Michael Sterling was the only person awake at the Sterling Era Training Complex.

He sat in his office. The room was quiet. The coffee machine hummed softly in the corner.

On his desk sat a bottle of champagne that Arthur Milton had given him. It was unopened. Michael did not need alcohol to feel dizzy. The reality was enough.

Premier League. He said the words out loud to the empty room.

"Premier League."

They tasted sweet. Like sugar and victory.

The door clicked open. Arthur walked in. He looked remarkably fresh for a man who had gotten married on Saturday and promoted on Sunday. He carried a thick binder under his arm.

"Good morning Boss," Arthur said, placing the binder on the desk with a heavy thud.

"Morning Arthur. Is that the budget for next season?"

"No," Arthur smiled. "That is the history book. The Season Review. The numbers."

Michael opened the binder.

THE BARNSLEY FC SEASON REPORT

Final Position: 2nd (Promoted)

Points: 92

Wins: 28

Draws: 8

Losses: 10

Goals Scored: 88 (League High)

Goals Conceded: 40

"We scored eighty eight goals," Michael whispered. "Do you remember last season Arthur? We struggled to score forty."

"We did not have monsters last season," Arthur reminded him. "Turn the page."

Michael turned the page. This was the individual breakdown. The Hall of Fame.

TOP SCORER: Danny Fletcher (30 Goals)

The Prince. He had done it. He had scored thirty goals in the Championship. That was a number that big clubs paid fifty million pounds for.

"He won the Golden Boot," Arthur said proudly. "He beat Vardy by one goal because of that tap in yesterday. The Prince is now the King."

Michael looked at the next stat.

MOST ASSISTS: Kai Sora (24 Assists)

Twenty four assists. It was a league record.

"Look at the heat map," Arthur chuckled pointing at a diagram on the page.

The heat map showed where Kai had moved during the season. It was a tiny red circle in the middle of the pitch. He had barely left the center circle all year.

"He stood still and conquered the world," Michael laughed. "He is the most efficient genius in history."

MOST TACKLES: Shaun Higgins (112)

MOST INTERCEPTIONS: Kenji Sato (98)

MOST DISTANCE COVERED: Kenji Sato (Too high to calculate)

"The machine broke?" Michael asked pointing at Kenji's stat.

"It stopped counting at three hundred kilometers," Arthur explained. "Kenji ran to London and back twice effectively. We need to buy him new legs for the summer."

YELLOW CARDS: Diego Nunez (14)

"Only fourteen?" Michael raised an eyebrow. "I thought it was more."

"The referees are scared of him," Arthur admitted. "He growls at them and they put the card back in their pocket. It is a very effective strategy."

Michael closed the binder. He leaned back in his chair.

"We really did it Arthur. These numbers... they are not just stats. They are blood and sweat."

"mostly sweat from Kenji," Arthur noted. "And blood from the people Diego tackled."

"Tonight is the awards dinner," Michael said standing up. "Are the players ready?"

"They are ready," Arthur grinned. "Isaiah King bought a suit. It is bright pink. I tried to stop him but he said it is fashion."

The Barnsley Town Hall was decorated in red and white. It looked magnificent.

The entire squad was there along with the staff and the families.

Diego Nunez sat at table four with his mother. She was feeding him bread rolls even though dinner had not started. Diego looked happy.

Kai Sora was wearing a tuxedo with sneakers. He was asleep with his head on the table. Kenji Sato was sitting next to him gently fanning him with a menu to keep him cool.

Isaiah King walked in. Arthur was right. The suit was pink. Very pink. It looked like a flamingo had exploded.

"Do not say anything," Isaiah warned Michael as he walked past. "This is London style. You northerners do not understand drip."

"You look like a strawberry milkshake Isaiah," Michael smiled. "But you scored the winning assist so I will allow it."

The ceremony began.

Michael walked to the microphone. The room went silent.

"Welcome everyone," Michael said. "To the celebration of the Misfits."

Cheering erupted from the players table. Higgins banged his fist on the table so hard the cutlery jumped.

"We have some awards to give out," Michael announced.

THE GOLDEN BOOT

"This goes to a man who started the season with ghosts in his head and ended it as a legend," Michael said.

