Before you read:
Listen to this score when you read the sentence: "Brandon stumbles into a large, vacant conference room."

---

Meanwhile, Dustin is striding down the hallway of an office building. To his left is a large window showing the pure, blue sky; to his right is a tan-coloured wall lined with brown doors; below his feet is a brown carpet.

In his grasp is Brandon with his hand wrapped tightly around his wrist while dragging him roughly.

Brandon, on the other hand, is writhing in his grasp, yanking at the firm grip he is in. “Let go! Let go of me!” he grunts. “What are you gonna do with me?”

“Nothing, nothing painful,” Dustin replies smoothly, containing his composure. “I’m not going to torture you or anything. A close friend just wants to have a nice little chat with you.”

“Who?”

He raises his eyes up along with his eyebrows. “Oh, you know him quite well.” He slides his eyes back to peer at his hostage. “You’ll see him.”

“Who?” Brandon snaps, lowering his eyebrows. “Bryan? Joe? You took 'em, didn’t you?”

“No, no, someone much closer.” Dustin then halts in front of the door situated at the end of the hallway.

With his now free hand, he opens the door, then turns to gaze at his captive. “Now go in there and wait— He’ll be right with you in a moment.” He pushes him inside harshly and closes the door on him.

Brandon stumbles into a large, vacant conference room. He gazes around his surroundings: A rectangular conference table in the middle, surrounded by swivel chairs; a window to his right, taking up the entire right wall; the colours of the wall and carpet the same as the hallway.

With a sigh, Brandon ambles across the room toward the clear window. He halts in front of it and stares ahead, spotting the crystal blue skies beyond the reflection of his face. He then lowers his head down, spotting that the sky is endless below.

With a hint of fear, he raises his head back up, his thoughts scrambling as to where on earth he is. Yet his thoughts halt as he spots his full reflection: Instead of his forties double-breasted suit and Joseph’s fedora, he is now wearing a black modern business suit with his messy, voluminous brown hair revealed.

He peers down at himself, noticing what he saw on the reflection is indeed true. He adjusts his navy blue tie against the collar of his white, button-up, long-sleeved shirt. He then peers behind his shoulder, spotting the lonely conference table and chairs.

Brandon turns around and steps to the furniture; he takes a seat on the swivel chair, facing his back toward the window and next to the corner. He gazes down at the smooth, immaculate surface of the black table, catching his faint reflection. He takes in a deep breath and leans back with his eyes ahead, placing his hands on the table’s surface.

Immediately, a light blue hologram square with a cyan blue outline pops into view.

Brandon jolts back with wide eyes at the hovering, translucent square. He keeps his eyes locked on the glowing, flat square, waiting for it to make a move.

Yet it stays still, subtly floating above the surface of the table.

With curiosity, Brandon rolls his chair closer to the table, the light of the hologram reflecting from his brown eyes. He warily lifts his hand from his lap and reaches out toward the square.
His fingertips graze the hologram’s electric surface, making him feel a subtle, gritty electric sensation.

He then flicks his hand to the left as an experiment.

The square quickly follows his move, sliding left and disintegrating into pixels of nothing in a split second. Right after, another hologram pops into view.

This hologram is much larger with white squares along with titles decorating it.

With narrowed eyes, he scans through the title of each square, which he assumes are files: Pictures, Documents, Operation Ducks Organization, Letters--

Brandon immediately flicks his eyes back to the previous file. “‘Operation Ducks Organization’?” he mutters under his breath.

With interest, he taps his finger against the pixelated square.

Immediately, another square with a title materializes next to it: Players.

Brandon taps on that square.

Then three new squares appear next to the second square: Anaheim Ducks, San Diego Gulls, Utah Grizzlies.

Brandon’s eyes widen with suspiciousness. He firmly presses on San Diego Gulls.

Right away, the large square swipes out of view. A row of card-shaped rectangles quickly follow, all slightly stacked behind one another with their edges poking out.

Brandon’s gasps at the top hologram card.

