Jordan Clarkson lingered in the locker room after the game. The off-season was fast approaching for him and his teammates, and he wanted to enjoy the postgame atmosphere for a little while longer.
He closed his eyes as he relaxed in front of his locker, contemplating all that he had accomplished this year, as well as all that his team had failed to accomplish in the same time. When he finally opened his eyes again, an unexpected visitor was standing in front of him.
“Kobe, what’s up man?” asked Jordan. His voice was casual, but inside, he still got extremely excited whenever he had a chance to be around one of his idols.
Kobe Bryant stood wordlessly, holding a basketball in his hands. He did not move except for the minute rises and falls of his chest as he breathed. He gave no indication that he had heard or understood Jordan’s greeting.
Taking a closer look at Kobe’s face, Jordan notice that Kobe’s eyes had been replaced with black voids. Inside these voids swirled an electric-blue substance which constantly morphed and re-formed. His mouth was totally slack, hanging open to create an impression of gaping stupidity.
“You feeling okay, man?” Jordan asked. “You need some Gatorade or something?”
Kobe, again, did not answer Jordan’s questions. Instead, he silently held out the ball.
“Oh, you want me to have the basketball? Cool,” Jordan said uneasily, standing up and reaching out to take the ball from Kobe’s hands. But when he went to pull it away, he found that Kobe’s grip was too strong. The most he could do was hold on to it; he could not move it even a millimeter in any direction.
While Jordan held on, he took another look at Kobe’s eyes. The blue within them was glowing brighter now, and expanding to fill the blackness. Such was the brightness of the glow that Jordan instinctively wanted to look away, to protect his own eyes from damage. Instead, he locked eyes with Kobe, feeling the blue light-beams enter his retinas directly.
The room started to shake around them. Jordan tried to move, tried to break the connection, but he was stuck in place. The ball that they both gripped began to pulse as if it had a consciousness of its own, and Jordan’s hands seemed to be stuck to it, compelled by a force of an almost magnetic nature. For how long they stood there, Jordan did not know. Through it all, Kobe did not move, did not blink, did not utter a sound. Jordan himself tried to cry out, but his voice had been silenced.
Jordan knew it was over when the whites returned to Kobe’s eyes. Jordan let his hands drop off the shared basketball.
“Kobe, what…what happened?” he asked, somewhat surprised that he could speak again.
Kobe’s calm demeanor did not seem appropriate to the weird occurrences that had just taken place. “what do you mean, what happened? I just walked in here to congratulate you on your good game,” he said, smiling.
“Oh. Well, thanks,” Jordan replied awkwardly. What was going on?
“You’re going to be a star some day,” Kobe said, voice flat with seriousness. “There’s a lot of me in your game.”
Jordan nodded wordlessly.
“Anyway, I gotta get going. Keep it up, rook.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Jordan responded. He didn’t feel any different, but he was sure that some sort of power transfer had occurred between him and Kobe. What would this mean for his game? He would see.