Date: Saturday, 7 March 2026
Location: Ewood Park
The wind bit harder inside Ewood Park than it had outside. Narrow tunnels always held the cold tighter. It pressed in like breath behind the collar.
Jake walked in first—shoulders squared, coat half-zipped, no clipboard, no expression. His boots tapped low against the cement floor, echoing faintly off the walls. No theatrics. Just that silent, unfussed authority that came after forty-plus matches.
Behind him, the squad filtered in with lighter energy. Roney had his hood up but kept nudging Richter in the ribs about the playlist blaring from the portable speaker—some heavy techno loop that felt more like a car alarm than music. Rasmussen chimed in from across the room with mock outrage: "This is war prep, not a club night!"
Richter grinned, unbothered. "Wait till I score, then we'll see if it's the music."
