Everyone looks toward the stick in silence, until Marty slowly bends down and picks it up. "A hockey stick?" Marty questions, as he picks it up, much to Vladdy's disgust. "What's so special about it? It's just a hockey stick."

"Not just any hockey stick, Marty. It's a magical one that transforms into a lightning bolt. And the best part is, only one Lightning player can activate it and I have him." Drouin cackles wickedly, gripping firmly onto Vladdy. "Right here."

"The little blond kid?" Marty questions.

Drouin snorts with laughter and spits on the ground, before he responds with, "Yeah, shocking isn't it. I mean you'd never think that this guy would be so important, right? And yet he is. Funny, the Lightning are."

"Drouin..." Vladdy growls.

"I mean look at him, he tries to be brave and fight back, but he just loses...and he's just s' cute," Drouin continues to demean his Russian hostage.

"Alright, now you're just being mean," Vladdy says with a slight groan. "And that's not something one man should say to another. It's just creepy."

"Where are the others? Where's Stralsy, Sus and Stammer? Vladdy, what happened?" Tyler demands to know.

"I knocked them out, of course!" Drouin sneers. "Brave little Vladdy tried to call his stick, but was too late by the time I stopped him."

"You liar, Jo!" Vladdy snarls. "You told them to head back to Amalie to get help and they trusted you and listened to you! For once, I didn't agree and tried to talk them out of it, but you've got some kind of telepathic superpower or mind control powers!"

"Oh no, they trusted you! They trusted you and that frickin' stick to handle things and help TJ out if necessary. But they forgot one thing: I'm an evil genius!" Drouin declares. "I don't need superpowers, I've got my brain! Something you Russians, Czechs, Swedes and Canadians all do NOT have."

"Yeah, you're a Canadian, Jo," Tyler remarks.

"As am I!" the ex-Lightning player adds on. "You'd best watch your mouth, Drouin. But good work following my orders. You're an excellent assistant!" Marty tilts the hockey stick in his hand, looking at it, while he keeps the gun trained on Tyler. After studying it for a good while, he looks up at Vladdy, who suddenly freezes in his struggling.

"Marty, whatever you are thinking, don't do it. It's not a good idea," Vladdy stammers.

"Oh, relax, all you're gonna do is activate your stick, 'Yzerchuk' here and kill Tyler Johnson and then also Pally and Kuch and then let us kill you," Marty slyly says. "That's all. It'll be fast and easy and probably less messier than me shooting everyone. A lot less blood to deal with, you know."

"I'm not killing anyone, Marty! I'll never hurt my friends. You can't make me activate Yzerchuk!" Vladdy vows.

Marty stalks toward him and, while still keeping the gun on Tyler, who is stuck in place from his fear and shock, jabs Yzerchuk at Vladdy, pressing the tip of the blade to his chin. "I think you will. I mean, otherwise, I can just break this hockey stick, you know."

Vladdy gasps. "You wouldn't!?"

"I would. Try me." He shoves the stick at Drouin and Vladdy, who both grab onto it.

"Go on, say it, Russian Bieber!" Drouin snarls at the blond man.

"Not so fast, Marty!" Stamkos' voice booms out.

Everyone looks to the archway entrance, where Steven Stamkos stands with a clenched fist.

"Stammer!" Marty gasps.

Stamkos stomps forward, glaring Marty down as he angrily says, "It's a good thing I listened to my gut, Drouin! Stralsy and Sus went to get help, but I felt odd halfway back. As I passed under the highway, I knew that I needed to turn around and come back. My gut told me that Drouin was up to something and sure enough, he was. Let Vladdy go and give him back Yzerchuk and, while you are at it, let the Triplets go too!"

"Or what?" Drouin backtalks.

"Or else, I can just call in my cop friends, who are sitting in the parking lot. I'm sure they'd like a tour of your car, Marty and I don't think that you holding Vladdy hostage like that will look very good either. Yeah...so, it's your choice."

"You're bluffing Stammer!" Marty snaps.

"Also that gun doesn't look sketchy either..." Stamkos continues to say. "And you can try me, Marty." He starts to step back and leans back, looking to the side. "He's not cooperating with me, guys."

Marty lowers the gun and stuffs it out of sight. Tyler finally relaxes and rushes over to join Palat and the unconscious Kucherov on the ground. As he drops down, Kucherov finally blinks awake and the three share a close friendship hug.

Stamkos holds his hand up in a 'halting' signal and then looks at Marty, folding his arms. "Good choice, Marty."

"Come on Drouin, let's get out of here before anyone shows up. We'll figure out a new plan to get them - including the little blond Russian prick!" Marty grumbles.

