17:00 EST - Sheraton Hotel - Toronto, ON - Floor 17 - Room 1719

"Wake up bitches, get your asses out of bed and clean the cheetos off your face because it's time to go!"

Johnson and Nichushkin awoke with a start, with someone hammering at their door and yelling. They quickly identified the voice as that of veteran defenseman Darian Scherbluk, the quiet leader in public but obnoxious and racuous figure around his teammates. Lukas exchanged a quick look with Nazar and Lukas whispered "1 in 3, odds you get the door... 1, 2, 3..."

"TWO!" they both whispered simultaneously.

Nazar Nichuhskin, the North Stars S23 draft pick from the Vancouver Whalers, murmered an expletive or two and rolled out of his bed, rubbing his eyes as he went to the door. Swinging it open, he was greeted by the site of a cheery Darian at the door, looking like he was on some next level trip and tooting a horn unnecessarily. "What the hell do you want?"

The veteran defenseman grinned, like he'd been waiting his whole life for this question, "For you lazy rookies to get out of bed and ready to learn the ways of the big leagues. This isn't your pansy SMJHL league anymore, you're in the big time now. The show. Ain't no time for naps when you're getting ready to shit on some Steelhawks at 7 and still be prepped to hit the strip club at 11. It just doesn't work out."

The rookie raised an eyebrow, usually he wasn't one to question his elders but Scherbluk wasn't always known to be the most responsible person around. "What do you mean 'learn the ways of the big leagues'? We already went for a practice this morning, filled the water bottles, had our clothes stolen while we were in the showers. Honestly a nap would be great right now so you can shut up, or fuck off. Or both, that would be great thanks!" and Nichushkin swung the door shut.

Thump, Darian stuck his meaty foot in the doorway before the door could close. "Practice? Who needs practice in the SHL, we're already great, or else we'd still be playing in the SMJHL. I'm talking about the real ways of the big leagues, I'm going to teach you to embrace the lifestyle. We're living the dream right now, start acting like it." and with that, he let out a carnal yell and took off down the hallway, stopping once to yell at them in a slightly more vulgar manner to 'put some clothes over your pasty-ass skin and meet me in the lobby'.

After a quick discussion and much to their dismay, the rookies made their way down to the lobby, not looking to start any internal conflicts when they'd just been called up to the roster yesterday.

Lukas Johnson, the S23 draft pick from the Detroit Falcons, walked over to Scherbluk and spoke with a bit of a Norweigan accent poking through at times, "So, where ah are we going?"

"You'll see, try and keep up kids!" Scherbluk yelled as he hauled ass out the door and onto the streets of downtown Toronto.

Johnson hesitated for a second but thought, 'Hey, we're in the heart of the city, what could possibly go wrong?"

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12 Hours Later - Approximately 06:52 AM EST - Some Alley

A coughing sound escaped Johnson as he spit up some blood onto the paved road of an alley, at least that's where he thought he was. His back was against something cold and metal, a dumpster he assumed. Gross. A splitting pain stuck like a knife in his head and his clothes were torn. He closed his eyes and shook his head, thinking out loud, "What could possibly go wrong... I just had to ask.'

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10 Hours Earlier - Approximately 21:10 PM EST - Dive Bar

Nazar shook his head, this wasn't like what he'd heard about in the home country at all. He was sitting with his head resting on his arms, hunched over the bar and trying to tune out the shitty renditions of Karaoke coming from Scherbluk, a beer in each hand. Some girl kept rubbing up against Nichushkin but he wasn't in the mood. He was sober and she resembled white trash, Nazar guessed her name was something like Amber or Tiffany.

Scherbluk finished singing his one-man version of Bohemian Rhapsody and made his way over, beer in each hand. "I AM BEERCULES!" he bellowed, grabbing Johnson away from a table of girls by his arm and dragging him over to where Nazar was. "You guys look way too sober, try this." Scherbluk waved his hand and yelled at the bartender to make him three Darian's, extra strong. The drinks were slid over in small shot glasses and Darian turned to the rookies with a straight face, "Be careful, these are incredibly strong. One is enough to put a horse to sleep. Be careful and drink up!" he grinned, tossing his drink back in one movement and making his way back towards the karaoke stage.

Nazar and Lukas looked at each other and laughed. What a tiny amount of alcohol, the notion of a big burly man like Scherbluk warning them to be careful seemed sort of ridiculous. First shot went down smooth like water and they felt nothing, so they ordered another. Same thing so they ordered a 3rd. That one went down fine too, but both are on their entry level deals so they decided to slow down in order to make sure that their bank account didn't get more slammed than them.

"Fuck this." Johnson grumbled, "Scherbluk's full of shit. I don't know why he dragged us out here. I say we go grab some ice cream and head home."

Nazar nodded and got up from his seat, Johnson left the bartender a $50 and told him that Scherbluk would take care of any further matters. They walked down the sidewalk towards the Dairy Queen near their apartment building and Johnson's step stuttered for a moment. He paused, "Did the ground just shake?"

The Russian laughed at him, "Nope, definitely did not." Lukas shook his head and continued down the street, still feeling completely normal.

Their naivety was almost blissful as they continued down the street, unaware of the events that would transpire later that night.

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8 Hours Later - Approximately 05:28 EST - Currently Unknown

Whack - Nazar sat up and hit his head off something glass. He rubbed his eyes groggily, trying to shake the spinning feeling in his stomach and gain his bearings. His fingertips ran over a cut on his cheek, which seemed abnormally deep, and he slowly looked around, his eyes falling upon a familiar sign. WHITE CASTLE the sign above him read, he'd woken up on the window sill of America's greatest fast food chain. There was not a soul in sight, no clue of how he'd gotten to America from Canada. Lettting out a groan, Nazar laid back down, this was going to be a tough one to explain.

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7 Hours Earlier - Approximately 22:17 EST - The 6

It hit them like a brick, they had thought Scherbluk was kidding about the intensity of the drink but he wasn't. One second they were walking down the street from Dairy Queen back to their apartment and the next they found themselves in some club, with the bass vibrating against their chests and accepting glow sticks from some girl who was too inebriated to walk properly. Their earlier apprehension had evaporated and they grinned at each other, now this was the kind of lifestyle they could get used to. Johnson could've sworn that he saw a zebra on that dance floor, prancing along to the sounds of some deep house.

They walked up to the bartender and asked for a couple fireballs to get it going even harder. He came back with two each, but refused payment. "You guys are North Stars, I've seen your faces on those billboards. Here, you drink free!"

Could life get any better than this moment? Probably not. The prospects stared at each other in awe before throwing back their drinks, this was the big league lifestyle and things were about to get very interesting. They made their way to the dancefloor, each attracting a couple girls that wanted their turn with Toronto's finest. A few songs passed before the DJ cut the music and took to the mic, "I just want all of you to know that we've got a couple of the North Stars in our club tonight! Let's show them how Toronto fuckin parties!" and motioned for Nazar to come up on stage.

Back in Russia, Nichushkin had never been part of the whole club scene, but the alcohol seemed to take over his buddy. With a rush of courage that had never been there before, he ran up onto the stage and started running and jumping around as the DJ dropped beat after beat. In one last effort to get the crowd going, Nazar went to his signature move:

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That was met with some female cheers and a lot of disgusted male groans, but Nichushkin didn't care, for that moment he was on top of the world. His moment of bliss was shattered though as he saw Lukas get pushed from behind by some guy in the crowd, yelling about grinding up on his girlfriend. Nazar hopped off the stage and ran to where the conflict was, the two men already throwing punches. He wasn't worried about Lukas, his friend had been training his fighting over the season, but he didn't want the tabloids getting a hold of it. Before he could get there, a bouncer had Johnson and the other man by the necks of their shirts and was hauling them out the door.

The prospects made their way out onto the street, slightly disheveled but giggling like children. The night had quickly gone from 0 to 100 and the clock hadn't even struck midnight yet. They set off down the street, back into the heart of the city to find more fun, or trouble, whichever came first.

Trouble it seemed, was the answer, as a familiar bellow came from down the street and a man they knew all too well came running towards them, cheeks red and puffing. Except, he looked fatter. For reasons still unknown, Darian Scherbluk was sprinting down the street in a sumo suit, right in their direction while making a war cry. “ROUND ONE BABY!” he yelled as he slammed full speed into Nazar, throwing him backwards into some bushes.

“i’ve been looking everywhere for you guys, almost put up some lost children posters. I try and show you a good time and you ditch me?” Scherbluk narrowed his eyes and mumbled something about damn communists these days.

Nazar crawled out from the bushes and brushed himself off gingerly, if he was more sober he probably would’ve been in more pain. He got up, pulled a knife out of his pocket and stabbed Darian’s suit, deflating all the air out. “Prick.”

Enraged, Darian picked up Nichushkin and threw him into and through the window of a corner store, alarms going off. Johnson grabbed Scherbluk and tried to hold him back but they heard police sirens coming around the block and took off in opposite directions, Lukas stopping to throw Nazar over his shoulder before hightailing it through some alleys.

“HOLY SHIT!” Johnson yelled as he hopped over the last fence and leaned back against it. “YOU SHOULD’VE SEEN YOUR FACE WHEN HE THREW YOU THROUGH THE WINDOW!” and he broke out in a fit of laughter, his friend looking like he was ready to throw him through a window. Johnson giggled at the sight of a 5 inch wide cut on his teammate’s cheek from the glass, but didn’t say anything that might prematurely end the night.

The two sat there for another minute to collect themselves before standing up and continuing back on their way. They stumbled for another block or so, looking for the next establishment that would play host to their drunken shenanigans.

“Well if it isn’t Toronto’s weak links” came a condescending voice from the shadows, followed by the laughter of two others.

Andrey Barbashev, David Benson and Luka Zaitsev stepped out, dart in one hand and beer in the other. “We had our spots guaranteed before training camp, you guys only made it on because Toronto failed at finding anyone better. Which must’ve been difficult because 99% of the league is better than you two.” Zaitsev laughed.

The former first overall pick David Benson joined in on the ribbing, “You guys look like you’ve had a rough night. Though not like it matters with all the pine you’ll be riding this season.”

Johnson had taken enough abuse for one night and decided to throw a shot where it hurt most, lifting up his hand that housed the Four Star Cup ring from Season 23, “Hey Luka and Barbs, how’s that cup you guys won… Oh wait…” and flashed a grin, forgetting that Nazar was also on the Whalers team. Benson enjoyed the joke and threw a couple shots of his own while admiring his Season 22 Four Star Cup ring.

It wasn’t long before the two sides came to blows, with the three former Whalers against Johnson and Benson, trading punches on the street. Johnson and Benson grinned at each other through the conflict, “BASH BROS!” Johnson yelled, while taking Zaitsev into a headlock and fighting off Nichushkin.

Johnson clocked Nichushkin with an uppercut and he dropped unconscious to the sidewalk, the fight was now 2 on 2. Well at least momentarily as Barbashev bottle smashed Benson over the head, knocking the former Knight into a deep slumber. Noticing that the luggage hold of a passing greyhound bus was open, Johnson quickly threw Nichushkin in just before the bus took off again and cracked up laughing.

It was a 2 on 1 fight, Johnson against Barbs and Zaitsev. Lukas would like to think he put up a good fight, but really it was like a 4th grader getting the shit kicked out of him by a couple 8th graders who were short on lunch money. The two Whalers took care of business, busting open Lukas’ mouth and throwing him into an open dumpster. WHALERS RULE was written on his forehead in green sharpie, the same treatment given to Benson in a nearby dumpster.

Satisfied with their work, Barbashev and Zaitsev set off back to their apartment, knowing that they had likely just solidified their chances of winning rookie of the year.

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5 Hours Later - Approximately 07:45 EST - North Stars Practice Facility


The North Stars locker room in the practice facility was ready for the upcoming season, all players’ stalls designated and new equipment & jerseys proudly displayed. 14 players sat in the room, but Benson, Johnson and Nichushkin were still missing, 45 minutes before practice time.

Benson was the first to arrive, Whalers Rule still on his face, missing a shoe and sporting a black eye. His clothes were disheveled and he looked like he hadn’t slept for days. “Don’t ask” he said as he sat down next to Scherbluk, who looked none the worse for wear, cheery as always and ready to go smash some bodies on the ice.

Next up was Johnson, looking similar to Benson but missing both shoes and one of the sleeves on his shirt. He laughed when he saw Benson, but quieted quickly when team leader Cunningham asked if he found being late to practice humorous. Not a good way to start the year for the rookie, but there was no way he could explain what had transpired the night before.

Finally, with 30 minutes left before practice, Nazar Nichushkin stumbled into the room. He smelled of piss and alcohol, his grizzled appearance made him seem like a homeless person that had snuck into the practice facility. Someone had drawn penises all over his face while asleep at the White Castle and he eventually had found his way back into Canada, doing some bribing and begging in order to be let back in. The cut on his cheek was still bleeding, and he glared furiously at Scherbluk before diverting his gaze back to Johnson and Benson.

Before anything could be said, the coach entered the room. “Benson, Johnson, Nichushkin… I don’t even want to know. Don’t let it happen again. You guys are rookies but you’re in the big leagues now. You have responsibilities, start acting like a professional.” All 3 nodded their heads, and shared one last look with each other.

A silent agreement that the events of the night before would never again be discussed out loud.

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Nicely done JNH!!

post budget pls & ty

That was pure gold, there's nothing like a crazy night of messed up shit to help new teammates bond haha. Good write up JNH

 

 
Slava-Ukraini Heroyam-Slava || Yukon Malamutes || Toronto North Stars
Name: Slava-Ukraini Heroyam-Slava
Nationality: Kryvyi Rih, Ukraine
Height: 6"4
Weight: 230
Number: 91
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Career Statistics:
SMJHL Regular Season:
S53 | GP: 66 | G: 14 | A: 28 | P: 42 | +/-: 12 | PPP: 1 | PIM: 0 | H: 68 | SB: 4 | TA: 31 | GA: 38
SHL Regular Season:
SMJHL Post Season:
S53 | GP: 11 | G: 2 | A: 3 | P: 5 | +/-: -3 | PPP: 0 | PIM: 0 | H: 22 | SB: 0 | TA: 4 | GA: 10
SHL Post Season:
------------------------------------------------------------
Career Transactions:
S74 Drafted 11th overall to the Yukon Malamutes
S75 Drafted 6th overall to the Toronto North Stars

 

Fuckin' Whalers! Nice one JNH, some rookie bonding or sure!

Current Player: C - Matthew Leroux [Vancouver Whalers]
Past Player: RW - David Benson [Seattle Riot/First Overall Scrub]

Good work man.

This shit was hilarious.

This is too good :lol: