If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
_____________________________
(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
And with that decision, another important chapter in an extraordinary career quietly began.
The following morning, London Colney looked exactly as it always did.
The first-team training complex was already alive long before the players arrived.
Groundskeepers were making their final inspections of the pitches, ensuring every blade of grass was perfectly trimmed despite the cold February weather.
Medical staff moved between treatment rooms carrying recovery equipment.
Coaches were already discussing the day's training schedule over cups of coffee.
Inside the gym, a handful of injured players had started their rehabilitation sessions before sunrise.
Professional football never stopped.
No matter how dramatic the headlines became.
One after another, luxury cars rolled through the training ground gates.
Mesut Özil arrived first, offering a cheerful wave to the security staff before heading inside.
Alexis Sánchez followed shortly afterwards.
Robertson pulled into his usual parking space, while Walker somehow managed to greet three different people before he had even switched off his engine.
Francesco's black BMW M2 arrived a few minutes later.
As soon as he stepped out of the car, he noticed something unusual.
Normally everyone walked into the building while exchanging casual greetings.
Today, several heads immediately turned toward him.
Walker spotted him first.
"There he is!"
Robertson looked over his shoulder.
"The celebrity has arrived."
Alexis laughed.
"You've been making more headlines than goals this week."
"I didn't think that was possible."
Francesco shook his head with an amused smile.
"I was wondering how long it would take."
"About three seconds," Walker replied.
"Come on."
"We've got questions."
"I knew you would."
Before Francesco could even reach the entrance, half a dozen teammates had gathered around him.
Walker.
Robertson.
Smith Rowe.
Nketiah.
Saka.
Alexis.
Even Özil, usually content to observe quietly, slowed his pace enough to join the conversation.
The group walked together toward the dressing room.
Walker folded his arms dramatically.
"Right."
"We'll begin the press conference."
Robertson sighed.
"Please don't."
"I've always wanted to host one."
"You'd be terrible."
"I'd be outstanding."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
Several players laughed.
Walker pointed toward Francesco.
"Question one."
"What actually happened with Mendes?"
The smiles around the group softened.
The joking atmosphere remained.
But beneath it was genuine curiosity.
Nobody asked out of gossip.
They asked because Francesco was their teammate.
Their friend.
Francesco was quiet for a moment.
He looked at the faces around him.
People he trusted.
People he had celebrated victories with.
People who had stood beside him through difficult defeats.
Finally, he spoke.
"I'll tell you."
A brief pause followed.
"But…"
"I'd appreciate it if this stayed between us."
The entire group nodded almost immediately.
Walker spoke first.
"You've got our word."
Alexis nodded.
"Of course."
Robertson added quietly,
"This doesn't leave this room."
Francesco took a slow breath.
"It wasn't about contracts."
"It wasn't about money."
"It wasn't because we argued."
The players listened carefully.
"It was Cristiano."
Several eyebrows lifted.
"Ronaldo?" Saka asked quietly.
Francesco nodded.
"He wasn't happy."
"He believed Jorge always sided with me whenever situations involving both of us came up."
Nobody interrupted.
"He asked Jorge to choose."
Silence settled over the corridor.
Francesco continued calmly.
"Jorge chose Cristiano."
The words hung in the air for several seconds.
Walker blinked.
"…Seriously?"
Francesco nodded.
"He told me himself."
"He came to my house."
"He explained everything face to face."
Alexis slowly shook his head.
"That couldn't have been easy."
"It wasn't."
Robertson leaned against one of the lockers.
"But you weren't angry?"
Francesco thought about the question before answering.
"I was disappointed."
"Very disappointed."
"But…"
"I understood."
Smith Rowe looked slightly confused.
"You understood?"
"Loyalty."
Francesco smiled faintly.
"Cristiano was Jorge's client long before I was."
"He helped build Jorge's career."
"If he felt he owed Cristiano that loyalty…"
"I can't really blame him."
The room remained quiet.
Even Walker wasn't joking anymore.
Saka looked thoughtful.
"I don't know if I could've handled it that calmly."
Francesco shrugged gently.
"Maybe."
"But I don't think holding onto anger would've helped anyone."
Alexis folded his arms.
"That's why you've moved on already."
"I've tried to."
Walker finally spoke again.
"I've got to admit…"
"I would've been furious."
Several teammates laughed.
"You get furious when someone finishes the last dessert," Robertson reminded him.
"That's completely different."
"It really isn't."
The laughter helped lighten the mood again.
A few moments later, Özil spoke.
His voice, as always, was calm.
"So…"
"Why Jonathan Barnett?"
