The basketball hit the concrete with a rhythmic bounce, echoing off the faction building's exterior walls. Kelvin dribbled twice, faked left, then drove right past one of his recruits who'd committed too early to the feint.
"Come on, Marcus!" Diana called from the sideline. "He does that every time!"
Marcus recovered, but Kelvin was already at the makeshift hoop—really just a metal ring welded to a support beam. He went up for the layup, the ball arcing toward the rim.
Diana's hand appeared from nowhere, swatting the shot away with the kind of timing that came from enhanced reflexes and years of combat training.
"Blocked!" she shouted, landing and immediately pivoting to grab the loose ball.
"That was a foul!" Kelvin protested.
"That was clean defense." Diana dribbled toward the opposite end, her team scrambling to keep up. "You're just mad because you thought you had an easy two points."
