The YouTube video was a key, a secret blueprint for a future Ethan hadn’t even dared to imagine.
Real-world inco.
The words echoed in his mind, a steady, powerful drumbeat of hope.
He sat at the quiet kitchen table, the half-eaten plate of pasta forgotten, his mind a supernova of possibilities. He could create highlight reels of Viktor’s impossible goals, tactical breakdowns of Emre’s genius, and chaotic compilations of David Kerrigan just being David Kerrigan. He could tell the story of the nine-man miracle, the Cardiff coback, the derby against Leo. He had the best story in the entire ga.
"Okay," he whispered to the empty kitchen, a new, steely resolve hardening in his gut.
"New ga plan."
He decided he would start small. He would use the FCG’s built-in recording suite to capture his next league match tomorrow. No comntary, no fancy editing. Just the raw footage.
He’d upload it, see if anyone watched, and go from there. It was a simple, logical first step.
The next morning, however, was anything but logical.
He was in the middle of his shift at CostMart, his mind a million miles away, choreographing the perfect cara angles for a potential Emre Demir wonder goal, when the mundane reality of the supermarket was shattered by a sudden commotion.
"Hey! Stop! Get back here!"
A skinny kid in a grey hoodie sprinted past the end of the aisle, clutching two oversized cans of a ridiculously expensive energy drink.
Close behind was a flustered-looking security guard, a man well into his sixties who was not built for a chase.
"There he is!" Maya’s voice called out from the next aisle over.
"He’s heading for the back entrance!"
Ethan’s managerial brain, the one that processed patterns and predicted movent, kicked in instinctively.He saw the thief’s trajectory. He saw the wet-floor sign soone had carelessly left out. He saw the janitor’s cart, complete with a mop sticking out at a perfect, trip-inducing angle.
He didn’t have ti to be a hero. He just had ti to be a tactician.
As the thief sprinted past the end of his aisle, Ethan, with a casual, almost lazy movent, just stuck his foot out and nudged the base of the janitor’s cart.
The cart rolled a few feet, the mop handle swinging out, creating a perfect, unavoidable obstacle right at ankle height.
The thief, his eyes fixed on the exit, didn’t see it coming.
He ran straight into the mop handle, his feet flying out from under him in a comical, cartoonish spin. He landed in a heap, the two energy drink cans flying through the air and landing with a loud, percussive clang right at the feet of the approaching, breathless security guard.
The store, which had been a hub of panicked shouting, fell silent for a second.
Then, a small round of applause broke out from the custors who had witnessed the beautifully executed, low-tech takedown.
Mr. Henderson ca storming over, his face a thundercloud. He looked at the thief, who was now being handcuffed by two police officers who had just arrived. He looked at the mop. He looked at Ethan, who was trying his best to look like an innocent, cheese-stacking bystander.
"You," Mr. Henderson grunted, pointing a thick finger at Ethan.
"Did you do that?"
"The cart just... rolled, sir," Ethan said, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated innocence.
Mr. Henderson stared at him for a long, hard mont. "Right," he said, a strange, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth.
"Well. You didn’t break anything. Good." He then turned and started barking orders at the other staff to clean up the ss.
Maya appeared at Ethan’s side, a look of profound, impressed amusent on her face.
"That was the most beautifully executed defensive maneuver I have ever seen," she whispered, her eyes sparkling.
"A perfectly tid, low-block interception. You’re a natural."
"Just thinking about the space," Ethan said with a grin, feeling ridiculously proud of himself.
He got ho that evening, the adrenaline of his brief cri-fighting career still buzzing in his veins. He found his dad in the small workshop behind the toy shop, surrounded by sketches and blocks of wood.
"Hey, Dad," Ethan said, leaning against the doorfra. "Working on a new masterpiece?"
"Just an idea," his dad said, holding up a rough, half-carved wooden animal.
"A little wooden lion. Thought I’d try sothing new." He put the wood down and looked at his son, a tired but happy smile on his face.
"The new car has been a godsend, you know. Your mother and I went for a little drive this afternoon. Just around town. It felt... normal. For the first ti in a long ti."
"I’m glad, Dad," Ethan said, his heart swelling with a quiet pride.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small, crumpled bundle of cash from his last two weeks at CostMart. He placed it on the workbench.
"This is for the shop," he said simply. "To help out."
His father looked at the money, then at his son. He didn’t say anything. He just pulled Ethan into a rough, sawdust-scented, one-ard hug.
"You’re a good man, Ethan Couch," he said, his voice a little thick.
Ethan went to bed that night feeling a profound sense of peace.
His two worlds, once so separate, were starting to feel like two halves of the sa whole.
He was a manager. He was a son. He was a brother. And he was a surprisingly effective, mop-wielding cri fighter.
He was about to drift off to sleep, his mind already on the match tomorrow, when his phone buzzed. He picked it up, expecting a goodnight text from Maya or a ridiculous tactical question from Leo.
It was a notification from YouTube.
New channel you might like: The Guru’s Gauntlet.
Ethan frowned. He tapped on it.
The channel was brand new, created only a day ago, but it already had thousands of subscribers. There was only one video.
It was slick, professionally edited, and had a thumbnail that made his blood run cold.
The thumbnail was a picture of GridironGuru’s smug, laughing avatar, a golden trophy held aloft. And in the background, out of focus, was a single, dejected player in an all-black kit, on his knees, his head in his hands.
It was his player. It was his team.
The title of the video was simple, brutal, and felt like a personal attack.
My First FCG Match - DEMOLISHING a League One Minnow (EASY WAGER WIN!)
GridironGuru hadn’t just beaten him.
He had recorded the entire, heartbreaking, 4-3 defeat. And he had used it as the grand premiere for his new YouTube channel.
The rivalry wasn’t just in the ga anymore. It was public.
Reviews
All reviews (0)