January 9, 2018
Scarborough, Ontario, Canada

“So, what’s going on…?” Kale warily takes a seat at the large conference table.

The inside of the CHL basement is clean with white-coloured walls and a cool ambience. In the middle of the small room is a long, black conference table with swivel chairs circling it. Sitting on one end is Kale Clague, who is wearing his team’s, the Wheat Kings, hoodie and cap along with jeans. On the other end is Ed Chynoweth, the founder of the Canadian Hockey League. He has a holographic appearance with a soft cyan glow.

Ed clasps his hands together on top of the table with a warm smile. “A change must be done to you. A significant one, if I may add.”

Kale shifts in his chair with bewilderment. “Uh, how significant?”

The founder peers up, rummaging his mind for the perfect explanation. He peers back at the teenager. “A trade-significant.”

Kale furrows his eyebrows. “A trade…” He pauses as surprise pops on his face. “Wait. A trade? I’m gonna be traded?” His jaw drops as his eyes widen. “What?!”

Ed nods his head with pursed lips and closed eyes. “That’s right.” He halts his movements and peers at him. “Your time with the Wheat Kings has ended.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa—” Kale hastily waves his hands in front of him, his eyes now as large as pucks. “It can’t end!” He drops his hands, still in a frenzy. “I’ve been on that team since rookie season! I’ve got less than a season left until I’m done with juniors!” He throws his hands out from his sides. “I can’t be traded now!”

“I understand,” Ed cuts in, “but it is going to be initiated.”

With a dejected expression coming across his face, Kale drops his hands with sadden eyes. “So, I’m no longer Brandon?” He lifts his eyes up at him. “I’m leaving?”

He nods his head.

Kale peers to a side as he attempts to mentally grasp his new situation. Another aspect comes into his mind, causing him to peer back at the founder. “What’s gonna become of my powers?”

Ed rotates his interlaced fingers for them to point toward him. “That’s what needs to be dealt with. Because you cannot have the Wheat Kings powers anymore.”

“Oh…” Kale scratches the back of his neck with an unsure expression. “Well, can I get the powers of whichever team I’m going to—” He halts his question as another realization pops into mind. His eyes widen; he drops his hand against the table. “Hold up, which team am I GOING to?”

A small smile forms on the founder’s face. “Moose Jaw.”

Kale’s eyes light up. “With Brett?” Excitement comes across his face. “Oh! This-this doesn’t seem too bad after all.” With a sheepish chuckle, he runs his fingers through his voluminous hair. “At least there’s a friend and a power buddy on that team…” His smile fades away and his hand is lowered as another thought occurs in mind.

He peers up at the founder with trepidation. “Wait, I can’t have powers if Brett’s the power player.”

Ed nods while leaning back against his swivel chair. “You are correct on that.”

“But-but—” Kale slams his hands on his chest in fright. “—I want my powers! My powers can’t be taken away from me just like that! So I’m gonna be powerless now?!”

Ed drops his expression, showing genuine despondent. “I’m afraid so.”

The colour of Kale’s face drains as the horrid reality weighs on him. His powers, the powers he struggled to find the potential of, the powers he managed to battle efficiently with, the powers that he used to save his friends, fight along his friends, merge with his friend…are now going to be...gone?

Kale lifts his large eyes up at the founder. “Would I still be able to at least merge?”

Ed silently shakes his head. “Only power players can merge with each other. A non-power player and power player cannot.”

Kale dips his head and hugs himself as a way to bring some comfort in the pressuring atmosphere. “Oh geez...”

“I’m so sorry.”

Kale peeks up at him, appearing like a small child in front of a dangerous man. “Can you stop it? Stop the trade?”

He shakes his head some more. “I cannot intercede with modern trades. Those outside of the supernatural universe cannot know that I or the supernatural universe itself exists.”

With a shaky breath, Kale slowly peers down as he brings his hand into his view. He extends it, materializing an innocent, light wheat stalk to lie across his palm. He then closes his fingers over it one-by-one, feeling its familiar, comforting, smooth touch for just one last time.

“Are you ready to remove your powers?” he hears Ed asking him gently.

Kale sits still, focusing on the different textures of the wheat sliding underneath the pads of his fingers as it is being manipulated. His mind is flying through all the memories and sensations he has experienced with his powers from saving Nolan Patrick in his rookie year to defeating Carter Hart before the season began.

And now he can never do that again. His powers will be gone.

“Are you ready to remove your powers?”

“Are you?”

“No,” Kale whispers.

Ed raises his eyebrows with a “hm?” “What was that?”

Kale feels the wheat dissolving into fizzy sensations as he brings it out of sight. He gazes at Ed with a scowl. “I can’t.”

With that, he stands up, whirls around, and stalks away from the conference table with his head down.

With shock at his actions, Ed stands up from his chair and follows him floundering out of his room with his eyes. “Clague? Clague!”

Now at the other side of the room, where the only door is located, Kale snatches the silver doorknob to open it and swings the white door open.

“Clague, before you go!” Ed barks.

Kale halts in his mad trail at the sound of Ed’s harsh statement. He stands in the doorway with his hand plastered on the door to keep it from closing on him.

“You must come to me before the trade is announced,” Ed tells him softly, yet sternly. “If not, I’ll have to bring you here by force.”

Kale stands still with his back facing the founder. His mind is clouded by the horrid, frustrating situation and all the possibilities it result in. With a grunt, he continues his storming through the door, exiting the room.

The door closes behind him with a SLAM!, reflecting his anger.

---

Brandon, Manitoba, Canada

Later that night, Kale is sitting on the edge of his bed in his dim bedroom.

He is now the only one at his house, since his two teammates and roommates, Nolan Patrick and Reid Duke left for major and minor leagues, respectively. Even though the trade will be announced the following day and the Moose Jaw Warriors have a game that same day, his suitcase hasn’t even been removed from the closet.

Kale glowers at the wall, his hands holding up his face with his elbows pressed against his thighs. His mind is churning in the thoughts about all that is going to happen to him is unjust and upsetting.

With a huff, he straightens up and pulls out his smartphone from his jeans’ pockets. He turns it on and after a few presses on the screen, he puts it up to his ear.

“Hey, Kale, how’s it going?” Nolan Patrick is heard chirping from the other line.

That’s the exact question he needed. Although people usually answer it automatically with “good,” as if it has one and only one answer, it is a question that is actually for any response, good or bad.

“My powers are gonna be taken away,” Kale grumbles, turning his glare back to the wall as he senses his ire bubbling within him.

He then stays still, including his internal anger rising, as he hears mumbling coming from the other end.

Then Nolan’s soft, smoky voice comes back: “Wait, can you repeat that? Carts here’s being too loud.”

“Sorry!” Carter Hart is heard bellowing in the background.

With that, his rage is snapped, causing Kale to yell: “My powers are gonna be TAKEN AWAY!” He flies up to his feet, frenzy written all over his face. “Ed invited me to his place—” He began pacing around his room. “—I went over, and he slammed me with some stupid trade I’m gonna go into and since the Warriors have Brett as their power player and no team can have two power players, I’m the one who’s gonna have his powers taken! I’m gonna be powerless, Pat, no more powers for me!”

He stands in the middle of his dim room in front of his bed’s end. He breathes heavily, awaiting a response. Instead, there is another mumbled pause from the other side.

“Powerless?” Nolan finally speaks up. “You’re gonna have no more powers?”

Frustration from the stupid question tangles inside of him. “That’s EXACTLY what I just told you.”

“Well, sor-ry, I can barely understand you when you’re rambling on like that—”

“I was telling you what was going on! Can’t you follow a story?!”

“Not when you’re talking as fast as an Indy 500 race car—”

“But I told you what happened—”

“But I couldn’t understand, goodness gracious, Kale, chill!”

Kale instantly quiets at Nolan’s outcry. Silence swoops over the whole room, calming down the atmosphere. Kale’s face slightly softens as he senses the tensity rising.

“Let me get this straight, I just don’t want any rumours to get started here,” Nolan softly starts off from the other end: “You’re gonna be traded to the Warriors. Brett is the power player of the Warriors. No team can have two power players. Therefore your powers are going to be taken away. Right?”

Kale defeatedly plops himself back on the bed as a pang of hurt flies through him. “Yeah.”

There is silence on the other end for a moment. “That’s too bad you’re no longer on the Wheat Kings,” Nolan eventually comments.

“Yeah.” Kale peers down, finding his free hand playing with a loose piece of thread from his blanket.

“And sorry that you’re no longer a power player—”

“I’m gonna see if I can get away with it,” Kale cuts in seriously, peering ahead and halting his motions. “I’ve had these powers all of my life— I don’t want them ripped away from me, I can’t live like that. I’m not going to Ed’s tomorrow.”

“Well, I don’t know much about Ed since I’m not under the power player system of the CHL, but I hope you can keep your powers.”

“Same here.” Kale resumes picking at his blanket’s loose thread. “He said I have to be there tomorrow or else he’d bring me there by force, but I’m not going.” He rolls his eyes with a scoff. “I refuse to turn in my powers like that.”

“Is there a way for you to get Brett’s powers and Brett becomes the non-power player?”

Kale stops his mindless action and shrugs. “I dunno. Most likely with all these trades that have been going on in the past decades.” He leans over with a sigh. “But it didn’t seem like Ed was changing his mind with whatever I asked him. I really don’t want to pull anyone else into this or have anyone else lose their powers. I don’t wanna lose my powers either.”

“Well, I can’t help you here. I’m in Philly trying to get a third goal for goodness sakes!” Nolan lets out a groan. “It’s frustrating.”

“It is.”

“We all have our fair share of problems, eh?”

“Yup.”

There is another pause.

“So, you’re good now?” Nolan gingerly asks.

Kale narrows his eyes at his poorly-chosen question. “I’ll be good when I keep my powers.”

Nolan sighs from the other end. “Well, you’re in for a long, depressing life in that case.”

“I need to escape from this,” Kale mutters as he straightens his posture.

“Hold up,” Nolan pipes up. “It says nothing about you being traded—”

“I know, that’s because it’s gonna be announced tomorrow,” he cuts in. “My powers have to be removed by then. Ed had to give me a heads up.”

“Oh...I see…” Nolan’s voice gets thicker with pride: “I got the early scoop on the WHL trades…!”

“Yeah, you did,” he flatly replies.

“Well, if you need me, give me a ring.”

Kale stares hard ahead, his jaw clenched. “Okay. Bye.” He then lowers his phone and presses its screen, ending the call.

He sets his phone by his side and stares ahead in the grainy darkness of his room. To salvage his powers, he has to defy what the one in control of them has planned.

He has to escape from his fate.

---

Jan 10, 2018
Buffalo, New York, United States

The only way to escape from such a big situation is not by just supernaturally flying out of the city or province, but out of the country to a place where great memories were made.

Kale stands outside of the KeyBank Center in the brisk weather, gazing up at the marvellous arena. His hands are in his trench coat pockets with a beanie over his head, a scarf around his neck, and boots to protect himself from the sharp winds. He stares at the grand arena while being absorbed in the memories of winning his last World Junior Championship and being drafted to the Los Angeles Kings almost two years ago.

He lets out a happy sigh, then continues down the frosty sidewalk.

Throughout the day, he moseys around the city, spotting the familiar sights and places when he visited Buffalo on those two occasions. He grabs a bite to eat, a cup of hot chocolate, and continues through the winter wonderland as the sun sets.

Once night sets in, soft snow begins to drift from the inky skies, covering the ground in dim whiteness little by little. The trees in a nearby park light up with white holiday lights, casting a magical glow on the frosty tree branches, fluttering snow, and pathways down below. Those lights, including the lampposts lining the pathway of the park, illuminates Kale’s path as he makes his way down the wintery scenery.

He settles down on a wooden bench with his hot chocolate. He gazes around his twinkling surroundings, noticing that he is all alone in the winter night. The air is sharp on his face as the bits of snow land on him and his clothes, making them damp; with each exhale he lets out, clouds puff out from his mouth.

Kale sits in the silence of the snowy winter night with his hot chocolate warming his hands. A smile is on his face as he is mesmerized by the snow capturing the moonlight and drifting into the darkness of the night’s shadows. He sips on his cup, feeling the warm, smooth liquid heating him up inside out.

Suddenly, he senses a sharp pain whizz up his neck. A gasp is caught in his throat as his eyes fly open at the sudden pain. He holds his frozen, shocked position, anticipating for the stinging pain to fade intensify. Instead, the pain dwindles within a few seconds, only to be replaced by a gradual overcoming of fatigue.

Kale feels his body becoming relaxed, having gravity add pounds over pounds on him. His mind clouds up in a pouring of tiredness as his thoughts become fuzzy and incomprehensible; his head grows heavier, his eyes flutter, the cup in his hand leans toward the ground in his loosening grip. Then, his eyes shut closed as his mind loses grasp of his surroundings outside and within, turning everything into blackness.

---

Scarborough, Ontario, Canada

Kale’s eyes snap wide open. His mind is flooded by all of the last seconds in the wintery park right before everything around him turned black. Panic immediately arises in him as he senses he is definitely not in the park: The room he is in is a familiar white, the air is quite brisk, chilling his skin with his back against a cold, smooth surface; there is nothing else in his sight.

At the uncomfortable feeling of the exposed coldness, Kale peers down at himself, where he feels cold the most. The reason of the freezing sensation is clear: His winter layers have been removed, now exposing his bare torso. Yet plastered symmetrically on his chest, arms, hands, and torso on each side are black wires. Keeping him in place against the tilted slate are black, snugged straps across his chest, hips, wrists, legs, and ankles.

Kale’s heart instantly pounds loudly at the intimidating sight of the wires. His fear-filled eyes follow the course of the wires, making him crane his head to see them turn behind him.

The wires connect to a pedestal with a glass case. Inside the glass case is the marvellous trophy of the CHL: the Memorial Cup.

His eyes lock in awe at the wonderful sight of the trophy. What a wonderful trophy he won with his beloved team back in 2016. What can only top it is by winning it again. Or winning the Stanley Cup.

“Clague!” Ed is heard booming from in front of him.

With shock, Kale whirls his head toward his direction. He spots the founder standing in front of him with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Glad you can join us!” Ed gives him a small smile, like as if Kale voluntarily strapped himself to the trophy.

A pang of upset rips through Kale as worry comes across his face. “Wait, what? I didn’t come here—! I don’t want to—!” He begins writhing in his restraints, attempting to free himself from them.

“Bean,” Ed states, keeping his eyes on the struggling hostage.

Kale continues his strive to escape, pushing and twisting himself against the rough straps around him.

Suddenly, a gun’s muzzle is then lowered into Kale’s sight, right between his eyes.

With shock, he immediately halts in his movements with wary eyes on the muzzle. He slowly follows his eyes at the base of the gun and up its owner’s arm, landing his sight on the holder of the gun.

His eyes fly open at the awfully familiar face.

“Beaner?” Kale breathes out.

Standing in front of him with his gun aimed steadily at him is Jake Bean, the power player of Calgary Hitmen and Kale’s teammate of Team Canada. Instead of his usually smiley expression, he bears an unbreakable stern expression. His attire reflects his mien: completely black, including the limbs.

“Don’t move.” Jake then backs away smoothly, like a well-trained shoulder.

After staring at his teammate with horrific bewilderment, Kale turns to Ed. “Please, don’t do this.”

Ed drops his smile to a serious expression. “We have to.”

“But what will happen if there’re two power players on one team?” He makes a worried look. “What’s so bad about that?”

“The power player system will be utterly messed up,” Ed explains loudly. “A team power player HAS to be with his power’s team. Why would he have the powers of one team if he’s in another?” He shakes his head. “It makes no sense."

The founder holds his hand up, as if he is holding something on his palm, and looks at it. “It’s like you playing with a Wheat Kings jersey when you’re in the Warriors: You’re not representing your team, you’re representing your rival. You’re done with the Wheat Kings, you must now move on.” He drops his hand and turns to him. “This is a new chapter in your life.”

“What if I’m not ready to move on?” Kale cries out, heaving himself against the restraints. “What if I don’t WANT to move on?”

“Then you’ll have one miserable life.” Ed then slips out of Kale’s sight as he makes his way to the Memorial Cup.

Kale cranes his head to get a good view of his holographic back as his anger fuels him. “I’m gonna have a miserable life because of what I was bestowed with!” he spits out. “I didn’t even want these powers in the first place!” He shakes his balled hands in his restraints at each statement: “I didn’t ask for them, I was born with them! I hated them, but since they weren’t going away anytime soon and I was forced to use them in the society, I began to know them and use them better! And now that I like them and am attached to them, they’re gonna be taken away from me? This isn’t fair, Ed! You know this isn’t fair!”

Ed turns to the tempered hostage with a collected expression. He has his hand outstretched and hovered over the glass case. “Life has a professional hockey player is never fair, Clague.”

He then places his hand on the glass case.

Kale’s body instantly lurches up as a brilliant yellow energy flies in and out of him, creating a sharp twisting sensation throughout his body. “AAAHHHH!!!"

