Vorpal Pov

[3rd POV] – Vorpal Basket's Players Before Lucas Steps In

The tension on the bench was suffocating. The scoreboard read:

🔹 Orlando Hoops – 32

🔹 Vorpal Basket – 12

A 20-point deficit.

Sweat dripped from Evan Cooper's brow as he sat with his head down, his legs bouncing restlessly. He hated losing, and right now, that's all they were doing.

Josh Turner, his ankle wrapped in ice, winced as he watched their starters struggle. "Damn it…" he muttered, rubbing his temples.

Ryan Taylor leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. He had given everything in the last few plays, but the gap just kept getting bigger. "Man, we can't stop them."

Aiden White sat with his elbows on his knees, his fingers locked together. He wasn't the type to give motivational speeches, but even he could feel how defeated they all looked. "It's like… they don't even respect us."

Coonie Smith, the sharp-tongued bench player, scoffed. "Well, are they wrong?" His voice was laced with frustration. "They're out there playing basketball. We're out there getting embarrassed."

No one answered.

Evan gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. He looked at the court, at Alec Storm effortlessly breaking down their defense, at Mason Hayes sinking shot after shot.

"We're not even making them work for it." Evan muttered.

Josh exhaled, shaking his head. "Coach needs to sub someone in. We need fresh legs."

Ryan sighed. "But who? We barely have depth."

And then—

Coach Fred Mason's voice rang out from the sideline.

"Lucas! Get in there!"

A pause.

A blink.

The entire bench turned to look at Lucas Graves.

Lucas. The benchwarmer. The water boy.

Ryan Taylor raised an eyebrow. "Wait, wait, wait—hold up. Coach, you're putting him in?"

Aiden White scoffed, adjusting his jersey. "We're already getting destroyed, and now we're just giving up?"

Josh Turner, who had been on the team longer, frowned but didn't say anything. Lucas was a nice guy, sure… but this was an exhibition game against a top-tier team. This wasn't a charity event.

One of the benchplayer scratched his head. "Man, we're already getting smoked. Are we really just throwing in the towel?"

Aiden White exhaled and leaned back. He had nothing against Lucas, but… "This ain't high school ball. This is Orlando Hoops. You don't just casually sub in a bench player against them."

Evan, ever the competitor, frowned slightly but kept his mouth shut. He had seen Lucas at practice before. The dude tried hard. He wasn't bad, but he wasn't special either.

Lucas stood up, adjusting his jersey. His expression? Calm.

Too calm.

Like he didn't even hear them doubting him.

Ethan Albarado, sitting beside Lucas, smirked as if he knew something no one else did.

Lucas didn't say anything. He just walked toward the court, his posture relaxed but confident.

Josh crossed his arms and shook his head. "Well, guess we're about to see what he can do."

Ryan scoffed. "Yeah, right."

Aiden muttered under his breath. "This is a joke…"

....

Lucas jogged onto the court.

The crowd barely reacted.

The Orlando Hoops barely reacted.

And even his own teammates barely reacted.

To them, he was just another guy in a jersey.

Alec Storm, the opposing point guard, smirked as he saw Lucas take position. "They're really putting in a scrub?" he muttered to Mason Hayes.

Mason chuckled. "Guess they've given up."

Lucas ignored them.

The referee blew the whistle, and the game resumed.

Vorpal Basket inbounded the ball to Lucas.

Evan, standing nearby, watched closely. He expected Lucas to pass the ball off immediately—like any nervous bench player would.

Instead—

Lucas dribbled.

Not just any dribble

.

A tight, controlled bounce.

Josh blinked. "Wait, what?"

Ryan frowned. "That looked kinda… clean."

Lucas took a step forward. Alec Storm moved to press him.

Lucas reacted instantly.

BAM! A crossover.

Alec's foot shifted—just slightly, just enough.

Lucas saw it.

And he exploited it.

With a sharp burst of speed, he blew past Alec Storm like he was standing still.

Josh's mouth fell open.

Ryan shot forward in his seat.

Aiden, who had been shaking his head a moment ago, froze.

Lucas stepped into the mid-range and launched a shot.

Perfect form. Perfect release.

The ball arced beautifully.

SWISH.

Dead silence.

Then—an explosion of noise from the crowd.

The Vorpal Basket bench lost their minds.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Ryan shouted, standing up.

Josh blinked rapidly. "No, no, no, no—what the hell did we just watch?!"

Aiden, who had doubted him the most, leaned forward, staring at Lucas like he was seeing him for the first time. "Wait… what?"

Evan's heart pounded. He didn't even realize he had been holding his breath.

Lucas Graves—a benchwarmer, a water boy—just broke down the best point guard on the floor and scored like it was nothing.

On the Orlando Hoops' side, Alec Storm's face twitched.

Mason Hayes raised an eyebrow.

Julian Cross muttered, "What just happened?"

Ethan Blake exhaled sharply. "Oh, shit… this guy's legit."

Even Coach Fred Mason, who barely paid attention to his bench players, was leaning forward.

Lucas turned around, expression calm.

Like nothing had happened.

Like he expected that shot to go in.

Josh muttered under his breath, "Okay… this is not the same Lucas I know."

Ryan was still staring at the scoreboard. "Wasn't he a bench player?"

Evan exhaled and shook his head.

"No," he muttered.

"Not anymore."