2025-07-06 13:00:34Andre stared at his screen like it was a hallucination. The video was real Him. Training alone. Recorded in the grainy glow of that rusted streetlight. It had already hit 870,000 views and was climbing by the second. No captions. No hashtags. Just the raw clip.
And the comments… “Who is this kid?!”
“Tell me this isn’t a movie.”
“The hunger in his eyes. This is why I love the game.”
“Yo, someone sign this boy NOW.”
“Leagues better than half the current roster of the Knicks.”
Andre’s hands shook. He stumbled into his tiny bathroom, splashed cold water on his face. Looked into the cracked mirror. Same eyes. Same scars. Same kid from yesterday. But somehow, the world was seeing something else now.
By the time he got dressed for work, he had 1,209 unread messages. And counting. One came from a sports journalist: “Interview? You’re the story of the week.”
Another from a burner account: “Meet me at 4 p.m., Fulton Café. No media. Just talk.” – CM
He had no idea who “CM” was. Probably a scam. But something about the message felt... real. At SpringClean, the mood shifted the moment he walked in. Dalton, his manager, raised an eyebrow. “Look who finally decided to show up.”
Andre mumbled, “Sorry, sir.” Dalton squinted. “You sick or something?”
“No.”
“You... look different.”
Andre looked down at his janitor uniform. “Same as always.” Dalton grunted. “Don’t get any ideas. I don’t care how many TikToks you got. This mop don’t go viral, son.” Andre nodded.
But the other cleaners stared at him with wide eyes. One young guy whispered, “That’s the dude from the clip, bro. That’s him.” Another muttered, “You serious?”
Suddenly, phones started coming out. Someone tried to take a sneaky photo. Andre stepped into the storage closet and shut the door behind him.
4:00 PM – Fulton Café, Andre sat at a corner table. Nervous. Heart racing. He hadn’t eaten. Couldn’t even taste the free biscuit they served with his tea. Then the bell rang. A tall, well-groomed man in a gray coat walked in. Black gloves. Sharp eyes. A presence that whispered money and decisions. He spotted Andre instantly. Sat down across from him. “Mr. Corbin,” he said with a calm smile. Andre blinked. “Yeah?”
“I’m Clive Madden. Talent scout for FC Titania.” He slid a sleek business card across the table. Andre picked it up with shaking fingers. “You’re the one who”
“Yes,” Clive interrupted gently. “I recorded it. I watched you for an hour before I even pressed ‘record.’ I’ve seen athletes. But you? You were fighting ghosts out there.” Andre’s throat went dry. “So why post it?” Clive leaned in.
“Because talent like yours doesn’t stay hidden forever. It deserves to be chased.” Over the next hour, Clive explained everything. Top clubs had already reached out. Two offers were already on the table without even knowing Andre’s name.
Sponsorship agencies were circling like hawks. Tryout invitations were rolling in from Spain, Italy, New York, Dubai. Andre just sat there. Silent. Finally, he asked, “Why me?” Clive looked at him, serious.
“Because when no one was watching, you still played like everything was on the line. That’s who I bet on.” That night, Andre sat on the roof of his apartment building. Legs dangling off the edge. Hoodie on. Stars above. His phone buzzed again.
Teanna : “So… I guess you’re famous now? ”
He didn’t answer. Seconds later: “I always believed in you. We should talk.” He deleted the thread. Then opened a new one.
Andre, Mom: “Ma. U up?”
A reply came instantly: Mom : “Always, my son.” He smiled. The world had finally seen him. But the question remained… Would it change him? Or would he change the world?
