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77 Days After Landing — Outside Camp Jaha
Grey had been so excited when he saw the tough mesh of a dark blue jersey in the pile of clothes. He hadn't exactly body-checked the Trikru Maker out of the way, but he had yanked it out from the pile rather quickly, holding up the blue and orange wonder to examine it. Sure, it had splashes of bilious yellow on it from where someone used it as a paint-shirt, but it was a football jersey. And it was a Broncos jersey, the team of Peyton Manning, one of the top QBs ever, and the badass running back Aden Martinez. Grey had checked the number, frowned thoughtfully, trying to track down… who was #15… Brandon Marshall? Looking to the nameplate between the shoulders, he saw…
Tebow
Tim Goddamned Tebow. There are some names that stand out in the historical record not for their epic skill, but for their monstrous expectations and then their epic flameouts. JaMarcus Russell. Ryan Leaf. The Boz. Mick Sweeney. Tim Goddamned Tebow. Grey had almost thrown down the jersey then and there, but he knew he'd see someone else wearing it later on if he did. And that would not stand. It was an offense to football. There was only one thing to do.
Now Grey stands down by the shore of Lake Arkadia, the hated jersey balled up in his left hand, a fire dancing in the breeze before him. Shaking out the jersey between both hands, he eyes the despised name. "Not just a wussy-ass quarterback, but a crappy quarterback who couldn't swallow his damn pride and learn to play tight end. Screw you, Tim Tebow. You got no place in the new world."
And then the Guardsman tosses the jersey over the fire, letting it spread out over the flames. They flutter down for a moment, and Grey wonders if Tebow's suck is too much to even burn… and then the ancient material begins to catch fire here and there, and Grey smiles. Before long, the jersey is ablaze, and Grey squats down to scoop up his other haul from inside Mount Weather, an honest-to-god football. He holds it out in one hand, grinning at the brilliant white of the laces between his fingers. "Be pleased with this sacrifice and let football reign supreme." And then he has to laugh, tucking the ball in close at his side and shaking his head. Yeah… sacrifices and football gods. A good joke, but nothing else. Still, damned if he was going to let Tim Tebow be the only jersey left in the world.