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DaftRaincloud · 11-17-2019, 07:21 AM

(2931 Words. 2x Draft Media)

Chapter One

Chad checked his Rolex. It was 11:57. Jeff was supposed to be here by now. His hand hovered over the door handle, beyond which laid a room full of large desks atop which rested multiple phones. The work station of the wheelers and dealers of the SHL. In three minutes the first team would be on the clock deciding which of the young players that had been eligible to be drafted to play in the SHL would be stuck on their team for the next three seasons at the least. What a funny dichotomy, the old and worn down out of shape executives lording over the young elite athletes of the world.

Maybe I should just go in without him, Chad thought.
“Sorry I’m late.”
Chad looked back over his left shoulder and saw Jeff Kirkstone, his boss, the general manager of the San Francisco Pride, walking towards him with his dark brown leather briefcase swinging to and fro in his right hand.
“Brought this for ya.” Jeff passed Chad a latte that he had picked up at one of the hundreds of coffee stands that filled every street corner.
“Thanks.” Chad opened the door, allowing Jeff to walk in before him. Chad and Jeff walked down the carpeted aisle beset on both sides by the humming of trade discussions and the latest sports gossip.

The two men came to the large dark mahogany desk. Jeff motioned to the office chair on the right side of the desk and Chad took his seat.
“You first,” Kirkstone motioned to Johnson.
Chad sat for a moment before what Jeff was asking of him clicked in his head.
“Oh! Right.” Chad sat up and forward a bit in his chair to retrieve the small pocket sized notepad from his right rear pants pocket. “Alright, I really think we have to get this guy Petrenko. Great performance during the season, fits perfectly within our system. The coach is in love with this guy.” Chad sat the notepad down on the desk and passed across a sheet of paper that he had neatly folded in the breast pocket of his jacket. On it was a photo of Petrenko, a list of his stats from the season, his measurements, and combine results.
“Wow, this kid looks promising-“ Jeff continued talking but the vibration in Chad’s front pocket distracted him from what his boss was saying.
Probably my loser son again, Chad thought. When will he get the hint?
But his phone vibrated for the second time. Not a text, a phone call. Chad didn’t get many calls. In fact those who knew him knew that he preferred texting almost exclusively. “If it’s not an emergency, a text will do” Chad always said.
“-I’m sorry, do you mind if I step out for a second?” Chad cut off his mentor.
“Oh.” Jeff paused for a moment, clearly taken aback. “Uh, sure. Go right ahead.”

Chad stood up from the desk. His phone buzzed for what was now the third time. He rushed his way down the aisle and back out the double doors to the lobby of the expo center that the draft was being hosted in.
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. No caller id. Blocked number.
Chad accepted the call and pulled the phone up to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Agent Johnson? It’s the President.”

Chaper Two

“What do you need Mister President?” Chad spoke in a hushed tone. The passerbys surely weren’t paying attention to his conversation anyways, but discretion was always the best practice.
“No, the President has been kidnapped?”
Chad perked up. He had heard rumors in the underground networks that the Canadians were planning something like this, but he had chalked it up to baseless rumor. “Why are you calling me? You know I’ve been out of the game for years now.”
“Agent Johnson, the President is there. The Canadians are planning on executing him live on stage during the twelfth pick of the draft.”
Chad’s heart stopped in his chest.
“The twelfth pick.. That’s my pick.”
Chad hung up the phone. He ran from the lobby and burst out onto the sidewalk. He sprinted down towards the parking garage, pushing people aside as he went. He checked his watch. It was 12:01. The draft had started.

Chad ran up the ramp to the second level of the parking garage. Just ahead he saw his car, an immaculate midnight black Bugatti Veyron. As he ran to the driver’s side door he withdrew the key fob from his pocket and unlocked the vehicle.
I’m sorry, Bugatti. Chad withdrew the pocket knife from his pocket, flicked it open with a swift move of his wrist, and dug the blade into the upholstered side door panel. He dug through the fabric and foam with his razor sharp blade until he reached the emergency button that he had hidden inside. He pressed it. A concealed compartment along the side of the vehicle sprung open and within there was a compact AR-15 carbine and two 9MM Glocks. Chad withdrew the weapons, stashed them on his person, and closed the compartment again.

Chad checked his watch again. 12:05. The first pick would be done now, eleven more and the President would be killed on national television.

Chapter Three

Chad stood in the lobby. The cold steel of the pistols on both hips concealed under his dress suit pressed into his skin. The weight of the rifle slung around his neck concealed behind the back of his jacket hung heavy.
I guess I’m back at work.
On the far side of the lobby there was a door marked ‘Maintenance Workers Only.’ That was a good bet. Chad slowly pushed the door open. Behind it was a dingy dimly lit staircase leading down into darkness. Only the sight of the steps as they disappeared into the blackness met Chad. He took the first step. He almost lost traction as his shiny black leather dress shoes touched down on the cement step. There was a small layer of water that had stagnated on the surface of the step and some moss was starting to form between the cracks in the cement.

Chad slowly pulled the rifle from behind his back and readied it in front of him. He clicked on the flashlight attached on the side rail of the rifle with a switch on the right side of the grip. The stairs in front of him were illuminated, and Chad could see the landing at the bottom of the stairs. It looked like some sort of maintenance area with a furnace, some power tools, a mop, and multiple industrial generators. He scanned the area, letting his light wash over every surface. A curious odor struck Chad’s nostrils. He sniffed again. It was sweet, almost like candy. He took a deep breath. Syrup?

At that moment Chad felt a hand grip his left shoulder and a shooting pain came through the right side of his body. He spun and raised the rifle. The light illuminated the face of an assailant brandishing a knife, a knife red with Chad’s blood. The assailant swung the knife again, and Chad evaded backwards. With his offhand the assailant took control of the barrel of Chad’s rifle and moved it aside, again he stabbed forward with his knife but Chad caught the assailant’s wrist with his hand not currently trying to retain control of the grip of his rifle and moved the blade aside and out of harm’s way. Both men had both of their hand’s tied up, but Chad was the first to react with his feet. He planted a firm kick into the assailant’s chest with his right foot and sent the man crumbling back against the moist basement wall.

Chad quickly moved forward before the man could recover and placed his right foot down onto his groin. He leveled the rifle with the man’s head.
“Where is the President?”
“Fuck you, American pig! I’ll never tell!” The Canadian assassin spit into Chad’s eyes. “Sorry about that.”
Chad slammed the butt of the rifle into his head, rendering him unconscious.
Shit.
Chad checked the time. 12:15. Pick four would be announced any minute.

Chapter Four

“Where is he?” Kirkstone was asking, pleading with his intern to give him any information at all about where his new co-gm had gone.
“I-I don’t know sir.” The young intern stammered.
“Useless!” Jeff Kirkstone slung his large ham hock of a hand across the intern’s face, sending them to the ground. After he recovered he scampered out away from the desk and out of the room. Decades later Jeff would find that same former intern working behind the counter of a corner deli. Kirkstone wouldn’t recognize the intern, but the intern would recognize him. And he would spit into the sandwich Jeff ordered before serving it to him. Jeff would contract a viral infection from the saliva and require surgery to fix it.

Jeff pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed up Chad’s number. A photo of Chad posing in front of a gym mirror flexing popped up along with his name. Chad had personally set that as his contact photo in Jeff’s phone. The call went straight to voicemail.
“Damn it!” Kirkstone exclaimed. He hurled his cell phone into the ground, shattering it into a million pieces of plastic and glass and electronics.

“Intern!” Another young intern, but one that was different from the last, quickly ran to the desk to assist Mr. Kirkstone. “I need another phone.”
The intern’s hand trembled as he reached into his pocket and withdrew his own personal cell phone and handed it across to Jeff. “Y-Yes sir.”
“Thanks son. By the way, you’re fired. Pack your shit and get out.”
As the intern walked away he thought about what would happen if he ever faced Jeff Kirkstone again. Months later he would have the opportunity. While parked at a red light the intern would see Jeff walk across the crosswalk in front of him. The only person, in fact, to walk across it. It would have been so easy at that moment for him to speed forward. To ram his car into the man that had made his life a living hell working in the corporate world for years. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He would drive home and cry in the shower.

