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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
And the preseason tour of Arsenal had begun exactly the way they wanted.
The meeting room slowly emptied.
Chairs scraped lightly across the carpet as players stood, stretched their legs, and began drifting toward the door in small groups. The bright tactical screen at the front of the room had already gone dark, leaving only the soft hotel lighting reflecting across the polished table where Arsène Wenger had stood moments earlier.
Francesco lingered for a second.
Not because he had something else to say.
Just habit.
Captains often stayed a little longer after meetings as he watching his teammates leave, making sure nothing else needed to be addressed.
Beside him, Virgil van Dijk pushed his chair back and stretched his arms above his head.
"Long day," he said.
Francesco nodded.
"Good start though."
Van Dijk smiled faintly.
"Four-nil away from home… in preseason."
He shrugged.
"I'll take that."
Across the room, Santi Cazorla and Theo Walcott were still quietly discussing one of the midfield clips Wenger had paused earlier.
Cazorla gestured with his hands.
"If the press comes here," he explained, tapping the air where the passing lane would be, "we move quicker through the middle."
Walcott nodded thoughtfully.
"Yeah… that opens the wing."
Even off the pitch, football never really stopped.
Meanwhile, Olivier Giroud walked past Francesco with a half-empty water bottle in his hand.
"Breakfast tomorrow?" he asked casually.
Francesco chuckled.
"You're always thinking about food."
Giroud raised a finger.
"Recovery."
"Of course."
Soon the room was almost empty.
Wenger gathered a few notes from the table before heading toward the door as well.
"Good night," he said calmly to the remaining players.
"Rest well."
Francesco nodded.
"Good night, boss."
The rest of the evening passed quietly.
Players returned to their hotel rooms in the tall modern building where the squad was staying in central Sydney.
The city lights shimmered across the harbor skyline outside their windows.
Phones buzzed with messages from family, friends, and supporters who had watched the match around the world.
Francesco stepped into his room and tossed his small bag onto the couch before walking straight to the balcony.
The air outside was cool.
Australia's winter night carried a different feel than London.
He leaned on the railing and looked down at the glowing streets below.
Cars moved slowly through intersections.
Pedestrians wandered along sidewalks.
Sydney was still alive.
But his body was already starting to feel the exhaustion of travel and competition.
His phone vibrated in his hand.
A message.
From Leah.
Nice goal today. I watched the highlights.
Francesco smiled slightly.
He typed back quickly.
Preseason. Just getting started.
After a short exchange, he finally stepped back inside and closed the balcony door.
Recovery mattered.
And the next match was already approaching.
Two days passed quickly during preseason tours.
Recovery sessions.
Light tactical drills.
Gym work.
Media commitments.
The Arsenal squad trained at a nearby facility while staying in Sydney, gradually preparing for their second preseason match.
Word had spread quickly through the city that Arsenal would play again.
And by the afternoon of the match day, the stands of ANZ Stadium were filling once more.
This time the opponent was another Australian side.
Western Sydney Wanderers.
A team known for its passionate supporters and aggressive playing style.
The atmosphere inside the stadium carried a different energy compared to the first match.
More anticipation.
More noise.
Thousands of Arsenal supporters had returned.
Many wore red jerseys and waved scarves high above their heads.
The Wanderers fans, grouped behind one goal, responded with their own chants and drums.
It felt closer to a real competitive match.
Inside the tunnel, the Arsenal players lined up calmly.
Francesco stood near the front of the line, adjusting the captain's armband around his sleeve.
Behind him, Alexis Sánchez bounced lightly on his toes, full of restless energy.
"Let's score early," Sánchez muttered.
Francesco smirked.
"That's always the plan."
Further back, Serge Gnabry looked focused as he rolled his shoulders.
Giroud leaned toward him.
"Maybe today you score."
Gnabry smiled.
"Maybe."
The referee signaled.
The teams stepped out into the bright stadium lights.
The crowd roared.
The match began quickly.
