The Zentron Celestial Arena thrummed with raw energy, its lights pulsing like the heartbeat of Vega City on All-Star Weekend’s second night.
Saturday was all about spectacle—no head-to-head battles, just pure showmanship and crowd connection.
The Skills Challenge, the night’s main event, paired four star players with lucky fans drawn from the stands, while mini-games and fan contests kept the vibe electric.
At 7:30 p.m., the four chosen star players strode out of the tunnel, their names booming over the PA system to a roaring crowd of eighteen thousand.
Ryan Carter, Iron City Roarers
Shael Grant-Alexis, Vega Tigers
Jalen Hardell, Nova City Starships
Christian Powell, Vellix City Phantoms
Ryan, in his No. 0 Roarers jersey, scanned the stands as he emerged, his eyes zeroing in on the seats he’d bought.
There she was—Chloe Palmer, rocking his jersey, her presence magnetic even in a sea of fans.
Jamal sat beside her, Eddie one seat over, both grinning like they knew something he didn’t.
The emcee, a lanky showman with a voice that could rattle the rafters, took center stage, hyping the crowd for the random draw.
Every seat in the arena had a number, and the players would pick their partners by stopping a digital ticker on the jumbotron. First up was Shael Grant-Alexis, the Vega Tigers’ ace and hometown hero.
"Computer’s random, folks! Watch the big screen, Shael shouts stop, and we’ve got a winner!" the emcee bellowed, WWF-style. The numbers spun—section, row, seat."Stop!" Shael called.
The screen froze: Section C, Row 12, Seat 9.
The camera swung to a kid in the stands, maybe nineteen, who leapt up, fists pumping, before sprinting to the court.
He shook Shael’s hand, grinning ear to ear as the emcee asked his name and how it felt to team up with a star. The kid’s excitement was infectious, his words tumbling out in a rush.
Jalen Hardell and Christian Powell followed, each drawing their own lucky fan.
Every time the ticker spun, the arena held its breath, only to exhale in a collective groan of disappointment. Everyone wanted a shot to play alongside an All-Star.
Jamal was no exception, his eyes glued to the jumbotron, wide as saucers, every spin a rollercoaster of hope and letdown. But with only four spots in a crowd of eighteen thousand—a 0.02% chance—he came up empty.
Finally, it was Ryan’s turn. He walked up to the emcee, took the mic, and stared at the spinning numbers.
The screen locked on Section F.
"Ah!" Jamal yelped from the stands, his voice cutting through the din. Their seats were in F.
Jamal’s heart sank—they were one row back.
Finally, Seat 18 lit up.
The emcee read the number, his voice booming like a pro wrestling announcer.
The camera panned to a woman in her sixties, just in front of Jamal, her expression dazed as the spotlight hit. The crowd around her turned, eyes burning with envy and awe.
Her husband grinned, took her hand, and whispered something.
She shook her head, crossing her arms in an X to the camera, opting out.
The emcee raised the mic. "Ma’am, are you passing on this chance?"
She nodded, firm but polite.
"Such a shame!" the emcee said, keeping it light. "A rare shot to team up with our Rising Stars MVP, Ryan Carter!" He didn’t push—her choice was hers, and her age likely played a part.
He pivoted. "Alright, ma’am, want to pass this opportunity to someone nearby? If not, we’ll redraw."
She glanced at her husband, who shook his head with a warm smile.
That’s when Jamal leapt up, voice booming. "Give it to me!
The crowd around him lost it, a chorus of "Me!" and "Pick me, please!" erupting.
Ryan, watching the jumbotron, signaled to the emcee for the mic.
He took it, his voice calm but carrying weight. "Ma’am, if it’s cool with you, could you pass it to my friend? The guy behind you in my jersey."
The camera swung to Jamal, who was all but vibrating with excitement.
"Lady, please," he shouted, "let me team up with my brother!"
The woman turned, her smile soft but certain, and nodded.
The emcee snatched the mic back. "Well, there you go! The lady’s passing the chance to Ryan’s friend. Let’s see some brotherly teamwork tonight!"
Jamal shot to his feet, ready to storm the court, but Eddie grabbed his arm, yanking him back down with a devilish grin.
"Yo, what?" Jamal snapped.
Eddie pointed at Chloe, his smirk pure mischief. "Give it to her."
Jamal froze, then got it. He was dying to hit the court with Ryan, to run the Skills Challenge together — but he owed his boy too much.
If this could bring Ryan and Chloe a step closer, giving up the spot was nothing.
He turned to the camera, pointing at Chloe. "Her."
The emcee blinked, thrown. "Wait, you’re passing it to the lady next to you?"
The camera zoomed in on Chloe. Surprise flashed across her face, followed by a quick glare at Jamal—half-annoyed, half-amused.
The camera zoomed in on her, and her cherry-red lips curving into a confident smile.
The emcee started, "Alright, this lady right here, you—wait a second... oh my God, Chloe Palmer!"
Her confident smile cut through the noise—she was ready.
Chloe descended the stands, moving with the ease of a Vegas headliner, parting the crowd as phones flashed to capture her. She reached Ryan’s side, her citrus-and-pepper perfume hitting him like a fast break. Her eyes danced with mischief as she leaned in, voice low and teasing. "You set this up, Ryan?"
Ryan grinned, shaking his head. "You think I’ve got the pull to get the ABA to rig this? And Jamal giving you the spot—that wasn’t me either."
The emcee swooped in, mic hot, his grin wider than the desert sky. "Chloe Palmer, teaming up with your brand ambassador, Ryan Carter! How’s it feel to hit the court with the Rising Stars MVP?"
He didn’t mention Zero9—no sponsor, no plug.
Chloe, sharp as ever, kept it clean. "Feels unreal," she said. "This is the best kind of spotlight." She shot Ryan a look, her cherry-red lips curving. "Right, MVP?"
The arena roared, and Ryan felt heat creep up his neck.
"Vega City, give it up for Team Iron City—Ryan Carter and Chloe Palmer!" the emcee bellowed.
The crowd’s cheers hit like a shockwave, vibrating through Ryan’s chest.
Chloe was a known name—Steven Palmer’s heiress, Iron City’s richest socialite, a star in her own right.
She stood out among the teams—the only woman among the four fan picks, with the other three all men.