Chapter Five

As Chad stepped away from the unconscious body of the man who had tried to kill him just moments before he was suddenly blinded by a light turning on at the end of the room. He raised his hand to cover his face and shield himself from the light. He stood watching it for a moment. There were no silhouettes or shadows disrupting the constant stream of light. In fact, it almost looked like a light bulb. Like a headlight..

The engine revved. Not the deep bass filled revving of a car engine, but the high pitched squeal of a dirt bike. Th engine revved again and the light started coming towards Chad at high speed. He raised his rifle and squeezed the trigger twice before having to roll to the side and out of harm’s way as the bike came right at him. Chad recovered from his roll and got up to his knee and readied the rifle. He fired two more shots, now towards the red tail light of the dirt bike, but as he did so what he thought was a wall but was in fact a large hanger door opened up and the bike rode through the door and into an illuminated underground airplane hangar.

Jeff ran towards the hangar. Two men wearing burgundy ski masks and wielding AK-47s came around either side of the opening and began to fire towards Chad. Chad fired back as he continued to sprint forward, and with two perfectly placed head shots the men fell to the ground.

As Chad ran past their bodies and into the wide open hangar he saw the dirt bike skid to a halt in the empty middle of the room. He raised his rifle at the now identifiable rider, a female wearing a black leather motorcycle jacket and a chrome helmet. Nowhere to run.

“Agent Johnson.” The voice boomed out and filled the room as if it was coming from giant speakers. The voice was familiar, but Chad couldn’t place it. “You’ve come right into my trap.”
“I’m just here to get the President.”
The woman reached up and gripped the shiny metal helmet from her head and lifted it off. It was Violetta, Johnson’s first love and the mother of his son, Gabriel Johnson.
“Violetta, you’re..”
“-Working for the Canadians, yes.” She raised her right hand and as if it was signaled to happen doors on both sides of the room opened up. Ten soldiers, five on either side of Chad, armed with rifles stepped through the now open doorways.
“Why would you do that?”
“It’s just business, Chad. You left me high and dry and they offered me a new start.”
“So you kidnap the President and let them kill him?”
“A woman’s gotta do what she’s gotta do. Drop the gun.”

The soldiers on both sides of Chad raised their guns in a threatening manner. Chad let his hand hover in the air holding out the rifle for a moment before dropping it to the ground.
“All the guns.” Violetta asserted.
Chad reached behind his back and withdrew the two pistols before also tossing them to the hangar floor.
Violetta reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a thin device with a large red button on one end of it. She pressed the button and the floor began to rumble and shake as a large door in the floor opened up and a missile slowly raised from beneath the floor.

“No!” Chad yelled out. He could see that strapped to the missile with a large rope was the President of the United States of America.
“Yes, Chad! When I press this button again this missile and the President it’s carrying will be sent directly into the White House. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me!” She began to laugh maniacally and the soldiers in the hangar followed suit.
“I’m sorry, Violetta, but there’s twenty minutes until I need to draft a hockey player.” Chad lifted his wrist and looked at the face of his Rolex.
I’ll miss you, old buddy. He pressed the middle of the three buttons adorning the side of his wrist watch. “And I’m running out of time.” He unlatched the watch from his wrist and tossed it towards his ex-wife. As it reached her the watch exploded into a fireball, the force of which sent Violetta flying back through the air while simultaneously being engulfed in flames. The soldiers opened fire as Chad dropped to his stomach. In each hand he grabbed one of the pistols he had dropped and fired out five rounds from each pistol. Chad got to his feet, the soldiers were down. Five shots, five kills.

