Tuesday, April 8th. 7:30 PM. The Iron Vault.
The arena was packed.
The Roarers spilled out of the tunnel into a wall of noise, the sound crashing down on them like a wave breaking overhead, thick enough to almost press against skin.
Ryan lifted his head and ran his eyes across the stands — a sea of bodies with no end to it, every step of the aisles crammed full.
"Last time we played the Bullets, this place was this full too," he murmured.
"Nah, this is on another level." Kamara nodded at the sidelines. "They got 'em standing in the aisles tonight."
He wasn't wrong. The walls, the aisles, every gap jammed with people waving banners, shouting till their voices gave out, feet planted tight against one another.
The Paladins followed them out in white road uniforms, and boos flecked the wall of sound like dark specks on a roaring tide.
Then the camera found LaVonte — and the booing died.
