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Darkseeker
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please do not post here if you're not EOTW or Nekros!Edited at February 19, 2026 07:05 PM by Essence of the Wolf |
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Darkseeker
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Seven in the morning, Lukas pushes open the door to his local indoor ice rink. He enters the locker room and drops his phone onto the bench beside him, exhaling slowly. The rink is quiet this early-just the hum of the lights and the distant scrape of a Zamboni finishing its rounds. Lukas prefers mornings like this. No noise. No pressure. Just ice.
He pushes off, gliding across the fresh sheet, taking a slow lap before picking up speed. His edges bite cleanly as he shifts into crossovers, then quick stops, then blue line sprints.
For the first time in a long time, his mind wanders as he skates. The draft picks for the 2014 hockey season are scheduled to be released sometime today. Lukas feels a strong pressure to support his family and make them proud, that's part of the reason he's so focused on hockey. This draft pick means a lot to him.
After forty minutes, sweat clings to the back of his neck despite the cold air. He finally steps off the ice, peeling off his gloves and helmet, chest rising and falling hard. He checks the time. 8:47 a.m.
He still has his usual routine-quick lift session upstairs, protein bar, then back home to shower. Waiting around would drive him insane.
An hour later, he's back in his apartment kitchen, towel slung over his shoulder, hair still damp from the shower. He grabs a bowl, pours cereal without really looking, and stares at his phone on the counter like it might explode.
Nothing.
He exhales sharply and finally picks it up, opening his email again.
Still nothing.
"Come on," he mutters.
As if on cue, the screen refreshes. A new message appears.
His stomach drops.
He freezes for a second before tapping it open.
---
Mr. Wolfgang Adler,
On behalf of the Chicago Blackhawks, we are pleased to inform you that you have been selected in the 2014 National Hockey League Draft.
Your performance, discipline, and leadership on and off the ice have set you apart. We believe you will be a valuable addition to our organization and look forward to your development within our system.
Please report to the United Center on July 1, 2014 at 9:00 AM for team orientation and training camp preparation.
Welcome to Chicago.
Sincerely,
Daniel Mercer
General Manager
Chicago Blackhawks
---
Lukas reads it once.
Then twice.
Then a third time just to be sure the words don't rearrange themselves.
A disbelieving laugh escapes him, half breathless, half stunned. He drags a hand down his face before grabbing his phone and immediately dialing.
His dad picks up on the first ring.
"Well?" His dad says in a thick German accent. His parents know a lot of English but struggle to speak it and typically speak to Lukas and Emilia in German.
Lukas grins, staring out the kitchen window at nothing and everything all at once.
"Well I better start looking at flights to Chicago."
A sharp inhale on the other side of the line, then? Explosion. Cheers erupt and Lukas can pick out the sound of his dad, mom, and sister, screaming and hollering. Lukas smiles into the phone.
"Wir sind so stolz auf dich, Liebling!" (We're so proud of you, honey!) "Wir lassen dich jetzt gehen, aber halte uns auf dem Laufenden. Wir wussten, dass du es schaffst!" (We'll let you go now but update us along the way. We knew you could do it!)
Lukas says his goodbyes and hangs up. He looks down at his two dogs, Koda and Nala who had jumped up to explore the loud noises coming from his phone. He smiles and grabs Nala's two front paws, dancing around his small kitchen. He better start packing soon. |
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He laughs out loud, oh my god, he was just drafted. He ignores the strange looks from strangers as he starts back towards his house. He dials his mother, and as soon as she picks up. "Ronan? What, have you heard back? Did you get any news? Did you get in? Who drafted you? How--" He chuckles, "Mom! Calm down." Amelia takes a deep breath,"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. But still, tell me everything." The cool air feels good on his skin as he strolls back to his house, phone pressed against his ear. "I got the email." A bated breath, Amelia whispers,"Okay?" A smile splits his face, "I got drafted for the Toronto Maple Leafs."
