Toews finds himself standing in the middle of a dark room that is suppose to be Tommy's office, which reminds him of a basement.

He looks around his surroundings in a confused fashion, trying to find the Stanley Cup.
But he is a bit too late.

The doors of the entrance of the underground room burst open and those same four guys Toews encountered when he first went back in time entered the room, giving off a sinister vibe.
Toews just stands there, unable to move.

"Qui es-tu?" the tallest guy asks him. (Who are you?)

"Euhhhhh..." Toews knows that he has to find the Cup and hide it, but the guys arrived and he still couldn't find it. "Vous pouvez...laisser...oui..." (You guys should leave...yeah...)

The other guy with the sharp facial features burst into laughter. "Et que peux-tu faire?" He turn to the two shorter guys. "Aller chercher ce que nous sommes venus ici pour." (And what can you do? Go find what we came here for).

The two guys nod and breeze past the frozen Blackhawk. They go over to Tommy's wooden desk and slip under it; they then stand back up, carrying a silver punch bowl, and saunter over to the other two.

The tallest looks at the bowl, then straight at Toews. "Merci de ta collaboration." He then exits the room with the others. (Thank you for your cooperation)

"Qu-qu--" (Wh-wh)

Suddenly, Toews feels a strange force pulling him back as the scenery blurred into something more brighter.

He blinks his eyes opened, gazing at the light bulbs that are illuminating the room he ends up in. He sits up on the orange sofa, looking around Tommy's office.

"What happened?" he hears Tommy asking him.

Toews turns his head to the left, seeing Tommy round the sofa to get closer to him.
"Uh...I...I couldn't find the Cup."

"And..." The founder of the NHL nods his head, signalling Toews to continue.

"And those same French guys came along and they got away with a...punch bowl?" Toews makes a confounded look. "Why a punch bowl?"

"Was it silver coloured?"

"Yeah."

"Well..." Tommy sits next to the captain of the Blackhawks. "..that punch bowl they got away with happens to be the Stanley Cup."

"What?" Toews's eyes widen. "That's not how the Stanley Cup looks like! It's tall! And can be pretty heavy! It's not a bowl!"

"Well, I see that the Cup gets some updates then, eh?"

"Uh, yea, like big time!" Toews told the wall in front of him. He turns to Tommy. "But I had a hard time lookin' for it--no wonder I couldn't find it! I didn't even know it looked like that!"

"Well, now you know..." Tommy nods his head. "Now that you know about the Stanley Cup being a punch bowl, why don't you try again and stop those guys from getting it...with your powers."

Toews stares at the wooden coffee table that is in front of him. "With my powers?"

"Yes, with the powers I bestowed you with." He placed a hand on Toews's shoulder. "You are already using them to time travel..."

"Yeah..."

"...so use them in an offensive matter to save the NHL. Okay? You want to accomplish this mission right?"

Toews looks up to Tommy. "Yeah, of course!"

"So do what you must do then. You can do it." He shakes his shoulder then slips his hand off from it. "Now try again and don't put your powers to waste."

Toews stands up. "Okay, okay." He takes in a deep breath, trying to feel that strange, warm feeling he gets whenever he time travels back in time.

"December twenty-fourth, nineteen seventeen," Tommy reminded him.

"December twenty-fourth...nineteen seventeen..." Toews mutters under his breath.
He then snaps his eyes opened.

Toews finds himself in the same exact place he last time travelled to. "Find the punch bowl," he muttered to himself.

He turns around, seeing Tommy's empty desk behind him. He rushes over to it, goes on his knees and cranes his head, spotting the bowl in the way back of the desk. He reaches his hands towards it and feels it's cold, metallic, smooth side of it; he pulls it out and wraps it around his left arm against his upper body. "Now to hi--"

"Qui es-tu‽" a familiar voice booms from behind him. (Who are you‽)

Toews's heart stops for a moment. "Oh shoot." He couldn't leave the bowl on the desk and he couldn't stand up or else they would surely see it.

He then feels a rough hand on his shoulder sharply pulling it from behind, forcing him to turn around and face them, revealing the Stanley Cup to them.

"Il a le bol!" the tall guy shouts, pointing at Toews. (He has the bowl!)

"NON!!!" Toews automatically stretches his hand straight at him; a golden yellow streak of glowing energy emits from his hand, striking the guy right on his chest; the guy is thrown off from his feet and flies over to the entrance of the room.

