Auston Matthews squints in the late day sun. Half a block away a pirate lines up his antique flintlock pistol, aiming at the young Toronto Maple Leaf hero, drooling in concentration.

“Don’t.” Auston makes the request politely and futilely. The pistol explodes in a mess of smoke. The shot is well made, Auston can tell that the bullet will hit him just above his left eye. The Leaf considers his options.

A modern Glock 9mm pistol has an approximate bullets speed of 375 meters per second. From 20 meters away Auston would have easily been able to cut the bullet in half with his sword, sheathing the weapon before the halves hit the ground. The flintlock bullet travels at around 250 meters per second giving Auston a moment to pity the foolish mook in the pirate outfit that stands before him.

Deliberately Auston tilts his head to the right. The bullet seems to take forever to whiz by his ear.

“Did you want to try again? Or was that enough?”

The pirate swears. Loading a flintlock pistol is a tedious process which takes between 20 to 40 seconds for experts to complete. The pirate begins this process just as the phone in Auston’s phone begins to ring. His ringtone is ’50 Mission Cap’ by the Tragically Hip.

“Hello.” Auston holds up a ‘one sec’ finger to the pirate who does not look up from loading his pistol.

“Auston, Hello, it’s Mike.”

“Hey coach.” Mike Babcock doesn’t call Auston very often and the young Leaf wonders if there’s some trouble back in Toronto. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, everything’s fine, I just wanted to catch up with you, see how things are going. Must be nice to be with friends and family again.”

“It’s real nice coach.” The pirate looks up at last and stares at Auston, who is still holding up his finger. “I’ve been training really hard still, but its been fun catching up.”

The pirate fires, Auston swats the lead shot out of the air and glares at him.

“What was that?” Mike asks in a tone that suggests he knows exactly what it was.

“Just some stuff, it’s all good coach.” Auston holds the pirate with his steely glare and the would be criminal drops his gun. “Hey, I watched that movie you told me about.”

“The Rock?” Mike manages to keep his excitement understated.

“Yeah.”

“What did you think?”

“It was okay I guess.”

“Hey man!” The man in the pirate outfit shouts. “This is bullshit!”

“One sec coach.” Auston isn’t even close to losing his temper, but he lets a little of it show and the pirate takes a step back. “I’m on the phone. Run away or something. Go get some friends. I hear the hospital can get lonely.”

“What?” The pirate doesn’t understand.

“I’m going to hurt you.” Auston states plainly. He lifts his phone back to his ear. “I liked it when the one guy got shot by the rocket, and the old guy was pretty cool I guess.”

“You guess?” Mike is shocked. “Sean Connery is the best. He’s James Bond.”

“I like Bond okay. The Avengers are better.” Auston doesn’t look up as the pirate takes off down the street, but he walks over to retrieve the fallen pistol.

“Kids don’t know anything about good movies.” Mike proclaims.

“Say what you want coach. Spider-Man is awesome.” Auston retorts, flingging the pistol casually over his shoulder. The weapon flies about one hundred meters and hits the fleeing pirate square on the noggin, knocking him senseless.

“Of course Spider-Man is awesome.” Mike almost shouts. “Spider-Man was awesome before he was ever in a movie, just nobody noticed. Before comic book movies came along  screenplays could be original, and sometimes they even were. Now it’s all remakes and superheroes.”

‘Okay, so tell me what great movie I should watch next.” Auston is so sincere it’s hard to believe. “The Rock wasn’t bad. I’ll give old stuff another chance. I like history.”

“History.” Mike huffs. “Classics is what they are. You should watch ‘A Fish Called Wanda’ if you can find it. It’s from a time before cell phones or airport security.”

“Weird.” Auston is intrigued.

“It’s a great movie” Mike says. “Maybe we could watch it together when you get back into town. When are you coming back?”

“Not sure yet, coach.” Auston hasn’t stopped thinking about getting back onto the ice with his team. The sting of losing his last game hasn’t worn off at all. That doesn’t mean he’s ready to get back at it right away though. Life is for living after all. “But I would love to watch a fish movie with you.”

“It’s not about fish, in fact the fish isn’t really part of it, kind of.” Mike doesn’t want to spoil anything.

