"Okay, Liam," he whispered. "Let's see what you've been so scared of."

He lay down in the pod, his heart hammering against his ribs.

The familiar white interior closed around him.

On the side panel, next to the emergency release, was a small, discreet port he'd never noticed before, covered by a rubber flap.

He opened it. It was a standard USB-C port.

His hand trembled slightly as he inserted the drive. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, the entire pod went dark, and a single, sharp, synthesized voice echoed in the small space.

[ERROR: UNRECOGNIZED HARDWARE DEVICE. SYSTEM INTEGRITY COMPROMISED. FOR YOUR SAFETY, A FULL SYSTEM LOCKDOWN HAS BEEN INITIATED.]

Red warning lights began to pulse softly around him. A new menu appeared in his vision.

[To proceed, please enter secure Diagnostic Mode for a full system scan and hardware verification. Estimated time: 3 hours.]

"Three hours?" Ethan groaned.

"I've got a match in thirty minutes!"

He had a choice: abort the match and dive into the rabbit hole of Liam's conspiracy, or pull out the USB and deal with the game at hand. He thought of his team, of their position at the top of the league, of the seven thousand people who might be waiting for his stream. The mystery would have to wait.

He ejected the drive, and the pod whirred back to life, the red lights turning a calming white.

[System restored. Welcome back, Gaffer.]

He sighed, a mixture of frustration and relief washing over him. He had tried.

But the game, it seemed, had its own secrets to keep.

He materialized on the virtual training ground, pushing the memory of the lockdown to the back of his mind.

The sun was shining. The air was filled with the happy, confident shouts of his players. Today was matchday. A huge one.

An away trip to Pride Park to face Derby County, the team in second place.

"Morning, gaffer!" a voice called out. It was David Kerrigan, who, along with Grant Hanley, was finally back from suspension.

"How are the subscriber numbers looking? Are we famous yet? Can I get a sponsorship deal with a hair gel company?"

"Just focus on getting through ninety minutes without getting another suspension, you menace," Grant Hanley grunted, jogging past.

Ethan just laughed, the easy, familiar banter a welcome antidote to the morning's high-tech drama. He watched his players, a feeling of immense pride swelling in his chest.

They were a real team now, a confident, cohesive unit.

He gathered them in the briefing room.

"Alright, lads," he began, pulling up the tactical display. "This is the big one. Derby County. Second in the league. They're the real deal. They're experienced, they're disciplined, and they have him."

He swiped the screen, and the image of a single player filled the display. He was a man in his mid-thirties, a grizzled, powerful-looking striker with the intelligent, seen-it-all eyes of a true veteran.

His name was Marcus Thorne.

"For those of you who don't know," Ethan said, his voice laced with respect, "Marcus Thorne is a legend. An ex-England international, a Premier League champion. He's scored over 200 top-flight goals. He's forgotten more about football than most of us will ever know. And he is, without a doubt, the smartest player in this entire league."

The younger players stared at the screen in a state of awe.

"Their entire game plan revolves around him," Ethan continued, zooming in on the tactical map.

"They get the ball to him, and he makes the magic happen. So, our plan is simple. We cut him off. Jacob, Kenny," he looked at his two defensive midfielders. "You are his shadow. I want you to be so tight to him that you know what he had for breakfast. We stop him, we stop them. It's that simple."

He looked around the room, at the fiery, determined faces of his players. "They think we're a fluke. A bunch of lucky kids. Let's go out there and show a real legend what the future of football looks like."

The teams walked out into the roar of a packed, passionate Pride Park. The home crowd was a sea of black and white, a wall of noise that was every bit as intimidating as Hillsborough had been.

Ethan took his place in the dugout. He glanced at his vision.

The little red LIVE icon was there.

The viewer count was already at three thousand and climbing.

"WELCOME, FOOTBALL FANS, to what could be the match that defines the League One title race!" the voice of Tactics Tim boomed through the stream.

"It's the old guard versus the new blood! The grizzled veterans of Derby County, led by the legendary Marcus Thorne, against the chaotic, high-flying, table-topping wonderkids of Apex United, led by their viral-sensation manager, 'The Gaffer'!"

"This is a classic clash of styles, Tim," a second, more skeptical voice chimed in. It was Gary 'The Gaffer' Stone.

"It's experience versus enthusiasm. I know where my money is. You can't beat an old dog like Thorne with a few fancy tricks."

Ethan just smiled.

The whistle blew.

And from the very first second, Ethan knew he had made a terrible, terrible mistake.

Derby County had the kick-off. The ball was played back to their center-back. Ethan watched Marcus Thorne, expecting him to push up, to find space in the attack.

But he didn't. He just stood there, on the halfway line, his eyes fixed on one player. Emre Demir.

The ball was worked into the midfield.

Emre dropped a few yards to receive a pass.

And Marcus Thorne followed him. Everywhere Emre went, Thorne was there, a close, intelligent, and utterly suffocating shadow.

He wasn't playing as a striker. He was playing as a man-marker. A personal, one-man prison for Apex United's creative genius.

"Well, this is... unexpected," Tactics Tim said, his voice filled with a stunned confusion. "Marcus Thorne, one of the greatest strikers of his generation, is playing as a... a defensive midfielder? He's man-marking a 17-year-old kid!"

"It's a masterstroke, Tim!" Gary 'The Gaffer' Stone roared with delight. "It's a stroke of pure, tactical genius from the Derby manager! He's identified the danger, and he's using his best, smartest player to nullify it completely! He's fighting fire with fire!"

Ethan just stood on the sideline, his mouth agape, a feeling of cold, dawning horror washing over him.

His entire game plan, his brilliant strategy to cut off the supply to the legend, was useless.

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