Bradley Uppercrust the Third

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“That’ll probably keep him from the preliminary round.” Bradley Uppercrust the Third said, glaring into the mirror in the hallway. His face was scruffy, having gone a week without shaving. He had heavy bags under his eyes, his face a mere shadow of what it used to be.

            This was his 5th year at college, having failed classes because he was too busy trying to out due Max in the games. People didn’t come around like they used to, and talked about him behind his back, laughing at him when he walked by. They didn’t respect him anymore.

            Tank had resigned, while the rest of his “friends” walked out, or graduated, his team made up of mostly new coming athletes. He was going to show everyone. The preliminary rounds were only a month away. With Max injured, he wouldn’t be able to participate. That’s all he needed. He needed to regain the throne.

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