Nathe07
patreon
MD - Chapter 157: Chaos
🕑 Added 2025-07-13 16:01:34 +0000 UTCAndrew and company arrived at the mall ten minutes early. Despite Andrew's usual confidence, some of the paranoia passed on to him by Mitche
Andrew and company arrived at the mall ten minutes early. Despite Andrew's usual confidence, some of the paranoia passed on to him by Mitche
Andrew and company arrived at the mall ten minutes early.
Despite Andrew's usual confidence, some of the paranoia passed on to him by Mitchell, Cam, Howard, and Leonard had started to take effect. That’s why, instead of parking in the usual area, they chose a less crowded underground level.
“Feels like we’re fugitives,” Andrew said as he turned off the engine and stepped out of the car.
“Not fugitives... just cautious,” Leonard corrected, adjusting his glasses with mock seriousness.
Haley parked next to them, got out of her car, and crossed her arms as she approached. “Seriously? We parked this far?”
“Yes,” Howard replied, as if it were obvious. “If we have to make a run for it and the car’s in a busy area, they could surround us before we even get it started. This underground level is safer.”
“Whoa, you guys are paranoid... you sound like my mom,” muttered Haley, though she couldn’t help but smile at the over-the-top reasoning.
They went up one of the less-traveled staircases and took one of the side corridors on the second floor. From there, they knew they’d have a good view of the central area: a large circular fountain surrounded by benches, glowing signs, and enough space for five to six hundred people to move around comfortably.
Andrew put on his cap to avoid being recognized before their recon mission.
“I feel like we’re in a spy movie,” Haley said in a hushed voice as they walked past a clothing store. “Do that many people really come just to see you? I mean… it’s amazing, but also weird.”
“Yeah,” Leonard nodded, “It’s different hearing about it than actually seeing it.”
Both of them knew Andrew had come last year, taken pictures, signed autographs, and received gifts from fans, but hearing about it wasn’t the same as experiencing it in the next few minutes.
“I feel like I’m in Mission Impossible,” Howard muttered, already daydreaming. “I wish I had a harness to drop from the ceiling and get a panoramic shot.”
Andrew chuckled softly.
They finally reached the railing on the second floor. Andrew frowned as he heard the noise from afar. They peeked down discreetly. Below, right in front of the fountain… there was no space left.
It looked like a mini convention had taken over the area. There were handmade banners, people in sports jerseys, many with the number 12, Andrew’s number, signs that read things like: 'Team Andrew!' and 'The GOAT!' and cell phone cameras pointing in every direction.
Kids with footballs accompanied by their parents, groups of teens, boys and girls alike. Some even had tripods and semi-professional cameras. There had to be at least 600 people.
“Holy mother of…” Howard whistled, staring, “The place is packed.”
“Oh my God…” Haley whispered, part disbelief, part awe. “The people who comment on your videos… they’re real!”
“What, did you think they were bots?” Andrew asked, amused, though a little nervous seeing that many people.
Last year, the place hadn’t filled up. Now, it looked like you couldn’t even fit a pin in there. How was he supposed to greet, take photos, and sign autographs for that many people? It would take forever, or he’d have to go way faster if he didn’t want anyone left out.
And hopefully, the crowd would stay civilized while they waited…
Unlike last year, Mitchell wasn’t here to organize a line and keep things orderly like a professional event manager.
“I’m gonna get a quick shot from here,” Howard said, discreetly turning on his camera.
He filmed while murmuring an estimated headcount and capturing the colorful crowd.
Andrew also took out his phone and snapped a quick picture to send to Pippa, who was visiting her grandparents in England as she did every year with her family.
[Don't cry for me, I'm already dead]
He was being a bit dramatic.
Andrew put his phone away, took a deep breath, and lowered the brim of his cap as if he were about to walk onto the football field for a championship game.
“Well... time to head down. If we can even find a way through.”
Leonard hesitated. He touched the pocket where he kept his asthma inhaler. His fingers trembled slightly.
“Can I stay here?” he asked, not sounding very convinced.
