Alex sat in the back of the physics classroom. It was raining against the window.

Mr. Harrison was drawing a diagram of a rocket on the whiteboard.

"Escape velocity," Mr. Harrison said. "The speed needed to break free from gravity. If you go too slow... you fall back down. If you go fast enough... you fly forever."

Alex wrote it down in his notebook.

Escape velocity.

He liked that. It sounded like Mark.

"Mr. Finch?"

Alex looked up.

"Are you calculating the trajectory of a rocket, or a football?" Mr. Harrison asked.

"Both, sir," Alex smiled. "They follow the same laws."

"Good answer," the teacher said. "Just make sure your homework lands on my desk, not in the top corner."

School finished. Alex walked out.

The rain had stopped. The air was cold.

Mark was waiting.

He was not in a car. He was not on a bike.

He was standing next to a... sled.

A bobsled. On wheels.

It was painted bright silver. It looked like a bullet.

"COOL RUNNINGS!" Mark screamed. "GET IN, PROFESSOR! WE ARE THE JAMAICAN BOBSLED TEAM!"

"Mark," Alex sighed. "We are in London. There is no snow. And we are not Jamaican."

"Details!" Mark yelled. "Milo bought it from the Olympics! It is aerodynamic! It is the ultimate speed vehicle!"

"It has no engine," Alex pointed out.

"That is why Jude is pushing!"

Alex looked behind the sled. Jude Bellingham was there. He was wearing a harness. He looked like a very strong, very expensive horse.

"I lost a bet," Jude grunted. "FIFA. Never play Mark at FIFA. He cheats."

"I do not cheat!" Mark said. "I use... tactical glitches!"

Alex climbed into the sled. "To the training ground, mush!"

Jude started running. The sled rolled.

It was ridiculous. It was slow.

But it was fun.

The training ground was busy.

Steve, the manager, was waiting. He watched the bobsled roll into the car park.

He didn't even blink.

"Parking is for cars," Steve said. "Put the toy away."

Jude unhooked the harness. He was sweating. "Good workout," he said. "Leg day."

Steve gathered them in the meeting room.

"Bayern Munich," Steve said.

The room went quiet.

"Champions League. Round of 16. First leg. Away."

He clicked the remote.

The screen showed the Allianz Arena. A giant, glowing red tyre in the night.

"They are the German champions," Steve said. "They are efficient. They are strong. They are a machine."

He looked at Harry Kane.

"Harry. This is your old home. You know them."

Harry nodded. He looked serious.

"They are relentless, boss. They do not stop. Kimmich runs the midfield. Davies runs the wing. And Musiala..."

Harry paused.

"Musiala is special."

Steve clicked the remote. A video played.

A young player in a red shirt. He was dribbling. He moved like water. He went past three defenders without touching them.

"Jamal Musiala," Steve said. "The Dancer. He is twenty. He is a nominee for the Golden Boy. He thinks he should have won it."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. He is your mirror. You are the Brain. He is the Instinct. You calculate. He flows."

"How do I stop him?" Alex asked.

"You do not stop water," Steve said. "You contain it. You build a dam. You stay close. If you dive in... he will vanish. You must be... a shadow."

Alex nodded. A shadow.

Steve looked at Mark.

"Speed. You have a challenge too."

"I like challenges," Mark said.

"Alphonso Davies," Steve said. "The Roadrunner. He is the fastest defender in the world."

Mark stood up. "Fastest? No. I am the fastest."

"He has been clocked at thirty-six kilometers per hour," Steve said.

Mark's eyes narrowed. "I will run thirty-seven."

"Good," Steve said. "Because if you don't... he will catch you."

The flight to Munich was focused.

Milo was there. He was wearing a pair of lederhosen made of gold fabric.

"GERMANY!" Milo shouted. "SAUSAGES! PRETZELS! EFFICIENCY! ALEX! I HAVE A DEAL WITH A CAR COMPANY! 'THE GERMAN ENGINE'! BUT IT IS YOU!"

"I am British, Milo," Alex said.

"WE ARE GLOBAL CITIZENS!" Milo yelled.

Alex sat next to Jude.

"Musiala," Alex said, looking at his tablet. "His dribbling stats are ninety-nine percent."

"He is good," Jude said. "I played with him in the youth teams. His feet are like... snakes. You never know where they are going."

"Snakes," Alex whispered. "I hate snakes."

"Just step on them," Jude grinned. "Gently."

Wednesday night. The Allianz Arena.

The stadium was a wall of red. Seventy-five thousand fans chanting in German. It sounded like thunder.

Alex stood in the tunnel.

He looked at the Bayern players. They were huge. Goretzka looked like a superhero. Neuer, the goalkeeper, looked like a giant.

And there was Musiala.

He was standing near the front. He looked relaxed. He was chewing gum. He was dancing a little to the music in the stadium.

He saw Alex.

Musiala smiled. He walked over.

"The Professor," Musiala said. His English was perfect.

"The Dancer," Alex replied.

"I saw you win the Golden Boy," Musiala said. "Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"It is a nice trophy," Musiala said. His eyes were sharp. "But tonight... we play for a bigger one."

"We do," Alex said.

"Try not to fall over when I run past you," Musiala winked.

"Try not to cry when I take the ball," Alex shot back.

Musiala laughed. "I like you. Let us play."

The whistle blew.

The game started.

Bayern were a machine. Precise. Powerful. Fast.

They moved the ball with a terrifying rhythm. Bam. Bam. Bam.

