Travis Dermott is a rookie, Jake Gardiner is a veteran. They are hockey players, they are super heroes, they are Toronto Maple Leafs. The pair are stationed in the Toronto Maple Leaf sub-orbital base, keeping an eye on a strange mutant rat-thing that is rampaging through the Northern Toronto highlands.

“So what’s your super power?” Jake asks making conversation with the rookie.

“Oh, it’s nothing special.” Travis doesn’t want to brag. “I can turn my fists into steel. What’s your power?”

“I can turn into a giant snake, or like, a bunch of little snakes.”

“Whoa!” Travis is super impressed.

“Yeah, last time I turned into over like, two thousand snakes.” Jake is understandably proud of himself. He’s worked hard to get where he is.

“That’s amazing! How did you… I mean, how did you learn to do that?” Travis fails to hide his longing for more power.

“It’s the Leafs.” Jake answer, understanding his young teammates desire only too well. “The team wants you to be great and they will do everything to help you get there. Believe me, I was just like you once upon a while ago. Be patient.”

“Yeah. I can be patient.” Travis let’s this thought settle before elaborating. “I just feel like my powers could be so much stronger.”

Jake doesn’t answer immediately. He watches the rat-thing uproot some trees in a secluded ravine.

“Should we stop it?” Travis asks.

“The desire for strength is a natural craving.” Jake ignores the more recent question, preferring to talk more about the nature of power. “We are each of us allotted only so much of it. We may strive to become more than what we are but ultimately our strength is what it is. So how do we become stronger?”

Travis opens his mouth to answer.

“Training” Jake continues. “But not just the body. Training of the mind. If you are smarter than you are strong, your mind will enhance your strength. With me it all began with a question ‘have you tried becoming two snakes Jake?’ I had never considered it before. Now you said you can turn your hands into steel.”

“Yeah.” Travis is pretty sure he knows where Jake is going with this.

“Can you turn anything else into steel?”

“You mean like my dick?” Travis asks. “No, I’ve tried, it never works.”

“Not your dick,” Jake laughs. “Not yet. But what about this?” Jake holds out a pencil.

Travis stares at the pencil for a while before answering.

“I’ve never tried that .” He says.

“Go ahead.” Jake offers the pencil again.

Travis reaches out but hesitates.

“I don’t think I’m allowed to use my powers outside of practice.” Travis is sure about this rule.

“It’s fine.” Jake says. “You’re with me.” He smiles reassuringly.

Travis takes the pencil and concentrates. His hands shimmer and glow, the pencil catches fire. Travis drops the burning rod and stamps out the flames.

“So.” Jake says “You make a bit of heat when you do your trick don’t you.”

Before Travis can answer an alarm blares out over the bases loud speaker.

“Unauthorized rookie power use. Unauthorized rookie power use.” The voice is of Mike Babcock. “Stay where you are to accept responsibility for your transgression.”

“Oops” Jake says before collapsing into a ball of snakes and scattering in every direction.

I’m gonna try something different today. I’m pissed off and don’t care to mince words or play with funny stories. Instead I’m gonna just spit a little bit of what I call truth.

“What’s wrong with the Leafs?” I hear people saying, and see on the web-r-net. “What’s wrong with Mitch and Wily and (gasp and whisper) is Auston really hurt? How could that be true?”

FFFFFFFUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!

The Toronto Maple Leafs are a hockey team, right? Is that still the case? Holy shit, just because we all had to watch total garbage for years doesn’t mean our hockey team just gets to be good immediately. Just because our whole team had career years last season doesn’t mean that they get to just skip along to the Cup Final. It takes work, day in and day out, fucking hard as shit, ‘fuck my life’ kind of work. It’s not called the National Hockey Easy is it? Is it? I wouldn’t put it past Bettman to have changed the name of the league one morning just ’cause.

Think about this, there are twenty year-olds who are being told, right now, that if they  can’t score more goals it will cost them millions of dollars. That’s fucked up, like, in terms of society and human evolution and stuff. Twenty year-olds should be thinking about one think… SEX. Seriously, tell me what else you were thinking about at twenty.

Now, think about this, those same twenty year-olds from before can probably bang anyone in the city of Toronto that they want to. Not in a ‘sex-predator’ kind of way, in a ‘Auston can you PLEASE bang my wife and let me watch? PLEASE!?’ kind of way. But with all the vaginas of the city, if not all of Canada (and Sweden), open to them these boys… Let me say that again… BOYS!… need to watch every word and deed and thought because smartphones are watching and listening all the time.

How would you handle that sort of a life? I know I would go full Beiber on the world with bitches and bottle services and SOOOOO many bitches.

Can we maybe give a little bit of consideration to our young stars and allow them to mature at their own pace? Babcock seems to understand this, that’s why he’s not benching guys for mistakes and sitting guys and sending them down.

Last year the Leafs got better as they went along. This year has been different than last year. I’m going to make a bold prediction. Next year will be different than this year. I for one am going to enjoy the ride. I for one am going to appreciate that I can see the difference when my team is playing poorly. Time was when I couldn’t tell.

That’s all. I’m still pissed off, but not at you, and definitely not at the Leafs.

“Things are looking grim here, men.” Mike Babcock states the facts bluntly. “He is on one hell of a roll and I don’t think he’ll be slowing down any time soon. Now I’m working on how to get us out of here but you’ve got to give me some time.”

“Don’t worry coach.” Tyler Bozak stands for the Toronto Maple Leafs. “We can take it.”

The Leafs all nod their assent. The whole team is huddled around their coach in the men’s room. The informal setting is a sad necessity forced on the Leafs by the ravings of a mad man.

Lou Lamoriello is not that mad man, he is just super pissed off and has been venting his anger about the Trump situation in front of the whole team for the last three hours.

“Get out here!” Lou shouts from outside the door. “I need to discuss something very important.” That’s how Lou tricked all the Leafs to come to the bar in Toronto Maple Leaf Tower in the first place. “Come out now or I’m coming in there!”

“No need for that Lou.” Mike says as he leads the way out of the restroom.

The preseason roster for the Toronto Maple Leafs is a unit of over forty men, each of whom tower over the diminutive old man who dominates the room. He holds them with his glittering eye and they cannot choose but to hear. They listen all like three year old’s, Lamoriello has their will.

“I wanna talk about kneeling.” Lou spits. “I am so pissed I gotta have this talk with you, not even a real issue, but if that moron D-list celebrity of a President  is going to make kneeling an issue then I gotta talk about it. So here is our official Toronto Maple Leaf policy on kneeling during anthems. Players are only allowed to kneel during the playing of their own countries anthem, but only when they are not in that country. Simple right, so American guys can kneel in Canada and Canadians can kneel in the States. But then you get back up for the host countries anthem. And all of you guys who kneel have to be in my protest Vine.”

“What about Europeans?” Roman Polak asks.

“What are they protesting?” Lou asks, but speaks over any chance Roman has to answer. “Forget it, I don’t care. All players are subject to the rules. You can kneel any time you like when you hear your countries national anthem, so when’s that going to be? The Olympics maybe. Good luck with that, buddy. Europeans? Like I give two grains of cow shit about Europe. Honestly, I don’t even understand why everyone is angry about kneeling anyway. I got a hummer through every national anthem for every game from ’91 to ’13. Sometimes it was even a rimmer, right up in the box! It was great, talk about showing love for your country. Such a stupid controversy, and all to distract us from the real issue.”

“Ixnay on the Ussiansray.” Mike hisses.

“Russia?” Lou looks at the coach perplexed. “No, I’m talking about Dracula. We should be focusing on making our way through his castle so we can finally slay him, but instead we have to worry about what we do during a song. A song! Liquor!”

A trio of servers scurry out from hiding to kneel in front of Lou holding out a glass; a bottle filled with brown liquor; and ice in a bucket. Lou takes the bottle and waves the servants away.

“We are all concerned about Dracula sir.” Auston Matthews says. “Don’t worry we won’t let any distractions get in the way.”

Lou has to shake himself to keep from getting lost in Auston’s dreamy eyes, still the Leafs GM is instantly soothed by the young mans easy sincerity.

“Speaking of distractions.” Mike pounces on the opening. “Lou I need to get the team back on the ice right away here. These guys need every opportunity  to show me what they can do before cut day.”

“God, pick the team already.” Lou whines.

“How about I coach the team Lou.” Mike asks.

“How about I fire you right now.” Lou retorts.

“Go ahead Lou.” Mike pulls out his phone. “I’ll call Brendan, you can tell him I’m fired right now.” Toronto Maple Leafs President Brendan Shanahan has forbidden Lou from firing anybody in the organization and Mike knows it.

“Maybe I don’t want to fire you.” Lou backs down, mumbling under his breath. “Not yet, but I will, won’t I? Oh yes, you’ll be fired.” Lou takes a swig from his bottle and plants himself in a very soft chair.

“Let’s go Leafs.” Mike says and the team falls in behind their coach. They don’t get very far before alarms start going off throughout the tower.

“It’s Dracula.” Morgan Rielly says. His techno-pathic super senses allow Morgan to access the Toronto Maple Leaf network servers at will. “We are getting reports of vampire attacks all over the city.”

“Alright team, just like we practiced.” Mike says.

The next few minutes are an essay in organized chaos as the Leafs split off into groups of four and line up for their turn to be sent into combat. Morgan uses his power to pinpoint the attacks and Nazem Kadri uses his shadow walking ability to instantly transport his teammates through the shadow realm. Eventually all the groups but one have gone. Mike stands with Nazem, Zach Hyman, and Auston Matthews, as they wait for Morgan to tell them where they’re needed.

“Something’s wrong.” Morgan says.

“What?” Mike asks.

“All the attacks are far from the tower, but…” Morgan pauses for almost a minute which may not seem like very long but if you’ve ever been waiting for someone to make a point than you will almost certainly agree that a minute can seem interminable.

“But?” Nazem eventually says.

“But tower security logged a perimeter breach right before the first attack.”

“They are trying to distract us.” Auston says.

“What floor was the breach on?” Mike asks.

“This one.” Morgan answers.

“They’re after Lou.” Auston says, everyone knows he is right.

“Come on!” Nazem pulls open a shadow door and the Leafs step through it, back into the bar.

The vampire is already there. Only one, not Dracula. A beautiful woman, she is holding Lou in an iron grip, pulling on his head to expose his neck. She smiles when she sees the Leafs.

“Ah yes, witnesses, so much sweeter.” Her voice is a whisper yet easy to hear. “My master is eager for you all to resume your attempts on his Castlevania. He hopes to prompt you.” She bares her fangs and plunges them into Lou’s neck before the Leafs can react.

“No!” Auston yells. But his words are not enough to turn back the cruel hands of time which seems to have run out for the legendary hockey man. Lou convulses as he is drained. The vampire throws his corpse to the floor, her smile never fading.

“Who’s next?” She takes a step forward, then pauses. She burps and her smile turns to confusion. Her confusion turns to agony as the shocked Leafs watch the vampire melt into a steaming puddle in less time than it takes to fart.

The puddle bubbles on the floor and slowly seeps over to Lou. His corpse begins to chuckle as the liquid is absorbed back into it. Slowly, shakily, Lou stands back up. He seems shinier, more himself than he had been just moments before, as if he were the one who had just fed.

“It’s always so cute,” Lou says. “The way they think I have human blood in me.” He picks up his bottle of liquor and drains it in one swig.

Toronto Maple Leaf Zach Hyman forces himself not to swear as he sees five more zombies shuffling into the alley. Zach has been slaying the undead all night but they just keep coming. The zombies are part of Dracula’s army. (Read more about that here or here.) Since the Leafs are the only organization in the world with the power to stop the ancient evil being unleashed Zach is eager to do his part. However, Unlike many of his teammates, Zach does not have any super powers.

This fact does not limit Zach in any way. He may not be a superhero, but he is a total bad-ass. Zach just needs to work a little harder than some of the other guys. He can’t slide into the shadows like Kadri so he ducks and weaves around his enemies. He can’t whip around as fast as a tornado like JVR so he puts every ounce of force he can into every swing of his battleaxe. The fact that things don’t come easy for Zach makes him even more proud to be a member of the Toronto Maple Leafs. But it has been a very long night, first a game of hockey and then jetting back to Toronto zombies fighting. Zach is running out of stamina.

Zach tightens his grip as the five new zombies get closer, suddenly their heads explode one at a time.

“What the hell kid, use a gun.” Ron Hainsey is one of the newest Maple Leafs. He also has no super powers, but unlike Zach Ron wears his mundane status like a badge of honour.

“I ran out of bullets over an hour ago.” Zach tries to match Ron’s bravado.

“You’ve been hacking at these things for an hour?” Ron is impressed.

“Over an hour.” Zach corrects.

“Well I still think this is stupid.” Ron says, making the same complaint he’s been making all night. “There has to be a source somewhere, zombies don’t just appear. We are wasting our time and effort cleaning the streets, we ought to find the source.”

“Coach says…” Zach can’t even make his point before Ron interupts.

“Coach says, coach says, I know what coach says.” Ron is obviously cranky. “I just don’t care. These things are never going to stop until somebody finds where they are coming from, and they are not coming from that castle, it’s somewhere else.”

“How can you be sure?” Zach asks more to placate his teammate than anything else.

“Call it a hunch.” Ron says, then elaborates when he sees Zach’s expression. “Castlevania is due North of the city right, well these guys are popping up all over the place which means the are not just pouring out of the castle gate. I’m telling you, there’s more to these zombies attacks than there seems.”

“So what do we do?” Zach asks.

“Trust me.” Ron smiles and Zach feels afraid for the first time all night.

