Instead...
Invictus
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 7892
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Invictus
It's hard times out here in the Jones family
Look at this negro here, continuing the cycle of violence in our community
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 7892
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Invictus
Season IV | Chapter IX - Dive
The knock comes soft. Zane is already halfway to the door by the time the second one lands. He opens it without much thought, the cold air slipping in past Malik’s shoulder as he stands there on the porch.
First thing Zane notices is the hat. Bright green and orange.
Zane squints at it. “Fuck you wearing?”
Malik reaches up, tapes the brim like it’s nothing. “Committed this morning.”
Zane blinks once. Then again. “Miami? I thought you were Florida State through and through.”
Malik shrugged, slipping past Zane to enter the warmth. Zane closed the door behind him. He was shrugging his arm out of his jacket when he spoke again. “I don’t know man, Miami was offering me more incentive to roll.”
Zane stepped to Malik and pulled him into a quick dap, firm and real. “That’s huge, nigga. Congrats.”
Malik smirks slightly. “Glad the shit is finally done and decided with.”
The house is quieter than it used to be, but not as hollow as it was a few weeks ago. The TV is on low in the living room - some daytime show murmuring in the background. A blanket is folded neatly over the arm of the couch now instead of tossed aside.
Mary is sitting there, upright this time. She looks over as they walk in.
Malik straightens a bit. “Mrs. Jones."
Mary gives him a small nod and a gentle smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Malik, how are you doing baby?”
Her voice is soft, but it’s there. Couldn’t say the same not too long ago. Zane notices that.
“She eat today?” Malik mutters under his breath as they pass.
Zane shrugs slightly. “A bit, she’s trying.”
Malik nods, like that’s something.
They head down the hallway to Zane’s room. Zane drops onto the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees. Malik leans against the wall, arms crossed, scanning the room for a second before settling.
The silence isn’t awkward anymore.
Malik breaks it. “Early signing period coming up, bro.”
Zane exhales through his nose. “Yeah.”
“You signing or you going to wait?”
Zane shakes his head immediately, almost instinctively. “I don’t know, man.”
Malik tilts his head. “You still don’t know?”
Zane leans back slightly, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve never felt less sure about anything.”
Malik watches him. Zane runs a hand over his face. “Feels weird leaving right now.”
He gestures vaguely toward the rest of the house. “Like, it feels like I should be staying put now.”
Malik nods slowly. “For your grandma?”
Zane nods once. “Yeah.”
Malik pushes off the wall and walks a few steps into the room. “She wouldn’t come with you? Lord knows a school would put her up somewhere nice if that’s what it took to get that signature.”
Zane shakes his head. “I brought it up to her a few days ago. This house just means too much to her. My dad was born here. Her and gramps bought this place together ages ago and never planned to leave. It’s a no-go.”
Malik lets that sit for a second. “Then you have to figure it out. Can’t just pause your football career because you can’t make a decision.”
Zane looks over at him. “Just like that, huh?”
Malik doesn’t smile. “I’m serious, man. You’ve been waffling long before you had an excuse - all the respect to Mr. Jones.”
Zane’s jaw tightens slightly. Malik shrugs. “You staying here doesn’t fix what happened.”
“And leaving doesn’t mean you’re abandoning her either. We got planes now, nigga.”
Zane looks away. Malik steps a little closer, lowering his voice. “Plus, you think he would want you sitting around here, making your decision based on grief and a sense of duty?” he said, nodding his head upward.
That lands. Zane’s eyes flicker, just for a second.
Malik nods like he sees it. “Exactly.”
The room goes quiet again. From the living room, the TV laughs at something. It sounds out of place.
Zane leans forward, elbows back on his knees. “Bianca went back earlier this week, eh.”
Malik nods. “Yeah, she told me she was heading back earlier this week when you were still borderline comatose.”
Zane can’t hide the smile building on his face. “Fuck you” he jokes.
Malik snickers to himself before he notes Zane’s smile fading.
“Shit’s been weird since she’s been gone. I can barely get her on the phone.”
Malik raised an eyebrow. “Oh word?”
“I try to engage in conversation when we do, but man, it’s fucking tough. I think it’s pissing her off now.”
“She say that?” Malik folds his arms across his chest.
“She doesn’t have to - Bianca ain’t exactly the best at hiding her disdain for things.”
Early Signing Day hovered like a storm cloud on the horizon, every conversation about football bending toward it eventually. Coaches checked in constantly. Reporters sniffed around. Expectations pressed down from every direction, squeezing the joy out of something that once felt pure.
