Divine Celebrity 92 (Patreon)

“Welcome,” I said as I looked at them, letting my gaze dance over their bodies for a long, self-indulgent moment, appreciating the effort they managed to put the way they looked even when I called them during this ungodly hour as much as their natural beauty.

Megan skipped her usual preference toward short skirts, instead preferring to wear jeans, though the skin-tight pants displayed her beautiful legs as well as her skirts, combining beautifully with her crop top. Her makeup and hair were perfect as usual, making me wonder if she lived with a team of professionals. 

One had to admire competency regardless of the subject.

Kim, on the other hand, dressed in her usual leather ensemble, giving a natural look like didn’t even know what makeup was — which was, amusingly, a look that required an equally long time in front of a makeup table to achieve. 

“Let me introduce you to Megan and Kim, coach, the two that would manage our vicious social media counterattack against the corrupt management,” I said. “Assuming you don’t mind, of course,” I said as I turned toward them. 

“Well,” Megan said, stretching the word even as she raised her hand, checking her nails. “It’s not exactly the type of publicity I like to be involved in, but it’s worth for an unrestricted favor,” she said. 

I smirked back. I had many ways to make her use that favor in a way that wouldn’t inconvenience me too much  — while making sure she enjoyed it thoroughly as well. 

I looked at Kim, who just nodded. “Excellent. Then,  operation let’s ruin the dean’s day can begin,” I said. “We need to raise as much stink as we can manage on social media.” 

“Do you want people to hate the dean, or Coach Spencer,” Megan asked, not wasting her time with pointless questions. 

“Equal amounts, but don’t forget to occasionally target the offensive players who chose to betray the team at such a critical juncture,” I reminded her. “I hope it wouldn’t be a problem.” 

Megan smirked. “Oh, believe me, it won’t,” she said. “Anything else?” 

“I want you to reach some of the players in the other teams, preferably sprinters and basketball players that can play the skill positions. We need some receivers and running backs, though a few players strong enough to play blockers wouldn’t be bad as well.” 

“That’s more difficult,” she said. “Especially when the football team is such a mess.” 

“We wouldn’t be throwing around starter positions like candy if things were going well, do we?” I asked.    

“Good point,” Megan said, already typing some messages. 

“Excellent,” I said. “Do you want me to be the one to talk?” I asked. 

“God no, why do we put your ugly mug there, when we have the first female coach of our football team, forced into a horrible situation just to make a sleazy rich boy look better,” she said. 

“Is it necessary?” the coach asked, looking slightly worried.

“Well, there are risks. If we fail, it’ll ruin your reputation even worse, but it’ll make sure they can’t just sweep it out, or make a show of fixing the situation by finding a more competent coach to take over. For good or bad, you’ll be identified with our little resistance.” 

“It all depends on how brave you are,” Kim declared. Juana looked at her angrily, but it was enough to conclude the decision nonetheless. 

The coach looked at Kim angrily, but Kim just shrugged, her beautiful red hair dancing. Silence ruled the room for a moment, but it seemed that Coach Juana had already made her decision. 

“I better go and handle the training,” I said, pausing for a moment to see if any of them had anything else to say. But Megan was occupied with her phone, while the coach was busy glaring daggers at Kim, who was smirking unashamedly. 

I left, not bothering to give detailed commands to Megan. She showed me that she was skilled enough to handle the situation. Not to generate an outright win, of course, but I didn’t need that. 

I just needed enough chaos to operate. 

I grabbed my books once again, my guide floating behind me, uncaring of the mortal concerns I had been displaying. 

I swung by the locker room, and saw the people in varying states of preparation. “You have two minutes to be on the field, and every ten seconds or missing piece of gear is a full lap,” I shouted, the amount of Intimidation I used leaving no doubt about the seriousness of the threat.

“Yes, Coach,” they shouted reflexively, which would have been a playful statement if it wasn’t for the fear in their tone. Even discounting the Intimidation, they had long learned that I followed my threats. 

It was another lesson I learned in the streets. Earning a reputation for throwing empty threats was the best way of losing all credits. People were much more careful messing with you if they knew every threat you let out would turn into reality…

One way or another.

I chuckled even as I swung by the equipment room, only to find it locked. Another little attempt to make our lives difficult. 

“Annoying,” I said, but a kick was enough to break the lock. Even without the Strength, breaking a door wasn’t as difficult as people assumed — especially if the door in question was not reinforced —  and with the boost of the Strength, breaking it down was trivial. 

I moved around quickly, first pushing out a few tackling dummies to the corridor, ready to be picked up by the players, then grabbed a great number of balls, cones, and a great number of other gadgets. 

I needed to design a new team, effectively from the scratch. No teams didn’t deal with that, usually, only a portion graduated, with enough underclassmen to replace the losses, and even then, they had a full year to redesign the team. 

I had less than a week to find players for each role including offense, defense, and special teams, while making sure everyone learned and practiced.

Even with my supernatural advantages, it was a difficult mission.

Those fucking shadows, I thought even as I balanced as much weight I could manage while keeping the book open, letting my guide continue reading, not wanting to interrupt her for long.  

When I arrived at the field, some of the players there, warming up, while the others were still arriving. “You, you, and you, start running,” I ordered the one that arrived a few seconds late — which I had seen from the window while getting the equipment — “and, the rest, go and bring the tackling dummies from the corridor. 

“Isn’t staff supposed to do that,” one of the veterans asked, though he was already walking, meaning it was more of an idle complaint. 

“Which staff, exactly?” I asked with a sigh, commiserating with him. No need to bite his head off just because he displayed some frustration. 

They disappeared even as another group, mostly practice squad players, arrived. “Start running, gentlemen,” I ordered.

“Why do we have to listen to him,” murmured one of the players, barely enough for me to catch even with my Traits.

“What did you say, red sixteen, you want to double your punishment run, done,” I called, making him stumble on his feet in shock, realizing he had been caught. He looked at me, and met with my grin that left no doubt about exactly what he had said.

He lacked the courage to push for more. “Catch up with the group if you don’t want another extra lap,” I warned, and he started running. “Red twenty-two, keep your stance straight, and don’t drag your feet. We don’t want an injury,” I called, followed by several more comments.

It was good to radiate an aura of superior awareness, both to avoid slacking, and to make sure they put in the necessary effort. The sooner they realized I was not playing around but could actually catch them slacking, the better their efforts would be. 

Meanwhile, the tackling dummies arrived at the field. “Place them to the left side,” I ordered, but walked there to help them after I finished spreading the other practice items I had brought along. 

“Join up the run and warm up, I’ll handle the rest,” I said as I started spreading them around,  my attention on the runners  — particularly the practice squad players, who I didn’t watch carefully before. 

I needed to make a decision on the positions, after all...