The Leafs sneak through the shadows avoiding the roving packs of zombies that wander aimlessly through the deserted Toronto streets. Soon Zach notices a definite pattern to the zombies movements, the are radiating out from a single central source and Zach knows that he and Ron are close to it.

Rounding a corner the Leafs are bathed in the warm glow of a trans-dimensional portal. A small pack of zombies walks out of it shuffling right past Zach and Ron. After about thirty seconds another group of zombies follows.

“Told you.” Ron says.

“We gotta tell the guys.” Zach says.

“We could.” Ron says before he sprints into the magical light.

This time Zach swears as he chases his teammate. Pain tears Zach into a million tiny pieces and then slams him back together again in less time than it takes for a heart to beat. He and Ron are standing in a volcanic wasteland, a hellscape of terror and flame. The portal they came out of is one of six that is being used to transport millions of zombies to Toronto. The zombies are being corralled through the portals by whip-like tendrils of energy emanating from a massive crystal that floats above the nightmare plain. The crystal glows with the same light as the portals.

“Told you.” Ron smiles before opening fire on the zombies.

As one the army of flesh eaters turns toward the Leafs. Even if they both killed thousands there would be millions more to take their place. Ron doesn’t seem bothered by this math, but Zach most definitely is. There is no time to complain though as the horde is soon upon them. There is no time for anything but the next swing. Calling on reserves Zach never knew he had, the young Leaf works harder than ever in his life. He knows it will not be enough but he doesn’t stop. Nearby he can hear Ron laughing between the gunshots. With a detached amusement Zach wonders what the American Leaf will do when he finally runs out of ammunition.

There is an explosion somewhere nearby and all of a sudden there are no zombies in ax range. Zach looks up and sees a squad of Toronto Maple Leafs standing at the portal, guns blazing. Ron runs over to Zach and pulls him toward the rest of the Leafs.

“Looks like we don’t get to die tonight.” Ron is still smiling.

“You’re crazy.” Zach is too stunned to say more.

“Me?” Ron barks a laugh. “You’re the one who ran into those things with nothing but an ax. You’re a total psycho, man! I love it, Go Leafs!” This last he shouts over his shoulder as he drags Zach back to a more familiar reality.

“Wait!” Zach pulls away from Ron. “They have to blow up the crystal, you were right, that’s the source.”

Without a second thought Zach leaps back through the portal. Only a few Leafs are still on the other side, the retreat is almost finished. Morgan Rielly notices Zach first.

“What are you doing?” Morgan demands. “Just stay rescued.”

“We need to destroy that crystal.” Zach has to shout over the steady gunfire. “It’s the only way to close the portals.”

Morgan understands what needs to happen without any further explanation, he also understands that once the crystal is destroyed there will be no way back to Toronto.

“Leafs!” Morgan speaks into his team communicator. “New plan, everybody back, I’ll be right behind you.”

Zach tries to protest but Morgan shoves him through the portal, tired as he is Zach falls back and lands on the cold Toronto street. A dozen Leafs and prospects stand around the portal watching for Morgan. Silence grips them all as they wait. The harsh reality of what it means to be a Toronto Maple Leaf weighs on all their minds. Almost a full minute passes. Suddenly the edges of the portal begin to flicker. Morgan dives through at the last second before it winks out of existence. A zombie arm clings to his pants, sheared off at the elbow.

“You did it Ron.” Morgan is panting a bit but seems otherwise unharmed. “You’re intel was right on the money.”

“Don’t look at me.” Ron says. “I just found the way in. Zach did all the work.”

Zach shakes his head, too tired to argue. As his teammates slap him on the back he wonders again at his good fortune. It may be hard, but being a Maple Leaf is the greatest job ever.

The Toronto Maple Leaf atrium is empty but for two men who sit side by side on a bench eating lunch.

“There’s no way Jesus was a carpenter.” Lou Lamoriello says between chews of his pastrami sandwich. The meat is bad for his heart but Lou gives very few fucks.

“That’s not really, I mean, what?” Brendan Shanahan thought Lou had called him to a meeting to discuss his legal issues, not eat sandwiches and discuss theology. Still, Brendan can’t help but appreciate the warmth of the thick cut marble rye in his hands. It is a very good sandwich.

“Think about it.” Lou does not stop eating as he speaks. “Carpentry is way to easy, the only difference from then to now is that we have electric saws and nail guns. Other than that nothing has changed, measure, cut, nail, repeat. There’s no way you are suffering for all mankind doing a brainless chore like that.”

“So what do you think he did?” Brendan swallows his food before talking.

“It’s obvious.” Says Lou, not letting a single fleck of meat escape his flapping maw. “Jesus was a plumber. Think about it, dealing with shit all day would have made lepers seem like a break. Plus they fused all the pipes with lead back then, which explains all the hippy-dippy love and peace talk. He was high on the lead fumes, who else talks with god on the regular but a dope headed doper. It all adds up to a conspiracy to hide the truth.”

“Okay, but why would anyone want to cover that up?” Brendan thinks his question is reasonable, just like he thinks bringing a drink to accompany the sandwich would have been reasonable.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lou asks. “Everybody hates plumbers, they are the ugly fat ex of the trades. No one even wants to talk about them, let alone give them any sort of distinction. Much cleaner to give the son of the lord an easy job like carpentry.”

“I don’t see what this has to do with the team.” As President of the Toronto Maple Leafs Brendan rarely indulges in diversions for long.

“I thought it was obvious.” Lou says. “Whatever we do, the people who write our story are going to make up whatever they want to fit their angle.”

“I like our team.” Brendan says. “I think our forwards are scary and I feel like our defense is sneaky good.”

“We won’t surprise anyone this year.” Lou remind Brendan.

“I don’t think it will matter.” Nothing can dampen Brendan’s spirit. “I think they learned a lot in that series with Washington. I think they saw how thin the line is between victory and defeat, and they saw what it looks like when a team pushes together. I know it won’t be easy, it only gets harder the closer we get to the prize. I wish I could go out there and skate with them, but instead I find myself sitting back, managing my expectations. I didn’t think I would need to do that so quickly.”

“Well you better get used to it.” Lou says before he crams the last quarter of his sandwich into his mouth. He chews, breathing heavily, for several minutes before swallowing. “The team is good, not great, not yet, but they damn well could be. Here.” Lou reaches deep into a coat pocket and pulls out a cold beer, which he hands to Brendan before fishing up one for himself.

“I agree.” Brendan lets the cool beer ease his parched mouth before saying more. “We aren’t great yet, but I don’t think we do anything other than watch for at least the first quarter.”

“I would sign Jagr.” Lou says. “If I could convince him to play for the league minimum for a year.”

“Jagr?” Brendan is surprised. “Who’s spot do you think he will take?”

“Nobody’s.” Lou admits. “I figure he could sit in the press box all year instead of some kid who should be playing on the Marlies.”

“That’s actually not totally stupid.” Brendan says after another refreshing sip of beer. “But he’ll never agree to it.”

“I know.” Lou says before downing his entire beer in one chug. “Just like I know Jesus was a plumber.”