"Il a des pouvoirs surnaturels!" one of the short guys points out. (He has supernatural powers!).
"Oui," Toews replies standing up with a serious look. "Et vous les gars mieux ne plaisante pas avec eux."

He places the bowl on the desk top. (Yes. And you guys better not mess with them).

"Cherche le bol!" the guy with the sharp facial features roars. (Get the bowl!).

"N'avez-vous pas entendu ce que j'ai dit juste?" With fury, he sticks both of his hands out at the guy, feeling tons of energy building up in them. (Didn't you hear what I just said‽)

Immediately, the guy who is targeted disappears into thin air.

"Whoa," Toews mutters under his breath.

The tall guy is now sitting up on the ground, staring at where his friend was just standing at a few seconds ago. "Qu'as-tu fait à mon ami?" (What did you do to my friend?)

"Ce déménagement." Toews then extends his hands at him, also making him disappear. (This move)

He then hears clattering from behind him; he turns around, seeing the two short guys with the bowl in their possession.

"Au revoir," one of them says. They then go around Toews and start making their way out of the room as fast as possible with the bowl. (Good-bye!)

"Pas si vite!" He outstretches his hands towards them, making them both vanish into nothingness before they could reach the door. (Not so fast!)

"Là, j'ai utilisé mon superpuissances, et la Coupe Stanley est sûre." He crosses his arms with a proud look. "Attends, où est la Coupe?" He looks behind his shoulder, seeing the empty desk.

"Oh non...ils ont eu la Coupe...je leur ai fait disparaître...et la coupe a disparu aussi. Non, non, non, non, NON!!!" He lets his chronokinetic powers go into action, bringing him back to May of 1918 to Tommy's brilliant office. (There, I used my powers and the Stanley Cup is safe. Wait, where is the Cup? Oh no...they had the Cup...I made them disappear...and the Cup disappeared as well. No, no, no, no, NO!!!)

"The Stanley Cup disappeared on Christmas Eve!" Tommy exclaims as Toews plops himself back on the sofa. "We can't find it still!"

"I made it disappear," Toews says in a monotone voice.

"What?" Tommy walks up to him with a concerned look.

He turns to the leader of the NHL. "I used my powers on those guys and I made them disappear...but one of them already had ahold of the Cup and I made him disappear...also making the Cup...disappear..."

"Oh...you have nihilikinesis..." Tommy sits next to him.

"What? What's that?" Toews makes a disgusted look. "Sounds like a terrible disease."

"It's the power to manipulate nothingness. In other words, the ability to make things nonexistent. So now those guys are nonexistent and so is the Cup."

"So I need to go back again...and get it correct this time, right?"

"Yes." Tommy nods his head. "I know you can do it. You have accepted the fact that you have powers--you can save the NHL with those powers."

"Alright." Toews stands up and closes his eyes, but doesn't feel that same feeling he gets for going back in time. He opens his eyes, finding himself in the same spot he was when he closed his eyes.

"Having some technical difficulties?" Tommy asks.

Toews cranes his head to the left, looking down at Tommy. "I-I-I can't feel my powers."

"You can't-- Oh goodness, I know what's the problem."

"What-what is it?" Toews's eyes fly open.

"Sit down, you're not going anywhere for a while."

He plops himself back on the sofa. "What's going on?"

"The Stanley Cup's gone. That Cup is the source to all the powers of the NHL, including your's. The Cup's gone, the powers are gone. In this case, the Cup's gone...so your powers are gone."

"My powers are gone?!" Toews's jaw drops.

"Yup." Tommy nods his head slowly.

"But how was I able to travel back here when the Cup was gone?"

"Because it takes a few days for the powers to wear off without the Cup's support. You time travelled quickly, so you still had your powers. But now, five months later...your powers are definitely gone."

"So since my powers are gone, I can't go back to the past and the NHL can't be saved and..."
Toews makes a worried look. "...that means that I'm gonna stay here in nineteen eighteen like as if I was meant to be in this time period!" He dips his head into the palms of his hands. "I ruined everything!"

"Now, now, Toews, don't feel bad, there is a solution for this, fortunately." Tommy pats his shoulder.

"Th-there...is?" He peeks his eye out from the side of his hand.

"Yes. See, what makes the Cup capable of attaining powers is the element it's made out of--that element contains the powers that people could use supernaturally."

Toews straightens up with a slightly worried look. "So, we just now need to find this element?"

"Yes. But it's rare. But I know...where to go."

"Where?"

---

Tommy and Toews appear in thin air in the middle of the streets of London, England.

