Project Blackhawk (or The Blackhawk Experiment)

Or was it…

Jonathan Toews was dragged into the same building that Patrick Kane had been taken to earlier. He was roughly forced into a room that was directly inside by the three men and shoved down into a chair. He found himself in the middle of two other people, who were tied to chairs. They both looked up as he was sat down and tied to the chair like the other two hostages.

Jonathan glimpsed a blond and a brunette. Both familiar to him.

“Tyler Seguin? Patrick Kane...Kaner!?”

A muffled cry greeted his ears. He would have recognized the voice, but luckily a muffle was just as good. It was his poor friend. Jonathan felt the knot tighten around his arms, alerting him that they’d finished binding him to the chair. The brunette tried to kick out, but felt his legs immobilized to the legs of the chair. He tried to turn to look at Patrick, but he was pasted in a pretty stationary position to the chair. He grunted and threw his head back.

“What did you do to Patrick?” Jonathan snapped.

One of the men smirked and snapped his fingers. The other two dragged the chair that was to the left side of him around to face him momentarily. “You mean this Patrick?” the man who’d snapped laughed wickedly. One of the two men wrenched Patrick’s head up by his hair.

“You gagged Peekaboo?!” Jonathan looked into the soft clouded blue eyes of his best friend. He saw that Patrick had black tape wrapped around his head and over his mouth. The poor man groaned before he was shoved back into his place. Jonathan felt sympathy for him.

“And what did you do to Tyler Seguin?”

Again, the chair to his right was dragged out and the same routine played out. “You mean this Tyler Seguin?” the same man laughed wickedly. The same man who had puppeted Patrick’s head, now yanked Tyler’s back by his hair. Unlike Patrick, Tyler’s brown eyes were furious and unamused. He was also bleeding for a multitude of cuts and looked pretty beat up and awful-looking. He instantly jerked his head from side to side, grunting behind the black tape on his mouth.

He was rewarded with a firm slap across the face and then shoved back into place. Jonathan could feel his heart beating fiercely in his chest. What was gonna happen to them? Where were Shawzy, Dave and Brandon?

“Let them go!” Jonathan pleaded.

“Uh, no…! Pronger said no!” the man who’d snapped replied.

“At least take the tape off of them then!”

“Nope.”

“Come on guys, you can’t really be serious about following Pronger and all his bone-headedness. This is so illegal!”

“Not in Prongerville, it isn’t! Now, it’s time for you to shut up! Close that mouth of yours Jonny Boy, or we’ll do it for you,” the snap man said as he withdrew the roll of black tape. He stepped forward and wrapped it around Jonathan’s head.

Jonathan figured it wouldn’t be smart to fight back. He let the men apply the adhesive to his head. He wasn’t happy, but what could he do. They backed away from him as they stepped back, Chris Pronger entered with his little sidekick Zac Rinaldo. Rinaldo was rubbing his hands together and smirking wickedly.

“Jonny, Patrick and Tyler, my three favorite NHL hockey players!” Pronger sneered. He was dressed elegantly, like a king or president or evil warlord. He gestured to the three men to leave him and Rinaldo alone. “Rinny, be a good assistant and stand by the door please. I’d like to warm up the subjects...you know.”

Rinaldo clapped his hands and skipped to the door. He closed it and stood leaning against it. Pronger halted before Jonathan. He reached out and touched the brunette Blackhawk’s cheek with the back of his hand. Jonathan flinched at the sudden touch and rolled his head to the side.

“Poor Jonathan Toews, so close and yet...so far. You tried to save your winger, but you didn’t get there...fast enough.” He dragged his fingers up and down Jonathan’s cheek and ran them over the black tape. “Oh Jonny in five minutes those lips of yours will never touch Patrick’s again.”

Jonathan moaned behind the adhesive.

“It’s okay, you don’t have say anything, sweetie. And I already gave you and the little blondie some last second bonding time.” Pronger let his fingers gradually drag behind him across Jonathan’s face as he came to Patrick.