The Wanderers pressed aggressively in the opening minutes, clearly determined to show they could compete with one of Europe's biggest clubs.
But Arsenal remained composed.
Short passes.
Patient buildup.
By the tenth minute, the difference in quality began to show.
Cazorla controlled the midfield rhythm while Kanté broke up attacks whenever the Wanderers tried to push forward.
Then the breakthrough arrived.
Minute 14.
Özil drifted into space just outside the penalty area and slipped a clever pass between two defenders.
Francesco saw the gap instantly.
He accelerated.
One touch to control.
Second touch to push the ball forward.
Then a low shot across the goalkeeper.
The ball rolled cleanly into the corner.
Goal.
1–0 Arsenal.
The Arsenal supporters exploded with cheers.
Francesco raised a hand toward the crowd briefly as teammates ran over.
Sánchez slapped him on the back.
"Good start."
Francesco grinned.
"Told you."
After the opening goal, the match began to tilt heavily in Arsenal's favor.
Their movement became sharper.
Confidence flowed through the team.
Twenty minutes later, the second goal arrived.
A fast counterattack.
Kanté recovered possession in midfield and passed quickly to Walcott on the right.
Walcott sprinted forward before delivering a low cross into the penalty area.
Sánchez arrived at full speed.
One quick touch.
Then a powerful strike.
Goal.
2–0.
The Chilean celebrated with his usual fiery energy, punching the air before pointing toward the Arsenal supporters behind the goal.
Francesco jogged over laughing.
"You said early."
Sánchez shrugged.
"Still early."
The Wanderers attempted to regroup after halftime pressure built.
But Arsenal's pace on the wings continued creating problems.
Minute 39.
Gnabry received the ball near the left side of the penalty area.
He cut inside his defender with a quick movement.
Then unleashed a curling shot toward the far corner.
The ball sailed perfectly beyond the goalkeeper.
Goal.
3–0.
The young winger sprinted toward the corner flag in celebration.
Teammates quickly surrounded him.
Giroud wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
"See?"
Gnabry laughed breathlessly.
"Maybe."
The first half ended shortly after.
Arsenal firmly in control.
Wenger rotated players again during the break, continuing to share minutes throughout the squad.
But the tempo of the match didn't drop.
If anything, Arsenal looked even sharper.
In the 58th minute, the fourth goal arrived.
A cross floated into the box from the right side.
Giroud rose powerfully between two defenders.
His header thundered into the net.
4–0.
He spread his arms wide as teammates approached.
"Again?" Walcott joked.
Giroud smiled.
"I like headers."
But the scoring wasn't finished yet.
Ten minutes later, Arsenal struck once more.
A beautiful passing sequence began near midfield.
Cazorla to Özil.
Özil to Sánchez.
Sánchez slipped the ball into space behind the defense.
Francesco had already started his run.
He reached the ball just before the goalkeeper and lifted a delicate chip over the advancing keeper.
The ball dropped gently into the net.
Goal.
5–0.
The Arsenal supporters erupted again.
Francesco jogged toward the corner flag, raising both hands briefly toward the crowd.
Brace.
Another strong performance.
Van Dijk jogged up beside him.
"Two again."
Francesco smiled.
"Not bad."
The rest of the match passed comfortably.
The Wanderers continued fighting, but Arsenal controlled possession easily.
Finally the referee blew the whistle.
Full time.
Arsenal 5–0 Western Sydney Wanderers.
A second dominant performance in Australia.
Players shook hands with their opponents respectfully as the crowd applauded.
Another successful day on the preseason tour.
For a few seconds after the final whistle, the pitch of ANZ Stadium seemed to breathe out again.
The scoreboard still glowed above the stands.
Arsenal F.C. 5 — 0 Western Sydney Wanderers
Another strong performance.
Another clean sheet.
Another reminder that preseason might not count for trophies, but momentum still mattered.
The Arsenal players slowed their steps after the whistle.
