And here's part two of the Record Saga of Sterling Bengtzing! Interviews, saucy information, mystery character and mystery celebrity lady!

Art by the amazing  pac, hoping it's self explinatory with the story~

All part of the  furrybasketball universe!

All the dialogue in this piece is to be ICly in Swedish.

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“Of all the times he has a heart, it HAD to be now?” “I honestly thought he was gonna call in a replacement...” the white and blonde badger grunted. “How is it fair he keeps a coker bitch in the record?” he huffed, clearly upset.

“I’m sure he had his reasons, sport.” the older mustelid, his father, replied. “Plenty of opportunities will pop up for you. You don’t need that to be successful.”

“But it’s bullsh-!”

The mother silenced the bickering pair. “Guys, the doctor’s coming...”

“Mr. and Mrs. Lagerström, thank you for coming here, we have some news to tell you about your son’s recent tests...”

---

SVT Studios, Gothenburg, Sweden

The two marbled polecats were waiting in the dressing room, a canine assistant helping the athlete up to look his best as he fixed his clothing and hair. “I felt you did the right thing with Joanna...”

“Don’t remind me Roland.” Sterling huffed, raising his arms for the assistant to get his duties done, the canine wincing out of Sterling’s sight as he hesitantly fixed his clothing. “I was almost eaten alive by the Stormvind, but hell if I fought for my reasoning and WON. I’m going to make this as I want it and hoping the bitch don’t do that again...”
“That’s my cousin,” Roland said, deadpan. “You’re nicer than I woulda thought.” the polecat nodded to Sterling, who looked himself in the mirror once the grooming was over.

“I guess I’d be ready! You stay here, and relax, Roland. There’s the TV for you to watch the show.” Sterling pointed out, as he fixed his hair from the excessive retouching the studio staff made.

The canine looked at Sterling’s bare feet, his claws looking as if they went a while without trimming. “Um, do you have any footwear, Mr. Bengtzing?”

“Nej? I thought I was gonna go like this?” Sterling asked back, used to his barepawed stance and disdain for most footwear.

“May you please wear these boots here?” the dresser asked, insisting it would be for the TV only. The mustelid cocked his head, somewhat annoyed. “It will be only for the screening.” the canine repeated.

“Five minutes to call! Five minutes!” everyone in the room heard.

“Come on cousin, it’ll be just a while, they don’t want ya to go out there with gritty feet in national TV.” Roland grinned, splaying on the couch.

“Ugh, whatever.” the athlete replied, sticking his large footpaws in the black boots. He had to admit they were close to his only remaining pair, and it’ll be just for one occasion, so relenting wouldn’t be so much of a hassle. The lights dimmed as the jingle sounded loud, the polecat standing at the edge of the stage, undetected by cameras. The camera focused on the show’s host, on their chair and sofa’s nestled on the edge of the stage as the jingle sounded loudly. “Hejsan, Sverige! Welcome to another edition of Skavlan! I’m your host, David Skavlan, bringing you with the latest of pop culture news!” the charismatic highland bull elaborated. “Tonight we got a very special guest, returning to Sweden for the first time since he started his pro-career, shaping up to be one of the hottest free agents this year and one of the most notable players for years to come, welcome up Sterling Bengtzing!” the reporter announced, the polecat walking up confidently across the stage, the crowd cheering up for the guest this episode.

“So first of all, what IS ‘Vägen Till Tokyo’? What is this record about and why do you think it’s becoming such a big deal in Sweden?”

Sterling grinned, gesturing excitedly in his explanation. “Vägen Till Tokyo is a flash display of talent of all around Sweden to bring them that feeling of belonging and give many young people that push towards the world of sports. They could go from everyday furs in their hometowns, to furs that, everyone in Sweden would want to be! For many of these furs, This will be the first step of the rest of their lives.” Sterling nodded. “In reality, they could try a league and be small for all their life, as scouts check these leagues once every never…. or get knowledge, the will and the motivation towards making it big one day, and unite Sweden in a sense of patriotism, hence why the Olympic concept and name. But... you knwo Skavlan… I got a surprise I haven’t revealed yet.”

“Let’s hear it, Sterling!”

“The Stormvind, the sponsors and I will give away spots for an intensive Summer/Fall camp for the 12 furs that impress the most on Friday. They will travel over different countries, visit different scouts, train with League-approved regimes and get a lot of doors open for their future!” The audience clapped and cheered, Sterling grinning, knowing he ignited a fire in the collective asses of the tens of participants.

“Holy smokes, Sterling! Going all in with this record and shaping Sweden up! Speaking of, there were people you invited personally for this record, am I right?” David asked, leaning his elbows on his desk.

“Ja, Skavlan, Ja. I invited Stormvind EFBL players, two draftees declaring for this year, a surprise to be revealed in Södertälje and of course…” Sterling winked at the audience. “Miss Sweden 2016, Renate Lundhammar!” the wolf whistles from the crowd deafening.

