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Down With The King (not-canon)
#1
(This post was last modified: 01-18-2024, 04:37 AM by eddiesnothere. Edited 1 time in total.)

It’s cold in Minnesota, even during the summer months. Not cold enough for a jacket, but just breezy enough to bring up the goosebumps on your forearms, get you to sweat under the collar. He could have put on a warmer shirt, but he had braved the five seconds it took him to get to his car from his apartment, and was only taking stock of the temperature halfway through the parking lot. Maybe park closer, he said to himself.

The arena parking was barren, only a few cars were in the lot now. Still, he gave his cane and himself a wide berth to the front steps. He took in the massive lobby to the offices only after he got inside. Former players like himself never got to appreciate just how imposing, how massive these arenas were getting, how they seemed like a corporate mall, everything a brisk walk away, only so much more trouble than what some would consider an inconvenience.

Izem Abioye was out of commission for a very long time, longer than he had ever wanted to be. The crash that ended his career had been a deep, sucking wound in his career, despite the injuries that slowly developed into a slight, odd bounding limp in his leg that required use of a cane, which resembled a shelieghleigh up to the handle, a small, rounded top that resembled, at a glance, a hockey stick blade.

He had wandered, part-ghost, around Detroit for some time, looking for something to do. His ugly exit from St. Louis weighed heavy on his mind, and even as a scout, he avoided the city, more ashamed of himself than of the thought of seeing it again. Detroit had been a springboard for his scouting career. Baltimore, who were in West Kendall then, asked if he wished to join their staff, maybe out of pity, he had thought then.

But they had wanted him for his brevity, his worldly outlook, they wanted him to find more like him, and he had certainly tried. He had made quite an impression on the scouts he worked with in Finland, especially one who worked for the Monarchs, and with his contract up, he took Season 71 as a challenge to make the most of an unfamiliar situation. It had worked out alright, in his mind.

Izem got the call personally from his boss, Associate General Manager Cal Labovitch. It would have been better served as a text conversation, only so many words were used. His partner, Eero Hämäläinen, was stepping away, to enjoy quiet retirement. Cal could certainly handle the job, but he wanted someone by his side, someone to help him steer the ship in the same direction Eero was headed.

No press conference had been called yet, and Izem had been careful who to tell. Just close family, his wife and son. They wouldn’t tell the press. As he tried to use his keycard on the door, a red light popped up on the fob. He froze. It had never refused him before.

“Your new one’s over here.” Izem turned to see the receptionist, a young man with reddish hair. He was holding a new fob, along with a new Team ID card, something he had forgotten to collect on his way in.

“Can’t be running into too many doors in this place.” He tried to laugh off his awkwardness, but he knew his rapidly blustery cheeks gave away just how embarrassing it felt, as it always was opening the wrong door, or pushing on a pull door, or-

BEEP! This fob made a louder noise than the others did, and the door’s deadbolt clicked. He pushed it open into the concourse. Izem followed his routine closely, across the walkway to the elevator beside the stairs, up to the second floor walkway, then back the way he came to the elevator that took him to the offices. The route took him a minute and fourteen seconds, he had timed himself doing it, on the off-chance he found himself late. In the elevator now, the fourth floor fast approaching.

-

“So how do you like the office?” Cal was choking the words out. It seemed his coffee was a bit too hot.

“I’m finding my way around it fine. I’ll have a contractor in tomorrow to install the guardrails” Izem held up his cane to accentuate the joke. Both men laughed.

“So, what’s to know for my first day?” He timed his question to just before Cal stopped his second sip, the brew still searing his throat.

“We talked to Alexi’s agent, it seems he’s committed to the market, and the number really can’t go higher, so make of that what you will.”

A sigh. A good start, Izem thought. Alexi was one of the players that had passed off his reports in Baltimore, just another exceptional kid picked up by Maine, a Team Japan product, out of his wheelhouse, but he had grown to respect his big, loud, intense game, one he had struggled with as a junior player. He was going to be one of the great Monarchs as they marched up the mountain. Now, he was hitching himself to another caravan. So it goes.

