Marcus Thorne, the legendary striker, was a shadow, a ghost that had attached itself to the soul of Apex United's creative engine.
For the first fifteen minutes, Emre Demir was a non-entity, a ghost being haunted by a legend.
Apex's attacks were disjointed, their rhythm gone.
They would build up play, look for their brilliant number ten, and find him being calmly, expertly, and completely suffocated by one of the smartest players on the planet.
"I can't get him the ball!" Kenny McLean yelled, after another one of his passes towards Emre was effortlessly intercepted by Thorne. "He's everywhere!"
"And this is a tactical masterclass from the Derby dugout!" Gary 'The Gaffer' Stone was crowing on the live stream commentary. "It's old-school, it's brilliant! You take out the opposition's best player, and the whole team crumbles! The Apex kids have no answer!"
Ethan stood on the sideline, his mind racing, a knot of pure, unadulterated panic tightening in his stomach.
