"DAD?!" Michael shrieked, his voice... a broken,... child’s... sound. "DAD! NO!"
The... door... flew... open.
Nurses. Doctors. A crash... cart.
"CLEAR!"
"Get... out... son! GET... OUT!"
A hand... grabbed... Michael’s... shoulder. It... was Arthur. He... wasn’t... leaning... on his cane.
He... was standing... straight. His... face... white... as a ghost.
He... pulled... Michael... out... of the room.
The... door... closed.
Michael... slid... down the wall.
The... horrible, plastic,... waiting-room... wall. He... couldn’t... breathe. His... sister,... Jessica,... was... *just... staring. Numb.
His Mom,... Catherine,... was... *just... whispering. "...non... non... non..."... over... and... over.
Michael... looked... at his hands.
"SYSTEM!" he commanded,... in his head. "NOW! WHAT... IS... THE... PRICE?! HOW... MANY... POINTS... TO... REVIVE?!"
The world... stopped. He... waited.
The blue... screen... flickered.
[...CALCULATING...]
[SYSTEM: ’BOSS...’]
The... voice... was... quiet. Gentle.
[SYSTEM: ’LIFE... IS NOT... A TRANSFER...’]
[SYSTEM: ’DEATH... IS NOT... A [CA 50]... PLAYER...’]
[SYSTEM: ’THERE... IS *NO... ’UPGRADE’... *FOR... THIS...’]
Michael... stared.
No. No. No.
"YOU... LIAR!" Michael scread,... in his head. "I... HAVE 1800... POINTS! I... HAVE $50... MILLION! I... AM THE... BOSS! FIX... HIM!"
[SYSTEM:.....]
The... door... opened.
The... doctor...
...walked... out. He... looked... at... Michael. He... looked... at Jessica. He... looked... at Catherine. He... didn’t... have to say... anything.
His... face...said... it... all.
He... just... slowly...shook...his... head.
...
...
...
Catherine Sterling... collapsed.
Jessica... just... laughed. That sa,... terrifying,... broken... laugh. "He’s... not... real," she whispered. "He... he’s not... dead. He’s... he’s... busy. He’s... yelling... at a cow... sponsor..."
Michael... just... stood... up.
He... walked... past... the doctor. He... pushed... open... the door.
Room 303.
It... was... quiet.
It... was... just...
...Steve Sterling. He... was lying... still. He... looked... small.
His "Partner" fire... was gone. His "Shark" eyes... were closed.
He... was... just...Dad.
Michael... just... walked... over.
He... touched... his Dad’s... hand. It... was... cold.
"You... idiot," Michael whispered, his voice... breaking.
A... single... tear... hit... his Dad’s... hand.
"You... stupid... old... man..."
"...we...
"...we had... a goalkeeper... to... buy..."
He... just... fell.
He... buried... his face... in the hospital... sheets.
And... for the first ti... since... he was six... years... old...
Michael... was sitting... in his Dad’s... study. The "tomb."
It was his now.
He turned on the TV.
"...A SHOCKWAVE HITS THE FOOTBALL WORLD!" a pundit was yelling his face grave. "STEVE STERLING! THE ’SHARK’! THE ’COBACK KING’! The ’Partner’... of the ’Sterling Era’... DEAD! At 54!"
The screen... cut... to Grumpy... Gary.
He... looked... sad.
"I... I hated... that man," Gary whispered, his voice... thick. "He... was... ruthless. He... was a shark. He... built... Northwood... just to spite... everyone.
The church... was too... small.
Thousands... of fans... were standing... outside. In the rain.
Singing.
"...Oh, Barnsley... Oh, Barnsley... is wonderful..."
Michael sat in the front row.
His Mom. His Sister. They were holding his hands.
And... in the... row... behind... him...
...was his... team.
All of them.
In brand-new black club suits.
Jamie. Danny. Raph. Kai. Sam.
And... then... Michael... looked...
...at the coffin.
His... Dad.
And... carrying... him...were four... n.
Arthur Milton.
"The Butcher" Higgins, his [CA 75]... face... streaked... with tears.
...And two... other... n...
...Finn Riley.
...And... Steve Sterling’s... lawyer.
Michael... blinked.
Finn...?!
"He... insisted," Arthur rasped, leaning... over. "He... said... he... wanted... *to... ’carry... the... boor... one... last... ti.’"
Michael... let... out... a sob... that... was half... laugh.
"We... are here... today...
"...to mourn...
"...Steve Sterling..."
Michael... stood up.
"He hated..."
Michael’s... voice... cracked.
The whole... church... went... silent.
"...he... hated... funerals," Michael whispered,... looking... at the coffin.
"He... said... they... were ’boring’... and ’inefficient’.
"He... hated... losing.
"He... hated... cows.
He... looked... at his team.
Michael pointed at all of them.
The fans. The team. His Mom. His Sister.
"WE... ARE... HIS... DYNASTY!"
"Rest... easy,... Dad.
"...We’ll... take it... from... here."
He sat down.
His sister grabbed his hand. His Mom kissed his head.
Arthur Milton leaned forward.
"That," he rasped, his voice thick.
"...was a damn good speech, Boss."
The rain stopped.
The sun. ca out.
***
A month.
That’s how long it had been.