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Chapter 20 – The Girl Who Wasn’t Saved
Rain clattered softly against the thick glass windows of the Titania Research Archive. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered always two seconds late to stabilize after motion sensors detected movement. The place felt like a tomb of secrets.Andre stood behind Sasha, jaw clenched, heart thudding too fast. The massive screen before them displayed raw code and encrypted archives decrypted line by line by Sparrow, the AI Sasha had fine-tuned to hack into black-ops files even TitanCorp pretended didn’t exist.And then it appeared. ALYS CORBIN – Project A-102Andre’s breath caught. His hands, once steady from years of court pressure, trembled. “That can’t be real. Alys died. I saw the report. I saw”His voice faltered. “I saw the coffin.”Sasha didn’t turn around. Her voice was quiet, clipped. “You saw what they wanted you to see.” She tapped a command. The monitor buzzed, then played video footage.A sterile, circular chamber. Walls lined with biometric sensors. Inside, a young woman s
Chapter 19 – Flaws That Bleed
The sun hung heavy above the Dust Court in Lagos. The rim creaked with every dunk, the backboard was scratched with years of battle scars, and the lines were barely visible but it was alive. And standing in the middle of it all was Andre Corbin.No guards. No entourage. No press. Just a worn-out whistle, a ball under his arm, and thirty teenagers staring at him like he was a myth.“I’m not here to show off,” Andre said. “I’m here because this court made me.”The crowd was silent. He pointed to a kid fumbling a dribble.“You miss, you fall, you cry good. That’s what makes you real. You don’t need perfection. You need flaws that bleed.” “Because that means you’re human.”Three hours later, Andre’s pickup game livestream had over 70 million views. Clips of him helping a limping kid tie his laces. Teaching a girl how to drive left. Losing and laughing about it.The world had never seen him like this. No polished arenas. No sponsors. Just Andre. And that made him unstoppable.Far beneath t
Chapter 18 – The Boy Without a Pulse
Location: Titania Arena – Free League Debut NightThe crowd roared as Eli Dane, the mysterious newcomer, danced down the court.His movement: clinical.His vision: AI-perfect.His emotion: nonexistent.Andre sat in the VIP section, arms folded, eyes narrowed.Clive leaned in. “We ran his background. No youth team records, no street footage, no agent history just appeared.”Sasha added via earpiece: “I checked his biometrics from the pre-game scans. They're too clean. Heart rate never spiked once. No cortisol. No fatigue markers.”Andre didn’t blink. “That’s not a player. That’s a project.”Flashback – Eden Labs. Three Months Ago, Viktor Lorne watched a group of young test subjects in surgical rooms. A teenage boy sat up, electrodes across his temples.“Name?” “Eli Dane.”“Purpose?” “To dominate. Without fear. Without flaw.”Dr. Xun whispered to Viktor: “We calibrated him using Andre’s playstyle. But we removed 100% of the emotion. He's Andre minus Andre.”Present – Free League Game, H
Chapter 17 – EDEN
Location: Underground Titania Vault, 11:03 PMAndre sat alone in a freezing steel chamber beneath Titania HQ. The flash drive labeled “GENESIS” was now destroyed but its data lived on.Clive entered slowly, carrying an old briefcase. “You told me once,” Clive said, “that they could erase your stats, break your bones, but they’d never take your drive. You sure you’re ready for what’s in here?” Andre nodded once.Clive opened the briefcase. Inside: a military-grade tablet with a file named: EDEN_V1: SUBJECT PROTOCOLS – CLASSIFIED.Sasha joined them remotely on a secure screen. “We ran every trace. EDEN wasn’t just created by Viktor. It was funded by defense contractors. GENESIS was predictive. EDEN is controlling.”Andre scrolled. Lines of classified data were revealed: Neural implants, Muscle override systems, A.I. synced “performance personalities” Emotion suppression thresholds, and the list of test subjects.He leaned back, stunned. “They didn’t just want to influence me, they tried
Chapter 16 – Genesis
Titania HQ – Cyber Forensics Lab, 2:15 AM Andre stared at the flash drive labeled “GENESIS” as Sasha carefully inserted it into a secure offline terminal. “No Wi-Fi, no cloud sync,” she said. “We don’t know what’s inside or who’s watching.” Clive stood nearby, arms folded. “This could be bait. A virus. A trap.” Andre shook his head. “No… it’s Teanna’s last card. She wouldn’t hand this over unless she wanted me to see what Viktor buried.” The screen blinked.File Loaded: GENESIS_MASTER.AISasha frowned. “It’s an artificial intelligence file.” Clive blinked. “Wait. Viktor was building an AI?” Sasha opened the dashboard. “GENESIS – A Predictive Sports Algorithm Trained on 22 Years of Global Data. Owned by: V. Lorne / IronWall Analytics.”Lines of code and simulations ran wild. Then Sasha clicked: “PROJECTED ATHLETE PATHS.” On the screen: thousands of rising player profiles appeared.Names.Countries.Injury forecasts.Mental resilience scores.“Obedience Indexes.”Predicted Market Value
Chapter 15 – “The Power Play
Titania Global Headquarters – Executive Boardroom Andre stood before a wall of glass, overlooking a skyline that once felt impossible to reach. Clive entered, holding a leather-bound portfolio. “It’s done,” he said. Andre didn’t turn. “Viktor?” “Interpol issued the Red Notice. He’s on every border list in Europe.” Andre finally faced him. “And the leagues?” Clive flipped open the folder. Viktor Lorne banned for life. Reznov suspended pending investigation. 14 club executives resigned. Over 30 rigged match results revoked. Andre Corbin cleared on all counts and reinstated with back pay, interest, and full image rights. Andre smiled faintly. “Good.”Midtown London – Lavish Sports Network Studio That same night, a rival agent, Max Geller, hosted a live segment on Corbin: “Andre Corbin’s story is no longer just an underdog tale. It’s a tectonic shift. Players are quitting agencies, clubs are demanding audits, and fans are pushing for transparency.” “He didn’t just fight for himself. He k
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