Saim, bless his heart, kind of shuffled into position, setting a screen on Ahsan that looked about as solid as a wet paper bag. Salman tried to weave around it, praying for a tiny sliver of space to unch a jump shot.

  But even as he moved, a weird feeling crept up his spine, like when you think you’re alone in your room and then you hear a floorboard creak. He could feel James moving, even if he couldn't quite see him directly. It was like that horror movie trope where the monster is always just out of frame, you know? Silent, sneaky, a total predator vibe. Creepy and effective.

  Salman went for it, pulling up for a mid-range jumper – his bread and butter, usually. He jumped, released the ball, feeling somewhat confident for like, half a second. Then, BAM! Out of the corner of his eye, blur of motion. Fast doesn't even cover it. Zoom fast.

  James. Of course, it was James.

  Dude had covered the ground in a blink, his speed defying physics or something. He unched himself again, like a human projectile locked onto the basketball. King’s Palm – whatever that even was – doing its thing, completely invisible but seriously OP.

  Before Salman could even process the "oh no" moment fshing in his brain, James's hand was there. Not even a block attempt, not a tap, nothin' messy. Just straight-up interception. Clean as a whistle. Ruthless as a breakup text over Insta. Soul-crushing? Absolutely. You could practically hear Salman’s basketball dreams shattering into a million pieces.

  Yoink! The ball was snatched right out of the air, leaving Salman’s hands feeling emptier than a politician's promises. His jump shot attempt just…poof… vanished into thin air, like a Snapchat message you wish you hadn't sent. He nded all clunky, stumbling like he’d forgotten how to walk, his face looking like a puppy who just realized belly rubs were over. Total despair face.

  "AGAIN?!" Lut practically yelled from the Motijheel bench, throwing his hands up in a dramatic "WTF" gesture. "Seriously?! Is this guy even human?! How is that even legal?!" You could hear the pure, unadulterated frustration in his voice.

  Anderson just shook his head slowly, mumbling under his breath, like he was trying to figure out a cryptic video. "It's... it's like he's psychic or something. He knows what we’re gonna do before we even know what we’re gonna do. This is some 'Minority Report' level stuff." The dude was clearly freaked out.

  Nikhil, Mr. Practicality himself – even he was starting to crack. His usual "just the facts, ma'am" vibe was getting seriously challenged. He just grunted, like he was trying to push out a philosophical thought that was stuck. "Doesn't matter how he's doing it," he mumbled, "Matters that he is doing it. We need to… adapt."

  But even he sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else. Adapt to what, exactly? Superpowers? How do you draw up a py for "teleportation defense"? Good luck with that game pn. (He was insanely fast that why they are calling it teleportation.)