Norm Bates
Tolten's Fire
Tolten's Fire
"Thank you, sir. I won't forget this."
Walking out of the Riverwork Steel Foundry, James couldn't help but breath a sign of relief. Not many supervisors would have allowed a floor worker to leave work on such short notice. However, when the shift manager, Dick Walters, heard that James' wife had just gone into labor he was extremely forgiving. Rather than telling James to simply go back to work, Walters offered to actually finish out his shift. He'd have to find some way to repay the man.
After practically running across the factory yard, James finally reached the gate. From there, it was only a short trip to his house, where his wife was. Across Riverwork Avenue. Turn onto Johns Street. Pass Hughes Market. Stop for milk... no, too much of a hurry. Cross Meynard Street. Remember the light's broken, watch for cars. Turn onto United Avenue. Home.
When he reached the worn, red-brick rowhouse he stopped for just a moment. Like his father and grandfather before him, James had been raised in the slums of Tolten's industrial district. The vast manufacturing yards provided employment for just about everyone, but it was never enough to lift the people out of their squalor. The occasional 'slumrat' made it to a supervisor or management position, but never beyond that. Even in this day and age, the workers stayed poor. Was this really the place to raise a child? He really had no choice. Maybe his son could even do what he had never been able to.
James ran up the steps, and quickly opened up the door. Inside, in the modest living room, his wife was on the couch, surrounded by her and his mothers, her sister, and Sarah Dale, a National University medical dropout who'd set up something of an illegitimate medical practice in the neighborhood. As he walked in, it was obvious that the baby was just about to come. James' wife, Elizabeth, was screaming on the couch, with Dale calmly helping her along. Suddenly, it happened, and in a grand cacophony of screams and cries, the baby was born.
That Evening
What a day. Only hours ago, the room had been chaos. Now, everything had calmed down, and James sat next to his wife, with the baby in his arms.
"So, James, what're we going to name him?" Elizabeth asked with a tired smile.
The question caught James off guard; he hadn't even thought about that yet. Quickly pulling an answer together, he replied, "we could always name him after your dad. That could work."
Elizabeth was silent, taking in the suggestion. After what seemed like ages, she finally responded, "Norm... Norm Bates... yeah, I think that'll work."
The pass is received. Spot on. Bates turns on a dime. Flowing like water, he moves the ball up the wings. Fakes out and passes two defenders. At the corner. Unopposed. Perfect cross. Donovan with the header. Goal.
Thirty seconds after the flawless play the referee blew the whistle, further cementing the team's victory... and their 21 match winning streak. Once again, the boys of the Riverwork Union had managed to outplay even the toughest of competition. Among the various factory teams of the loosely organized Westside River Labor League, Riverwork was undoubtedly the best. This latest match, a 4-0 thrashing of Schmidt Refinery, was just one of a long string of successes.
As he walked over to the stands, the crowd of over 1,300 couldn't help but let out a thunderous applause for James Bates. With a goal and two assists this match alone, and countless more during his time on the squad, the 24 year old was far and away the star of the team. He was so good that many in the neighborhood thought he had a shot at making the pro leagues, if only a scout would actually venture into the ghetto that was the colossal industrial district of Gordonopia's industrial capitol.
Loving the applause, Bates stopped to soak it in before he headed up the steps of Riverwork Worker's Stadium. The stadium, usually known as The Field, had been a fixture in the neighborhood since the Riverwork Foundry had hired its first man. Built to provide some measure of entertainment for the thousands of employees at the steel mill, The Field had played host to the best football players in the local union for decades as they played against other nearby factories. Several years ago, the owners had decided to tear down the stadium and convert the land into more cheap housing for the expanding mill. In an act of unity rare even for the tight-knit communities in Tolten, the workers at Riverwork did everything in their power to keep that from happening. Not only did they give a small amount every day to a community fund, but they also contributed every dollar they made from overtime. Finally, only days before the scheduled demolition, the fund had enough in it to buy the stadium from the Riverwork management. Since then, the Union had played in its fans and players, rather than some wealthy fatcat, owned, and the stands, built to fit 1,150, regularly filled well over capacity.
Several rows from the bottom, James found his wife. Standing excitedly next to her was their two-year-old son, Norm, who was as excited as any toddler could be. Although he couldn't yet understand the game his father was so good at, the scruffy boy seemed at home in the atmosphere of the sport.
"Da! Mommy say you win!" the boy yelled as his father swung him up into his arms.
Smiling broadly, James nodded his head and said, "That's right, son, daddy won. Maybe some day you'll be winning too."
"What a day."
That simple phrase was the only thing James could say to himself as he navigated through the dark streets of his decrepit neighborhood, a happy spring in his step. He simply couldn't wait to get home and break the news of everything that had happened to his wife and six-year-old son at the game that day. Not only had his team, now riding on an 18 match win streak, trounced their biggest rivals, Heinman Ball Bearing, but something he had been waiting for for years had finally happened: a professional scout had dared to venture into the dangerous Tolten slums. The only damper on the day was the fact that his family had missed the match, with Norm home sick with the flu.
