American Football: Domination

"Hey! Guys!"

Annie's smile glowed as she waved with both hands, excitement spilling out of her so much she couldn't hide it. Her voice, even hushed, rang in the church hall, startling even herself. She clapped her hands over her mouth, giggling, and dashed down the aisle to flop sideways across a pew, curling up like a child trying not to burst with joy.

Lance stepped forward. Watching her hugging her knees and grinning, he couldn't help smiling back.

"You two okay? Cold?"

Outside, snow had fallen again over Kansas City. Not heavy, but visible. This was already the fourth big snow of winter. Between flurries and hour-long bursts, the season had been unusually harsh. Lance worried—could the city endure the winter? Could these kids?

Felix glanced at Annie, then snorted. "My mom's worried too. Don't let my skinny frame fool you—I'm wrapped up like a sumo wrestler under here."

Fresh from the edge of death, but laughing like nothing had happened.

Annie nodded furiously. "Don't worry! If I wasn't bundled up like a snowman, Mom would've never let me out. No way am I testing her limits."

Her words, full of mischief, animated her face—brows, lips, even nose dancing with life. The mood lifted.

It felt natural. Not greetings, not ceremony—just friends meeting.

Mahomes and Kelce eased into seats, shoulders loosening.

Kelce glanced around. "Sorry about us crashing. We were worried Lance might get tricked into running away with you. That'd be a disaster."

"Ha!" Felix grinned. "No, you're welcome. Honestly, I was worried it'd be too quiet. I want a packed house for my funeral. The more, the better."

…What?

Funeral?

Mahomes and Kelce froze, eyes darting to Lance. Even Lance's smile faltered. "Felix?"

"Relax," Felix said quickly, waving it off. "Why so serious?" He exaggerated the line, blinking rapidly. "Get it? Joker's line?"

He chuckled.

Lance sighed faintly, lips twitching back toward a smile. He waited.

Felix's expression softened. "My mom doesn't get it. I thought maybe you would. Rookie, you've disappointed me a little."

Lance stayed firm. "Tell me first, then I'll decide if I'll play along."

Felix's eyes brightened. He straightened. "I always wanted to attend my funeral. Ideally as a ghost. But just in case it doesn't work out, I decided to plan one while I'm still alive. What do you think?"

"My mom says it's ridiculous. That no one should plan or attend their own funeral."

He turned to Lance, gaze steady. "But is she right? Really?"

The joke was gone. His eyes burned with honesty.

It was cruel.

These kids—Felix, Annie—they hadn't even figured out life, yet already had to face death. Felix couldn't run from it. To run was to waste what little time he had left.

The church's light glowed warm and steady, but the silence lay heavy, sharp against the skin.

Mahomes turned away, jaw tight.

Lance tried to speak, words fumbling. He felt five years old, clumsy and powerless.

He cleared his throat. "Anyone can plan their funeral. But only the strongest can do it calmly. And only the bravest can find a way to attend it. I'm honored you invited me."

Felix's grin bloomed—he knew Lance would understand.

He whipped his head toward Annie. "Your turn. You wrote a eulogy, right? Can't trust these superheroes to say anything useful. You're my only hope."

"Unfair!" Annie shot back. "I wanted you to speak at my funeral."

Kelce jerked his head up, staring at her small frame. "Annie…"

She waved him off, grinning. "I know I'm a kid. But I might not have time to grow up slow. Gotta hurry. Otherwise, I won't even get to like someone properly. Don't stare at me—you'll get arrested under federal law."

Her wit lit the air.

Lance clapped, first to break the silence. Mahomes and Kelce joined, voices echoing.

"Annie! Annie! Annie!"

She bounded back to the lectern, barely visible over the top, only her head and shoulders poking out.

"I should write a complaint," she quipped. "This design is clearly anti-children."

Laughter rippled.

She smiled, content, then raised her chin. "Alright. Get ready for my Fitzgerald-level masterpiece."

"Felix Gray is a vain, arrogant lunatic. But we forgave him. What else could we do? In an age where good looks save the world, what choice do we have but to forgive the handsome ones?"

Laughter burst, Felix even whistling.

It wasn't a funeral. It was a party.

The louder it got, the sharper the ache. The brighter the smiles, the deeper the sorrow.

But if this was what Felix wanted, then this was what they would give him.

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Powerstones?

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