Dominance Evolution System: Sweat, Sex, and Streetball

Blacklist 89 – Skull Diggers 64.

Nash had already piled up 41 points, jersey dripping, but his body never broke.

Every recovery passive in his system carried him, lungs fresh, legs firing like it was the first quarter. The more the clock ticked, the more unstoppable he looked. This was his night, his court, his crown.

The Diggers burned substitutions, throwing anyone they had left at him. Nothing worked.

Nash shredded every new defender, one by one, crossing over, spinning, pulling off impossible disorder shots that should never have gone in.

Each one did, and the crowd's roars grew deafening.

On the bench, Jinzo sat hunched backwards, hands closed, eyes empty. The throne he dreamed of wasn't his anymore; it was Nash's.

Daliah leaned toward Victoria.

"Too much weight on him. The team's balance is breaking. Maybe you should—"

Victoria's glasses slid down just enough for her sharp eyes to cut her words off.

"He's doing exactly as ordered. He wears the crown. They follow. Anyone unwilling can leave."

Drex, subbed out, groaned loudly.

"Now he's passing more? Oh sure, put the girls back in and suddenly he remembers team ball."

Mac spat bitterly.

"Guess we were just filler to him. Dead cards in his hand."

But on the floor, Nia and Alicia were blazing again. Alicia knifed down the wings, finishing clean off Nash's feeds.

Nia set vicious screens, then slipped loose for jumpers. Their rhythm fused with Nash's vision, every cut timed perfectly, every pass a marvel of sport.

All hope drained out of the Diggers' faces; victory was no longer in their mind, only the wish to not get humiliated too much.

Then came Salida. She'd shadowed him all night, but now with the game slipping away, her frustration was raw.

She pressed close, too close, body brushing him every second, her shorts damp with heat she couldn't hide.

Each whistle, each bump made her want more, every brush of his scent twisting her stomach. She blamed him, spat words that made no sense.

"It's your fault, your stupid shots, your damn smirk!" but really she was fighting herself, clinging to him like she couldn't let go.

With only seconds left, her frenzy snapped. She stalked him too hard, reaching desperate, and fouled him.

The whistle blasted. Her teammates' faces collapsed. That was it. Done.

Nash smirked, leaning close just enough for her to hear.

"Now, feel like meeting me in the locker room? I'll be there anyway."

Her face twisted, but while her eyes showed rage, her lips biting hard showed lust.

Nash turned, calling Jaz closer. She gulped, nervous, but obeyed. He murmured low, just for her.

"Look, I'll miss on purpose. You dunk it. Make it yours, ok?"

Her eyes widened, stunned. With this score, there was no need for more strategy. What Nash was planning now was solely for her, a way to make her participate in this destruction in a different way.

She was suddenly locked in. The ball came back to Nash. He rose, took the shot, and clanked it, hard off the rim. The crowd gasped.

But following him, Jaz thundered in. She soared, palms wrapping the ball midair, and slammed it down with a roar.

The rim shook, almost cracked. In this move, she put more power than she ever had while defending, so powerful that the noise echoed through the court.

No one even tried to stop her, she moved like a giant missile.

The buzzer screamed. Game over.

Blacklist 101 – Skull Diggers 64.

The crowd erupted, half in joy, half crushed in despair. On the bench, Victoria was stoic for seconds, then, a little smile formed on her lips, under frown eyebrows.

Daliah pressed her lips, impressed despite herself. Nia and Alicia exploded with joy, rushing Nash, but he was already lifted off the ground.

Jaz had scooped him into the air like he weighed nothing.

Her face was flushed, shining, her smile wide.

"My first dunk! Did you see that?! I really did it!" she shouted, thrilled, almost childlike in her joy.

Nash was surprised at how strong she was, like she could've crushed him if she wanted.

This showed that despite his improvements, there would be someone with the power to handle him.

When she set him down, he patted her shoulder.

"Well, well, I'm surprised too. You're better than you've shown. We need to check your offense too."

Jaz's massive chest swelled with pride. She slapped his hand in a fierce high five, showing a growing bond between them.

On the bench, Jinzo sat frozen in confusion. Why was she cheering with Nash? For the second time tonight, he realized how bad the situation had become for him.

The hangar was absolute bedlam. You had fans losing their minds, standing on chairs, screaming their heads off, waving phones in the air like they were trying to signal passing aircraft.

The whole place was a livestream buffet. Hashtags were popping off like fireworks.

#Blacklist101 #NashBlaze #NewKing

The comment sections lit up faster than gasoline:

"Wait... WHO is this dude? Drops 40+, doesn't even break a sweat???"

"Nah, I've watched the Underleague for years, never seen moves like that before."

"What kind of shots were those? He's got a death wish or something. Legendary."

Up in the booth, the commentators couldn't keep it together. Totally losing their cool, yelling over the chaos:

"Folks, do NOT forget this name: Nash Blaze! First Underleague game and he hangs 41 on them? You don't see that every day. You just don't. We might be witnessing history, right here."

"I'm telling you, Blacklist just pulled the ultimate wild card. The whole Underground will be waiting for this guy's next performance."

On the court, it was another feast. Nia launched herself at Nash like she was diving for a medal, shrieking. Alicia's right there, both of them yelling nonsense. Jaz got him in a chokehold hug, bouncing him around like she just won him at a carnival.

This guy was what Victoria announced, an insurance to win and pierce the Upperworld.

And that was just inside the arena. The shockwaves were everywhere.

Zayela was in the living room, TV flickering, hands clamped over her mouth like she was watching a ghost.

"Nash… you did it. You really did it."

Meanwhile, Lina stretched across some ridiculous silk bed in her sky-high suite, cackling like a movie villain, tossing her phone and yelling.

"Now that is my kind of man."

Sarra's on her floor, knees to her chest, that quiet little smile. She's whispering to nobody.

"Knew it…"

And Amara was bouncing on her mattress, basically trying to shatter her own ceiling, screaming at the TV.

"That's my baby! Fuck them up, Nash!"

Didn't matter where you went, dive bars, sketchy betting rooms, suddenly, people gave a damn about Blacklist. People who couldn't name a single player an hour ago were arguing whether they had just become title favorites.

Back on the court, lights blinding, crowd shaking the damn floor, Nash just stands there, with girls hanging off him, the crowd chanting his name, even the commentators sounding half starstruck.

The Underleague's got a new main character.

Nash freakin' Blaze.