The referee’s whistle screeched through the air of the Titan’s Maw Arena, announcing the beginning of the war between Blacklist and the Crimson Talon, but down on the court, it wasn’t a ga anymore.
It was just a slaughter.
The Crimson Talons walked in, hoping Nash was just so overhyped dia darling, or would get his dong so big it would be stuck in his zipper. Man, were they dumb, because Nash was half of the problem tonight.
Blacklist didn’t even need to bust out their Zone State tonight. Nash’s passive skills, Black Link choking off passes, Echo Step zipping the girls around like rockets, were enough to turn this into pure hell for the Talons.
Jaz? Absolute monster. That new fat contract of hers, two point five million credits, had her playing like a pissed-off goddess. She leaped for a rebound, her huge tits bouncing under her jersey, then sent Kruger, their giant center, flying with a hip check so hard one could swear they heard his ribs crack.
She dunked one-handed, rattling the whole damn hoop. Kruger, the dude who’d been running his mouth all week about how he’d wreck Blacklist, was flat on his back, gasping like a fish.
"Hmm... did I pick the wrong religion?" the Talons’ coach groaned, rubbing his face like he had a migraine. Next to him, Lena Voss, his assistant, pushed up her glasses with shaky fingers. All her fancy scouting reports? Worthless. Nash wasn’t even running hard, just strolling around, flicking no-look passes like he was bored.
Nia was a nightmare on defense, stealing balls mid-air. Alicia? Couldn’t miss. Every ti Nash passed to her, she drained another three-pointer, her tits bouncing under that tight, no-bra jersey with every jump. The Talons were getting steamrolled, their hopes crushed under Blacklist’s attack.
At the sidelines, Victoria and Dahlia watched like it was a movie. Victoria stood there all cool, sunglasses hiding her eyes, but there it was, that tiny smirk.
"Isn’t it beautiful, Dahlia?" Victoria murmured. "A perfect annihilation, without any opposition. People like a disputed match, but I enjoy crushing my opponent, without giving them a chance to breathe."
Dahlia hugged her clipboard to her chest, impressed.
"I have to admit... they’re nothing like before, Ma’am. It seems like the match against the Raptors has changed their mindset."
Victoria nodded slowly, watching Nash.
"Yes. And it would be a very fitting phase 2... if we can achieve phase 1, that is."
Dahlia glanced at her, curious, but Victoria didn’t explain. Typical.
anwhile, the crowd was losing its mind, chanting Nash’s na. But the Blacklist’s bench? Dead silent. Jinzo sat there like a ghost, sweat dripping off his greasy hair, eyes glued to the floor. Had to be torture, watching his team dominate without him.
The worst part? Seeing how tight-knit they were now. During a tiout, Nia and Alicia subbed out laughing, not even mad. Victoria, who usually acted like an ice queen unless you were Nash, actually said sothing to them. They looked... happy. Like a real team.
Jinzo watched Jaz high-five Nash, grinning like she had won the world. anwhile, he was just a paycheck warr. A nobody. His whole "alpha" act? Dust.
Final score: Crimson Talons 74 – Blacklist 112.
Ga over. No, scratch that, massacre over. Victoria wanted to give a warning to the league? There it was.
In the long hallway, fans were already screaming their lungs out, saying Blacklist was definitely gonna crush the competition this season. You could hear them through the walls, arguing with fans on the other side.
Inside the locker room, though? Total ss. Jinzo walked in last, his eyes scanning the room. No Nash, no girls, and most importantly, no Jaz. His Jaz. His stomach twisted. There was only one place they could be.
The shower room.
His fists clenched so tight they trembled. The anger overflowed; he didn’t even think, just stord straight for the showers. Two NPCs tried to stop him, waving their hands like idiots. Jinzo didn’t slow down. He shoved past them, not caring if they fell, and entered the communal showers.
The sound of water hitting tile got louder, it didn’t take long to find the occupied shower head. The air was thick with steam, warm and sticky, slling like cheap shampoo and sothing way sweatier.
Squelch. Plap. Haaah.
Nash was back against the wall, Alicia straddling him, her legs locked around his waist like a damn vise. Water poured over them, making her skin shine. She was naked, obviously, and Nash was going at her like a man starving, his big hands digging into her hips, his mouth latched onto her tits like he was trying to suck the life out of her.
The noise? Disgusting, wet, loud. Like two animals in the throes of passion. Alicia’s head was thrown back, her orange twintails plastered to her skin, her moans and groans were loud. She hadn’t even noticed Jinzo, standing there.
And then there were Nia and Jaz, just chilling, totally naked, waiting their turn to do Nash.
Jinzo’s brain short-circuited.
Nia scrambled back the second she saw him, grabbing a towel and pressing it against her chest.
"Are you fucking blind?!" she shrieked. "Get the hell out!"
Jaz didn’t bother covering up. She stepped right in front of Jinzo. Her huge tits swayed as she moved, water sliding down her stomach. She blocked his view completely.
"The shower’s occupied," she snapped, shoving him back with one hand before slamming the door in his face. "Go jerk off sowhere else, creep."
The lock clicked.
Jinzo stood there, jaw clenched so tight he could’ve cracked his teeth. All kind of emotion were twirling inside him. Humiliation, jealousy, rage, whatever.
This wasn’t how things used to be. Before, the girls didn’t care who walked in on them. They’d laugh it off, maybe toss a bored remark. Now? Now they acted like they belonged to Nash and Nash alone. Like no one else was allowed to even look.