“Like I said, I’m totally in, coach, but I have to let you go now.” Auston has walked to were the pirate lays, starting to stir. “We’ll talk soon, okay.”

“Okay, Auston, talk soon, love you, bye, I love you…”

Auston drops the call knowing the coach will go on saying goodbye for ages.

The pirate struggles to raise his head. The strain makes him vomit which makes Auston hop back to avoid getting splatter on his shoes. The pirate rolls onto his back and howls at the sky. Immediately a strange sound whistles out of the pirates ears and before Auston can react the man flashes into steam with a wet pop. Then the howl is answered many times over.

Auston feels the hostile intent swarming toward him even as the shadows begin to move. Auston spins, shapes emerge all around him and in moments Auston is surrounded by a mob

Dozens of pants-less grey aliens wearing bright red ‘Make America Great Again’ hats and t-shirts circle Auston. They don’t say a word. For a long, tense, instant Auston matches their stillness. He breaths a perfect breath and upon exhale explodes into action.

The fight is short. The Greys seemed to think that their numbers and imposing presence would simply awe Auston into submission. Instead, with clockwork precision, Auston delivers knees, elbows, fists, and feet which demolish the soft grey flesh with ease. The few Greys that actually attempt to strike him do so with feeble and untrained skill. Auston doesn’t even draw his sword.

Not remotely out of breath Auston pulls the hat off of one of the fallen Greys. A wave of revulsion surges through the Toronto Maple Leaf as he reads it. America is not being made great. It is not Auston’s problem, not yet. For now he is focused on making the Maple Leafs great again. Even as he tears the cheap hat in two he knows his mind is made up. It’s time to go back to Toronto.

I’m going to get real here for a minute. I love the Leafs, we all do. We all want the Leafs to do well. So how can we help make that happen? Math would tell you that you can’t. We all know that’s a lie though. We all know the power our hearts and minds can bring to our existence, even if some of us find this knowledge terrifying. 

I am writing this as I listen to the Leafs play hockey. I was arguing with my wife as the opponent scored to take the lead. We talked it through and reached a compromise moments before Kadri tied the game.

So what, the discerning reader might ask. So everything, I would answer. Feel free to call me crazy, but I believe the following to be true: the more you love yourself the better the Leafs will do. Let me state that again.

THE MORE YOU LOVE YOURSELF THE BETTER THE LEAFS WILL DO 

Sounds crazy right. It’s okay, I know it does. Craziness does not negate truth (any nut can tell you that). I didn’t really believe this truth either, not for a very long time. Then life forced me to open my heart to the idea of self love. This happened shortly before Brendan Shanahan was hired, just saying.

As time has moved forward I have had some triumphs and some failures, I have kept moving. I have seen the effects of loving faith in my own worth, and I have seen what happens when I hate and hate and hate. 

To put it another way, what has anyone got to lose? 

Keep faith alive. Keep your heart open and patient. We have been entertained more this year than we have in a great many seasons. Feel happy. Who cares if the ref wants to make a stupid fluffy wiener call? Who cares if the team finishes tenth in the East, missing the playoffs and a top pick? 

We need to enjoy every moment of Marner and Matthews and Rielly and Nylander and all the rest. 

Anything can happen.

The more you love the Leafs and the Universe and everything, the better that anything will be.

iBLeaf

Tyler Bozak doesn’t feel the chill in the air. He only wears his Toronto Maple Leaf parka because of the camouflage it provides. The Toronto Maple Leaf standing with Tyler, hidden in the bushes beside a deserted playground, can’t feel anything except the cold in the air.

Mitch Marner is not enjoying his first patrol. It’s cold and wet and nothing has happened. Seven people have walked through the snow tonight. The only one who stopped did so to let their dog take a dump, which they did not pick up. Mitch cannot keep his teeth from chattering, but he has not complained.

“Check the scanner again.” Tyler says.

Mitch presses the large red button on the frost covered screen built into his glove. The screen blinks green light three times.

“Still nothing.” Mitch says.

“This sucks.” Tyler says surprising the young Leaf.

“Um, yeah.” Mitch agrees. “How much longer do we need to stay out here?”

“We get to stay out all night.” Tyler chuckles. “Or until a tentacle demon attacks something nearby.”

