The Peak University locker room was a small, fluorescent-lit space tucked off the main corridor of the Velaris Crown sports complex. It was a visitor’s locker room rather than a home one, which meant cramped benches, slightly faded paint, and a single whiteboard mounted on one wall.
The team filed inside to the kind of charged silence that always followed an unexpected first half.
Marcus dropped onto a bench and let himself fall backward until his head thumped lightly against the wall. For several seconds, he simply stared at the ceiling. Then he pointed upward. "Someone check the scoreboard for me."
A few players looked over and said in a teasing voice: "I think it’s broken."
Laughter rippled through the locker room.
Zack snorted. "The scoreboard’s fine."
Marcus sat up slightly. "No, seriously. We are up nine."
"Correct."
"Against Crown."
"Yes."
"At their own home."
"Still correct."
Marcus stared at him for another second before dropping back onto the bench. "I need a minute to process this."
The locker room broke into laughter.
Someone tossed Stan a water bottle, he caught it one-handed and drank nearly half of it in three long swallows. The team manager wheeled in a cooler and began distributing cold towels.
Nearby, Coach Ederson stood with his arms folded. The quiet older coach had said roughly three sentences per game in Stan’s experience, and he seemed perfectly content to maintain that average. After a moment, he gestured toward Zack.
The captain took the hint. Picking up a marker, Zack tapped it against his palm a few times before turning to the whiteboard. "Alright. Listen up."
The room settled. "We’re up nine. That’s the situation." He uncapped the marker and quickly sketched a half-court diagram. "But that isn’t the goal."
He drew a circle around the scoreboard he’d scribbled in the corner. "The goal is to be up when the clock hits zero."
A few heads nodded.
"Crown is coming out angry in the third quarter. Their coach has spent halftime reminding them they’re losing at home."
A couple players chuckled.
"Their crowd is uncomfortable. Their starters are frustrated. They’re going to throw their best punch of the day at us in the first six minutes." He looked around the room. "We have to absorb it."
The marker tapped against the board.
"That means defense."
Tap!
"Rebounds."
Tap!
"Communication."
Tap!
"No hero ball." His gaze sharpened. "We run the offense. We trust each other. We let Crown burn energy trying to erase the deficit. Then we take control again."
He pointed the marker toward Stan.
"Stan."
Stan looked up.
"They’re coming after you."
Several teammates nodded immediately.
"Tobi bothered you for stretches in the second quarter. They’ve got nearly an entire half of game footage now, and unfortunately for them, it’s really good footage."
A few laughs broke out.
"They’re going to change the coverage. Maybe traps. Maybe doubles. Maybe hard hedges off the screen." He pointed the marker again. "Be patient. Don’t force anything."
Stan nodded.
"If they collapse, Marcus and I are there. We’ve practiced these reads."
"Understood."
Zack shifted the marker toward Marcus. "And you."
Marcus pointed at himself. "Me?"
"Yes you." Zack tapped the diagram. "They’ve been so focused on Stan that you’ve been getting single coverage in the post for most of the second quarter."
Marcus sat up immediately. "Oh."
"We’re exploiting that until they prove they can stop it."
A slow grin spread across Marcus’s face. "Copy."
"Bench." Zack turned toward the second unit. "You’re getting extended minutes in the third. Stay ready. A nine-point lead can disappear in two possessions if we lose focus."
The reserves nodded.
Zack set the marker down. Then he paused. "And one more thing."
The room quieted again. For the first time, a harder edge entered his voice. "That crowd out there has spent the last nine days telling us we don’t belong on the same court as Velaris Crown."
Several players smirked.
"They made memes."
Laughter.
"They made a hashtag."
More laughter.
Zack pointed toward the tunnel leading back to the court. "Let’s take a piece of their evening that they don’t get back."
The locker room answered with a noise somewhere between a laugh and a battle cry.
Marcus was the first to his feet. "Bro, I am grabbing every rebound in that paint." He jabbed a thumb into his chest. "Every. Single. One."
"That’s exactly what I want to hear." The energy in the room rose immediately.
Stan finished the rest of his water and stood. He felt good. More than good. He had already recovered from the game’s slight fatigue. What had clearly taken a physical toll on many of his teammates felt, to him, roughly equivalent to a moderately intense jog. His breathing was steady. His legs felt fresh. His muscles were loose.
Across the room, Zack caught his eye. "You got anything to add?"
Stan thought for a second. Then shrugged. "Just point me at them."
For a heartbeat, the room went quiet. Then Zack grinned. A wide, dangerous grin. "Pointing huh."
....
The Peak University team filed out of the locker room and down the long corridor toward the court, the roar of the arena growing louder with every step.
The home crowd was already on its feet, Velaris Crown’s student section having spent halftime orchestrating a coordinated surge.
The chant "PEAK SO WEAK!" thundered through the stands, amplified by megaphones and bouncing off the rafters in relentless waves of hostility.
Stan walked at the center of the group, calm and focused, his sleeveless jersey still slightly damp from the first half. As they emerged onto the brightly lit court, the noise hit like a physical force. Boos rained down from every corner of the arena, directed squarely at the visiting players.
His gaze swept instinctively toward the Peak cheer section. Sophie was already watching for him. The moment their eyes met, she gave him a small but fierce nod, her expression blazing with pride and determination.
’Finish them.’
The message was unmistakable.
Beside Sophie, Maya mirrored the intensity.