Dangeruss & Tazer

Jonathan and Russell made their way back to the Chicago captain’s house, where Patrick Sharp and Mike Rob were. They were both shaking their heads in frustration. They weren’t getting anywhere in their attempts to recover the lost clue they had gotten.

And as for the cop duo, they were no closer to solving anything and stopping the chaos in Chicago, than the FBI trying to track down the Zodiac Killer. It was a dead end and it was making the leader of the Blackhawks very nervous and emotional.

After hearing that there were no advances and that nothing was happening, Jonathan darted to his room and slammed the door shut. He bolted the lock in place and staggered into a desk chair that was seated by the window. He plopped down and dropped his head into his hands. He sobbed, letting loose a flood of emotional distress.

“I’m so sorry, Kaner! This is all my fault! If I had done something...if I had made a move...if I hadn’t turned my back on you at the bar that night!”

Thinking about it, he cried harder, drenching his soft fingers in tears. The room was pitch black, except for the dim light that shone from the outdoors, through the slots of his blinds. He had pulled those shut earlier.

“I could have prevented this! I could have stopped this!”

He finally managed to get control of his sadness and he lifted his head upward. He leaned back in the chair and stared into the distance. “I could have stopped this!” He repeated the phrase over and over, as he felt his vision blurring over. He was slipping into a reverie, and he was brought back to the incident at the bar.

****

Flashback #1 - June 10, 2010, The Night Following the Stanley Cup Final (Jonathan Toews’ Recreated Scene)

The Chicago Blackhawks had just pulled off the unbelievable. They had won the Stanley Cup. They had spent the whole night cheering and partying. But the celebration continued in the following days. On night number two, they went to the most popular bar in Downtown Chicago to celebrate.

Patrick Kane entered the bar, laughing so hard, that he thought he might pull a muscle or burst some important part of his body. Jonathan Toews had a hold of his arm. He was cracking up as well, but not as much.

Brent Seabrook and a few other Blackhawks from the 2010 squad followed behind. Brent was the one telling jokes. He broke out with one last one, "Hey, what do you call a Flyer with no wings? A downed Jet!" (A-ha-ha-ha...Seabs, you're sooooo funny!)

There was a chorus of laughter and Patrick Sharp slapped his friend on the shoulder. "That'll do, Seabs. That'll do." They were welcomed by cheers and cat calls, that came from all around the bar.

Patrick, the showman that he was, broke away from the group and bowed his head. “Thank you, thank you!”

Jonathan slapped him on the shoulder, playfully. “Knock it off, Kaner!”

The group of hockey players meandered over to the bar and sat down. They ordered their drinks and began the second evening of celebration. As they rotated through shots, Patrick felt himself becoming more and more eager. His vision transformed and he felt his heart race in his chest. He chugged a pint of beer and downed another shot, to the chant of, “To Patrick Kane, for his game winning goal!”

Around seven shots in, he got up from the bar seat, dragging Jonathan with him at the wrist. Jonathan could handle his alcohol a tiny bit better than his younger roommate could. The shaggy blonde haired man, less than graciously climbed onto the top of the table. He lost his balance a few times, falling back into Jonathan’s arms.

But he soon mustered his control and stripped off his black collared dress shirt that buttoned down the middle. He waved it around in the air, as he was passed a beer from an equally drunk female. He tipped the glass up and managed to slurp most of it into his mouth. The woman scrambled onto the table with him, grinding against the hockey player. He tossed the empty pint cup to the side, where it shattered on the ground into pieces.

“Kaner, I think that’s enough! Get down now!” Jonathan shouted, warning Patrick. He frowned, shaking his head.

The younger party hound ignored his friend and flung his shirt down into the kind gentleman’s hands instead. Jonathan caught his shirt and rolled his eyes, as the blonde Blackhawk grabbed the red-haired female in his arms and gave her a rather massive, sloppy, drunk kiss on the lips. The woman didn’t mind, even as the superstar shoved her backward, with disrespect, after releasing her mouth. She fainted into the arms of two other men below.

