AAOOOSC! All-Stars!
Heist or Sign?
Under the morning sun, Thomas Chabot strolls down one of the sidewalks of Downtown San Jose.
He appears content, gazing around the serene scene. Cars roll by him to his left; a large, white building drifts by him to his right; birds flock above him and around the skyscrapers.
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
Thomas slows his walking to pull his phone out of his pocket and gaze at it.
Fan Fair Signing: 3 mins, a notification on his phone reads.
Thomas chuckles at the screen. “Ah, I know that, phone! I’m only a couple steps away!”
He then puts his phone back into his pocket, slips his hands into his jacket’s pocket, and continues gazing around.
Sirens then echo in front of him. He snaps his eyes wide and halt, staring straight ahead.
Skidding into the sidewalk from a large, broken window of the white building are three people dressed in black and white. Stuffed bags are slung over their shoulders; their arms are occupied by bulky and long pieces of artwork.
Thomas throws his pointer finger out at them. “Hey! Halt in the name of—”
He then throws his hand in the air, materializing a golden spear in his grasp. He then swings the spear into both of his hands and jabs its tip ahead of him. He now stands on a golden, white, and red-colored chariot with a white horse strapped to the front.
“ —JUSTICE!”
The robbers continue running down the sidewalk.
Thomas drops his arms and cranes his head back. “Ugh!” He then exchanges his spear for the reins of his horse and flicks them with the click of his tongue.
The horse lets out a nay, throwing its front hooves in the air, and sprints off.
“Go, boy, go!” Thomas shouts over the winds.
The robbers’ backs rush up to the chariot; they peer behind their shoulders, widen their eyes, then increase their pace.
In the speeding chariot, Thomas whips out a spear and throws it ahead of him.
The spear hits one of the bobbing bags and tears the fabric down the middle as it falls. Precious jewelry, paintings, and sculptures spill from the bag.
The robber with the torn bag whirls around, spotting his spewed loot. He reaches over toward it, only to glance up at the growing shadow over him, turn around, and continue running with his partners. Thomas’s horse and chariot dashes over the artifacts.
Thomas wields another spear and tosses it to the other side of the line of robbers. The spear sticks into another robber’s hand, making him let go of the bust he had in his arm and scuttle into the bushes next to the sidewalk.
The robber in the middle—still untouched—whirls around and races to the moving chariot. Before he could make any contact, Thomas swings his foot up at his chin, knocking him away.
He then snaps his head to the last robber standing in his vision. He spins another spear in his hand, raises it over his head, and—
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
Thomas pulls on the reins, his spear dissolving without contact, and bellows, “Whoa!”
The horse skids to a halt.
Thomas lets go of the reins and pulls out his phone. He gazes at the notification: Fan Fair Signing: now.
“Aw man.” He gazes up.
The three robbers have rejoined in front of him, gathering up the broken pieces of their stolen goods.
Thomas exchanges his phone for two spears, one in each hand, and chucks them both ahead of him.
The soaring spears multiple in the air before raining around the robbers. The robbers glance around their surroundings; the spears have trapped them in a tight square.
“No one move!” Thomas shouts as he rushes toward them on his chariot. “I’ll be back!”
He then speeds past them, leaving them in his imprisonment.
The massive room in the San Jose McEnery Convention Center is bustling with stations covering the entire floor and music and chattering filling the air. Hockey fans of all teams wade around the stations; others make line at the stations, including the Autograph Stage.
In front of the turning line is a table with a black tablecloth and multiple markers on a stage. Thomas steps onto the stage and sits behind the table. He gazes out at the large mass of fans waiting to meet him, filling the entire line barrier of the station.
He gulps. “Okay…” He glances at the last person in the line. “...after that Sharks fan at the end...I’ll go back.” He lets out a quick exhale. “Let’s do this.”
Posters, pucks, jerseys, pamphlets, and other items pass under his vision as his hand flies over them with a marker.
The line makes its way up to the stage, moving away from the entrance of the line. However, Patrik Laine, dressed in All-Star merchandise, enters the line and stands behind the last Sharks fan. He pulls his teal-colored cap off his head and awaits happily.
Thomas then signs the Sharks fan’s poster and hands it back to her. “Have a great day!” He then whirls to the security guard who stands behind him. “I’ll be right back, I really need to go—”
“Two minutes,” the guard snaps.
Thomas pulls out his phone and taps in a timer. “You got it!” He then launches from his seat and sprints off the stage.
At the front of the line, by the stage, Patrik watches the All-Star player disappear into a nearby door. His smile drops; he dips his head; he shuffles away.