Brendan sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Just think about it.” the beer has let Lou’s passions slip. “If you were writing a book that you wanted to pass off as the one great book that everybody has to own would you really make that book about a turd herder? Not a chance. But I’m telling you I know tradesmen and that’s exactly what he was. working himself to the weary bone day after day just wishing and praying for some kind of way out. Then one night he had a hazy, lead induced, hallucination and the path was crystal clear. He abandoned his shitty job, pun intended, and sought out the secret wisdom of the ancients, which he then tried to teach to the rest of us. Too bad about his students being money hungry douchers, but at least the man tried.”

“Amen.” Brendan replies, not really sure what else he can say.

“Goddamned right, amen.” Lou agrees loudly. “And another thing, I think we gotta lay off Castlevania for a few weeks.”

Dracula’s mythical castle has risen in Toronto, and only the Maple Leafs have the power to stop the dread lord from reigning terror on the world, making Lou’s request seem ludicrous. Brendan treats it as such, not even answering.

“Just hear me out.” Lou insists. “If it looks like we are focused on hockey we might be able to trick the vampires into lowering their guard.”

“I suppose.” Brendan looks sceptical. “But I won’t let anything happen to the city.”

“Of course not.” Lou agrees. “If Dracula sends monsters out into the streets we’ll stop them, let’s just take a break on dungeon crawls.”

At that moment an alarm sounds throughout Toronto Maple Leaf Tower. Brendan checks his phone.

“Speak of the devil.” The President can’t help but smile. “Monsters in the streets.” Brendan activates his team communicator. “Go Leafs! Go!”

Newly acquired Toronto Maple Leaf Patrick Marleau howls as he thrashes at the walls of his cell. His claws gouge into the meter thick reinforced concrete. If his fury were under control he would likely have escaped confinement with ease. That is the problem, his fury is not under control. That is why Patrick insisted on being locked away in the bowels of Toronto Maple Leaf Tower. No one could hear him scream, no one could get hurt.

Patrick is a Lycanthrope, pretty much a werewolf. The biggest difference is that he wasn’t cursed by a wolf bite, rather he was born with the preternatural ability to transform himself into a wolf/man hybrid. Growing up in the eighties on the Saskatchewan prairies gave Patrick plenty of opportunity to let loose, which in turn helped the pup learn how to control himself.

Not since his days playing junior hockey in Seattle had Patrick felt so helpless to control the whims of the beast that stirs his heart. Back then it had been the thrill of leaving home and the excitement of the big city that had inspired his outburst. This time it’s different. Patrick is a true pro, a veteran of twenty NHL campaigns, but he feels nervous.

It’s a good kind of nerves, the kind that comes from a journey into unknown territory. That’s what the fast approaching hockey season is for Patrick. He has never played hockey for a Canadian team in a Canadian city. Patrick didn’t count the Olympics, a short tournament wasn’t the same as a full season. For the first time in his career Patrick was playing for fans who would avidly scrutinize every second of every shift. The burden of accountability had proven too much for some and a small part of Patrick fears a similar fate. Only a small part though. Patrick has plenty of game left in him, plenty to show the young stars emerging on the Toronto Maple Leaf roster. It’s been a long time since Patrick felt eager to impress anyone, he’s excited. The beast is excited.

Gnashing his wulfen teeth and thrashing at the walls does little to calm the beast so he fails to notice the arrival of a witness to his rage.

“Hello Patrick.” Mike Babcock says as he opens the door to Patrick’s cell. The head coach of the Toronto Maple Leafs doesn’t even flinch as Patrick leaps at his throat.

“Sit.” Mike says.

The snarling maw closes. The beast lands and settles on its haunches eyeing Mike cautiously. The coach reaches into his pocket and Patrick flinches, Mike pulls out a live mouse which he tosses into the air. Patrick makes sure it doesn’t suffer even as the beast makes a meal of the treat.

“Good boy.” Mike says. “Let Paddy out.”

The wolf resists, it growls and spits, then it whimpers. There is a creak and a wet pop and slowly Patrick’s muzzle recedes and his teeth return to their normal shape.

“Thanks coach.” Patrick says. “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay to start the year.”

“You better be.” Mike doesn’t raise his voice but he sounds angry. “We really need you to be at you best this year. We brought you here for a very specific reason.”

“I know coach.” Patrick says. “I promise I will do everything I can to help the boys learn about being a pro. I’ll never, ever…”

“Are you talking about hockey?” Mike interrupts. “I don’t care about that.”

“What?” Patrick is stunned. “But I thought you signed me to be a mentor to the younger guys on the team.”

“Whatever.” Mike says with a shrug. “Obviously you’ll be a mentor of sorts, all that will figure itself out on the ice, I’m not here to talk about that.”

“Then what was the specific reason I was brought on to the team?” Patrick asks.

“This.” Mike holds up his phone in answer.

A video plays on the screen. Toronto Maple Leafs Morgan Rielly and Leo Komarov battle a single, slightly fat, gentleman in a room packed with treasure. Even in slow motion the combat is a blur but it is clear to Patrick that the Leafs are in trouble. There is an explosion and the screen goes dark as Mike puts his phone away.

“Is that a… a…?” Patrick stammers

“A vampire.” Mike confirms. “Yes it was.”

“You gotta let me go.” Patrick scrambles to find some clothes. “I can help them, I can fight those things. Hurry!”

“It’s okay.” Mike puts a hand on Patrick’s fuzzy shoulder. “This video is from a week ago, the boys are fine.” (Read the story here)

Patrick visibly relaxes as Mike continues.

“We know you can fight them, better, you can beat them. We know all about the infestation of blood suckers on the west coast. You did good work out there, now you need to do good work up here.”

“This doesn’t make sense.” Patrick scratches his fur. “Our investigations proved that the only vampires left in North America are juveniles, none with more than a century of life, but that vamp you showed me was…”

“Ancient.” Mike finishes for Patrick.

“But that’s impossible. Unless…” Patrick is stunned speechless by his own logic. He cannot bring himself to name the horror that he knows he must face.

“That’s right Patrick.” Mike is merciless in his revelations. “The legends were all true. Castlevania has returned, and it is here, right under our feet. Dracula’s powers grow as we speak and only the Toronto Maple Leafs can stand in his way. So, are you in?”

Patrick doesn’t answer immediately. The beast within him has settled right down. The year to come will be the most difficult and the most important of his entire life. There is no choice to be made. Patrick has been a hero for a long time. Now he’s a Leaf, and the truth of it goes deeper then any jersey. He slams his closed fist against his heart.

“Go Leafs.” Patrick says.

A horde of reanimated skeletons fills the corridor in front and behind Toronto Maple Leafs Morgan Rielly and Leo Komarov. The Leafs are trying to assault Dracula’s ‘Castlevania’ but progress is slow. The mythical terror was discovered weeks ago (read the story) but the Leafs had still not advanced further than the basement. The issue was the endless supply of undead that seem to fill every square meter of the place.