Most players his age had committed, decommitted, and committed elsewhere at this point. Zane remaining mum on where he was signing was a rarity, behind the glints and glamour of NIL deals and plushy social media photoshoots.
Through it all, Zane couldn’t help but think about his grandfather.
The house still felt different without him - too quiet, too hollow. Like the warmth had leaked out of a door left ajar. The radio in the garage sat silent, the autoshop’s scent of oil and metal still clinging to Zane’s clothes from the last time he had been there.
The night he had been shot had split Zane in two. Part of him still waited to be thawed from that moment, with fear running through him that the melting would never truly commence.
Malik let the silence sit, thumbing through his phone when Zane noticed his eyes bulging on whatever he was looking at. Zane’s brows knitted together, before nodding in his direction
“What’s good?”
“Nigga, you gotta see this.”
Zane crossed the threshold of the kitchen to where Malik was, glancing down at his phone. He froze.
BREAKING: Michigan Head Football Coach Sherone Moore Relieved of Duties Amid Allegations of Criminal Activity Involving Staffer
Zane stared at the screen, reading and rereading the headline, his pulse quickening.
“What?” he whispered.
He took Malik’s phone and began reading. He scrolled. More details. More speculation. Words like investigation, suspension, immediate dismissal flashing past his eyes. Michigan. Bianca. Everything tangled together in a sudden, dizzying knot.
His first thought wasn’t football.
It was her.
He imagined Bianca waking up in Ann Arbor to chaos - students buzzing, group chats exploding, uncertainty flooding a place that had already begun to feel like home to her.
Quietly, another thought crept in.
I can’t possibly consider going there now, can I?
Michigan already didn’t sell themselves well to Zane, obviously insinuating that he would just be another number on the roster whereas, acting like there was barely enough interest to garner a scholarship offer in the first place.
Zane lowered himself onto the couch, phone heavy in his hand. The house felt impossibly still, as if even the walls were waiting for answers he didn’t have.
The library is almost silent. Rows of desks stretch out under soft overhead lighting, most of them empty at this hour. Bianca sits tucked into a corner near the back, her laptop open, a textbook spread out in front of her with highlighted lines that blur together the longer she stares at them.
Her AirPods hum softly, Sabrina Carpenter playing low in her ears.
She flips a page. Reads the same sentence again. Nothing sticks.
Her pen taps lightly against the margin, then stops altogether. She leans back in her chair, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her palm.
“Okay … yeah, we’re done,” she mutters under her breath.
Her phone buzzes against the table.
She glances down. It’s Darius.
you seen the news?
Bianca frowns slightly, pulling one AirPod out.
what are you talking about? she types back.
The response comes almost immediately. A link.
She taps it. The page loads, and her eyes scan quickly - headline first. Then slower. Then again.
Her back straightens. Sherrone Moore - fired. Bianca blinks, her eyes moving line by line now, actually reading.
She scrolls. More details. Quotes. Speculation. Charges allegedly looming.
Her lips part slightly. “...holy shit,” she whispers.
She leans back again, the chair creaking softly, one hand coming up to rest against her forehead.
Even she knows what this means. Coaching staff turnover. Recruiting shifts. Uncertainty.
Zane.
Her eyes flick down to the timestamp. Hours ago. Her stomach drops. She immediately backs out of the article and opens her messages.
Zane’s name sits there. No new messages. Nothing.
She stares at it for a second longer than she means to. Maybe he hasn’t seen it. Her fingers hover over the screen.
How could he not? This is the kind of thing that blows up. Teammates, coaches, social media - someone would’ve told him.
Her thumb taps into the conversation. The last few messages sit there, spaced out. Short. Uneven. Nothing like before.
She swallows. Maybe he did see it and just didn’t reach out. That thought sits heavier.
Bianca exhales slowly, her shoulders sinking as she leans forward, elbows on the table. Her phone rests between her hands now.
She types. Stops. Deletes. Tries again.
did you see the news about Michigan?
She stares at it. Then hits send. The message delivers instantly. She sets her phone down, but her eyes don’t leave it.
The library feels even quieter now. Her textbook sits open, forgotten. The music still plays faintly in one ear, but she doesn’t hear it anymore.
Her fingers tap lightly against the table as she waits.
The knock comes soft. Zane is already halfway to the door by the time the second one lands. He opens it without much thought, the cold air slipping in past Malik’s shoulder as he stands there on the porch.
First thing Zane notices is the hat. Bright green and orange.
Zane squints at it. “Fuck you wearing?”
Malik reaches up, tapes the brim like it’s nothing. “Committed this morning.”
Zane blinks once. Then again. “Miami? I thought you were Florida State through and through.”
