"Get off the bus, Speed," Steve said tiredly. "We have work to do."

Mark climbed down. "It has a disco ball, boss! And a slushie machine!"

"We are playing Liverpool," Steve said. "Slushies will not help you against Van Dijk."

The team gathered in the meeting room.

"Champions League," Steve said. "Quarter-Final. First Leg."

He clicked the remote.

The screen showed Anfield. Again.

"We beat them in the league," Steve said. "We beat them last year. But this... this is Europe. Anfield on a European night is a different beast. It breathes fire."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. You have beaten them before. You know the code."

"Control the chaos," Alex said.

"Exactly. But this time... they will target you. They know you are the brain. They will try to disconnect you."

He looked at Jude.

"Power. You need to be the bodyguard. If they touch Alex... you touch them back. Harder."

Jude cracked his knuckles. "I will be a very polite bodyguard."

"And Antoine," Steve said. "You are the ghost. While they fight Alex and Jude... you disappear. You find the space."

"I am already gone," Antoine winked.

The flight to Liverpool was short.

Alex sat next to Mark. Mark was trying to solve a Rubik's Cube.

"It is impossible!" Mark yelled, throwing it on the floor. "The colors move!"

"That is the point, Speed," Alex said, picking it up. He solved it in twenty seconds.

Mark stared at him. "Witchcraft."

"Algorithms," Alex corrected.

Anfield. Wednesday night.

The atmosphere was electric. The Kop was a wall of red flags and noise.

Alex stood in the tunnel.

Trent Alexander-Arnold was there. He looked focused.

"Ready for another lesson, Professor?" Trent asked.

"Always learning," Alex smiled.

The whistle blew.

Liverpool started like a train.

They pressed high. They were aggressive.

Every time Alex got the ball, two players were on him.

Mac Allister and Szoboszlai. They were like pitbulls.

Alex couldn't turn. He couldn't pass forward.

He passed back to Bastian.

Bastian was under pressure too. Nunez, the Liverpool striker, was chasing him down.

"Clear it!" Alex yelled.

Bastian smashed the ball long.

It was ugly football. Arsenal couldn't find their rhythm.

In the 15th minute, Liverpool scored.

A corner. Van Dijk rose above everyone.

GOAL.

One zero. Liverpool.

The stadium shook.

Alex stood in the midfield. He felt the pressure.

"They are suffocating us!" Antoine yelled. "I can't breathe!"

"They are cutting the lines," Alex said. "They know the system."

He looked at Jude.

"Jude. We need to change."

"Change what?"

"The shape," Alex said. "We are a diamond. They are crushing the diamond. We need to be... a square."

"A square?" Jude looked confused.

"Box midfield," Alex said. "You and me at the bottom. Antoine and Mark at the top. Four against three."

"Mark in midfield?" Jude asked. "He will get lost."

"He just needs to run," Alex said. "Tell him to be a pest."

Alex ran over to Mark.

"Speed! Come inside!"

"Inside?" Mark asked. "But the wing is my home!"

"Today, the middle is your home. Run at their defenders. Don't stop."

"I can do that," Mark said.

The shape changed.

Arsenal formed a box in the midfield.

Liverpool was confused. Their press didn't work. There were too many passing options.

Alex passed to Jude. Jude passed to Antoine. Antoine passed to Mark.

Mark ran at the defense.

Van Dijk stepped up.

Mark didn't try to beat him. He laid it off.

To Alex.

Alex was arriving late. The space was open.

He was twenty-five yards out.

He saw the goal.

He didn't shoot.

He saw a tiny gap. A needle-eye.

He slipped a pass through.

To Antoine.

Antoine was one on one.

He chipped the keeper.

GOAL!

One one.

The "Box" had worked.

Alex smiled. Geometry always wins.

Second half.

Liverpool were angry. They attacked with fury.

Alex was the anchor. He blocked shots. He intercepted passes.

He was tired. His brain was tired.

70th minute.

Alex got the ball.

Mac Allister smashed into him.

Alex went down. His ankle twisted.

He lay on the grass. Pain shot up his leg.

"Get up!" the Liverpool fans yelled.

The physio ran on.

"It's twisted," the physio said. "You need to come off."

Alex looked at the scoreboard. 1-1.

He looked at his teammates. They looked worried.

"No," Alex said. "Tape it."

"Alex..."

"Tape it tight. I am staying."

The physio sighed. He taped the ankle.

Alex stood up. He limped. Then he jogged. Then he ran.

He was in pain. But he was the Professor. He couldn't leave his class.

85th minute.

The game was tied.

Arsenal had a free kick. Wide on the left.

It was a crossing position.

Antoine stood over the ball.

"Cross it to Bastian," Alex whispered.

"Too obvious," Antoine said.

"Then what?"

"To you," Antoine said.

"Me? I am short. And I have one leg."

"You are smart," Antoine said. "Stand on the edge of the box. Wait for the clearance."

Antoine crossed.

Ideally, it was a bad cross. It was too low.

The Liverpool defender cleared it easily.

But he cleared it... to the edge of the box.

Where Alex was waiting.

The ball dropped out of the sky.

Alex watched it.

He couldn't control it. Mac Allister was rushing him.

He had to hit it first time.

On the volley.

With his bad foot.

And his bad ankle.

Alex didn't think. He just swung.

He connected perfectly.

The ball flew. It stayed low. It cut through the air like a missile.

It went through a forest of legs.

It hit the bottom corner.

GOAL!

Two one. Arsenal.

Alex didn't run. He couldn't run.

He just stood there, arms wide.

The Pain and the Glory.

Jude ran over. He didn't jump on him. He hugged him gently.

"You are crazy," Jude whispered. "You are a crazy, broken genius."

"I am stable," Alex smiled through the pain.

The final whistle blew.

Arsenal 2. Liverpool 1.

An away win in the Champions League Quarter Final.

Alex limped off the pitch.

Milo was waiting. He was wearing a suit made of... bandages.

"THE WARRIOR!" Milo screamed. "THE WOUNDED SOLDIER! ALEX! I AM SELLING BANDAGES! 'THE FINCH FIX'!"

"Milo, I need a real doctor," Alex groaned.

Steve helped him to the bus.

"You shouldn't have stayed on," Steve said.

"We won," Alex said.

"Yes," Steve smiled. "We won."

Back in London.

Alex sat on his sofa. His ankle was iced and elevated.

Mark was sitting on the floor, eating pizza.

"You were brave," Mark said, his mouth full of cheese. "Like a lion. A small, limping lion."

"Thanks, Speed."

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes."

"Good," Mark said. "Pain means you are alive. And being alive means we can win the treble."

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