V - 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖒𝖕

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V
₮ⱧɆ ₦ł₲Ⱨ₮₥₳ⱤɆ


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BRIGHT LIGHTS WERE ADJUSTED, cameras were positioned, and a backdrop of sports memorabilia and trophies was carefully arranged. The soft hum of voices and the occasional clatter of gear filled the space.

In the center of it all, Luther Brent sat calmly. His eyes followed the movements around him, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. He was older now. The lines on his face marking the passage of time.

But his eyes still held the same intensity and determination that had defined his career.

A young technician approached, carefully pinning a microphone to the lapel of Luther's jacket.

"Testing, testing. . ." The technician murmured, adjusting the microphone, "Can you say something for me?"

"Getting some Shake Shack after this."

"Uh—Perfect." The technician said, stepping back to give a thumbs-up to the director, "We're ready to roll."

The director, a woman in her mid-thirties with an air of calm authority, nodded and approached Luther. 

"Thank you for doing this, Mr. Brent. We're just about ready. Can I get you anything before we start?"

"Nah, it's all good, thank you." Luther shook his head, dismissing.

With a final adjustment to the lighting, the director moved behind the main camera. 

"Alright, everyone. Quiet on set. And. . .action."

The room fell silent, the only sound the soft whir of the cameras recording.

Luther waited, hands on his lap. He looks around, eyes squinting.

"Oh, was I supposed to start?" He realized.

"Oh, uh, yes. . . just a brief introduction."

"My bad, that's on me." Luther took a deep breath, his gaze steady as he looked into the lens, "My name is Luther Brent. Was head coach at Oak Hill Academy. Before that, I was a player. Basketball has been my life for as long as I can remember."

The interviewer, sitting just off-camera, leaned forward slightly

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The interviewer, sitting just off-camera, leaned forward slightly. 

"Mr. Brent, can you tell us about your early years? What drew you to basketball?"

"Uh, well, I grew up in a small town in Georgia. We didn't have much. But we had a hoop, and that was enough." Luther's eyes grew distant, the memories flooding back, "My father was a factory worker, and my mother worked two jobs to keep us afloat. It was tough but basketball was my escape. My sanctuary. Gave me reason. Uh, I spent every free moment I had on the court."

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⏰ Last updated: Jul 24 ⏰

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