Jonathan Drouin’s POV

I was always the second best to that forward! I was like Family Guy to the Simpsons! I couldn’t very well let that Colorado Avalanche centerman get away with all the shit he’d done to me. I meant what I had said! I was sick of being Nathan’s friend if he was going to continue to be a burden and hurt me. I had to do something about it. I wasn’t about to just sit back and let him have the upper hand. No.

But what could I possibly do to him?

I had to be clever and smart and not get caught. Maybe I could terrorize him. I wasn’t sure. As I sat on my couch in my house in Tampa, Florida nursing my thumb injury, I was stuck watching NHL hockey games on my TV screen. I had decided to put on the 9:00 pm game of the Minnesota Wild vs the Colorado Avalanche. My reason was that I wanted to see Nathan MacKinnon crash and burn on live TV!

The game started slow and I saw Nathan turn the puck over to the Wild a few times. He looked rather rusty, but his stupid captain, Gabriel Landeskog got in his face and I could tell that he was yelling at him. I snickered to myself, giving my TV a twisted grin.

“That’s right, MacKinnon. You are going to have the sophomore slump and before long, I, Jonathan Drouin will be back in action. I will be the ONLY Halifax player to get points and break out! I will be the next Sidney Crosby, not you!”

I got to my feet and let out a growl, throwing a pillow at the wall, behind the cuddler part of my couch. It hit the wall with a rather loud thump sound.

“I need some popcorn, if this is going to be going like this!!”

I walked around the end of the couch and into my kitchen, leaving the TV on a solid volume of 34 so I could hear it. I wanted to hear the broadcaster say, “Nathan MacKinnon doesn’t look so good, Doc...” and “Nathan MacKinnon turns the puck over the Wild put it in the back of the net!”

I went over to my pantry and pulled out a bag of butter popcorn and carefully opened it up. It was a little difficult to do with my wrapped up thumb in a cast to protect it from being damaged any farther, but I managed to get by the issues. I threw it into the microwave and pressed the “popcorn” button. Then I snatched up the wrapped and threw that away in my trash can. I could hear the popping sound underneath the sound of the game. This was going to be a fun evening.

And then this happened, “Zach Parise gets a penalty, dragging down Nathan MacKinnon. That’s a penalty shot, Doc!”

“That’s right, Enzo. As you can see, Nathan is using his speed on a breakaway chance, from a bad line change by the Wild, but is pulled down last minute with interference from the backchecking of Zach Parise.”

“DAMMIT!!” I screamed, as the microwave finished with two beeps. I opened the door, grabbed the bag out, and slammed it closed once more. I darted back to the couch and plopped down, just in time to see the young Avalanche forward go forward with his one-on-one penalty shot and score. 1-0 Avalanche. Fuck!

He had scooped the puck into his stick at the blue line and shot forward. He pulled a few sweet moves that made me grumble with fury. Then he drew the goalie out of his crease and tapped the disk across to his forehand and sent it past the man into the back of the net. Very Patrick Kane-like.

I watched the man cheer and celebrate with his teammates, happy and safe. He was having the time of his life, while I...I had to fricking nurse a thumb injury and remain out! It wasn’t fair. I had to think of a way to get back at him! I had to!!

The rest of the game sucked, and by the end of the second period, I gave up and switched to a different game. Nathan MacKinnon was having a five-point night. He had two more goals and two assists. Gabriel Landeskog and Ryan O’Reilly owned the goals, he’d assisted on. Jarome Iginla had also scored. The Avalanche were steam-rolling the Wild.

As I watched the end of the Penguin’s game, I thought about what I could possibly do to the young centerman. He HAD to pay for his recklessness and hurting me. As I thought, I remembered that I had heard about this drug that people used. It was similar to mushrooms, giving the consumer powerful hallucinations. I figured that that would be a pretty cool revenge scheme. I was willing to try it. At the time, I wasn’t going to kill Nathan, I just wanted him to know that I wasn’t okay with what he’d done and that we were no longer friends. We were rivals, yes, but I wasn’t a killer.

