That night is game night: Pittsburgh Penguins versus New York Islanders. John is strolling down the hallway of the back of the arena to get to his locker room. He seems calm and collected in his formal attire of a suit and tie. Yet his anxiety is exposed once he passes by the visitor’s locker room.

Coach Johnston is by the door on the phone. “Our defence is lacking,” he mutters in a gruff tone. "Määttä has been missing for three weeks now.”

John breezes by the room, immersed in his mission of getting into the locker room. Once Coach Johnston’s sentences cut into John’s thoughts, he freezes in his tracks. His eyes fly open. He then backs up, peering into the locker room.

Sure enough, there is an empty Määttä stall in between two occupied stalls.

John pulls himself behind the wall, next to the doorway of the locker room. ”So that's who the irreproachable bystander was,” he murmurs to himself with knitted eyebrows. “I conjectured what betide him.”

With a sigh, he resumes his trek to his locker room. Along the way, he crosses paths with teenager, who is wearing a suit and tie. In one of his hands is a hockey bag; in his other hand is a white, fluffy cat with brilliant, round blue eyes.

John stares skeptically at the teenager with the cat coming up to him. He then recognizes the cat and immediately makes the connection.

“Excuse me, kid.” John steps up to the teenager’s side, halting him in place. “What are you doing here and where did you get that cat?”

“I’m here to play against you and this is my cat.” The “teenager,” Beau, holds up this cat, Spikey.

Spikey’s eyes narrow when they land on John’s inquiring expression. Tavares...so we meet again… All that comes out is a low growling sound.

“Where did you find that cat?” John points to Spikey.

“I have a game to play because I’m a professional hockey player.” Beau pulls up his player’s badge from underneath his shirt and flashes it at John. He then swaggers past him with Spikey.

John turns around and follows Beau with his eyes until he disappears into the visitor’s locker room.

“I must find a way to obtain that cat,” he says to himself gravely.

---

The pregame is underway in the Barclays Center. The Penguins are on their side of the ice while the Islanders are on the other half of the ice practicing. On the Islanders’ side of the ice, Kyle Okposo, the alternate captain of the team, is looking out at the ice from the bench warily. It is obvious that he is searching for someone among the crowd.

Jack Capuano, the head coach of the Islanders, halts next to Kyle in the bench.

He leans forward with his hands clasped behind his back. “Where’s Tavares?” he asks him
.
Kyle peers behind his shoulder to face his coach. “I don’t know, coach,” he replies. “That’s whom I’m searching for.”

“Hm…” Coach Capuano straightens up. “Well, he better be here before the game. We need our captain.”

“Yes, we do.” Kyle then heads out on the ice.

John is still in the arena, but he is not on the ice, exactly. He is sidling into the visitor’s locker room with his full equipment on, minus the helmet and gloves. In his hands though is the power negating gun. Except its purpose is not to negate power players’ powers-- It’s to negate powers that turn people into cats! Like in Olli’s case.

From the doorway, John scans the room carefully. He then spots the white fluffy cat perched in Olli’s stall.

He smiles. Yes, there he is.

Spikey immediately catches John in his sight. Tavares… He makes the growling sound again.

“Now, now,” John begins to say in a coaxing voice as he approaches him slowly, “I am not going to maltreat you in any scheme. I am here to restore you, transmute you into Määttä.” He halts in front of the cat.

Spikey still has his crazy eyes glued on the captain.

John turns on his gun and aims it at him. “Just hold transfix.”

Then he releases the trigger.

---

The game is now underway! Penguins and Islanders are at it in the first period with John back on the ice.

Yet the action is on the bench…

“Alright, Bennett, this is your lineup!” Coach Johnston barks. “Let’s go!”

In front of the coach is Beau. He is not in his sunshine mood: His gloved-hands are covering his face and he is letting out groans of despair. “Coach…,” he wails, “...I can’t…!”

Coach Johnston peers down at his player with a puzzled look. “Why not? You got your toothbrush back. Get on out there!”

“It’s not my toothbrush this time, coach…!” Beau pulls down his gloves to face his coach. His eyes are watering with his nose and cheeks growing red. “It’s my...it’s my...it’s my cat...!” He then stuffs his face into his gloves and begins to bawl on the bench.

Meanwhile up in the reporter’s booth, the reporters are a bit confused.

