[Football] Bad Boy Batty

"I don't understand why my knees suddenly protested, without any warning or protection. Like Ronaldo, almost no one uses his pendulum pass now, because we all know that it is very damaging to the knees, but I...how can my action hurt my knees? Why?"

In the clinic, Batty was sitting on the hospital bed with his knees fixed. In front of him was a large screen that was divided into two parts.

On the left are Manchester City's team doctors based in Manchester, and on the right are Dr. Cugat and his team, who are trusted by Guardiola, in Barcelona.

Several team doctors of the Brazilian team stood around the bed. The three medical teams now have a common goal, which is to develop the most appropriate treatment plan for Batistuta.

"Relax, Batistuta, don't be nervous, your knee will be fine." Doctor Cugat comforted, "Every disease has a first time, we just need to ensure it-"

"First time? I hope it's the last and only time!" Batty stared at the screen and raised his voice, sounding a little sharp.

"Of course, that's our job." Cugat was not angry with Batistuta. He has been working in the medical field for 40 years and has seen too many players frightened by injuries. To be honest, Batistuta's reaction was very mild.

"-Well, now we should talk about the specific plan." Arandez on the left screen cleared his throat and said that he was here today to replace the medical director Sara who was attending a meeting. His colleagues thought that he had a good relationship with Batistuta, and Batistuta would be more relaxed if it was him.

"From what you said, it seems that you want to watch all the games in Brazil before coming back, right?" he asked.

"Yes, there are only two games left, one against Argentina and one in the final. Of course I can't leave." Batty made the request very naturally.

"Let's get back to the point, Batistuta." The camera was taken away by Manchester City's chief nutritionist Sylvia, who said to Batistuta seriously, "In any case, your diet structure must be adjusted. You can't be picky about food or starve yourself. The blood test results show that your iron content has dropped to the threshold, and the magnesium content has even turned amber. They should be a healthy green."

"...Oh my God." Batty rolled his eyes fiercely.

It's not that he has any problem with nutritionists, but Sylvia is the ultimate evolved version of loach, with a lot more professional terms and data. If he goes back to Manchester now, he has no doubt that Sylvia will chase him and feed him all kinds of unpalatable nutritional purees and vegetable juices.

Batti looked at Dr. Cugat for help.

"So, doctor, can I stay in Brazil to watch the final?" he asked. "The final will be on July 7. Can I stay until then?"

"No problem." Dr. Cugat nodded. "Your injury is very minor. The tear is almost invisible on the image. This is one of the main reasons why I am talking to you today. I want to show you the image of your knee ligament."

Dr. Cugat's assistant brought three films. The one on the far left was Batistuta's knee, and to the right were moderate and moderate lacerations. This could give people the most intuitive feeling. Even Batistuta, who knew nothing about medical treatment, could see from the above that his knee was much better than the two next to it.

"So—how long will I be on crutches?" Batty asked.

"Until the swelling goes down," said Dr. Cugat. "When it's gone and it doesn't hurt to move, you can walk around. According to my experience, this process will take about half a day to a day."

"Wow! That was fast!" Barty cheered. "So I don't need a custom cane!"

"Congratulations."

"Hey, hey! I'm glad you don't need a cane to move around, but that doesn't mean you can relax." Sylvia said to Buddy, "I'll send you the new recipe before this afternoon. Follow it strictly, understand?"

Batty was in a good mood when he learned that he didn't need crutches anymore. He saluted Sylvia in an awkward naval salute, and then winked at her romantically: "Understood, ma'am."

There was no need for Batty to join the conversation that followed.

The three-party medical team began to discuss more specific items, such as how long Batty should walk a day, how to fix his knees when resting, how much nutritional supplements to add to each meal and what types of nutritional supplements, etc.

Batty lay on the hospital bed and cleared his mind.

This is his first America's Cup.

It’s a bit regrettable that he had to retire due to injury.

I hope Neymar and his teammates can keep working hard. When they win the championship trophy, he will go on stage to celebrate with them. After all, he played in three group matches and one knockout match, so theoretically it is not an easy win.

Just then, Loach and Neymar knocked on the door.

"Hey!" Batty waved at them. "Good news! I don't need crutches. Dr. Cugat told me that I just need—what happened? Why are you so sullen?"

Loach walked to his bedside very seriously and waved the phone in his hand, "I have something to tell you, Batty. It's very important."

Batistuta noticed that the call was still displayed on the screen, and he looked at Neymar a little confused. Neymar gave him an expression that said, "I don't know what happened, but this is not within my scope of handling."