So I made my way to the pharmacy and learned about what I needed for my grand plan. I decided that I was going to make my way into the Pepsi Center for the Colorado Avalanche’s next game against the Dallas Stars and slip a little something into the water bottle of my dear Halifax Moosehead.

I found the ingredients I needed for the hallucination drug. I made it back to my place and got everything ready, then I snuck onto the next flight to Colorado. The flight was smooth and rather fast and before long I touched down in the mile high city of Denver.

I got off the plane, grabbed my belongings and made my way out of the airport. I hailed a taxi and before an hour had passed, I was standing in front of the busy Pepsi Center. I snickered to myself, as I made my way into the building. I slipped, unnoticed down a hallway. I had decided to wear a typical badass outfit, including a dark hoodie. I pulled the brim of the hood lower over my head and ducked into the room where I knew the bottles would be. I found myself at the end of the tunnel of the home team. The water bottles were all lined up along the railing.

“Now, which one is Kinny’s…” I hissed to myself, looking for his name and bottle. I didn’t see it which was a bit odd. Maybe Colorado was different. I spotted a bottle that was over his spot and snuck up to the railing and the bench.

I unscrewed the top of the bottle and sprinkled in some of the hallucination poison. (The drug was in the form of a powder) I screwed the lid back on, put the bottle back in place and stepped back. I nodded.

“Now, Nathan, it’s time for you to get what you asked for!” I cackled like some TV show villain who’d just committed a dastardly and despicable act.

Suddenly I didn’t care if the poison killed the hockey player and it was because of me. I was feeling the rush of a bad guy. And I liked it. But as I gazed across the railing, I saw another set of water bottles and now I saw one with his name on it. I cursed to myself. Luckily I hadn’t used up all the powder. In fact, I had a bunch. I figured that it was too late to do anything about the bottle I’d messed with, but luckily I hadn’t put a whole lot in.

“Dammit. Oh well…an unfortunately casualty in a sabotage-style war.”

I opened the door and carefully made my way across the ice surface to the bottle. I unscrewed the cap and dumped in twice as much of the powder this time. I figured that I really wanted to hurt him. So I finished filling his drink with the “silent poison” and recapped the bottle. I chuckled to himself, smirking as I finished up my plan. I stuffed the remaining bag of the powder into my pocket and made my way off the ice.

I walked back down the tunnel and entered the locker room. I heard voices outside and looked around for a place to hide. There was none. I walked over and made it look like I was visiting or something.

Gabriel Landeskog walked in. He spotted me with a curiously look on his face. “Jonathan Drouin?”

The charade was over. My identity was known. I had to think fast. I removed my hood. “Alright, man you got me.”

“What are you doing in our locker room?”

Ideas flooded through my head. I could attack him or hurt him. I could run. I could force the powder down his throat. But I wanted to remain unknown. “Well, Nathan had some baking soda that I needed. I texted him, asking if I could borrow some.” I hid my bad hand behind me and with my good hand, I reached into my pocket and took out the bag. I hoped he would buy it. I didn’t think Gabriel was dumb, but I hoped he was naive enough.

He raised an eyebrow at me. “I know Nathan and you aren’t talking. What are you really doing?”

Shit! He knew! Damn it!

I thought quickly, racking my brain and then I got an idea. “Sorry, did I say Nathan, that backstabber ex-friend. I meant to say Iggy. You can’t let Iggy know about this though. He would flip out over it. The poor guy is a wreck and we’ve been helping each other out.”

“With baking powder?”

“Yeah. It’s “baking powder.” I leaned toward him, winking.

The captain’s eyes went wide with shock. “Oh! I understand. Well, I’m glad that you are helping out. But next time, can you give me a heads up.”

“Sure, Landy.”