Just like the previous match, nobody rushed immediately toward the tunnel.
Preseason matches had their own rhythm.
A little more relaxed.
A little more appreciative.
Francesco stood near the center circle again, hands resting on his hips as he looked around the stadium.
Thousands of supporters were still on their feet.
Arsenal fans applauded loudly, scarves raised high.
Even many Wanderers supporters clapped respectfully after the match.
Five goals were hard to ignore.
Nearby, several Wanderers players approached to exchange handshakes.
Professional courtesy.
One defender shook his head with a half-laugh as he reached Francesco.
"Couldn't catch you on that second one," he admitted.
Francesco smiled politely as they shook hands.
"Good match."
The defender shrugged.
"Maybe next time."
Across the pitch, Alexis Sánchez was still buzzing with energy, clapping toward the Arsenal supporters who were chanting his name.
"¡Alexis! ¡Alexis!"
He pointed toward them and raised both arms.
Further away, Serge Gnabry was laughing while several teammates patted him on the back for his goal.
"Nice finish," said Theo Walcott.
Gnabry shrugged modestly.
"I saw the space."
Nearby, Olivier Giroud was already joking about his header again.
"I think that one was even better than the last one," he said proudly.
Santi Cazorla laughed.
"You always say that."
Giroud placed a hand on his chest.
"Confidence."
Meanwhile, Virgil van Dijk and Shkodran Mustafi walked slowly across the pitch discussing defensive positioning again.
Even after a 5–0 win, defenders always analyzed the few moments that didn't feel perfect.
Footballers were rarely satisfied.
Gradually, the Arsenal players began walking toward the stands again.
Just like the previous match.
To thank the supporters who had come to see them play on the other side of the world.
Francesco jogged toward the barrier where hundreds of Arsenal fans leaned forward waving shirts and scarves.
"FRANCESCO!"
"CAPTAIN!"
He smiled and raised a hand in acknowledgement.
Phones lifted everywhere.
A few young supporters reached forward nervously with jerseys ready for autographs.
Francesco signed several quickly.
Nearby, Sánchez posed for photos with fans waving Chilean flags.
Gnabry handed his match shirt to a young supporter wearing an Arsenal cap that looked two sizes too big.
The boy's eyes widened in disbelief.
Moments like that mattered.
Eventually, the coaching staff gently gestured for the players to head back toward the tunnel.
Schedules still existed.
Recovery.
Travel.
Preparation.
Francesco gave one last wave toward the stands before turning toward the tunnel entrance.
Behind him, thousands of supporters applauded again.
The tunnel beneath the stadium was cooler now.
The noise of the crowd faded quickly as the players walked deeper inside.
Sweaty boots echoed softly against the concrete floor.
Kyle Walker caught up beside Francesco.
"Five-nil this time," he said.
Francesco nodded.
"Better."
Walker smirked.
"You scored two again."
"Striker's job."
Walker laughed.
"You really love that answer."
Further ahead, several players were already heading toward the dressing room doors.
The familiar scent of damp grass, sports spray, and warm air greeted them as the doors opened.
Inside, the dressing room atmosphere felt satisfied but calm.
Boots came off again.
Shin guards dropped into bins.
Sweaty shirts peeled away.
"Good work today," said Wenger as he briefly stepped into the room before heading to speak with staff.
Players nodded.
The routine repeated itself.
Showers.
Fresh clothes.
Arsenal travel jumpsuits.
Post-match recovery drinks.
Everything efficient.
Everything professional.
Within half an hour, the squad gathered again near the stadium exit where the team bus waited.
The night air outside felt refreshing after the heat of the match.
Players climbed aboard.
Conversations started again.
Phones appeared again.
The bus drove back through Sydney's evening streets toward the hotel.
Another victory in the books.
Sunlight spilled through the tall glass windows of the team hotel lobby in central Sydney.
It was early.
Much earlier than most of the hotel guests seemed prepared for.
But professional football schedules rarely waited.