Mitch is silenced by the off hand mention of the demons. Mitch is eager to prove himself, but the tentacle demons are the stuff of nightmares. 

“Do you think there will be an attack?” Mitch fails to suppress a shiver.

“Hard to say.” Tyler knows he should say more, try to ease the rookies nerves. “We can handle them.”

“You can, what about me.” Mitch says. “I don’t even know if my powers will work against them.”

“Of course they will.” Tyler answers. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“I don’t know.” Mitch is quiet for a moment. “I guess I’m just scared.”

Tyler waits for more but Mitch offers nothing. The cold thickens and seeps into the deep places of the Leafs.

“You want to talk about scared?” Tyler asks to cut the tension of the moment. “I have a kid. I don’t know what I was thinking about bringing a new life into this crazy world. I mean things are really getting nuts. We actually live in a world where Civil War 2 by Trump could be a real thing. My child will never have to wait until Saturday to watch cartoons or learn a video game cheat code off by heart. It’s terrifying to think that I have to teach a person about being responsible and good. I don’t know how to teach. I don’t feel super great and super strong and all what other people see, but I have to be that everyday. I can’t go hide or just stay in bed or pack up a bag and bounce. I’m Dad, it’s totally fucked.

“I would rather fight terrifying monsters all day than face being a real adult.”

Mitch has nothing to say. He has never heard Tyler speak this way, be this vulnerable. He feels the honour of his mentors confidence.

With an awful sound and penetrating stench a tentacle demon materializes in the playground right by the Leafs.

Tyler turns into a stream of liquid mercury moving quickly toward the demon.

Mitch doesn’t think he just acts. His body splits into another Mitch, both a fraction smaller than the original. Both copies split again and the four Mitches attack the demon with a great bellow.

Nazem Kadri searches the shadow realm intently. His powers allow him to look out into the world from any shadow anywhere. The sheer scope of this aspect of his abilities is astounding, which makes his failure all the more alarming. Pulling his self out of the shadow realm Naz shakes his head.

“Nothing.” The Toronto Maple Leaf makes the word a curse.

The other Toronto Maple Leaf in the room, Morgan Rielly, walks over to a window.

“It doesn’t make any sense.” Morgan says quietly. “How can they hide from us both?”

Morgan is a technopath, his ability to communicate telepathically with digital systems makes eluding him in our modern world essentially impossible. Yet for weeks now the Toronto Maple Leafs have been searching for the demon worshipping cultists who have been stealing from the Toronto Maple Leafs and terrorizing the population of the Toronto Maple Leafs city.

“It has to be some kind of magic.” Morgan says. “That’s the only way they could hide.”

“Or they aren’t on Earth.” Nazem counters.

“No, they’re here.” Morgan insists.

The door whips open and James Van Riemsdyk bursts into the room. 

“We gotta go.” The Leaf says.

“What’s the matter?” Morgan asks.

“Visitors.” James says.

With a sigh Morgan and Nazem follow James to the Toronto Maple Leaf motor-pool. Visiting teams superstars will often run amok around the city looking for trouble. The Minnesota Wild are in town And obviously someone has gotten a little worked up. James does not offer any details, not that Morgan or Naz need any. The opposition is loose in the city. James found the first Leafs he could and soon there would be a showdown.

Naz insists on taking a Toronto Maple Leaf hover-bike, and after a brief zoom across Toronto, the Leafs find Devan Dubnyk and Eric Staal battling a large tentacle demon that has sprouted from a sewer grate.

With an enthusiastic “whooop” Naz veers sharply toward a nearby building, disappearing into the shadow realm. Immediately bullets tear into the demon from all sides. 

This serves to anger the beast even more, which doubles its assault against the Wild.

Morgan and James approach with a little more caution, both wanting to observe the two visiting players.  

Eric Staal has always been an astounding swordsman, and his move to Minnesota hasn’t changed this at all. He deftly sidesteps the flailing black tentacles and each time the tentacle falls to the ground, cut cleanly by the swift blade of the eldest Staal. But the tentacles grow back.

Devan Dubnyk is a different kind of warrior. He’s more of a sponge really, than any sort of combatant. He stands, legs wide absorbing blow after blow from the monster. From experience, Morgan knows that those tentacles can knock down a building. The demon seems entirely focused on Devan, enraged that anything would have the audacity to stand in front of it.