“Thanks. Now you’d better get back to Florida. I think the Bolts need ya. Badly.”

“Haha. Yeah, and the Avs need you too. Badly.”

I scurried out, stuffing the bag of powder back into my pocket. I walked briskly away, not daring to look back. I slipped back out of the back-ice area and made it successfully out of the arena.

I hopped into a cab and headed back to the airport. I looked back and sighed with relief. Ha, Gabriel Landeskog was naive! And now there was no stopping the coming events. Nathan MacKinnon was going to be off the deep end with issues. As I thought about seeing my ex-friend terrified with visions and being haunted by colorful and vivid hallucinations, it made my smirk and soon I was cackling.

I was a regular villain now and I’d gotten away with something extremely illegal.

“Call me second best to Nathan MacKinnon now, you stupid NHL analysts! Call him the next Sidney Crosby now. Call him the best rookie...number 1...whatever now! Oh wait, he’s dug himself a hole in the negatives?? AH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”

For so long everyone was referring to Nathan MacKinnon as the best player from the 2013 draft. They always referred to me, Jonathan Drouin, as the second best to the number one. In Halifax, it was the same way. Sure the bastard drove me to practice every day, but that meant nothing. And Nathan had a breakout season, while I was still in Halifax. The list went on and on about all of the great accomplishments of the “number one” player, yet, the “second best” was struggling just to make it in the league. He had gotten a broken thumb just from falling on the ice awkwardly trying to have some fun! And why had he gotten that? Because of the “number one!”

Unfortunately, I didn’t know that the other person, who had received the “poisoning.” But after the news broke about how awful Nathan MacKinnon was playing...and that he was having “episodes”...I learned that the other person was a Dallas Star.

Named Valeri Nichushkin.

The Russian.

****

Nathan’s POV

Val and I had no idea what to make of this and what was happening to us. But we were having a nice conversation in the hallway of the arena. In the background, we could hear the sounds of the game. We heard the announcement of “2:00 minutes remaining in the period.” But we chatted with one another. And believe it or not the Russian kid could carry a conversation in English pretty well.

“So any ideas as to what could have happened to cause you to hallucinate like that?” Val asked me, grinning cluelessly.

I shrugged. I had no idea. Honestly, it was a mystery to me. “I honestly have no idea, Val. I just started hallucinating all of the sudden.It started the night after we played the first time in the Pepsi Center.”

“I remember that! Yeah. That was the game right before Sergei’s--” he trailed off with a sniffle, looking down at his feet.

“I get ya. It’s okay. I understand losing a close friend.”

Val looked up at me. His eyes were sparkling with the tear-stain.

“I participated in this charity event with Sidney and a few other NHL players over summer. But when we were playing the scrimmage, I accidentally hit my friend Jo, um, Jonathan Drouin. He’s with the Lightning, but he suffered from a thumb injury. I tried to apologize to him, but he wouldn’t take it and he stormed out of the arena. I haven’t heard from him sense.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Well, I just hope that he bounces back quickly. I don’t like him being silent all this time.”

“You haven’t heard from him at all?”

“No. And I don’t think it is good.”

“But I’m sure he isn’t the reason for the hallucinations, Kinny,” a voice spoke behind us.

Both of us spun around to see the captain of the Avalanche walking into the hallway, leading the rest of the team. Jamie was beside of him. It was weird seeing them both there. Behind them, Jarome Iginla and Tyler Seguin stood. Tyler was looking at the older player in disgust for some reason, his nose wrinkled up.

“Landy?” I gasped, bewildered.

“He was just a little angry that you hurt him. I remember you telling me the story and I’m sorry, I truly am! But he’s actually an okay guy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I ran into Jo in the locker room and he told me that he was helping Iggy out with drugs.”

“I’m not doing drugs. Never had and never will,” Jarome stated, shaking his head.

“What? What do you mean that you’re not doing drugs?”