"Okay, who's calling?" Batty asked.

Loach looked around, called the Brazilian team's doctor, and whispered something to a few of them. In the end, the team doctor changed the room on the pretext of "not disturbing Batistuta's rest" and continued to discuss with Manchester City and Cugat.

After a few minutes, only Batistuta, Loach and Neymar were left in the clinic.

"Now tell me what happened." Batty's eyes returned to his younger brother, and after a few seconds of hesitation, he asked, "Is it - a gang matter?"

Loach nodded first, then shook his head.

"Not exactly." His face was full of complexity. "You should listen to it yourself - Aguero? We found Batistuta."

Aguero??

Batty took the phone, and before he asked, he first thought of the Argentine mafia, those gangs that roamed the streets, seemingly scattered but very lethal when gathered together. A few days ago, Bloodhound told him that he intended to join forces with several leaders there to replace Colombia's position in drug production in South America.

But that's between gangs.

How is Aguero, a football player, involved in all this?

"Hi, Kun, I heard you were looking for me?" Batistuta answered the phone and greeted him first. "What's the urgent matter? I thought you were preparing for the America's Cup. The semi-finals will be next week, right?"

“Yes, we should be training, but - we really have no other choice, and neither do the local police. The person in charge even contacted the embassy, ​​and they said they could borrow BOPE (Rio Special Forces), but BOPE is on a mission, and we have to wait until tomorrow night…”

BOPE?
That is the special forces unit that specifically deals with Rio's drug lords. Countless drug dealers have died at their hands, and they are also the unit that gives Blood Hound the most headaches.

Things seem to be a little troublesome when it comes to this, Batty thought.

"I need your help, Batistuta. This is offensive. After all, it's the America's Cup and we are opponents..." Aguero sounded tired. Batistuta could even imagine him sighing while talking on the phone with the corners of his mouth pulled.

"Relax, Kun, I will help you, but you have to speak clearly." Batty slowed down his speech, then he looked at Niu and Neymar and turned on the speaker, "You have to tell me what happened so I can know how to help you."

Aguero took a deep breath: "It's Brian, our team's assistant coach. He had a pain attack last night and wanted to get something to relieve the pain-"

"You mean drug."

"Yes, he likes to take some drugs normally." Aguero was helpless. "We don't know the specific process. Anyway, he was introduced to a local gangster who said he had high-purity drugs."

Batty shrugged. "It's a routine. You ask guys wandering the streets if they have any good stuff. They observe you. If you are a good sheep to be slaughtered, usually a foreign tourist, then they will take you to a deeper place. When you are smoking the dick, BOOM, a gun is pointed at you and you have to buy your life with all your property. I thought it was like this all over the world."

"Yes, he was introduced to fight Brian. He had some friendship with that person, so the local boss didn't do anything to him at first." Aguero corrected.

"Then he must have committed a crime." Batty said with certainty, "Let me guess, late at night, the phone call woke your team leader up, and when he picked up the phone, he heard a heart-wrenching cry, asking you to pay money to save him, like this?"

Aguero sighed heavily.

"It's pretty much the same as you described," he said. "The only difference is that they don't care about the money. They just called to inform us that Brian is dead." Batty opened his eyes wide and exchanged glances with the two people beside him. He smacked his lips and said, "Sorry, Kun, if that's the case, then forget it. He should have gone to see God by now. The local bosses in the slums are the most efficient."

“No, no, no!” Aguero quickly denied. “What they mean is that Brian is dead, but they will keep him until after the semi-finals, and the other side didn’t say what the result will be. It seems that no matter whether we win or lose, Brian will be—”

Huh?
This is a bit strange.

"Considering his status, he must have said something wrong," Batty said. "Do you know what he said?"

"Yes. The man who brought him in came to the hotel and told us that Brian was very excited at the scene, saying that Argentina would definitely win the America's Cup this time, and that... uh, it's the same old story, Brazil and Argentina hate each other... something like that."

Tsk.
Understood.
Living in the slums of Brazil, dealing with Brazilian drug dealers, and daring to say that the Brazilian team will lose, and lose to Argentina, this guy doesn't want to live.

Barty rolled his eyes.

Under normal circumstances, he would let this guy fend for himself. The local tyrants would listen to him because of their status, but sometimes when they got angry, they were more difficult to deal with than stones in a stinky ditch.

But it's not impossible.

Even for Batistuta, rescuing someone from the hands of the lowest-level drug dealers is easier than scoring a perfect hat trick on the field. He doesn't even have to go to the scene himself to solve it.

