Nick stood frozen for half a second.
The football was still warm in his palm.
The system panel was still in his vision.
He stared at the words.
Then at the ball… then at the words again.
"It's not telling me to hospitalize the guy."
He muttered under his breath.
"Just… humble him a little. Build the image. That's the whole point of this system, right? Take advantage when the spotlight's already on you. I have to do things I wouldn't have thought of doing when I was the old Nick."
He glanced around.
There were phones up and girls screaming.
This was the perfect audience.
Nick lifted the football, gave it a slow, lazy spin on his index finger like it was a basketball.
The leather hissed softly as it rotated.
Across the field the entire offensive line had gone quiet like they'd seen a ghost.
One of the linemen elbowed Jason.
He was a six-foot-four slab named Connor.
