In the tunnel leading to the locker rooms, the Raptors were steaming mad. Like, really mad. Being down by twelve points against Blacklist? That was straight-up disrespectful for a team like them.

The air felt thick, like when you walk into a room after people have been yelling. Everyone was blaming each other, super frustrated. But then, when the referees whistled and waved them back to the court for the second half, something weird happened. The Raptors’ anger turned into pure confusion.

A murmur spread through the crowd, people whispering, nudging each other. Because there, on the court, was Nash. But around him? Jinzo, Mac, and two NPCs. Meanwhile, the Blacklist girls were just sitting on the bench, chilling like it was no big deal.

The crowd couldn’t believe it.

"Why would they bench Jaz NOW?" someone shouted.

On the other side of the court, Jax scowled, his eyes locked onto Nash like he was trying to burn a hole through him with his glare. Nash just smirked back, tiny, cocky, like he enjoyed the reactions.

A few minutes earlier, in the Blacklist locker room...

Nash, standing in front of the whiteboard, had just announced the rotations.

Alicia wiped sweat off her forehead, staring at him like he’d grown a second head.

"You’re benching US?" she asked, voice rising. "Is this because we couldn’t keep up with them??"

Nash patted her shoulder lightly, calm as ever while everyone else looked confused.

"Nah," he said. "Pure strategy. I want you guys fresh for the fourth quarter, gonna need you then. The Raptors are gonna come at us hard now, but trust me." He grinned. "Let me cook."

Back in the present, the buzzer blared. Game on. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

The third quarter was totally different than the previous. With Blacklist’s starters sitting, the Raptors went full beast mode. They bumped Jinzo and Mac around, shoved them during screens, knocked them down, borderline dirty plays. The two NPCs Blacklist had thrown in? They were tourists, totally outmatched.

The Raptors’ plan was working: overpower Blacklist with brute force. Jax dribbled fast, eyes locked on the rim like he wanted to murder it. He jumped, going for a monster dunk to put the game away.

But then, a shadow.

Nash leaped stupidly high. His hand slapped the ball midair, sending it flying.

Jax wobbled in the air, nearly fell on his ass, barely caught himself. His face twisted into pure rage.

But Nash was already moving. Recovering the ball, he whipped it down the court, fast as a bullet, straight to Jinzo, who was hanging back.

Jinzo blinked, still shook from Nash’s insane pass. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then went for a short shot, but a Raptors defender jumped last second, deflecting it. The ball bounced off the rim, hanging in the air.

Then —WHOOSH— Nash was there.

He had started running full speed the very second the laser pass left his hands. Everyone watching froze for a second because, who expects someone to move that fast out of nowhere?

His fingers snatched the rebound mid-air while he was still running, like some kind of ninja. And he didn’t even stop to dribble or do one of those textbook-perfect shooting poses you see in slow-mo replays. Nope. Instead, he just chucked the ball toward the hoop in this weird, rushed way, like his body just knew what to do before his brain could think about it.

The ball flew in this wobbly arc that made everyone hold their breath, no way that was going in, right?

Wrong. Swish. Net barely even moved. Perfect.

One guy on the sidelines actually dropped his drink.

The Raptors’ bench exploded, yelling, throwing towels. The players on the court looked ready to kill someone.

Nash landed, adjusted his jersey casually, and stared each of them down one by one. Then he grinned, like a wolf.

"All that work for nothing?" he called out, jogging backward. "Five of you, and you still can’t stop me? Thought I had already taken care of the bitch in your team, didn’t notice there were five left."

That did it. The Raptors’ faces went red. Nash’s words snapped the last bit of control they had.

Screw the game plan. Now? They just wanted to destroy HIM.

And that, that was exactly what he wanted.

The mechanical noise of the arena’s big air vents was loud, but it wasn’t doing anything about the thick, nervous feeling hanging in the air. The wooden floor under Nash’s feet felt too hot, like the whole place was holding its breath.

Behind his eyelids, glowing letters floated, and right now, it was saying one simple thing: his strength was as high as it could go, just what he needed for what was coming to him.

He squinted across the court. Three behemoths stood there, but they didn’t look like Breakball players anymore. More like monsters waiting to stomp him into the ground.

Jax was panting, his chest rising and falling fast, his eyes all red and wild like he hadn’t slept in days. Next to him was Vance—taller than anyone had a right to be, muscles on top of muscles, arms thicker than Nash’s thighs. The guy looked like his only job today was to turn Nash into a smudge on the shiny floor.

Nash bounced the ball once, hard, feeling the weight of it in his palm. He wiped sweat off his chin with the back of his hand.

"Is this seriously the best the Raptors can throw at me?" he said, grinning even though his heart was beating way too fast.

Vance’s face twisted into something ugly. He crouched low, arms spread wide like he was about to crush Nash just by existing.

"Shut your mouth," Vance growled. His shadow stretched long and dark across the court, like even the light was afraid of him.

Nash tightened his grip on the ball.

"Come on then, fatty. Try me."