Malik shrugged, slipping past Zane to enter the warmth. Zane closed the door behind him. He was shrugging his arm out of his jacket when he spoke again. “I don’t know man, Miami was offering me more incentive to roll.”
Zane stepped to Malik and pulled him into a quick dap, firm and real. “That’s huge, nigga. Congrats.”
Malik smirks slightly. “Glad the shit is finally done and decided with.”
The house is quieter than it used to be, but not as hollow as it was a few weeks ago. The TV is on low in the living room - some daytime show murmuring in the background. A blanket is folded neatly over the arm of the couch now instead of tossed aside.
Mary is sitting there, upright this time. She looks over as they walk in.
Malik straightens a bit. “Mrs. Jones."
Mary gives him a small nod and a gentle smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Malik, how are you doing baby?”
Her voice is soft, but it’s there. Couldn’t say the same not too long ago. Zane notices that.
“She eat today?” Malik mutters under his breath as they pass.
Zane shrugs slightly. “A bit, she’s trying.”
Malik nods, like that’s something.
They head down the hallway to Zane’s room. Zane drops onto the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees. Malik leans against the wall, arms crossed, scanning the room for a second before settling.
The silence isn’t awkward anymore.
Malik breaks it. “Early signing period coming up, bro.”
Zane exhales through his nose. “Yeah.”
“You signing or you going to wait?”
Zane shakes his head immediately, almost instinctively. “I don’t know, man.”
Malik tilts his head. “You still don’t know?”
Zane leans back slightly, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve never felt less sure about anything.”
Malik watches him. Zane runs a hand over his face. “Feels weird leaving right now.”
He gestures vaguely toward the rest of the house. “Like, it feels like I should be staying put now.”
Malik nods slowly. “For your grandma?”
Zane nods once. “Yeah.”
Malik pushes off the wall and walks a few steps into the room. “She wouldn’t come with you? Lord knows a school would put her up somewhere nice if that’s what it took to get that signature.”
Zane shakes his head. “I brought it up to her a few days ago. This house just means too much to her. My dad was born here. Her and gramps bought this place together ages ago and never planned to leave. It’s a no-go.”
Malik lets that sit for a second. “Then you have to figure it out. Can’t just pause your football career because you can’t make a decision.”
Zane looks over at him. “Just like that, huh?”
Malik doesn’t smile. “I’m serious, man. You’ve been waffling long before you had an excuse - all the respect to Mr. Jones.”
Zane’s jaw tightens slightly. Malik shrugs. “You staying here doesn’t fix what happened.”
“And leaving doesn’t mean you’re abandoning her either. We got planes now, nigga.”
Zane looks away. Malik steps a little closer, lowering his voice. “Plus, you think he would want you sitting around here, making your decision based on grief and a sense of duty?” he said, nodding his head upward.
That lands. Zane’s eyes flicker, just for a second.
Malik nods like he sees it. “Exactly.”
The room goes quiet again. From the living room, the TV laughs at something. It sounds out of place.
Zane leans forward, elbows back on his knees. “Bianca went back earlier this week, eh.”
Malik nods. “Yeah, she told me she was heading back earlier this week when you were still borderline comatose.”
Zane can’t hide the smile building on his face. “Fuck you” he jokes.
Malik snickers to himself before he notes Zane’s smile fading.
“Shit’s been weird since she’s been gone. I can barely get her on the phone.”
Malik raised an eyebrow. “Oh word?”
“I try to engage in conversation when we do, but man, it’s fucking tough. I think it’s pissing her off now.”
“She say that?” Malik folds his arms across his chest.
“She doesn’t have to - Bianca ain’t exactly the best at hiding her disdain for things.”
Early Signing Day hovered like a storm cloud on the horizon, every conversation about football bending toward it eventually. Coaches checked in constantly. Reporters sniffed around. Expectations pressed down from every direction, squeezing the joy out of something that once felt pure.
Most players his age had committed, decommitted, and committed elsewhere at this point. Zane remaining mum on where he was signing was a rarity, behind the glints and glamour of NIL deals and plushy social media photoshoots.
Through it all, Zane couldn’t help but think about his grandfather.
The house still felt different without him - too quiet, too hollow. Like the warmth had leaked out of a door left ajar. The radio in the garage sat silent, the autoshop’s scent of oil and metal still clinging to Zane’s clothes from the last time he had been there.
The night he had been shot had split Zane in two. Part of him still waited to be thawed from that moment, with fear running through him that the melting would never truly commence.
Malik let the silence sit, thumbing through his phone when Zane noticed his eyes bulging on whatever he was looking at. Zane’s brows knitted together, before nodding in his direction
“What’s good?”
