[Football] Bad Boy Batty

This was the only time that Manchester City players did not go to the nightclub to celebrate on the night of their victory. All the nightclubs in Paris were extremely disappointed. In addition to being disappointed, they joined forces with fans to launch a large-scale team search campaign on social networks.

However, they failed until the early morning.

So where did Manchester City's championship players go?
The answer is a tattoo parlor.

Yes, almost the entire Blue Moon team followed Batistuta to the tattoo studio where he had an appointment, and watched the captain get their names and the big-eared cup tattooed on their backs like a loaf of bread stuffed into a cylindrical cup.

"Stop staring at me, check your phone or go find something fun." Batty lay on the bed in front of the tattoo artist, supporting his chin with his arms crossed, and complained sweetly to everyone.

Since this tattoo project was large and covered a large area, in order to facilitate the tattoo artist's operation, he almost lay there wearing only his underwear.

"You make me feel like a fish on the chopping board," complained the Manchester City captain.

"No, no." Walker shook his head. "You don't look like the fish on the chopping board. You are much sexier than that dead fish, Buddy. Do you know where I always see this kind of scene?"

When his tone of voice began to become long and strange, most people had expected his answer, which was a rather obscene metaphor. A small burst of laughter broke out in the room, including the tattoo artist's snickering. This was common and did not affect his efficiency.

De Bruyne elbowed Walker.

"Thank you Kevin." Batty thanked him, and then gave the England defender two middle fingers, "F you Kyle."

"Ah? What?" Grealish didn't react. He looked around in confusion. "What are you talking about? Why are you guessing riddles?"

"Everyone understands it, but you don't. Shouldn't you consider that it's not the riddle's problem but your own problem?" Batty narrowed his eyes and smirked. "Oh, poor Jack, he doesn't seem to have a decent sexual enlightenment."

Grealish looked at Batistuta as if he were reading an encyclopedia, but he soon realized that the malicious captain would not answer his question, so he turned to the source of the question.

"What's that supposed to mean, Kyle?" he asked. "A dirty joke?"

"A tattoo parlor! Many people! A pornographic website starting with P!" Kyle Walker stared at him in disbelief and explained the cryptic ridicule to him, "My God, didn't you masturbate when you were a teenager?"

"Oh, this." Grealish finally understood, but he didn't seem embarrassed. "I used to look at it (Pornstar), but I didn't need it after I was 15. I always had company."

"Listen, he seems very proud." Batty teased lazily, "It's a pity that you have a partner only because you have a pretty handsome face and strong legs, not because you are smart."

"Pretty handsome?" Grealish's attention was always here. He frowned at Batistuta, then raised his hand to indicate his entire face, "This is not 'pretty handsome'."

"——Is this your main point?"

"if not?"

"Oh my god, Jack, you are such an idiot who knows nothing but football." Batty moved his shoulders, and the tattoo artist paused his tools at that moment, patted his arm and asked him to get up and take a break. There were still a few hours before the whole work was finished, and they couldn't stay in the same position all the time, they all needed to move.

Grealish was a little unhappy with such an evaluation, but he really had nothing to say, and even he himself said something similar when facing reporters.

"Even if that's true, it's so hurtful to say that - Wow!" The England striker felt as if a hand had grabbed his throat the moment his captain stood up and turned his back to him. He couldn't make any sound except exclaiming, "This is so, so beautiful!"

It's not just Grealish, others are like him.

The entire pattern is not copied exactly from the trophy, but there are obvious design traces on it, and everyone's name is cleverly integrated into it, including the head coach's. With Batistuta's spine as the center, the trophy mouth is about 15 cm below the back of the neck, and the two ears of the big ear cup are symmetrical on both shoulder blades.

It's like some kind of spray-painted poster, quite street art-like, but in black and white.

Although it is only a prototype now, just by looking at it you can imagine how beautiful and spectacular it will be when it is completed in the future.

"How is it?" Batty asked, tilting his head.

"It--" Grealish spoke first, but his poor language system prevented him from thinking of any gorgeous compliments, "I don't know how to say it, Batistuta--"

"Just say it's pretty." Batty shrugged, and the pattern on his back moved as if it were engraved with his breath.

"Very beautiful." Neymar gave his evaluation, "I have never seen anything so beautiful. I think it is not just a tattoo, it is also a work of art."

Walker made a sound of disgust.

"Uh - does it hurt?" Grealish stepped forward and carefully touched the skin next to the tattoo with his fingertips. They were emitting a bright pink color that only appears when injured.

