And Sterling's entry into the league was... not as he expected.

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Saturday, November 28th

Yet another day of training in the Treasure State Arena, with the lighting plan of having the old players refreshed and accustomed for the regime of the season to come as well for the new guys to do whatever it took to get on a pro level as quick as they could. With the new acquisitions and the plans going upward, the confidence level was high… maybe a bit too high.

One of the Howlers’ new gets sure thought he had it all figured out. They couldn’t deny he was dedicated, that he knew his workouts and his game, and overall made it count when it mattered so far. Big issue? His big head. That polecat oozed a swagger that easily turned into arrogance at times. Double edged sword: They didn’t have to babysit, but damn if his “unhazeable” statute and smartassery weren’t frustrating some of his teammates. It was deep in the afternoon, the stingray was laying back on a stationary bike having his peculiar post training snack to recover energy. Not far away the badger approached the water fountain to refill his bottle. He couldn’t hold back a slight sneer at the sound of muffled heavy metal music as the polecat passed by to deposit the dumbbells he had on their rack, off to use the cardio machines. He looked to his aquatic teammate, taking the bike next to him to sit down, letting his dreads out.

“Fuckin hell man, can ya believe that lil shit?”

“OI mate! I waited too damn long, and dis kid gon pull dat BS. Fuck im!”

“Rule number 1, you work hard and he do, but Rule number 2 you dun pull the swagger to yer superiors.” The mustelid buried his face in his sweat towel. “Like we get it, you good, but you ain’t no last fuckin’ Coke on the desert.”

“Mate don’t wanna fetch bags or water and we gotta shut up and deal ‘less he slacks off… but still, lesson is lesson and he needs to get ‘is arse and get it good!”

“Right, Bob, but what now?” There was this silence, only cut by the ray as he slurped a tentacle of his snack.

“Locker o’ squid like I got ya that one time?”

“Nah man think we need ta be more at it, sumthin to shut his stank ass self…” A few seconds later, the lightbulb came on “Wait… Didn’ da new chick said sumthin bout a burger dinna she wanted ta do?”

“Yea mate, tonite, so?”

“...Think I got a good start Bob, lissen up.” Lashawn said as he whispered the details of his plan to Bobby, nodding along, getting a devilish grin at the end.

“Right… But ya kno I gotta do that one, mate… C‘mon, it’ll be nice! Imagine his stank face!”

Lashawn sighed. “Ya mental, Bob, but what the hell? Stop at mah crib at sunset to get the shit. This is gon fuckin rock...”


As some of the players got back to their homes to rest, others decided to go to Bailey’s place, which he offered to Kresta to hook her up with a place to get the grill started and the good times swinging. The rookies were there, as well as Bobby Rae and LaShawn who “just wouldn’t miss it for anythin.”

“How they cookin, sheila?” The stingray asked to Kresta.

“Oh, So far so good. Bobby. Still got the Lucy touch. I do admit I lost count of where was the loaded one...But all in all, all done, just coolin' down and then good to go!” she smiled.

“Say, why not go fetch a drink and take a break? Get to know your crew better?”

“You know, yeah. All left to do for most of them is to cool down...Mind if you put the last two? Is just a quick turn.”

“Bah no sweat sheila. I can flip a squid, I can flip a patty. Go on and ave a blast!” the ray insisted to the vixen, who complied after giving him a rundown. Eyeing the badger, who got close to the grill, getting a Tupperware from the cooler he brought unbeknownst to the rest.

“Ya got it, mate?”

“Just like we made it!” he quipped, opening it up, getting their own patty in the grill. Sure it was a stuffed patty like Kresta’s… only a bit more loaded with more than just Habanero seeds...

“Stinks’ gonna love this...”

Their little experiment managed to succeed and look like all of the other burgers. The badger sorted out the plates, making sure the special one got to his paws. It was a matter of time until they heard polecat wretching and swearing.

“Jävla fan!”

Everyone immediately turned to Sterling, running to the bathroom, spitting the contents out. Well, everyone except a stingray and a badger, losing it on laughter at the sight, offering to go over to “check.”

“Oi, ya good mate?” Bobby didn't even bother to mask the laughter.

“The FUCK was in there?!” he yelled.

“My lunch, mate! Special Squid surprise baked into that patty!”

“Plus some soap for yer nasty ass mouth. You gotta cut it off on the swearing, kid.” The badger was grinning through all the ordeal.

“Fuck ya!” he replied, cleaning his mouth on the sink, coughing up a storm.

“That's what ya get for thinkin you invincible. You might be good, but you still a rook, mate. Now c’mon, man up. A bit of squid hasn't killed any guy!”

“Betta cut on the hot shit attitude or they'll be more where dat come from, kid. Call it tough lessons or whatever the fuck.”

“Goddammit both... of ya…” He fell for the trap.

“You gon comply? Gon say you got hazed to the fellas?” Lashawn patted the mustelid’s back, albeit roughly.

