Extra Basket-Chapter 66 - 53: White (9)

Charlotte had been trailing the van for what felt like an eternity, the sound of her bike’s motor humming as she maintained a careful distance. She thought to herself, "(I need to tell my teammate that I can’t go, that something came up... but before that, I need to follow them for now.)"

Her thoughts were racing as the van took a sharp turn, slowly descending into a quiet suburban road near Ridgeview Park. Charlotte’s curiosity piqued, and she immediately stopped her bike, making sure not to make a sound as she surveyed her surroundings. She had reached a point where she could finally make the call.

She pulled out her phone, dialing Isabella "Izzy" Moreno’s number. The phone rang once, twice, and then a familiar voice answered.

Isabella: "Charlotte?"

Charlotte hesitated for a moment, her hand gripping the phone tightly. The weight of the situation was starting to settle in. She couldn’t ignore it any longer. "Um... I can’t go to our match today." she said, her voice low, almost apologetic.

There was a pause on the other end. Isabella’s voice then cracked with concern. "What? What’s going on?"

Charlotte took a deep breath. She didn’t want to worry her teammate, but she couldn’t leave things unsaid. "Something came up."

There was another pause, but this time, Isabella didn’t press further. Charlotte could almost feel the silent understanding between them, even though Isabella was still unsure of the full picture.

Isabella let out a soft sigh. "Okay. Whatever it is, be careful."

Charlotte felt a lump form in her throat. The support in Isabella’s voice meant more than she could express in that moment. "Thank you... take care of the team while I’m gone."

Isabella didn’t respond with anything more than a soft hum, and Charlotte hung up. As the phone slipped back into her pocket, she glanced down the quiet road again. The van had stopped near a park. This was it.

.....

Meanwhile, Ethan, Lucas, Louie, and Evan stood, watching Noah with tense expressions.

Noah looked at them, his eyes dark with urgency as he said, "This is the location..."

Louie, ever the cautious one, was the first to react, his voice tight with concern. "We should call the po—"

Noah interrupted him sharply, his voice low and dangerous. "No! No... That fucker... told me he has eyes on everywhere, so he’ll know if we call the police."

Evan clicked his tongue in frustration, his impatience clear in the way he shifted his weight. "Tsk..."

Lucas turned his gaze toward Ethan, his brow furrowed with uncertainty. "What should we do, Ethan?"

Ethan stood still for a moment, his eyes closing as his thoughts raced. "(Shit... to think it became like this... It’s my fault. I changed the plot that led to this...)" His mind flashed back to the decisions that had led them here. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this.

After a long pause, Ethan opened his eyes, his expression hardening with determination. "For now, saving them is important. We need to go now, but we need to carefully plan it."

The others nodded, a quiet understanding passing between them. They knew this wasn’t going to be easy. It would require every bit of their focus.

Ethan exhaled, his voice steady now. "Let’s go."

Then Noah’s thoughts raced as he followed the group, his resolve hardening with every step. "(Wait for me, Mom... Aiden...)" His mind lingered on the faces of the people he cared about, the ones who had unknowingly been dragged into this mess. He couldn’t let anything happen to them. Not now.

As the group moved forward, Charlotte, still keeping her distance, watched the van drive away from the quiet suburban road. Her heart pounded as she quickly revved the motor of her bike, determined not to lose sight of the van. She had been trailing them for a while now, and the moment the van began to move again, she sped up to keep up.

Charlotte’s thoughts raced. "(Where are you going, brother?)" She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, and every instinct told her that she needed to know what was happening—no matter the cost.

Her eyes stayed locked on the van as she navigated the winding roads, feeling the tension rise in her chest.

.....

After twenty tense minutes of quiet, the van finally rolled to a stop in front of an old industrial zone. The roads were cracked, trash littered the edges, and in front of them loomed a decrepit abandoned factory. Its once-tall windows were either boarded up or shattered. The sky above was beginning to gray, casting an eerie light over the desolate scene.

The van door slid open with a creak, and Ethan stepped out first. His shoes crunched on broken gravel as he took in the sight before him.

Nothing but the looming factory.

Lucas stepped out behind him, his brows furrowed.

"Is this it?"

Ethan shook his head, his expression unreadable.

"I don’t know."

Then, without warning, Noah broke into a sprint, eyes wild.

"Aiden! Mom!!" he yelled, charging straight for the factory’s rusted doors.

Evan jolted forward, startled.

"Wait—Noah!!" he called, but Noah didn’t stop.

Louie sighed deeply, already walking after him.

"Man... this guy never listens."

Suddenly, a sharp voice cut through the moment. freeweɓnovel.cøm

"LUCAS!!"

The group turned.

Standing near the edge of the road, helmet in one hand and chest heaving, was Charlotte Graves. Her short black hair was tousled from the ride, and her silver eyes locked sharply onto her brother.

Lucas froze in place, shock clear on his face.

"Sis?!"

He took a step forward.

"Why are you here?"

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed, frustration flickering in her voice.

"I should be the one asking that," she said, her gaze sweeping past Lucas and landing directly on Ethan.

