The game pressed on.
Vega City's faithful, drenched in sweat and decked out in Vega Tigers jerseys, erupted with chants of "Frye! Frye! MVP! MVP!" rallying behind their hometown rookie darling.
Ryan Carter snagged the inbound pass.
He advanced, sneakers screeching against the polished hardwood, with Frye right in his face.
He called for a screen, and Zeke set one like a goddamn oak.
Frye fought through it, but Ryan was already gone—a blur to the left—rising up at the 15-foot mark.
His wrists snapped. The ball arced like a missile.
Swish.
34 to 30.
Team Nealson fans erupted, their cheers crashing through the arena, pushing back against Vega's home-court wave.
"Ryan's got twelve!" Mason shouted from the booth.
Frye, stone-faced, took the ball and stared down Amin—renowned for his defense, and never an easy man to beat.
No screens. No tricks. Just a head-on duel.
He gave a subtle fake, stepped back to the wing, and let the three fly.
Swish. 34 to 33.
The arena trembled.
