"So, yeah, how much longer do you think it's gonna be, Captain?" Alex Culver asked a clearly irritated Marine corporal. "Cause, you know, we're playing Nashville this coming Friday night. I didn't mind missing the last few games, but I really hate those saber-toothed dorks. Oilers, Stars, Blues, none of them bug me that much, but the Predators really have it out for me. I remember their guy Aune really got me good a couple seasons back. That's how this happened, right?" Culver grinned at the silent and unresponsive Marine, pointing at a clearly visible chip in his incisor. "Got him back real good, though. It was worth the penalty. But they've been after me ever since. Do you want my autograph? Hey, where you going?" he called after the Marine as the man walked away.

Alex sighed. The time had been dragging on since all practice and games had been cancelled and the team evacuated. He had packed a couple bags and made his way to Camp Pendleton, instead of flying out like most of the rest of the teams. He had spent most of his childhood on one military base or another, they just felt right to him. And Alex figured he might as well be with his fans. 

But seriously, two weeks? This was getting ridiculous. There had been some looting, he was a little worried about his condo on the 22nd floor of a trendy downtown building. A bunch of his stuff would probably fetch a high price online if people knew it belonged to the great Alex Culver of the Los Angeles Kings. But nobody knew when any of this would blow over. Guess the only thing to do was wait.

And so, Alex sighed, dejectedly tapped an old wiffle ball with his favorite stick. Might as well pass a little time.