In the reporters’ booth, looking over the ice and audience, are Cam Atkinson and Seth Jones. They both wear headsets and suits and sit behind the desk’s surface. Cam’s side is spewed with paper; Seth’s side is organized with neat stacks of paper.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” Cam announces to the script he is reading from, “welcome back to the intermission report of the All-Star Power Player Matches! I’m your host, Cam Atkinson, and this is my partner-in-crime, Seth Jones!”

With a large grin, Cam holds his hand out to Seth, who is on his left.

Seth frowns at him. He clears his throat.

Cam turns to him. “What?”

He points to his chest. “I’m the play-by-play.” He reverts his finger to him. “You’re the color commentator.”

Cam flicks his hand at him. “Oh yeah, what he said.” He faces his script again. “I can’t believe we’re already at the final round! The other three rounds were filled with on-the-edge-of-your-seat excitement as we see the power players battle it out! First, it all started with—”

“Cam.”

Cam turns back to his partner. “What?”

Seth points to him. “You’re supposed to ask me how it all went down.” He turns his finger to himself. “I’m the play-by-play. You’re the color commentator.” He drops his hand.

“But I already know how it went down—” Cam directs his hand to the spewage of papers in front of him. “I was about to go into it.”

Seth stares at him. He then dips down beneath the surface of the desk, straightens up, and plops a basket filled with chocolate chip cookies in between them. He pushes the basket toward Cam.

Cam sheepishly chuckles and reaches out to the basket. “So, uh, Jonesy, how did it all go down?” He takes a cookie and bites into it.

“Well, Cam, thank you for asking!” Seth exclaims with a coat of sarcasm. He places his hands on the script laid in front of him. “It started off when the Pacific division kicked off the first round between Joe Pavelski of the San Jose Sharks and Marc-André Fleury of the Vegas Golden Knights—”

“FOH! FEE FLINT FIK!” Cam blurts out with a full mouth. He sweeps his hand across him.

Seth eyes him. “Let’s say Pavs wiped Flower out to get that golden stick.” He turns back to his paper. “And for the second match of the Pacific?”

Cam swallows, plucks his script, and snaps it in the air with two hands. “We got Elias Pettersson of the Vancouver Canucks and Clayton Keller of the Arizona Coyotes. Even if Petey was able to stretch himself across the length of the rink, he wouldn’t have been able to get the stick. Kelly used his soundwave manipulation from those howls.”

He drops the script to squish the earpieces of his headset against his ears. “Ouch! Those were so loud!” He removes his hands from his headset. “But powerful enough to blow Petey out to aside to get the golden stick! And then in the Metro—”

“We still have one more Pacific match.” Seth points to his script. “And the whole Central division.”

Cam leans his head back. “Gah, I wanna see how our rivals are doing—”

“You will,” he replies nonchalantly while picking up his script, “let’s just finish recapping the Western Conference’s matches.”

Cam groans and eats another cookie.

“Finally, for the last match in the first round for the Pacific division was Leon ‘D—’”

“‘D’?” Cam muffles with confusion aimed at him.

Seth turns to him and hisses, “Shhh! Just go with it…!”

Cam nods and continues chewing.

Seth turns back to his script. “...of the Edmonton Oilers versus John Gibson of the Anaheim Ducks,” Seth reads out loud. “You know what happens when oil floods a duck’s home.” He grimaces at the script. “Yeah, not good things for the duck.”

Cam swallows and states, “It was brutal.”

Seth turns to him. “Fortunately, no one died.”

“Metro now?” He flashes him a grin.

“Central, then Metro.”

Cam snaps his fingers.

Seth swings his swivel chair to him. “So, tell me about the first match in the first round in the central division.”

Cam glances at his script. “Oh, you had the showdown of the yee-haw Finns: Pekka Rinne of the Nashville Predators up against the Dallas Stars’ rookie, Miro Heiskanen. Pekka may have been giant, but Miro was able to zip around him like a shooting star to take the golden stick! Hopefully, they’re still friends.”

