SteVo+ 3,702 Posted September 30, 2016 | | | | Knights of Andreas Part V Based on Characters Created by: badgers Bangy Barracuda Bay BigBen07 BradyFan81 BwareDware94 CampinWithGoatSampson Chernobyl426 CrimsonRaider DonovanMcnabb for H.O.F eightnine FartWaffles Favre4Ever GA_Eagle JetsFan4Life Maverick RazorStar Sarge seanbrock SteVo Thanatos Turry theMileHighGuy Vin Zack_of_Steel Chapter Sixty-Four – Final Warning The team captains meet at midfield inside Lucas Oil Stadium as the referee details the rules and regulations for overtime. The Colts win the toss, earning the first chance to break the 16-16 tie. The Knights defense confidently retakes the field. The only touchdown they allowed today was on a ridiculously short field thanks to a Maverick interception, and they’ve handled Indy’s offensive line from their 3-4 enough to let Harden dial back on the hybrid. The Colts make the mistake of trying to win the game quickly, and Andrew Luck gets sacked twice, once by Sam Luck, prompting a wave of horrible puns and bad jokes from both sidelines and the crowd. The Knights take over, the game now in sudden death. Players in the huddle look nervously toward Maverick, in the middle of his worst game in years. He never seemed to recover from throwing an interception on the game’s first play, missing open receivers and throwing into coverage all day. Jameson takes a few carries through the heart of the Colts defense, gaining enough yards to make McKenzie call his number again. Jameson is over thirty carries today, but McKenzie doesn’t care; he’ll ride him all the way to a game-winning field goal if it means a win. The Colts finally cue in and stack the box, bringing up third and five. Maverick drops back to pass, tracking Bishop. He sets his feet, throws, and the ball hits Bishop’s feet, bouncing off the artificial turf. Maverick keeps his head down on his way to the bench, just wanting this game to end. With subpar play from both quarterbacks, overtime continues the punt-filled field position battle that dominated the fourth quarter. With each failed offensive drive, everyone in the stadium looks up at the game clock, considering with increasing seriousness the implications of it reaching zero without a score. The Knights begin another possession with 3:26 left. As tired offensive players lean in to the huddle, Maverick screams, “This is it! No more fucking around! We’re winning this damn game, and we’re winning it on this drive. Let’s go!” Noticing Maverick’s intensity, McKenzie goes against his gut and calls play-action. Maverick sells a handoff and hits Bishop over the middle for fifteen yards. The next play, Maverick drops back and fires a bullet toward Watson. Twenty yards downfield, Watson catches it and plants his feet along the sideline, setting up the Knights on the Colts’ forty-yard line. McCabe warms up on the sideline as the Knights inch closer to field goal range. Jameson takes his thirty-sixth and thirty-seventh carries, bringing up third and three. Pass rush forces Maverick to throw it away, and the clock stops at 1:09 as McCabe comes on for a forty-nine-yard attempt. From the left hash, the kick booms the ball toward the goal posts, clearly long enough, and strikes the netting. The Knights rush onto the field in celebration, slowed by a swell of crowd noise around them. They look toward the goal posts, where officials indicate no good, wide left. The game remains tied, and the visitors’ sideline slowly repopulates. Knowing only an interception can win it now, Harden has his corners and safeties jump routes, not caring if someone gets beat deep. A tie is the same a loss to him. Luck throws short passes, Lucas and Schwinn each getting their hands on one but not catching it. The Colts manage one first down, but with 0:09 on the clock and the ball sixty yards from the end zone, it’s Hail Mary time. The Knights back up and spread out into a rarely used prevent formation. Flash, Stone, and Wilkes stand at the goal line, ready to swat away a jump ball. Luck takes the snap and the Knights rush five. This flushes Luck from the pocket, rolling right with Grantzinger closing in. He bombs it as blue and white jerseys converge in the end zone. “Short! Short!” “It’s not gonna make it!” Everyone runs past the goal line, where Flash leads a crowd jumping for the ball, tipping it backward into the end zone. It sails toward Wilkes, who extends his hands as a Colt tips it again, and it lands out of bounds. Everyone looks up at the clock: 0:00. Knights 16, Colts 16. A strange sight and mood hangs over the stadium as players and coaches shake hands. Both teams exhibit a sort of tired indifference, walking emotionlessly into the locker rooms, as if no game was