The Westridge team bus pulled into the crowded parking lot of the Eastern Regional Indoor Track Complex. Through the windows, Zen could see at least a dozen other school buses, team vans, and a sea of parents' cars.
"Welcome to regionals," Coach Dormer announced, standing at the front of the bus. "Equipment check before we exit."
Trey pressed his face against the window. "Yo, this place is like the Olympics but with more acne and less sponsorship money."
Andre rolled his eyes. "Focus, Williams."
"I am focused," Trey replied. "Focused on the fact that Lincoln Prep has matching custom warmups." He pointed to a group of athletes in navy and gold. "Meanwhile we're out here looking like we shop at different stores."
The team filed off the bus into the crisp morning air. Zen shouldered his bag, immediately taking in the scale of the venue. The massive facility dominated the landscape, its modern architecture a stark contrast to their small high school gym.
DING
[VENUE ANALYSIS ACTIVE]
[COMPETITION ENVIRONMENT: CHAMPIONSHIP LEVEL]
[ESTIMATED PARTICIPANTS: 800+ ATHLETES]
[SPECTATOR CAPACITY: 3000, CURRENTLY 70% FILLED]
Inside, the facility was even more impressive. The ceiling soared overhead, professional lighting illuminating a pristine 200-meter banked track. Eight lanes of royal blue surface curved perfectly around the infield, which bustled with officials setting up for field events. The stands were already half-full despite the early hour.
"Holy crap," Diego muttered. "This is serious."
"What gave it away?" Trey asked. "The Olympic-sized track or the fact that Lincoln's coach is wearing a suit?" He pointed to their rival's head coach, who indeed wore a blazer on the sidelines.
Coach Dormer led them to the team check-in area, where they received credentials and meet programs. The volunteers recognized D'Angelo immediately.
"Brown from Westridge, right?" one asked, handing him his bib number. "Good luck today. Though you probably don't need it."
D'Angelo nodded politely but didn't engage further. His focus was already elsewhere, mentally preparing for his race.
They claimed a small section of the warm-up area, which was already crowded with athletes from across the state. Teams stretched, jogged, and performed dynamic warm-ups in every available space.
"Schedule check," Coach announced. "D'Angelo's 800 is at 11:30. Zen's 200 prelims at 1:15, 400 prelims tomorrow morning, 400 finals tomorrow afternoon."
Zen nodded, mentally noting the timing. The system flashed an update.
DING
[COMPETITION SCHEDULE ANALYZED]
[ENERGY MANAGEMENT PROTOCOL ACTIVATED]
[RECOMMENDATION: OBSERVE EARLY EVENTS, INITIATE WARM-UP AT 12:30]
"Let's find seats," Andre suggested. "Watch some events before we need to warm up."
They navigated through the growing crowd, finding space in the athlete section of the bleachers. The atmosphere was electric, conversations and announcements creating a constant background buzz.
Trey flipped through the meet program. "Yo, D'Angelo's seeded first in the 800 by like three seconds. That's wild."
Andre nodded. "He's undefeated for a reason."
Diego pointed to the 200m listings. "Zen, you're seeded fifth. Not bad for a freshman."
"Top two in each heat plus next four fastest times advance to finals," Andre read. "Sixteen in prelims, eight in finals."
Zen studied the competition listings while the system analyzed the data.
DING
[200M COMPETITION ANALYSIS]
[TOP SEED: MARCUS JACKSON, LINCOLN PREP - 21.8]
[YOUR SEED: 5TH - 22.0]
[QUALIFYING PROBABILITY: 85%]
Time passed with various preliminary events and field competitions. The team watched with interest as the women's shot put final concluded and several sprint prelims ran. The facility grew more crowded, the energy building with each passing hour.
"There's D'Angelo," Trey said suddenly, pointing to the warm-up track.
Their teammate had emerged for his warm-up routine, drawing immediate attention. Several athletes pointed or nudged their teammates as he passed. His reputation clearly preceded him.
"Man's got a whole fan club," Trey commented. "And he doesn't even notice."
"He notices," Andre replied. "He just doesn't care."
As 11:30 approached, the announcer's voice boomed through the facility.
"Next up, the men's 800 meter run, final. Athletes, please report to the clerk of course."
The team's attention focused completely on the track. This was D'Angelo's signature event, the reason for his legendary status.
"This is gonna be good," Trey rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
Eight runners assembled on the starting line, D'Angelo in lane one with his favorite blue headband. While the other runners fidgeted or bounced nervously, he stood perfectly still, his breathing controlled and eyes focused straight ahead.
The announcer introduced each athlete, saving D'Angelo for last.
"And in lane one, the top seed from Westridge High School, undefeated in state competition and representing the United States internationally last summer, D'Angelo Brown!"
The crowd erupted in applause, clearly familiar with his accomplishments. D'Angelo acknowledged them with a small nod before returning to his pre-race focus.
"Runners, to your marks!"
The starter's gun fired, and D'Angelo immediately seized the lead. His first three strides were explosive, claiming the inside position before anyone else could react. The other runners tried to stay with him, but D'Angelo was already setting his own pace, controlling the race from the front.
"He's leading from the gun," Trey explained excitedly. "That means he's feeling it today."
