It is a dark day for the game. A field of tar is left littered with red merchandise covered in a layer of white snow. Burning flags of all colors, smashed aluminum cans covered in barbecue sauce, broken glass bottles, frozen cooked hot dogs and plastic tupperware with mac and cheese spilling out of it are scattered across the apocalyptic landscape freezing in the cold bitter night.

Looming in the distance is a great fortress, known for its loud noises and the intimidating synchronous chops of its people. Its name is Arrowhead. But the day that has just passed is not its proudest.

Within the entry gates of the fortress lays more debris from a battle that had recently occurred. The massive halls covered in waste of all forms.

Deep in Arrowhead, inside the team barracks, the Chiefs, the elite force who represent the people of Arrowhead, are lying in pain and are feeling rather deflated. Half are covered in ketchup and expired contracts. The rest are left with the burden of failure and the loss of their brothers.

Skip Bayless walks thru the locker room full of bodies, stepping over the defeated Chiefs. “Hear me and rejoice! You have had the privilege of being spared by the Greatest of All Time, Tom Brady. You may think this is suffering. No… it is salvation. The league wide ticket prices have tipped toward balance because of your sacrifice. Smile… for even in free agency, you have all become Patriots.”

In steps the man himself, flanked by his powerful allies, Rob Gronkowski, Rex Burkhead and members of his offensive line, the baddest mother fucker on the planet, Tom Brady triumphantly nods and smiles at the mess he has made of his latest enemy.

“I know what’s it’s like to lose. To feel desperately that you are the best but to fail all the same.” says Tom, the greatest quarterback in the history of time and space. The pliable legend kneels down to the prone Patrick Mahomes, the young leader of the Chiefs, who is agonizing over the loss of his team.

Tom pats Patrick on the back, encouraging the warrior’s efforts. “You fought valiantly boy. Only through great failure can you achieve great success. Being a 10th overall selection like yourself, I can understand how it’s hard to comprehend the value of moments like this one. I pity the expectations that were placed upon you. Let’s just say my experience as a young lad was not the same.”

A hooded figure enters the room, grunting and mumbling to himself as he observes the carnage, stepping on a Surface Pro that lays at his feet and kicks it to the side. He is wearing a headset under his babushka. He is escorted by his favorite linebacker, the dreaded Hightower.

Tom looks back toward the arriving dignitary and is reminded of his mission. “I am here for the stone.” says Tom, who rises to his feet and steps over the bodies of fallen chiefs, looking around for signs of it. “You know the one I speak of. It is time it is returned to its rightful owner.”

Damien Williams sits in a tense criss-cross applesauce position in the corner of the room, shaking in terror. The hooded figure gets a message on his headset as he clutches it against his ear. Bill clears his throat. It sounds like a pint of dry jello just passed thru his nasal passages. He then quickly grabs Hightower and gives him a gentle whisper, after which the strong veteran walks toward Darrel Williams, who screams in terror.

Hightower grabs Williams by the collar as Brady slowly approaches. “Where is it?” “I don’t know what you are talking about. We don’t have any stones.” Brady nods as Hightower pulls the collar of the rookie running back, choking him.

“I have it!” says a voice from across the room. It was the other Williams, Damien, who has now stood up. He takes a shiny blue stone out of his pocket and holds it for everyone to see. Brady looks at him suspiciously but then with a look of recognition. “Ah… Miami. I should have known. I lose a lot there.” says Tom, recalling the moment he last saw that particular keepsake.

Tom holds out his hand in-front of the young halfback and Damien Williams reluctantly hands him the supremely powerful relic, the Running Back In Space Stone. Tom opens up his wristband gauntlet and places the stone in it’s rightful spot, surging thrusts of power that penetrate the very soul of the 199th pick in the 2000 NFL draft. Rex Burkhead nods his head in approval, feeling the power rush back into his body as well. Tom gives him a gentle smile and a wink, finding pure glee in this moment they are sharing together.

—

Meanwhile, in the darkness covered city of angels, members of the Rams, the last hope to stop the Patriots and Tom Brady, meet in a luxurious mansion in the Hollywood Hills after watching the Chiefs lose to the Patriots on the official NFL App, clearly the best place to watch a football game.

