The afternoon sun cut through the gymnasium windows in golden slashes, painting the hardwood in patterns of light and shadow. Darius went through his warmup routine with mechanical precision—layup lines, form shooting from the elbows, three-pointers from the wings. His body moved through the familiar motions while his mind stayed locked on the game ahead.
Westridge Preparatory. Another C-tier school. Another opportunity to prove something.
Coach Williams was running the second string through their final warmup drills when the gymnasium doors opened. Darius was mid-shot, the ball rotating through the air toward the basket, when he caught the movement in his peripheral vision.
The first string walked in as a unit. Khalil's height made him immediately recognizable even from across the court. Marcus Thompson was beside him, talking to Terrell Jackson. The entire starting five, plus their bench players, filing into the stands like they were spectators at a professional game.
Behind them, Coach Martinez walked in with his arms crossed, his eyes already scanning the court, evaluating, analyzing.
The ball Darius had shot went through the net with a soft swish, but he barely registered it. His eyes locked onto the first string players as they found seats in the bleachers directly behind the home bench. The positioning wasn't accidental. They had the best view of the court from there. The best angle to see everything.
Something ignited in Darius's chest. Not nervousness. Not anxiety. Pure competitive fire.
His face broke into a smile that he couldn't have suppressed even if he'd wanted to. It wasn't a friendly smile or a casual grin. It was the smile of someone who'd just been handed exactly what they wanted—an audience that mattered, a stage that could change everything, an opportunity to prove beyond any doubt that he belonged.
In the stands, Khalil settled into his seat and immediately felt something cold run down his spine. Darius was looking directly at them, and that smile on his face was familiar in a way that made Khalil's stomach tighten.
He'd seen that smile before. On his own face in the mirror before big games. On the faces of elite competitors who were about to do something special. It wasn't confidence. It was certainty. The absolute knowledge that what was about to happen had already been decided, and everyone watching was just going to witness the execution.
"You see that?" Marcus Thompson muttered from beside Khalil, his voice low enough that only those immediately around him could hear.
"Yeah," Khalil responded quietly. "I see it."
"Kid's about to go off, isn't he?"
"Probably."
Terrell Jackson leaned forward from the row behind them. "This is going to be fun to watch."
The referee's whistle cut through the gymnasium noise, signaling two minutes until tip-off. Both teams gathered at their benches for final instructions.
Coach Williams pulled his starters close—Darius at point guard, Connor at shooting guard, Ty at small forward, Marcus (second string) at power forward, and Jerome at center. The same lineup that had developed chemistry over the last few games.
"Same principles," Williams said, his voice carrying that calm authority that inspired confidence without demanding it. "Move the ball. Play together. Execute. They're C-tier for a reason, but that doesn't mean we disrespect them. We impose our will early and we don't let up. Understood?"
"Yes, Coach," the five starters responded in unison.
As they broke the huddle, the Hustle System activated in Darius's vision, text appearing with crystalline clarity.
GAME OBJECTIVES ACTIVE
Primary Goals:
Score 15+ points Record 8+ assists Maintain shooting percentage above 55% Force 2+ turnovers
Bonus Objective:
Complete game with 0 turnovers
Special Condition: First String Observation Active Performance impact on roster evaluation: MAXIMUM
XP Potential: Very High Current Level: 27
Darius took a deep breath, centering himself. The objectives were clear. The stakes were obvious. The audience was watching.
Time to work.
The announcer's voice boomed through the gymnasium speakers. "Starting at point guard for Lincoln Heights Second String, number seven, Darius Kingsley!"
Darius jogged to center court as his name was called, and the sound of his first string teammates clapping from the stands sent another surge of adrenaline through his system. This was it. This was the moment he'd been training for since 5:30 this morning. Since every morning for the last six months.
The referee held the ball at center court. Jerome and Westridge's center positioned themselves for the jump ball. Both teams' starters spread out around the circle, bodies coiled with anticipation.
The ball went up.
Jerome got a hand on it, tipping it back toward Darius.
Game Time: 10:00 | Lincoln Heights 0, Westridge Prep 0
Darius caught the ball and immediately felt the familiar weight of it in his hands, the texture of the leather against his fingertips. He took two dribbles forward, crossing half court while reading the defense forming in front of him.
Westridge's point guard picked him up just past the timeline, his stance aggressive but not quite disciplined. Hands a bit too high. Feet a fraction too wide. Small details that the Hustle System's enhanced court awareness highlighted like neon signs.
Darius called for motion, his voice cutting through the gymnasium noise with authority. "Motion! Let's go!"
His teammates immediately responded. Connor came off a screen on the right side. Ty cut baseline on the left. Jerome flashed to the high post. Marcus positioned himself on the left block.
The floor opened up like a playbook diagram coming to life.
Darius dribbled left, drawing his defender with him, then whipped a cross-court pass to Connor on the right wing. The ball traveled through the air with perfect velocity and rotation, arriving at Connor's shooting pocket exactly when his feet were set.
Connor caught it and immediately looked to attack. His defender closed out hard, forcing Connor to drive baseline instead. Two dribbles took him toward the rim, but Westridge's center stepped up to contest.
Connor jumped and kicked it to Jerome, who had rolled to the basket after setting a screen. Jerome caught it in stride and finished with a two-handed dunk that made the rim shake.
Lincoln Heights 2, Westridge Prep 0.