The card is displaying Bryan’s smirking headshot with all of his basic information in it. On the last line, are the words: Toronto Maple Leafs - National Hockey League - accepted - accomplished.

Brandon knits his eyebrows at it. “Bryan...is in the...Leafs?” To get rid of the bafflement, he swipes to the next card.

This card has Joe’s smiley headshot, including his basic information. The last words below are: IF Leksands - Swedish Hockey League - accepted - accomplished.

“Joe’s going to Sweden?” Gawking, Brandon pulls up the next card.

This card has the nostalgic headshot of Max including his basic information and the words: Montréal Canadiens - National Hockey League - accepted - accomplished.

Brandon’s jaw drops; he becomes still. “Dustin...traded...Maxi…?” He peers at the other stacked cards he went through. “And he’s trading Joe and Bryan…?” He turns his gaze at the other cards he has not flipped through. “And he wants to trade...more?” His eyes widen at a terrifying thought. “Does he want to trade me?” He reaches his hand toward the cards.

“Like the holograms?” a familiar, dull, deep voice says from behind him.

Brandon immediately gasps and retracts his hand toward himself.

The hologram cards quickly fall, vanishing from sight.

He flicks his eyes ahead, where the door is located, spotting the owner of the voice.

Standing in the doorway is Nick, Brandon’s teammate. He is also wearing a modern business suit just like the hostage, except he has a black tie and a majestic black cloak.

“Ni-Nicky?” Brandon stutters with shock. “Wh-wh-what are you doing here?”

He steps deeper into the room with confidence. “This is my office. I work here.”

Brandon follows him with his eyes; confusion crosses his face. “Doing what?”

He halts across the table from his teammate. “Getting closer to my ultimate dream,” he replies with a dreamy tone.

“I thought your dream was to get into the pros. You’re already in the pros. What more do you want?”

Nick lowers his eyes on him with a soft smile. “My ultimate dream.”

“So there’s your dream and then your ultimate dream…?” Brandon faces the palm of his hand upward.

He flashes him a small grin. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” Brandon pauses as he rattles his mind for a way to clear up the confusion. Then the right question pops into his mind: “What’s your ultimate dream?”

Nick sighs at the thought of the answer, lifting his eyes upward. “It’s a big dream, but I’m getting closer to it with every trade there is.” He clasps his hands in front of his chest. “I want to become the owner of the Anaheim Ducks…and turn it into the Anaheim Ritchies.” He lowers his eyes back down at him. “That’s my dream.”

Brandon is gawking at his teammate. “‘The Anaheim Ritchies’? You’re kidding.”

“No, I really do want it to happen,” he states sternly. “And it is happening soon.”

“Don’t-what-can—” Brandon regains his composure, blurting out: “Do you even know how silly that sounds?”

“It sounds awesome.”

He narrows his eyes at him. “Did you dream of this in one of your pre-lunch naps and decide to do it or…?”

“Pre-dinner nap actually,” Nick replies matter-of-factly.

“Um…” Brandon peers down with pursed lips. “Look, Nicky--” He gazes back up at him. “--I’m glad you’re all for the--” He raises his hands in the air and says in a light voice: “‘--reach high to your dreams because you will succeed--’” He drops his hands and the fake voice. “--but there are times when lines can be crossed and I think this is one of those times.”

“No dream is too high to achieve.” Nick clasps his hands behind his back.

“Ugh…” Brandon runs his hands through his hair, becoming weary that his teammate cannot get his point. “How are you achieving your dream anyway?” he questions in hopes of cornering him.

Nick flicks his small eyes on the gleaming surface of the table. “I think you’ve already seen how.”

Brandon stares at the surface as well. “By trading?” He peers back up at him.

Nick nods his head at him.

He narrows his eyes. “But Dustin trades, not…” His voice fades away as his mind makes the connection.

Nick stares at him.

Brandon gapes at him. “No.”

Nick holds his grave stare.

“No, you didn’t—” He slams his hands against the table, making the holograms glitch in midair for a split second. “YOU TRADED MAXI?!”