Everyone immediately looked back toward Francesco.
That was the question every journalist wanted answered.
Only this conversation wasn't taking place in front of television cameras.
It was happening among teammates.
Francesco leaned back against one of the benches.
"I spoke with a lot of agents."
Heads nodded.
"We all figured."
"They called almost immediately after the news broke."
"I believe that."
"But Barnett didn't just call."
"He came to my house."
The room fell quiet again.
"He came by himself."
"No assistants."
"No photographers."
"No presentation trying to impress me."
"He just wanted to talk."
Walker raised an eyebrow.
"Seriously?"
Francesco nodded.
"For almost an hour."
"We barely discussed business during the first half."
"What did you talk about?" Nketiah asked.
"Life."
"Responsibility."
"Pressure."
"Family."
"Trust."
"He spent more time listening than talking."
Robertson smiled slightly.
"That's usually a good sign."
"I thought so too."
Francesco looked around the room.
"Every other conversation started with contracts."
"Commercial opportunities."
"Percentages."
"Barnett started by asking me…"
"'How are you?'"
Nobody spoke.
"He genuinely wanted to know."
Alexis nodded slowly.
"That tells you a lot about someone."
"It did."
Francesco continued.
"He never criticised Jorge."
"He never tried convincing me that Jorge had made the wrong decision."
"He actually respected Jorge's loyalty."
That surprised several players.
Walker scratched his head.
"I wasn't expecting that."
"Neither was I."
Francesco smiled.
"I think that's when I started trusting him."
Robertson looked curious.
"So why choose him over everyone else?"
Francesco answered honestly.
"Because I believe he'll always tell me the truth."
"And because he came personally."
"He could've sent assistants."
"He could've arranged a meeting through lawyers."
"He didn't."
"He drove to my house himself."
"He earned the opportunity."
The dressing room remained thoughtful.
Then Walker asked the question that had been sitting quietly in everyone's minds.
"What about Gareth Bale?"
Several players looked toward him.
Walker shrugged.
"What?"
"Barnett represents Gareth too."
Francesco nodded.
"I know."
"So…"
"What if something similar happened again?"
The question hung in the air.
Francesco smiled slightly.
"I thought about that."
"And?"
"I don't think it would."
Walker frowned.
"Why?"
Francesco answered without hesitation.
"Because Gareth isn't Cristiano."
Nobody interpreted the comment as criticism.
It wasn't.
It was simply Francesco explaining his reasoning.
He continued carefully.
"I don't see Gareth putting Jonathan in that position."
"And even if something difficult did happen…"
"I believe Jonathan would handle it differently."
"What makes you so sure?" Robertson asked.
Francesco thought for a moment before replying.
"Because during our conversation…"
"He made me feel like I wasn't simply another client."
"He made me feel like someone whose career genuinely mattered to him."
"He already represents world-class players."
"That doesn't bother me."
"But I also believe…"
He paused briefly before smiling.
"I'll become the biggest player he represents."
The confidence in his voice wasn't arrogant.
It was simply belief.
Belief earned through years of performances.
Through trophies.
Through Ballons d'Or.
Through countless goals.
Alexis grinned.
"I like that answer."
Walker laughed.
"Very confident."
Francesco shrugged.
"If I don't believe in myself…"
"Who will?"
Saka smiled quietly.
"Fair enough."
Walker suddenly pointed dramatically.
"So basically…"
"You chose the man who drove to your house, listened to you for an hour, respected your former agent…"
"…and didn't try to sell you dreams."
Francesco laughed.
"When you put it like that…"
"Yes."
Walker nodded seriously.
"I actually understand."
Robertson looked sideways at him.
"You?"
"What?"
"You understand something."
Walker placed a hand over his heart.
"That hurts."
"I have depth."
"You hide it very well."
The group burst into laughter again.
The heavy conversation finally gave way to the familiar atmosphere that always seemed to surround this Arsenal squad.
Just then, Wenger entered the dressing room carrying a folder beneath one arm.
He immediately noticed the unusually large group gathered around Francesco.
The manager raised an eyebrow.
"I hope nobody has started today's tactical meeting without me."
Walker answered instantly.
"No, boss."
"We were discussing agents."
Wenger looked toward Francesco.
"So I gathered."
The Frenchman smiled faintly.
"I trust everything is settled now?"
Francesco nodded.
"It is."
"Good."
Wenger gave a small approving nod.
"Then leave the newspapers to the journalists."
"The only headlines we concern ourselves with now…"
He glanced around the dressing room.
"…are the ones created on the pitch."
Several players nodded immediately.