---

The streets of downtown Scarborough are still and silent. The lamp posts eerily light the frosty sidewalk with stale snow piled on both sides. A pair of black boots shakily shuffles against the icy concrete surface, one step at a time. Wearing the boots is Kale, who is back in his winter clothes. But his content expression he had back in Buffalo is gone.

His eyes are wide and lost with trauma, his eyebrows slanted upward, and his mouth slightly parted, letting out puffs of warm clouds. His clothed arms are wrapped around himself in a hug as he makes robotic moves with his legs down the empty pathway.

He sniffs and blinks rapidly as he feels tears building up in his eyes. He senses the uncomfortable, fizzy sensation of his removed powers lingering within his body. Yet what is agonizing the most is the big rip in his heart, the emptiness left inside of him, and blankness in his mind of having an aspect of his life stolen.

The hushed, bitter night reflects all that is inside of him: cold, empty, listless, nothing.

“Claguer!”

Huffing is heard approaching Kale from behind, yet he doesn’t stop his steady treading.

Jake appears next to him and aligns with him. His usual, friendly expression is now back on his face, despite the fact he is still in his Hitmen attire.

“Hey,” he huffs out to the defenceman, walking alongside him. “I’m sorry for what had to go down there.”

Kale continues his shuffling in silence.

“Um—” Jake rubs the back of his neck. “—I’ll take you to Moose Jaw.”

Kale doesn’t stop moving.

Jake slides in front of him, forcing him to stop. He peers into his large, watering eyes, spotting the shadows of his eyes more evident with dark circles.

“I got your stuff already,” he tells him gently. “I’ll take you to your place in Moose Jaw.” He then slips back next to him and slings his arm over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

---

Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, Canada

An apartment in the sleepy city is lively and bright with electronic music and sound effects bursting out from it.

On a television screen, a pixelated, sleek jet is soaring through obstacles of lasers, tunnels, and meteors, shooting out its own lasers and flipping vertically to avoid crashing. Little explosions appear around the screen with vibrant numbers and symbols popping up, adding to the cacophony.

“Come on! Come on! You can do it, all most there— Hit it!”

The jet releases two laser beams at the same time straight at a large, golden meteor. Right on contact, the meteor explodes into billows of smoke and debris.

“YEAH!” Brett Howden leans back against his sofa in victory, heaving the controller of the video game over his head. “WOO!” He slams his controller against the ground. “THAT’S HOW YOU PLAY IT!” He then pauses as realization comes across his face.

He peers down.

Between his sock-covered feet is the controller in multiple pieces.

“Aw man.” Brett leans over and scoops up the bits of his controller. He tosses them into the trash bin next to the sofa, adding to his collection of his ill-fated controllers.

Knock, knock.

Brett’s thick eyebrows perk up as he straightens himself. “Oh, that must be Claguer!”

He rises to his feet, smooths his wrinkled white T-shirt and boxers, picks up his hairbrush from the coffee table and runs it through his perfect wavy dirty blond hair, places it back in its place, then ambles down to the corridor to his right.

He makes a left into the dim foyer, facing the front door. He twists the doorknob and pulls it open, letting the light of the apartment building hallway flood into the foyer.

Brett’s green eyes light up at the sight: Standing on the other side of the doorway is Kale, his new roommate and teammate. Yet his eyes are cast aside with a scowl on his face.

“Claguer!” Brett then peers to his left, spotting Jake standing next to him dutifully. “Beaner!”

Jake places a hand on Kale’s shoulder. “Here’s your new teammate and roommate.”

A grin pops onto Brett’s face. “Come on in!” He slides to a side, his back against the door, to let Kale through.

Kale lifts his sullen eyes at Jake. Jake silently nods to the doorway. Kale then dips his head down and hobbles in.

Brett follows Kale with his eyes, spotting him making his way down the dim foyer with his luggage dragging behind him. The defenceman then disappears around the bend of the corridor.

“Brett.”

At the sound of his name, Brett turns around.

Jake is gazing at him without any emotion. “Keep an eye on him. He’s not a happy camper.”

Brett gives him a thumbs up and a click of his tongue. “Gotcha. ‘Night, Beaner.” He then slips deeper into the foyer and gently closes the door on him.

Brett whirls around and bounds through the corridor and into opening of the largest room in the apartment. He spots Kale, who is standing next to the kitchen, staring out into the small, unkempt living room.

He strolls up to the new roommate and halts next to him. “Well, this is my place!” He wraps his arm around his shoulder. “And now OURS.” He winks at him. “Like what they say in Mexico, ‘mi casa es tu casa.’”

He then lets go of him to direct his hand to the left wall, where the doorway of an empty, dark bedroom is located. “And there’s your bedroom!”

He then drops his hand and gazes at him. “So you wanna play some games with me and order pizza?”

Kale simply trudges toward the bedroom.

“Claguer!” Brett cranes his head to watch him be engulfed in the room’s darkness. “Aw come on, Claguer!” He holds his hands out from his sides. “I wanna play with ya!”

Kale responds by closing the door on him.

“Claguer, no!” Brett storms up to him and barks into the door: “You’re being a real party pooper!”

Silence responds to him.

With furrowed eyebrows, Brett huffs and stalks into the living room. He plops himself back on the sofa then peers at the coffee table in front of him to reach for the controller.

Yet there is no controller on the coffee table.

Brett cranes his head back at the remembrance of his misfortunate controller. “Ugh!”

Bzzt, bzzt!

Brett’s eyes perk with alertness at the vibration of his phone. He swipes it off from the coffee table and peers at it.

Staring back at him through the bright screen is a notification for his first Warriors game since the World Juniors.

Brett gasps. “That’s right!” He drops his phone back on the table, flies to his feet, marches to the side of the sofa, and turns to face the closed bedroom door. “Claguer! Open up!” He harshly knocks on it. “We got a game to play!”

He gets nothing as a reply.

With a sigh, Brett opens the door and strolls inside.

The room is utterly dim, almost to the point of blackness. Only because of the moonlight is he able to see Kale sitting on the edge of the bed with his head hung down, his hair hanging over his face.

Brett’s fierce expression softens into a look of compassion as he takes in this roommate’s state. “Aw, Claguer…” He steps up to him and nudges his shoulder. “Lighten up, we’re gonna play a game soon! The first one with us two as Warriors.”

Kale continues staring at the carpet, lost in his thoughts.

“Wait…” Brett holds up an index finger as excited anticipation rises in his face. “...I know what’d put you in the mood!”

He immediately speeds out of the room. A few seconds later, he returns with a light-coloured article of clothing balled in his hands.

“Here ya go.” He halts in front of Kale and holds it out to him.

Kale stays still in his position.

Brett lets go of the clothing, letting it plop on Kale’s lap.

Surprisingly, Kale makes a motion: he shifts his eyes to stare at it.

Brett groans, becoming impatient at Kale’s subtle movements. “Here, I’ll help ya out.” He grabs the jersey from his lap and unfolds it in front of Kale in the air.

Now hanging in Kale’s view is the back of a white Warriors’ jersey. Sewn on it is a black patch bearing the white word CLAGUE with the large, black and red-outlined number 51 below it.

“Huh, huh?” Brett twirls it front and back to show all angles of it. “What’d ya think? It’s such a beaut, isn’t it?”

Kale casts his eyes back down. He lets out a huff.

Brett lowers the jersey with a slight frown. He then settles next to him on the bed’s edge and gazes at him. “Claguer, I haven’t heard a single word come out from that big mouth of yours ever since I saw you today. What’s going on?”

Kale does not move a muscle.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Kale does something else: he glares at him.

“Oh, so I did do something wrong.”

Kale turns away from him and back at the ground.

“Come on, Claguer, lighten up!!!” Brett heartedly pats his back. “This is not you!” He gives him a good shake before letting go of him. “You’re usually livelier than this, last time I checked.”

Kale lets the silence answer his statement.

“You know what?” Brett stands up with the jersey and peers down at him. “What about a nice flight to the arena? You and I—” He peers up at the thought in a daze. “—gliding through the winter night skies with our powers to get to Calgary, eh?” He peers back down at him.

“You’re on your own.” With that, Kale stands up, breezes past him, and begins trudging toward the door.

Brett whirls around to face him with surprise. “What? Claguer! Why don’t you wanna join me—?”

“Because I CAN’T!” Kale stands in front of the door, breathing heavily to contain his anger as his head is still dipped. “How can I fly if I don’t have any powers?”

Confusion slowly forms in Brett’s face. “But you do have powers…” His voice fades off as he makes a connection.

Kale whirls to face him, his eyes glassy as he holds a scowl. “No, I don’t,” he spits out. “They got taken away because I got thrown into this stupid trade and I can’t be the power player of a team I’m no longer in even though I’ve been in it all my time in the juniors!”

