End of 3rd Quarter
Venganza 22 — Ordinary 20
Possession: Venganza
The buzzer echoed, signaling the end of the third quarter.
Team Ordinary gathered on the bench, chests heaving, sweat dripping, but their eyes—burning.
Ethan sat at the edge of the bench, elbows resting on his knees, mind razor-sharp.
(Now it’s the fourth quarter...)
(I’ve already analyzed their abilities. Their habits, their cracks, their limits.)
(It’s only a matter of ti before we catch up.)
He inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly.
Across from him, Charlotte—her head healed and calm down after the earlier injury—sat quietly, stealing glances at him.
Ethan noticed imdiately.
He turned to her, eyebrow slightly raised.
"Why are you looking at ?" he asked, voice low but curious.
Charlotte flinched slightly, looking away.
"U-um... Nothing. It’s just..." she trailed off, cheeks slightly pink. "I was just wondering... what you’re thinking."
She hurriedly turned her face away, pretending to focus on tying her shoelaces.
Ethan only chuckled under his breath and shook his head.
Lucas, sitting beside them, grunted, shifting his legs.
(Ugh...)
(Exhausted...)
(Pushing past your limits always feels like this...)
(Pain. Weight. Fire in your muscles.)
Lucas gritted his teeth, feeling the ache deep in his bones.
Evan Cooper noticed imdiately.
"You okay?" Evan asked, leaning over, concern flashing in his eyes.
Lucas forced a grin, waving him off.
"I’m... okay."
Louie Gee Davas scoffed loudly from the side.
"Hah. Clearly, you’re having trouble, idiot."
Lucas turned, his grin widening mischievously.
"Call senior, rember?" he teased, flashing a peace sign.
Louie clicked his tongue and looked away, but his mouth twitched—trying not to smile.
For a brief mont, despite the bruises and burns on their bodies, the bench felt lighter. Alive.
.....
anwhile—
Noah White sat silently at the far end of the bench, gripping a small ointnt bottle tightly in his hand.
The sa ointnt Ethan had given him through Aiden.
Noah rubbed it gently over his knees—the sa knees that had betrayed him years ago, robbing him of his dreams.
For a mont, he closed his eyes, feeling.
The familiar stabbing pain wasn’t there.
His knees... felt strong.
Alive.
(I can do this...)
(It’s not like before. It’s not hurting like before.)
(This ti...)
Noah tightened his hands into fists, his heart thudding with a powerful, painful hope.
(Just you wait, Aiden...)
(Mom...)
(We’ll win this ga. We’ll save you both.)
...
The fourth quarter lood ahead.
The final act.
The final stand.
Ordinary wasn’t backing down.
Not now.
Not when they were this close.
And in the center of it all—
Ethan Albarado sat still, a calm storm brewing behind his sharp, yellow-blue eyes.
Waiting.
Calculating.
Ready to strike.
.....
anwhile, on the other side of the court—
Vin Cruz stood, slightly hunched, his body trembling as the lingering effects of the third pill ate away at him.
His white eyes glead under the harsh lights. His breath ca out in ragged bursts.
Around him, Venganza gathered tightly.
Kaia Volt—no, the real Kaia—was back now.
Her usual bubbly psycho side, Zaia, had disappeared.
The real Kaia stood behind Vin, her hands clasped nervously together, her face flushed with uncertainty.
She couldn’t even et his eyes.
The tension was suffocating.
Zeke Monroe clenched his fists, his voice sharp and frustrated:
"Tsk! Damnit! How are those bastards so good?!"
He spat the words out, glaring toward Lucas and Ethan on the opposite bench.
Dante Cruz, Vin’s cousin and the brain of the offense, adjusted his wristband, grimacing:
"They’re reading us..."
"He’s reading us."
"That Ethan Albarado... he’s analyzing every single pattern we run."
Dante looked at Vin seriously, worry flickering in his usually calm eyes.
Silas Korrin, the tower of a center, crossed his arms.
"What do we do now, Captain?"
All eyes turned to Vin.
The weight of the team—the weight of everything—rested on his battered shoulders.
Inside Vin’s mind, a primal voice scread:
(It hurts... my body hurts so damn much...)
(Every breath feels like fire... every step feels like knives in my veins...)
(But I need to win this... for them...)
(I need to lead... no matter what.)
Vin closed his eyes for a mont, then opened them again.
His voice was hoarse but commanding:
"Leave it up to ."
The team froze, listening.
Vin stepped forward, his hand trembling slightly at his side.
"When I pass you the ball..."
"Make sure you’re open."
"Trust . Move like hell. Make them scramble. I’ll find you."
