AAOOOSC! Playoffs

The next day, the 2014 NHL playoffs starts with Lightning versus the Canadians, Penguins versus the Blue Jackets, and Ducks versus the Stars. But meanwhile those games are going on, Jimmy is at the EHP HQs, doing some research of the Stanley Cup.
"Dum-dee-dum-dee-dum... Let's read about the Cup...," Jimmy sing-songs while typing and clicking on the computer in a dark room. "Hmmm, here we go! An article straight from the NHL Basement!" He begins snickering. "NHL Basement?! There's such thing as that?! Funny!" He begins reading in silence. "The Stanley Cup blah, blah, blah, named after a dude named Sir Frederick Arthur Stanley, yadadada... The Cups are all in the Hall of Fame in Toronto... What?" Jimmy leans closer to the screen, making sure what he just read was right. "No... The Cup...the real one..." He leans back on his rolling office chair, staring at the computer. "...is the one that has all the powers of the NHL... It's the key to control the NHL's powers..." He rubs his pointy chin. "If I get my hands on that, then... Ooo..." A insidious smirk grows on his face. "...I'll have control over the NHL's powers...and heaven knows what I'll do! Oh man, now I want that Cup--" He pauses for a moment. "But I have to win the Stanley Cup Finals in order to get it; I can't wait that long!" Jimmy places his hands on his dark blond, combed hair. "No, no, no, who says I have to win the Finals in order to get the Cup--why not get it...now?" He looks at the computer's clock, which reads '11:37 pm'. "Or maybe tomorrow."

The next morning in the TD Garden, the Detroit Red Wings are practicing for their first playoff game in the year.
"Oh no, I have a game tonight!" Jimmy mutters, while skating around the ice rink. "But I need to get the Cup! You know what?" He stops skating. "I'll pretend that I'm sick! Then I'll have time to steal the Cup!" He crackles evilly, yet quietly while skating towards his coach, Mike Babcock. He clears his throat and talks in a weak, scratchy voice. "Cooooach...?"
Babcock turns to his starting goalie sharply. "What is it, Howard?"
"I don't feel good... I think I'm...I'm sick..." Jimmy forces out a few coughs.
"Really?" Babcock has a worried look.
"Yea... I think I have a stomachache... I don't think I can play tonight... Can I go home before I..." Jimmy pretends throwing up.
"Yea, yea, yea, go ahead. Get some rest and drinks lots of liquids. Hope you get better!" Babcock pats Jimmy's back as he walks off into the locker room.
"Yes!" Jimmy brings his fist down in triumph. "Toronto, here I come!"
After Jimmy left to the locker room, Jonas Gustavsson, the back up goalie of the Red Wings, saw that Jimmy got away from playing with faking being sick. Now that Jimmy's gone, he's gonna have to play the whole game. Oh no...
"Coooooach... Jonas whines in a cowboy accent.
"What is it now, Gustavsson?" Babcock snaps.
"I think I got duh chicken pox--" He begins making chicken sounds while pretending to have chicken wings with his arms, jerking back and forth awkwardly. "Bok! Bok! BOK!!!"
"Are you serious?" Babcock crosses his arms. "GET BACK ON THE ICE AND QUIT FAKING THE CHICKEN POX!!!" He points to the ice with a stern look.
"Awww..." Jonas lumbers onto the ice and starts skating around. "Why can Jimmy go but not me? I'm gonna find out myself after practice."

About an hour later, Jimmy finally gets into the car, wearing his regular clothes. "Ah, finally... I get to go grab the Cup." He begins chuckling evilly. Jimmy turns on his car and begins speeding off to Toronto.
About an hour later in Ontario, Jimmy is driving peacefully when something on the rear view mirror catches his eye. Something begins to rise slowly from the seats behind the driver's and passenger's seats. A red helmet...eyes...big, creepy eyes...
"AAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAA!!!!!!!!!!" Jimmy screams, slamming on the breaks. Luckily, he is coming up to a red light. Jimmy turns around, seeing Jonas Gustavsson sitting on the back seat in his goalie gear, staring at Jimmy. "What...are you doing here and how did you get into my car?"
"Uhhh...I just wanna know where ya goin--"
"THAT'S NON OF YOUR BUSINESS!!! Jimmy snaps. "You scared the living daylights outta me, Gustavsson!!! How did you get into my car?"
"I, um--"
"You know what, forget it!" Jimmy raises his hand up, signaling Jonas to stop talking. "There's nothing I could do now, I can't go back to drop you off and I cannot surely leave you stranded in Canada or else Coach'll kill me. You're just gonna have to come with me."
"Ooo!!! Yipee!" Jonas claps excitedly. "Where ya going?"
"To Toronto."
"Why?"
"Don't tell anyone this, but to get the Stanley Cup."
Jonas gasps. "You're gonna get dee Cup? How?"
"Be stealing. Don't worry, I know how to steal." Jimmy winks.
"So what do I do?"
"You...just don't get in the way, okay?"
Jonas nods his head. "Oh yah! This beats playin' against them Bruins! Let's go!"
Jimmy sighs and continues driving. "Now I have my backup goalie tagging along in my mission... Lovely."

