Each boy remained on the turf, caught in each other's gaze. BT shook the strange feeling off first and got to his feet. It wasn't a stalemate, he had won, obviously. Even if it wasn't a touchdown, it was still a monstrous gain. … The pass must've been behind him, he must've slowed, and Ty would've been pushing beyond his limits for one last ditch desperate attempt. That's why Ty tagged him.
Ty watched BT return to his huddle. A hand came down by Ty's face, he took it and stood. Zayden helped him to his feet.
They said nothing as they separated, going off to the huddle, each on their own despite their proximity.
The Monarchs and Dons soon lined up against one another. Ty and BT continued to stare in silence. The air had shifted.
Ty's legs burned so hotly he thought his cleats would melt. Sticking with BT at that distance wasn't good enough. He needed to be close enough to snatch the ball from the air, not swipe a heel.
BT looked beyond Ty; the tracks behind him were too short. The Bullet Train would remain in the station. The pass went to the opposite side of the field.
With how close the Monarchs were to the end-zone, Deshaun was forced up close, having to press his man at the Line. It was easy for the Monarchs' Receiver to blow right by him, and the ball was waiting for his Fade in the corner of the end-zone.
Touchdown Monarchs. The successful extra point pushed the score to 14–7. The following kickoff was another touchback as Chris once again grounded the ball in the end-zone.
Ty's legs were grateful for the rest. The fire burning them up dissipated, but the inner turmoil remained. He needed to be faster. Faster than he'd ever been before. And if he could just slow down the Bullet Train, a step or two was all he needed to drag him down.
The Dons' power heavy offence was back on the field, and still in full force. Chris was given the ball to start off the drive, and JJ still led the way for another strong run.
The Monarchs swarmed, but were beaten back, and even when Cameron came into the game to give Chris a rest, or JJ took the ball himself, the Dons powered ahead through the swarming gnats.
Having Chris and Cameron swapping in and out every few runs was a big key to their success. With those twin engines powering the offence, it meant they always had a fresh one after letting the other refuel for a moment.
The Dons powered across half-field. Across the Monarchs' 40, even their 30. As they neared the red-zone, they stalled.
The Monarchs used their speed not to swarm, but still overwhelm, as they drove JJ's block aside from different, wide angles.
One LB would hold his attention up front, and another would sideswipe him. A third defender would come in from the cleared side and take Chris down.
A gain of 3 yards wasn't the end of the world, but it was the shortest run of the drive. The next play, the Monarchs tried the same. JJ, expecting it, turned and met the sideswiper. But the Monarchs still had numbers.
Whilst there wasn't a clear path for the third defender to come in from behind the sideswiper, with JJ's attention already occupied, the opposite side was wide open. A fourth monarch came racing through, heading straight for Chris just as he exited the gap.
With JJ and the blockers he held up congesting the field, Chris could only swerve towards the oncoming tackler and hope to get around them. The Monarch snagged his hips and dragged him down. The run gained 2 yards.
With five yards left to go for a first down, the Dons tried Play-Action. Jay looked Cole's way. Cole swerved inside, then out. The CB guarding him had already been favouring the inside just in case he had to go after the run, and the Play-Action got him to bite.
Cole was open. He might even get to scamper away for a touchdown. Jay lobbed the ball over. It floated in the air, and in the time it took to reach Cole's hands, the CB had recovered and interjected his arm into the mix, dislodging the ball from Cole's grasp before he could sink his fingers fully into the ball.
They tumbled to the ground; the ball bounced free. The pass was incomplete, and the Dons—pushed to fourth down—would have to settle for a field goal. Thankfully, it was successful and cut the lead down. Anything was better than nothing.
The Dons' kickoff sailed out of the end-zone, and the Monarchs' offence took the field, looking to extend their 14–10 lead out to two possessions.
Ty and BT stood facing one another, the strangeness still surrounding them. Everything else was muted and dim. It felt like it'd been an hour since their last face-off, but at the same time, it felt like they'd only taken a single breath since then.
BT had been thinking a lot since his last catch. Brett's pass had been on time, like usual. He hadn't slowed, not even to showboat. That bad habit had been smacked out of him long ago. He should've had another touchdown. It just didn't make sense. Ty wasn't faster than him. He'd prove it a hundred times over if he needed to.
Maybe Ty was never that far away, and it had been BT's eyes that had deceived him … but that didn't make sense either. Ty should've been left in the dust.
The ball was snapped. BT was a split second late on reacting, and Ty's spear found him before he could get out of the starting blocks. He was smothered, and couldn't even leave the station before the ball was thrown away; the Dons had covered every Vertical route well.
BT shrugged it off and shook his head. He was distracted. That one didn't count. He wouldn't be distracted next time.