Zeke gritted his teeth but nodded fiercely.
Dante adjusted his headband, eyes narrowing in determination.
Silas cracked his knuckles, ready.
Kaia, still hesitant, whispered, "Okay..." her voice barely audible.
Vin looked at all of them, even as blood pounded in his ears.
He forced a pained smile.
(I’ll carry the weight. Even if my body shatters...)
(I’ll make the play.)
(I’ll protect Venganza.)
He turned his eyes back toward the court.
Toward Ethan.
The genius.
The enemy.
The storm was about to break.
...
Whistle
Ti Remaining: 4:00 minutes
The underground court buzzed faintly with the hum of the fluorescent lights above.
No crowd.
No cheers.
Only the sound of harsh breathing, screeching sneakers, and the faint tallic creak of the
rusted ceiling.
The scoreboard flickered grimly:
Venganza 22 — Ordinary 20.
The ball was inbounded to Vin Cruz.
Vin’s movents were tight, sharp — but the aftereffects of the pill gnawed at him.
His dribble was precise but heavy, every step betraying a hint of pain.
Facing him — Ethan Albarado.
Ethan’s yellow-blue eyes sharpened, calm as still water.
(I can’t outmuscle him...)
(But if it’s about prediction... reading... outsmarting—I’m ten steps ahead.)
Vin’s first step was devastating.
A cannon blast off the line.
Ethan shifted imdiately, guiding Vin’s drive toward the sideline instead of stopping him outright.
Vin accelerated.
But before he could turn the corner —
Evan Cooper rotated from under the rim, cutting off his passing lane perfectly.
Vin’s instincts scread — pivot.
He spun, looking for another outlet—
Louie Gee Davas slid in, trapping him from the side.
The walls were closing in.
Vin’s eyes widened.
(They... trapped ?!)
He yanked a desperate pass behind his back to Zeke Monroe peeling out to the three-point line.
But—
Noah White was already there, sliding with gritted teeth, stealing the angle.
"Not today!" Noah shouted, intercepting it—
His fingers tipped the ball loose—
It bounced wildly.
Lucas Graves lunged across the floor, slapping it forward.
Ethan caught it — already sprinting.
The underground gym echoed with the thunder of his footfalls.
From the corner, Kaia Volt (now Kaia, not Zaia) darted in, trying to intercept.
Her body was fast but hesitant — missing the crazy aggression of Zaia.
Ethan feinted left, spinning tight at the last mont—
Kaia overran, skidding out of position.
One defender gone.
Ahead:
Silas Korrin — the massive wall at the rim.
Ethan read it instantly.
(Can’t score directly...)
(But I can pull him out.)
Charging head-on, Ethan sold the drive — eyes wide, body low—
Silas took the bait, bracing for the collision.
At the last second—
Bounce pass — razor sharp — behind his back to Lucas trailing behind.
Lucas caught it cleanly.
He rose—
The ball arced.
SWISH.
One clean point.
Venganza 22 — Ordinary 21.
Tie almost within reach.
No screams.
No celebration.
Only the rapid heartbeat of every player echoing in the stale air.
...
Venganza Bench —
Vin Cruz stood there, chest heaving, staring at Ethan across the court.
His hands trembled — not from fear, but from pain barely held in check.
Zeke Monroe slamd a fist against the wall.
"Tsk...! DAMN IT..."
Dante Cruz rubbed his temples, scowling.
"He’s reading us... every move, every tendency... it’s like we’re playing in slow motion for him."
Silas Korrin lowered his head, voice gruff.
"What now, captain?"
Vin’s white-glazed eyes narrowed.
(Pain... doesn’t matter.)
(I have to win... for them... for everyone.)
He spoke, low and sharp:
"Next ti I pass — you better be open. No hesitation. No fear."
The rest of Venganza straightened.
They understood.
No more mistakes.
No more playing safe.
Vin Cruz would drag them across the finish line himself if he had to.
....
Venganza possession.
Vin Cruz took the ball, his eyes half-glazed with agony, but his pass was sharp —
A low, direct throw toward Silas Korrin at the elbow.
Silas caught it, his massive fra rumbling forward with two heavy dribbles.
Then—
A quick shovel pass out to the wing — Zeke Monroe.
Across him, Lucas Graves stood panting, chest heaving, legs screaming.
(I’m exhausted... shit...)
Zeke smirked, bouncing the ball once, twice.
"You used all that speed and strength earlier, huh?" he sneered, his voice low.
"Now you’re gasping for air like a fish outta water."
Lucas raised his head, his yellow eyes burning.
"I don’t care if I’m tired," he spat.
