From Bullets To Billions

When the head of the Billion Group finally showed up, late, of course, most of the students had already started whispering among themselves.

Some thought he might've bailed. Maybe the pressure had gotten to him, and he'd staged this whole thing just for attention, only to vanish when it really mattered. But the moment Max stepped onto the court, those rumors dissolved.

The way he walked, deliberate, head high, and the confidence radiating off him made it obvious. This wasn't someone scared of a fight. Max was calm, composed, and ready. He hadn't come here to run. He had come here to make a statement.

Even before the rest of his group reached the basketball court, which was surrounded by a tall, metal cage, Max was already moving. He walked straight up to the door and pushed it open without hesitation, stepping inside alone.

"Stay back," Max said over his shoulder, his voice steady.

Once he reached the center of the court, he paused, slipping a hand into the inside of his sleek jacket. From it, he pulled out an envelope and held it high in the air for everyone around to see. The envelope caught the attention of every pair of eyes watching from behind the fence.

On the other side, the members of Clapton High shifted on their feet, some of them clearly tempted to rush in.

But Rick raised a hand, stopping them. "Stay back," he said firmly. "Not in front of everyone. We're not doing it like that. Let him say what he's here to say."

Seeing Max step in alone had been tempting, a clear shot to catch him off guard before the others joined. They could've ambushed him, overwhelmed him fast. But Rick didn't roll like that. No matter what anyone thought of him, he had his own sense of fairness.

"I'm sure you've all heard about the little wager placed on today's event!" Max called out, turning in a slow circle so everyone could hear him. "Inside this envelope is the PIN number to the card that was handed over to Rick earlier."

Then, without breaking stride, Max began walking toward the north side of the court, toward Print and Erik, who stood just outside the boundary line.

"Thank you both for coming today," Max said, his tone more respectful now. "I appreciate it. Even though this isn't your problem, I wanted you here. To witness what's about to happen, and to act as referees, if needed."

With that, he handed the envelope over. Print was the one to take it, his expression unreadable as his fingers closed around it.

"I'll make sure this gets into the hands of the winner," Print replied, holding the envelope tightly in one hand. "And we'll make sure the loser doesn't go back on their word."

Max offered a calm smile, a glint of confidence in his eyes, before turning and walking back to the center of the cage. Once there, he cleared his throat, and with a powerful voice that echoed off the metal fences, he spoke again.

"This event is between the Bloodline Group and the Clapton High alliance!" Max declared, his voice carrying across the court. "As agreed, the losing side must disband their group, permanently."

A murmur rippled through the crowd, and Max held his hand in the air for silence.

"Everyone here is a witness to this agreement. If the losers try to go back on their word... then look to the people next to you. If they can't honor this promise now, how can you ever trust them again?"

He paused deliberately, giving the weight of his words time to settle in. The silence wasn't awkward, it was heavy. Intentional. Max was planting a seed in everyone's mind. This wasn't just a street brawl. This was something more.

Usually, when students formed alliances or groups, they did so on impulse, common goals, popularity, power. No one thought about what came after. What betrayal would mean. To most, betrayal just meant making a new enemy. But Max? He was shaping the rules before the fight even began.

"Beforehand," Max continued, "we agreed that each side would send five of their strongest. They will face off one by one. The fight ends when one gives up or is unable to continue."

A few students in the crowd nodded in anticipation. This was it, the real start.

"The winner of a match may continue to fight, but only after all five initial matchups have taken place. Each side will alternate in sending their fighters into the cage. So, Clapton," Max said, turning slightly, that same confident smirk returning to his face, "please send in your first fighter. We'll be waiting."

And with that, Max's charismatic announcement was over. He turned on his heel and made his way back to the rest of the Bloodline Group, taking his place at their side.

"The rules are quite interesting," Erik muttered, watching the others across the court.

"You think Rick or the others might try something clever?" Print asked, keeping his eyes on the Clapton group.

"The way the rules are set up," Erik said thoughtfully, "it almost makes it sound like the whole thing will keep going until there's only one person left standing. Like, theoretically, if someone was strong enough, they could just win every match back-to-back and end it all themselves."

"True," Print nodded. "But I don't think that's how it was really meant to play out. The setup almost feels too deliberate. I wonder if that was done on purpose."

He glanced over toward the Bloodline Group, who were gathered together in hushed discussion. There was a sense of strategy in the air, not just bravado.

Meanwhile, the Clapton High side had made their move. The first fighter stepped into the cage, a lean, athletic student wearing the colors of Bekert, the rival school of Konsoon.

He stood tall, his body language confident and unreadable. His hair was so short it was practically shaved, giving him a sharp, intimidating presence. He looked every bit the fighter. No wonder he was the head of his school.

"Gi," Print murmured, recognizing the name that had floated through the local circuits. "That's their first?"

Then, a slow realization passed over his face.

"I get it now," Print said. "If someone really wanted to be smart about this... they could send in a student with the sole purpose of losing. It sounds crazy, but think about it."

Erik turned toward him, curious.

"Everyone probably assumes the two strongest from each group are Rick and Max," Print continued. "They're expecting the big clash. But that doesn't mean it has to happen right away. If someone wanted to, they could send in one of their weaker members just to wear Rick down. Not to win, but to hurt him, slow him down for later."

Erik's eyes widened. "Right. And if Max goes in later, against a weakened Rick…"

"They'd have a real chance of taking him out," Print finished.

The two exchanged a knowing glance.

"It makes me wonder if the Bloodline Group structured the rules this way on purpose," Erik said. "To level the playing field a bit more. And I'm guessing Rick didn't see it coming, at least, not until now."

"But the real question is," Print muttered, narrowing his eyes at the other side of the cage, "who are the Billion Group going to send in first to test the waters?"

That question was answered the moment the cage door opened from the opposite end.

Gasps echoed through the crowd. Murmurs turned into stunned silence. Everyone stared, mouths hanging open.

Because the person stepping into the cage wasn't who anyone expected.

"Let's start this with a bang!" Max declared, his voice loud and electric.

He stepped into the cage himself.