The densely packed hallway makes Leo smile. He laughs and unleashes his super power. Leo is a human rocket. He propels himself straight through the skeletons, practically clearing the path for Morgan. Morgan also has a super power, less explosive but essential to the mission. Morgan is a techno-path, meaning he is able to connect to any form of digital technology in his vicinity. This power allows Morgan to upload a digital map of the dungeon to the Leafs mainframe in real time which is very useful but doesn’t help with the skeletons. For that Morgan has a Toronto Maple Leaf enchanted mace, and he smashes through the skeletons not devastated by Leo’s attack as he jogs down the hall.

The skeletons chasing the Leafs rattle along steadily. Morgan reaches Leo and turns to face the oncoming horde.

“You gonna make me deal with all these ones by myself?” Morgan asks. “Or are you going to open that door?”

“Checking for traps first.” Leo does not turn from the ornate iron door he is inspecting.

“Take your time.” Morgan says.

The skeletons voiceless procession makes for a grim spectacle. Leo seems to take Morgan at his word, putting his Toronto Maple Leaf lock-pick into the latch and waiting. The Skeletons get closer. Morgan tightens his grip on his mace. He only has one grenade left and he doesn’t want to waste it which means he will have to deal with the skeletons the old fashioned way.

Morgan swears at the same time that the door clicks, and as it creaks open the skeletons all stop, as though frozen.

“Crap.” Leo says.

“Welcome.” A strange voice whispers. “My master wanted me to send his regards. He wonders why you are trespassing so aggressively.”

Morgan and Leo enter a room filled with gold. Coins, plates, bricks and jewellery of every kind are piled to the ceiling with only a small bare spot in the middle of the room. A pale and portly middle aged gentleman stands there frowning with disgust at the Leafs.

“Don’t answer.” The gentleman says, brushing dirt off of his expensive looking tuxedo. “Master says that you are to meet him at the top of the tower. Master sleeps there, he waits. Master also says that you will never reach him alive.” He grins, brandishing the brutal teeth of a bloodsucking bastard. “That’s why I’m here.”

Leo wastes no time, rocketing at the vampire. The undead leaps above the Leaf, drawing a wicked thin rapier and stabbing down into Leo as he passes, this is a mistake. Leo cannot be hurt when using his power so instead of dodging and striking the vampire manages only to foul his own landing. Leo crashes into a pile of gold, the vampire crashes face first on the floor. Morgan steps in quickly to take advantage but the vampire looks up at the Leaf and laughs before vanishing.

“Where is it?” Leo asks as he struggles free of the treasure.

“Here!” The vampire answers, appearing directly behind Leo and slashing at the Leafs neck.

Leo barely gets a rocket powered arm in the way. With a hiss the vampire stabs at Leo again and again. It is all the Leaf can do to maintain his defense.Morgan charges in behind the vampire but again the undead dodges Morgan’s mace at the last second.

Battle is joined now and the Leafs utilize every tactic and maneuver they’ve perfected over the years of working and playing together. Leo uses every ounce of super human speed and strength he has. Morgan analyzes and anticipates his opponent with the speed of a super computer. It is all the Leafs can do to hold their own against the unbelievable power of the vampire.

“Ha! Master sent me because I am old, I am strong, you cannot match me!” The vampire cackles.

The Leafs step back and the combatants all stand in silent accord that a break in the action is allowed.

“You have no hope.” The vampire is smiling. “I will not even let you flee. Perhaps your deaths will teach some caution to the rest of your pathetic team.”

Morgan and Leo don’t answer. They know the vampire is right about their chances. Morgan sends a distress signal to Toronto Maple Leaf tower but he knows help won’t make it in time. It doesn’t matter, they will fight. They will find a way to win or they will die, but they will never give up. Toronto Maple Leafs never give up.

“Go! Leafs! Go!” Morgan and Leo shout in unison as they step up their assault.

The vampire laughs, kicking Morgan in the face and scratching at Leo’s eyes with his claws. Suddenly all three are forced to the ground as a massive force explodes in the center of the room. Two of the walls are blown apart scattering gold and rubble everywhere.

“What is this?” The vampire is first to his feet hissing in rage.

The Leafs come around a bit slower but are also shocked at what they see.

The phenomenal Toronto Maple Leaf, Auston Matthews, stands in the center of the chaos. He is naked, dripping wet, holding a broadsword that is also naked. The vampire wastes no words on Auston, springing to attack. Too fast for even Morgans digitally enhanced vision to follow the duelists clash steel. The fight is over almost as quickly as it starts.

The vampire staggers back. “That’s imposs…” His head rolls onto the floor before he can finish the word.

“Either of you guys got a towel?” Auston asks.

Morgan tosses his young teammate a Toronto Maple Leaf emergency outfit capsule and soon Auston is dressed in blue and white sweats.

“How’d you do that?” Leo asks.

You would be forgiven for thinking the Leaf a tad ungrateful. What you must realize is that as per Toronto Maple Leaf team bylaws no rookie may use their super powers outside of Toronto Maple Leaf tower. As awesome as Auston is he will still technically be a rookie until the puck drops on his second season. There are spectacular consequences to breaking Toronto Maple Leaf rules, yet none of those consequences are taking effect. Leo’s concern is for the integrity of the Leafs. Auston understands.

“I didn’t use any powers.” Auston says.

Leo and Morgan wait for him to elaborate.

“I’m seriously guys.” Auston continues. “I’ve been meditating on the nature of time and it’s relationship with space all summer. What I’ve come to realize is that matter flows through space like a river and time is the riverbank. I’ve been practicing my experience within the flow. Like most people I started out like a leaf on the river but now I am more like an otter. I was in the shower when your distress signal came in, I didn’t even think about it I just came here. I don’t even know how I got my sword other than I needed it. Needed my pants too but I guess I still have some learning to do.”

Leo and Morgan are both stunned. The implications of what Auston is telling them are vast. They do not doubt his word for a moment, Leafs do not lie to Leafs, but they worry for his safety. There are limits to human potential and pushing those limits can have catastrophic results, just look at Zdeno Chara’s nose.

Instead of debating the dangers versus the merits of independent experimentation, the Leafs go home. The assault on Castlevania will continue another day.

August is hurtling toward an end, summer follows close behind. All across the world elite and average hockey players alike are getting that familiar felling. Ice is in the air, the time is getting closer. This means that all across North America the proud and lucky few in the National Hockey League are making their way back to their home rinks. Not the Toronto Maple Leafs though, they all got back to work on May 8th, two weeks after their defeat at the hands of the Washington Capitals.

Months of hard work has not eased the sting of that lose, only victory will do that. But the Leafs do not dwell, and on rare occasions they even take a little time to relax. On one such occasion Matt Martin; Nazem Kadri; Nikita Zaitsev; Jake Gardiner; and Martin Marincin are enjoying some chicken wings at the Crown and Dragon. The Leafs sit at a back table doing their best to ignore the many glances directed at their table.

