Once again, the ball rested in the hands of Team E.
Jamie stood near the wing, locked in a physical duel with Thiseas, their arms brushing, shoulders pushing, neither man giving an inch. His teammate held the ball at the top of the arc, eyes darting between Jamie and the defender in front of him.
There was no clean pass. No open lane.
So he made a decision.
He lowered his center of gravity and began to dribble fast and tight. Crossovers, behind the back, inside outs each move testing the patience of the defender. And then, with a subtle twitch of the shoulder, he baited him.
The defender bit.
A quick sidestep. A sudden launch.
The shot flew from his fingertips in a high arc, slicing through the air toward the rim.
From the moment the ball left his hands, Jamie's instincts flared.
"It's off."
He exploded toward the paint, muscles coiled, eyes never leaving the orange sphere. Thiseas noticed too, and without hesitation, he sprinted in.
Two bodies. One rebound.
The ball clanged off the rim with a metallic ring.
Both leapt.
In the air, they clashed power versus pride. Jamie's arm swung out to claim the rebound like it belonged to him by birthright...
...but Thiseas rose just a sliver higher.
Snap.
The ball was in his hands.
A murmur ran through the gym. A small victory but a statement.
Landing with a heavy thud, Thiseas didn't hesitate. He pivoted, protecting the ball from Jamie's reach, and fired it to his teammate waiting at the three point line.
His breath was heavy, sweat sliding down his temples, but his eyes burned now.
This wasn't over.
Not yet.
Thiseas teammate dribbled near the three point line, shoulders tense, feet shuffling rapidly to keep his defender at bay. But the pressure was suffocating, and the offense was stalling.
Thiseas, planted just outside the paint, clenched his fists.
"I have to take this into my own hands. If I want that contract... I need to beat him. One on one."
He raised his hand high, calling for the ball.
A swift pass arced his way, and Thiseas caught it, squaring up against the shadow that had been looming over the court all game Jamie.
The moment he turned to face him, a chill ran down his spine.
Jamie wasn't just defending.
He was hunting.
That look in his eyes it wasn't just focus, it was instinct. Like an apex predator sizing up a challenger who dared to step into his territory.
"He's just one guy..." Thiseas told himself.
He lowered his shoulder, took a hard dribble, and rammed into Jamie's chest with a solid bump trying to create even the tiniest space.
But Jamie didn't budge.
It was like colliding with a wall that flexed and pushed back.
Still, Thiseas spun off the contact, took a breath, and launched a sky hook.
For a second, it floated up perfectly.
But that second was all Jamie needed.
With a terrifying burst, Jamie exploded upward, hand outstretched, reading the shot like a textbook.
Smack.
A thunderous rejection echoed through the gym as Jamie sent the ball sailing out of bounds. Gasps followed.
Thiseas landed hard, his eyes wide.
"What...?"
He stared at Jamie for a breathless second. His pride stung more than his arms.
"He blocked my sky hook...? No one ever blocks that..."
Then he glanced at where the ball had gone bouncing out of bounds. A lucky break.
He exhaled, swallowing the knot in his throat.
"He's in another league..."
But as he stepped toward the sideline to inbound the ball, he clenched his fists tighter.
"I got lucky this time. Next time... I'll need more than luck."
Up in the stands, Aleksandar leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clenched into trembling fists.
His eyes locked on Jamie on that overwhelming presence that dominated the court like a king among peasants.
"This... this can't be real."
The words circled in his mind like a storm he couldn't escape. Every move Jamie made, every leap, every pass, every block it was too much.
Too fast. Too strong. Too perfect.
Aleksandar felt his jaw tighten, a vein pulsing in his temple. It wasn't just awe. It was something darker.
Frustration.
Fear.
Jealousy.
On the other side of the stands, Nikola sat frozen in silence. His heart beat slower not from calm, but from the cold weight settling in his chest.
He'd been confident. Hopeful. Hungry.
But that hunger was now devoured by dread.
His thoughts, unspoken, mirrored Aleksandar's:
"How can someone like that exist... here? In a tryout like this?"
Jamie wasn't playing basketball.
He was rewriting the rules of it.
And the worst part?
He made it look easy.
That very thought tore into Nikola's confidence like claws in paper. His dreams just moments ago vibrant and full of fire were now flickering like dying embers.
"I can't compete with that..."
The two sat far apart. They hadn't even looked at each other.
But like a silent wave, their self confidence had been swallowed whole, consumed by the shadow of a single player.
Jamie.
And though the game was still being played down below...
...up in the stands, two young men were already fighting to hold on to their fading belief.
The ball was once again in the hands of Thiseas' teammate at the top of the arc. He dribbled in place, scanning for a passing lane, his sneakers squeaking slightly against the polished wood floor.
Then, a voice cut through the air like a blade.
"ISO."
It was Thiseas his tone calm, but with an edge of determination sharp enough to draw blood.
He looked Jamie dead in the eye.
"You and me. One on one."
Jamie raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly, and stepped back, accepting the challenge.
"Let's see it then."
The pass came. Thiseas caught it and immediately shifted his weight forward, his body coiled like a spring.
The gym held its breath.
One dribble. Two. Then, with a burst of controlled power, he drove left.
Jamie stayed with him.
But Thiseas wasn't done.
Near the free throw line, in one fluid motion, he slashed into a euro step, his long legs gliding across the hardwood like a predator in motion. Left... then right his final step carving through the defense like a dagger.
Jamie lunged to contest
Too late.
Thiseas had already extended his arm, the ball floating off his fingertips and kissing the glass before dropping cleanly through the net.
Swish.
A beat of silence.
Then the scoreboard flipped: 5 : 1.
The crowd murmured. Aleksandar and Nikola sat up slightly.
Jamie didn't say a word as he walked to collect the ball, his eyes narrowed not in frustration, but in acknowledgment.
Thiseas jogged back, his breath steady, a faint grin tugging at his lips.
He'd struck back.
And with that one basket, he reminded everyone especially Jamie that this fight wasn't over just yet.