Chapter Two

"Whether driven by life, luck, or fate, some heroes seem to be chosen by the gods themselves." – Fan.

The Previous Saturday

Tuck

“GO EAGLES!” roared multiple voices as a car sped toward the street, leaving the parking lots closest to the football fields.

“We better see you at Will’s place, Tuck!” the voices continued to yell as the car disappeared.

Tuck reached his '97 Bronco in the parking lot, glancing back at the dimming lights over the football fields. He knew he was gradually losing his chance at a promising future. This marked his second year in the program, and while he had garnered decent attention from several D1 schools, they all fell silent after a series of incidents this year.

What is wrong with me? Tuck wondered as he packed up his gear, tossing it into the back of the truck. His uniform landed atop several other unwashed practice jerseys. The mingling scents of body odor, grass, and blood stains forced his thoughts back to the allure of playing at the D1 level—the promise of laundry services and the potential for a brighter path.

This marked the third time within four games this year that Tuck hadn’t completed a match. Throughout his life, Tuck had been known for giving his all. His dedication extended beyond the field, evident in the furious workouts that shaped his physique. He never missed a practice, and no coach or teacher had to ask him twice about anything. It was how he’d been raised by his mom in the small town of Dayton, just outside Carson City, Nevada. With his father having been incarcerated since he was just eight, Tuck’s life story could easily lead one to make assumptions. Yet, his clean-cut appearance and composed demeanor would quickly dispel any notions that his father was serving time in the local prison.

‘Don’t shame your family any more than your father has already done,’ Tuck’s mom would say.

Amidst a few more honks and cheers, Tuck climbed up the side rail as the truck shifted and accepted his weight. He might as well celebrate with the team; they all knew he wouldn’t have many more chances after this year.

The party was at the same place every week: Will’s house. With limited bars and plenty of underage drinking, house parties became a nightly ritual for most kids in school. After the initial weeks of parties, the neighbors—though more spread out than typical suburban areas—realized they were in a losing battle this year. Mostly ranch hands and older folks, they didn’t mind the parties as long as they didn’t venture too far into their properties.

Tuck took the keys out of the ignition, breathing deeply as he attempted to push the night’s events and subsequent thoughts to the back of his mind. Shutting the door, he stepped out onto the sidewalk.

“Damn, Tuck, we know the neighbors don’t care too much about us partying, but do you have to slam your door before the party even starts?” Will, the resident home renter and fellow Eagles football player, chided.

"Oops, sorry, Will. I guess these old doors make more noise than you think."

Tuck glanced back at the old Bronco, which had a few dents in the door frame. Did he slam it without thinking?

“It’s all right. It’s becoming a sign that the party is about to start when Big Tuck shows up.”

Tuck gave a slight smile. “Great game tonight, Brick. I’m bummed for missing your 4th down shutdown over Nick Reese. I heard you locked him up and closed the game for us.”

Will played cornerback for the Eagles because he couldn’t catch a ball tossed underhanded and headed straight for his face. He was always assigned to guard the top wide receiver on the opposing team. Tonight, he locked onto Reese, a D1 top recruit in Nevada, holding him to just two catches and only 15 yards. Due to his talent as a lockdown corner, combined with the catching ability of a 3-year-old, Will quickly earned the nickname “Brick.” While Will took it to reference the wall he built in front of the wideout he was guarding, the rest of the team had different interpretations.

“Thanks, Tuck. We’ve got to fix that temper of yours. The team missed you out there. But none of that tonight; it looks like the start of a fun one. The usuals are inside, and our star QB decided to show up.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“James made it out?”

“Nah, Silver Hair didn’t make it, but his replacement did and seems to have his eyes locked on Nadia tonight.”

Will passed by Tuck, giving him a friendly shoulder bump, and grabbed the 18-pack from the back of his truck to bring inside. Ripping the top off, he tossed one over his shoulder toward Tuck with a side wink.

"Thanks, Will."

Tuck cracked open a beer, took a quick sip, and headed inside. As always, he walked into the house to blaring music and a chorus of cheers from his friends. The house had a living room—or, in this case, a dance area—in the front, with couches around it, opening up to a kitchen at the back. Not being much of a dancer, Tuck made a beeline for the kitchen.

“Yo, Tuck, right? Hell of a hit out there tonight. You messed up that kid nicely.”

Tuck glanced toward the couches and saw the new replacement QB lounging lazily with a hand draped over Nadia, who sat beside him. Both held mixed drinks in hand, and the familiar earthy scent was hanging in the air. Tuck glanced at Nadia, then looked back at Trent.

