75 Wolfe - Facing The Inevitable

Kate Abdo sat poised in her chair, the studio lights casting a warm glow on her composed expression. Across from her, Wolfe, the ever-opinionated Sun correspondent, adjusted his tie with forced confidence —or at least trying to.

The discussion for the show today mainly revolved around the third round of the Premier League. Kate knew she had to be patient, steadily guiding the conversation toward the inevitable.

Still pretending to be oblivious to the trap being laid for him, Wolfe enthusiastically recounted the results.

"Chelsea won 2-1 against Aston Villa at home," he began, his voice regaining its usual assured tone. "Although they managed to secure three points, it was a difficult match for Mourinho's side. Chelsea still lacks the sharpness they once had. Mourinho has been a dominant force in the Premier League, but to reclaim past glory, the road ahead will be much tougher than he imagined."

Kate nodded along, her expression unreadable. "And what about the other matches?" she prompted.

"Compared to Chelsea's struggles, Manchester City's 2-0 home victory over Hull City was much more straightforward," Wolfe continued. "Pellegrini has assembled a squad brimming with attacking talent, and their bench depth is stronger than some teams' starting lineups. The real challenge for him will be selecting the right strikers for each game. Manchester City looks comfortable so far."

He was in his rhythm now, speaking freely, as though unaware of the storm brewing ahead.

Kate, with a knowing smile, guided him further. "What about the other heavyweight matches?"

Wolfe nodded eagerly. "Ah, yes, the London Derby. Arsenal hosted Tottenham at the Emirates, and it was a thrilling game of attacking football. Arsenal edged past Spurs with a 1-0 victory, but it came at a huge cost. Rosicky, their midfield engine, suffered an injury and had to leave the pitch. Early reports suggest he could be out for weeks. A hard-fought three points for Arsenal, but at what price?"

Kate finally leaned forward, her tone still light but her words suddenly razor-sharp. Then, with a gentle yet deliberate smile, she finally asked, "Mr. Wolfe, you have reviewed all the games. Now, let's discuss the most important English national derby in this round—Manchester United's dominant 3-0 away victory over Liverpool. What do you think of that game?"

Silence.

The moment those words left her lips, the temperature in the studio seemed to shift.

Wolfe stiffened ever so slightly, his carefully maintained demeanor faltering for a split second. The mention of that game—the game he had been desperately trying to avoid—sent a wave of discomfort through him.

The shift in Wolfe's demeanor was immediate. His shoulders tensed. The color drained slightly from his face.

For a man who thrived on words, he suddenly had none. His mind scrambled for a response. Stay composed. Spin the narrative.

He cleared his throat, forcing a nonchalant chuckle. "Well, uh, although Manchester United won 3-0," he began hesitantly, his voice losing its usual confidence, "it wasn't as one-sided as the score suggests. Liverpool caused them a lot of trouble throughout the match—"

Kate cut him off with another question, her tone still light but her words razor-sharp.

"At the post-match press conference, Tiger King stated that he has 'half achieved the goal of killing Liverpool this season—one kill successful.' Does this concern you?"

The mere mention of One Kill made Wolfe break into a nervous sweat.

His mind flashed back to the moment Tiger King uttered those words. The chilling certainty, the ruthless confidence—it had sent shivers down his spine then, and it did so now. He had spent the last few days dodging discussions about the match, knowing full well that the moment he acknowledged it, he would have to relive the humiliation.

Still, Wolfe was a professional, and he had no choice but to respond. His voice, though steady, lacked its usual bravado.

"The season is still long," he said carefully, choosing his words like a man defusing a bomb. "Winning one game doesn't decide a season. When the second half of the season comes, I believe Rodgers' team will strike back at Old Trafford."

Kate tilted her head, her smile never fading. "So you believe Liverpool can recover?"

"Of course!" Wolfe nodded quickly, seizing the chance to redirect the conversation. "Liverpool has always been a resilient team. They won't take this defeat lightly."

Kate let the silence stretch for a moment, allowing the tension to hang in the air before she delivered her final jab.

"That's very optimistic of you, Mr. Wolfe," she said, her tone laced with amusement. "But I wonder—where was this confidence at the press conference? After all, you were nowhere to be seen when Tiger King was looking for you."

Wolfe froze. Wolfe's face darkened. His throat went dry. Kate had landed a direct hit.

The cameras captured everything—the nervous flicker in his eyes, the slight twitch of his fingers, the way his smile faltered for just a moment too long.

He opened his mouth to respond but found no words.

Kate simply leaned back, watching as he struggled to maintain composure. For all his bravado, Wolfe had been checkmated.

The show cut to commercials.