She took a few more steps toward them, the tension thick in the air.

Then she looked straight at Ethan and asked,

"What are you all doing here...? You’re all supposed to be at our match today. Us Thunderhawks vs You Vorpal Basket!"

Ethan exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"(This is troublesome...)" he thought, knowing there was no easy way to explain this.

Lucas turned back to his sister, placing a steady hand on her shoulder.

"Sis, I’ll explain later. But for now..."

He glanced at Ethan, waiting for his cue.

Without hesitation, Ethan looked toward the factory and said firmly,

"Let’s go. Let’s follow Noah."

They took off running, one after the other, into the shadow of the factory.

Charlotte stood there for a second longer—torn between duty, confusion, and the gnawing feeling in her chest that this was bigger than she realized.

Her silver eyes sharpened with resolve.

She hopped back on her bike, tossed the helmet onto the seat, and ran after them.

....

They moved swiftly through the shadowed entrance of the factory, dust clouds rising with every hurried step. The air was thick, filled with the smell of rust, mold, and something else Ethan couldn’t place.

The corridor was wide but dimly lit, flickering overhead lights giving the place a haunted, abandoned feel. Their footsteps echoed against concrete as they followed Noah deeper into the labyrinth of old machinery and rusted catwalks.

Ethan jogged ahead to catch up to him.

"Noah?" he called out.

But Noah didn’t stop. His voice bounced down the empty hall as he shouted,

"Where are you, Mom!? Aiden!!"

Then—a loud hiss.

A sudden psshhhh sound came from the vents above, and a thin, misty cloud began to spread across the hallway, wafting downward like fog on a cold morning.

Louie immediately stepped back, pulling his hoodie over his mouth.

"Shit! What is this!?"

Lucas turned, panic flaring in his chest as he saw the smoke drifting toward them. He grabbed Charlotte’s wrist.

"Sis!!"

Charlotte, already feeling a strange dizziness, called back with a strained voice,

"Lucas!"

Evan looked around frantically, his eyes already starting to flutter from the gas.

"Ethan!!!"

Ethan spun in place, eyes narrowing at the color and consistency of the gas. His breathing slowed as realization hit him.

"This... this is sleeping gas."

That was the last thing he managed to say before his legs gave out beneath him. His vision began to blur as the world tilted sideways.

Around him, one by one, they dropped.

Lucas, still gripping his sister’s hand.

Evan, trying to stay upright.

Louie, swearing under his breath until his voice faded.

Charlotte, her silver eyes blinking rapidly, trying to fight it.

And Noah, who had been the furthest ahead, finally fell to his knees, whispering,

"Mom... Aiden..."

Then—

Silence.

The gas cleared, leaving behind a hallway of unconscious bodies.

And from the shadows above, unseen eyes watched.

....

The hallway was silent—unnaturally quiet. The bodies of the unconscious teens were scattered across the cold concrete floor, like chess pieces knocked over in a game they didn’t even know they were part of. The soft hum of the old ventilation system buzzed overhead, slowly clearing out the last of the sleeping gas.

Greg Tarrow stood over them.

His long coat swayed gently with the breeze coming in through the broken factory windows. His eyes were sharp and cold—more like a scientist examining test subjects than a man looking at kids.

From the shadows, another man stepped out.

He wore a spotless white sheep mask. The glass eyes of the mask stared blankly at the bodies on the floor.

"So this is your plan?" the masked man asked calmly. His voice was soft but clear, even behind the mask. "Sending them into the underground?"

Greg turned just a little, not taking his eyes off the fallen teens.

"I will show the higher-ups that my products are not defective. Those ’side effects’ they claim? I will prove them wrong."

The Sheep tilted his head slightly.

"But that’s not the only reason... is it?"

There was a pause. A quiet, heavy moment.

Greg looked down at the group again. His voice turned colder.

"...And to finish what should’ve been done long ago."

The Sheep didn’t reply. But behind his mask, he was thinking:

(So this is your answer...)

Greg stepped closer to Noah White, who lay near the front of the group. His breathing was soft and even. Greg stared down at him, and for a moment, a cruel smile crossed his lips.

(John White... look at your son. Look at your family. They’ll all die today—by my hands.)

Then Greg’s eyes landed on Ethan Albarado. The boy was unconscious, but his body was tense—like even now, he was trying to fight.

Greg’s jaw tightened.

(This one...)

(According to the report, he’s the one who gave the ointment to the White children. That... intervention. That single act. If it weren’t for him... everything would have gone smoothly. Everything would’ve fallen right into place.)

His hand slowly curled into a fist.

(You’re a variable. A contamination in my formula. And I’ll correct that mistake myself.)

Footsteps echoed down the hallway. More people arrived—figures in black suits, faces hidden behind dark visors. They lined up behind Greg, silent and ready.

The Sheep stayed back, saying nothing.

But inside his mind, his thoughts were clear.

(A man consumed by revenge is already drowning in vengeance. Greg, are you the one who stares into the abyss, or the one who falls into it?)

To be continue