played at all. Maverick and Wilkes frantically tap buttons on their PS4 controllers, playing another close game of Madden. Between plays, Wilkes looks around the mansion, which appears dirtier than usual, something he gladly uses as fodder for trash talk. “You’d think your ass could have cleaned up a little bit.” “Maybe if you hadn’t invited yourself and just showed up.” “Hey, you promised me a rematch.” A few minutes pass as they focus on the game. Maverick (playing as the Eagles) is beating Wilkes (playing as the Seahawks) 14-7. “You ready for Rose this week?” Maverick asks. “Oh, Imma get his ass good.” “Really? Okay, I’ll hold you to that.” “I’m more worried about you. What happened yesterday?” “Had a bad game, that’s all. I’ll be back next week.” Wilkes’ finger slips, calling the wrong play as he hears footsteps coming down the stairs behind him. “Didn’t realize you had company,” Wilkes says. “Like I said, if you hadn’t invited yourself…” “Jon,” a female voice says. “Yeah?” Maverick says without turning his head, focused on the game. “Do you have any orange juice?” The play ends, and Wilkes turns around, freezing in place at the sight of her walking past in a bra and underwear. “I think so, Trish. Check in the fridge, bottom shelf inside the door.” Maverick calls the next play, realizing Wilkes hasn’t touched his controller. Mesmerized, his eyes follow Trisha as she walks into the kitchen. Maverick snaps his fingers in Wilkes’ face. “Hey! Hey!” “Yo…” Wilkes says, shaking his head. “Yo, man…yo…” Trisha undoubtedly looks good in underwear, but Wilkes finds it impossible to focus on that aspect of the situation. Other thoughts run through his head, none of them appealing. “Just keep this between us, okay?” Maverick says. A bug-eyed Wilkes says nothing, redirecting his vision toward the TV screen, where he calls a punt return, not realizing Maverick is going for it on fourth down. Flash spends another Monday afternoon driving south on I-5, escaping Los Angeles and coasting along the Pacific Ocean. He exits the highway, navigating a string of turns he now has memorized, toward a gated community. The guard recognizes him, and he soon pulls into the driveway and rings the doorbell. “Not late for dinner, I hope,” Flash says as the door opens. “Somehow, you’re early,” Malik says. “Girls! Uncle Griswold is here!” Flash says hi to Eva and the girls before Malik shows him outside to the veranda, overlooking the adjacent golf course, with the blue water of the Pacific in the distance. “So, I guess I’ll see you Sunday, huh?” Flash says. “Yup. Tell D-Jam I’m comin’ for his ass.” “Tell him yourself.” “One of these days, Eva and I have to come up to your place for dinner. It’s not fair, you always driving two hours.” “What for? I won’t be in L.A. much longer.” “True.” “Hey, about that…did you talk to anybody?” Malik nods his head, looking off into the distance. “I did. I’m not sure it’s gonna happen.” “What? You said they’re probably letting Weddle go.” “I think we are, but I don’t know if they want to spend more money in the secondary. We need some run defense.” “Man…Who knows where I’ll end up, then.” Flash looks away, not wanting to contemplate a future he always assumed would include San Diego. “I guess the good thing about L.A. is being so close to here,” Flash says. “You gotta get past that.” “What do you mean?” “Start a family of your own, Griz. How long have I been telling you? Eva and I love that you visit so much, and the girls love it too, but you can’t be making decisions based on me. I didn’t pick San Diego so I could stay in touch with you, no offense.” “What other offers were out there?” “I don’t think about it anymore.” “You mean staying in the same division as the Knights didn’t matter at all?” Malik looks away. “Maybe a little.” Knights fans may have felt uncomfortable after the tie in Indianapolis, but the post-week 14 standings show the team still in a good spot. The Knights lead the wild card race at 8-4-1, a half-game advantage on the Steelers and Jets, both 8-5. The only other wild card chaser with a winning record is the Knights’ opponent this Sunday. The Chargers appeared poised for a lost season, falling to 2-4 after their trip to London and 3-5 a few weeks later. But they’ve since won three of four, within two games of a playoff spot at 7-6. Between some offseason preparation with Stein, Phillips finds time to visit Keegan’s office, knowing the two have a big day in a few weeks. Keegan will present to Schneider a culmination of his efforts, a metric for each position that considers all aspects of a player and synthetizes it into one overall rating. If it goes well, Keegan could play a significant role with the team’s decision making