Invictus

[Captain Canada]

Cam got hit with the lil brother act

white boy QB committed to ND eh sounds familiar

Darius going to talk to Sheed same time Zane is eh. They gonna bond and be blood brothers now, forged in fire

Malik* Had to give them a sprinkle of the degenerate. Cam going to lose his mind if he keeps having to play second fiddle to Zane

Malik and Zane about to be BFF’s right before Zane finds out Katie’s been getting it from the new boy.

Bianca* (you good, you're new to this story), Darius ain't no threat

Zane and Brice would be a movie

Catching hospital balls because his QB is taking 14-step drops is not in my boy's future, sir.

[redsox907]

how tf I type Darius and not Malik

my b fam

[Soapy]

Catching hospital balls because his QB is taking 14-step drops is not in my boy's future, sir.

hope ryan clark is in your near future fn

[Caesar]

Zane and Brice would be a movie

Brice would probably try to get Poor Little Rich Girl raped when Zane drops a mundane first down pass in a 0-0 game in the first quarter on the first drive of the game.

Ain't Zane and Poor Little Rich Girl an "I love you" couple? Darius cracking.

[djp73]

Interesting twist between Zane and Malik

[Soapy]

Brice would probably try to get Poor Little Rich Girl raped when Zane drops a mundane first down pass in a 0-0 game in the first quarter on the first drive of the game.

defamation

libel

slander

[Captain Canada]

how tf I type Darius and not Malik

my b fam

All good brudda, we all slip up

Catching hospital balls because his QB is taking 14-step drops is not in my boy's future, sir.

hope ryan clark is in your near future fn

Slanderous

Zane and Brice would be a movie

Brice would probably try to get Poor Little Rich Girl raped when Zane drops a mundane first down pass in a 0-0 game in the first quarter on the first drive of the game.

Ain't Zane and Poor Little Rich Girl an "I love you" couple? Darius cracking.

Goddamn

Bianca ain't as "friendly" as Mireya, my good brother

Interesting twist between Zane and Malik

We just getting started

[Captain Canada]

Season III | Chapter XIII - Wash It All Away

The communal room buzzed with the dull energy of a Friday afternoon inside concrete walls.

A mounted television in the corner played NFL highlights on a loop. The anchor's voice carried across the room as footage rolled against of the Pittsburgh Steelers getting bullied the night before by the Cincinnati Bengals.

Rasheed sat at the metal table beneath it, arms folded, staring at the screen but not really watching.

To his left sat Butter - skinny, jittery even when he was still, with hollow cheeks that told the story of too many years chasing the wrong things. Recovering meth addict. Five-year bid for possession with intent to redistribute. Rasheed figured it was better not to ask how he got the nickname Butter.

To his right sat Khalid, calm and deliberate as always, his beard neatly combed, posture straight despite the prison-issue chair. He had gotten caught running vacuum-sealed bricks of cocaine across state lines. Sad he had made it years before someone finally caught him.

Rasheed glanced at them both and thought the same thing he often did.

Not the best men. But in here? Some of the best men he had come across. You kept those close to you. Makes it easier.

They minded their business. Kept their heads down. Didn't go looking for trouble.

Butter leaned forward, pointing at the TV as another replay showed a blown coverage.

"I'm telling you," he said, shaking his head. "Worst pickup they could've made. Bringing in Aaron Rodgers at his age? I don't know what Tomlin was thinking not sticking it out with Justin Fields."

Khalid scoffed softly.

"You see Fields with the Jets now? Bottom of the standings. That team is horrific."

Butter waved him off immediately. "Man, its the Jets. You could put Tom Brady under center and they would still find a day to lose."

Khalid chuckled.

Rasheed couldn't help it - he laughed too.

"Man's got a point," Rasheed said, nodding toward Butter. "That franchise sold its soul to the Devil."

Butter slapped the table triumphantly. "See? Rasheed knows what's good."

They went back and forth like that for a while, breaking down the game like three guys at a bar instead of three inmates killing time in a prison dayroom.

For a few minutes, it almost felt normal. Then a shadow fell across the table.

Rasheed looked up.

A correctional officer stood there, resting a hand lightly on Rasheed's shoulder for a moment.

"Jones, you've got visitation."

Rasheed frowned. "Visitation?"

The officer nodded. "Yeah, let's go."

Rasheed pushed his chair back slowly, nodding pleasantries to Butter and Khalid as he moved with the officer.

Zane wasn't supposed to come today. He had a road trip coming up - he could have sworn Mary had told him the team bus was leaving sometime today. May rarely came herself unless she brought Zane with her.

Or his father. Rasheed dismissed the thought immediately.

Felix wouldn't come alone. He had abandoned that hope years ago.

Rasheed followed the officer down the quiet hallway, the sounds of the communal room fading behind him. The buzz of fluorescent lights took over, humming overhead as they walked.

They reached the visitation room. The officer opened the door.

"Five minutes," he said.

Rasheed stepped inside. His eyes scanned the room automatically - families sitting across from inmates, quiet conversations, hands pressed against tables.