He pulls the phone away from his ear as his mother lets out an ear piercing scream. "Mom!" Amelia laughs, "I'm sorry sweetie, I'm just so excited for you. This is incredible news, I knew you could do it." He couldn't keep the grin off of his face, "Thanks, Mom. I can't believe I got picked." Amelia starts rattling, "We'll have to see if anyone sponsors you, then we'll also have to see how the public will handle you. You know how to deal with the media don't you? Oh, do you think you'll need any security protocols?"
He snorts as he turns up his street, "Mom! I literally just got drafted. I still hav to sign, go through documents, meet the team, things like that." His mom gets a little sheepish, "Sorry, sorry. I'll chill out." His lips curve into another smile as he walks up the sidewalk to his front door. "Yeah, yeah." Suddenly his mother gets a little weepy, "Your father would be so proud." His smile instantly drops as he enters his house. "Yeah, yeah he would." A quiet click of the door shutting behind him, "I miss him." His mother quietly states, "I miss him too. It's still hard to believe he's gone."
"It is, hey, listen. After training and stuff, but before the season starts. I'll fly out, come visit you and Dad." Amelia murmurs, "That would be nice, honey. I can't wait." The two continue to talk, the mood getting a little lighter as he kicks his shoes off in the entryway and tosses his keys on the kitchen counter. "Okay, Mom, I'm gonna make some food and then head to the gym, but I'll keep you updated on the process." He shifts his phone to the other ear. "Sounds good, sweetie. Good luck with everything. I love you so much."
He digs in the fridge, "I love you too, Mom. I'll talk to you later, bye." There's a quiet beep that signals the phone call was over. He stands there for a moment, staring in the fridge blankly. A huge sigh heaves his shoulders before he slides his phone into his pocket. Then he digs out some chicken, a grilled chicken salad sounded amazing at the moment.
Twenty minutes later, he's sitting at his dining table with his computer in front of him. Eating his salad while working on his computer. He answers emails, responding to the draft one specifically, thanking them for the opportunity. Then he shifts over to the website and scrolls through it. His eyes scanning the screen as he falls down a rabbit hole, finding himself on the team's social media next. Good, he could start to learn everybody's names and information. He'd briefly researched each team that had been in the conference he was aiming for, but now that he knew exactly what team he was playing for. He could research them a little deeper.
Hm, their former star center had retired at the end of last season. The reason that they had picked him, apparently. Hayden Hault. Ah, that was a popular name in the NHL. He had been a phenomenl center. Ronan groans as he finishes his salad, god, those were going to be some shoes to fill. |
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Darkseeker
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The kitchen suddenly feels too small. Chicago. The words echo in his head as he releases Nala’s paws and lets her drop back onto all fours. Koda barks once, tail thumping against the cabinets like she understands that something big just happened. “Guess we’re going to Chicago,” Lukas mutters, running a hand through his damp hair. He moves fast after that. Too fast. The adrenaline hasn’t worn off it’s settled into his chest, buzzing under his ribs. He disappears into his bedroom and yanks his suitcase from the top shelf of the closet. It lands on the bed with a heavy thud. For a second, he just stares at it. This isn’t a tournament. This isn’t a weekend road trip. This is the beginning. He unzips it and starts packing. Training gear first. Compression shirts. Practice jerseys. Extra laces. His worn-in gloves, he hesitates over those before carefully placing them inside like something fragile. Skates go in last, blades wrapped in guards. He pauses at his dresser. On top sits a small framed photo-him at sixteen, gap-toothed grin, standing between his parents in the stands of his first junior championship. His dad’s arm is around his shoulders. His mom’s eyes are red from crying. He picks it up, studies it for a moment. “Wir haben es geschafft,” he murmurs softly. We made it. The frame goes into the front pocket of the suitcase. He moves through the apartment one last time, checking chargers, passport, wallet. His phone buzzes again-texts flooding in now that the announcement must have gone public. Unknown numbers. Former teammates. Old coaches. Chicago Blackhawks. The logo flashes through his mind-sharp, bold, new. By noon he’s in a car headed toward the airport, city streets blurring past the window. His knee bounces the entire ride. He keeps rereading the email like it might vanish. Report to the United Center. July 1. 