Repced by this growing sense of unease, this creeping apprehension that was turning into something uncomfortably close to… fear. They'd come to Motijheel expecting an easy win, a casual victory p. Now? Now they were staring into the abyss.

  Staring into the face of something they couldn't comprehend, something that threatened to completely shatter their dominance, rewrite the rulebook, and maybe even redefine what was possible on a basketball court. And it all started with Three. Impossible.

  Three-pointers. Launched by a quiet, confident newcomer named James. The guy they'd completely underestimated.

  Big mistake. Huge.

  Okay, but for real, you could cut the tension in the air with a butter knife this time. The ball was back in James' hands, but Motijheel? Nah, they were not about to let him get another easy bucket. Zero chance.

  Salman, their point guard who thought he was all that and a bag of chips, and Saim, the center who was huge but kinda quiet, gave each other that look. You know the one. It was like they were telepathically communicating, plotting something sneaky.

  Ahsan, bless his heart, passed the ball back to James again. Immediately, Salman and Saim were on the move with a whole new level of 'oh crap, we gotta fix this' energy. They were like animals backed into a corner, all that swagger from before just poofing into thin air, repced by pure desperation to get back in the game.

  They started charging towards James, going for a full-on double team blitz. Their faces? Grim. Like, 'we're about to end this dude's whole career' grim.

  "Yo, don't even let him think about shooting!" Salman screamed, his voice all tight and strained like he was about to pop a blood vessel. He was full-on sprinting now, arms pumping like pistons, trying to cover ground faster than a cheetah on Red Bull.

  Saim, who you wouldn't expect to be speedy considering his size, was actually booking it across the court.

  His feet were pounding the floor like thunder, each step echoing. His eyes were locked ser-focused on James and the ball, like if he blinked, James would just vanish or something. "Block him! Dude, block him right now!" Saim bellowed, his voice surprisingly loud for the usually quiet giant.

  They were coming in hot, closing the distance faster than you can say "bet." Their mission was crystal clear: suffocate James, not give him an inch of space, and shut down this insane shooting streak before it completely nuked their team's morale. Like, if he hit another one, they might as well just forfeit and go home.

  But James, watching these two bruisers barrel towards him, felt... weirdly chill.

  It wasn't fear, definitely not anxiety. It was... total calm. Like, zen master levels of calm.

  Almost like he was watching this whole thing py out on TV and wasn't actually involved. As Salman and Saim got closer and closer, something in his head just shifted. At first, it was super subtle, like the edges of his vision were just getting a little fuzzy.

  Then, BAM! It got way more intense, way faster than he expected.

  And then, out of nowhere, it was like someone hit the slow-mo button on reality. Seriously, everything just decided to take a chill pill and slow. way. down.