Dominance Evolution System: Sweat, Sex, and Streetball-Chapter 213: Everyone Wants a Piece

Nash leaned back in the taxi seat, the old vinyl groaning under his weight, like he was made of bricks or something.

He rubbed his eyes hard, man, that stung, and let out a sigh so deep it fogged up the window a little. The crumpled papers in his lap stared back at him, and for a second he just... froze.

The truth didn’t hit him like a slap. Nah, it was worse, this slow, awful dawning, like realizing you left the stove on halfway to work.

His hands shook as he smoothed out one of the papers, careful not to tear it.

This is so fucked up.

Outside, neon signs pulsed red and blue, painting the Underground streets in weird flashes. People rushed past, all shadowy blurs.

The car’s movement almost rocked him to sleep, but that heavy feeling in his chest wouldn’t budge. He shifted, crossing his legs. Still uncomfortable.

The system didn’t tell bullshit; he knew that. He remembered every damn word. Step one: stalk Victoria for a week without her noticing. Log her habits, weak spots, who she trusted.

And I did better, he thought, nodding to himself like an idiot. He’d spied, taken risks, and in the end, he found her biggest secret.

This ownership crap? Had to be the key. The System wouldn’t steer him wrong.

But then his thumb brushed the edge of the deed paper, and his gut twisted. The Midnight Rest was Blacklist’s lifeline, cash flow, entertainment, the whole damn team ran through that brothel.

His eyes skimmed the loan contract again: "Director Mr. Harlan Reiss."

Wait. If Harlan owned the place, not Victoria...

Then Blacklist isn’t hers either. He sighed.

The realization oozed into his brain like cold syrup. Harlan owned the brothel, so he owned the money, the deals, everything. Blacklist isn’t Victoria’s. The words tasted sour. It’s Harlan’s. So what was her angle? Fronting for him? Hiding something? Or... a deal?

He was so exhausted now. Hours of sex, almost getting caught, sprinting through hallways, but with his recovery, it should mean nothing; yet this time, he felt an urgent need to sleep. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

His eyelids weighed a ton. He slapped his own cheek just to stay awake. The quest wasn’t over yet, but the next part might just be the hardest.

Step two: use the intel to fix some major team problem she’s hiding.

Help her? His brain short-circuited. How? If the team’s problem and Victoria’s secret tied back to Harlan, solving that seemed impossible. But the system picked this quest. There had to be a way. Right?

Well, if the problem was that she had killed someone to take his properties, nah, just hope she was in her rights.

He stuffed the papers back under his shirt, then thunked his head against the window. The glass was cool, the taxi’s vibration rattling his teeth. Outside, the city blurred, but his thoughts wouldn’t slow down.

The game just leveled up, and he was smack in the middle of it.

A few days melted into each other in the Underground’s relentless rhythm. Nash moved through training like clockwork, arriving on time, drilling harder than anyone, keeping his eyes down.

No more risk now, he avoided Victoria’s office completely, and the absence of fresh screw-ups made her lower her guard just slightly.

Dahlia had started tilting toward his corner, feeding Victoria harmless reports among his sins.

She and Nash didn’t speak much, but their glances in the hallway carried a meaning.

In this strange new world, Alicia, Nia, and Jaz were a breath of fresh air in his breakball life.

Nia was always near him. She’d tease him, plan those deep, hot sessions that left them both breathless and dreamy beyond imagination.

Alicia was the needy one, always seeking his attention. And of course, he gave it to her, pulling her into corners for passionate encounters that satisfied her cravings and left her glowing, eager for the next time.

And then there was Jaz. She loved him openly, unashamed. Her hands were always on him, tight hugs, hips pressed against his during practice, like she was marking him as hers. She laughed loudest when people noticed, as if trying to make their connection feel normal and everyday, while she soaked up every sexual thrill she’d missed before, wishing there were no barriers so they could be more open about it all.

The next game was against the Neon Vipers. Blacklist started strong, but Jinzo and Tylo faltered, sluggish, missing easy shots, their frustration fueled by Nash’s rising success. They looked slow, frustrated.