“Now, let’s go on and speak about Sterling Bengtzing himself. Lots of people like you, lots dislike you, but overall, you have made your impact and no one can’t deny that. Why do you think your following is so staunch and rooting for you? What is Bengtzing offering? Why do you think everyone has strong opinions and feelings about you?” Skavlan asked.

Sterling looked up, tapping his foot and remembering his words. “Most of my fans are… underrepresented or misrepresented in the media, and maybe in their real lives. I think I’m.... pretty much the only active player in the league who represents everyone accurately and that every demographic can find themselves on. There’s what Onca represented in the early 2000’s: Strong, bold, competitive, no-holds-barred...” the polecat fixed his hair. “My pappa taught me that classical, European and nineties way of playing. But unlike your typical player, I was encouraged to hit the streets, listen to stories, see the desire people there play with. So I’m assimilating all that and forming this new style that combines old, new and unknown. The basketball scene is being homogenized, and it should not. Not everyone should play the same, act the same, pretend to be someone they are not. Therefore Sterling Bengtzing is here! To represent!” the mustelid flexed at the crowd, encouraging them to cheer.

“Now this is a game we play with our guests, the Assault! We ask a questions in a quickfire game and you gotta pick an option!”

“I heard of this, man. I’m fucking ready!” Sterling exclaimed.

“Guitar or Keytar?”
“Psh, are you fucking kidding me? Guitar, of course! Fucking kinda question is that?”

“Sweden or America?”
“You only asking this cuz of the US’s sitch… But since I am here for now, and y’all treating me kickass, I have to say Sweden!” the audience cheering loudly.

“Swedish Girls or American Girls?”
“There’s something about Swedish girls you can’t find anywhere else. Going with the Valkyries!”

“Blondes or Brunettes?”
“Redheads...” the mustelid winked at the audience, knowing full well that fiery otter who wore the Miss Sweden crown was out there. “But between the two, I pick blondes...”

“On that topic… Natural or Implants?”
“Doesn’t matter as long as they’re big and feel great!” he laughed out loud.

“New York or Billings?”
“I have to say New York. The story I written there will never be overridden by any other place. New York made me who I am.”

“Day or Night?”
“Night. Is when the fun starts!”

“General Managing or Coaching?”
“Oooof…” the polecat pondered. “I mean… with coaching you can directly influence a team and gear up for good. But a General Manager can create the whole universe of what a team franchise is… I’d pick GM. I would want to be the head of the org… And if the coach ain’t cutttin’ it, gotta go!”

“And finally...stay in Montana or move another team?”
Sterling fell silent at the question, almost answering by reflex, before staring pensive and slightly upset at Skavlan.

“Just kiddin’…” the host smiled.
“Ya can’t ask that like that…” he leered at the host, chuckling at the situation afterwards.

“But in all, since you’re a free agent, that question had to be asked. What is your POV about it? Are you thinking of staying in Montana if they offer, or you rather move?”

This question was inescapable for the polecat now, as much as he tried to avoid hounding reporters in the US, Sterling did offer himself to open about this in his adopted country. He nodded, taking a deep breath. “See, unlike every draftee, I know there is a chance I won’t stay with my original team forever, some might not even see shit at all, their GMs might be all like “FINALLY, YOU’RE OUT, BYE FUCKER!” and that shit...” he sniggered, the audience laughing. “But in the end, unlike every other of my fellow FAs I know this is a business. And just cuz they think they’re buddy buddy with the cap or even did well doesn’t mean they don’t got a paw out the door once the contract ends. Pappa went through that phase when the Fusion kicked him out, no reimbursement from their current incarnation yet by the way, and I… got to think that I might be a target of that treatment, and I’m open to any scenario to happen and I’ll take the steps necessary towards success anywhere it takes me.”

“Any scenario, Bengtzing? You’re the best Center of your year! In the top ranks, General Managers would be brain dead to not fight for ya! Remember what you said it before?”

“Most players don’t even get to 10% in their lives of what I got in 2 years?” the polecat grinned.

“Exactly! A contract you sure gonna get, and a juicy one as well!”

“I’ll make sure of that, David!” Sterling laughed, the audience cheering on. “But overall, this is a business, I’m open for talks, and negotiations and I WILL want to talk to interested GMs to make my terms known, for the Bengtzing legacy to continue strong anywhere it takes it.”

“Anything you got to say to the General Managers out there? Look at them in the eye and speak up. Time to be forward!” the highland bull pointed Sterling to one of the lenses, focusing on his face.

The polecat looked at the camera, confident. “I hope you’ve been watching, paying attention and taking notes. How I play, who is my teammate type, what is the attitude I seek for... And be ready to risk it and follow my words step by step, for the payoff could be big. You might get the most culturally impacting player of modern times, passionate, knowledgeable, all-around smarts and could completely change your team for good. Heja Sverige!” he shot a fist in the air, making the audience cheer in agreement to his statement.

“And for closing… I heard you are not only the King of Basketball, but also of something very different. Do you sing?”

