Mark was already on the pitch. He was not in his new U21 kit. He was in his old U18 tracksuit. He was just... running. Back and forth. Sprints. In the cold morning mist.
He looked like a small, angry, very fast ghost.
Alex watched him for a minute. Mark was not just fast. He was furious. He was running like he was trying to punish the grass.
Alex went to his locker, number 38. He pulled out his new, beautiful, all black boots. They still had that new boot smell.
He sat down. He was next to Bastians empty locker. He felt... good.
The locker room door opened. Ben, the captain, walked in.
He saw Alex. "Morning, Professor. You are early. I am impressed."
"Morning, Ben."
Ben looked out the window. He saw Mark, who was still running sprints.
"Your package," Ben grunted. "He looks... energetic."
"He is just... excited," Alex said.
"He looks angry," Ben corrected. "Good. Let him be angry. Coach Wilkins is going to love him."
Alex was not so sure.