“Yah yah, whatever… the fuck...” he shot a glare at his teammates before returning to the back yard, spilling the details to the group. Some shaking their heads or plain out laughing, even if the vixen was a bit miffed, though. They got him, can’t deny it.

Kresta wondered. “Wait… if he didn't get the Habanero one, who did?”

No one knew until Ricardo, the barbary lion, approached the vixen once the soireé was over and lauded her “spicy latin flare on the grill, her ingredients were spot on Puerto Rico soulful” Well, at least someone’s day was made by her burgers in a good way.

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Tuesday, December 1st

Of all the games, he knew this one was coming sooner or later. But he never would have guessed it was THIS close. Dedicating weeks of training for this moment. It was time for a lesson to be delivered, a debt to be reclaimed and a game to be killed…

...Only it wasn’t...

At the five point deficit on the first half, Sterling’s rage got the best of him. Sure, gave him the extra push to get a slamming dunk and a timely block, but his accuracy suffered. Aggressive passing led to getting the ball stolen, risky shots meant missed opportunities, and fouls came and went. While his game was decent enough, the scoreboard, the most important element, cemented the worst case scenario. Expectations, pressure and perceptions led to a preseason loss.Great combine, great Howlereen, guessed third time was the charm. But why the fuck did THIS one had to be the charm?

The polecat was fuming on the inside, ready to head out, albeit managing to keep it bottled as the players from between teams greeted each other. When Vincent asked him about how he felt about the game (as blunt as a 8-wheeler car crash), close to the exit of the court, he couldn’t keep it any longer. Especially to their Jersey-imported vet Center.

“You get on the most fucking corrupt team in the league, as far as their story goes, and for you to just shrug the story off and ignore that corruption you knew it happened, coming from the fucking Pride nonetheless… I mean that’s wrong it upsets me. Freewell’s the fakest fucking player I’ve ever seen….”

And speak of the devil, because Aisha Card and Lance Freewell walked by. He heard of this Pride player kid on Montana, so he had to see him first hand, managing to catch his musings. “...Like, bein here ain’t the bad thing. The worst thing is that you don't even try to pressure for the right thing and ya just ignore it? Fakest fucker alive.”

The clouded leopard parted ways with his opossum teammate, approaching the long-haired mustelid. “Hey, rook good game.” he patted the polecat’s back, turning to face him. “But food for thought, trash talking the other team’ll bring ya bad karma, so try to keep it DL man...”

And whatever Sterling had containing him snapped the instant he was acknowledged by Lance. “I don’t fucking care what you think, you shoulda just fuck off like you told your team! If ya had the chance at doing the right thing and didn't even bother, you shoulda just scram and fuck off.”

Lance was taken aback at the burst. “Excuse me kid? Dunno what you talkin’ abo-”

“You damn well do, as a Pride you should! You can give justice to Ferdinand and you cowered up. Fuck off!”

Lance had to think about it at first, but the surname and the species eventually rang a bell. He could tell why he was pissed, but… what does that have to do with him? He didn’t exactly choose to play with the Keystones, and he thought that was water under the bridge. “Kid, whatever happened is all in the past, It sucked, but it ain’t no matter of mine. The way you talking is kinda disrespectful and migh-”

“I’m not being fucking disrespectful, I’m being honest! This whole time I didn’t wanna be rude and all like ‘Hey Lance, you a fucking traitor, ya being a fucking disrespectful bastard!’”

“I’m not, at this point right now, you are, rook.”

“I’m disrespectful cuz I’m bein honest?!”

“The way you talkin’ ain’t respectful kid. Frankly that ain’t my issue to spearhead… Right now, the only people that I should pay my dues right now is with my current team. And that’s fine...”

“Fine… So a fucking corrupt management is “fine”... Glad you aren't on the Pride no longer...”

“Right now, I just need The Stones and Mr. Quintaux at this moment. It is the business, you get traded and move on and in the end, it’s whatever kid, go with the flow.” he waved, but got a faceful of middle finger from the Jersey kid.

“I don't- I don't care, traitor. Fuck off!” he yelled as he flipped the veteran player off and went away. He needed out of the place right now. What the polecat didn't count on was the cameras managed to catch the whole event, and when it got wind, it spread up like wildfire.

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Wednesday, December 2nd

He didn’t view his phone, he didn't see any news, he didn’t open any messages; the only contact he had was with his Team Manager, clearly upset at the ordeal, booking him a flight to New York City while the rest of the team went away to San Jose for their next game, making him keep radio silence for the time being. He knew the place like his pawpads, so he arrived to the direction from LaNutria Airport fairly easy.

“Mr. Bengtzing, glad you could arrive.” greeted Art Sadowski, albeit dryly and coldly. Understandable. The young polecat tilted his head, but didn't say anything in return as they both walked into the building, an appointment of a behavior lesson scheduled for that day and time. On the way, the canine had a lengthy stern talk of his own.