Of course, he wouldn't show up in the slums unless it was necessary.

After all, bullets have no eyes. Now the internal disputes are getting more and more intense. Batty does not want to be caught. The bloodhound is secondary. He cannot let his godfather be threatened because of him.

"I'll help you," he said, "but I still have a few questions. Kun, which area did your Brian go to?"

"I don't know." There was a commotion on the other end of the line. Aguero disappeared for more than ten seconds and soon came back. "Oh, Leo went to ask, and they said that area is Zone A."

"Area A... I remember that was One-Eye's place before. Where is it now?" Batty looked at Loach. "If it is, it's a good opportunity to punish him. The Hound has disliked him for a long time."

(Neymar: "One-eyed?")
(Bati: "He's also the boss of the neighborhood, one of my nominal godfathers. I posted a photo of him with me a few years ago. He's the ugly one wearing an eye patch.")
"It's him."

"Well, that's much easier." Batistuta seemed to have an idea. He asked Aguero to give the phone to the police inspector in charge.

In Brazil, if sellers want to stay safe, they have to bribe a few policemen.

Not to mention those in gangs, they hold very high positions in the police department.

The superintendent answered the phone, looking a little surprised.

Aguero stepped back and went to the corner of the hall with Messi. He calmed down a lot and stared at the floor under his feet in a daze.

Who could have imagined that they would encounter something like this when they first came to Brazil to compete a week ago.

"Can you, Batistuta, really let those people release Brian?" Messi asked softly, "I heard Ronaldinho talk about the drug dealers in the slums. They are cruel and unreasonable."

"We have no better solution." Aguero gave him a not-so-nice smile, "And I believe in Batistuta. He has a kind of - indescribable magic. I believe you can get Brian back."

Messi stopped talking.

But in his heart, his perception of Batty changed slightly.

Magic power... huh?

……

After hanging up the phone, Batistuta noticed Neymar's hesitant expression.

"What do you want to ask?"

"About..." Neymar opened his mouth, hesitated, and swallowed his words back. "No," he said cautiously, "The less I know about these things, the better."

Batty looked at him.

The loach also looked at him.

The air was quiet for 5 or 6 seconds.

Then——
Batty and Loach laughed together.

"Hahaha you're so cute! The less you know the better? What do you think this is, a CIA agent movie?" Batty crossed his arms and laughed until he coughed. "Come on, honey, slum gangs are not as complicated as you think."

After a pause, he added: "Well, it's a little complicated, but that's because times and technology are advancing. Brains are more important, but firepower will always come first."

Neymar was a little annoyed by the two men's ridicule, but he didn't intend to say anything and just stood there with a straight face.

"Speaking of this, Batty." Loach patted the boss on the shoulder, "Now that you have dealt with One-Eye, you should give the Hound a call. Maybe you should let him prepare."

"No, no need." Batty shook his head. "He is always preparing to take over other people's places, and this matter is not big enough for him to know. After the one-eye is done, I will go to him to invite--"

[Ding--]
Batty picked up his phone and looked at it.

"Speak of the devil." He raised his eyebrows at Neymar. "You want to know how complicated the slum gangs are. Here's your chance."

Neymar looked at his phone and then at Batistuta.

meaning is--

Is this a call from Bloodhound?
"...I'm in the hospital, it's nothing serious, just a slight ligament sprain...ah, it doesn't hurt. I need to rest for a month. I will stay here until the end of the America's Cup, don't worry." Batistuta smiled wickedly at Neymar while chatting with the legendary man who is the most capable and longest-lived man in the slums in the past 30 years.

What do you mean?
Neymar sensed a hint of danger, but by the time he wanted to get up and leave, it was too late.

"Hey Pops, I want to introduce you to someone." Batistuta grabbed his wrist and refused to let him go no matter what gesture Neymar made. "You know Neymar, right? He is the one who takes care of me the most in the Brazilian team. I am very grateful to him. He has wanted to talk to you for a long time. Give him a chance and talk to him."

No no no no!

As Neymar looked horrified, Batistuta pressed the phone to his ear.

A man's low and hoarse voice came from the other side, which perfectly matched people's impression of what a South American drug lord should look like. Almost immediately, he pictured in his mind an image of a burly, short man with dark curly hair and gloomy eyes.

"Hello Neymar, I'm Batistuta's father, Delain. Maybe you're more familiar with my other name. They call me Bloodhound."

Neymar's throat tightened.

It sounds like Batty's nominal adoptive father is quite hostile to him.

(End of this chapter)