Tuesday, October 9th

Lenny Hicks (Coydog, PF) felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and put down his fork, groaning.

"Of all the times," he growled, taking the phone out of his pocket. He was only trying to spend time with his wife Sandra having a nice steak dinner, just the two of them at his apartment. It wasn’t often he got to spend much time with her, and now this? The coydog pulled the white phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen. A frown creased his muzzle.

"What is it?" Sandra asked, putting down her fork.

"It's a text from Mr. Gwosdz; he needs to 'meet with me before the news breaks'," he said.

"News? You've been traded?" she asked. Lenny stood up and shrugged.

"Seems like it. Looks like the dinner date's postponed, I need to go talk to him."

Sandra stood up and hugged her husband. "No matter what is happening, it's okay," she reminded him. Lenny grinned.

"Yeah, I know that. Part of the job of being a pro. Still, an explanation would be nice," he said.

"You'll get one," she said, giving him a kiss. "Good luck."

"Thanks, Cowgirl."

* * *

Lenny walked through the Patriot Stadium halls silently, winding his way around them. Minutemen general manager Samuel Gwosdz (Red Fox) asked him to meet him there in his office. Turning the last corner, Hicks noticed the door was open. Going inside, Hicks found Sam sitting at his desk, but he also found Jason Peterson (Hyena, C) sitting on a large chair.

Sandra was right. She was always right.

Sam stood up and stuck out his paw. "Thanks for coming, Lenny," he said.

"No problem," Hicks said, shaking Sam's paw, and taking a seat. "Is this what I think it's about?"

Jason nodded. "He told me as soon as I got here," he said, letting the fox explain.

Sam sat back down and propped his muzzle on his clasped paws, resting it on them. That was a position he seemed to take when he was getting ready to say something potentially uncomfortable. "The Edmonton Totems called and said they were quite interested in you, Lenny. Mr. van West (Golden doodle, general manager, EDM) was insistent," he said.

"Just get to the point, Kid, who'd you get?" Hicks asked quickly, not interested in beating around the bush. Sam nodded.

"Gerry Cross (Mink, F/C) and Jarrod Frola (Cat, F). We exchanged picks in the first round of the draft as well."

Sam noticed that Lenny's eyes widened a little when he mentioned Cross. The coydog didn't explode or anything, but he seemed to not like hearing that.

"I see," Hicks finally said, that edge in his voice. Jason knew all about Hicks' seemingly visceral dislike for the Firestorm and knew to shut up. A moment of silence passed in the room.

"Well, what do you think about Cross?" Sam asked. Lenny scowled and folded his muscly arms.

"Takes me everything I have to go up against him; you saw it all. One of the most hard-nosed sonofaguns I've ever played against," he said. Sam nodded and smirked a little.

"There you go."

Jason finally piped up. "Is Frola really as nice as everyone says," he asked. Sam laughed.

"You kidding? He doesn't have a phony bone in his body. The day after the parade, he called me to wish congratulations. 'The best team won,' he said."

Jason raised an eyebrow. "During the reign of 'The Minutemen are jerks' articles and broadcasts? Yikes."

"Yep. You guys can come back tomorrow and clean out your lockers if you want so you can say goodbye to everyone for now," Sam suggested.

"Sure, that's a good idea," Jason said. Lenny agreed. The two shook paws with their general manager and Jason said good-bye and left, knowing he'd be able to talk tomorrow. Sam grinned at Lenny before he exited.

"You going to be a good captain up there too?" he asked. Lenny smirked.

"You know it. Tell Gerry that Big Country says ‘hello and good luck’," he said, cracking a little smile.

"I'll be sure to do that. See you tomorrow," Sam said, giving Lenny a playful pat on the shoulder as he left.

* * *

Thursday, October 11th

At first, the team missed Hicks and Peterson, but the spirits were uplifted a little when Frola and Cross arrived. The orange cat loved the new number the team issued him: nine. Once he saw it, he grinned broadly. "Best of both worlds: I can just stand on my head to make it a six!" Cross carried over his number 23 from Lorain and Edmonton.

The stories about the former gangbanger being so nice all seemed to be true as he quickly demonstrated how friendly and supportive he was to his new teammates.

“Way to get up for the rebound, Nick!”

“Atta boy, Otto, nice fadeway!”

“GREAT pass, Vera!”

It was a little grating at first, but the cat’s support was genuine, and within minutes, it was like he had always been there.

Near the end of the practice, Damien Nathaniel (Hyena, SF, free agent) sighed heavily as he sat down on the bench and draped a towel over his shoulders, seemingly lost in thought. A poke on his shoulder made him look up and see the big orange cat.

"Hey, Damien, why the long face; something on your mind? You weren’t shooting like you normally do at all," Jarrod said, having noted Damien’s distracted performances where he was barely knocking down any threes. The hyena shook his head slowly and looked over at the orange cat as Jarrod sat down.

"My days are numbered here, Jarrod. I'm still part of the team and allowed to practice here, but I feel like... I feel like an outsider now.

"I only have an offer from Albany and none from here, and now you're here, and... it sucks, man," he said.

Jarrod nodded. "You talk to anyone else about it?"

"No, but the crap really didn’t start until the trade the other day," Damien admitted. The big cat nodded, understanding.

"Ah, I get it, I’m your ‘replacement’... well, I can't change what might happen, but you know what? Change doesn't mean we can't be friends, right?" he asked.

Damien shook his head. "I guess not," he said, still feeling a little uncertain.

Jarrod pointed to the far wall, up to the basic 2011-12 championship banner that the team had placed on the wall to go with the 2002-03 banner beside it.

"You'll always have that no matter where you go," he said. Damien looked up at the banner and remembered the parade from a few months ago.

"Yeah, that's true. You’re right, man, we still can be friends."

"Seems like the record player broke," Jarrod said, breaking into a grin. Nathaniel laughed a little, his familiar cackle coming out.

"I wasn't listening,” he joked. He did realize Frola was right, though, and that’s all that mattered.

FBA c  buckhopper
All characters c their respective owners