Invictus
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 7866
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Invictus
Cam has had a good season, but he ain't on that level just yet and it's driving him up the wall.
Zane just want a little bit of peace, brudda.
Soapy wrote: ↑07 Apr 2026, 07:15this is the way.Captain Canada wrote: ↑06 Apr 2026, 09:18Appreciate it bro. I'm definitely trying to marry the in-game action with the story aspect more.
Not every protagonist gotta respond to adversity with violence or sticking they member in it, my boy
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Soapy
- Posts: 16600
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
Invictus
speak on itCaptain Canada wrote: ↑07 Apr 2026, 09:27Not every protagonist gotta respond to adversity with violence or sticking they member in it, my boy
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 7866
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Invictus
Season IV | Chapter IV - For All The Marbles, Part I
The cold hit sharp the moment Bianca adjusted her stance on the aluminum bleachers, the chill seeping through even the thick layers she had on. Snowflakes drifted steadily from the sky, catching in her hair and melting against the wool of the scarf wrapped around her neck. The field below was dusted in white - not enough to cover the green, but just enough to make every yard line look blurred, like the whole night had been softened at the edges.
She pulled the sleeves of Zane’s varsity jacket down over her hands, tucking her fingers inside for warmth. The red letting - Jones - stretched across her back, bold against the black leather. Underneath, the familiar navy USC track sweater peeked through, the fabric worn in just the right way from last season.
Next to her, Mary stood with her phone already up, recording before anything had even started.
“I’m not missing a second of this,” Mary said, her voice bright despite the cold. “Rasheed’s gonna want to see all of it.”
Bianca smiled, glancing over. “You’re really gonna show him everything?”
Mary nodded without hesitation. “Every snap I can get. I’ll bring it tomorrow.” She steadied her phone, zooming in toward the sideline. “He should be here for this.”
Bianca’s smile lingered, but it tightened just slightly at the edges. She shifted her weight, eyes flicking down to the field where players were beginning to gather near the tunnel.
Mary lowered her phone just enough to look at her. “What’s wrong, baby?”
Bianca shook her head quickly. “Nothing, I’m good.”
Mary gave her a look that said she didn’t believe that for a second.
Bianca exhaled, her breath visible in the cold air. “I just know how much he wants this.”
Mary’s expression softened. She reached over, squeezing Bianca’s arm through the thick jacket. “That boy wants it bad. But, that’s not new.”
“I know,” Bianca said, letting out a small, nervous laugh. “It just feels different. This is his last game of high school football. It’s just crazy.”
Before Mary could respond, footsteps clanked up the bleachers behind them. Felix appeared, bundled in a heavy coast, a knit cap pulled low over his ears. He carefully balanced three cups in a cardboard tray, steam rising off the tops.
“Though you two could use these,” he said, handing one to Bianca, then one to Mary.
Bianca wrapped her hands around the cup immediately, the heat almost shocking against her cold fingers. “Thank you so much, Mr. Jones.”
Mary took a sip right away, humming in approval. “You always come through, honey.”
Felix settled in beside them, glancing out at the field. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world. I’m going to get back to the shop afterward though. I left Mariah there, but we need to get some of those tax forms in by tonight.”
He turned his attention to Bianca. “So - Michigan. How’s that treating you?”
Bianca smiled, adjusting the jacket around her shoulders. “It’s good. Busy, but good.”
Felix nodded. “Huge campus. Huge life.”
“Yeah,” she said, then smirked slightly. “I’m just trying to get him over there next year.”
Felix chuckled, shaking his head as he looked back toward the field. “You pull that off, I think Sherrone Moore would make you student of the year.”
Mary nudged him lightly. “I bet you would have us packed and moved to Ann Arbor by next week.”
“Damn right,” Felix replied, taking a sip of his drink. “I read about this ‘NIL’ thing - Zane knows I want my reparations too.”
A sudden swell of noise rolled through the stadium, the band kicking up as the tunnel entrance lit up with movement. Players began to crowd near the opening, helmets on, breath puffing in the cold.
Bianca’s grip tightened around her cup as she leaned forward, eyes scanning.
“There he is,” Mary said quickly, already lifting her phone again.
Zane emerged at the front of the pack, #1 bright against the dark uniform, his shoulders squared, helmet sitting on his head unbuckled. Snowflakes clung to his jersey as he bounced on his toes, hyping up the guys behind him.
The team surged onto the field together, cleats kicking up bits of snow and turf as the crown roared.
Bianca felt the sound hit her chest, loud and alive. She pushed to her feet without thinking, cheering as loud as she could.
“Let’s go!” Felix shouted beside her.
Mary’s voice cut through as she filmed. “That’s my boy!”
Zane jogged toward the sideline, then turned back toward the field, clapping his hands, rallying his teammates as they spread out across the snow turf.
Bianca watched him, locked in. For a moment, the nerves didn’t disappear but shifted. Turned into something sharper. Louder.
She wants intently, waiting for things to unfold.
“Hello, ladies and gentlemen! We are here at Cumberland Valley High School in frosty Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania for the WPIAL State Championship Game between the Upper St. Clair Panthers and the Exeter Township Eagles!”
“I mean, Rod, this figures to be a good one. I don’t think anyone thought that Upper St. Clair had such a strong season in them, but getting quarterback Malik Richards has been huge for the squad.”
