Manchester United Revival

The Manchester United squad returned to England after securing the UEFA Super Cup in Helsinki. They did not have time to celebrate the continental trophy. The Premier League schedule demanded their immediate attention.

Two days after the final in Finland, the squad traveled south to London. They faced Brentford at the Gtech Community Stadium for the second matchday of the league season.

Thomas Frank managed Brentford. He built a team known for physical power, relentless running, and deep defensive organization. Brentford deployed a three-five-two shape. They wanted to bully Manchester United. They planned to use long throw-ins, aggressive set-pieces, and heavy tackles in the midfield to disrupt the rhythm of the game.

Marcus Vale knew the Brentford strategy. He did not change his attacking philosophy, but he adjusted the physical profile of his starting eleven. He started Scott McTominay alongside Denis Zakaria in the midfield. He needed height and aggression to counter the Brentford midfield block. Jadon Sancho started on the left wing. Khvicha Kvaratskhelia started on the right. Paulo Dybala played as the central striker.

Up in the broadcasting box, Peter Drury set the stage for the viewers at home. "A warm welcome to West London," Drury announced. "The challenge of Brentford awaits. But beyond the three points today, Manchester United stand on the brink of history. If Marcus Vale's men avoid defeat this afternoon, they will break their tie with Juventus. They will reach forty-four matches unbeaten, claiming the outright record for the longest unbeaten run in top-five European league history."

The match began under the hot August sun. The Brentford supporters created a hostile atmosphere in the tight, compact stadium.

Brentford executed their game plan immediately. Ivan Toney and Bryan Mbeumo pressed the United center-backs. Christian Nørgaard smashed into a tackle on Bruno Fernandes within the first two minutes. The referee blew his whistle for a foul, setting the physical tone for the afternoon.

United did not back down. Maguire met Ivan Toney in the air. The two players collided heavily while challenging for a long ball. Maguire won the header. He cleared the ball into the midfield. Toney fell to the grass, realizing the United defender possessed equal physical strength.

The first thirty minutes devolved into a brutal midfield battle. Brentford launched long throw-ins directly into the United penalty area. Raphael Varane and Maguire headed every single ball away. David De Gea punched the crosses clear. Zakaria and McTominay won the second balls on the edge of the box.

United absorbed the physical pressure and waited for the transitions.

In the thirty-fourth minute, the Brentford midfield pushed too high up the pitch. Nørgaard attempted a forward pass toward Mbeumo. McTominay intercepted the ball. He immediately passed it to Bruno Fernandes.

Fernandes turned. He saw the Brentford wing-backs caught out of position. He hit a long, sweeping pass out to the left flank.

Jadon Sancho controlled the ball on his chest. He faced the Brentford center-back, Ben Mee. Sancho did not try to cross the ball early. He drove directly at the defender. He entered the penalty area. He dropped his shoulder, feinted toward the touchline, and cut sharply inside onto his left foot. Mee lost his balance and slipped on the grass.

Sancho had a clear sight of the goal. He fired a low, hard shot. The ball beat the diving Brentford goalkeeper, David Raya, and hit the bottom left corner of the net.

Goal. One-nil to Manchester United.

Sancho ran toward the corner flag to celebrate with the traveling United supporters. Marcus stood on the touchline and nodded.

The halftime whistle blew. Marcus made no substitutions. He told the players to maintain their discipline.

The second half mirrored the first. Brentford threw men forward. They won corner kicks and free-kicks near the United penalty area. The United defense held firm. Luke Shaw and Kieran Trippier stopped the crosses from the wide areas.

As the clock reached the seventieth minute, Brentford looked exhausted. They chased the game in the heat, leaving massive spaces behind their defensive line.

In the seventy-first minute, United secured the victory.

Khvicha received the ball near his own penalty area after a failed Brentford corner. He turned and sprinted down the right wing. He carried the ball past two retreating Brentford midfielders. He crossed the halfway line.

Sancho matched his sprint on the opposite side of the pitch.

Khvicha reached the final third. He cut inside and hit a perfect, weighted pass across the edge of the penalty area.