“Oh yeah, of course!” Seth turns back to his script laying on the surface. “Second—and last—match of the first round was Nathan MacKinnon of the Colorado Avalanche versus Patrick Kane of the Chicago Blackhawks.”

“And Mr. Snowman said, ‘LET IT SNOW, LET IT SNOW, LET IT SNOW!’” Cam waves his arms in the air, mimicking snow falling.

Seth nods with pressed lips. “Yes. Thank you for finishing my sentence.”

Cam waves a hand in the air. “Ah, no prob, my friend!”

He stares at him. Not breaking eye contact, Cam takes another cookie and munches on it.

Seth then looks back at his script. “And now to the Metropolitan’s first round matches—”

“METRO!”

“—Braden Holtby of the Washington Capitals versus Mat Barzal of the New York Islanders. Holtby was able to use his ergokinetic constructs and flight to get around Mat’s foul weather and get the golden stick.”

Cam swallows with a finger in the air. “IT WAS SWEET!”

Seth glances at him. “It was.”

Cam gazes at his script. “Second match was Sidney Crosby of the Pittsburgh Penguins versus Sebastian Aho of the Carolina Hurricanes.” He straightens up and looks up at his teammate. “And now we know penguins are in Antarctica for a reason and not in the east coast.”

Seth switches sheets of paper. “And now onto the final division of the first round.”

He frowns at him. “Why couldn’t PLD be an All-Star?”

Seth shrugs and turns to him. “I don’t know. I think he should’ve been though. He’s a good kid.”

“He is!” He holds his hands out at him. “He has to represent the Jackets in these matches!”

Seth then faces his script and reads: “For the first match in the Atlantic division, we had Jack Eichel of the Buffalo Sabres against Thomas Chabot of the Ottawa Senators.”

“It was like a gladiator battle in a colosseum! Except instead of a colosseum, it was the rink of course.” Cam chuckles and peers up at his teammate. “It’s because Chabot was riding around in his own chariot.”

Seth looks at him with an unamused expression. “Which didn’t prove well because it was Eichel who got the stick.”

“He dismantled the chariot. It wasn’t pretty. Chabot couldn’t keep up with the repairs.” He gives him a slight frown.

Seth turns back to his script. “And last fight for the first round was John Tavares of the Toronto Maple Leafs versus Steven Stamkos of the Tampa Bay Lightning. Stamkos took the golden stick in a snap!”

“Which is surprising Tavares survived the fight after knowing what has been going on in the matches against Stamkos!” Cam grimaces at him.

Seth nods. “Huh, yeah…!”

“Second round?”

Seth turns to him. “Tell me more about it.”

Cam takes a glimpse of his script. “In the Pacific, we first have Leon” —he scrunches his face at the last name— “dry-drill-dreh—”

“‘D,’” Seth glosses over.

“D?” Cam turns his bewildered look up at him. “Th-that’s how you pronounce it?”

“‘Leon D.’”

“Oh.” Cam looks back at his script. “Leon D. versus Joe Pavelski. Water and oil, they don’t mix…! But water is the universal element, so I guess that’s why Pavs won.”

Seth shudders. “It was an uncomfortable match to watch.”

Cam balls his hands against each other with determination. “I really want to mix oil and water one day. I will do that one day.”

Seth gives him a look of compassion. “I’m sorry, but it’s impossible.” He glances at his script. “But what’s possible is Clayton Keller beating Joe Pavelski in the final match of the second round with his sonokinetic abilities.”

He slaps his hands over the earpieces of his headset once again. “Yeah, that did hurt too.”

Seth nods at him. “Then in the central?”

“Oh, yeah!” Cam spins back to face his script. “Mr. Snowman versus the yee-haw Finn from Texas, not Tennessee! And the star shines brighter.” He faces his teammate. “Like even if it snows on your Christmas lights, they still shine.”