“Patrick Kane kissed me!” She screamed like a fangirl in the high pitched squeak and then sighed, drawing her hand lightly up to her forehead in the classic faint gesture.

She was ushered off, while Patrick, still shirtless, somehow got a stupid idea in his head to piss off some people. He scanned the bar, looking for a potential victim to target. He wanted to give someone a piece of his mind. But he saw no one. And he didn’t get the chance to look anymore, as Jonathan reached up and grabbed his friend by the arm.

“Come on, you’re creating a scene Kaner! You need to get down!” He yanked his friend’s arm, making him stumble down onto the ground. The blonde man tipped up his latest beer can, chugging more liquid down his throat, before the captain grabbed it and flung it to the side, near the other shattered glass.

“Johnny, but—I--!”

“But nothing, young man, come back to the bar with us.”

And the rest of the evening Patrick Kane remained with his friends, partying and having the time of his life, under surveillance of Jonathan Toews and the rest of his Chicago teammates.

But that wasn’t what had happened! Jonathan hadn’t made the move to try and get his teammate down. That was his first chance to change the outcome of the evening’s events and prevent the showdown between Patrick and Avery. Yet, he hadn’t moved. He allowed Patrick to remain on the tabletop, drunk off his ass.

Maybe, there was another chance he had. And sure enough there was. If only he hadn’t turned his back on his friend…he could’ve had his eye on him the whole time and stopped him. He started the scene over in his head, venturing a little bit more and attempting to revisit and see what have happened if he hadn’t turned his back.

****

Flashback #2 - June 10, 2010, The Night Following the Stanley Cup Final (Jonathan Toews’ Recreated Scene)

The Chicago Blackhawks had just pulled off the unbelievable. They had won the Stanley Cup. They had spent the whole night cheering and partying. But the celebration continued in the following days. On night number two, they went to the most popular bar in Downtown Chicago to celebrate.

Patrick Kane entered the bar, laughing so hard, that he thought he might pull a muscle or burst some important part of his body. Jonathan Toews had a hold of his arm. He was cracking up as well, but not as much.

Brent Seabrook and a few other Blackhawks from the 2010 squad followed behind. Brent was the one telling jokes. He broke out with one last one, "Hey, what do you call a Flyer with no wings? A downed Jet!" (A-ha-ha-ha...Seabs, you're sooooo funny!)

There was a chorus of laughter and Patrick Sharp slapped his friend on the shoulder. "That'll do, Seabs. That'll do." They were welcomed by cheers and cat calls, that came from all around the bar.

Patrick, the showman that he was, broke away from the group and bowed his head. “Thank you, thank you!”

Jonathan slapped him on the shoulder, playfully. “Knock it off, Kaner!”

The group of hockey players meandered over to the bar and sat down. They ordered their drinks and began the second evening of celebration. As they rotated through shots, Patrick felt himself becoming more and more eager. His vision transformed and he felt his heart race in his chest. He chugged a pint of beer and downed another shot, to the chant of, “To Patrick Kane, for his game winning goal!”

Around seven shots in, he got up from the bar seat, dragging Jonathan with him at the wrist. Jonathan could handle his alcohol a tiny bit better than his younger roommate could. The shaggy blonde haired man, less than graciously climbed onto the top of the table. He lost his balance a few times, falling back into Jonathan’s arms.

But he soon mustered his control and stripped off his black collared dress shirt that buttoned down the middle. He waved it around in the air, as he was passed a beer from an equally drunk female. He tipped the glass up and managed to slurp most of it into his mouth. The woman scrambled onto the table with him, grinding against the hockey player. He tossed the empty pint cup to the side, where it shattered on the ground into pieces.

“Kaner, I think that’s enough! Get down now!” Jonathan shouted, warning Patrick. He frowned, shaking his head.

