Michael stood on the balcony of his office, sipping a lukewarm coffee that tasted like battery acid. He looked down at the pristine training pitch below.
"Two weeks," Michael muttered to the grey sky. "Two weeks until the Bernabeu."
Behind him, Arthur Milton was hyperventilating into a paper bag.
"Boss," Arthur squeaked, lowering the bag. "I checked the flight details. The pilot is a Manchester United fan. Do you think he'll crash us on purpose?"
"Arthur," Michael turned around, his purple tie loose around his neck. "If he crashes us, Diego will eat him before we hit the ground. We're safe."
"Right. Good point. Diego is... distinct."
Michael chuckled. The draw against Real Madrid had sent shockwaves through the club. The media was calling it "Bambi vs. Godzilla." Kenji Sato was already pre-selling commemorative scarves. But for the players?
It was Tuesday. And Tuesday meant Murderball.
The Pitch
