Chapter 19: Baptism by FireAtlético Madrid B Training Pitch – A Ruthless Welcome

Jason wiped the dirt from his shorts, his muscles still stinging from Rafael Díaz's brutal tackle.

No fouls.

No complaints.

No mercy.

That was the Atlético Madrid way.

Díaz smirked, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You're in Madrid now, rookie. This ain't your academy league."

Jason dusted himself off and met Díaz's stare.

"I thought Atlético strikers were supposed to be tough," Jason said with a smirk. "Is knocking me down the only way you can stop me?"

The other players oohed in response.

Díaz's grin vanished.

"You'll regret that," he muttered.

Jason just shrugged. "We'll see."

Coach Burgos, watching from the sidelines, blew his whistle. "Enough talk! Play!"

Jason knew what was coming.

The real test was about to begin.

Survival Mode Activated

The next ten minutes were brutal.

Every time Jason touched the ball—Díaz and Ortega were on him instantly.

Shoves. Shoulder barges. Late tackles.

Jason fought to keep his balance, using his body to shield the ball.

But they weren't just testing his skills.

They were testing his mentality.

And Jason refused to back down.

Then, finally—his moment arrived.

The Perfect Counterattack

Miguel Fernández, the attacking midfielder, intercepted a loose pass and quickly turned upfield.

Jason instantly reacted, sprinting into open space behind the defenders.

Miguel spotted the run and chipped the ball over the top.

Jason exploded forward—

Ortega lunged in.

Jason, already anticipating the tackle, used a quick body feint to skip past him.

Now, only Díaz stood in his way.

Jason locked eyes with him, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Time to return the favor.

He dropped his shoulder, acting like he'd go left—then cut right with a burst of acceleration.

Díaz lunged—too late.

Jason was already past him, racing into the box.

One-on-one with the keeper.

He took a quick glance—then drilled a low shot into the bottom corner.

GOAL.

The net rippled.

Silence.

Then—cheers from his teammates.

Jason turned and stared at Díaz.

"Guess I passed the test," Jason said.

Díaz clenched his jaw.

Coach Burgos, watching from the sideline, gave a small nod of approval.

"Not bad, Cross. But one goal won't make you a starter."

Jason smirked.

"Then I'll score more."

Burgos chuckled. "Good. Because if you don't, someone else will."

Atlético Madrid B Training Ground – The Real Battle Begins

Jason sat on the bench, gulping down water. His chest heaved from the intense scrimmage.

He had scored a goal in training—but one goal wasn't enough.

The competition at Atlético Madrid B was fierce.

Emiliano Vázquez, the team's starting striker, was watching him closely.

Vázquez was tall, strong, and clinical. A pure number nine who had already made the bench for the senior team in a few Copa del Rey matches.

If Jason wanted his spot—he had to take it.

Coach Burgos clapped his hands. "Alright, listen up! We've got a friendly against Getafe B in two days. That means one thing—some of you will play, some of you won't."

Jason sat up, alert.

This match was his first chance to make an impression in a real game.

Burgos continued. "The starting lineup will be decided tomorrow. If you want a place, show me why you deserve it."

Jason's eyes flickered to Vázquez.

Their battle had officially begun.

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The Striker's Duel

The next training drill was one-on-one finishing.

The rule? Simple.

A midfielder plays the ball into the box.

The striker must finish before the defender closes in.

Jason and Vázquez were in the same rotation.

Vázquez went first.

First attempt: A clinical volley into the top corner.

Second attempt: A powerful strike through the keeper's legs.

Third attempt: A composed chip over the goalie.

Jason watched closely.

Vázquez was the real deal.

Now, it was Jason's turn.

First attempt: A lightning-fast turn and a driven shot into the bottom corner.

Second attempt: A fake shot to send the defender flying—then a smooth finish.

Third attempt: A one-touch curler into the far post.

Vázquez raised an eyebrow.

Jason met his gaze, his expression calm.

They both understood—

This was a war.

And only one of them could lead Atlético Madrid B's attack.

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The Decision

After training, Jason sat in the locker room, waiting for Burgos to announce the lineup for the friendly against Getafe B.

Burgos stepped in, clipboard in hand.

"Striker for the next match…"

Jason held his breath.

"Emiliano Vázquez."

Jason clenched his jaw.

But then—

"…And Jason Cross."

Jason's eyes widened.

Burgos smirked. "We're playing two strikers. Let's see who really deserves the spot."

Jason felt his pulse quicken.

This was it.

His first chance to play in an Atlético Madrid B shirt.

And more importantly—his first chance to outshine Vázquez.

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