About three hours later, Jimmy finally arrives at the NHL Hall of Fame with Jonas.
"Haha! Here we are!" Jimmy gets off of his car. "Jonas, you do what I tell you to do and nothing else, okay?"
Jonas gets off as well, no longer wearing his goalie equipment but his street clothes. "Oh-kay! He gives him a thumbs up.
"Good. Let's go."
They enter the dark building through an open window and climb up three flights of stair, stumbling upon a hallway full of lasers. On the other side of the dimmed hallway is a door, which was the room the real Stanley Cup is being stored in for the night.
"Oh yes...all we gotta do is dodge these lasers and the Cup is ours!" Jimmy rubs his hands together with greed.
"Buttum, I dunno how to dodge these lasers..." Jonas looks at the long, bright, red lights in fear.
"Here: I'll show you." Jimmy begins jumping over the low lasers, ducking/crawling over the high lasers, then disables the last few lasers that seem impossible to get pass through without touching them with his red energy. "Okay, Jonas--you're turn!" He stands proudly on the other side, waiting for his hitchhiker to come along.
"Uhhh..." Jonas jumps over the first laser, which is really low. "I did it!"
"Great, just do that good about fifty more times."
"Ohhh..." Jonas crawls under a high laser and stands up. "I did it!" He extends his arms out, touching a bunch of lasers.
"Jonas, NO!!!"
But it was too late.
Jonas begins to get electrocuted while alarms blared with red lights swirling around the room.
"Dang it! Stay there, Jonas!" Jimmy speeds off into the Stanley Cup room.
Jonas groans and collapses onto the ground, with steam rising from his now blacken self.
The door to the hallway bursts open and Jonathan Bernier and Cam Ward rushes into the inflamed room, wearing their NHL Police uniforms.
"We got him!" Cam exclaims happily in a cheery voice.
Martin Brodeur, head sheriff of the NHL Police, enters the room with a serious look. "What is going on in here?!"
"We got him!!" Cam repeats, pointing to the person who is sprawled across the ground, below the lasers.
"Bernier: disable the lasers," Martin orders.
Bernier pulls out a remote control from his black holster and presses a button; the lasers disappear.
"Also do that with the alarm system, please." Martin begins to make his way towards the intruder.
Bernier presses another button on the remote control; the room calms down.
"Why can't I have an awesome control thingie like that?" Cam asks Bernier.
"I dunno," Bernier answers in a soft, timid voice, shrugging.
Martin looms over the person. "Who are you?"
The person kneels up, revealing his face covered with scorch marks and with droopy eyes. "Yoooou goht meh!" He holds out his hands at Martin lazily. (You got me!)
"Jonas Gustavsson?!" Martin's blue eyes widen. "What are you doing here?"
"I dunno, I was just uh..." Jonas voice is slurred.
"Did you come alone or did someone else come with you?"
"Well, um uh, I was justtuh thinkin'--"
"Bernier! Ward! Interrogate this place! Try to find clues to see if anyone else is with Gustavsson!"
"Oh-kay!" Cam salutes Martin and pulls out his magnify glass, looking at the walls and floor through it.
"Yay!" Bernier places his hands and bottom of his shoes on the wall and beings climbing up to the ceiling.
"Okay, Gustavsson, who did you come with? You couldn't have gone by yourself--you have a game tonight!"
"Wellum, Jimmeh faked sick so I wanted to come with 'im!"
"Wait, Jimmy..." Martin makes a shocked look. "He's here for the Cup! Ward: handcuff Gustavsson and don't let him go anywhere!" He rushes down the hallway.
"Okay!" Cam grabs his handcuffs from his holster and wraps them around Jonas's wrist.
Bernier crawls over, sticking upside-down on the ceiling above Cam, looking for clues.
Martin bursts into the Stanley Cup's room. It was a small, bright room that's painted yellow with a single window that's on the wall in front of the entrance. In the middle was a tall glass case that is being held up by a block of polished wood; the glass case was empty.
"No...it's too late.. Howard already got the--" Martin's voice is cut by a THUMP!, following by a scream and wailing. "Oh man, not now, Ward." Martin tries to teleport, but it felt like he couldn't--it is like as if he is stuck. "Oh no..." He decides to just run over to them. "What's going on, guys!!!???"
Jonathan is on top of Cam, who is having a crying fit on the ground, face down. Jonas is against the wall, sleeping.
"Jonathan fell on meeee!!!" Cam yells, slamming his fists on the ground.
"Bernier, get off of him," Martin snaps.
Bernier stood up. "It's not my fault that I lost my grip and fell!" He crosses his arms.
"You crawled right above me!!! You did it on purpose!!!" Cam sat up with raising his tear-streaked face straight at Bernier; he makes a pouty look.
"But this is the first time I ever fell like this!" Bernier throws his hands in the air.
"I think I have an explanation why you fell," Martin starts, "because I couldn't teleport to you guys."
"Wha? You can't teleport?" Cam's brown eyes widen.
"Well, can you create wind?"
"Ummm..." Cam extends his hand out and tries to create a nice breeze, but nothing happen. "Oh no...oh no..." He places his face on his hands. "I DON'T HAVE MY POWERS!!!" He begins sobbing.
"Not only you, Ward, but also the rest of the NHL players with powers. Howard stole the Cup, not because he couldn't wait for the playoffs to end to win it, but because he knows what the Cup is capable of: it has control over the powers here in the NHL. So now that the Cup's in Howard's hands...he has control over our powers now...and he took 'em...away."

Notes