9:00 AM. -note: mini time skip here, I just wanted to get him to Chicago and settled in so we can move on ^^'- The plane lands in Chicago under a wide stretch of summer sky. The air feels heavier here—warmer, thicker than home. He steps outside the terminal with his bag slung over his shoulder and pauses. New city. New team. New life. The drive downtown makes his chest tighten. And then he sees it. United Center It rises out of the city. Banners hang outside. The Blackhawks logo sits proudly above the entrance. His stomach flips. He pays the driver, steps out onto the pavement, and just stands there for a second with his suitcase at his side. This is where legends played. This is where Stanley Cup banners hang. He adjusts the strap on his bag and walks toward the doors. Each step feels heavier than the last. Inside, the building hums with quiet activity-staff members moving briskly, the faint echo of skates somewhere deeper in the arena. The air smells like ice and rubber mats and something distinctly professional. He gives his name at the front desk. The woman behind it smiles knowingly. “Welcome to Chicago, Lukas.” The words hit differently in person. A staff member leads him down a hallway lined with framed photos. Championship teams, captains lifting the Cup, moments frozen in time. Lukas walks slower than he needs to, eyes scanning every frame. One day. He tightens his grip on his bag. The locker room door opens. A few other athletes are arriving at the same time as him, some look familiar. Inside, fresh lockers wait-jerseys neatly folded, nameplates already printed. Wolfgang Adler. Printed in large letters above his locker. Blackhawks colors. His breath catches. For the first time since reading that email, the reality fully settles in. This isn’t just a draft pick. This is home now. |
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He sighs as he gets up, looking around. The house was pratically empty, not only did he not keep a lot of things, but he had already been packing. Tornoto wasn't that far away, but it was far enough away that he didn't want to have to drive back and forth every single day. It wouldn't be hard for him to sell the house, and he could start scouting for houses now. He made plenty playing for Nottingham, and he made some more here and there doing hockey camps. He rubs his face, tomorrow and the next couple of days would be very long.
Time Skip
He pulls into the driveway of his new house, turns out the housing market in Toronto really wasn't too bad. Thankfully, his truck had enough room for all of his things. He did have to take two loads, but better than having to rent a trailer, and it let him get a better chance to know the route. He glances at the time, seven AM, good that gave him an hour and a half to get the last load inside and head over to the stadium. As he gets out of his truck, he opens his maps and types in Scotiabank Arena, good it was barely ten minutes away.
He sticks his headphones in, turns up his music and starts hauling boxes inside. The new house was pretty big, one floor but abou 2,500 square foot, and secluded. It was situated outside of town, but not so far in the country the time to drive to town would be annoying. It was a nice house. Modern-designed, and had cost about one million. It had three bedrooms and four bathrooms, three of the bathrooms were connected to the bedrooms, and then one could be for people who just came over to hang out.
The other two bedrooms could be guest rooms and the master bedroom was tucked into the back giving it a little privacy. It had a great security system. There was a home office, a huge room he could use for a gym. The pool out back, man it was a really nice house, especially for the price. Finally, after an hour all of the boxes are inside. He glances at his watch, that gave him a half hour to shower real quick and get changed into something that seemed a little better to meet the coaches and team officially.
Forty Five Minutes Later
Ronan runs a hand through his hair as he gets out of his truck, he just parked in the team only parking lot at the arena. He glances up, Scotiabank Arena, wow it was enormous and beautiful. It honestly took his breath away, he could not believe that he was about to play in this arena. This arena was legendary, amazing. He could see the huge banners that listed all of the awards the team had won. On one of the huge electronic display boards was a picture of Hayden Hault, with the headlines: Hayden Hault set to retire, he will be greatly missed and his legacy will live on.
He takes a deep breath before heading inside, he is met by the front desk, and the guy sitting at it looks up. "Ronan Wycliffe?" He flashes a brief smile,"Yes, that's me." The guy nods, "Give me just a moment." He presses something on his headpiece and states, "He's here." Then the guy looks back at Ronan, "Coach Williams will be here in just a second." And sure enough, barely five minutes later Elijah Williams was walking up, "Mr. Wycliffe?" He turns, Elijah Williams. Legendary head coach of Tornoto Maple Leafs. Ronan sticks his hand out for a handshake, "Hello, sir." Williams shakes his hand, "It's wonderful to finally meet you."
Ronan smiles, "Same here, sir." Williams beckons, "Come on, practice will let out in a second. Why don't you come see the locker room real quick? Then you can meet the team." He nods, excited. He's already gotten dozens of texts from the team, welcomes, and even added to the team group chat. Not to mention the dozens of texts from his former team and former coaches all congratulating him. He follows Williams to the locker room, taking a moment to take it in. Wow, it was huge, and there. There was his name; Ronan Wycliffe. |
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Darkseeker
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The locker room inside the United Center hums with low conversation and the dull thud of equipment being set down. Skates tapping against rubber flooring. Laughter from somewhere to his left. He steps fully inside. A few heads turn. One of the veterans,broad shoulders, graying beard, the kind of presence that fills a room without trying, leans back in his stall and studies him for half a second. “Adler, right?” Lukas straightens automatically. “Yes, sir.” That earns a chuckle. “Relax. It’s not boot camp. I’m Mason.” The guy stands, offering a firm handshake. “Welcome to Chicago. I've heard all about you." Lukas grips back just as firmly. “Thank you.” He flashes a grin. Another player swivels around in his chair. “You’re the German kid, yeah? Saw your international tape. You’ve got skills.” A small smirk pulls at Lukas’ mouth. “I try.” More introductions follow-quick, solid handshakes, eye contact held just long enough to establish respect. A few shoulder claps. One guy jokingly bumps his arm and says, “Don’t worry, rookie. We’ll teach you how to survive winter here.” Lukas lets out a short laugh, tension easing a fraction. The door opens again. Conversation quiets almost instantly. Daniel Mercer,the general manager from the email, steps in alongside Head Coach Carter. Mercer’s eyes find him immediately. “Adler-or should I say Eagle." Lukas straightens immediately, a flash of surprise across his face. Mercer extends his hand. “Good to finally meet you in person. I've heard all about your nickname from our friend here, Baker." Lukas gasps in surprise as his childhood bestfriend and old teammate, Benjamin Baker, steps into the locker room wearing his same old smug grin. "My man!" Ben pumps a fist into the air and hoots in celebration, grasping Lukas' hand and pulling him into a hug. Lukas blinks, frozen for a moment. "Arschloch" Lukas mutters with a huge smile. "You told me you hadn't gotten drafted yet!" Ben shrugs, "Thought I'd surprise you." Daniel clears his throat and Lukas and Ben quickly separate, both turning to face the coaches again. Coach Carter sizes him up in that assessing way coaches have-measuring posture, composure, how he carries himself. “Heard a lot about your work ethic. We like players who don’t need babysitting.” Lukas nods once. “You won’t have to worry about that.” A beat. Coach Carter’s mouth tilts slightly. Approval. “Good. You two skate light today. Get your bearings. We’ll see where you slot in.” Slot in. The words send a small spark through his chest. --- Practice is faster than he expects. Not just speed but in precision. The puck movement is crisp, unforgiving. He misses one reception by half an inch and the puck snaps off his blade. He adjusts immediately. Next drill, he drives harder. Wins a race to the boards. Snaps a clean shot top shelf that rings off the inside bar before dropping in. A few whistles. Someone taps their stick against the ice. “Okay, Adler,” Mason calls out. “We see you.” Heat climbs up the back of Lukas’ neck—but he doesn’t smile. He just circles back into position. He looks over to see Ben across from him.
It feels good to have a friend on the ice. --- After practice, sweat-soaked and adrenaline buzzing, he’s toweling off when one of the defensemen, Tyler, leans over from the next stall. “D'know if you heard but next week is our team building." He speaks with a slight southern twang. "We all fly out to Ontario, it's covered by the team. Coach'll send out details in the group chat. Hope to see you there.” Lukas nods with a slight smile, he seems to be fitting right in. -note: I think both teams should have some "team building weekend" or something in Ontario and one of the nights they happen to go to the same bar/restaurant then they can meet!- |
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Then one of the far door opens, and the locker room gets loud. All of the players flooding in to get ready for practice. Names fly through his head as Ronan watches them enter. Wow, this was an honor, lot of them were incredibly skilled on the ice and well known in the NHL. And, oh my god, was that... Hayden Hault. He just walked in too, with the goalie, Daniel Hawthorne. Williams nods to Hault, "I assume you know him." Ronan nods, "Yes, sir, Hayden Hault. One of the greatest centers in the NHL in the last decade." Suddenly, Hault's voice interrupts them.