Howard, already with the camera slung over his shoulder, aimed it at him mercilessly. “You chickening out already?”
But before Leonard could respond, Andrew stepped in, his tone calm and understanding. “If you want to stay, it’s okay. I get it.”
“I’m going,” said Haley, smiling with a mix of curiosity and excitement. “I want to see the madness up close. I want the show.”
Leonard stayed silent for a few seconds before finally speaking. “No… I’m going. I can’t back out now…”
“Alright, let’s go,” said Howard, securing the camera strap over his shoulder. He had no choice, and honestly, he wanted to go and record everything from the front lines.
Andrew finally took off his cap and tucked it into the back pocket of his shorts. The heat-dampened hair naturally fell to one side.
They began descending the escalator. The first glances didn’t take long to turn their way. First two boys, then a group of five teens. A girl raised her phone and murmured Andrew’s name, eyes wide, almost in reverence.
The murmur spread like invisible wildfire. By the time they stepped onto the first floor, the initial quiet had been replaced by an eruption.
Screams. Applause. Voices overlapping in rising excitement.
“It’s him! It’s Andrew!”
“Oh my God, he’s real!”
“Andrew, I love you!! Go Eagles!!”
Dozens of phones lifted all at once, pointed straight at him. Some people began to subtly push their way forward through the crowd as best they could. The pressure was rising.
Everything surged toward Andrew and the rest the moment they touched the ground. They didn’t walk, they were swallowed.
The group barely managed to form a small moving capsule, with Andrew at the front. Haley and Leonard followed behind, trying to hold back a tide of hands reaching out to touch Andrew, take a photo, hand him letters, jerseys, footballs, or just brush him, as if that were enough.
Andrew stayed calm. He smiled. Waved. Opened his arms. Started signing whatever was passed to him. Some quick autographs, others amid shoves. A photo here, another there. Most of it chaotic, like every fan feared this might be their only chance.
A girl managed to grip his forearm tightly. Not violently, but with a desperation overflowing with pure admiration. Another girl hung on his arm for a few seconds before Haley stepped in with a polite but firm, “Hey! Easy.”
Howard kept filming, spinning in place, doing his best not to be shoved out of the frame. Leonard, with his backpack now hanging on his chest, followed behind Andrew as he cleared a path.
The space was suffocating. Last year there had been about 200 or 300 people in a space for 500. Now… probably over 600, and that was being optimistic. There was no room left. Not even clear walkways. Just a swarm focused on one energy source: him.
“Sign my cap!”
“Here, please, my shirt!”
“Just one photo, please!”
“A photo with my son, Andrew!”
Andrew paused briefly, raised both hands, and tried to flash his most reassuring smile.
“Let’s take it slow! We’ve got the whole afternoon! I’ll make sure to greet everyone!”
The words felt like a breath of fresh air in the middle of a collective panic. A few people stepped back. Others just stood still, taking deep breaths, clinging to the hope that, somehow, their turn would come.
But the relief was short-lived. Because the moment Andrew signed one shirt, another hand was already extended, another phone shoved in his face, another voice begging for “just one second” for a picture.
Haley and Leonard, backpacks on, did their part. Andrew received, thanked, and handed things off. They stored the gifts all sorts of items: letters, shirts, drawings on notebook paper, even small plush toys.
“Shit…” Haley muttered, trying to place a gift without squishing it. “At this rate, our backpacks won’t be enough.”
Leonard, drenched in sweat like he’d just finished a marathon, could barely reply. His hair was stuck to his forehead, and his glasses were fogged up. His only job now was to hold things, store them, and try not to faint.
Meanwhile, Andrew kept his composure with surgical precision. He smiled. Waved. Signed. Gave quick hugs. Thanked them. Then repeated the cycle. Like a machine perfectly calibrated for express human interaction.
Until a girl, maybe 13 or 14, rushed toward him with red eyes and trembling lips. At first, she just looked emotional, but when she got in front of him, she burst.
“Aaaahhh!!” she screamed so loudly several people around her jumped. The girl didn’t care. She covered her mouth with both hands.
“I can’t… I can’t believe it… you’re real! You’re here! You’re alive!”