“For sure, Butch. He’s had a tough playoffs, but tough for him is elite for most, and he figures to show up for the Panthers in this one. The emergence of wide receiver Zane Jones has been the x-factor for Upper St. Clair here. I mean, he gives you everything you need in a prototypical wide receiver: he’s big, he’s strong, he’s fast - he does things the absolute right way.”
“For the Eagles, they have a great matchup for Jones in four-star Pittsburgh commit Xavier Johnson - the number one ranked cornerback in the state of Pennsylvania.”
“Yeah, I mean his reach is insane for a cornerback. Standing at 6-foot-3, he’s long and rangy. But, he’s smart and has great foot speed. This is one of the few cornerbacks that Jones won’t be able to just run by with his impressive speed. This is going to be a chess match when they shift into man coverage.”
…
“Second and 7 after a small pickup by Raekwon Williams to start things off. Richards in shotgun. He takes the snap, eyes Jones flanked out left. Pressure comes shooting up the middle. Richards is flushed out of the pocket and snaps a pass to Cam Wilson. He’s tackled right away, but that’s good for a first down!”
“Wilson is definitely dying to make an impact after taking a backseat behind Zane Jones and Raekwon Williams in the Panthers;’ offense during this playoff run.”
…
Zane peers to his left, seeing Malik clapping his hand. The ball shoots from the center and he takes off. He stems inside of the cornerback, attacking his cushion immediately. He shoots his hand out but Zane dips his shoulder, feeling the hand gliding over his jersey.
He pushes away using his elbow, taking a hard step inside to commit to the slant. Like clockwork, he hears the ball whistling toward him. He flashes his hands and feels the familiar feeling of catching of the ball right away. He tucks it away and starts turning over the field.
He peeks and finds the middle linebacker roaring towards him. Knowing he won’t win that battle, he stretches towards the ground, allowing for the linebacker to rumble over top of him, both of them crashing to the ground.
Gathering his bearings, Zane pushes off the ground, flicking the ball towards the referee gesturing for the ball. He sees that he’s gotten enough for a first down, giving a quick point as a means for celebration before walking back to the assembling huddle.
…
“Third and short, Upper St. Clair pushing into Exeter Township territory after some strong power running from Raekwon Williams. Richards takes the snap, handing off to Williams directly behind him. He’s pumping his leg, and he slips out of the grasp of the linebacker who shot the gap! Williams rips right and he’s got nothing but daylight in front of him. Jones is hustling to throw one last block on the free safety.”
“Williams is in and this place is going hectic from the Panthers’ faithful that made the trip up to Cumberland. Touchdown Panthers!”
“I don’t think we’ve seen anyone run faster than Zane Jones flying by to give Raekwon Williams the one last block he needed to get into the end zone. Wow.”
…
“Exeter is looking to respond, starting the drive at their own 20-yard line. Quarterback Ryan Clark under center. He takes the snap, three-step drop, firing out right away. Stuart Briggs reels it in and is downed by Abdul Al-Rahim right away. Gain of seven on the first play from the Eagles.”
“If I’m the Eagles’ offense, I’m going to go to the quick game, early and often. The Panthers’ are still double-shifting Zane Jones at wide receiver and cornerback. I would absolutely try and test the young man’s stamina and make him less effective all around.”
…
“Clark snaps the ball out of shotgun, play-action to the bank and he has time in the pocket. He’s looking deep. He unclips one and sends it deep down the field just as the pocket breaks down. The ball sails on him and dies out an easy five-yards too deep for the sprinting Stuart Briggs who had a step on Al-Rahim in coverage.”
“After the early completion, the Eagles will have to punt, giving the Panthers an opportunity to get a two-score lead early in the game.”
…
The scoreboard clock bled down toward zero, red digits flickering through the snowfall as the second quarter dragged toward halftime. The field looked harder now - patches of thin ice forming where cleats had torn up the turf. Every step sounded heavier, sharper.
Upper St. Clair clung to a 7-3 lead, but the energy had shifted. Exeter Township’s defense had tightened like a vice.
Zane stood wide on the right hash, hands resting on his hips for a second longer than he wanted. His breath came out in short bursts, visible in the freezing air. Across from him, Xavier Johnson crouched low, eyes locked in, barely blinking. A safety hovered deep behind him, shaded toward Zane’s side. A linebacker cheated underneath.
Everywhere he went, someone followed.
Zane flexed his fingers, trying to shake the stiffness out. His legs felt heavy - too many snaps on both sides of the ball, too many hits absorbed into a frozen field that didn’t give anything back.
Malik clapped his hands in shotgun, scanning the defense. He barked something out - sharp, quick - then pointed.
Zane glanced in. An audible.
He nodded once. Deep route.
Zane bent at the waist, settling into his stance. He bounced once on his toes, cleats scraping against the hardened turf. Snowflakes clung to his facemask.
Then the ball snapped. He exploded forward.
Three steps. Five. Ten yards. Johnson stayed glued to him, stride for stride.
Zane’s chest tightened, lungs burning as he pushed deeper. The safety drifted over the top, exactly where he expected.
At about ten yards, Zane chopped his feet - hard. A sudden stutter. His shoulders dipped like he was gearing to break inside.
