Manchester United Revival

A day after the charity auction, Marcus Vale prepared for the evening ahead. Standing inside his Hale Barns bedroom in Manchester, he opened the wardrobe to pull out a pair of dark cargo pants. After fastening the belt, the manager slipped a white T-shirt over his head. Its front featured an anime print of Kisuke Urahara sporting a feline companion on top of his hat. Finally, slipping into a pair of comfortable sneakers completed the outfit.

Checking his phone, he opened the messaging app and typed a quick text to Milly Alcock, letting her know he was leaving Manchester for London. She replied immediately, confirming her exact location at a house in the city center.

Leaving the bedroom, he descended the stairs to enter the expansive garage.

He deliberately bypassed the dark green Volvo parked near the entrance because the vehicle was far too recognizable. Local paparazzi knew the license plate by heart, while avid fans easily identified its make and model. Instead, his footsteps echoed as he headed toward the far corner.

Pausing in the shadows, he stopped before a 1991 Mercedes-Benz TE W124.

The estate car boasted a dull, unassuming grey exterior paint job. Retaining its original, boxy shape alongside vintage square headlights, the vehicle appeared entirely ordinary. Passersby on the street would never give the wagon a second glance.

Unlocking the door, Marcus climbed inside to reveal a completely different story. Gone were the factory seats, replaced entirely by high-end, custom-stitched leather, while the vintage dashboard now housed sleek, modern display screens. Pressing a button on the center console, the machine powered on silently without producing a single traditional engine sputter.

Gliding out of the garage, he departed Hale Barns and navigated the winding local roads until seamlessly merging onto the M6 motorway heading south toward London.

Once settled comfortably into the middle lane, Marcus engaged a secondary button located directly on the steering wheel. Relinquishing his grip, he then moved both feet away from the pedals.

An advanced automatic driving system—software he had designed himself—instantly took over. Maintaining a steady speed, the car tracked lane markers flawlessly and automatically adjusted its distance from any vehicles ahead.

Resting an open laptop on his knees, he spent the ensuing three hours diligently working. The manager reviewed Axiom Group emails, checked progress reports for the new stadium's construction, and analyzed fitness data for the Manchester United squad ahead of their upcoming weekend fixture. Trusting the AI completely to handle the journey, his eyes never once drifted toward the road.

As the smooth journey concluded, the Mercedes exited the motorway and entered London's bustling streets. Shutting the computer, Marcus finally reclaimed manual control to expertly navigate through the tight city traffic.

Approaching Milly's house, he purposefully avoided parking directly in front of the main entrance, knowing the bright lighting would inevitably attract unwanted attention. Cruising just past the property, he instead parked the wagon on a quiet side street situated roughly fifty yards away from her front doors.

Snatching up his phone, he sent a brief ping: I am here. Come down.

Waiting patiently in the driver's seat, he watched the glass doors slide open two minutes later. Milly stepped out onto the pavement dressed in casual attire, her gaze immediately scanning the main driveway.

Tapping the screen again, he dispatched another instruction: Walk toward the corner on your left. Stand by the brick wall.

Glancing at the glowing screen, she read the text with evident confusion. A slight frown formed on the actress's face as she pocketed the device and strolled down the pavement toward the designated location.

Upon reaching the corner, she leaned against the brick masonry while peering up and down the dimly lit street. Having searched Google earlier that day for details about Marcus Vale, she knew every article mentioned a dark green Volvo. Consequently, her eyes scoured the parked vehicles specifically for that familiar SUV.

However, the famous vehicle was nowhere to be found among the random assortment of delivery vans and older sedans.

Observing her fruitless search from afar, Marcus reached forward to press the center of the steering wheel, honking the horn twice.

The sharp double-blare echoed down the quiet thoroughfare, prompting her to snap her head toward the noise. There, idling near the curb, sat an old, grey Mercedes estate.

Rolling down the passenger window, he leaned his head out to catch her attention.

Recognizing his face instantly, Milly pushed off the brick wall and cautiously approached the vehicle's passenger side. She eyed the boxy exterior with skepticism before her gaze shifted to his quirky white anime tee.

