American Football: Domination

Huff. Huff.

Heavy breathing, sweat pouring, the sound of pounding heartbeats echoed against eardrums.

Lance and TJ each rolled over and sat on the ground, neither rushing to get up, quietly staring each other down. Their eyes sparkled with fierce resolve and raw intensity—unyielding in a direct clash.

Sparks flew.

Then—

Lance pushed himself off the ground and stood first, barely steadying himself when TJ also popped up with a grin, looking straight at Lance.

Their gazes met briefly. Neither said a word, simply turning to rejoin their teams. Both were already ready for the next clash.

The fire of battle was lit.

This drive started deep in their own territory. The Chiefs were once again dangerously close to their end zone, recalling the earlier safety. But with just one ground play, the Chiefs escaped the red zone and quickly entered neutral territory—highly efficient.

Then—

Hunt came onto the field.

But Lance didn't leave. Instead, a wide receiver subbed out. The Chiefs were actually opting for a two-running back formation again.

Immediately, Tomlin glanced over at Reid—what exactly was Reid up to?

Tomlin quickly reacted, signaling furiously to calm his defense:

Stay cool. Focus on your assignment. Don't fall for it. Don't let them control the tempo.

The Steelers still held the advantage and could not let the opponent dictate the pace—

First came Lance's unexpected power run, and now Reid was deploying dual RB tactics to inject variability—an obvious attempt to disrupt rhythm.

The Steelers needed to stick to their plan and maintain control of the tempo.

In the first quarter, Pittsburgh focused on blitzing, but to little effect.

In the second quarter, they dropped the blitz and keyed on receivers, yielding better results.

And just moments ago, another blitz was countered by a long ground gain. Though every situation differed—did this mean Pittsburgh should abandon the blitz?

At least today, the blitz hadn't paid off.

Tomlin's eyes narrowed. He waved his hand:

Back to coverage.

The blitz hadn't been effective, but that didn't mean Tomlin was giving up. He just needed a better opportunity. He couldn't let Mahomes regain rhythm or confidence, or else it'd be a repeat of that dreadful first quarter.

Just—not now.

The game had become a tightrope again, Pittsburgh's advantage was slim. They needed to keep control in this chaos.

So, regardless of Reid's schemes, Pittsburgh's defense aimed to maintain their form from the second quarter.

But—

Two running backs?

Tomlin couldn't quite grasp the logic behind this formation at this field position. His instinct leaned toward a pass.

Both Lance and Hunt were capable receivers—using them to unlock short passing zones made sense, especially with the Chiefs' aerial attack stalling.

In short, the Steelers would stay the course.

Keep an eye on Lance.

Tomlin relayed this immediately to his linebackers via headset, took a deep breath, and refocused on the game.

Snap!

Mahomes turned and—without hesitation—handed the ball off to Lance again.

A second straight ground play?

Tomlin furrowed his brow, eyes fixed on the backfield.

Wait—the middle?

Not only Lance, but Hunt also surged forward into the middle of the line, clearly looking to pave the way—trying to punch open the A-gap.

The middle? Really?

Watch it!

Tomlin remained calm. His linebackers would close fast, Burnett had Lance locked. Big yardage wasn't likely. The concern was if the middle broke open—

Before the thought even finished, Tomlin took two urgent steps forward, questioning his eyes—

Lance?

Indeed, Hunt had rushed forward into the scrum, bodies clashing red-on-black. Linebackers joined the front, a chaotic brawl at the line of scrimmage.

But Lance didn't.

Lance and Hunt had executed a silent misdirection. In the cluster of red jerseys, with limited vision, none of the linebackers or linemen noticed Lance slipping out the back door.

In the storm of motion, Lance light-footedly backed away—clearly mimicking a quarterback.

Lance was scanning the defense, taking on Mahomes' role.

What—!?

Tomlin's heart burst. The haunting memory of the Chiefs' Super Bowl "Special" flashed back. His scalp tingled. His limbs went cold.

And Pittsburgh?

They hadn't caught on.

At least, not immediately. Just like Tomlin, they hadn't expected the Chiefs to break out a trick play at this moment:

1st and 10. Own half. Midway through the third quarter. Only trailing by 9.

It was a tight game, yes—but nowhere near do-or-die territory.

A trick play?

Too sudden!

Like Pittsburgh's three gutsy 4th-down attempts in the second quarter—it broke the rhythm instantly.

The Steelers were caught flat-footed.

Some defenders focused on the trenches. Some thought Lance was about to run. Some were still looking for the ball.

The chaos fractured their reaction.

One second.

Not even a full second.

But that's all Lance needed.

Backpedal. Adjust. Pause.

Observe. Analyze.

Now Lance faked a QB run, prompting linebackers, corners, and safeties to all lean forward in anticipation. Their body language unified in a forward-pressing stance.

But then—

Lance halted, pivoted, shuffled laterally to the left pocket.

Twist, arm up, release.

A blur.

A perfect arc soared high, painting a dazzling streak through the air.

The fangs had been bared.

Forget Pittsburgh—even Arrowhead was in shock. No one saw this coming. Collective disbelief swept through the stadium.

Felix's jaw dropped, eyes bulging as he tracked the ball's arc, his heart soaring with it.

The Super Bowl memory flashed.

"The Chiefs' Special! Lance's target is—"

Hill?

The Chiefs' top receiver blazed down the sideline in a red blur like a wild mustang, tearing through the Steelers' secondary. Safeties all sprinted toward Hill.

But—it was a decoy.

The real target was…

Patrick Mahomes.

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Powerstones?

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