"Seems that my reputation preceeds me."
Hayden was in front of them now, nodding at Williams, "Sorry, Coach. I heard that the new kid was coming in today for his first practice and I wanted to meet him and see how he played." Williams grins, "Course, no problem." Hayden glances back to Ronan, "So you're my replacement, eh?" Ronan shakes Hayden's out stretched hand, "Ronan Wycliffe. And um, I highly doubt I'll be able to replace you, you're incredibly skilled. But I'll do my best." A smile touches Hayden's lips, "Humble, I like it." Hayden crosses his arms across his chest. "And from what I've heard, it sounds like you're underestimating yourself."
Williams calls out, "Okay, team!" Hayden retreats, throwing a, "Good luck, rook." Over his shoulder. The team quiets down as they sit down to face their coach. "As you all know, we have some fresh blood today." Whoops rise, they always liked fresh blood. "Welcome Ronan Wycliffe, the NHL's number two pick. And England's Elite Ice Hockey League's number one pick." Ronan flushes, god, he hated being the center of attention like this. Shouts of welcome and some teasing remarks are fired his way. Williams grins, "You guys will get to see his skill today, he'll join you guys on the ice today for his first official practice."
-Thirty Minutes Later-
Wham. He slams one of his new teammates, Jacob Kingston, into the wall as he steals the puck. His quietness and shyness had faded off by now, he was on the ice, in his element. Sporting the blue and white colors of the Tornto Maple Leafs, oh hell yeah it felt good to be back in the rink. Williams shouts, "Way to be aggressive, Wycliffe!" It's reflex, instinct, as he flies across the ice with the puck. Teammates come at him from left to right, but he dodges them with ease, before firing the pack to one of his teammates. Yes! God, he couldn't even describe how much he'd missed playing hockey.
He cuts a sudden 180 to avoid Jacob who was coming back for venegance. Jacob laughs as he flies past him, missing him by inches, "Sweet moves, Wycliffe. Fancy feet work." Ronan hides a smile as he shoots off for the net, knocking another teammate out of the way. The left wing, Henry, shouts, "Wycliffe!" Ronan has a second to react as the puck comes flying across the ice towards him. Without a moment of hesitation, he does his signature move. The puck is still meters away and he's already in motion, body poised, eyes moving from the puck to the net, perfect.
His stick collides with the puck just as it reaches him, ricocheting off of his stick like a bullet as it fires towards the goal. Hell yes! As the puck flies past the goalie and slams into the net. Shouts rise into the air and Ronan forces himself to remain calm. Hell yes!! Williams blows the whistle, end of practice. "Hell of a play, Wycliffe!"
He stands with the other players as they get the end of practice talk, chewing on his mouth piece as he listens. But, back in the locker room, the energy is awesome. Everybody keeps clapping him on the back, they seem excited to have him on the team. Finally, Jacob walks over. "You are a hell of a player, Cliff." Ronan tugs his shirt back on, "Cliff?" Jacob shrugs, "Easier than Wycliffe." Ronan blinks once, twice, then nods, "Thanks." Jacob sighs, "I think I'll have bruises for weeks from you." Ronan grimaces, "Sorry."
Jacob laughs, "Oh no, as long as you keep that aggression in our games? All is forgiven." Jacob leans against the locker beside Ronan. "But, aside from that. At the beginning of every season, it's tradition for the coaches to fly the team out to Ontario for a weekend." Ronan grabs his keys, "Oh, that sounds fun?" Jacob nods, "It is, we get a bunch of team bonding, especially whenever we have fresh blood. So, what do you say? You down?" Ronan pockets the rest of his things, "Yeah, yeah, I'm down. That sounds like fun." Jacob pumps his fist, "Hell yeah!"
(I'm down with that^^ Like just a weekend or whole week?) |
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Fall Month: 3 
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