He storms up to him and grabs his collar, sticking his face into his. “Count yourself as lucky you’re still in your rookie team and not have to be thrown into a trade that’d cost you your friends and powers.”

With that, Kale shoves him away and storms out of the room.

Brett stands there, appalled. “Claguer!” He rushes outside of the room, quickly spotting Kale flouncing into the corridor. “Kale!” He whizzes into the dimness and halts in front of him to stop him in his tracks.

“Where’re you going?”

Kale snaps his harsh eyes up at him. “Out of this place. I hate Saskatchewan anyway.” He begins to slip past him.

“Kale—!” Brett throws his hand at his wrist, snatching it in his grasp.

Kale instantly stops in his path at the strength of his teammate’s grasp. His heart skips a bit at the jolt of the stoppage. It’s a reinforcement that there is no way out of this situation. He cannot go back to the Wheat Kings; he is and will be a Warrior. The past is out of reach.

The pain of reality slams into Kale, causing his guard to be lowered: He relaxes and slowly turns around to face his new teammate.

Brett gazes back at him with amiability in his eyes and a look of concern.

This is the new chapter of his life. He must move on. Even when he least wants to. He has to.

With that, Kale’s face crumples as tears run down his cheeks. Sobs then escape from him, causing him to dip his head down in self-consciousness.

Confusion and pain are written all over Brett’s face as he watches his teammate cry. “Hey…” He steps up to him and pulls him into a soft hug.

Kale responds quickly by throwing his arms around him, pulling him close to him, like a child clutching onto his favourite plush toy.

Brett strokes his hair and back, attempting to soothe him. “Hey, it’s alright,” he murmurs. “I won’t tell anyone about this. Just let it out.”

Kale could only respond with more sobs and whimpers. He clings to Brett like how a child would cling to his parent.

“Do you want me to sing a 1D song?”

Kale shakes his head and with a squeak.

“How about the Biebs?”

Kale shakes his head more.

“Just hug me like this as I pat you?”

Kale tightens his embrace around him.

Brett has pursed lips. “Very well. You’re lucky I've had a lot of practice with Jake Dog.”

They stand there in the corridor’s dimness in silence. The only sounds were the subtle electronic music from the television and Kale’s snivelling sobs.

Then with a sniff, Kale pulls away with slanted eyebrows and a tear-stained face. He wipes his wet eyes with his jacket’s sleeves as his mouth quivers.

“Wait.” Brett steps back into the living room and swipes a box of tissues from the coffee table. He strolls into the corridor and hands it over to Kale. “Here.”

Kale snatches a couple of tissues and blows into them.

He lowers the box and analyzes Kale’s weary state. “How do hot chocolate, cookies, and a movie sound?”

Kale wipes his nose with the tissue and squeaks, “We got a game—”

“Forget about it.” He aimlessly waves hand. “I’ll let Coach scratch us.” He lowers his hand. “So?”

Kale lowers his tissue and nods his head with large eyes.

“Okay, good. I’ll get the stuff, you can go to the sofa.” Brett whirls around and strolls back into the bright kitchen.

Kale shuffles out of the corridor with his arms around himself and into the living room. After tossing his tissues into the trash bin, he settles on the sofa and pulls his legs up onto it, curling up into a ball.

He watches Brett leave a steaming pot on the stove and amble around the bend of the kitchen, into the room next to the television. He then emerges back into view, this time with a tossed red and white-coloured blanket in his arms.

Brett approaches him and lays the blanket over Kale’s body, revealing it to have the designs of the Canadian flag.

“I’ll be back with the food,” he tells him. He then returns back into the kitchen.

Kale takes the soft edges of the blanket and pulls it up to his chin and around his body, cuddling with it to be kept warm and comforted. He sits alone in his thoughts, staring at the bright television displaying the video game’s scoreboard.

A few minutes later, Brett comes up to him again. This time, he has two mugs in one hand and a plate of chocolate chip cookies in another. He places the porcelain items on the coffee table then steps over to the television.

Brett bends over toward the shelves the television is propped on. “Okay, which movie do you wanna watch?” he asks in a strained voice as he collects DVD covers from a shelf. He straightens up, revealing the DVDs in his hands, and begins shuffling them as he reads their titles: “Avengers, Iron Man, Batman…”

Hearing no response from Kale, peers up across the room at home, causing his voice to fade away.

Kale is gazing at him with watery eyes, appearing like a child who is being told by his parent he cannot have what he wants.

Brett lowers the DVDs with a dismayed look. “Right.” He peers down at them with a sharp inhale. “Well, there goes all the movies I have.” He tosses them on the coffee table, turns the television off by the remote, then rounds the coffee table before plopping on the sofa next to him.

The two sit in silence, staring at the dormant television. Brett reaches for his mug of hot chocolate and takes a gulp of it. He then places it back down on the coffee table and shifts his body to face his roommate.

“I’m really sorry that you have to go through this,” he emphatically tells him. “I mean, the trade’s not too bad since you’re with me now, but losing your powers, that’s terrible thing. If only the system was more flexible.”

Kale pulls the blanket over his mouth. “Yeah.”

“If I would, I would give you back your powers.” Brett reaches over to grab a cookie.

“Thanks…”

Silence takes over the conversation again as Brett eats the dessert. He then grabs the plate and holds it up to Kale.

“Cookie?”

Kale silently slips his hand from the blanket and grabs one. He stares at its cracks and chocolate dots as his mind recollects the horrid moments of having his powers taken away. “Beaner helped Chynoweth get rid of my powers. I can’t believe he would do that.”

Brett slips his mug back into his grasp. “Well, he is a Hitman.” He takes a sip of it.

“Right.” Kale takes a bite of the cookies when swallows. “Did…” He snaps his eyes up at him. “...did you know I was coming?”

Brett nods with his both hands occupied by the warmed mug. “Yeah. But did I know you had your powers removed?” He shakes his head. “No.”

“I guess I’m no longer in the society...” He takes another bite and casts his eyes down in misery.

Brett’s eyes slowly widen ahead at the reality. “That’s right.” He gazes down to him. “You can’t be in the GJHP any more…!” He looks back ahead of him. “Whoa.”

Knock, knock, knock.

A bewildered look quickly pops up on Brett’s face. “What?” He peers behind his shoulder to stare at the darkness of the corridor. “Who’s here?” He places his mug on the coffee table and stands up.

Kale has his eyebrows knitted while following Brett approaching the corridor with his eyes. “You weren’t expecting anyone?”

“No.” Brett then slips into the dimness and disappears around the bend.

Kale turns back to stare at the darken television once again. He finishes the last of his cookie in silence before it is interrupted: The door is heard opening then closing, letting in joyous laughter and multiple footsteps.

“Look at who came here!” he hears Brett announce from his right.

Kale turns to his right and peers up with surprise. Now accompanying Brett is his friend and former teammate, Nolan Patrick, and his newest friend and Canadian teammate, Carter Hart.

“Kale!!!” Carrying a cloth bag in his hand, Nolan prances up to him and falls on the sofa to his right.

Carter ambles to the sofa as well and sits on the armrest next to his friend.

Kale casts down his eyes in shame. “Hey.”

“Look what I got…!” Nolan opens up the bag and begins pulling out its items and placing them on the coffee table one-by-one: “Kombucha, your favourite poutine, and This Is Us…!” He holds the One Direction DVD cover and shakes it in the air with his signature dazzling smile. “So, what’d you say?”

Carter points to the glass kombucha bottle with the green label. “You should try the citrus one, it tastes like Sprite.”

“No,” Nolan interjects, pointing to another glass bottle that has a red label, “the Cola is MUCH sweeter, you don’t actually need honey for it…” He slowly gazes up at the goalie with narrowed eyes.

He shrugs with wide eyes and slight frown. “So I have a sweet tooth.”

“Yeah, and it’s gonna make us both slow on the ice!”

Brett, who is now standing by Carter, has skeptical eyes on the red and white-coloured DVD while rubbing his stubble-covered chin. “One Direction? Really?”

Nolan whirls to him with an authoritative expression. “If Kale wants it, we’ll put it on—” He turns to his former teammate. “—right, Kale?”

Kale nods his head with bright eyes on the DVD.

Nolan turns back to Brett with a flashy smile. “1D it is!” He simply holds the DVD to Brett.

With a groan, Brett snatches it and moseys toward the television to put it on.

---

Scarborough, Ontario, Canada

There is another meeting being conducted in the bright, white room of the CHL basement. This time on one end of the black, long table is the hologram figure of Ed. Next to him is Stuart Skinner, the ruler of the CHL; he is wearing a business suit like the founder. On Ed’s other side is Jake, who is still wearing his black Hitmen outfit.