Perhaps he had been inspired by his first, and perhaps only, opportunity to impress a scout from a Gordonopia Football Association club, but James felt that his performance in the match that evening couldn't have been better. With a hat trick, an assist, and a solid performance deeper into the midfield, he had played to all of his strengths. Hopefully the fact that the man, representing hometown favorite West Tolten, decided to speak with James after the match was a good sign. Hell, he'd even asked for his address and work schedule; if that didn't mean something, James would be stunned.
As he passed the gates to the factory, getting close to home now, James stopped for just a moment. Perhaps today would be a new beginning. Perhaps it would be the day that he accomplished what his father, and his father before him, never could: rise out of the row houses, tenements and factories that had become prisons for those who they kept alive.
Several blocks on, James winced as he saw a man stumble out of a nearby house. The scout had kept James at the stadium long after everyone else had left, but although it was typically not safe to wander the slum's streets at night, James at least knew how to take care of himself. Still, it was never good to have a run-in with the typically inebriated men who frequented that particular building, which was well known as one of the area's few brothels.
As he got closer, James started to get a bit more nervous. The man was visibly drunk, and seemed to be moving slowly towards James. Sporting a well-fit suit, it was obvious that the man was from a much better part of town, but James had learned that that rarely made for a better man. As James started to move to pass, the man tripped over his own feet, bumping into James.
"Hey you damn rat," the man started to yell, using a derision that only served to incite anger in the inhabitants of the slums, "watch where you're going. It's 'cuz of people like me that any of your lot has bread on the table. You ought to show me a bit of respect..."
As the man trailed off, James apologized and tried to push away. It was taking everything he had not to give the man a good knock to the face, but the last thing he wanted was a fight on a day like this. Unfortunately, the man wouldn't have any of it.
"You're going to come barreling into me like that, you'd better be prepared for a good scrap."
The man drunkenly raised his fists, appearing to take aim at James.
"Look, sir, I really don't want any trouble. I'm just going to walk away, and we can forget about all of this."
James' attempt to avoid the fight failed, though, as the man lunged at him. In his intoxicated stupor, though, the man couldn't come close to James, who casually knocked him to the side, and tried to escape in the direction of home.
The man, though, wouldn't have it. "You're just going to be a coward, are you? Like some scared little monkey? What good is a slumrat that won't even fight back?"
To James' total surprise, the man suddenly drew a gun. Wide-eyed, James tried to back away, but the man was slowly advancing towards him.
"Sir, I have a family... what is it you want?"
With a dark look in his eyes, the man responded, "I just wanted a bit of goddamn respect... I guess a rat like you doesn't even know what that means."
For a moment, everything was still. For a short time, it was as if the world had come to a stop, and total silence swept through the neighborhood. The only thing that broke it was the shot.
"Norm, I'd like you to come speak with me after class."
Looking down at the paper on his desk, Norm Bates could see why his teacher had said those dreaded words: he'd failed a ninth year history test. Again.
After that, the class passed by in a blur. It wasn't that Norm was stupid, quite the opposite; he simply didn't see any reason to try. What was the point of school, especially the underfunded, underperforming schools of Tolten, if he was just going to end up in a factory like his classmates, like his mother, like... no, he didn't want to think about that. For years he'd been trying to move past the senseless murder of his dad, but it always seemed to come back to haunt him somehow.
Finally, when the day's last bell rang, Norm strolled slowly to the front of the class, where his teacher, Mr. O'Connor, was waiting at his desk.
"So what is it this time, sir?" Norm asked, already knowing the answer.
The tall, dark man waited a moment before answering, "Norm, I'm sure you're well aware of what failing this test means. If you'd passed it, you would have been able to pass the class, but failing it... well, let's just say that you're bright enough that I don't want to have to see you again next year. That's why I'm going to give you another chance."
With those last words, Norm slowly looked up and wondered what the teacher meant. "What do you mean, sir?"
"I mean I'm going to give you a chance to retake the test. There is one condition though."
Norm thought about what his teacher was saying for a moment. Although he had long ago lost the motivation to perform, he knew how much his failure was hurting his mother, who had always thought he had the potential to go somewhere in life. Maybe he could at least make her happy, so he decided to ask what that condition was.
"I want you to try out for the football team. I know why you're so averse to it, I remember watching him all those years ago. But I think this may be the best way to move past it, and after speaking with your mother the other day, I know that she agrees. Besides, Mr. Warner in Phys Ed. tells me that you blow everyone out of the water, even when you're not trying. Now, as a teacher I'm not supposed to let my outside engagements interfere with how I grade my students, but as a coach... when I find out that there's a kid who's out dribbling, out passing and out scoring all of my best players, I want to do what it takes to get that kid on my squad."
Norm couldn't respond. Mr. O'Connor was right that he had been avoiding football since his father's death; the memory was just so painful. But if his mother thought the same was as his teacher... perhaps they were right. Perhaps...
