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[Date: 12/03/2020 | Ti: 09:30 AM | Location: Holiday Inn – Liverpool South, Hotel Buffet]
The restaurant buzzed with the quiet hum of clinking cutlery and low conversation. The scent of brewed coffee mingled with toasted bread and that curious, smoky tinge only the British sausage could possess—sothing between charcoal and mystery at.
Rakim sat by one of the tables by the windows overlooking the hotel's gardens. He wore a grey hoodie and sliders, one leg folded under him, a plate of sliced mangos, toast, and two boiled eggs in front of him. He chewed absently, earbuds in, one brow lifted as he watched a TikTok of a gym skit on his phone. So guy with a noticeable beard could be seen doing press-ups under the title {Male vs Female Motivation at the gym.
"Life as a man is hard, but hard tis create strong n. A man must chase pain in order to achieve greatness." His voiceover sounded as he continued doing military-style press-ups, only to abruptly cut towards a fairly good-looking girl in a two-piece gym outfit, showing off her assets. "I don't chase, I deserve everything."
"I deserve nothing! Nobody is coming to save ... I am loved," He could barely understand why he was watching this guy, but his content had just the right amount of humour and stereotype to get one hooked. After the girl completed 12 reps of "I Don't Need a Man," the cara cut back to the man doing Bicep curls. "2009, 20- w'What am I doing, is that it? Is this the power of my bloodline? My family is counting on ; I must push forward!"
Woman: "Did I even go to the gym if I didn't take another selfie?"
Man: "Every ti I stop, my enemies get one step closer to the throne, SO I CANNOT GIVE UP; I will not accept anything less than Emperor."
Woman: "Huuuh, that was such a good workout."
Man: "What a shit workout, no cheat al this week."
"Is this your pre-match ritual now?" Florian Wirtz asked, setting down a plate piled high with hash browns, sausages, and baked beans with a slap. "Motivational thirst traps?"
Rakim smirked, popping out one earbud. "I'm just trying to find my inner emperor."
"Don't even start; I can barely put up with your ani addiction, let alone another vice," Wirtz comnted as if he was trying to dodge the plague.
Just then, at a nearby table, Malik Tillman plopped into a seat holding a solitary roll of toilet paper like it was a winning lottery ticket.
"What's that, your security deposit?" Jamie Leweling asked, sipping his orange juice.
Malik grinned. "Nah, I just figured if this gets any worse, I can trade it for steak."
Jamie chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't get why or how this toilet paper craze started. Is there like a great diarrhoea storm that soone forgot to tell us about?"
"Not us, just you guys; my house is stocked with all the essentials. Sophia runs a tight ship." Kai off handedly comnted from another table before proceeding to sip his cup of tea.
"Never mind whatever that was, this place is scary. Yesterday, I saw a video of a man buying twelve frozen chickens and smiling like a villain." Jaimie comnted after the montary silence that Havertzs comnt had created.
Soone from across the buffet line chid in dryly, "Man, folks here are acting like so main characters in an apocalypse show."
There were laughs all around as the players and staff blew off steam from yesterday's complications. Most of their worries had subsided after a night's sleep, and the warm camaraderie helped ease the last of the nerves. Just as Florian stabbed into a hash brown with suspicious focus, Peter Bosz strolled in, dressed casually in a cream linen shirt tucked into tailored navy slacks, sleeves rolled to his forearms.
He looked far more casual than the players had ever seen him, and his assistant, Fredrick Bauer, followed him, dressed more smartly in what could only be called office attire. He wore a navy polo, a pair of very chino pants and a silver Rolex watch to match. The man was low-key, with only his watches giving one an indication of his wealth.
Peter cleared his throat gently, the subtle sound enough to draw most of the heads in the restaurant toward him. He waited a beat, allowing the room to settle before speaking. "Alright, boys—good news for once." His voice cut through the light buzz. "Simon and the folks at the office pulled so serious strings. We've got a private flight back to Cologne. Scheduled departure: 12:00 sharp."