Ed has a proud smile ahead of him. “How is it like being the power player of the Wheat Kings?”

Sitting on the other end of the table is a lanky, young, brunette man. This is Logan Thompson, the long-time goalie of the Brandon Wheat Kings.

Logan has his hand in front of his face, examining it as a wheat stalk materializes in his grasp. “Not bad…” He peers up at them with sharp eyes. “So I can fly with them, manipulate them, and generate them?”

The founder nods his head. “That’s right.”

“And no one else has these powers right now?” He raises his eyebrows.

Ed nods more. “Mm-hm.”

Logan swishes his sharp eyes between the three sitting across from him. “Who else has powers though?”

Stuart straightens up and places his interlaced fingers on the table. “There’s a power player in each team to hold the team powers. Since there’re twenty-two teams in the WHL, there’re twenty-two power players—” He places a hand on his chest. “—not including me.”

Logan snaps his eyes back on the light stalk. “Is there anything I HAVE to do with these powers?”

Jake shrugs with a cool expression. “I’m open for jobs.”

Ed whirls to him and hisses, “Bean.”

Jake’s expression falls into a serious one before turning his head away from him.

Stuart peers at Logan. “There isn’t really much, you use them to defend yourself or the league against any evil forces.” He holds a hand out toward him. “Or you can join the GJHP or not even join a society and be on your own.” He places his hand on the table. “It’s really your choice.”

“Hm.” He keeps his eyes on the wheat stalk, rotating his wrist to catch all angles of it. “I think I’m good.”

Ed raises his eyebrows at him. “Any more questions?”

Logan perks up at the three. “Nah, thank you, guys.” He reverts his attention back to the wheat.

Ed glances at the two teenagers by each of his sides. “Well, then, with that, the meeting is over.” He points to Stuart. “I need to discuss something with you.”

“Sounds good.” Stuart rises to his feet.

He follows the founder away from the table and through the only door in the room; the two disappear from sight.

Now in the room is just the hitman of the CHL and the newest power player of the Brandon Wheat Kings.

Logan snaps his eyes up at Jake, spotting him cleaning a long, black gun with a rag. He tightens his fist to disintegrate the wheat stalk, then rises from his seat.

The goalie settles on the swivel chair next to the hitman and whirls to him. “I actually do have a job for you.”

Jake halts his rubbing movements against the gun’s surface and peers up at him with an apathetic expression. “Who and how much?”

---

Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, Canada

Muted pop music is now pumping through the still night of Moose Jaw. It is emitting from the only lit-up window of the apartment building.

The other side resembles a concert: the band members are on screen in a concert, singing the pop song to their screaming fans. In the living room, the four teenagers are much enjoying their music, belting it together:

Baby, you light up my world like nobody else!

Brett is standing on the sofa, singing passionately into his hairbrush with his eyes squeezed closed.

The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed!

Nolan and Carter are singing to each other:

But when you smile at the ground it ain't hard to tell!

Kale now has his blanket pushed down to cover just his lap. He throws his hands in the air and sings along with his friends and favourite artists:

You don't know, oh oh!

They all turn to each other and yell together in the melody:

You don't know you're beauti—!

CRASH!!!

The window explodes, throwing sharp shards across the room. The brisk wind forcefully floods into the room, tossing the television, coffee table, and all of its contents onto the ground.

“—AAAHHH!!!”

The teenagers throw themselves onto the sofa and kneel on it, ducking away from the window and path of the harsh winds. Their hair flutters along with their clothes as they sense the sharp wind brushing on their exposed skin.

Then, a shadowy figure hovers into the room with fleeting shadows around him from the blasted window. The four follow the figure with wide, horrified eyes, as he descends toward the middle of the room, where the coffee table once stood.

The figure lands on that spot. He then slowly straightens up, letting the light of the room shine down on his facial features.

Kale and Nolan instantly gasp at the familiar face of the man.

“LT?” Nolan blurts out.

Logan turns his head to him, the wheat fluttering around him in a decreasing speed. He makes a disgusted look at his former captain. “What are you doing here?”

He then reverts his eyes to the three juniors. A sly smile creeps on his face. “Ah, there they are.”

Kale has large, panicked eyes on the rotating wheat stalks around the goalie’s legs. “You have my powers!”

Logan plucks up a wheat stalk, immediately having a metallic surface engulf it, and points it out to him as a threat. “They’re not yours anymore, Claguer—” He wags it at him. “Remember, you’re no longer a Wheat King.” He points the stalk to himself. “You don’t belong with us.”

With irritation, Brett pushes himself off from the sofa and marches up to him. “Dude, dude, chill—”

Logan gradually faces him with an expressionless look.

“—you just broke my window—” He holds his hand out toward the empty space that was once his window. “—ruined our time together—” He reverts his hand to his three friends. “—broke my TV—” He redirects his hand to the spewed furniture and food that rests on the wall perpendicular to his bedroom’s door. “—and knocked down my coffee table and cookies and now you’re rubbing it in poor Claguer’s face he’s no longer a— WHOA!”

Brett is immediately thrown backward by a plethora of flying, metallic wheat stalks, slamming his back against the wall above the hurled furniture and food. He stays pressed against the wall, a few feet above the ground, due to the metallic stalks acting as restraints on his limbs and chest.

Logan lowers his hand from Brett and turns to the three on the sofa. “I’m not here because I have something against Kale,” he starts off with his hands clasped behind his back. “Although that is twenty-five percent of it. I’m here to talk about injustice.”

“Let him go!” Carter barks, holding a hand out at Brett held against the wall.

Logan glares at the other goalie. “Shut it, Hart.” He then softens his expression a bit and peers back at the others. “You guys have it all: NHL draftees with promising futures, World Junior champions, and heck, even powers.” He eyes Kale. “Minus you with the powers part.”

He then gazes at the rest and places his hands on his chest. “But for me?” He makes a sorrowful look. “I wasn’t chosen to play for Canada! I wasn’t even drafted in the NHL! I had to get an invite to the Golden Knights just to lose!”

“You guys won the last rookie game,” Kale remarks seriously.

The goalie whirls to him with mad eyes. “But I don’t HAVE an NHL team.” He jabs his finger against his chest. “I’ve never gotten the opportunity to play on the world stage.” He straightens up, calming himself down to a cunning mein. “Now if you guys are gone, then there is just a chance for me get that recognition.”

“So what are you gonna do, hide us in a wheat field?” Nolan flatly remarks with a roll of his eyes.

He narrows his eyes at him with a tilt of his head. “Come on, I’m not that stupid now.”

“WHOA!” Carter instantly wraps his arms around Nolan’s chest from behind and yanks him toward him.

Nolan yelps at the sudden movement as he is thrust up against his friend. Annoyance immediately floods his face as he whirls his head to peer at the goalie. “What are you doing?!”

Carter simply directs Nolan against the back cushion of the sofa then reaches over his lap and swipes something from the cushion on the sofa. He straightens himself as he gazes at the article he retrieved.

In between his thumb and pointer finger is a small, black dart with a needle on one end and a suction cup on the other.

Carter brings it up to his nose and takes a long sniff. His eyes immediately narrow at the familiar scent. “Bean.” He turns to Logan with enraged betrayal growing on his face. “You hired Bean to hit us?!”

Logan holds his hands out from his sides with a slight frown and raised eyebrows. “I told you.”

Carter growls before rising to his feet. He nudges Nolan’s arm and states, “Let’s wreck his mission and find him.”

He rushes toward the open space and leaps into the night.

After giving one last dirty look to his former goalie, Nolan stands up, speeds up to the window, and jumps into the outside darkness.

Logan quickly follows their path through the room as he whips out a long stalk of metallic wheat from each of his hands and wheat flutters around his legs once again.

Suddenly, he feels a sharp, fizzy sensation slamming against his back.

“ARUGH!” Logan halts his pursuit and whirls around with enraged eyes.

Across the room, in front of the wall, Brett is standing with his bulky armour suit on. Behind him are torn holes in the wall, which portray his struggle of escaping from the restraints. He has his arm, which has his gun connected to it, aimed straight at him. The muzzle of the gun is smoking, signifying that it has just been used.

“Fight me,” Brett spits out.

Logan whirls his metallic wheat stalks in his hands before thrusting them straight at him.

Brett throws his forearm in front of him as a shield assembles itself in front of it. The metallic stalks clash against his shield and clank on the ground harmlessly.

Brett instantly attacks by firing a round of laser beams with his other arm.

Logan whips out another pair of metallic wheat stalks and spins them in the air, deflecting the lasers in spastic directions around the room.

