahead.

Malik hitched. Looked. Almost as if the two could lock eyes.

He looked away.

The pocket collapsed.

"Sacked. He had Jones wide-open for six and didn't pull the trigger."

"That's a quarterback seeing ghosts. Very uncharacteristic for a quarterback with the poise of Malik Richards."
~~~
Zane's voice carried even to the announcers booth, arms flailing, pointing back toward the field, toward the line, toward Malik.

"You too busy pissing down your fucking leg to throw me the fucking ball, what the fuck was that?" Zane bellowed, helmet discarded on the ground next to him where he had slammed it.

"I'll make it really fucking simple for you: make the read, throw the fucking ball!"

Teammates tried to stepped between them. Malik stated at the ground, jaw tight, arms folded into one each other.

Zane shoved one teammate off of him and got into Malik's space. He lowered his voice to a decibel that only the two of them could hear.

"I don't know what kind of vendetta you have against me to intentionally throw fucking football games, but that bitch better be worth it, you fucking coward."

Malik met his eyes instantly, fire behind his gaze.

"You have no fucking clue what you're talking about, nigga. Fuck out of my face." Malik's foot began tapping, as if trying to work the aggression building in his chest out of him.

Zane shook his head, grabbed his helmet, and stalked off.

This was never going to work. He knew that now.

***

St. Cathedral took over near midfield. Another blown assignment by the Panthers' defense. They had been mismatched throughout the second quarter after their scheme had been picked apart. Their hot start was now dead cold.

Missed tackles.
Late rotations
A corner slipping on a comeback route that turned into six.

"Another score for St. Cathedral. This is turning on Upper St. Clair fast."

The score flipped to 24-6.

Upper St. Clair's offense, rattled, went three-and-out.

Zane stood alone near the numbers, hands on his hips, staring out at the turf. He was running cardio now. He was either being looked off, explained away by a vindictive quarterback and a flippant offense or being swarmed by a ruthless defense - double-teaming him all the way down the field.

The tunnel swallowed the Panthers as the band took the field, the cold night settling over a stadium that had gone suddenly, uneasily quiet.
~~~
Zane sat on the bench next to Abdul as the Panthers kicked off to St. Cathedral to start things off. His aura was off - the vapour of his first-half melt down still radiating off his body.

"You good, brother?" Abdul said, not quite looking over. His braids were slicked tight to his head from his sweat, his demeanor disheveled after a half of running down streaking receivers from the opposite side of the field had left him worn and battered.

"It's bullshit, man," Zane huffed, watching his breath leave his lungs into the chilly Pittsburgh air. "I feel like I'm running for no reason. I can't buy a target, let alone a catch."

"Shit, at that rate, pull up to defense. I know your receiver ass gotta be better than whatever the fuck Luke doing over on the field side."

Zane stared into space for a moment, before shrugging at the suggestion. The referee's whistle signalled the end of kickoff, as St. Cathedral fielded the ball out to their own 22-yard-line. As Abdul got up, Zane followed him. Abdul gave him a look of bewilderment.

"Nigga, I was joking."

"Yeah, but I'm not. They don't want to use me on offense, fuck it," he tugged his helmet over his locs, seeing out his peripheral view Luke walking up behind him. He raised a hand and reached out, pushing Luke lightly in the chest. The sophomore looked up from tightening his helmet straps, puzzled.

"Sit one out, lil' bro. Let me get active."

The defense, now joined by Zane, jogged out of the field. Coach Shazier started barking adjustments before he noticed the personnel adjustment. He sprinted over to his defensive coordinator, holding a hand around his headset's microphone before screaming.

"What the fuck is Jones doing out there? What the fuck is going on?" he scrambled. He looked out and locked eyes with Zane, who simply greeted him with a thumbs up and a light shrug.

"Just feed me the call, and I'll figure everything else out, alright?" Zane bellowed to the MIKE linebacker, Russell, who gave his a puzzled look himself.

