(Renz vs Riki — The Bridge Showdown)
Under the Bridge
The night was all rhythm — bass shaking concrete, light cutting through dust.
Sweat and street smoke hung heavy in the air.
Manila was wide awake.
Riki Dela Peña stood at mid-court, megaphone hanging off his neck.
Bong counted bills beside him; Thea Cruz wrote on a clipboard without looking up.
Teo tightened a rim bolt like he didn't trust the world to hold it.
Riki called out, "Last call for sign-ups! Twelve teams — no crybabies!"
Bong added, "And no IOUs, this isn't a sari-sari store!"
Laughter from the crowd.
That's when the headlights hit the wall.
A delivery truck rolled to a stop by the depot.
Three silhouettes climbed down.
Renz "Air" Alonzo — eyes alert, shoulders loose.
Bornok Rivera — tank built from hauling nets.
Mario "Fishball" Dela Cruz — half-asleep, half-excited, bag of street food in hand.
They didn't belong, but they didn't care.
Renz walked in like he'd been here before.
The sound caught him first — that beat.
The rhythm he'd been chasing since Pangasinan.
The Callout
Riki noticed them instantly.
"Yo, new guys! You looking for parking or a beating?"
Renz smirked. "You the guy charging rent for air?"
Crowd laughed.
Bong whistled. "We got another comedian!"
Thea didn't look up. "We're full on those."
Riki grinned. "You hoop?"
Renz: "I breathe. Sometimes that includes dunking."
"500 pesos entry," Riki said.
Renz: "How about 0 if I beat you one-on-one?"
Riki: "Deal. You lose, you owe double."
Bong yelled, "WE GOT A SIDE QUEST!"
Crowd swarmed closer.
Phones up. Beat louder.
Tip-Off
Ball check.
Riki first.
Quick cross, half-spin, floater. Swish.
1 – 0 Riki.
Renz answered.
One bounce, rise, right-hand slam.
1 – 1.
The rim rattled, and someone yelled, "HE BROUGHT HIS OWN GRAVITY!"
Riki smiled. "You can jump."
Renz: "I can land too."
The Beat Takes Hold
The DJ switched tracks — heavy drums, grimy loop.
Renz started syncing.
Every dribble matched the rhythm, every move flowed clean.
Drive, stutter, crossover — finish.
2 – 1 Renz.
Riki: "You play with music in your head?"
Renz: "You don't?"
Trading Buckets
Riki countered — step-back jumper. Net. 2 – 2.
Renz slipped baseline, scooped a layup. 3 – 2.
Riki's fake-spin floater tied it again. 3 – 3.
They went back and forth until the air itself pulsed.
Bong's voice broke. "THIS IS STREETBALL CINEMA!"
Teo muttered, "This is paperwork waiting to happen."
Thea scribbled, calm. "Score's 9–9. Two more and we're broke."
Final Possession
Riki ball.
He crossed left, planted hard, midrange jumper. Swish.
10 – 9.
Renz took the inbound, body low, heartbeat syncing to the bass.
One dribble, two steps — he rose for a dunk—
but Riki met him mid-air, body first, no foul.
Ball slipped.
Hit rim.
Bounced away.
Crowd gasped.
Renz caught his breath, eyes wide.
Riki grabbed the loose ball, stepped back, jumper.
Net.
11 – 9. Game.
Bridge erupted.
Cheers, bottles, phones flashing.
Aftermath
Renz leaned on his knees, breath sharp.
Riki, grinning through sweat, tossed the ball aside.
"So... 1,000 pesos, right?"
Renz blinked. "1,000?"
"You lost, remember? Double the fee."
Renz laughed, shaking his head. "You serious?"
Riki: "Always. Ask my unpaid interns."
Bong: "That's us."
Bornok stepped forward. "Bro, he just played you to the wire."
Riki shrugged. "Close games still have rent."
Renz smirked, eyes glinting.
"Fine. But next time, I'm collecting interest."
Riki extended a hand.
Renz hesitated, then gripped it tight.
Crowd cheered again.
Bong yelled, "CONGRATULATIONS! A NEW RIVAL APPEARS!"
Teo: "Don't name the episode out loud."
Thea finally looked up. "Keep the bracket clean, boys. You're both playing tonight."
Riki blinked. "He's in?"
Thea: "He's paid — technically."
Renz: "Guess that's interest in advance."
Riki grinned. "Welcome to the bridge, Airboy."
Renz: "Don't call me that."
"Too late," Riki said. "Has a nice ring."
Final Score: Riki 11 – Renz 9
End of Chapter 3 — "When Rhythms Collide."
(Next: Chapter 4 — Concrete Beats: Round 1.)