Sancho arrived at exactly the right moment. He did not take a touch to control the ball. He struck it first-time with his right foot. The shot flew across the goal and hit the top right corner.

Goal. Two-nil to Manchester United.

Sancho secured his second goal of the match. He sealed the three points. The Brentford supporters fell completely silent. The United away end sang loudly.

Marcus made his substitutions to run down the clock. He brought on Cristiano Ronaldo for Dybala and Donny van de Beek for Fernandes. The final twenty minutes passed without incident.

The referee blew the full-time whistle. United won two-nil. Jadon Sancho received the Man of the Match award for his clinical finishing. United started the Premier League season with two consecutive victories and two clean sheets.

---

Premier League Standings

Manchester City

Arsenal

Manchester United

Liverpool

Tottenham

Premier League Golden Boot Race

Rodrigo Monero - 3

Erling Haaland - 2

Mitrovic - 2

Premier League Assist Leaders

Kevin De Bruyne - 2

Gabriel Jesus - 2

Jack Harrison - 2

@UtdReport: Full-time: Brentford 0-2 Manchester United. Jadon Sancho scores twice! The perfect start continues, and IT IS OFFICIAL: Manchester United break the record with 44 GAMES UNBEATEN! The longest streak in top-5 European league history! 🔴🔥

@SimonStoneBBC: Marcus Vale adjusted his midfield to match Brentford's physical style today. Starting McTominay alongside Zakaria completely neutralized the threat of long balls. A smart tactical victory.

@ScouseTears: Barely beating Brentford two-nil and United fans are acting like they won the league. You got lucky that Toney didn't score early. That 44-game record is a fluke built on counter-attacks.

@StretfordEnd: Anyone calling that lucky did not watch the game. We absorbed their pressure and killed them on the counter. Sancho is flying right now.

@CR7_Goat: Good to see Ronaldo getting more minutes off the bench. He is looking sharper every single game. The goals will come soon.

Meme: A picture of a giant brick wall wearing a Manchester United shirt. Text reads: Maguire and Varane dealing with Brentford throw-ins today.

@BrentfordFanTV: Tough game today. The boys worked hard and made it physical, but you cannot give Sancho an inch of space. He punished us twice.

@TacticsNerd: The first goal was beautiful. McTominay intercepts, passes to Bruno, and one long pass finds Sancho in space. That is vertical transition football at its finest.

Meme: A photo of Homer Simpson backing slowly into the bushes. Text reads: Ben Mee when Jadon Sancho starts dribbling at him.

@BrunoMagnifico: Bruno Fernandes dictating the play again. His vision to find Sancho for the first goal was elite.

@CityFan_01: You sit deep and play counter-attack football against Brentford. Small club mentality. City would have dominated possession and won five-nil.

@UtdResponse: We literally beat you to win the Community Shield playing this exact same way. Possession means nothing if you don't score.

Meme: A generic picture of a brick wall covering a football goal. Text reads: David De Gea for the first two games of the season.

@FootballHeritage: I love that Vale doesn't care about looking pretty. He saw it was a physical game, put McTominay in, and fought fire with fire. That is proper management.

Meme: The "I am inevitable" Thanos meme. Text reads: Jadon Sancho cutting inside onto his right foot.

@RoyKeanesDog: Good win. Hard work. Brentford are a tough team to play away from home. Take the three points and move on to the next one.

Meme: A guy sweating nervously while looking at two red buttons. Text reads: Premier League defenders trying to decide whether to mark Khvicha or Sancho.

@JamesDucker: The physical conditioning of this United team is incredible. They matched Brentford tackle for tackle in the August heat and still had the energy to sprint for the second goal.

@ChelseaFan: Good luck keeping that intensity up for thirty-eight games. The injuries will start piling up soon.

Meme: The "Am I a joke to you?" guy. Text reads: Thomas Frank watching his physical game plan get ruined by pure transition speed.

@DeGeaSaves: De Gea punching the crosses clear all afternoon was massive. Total command of his penalty area against a very physical team.

Meme: A picture of a turtle sleeping peacefully. Text reads: Marcus Vale while rival fans complain about his tactics on Twitter.

