CHAPTER 131: GOLDEN HANDCUFFS

Isaiah King had taken control of the music system.

Shaun Higgins was singing along.

They had beaten Arsenal. They were fourth in the Premier League.

Michael Sterling sat at the front of the bus. He tried to sleep but it was impossible.

Arthur Milton was sitting next to him holding a calculator.

"Boss," Arthur shouted over the music. "I am doing the math."

"What math Arthur?" Michael asked rubbing his eyes. "We won. That is the only math that matters."

"The money math," Arthur said seriously. "We just beat a team where the average player earns two hundred thousand pounds a week. Kai Sora earns five thousand pounds a week. Isaiah earns three thousand."

Michael froze. He looked back at his squad.

Isaiah King was dancing in the aisle wearing his pink suit jacket over his training kit. He was the King of London. He was one of the hottest prospects in Europe. And he was earning less than the Barnsley mascot.

"You are right," Michael said. "Manchester City offered eighty million for Kai. If we do not pay them what they are worth the sharks will come back."

"They will come back with bigger boats," Arthur warned. "We need to lock the door. We need new contracts."

Monday morning at the Sterling Era Training Complex.

The adrenaline of the win had faded into a warm fuzzy glow. But for Michael it was time for business.

He sat in his office with the billionaire Julian Thorne on a video call.

"Michael!" Julian boomed from a yacht in the Mediterranean. "I saw the game! Isaiah King! What a player! Did you see his celebration? It is trending worldwide! My daughter wants to buy a pink suit now!"

"He is special Julian," Michael smiled. "But special costs money."

"I know where this is going," Julian laughed lighting a cigar. "You want to open the war chest."

"I need to give them new contracts," Michael said. "They are Premier League stars on Championship wages. It is dangerous."

"Do it," Julian said waving his hand. "Pay them. Give them the moon. I want this Dynasty to last forever. How much do you need?"

"A lot," Michael admitted.

"The money is in the account," Julian said. "Make them happy. Make them rich. I want them to stay in Barnsley until they are old men with grey hair."

The call ended.

Michael looked at Arthur.

"We have the green light," Michael said. "Call them in. One by one."

The first knock on the door was hesitant.

It was Kenji Sato.

The Japanese midfielder walked in and bowed three times. He was wearing his club tracksuit. He looked nervous.

"Sit down Kenji," Michael said pointing to the leather chair.

Kenji sat on the edge of the seat. "Am I in trouble Sterling san? Did I run too much? I can run less if you want."

"No Kenji," Michael laughed. "You are not in trouble. You are perfect."

Michael slid a piece of paper across the desk.

"This is a new contract," Michael explained. "You are currently earning four thousand pounds a week. This new deal is for fifty thousand pounds a week. For five years."

Kenji stared at the paper. His eyes went wide. He took out a calculator from his pocket. He typed in the numbers.

He looked up. He looked pale.

"Sterling san," Kenji whispered. "This is... too much. I can buy many bicycles. I can buy a bicycle factory."

"You deserve it," Michael said. "You run for two men. You should be paid for two men."

Kenji stood up. He bowed so low his head almost touched the desk.

"I accept," Kenji said. "I will run until my legs fall off. I will buy my mother a house with a heated floor."

"Good," Michael smiled. "Sign here."

Next was Diego Nunez.

The Uruguayan giant walked in. He did not knock. He filled the room. He was eating an apple. It looked like a grape in his massive hand.

"Boss," Diego grunted sitting down. The chair creaked in protest. "Higgins said we are getting a pay rise. Is it true? Can I buy a farm?"

"You can buy a big farm Diego," Michael said sliding the contract over. "Seventy five thousand pounds a week."

Diego looked at the number. He stopped chewing.

A slow smile spread across his face. It was a scary smile.

"This is good," Diego said. "In Uruguay I played for free sometimes. I played for a sandwich. Now I can buy a steakhouse."

"Just promise me one thing," Michael said. "No motorcycles. I do not want you falling off."

"I will buy a tractor," Diego promised. "Tractors are safe. And I can drive over cars that annoy me."

Michael sighed. "Please do not drive over cars Diego."

"I will try," Diego shrugged signing the paper with a pen that looked tiny in his hand.

Then came Isaiah King.

Isaiah moonwalked into the office. He was wearing sunglasses and a gold chain.

"Talk to me Boss," Isaiah said spinning into the chair. "Show me the numbers. My agent is calling me every five minutes telling me about interest from Italy. From Spain."

"Tell your agent to be quiet," Michael said. "You are a Barnsley boy now."

He showed Isaiah the contract.

