VORPAL 53 – WILDCATS 54
The scoreboard glowed red, casting a tense light over the Vorpal bench. The Wildcats had finally nudged ahead, one point, a razor-thin margin. The gym pulsed with anticipation. Every dribble, every pivot, every subtle movement of the players carried weight.
Coach Fred Mason leaned forward, hands gripping the edge of his chair, a mixture of anxiety and pride written across his sweat-streaked face. "Alright… bring them back. Lucas, Ethan, Brandon, Louie, Evan. That's our core. Let's show them what identity looks like."
Lucas Graves jogged onto the court, his yellow eyes sharp and focused. Absolute Mimicry had already been activated, but this wasn't about copying anymore. This was about anticipation, reading the gaps, and creating the rhythm Vorpal needed. He caught the first pass from the inbound cleanly, his fingers brushing the ball with the precision of a craftsman.