"Danny Fletcher."

Danny walked up to the stage. He looked sharp in a black suit. He took the golden trophy.

"I want to thank the Boss," Danny said holding the microphone. "And I want to thank Kai for passing me the ball even when I was shouting at him. And I want to thank the post at Wembley. Because hitting it made me stronger."

The room applauded. It was a classy speech.

PLAYER OF THE SEASON

The fans had voted.

"This player changed everything," Michael said. "He does not run much. He does not tackle much. But he sees things nobody else sees."

Michael paused.

"Kai Sora."

Kai lifted his head off the table. He looked confused. Kenji nudged him.

"You won Kai san," Kenji whispered.

Kai stood up. He walked slowly to the stage. He took the trophy. It was heavy.

"Thank you," Kai said into the microphone. "This is heavy. Kenji can you carry it for me?"

The room exploded with laughter. Kenji ran up and took the trophy bowing to the audience.

YOUNG PLAYER OF THE SEASON

"He is small. He is loud. And he wears pink suits," Michael announced. "Isaiah King."

Isaiah sprinted to the stage. He grabbed the microphone.

"I told you!" Isaiah shouted. "Arsenal are watching this on TV crying right now! We are Premier League baby! The pink panther is coming for the top!"

He did a little dance and moonwalked off the stage.

THE WARRIOR AWARD

"This is a new award," Michael said. "For the player who scares the opposition the most."

"DIEGO!" the whole room shouted.

Diego Nunez lumbered up to the stage. He looked massive next to Michael.

"I like this," Diego grunted looking at the metal shield trophy. "I can use this to block shots. Thank you."

He went back to his table and gave the shield to his mother who immediately started polishing it with a napkin.

The night went on. There was food. There was dancing.

Shaun Higgins danced with Arthur's new wife Martha. It was adorable because Higgins tried to be gentle but still looked like he was wrestling a bear.

Michael stood at the back of the room watching them.

His phone buzzed.

He pulled it out.

[SYSTEM UPDATE COMPLETE]

[NEW SEASON LOADING...]

[PREMIER LEAGUE DATABASE: INSTALLED]

[FEATURE UNLOCKED: EYES OF THE FOUNDER]

Michael stared at the screen.

He looked up at the room. He looked at Kenji Sato.

Above Kenji's head a golden box appeared. Only Michael could see it.

NAME: KENJI SATO

TRUE VALUE: £45,000,000

STATUS: LOYAL

Forty five million. They had bought him for fifty thousand.

He looked at Isaiah.

NAME: ISAIAH KING

TRUE VALUE: £60,000,000

STATUS: HUNGRY

He looked at Diego.

NAME: DIEGO NUNEZ

TRUE VALUE: £55,000,000

STATUS: PROTECTOR

And then he looked at Kai Sora.

The box above Kai was not gold. It was platinum. It shimmered with a rainbow light.

NAME: KAI SORA

TRUE VALUE: PRICELESS

STATUS: THE ARCHITECT

POTENTIAL: WORLD CLASS

Michael put the phone away.

He had built a squad worth hundreds of millions of pounds from scraps and rejects.

Arthur walked over holding a glass of apple juice.

"You are smiling Boss," Arthur said. "What do you see?"

"I see the future Arthur," Michael said.

"And it is expensive."

"We need a break," Arthur said. "Take a holiday Michael. Go to a beach. Turn off the phone."

"I will," Michael lied. "But first we need to plan. The Premier League is different Arthur. We are not big fish anymore. We are minnows in a tank of sharks."

"We have a Bull," Arthur pointed out looking at Diego. "And a Butcher. Sharks should be scared of us."

Michael laughed.

"To the Dynasty," Michael said raising his glass.

"To the Dynasty," Arthur replied.

The music got louder. Isaiah King started a conga line. He grabbed Kai who grabbed Kenji who grabbed Diego.

The Misfits danced around the room. A pink suit. A tuxedo with sneakers. A giant Uruguayan.

They looked ridiculous.

But they were the best team in the country.

Michael watched them.

The prologue was over. The Championship was conquered.

Now the real game began.

Michael Sterling drank his champagne. It tasted like victory.

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