@RedDevilCentral: Two wins out of two, solid at the back, lethal up front. 44 GAMES UNBEATEN. We officially stand alone in football history. The Marcus Vale era is looking very, very bright.

---

Two days later, Marcus Vale was in London.

He attended a high-end charity auction. The event aimed to raise money for children's hospitals across the United Kingdom. The organizers invited elite athletes, actors, musicians, and wealthy business owners to the prestigious hotel ballroom.

Marcus did not care for the social aspects of the event. He attended solely to donate money to a good cause.

He wore a tailored black tuxedo. He did not wear a tie. He unbuttoned the top button of his crisp white shirt. He walked past the paparazzi waiting outside the hotel entrance. The cameras flashed, but he ignored them completely. He handed his invitation to the security guard and walked into the grand ballroom.

The room looked expensive. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling. Round tables filled the floor, covered in white silk tablecloths. Waiters carried silver trays holding champagne flutes. A string quartet played soft classical music in the corner.

Marcus found his assigned table near the back of the room. He sat down. He picked up his bidding paddle. It displayed the number seventy-seven in bold black ink.

The host walked onto the stage and began the auction. The first half of the evening featured physical items. Signed sports memorabilia, vintage wine collections, and rare artwork went up for sale.

Marcus looked at the auction booklet. He spotted two specific items.

The auctioneer introduced an antique, nineteenth-century map of Manchester. The bidding started at two thousand pounds. Marcus raised his paddle. A few other guests bid against him. The price reached ten thousand pounds. The other bidders dropped out. Marcus raised his paddle one last time. He won the map for twelve thousand pounds.

Ten minutes later, the auctioneer introduced a signed, first-edition copy of a classic British novel. Marcus raised his paddle immediately. He kept it raised until the rest of the room gave up. He won the book for eight thousand pounds.

He bought the items for his mother, Maria Sterling. She loved historical artifacts and rare books.

The auctioneer struck his wooden hammer against the podium. "We will now take a thirty-minute interval," he announced. "Please enjoy the refreshments. The bidding will resume shortly with our exclusive experience packages."

The guests stood up. They began to mingle, talk, and drink. The noise level in the ballroom rose sharply.

Marcus did not want to talk to anyone. He stood up, took a glass of red wine from a passing waiter, and walked toward the back of the ballroom. He opened a heavy glass door and stepped out onto the large balcony.

The balcony offered a sweeping view of the London skyline. The city lights glowed brightly against the dark night sky. The air felt cool and quiet, a sharp contrast to the crowded ballroom inside.

Marcus walked to the metal railing. He leaned against it, took a sip of his wine, and looked out at the city. He enjoyed the silence.

Five minutes later, the glass door behind him slid open.

Marcus heard the click of heels against the stone floor of the balcony. He glanced over his shoulder.

A young woman stepped outside. She stood roughly five feet and five inches tall. She had blonde hair falling past her shoulders. She wore an elegant, dark evening dress. She held a cocktail glass in her left hand.

Marcus saw her, but he did not care much. He turned his head back toward the city lights and took another sip of his wine.

The woman walked across the balcony. She did not stand at the railing. She took a seat on a padded lounge chair positioned a few feet away from Marcus. She rested her cocktail glass on a small table.

She reached into her small purse. She took out a silver cigarette case and a lighter. She opened the case and pulled out a cigarette.

She looked over at Marcus. She held the silver case out toward him.

"Do you want one?" she asked. Her voice carried a distinct Australian accent.

Marcus looked at the cigarette case. He shook his head slowly. "No. I do not do it."

She pulled her hand back. She placed the cigarette between her lips. "Do you mind if I do?" she asked.

"I do not mind," Marcus replied flatly. He turned his attention back to the skyline.

She sparked the lighter. The small flame illuminated her face for a second. She lit the cigarette, took a drag, and exhaled the smoke into the cool night air.

"I am Milly," she said. "Milly Alcock."

Marcus turned his head slightly. He gave her a smile. "Marcus."

He looked at her face. He recognized her from the billboards scattered across London.

