Lillian, Patrick and Fiyero all took their seats in the arena’s seats, behind the boards. A few seconds later they saw Tyler Marchand walk out of the home tunnel, his head held high and proud, a massive smile on his face. Any doubt that had been there for his health faded at once. He took a few warm up laps around the rink.

Tyler wasn’t being drafted, he was just a free agent...a person scouted by the local team to join the big dogs. He was a simple Nova Scotian born hockey player with dreams of winning the Stanley Cup, but he also had talent. Talent beyond his years. He was a stunning player and man. And that was what got him his scouting and his potential tryout.

He scooped up a puck at the center dot and zoomed forward toward the goal, warming up his shooting and accuracy shot. After a few moments, some other people came onto the ice. One of them looked like a younger version of Jonathan Toews. He had dark brown hair and a pair of gorgeous amber brown puppy eyes.

“Tyler Marchand,” a snowy haired man questioned.

Tyler spun from shooting, tapping a backhander slickly into the netting. He skated over and skidded to a halt before the group of men and the snowy haired guy.

The Jonathan Toews-looking man commented, “Sick talent there, kid.”

Tyler grinned. “Thanks.”

The snowy-haired man introduced himself and then the man. “I’m the coach of the Blackhawks, Mr. Julien Kucherov or Coach K. That’s the Blackhawk captain, Mr. Jonathan Getzlaf, and a few of the other players.”

“I’d know him anywhere,” Tyler remarked. “How could I live in Boston and not know him?”

“It comes with the face, right?” Jonathan remarked, jokingly. His teammates chirped him, but he maintained his stature. “And you’re one of the free agents trying out for the team, eh?”

Tyler dipped his head. But...what was this “one” of the free agents comment about? Who was the other.

“Today you and another player are going to go head-to-head and whoever fares better, gets the spot,” the coach stated. “You both are similar, but you’re a little more offensive minded. He has more toughness and grit. But we’ll see how you both fare. We like the talent, but you will have to toughen up some, Tyler.”

Tyler nodded. “Anything.”

“Then let’s get this started!” The veteran players and coach went to the bench, while another man walked down the tunnel and onto the ice.

He launched onto the ice and came to a halt before Tyler. The young man gasped at once, as the other man grinned devilishly at him. “How’s it been Marchy? I see you’re still alive and well.”

Tyler glanced to his friends, who were looking awkwardly at him. Lillian smacked Patrick on the arm and told him something, pointing at the man.

“Andrew!” Tyler spat, getting over the initial shock. “As if kicking your ass before wasn’t enough for you!”

“It’s a shame that the horny females couldn’t take care of you, eh?”

“What--what do you--?” Tyler stammered. Then he froze in place, staring at his old rival.

Andrew Campbell smirked. He glanced to the side and spotted Tyler’s friends and Lillian there. They all looked shocked. “Awe, are those your little friends, Tylie...and...oh my, is that little Lillian!”

“Fuck off Soupy!” Lillian screamed. “Mickey and Syd are gone, Tyler’s free and I’m not hurting him anymore!!”

“Feisty little bitch, ain’t she?” Andrew sneered.

Tyler shook his head. Fury was flowing through him. How did the bastard know Lilly? Unfortunately, he was about to find out.

Andrew continued, rounding Tyler like a shark now, as he slyly said, “Your kidnapping was no random act, Sydney and Mikayla are good friends of mine. And Syd’s my girlfriend.”

“You son of a bitch, Andrew!” Tyler shouted and cross-checked Andrew all of the sudden. He wasn’t one for fights, but Andrew was pissing him off.

Andrew shoved him back, easily knocking him backward off his skates. Tyler fell on the ice. His rival reached out and stuck his stick blade to the chin of Tyler. “Trying to beat me physically, are we? Oh Marchy, you’re pathetic. Maybe one of your little friends wants to take me on in a fight instead?” He spun around, keeping his stick jammed into Tyler’s chin. “Patrick Cleary? Fiyero Milan?”

Patrick stood up on his feet and raised a fist, boiling with anger. But he was grabbed and flung back into his seat by his captain, who scolded him with a sharp “no.”

On the ice, Tyler swatted the blade away and scrambled to his skates. He snatched his stick up and zoomed to the puck pile. Andrew whirled back around to see him streak down the ice and send a wicked slapshot at the net. “Send the goalie in and let me score on him!”

“You gonna pull those cute fancy ass fag moves, Tyler?” Andrew questioned.

“No, I’m not.” Tyler skidded to a halt at the pile once more. He flipped his stick around in his hands skillfully and then leaned on the blade.

“That’s all you’re good at, aren’t ya, Princess?” Andrew chirped, spitting on the ice to the side.