Thomas, in his chariot driven by his hose, rushes up the same sidewalk, retracing his steps. He spots the spears bent and pushed away from each other. Running up at him are the three robbers with their bags and artifacts.
“What?!” Thomas barks at them. “I told you to stay!” He whips out his spear from behind him and hurls his arm out, making contact with a study surface.
The chariot halts; Thomas peers down.
A robber holds a silver pole with delicate carvings up against his spear. Behind him, the other robbers back away.
“Oh, sword fight, eh?” Thomas remarks. “Let’s go!”
The chariot resumes moving as the power player clanks his spear against the robber’s weapon. He whacks his spear at the top of the pole, batting it out of the robber’s hand. The pole clatters onto the sidewalk, forcing the robber to turn around to retrieve it.
The chariot makes a sweeping U-turn to face the robber. He stares down at him, watching him chase after the rolling pole. Thomas pulls his spear back, narrows his eyes with a smirk, then—
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
Thomas drops his hand and pulls out his phone to gaze at it. “Ugh! You’re kidding me!” With mad eyes on the screen, he hurls his spear out at the robbers’ direction.
The spear lands in the middle of their circle. Other spears follow, trapping them in two layers of the barrier.
“I’ll be right back!” Thomas shouts at them. He then rushes past them on his chariot.
Back at the Autograph Stage, Thomas whips the marker around a jersey before giving it back to its owner. He then peers behind his shoulder and gives the security guard a big, begging grin.
With a stern look, the security guard shakes her head.
Thomas huffs, turns back to a puck that has been placed on his desk, and signs it.
Posters, jerseys, signs, and all other sorts of memorabilia float past his way. At last, he signs a shirt and hands it to the final person in line.
“Have a great day!” he tells the departing fan.
“That’s it,” the security guard pipes up from behind him.
Thomas spins around in his chair to face her. “Thank you!” He then springs from his chair and rushes off the stage.
The chariot roars down the sidewalk again. Thomas stands in it, his spear by his side, with determined eyes and a smirk. Coming up to him on the sidewalk is a slewn pile of his spears.
Thomas’s expression softens into surprise. “Whoa… What…? Wh-what…?”
The horse comes to a halt in front of the thrown spears. Thomas steps off from the chariot; it dissolves beside him along with his horse.
He steps up to the spears and gazes down at them. “How…?” He cranes his head up and gazes around. “Where did they go?”
He looks back down at the spears. He bends over and grasps onto the nearest one. Straightening up, he gazes at it. “I put DOUBLE the protection! How could they escape?!”
He then lowers himself onto one knee and dips his head. He holds the spear upward with its tip facing the sky. “What a selfish act,” he mutters. “Sacrificing the wellbeing of the city...for my own job and fame…”
A shadow crawls over him. Then, “Whoa, why so Shakespearen?” a familiar voice pipes up from in front of him.
Thomas perks his head up. Standing in front of him with a warm smile is John Gibson.
“I failed…!” Thomas pops onto his feet and grabs the collar of his shirt, letting his spear dissolve. “I let the robbers go and failed!”
Gibson shoots him a confused look. “The art robbers?”
Thomas lets go of him. “Yes! Millions of dollars stolen!” He cranes his head back. “Oh, the effort gone to waste—”
“Tommy, chill, they’ve been arrested.”
Thomas gazes back at him with a shocked look. “What?”
“I found them,” the goalie explains in a calm tone. “I called the police. And the police took ‘em. You helped by holding them in place in your imprisonment.”
Thomas gasps, hope flooding into his eyes. “Oh, what a miracle!” He pulls him in a tight embrace. “Thank you, Gibs!” He pulls away with a large grin.
“Yeah, I mean…” Gibson holds his hands out from his sides. “Gotta do what you gotta do.”
“Because we are—” He whips out a spear and holds it up in the air. “—heroes!”
Gibson chuckles. “That’s right.” He pats his shoulder. “Now I gotta go do an autograph signing at the Fan Fair.” He whisks past him.
Thomas peers behind his shoulder. “Oh, have fun!” He turns around to face him. “The fans are really nice if you’re not rushed by circumstances!”
“No worries, I’ll make the most of it!” Gibson shouts toward him.
Thomas then watches Gibson disappear around the corner of the building. He spins his spear beside him and sets its flat end on the sidewalk.
He gazes around with a heroic aura. “I wonder which other place needs some justice. Now that I got the time.”
The End of “Heist or Sign?”
Notes
Episode 11/15
Here's the map of the Fan Fair:
