Chapter 410: An Orgy of Attention

The match against the Colossus was coming up, and in the Underground, it wasn’t even about sports anymore. It was the only thing anyone talked about.

In the bars, on the street corners, on the big public screens, and in the long lines at the bookies, everyone had the same question: Was Blacklist actually going to hold their own against the champions, or were the Colossus just going to crush a bunch of newbies who thought they were in a fairy tale?

If you wanted to know the latest gossip, there was one place to go.

’Unmasking’ was the most-watched debate show in every sector. It wasn’t a news program or some fancy analysis; it was a total shitshow.

They talked about street politics, debts, murders, the league, and who was fucking who or who owed money to whom. People went on the show to scream, show off, and sometimes start touching each other the second the cameras cut... or even when they didn’t.

That night, there was only one topic taking up the whole set: Blacklist VS Colossus.

The studio was an old warehouse with purple neon lights and a UNMASKING banner that was already peeling at the edges. The cameras were handheld and the benches were rotting.

Some guys were half-jerking off just for a laugh whenever the volume went up, and a girl in the front row was letting a weird dude feel her up like it was part of the opening credits.

Fredo, the main host, jumped up. His suit was wrinkled, his shirt was open all the way down to his belly, and his teeth looked gold or copper depending on how the light hit them. He held a shitty microphone.

"We’re talking about the only thing that matters this week, you psychos!" Fredo yelled. "BLACKLIST VERSUS COLOSSUS. And I want blood. Real debate. Not some bullshit you just made up!"

Around the table sat the usual crew.

There was Marla, a local whore. Her cleavage was hanging halfway out of her top and her lipstick was smeared. She crossed her bare legs high enough that the camera didn’t even have to try to find her pussy.

"I’ll say one thing," Marla said, leaning in. "If Nash Blaze walks past my place, I’ll suck his cock right there on the sidewalk for free, on my knees in front of everyone. I just want to know if what he’s got in his pants hits as hard as he does on the court. And if he hits the back of my throat, I’m keeping him for the night."

Big Tone, a pimp with three heavy chains around the neck, let out a throaty laugh and slapped the table.

"Y’say that ’bout every dick that shows up on TV, bitch. We know how this goes. Last week t’was Seth, before that, t’was the captain of the Falcons."

"Yeah, but this one," she pointed to the screen where Nash was walking around shirtless, "this one I’d actually do for free. I’d spread my legs for him live on air if Fredo gave me a long enough mic."

The crowd roared, a guy in the front row started rubbing his cock through his pants just for the attention. Fredo waved it toward the camera like it was a gift.

"See! Now that’s real news!"

Then there was Snake, a skinny dealer in a shiny tracksuit. He had shifty eyes and a bag of drugs that he wasn’t even trying to hide anymore.

"I put a lot of money on Colossus," Snake said, drumming his fingers on the table. "That team has never lost. We aren’t suddenly believing in miracles just because a guy from the Slums knows how to dribble and fuck three bitches at once. The bookies know how to count."

"Easy for you to say since you’ve never seen Nash in real life," Fredo cut him off. "That guy doesn’t just play ball. He does things you can’t even explain."

"Miracles, my ass," Snake scoffed. "Colossus is going to eat him alive. Seth will shut him down, Vex will crush him, and you bitches on this set will be sucking the winner’s dick in the parking lot. Like always."

A fat commentator in a tank top raised his hand.

"Colossus destroys them. It’s math. They’ve never lost. Period."

The female commentator with the long acrylic nails leaned forward, her breasts almost popping out of her top.

"You don’t know shit. Nash has something... I can’t explain it. But if that man told me to come train in a locker room, I’d get on all fours and say thank you. I’m only half-joking. Actually, I’m not joking at all."

Everyone laughed. Fredo waved his hand, not really caring.

"Alright, let’s stick to the sports."

"The sports," said a girl with pink hair who looked way too young to be there, "I don’t even get the rules. But I get why the Baby-Booms are fighting over him. I’d let him fuck me during a time-out, cameras on."

An old commentator tried to step in.

"We’re talking about Breakball here!"

"We’re also talking about Seth Vane," said the guy in the suit, the only calm one at the table. "He’s not a player. He’s a machine. Nash is about to get the biggest lesson of his life."

"A machine against a beast," the girl with the long nails corrected. "A team of monsters against the monster of monsters. Now that’s a real fight. The rest is just about who’s sucking whose cock after the buzzer."

Everyone started talking over each other. No one agreed on anything, not the favorite, not the score, and not who would end up on their knees in some hallway at Hell Gates. They didn’t even seem to care that this was a match between the two undefeated teams in the league.

Fredo raised both hands with a big grin, his microphone crackling.

"Alright! We aren’t agreeing tonight. The whole Underground will find out soon enough. See you at the Hell Gates Arena. May the best man win. And for the losers? Hope you get fucked in peace!"

All over the Underground, the hype had just gone insane. People were betting everywhere: in the bars, on street corners, basically everywhere. Completely stupid amounts of money were already changing hands on a result nobody could predict.

This was not like Blacklist versus the Dust Dogs. Back then, people were just betting on how many points the Dust Dogs would even manage to score. Nash had even gotten destroyed on socials because he had not stopped Saya, blowing the chance at a 0-point game. But this time it was different. Nobody knew what to expect.