"What happened to the Volvo?" she asked.

"Well," the manager replied calmly, "everyone knows about the Volvo. The press knows it, and the fans know it. So, I had built this one specifically for those times when I want anonymity."

Understanding the logic perfectly, she reached for the heavy metal handle, pulled the door open, and climbed inside before shutting it firmly behind her.

Settling into the passenger seat, she found herself completely mesmerized by the cabin. The jarring contrast between the boring exterior and this high-tech interior was massive; digital displays glowed across the dashboard, the leather felt incredibly soft to the touch, and the sleek center console lacked any traditional buttons.

"Does this thing just look good, or does it function just as well?" she inquired, trailing a hand over the plush door panel.

A sly grin crossed his face. "Why don't we find out?"

Shifting the gear selector, he firmly planted his foot down on the accelerator.

The wagon launched forward with instant pickup, exhibiting zero engine lag or clunky gear shifting. Acceleration felt entirely smooth, reminiscent of a modern racecar rocketing away from the starting grid.

Caught entirely off guard by the sudden surge of power, Milly—who hadn't buckled up yet—was thrown firmly back into the plush leather. Her eyes went wide as her fingers instinctively grabbed the seat's edge for stability.

"Whoa!" she exclaimed loudly.

Reaching hastily over her shoulder, she dragged the seatbelt across her chest and snapped it securely into the buckle before shooting him an incredulous stare.

"Is this thing electric?"

"Modified it myself," he answered, keeping his focus locked on the road ahead.

"Cool," she breathed, finally settling back to enjoy the remarkably quiet yet powerful ride.

Navigating smoothly through a set of traffic lights, Marcus offered a choice. "Should we head to the venue where the auction organizers booked us a table, or would you prefer somewhere else?"

Gazing out the window, she considered the options. "I'm not much of a fancy girl, so that official spot is probably a bit too stiff. Anything is fine with me, honestly, but a quiet place would be better."

Taking the hint, he changed direction immediately, steering away from the upscale districts toward a much smaller, unassuming neighborhood where he eventually parked near a narrow alleyway.

The destination was a hidden restaurant renowned for serving excellent food despite its completely plain exterior. Most locals didn't even realize the establishment existed.

Exiting the vehicle, the pair strolled down the dark alley and pushed open a heavy wooden door to reveal a warm, quiet interior bathed in low lighting. A handful of patrons sat scattered at various tables, eating their meals in absolute peace without any flashing cameras or aggressively hovering waitstaff.

Claiming a secluded booth near the back wall, they accepted water and menus from a polite waiter, perused the options, and quickly placed their orders.

Once the server collected the leather-bound menus and retreated, they were left alone.

Leaning both arms casually on the table, Milly focused her attention on her date.

"So," she prompted with a curious tilt of her head. "Tell me about yourself."

Sitting back in his chair, he met her gaze with a completely flat, unreadable expression.

"Well," he began in a deadpan tone. "I am a son to a father and a mother. I am an elder brother to a sister. I was born on Earth. I require oxygen to breathe, and I consume food to generate energy."

A heavy eye roll accompanied the long sigh that escaped her lips as she stared across the table.

"Wow, I didn't know that," she shot back sarcastically. "Can't you reply a bit more seriously?"

"Where is the fun in that?" came his immediate counter.

"You are impossible," she muttered, unable to suppress a slight, amused smile.

"Alright, now you tell me about yourself," the United boss challenged, resting his hands flat against the polished wood. "And do not give me a boring one. If I wanted to know standard trivia, I could just search the internet."

Accepting the challenge with a sharp nod, she sat up perfectly straight and cleared her throat dramatically.

"I am a professional liar," the actress declared in a comically serious tone. "People pay me money to stand in front of flashing lights and pretend to be people I am not. Currently, my days are spent pretending to ride giant, imaginary flying lizards constructed entirely of green screens, yelling at costars in a language that doesn't actually exist. My greatest skill is looking incredibly angry while wearing heavy dresses."

