July 28, 2016 - Liverpool - 11:42 a.m.
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Tristan walked alongside Barbara through Liverpool's city centre, sunglasses resting on both their faces as they wandered through the busy streets. It didn't stop people from recognizing them.
Fortunately for both of them, the streets were relatively quiet. Had they tried this on a busier day, their little outing would have lasted all of five minutes before being swallowed by supporters looking for photos, autographs, or simply a chance to meet them.
Curious glances followed them wherever they went.
A few people offered quick greetings.
"Hi, Tristan."
"Morning, Barbara."
Others nudged their friends and discreetly pointed in their direction, while a handful lifted their phones to snap a photo of the couple walking through the city.
For the most part, people seemed content simply seeing them there.
Tristan and Barbara acknowledged the occasional greeting with a smile before continuing their stroll through the city.
Behind them, John maintained his usual position a few steps back.
Only now he had company.
Following everything that happened from the Euros to joining a new club, the security team had expanded from John to what Tristan was fairly certain qualified as a small tactical unit.
Four bodyguards now accompanied them whenever they went out in public.
Considering the number of people who recognized them, it was probably the only reason their walk through the city hadn't turned into another public event.
Something Tristan was still trying to get used to despite being the one who had pushed for more security in the first place.
"You know," he said, glancing over his shoulder at the four guards following behind them, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'm starting to understand how people end up with giant egos."
Barbara turned her head toward him, one eyebrow arching upward.
"Oh?"
Tristan gestured vaguely behind them.
"Yeah. Give a guy four bodyguards and suddenly he starts feeling important."
Barbara looked over her shoulder at the security detail before looking back at him, amusement creeping onto her face.
"Four?"
Tristan's grin widened.
"Five if you count John."
A laugh escaped Barbara. She shook her head, smiling.
"Trust me, if you were turning into a dictator, we'd have noticed by now."
"Oh, really?"
"Absolutely."
She tightened her hold around his arm, a mischievous smile appearing on her face.
"You would've started demanding everyone address you as 'Your Majesty.'"
Tristan nodded thoughtfully.
"Reasonable."
Barbara rolled her eyes.
"Or maybe 'King Tristan, First of His Name, Ruler of Football and Collector of Trophies.'"
That made Tristan laugh. "You know, King Tristan does have a nice ring to it."
Barbara immediately released his arm and took a dramatic step away from him.
"There it is."
"What?"
"The warning signs."
Tristan looked offended.
"I'm joking."
Barbara pointed at him accusingly, struggling not to laugh herself.
"That's exactly what every future dictator says."
"I am not becoming a dictator."
"That's also exactly what every future dictator says."
Tristan opened his mouth.
Paused.
Then closed it again.
Barbara's smile instantly widened.
"See? You know I have a point. And with the number of transfer targets you've already handed Liverpool, you're basically acting like a dictator already."
A laugh escaped Tristan despite himself as the pair continued down the street.
For a while the group just walked around and explored the city.
Barbara glanced around at the rows of buildings lining the street before looking back at him. "Hey, babe."
"Yeah?"
"What do you think of Liverpool?"
Tristan looked around.
People moved between shops.
Tourists wandered through the city centre.
The distant sound of music drifted from somewhere down the street.
Then he shrugged.
"Honestly?"
Barbara nodded.
"I have no idea."
That earned a laugh.
"Very insightful."
"I'm serious."
Tristan spread his hands.
"I've spent years coming here and somehow never actually seen the city."
Barbara tilted her head.
"How is that possible?"
"Football."
He pointed ahead.
"We'd arrive the day before the match, stay in a hotel, play at Anfield, and leave the next morning."
"Fair."
"Most of my memories of Liverpool are either inside a stadium or inside a team bus."
Barbara smiled.
"That sounds depressing."
"It kind of is."
It was the same for his first life. He'd never really explored Liverpool as he had no reason to until a few weeks back with house shopping and everything else.
Barbara glanced around again.
"Well, for what it's worth, I like it."
"Already?"
"Yeah."
She pointed toward the busy streets around them.
"It feels different from Leicester."
Tristan nodded.
That much was true. Leicester was smaller but he knew the entire city and where everything was.
Liverpool was much bigger.
Neither was better at least for now.
.
A while later, the group found themselves inside a small restaurant tucked away from the busiest parts of the city centre.
The owner had quickly recognized Tristan.
Fortunately, instead of making a scene, he had quietly guided them toward one of the private booths at the back of the restaurant.
It was exactly what they wanted and needed as both were starving.
Tristan slid into the booth beside Barbara while the rest of the security team automatically spread themselves around the restaurant.
John claimed a table with a clear view of both entrances.
The newest members of the team followed suit.
Marcus Reed was the oldest of the four new additions. A six-foot-four Leicester native with dark skin and a powerful build, he had spent years serving in both the military and the police force before moving into private security.
Beside him sat Connor Hayes. A six-foot-two London native with short brown hair and sharp blue eyes, he had spent nearly a decade as a firearms officer before transitioning into private security. Unlike the rest of the team, Connor carried a naturally approachable appearance, often making him the first person fans felt comfortable speaking to despite his background.
Across from him sat Malik Thompson. Standing at six-foot-six with dark skin and a frame that seemed almost unfairly large, the former Royal Marine was easily the biggest member of the group. Years of military service had given him a calm, disciplined demeanor, though his sheer size alone was usually enough to discourage anyone from causing problems.
Last came Ethan Walker. The youngest of the four additions, the six-foot-five Manchester native had spent most of his career working executive protection for wealthy businessmen and public figures. With short blond hair and an athletic build, he looked less intimidating than Marcus or Malik.
.
A waitress arrived a few moments later carrying enough food to feed a small army.
For the next several minutes, conversation faded into the background as both he and Barbara focused on eating.
