It’s late in the night as More_Shots pushes papers around on his desk looking for something lost under the piles. He finds a paper with “Transfer Target Chaos Warriors” written across the top. A list of names is scrolled below.
“Alabama Slammer – Fresh
B-52 – Too Young
Red Headed Shot – Future leader needs more training
White Gummy Bear – Might do better playing for space frogs
Yukon Jack – Has desirable skills and cost effective
Finlandia – Aggressive player needs a role model”
“These guys are all so young,” More_Shots debates,”Knob Creek left big shoes to fill. These guys will have issues.”
Just then a letter flew in on an official MML raven.
“Dear Power Hour,
The offices of the MML are please to announce we have accepted your bid to the join the MML Pro League. You have been assigned to the Iron league. Your Schedule is as follows.
Week 1 Home vs Magrita Misfits
Week 2 Away vs High Wings of Hope
Week 3 Away vs Stop Rolling Ones
Week 4 Home vs Golden Discipline
Week 5 Away vs Hopeless Necromatics
Week 6 Away vs Darkside Diddlers
Week 7 Away vs The Rolling Ones
Goodluck in season XIII.
(A wax seal appears at the bottom with the official MML LOGO)”
“Good lord, that might be the toughest schedule I’ve ever seen. 3 gifted bash teams and 4 talented elf teams… the elves looked to be backed by the wizards guild also.” Shots looks back to his list, “None of these guys would even make it till half time against these teams. We need a player that have experience. A player that can handle himself when the world around him is on fire. We need a … we need …”
The words trail away as the coach looks up to a small black box with strange writing on it mounted in a shadowy corner of the office. The coach walks over and pulls a small cork from the top of the box and sprinkles some seeds into the hole. Movement can be heard inside… then scratching and tapping.
The coach whispers into the box, “I’ve kept you locked away safe in here for so long that you might not even remember where you are from. You might not remember the times before. You might not even remember what light feels like and the pain that it brings you. But, I need you to return to the past. I need you to return to the blackest darkness. You need to go and return to me the champion that has been forgotten.”
A few latches later the front of the box slowly swings open. A few seeds drop out onto the floor and a key on a string drops out and dangles in the air. The room falls still of a second and the coach sees the key again for the first time in longer then he can remember.
A flurry of movement burst from the box as a large black bird springs out into flight around the room sending the coach to the ground. The raven circles the room a few times before finding a rest on the window sill.
The string grasped in it’s mouth holds the key. It’s eyes dart around the room adjusting to the light of the moon and a lone candle on the desk.
“Your free now. Go home to the darkness. Take your package with you. Return to me what once was mine. Find the darkness… find…