Resurrection and Revenge

Michael Crabtree and Patrick Kane made it to Paris, France without a disturbance. Once there, they hurried out of the airport and hailed a cab. Patrick’s wrists were still bound together in front of him and he received plenty of looks, but no one questioned it or helped him out. In fact, many kept their distance from them.

They made it through Paris and arrived at the historic Notre Dame. Patrick finally started to put up a fight. He grabbed at the interior of the cab car, but failed miserably at it.

“Poor Patty Kane.”

And Crabtree yanked him out and dragged him kicking and screaming into the church. He shoved the blond Blackhawk into the church roughly. Then the black man slammed the door and locked it behind him.

“Please, don’t do this. I’m begging you!”

“Kanerboo, don’t make me gag you again!”

“I’m sorry.” Patrick backed into the church, down the vast hallway.

“Kanerboo!!” Crabtree snapped and stomped forward.

The winger backed right into a pole and stared up with horror at the scary man, who seized him and led him into the heart of the building. They burst into the main part of the church, where pues and the large stage with the massive pipe organ were. On either side, lining the edges of the interior, were the classic and familiar stain glass windows. Inside there, Crabtree shoved Patrick down on the stage.

Patrick stumbled onto his side and tried to heave himself into a sitting position, but couldn’t get up far enough, before Crabtree stomped up onto the stage and grabbed the blond man by the collar of his shirt. He yanked him to his feet and dragged him backward to a chair that was already covered in ropes.

“I’m begging you Crabs!”

“No!” the ex-football player snapped. “You don’t get to call me that!”

He shoved the hockey player into the chair and proceeded to bind him to it. But Patrick didn’t make it easy for him. He kicked and screamed and thrashed about. Finally Crabtree was fed up and slammed his head backward into the chair. The action caused a wound to open up in the back of his head and he began to bleed out. The crimson color mixed into the blond hair locks that were already on his head.

“Crabtree!”

“Kanerboo!”

The black man pulled a knot tightly and finally attached both of the Blackhawk’s ankles in place. Then he wrapped a rope around his upper arms, which pasted him upright in the chair. Patrick screamed like a little kid not getting his way. He jerked forward and tried to get himself free. He was so desperate, but the ounce of helplessness helped Crabtree out.

The African American strapped each of Patrick’s wrists to the arms of the chair. The blond forward for Chicago was stuck in place and he grunted in distress. Crabtree stepped backward to admire his work. He was grinning cleverly at himself.

“I got just as nice ropework as Avery does, eh?”

“Piss off, Crabs! Fuck you!!”

“Oh, don’t worry Kanerboo, sweetie, before long Avery’s gonna be here and then he’ll have some fun with you. Until then though, it’s time for you to shut your mouth and stop screaming.”

“Please, don’t…Pl--” Patrick started to whine, as Michael Crabtree slowly walked around the chair, teasing the poor man stuck to it. He began to whimper, but Crabtree didn’t care, he leaned over the back of the chair and held out a bandana before Patrick’s face.

“We can either do this the easy way...or...I can make your life a living hell. Now, open your mouth Patrick and let me stuff this bandana in place, otherwise, well, you don’t wanna know the consequences I have.”

Sure enough, Patrick whimpered a “please” and shakingly and slowly opened his mouth for the ex-football player, who instantly and rather roughly stuck it into place. He tied it in place at the nape of his neck and then patted Patrick’s cheek in farewell. The blond haired blue eyed hockey player closed his eyes and then a single tear rolled down his cheek.

He didn’t deserve this. Not at all.


One hour or so later,

The shadow of some big figure shined across the aisle floor of the Notre Dame. Seconds later, Sean Avery, the massive ex-hockey goon, appeared. He looked pissed off. He stormed up onto the stage.

“I heard you were giving Crabs shit!” Avery snarled.

He halted, hovering over the poor Chicago Blackhawk, who helplessly squirmed in place. Avery smacked his hand across Patrick’s face and then stomped on his foot. Patrick jolted in his seat, but - obviously - didn’t move very much. His eyes welled with tears.

“Don’t be bad Kanerboo!” Avery launched forward and grabbed Patrick around the neck and stuck his face directly in front of the forward, almost causing them to touch. His rank breath filled the Blackhawk’s nostrils and made his stomach turn, but it wasn’t like he could do much of anything. “Remember who’s in charge here...I will fuck you up!”

He leaned back up and released Patrick’s neck with a rough shove. “Now, let’s see, what should I do with you for fun? Hmmm...maybe I’ll let Tyler chose what I do to you!”

Patrick narrowed his eyes and muffled something in anger, but Avery just reached out and ruffled his hair. Obviously he wasn’t particularly happy about Avery bringing up another person’s name...and thinking about threatening someone too. And...Tyler? Tyler Seguin?

