Nathan Scott ran the length of the court, all the while one blue eye peeled to the clock that was running out of time. His teammates on the bench, along with the coaching staff were on their feet. The Boston fans were rabid with the opposing Orlando Magic up by one. It was seconds to go when the ball was passed to him. He knew the drill well as it was a stunt he had pulled one too many times throughout the years. Time seemed to stand still as he looked into the crowd. He saw the anxious eyes of his father. He saw the screaming little children who had paid hard earned allowance money to be able to afford and wear his number 23 jersey.

And then he saw someone else. He saw him. The dark and sinister eyes smiled at him, even from the stands. Nathan was ever the actor and he loved how every time he would dramatically hold the basketball in the final few seconds, playing the hero who would save the game. The man looked at his associate and laughed and then he looked down at Nathan.

"Don't even try it, punk", he mouthed.

Nathan just smirked. He was a Scott by blood and birth and no Scott had ever taken kindly to bullying. It seems his little friend had gotten it twisted along the way. The man thought he was the big boss calling all the shots. But that's where he was wrong. No man ever bullied Nathan Scott. No matter what, he was still in control of his own destiny. He had purposely taken the fall many times but only when he agreed to it. It was his call, his career, his life…not Daunte Johnson's.

The seconds ticked down but it felt like slow motion. An entire arena sat with bated breath as you could hear a pin drop where they were thousands. In such little time, Nathan Scott had a decision to make. His blue eyes never left Daunte's beady little brown ones. Who the hell did he think he was?

"Not in my house", he mouthed back, sinking the shot.

It was a beauty and it was good and it won the game. The fans went wild, including the relieved but nevertheless thrilled Scott's. Daunte's face was a mixture of shock and anger and Nathan loved both looks. He granted his normal post game victory interviews to TNT and ESPN before heading back to the locker room.

It had been the same all his life. Everyone had wanted a piece of him from the time he had been able to pick up a ball. The men idolized him, longing to play by his side and learn pointers from a legend in the making. The women threw themselves at him. They all crammed to get his picture or a few words in an interview. For Nathan, it was just another day at the office. He did his Celtics duties and after holding his family at bay, relaxed in the locker room for a much needed hot shower. Afterwards, he dressed and combed his hair, destination to one of the cities many trendy VIP clubs. But not just yet. There was someone waiting for him, lurking in the shadows.

"Well, well, well", two hands clapped. "If that wasn't the game of a lifetime."

Nathan chuckled.

"What do you expect from a future Hall of Famer?"

Daunte narrowed his eyes.

"Real cute, kid but I wouldn't go counting your chickens before the eggs hatch. Hall of Fame, my ass. You keep pulling stunts like you did tonight and I guarantee you won't make it to see the playoffs."

"You threatening me, Daunte?"

"Threat, education, warning…however you choose to take it, Scott. Just a little friendly advice from one Hall of Famer to a future Hall of Famer."

He smiled another sinister smile to intimidate Nathan but it didn't work. Nathan had been around Daunte Johnson all his life. He had been a stand out ACC Rookie of the Year, drafted the same time as Dan Scott. The men had been bitter rivals throughout their careers, retiring around the same time. The Johnson/Scott relationship had been classified at best as a love hate one. Daunte had gone on to serve on the NBA Athletic Commission. His reputation was flawless, complete with a squeaky clean "take your vitamins, eat your vegetables, say your prayers, kiss your mother" public image. But there was another side to Daunte Johnson.

He had made another career that consisted of shady business dealings. Fraud and money laundering were among his many talents. So was gambling. But his winning, toothy white smile, and surgically enhanced nose told a different story. Nathan had known his father had had brief involvement with Daunte. Money had changed hands on several occasions. In fact, the very first time Nathan ever threw a college game for Daunte had been a favor to Dan. It had gone on for years, sometimes throwing a game, sometimes simply shaving off points of a victory, never making it obvious to the fans and media. Millions were at stake and Nathan had always managed to come out on the top end of the financial stick. But the games had gotten as old and tired as Dan and Daunte. Nathan was over it. He was sick of being a pawn. Besides, they were getting too comfortable. They were starting to play him for a fool and nobody played Nathan Scott for a fool. Nothing like a little defiance to show them all who was still in charge.

"Whatever, man. Look, I don't have time for your bullshit tonight. I'm going to the club. Can I get you something? A couple of drinks, a few lap dances, maybe?" Nathan laughed as he pulled a few hundred dollar bills from his pocket and tossed them Daunte's way. "Hey, it's on me tonight. Looks like you might not be able to afford it."