The younger party hound ignored his friend and flung his shirt down into the kind gentleman’s hands instead. Jonathan caught his shirt and rolled his eyes, as the blonde Blackhawk grabbed the red-haired female in his arms and gave her a rather massive, sloppy, drunk kiss on the lips. The woman didn’t mind, even as the superstar shoved her backward, with disrespect, after releasing her mouth. She fainted into the arms of two other men below.

“Patrick Kane kissed me!” She screamed like a fangirl in the high pitched squeak and then sighed, drawing her hand lightly up to her forehead in the classic faint gesture.

She was ushered off, while Patrick, still shirtless somehow got a stupid idea in his head to piss off some people. He scanned the bar, looking for a potential victim to target. He wanted to give someone a piece of his mind. But he saw no one.

Jonathan Toews, remained focused on his friend, debating whether or not to pull him down off the table. He ultimately decided to let his friend be, but keep an eye on him. He had to get Patrick under control before something bad happened.

He noticed that Patrick, however, had spotted a large man, who he chose as the first target. He hopped off of the table and stumbled up to the man, who had a kind of dark colored villainous looking crew cut. His face was oval shaped and his brows were knit together like a mean guy. He wasn’t having any fun and this infuriated the drunk hockey player.

Jonathan prepared to make his move. He pushed his way forward through the crowd and quickly caught up to his best friend, halting him in place. The blonde haired man with a slight mullet turned to him, puzzled. “Kaner, where are you going?” He asked, attempting to lift his monotonic voice up, loud enough over the noise in the busy bar.

“I saw this guy, that guy, over there…he’s not having fun or partying! He looks like he needs to have a good time!” Patrick started forward, but Jonathan tightened his grip on his wrist, keeping him in place.

“That’s not a good idea, Kaner. Come back to the bar with the Blackhawks. Let him be. Do you really want to start a fight and be violent?” the brunette man questioned. “We won, you should be celebrating with your friends, come on!”

Patrick nodded. “You’re right, Johnny. Okay, let’s go back to the bar! See if Seabs has anymore jokes to tell?!”

“Right….”jokes,” whatever he calls ‘em!”

“I know they’re terrible aren’t they, but yet funny!”

“So funny!”

They laughed, as Patrick turned his back on his mission, forgetting about it. Jonathan put his arm around his friend’s shoulder and guided him; safely back to the main Blackhawk party. And they carried on laughing and having a good time, into the evening.

****

He slipped out of the reverie finally, returning to the darkness of his room. Jonathan Toews HAD turned his back and he HAD let Patrick Kane continue with his “party” and because of it, his friend had introduced himself to Sean Avery.

Jonathan wiped his eyes, shaking his head.

Now he began to think dark thoughts. He wasn’t positive that Patrick Kane was even still alive. Hope was gone, washed away in his tears. He gazed down at the carpet, covering his bedroom floor and sniffled. He sat there in the dark for a few more painful minutes, before he heard a soft knocking on his door.

“Hey, Tazer, it’s Russell...Dangeruss. Please, come back out here.”

Jonathan stared blankly at the door. He stood up on his shaky legs and wiped his eyes, as he walked over and unlocked the door. It opened at once and the hockey player found himself staring into the kind eyes of the Seattle Seahawks’.

“He’s not going to make it! He’s gone! We’ll never get him!” Jonathan wailed, breaking out once more, as he flung his arms around the football player.

“Hey, don’t talk like that. So we’ve hit a dead end. Doesn’t mean that Kaner’s necessarily gone.”

“But I could’ve stopped this! I could’ve prevented this shit from happening! I turned my back on him at the bar and he met Avery, but it didn’t need to happen!”

“We’re going to find him. And soon, I promise. All is not lost.”

“But if he is dead, I killed my best friend! Tazer killed Peekaboo, they’ll say!”

“Stop that!” Russell barked and slapped Jonathan across the face in frustration. “We WILL find him and soon and he WILL be alive and well!”

Jonathan sniffled, wiping his head once more. He silently nodded, as Russell took him by the shoulders and led him back into the main room.

“Come on, we’ll continue to try all we can!”