Chương 194: Chapter 195: Sometimes You Just Have to Do the Thing You Don't Want to Do

Leo was grateful for the Popeyes brawl. The chaos gave him an excuse to cut the meeting with Eddie short. He walked the Brit to the curb, promised to think about the Sky Sports offer, and watched his friend fly away. Then he stood on the sidewalk for a long time. The conversation left a sour taste in his mouth. He had a suspicion that someone was trying to use him. The Sky Sports sponsorship was suspicious. Eighty million dollars would conveniently solve his debt problem overnight.

It was easy to think that he could just accept the money, smile for a few commercials and speeches, and wash his hands clean of whatever followed. The problem was that Leo didn't know who the players behind the scenes were. He didn't know their motivations. It probably wasn't as simple as letting a few young Gold Cores get their time to shine in the spotlight. Back in the CFL, he'd gotten caught up in the Thousand Talents Program controversy.

On the surface it was about recruiting the best and brightest of the Catacombs to help America grow stronger. But later it was revealed to be a ploy to introduce personal cults and the religious worship of Deity Transformation cultivators. Years later, he still didn't know who had targeted him back then, or why. He wasn't eager to stumble into another political minefield. The Azure Profound Continent was already a mess. The last thing he needed was more problems back home on Earth.

Now he grew suspicious of other parts of Eddie's conversation. Leo had asked about Vicky. He'd expected good news. What he got was Eddie complaining about how Vicky refused to leave Harry's expedition team, then looking at Leo as if he expected Leo to volunteer a solution. Eddie wanted Leo to talk to her. The last thing Leo wanted was to pick a side without knowing what he was getting into. Maybe Eddie was genuine. Maybe he was just venting to a friend about relationship problems.

Or maybe someone had told Eddie to probe Leo's opinion, to test whether the Flyer Seven could be recruited to serve Windsor family interests. Leo started walking home. Focus, he told himself. The Saints game was tomorrow. New Orleans was coming off a bye week, which meant their starters would be rested and their film on the Giants would be fresh. Their starting wing had recovered from the hip injury faster than anyone expected.

Leo needed to prepare for the game, not get distracted wondering if Eddie was truly a friend or just another person trying to extract value from him. He pulled out his phone and texted Vivian. Passing on the Sky Sports deal. Too many unknowns. The reply came thirty seconds later. Good. I didn't like it either. BTW Manscaped is interested. Ball trimmer company. They want you to do an unboxing video. Leo put his phone away without responding.

Caesars Flying Aces Superdome, New Orleans Leo sat in the locker room, head in his hands. The Giants had lost. This was different from their loss to Kansas City in week three. That loss had been expected. Mamones was arguably the best flyer in the league, and he'd treated Leo like a training dummy for four quarters. Even Mike and Arthur had bet against the Giants that game. Nobody expected them to lose to the Saints. The Saints' linebacker, McKinsey, had marked Leo for one-on-one coverage the entire game.

The rest of the Saints had spread out, pressuring Vince, Niki, Damari and Kowalski, keeping them occupied so that no one could come to Leo's aid. For four quarters, Leo had faced McKinsey alone. McKinsey just kept moving. Shifting his stance. Changing his distance. Every few seconds, a new position. A new angle. A new threat that Leo had to evaluate and respond to. If Leo tried to ignore him, McKinsey would close in and land an easy strike.

If Leo tried to attack, McKinsey would deflect with his tower shield, dodge to a new position, and force Leo to respond all over again. It was exhausting. Not physically. Leo's body could handle the flight time. But mentally exhausting. Every shift required a decision. Every decision required processing. McKinsey never committed to anything, never gave Leo a pattern to exploit, never let him settle into a rhythm.

They had sparred back and forth for the entire game, and by the end Leo's head felt like it was splitting open. It reminded him of formation derivation. Those exercises where you had to analyze increasingly complex arrays. The same grinding, relentless mental strain. Leo had come in expecting a fight. He'd gotten a chess match where every wrong move meant getting punched in the face. The locker room doors banged open. Leo groaned. The media flooded in.

Cameras, microphones, reporters with tablets, all pushing through the entrance at once. NFL rules required teams to open their locker rooms ten minutes after the game ended. No exceptions. No delays. Leo hated this part. He wanted nothing more than to skip the interview and go back to his hotel room. But the fine for dodging media obligations was fifty thousand dollars, and Leo could tolerate a few minutes of annoying questions to avoid losing months of salary. The reporters seemed to sense his mood.