The table the Leafs share is overflowing with chicken bones and pitchers of beer. Once training camp begins their diet is closely monitored, and nights like this will be a happy memory to carry the Leafs through the season long parade of  kale-pasta and protein flakes. A server arrives and starts clearing bone-plates.

“You guys want anymore?” She can hardly believe the amount the five Leafs have eaten.

“One more pound of the Cuban Sun please.” Martin asks.

“And I’ll take another two of Dragons Breath.” Matt adds.

“And an order of Calamari.” Nazem chimes in. “And two more pitchers.”

“Three!” Jake shouts at the retreating server “I hope she heard me.”

The Leafs laugh, except for Nikita. Of all the Leafs, only Nikita looks a little down. His teammates do not miss this and they all lean in closer to him. Martin places a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, it will happen.” The other Leafs mutter their agreement as Martin continues. “It’s different for everybody and you cant rush these things. You are doing everything right. Now you just need to be patient.”

Nikita looks anguished. He holds the eye of each of his teammates and sees only support, yet no comfort is given the Russian Leaf. Nikita takes a swig of beer.

“I just want to get my powers now.” He says, slamming his pint on the table.

Not all NHL players are super powered vigilante crime fighters, but there are more than a few who are. The Toronto Maple Leafs are the only team with the budget to operate on a global scale. Every player to wear the Maple Leaf has aided in this effort in one way or another. Not every player has super powers, or the inclination to risk their lives. Tie Domi, for example, was a stubborn pacifist off the ice but he was an amazing pilot.

“Martin’s right.” says Jake. “It’s different for everybody. Different age, different situations. Just be patient with yourself. You’ll know it when it happens.”

“How can you be sure?” Nikita asks. “What if I miss it?”

“You won’t.” Martin says looking pale and intense. “Believe me.”

“How did you know for sure you had powers?”

“I don’t like to talk about it.” Martin says, taking a drink.

“Naz, tell your story.” Jake prompts his friend and teammate. “This is so funny, go on.”

“You tell your story.” Nazem replies.

“My story is long and boring. Your story is awesome. Go.” Jake can turn into a snake and then split into over 1500 smaller snakes. His story is not boring. It is long though.

“I discovered my powers in my first season with team.” Nazem says with a laugh. “And yeah, the story is kind of funny.” Nazem has unlimited access to the shadow realm. This allows him to step in to, and out of, any shadow anywhere.

“We were on a road trip and I had stayed out way past curfew. I was sneaking back into the hotel when I heard Burkie yelling.” Burkie is Brian Burke former Toronto Maple Leafs GM. “I needed to hide but there was nothing nearby except a shadow filled corner. I figured I was boned, but I did my best to blend in with the shadows and he just walked right past me, shouting at his phone.”

“Tell him what happened next.” Jake prompts.

“You weren’t even on the team back then.” Nazem says.

Jake just smiles.

“In my defense,” Nazem continues. “I had never been in the Shadow Realm before. I got stuck.”

The Leafs all laugh at this. Three pitchers of beer are brought to the table.

“Foods on the way boys.” The server says.

The Leafs fill their glasses, the welcome glow of merriment fading.

“That is a funny story.” Matt says. “Mine isn’t. My discovery almost cost me my career.”

None of the Leafs know the story of Matt’s Vortex Force, they listen with rapt attention.

“It was right in the middle of a game against Pittsburgh. You gotta understand that the Island isn’t like it is here.” Matt started his career with the New York Islanders. “Guys didn’t really talk about their powers with anyone who didn’t have ’em, and I didn’t have any, Just like you bud.” Matt nods to Nikita.

Nikita nods back but doesn’t seem relieved at all. Matt continues his story.

“So we were playing the Penguins and the Kid was being his usual self.” He means Sidney Crosby. “Anyway, the second period was nearly over and I remember wanting to punch his stupid teeth in so bad, then the next thing I knew he was right there in front of me. Just sucked right in. We were both stunned and I could see Sid was pissed. I’m lucky I was too surprised to punch him because he filed a complaint against me with the union.” The Leafs all share Matt’s contempt for such a cowardly retaliation. “Anyway, my teammates all backed my story, that I had no idea about my powers, and it ended up okay. But it just proves that there is no way to know…” Matt is interrupted by his cellphone ringing. “Shit, it’s the man.” Matt says. The Leafs fall silent as Matt answers his phone.

“Mr. Shanahan.” Brendan Shanahan is the Toronto Maple Leafs president, a hero of great renown and legend of the NHL, Matt speaks with a hushed reverence. “Is everything alright? No sir. No sir. Yes sir. And Martin as well, yes. Yes. Thank you.” Matt hangs up and breathes with his eyes closed.

“Well?” Jake asks.

“We’re good.” Matt sighs.

A general cheer greets this news, followed by more cheering as food arrives. They eat and drink merrily until interrupted by a sudden violent crash near the front of the pub.

“Everybody stay cool, this is a robbery!” A skinny punk is waving a shotgun around at the collected patrons. He looks scared and high, a dangerous combination.

“Fuck.” Nazem says. “Who wants to distract him?”

Nikita stands up and moves toward the gunman as Nazem disappears into the shadows. Nikita walks slowly with his hands up, the punk finally notices him.

“Sit down! Stop moving! I said stop!” The terror in the would be gangsta’s voice is unmistakable.

“It’s cool.” Nikita says. “It’s cool. Do you know who I am?”

“Should I?” The punk takes a good look at Nikita. “Wait. Holy shit are you…”

“That’s right.” Nikita smiles.

“Go Leafs.” The punk is reduced to a fan instantly.

“Me and my friends were just having a nice dinner.” Nikita points to the Leafs table.

“Oh…” The punks eyes widen as he takes in the three other Leafs. “Um… I’m… Uh…Sorry.”

“Not yet, you’re not.” Nazem steps out of the shadows and drops the loser with a right hook.

The other restaurant patrons begin to cheer and soon a “Go Leafs Go!” chant is echoing into the night. Nikita picks up the shotgun and Nazem waves to the other Leafs. Jake, Matt and Martin get up to join their teammates. Martin brings his wings.

“Almost got through the whole night.” Jake says with a sad smile.

“Lets just get out of here.” Nazem says. “Pay him Marty.”

Martin winces as he pulls a roll of fifties out of his pocket. That’s his power, he can generate any currency in any amount simply by willing it into existence. He doesn’t really like to talk about it because it hurts, like pulling a nose hair, every time. Martin hands the cash to the bartender who refuses to take it. Martin leaves it on the bar.

The Leafs walk out on to Yonge street, the “Go Leafs Go!” chant follows them as they make their way quickly to the Toronto Maple Leaf stealh-jet car hidden in the back alley.

“Wait.” Nikita says before he gets into the vehicle. “How did you get out of the Shadow Realm that first time, Naz?”

“Get in.” Naz says over Jake’s laughter. “I’ll tell you about the old Leafs sorcerer, Tomas Kaberle, and what he made me do before he would agree to bring me back .”