They lined up again. BT was scowling this time. Ty was impassive. He felt fresh. He was warm; embers piled up in the soles of his feet, ready to ignite at any moment if he needed to blaze away and burn a path down the sideline next to the Bullet Train again.
The ball was snapped. BT leaned outside, but shifted his feet and pushed off to the inside. Ty's spear whizzed by like a bullet, but the Bullet Train was already blasting into top speed.
Ty turned, lunging as he did so, trying to cut BT off. They ran side by side, close. Ty kept up for a time, then BT reached top gear and started pulling away.
Zayden, who was in more of a central position, splitting his focus on both sidelines, rushed over to aid Ty. Brett saw, but threw the ball. There was space to the outside, so he used that.
BT looked back, frowning as he saw the flight of the ball, but he veered towards it. Ty followed, did he gain a half-step? BT shook the thoughts off and focused on the ball.
The ball drifted further outside, and BT drifted with it. He stretched out, catching the ball, but his foot landed well outside the field of play.
Zayden and Ty pulled up short as BT ran into the safe arms of his teammates on the bench and they held him up. The pass was caught, but it was still an incompletion, and the Monarchs were pushed to third down. Brett apologised when BT returned to the huddle.
JaMychal mumbled something about their shit passing and how useful it isn't, but he was ignored. Of course, with 10 yards to go to earn another first down, running was out of the question.
The Monarchs had to pass. Ty and BT would battle again.
Ty's spear struck a glancing blow across BT's shoulder. Zayden shifted towards that side as BT fought through and got side by side with Ty, but he could never get into stride, never pull away.
Brett looked elsewhere, the opposite side of the field. Deshaun was lost, going deep when his man slammed on the brakes for a Curl. The pass was easy, and even though Deshaun recovered to take the Receiver down before they could break away into a sprint and turn the completion into a long gain, the 11 yards were still enough to earn the Monarchs the first down.
As the clock ran, the game rolled into the two-minute warning. The quarter had passed quickly, with the Dons' long, gruelling drives took up most of it.
BT thudded onto the bench, muttering that he could beat them. Coach Kirby stood before him. 'That double team's back,' the coach said. 'It's not as blatant, but you've definitely got the attention of that Safety.'
'I can beat that Two-Face motherfucker,' BT growled.
'You could. But there's a pretty easy way around it, from what I can see.'
BT raised a brow. Coach Kirby grinned down at him.
With the Dons, Coach Hoang came to Ty. He could practically see the dark cloud hovering above the boy's head.
'Hey, chin up, that last play was good,' Coach Hoang said. 'That's all you need to do to shut this one-trick pony down, just get a hand on him. You can do that right? Or are you really THAT outmatched?'
'Bullshit,' Ty said, glaring at him. 'I'm fine. That fucker is just fast … even when he's standing still, he's fast. I didn't expect him to be that explosive, but now I know what to expect. He's easy to shut down.'
Coach Hoang didn't look convinced, but he nodded. Donte sat nearby, the dark cloud extending over his head as well.
Every play was the same when the Monarchs were passing. No matter what he tried; sprints outside, a bull rush through the middle, squeezing through the inside, and an assortment of double-moves, swim moves, and spin moves, nothing had worked. Even with the Monarchs' QB holding onto the ball for an age every play, he could never get around the LT. It was like he was so wide he made up the entire O-Line himself.
The break was short enough that none of the tension faded as the teams met each other again. Ty stood before BT, watching him closely. It didn't matter how fast BT was, if Ty stopped him before he got going, it was over.
Brett looked over, then tapped his foot behind him. BT—a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth—turned and jogged towards Brett.
Ty blinked. He'd been so focused he'd forgotten about the Monarchs' penchant for Jet Sweeps. He hurried across the field as BT's jog grew into a run, then a sprint just as he reached Brett and the ball was snapped.
Brett turned, and BT snatched the ball as he flew by. Ty raced after him, trapped on the other side of the Lines.
Donte saw an opening as the usually stoic, impassable Shaq tried to shift outside and seal the edge. Donte snuck through the gap and … and a breeze blew by him. Before he could even reach out, BT was gone.
BT turned upfield as soon as he got past Shaq. Ty lunged, but his fingers only brushed BT's jersey as he rushed by. The Bullet Train was already at full speed, and it looked unstoppable.
Zayden put his head down, sprinting back. From his central position, he could cut off the Bullet Train, but he'd have to give up some ground first and force him out.
BT saw the Don encroaching on his peripheral vision, and swerved. He tried cutting back inside, but at the speed he was going, the movement was sloppy.
Zayden pounced and wrapped around BT's hips, tangling up the Bullet Train's wheels, sending it crashing. The clock ran. The Monarchs had gained 18 yards, but BT had wanted a touchdown.
