Story:Hidden Marks 1: Between King and Thane
Hidden Marks 1: Between King and Thane
Written by Unskaeth and Faded
Date: 24th of october 2025
After practice, the training facility locker room was nearly empty, the loss from the day before still lingering. Roann, still a rookie, sits quietly in the corner, his T-shirt half-off. His mind was still stuck on missed reads and late rotations from yesterday’s game. He hates losing, but he’s learned to stay composed.
The silence is snapped by the sudden frustrated slam of a locker door. With only one other fur in the locker room, Roann knows the source without having to look. Alan, who’s been in the league for three seasons, has been on his case all preseason and the German shepherd can tell he’s bound for another round..
“Man, I can’t believe we ran those damn obvious plays again.” the cheetah barked to himself, loud enough for Roann to hear across the room. “Who the hell even called that? That fourth quarter run was absolutely garbage.”
Roann looks up slightly. He knows who that’s aimed at. He stayed quiet, hoping it would pass. But it doesn’t.
“Nothing to say rookie??” he glares at Roann across the room. “You keep calling that set like it’s going to work but want to stay quiet? You’re not running the floor, you just do your own thing out there.”
“I called it because they were collapsing earlier…” The shepherd muttered. “The corners were wide open, but we just didn’t get the timing right…”
The cheetah laughs in disbelief, sporting a mock grin. “Oh so Mr. #1 thinks he knows better? Only played a few games and you think you’re ready to run the whole team?”
Roann shakes his head. “No… I just did what the defense gave us. I tried to adjust…”
Alan steps closer. He stares at Roann intensely, his voice hardening.“Adjust? Newbie you adjusted us right into a loss. I had their little rookie Center in the palm of my paw and yet you gave me the fewest touches. You ever think maybe you just don’t know how this team plays?”
Roann meets his eyes, still calm, still polite. “Maybe. But I called a switch three times and no one rotated. That’s not really a system issue… It's more of a communication issue.”
That line sparked something in Alan as his expression shifted. “You saying we didn’t listen?!”
Roann nodded once, evenly. “Yeah… that’s what I’m saying.”
The room goes still for a moment. Alan steps forward again, using every inch of his 7’5” frame to tower over Roann.“Watch your tone, kid.”
“I’m not trying to disrespect you, man,” Roann said as he “But if we can’t talk out there, we can’t win. That’s all I meant.”
Alan scoffed, shaking his head. “Always got an answer huh? You sound just like those media guys hyping you up. You think a few good games in the preseason makes you a leader?”
“No,” He said quietly. “But I care enough to say something.”
It’s not the statement that hits Alan. It’s the fact that Roann said it. Alan’s expression freezes over, eyes sharpening. Roann recognizes the change, a tipping point, that moment where pride overrules reasoning. It’s not basketball anymore. It’s muscle memory, survival instinct.
Roann lowers his voice. “It’s late,” he says, standing now, as he takes off his shirt. “Let’s cool off, talk about this tomorrow.”
Tomorrow’s not good enough for Alan though, not when his pride is already bruised. Not when a rookie just stood his ground. He slammed his fist into the locker beside Roann, metal rattling.“Rook, you really don’t get it, you don’t talk like that to me. Not here.”
Roann pauses for a moment, before exhaling. “I’m just saying what I saw…”
That only enrages the cheetah more as his voice raises further.: “No, you’re trying to sound like you’re the one in charge!”
The shove came suddenly, hard, two handed to the chest. Roann stumbled back, caught himself on the bench. He raised both hands, palms out, breathing slow.
“It’s… fine, man. I’m not trying to fight. Just calm down.”
But Alan wasn’t hearing him anymore. Years in the league, pressure from the loss, getting shown up by a rookie, it all collapsed into one short fuse. He shoved again, even harder, and Roann’s shoulder hit the wall.
For a second, Roann said nothing. Just stared at the floor, breathing slowly through his teeth. That flicker of something old, that survival instinct, sparked under the surface. He could feel the line blurring between restraint and reaction.
As Alan tries to get up all on Roann’s space, he steps to the side, away from the lockers and shoves Alan back.
“I told you I don’t wanna fight!” He said, with a more passive aggressive tone.
He doesn’t want this, not here, not like this. But Alan’s already too far gone. The first swing comes out of nowhere, a heavy right hook that hits across Roann’s cheek. His head snaps to the side, the sting was sharp and painful as it came from Alan’s raw strength.