“Not my finest hour, but I’m happy the team pulled it out. How’s your first weekend in Quincy?”

Trent took another long drink from his glass and looked over at Nadia. “Just living the dream, friend.”

Taking it as a sign to exit and wanting to leave the room, Tuck nodded and headed into the kitchen.

“Heyyyyyy, Tuck! The keg is ready for you!” fellow lineman Frank shouted, mouth still full of the sandwich he had been eating.

“Hey, Frank. I should have known you would be here, stuffing your face as always. Do you ever leave this house?”

“Will ought to realize by now that leaving bread out is practically an invitation for me to eat it. With the school workshop closed and football finished for the evening, the only activity left… is drinking.”

Frank Arhest, with his short blond mullet and soft eyes, had a down-to-earth charm that was hard to ignore. He and Tuck had formed a solid friendship since their first day of practice last year. Both were sophomores at the school, but their paths diverged beyond that point. While Tuck dedicated himself to football, Frank pursued a different passion. He enrolled in the college’s renowned welding program, playing football merely to pass the time and make some friends. Despite their contrasting pursuits, Frank’s dedication, unpretentious persona, sturdy build, and skills on the field made him a valuable football asset for the school, much like his friend Tuck.

Laughter and banter continued as Tuck fulfilled his party duty and caught up with the other people around the house. Say one thing about Quill Creek: there might not be much to do, but with enough alcohol and loud music, anyone could have a good time.

As the night progressed, Tuck started to feel like himself again. Regardless of the drinks, laughter, and jokes, good friends always did the trick.

With a jolt of music from the door to the living room opening again, Trent strode into the kitchen with two empty drinks. He poured generously into one of the glasses, then looked back at the guys around the room.

“You boys ready to see a real QB in action this week?”

With a few glances exchanged and an attempt to keep the fun night going, Frank made the first comment.

“We’ve been hearing some good things from Coach about you. Excited to have you on the team.”

“That makes one of us,” Trent said, lifting his glass. “Here’s to getting out of this place.”

He took a quick drink and headed back into the living room.

“Seems a little early for that type of talk,” Frank commented as Trent left the kitchen, irritated.

“Let’s just give him the benefit of the doubt. We all know how hard it was to come in here the first week,” Tuck stated, taking another sip and walking toward the exit.

“I think I am going to get some air. I’ll be back.”

With that, he opened the door to the blare of music and stepped away from the crowd. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Trent pouring drinks tonight, and he had to check on a few things in the other room. Moving to the side, Tuck leaned against the wall and took another drink, his gaze drifting towards a particular figure.

Nadia and Trent had moved couches at some point, and Tuck watched as Trent gave the drink to the more petite girl. Nadia, a paradox of beauty and subtlety, was frequently present at these parties. Her stunning features were consistently downplayed by her casual attire and low-key demeanor, making her blend seamlessly into the crowd. Yet, her quiet, reserved nature and the ever-present drink or joint in her hand made her stand out to those who knew where to look. He didn’t know much about her other than the half smile they always exchanged in passing, a smile that held a mysterious charm.

Holding the drink, Nadia took a whiff of it, shrugged off the arm draped over her shoulders, and made her way upstairs to the restroom. Girls were known to venture upstairs to the bathroom, as the one on the bottom floor of the place occasionally had a slug or two coming out of the floors. Having your flats get engulfed by the floor was not the best experience. Tuck didn’t mind too much because, hey, what do you expect when the floor is covered with cheap beer and piss marks?

Left alone on the couch, Trent put down his drink, smiled at a few people dancing, and proceeded upstairs to follow Nadia.

Tuck sighed. Having frequented enough parties, he knew a red flag when he saw one. Frustrated that this would be the start of their relationship after tonight, he put down his drink and headed up the stairs to follow Trent.

“Hey, Trent, what are you looking for up here?” Tuck caught Trent as he headed down the hallway toward the bathroom.

“Huh?” Trent seemed caught off guard. “Oh, uh, just looking for the bathroom. Bit new here and wasn’t sure where to go.”

Even having seen Trent regularly use the downstairs bathroom, Tuck gave him an out.

“Ah, we usually use the downstairs one. This one is typically reserved for the girls. They called dibs once they saw the floor in the other one.”

“Got it, got it. Let me head back down and look for that one then.”

As Trent descended the stairs, Tuck waited and knocked on the bathroom door. With no answer and no lock, Tuck opened the door to an empty room.

Tuck proceeded to check the remaining open rooms and once again found nobody. Shaking his head, he headed back downstairs to the party.

What the heck?