Minute 86.

Barnsley 0. Nottingham Forest 1.

Kai Sora stood over the free kick deep in his own half. He looked like a man waiting for a bus in a storm. He was annoyed.

Arthur Milton was shaking next to Michael.

"Launch it Boss," Arthur whispered. "Just hit it into the mixer. Pray for a mistake."

"No," Michael said. "We do not pray. We plan."

Michael put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. It was a sharp piercing sound that cut through the noise of the crowd.

Kai Sora looked at the bench.

Michael made a shape with his hands. He pulled an imaginary rubber band back.

It was a tactic they had practiced only once in the warm sunshine of Los Angeles. It was risky. It was dangerous. Doing it on a muddy pitch in Nottingham was insanity.

Kai nodded. He adjusted his wet hair.

Forest were expecting a long ball. They dropped deep. They put their giant defenders on the edge of their own box.

But Kai did not kick it long.

He turned around.

He passed the ball backwards to Sam Jones the goalkeeper.

The Forest players paused. They were confused. Why pass back in the 86th minute?

Then they smelled blood.

"PRESS HIM!" the Forest captain screamed. "KILL THE GAME!"

Three Forest attackers sprinted towards Sam Jones. They wanted to steal the ball and score an easy goal. They ran out of their defensive shape. They left gaps.

This was the trap.

Sam Jones did not panic. He waited. He waited until the Forest striker was two meters away.

Then Sam smashed the ball.

It was not a clearance. It was a targeted pass. A low driven laser that skimmed over the wet grass.

It flew past the rushing Forest attackers. It landed in the midfield.

Right at the feet of Arda Guler.

Arda was in space. The Slingshot had worked. The Forest midfield had pushed up and now they were stranded.

"GO!" Michael screamed.

Arda turned. He drove forward.

He saw Isaiah King sprinting on the right.

Arda played the pass.

Isaiah collected it. He was tired. His golden boots were covered in mud. But he saw glory.

He ran at the last defender.

"Pass it Isaiah!" Danny Fletcher yelled from the center.

Isaiah ignored him. He cut inside. He wanted to be the hero. He wound up his left foot.

He slipped.

The mud claimed him.

Isaiah's standing foot slid on the wet turf. His shot went sideways. It rolled harmlessly to the corner flag.

The Barnsley fans groaned.

Isaiah lay in the mud. He punched the ground.

"My boots!" Isaiah cried. "They have no grip!"

"Get up!" Higgins roared from the back. "The game is not over!"

MINUTE 88

But the game was slipping away.

Forest had the ball. They did not attack. They took it to the corner flag. They shielded it. They wasted time.

"Get the ball!" Michael shouted. "Press them!"

Kenji Sato ran over. The Engine was sputtering. He tried to tackle the Forest winger Elanga but Elanga was too strong.

Time was ticking.

Tick. Tock.

MINUTE 90

The fourth official held up the board. 4 MINUTES ADDED TIME.

"Four minutes," Arthur said. "We can score in four minutes. We scored against Tottenham in two."

"We need the ball first Arthur," Michael said grimly.

Finally Barnsley won a throw in.

Pavard threw it to Kai.

Kai looked up. He saw the Forest defense. They were a green wall. Every player was behind the ball.

Kai tried a chip pass. But the ball was heavy with water. It did not float. It dropped short.

The Forest defender Murillo headed it clear.

MINUTE 92

The ball fell to the center circle.

And there he was.

Kofi Mensah.

The boy with the rocket boots.

He was standing alone. He looked fresh. He looked hungry.

Higgins was the last man. The Butcher was tired. He was on a yellow card. He knew he could not foul him.

Mensah took a touch.

Then he ignited the engines.

He pushed the ball past Higgins.

It was a race that was over before it began.

Higgins turned like a cruise ship. Mensah turned like a jetski.

Mensah was gone.

He sprinted towards the goal. He was laughing. He was actually laughing as he ran.

Sam Jones came out. He tried to make himself big.

But Mensah was cold.

He did not shoot. He waited for Sam to dive.

Then he simply rolled the ball under the diving body of the goalkeeper.

The ball trickled through the mud. It seemed to take forever.

It crossed the line.

GOAL.

0 to 2.

The City Ground erupted. The noise was deafening.

Michael Sterling stood frozen in the rain. He felt the cold water soak through his coat to his skin.

It was over.

The unbeaten run against the big teams meant nothing here. The tactics meant nothing. The money meant nothing.

Sometimes you just get beaten by mud and speed.

MINUTE 94

The referee did not even wait.

PHWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!