“Oh yes, you have yet to hear about my grand plan. I kidnapped some friends for you, as you know, and one of those is the famous Dallas Star forward! You know him, don’t you? Tyler Seguin, the media clown?”

Avery squatted down and put a hand on Patrick’s thigh.

“Kanerboo, to make this interesting, each time that you misbehave - either against Crabtree or me - one of your little Blackhawk friends is going to perish...meaning I will kill them! So, let’s get the party started then, eh?”

He got back up to his feet. Then he walked back off the stage and down the aisle, leaving Patrick alone once more for a little bit. When he returned, he was dragging in a shaggy brown haired man.

Tyler Seguin.

“Oh, don’t fight little Seggy, come on, it’s gonna be so much fun!!” Avery said, as he continued to drag the younger man toward the stage.

As they climbed up onto the stage, Patrick could see that poor Tyler, his best friend outside of the Blackhawks, was gagged with a handkerchief. He looked absolutely helpless and he wasn’t pleased with Avery’s scheme.

Avery shoved Tyler onto the stage. The Dallas player fell at the feet of Patrick. His wrists were bound behind him and he couldn’t do much of anything to move. Avery stomped up to him on the stage and he kicked the Star in the ribs. In the process the handkerchief fell off and hung loosely about his neck.

“Avery, you bastard!” Tyler snapped.

“You really wanna mouth off to me Seguin?!” Avery growled.

“You can’t keep me here! Jamie will find me!”

“You can join Club Kanerboo in the Hope Department, but I’m sorry...at the moment we’re fresh out!” Avery kicked Tyler in the stomach now.

Tyler screamed and doubled over in pain. Avery kneed him in the face next and managed to bloody Tyler’s nose. The Dallas Star rolled over and attempted to kick out at the goon. However he missed and instead was seized by Avery, who halted him and then kicked him right between the legs.

“Avery!!” Tyler shouted.

“Seggy, you screaming at me isn’t doing much of anything! In fact it is doing nothing! I’m going to hurt you and I’m going to break you!”

Tyler mustered his strength and attacked Avery again, who grabbed him around the throat and lifted him up to his feet. “Knock it off Seguin!” He started to choke Tyler, who kicked and struggled, but didn’t get much accomplished. He was slammed back down on the stage and then immediately attached to the leg of the chair, where Patrick was tied down to.

Avery wrapped the end of a long rope around Tyler’s already-bound wrists and then the other end to the leg, making him look like Patrick’s “pet.” Tyler yanked at it, but he couldn’t pull free. Instead, he just sat there with his arms bound behind his back and unable to go anywhere. He glared at Avery, as the man rounded him and ruffled his hair.

“Oh, come now, Seggy, don’t look at me like that...here, let me help you out!” Avery stated. He paused in his pace and dropped down to Tyler. He lifted the handkerchief up to Tyler’s mouth once more. Tyler clamped his lips together and shook his head, but Avery smacked him roughly and shoved the material into place.

When it was inserted into place, Tyler didn’t like it and continued to try and shake it out of its place. He moved his head back and forth, attempting to get it out but having no success.

“There, better. Alright, Seggy and Kanerboo, let’s have some fun shall we, after all...this is Avery’s “fun” time! What shall we do?”

“What haven’t you done already, Asshole?!” Tyler tried to snarl, but couldn’t get out his thought clearly.

Luckily, Avery could interpret it...or rather...unluckily. The goon’s eyes were dark and glittering with his wicked madness inside. He eyed his two hostages with pleasure.

“Oh there’s just so much to chose from!”

Patrick closed his eyes once more. He really hoped that someone found them. But Avery once again held the upper edge and he wasn’t going to mess around too much. The moment something happened or Jonathan arrived that was it...Patrick Kane would be dead! It was something that couldn’t happen to Chicago! Chicago needed their Dynamic Duo and that included their precious shootout specialist, the shaggy blondie.

“Hm...let’s see here...”

Jonny, please find me! Jonny!!

“Maybe…”

Jonny, Avery has Tyler too and the boys!! Tazer, save me! Save them!

“Maybe we can...ooh I know! I’m going to let you two chat, but not here. No, I don’t want you to talk here. If you do I can hear it and I don’t want to hear either of you...especially you Seggy! You need to shut your annoying mouth and keep it shut!”

Tyler kicked out at Avery, but missed and it made him frustrated. The Star grunted and jerked on the rope again.

“Don’t fight Seguin, you’ll just hurt your pretty little self.”

Patrick’s eyes remained shut tight. He couldn’t stand this and why did Avery have to drag the entire NHL into this!! It was so wrong.

Jonny, please, help me and Tyler and the boys. Please. Avery cannot win!

Notes

Poor Seggy and Kanerboo....


Next up: Jonathan Toews wants to punch someone!! And nobody in Chicago or the NHL blames him.