Adab 2-2 Tumbra
TMB (4-2-3-1): 1 - Barker; 2 - Hughes (18 - Moss, 71'), 4 - Kerr, 5 - Henderson (20 - Moore, 85'), 3 - Harris; 6 - Harrison, 8 - Hicks (15 - McGrath, 78'), 10 - Cole; 7 - Hilton, 9 - Vaughn; 11 - Riordan
TMB scorers: Stephen Kerr (18'), Nick Riordan (33')
Player of the Match: Emma Arthur (ADB)
Tumbra 0-0 Eshialand
TMB (4-2-3-1): 1 - Barker; 18 - Moss, 4 - Kerr, 32 - Paterson, 19 - Carter; 6 - Harrison, 8 - Hicks (16 - Fisher, 74'), 10 - Cole (23 - Monaghan, 74'); 17 - Wells, 9 - Vaughn (21 - Crossley, 83'); 11 - Riordan
TMB scorers: Nil
Player of the Match: Trudy Harrison (TMB)
PREVIOUSLY ON DEFENDER MEETS MIDFIELDER
Intrepid defender Stephen Kerr and his world-class midfielder team-mate (and also girlfriend) Trudy Harrison, on a routine trip back to Tumbra for a national squad call-up, were seemingly kidnapped outside Kingsbury International Airport by several black cars. Turns out that said cars belong to one Charles Harrison, media magnate and the second richest man in Tumbra. Oh, and as the surname suggests, he's Trudy's estranged father, too. Why did he bring both of them (okay, just one — Trudy had to drag Stephen into the car before they allowed him to come) to his palatial mansion in northern Georgia? What does he want with Trudy Harrison? Will the two of them be able to get their time in Tumbra back on track?
defender meets midfielder: season 6, part 3
the house of the harrisons
Gleneagles Hall, Georgia
"Father."
"Trudy, it is so wonderful to see you again after all this time. And...Stephen, is it? Stephen Kerr, the up-and-coming defender for the Tumbran national team? Amazing. I have seen and heard so much of your performances. After all, the news is my business, and I have to be on top of it all. I wasn't expecting you to be here with my daughter, of course, but it is such a pleasure," beamed Charles Harrison. Here he was, the second-richest man in Tumbra; and Stephen Kerr was standing face-to-face with him.
Stephen smiled in response, perhaps more easily than expected, though by no means comfortably. He wasn't expecting the man to lavish such praise on him the moment he'd met him. His impression of Charles was that of a demanding, ruthless businessman; who had little to no emotional capacity and neither the will nor wish to deal with them. Austere, cold, distant; all of those words had been bandied about in whispers, when Trudy worked up the courage to talk to Stephen about him. But here he'd been greeted — the rough beginning with the other butler notwithstanding, of course — with warmth. And respect.
Would a Thank you suffice? What should I say? Nothing at all?
"It's...good to meet...you...too," the words tumbled out of Stephen's mouth. Charles laughed. Stephen half expected him to turn into some kind of demon.
"Have a seat. Tea was just served, dear boy, and I don't think you'll want to miss this. I've just received a fresh shipment of caviar from Aboveland. Combine this with Kyrasian foie gras, and good old Georgian bread, and I think you'll have a culinary experience for the ages. And it's only afternoon!" Charles gently motioned towards the table, where the food had been laid out beforehand. There lay the inky black caviar, freshly un-canned; and several pieces of brown bread lay arranged alongside it. Then, of course, on a plate next to it, the flesh-coloured lump that could really only be the foie gras.
Charles pulled a chair at the far side of the table out for Stephen, and Stephen sat. Somehow he felt like he was on rails; being controlled by strings. Everything in his brain was actively telling him that there was something wrong, and yet every muscle in his body was telling him to go with what was happening.
Trudy sat down, nonplussed, opposite Stephen; while Charles re-took his old place at the head of the table.
"Well, now that we're all here, let's eat. Stephen, you've never eaten anything like this before, have you?"
"No."
"Well, don't take too much of the two ingredients, now; too much and you'll overwhelm your taste buds. Go on," he said, eagerly jabbing his tableknife in the general direction of the foie gras. "Slice just a bit off; you'll be surprised at just how much there is on this. Ye-e-es, just that much." he mumbled, seemingly approvingly. Stephen could do nothing except meekly follow Charles' instructions, and missed Trudy turning away from the whole scene and rolling her eyes at just how stupid Stephen was being.