Downstairs in the lobby, several Arsenal players had already begun gathering with their travel bags.
Large suitcases.
Training bags.
Equipment cases.
The next leg of the preseason tour was beginning.
Francesco stepped out of the elevator with a small backpack slung over one shoulder and a rolling suitcase behind him.
The lobby already felt busy.
Andrew Robertson sat on a sofa near the entrance scrolling through his phone while sipping coffee.
"Morning," Robertson said.
Francesco nodded.
"Morning."
Nearby, Virgil van Dijk stood near the luggage carts speaking quietly with Mustafi.
Several equipment staff members were organizing the team's bags.
The logistics of moving a football squad across continents required serious coordination.
Across the lobby, Giroud yawned dramatically while adjusting the strap of his bag.
"Too early," he muttered.
Sánchez laughed.
"You slept ten hours."
Giroud shrugged.
"Still."
One by one, more players arrived.
The lobby gradually filled with Arsenal travel gear.
Red jackets.
Black jumpsuits.
Club crests everywhere.
A few hotel guests quietly took photos from a distance.
Seeing an entire Premier League squad in the lobby at breakfast time wasn't something that happened every day.
Eventually, Arsène Wenger stepped out of the elevator as well.
He glanced around at the assembled players.
"Everyone ready?"
Several players nodded.
"Good," Wenger said calmly.
"The bus will arrive in two minutes."
Almost on cue, the large black team bus rolled up outside the hotel entrance.
The driver stepped out to greet the staff.
The Arsenal crest gleamed on the side of the vehicle under the morning sunlight.
One by one the players began loading their bags into the luggage compartment.
Then they climbed aboard.
Inside, the bus filled quickly.
Seats claimed.
Headphones on.
Coffee cups in hand.
Francesco sat near the middle again while looking out the window.
Sydney's morning traffic was already beginning.
The driver started the engine.
A moment later, the bus pulled away from the hotel entrance.
The bus rolled smoothly through the streets of Sydney.
Morning sunlight reflected off skyscrapers and harbor bridges in the distance.
Some players watched the city through the windows.
Others immediately leaned back and closed their eyes.
Travel days often meant catching extra sleep wherever possible.
Walker leaned across the aisle toward Francesco.
"Next stop," he said.
"China."
Francesco nodded.
"Shanghai."
Walker grinned.
"And Bayern."
That part definitely caught attention.
Several players nearby looked up at the mention.
Their next opponent was one of Europe's biggest clubs.
FC Bayern Munich.
Even in preseason, that match would carry a different level of intensity.
Giroud leaned forward from the seat behind them.
"Good test."
Van Dijk nodded.
"Yes."
Francesco looked out the window again as the bus turned onto the highway heading toward the airport.
The highway stretched ahead of the bus in long silver lines beneath the morning sun.
Traffic was beginning to thicken as commuters made their way into the city, but the team bus moved steadily through the lanes, guided by police escort vehicles clearing the route ahead.
Inside the bus, the atmosphere had settled into that quiet rhythm that often followed early morning travel.
Some players were already half asleep.
Others were simply staring out the windows, letting the movement of the city drift past.
Francesco leaned his head slightly against the glass as the skyline of Sydney slowly shifted around them.
The harbor shimmered briefly between buildings.
Morning sunlight reflected across the water.
For a moment the city looked peaceful.
A far contrast from the roaring stadium atmosphere of the previous night.
Across the aisle, Kyle Walker stretched his legs out slightly and yawned.
"I forgot how long flights to Asia are," he muttered.
Francesco glanced over.
"You'll sleep most of it."
Walker shrugged.
"Hopefully."
Behind them, Olivier Giroud was already discussing airplane food with Theo Walcott.
"Last time we flew this route they had excellent pasta," Giroud said confidently.
Walcott laughed.
"You remember airplane pasta?"
Giroud nodded seriously.
"Recovery nutrition."
Two rows further back, Virgil van Dijk had already closed his eyes with headphones resting comfortably over his ears.