The Monarchs didn't call timeout. They didn't even have much urgency as they huddled up again. It was a quick huddle, but still.
Ty and BT were soon opposite one another again, BT barely breathing any differently.
'Running away from our race?' Ty said.
'Blame Two-Face for getting involved. Though, you should thank him. You know you can't catch me in a normal race, anyway.'
Ty scowled, but BT was moving away before he could get another word in. The ball hadn't been snapped; he was moving in motion again. It was another Sweep!
'SWEEP!' Ty called out. JJ echoed the cry. The defence shifted over, Zayden hurried down. The ball was snapped, BT blew by Brett, but this time he didn't snatch the ball.
Brett moved past BT, looking at JaMychal. He extended the ball to the RB, but even that was a fake as he turned around, ball still in his grasp.
The Dons were in disarray. BT turned upfield, running without the ball. Ty gave chase; he was still a threat for a pass. Zayden shadowed them. But that wasn't where Brett was looking.
BT clearing out one side of the field had left a gaping hole in one half of the Dons' defence. The perfect place for a Monarch to fill.
Deshaun pumped his legs as he chased his man across the field. The hair on the back of Ty's neck raised as they both rushed by. His head whipped around, following the Post route. Still running with BT, he looked at the QB. Brett's eyes were following Deshaun's man. He drew back and heaved the ball over.
Ty broke out of his sprint and veered towards Deshaun. The ball reached its apex, then plummeted, completing its rainbow arch. The Receiver slowed a step and caught the ball on his chest.
Deshaun lunged at him, snagged a leg. The Receiver kicked and stomped, dragging Deshaun until he broke free. He stumbled into the red-zone and straightened. No one was ahead of him. He could walk into the end-zone, but he'd run. Coach Kirby would have his hide otherwise.
Like a lion attacking its prey, Ty pounced. His hands latched onto the Receiver like claws sinking into flesh, and he tore him down to the turf. They tumbled down inbounds, barely over 10 yards away from the end-zone after the 40-yard bomb.
The official's whistle blew as the Monarchs called timeout. Deshaun picked himself up and jogged over to Ty, offering him a hand. Ty took it and stood; he wouldn't have caught the Receiver if Deshaun hadn't held him up.
The two exchanged a nod but no words, not even a smile.
Coach Hoang was irate as the defence returned. 'What the hell was that? They're making you look like you're all freshmen playing your first game of JV. Don't let that happen again! Stop fixating on one thing and be adaptable. Flow with the game and don't get caught off-guard by the simplest changes.'
His glare found Ty and Zayden.
'I hope you've figured out there's more than one threat on the field.'
Ty looked across the field. Stopping the Bullet Train was the only thing he had to worry about. He thought Coach Hoang's words were for Zayden alone. "Good. Stop getting in my way."
The quick break allowed both teams to catch their breath. Soon enough, the Dons and Monarchs charged back onto the battlefield. The Dons with their backs against the wall.
Even though there was just over a minute remaining, they knew a minute could stretch into an eternity, especially when you had to hold back an offence like the Monarchs from breaking down your door, and they were already on your doorstep.
'Looks like your whole team's a bunch of slowasses,' BT said, laughing in Ty's face.
'Who cares about anyone else?' Ty said, black eyes narrowing. 'It's just your speed against mine. As soon as I outrun the Bullet Train, everything else will crash and burn, too.'
'Hah. Just try to keep up.' BT took off towards Brett again, sprinting straight out this time. Ty chased after him.
Cries of sweep sped across the field, even Dons fans in the stands warned their team. But could it be another fake? Ty banished the thought from his mind. It didn't matter what happened, his job was to catch the Bullet Train. But Zayden hesitated, the possibility of a fake pinning him in place.
BT snatched the ball again and sped away from Brett even faster than he'd approached. Ty's teeth squeezed his mouth guard until it almost popped. Full throttle, he pushed himself into the red.
Donte jumped out in front of the speeding Bullet Train, one hand reaching out. But he was overeager, too focused on tackling the ball; he'd forgotten his man. Shaq flattened him and cleared the tracks for BT.
Grinning, BT rushed away from the Line into open air. He cut upfield before meeting Deshaun, then edged towards the sideline. In full flight, he was little more than a blur as he passed by opponents and teammates alike.
Still, Ty laid out, diving through the air. If he could just get a hand on him … his fingertips brushed through a loose fold of BT's jersey as it flapped in the wind.
Ty crashed to the turf, and BT ran on, unimpeded. The Bullet Train raced into the end-zone for another touchdown before hurdling over the low barricade, landing amongst his fans, BT let their praise and cheers drown him.
Ty watched, fire and steam rushing from his legs all the way to his skull, filling his whole body to the point he thought he'd burst.