Seattle had never experienced an event like the Legion of Boom. They sprang from nowhere and did so fully formed.
Humans need gestation, development, trial, error, and learning; not the Legion. They were an act of mighty pissed off gods of the Old World, and they are not known to play by the rules. The men that comprised them were created for a purpose both mighty and terrible, and they played honor to that design with every furious snap, hit, and roar.
They strode their world as menacing collosi; an ecosystem marked by order and the known was thrown into chaos as they redefined what was and was not possible on the football field. The game’s boundaries, the very written word of what was and was not possible, bowed and buckled under the strain of their divinely-gifted powers.
The Legion burned with the fire of another dimension, one that wasn’t meant to commingle with our rotten air, soil, and souls. They burned hotter than we or they could endure and so, in a flash, they were gone.
The gods that designed them foresaw all this. They anticipated their great creation would wither and rot in the foul realm of mortality, and so they left a reminder; a cache. They left a mighty beacon; a single mark that looms over us all.
In the full flower of his might and splendor, we stand witness to the gods’ greatness then, now, and always. Our duty is naught but to behold, and to scream, and above all…
Bobby Wagner forever.