"You fucking with me, Scott? Look, kid, I admire the balls your old man never had but now ain't the time for your mess. You're in over your head. You do what you're told, when you're told."

"Or what?"

Daunte smirked as he rubbed his hands together.

"You're a good looking kid at the top of your game having the time of your life. Too bad if that should all come to a sudden end. Let's see…where shall I start? Oh, I know. How about an anonymous official report hand delivered to the president of the League documenting all your gambling debts? Or what about all the income you have concealed from the IRS? Last time I checked, tax evasion was a felony. It'd be a real shame if you were banned from the NBA for life or worse, a pretty boy like yourself behind bars in a federal prison."

"Is that supposed to scare me?"

"I don't know. Are you scared?"

Nathan just shook his head.

"You're nothing but a low down, broke down has been trying to be a bad ass. I've been humoring you for years but your gravy train is over, man. It stops when I say so. You got that?"

"Let me tell you something, punk!"

"No, let me tell you something. You don't own me, Daunte! You got that? You don't own me! I'm not your little puppet, your little fucking do boy."

"You're messing with the wrong one, Scott…"

"Oh yeah. And just what are you gonna do? You're threatening me with charges? Big deal, man. I call your bluff. No, as a matter of fact, I dare you to call the feds on me. I'm begging you but that's not gonna happen. Know why? You don't have the balls. If you think I'm gonna go down for your shit, you've got another thing coming. We'd be in jail together but you got a lot more riding on you."

Daunte balled his fists up as he tried to corner Nathan.

"I could kill you right now. You got that? You understand that? With my bare hands this second. Or I could have some friends come pay you a little not so friendly visit with a knife. Or I could have you gunned down like common gutter trash and make it look like a robbery gone bad. Or, and you should know this…accidents do happen. Be a shame if one happened to you…like it happened to the little missus. What was her name? Ashton? Ashley? Asher? Oh, who gives a shit? All hookers are the same, no matter how much you pay for them."

Whether on or off the court, Nathan had been known for his short fused temper almost as well as he had been known for his athletic talents. The fury turned to rage, quickly building up until something snapped inside. Grabbing Daunte by the collar of his expensively tailored suit, Nathan slammed him into the wall.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You want to threaten me? You want to threaten me? Let me tell you something, motherfucker. You point a gun at me, you hire your gang banging bitches to stick a knife in me, they damn well better finish the job because if not, I swear to God I'll come after your sorry ass. Now you got that?"

Daunte only laughed.

"I like you, kid. You got sack. You got spunk. Brains? Hell, no but you make up for it in personality."

Nathan reached back and let his closed right fist land hard against Daunte's face, blood spurting as the knuckles landed against the side of his nose.

"You ever mention Asher again, I'll kill you."

The doors opened as if the vultures had been waiting in the wings. Two burly men dressed in all black, wearing sunglasses approached.

"We got a problem, boss?" one of them reached for a weapon.

"Hold it!" came another voice emerging from the shadows.

Wiping the blood away, Daunte smiled.

"Well, well. I was waiting for you to come save the day, Danny Boy."

"I think there has been a misunderstanding here, fellas", Dan Scott nodded. "Let him go."

The men looked at Daunte who waved them off and they retreated like guard dogs who had just been called away by their master.

"That's correct", Daunte straightened himself. "Seems there has been a bit of a misunderstanding. I was just educating the boy but it seems the chip off the old Tree Hill block has a mean stubborn streak in him. Why don't you give him a pep talk, some fatherly advice? Let him know what happens when you make a deal with the devil and renig."

Dan looked at his son who had showed no signs of backing down.

"Gentlemen, and I do use that term loosely…why don't we discuss this at another time?"

Daunte nodded.

"Let's."

"I'm not hard to find", Nathan looked him straight in the eye.

With one last chuckle, Daunte was gone and the locker room of the Boston Celtics was again quiet, with father and son standing face to face.

"Way to go, Socrates", Dan admonished.

"I'm sick of his shit, Dad. I'm not Daunte Johnson's little bitch like you were. I say what and how and when and where."

"Nathan…"

"He doesn't own me! Nobody does…not even you."

Dan straightened his own tie.

"Very well, son. I respect your feelings but we won't have to deal with Daunte much longer."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Dan looked away.

"That son of a bitch has made my life miserable for years and I'm not going to let him do that to you. Don't worry about it, Nathan. I'll take care of it."