Patrick looked at him. “Patrick Timothy Kane Jr, the man who had enormous potential but decided to mess with the wrong Flyer...such a shame.” He ruffled Patrick’s blond locks and then moved to the last person: Tyler.

“And then there was Tyler Paul Seguin, the brave, yet foolish friend of John Tavares, who tried to warn Patrick and Jonathan but it was too late as he was captured by Pronger’s loyal henchman Rinny.”

Tyler seemed to muffle a “bite me” behind the tape and jerked at his bonds. Pronger seized Tyler’s chin in his hand and held his head still with his thumb and index finger. Tyler glared at him.

“Don’t care, Tyler,” Pronger sneered. “You can glare at me all you want, but you failed sweetheart and now, it’s time for this world to say goodbye to Jonathan Toews and Patrick Kane! DEATH TO THE KAZER!!”

With that, Pronger whisked away from them, spun on his heels and threw some small bean at them. It landed at Jonathan’s feet and instantly a wormhole was opened up. Pronger cackled and watched as the trip was sucked into the portal. Then he too jumped in.

When he reappeared on the other side, they were standing in Jonathan’s home, back in 1988. “You ready for this Jonny Boy! You get to watch your own death!” Pronger walked forward, withdrawing a simple dagger from his pocket. The brunette saw him walk up to a crib and flip back a blanket. The wicked man reached into the crib and picked up a a small sleeping baby. Jonathan gasped and his eyes flew wide.

Pronger slowly turned to the tied up Jonathan. He raised the dagger up in his hand and put it to baby Jonathan’s neck. “Such a precious, innocent child you were Jonny.”

Jonathan shook his head and pleaded his case behind the tape. Tears filled his eyes and he trembled in the chair.

“Don’t worry Jonny, when your parents wake up, you’ll be dead.” And he made a precise slitting motion with the blade to the baby’s neck. He placed the child back in the crib and turned to see Jonathan twinkling away into nothing as he cried and whimpered.

“Kanerboo, let’s see your childhood, eh?”

Pronger throw another tiny object toward the remaining two men and once more all of them vanished into the portal, leaving the Toews’ house. As they traveled, Patrick and Tyler heard a loud, echoing, heartbreaking scream. It was a female’s. Most likely Jonathan’s mother finding out about her son’s death.

Then before they knew it, they were in Patrick’s home in Buffalo in 1988. Pronger cleaned off his knife blade and walked over to where baby Patrick was asleep in his crib, which was properly placed in the tied up Patrick’s vision. The blond was already in tears and fighting to remain calm.

Pronger glowered and picked of the baby Patrick now. He slit the baby’s throat and then put him back. “Shouldn’t have won the cup Kanerboo...shouldn’t-a been a Hawk!” Patrick twinkled away now into nothing. Pronger came over and now took the knife and slashed the ropes off Tyler.

Tyler removed the tape from his mouth and got to his feet. “Fuck you Pronger!”

“Let’s get back to my land and so you can go where you rightfully deserve to be, a lowly Blackhawk.”

(Holy crap, Pronger’s such an evil bastard!)

Pronger grabbed Tyler by the collar of his shirt and threw the last bean down on the ground, disappearing into another, smaller portal. They were once again sucked in and dumped back in the dark room where the three players had been held hostage. Tyler glanced at the now empty chairs where Jonathan Toews and Patrick Kane had been sitting.

Were they really dead?

Pronger dragged Tyler toward the door and shoved him at Rinaldo. “Deplete his memory! But keep his fear and terror from this event.” Then Pronger walked out of the building, leaving Tyler with Rinaldo.

Rinaldo led Tyler down the hall and into another room. Inside, there was a solitary chair. Many men had sat in it previously: Patrick Sharp, Gabriel Landeskog, Brandon Saad...and now Tyler Seguin would join them, a pawn in Pronger’s wicked plan.

He was forced down into the chair and strapped in tightly to it, so that he wouldn’t escape. Then Rinaldo left him alone. Tyler squirmed in the restraints. He had to get out, so he could find out a way to get Jonathan and Patrick back. There had to be a way to do it! There had to be!