this offseason. Phillips feels optimistic. He trusts Keegan’s numbers because they confirm many things he has witnessed on the field this year. In most cases, they uncover something Phillips hadn’t noticed, and very rarely does he disagree with them. “Everything will be finalized by tomorrow,” Keegan says, “except quarterback. But everything will be ready for the meeting.” “Why the delay with quarterback?” “It’s a difficult position to evaluate. It’s not equal-weighted efficiency, like everything else.” Fascinated as always by Keegan’s rationale, Phillips asks, “Why not?” “Think of it this way. A QB might make two bad throws out of forty in a game, only five percent, but if those two are interceptions, that’s not a good performance. It’s a position that demands incredibly high success rates.” “Fair enough.” Phillips lets Keegan get back to it and finalizes his offseason report with Stein. He finds the perfect time to give it to Schneider, so that Stein isn’t there. Schneider, however, is busy working the phones. He hangs up another call just as Phillips throws a packet of paper on his desk. “More preparations,” Schneider says. “Only 55 days now.” Phillips looks at the countdown on the wall, realizing how quickly this season has gone by. “I won’t have time to sink my teeth into this until later, so give me the highlights. Free agents?” “We’re gonna play the market with Zeitler and Lechler. Jameson too, probably, but you know how I feel about running backs. I’d consider him already gone, honestly.” “Lecher is one of the best punters in the league, Chance.” “And if I feel we can draft his replacement without a serious downgrade and then spend that money elsewhere, it’ll be worth it.” “What about Johnson?” “Which one?” “Both of them, come to think of it.” “It’ll be a surprise if Alex is ready for week 1. Replacing him is more important than retaining him at this point. As for Flash, I want him back, but he seems intent on leaving Los Angeles. Franchise tag could be in play.” “Oh, that reminds me.” Schneider skims through the contact list on his phone and finds who he’s looking for. “Hello?” says a voice through the speaker. “Michal, it’s Wayne. My office. Now.” “Is this about his metrics?” Phillips asks. “No. Something more important. It’s probably best that you’re here, actually.” Phillips feels nervous now, no idea what Schneider is talking about and confused by Keegan’s involvement. Keegan knocks on the open door, and Schneider waves him in. “Michal,” Schneider says, “put your metrics on hold. I need—” “They’re pretty much done anyway.” “Michal, listen to me. I have a new project for you. It’s a little outside of your comfort zone.” “Okay.” “In a few weeks, I am going to meet with thirty-one owners. We will be reviewing relocation proposals, and Los Angeles is going to come up.” Phillips jumps in. “So it’s getting serious. Rams and Chargers?” “Yes. Inglewood and Carson. Official proposals got quite the reception a few weeks ago. Anyway, Michal, the Rams and Chargers are going to try to persuade the owners that a second team in Los Angeles is a good idea. I need to persuade them otherwise.” “Do you want me to present other cities as viable options?” “If you have time. The primary goal is to prove the city of Los Angeles cannot support two NFL franchises. I’m going to send you a lot of information I have, and I want you to get started immediately.” “No problem.” Phillips watches Keegan leave for his office, impressed. The fact that Schneider is calling on Keegan with such an important task is surprising and satisfying. Phillips would rather Schneider respect Keegan for his football chops, but it’s a start. “This is really happening, isn’t it?” Phillips asks. “Not if I can help it,” Schneider says, “but I’m not optimistic. You’ve heard me talk before about how fragile a market this is. Things are only stable now because we’re winning. Remember how close we came to losing sellouts a few years ago? Imagine another team drawing fans on top of that.” Phillips doesn’t want to, the gravity of everything finally hitting him. These are unpleasant questions to ask because they almost certainly have unpleasant answers. Even worse for Phillips, as much as he wants to help, this isn’t his battle to fight. The Knights finish another day of practice with the San Diego playbook nearly mastered, dressing in the locker room before reporters are granted access. About half the players take advantage of their option to leave early. Only a few reporters show up today, knowing good quotes will be hard to come by. Those who do aim for Penner, who has not been practicing and is listed as questionable for Sunday, with his shoulder iced and in a sling. Javad, however, heads