— Utter silence.
Even though Lance was provoking, taunting, and waiting, the section of the stands directly ahead had been completely stunned, frozen in fear. They were too shocked to react. If they didn't want to be caught wetting themselves, they had to desperately control their bladders now. Staring at Lance's radiant smile was like looking directly at Lucifer.
Trembling.
It would probably take a while for them to recover from this.
It wasn't until nearby spectators noticed the scene, frowning at the group of stunned idiots, that things resumed. Full of disdain, others stood up and once again unleashed curses and insults, filling Gillette Stadium with noise.
But—
Lance wasn't afraid.
Not only unafraid, he even smiled with satisfaction, nodding slightly.
Stepping back, Lance returned to Mahomes' side, bumping him gently on the shoulder, "Remember this scene. The louder and wilder they get, the more afraid they are. They mask their weakness and inferiority with violence and filth. Even victory can't hide their cowardice and fear."
"We'll be back. And when we do, we'll strike back."
Every word, etched deep in Mahomes' chest.
Unconsciously, Mahomes straightened his back, looking again at those snarling, twisted faces, a new feeling blooming in his mind.
Not anger. Not bitterness. But a restless passion, rekindled like a flame.
Gillette Stadium quickly proved Lance right—
They had seen that moment. They had seen the defiant Lance. They had seen their own Patriots fans cowering before him.
New England had just won, finally getting their revenge on home turf, but now? Watching the defeated 'enemy' swagger around their house infuriated them even more. Their rage hit a boiling point as curses, insults, and jeers poured down like a torrential storm, drowning the Kansas City Chiefs.
And not just words — water bottles, jerseys, shoes, phones, wallets — anything within reach came hurtling down. The scene teetered on the edge of chaos.
And it only escalated further.
At the post-game press conference, reporters swarmed like sharks, but surprisingly, they didn't surround Lance. Instead, they encircled Coach Reid three layers deep.
"Coach Reid, how do you view Lance's provocation of home fans after the game? There are rumors he issued death threats to the crowd. What's your response? Will the Chiefs discipline Lance?"
Words spun like blades — flipping facts, shifting blame, pinning it all on Lance. If these rumors stuck, Lance would face a storm of condemnation—
Classic Foxborough.
If Reid didn't believe Belichick and the Patriots had a hand in orchestrating this narrative, he wasn't paying attention.
But—
Reid was no rookie. No amount of media pressure could shake him.
"I always thought journalism was about finding truth and reporting facts. Clearly, some reporters here disagree," Reid's tone was calm but sharp, "You jump to conclusions without investigation, twisting black into white, muddying the waters. Is this an individual failing? Or just another New England 'tradition'?"
Polite but piercing.
Reid's easygoing smile remained, but beneath the surface, barbs flew, pulling the entire New England region into the line of fire.
In the next second, the smile vanished, replaced by rare sternness.
"First, let me be clear: Lance doesn't provoke fans. Never has, never will. And if any reporters choose to ignore this, let me remind you — Lance is an Asian player, a minority in this league. He's the one enduring provocation and abuse."
"To date, Lance has never retaliated against fans. His only response is through performance on the field."
"Tonight was no different."
"The real issue is certain disgraceful fans targeting our young quarterback, Mahomes, even attacking his family. That's when Lance stepped in, to protect his teammate."
"So punishment?"
"No. I will not punish my player. In fact, I've already reported this to the league, demanding a full investigation. The Patriots owe my players and my team an apology. No fan, anywhere, has the right to behave like that."
"If reporters or others want to cover this up, let me be clear: we won't stay silent."
"We will fight back — on the field and off it. Any more questions?"
Reid was angry now.
It was rare to see Reid drop his usual affable persona, launching a direct counterattack, his words laced with accusations of New England's infamous history—
Just three years ago, the Oscar-winning film Spotlight exposed decades of institutional corruption and abuse in Boston. Everyone knew New England was one of the most conservative, tightly controlled regions in America.
Tonight's chaos at Gillette Stadium? Far from the first incident — it wouldn't be the last.
But Reid refused to back down. The Kansas City Chiefs weren't going to stay quiet, tolerate abuse, or swallow the humiliation. If New England's media expected them to roll over, Reid had one message:
This isn't over.
The local reporter who tried twisting the truth? Perfect target for Reid's fury.
Rarely seen so serious, Reid silenced the entire press room.
As Reid scanned the crowd, he couldn't help but remember what he'd seen before the press conference—
Lance, not in the locker room, but sitting on the stairwell alone, shoulders slumped, expression full of exhaustion and bitterness. Gone was the fearless, defiant captain from the field.
Reid, surprised, paused and called his name.
In an instant, Lance snapped out of it, straightened up, putting on his usual facade.
Only then did Reid realize — the unbreakable Lance was human after all.
It was because he cared so deeply that he always gave everything for the team. It was because he cared that he could ignite those bursts of brilliance under pressure.
But it was also because he cared that defeats like tonight stung more than ever. And the relentless abuse from the stands? Only added salt to the wound.
Beneath the glory, the fame, and the spotlight — Lance was just a second-year kid in the league. A young leader shouldering the team's burden, holding the locker room together, hiding his vulnerability. Only in solitude did he dare let his emotions show.
If Reid hadn't stumbled upon that moment, he never would've known.
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Powerstones?
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