Law. He liked it more and more each day. Certainly, it was an improvement on the 'Brains' moniker he was handed at high school, and he had to admit, it did sound kinda cool.
Which was fortunate, given what he'd discovered last night.
After their hammering at the hand of Ochre Islands, the manager had idly asked what the tie-breakers were in the event things were still tight after the next match, and much to Law's embarassment, he had to admit he didn't know. So, as the team settled in for another night of plucking shards of bark chippings out of their socks after training had concluded at the playground - and mostly remarking on how easy it was to play when you weren't also constantly dealing with the itch of various fungal afflictions - Law headed to their shared sleepover room to study the rules and regulations of the tournament. He'd done this once already of course, back in Hasparran; a process which had lead directly to the founding of his kit company Lawwny, but now he needed to do it again, in a way that could only have happened in space laser dinosaur robot pirate land; which is to say, under the covers of his very top top bunk, illuminated by illicit torchlight. But he was doing it to keep reading, so it's okay. What he discovered sent both eyebrows flying up to the roof, and as the players climbed their ladders up to their own beds, he had to be as quiet as possible as he started to make some furtively whispered phonecalls and send a host of e-mails. Which, given he wasn't supposed to hae screen time after 9pm, carried with it a small element of risk.
The next day, he was prepared. Prepared as only Law could be.
"What's all this, Law?" Anti had asked, adjusted the fishing flies in his hatband as he and the team finished their breakfast together the following morning in the treehouse.
"This," smiled Law, gesticulating to the tressle table full of various boxes, the contents of which all appeared at first glance to be largely similar to each other, bar a few unique items in each box, "is the product of my night's work."
"Well yes, I assumed that," snorted Anti, "but what is it?"
"It's our coolness kit, Admiral Chuckles," smiled Law.
"Our coolness ki- wh- wait, Admiral Chuckles?!"
"Admiral Chuckles." repeated Law, to the backdrop of a few stifled laughs amongst the assembled team.
Anti frowned at his assistant with as much venom as he could muster. Which, as it turned out, was a surprising amount considering he was a man wearing full-length waders in small child's treehouse.
"Is that some kind of joke?" he asked, briefly contemplating swinging for the impertinent young imp.
"Yes. Well, no, but also yes. It's a joke with serious intent."
"You're going to have to explain this one to us, Law," said defender Asko Lippmaa.
"In words of one syllable, if possible," agreed Ernaustas Mannik, with half an eye on the many and deeply furrowed foreheads of star striker Josef Eskola.
"Well," started Law, "it's about those tiebreakers you asked me to look up actually, Boss."
"Which are?"
"Which is, technically." Law said, adjusting his glasses. "That is to say, there's only one."
"One tie-breaker?" Scoffed Anti. "But, what if we're tied on that, too."
"Seems unlikely," answered Law, "as the tie-breaker is 'coolness'."
"Coolness..." blinked Anti, as if the very idea was alien to him.
"As judged by Evan. So, no offence boss, but you need a lot of work. Hence, 'Admiral Chuckles'."
Again, more laughter from the assembled team.
"I'm well aware that we don't come from a particularly cool country," continued Law, "and that means we've got a lot of ground to make up. So far as I can see, the only cool thing we have going for us so far, and I don't say this with any smugness whatsoever, is that my nickname is quite cool. And you all legitimately call me by it. So. That's a good start. But, I'm sorry, Boss; there is nothing cool about a man approaching eighty years of age, who goes around wearing fishing gear all the time and looks permanently grumpy."
"I am grumpy," insisted Anti, "and getting grumpier..."
"Good! Keep hold of that energy!" Gesticulated Law, like a desperate salesperson, "and, start wearing, these."
With a flourish, Law reached into one of the boxes in front of him, pulling out a clown's red nose and a floppy pink admiral's bicorn, and placed them upon his the scowling face of his manager before he could object.
"Oh, you're so fired..." muttered Anti, to a backgorund of outright mirth from the team.
"You don't have that power sir, sorry," grinned Law, "trust me, I checked. Now, I've got the rest of the outfit in one of these boxes here, but basically we're going to do you up with a make-up smile and a floppy bow-tie, so the more you keep your natural scowl, the better, as far as I'm concerned."
"Sorry, Law," interjected Ernaustas again, "are whatever he is now - admiral-clowns, I guess - 'cool'?"
"Admittedly, I don't think so," replied Law, "but I'm hoping irony is. Or that it's funny, and laughing is cool. Either way, it's got to be better than, well..."
"Uh huh..." said Ernaustas slowly, following Law's flick of the head towards the sourfaced manager.
"I'm going for a drink," muttered Anti, "do whatever you want. If there's even a bar in this bloody place..."
The team and Law watched silently as Anti plodded petulantly towards the opening in the side of the treehouse, before cluthing the fireman's pole and slowly, painfully slowly, squeaking his way downwards and out of sight.
"I mean, tell me that isn't funny?" said Law, stifling a guffaw as Anti plodded across the lawn.
"It's funny," agreed Mykolas, "but I don't know if I'd say it was 'cool'."
"Yeah," agreed Ernaustas, "how do we make ourselves cool?"
"An excellent question!" exlaimed Law. "I'm glad you asked, Ernaustas. Or should I say, 'Shadow'."
"Shadow?!"