The magnificent Toronto Maple Leaf, Mitch Marner, is not having fun. It’s not the gloomy warehouse or the gun toting goons with their hail of bullets that troubles him, not directly. Mitch is annoyed because he could be at home playing the classic video game Castlevania: Symphony of the Night right now, Mitch had only just flipped the castle earlier in the day. All he could think about was the thrilling grind to come, but instead of kicking Dracula’s ass Mitch was stuck fighting a bunch of loser goons who didn’t even have a cool theme or suits or anything.

“This sucks.” Mitch shouts out to the courageous Toronto Maple Leaf, Connor Brown.

“Yeah.” Connor is also not enjoying himself, but his concern is mainly the incoming gunfire. “Wish we could use our powers.”

Connor and Mitch have super powers, as do most of the Leafs, but since they are technically rookies they aren’t allowed to use them. As soon as the puck drops on the new season they will be unleashed, but until then they have to rely on mundane means to overcome their enemies. The summer has been painful, after losing their last game, and with only a few short months left the two young Leafs are both beyond eager to get going.

“Mitch, six!” Connor yells, spotting a villian trying to flank the pair. Mitch flings a shuriken over his shoulder without so much as a glance and bullseyes the criminals gun barrel. The deadly throwing star pierces the bullet being fired and the gun explodes, taking the goons hands off.

“Hey!” Connor shouts. “No powers.”

Mitch just grins in response. He hadn’t broken the rule, his teammate would know this too. Breaking team rules had immediate and spectacular  consequences.

A fresh hail of gunfire rattles against the Leafs cover. Mitch pulls out a smoke grenade and rolls it out into the line of fire. Thick white smoke fills the aisle between the goons and where the Leafs are pinned down.

“Move through the smoke.” A boss goon commands. “They’re trying to escape!”

“All yours.” Mitch says smiling.

Connor gently lobs an incendiary grenade into the smoke and promethean hellfire destroys the whole gang. The smoke and fire dissipate gradually and the Leafs make their way past the smouldering devastation, deeper into the now silent warehouse.

The Leafs pass aisle after aisle of  cargo containers with labels like GARGOYLES, MAGIC AXES, DRAGON SKULLS, CANDLES, POT ROAST, and other seemingly random  items. Something about the labels tickles at Mitch’s attention, a tantalizing knot that he just can’t quit unravel.

There is an enclosure at the center of the warehouse which the Leafs approach cautiously. The circle the squat box of a room finding only a single steel door with an intricately carved ‘deaths head’ handle. Mitch tries the handle and finds it locked. As he pulls his hand away the handles eyes glow a gleaming red.

A low growl fills the warehouse and the steel door is flung open. Inside the enclosure a massive grey hound, as large as an elephant stands snarling at the intruders. Fire burns in its eyes and smoke billows out of its snout.

Mitch and Connor act without thinking in a perfectly coordinated assault. Mitch sprints left, Connor to the right. Simultaneously they Leafs draw their sidearms and fire of three rounds each. Their shots are grouped perfectly on the dread hounds eyes. the creature erupts into flame and burns to dust quickly and silence once again fills the room.

The first thing Mitch notices is that the inside of the room is way bigger than the outside. Nearly a hundred meters behind the ashes of the dog is another ornate steel door. Blue flamed candles line the neatly cut stone walls on either side. The familiarity of this scene is driving Mitch to distraction. The cargo in the warehouse; the burning hound; the blue candles; they were all connected. If only Mitch could remember how.

Frustrated the Leaf punches one of the candles. Connor turns at the noise and both Leafs are disgusted when a human heart oozes out of the wall where the candle was. With a wet thump the heart hits the floor.

“That’s it!” Mitch is excited. He starts shooting at candles with growing enthusiasm. “I can’t believe it.”

“Believe what?” Connor asks.

Mitch is not listening. He shoots the last of the candles off the wall, two more hearts lie oozing on the floor.

“There’s no way.” Mitch is talking to himself. “But what else could it be? I wonder if…Well it would it for sure.”

“Prove what?” Connor asks louder. “What do you think is going on? Fill me in.”

“Shhh” Mitch hisses at Connor then leans his head against the stone wall of the room. Connor just stares as his teammate slowly proceeds along the wall tapping his gun butt against the stone every few feet. Halfway to the further door Mitch stops and punches the stone with his bare hand. Connor winces needlessly as the stone dissolves revealing a beautifully cooked pot-roast. Mitch laughs and tears off a chunk of the meat to eat.

“I can’t believe it.” Mitch laughs. “It’s real, it’s here, I found it!” He grabs another handful of roast and stuffs it into his mouth, laughing all the time sending meat spraying.

Watching, Connor starts to worry about his teammate. He grabs Mitch by the shoulders and stares him straight in the eyes.

“What is going on?” Connor demands. “What did you find? Why is there meat hidden in the wall?”

“Don’t you see?” Mitch asks.”The hearts hidden in the candles, the fresh food in the walls, don’t you see? You know what that massive, but easily slaughtered, hell-hound was trying to protect, just think.”

“You aren’t making any sense.” Connor shakes his head. I’ve never seen anything close to this crazy.”

“Not in real life, no.” Mitch agrees. “But I know you’ve seen it because I’m borrowing your video game right now.”

“What?” Connor says, even as what Mitch is implying dawns on him. “You don’t mean…”

“You’re damn right I do.” Mitch says. “We’re standing in Castlevania! We found Dracula’s mythical home. It only appears every hundred years. It has entrances all over the world though it exists outside it. It is the home of the darkest evil this planet has ever known.”

“Well we gotta go in there.” Connor doesn’t even hesitate to suggest what is almost certainly a suicide mission.

“Hell yes!” Mitch was going with or without Connor.

Suddenly the door in front of them slams open. The Leafs step back and ready their pistols. There is no need. Toronto Maple Leaf Assistant Genera Mark Hunter sprints out of the darkness and throws the door shut behind him. Several muffled impacts thump against the heavy steel in the moments that follow.

Mark leans against the door panting. He is holding a long spear in one hand and a bulging burlap sack dripping blood in the other. His clothes are in tatters revealing dozens of scrapes and bruises.

The Leafs holster their weapons and stand at attention, waiting for Mark to recover. He does so quickly and takes in his surroundings. Wordless, the big man strides over to one of the hearts, now somewhat deflated, still oozing on the floor. Marks picks up the organ and swallows it whole. The effect is immediate, the more grievous of Marks wounds close themselves and his strength is replenished.

Mark turns his cold-eyed stare onto the young Leafs and nods toward the exit once before walking away.

“Wait!” Mitch shouts. “Aren’t we even going to get to see it?”

Mark stops walking.

“Never mind.” Mitch says as he hurries to catch up before Mark has to repeat himself.