“Hey Soupy, instead of chirping me like a sore ass loser of a goon, maybe shut up and beat me in a fair shootout. You beat me, you get to be in the NHL and have all the bragging rights, but if I win - again - you leave me the hell alone and I never see your face again! Fair?”

“Fine. And if I win, well, we’ll come up with something good, maybe I get to have a turn at fucking you up!”

“Deal.” Tyler scooped up the chosen puck and sent a smooth, accurate saucer across to his rival, who caught it in his blade.

In the crease, the Blackhawks’ goalie, only known as “Scooby,” was feeling out the small space before the goal. He finally stopped and lowered into place. Andrew laughed and then shot forward. He cradled the puck in his blade professionally and then faked the goalie out, but was stopped by Scooby’s stick. He slammed into the boards hard and let out a frustrating cuss word.

Tyler cracked his neck and then scooped a puck up himself. He shot forward, as Andrew returned to get a second puck for himself. The young man pulled a few moves and then fooled the goalie, who came out to stick the puck away, but at the last minute, like a magnet, Tyler managed to pull back and deke him, lifting the disk up and over and into the back of the net.

Cheering came and as Tyler rounded the goal, he saw the Blackhawks players and staff with smiles on their places. He nodded to them and caught Jonathan whispering, “We need him for shootouts and to bring some offense. Sure the other one’s tough and got grit, but we need offense!”

Andrew released a grunt and darted forward. He pulled the same move and was again stifled. He slammed his stick into the boards in anger. Tyler took his turn and this time did a sweet spin-o-rama move and sent a backhander into the goal. The goalie, Scooby, was stunned. He’d only witnessed these moves from superstar players in the past, like Patrick Kane and Jonathan Toews, among others. 

Andrew failed a third time and Tyler was finally stopped, after he messed up on a pass. But he won the shootout - again - against Andrew “Soupy” Campbell. However, there were two more drills that the staff wanted to put them through. The first one, involved passing with lines. The players and the captain who’d come out got involved now.

Jonathan Getzlaf teamed up with Tyler and another guy named “Smitty”. They went through the drill first, complete with defenders this time. Tyler fared well again. At one point Jonathan set him up for a breakaway chance and Tyler scored with another sickly accurate backhander. Andrew struggled.

At the end, Tyler and Andrew lined up at the blue line once more. A set of defenders - two of Boston’s best - lined up in their spots. Andrew went first and rammed his big body into the defender. He lost the puck in the process and instead both got tangled up in a scrap. Tyler watched, shaking his head.

He had this.

Andrew was so egotistical. And he was a sore loser. He won his fight though, putting the defender down on the ice. While Andrew recovered, Tyler took his shot. He crossed into the zone and went around toward the boards, the defender chasing him. The guy stole the puck from him, but Tyler wasn’t deterred, he took it back and swooped around like an eagle, taking the puck flying against the blade of his stick and flipped it into the net, slamming his stick against the side crossbar in the process. It shattered into pieces, but that was enough.

The coach had seen enough. He came and stood at center ice. “I’ve seen enough, the answer is obvious! Tyler Marchand will be signed to the entry deal with the Boston Blackhawks!!”

“Yeah, Marchy!” Lillian screamed, with Patrick and Fiyero. “Go Tyler!”

Tyler shook the coaches hand and was so excited. He had done it! He had beat Andrew again, easily, and he was a Blackhawk!! He was going to be in the NHL!!

But....

Andrew Campbell was a sore loser.

The furious man zoomed over, tossing his stick to the side. He picked Tyler up like he was as light as a feather and slammed him into the boards. The coach snapped his fingers and all the Boston players came to Tyler’s aid. But by the time they got there, Andrew had landed a devastating punch to the young man’s face. Three Blackhawks grabbed Andrew and dragged him away. Tyler slumped on the ice, bleeding heavily.

Jonathan dropped down to him and helped to remove his helmet. “Nicky, get him some medical help. He’s bleeding big time!” And he was. There was a big pool of blood on the ice, where his head hung over. And spurts of crimson had stained the ice to the side. “From now on, we have your back, Marchy. No one will get away with hurting you. The moment you’re a Blackhawk, you’re apart of the family.”

Tyler glanced up, wincing with pain. “Thanks.”

“We’ll have to get ya lessons with fighting and holding your own though. But you have so much potential and you are NHL ready. Welcome to the team, Tyler.”

“Nicky” returned with a cloth and passed it to Tyler, who began to clean himself. He was fine. He hated Andrew, but he was fine. And with Jonathan and the Blackhawks’ help, he was cleaned up and back on his skates. Andrew was shoved down the tunnel and chirped by some (or three) of the team’s toughest players (which was equivalent to the Blackhawks team in Chicago with maybe Andrew Shaw, Adam Burish and Patrice Bergeron).

They blocked his re-entry, having Tyler’s back.

And that’s how Tyler Marchand of Nova Scotia became a Boston Blackhawk!