Chapter 16: [16] "Geometry Was Always My Best Topic"

Stade Valois was charged with nervous, anxious energy.

Now it was Wednesday night in the floodlights. The air was cold and stung the players in the lungs. There were no empty seats to be found in the stands, but no fans could not be heard. They were waiting. Humiliation against Belleville went through everyone’s mind. For the past three days the media had been heaping abuse on Luc, declaring him a fraud and a "one trick pony" whose trick had been well known.

Racing Club Bastille were set up on the field. Their outfit consisted of white kits. These weren’t the kind of thugs that Belleville have, but they seemed very disciplined.

"They’re playing a low block," Mateo grunted, jogging around Luc in the center circle. "The goalkeeper has four defenders and five midfielders right in front of them, and no room behind their line. They love challenging you to outrun them, but there’s nowhere for you to run. No space "

Luc studied the Bastille defence. It was like a wall made of bricks. They had watched the tapes. They felt that this man’s weapon was his speed, so they just eliminated the runway from the equation. They weren’t like Belleville that had a strong defence but still pressed high up the pitch. They were pure haram.

"Let them set up the bus," Luc said, his eyes roving over the areas between the players, "I will just take the keys."

---

The referee gave the signal to start with the blow of a whistle. The game began.

It was a bad, stressful football match for the first 20 minutes. They were unable to break through the final third whilst SC Valois maintained possession. Hugo was constantly looking up to play through balls but the Bastille defenders were constantly moving back, reducing the room.

The fans began to mutter. Frustration was building.

The two seasoned Frenchmen, the Bastille center-backs, were in a good mood. One of them taunted as Luc jogged by, "Where is the American rocket? No grass at all today Yankee, you’re just a big pile of shit."

Luc didn’t take the bait. He did not want to battle them with his flesh and bones. For a split second he closed his eyes, recalling the video room that was cold and dark. He recalled Juliette tracing on the screen.

Geometry. Angles. Psychology.

Minute 28. The ball was on the left flank with SC Valois.

Luc didn’t just wait and sprint at the end of the defense, he went about the whole thing differently. He dropped deep. He ran backwards, completely away from the far side of the Bastille penalty box, and whipped himself directly into the tight and crowded midfield.

The two center-backs looked at each other, confused. According to striker protocol, you should stay high to occupy the defense. Luc’s deep drop was an attempt to put his ’best foot forward’ and for them into making a decision. Do they scrape their defence of blinding perfection to go with him, or will they allow him to run free in the midfield?

The veteran centre-back just couldn’t help himself. He jumped out of the D-Line and stayed very close to Luc to keep the ball away from him while he was trying to turn.

It was the kind of thing that Luc wanted. There was a broken brick in the brick wall.

Luc was given a short pass by Mateo. He didn’t attempt to run. He squared up to the defender, holding the ball up with his back to the goal. He was waiting to the exact measure of seconds and allowed the defender to lean in with his entire weight.

Then Luc, as if nothing had happened, blindly back heeled the ball into the empty space the defender had just left.

"Hugo!" Luc shouted.

Hugo Blanc was already in the lead. He then hit the gap, picked up the back-heel pass and then SC Valois found themselves behind the Bastille midfield.

Hugo’s cross was blocked by the second centre-back but the stadium suddenly came to life. This was the first time they could break the code called Bastille.

Luc sprinted back to his spot, and locked eyes with the experienced centre-back who had followed him. The man didn’t laugh anymore. He looked rattled.

Luc said, "You went out of line. Best stay put, cause if you mark me like the stupid shit you are, I’ll bury you!"

---

The psychological warfare had started.

For the next ten minutes, Luc tortured the Bastille defense. He was a ghost. He would remain totally offside, strolling around the goal area, playing with the goalkeeper and making the defenders retreat to cover him. But as soon as he the ball was advancing towards him from midfield, he’d take off on a slashing run to the corner flag, pulling them wide and leaving space

He always ran in circles. He ran arcs. He took advantage of the blind spots on their shoulders. He turned their heads continually. He was using up all their brain power.

Minute 43. Just before halftime.

Mateo slid in for a hard tackle in the middle of the circle and pushed the ball to Hugo.

The Bastille defence immediately became alert and took a strict stance at the side of their penalty box.

Luc began his run. He ran in a straight line towards the old center-backs. The defender braced himself, expecting Luc to try and blow past him.

"TES," Luc said quietly while in his stride.

[System Notification]

[Acronym acknowledged: The Everything System>>>TES]

"Predatory Aura. Use it."

[System Notification]

[Predatory Aura activated]

On reaching him, Luc hit the brakes. At a sharp 45 degrees, he slowed down and looked towards Hugo immediately after he had killed his momentum by planting a firm foot into the turf.

The defender’s momentum took him backward, he was expecting a collision. Luc immediately accelerated on noticing this and as the defender tried to readjust to Luc’s unexpected change of direction, he lost his footing as his ankles crossed over. He looked like he had been dribbled to nothingness even when Luc had barely done anything.

Hugo saw the angle. He executed a low powerful pass just to Luc’s feet.

Luc made a perfect trap on the half turn. He was in a good position on the penalty arc. He didn’t take an additional touch. He wasn’t going to run any further, trying not to repeat the same mistake.

He opened his hips and curled a gorgeous, technically flawless shot with the inside of his right boot.

The ball looked great in the cold night air as it arced, curving through the diving goalkeeper and clipping the back of the net.

1-0.

Stade Valois erupted. As thirty thousand cheering fans stood atop the concrete, it shook. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Luc didn’t run to the corner flag. He turned and looked straight up at the VIP glass boxes hanging overhead of the stadium. He couldn’t see behind the tinted glass, but he knew that she was there watching. He lifted his one finger.

The message: I adapted. Now pay up.

---

The second 45 minutes was a master class.

Racing Club Bastille was in disarray. With no striker attempting to play in behind the defensive line, their low block was useless. They were forced to press forward to seek an equaliser and that finally gave Luc the open grass that he wanted.

Hugo fed in a cross in the 75th minute. Luc didn’t take the direct route this time at the goal. He ran toward the wing in a sweeping arc towards the touchline, forcing the defender to chase. The defender was forced to sprint 5 yards just to mark him.

The defender was all but exhausted by the time they got to the penalty box area. Luc performed a simple leg over and sent the exhausted defender to the ground, and fired the ball across the face of the goal.

There was a sprint from midfield that anchor man Mateo had completed, he hammered it home into the empty net as the keeper was focused on Luc, expecting a shot after he had floored the defender.

2-0.

The game was over.

The final whistle sounded, and the stadium was in an uproar. The media narrative was immediately overturned. Luc Beaumont was more than just a pace merchant. He was a tactician. He has grown in three days!

The celebration in the locker room was a vastly different experience to the Rive game victory or the Belleville defeat. It was not chaotic relief, it was pure dangerous confidence.

Mateo had grabbed Luc by the back of the neck and shook him. "You absolute genius! You made them look like novices out there!"

Coach Henri came in, with a huge smile and a dry suit for once. He didn’t even speak. He simply just shook his head in the direction of Luc.

---

Luc rushed to the shower, the hot water did away with the icy sweat from the match. He wore dark designer jeans and a tight black sweater.

His cell phone rang as he left the locker room.

Private club in the 1st district. L’Arc Paris. You’ve been added to the VIP list. Do not be late. — V

[System Notification]

[Objective cleared: Earn her respect]

[Reward: Affection x2]

It seemed Valérie was making a profit from her investment.