"My head is fine, Bastian," Alex said, sitting at his locker, number 38. "I am just... tired."

"Good," Bastian said. "Famous and tired is better than famous and stupid."

The locker room filled up. Antoine came in, looking like a movie star. He winked at Alex.

"Today, Professor," Antoine whispered, "we show them the signals."

Alex just grinned.

Mark was the last to arrive. He was not wearing his shiny suit. He was in his full training kit. He was already sweating. He had been running sprints. In the parking lot.

"I am not late," he panted, bursting through the door. "I am... warm. I am the chaos."

Harry, the captain, just laughed. "Go get the balls, chaos."

Mark grumbled, but he did it.

The manager, Steve, stood in the middle of the room. He was holding a tactics board.

"Okay," he boomed. "You are not a secret anymore. The whole world knows about the Hurricane. They know the trap. They know the decoy. So today... we see if it really works."

He pointed to the board. "Crystal Palace. At home. They are fast. They are strong. They are physical. They will not be stupid like Newcastle. They will have a plan to stop you."

He looked right at Alex. "Professor. You are the eye. You are the shield. But today... you must also be the brain. They will try to bully you. Do not let them. You control the tempo. You decide."

He looked at Antoine. "Magician. You are the sword. Be magic."

He looked at Mark, who was trying to look invisible by the door. "Speed. The bench. You are my chaos button. Be ready."

Alex felt his heart beating fast. This was it. His first home game since... well, since he was the 'surprise kid'. Now, he was the starter. The expectations were huge.

Walking out of the tunnel at the Emirates was a sound Alex would never get used to.

Sixty thousand people, his people, all roaring his name.

"PROFESSOR! PROFESSOR! FINCH!"

He saw a sign. A kid was holding it. It just had a big picture of a brain, next to a picture of a lightning bolt, next to a picture of a magic wand.

The Hurricane.

He took his position. He was the 'six'. The shield.

Antoine was in front of him. The 'ten'. The sword.

The whistle blew.

The first half was... a fight.

Crystal Palace was fast. Very fast. Their wingers were like rockets.

And their plan was simple. Do not let Alex play.

Their star midfielder, a big, tough player, was stuck to Alex like glue. He was not as strong as Henderson, but he was quick.

Alex got the ball. The player was on his back, kicking his ankle.

Alex used his core. He was stable. He passed it. One touch. To Bastian.

He got it back. The player was there again.

Alex could not turn. He could not see the magic passes. He was just... surviving.

It was zero zero.

It was frustrating.

Alex was the brain, but he was in a cage.

Antoine was trying. He was dropping deep. He was trying to find the ball. But every time he did, two defenders were on him.

"This is not working, Professor!" Antoine hissed, as they jogged past eachD other. "I am a sword, but I am in a box! And you are a shield with no one to hit!"

He was right.

Alexs analyst brain was working. The data was bad. They are too smart. They are not falling for the trap. They are just... stopping us at the source.

They are stopping me.

Halftime. Zero zero.

The locker room was tense. The crowd was nervous.

"They are too good," Harry, the captain, said. "They are... they are not letting us play. Their midfielder is all over you, Alex."

"I know," Alex said. He was panting. "I cannot turn. I cannot see the pass."

Steve, the manager, was just staring at the tactics board.

"So," Steve said. "They have a plan. They are stopping the Professor."

He looked at Alex. "What do they not see, Professor? Analyze."

Alex closed his eyes. He saw the pitch. He saw the fast winger. He saw the big defender. He saw the midfielder, who was always... always... looking at Alex.

"He is only looking at me," Alex said slowly. "He... he does not care about anything else. He just wants to stop... the brain."

"Good," Steve said. "So... stop being the brain."

Alex looked confused. "What?"

"You are the shield. You are the anchor. But you are also... the bait. Be the bait. But... a different kind of bait. Stop playing one touch. Stop being safe. Run at him."

"Run at him?" Alex said. "But... he is huge."

"I do not care," Steve said. "He is expecting you to pass. He is expecting you to be smart. Be... stupid. Be fast. Run at him. Make him make a mistake."

