AAOOOSC! Junior Powers!

The six young hockey players stare at the four older holographic men with different degrees of shock.

“Wh-what is going on?” Matteo manages to squeeze out in stutters.

Tommy gives him a warm smile. “We should first introduce ourselves.” He places a hand on his translucent blazer-cladded blue chest. “I’m Thomas Patrick Gorman, if you want my fancy name. Yet, you can call me ‘Tommy’ for short. I am the founder of the NHL.”

Kailer knits his eyebrows at him. “Wasn’t the NHL founded in 1917?”

Tommy nods his head. “Correct.”

“So how are you still existing?”

“Oh, I have already passed.” The NHL founder waves his hand aimlessly. “Yet I am still here, hence my appearance.” He holds his arms out from his sides, showing his holographic aspect.

“Ah.” The small skater eyes him with raised eyebrows. “Fascinating.”

From Tommy’s left, Ed steps up toward the hockey players. “I am Ed Chynoweth, the founder of the CHL.” He holds out toward each of the CHLers. “Mr. Yamamoto, Mr. Clague, Mr. Howden, Mr. Pietroniro: glad to have you under my leagues.”

Harold then steps more into view from Tommy’s other side. “And I am Harold Anderson, founder of the USHL.” He just his chin toward Jeremy. “Good afternoon, Mr. Swayman.”

“Hey.” Jeremy gives him an uneasy wave.

President Roosevelt lines up to Ed, since he is next to him. “And I am President Theodore Roosevelt, the founder of the NCAA.” He holds a hand out toward the tallest hockey player. “My power player representative from Boston University is Jake Oettinger.”

Jake gasps with excitement, stuffing his stick horizontally between his leg pads and pants. “Teddy!” With his now free hand, he slides his helmet from his face, revealing his enlivened expression. “I’m a big fan of you! I read all about you in my history books!”

Kailer eyes the four founders in suspicion. “Who is even actually deceased then?”

Tommy clasps his hands behind his back. “Now, I shall explain to you young gentlemen as to why you are here. We all called you together in this rink not to play stick and puck, although it sounds fun to do. We brought you here to inform you about your powers.”

The hockey players’ eyes grow wide.

“How do you know?” Kale asks under his breath.

“We bestowed them to you,” Ed replies, apparently hearing Kale’s question. “We chose you to have powers—specific powers—for a reason.”

“That’s so cool!” Jake bellows, pumping his gloved hands in the air.

Tommy adds on with a hand out from his side: “And your powers have a purpose to be used! Which is what we shall discuss right now.” He drops his hand, becoming slightly more serious. “We have brought you here to form a supernatural society of junior—and collegiate—power players to battle against the evil forces of the supernatural universe. In other words: you young men are the guardians—”

“—OF THE GALAXY!” Jake interrupts loudly. “I love that movie!”

“Of the junior and collegiate galaxy,” Ed corrects, “if you wanna put it that way.”

Tommy waves his hands in front of him, attempting to guide everyone back on track. “Literally speaking, you men are the guardians of your leagues, protecting them against villains.”

“There are villains?” Kailer asks, eyeing them.

“There can be.” The NHL founder begin to pace in front of the row of hockey players, defying the slippery surface of the ice. “They can be anyone posing a threat to your leagues. That is why you must be in a society to defend your league against them at any time: the Good Junior Hockey Players’ Society or the GJHP.”

“So how are we gonna organize this society?” Matteo questions him, following the founder with his eyes.

Tommy halts in his tracks, instantly spinning to him. “Excellent question!” He throws an index finger in the air. “In each society, there’s a Master, sidekicks, and a scientist is encouraged. Usually, there would be a spy, but we decided to hold that position until further discussion.”

Kailer proudly places his hand on his chest. “I’ll be the scientist.”

“That’s what Mr. Hunter was assigning you to be,” Ed informs him, holding a hand out toward him.

Kailer responds by giving him a cocky smile.

The CHL founder then reverts his gaze at the others. “The Master shall be Mr. Pietroniro.”

Matteo’s eyes fly open with surprise. “Whoa, really?”

Ed turns to him. “That position suits you best.”

“Well…” The skater straightens himself up. “Thank you.”

Jake then spins to his direction and gives him a deep bow. “Oh, Master Pietroniro the great!”

