Peekaboo

The Blackhawks walked up to the small shack, gazing around…it was three princes and a dog. Patrick swung open the door. At once they all froze in place, their eyes were wide open and they gasped. The place was filled with hardcore biker-looking thugs. Ones who were capable of stealing and possibly beating up clueless trespassers and there was even one with a hook for a hand.

Patrick lifted his hockey stick and pointed it at all bikers within a 3-foot radius. He spun around in a circle, bravely taking in everyone there, daring them to come at him.

Sharp smiled to himself and forced his teammates and friends to walk in more. He didn’t seem so scared. "You smell that? Take a deep breath through the nose." He inhaled through his nose very loudly. "Really let that seep in. What are you getting? Because to me, it's part man smell and the other part is really bad man smell. I don't know why, but overall, it just smells like the color brown. Your thoughts, Kaner?"

Before Patrick Kane could make it any farther into the place, he was grabbed by one of the biker men. He let out a yelp and dropped his stick on the ground, where it clattered noisily. He began to sniff Patrick, who remained still and motionless in his grasp.

“You’re not from around here are you?”

“No.”

He made an awful gurgling noise with his throat and turned his head to the side, spitting on the ground. “What are you doing here, prince?”

Sharp stepped forward. “I’ll answer that, but first, you have to let him go.”

The goon guy released Patrick, who snatched his stick up and whirled around once more, pointing it at him. Sharp shook his head. He then got an idea. "Is that blood in your mustache? Kaner, Saader, look at this! Look at all the blood in his mustache! Geez, good sir, that's a lot of blood."

“Sharpie…” Brandon stammered, his expression in fear. Andrew stood at his feet, but he was snarling, showing his canines and glancing around, as though ready to attack.

"Listen, we’re on a quest from the Kingdom of Avondale."

“Kingdom…what do those rich scoundrels want?”

“The Kingdom is in terrible danger and one of our friends is missing. He was carried off by a Dragon, who we think is owned by the notorious Lord Nemo!”

The man’s gaze softened a little. He shifted his sitting position, now leaning backward against the table. “And who are you all?”

“The name’s Patrick Sharp, this is Brandon Saad and the one with the stick is Patrick Kane.”
Suddenly the biker man stood up, looming over them. But his gaze softened more and he cocked his head to the side. “Patrick Kane, eh?”

Patrick backed away from the biker and Sharp, Brandon, and Andrew. He bumped into another biker sitting at the bar. He growled at the blonde man. He tensed up and whipped around and pointed the hockey stick towards him.

Sharp started walking towards his panicked and tense teammate, as he was clearly okay with all of this, as opposed to his younger teammate. "Hey. You don't look so good, Kaner. Calm down, buddy, these guys aren’t going to hurt you…they are big, mean-looking sweethearts." He grabbed Patrick, easing the stick down.

“M-maybe we should just find a different place to eat…” Brandon stuttered, flicking his gaze in different directions, as he saw the goons standing up and cracking their knuckles, menacingly.
These weren’t sweethearts…they were out to hurt and possibly kill…!

But as they were about to leave, a huge biker slammed the door shut, making the four jump back. His big meaty hand rested on the wood of the door. On the door was another of those ‘Wanted’ posters, Patrick had seen when he had first arrived here.

“Tyler Seguin!” Patrick gasped, reading the name of the thief.

Brandon, Andrew and Sharp looked at him. His bravery was coming back. He clutched his stick in his hands. If Tyler was here, maybe he might be able to help them out. He had no idea why Tyler was wanted and labeled a thief, but he knew the man and he was a dear friend. He couldn’t possibly be evil?

“What about Seguin?” the goon man growled, stomping his foot and took a threatening step toward the blonde man. “You know him?”

Patrick nodded, biting his lip. He twirled his hockey stick in his hand. “I do.”

“He must be a friend or something! I say, grab him and interrogate him for information!”

“Oh he’s a friend, alright. Greno, go find the boss!" Then he grabbed Patrick by his blue shirt and easily knocked the hockey stick sword weapon away once more. It fell into the hands of a shocked Brandon. "That reward is gonna buy me a new hook." Patrick's eyes widened when his hook was extremely close to his face. But he was grabbed by another big biker guy, behind the bar, who snatched his arm and pulled him away from the door and his friends.

"I could use the money!" Then the biggest biker grabbed him now. He must have been seven feet tall like Andre the Giant.

"What about me? I'm broke!" Then all of a sudden all the bikers crowded around him, yelling their protests.

"Get back!"

"Mine!"

"Let Go!"

"Give him here!"

Sharp was behind all the bikers, worried now. Brandon and Andrew were by his side. "Please, stop! He doesn’t know where Seguin is! Don’t break our winger!" The entire bar was in a brawl, almost tearing Patrick, limb from limb.

"Hey! I don’t know where Tyler Seguin is!" Patrick shouted trying to get them to let go of him.

"Hey, leave him alone!" Brandon tried to reach out for his teammate, but still hadn't gotten past the bikers. Patrick made another attempt at talking them out of it. Why was Tyler so hated here? What had he done? And moreover where was he? Could he help them out?

"Give us back our winger, you goons!"

They finally had a good grip on Patrick and even though he was squirming around, he couldn't get free of their grasp. The biker with the hook was raising his fist in the air, ready to knock him out. Brandon raised the silver stick in his hands and brought it up over his head, ready to strike the hook man. Patrick was still wiggling, but nothing was working.

"Not the face! Not the mullet!" He screamed with a worried face. Finally, Brandon dropped his arm and swung downward, hitting the hooked biker in the head. The whole bar fell silent and looked at the man who resembled Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid, even Patrick was staring at him in shock as well.

"Put him down!" He yelled at the top of his lungs, with Sharp and Andrew at his side, backing him up. The hooked biker looked over to him with shock now. Brandon let out a quick sigh of relief finally getting their attention. "Okay, we don't know where we are, but we need him," he pointed at Patrick with the stick-sword. "…to take us to rescue our team captain. We are really from the real world, from Chicago, Illinois and we are hockey players for the NHL." He explained in one breath.

“NHL?” Hook guy questioned.

"Find your humanity! We just want to complete our mission and get going, out of here." The hooked biker took out his gun and started to walk towards Brandon. The tallest biker put Patrick down on the ground. The blonde man brushed himself off. The hooked biker was pretty close to Brandon, but wasn't pointing the gun at him. Brandon held his ground.

Suddenly the door to the pub swung open. A man walked in, halting the process of the hooked man and the others. Everyone turned to see a small black and white honey badger in the doorway. He had boots on his hind paws, standing up on them. Around his furry waist, was a thin belt, where a sword was.

There was a collective gasp and all the goon man fled, leaving the trio alone. Patrick walked back up, taking his stick back from Brandon and thanking him. They stared at the animal, as he stepped in, making the floor creak and groan under his boot-covered paws. He came to a halt before them and gazed upward.

“Did I hear you were looking for Tyler Seguin?” the honey badger asked.

“Yeah…” Sharp muttered.

“The name is Brad Marchand,” the creature stated, bowing.

“Wait, the Boston Bruin pest?” Andrew questioned, dropping his head and sniffing the badger, only to receive a claw to the nose.

“You really want to kick-start the rival again, Shawzy?” Brad hissed, rolling his eyes.

Andrew shook his head, trying to recover from the hit. He sat back on his haunches and shook his head, eventually, lifting his paw up to try and touch his nose, which stung.

“You know where Tyler is?” Patrick asked.

“I do, Blondie,” the Bruin pest snarkily responded, putting his paws on his “hips.”

“Can we see him?” Brandon asked, getting to the point.

The animal turned to the Blackhawk. “I can. There are things you must know. And I overheard you saying how you are on a mission. Yes, I will take you to Tyler Seguin!” He then took a step back and addressed the entire pub. “Only these guys follow me. If I catch anyone else, I won’t hesitate to use my claws, teeth, or sword!”

Then he nodded to the door, waddling out in the boots. Patrick turned to his posse and they walked back out of The Unlucky Sheep. They collected Adam, who wasn’t happy at all. But he had found an apple and gulped it down. Sharp untied the reins from the horse holder, to Adam’s teasing comment to the other horses there, “I’d love to stay and chat ladies, but as you can see, I’m a wanted horse. But don’t worry, there’s enough of Adam Burish to go around later on.”

He winked to one of the female horses, that appeared to sigh and wink back at him. She was a gorgeous, chestnut brown color Clydesdale. She let off a whinny. Sharp rolled his eyes, as he yanked the reins for his friend, turning him around and leading him off.

“Who’s your little friend?” Sharp asked, as he hopped back aboard his pal.

“Annabella.”

And with that, they followed the honey badger named Brad Marchand into the woods once more, heading toward Tyler Seguin’s hideout.