Flight (Book 1 of Arrow Hawk Series, Also Prequel)

Another Blackhawk Captive: But it's not for those reasons

In Russia somewhere,

Patrick Kane sat in some kind of cell. The bars that held him in were electrified and glowing. He wasn't sure why he was being kept in such a state. It wasn't like he'd be able to break out of regular ones either. Besides, that would require him first being able to break the chains clamped to his wrists and ankles, holding him securely to the wall.

Did his kidnapper and captors think he had super powers? He didn't. He couldn't grow twice his size or produce anything that could help to get out of his predicament.

As he looked around, he noticed that the cell he was in wasn't dirty or gross, like a prison. It was just simple stone, with a single barred window to the right side of the wall, he was attached to. It was too high for him to look out and just big enough to let in sunlight, which shone on him. There were intense shadows all around him, but the small room was tiny enough, that he could faintly see through the darkness to the other side.

There was no place to sit, and heck he couldn't even if there was. The way he'd been chained up, there was limited movement, with which he could make.

And he still wasn't sure exactly where he was. He was flying over what looked like a city in Russia and then he'd been flown into some building and locked in this cage, before he knew it. He had been so focused on fighting and trying to get free.

Where was he? What was going on? He had to find out. And he had to get some answers. He was owned them.

"HEY!! LET ME GO!! LET ME OUT OF HERE!!" he had continued to shout, thinking that it might piss someone off enough to finally talk to him and give him the answers he was seeking. He wasn't being held captive here for nothing.

He wasn't sure what was going on or why, but he had been kidnapped by some flying birdman. It was like something out of a movie or from the Wizard of Oz. But it was no Flying Monkey...it was a bird-like creature.

"SHUT UP IN THERE!! Заткнись! Молчать! (Shut up! Silence!)" someone finally snapped back at him.

Patrick glanced up at the bars and spotted someone moving around. He got to his feet and came forward as best as he could. Then he cleared his throat and shouted, "What do you want with me? Please, give me an answer!!"

The person turned to him and came over to the bars. Between the spaces, the blond forward saw a tall man, smirking at him. He looked so familiar. And then the name hit him.

"Kaleta?!"

"Hello, Patrick Kane, good to see you again, blondie!"

"I'm not happy to see you. Why did you have some pet of yours kidnap me?"

"My dear fellow Buffalo native, I wanted you, because you possess something so amazing that I hate."

"And that is?"

"Your hockey skill...those hands of yours...they're magical. I don't like it."

"So you're jealous of my skill then, right?"

"Not really jealous, more like infuriated."

"Infuriated?"

"Yes, I'm not going to crack and tell you the complete reason, but I don't like you."

The Chicago winger wasn't amused. He jerked at the chains, which rattled noisily behind him. It made the evil ex-hockey player cackle. "Why are you doing this?"

"I hate you. I hate hockey and I hate the NHL. When I came to the KHL, they welcomed me and they praised my skill and game style more than the NHL ever did. The NHL used to be such a physical and dominating game...and then your type showed up. The league started turning to skill first and guys like me, we had no place."