The mont the words landed, the restaurant erupted in relieved, grateful cheer. A round of claps was set off with quite a few folks whistling and forks clanging dramatically against a plate in celebration. Florian slapped the table once, mouth full, and managed a muffled, "Let's go!"
Peter lifted his hand to quiet them with a slight grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Let finish before you all go ordering champagne, which better be orange juice. "You've got just over two hours. Pack, check out, and be on the coach by 10:45."
He glanced around, making sure everyone was listening. "From Cologne-Bonn, you'll be allowed to leave directly if you've got soone picking you up. Otherwise, we've arranged for a return coach to the KP Centre. Just let us know before takeoff."
Fredrick Bauer stepped in smoothly. "Text your final destination and pick-up info to the team group chat. No exceptions. No 'my phone died' excuses. No ssage ans you're going to KP with us even if soone shows up."
Peter gave a final nod, then motioned toward the buffet. "Eat up, pack up, and don't make chase anyone down the hallway. You've all earned a proper trip ho."
The crowd broke again into relieved chatter. Chairs scraped. Cutlery clinked. Florian raised a sausage like a champagne flute. "To bureaucracy!"
"May it always be in our favour," Rakim muttered, grabbing his now lukewarm toast as he rose from his chair.
Jamie Leweling was already pulling out his phone. "Alright, who's trying to speedrun checkout so we can hit the vending machine one last ti?"
Malik tapped the roll of toilet paper. "My gift to the front desk."
"Aren't you guys like millionaires? Surely you can afford duty-free snacks?" Soone asked, instantly silencing the rowdy group. "Oh, I forgot Jamie is one of those morning people who act like they are on a sugar high. I pity the fool who is his roommate."
"Hey, that's ," Diaby chid in, sounding more listless than he usually did.
"Danm, I didn't even realise you were here; ufft, no wonder you've been quiet; Jamie must have talked your ear off all night," Sven said with a schadenfreude grin. "He tells you about his bee colony and how big his hogrown tomatoes are?
"URGH!" was the only response the Frenchman gave.
~~~
[Date: 12/03/2020 | Ti: 15:30 | Location: Cologne Bonn Airport – Arrivals]
The wheels of the matte black coach hissed to a stop on the airport tarmac, where a modest Gulfstream sat gleaming under the midmorning sun. As players filed off, staff gave each one a pat on the back, ticking nas off a manifest. Rakim adjusted his carry-on bags as he descended the stairs, deftly picking up his duffel bag trolley before joining the rest of the squad on the coach. This version was sourced from M|V|L^EMPYR.
The mood was relatively quiet, with no one bothering to have actual conversations as they started feeling ntal fatigue. To most footballers, they were work friends who were willing to brawl for each other on the field. They cared for one another, but their real lives were when they went ho to their families and friends they grew up with.
So, seeing the sa faces more than necessary started to irritate them as their real personalities began to slip through. One example is Jamie's talkative side, which had been tempered during training and gas. This led to a situation where they had all tacitly agreed to remain silent and temper their intrusive thoughts.
Monts later, the final passenger boarded the couch, and they were whisked away towards the private terminal. Monts later, phones began to buzz with notifications as they finished looking at the nearest relay station beaming up their location. Things at the border control went relatively smoothly as the staff handled sending our bags through the scanners.
Travelling on an official team like this made things easier as the likelihood of soone using a fake passport was zero. The officers were noticeably wearing masks and gloves, a practice that had beco more common among them. A couple of photos here and there, and we were ushered to a parking lot that had been reserved for us.
Rakim imdiately spotted the mint green beauty resting a few paces from the team bus. He resisted the urge to run over and embrace her, checking for any bumps and bruises. "Alright, lads, that's . It was fun being stuck with you, but one more second with your ugly mugs, and I might catch sothing."
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To Be Continued...
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