Johnson bit. Just a fraction. A half-step.
But it was enough. Zane planted and took off again, accelerating downfield. The space opened - thin, but real.
He tilted his head up. The ball was already in the air. High and looping towards him.
And dropping fast.
Zane stretched his stride, arms pumping, eyes locked on the spiral cutting through the snow. He could hear Johnson recovering behind him - closing.
He launched, hands extended above his helmet, fingers splayed.
The ball hit his palms. At the same instant, Johnson crashed into him from behind, an arm wrapping around his torso, dragging him backward midair.
Zane clutched the ball to his chest. The ground came fast. His back hit first - hard.
His head snapped against the frozen turf. A dull crack. White light burst behind his eyes.
For a second, everything went silent. Then the noise rushed back all at once. The crowd. Screaming and roaring. A whistle somewhere in the chaos.
Zane lay there, blinking against the snowflake falling into his facemask. His arms were still wrapped tight around the ball, fingers locked like a vice. He sucked in a breath.
Everything hurt. But, at least the ball was still there.
He rolled slightly, groaning under his breath as he pushed himself up to a knee. The world tilted for a second before settling.
Hands reached him. “That was fucking nasty,” Cam bellowed, gripping his shoulder pads. “You mossed his ass.”
Zane let out a low grunt, not trusting his voice yet. He blinked hard a couple times, trying to clear the haze. The stadium lights felt too bright. The noise too loud.
They started toward the sideline together, Zane moving carefully, each step deliberate on the stiff field. He kept his head up, jaw tight, doing everything he could to look normal.
13-3. The extra point unit was already jogging out.
Zane reached the sideline and pulled his helmet off, cold air hitting his face immediately. He bent slightly at the waist, hands on his knees, breathing hard.
The cold hit sharp the moment Bianca adjusted her stance on the aluminum bleachers, the chill seeping through even the thick layers she had on. Snowflakes drifted steadily from the sky, catching in her hair and melting against the wool of the scarf wrapped around her neck. The field below was dusted in white - not enough to cover the green, but just enough to make every yard line look blurred, like the whole night had been softened at the edges.
She pulled the sleeves of Zane’s varsity jacket down over her hands, tucking her fingers inside for warmth. The red letting - Jones - stretched across her back, bold against the black leather. Underneath, the familiar navy USC track sweater peeked through, the fabric worn in just the right way from last season.
Next to her, Mary stood with her phone already up, recording before anything had even started.
“I’m not missing a second of this,” Mary said, her voice bright despite the cold. “Rasheed’s gonna want to see all of it.”
Bianca smiled, glancing over. “You’re really gonna show him everything?”
Mary nodded without hesitation. “Every snap I can get. I’ll bring it tomorrow.” She steadied her phone, zooming in toward the sideline. “He should be here for this.”
Bianca’s smile lingered, but it tightened just slightly at the edges. She shifted her weight, eyes flicking down to the field where players were beginning to gather near the tunnel.
Mary lowered her phone just enough to look at her. “What’s wrong, baby?”
Bianca shook her head quickly. “Nothing, I’m good.”
Mary gave her a look that said she didn’t believe that for a second.
Bianca exhaled, her breath visible in the cold air. “I just know how much he wants this.”
Mary’s expression softened. She reached over, squeezing Bianca’s arm through the thick jacket. “That boy wants it bad. But, that’s not new.”
“I know,” Bianca said, letting out a small, nervous laugh. “It just feels different. This is his last game of high school football. It’s just crazy.”
Before Mary could respond, footsteps clanked up the bleachers behind them. Felix appeared, bundled in a heavy coast, a knit cap pulled low over his ears. He carefully balanced three cups in a cardboard tray, steam rising off the tops.
“Though you two could use these,” he said, handing one to Bianca, then one to Mary.
Bianca wrapped her hands around the cup immediately, the heat almost shocking against her cold fingers. “Thank you so much, Mr. Jones.”
Mary took a sip right away, humming in approval. “You always come through, honey.”
Felix settled in beside them, glancing out at the field. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world. I’m going to get back to the shop afterward though. I left Mariah there, but we need to get some of those tax forms in by tonight.”
He turned his attention to Bianca. “So - Michigan. How’s that treating you?”
Bianca smiled, adjusting the jacket around her shoulders. “It’s good. Busy, but good.”
Felix nodded. “Huge campus. Huge life.”
“Yeah,” she said, then smirked slightly. “I’m just trying to get him over there next year.”
Felix chuckled, shaking his head as he looked back toward the field. “You pull that off, I think Sherrone Moore would make you student of the year.”
Mary nudged him lightly. “I bet you would have us packed and moved to Ann Arbor by next week.”
“Damn right,” Felix replied, taking a sip of his drink. “I read about this ‘NIL’ thing - Zane knows I want my reparations too.”
A sudden swell of noise rolled through the stadium, the band kicking up as the tunnel entrance lit up with movement. Players began to crowd near the opening, helmets on, breath puffing in the cold.
Bianca’s grip tightened around her cup as she leaned forward, eyes scanning.
“There he is,” Mary said quickly, already lifting her phone again.
Zane emerged at the front of the pack, #1 bright against the dark uniform, his shoulders squared, helmet sitting on his head unbuckled. Snowflakes clung to his jersey as he bounced on his toes, hyping up the guys behind him.