"Good to have you over on the dark side, brother. Let's get going."

~~~

"Do my eyes deceive me or is that Zane Jones joining the defence to start things off here in the second half?"

[redsox907]

you gonna turn this boy into a corner!?

[Soapy]

get ready to learn bail coverage

[Captain Canada]

you gonna turn this boy into a corner!?

get ready to learn bail coverage

No faith in my boy's backpedal

[Caesar]

That man got bullied out of his position. Sad times

[Captain Canada]

That man got bullied out of his position. Sad times

My boy just over here trying to prove a point. Y'all stay on my boy's bumper

[ShireNiner]

You know what they say about DBs? They were just shit receivers.

[Captain Canada]

Season III | Chapter X: Say My Name

Luke stood on the sideline, helmet off, eyes wide as Zane slide into position opposite St. Cathedral's speedster - a wiry receiver who had spent the first half turning Luke into a traffic cone. The cornerback coach came running to his side, chewing him out for why he wasn't out on the field. All he could do was point out to the field at Zane.

The St. Cathedral quarterback did a visible double take.

He stepped toward the line, clapping his hands and barking an audible, clearly signalling the target.

Zane crouched, taking one extra step off the line, already prepping his backpedal.

The ball was snapped.

The receiver exploded vertically, shading towards the inside ever so slightly. Zane opened into a smooth backpedal, hips loose, eyes locked on his hips, trying not to raise too high to anywhere he could be swayed in the wrong direction.

The receiver planted and broke toward the post. Zane flipped.

Inside shade. Stride for stride.

He felt the route before he saw the ball - instinct pulling him across the receiver's face. He turned.

The pass descended out of the lights. Zane's hand shot up at the last possible instant.

Smack.

The ball ricocheted to the turf. The stadium detonated. Russell sprinted over and smashed helmets with him.

"Let's fucking go, rec!" Russell roared, grabbing his facemask before turning back towards the defensive coordinator, already ready to receive the next play.

For the first time all night, the Panthers' sideline had felt alive. Zane stayed on the field for the rest of the drive, flying downhill for a cleanup tackle, forcing the receiver out of bounds on a screen, finishing with a gang tackle that forced a punt.

~~~

He barely reached the sideline before a hand clamped onto his shoulder pads.

Coach Shazier.

"I don't know who the fuck you think you are," he snapped, pulling Zane aside, voice low and furious. "You don't make personnel decisions. Selfish ass decision."

Zane's jaw tightened. "Selfish is running routes all night and not getting the ball when I'm clear as day fucking open."

"This isn't about you-"

"It is when our quarterback is looking me off on purpose," Zane shot back. "Come on, Coach. There's no way you don't see it at this point."

Shazier huffed, eyes narrowing.

Zane forced himself to take a breath. "Look, I know I was wrong. I shouldn't have gone out on defence. I'll take Luke myself it was the wrong thing to do. But fuck Coach, Malik is making me useless out there. At least I'm able to do some shit on defence."

The coach held his stare for a long second.

