Montage — 48 Hours Later
The internet didn't rest.
It just changed targets.
Now the punchline had a name: Thea Cruz.
Every scroll was the same sound — her fall, slowed, remixed, captioned, meme-ified.
A DJ in Quezon City dropped a "Crossover Remix."
Vendors near MOA sold shirts that read BIG ENERGY BROKE MY KNEES.
Even jeepney drivers joked: "Careful ka, baka ma-Thea ka."
For three days, her dignity was public property.
Flowstate Dorm — Morning
Thea sat cross-legged on her bed, screen glow flickering across her face.
Each ping was another laugh.
Renz leaned on the doorframe, two paper cups of instant coffee in hand.
Renz: "You're trending again."
Thea: "I'm tired."
Renz: "Memes die fast."
Thea: "Not when you're the meme."
Outside, kids on the campus court reenacted the move.
Every laugh bounced through the window.
Renz: "They're tagging Flowstate now."
Thea: "We didn't even play."
Renz: "Doesn't matter. The algorithm says we did."
He hesitated.
Renz: "Coach Alvarez wants silence. But silence looks guilty online."
Thea: "Then maybe we stop being silent."
BDE Headquarters — Makati Noon
Big D Baskin paced between ring lights and whiteboards.
Every sentence sounded like an ad.
Big D: "We don't manage scandals — we monetize momentum!
Philippines loves drama? Good!
Give 'em a court, a camera, and a countdown!"
Reporters nodded like disciples.
Rico hunched in a corner, hood up, scrolling through edits of Thea's fall.
One clip lingered — her getting up again.
Caption: "Still standing > still winning."
He saved it. Didn't know why.
Big D: "Tomorrow we drop the matchup — Flowstate vs Big Energy.
One game, one night, fifty K worth of drip and a million views."
Applause.
Rico just stared at the floor.
Cubao — Flowstate Gym Afternoon
The gym smelled of dust and discipline.
A single fan turned overhead.
Bornok scrolled through memes, laughing until Thea grabbed the phone.
Thea: "You think it's funny?"
Bornok: "It's just the internet, manager."
Thea: "It's my face."
Renz stepped between them.
Renz: "Then we give them something better to post."
Coach Alvarez looked up from his clipboard.
His voice cut through the heat — steady, low.
Coach Alvarez: "You planning to join that circus?"
Renz: "We play our way."
Coach Alvarez: "They're using you."
Thea: "Then we use them back."
The coach's eyes narrowed.
Coach Alvarez: "You sure you want the lights again?"
Thea: "This time they'll see me standing."
He didn't smile, but a corner of his jaw softened.
That was approval, in his language.
BDE Broadcast — Nationwide Evening
Gold backdrop.
Roaring crowd.
Big D at center stage, mic high like a trophy.
Big D: "CALLIN' ALL HOOPERS OF THE PHILIPPINES!
From Cebu to Cubao, from barangay courts to college kings — if you got game, we got the stage!"
Screens across Manila lit up with his grin.
Big D: "The Manila Showcase!
Winner gets fifty grand and a global contract!
This ain't about talkin' trash — it's about provin' you can cash that talk!"
Confetti fell.
Rico watched from backstage, sick at the sound of applause.
Later — Flowstate Gym
Thea replayed the broadcast on mute.
Big D's grin froze mid-sentence.
Thea: "He doesn't even know who we are."
Renz: "He will."
Coach Alvarez set his clipboard down.
Coach Alvarez: "So we're really doing this?"
Teo: "We don't owe him a show.
But we owe ourselves a game."
Bornok cracked his neck.
Mario tightened his laces.
Thea folded the viral shirt left on her chair — BIG ENERGY BROKE MY KNEES — and stuffed it into her bag.
Thea: "Fine. Let's rewrite the meme."
Manila Bay — Night
Billboards flashed Big D's smile across the skyline.
News anchors called him "the American Showman."
But under the pier lights of Cubao, Flowstate's court glowed dim and alive.
No cameras. No crowd.
Only rhythm.
Teo caught the rebound, passed to Renz, who sank the shot clean.
Thea watched from the sideline, arms crossed, the echo steady and sure.
Not noise.
Sound.
The kind Coach Alvarez believed in.
END OF PART III — "The Challenge"
(Next — Part IV: "The Showcase.")