The team surged onto the field together, cleats kicking up bits of snow and turf as the crown roared.
Bianca felt the sound hit her chest, loud and alive. She pushed to her feet without thinking, cheering as loud as she could.
“Let’s go!” Felix shouted beside her.
Mary’s voice cut through as she filmed. “That’s my boy!”
Zane jogged toward the sideline, then turned back toward the field, clapping his hands, rallying his teammates as they spread out across the snow turf.
Bianca watched him, locked in. For a moment, the nerves didn’t disappear but shifted. Turned into something sharper. Louder.
She wants intently, waiting for things to unfold.
***
“Hello, ladies and gentlemen! We are here at Cumberland Valley High School in frosty Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania for the WPIAL State Championship Game between the Upper St. Clair Panthers and the Exeter Township Eagles!”
“I mean, Rod, this figures to be a good one. I don’t think anyone thought that Upper St. Clair had such a strong season in them, but getting quarterback Malik Richards has been huge for the squad.”
“For sure, Butch. He’s had a tough playoffs, but tough for him is elite for most, and he figures to show up for the Panthers in this one. The emergence of wide receiver Zane Jones has been the x-factor for Upper St. Clair here. I mean, he gives you everything you need in a prototypical wide receiver: he’s big, he’s strong, he’s fast - he does things the absolute right way.”
“For the Eagles, they have a great matchup for Jones in four-star Pittsburgh commit Xavier Johnson - the number one ranked cornerback in the state of Pennsylvania.”
“Yeah, I mean his reach is insane for a cornerback. Standing at 6-foot-3, he’s long and rangy. But, he’s smart and has great foot speed. This is one of the few cornerbacks that Jones won’t be able to just run by with his impressive speed. This is going to be a chess match when they shift into man coverage.”
…
“Second and 7 after a small pickup by Raekwon Williams to start things off. Richards in shotgun. He takes the snap, eyes Jones flanked out left. Pressure comes shooting up the middle. Richards is flushed out of the pocket and snaps a pass to Cam Wilson. He’s tackled right away, but that’s good for a first down!”
“Wilson is definitely dying to make an impact after taking a backseat behind Zane Jones and Raekwon Williams in the Panthers;’ offense during this playoff run.”
…
Zane peers to his left, seeing Malik clapping his hand. The ball shoots from the center and he takes off. He stems inside of the cornerback, attacking his cushion immediately. He shoots his hand out but Zane dips his shoulder, feeling the hand gliding over his jersey.
He pushes away using his elbow, taking a hard step inside to commit to the slant. Like clockwork, he hears the ball whistling toward him. He flashes his hands and feels the familiar feeling of catching of the ball right away. He tucks it away and starts turning over the field.
He peeks and finds the middle linebacker roaring towards him. Knowing he won’t win that battle, he stretches towards the ground, allowing for the linebacker to rumble over top of him, both of them crashing to the ground.
Gathering his bearings, Zane pushes off the ground, flicking the ball towards the referee gesturing for the ball. He sees that he’s gotten enough for a first down, giving a quick point as a means for celebration before walking back to the assembling huddle.
…
“Third and short, Upper St. Clair pushing into Exeter Township territory after some strong power running from Raekwon Williams. Richards takes the snap, handing off to Williams directly behind him. He’s pumping his leg, and he slips out of the grasp of the linebacker who shot the gap! Williams rips right and he’s got nothing but daylight in front of him. Jones is hustling to throw one last block on the free safety.”
“Williams is in and this place is going hectic from the Panthers’ faithful that made the trip up to Cumberland. Touchdown Panthers!”
“I don’t think we’ve seen anyone run faster than Zane Jones flying by to give Raekwon Williams the one last block he needed to get into the end zone. Wow.”
…
“Exeter is looking to respond, starting the drive at their own 20-yard line. Quarterback Ryan Clark under center. He takes the snap, three-step drop, firing out right away. Stuart Briggs reels it in and is downed by Abdul Al-Rahim right away. Gain of seven on the first play from the Eagles.”
“If I’m the Eagles’ offense, I’m going to go to the quick game, early and often. The Panthers’ are still double-shifting Zane Jones at wide receiver and cornerback. I would absolutely try and test the young man’s stamina and make him less effective all around.”
…
“Clark snaps the ball out of shotgun, play-action to the bank and he has time in the pocket. He’s looking deep. He unclips one and sends it deep down the field just as the pocket breaks down. The ball sails on him and dies out an easy five-yards too deep for the sprinting Stuart Briggs who had a step on Al-Rahim in coverage.”
“After the early completion, the Eagles will have to punt, giving the Panthers an opportunity to get a two-score lead early in the game.”
…
The scoreboard clock bled down toward zero, red digits flickering through the snowfall as the second quarter dragged toward halftime. The field looked harder now - patches of thin ice forming where cleats had torn up the turf. Every step sounded heavier, sharper.
Upper St. Clair clung to a 7-3 lead, but the energy had shifted. Exeter Township’s defense had tightened like a vice.
Zane stood wide on the right hash, hands resting on his hips for a second longer than he wanted. His breath came out in short bursts, visible in the freezing air. Across from him, Xavier Johnson crouched low, eyes locked in, barely blinking. A safety hovered deep behind him, shaded toward Zane’s side. A linebacker cheated underneath.
