DENVER – Aqib Talib’s comeback is amazing, even though it never will serve as a bedtime tale for children.

In the early hours of June 5, Talib was racing in a 2016 Rolls Royce to Medical City Hospital in his hometown of Dallas. An unknown assailant had shot Talib in his right thigh with the bullet making a clean exit through his calf.

The scene was bloody and dire, but a revival was on the horizon.

In the dying sunlight hours of Sunday evening, a mere 95 days since the gunshot, Talib was sprinting toward the sideline at Mile High.

He danced away from Colts tight end Jack Doyle, showing surprising nimbleness for a man still healing from a gunshot wound. He inspired tens of thousands of fans watching in the stadium and several million gazing at their TVs to leap with joy.

He was on his way to the end zone, enjoying the applause.

And even more might be just around the bend. For the Broncos, and their lead villain.

“I’m still trying to get in game shape, man,” Talib said a few minutes later.

The Broncos’ 34-20 win over the Colts serves as a siren call to the rest of the NFL. The 2016 edition of the Broncos’ defense is as violent, vengeful and frightening as 2015.

Colts quarterback Andrew Luck is blessed with mind-boggling skills. He’s big. He’s tough. He’s throws with extreme accuracy. He’s on his way to the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

Luck resembled Tim Tebow for most of Sunday’s game. At one point, he had completed 10 of 26 passes for 95 yards. He looked lost and confused. And, remember, this is Andrew Luck we’re talking about.

Cornerback Chris Harris was talking loud in a jubilant Bronco locker room.

“That’s the formula that won the Super Bowl,” Harris said of a defense that hits with wicked abandon. “We ain’t going to change it.”

Von Miller reigns as the emperor of this Broncos defense, and Harris is generally considered the roster’s second-best player.

But a case can be made for Talib as the worthy runner-up, although this case seldom is pushed.

Why?

That’s easy. Talib pushes the boundaries of acceptable behavior, on and off the field. Ten months ago, he poked the eye of Colts tight end Dwayne Allen. In February, he attempted to rip off Corey Brown’s head during the Super Bowl and bragged about his foul play.

There’s more. Talib has been accused of assaulting a taxi driver and resisting arrest and firing a gunshot over a man’s head. On June 5, the day before the Broncos visited the White House, someone shot Talib in the leg. That someone might have been Talib.

A few hours before Sunday’s game, I was walking outside Mile High, surrounded by the Bronco faithful. Fans wore Shannon Sharpe’s 84 and Steve Atwater’s 27 and Peyton Manning’s 18 and Floyd Little’s 44 and John Elway’s 7 and Miller’s 58.

Nobody was wearing Talib’s 21. Even his own do not embrace him.

Still, let’s face the harsh truth about Talib: He personifies, more than anyone, these Broncos.

This is a strange, happy time for pro football on the Front Range. I grew up a few miles from Mile High, listening to tales of those mangy Raiders from Oakland. They plundered along as the barbarians of the NFL, and the status seemed eternal.

The Broncos rampage as the barbarians of 2016. They delivered frequent shots to the head of Cam Newton on Sept. 8, and Darian Stewart kept up the tradition Sunday with a late, flagrant elbow to Luck’s skull.

Much of the football nation shouts with outrage over the Broncos’ highly disturbing antics, which double as highly effective.

This uproar does nothing to unsettle the serenity of Talib, who understands and embraces the essence of football.

“They call it dirty,” Talib said, “but we just call it Bronco football.”

Both calls are correct.