Football singularity-Chapter 375 Bayer 04 Plane Crashed

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[Sunday, 29/09/2019, 19:45 – Turin, Italy]

The Leverkusen team touched down at Turin Airport under the dim glow of a sunset that cast an amber hue over the city. It was nearly 20:00, and the players still fully felt the fatigue of their travel that was held up due to the faulty plane. Still, they did their best to maintain focused expressions. Rakim adjusted his black SainClair Suit as he stepped onto the tarmac, the cool Italian breeze brushing against his face.

{Welcome to Turin,} Eva quipped in his head, her voice laced with a hint of humour. {The city of Fiat, Juventus, and more defensive lines than you’d care to count.}

He smirked at her words, ’Let’s hope their defenders are as sluggish as the traffic in New York,’ he muttered under his breath, as he walked towards the shuttle that would take them towards Airport security. The drive was only about 10 minutes and given the fact that the club staff would handle their luggage the players only carried their carry-on. The Leverkusen squad made their way through airport security swiftly, as they were given priority checkout.

Their professional attire drew quite a bit of attention from fellow travellers and some staff, with cameras clicked here and there, but most people gave them space. The fact that airport security did their job to hold back any over-eager travellers who just so happened to be Leverkusen fans travelling out to watch their team play.

Once through, they were met by a sleek team bus, its exterior adorned with Leverkusen’s red and black crest, waiting to ferry them to their hotel in the heart of the city. Rakim settled into a seat near the back, his gaze flicking between the glowing city lights outside and his teammates scattered throughout the bus. Some chatted in low tones, while others, like him, seemed lost in their thoughts.

"Turin looks cozy, doesn’t it?" Rakim mused aloud, mostly to himself.

"Yeah, it’s a beauty for sure; I’m surprised you didn’t visit in your academy days. From what I hear you travelled around the world playing in tournaments across the globe." Leon Bailey said from the seat in front of him, a playful grin on his face.

"Naw I only ever came to Millan for the fashion week," Rakim absentmindedly responded to the guy as they drove by the Cappella dei Banchieri e dei Mercanti.

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"Fashion week? Are you some kind of rich kid or something?" the Jamaican winger asked out of reflex since he didn’t know anyone who was visiting events such as Millan Fashion Week before the age of 16.

"Ha Ha Ha, my parents are comfortable," Rakim replied with a short smile leaving Leon frozen in shock no longer willing to continue this conversation.

The conversation between Rakim and Leon trailed off, leaving the bus humming with a mix of low chatter and the occasional laugh. Outside the window, Turin’s streets became livelier as they approached the city centre. The golden glow of streetlights reflected off cobblestones, giving the city its unique charm. Cafes buzzed with evening diners, their tables spilling out onto the narrow sidewalks, while the faint aroma of espresso and wood-fired pizzas wafted into the cool night air.

Rakim leaned back in his seat, letting the scenery wash over him. Eva’s voice cut through his thoughts. {You seem unusually quiet. Nervous about tomorrow?} He smirked at her question, ’Nervous? Nah, just excited I finally get to play my favourite player in a real game at that.}

{hmm, just don’t let your excitement overwhelm you,} Rakim simply chuckled at her words not planning to hold his punches in the game, after all, what better first impression to give you here if not by defeating him in a Champions League match?

The bus came to a smooth stop in front of a modern hotel nestled between two historic buildings. Its sleek glass façade contrasted sharply with the old-world charm of its neighbours. A red carpet had been discreetly rolled out, and a small group of fans and reporters waited behind barriers, cameras flashing as soon as the players began to disembark.

"Alright, lads, quick and professional," Coach Peter Bosz instructed, clapping his hands to signal their cue. Rakim stepped off the bus, pulling his suit jacket tighter against the breeze. He waved briefly at the fans, his expression neutral but polite, just as he was about to follow Leon inside the building one of the reporter’s questions caught his attention.

"Rakim, how do you feel about almost dying?" The reporter asked over the different shouts of other reporters asking questions. The question came from left field leaving him stunned to the point he came to a stop to process the man’s words.

"What you talking about?" He immediately asked the NBC reporter not understanding why he would ask him that after all the shooting was half a year ago. Other than that, shooting he couldn’t think of a time he came closer to death than when he first opened his eyes in this world.

Now standing in front of the reporter who stood behind the hastily set up barrier he waited for him to clarify. "Your flight FB869 the one your team was supposed to be on reportedly crashed into the Matterhorn Mountain range." The chubby NBC reporter stated instantly freezing the atmosphere as even the players who were about to pass him stopped to listen to what the guy had to say.

Rakim’s breath hitched as his mind scrambled to piece together the information. Matterhorn crash? FB869? The connections clicked, sending a shiver down his spine. The faulty plane It could good well have been them if they went ahead with the flight. Leon Bailey, standing beside him, let out a low whistle, his usual grin replaced by a sombre expression. "Man… that’s crazy," he muttered under his breath, but his voice carried a hint of disbelief that matched everyone else’s reaction.

"The crash has been confirmed; we are still waiting for a response on the casualty list as the plane was on its way to Monaco." The reporter stated before once again asking his question, "How does it feel to come so close to dying again, considering you were shot half a year ago and will this have an impact on your performance in two days?"

Rakim’s heart thudded in his chest as he processed the reporter’s words, his left hand subconsciously touching his right chest area where the scar from the shooting was. "Are you being serious right now?" he asked the man after snapping out of whatever washed over him.

"People could have died and you are here looking to sell tomorrow’s paper? You should be ashamed of yourself Sir Colman, I’m truly disappointed," he started off his body language now visibly more confrontational adding the swaying of his dreads made him look like an enraged lion. "You asked me how I feel? Well, I can only thank God for watching over me and my teammates and giving the Club staff the sense to make the right decision. My prayers, my teammate’s prayers, and the organization as a whole pray for every unfortunate soul who was on that plane,"

After finishing his words that left not only the reporters stunned, but also his teammates who were ready to hold him back if he went off on the reporter, he walked away heading inside. The rest of the players and staff soon joined them inside, no one willing to answer questions as the tension whipped away the sleepy atmosphere they felt from their journey.

Inside, the hotel was a stark contrast to the chaotic energy of the outside world. The polished marble floors reflected soft lighting, and the towering columns gave off a sense of regality. Staff members in smart uniforms greeted them with nods and smiles, but it was hard to shake the sombre mood that followed them in.

Coach Bosz led the team to the elevators, his stern expression offering no indication of his thoughts on the incident. Once inside the lift, the team stood in relative silence, with only the faint hum of the elevator’s ascent breaking the stillness. Once they got onto the floor that the team had booked, they immediately headed for the conference room to meet up with some players who had headed in first.

"Is that really real?" Fredrick Bauer, the assistant manager, found himself saying as his eyes remained glued on the monitor hanging on the wall. He had turned on the TV to set up for the evening film session only to be met with the news channel broadcasting a plane crash. That wasn’t enough to peak his attention if not for the headlines ready [Bayer 04 Plane Crashed].

"I am afraid so my friend," Peter Bosz stated with a sombre tone only now remembering to turn his phone back on, sure enough, it blew up the moment he did.

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To Be Continued...