And Then There Was One (2019)

Chapter 12 - Jonne Tammela and Timo Meier

San Jose, California

July 1, 2019

The sun sets closer toward the horizon as the drawing nighttime approaches. A full moon shines brightly overhead. The stars twinkle in the misty, slightly cloudy sky. Lightning flickers in the distance, as a crisp wind rustles the branches of trees of the massive San Jose state park. A shrill scream splits the calm, peaceful night air.

A man with dark wavy brown hair runs along the sidewalk, terrified. He stumbles over his feet in his panic, but manages to get himself across the street to a series of buildings. "HELP ME!! SOMEONE HELP! THEY'RE AFTER ME!!"

A black ski-masked man leaps out of a dark alleyway from the side and grabs the man's wrist, flinging him into one of the building's brick exterior walls. He clamps a hand over his mouth and snarls, "Shut it, Spencer!"

The man named Spencer kicks out, struggling in place as more men gang up on him. He closes his eyes, terrified and tries to find his happy place in his mind. That's when pain erupts from his body in various parts.

It suddenly dawns on him that they are beating him up, blow after blow to his ribs, stomach, hip, nose and everywhere. He tries to scream, his words only muffling into the gloved hand clamped tightly over his mouth.

After a few minutes pass by, they manage to get him onto the ground on his hands and knees. The hand is gone from his mouth, but he is focused on the pain and keeping himself protected in the face. They keep on beating him up, while one of the masked assailants goes through his bag, which had been torn from him during the beating.

Just then, he feels the fists and kicks making contact with his exposed skin, causing him to curl up tighter. He finds he's able to scream and so he screams, thinking and hoping that they could take whatever they want to from him and the torture would end.

He winces, shaking his head slightly, curling into a ball on the pavement and whimpering and screaming and crying softly. He couldn't move much or get up that was for sure and every single muscle in his body was shooting with an overwhelming pain.

Suddenly a deep voice bellows out, "Hey! Get away from him! I'm Jonne Tammela and this is my assistant, Swiss Troll the White Tiger!"

Spencer peeks out between his fingers to see what was going on. A few of the men had let up on him to turn around and attend to the newcomers. He could see one of them step forward toward a man with a royal blue cape over a simple tight black athletic shirt with the Lightning logo on it and a pair of black sweatpant leggings. The wind blows his long shoulder-length blond flow back behind his head. At his heels is a snarling, furious-looking white tiger with a San Jose Shark themed bracelet on his paw and a dog tag dangling around his neck.

"Who?" one of the men snaps, flicking a dagger-like weapon out to his side, threateningly.

Jonne puts his hands on his hips and sassily remarks, "I'm sorry, was that one not good enough? I'm Goofball and this is my assistant, Stripes."

The white tiger tosses his head and his eyes. "I'm Bubbles and this is my assistant, Ripley."

"Ew, really? Let me stick to thinking of the names, here? You're my tiger ASSISTANT, not me to you, Timo!"

Timo, the tiger, spins on his paws to face Jonne.

"Hey! Jonne Tammela and Timo Meier, knock it off and help me out here!!" Spencer shouts out.

Jonne reaches behind him and whips out a hockey stick from behind him. He spins it in his hands and begins to slash at the men, while Timo roars and slashes his claws at other men. The one man resumes, in a hurry, going through Spencer's bag as his friends are slowly dispatched, slain and mauled to death behind him.