“I’m not doing drugs, Landy. I swear, whatever that Lightning Bolt was doing in the Locker Room, it wasn’t about drugs and helping me out.”

“So what does that mean?” I questioned.

“It means that Jo lied to me about what he was doing in the locker room, however, we can’t pin him as the reason for giving you two the hallucinations. Whatever he really had in that bag he had…”

“So whatever he WAS doing, we can’t blame him yet?” Tyler asked, putting a hand on his hip.

“And this is why you aren’t the captain of the Dallas Stars or even an Assistant Captain!” Jamie snapped.

Tyler frowned.

Val spoke up, “So it wasn’t Sergei?”

“No, it wasn’t Sergei, Val.”

“But he retired and I was sad.”

“That doesn’t mean that it was or wasn’t Sergei, just like it doesn’t mean it was or wasn’t Jonathan Drouin,” Gabriel commented.

“So how do we stop the hallucinations? We obviously won’t get an antidote yet.” I folded my arms and shook my head. I gave off a sigh of frustration. I wanted to know just like everyone else who the perpetrator was.

Val was biting his lip and gazing around like he always seemed to do. He was so adorable. The poor guy was helplessly lost. I put a hand on his shoulder in comfort. If it was Jonathan Drouin or even Sergei Gonchar, I wouldn’t let either of them get away with hurting us. He didn’t deserve it and neither did I.

“The only way I can think of--” Gabriel started to say.

“We can think of--” Jamie interrupted.

“--is having you two take a few days off or a week and see a psychologist.”

“You need to get some help and we think it’s the right move.”

“Yes, Jamie and I both agree. It will help you and when you both are better and return you can come out strong and get us more goals, alright?”

“Alright!” Val and I exclaimed in unison.

“Get some professional help buddy. Sergei would want you to.” I watched as Tyler stepped forward and ruffled his teammate on the head a little bit. I saw the guy laugh and smile. He didn’t seem to mind the “nuggie” treatment from his linemate.

I turned to Gabriel and gave him a look that read, “don’t you dare.” He didn’t move. He just shrugged and spun to Jamie. The two captains chatted warmly. The game was over anyway. It was just the six of them standing there...well five, Jarome walked into the Avalanche guest locker room to get changed. Val and I remained in the hall, waiting as Tyler, Jamie, and Gabriel all changed in a hurry and came back out.

“We’ll keep an eye and ear out and do some digging ourselves to figure out who did this to you. We will get to the bottom of this boys!” Gabriel stated with a nod from both Jamie and Tyler.

We all left the arena together and even though it was late at night now, we made it to a psychologist place in Dallas, Texas. It wasn't far from the American Airlines Center.

Our teammates bid us both farewell and I was told to keep Val safe and to “be nice.” That wasn’t going to be a problem. I chirped back saying that it would be better than having to babysit Tyler Seguin like the Bruins had to do! That got a chorus of laughter and grumbles from the ladies man.

With that, we walked into the office, where we would be hanging out for a few days. It was really some smaller mental hospital type place. And we were placed under the care of a female psychologist named Dolphiana Caffrey. She was...well....unique with her methods and approach.

Notes

**Okay, so I went back and reworked this a little, it's pretty much the same, but nobody points the finger at Jo and I am going to have Gabe, Jamie, and Tyler working as a clue-gathering trio. And Tyler's going to get captured by Jo, it's gonna be great! Man, this story just gets weirder and weirder, but more unpredictable and exciting, right?
This will still apply:
So what did we learn in this little chapter, eh?
Well, Jo is insane and possibly a high-profile villain, (maybe get him checked out for some sinister cells and stick him with Kesler and Co.) Iggy does drugs and Jo helps him, it's Landy's fault! And poor, poor, poor, poor Valeri Nichushkin.....

Next up: Meet the weird psychologist and her various "methods" for copying with psychological horror. And our trio starts to look for clues!