On the sofa, Kale holds a sofa cushion in front of him as a shield from the flying lasers. His eyes are squeezed closed, his heart is pounding loudly, his hands are sweaty. His mind churns about how he is now incompetent in this supernatural battle. I want to help, but I can’t. If I attempt to, I’d be smoked. Is there anything I can do to help out Brett?

The fear of being injured grips him, preventing him from taking a peek at the fight from behind the cushion. No.

With that, he stays still with the cushion as his only source of protection as he hears the slams and whizzes and swipes of the battle in his darkness.

---

On the roof of a building facing Brett’s bright place, Jake is lying on his stomach with a gun on a stand aimed at the fight visible through the open space. He has his open eye peering through the eyepiece of the gun with his other eye closed to get an accurate aim on Brett. Yet with Brett’s constant movements with his metallic arms blocking his neck, the hitman is having a difficult time having a clear, open space for him to launch a dart to his neck.

Jake keenly watches Brett blocking an array of wheat stalks with his shield, blocking the lower half of his face and neck. “Just lower your shield for a few seconds...,” he mutters under his breath.

BOOF!!!

Due to a blunt force slamming in front of him, Jake is knocked backward and rolls on the roof until landing a few feet away from the roof’s edge on his side. His gun and its stand skids against the rough surface alone with him, halting out of his reach.

Jake instantly hops to his feet, yet before he rushes to his gun, he senses someone to his right. With that, he whirls to that direction, facing the source of the force.

Hovering on the other side of the roof in the air is Nolan on his glider. He has a throwing star in each of his hands, peering down at the hitmen with pride.

Jake then senses someone to his left, causing him to look there.

Sure enough, standing next to him is Carter, who has his silver bear claws unsheathed.

The hitman whirls back to Nolan in seriousness.

“Mission fail, Beaner,” Nolan remarks. He then thrusts his throwing stars at him.

Jake instantly drops to the ground, dodging the flying weapons, and rolls to his left to avoid their path. He tumbles toward his gun’s direction then slows his motions to snatch it, only to be held on tightly from behind and yanked up to his feet before he could grab it.

He snaps his eyes down, spotting a pair of arms wrapped around his chest from behind. Their fingers are protruding silver claws, their sharp tips dangerously close to his jawline.

Quickly, Jake kicks backward, feeling his foot strike the softness of Carter’s torso.

“Oof!”

He then witnesses Carter’s arms slip away from him and out of his sight before a thump! is heard from behind.

Jake instantly snatches his gun from the ground, whirls around to face Nolan, and cocks his gun before pulling the trigger.

A bullet is released from the muzzle, hitting the bottom of Nolan’s glider.

Immediately, the glider smokes and drops out of sight with its owner.

“AAAHHHHH!!!” Nolan screams as he spirals downward through the air in smoke.

Carter scrambles up to his knees and lifts his head toward the edge with shock. “Nolan, no!”

SMASH!!!

With his feet below him, Nolan’s glide smashes the frozen surface of a nearby pond, causing him to plunge into its icy waters.

The sharp, frigid water swirls around Nolan, pricking his skin and subtly numbing his senses. With his eyes wide and cheeks puffed to hold his breath, Nolan pushes himself upward with the panicked circling of his arms through the dark water.

The surface explodes as Nolan emerges through the hole and into the brisk air, taking in a deep breath. He hastily whirls around in the hole of the surface, attempting to figure out where he is located. With the aid of the apartment’s outdoor lights now to his left, it is clear of his state and position.

He peers up ahead of him, spotting the building across the apartments he plummeted from. Yet with the darkness of the night, his vision is obscured.

“Ugh!” Nolan pulls his arms up to the smooth, frigid top of the cracked surface in an attempt to pull himself out. Yet he freezes when he spots something peculiar: He peers down at himself, noticing that he now has his bare chest visible.

“What?” Then with a flood of realization, he pauses again with wide eyes. “Don’t you dare tell me…”

He rotates his hips in front of him, lifting his strangely heavier and bulkier legs in front of him. The weak surface around him crumbles as he pulls weird-feeling legs up into view.

Staring in front of him is his long, gorgeous misty-rose-coloured merman tail glimmering in the lights.

“Nooo-oooh…” Nolan cranes his head back with a groan. He throws his tail back into the water. “How on earth am I gonna get out of here?”

Back up on the building’s roof, Carter stares down past the edge at the dark pond. His eyes flicker as he initiates his night vision ability. Just as clear as daylight, he watches Nolan sink back down into the partially frozen pond.

His breath is caught after his friend disappears underwater. He’s sinking…!

With anger building up inside of him, he slowly rises to his feet, his shoulders hunched and teeth bared.

“HUR-HUR—” He throws his head back and lets out a bear roar: “—HURRRAAAHHH!!!”

Carter instantly whirls around as he takes on the physique of a large, brown grizzly bear. He lets out another bear cry before lunging straight at the hitman.

Jake is slammed on his back as the large animal pounces on him.

The bear lets out another ground-shaking roar at his face before swiping his sharp claws at him.

Jake instantly raises his gun horizontally at the paw, deflecting the claws away from him.

Then with an enraged huff, the grizzly bear takes another maddening swing at him.

Jake continues battling the flying claws at him with his gun, grunting at each pump of his arms against the weight of the heavy paws. He then collects his inwardly superhuman strength and smacks his gun with force against the paws, shoving them away from him, before pressing the muzzle against the bear’s furry neck and pulling the trigger.

Immediately, the bear relaxes as his rage drains from his face. His massive body slumps to aside, landing next to Jake on his side with his back facing him. A transformation then sweeps through the animal, morphing the goalie back to himself.

With a groan, Jake climbs up to his feet. He looms above the fallen power player, scrutinizing him for any motion.

Yet Carter stays on the ground without any sign of motion: His body is limp, his eyes are closed, his face is lax.

The hitman then leans over and scoops the goalie into his two arms. He then turns around and begins marching across the roof, toward a jet that has been in the shadows on the other side of the roof all this time.

From inside Brett’s apartment, Kale is peeking through the open space that was once the window, witnessing the action occurring on the roof of the building across. He still has the cushion tight in his grasp, protecting him from any flying projectiles from the battle happening in front of him.

He watches with wide, steady eyes as a silhouette carries another silhouette in his arms toward a dark area of the roof. Pat fell over because he’s the only one that has something that’s capable of smoking, Carts just turned into a bear and now isn’t anymore, but who’s carrying…? A connection clicks in his mind. Carter wouldn’t be walking like that toward that direction. He would’ve lunged here by now. Beaner’s got Carts.

With panic, Kale whirls his head around and peers over the cushion to spot the inside of the room.

In the same spot, Brett is shooting an array of lasers at the fluttering wheat that is whipping around him like a tornado. Outside of the whirlwind of wheat is Logan, who has his hands out toward it with a resolved look.

“Brett!” Kale yells.

Brett has determined eyes on the flying stalks as he precisely fires at each one with his hands now as guns. “Not now!”

“He’s got Carts!” Kale continues on over the wind. “Beaner’s got him!”

“Pat’s there!”

Kale whirls around to peek out the window. He spots the roof now completely empty with no movement. “I don’t see him!” He turns back to him. “You’ve gotta get to him!”

Brett lets out a growl of frustration toward his stalemate and the fall of his friends.

With narrowed eyes to shield from the wheat, he pulls his gun-hands close to each other in front of him and lets out a concentrated red beam from each of them.

The beams strike Logan in the chest, causing him to fling backward through the air before slamming against the ground.

In the middle of the living room, Logan writhes on the ground on his stomach as smoke rises from him.

The wheat around Brett instantly drops to the ground as a pile of innocent wheat stalks.

Brett steps up to his defeated opponent and stares down at him, breathing hard. He then turns to his left, peering at Kale huddled on the sofa. “I’m going. Go and hide.”

With that, Brett rushes up to the space as fast as he can go with his bulky suit and blasts off to the night with fire beneath his feet.

The room then falls into a much-needed silence. Kale stays still on the sofa, his eyes glued on the night sky he watched his new teammate fly in. His eyes get lost in the darkness of the inky skies as his mind is fogged by the subtle panic rising in him. His breathing hitches, his heart pounds harder, his sweaty hands grip the cushion harder, damping its cloth surface.

Then with a huge gulp, he flicks his eyes to the inside of the room. He lands them on Logan lying on the ground: The goalie is letting out groans.

He swings his eyes to his right, spotting his asylum: his opened bedroom door. He turns back to Logan: He is now shifting his limbs in a gradual attempt to get up.

With his keen eyes glued on his former teammate, Kale slowly rises to his feet with the cushion clutched against his chest. He then shuffles sideways to keep his sight on the goalie while slipping away from him.

