"Why the hell am I here?"
Zhao Dong stood frozen in front of a towering building, his face a mix of shock and disbelief.
"Did I just... die?"
Moments ago, he'd been hit by a speeding car on a packed street in Beijing. The pain had been unbearable, and he was damn sure he'd taken his last breath. Yet, somehow, here he was—alive, unscathed, standing right in front of the iconic Chicago Bulls Headquarters.
A quick glance at a nearby newspaper stand made his stomach drop.
October 10, 1996.
"What the fuck? Did I just get sent back... twenty-five years?"
He turned toward the massive Bulls logo on the building, its vibrant red and black triggering a flood of memories.
This wasn't just some random ass day.
This was the day everything fell apart.
In 1996, Zhao Dong had gone undrafted in the NBA but managed to land a spot on the Bulls' Summer League squad. He'd held his own, put up numbers, and even caught the eye of Jerry Krause, the Bulls' GM. Krause had dangled a training camp contract in front of him, even hinted at a guaranteed deal.
And just when Zhao Dong thought he had his foot in the goddamn door—
Boom.
Contract revoked. No explanation. Just a straight-up gut punch.
The New York Knicks had picked him up with a ten-day contract not long after, giving him a second shot. But his NBA career ended before it even got started. On his way to the airport, he got caught in a shootout between the cops and some street thugs. A stray bullet shredded his right lung. That was it. Game over.
Now, standing in front of the Bulls' HQ once again, his heart pounded.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a bulky-ass Motorola phone. If this was real—if he had actually been sent back—then he already knew what was coming next.
Any second now...
Bzzz. Bzzz.
The phone vibrated. Zhao Dong's pulse spiked.
"Hello, this is Zhao Dong."
"Zhao, this is Ernie Grunfeld, GM of the Knicks."
"Mr. Ernie, good to hear from you."
"Likewise. Listen, I've been keeping tabs on you since Summer League. With the Bulls letting you go, I'd like to offer you a spot in New York. We see potential in you."
Thirty seconds later, the call ended. Zhao Dong's hands trembled as he lowered the phone.
"This time... I'm not fucking it up."
He had been too naïve before. Too damn trusting. Thought fate was gonna hand him a break. Not this time.
"Stay the hell away from the airport. Avoid that goddamn shootout. And this time, I'm making it to the top."
His fists clenched as memories of that cursed night flashed in his head. That bullet wasn't just bad luck—it was fate slapping him in the face. But not again.
A loud screech snapped him out of it.
A blue taxi pulled up. Inside, a Black driver bobbed his head to the music blasting from his headphones.
"Hey, man, need a ride?"
Before Zhao Dong could answer, some random white dude rushed past him and slid into the cab.
"Airport!"
Zhao Dong froze. His jaw clenched as the cab sped off.
He remembered this exact moment.
That driver… he never made it. That same goddamn shootout was waiting for him.
"Shit. Some things can't be changed."
Dragging his suitcase, he turned toward a nearby hotel. He was staying put in Chicago tonight.
Then, out of nowhere, a translucent screen popped up in front of him.
---
"The NBA Sniper System is starting..."
"Startup complete."
Host: Zhao Dong
Physical Attributes:
Stamina: 80
Speed: 76
Strength: 80
Jumping: 62
Technical Skills:
Shooting: 80
Ball Handling: 85
Low Post Offense: 80
Mission:
"Your expulsion from the Bulls was orchestrated by Michael Jordan. You must dismantle his second dynasty."
"Jordan?" Zhao Dong muttered.
The system continued:
"Michael Jordan opposed your signing to express his dissatisfaction with Jerry Krause. The management canceled your contract to appease him."
Zhao Dong's jaw tightened.
"That smug asshole ruined my career just to make a goddamn point?"
This wasn't just about revenge.
This was personal.
"Jordan, you better be ready. I'm coming for your throne."
---
November 5, 1996 - Madison Square Garden, New York
The Knicks vs. Lakers matchup was getting heated. The scoreboard read 79–70, Lakers up nine.
And right in the middle of it all was Shaquille O'Neal—wrecking motherfuckers like a damn bulldozer.
"Boom!"
Another dunk. The rim shook. The crowd? Dead silent.
Shaq let out a roar, flexing on everyone like he owned the goddamn building.
On the Knicks' bench, Zhao Dong watched in awe.
"Jesus Christ, Shaq's a fucking monster."
Then the system's voice cut in:
"Sniper Missions: Dunk on Shaquille O'Neal to gain his strength talent. Block Kobe Bryant to unlock his breakthrough ability."
Zhao Dong's heart damn near exploded.
"Shaq's strength? Kobe's breakthrough ability? Fuck, I need this."
Problem was, he hadn't played a single second.
And then—
"Ahhh!"
Larry Johnson collapsed, grabbing his knee.
Coach Jeff Van Gundy scanned the bench, frustration written all over his face.
"Zhao! Get in there!"
For a split second, Zhao Dong hesitated. Then, he nodded.
"Got it, Coach."
As he stepped onto the court, nearly 20,000 fans locked eyes on him.
The commentators were already talking shit.
"Oh, great," Marv Albert quipped. "Here comes the Chinese rookie. Let's hope he doesn't piss his pants against Shaq."
Doug Collins chuckled. "I'm betting he stays as far away from Shaq as possible. No one wants to end up on a poster."
Zhao Dong ignored their bullshit and tightened his laces.
"Time to shut these motherfuckers up."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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