By the first 200 meters, D'Angelo had established a comfortable lead, his stride smooth and powerful. A few runners attempted to keep pace, but a gap was already forming between him and the field.
"He's not even pushing yet," Andre noted, his voice filled with admiration.
The announcer called the 400m split: "54.1 seconds at the halfway mark for Brown of Westridge!"
Despite the fast pace, D'Angelo looked completely relaxed, his breathing controlled, his form impeccable. He was running his own race, unbothered by the competition behind him.
As they entered the second 400 meters, D'Angelo seemed to make a decision. Almost casually, he increased his tempo, extending his lead with seemingly minimal effort. The gap behind him grew visibly larger with each passing stride.
At the 600-meter mark, what had been a race became an exhibition. D'Angelo increased the pace again whenever he wanted, his complete control of the event evident to everyone watching. The field continued falling further behind, any pretense of competition fading.
"This is ridiculous," Diego said, shaking his head in disbelief.
The final 200 meters showcased D'Angelo's complete mastery. While other runners strained and struggled, he flowed around the track with perfect technique, extending his lead with every stride. Nobody even attempted to challenge him anymore. They were simply running for second place.
D'Angelo crossed the finish line in 1:49.37, turning to see the second-place runner still rounding the final curve, nearly four seconds behind.
"BRO!" Trey exploded, grabbing Diego's shoulder. "Did y'all just see that?! Man just made everyone else look like they were jogging!"
The crowd gave D'Angelo a standing ovation as he took a modest victory lap, acknowledging their applause with raised hands.
"That's not human!" Trey continued, unable to contain his excitement. "He lapped half the field! In an 800!"
"He didn't lap anyone," Andre corrected. "It was only a four-second gap."
"Felt like lapping to me," Trey insisted. "D'Angelo really just said 'watch this' and destroyed souls out there!"
"Alright man, stop the glazing," Diego laughed.
"This ain't glazing, this is facts!" Trey defended himself. "We got a superhuman on our relay!"
Zen couldn't help smiling at Trey's enthusiasm, but he was also processing what he'd just witnessed. D'Angelo hadn't just won; he'd dictated every aspect of the race from start to finish. It was a level of dominance Zen hadn't expected, even knowing D'Angelo's reputation. To be able to control a championship race so completely spoke to his exceptional talent.
DING
[TEAMMATE PERFORMANCE ANALYSIS: D'ANGELO BROWN]
[800M TIME: 1:49.37 - NATIONAL CLASS]
[RACING DOMINANCE: COMPLETE CONTROL]
[ESTIMATED 400M SPLIT CAPABILITY: 46.5-47.0]
[RELAY IMPLICATION: SIGNIFICANT ADVANTAGE]
D'Angelo rejoined them in the stands after his cool-down, accepting their congratulations with characteristic humility.
"Great race," Zen told him sincerely.
"Thanks." D'Angelo nodded. "Felt good."
"Felt good?" Trey echoed incredulously. "You just ran almost four seconds ahead of everyone else, and it 'felt good'?"
"Could have been faster," D'Angelo shrugged. "Didn't need to be."
"We might actually win this thing," Trey said, returning to thoughts of their 4x400 relay. "With you anchoring, we've got a serious shot."
"If everyone executes," D'Angelo replied. His tone wasn't boastful or pressuring, just matter-of-fact. "It's about the full team, not just one leg."
Andre nodded in agreement. "Positioning is key. Zen needs to get us in good position from the start, I need to maintain, Diego needs to set up D'Angelo with tactical advantage."
"I'll do my part," Zen assured them, confidence in his voice.
The next hour passed quickly as they watched various events. Zen's focus gradually shifted from spectator to competitor as his 200m prelims approached. The system began providing pre-race analysis.
DING
[200M PRE-RACE PREPARATION]
[WARM-UP PROTOCOL INITIATION TIME: 12:30]
[TACTICAL RECOMMENDATION: CONTROLLED FIRST 100M, STRONG FINISH]
[GOAL: TOP TWO FINISH IN HEAT FOR AUTOMATIC QUALIFICATION]
Coach Dormer approached their section. "Zen, time to start getting ready. D'Angelo, outstanding race earlier."
"Thanks, Coach," D'Angelo replied.
Zen stood to begin his warm-up routine when he spotted his parents in the stands. His mother waved enthusiastically while his father gave a single nod of encouragement.
"Your dad looks intense," Trey observed.
"He's just focused," Zen replied. "Like father, like son."
"Well, go show them what speed looks like," Trey said, offering a fist bump. "First freshman to make the 200 finals."
"Count on it," Zen replied, bumping Trey's fist before heading down to the warm-up area.
As he jogged toward the warm-up track, the announcer's voice echoed through the facility.
"Next up, we have the men's 200 meter dash preliminary rounds. All 200 meter competitors report to the staging area for check-in."
Zen's heart rate increased immediately at the announcement. This was it. His championship debut was minutes away.
DING
[COMPETITION MODE ACTIVATED]
[HEART RATE: OPTIMAL RANGE]
[FOCUS LEVEL: CHAMPIONSHIP CALIBER]
[STATUS: READY]
The time for watching was over. Now it was his turn to perform.