AAOOOSC!: The Mission

A few minutes later, the two men land in front of a one-story house in the middle of a neighbourhood. Toews follow the silhouette through the walkway and up the porch and into his house.
The inside of the house looks like an elderly person is living in there. On the other side of the room is a sliding door that leads to the backyard. To the left of the room, against the wall and still on the other side is a red sofa that looks like it belonged to black and white TV show set. Next to the sofa, closer to the sidedoor was a circular, wooden night table that holds a lamp, that looked like it belongs to the Titanic, and an old radio that looks like it jumped out straight from a history book. In front of the sofa is a low coffee table that had piles of newspapers scattered on top of it and below it. In the midst of the newspapers is an old, boxed antenna TV.
Closer to Toews still on the left side is the kitchen, which is in the same room as the living room, but was cut off to show the boundaries by a wooden counter top. The stove and fridge are on the same wall as the front door and the rest of the kitchen appliances are on the left wall. On the right of Toews, right next to him, is a oval-shaped mirror. Then on the same wall, between the kitchen and the living room is an opening to a hallway, which leads to the bathrooms and bedrooms. The floor is carpet and the wallpaper was patterned with warm colours and diamonds and flowers. And on the ceiling was an old fan with fancy bulb covers and wooden 'wings.'
"Is this...your house?" Toews asks while gawking at it.
"Indeed it is." His rescuer turns around, facing him with a huge smile on his face.
Now Toews is able to see who saved him since he is now in a well-lit room.
The man is a few inches shorter than him with short brown hair that is combed, yet had a few hairs sticking out here and there. He has warm brown eyes and some facial hair, like as if he hadn't shaved in two weeks or so. And he has a cocky look. He is wearing a long sleeve, white shirt with buttons that go mid-way down his shirt along with jeans and a belt.
Toews immediate recognizes him. "Tavares?"
"Don't...don't call me my last name." He shakes his head with closed eyes and pursed lips. "Call me John."
"What are you doing saving me? How do you know I was in there? How did you just fly me over to your house? We're on different teams, you aren't suppose to save me--?"
"Sh, sh, sh, sh, sh..." John makes a hand motion for Toews to stop talking. "I'll help you decipher all that is going on because you appear so confounded right now." He turns around and beings heading in to his living room.
Toews follows up behind him closing the door. "Can you please talk English?"
John turns around on his heels, facing the Blackhawk. "I am speaking English...unless I'm speaking another language obliviously--"
"Ah! There you go again!" Toews extends his hand out towards the Islander. "You using words I didn't even know existed!"
"Oh... You're bickering about my vocabulary, eh? You're just gonna have to deal with it, pal." John pats Toews's shoulder and sits down on sofa. "Settle." He pats on the cushioning next to him.
"Sit there?" Toews tries to translate.
"Correct." He pulls his hand close to him.
Toews sits next to John.
"You yearning for something to drink?"
"Whatcha have?"
"What had I acquired to drink?" John gets up. "I'll show you what I call a drink, kid." He saunters into the living room, grabs two glass bottles, one with a brown lable and the other with a green label, two glass cups, comes back, and sets them onto of the scattered newspapers, which Toews finds out they are typed in different languages. John sit back down and grabs the brown-labeled glass bottle.
"What's that?" Toews asks.
"The drink I have to offer: almondade!" He raises the glass in the air. "This is the original one, and the other bottle is mint with licorice! There is also a coconut flavoured one, but I ran out of that." He puts the original bottle down and holds up the green-labled glass.
"Almondade? Like lemonade, except made with almonds instead of lemons?"
"Indeed. You can also address it as 'almond water,' but I prefer 'almondade.'"
"Does it even taste good?"
"Why the heck would I obtain something that is abhorrent in taste? This drink here has a piquant, yet nectarous taste that is absolutely invigorating!"
Toews just gawks at John. "So it's good."
"Correct, kid."
"Why do you keep on calling me that?"
John twists the metal cap open and beings serving the almondade. "Address you as what?"
"As like 'kid' and 'Tazer boy.' Why?"