As it turned out, he wouldn’t get the chance to...Phil Kessel walked into the room, smirking. He was carrying a helmet like one might see in sci-fi movies. He placed it on Tyler’s head and situated it in place. Tyler lunged at the restraints again.

“Having fun there Seguin?”

“You can all go to the deepest part of Hell!”

Kessel put his hands on Tyler’s shoulders and wrenched him backward, into the chair, so that Kessel’s head hovered over Tyler’s. “Gladly. Now, keep your head straight Tyler and it won’t hurt as much. One slight movement and...well...you don’t wanna know.” He pressed a button on the helmet.

Tyler literally spat at him and then hissed, “Piss off.”

“Wonderful.”

Tyler glared at him, while he moved to the controls, ignoring the soon-to-be-ex-Dallas Star. The helmet buzzed to life and began to work it’s magic.

Kessel walked around to the side and leaned over the chair. He was grinning from ear-to-ear with a sinister smile. “Tyler, in about two minutes, you’ll be a Blackhawk and under my captaincy. I can’t wait.”

He withdrew, his smile twisting more as Tyler began to scream in agony. Kessel stepped to the side and eyed his watch. When the two minutes passed, Tyler Seguin had vanished from the chair.

“Time to greet the new teammate and introduce him to Bur and Sharpie!”

****

In Chicago,

Tyler Seguin reappeared in the middle of the Blackhawk locker room, right to the side of the common Indian Head symbol. He looked around and then saw a stall that was made for him. “No, no, no!” He ran over to the stall and tried to remove the nameplate, but it was stuck in place. He spun around, his eyes full of fear. The door to the room swung open and Kessel walked in with two older troublesome-looking men. Patrick Sharp and Adam Burish.

“No!” Tyler gasped.

He sat down in the stall, looking at them with big eyes. His fight was completely gone, the fear that had been there was allowed to flood him and control him. His heart beat rapidly in his chest. Kessel leaned against one side of the stall. Sharpie took the other side and Burish stood in front. They trapped him in the stall, blocking any exits.

“Tyler, this is Sharpie and Bur, Chicago’s “merry” pranksters. Up until now little Saader was their targets, but since you are such a handsome-looking target, I think I’ll have them go after you instead. How’s that sound?”

Tyler bit his lip and just stared at all three of them with worry.

“The silence is reassuring. Also, I may have tweaked the helmet a bit to counteract with your speaking. You can speak, but it won’t be too much...you’re not going to be outspoken!” Tyler looked at Kessel, who smirked. “Welcome to the Blackhawks, Seggy! Bur? Sharpie? Why don’t you have a little fun and introduce him to the way things are run around here, also punish him for spitting in my face. I take it, it won’t happen again, but still...”

Kessel waved his hand in farewell and walked back out of the room. Burish and Sharpie grabbed Tyler’s arms and yanked him up out of the stall. They began to beat him up with punches and kicks to the legs and knees to the stomach. Then they dragged him out of the locker room and down the hall.

They emerged from the tunnel and flung him onto the ice. Tyler hit the ice and slowly pushed himself up by his hands. He was trembling and that made it difficult, but as he looked around the United Center, he saw an arena that was the furthest thing from the United Center.

The Madhouse on Madison was no more.

And standing at the other side of the ice, leaning against the boards, was a smirking Michal Therrien. Tyler’s arms gave out on him and he collapsed on the ice, sobbing. He had failed...and...

This was the “new” normal. A world...an NHL without Jonathan Toews and Patrick Kane.

Notes

Oh snap!
I didn't.
But I did.
Yes, that is right Pronger succeeded in killing Kazer!
Oh how is this gonna end? What does Tavy have up his sleeve...or does he have anything?
Sorry Tyler. Forgive me for the - what is this - like one hundredth time. :P Hey at least you get to be Black Widow in another story though. ;)
Oh, I can break out this little picture:

Poor Seggy, Tazer, and Kaner...


Next up: John Tavares is one smart son of a gun!