The Ice King’s Fake Fixer
He took his position at the blue line, his stick lowered, his thumb resting lightly above the blue ridge.
"Maya, please begin," I spoke into the small earpiece hidden beneath my strawberry blonde hair.
"Sequence one live in three, two, one," Maya’s voice buzzed in my ear from the security booth.
Whirrrr-snap.
The automated launcher fired a black puck skating hard across the ice toward Jaxson's right side. I watched his helmet jerk slightly, the double vision was clearly active but instead of swinging blindly, his lower hand slid down the shaft. His thumb slammed against the blue tape anchor.