Inside the Barnsley team hotel in Kensington.

Michael Sterling stood in the lobby. He was trying to drink a coffee but the flashing cameras outside the glass doors were blinding him.

"They are hungry today Boss," Arthur Milton rasped standing next to him. "They smell blood. Or maybe they just smell Diego's cologne."

"It is Isaiah," Michael said looking at the crowd of journalists. "This is his homecoming. The narrative is perfect. The rejected boy comes back to the castle to kill the King."

"Shakespeare," Arthur grunted. "I prefer action movies. Less talking more explosions."

The elevator dinged.

The Misfits walked out.

They looked relaxed. Diego Nunez was wearing a tracksuit that was two sizes too small for his muscles. He was holding a bag of bagels.

Kenji Sato was bowing to a potted plant that he accidentally bumped into.

Kai Sora was sleepwalking. He had his sunglasses on and was being guided by Finn Riley like a blind man.

And then there was Isaiah King.

Isaiah was usually the loudest person in the room. He usually danced. He usually shouted.

Today he was silent.

He wore big headphones. He looked at the floor. He looked smaller than usual.

"He is nervous," Arthur whispered.

"He is terrified," Michael corrected. "He talks big but he is seventeen. Arsenal was his dream. They broke his heart. Now he has to look his ex girlfriend in the eye."

Michael walked over to Isaiah. He put a hand on the boy's shoulder.

Isaiah jumped. He took off his headphones.

"You okay Izzy?" Michael asked.

"Yeah Boss," Isaiah said quickly. "I am good. I am ready. I am going to destroy them."

"You are shaking," Michael noted gently.

Isaiah looked at his hands. They were trembling slightly.

"It is just... the coffee," Isaiah lied. "Too much caffeine."

"Listen to me," Michael said leaning in close. "You do not have to be a superhero today. You just have to be Isaiah. That is enough. That is more than enough."

Isaiah nodded. He took a deep breath. "Okay Boss. Just Isaiah."

Michael smiled and walked away. He needed to find a quiet place. His phone had been vibrating in his pocket for ten minutes.

He walked into a private meeting room and locked the door.

He looked at the screen.

UNKNOWN NUMBER

He answered.

"Hello?"

"Good morning Mr Sterling," a calm smooth voice said. "This is Txiki Begiristain. From Manchester City."

Michael froze.

The Director of Football for the champions of England. The man who built the machine.

"Good morning," Michael said keeping his voice steady. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Do you want advice on how to beat Middlesbrough? Because I can send you the tape."

Txiki chuckled politely. "No Mr Sterling. We are fine. I am calling about business."

"I am listening."

"We have been watching your team," Txiki said. "Everyone is watching. The Carousel. It is fascinating. Pep is... obsessed."

"Pep likes tactics," Michael said.

"He likes players who understand space," Txiki corrected. "He likes players who see the game in slow motion."

Michael felt his stomach drop. He knew who they wanted.

"Kai Sora," Michael whispered.

"Yes," Txiki said. "The Japanese boy. He is special. He walks but he dominates. Pep says he reminds him of Pirlo but with better sunglasses."

"He is not for sale," Michael said immediately.

"Everyone is for sale Mr Sterling," Txiki said softly. "We are prepared to offer sixty million pounds. Plus add ons. Plus a loan back for the rest of the season."

Sixty million.

That was a fortune. That could build a new stadium. That could buy five wonderkids.

But Kai Sora was the Architect. He was the battery charger. He was the soul of the Misfits.

"Mr Begiristain," Michael said. "Kai Sora is lazy. He hates running. He sleeps in team meetings. He eats pizza before games."

"We can fix his diet," Txiki said.

"You cannot fix his soul," Michael said. "He needs to be free. If you put him in your system... if you make him run... he will break. He belongs here. With the Misfits."

There was a long silence.

"Eighty million," Txiki said. "Final offer."

Michael looked at the System screen floating in the air.

[TRANSFER OFFER DETECTED]

[BIDDER: MANCHESTER CITY]

[TARGET: KAI SORA]

[AMOUNT: £80,000,000]

[WARNING: SELLING KEY PLAYER WILL DESTROY TEAM CHEMISTRY]

"No," Michael said. "Not for a hundred million. Not for the Etihad Stadium. Kai stays."

"You are a stubborn man Mr Sterling," Txiki sighed. "But I respect it. Good luck against Arsenal. You will need it."

The line went dead.