elsewhere. He’s got a plan, and he’s getting straight to it today. He roams on the defense’s side of the room, thankful his target is still here. “Hey, Flash, got a minute?” Javad asks. “No recorder.” Flash purses his eyebrows, not sure what a journalist is doing interviewing a player if not digging for quotes. “Uh, sure,” he says, sitting down. Meanwhile, Maverick speaks quickly with a few reporters and finishes, left alone. A few teammates head his way and talk in hushed tones. Randall: “You’re crazy, Mav, you know that? Crazy and stupid.” Maverick: “What, D-Jam told you guys? Already?” Grantzinger: “Never mind him. What’s your problem?” Maverick: “What? I did something wrong?” Randall: “You’re an NFL quarterback with a hundred-million-dollar contract, living in Los Angeles.” Maverick: “And…” Randall: “You can bang any actress, any supermodel you want, and you go for Trisha Harden?” Maverick: “Worry about your own personal lives. I can take care of myself.” Jameson: “Can you take care of Coach Harden too?” Martin: “You’re not gonna try to keep this a secret, are you? I mean, shit, he probably already knows.” Maverick is ready to keep going, but Flash starts screaming from across the room. “NO! DON’T TELL ME THAT! DON’T COME IN HERE AND TELL ME THAT! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” Flash thrashes at the reporters still left, and players get in front of him, trying to clear the room at the same time. A few coaches run in, Harden included, just as the reporters leave. Flash still flails around uncontrollably as teammates try to calm him down. “Relax, assholes!” Harden says, getting between Flash and others, but the commotion continues. “SHUT UP!” That gets everyone quiet. “What in fuck’s name is going on?” “So, wait, what happened?” Schneider asks. “A reporter got Flash riled up,” Harden explains to Schneider, Phillips, and Stein in the owner’s office. “Apparently he was giving him some nonsense about how we were gonna trade Rose in the offseason before we cut him.” “Which reporter?” Phillips asks. “Couple players said it was Adam.” Phillips looks down, desperate to avoid Schneider’s glare. “Is he still here?” Stein asks. “Flash? I don’t know, I hope not.” “No, the reporter.” “I think so. Security pulled him in for questioning after all the nonsense.” “Good,” Schneider says, sitting back and relaxing his posture. “Alright, let’s figure this out.” Harden nods and walks away. “Hey,” Phillips says, “not gonna help us sort this out?” “I have an appointment,” Harden says flatly, disappearing through the doorway. “What’s this Javad guy’s deal, anyway?” Stein asks. “He’s a press contact of mine,” Phillips says before Schneider can get the jump on him. “We used to work really well together. I gave another reporter the scoop on an offseason story, and he took it personally.” “Which story? Why’d you screw him?” “All due respect, Allan, I don’t have to tell you the answer to either of those questions.” Phillips’ anger surprises himself, but he can never let Schneider (or anyone) know the real story behind Javad’s grudge. “Enough,” Schneider says. “Let’s stay on point.” “Yes,” Phillips says, pointing his entire body towards Schneider as if Stein isn’t in the room. “He’s taken an aggressive anti-team stance, which has gotten him some readers, I guess, but…Well, I should have settled it before things got out of hand. It’s gone on long enough. It has to stop.” “Indeed it does,” Schneider says. The guards still won’t let Javad leave. He’s about to initiate another around of pleading when the door opens, and Phillips walks in, alone. The head of security gets up to leave, but Phillips waves his hand. “You stay, Kinsey,” Phillips says. “I want you to hear this.” Javad watches one guard stay while the others go, leaving three of them in the room. “What’s going on, Chance?” Javad asks, standing up. “This is over,” Phillips says. “This back and forth between you and I, it ends right now.” Javad glances between the two men, uneasy. He has to figure out what Phillips is up to before knowing how to respond. Phillips puts his hand on the table and grabs the lanyard sporting Javad’s press credentials. “These are no good anymore. Kinsey? This guy tries to enter the building, you turn him around right away.” “What?!” Javad says. “You can’t do that.” “You will not set foot in this locker room. You will not be present for press conferences.” “Freedom of the press, asshole. Amendment number one.” “The MedComm Center no longer recognizes the L.A. Mobile as a major news outlet, so, right now, you’re on par with a high schooler doing a paper for his English class.” “Chance, what the fuck—” “I don’t enjoy doing this, Adam. We had a disagreement, fine. It