MVP's

Kenny stayed on his knees, the weight of the loss crushing down on him. His chest heaved with every breath, the exhaustion and disappointment overwhelming him. The finality of it all hit him like a ton of bricks—the season was over. He had given everything he had, poured every ounce of his energy into this game, and it still hadn't been enough. His hands trembled as he pulled his jersey over his face, trying to block out the sight of the Warriors celebrating their victory.

For a moment, he wanted to disappear, to sink into the floor and let the arena swallow him whole. But as the noise of the crowd began to filter through his despair, he lowered his jersey slightly, just enough to peek out. He glanced over at the stands, and his eyes locked onto a familiar group.

Arell, Geoffrey, Malik, and the rest of his crew were all standing, their hands coming together in a slow, deliberate clap. Their faces were filled with pride, not disappointment. They weren't looking at him with pity or sadness; they were acknowledging his fight, his heart, his refusal to back down.

Kenny's breath caught in his throat. The sight of them standing there, clapping for him despite the loss, made the crushing weight on his shoulders lighten just a little. He could see the respect in their eyes, the support they were giving him even in defeat. It was a reminder that he wasn't alone in this.

Slowly, Kenny pushed himself to his feet. The exhaustion was still there, the disappointment still heavy in his heart, but he could stand tall. He wiped the sweat from his brow, his eyes scanning the arena one last time before focusing on his teammates. They had fought hard, and despite the loss, they had given everything they had. He walked over to them, pulling each of them into a hug.

The Skyhawks gathered in the locker room, the atmosphere subdued but filled with a sense of pride. Coach Stevens stood in the center, his voice calm and steady as he addressed the team.

"Fellas, I know this isn't how we wanted it to end," Coach began, his eyes moving from player to player. "But I couldn't be more proud of each and every one of you. You left everything on that court tonight. You fought like warriors, and that's something no one can take away from you."

The team nodded, absorbing the coach's words.

"You've all come a long way," Coach Stevens continued. "And Kenny, you especially—you carried us tonight. You've been a leader on and off the court, and I want you to know how much that means to this team."

Kenny nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. He didn't have the words to express what he was feeling, but the look in his teammates' eyes told him they understood.

After a few more words from Coach Stevens and some heartfelt congratulations among the players, they made their way back to the court for the post-game ceremony. The Warriors were already gathering at center court, their smiles wide as they celebrated their victory. The Skyhawks lined up across from them, standing tall as they waited for the presentations to begin.

The announcer's voice boomed through the arena, calling out the names of the Warriors players as they stepped forward to receive their championship medals. The crowd erupted in cheers, acknowledging the new champions of the G League. The Skyhawks watched with respect, clapping for their opponents who had fought just as hard for this moment.

As the final medal was handed out and the Warriors lifted the championship trophy, the focus shifted to the individual awards. The announcer's voice echoed through the arena once more, listing off the accolades for the tournament. The tension in the air growing as everyone waited for the final and most prestigious award—the G League Playoffs MVP.

"And now, the moment you've all been waiting for," the announcer's voice rang out. "The 2015 G League Playoffs MVP, the player who showed extraordinary skill, leadership, and determination throughout the playoffs…"

Kenny's heart pounded in his chest as the words hung in the air. He could feel the eyes of the crowd on him, the anticipation building.

"The MVP of the 2015 G League Playoffs is… Kenny Valery of the College Park Skyhawks!"

The arena exploded in cheers as Kenny's name was called. For a moment, Kenny was frozen in place, his mind struggling to process what had just happened. The disappointment of the loss was still fresh, but now it was mixed with a sense of validation, of recognition for everything he had poured into this season.

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Three days before the Billboard Awards.

The Atlanta sun beat down mercilessly on Arell's back as he heaved another load of debris into the dumpster. Sweat trickled down his temple, leaving streaks in the dust that clung to his skin. He paused for a moment, surveying the strip mall before him and all the workers moving about.

A cool breeze carried the faint scent of jasmine, drawing Arell's attention to his X5 parked nearby. India reclined in the passenger seat, her hand absently tracing circles over the slight swell of her belly. At eight weeks pregnant, the bump was barely noticeable.

As he approached the car, India's eyes lit up with a mischievous glint. "You know," she began, her voice tinged with amusement, "for someone with millions in the bank, you're surprisingly light on the bling."

Arell chuckled, gesturing to the delicate white gold chain adorning India's neck. "What do you call that?"

India's fingers brushed against the small diamond pendant. "This? This is hardly anything. Don't you have like, what, 3 million in the bank?"

