38 Showing Who's Boss

(Omega, this game was easy; I really thought that Liverpool could make a better opposition) Julian muttered to Omega as he stared at the wide scoreboard which read out an embarrassing result of 5-1 which was obviously in favor of...


You would have never guessed it...Manchester United!

But how did things end up here? Let's take a closer look...shall we?


As the midget *proclaimed superstar* Michael Owen tried to run past me with his *blistering pace*, I tiredly and lazily laughed to myself while following him like a predator trailing their injured prey. Honestly, it didn't take much to tackle him; yeah, he got past the others but were they the Football King? NOPE. Taking the ball from him was like taking a toy away from a child; easy, funny and leaving the latter extremely annoyed and weeping like a crybaby. But one thing I don't understand is all the fuss and buzz all over the stadium for latching the ball off the midget's sorry size 4 feet; why are they acting like I have done the impossible; anyone can tackle him, even my Grandma.

While dismissing all the cheering and hype and especially all the screaming from the group of girls, I quickly advanced on with the ball, eyeing all the Liverpool players with a sinister look in my eyes, daring them to come challenge me.

And as expected, none of them did; the frightened bunch were all shying away from me, not wanting to look me in the eyes; that's how it should it be.

But wait...what's this? One of these damned fools has come to oppose me, who is it?

Ahhhh, Jamie Carragher, the annoying, patriarchal idiot. I'll give it to him; while I never thought that he was an amazing player, I always commended his tough personality and determination to never give up but unfortunately, there can only be one winner in this race and I'm guessing you already know who it is.

I first calmly started to dribble to the Jamie Carragher, doing a few quick step-overs and la croqueta to fool him but the tough Englishman did not budge, instead eyed me with one can only describe a fearful face. I knew what he was trying to do; he was trying to intimidate me but that wasn't happening, especially with my magical footwork and leader skills coming into play; the winner had already had been decided. I glided past the stunned Carragher, carrying the ball with me past the halfway line and with my hawk's eye skill, I spotted a blonde spot in the distance, sprinting at full force. With perfect precision, I lifted the ball over a stunned Matteo, who could only watch and stare as David Beckham perfectly controlled the ball with his right foot while advancing down the wing.

Knowing my job was done, I slyly and arrogantly walked to United's half, confusing all the players, managers, referees, fans; basically everyone all over the stadium. I'll be honest, it was surprising. I could more or less guess all of their thoughts, they probably went like "What is he doing?" "Has he gone mad?" "The attack hasn't finished" "HE'S SO HANDSOME!!!"

[Seriously, did you have to include the last one?]

"Truthfully, it's a sin to be this good looking"

[Uhhhh, disgusting...] Omega responded to Julian with utter disgust found in his voice.

While the two were bickering and arguing, Julian's plan fruitfully came into action; the reason he started to walk to his own half was because he already knew what the result of the attack was; it was going to be a goal.

You could call him self-centered, narcissistic, arrogant, unsportsmanlike but was he all that when he was right? Was he all that when he was the king? Was he all that when he was clearly the best?


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The sound of the net echoed throughout the stadium, leaving everyone watching the game utterly shocked and startled beyond what words could describe. David Beckham had crossed the ball to an awaiting Andy Cole who calmly headed the ball into the goal, all whilst Julian was walking back to his own half; the quick turn of events of Liverpool attacking with pure force to them then being utterly destroyed at the other side quickly built a picture in every single person's mind who was watching, whether it be United fans, Liverpool fans or neither, this Manchester United team was not playing around; they were the clear favorites to win the Premier League. It didn't matter if this was only the European International cup, a pre-season cup, the team's few games lead by the king, Julian, demonstrated that they were stronger than ever before, and they were thirsty for blood.

Julian POV:

I smugly smiled and laughed as I heard the ball trickle into the net; I knew this was all going to happen; what could I say? I planned it all out.

[Alright, alright, get of your high horse]

"I believe I deserve to be proud and uptight for this one second" Julian proudly commented back to Omega with a head which seemed to be getting bigger than ever before.

[Fine, it was a good play and definitely a quick change of plans, the Liverpool defense were expecting you to dribble at them but instead, you passed the ball to your teammate; probably for the first time this game, you selfish, conceited twat!]

"Yes, I know, I know, praise me more-wait...what was that, you bastard!"

Silence could only be heard throughout the stadium after the goal, not because of the goal, but stupidly because of a teenager standing in the centre circle who seemed to be arguing with the air and calling it a bastard; everyone for once shared the same thought:

"This kid needs mental help!"

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