CHAPTER 96: THE DYNASTY

Three months later, Michael Sterling was... restless.

The world had, for the first time in a year, stopped spinning. The "Championship" season didn’t start for another month.

The "Championship-Class" (Lvl 3) Training Complex his dad was building was almost done. The giant, glass-and-steel "Fortress," as Steve called it, was a beautiful, shining, monument to their new "Dynasty."

Michael was standing in his new, massive, glass-walled office, just... watching.

He was watching his dad, Steve Sterling, who was still in a hard-hat, roaring into his phone at a terrified-sounding marketing agent.

"A DAIRY... SPONSOR?!" Steve boomed, his "Partner" voice echoing across the (perfectly-un-spongy) new turf. "You want... to put... a COW... on the sleeve... of MY... CHAMPIONS?! ARE YOU INSANE?! GET ME... A... ROLEX! OR... A... SPORTS CAR! I... AM BUILDING... GLADIATORS... NOT... MILK-MEN!"

Michael just... laughed.

It had been... the best... summer... of his life.

The $10,000,000 "Championship War Chest" his dad had transferred... had been... fun.

The first thing he did... was not... ’business.’

He’d taken the entire... team... and... the staff... to Spain. For a week.

He’d booked an entire... beachfront... hotel.

It... had been... chaos.

Michael, for the first time... just... relaxed. He sat on a beach chair, his sunglasses on, his [System] off, and just... watched... his "kids"... be... kids.

Jamie Weston, his [CA 71] "Rocket," had... immediately... challenged... Shaun "The Butcher" Higgins... to a volleyball... match.

It... had not... been a "fun" game. It... had been a war.

Michael had just... watched... as Jamie... screamed... "MINE!"... and spiked... the ball... so hard... it hit... "The Butcher"... square... in the chest.

"The Butcher,"... who hadn’t... flinched... just... smiled. A terrifying, "I-am-going-to-end-you"... smile.

Michael... had... left... after that.

He... found... Finn Riley...

...who... was not... swimming.

He... was trying... to sell... seashells... (that he... was stealing... from the hotel... lobby... decorations)... to... tourists.

"They’re... ’magic,’ mate!" Finn was chirping, his ’Wild Fox’ energy at full... power. "You... buy... this... you’ll... run... as fast... as me! Five... euros!"

Arthur Milton, who was sitting under an umbrella in his full... tracksuit... just... rasped, "He’s... a menace... to global... commerce. I... love... him."

Kai Sora, the "Bouncer,"... was... of course... not... in the sun.

He... was... floating... in the pool. On a lilo. Under... a giant... umbrella... that a terrified... hotel... staff... member... was holding... for him.

He... was reading... a giant... hardback... book... on quantum... mechanics.

"It’s... ’too... bright,’" Kai... had... drawled,... not... looking... up.

It... was... perfect.

Then... they... got back.

And... Step 2... began.

The money.

Michael... had called... them in. One... by one. Into his new... office.

Jamie Weston... was first.

"Right, Jamie," Michael had said, trying... to sound serious. "Your old... salary... was... *’talented-League-One-kid’... money. This... is your... new... salary."

He... slid... the paper... across the desk.

Jamie... looked... at it.

His [CA 71]... eyes... popped.

"Boss..." he whispered, his voice... cracking. "This... this... has... to be a mistake. This... this... is ’Ferrari’... money!"

"It’s... ’You-Scored-a-35-Yard-Rocket-at-Wembley’... money," Michael... grinned. "Don’t... buy... a Ferrari. You’ll... crash... it."

Finn... was next.

"Boss! Boss! Boss! Am I... getting ’Ferrari’... money?!"

"No, Finn," Michael... laughed. "You’re... getting... ’Please-Stop-Trying-to-Sell-Stolen-Seashells’... money."

He... gave... all of them... new... contracts.

He... gave... all of them... Championship-level... salaries.

His "Kids"... were happy. They... were loyal. They... were ready.

They... were his.

...Which... brought... Michael... back... to today.

One... month... to go.

In the "War Room."

Steve slammed... his... phone... down.

"ROLEX!" he boomed, his face... a mask... of triumph. "ON THE SLEEVE! DONE! I TOLD them... ’cows’... were stupid!"

He... clapped... his hands. "Right! Money! What... is left... in the War... Chest?"

Michael... looked... at his spreadsheet. His beautiful, complex, wonderful... spreadsheet.

"Okay," Michael said, his own... "Boss" voice... clicking... on. "The... Spain... trip... was... $150k. The... new... contracts... signing... bonuses... were... $2 million. We... signed... ’The Butcher’ ($1.5M)... and... my Colombian... ’Magic Bean’... Left-Back ($200k)..."

"He’s... [PA 88], Dad," Michael... added...

"He’s... [CA 50], son," Steve... grumbled. "He’s... twelve. Keep... going."

