The FenrirTech Arena buzzed, sweat and sneakers screeching like a street fight. Second quarter ticked down, and Sloan was a goddamn beast. He snatched his fourth defensive board, muscling out the Hounds’ center with a shove that said, This is mine. More than that—he’d clawed two offensive rebounds, each a gut-punch to the Hounds’ defense.
First one: Ryan trailed like a shadow, caught Sloan’s tip-out, and exploded for a two-hand slam that made the rim cry.
Second one: Sloan battled under the glass, tipped it to Lin in the corner. Lin, eyes locked, drained a three, the net snapping like a whip.
These weren’t cheap boards. First quarter? Roarers hadn’t grabbed a single offensive rebound—Hounds owned the paint. But Sloan? He was rewriting the script.
Halftime. Roarers 56, Hounds 52.
In the locker room, Crawford’s eyes lingered on Sloan. No praise—Crawford didn’t do warm fuzzies—but he scratched Gibson’s minutes on the whiteboard, sliding more to Sloan. Message clear: Keep hunting.
Third quarter tipped off, and Ryan drove the floor, teammates’ head-pats piling up like a fever dream. That system bonus—Emotional Support Mascot—was absurd, but it worked, every pat juiced their confidence and shooting accuracy.
And Lin? Lin was a sniper unleashed.
Ryan knew Lin’s deal. Kid could shoot lights-out—once saw him drill 35 straight corner threes in practice—but his head was fragile. Confidence? Paper-thin. Pressure? Crushed him. Tonight, though, Lin sank his first bucket, patted Ryan’s head, and something clicked. Each shot—swish—stacked his swagger. By the fourth, he was a machine, splashing threes like he owned the arc.
Sloan, meanwhile, kept crashing boards. Every rebound felt like a sermon, echoing Ryan’s words from that diner: "The one who controls the rebound, controls the game." He snagged another—his 14th—shoving a Hounds forward aside like a ragdoll. His eyes burned. He got it now.
Final buzzer screamed. Hounds 96, Roarers 118. A 22-point blowout.
Lin led all scorers with 30 points on 11-of-14 shooting, including 8-of-10 from deep. Ryan grinned, slapping his back—head-pat returned, for once.
Sloan? 4 points, 14 rebounds—a rare double-digit board night, breaking his previous best of 12.
He’d always had the knack, but as a bench guy, minutes were scarce—averaging 7.9 boards in just 19 minutes per game this season.
Tonight, he was a king.
On the bench, Crawford’s lips twitched—closest he’d get to a smile.
And Ryan? He carved out a quiet double-double: 17 points, 11 assists, but just two boards. No surprise there—Sloan was a hawk, snatching every rebound with surgical precision. The paint was his kingdom tonight, and Ryan could only tip his cap. His mind flashed back to that Boulders bloodbath, the night he owned the glass—34 boards, 18 in a single quarter, shattering ABA records. Every miss was his. Now? The tables had turned, and Sloan was the one hoarding the boards like a street king claiming turf.
But Ryan could barely contain his excitement. That Vantix contract? Fourth double-double—check. One last clause, and he’d unlock his own signature shoe.
The presser wrapped, and the Roarers’ chartered jet took off for Solvayn City. Saturday’s clash with the Solvayn Spectres would cap this hellish five-game East Coast gauntlet.
The next day—Thursday, February 6, at 4:00 PM—the team piled into a hotel lounge, low-key and softly lit, for the Rising Stars Challenge Draft. The livestream flickered on a massive screen, and the vibe was electric.
The ABA Rising Stars Challenge Draft was going live.
The camera panned to a slick studio setup: dramatic lighting, crisp graphic overlays, and that familiar jingle that meant ABA content was about to begin.
At center desk was host Damon Reese, all charm and blazer swagger.
"Welcome in, folks. It’s that time of year—the Rising Stars Challenge Draft! Fourteen of the league’s brightest young talents. Two ABA legends. One showdown coming on February 14. Let’s meet the pool."
Cue highlight clips, swaggering intros, and photos sliding in beside each name.
The screen split into panels.
Seven rookie headshots flashed—one by one, under a slick "2024 Rising Stars" banner.
Colter Frye (Vega Tigers)
Ryan Carter (Iron City Roarers)
Derrick Langley (Emerald Bay Lumina)
Zeke Ender (Hervi Mistfoxes)
Darren Koenig (San Merico Paladins)
Zayden Rissard (Millvoque Bullets)
Jalen Wynn (Orvara Eclipse)
Dario Banchieri (Yurev Crows)
Trey Yates (Halveth Skyhawks)
Max McCale (Drayport Talons)
Amin Thomas (Nova City Starships)
Julien Store (Ceris Shadows)
Bo Carrick (San Merico Paladins)
Griffin Dake (Millvoque Bullets)
Two ABA legends joined via holo-link—this year’s Honorary Coaches.
