Resurrection and Revenge

The blond winger looked absolutely terrified. He was extremely pale and looked almost sickly. The poor guy was shivering...or shaking...possibly traumatized from something Avery had done to him. All the fire, fight and passion that had been there earlier was gone. It was full of terror and fright.

“Patrick?!” Jonathan gasped in horror and pulled at the grip of Crabtree, who had a hold of him by his wrists to keep him still in one place.

“Jonny! Help me!” the blond winger squeaked out. He sounded so weak and petrified. He was like a little kid freaked out by the monsters in his closet or under his bed. It was pitiful and pathetic, but it broke the centerman’s heart to hear his friend sounding so distressed and helpless.

“Peeks, I’m here.” Jonathan started, jerking forward again. “I promise, I’ll--”

“SHUT UP!!” Avery snapped, pushing the needle in deeper into the skin of his blond hostage.

Patrick’s palms were sweaty now, his heart rate going through the roof, mouth dry as the Sahara desert. But he remained rock still. The pain was more than a simple pinch and it remained there. He was too scared to move.

He had always hated needles; hated they way they looked, hated the way they felt. Hated the pain. Just something about them that made his toes curl. But he could brave them. He could take a simple doctor’s shot...but this was more. This was darker. It was intended to hurt him and kill him.

Needles meant disease, death, hospitals, pain. Mostly pain.

Nothing good.

Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew he was being completely irrational in his way of thinking, but his fear was great enough to override any sense of rational thought on the subject. He knew it was all in his mind, but he was captured by the mere thought of it and what it did and it fueled his fear to a dangerous point. It was his Captain who sidetracked his thoughts finally.

“No! YOU shut up!” Jonathan spat back and gave one final sharp jerk against the grip on him. He finally managed to slip free and step forward.

Crabtree didn’t move or budge. He simply smiled and stepped to the side to surveil the scene. He didn’t chase after Jonathan, who thought it was weird and somewhat set up. Something was deathly wrong. He didn’t like it, but he had to focus on saving Patrick. He continued forward. That’s when Avery began to push down on the syringe pump. Jonathan froze in place, a few feet from where the chair was and Avery seized the opportunity and pushed down all the way.

Suddenly Patrick instantly gasped, opening his mouth. He was struggling to gulp in air like Darth Vader was choking him to death with the force or something invisible was slowly crushing his windpipes and making him unable to breathe. It was excruciatingly painful to watch. After a long struggle and horrific scene, his eyes fluttered shut and he fell limp.

“NO!!” Jonathan screamed. “KANER!!”

Avery snickered and yanked the needle from Patrick’s skin. He threw the useless weapon to the side and finally took off the rock helmet from the blond winger. He placed it on the table and turned back to look at Jonathan, who was gawking at his lifeless teammate.

Had Sean Avery really just succeeded in killing Patrick Kane?

Tears flooded the brunette’s eyes and he felt unable to move. He could feel his heart tear into two pieces, as he looked at his poor teammate, who was seemingly dead. The allotted time it took for him to come back to reality, the evil man had freed Patrick from the chair and shoved him toward his Captain.

“Have your precious winger back!”

“Kaner...wake up, Kaner…” Jonathan croaked out, as he caught the limp body and shook him, trying to wake him up but failing to do so. The tears began to cluttered in the bottom of his eyes, but didn’t drip out yet. “Please wake up! PATRICK!!” The tough hockey Captain broke down, dropping to his knees and holding his friend close to him. “Patrick, please wake up!” The haunting and horrific truth and reality hit him. He finally let the tears loose, bawling for his lost teammate and friend.

Avery pushed Tyler away more to the side and walked over to where Jonathan was holding Patrick close to him, stroking his hair and sobbing (pathetically). The evil man rounded him. Crabtree stood to the side, smirking.

“Tough break...really, a second earlier, you would have had him...you would have saved him again, but...you were too late,” the goon sneered.

“No, no…” Jonathan cried, refusing to accept the truth. “Kaner….Peeks…..Peeksy...no…..” Tears flooded from his eyes, expressing his sorrow. He wasn’t one to crack or show such vulnerability, especially on the ice, but this...his best friend had been killed by a revenge-filled ex-hockey player. Who wouldn’t be bawling their eyes out?

“He wouldn’t break...but...in a way, I guess I finally did manage to break him...by killing him!” the ex-New York Ranger spat.

“Peekaboo, please…” the poor Chicago athlete continued to beg. He rubbed Patrick’s red arms and buried his head into his neck. “I don’t want to play hockey without you...I can’t! Please wake up, I came, I saved you. Please!”

“Let it go, let it all out Jonny Boy...he fought me to the end, but Avery will always be there for the last laugh! Avery will always win! Avery will always best Patrick Kane and the Chicago Blackhawks. And hey, you could always just find a replacement for him...maybe one who won’t get drunk and beat up a goon!” Avery continued to sneer.

That did it!

Jonathan’s eyes snapped open and he raised his head up. His eyes were narrowed and he was pissed off. “I will never do that!! You son of a bitch! Kaner was completely innocent and you had to twist it in your dark, devilish hellhole of a mind that he wasn’t!” He gently pushed Patrick to the ground in front of him and stood up.

“What are ya gonna do, Toes?” Avery hissed, glowering.

“I’m going to kill you!!”

“Jonathan Toews, a killer? Impossible!”

“Believe it, because you’ve crossed the line big this time you fucking asshole!” Jonathan growled, spitting to the side.

“Bring it.”

The Blackhawk Captain balled his fists up at his sides and swung at Avery, narrowly missing hitting him in the mouth. But the man had dodged his swing, cackling.

“I hate you Avery! No, wait...I LOATHE you!!” Jonathan screamed and swung again. He missed, going wide again, but didn’t care. His fury was driving him. He had to get revenge for Patrick’s death.

“It won’t bring back Kanerboo!” Avery taunted.

“No, but I’m gonna kill you for him - for both of us!” Jonathan snarled. “You can’t walk out of here alive and if I die in the process, so be it!” The centre for Chicago wound up his fist again and raised it up.

Notes

Next up: Avery's death...for real this time? Let's find out.