The timeout ended with Lincoln Heights leading 14-6, and Darius brought the ball up court with a clarity of purpose that made everything feel inevitable. The Hustle System pulsed softly in his vision, not with instructions but with confirmation—he was operating at peak efficiency, every decision correct before he even made it.
Game Time: 5:53
Westridge's point guard picked him up at half court, his defensive stance tighter now after the coaching adjustments during the timeout. But tighter didn't mean better. Darius saw the overcompensation immediately—feet too close together, weight forward instead of centered.
Darius hit him with a quick between-the-legs dribble that forced the defender to shift his weight. The moment he did, Darius crossed back and exploded past his left shoulder. Two dribbles got him into the paint, where Westridge's center was already stepping up.
Darius jumped, his body instinctively twisting to minimize contact while still maintaining shooting position. The floater came off his fingertips at the perfect angle, arcing high over the center's outstretched arms.
Glass. Net.
Lincoln Heights 16, Westridge Prep 6.
Game Time: 5:41
Objective Progress: 6/15 Points | Shooting: 3/3 (100%)
The home crowd—small but vocal, mostly students who'd stayed after school and parents who'd arrived early—erupted. It wasn't the size of the reaction that mattered. It was the quality. That sharp intake of breath when something special was happening, when people recognized they were watching someone operate at a different level.
In the stands, Terrell Jackson leaned toward Khalil. "He's feeling it."
Khalil didn't respond immediately. He was too focused on what he was watching. The way Darius moved wasn't just skilled. It was intentional. Every dribble had purpose. Every step was calculated. This wasn't someone playing well by accident. This was someone executing a plan.
Westridge brought the ball back, trying to establish some offensive rhythm. Their shooting guard came off a screen and caught the ball on the right wing. Connor closed out hard, his hand up, forcing a difficult shot that missed.
Jerome grabbed the rebound and immediately looked up court. Darius was already moving.
Game Time: 5:18
The outlet pass came perfect, hitting Darius in stride just past half court. He attacked in transition with Connor filling the right lane and Ty sprinting up the left side. Two defenders scrambled back, trying to get set.
Darius drove straight at them, forcing both to commit to stopping his penetration. At the last possible second, he whipped a behind-the-back pass to Connor on the right wing.
Connor caught it without breaking stride, took one dribble, and rose up for a three-pointer.
Nothing but net.
Lincoln Heights 19, Westridge Prep 6.
Game Time: 5:09
Objective Progress: 5/8 Assists
The crowd was getting louder now. Students were on their feet. Parents were clapping. Even the Westridge fans were making noise—not for their team, but in acknowledgment of what they were witnessing.
"That pass was disgusting," Marcus Thompson said from the stands, his voice carrying genuine admiration. "Behind the back in transition? Most guys can't even make that read, let alone execute it."
Westridge called their offense into a set, trying to slow the pace, trying to stop the bleeding. The ball swung from side to side, methodical and patient. Their power forward finally got an open mid-range shot and converted it.
Lincoln Heights 19, Westridge Prep 8.
Game Time: 4:47
But Darius answered immediately. He brought it up, called for a screen from Jerome at the top of the key, and used it to turn the corner. Westridge's defense collapsed into the paint, all five defenders sagging toward the rim.
Darius kicked it to Ty in the left corner. Open three. Ty shot without hesitation.
Swish.
Lincoln Heights 22, Westridge Prep 8.
Game Time: 4:29
Objective Progress: 6/8 Assists
Fourteen-point lead. The game was starting to slip away from Westridge, and everyone in the gymnasium could feel it.
Darius picked up his defensive intensity, pressuring Westridge's point guard full court. His hands were active without reaching, his feet moving with the kind of lateral quickness that made ball-handlers uncomfortable. The point guard tried to drive past him, but Darius stayed in front, forcing him to pick up his dribble.
Trapped. The point guard threw a desperate pass to his shooting guard. Connor jumped the passing lane and deflected it. The ball bounced loose.
Darius dove for it.
His body hit the hardwood hard, the impact sending a jolt through his chest. For a microsecond, that familiar tension spiked—the trauma response trying to activate. But Darius had trained for this. Had exposed himself to contact hundreds of times. His mind pushed through the fear, his hands securing the ball even as he slid across the floor.
Game Time: 4:11
Objective Progress: 1/2 Turnovers Forced
He popped up immediately and drove the other direction in transition. One Westridge defender had gotten back. Darius attacked him directly, his speed forcing the defender into backpedal mode.
At fifteen feet, Darius pulled up for a jumper. The defender jumped to contest. Darius released it over his outstretched hand.
Perfect rotation. High arc.
Swish.
Lincoln Heights 24, Westridge Prep 8.
Game Time: 3:59
Objective Progress: 8/15 Points | Shooting: 4/4 (100%)
The gymnasium exploded. Students were jumping up and down. The small Lincoln Heights cheering section was going absolutely crazy. Even the players on the bench were on their feet, screaming encouragement.
In the stands, Khalil felt something twist in his chest. Not jealousy exactly. More like... disbelief. He was watching someone who should be on first string, who was clearly talented enough to contribute immediately, stuck on the second string because of roster mathematics and timing.
How is he not up here with us? Khalil thought, the question more urgent now than it had been during practice. He's better than half our rotation players. Better than some of our starters in certain ways.
Coach Martinez sat in the stands with his arms crossed, but his expression had shifted. The analytical evaluation was still there, but underneath it was something that looked like satisfaction. Like watching a plan come together exactly as intended.
Game Time: 3:42
Westridge tried to respond, their point guard hitting a tough contested jumper to stop the run momentarily.