Then he saw him. And for a moment, Rasheed felt like the air had been ripped out of his lungs.

There he was, sitting - stiff in the chair, clearly uncomfortable - a face he hadn't seen in years. Only in his nightmares.

***

Malik sat stiffly in the plastic chair, hands folded together on the metal table, trying to steady the rhythm of his breathing.

The visitation room was quieter than he expected. Low murmurs. Chairs scraping every so often. The dull buzz of fluorescent lights overhead.

He watched as the guard escorted Rasheed Jones into the room.

For years, Malik had pictured this man in a hundred different ways. Bigger. Meaner. More menacing. Some kind of monster you felt before you saw when he was into a room.

Instead, Rasheed just looked tired. Weathered.

Older than Malik expected. Broad-shouldered still, but worn down in the way that time carved into men who had nowhere to run from it. Like the boulders that was slowly worn away by the relentless tide.

The officer gave Rasheed a small nod toward Malik. He approached slowly, eyes narrowing as he studied the young man sitting across from him.

When he reached the table, he stopped.

"You who I think you are?" Rasheed asked quietly.

Malik nodded once. "I figured you would put that together, I doubt you get many visitors."

Rasheed pulled the chair down, plopped into it, and leaned back. Studying, assessing for a moment before speaking again.

"What do you want from me?"

Malik took a breath. He had rehearsed this in his head during the drive over, but now the words felt heavier. Foreign. Wrong.

"I've spent most of my life hating you," he said. Rasheed didn't react.

"I transferred to the same school as your son," Malik continued, forcing the words out. "I wanted to ruin him the only way I knew how. Out on the football field.:

Still nothing. The silence pressed on Malik's chest. Rasheed's calmness - his stillness - felt oddly intimidating. Like nothing could pierce him. Nothing could move through the numbness.

Malik swallowed. "I'm tired of carrying it," he admitted. "This weight. I need to know why you did it."

That finally drew a response. Rasheed tilted his head slightly, eyes piercing through Malik's defenses.

"How you do you know I'll tell you the truth? I'm a killer, aren't I?"

Malik shrugged faintly. "What do you really have to lose?"

Rasheed studied him for a long moment. The kind of look that tried to measure a man's intentions without asking.

Then he leaned forward slightly.

"What difference will it make?" Rasheed asked. "Me telling you my side about that night with Ronnie. What difference does it make now?"

Malik held his gaze.

"Maybe nothing, maybe everything. There's only one way to find out."

For a moment, Rasheed didn't move. Then he exhaled slowly and leaned back in the chair.

"Alright," he said. "The truth."

Malik sat up straighter.

Rasheed rubbed his palms together once, like he was warming them by an invisible fire.

"I knew Ronnie back in the day," he began. "Didn't run with him, not really. But you hear things in neighborhoods like ours."

He glanced down at the table as he spoke, like the memories were running on a reel in front of him in real time.

"Word was he had talent. Real athletic. Could've done something with it if life went different. But, by the time I really knew him, I'd heard that path already curved sideways."

Malik stayed quiet.

"We didn't move in the same circles," Rasheed continued. "But he was around. And he had a reputation. Tough dude. Not somebody you wanted to cross."

Rasheed's voice softened ever so slightly. "Truth be told, I saw a lot of myself in him." He leaned back in his chair.

"I want to play ball myself, that was my dream. I was damn good too. Good enough that people talked about it. But messing up my knee, a few wrong moves, life catching up with you when you ain't ready for it."

"And then Zane came along."

Malik watched his face carefully.

"I had him young," Rasheed said. "His mama left early, if you can believe it. My parents didn't really want to deal with the situation, but when it came down to it, they stepped up. Helped when and where they could,"

His expression shifted, something warm breaking through the hardened lines. "That boy. Purest soul you ever seen. When he was little, man. He must have thought the sun revolved around me."

Rasheed's voice dropped a notch. "And that made me realize I needed to get right." He looked Malik square in the eye.

"I left the game. Walked away from it. Took my piece and threw it in the river. Didn't want it around anymore."

Malik blinked.

Rasheed nodded slowly. "Got myself a job cleaning office buildings overnight. Mopping floors, wiping desks. It wasn't much. But it was honest."

He spread his hands slightly. "That was enough for me." Malik nodded slowly, absorbing it.

"One day, I ran into some old guys from high school. Not the ones still in the streets - these were dudes trying to get right too. They asked me to come out with them one night. Grab a drink. Catch up."

He smirked faintly. "I damn near said no. I had Zane. But, my Mom told me 'one night wasn't going to hurt', so I went."

Malik leaned forward slightly.

"So I went out," Rasheed said. "It was a good ass night too. Talking about the old days. The girls we used to chase. Dumb stuff young men talk about that I'm sure you and your boys still talk about now."

His jaw tightened. "Then your boy Ronnie showed up."

Malik's heart thudded once. "He came in with a couple of his boys." Rasheed said. "They was turnt up to eleven already. You could tell. Loud. Drunk. Just doing way too much."

He tapped a finger on the table.

"He recognized me right away. Crossed paths a handful of times before. Nothing too serious."

