"F-Foul?"
The referee finally shook his head, waving play on through the stunned silence of the Emirates.
Oleksandr Zinchenko felt his ankles turn to jelly from the elastic touch that had just sent him into the shadow realm.
'Damn, has he always moved that fast?'
He stared at the back of Rio's shirt, which was already five yards away. It was as if the winger had a physics engine of his own.
Only after a few seconds was Zinchenko able to collect himself and scramble to his feet. Although he was shocked in his mind, he outwardly tried to sprint back to help.
He had faced hundreds if not over a thousand wingers in the Premier League, yet none of them had bypassed him with such arrogant ease. It was like he was a completely different player from the one on the bench an hour ago.
"Cover him!" He called out, desperation in his voice.