"I don't really money in a bank to be exact but…two," Arell corrected, leaning against the car door. "Though, my net worth is close to 10 so you have a point."

India's eyebrows shot up. "10 Million? How'd you manage that?"

Arell ticked off his assets on his fingers. "Well, there's this beauty," he patted the X5 affectionately, "Infinity is worth a good bit, my house is worth a cool mil, and I've got alot in stocks and other investments."

India looked confused. "Still that doesn't make sense." She said, a perplexed expression contorting her face. "Ten million is a lot and in five months only?"

Arell chuckled. "A big part of it has to do with investments to be honest, a lot of short selling, Tesla, Amazon, Netflix, a lot of early stage startups, there's this thing called crypto currency as well, have you heard of it?"

India fell silent, her eyes drifting as he pondered. "I think I've heard of it." She finally answered.

"Right, well it's value tends to fluctuate often, so we'd wait on a downturn, inject all the money laying around, then make a good return once the price rises." Arell explained.

India hummed. "Sounds confusing." She said innocently, which drew a round of laughter from Arell.

"Well it can be a bit… technical, actually Geoffrey's projecting it'll take off in the near future so we're putting money aside from Infinity in order to be ready when that happens." He said, leaning further onto the car to support his tired legs.

"Speaking of Infinity," India mused, "didn't you just hit 6 million in sales?"

A proud smile tugged at Arell's lips. "Yeah, plus we took out a big loan for manufacturing in Italy and Bangladesh so we could start mass producing in Italy and Bangladesh."

Well, not exactly, the loan was initially intended for exactly as he said but…

Active Quest: The Foundation

Mission: Establish the Foundation of Your Empire within 2 Months

Description:

You have two months to leverage your $6 million loan in real estate to build your path to billions.

Requirements:

Build a $50M Real Estate Portfolio:

Secure at least $50M worth of property holdings through well-executed deals, ensuring all legal and financial hurdles are cleared.

Generate $10M in Profits:

From the acquired assets, flip properties or restructure them into profitable ventures.

Achieve a $10M profit by selling or leasing out assets.

Establish Your holding company:

Formally structure a Holding company, the umbrella that will manage all of your future ventures.

Rewards:

Full Manufacturing Complex:

Five multi-purpose manufacturing facilities, fully equipped for a broad range of production needs, including textiles, electronics, machinery, and consumer goods.. Will include one year of operational costs covered—wages, utilities, and maintenance.

Knowledge of Business and Engineering:

Bachelor's level knowledge across Finance, Physics and Mechanical Engineering. +5 Intelligence.

$1M Bitcoin Portfolio:

Unlock a $1M Bitcoin portfolio.

Punishment:

Dissolution of Infinity: If the objectives are not met, Infinity, and all other entities will be dissolved, liquidated, and stripped from you.

Complete Financial Loss: You will lose all liquid assets, including real estate, profits, and investments. Any deals in progress will be reversed, and your wealth will be completely wiped out.

Long-Term Credibility Damage: Your reputation in the business world will be severely tarnished, making it nearly impossible to secure future loans, partnerships, or investments.

In any other world or any time earlier in his career he would have written this off completely and accepted impending doom, fortunately for him he had matured quite a bit, a substantial 'bit' actually. Now creating a real estate portfolio worth 50M in 2 months time? by the end of June? Impossible, but..

Geoffrey.

The very moment they had both decides to get… serious, so had they system, which was the very reasons as to why he was standing infront of this strip mall, which was now added to the growing list of properties they had bought so far.

The biggest issue they were facing would be turning 6M into 50M with tangible assets in such a short period of time. Yet the method in which they would do so was blatantly obvious, such as to the point there was no need for Geoffrey to explain it to him, just as they used Infinity as collateral to gain dept, from then on they would use that depth to attain assets that would allow them to attain more depth and so on and so forth.

With that came the problem of financial transactions and dept in itself which was where SPVs came in, they wou-

"Hellooo, Earth to Arell?" The sound of India's voice quickly cut through his ruminating.

"So…" India stared into his eyes, ensuring she had his attention. "Isn't that a bit risky?"

Arell blinked, his mind still adrift. "Maybe," he shrugged, "um, yeah, um, but the demand is there. You said it yourself, that crayon jacket sold out in a day."

A thoughtful expression crossed India's face. "You know, I've been thinking about starting my own fashion line."

She now had his full attention and he couldn't resist the chance at teasing her. "Oh yeah? Gonna call it 'India's Closet' or something?"

