It was a little past four in the afternoon in Sector 12 of the Underground, at the Falcons' gym. From the outside, the building was ugly, just a gray concrete block wedged between a garage and a half-rotten old warehouse. But inside, it was a different story. The hardwood had just been redone, the hoops were dialed in perfectly, and there were benches along the wall for the rare few who came to watch practice.
That day, the bleachers were empty. It was just the team, grinding through it, since nobody really cared about the day-to-day of Breakball teams anymore because in a few days, the big season-ending clash was happening: Blacklist against Colossus. The whole league was waiting for that match with an almost sick excitement, like they wanted to see blood on the court.
Erica was on the edge of the court, tablet pressed to her chest. She was calling out rotations, her eyes moving from one player to another to check nobody was screwing up.