happens. You be a man and get over it. Instead, you insist on playing games. Did you ever think there would be consequences?” “I can fight this. You can’t just shut me out of this building. I’ll be back in.” “After a while, sure. And in the meantime, you’ll miss out while the regular season goes down to the wire and into the playoffs. Not a good time to take a vacation.” Javad breaks eye contact. His eyes dart around the room, in thought, as if he finally understands the gravity of the situation. He refocuses as Phillips steps closer to him. “I told you not to fuck with me,” Phillips says. “Consider this your final warning.” Kinsey escorts Javad out of the building, without his credentials. Javad wears his disappointed face out the door until he gets to the parking lot, and it turns into a smirk. Phillips, finally able to take some deep breaths, rides the elevator to the second floor, walks to Schneider’s office, and falls into the chair across from his desk. “Taken care of?” Schneider asks. “Wouldn’t expect trouble from him anytime soon.” “Good. I know you don’t particularly enjoy dirty work like this, Chance. But just remember how this situation started.” Phillips nods. As much as he would like to blame Schneider—or blame anyone, really—this situation was his doing from the beginning. At least it’s finally over. “I have an idea,” Schneider says. “You ever watch Mad Men?” Confused, Phillips watches Schneider extract a small key from his desk and reach into a lower drawer, unlocking it and taking out a pair of medium-sized crystal glasses. “Name your vice,” Schneider says. “You too?” “I’m holding two glasses, aren’t I?” “Scotch, then.” Schneider unveils a bottle from the desk and pours both glasses about half full. Phillips grabs his and takes a swig before they toast to anything. They both sip their scotch for a few minutes, looking through the wall-to-wall windows towards the city skyline. The audio at Knight’s End alternates between Broncos/Steelers and Jets/Cowboys, each game in its closing minutes. The early round of week 15 games is wrapping up, and Chargers/Knights is minutes from kickoff. From their high top, Cooper and Sampson tap away on their phones, analyzing the league’s standings with games going final and checking their fantasy teams. “I guess Pittsburgh winning isn’t the worst thing,” Sampson says. “Drops Denver by a game.” “I gave up hope on the division weeks ago,” Cooper says. “They’ll fuck it up. Besides, the #5 seed is better.” “Going to Houston or Indy definitely sounds good, though we did just go to Indy, and…” “Or Jacksonville. They’re a game out of first.” Sampson laughs. “If the Jaguars make the playoffs, I’m shaving my beard.” “That’ll be the day.” Employees around the restaurant switch TVs around, changing the channels on almost all of them to the local CBS station broadcasting the Knights game. “So, I was thinking about something,” Sampson says. “God help us.” “Farmers Field. I want to go back. Haven’t been since ’12.” “So go then. Do you need me to sign a permission slip?” “You should come with me.” “I’m blacklisted, dumbass. Remember?” “Of course I remember. Okay, let’s go through this again. You go streaking, banned from the stadium for life. But you want back in, so, you use the fact that you know Merle Harden—which still blows my mind, by the way—and you’re back. But it’s in a luxury suite and you have to wear a disguise. You don’t like it very much, so, here we are.” “Yup. That sounds about right.” “So, what if I buy the tickets?” “What if…wait. What?” “What if I buy the tickets? How are they supposed to know you’re there? As far as they’re concerned, it’s two tickets under the name ‘Cassie Sampson.’ They don’t have your face on a wanted poster. Just keep a low profile and you’re good.” Cooper goes through every part of that scenario in his mind, picturing himself walking through the Farmers Field concourses again, trying to find the problem—but there isn’t one. “Holy. Shit.” Sampson smiles and raises his glass. “Sound the alarm, baby. Jay Cooper’s coming back to Farmers Field.” Cooper sure likes the way that sounds. He feels stupid that he somehow never realized this before, but who cares? “Damn, no more home games this year,” Cooper says. “Playoffs?” “Way too expensive.” “True. So we’ll wait for next year’s schedule to come out, pick a game or two. Shit, I gotta start saving money.” “Start? What do you spend your cash on besides beer?” “More beer.” “Touché.” They clink their glasses and drink as the sound from Farmers Field fills the bar. Penner jogs onto the field for warm-ups, thankful to finally be rid of the shoulder sling. There’s a slight chill in the air, another welcome change, reminding him of Canada. A