Extra Basket-Chapter 96 - 83: Syndicate Arc (6)

Ethan picked up a busted mop handle from the floor, turned around, and faced the advancing group. His knuckles went white around the grip.

He could feel them drawing closer.

Then—

Movement. At the far back.

Not one of the henchmen.

No.

Something still. Watching.

A tall figure, face half-hidden in shadow. Not rushing like the others. Just standing there, observing, the glint of unnatural focus in his eyes.

"Let them run. The game’s just starting."

Ethan’s blood chilled.

"ETHAN!" Brandon called from inside the shaft.

Ethan snapped out of it and dove into the opening just as the henchmen lunged. One grabbed at his shoe—Ethan kicked free and slammed the grate shut behind them.

Darkness. Dust. The sound of heavy breathing.

Brandon lit the flashlight on his phone. "What the hell was that back there?"

Ethan didn’t answer at first. He just stared into the black behind them.

"Someone... was there," he whispered.

.....

As the metal grate echoed shut behind Ethan, the hallway outside fell quiet. The last of the footsteps faded into the echoing gloom—except for one pair.

Measured. Heavy. Calm.

Mr. Charles Freeman stepped forward from the shadows, his face half-illuminated by a flickering wall light. His gray polo was immaculate, and the whistle still hung around his neck like a badge of authority long corrupted.

The former coach—now principal of Pacific Ridge Middle School—approached the maintenance shaft, the place Ethan and Brandon had slipped into just seconds earlier. His shadow stretched long and distorted on the floor, like a stain that refused to fade.

He didn’t shout. He didn’t chase.

He simply stared at the open shaft.

A faint smirk curled across his lips.

"So... he’s here, huh?" Charles muttered. "Ethan Albarado. The one who keeps getting in the way. A hindrance to everything we’ve built."

Behind him, one of his henchmen—approached. "Sir, should we chase them down?"

Charles didn’t even look back. "No. Let them squirm for a bit. The shaft doesn’t go far. But I want them to feel the pressure. Let them taste fear."

He turned toward the camera in the corner of the hallway—an old surveillance system still partially active.

"This is just like Pacific Ridge. Back in San Diego." he whispered. "The stage is different... but the game? The game is always the same."

He exhaled slowly.

"And This I will not lose"

..

[Lucas side]

Louie gritted his teeth and shouted under his breath, "Let’s go!!"

His voice cracked—not from fear, but urgency. For him, this wasn’t just about danger. It was about Ethan.

The only person who ever treated him like a little brother.

Louie didn’t have siblings. Just his grandma back home, always working long hours and saving what little she could. But Ethan? Ethan taught him how to shoot smoothly. How to dribble efficiently. How to believe in himself.

He wasn’t just a teammate. He was family.

Without waiting, Louie darted forward toward the crumbled western edge of the building, where the brick wall had long since cracked open. Vines curled along the broken frame, and a faint draft of cold air wafted from the shadows within.

"Louie—wait!" Evan called, but Lucas raised a hand.

"Let him go," Lucas said, sharp. "We’re right behind."

The three of them slipped inside, crouching low as they moved through the dark corridor. Dust coated everything. The air smelled of rust, mildew, and old water.

Somewhere deeper inside—a crash. A grunt. Then silence.

They froze.

Lucas whispered, "Ethan..."

They passed old signage:

[SITE E – WATER CONTROL – RESTRICTED ACCESS]

Louie clenched his jaw and picked up a rusted pipe from the floor. "He better be okay," he muttered.

Lucas moved up beside him, his yellow eyes focused. "We’ll make sure he is."

Suddenly, footsteps echoed ahead.

Lucas threw his arm in front of them. "Hide!"

They ducked into a side room just in time as two armed-looking henchmen jogged past, speaking in low voices.

"...I think they crawled into the maintenance shaft—sector 2B."

"...Don’t let them escape. Boss said the Carter kid stays here. The others? Do whatever."

The three held their breath until the men passed. Then Lucas turned, face serious.

(What do they mean about Carter?)

