"It looks like a coffin," Arthur said, poking the metal tube with his cane. "A very expensive, futuristic coffin. Are we burying players in here if they play badly?"

Michael laughed. "No, Arthur. This is the future. It is a Whole Body Cryotherapy Chamber. It uses liquid nitrogen to cool the air to minus one hundred and ten degrees Celsius."

Arthur's eyes widened. "Minus one hundred? Michael, we are trying to recover their muscles, not turn them into frozen peas."

"Trust me," Michael said, patting the sleek silver side of the machine. "Three minutes in here reduces inflammation, speeds up recovery, and releases endorphins. It is exactly what the squad needs. The winter schedule is brutal. We have eight games in December. We need fresh legs."

The door to the medical wing opened. The players walked in, fresh from a muddy training session. They were chatting and laughing, shoving each other playfully.

Then they saw the machine.

The room went silent.

"What is that?" Jamie Weston asked, pointing a trembling finger at the metal tube. "Is the Boss sending us to space?"

"It is a Cryo Chamber," Michael announced proudly. "It is going to make you superhumans. Who wants to go first?"

Silence.

Isaiah King hid behind Shaun Higgins. Even Kai Sora looked up from his phone with a frown.

"I am from London," Isaiah squeaked. "We do not do minus one hundred degrees. I will die. I am small. I will freeze instantly."

"I will go," a deep voice rumbled.

Shaun Higgins stepped forward. The Butcher. He was shirtless, sweating, and looked like he could fight a bear.

He opened the door and stepped inside the tube. His head stuck out of the top. Steam hissed around him as the machine activated.

Everyone held their breath.

"How is it, Butcher?" Michael asked.

Higgins closed his eyes. A smile spread across his face. "It is fresh. It tickles."

The players looked at each other in horror. If Higgins said it tickled, it probably meant it was excruciating for normal humans.

An hour later, the trauma of the Cryo Chamber was forgotten.

Michael had another surprise.

He led the players down the corridor to a room that used to be a storage closet for old cones and bibs. He had spent the last of his System Points and a chunk of the Newcastle cup money on this room.

He pushed the door open.

"Welcome to the Player Lounge," Michael said.

The players gasped.

The room had been transformed. The floor was covered in soft, plush red carpet. There were six massive leather reclining chairs. On the wall was an enormous 85 inch 4K TV connected to a PlayStation 5 and an Xbox. In the corner, there was a fridge stocked with premium energy drinks, smoothies, and protein shakes.

There was even a pool table.

"No way!" Isaiah shouted, sprinting into the room. He dived onto one of the leather chairs. "This is better than my house! This is better than Arsenal!"

"FIFA tournament!" Jamie Weston yelled, grabbing a controller.

Within seconds, the room was filled with noise. The sound of button mashing, trash talking, and laughter filled the air.

Michael stood by the door, watching them. This was important. Tactics were good. Training was good. But chemistry? Chemistry was built here, arguing over who was better at FIFA.

He walked over to the corner where Kai Sora was sitting. Kai wasn't playing. He was sitting on a beanbag, drinking a smoothie, and watching Isaiah lose to Jamie.

"You not playing?" Michael asked.

"I am observing," Kai said. "Isaiah is too aggressive on the controller. He will break it. Just like he plays football."

Michael smiled. He sat down on the arm of a sofa next to Danny Fletcher.

Danny was quiet. The captain was usually in the middle of the fun, but today he looked thoughtful. He was staring at the pool table, rolling the black eight ball between his hands.

"Everything okay, Skipper?" Michael asked softly.

Danny looked up. He forced a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, Boss. Just tired. The Cryo thing woke me up a bit, though."

"You played well on Saturday," Michael said. "That assist for Raph was world class."

Danny sighed. He put the eight ball down. "Boss, can I ask you something? Honest answer?"

"Always."

"If we go up," Danny said, his voice low so the others wouldn't hear. "If we actually make the Premier League. Are you going to sell us?"

Michael blinked. He hadn't expected that. "Sell you? Why would I sell you?"

Danny shrugged. He looked at his feet. "We are Championship players, Boss. That is what everyone says. I failed at City. Higgins was in League Two. Jamie has been at Barnsley forever. If we go up, we will be playing against Haaland. Against Salah. The fans... they will want big names. They will want stars."