Naz’s hover-bike zooms out of the shadows directly behind the demon. The Leaf crams a grenade into the maw of the tentacle demon as he tears into the sky laughing.

Morgan talks into the comm links that the Wild are wearing.

“Take a step back, boys, we got this.”

Eric and Devan both look around startled. The grenade explodes blowing Eric off his feet. Devan runs over to his teammate. Morgan talks into their ears again.

“Come for a ride boys, we’ve dealt with these things before.”

Across the city Minnesota Wild assistant coach Scott Stevens bellows into his own comm link.

“Who the hell is that? How did you hack this channel? You are so f…”

“Relax big fella.” Morgan says as he mutes Scott’s mic. “We will get your boys home safe. Get some rest, keep your elbows down. Go Leafs.”

James and Nazem ride their hover-bikes down low allowing Eric and Devan to hop on as the tentacle demon shakes off the grenade blast.

Hovering high above the Demon, Eric looks over at Morgan. 

“So what’s the trick to beating that thing?” He asks.

Morgan smiles and pulls his Toronto Maple Leaf RPG from its holster on his hover-bike. Unlike traditional rocket powered grenade launchers, the Toronto Maple Leaf RPG is semi-automatic with a 16 round clip. Also the grenades pack the punch of a crate of C4. 

Eric Stall knows none of this. All he sees is Morgan obliterate the tentacle demon with three quick shots. 

“I want one.” Says Eric.

“I want one of these bikes.” Devan says.

Ignoring Devan, on the back of his bike, Nazem looks over to Eric.

“You gotta join the club if you want the good stuff bud. Spotlight’s got its perks.”

As the Leafs fly off into the night, Morgan takes one last look at the devastation behind him. The cultists have been stepping up their assaults. He would get back to his search as soon as they dropped off the Wild.

Lou Lamoriello slams his phone down hard, breaking it.

“Fuck!” The Toronto Maple Leafs GM says as he pulls a new smartphone out of a drawer.

“They didn’t take the deal?” Kyle Dubas asks. The Toronto Maple Leafs assistant GM is laying on a large comfortable couch snacking on ketchup chips, crumbs are everywhere.

“What do you think, Ass? Burke won’t budge. He won’t keep any salary in the deal.” Lou takes a long pull from his hookah. He blows tiny smoke rings which he flicks irritably.

“You mean Brad right?” Kyle asks.

“Huh?” Lou does not know what Kyle is talking about.

“Calgary’s GM is Brad Treliving, not Brian Burke.”

“No.” Lou laughs. “It’s Burkey. Who do you think I’ve been talking to for the last hour.”

“Well Brad is their GM.” Kyle insists.

“Either way the Flames won’t do the deal our way. They will trade Hamilton for JVR but they won’t keep a penny of salary.” Lou blows out more frustrated smoke rings.

“That sucks.” Says Kyle. “Oh well fuck ’em right.”

“Exactly!” Lou jumps out of his seat. “Fuck ’em! Ass, I’m so happy you’re finally getting it. Honestly, I was a little worried about you.”

Lou walks behind his office bar and fixes himself a pint of dark rum. He Looks over at Kyle and raises his eyebrows while guzzling the brown liquor.

“No thanks.” Kyle waves the offer away. “I try not to drink too much before nine.”

Lou refills his glass and sits down on the couch beside Kyle.

“Now what?” Lou asks.

“Any word from the Ducks?”

“The last time we talked they wanted a pick and Wily for Fowler.”

“That’s nuts.” Kyle shakes his head.

“I know.” Lou puts an arm around Kyle’s shoulder. “I know. Wily is a great kid, but he doesn’t have a lot of experience. You know even Burkey said we should play him some more. But what can we do right, Mike plays who he plays.”

Mike Babcock is the Toronto Maple Leafs head coach and he does not always appreciate input regarding his lineup.

“It’s unfortunate.” Lou continues. “Mike wants to send a message but dropping the kid to the fourth line just makes it harder to get something decent in a trade. And we need to get better on defence, everyone knows it. I don’t want to trade anybody but it’s part of the job. I just wish our coach wasn’t making my job so hard.”

Kyle sees too late where Lou is steering the conversation.

“Of course there are solutions to every problem.” Lou winks with a grin.