Seth slightly grimaces at him. “...Yes, but that’s not exactly how Heiskanen won.” He turns the page over to a new page of the script. “Now in the Metro—”

“METRO!”

“—Holtby couldn’t get a hold against Aho’s powerful hurricane and Aho got the golden stick.”

Cam pulls out a soaked umbrella from underneath the desk and holds it up. “At least we came prepared!”

Seth gazes at him and states flatly, “Because I reminded you.”

“Yes! Still came prepared!”

“And for the Atlantic?”

Cam tosses the umbrella underneath the desk and returns to his mess of papers. “It was Eichel versus Stamkos! And y’know, metal is a conductor, so…” He lets out a snort and a crumbled smile.

Seth furrows his eyebrows at him. “What?”

Cam peers at him. “I didn’t know Eich’s hair could get any more curler than after the fight.”

Seth runs his fingers down his head. “It made me want to come down to the ice and fix it.”

“You should’ve.”

“But I got a job to do!” He holds his hands out at his script. “I can’t abandon it.”

Cam pats his upper arm. “You’re a good man, Jonesey.”

Seth whirls back to his script and flips the page. “And for the third round, in the Western Conference, it was Clayton Keller against Miro Heiskanen.”

Cam covers his earpieces with his hands. “The only thing those howls did were hurt my ears even more! Didn’t they hurt your ears?”

Seth holds up a pack of ear plugs from the corner of the desk.

Cam drops his hands and jaw at them. “And you didn’t tell me?!”

“I only brought enough for me.” He puts them back in their spot. “If I knew you didn’t have any, I would’ve brought more for you. I’m sorry.”

Cam leans back in his swivel chair and groans.

Seth gazes at him. “Wanna tell me about the last match in the third round?”

Cam straightens up, his enthusiasm popping back into his face. “Oh yeah, Stammer against Sebs! Sebs won that one since he knows how to handle lightning pretty well!”

Seth turns to his script. “And that brings up to our final match: Miro Heiskanen of the Dallas Stars, representing the Western Conference versus Sebastian Aho of the Carolina Hurricanes, representing the Eastern Conference.”

Cam shoots his fists into the air. “Go SEBS!!!”

Seth slams his palms against the surface. “Cam! No bias!” He whirls to him. “We’re reporters!”

Cam places a hand on his chest with a jokingly haughty aura. “But I’m a fan at heart!”

Seth spins back to the front and gazes through the glass. “Okay, let’s go out to the ice—the match is about to begin…!”

Cam faces the view in front of him. “The buzzer is counting down— And the power player match begins!”

“Aho makes the first move with a blast of water at Heiskanen!” Seth reports. “But that doesn’t faze the Stars player as he flies over—”

Cam’s eyes fly open as he leans back. “OHHH, only to get hit by a gust of wind!”

“Heiskanen lands in Aho’s territory,” Seth continues calmly. “Aho is advancing toward him, emitting lightning at him! Heiskanen uses a photokinetic shield to block Aho’s attempts and—”

Cam throws his hands into the air. “HE CAUGHT THE LAST BOLT! WOW! THAT IS GREAT!” He drops them and turns to his teammate. “I wonder how he’d do against Stamkos!”

Seth leans forward, intent on the action. “And Aho blasts all the elements of a hurricane at Heiskanen! Heiskanen is thrown back into his territory!”

Cam throws his pointer finger in the air. “Wow, better watch out because Hurricane Sebastian is coming for ya!” He lowers his hand and chuckles.

“Aho is skating into Heiskanen’s territory…,” Seth narrates. “Heiskanen is still down...Aho is going for the golden stick—”

Cam jolts back. “OH, BLOCKED! Heiskanen put up a light wall in front of Aho!”

“A photokinetic wall! Aho—”

BOOM!!!

