The reactions to his proposal mainly went over his head. It was like one of those ideas that sticks with you, even though everybody tells you you'd be a lot better off abandoning it. He was contemplating different techniques for shoving the goal into the ice, when a voice penetrated the thick kevlar layer around his brain.

"Downhouser, I need the ball."

He looked up, in wonder a bit, and stared at Katie.

"You need the ball?" he asked.

Bingo!
She stared up into Downhouser's face, "I need you to get me the ball."

Downhouser looked at the woman. He had heard right then. This was what he needed: direct directions.

"I'll get you that ball." he stated.

Katie reached over and grabbed ahold of Gerald’s arm. Her voice began rising passionately, “Are you gonna get me the ball?”

The first period had passed in a blur. For all that happened, it didn't seem to have been full-length, though maybe the adrenaline surging in his body made things just speed by. Thus far, Vitali was having mixed opinions about his team.

Downhouser's inability to win the draw and to read the plays of the other team left him almost being a detriment to their own side. Although...considering that the big man could probably easily pull the Ukrainian apart in a fashion most similarly threatened by Han Solo regarding Chewbacca and C-3PO left him unwilling to make any comment.

Katie had the speed, and the moves, but watching her get trucked from behind left him absently wanting the S&W, his need to protect others rising to the surface. Perhaps they'd have better luck this time around.

Danyael served a pretty decent role in running a distraction to at least one Wildfire player, though he wondered how long it could last for. Especially considering their own lack of equipment. That noted, he was amazed that Katie was able to get back up.

Percy, whom Vitali had high hopes for, served little purpose beyond making a veritable army of snowmen. It was much moreso Virago that owned the ice, pulling off his weird video-gamish launching move that somehow caused his victim to detonate on impact. Perhaps if the superhero-type could find some means of flinging bodies at other players...

Taking a seat on the bench, Vitali listened to Downhouser's suggestion of smashing the net down into the ice, and was about to comment before the well-dressed Danyael made his condescending comment. It saved him the explanation of this, and as he had already dismissed the idea of flipping the net face-down on the ice, largely by a terrifying notion that somehow involved chainsaws, he just kept his mouth shut to not be the next target.

The topic next switched over to something regarding a ball, to which he was completely clueless. So, rather than try to involve himself in a conversation with which he knew nothing of, Vitali assessed his resources. He had a pocket full of tape balls, a roll of duct tape, and his tarp. The power these shots packed left the idea of taping the tarp over the net to seem frutal. But a flashback to busting open his chin as a teenager when he stepped onto the ice with tape on his skate blade brought a sly grin to his face.

Obviously foul play wasn't going to be called, if Virago managed to brutally kill somebody on the ice. Maybe he could get away with some tactics of his own. Taking his glove off, he retrieved the roll of duct tape and began peeling off foot-long strips of it. Realizing that he might have gotten ahead of himself here, his vision caught Virago's costume, and he suddenly saw the brilliance of it. He began sticking the tape to himself wherever there was a free spot; chest, waist, back of the arm. Anywhere he could quickly snatch it. By the time he was done, he was half a roll poorer, and looked similar to an unwrapped mummy.

“I've got an idea here that can help keep our end safe, but you'll have to keep away from my crease once this goes down.” He indicated the tape all over his body. “But, if one of them steps on these bad boys, feel free to chop him up a bit.” Vitali threw a tricky grin that really played up his apparent confidence, though he really wasn't sure exactly what was going to happen this period around. Just get out there and hold his ground. That was his expertise, anyway.

(OOC: Again, chop up the ice around the crease. Once the puck is in the Wildfire zone, Vitali will drop his stick and start unloading the duct tape strips all over the ice in a semicircle up to the hash marks. He'll go for this ONLY if he's safe to do so, however. Again, one awesome point for making a tough save.)

Gerald looked at the hand on his arm and then at the woman. She was staring at him intently. He stared back and yanked his arm free, almost dislocating Katie's arm in the process, and yelled:

"I'll get you that ball!"

”END OF THE FIRST PERIOD. CURRENT SCORE; WILDFIRES: ZERO, FANTASTI'S LAPDOGS: ZERO. YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE BEFORE THE NEXT PERIOD.”

I don't think we're supposed to have zero...
Virago continued wildly skating around the area, swinging his blood stained hockey stick around in a fashion that might remind one of a four year old with his first cardboard tube. He could have competed in the Olympic figure skating championships if only he had passed that drug test.

Luckily The Canadian didn't seem to mind that a nuclear dose of amphetamines were coursing through his veins, and that the pure bloodlust of a psychopathic street fighter was being pent up and prepped to explode.

"HEY, CANADIAN! YOUR CENTER QUIT. POOR FELLER COULDN'T TAKE THE HEAT."
On his third lap around the ice he stopped to notice the rest of his team huddling up. Apparently the game was paused, and seems to have been for several minutes now. He hurried over to join them.

"I'll get you that ball!"

"Huh, ball?" Apparently he missed the conversation. Too bad.
"So guys. Hockey is fun, huh? Did you see what happened to their center? I like playing hockey. It's so much easier to move on these skates. I hope the Canadian lets me keep them. Who should I try to kill this time net man? And what's with the tape? Man this is fun, huh? I liked your snowmen Percy. You should totally try my version and just attack the other guys that come down here. Then make sure you hit that little black thingy down to the other side so those guys *pointing to Danyael and Katie* can do... uh... whatever it is they do.

"But snowmen are cool too I guess."

He knew exactly what he was doing. In total control. At least he thought he was in total control. That wasn't really the issue anymore though. He wanted to kill something. The captain and the woman thing seemed to be well taken care of. Virago needed a target, fast. He swung around and sped back to their goal, where Rooskie was apparently setting some sort of ambush trap. NOW he was playing hockey the right way!

"Hey Goalie, why does the other guy have so much better stuff than you? Hey I got an idea! I killed their guy and then took his stick. Why don't I kill THAT guy and then you can have HIS stuff? Good idea huh? I'm good at this hockey thing, right?"

Either way, there would be blood.

Virago skated to center ice as the new round started. "So uh, since your guys' center can't come out to play, and I have his stick... I think that means I should be the one facing off against Conan here, right? I'm not really good with the rules yet."

“Ok, guys,” he said when everybody was bunched together on the bench, “we can win this thing. All I need to do is stomp our own goal so deep into the ice that there is no more room for that black, little, flat ball to get in.”
There was a moment of complete silence as the assembled group stared at the enormous Downhouser, who by all accounts believed this was a genuinely good suggestion, let alone physically possible. It was only the nervous twittering of Percy (who seemingly had constructed another snow man atop the boards) that finally drew the team's attention back to the fact that they had to step out onto the ice again shortly. Seizing the moment, Danyael quickly laid out his thoughts on the game plan.

"Virago has already reduced their team by 1 with some creative high sticking. That should make this next period a bit easier. I'll keep the captain and the incredibly she-hulk out of it as much as I can. All we have to do is hold them off, and score a single goal. We've seen that they play dirty, and the ref didn't call anything on Virago. So guys, what do you say we step up the beating a bit eh?"
There were murmurs of agreement (and some more giggling from Percy) as the team prepared to step out on the ice. Vitali began slapping dozens of pieces of duct tape to himself, as Katie managed to get Downhouser worked up into a “ball-getting frenzy”. As Downhouser stormed out onto the ice, the group realized that Virago hadn't been present at the huddle. A quick scan of the rink noticed the hyperactive man-child firing himself around the ice at near supersonic speeds, all the while shouting jeers and taunts at the Canadian and the other team. Virago finally returned to the bench just as the rest of the team prepared to step out on to the ice, and wasted no time in releasing his unique form of conversation.

"So guys. Hockey is fun, huh? Did you see what happened to their center? I like playing hockey. It's so much easier to move on these skates. I hope the Canadian lets me keep them. Who should I try to kill this time net man? And what's with the tape? Man this is fun, huh? I liked your snowmen Percy. You should totally try my version and just attack the other guys that come down here. Then make sure you hit that little black thingy down to the other side so those guys can do... uh... whatever it is they do.
He skated impatiently around the ice while the rest of the team took their positions, bobbing and weaving around Percy's small army of snowmen. The Wildfire's spread out on the ice as Virago skated back to Vitali's net, which by now was tactically surrounded in pieces of duct tape as some sort of deterrent.

"Hey Goalie, why does the other guy have so much better stuff than you? Hey I got an idea! I killed their guy and then took his stick. Why don't I kill THAT guy and then you can have HIS stuff? Good idea huh? I'm good at this hockey thing, right?"
Before Vitali even had a chance to respond, Virago was off again, spiralling towards centre ice and for some reason setting up opposite Downhouser on the Wildfire's half. Prompting the referee to attempt to push him back over the centre line and towards his own end as the Wildfire captain stepped off Katie's wing to take the face-off against the enormous super cop.

The referee took his place, and the players prepared for the near inevitable failure of Downhouser to win a face-off when Danyael managed to catch the captain's eye. Giving a sly smile, Danyael looked up to the stands where the captain's wife was sitting, and gave a very visible wink, causing the new centre's face to redden with rage. Danyael's distraction proved very useful as the captain didn't even notice as the puck dropped, taking off at a full sprint towards Danyael, who suddenly remembered why enraging a man twice your size was almost always a bad idea.

Downhouser meanwhile, had simply been repeating his new mantra over and over in his head. I will get you that ball. I will get you that ball. I will get you that ball. He looked over at Katie on the wings and gave what could be considered a knowing (for Downhouser anyway) nod just as the puck began to drop. As captain Connard took off in the opposite direction, Downhouser could hardly contain his joy. He was going to get her the ball. Overwhelmed by his sheer satisfaction with the situation, he swung his stick back in a large arc, more akin to the slapshot than a pass, and let loose a deafening bellow.

”I WILL GET YOU THAT BALL”
There was a resounding boom as the giant's stick connected with the puck, and for all her speed Katie had absolutely no chance of bringing it down as it tore towards her on her way up the wing. Left with no chance but to hurl herself onto the ice, she barely managed to get out of the way as the puck sailed centimetres over her head and through the glass, causing a terrific crash as the panel didn't so much shatter as dematerialize. The sailed down the long Zamboni entrance path and seemed to disappear into the darkness.

Seeing an opportunity to kick Katie while she was down, one of the Wildfire defensemen launched himself towards her, when a loud slapping noise was heard, followed by a sharp whistle. Any confusion was near instantly dispelled as the speeding defenseman suddenly flipped over backwards, having been struck by possibly the most fortuitous of ricochet slapshots. As his limp form hit the ice, the puck meekly slid away from his fallen form, and there was a momentary pause as just about every player on the ice paused to think about how incredibly improbable that had been. As the puck drifted towards Katie's waiting stick, a jubilant Downhouser could be heard yelling from centre ice.

”I GOT YOU THAT BALL”
Back near Downhouser, Danyael was in a mad dash for his life. Jean-Luc le Connard seemed entirely uninterested in playing hockey anymore, and he seemed a hell of a lot more proficient on his skates than the smooth lady's man. Doing his best to bob and weave across the ice, Danyael found himself running out of room as he worked his way down the rink. With the distance between the captain and himself rapidly closing, Danyael found no more ice for him to skate on, so drawing inspiration from something he'd seen in a movie once, he decided maybe it was time to skate on something other than the ice.

He waited until the captain committed to a hit before making his move, and he leapt towards the glass the the instant before the hit connected. Time seemed to slow down a moment before Danyael kicked outward, smashing his skate straight through the glass, forming an anchor keeping him suspended in the air. Left with no time to react, Jean-Luc ploughed into the boards forcefully, shattering the glass and bringing the no longer suspended Danyael dropping down on top of him knee first. While the captain groggily tried to right himself, Danyael quickly made his way down ice, back towards the action in the Wildfire's end.

With one defenseman flattened by Downhouser literally feeding him the puck and their captain still on the ice at the other end, the Wildfire line was in disarray. The lone defenseman found himself out of position as Katie streaked in on the net once again, seeking atonement for her missed shot last period. Just as she was about to take the shot however, a gibbering blur swept past her as Virago seemed to have torn his way across the ice towards the opposing goal. Before she could even think of passing to him however, he had his stick raised over his shoulder, and seemed to be making a beeline for opposing goalie, who was quickly discovering he had more pressing issues than the agile Irish lass preparing to take a shot at him.

Everything seemed to happen at once, and just as Katie fired off a quick wrister at the net time seemed to slow down, and Virago gave a mighty swing, sending himself twirling towards the Wildfire goalie, who was caught off guard by the two things sailing towards him. Catching a glimpse of the puck, he attempted to make a diving save, only to find Virago's stick hook him around the back of the neck, and pull him bodily off the ice. As the puck sailed easily into the empty net, Virago continued his slow motion death spiral, stopping his swing and sending the other goalie skyward, screaming all the while.

The goal horns blared as Katie's shot bounced off the twine and settled comfortably in the back of the net, though everyone's focus was more on the Wildfire goalie, who seemed to be setting a possible record of the longest recorded hockey stick assisted hangtime. As he collided with the ice just outside of Vitali's crease, the screams abruptly ended, and the goalie slid slow up to the Ukrainian goalkeeper, who wasted absolutely no time in getting a move on removing the ex-goalie's pads to better protect himself.

Goal celebrations were short lived however, as the sudden appearance of the Zamboni tearing towards the ice signalled the end of the period again. The players made their ways to the bench as the Zamboni began pushing the bloodied remains of the fallen Wildfire players off the ice.

”END OF THE SECOND PERIOD. CURRENT SCORE; WILDFIRES: ZERO, FANTASTI'S LAPDOGS: ONE. YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE BEFORE THE NEXT PERIOD.”
(OOC: Q&A for breakdown. Also breakdancing. Sure.)

"Well, two periods down and we're all still in one piece. That's got to count for something." He looks each of his teammates int he eyes as he speaks. "When the Canadian sent us out on the ice, he likely expected us to end up much like those thugs we saw when we came in. You guys have eliminated two of his players, and quite spectacularly at that. Now let's finish this. They can't score if they can't stand right?"

Danyael offers Downhouser and Virago a sly grin.

"I'm sure the two of you can see to that, right?"

"Katie, it would be my pleasure to run interference for you. You're our best shot at a few more points, just to make sure we win."

After his inspiring speech he looks up to the stands, where the Captain's wife sits watching him intently. He offers he a knowing grin and a promising look before shifting his gaze to the rest of the crows, specifically the Canadian himself.

(I'm looking to see what his general reaction is to how we are playing, and the loss of two of his players.)

"I don't know how things will turn out when this is over. I can't thin the Canadian will be happy with us trouncing his team, but we'll deal with that when the time comes. Right now, let's make sure that these Wildfires can't see straight enough to remember what hit them. Sound like a plan?"

Pleased with her motivational speech with Downhouser, Katie skated onto the ice into position. A sense of relief spread across her as the captain moved away from her position to faceoff with the biggest member of their team. She glanced over to Downhouser, hoping against all hope that he wouldn’t flub the first pass. He looked like his brain would split open, and he gave her something that might have been a nod. It looked more like a head spasm.

As the puck left the referee’s hand, the captain speed off towards Danyael, and Downhouser let loose.
“I WILL GET YOU THAT BALL”
Fortune had been with her when she decided to look at Gerald, for not a moment too soon did she realize that the puck was heading straight for her face. Not wanting to have the same fate as one of the druggies from the last hockey match, Katie flung herself to the ground. The ‘little flat ball’ made a deadly whistling noise as it shot over where she had been standing. Skates appeared in her field of vision, but before she had a chance to react, another resounding boom echoed across the ice. Moments later, the skates bowled over backwards. As she struggled to get up on the slippery surface, she saw that the very same destiny that would have been hers was now a Wildfire Defenseman’s. The puck slowly spun to a stop, touching her stick lightly.
“I GOT YOU THAT BALL”
Seizing the opportunity, the red head streaked towards the goal. Just one point. Just one point. Just one point. A blur sped past her, and she had a fleeting image of their, so far, deadliest team member. Not wanting to wait for an opening, she recklessly fired off a shot. It didn’t look like it was going to pass the goalie, but Virago had hooked his stick around the Wildfire member and had started swinging him away from the goal. He arced towards the Fantastico goal, and his screams quit just after the buzzer went off.

”END OF THE SECOND PERIOD. CURRENT SCORE; WILDFIRES: ZERO, FANTASTI'S LAPDOGS: ONE. YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE BEFORE THE NEXT PERIOD.”
“Downhouser!” Katie cried as she skated towards the bench, “YOU GOT ME THAT BALL.”
Danyael immediately dove into his ‘in between period pep talk’, "Well, two periods down and we're all still in one piece. That's got to count for something." He kept looking at each of them in turn as he spoke, "When the Canadian sent us out on the ice, he likely expected us to end up much like those thugs we saw when we came in. You guys have eliminated two of his players, and quite spectacularly at that. Now let's finish this. They can't score if they can't stand right?"

He paused and smiled mischievously at Virago and Downhouser.

"I'm sure the two of you can see to that, right?

"Katie, it would be my pleasure to run interference for you. You're our best shot at a few more points, just to make sure we win."

“Right, so far I am your best shot. In fact, I’m the only shot right now, which is just fine,” she began. Her eyes sparkled momentarily before she went on, “However, Downhouser and, um, Virago really have been running the best interference for our team so far. Come to think on it, Vitali took one out too. Besides, we wouldn’t want to mess up that pretty face of yours. Especially since their captain looks like he wants to take you into the locker room and have his way with you.”

As he readies himself to head back out onto the ice he turns to the firy woman. "I'd rather give that priviledge to you Fire eyes. But I don't think we have the time." With that he turns and skates out, as ready as he will ever be for the final period of this twisted game.

" They can't score if they can't stand right?"

Danyael offers Downhouser and Virago a sly grin. In return Virago offered an awkward mouth-full grin as he munched down on a protein bar from his pocket.

"I'm sure the two of you can see to that, right?"

Virago nodded quickly. "I have a special treat in store for the last few." Maybe it was time to let them in on the secret. He quietly raised his hand in the huddle and waited to have everyones attention.

"Guys, I have a confession. I don't really know how to play Hockey. My goal was to kill people. I'm sorry for leading you guys on, but I figured I should come clean. Now, without objection I'm going to go prepare for the next round. I haven't understood any of your strategy talk anyway besides the parts about hurting them, and getting the ball."

Virago made his way back out to the goal but quickly stopped and dashed back.

"I need some of that duct tape... And that other stick."
Taking whichever goalie stick the (justifiably) skeptical Vitali gives him as well as the duct tape, Virago dashes to the back of the goal, doing his best to stay hidden from the Wildfires behind the goalie's bloated pads. Using the minimum amount of tape needed (should be three or four 18 inch / 46 cm pieces), Virago affixes the two sticks together in the form of a ʃ and making sure it's secure, using his climbing rope if needed to help.

He quickly returns the tape to Vitali and did his best to keep the new stick hidden.

When the signal started to begin play again, Virago whipped out the new toy, whirling it around his body at incredible speeds. It was a little lopsided due to the goalie stick being significantly larger, but it wasn't too bad to handle.

Much more balanced than a street lamp at least.

Virago skated right past the remaining players, spinning his new weapon wildly around with little regard for anyone's safety. "I like my version of Hockey better... You Wildfires ready to play some more of MY game?"

When he had first met the team, it was Downhouser that Vitali was initially wary of. The sunglasses. The stature. The seeming simplicity of the giant that reminded him of some older movie action heroes he'd seen. The ones who always wind up gunning everybody at some point or time. But now, after being out on the ice, it was certainly Virago that left him feeling edgy. As if killing the one Wildfire player wasn't intense enough, he'd now offed the goalie with enough force to propel the body to his OWN crease. He wasn't about to protest, since it allowed him to quickly strip down the corpse of its padding and armour himself up a bit.

It was also the man's psychotic nature that left Vitali more than compliant to relinquish his stick and some of his tape, though he didn't have any idea what it might be used for. That much didn't matter. The point was to stay on the lunatic's good side.

Period break. A couple minutes intermission meant another discussion, where Vitali again had little to say. What could be said this time? They were doing pretty well. Six on three, in their favour. And one goal up, thanks to Katie. Now they just had to hang onto it for one more period, which should be manageable.

More interference. More team killing. Seemed a sound plan, if a bit grim. But right now, that didn't much matter. As long as they got out of here alive, he was fine with however it came to pass. Speaking of which... He'd momentarily lost sight of Virago.

Scratch that.

"I like my version of Hockey better... You Wildfires ready to play some more of MY game?" he called out, swinging some strange S-shaped weapon that had been crafted from their combined sticks and the tape he had loaned out. It was all the Ukrainian could do to avoid laughing, it was such a ridiculous sight. However, he had a sneaking suspicion that monstrous amounts of hurt were going to be handed out upon that thing. It was a good thing there was still a secondary stick for him to use, at least, though as absurd as the creation was...it was probably the better use for it.

“The finish line is in sight.” Vitali commented, though well aware that he stated the obvious. “One more push, and we're out of here alive. Which is more than can be said for some of them.” He nodded towards the Wildfire's team.

“I'll be glad to say.. Its a relief teams weren't decided by a stick toss. I like this one quite a lot more than those loudmouth goofballs over there.”

Really...Vitali didn't have much to say of any constructive purpose. He just didn't want to be the silent new guy who just kind of sits on the peripheral. But, his piece said, he waited for the zamboni to finish its passes before he skated back to his crease, ready to mulch up the ice surface with his skate blades again. True, it was a six on three, but there was always the potentiality for backfire. What would be best to stop that?

He shrugged to himself and set to packing up a chipped ice wall around his goal. Might as well just stick with what he knew, and guard the net like it was the last place on earth and the Wildfires were the walking dead. Yes...that was what he was good at.

“You got me that ball!” Katie yelled at Downhouser.

The big man offered her a small grin, and there was a soft twinkle in his eyes. He was never one to give way to expressions. It was more likely for expressions to gave way to hím, usually at gun point.
Yes, he had the stern look, originally reserved for naughty children. In Downhouser’s world however, all children had some form of naughty about them. Thus the stern look had become his natural state, and he had added a second, more oppressing layer of stern, which made up a look he used when facing small time criminals, drug abusers and prostitutes.

Now, he had a third step in the stern-curve, and one would assume it would revolve around an extreme, thunderous kind of stern.

One would be wrong.

The third look mostly existed of blank nothingness. When in that state, Gerald’s face was expressionless, raging in concentration. This was the look he didn’t reserve. It was a look that naturally found him whenever he dealt with the worst scum of City Fantastico. Murderers, rapists and child molesters he had encountered knew that look as the last thing they saw. Ever. At those times, Downhouser was no longer a man looking for a target; he was justice’s right hand and it wore him like a sock-puppet. A big, oversized sock-puppet with two big guns that could blow off your head and the one from the person next to you.
But now, he gave a small grin. It was something he hadn’t done in a long time. He was enjoying himself.

“So,” he asked, “Shall I run interference?”

Yes, he understood the word interference. He had been interference incarnate for about as long as he could remember.

“It’s just too bad I don’t have Big Gun #2 with me now.”

(OOC: at least, I think I remember they took our guns, right? I’m too lazy to check back… but it would make perfect sense for them to take them away.

Anyway… he’ll run interference as best and as violently as he can. If need be, he can throw Virago towards one of the opposing players. )

"When the Canadian sent us out on the ice, he likely expected us to end up much like those thugs we saw when we came in. You guys have eliminated two of his players, and quite spectacularly at that. Now let's finish this. They can't score if they can't stand right?"
Danyael's observation caught the attention of Downhouser, who was still “celebrating” with Katie, having “got her the ball” in the previous period, and the manic Virago who was, as per usual, grinning like a lunatic. Downhouser nodded with a rare look of understanding, and prepared to head out onto the ice as Virago called the group's attention for his own little inspirational speech.

"Guys, I have a confession. I don't really know how to play Hockey. My goal was to kill people. I'm sorry for leading you guys on, but I figured I should come clean. Now, without objection I'm going to go prepare for the next round. I haven't understood any of your strategy talk anyway besides the parts about hurting them, and getting the ball."
While the revelation about his lack of rules knowledge hardly came as a surprise to those assembled (considering he'd so far murdered two people and probably hadn't even noticed the puck), his “preparation” for the next round took the group of them off guard. Taken the fallen Wildfire goalie's stick and boring some of Vitali's copious duct tape supply, Virago quickly fashioned himself a double end “stick” that was more reminiscent of some sort of bizarre “heavily scythe covered helicopter blade”, so much so in fact, that despite them being in the narrative and not at all applicable to the world described in this tale, all those assembled were immediately aware that attempting to describe the weapon would involve heavy overuse of air quotes. The only one who seemed to not notice the absurdity of the “stick” was Virago himself, who looked to be attempting to play it off as nothing unusual as he skated non-nonchalantly out onto the ice. The group followed him as the last few remaining Wildfire players took to their side of the ice.

As Downhouser and Jean-Luc le Connard lined up at centre ice the assembled groups collective attention was quickly drawn to the Wildfire's goal, where the former defenceman turned goalie had seemingly taken some “extra precautions” in protecting his net. Strung up with skate lace were the two remaining bodies of the previously slain Wildfire players. The former goalie, stripped of his pads by the resourceful Vitali, and the defenceman's former blueline partner, still missing the front half of a head as the result of catching a Downhouser slap-shot dangled lifelessly from the corners of the net, and in concert with the already towering defenceman left standing, nearly completely blocked all of the open space in the net.

Before any complaints could be lodged against this obvious flaunting of the “no tying dead players to the net to prevent goals” rule, the referee threw the puck to the ice between Downhouser and the Wildfire captain, although neither seemed particularly interested in the puck. Never much for multitasking, Downhouser immediately got to the business of interfering, ploughing over the ref as he made his way towards Katie's side of the ice, preparing to flatten anyone who got in her way. Similarly, Connard made a fast break towards the opposite side of the ice, abandoning the puck itself in favour of pursuing the man who'd made a fool of him last period and Danyael quickly realized that non-audible descriptive text was referring to him as the captain hurtled towards him.

As Danyael hustled back towards his own end, Virago was dashing towards the Wildfire players, his terrifying death “stick”swinging around his body rapidly like some sort of incredibly deadly windmill on ice that hates people, completely oblivious to the puck slowly drifting towards his own net as he cross centre ice in a whirling dervish. Percy meanwhile had rediscovered his small collection of snowman, and began hurriedly reassembling those damaged by the Zamboni while giggling maniacally, much to Vitali's chagrin. The Ukrainian himself seemed slightly out of place as the hockey game degenerated into an all out brawl. While the puck drifted slowly but surely towards him, he was unsure of exactly how to proceed. If he left his net to help the others he might inadvertently allow a goal which could spell the end of all of them, especially where his defencemen seemed less than interested with defending. Giving a resigned sigh, Vitali settled into his fortified net, and hoped the other players would be able to deal with the Wildfires without his help.

Not far from Vitali's net, Danyael found himself again on the wrong end of a life-or-death chase with the Wildfire captain. Though many times in the past he'd had eluded vengeful husbands, he'd yet to have had a situation where he was in an enclosed space in hostile territory...on an ice rink. So far he wasn't enjoying the experience, as Jean-Luc had both the home field and experience advantage, and was rapidly closing the gap between them, and it seemed Danyael's time was quickly running out.

Soon Danyael found himself up against the boards, no help within easy distance, and the Connard up in the his face. The captain gave a unsettling grin and a laugh as he advanced on the trapped ladies' man.

”I'm going to enjoy this one, when I chop yoor head oof, yoo stoopid hoser...”, he laughed as he swung around and kicked his sharpened skate straight towards Danyael's head.

Danyael reflexively blinked, feeling a solid impact as he slammed hard to the ice. To be honest he'd expected it to feel different...more of a slicing feeling really. Something wasn't right here. Opening his eyes, Danyael looked up from where he had been knocked onto the ice. Standing just over him, his leg still outstretched, was the Wildfire's captain, Jean-Luc le Connard. As Danyael's eyes followed down his outstretched leg, he realized what had knocked him down. Standing up against the boards, a skate embedded deeply in their abdomen stood the Wildfire's (vaguely) female winger. As Danyael made eye contact with her(?), a small trickle of blood escaped the corner of her mouth. She looked down at Danyael, blowing him a weak kiss before she herself fell to the ice, dragging the Wildfire captain off balance as he hit the ice awkwardly.

What happened next seemed to happen in extreme slow motion. Danyael got to his feet, looking down at the captain as he struggled in vain to un-stick his foot from his former teammate. From there, his gaze went up to the stands, where his nemesis wife was sitting on the edge of her seat, watching events unfold. She looked back at him, and gave a knowing grin as he gave her a small wink and looked back at the captain.

”I think the lady's made her choice...”
What happened next has been forever since described as one of the most potent bitch slaps in the history of time. Rearing back as far as his torso would allow, Danyael shook off his glove and swung with all his might at the now very worried captain. The blow connected with an audible *THWAP* that briefly echoed (IN SLOW MOTION) throughout the arena as Danyael's follow through nearly spun him clear around. The captain, in a vagrant display of disregard for the actual laws of physics, took flight as the slap connected, tossing him bodily over the ice and into the seating, smashing through row after row until he crashed through an outer wall window and disappeared into the sky. The captain's wife spontaneously leapt out of her seat with a loud cheer before quickly settling back and regaining her composure, remembering she was technically married to the loser of the altercation. Danyael gave her a quick wink as time resumed its normal speed, causing her to swoon in her seat. It looked like he still had it.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the ice, the new Wildfire goalie found himself with only two hanging cadavers left in terms of teammates. Even more concerning, was Virago, who at this point had essentially lost all control in his wild spinning of his “stick” as he tore towards the net. As he crossed the blueline, he began to notice his feet were no longer on the ice. While he initially believed he'd perhaps spun fast enough to achieve helicopter-like flight, it quickly became apparent that Downhouser, no longer needing to run interference (there was no one left to interfere with really) had grabbed the spiralling Bostonian and lifted him bodily off the ground.

It was a fantastic sight, the enormous Downhouser hefting the strangely still spinning Virago off the ground with one arm, and holding him bodily over his head. To anyone that had followed doubles figure skating, it resembled a perfect overhead lift, and in fact it's perfection was simply so awesome that every figure skating judge within a mile radius (and for some reason there was a lot of them) immediately gave it a 6.0, setting a new world for a mono-gendered doubles team, though it was doubtful the decision would be upheld by any sports body, given the condition of the ice at the time, as well as the fact that both team members had killed one or people less than an hour before. A true loss to the sport of pairs skating, all told.

The wildfire replacement goalie, mindful of just what had occurred that led to him being able to string a pair corpses up as back-up goalies, hastily attempted to vacate the net. Downhouser (and by extension Virago, though in truth he had little control over what direction he headed in next) had other ideas, and hurtled the still twirling Virago toward the fleeing player. Virago's arm strength coupled with Virago's seeming disregard for hangtime restrictions combined a terrifying “stick” swinging hunter killer missile as Virago made contact with the defenceman's back. That was a large inexplicable smoke burst as he collided, and as it cleared Virago was left standing with no sign of the defenceman remaining save a slice of Wildfire uniform coloured cloth hanging from one end of Virago's stick. Further adding to the incredulousness of the situation, the corner of the Wildfire netting had seemingly spontaneously caught on fire, and burned a for a moment before smouldering out.

Back at the other end of the ice, Vitali waited patiently as the puck finally drifted within his reach. Stopping its minimal momentum with a poke of his stick, his attention was drawn to the action at the other end of the ice. As the disturbance ended, Vitali gave a quick look up at the scoreboard, noting that despite the lack of opposition players, there was still just under a minute left in the period. Gazing down the ice at the now mostly empty net, Vitali figured he might as well do something with the remaining time. Stepping out of the net and swinging back his oversized stick, Vitali ripped an end to end slapshot down ice. The whole arena watched as the puck made it's way across the rink, and straight down the centre of the lane into the net. There was a loud blare as the goal horn sounded and red lights throughout the arena flashed in celebration. Shortly afterwards the end of period horn sounded, and a familiar voice came over the loudspeakers.


”END OF THE GAAAAAAAAAAME LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! FINAL SCORE; WILDFIRES: ZERO, FANTASTI'S LAPDOGS: TWO. LET'S HAVE A BIG HAND FOR OUR TEAMS TONIGHT FOLKS!”
The dead silence in the arena was broken by the frantic clapping and cheering of the seemingly now widowed Amy le Connard. Danyael gave her a knowing look as the referee attempted to organise the group into a line for the traditional post-game handshake, but such formalities were abandoned as the only remaining opposition bodies on the ice could not be cut down from the net in time. The group made their way off their locker room to the continuing cheers of the widow Connard. With a huff, The Canadian stood up and made his way out of the seating area and headed for the stairs. Perhaps he'd underestimated this groop after all.