A month since Michael Sterling had stood in a rain-soaked churchyard and promised his father’s mory that he would "take it from here."
A month of... quiet.
A month of... work.
The final pre-season friendly was today.
Michael pulled his Audi into the new, gleaming, massive parking lot of the "Sterling Era Training Complex."
The old, rusty, chain-link fence was gone. In its place was a ten-foot, black, imposing wall. The old, damp, brick building was gone, replaced by a giant, three-story, glass-and-steel monster of a building.
The new locker room was perfect. No more "hospital green."
It was all dark wood, glowing red lights, and each locker had a digital screen with the player’s face on it.
"It’s... ’kinda... extra,’ isn’t it?"
Michael grinned. He turned.
Kai Sora, the "Bouncer," was leaning against a wall, his [PA 97] potential hidden under a bored, 16-year-old drawl.
He was already in his kit. He had, Michael noted, finally put on the right shoes.
"My Dad... liked ’extra,’ Kai," Michael said, his voice soft.
"Yeah," Kai said, not unkindly.
"I... ’kinda... liked’... the ’old man.’ He... was loud."
"That he was," Michael laughed. "You... uh... ready for this? Sunderland. They’re Premier League, you know. They’re not... League One."
Kai just... shrugged. He... dribbled... a football... between his feet. Thump. Thump. Thump.
His control... was better. His [CA 61] skill... was climbing.
"They’re... just... n, ’Boss,’" Kai drawled, his face a mask of pure, arrogant, boredom.
"They... just... run... faster. It’s... boring."
Michael just shook his head, still smiling, and walked into the new "War Room."
Arthur Milton was standing in front of it, his cane... tapping.
"Gaffer," Michael nodded, his "Boss" voice clicking on.
"Boss," Arthur rasped, his eyes gleaming. He... was loving this. "
"The ’Kids’... are angry. The ’at’... is tough. And the ’magic beans’... are... magic. I... love... this league."
"Good," Michael grinned. "Let’s... go... and welco... Sunderland... to the ’Championship War’."
"AND... A HUGE... WELCO... BACK... TO THE... ’FORTRESS’!"
The stadium was... packed. 25,000 Barnsley fans, roaring, singing, bouncing.
It... was just... a friendly.
But... it was more. It... was the start.
Michael took his seat in the new, plusher, heated... Director’s Box.
His Mom, Catherine, was on his right, looking fabulous.
His sister, Jessica, was on his left, vibrating... with excitent, her ’FLETCHER 9’ shirt... brand-new.
"Michael, darling," his Mom said, her Parisian accent a lovely tinkle. "That... new... man...
"...the... ’Butcher’...
"...he... looks furious. Is he... always... furious?"
Michael looked down at the pitch. Shaun "The Butcher" Higgins... his Dad’s... last... ’signing’... was screaming... at the referee.
The match... hadn’t even... started.
"That’s... why... we bought him, Mom," Michael grinned.
"He’s... scary!" Jessica laughed. "I love him! Is... Danny... okay? After... Wembley? He... he looked so sad..."
Michael... looked... for his ’Prince.’
Danny Fletcher... was stretching. His face... wasn’t sad. It... wasn’t broken.
It... was [CA 73]. It... was cold. It... was calm.
He... was ready.
The whistle... blew.
PHWEEEEEEEEET!
"AND... WE... ARE UNDERWAY!" the comntator roared, his voice... already... hoarse. "IT’S... BARNSLEY! THE CHAMPIONS... OF LEAGUE ONE! AND... SUNDERLAND! A PREMIER... LEAGUE... GIANT! AND... THIS... IS NOT... FRIENDLY!"
Sunderland... were fast. They... were Premier League.
They... were laughing.
Minute 5.
A fast, Sunderland winger... blew... past... Michael’s new... [PA 88]... Colombian... ’Magic Bean’... Left-Back, Mateo.
Mateo... who was [CA 50]... and terrified... just... fell over.
"OH, NO!" the comntator yelled. "A ROASTING! A WELCO... TO... ENGLAND... KID! HE’S IN! HE’S... ONE-ON-ONE... WITH... ’THE BUTCHER’!"
Shaun "The Butcher" Higgins... just... smiled.
A horrible, broken-toothed, "I-am-going-to-eat-your-soul"... smile.
The Sunderland kid... tried... a step-over.
WHOMP.
"The Butcher"... didn’t... tackle.
He... collided.
It... was a truck. It... was a wall. It... was a perfect, legal, beautiful, painful... shoulder... barge.
The Premier League... winger... flew... 10 feet.
He... landed... in a heap.
The ball... stayed... perfectly... at... ’The Butcher’s’... feet.
"The Butcher"... looked... down... at him.
He... spat.
"Get... up... you... *Premier... League... lightweight."
The entire... stadium... ROARED.
"MY... WORD!" the comntator cackled. "SHAUN ’THE BUTCHER’ HIGGINS... HAS JUST DELETED... A... PREMIER... LEAGUE... SUPERSTAR! WELCO... TO... THE... ’FORTRESS’!"
Michael... was laughing. His Dad... would... have... loved... that.
"He’s... my... new... favorite," Jessica grinned.
The ga... changed.
Sunderland... stopped... laughing. They... were angry.
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