Thankfully, or sadly, Nash was in complete control now, so he pulled them out early, cycling Alicia, Nia, and Jaz in, making sure the three girls stayed on the longest.

And to the boys’ greatest misfortune, the strategy worked.

Alicia weaved through defenses like smoke, Nia baited opponents into errors, Jaz bulldozed through blocks.

Nash was unstoppable, on every play, dribbling, landing flawless shots, assists, and sealing their 101-84 victory.

The buzzer sent the crowd into chaos, and Blacklist sealed a new spectacular victory.

In the stands, packed tight with screaming fans, Saya was perfectly still.

Her eyes didn’t blink, locked onto Nash down on the court. Next to her, Tylo hunched forward.

They had come here for one reason: to see if those highlight reels were real and witness the man in the flesh.

Saya’s arms folded tighter across her chest. She looked calm, but it was a real volcano under. Tylo, meanwhile, looked like he’d been punched in the gut.

"Blaze is out of his damn mind!" a girl beside them screamed. "I’d let him wreck me if he wanted, did you see that crossover?!"

Another girl laughed, slapping her friend’s shoulder.

"No kidding, girl. He’s not human. Wouldn’t say no to anything he asked."

Saya’s jaw clenched harder than she wanted. The words stung more than they should have. Tylo noticed her reaction, his eyes flicking toward her before darting away.

"That’s him," he exhaled. "I thought... I thought the clips were fake... But that assist, the fake-out, the no-look pass? That’s Nash’s move. Same one he used to pull back then."

Saya didn’t answer. Her eyes stayed locked onto Nash as he celebrated, the girls mobbing him.

Saya’s fingers dug into her own arms hard enough to leave marks.

"It’s really him," Tylo said again, trying to get a reaction from her. "And he’s not just good. He’s carrying that whole team. And look at those girls... Man’s successful now..."

Saya finally spoke.

"Please, if you have time for flattering him, you have time to think." She groaned, "Now, are you convinced? It’s fucking him! He’s a star," She gestured sharply toward the court. "And I’m out here begging for scraps, sucking dicks because you guys are useless."

Tylo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck like the weight of the truth was pressing down on him.

There was a sad part to it: she was indeed getting screwed so they could have a little chance. She was surely as useless as they were, but she and Rin were paying the price for everyone.

"Yeah, yeah. We screwed up. Bad." He murmured.

Saya’s eyes narrowed. She turned to the court again.

"I want him back on our side. We need him."

Tylo glanced at her, then back at Nash in his kingdom.

"Good luck with that. Look at him. Three girls from his team are on him. He’s not the same stupid kid we left behind. Convincing him now? Not gonna be easy."

Saya’s head snapped toward him, eyes sharp. "You’re useless. That’s all you’ve got? ’Not gonna be easy’?" She stood abruptly, her coat rustling with the movement. "Fine. I’ll handle it myself."

Tylo reached out, hesitated.

"Saya..."

She didn’t look back. One last glance at Nash, his easy grin, Alicia laughing against his shoulder, Nia whispering something that made his smirk deepen, and then she turned, pushing through the crowd with her chin up and her fists clenched.

"I’m not like you, I know him better than anyone... And I know how to reach him."

The next day, Saya was in an internet café, fingers tapping impatiently against the keyboard.

Her face blued by the screen, she scrolled through forums, social media posts, anything that might give her a lead on Nash’s whereabouts.

"Come on," she groaned, clicking through another useless thread.

Most of it was just fan speculation, wild guesses about where Blaze hung out when he wasn’t tearing up the court.

Basically, useless suppositions. Everyone was so useless these days...

But buried in the mess, she found something. A blurry photo posted by some random account, tagged with a location, showing Nash laughing with Lina.

Saya zoomed in, this same feeling from the day before twisting her gut.

Who’s that bitch?

She leaned in, squinting at the screen. The photo was grainy, but the tall, lean figure laughing with a drink in his hand was unmistakable: Nash.

She dressed quickly, tight pants that hugged her curves, a top that showed just enough to turn heads, and hair tied back.

For some reason, she wanted to look beautiful today. She had long forgotten what it feels like to put all your efforts into your appearance.

In business, the makeup was optional, as long as you were slightly beautiful and had a pussy, you could handle the dirty work.

But now, she felt the need to put on a show and remind someone why he had fallen for her.

Just as she was about to leave, her phone pinged. She checked it and opened a message from Tylo.

Tylo: [You, about yesterday. You serious about Nash? How do you plan to get him back?]

She grinned and ignored it. Getting him back? Oh, no, no, no. Absolutely not. She was doing this alone.

As Tylo had said himself, Nash was now in such a better place than the ridiculous Dust Dogs. Why would he join them in this hell?

Nah, she didn’t need him to forgive them... she needed him to forgive her.

Grabbing a jacket to blend in, she headed out.

The location was the Spires district, a maze of mid-level towers and fancy hotels, perfect for someone with a lot of money.

She spent the morning gathering more info. She hit up a street vendor, slipping him 50 credits for dirt.

"Blaze? Yeah, see him time to time around this block. He usually passes here in the morning."

She wondered if it was accurate; the Underground was full of lies for a quick buck. It sounded shady, like something he would say just to get paid, but with no other leads, she had no choice.

Better than sitting around doing nothing, she thought, tugging her jacket tighter to blend in. The Spires market was a mess of noise and movement, rooftops crammed with stalls and people.

You could find street food, techs, and a gym, which could make this a good spot to find Nash. She moved through the crowd, eyes flicking over every face.

First stop was a protein shake stall the vendor mentioned, Lila’s, a shaky little stand with blenders rattling and customers lined up for their morning boost.

Saya lingered nearby, pretending to browse a stall selling cheap holographic watches, but her attention stayed fixed on the shake stand.

No Nash.

She waited ten minutes, watching guys come and go, some built like athletes, but none matched his height or that cocky stride of his.

Annoyance prickled under her skin.

Where the hell is he? You’re built like a wall of bricks, you should be addicted to proteins...

She tapped her fingers against the watch display, ignoring the vendor’s pushy "Hey, lady, try this one! Half price today!"

She moved on, weaving through stalls where people argued over glowing circuit boards and fresh synth-bread. The crowd was thick; elbows bumped her, and someone stepped on her foot without apologizing.

"Watch it!" she snapped at a guy lugging a crate of parts, but he just grunted and shoved past.

Who did he think she was? If it wasn’t for her teammates being assholes, they would beg to just breathe the same air as her.

Next stop was the gym entrance nearby, the place she was sure to find Nash; he absolutely had to be there.

She peeked inside, pretending to just watch to decide if she should subscribe. Weights clanged, sweaty bodies strained under the noise of grunts and pounding feet, but no Nash.

She leaned against the front desk, casually.

"By the way, is there a tall guy with dark hair and tanned skin? Name’s Blaze. That’s my boyfriend, and we want to train in the same gym."

The guy behind the counter shrugged.

"Tall guys with dark hair? That’s like half the gym, cuty, and I ain’t the dude to save everyone’s name y’know."

Saya forced a smile, but inside, she was fuming.

Another dead end? This intel is absolute garbage.

She kept circling the market. An hour in, her feet hurt from the uneven rooftop floor, her temper getting shorter. Vendors called out, but she waved them off with a flick of her wrist.

The crowd thickened near the food stalls, shoulders knocking into her. She grabbed a skewer of grilled synth-meat, biting down hard as she scanned the sea of faces.

What if the info’s bullshit? What if Nash isn’t even here? Her frustration boiled up. Screw this, Tylo was right, this is impossible. I wasted my time... and my fucking creds!.

Her steps quickened, nearly stomping. She was about to give up, when excited chatter caught her ear.

"Look at that guy, handsome as hell," a woman whispered, pointing across the street. "Who’s the girl with him? Lucky bitch."

Another laughed.

"Holy shit, he is hot..."

Saya’s annoyance spiked. What were they going on about when she was drowning? But something in their tone felt familiar. She followed their gaze, looking across the street.

And then she saw him.