Laughter erupted from him, the warm sound filling their quiet corner of the restaurant as she joined in, completely dissolving whatever residual tension remained from the start of the date.

Taking a small sip of water, she placed the glass down and adopted a noticeably more earnest expression.

"Okay, I have to ask," she began. "Why are you always so nonchalant during press conferences? I watched a few YouTube interviews after the charity auction, and you really seem to get on the reporters' nerves just by staring them down."

A soft chuckle preceded his shifting posture in the leather booth.

"You see," he explained patiently, "if I managed an ordinary club, no one would care what I said; I could give a normal answer, and everyone would go home. But I manage Manchester United. Every single syllable gets analyzed by reporters hunting for sensational news to craft bold headlines that sell papers and generate clicks."

Pausing briefly, he allowed the logic to settle between them.

"Even if I provide a sensible statement, the media can twist it," he continued. "They'll cut a quote in half to imply I insulted another manager or criticized my own players. To counter that, I simply reduced their workload by offering dry, ridiculous answers containing nothing to twist. The press might get angry, but they can't weaponize my own words against the squad."

An understanding smile graced her lips, as navigating the fickle media game was something she knew intimately.

"So you're essentially a brick wall that dispenses sarcastic remarks," she summarized wittily.

"Exactly," he agreed.

"But seriously," she pressed, leaning forward once more. "What is it actually like? Carrying the immense pressure of managing Manchester United?"

This time, no sarcastic quip followed. He glanced down at the table for a fleeting second before meeting her eyes again.

"Managing this club was always my ultimate dream," he confessed, his voice quiet and sincere. "I've supported them since I was a little kid—watching every game, studying the tactics relentlessly. Helping the team win the Champions League and the FA Cup in my first season... it feels incredible. The pressure is undeniably heavy, but I am exactly where I want to be."

Raising both eyebrows, her genuine surprise was evident.

"Wow, a genuinely serious answer from Marcus Vale," she teased, tapping a finger rhythmically on the tabletop. "I should probably note the time and date. I might be the only person ever to witness this phenomenon."

"Do not tell a soul," he warned with a smirk. "It will ruin my reputation."

"My lips are sealed," she promised.

"Now, back to you," he prompted, deftly shifting the conversational focus.

The effortless banter continued for quite some time, drifting into the harsh realities of working on massive television sets. She detailed the grueling hours, suffocating costumes, and the terrifying weight of following up a cultural juggernaut like Game of Thrones, while he listened intently, perfectly understanding the crushing burden of astronomical expectations.

Their discussion paused momentarily when the waiter returned to place two steaming plates of food between them.

Digging into the meal, she took her first bite and felt her eyes widen in delight.

"This is incredible," she mumbled while chewing happily.

"I make sure to visit whenever I'm in London," he noted. "It stays quiet, and the kitchen never misses."

The lively conversation flowed easily throughout the meal. When the plates were finally cleared and the bill arrived, Marcus swiftly covered the tab before his date could even reach for her purse.

Stepping back outside into the cooler night air, the couple ambled down the shadowy alleyway toward the parked Mercedes estate.

Upon reaching the vehicle, he dug into his pocket to retrieve the fob.

Halting beside the driver's side door, Milly eyed the handle thoughtfully before turning toward him.

"Can I drive?" she asked.

Without a second of hesitation, he tossed the keys directly over the roof.

Catching them cleanly with a victorious smile, she unlocked the doors, pulled the handle, and slid comfortably into the driver's seat.

Meanwhile, he rounded the front bumper to claim the passenger side, immediately securing his own seatbelt.

After adjusting the rearview mirror and sliding the seat forward to comfortably reach the pedals, she pressed the ignition button. The digital dashboard illuminated instantly as she shifted the wagon into gear.

Pulling smoothly out of the parking spot, she began navigating the labyrinth of London streets.

The light, responsive steering caught her completely by surprise, while the advanced suspension absorbed every minor road bump, allowing the vehicle to glide silently through moderate traffic.

"This is amazing," she praised, keeping her eyes locked on the road ahead. "It drives so smoothly, and it's shockingly comfortable."