Sterling laughed, knowing where that was going. “Sorta? I mean I can hold a note and growl. And fucking look and sound metal while at it!”
“Well, here is your chance, Sterling!” Skavlan grinned, the lights of the stadium flashing, one of Sterling’s favorite songs airing. “Kill ‘em!” The polecat immediately got up, rousing the crowd on his peculiar way. “LET ME FUCKING HEAR YOU!”

You’re in for surprise, you’re in for a shock
In London town streets when there’s darkness and fog
I’m going down, all the way down
I’m on the highway to hell from here

Even Skavlan got excited and stood up, headbaging at the site. Sterling’s energy was infectious, and he felt extremely liberated and joyous at the show, the rush bringing the mustelid in such a high it was indescribable. But as Sterling got excited, he ignored what could have happened and stomped around the stage, rousing the crowd. The host had to admit, his rock voice was decent, the crowd being worked out. As the guitar solo of the sound hit, Sterling attempted to jump over the table so to headbang over it.

*CRACK*

The glass table quickly gave in under the polecat’s weight, the force of the shattering sending him to the ground on his tail, the audience gasping and shocked. But despite that Sterling couldn’t stop laughing, assuring he was okay, as the debris flew the opposite direction of his body. He could hardly finish the song in his fit of laughter, the audience cheering on with him, the host even helping him up and standing next to him.

Abandoned land come on in child take my hand
Hear a rising force
Watch the damned they’re gonna break their chains
Through the night you can hear them

He was sure to get an earful of his family and the sponsors, but he assured he was fine. In fact, he was better than ever before.

Later that night, Sterling and his cousin made their way out to a packed nightclub.

“You sure you fine? That was a wipeout!” Roland laughed.

“Shut up, Roland. It’s all good! Y’all too worried, there wasn’t any blood!” Sterling laughed. “You don’t get to where I am without breaking some shit!”

“Good thing ya wore the boots, else bye record...” Roland reminded him, sipping on a beer while looking out for any potential catches to get.

“I bought the things! I mean holy shit they sure are lucky, and not half bad for wearing.” the mustelid laughed. He felt a hand on his shoulder, a routine occurrence since he got in the country, he was about to greet the fan like any other, but the sight of this particular fur made her stop in her tracks.

“Is this seat taken?” a russet-furred otter asked, flicking her hair to the side.

There she was, Renate Lundhammar, the Miss Sweden who has been flirting with him over all these months, now in the flesh. “Roland, get some more rounds, ja? One or twenty, get wasted, whatever.” the polecat said to his cousin, slipping him some hefty banknotes as the otter sat down next to the athlete, engaging in conversation. To his shock, Renate followed a bit of his favorite bands, as well as being interested in Swedish history just as much as he was. “And this is when I went to New York to see Sabaton live, and I got the limited edition album.” Sterling grinned to the otter.

Renate gasped. “Get out! Do you also have the Swedish language version of Carolus Rex?” she excitedly asked.

“I bought it first instead of the English one!” he grinned, the otter smitten and laughing, just then her attention diverted to the miniature stage of the club.

“Oh my god, the karaoke just opened. Let’s go, Sterling!” Renate insisted, pulling the larger mustelid to the stage, telling the music manager to play “the same one from the show”, unknowingly of what Renate told him after the mustelid got away. Sterling got prepared for the initial chords of his song to play, but...

Hiya Barbie!
Hi Ken!
Do you want to go for a ride?

The mustelid was agape, facepalming, covering his laughter, he couldn’t believe he was set up, gesturing at the crowd. But Sterling only grinned, looking at the audience, specifically at the red-furred otter. “I need a Barbie! Will you be my Barbie?” he asked. Renate immediately stood up next to the polecat, himself putting an arm around the pageant contestant as they sang the bubblegum pop single, albeit with Sterling’s own metal viking twist, they finished to a healthy round of applause. “Not to shabby for an American...” she teased.

“Let’s go to my place, babe...” he whispered to Renate’s ear, taking a quick nibble at it, as he took a quick unannounced selfie. That night was gonna be like his hotel. Five Stars.

On a road in Sweden, travelling East

The car ride home was a long and awkward one, the atmosphere dour and somewhat tragic. The mother tried to break the awkward silence first. “Viking...I’m-”

“No need to say anything, mom...” The teenager interrupted, his tone serious with a twinge of anger and anxiety. “It is what it is, and I will deal with it whatever it takes.”

“It might be like Sven’s or your grandfather...” the older badger reminisced. “When they got their notice, it wasn’t long unt-”

“Dad stop. I will deal with this, just fine...” Viking stressed.

“The next date is on the 12th, we’ll know what is going on then and how to go from there.”

“The 12th?” the teenage badger asked.

“Yes Viking. Until then I’d say to relax and… forget about it. It’ll all be fine...” the father tried to stress, his tone of voice letting the badger know the little assurance of his words.

That got Viking thinking. “12th? So the 11th I could try… it may not work, but like hell I’m goin’ down without trying. I will be part of that record and meet up with Bengtzing...”