Dangeruss & Tazer

Back at Jonathan Toews’ house, Patrick Sharp earned a nudge from Mike Rob.

“You’ve got to try and translate the noises on the recording that you heeard. It’s our only shot.”

“But I can’t. I’m too scared and embarrassed.”

“You must. If you don’t, your teammate is dead.”

“I can’t.”

“Come on, Sharpie. You’ve got to!”

“But...I’ll look like a fool!”

“For Patrick Kane…”

Patrick looked to the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep gulp. He thought about himself being in his teammate’s position. He had to try, even if he was going to look like a fool. Kaner would do it for him, so he would do it. And he kind of owed him for eating his merchandise like that.

“Okay, I’ll do it. For Peekaboo!”

He stood up, bravely and walked over to where Russell was leading Jonathan back into the room.

“Sharpie, what have you found?”

“When Rob and I were in the van, we stumbled across that recording clue and lost it.”

“Yeah, you told us...what about it?”

“Well, um, I heard a familiar sound that I thought you might recognize.”

“What is it?”

Patrick looked down at his feet, nervously. Then he cleared his throat, “Well, it sounded like this…” He cleared his throat again, making sure it was ready. Then he dug into his memory and repeated the sounds, using audible noises. He felt like one of the people in a car commercial, trying to voice their issues with their vehicle to the expert. But he finished, transmitting the noises he had heard to the best of his ability.

Jonathan listened and his eyes went wide with shock. “That sounds like the old warehouse! The one on the opposite side of town, past Madison and the Ice House.”

“Warehouse?”

“Yeah, they do construction around the place all the time and I know they are doing forest renovations right now. They sounds like a crane and boxes being lifted and placed somewhere...a warehouse!”

Patrick smiled.

“Good work, Sharpie. Hey, who knew you were much more than just a hockey playing prankster for Chicago?”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Don’t even, To-ez. You know I don’t do this, because of Bur!”

“Right. Because he always abused your talent, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, let’s go guys! Kaner needs us!” Jonathan cried.

“Lil Peekaboo needs us!” Patrick corrected, as Mike stood up in the background and walked up to them.

Russell put his hand on the Blackhawk’s shoulder. “I’m here for you!”

Jonathan smiled, sweetly.

“We’re here for you!” Mike corrected, putting his hand on the hockey captain’s shoulder.

“Thanks. Sharpie, you have anything?”

“Nah. I’m not going to pump your tires, To-ez. Let’s just go rescue Kaner!” He turned to the door and opened it up. “Let’s check out this warehouse!”

****

Meanwhile,

Jermaine half ran, half limped away from the building that he had been kept in. His leg and shoulder screamed at him, seering his entire body with a sharp, stinging pain, that made him wince. He was losing a lost of blood and it was beginning to take a toll on him. His vision was blurring and clouding over, but he couldn’t stop. He didn’t stop. He didn’t dare to look back or even think about getting the building’s location.

And it was too late anyway.

He would have to explain why he left a fellow, innocent athlete back in the warehouse to die. But he had also made a promise to himself that Patrick would be found. He had to find someone, anyone and tell them.

After about five minutes of fleeing the scene, Jermaine started to feel dizzy. He was slowing down tremendously. He must have lost a lot of blood. He glanced around and decided that he could take shelter behind one of the trees. He sat down and leaned against a tree. He knew if he closed his eyes, he might never wake up, but he was just so tired. His breathing was forced and shallow. It was distorted from the running and choking back on the agony that welled inside of him.

He put his head against the tree, attempting to calm his nerves and his heart rate. He didn’t hear any footsteps or anything, just his own breathing.

After a few seconds, there was quiet and he had managed to get control over himself. He glanced at his shoulder, which was disturbing looking, caked with blood, like Wesley from The Princess Bride, after he was attacked by the giant rodent creature. He tilted his head back, waiting. The pain was a lot for him, but he was willing to fight through it like a warrior, so he could survive. He had to rescue Patrick Kane and he couldn’t do that if he gave away his location and was captured once more.

After a few more minutes, he was about to peer around the tree and look to see where he was, when he heard footsteps and a voice.

"Jermaine?" he heard someone calling his name. It must have been one of the villains, so he didn't answer. He choked back the terror that filled him once more. "Jermaine? Chop Chop, where are you?" Wait, that wasn't Crabtree or Avery. It sounded familiar and much more friendlier.

It sounded like…..

It was Russell Wilson.

"I-I'm over here," Jermaine gasped out. He doubted if his quarterback could hear him. His voice was too quiet from all of his adrenaline and the feeling of the dry mouth he had from running.

"Jermaine?" Russell called out again. “Chop Chop?”

Jermaine thought of standing up, but he still had the bullet in his leg and his shoulder was no use. He carefully rotated himself around and peered around the tree as best as he could. He let out a small scream, doing his best to raise his voice so he could be heard.

Luckily, Russell had heard that and ran over to where the injured football player was. He dropped down to his buddy by the tree and put two fingers to his neck, to check for a pulse. It was there, but faint and growing fainter by the minute, due to the blood loss.

"Jermaine? Are you alright?" Jermaine Kearse didn't answer. "I'm going to go--"

"No! Please don't leave me. Please don't leave me." Jermaine grabbed at his quarterback’s uniform collar, halting him. He made sure to use his good hand and arm. His other arm was limp at his side anyway, being used to prop him on his side.

"Jermaine, I need to get you help!"

"Don't go. Please don't leave me alone again!" Jermaine started to cry.

“Chop Chop, please….you are badly hurt.”

“Patrick Kane, he’s in trouble! He’s in terrible trouble!”

“Jermaine, I need to get you some help though!”

“Avery is going to kill him! You have to go save Patrick Kane! He doesn’t deserve this! He doesn’t deserve to die!”

Russell knew that his teammate needed medical attention, but he wouldn't let him leave. To make matters worse, Jermaine's arms and legs were bleeding pretty badly and the temporary cop knew that if he didn't get his wide receiver help soon, there wouldn't be a Jermaine Kearse to get help for.

So, the quarterback did the only reasonable thing he could think of. He picked the injured man up and started to carry him out of the woods.

"What are you doing?" his wide receiver questioned.

"I needed to get you help but you wouldn’t let me leave. I guess I just needed to bring you with me.”

“Oh, right...but what about Kaner?”

“We’ll get him, but first we need to get you help! Tazer and I can go after him, once you are safe!”

Russell carried Jermaine over to the car, they’d come in. He emerged from the wood. “Mike!! Mike Rob!” He struggled to continue holding his friend, as he became more and more slumped over.

Mike bolted out from behind the car and rushed over, catching Jermaine’s legs, before he was dropped completely and aided his quarterback out. Patrick Sharp and Jonathan joined them.

“Where’s Kaner?” the Blackhawk captain asked, hope filling his brown eyes.

“Peekaboo?” the prankster squeaked, choking back the tears. This was something totally new and different from him. He was never this emotional over Patrick Kane or anyone. He was always smirking and laughing and having a playful, fun time. But now he was serious and tear-eyed….he was EMOTIONAL.

Jermaine was placed in the back of Patrick’s truck. He leaned against the side of the vehicle at the end, clenching his teeth and breathing in painful gasps. “He--He didn’t make it…they caught him!” He screamed, as Mike tried to at least dress his shoulder wound. He had found a sheet in the back of the pick-up and with Patrick’s okay, tore off a strip and wrapped it around his shoulder, to stop the blood.

“I had him. But Avery...man….Avery, he got him!” Jermaine was shaking with trepidation. He ignored the searing pain that shot through him as he lifted his hands up and covered his face.

“Don’t cry Jermaine,” Russell begged.

“Where, where is he?” the prankster stammered, his mouth dried than ice. He blinked back tears that came into his eyes.

“Where were you held?” Jonathan asked, gazing kindly into the scared eyes of the football player.

“In the warehouse man. In some giant abandoned warehouse!” He winced, tensing up, as Mike dressed his leg wound. “It’s through those trees. I tried to help him escape, but they caught him! That poor, poor hockey player!” His head then lolled to the side, and he coughed violently. He looked like he had been drugged and his face was turning a deadly pale color.

“Sharpie call 9-1-1 and get an ambulance here fast!” Jonathan demanded of his friend.

Patrick Sharp nodded and whipped his phone out instantly. He stepped to the side and dialed 9-1-1 to get an ambulance to their location, as soon as possible. He hung up when he was done and came back to see what was happening. Mike had shifted his fellow Seahawk into a more comfortable position.

There was an ominous pile of dark crimson, which was traced up to Jermaine’s head. Some of the blood was on his lip, trickling down his chin. He didn’t look any better. He look sickly and like he was getting worse and worse. He heaved again and more spurted from his pale lips.

“Find him!” Was all the Seattle guy could manage to get out. “Find Patrick Kane.”

“We’ll go and find him and get him! Mike, Sharpie, stay here and watch over him. Stay with him even when the ambulance comes and keep him alive and safe!”

“You got it, Russ!” Mike saluted his quarterback, before turning back and continuing in his clean up of the receiver.

“Thank you, Tazer, let’s go rescue your teammate!”

Jonathan clenched his fist and brought it into the air. They hopped into the other car there and speed off toward the location of the warehouse.

Notes

Awwwww poor Chop Chop. He's concerned for Kaner's well-being. A football player cares for a hockey player!!!!!! :D
But yay Jermaine is safe!!!! But what about poor Peekaboo????
The answer is coming up soon.....well maybe in a week or so....sorry....