The cheers of the crowd reverberated through the stadium as Falreath stepped into the sun. He held up his hand and waved as his body continued to jog to the center of the field. The sound grew as many stood in their seats with their arms waving. The excitement built as the fans cheered in anticipation.

Before him, his teammates began to stop and slowly formed a large circle. He jogged past the forming circle a few yards before he shot into a front flip with a half twist. His body coiled in the landing as his gaze locked onto the first teammate in line. Falreath exploded out of his crouch and rocketed forward at a half run. His hand moved out and slapped the back of his teammate, his momentum carried him around the outside of the circle. Of course, he made sure to slap the back of each member along the way.

Once he neared the end of the group, he pivoted and slammed the last teammate’s shoulders with both his hands. His teammate crouched down as he launched his body into the air. Falreath moved up and out in an arch over the man and paused for a moment in what appeared to be a handstand, before his body fell back to the ground.

The energy inside of Falreath built as the crowd ate up the show. He felt it apex as he jogged to the center of the circle to join the rest of the captains. In a moment of desire, he opened his mouth in preparation to roar. The crowd reached a fever pitch as he let out his shout. He felt the excitement of that moment emanate around him. Soon, each of his teammates were roaring in unison. The moment lasted for seconds on end as the crowd ate it up.

“Alright, move on,” Marcus yelled trying to get the attention of the team. Falreath didn’t even hear him as he continued his roar. Marcus shook his head and turned towards his friend; He brought his fist softly down on Falreath’s shoulder pad in an attempt to get his attention. Falreath, while still roaring, turned his head to face his friend. Marcus took a step back, his face hinted at confusion. Falreath blinked a few times before he stopped the roar.

In an eerie sense of unity, the rest of the team stopped almost at that exact time. “Let’s get to it,” Falreath ordered with a clap of his hands as if nothing was off. “Warm up time!” With that the team split into their pregame warmup, energized for the game to come.

***

Eldridge stood at the bus stop and stared at the Waylt Teer Gymnasium, the location of the game, and watched the crowds flow into the building. His thoughts still caught up in the events that have taken front and center in his life. A simple outing to a bar that led to spending the night unconscious in a forest. A trip to investigate a stolen laptop only to get attacked by wildlife. A night of coffee that held words spoken into his mind. He couldn’t discount that these odd events might be connected somehow. That or he really was losing his mind.

He let out one last sigh before he forced himself to take a step. “It will do you no good to keep reliving what you already can’t figure out.” He told himself. “Chief is probably right, focusing on the game will do your mind some good.”

He slipped into the crowd and let the noise call to his muddled mind.

“Next,” The young woman behind the glass spoke to call Eldridge forward. Her tone was one of resignation towards a task.

“Uhh, yeah…” Eldridge mumbled as he tried to remember what he was supposed to say. As he paused the lady shifted her position slightly and moved closer towards the counter. “Right, there should be a reservation for an Eldridge Skan made by Falreath.”

The woman, whose name tag read Kesha, sighed before she turned towards her computer. “How do you spell that?” her tone was slightly lower pitched than before.

“E L D, R I, D G E,” Eldridge slowly began spelling his name, his assumption of her request. Given she was typing as he spoke, odds were, he was correct. After he had given her his last name, she looked at the screen for a bit before she turned back to him.

“ID,” She said with her hand outstretched.

Eldridge pulled out his driver’s license and handed it to the lady. She examined it for a few seconds before she handed it back.

“So, what’s he like?” She asked, her tone continued to deepen.

“Hmm?” Eldridge muttered with a slight twist of his head, his hand subconsciously putting the card back into his wallet.

“Falreath, what’s he like?” Kesha asked, the words scrunched together, as her body inched closer to the opening. She reached for something while waiting for the answer.

“About what you would expect from a super competitive man.” Eldridge answered absently as he put his wallet away. His mind pulled back to the words he heard last night.

“Well, he sure shows results.” Kesha stated as she tore the ticket slightly before it finished printing and folded it. “Box 17c,” She announced as she handed it over. “See you around.”

Eldridge nodded as he headed into the structure, his mind mulled over the possibility he sent Dennis on a wild goose chase. Absentmindedly he followed the arrows to the c section of the stadium.

“Might be best if I took a few more days off,” He mumbled to himself.

“Ahh, Detective Skan,” A familiar voice called to him as he turned to walk up the stairs to the box seats. Eldridge turned his head to find Byung entering the same stairwell as him. “Can’t say I’m not surprised to see you here.”

“Mr. Kim, didn’t take you as a football fan,” Eldridge said, in an effort to break the ice. His mind is wary of Byung getting the wrong idea over his presence. After all, he has yet to find the laptop.

“Because I’m Asian?” Byung asked, a bit gruffer than before as he stopped next to him on the stairwell.

“What, no because you seemed like the work only type.” Eldridge replied a bit confused. “Sorry, didn’t mean to offend.” His eyes moved slightly toward the ground.

Byung looked at Eldridge for a moment. Uncomfortably, the silence filled the air between them.

“No harm done,” He finally said with a sigh. “Though I probably should get to my meeting, can’t have them waiting forever.” The man said as he headed past Eldridge.

Eldridge watched silently as Byung climbed higher and higher before he finally disappeared around a corner.

“You really made a mess of that,” Eldridge scolded himself before he continued his climb. With any luck he would be able to make amends when he found the laptop.

