Invictus

[Captain Canada]

Nothing like bringing two enemies together than beating the shit out of a common enemy. Or getting your ass kicked in the same manner. Either way.

You see the vision

Zane bout to get curb stomped then watch them run a train on Bianca in an alley

You been talking to Caesar too much lately, huh

[djp73]

[Caesar]

Zane ain’t never fought and we know his pappy ain’t no stepper. Wealthy Coke Whore about to watch her man get his ass beat

[Soapy]

I can hear the saxophones playing already

[Captain Canada]

Zane ain’t never fought and we know his pappy ain’t no stepper. Wealthy Coke Whore about to watch her man get his ass beat

Rasheed got a whole criminal history, but just because he got one body he didn't intend to get, he ain't no stepper?

Zane might be a kind soul, but my boy still 6-foot-3. Manchild type.

I can hear the saxophones playing already

[ShireNiner]

People are underestimating the internal anger these guys have. They need to let it out somehow and these clowns about to get it.

[Captain Canada]

People are underestimating the internal anger these guys have. They need to let it out somehow and these clowns about to get it.

Finally, someone who gets it

[Captain Canada]

Season III | Chapter XVII - Something To Prove

The cold hit different the second they stepped outside. It wasn’t just the temperature - it was the shift. The energy. The way the noise from inside the bar dulled behind them as the door swung shut, leaving only the hum of the city and the tension crackling in the air.

The two groups squared off on the sidewalk. Malik and the tattooed guy were nose-to-nose, voices low but venomous, words overlapping as neither one wanted to give an inch.

Zane stepped in closer, jaw tight. “Man, y’all are fucking idiots,” he snapped, looking at the tattooed man. “You really want to start some shit because your feelings are hurt?”

He shook is head, frustrated. ‘Y’all really can’t wait to get your ass kicked tomorrow on the field. You can’t wait, fuck it, run those fucking hands, pussy.”

The guy smirked, taking half a step closer. Behind him, his boys shifted, ready for the tide to turn. Zane’s peripheral vision caught movement. He glanced over.

Bianca stood a few steps back with her arms folded tight across her chest. Her expression wasn’t fear or concern.

It was disappointing. Frustration. The cold wind cut across the street, tugging at her hair, but she didn’t move.

She just shook her head slightly. Zane felt something twist in his chest.

It hit him. Not like a thought. A memory he didn’t live but somehow carried.

A bar. A confrontation. A moment that spiralled out of control. His father. Prison.

One bad decision that changed everything. Zane exhaled sharply, the fight draining out of his in an instant. He reached out and grabbed Malik’s shoulder.

“Yo,” he said, low.

Malik shrugged him off at first, still locked in. “Watch out, I got this-”

“Malik.”

There was something different in Zane’s voice. Malik looked at him. Whatever he saw there - something serious, almost pleading - it cut through the fog. For a split second, Malik wasn’t in Detroit anymore.

He was somewhere else. A story he had carried his whole life. A night that should have never ended that way.

Malik swallowed. His jaw tightened. Then he looked back at the Central guys. “Nah,” he said, stepping back slightly. “We’ll settle this on the field.”

The tattooed guy let out a laugh. “That’s what y’all on?” He looked back at his boys. “They backing out like the pussies they are.”

“Soft as hell,” another one muttered. Zane didn’t react. He just stared at them. The guy smirked one last time. He turned, motioning for his group as they headed back into the bar, laughter trialing behind them as the door shut.

The tension lingered for a second longer. Then it broke. Zane ran a hand over his face, exhaustion suddenly coming over him.

“So fucking stupid,” he muttered almost to himself.

“Yeah,” a voice snapped back. Bianca.

He turned. She was already walking toward him, anger written all over her face.

“What the fuck was that, Zane?” she demanded.

Zane held his hands up slightly. “Nothing happened-”

“Exactly,” she cut in. “Because you barely stopped it from happening.”

Zane frowned. “I defused it-”

“No,” Bianca said sharply. “You almost got into a pointless fight in a random bar the night before an important game.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it harder than if she had yelled.

“Do you not see how badly that could’ve gone?” He did. Hence why he stopped it. But, clearly she didn’t know that.

Bianca shook her head. “I’m not doing this tonight, Zane. What the fuck.” She turned slightly, motioning to her friends. “We’re leaving.

She looked back at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said. “When you get your act together.” She turned and walked off with her group. Zane stood there for a second, jaw clenched.

Cam shifted awkwardly nearby, rubbing the back of his neck. “Man,” he muttered. “That’s on me.” Zane didn’t respond.

The group slowly broke apart, heading back toward the hotel in smaller clusters. The night didn’t feel the same anymore.

***

Zane walked in silence. Beside him, Malik matched his pace. Neither of them spoke at first. Just the sound of their footsteps on the pavement and the distant hum of traffic.

“I went to see your Dad in prison before we left for here.”

Zane stopped for half a step. Caught off guard. He looked at Malik, who didn’t meet his eyes right away.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah?”

Malik shrugged. “Yeah.” They started walking again.

“And?” Zane asked.

Malik let out a quiet breath. “I feel stupid,” he admitted. “For letting all that hate cloud everything.”

Zane shook his head. “I don’t know if I would call it hate.”

Malik glanced at him. Zane kept his eyes forward. “That was grief, man.”

The words hung there. Malik didn’t argue. They walked a few more steps in silence. Then Malik spoke again.

“I was wrong,” he said. “For coming at you like that. I let that shit poison me.”

Zane waved it off. “It is what it is.”

Malik stopped walking. Zane turned to face him. Malik finally met his eyes. “You’re still acting way too soft.”

Zane blinked. “Excuse me?”

Malik tilted his head slightly. “I’m not into toxic masculinity by any means, but I heard you earlier,” he said. “Talking to Brock?”

Zane frowned. “What about it?

“You called him the best player on the team.”

“He is.”

Malik shook his head. “No,” he said. “He’s not. Don’t get me wrong - he’s important. Guy saves my ass on the daily, but.”

Zane scoffed, understanding Malik’s inclination.

“You could be the best player in the state, if you had any kind of initiative whatsoever.”

Zane didn’t respond. Malik’s voice dropped. “You just don’t play like it. You’re almost too passive. Too fucking nice. I thought it was fake when I fucking hated you, but you really are … just like that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You operate scared. I thought you just played it, but it shows up in so many facets of your life.”

Zane’s eyes flashed. “I’m not scared of shit.”

Malik shook his head. “Maybe not in the conventional sense, but you’re definitely scared. Scared of becoming something you don’t like.”

Zane froze, his breath being caught in the depths of his chest. Malik stepped closer.

“You think if you go for broke and dial into everything you want, you’re going to fuck up. Just like your Pops.”

Zane didn’t say anything. “That’s why you hold back.”

“I’m not holding back, nigga.”

Malik studied him. “Then why are you playing like you got something to prove to everybody else,” he said. “Over here, letting Cam get his shine, letting Kwon touch the ball 20 times a game. You refuse to take over.”

Zane didn’t have an answer. He thought he was doing the right thing. Being a team player. Doing the little thing.

Malik exhaled. “You’re so worried about going down the wrong path that you’re choosing not to walk at all. Soft, if you ask me.”

Malik gave a small shrug, watching Zane process. He turned and started walking again.

***

The stadium was alive. Not loud - alive.

The kind of noise that didn’t just sit in your ears, but settled into your chest. Bleachers packed tight, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, voices crashing together into one constant roar. The lights beamed down onto the field, cutting through the cool Detroit night, making everything feel sharper. Bigger.

Zane stood near the sideline, helmet in hand. He took it all in.

The turf beneath his cleats. The distant hum of the crowd. The way his heartbeat seemed to sync with the rhythm of it all.

This felt different.

His eyes drifted across the field and landed on him. Number 31. Blue jersey . Matching sleeves on his each arm with his jersey bunched at the buckles of his shoulder pads. Tattoos peeked just by the collar of his jersey like they belonged there.

Danny Anber. SAM linebacker. Same guy from last night. Danny glanced over and caught his eye, grinning at Zane. Not friendly or playful. Not even competitive at this point.

Zane didn’t look away, didn’t even blink. He slowly exhaled, letting the feeling sit in his chest.

Malik’s voice crept back into his head. You’re scared. Zane clenched his jaw.

Another voice. His grandmother’s. Go for broke, baby.

Then his father’s. Not loud or forceful. You don’t have to be me. But you don’t have to run from yourself either.

Zane swallowed. All of it circling. All of it pointing to the same thing.

Stop holding back.

His fingers tightened around his helmet. Across the field, Central Catholic’s defense huddled up, bouncing on their toes, feeding off the energy.

They were ready to hit. To impose their will.

Zane leaned into it. Dared them to try.

A presence came up beside him. Malik. Helmet on with his chinstrap unclipped. He didn’t look at Zane right away. He just stood there, breathing, taking it all in.

“You ready,” Malik asked, voice low, “to show them what you can really do or we still playing pretend?”

Zane took a breath. He slid his helmet on, sliding his clips to secure his chinstrap snug.

“Let’s get active.”

[ShireNiner]

Boooooo! I wanted to see them beat the shit out of those guys.

[Captain Canada]

Upper St. Clair outlasts Shamrocks in gritty shootout, Richards to Jones shines

By Andy Villamarzo
October 24, 2025

Upper St. Clair travelled into Detroit to take on the Central Catholic Shamrocks and delivered one of the most impressive displays of offense against one of the better team in the nation, outlasting them in an offensive shootout with a 52-48 victory, continuing to prove they are one of the more impressive one-loss teams in the country.

Quarterback Malik Richards showcased his impressive arm, throwing an eye-popping 448 passing yards and connecting with number one target, wide receiver Zane Jones, for his lone passing touchdown of the game midway through the first quarter. He was also able to display his impressive athleticism, taking off nine times for 89 rushing yards and a pair of short yardage touchdowns, allowing the Panthers to capitalize on redzone opportunities.

The most impressive part of this game was easily Zane Jones. He was relentless in his attack of the Shamrocks' secondary, dominating to the tune of 17 catches for 245 yards and his touchdown, in which he shook a Shamrocks' corner out of his cleats with a slick corner route, getting both feet in the back of the endzone when he only needed one.

Cam Wilson also put on an impressive performance with 8 catches for 101 yards, but was unable to finish the game with an upper body injury after sustaining a tough hit coming down with a ball along the sideline.

Running back Raekwon Williams was instrumental in the Panthers' victory with two touchdowns, performing amazingly with 140 all-purpose yards. On the defensive side, MIKE linebacker Luke Russell led the way, dominating the line of scrimmage with 9 tackles, 3 tackles for loss, and a key sack to keep the Shamrocks out of field goal range late in the fourth quarter.

This spells the end of the Upper St. Clairs inter-state schedule, ending up going 2-1. They will finish their season with a big home tilt against Mt. Lebanon.