"The tattoo process is to use a needle tip dipped in ink to pierce your skin. It hurts, but I got my first tattoo when I was 11 years old, and now I don't feel anything." Batty twitched his eyebrows at him, "Why, are you curious? Do you want to get one too?"

“No, no.” Grealish waved his hands and stepped back as if waking up from a dream. “I can’t. I don’t like needles. Maybe when England wins the World Cup I’ll consider getting one, but now, no, no.”

England wins the World Cup?
It seems that it will be impossible for him to get a tattoo for at least the next four years.

At this time, the tattoo artist came out of the inner room smoking a cigarette with another drawing in his hand. He blew a smoke ring at Batty and then asked, "Forgot you have another one to do. Where do you plan to tattoo this one?"

"You want more tattoos?" De Bruyne asked before anyone else. "I thought you were only going to get trophies and your name."

"Well, that's another plan." Batty waved his hand and said disapprovingly.

Walker pulled Stones to the tattoo artist, and they took a closer look at the drawing, which was a sci-fi and futuristic design that looked like an abbreviation of two letters.

"A.R?" Walker read them out. "Why did you get this tattoo?"

"It means virtual reality, which is my godfather's favorite and the direction of his next creation." Batty said, "I can't tell you more. In two years, you will be able to see it on the big screen. When you look carefully, you may find me in the background as a guest star."

The Manchester City captain said it quite naturally, without arousing any suspicion.

Apart from--

De Bruyne did not refute immediately. He lowered his head slightly and looked at the ground thoughtfully.

AR, the standard meaning is augmented reality technology, which is currently mostly used in the gaming field, but besides this, does it have any other meanings?

Under Batistuta's guidance, their topic soon came to the differences between colored tattoos and traditional black and white tattoos. Listening to the laughter of his teammates around him, the Belgian midfielder quietly concealed his worries, hoping that it was not what he thought.

……

After returning to Manchester, Batistuta began to help Joline cosplay that character. As the domestic championship was swept by Manchester United and the final winner of the Champions League was Manchester City, the two teams had a dispute again during the float celebration around the city. No one could drive the bus onto the streets of Manchester before reaching an agreement.

"Oh my god, I didn't expect your new tattoo to be so big." Qiao Lin rolled her eyes at the pattern on her friend's back. "I have to buy new concealer. The old one will definitely not be enough."

"Why do you have to cover it up?"

"Because Lu Ming Otakemaru has never participated in the Champions League." Qiao Lin gave Batistuta a fake smile, "Not only do I have to cover up these comic book-like tattoos on your upper body, I also have to use more dark foundation to change your color. That's a big project." "Wait--" Batistuta's hand holding the phone froze in the air, "I thought you wanted my help because of my skin color and hair color."

"Yeah, but this is the only way to get it right." Qiao Lin took out a comparison picture, "See, he has a cold tone."

"He has horns on his head, scales on his face, black eyes, and a tail behind his butt." Batty said sarcastically, "If you do this, I have to restore them all."

Qiao Lin looked at him with an expression that said, "Is that even possible?"

"What else?" She asked back, "Isn't this what you have to do when you cosplay? This isn't your first time, you should know."

"I don't!" Batty raised his voice and jumped up from his chair, "It wasn't so troublesome when I helped you last time. I just spent money on painting and wearing accessories!"

"Because the last role only required you to do those things." Qiao Lin crossed her arms, "You promised me."

"The premise is that I don't know what I'm going to do." Batty was firm. "Either you keep your tattoos and skin color intact and we continue, or I leave and you handle it yourself."

Qiao Lin looked over dangerously, and Batty looked straight at her. The two of them were in a stalemate for nearly 3 minutes, and finally Qiao Lin was the first to give in. After all, she just wanted traffic, and it was not unacceptable to sacrifice a little bit of restoration for this.

"Okay, that makes sense." She held out her hand. "You keep it. Don't cover up the tattoos or change the skin color, but you can keep everything else, including the horns on his head and the tail behind him. Deal?"

Batty hesitated for a few seconds and resolutely shook his friend's hand.

"make a deal."

Then he began to watch Qiaolin prepare herself. The first step was to take out a small box from her makeup bag, to be precise, a box for colored contact lenses.

"Since you promised to restore all the others--" Qiao Lin dragged out the last word and picked up one of the contact lenses with a small clip.