"You're sitting," Shazier finally said. "You're out for this series. This is a team game, Zane."

~~~

Helmet off, Zane stood behind the white stripe, anger simmering.

Malik took the field with his offence. He had thoroughly outmaneuvered Zane. Cost him a precious series.

First play - quick out route that hit Cam straight in the number as he scampered out of bounds.

Second play - play-action. Malik stepped up into the pocket and fired over the middle like it was a game of Madden. Cam had split the safeties.

Touchdown.

The crowd roared. Zane clapped with the rest of the team, but the feeling sat heavy in his chest - pride for Cam, frustration for himself.

When he returned on offence, nothing changed.

Slant, he was looked off. Go route, checked down to Kwon out of the backfield. Comeback, ball sailed over Cam's head out of bounds.

By the fourth quarter, Zane's routes lost their edge. He ran them, but at this point, not with any violent intent. Just movement with no real obligation.

Midway through the quarter, he released on a deep outside stem. He was at, maybe 80%.

Then the crowd rose.

A different sound - sharp, urgent.

Zane glanced back. The ball was in the air.

Toward him. For a split second, he froze in disbelief. Then he hit another gear that no one on the team could hit like he could.

He tracked it over his shoulder, the safety closing, the sideline shrinking.

He dove with full extension.

The ball kissed his gloves and tried to escape. He pinned it to his chest as he hit the turf, sliding across the painted numbers. The ball hit his gut, knocking every ounce of oxygen in his body out of him.

At first, silence. Then an explosion. The referee running over, signalling a completion.

Teammates swarmed him. Two plays later, Kwon punched it in from the five-yard-line.

Finally, a lead. One they never gave back.

The final whistle brought another storm of noise - students flooding the railings, teammates jumping into one another's arms. Another cardiac win.

Zane knew they had to stop winning like this, but somehow, here they were again.

He walked off slower than the rest, helmet dangling from one hand, lungs still burning, stomach probably bruised from his big catch.

"Jones," a voice called from behind him.

Coach Shazier.

"I see your point and I'll handle what goes on going forward," he said quietly. "We're going to fit it, but we're going to fix it my way."

Zane nodded, seeing the intention behind his eyes. However, a seed of doubt lingered. His biggest play had come when he stopped expecting the ball. Almost like it was intentional.

He turned toward the tunnel.

"Zane?"

A man in a navy coat stood near the railing.

"Roger Donaldson," he said, extending a hand to shake, which Zane fumbled to take. "Michigan."

Zane froze.

"That was one hell of a catch," Donaldson continued. "Wish I'd seen more of what you can do on offence tonight, but you are certainly a talent. You'll be hearing from us."

He slipped a business card into Zane's hand and disappeared into the crowd almost as quickly as he had emerged out of it.

Zane stared down at the block "M" printed in maize.

He pocketed it, took a breath, and finished his journey to the tunnel.

***

Bianca closed her laptop slowly, the glow of the paused highlight still burned into her eyes - the moment Zane laid out for the ball, fingertips grazing leather before he crashed to the turf. She felt it in her own bones, with relief washing over her as he sprung up after a second.

She could still hear the crowd through her speakers, that delayed roar that made her chest swell even from miles away.

He would be annoyed, she knew without a doubt. He always measured himself against what could have been, not what he had done. But, she also knew he would call. And lately, those calls found a rhythm - late nights, shared silences, the comfort of knowing the other was still there.

A knock at the door snapped her out of it.

She opened it to find Katie leaning against the frame, smothered in a giant brown sweater, holding up a bottle of wine like a peace offering.

"There she is," Katie said. "The elusive Bianca. I was starting to think you'd transferred to a monastery."

Bianca's stomach tightened, trying not to affect the sheepish smile on her face. She hadn't been too proud to admit it, but she had been dodging her - cancelled coffee dates, vague replies, sudden "study sessions."

"Can I come in?" Katie asked, softer now.

Bianca stepped aside.

Katie flopped onto the bed, setting the bottle on the desk. "You've been super MIA. I figured either you're drowning in Econ or mad at me."

Bianca closed the door and leaned against it, weighing her words. Her pulse ticked in her throat.

"I won't lie, Katie - I didn't love the cocaine thing," she said finally. "That night - and I don't fully blame you - but I didn't feel like me. And I don't like who I was trying to be."

Katie blinked, surprised by the directness.

She shrugged, not defensive - just casual. "I get it. But you're allowed to let loose sometimes. You literally sprint, study, and sit in here waiting for your boyfriend to call. That's kind of fucking lame."

Bianca stiffened. "It's not like that."

Katie tilted her head. "It's absolutely like that. Meanwhile, Mr. Football over there is probably out there, punching dick into girls left, right, and cen-"

"No," Bianca cut in, sharper than she meant. "That's my man. He's not like that.:

The room went quiet for a moment.

Katie held up her hands. "Okay, I'm sorry. That was unfair, I shouldn't trash your relationship. It's not fair for me to put the football guy stereotype on your man." She paused. "I just don't want you to feel like your entire college experience is happening through a phone screen."

Bianca's shoulders loosened a fraction. The anxiety that had been coiled tight in her chest for days began to ease.

"I just don't want to perform in a way I know I'll regret," Bianca admitted. "I also don't want to lose our friendship."

"Oh god, that's not even at risk, sweetie," Katie said. "One night of wine and a bad movie isn't going to rewrite your DNA. No more coke. Scout's honor."

That earned the smallest laugh.

Katie grabbed the bottle and waggled it. "Peace offering. We stay in. We drink. We watch something cheesy like Love is Blind, where we watch idiots pretend like they found forever in a room after 20 minutes."

Bianca hesitated - then nodded.

"Okay," she said. "I can do that."

Katie beamed. "Balance is a beautiful thing, my friend."

As Bianca queued up Netflix and found two mismatched mugs for the wine, she felt something settle inside her.

Her phone buzzed on the desk.

Zane's name lit the screen.

Bianca smiled.

[redsox907]

I don't like this Katie chick.

Malik definitely intended him to fail on that play as evidence he ain't shit

[ShireNiner]

Zane was taught a lesson. Someone is always watching so go hard young man.

Katie def about to Netflix and chill with Bianca. Malik paying her to make Zane's girl cheat.