"One!"
"Hah!"
"Two!"
"Hah!"
Rubin's voice rang out across the field, each command immediately followed by Lance's fierce battle cry. Drawing energy from deep within his core, Lance channeled his intensity with every movement, his body radiating raw determination. The sunlight seemed to pale in comparison to his fiery spirit.
The field was utterly silent.
A few players exchanged annoyed glances.
What was Lance trying to prove? This was just warm-up training. Why take it so seriously? His exaggerated display of passion not only drew the attention of the coaching staff but also set an uncomfortably high bar for everyone else. Now, the coaches' approving nods meant the rest of them would face harder scrutiny. Training camp had only just begun—if this was the standard, how would they survive the rest of it, let alone the summer camp?
Still, despite their irritation, the players couldn't help but be drawn to Lance's energy. Slowly but surely, their gazes locked onto him, and the fire of his youthful zeal began to stir something within them.
When Lance finally reached his physical limit, he stopped on his own terms—not collapsing like many others but standing tall, fists clenched, his chest heaving as he threw his head back and let out a victorious roar.
"Ahhh!"
The sound reverberated through the field.
"Ahhhhhh!"
In that moment, his raw, unfiltered passion ignited the spirits of everyone watching. He looked like a warrior, triumphant on the battlefield, standing proudly under the golden rays of the sun.
Patrick Mahomes was the first to leap up in excitement, letting out his own celebratory shout and clapping enthusiastically. Even Alex Smith, usually composed and reserved, joined in, applauding Lance's effort.
Well, maybe not everyone was thrilled.
Hunt, seated on the sidelines, was fuming. He hadn't expected to lose, let alone so decisively.
Dammit!
A short distance away, assistant coach Brad Childress removed his sunglasses, turning to Andy Reid with a look of amazement.
"Coach…"
Reid couldn't hide his grin. His expression said it all—this was more than he'd hoped for.
Perhaps the skeptics were wrong.
People had doubted the Chiefs' decision to draft two running backs, dismissing it as a foolish redundancy. But Reid now felt they'd gotten something special in Lance—not just a player but a leader. The composure and poise Lance displayed during the Crimson Tide's championship-winning drive was no fluke. His sheer presence had the potential to inspire the entire team.
Maybe, just maybe, the future of the Chiefs was brighter than anyone anticipated.
Lance, meanwhile, didn't linger in celebration. After exchanging high-fives with Mahomes and a few others, he quickly calmed himself.
He knew this was just training. There was no real reason to get too caught up.
But for Lance, training was sacred. Half-hearted effort during practice meant failure in crucial moments during games. Discipline now was the only way to ensure readiness later.
Taking a deep breath, Lance walked over to Travis Kelce, who was still seated on the ground, clutching his knees.
He extended a hand.
Kelce, surprised but smiling, grabbed it firmly and let Lance help him to his feet. Without missing a beat, Kelce pulled Lance into a hug.
"Hey, man. Expectations just got higher. That cool with you?"
His tone was light, teasing, but the camaraderie was genuine.
Lance patted Kelce on the back. "I'm more worried about your expectations keeping up with my pace."
Kelce burst out laughing, the tension melting away.
Clap, clap!
The sound of applause interrupted them. Rubin's gravelly voice followed.
"Alright, time for muscle stretches and cooldowns. Pair up!"
Kelce turned to Lance with a grin. "What do you say? Partner up?"
He glanced over his shoulder, spotting Mahomes heading their way.
Mahomes threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I get it. I'll find someone else."
Without missing a beat, Mahomes strolled over to Smith, his usual cheerful demeanor on full display. "Mind if we team up?"
Smith blinked, momentarily caught off guard. He and Mahomes were competitors for the starting quarterback spot, after all. The Chiefs' decision to draft Mahomes in the first round had placed Smith's future with the team in doubt.
Still, Mahomes' infectious grin was impossible to resist. Smith found himself smiling back.
"Sure thing."
Kelce chuckled, nudging Lance. "Your buddy seems like a fun guy."
Before Lance could respond, a wave of commotion broke out nearby.
A stunning blonde woman, dressed casually in a white blouse, jeans, and sneakers, strolled onto the field. Her confident stride and natural elegance drew every pair of eyes. Her wavy golden hair caught the light, framing a strikingly sharp and radiant face.
She was, in a word, mesmerizing.
The players erupted into whistles and catcalls, their earlier exhaustion momentarily forgotten.
Unperturbed, the woman met their stares head-on, her poise unwavering. As she scanned the crowd, her gaze landed on Lance and Kelce. With a smirk, she let out her own whistle, playful and taunting.
It was as if a queen had descended among jesters.
The field erupted with laughter and teasing, mostly at the expense of those who had tried—and failed—to get her attention.
"Better luck next time, guys!"
"She's got standards, and you don't make the cut."
Even Lance and Kelce couldn't help but laugh.
The woman made her way over to Reid, holding a clipboard. They exchanged a few words, the conversation clearly professional.
Curious, Lance turned to Kelce. "Who is she?"
Kelce, being the team veteran, had the answer.
"She's a new member of the medical staff. Her job's to monitor our physical data—prevent injuries before they happen, recommend targeted exercises, and analyze areas where we can improve. I saw her around the training facility back in Kansas City. Didn't expect her to join us here in St. Joseph, though."
Lance nodded thoughtfully. Modern sports were becoming increasingly data-driven, and preventing injuries was critical in the NFL. Having someone like her on staff could make all the difference during a grueling season.
Their conversation was cut short when Rubin's voice boomed once again.
"Alright, enough gawking! Let's get back to stretching. Looking like that? No woman here's going to find you sexy. You wanna learn something about charm? Look at Kelce and Lance—they're making sweat smell like roses!"
Laughter rippled across the field.
"And remember, guys," Rubin continued, "brains are the new sexy. You missed your chance to show off like Benedict Cumberbatch. All you've got left is your muscles. Don't screw it up!"
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Powerstones?
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