“No.” Kyle immediately shakes his head.

“Just hear me out.” Lou persists.

“You are not firing Mike.” Kyle says.

“Listen, listen, shhhh.” Lou gently rubs Kyle’s back and shoulders. “I just want to fire him a tiny little bit. Think of the stir it will cause. We just won. No one fires a coach after a win, it’s brilliant, he’ll never see it coming.”

Kyle is uncomfortable with the back rub but cannot allow Lou to sense any weakness.

“You are not firing Mike.” Kyle says.

“Please. Kyle. Damnit!”

Silent, Kyle tries to enjoy the back rub. Note, the word ‘try’ implies failure.

“What the heck is this?” Toronto Maple Leaf head coach Mike Babcock is bellowing as he barges into Kyle Dubas’ office. He is waving a piece of paper above his head as if to ward off fleas. Mike marches directly to the assistant GM’s desk and slams the paper down in fury.

“Go on.” Mike says. “Explain to me what this is.”

Wordless, Kyle picks up the paper and reads. He keeps his face neutral even though inside he is freaking out. There is no reason for this piece of paper to exist, and for Mike to have it is completely unacceptable. Someone would hear about this.

“I don’t know what to tell you Mike.” Kyle knows he is cornered, but won’t just roll over for the coach. “Where did you find this?”

Mike narrows his eyes and glares at Kyle hard before deciding to answer.

“Lou left it in the john in my office. Don’t even get me started on that, Brendan told me I’d be the only one with the key to that john. But his puckered old cheeks sloughing skin onto my seat doesn’t get me half as riled up as this garbage.”

“Did you ask Lou about it?” Kyle asks.

“I asked him.” Mike says. “He fed me some line, all I heard was lies. You gonna feed me a story too, or do you shoot a little straighter?”

Kyle pondered his options and settled on compliance. “I shoot pretty straight I guess. What exactly do you want me to explain?”

“Well how about you start from the top and work your way down.” Mike is fuming, feeling as if there is a joke being made and he isn’t in on it.

“Okay, well at the top here it says: Complete list of Toronto Maple Leafs super powers as demonstrated with aptitude and consistency. I think that’s pretty clearly stated as far as a title goes. And now glancing quickly down the list here, I see a few guys on the team have some super powers.

“Morgan Rielly is a technopath, Tyler Bozak can become mercury, Nazem Kadri is a shadow jumper, Jake Gardiner can morph into a giant snake or several hundred smaller snakes.” Kyle pauses. “That’s not accurate. I think Jake can veer into over two thousand smaller snakes. I’ll have to get Lou a more recent list. Leo Komarov shoots rocket blasts from his hands and feet plus he can generate an impenetrable force field, and James van Riemsdyk can spin really really fast. Did you want me to explain more about how their powers work? Naz has an awesome power, basically he can use any shadow to go to any other shadow on the planet. Super helpful for spying or sneaking into stuff.

“My favourite power has got to be Morgans. He can control any digital device within ten miles. He can read any computer, enter any phone, he can control traffic systems, I mean, in this technologically obsessed world of ours his potential is limitless.”

Mike is stunned. He stares at Kyle, mouth agape, unable to pick a single statement from the myriad of thoughts spinning through his head.

“Now I know what your thinking.” Mike doesn’t know himself but Kyle carries on. “Why don’t they do any of this stuff in a game, and the truth is, they aren’t allowed. If the world found out about all the super star athlete superheroes running around there would be chaos.

“So what are the powers for, if not for winning hockey games?” Mike can’t understand why this advantage is being withheld.

“Its like I said.” Kyle answers sheepishly. “They are super heroes. They help keep the world safe from evil doers and me and Lou get to help.”

Mike glowers at Kyle for longer than Kyle is comfortable with.

“That’s crap.” He says before turning and stomping out of the office.

Lou Lamoriello rolls out of bed with a groan. After watching his Toronto Maple Leafs get demolished by the LA Kings last night he had opened a bottle of rum and remembered nothing else. He couldn’t even recall the election results.

Lou is a very proud American. Living in Canada this past year has been very difficult for him, only his passion for the Leafs and hockey have made it bearable. Sadly his all consuming focus had kept Lou from remembering to mail in his vote.

Lou wasn’t too worried though. He had faith that his fellow Americans would make the right choice. There is no way a man who Lou had once brawled with over a Taiwanese lady boy could actually win the Presidency.

Lou sits on his toilet and turns on his tablet, opening the CNN homepage.

“Fuck.” He says, shitting. “Fuck.”

In a secluded corner of the Toronto Maple Leaf atrium, high up on the thirty-second floor of Toronto Maple Leaf tower, two generational super star phenom teens stare at each other across a table. A game of Connect Four sits between Auston Matthews  and Connor McDavid. No pieces have been played. Auston is playing red, Connor is yellow. It is Connor’s turn, he is reading his opponent. Auston endures the scrutiny with a casual ease that makes Connor feel a little bit uncomfortable.

After several more minutes Connor still hasn’t made a move.

“I’m going to order a milkshake.” Auston says. “You want one?”

Connor thinks for a moment. “Definitely.” He says.

Auston waits for a lot longer than he expects to. “What flavour?” He finally asks.

Connor thinks about it. “Vanilla.” He decides.

Auston nods and looks up to the ceiling. He clears his throat. “Hello, can I please get two milkshakes, please? One strawberry and one vanilla. Um, thank you.” Looking sheepish Auston smiles at Connor. “It’ll just be a minute.”

“Who are you talking to?” Connor asks.

“The Tower.” Auston answers with a grin. ” They are always looking after me when I’m here.”

Connor examines the Connect Four board instead of answering. After a minute a servant arrives with two comically oversized milkshakes complete with extra large  mixing tins. Both boys get up to help the poor fellow with the heavy tray.

“Thank you very much” Auston says. He shakes the servants hand and slips him a fifty dollar bill.

“I cannot take this sir.” The Toronto Maple Leaf wait staff says.

“Please.” Auston pleads. “I’m begging you, please, just take it. Tell them I made you,  buy some porno with it, or something.”

The servant smiles and bows, unable to resist the charisma of the young Leaf. Auston makes a point to look at the man until he is gone. Never once has the same person come back twice. Auston wonders at the inexhaustible resources of the Toronto Maple Leafs.

“Do they ever send you any girls?” Connor asks.

“I never asked.” Austin admits. “But my friend Mitch told me that he can always get girls if I want one. I’m a little nervous about it though. Mr. Lamoriello doesn’t like girls very much.”

“Really?” Connor asks.

“Yeah, I’m not sure a GM is allowed to tell us when we’re ready to start dating, but honestly I think Lou doesn’t give a tiny piece of fuck.”

“There are no girls in Edmonton.” Connor says. “It sucks.”

“It’s your move.” Auston reminds him.

Connor puts down his milkshake and wipes off his milkshake moustache. He picks up a piece and drops it in the third slot from the left.

Auston examines the board. He sees where his pieces will go and where Connor will answer. Move by move he plays it out in his imagination.

“Cats game.” Auston says. He sips his strawberry shake without picking it up. “Play again?”

“Sure.” Connor says. “Your turn.”

Auston slides the handle and clears the board. Quickly the rookie Leaf drops a piece in the far right slot.

“Cats game.” Connor says after a minute. “Play again?”

Mike Babcock glares at the list in his hand. He would change some of the items if he could but the list is not his to make. Mike was given this list as part of his job and he has to get it done no matter what. Knowing this doesn’t get Mike out of his truck any faster and it doesn’t take the words ‘gravy mix’ off the grocery list in his hands.

As the head coach of the Toronto Maple Leafs, Mike has learned to manage his expectations. That doesn’t make powdered gravy any more palatable conceptually. Mike is an unrepentant gravy snob. There is no better companion to a plate of mashed root vegetables and meat than a good thick gravy, brown or white doesn’t matter. The only pertinent quality that informs any judgement of a gravy is its authenticity.

Every Babcock child knows when a gravy has been rushed. Growing up Mike never even knew there was such a thing as gravy packets. Once Mike’s grandfather insinuated that the Christmas gravy was leftover from thanksgiving. The family was only now, decades later, beginning to mend the fences from that sad night.

Mikes own gravy making experience has been a path filled with early experimentation followed by consistent saucy triumph. Mike prizes consistency above a great many other things. So you got lucky and managed to squeak out a decent gravy for dinner. Do it again the next night. Do it for lunch, hell, throw out a breakfast gravy once in a while. Do it right every time, that is the Babcock way.