“I can’t have any more scenes like that one, Mr. Bengtzing. This is a business. No matter what you feel about others, while on public, you shut your mouth, especially in any stadium.”

Sterling kept his guard and bravado up. This wasn’t ideal and he didn't bother to hide it or care if he got across as rude. He absentmindedly twisted the doorknob and walked in the office-like room. “Whatever, let’s end this shit as soon as-”

“Någon har var upptagen...”

That voice made the mustelid freeze in the spot and immediately get concerned, shooting a piercing look at his boss. “Fuck is this? A joke?”

“Figured you needed a more resounding voice than myself or Mr O’Neill’s for now. Someone who can… help you understand the point, so to speak.” he looked over his player’s shoulder. “You may continue Mr. Bengtzing, guess it’s fair if I leave you two be.”

The atmosphere only became the more tense as the two polecats were left alone. The silence was sharp, you could feel the tension.

“What now?”

“You know what now, Sterling Eren. Sit down.” The younger polecat leaned to the wall, arms crossed. So he was going to be defiant? “Caught wind of that scene. What was that all about?”

“As far as justice goes, he failed to fucking commit. And eventually, I got ranted at for being truthful.”

“Not truthful, disrespectful. You know I taught you better and that he was traded. You know that deal is already over! You are seeking a fight that is done! Understand kid!”

“And what the fuck I am supposed to do?! Pretend it didn't happen like the rest of the fucking world?! Lie if I am fucking asked? You know it isn’t done as much as it’s swept under the fucking rug!”

Ferdinand sighed, okay, safety change to Swedish, this could easily turn in leaking of crucial info. ((“Sterling, we talked about this. That page of my life has passed… We are good now. And even if that wasn’t the case, yelling and making a fool out of yourself isn’t going to work in the long run!”))

The son changed to Swedish without missing a beat. ((“Well sorry for not smiling and nodding, because I want this cause to end? For saying how it really was? I ain’t going around stroking my ego and be afraid. I am not going to pretend to not be myself.”))

((“I’m not asking you tha-”))

((“You are.”))

Ferdinand took a deep breath, closing his eyes. ((“I’m not askin-”))

((“Name change at Eurobasket camps? Pretending I wasn’t your kid to scouts?”))

((“We agreed that was for fair judgeme-”))

With a swift movement of his hand, Sterling lifted up his shirt, flashing his stomach scars to his father. He only let a glare speak for himself.

Ferdinand stuttered. ((“You… You know what could happen if that gets out...”))

((“But what if it doesn't? This web of lies and extortion you created is fucking up with me. Can't we just quit i-”))

((“THAT IS OUT OF THE QUESTION, STERLING EREN!”))

While he tried to put his best poker face, he instinctively flinched and lowered his ears at the sight of his father angry. The elder polecat stepped up; they were face to face now.

((“All that. Eighteen years of deals, pain and work, all of this... is to protect you, Sterling… you and your future. If this gets out, you'll get expelled, let alone put us in trouble and you'll go through the same shit that I did. Do you really want that?”))

Sterling had nothing to say. In one paw, a successful FBA career was everything he desired, pretty much the only thing he absolutely wanted. But at the price of being secretive of himself? Of going against his own morale of honesty Ferdinand taught him? Then again being honest about that could have consequences. He did go through and agreed to everything his dad said, having his career in mind. The polecat got both his hands to his head, the conflict beginning to give him a migraine. ((You told me to be truthful!))

((“I want you to succeed, and blabbing about that can fuck you up, and you know it! Listen...”)) Ferdinand sighed. ((“...This is for your best. I want you to present yourself the best way you can, both attitude and every other factor. In this league you have to make sacrifices… and that sometimes includes secrets...”))

The younger polecat shot a scowl at his father. ((“I can have a fucking great career with my own path...”))

((“You want to have a long and successful career here? Then you do what I tell you. Straighten up, clean up the act. I don't want to have this talk again. You know better, Sterling Eren...”))

With one last stare, Sterling turned his back. “I'm done with you…” he muttered as he walked to the door. “Gettin’ out, fuck this shit. Just want to play my next fucking game...”

Ferdinand went from stern to concerned. It seems Sterling got the message, but there was this nagging feeling. “Kid?” the elder mustelid interjected, his son’s ears perking at his voice, not bothering to turn around.

“Good game out there…Win or lose I am proud you are in the league...”

He waved in dismissal of his dad’s comments and walked away, forcingly closing the door behind him. He felt anger, he felt angst, but mostly… impotence… maybe his dad was right? I mean, he never hurted him and he always admired him over everyone else… maybe his way was the way… But fuck if it didn’t hurt. He taught him to be all he could, but in a way, he told him that to succeed he couldn't be him. Fuck… headache. Can’t deal with that any longer. He couldn’t wait to head out and return to the courts again, let this shit slide, away from his dad, away from all.

((“Damnit… I hope this is the right thing… yes? Yes...”)) Ferdinand muttered to himself, alone in the room.