"My god... Bates passes another one... he's headed up the field... dodges Michaels... one on one... GOOAAALLL!!! This is incredible!!! I don't remember ever seeing a first year player with this kind of talent!!! And the ref blows the whistle!!! This is incredible, fourteen year old Norm Bates has just led Riverwork Municipal Secondary to its first provincial championship, with a 3-2 victory over the defending champs!!!"
Although he couldn't hear the television announcer, Norm Bates could feel the meaning of what he had just accomplished. At the beginning of the season, RMS was just another slumrat secondary school in Tolten's industrial district. Sure, it's players were decent, but they could never compete with the schools, especially the private ones, throughout the province that were bigger, better funded, more able to invest in athletics. Suddenly, as a first-year secondary student, one who previously had stayed as far from football as possible, Norm exploded onto the scene. Not only did he lead the province in both scoring and assists, but he had done it with little past experience. Maybe it was beginners luck, but maybe it was something more...
As the packed crowd at West Tolten Park, many more of them fans of the losers, Haverford Prep, who could better afford the trip and tickets, was a mix of celebration and silence, Norm was surrounded by his teammates. Although he had been the core of their team, they deserved the victory just as much as he. Early in the season, he had attempted to go it alone, rarely passing and mostly relying on his own movement. As teams began to double, and even triple team him, though, he slowly discovered that it was far better to win with an assist than to lose. As Norm began to refine his passing and crossing, the whole team seemed to perform all the better.
Amidst the celebration, Norm saw his coach, Mr. O'Connor, making his way over to where the team was celebrating. Immediately, Norm felt something that he simply couldn't describe. Completely impulsively, he gave the big man a hug, with tears streaming out of his eyes.
"Hey, it's okay. You did this. You won Norm. Your father would be proud."
Unable to reply, Norm simply nodded. He knew O'Connor was right. In the past few months, his entire life had been turned around. Since O'Connor had offered him a second chance to pass history if he tried out for the team, Norm had not only excelled on the field, but he had found something that had been missing since his father's death. It was as if all of the motivation he had lost in the past eight years had come flooding back. His mediocre marks were now among the top in the class, teachers and students seemed to respect him, rather than simply show him pity, and for the first time in recent memory, he felt as if he was truly happy. Hopefully, this was just the beginning.
Smart. Beautiful. She even had a personality. In every sense of the word Sarah Thurman, Norm's classmate, had been perfect. But in the year since discovering what football could bring him, Norm had discovered the only thing that brought him close, but not quite at the same level, to the thrill of the match: the chase. The chase for Sarah had ended last night, and even she realized it. A new challenge had to be discovered.
As he practiced on the field for the upcoming first-round of the playoffs, Norm could see that there were plenty of options. Miraculously, his second season on RMS's team had been even stronger than his first, where he had blown the rest of the league out of the water, and it was attracting a lot of attention. On top of the numerous scouts from club academies and universities that frequently attended practice, there was an ever-growing audience of girls who came out for nothing more than to watch him practice. The more he thought about it, though, the more he realized that that would be no fun. It would be like a man hunting his own dog.
No, he would need something more. He would need a true test. Perhaps he had just found it.
Running at a fast clip around the track was Samantha Dunn, possibly the most successful athlete at RMS outside of Norm. Both Sam's 800 and 1500 times had brought her victories at the All-Province Secondary Track and Field Championships last season, and as a second-year student like Norm, she was looking for more. Not only was she talented, though, but she had the perfect athlete's body. She was also a notorious ball breaker.
As he stood up after heading a ball past the scrimmage goalie, Norm looked over at Sam, who was just finishing a lap. For a moment, she looked over at him, giving him just enough time to give her a quick smile and nod. Her obviously forced smile told him only one thing: the hunt was on.
What a decision. After four years at RMS, Norm's future was the question on the table. With football programs around the country pining for him, he carried a lot of pressure on his shoulders. Several Gordonopia Football Association squads were interested in signing him, despite the fact that he had never played on their academy teams. At the same time, he was faced with the opportunity of becoming the first in his family to go to college. Both his skills, and his strong academic performance, would allow him to go to virtually any school in the country. After meeting with dozens of recruiters, though, he was still totally undecided. One more recruiter to meet with in his cramped apartment living room, and he would have to make the final call.
After so many meetings in the same place, Bates was feeling little nervousness. The fact that he was doing it in his home certainly helped; if the recruiters truly wanted him, they could venture into the impoverished Tolten slums themselves. After some waiting, Bates finally heard the last knock. Slowly, he got up from the aging couch, and opened the door. A greying, somewhat diminutive man was there. Although his stature was not nearly impressive as many of the recruiters Bates had spoken with, there was something in his eyes that left a good first impression on Norm; some kind of experience, confidence.
"I suppose you're Norm?" the man asked.
"That's right Mr..."
"Heinrich. You can call my Bill, though. I'm here to see if you'd be interested in signing with West Tolten."
