AAOOOSC! Exposed!

A cursor is pulsing next to a white, digital zero against a deep blue background. The cursor backs into the zero, vanishing it. The cursor then returns its place. Yet now in the place of the zero is a white one.

The one is next to a hyphen, which is next to a zero, another hyphen, and another zero.

The blue box is pushed down as other boxes bear colours of blue, teal, and gold are revealed above it. The scrolling stops, halting at a pure orange box.

The cursor swings over to the zero on the left side of the hyphen, deletes it, and adds a one in its place.

“Yeah, that looks about right,” Tommy is heard mumbling.

Staring at the boxes from the other side is Tommy. He is resting his chin on one hand as he is maneuvering the cursor with his other hand. His eyes are on the scoresheet for the supernatural matches: Each box represents a team from his league with the headshot of the power player, his name, and his record in the matchups.

He uses his free hand to run his finger against the mouse, viewing more of the colourful boxes representing each team of his league.

“And Oettinger beat Parise, surprisingly…” He switches his scrolling to light typing.

He continues his scrolling, this time downward. “Sidney beat Holtby…” He reverts to pressing some buttons on the keyboard.

From behind him, the elevator dings as its doors slide open, letting in a flood of warm light into the drab room.

“Oh, and look at that,” Tommy continues on to himself, “Sidney is playing against Stamkos tonight—”

Yet the person who stumbles out of the elevator is nowhere near warm:

“Gorman,” a deep voice grumbles, “Mr. Gorman...!”

Tommy’s eyes fly open at the unusual voice. He whirls around in his swivel chair to see the owner of the voice.

Nolan is storming up to him with fists by his sides, a frown on his face, a lowered eyebrows. Sparkles continue swirling around him and twinkling behind him, completely contrasting his mood.

He halts in front of him, holding his fuming stance. “I have a major problem with my powers...!”

The holographic man stares at him with a slight gawk. “I see that— The Flyers’ team powers aren’t supposed to make the power player glister like that…”

“If that was the case, I wouldn’t be here asking for help,” he snarls, his voice dripping with frustration.

Tommy waves his outstretched hands up and down as a motion to calm down. “Now, now, Patrick, simmer down and take a seat.” He holds his left hand out to his left, where the orange, patched sofa is located.

Without saying a single word, Nolan marches to the sofa, rounds it, and plops on it. He crosses his arms with a “humph!”

Tommy stands up and ambles around the sofa with scrutinizing eyes on him. He halts in front of him and scans him from head to toe.

The young power player sits there, silently fuming with his twinkling sparkles as his cheeks intensify in colour.

Tommy is now rubbing his blue, translucent chin. “How did this occur?”

Nolan keeps his sulking position as he murmurs: “My powers suddenly started surging so badly, like as if I was using my powers to the limit, even though I wasn’t even using them. It was so painful, but then once I grabbed hold of my friend—Carter—he turned into sparks and now he’s apparently in my head.” He rolls his eyes.

“Hey, I hear your tone of voice!” Carter snaps at him in his head.

Tommy lowers his hand and nods his head with understanding. “Do I know who this ‘Carter’ is?”

He snaps his sharp eyes up at him. “He’s Carter Hart, power player of the Phantoms.”

The founder’s eyes light up. “Ah! One of Podoloff’s men! So he disappeared into these sparkles and now you hear him in your head.”

“Yup.” He lowers his eyes.

“Have you tried to use your team powers ever since?”

He lifts his eyes back up. “No, because I’m in such a frenzy.”

Tommy holds his hand out toward him. “Can you try right now?”

Nolan stares at him gravely. Then with a huff, he reluctantly stands up. He gazes at his glimmering hand and mentally attempts to gain control over the surge in his hand. In spite of not sensing any surge to latch onto for control, he flicks his wrist downward to conjure his throwing star.

Instantly, a powerful rush of power surges inside his hand as the outside brightens into a ball of raging and blinding sparkles.

“GAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!” he screams in a hoarse tone. He rapidly shakes his hand in a feverish attempt to remove the sparkles.

“I pressed generation, I pressed generation!!!” Carter cries out mentally.

Outside of the forward, Tommy is observing the result. “Interesting…!”

“GET IT OFF!” Nolan screeches, his hand now in a blur of white and golden light.

All Carter manages to say is, “Uhhhhhh…”

The potent surge then fades away as the sparkles lessen in illuminance. Nolan halts his hand-thrusting and stares at the sparkles innocently orbiting it. He lets out a weary sigh and drops it.

“How does your hand feel?” he hears the founder ask him.

Nolan flicks his cold eyes at him. “Fine.”

Tommy nods his head again. “From what I have observed and witnessed, you have described and demonstrated the concept of companion allegiance.”

Nolan shoots him a scowl in place of a bewildered look.

“Or in other words,” he continues on, “you and Hart merged.”
Nolan’s expression only intensifies. “‘Merged’?”

“Whoa-hoh, sweet!” Carter exclaims.

“Yes.”

Nolan darts his eyes from side-to-side. “Just like Kale and Reid?”

Tommy raises his eyebrows. “That’s correct.”

“Great.” He falls back onto the sofa in a sprawled position, utterly exasperated. “Now I got Carter stuck in my head.”

“Now you get to have a slice of my life,” the goalie sing-songs.

Tommy narrows his eyes at him while scratching his jaw. “This is very peculiar because I should know that you have companion allegiance…” He drops his hand. “...but I don’t.”

Nolan raises his eyebrows at him. “Does Podoloff know?”

“He would have informed me and we would’ve discussed it.” He clasps his hands behind his back. “And no one outside of me has the power to bestow companion allegiance on my power players.”

“So how do you explain this?” He holds his spread-out position, revealing the countless sparkles revolving around him.

“I don’t know…” Tommy shakes his head at the glimmering particles. “This is awfully strange.”

“You know what else is awfully strange?” he presses on. “My voice—” He points to his mouth. “Did you notice it got a whole lot deeper?”

“Yes, yes, I did,” he answers in the same unsure tone, “I just didn’t want to point that out since I assumed it was a cold or puberty, but why did you mention that?” He eyes him.

Nolan glares at the mention of puberty for the cause of his sudden voice change. “Because my voice became like this after I got struck by Stamkos…”

Silence settles in the room.

Tommy’s eyes slowly widen ahead as an apprehensive idea forms in his mind. “Stamkos…”

Notes