Shaybu!

The hooded figure (“Taylor Crosby”) walked out the back door and removed her hood once again. She dipped her head in respect to a group of people.

“Did he fall for it?” an eager voice questioned.

“Yes. He has hopes higher than Tuukka Rask’s goalie stats!” she smirked, coyly. “He thinks that I’m your sister, Taylor!”

“Fantastic! Good work, Kathy dear!” Sidney remarked, stepping toward her, warmly.

The girl grinned even more, as she shared a kiss with her boyfriend. She was not Taylor Crosby, Sidney’s nicer sister and girlfriend of Dallas Stars’ (and ex-Bruins’) forward Tyler Seguin, but in fact, Kathy Leutner, a model and despicable human being. Brooks Orpik and Chris Kunitz were standing nearby as well.

“He’s inside, defenseless and waiting for your orders!” Charlie grumbled.

Sidney planted another kiss on his girlfriend’s lips. Kathy snatched up Sidney’s hand and raised it onto her chest. Sidney took the hint and began to fondle her, as they got deeper into the kiss. Chris, Brooks and Charlie exchanged disgusted glances.

“Uh, Sid,” Chris started, reaching out to tap his friend, who had his hand up his girlfriend’s shirt, naughtily now.

“Gross!” Brooks spat. “Get a room Sidney!”

“Alright, alright, let’s do this!” Sidney sighed, annoyed, pulling back from his girlfriend, who pouted her lip.

“Sidsy!” she protested.

Sidney gave her a sympathetic look. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll be back!”

Kathy folded her arms, purposefully under her breasts and made them perk up underneath her Penguins jersey with Crosby’s name and number on it. Sidney shook his head. Later, he told himself.

“Kathy, would you mind heading back into the village and keeping an eye on the rest of the Canadians. Try and pinpoint a weakness, if any, with the Blackhawks and Ducks and that newbie Star!?”

Kathy smirked, evilly and dipped her head. “I will do so, my darling!”

“After we take care of all the issues, I promise we can engage in foreplay!”

Kathy beamed brighter and skipped off, disappearing into the shadows of the evening. Sidney turned to his posse. Brooks shook his head.

“So what are we doing to our little friend inside?” Chris questioned, rubbing his fingers together.

“We’re going to torture him senseless and make his death slow and painful, like I said!”

“Sounds like a plan!” Brooks exclaimed, a little too giddy.

“We are going to kick off the party with a little technique I like to call humiliation and gaining fear. Before we can do anything, we must first coax the mighty Bruin into believing in fear. He may be tough and able to take anything that comes his way, but I think I know how to break him!”

Sidney flashed a sinister grin to his buddies, before he entered the farmhouse and headed into the living room, where Patrice was sitting. The two men followed him, but kept their distance.

“How are you liking the party so far, Bergy?” Sidney slyly remarked, rounding his captive.

Patrice flicked his head to the side and frowned. “Go to hell, Sid! You can’t break me! I will never tell you any Boston secrets! I played the Stanley Cup final with a punctured (left) lung, a broken rib (on the left side), a separated (right) shoulder and torn rib cartilage!”

“Is that so, fellow centreman? You think that I don’t know how to break you? I do.” Sidney halted in front of Patrice and signaled for Brooks Orpik and Chris Kunitz to join him.

“I won’t break!” Patrice insisted, firmly. “I won’t crack!”

“You will, because I know a few of your greatest fears!”

“You don’t. You’re bluffing!”

“Am I?” Sidney coyly remarked, scowling. “I know that Boston fans aren’t impressed by your efforts. They want you traded!”

“No they don’t!”

“You’ve had a past with concussions and you’re getting older. Soon you won’t be as great of a player and fans realize that! You haven’t been performing well lately. You haven’t been producing offensively and everyone knows. You are losing more face-offs. You aren’t producing, Patrice.”

“No, no!” Patrice fought to control the emotion that was starting to creep up his body. He forced it away, snapping his head to the side. “Stop it, Sid!”

“I’m not done! Your other fear is that your teammates won’t like you! They won’t find your leadership appealing. They will HATE you and they will SHUN you!” Sidney continued to spit.

“Never!!”

“You’re afraid of fans shunning or not loving you, they won’t find you appealing and want you to be traded, players and teammates shun you as well and your value decreases and you’re not liked by the management or anyone, and worst of all, you aren’t helping your team out either!”

“No!” Patrice howled, shaking his head vigorously. Tears formed in his eyes. “Please, stop, Sid! Please!”

“What if I told you that your beloved little pesky winger friend was being traded to the Habs, or worse, to the Pittsburgh Penguins, my team!?”

“He’s not! Everyone in Boston loves Marchy! He would never get traded to Montreal or Pittsburgh!”

“He requested the trade!”

“Never! I don’t believe you!” Patrice wailed, the tears spurting from his eyes. “Marchy won’t leave Boston!”

“And the last thing that makes you afraid is your friends getting hurt by an enemy player. Remember last year when Malky took a hard shot to the net and, conveniently in the way, was Gregory Campbell?”

Patrice was bawling his eyes out now. He couldn’t stand the torture of hearing about his fears. He wished that he could see his teammates. He missed them, especially his little ball of hate.

Notes

Sidney :(
Poor Bergy!