So maybe the best would be last. West Tolten. Hometown heroes. It'd been awhile since they're glory days, back when Norm had been a baby, but they were still one of the few good things in Tolten. Tickets were just affordable enough for the poor to afford, if they saved a little, and the fact that many on their recent roster came from situations like Norm had helped further endear the top-level squad to the people of the slums.
"Well, Mr... sorry, Bill, would you like to come in? Have a seat?"
"I would love to," the man replied with a subtle smile.
As Bill slowly strolled into the house, finding a seat on the couch, Norm suddenly realized why the man looked so familiar: this wasn't some typical recruiter... West Tolten's head coach was sitting in his living room.
For several minutes, Bill strongly expressed his interest in Norm, and what he had accomplished over the past few years. Although not the only convincing presentation, it was certainly enough to make Norm consider the team. After a short time, though, it seemed as if it was done. That was when Bill brought up something Norm had never expected to hear from a recruiter.
"I need to get home to my wife, but I do have one quick question, Norm. You wouldn't be related to a man by the name of James Bates, by any chance?"
The question momentarily silenced Norm. How did this man...? Finally, he decided to answer, obviously a bit rattled, "Yeah. He was my father."
Seeing the shock his question had caused, Bill was slightly confused. "I recognized some similarities in your play style. I visited Riverwork Worker's Stadium one night, oh, ten years ago just because I'd heard from some old friends how good James was. I grew up over in Mont Creek, a few blocks over, by the way. Well, your father impressed me so much that I had to offer him a callback. I got his contact info, and tried to reach him about making a deal with the team, but I could never get in touch."
"My father was murdered ten years ago..." was all James could say initially.
"Oh. I'm... very sorry."
"No... it's, okay. Really, this almost makes it better. It was always his dream to get noticed by a pro team... I never knew..."
"Yes, he told me that. Well, I suppose I should be going. Remember, if you're interested in West, you just have to let me know."
Norm nodded as Bill stood, and was silent until Bill was just about to close the door behind him. Just before that could happen, though, Norm added a final few words: "Yes, I think I'll do that."
The time had come. After four years of school, thousands of hours of practice, and years of dreams from both him and his father, Norm Bates was stepping onto the professional pitch.
"Ladies and gentlemen, there is a substitution for West Tolten in the 68th minute. Norm Bates will receive his first professional cap as Al Schmidt steps off the field."
The home crowd, minus the high-up contingent from Riverwork that was attending hoping to see Norm play, was relatively unexcited. Some had heard of the rising star in the high school leagues, but most of the applause was for the outgoing attacking midfielder, Schmidt, who was one of the more popular players on the West Tolten side. Nevertheless, Norm knew that this was the biggest shot he had to prove himself.
Like most rookie players, Norm was entering his first game at a relatively safe time. The Machine was up 2-0 over Plains, as good a time as any to try out an untested young prospect. At first, Norm saw little action, and was simply searching for an opening, keeping clear of the Plains defense. The sheer leap in skill from his old high-school league to the professional pitch struck him immediately, and although he'd experienced it somewhat in practices, there was nothing quite like the real thing.
His first touch finally came a few minutes after taking the field. A Plains defender was moving the ball around, searching for a clear pass. Completely unaware of Norm so close to him. Immediately, Norm closed in, and with a perfectly timed slide, took the ball. He tried to move it up the pitch, but the defender he had just surprised had turned and proceeded to trip him. The resulting set piece came to nothing, and Norm found himself searching for opportunities once again.
That second chance came in the 76th minute. A solid pass from the central-midfield found its way to him, and Norm quickly found his way to the wings. Dodging a Plains defender, he moved up to a perfect crossing position with excellent timing. Preparing to take the cross, he hesitated for just a moment. Earlier in the game, a similar cross had failed because of early execution. Not wanting to let that happen, Norm's pause gave West forward Sorin Deljin just enough time to reach the box. Right before a Plains defender could close in, Norm fired off the shot, and as it sailed into the penalty zone, Deljin headed it perfectly into the net. Goal.
With an assist now to his name Norm was overcome with elation. He rushed to join his teammates for the celebration, and was pleasantly surprised when they were just as excited for him as they were for the veteran Deljin. Little did they know that this was only the start. Only minutes later, Norm would be the sole recipient of their attention.
In the 85th minute, the game was clearly in hand. That didn't change Norm's attitude at all when he received a long pass from the West Goalie, Ed Hammond. From the halfway mark, Norm could practically visualize a perfect approach to the box. Without waiting, he embarked on the route, and maneuvered around the defenders that came to challenge him. Little to his own surprise, though the crowd saw it differently, he found himself facing the Plains keeper one-on-one. The goalie never came close as Norm smashed the ball into the upper-left corner of the net.
This time, the entire stadium began chanting his name, and Norm was left with a sense of disbelief. By the time the final whistle blew, Norm realized how incredible his first game had been. With an assist and a goal already to his name, he had the potential to be a true offensive threat. As the team, and later Coach Heinrich, congratulated him, he could only respond with smiles and enthusiastic nods. At only 18, Norm Bates, the kid from the slums, the kid with the dead dad, had made his first mark in professional football. He could only imagine how many more were to come.