Michael leaned against the wall. He was shaking. He had just turned down eighty million pounds.

He wiped sweat from his forehead.

"Do not tell Arthur," Michael whispered to himself. "He will have a heart attack."

The bus ride to the Emirates Stadium was quiet.

London was grey and rainy. It felt like a movie set for a drama.

They drove through North London. Through the streets Isaiah King grew up in.

Isaiah was looking out the window.

"That is my school," Isaiah pointed. "That is the park where I learned to dribble. That is the chicken shop where I got food poisoning."

"Is the chicken good?" Diego Nunez asked from the back.

"It is elite," Isaiah smiled. "But dangerous."

Then they saw it.

The Emirates Stadium.

It was magnificent. A giant bowl of glass and steel. It looked like a spaceship that had landed in the middle of the city.

There were statues of legends outside. Henry. Bergkamp. Adams.

"Statues," Diego Nunez grunted looking at them. "They are made of bronze. I am made of flesh. Bronze cannot tackle."

"Respect the legends Diego," Kenji Sato said bowing to the statue of Thierry Henry as the bus drove past. "They paved the way."

"I pave my own way," Diego said. "With a bulldozer."

The bus drove into the underground tunnel. It was dark and sleek.

They walked into the away dressing room. It was luxurious. Heated floors. Padded seats.

"Arsenal treat their guests well," Arthur Milton noted. "They want us to be comfortable so we fall asleep."

"We will not sleep," Michael said. "Wake up everyone!"

Michael stood in the center of the room.

He looked at his team.

"The media says we are lucky," Michael began. "They say the win against United was a fluke. They say Arsenal will expose us."

He looked at Isaiah.

"Isaiah. Arsenal said you were too small."

Isaiah looked up. His eyes were burning.

"They said you had an attitude."

Isaiah stood up.

"They said you were not good enough for this shirt."

Michael picked up the Barnsley shirt.

"But this shirt? This shirt fits you perfectly. You are not a reject Isaiah. You are a Barnsley boy."

He looked at the rest of the team.

"City just called me," Michael dropped the bomb.

The room went silent.

"They offered eighty million pounds for Kai Sora."

Kai Sora stopped drinking his water. He lowered his sunglasses.

"Eighty million?" Kai asked. "That is a lot of sushi."

"I told them no," Michael said. "I told them Kai is priceless. I told them he belongs to this family."

Kai smiled. A rare genuine smile. "Good choice Boss. Manchester is too rainy. And blue is not my color."

"We are a family!" Michael shouted. "And today we fight for our brother. Today we fight for Isaiah. We go out there and we show Arsenal that they made the biggest mistake in their history."

"YES BOSS!" the team roared.

Diego Nunez grabbed Isaiah. He lifted him up.

"Little brother!" Diego shouted. "I will protect you! If Saka looks at you I will eat him!"

"Do not eat him Diego," Isaiah laughed. "Just tackle him."

"I will tackle him with my teeth!"

They walked out to the tunnel.

The Arsenal players were there. They looked sleek. Professional.

Bukayo Saka was there. Martin Odegaard. Declan Rice. They looked like champions.

Arteta the Arsenal manager stood near the front. He looked intense.

Isaiah King walked to the front of the line.

He looked at Arteta.

Arteta looked at Isaiah. There was a moment of recognition.

"Hello Isaiah," Arteta said. "You have grown."

"Yes," Isaiah said. His voice was calm now. The fear was gone. "I grew. And I got faster."

Arteta smiled a polite smile. "We will see."

"Yes," Isaiah said putting his game face on. "We will see."

The referee picked up the ball.

Michael walked out into the stadium.

Sixty thousand fans. A wall of red and white.

But it was different red. Arsenal red.

Michael walked to the dugout. He sat down.

Arthur Milton was checking the stats on his tablet.

"Boss," Arthur said. "The System just updated."

"What does it say?"

"It says Isaiah King has a new status."

Michael looked at the screen.

[PLAYER STATUS UPDATE]

[NAME: ISAIAH KING]

[CURRENT MOOD: VENGEANCE]

[ATTRIBUTE BOOST: +5 TO ALL STATS]

[WARNING: PLAYER IS HIGHLY VOLATILE]

"Vengeance," Michael whispered. "I like it."

He looked at the pitch.

The whistle was about to blow.

Manchester City wanted his players. Arsenal had rejected his players. The world was watching.

PHWEEEEEEET!

Game on.

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