"Then the caviar; yes, that's about right, go on, spread that on the bread as well, and there you have it." A brief sip of tea followed. "Would you like a cup? From the highlands in...Tayakam, I think it was. It's good tea. You must try it." A cup was poured, and served in a cup that looked about a hundred years old. Stephen gave a brief nod of thanks to the butler, while smiling uncomfortably. He glanced over at Trudy, who was just silently eating the bread. Without foie gras. Or caviar. And also staring darkly at the table knife in front of her.
Stephen took a bite into the bread. God, the taste was rich. And salty. But it tasted...good. It was certainly a foreign sensation to his tongue. The way the individual eggs rolled around in his mouth, before he bit down and the little bit of liquid within spurted onto his tongue, confusing his poor taste buds even more. But he somehow came out of it wanting...a bit more. He looked over at Charles, who was positively beaming at Stephen.
"Now. Tell me a bit more about yourself."
An Indeterminate Amount Of Minutes (That Feels Like Sixty But Is Probably Closer To Ten) Later
"It was very, very interesting hearing about you, Stephen. With luck, maybe you shall become a regular guest at my place whenever you visit Tumbra. I am sure you will enjoy the rest of your time here; thank you for joining us. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a few things I have to discuss with Trudy—"
"Actually, I'd like for him to stay."
"Really, Trudy? I'm not sure if it's appropriate for him to sit in on our...family matters. After all, I haven't properly seen my daughter in so many years. Surely I can get some alone time with her?"
"N-n-no, I'd like for Stephen to stay. He is a guest and a g-good friend, after all," she stuttered, staring daggers at Stephen.
"I'd like to stay, yeah..." he mumbled, relatively unconvincingly.
Charles turned to Stephen. "Stephen, you've been amazing, though I must ask you to respect our privacy. I will get Walter to show you around — perhaps there might be something of interest in the house, and he'll show you some of the activities that you'll be able to enjoy in the time you're still here. I think you'd enjoy it, wouldn't you?" Another warm smile, though this one distinctly felt a bit less genuine and had a bit of — steel? venom? — in it. This was not a request. This was a command.
Stephen glanced back at Trudy, who let out a visible sigh and looked downwards. His heart sank; he'd basically allowed himself to be strong-armed into following whatever Charles had said. And he'd let Trudy down in the process.
"I...uh..."
There was no response from the defeated Trudy. Stephen allowed himself to be escorted out by the same people that had brought him in. The massive double doors out to the balcony closed behind him with a massive thunk, and he was gone. Face to face with Walter.
"Mr. Kerr. How was your meeting with Mr. Harrison?" the elderly butler asked, with a slight smile of cordiality betraying nothing more.
"It went, uh, fine, I guess? I don't know. I really want to be back there, with Trud—"
"Unfortunately, that will not be possible. I shall bring you on a tour of the house; we can talk more then."
Stephen resigned himself to having to be away from Trudy even more than he needed to be. Leaving her alone with the one man she feared the most. "Fine," he conceded. "Let's go."
Back On The Balcony
There she was. Again. Back in the home she'd left. Alone. With her father. Stephen could be anywhere now, though the only saving grace was that he was with Walter; who'd probably fill him in on the bits of the story he was missing out on. Still, though, she swore at him in her mind; Stephen, the dumbo, had allowed himself to be manipulated by her father without him even lifting a single finger —
"Trudy," he said, sitting down where Stephen had previously sat. A napkin was proffered by another butler; he took it and dabbed the corners of his mouth with it. The warm smile had disappeared; there was only the cold, steely eyes that Trudy knew so well. "You probably do not believe a single word I say —"
"Right. You're right. I don't."
Charles sighed. "But I do mean it when I say it's good to see you."
Trudy steeled herself. You cannot trust him. You cannot trust anything he says. Even if he is your father.
"This is a meeting I would rather have avoided. At all. The only reason why I'm here is because —"
"Yes, your grandmother. But I also thought now might be a good time to discuss your future. You've been gone for several years, now. Made your own name. Playtime's about over, don't you think?" Charles nonchalantly grabbed a piece of bread and spread foie gras on it, then scooped up the caviar and dumped it on the foie gras almost casually. Trudy noticed this — Stephen had held the food like it was gold. Here, though, her father was engaging in excesses she didn't know possible.
"I've got a career of my own, and I'm not about to give it up."