The focus shifted almost automatically.
That was Wenger's gift.
One sentence.
One reminder.
Everyone understood.
The past few days had been filled with headlines.
Statements.
Speculation.
Interviews.
Agent negotiations.
But none of that would matter when the whistle blew next weekend.
Football had a habit of moving on remarkably quickly.
Training kits were collected.
Boots were laced.
Conversations gradually turned from agents and media back to pressing drills, passing patterns, finishing exercises and the next Premier League fixture.
As the squad walked together toward the training pitches beneath the cold Hertfordshire sky, Francesco found himself feeling unexpectedly light.
The uncertainty surrounding his future off the pitch had disappeared.
His teammates knew the truth.
They had respected his request to keep the details private.
Jonathan Barnett was now his representative.
That chapter was closed.
Ahead of him stretched a perfectly prepared training pitch, a football resting on the grass and another opportunity to improve.
Then the cold morning air lingered over London Colney as the final whistle of training echoed across the pitches.
Immediately the intensity disappeared.
The sharp bursts of acceleration.
The crunching tackles.
The constant communication.
Everything slowly dissolved into the familiar rhythm of recovery.
Players bent over with hands resting on their knees, catching their breath after another demanding session.
Several members of the coaching staff gathered footballs scattered across the immaculate grass while fitness coaches compared notes on tablets.
Arsène Wenger watched quietly from the touchline for another moment before clapping his hands together.
"Good work, everyone."
"We recover this afternoon."
"I'll see you tomorrow."
The players answered almost in unison.
"Thanks, boss."
"See you tomorrow."
One by one they began walking back toward the first-team building.
Walker immediately draped an arm over Robertson's shoulders.
"I've decided."
Robertson sighed dramatically.
"That's never good."
"I'm starving."
"You were starving before training."
"I burned calories."
"You replaced them halfway through the warm-up."
"I've got a fast metabolism."
"You've got a fast appetite."
Alexis laughed as he walked beside them.
"I think those are different things."
Walker looked offended.
"They're exactly the same."
"They absolutely are not."
The laughter followed them all the way inside.
The dressing room welcomed them with welcome warmth after nearly two hours outside in the February weather.
Boots were kicked off.
Training tops disappeared into laundry baskets.
The room filled with the familiar sounds that followed every session.
Lockers opening.
Tape being peeled from wrists.
Players comparing bruises.
Someone quietly playing music from a portable speaker.
Saka sat on the bench removing his shin pads while Smith Rowe nudged him.
"You survived another Walker lecture."
"I don't think anyone survives those."
Walker overheard immediately.
"I heard that."
"You were supposed to."
The room laughed again.
Francesco smiled as he pulled off his training shirt.
Despite the headlines surrounding him over the last forty-eight hours, everything inside London Colney already felt normal again.
That was one of the things he loved about football.
No matter what happened away from the pitch, the dressing room always brought everyone back to earth.
He grabbed a towel before making his way toward the shower room.
Warm steam drifted through the tiled area.
Several players were already inside, letting the hot water wash away the fatigue that had settled into tired muscles.
The sound of running water echoed softly around the room.
Francesco stepped beneath one of the showers and closed his eyes.
The warm water ran across his shoulders, easing away the tightness that remained from both the Swansea match and the morning's training session.
For several peaceful minutes, he simply stood there.
No interviews.
No speculation.
No difficult conversations.
Just the comforting routine that had become part of his life since becoming a professional footballer.
Eventually he finished showering, dried himself and changed into a charcoal jumper, dark jeans and a navy overcoat.
His training bag rested comfortably over one shoulder as he walked back through the dressing room.
"See you tomorrow," Alexis called while tying his trainers.
"See you."
Walker pointed toward him.
"And don't let any more agents show up at your house."
Francesco laughed.
"I'll try."
"If another one arrives, send him to me."
"You want a new agent?"
"No."
"I just want someone to negotiate free desserts."
Robertson buried his face in his hands.
"I give up."
Everyone laughed one final time before beginning to leave.
Outside, the afternoon sun had started breaking through the clouds.
The training ground looked peaceful again.
Cars gradually pulled away from the parking area in different directions across Hertfordshire and London.
Francesco unlocked his black BMW M2.
The familiar flash of the headlights greeted him before he climbed inside.
The engine rumbled into life with its familiar deep note.
He rested both hands on the steering wheel for a brief second.
Home.
That was all he was thinking about now.
Leah would probably already be back from her own training.
Cheddar would almost certainly be waiting by the front window again.
The thought alone made him smile.
Leaving London Colney behind, he merged smoothly onto the motorway heading toward Richmond.