Everywhere he went, someone followed.
Zane flexed his fingers, trying to shake the stiffness out. His legs felt heavy - too many snaps on both sides of the ball, too many hits absorbed into a frozen field that didn’t give anything back.
Malik clapped his hands in shotgun, scanning the defense. He barked something out - sharp, quick - then pointed.
Zane glanced in. An audible.
He nodded once. Deep route.
Zane bent at the waist, settling into his stance. He bounced once on his toes, cleats scraping against the hardened turf. Snowflakes clung to his facemask.
Then the ball snapped. He exploded forward.
Three steps. Five. Ten yards. Johnson stayed glued to him, stride for stride.
Zane’s chest tightened, lungs burning as he pushed deeper. The safety drifted over the top, exactly where he expected.
At about ten yards, Zane chopped his feet - hard. A sudden stutter. His shoulders dipped like he was gearing to break inside.
Johnson bit. Just a fraction. A half-step.
But it was enough. Zane planted and took off again, accelerating downfield. The space opened - thin, but real.
He tilted his head up. The ball was already in the air. High and looping towards him.
And dropping fast.
Zane stretched his stride, arms pumping, eyes locked on the spiral cutting through the snow. He could hear Johnson recovering behind him - closing.
He launched, hands extended above his helmet, fingers splayed.
The ball hit his palms. At the same instant, Johnson crashed into him from behind, an arm wrapping around his torso, dragging him backward midair.
Zane clutched the ball to his chest. The ground came fast. His back hit first - hard.
His head snapped against the frozen turf. A dull crack. White light burst behind his eyes.
For a second, everything went silent. Then the noise rushed back all at once. The crowd. Screaming and roaring. A whistle somewhere in the chaos.
Zane lay there, blinking against the snowflake falling into his facemask. His arms were still wrapped tight around the ball, fingers locked like a vice. He sucked in a breath.
Everything hurt. But, at least the ball was still there.
He rolled slightly, groaning under his breath as he pushed himself up to a knee. The world tilted for a second before settling.
Hands reached him. “That was fucking nasty,” Cam bellowed, gripping his shoulder pads. “You mossed his ass.”
Zane let out a low grunt, not trusting his voice yet. He blinked hard a couple times, trying to clear the haze. The stadium lights felt too bright. The noise too loud.
They started toward the sideline together, Zane moving carefully, each step deliberate on the stiff field. He kept his head up, jaw tight, doing everything he could to look normal.
13-3. The extra point unit was already jogging out.
Zane reached the sideline and pulled his helmet off, cold air hitting his face immediately. He bent slightly at the waist, hands on his knees, breathing hard.
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 7866
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Invictus
Warrior mentality
As mentioned before, I know the creator of Mireya Rosas ain't talking about no whores
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 7866
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Invictus
Season IV | Chapter V - For All The Marbles, Part II
The locker room was loud - metal lockers slamming, cleats scraping against tile, voices overlapping - but it all sounded distant to Zane. Like it was happening down a long hallway he couldn’t quite reach.
He sat hunched forward on the bench, elbows resting on his knees, helmet on the floor by his feet. His shoulder pads felt heavier now, pressing down into him.
Hands moved in front of his face. “Zane - look at me.”
A trainer’s voice. He blinked, but it felt delayed, like his body was catching up a second too late. Fingers snapped near his eyes.
“Follow this.”
Zane’s gaze dragged side to side, slow, unsteady. The room tilted slightly, then corrected.
Another voice - Coach Shazier - cut in, sharper, urgent. Words flew back and forth between him and the trainer, but Zane couldn’t piece them together. It all blended into a low hum.
A high-pitched ringing filled his ears. He frowned, bringing a hand up to his temple, pressing into it like that might quiet the noise.
“Stay with me, Zane.”
He heard that one clearer. Barely. He closed his eyes just for a second. Darkness.
He pulled in a long breath through his nose, holding it for a moment before letting it out slow. The ringing dulled, just a notch. When he opened his eyes again, things snapped back - not fully, not clean - but enough.
The room came into focus. Colors steadied. Movements sped back up to normal.
The trainer was right in front of him, crouched low, eyes searching his face. “... should really consider sitting him,” the trainer was saying now, clearer.
Coach Shazier stood just behind him, arms folded, jaw tight. His eyes locked into Zane’s. Waiting.
Zane straightened slightly, blinking a couple more times. The headache pulsed behind his eyes, deep and heavy, but he pushed through it.
“I’m good,” he said, voice rough.
The trainer shook his head immediately. “You took a hard hit. We need to be smart here.”
Zane looked past him, straight at Coach.
“I’m fine.”
Coach didn’t answer right away. He stepped closer, crouching down just enough to be eye level.
“Talk to me,” he said, calm but firm. “You know where you are?”
Zane nodded. “Locker room. Halftime. Championship game.”
“What’s the score?”
“14-3,” Zane answered without hesitation.
Coach studied him for another second.
Then, quieter, “You sure this is worth the risk?”
Zane pushed himself up off the bench before anyone could respond. His legs felt a little unsteady at first, but he locked them in place, standing tall. “It’s worth everything.”
The words came out flat. Certain. No hesitation.
