Michael's heart just… stopped.
He watched, as if in slow motion, as Sam Jones, his "OP Keeper," flew through the air, his glove just… inches… away.
He wasn't going to make it.
The shot from De Bruyne was just too perfect.
TING!
The ball smashed off the inside of the post, a sound that broke 45,000 red-and-white hearts, and rippled the back of the net.
Goal. 1-1.
The 45,000 Man City fans, who had been stunned into silence, erupted.
The sound was a deafening, arrogant, "we-were-just-playing-with-you" roar.
De Bruyne didn't even celebrate. He just… turned, and started jogging back to the center, his face a mask of cold, terrifying, professionalism.
"GOOOOOOOAL! IT WAS INEVITABLE!" the commentator shrieked, his voice almost relieved. "DE BRUYNE! A GOAL OF PURE, COLD, WORLD-CLASS GENIUS! And just like that, Wembley is blue! 1-1! The dream… is over. The 'Horror Movie'… has begun."
The Man City players, who had been angry before, were now just… cold.
Bop. Bop. Bop.
