Arch Smith sat on a park bench in New York City. Staring up at the sky, which happened to be particularly moody on that day. His baggy black sweatpants draped across his shoes, flapping along with the small gusts of wind. His backpack of the same color resting on the bench as he let out a sigh.
He was approaching his senior year, in fact, high-school started back up again in only a week or two.
'Already?'
Arch wasn't fond of his school, he had friends, but he didn't have someone he'd ride or die for, and it wasn't helping that the soccer time always sucked. He felt like he was bearing an unimaginable burden, like Atlas. A captain with an incompetent team. Like a great pilot with a rust bucket of a plane. Except a great pilot could make any plane fly. As much as he hated it, his coach had been right.
'A captain is nothing without his team...'
He wasn't anywhere near satisfied with his life. He had been playing since he was a kid, yet he could never overcome a bunch of cushy prep school kids, or a group of rich kids who had their parents pay for their academy.
His other hand scrolled through his social media as he sighed and unzipped his gray full zip, letting the air hit his arms.
'Her...'
He stopped on a girl's post. One of the cheerleaders, he always thought she was cute.
And he would've focused on that, if there wasn't a green holographic screen clouding his vision, almost mocking him.
[Quest: Become the best in the world. Duration: 20 years. Status: Incomplete. Rewards: Unclear.]
'This again...'
"You never cease to mock me, huh?"
He remembered the first time the screen showed up in his childhood. Saying some crap about 'admiring his dreams' and 'wanting to realize them', yet all it did was stick a stupid unreachable quest in his face and do nothing else, like it was one big prank.
And then his phone dinged while he was scrolling, and he quickly swiped away the system message. Instead, he stared at the message from his coach.
[Got a scout here, he wants to talk to you. Might be a good opportunity...come over right now.]
Arch suddenly smiled.
'A scout? Really?'
He got up and grabbed his bag, running to his high school.
His open sweatshirt flapped in the wind on his body as he dashed through crowded block to crowded block, people yelling at him pretty much every second. But he couldn't care less, jaywalking across streets, until he got to the brick building of Sawchucket high school.
His smile kept gleaming as he walked into the school and towards the gym. He could barely keep his heart from thumping out of his chest, yet he had the nagging feeling he should appreciate the sight of the old brick walls of his school, the dusty old trophy cases that hadn't been touched in years, the many leaks in the ceiling. And the terrible, terrible food.
'If I ever leave this place...I really won't miss it.'
When he found his way to his coach's office, he saw the man through the window. The so-called scout, was a buff man, looking to be in his late 50s. Gray hair with a bushy beard, sunglasses, and a Hawaii shirt, complimented by his comparatively drab black shorts.
He took a deep breath and entered the office, as his coach and the man both looked up at him.
His coach was a young man, late 20s. Knew what was best for a young player like him. He was practically bald, wearing a sawchucket sweatshirt and pants.
"Arch, glad you could make it. Take a seat."
Arch reluctantly sat down and looked at his coach, trying to avoid the scouts obtuse gaze behind his sunglasses.
"So...what is it, coach?"
His coach sighed.
"Well, this is Paul, Paul Rohdam. He's from the UK."
When Arch heard the word UK his eyes suddenly widened bit.
'A scout from...Europe? Why are they here?'
His thoughts were interrupted by a gruff voice with a thick Scottish accent.
"That's right, lad. I've been looking around here for a few days, and you seem like just the kid I need."
Arch suddenly seemed a bit suspicious of the whole ordeal. His expression doing nothing to hide it.
"Just the kid you need?"
Paul smiled, his bright white teeth shining with his toothy grin.
"That's right, and I've heard from your coach little birdie here is trying to leave the nest. So, this is your chance."
'Just my chance? To leave?'
"You don't mean...?"
Paul slid him an envelope. The words, The Curve, plastered across the front as a stamp.
"My number's in there. Give me a call when you make your choice."
Paul let out a gruff laugh and then left the office, leaving Arch and his coach.
"Look, Arch, I want you to promise me something."
His coach leaned forward, looking him right in the eyes. As Arch simply nodded.
"Promise me, you won't refuse this offer."
Arch looked a bit surprised.
"Coach, what? I...I can't just leave that easily."
"But you can, Arch! You're a generational talent! We're all just deadweight, you only deserve the best, and this guy here. He's the best."
Time passed quick from then, and Arch found himself calling the number that was left behind in the envelope. An answer quickly returning.
"Figured you'd call kid."
Arch grit his teeth and sighed.
"I'm in."
He heard Paul's gruff laugh once again.
"Damn right you are. Welcome to The Curve."
[New quest: The Curve]