Antoine was listening. A slow, magic smile spread across his face.

"Yes," Antoine said. "Be the chaos, Professor. You be the chaos. I will be the space."

Alex did not understand. But he trusted them.

The second half started.

The crowd was nervous.

Alex got the ball. He was deep.

The big midfielder charged at him, ready to block the simple pass.

Alex did not pass.

He took a deep breath.

He ran.

He ran right at the big midfielder.

The player was so surprised he just... stopped. He had never seen Alex do this.

Alex did_not do a trick. He did not do a flick. He just... pushed the ball past him and ran.

He used his new, stable core. He was not fast. But he was... solid.

He bounced off the tackle. He was past him.

The stadium gasped. Alex was running.

He was in space. The entire Crystal Palace team was confused. The brain was running.

Alex looked up.

He saw Antoine. Antoine was not in the box. He was in the space Alex had just left. He was all alone.

Alex passed it.

Antoine got the ball.

He did not shoot. He was too deep.

He just... turned. He looked up.

He saw the Arsenal winger, who was not being marked.

He hit a perfect, sixty yard, magic pass.

The winger got the ball. He shot.

GOAL!

One zero.

The stadium exploded.

Alex was just... standing. He was breathing hard. He had... he had just... created a goal. By running.

Antoine ran over. He did not jump on Alex. He just grabbed his head.

"YES! PROFESSOR! YOU ARE CHAOS! I LOVE IT!"

Antoine ran to the corner.

Alex watched. What will he do?

Antoine did not stop. He hit a perfect, one knee slide. He pointed to the sky.

Plan A. The Storm.

Alex knew what it meant. Attack. Do not stop.

Steve, the manager, saw it too. He was already yelling.

"Mark! SPEED! GET READY! GO! GO! GO!"

The clock said sixty five minutes. Mark was coming on.

The Palace team was stunned. They were confused.

The game restarted.

Arsenal was not sitting back. They were attacking. Plan A.

Alex won the ball. He was not just a shield. He was... a weapon.

He looked up.

Mark was on the pitch. He was a silver blur. He was running the "fake fake" move.

But the defenders... they were not watching Alex. They were not watching Mark. They were watching Antoine.

They were terrified of the magic.

Alex saw it. Mark saw it.

Mark stopped his fancy run. He just... ran. Straight.

Alex did not hesitate.

He hit the pass. The Hurricane pass. Sixty yards. Perfect.

Mark was on it. The defenders were too late.

The keeper came out.

Mark did not chip. He did not smash.

He just... stopped. He put his foot on the ball.

The keeper slid past him.

Mark looked at the empty goal. He looked at Alex, who was fifty yards away.

He just... tapped it in.

Two zero.

The game was over.

The stadium was a wall of noise.

Mark ran.

He did not do his "Lightning Bolt". He did not go to Alex.

He sprinted. Full speed. Right to the sideline. Right to the manager.

He stood in front of Steve. He just pointed at him.

"CHAOS!" he roared.

Plan C. Chaos. Run them into the ground.

Steve was not angry. He was laughing. He pulled Mark into a headlock and rubbed his head.

The final whistle blew.

Two zero.

Alex had played ninety minutes. He had not scored. He had not gotten an assist.

But he had won the game. He had been the brain. He had been the chaos. He had been the shield.

He was lying on the grass. He was too tired to move.

Bastian walked over. He looked down at him.

"Good game, Professor," Bastian grunted. "You were... not boring. You were a very smart, very fast... duck."

He offered Alex his huge hand.

Alex took it. Bastian pulled him up like he was a toy.

"Come," Bastian said. "The newspapers want to talk to you again."

Alex just groaned.

He was in the press conference. He was in his suit. He was holding another bottle of champagne.

A reporter asked, "Alex, first a decoy, then a weapon. What is next? What is the limit for the Hurricane?"

Alex looked at the cameras. He was not scared this time.

He remembered his old life. The beige office. The regret.

He remembered his new life. The green grass. The roar of the crowd.

He smiled. His analyst smile.

"I do not know," he said. "You will just have to wait and see. But... we are just getting started."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.