John shrugs. "Maybe because that is how I delineate you." He puts the bottle down and hands a glass cup over to Toews.
"You can just call me by my first name, y'know."
"Yes, yes, I am truly aware of you having a first name, but I'll only address by that when I am infuriated."
"You'll only call me 'Jonathan' when you're what?"
"Infuriated."
"What?"
"Full of ire."
"What?"
"Distraught."
"Speak English!!!"
"When I'm mad, Jonathan, mad!!!" John shouts at the table.
"Thank you!" Toews lays back on the sofa with a sigh of relief.
"Goodness, I had to elapsed to primary school so that you can comprehend what I'm orating." John points to his head.
"I just don't want to misunderstand what you're saying."
"Well, it would be awfully terrible if you misconstrued my speaking." John takes a sip of his almondade. "You should try this, kid."
Toews looks into his glass, seeing the clear liquid inside it. "Don't worry, I'll." He looks back up at John. "But I have some questions for you..."
"Alright, bring forth your questions." The captain of the Islanders nods his head at the captain of the Blackhawks.
"First off, why did you save me? How did you know I was in there? And...why did you bring me to your house? It would've been nicer if you would've brought me to my house..."
"Well, I have my ways, smalls. And I'll put this in plain English for you, okay?"
"That'd be really nice."
"Good. I just don't want to iterate my reply again. Alright, here it goes..." John clears his throat and takes another sip of almondade. "I think you are fully aware that power players want you--hockey players with powers want you. Why? Because you have powers--"
"But I don't have powers!"
"SHHH!!!" John snaps, giving Toews a signal to shut up. "Don't inject my conversing!"
Toews slumps lower into the sofa. "Don't interrupt."
John sighs heavily. "Yes."
"Okay."
"Let me recommence. So power players want you because of your powers. They have powers, so why do they want your powers? Because of what you are capable of doing with them. You have more power than any power player out there--more than any Master of any group out there! You practically have the power to control the NHL. And that's why they want you--so they they can take advantage of you and let you control the NHL to their liking. Because who can stop them? You can. But if you're on their side, then you'll help them out, doing whatever they want you to do with the NHL. They hate a team? Take 'em out! Want the Stanley Cup Playoffs to come soon? Speed up the time! Want to manipulate a game's outcome even though it already happened? So do it! How? By your powers!
"That's why you're being tracked down, that's why you're wanted: because of your power. And who wants your power specifically? The GHP and EHP. The EHP wants you so that they can keep the NHL in their possession forever since you would be with them. The GHP wants you so that they can defeat the EHP with you, since there's no other way to beat them. You understand?"
"Yes..."
"Good. So that's just the general overview of how you got into the position you're in. Now for your questions: how did I know where you were at? I have my ways, kid.
"And why did I save you? Because I don't want you to be the knot of the rope in the 'tug-a-war' fight going on between those two societies. I have plans for you to make you know how to use those powers of your's and you'll be able to make the NHL the way it's suppose to be and trust me, by my plans, all of this chaos will be gone by no time. So I'll practically be your mentor, teaching you how to control and use your powers and how we can use them to stop this fight between the EHP and GHP.
"And why did I take you to my house instead of your's? Well I have three reasons why: one, so that you won't be on your own, since you'll be kidnapped again that way; two, because no one will suspect that you're here with me, so no one who wants you will be barging in; and three, your house is of farther distance than mine. Does that answer your questions?"
"Yes...but what if I don't want to use my powers? What if I don't believe that I have powers?"
"You do obtain powers, kid. You just gotta surmise that you do."
"Look--" Toews abruptly stands up, positioning his gaze at John. "I just want to get away from all of this craziness and go back home, just like how it was before. I'm sick of people telling me that I have powers because that's not true! I don't! So stop telling me all these lies and take me back home!" His eyes are beginning to tear up.
John sighs. "Let me tell you a story about a young boy named John."
Toews gives the Islander a puzzled look.