lack of snowy football games is about the only bad thing about playing in Los Angeles. He runs through drills with the rest of the offensive line, feeling his shoulder tighten as he runs around. No problem, he just needs to get it loose. The five linemen transition to blocking drills against backup D-linemen. Penner leads with his left shoulder, letting the other get warmed up, feeling strength return to him. When he tries leading with his right shoulder, he gets shoved back, losing his footing and falling down, a rare sight that gets everyone’s attention. He tries again, staying on his feet this time but gaining no leverage. Trainers eventually take note and force him back to the locker room for evaluation. Penner walks into the empty area reserved for injured players as a trainer massages his shoulder. He ignores the pain. “Just need to get it right,” Penner says. “You can’t go,” the trainer says, shaking his head. “The hell I can’t. Just loosen it up, asshole.” “It’s not going to loosen. It needs to heal, Brian. It needs to rest.” “Bullshit. I haven’t missed a game in years.” The trainer looks around for something, while Penner refuses to confront the possibility of not playing. He’s getting on that field. They just need to figure something out. “Here,” the trainer says, grabbing a weight from nearby. He places it in Penner’s right hand and straightens his arm. “This is twenty pounds. Standard curl. Lift it.” Penner grips the weight and pulls. Pain flares up in his shoulder and shoots through his arm. His muscles flex but can barely move the weight. He stops, breathes, stretches his fingers, and grips it again. The weight comes up a few inches before Penner’s arm buckles. His hand tenses up. The weight slips out and bangs against the floor. “You’re out, Brian,” the trainer says. “I’m sorry. I’ll go tell the coaches.” Penner grabs his throbbing shoulder, unsure what to do, alone in the trainer’s room with no sound save for his breath. He hasn’t had a nagging injury like this since his last season in Buffalo, and even then, he played sixteen games. He always told himself he’d retire when the time came, though this season has definitely been sudden. Last year he was his dominant self for nineteen games. He can’t make excuses. If it’s time, it’s time. Philip Rivers leads the Chargers onto the field. On the Knights’ sideline, Maverick takes practice snaps from Adrian Dunn, third-round rookie and starting center as of twenty minutes ago. By the time he and Dunn feel comfortable with each other, the Chargers have a 7-0 lead. The Knights take the field. Around the stadium, more eyes than usual divert from the quarterback-center exchange, honing in on a receiver/corner pairing. Wilkes lines up and stares down Rose with a smile. The first few plays go away from Wilkes, who runs quick routes, Rose staying closer to him than any corner he’s ever played against. He’s practiced against Rose, though, and he knows he can wear him down eventually. He can beat him. The punt team comes out, though, so Wilkes waits. Harden attacks San Diego’s injury-riddled offensive line with blitzes, and the Knights rebound after their first drive, only allowing one first down. McKenzie gets the ball back with good field position and feeds Jameson. He plans on staying conservative today because run defense is San Diego’s weakness. Besides, there’s no sense in a pass-first attack against Rose, Jason Verrett, and Eric Weddle. Jameson finds plenty of running room. Banks eventually spells him, also gaining yards with ease and getting the Knights into field goal range. Wilkes finally hears his number called and lines up casually. He runs sideways, then cuts upfield, Rose right with him. The pass goes elsewhere and lands incomplete as Rose stares Wilkes down. Neither says a word as the field goal unit comes out, and the Knights are on the board. In the second quarter, the Chargers run more screens and misdirection on offense, an obvious attempt to get their pass game going and slow down the Knights’ blitzes. Harden has played plenty of chess matches with Daniel by now and is unafraid of any adjustment. The Knights put together another run-heavy drive ending in a field goal, and spirits are high on the sideline despite a 7-6 deficit. McKenzie hears Wilkes chirping about getting more looks but ignores him. In the half’s final minutes, the Chargers find traction in the run game, thanks mostly to a few missed tackles by Martin, who Harden promptly chews out. After crossing midfield, Rivers drops back and floats a perfect pass for Keenan Allen, who beats Lucas in coverage for the touchdown. Farmers Field is quiet and nervous as the Knights go into the locker room down 14-6. McKenzie lays