Blazing fast. Like a sniper. Unstoppable. In his first professional season, the Times of Tolten had described Norm Bates in as many flattering ways as possible. Granted, at 19 he wasn't yet the best Attacking Middy in the GFA, but if he kept up like this... was there a limit to how good one could get?
With Norm at the lead, Tolten had managed to make its first playoff in years. First up: FC Deska. It would be a test of how strong West Tolten's offense really was to put it up against the legendary Northern Wall, and their talented young keeper, only a few years older than Norm and arguably the league's best in the net.
As the teams took the pitch for, it hit Norm how much more excitement had been attached to his name since his debut earlier that year. Six goals and 10 assists can do that for a man. The Tolten fans were cheering him on just as much as Deljin, or Hansborough, or... any player on the squad. Hopefully he'd give them a show they could be proud of. It would be a fight, but perhaps he could just pull it off.
When the starting whistle blew, Norm stormed into action right away. Within a minute, he was already maneuvering up the field, preparing for one of the crosses that he had become so well known for. The ball was well in his control. None of Deska's defenders would be able to mark him in time. Deljin was in a perfect position. The pass is made. Perfect arc. Deljin's header. Stopped.
The cheering West crowd was silenced as Deska's keeper, Ludwig Strauss?, managed to deflect it by a hairswidth. That save had to be a once in a lifetime performance. Perhaps just luck. As the game ran, though, it became apparent that maybe that wasn't the case. The Machine found itself crashing against The Wall.
Several more chances resulted in the half. None came to fruition. More in the game. No result. Deska gets in on a skilled counter. On the board. Final result: 1-0. West Tolten shut out.
In the locker room, Norm was completely speechless. So much had been on his shoulders. He was the rising star. It was as if every deflection, every save, Strauss made caused Norm to grow just a bit dimmer. What could he do...?
"Norm, it's not you're fault."
Surprised, Norm turned to find himself facing Coach Heinrich. For a moment, he searched for words, but finally settled on what he was really feeling... "Bill... I was supposed to-"
"You will never tell yourself that again," Heinrich interrupted, "You're job is to go out there and play your hardest. Play for your team. Sometimes you lose. It happens. Get on with it. You have a whole career ahead of you."
Without another word, the coach turned and walked briskly out to meet the waiting press, leaving Norm to contemplate his words. He was, for the first time, experiencing a loss in a big game. If he thought about it like Coach Heinrich said, though...
Sometimes you lose. It doesn't end there.
It had come to this. The last few years had had their ups and downs. Leading the league in assists and being cut out of the National Team in the same season. Leading West to its first semifinal in a decade, before losing to Fusba. Helping his mother finally leave the slums, only to have her suffer a stroke, and be buried five months later. But this was Norm Bate's chance to truly leave his legacy. This was the Gordonopia Cup final.
Since the implementation of the division system only a couple years ago, eight of the Republic's best Gordonopia Football Association teams qualified for the Gordonopia Cup. From there, it was three rounds of knockout football to determine the champion. The only remaining obstacle between West Tolten and its first championship since the days of Norm's childhood was the legendary Gordonopia FC, the perennial title contenders.
As the game began, the 110,000-strong crowd roared with excitement. Although the match started slow, half of the fans were soon given something to really cheer about. After a counter by West fell short, GFC's goalie nailed a long pass to Howard Hawkins, the team's captain, who managed a perfect cross to Nacio Kirabo. Ed Hammond, West's keeper, never had a chance.
Up 1-0, GFC went into overdrive. It took everything West had simply to keep the ball out of the net, and Norm found himself playing back for most of the half. When he did get the ball forward, it was almost like his first playoff match all over again: the ball simply wouldn't go in.
It wasn't until late in the second half when a strange feeling came over him. During a short break in play, he turned to see Coach Heinrich looking right at him. Suddenly, the vivid memory of the locker room after that sour occasion washed over him, and the coach's words once again rang clear. It only took him a moment to realize: back then he had had a whole career ahead of him. That career had taken him here. Sometimes you lose. This wouldn't be one of those times.
It was in the 89th minute that Norm finally managed to get a good ball after an excellent slide tackle, and he knew that he needed to get it up the field. As he headed up, though, he realized that no one would be able to make it in time to receive a cross or pass. It was all on him.
As he neared the box, a Gordonopia defender came in for a tackle, but Norm managed to flip the ball into the air, jumping over the incoming player in the process. What happened as he hit the ground was so fast, so perfect, it could only be from some hidden reflex. With only a single foot making ground contact, he took control of the ball and tipped it up to hammer it in with his other boot. Twenty-five meters out. Goal.
West's fans erupted like never before. Norm Bates had delivered them into AET. Into a chance for victory when all hope had been lost.
