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...
He didn’t rush.
His dribble was slow, rhythmic—like a ticking clock.
Eyes flicking, scanning, measuring.
Ahead stood Micah Vale.
Stance pristine. Arms low, wide. Knees bent just enough for balance but tight enough to strike.
(Strong base. Fast reaction time. Reads eyes, not shoulders.)
Lucas’s dribble slowed... then stopped altogether.
For a second, silence.
Then—
He moved.
Exactly like Micah ...
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