The final whistle.

Nottingham Forest 2. Barnsley 0.

The players collapsed.

Kenji Sato fell face first into the grass. He did not move. He was completely empty.

Isaiah King sat up and took off his golden boots. He threw them on the ground in disgust.

Pavard stood with his hands on his hips shaking his head.

Michael walked onto the pitch.

He had to be strong. He was the Boss.

He walked over to Kenji. He helped the Japanese midfielder stand up.

"You ran well Kenji," Michael said softly.

"I failed Sterling san," Kenji whispered. He was crying. "I let him run past me."

"He is fast Kenji. Even machines have limits."

Michael walked over to Higgins.

The Butcher looked broken. He stared at the celebrating Kofi Mensah.

"He made me look old Boss," Higgins grunted. "I felt like a statue."

"You missed Diego," Michael said. "You tried to do the job of two men. It is not your fault."

Michael gathered the team in the center circle.

The Forest fans were singing "Going down! Going down!"

"Listen to them," Michael said to his players. "Listen to that sound."

The players looked at the crowd. They looked angry.

"They think we are finished," Michael said. "They think the fairy tale is over because we lost one game in the rain."

He looked at Isaiah.

"Isaiah. Pick up your boots."

Isaiah looked at the muddy golden boots on the grass.

"Pick them up," Michael ordered. "They are dirty. Clean them. And next week you wear them again."

Isaiah picked them up. He nodded. "Yes Boss."

"We lost," Michael said. "It hurts. It should hurt. If it does not hurt you are in the wrong sport."

He pointed to the tunnel.

"Now we go inside. We shower. And we prepare for the next battle."

The locker room was silent.

There was no music. No pizza. Just the sound of boots hitting the floor and heavy breathing.

Arthur Milton sat in the corner. He looked old tonight.

Michael sat next to him.

"We dropped to tenth place," Arthur said looking at his phone. "Chelsea won. Newcastle won."

"It is a long season Arthur," Michael said.

"I know," Arthur sighed. "But that kid. Mensah. He destroyed us. We need speed Michael. We need pace at the back."

"We have Diego," Michael said. "When he returns we will be strong."

"Diego is fast for a tank," Arthur said. "But he is not a Ferrari. We need to think about January."

Michael nodded. He felt a vibration in his pocket.

It was the System.

He pulled out his phone. He expected a bad report. He expected criticism.

[MATCH COMPLETE]

[RESULT: LOSS]

[TACTICAL ANALYSIS: FAILED]

[LESSON LEARNED: ADAPTABILITY]

But then a new message appeared.

[REALITY CHECK INITIATED]

[THE HONEYMOON IS OVER]

[OBJECTIVE UPDATED: SURVIVE THE WINTER]

Michael stared at the screen.

Survive the winter.

It sounded ominous.

He looked up at his team.

Kai Sora was sitting on his new bed in the corner. He was not sleeping. He was staring at the wall. He looked deep in thought.

Michael walked over to him.

"Kai," Michael said.

Kai looked up. He did not have his sunglasses. His eyes were dark.

"I do not like this feeling Boss," Kai said quietly.

"What feeling?"

"Losing," Kai said. "It tastes like old milk. It is disgusting."

"Good," Michael said. "Remember the taste. And do not let it happen again."

Kai nodded. "I need to upgrade the battery Boss. It ran out too fast today."

"We will work on it," Michael promised.

The door opened.

Julian Thorne walked in. The billionaire owner.

He was wearing a raincoat that looked like it cost five thousand pounds. He was not smiling.

"Michael," Julian said. "Can I have a word?"

The room went tense. The players looked at the owner.

Michael stood up. "Of course Julian."

They walked out into the corridor.

"That was ugly," Julian said bluntly.

"It was a bad day," Michael admitted. "The conditions were terrible."

"I do not pay for excuses," Julian said. "I pay for results. You spent a lot of money on wages Michael. A lot of money."

"I know."

"I like the story," Julian said. "The Misfits. The Dynasty. But stories need happy endings. If we finish fifteenth the story is a tragedy. And I hate tragedies."

Michael looked the billionaire in the eye.

"We will not finish fifteenth," Michael said firmly. "We are just catching our breath."

Julian stared at him. Then he nodded.

"Okay. Catch your breath. But start winning again. Soon."

Julian turned and walked away.

Michael leaned against the wall.

The pressure was back. The honeymoon was definitely over.

He walked back into the dressing room.

The players were dressed. They were ready to leave.

"Head up!" Michael shouted. "We go again on Saturday! We are Barnsley! We do not quit!"

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