Marvel: My Symbiote System

When the group arrived at the court, the sidelines were already packed with people. Some had come specifically to see the spectacle, drawn by the event's buzz, while others were there because Flash had invited them to cheer him on.

Seeing the scene, Gwen and the others couldn't help but glance at Ethan. Ethan noticed their looks but remained unfazed, his expression cool as he surveyed the crowd, unaffected by the noise around him.

His calm demeanor reassured the others, who quickly joined in to cheer him on.

"Ethan, you've got this! I know you can beat Flash!" Gwen called out with genuine encouragement.

Ethan smiled at her words and replied, "I was feeling a bit uncertain, but now, with your support, I feel ready to take on anything!"

He flashed a thumbs-up, looking both serious and genuinely moved.

Gwen chuckled, covering her mouth to hide her smile. "In that case, you better put in the work. If you don't win, don't come crying to me for not cheering loud enough."

Ethan laughed at her teasing, enjoying the lighthearted moment. It was the perfect way to start building a connection with the group.

Just then, a thought crossed his mind. He cleared his throat and walked over to Gwen.

Noticing his approach, Gwen turned to face him.

Looking into her bright eyes, Ethan grinned and said, "How about we make this more interesting? Let's play a little game."

Gwen tilted her head, intrigued. "What kind of game?"

Seeing her curiosity, Ethan explained, "Let's make a bet on how many baskets Flash will score. We'll do ten rounds. How many points do you think he'll make?"

Gwen raised an eyebrow. "Why not bet on who'll win instead? Isn't that what most people do?"

Ethan, confident as ever, shrugged. "There's no point in betting on the winner. I'm going to win for sure. So, just guess how many baskets Flash will get. The wager will be dinner—how's that sound?"

Gwen raised an eyebrow, surprised by his confidence. "You're that sure of yourself? Looks like I'm about to get a free dinner."

"Alright then, I'll say Flash scores three baskets," Gwen decided after a moment's thought. She figured that no matter how skilled Ethan was, it'd be tough to stop Flash from scoring at least once. Three points felt like a risky yet reasonable guess.

"Three points?" Ethan teased, raising an eyebrow. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. But I'm even more certain—I'm betting Flash won't score a single point."

Gwen blinked in disbelief. Flash was the star player of the school team. Even if Ethan could win, completely shutting out Flash seemed impossible.

"You're seriously underestimating Flash, Ethan. I can already taste that dinner," Gwen said with a shake of her head.

She believed in Ethan's ability to win, but the idea of a 10–0 scoreline was completely absurd.

Meanwhile, Flash, who was warming up on the court, noticed Ethan chatting with Gwen.

He tossed the ball to one of his lackeys and swaggered over. "Well, well! The cowardly yellow dick actually showed up. I thought you'd be crying your way back home to Mommy by now," Flash sneered, using exaggerated gestures and foul language to get under Ethan's skin.

Ethan gave him a cold stare, saying nothing. Flash, not getting a reaction, raised his voice, shouting even louder, "What's the matter, lil' dick? Too scared to talk?"

"Pfft! Puahahaha!"

Suddenly, Ethan burst into laughter, completely catching everyone off guard—Gwen and her group included. Flash, especially, looked utterly confused.

No one could figure out why Ethan had suddenly started laughing.

"Sorry, sorry, I just remembered something," Ethan said, trying to suppress his laughter. "I once read an article that said when someone yells really loudly, their anus opens and closes with each shout. Once I thought of that, I just couldn't help myself. My bad."

His eyes returned to Flash, whose face had darkened to a point where it looked like he might explode.

"My apologies, Mr. Lightning," Ethan said with mock sincerity. "I didn't mean to interrupt your performance. I'm usually a very polite person and would never laugh, no matter how funny something is—unless I absolutely couldn't hold it in."

The crowd around them had overheard Ethan's remark. Thinking back to Flash's earlier shouting, someone couldn't hold it in and let out a snort. "Pfft!"

That triggered a chain reaction, and soon, the entire court was filled with waves of laughter.

Gwen, standing beside Ethan, was laughing so hard she nearly doubled over. She hadn't expected Ethan to have such a sharp tongue.

Flash, fighting to control his anger amid the surrounding laughter, leaned in close to Ethan and said in a low voice, "I hope your basketball skills are as sharp as your mouth."

Ethan chuckled and replied, "And I hope your basketball skills don't stink as much as your mouth does."

With that, the trash talk came to an end, and the game was about to begin.

Flash got the first possession, and Ethan took up his defensive stance.

Flash dribbled the ball confidently, his hands quick and his feet light as he made his moves.

Ethan kept his arms wide, playing tight defense.

Flash maneuvered skillfully, trying to break through as he pushed toward the paint.

It seemed like Ethan was struggling to keep up, and a small gap opened in his defense.

Seizing the moment, Flash executed a quick crossover and blew past Ethan.

With Ethan trailing behind him, Flash leaped for a powerful dunk, ready to release all his frustration. He even shouted as he prepared to slam the ball through the hoop.

But what Flash didn't notice was the sly smile curling on Ethan's face—or the shadow rapidly closing in behind him.

Smack!

A sharp, crisp sound echoed across the court as Ethan's hand swatted the ball out of midair, completely shattering Flash's dream of a highlight-reel dunk.

As both players landed, Ethan flashed a grin at Flash and said, "Nice shout back there. Keep it up, yeah?"

"Damn it!" Flash cursed under his breath. Was this damn Chinese player really able to jump that high? Flash realized with frustration that Ethan's jumping ability and strength were at least on par with his own—maybe even better.

Now fully focused, Flash started to strategize. 'His speed wasn't that great earlier; that's why I was able to get past him. If I focus on my speed, I can definitely beat him.'

With Flash's attack thwarted, it was now Ethan's turn to go on offense.

Ethan dribbled the ball steadily, all while taunting Flash as he moved. "That was your first attempt... and also your last. You won't get another chance, poor Flash."

Ethan's last words came out in a mocking, baby-like tone, pushing the insult as far as it could go.

Though furious, Flash didn't dare respond. He knew that splitting his attention could give Ethan the opening he needed to score.

In his mind, Flash reasoned that Ethan's constant trash talk only highlighted his lack of speed. If Ethan were fast, he wouldn't need to run his mouth to get an advantage.

Ethan stopped speaking and suddenly lunged to the left. Flash immediately followed suit.

But it was a feint. Ethan quickly pulled back, then executed a devastating crossover. Flash, caught off guard, lost his footing and stumbled to the ground, completely outmaneuvered.

From the sidelines, everyone assumed this was Ethan's chance to drive to the basket for an easy layup.

But then, Ethan did the unexpected. Instead of driving forward, he stepped back—way back—to the center of the court, right on top of the big Midtown High logo painted on the floor.

The crowd murmured in disbelief.

"What is he doing?"

"Is he really going to shoot from the logo?"

"Does he think he's an NBA superstar? How ridiculous!"

Some of the spectators started hurling insults, mocking Ethan for being overconfident.

Flash, who had scrambled back to his feet, stood still, waiting confidently. He was certain Ethan would embarrass himself with a missed shot. But Ethan, now positioned on the logo, showed no hesitation. He jumped with ease and released the ball with perfect form.

Despite the long distance, his movement was smooth, as though the shot required no extra effort from him.

The basketball traced a beautiful arc through the air, heading straight for the hoop.