Extra Basket-Chapter 65 - 52: White (8)

Time: 6 pm, July 5, 2010

Greg Tarrow, once a proud and prosperous businessman, now stood in the dimly lit gym, his eyes narrowed in contempt. He was a man consumed by vengeance, his mind rotted by the years of financial and personal ruin caused by the White family. Greg’s heart pounded with a rage that could no longer be contained, and it was all aimed at John White.

As he stood by the side of the court, he muttered under his breath:

"(John White... I will make you pay for everything you’ve taken from us. Everything.)"

The pain of his losses still gnawed at him. The collapse of his company. The death of his daughter, and the subsequent suicide of his wife. All of it, he blamed on the White family. Their rise to the top, their superior product, their ability to outcompete him at every turn... it was too much. Greg could never forgive them for stripping away everything he held dear.

Then his thoughts were interrupted as he observed the five teenagers on the court—around 15 years old, sharp-eyed, and athletic. They were scrimmaging in an almost clinical, methodical manner, executing moves with an unsettling precision for their age. Greg’s eyes studied them intently, calculating their potential.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" Greg asked, his voice hard as steel.

The five teens, all dressed in mismatched athletic gear and looking more like street ballers than professional prospects, paused for a moment, then nodded in unison.

"Yes, sir." Their voices were a chorus of youthful determination, but there was a faint edge to their words, as if they already understood the gravity of what was to come.

Greg’s gaze swept across them, eyes filled with a kind of cold pride. These kids weren’t just street players; they were the tools he had carefully chosen and molded. Tools to carry out his vision of revenge. He watched as they resumed their play, their speed and coordination sharper than ever, clearly influenced by his direction.

"Good. Tomorrow, we will show them all that my invention is superior," Greg said, more to himself than anyone else.

"Sir, yes sir"

Then he paused, his gaze hardening as he thought of John White again. That name, that legacy. It was his goal to bring it crashing down. His invention—the enhancement pill—was supposed to change the game. But it had come with side effects. Side effects Greg didn’t care about anymore. The power it offered was too great.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial of pills. The shiny, white tablets gleamed under the dim light. His fingers tightened around the vial as he stared at the pills, the invention he had worked so hard on.

"(These kids... they’ll be my proof)" he thought. "(The world will see what my pills can do. And it won’t matter what happens to them after.)"

As the teenagers ran back to the court, feeling the rush of energy already beginning to surge through them, Greg stood back, watching them play with an intensity he had never seen in them before. But as he looked on, a flicker of doubt crept into his mind. The side effects, the instability of the pill... could he control this? Could he control them?

He quickly shook the thought away. "It doesn’t matter," he muttered. "This is the beginning. Tomorrow, we take the first step."

......

Date: July 6, 2010 – Monday

Time: 12:00 PM

Location: Lucas Graves Gym

Match Scheduled: Thunderhawks vs. Vorpal Basket @ 1:00 PM (Oak Academy Gym)

The sun filtered through the gym windows, casting golden streaks across the polished floor. Tension and excitement buzzed in the air like static.

The Vorpal Basket team was gathered—final stretches, light shootarounds, and scattered conversations echoing under the high ceiling.

Lucas Graves (#10) stood tall, cool as ever.

Evan Cooper (#9) dribbled calmly.

Ryan Taylor (#11) was flexing his arms in front of the mirror.

Josh Turner (#8) was adjusting his wristband.

Brandon Young (#15) stood quietly near the baseline.

Louie, Coonie (#6), Kai (#31), and Jeremy (#42) chatted around the bench.

Ethan Albarado, standing near the center circle, looked at his team with a subtle smile.

As Ethan stood in front of his team, his gaze scanning each of his teammates. From seasoned rookies to fired-up bench players, they all looked ready.

"1 PM is the schedule of our game, so good luck to all of us," he said calmly.

Cheers and whoops erupted as everyone relaxed a bit. Excitement was thick in the air.

"Heheh. Finally, the Thunderhawks will see how awesome I really am. Can’t wait for those cute girls to witness the Taylor charm." Ryan Taylor said, puffing his chest out slightly.

He wasn’t just excited about the game—his mind drifted to the stands. To the Thunderhawks. To their sharp uniforms and confident smirks. He imagined hitting a fadeaway jumper, then locking eyes with one of them.

"Eheheh..." Ryan chuckled under his breath, lost in a daydream of slam dunks and phone numbers.

"Idiot," Coonie Smith muttered without even looking at him.

Lucas Graves cracked a small smile and looked over at Ethan.

"Let’s do this."

Ethan grinned and bumped fists with him.

"Yeah."

But before he could dive into warmups or go over the strategy again, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Frowning, Ethan reached for it and answered.

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end was barely recognizable—hoarse, ragged, panicked.

"E-Ethan... help... they... they took... my... mother and Aiden..."

It was Noah.

Ethan’s grip on the phone tightened.

"Noah?! Slow down. Slow down—what happened?"

"M-meet me... same spot... please..."

The call cut out.

"Noah!!"

Heads turned. The team fell silent as Ethan lowered the phone, his face pale and confused.

Evan stepped forward, concerned.

"What’s going on?"

Lucas narrowed his eyes.

"Was that Noah? Is something wrong?"

Ethan’s mind raced. (His mother... Aiden... kidnapped?)

He clenched his jaw, the weight of the moment settling on his shoulders.

They had a match in less than an hour.

A major match.

But...

Noah needed him. Aiden might be in danger.

"What’s wrong?" Lucas asked again, more urgently this time.

"Are you constipated?" Ryan said with a smirk.

"Shut up, Ryan," Coonie snapped.

Ethan looked at the team, heart pounding. The gym felt suffocating now, too bright, too loud.

"I... It seems like Noah needs our help."

"What?" Evan asked, taken aback.

"What happened?" Lucas demanded, stepping closer.

Kai and Jeremy exchanged a look—one that said This isn’t good.

Brandon Young said with trouble look

"Wait, what does that mean for the match?"

Louie glanced between everyone and whispered,

Yeah... the game’s in less than an hour..."

Everyone looked to Ethan.

Then Lucas stood up, his face stern, voice sharp.

"What’s more important to all of you?! Basketball... or brothers?"

His question pierced the air. The kind that doesn’t expect a quick answer.

Ethan’s fists trembled by his sides. He stared down at his hands, barely breathing. Sweat trickled from his temple—not from the game, but from the decision weighing down on his shoulders like a mountain.

Noah and Aiden... they were in danger.

This game—the biggest match against the Thunderhawks—was their chance to cement themselves. To prove the name Vorpal Basket. But friends... that was something else.

"(Now I know what I would do)" Ethan thought, his heart pounding.

He lifted his head slowly and looked around the room. All eyes were on him.

Ethan stepped forward.

"Everyone... continue the match without me."

A stunned silence.

Lucas blinked.

"What?"

Coonie stood up abruptly.

"Are you kidding me, Ethan?! Without you, we don’t know what to do!"

Lucas took one step closer.

"I’m going with you."

Ethan’s eyes widened.

"Lucas..."

Louie chimed in without hesitation.

"Me too. I follow you, Captain—wherever you go."

Coonie threw his arms up.

"What the—what is happening right now?! Are we all bailing?! We’re about to play the Thunderhawks, the most stacked team we’ve ever faced!"

Brandon, standing by his locker, finally spoke.

"He’s not wrong... without you, Ethan—and Lucas? We can’t win this game. You both are our anchors."

Ethan turned back to them, resolute.

"No. You can win. I believe in all of you. I’ve seen the effort, the growth. I’m confident now... you’re ready."

He looked at Lucas, one last time.

"You’re sure you’re coming with me? This is the Thunderhawks, Lucas."

Lucas smirked, but his tone was dead serious.

"This... is more important than any Thunderhawk."

