Chapter 399: Predators on The Loose

It was a little past four in the afternoon in Sector 12 of the Underground, at the Falcons’ gym. From the outside, the building was ugly, just a gray concrete block wedged between a garage and a half-rotten old warehouse. But inside, it was a different story. The hardwood had just been redone, the hoops were dialed in perfectly, and there were benches along the wall for the rare few who came to watch practice.

That day, the bleachers were empty. It was just the team, grinding through it, since nobody really cared about the day-to-day of Breakball teams anymore because in a few days, the big season-ending clash was happening: Blacklist against Colossus. The whole league was waiting for that match with an almost sick excitement, like they wanted to see blood on the court.

Erica was on the edge of the court, tablet pressed to her chest. She was calling out rotations, her eyes moving from one player to another to check nobody was screwing up.

"Again!" she snapped. "Shane, you’re passing too late! Keep the tempo, or the whole thing falls apart!"

Shane grumbled something, clearly annoyed, but obeyed and got back into position. John repositioned himself on the wing, adjusting his glasses, his signature move. Ryan waited his turn under the hoop, arms crossed, breathing calmly while the rest of the group was wearing themselves out. Griffin wasn’t there that day.

Practice kept going like that for a good twenty minutes. The drills kept coming, sweat started sticking the jerseys to their bodies, and nobody was watching the clock. They were locked into their routine, well-oiled.

It was Rain, always standing a little off to the side, who noticed someone at the entrance first. He didn’t say anything, just watched, frowning slightly, which was rare for him since his expression never changed.

It wasn’t until Erica turned her head, instinctively following Rain’s gaze, that the game started to slow down. One by one, the players noticed the still figure near the door.

It was a young guy, leaning casually against the doorframe, hands in the pockets of a blue and yellow tracksuit that probably cost more than the whole gym. His blond hair was perfectly styled despite the daily grind of the Underground.

The guy radiated a theatrical confidence, like a peacock among turkeys. An angel’s face, but a monster’s reputation on the court.

The Phantoms’ small forward, another playoff favorite, Ezra Miracola, "Miracle," known as Mirage.

Silence fell. Everyone stopped, every eye fixed on him.

"Yo," he said with a big smile. "Sorry to drop in like this without a heads up. I was in the area."

Shane was the first to find his voice, mouth hanging open, completely forgetting about the ball in his hands.

"Wait... wait, wait, wait. You’re..." He squinted, like he couldn’t believe it. "You’re Mirage? Like, THE Mirage?"

"In the flesh, in person, and in Timberlands," Mirage confirmed, walking calmly onto the court. He didn’t care at all about protocol or the fact that he was supposed to ask permission to step onto a court that wasn’t his.

John adjusted his glasses, wary. He took a step forward, placing himself between Mirage and the rest of the team.

"Mirage... Okay. And what exactly are you doing here?" 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

"I was bored," Mirage answered with disarming ease. For him, the question didn’t even deserve real thought. "Nothing much going on in our little conference right now. Just me and Snow keeping things at a decent level. The rest is just routine, matches we could play with our eyes closed."

Alex raised an eyebrow, a small mocking smile at the corner of her lips. She was leaning against the wall, watching Mirage with a bored look.

"Nice for Marcus and Baron, that," she tossed out. "I guess they’re just trash to you, huh?"

Mirage let out a small laugh, scratching the back of his neck, a little embarrassed.

"No, no, that’s not what I meant," he said quickly. "They’re solid, both of them, really." He shrugged, like it didn’t matter anymore. "But like, we’ve already beaten each other up so many times that it doesn’t surprise anyone anymore. There’s no challenge left, it got boring. But Snow... he’s different."

Alex tilted her head. She acted like she didn’t care, but deep down, she was curious.

"Different how?" she asked.

Mirage gave a more sincere smile, almost nostalgic, thinking about the guy.

"He’s the only one who still manages to beat me sometimes," he admitted. "With the others, I already know how it’s gonna end before we even start. But with Snow, I’m never a hundred percent sure."

He kept walking to the center of the court, taking his time to look around the gym, the hoops, the players. He’d interrupted practice without even apologizing, and he genuinely could not care less.

"Still special here," he added, almost to himself. "Been a while since I set foot in a place this... authentic. Makes a change from the top level."

Alex, watching the scene with her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, let out a dry little laugh. "’Authentic’ is a polite way of saying it’s a dump, kid."

"Maybe," Mirage admitted with a small smirk, looking Alex over a bit more, glad he’d caught one of those days when she was too inspired to dress properly. "But there’s something real here, still."

Erica stepped forward, tablet still pressed against her. She was regaining her composure, even though she was surprised.

"Alright, it’s nice that you stopped by, but we’ve got practice to finish. You planning on staying long, or did you just come to satisfy your curiosity before taking off?"

Mirage looked at her, amused by her professional tone.