In the tenth minute, Musiala got the ball.

He was in the middle of the pitch.

Alex stepped up. The Shield.

Musiala didn't slow down. He ran straight at Alex.

He dropped his shoulder left. Alex moved left.

Musiala was already gone to the right.

It was a ghost move.

Musiala drove forward. He passed to Harry Kane... wait, no. He passed to Sane.

Sane shot.

Ramsdale made a save.

"CLOSE HIM DOWN!" Ramsdale yelled.

Alex stood there. He felt dizzy. Musiala was fast. Not running fast. Thinking fast.

"He is reading my balance," Alex whispered. "He waits for me to commit."

Data point acquired.

He looked at Mark.

Mark was having his own battle.

He tried to run down the wing.

Davies was there. The Roadrunner.

They sprinted. Shoulder to shoulder.

It was a blur. Two of the fastest humans on earth.

Davies slid. He won the ball.

Mark got up. He looked shocked.

"He... he kept up with me," Mark whispered.

"Run faster!" Jude yelled. "Use the turbo!"

Halftime. Zero zero.

Arsenal were surviving. But they were not playing.

Steve stood in the middle of the locker room.

"They are better than us," Steve said bluntly.

The room was silent.

"Technically. Physically. They are a machine."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. Musiala is winning. He is making you dance to his tune."

"He waits for me to move," Alex said.

"So do not move," Steve said.

"What?"

"Do not commit," Steve said. "Stand still. Be a statue. If you do not move... he cannot trick you. Make him make the first move."

Steve looked at Mark.

"Speed. Davies is fast. Maybe as fast as you."

Mark looked offended.

"But," Steve said. "He turns like a truck. He is good in a straight line. He is bad in a circle."

Mark's eyes lit up. "A circle?"

"Stop trying to race him," Steve said. "Spin him. Use the 'Vortex'. Run inside. Run outside. Make him dizzy."

"I can do dizzy," Mark grinned.

Second half.

Alex changed his tactic.

Musiala got the ball. He ran at Alex.

He dropped his shoulder.

Alex didn't move. He stood still. He watched the ball. Not the feet.

Musiala twitched. Alex didn't bite.

Musiala had to stop. He looked confused. Why wasn't the defender dancing?

He tried to push the ball past.

Alex just stuck out a foot.

Block.

Alex took the ball.

"Class is dismissed," Alex whispered.

He passed to Jude.

Jude drove.

He saw Mark.

Mark was on the wing. Davies was tight to him.

Mark didn't run straight.

He stopped.

Davies stopped.

Mark spun. He ran inside.

Davies tried to turn. He slipped.

Mark was free.

He wasn't on the wing. He was in the middle.

"ALEX!" Mark yelled.

Alex was there. He had followed the play.

He got the ball from Jude.

He saw Mark making a diagonal run.

The Bayern defense was split.

Alex hit the pass.

It was a "Professor" special. A slide-rule pass. Perfect weight. Perfect angle.

It rolled through the legs of the giant defender, Kim Min-jae.

Mark ran onto it.

Neuer, the giant keeper, came out. He looked like a bear.

Mark didn't panic.

He remembered the 'fake fake'.

He faked a shot. Neuer flinched.

Mark dragged the ball to the side.

He had an open goal.

He tapped it in.

GOAL!

One zero. Arsenal.

The Allianz Arena went silent.

Mark ran to the corner. He didn't do the lightning bolt.

He pretended to be dizzy. He spun around in circles until he fell over.

"THE TORNADO!" Mark screamed from the ground. "I AM A TORNADO!"

Alex ran over. He hugged him.

"You spun him, Speed. You spun him good."

Bayern were angry now. The machine woke up.

They attacked. Wave after wave.

Musiala was trying everything. But Alex was a shadow. A boring, stable shadow.

He didn't let Musiala breathe.

Eighty-fifth minute.

Bayern corner.

Neuer came up.

It was desperation.

The ball came in.

Jude rose. The Power.

He headed it clear.

The ball flew out to the halfway line.

Antoine was there.

He controlled it.

The Bayern goal was empty.

But Antoine was tired. He couldn't run.

He looked up.

He saw Alex.

Alex was running.

"PROFESSOR!" Antoine yelled.

He passed.

Alex ran onto the ball.

He was alone. Fifty yards from goal.

But Davies was chasing him. The Roadrunner.

Alex wasn't fast. Not like Mark.

Davies was closing the gap. He was a shark.

Alex heard the footsteps. Thump. Thump. Thump.

He got to the box.

Davies was right behind him.

Alex couldn't shoot. Davies would block it.

Alex stopped.

Suddenly.

He put his foot on the ball.

Davies, running at full speed, couldn't stop. He flew past Alex. He slid into the net.

Alex stood alone.

The goal was empty.

He took a breath.

He passed the ball into the net.

GOAL.

Two zero.

Game over.

Alex raised his arms. He didn't run. He didn't shout.

He just stood there. Calm. Stable.

Jude ran over. He lifted Alex onto his shoulders.

"THE BRAKE PEDAL!" Jude roared. "YOU USED THE BRAKES!"

Mark ran over. "YOU SENT HIM TO THE SHOPS! YOU SENT HIM TO BUY MILK!"

The final whistle blew.

Arsenal 2. Bayern Munich 0.

Alex walked off the pitch. He swapped shirts with Musiala.

"You stopped dancing," Musiala said, looking impressed.

"I prefer chess," Alex smiled.

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