Louie looked at him, stunned. "What?"

Lucas nodded. "I can feel it. Let’s move."

Evan gripped the strap of his backpack tighter. "Then we don’t stop until we find them all."

They slipped back into the corridor—and the real mission began.

...

[Back to Ethan]

Maintenance Shaft – Beneath Site E

Clang. Clang. Shuffle.

The sound of their movement echoed in the narrow steel shaft, every motion amplified in the metal belly of the old facility.

Ethan crawled ahead, his palms scraped from the rough surface. His breath was ragged, not just from the sprint and crawl—but from the weight of it all.

Behind him, Brandon grunted as he pushed through the tight space. "This better lead somewhere, man."

Ethan nodded. "It does. I think."

Brandon huffed. "You better be right..."

A loud thud echoed behind them.

Both boys froze.

"...What was that?" Brandon whispered.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t respond—but he heard it too.

Scrape.

Thud.

Scrape.

Something—or someone—was crawling after them.

Brandon’s voice tightened. "Dude—go. GO!"

They moved faster, adrenaline kicking in. The shaft bent sharply downward and opened into a rusted grill barely hanging by its bolts.

Ethan kicked it loose—CLANG!

He dropped into the chamber below with a soft roll. Brandon followed right after, landing hard beside him.

They looked around. The chamber was dark, lined with leaking pipes and broken control panels. Old water maps were scattered across a dusty desk.

Brandon wiped his forehead. "We lose them?"

Ethan backed up slowly toward a door in the corner. "I don’t know..."

Suddenly, a voice slithered through the shaft above—low, raspy, and filled with venom.

"Well, well... Ethan Albarado."

Ethan froze mid-step.

The voice continued.

"And you... who are you?"

There was a pause—a sneer behind the words—as the unseen man peered down at Brandon.

Ethan slowly turned his head, eyes locking on the dark grate above. A sliver of light flickered, outlining the silhouette of a man crouched like a predator.

Charles Freeman.

Ethan had never seen him before.

But in that instant, something primal jolted through him— This man wasn’t just someone. He is dangerous

He was the danger.

Ethan whispered, barely audible, "...Who is that?"

Brandon didn’t answer. His fists clenched.

Charles’s voice echoed again, colder now. "I should’ve guessed you’d show up...."

Ethan snapped back to reality.

"Run."

His voice was sharp now, clear.

"Run!" he repeated, louder, grabbing Brandon’s arm.

Brandon shook his head, furious. "Not without—"

"Just go! I’ll follow!"

Behind them, something shifted in the pipes—like metal creaking underweight.

They didn’t wait to check.

Ethan and Brandon bolted down the corridor, boots slapping wet concrete as the shadows behind them stirred.

And above them, Charles Freeman watched with eerie calm.

"Run all you want," he murmured. "The ending doesn’t change."

...

The hallway above groaned under the weight of age—concrete chipped, metal pipes rattled softly in the silence.

Lucas crouched low behind a rusted generator, holding his breath.

Beside him, Louie’s eyes were wide, his fists clenched tightly. Evan peeked around the corner, tension drawn across his shoulders like a pulled string.

Then—

Voices.

Faint.

Muffled.

But close. Echoing from the shaft grates and vents below.

"Run..."

"Just go! I’ll follow!"

Louie’s heart dropped. That was Ethan.

He lurched forward.

"Let’s go!!" Louie hissed, urgency bubbling over. "He’s down there—he needs us!"

Evan grabbed his shoulder. "Wait—what if it’s a trap? We don’t even know what’s down there yet!"

Lucas narrowed his eyes, scanning the floor. Then he saw it—a loose metal grate, partly dislodged. A faint draft of cold air rose from below. Voices clearer now.

And somewhere, deeper—

Another voice. Older. Harsher.

"The ending doesn’t change"

Lucas’s blood went cold.

"That voice..." he muttered. "That’s not Ethan. That’s someone else."

Louie turned, fire in his chest. "I don’t care. Ethan’s like family to me. If he’s in trouble—I’m going."