"Chill, girl. I come in peace. And I’ll leave... sooner or later, well, depends."

"On what?" Erica asked.

"On whether you give me a little show. Let’s test if you’ve improved since last time," Mirage said, his eyes landing on Shane, who was still holding the ball, still in shock.

Shane hesitated a second, then, by reflex, passed the ball to Mirage.

The young man caught it with one hand, spun it on his fingertip for a moment before settling back into a normal grip. His gaze swept the court, evaluating everyone’s position.

And suddenly, his casual attitude vanished, replaced by total focus.

"Alright," he said with a wide smile. "Watch this."

He took off without warning, dribbling toward the hoop with disconcerting speed and fluidity. Ryan tried to cut him off, but Mirage went around him with insulting ease, a simple change of pace enough to throw him off balance. John tried to stop him with more physical contact, but Mirage just sidestepped, continuing on his way like John wasn’t even there.

And the whole time, he kept talking, like cutting through an entire defense was the simplest thing in the world.

"Like," he was saying while dribbling and dodging Shane, who was trying to slow him down, "I was just thinking the other day it’d be cool to swing by the old gyms of the Underground, you know, to remember where this sport actually comes from."

Reaching the three-point line, without even slowing down and without even looking at the hoop, he stopped dead. He half-pivoted and let off a completely casual shot, his eyes fixed on Alex instead of the rim.

The ball flew through the air in a perfect arc and dropped clean through the net, without even grazing the rim.

Dead silence fell over the gym. Mirage watched the ball bounce, then shrugged.

"Well... same players, same results. Where’s Griffin at? This is missing some bark."

Shane looked at him, his eye twitching.

"Are you messing with us? Does it amuse you to waste our time just to humiliate us?!"

Mirage turned to him, a genuinely surprised look on his face, like the remark caught him completely off guard.

"Huh? Relax, man, that was just a friendly little tap," he said, shrugging with a sincere smile. "I wasn’t really paying attention, honestly. It’s nothing special, I just wanted to stretch my legs."

"Nothing special?" John repeated, incredulous, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "You just dribbled through our entire defense and hit a three without looking, mid-conversation, and you call that ’nothing special’?"

Some of the players started muttering, torn between admiration and irritation at what looked like pure showing off.

Shane stayed open-mouthed for another second, then turned to John.

"And on top of it he’s mocking us, the asshole," he grumbled.

"Like, he’s doing it on purpose, acting all detached," John added, nervously adjusting his glasses. "It’s insulting, honestly. Why do we keep letting this arrogant jerk in?"

"That’s not arrogance."

The two of them jumped, spinning around at once. Rain was standing right behind them, arms crossed, his presence so shrimpy that neither of them had noticed him approach.

"Since when—" Shane started.

"He’s honest," Rain continued, completely ignoring the question, his gaze fixed on Mirage, who by now had already started a conversation with Alex, completely indifferent to the tension he’d just left behind him. "For us, what he just did is a feat. Something we’d talk about for weeks if one of us managed it even once in our whole career. For him, it’s just an idea that worked. Like always. He doesn’t literally live in the same reality as us."

He watched Mirage a moment longer before lowering his eyes.

"Maybe that’s the real miracle," he added, almost to himself.

Meanwhile, Mirage kept bothering Alex, who hadn’t moved from her bench, still in nothing but her underwear.

"So," Mirage said, a charming smile on his lips, sitting down uninvited right next to her, "you’re the famous former Upper League player. I heard you were terrifying, back in the day."

Alex raised an eyebrow, not exactly impressed.

"You heard, or you looked me up right before coming here so you’d have something to say."

"A bit of both," Mirage admitted without the slightest shame, his smile widening further. "You wouldn’t wanna show me a thing or two sometime? In private, you know."

"I’d mostly like you to get off my bench," Alex answered.

Erica, watching the scene from a bit farther off, rolled her eyes.

"Seriously, are you gonna hit on everyone in this gym before telling us why you’re actually here? You live on the other side of the Underground, in the other conference. You’ve got no reason to be here."

"I can multitask," Mirage answered, unbothered, finally standing up and stretching, before turning a bit more serious. "But alright, fine. The real reason."

He turned to the rest of the group, who had gradually gathered around him, curious despite themselves.

"You must have an idea. The season-ending clash," he said. "Colossus against Blacklist."

The silence fell over the group, and this time it felt heavy, like the kind of tension you get right before a fight. A few of the players just looked at each other, not knowing what to say.

"You’ve already played against him, right?" Mirage asked. He finally sat his ass down on one of the benches, looking like he was actually planning to stay for a bit. "Nash Blaze."

Shane made a face, looking like he’d rather swallow glass than remember this.

"Yeah. We played against him."

"And?"

