"Tyson Rogers, you earned 152 points. Alex Rogers, 151," the examiner announced. "Respectively, fifth and sixth place in the drill."
Alex's expression grew serious. Tyson, in disparity, beamed as if he had just won the entire drill.
Tyson pumped his fists like he had just dethroned a champion. "Yes!" His team erupted in wild cheers, celebrating as if they had just secured first place.
Tim, who had actually come in first, stood there, confused. Wasn't he supposed to be celebrating? His team exchanged uneasy glances, shifting uncomfortably as they watched Tyson's squad cheer wildly.
"Are they fools?" someone whispered.
"We ought to be the ones celebrating, not them."
"Right? What's so great about fifth place?"
Whispers circulated among the crowd, yet no one dared to speak aloud. Everyone knew who Tyson was—and what he was capable of.