"Gentlemen," said Law, standing on a chair (cool) and projecting his voice to all those assembled, "in these boxes in front of me I have acquired for you all, overnight, a new set of kit for tomorrow's game, all featuring your new nicknames on the back."
"...why?" asked Mykolas.
"Nicknames are cool," answered Law, "so get used to being called 'Raptor'."
"Raptor?"
"Find the box with your squad number, and then grab your new team-wear," Law continued, raising his voice again over the general hubbub of twenty-three players moving boxes and walking around the table in front of him. "We need to look and feel the part, and we need to do it now."
"Excuse me, Law, but, are these leather jackets?" asked an incredulous Titus Belkevicius, whilst holding up a leather jacket with the word 'Hot Shot' emblazoned into the back of it with metal studs.
"Yes, leather jackets are cool."
"An ironic choice of adjective for something so unbreathable, no?"
"Well, you were all complaining about not feeling damp enough, anyway," dismissed Law, "although, that's actually the jacket Josef should have sorry. Hang on."
Reaching over, Law swapped the 'Hot Shot' jacket for the 'Dagger' one Josef Eskola was holding up. As he did so, a pair of deep black wraparound shades fell out of the pocket (cool), accompanied by a comb (cool), a couple of marbles (cool), a cool rock (goes without saying), and a bundle of football stickers labelled "swapsies" (super cool).
"Erm, Law?" asked a voice from the back of the room.
"What is it, Firefly?"
"My box has some wigs in it, too?" said Janus Echeverrie, unsure.
"Ah, yes, thanks for the reminder. Some of you will have additional items to wear, so get used to playing football in them. These are all things that I reckon Evan will find cool, so it is of the utmost importance you comply."
"Is this... a dinosaur costume?"
"Count yourself lucky, I've got to wear a suit or armour, apparently."
"Well, at least you're not supposed to be a pirate," said Illimar Ozers, sceptically, "Law, how am I supposed to play in an eye-patch?"
"Ah come on, Redbeard, you're a left winger, just wear it over your left eye! You only spend the game looking right anyway."
"Yeah, but, my depth perception..."
"Fine, but do you know how long it took to find someone here who'd make me a green and white eye patch at such short notice? Just wear the damn costume. The red beard attaches with stage glue, by the way, it should come off fine in the shower."
There was a murmur of dissent, but Law learned a lot that morning about how much the players actually did respect him and his attention to detail. Whether it was Erregu pulling on an assortment of kit carefully designed to conspicuously make him look like a sterotypical unconspicuous undercover cop (cool, and a feat of costume design that Law was particularly proud to have managed and produced in a single evening), Bogdan and Erramos getting used to their new capes and spandex leggings (cool), or Kaido adjusting to the idea of running around in a stetson (cool) with a lasso strapped to his hip (super cool), all of them did actually get into the spirit of things, and tried out their various new kits. They didn't exactly like it, but they were certainly going along with it so far. Either for the good of the team or at Law's request. He didn't actually care which, all that mattered was that he was getting buy-in. This was going to be cool. Super cool.
Finally, just as the team were almost done practising holding their leather jackets over their shoulder by the collar tags (cool) and perfecting their own individual swagger (also cool), it was Aksel who spotted one final detail that nobody else had.
"Law?"
"Yes, Dynamite?"
"What happened to the letters in the badge?"
"Ah, yes, the final ace up my sleeve. From now on, even though it's too late to change our entered name for the tournament with the CAFA, I checked, I still think it's best we stop referring to ourselves as Humpbacks, or talking about the FLBF at all."
"Are whales not cool?"
"On the contrary, whales and all sea-life is very cool, I think..." explained Law, "but the word Humpback itself just... isn't. And neither are acronyms, unless they stand for something cool. So. From now on, please, refer to ourselves as the Lightning-Tiger-Thunder-Blasters."
There was a deep sigh from many of the players. A few of them had even resorted to taking notes.
"Also, take a nap at lunchtime after the morning session, if you can. We're going to stay up late tonight before the big game tomorrow. Staying up late is cool... Plus, er, should we progress, you all need to start practising your hugs," said Law, hesitantly.
As Law said this, the rustling slowly stopped and twenty-three pairs of eyes turned to look at him. At least as many eyebrows headed upwards towards the ceiling.
"So we can name our designated hu- actually, you know what, let's just focus on one thing at a time," chuckled Law, having flashbacks to many an FLBF board meeting and picking up a football instead, "one battle's enough for now. C'mon Team Lightning-Tiger-Thunder-Blasters, we've got work to do. Now. Can anyone here do back-flips..?"
Team Lightning-Tiger-Thunder-Blasters (cool) Line-Up For The Final Group Stage Game
--------------------------- Inspector Noir ---------------------------
------------------ Karate-saurus ----- Raptor ----------------------
------ The Pale Avenger ---- Maverick ---- Agent Cowboy ------
- Sonic Boom -- Dynamite - Hot Shot - Shadow -- Redbeard -
[OOC: for clarity, it's the exact same starting eleven, but made cooler]
--------------------------- Inspector Noir ---------------------------
------------------ Karate-saurus ----- Raptor ----------------------
------ The Pale Avenger ---- Maverick ---- Agent Cowboy ------
- Sonic Boom -- Dynamite - Hot Shot - Shadow -- Redbeard -
[OOC: for clarity, it's the exact same starting eleven, but made cooler]