Once he reaches the end of the sofa, he turns around to face the glorious opened bedroom and begins approaching.

Suddenly, a sharp, searing pain shoots up his calf.

“AURGH!” Kale stumbles over, letting go of the cushion, and collapses right on his face. He stays frozen on the hardwood floor as the blunt force of the fall whizzes through his body. The agony of his leg continues to mercilessly sting and throb.

Behind him, Logan rises into view, looming above at the powerless skater. With a sick smirk, he steps up to him with his eyes on his legs’ backs.

Protruding directly upward from Kale’s calf a metallic wheat stalk, the clear source of the pain. Beyond his legs, Kale attempts to push himself up by his two, trembling arms. His face is tense, his teeth are gritted and bare, his mind attempts to thwart off the piercing pain, but it keeps pulsing up his body.

“Maybe that’d help not wanting to regain these powers,” he hears Logan roguishly telling him.

Kale collapses his arms, letting himself slam back against his stomach. He squeezes his eyes closed as the fierce pain continues to thrive, making him whimper.

Logan rolls his eyes at his feeble state. “Grow up, it’s just a cut.”

He then reaches down to Kale and grabs his two shoulders with each of his arms. He lifts his arm up to his shoulder level, yanking him off from the floor, and turns him around before pressing his back against the wall next to the sofa.

“Gah!” Kale winces as the stalk in his calf is twisted due to skidding against the wall, emitting another wave of violent pain through him.

The goalie then lets go of him, pinning his shirt above his shoulders with small metallic stalks. He pulls Kale’s hands over his head, locking them in place against the wall with another stalk. He finishes off his work with latching his ankles and torso onto the wall.

Logan steps back, admiring his handiwork with a smug smile. Kale is a few feet above the ground, just like how Brett was held in hostage. He has his head hung down in self-consciousness, his now matted hair covering his face.

“It’s good you don’t have powers,” Logan remarks with his hands clasped behind his back. “I don’t have to worry about you pulling some supernatural trick up your sleeve.” His then takes on a serious expression. “Now be a good hostage and don’t move. I gotta check on my hitman.”

With that, he steps away and propels himself into the air with the aid of his flutter wheat stalks. He flies through the open space and into the night.

Heavy silence settles into the room once again. The spewed clutter and furniture is against the wall with its spilled contents of food and broken pieces of plastic, wood, and glass. The walls are sprinkled with scorch marks and torn holes due to fierce battle. The wintery, chilly wind drifts through the room, giving it a cold, eerie feeling.

Hanging on the wall, Kale keeps his body still. A taut feeling of a sob climbs up in his throat as a threat to make him cry once again. He swallows, pushing the feeling down, which makes his chest tight. Yet his eyes are prickled with tears, his mouth wobbles beyond his control, his mind swirls with all the despair that has been building up inside of him. Nausea fuelled by worry fills him, his heart powered by panic pounds against his chest, goosebumps caused by the cold breeze forms on his skin.

With all of his strength, Kale reaches his right hand over to his left hand to bring a sense of comfort to him. His right hand clasps over his left hand, not only feeling his hand but also a smooth accessory wrapped around his wrist.

His eyes light up at the familiar touch of the bracelet. My Wrist-Moto! I’m still wearing it! I can call for help!

In a haste, Kale runs his fingers over the small, sleek screen of the gadget, attempting to call on it by solely touch.

Finally, he hears Kailer Yamamoto’s sophisticated, yet solicitous voice. “Clague?”

“Kailer!” he cries out into the jumbled room.

“What seems to be the matter?”

“I need help, badly: I’m in hostage at Brett’s place, I have no powers, Brett’s trying to save Carter from Jake Bean, Pat’s MIA, and Logan Thompson now has my powers and attacked us and is flying over to check on Beaner. Please, Kailer, come now!”

“I’ll be right there.”

Kale lets out a shaky breath in an attempt to calm himself down. Kailer is coming over to get me out of here. Everything will be fine—

“Well,” Kailer’s voice speaks up again, pulling Kale out of his thoughts, “Patrick is no longer MIA— I encountered him as a merman in an ice-bound pond nearby.”

His heartbeat speeds up again as the danger of being alone and inept creeps in. “Okay, cool, can you please come get me—”

“Who are you talking to there, Claguer?” he hears Logan asking mockingly.

A gasp is caught in his throat as he freezes in pure terror. He whirls to his left to face the open space, where the voice came from. The colour of his face immediately drains away.

Logan himself stalks up to him with crossed arms and a menacing glare.

The fear has gripped Kale so tight, the defenceman cannot do anything physically: He stays frozen, his wide eyes glued on the goalie, his face pale, his hands trembling, his breath shaky. The last thing he needs is for his access to help through his Wrist-Moto to be disclosed.

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Logan answers for himself, halting right in front of him, “because you’re now coming with me—”

“Stop in the name of the CHL,” a familiar, booming voice is heard from the open space.

In shock, the two turn to the direction of the voice.

Standing majestically in front of the large, shattered window is a stately bronco made out of blue, green, and white wispy energy with its eyes glowing white. Sitting on top of it is its owner, Stuart himself.

“Or Chynoweth so help you.” The CHL ruler climbs off of his bronco and instantly sweeps his hand through it.

The bronco morphs into a delicate stream of energy, having it be guided by his hands to churn around him. His eyes are filled with electrical white as his body bears a white, pulsing outline dripping with blue and green, illuminating the whole room.

On the other side of the living room, Logan grits his teeth at him in disgust. “No.”

“Yes.” Stuart raises his eyebrows at him. “That’s exactly what I say to what you’re doing.” He then throws his vibrant hands out at him.

The energy around him is sucked through his hands and flies past him in a concentrated stream of blue, green and white, instantly striking its target.

Logan is thrust off his feet, flipping through the air, before smacking against the hard floor right by entrance of the corridor. He subtly writhes in pain as smoke and groans come out from him.

Stuart peers at the hostage up on the wall and flicks his glowing hand toward him.

Instantly, the metallic stalk restraints dissolve into sparks, which swirl around Kale to guide him safely to his feet.

The sparks drift away, along with the pain in his leg.

Kale’s eyes light up in relief from his shoulders and calf. Yet the emotional pain and trauma still linger inside of him, causing his skin to be cold and himself to quiver.

In spite of the distress, Kale peers up at the ruler in gratefulness. “Thank you so much,” he breathes out.

The energy around Stuart vanishes as he swiftly approaches him. “Who else is involved?”

Kale flicks his eyes down in deep thought. “Brett...Pat, Carter, Beaner.”

With a disappointed expression, Stuart whirls around to face the disorderly living room. “Okay, time to get them in here.” He then lifts his hands from his sides, guiding his surge of energy to pulse around his hands once again.

The fine energy stretches from his hands and circles around the room, creating a torrent of wind as it increases in speed and strength. The scenery within begins to blur with the streaking whiteness of the energy. The two standing hockey players stand outside of it, only having their hair and clothes whipped by its outside winds.

The energy then is sucked back into Stuart’s hands, along with the wind. The room calms down with their hair and clothes.

Stuart lowers his hands as he stares ahead at the now occupied living room.

Standing now in front of the sofa is Brett, Nolan, Carter, Logan, and Jake. They are each all held in place by the churning of a circular, blue, white, and green ergokinetic restraint around their feet and around their arms and torso.

Kale stays in his place, staring at his supernatural friends in trepidation.

Stuart whisks into the living room and halts in front of them. “What in the supernatural side of the CHL is going on here?”

“He attacked us,” Brett states loudly, nodding toward his left, where Logan and Jake stand. “Both of them did: Logan and Beaner.”

Stuart turns his head to Logan and Jake. “Why did you guys do that?”

Logan replies by narrowing eyes with a bitter look.

“Don’t make me tap into your mind.” Stuart cocks an eyebrow as a threat.

“I just wanted to have the upper hand in something,” the goalie mutters, maintaining his expression. “I thought I could it with my powers.” He juts his chin to Jake, who is to his left. “And I hired Bean to help me.”

Stuart glares directly at Jake. “Why did you take his job? You know hitmen work for the good of the power players, not against their good.”

“It’s not my fault I have apathy,” Jake speaks up, clearly conveying that state. “I take on any job that’s offered to me at a good price.”

Stuart steps up to him with a solemn mien. “But you work for Chynoweth to benefit the power players, not for power players wanting to arms each other.” He halts in front of him jabs his finger toward the floor. “This behaviour will not be tolerated by Chynoweth or me and will be demanded a grave consequence.”