"Right," Michael grinned. "So... after... all... of that... we... have... $6,150,000... left... to spend."

"GOOOOD!" Steve boomed, rubbing... his hands. "I... am bored! Let’s... buy... a monster! Son... go... to your... magic... box! Your ’System’! Find... me... another... [PA 97]! Find... me... a... ’Bouncer’... who... isn’t... so... annoying!"

Michael... winced.

This... was the problem.

"I... uh... I’ve been... looking, Dad," Michael said, quietly. "Every... day."

He... tapped... his laptop. The [System]... glowed.

But... the [Scouting Hub]... was... dark.

[SYSTEM: ’NO ELITE-TIER WONDERKIDS (PA 90+) FOUND...’]

[SEARCH CRITERIA: POSITIONAL NEED (STRIKER) // BUDGET ( $6.2M)]

[...SEARCH... EMPTY...]

"It’s... it’s empty, Dad," Michael whispered. "The... ’magic beans’... are gone. The [PA 90+]... kids... they’re all... more... than $10M. We... we can’t... afford... a new... star."

Steve’s "fun"... vanished. "What... do you mean... ’empty’?! Your... ’magic box’... is... broken?! After one... season?!"

"It’s not broken!" Michael said, frustrated. "It just... it’s logical! The Championship... is harder! The players... are more... expensive! We... need... a... Championship-level... striker... now... and... my System... can’t... find... one... we can... afford!"

"So... that’s... it?!" Steve boomed. "We... go into... a war... with *one... ’Rocket’... and a prayer?!"

Click... clack...

A... sound... from the corner.

Arthur Milton... who had been silently... watching... re-runs... of the Wembley... match... just... smirked.

He... muted... the TV.

"So..." he rasped, his eyes... gleaming. "The... ’magic... computer’... is... failing... you."

Michael... just... sighed. He... hated... this.

"Gaffer," Michael said, his voice small. "I... I need... a striker. A real... one. Jamie... is a god. But... he’s one... man. The ’Championship’... is a 46-game... meat-grinder. He... needs... help. And... my... System... is... dry. I... I... I need... your... ’System.’"

Arthur... just... grinned.

A slow, proud, beautiful, "I-thought-you’d-never-ask"... grin.

He... didn’t... go to his desk. He... reached... into his tracksuit... pocket. He... pulled... out...

...a creased, folded, napkin.

"A... ’napkin’?" Steve boomed.

"I... was... at... a... pub... last week," Arthur rasped,... un-folding... the napkin. "The... ’Butcher’... dragged... me... out. Said... I... ’needed... sunlight.’ He... was wrong. But... then... I... saw... him."

He... slid... the napkin... across the desk.

Michael... read... it.

It... was scrawled... in blue... pen.

[NAME: ’KEVIN... ’THE GHOST’... SULLIVAN’]

[POSITION: STRIKER]

[STATUS: ’THE WRECKAGE’]

Michael... blinked. "Gaffer... this... this is your... guy! The [PA 95]... wreck! The... the car-crash... kid!"

"He... was... ’The Wreckage,’" Arthur smirked. "Now... he’s... ’The... Ghost’."

"Why... ’The Ghost’?"

"Because..." Arthur’s eyes... shone. "I... watched... him... play. In... his... pub... league. He... he... he... doesn’t... run... anymore. Not... fast. His knee... is gone. His... [Pace]... is dead.

"...But... his brain...

"...He... never... moves. He... just... appears. In... the box. The ball... finds... him. He... scores. He... disappears. He’s... a ghost."

"So... he’s... slow?" Michael said, his heart... sinking.

"He’s... [CA 50]... at best," Arthur nodded.

"GAFFER!" Michael gasped. "We... we can’t... sign... a [CA 50]... slow... ’ghost’! We... are in the CHAMPIONSHIP!"

"He... is [PA 95]... *in... his... brain," Arthur snarled. "He... is angry. He... is hungry. He... is better... than anyone... you... can buy... for $6 million."

He... tapped... the napkin.

"He... is... us, Michael. He’s a broken... kid... who... needs... a home. He’s... a ’Brave’. And... he’s... cheap. He’s... a free... agent."

Michael... just... stared... at the napkin.

A... [PA 95]... brain... in a [CA 50]... body.

He... looked... at his Dad.

Steve... just... shrugged. "He’s... free? I... like... free! ’Free’... is good! We... can buy... another... ’Butcher’... with the rest!"

Michael... looked... at the napkin.

He... looked... at Arthur.

He... smiled.

"A... ghost... hunt, eh?" Michael laughed. "Okay, Gaffer. You... got... it. Let’s... go... sign... a ’Ghost’."

Arthur... just... grinned.

"Good," he rasped. "Now... about... that... other... $6 million...

"...I... also... need... a goalkeeper..."

Michael... just... laughed. This... was it. The Dynasty... was building.