Game Time: 9:37
Objective Progress: 1/8 Assists
In the stands, Marcus Thompson nodded. "Good read. Simple basketball."
Westridge brought the ball up, their point guard trying to establish some tempo. He crossed half court and immediately called for a screen. Their power forward came up to set it, his positioning solid.
Darius fought through the screen, staying attached to his man. The point guard tried to turn the corner, but Darius's lateral quickness—improved from months of 5:30 AM defensive slide drills—kept him in front.
The point guard pulled it back out and swung it to his shooting guard on the wing. The ball moved again, this time to their small forward in the corner.
Darius tracked the ball movement, his enhanced court vision allowing him to see passing lanes before they fully developed. When the small forward tried to drive baseline, Darius rotated from the weak side and cut off the angle, forcing a difficult shot that clanged off the rim.
Jerome grabbed the rebound.
Darius was already moving, sprinting up the right side of the court. Jerome's outlet pass hit him in stride at half court. Darius caught it without breaking his momentum and attacked in transition before Westridge could get set.
Two defenders converged on him as he approached the three-point line. Darius jumped and kicked it to Ty trailing on the left wing. Ty caught it and shot a three-pointer in rhythm.
The ball arced through the air, rotating perfectly, and dropped through the net without touching the rim.
Lincoln Heights 5, Westridge Prep 0.
Game Time: 9:14
Objective Progress: 2/8 Assists
"Ball movement," Coach Martinez said from the stands, his voice barely audible but his approval clear in his tone.
Westridge called their offense into action, running a set designed to get their shooting guard an open look. The ball swung from side to side, forcing Lincoln Heights' defense to rotate constantly.
Darius stayed locked on his man, his hands active but not reaching, his positioning forcing the point guard away from his preferred spots. When the shooting guard finally got his shot off, it was contested by Connor's perfect closeout.
Miss.
Marcus (second string) grabbed the rebound and immediately found Darius at the top of the key. Darius caught it and pushed the pace again, his conditioning allowing him to sprint full speed without losing control of his dribble.
He crossed half court and immediately saw the play developing. Jerome was sealing his defender on the left block. Connor was spotting up on the right wing. Ty was cutting from the weak side.
Darius drove hard into the paint, his first step explosive enough to get past his defender's initial contest. Westridge's center stepped up, his long arms reaching toward the ball.
Don't force it. Read it.
The thought came automatic now, the result of hundreds of drives where he'd had to fight through his trauma response. He could feel the familiar tension starting to build in his chest as he approached the rim, that warning signal that used to freeze him completely.
But he'd been working on this. Every morning. Every practice. Gradually exposing himself to contact, building tolerance, training his body to push through the fear.
Darius went up anyway, his body twisting in mid-air to avoid the hardest contact but still finishing through the challenge. The floater left his hands at the perfect angle, kissing off the glass and dropping through the net.
Lincoln Heights 7, Westridge Prep 0.
Game Time: 8:49
Objective Progress: 2/15 Points | 2/8 Assists | Shooting: 1/1 (100%)
In the stands, Khalil leaned forward slightly. "He finished through contact. Six months ago he wouldn't have done that."
"Kid's developing," Marcus agreed. "You can see the work paying off."
Westridge finally got on the board with a quick two-pointer, their point guard hitting a pull-up jumper from the elbow.
Lincoln Heights 7, Westridge Prep 2.
Game Time: 8:26
Darius brought it back up and immediately called for a pick-and-roll with Jerome. The screen came solid, forcing Westridge's defense to make a decision. Darius's defender went under the screen, giving Darius space.
He rose up from eighteen feet and shot without hesitation. The form was textbook—elbow aligned, follow-through perfect, rotation tight. The ball traced its arc through the air and fell through the net.
Lincoln Heights 9, Westridge Prep 2.
Game Time: 8:07
Objective Progress: 4/15 Points | Shooting: 2/2 (100%)
The game continued in that rhythm. Westridge would score, showing flashes of competence that explained why they were still competitive despite their C-tier status. But Lincoln Heights answered every time, their offense flowing with the kind of chemistry that had developed over weeks of playing together.
With seven minutes left in the quarter, Darius drove baseline and kicked to Connor for an open three. Good.
Lincoln Heights 12, Westridge Prep 4.
Game Time: 7:02
Objective Progress: 3/8 Assists
With six and a half minutes left, Darius grabbed a defensive rebound and pushed in transition. He drove into the paint—his body tense but functional as he navigated through traffic—and kicked to Marcus under the basket for an easy layup.
Lincoln Heights 14, Westridge Prep 6.
Game Time: 6:34
Objective Progress: 4/8 Assists
The assists were coming naturally now, the offense operating exactly as it should when a true point guard was running it. Darius wasn't forcing anything, wasn't trying to pad stats. Just playing basketball the right way and letting the numbers accumulate organically.
Westridge called timeout with six minutes left in the quarter, their coach trying to stem the tide before it became a blowout.
Current Score: Lincoln Heights 14, Westridge Prep 6
As both teams walked to their benches, Darius glanced up at the stands. The first string was watching intently, their body language showing complete engagement. Coach Martinez had his arms crossed, but there was something in his expression that might have been approval.
Khalil's eyes met Darius's for just a second. No words passed between them, but the acknowledgment was clear.
I see you. Keep going.
The timeout ended. Both teams returned to the court.
Five minutes left in the quarter. The real show was just beginning.