the groundwork for an offensive explosion in the second half, but he can’t get things going. Wilkes is still blanketed by Rose, freeing the Chargers from the burden of double-teaming him, something every other defense has been forced to do this season. The Knights offense is reduced to a series of frustrating three-and-outs while the Chargers extend their lead to 21-6. McKenzie draws up a few plays to get Watson and Bishop involved, but pass protection falls apart in front of Maverick, who takes two sacks before the Knights punt again. Unrest fills the stadium. It is 28-6 by the time McKenzie feels completely hopeless. Without Penner, the offensive line is wearing down. Rose and Verrett are shutting out Wilkes and Watson. Bishop is the only reliable offensive target, and he’s unable to get first downs by himself. Meanwhile, the Knights defense is crumbling. The Chargers pick up nearly every blitz perfectly, allowing Rivers to have his best game of the season, tearing apart the Knights’ secondary one throw at a time. Harden expects a quiet fourth quarter, but the Chargers maintain aggression after taking over with about ten minutes to go. They mount another effective drive with fans heading for the exits, adding another touchdown to make it 35-6. Harden understands. In fact, he agrees with it. This is payback for London. Well, London was payback for the AFC Championship Game. Now there must be payback for this. But it will have to wait. Fans stick around for the end of the 42-6 defeat not out of optimism, but to enjoy the Knights’ last regular-season minutes in Farmers Field. They finish their schedule with two road games, now only able to make the playoffs as a wild card, where they will need further victories on the road to return to this stadium in February. Javad wakes up at 5:33am and instinctively checks for a text from his section editor, which he has finally received: “Last edit good. Article goes live around 5.” He springs out of bed and fires up his laptop, reading a few more unhappy texts from his editor-in-chief. Javad’s absence at the MedComm Center hasn’t been good for the Mobile’s sports coverage, but he is about to be vindicated. Ever since Phillips rebuked him in the offseason, he has worked every source he had and pursued new sources all over the country. Some good and bad luck later, he has found the big story he wanted. Somehow, he never thought to consider if he was looking in the wrong places. He brings up the Mobile’s web site, and there it is, front and center, with multiple links to the sports page. It’s a lengthy headline, but it works: “Sources: Knights had Maverick trade in place before Rose incident.” He clicks on the link, arriving on the article’s main page, which boasts a beautiful split-screen image. On the left: Maverick during a game, helmet off, sweaty, hands on his hips. On the right: Phillips during a press conference, wiping his forehead, slightly frustrated. Javad proudly reads the article’s opening paragraphs again: The Los Angeles Knights had a trade in place that would have sent Jonathan Maverick to an NFC team for multiple draft picks, sources within both organizations have confirmed. The deal was apparently abandoned after the Knights were forced to release Malik Rose. 5 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
RazorStar 4,025 Posted September 30, 2016 Oh man the cat fight is getting too real. 2reel5me. 1 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Bangy 19 Posted September 30, 2016 (edited) Oh shit this is about to get interesting. Javad found out about Maverick, Harden hasn't found out about Mav/Trish and Penner being done. Also Is Jaxson injured or some shit because he hasn't been mentioned once in either of the two game!!!!! WHERE'S JAXSON Edited September 30, 2016 by Bangy Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
BigBen07 285 Posted October 1, 2016 And the dominoes are about to fall... Well done, Stevo Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Cherry 1,302 Posted October 1, 2016 Oh shit this is about to get interesting. Javad found out about Maverick, Harden hasn't found out about Mav/Trish and Penner being done. Also Is Jaxson injured or some shit because he hasn't been mentioned once in either of the two game!!!!! WHERE'S JAXSON At least in his dreams he was the starting returner. Now he's not even that. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
SteVo+ 3,702 Posted October 6, 2016 Bumping this now because I'm about to post the next chapter. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Zack_of_Steel+ 3,014 Posted March 25, 2017 Woo, I was right. Phillips needs to straighten up. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites