Extra Basket-Chapter 100 - 87: Syndicate Arc (10)

10:30 AM – BAC U.S. Training Complex, Imperial Crest, Virginia

Romanov stilled. "Site E...?"

"Director. I uh Lucas ... He followed a boy named Ethan Albarado into Site E. I’ve been tracking them, and the situation is worse than we thought. The site’s crawling with mercenaries."

Romanov’s stomach dropped. The world seemed to close in around her as she heard about Lucas name.

Her heart pounded as she forced herself to stay calm.

"Norris, where’s Lucas now?" Her voice cracked slightly, betraying the worry she was desperately trying to control.

"I’m keeping an eye on them. "

Romanov’s fingers trembled slightly as she gripped the edge of the desk. "Who owns it?"

"Freeman, they said... That’s the one who owns the site. Charles Freeman. I interrogated one of the mercenaries. It’s him—the principal of San Diego."

Romanov felt a wave of disbelief. Charles Freeman. The same name that had been associated with a respected educational figure—someone seemingly above suspicion. How could it be him? She’d known of Freeman, heard his name mentioned only in the context of his work in education, as a principal, a figure of authority. The thought that he might be involved in something this sinister, hidden away in a place like Site E, was impossible to grasp.

"Freeman?" Romanov whispered to herself. She shook her head, trying to process the shock. "But... that’s not possible."

Norris’s voice broke through her haze. "It’s him, Director. This place, this whole operation—it’s his. I’m trying to keep a safe distance, but I need backup. This is bigger than I thought."

Romanov’s mind raced. Her son was inside that dangerous facility, and the one person she trusted to keep him safe was now telling her that the situation was even worse than she could have imagined. She fought back the rising panic, her thoughts jumping from one possibility to the next.

"Get to Lucas. Follow him. Don’t let him out of your sight." Her voice was shaky now, but it was filled with authority. "Stay in contact. Backup will be there soon."

Her eyes were wide, panic making it harder to focus as she paced the length of her office. She knew she had to act fast. She had to get Lucas out of there. No more waiting. Not this time.

She didn’t give Norris another chance to respond before she ended the call. Romanov stared at the view beyond her office, her heart a whirlwind of emotions. She couldn’t let her son down. She couldn’t lose him.

Her hands were trembling now, her mind caught between disbelief and the overwhelming fear of losing Lucas. She had never been more terrified in her life.

Site E. Her son was somewhere inside that place, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were running out of time.

Romanov ran her fingers through her dark hair, her mind turning over the same thought again and again.

(Just like that day again? Nonono, I can’t let that happened again")

She had always kept her family safe. But this... this was something she couldn’t control. And she feared the consequences if she didn’t act fast.

.....

The metal door creaked open, its heavy sound echoing through the silence.

Lucas Graves stepped into the room, his eyes immediately scanning the wreckage before him. He froze.

Behind him, Louie and Evan halted as well, their eyes wide with shock and confusion. The scene before them was like something out of a nightmare. The air was thick with the smell of blood and the bitter tang of ozone from the sparking wires that littered the room. Shattered containment tubes lay in disarray, glass shards glittering like jagged teeth against the cold floor. Blood was smeared across cracked tiles, and faintly glowing green tubes were sprawled across the room like discarded remnants of some dark experiment gone wrong.

But it was the children that grabbed their attention.

These Children stood in perfect formation near the far wall, their faces as hollow and lifeless as the space between stars. Their eyes—blank, glowing white—pierced the darkness with an eerie, empty stare. They were motionless. Silent. Completely unseeing.

Yet, amidst the chaos, it was Ethan that caught Louie’s gaze.

Ethan stood near the center of the room, barely able to stand on his own. His shirt was torn, blood seeping from a wound on his side, staining the fabric a deep crimson. One eye was swollen shut, his face smeared with the remnants of his struggle, blood dripping slowly from a cut on his lip. His stance was unsteady, his breathing ragged as he gripped his side, clearly in pain. His appearance was battered, bruised—fighting not just exhaustion but the weight of something far darker.

Louie’s stomach dropped like a stone.

"Ethan...?" Louie whispered, his voice barely audible in the tense atmosphere.

Ethan turned slowly, his eyes first finding Lucas—then Louie. There was something in his gaze, something hollow and desperate behind those furious eyes, something that seemed to scream without a sound.

"Lucas..." he rasped, the words coming out ragged, as if every breath was a battle.

Lucas’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing with a mix of concern and confusion. Something was wrong—very wrong.

"I said, what’s going on here?" Lucas’s voice was sharp, a quiet storm gathering in his tone as he stepped further into the room, his feet crunching on the glass shards beneath him.

Freeman, who had been standing motionless near a console, now moved. He straightened his blazer with deliberate care, brushing a speck of dust from the cuff of his sleeve as though none of this madness concerned him. His expression remained unreadable—a cold, detached presence amidst the carnage.

Evan’s face twisted in recognition and confusion. "Wait... is that...?" He squinted, stepping forward, eyes narrowing in disbelief.

"You’re Principal Freeman?" he asked, voice tight. "From San Diego, right? Coach Fred used to talk about you—said you were some kind of legend. You were Eddie Carter’s best friend. A good man."

Freeman chuckled quietly, the sound almost... hollow. "That was a long time ago." His eyes flicked dismissively from Evan to the children. There was no warmth in his gaze. Only a dark, unsettling satisfaction.

Lucas turned sharply to Evan. "You know him?"

"Yeah," Evan answered slowly, his expression darkening. "At least—I thought I did."

Freeman’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. His tone, when he spoke, was measured—cold. "The world changes, boys. Good men don’t stay good when the system’s built to break them."

Louie’s fists trembled at his sides, his wide brown eyes flicking between the children, now standing motionless like lifeless statues, and Ethan’s bloodied form. Confusion and anger swirled in his chest. He didn’t understand everything—didn’t understand how it had come to this—but he understood enough.

"You hurt these children and..." Louie’s voice cracked, barely holding together. "Ethan..."

Freeman’s eyes dropped to the small boy standing before him. Louie’s words were filled with raw emotion, and Freeman said nothing in response, his gaze unreadable. He didn’t even blink.

"Ethan..." Louie’s voice rose, his chest heaving. "What did you do to him!?"

He took a step forward, positioning himself between Freeman and Ethan, his small body barely a shield against the towering figure of the man who had orchestrated this nightmare. But Louie wasn’t afraid. Not anymore.

"You don’t get to touch him," Louie said, his voice a steady, quiet fury. "Not ever again."

Freeman didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch, his face as cold and emotionless as ever. But Lucas—Lucas was a different story. His usual sunny, hopeful expression had vanished entirely. In its place was a storm brewing, a storm that could destroy anything in its path.

Lucas turned to the five children, standing in perfect formation. Their eyes glowed unnaturally white, their movements stiff and mechanical, as if their very souls had been erased. The sight of them stirred something deep within him. He had to know what Freeman had done to them.

His voice was tight, laced with controlled fury as he demanded, "What did you do to them?"

Freeman’s cold eyes flicked toward Lucas, the corner of his mouth lifting into something that barely resembled a smile. He studied Lucas for a moment, as though savoring the tension. Then, his lips parted, the name slipping from his mouth like venom.

"Lucas Graves... ah... back to the memories... your father, Roman Graves," Freeman said, the words dripping with a calculated mixture of nostalgia and mockery.

Lucas’s eyes widened slightly at Freeman’s mention of his father. His pulse quickened, and a mix of confusion and rage swept through him.

"What...?" Lucas began, his voice catching for a moment. "You know my father!!"

Freeman’s lips curled into a thin smile, but there was no warmth in it—only cold amusement. His eyes flicked briefly to the children, then back to Lucas. "Ah... Roman Graves," he said, his tone almost nostalgic, though tinged with something darker. "I remember him well. A true athlete, one who knew the very essence of competition. Until... Well that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?"

Lucas’s fists clenched at his sides. He could feel the heat rise in his chest, the unanswered questions threatening to consume him. "What does he have to do with this?" he asked through gritted teeth. "You said my father. Why does that matter?"

Freeman chuckled softly, as if the question were beneath him. "Enough of the memories, Lucas," he said dismissively, raising a hand. "The past is irrelevant now. What you’re asking me, about these children? About what I’ve done to them?" His expression hardened, turning cold and calculating. "It’s simple. Evolution."

Freeman stepped closer to the motionless children, his hands gesturing around them as he spoke. "These children," he said, his voice dripping with pride, "they are the future. A future where the limitations of the human body—of any body—are transcended. They are more than just human. They are something more... adaptable. Something that can change basketball."

Lucas’s heart sank as the implications of Freeman’s words hit him like a ton of bricks. The children, their vacant stares, their eerie stillness—they weren’t just victims. They were experiments. Weapons.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Lucas spat, taking a step forward. "This isn’t evolution. You’re turning them into—into some... freaks!"

Freeman’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, the corners of his lips curling upward. "Freaks? No, Lucas," he said, his voice smooth and silky, as if he were explaining a child’s science project. "These children are evolved. They’re enhanced—perfected. Every part of them, every single part of them, has been... improved."

He glanced over at Ethan, whose bloodied form was now slumped against the wall, his body sagging under the weight of both his injuries and the horror of what he’d seen. "And you, Ethan... you’re already starting to see it, aren’t you?" Freeman said, his tone suddenly cold and mocking.

Ethan gritted his teeth, but said nothing. His bruised and battered face said everything—it was the look of someone who had been forced to witness the madness unfold before them, powerless to stop it.

Freeman turned back to Lucas. "Do you really think this is wrong?" he asked, his voice deceptively gentle. "Look at them. They’re stronger, faster. They can learn, adapt, evolve faster than any of you ever could. In basketball, that’s everything. Speed, skill, strategy... they’ll surpass all the current players in the blink of an eye."

"You’re insane," Lucas snapped, shaking his head in disbelief. "You can’t just create players like this. People aren’t just machines you can modify!"

Freeman’s smile widened. "Who said they’re just players?" He leaned in, his cold eyes locking onto Lucas’s. "You still don’t understand. This... this is the future of the game. They’ll become more than just players—they’ll be unstoppable."

The children, standing frozen in place, made no sound. No movement. It was as if they had been waiting for something. For orders. For the signal to act.

Ethan’s voice broke through the tension in the room, hoarse but strong. "You’ve turned them into robot, a tools" he said, his eyes burning with rage. "They’re nothing but weapons to you."

Freeman’s eyes flicked back to him, his grin fading slightly. "Robot? Tools? Weapons?" he repeated, his voice low. "No, no, Ethan. They are masterpieces. And when they’re unleashed... when they’ve reached their full potential, they’ll change everything. The game will evolve. Basketball will evolve. And when that happens... you’ll all be left in the dust."

Lucas stepped forward again, anger building inside him. He couldn’t let Freeman go on. He couldn’t let him get away with this.

"Not if I can stop you." Lucas muttered under his breath, more to himself than to Freeman.

Freeman raised an eyebrow, his lips curling in a sinister smirk. "Stop me?" he repeated, the amusement still evident in his voice. "You can try, Lucas. But the truth is... it’s already too late. They’ve already begun. The next generation is here."

At that moment, the children—still eerily motionless—began to stir. Their eyes shifted, pupils flickering with something more than just empty light. They started to move, slowly at first, as if waiting for the command. But when they finally stepped forward, the force of their movements was terrifying. And the sound of footsteps echoed behind Lucas as Louie and Evan stepped forward, ready to fight. The room felt charged with an electric tension, the air thick with unspoken promises of conflict.

Lucas’s breath caught in his chest.

The game, as Freeman had said, was about to change.

To be continue