Coach held his gaze for a moment longer, searching for something - doubt, maybe - but didn’t find it. He gave a slow nod.
“Alright, he’s good.” He stood up, clapping his hands once as he turned away. “Let’s get ready.”
The room surged back to life around them as he moved off, calling out adjustments, pulling players into position groups.
The trainer lingered for a second. “If anything feels off - anything - you come out. No debate.”
Zane didn’t respond, just gave a small nod. The trainer hesitated, then moved on.
Zane stood there for a moment, alone in the middle of the chaos. He rubbed his eyes hard with the heels of his palms, trying to dull the throbbing behind them. It didn’t really help.
He bent down, grabbing his helmet, fingers tightening around the facemask. Then he straightened up again and walked back into the noise.
“Exeter comes out to start the second half, Clark hands off to Quintavius Turner. He bounces outside and is sprinting and picks up a block, he sheds off Luke Russell - wow! He is hit hard by Zane Jones. What a thunderous hit!”
“Jones has been a man possessed since coming out of the tunnel for the second half. That’s the third straight tackle he’s made in Exeter’s opening drive. The Eagles will have to punt in their opening drive.”
…
Zane still felt the subtle sting in his shoulder from the hit in the last drive as he lined up, flanking Malik on the right. Malik motioned, waving his hand. Cam responded, pushing a few steps closer to Zane, coming towards the hash marks.
Malik scanned the defense one last time before clapping his ball, snapping the ball. Zane burst off the line for a few steps before sticking his right foot into the ground, running a slant underneath Cam’s out route. The ball hit him directly in the hands.
Xavier Johnson came flying in to make the tackle before Zane slammed the brakes and spun off of him, sending Johnson tumbling to the frozen turf. Zane caught himself and started rumbling towards Cam, who was continuing to run off the cornerback who had been in coverage on him.
Cam noticed, peeking over his shoulder at Zane sprinting full-haul towards him, engaging in a block. The cornerback - more feisty than Cam - broke off the putrid block attempt and got low to make the tackle.
Zane allowed his instincts to take over, taking one last stride before taking off on one foot, hurdling the cornerback. He barely cleared, drawing oohs and ahs from the crowd as he descended back to the turf, clutching the ball as the safety collided with him mere moments after he made contact with the ground.
The referee blew the whistle, signalling a first down and beckoning for the ball. Zane held a single finger towards the end zone, holding it for a moment. He turned and saw Cam.
“Bro, can you hold that fucking block?” he screamed. Cam shook his head, not giving a response.
Zane shook his head and followed him back towards the huddle.
…
“Richards fakes the handoff to Williams and scrambles into the end zone, doing it on his own! Upper St. Clair is going to go up 21-3 here early in the third quarter!”
…
“Exeter is continuing to try and grind out the ground game, but Luke Russell is having none of it with a booming hit on Quintavius Turner, who is slow to get up! Eagles are forced to punt again.”
“It’s getting real quiet for the Exeter Township faithful, while Upper St. Clair continues to roar ahead.”
…
“The Panthers are set in a three-by-one formation, Jones out right by himself on an island against Xavier Johnson. Richards motions him down and snaps the ball. He turns, fakes to Jones, and hands it off to Williams - no - it’s a fake. Jones has a step on Johnson. Richards launches down field! Bang! Jones is in the end zone!”
“What a shot! That had to be in the air for at least 50 yards! Jones scores his second touchdown of the game, and this game is getting out of hand very quickly for the Eagles!”
Zane stood near the white sideline stripe, helmet hanging loosely from his right hand, his chest still rising and falling heavier than it should’ve been.
The scoreboard loomed across the field.
41-10.
The clock ticked down in the fourth quarter, slow and inevitable.
The starters had been pulled. Second and third string guys filled the field now, their jerseys a little cleaner, their movements a little more frantic as they tried to make the most of the final minutes. Pads cracked in shorter bursts, whistles came quicker. The urgency of the game had faded into something looser.
Zane barely noticed. His body throbbed. Every part of him.
His shoulders burned from contact, his legs felt like they had been filled with sand, and the dull ache behind his eyes hadn’t fully gone away. But it didn’t matter now.
He shifted his weight, the cold seeping through his cleats as he stepped just off the turf. Snow still drifted down lightly, catching in his hair, melting against his skin.
A couple of his teammates slapped his shoulder pads as they passed.
“What a fucking game, bro.”
“Three touchdowns in the State title game? You’re a legend, man.”
Zane nodded, giving small acknowledgements, but his attention kept drifting.
Back to the field. Back to the clock. Back to the realization settling in deeper with every second that ticked off.
This was it. No more Fridays.
No more buses packed with the guys. No more running out under the lights with the band playing and the crowd losing their minds. No more Upper St. Clair football.
He swallowed, his jaw tightening slightly. A whistle blew. Another short run. The pile collapsed quickly. Players untangled, jogging back to the huddle.
The crowd was still loud, still alive despite the game being out of reach. People stood bundled in coats and hats, clapping, shouting, waving.
He spotted them after a moment.
Bianca first. She stood out in his jacket, even from this distance. She was on her feet, cheering, bouncing slightly to keep warm, her face bright even through the cold.
Next to her, Mary had her phone up again, recording like she had been all night, her free hand clapping between takes. Felix stood beside them, arms folded but smiling wide, nodding along with the moment like he was trying to take it all in without making a big show of it.
