Football singularity

Please vote to show me your support for the story. The higher we climb in the rankings, the more motivated I will feel. Mass releases will be rewarded for each 10 rankings we manage to climb.

#More than 10 chapters ahead on my Patreon: patreon.com/TrikoRex

{!!!Please leave a review, it helps me a lot and lets me know how many people are invested in the future of this novel!!!}

~~~

[20/11/2019 | Time: 13:00| Location: Düsseldorf Airport]

Rakim felt a gentle jolt as the wheels of their Lufthansa flight touched down at Düsseldorf Airport. He glanced sideways at Florian, who had dozed off, headphones slightly askew. Smiling softly, Rakim nudged him awake.

"Wirtzy boy, we're home," he teased as he proceeded to flick his friend on the head, waking him from his light sleep.

Florian rubbed his eyes, blinking rapidly as his eyes quickly adjusted to the light. "Already? I felt like we'd just left Poland a moment ago."

"Yeah, so get up or you'll be flying right back to Poland," Rakim retorted as he fished out his carry-on LV duffel bag and the smaller Essential pouch with his valuables. He was dressed in a Navy Sainclair suit from his sponsors, brown loafers, and his silver Air King watch.

"Naw, airlines are too stingy to take me on a free return flight, it would just unlock a side story," He retorted with a light smile but got up from his comfortable cabin, nonetheless. He was also dressed in a navy suit originating from the Armani designer, giving him a mature look.

"If you know your purpose and your compass stays true, you will never get lost on branching paths," Rakim responded, channelling a sagely demeanour as he looked out the window, letting the afternoon sun hit him at just the right angle.

(Thwack) A second later, a blue neck pillow hit the back of his head, completely ruining the moment. "Just hurry up, we are probably holding up the people in the economy section." Wirtz retorted as he proceeded to head to the back, where the stairs were located just behind the thick grey curtains. "Where does he even get these fortune cookie quotes?"

They quickly navigated through customs, their priority boarding in business class did its thing by protecting them from regular passengers. Surprisingly, they weren't bothered by anyone in the business suit either, with most folks just ignoring them as they were simply too busy completing last-minute assignments. Only when they went through Grenz controlle, (Customs) were they finally recognised by the border police handling their entry into the country?

After a couple of rounds of selfies and signing some hats, they were let through with little fuss. At the arrivals gate stood Matthias, one of Leverkusen's staff members, holding a welcoming sign emblazoned with the Bayer Leverkusen crest. "Welcome back, boys," Matthias greeted warmly, ushering them towards a sleek Mercedes Sprinter van waiting just outside. "I hope your journey treated you kindly."

Rakim was the one to reply after stuffing his Beats headphones into his small LV essentials bag meant for his daily necessities. "It wasn't too bad, slept through most of it?"

Matthias chuckled as he opened the van door for them. "Good. You both deserve a good rest after the show you put on over the tournament. All of us are proud of what we witnessed and can't wait to see you light up the Bay Arena, lord knows we need it right now."

Rakim nearly hummed at the man's words as he climbed into the van first, settling into the middle row of plush leather seats. Wirtz followed, tossing his duffel casually onto the seat next to him. The van pulled away from the terminal smoothly, the low hum of the engine filling the quiet space as Matthias manoeuvred them out toward the autobahn.

Outside the tinted windows, Düsseldorf sped past — grey skies streaked with pale sunlight, neat lines of trees flashing by, the pulse of the city fading into the open roads. "So, the team has been struggling, huh?" Wirtz finally voiced the obvious question that Rakim was too lazy to ask.

"Struggling isn't the word I would use, it's just we have been all over the place, 3 draws, 1 loss and 1 win this month. We are still in the top six, but we have lost some of our early momentum." Matthias lamented with a sigh as he stepped down on the throttle, seemingly releasing his frustration.

"At least we beat Atletico in the Champions League group stage?" Wirtz tried to comfort the man who loved the club with a passion.

Matthias offered a tired smile through the rear-view mirror. "Yeah, that win kept our heads above water. But we need more consistency. We beat strong teams but stumble against weak ones."