Travel days were often about conserving energy.
Meanwhile, Alexis Sánchez scrolled through highlights of the previous night's match on his phone.
Every now and then he smiled slightly at one of the goals.
The bus eventually turned off the highway and followed the signs toward the airport terminals.
Large glass structures began to appear ahead.
Aircraft tails rose above the buildings like enormous white fins.
The bus slowed as it approached the private access entrance reserved for team arrivals.
They had arrived at Sydney Kingsford Smith Airport.
The bus rolled to a smooth stop near a private terminal entrance.
The engine hummed quietly as the driver opened the door.
Morning air flowed inside.
Players began standing up one by one, stretching their legs and grabbing their travel bags from the overhead compartments.
"Alright," Walker muttered as he stood.
"Next continent."
Francesco grabbed his backpack and stepped into the aisle.
Outside, airport staff were already waiting to assist with luggage and security procedures.
One by one, the Arsenal players stepped down from the bus and onto the pavement.
The atmosphere felt calm but organized.
Security staff guided them toward the private entrance where check-in had already been prepared in advance.
Inside the terminal, the environment was quiet compared to the busy public sections of the airport.
Large windows looked out over the runway.
Aircraft taxied slowly in the distance.
Ground crew vehicles moved carefully across the concrete.
The team moved through security smoothly.
Passports checked.
Equipment cleared.
Within minutes they were escorted toward the boarding area where the club's charter aircraft waited.
Outside the window, the plane stood ready.
A sleek white aircraft with the unmistakable red branding of Emirates along the side of the fuselage.
Its enormous wings stretched wide across the tarmac.
Several players paused briefly near the glass to look out at it.
Giroud nodded approvingly.
"Nice."
Walker grinned.
"First class too."
Soon the boarding call came.
Staff guided the squad through a private jet bridge toward the aircraft.
The interior of the plane felt cool and spacious as the players stepped inside.
This wasn't a standard commercial cabin.
The front section had been arranged with wide leather seats, spacious legroom, and large windows.
First-class travel.
The kind designed for long-haul comfort.
Players moved down the aisle looking for their seats.
Some placed bags in overhead compartments.
Others immediately sank into the large reclining chairs.
Francesco found his seat near the window and placed his backpack beneath the seat in front of him.
He leaned back and stretched his legs.
The seat felt more like a comfortable lounge chair than an airplane seat.
Across the aisle, Walker looked around approvingly.
"Now this," he said, "is proper travel."
Nearby, Van Dijk settled into his seat and adjusted the headrest.
Giroud buckled his seatbelt and glanced at the menu card placed on the tray table.
"I was right," he said triumphantly.
Walcott leaned over.
"You checked already?"
Giroud nodded.
"Pasta."
The cabin gradually filled with quiet conversation as everyone got comfortable.
At the front of the aircraft, Arsène Wenger spoke briefly with several staff members before taking his own seat.
Cabin crew moved down the aisle offering drinks and ensuring everyone was settled.
Outside the window, ground crews disconnected equipment from the aircraft.
The jet bridge slowly retracted.
The cabin lights dimmed slightly.
A calm voice came over the intercom announcing the departure.
The engines began to hum louder beneath the wings.
The plane slowly pushed back from the gate and began taxiing toward the runway.
Francesco watched through the window as the runway lights stretched ahead in long straight lines.
Walker leaned slightly across the aisle.
"Ten hours," he said.
"Ten and a half," Francesco replied.
Walker sighed.
"Sleep."
The plane turned onto the runway.
The engines roared louder.
Then the aircraft accelerated forward with powerful force.
Sydney's airport buildings blurred past the window.
The nose of the plane lifted smoothly.
Within seconds the ground fell away beneath them.
The city of Sydney spread out below like a map.
Harbor waters glimmered.
Roads turned into thin grey lines.
Soon the clouds swallowed the view completely.
The preseason tour was continuing.