"So, you are the new star of House of the Dragon," Marcus stated. It was not a question.

Milly nodded. She took another drag of her cigarette. "Yeah. I am currently doing promotions for season one. It premieres soon. Did you read those books?"

"Yes," Marcus said. "They are great. I am waiting for The Winds of Winter." He paused and took a sip of his wine. "Which I think will be coming out never."

Milly laughed out loud. The sound broke the quiet atmosphere of the balcony. "I know, right? After the horrible climax of the last season of Game of Thrones, I really want to read what the actual ending is. But it looks like we will never know. Even during the massive COVID lockdown, he could not finish it."

[A/N: I know she didn't read it]

Marcus chuckled softly. He agreed completely. The author had a year of isolation and still produced nothing.

Milly leaned back in her chair. She looked at Marcus. She noticed his tailored suit and his calm, completely unbothered demeanor.

"What do you do, Marcus?" she asked.

"I manage a football club," Marcus answered plainly.

"Which league?" she asked, taking another sip of her cocktail.

"The Premier League."

Milly stopped with her glass halfway to her mouth. She looked at his face closely. She noted his youthful appearance. He looked like he was in his late twenties.

"Aren't you a bit young to manage a Premier League team?" Milly asked.

Marcus tilted his head. He looked at her through half-closed eyes. He noticed her youthful features.

"Aren't you a bit old to play a fourteen-year-old?" Marcus replied instantly.

Milly gasped slightly. Her eyes widened. "Hey. That was rude."

Marcus smiled lazily. "You started it."

Milly stared at him for a second, then burst into laughter again. She appreciated the quick banter. The people inside the ballroom constantly offered her fake compliments. The blunt honesty felt refreshing.

"Okay, fair play," Milly conceded. She took another drag of her cigarette. "Which club do you manage?"

"Manchester United," Marcus said.

Milly stopped completely. She stared at him. She lowered her cigarette.

"You are Marcus Vale," she said, her tone shifting to surprise. "You are the Marcus Vale."

"That is me," Marcus said. He took another sip of his wine. "It looks like I am popular in Hollywood as well."

"All my co-stars are massive football fans," Milly explained. "Matt Smith talks about football all day on set. They always talk about how Manchester United seem completely unbeatable under their new manager. They talk about your tactics constantly."

Marcus gave a dry, witty reply. "I just tell the players to run very fast and kick the ball into the net. They do all the hard work. The pundits just like to pretend it is complicated."

Milly smiled at his self-deprecation. "Right. I am sure that is exactly how you won the Champions League."

Marcus shrugged his shoulders lazily.

He changed the subject. "What are you here for?"

"For charity, of course," Milly answered quickly, gesturing to the ballroom behind them.

Marcus gave another witty reply. "Or you came for the free champagne. The champagne is very good tonight. They did not buy the cheap bottles."

Milly grinned. "Maybe a little bit of both."

Marcus leaned his back against the railing. He faced her. "What are you looking forward to bidding on?"

"I don't know yet," Milly said. She tapped the ash from her cigarette into a small glass ashtray on the table. "I am waiting to see if something catches my eye. What did you buy?"

"An antique map of Manchester from the nineteenth century," Marcus said. "And a signed first-edition classic book."

"That sounds expensive," Milly noted. "Are you a history nerd?"

"They are for my mother," Marcus corrected her. "She is a collector. She likes old things."

"That is sweet," Milly said.

They talked for a while watching the city lights.

Suddenly, Milly's phone vibrated loudly against the metal table. She picked it up and checked the bright screen. She sighed.

"My publicist," Milly said, rolling her eyes slightly. "Well, I have to go back inside. The auction is restarting soon. It was really nice meeting you, Marcus."

"Likewise," Marcus said.

Milly stood up, smoothed her dark dress, and walked back to the glass door. She pulled it open and disappeared into the crowded, noisy ballroom.

Marcus stayed on the balcony for another five minutes. He finished his glass of red wine. He placed the empty glass on the small table next to the ashtray. He adjusted his suit jacket and walked back inside.

The guests had returned to their tables. The string quartet stopped playing. The auctioneer stood at the podium, tapping the microphone to get the room's attention.