“Nigga, you gotta see this.”
Zane crossed the threshold of the kitchen to where Malik was, glancing down at his phone. He froze.
BREAKING: Michigan Head Football Coach Sherone Moore Relieved of Duties Amid Allegations of Criminal Activity Involving Staffer
Zane stared at the screen, reading and rereading the headline, his pulse quickening.
“What?” he whispered.
He took Malik’s phone and began reading. He scrolled. More details. More speculation. Words like investigation, suspension, immediate dismissal flashing past his eyes. Michigan. Bianca. Everything tangled together in a sudden, dizzying knot.
His first thought wasn’t football.
It was her.
He imagined Bianca waking up in Ann Arbor to chaos - students buzzing, group chats exploding, uncertainty flooding a place that had already begun to feel like home to her.
Quietly, another thought crept in.
I can’t possibly consider going there now, can I?
Michigan already didn’t sell themselves well to Zane, obviously insinuating that he would just be another number on the roster whereas, acting like there was barely enough interest to garner a scholarship offer in the first place.
Zane lowered himself onto the couch, phone heavy in his hand. The house felt impossibly still, as if even the walls were waiting for answers he didn’t have.
***
The library is almost silent. Rows of desks stretch out under soft overhead lighting, most of them empty at this hour. Bianca sits tucked into a corner near the back, her laptop open, a textbook spread out in front of her with highlighted lines that blur together the longer she stares at them.
Her AirPods hum softly, Sabrina Carpenter playing low in her ears.
She flips a page. Reads the same sentence again. Nothing sticks.
Her pen taps lightly against the margin, then stops altogether. She leans back in her chair, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her palm.
“Okay … yeah, we’re done,” she mutters under her breath.
Her phone buzzes against the table.
She glances down. It’s Darius.
you seen the news?
Bianca frowns slightly, pulling one AirPod out.
what are you talking about? she types back.
The response comes almost immediately. A link.
She taps it. The page loads, and her eyes scan quickly - headline first. Then slower. Then again.
Her back straightens. Sherrone Moore - fired. Bianca blinks, her eyes moving line by line now, actually reading.
She scrolls. More details. Quotes. Speculation. Charges allegedly looming.
Her lips part slightly. “...holy shit,” she whispers.
She leans back again, the chair creaking softly, one hand coming up to rest against her forehead.
Even she knows what this means. Coaching staff turnover. Recruiting shifts. Uncertainty.
Zane.
Her eyes flick down to the timestamp. Hours ago. Her stomach drops. She immediately backs out of the article and opens her messages.
Zane’s name sits there. No new messages. Nothing.
She stares at it for a second longer than she means to. Maybe he hasn’t seen it. Her fingers hover over the screen.
How could he not? This is the kind of thing that blows up. Teammates, coaches, social media - someone would’ve told him.
Her thumb taps into the conversation. The last few messages sit there, spaced out. Short. Uneven. Nothing like before.
She swallows. Maybe he did see it and just didn’t reach out. That thought sits heavier.
Bianca exhales slowly, her shoulders sinking as she leans forward, elbows on the table. Her phone rests between her hands now.
She types. Stops. Deletes. Tries again.
did you see the news about Michigan?
She stares at it. Then hits send. The message delivers instantly. She sets her phone down, but her eyes don’t leave it.
The library feels even quieter now. Her textbook sits open, forgotten. The music still plays faintly in one ear, but she doesn’t hear it anymore.
Her fingers tap lightly against the table as she waits.
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 7892
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Nah, she's just a student with normal student issues. No sexuality finding, no hidden pregnancies, no ... sex work.-
Caesar
- Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16902
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Invictus
I thought this was a shot at Ms. Rosas because y'all keep saying she ain't straight and that is what she does for work but this must be throwing Skylar in there for that middle thing. Also, normal student issues? From WCW?Captain Canada wrote: ↑16 Apr 2026, 16:01Nah, she's just a student with normal student issues. No sexuality finding, no hidden pregnancies, no ... sex work.
Zane still going there. We see the play.
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Soapy
- Posts: 16695
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
Invictus
Caesar wrote: ↑16 Apr 2026, 17:52I thought this was a shot at Ms. Rosas because y'all keep saying she ain't straight and that is what she does for work but this must be throwing Skylar in there for that middle thing. Also, normal student issues? From WCW?Captain Canada wrote: ↑16 Apr 2026, 16:01Nah, she's just a student with normal student issues. No sexuality finding, no hidden pregnancies, no ... sex work.
I think this is the misdirection of the misdirection. He's going somewhere else.