Michael looked around the room. He saw Isaiah screaming because Jamie had just scored a last minute goal. He saw Higgins carefully peeling a banana with his giant hands. He saw Kai watching them all with his secret affection.

They were a family. But Danny was right. They were insecure. They were the Misfits.

Michael stood up. He walked over to the TV and pressed the mute button.

"Hey!" Isaiah protested. "I was focusing!"

"Pause the game," Michael said.

Jamie paused the game. The room went quiet. Everyone looked at the Boss.

"Danny just asked me a question," Michael said, leaning against the wall. "He asked if I am going to sell you all if we get promoted to the Premier League."

Silence.

Jamie looked down. Higgins stopped chewing his banana. Even Isaiah looked serious. It was the elephant in the room. The fear that they were just placeholders for the real team Michael was building.

"I want to tell you a story," Michael said. "About my Dad."

He looked at the photo of Steve Sterling that he had placed on the shelf above the TV.

"My Dad loved business. He loved making deals. He always said you should upgrade your assets. If you have a Ford, sell it and buy a Ferrari. If you have a house, sell it and buy a mansion."

Michael paused.

"But he realized something before he died. He realized that a Ferrari is just a car. It doesn't have a soul. He realized that the things you build from the ground up... those are the things that matter."

Michael looked at Danny.

"You guys are not Fords. You are not placeholders. You are the Dynasty. We are fifth in the Championship not because I bought stars, but because you guys fight for each other. You think I want to replace that with some mercenary who only cares about his paycheck?"

He pointed at Higgins.

"Who am I going to buy that is scarier than The Butcher?"

Higgins grinned.

He pointed at Kai.

"Who am I going to buy that has better vision than The Bouncer? Even if he is lazy."

Kai smirked and raised his smoothie.

He pointed at Danny.

"And who am I going to buy that loves this club more than The Prince?"

Danny's eyes were shining. He sat up straighter.

"We go up together," Michael said firmly. "Or we don't go up at all. If we make the Premier League, we do it our way. We might get battered some weeks. We might lose. But we will be Barnsley. And nobody... nobody will want to play us."

"Damn right," Jamie Weston said, breaking the silence. "I will tackle Haaland. I will put him in the stands."

"I will nutmeg Salah," Isaiah declared, standing up on the sofa. "He is short too. It will be a fair fight."

"I will save the penalties," Sam Jones shouted from the back.

The tension in the room vanished. The fear was gone, replaced by that familiar, arrogant belief that fueled them.

"Good," Michael said, unmuting the TV. "Now unpause the game. Isaiah, stop losing. You are embarrassing the strikers union."

"I was lagging!" Isaiah shouted. "The controller is broken!"

As the noise returned to the room, Michael walked out into the corridor. Arthur was waiting for him.

"Good speech," Arthur said. "Steve would have liked that."

"They needed to hear it," Michael said. "They are young, Arthur. They read the comments online. They think they are imposters."

"They are imposters," Arthur chuckled. "But that is why they are dangerous. Nobody sees them coming."

"We need one more thing," Michael said, walking towards his office. "The training pitch. It is a bog. We have the Cryo Chamber. We have the Lounge. Now we need a surface that lets them play our football."

"A heated pitch?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow. "That costs a fortune, Michael."

"We have the Newcastle money," Michael said. "And I have some points left. If we want to play fast, possession football, we cannot play in a swamp. I want a hybrid grass surface. Heated. Premier League standard."

Arthur whistled. "You are really building an empire, aren't you?"

"Brick by brick," Michael said.

He sat down at his desk and opened the System menu.

[UPGRADE: TRAINING PITCHES]

[LEVEL 3 -> LEVEL 4 (ELITE SURFACE)]

[COST: 300 POINTS + £200,000]

Michael clicked confirm.

Outside the window, the grey clouds parted slightly. A ray of sun hit the muddy pitch.

Michael watched his team come out of the Player Lounge. They were laughing, pushing each other, heading to the canteen for lunch. Danny had his arm around Isaiah. Higgins was carrying Kai like a backpack.

They were a mess. They were chaotic. They were Misfits.

But they were his Misfits.

And come January, when the Bull, the Engine, and the Spark arrived... this team was going to be something truly special.

Michael picked up his phone. He had a call to make. He needed to order a Japanese dictionary for Kai. If Kenji Sato was going to run for him, Kai at least needed to learn how to say "Thank you" and "Please run faster".

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.