Seeing it, Batty's expression froze a little. "Is that the one with all eyes?"

"How clever! Too bad there's no reward." Qiao Lin pinched Barty's cheek like she was doting on her brother, "Now, are you ready to have black eyes and yellow pupils?"

……

When Guardiola came to Batistuta's house to visit him, he almost had a cardiac arrest when he opened the door and saw his captain with black eyes, yellow pupils and two gray horns on his head.

Then he slowed down, and the first words he said were: "Gosh, Batty, have you finally revealed your true form as a demon?"

Batty: ...

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not a monster yet." The Manchester City captain rolled his eyes and invited the head coach in. Of course, the full-eye beauty contact lenses made it particularly difficult for him to roll his eyes. "What do you want, Pep?"

"Nothing, just checking in to see how you've recovered." Guardiola sat on the sofa, then looked up and saw Batistuta, who still had black eyes and yellow pupils, and paused for breath again. "It looks like you've recovered well, and you're still in the mood to play dress-up."

"It's called cosplay, and young people like to do it." Batty said in a tone that said, "You're out of touch with the times."

This little bastard is bullying him again, Guardiola cursed helplessly in his heart.

"Seriously, Pep, what are you doing here?" Batistuta asked again, as if he didn't believe that the coach was just concerned about his health. "The season is over. Although the float hasn't been found yet, I'm on vacation now. If you have anything, you can send a notification in the group."

"Okay, in that case, my goal has been achieved. Have fun, Batistuta, I'm leaving now." Guardiola got up from the sofa.

The last time the two of them sat here was in the 19-20 season. The epidemic was serious at the time and the UK suddenly announced a lockdown, locking all of them in Batty's house. They discussed how to send everyone home.

Then the last time we talked here, Guardiola thought about it. It should be in the 16-17 season, when he just met the little bastard. Batistuta held a party at home on Christmas, and then he went to warn him not to mess around in his relationship.

It turned out that he did not go too far, but Guardiola's headache was not relieved much.

Damn it, the Catalan thought, he still liked the Batistuta who had just been injured and tugged at his clothes pitifully and asked him if he would miss the World Cup. Although this idea was quite immoral, he just couldn't help thinking so.

"Wait, Pep—oh my god, this thing is blocking my view." Batistuta stopped the coach who was about to leave. He took off one of his contact lenses and ran over. "Sorry, I was really annoyed by this thing just now, so I acted like an asshole."

Well, that's different.

If the person in front of him was the little bastard from a few years ago, he would never apologize to him, even if he knew in his heart that it was wrong. Guardiola turned around, and his mood became brighter. He felt sincerely happy and accomplished about this.

Look, this is the captain I taught.

"I'm fine, don't mind." Guardiola patted Batistuta on the shoulder. "You are a good captain. Adjust yourself well during this holiday. The new season is waiting for us, and there is also the World Cup in November. I think you should care about it very much."

"I do care about the World Cup. After all, this year - in short, I will not let the trophy be taken away by other teams in some stupid way." Batistuta raised his chin firmly and arrogantly, "But speaking of this, Pep, you have everything in the club now, do you consider coaching the Brazilian team?"

"Leave the club and join the national team to continue to endure your torture? No, thank you." Guardiola responded to this sensitive question in a joking way. "I see that you get along well with Zidane. The Brazilian team does not need me, but who knows what will happen in the future. Maybe I will go to coach Argentina at that time."

Batty twitched his eyebrows.

"Because of Messi?" he asked.

"No." Guardiola shook his head, "Because that would make you angry."

The air was quiet for a moment, and then they both laughed.

Before leaving, Guardiola gave Batistuta a few numbers and said that these were the contact information of new players who would join the team next season. Although there was no news yet in the transfer market, they had already contacted the other party's agent and family, and the result was basically finalized.

"Do I know this guy?" Batty asked, looking at the number.

"You know." Guardiola gave him a mysterious smile, "Not only do you know, you've even played against him. I'm going back, remember to check the group messages."

After seeing off the head coach, the King of Manchester City returned to his friend's room to continue putting on makeup, but he was always concerned about the new teammate he had 'played against' before.

'Ding--'

New news came, it was an email, and Batty immediately opened it.

Then, a picture of the guy he had tried to tackle but accidentally knocked himself flying popped up: Erling Haaland, 22, Norwegian, striker.

Looking at the strong and arrogant (?) Nordic youth in the photo, Batty suddenly felt a chill on his back.

(End of this chapter)