Then, turning to Louie—

"And you too?"

Louie nodded firmly.

"I meant what I said. If you’re jumping, I’m jumping with you."

Ethan exhaled. The pressure in his chest lightened—but then turned again, as Evan stood up.

"I’m going too."

Ethan blinked fast.

"What? Evan... without you commanding the court, the game—this team—could fall apart."

Evan smiled faintly.

"I’m the only one who has a van. And more importantly... you need someone who can handle pressure if anything happens. You’re not going without me."

Ethan was silent for a moment, his throat tight.

Josh Turner stepped forward.

"Don’t worry about us, Ethan. Captain Evan’s right—you need him. And we don’t even know what might happen out there."

Ethan, standing before them, bowed his head deeply.

"Thank you guys. We owe you one—seriously."

Ryan, stretching one leg lazily on the bench, smirked.

"Guess it’s finally time the girls find out who the real captain is, huh?" he joked, eyebrows wiggling.

Kai burst out laughing.

"Ahaha! More like they already know you’re mid, bro!"

Ryan shot him a playful glare.

"Hey! That’s not even close to true!"

Jeremy, adjusting his headband, snorted.

"Hahaha, yeah, sure it isn’t!"

The tension melted instantly into laughter. It wasn’t just a team anymore—it was a bond. A real one.

Ethan looked around at them, heart swelling with pride.

"Let’s go."

Lucas, arms crossed and eyes serious, nodded.

"No holding back."

Evan, adjusting his bag over one shoulder, added with a smirk,

"Come on. My van’s parked around the back."

Louie gave a quiet fist bump to Josh before following.

One by one, the team gathered their bags, their shoes squeaking faintly as they jogged

toward the lot. The old white van with tinted windows waited—an unofficial battle chariot.

As the others climbed in, Josh stood behind a moment longer, gazing at them.

"Be safe, everyone," he whispered to himself.

He clutched his ankle slightly—the memory of pain still fresh—but in his eyes, there was nothing but hope.

The doors slammed shut. The engine rumbled.

The van pulled away.

The underdogs were on the move.

No more sidelines.

No more doubts.

This time—they would fight.

.....

Meanwhile The Graves house sat quietly on the edge of town, but Charlotte Graves was anything but calm. She stood by her window, watching with narrowed eyes as a familiar van pulled away from the curb.

Her gaze immediately landed on the back of a head she knew all too well.

"Lucas...?" she whispered under her breath.

Charlotte, the 15-year-old captain of the Thunderhawks, wasn’t one to snoop—but something about the movement of that van and the hush around it set off alarm bells in her instincts. She watched the vehicle pull out slowly. Inside, she caught a glimpse of Noah, Ethan, Louie, and Evan.

Charlotte’s brows furrowed.

"That’s weird... there’s only four of them? Not even the full Vorpal team..."

She paced once, then looked out the window again. The van took a left turn—not the direction of Oak Hill Academy. Her stomach tensed.

"That’s not the route to the match... where the hell are they going?"

She turned from the window, her mind racing.

"Something fishy is going on."

She grabbed her hoodie off the chair and made her way to the garage. Her mom’s motorbike sat in the corner, covered with a dusty brown tarp. She hesitated only a moment before yanking it off.

Charlotte bit her lip.

"(Sorry, mom... but I’ve got to know what my brother’s caught up in.)"

She swung a leg over the bike and strapped on the helmet. With a turn of the key and a low growl of the engine, the motorbike rumbled to life.

VROOOM.

Peeling out of the garage, she gunned it onto the road, eyes locked in the direction the van had disappeared. Her heart pounded—not just from the speed but from the uncertainty ahead.

Charlotte thought:

"(If this has anything to do with that Ethan....I need to find out. Before it’s too late.)"

And with that, Charlotte Graves, the fierce captain of Thunderhawks and protective older sister, sped into the unknown—chasing secrets, lies, and the beginning of something far bigger than just a basketball match.

To be continue