Rasheed looked at Malik again, almost causing him to squirm. "I'm sure you were too young to remember, but Ronnie had one hell of a mean streak when he had that liquor in him. I think the kids call it 'beer muscles' or something like that."

Malik found himself nodding, too young to confirm, but smart enough not to be able to deny.

"I told him I wasn't on that type of time, that I just wanted to enjoy my night with my boys, and go home. He kept trying to get me to drink with him . Said I was acting brand new, like an uppity nigga. Told me to get fucked up with him and the crew."

Malik watched him carefully. "That's when he got slick." Rasheed rubbed his thumb slowly against the table.

"He started talking crazy. Loud enough for everybody to hear. Saying I thought I was too good to drink with him now. I was some 'church-going negro' now."

Malik's stomach twisted.

"He got louder and louder," Rasheed continued. "Then he took his beer, slammed it on the fucking floor."

Rasheed's hand made a small downward motion. "Bottle shattered - there's beer everywhere. People started turning around. Whole place looking out way now."

Malik closed his eyes briefly, already knowing where the story was going.

"I stood up," Rasheed said. "Not to fight. Just to calm it down. I was trying to defuse it, but Ronnie stepped right into my face."

Rasheed leaned forward slightly as he spoke, unconsciously mirroring the moment. "He asked me if I wanted to get active. I kept backing up. Trying to give space. Trying to tell him it wasn't that serious."

Rasheed paused. "Then he swung."

Malik's eyes snapped open. "I ducked it," Rasheed said simply. "Wasn't the first time someone swung on me."

He shifted slightly in the chair.

"And when I came up, I pushed into him. Put my weight into him to move him back."

His eyes lowered.

"Beer still covered the floor. He lost his balance. He fell backward. Smoked his neck on the counter behind him." Rasheed's voice slowed. "Hit the back of his head on the floor."

Malik's eyes squeezed shut.

"He didn't move right away," Rasheed said quietly. "Then the blood started pooling under his head." Malik's breathing became shallow.

"His eyes rolled back," Rasheed continued. "And he started convulsing."

The words hung in the air like smoke. Malik felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. The image was too vivid, too real.

Across the table, Rasheed looked off into the distance again.

"I tried to plead self-defense," he said after a moment. "Tried to explain what happened like I just did now. But my record didn't help me none."

Malik slowly opened his eyes again.

"I had priors," Rasheed said. "Drug charges. Assaults. The judge looked at my file and decided the story had already been written."

He looked back up at Malik.

"My lawyer fought it. Damn hard, she fought too. Witnesses back that up." He paused. "Judge threw the book at me anyway. Wanted to make an example out of me 'on behalf of the community'." Rasheed used his fingers to make air quotes.

Rasheed held Malik's gaze now. "You know how hard it is," he asked quietly, "to be judged for the worst thing you've ever done?"

Malik felt his throat tighten. Slowly, he shook his head.

No.

Rasheed nodded slightly.

"I got sins to pay for," he said. "You do have every right to hate me. It might have been an accident, but someone died that night and you lost someone dear to you."

He spread his hands slightly once again. "Here I am, paying my debt to society." Malik blinked hard, trying to stead himself.

"I don't know if that changes the anger you feel," Rasheed continued. "Losing somebody like that, it stays with you."

He leaned back again. "But I've told you the God-honest truth. Do with that what you will."

Malik wiped quickly at the corner of one eye, embarrassed by the emotion but unable to stop it. For years, he had pictured something else entirely.

Cold-blooded murder.
Malice.
Executtion.

Not a drunken shove that ended a life.

Malik swallowed. "What do I do with all of this anger?" he asked quietly. Rasheed breathed in slowly through his nose, thinking.

"I don't think I can answer that for you," he said finally. "You can use it, turn it into some constructive. Work harder. Be better."

He shrugged slightly. "Or, you can try and let it go. But letting it fester? Letting it rot inside you?"

He shook his head. "That's poison. And poison only leads you down one path." He widened his arms, motioning to the surroundings around him.

Malik nodded slowly, absorbing the weight of it.

He pushed his chair back after a moment and stood. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For talking to me."

Rasheed nodded once.

Malik turned and started toward the exit.

"Malik," Malik stopped and looked back. Rasheed's expression had softened, eyes somewhat pleading. "i'm sorry for what it did to you and your family."

Malik didn't respond. He just listened.

"You're a good kid," Rasheed continued. Then he added gently. "But my son, he's a good kid too. Don't take this out on him anymore, he deserves much better than that."

Malik stood there for a beat.

Then he nodded and walked out.

[Caesar]

Rasheed ain't even no real stepper? No wonder Zane like he is.

[redsox907]

A mounted television in the corner played NFL highlights on a loop. The anchor's voice carried across the room as footage rolled against of the Pittsburgh Steelers getting bullied the night before by the Cincinnati Bengals.

foul.

So what we're getting it as Malik too stupid to do his own research? Just be mad as fuck, transfer schools to fuck with somebody else, and never bothered to get the d33ts?

Low IQ QB if you ask me