The second punch comes faster, angrier. Roann slips it, ducks low, his old MMA reflexes kicking in before he even thinks. He grabs for balance, hands locking instinctively around Alan’s waist, and sweeps his leg out in one clean motion. The cheetah crashes backward on the floor.
For a second, Roann freezes. He doesn’t want to hurt him as he was a teammate who is a key part of the team. But Alan’s already pushing back up, furious. Roann circles behind him, hooks an arm around his neck, pulling into a rear choke.
“Just stop, man.” He muttered, voice tight. “It’s over! I’ll let go if you calm down!”
Alan thrashes, huge arms swinging, and suddenly he rises upward, sheer strength overpowering Roann’s leverage. He slams Roann into the lockers, then down onto the floor. Pain shoots through Roann’s shoulder. He lets go immediately, rolling back, trying to create space.
Alan climbs on top, throwing down punches, fueled with rage. Roann blocks most of them, forearms tight, head tucked. One punch sneaks in and rattles him, but it clears his focus. As Alan postures up for another strike, Roann catches his wrist mid swing and plants his foot into the cheetah’s abdomen.
Then, a perfectly timed up kick hits Alan’s jaw, making him stumble a little bit forward. Roann flows with it, traps one arm, pulls Alan’s head down and throws his leg over the cheetah’s neck. The triangle choke clamps down hard, slowly tightening as Alan’s vision starts to darken, struggling to stay conscious.
Alan tries to stand up, using his raw strength again, but Roann anticipates it this time. He underhooks the cheetah’s leg and angles his hips, anchoring himself and breaking Alan’s posture. There is no lift, no slam this time.
Then something cold flickers in Roann’s eyes.
The choke is already locked, Alan’s posture broken. Roann could finish it clean.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he drives his forearm hard across Alan’s muzzle, cranking the face sideways as he tightens his legs. Pain spikes first. Then panic after. There’s no emotion behind it. Just intent. A fast finish. Something old and unwelcome wakes up in him again.
Alan jerks violently at first, clawing at Roann’s arms desperately. But the struggle drains out of him quickly, his knees wobble as his breath gives out. His eyes slowly drift away from the shepherd.
That’s the moment Roann snaps out of it, realising what he’s done, too late to undo it.
He immediately releases the choke, pushing himself away from the nearly unconscious cheetah. Alan gasps for air, collapsing sideways on the floor.
Roann rises slowly, chest heaving, hands shaking slightly. He doesn’t look victorious, instead he looks ashamed.
He walked toward the exit, breathing hard. A glimpse of himself in the wall mirror and stops. His expression stays flat as his reflection stares back at him, bruised and exhausted.
A faint black and purple fades under his left eye, a small cut across his cheekbone, his lip split on one side and scratch marks across his forearm.
His eyes are the worst part. Wide, shaky, haunted by the guy he thought he wasn’t anymore. Roann looks away. He doesn’t say a word as he pushes the door open and walks out.
Still on the floor, stars still danced in Alan’s vision. Nonetheless he forced himself upright from the floor. His heartbeat struck like a hammer in his head, right in rhythm with the throbbing pain of his jaw where Roann’s heel had snapped his head back.
The cheetah’s breathing slowly evened out, a hard swallow causing him to wince at the burn crawling down his temples and the ache of his jaw flared. Rubbing his jaw, his pawpads met the angry heat of his body responding to the hit, tender and surely going swell.
Humiliation overwhelmed him as he sat there on the cold tile. Slowly it morphed to anger as he let a low growl rumble in his chest. Alan was seven foot five and three hundred and some pounds of muscle, how did that damned rookie that barely came up to his shoulders humiliate him like that.
Leaning back against the lockers he let the cool metal chill the back of his head while his mind raced. How was he going to play this off, surely he’d have some swelling by tomorrow. Like hell would he tell anyone the truth. Not the coaches. Not the staff. Not the locker room full of guys who would’ve paid good money to see the giant cheetah flat on his back. His pride could be bruised, shattered even, but his reputation? That stayed intact.
Slowly he placed an unsteady paw under him and pushed himself upright. His legs wobbled in protest as he had to steady himself against the lockers. Needing to take deep breaths to fight through the dizziness until the room stopped tilting and the ringing abated in his ears.
He straightened up, shaking out his sore arms as he resolved himself. No one would hear about this. Not from him, not ever. Roann might have won this time, but the rookie had a hell of a lot still to come his way.
Featured Characters
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