"I just have to beat you."
Zeke laughed — short, an.
"BOLD STATENT!" he barked—
then exploded forward, a sudden speed blitz.
Lucas gritted his teeth — his body scread to give in —
but he moved.
Matched him.
Pushed through the pain.
(Just... one more play. One more stop!)
As Lucas staggered to keep pace, a shadow flashed beside him.
Louie Gee Davas — sharp-eyed, steady — moved to double-team.
"Don’t act tough, you idiot." Louie growled without looking at him.
Lucas blinked.
"Senior?"
Louie smirked faintly. "Hmm... Senior idiot."
Lucas broke into a grin, despite the burning in his lungs.
"That’s better."
Zeke cursed under his breath.
"Shit! You fuckers... real pain in my ass!"
He pivoted, spotting an open man —
Dante Cruz, waving for the ball.
"PASS TO !!" Dante barked, slipping behind the defense.
Zeke hurled the ball toward him—
But—
Ethan Albarado moved like lightning.
Reading the pass before it left Zeke’s fingertips.
He shot out, body cutting between the line like a knife through silk.
"NOT ON MY WATCH," Ethan barked, snatching the ball clean out of the air.
STEAL.
Dante’s mouth fell open.
"What the hell—?!"
Ethan spun, tucking the ball close to his body.
His sneakers screeched across the court as Noah White and Evan Cooper imdiately flanked him, sealing off the sides.
Dante whipped his head toward Vin Cruz, who was frantically trying to get open but—
(Tsk... Brother’s locked down...)
(ETHAN ALBARADO... you fucking monster.)
Dante’s fists clenched.
Ordinary wasn’t just surviving anymore.
They were taking over.
...
Ordinary Possession — Fast Break
The ball was in Ethan’s hands.
The court blurred around him — but his mind was ice cold.
No crowd. No distractions. Just war.
He sprinted forward, low to the ground, scanning the chessboard in front of him.
Zeke Monroe gave chase from behind, swearing.
Silas Korrin staggered to the paint, ready to contest.
Dante Cruz tried to cut across.
But Ethan wasn’t rushing blindly —
He had already analyzed all of it.
Every step.
Every weakness.
(Zeke overcommits on right cuts. Silas too slow on lateral defense. Dante’s reaction delay: 0.4 seconds.)
(Exploit it all.)
Ethan snapped a glance sideways — Lucas Graves dragging his exhausted body down the wing.
Ethan faked a pass — a twitch of his shoulders.
Dante bit on the fake instantly.
Trap broken.
Ethan smirked —
swerving in a hard crossover, slicing between Dante and Silas like a scalpel.
Zeke lunged—
but Noah White set a perfect back screen, blocking him just for a second—
Enough for Ethan to surge forward.
Two steps.
One more.
He rose.
Right in front of Silas, who roared and tried to contest—
But Ethan wasn’t aiming for a flashy dunk.
He floated a perfect layup — soft, controlled — just over Silas’s fingertips.
SWISH.
Score: 22 — 22. TIED.
The underground gym buzzed with the crackle of tension.
....
anwhile—
On the Venganza side, sothing snapped.
Kaia Volt, panting, her hands trembling, felt the pressure crushing her chest.
(No... no, I can’t ss up... I can’t ss up...!)
Her pupils shook —
her mind splitting—
Until suddenly—
CHEERFUL LAUGHTER escaped her mouth.
Zaia had awakened.
"KYAAAHAHA! IT’S BORING IF YOU’RE NOT CRAZY, RIGHT?!"
Zaia spun on her heel, giggling maniacally.
Zeke, Silas, Dante — they all stiffened.
They knew that laugh.
And it ant chaos.
....
At the sa ti—
Vin Cruz stood near the top of the key, his hands clutching at his head.
His body was breaking down from the chemical inside him.
Veins bulging under his skin.
Pain lanced through his limbs like knives, but he ignored it.
He couldn’t lose.
He couldn’t lose.
(WIN. WIN. WIN. WIN. WIN. WIN.)
(NO MATTER WHAT—WE MUST WIN!)
His eyes, already pale with the chemical effect, started to lose focus.
Sweat poured down his face.
His fingers twitched uncontrollably.
.....
Ethan Albarado jogged back on defense, eyes locked on Vin.
He could feel it.
The ntal collapse.
(Now it’s starting. They’re crumbling.)
Ethan’s lips curled into a razor-sharp smile.
He called out, loud enough for his team:
"Stay calm. Don’t rush.
They’re the ones falling apart.
Not us."
Ordinary’s counterattack had just begun.
And Ethan was leading them straight into checkmate.
To be continue
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