After such a stunning performance, the team couldn't afford to give it up. Twenty minutes in, Norm fed an assist to Deljin, who managed a perfect kick into the net. Finally, Norm managed to take the second pass off of his own set piece in for a goal a few minutes later, and the game was sealed. West Tolten were the champions of Gordonopia, and Norm Bates had led them there.
In the ensuing celebration, Norm was pulled aside by his coach, and could only respond with an emotional hug. The old man had led him to this point, and had been the closest thing he'd had to a father since he was six. Sensing this, Heinrich gave only five words:
"He would have been proud."
Norm nodded in response. Yes, he would have been.
"...for all they've done for this city, let's have one last round of applause for our West Tolten boys!"
On the steps of city hall, the multitude of journalists and fans gathered let out a roar of cheers. It had been a few days since West had won its first championship in two decades, but the celebrations still weren't over. The team had gone from parades to talk shows to now meeting with the mayor. After a short press conference, a few members of the team had been invited to meet with the mayor in his office.
Inside, Mayor Warrens continued to give off a good show. With Coach Heinrich and several of the team's starters, including Norm, he was nothing but cordial. As they filed into his office, he even offered to hold the door.
"Well, Mr. Mayor, I guess I should offer our thanks for inviting us here," Heinrich began.
Warrens, though, shook off the thanks, saying with a chuckle "nonsense, it's the least I could do. You boys have certainly raised the city's spirits. Happiness is up, productivity is up, hell, even my approval ratings are up."
The last part was met with mixed grins and nervous chuckles from the players, who were well aware that Warrens' approval ratings counted for nothing. In ten years in office, Warrens had faced more than his fair share of controversy, but as long as Tolten's well oiled political machine kept its grip on the city, he was in no fear of being booted out of office. It would take a revolution, or at least some kind of war, to dig them out.
"I suppose I should say that this honor belongs to all of you. Over the past few years, you've come agonizingly close, but this year... well, it was one hell of a run. Of course the whole team played a part, but I'd like to say a few words to Mr. Bates over here personally when we're finished."
Surprised by that comment, Norm was somewhat tuned out for the rest of the short meeting. When the rest of the players and Coach Heinrich stood to shake hands, before leaving, Norm gave a smile and waited for the mayor to start.
"Funny, boy, but you look familiar. I never noticed it until I saw you in person but... well that's not what I wanted to say. What I have to tell you is that you can't let this get to your head."
The statement jolted Norm. Get to his head? He'd faced his fair share of ups and downs to know that, even after this win, he wasn't invincible. "What do you mean?" he decided to ask.
"I mean that you're still just a slumrat. You can lead the league in whatever statistic, sign whatever fat contract, but it doesn't change the fact that you're from the bottom of the barrel. I don't want you getting this victory ingrained into your mind. Might make you some kind of symbol for the rest of... your kind. The last thing we need is for peace of our city is for the base of the pyramid deciding they deserve better. Sure, a few of you might climb up, but there's a reason why the rest of you are where you are: it's your lot in life. Plus, with these rumors of some kind of Monarchist revolt going around, we need to keep things as orderly as possible. I hope you're bright enough to know what I'm saying."
Norm could not believe what he had just heard. The only response he had was to stand and march straight to the door. As he opened it and stormed out, he could here the mayor give a yell to him.
"Remember your place, boy. You don't want trouble."
Trouble was the last thing Norm wanted, but this... this was too much. Something had to be done.
Everything had happened so fast. New München, the inner colonies, the nationwide chaos... no war. Civil War. Whether one preferred to call it the Second Civil War, or, as some on the rising Monarchist side liked to view it as, the War of Restoration, it was undeniable that in a matter of a month the entirety of United Gordonopia had been thrust into conflict. The Republic, in power since 1863, was now fighting for its survival against the very monarchy it had supplanted. And, following years of corruption and strife, it was having the fight of its life.
Small comfort it was to Norm Bates that the war had not yet reached Tolten. That didn't change the fact that the streets of the vast industrial metropolis were in their own state of war. Many of the laborers who had been imprisoned for so long in the city's slums had taken the Monarchist cause as their opportunity to escape. Facing the combined powers of the city's police, and the Republican Army, which couldn't afford to lost its primary industrial base, thousands already lay dead. But at least they had stood.
The fighting itself had, of course, prevented any new season of the GFA from beginning. Because of this, and the fact that he had not yet been drafted, Norm had spent most of his time confined in the few blocks that surrounded his upscale apartment. After weeks, though, he was beginning to become stir-crazy. He himself was itching to enter the conflict that had drawn so many throughout the nation. It was not for the old order that he wished to fight, though. After growing up in the abject poverty that so many of his old friends were now fighting to escape, and even as an adult having to face the dark side of those who had thrived under the Republic's banner, he too wanted change. He could no longer sit around.
Knowing this, he decided to leave the comforts that his lifestyle could still offer. Taking back alleys and pathways that he hadn't navigated since his youth, he found his way through the city, past the numerous checkpoints and barricades. With only his cloths on his back, he finally found where he wanted to be: Riverwork. Home.
Hustling through the shadows, he maneuvered to where he had heard whispers of a major rebel headquarters place. Confident that he had found the place, he walked carefully onto the grounds of Riverwork Municipal Secondary. Almost immediately, he was met with a yell, and found himself with a gun pointed to his back. When one of the unseen men appeared to recognize him, though, he was led into the school with whispers.
Inside, he found that the rumors were true. The halls that he had walked as a student now buzzed with the activity of a growing rebellion. Tattered men and women were everywhere, many of them armed, many empty-handed, but amidst the mixed feelings of hope and despair, one could feel that everyone had the will to fight. After being taken through the halls, he felt his heart leap when he saw a familiar sight: Mr. O'Connor in his former classroom, now some sort of ad-hoc command center.
With a start, the man, Norm's mentor, the one who had first given him hope, turned and stared with a deep happiness.
"Norm. Welcome home. I pray to God you've come to join us."With hellfire, Tolten's reckoning had come. As the ultimate prize in the push to wipe out the Republican industrial base, the true fighting had finally come to Tolten. Neighborhood by neighborhood. Block by block. Building by building. Room by room. From the earth to the sky to the rivers that gave Tolten life, war was everywhere.
It had never occurred to anyone how total the fighting could be. Airstrikes, mostly from the Monarchists who had long since gained superiority above, were a constant occurrence. Artillery could strike at any time. Tanks and heavily armed infantrymen shared the streets with loosely organized militias, and fearful civilians. Nowhere in the city was safe.
All of this was absent from Norm's mind, though, as he fought to take Tolten Police Department Headquarters alongside a number of the insurgent forces that had brought the war to the city long before the Monarchist Military finally arrived. The only thing he could think about was victory. One hallway at a time, Norm and his comrades engaged the members of the bureaucratic machine who had been so unwilling to alleviate the crime-ridden slums of the city, but who had not hesitated at the opportunity to put down the strikes and protests of the laborers who inhabited those ghettos. On one level, taking the complex was simply another step towards the liberation of Tolten. On another, it was a sweet gesture of vengeance.
Taking point, Norm prepared to breach a room designated as 'Homocide Records', though he thought little of what was inside. Nodding at the men next to him to give the go signal, he tossed a hand-made explosive through the door's window, waiting for it to detonate before kicking the door down. Inside, there were only two men, both wearing the blue uniforms of a lawman, and Norm's small fire team immediately dispatched them. Although there were certainly some moral objections to the 'take no prisoners' approach, the frenzied nature of the ongoing battle made prisoners too much of a liability. This, and the high emotions that came with the storming of the TPD building.
As he made one final sweep, though, Norm caught a glimpse of something on one of the standing shelves that gave him pause. Among all of the files containing records on the city's murders for the past fifty years, one name jumped out in bold, capitalized letters: 'BATES, JAMES'.
Norm knew immediately that the case within the file could only be his father's. Suddenly, he realized something that made him order his comrades to hold their position so that he could investigate the file. In the briefing, the wing he was in had been described as the records area for modern closed cases. Norm and his mother had always been told that the case had never ended, that the killer had never been found.
Frantically, he tore open the file to skim through his contents, and came upon a page entitled 'Case Closure Report'. What he found made his heart practically stop. The 'perpetrator' line of the form contained a single name: Joseph Warrens. Joseph Warrens was the mayor of Tolten.
In almost complete shock, Norm could barely continue to read. He managed, though, to read through the 'final comments' section. The short paragraph contained there was simply too much for him to be able to contain his emotion:
Pursuing prosecution of perpetrator at this time deemed political liability. With no outside attention on the investigation, and the reputation of a high-profile civil leader at stake, the case officer believes that the actions committed are better kept out of public knowledge, unless necessary to sway the actions of the perpetrator in the future.
In a fit of rage, Norm threw down the report. This revelation was something he had never expected, but it gave him a dark motivation to fight harder than he ever imagined he would up to this point. The Warrens, and the entire corrupt machine that had sustained him, would pay.
The battle was over, but the fires were still burning. As the great Roger Stevens would soon write in his seminal work on the war, there was smoke in the city of steel.
Adding to Tolten's constant haze, a result of the industrial buildup on an unimaginable scale, was the smoke coming from countless sources across the city. Shell holes, burned out houses and factories, wrecked vehicles; walking through the streets of the city, it felt as if Norm Bates was engulfed in a cloud. This situation, though, was a fitting metaphor for the state of his mind.
With city finally in the hands of the Monarchists, at an abhorrent cost, the local insurgents who had been fighting for months were in a state of transition. They had not, yet, been folded into the regulars that composed the Monarchist armed forces. However, with Tolten finally quiet, they were left waiting for that to take place. This had given Norm his first rest in what felt like forever, but it had also left him with nothing to do but ponder.
