And Then There Was One

The group remained there, staring in horror at poor Valeri Nichushkin, or what was left of the innocent blue eyed kid, the latest victim to the psychotic killer loose in the house. Terrified, they eventually backed out of the kitchen and rejoined the two Blackhawks, who were curled up with one another.

And they weren’t a couple??

“Well?” Jonathan asked, stroking Patrick’s hair, calmly.

“It was Nichy.”

“Val?” the blonde Blackhawk squeaked.

“He chopped himself in half with a butcher’s knife!” Patrice reported, looking down. “I didn’t know Tyler meant that much to the poor guy!”

“He doesn’t! Someone here killed him, dumbass Bruin!” Sidney snapped.

“Sidney Crosby.”

“Where’s Drew?” Ryan Kesler’s voice piped up from somewhere within the group. His eyes were wide with horror, as he looked around.

Patrick, Jonathan, Ryan Getzlaf, Patrice Bergeron, and Sidney Crosby gazed around them. Sure enough, Drew Doughty was nowhere in sight. He hadn’t come down with them or he had disappeared.

“Where is he?” Ryan Getzlaf spoke, not wanting to get the answer. “What did you do to him Sidney Crosby?!”

“Nothing Getzlaf!” Sidney bit back.

Patrice silenced them both, before they ignited in another fight. He put his arms out, stepping in-between the two, bravely. “Everyone back upstairs to your rooms. We’re safer in the morning than we are at night. We can look for him in the morning. Heck maybe he’s fast asleep in his room!”

Little did he know how right he was. They ascended the staircase, heading back down the hallway. The bodies were piling up fast. And they figured in their rooms, they might be safer.

Ryan Kesler, whose room was right across from Drew’s, stopped and peered inside. He was curious and he wanted to answer the “where was Drew Doughty?” question. He gazed in and his eyes landed on the lifeless body, stretched across the bed at a weird angle. He knew this wasn’t a sleeping position and he freaked out.

“BERGY!!” He screamed to the appointed leader of the group.

Patrice instantly appeared at his door. He dashed down to where Ryan Kesler was. The Duck had his hands cupped over his mouth in horror. He finally lifted one arm out and pointed at the room. His arm shook. The Bruin followed his finger and spotted Drew’s body.

“What? How?”

“The killer must’ve killed him and got him before we found Val!”

Patrice walked in, with the frightened and shaking Kesler behind him. He found the empty bottle on the ground and picked it up.

“What is it?”

“Sleeping pills!” the Bruin hissed, reading the label.

“Sleeping pills? Did he take too many?”

“Oh man, he must have. Kes, get to your room at once. We’ll inform the others tomorrow about the death!”

“Alright.”

“Lock your door and don’t let anyone in.”

“I will.”

Ryan Kesler walked out, with a respectful dip of his head. He slipped into his room and Patrice heard the door close behind the Duck. The Bruin looked down at Drew and shook his head, somberly.

“You shouldn’t have died like this, Doughts…” He set the bottle on the bed beside Drew’s lifeless body.

Then he too, crept back out and dashed back into his room, slamming the door behind him.

Sidney slammed his door shut. He whirled around leaning against. He couldn’t keep up his charade anymore. Sure he acted like he didn’t gave a fuck or damn, but inside he did. He was terrified. No, scratch that, he was petrified!

He heaved a heavy sigh, trying to control his fears. He could see all of the murders happen. Every single one of them. Torey Krug as he was poisoned by the killer. He remembered seeing the masked bandit dressed in all black, as he leaned over and dumped a powder into his drink. Then he remembered seeing, in the light of a lightning strike, the same person, who clobbered Matt Cooke over the head. And then Reilly Smith as he was stabbed by the killer. Tyler Seguin getting dragged behind the grandfather clock.

Recently, he’d seen Val witness Drew’s murder and then get hypnotized. He knew that someone was killing people off and he knew that Val’s death was no accident. But he also knew who the killer was. He was the red herring!

However, there was also the manner of the killer’s threat to him. If he told the others, he would never get it all out. The threat remained there and he felt horrible about not being able to reveal the true killer’s self. It was eating him alive. He had to talk, he hated being the one who was blamed! He needed to tell the others, who it was!

He whipped around and gripped the handle, when a hand grabbed him by the shoulder, halting him in place. His blood ran cold.

“Where do you think you’re going, Sid?”

Sidney spun around, gazing at the person he recognized as the killer. The murderer. “I’m done hiding! I have to tell them! I’m sick of being blamed!”

“I can’t let you do that!”

“I’m gonna!”

“No you’re not!”

Sidney swatted the hand away and spun around for the door. He managed to get it open, but before he could bolt for it or scream, the person grabbed him over the mouth and pulled him backward with one hand. Sidney thrashed about madly, wildly.

The person shut the door once more, dragging the fighting Penguin back to the bed. He finally let Sidney go, shoving him onto the bed. The penguin landed on his stomach. He immediately pushed himself up, but the person brought the lamp across his head.

Sidney made an umph! noise and fell to the side, limp.

“Dumbass Penguin!” the man grunted, brushing himself off.

He turned and grabbed his equipment. The killer set a tall chair to the side of the bed and climbed on it, holding a long strand of rope. He stood up and looped one end around a board, tying a knot and securing it in place. The other end dangled down to about where the man’s waist was.

He jumped down, moving the chair was, instead he now moved another, smaller, shorter chair over and placed it below the rope. Then he grabbed the Penguin forward and lugged him over to the rope. He wrapped the free end around his neck, making sure it was snug, but in place and let Sidney stand on the chair.

The killer man returned to the bed, where he snatched up another rope and wound it around the Penguin captain’s wrists, pinning them behind his back. And when that was done, he rounded the victim to the front, standing before him.

Sidney snapped awake, finding himself in his predicament. He wobbled slightly, but caught himself. He felt the fear rising inside of him, the panic sinking in. He was going to be next! There was no telling the others.

The man lifted his foot and put it on the chair, so that if Sidney tried anything, he could simply lean forward, knock the chair back and the Pittsburgh Penguin would be history. But Sidney could see that the man hoped to wait a little bit.

“Here’s your story, Sid. You were so depressed that you were being labeled the murderer, so you committed suicide. You hung yourself. A tragic, tragic end to the once great Penguin leader!”

Sidney gulped nervously. But there was nothing he could do. He was doomed and he knew it. He didn't dare scream or do anything. He just closed his eyes tightly, shedding a tear, as the man leaned forward and knocked the chair back.

The rope tightened and Sidney Crosby was dead.

The man snickered and walked to the bed. He placed a sheet of paper on the end of the bed for the others when they found out. Then he exited the room, leaving the crime scene. He darted to his room, changed out of his murder outfit.