Both of them clutch into the desk as thunder quarks through the room.

“THUNDER!” Cam shrieks.

Seth lets go and looks back at the view, along with his teammate. “Aho breaks the shield! He’s reaching for the stick, Heiskanen makes desperate attempts by throwing photokinetic projectiles at him—”

“But Aho says, ‘No problem!’ as he twirls around the light and takes the golden stick!”

The goal horn blows.

Cam flies up to his feet and pumps his fists into the air. “METRO WINS!!!”

BOOM!!!

Seth and Cam jolt as they scream at the familiar boom of the cannon.

They whirl to the right, where the sound came from. Standing next to Cam in the attire as a Blue Jacket soldier is Pierre-Luc Dubois. A pristine 1857 Napoleon cannon stands by his side, its opening smoking.

Seth furrows his eyebrows at his younger teammate. “PLD, what’re you doing here!?”

Cam turns to him. “Oh, I invited him over! I thought he would’ve never had come!” He whirls to the power player and pats his arm. “Thanks, PLD!”

Pierre-Luc peers down at him. “It’s my duty.”

Seth, gawking, holds his open hands at him. “How did you get him over here? He wasn’t on our flight!”

Cam cranes his head back to grin to him. “The portals…!”

Seth drops his face and hands into a frown. “Those are only for emergencies.”

Cam spins to him. “Hey, not having anyone to talk to and being bored out of your mind is an emergency to me.” He springs to his feet. “Now come on, we have to celebrate because METRO WON!” He then bobs in his place while swinging his arms out one at a time, like disco-dancing.

Seth stares at him with a look of disapproval.

Seth then faces the front again. “And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen, Sebastian Aho, the power player of the Carolina Hurricanes, is your 2019 All-Star Power Player Match Champion. Join us next time when we—”

“Where’re the cookies?”

Seth turns to Cam. “They’re right—”

He looks at the empty spot in the middle of the desk where the cookies once sat. He turns back to his teammate. “Did you take them?”

“No!” Cam throws his hands above his shoulders. “I swear, I didn’t!”

Munching sounds to their left. They turn to that direction and look down.

Cuddled into the corner, underneath the desk is Patrik Laine, gobbling a cookie. By his feet is the basket of cookies.

Cam gawks down at him. “What is LAINE doing here?!”

Seth glares at him from the corner of his eyes.

“I invited him,” Pierre-Luc pipes in from behind them. “He was all alone like a vagabond and I felt pity on him.”

Seth reverts his glare to him. “Thank you for the warning.”

“Yay, more people!” Cam zips behind Seth and crawls underneath the desk. He joins him in eating the cookies.

Seth drifts to the front. “Join us next time when we—”

BOOM!!!

Seth jumps in his seat and whirls to the power player. “SHHH!!! Would you—?”

Pierre-Luc reaches over and covers the smoking opening with his hand.

Seth faces the front with a flat look. “Good night.”

He then stands up, rips off his headset and places it on the desk, then stalks away.

Pierre-Luc fires the cannon once again.

BOOM!!!


The End of “All-Star Power Player Matches.”

Notes

Episode 9/15

---

Here's the rundown of the matches:

*Pacific*
Pavs versus Flower: Pavs
Petey versus Kelly: Kelly
Leon versus Gibs: Leon
Leon v. Pavs: Pavs
Pavs v. Kelly: Kelly

*Central*
Pekka v. Miro: Miro
Nathan v. Patrick: Nathan aka Mr. Snowcone or Snowman
Nathan v. Miro: Miro

*Metro*
Holtby v. Barzal: Holtby
Sid v. Sebs: Sebs
Sebs v. Holtby: Sebs

*Atlantic*
Eichel v. Thomas: Eichel
John v. Stammer: Stammer
Eichel v. Stammer: Stammer

*Final*
Kelly v. Miro: Miro
Seb v. Stammer: Sebs

Miro v. Sebs: Aho