Early on, his thoughts had been of nothing but revenge. While attempting to escape the city, Mayor Warrens had been captured by Monarchist forces. With his city was under martial law, removing his ability to surrender it, he was being held for a tribunal after the war ended. As his prison convoy had passed, Norm had had the opportunity to exact vengeance for the death of his father. Sense, though, only just managed to stay his hand.
His thoughts were now scattered over what would happen after the war. On the issue of Warrens, he was unsure. Given his record of extreme corruption, it was far more likely that he would face severe punishment, perhaps death, than other Republican officials of his stature. Norm would certainly give what he had found about his father's murder to see that happen. There was always the chance, though, that he would go free. If that were to take place, Norm was unsure of his reaction.
Beyond that issue, though, there was so much to think about. Even in its sorry state, Norm knew that he wouldn't be able to bring himself to leave Tolten. As such an important city, and with a number of its assets still miraculously intact, it would certainly be rebuilt. The more he pondered the situation, the more he thought of his best response. He would stay, and attempt to find a place back on a football team. Maybe he could bring hope back to a city so devastated by years of oppression and finally war.
Life moves on. Several years removed, the deep wounds inflicted by the war were beginning to heal. Tolten's factories were producing again. The ruins of neighborhoods were being rebuilt. The loved ones of those lost were finding peace. Many things had changed. Although innumerable workers still labored in Tolten's slums, they did so in better conditions, and with far more opportunities to escape. The corrupt machine that had ruled Tolten for so long had been replaced by a lean bureaucracy working desperately to expunge the remnants of oppression. One thing in Tolten, though, remained the same: Norm Bates was still the king of football.
Three years into the new Gordonopia Premier League, and now in his early thirties, Norm was one of the dominant Gordonopian players at his position, if not the sport. Although West Tolten had only just made the playoffs, thanks to a monumental late-season run, Norm's own performance would possibly be remembered forever. It was to no one's surprise when he had been offered the job of captain for the national team, following the national-team retirement of goalie Ludwig Strauss, one of his oldest foes and at the same time one of his closest friends. What had been a surprise, though, was how stunning his performance would be in the GPL following the announcement. Even at the season-end awards ceremony, where he was a favorite for the Golden Boot, which would make him the first attacking midfielder to win the award for best offensive player in the GPL, he could not believe what he had done.
As the announcer, legendary Gordonopia FC striker Howard Hawkins, strolled on stage, Norm was on the edge of his seat. As soon as the former national team captain began speaking, though, all his nervousness was laid to rest.
"The man about to receive the Golden Boot is a testament not only to the talent Gordonopian football has produced, but to the sport itself. Football is an everyman's game; from the Imperial Family to the poorest child, everyone has the ability to play it. This season's winner rose up from the meanest poverty during the days of the Republic, and has now become one of our sports brightest stars.
I could talk on forever about his past accomplishments in the GFA, about his heroic service in the war, or even about his time on the National Team. The reason for his receiving this award, though, is a culmination of the talent and experience that has made him so great. On top of his outstanding double-digit goals, he has achieved something no one would have believed possible: 31 assists. No other player earned half that number, and unless this man himself is the one to break it, I firmly believe this record will stand the test of time.
Now, without any further introduction, because at this point I'm sure you all know who he is, let me introduce our 2014 Golden Boot winner: West Tolten's Norm Bates!"
As he proceeded to the stage, Norm couldn't help but show the torrent of happiness flowing through him. To have a legend like Hawkins speak so highly of him, and to hear his super-human accomplishment spoken for the nation to hear... he simply couldn't keep his excitement inside. Although the World Cup was fast approaching, and the Gordonopia Cup was immediately in front of him, he couldn't help but think that this would be his greatest legacy. His greatest legacy in football, at least.
Another year, another step forward. During its last world cup campaign, Gordonopia had just edged into a 5th place spot in its qualifying group. Now, with only the match in Zarbli that the team was suiting up for remaining, the team had secured 3rd. It wasn't qualification, but placing ahead of several higher ranked teams and moving up in the standings was certainly something to celebrate. Just as Gordonopia grew stronger with every year the war grew more distant, Gordonopian football took one more stride in the world of football.
These were the thoughts running through Norm's mind as he watched his teammates prepare for the upcoming game. Though he still had one, perhaps two, cycles left in him, some of the men he was now leading would perhaps one day bring Gordonopia to the highest of heights.
Next cycle would, perhaps, bring more success. The experience gained in this group, and hopefully in the upcoming Cup of Harmony, would certainly help make that a reality. As would Gordonopian club football, which was rising even faster. Many of the players on this team also had a part in that.
Although he was undoubtedly the best at his role in the nation, that would not always be so. Young players were already starting to make their mark, and although Norm had started every match this cycle, reserve players had put on some impressive performances. Some even reminded him of himself.
As he finally rose to head out to the pitch, a few memories flooded through his mind. His father playing the game he so dearly loved. The championships his first year in Secondary school. Lovers past and present. The Gordonopia Cup. War. All that and more washed over him, and as the team filed out to the pitch, a sense of relief took hold. Another year, another cycle, another game. Another step forward.