Andrew froze for a second. He looked at Leonard, then at Howard, who was capturing everything with the camera, and finally at Haley, who shrugged, clearly just as confused.
“Am I… alive?” Andrew repeated, forcing a smile.
“I... I wrote to you three times on Facebook! And I dreamed you died in a plane crash!”
Andrew could only nod slowly, searching for the right words.
“Well, luckily I’m still in one piece,” he said kindly. He leaned in, took the photo with her, signed her cap, accepted a handmade keychain with his name on it, thanked her, and moved on to the next fan already lunging for a photo.
“And you said this would be civilized and calm,” Howard panted with a faint smile, still filming as he wiped his sweaty forehead with his free hand.
Andrew ignored him. The clock didn’t stop, and the lines, if they could still be called that, weren’t getting any shorter. They had been going at that frantic pace for nearly an hour. The sun was pouring through the high mall windows.
The air was thick and sticky. Andrew’s shirt clung to his torso, his hair was damp, and his arms bore marks from fingers and nails, but he still held his ground. His elite physical condition and height kept him just above the chaos, literally. He could still see over the crowd. He could still move.
Howard looked like he’d just stepped out of a shower, but he never stopped filming, even as he was shoved around.
And then the wave came.
It wasn’t just more people. It was like a second surge.
Those in the back. The ones who couldn’t see. The ones who had waited over an hour without moving. The ones who’d heard rumors that “he’s about to leave.”
They started pushing. First gently. Then forcefully. Like a tide. Some screamed. Others shouted for order. No one listened.
“There he is! Let me through! Just one photo! I brought gifts!”
“Push through or we’ll miss him!”
“Andrew, sign my arm and I’ll never wash it!”
The situation turned surreal.
Banners, footballs, and shirts flying.
A tall guy with dreadlocks trying to climb a decorative planter.
A kid wearing a football helmet being lifted by his dad like Simba in The Lion King.
Andrew turned to his friends. “I think this is our cue to retreat, right?”
“Obviously! Lead the way, quarterback!” Haley shouted, raising her voice to be heard and clutching his back like a human shield.
Leonard, wearing an expression of absolute horror, clung to the group like a limpet.
Howard said nothing. He just laughed, and kept filming, even when a football whizzed past his head.
Andrew spotted an emergency exit about ten meters away, barely visible between concrete pillars and a decorative sculpture.
He started advancing with force, feet planted firmly like in a training drill. He pushed with his shoulder, used his arms to clear a path, dodged a buzz-cut teen who almost jumped on him.
Haley and Leonard stuck to him, hanging on however they could.
They looked like human parasites trying to survive an earthquake.
Howard followed behind, stumbling, laughing, filming it all like it was the best documentary of his life.
And then, like a miracle, a security guard appeared. Maybe by coincidence. Maybe because he was actually doing his job and needed to find out what the hell was going on and who was responsible for the chaos.
The guard, pushing through teens and realizing who Andrew was and why everyone was screaming and swarming him, put the pieces together.
He shoved the emergency door open and let them escape.
“Thanks!” Andrew yelled as he passed.
They rushed through, and the door slammed shut behind them.
The silence was brief. Very brief.
Just five seconds later, the door burst open again, and the roar of the crowd surged in like a tidal wave breaking a dam.
“Run!” Andrew shouted, and everyone bolted.
They were in service corridors now. Gray, poorly lit, with concrete walls and “Authorized Personnel Only” signs. Didn’t matter. They ran. Like they were in a zombie movie.
“Split up!” Andrew yelled as they turned a corner. He stopped for a second, looking at Leonard and Haley, “You two escape! I’m the target!”
“Are you insane?! We’re not leaving you behind!” Haley shouted.
‘I’m not gonna die… just run,’ Andrew thought, though deep down he appreciated the gesture. If he could run alone, without slowing down, he’d probably be able to shake the crowd.
“Listen to him! I’m going with him, I need to film this till the end! Gold content, baby!” Howard yelled, camera still strapped to his shoulder like a war correspondent.