Zane’s chest tightened.
It was almost over. Zane pressed his lips together, giving a small nod to himself, like he was acknowledging something unspoken.
Then he stayed right there on the sideline, eyes locked on the field, watching the final moments of his high school career slip away.
…
Confetti doesn’t fall at high school games - but it feels like it should.
The clock hits zero. Helmets fly into the air. Players look around in disbelief. The feeling does not quite make sense. The reality is not quite clocking for them.
Players collapse, jump, scream. Zane doesn’t move at first. He just looks around. Taking it all in.
Malik is being mobbed near midfield by his offensive linemen. Kwon is on his knees, pounding the turf, tears streaming down his face. Cam is shouting into the crowd, fans flooding past him to get onto the turf, like he’s trying to be heard back in Pittsburgh.
Then, it hits him. He watches Bianca sprint at him, her arms wrapping up on him. He could frame the look on her face and keep it in his back pocket. Jubilant is an understatement.
Near the bottom of the bleachers, he could see his grandparents, wide smiles. Jumping into each other’s arms while other fans patted them on the backs, celebrating with them.
The cold. The lights. The moment.
“You guys fucking did it!” she screamed into his face. A smile began building on his face. Words couldn’t harness this feeling.
“Yeah, I guess we did.” Zane glances at the scoreboard one more time.
Not to remember it. But, just to make sure it was real.
The locker room was loud - metal lockers slamming, cleats scraping against tile, voices overlapping - but it all sounded distant to Zane. Like it was happening down a long hallway he couldn’t quite reach.
He sat hunched forward on the bench, elbows resting on his knees, helmet on the floor by his feet. His shoulder pads felt heavier now, pressing down into him.
Hands moved in front of his face. “Zane - look at me.”
A trainer’s voice. He blinked, but it felt delayed, like his body was catching up a second too late. Fingers snapped near his eyes.
“Follow this.”
Zane’s gaze dragged side to side, slow, unsteady. The room tilted slightly, then corrected.
Another voice - Coach Shazier - cut in, sharper, urgent. Words flew back and forth between him and the trainer, but Zane couldn’t piece them together. It all blended into a low hum.
A high-pitched ringing filled his ears. He frowned, bringing a hand up to his temple, pressing into it like that might quiet the noise.
“Stay with me, Zane.”
He heard that one clearer. Barely. He closed his eyes just for a second. Darkness.
He pulled in a long breath through his nose, holding it for a moment before letting it out slow. The ringing dulled, just a notch. When he opened his eyes again, things snapped back - not fully, not clean - but enough.
The room came into focus. Colors steadied. Movements sped back up to normal.
The trainer was right in front of him, crouched low, eyes searching his face. “... should really consider sitting him,” the trainer was saying now, clearer.
Coach Shazier stood just behind him, arms folded, jaw tight. His eyes locked into Zane’s. Waiting.
Zane straightened slightly, blinking a couple more times. The headache pulsed behind his eyes, deep and heavy, but he pushed through it.
“I’m good,” he said, voice rough.
The trainer shook his head immediately. “You took a hard hit. We need to be smart here.”
Zane looked past him, straight at Coach.
“I’m fine.”
Coach didn’t answer right away. He stepped closer, crouching down just enough to be eye level.
“Talk to me,” he said, calm but firm. “You know where you are?”
Zane nodded. “Locker room. Halftime. Championship game.”
“What’s the score?”
“14-3,” Zane answered without hesitation.
Coach studied him for another second.
Then, quieter, “You sure this is worth the risk?”
Zane pushed himself up off the bench before anyone could respond. His legs felt a little unsteady at first, but he locked them in place, standing tall. “It’s worth everything.”
The words came out flat. Certain. No hesitation.
Coach held his gaze for a moment longer, searching for something - doubt, maybe - but didn’t find it. He gave a slow nod.
“Alright, he’s good.” He stood up, clapping his hands once as he turned away. “Let’s get ready.”
The room surged back to life around them as he moved off, calling out adjustments, pulling players into position groups.
The trainer lingered for a second. “If anything feels off - anything - you come out. No debate.”
Zane didn’t respond, just gave a small nod. The trainer hesitated, then moved on.
Zane stood there for a moment, alone in the middle of the chaos. He rubbed his eyes hard with the heels of his palms, trying to dull the throbbing behind them. It didn’t really help.
He bent down, grabbing his helmet, fingers tightening around the facemask. Then he straightened up again and walked back into the noise.
***
“Exeter comes out to start the second half, Clark hands off to Quintavius Turner. He bounces outside and is sprinting and picks up a block, he sheds off Luke Russell - wow! He is hit hard by Zane Jones. What a thunderous hit!”
“Jones has been a man possessed since coming out of the tunnel for the second half. That’s the third straight tackle he’s made in Exeter’s opening drive. The Eagles will have to punt in their opening drive.”
…
Zane still felt the subtle sting in his shoulder from the hit in the last drive as he lined up, flanking Malik on the right. Malik motioned, waving his hand. Cam responded, pushing a few steps closer to Zane, coming towards the hash marks.
Malik scanned the defense one last time before clapping his ball, snapping the ball. Zane burst off the line for a few steps before sticking his right foot into the ground, running a slant underneath Cam’s out route. The ball hit him directly in the hands.