"Whoa, I didn't know you can teleport through bracelets!" Toews exclaims.

"Yup: teleportation bracelet!" Tommy spins the leather watch-like bracelet that is wrapped around his wrist. "It's an invention of mine based from the powers of the Cup... Luckily, it has no connection to it." He looks around the wide town square. "Now, where is that silversmith?"
Tommy begins to walk across the market square.

Toews follows him. "What is that, a silversmith?"

"It's the person who made the Cup." He stops in front of a row of buildings, looking at them with inquiring eyes.

"But why would someone in London make a punch bowl for a hockey league in Canada?"

"Well, it's purpose at first wasn't to be the Stanley Cup, but it was bought into Canada and the NHL, so yeah..." Tommy nods his head at the buildings.

"Aha, here we are!" He steps towards the buildings and opens the door that is in front of him. He steps inside and Toews follows him in.

Inside is your typical sliversmith shop from the early twentieth-century. Shelves of silver crafts lined the walls and in the centre back of the room is a man that looks a bit older than Tommy who working on a piece of silver.

Tommy approached him and cleared his throat. "Hello?"

The man stops working on the chunk of metal and looks up at him. "Ello, there," he greets in a heavy British accent. "What can I do for you lads today?"

"Well, do you remember making a punch bowl..."

"I make plenty of those everyday," the silversmith tells him.

"Yeah, I know, but a punch bowl not made out of silver. I know you made it and I know it wasn't made out of silver. It looks like silver, but it's not silver."

The man puts on a suspicious look. "Are you talking about the secret element I put in that one particular punch bowl that got shipped out to Canada?"

Tommy snaps his finger and points it at him. "Yes, that one! What is it made out of?"

"Exmium. It's a rare element that is esoteric. Where are you going with this?"

"Ummm..." The founder of the NHL makes an anxious look. "...because we need another punch bowl made out of it."

"Oh, you misplaced the other one?"

"Eh, something like that." He bobs his head up and down a bit.

"Okay then, that'll be ten guineas please."

Tommy pulls out a foreign currency and gives it to the silversmith. "There you go."

"Thank you." He puts the money in his small apron and gets up. "I'll be back." He then walks over to a door that is behind him and enters it, leaving the two Canadians behind.

"Okay, ready?"

---

Toews and Tommy are back in Tommy's office back in Ottawa. The punch bowl is back on the desk and Toews already has his powers back.

"Yup!" The Blackhawk nods his head.

"Alright, remember: hide the Cup and drive the guys out so that they won't find the Cup,"
Tommy enunciates.

"Gotcha." Toews closes his eyes and feels the power buzz throughout his body. He opens his eyes, finding himself back in the dark office.

He turns around and grabs the Stanley Cup from beneath the desk. "Now to hide it." He snaps his head around, looking around his surroundings to find a good place to hide it in.

Toews stares up at a high shelf that is above the desk. "Maybe if I--"

Before he could complete his aloud thought, a tough hand grabs ahold of the bowl and rips it out from Toews's grasp.

"HEY!" Toews turns around, seeing the same four guys run off with the bowl. "No! Come back!" He shakes his head and closes his eyes as he tries to gear his mind to French. "REVIENS!!!" (COME BACK!!!)

But they are already out of sight.

"Ugh!" Toews kicks the ground in frustration. "I should've been more quicker! Or just gone back more in time! Or used my powers! He takes in a shaky breath, looking up at the ceiling with hard eyes. "Or this should've never happen and let things go the way I think they are suppose...TO GO!!!" He snaps his head down, looking hard at the ground; he feels his powers rising in him, then settling down.

Toews then feels something hard being placed on his head gently. He makes a confused look at the ground, which is now a royal purple carpet instead of it's regular dark gray concrete floor.
"Jonathan Toews..." Tommy's voice calls out from in front of him. "...ruler of the NHL!"

Toews's eyes widen at the ground. "What‽" He snaps his head up, immediately finding out that he's no longer in Gorman's office, but inside a church, standing between in Gorman and the aisle, in the front of the interior.

He turns around with a shocked look, seeing all the rows of pews on each side of the church filled with all the NHL players he knows from his team to his rivals to other teammates from teams that he barely plays against; every single one of them are cheering and clapping for him.

Toews looks down at himself, finding that he was wearing black attire and a infra red-coloured royal robe with the fluffy white edges and black spots that seemed like it belonged to a king; he gazes back up at the sunlit audience area of the church.

"What...is going on?" he asks under his breath

Notes