The sensational Swedish Toronto Maple Leaf, William Nylander, stares up at the clouds. His boat Snizz Whizz rolls on the waves of the North Atlantic, the coast of Norway is a dark smear on the southern horizon. Snizz Whizz has been on the water for four days, drifting to and fro where the ocean takes her. Typically the summer seas are peaceful and playful, and most of Wily’s voyage has been under a sun blessed sky. Today, finally, dark clouds rise up in the North and a cold wind heralds a coming storm. Wily raises a long harpoon, carved from a Narwhal horn, and bellows at the sky.

“Witness!” Wily’s blonde hair is tossed by an answering gust of wind.

“Vem pratar du med?” The woman, one of Wily’s special friends, simply refuses to speak English. “Kan vi åka hem? Det är kallt.”

“We should be heading home soon.” Wily assures her. “Just go sit with the others below deck for a little. The storm should pass quickly.”

“Kommer du?” She asks.

Wily has forgotten her name, and her formal Swedish is getting on his nerves. She is very attractive though and Wily is loath to disappoint a lady.

“I have some things I have to do.” The Leaf gives her one of his less devastating smiles, it still dazzles her. “I’ll come down when I’m finished. I might be a little wet.”

“Oroa dig inte.” She says with a wicked grin. “Att vi blir våta också”

Wily just shakes his head with a chuckle and turns his attention back to the gathering gloom. He stares out across the tempest tossed waters, not even worrying about the Snizz Whizz or her brave crew. His only thought is for what’s coming up from the depths. Wily’s patience is set, he will wait all day if he must. His gaze rests on the rolling waves, his grip tightens on the harpoon, his mind wanders to the conflict to come, his phone rings. At first he doesn’t recognize his new ringtone and when he does he is surprised to see who’s calling.

“Hello?” Wily says almost sheepishly.

“God damn it you beautiful Swede, how long were you planning on letting your phone ring?” It is Toronto Maple Leaf GM and living hockey legend Lou Lamoriello. “What if I was calling to tell you I’m sending you to Colorado?”

“Are you trading me?” Wily is shocked at the notion.

“That’s not the god damnable point is it? The point is that you need to answer your phone when I call, and you need a hair cut.”

“I just got a hair cut last week.” Wily lies.

“Well you need another one. Golden locks are probably flapping in the breeze right now. And stop messing around with all those girls.”

“What girls?” Wily asks, hoping Lou has no specific girls in mind. he is not looking at the coming storm anymore and so misses a plume of spraying water in the distance.

“I don’t know, all of them.” Lou growls. “Whatever girls you’re messing around with, stop it. And cut your hair.”

“I’m not messing around with any girls Lou.” This is not technically a lie since Wily respects the six special friends he brought along enough to consider them women.

“Bullshit.” Lou rarely accepts technicalities. ” I bet there are at least five girls within spitting distance of your balls right now. If you bring the clap into my dressing room I’m gonna neuter you with a cheese grater. Is that what you want? In front of the whole god damned team? I’ll do it, I swear.”

“Lou, I believe you, okay, I believe you. ” Wily really did believe him. “I promise I am always careful, and I’m not even messing around with any one right now.” Also not technically a lie since there was six of them.

“You better not be. And you better cut your hair.” Lou lets the command hang.

“Yes sir.” Wily answers, knowing when not to push.

“Look, the reason I called,” Lou clears his throat. “Like I said, I know you’re always meeting up with different girls and I was wondering if you could hook me up.”

“What?” Wily is stunned. The spray plumes closer to the Snizz Whizz now, but Wily still doesn’t notice.

“Never mind, it’s stupid, just forget it.” Lou almost sounds flustered. “Cut your hair.”

“No, it’s fine.” Wily knows laughing out loud would be suicide, but it’s a struggle. “I can send you a few numbers, no problem. You gotta close your own deal though.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Lou says. “I have cash, and if that doesn’t work I have weed and liquor.”

“Then you’re golden.” This time Wily laughs. “Lou, I’m going to let you go, and I’ll send you those numbers right away okay. Great, bye.”

Wily drops Lou before the GM can respond. With a glance out at the heaving sea,Wily forwards a couple of old contacts to Lou, women who like money, who will like Lou. Wily has to put down his harpoon for the task and so he is unarmed when the moment he has been waiting for finally arrives.

The Sjöorm, a massive sea serpent with a legendary ferocity, breaches directly in front of Snizz Whizz. Wily reacts quickly, picking up and hurling his harpoon hard. The plan had been to stick the beast by its throat, the job would be harder now with the harpoon piercing the scaly hide ten meters below. The coil of rope attached to the harpoon plays out quickly, Wily grabs on and is yanked off his feet.

Wily bounces off the Sjöorm’s hide once but plants his feet before looking down. Meter after meter of whale size bulk still erupts from a sea that is suddenly very far away. Wily looks up at the monsters head and climbs, knowing he needs to act fast.

Over generations the Sjöorm has adapted a hunting technique specifically designed to catch human sea traffic. The beast swims from the deepest depths as fast and as hard as it can. It breaches nearby the target vessel and lifts its whole gargantuan bulk out of the water. As gravity begins to assert itself the Sjöorm points its nose at the doomed ship and lets nature take over. Most incidents of ships vanishing are the result of a Sjöorm attack.

Wily reaches his harpoon as the Sjöorm begins to fall. He waits until he is above the head before pulling out the harpoon. Sprinting down the body is made harder by the slimy scales of the deep sea monster, luckily the beasts own massive size and strength have worked against it, giving Wily the time he needs to run up to Sjöorm’s great eyes. Wily drives his harpoon deep into the dread beasts skull and leans hard over, steering the Sjöorm away from Snizz Whizz.

The Leaf and the Sjöorm vanish into the water with hardly a splash. The crew of the Whizz scan the seas for any sign of their brave lord. Even the storm has backed off, as though watching to see who will prevail. A full two minutes passes before the Sjöorm breaches again, with Wily still gripping the harpoon lodged between its eyes. This time the Sjöorm does not get its whole body out of the water. Barely ten meters of monster emerges and it flops with a splash onto the now gently rocking seas.

Wily dives off the falling corpse and swims easily back to his boat even with the harpoons rope in his teeth. He hands the rope off to the captain of the Snizz Whizz before pulling himself on board.

“That took more killing than I expected.” Wily is not even breathing hard. “See that you get a bit of tongue captain, as well as at least two teeth. Smaller ones I think.”

“Aye Lord.” The captain answers.

“And fill the hold with as much meat as we can carry.” Wily says. “Give the rest to the depths.” Wily had hoped that this victory would ease the pain of losing the last game he played with his Toronto Maple Leafs. It hasn’t. Some of Wily’s sadness must have shown because the captain puts a tender hand on his shoulder.

“Are you hurt Lord?” The captains concern is heartfelt.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” Wily brushes the captains hand away. “Just make quick work of the harvest and point us home captain. It’s time to go home.”

Wily heads down below decks where his special friends are waiting for him in his private cabin. It will take almost a full day for the Whizz to get back to her harbor. From there Wily would be on the first flight back to Toronto. Until then he would just have to try to enjoy himself.