“How else do I get my sidekick and get rid of the bully?” Nick asks, holding a hand out from his side. “It’s like breaking two plates with one puck.”

“Your sidekick, the bully—” Brandon shakes his head in pure bewilderment, shooting to his feet. “What the heck are you talking about?!”

“Dustin is helping me achieve my dream,” Nick explains steely. “I needed someone like him to help me out to make it a reality.”

“But why Maxi?” he cries out with massive eyes. “Out of all of the Gulls, why trade the one who cared and helped us?”

Nick shakes his head solemnly. “He didn’t care about me.”

“And who cooked for you while he was around?”

“He didn’t care for me actually.” Nick keeps his frown. “He just did it to look good.”

“Maxi cared about EVERYONE. How would he not care about you?” He extends his hand out to him. “You’re the easiest to take care of—”

Nick pulls an object from the inside of his cloak and holds it out toward his teammate, stopping his sentence.

Brandon peers down at the object, recognizing it as a brown leather covered journal with sticky notes protruding from its pages. “What is this?”

“Max’s journal,” Nick tells him seriously. “I took it before he left. Max must've flipped St. John’s upside down while looking for it.”

Brandon snatches it from his teammate’s grasp and gazes at its smooth, yet rugged cover. He then opens it up and flips through the pages, spotting the foreign language scrawled between the lines. Next to some of the sentences are the sticky notes with the translation.

“‘Hamburgers, round, big, too much food, sleep, fat, heavy—’” He gapes at the content in disbelief. “What?” He peers up at him. “Maxi actually wrote this…?”

“You can look on his Twitter too,” Nick tells him with raised eyebrows.

Brandon gazes downward in shock. “But-but Maxi’s always nice—” He flicks his eyes back up at him. “I can never picture him shaming someone like that—”

Nick cuts into his sentence by taking away the journal from his teammate and stating firmly, “We all have our dark sides.”

He watched him snap the journal close. “So to get revenge, you traded him all the way up to St. John’s?”

“That’s part of the reason.” Nick slips the closed journal back into his cloak. “Also so that I can have a better chance going into the NHL and to get Dustin.” A satisfied smile grows on his face. “It was the perfect opportunity... And then I can stay in the NHL, never coming back down the AHL, and then become alternate captain, captain, then go into the board and become the owner,” Nick wraps up. “It’s a perfect plan.”

Brandon stands still in complete and utter surprise at how everything is joining together. “Does anyone else knows about this?” he asks him quietly. “About your plan?”

“Just Dustin.” Nick pauses. “And now you.”

“So no one else knows besides us two?”

“Uh-huh.” Nick nods his head.

Brandon furrows his eyebrows. “Why’d you choose to tell me though?” He places his fist against his chest.

Nick begins rounding the table, toward his teammate. “Because I want you to become a part of my dream.”

Brandon follows him with suspicious eyes. “What?”

Nick stands next to him, gazing down at him. “Monty, you've been the nicest person to me ever since we moved to San Diego. You've always stuck around with me, you've always been kind to me, you would hang out with me and treat me like a friend. And I appreciate that. And I want to thank you by sharing my dream with you. You're a really great guy.”

A small smile appears on Brandon’s face. “Really?”

Nick nods his head.

He lets out a sigh of happiness. “I feel so honoured…”

“Want to be the CEO of the Ritchies?” Nick gives him a bright smile. “‘Brandon Montour, Chief Executive Owner of the Anaheim Ritchies.’"

He lets out a flattered chortle. “Well, what about the others?”

Nick’s solemn expression immediately returns. “What others?”

Brandon makes small circular motions with his hand. “Y'know, Joey, Matty Hack, Ryan--”

“They're not gonna stick around any longer,” Nick cuts in harshly. “We're gonna trade 'em soon.”

He lightly gapes at him. “Why?”

“They're a hindrance to the plan. We can get more fitting players for the plan. We don't need them.”

