Manchester City's preseason had gone smoothly, and by the end of July they were ready to begin their run of Premier League fixtures.
The mood around the ground was familiar—anticipation, optimism, and a sea of sky blue pouring through the turnstiles of Maine Road. Vendors shouted, scarves waved, and the usual chants rolled down from the Kippax like distant thunder. But there was something off today.
Amid the blue, small pockets of supporters wore black-and-blue shirts that didn't match any official kit. The lettering across their chests was crude but clear:
RICHARD MADDOX OUT!
It wasn't loud. Not yet. But it was visible.
Too visible.
Inside the stadium offices, Richard hadn't noticed. He was still in discussion with staff over the reports when a knock came at the door.
Miss Heysen stepped in, followed by a man Richard recognized immediately—Carl Morran of the Blazing Squad.
Richard was taken aback at the sight of him.