"I spent a ridiculous amount of time tuning that suspension," he admitted proudly.

Navigating a few more tricky intersections bolstered her confidence behind the wheel enough to glance over at her passenger.

"Can we hit the highway?" she requested eagerly. "I really want to test its top speed."

Pointing toward the upcoming intersection, he agreed. "Take a left, then use the slip road up ahead."

Following his directions flawlessly, she accelerated up the ramp and merged onto a wide-open highway where traffic remained wonderfully sparse at this late hour.

Seizing the opportunity, she pressed her foot down firmly on the accelerator.

Twin electric motors delivered instant power, surging the chassis forward so rapidly the digital speedometer climbed in mere seconds. Pushing the vehicle to the maximum legal limit, she marveled at how perfectly stable the ride remained; devoid of any violent shaking or deafening engine roars, only the soothing rush of wind whipping past the glass could be heard.

Gripping the leather wheel tightly, a massive grin spread across her face as the thrill of sudden acceleration washed over her.

Beside her, Marcus reached toward the center console to access a custom sound system featuring high-end JBL speakers installed in all four doors. Scrolling through a digital playlist, he selected a heavy, fast-paced track.

Deep bass instantly thumped through the cabin, perfectly matching the exhilarating velocity of their midnight cruise.

Tapping her fingers in time with the driving beat, she cruised down the motorway for twenty blissful minutes, utterly lost in the intoxicating blend of speed and music.

Once her craving for adrenaline was satisfied, the left indicator clicked on, signaling her descent down the exit ramp. Slowing to a reasonable pace, she navigated the local streets by following overhead signs back toward the city center.

The drive concluded upon reaching her house, where she expertly slotted the wagon into the same quiet spot near the side entrance where the date had originated hours prior.

Shifting into park, she pressed the ignition button to power down the elaborate systems.

Unbuckling their seatbelts in unison, both occupants pushed their doors open and stepped out onto the pavement, where flickering streetlights cast long, dramatic shadows across the ground.

"Thanks for the dinner, and the incredible ride," she said softly. "It was really fun."

Standing with his hands resting loosely at his sides, he offered a charming reply. "It is always a pleasure to take a princess on a date."

Smiling at the smooth line, she slowly closed the distance between them, stopping mere inches away before tilting her head upward and leaning in.

Refusing to retreat, he met her halfway.

As their lips met, the kiss started slowly before deepening with intensity. Wrapping his arms securely around her waist, he pulled her flush against his chest, prompting her to snake both arms around the back of his neck to anchor him even closer.

The embrace quickly grew intense and passionate, leaving them standing on the empty pavement, completely oblivious to the house and the surrounding street as they stayed locked together for a long time.

Finally running short on breath, her chest heaving slightly, she gently pulled her face away.

His grip loosened reluctantly, dropping his hands from her waist to leave them standing just inches apart in the cool air.

Staring deeply into her eyes, his baseline expression remained typically calm, though his voice dipped significantly softer than usual.

"There is a massive fixture this week," he murmured. "Liverpool versus Manchester United, playing at home. Why don't you come watch it from the box? It will definitely help with your show's promotional tour once the broadcast cameras find you in the crowd."

Catching her breath, a warm smile illuminated her features. "I would absolutely love to."

Leaning forward once more, they shared a final, lingering kiss, remaining connected until oxygen demanded they separate.

"Good night, Marcus," she whispered into the quiet air.

"Good night," he echoed.

Turning on her heel, the actress glided toward the house entrance, pushing through the glass door into the foyer without casting a single backward glance.

Watching her disappear completely into the building, he eventually pivoted, popped the driver's side door, and slid behind the wheel. Booting up the internal systems, he piloted the estate away from the curb, weaving through the deserted London streets until discovering the northbound highway stretching back toward Manchester.

Upon merging onto the empty motorway, a quick press of the steering wheel button surrendered full control over to the AI software.

Reclining his leather seat backward, he closed his tired eyes, allowed the rhythmic hum of tires against asphalt to soothe his mind, and drifted peacefully to sleep.