Neither had realized how hungry they were until the food arrived.
Tristan had ordered grilled sea bass while Barbara had gone with a salmon dish.
After a few bites, Tristan cut off a piece of his fish and held his fork out.
"Try this."
Barbara leaned forward and took it.
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Wow, that's amazing."
"Yeah, it’s better than I expected to be honest."
A moment later she returned the favor, offering him a bite of her salmon.
Tristan tasted it before nodding approvingly.
"Good?" Barbara asked before she gave him more.
"Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised considering the city is known for its fish."
Liverpool might have been famous for many things, but the seafood certainly wasn't disappointing.
Tristan reached for another bite of sea bass.
Then paused.
The restaurant had grown noticeably quieter.
Conversations were slowing.
Heads were turning.
Even John glanced toward one of the televisions mounted high on the wall.
Tristan followed his gaze.
A familiar face immediately appeared on the screen.
Jose Mourinho.
The banner beneath him read:
WELCOME TO MANCHESTER UNITED
Across the restaurant, several people immediately started paying attention.
Football had a habit of doing that.
Especially when Jose Mourinho was involved.
.
Jose Mourinho’s POV
Jose Mourinho had always enjoyed press conferences.
Most managers tolerated them. Some hated them, viewing it as nothing more than distraction. But he wasn’t unlike any other manager in the world. He loved them.
To him, a press conference was simply another match.
Another opportunity to control the narrative.
Another opportunity to put pressure on rivals before a ball had even been kicked.
To his right sat Ed Woodward.
In front of them sat over a fourty journalists, the room’s limit otherwise it would have been closed to a hundred to say the least with the amount of attention on the Prem currently.
The moderator glanced around the room before nodding toward one of the raised hands.
"First question."
A journalist from Sky Sports rose to his feet.
"Jose, first of all, congratulations on becoming Manchester United manager."
Mourinho offered a polite nod.
"Thank you."
The reporter continued.
"You've managed some of the biggest clubs in the world and enjoyed success almost everywhere you've gone. After everything that happened at Chelsea last season, what made Manchester United the right place for your return to football?"
The room quieted.
It was a simple question.
But everyone wanted to hear the answer after the season United just had.
Mourinho folded his hands together.
For a moment, he looked around the room before speaking.
"Because Manchester United is Manchester United."
A few journalists smiled.
The answer was exactly what they expected.
But Jose wasn't finished.
"This club belongs at the top of football."
His voice remained calm.
"The history, the expectations, the supporters, the standards. Everything about Manchester United demands success."
He briefly glanced toward Ed Woodward before continuing.
"When this opportunity presented itself, I did not need much convincing."
More camera flashes erupted.
Mourinho leaned slightly closer to the microphone.
"I am here because I believe we can win. And if I did not believe that, I would not be sitting here."
Another hand immediately shot up.
The moderator pointed.
"Next question."
A reporter from the Manchester Evening News stood.
"Jose, Manchester United finished sixth last season. How confident are you in the current squad and what kind of changes can supporters expect this summer?"
Mourinho nodded. A more interesting question.
"I am very confident. Otherwise I would not be here."
Jose leaned back slightly in his chair.
"I see quality. I see experience. I see players capable of competing at the highest level."
He paused. "But football is always about evolution."
A few journalists quickly scribbled down notes.
"No team remains exactly the same."
Mourinho's gaze swept across the room.
"There will be changes."
That immediately caused several reporters to look up.
Transfers.
Everyone loved transfers.
"There will be arrivals. There will be departures. This is normal."
A smile appeared on his face.
"My job is simple."
A few journalists laughed.
Jose smiled wider.
"To build a team that wins."
.
Several more questions followed.
Zlatan Ibrahimović. Other names associated with the club this summer.
Pre-season preparations.
The expectations at Old Trafford.
The challenge of returning to management after leaving Chelsea.
Jose handled them all comfortably.
Then eventually the question everyone knew was coming arrived.
The moderator pointed toward a reporter near the back.
The journalist stood.
"Jose, Liverpool have just signed Tristan Hale for a world-record fee."
Immediately dozens of heads lifted.
The reporter continued.
"They are now being viewed by many as favourites for the Premier League title. How do you view Liverpool's chances this season and what are your thoughts on the rivalry that is about to develop?"
A small smile appeared on Mourinho's face.
Of course.
Eventually someone was going to ask.
"First," he said calmly, "Liverpool have signed a fantastic player."
The room remained silent.
"It would be foolish to say otherwise."
"Tristan Hale is one of the best players in the world."
One of.
Not the best.
Jose chose his words carefully. The Portuguese manager folded his hands together.
"But football is not played by one player. We can’t be afraid of one player because he was dominant in a system built around him. Without the system, he won’t be as great."
That quote immediately caused keyboards to explode into motion.
"Liverpool will be strong."
He didn’t even believe the line but he needed to gather the support of the players and fans around him. He needed to dispel the fear of Tristan around the club if they wanted to win anything.
"Very strong."
Then his smile widened.
"But Manchester United did not hire me because I am afraid of Liverpool."
A few reporters laughed.
Mourinho continued.
"We are building our own team."
His voice remained calm.
"We have our own ambitions."
He briefly glanced toward Ed Woodward.
"And our supporters should not worry."
Now the room was completely focused.
"Reinforcements are coming."
That immediately caused a frenzy.
Questions were already being shouted before he had finished speaking.
Jose ignored them.
"We are Manchester United."
The smile returned.
"And Manchester United should always fight to win."
He paused.
Then delivered the line he knew would dominate tomorrow's headlines.
"This is a new era for Manchester United."
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Lord_Shiva this is for u buddy, lol. The next few chapters will be basically setting up the new season with all the new managers and players so please give me some time before we get back to football.