>Choose one skill to keep!<
1. >Lightning Step (Physical)<
2. >Killer (Defense)<
'What in the blue hell is killer?'
Thinking hard about what this skill could possible be, a vision of Annie with a knife in hand appears inside Lance's mind sending a shiver down his spine.
'Don't tell me... I thought Lance was the gangster! No, no, let's be realistic. An maybe a menace, but she's couldn't bring herself to hurt anyone other than me. Hmm, what could this skill be...'
Lance, once again being forced to use his pea brain for something other than exercise or basketball, feels the rusty gears inside his head turning.
'Aha, this must be related to volleyball, but why would it pop up here? Let me look killer up and see if volleyball has anything related to it.'
Grabbing his phone and a quick search later, Lance found that there is indeed something in volleyball called a kill, a concept revolved around scoring through spiking the ball.
'Spiking the ball and its a defensive based skill... ooooh, why didn't I think of that. It's got to be a block based skill. Probably something rare since it was originally a volleyball based skill.'
Knowing that lightning step, presumably an acceleration skill, would be very helpful. Lance has learned, over the recent weeks, that the athletic skills are unlocked and upgraded by reaching certain levels or control in a certain physical stat.
Having surmised this and feeling like he is on the cusp of a breakthrough for his acceleration stat, Lance decided to choose the [Killer] skill.
Having chosen the skill, Lance moves over to his overview screen and clicks on it, popping up the familiar sub-screen.
>Killer - Novice - Improves players power when performing spikes and improves players ability to score when doing so.<
>Error...Conversion in process...<
>Killer - Novice - Improves players ability to catch up and perform chase down blocks and increases force of blocks.<
'There it is, whew, I thought I was going to start having to score buckets by spiking the ball into the hoop... that might be a fun idea to try actually.'
Getting side tracked by strange scoring ideas, Lance finally comes back to reality, finishes getting dressed, and grabs his new basketball that had been sitting in the corner of his room.
Not to long after Lance had chosen to play basketball, his mother had bought him a ball to practice with. Having not used it yet due to his intent to get his physicals up before he starts practicing, Lance has started to feel really guilty about not using it. Especially, after his mother keeps asking him how he likes it and how sad she looks when he tells her he hasn't.
Picking up the orange ball in his hands, Lance feels a sense of contentment pass through him simply from picking it up. Holding it in his hands and tossing it around, a wry smile finds it's way onto Lance's face.
'It's been to long old friend. It feels almost weird picking you up again.'
Grabbing a bag with some worn out shoes he bought from a local hand me down store, Lance heads for the door.
"Mom, I'm headed out to go practice!"
From inside the kitchen, Lance hears his moms voice, "I thought you said you were taking a break!"
"I am, I'm taking this basketball out for some work! Nothing serious. I'll be back before dinner!"
"Okay, be safe!"
Those last words of concern make Lance laugh to himself, 'Be careful, ha. This Japan, not the rough parts of America.'
Strolling slowly through his neighborhood towards an outdoor court near the North Star gym, Lance gives some waves and light greetings to his neighbors and others who he has come to see everyday during his runs.
"Good afternoon Mrs. Sato."
"Oh, good afternoon Lance. Working out again?"
"Just a little basketball."
"Always working so hard, fufu. Have fun."
"I will!"
Greetings like these continue as Lance moves through the market district, along with quite a few gawking stares as expected. Finally, Lance arrives at an outdoor court nearby the gym, just a block down.
Walking up, he is surprised to find a small crowd around the court as a pickup game is currently in play. Making his way forwards through the crowd, Lance faces some initial pushback from the spectators before they see him. At which point they move subconsciously, forming a nice path for him to walk up to the edge of the court. Behind him, many of the spectators begin to chatter to themselves.
"Oh my god, that guy is massive!"
"Do you see the size of his quads?!"
"Is he a pro player? He's got to be."
Ignoring the chatter around him, Lance is instead laser focused on the intense game of pick up currently going on.
Most of the players on the court seem to be a little older than Lance, probably around the college to young adult age with a few salary men out there as well.
Only one player seems to be around his age, a tallish kid with black hair and brown eyes with average facial features. However, his game is anything but average being a very solid player in almost all aspects of play backed by rock solid fundamentals. Nothing flashy but a perfect silent glue man that excels at holding a team together, of which he is doing an excellent job at considering his team is leading 16-13.
On the court, a fit, middle aged man catches a pass on the high post and begins to back down his defender. Using a well timed head fake along with a slight shimmy of the shoulders, the salaryman gets his defender to bite allowing him enough room for a comfortable turn around jumper. Classic, early 2000s basketball personified in a beautiful move. The scorekeeper flips the sign, 18-13.
Lance begins to feel himself get fired up as a hippie like player with baggy jeans, tank top and poorly dyed blonde hair makes a good defensive stop, anticipating a pass from the opposing point guard and catching it in stride as he runs down the court on a fast break.
However, contrary to expectations, the blonde haired hippie dishes the ball out to the three where the high school boy is waiting, catching the ball and shooting with finesse as he draining the shot from three. With the scorekeepers flip of the scorecard, 21-13, the game comes to an end as some of the spectators shuffle onto the court in excitement.
'Wow, I'm surprised that this city seems so passionate about basketball. How...heartwarming.'
Feeling a surge of melancholy at some old memories, Lance hears a young adult with a classic hooper fit on take charge of the court, "Alright, everyone move off. We need a new five out here. Whose got next?"
Most of the spectators, content with merely watching, scurry off the court with a small few lingering around either to muster the courage to volunteer to play or trying to convince a friend to play with them.
Lance, unable to hold himself back, booms his deep voice across the court, "I call next."
Seeing everyone turn to look at him as conversation dies down, Lance feels a welling sense of excitement bubble up inside of him as adrenaline begins to pump through his veins.
The young man in charge looks at Lance warily, "We typically don't let pros play, not that we've ever had any."
Lance looks at him with confusion, "Pro? Man, I'm 16."
One second. Two seconds. Then all the air in the area seems to get sucked in all once as nearly everyone shouts simultaneously, "WHAT?!"