They took one look at his hunched posture and moved on, spreading out toward the other players. What frustrated him most was that he didn't know how to deal with McKinsey. He'd barely even heard of the guy before today. Leo had spent the whole week studying film on the Saints' wings, preparing to fight against lightsabers. He hadn't considered that they'd stick a linebacker on him. Mamones had ninety thousand Si. You could respect losing to that.

McKinsey's Si was close to Leo's, which meant Leo couldn't blame the gap on raw strength. There had to be a counter, some way to punish the constant repositioning, but...

"Leo Chen?" He looked up. A young woman stood in front of him, microphone in hand, cameraman hovering behind her. She couldn't have been older than twenty-two. Her press badge said NBC SPORTS but her nervous expression said 'first day on the job'. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"Could I get a few words with you?" Leo glared at her.

"Go talk to someone else." Her face crumpled. She looked like she was about to cry.

"Hold on." Leo held up both hands.

"Wait. Sorry. Don't cry. Please don't cry." Too late.

"This was supposed to be my big break." She started sobbing.

"My first real assignment and I'm, like... I'm bombing. I know I'm bombing. I can feel it happening. Everyone in the office told me the Giants were the worst team to interview. They said my boss hates me and wants me to... I'm going to lose my job." The cameraman adjusted his angle. He was getting a better shot of her crying face. Leo imagined tomorrow's headline. LEO CHEN BULLIES YOUNG JOURNALIST, TAKES FRUSTRATION OUT ON NBC STAFF.

"Calm down." Leo panicked.

"Please calm down. The Giants are great. Everyone here is friendly. See?" He gestured vaguely at the locker room. Ten feet away, Kowalski had cornered a reporter from ESPN. The linebacker was jabbing his finger at the man's chest while the reporter's eyes darted toward the exit.

"... and if you look at the helmet's internal array structure, you'll notice a central collection node. That's not standard. That's surveillance architecture. The NFL claims it's for 'player safety telemetry,' but I've seen the same formations in classified NSA documents..." The ESPN reporter opened his mouth to interrupt.

"I'm not finished." Kowalski produced a crumpled sheet of aluminum foil from his locker. Leo turned away. Where was Vince? Vince was the team captain. Vince could handle this. He spotted Vince in front of a camera near the showers. The old man had pulled a cardboard box from his locker and was holding up a small formation kit with a label that read DELUCA HOME SECURITY SOLUTIONS.

"... and here's the thing, pal. Most home security systems, they're going to run you three, four hundred dollars. Installation fees on top of that. You're looking at a guy coming to your house, drilling holes in your walls, running wires everywhere. It's a mess. It's an invasion." The reporter tried to interject.

"Mr. Deluca, if we could talk about the game..."

"But this kit?" Vince was undeterred.

"Forty-nine ninety-nine. You set it up yourself. Twenty minutes, tops. My grandmother could do it, and she's been dead for thirty years." The cameraman looked around the locker room, searching for anyone else to interview. His shoulders slumped. He turned back to Vince and kept filming.

"... and if you order in the next hour, I'll throw in a second kit absolutely free. That's two kits for the price of one..." Leo turned back to the reporter. She was still sniffling.

"Okay." Leo tried to look friendly.

"I see your point. But what about Damari? Or Niki? They're nice people. Or even Coach Harbach? Doesn't he usually handle most of the postgame interviews?" She stopped crying. Now she just looked frustrated.

"Harbach is, like... he's always impossible to find after the Giants lose. He just vanishes. Nobody knows where he goes." She threw up her free hand.

"And Niki... Niki refuses to talk to anyone who isn't, like, an attractive young guy. She looked at me, laughed, and introduced herself to the guy from Fox." Leo winced.

"And Damari's even worse." She was nearly shouting now.

"He answers every question with 'that's crazy.' I asked him about the defensive scheme.

'That's crazy.' I asked him about his personal performance.

'That's crazy.' I asked him if he had any thoughts on the upcoming schedule..." She jabbed her microphone at Leo for emphasis.

"That's crazy," Leo said. She glared at him.

"Okay, okay." He held up his hands.

"Fine. We can do a quick interview. Whatever you want. Just make it quick." Her face lit up. She lifted her microphone, took a breath, and then just stood there. Leo stared at her.

"Well?"

"I didn't think I'd get this far." She looked down at her microphone like it had betrayed her.

"I'm not really sure what to ask you." Leo looked at her in disbelief.

"How about you ask me what I thought about the game."

"Right." She nodded rapidly.

"Right. Okay." She lifted the microphone.

"Leo Chen. What did you think about..." Every reporter in the locker room turned at once. The ESPN guy abandoned Kowalski mid-sentence. The Fox correspondent wrenched his arm free from Niki's grip. Vince's cameraman dropped the infomercial and jogged over. Microphones came at Leo from every direction. The NBC girl got elbowed aside. Someone stepped on Leo's foot. They all started piling questions on top of each other.

"Leo, what happened in the third quarter?"

"Leo, do you think McKinsey exposed a weakness in your game?"

"Leo, sources say the Giants are considering..." Leo had no idea what to do. He opened his mouth to respond to one question and three more drowned it out. Something moved at the edge of Leo's divine sense. He caught Harbach pressed flat against the wall, sliding toward the exit. Clearly, this was not the first time Harbach had escaped a postgame interview.

"COACH HARBACH IS OVER THERE!" Leo shouted. Every reporter turned. Harbach froze. He was caught mid-stride, one hand on the exit door. For one long moment, he and the press corps stared at each other. He raised his free hand in a small wave. Then he pushed through the door and ran. The flock of reporters stampeded after him. Microphones clattered. Someone tripped over an equipment bag. Bodies shoved past Leo from every direction, chasing the coach out the door. The locker room cleared out in seconds.

Even the other Giants had somehow escaped in the chaos. When Leo looked up, only the NBC girl was left. Her blazer was crooked. Her hair was a mess. She was glaring at him like he'd personally ruined her career.

"Wait, I'm sorry." Leo stepped toward her.

"I panicked. Also, isn't this better? It's just us. I can still do the interview. An exclusive." She stared at him for a long moment. Then she turned and marched out without a word. Leo watched her go. What did I do wrong?

Giants Training Facility, NJ The next morning, Leo found Vince in the film room. The team captain was hunched over a tablet, scrubbing through footage of the Saints game. A legal pad sat beside him, covered in handwritten notes.

"Vince."

"Pal." Vince didn't look up.

"You look terrible. You sleep at all last night?"

"Not really."

"Yeah, well." Vince tapped the tablet.

"McKinsey made you look lost out there, pal. I wouldn't be able to sleep either." Leo sat down across from him.

"I need help." Vince finally looked up. He studied Leo for a moment, then leaned back in his chair.

"Okay." Vince set the tablet down.

"Here's the thing, pal. I watched the tape. McKinsey didn't outscheme you. He just marked you one-on-one and wore you out. That's a dueling problem." He spread his hands.

"I'm a center. I can hold my own in a fight, but dueling is not my specialty. You need someone who actually thinks about this stuff for a living." Leo frowned.

"Like who?"

"Like the coaching staff, pal. That's what they're there for." Leo's face fell.

"Come on, Vince. You know Harbach is still furious with me. I skipped his entire preseason training program. The man's red face got twenty million views on TikTok."

"Twenty-two million." Vince grinned.

"Love that video. Made me a killing." He reached under the table and pulled out a bobblehead. It was Harbach, face contorted mid-scream, one fist raised at the sky. When Vince flicked the head, it wobbled and a tiny speaker crackled: "CHEN!"

"Want one? I'll give you the friends and family discount."

"Vince. Does Harbach know about these?" Vince hid the bobblehead so fast it was like it had never existed.

"Anyway." He cleared his throat.

"Point is, Harbach is the one guy in this building whose job depends on you being good. You think he's mad because he hates you? He's mad because he cares." Leo raised an eyebrow.

"You can afford to sit back," Vince continued.

"Fly off to who knows where while the rest of us run drills in the heat. You've got time." He jabbed a finger at Leo.

"Harbach doesn't have time. Lord Mara wants a championship now. And if Harbach can't figure out how to make you shine, his job is on the line. Not yours. His." Leo hadn't thought about it that way.

"So what do I do? How do I smooth things over?"

"You go talk to him." Vince picked up his tablet.

"Walk in, say 'Coach, I was wrong, help me fix it.' That's it. Don't overcomplicate it."

"That's it?"

"Most guys can't do it." Vince shook his head.

"Their ego gets in the way. They'd rather let the whole thing rot than admit they were wrong and ask for help. I've got a cousin who hasn't talked to his brother in fourteen years because neither one of them will pick up the phone and say 'I was an idiot.' Fourteen years, pal. Over a parking spot. A parking spot neither of them even uses anymore." He looked at Leo over the tablet.

"Harbach's not your enemy. He's the one guy in this building who gets fired if you stink. Go let him help you."