“He’s here. Packing his things. Hoang’s on the ice too, probably saying goodbye before he heads back home.” Cal didn’t cough that out this time, shaking Izem out of his funk.

“Should I say my goodbyes?” He asked.

“If you think it’s appropriate, I’m not certain he knows you have the job yet.” Cal put his hand on the table, seemingly about to get up. Izem saw it as confirmation. Better to see him than to just sit around to start the day.

-

The sticks Alexi had ordered were still in the cardboard box the trainers had awkwardly shoved in a corner. It was hard for him to spot it at first, but Hoang found it in the closet, and pulled it out carefully, before putting it under his arm and heading towards the locker room. His hockey pants and socks were already on, but he had taken the time out of his routine to help his friend, before they said goodbye and became opponents again.

Alexi was head-first in his locker, cleaning out his stall with a trash bag and wet wipes to make sure no dust met with a new rookie and soiled his glee for getting to sit with his now-former teammates. It felt awkward, even for him to say that, knowing nothing was official, and yet being distant already.

His bag, an old Maine goalie bag he had bought at a clearance sale in his junior days, already held his pads and equipment, everything the team wanted to keep was already in the wash.

The wipes went into the bag, and Alexi groaned as he leaned back out of the stall. He heard footsteps down the hall, meaning Hoang had found his sticks.

They had met as members of Team Japan, Alexi the popular rowdy team leader, Hoang the timid, quiet outcast. Alexi had worried his prodding and teasing at the young Viet - something he did to everyone, with varying results - would isolate him further. He was pleasantly surprised to find that it didn’t. It brought Hoang up, made him one of them. As they turned into opponents in Maine and Montana respectively, they drove each other up a wall, poking and jeering and laughing at each other on the ice. When they were reunited in Minnesota, it turned into its final form: Alexi as the big brother, the extrovert who drove every comment into you like a corkscrew, and Hoang the understudy, the giggling, quiet workaholic who relished in doing every chore Alexi gladly passed down on him.

But this was like the big brother leaving for university, the little brother, not-so-little anymore, knowing it would be different the next time they saw each other. Alexi knew, the second he rounded the corner and put his sticks next to his locker, that Hoang had nothing but a dry smile to give him as a goodbye. It was enough. A frown could kill from him, Alexi remembered.

He returned the smile and hugged his teammate. He used to be far bigger than the listed-5-foot-7 winger, but now they were fairly even. And with the hug over, Hoang walked over to his stall across the room, and Alexi hoisted his bag straps over his shoulder, grabbed his stick box, and began the long walk to the car park.

-

The elevator opened and Izem stepped out carefully, he had worn nice shoes, and couldn’t know how wet it could be down there. As he turned towards the locker room he was a little shocked to see Alexi just ten feet ahead of him.

“I don’t see you down here a lot, Nice Guy” Alexi shot off, smiling.

Deep cut, Izem thought. Alexi must have done his research for his half-digs.

“I came down to see you off. It’s a shame we won’t be working closer together, but I know you’ll succeed wherever you go.”

The comment perplexed Alexi. “Working together? Did something happen I’m not aware of?”

“Promotion, kiddo. I’m the new Associate GM.”

“That’s great, good for you, Azee.” Alexi said. He was happy, but the situation was undoubtedly awkward. Meeting your new boss that isn’t your boss.

“How‘s Hoang doing, by the way?” Izem asked.

“He’s taking it fine.” Alexi said, but he knew there was no way to be sure. When he wanted to, Hoang could keep his emotions very close to the chest.

“Hey, thanks for taking the time to come down here. I really appreciate it. I’ll miss this place - maybe I’ll come back some day” Alexi smiled, gave Izem a fist bump, and headed out the door, hockey bag and long tall box in hand.

Izem laughed as he got back on the elevator. What a card that kid is.

(Word Count: 1719)

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#2

Good luck with the new role Eddie! Smile

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