Since when was Jaz so aggressive toward him?
It made him want to punch a hole in the wall.
A few days passed, but the bad air in Hangar 47 hadn’t cleared up at all. You could still feel the tension on the other side of the group.
Jinzo was wandering through the storage area, his mind all over the place, when suddenly, voices.
He froze mid-step, pressing himself against the wall like so kinda spy.
Down the hall, Mac was practically breathing down Nash’s neck, hands twitching like he was holding invisible cards.
"C’mon, Nash," he whined, sounding like a kicked dog. "We used to be cool, right? Now you’ve got all the girls, Alicia, Nia, Jaz... hogging every damn one. Share the pussies, bto. Just let have one for a night. We’re teammates, aren’t we?"
Nash stopped walking. Just like that. He turned, gym bag slung over his shoulder, and looked at Mac like he was watching a sad cody sketch. He didn’t even get mad, just let out this easy laugh, like Mac was a dumb kid asking for the most stupid thing.
"You’re funny, you know that?" Nash said, patting Mac’s arm like he was humoring a toddler. "The girls aren’t so trading cards, dude. Try actually playing well instead of begging for scraps."
Mac’s face twisted.
"Aaaah, don’t be a dick!" he snapped, scrambling after Nash as he started walking again. But Nash didn’t even glance back, opening the exit doors like Mac wasn’t worth the air he breathed.
Outside, Amara was leaning against a beat-up sedan, arms crossed, one foot tapping impatiently against the concrete. She had that look, the one that said she was two seconds from breaking soone’s nose, but once she saw Nash, her face brightened.
Mac stumbled to a stop, blinking at her like she’d materialized out of thin air.
Amara’s lip curled.
"The hell are you staring at, creep?"
Mac, being the genius he was, pointed at her like she was a nu item.
"She’s not one of yours main girls, right? So lem do her!"
Amara’s breath hitched. She moved so fast it was almost scary. She stepped forward, eyes burning, and Mac actually flinched back.
"The fuck you said, shitstain?" she hissed. "I’ll kick your fucking teeth in, faggot!"
Mac looked like he’d been slapped. Nash slid between them smoothly, one hand settling on Amara’s waist, not restraining, just calming.
"Chill, babe. He’s not worth it."
The second his fingers brushed her hip, Amara’s whole posture changed. Her hand slid down his jacket sleeve, her glare lting into sothing... different.
Bye the anger, hello the sensuality.
"Whatever," she muttered, but the way she looked at Nash? Yeah, that wasn’t anger anymore.
Nash smirked, leaning in just enough to make her breath hitch.
"Good girl."
Amara rolled her eyes, but the way her fingers curled into his sleeve said everything.
Then Nash tossed the car keys in his palm, looking at the Sedan she was leaning on.
"So. You still wanna go shopping?"
Amara blinked.
"Wait... this is yours?"
Nash shrugged.
"Just loaned it, to get used to driving. Getting my license soon."
Her face lit up like fireworks. No joke, she actually squealed, launching herself at him so hard he staggered back laughing.
"Oh my god, Nash! That’s fucking aweso!" She clung to his neck, peppering his face with kisses. "I knew you were the best, but damn—"
Nash caught her by the waist, spinning her once before setting her down.
"Yeah, yeah. Now get in before I change my mind."
Amara practically bounced into the passenger seat, still grinning like a lunatic. Nash shut her door with a shake of his head, then slid behind the wheel, starting the engine.
Amara gave one last look at Mac, still gaping like a stranded fish in the parking lot.
"See that?" she called, sweet as poison. "That’s why my Nash is a real man, and you’re just a sad little bitch. Enjoy the walk, loser."
The tires screeched as they peeled out, leaving Mac choking on their dust.
Later that night, in a diner that wasn’t exactly the worst but definitely not the best, the kind with sticky floors and neon signs that flickered like dying insects, two guys sat in a corner booth. The greenish light from the overhead lamp made everything look kinda sickly, like old milk.
Mac slumped against the cracked vinyl seat, pushing his plate away. The burger was cold, the fries limp. He didn’t care.
"Seriously," he grumbled, slamming his glass down so hard the ice rattled. "Why are we still here? Nash owns the team now. We’re just... there. Like idiots watching his empire. Why stick around to watch his stupid fan club cheer for him?"
Across from him, Jinzo leaned forward. His yellow hair fell over his eyes, but you could still see that look, the one that could sll problem.
"Because if we leave," Jinzo hissed. "Nash wins forever. This isn’t about the sport anymore, Mac. It’s about making him pay." His fingers tapped the table, restless. "If we quit, we lose our shot. We lose the chance to watch him, learn his weak spots, find the exact mont to rip him apart." His voice dropped even lower. "I’m gonna make him beg, Mac. We stay close. We wait. And then we wreck him from the inside. You’re not leaving. Got it?"
Mac exhaled, shoulders sinking. Jinzo’s obsession was heavy, like a rock tied to his chest.
But here’s the thing, they weren’t alone.
In the booth right next to theirs, a chair scraped against the floor, loud in the quiet diner. Then footsteps.
They looked up just as the person stopped at their table.
"Hm, excuse . Can I have a minute?"
Under the flickering neon, her blonde hair was ssy, like she hadn’t brushed it in a while. Her eyes were dark blue and she slled like cherry lip balm and old diner air.
It was Saya.
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