Extra Basket-Chapter 73 - 60: White (16)

4-2

Timeout.

The game had turned into a battle of wills—on one side, the cold, calculated Venganza players, and on the other, Ethan and his ragtag team, struggling to hold their ground. The scoreboard flashed 4-2 in favor of Venganza, and the whistle blew for a timeout. The six teenagers hustled to the sideline, sweat dripping, hearts pounding. Their breathing was heavy, but their minds were racing even faster.

Louie Gee Davas wiped his face with his sleeve, his eyes flicking nervously to the other side of the court. The Venganza players stood with their backs straight, as though they hadn’t even broken a sweat. The difference was stark, terrifying. Louie couldn’t shake the feeling that they were walking into a trap they didn’t even understand.

Louie gritted "I’m talented, and these guys are strong. How the fuck are they this good?"

Ethan gritted his teeth and glanced at Louie. He didn’t have much time to explain the full scope of what was happening, but he knew now was as good a time as any.

Ethan said with serious gaze "They’re not just strong. They’re enhanced. These guys are on a different level. They’ve got a pill that makes them faster, stronger—unpredictable. That’s how they’re dominating us."

Louie’s expression was a mix of disbelief and frustration. He looked over at the Venganza players, his mind racing to process what Ethan had just said.

Louie confused said "A pill?"

Noah "Is this what you’ve been talking about, Ethan?"

Ethan nodded, his jaw clenched. His heart pounded harder as the reality of their situation settled in. He had warned them, but even he hadn’t anticipated how outclassed they would be by these enhanced opponents.

Before he could respond, Lucas Graves, who had been eerily silent until now, spoke up.

Lucas "What did you talk about? What is it?"

Ethan glanced at Lucas, seeing the confusion written on his face. It wasn’t just Lucas who was lost everyone else was too. Charlotte, still caught in the whirlwind of everything happening, was clearly overwhelmed.

Charlotte "I don’t understand any of this. Why is this... what the hell is going on?"

The question hung in the air, unanswered for a moment. But before anyone could respond, Noah, his fists clenched in barely contained rage, spoke up. His voice was tight, controlled but laced with desperation.

Noah "I’ll tell you what’s going on. My mother and brother—they’ve been kidnapped. By a man named Greg."

The mention of Greg made the air in the huddle thicken. Charlotte’s eyes widened, her confusion turning to alarm.

Charlotte confused "Kidnapped? What do you mean kidnapped?"

Noah’s face was pale, his hands trembling with suppressed anger. He could feel the weight of his words press down on him as he explained.

Noah gritted his teeth and holding back his anger saying "Greg’s the one behind all of this. He’s using this game to keep us here. My mother, my brother—they’re both locked away somewhere. He’s holding them hostage, threatening to kill them if we don’t win."

Lucas frowned, stepping closer to Noah, trying to grasp the enormity of the situation. He’d heard of Greg in passing, but this was the first time he realized the full depth of the man’s obsession.

Charlotte stared at Noah, her eyes wide. The pieces were starting to fall into place, but the truth was more terrifying than she had imagined. She had only followed Lucas here—she didn’t know any of the backstory, didn’t know who Greg was or why he was doing this.

But there was no time to dwell on it. There was a game to be played, and the seconds were ticking down.

"This is insane. Then... this isn’t just a game."

Ethan’s eyes darted to the clock. They had two minutes left before the first quarter ended, and the pressure of the situation was already starting to crush him. His heart was pounding in his chest, but there was no time for panic. He had to focus. They had to focus.

"We can win. We have to win. Just follow my lead. Trust each other."

The urgency in his voice cut through the tension in the huddle. It wasn’t the time to waste words. They had a game to win, and their lives depended on it.

Ethan "This is bigger than basketball. But right now, this is the only way out. We need to give it everything we have."

Louie’s breath hitched as he nodded, determination creeping back into his features. Charlotte, though still confused, gave a subtle nod. Lucas shot a glance at Ethan, his expression hardening.

Noah gritted his teeth and looked up at the court. "For my mom. For my brother," he muttered under his breath, his resolve solidifying.

As the team gathered themselves, Lucas’s confusion couldn’t be ignored anymore. He needed answers, and Ethan was the only one who could provide them.

Lucas "I’m still asking, what is this pill, Ethan?" He looked directly at Ethan, his eyes burning with curiosity.

Ethan paused for a moment, a slight flicker of hesitation in his expression. He could tell Lucas was trying to piece it all together. The look on his face—he was desperate to understand, just like everyone else

.

Ethan thought: (Lucas... I knew you were confused. Curious. You took that pill, that was given to you by the old man, and that’s how you gained the power of Absolute Mimicry... but I don’t have time for this right now. Sorry, Lucas.)

Before Ethan could voice his thoughts, Lucas spoke again, his voice soft but firm.

Lucas "Ethan?"

Ethan snapped back to reality. He opened his mouth to answer, but—

Whistle.

The game was back on. The sound cut through the air like a blade. Time was running out.

Ethan "I’ll tell you after this quarter."

Lucas’s face showed a mix of confused and understanding, but he nodded.

Lucas "O-okay."

And with that, the huddle broke apart. The game resumed, and the pressure mounted once more. Every second counted, and Ethan knew there would be no time for answers until the final whistle blew. But his promise to Lucas hung in the air, just like the tension on the court.

They had to fight. They had to survive. And once the quarter ended, maybe then—just maybe—they’d have time for answers. But for now, it was all about staying in the game. For Noah’s family. For their lives.

The clock was ticking.

....

The moment the whistle blew, the tension snapped into motion.

As The Ordinary moved into position, Ethan had the ball. His hands moved instinctively, dribbling low and quick as he surveyed the court. Sweat dripped down his brow, but his eyes were clear—sharp with determination.

From the side, Lucas watched him closely, his mind whirling.

Lucas thought (Pill... what does that mean? Did these people use a pill? Is it the same as the one the old man gave me?)

His gaze shifted to the opposing team—Venganza. Five players. Each of them felt off. Strong. Dangerous. Unnatural.

Lucas thought (These guys... they’re not normal. There’s something behind their strength. But if Ethan’s right... then maybe the pill—)

He shook his head suddenly, pushing the thoughts away. Now wasn’t the time.

Lucas thought (Focus, Lucas. Focus... We need to win this game. All those questions—set them aside for now.)

The ball bounced rhythmically against the court, echoing like a countdown. The answers would come. But right now, it was time to fight.

.......

1:50 left in the first quarter.

The scoreboard glowed faintly in the background, its red digits counting down like a ticking bomb. Every second mattered. Every movement counted.

Ethan drove hard with the ball, breaking past the three-point line with precision and fury. His steps were sharp, refined—his eyes, however, were sharper. They weren’t locked solely on the rim—they were dancing from player to player, scanning for gaps, cracks, and chances like a master chess player seeing ten moves ahead.

Crossover.

A quick stutter step, then he snapped the ball to his right with a flick of his wrist. The defender twitched—half a step left, baited by the fake.

Ethan didn’t wait.

He exploded forward, his hips dropping low, shoulder angling in. A clean blow-by off the dribble. It wasn’t just speed—it was rhythm, calculation, and instinct. He was already slicing into the paint before the help defense even realized he was gone.

From the corner, Louie raised a hand.

"I’m open!" he shouted.

A laugh rang out—mocking, unhinged, and disturbingly innocent.

"No you aren’t!!"

It was Zaia—Kaia’s twisted alternate, dancing on the edge of madness as she mirrored Louie’s every step. She bounced lightly on her feet, eyes gleaming with glee, like a child playing tag in a warzone.

Louie scowled.

"Tsk..."

He bit his lip, his eyes narrowing.

Louie thought," (This girl’s a damn lunatic...I gotta come up with something... fast.)"

Memories flashed—his streetball days, concrete courts, double-crosses, no rules, just creativity. The only way to break free of chaos... was to embrace it.

While Ethan drove, the defense swarmed into place like synchronized shadows.

Ethan, face-to-face with Vin Cruz, the iron-willed captain of Venganza, whose presence was like an immovable wall at the rim.

Lucas, on the wing, guarded by Dante Cruz, Vin’s younger brother—a sharp-eyed tactician, the Vision Specialist, who could read offensive sets before they formed.

Charlotte, boxed in by Zeke Monroe, the smooth, athletic Small Forward with a poker face and punishing defense.

Evan, dwarfed under the watchful gaze of Silas Korrin, the towering Center and ruthless enforcer of the paint.

Louie clenched his fists.

Louie thought "(They’re locked in. Every one of us. These monsters aren’t just strong... they’re coordinated. They’re fast. Too fast. If Ethan gets collapsed on... it’s over. We’ll lose momentum. We’ll lose control.)"

He glanced at Zaia, who now hummed a tune to herself, crouched in a predator’s stance.

Louie thought "(I need to shake her. No, I need to break her rhythm. There’s no space—so I’ll make some.)"

He sucked in a breath.

The ball was still in Ethan’s hands, but Louie knew—the window was closing.

..

As Ethan took the risk.

A sudden step-back—just enough space from Vin.

His fingers snapped. The ball was airborne.

A no-look, one-hand side flick that whipped past Vin’s outstretched hand and curved toward the right wing like a guided missile.

Straight to Louie.

Zaia lunged, eyes blazing with chaotic delight. "GOTCHAAAAAA!"

But Louie wasn’t there.

He ghosted.

Just as the ball came in, Louie dipped low—a reverse pivot off his plant foot, using Zaia’s momentum against her. She flew past him, hair whipping like a comet’s tail, missing him by inches.

Louie caught the ball clean. Back to the rim.

"(Street rules...)," he thought, mind snapping back to those concrete days under flickering lights and crooked rims. "(Time to go old school.)"

He dribbled once, hard—then whipped the ball behind his back, spun around Zaia, and nutmegged a recovering Zeke, who tried to rotate over.

Silence. Just feet pounding the floor. Breaths. Tension.

Louie drove through the gap.

Silas Korrin stepped in—a towering figure, arms ready to swat anything.

Louie didn’t flinch.

In mid-air, he twisted, double-pumping his fake. Silas bit on the shot.

Too late—the ball left Louie’s hands. A bounce pass—sharp, low—through the gap.

Right into Evan’s hands.

Evan caught it, turned, and threw it down.

SLAM.

The sound of the dunk echoed in the cavernous space. Metal rattled. Dust shook loose from the ceiling.

4–3.

1:19 remaining.

Noah stood up from the bench, eyes wide. "Let’s go!"

Ethan gave Louie a small nod.

Vin narrowed his eyes, his arms crossed. "...So they’re not just talk."

Zaia pouted and whispered to herself, "I missed... that was fun."

Lucas looked over at Louie, then back at Ethan. "Is that a street style?"

Ethan smirked slightly. "You’ll see more."

Charlotte stared at the court, gripping her arm. She leaned toward Lucas. "They’re serious. These guys..."

Lucas nodded slowly. "Yeah."

To be continue