American Football: Domination

"Got it, I'll take care of it."

After listening to Lilith Rosen's instructions, Eric Berry gave a slight nod without saying much more. He turned to leave, but not before spotting Lance walking in.

Berry smiled, gave Lance a light shoulder bump, and patted him on the back in encouragement.

"Great game. You're almost as good as I was back in the day."

The small jab earned a shared laugh between the two, and then Berry walked away without pause.

Though Berry didn't say much, Lance could sense his emotions—a complicated mix of feelings that couldn't be easily summarized. It wasn't exactly sadness, but there was a weight to it.

As a veteran, Berry's ability to mask his emotions was impressive. Within moments, he had already recovered his usual composure, his steps filled with energy and purpose.

Still, Lance couldn't help but glance back, his curiosity piqued.

"Get on the treadmill. Wear the gear and jog for three minutes."

A cool, detached voice broke through Lance's thoughts.

He turned back to Lilith Rosen, whose frosty tone matched her icy demeanor. She didn't look up from the tablet in her hands, her attention entirely focused on whatever data she was recording.

Though Lance didn't fully understand why he was here, he chose not to ask questions. Pushing aside his thoughts, he directed his focus to the treadmill.

It looked like an ordinary treadmill, but it was hooked up to an array of wires and sensors. With Lilith's assistance, Lance was fitted with various attachments around his shoulders and knees—gear resembling motion-capture equipment used in filmmaking, designed to track his every move.

The test began.

For about ten minutes, Lance ran at varying speeds, adjusting as instructed. By the time the test concluded, he had finished before Travis Kelce even emerged from the ice bath.

As Lance removed the equipment, Lilith was already absorbed in her tablet, analyzing the data.

Once Lance was done tidying up the gear, he noticed she still hadn't looked up.

"Dr. Rosen, is that everything?" Lance asked.

"Mm." Lilith hummed in acknowledgment, still not raising her head.

Lance nodded. "Alright, then I'll head out."

He turned to leave without hesitation.

Lilith blinked, caught off guard by his decisiveness. She had expected him to linger or ask questions, but instead, she watched as he walked away, leaving only his back in view.

"Lance."

Her voice, uncharacteristically flustered, stopped him mid-step. He turned back, his expression curious and a little puzzled.

Lilith felt a momentary lapse in control, the roles unexpectedly reversed.

Regaining her composure, she asked, "Aren't you curious about any of this?"

Lance's expression remained neutral. "Should I be?"

The simplicity of his response left her momentarily speechless.

Lilith had been prepared to counter any questions or concerns, but instead, she found herself at a loss.

Before she could formulate a retort, Lance added, "I trust you."

Her breath hitched at his words.

Trust.

Such a weighty concept, yet Lance had delivered it with the ease of a passing comment.

Lilith's habitual cynicism and sharp tongue faltered under the sincerity in his gaze. His clear, calm eyes reflected her image like a still lake, untainted and unwavering.

Why was he always so honest and direct?

Every interaction with Lance seemed to unsettle her, dismantling her expectations and leaving her momentarily unguarded.

Lilith instinctively lowered her eyes, taking a second to collect herself. One breath later, her mask of professionalism returned, her emotions tucked neatly away.

"This test evaluates your physical condition," she explained.

"Today's game involved repeated impacts to your shoulders, as well as stress on your knees and ankles. These areas require attention."

Lance tilted his head slightly, as if to say, Ah, that makes sense now.

While the players fought on the field, the team's medical staff had been equally busy behind the scenes.

Berry, Kelce—most likely all key players—underwent similar evaluations to monitor their condition and catch potential issues before they worsened.

"So, no injuries?" Lance asked.

"Primarily preventive," Lilith clarified.

"And Eric? Is he alright?"

"Knees and ankles need monitoring," she admitted.

That explained Berry's earlier demeanor.

Now in his seventh season since entering the league in 2010, Berry had endured multiple season-ending injuries in 2011 and 2014. By now, every game carried the risk of aggravating old wounds, demanding constant vigilance.

For professional athletes, avoiding injury was nearly impossible. Behind the glamour of their careers lay countless sleepless nights and grueling recoveries. Managing injuries and finding balance became as much a part of their training as anything else.

For Berry, it seemed, such burdens had become routine.

Lilith suddenly realized she had shared more than intended. Though Berry's condition wasn't a secret, casually divulging it wasn't her usual style.

She scolded herself inwardly: Why did I let my guard down? Damn it, Lance.

As she looked up, Lilith shot Lance a brief glare.

Her sharp, icy gaze was enough to make most people flinch, but Lance met it with his usual calm.

"You should focus on yourself," she said curtly.

"Alright." Lance agreed so readily that it left her momentarily stunned.

Whatever she had prepared to say next got stuck in her throat.

Lilith replayed various scenarios in her head, imagining herself delivering a cutting response, but ultimately chose restraint. She had no intention of letting Lance dictate the pace of their conversation.

Her professionalism remained intact as she glanced back at her tablet, noting something with a furrowed brow.

"Is there a problem?" Lance asked.

"No. Everything looks fine," she replied without looking up.

"So... bad news?" Lance quipped.

Lilith snapped her head up, her composure cracking slightly. "What? No."

When she caught the teasing glint in Lance's eye and the satisfied smirk tugging at his lips, she realized he'd been joking.

The faintest crack appeared in her icy demeanor.

Lilith fought the urge to react, maintaining her stoicism.

"Your test results are excellent," she finally said.

"The impacts and collisions from today's game left almost no detectable wear or strain. Your body has fully adapted to the demands of professional play."

"Additionally, your recovery rate is remarkable."

"There's nothing unusual in your data. Still, make sure to prioritize massage and relaxation during tomorrow's recovery session."

"Got it," Lance replied, his tone relaxed.

Lilith stared at him for a beat longer before returning to her tablet. Though her exterior remained composed, a flicker of curiosity lingered beneath her calm.

For now, though, she returned to her mantra: Professionalism first.

----------

Powerstones?

For 20 advance chapters: patreon.com/michaeltranslates