The greatest heroes of Los Angeles sports; McVay, Goff, Wade, Talib and C.J. Anderson surround a long meeting table as they strategize. Sean McVay paces around the table, grabbing at his own hair like a cat would try to pull up a carpet. “How could they have let it come to this?” says McVay. Sitting calmly, Wade Phillips, the son of Bum, interjects with his wisdom. “You must first understand the Patriots before you can hope to compete against their squad. It has been 17 years of fighting for the survival of this league. The fate of the game is at stake.”

CJ Anderson, the most dedicated Ram, takes a sip of ice water as his eyes focus on the tension in the room. McVay looks at Wade with a glimmer of hope. “You’ve beat them before. How did you do it?” Wade shakes his head. “It was different then. That was before they obtained the Overtime Stone.” Confused, McVay approaches Wade with a befuddled look. “What’s an Overtime Stone?”

Wade sends a knowingly glance at Talib, the most experienced and composed player on the team. The sweat runs down McVay’s face as he panics into an outburst. “Damn it Wade! We need answers. Because this is our only chance to stop them. You have to tell me what you know!”

Wade sighs and takes a sip of his diet soda from his Fortnite collectors cup. CJ Anderson bites into a saltine as is disintegrates on his chin, making a big mess. “This goes back many decades.” Wade says. “It’s Bill. He’s… insane. He wants to destroy the game. It all started when he accidently broke the Lombardi Trophy his team had won in 1987, leading to his quest for absolute power.”

CJ Anderson grabs a fist full of Camembert cheese off the table and starts sucking it into his mouth, slowly. “The Lombardi Trophy cracked open to reveal a stone possessing ancient power. The Defensive Mind Stone. He has never been the same since.” says Wade.

“He soon had a clear mission. He was cracking open the lombardi trophies to reveal stones that control fundamental aspects of football. This very franchise allowed them to obtain the Kicking Power Stone after Superbowl 36, which helped establish their dynasty. Two years later they obtained Running Back in Space Stone, which helped them dominate further. The year after that they obtained the Frugality Stone, which helped them secure the efficiency of their dynasty.”

The mound of cheese in CJ Anderson’s palm has been reduced to a soggy puddle as he slurps it up, momentarily distracting Wade from the story he is telling. “Despite the power they obtained, we thought to have stopped them. But the dark lord is relentless. Bill, who is already a mastermind, utilized the power he obtained to eventually secure the Mole Stone, which has given him the power to insert sleeper agents into enemy teams and finally, the Overtime Stone, which they used to decimate the Chiefs after their seemingly glorious comeback tonight.”

Talib, who isn’t all that concerned about this challenge, shakes his head and finally speaks up. “Bill isn’t scary. When you see how that organization is run, it ain’t no mystery no more. It’s just another team. Another team we will beat. Bill ain’t no dark lord.”

Goff shakes his head. “We have to be prepared for anything in all three phases. I will spend as many hours in the film room as possible preparing for this team.” Wade shakes his head, realizing his team isn’t listening to his warnings. CJ Anderson is now drinking the Ranch dip from the center of the veggie platter, slowly pouring it down his gullet.

Sean McVay, knowing the odds are stacked against them, looks to Wade for advice. “Is there anyone that can help us stop them? A great defensive strategist that can stop Brady?” Wade gets up and turns away from everyone, muttering to himself. “Probably Rex Ryan…”

“Call him.” Wade shakes his head. “Meh… no… I just… He kinda…” A door bursts open as in walks Rex Ryan and his brother Rob Ryan.

“Wade… this game can’t be allowed to happen. In order to stop the Patriots from ruining forever… we must stop Superbowl 53. It’s the only way to be sure.” Wade is skeptical and overcome with internal conflict. “I’m not willing to sacrifice our opportunity. We must win the game.”

“How selfish can you be Wade? Belichick and Brady seek to destroy our sport. The one we love. Sacrifices have to be made.” Rex says. Wade shakes his head. “If we stop the Superbowl, the sport is already ruined. It must happen but we must win.”

Rob shakes his head as Rex, irate, turns beat read. “Un-Fucking-Believable. You selfish ass! You bum! I am going to put together my own team. An elite team. And we are going to stop them. Whether you like it or not!” Rex and Rob storm out of the room.

[to be continued…]