Lincoln Heights 24, Westridge Prep 10.
But Darius came right back. He drove into the paint again—his body tense but functional as he navigated through contact—and kicked to Jerome rolling to the basket. Jerome caught it and finished with a dunk.
Lincoln Heights 26, Westridge Prep 10.
Game Time: 3:21
Objective Progress: 7/8 Assists
Sixteen-point lead. Westridge called another timeout.
As both teams walked to their benches, Darius glanced up at the stands one more time. The first string was still watching intently, their focus absolute. Coach Martinez's eyes met his, and something passed between them. Not quite approval. More like acknowledgment.
I see what you're doing. Keep going.
Coach Williams gathered the second string in the huddle. "That's Elite Eight basketball right there. That's how we're supposed to play. Keep it up."
But Darius barely heard him. His mind was elsewhere, his eyes tracking the first string players in the stands even as Coach talked. He could see them evaluating, analyzing, comparing what they were watching to their own performances.
Watch, Darius thought, his internal voice carrying an edge that was part determination and part challenge. Watch me and my teammates come for every single one of your spots. Watch us prove we belong up there.
The timeout ended. As the team started to break the huddle, Darius stood and looked directly at Coach Martinez in the stands. Their eyes met again, and this time Darius smiled. Not friendly. Not casual. Competitive. Assured.
Martinez smiled back—a small, barely-there expression that said he understood exactly what Darius was communicating.
Game on.
Game Time: 3:00
The second unit came in for a brief rotation, but the energy didn't drop. If anything, it intensified. Devon, who'd replaced Marcus at power forward, immediately set a crushing screen that freed Connor for an open three. Connor drained it.
Lincoln Heights 29, Westridge Prep 10.
Game Time: 2:43
The bench players who'd struggled with selfishness in earlier games were playing differently now. The culture Darius had helped create had taken root. Passes came quick and purposeful. Screens were set with intention. Defense was played with collective commitment.
Marcus Thompson watched from the stands as Connor drove baseline and kicked to Devon for an easy layup. "The whole second string is playing well. It's not just Kingsley."
"That's what real leadership looks like," Terrell responded. "He makes everyone around him better."
Game Time: 2:19
Coach Martinez leaned forward slightly, his analytical mind cataloging everything. Connor's improved decision-making. Jerome's defensive positioning. Ty's cutting without the ball. Even the bench players who'd subbed in were executing at a higher level than they had just weeks ago.
This wasn't accident. This was culture. And culture didn't build itself.
Game Time: 2:01
Connor brought the ball up after Darius subbed back in during a dead ball. He immediately looked for Darius spotting up on the left wing. The pass came clean. Darius caught it, his defender closing out hard.
Darius shot-faked, getting the defender in the air, then took one dribble right and pulled up for a mid-range jumper.
Swish.
Lincoln Heights 31, Westridge Prep 12.
Game Time: 1:47
Objective Progress: 10/15 Points | Shooting: 5/5 (100%)
Westridge was starting to break now. Their defensive rotations were late. Their offensive sets were rushed. The sixteen-point deficit had become nineteen, and it felt like it could become thirty any moment.
Game Time: 1:28
Their shooting guard tried to create something individually, driving hard into the paint. But Darius rotated from the weak side, his defensive instincts—honed through months of studying film and running drills—putting him in perfect position.
The shooting guard went up for a layup. Darius jumped and blocked it cleanly, his timing impeccable. The ball flew out of bounds, but the message was clear.
Not today.
The crowd went absolutely insane. Students were losing their minds. The home bench was standing and screaming. Even some of the Westridge parents were shaking their heads in acknowledgment of the defensive play.
In the stands, Khalil stood up and clapped once, hard. That block was special. That block was first-string caliber.
Game Time: 1:09
Lincoln Heights inbounded after the play. Darius brought it up and immediately attacked off the dribble. His first step got him past his defender. His second step got him into the paint. Westridge's center stepped up to contest.
Darius jumped—his body tensing but pushing through—and kicked it to Connor in the corner. Connor shot the three without hesitation.
Swish.
Lincoln Heights 34, Westridge Prep 12.
Game Time: 0:54
Objective Progress: 8/8 Assists (COMPLETE)
Twenty-two-point lead. The game was essentially over, but Darius wasn't easing up. Neither were his teammates. This was about more than just beating Westridge. This was about sending a message to everyone watching.
Game Time: 0:37
Westridge scored quickly, hitting a three-pointer to cut into the massive deficit slightly.
Lincoln Heights 34, Westridge Prep 15.
But Darius brought it right back. He drove into the paint one more time, his body navigating through contact that would have frozen him six months ago. He rose up for a floater that kissed off the glass.
Good.
Lincoln Heights 36, Westridge Prep 15.
Game Time: 0:19
Objective Progress: 12/15 Points | Shooting: 6/6 (100%)
The final seconds of the quarter ticked down. Westridge tried one last possession, but Connor forced a steal and took it coast to coast for a layup as the buzzer sounded.
End of First Quarter: Lincoln Heights 38, Westridge Prep 15
Twenty-three-point lead. Complete domination.
Darius's statline after one quarter:
12 points on 6/6 shooting (100%) 8 assists 1 block 1 steal 0 turnovers
As both teams walked to their benches, the gymnasium was still buzzing with energy. The crowd had witnessed something special. Not just a good performance. A statement.
Darius walked past the first string section in the stands, his face showing no emotion now. No smile. No acknowledgment. Just focus.
But inside, his message was clear:
This is what you're missing. This is what's waiting on second string. This is why the roster cap is the only thing keeping me off first team.
And judging by the expressions on the first string players' faces, they'd received the message loud and clear.