"Yo, yo yo YO! Peter Parker makes his grand entrance—the Chosen One, the Chosen One!"
"Wait, wait a second—wasn't the Chosen One supposed to be Tim Tebow? You sure that's a compliment?"
Kansas City, Chiefs training facility. When Lance appeared on the practice field, the players immediately erupted in cheers and banter—buzzing with excitement.
During the short break, Lance had made a trip to New York. The result? The entire North American media cycle went into a spin, flooding with nonstop headlines about him.
First, there were stories of Chinatown turning into a tourist hotspot—"that magical experience when Lance took your order and served your food." Then there was the Madison Square Garden incident, where fans swarmed around him, and the now-iconic high-five with Steph Curry mid-game.
But above all, the story that exploded most?
Lance saving a five-year-old child from a crushing crowd—like New York's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man—preventing a tragedy before it happened.
It lit a fire.
First, Lance led the Chiefs in a comeback victory over Brady—the dark overlord of the northeast. Then he stepped in to protect an innocent New York kid. Those two moments pushed him to national prominence, capturing hearts across the board, even among non-football and non-basketball fans.
Just take a look at the New York Times sports cover:
"Lance: New York's Peter Parker?"
Alongside it, a photo of Lance cradling the child tightly in his arms.
In just a few days off, Lance had gone viral—again.
This week was meant for rest, a break before the Super Bowl spotlight returned to Kansas City and the Philadelphia Eagles. The NFL wanted to shift attention to the Pro Bowl and let other players get their moment.
Instead, Lance was once again dominating every corner of the internet.
Back on the practice field—
"Kong! Rookie Kong! King Kong!"
Kelsey pounded his chest like a gorilla and let out a bizarre roar.
Everyone else stepped aside, looking at him with sheer disdain. Left alone in the middle of the field, Kelsey blinked innocently.
"Hey..."
"HEY!"
"Rookie—Kong. Kong—Rookie. It fits perfectly, right?"
Lance walked toward him completely unfazed, arms open, inviting the teasing. His relaxed attitude only encouraged more players to pile on. Kelsey was soon abandoned as they all gathered around Lance instead, looking even more pitiful.
Lance grinned. "You know, Kong wasn't very popular in New York."
Nearby—
"Exactly, Travis. Watch more movies, man."
"Shouldn't he be reading books instead?"
"As if he can stay awake five minutes into a book."
Laughter exploded.
Kelsey, unfazed, looked around at the group and shrugged. "Come on, that was a secret. And for the record, I never told them you were illiterate."
Even more laughter.
Just then, Childress arrived at the field—and this was the sight that greeted him.
The Kansas City Chiefs, back in the Super Bowl for the first time in half a century, looked unified and fired up. Not overly tense, but razor-focused.
They were ready.
Whew.
Childress exhaled quietly, preparing to step forward, but Eric Berry beat him to it, stepping into the sunlight casually and shouting out:
"Hey, guys! You got room on this train for one more?"
Every head turned.
"Oh my God—Eric!" "Look who it is!" "The king of the defense finally rejoins the crew!" "A little late, sure, but we'll let it slide for you." "I've been sharpening my blades. You sure those old joints are ready?"
Jokes, teasing, light-hearted jabs—Berry was instantly surrounded, as if he had never missed a step. The defensive captain was back where he belonged.
Houston, watching from the crowd, was deeply moved.
Veterans know—injuries change everything. Even if you recover and return, your body is never quite the same. It's part of the game. Part of life.
—Every player has gone through it, is going through it, or will.
Thousands of thoughts swirled on his tongue, but Houston only asked, "You ready?"
Berry grinned. "Someone's already showing signs of fatigue. Justin, you good, old man?"
Houston lifted one very specific finger.
Berry laughed louder. He looked radiant—until his eyes found Lance.
Amid the mass of muscular bodies, that baby-faced smile stood out with its innocent charm. But on the field, Lance became a beast. Anyone who underestimated him would pay dearly.
Lance gave him a look and nodded slightly. A grin spread across his face.
"See? Told you—we could do it."
That bet. Berry hadn't forgotten.
He had always believed this day would come. Even if he couldn't fight alongside them on the field, he stood with the team every step of the way. But when the Chiefs actually made it to the Super Bowl, it felt unreal—like it might all vanish like a dream.
24 hours. 48 hours.
Now, finally, Berry believed.
Looking again at Lance's glowing smile, Berry's heart soared. He wanted to say so much—but all he did was extend his right hand.
They clasped hands.
Shoulder bump.
Back slap.
Thud. Thud.
Berry looked Lance in the eyes and said simply:
"Good job."
That was enough.
Just as Lance was about to joke back, he caught a fleeting shadow on Berry's face—regret, sorrow.
The smile stayed, but a weight lingered between his brows, like a thin cloud over sunshine.
Lance froze.
Then instinctively looked past Berry's shoulder—and saw Childress.
The coach stood awkwardly behind the group, eyes downcast, shoulders slumped. When he noticed Lance looking, he quickly turned away.
A bad feeling struck Lance like lightning.
He didn't want to believe it. Couldn't. The smile froze on his face as his gaze darted back to Berry, filled with disbelief and rising dread.
No. No way…
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Powerstones?
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