Ridgeway and his defender get into it, and they are throwing punches. They both get thrown in the box. It’s getting more volatile by the second. I’m left waiting for it to erupt.
Solace gets tripped into the boards, and he’s pissed. He doesn’t get a call, the refs either missed it or are so fed up with both teams they aren’t calling shit.
Great.
Solace is already a fucking hot head, and we have enough players losing their cool. I try to catch Coach’s eye to get himto give Solace a break, but he’s already yelling about something, and Coach Hawke is not a yeller.
On the next play, Solace takes down the guy from behind. A bit of a dick move, but he deserves it, and of course the refs call that one, so he’s in the box and we’re a man down. Ktytor and Seaborn are fighting for position while the Monsters move the puck around, trying to make me move enough for an easy point. I’m shocked our teams haven’t broken out in blows yet.
One of their players gets around Ciro because Archangel is out on a break. I come out and check him, but he flicks the puck to Ktytor, who puts it right in the opposite corner. I never had a fucking chance.
I curse, enraged at how we’re playing, but don’t have time to even process it before Ktytor and Seaborn are going at each other. Ktytor pulls out some fucking martial arts throw, slamming Seaborn onto the ice. I cringe. That is going to fucking hurt tomorrow.
The refs don’t even give him a fucking misconduct. They call it like a normal fight. The whole team is irate, but if Ktytor is off the ice for five minutes, maybe we can pull something out of our asses.
We score and start to play more like a team. But it’s down to the wire.
Coach Hawke calls a timeout with two minutes left.
Archangel asks Seaborn if he needs a break from Ktytor, but he won’t allow it. I just need him not to lose his cool.
Against all odds, Archangel steals the puck, and the team takes off down the ice. He’s ahead of the pack and doesn’t have anyone to pass it up to so he keeps going, facing off against Mark.
Somehow, Ridgeway appears out of nowhere, and Archangel gets off a pass. Mark won’t have enough time to change directions. I wait for Ridgeway to slow, but instead of tryingto change directions, Mark launches himself off Archangel, using the momentum to change direction and check Ridgeway. Archangel cracks his head on the ice, and I’m sprinting out of the goal.
Mark is fucking mine. I don’t even make it all the way down the ice before he’s out of the goal and throwing down his gloves.
“Want a piece of me, shitbag?” Mark says when I get closer.
I charge him, decking him right in the face. He falls back but doesn’t stay down. Good. I’d be fucking disappointed.
He swings at me, but I grew up fighting off other kids and methheads for scraps, so I dodge it easily. Survival was learning to box as early as I could stand. I deck him in the jaw, then nail him in the chest to knock him over.
This time, he stays fucking down.
“Touch him again, and I’ll fucking kill you.”
Mark laughs while the refs help him up.
Other players take our penalty, but Mark is taken out of the game, replaced by his backup, but with less than a minute left, we can’t make anything happen.
We lose, and I’m pissed.
Pissed at Mark.
Pissed at myself.
Coach doesn’t keep us long. He’s disappointed, but he’s not the type of guy to go off. I’m sure we’ll hear all about how disappointed he is at practice tomorrow.
I take my time in the shower, not ready to face the team.
The locker room is empty when I come out with my towel wrapped around my waist. I stand in front of my cubby, just processing.
“Are you okay?” Archangel asks quietly, startling me.
I grab my chest. “Fuck. You can’t sneak up on me.”
“I didn’t mean to.” He puts a hand on my arm. His eyes are bloodshot, and he looks like shit.