He slides to his right to become face-to-face with Logan. “If you recall in our meeting he had not even six hours ago, the power player’s job is to PROTECT the league and his fellow players in the league, NOT to go against them. From what I see, you’re not fit to obtain these powers, therefore they will be extracted.”

“Will I get them back?” Kale speaks up from the other side of the living room.

Stuart turns to his left to peer at him. “You’re in the Warriors, Kale.” He then steps back toward the left to get a view of the other two junior power players.

“Brett, Carter, good job for not letting this go too…” He slides his eyes from side-to-side, taking in the littered living room. “...out of hand.”

He gazes at the only NHLer. “And Patrick, I can’t say anything to you since you’re in a whole other system.”

Nolan simply smirks at him with pride.

“Alright.” With a magisterial aura, Stuart steps back to look at all of the locked power players. “I’m bringing Logan and Jake along with me and the rest of you men have a good night.”

Instantly, a sweep of white, blue, and green energy flies around Stuart, Jake, and Logan. Once the energy disappears, the restraints around the three power players dissolve and the living room is transformed back to its normal state.

Brett lets out a sigh as he steps forward. “Whew!” He peers at the other three with raised eyebrows. “What a way to end a party or what?!”

Kale peers at the other three with his arms around himself in a hug. “Thanks guys for sticking up for me. I don’t think I would’ve stood a chance without you guys.”

Brett steps up to him and pats his back. “Of course, Claguer. Whether you’re a power player or not, we’re still friends, eh?”

Nolan gives him a bright, dazzling grin. “That’s right!”

“If any of those guys try to get you again,” Carter speaks up, pointing toward the window, “I’m up to fighting them for you.”

Nolan whirls to his friend with a gawk. “You got totally owned by Beaner.”

Carter furrows his eyebrows at him in offence. “You fell into a pond and almost drowned!”

“I didn’t drown, I just turned into a merman—!” Nolan’s eyes fly open as he slaps his hands over his mouth.

Surprise takes over the goalie’s face. “Wait? Did you just say you turned into a merman?”

Nolan vigorously shakes his head with puck-sized eyes.

Brett slips up to the forward with a delightful grin. “Pat, spit it out, you can!” He slaps his back before grasping onto his shoulder and peering at the goalie. “Claguer, Pat, and I got caught in some freak whirlpool over the summer and became mermen. So now when we’re completely submerged in water, our fins come out.”

Excitement overcomes Carter’s face as he gasps. “What?! No way!” He gazes at Nolan. “You never told me this before?!”

Nolan removes his hands from his mouth with a flat look. “I didn’t need to.”

“That’s so cool!” He holds his hands out toward him. “I wanna see you as a merman!”

Nolan crosses his arms. “Later, not now.”

“Of course, of course, later.” He then wraps his arm around him and shakes him, attempting to loosen him.

Brett steps up to Kale and nudges him. “At least you can still turn into a merman.”

“If THAT wasn’t taken away too,” Kale mumbles.

Nolan then turns around to face the two teammates along with his friend. “Well, we should go now.” He peers down at Kale. “And Claguer, thank Kailer for saving me— I owe him something.” Then with a flick of his hair, he struts past them, approaching the corridor.

Carter gawks at his friend. “Yamamoto saved you?!” He then jogs up to him to align himself with him.

“Yeah, because you were busy about to be turned into a carpet!” Nolan is heard remarking as they are submerged in the dimness.

“Well, at least we’re safe now…” Their voices fade off as the door opens and shuts close.

Brett then whirls to face Kale. “I think we should hit the sack. It’s super late.”

Kale dips his head. “Yeah.” He then turns around and shuffles toward his bedroom.

“Hey, Kale,” he hears Brett calling out from behind him.

Kale halts then peers behind his shoulder to glance at his new teammate.

Brett is gazing down at him with a genuine look of concern. “Are you okay with not having your powers?” he asks in a matching tone. “Will you be fine?”

Kale reverts his body to face him comfortably. “I’m actually planning to talk to Ed again tomorrow. Especially after seeing how irresponsible my former teammates are.” With that, he turns back around and continues his trek into his bedroom.

From his spot by the sofa, Brett watches him enter his room. “Okay, well, good night, Clauger!”

Kale then halts in the middle of the doorway as realization pops into his mind. He turns around to face him. “Good night, Brett.” He flicks his eyes downward. “And...thanks for letting me move in here. And for the cookies. And the movie.” He reverts his eyes back up to him. “And keeping me safe.”

A small grin cracks on Brett’s face. “Of course.” He steps up to him. “You’re not only my friend and Canadian teammate, but now my Warriors teammate.” He then pulls him into a hug. “I care about you and want to make sure you’re okay.”

Kale instantly melts into the warmth of Brett’s embrace: He wraps his arms around him and loosens himself as a small smile spreads across his face.

Brett then pulls away to gaze down at him with both hands on his shoulders. “Now all you need to do is to make a simple move to Tampa.”

Kale’s face drops into a gawk. “Oh, no way.” He holds his hand out to him. “Why don’t you come to the Golden State instead?”

“What’s so bad about the Sunshine State?” Brett displays playful hurt on his face.

“‘Sunshine State’?” Kale scoffs with a roll of his eyes. “More like ‘Melting State.’”

Brett crosses his arms with furrowed eyebrows. “Speak for yourself, doesn’t LA have a terrible pollution problem?”

Kale shrugs with a small frown. “Eh, I can’t really deny that.”

“Well—” Brett nudges his shoulder with a mirthful chuckle. “—each city has its own downside, like how brutally cold it gets here.” He then gives him one last grin. “‘Night now.” He then turns around and ambles away.

“Good night, Brett!” Kale calls out after him. Then with a content expression, he slips into his dark bedroom and closes the door behind him.

---

January 11, 2018
Scarborough, Ontario, Canada

“Great news,” Ed starts off, “Thompson is no longer the power player of the Wheat Kings and Bean is now a non-power player.” He turns to the others. “Bean was just earlier traded to the Tri-City Americans, which already has a power player. I had to keep him as my hitman longer than usual to execute all of these power player trades with his aid.”

Sitting across the meeting table of the CHL basement from the founder is Stuart and Kale.

Stuart turns to Kale with a small grin. “That must be a relief to you, eh?” He nudges his upper arm.

Kale nods, not appearing half as happy as him. “Yeah…”

Ed turns to the CHL ruler. “How is the ruler form of the Broncos powers holding up for you?”

Stuart faces the founder. “Fantastic. It’s a nice twist with keeping some of the Hurricanes aspects.” He then turns to Kale and whispers, “Ruler privileges.”

Kale dips his head in response.

Ed peers at Kale with subtle bewilderment. “What brings you in here again, Clague?”

Kale perks up at him with trepidation. He draws in a deep breath before stating, “I want my powers back.”

Ed lets out a sigh of stress. “I’ve already explained—”

“But did you see how they were mishandled yesterday?!” Kale cries out, holding his hands out toward him. “They got rid of not one, but two power players, including your own hitman!”

“I know,” Ed starts off gingerly, “that’s why we are withholding anyone on the Wheat Kings current roster from being the power player.”

Silence fills the room for a moment.

“What?” Kale drops his jaw. “No one is the power player of the Wheat Kings now?”

He nods his head. “That’s right.”

“I can though!” He slams his hands against his chest. “I know those powers from the back of my hand!”

“You’re not qualified to be the Wheat Kings power player,” Stuart sternly states to him. “Which team are you playing for now?”

Kale groans with a roll of his eyes. “Moose Jaw.”

“And is that the Wheat Kings?”

Kale turns to him with a flat look. “No.”

“Then…”

“Fine.” Kale throws his hands in the air with a scowl. “I just won’t have any more powers and be helpless and possibly die if another power player attacks me.” He sinks his head into his hands.

“Actually…” Ed holds up a finger. “There are three people who want to see you.”

Kale knits his eyebrows in confusion as he perks up. “What? Who?”

Ed spins around in his swivel chair to face the only door in the room.

Right on cue, the door opens, letting three cyan-coloured holographic figures of older men stroll into the room. The other founders stand behind the CHL founder with beams on their faces directed at the defenceman.

Kale gawks at their holographic sight in shock.

Ed holds his hand out to each one and introduces them to the two hockey players, “This is Henry Brabham, the founder of the ECHL, Maurice Podoloff, the founder of the AHL, and Thomas Patrick Gorman, the founder of the NHL.”

Kale clears his throat before weakly waving at them. Next to him, Stuart has a big, closed smile at the defenceman.

“Hi,” Kale greets with a hint of uncertainty. “I’m Kale Clague.”

“Hello, Mr. Clague,” Tommy starts off, “we would like to discuss with you the consideration of having you be one of the Kings’ organization’s power player.”


The End!

Notes