Some swore Colossus would stay undefeated forever, like a cold machine nothing human could touch. But others, more and more of them, were starting to believe Blacklist was finally different. Why? Because they had an anomaly that looked exactly not human.

On the forums, it was a mess.

NashCockOfficial: If Colossus wins, I swear I’m done watching Breakball for good.

SethBigPP: lmao you actually thought a rookie was going to beat Seth Vane?🤡🤡🤡🤡

NashCockOfficial: SETH IS GETTING HUMILIATED, seriously you people are writing your excuses in advance.

thicc_thighs_save_lives: ok but between us, is Aiko still a virgin? I saw a story of her walking with him.

SethBigPP: you’ve never even seen Colossus play live, you’re talking for nothing.

NashCockOfficial: I HAVE WATCHED EVERY BLACKLIST GAME FROM THE START, shut your mouth!

RaptorQueen99: can you two calm down for two seconds please?

thicc_thighs_save_lives: seriously can somebody confirm on Aiko please, I need to know.

SethBigPP: Seth has never missed a clutch shot in his whole career, NEVER. Nash is about to learn what it feels like to lose for real.

NashCockOfficial: Colossus has never faced somebody like Nash either, they don’t even know what’s coming.

Big_Dick_Energy_44: personally I’m not stressing, Hina’s the most fuckable of the bunch.

RaptorQueen99: @Big_Dick_Energy_44 nobody asked you asshole, Kai’s the best #TomboyForever

Big_Dick_Energy_44: #BigBoobsANDFatassForever you uncultured slut

SethBigPP: Colossus stays undefeated, period, debate over.

NashCockOfficial: NOT IN THIS LIFE, you’re all eating your words in a few days.

thicc_thighs_save_lives: so nobody confirms on Aiko, ok cool thanks team.

Just a few days left until the big match. For everyone else, the regular season was winding down, but for Jinzo, his season ended the second Blacklist dropped his ass.

He woke up in the same shitty room he’d been sleeping in. It was a dump. The walls were damp and gross, and the mattress on the floor still smelled like the sweaty guy who had slept there before him.

Since he didn’t have a club anymore, he didn’t have a paycheck. Honestly, there wasn’t even a good reason to get out of bed, except that if he stayed on his back any longer, he felt like the ceiling was going to cave in on him.

He sat there for a bit, toes curling against the cold floor. He listened to the sounds of the building: a couple screaming at each other, a leaky faucet that wouldn’t shut up, and someone laughing way too loud two floors up.

Nobody called his name. In fact, nobody had said his name in weeks. He started wondering if anyone even remembered he existed. Even the trolls who used to shit on him online had found someone new to hate.

He finally got up and walked out, mostly because the room felt even worse than the outside.

The Slums in the late morning were loud as hell, but nobody actually looked at anyone. On the corner, two loaders were arguing about whether Blacklist or Colossus was better, sharing a cigarette and spitting on the ground. In the line at a food stall, a girl in a work apron was gushing about how Nash was hotter than any top model. Her friend giggled, swearing she’d get Nash’s autograph right on her tits and then she’d take the chance to fuck the shit out of him. They both looked like they were in heaven just thinking about it.

A kid nearby dribbled a half-flat ball into a crate and screamed "BLAZE!" when it went in. All over the street, the big screens were playing the same clip on a loop. Nash rising. Nash passing. Nash leading the team. It was fucking Nashamania.

Jinzo walked through the crowd, and it was like he was a ghost. Some guy bumped right into him and then apologized to the empty air, not even noticing Jinzo was there. A bookie shouted out the odds, looking straight through his face. Jinzo used to be the ace. Back then, people moved out of his way.... Maybe not everyone, yeah, but at least the NPCs did. Now, he was just an invisible man.

He just let his feet lead him. He didn’t have a plan for tomorrow, because tomorrow was just going to be another empty street.

Then, he hit a wall.

Literally. There was a poster covering the entire side of a building. It was huge and bright, showing Nash and Seth in a confident pose that the designers probably spent forever perfecting.

Jinzo stopped. He stood there for a long time.

He remembered when that wall was supposed to be his. He pictured himself there, with his hot girlfriend on his arm with her big body and huge, swinging tits. He was supposed to be the undisputed ace, being the ace meant you got everything you wanted. You didn’t even have to ask; you just took it. A face like that, on a poster like that... it should have been his.

Then Nash showed up and stole everything. His role, his girl, even his dignity.

Jinzo remembered the exact night it all fell apart. He remembered watching Nash fuck Jaz right in front of him, in the same room. Not just once, but twice. Jinzo couldn’t do a thing except sit there and watch them go at it. The worst part? His own cock started getting hard. He found himself rubbing his own dick, masturbating to the sight of his girl getting fucked by another man. In that second, he lost whatever dignity he had left as a man.

He should have punched Nash for that, but even that had been stolen by Nash. Nash had beaten the shit out of him once, back when Jinzo had tried to rape Aiko. He couldn’t even pretend that punch hadn’t been deserved.

Jinzo smiled, a small, bitter look. He knew he’d fucked up somewhere. He probably shouldn’t have tried his luck with Aiko that night.

He looked away from the poster and started walking again, still having nowhere to go.

"I should’ve just poisoned this fucker," he muttered, almost laughing to himself.