Andrew and Howard took a narrow hallway to the left.
Leonard and Haley turned in the opposite direction.
Behind them, footsteps grew louder.
Some fans had already found the escape route.
Others followed blindly, pushed forward by the momentum of collective hysteria.
Howard nearly stumbled, but recovered without ever stopping the recording.
Andrew, his body drenched in sweat from the heat and the endless stream of people hugging and touching him, led the way, eyes scanning like someone trained to read the terrain. And then he saw it, a service staircase with a sign pointing to the underground level.
“This way!” he shouted, taking the lead and bounding down the steps two at a time.
Howard followed, camera swinging as he continued filming their descent. After several levels, they finally reached a heavy door that opened to the underground parking garage.
Andrew stopped. He took a deep breath, pulled his cap back on, adjusting it until it properly shaded his face.
“Let’s move carefully. If we don’t shout or run, they might not spot us so easily,” he whispered.
Howard, soaked and out of breath, nodded. He was still recording, but now more discreetly, using the zoom from waist height.
The level was nearly empty. A few parked cars. Flickering lights buzzing faintly. A stark contrast to the chaos they had just escaped.
“Feels like we’re in a horror movie…” Howard muttered, taking in the eerily calm atmosphere.
“There it is,” Andrew said, pointing to the Camaro.
They walked quickly but didn’t run. Checked their surroundings. Got in without delay. Andrew started the engine. The car’s roar felt like a sigh of relief.
“We can’t stay…” Andrew said, exhaling.
If there had already been such a stampede and chaos, taking pictures, signing autographs, or accepting gifts would be impossible. Plus, the security guard had probably already reported the incident, and they could be kicked out for causing the whole mess…
Howard nodded as Andrew backed out, turned the wheel, and drove toward the exit.
A few minutes later, they were far enough from the mall, traffic flowing normally through the streets of Los Angeles.
Howard finally stopped filming, pulled out his phone, and dialed, putting it on speaker.
“Leonard, where are you?” he asked as soon as the call connected.
“We just got to the Mini. Haley’s driving like she’s in The Fast and the Furious. All good. Mission accomplished.”
Howard let out a laugh and turned to Andrew with a crooked grin. “Escape mission: successful.”
Andrew shook his head, amused, still feeling the rush from the movie-like getaway.
“Let’s hit that café,” he said, spotting one in the distance. “Howard will drop you the location. It’s on me.”
“Got it, we’re on our way,” Leonard replied before hanging up.
Howard sent the address, and a few minutes later, Andrew parked near the café, it had tall windows and an exterior metal staircase. They climbed up to the second floor, where the vibe was calmer. Fewer people. A long row of cushioned seats against the wall, low tables, and soft music in the background.
Andrew and Howard sat first, taking the most secluded corner, far from view in case any fans wandered in, though the place was fifteen minutes away from the mall on foot.
Haley and Leonard arrived a few minutes later, collapsing into the seats with deep sighs of relief, both for having survived and for the café’s air conditioning.
“Are we alive?” Haley asked, dropping into her seat with a long exhale.
“Apparently, yes… You okay?” Andrew asked, looking at Leonard, aware of his asthma.
“Yeah, my inhaler saved me… though I did lose a shoe…” Leonard replied.
Andrew looked under the table and saw Leonard was indeed missing a sneaker, he was left in a Star Wars sock.
“I’ll buy you a pair, as a thank-you gift. Whatever you want…” Andrew offered.
Leonard was about to decline, but Haley gave him a gentle elbow in the ribs.
“Take the gift. You deserve it after almost dying in there.”
“Okay, thanks,” Leonard said, scratching his head, a little embarrassed.
Just as Andrew was about to tell everyone to order whatever they wanted, his phone vibrated.
He pulled it from his pocket, and upon seeing the name on the screen, he blinked in surprise, he hadn’t been expecting this.
‘Monica Geller?’ Andrew thought, raising an eyebrow as he stared at the caller ID.
Comments
Alkole
Wonder if he's going to have fans come and watch some of his games when he starts playing in D1
Matt Holmes
Thanks for the chapter
