Up in the boxes, Mirage slammed his fist against the railing.
"This is a joke. Look at Griffin... he is trying so hard, running himself into the ground just to touch him, and the big guy is just treating them like a clown."
"He is not even using his teammates this time," Chloe whispered. Her fingers were shaking as she watched the game. "What did you say about making him use all his energy? Erica's traps are useless now, this is what I was saying..."
With five minutes left on the clock, the arena felt like a pressure cooker about to blow. Griffin had completely lost it. He was breathing hard, those loud, desperate gasps for air, and his spit was flying from his mouth as he chased Nash back toward the paint.
But here is the thing that was really killing Griffin: Nash was not even trash-talking him anymore. The big guy had gone totally silent. He was just ignoring Griffin like he wasn't even there, calmly destroying the rest of the Falcons.