"There once was a young boy named John. Now John was a regular kid, went to school, had very good grades, had a great family, played hockey...life was normal for him. But then one day he was mad...very mad...because he gave away the chance for his team to make it to the championship. And when he was in his room after that, full of ire, the blue skies turned gray and it began to pour with thunder and lightning. Now this is in the summertime, smalls--there ain't suppose to be thunder storms in the summertime. But there was.
"Now John saw what was going on outside his window and his anger was washed away by bewilderment. And when all his anger was replaced by confusion, the storm faded away, leaving an awfully cloudy sky. Now this was starting to freak poor young John out. And John began to grow scared because the weather was reflecting his emotions. Then strong gusts of wind began to accompany the clouds. Millions of thoughts were running through John's mind of what was going on... Then he tried on thing: he thought of bright, blue skies. And like that, the clouds parted and the sun came out, dissolving all the clouds into nothing.
"Then this young boy named John came to a conclusion: he was able to manipulate the weather. But hated that. He hated fiction. He thought powers were fictional and now he obtains them. So he puts his powers aside and pretends that he doesn't have any powers. But that was hard, very hard for him... Especially when his emotions grew stronger, since that made his powers stronger. He wreaked his house many times, trying to find excuses of how water came into his house or phow the living room looked like a tornado was let loose in there or how there was fog in his bedroom or how there was fire in the bathroom.
"It was hard, but he did his best to not say a word about his powers. And he hated it. He couldn't control his powers. He destroyed so many objects with them and confused people by manipulating the weather. He wished he was able to learn how to control them, but he was never able to because he was so afraid of them and what people would say about them. So he just put them away...hoping no one will see them. And that's the story of a young boy named John."
Toews was now sitting back down on the sofa. "Are you that young boy named John?"
John closed his eyes and nodded. "Indeed, I am." He opens his eyes.
"Why did you tell me that story?"
"To make it known to you that if you don't accept the fact that you possess powers and in reality you do...you'll do harmful things you have no control over due to the fact that you didn't have proper training. Tazer boy, I swear, I hit my head on the wall multiple times a day because I was doltish enough to not look for help and ways to restrain my powers. If I searched for aid for my powers, I could've saved many things I had destroyed and harmed. The last thing that I want for you to go through the same thing I went through. So that's why I want to help you find what you're specifically capable of and start training you to use and control your powers properly."
"What if I don't have powers and this was all a mistake?"
"So be it. But I doubt that's the case."
"Why did you discover your powers when you were so young but not me?"
"Eh, it depends on the person and the type of powers they have. Like the more power one person has, the longer it takes for them to discover them. And usually people with powers discover their powers in turmoil, during a harsh situation. But in due time, we'll find your supernatural capabilities." John winks. "Capiche?"
Toews sighs. "Alright, I understand."
"Good." John raises his glass full of almondade. "To Tazer boy, who is going to find out his extraordinary powers to keep the NHL sane! Cheers!"
Toews raises his glass in the air as well. "Err...cheers...!"
They clink their glasses and drink the sweet drink.
"Mmm!" John puts down his glass. "Never gets old."
"Aiy, gosh--this tastes like cough medicine!" Toews grimaces at the glass.
"Your taste buds are not up to par for this exquisite and fine beverage."
Toews shoots John a grave look.
"I'm joking!" John slaps the Blackhawk in the back. "Take a joke light, will ya?!"
"They don't call me Captain Serious for nothing."
"True, kid, true." John calms down.
"How old are you? Because you've got to be older to call me 'kid' and 'smalls.'"
"I'm twenty-three; gonna turn twenty-four in September. Look good for my age, eh?" John runs his fingers through his hair with a smirk.
"Not when I'm older than you and you're calling me 'kid' and 'smalls.'"
"Deal with it, Tazer boy, I gonna continue addressing you those names. You'll adjust to it, trust me."
"And I bet I'm taller than you, so..."
"I informed you about this already, I'm not gonna stop addressing you by those names...!"
"Can I call you 'smalls' and 'kid' as well?"
"No, because I'll be your mentor now for the next few days, aiding you with your powers; I have higher authority than you."
"Hm. Fine, I'll deal with it."
"Good. Like to hear that."

Notes