“There appears to be a Penguin having a breakdown on the bench,” one of the reporters announces. “Number nineteen.” He turns to his reporting partner. “Do we have a name on this guy?”

The other reporter flips through his clipboard then shrugs. “Hm, must be a rookie.” He peers down through the glass. “Did you see that move from Crosby?! Look at him go!”

“He’s on the bench.”

The camera shows Sidney plopped in the bench between Evgeni and Chris.

“Did you see that move from Crosby on the bench?!”

The camera then turns back to the ice, where Beau is finally on the ice. Yet he is playing mightily slowly and sluggishly.

---

The first period then winds down, giving the Islanders a massive head start to the game: 0-6, Islanders!

The Penguins solemnly lumber to the locker room. When they enter, they receive the biggest surprise yet:

Olli himself, as a human, is by his stall, pulling the Penguins’ away jersey over his chest padding.

Chris is the first one to react. “Olli! Hey!”

“Olli Olli Olli Olli Olli Olli Olli Olli Olli Olli!!!” Brandon shouts out rapidly.

“Hey, you’re back!” Pascal exclaims.

Kris fist-bumps his defensive partner. “How did you get here?”

A smile than can be easily mistaken as a sly smirk grows on Olli’s face “Secret receep,” he replies in his Finnish accent.

Beau bursts into the locker room. “Where’s my cat?!” he cries out in desperation.

Olli shrugs. “I don’t know, Beau!”

Beau shouts to the whole team: “Have you seen my cat?!”

Evgeni enters the room with his right hand behind the door. “Are you looking for his cat?” He fully enters the room, leading Rozi, his pet tiger, by the leash.

Everyone’s eyes fly open with pure terror. “NO! NOT THE TIGER, NOT THE TIGER!”

Brandon stares at the scene with excitement. “Cool! It’s a circus!” He rushes to the radio and presses a few buttons. Then “Uptown Funk” by Mark Ronson ft. Bruno Mars begins to blare through the speakers.

So does chaos.

Everyone is trying to escape from Rozi, who is doing absolutely no harm (if you consider sleeping not harmful, that is), while Beau is searching for Spikey, and Brandon is boogying to the song.

Coach Johnston then bursts into the room. He halts in his tracks at the sight of his team. “Guys!” he bellows over the screaming and the music. “We still have two periods left and we’re not even on the board but are down by six! Why are we celebrating this?!”

The two same reporters find their way into the room. They have their microphones in their hands and cameraman Scott behind them.

“Look at those dance moves by Sidney Crosby!” The second reporter announces, pointing deeper into the crazy room.

“He’s sitting on the bench,” the other reporter points out flatly.

Sure enough, next to the reporters is Sidney’s stall. Right below the nameplate is Sidney with crossed arms and a grumpy look.

“Look at those dance moves by Sidney Crosby!” The second reporters exclaims happily, pointing at Sidney.

Scott puts the camera close to Sidney’s face.

“Excuse me,” Sidney begins to say with a miffed tone, “can you get that camera out of my face? I thought postgame interviews were POSTgame.”

He then pulls Bubby up to him and whispers into his ear: “Those are evil people, Bubby.” He gives the media people a glare as he moves Bubby’s head up and down in agreement.

In the corner of the room, Marc-André is lounging on his phone while chewing bubblegum with his cap backwards on his head.

“We would be so much better if I was in the net. Look at these stats.” He holds out his hand at his phone’s screen, which is displaying Tomáš Vokoun’s stats. “I’m much better than Vokoun.”

Patric Hörnqvist pops up next to Marc-André. “Yeah! If he was here, that worm-headed stuffed monkey sack he is!”

With anger that someone else razzed Tomáš, Marc-André begins to chase after Patric with his goalie stick around the already wild room.

The room is so rowdy that the Islanders can hear the music and yells pulsing from the visitor’s locker room.

Kyle is sitting in his stall next to John with a bewildered expression. “What is going on over there? Didn’t we just play one period?”

“Sounds like Clutterbuck…” John eyes Cal Clutterbuck, who is in his stall next to the captain.

Cal perks up from taping his stick. He has excitement in his eyes. “Hey! I should go join them!” He then pulls out his set of keys and begins jingling them to a rhythmic tune.

“Oh no, where we go again,” Brock Nelson mutters to himself.

Anders Lee’s eyes light up. “Ooo, I can jingle keys too!” He pulls out his set of keys and begins shaking them with Cal. He then turns to Matt Martin, who is sitting next to him. “Hey, you wanna join?”