Eighty thousand pounds a week. Plus a goal bonus. Plus an assist bonus.

Isaiah looked at the paper. He took off his sunglasses. The arrogance vanished. He looked like a seventeen year old boy again.

"Eighty bags?" Isaiah whispered. "A week?"

"Yes."

"Boss," Isaiah said his voice cracking. "My mom... she works two jobs. She cleans offices."

"Not anymore," Michael said softly. "Call her. Tell her she can retire."

Isaiah wiped his eyes. He tried to look tough but he failed.

"You really believe in me huh?" Isaiah asked.

"I told you," Michael said. "You are the King. Kings need a castle."

Isaiah signed the paper. He looked up.

"I am going to buy a gold car," Isaiah announced. "A gold Range Rover. Is that too much?"

"It is terrible," Michael laughed. "But it is you. Do it."

Finally it was Kai Sora.

The Architect.

Kai walked in. He was wearing his silk pajamas again. He looked sleepy.

"Hello Boss," Kai yawned sitting down. "Arthur said it was urgent. I was in the middle of a nap."

"It is urgent," Michael said. "Manchester City offered eighty million pounds for you Kai."

Kai blinked. "That is nice. Did you sell me?"

"No."

"Good. I do not like blue."

Michael pushed the contract forward.

"One hundred thousand pounds a week," Michael said. "The highest paid player in the history of the club. Five years."

Kai looked at the paper. He did not look excited. He looked thoughtful.

"It is a lot of money," Kai said. "But money is boring Boss. I have simple needs. I like sleep. I like video games. I like passing."

"What do you want Kai?" Michael asked. "Name it."

Kai thought for a long time.

"I want a bed," Kai said.

"A bed?"

"In the locker room," Kai explained. "Sometimes between training sessions I get tired. The bench is hard. I want a proper bed. With a memory foam mattress. In the corner of the locker room."

Michael stared at him. He was offering a teenager millions of pounds and the kid was negotiating for a mattress.

"Okay," Michael laughed. "You get the money. And you get the bed. Arthur will order it today."

Kai smiled. "Perfect. Then I sign."

He signed the paper.

"Now can I go back to sleep?" Kai asked.

"Go," Michael said. "Sleep well my millionaire."

That afternoon Michael stood on the balcony overlooking the training pitch.

The contracts were signed. The core of the team was locked down for five years.

The Misfits were not just passing through. They were here to stay.

He felt a vibration in his pocket.

[SYSTEM ALERT]

[DYNASTY STATUS: SECURED]

[SQUAD VALUE: £300,000,000]

[TEAM MORALE: LEGENDARY]

[NEW OBJECTIVE UNLOCKED: EUROPE]

Europe.

The Champions League.

It seemed impossible. They were Barnsley. But they were fourth in the Premier League. They had just beaten Arsenal. They had money. They had talent.

Arthur walked out onto the balcony. He was holding two glasses of champagne.

"To the rich kids," Arthur said handing a glass to Michael.

"To the rich kids," Michael agreed.

Down below the players were coming out for the afternoon session.

Diego Nunez ran out first. He was screaming.

"I AM RICH!" Diego roared tackling a mannequin. "I AM A RICH BULL!"

Isaiah King ran out next. He was on his phone.

"Mom!" Isaiah was shouting. "Quit the job! Yes! Right now! Throw the mop in the trash!"

Kenji Sato was bowing to the grass thanking it for the opportunity to earn money.

And Kai Sora was walking slowly carrying a pillow.

"Arthur," Michael said taking a sip of champagne. "Did you order the bed?"

"I ordered a king size bed," Arthur sighed. "It arrives tomorrow. We are going to be the laughing stock of the league. A bed in the locker room."

"Let them laugh," Michael smiled. "If Kai gets his sleep he might assist thirty goals this season."

"True," Arthur said.

Michael looked at the sky. It was grey and cloudy. But it looked beautiful.

The foundation was set. The walls were strong.

Now they just had to keep building.

"Next game," Michael asked.

"Chelsea," Arthur said. "At the Fortress."

"Chelsea spent a billion pounds," Michael said.

"And we spent zero on transfers," Arthur reminded him. "But we spent a lot on wages today."

"It was worth every penny," Michael said.

He watched Isaiah King trying to do a backflip and failing. He watched Diego Nunez trying to catch a pigeon.

They were idiots. But they were his idiots.

And now they were here forever.

The Dynasty was not just a dream anymore. It was a contract. signed sealed and delivered.

Michael finished his drink.

"Let’s go watch them train Arthur. I want to see what a hundred thousand pound a week pass looks like."