The gym didn't sound like the others.
No echoes, no chaos. Just air-conditioning and politics.
Polished floors gleamed beneath bright sponsor lights. Reporters lined the baseline.
Security guards flanked both benches as if guarding royalty.
At mid-bleachers, Governor Alcantara sat perfectly centered, cameras orbiting him.
Beside him, his son Raf tightened the laces of his pristine white-and-gold Imperium Eagles uniform. Every knot was symmetrical.
When Flowstate entered, the noise dipped.
Their neon-trimmed whites looked out of place under the polished light.
Riki raised an eyebrow. "We walk in like extras in somebody else's documentary."
Bong snorted. "Welcome to politics with free Gatorade."
Thea didn't laugh. Her stare stayed on the Governor.
Riki bumped her shoulder. "Relax, Manager. He can't rig the rim."
She exhaled. "No. But he can rig everything else."
Starting Lineups
Flowstate
PG — Riki Dela Peña
SG — Jax Santos
SF — Drei Reyes
PF — Kiano " Kio " Manalo
C — Mateo " Teo " Alvarado
Imperium Eagles
PG — Raf Alcantara
SG — Nico " Prime " De Vera
SF — Leo Sarmiento
PF — Jude Ramirez
C — Roderic " Stone " Ong
Two teams. Two worlds. One whistle.
1st Quarter — Precision vs Chaos
Raf Alcantara dribbled with the rhythm of a metronome.
Every bounce sounded measured, rehearsed.
Riki waited at half-court, smirk cutting through the gold. "Let's see if you sweat, golden boy."
Raf didn't answer—he simply glided past and dished to Prime De Vera.
Corner three. Swish. 0–3.
Flowstate answered the only way they knew: with noise.
Riki spun through traffic, kicked to Drei—jumper off glass. 2–3.
Then the whistles started.
Offensive screen, Teo.
Travel, Kio.
Hand check, Riki.
Bong slapped the scorer's table. "What next, ref—breathing violation?"
The crowd laughed, but the imbalance was clear.
By the buzzer: Imperium 26 – Flowstate 18.
2nd Quarter — Bong's Fire
Jax subbed out; Bong jogged in, grin sharp.
First possession—steal. Clean.
He sprinted the length of the court, laid it in, and pointed to the bench. "See? We still write our own headlines."
Thea cupped her hands. "Tempo control! Bong, call it!"
He lifted a fist. "Flow one!"
Suddenly they were organized chaos.
Teo's screen cracked open space; Drei curled baseline; Riki lobbed behind his back.
Layup.
It worked.
The Governor leaned forward, lips tightening.
Last seconds: loose rebound, Bong outside the arc, one step, prayer shot—banked.
Buzzer. Crowd gasped.
He turned, arms wide. "I told you it was geometry!"
Halftime: Imperium 44 – Flowstate 40.
Locker Room
Thea circled plays on the whiteboard until the marker squeaked.
"They're baiting fouls. Raf's not scoring—he's orchestrating."
Riki stretched, towel over his head. "Then we break the song."
Teo's voice cut through quietly. "We stop following. We lead."
Coach Alvarez nodded once. "Exactly. Stop chasing their rhythm. Make them chase yours."
No one joked after that.
3rd Quarter — The Flow Vision
Flowstate came out lighter, eyes sharper.
Teo called the first set himself.
"High screen. Left cut."
He caught the ball at the elbow, saw movement before it happened, and fired a bounce pass between defenders.
Riki caught it in stride—layup.
The crowd murmured.
Bong from the sideline yelled, "Let him run it! He's seeing the whole floor!"
Riki backed off, trusting him.
Triangle formed—Teo top, Riki wing, Drei corner.
No talking, just movement.
Cut, pass, spin, finish.
It looked effortless.
Flowstate 64 – Imperium 62.
Governor Alcantara's smile thinned.
4th Quarter — The Rigged Rhythm
The whistles came harder.
Touch foul, Teo.
Push off, Riki.
Illegal screen, Kio.
Thea snapped her clipboard in half. "He blinked—call that too!"
Raf stayed steady, running Imperium's system like a calm storm.
Every Flowstate burst met with another cold, perfect answer.
Final minute. Flowstate down two.
Riki drove hard, slipped past Raf, rose for the tie—
Stone met him mid-air, blocked clean.
No whistle.
Clock expired.
84 – 84.
Sweat and disbelief hung in the air.
Crowd roaring—half cheers, half curses.
Teo looked at Riki. No words.
Riki grinned, breath burning. "Still ours."
Thea met his gaze from the sideline, nodding once.
Bong clutched his towel like a flag. "We're not done yet."
Across the floor, Raf Alcantara watched them, expression unreadable—
poised, but not certain.
The gym vibrated with the sound of something bigger than the scoreboard.
End of Chapter 20 — "Imperium Rising."