American Football: Domination

The defending champions—Kansas City, the team every franchise studied and targeted. They had led the AFC all season with relentless strength.

On the internet, critics mocked them for losing to the Patriots and Rams, saying they weren't tough enough in clutch moments. But in the league? Nobody dismissed them. Their three losses came by razor-thin margins, proof of strength, not weakness.

Naturally, Reich had studied them closely, especially the newly sharpened offense powered by Lance and Mahomes.

He knew the Colts' weak defensive line couldn't create real havoc. He also knew Mahomes' tendency to force throws forward hadn't been erased yet. That might be his opening.

So Reich laid his trap.

Luck struck first—opening with a dazzling fifty-yard bomb, reminding everyone why his arm was once considered divine. The memory of his rookie debut, that very first pass that stunned the league, echoed again.

Mahomes, young and fiery, wouldn't let that stand. If he saw even the hint of an opening, he'd take it. In his first playoff start, matched against Luck, he wouldn't back down. No, he'd prove his talent head-to-head.

To Reich, this wasn't bravery. It was youth.

So he welcomed them in, step by step. From the Colts' first offensive series to their opening defensive alignment, the net was cast. Before the game even began, Indianapolis had set the stage for victory.

On the field, the Colts didn't blitz. They didn't press. They dropped into zone—covering every blade of grass with a lattice of defenders.

The Chiefs spread out, five targets in a shotgun set. Lance was the fifth man, wide and ready.

But the Colts were calm, structured. Three linebackers, two corners, two safeties—the formation spread like a honeycomb across the field, every corner sealed.

Then they drifted back.

They weren't chasing. They were preparing. Mahomes, they guessed, would go long. So they pulled the defense deeper, step by step, to choke off the bomb before it left his hand.

And when the play unfolded, Reich watched, proud but focused.

Mahomes backpedaled, head high, scanning. His form screamed "deep shot."

But then—release.

Not a rainbow. Not a lofted arc.

A bullet.

Fifteen yards, straight, drilled into Lance's chest.

Caught. First down.

Shaquille Leonard barely had time to register the mistake. He'd dropped too far. He lunged back, teeth gritted, abandoning Kelce to chase Lance.

But Lance didn't sidestep. He met him.

Two bodies, colliding like meteors.

Leonard's chest seized as momentum shattered his balance. His body lifted off the turf, airborne, tumbling.

On the sideline, Jenna nudged Annie with a grin. "Look, honey—a bull just took flight."

But Lance staggered too. Leonard was a 230-pound storm, the "Maniac." Meeting him head-on was like clashing with a freight train. Lance's feet wobbled, balance slipping.

Danger—real danger.