Together Until We Die...

Chapter 1

"You notice how people always say "Kane and Toews"?" Patrick Kane piped up, elbowing his best friend in the shoulder. He grinned from ear to ear.

The two Chicago Blackhawks were walking down the sidewalk, heading toward their next charity event. Jonathan wore a fitting gray shirt with a pair of dark denim jeans. Patrick had on a red shirt, showcasing his famous "Showtime" shout, after he scored a big goal in the playoffs. He wore a pair of lighter blue colored jeans.

Patrick's hair was starting to grow out again and it curled into a big moppy mess on his head. The wind blew through the dirty blonde locks on top. He didn't seem to care.

"No." Jonathan Toews looked at his feet. He ignored his perky partner-in-crime, who bounced beside him.

"Quit whining, it just sounds good, you know. "Kane and Toews!" Always put the best first, right?" Patrick remarked, elbowing him, good-naturedly.

Jonathan grunted a response. Patrick rammed into him, again, playfully. The Chicago Captain recovered his balance. He snapped his head up and began to chuckle, as he tried to shove Patrick away. He finally cracked a smile, breaking his serious nature. "Kaner, stop it!"

They began to laugh with one another, juvenilely.

Overhead, the loud drone of an incoming plane directed their attention upward. This act caused both men to gaze around, controlling their laughter. They didn't want to seem weird to passersby.

Normally, the streets were buzzing with people, but this Chicago seemed to be a little bit dead and almost eerily ghost-townish. There were only a few people outside riding bikes or exercising. And they didn't notice the two famous hockey players. Maybe they weren't into the sport so much. But even if they weren't, who wouldn't know the two most famous players in the NHL?

Thinking nothing of the eerie behavior of Chicago, the two superstars carried on. They began to cross over a bridge, when the screech of tires split through the air. Patrick and Jonathan spun around, halting in place. They glimpsed a stereotypical black van speeding down the road, recklessly.

Patrick turned to his wise captain. Jonathan put a hand out, protectively. Patrick smacked it away.

"I don't always need to be protected, Johnny. I can hold my own!" Patrick shot, stepping forward to stand adjacent to his friend.

The van zoomed closer, heading straight toward them.

Jonathan whipped around and grabbed his blonde friend by the shoulders, sternly. He locked his eyes with the younger forward. "Peeks, when I tell you to, run! You got it?"

"But Tazer..."

"Run. You hear me, run and don't stop running!"

"Tazer, no!"

"Look, you have to go and get someone, I'll try and hold these guys off!"

"But what if they kill you?"

"I'd gladly lay down my life for you, Lil Peekaboo! It's what it means to be a leader!"

Jonathan dropped his arms and gave a curt nod. Patrick's mind raced. What was going on? Who would want to kill them? Who would want to hurt the two superstars off the ice?

"Run Kaner!" Jonathan exploded, as he became sure that the car was coming straight for them.

Patrick reluctantly took off, bolting across the bridge. Behind him, he could hear the car skid to a halt. He heard shouts and angry voices. Did he dare look back to see what Jonathan was doing? He hit the other side of the bridge and whirled around.

On the bridge, Jonathan was grabbed by two masked men, who dragged him, fighting, into the back of the van.

"TAZER!!" Patrick was shocked and horrified. He needed to get help right away! He had to help his captain out. He had to do something. Spinning back around, he came face-to-face with a massive, muscular man, who seized him instantly by the wrist and dragged him back onto the bridge. And may I add, against his will.

"No! Let me go!" Patrick wailed, jerking against the tight hold.

The man ignored his desperate cries and flung the younger Blackhawk into the back with the other men and Jonathan. As soon as he hit the floor of the vehicle, his eyes locked onto the sight before him. He saw that Jonathan had been knocked out, and had been bound and gagged with black tape. The young Chicago superstar let out a gasp, before he, himself, was clocked over the head and knocked unconscious.