The Golden Field Stadium. End of the First Quarter.
Score: SF Gold Rush 7 : 0 LA Horns.
"LE-VI! LE-VI! LE-VI!"
The chant started as a rumble and grew into a thunderstorm. It was loud enough to shake the concrete foundations of the stadium. Just ten minutes ago, these people were booing him. Now? They looked ready to rush the field and kiss his muddy cleats.
Levi tossed the ball to the official and walked back to the sideline, his face completely expressionless.
As he reached the bench, the Gold Rush players parted like the Red Sea. They looked at him like he was an alien species.
Only one man broke the barrier.
George "The Viking" Kitts, the team's eccentric Tight End, rushed over. His face was beet red from screaming. He slammed his hand onto Levi's helmet.
"HOLY S**T! Bro! Did you see that? You tossed The Titan like a ragdoll! That's Aaron Don! I can't even move him! What did you eat for breakfast? Scrap metal?!"
Levi rubbed his ringing helmet and smiled faintly. "Easy, George. My head isn't as hard as my shoulder."
While the Gold Rush celebrated, chaos erupted on the other sideline.
"FOUL! THAT IS A FLAGRANT FOUL!!"
The LA Horns Head Coach, Sean Vay, had lost his usual cool demeanor. He stormed onto the field, veins bulging in his neck, grabbing the Head Referee by the collar. He pointed a shaking finger at Levi.
"Check his equipment! Right now! Immediately!"
Vay was screaming, spit flying everywhere. "Human muscle cannot push Aaron Don backward! He has to be wearing an exoskeleton! Or hydraulic pistons under his pads! It's rigged! He's cheating!"
The Horns players swarmed the ref, backing up their coach.
"Yeah! Hitting him felt like hitting a steel plate!"
"My wrist is still numb! That is not flesh!"
They needed a reason.
They had to find a reason.
If they admitted that a 210lb Asian fullback just physically dominated them, their egos would never recover. It was easier to believe he was a cyborg than to admit they were weak.
The Head Referee looked at the near-riot on the Horns' sideline. He frowned and blew his whistle sharply.
TWEEEEET!
"Official Timeout! Equipment Check on Number 33!"
The crowd gasped. A hush fell over the stadium.
The camera crews zoomed in. Levi's face filled the giant Jumbotron.
On the sideline, Coach Shannon sneered, crossing his arms. "Let them check. Sophie, get the medical report ready. We're going to slap them in the face with science."
Levi looked at the officiating crew walking toward him. He sighed, spread his hands, and walked to the hash marks.
He stood there like a model on a runway.
"Number 33, lift your jersey," the Referee ordered sternly.
Levi didn't hesitate. He grabbed the bottom of his tight jersey and yanked it up to his chest.
Instantly, the image was beamed to millions of screens.
And millions of jaws hit the floor.
No armor.
No steel plates.
No hydraulic wires.
There was only muscle.
Terrifying, high-definition muscle.
His abs and obliques were flushed with blood from the exertion, looking like they were carved out of jagged rock. Every fiber was visible. It was a masterpiece of biological engineering.
"Need to check anything else, Ref?" Levi asked, his tone mocking. "I can take the pants off too, but that'll cost extra."
High-pitched screams erupted from the female fans in the stands.
On the sideline, Dr. Sophie watched the screen, her face turning crimson. "Pervert..." she muttered, though she didn't look away.
The Referee coughed awkwardly. But he wasn't satisfied yet. The Horns were threatening a lawsuit. He had to be sure.
He reached out with a gloved hand and poked Levi's oblique muscle.
Tap. Tap.
The Referee froze.
The texture... it was wrong.
It didn't yield like flesh. It felt like poking a heavy-duty truck tire. It had a weird, metallic resilience.
The Ref took off his glove. He made a fist and knocked on Levi's pectoral muscle.
THUD.
A dull, heavy sound. Like knocking on a wooden door.
The Referee's eyes widened. He had officiated the league for twenty years. He had touched thousands of athletes. He had never felt a human body that felt like this.
Is this kid even carbon-based?
"Well, Mr. Referee?" Levi raised an eyebrow.
The Ref took a deep breath. He turned to his microphone and announced to the silent stadium:
"Inspection complete. Number 33 is legal. No foreign objects found. The game continues!"
"BOOM!!!"
The stadium exploded!
"HEAR THAT?! IT'S ALL NATURAL!"
"CRY MORE, LA! GO HOME TO MOMMY!"
On the Horns' sideline, Coach Sean Vay's knees gave out. He stumbled back, looking like he'd seen a ghost.
It's... real?
Just muscle?
A Horns linebacker, the one who had screamed about the steel plate earlier, stared at Levi putting his jersey back on. His expression shifted.
It wasn't anger anymore.
It was fear.
Deep, primal fear.
If it was cheating, they could be angry.
But if it was real... that meant they were fighting a monster they couldn't hurt.
"How... how do we stop that?" someone whispered on the bench.
The game resumed.
But the momentum had shifted completely. The Horns' spirit was broken.
Second Quarter. 8:00 on the clock.
Gold Rush offense.
Quarterback Brock P. wasn't an idiot. He saw the fear in the enemy's eyes. He didn't even look at his wide receivers. He turned and shoved the ball into Levi's chest.
"Levi! Again!" The announcer screamed.
Levi took the handoff and hit the "A" Gap up the middle.
Standing in his way was a Horns Linebacker—a 250lb tough guy.
Normally, this linebacker would dive in for a tackle without blinking.
But this time?
His brain flashed back to his teammates flying through the air. He remembered the sound of the Ref knocking on Levi's chest. Thud.
In that 0.1 second of engagement... he hesitated.
He flinched.
He instinctively turned his shoulder away, trying to avoid a head-on collision.
Fatal mistake.
Levi smelled the fear.
He didn't slow down. He just brushed past the linebacker, dropping his shoulder slightly to deliver a "love tap."
BAM!
Even with a glancing blow, the linebacker spun like a top. He lost his balance and fell on his butt, looking ridiculous.
Levi didn't even look back.
"Too scared to tackle? Get out of my way."
He galloped for another 20 yards before stepping out of bounds.
The entire Horns defense looked like a wet paper towel. They were soft. They were terrified.
On the sideline, Dr. Sophie was scribbling furiously in her notebook, her eyes shining with scientific curiosity.
"Bone density +8.5... Muscle hardness comparable to Kevlar... Levi, are you God's masterpiece or the Devil's joke?"
Behind her, in the expensive seats, an older Chinese fan was waving a red flag, screaming at a confused American fan next to him:
"Kung Fu! You know? Chinese Iron Body! Golden Bell Cover!"
The American fan nodded aggressively, his beer spilling.
"Yeah! I get it! Bruce Lee! Iron Man! LE-VI!!"