Anyone can put together an appetizer. The main course takes effort but even without a great deal of talent a person can come up with a filling main and a side of steamed or mashed vegetables. But it will only ever be food on a plate without a good sauce, and gravy is the best of sauces. Good gravy turns food into a meal and a meal into a feast.

Mike scoffs at his own inner monologue, opens the door of his truck and grins as he jumps out. Powdered gravy is on his list. He knows it’s not good enough. There is no use getting upset about it. For now he will eat the powdered, freeze-dried, shipped-in, pre-packaged bullshit. One day his list look better. One day it will have gravy fixings, not mix.

Towering triumphant over the Manitoba skyline, Canwest Place rises a lofty thirty-three stories above the prairies. While this is remarkable in Winnipeg, the three Toronto Maple Leafs standing on the roof of the building are not impressed. This has little to do with any sort of comparison between Toronto and Winnipeg, and all to do with the circumstance the three Leafs are in.

Morgan Reilly, Leo Komarov, and Jake Gardner have spent all of Tuesday night and now most of Wednesday morning waiting on this roof. They picked it because it offers a nearly flawless view of the whole breadth of the prairie jewel that is Winnipeg. They never expected to remain in place all night.

The Toronto Maple Leafs are not only a historic hockey franchise, they are they greatest team of superheroes the world has ever known. As such they cannot allow road trips to disrupt the delivery of vigilante justice to the creepy minions of evil that infest our world. Except that infestation seems to have missed Winnipeg.

“This sucks.” Jake says.

“I told you it would.” The Leafs are not alone in the roof.

Jacob Trouba shouldn’t even be in Winnipeg, but he can’t help himself. The young defender has refused to report to camp, causing a minor scandal and a major headache.

“How the hell am I supposed to develop my skills when nothing ever happens here?” Jacob whines.

“Just relax.” Morgan tells him. “There is no way it’s like this every night. There’s gotta be crime somewhere.”

“Over there, look!” Leo shouts, pointing across the river.

A fire has started at a construction site.

“Go Leafs Go!” Leo shouts as he uses his powers to blast himself into the air, rocketing toward the danger.

“Don’t bother.” Jacob says to Morgan and Jake.

The Leafs are about to ignore their colleague when a shocking sight stops them in their tracks.

Materializing from nothing, an enormous pail of water appears in the sky, tipping its contents onto the blaze. The fire is doused instantly and the bucket disappears as mysteriously as it arrived. Even the water is gone, leaving only sopping embers.

“What the hell was that?” Morgan asks.

“That,” Jacob answers. “Is my problem, Big Buff.”

Before the Leafs can answer Leo lands on the roof wetly. He is grinning from ear to ear.

“Did you guys see that?” Leo laughs. “The power, he didn’t even break a sweat!”

“Who?” Jake asks.

“Him.” Leo answers, pointing.

“Oh no.” Says Jacob. The wayward Winnipeg Jet slinks into the shadows.

All two hundred and fifty pounds, standing six and a half feet tall, of Dustin “Big Buff” Byfuglien float toward Canwest Place on a magic carpet larger than a hot tub. The human behemoth lands and scoops up Leo in a bear hug. Leo’s force field protects him from any serious harm.

“Hey there, Leafs!” Dustin speaks with the voice of a brachiasaur booming out across the night sky. “Having a good night? Nice and quiet in my city right?”

“Yeah.” Morgan answers. “It’s awesome. How do you manage it all?”

Dustin grins as a hot mug of coffee appears in his hand. The mug is red with black lettering which reads ‘The Older I Get The Better I FUCK.’

“You guys want some coffee? Maybe a beer?”

“I’ll take a beer.” Jake says.

“Me too.” Leo adds.

Two beers materialize directly in the Leafs hands from nothing and out of nowhere.

“But how?” Morgan asks again.

“It’s simple really.” Dustin explains between sips of his coffee. “I can create anything I can imagine.”

Morgan is stunned into silence. The devastating potential of such powers could realistically threaten all life on the planet. If Big Buff got into a bad enough mood there would be no stopping him.