Marcus walked to the back of the room and sat down at his table.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back," the auctioneer announced. His voice boomed through the speakers. "We will now begin the second half of our auction. This section features exclusive experiences."

A few items went up for sale. A weekend trip to a private island in Greece sold for thirty thousand pounds. A private dinner cooked by a famous celebrity chef sold for twenty thousand pounds.

Marcus did not raise his paddle. He already bought the gifts for his mother. He just sat in his chair, watching the crowd.

Then, the auctioneer cleared his throat.

"Our next lot is ...," the auctioneer said. He gestured toward the front of the room. "An exclusive dinner date at a Michelin-star restaurant in London with the star of the highly anticipated series, House of the Dragon, Miss Milly Alcock."

Hearing that, Marcus raised an eyebrow.

He looked around the large ballroom to see where she sat. He spotted her at a large, round table near the front of the stage.

Milly sat with her fellow cast members. She had both of her hands covering her face, trying to hide her deep embarrassment. Her co-stars, including Matt Smith and Olivia Cooke, pointed at her and laughed loudly, enjoying her discomfort.

Marcus watched her for a second.

"We will start the bidding at two thousand pounds," the auctioneer announced.

A man near the front raised his paddle instantly.

"Two thousand pounds from the gentleman in the front," the auctioneer said.

Another paddle went up on the left side of the room. "Three thousand pounds."

Marcus sat in his chair. He looked at Milly hiding her face. He picked up paddle number seventy-seven. He raised it into the air.

"Five thousand pounds from paddle seventy-seven at the back of the room," the auctioneer called out.

The man in the front raised his paddle again. "Seven thousand."

Marcus kept his paddle raised.

"Ten thousand pounds from paddle seventy-seven," the auctioneer corrected himself.

The room grew slightly quieter. The bidding war escalated quickly. A new bidder, a wealthy businessman sitting near the center aisle, raised his hand.

"Fifteen thousand pounds!" the auctioneer shouted.

Marcus did not lower his arm. He kept paddle seventy-seven held high. He leaned back in his chair, resting his chin on his other hand, looking completely bored.

"Twenty thousand pounds from seventy-seven!"

The businessman in the center aisle turned around. He looked at Marcus. He frowned. He raised his paddle again.

"Twenty-five thousand pounds!"

The crowd gasped slightly. Twenty-five thousand pounds for a dinner date was a massive sum, even for a charity gala. The cast members at Milly's table stopped laughing. They looked around the room in shock.

Marcus did not flinch. He did not wait for the auctioneer to ask for another bid.

Marcus raised his hand and spoke clearly, his voice carrying over the silent ballroom.

"Fifty thousand."

The entire ballroom went completely dead silent. Nobody moved. Nobody raised a paddle. The businessman in the center aisle immediately lowered his hand and turned back to his table in defeat.

Fifty thousand pounds.

The auctioneer looked stunned for a second. He recovered quickly.

"Fifty thousand pounds," the auctioneer repeated, his voice full of excitement. "I have fifty thousand pounds from paddle seventy-seven. Do I hear fifty-five? Anyone for fifty-five?"

Silence filled the room.

"Going once," the auctioneer said. He raised his wooden hammer. "Going twice."

He slammed the hammer down onto the podium.

"Sold! For fifty thousand pounds to paddle number seventy-seven!"

The ballroom erupted in loud applause. The crowd clapped for the massive charitable donation.

At the front table, Milly lowered her hands from her face. She looked completely shocked. She turned around in her chair. She looked across the long ballroom to see exactly who just spent fifty thousand pounds on a dinner date with her.

Her eyes scanned the crowd. She found the man holding paddle seventy-seven near the back wall.

She saw Marcus.

Marcus sat in his chair. He held the paddle in his hand. He looked directly at her across the distance of the crowded room.

When they made eye contact, Marcus gave a mischievous smile.

Milly stared at him. She realized he just dropped fifty thousand pounds simply to tease her. She shook her head in disbelief. She reached out, picked up her full cocktail glass from the table, and drank the entire thing in one full gulp.