“Even more proof you need a day off,” He commented as he examined the arrows at the top of the stairs.

Taking note that box 17 would be to the right, the opposite of Byung. He exhaled, as he knew It was best to be far from that man currently. Anyone really, the less interaction with people the better he would be. With that thought he headed towards his seat.

He took a moment to digest the scene of the door before him. The sign above it read 17c, the only indicator he was at the right place. The rest of the wall was solid concrete, with a white stripe painted into the blue background. There was at least ten feet between the doors, with the only other thing on the wall being a scanner of some kind.

“Perhaps,” he mumbled as he took out the ticket from his pocket.

As he did, a few bits of scrap paper followed it out. He looked down at them for a second before he unfolded and examined his ticket. It held his box number, a picture of C preparing to throw, a list of the coming games, and a QR code for some advertisement in the bottom right corner. He turned it around and found some more advertisements printed on the back. He pivoted, seeking help, only to find no one else was in this area of the stadium.

With a sigh he grabbed the paper that fell from his pocket and turned back to face the door. He took in the scanner for a moment, looked back at the ticket, then placed the QR code under the scanner. The thing blinked red before he heard an audible click come from the door.

“They really could’ve told me that when I got the ticket,” He mumbled as he shoved the paper and the ticket back into his pocket. Gently, he opened the door and found the room beyond filled with twenty or so people.

“Ahh, welcome Eldridge,” Adel, Marcus’s wife, said as she pulled out a plate from one of the many ovens.

He nodded as he took in the rest of the area. Aside from the large kitchen, there were a few tables with lounge chairs around them, a large glass wall at the far end that peered over the field, and seats beyond that you could watch from.

Eldridge recognized a few of the people sitting in the chairs from events he’s accompanied C on. Most being family or friends of the major players. The chatter in the room was surprisingly minimal as most of the tables seem to have their own conversation going on. The rest of the people were staring out the window at the pregame warm up.

Not wanting to interact much, he walked over to the far table and sat down. His gaze turned towards the glass wall. The stands were alive with activity as it seemed like a cheer was erupting, even as others filtered into their seats.

On the field the Sparrows soon broke from their circle and began their stretches. Eldridge leaned back and the chair slowly reclined, the feet reaching out before him. Soon the restless night caught up with him and his eyelids grew heavy.

He startled awake as the room erupted in cheers which drew his gaze to the field down below. The ball was in midair as the teams scrambled to get under it. He turned toward the scoreboard and soon understood the game had just started. He looked at the rest of the people a bit confused at why they would cheer at a kickoff.

When he turned back to the field, he saw that the sparrows had a fairly standard return landing them about at the twenty or so yard line. As he shifted his weight forward, the chair responded and moved him a bit more upright. He had to, at the very least, watch the beginning of the game, as that would be when C was playing.

***

Falreath turned his head to get a feel of the field before him. The 3-4 defense started shifting to a Dime as his running back moved down the line behind him. Though it’d been a while since he played, he fell into the mindset quite readily. “Twenty-four, set,” The ball hit his hands and he moved on reflex and took a few steps back. The line before him clashed as the two sides fought for positioning. He scanned the field quickly on the lookout for any opening.

There, he thought as he saw an open receiver. His body acted as he subconsciously calculated the distance of twenty yards. The ball flew from his hands, flying into the air, over the heads of the line, the midfield and over the head of the targeted receiver. When it finally landed it was a good eighty yards away.

Falreath stood for a second as his team walked to huddle near him.

“What was that?” Craig asked as he jogged back in.

“I only throw touchdowns,” Falreath replied in a deadpan manner as his own mind tried to figure out why he threw so deep.

Craig looked at his quarterback before he shook his head. “Whatever, this is preseason I guess.” Craig finally replied as he took his place in the huddle.

Falreath turned to face the rest of the team and gave them the next play.

The ball once again hit his hands and Falreath was off running along the line, his running back an arm’s length or so behind him. He turned the corner on the line heading downfield. A few feet beyond the line of scrimmage his arm whipped as if to toss the ball to the running back. He quickly pulled it back in and tore down the field.

The whistle blew a few seconds later which drew Falreath up short. He turned around to find his running back had only run a few inches after receiving the ball before he was taken down. Falreath turned toward the clock taking note of the three that stood in the downs section of the board.

“I think you gave me a bruise,” He heard as he entered the huddle. His mind, however, was on the fact that he was having such a bad opening set.

“Craig,” He said as he turned towards the receiver. “I want you to go deep on this next play, I mean touchdown deep.”

Craig looked at him a bit confused but nodded.

“Good, as for the rest of you,” he said as he continued to explain his plan.

Falreath danced as he dodged the lineman who tried to make a play, his eyes locked onto Craig as he tore down the field. His mind replayed the throw from earlier in the day and calculated how long it would be before Craig was in range. Now! He thought as his arm threw in a similar fashion to the earlier one.

The ball flew out into the air, the arch nearly identical to the earlier pass. Falreath watched as Craig sped down the field and lined up for the end of the arch. “I only throw touchdowns baby!” Falreath screamed as Craig cuddled the ball and stepped over into the endzone.

The team surrounded him as the crowd erupted in the stadium. Falreath, though, contemplated the throws, and the strength he put behind them. His only guess was that his lifting had really been paying off. “I guess I should practice some to adapt,” He mumbled to himself as he turned to head off the field.