CHAPTER 81: ONE MAN TOO MANY

Tip-off.

The ball rose high, two bodies clashing in the air. Jaz, towering above almost everyone on the court like a skyscraper, stretched her arms up .

Her fingers smacked the leather, redirecting it down. First possession, Blacklist ball.

She didn’t hesitate, she swung the ball out of the paint. Drex caught it, sharp and low, scanning quick. Mac darted past him, running screens, dragging defenders with him.

Jinzo was already barking for it, hungry to score. And Nash? He just drifted back, soaking in the crowd.

The lights, the screams, the stomp of feet shaking the floorboards, it was alive, breathing.

"... Wow... It’s even better than in the street."

Jinzo cut inside, threw up a jumper. The rim clanged. Drex pulled the rebound, kicked it out. Mac fed him again.

Basket. 2–0 Blacklist.

The Skull Diggers answered immediately, forcing in a bruising drive. 2–2.

The game stayed tight, elbows, shoulders, screens that rattled bones. Blacklist held their ground, but Nash still hung back, eyes tracking the moment. Every flashbulb burned into his skin. Every scream stoked the fire.

I could live here. Right here...

"Yo, stupid ace!" Drex shouted. "Quit standing around!"

"Stop sightseeing, you idiot!" Jinzo snapped, shoving a defender. "Do something!"

The ball zipped his way. Nash’s palms swallowed it. One moment later, a Skull Digger was in his face, arms wide.

And then... he vanished.

The sound of the bounce echoed, but his body wasn’t there. He was already past, dribbling on the other side. The defender spun.

"What..."

Gasps spread through the arena.

[CONDITION TRIGGERED: ZONE – STATS x2 TEMPORARILY]

From there, the game bent to him.

He cut left, ball glued to his hand, then stopped cold. A defender lunged forward. Nash didn’t rise for a clean jumper, he hurled it like a rock from his chest. Ugly spin, weird release. Smacked the board at a bad angle... and dropped.

4–2 for Blacklist.

The crowd half-laughed, half-cheered.

Next play, Drex dumped it under pressure. Nash twisted mid-air, chucked it side-armed under a defender’s elbow. Glass, in. 6–2.

The Diggers blinked at each other.

"What the hell was that?"

They threw doubles, even triples at him. Didn’t matter. He crossed so fast the ball disappeared, then shot from insane spots: off one leg, falling backwards, even a blind toss over his head. And somehow, they all dropped. Net snapping again and again.

The fans exploded. Opponents cursed. Victoria lowered her glasses, her cold eyes narrowing, then she smirked.

"Hm... Beautiful," she murmured.

Jaz walled the paint, swatting shots. Mac glued himself to shooters, Drex picked lanes, feeding Nash at every chance. Jinzo forced his way for a few looks, but the spotlight was gone. Nash owned it and wasn’t built to let it go.

Wild heaves. Awkward angles. And still, the scoreboard ticked: 8–4, 10–6, 13–6. The arena buzzed, half disbelief, half hysteria. The Diggers looked lost, furious.

Feels good, Nash thought, chest burning. SO damn good.

Every basket cracked their morale. By the time the buzzer resonated, the board read: Blacklist 32 – Skull Diggers 21.

The first quarter was in the books. Both squads dragged back to their benches, sweat dripping, lungs burning.

Blacklist circled Victoria. She paced in front, clipboard under her arm, glasses sliding down her nose.

"Good start, but don’t fool yourselves. They’ll punch harder next. Tighten the pressure, clean the boards." Her eyes snapped from face to face before pinning Nash. "You. Opinion?"

Nash sat back, this fire in him not dying.

"We’re good. But..." He glanced at Nia, then Alicia, both waiting, almost pleading. He smirked. "Could be better. Put them in."

There was a long moment of silence , then Jinzo jumped up.

"What?!"

Mac’s jaw tightened.

"One quarter in and you’re already changing?"

Drex scoffed.

"We’re winning. Nobody’s gassed. Why bench anyone?"

Victoria didn’t flinch. She lowered her glasses even more.

"Sit. Down." The words hit like a whip. Even Jinzo froze.

She cocked her head at Nash.

"Explain."

Nash shrugged.

"I know what I can do. I want to enjoy this at max speed. Mix the lineup, push it. They’ll hold their end."

Nia and Alicia lit up, practically glowing. To them, it wasn’t just tactics, it was him, their King, raising them above the rest.

Victoria tapped her clipboard.

"Fine. Nia and Alicia in. Jinzo, Mac out. Temporary."

Jinzo’s face twisted red. He sprang up again.

"You’re benching me?! You serious?!"

Nash looked back at him.

"Just for now. I want to try something. If we get a big lead, you’re back in. Look, you’ll even replace me."

Jinzo’s fists balled, veins jumping.

"You bastard. You think you can sideline me like this?!"

The rest of the team looked from him to Nash, then at each other. The air turned heavy. This was bad, everyone knew it.

Victoria’s smirk cut through the tension.

"Decision made. Focus. Next quarter, we bury them."

Across the court, the Skull Diggers huddled. Their coach slammed his clipboard, spit flying.

"We can’t stop him. Every double, he still breaks loose."

"He’s only one man!" a player barked, shaking his head. "How is he that good? Who the fuck is he?!"

Another wiped sweat off his chin.

"Yeah, never heard of him. Who’s that fucking dude?"

They felt at rock bottom, no way out when only one man was causing them so much trouble. Only one man.

And because of that, one of them froze, then smirked, his teeth grinding.

"Yeah... strong as hell. But still... one man."

The words silenced everyone. Players glanced at each other, as they slowly realized. The coach’s eyes narrowed.

"Ah... I see. Then it’s time. Plan A." He jerked his chin. "You’re up."

From the bench, she stood.

Tall, stacked, curves heavy under the jersey. Dark hair tied back under a bandana, big glasses framing sharp eyes. Her chest was full and round, jiggling with the smallest move, thighs thick, hips swaying slow even under sweatpants.

She adjusted her strap, licking her lips.

"Alright, coach," she purred. "I’ll handle him."