Once the aircraft reached cruising altitude, the cabin relaxed into a quieter atmosphere.
Seatbelts loosened.
Seats reclined.
Lights dimmed further.
The long flight across the Pacific had begun.
Many players quickly fell asleep.
Van Dijk had already closed his eyes again within minutes.
Walker adjusted his seat into a reclined position.
"Wake me when we land," he muttered jokingly.
Francesco watched the clouds drift slowly outside the window for a few minutes before eventually leaning back himself.
The constant hum of the engines created a strangely calming rhythm.
Time seemed to stretch differently on long flights.
Hours passed.
Meals were served.
Players watched movies, listened to music, or slept through most of the journey.
At one point Sánchez walked down the aisle stretching his legs before stopping beside Francesco.
"You sleep?" he asked quietly.
"A little."
Sánchez nodded.
"Good."
He continued toward the back of the cabin.
Eventually the cabin lights brightened slightly as the crew began preparing for landing.
The captain's voice came over the intercom.
They were approaching their destination.
After 10 hours and 30 minutes in the air, the aircraft began its descent.
Francesco looked out the window again.
Clouds parted slowly beneath the wing.
Below them, the massive cityscape of Shanghai stretched toward the horizon.
Endless towers.
Highways weaving through districts.
Rivers cutting across the landscape.
The plane descended gradually toward the runway of Shanghai Pudong International Airport.
Landing gear lowered with a mechanical hum.
The runway approached quickly.
Then the wheels touched down with a firm but smooth thud.
Reverse engines roared briefly as the aircraft slowed.
Passengers felt the gentle forward pull as the plane rolled along the runway.
Eventually the aircraft turned off onto a taxiway and moved slowly toward the terminal area.
The engines softened.
Finally the plane came to a complete stop.
After a few moments, the seatbelt signs switched off.
Players began standing up and stretching again.
"China," Walker said, rubbing his eyes.
Francesco nodded.
"Shanghai."
The cabin doors opened and warm humid air drifted inside the aircraft.
Airport staff greeted the team as they stepped down from the plane.
Even inside the terminal, the scale of the airport felt enormous.
Bright lighting.
Wide corridors.
Signs written in both Chinese and English.
The Arsenal squad moved together through the private arrival channel prepared for them.
Luggage carts rolled behind them carrying equipment bags and suitcases.
Security staff guided the group smoothly through immigration procedures.
Outside the terminal building, evening light had begun to settle across the skyline.
Another team bus waited near the curb.
The red crest of Arsenal F.C. was displayed proudly on the side.
Players climbed aboard again, dropping into seats with tired but satisfied expressions.
The long flight had taken its toll.
But the next chapter of the tour was about to begin.
The bus engine started.
Slowly it pulled away from the airport.
Outside the windows, the massive highways and glowing skyscrapers of Shanghai stretched endlessly ahead as the bus headed toward the hotel where the Arsenal squad would stay before their upcoming match against Bayern Munich.
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Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 18 (2016)
Birthplace : London, England
Football Club : Arsenal First Team
Championship History : 2014/2015 Premier League, 2014/2015 FA Cup, 2015/2016 Community Shield, 2016/2017 Premier League, 2015/2016 Champions League, Euro 2016, Premier League Champion 2016/2017, and 2016/2017 Champions League.
Season 17/18 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 2
Goal: 3
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
POTM: 0
England:
Match: 0
Goal: 0
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
Season 16/17 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 55
Goal: 87
Assist: 5
MOTM: 14
POTM: 1
England:
Match: 1
Goal: 1
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
Season 15/16 stats:
Arsenal:
Match Played: 60
Goal: 82
Assist: 10
MOTM: 9
POTM: 1
England:
Match Played: 2
Goal: 4
Assist: 0
Euro 2016
Match Played: 6
Goal: 13
Assist: 4
MOTM: 6
Season 14/15 stats:
Match Played: 35
Goal: 45
Assist: 12
MOTM: 9