The final horn sounded, and for a second, the entire arena felt like it was collapsing. The air was sucked out, like soone punched you in the gut, then boom.
The explosion.
The noise was brutal, like standing next to a jet engine. Rust flaked from the ceiling beams overhead, dusting people’s heads as they scread. Confetti cannons blasted silver and black paper into the air, mixing with the sweat and stink of eighteen thousand people losing their damn minds.
Down in the Underground section, where people fought just to afford stale bread, Nash’s win wasn’t just a ga. It was a goddamn coronation.
He was him.
People stood on their seats, bare fists punching the air, faces sared with his number in cheap paint.
"BLAZE! BLAZE! BLAZE!"
The chant shook the whole damn building. Security guards strained against the tide of fans trying to climb the barriers. This wasn’t just one match, it was proof that even in this ugly, dog-eat-dog world, sheer skill and balls could still drag you up from the dirt.
Up in their tower, the three n in fancy suits were really quiet. The bald one with the shiny gold watch reached over and slapped the big screen off with a grunt.
"Fucking hell," he muttered, spinning his empty whiskey glass between thick fingers.
The silver-haired guy leaned back in his leather chair, the material groaning under his weight. His grin was wide enough to split his face.
"What did I say?! Told you!" he said, tapping the table. "That kid just flipped the Underground on its ass."
The youngest of them, who had been scrolling his phone bored as hell half an hour ago, was now practically jumping on his seat.
"Twelve percent?" He laughed. "Screw that. I want in on everything he touches. Energy drinks, sneakers, protein bars, hell, I’ll slap his face on bottled sewer water if he lets . You saw that ga. People will fucking kill each other just to own anything with ’Blaze’ on it."
The bald guy chuckled, but his hand shook a little when he took a deep gulp of his drink.
"Blank check," he muttered, staring at the ice cubes. "That’s what it’ll take. I’ll throw fists with the whole damn board tomorrow just to own a piece of his na." He grinned, all teeth. "Old-school sweat money isn’t dead."
In Section 112, Lina and Sarra were a complete ss, but like the happiest kind of ss one could imagine. They were hugging each other so tight it looked like they might break ribs, or that Sarra’s pillows would absorb Lina, jumping up and down like little kids who just got told Christmas ca early.
Their screaming was so loud they sounded like dying seagulls by the end of it.
anwhile, a few sections over, Amara was standing on her seat like a crazy person, waving her Nash fan, like it was so kind of war flag.
Her eyes were wild, like a dog into espresso beans, and she was flipping off the court with both middle fingers while screaming the kind of words that would make a grandma faint.
In their apartnt, Zayela slowly slid down the side of the couch until her knees hit the carpet. She hugged her legs tight, shoulders shaking like she was freezing, except she was just crying. Happy crying, though. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, saring tears everywhere, but she was smiling.
"Nash..." she whispered, voice all soft and wrecked. "You’re really amazing."
Back in the arena, everyone else was losing their damn minds, but in so spots, people were frozen.
Drex was sitting alone, hood pulled so far down his face you could only see his mouth, and even that looked pissed. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets like he was trying to disappear into them.
"Fucking golden boy..." he muttered. "Always the hero. Always."
The crowd was chanting "BLAZE! BLAZE!" so loud it felt like soone was hitting him in the head with it, and his stomach twisted like he might puke.
Near the exit tunnel, things were worse. Roam was already up, grabbing his leather jacket so hard it made this awful ripping sound like he almost tore it.
"We’re leaving. Now," he spat, voice shaking like he was about to explode, or cry. "This entire fucking place is a joke."
Except he didn’t leave. He just stood there, stuck like an idiot, because Saya hadn’t moved. She was just staring at the court, face blank, but you could tell exactly what she was seeing: Jaz, Nia, and Alicia catching their breath, all sweaty and triumphant. The girls who took her spot. The life she could’ve had.
She’d dumped Nash when he was nobody. Now he was everything, making everyone around him shine like damn stars.
They could look at the Raptors and say they had beaten them, anwhile, the Raptors would look at her and say she was nothing but their cum dumpster.
Roam shifted next to her, guilty all over his stupid face. Ever since that night underground, he never argued with her, and right now, Nash had just humiliated him all over again.
Saya didn’t even glance at him. She just kept staring, dead silent.
Over at Baby-Boom’s building, it was very rose, and very tense.
"
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