Matt is too busy brushing his long blond locks.

“Yeah…,” John mutters, beginning to get annoyed by the clanking of the keys. “...maybe you should...”

---

So the games resumes, this time with Olli. Everyone on the Penguins are happy that their star defenceman is back. Even Beau, although he is depressed due to the lose of his cat.

---

After the game, the score turns out to be 7-6, Penguins’ win.

John is still fuming over the lose as he exits the locker room in his suit and tie. He storms down the hallway, toward the back exit of the building when something crosses his mind.

He gasps. “My power negating firearm!” He pats his sides and legs. “Oh no, whereabouts did I deposit it?” He swooshes himself around his surroundings, like as if it would be laying around the hallway.

He shakes his head. “Oh no, no, no, nary a soul can obtain it! He begins to trace his steps with large strides, hoping to find his gun before anyone else does.

He passes by the visitor’s locker room with a quick glance to not raise skepticism among the opposing team.

Before he can reach his locker room, he hears Olli’s voice from behind him saying: “Are you looking for this?”

John freezes in his tracks with eyes as wide as hockey pucks. He then slowly turns around on his heels to come face-to-face with Olli.

In Olli’s hand is his power-negating gun.

John lets out a sigh of relief. At least the one he used the gun on is the one who has it.
He begins to make his way to him. “Thank you for obtaining my firearm!”

Olli aims the gun at John, causing him to stop in his steps again.

John stares at Olli, then at his gun, then back at Olli with trepidation. “What are you executing?”

“You turned me into a cat. I hated it. Now I’m going to turn you into a cat. And you’ll know what I went through.”

“No, no, no, no, no, I perpetrated it by calamity, I am very much contrite, I ask for a pardon, I’ll expiate what I perpetrated upon you in whichever method, just please don’t--”

John then collects himself, finding a way to talk Olli out of his revenge plan. “You cannot so much as transmute me into a feline with that firearm.”

“Yes, I can,” Olli replies cockily. “I found the secret receep. I changed the setting.”

“Darn Finns and their astute!” John growls between gritted teeth with his eyes on the ground.
He peers back up at Olli. “Just permit me to expiate what I perpetrated--”

“Nope.” Then Olli pulls the trigger.

John disappears in a flash of white light.

“John?” a lady’s voice is heard from behind Olli.

Olli turns around to see Autumn, John’s girlfriend, approaching him.

“Excuse me.” Autumn strolls over to Olli. “Do you have knowledge of John Tavares’s whereabouts?”

“Yeah.” Olli points toward the ground’s direction. “Right there.”

Autumn’s eyes drift down, following Olli’s index finger’s direction. Once she sees what he is referring to, her eyes fly open.

Standing upright with a frighten look is a short haired brown-coloured cat with dark brown stripes and a white patch on his chest in the shape of an upside-down teardrop; its eyes are the same colour as John’s eyes.

“John?” Autumn gawks at the cat. “You turned yourself into a cat?!”

John the cat lets out a pitiful meow: “Meooooow…”

Autumn groans. “You have got to exterminate that firearm.” She bends over and scoops him into her arms. “Great. Now I ought to restore you.”

The cat reaches its paw out at the power negating gun that is cradled in Olli’s arms. He lets out a series of “meow”s.

“Oh, this is the firearm--?”

“This is my gun,” Olli replies, clutching it closer to him. “Get your own.”

John begins to let out low rolls of growls.

Olli gives the two a proud smile. “Good night!” He then struts off with the gun.

Autumn peers down at the cat. “Oh John...wherefore do I--” She halts in her sentence as her face begins to tense. “Ah! Ah! Ah--! AH-CHOO!” She throws her head forward as she sneezes harshly.

She then straightens up and then breathes in. “Ugh, my allergies.” She wipes her watery eyes against her shoulder as best as she could. “I’m allergic to cats-- AH-CHOO!” Her umber hair flies into her face.

“Let us proceed into the automobile AH-CHOO!” She quickly spins around and sprints out of the arena while emitting a row of sneezes.

In her arms, John is not too happy. How come, Määttä? How come do I oblige to atone you in this process?

From his car, Olli spots Autumn running with John in her arms. He smiles triumphantly. “Koskaan käännyt ketään kissoja ikinä.” Never will you turn anyone into cats ever again.

He then slides the gun into the car before himself and drives off.

Notes