“Well not anything.” Dustin continues. “It has to be something that I understand really good. Food is easy, so are hockey sticks, or hockey pucks, or hockey pads. And that bucket I made was pretty sweet too right. I can’t make like, people, or cars, or stuff. But I can do this.” With a wink Dustin manifests a table with four chairs. A pipping hot, thirty-six inch, thin crust pepperoni pizza rests on the table waiting to be devoured.

Without any sort of formality Dustin sets to his work. The Leafs take their seats and dig in. Suddenly a strange voice interrupts the meal.

“Mister Buff sir.” It is Patrick Laine, the first round pick of the Winnipeg Jets. Or at least, it is the head of Patrick Liane, the rest of him is stretched out near to his full length. Patrick can just get his chin over the side of the roof with is feet on the ground.

With a full mouth Dustin berates his rookie teammate. “Damn it Pat! I told you to wait for me down stairs. No rookies.”

“I’m sorry mister Buff sir, my beer senses were tingling. I was wondering if I could have some too.”

“No!” Buff yells. He looks across the table to the Leafs. “Stupid rookies right. They are all just so stupid. You guys know all about that right, your little wonder kids, your little super saviour starchild Auston Matt…”

Jake is the closest to Dustin. He places his pointer finger on the big mans lips and shakes his head. Leo and Morgan are shaking their heads too.

“What the fuck?” Dustin asks.

“We don’t say his name.” Morgan says. Dustin begins to protest. “Just don’t.”

Something in the Leafs tone gives Dustin pause. Of course his only response to being challenged has always been to destroy the challenger. Things are about to get very heated when the forgotten rookie begins to shout.

“It’s him, Buff, he’s here!” Patrick is flailing wildly with his head, using his nose as a pointer.

As the young Finn’s face swings towards the building Jacob steps out and connects with a right hook square in Patrick’s jaw. “Damn it rookie.” He says.

Dustin leaps from the table, which disappears back into the nothing from which it came, along with the pizza and beers.

“Trouba!” Big Buff roars as he tears across the roof toward his erstwhile teammate. He flings a barrage of hockey puck at Jacob, pummeling him to the roof. The young Jet is defenseless against the fury that Dustin unleashes. To his credit, Jacob does not lay down, but the outcome is never in doubt. Dustin keeps bashing Jacobs unconcious body after it stops moving.

“He’s going to kill him.” Leo observes.

“Crap.” Morgan says as he rushes toward the enraged Jet.

Leo and Jake look at each other for a second then move in to help. Jake turns himself into a giant serpent and races past Morgan to wrap himself around Dustin’s arms. The snake still has Jake’s face and he smiles at Big Buff as they struggle.

“Calm down big guy.” Jake says.

Morgan grabs Jacobs shoulders and pulls him to the edge of the roof. He takes a last glance at the action before he leans back and falls. The Toronto Maple Leaf unmanned aerial attack drone catches the pair and Morgan flies away without a second look. His teammates will be fine without him.

On the roof, Jake is beginning to lose his hold.

“Leo!” Jake yells.

“Now!” Leo answers.

Jake splits into several hundred tiny snakes which scatter every which way, slithering off the roof. At the same time Leo rockets himself straight at Big Buff, toppling the big man. Leo blasts clear of the roof then uses his commlink to reach Morgan.

“He’s down, but I doubt he will be for long.”

“No problem.” Morgan says. Morgan is a techno-path. This means that he can use any digital technology around him, using only his mind. It is a simple thing to read Dustin’s contact list off his phone. That way Morgan knows Buff will answer when it rings.

Dustin wakes to the sound of his phone. The ringtone is the lullaby ‘hush little baby.’ Dustin pulls out his phone and answers.

“Mom?”

“Nope.” Morgan says. “Just relax now. We have Jacob, you messed him up really good, that will just have to be enough for you.”

“It’s not.” Dustin growls into the phone. “He is abandoning his team. He is a traitor. I hope they trade him into our division.”

“Well that won’t happen any time soon. Why don’t you collect your rookie, shave off his awful moustache, then go rub one out real quick before bed. We’ll see you at the game, maybe grab some wings after.”

“Sounds good.” Dustin answers. “Oh, and you guys are assholes, you know that right.”

“Go Leafs Go.” Morgan says, ending the call.