Meanwhile, in the other locker room, Drex stepped out of the shower stall, towel slung low on his hips.
Nothing could beat the bliss of a post victory shower, he felt good: legs loose, shoulders relaxed, all good in the best world.
Entering the locker room again, he expected the usual post-game chaos: lockers slamming, music blasting, someone yelling about whose turn it was to buy protein shakes.
Instead he walked into silence.
The locker room was dim, only the overhead fluorescents flickering half-dead.
The boys were still in their game outfits, jerseys soaked with dried sweat for mac, perfectly intact for the others NPCs.
No one had showered.
They sat or stood in a loose circle, shoulders tense, eyes on the floor.
Drex stopped mid-step, towel dripping on the tile.
"…What the hell happened?"
Mac sat on the bench, elbows on knees, staring at nothing.
His hands trembled around the water bottle in his hand.
Drex followed his gaze, nothing there, and frowned.