"And he fucking wrecked us, you piece of shit. You know that already," John spat out, annoyed. Like Blacklist whole thing was that they hadn’t lost a single time yet, so of course... Mirage would know. Even worse, he was fucking there. "Like, totally demolished. We actually thought we had a shot. We spent weeks studying his patterns and shit, and he just..." John paused, struggling to find the words, "I just don’t want to remember."

Ryan, who had been quiet until now, just nodded slowly.

"I’ve never seen a guy move like that. Seriously, never. Dude’s a fucking tank that sprint like a Ferrari."

Mirage didn’t say anything for a second. He had this smile on his face, but you could tell he was actually curious for once, not just trying to be a prick.

"Interesting," he whispered to himself. He turned to Rain with a smug, little grin. "Dude’s a menace... Speaking of which... You should be careful, Rain."

"What?" Rain replied, sounding like he couldn’t care less.

"I ran into Chloé last week," Mirage said, dragging out the words because he loved the drama. "She wouldn’t shut the fuck up about him. For real, she was dying to know how to get in touch with the guy. She had that look in her eyes, you know, the one she gets when she’s obsessed with some new project she wants to dissect."

Rain barely even moved an eyebrow.

"So?"

"Man, it was hilarious," Mirage said, sounding a bit let down that Rain wasn’t reacting. "Does this not do anything for you at all?"

"Nope," Rain answered, totally unfazed.

One of the players behind them whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"This guy has zero fucking shame."

"None at all," another one added, shaking his head.

Alex had been listening from her bench the whole time. She finally chimed in, her voice getting way more serious.

"Honestly, the more I think about it, the more I think we need to take him seriously."

"How so?" Mirage asked. "I saw some of his games, but... The opponents were like shit. How does he compare to us?"

"Honestly... I’d put him in the same league as Seth and Snow," Alex said without even blinking. "Like, literally on the same level."

The group went dead silent. A few players sat up straight, totally shocked that she sounded so sure of herself.

Mirage leaned forward, acting all theatrical, putting a hand over his heart.

"Alexy? My girl, what about me? Why the fuck am I never on your list with those two, huh, Alex?"

Alex looked at him with one eyebrow up, totally not impressed.

"Because you’re just a lazy prick who likes to coast. That’s exactly why you never beat Snow or Seth."

The whole group burst out laughing. Even Mirage let out a little chuckle, feeling a bit stung but not actually mad.

"I played against him," Alex continued, getting serious again. "Against Nash. It wasn’t just that he was strong or fast. It was... it was like there was nothing he couldn’t do. Every single option you had, he’d shut it down once you tried. I’ve never felt this powerless."

She stopped for a second, then added in a lower voice.

"And now, with Baby-Boom fully transferring to his team, it’s not just him anymore. It’s a straight-up team of monsters now. Seriously. We need to get our shit together and level up way fast before the playoffs, or we’re going to get slaughtered just like before."

A deep silence hit the group. Everyone was processing this, and the vibe got way more intense than it had been since Mirage showed up.

Mirage was the one to break the silence, going back to his usual playful self with a pouty look on his face.

"Fine," he said. "You’re interested in him too, huh?" He crossed his arms, pretending to be offended. "I heard he’s a total slut-hunter. A real player. And now even you are talking about him with your eyes sparkling."

Everyone laughed again, and even Alex couldn’t help but smile, shaking her head at how ridiculous Mirage’s fake jealousy was.

Far away, on the other side of the Underground, things were way less chill in the gym the Juggernauts had taken over.

Chloé was standing right next to the coach, gripping a tablet in one hand while her other hand tapped nervously against her thigh. She was pushing the players harder and harder as the minutes ticked by.

"Again!" she barked. "Faster! Start over from the beginning!"

The players, who were absolutely gassed, looked at each other.

"Is she bitchy today or what?" One of them whispered to his buddy.

Nobody had an answer. What the players didn’t see, because they were too busy feeling their legs burn, was that Chloé was checking her phone every two minutes. She was staring at an auction page for tickets to the Blacklist vs. Colossus game. The price was climbing in real-time, digit by digit.

"Fuck!" she hissed, her fingers gripping the screen tight when a new price popped up. "A THOUSAND credits?! For a fucking seat in the back row?!"

She closed the app with a violent flick of her finger. She turned back to the players, the poor sacrificial lambs for her frustration.

"I SAID FASTER!"

On a side court, far away from the noise and chaos of the main session, Snow was alone. He had a ball in his hands, bouncing it against the floor in a slow rhythm. Each thump echoed softly in the empty room.

He stopped after a while, frowning, staring at nothing.

"One man army, huh," he muttered to nobody.

He turned around and, without even looking, tossed the ball over his shoulder with a lazy flick of his wrist.

The ball passed through the air in a perfect curve and dropped straight through the hoop without even touching the rim.

Snow slowly looked up, a predator’s smile spreading across his face.

"Seth goes first, then," he said to himself, his smile vanishing, replaced by a frown.

"Don’t disappoint me."