~~~

[20/11/2019 | Time: 13:27 | Location: Leverkusen – Bayer 04 Training Grounds]

As the Sprinter van rolled past the security gates of the Bayer Leverkusen training complex, the mood inside the vehicle shifted. From the outside, everything looked normal — a typical November day in western Germany, chilly with patches of sun darting through the clouds. But the moment the van eased to a stop in front of the club's headquarters, Rakim noticed the faint stir of movement behind the tinted glass lobby doors.

"Wait… what's with the—" Rakim began, but the van doors slid open before he could finish.

"Congratulations!"

A burst of cheers, clapping, and a few vuvuzelas sounded off as staff members, youth academy players, and even a few first-team squad members stepped forward. Red and black streamers fluttered in the wind, and a modest "Welcome Back, Champions!" banner stretched across the entrance. There were a few club photographers positioned around, already snapping pictures of the returning duo.

Wirtz froze in place for a second. "Bro… is this for us?"

Rakim chuckled as he stepped down. "I mean, we did just win a trophy, didn't we?"

Wirtz joined him, shaking his head in disbelief. "Man, that gave me a scare. I thought they were here to drag us to the training ground and make us work."

"Guess someone up there has a soft spot," Rakim murmured, eyeing the head of marketing, Marcus, who was giving thumbs up to the photographers. The man's sharp blazer and phone-in-hand pose gave away the PR spin already brewing.

Simon Rolfes stepped forward, his expression a blend of pride and calculated professionalism. "Gentlemen," he greeted, voice clear and warm. "What you achieved in Poland might not go down in the global football books just yet, but here at Leverkusen, we recognise what it means for our club and our future."

He extended a hand to both of them, shaking both their hands as the nearby staff cheered in joy. A second later, two staff members brought a large, white, exquisitely designed cake that depicted the U-20 World Cup trophy.

Florian let out a low whistle. "That cake's nicer than my birthday one."

"Probably cost more too," Rakim muttered with a grin, taking in the detailed frosting — his number 22 jersey etched in edible ink beside Wirtz's 7, both figures standing triumphant over a world map-shaped base. Someone had definitely gone the extra mile. "Though coach will probably have our necks if he sees us eat this."

A brief round of light-hearted laughter erupted around them as some of the players sympathised with the words. "Never mind him I'm more afraid of Dr. Clara, she will probably have me eating rice and boiled chicken for months."

"Don't worry, I'm willing to turn a blind eye for one slice for our returning heroes," Dr. Clara, the young nutritionist, said from the side as she adjusted the brim of her glasses. "You will have to make up for it during training, though."

"Ugh, I knew there was a catch to all this, they're gonna have us wrung dry," Wirtz loudly lamented, much to the pleasure of those around them. Despite his words, he still honestly cut the cake in ceremony so the kitchen staff could do the rest.

Just as the first slice of cake was ceremonially handed to Florian, who theatrically bowed before accepting it, the celebratory mood continued to blossom with the arrival of Manager Peter Bosz. Flanked by Assistant Manager Fredrick Bauer, the two carried an air of discipline softened by a proud glint in their eyes.

Bosz approached the pair, his steps even and deliberate. "You two made a statement," he said without preamble. "But now, the real work begins. International tournaments are.. What's the word side missions, as my kids like to say, no? The real work is the trenches of the Bundesliga, where you earn your wage."

"Yes, Sir," they both replied in unison as Wirtz wiped a bit of cream off his lip. "So… no extra recovery days?"

Fredrick let out a laugh. "We'll talk schedule in the morning. For now, enjoy the moment. You've earned it."

The crowd began to thin after another round of photos and warm handshakes. Rakim stood to the side for a moment, watching as the U-17 academy boys swarmed Wirtz for autographs, their eyes wide with admiration. He had been one of them at the start of the season but had not only clawed his way up to the main team but had now won a trophy representing their country.

"I guess it's time to chase the next piece of silverware," Rakim muttered as his fork dug into his plate, savouring the red velvet-flavoured piece of cake.

{Maybe it's time we activated the challenge protocol?} Eva's voice sounded in his mind bringing a confused expression to his face.

.

.

.

.

To Be Continued...