"And what about afterwards? Will you finally take your place by my side? I've come to the conclusion that so long as you join me, it doesn't really matter. If anything, your experience as a footballer's a selling point. People lap that up."
"My career is not meant to become just another bullet point on my resume, some unique selling point to make myself more marketable. I don't want to go into the media industry, Father; I don't wish to join the business of peddling lies and half-baked truths. We haven't talked in such a long time, but I haven't changed."
"Evidently not. Still as stubborn, obstinate, headstrong, wayward, as ever," Charles grumbled. The genteel, refined edge to Charles' accent had nearly disappeared; replaced with a harsher tone.
"Just like my mother, then."
"Young lady, don't bring your own mother into this." Another bite of the bread. A sharp inhale. "I thought allowing you to spend some time away would get your head straight. That pursuing football for a few years would get that dream of yours out of your system. I was wrong."
"I don't know what you expected. I mean, I'm me. Your daughter. I was always like this."
"Maybe so. Perhaps I was too foolish, too naïve, too blind; allowing my...my own familial relationships to get in the way of objective decision making. It seems that has been my downfall. All I wished was for my daughter to carry on my family business, keep the family fortune as is. Now I'll have to labour till the day I die. Unless..."
"Unless?" Trudy did not like that word. She hadn't been taught by her father in the ways of business for so long, now, but her instincts still didn't betray here. He wasn't thinking about —
A sly grin, one more malicious than the one he'd shown Stephen at the beginning of luncheon, emerged onto the 59 year-old's face.
"Interesting fellow, Stephen," Charles mentioned, almost too casually, as he began stirring the tea in his cup. Taking his time, and ensuring that Trudy was now hanging onto his every word, he took a sip. "You two are friends? Just friends, hm?"
Trudy tried her best not to betray what was going on in her mind, but a familiar nauseating sensation began forming in the pit of her stomach. Charles' eyes looked as though they were drilling into her...
Somewhere Else In Gleneagles Hall
"I want to talk to Trudy. We haven't gotten a single private moment since we stepped into this house, and I need to know what's going on," Stephen said, visibly irritated by the maze of corridors Walter was leading him down. "And you're not helping. I thought you were on —"
A shush from Walter. "Just follow me."
"I don't want to go on this house tour, Mr. Walter; I want to see —"
"Mr. Kerr, you know as well as I do that that is very much impossible. If Mr. Harrison wishes to have time alone with his daughter, it would be highly difficult, not to mention risky for all three of us, for us to barge in and go against him. I know what the plan was. I know she wanted you there, but it was simply unfeasible."
"Why did you not just tell her that, then?"
"Because she has already heard enough bad news this day." Walter unlocked a door with a key he produced from one of his pockets. "In. And I will, to the best of my ability, tell you as much as I can."
TUMBRA SQUAD FOR MD11 AND MD12: @ THE HAINAN UNION AND @ DAMUKUNI
Goalkeepers: 12 - Andrew Taylor (Couno Rangers), 13 - George Danvers (Columbia City), 24 - Victoria Jones (Gallant Cross, BRE)
Defenders: 2 - Ryan Hughes (Lakewood City), 3 - Nigel Harris (Lakewood United) 4 - Stephen Kerr (Chromatik, CMT), 5 - Harry Henderson (Aleuisia Capital, ZRH), 14 - Ian Ashburn (Lakewood City), 18 - Nicholas Moss (Miruan City), 19 - Chris Carter (Lakewood City), 26 - Raymond Perry (Serrapince FC), 31 - Joel Tyler (Couno Rangers)
Midfielders: 6 - Trudy Harrison (Chromatik, CMT), 8 - Vincent Hicks (FK Metropola Borograd, STL), 10 - Phil Cole (Osarese Marcadia, AUD), 16 - Andrew Fisher (FC Inter Nantwich), 23 - Susan Monaghan (Northern Stallions, BRE) 37 - Mark Finnemore (Couno Rangers)
Wingers: 7 - George Hilton (Serrapince FC), 9 - Robin Vaughn (Lakewood City), 17 - Valerie Wells (Swanguard Athletic, QUE), 29 - Duncan Silverwood (Pyathora Miners, TKT)
Strikers: 11 - Nick Riordan (Sabrefell Moths, NPH), 22 - Nigel Erskine (Anomalies, CMT)



