First up: Coach Lionel Vess.
Age 75. A living monument to strategy.
The only coach in ABA history to win titles with three different franchises.
Now, he takes the reins of Team Vess—steady hands, sharper mind.
The split screen showed Coach Lionel Vess in his home office—blazer over a dark turtleneck, one hand already resting on a clipboard.
"And joining him, a name every ABA fan knows by heart: O’Shea Nealson. Two-time champion, former league MVP with the Paladins, and now a courtside analyst. Tonight, he steps in as the honorary coach of Team Nealson."
O’Shea Nealson appeared onscreen in a gold hoodie and a thick chain, his laugh already booming through the feed.
"C’mon, Coach Vess, let’s run it back like ’07," Nealson teased.
Damon grinned. "Now traditionally, we’d go to a coin toss to decide first pick..."
Nealson held up both palms. "No need. Let the legend go first. Gotta respect my elders—before I beat him on game night."
Laughter in the lounge. The Roarers loved it.
Per tradition, rookies go first. Vess leaned in, eyes glinting. "No brainer. It’s Frye or Carter. The Atlantis golden boy or Iron City’s triple-double machine?" he paused, theatric, "—I’m taking Colter Frye."
A highlight reel rolled—Frye posterizing defenders, hitting step-back threes. The Roarers booed playfully. Ryan just sipped his drink, unfazed.
Nealson didn’t hesitate. "Then I’m scooping up Ryan Carter real quick before you change your mind, Coach."
The broadcast cut straight to Ryan’s highlight reel—explosive dunks, fast breaks, rim-rattlers that brought crowds to their feet.
"O’Shea’s got taste!" Kamara shouted, raising a soda can in salute.
Round 2 was all about the sophomores.
Coach Vess wasted no time grabbing Dario Banchieri—the reigning Rookie of the Year.
The picks came fast after that.
True to form, Nealson leaned into his roots as a Paladins legend, snatching up both Darren Koenig and Bo Carrick—two players from his former team—without hesitation.
By the end of the draft, Team Nealson was locked and loaded:
Ryan Carter, Darren Koenig, Zeke Ender, Bo Carrick, Max McCale, Amin Thomas, and Julien Store.
As the stream ended, Crawford stood.
"Bed by 10. Tomorrow’s practice at 9 AM."
Groans followed—but Ryan was already studying his new Rising Stars teammates’ highlights on his phone, locked in.
Later that night, the league dropped the official All-Star starters list. No surprises—LaVonte Jackson topped the West in votes and was named team captain. The East? That honor went to John Adebayo-Kambon.
By Friday night, the All-Star reserves had just been announced.
Ryan was sprawled on his hotel bed, scrolling through the list on his phone. Kamara was already there, lounging in a chair with a snack in hand.
"Hey," Ryan asked, glancing over, "has Darius ever made an All-Star team?"
Ten seasons in the ABA. Still averaging over 20 a game. Darius was a damn good point guard.
Kamara chuckled. "Him? Man’s a bucket, sure. But there’s a whole stack of guards ahead of him. And he’s... well, a handful. The league sees him as bad press. Never made it. Probably never will."
Saturday night, the Velmara Financial Center pulsed with the electric hum of the Solvayn Spectres’ home crowd. The Roarers’ grueling five-game East Coast swing came down to this. When the final buzzer screamed, the scoreboard flashed: Roarers 110, Spectres 101. Victory secured.
Ryan had held his own—23 points, 7 assists, 4 rebounds. Solid line. But tonight’s postgame spotlight wasn’t his.
The media swarm was all for Crawford. After all, who’d predicted this? The Roarers had just pulled off a jaw-dropping five-game sweep on this road trip, defying every pundit who’d bet they’d limp home with maybe a single W against the Vipers. This streak had yanked them from the Western Conference basement, climbing one spot and sitting just one game out of the playoff picture.
Ryan skipped the presser, slumping in the locker room, phone in hand, scrolling the Western standings to the bottom:
8. Zerith City Domes — 14-33 (Last 10: 3-7)
9. Iron City Roarers — 13-34 (Last 10: 6-4)
10. Noze Boulders — 12-35 (Last 10: 3-7)
Only the top eight made the ABA playoffs—ten teams, eight spots. Ryan had laughed when he first heard it, thinking it was a cakewalk compared to his old world’s NBA, where fifteen fought for eight.
But simple? Nah. The Roarers hadn’t sniffed the postseason in seven straight years.
I’m getting this team to the playoffs.
Ryan vowed, fire in his chest.
Of course, the road’s still long. For now, it’s time to enjoy All-Star Weekend—a rare breather in a grinding season. Next game? February 20.
Plenty of time to make history.