Drouin shoves Vladdy to the dirt ground and throws Yzerchuk down at him with a frustrated grunt and annoyed sigh and then follows Marty out of a side exit passageway to the renovated building.

Vladdy pushes himself up, spitting out dirt and rocks. He snatches Yzerchuk up and brushes the hockey stick off, murmuring to it. Stamkos rushes forward and helps the young man to his feet, while Palat and Tyler help Kucherov to his feet.

"Everyone okay?" Stamkos asks.

"Yeah, are there really cops out there?" Vladdy inquires.

Stamkos grins and shakes his head. "Of course not. I bluffed. Marty's just too stubborn to realize it. I know him too well."

"And I'm sorry you got mixed up in all of this, Pally and Kuch," Tyler remarks, looking down at the ground, sorrowfully. "I thought Marty was a good guy. Turns out he's just a jealous, egotistical asshole, who only cares about himself."

"It's alright, Johnny," Palat remarks with a smile.

"Yeah, knew you come and save us!" Kucherov says with a shy grin.

"Aw, I love you guys! You're the two best friends and teammates I could ask for. And you all as well." Tyler hugs them both closely again.

Vladdy smiles at them and then at Stamkos, who nods his head. "Stammer, you're such a brilliant captain!"

"Watch it Vladdy, no need to be a kiss-ass now."

"No, no, I mean it. Thanks for following your gut. Turns out I'm not as strong as you are. I tried to handle Drouin, but he bested me. If it were you, you'd have easily got him." Vladdy looks down at his feet now, ashamed.

Stamkos puts a hand on Vladdy's shoulder. "Hey, don't be so hard on yourself, Vladdy. You tried and you were plenty brave enough. I'm actually very proud of you. It takes strength to fight back against a villain like Marty. You didn't give in and kill Tyler when he ordered you to. That takes real heroism there."

Tyler nods. "Yeah, thanks Vladdy."

Vladdy smiles at them. "I guess you're right."

"Now come on, let's get out of here and get back to Amalie and figure out what happened to Stralsy and Sus," Stamkos states.

They gather together, aiding one another back out into the parking lot and pass by Marty's car. They shrug and continue onto the corner of Morgan. Kucherov staggers in place, gripping tightly to his two Triplet linemates.

"We got ya Kuch, nothing's gonna happen to you. You'll be fine!" Tyler says. "Triplets stick together always. It's something Marty could never understand. Unlike him, I found the best linemen in the NHL and the two best friends!"

Palat and Kucherov smile at him.

"What about me? The honorary fourth?" Vladdy pipes up.

"You're included, Vladdy," Tyler chuckles. "Come here."

Vladdy smiles and joins in the trio's hug, still holding tightly to Yzerchuk. The stick glistens in the moonlight overhead. Stamkos smiles to himself and looks toward the Selmon and Amalie Arena. He had the best team in the NHL. He really did.

Meanwhile,

Marty St. Louis and Jonathan Drouin head back toward Amalie Arena, walking down Morgan. They reach the exit ramp for the Selmon Expressway and are cut off by a familiar black car, which halts at the end. Luckily there are barely any cars at this time of the day and no one really uses the Selmon. The passenger window rolls down and the furious face of Matt Carle looks out at them.

"What happened? You were supposed to kill them!" Carle snarls.

"We did our best, Carle." Drouin folds his arms across his chest. "Unlike you. We actually got close!"

"Hey, keep mouthing off to me and I have some friends who can teach you a little lesson, alright Draft Bust?"

"Like who?"

"Perhaps you know Brendan Gallagher, Andrei Markov, Alexei Emelin, and I'd be shocked if you didn't know, P.K. Subban?" Carle sneers.

"I do. I don't live under a rock!" Drouin snaps.

Marty waves his hands in front of himself and remarks, "Carle, listen, we both discovered something that could be helpful to the fate of the Tampa Bay Lightning."

"Yes, yes, you know about their stupid magical lightning bolt, Yzerchuk right?!" Carle rolls his eyes with annoyance. "Me and my Hab friends know ALL about that thing!"

Marty smirks darkly at him. "No, it's better. Yzerchuk isn't just a magical lightning bolt. Yzerchuk is actually the little blond Russian's precious hockey stick. All he has to do is shout out, 'In Yzerchuk we trust' and the stick is activated, turning into the lightning bolt. Also, he's the only one who can activate it, so without him, the Lightning can't thrive."

"What are you suggesting, Marty?" Carle slyly inquires, the corners of mouth twisted upward in a demented smirk.

"You know what I mean," Marty responds with a wink.

"Get in. I'll take you to Subban and Markov. They'll enjoy this news a ton." Carle tosses his head in a signal for them to get into the backseat and the two get into the back of the car, which then peels off, zooming down Morgan, toward Ybor City. 

To be continued...