3rd Quarter – 3:00 Minutes Left
Score: 66–27, Vorpal Basket Leads
The scoreboard glared down like a judge announcing a death sentence: 66 to 27. The gym, filled with cheers from Vorpal fans, seemed to mock the losing side with every dribble and dunk.
On the Vultures' bench, tension crackled like a live wire.
Coach Ryland Hale slapped his clipboard against the bench, barely holding back the storm rising in his chest.
"Motherfucker!!" he bellowed, startling the players nearby. His veins were bulging, jaw twitching as he glared at the scoreboard.
Then his eyes locked onto Jamie Lin, the freshman calmly sitting with a towel on his lap, legs crossed, face unreadable.
"You said you had a plan, Lin!" Coach growled. "We're down thirty-nine! You better start explaining how the hell this helps us!"
Jamie slowly stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his shorts. His eyes were sharp, calculating, the eyes of someone who hadn't been idle during this storm.
