AAOOOSC! Future!

Back in New York in the NHL Basement, Tommy is working on his big computer, cleaning up the mess the League Leaders made with their robot project. From the looks of it, the founder of the NHL had no say in the project, most likely because he was stuck in the Eiffel Tower while it was being made, approved, and launched by others.

Loud clacking sounds of Tommy’s typing can be heard as Sidney is waiting eagerly behind the founder for the result of the project. Connor is standing next to to the Penguin with the exact opposite expression. He has a frown on his face with lowered eyebrows, like as if he wanted to be anywhere else but in the NHL basement, which is where he is at the moment.

“Sid,” Connor starts, shaking his arm to grab his attention since Sidney is holding onto his arm.
“Can we get outta here?”

Sidney looks up at him. “Wait, I wanna see what Tommy says about this!”

“I’d rather hear it on the news…” He nods toward the direction of the elevator, which is located behind them. “Let’s go.”

Sidney stays put with a strong grasp, causing Connor to also stay in his place. “Why do you want to leave?” the Penguin asks, tilting his head to aside with curiosity arising.

The Oiler makes a grumpy look at Tommy's back. “It’s something personal...rather not say it.”

“But I thought we were friends--friends tell each other everything…!” Sidney points out.

Connor lets out a burst of nervous laughter. “I don’t think we’re on that level yet, Sid.” He gazes down at him. “You know what? Let me leave and you can stay and once you get the results from him, you can come back to my place. How’s that?”

“No, I want you to be with me! Hear the news together…!”

The Oiler rolls his eyes with an intense, miffed expression. He sighs and looks to his right, staring at the orange, patched-up sofa and other furniture in that direction.

“Tommy, are you almost done?” Sidney asks, leaning to his left to get a good, full glimpse of the huge computer screen looming over Tommy and them.

“Yes, yes, hold up a moment,” the founder of the NHL pipes in, not budging to turn around to face them.

The Penguin notices that on one side of the screen is a document filled with many words, where Tommy is typing. On the other side of the screen is a video of what seemed like horse races.

He knits his eyebrows and puckers his lips. “Are those horse races you’re watching?”

“Oh, what?” Tommy immediately minimizes the window of the video and spins around in the swivel chair to face the two hockey players. “No, no, that was just a video of…”

The two hockey players are now shooting the founder of the NHL flat looks.

“Okay, so I was watch horse races!” He throws his hands up into the air. “I did miss a few years of horse races, so you can’t blame me for watching them while doing this…” He turns back around and the clacking of the keys resume.

“You actually like horses?” Sidney asks with raised eyebrows.

“I love horses! I used to ride them back in the good ol’ days!” Tommy smiles at the memories. “I hope that I can build a stable here or somewhere where I can have access to. But my, would it stink if I have a couple of horses in here!” He frowns while staring up at the screen. “But one day I’ll get my horses again.” He continues typing.

“If you did horseback riding, how the heck did you have time for hockey?” Connor questions with a stern expression.

“I never played hockey,” the founder of the NHL says matter-of-factly. “I did coach and manage teams, but never played.”

Connor and Sidney’s jaws drop and they stare at each other with shocked looks.

“You’ve never played hockey?” Sidney squeaks out with wide eyes.

“Never had, never will.” Tommy continues typing. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to manage a hockey team or two. Or a whole hockey league.”

“But how did you have time to manage hockey teams with horseback riding?” Connor asks, shaking his hands in a shrugging position.

“I actually left the league just for the sake of horseback riding,” Tommy replies. “But then I had to come back because apparently, the league couldn’t function without me.” He sighs his shakes his head. “Like right now.” He then hits one final button and spins around to face the two hockey players. “It is official: You guys have your jobs back!”

“YAY!” Sidney jumps into the air, hovering a bit while springs of icy air swirled out from the palms of his hands.

“Yes.” Connor pumps his fist by pulling his arm to his side with a fist.

The Penguin lands and holds out his hand toward the Oiler. “High-five!”

Connor smacks his hand, giving him a high-five.

“Yeah!” Sidney keeps his hand in the same position.

He gives him an odd look and weakly smacks his hand.

“Yeah…!” His hand is still in the air.

He lightly touches his hand.

“Yeah…?”

Connor lowers his hand down. “One high-five is enough.”

“Awww…” Sidney frowns and dips his hand. “It was more fun with Nathan,” he mumbles to himself.

The elevator doors slide open and John comes scrambling into the room.

He halts in between the hockey players and the founder of the NHL, looking like he just ran a mile or two. “I bear an announcement, I must apprise you it,” he pants out, leaning over, placing his hands on his lap.

“Wow, John, when was the last time you ran?” Sidney asks, shooting him an odd look.

The retired Islander ignores the Penguin’s comment. “The League Leaders--they’re-they’re endeavouring to-to relaunch...Project...Removal…” He straights up and lets out a strained groan, staring up at the ceiling.

Tommy immediately makes an aghast expression. “No…!”

Sidney and Connor exchange looks. “What’s that?” Sidney asks.

John gazes at the two hockey players with a grave look. “It’s the prospective end of the NHL as we know it...and the only scheme to terminate it is by the powers of the right hand ruler of the NHL--” He narrows his eyes at the Oiler, trying to conceal his disdain with determination. “--McDavid.”

Notes