On the Blacklist team’s bench, everything felt tense, like the air itself was holding its breath. Alicia sat there with her fingers digging into the seat. Every time the game turned rough, her chest hitched like she couldn’t breathe right. Victoria, who was normally calm and always thinking five steps ahead, looked stiff.

"Is this what you planned?" she muttered.

Then the whistle blew, and just like that, everything changed.

The Raptors weren’t playing normal breakball anymore. They moved together, fast and strong, ignoring everyone else just to swarm Nash. Vance came at him like a truck with no brakes, his whole body slamming straight into Nash’s chest. The sound was loud, a heavy thud that echoed across the floor. The kind of hit that would normally leave a guy gasping on the ground.

Alicia’s hand flew to her mouth.

"Nash!" she almost yelled, halfway out of her seat.

But Nash didn’t go down. His body just... took the hit, like he was made of something tougher than everyone else. Instead of falling, he spun with it, turning the force into movement. And then...

What followed left the arena in a state of total silence.

Nash moved like liquid, smooth in a way breakball players aren’t supposed to be. He dropped so low it looked like he was about to sit on the floor, his body almost flat as he sped forward. It wasn’t running, more like gliding. Jax tried to stop him, lunging sideways, but Nash crossed over so fast it was like the air blurred for a second.

He didn’t just turn. He drifted, his body hanging in the air for a second too long, low and graceful. Then, quick as a whip, he flicked the ball behind his back, spinning right around Jax before the guy could even blink.

"W-what the..." Jax exhaled.

The ball went straight between Jax’s legs, clean, smooth, and kinda embarrassing if you were the one getting played like that.

"Unbelievable..." Some guy in the front row whispered. Around him, people gasped like they’d all forgotten how to breathe. It wasn’t just skill. It was art, right there in the middle of a fight disguised as a game.

Frustrated by how easy Nash made it look, two big defenders rushed at him near the basket. Vance jumped up, arms wide like a scarecrow, trying to block him. At the same time, another guy bumped Nash’s shoulder mid-air, just trying to mess him up by force.

But then time kind of... slowed down.

Nash twisted his body in the air like some kind of bendy straw, taking both hits without even flinching. Like, how? How do you do that? And while these dudes were basically trying to tackle him, he just... casually threw the ball behind his back without even looking. With, zero hesitation. The ball zipped through the tiniest gap between them, straight to Jinzo, who was just chilling under the basket.

Jinzo caught it smoothly and dropped it in like it was nothing.

Raptors 60 - Blacklist 74.

Nash hit the floor hard but rolled right back up like it was nothing. He pulled his jersey straight, wiped his mouth with his wrist, and smirked.

"Come on, big guys," he said, bouncing lightly on his toes, arms loose like he wasn’t even tired. "That can’t be all you got, right?" He grinned, tilting his head. "I’m just warming up. Don’t make this boring."

The defenders exchanged glances. One of them clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring. The other one cracked his knuckles, like, okay, tough guy. They were pissed.

The next few plays? Absolute chaos. Nash just... dominated the court. He moved like the game was his personal dance floor. At one point, he jumped sideways, and still managed to flick the ball up while falling. The shot swished in so clean, it barely even touched the net.

The crowd lost it. Even the other team’s bench just... stared. Like, they were supposed to hate him, but you could see it in their eyes—they were low-key impressed.

Then Vance, totally fed up, just said screw it and hugged Nash on the next drive. Literally, full-on bear hug, no attempt at the ball, just pure frustration.

The ref, finally unable to unsee it, blew the whistle hard, pointing at Vance.

"Flagrant foul! Number forty-four, out!"

The arena exploded, some booing, some cheering. Mostly cheering.

On the floor, Nash just lay there for a second, breathing hard. Even though everything hurt, he grinned. Because, well, it went exactly like he thought it would.

Actually, scratch that, it went better than he thought. Like, way better. Another plan inside the plan.

He pushed himself up without waiting for anyone to help him. He didn’t even glance at his teammates. And the weirdest part? He didn’t even look tired. Like the whole game hadn’t even touched him. He just walked to the free-throw line like it was nothing, and every single person in the building stared at him.

Raptors 64 – Blacklist 79.

Nash bounced the ball twice —thump, thump—never taking his eyes off the hoop. Then he lifted into his usual stance and shot. Swish.

Raptors 64 – Blacklist 80.

The crowd exploded. Like, seriously, the whole place shook. And Nash? He just caught the ball when it got passed back to him, took another second, and shot again. Swish.

Raptors 64 – Blacklist 81.

On the bench, Victoria finally let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding.

She watched Nash jog back to defense, his steps light like nothing was wrong. But her eyebrows twitched. Just a little. Not even a full frown, really. More like... her face almost frowned, then decided not to.

What was this strange feeling? Was that... worry?

It was weird, because Victoria wasn’t the type to worry. Like, ever. Cold as ice, everyone said. But right now? Something about the way Nash was roughed made her chest tighten. Like maybe he was taking on too much.

But she didn’t say anything. Just clenched her fingers around her arms.

Nash couldn’t still see her system, but maybe, just maybe, this talk in her office had moved the numbers more than he had imagined.