Xavier Johnson came flying in to make the tackle before Zane slammed the brakes and spun off of him, sending Johnson tumbling to the frozen turf. Zane caught himself and started rumbling towards Cam, who was continuing to run off the cornerback who had been in coverage on him.
Cam noticed, peeking over his shoulder at Zane sprinting full-haul towards him, engaging in a block. The cornerback - more feisty than Cam - broke off the putrid block attempt and got low to make the tackle.
Zane allowed his instincts to take over, taking one last stride before taking off on one foot, hurdling the cornerback. He barely cleared, drawing oohs and ahs from the crowd as he descended back to the turf, clutching the ball as the safety collided with him mere moments after he made contact with the ground.
The referee blew the whistle, signalling a first down and beckoning for the ball. Zane held a single finger towards the end zone, holding it for a moment. He turned and saw Cam.
“Bro, can you hold that fucking block?” he screamed. Cam shook his head, not giving a response.
Zane shook his head and followed him back towards the huddle.
…
“Richards fakes the handoff to Williams and scrambles into the end zone, doing it on his own! Upper St. Clair is going to go up 21-3 here early in the third quarter!”
…
“Exeter is continuing to try and grind out the ground game, but Luke Russell is having none of it with a booming hit on Quintavius Turner, who is slow to get up! Eagles are forced to punt again.”
“It’s getting real quiet for the Exeter Township faithful, while Upper St. Clair continues to roar ahead.”
…
“The Panthers are set in a three-by-one formation, Jones out right by himself on an island against Xavier Johnson. Richards motions him down and snaps the ball. He turns, fakes to Jones, and hands it off to Williams - no - it’s a fake. Jones has a step on Johnson. Richards launches down field! Bang! Jones is in the end zone!”
“What a shot! That had to be in the air for at least 50 yards! Jones scores his second touchdown of the game, and this game is getting out of hand very quickly for the Eagles!”
***
Zane stood near the white sideline stripe, helmet hanging loosely from his right hand, his chest still rising and falling heavier than it should’ve been.
The scoreboard loomed across the field.
41-10.
The clock ticked down in the fourth quarter, slow and inevitable.
The starters had been pulled. Second and third string guys filled the field now, their jerseys a little cleaner, their movements a little more frantic as they tried to make the most of the final minutes. Pads cracked in shorter bursts, whistles came quicker. The urgency of the game had faded into something looser.
Zane barely noticed. His body throbbed. Every part of him.
His shoulders burned from contact, his legs felt like they had been filled with sand, and the dull ache behind his eyes hadn’t fully gone away. But it didn’t matter now.
He shifted his weight, the cold seeping through his cleats as he stepped just off the turf. Snow still drifted down lightly, catching in his hair, melting against his skin.
A couple of his teammates slapped his shoulder pads as they passed.
“What a fucking game, bro.”
“Three touchdowns in the State title game? You’re a legend, man.”
Zane nodded, giving small acknowledgements, but his attention kept drifting.
Back to the field. Back to the clock. Back to the realization settling in deeper with every second that ticked off.
This was it. No more Fridays.
No more buses packed with the guys. No more running out under the lights with the band playing and the crowd losing their minds. No more Upper St. Clair football.
He swallowed, his jaw tightening slightly. A whistle blew. Another short run. The pile collapsed quickly. Players untangled, jogging back to the huddle.
The crowd was still loud, still alive despite the game being out of reach. People stood bundled in coats and hats, clapping, shouting, waving.
He spotted them after a moment.
Bianca first. She stood out in his jacket, even from this distance. She was on her feet, cheering, bouncing slightly to keep warm, her face bright even through the cold.
Next to her, Mary had her phone up again, recording like she had been all night, her free hand clapping between takes. Felix stood beside them, arms folded but smiling wide, nodding along with the moment like he was trying to take it all in without making a big show of it.
Zane’s chest tightened.
It was almost over. Zane pressed his lips together, giving a small nod to himself, like he was acknowledging something unspoken.
Then he stayed right there on the sideline, eyes locked on the field, watching the final moments of his high school career slip away.
…
Confetti doesn’t fall at high school games - but it feels like it should.
The clock hits zero. Helmets fly into the air. Players look around in disbelief. The feeling does not quite make sense. The reality is not quite clocking for them.
Players collapse, jump, scream. Zane doesn’t move at first. He just looks around. Taking it all in.
Malik is being mobbed near midfield by his offensive linemen. Kwon is on his knees, pounding the turf, tears streaming down his face. Cam is shouting into the crowd, fans flooding past him to get onto the turf, like he’s trying to be heard back in Pittsburgh.
Then, it hits him. He watches Bianca sprint at him, her arms wrapping up on him. He could frame the look on her face and keep it in his back pocket. Jubilant is an understatement.
Near the bottom of the bleachers, he could see his grandparents, wide smiles. Jumping into each other’s arms while other fans patted them on the backs, celebrating with them.
The cold. The lights. The moment.
“You guys fucking did it!” she screamed into his face. A smile began building on his face. Words couldn’t harness this feeling.
“Yeah, I guess we did.” Zane glances at the scoreboard one more time.
Not to remember it. But, just to make sure it was real.