“Let’s get you down, Mister President!” Chad climbed the side of the missile and undid the rope securing the President to it’s metallic surface.
“I can’t thank you enough, Agent Johnson.” The President shook his hand. “I’m your biggest fan.”
“Thank you Mister President, I get that a lot. And please, call me Chad.” The two men laughed a deep belly laugh.
“Your son must be very proud of you,” he hesitated for a moment, wanting to call him Agent Johnson. “Chad.”
“He is very proud of me, but I don’t feel the same way about him.”
“Makes sense to me!” The President and Chad laughed as the two men exited the hangar and ascended the stairs back up through the maintenance door and into the lobby of the expo center. As they did so Chad pulled his phone from his pocket, and clicked on icon showing the 191 unread text messages from his son. He finally texted Gabe back.
Killed your mom.

The two men stood in the lobby, shaking hands for minutes straight. Chad looked up at the clock, it was almost time.
“Well, Mister President, I have a draft to attend to.”
“You’re an American hero, Chad. I hope you know that.”
“Oh trust me, I do.” Chad winked as he walked back through the double doors and into the draft room.

Chapter Six

“Where have you been?!” Jeff exclaimed as Chad came back to the table.
“Sorry, I was in the bathroom.” Chad replied.
“Well, it’s our pick, what do we do?”
Chad grabbed the official draft slip from the desk and with his twenty-four karat gold fountain pen with ink made from the ink of nearly extinct squid he wrote
Alex Petrenko - Defenseman - Anaheim Outlaws on the card.

Chad got up and took the card to the waiting commissioner waiting patiently at the stage.
“I was afraid you weren’t going to make it in time,” the commissioner leaned forward, “Agent Johnson.” And he gave Chad a knowing nod. Chad nodded back, a sign of respect between two hardened and seasoned field agents. Chad made his way back to the San Francisco Pride desk and sat down next to his boss, Jeff Kirkstone.

The commissioner looked at the card for a second before stepping up to the microphone.
“With the twelfth pick in the S51 SHL draft the San Francisco Pride select Alex Petrenko, defenseman, from the Anaheim Outlaws.”

***Gwdjohnson*** · 11-17-2019, 11:47 AM

This is incredible

*Ferda* · 11-17-2019, 11:55 AM

OCHOOOOOOCINCOOOOOOOOOOOO

Grapehead · 11-17-2019, 12:52 PM

Well now you have to keep this going!

DaftRaincloud · 11-18-2019, 12:06 AM

11-17-2019, 12:52 PMGrapehead Wrote: Well now you have to keep this going!

When I'm in this frame of mind again I'll try my best! Hope you dont mind how I painted your character.

***Acsolap*** · 11-18-2019, 03:20 AM

Phenomenal. Should really be mandatory reading on the site. Imagine reading iihf roster announcements and not this.

Credit to Ml002, King, Wasty, Carpy, Bruins10, Rum_Ham, Turd Ferguson, Ragnar and Enigmatic for the sigs.
Forge

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***Gwdjohnson*** · 11-18-2019, 08:28 AM

11-18-2019, 03:20 AMAcsolap Wrote: Phenomenal. Should really be mandatory reading on the site. Imagine reading iihf roster announcements and not this.

Listen here asshole I put a lot of effort into listing stats off the index for my roster announcement.

***golden_apricot*** · 11-18-2019, 08:30 AM

11-18-2019, 08:28 AMGwdjohnson Wrote:
11-18-2019, 03:20 AMAcsolap Wrote: Phenomenal. Should really be mandatory reading on the site. Imagine reading iihf roster announcements and not this.

Listen here asshole I put a lot of effort into listing stats off the index for my roster announcement.

No one reads those but they are a great way to make easy cash so im all about it.

***Gwdjohnson*** · 11-18-2019, 09:08 AM

11-18-2019, 08:30 AMgolden_apricot Wrote:
11-18-2019, 08:28 AMGwdjohnson Wrote: Listen here asshole I put a lot of effort into listing stats off the index for my roster announcement.

No one reads those but they are a great way to make easy cash so im all about it.

DaftRaincloud · 11-18-2019, 04:19 PM

11-18-2019, 03:20 AMAcsolap Wrote: Phenomenal. Should really be mandatory reading on the site. Imagine reading iihf roster announcements and not this.