Without waiting, he pulled the grate off with a sharp tug.

"Damn it," Evan muttered. "We’re all in now."

Lucas, murmur "Ethan...Brandon"

One by one, they descended into the dark.

..

The echo of their footfalls pounded through the narrow corridor, every breath ragged, every second counting.

Ethan ducked low under a rusted pipe as Brandon sprinted ahead, the flickering emergency lights casting warped shadows across the damp concrete.

Then—

"There they are!!"

The shout came from behind—raw, guttural.

The henchmen had spotted them.

A dozen footsteps thundered down the hallway in pursuit.

"Damn it—!" Ethan hissed, shoving Brandon forward. "Move!"

Brandon didn’t look back, but his chest heaved with panic. "We’re not gonna outrun them at this pace!"

Ahead—another junction. Left led deeper into darkness. Right... faint light.

"Right!" Ethan barked.

They turned the corner—

Only to find the hallway partially collapsed. Steel beams, rubble, shattered glass.

Blocked.

Brandon skidded to a stop. "What now!?"

Ethan scanned the area, brain racing.

Then he saw it—a maintenance door, rusted but unlocked.

"In there!"

They slammed into it, closing it behind them just as the henchmen turned the corner.

"Split up!" one shouted. "They’re boxed in!"

Ethan locked the door and backed away, breathing hard.

...

Inside the Chamber – Site E

Ethan stepped forward slowly, the flickering ceiling light buzzing above. Brandon stood frozen behind him, eyes wide.

The room reeked of antiseptic and rusted blood. Along the far wall, a row of glass containment tubes—five of them—stood upright, faintly glowing green. Inside each...

Children.

Hunched. Shackled.

Their small bodies were chained at the ankles and wrists, curled unnaturally as if molded into submission. Each had a thick metallic brace fused into the upper spine, extending wires up into their necks and skulls. IV tubes pierced their arms. A slow drip of an unknown fluid leaked into them.

Their eyes—if open—were dull, empty. Some were unconscious. Others twitched.

Brandon’s voice trembled. "What... the hell is this?"

Ethan’s heart pounded. "They’re just kids."

He took another step, studying the console beside the tubes. A cracked screen blinked with fragmented text:

PROJECT: R.E.B.O.U.N.D.

Subject #5: Status – Incomplete Integration

Age: 12

Notes: Neural sync failed. Subject exhibiting high resistance.

Ethan clenched his fists.

"They were experimenting on them..."

Brandon stared in horror. "Why? For what!?"

And then—

From the intercom above, a voice crackled again.

Charles Freeman.

"You shouldn’t have come here, Ethan Albarado. You don’t know what kind of game you’re in."

The lights dimmed.

The tubes began to hiss.

One of them started opening.

Ethan spun around, eyes darting as the tube hissed louder behind him. He stepped protectively in front of Brandon.

From the shadows at the far end of the chamber, a panel in the wall slid open silently—a hidden door. Cold air rushed in.

Charles Freeman stepped out from the darkness, the overhead light glinting off his wire-framed glasses. Calm. Controlled. Polo Dressed like a school principal, but with the presence of something far more dangerous.

Ethan’s voice came out sharp. "How did you get in?"

Charles’s smirk deepened.

"Who do you think I am?" he said, voice slow and venomous. "I created this place."

He gestured broadly to the tubes, the machines, the sickening hum of electricity behind them.

"I know every hallway. Every vent. Every escape route. There’s a door here—one you’ll never find unless you know the blueprint. This place was mine before it was abandoned."

Brandon growled, stepping forward. "You did this to those kids?! You’re insane!"

Charles didn’t blink.

"Insane?" His voice dropped. "No. I’m just a man who finally got tired of being forgotten. Of watching the Carter family rise while I was buried."

He looked at Ethan now, his eyes burning.

"You don’t even know what you’ve walked into, Ethan Albarado. This isn’t about Carter. This is about justice... my justice."

Behind Ethan, the containment tube clanked fully open.

And a weak, shackled figure collapsed onto the floor.

To be continue