"Joseph."
Joseph had easily shaken Robin after rounding a corner with no caras and entering the Speed State. The headache still hit him like a an axe splitting was striking his skull and there was no way to lessen the cooldown or increase the duration of about two minutes unless he magically found more nanites. Days later, he sold the jerseys online with Nova's help, ensuring he wasn't tracked. Seven grand for so ga-worn basketball jerseys? Not bad at all.
"Hey. Class ended," Barbara said.
"My bad. Thanks for telling ."
With the inco from his extracurricular activities, he started going to the gym, attending school more regularly, and actually focusing on his grades. Nova spent an hour every night combing the internet, absorbing information like an encyclopedia. Joseph could call on it for any academic question, but he didn't rely on it too much—his enhanced cognition and newfound study ti made learning easy.
"At least it's better than you sleeping every day."
Barbara seed to be the only one who noticed his change. That made sense—sitting next to him for an hour every day would do that.
"Haha. I have more ti now. Thanks for covering for so far. Next week, leave the lab to ."
"If you insist. I'll still look over it before you submit, though."
"Sure," Joseph said as he left class, intending to wander around aimlessly.
"Hey, son. How tall are you? Do you ball?" an older man's voice called out.
Joseph turned to see a portly, bald black man looking right at him.
"Yeah, I'm talking to you."
"Oh, I'm 6'3" last I checked, haha. No, I don't play basketball. Didn't have much ti for it before."
With Nova enhancing him, he'd grown three inches in just a few months. And he packed on so muscle to go with his fra.
"Follow , son. It's tryout season, and the Gotham Gargoyles need a center."
Damn. He's not gonna take no for an answer. Sure, why not? I have ti.
**
Joseph finished lacing his shoes. He hadn't brought gym clothes.
Looking around, he took in the twenty-seven guys trying out for fifteen varsity spots. So looked confident, others not so much. The most assured was a guy who had made the team for the past two years. He was good, too—Joseph planned to keep an eye on him, maybe pick up a thing or two.
The coach wasted no ti after warm-ups. Dribbling drills, layups, shooting from different spots. Running, probably to test endurance. They wrapped it up with scrimmages to see how everything ca together. The coach and his assistant took notes on their stereotypical brown clipboards.
**
Swish.
It was almost unfair. No, definitely unfair.
After Nova's work on his body, physical activity felt like second nature. He hadn't played basketball much before, but after observing the others and getting a feel for the ga, it was like he'd been playing his whole life.
His mix of physicality and fast adaptation made him unguardable. He missed his first two shots. After that, he never missed again.
Joseph crossed up his opponent so badly the guy dropped to his knees. The crowd went wild as Joseph finished with a saucy layup.
"Bro, you went crazy. How co I've never seen you before?"
"Ain't you in my class? I didn't know you hooped like that."
"That finish was crazy. Tough as hell."
Joseph was overwheld. He'd never had many friends—never had ti. This feeling, though? It was nice.
Before he could respond, the head coach stepped forward.
"Enough. Move it, punks. Check the coach's office for the varsity roster in two days."
As everyone shuffled out, the coach stopped him. "Not you. You're definitely on the team. Be at practice, understand?"
"Yes, sir."
**
"Co on, boys! Hustle!" The assistant coach barked from the fence separating the bleachers from the track.
Joseph ignored him, finishing his last lap. Only one guy was ahead of him, but Joseph wasn't even trying.
Three weeks into practice, he treated it like a hobby. He decided endurance would be his thing—not just bursts of speed, but the guy who kept going, always.
Like now. The guy ahead had ups and downs in his pace, bursts of speed followed by recovery. Joseph? A flat, steady line. He could keep this up for hours.
"Nice run," he said to Andrew, the guy he let finish first. Andrew paused his water bottle chug to nod. They fist-bumped before settling in to wait for the others.
Joseph's gaze wandered to the field, taking in the track and field team. The football guys were in the weight room, so only the runners remained. Boys and girls. So in baggy gear, others in sports bras and tight shorts, which Joseph appreciated. Who wouldn't?
"I almost joined the track team," he mused.
Jackson, the team's best player, grunted. "Why didn't you? You're fast."
"Got good over the sumr. Before that, I hated running."
Running from Nova's monstrous code every night had that effect.
"The fuck? And you joined a sport where all you do is run?" Andrew asked incredulously.
"Tch. Thought it would work out. I was fast but couldn't run long, so I figured I'd do the sprints. But first day, after warm-ups, the coach made us run laps around the field. Then another around the block."
"Oh, hell no." Andrew made a face.
"Exactly! I wasn't ready for that. Went ho and never went back. Screw that."
"I wouldn't survive that either, man," Jackson shook his head. "I know so guys on the track team. Their workouts are insane. If you got a shot at a scholarship, maybe. Otherwise? No thanks. Basketball's my sport, and I'm sticking to it."
"Right on, man. Yo, Jackson, think scouts will show up this season? It's your last year."
Joseph wasn't thinking about sports as a career. It was already unfair—imagine how much worse it'd be in the future. Why think about that, though? Life was good right now.
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