Traffic flowed steadily.
Nothing unusual.
The radio played quietly in the background while winter sunlight occasionally reflected across the windscreen.
About twenty minutes into the journey, the BMW's hands-free system chimed gently.
The dashboard displayed a familiar name.
Jonathan Barnett.
Francesco pressed the button on the steering wheel.
"Hello, Jonathan."
"Good afternoon, Francesco."
"Am I catching you at a bad time?"
"Not at all."
"I'm driving home."
"Perfect."
"I won't keep you long."
There was a brief pause before Barnett continued.
"I wanted to update you."
Francesco immediately became attentive.
"I'm listening."
"The news of us working together has travelled incredibly quickly."
"I expected that."
"So did I."
Barnett gave a small chuckle.
"But perhaps not quite this quickly."
"What happened?"
"I've already received enquiries from several clubs."
Francesco kept his eyes on the road.
"Clubs?"
"Yes."
"They wanted to know whether you'd consider leaving Arsenal."
Francesco wasn't surprised.
Whenever one of the biggest players in world football changed representation, speculation always followed.
"So…"
"What did you tell them?"
"I told every single one exactly the same thing."
Barnett's answer came without hesitation.
"I told them you weren't interested."
A small smile appeared on Francesco's face.
"Thank you."
"I didn't think I needed to ask first."
"You didn't."
"My future is here."
"I know."
Barnett's voice remained calm and professional.
"I also made it very clear that unless you personally tell me otherwise, I won't entertain discussions about transfers."
"I appreciate that."
"Arsenal have placed enormous trust in me."
"Wenger has too."
"I'm not looking to leave."
"That's exactly what I wanted to hear."
The conversation paused briefly as Francesco overtook a slower vehicle before returning to the inside lane.
Barnett continued.
"There's one more thing."
"Go ahead."
"I've officially received all of your sponsorship and commercial agreements from Jorge's agency."
Francesco nodded.
"I assumed that would happen."
"It has."
"And before I signed anything confirming receipt…"
"I went through every document personally."
Francesco listened quietly.
"I wanted to make absolutely certain everything was genuine."
"Every signature."
"Every clause."
"Every payment schedule."
"Every commercial obligation."
"I checked them all."
"You did?"
"Yes."
"I wasn't questioning Jorge."
"I simply believe that before I become responsible for someone's career…"
"I should know exactly what I'm taking over."
Francesco couldn't help but smile.
Only two days into their professional relationship, Barnett had already demonstrated the same meticulous attention to detail that had impressed him during their meeting.
"And?"
"Everything is exactly as it should be."
Barnett replied confidently.
"Every sponsorship contract is authentic."
"Every agreement is valid."
"There are no irregularities."
"No hidden clauses."
"No missing documents."
"Everything has been transferred properly."
A quiet sense of relief settled over Francesco.
He had trusted Jorge completely during the years they had worked together, but hearing Barnett confirm that every agreement had been carefully reviewed gave him additional peace of mind.
"That's good to hear."
"I thought you'd appreciate knowing."
"I do."
Barnett continued.
"For the next few days my legal team will organise everything internally."
"You don't need to worry about any of it."
"If anything requires your attention…"
"You'll hear from me immediately."
"Perfect."
"Thank you, Jonathan."
"My job is to make your life easier."
"So you can focus on football."
Francesco smiled.
"I'd say you're doing a good job already."
"I intend to keep it that way."
After exchanging a few final words, the conversation came to a natural close.
"I'll let you get home."
"Give Leah my regards."
"I will."
"And enjoy your evening."
"You too."
The call ended.
The BMW settled once more into peaceful silence.
Francesco rested one hand lightly on the steering wheel as Richmond's familiar streets gradually came into view ahead.
He found himself thinking back to the conversation with Barnett.
No promises of impossible transfers.
No pressure to chase the biggest offer.
No unnecessary drama.
Instead…
A simple update.
Honest communication.
Clear reassurance that everything was under control.
It confirmed exactly why he had chosen him.
For the first time since Jorge Mendes had walked into his office to end their partnership, Francesco realised that the uncertainty had finally disappeared completely.
His future at Arsenal remained exactly where he wanted it to be.
His new representative had already made that clear to the rest of Europe.
And as the gates of his Richmond mansion slowly opened in front of the approaching BMW, Francesco drove through them with the comforting feeling that both his football career and the people guiding it were once again moving in the same direction.
______________________________________________
Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 19 (2017)
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: 36
Goal: 43
Assist: 3
MOTM: 5
POTM: 0
England:
Match: 2
Goal: 2
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