India swatted his arm playfully. "I'm serious, Arell. I was thinking of calling it 'Love'."

As India launched into an excited explanation of her ideas, Arell found his mind floating adrift again.

The Billboard Awards was in 3 days, a event he'd been hesitant to attend despite his nominations. Sure it would be good publicity, but he'd long ago decided to do his best at keeping distance from the Industry.

Fair Trade had climbed to number 8, and Flex steady at number 10 which was why he was nominated. Though, the competition was fierce, tough - Iggy Azalea, Hozier, Meghan Trainor, Sam Smith, that's who he was up against.

In the end it was Pharrell's multiple nominations that had ultimately swayed him to attend. Their friendship had deepened a lot, and Arell felt compelled to show his support.

A decent amount of time had passed and his rapper stats now hovered around the high 70s now.

Rapper Stats

Flow: 75

Voice: 77

Lyrics: 76

Production: 84

Performance: 84

Freestyle: 74

Songwriting: 78

And his personal stats had come along way since he left prison.

Stats

Strength: 69

Agility: 68

Stamina: 73

Durability: 71

Intelligence: 82

Charisma: 83 (+15 Boost)

There was even more good news. The mixtape was nearly complete, the features locked in. He was toying with the idea of reaching out to A$AP Rocky for a verse, but the decision remained up in the air.

His gaze drifted back to the strip mall. The potential of the place thrummed through him like an electric current. It wasn't just about the building itself, but the vision of what it could become, sure it was small in size but their was a lot of land for expansion. The 150k he'd spent felt was a steal. A great neighborhood, lack of crime-

"Doesn't stop you from having a buttload of security though, does it?" India's voice cut through his musings.

Arell blinked, realizing he must have spoken his thoughts aloud. He glanced around, aware of all the inconspicuous security that dotted around the perimeter. To the untrained eye, they looked like ordinary people going about their day.

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Can't be too careful, right?"

India nodded, her expression softening. "So, tell me more about this place. What's your grand vision?"

Arell's eyes lit up as he began to outline his plans. "I want it to be a space that fosters creativity. Think art shops next to tech businesses, with a sprinkle of boutique shops and gourmet cafes. A place where people can work, shop, and be inspired."

"Sounds ambitious," India mused, a hint of admiration in her voice.

"That's just the beginning," Arell continued. "Once Infinity hits 10 million in sales and I get that bonus from Puma, I'm looking at buying out some of the surrounding apartment complexes. Create a real community." Which was the truth, while these complexes were decent they weren't exactly part of their 'real estate quest plans'. They'd be bought at a later date.

At the mention of Puma, India perked up. "How's that going, by the way? The shoe deal?"

Arell's grin widened. "They've started producing the colorway. It's got One of a Kind ingrained on it too. We're still in the design phase for my personal shoe line, but it's coming along. I'm pushing for a bigger stake in that collaboration, though. We're bringing a lot to the table on the design side."

India nodded, her hand absently rubbing her belly. "And the sports collaboration?"

"Just launched," Arell replied. "Mostly workout shirts and pants for now. It's not huge yet, but we're laying the groundwork."

…

The scorching May sun beat down on Kenny's back as he dragged a heavy tire across the backyard. Sweat poured down his face, muscles screaming in protest. From the sidelines, a voice cut through the air.

"Come on, young blood! You telling me that tire's too heavy for you? I used to do this with two tires, no problem!"

Kenny glanced over at Darius Miles, at 33, Miles still looked like he could suit up and dominate on any given night. But life had taken him down a different path, from NBA stardom to financial troubles, and now to coaching.

"Almost... there... Coach," Kenny grunted, pushing through the final few yards.

Miles nodded approvingly as Kenny finally dropped the tire. "That's what I'm talking about. Now let's see that jumper of yours."

As Kenny caught his breath, Miles tossed him a ball. "Show me that form we've been working on. And none of that streetball nonsense. I want textbook technique."

Kenny began his shooting routine, focusing on the fundamentals Miles had drilled into him over the past weeks. Elbow in, follow-through crisp, landing softly.

"Better," Miles commented. "But you're still rushing it sometimes. Remember, you don't have to prove anything to anyone out there. Play your game, not what you think they want to see."

Kenny absorbed the advice, knowing it came from hard-earned experience. Miles had entered the league straight out of high school, all potential and promise. But injuries and off-court issues derailed what should've been a stellar career.

"Let's run some pick-and-roll," Miles said, stepping onto the court. Even in just shorts and a tank, his movements were fluid, graceful. "I'll be the big. You read the defense and make the right play."

They worked through various scenarios, Miles constantly pushing Kenny to think one step ahead. "You've got the athleticism," he'd say. "Now we've got to elevate that basketball IQ."

After about an hour of drills, Miles called for a water break. As Kenny gulped down Gatorade, he noticed Geoffrey approaching, phone in hand and a measured expression on his face.

"Kenny," Geoffrey called out. "There's someone on the line who'd like to speak with you."

Kenny jogged over, curiosity piqued. Geoffrey handed him the phone with a subtle nod.

"Hello?" Kenny said, slightly winded.

"Kenny? This is John Winters, scout for the Milwaukee Bucks."

Kenny's eyes widened, and he mouthed "Bucks" to Miles, who nodded in approval.

"Yes, sir. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Kenny managed, trying to keep his voice steady.

"We've been monitoring your progress since your impressive G-League performance," Winters continued. "We'd like to invite you for a workout next week. Would you be interested in such an opportunity?"

"Absolutely, sir," Kenny replied, heart racing. "I'd be honored to showcase my skills for your organization."

"Excellent. We'll be in touch with the details. Looking forward to seeing what you can bring to the table."

As Kenny ended the call, Geoffrey's expression remained composed, but there was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "That's not all," he said, pulling up some voice messages on his phone. "I've also received inquiries from the Knicks and 76ers. Your performances have garnered significant attention, Kenny. They're all eager to evaluate your abilities firsthand."

Miles walked over, curiosity evident. "What's the word?"

Kenny filled him in, excitement bubbling over. Miles nodded, pride and caution in his eyes.

"That's a positive development, no doubt," Miles said. "But don't get it twisted. You still got work to do. The combine's coming up end of May - that's where you really make your mark."

Geoffrey added. "The Bucks, in particular, seem to hold you in high regard. They have a reputation for nurturing young talent. Their Greek player from a couple of years ago is beginning to make waves in the league."

"Giannis," Miles said. "Yeah, he's gonna be a beast. But focus on your own journey, K. You've got your own path to forge."

Kenny nodded, mind racing with possibilities. "What do you think my prospects are, Coach? Of being drafted?"

Miles considered for a moment. "Based on raw talent? You're first-round material, easy. But the league's evolved since my playing days. They're looking for more than just potential. They need to know you can contribute immediately, that you comprehend the game at a professional level."

He placed a hand on Kenny's shoulder. "That's why we're here. By draft night, you'll be prepared. But it's going to demand everything you've got. Are you ready for that level of commitment?"

Kenny met Miles' gaze, determination etched on his face. "I've never been more prepared for anything in my life."

"That's the attitude I like to see," Miles grinned. "Now let's get back to work. NBA dreams don't materialize by merely discussing them."

As they jogged back to the court, Kenny's mind swirled with visions of draft night. But he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the present. There'd be time for dreams later. Right now, it was time to put in the work.

The remainder of the afternoon passed in a blur of drills, scrimmages, and strength training. Miles pushed Kenny relentlessly, sharing insights from his own career - both the triumphs and the pitfalls.

As the sun began to set, Kenny felt a deep sense of satisfaction mixed with exhaustion. Every muscle ached, but he knew he was improving each day.

Miles gathered Kenny's water bottle and towel, handing them over with a nod. "Solid work today, young blood. You're making progress."

Kenny gulped down water gratefully. "Thanks, Coach. I feel like I'm starting to perceive the game differently."

Miles smiled. "That's what it's about. The physical gifts - you already possessed those. Now we're honing that basketball IQ, teaching you to think the game like a pro."

As they walked back towards the house, Miles continued, "The combine's gonna be crucial. You'll be competing against top college prospects, players who've been on the NBA radar for years."

Kenny nodded, a hint of nervousness creeping in. "What should I anticipate?"

"It's an intense experience," Miles replied honestly. "Physical assessments, skills evaluation, scrimmages, team interviews. They measure everything - height, wingspan, body composition. And that's just the beginning."

He patted Kenny on the back. "But don't let it intimidate you. You belong there with the elite. Stay focused, showcase your abilities, and let your game speak for itself."

As they reached the patio, Geoffrey was waiting with protein shakes and some documents. "How did the training session go?" he asked.

"The young man is progressing," Miles answered. "There's still room for improvement in terms of understanding the game, but he's on the right trajectory, infact, based on raw talent, skill, athleticism, if he gets in the right team around the right coaches…Kenny might just be able to challenge for Rookie Of The Year."