The tunnel was a narrow throat of concrete, every sound bouncing back at twice its volume — boots striking the floor in uneven rhythms, muted laughter and the occasional thud of a hand slapping a shoulder.
It was the same tunnel they had walked in after the first half, but to Izan, it was starting to feel a bit shorter and longer at the same time.
Just ahead, Rice leaned slightly toward Saliba, voice low but carrying in the close space.
"…and I told him, if he tries that turn again, he's losing the ball."
Saliba's grin flickered in the dim light. "You'll foul him before that."
Rice smirked. "Maybe."
Izan trailed behind them, his gaze fixed on the slope of Rice's back, each step calculated.
Max, he thought, the name passing through his mind like a finger flicking a switch. What happens if someone who hasn't been… upgraded like me drinks the rest of that bottle?
The response he expected didn't come for a while, causing his jaw to tighten.