Matteo holds his curved, gloved palm toward him. “Please, just call me ‘Matteo.’”

Jake gives him another big bow. “Oh, Matteo the great!” He then flashes him a grin before straightening himself up and lining with the rest of the young hockey players.

“And the rest of you are all sidekicks,” Harold announces, his hands out toward the line.

Jake, Jeremy, and Brett exchange smiles; Kale, on the other hand, does not appear to be amused.

“Yet, being in a supernatural society has its rule,” Tommy continues on in a solemn tone. “There is a great rule, probably the biggest, I’d say, that each member shall heed gravely.”

The teenagers turn to face him with curious anticipation.

“This society is strictly esoteric,” Tommy states. “Meaning that only a few can only know about: us, the founders, and you, the power players. Other power players may know about this society, but no one else can.”

Brett gawks at him slightly. “How come?”

The NHL founder turns to him with a grave expression. “If others find out about this society or any other supernatural society, the public will abuse the power players: they’d use you men as experiments, artifacts, even deadly targets, just out of the shear feeling of wonder or fear of how supernatural abilities work. The reality of the supernatural will be a horrifying shock to the public.”

The six members of the GJHP stare at the founder with appalled expressions.

A smile pops onto Tommy’s face as he clasps his hands by his chest. “You men got that?”

They all nod their heads with meaning, not altering their facial expressions.

“Good!” The NHL founder peers at each other them. “Any other questions?”

Matteo raises his hand in the air. “Do we have headquarters?”

Tommy is returning to the group of founders as he answers the question: “Yes, you guys must have headquarters.” He halts back in his place and faces them. “But we decided to let you choose to have it and how it should be designed. Yet your headquarters must have a control booth, which will have the data needed to overlook each major junior and collegiate team and city.”

“Ooo, sweet sauce!” Kailer exclaims with awe-filled eyes.

“Doesn’t it like take months to build a building?” Brett points out in a shrug.

Ed pulls a tangible, black electronic tablet from his blazer and lifts it in the air. “Not with this fine device created by Mr. Tavares!” He then proceeds to stroll toward Kailer.

Kailer follows the approaching holographic man. “As in ‘John Tavares’?”

The CHL founder stops in front of him and holds it out to him. “Yes. He made this device have the ability to create any construct! And I mean ANY.”

Awe fills the small skater’s eyes as he visually takes in the tablet. “Whoa…” He lightly grabs the electronic device and traces his finger down its smooth side.

A blue circle on the tablet appears against its black screen; it begins pulsing.

“Zowie...!” Kailer mutters in wonder.

All the other players crane toward the scientist to take a good look at the tablet’s screen.

A blue-coloured map of North America comes into view with text at the bottom: PICK LOCATION.

“Hmmm…” Kailer transfers the tablet into one hand and uses the other to rub his chin in deep thought. “Since this society must be esoteric, it has to be somewhere hidden and hard to access...only those who witness this can gain entry to it.”

From the other side of the line, Jeremy blinks at him in confusion. “What?”

Kailer’s eyes then light up. “I think I got it.” He taps on the dark shade near Chicago. “Let’s go to shores of Lake Michigan, since we’re nearby here in Chicago, right?” He peers ahead at the founders.

Tommy nods his head. “Yes, that is correct.”

Matteo then turns from left to right and right to left to look at all of his members. “Alright, guys— Follow Kailer!”

With the tablet in his hands, Kailer twirls around and skates back into the darkness. The others smoothly follow him out of view.

The founders then give each other reassuring nods and step back into their side of the darkness.

Immediately, the lights of the rink flick back on, deluging the massive room in much-needed light. Now with everything visible, the six young hockey players and founders are nowhere to be seen.

Yet the rink is not empty.

A lone skater is lumbering next to the ice rink, reaching its entrance.

He is wearing a black, gold, and white-coloured equipment. Under his visor are heavy lidded, cool grey-coloured eyes, along with thick eyebrows, light facial hair lining his jawline and chin, and scattered freckles. This is Michael Cramarossa, a forward of the Hamilton Bulldogs.

He halts in the walkway of the entrance, peering out at the vacant ice.

“Seriously?” Michael calls out annoyed in a deep, expressive voice. “There’s no one here?”

The ice remains empty.

He lets out a big groan. “I’ll work on my shots alone.” He then steps out onto the ice and skates off.

Notes