“Hunter, son, you gotta stop runnin’ off,” Brett heard a gruff voice say behind him and turned.
His heart hammered in his chest, and he couldn’t fight the smile that came to his lips at the cute little boy standing there, his curly brown hair ruffled by the wind. Once again, he was clad in a Gladiators jersey.
“Mr. McFadden, I sincerely apologize. He tends to wander.” The man Brett assumed to be the boy’s father strode up and gripped the little guy’s shoulder even as the kid gaped at Brett, his big brown eyes staring into his.
“It’s no problem at all,” Brett stated with a laugh and pointed to his jersey. “You watchin’ the game tonight, kiddo?”
“Oh, he doesn’t miss a Gladiators game for anything in the world. Isn’t that right, buddy?” The father stated; he favored the boy, save his hair was thin and straight.
“Did you keep him?” the boy asked, and Brett frowned, not understanding what he was asking him. “The tortoise, did you keep him?”
Brett grinned and looked down for a moment before looking back up at the boy. “I did. He’s enjoying his new home on my farm. I named him Hermes.” Brett patted Hunt’s gravestone as he replied, thinking the boy probably looked a lot like Hunter would’ve as a kid.
“We’re real sorry for your loss, Mr. McFadden.”
Brett gulped and thanked him for his kind words.
“We’re rooting for y’all tonight.” The man looked down to his son then. “Tell him, say, ‘Go Gladiators.’”
The boy mimicked his father, and the man took the boy’s hand, turning to give Brett the privacy they’d interrupted.
“Hey, what’s your name, kiddo?” Brett asked, even though he’d heard the kid’s father say it already.
The little boy turned and grinned big. “Hunter Xavier Martinez.”
“Thanks, Hunter.” This kid had done more for Brett than he’d ever know. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to want an autograph by any chance, would ya?”
The boy’s eyes got as big as saucers; he nodded vigorously as he smiled back at Brett.
Alright, Hunt—I hear ya, buddy. I’m going for the green, man. I promise I’ll make you proud.
Brett was pumped but nervous as he took the field that night listening to the crowd chant, “Gods of the Gridiron,” and grinned knowingly. He waved over to Madi on the sidelines, who smiled. She looked radiant in a crimson dress that accentuated her perfect curves; pregnancy became her.
This was the night he and his team had prepared for, their season opener against New Orleans, the first home game. The strong start to an epic season, and he was ready to own his title as Zeus, the King of the Gods, as his thunderbolt-throwing skills had been on point all week. Hades was bringing Hell with him, along with Ares, their ram of a running back. On their defense, LB Poseidon, who seemed fully ready to “release the Kraken” and corner, Lazarus, who’d been brought back to life for the sole purpose of tackling receivers, it would appear.
He huddled the eleven offensive players together, gave them a little pep talk, and told them the play before their arms went into the pile. They all yelled, “G.O.G” and moved to their respective positions.
The first play Brett called was a running play. He dropped back, faked a throw, and tossed the ball to Travis, who ran for thirty yards. It was that strong start he’d wanted, and they went right into the no-huddle offense they’d been practicing. His next play was also a run but a hand-off going in the opposite direction, where Brett blocked, for yet another big run, twenty-yards. The next play, Zeus was feeling good about—until he eyed the change in the defense. He could read the blitz coming and called a different play, shouting over to his receivers, “Draco 80. Hut. Draco 80. Hut hut.”
He could see the furious eyes burning into his own through the masks of the defense as they came at him, shoving at his offensive line, but he knew they’d hold ‘em back. His center, Robicheaux, was named Cyclops as much for his keen vision as for his strong stature.
Brett turned and faked the ball to Travis. He dropped back as Ares passed by, taking his time in the pocket and looking for Hades. The fast bastard was already in line as Zeus threw up his thunderbolt. He saw the white and gold jersey coming at him and braced himself for the impact as he went down. Brett then shuffled away from the defender to see if his target had met its intended mark. He hopped up off the turf, watching as Hades centered his body and jumped for the ball. Quil caught it and came down, teetering. C’mon, stay up, stay up! Sure enough, Quillan was still on his feet and running… past the ten, the five…into the end zone.
“TOUCHDOWN!” Brett cried and turned to TJ, who embraced him. He slammed his hand down on TJ’s helmet in glee as big OT TJ lifted his QB.
In three plays, they were already on the board! It was an awesome feeling.
Their streak continued through the first half and into the second where they led by three scores. The Gods of the Gridiron were on fire; no one could stop them from scoring and their defense was holding the opposing team’s offense to field goals. It was a record for the Gladiators against the Saints. But as the time wound down closer to halftime, Brett grew anxious, for this was the big moment he’d planned. Madi might hate it, but he
