"Professor," Bastian grunted. He did not look up. "You are all over the newspapers. This is bad. Your head will get big. You will become soft."

"My head is fine, Bastian," Alex said, walking to his locker, number 38. "And I'm not soft."

"We will see," Bastian rumbled. "Fame makes everyone soft."

The locker room door opened. Harry, the captain, walked in. He was holding a stack of newspapers and grinning from ear to ear.

"GENTLEMEN! GOOD MORNING!" Harry roared, dropping the papers on the central bench. "Have you seen this? We are not just a team! We are a story!"

He held up the back page. The headline was huge.

THE HURRICANE ARRIVES.

There was a big picture of Alex, his arm out, pointing. A picture of Antoine, mid spin. And a picture of Mark, roaring, his arms in the air.

"Look at us!" Harry laughed. "The Brain, The Magic, and The Speed! I love it! How does it feel to be a weather event, Professor?"

"I feel... like I'm still just Alex," Alex mumbled, pulling on his black boots.

Antoine walked in, looking like he had just stepped off a fashion runway. He picked up the paper, his eyebrows raised.

"The Hurricane," he said, his voice thoughtful. "I like this. It has... style. The Eye, the Wind, and the Lightning. It is very dramatic."

The door burst open, and Mark ran in. He was already in his full training kit. He was sweating. He must have been running sprints in the parking lot again.

"I AM THE LIGHTNING!" Mark yelled, his eyes wide and wild. He had clearly already seen the papers. "DID YOU SEE IT? I AM THE LIGHTNING! I AM CHAOS! I AM..."

"You are late," Bastian grunted from the floor. "And you are loud. Go get the balls."

Mark's face fell. He looked at Alex, who just shrugged.

"But... I am the Lightning," Mark muttered.

"Go get the balls, Lightning," Harry said, trying not to laugh.

Mark grumbled, but he did it. He stomped off to the ball cage.

The good mood lasted until the manager, Steve, walked onto the pitch.

He was not smiling.

"So," he boomed. The whole team went quiet. "You are famous. You are 'The Hurricane'. You are on the back pages. You are all... headlines."

He paced in front of them.

"This," he said, "is a problem."

Alex's blood went cold.

"You are all reading about how good you are," Steve said, his eyes hard. "You are all thinking about your 'brand'. You are thinking about your new boots. You are thinking about your new names. You are... soft."

Bastian nodded, like he had known it all along.

"This week," Steve continued, "I have seen you in training. You are slow. You are lazy. You are... predictable. You think you are superstars because you beat one team."

He looked right at Alex, Antoine, and Mark.

"Well, you are not. You are just... a gimmick. And gimmicks... they get figured out. You are not a secret anymore. Every team in the country knows your plan. They know the 'double trap'. They know the 'fake fake'. They know you. So... you are finished."

The team was in shock. Alex felt terrible.

"Today," Steve roared, "we find out if you are a real team... or just a newspaper story. Ten versus ten. Full pitch. And I want... a war."

Training was brutal. Steve was pushing them. Every pass had to be perfect. Every run had to be hard.

Alex was playing as the Shield. He was winning the ball. He was distributing.

But he could feel it. The other players... they knew the plan.

Bastian, on the other team, was not marking Mark. He was just... waiting. He was watching Alex's eyes. He was intercepting everything.

Antoine tried his magic. Harry just... took the ball. He was not falling for the tricks.

"THIS IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" Steve yelled.

Alex was frustrated. His analyst brain was working, but he had no answers.

He was in the middle of a drill, his legs burning, when he heard a new voice.

"EXCUSE ME! HELLO! IS THIS THE PITCH? IT IS VERY GREEN!"

Alex looked up.

Walking across the perfect grass, like he owned the place, was Milo.

Alex's agent.

He was wearing... Alex did not even know what it was. It was a suit. But it was made of... was that... diamond patterned? It was bright blue and silver. He looked like a disco ball.

Steve, the manager, just... stopped.

He turned.

He looked at Milo.

The entire training ground went completely silent.

"Who," Steve said, his voice dangerously quiet, "are you?"

Milo just beamed. He had his phone in one hand.

"Steve! The man! The myth! The legend!" Milo said, walking right up to him. "Milo. From the agency. I am the brand manager for The Hurricane! We have to talk! I have... ideas!"

Steve looked like he was going to explode. "You are... on... my... pitch. During training."

"I know! The energy is amazing!" Milo said. "Now, I brought gifts! For the brand!"

Milo clicked his fingers. An assistant, who Alex had not seen, ran over, carrying a giant cardboard box.

Alex wanted to die. He just wanted the ground to open up and swallow him.

"Milo, no," Alex whispered.

"Milo, YES!" his agent said. He opened the box.

"T SHIRTS!" he announced.

He pulled one out. It was a black t shirt. On the front, there was a giant, glowing, cartoon... brain.

Underneath it, it just said: THE PROFESSOR.

"For you, Professor!" Milo beamed.

Harry, the captain, just burst out laughing.

"Oh, this is good," Harry said.

"And!" Milo said, pulling out another one. It had a magic wand on it. "THE MAGICIAN. For you, Antoine! Style! Magic!"

Antoine just looked at it. He actually... smiled. "It is... clean. I like it."

"AND!" Milo roared. "FOR THE CHAOS! FOR THE LIGHTNING! FOR THE ARROW!"

He pulled out the last one. It was bright silver. It had a giant, yellow, cartoon lightning bolt on it.

THE ARROW.

Mark, who had been hiding at the back, just... gasped. His eyes were wide.

"He... he made me a shirt," Mark whispered.

Milo threw the shirt to him. Mark caught it. He held it up. It was the most beautiful, most ridiculous thing Alex had ever seen.

"I AM THE ARROW!" Mark yelled, pulling it on over his training bib.

The whole team was laughing now. They were all crowding around, asking for shirts.

"This," Bastian grunted, "is a circus. I am going to the gym."

Steve, the manager, had not moved. His face was bright red. He was just... staring at Milo.

"Milo," Steve said, his voice a low growl.

"Yes, boss?" Milo said, beaming.

"My office. NOW."

Milo's smile did not fade. "Of course! We will talk strategy! Branding! I love it!"

He turned to Alex and Mark. "Do not worry, boys! This is good! We are building the brand!"

He followed Steve off the pitch.

The team was left alone. They were all holding t shirts.

Mark was just... staring at his. He was so happy.

"This," Alex said, his head in his hands, "is a complete disaster."

Harry walked over. He was wearing "The Professor" shirt. It was way too small for him.

"I do not know, Professor," Harry grinned. "I think... it is pretty funny."

Alex looked at his partner. Mark was practicing his "Lightning Bolt" celebration. In his new shirt.

He looked at Antoine, who was folding his "Magician" shirt very neatly.

This was his team. A circus. A hurricane. A headache.

He heard the door to the manager's office slam shut. He heard... yelling.

"Okay, Mark," Alex sighed.

"What?" Mark said, still posing.

"Steve is going to make us run. He is going to make us run... forever. Just... be ready."

"Worth it," Mark said, his face full of pure joy. "I am... a brand."

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