And Then There Was One

Ryan Kesler was just traded to Anaheim from Vancouver. He had always wanted out of the shitty city known as Vancouver. The people were dicks and jerks there. They weren’t very nice to opponents and they had turned their back on and betrayed one of their own, in Milan Lucic. Even if Milan was kind of jerky on the ice to others, he wasn’t off the ice. He was a kind person and Ryan Kesler respected the man for it.

He was driving around his new city of Anaheim, California. He could only think how much he enjoyed the surroundings. This was a beautiful city compared to the shithole of Vancouver. (I’m sure Vancouver’s not that bad and all of it’s residents aren’t dickheads.)

Ryan tapped the shoulder of his tour guide, who led him around, looking at different structures and homes, where he could stay. He was fascinated by all of the nice tourists and people jogging around in the sultry afternoon air. It warmed his heart.

“So, Fred, how much is this one?” Kesler asked.

The driver answered his question, but Ryan focused on the window that he stared out of. He was struggling to come to a conclusion about where he wanted to live. He liked all of the places so far.

“I need to think some more, Fred. Take me back to the Honda Center, please. I want to speak to Boudreau.”

Fred, the driver, dipped his head, glancing into the mirror. They made it back to the Honda Center. Ryan got out of the backseat and paid the cabbie. After he was done, Fred zoomed off, leaving him in front of the massive arena building. He took in the gorgeous architecture, making the grand Anaheim hockey arena.

He drew in a big breath and then released it. He was about to walk inside, when a hand grabbed his shoulder and forced him to remain in his spot. He spun around.

A man wearing a mardi gras hat stood there, beaming largely.

“What do you want?” Ryan questioned, the corners of his mouth twisting into a rictus.

The man reached into his black cloak and withdrew a large white envelope, with a large bloody stamp that was used to hold the lip of the envelope down. A red seal surrounded the paper.

“Just open the message, follow the instructions, and do as they say. Otherwise, things will get worse for you!”

“Like what?” Ryan questioned, as he took the paper from the mardi gras masked man.

“You really don’t want to know, Mr. Kesler. Now, I have go, but you have your orders. I look forward to seeing you again soon!” The man with the mask started to walk off.

“Wait, who are you?” the Anaheim hockey player called out.

The man halted and spun around on his heels, rather quickly and sharply. “I can’t tell you. Just call me a friend!” He smirked again. This look was less than reassuring. It freaked him out.

“What if I don’t want to follow the instructions?” Ryan shot back.

“You really don’t want to do that, my friend, Mr. Kesler! Now, farewell!”

A black Charger zoomed by and the man hopped into the backseat, as a door was swung open for him. In a flash, the man and the car vanished out of the Honda Center parking lot and down the highway. Ryan watched, bewildered, listening to the screech of the tires and the roar of the engine.

After a few seconds, he turned his attention to the envelope in his fingers. He carefully opened it, afraid that something bad might pop out and attack him. Nothing did. It really was just a letter addressed to him.

He rapidly took in the message, frowning. “Dammit all, Getz! I just get here and you want to invite me to a private party already! Fine, I guess I’ll talk to Boudreau later and hang out with my new captain instead. You could have just texted me, but hey a cool, mysterious letter works too. Whatever, man.”

He walked to his own vehicle. What was a little excess learning about where places and things were in Anaheim? And with that thought in mind, Ryan Kesler backed out of the Honda Center and headed for a place known as Evon.