American Football: Domination

"Ah! Ahhh! Ahhh!"

Felix screamed at the TV, losing himself in the frenzy, like a madman set free.

Karen wept.

All week, since his brush with death, Felix had smiled, joked, played strong. "I stole some time from Death," he'd teased, comforting her with the lie, repeating it until it almost sounded true.

But she knew better. He was scared. And so was she. Each hiding it from the other, afraid that showing weakness would break them both.

Now, finally, he let it out. His fear, his longing, his desperate will to live, all poured out in raw shouts.

The sound burned her heart.

She cried with him, shouting too. The fight isn't over.

Arrowhead roared the same.

The stadium throbbed with the force Lance had unleashed, a tidal wave of energy sweeping through the stands.

Mahomes met Kelce's gaze. No words, just understanding. They knew why Lance burned so hot. They knew the truth behind his fury. Death loomed. They were small, powerless to change it.

But that didn't mean surrender.

Their voices joined his, defiance carried to the skies.

Thunder shook Arrowhead.

"…Ladies and gentlemen, that is Kansas City's answer."

"The Colts opened with a clean, ruthless touchdown drive, Andrew Luck reminding the world why he's elite."

"And the Chiefs answered in kind—a thunderbolt, seventy-five yards in seventy-five seconds, capped by Lance's signature rushing touchdown. A hurricane. Blink and they were gone."

"Magnificent! Ten out of ten!"

"We knew Kansas City's offense was deadly, but this? The Colts defense looked helpless, outmatched, flattened. The gap is staggering."

"And look at Lance—he's still hungry. He wants more. The Colts are trembling."

"Wait—hold on. Malik Hooker, the Colts' safety, looks shaken. Was it on that tackle against Lance?"

Lance: What? I didn't do anything…

Players gathered at the goal line, faces grave. Hooker slumped, dazed, staring blankly. Trainers rushed in. Initial word: ankle injury, unclear if just a sprain or something worse. He couldn't stand. The cart rolled out.

"A brutal blow for the Colts."

"For Hooker, devastating. He dreamed of proving himself today against Mahomes and Lance. And now—it's over."

Hooker: Stop talking…

Five minutes gone, and chaos had already broken loose. This was playoff football—faster, fiercer, relentless.

7–7.

Two touchdowns traded. Now Luck's offense returned, and Kansas City's defense took the field.

Chris Jones steadied his breath, eyes locked on Luck.

They all knew the truth: pressure up front was everything. Luck could break a game by himself. He'd already stared down J.J. Watt three times this season and survived the storm, leading Indy past Houston in the Wild Card with authority.

It wouldn't be easy.

Jones remembered Lance's words: Be patient. There had to be more to it.

Up above, in a luxury suite, J.J. Watt and his brother T.J. watched.

Derrick was absent, prepping for tomorrow's Chargers game.

T.J. tilted his head. "What do you think?"

J.J. considered, then nodded. "Too early to say. But one thing's certain—the league still underestimates Kansas City's defense."

T.J. smirked. "Oh? You sure this isn't just you wanting revenge by proxy?"

J.J. didn't flinch. "Isn't that natural?"

T.J. groaned. "And people call you noble. If they only knew…"