"The chance is in our hands. We're going to win."
"I'm confident. We're going to win. It's that simple."
Lamar Jackson gathered his teammates, his eyes firm as he looked around. His voice rang with passion and fire.
Right away, Edwards caught the meaning behind his words—
Clearly, it was a shot at what Lance had famously declared during the Super Bowl earlier in the year.
"Heh." Edwards chuckled. "We're all confident. We're gonna win. But hey, Lamar, we're not settling for a field goal."
He paused. "Hail Mary?"
Jackson's face remained serious. No jokes. He shook his head.
"A Hail Mary is what you throw in desperation. I plan to win this before it comes to that."
He refused to play Lance's game. Every time Lance was in a crisis, he turned it around. That made for great highlights, sure—but if you could dominate from the start, why risk a last-minute miracle?
Jackson didn't need drama.
Forty-three seconds. Three timeouts. The Ravens could end the game. He wouldn't let it come down to a miracle. He'd win it clean.
"Hmph."
Jackson gave a cold snort. "Count of three. One. Two. Three!"
"RAVENS! RAVENS! RAVENS!"
The entire offense echoed the chant, heads held high, stepping onto the field. They were ready—
To win it their way, right here at Arrowhead Stadium, and take a victory from the AFC's top seed.
Jackson truly believed this Ravens team would make the playoffs—and not just that. They'd be the black horse of the Super Bowl, just like the Chiefs last year. He'd show the world that what Lance could do, he could do even better.
And he'd do it cleaner.
He exhaled deeply. After two grinding seasons, this was the moment he'd been sharpening the blade for.
"Defense!"
"Defense!"
The Arrowhead crowd stood as one. Clapping in unison. Voices raw with screams. The atmosphere reached its peak.
A mountain of pressure crashed down.
"Attack!"
Jackson's voice wavered under the storm, nearly torn to shreds by the chaos.
But he stayed locked in. Spun around. Handed the ball off to Edwards—
Surprise.
Didn't see that coming, huh?
With just 43 seconds left, starting from their own 25-yard line, the Ravens chose a run play.
Harbaugh was either a genius or a madman. Even with three timeouts, no one expected this. And that made it work.
The Chiefs defense had backed off. They were bracing for a pass. Linebackers and corners pulled back. The front was wide open.
It reminded everyone of last season's final seconds against Pittsburgh—only this time, the Ravens only needed a field goal, not a touchdown.
Harbaugh didn't care about Jackson's pride or hero moments.
He wanted a win.
Any way possible.
And this run? It was the perfect counter to the Chiefs' defensive gamble.
Edwards lit up. Wide open. Clear path.
He reminded himself—not to be greedy. Ten yards was enough. Get the first down. Don't waste the clock. Save the hero moment for later.
Just ten yards.
That would be more than enough.
Then—he spotted a red jersey up ahead. Chris Jones.
Edwards didn't flinch. In fact, he grinned.
One more sacrifice.
"Bus" Edwards hadn't met a one-on-one matchup he couldn't truck over. A hit from him was like a car crash—just not for him.
He didn't slow down. Didn't change posture. He charged full speed ahead. Not the fastest, but heavy. Powerful.
Like a charging T-Rex.
But wait—where'd he go?
The collision he expected… never came. Edwards was stunned.
Too heavy to react, too slow to adjust—he didn't know what happened.
Chris Jones did.
He knew going head-on was suicide. So he used his brain.
Bent knees. Lowered hips. Shifted center of gravity.
He dropped low—not to shoulder-charge, but to hit waist and hips dead-on. Perfect form tackle.
The hit landed a bit later than usual, but it hit hard.
Jones pushed off the ground, launched with all his power, and unleashed a burst from deep in his core.
Boom—balance shattered.
Not horizontally, but vertically. Edwards had no time to brace. Suddenly, the world flipped upside down.
"My God!"
"He just suplexed him!"
"Unreal! Chris Jones of the Chiefs just solo-stopped Edwards with pure strength. No help!"
"What is this, a sumo match?!"
ROAR!
Arrowhead shook like an earthquake.
Jones stood up and straight-up flung Edwards aside. Didn't even look at him.
Clap. Clap.
He dusted his hands off. No sweat.
On the sideline, Harbaugh froze.
What… the hell just happened?
Edwards lay on the ground, dazed, eyes empty—like he was wondering, "Who am I? Where am I?"
But Harbaugh didn't have time for questions.
Timeout!
The Ravens had to burn one. They hadn't even gained a single yard. But the clock couldn't be allowed to run.
Was this… self-sabotage?
Harbaugh took a deep breath. Stayed calm. Started barking orders again.
Now, the Ravens had no choice.
One way left.
They had to pass.
All the pressure—and all the hope—landed squarely on Jackson's shoulders.
This diamond in the rough, picked 32nd overall, was finally being tested. This was the moment to prove himself. Harbaugh needed to be bold.
2nd down. 10 yards.
Every pair of eyes locked in.
Even casual fans like Karen knew: the Ravens had to throw now.
"Defense!"
Despite the thundering noise, the air felt frozen.
Jackson stared forward. His eyes burned with purpose. His heart thundered in his chest—
This is it.
This is why he came here.
"Attack!"
The snap cracked through the stadium.
----------
Powerstones?
For 20 advance chapters: patreon.com/michaeltranslates