“But they're our friends--”

“The guy who insults you every second is your friend?” Nick holds his hard stare at him.

Brandon leans back in anxiety as to how to answer the question. “Well, but, um... It's just playful.”

“You mean it never hurts you?” He eyes him.

Brandon shrugs. “I don't know... It's just…” He lets out a groan. “Ugh, we've known them for so long. I can't just throw them out of the team like that.” He holds out his hands toward the window.

“I'll help you do that,” Nick tells him with superiority. “We can take over the Ducks organization with Dustin and reign superior. And Joseph will wish that he would've never said those rude comments to you.”

Brandon stares blankly at him, not having any idea as to how to reply.

“So?” Nick places his hands on his hips. “What do you say?”

Brandon slowly shakes his head. “I...I don't know…”

“Don't you want to be in charge of a team?”

“I've never thought about being in charge of a team…” He scratches his head with his eyes cast aside. “I mean, it would be cool. But I want our friends to be part of it too--”

“Our friends?” Nick interrupts brusquely. “I think you mean YOUR "friends."

“Teammates!” Brandon blurts out, throwing his hands into the air. “Close, very close teammates! They helped us when Icemare's curses were upon us--” He immediately halts as a terrifying realization floats into his mind. “Icemare...that's Dustin…” He slides his eyes up at Nick with intuition. “Don't tell me you knew about Icemare and Dustin all this time.”

“How else could the dream progress faster?” Nick asks matter-of-factly.

Brandon says with growing anger: “You knew about the curses all this time and let us suffer?!”

“It was all part of the plan, Monty,” Nick explains sympathetically with his hands held out in front of him. “I didn't intend for the curses to be upon you specifically. They were to weaken the team so we can trade them easier.”

“No wonder you never got touched by a curse! You were behind it!” Brandon jabs a finger at him and takes a step each time he says a sentence. “You let me turn into a merman and humiliate myself! You let me turn into a cat and end up in the mud with Ryan! You let me catch on fire and--” He halts himself, throwing his hands out from his sides. “Is that how you thank me for all I've done for you?!”

“I didn't mean to--”

“Well, it could've been nice if you chatted with Dustin and brought the cure as fast as possible while I was unintentionally making a complete fool out of myself!” Brandon shouts incredulously, sticking his face up at him with fists by his side.

Nick stares down at his fuming friend with worry.

Brandon retracts himself, aimlessly throws his hands in the air. “I can't believe this,” he mutters. “I just can't.” He eyes him sharply. “You traded Maxi...you want to trade the others...AND you knew about the curses all this time.” He shakes his head while stepping back from him. “No. No, Nick, I can't work with you to fulfill your dream. That's it.” He then breezes by him, striding toward the doorway.

Nick whirls around, spotting his friend exiting the room. “Monty!”

Brandon picks up his speed, jogging out of the room and out of sight.

Nick rushes after him, bursting into the hallway. “Monty!”

Brandon continues running down the hallway, ignoring the betrayer’s cries.

Getting the message that Brandon will not listen to him, Nick halts with a somber expression.
He then pulls his arm back, revealing a roaring ball of bright fire conjuring in his hands, and tosses the energy into the hallway.

The streak of fire blasts through the air, past Brandon, and suddenly expands, latching itself onto all four borders of the hallway into one rippling, radiant wall of orange fire.

Brandon immediately stops his movements, his eyes growing wide at the sight of the supernatural wall. He immediately turns around on instinct to be greeted by another wall of solidified fire roaring into view.

He looks behind him, spotting that the glowing wall of energy is still in existence. He faces front, spotting the same predicament.

“Get me out!” He steps toward it, yet immediately retracts, feeling the intense heatwaves emitting from it, rushing up his face. “Nick!” he shouts over the crackling of the walls of fire. “Get me out!”

He then spots the wavy silhouette of Nick stepping up to him. “I should've told you one thing: I don't take no for an answer.”

Notes

E.18 "The Ones Behind It All"
Part 2/8
Episode 18/20