PURGATORY GAZETTE
SPORTS: Year Three Kickoff for Blue Devils in Purgatory
By: Jeremy Chetri
Season number three with Randy Nedley at the helm is about to kick off tonight for the Blue Devils. Back-to-back playoff berths have team morale high, but questions circle the team as the AB/BC Division has beefed up its competition this year. It's a revenge tour of sorts for the Devils this year, finishing third in the division a season ago before bowing out in the first round of the playoffs, losing to the Calgary Outlaws in five games.
It was a slow offseason for the Devils, just two roster moves to note—Lecia Wilson out (We wish her the best of luck in her retirement), Wynonna Earp in. So what does this mean for the hometown team? Head Coach, Randy "The Sheriff" Nedley, says that not having much roster turnover is good for team chemistry. "We'll call it cautiously optimistic," says Nedley, "There's a lot of work to be done to get where we wanna go, so it was nice to not have to spend valuable time on introductions." The newest member of the Devils is hardly a stranger—to the team or to the town. Earp is a born and bred Purgatorian and the arena bears the name of her great-great-grandfather. It's a part of her legacy, which is why she's been appropriately dubbed "The Heir" by her Blue Devils teammates. Earp notes that her chemistry with the team comes from the familiarity of working closely with the team since they moved in on day one, but especially her friendship with center, Nicole Haught.
The Blue Devils are hopeful for the return of the former Rookie of the Year and one-time league MVP. Haught's recovery has flown very much under the radar since her injury just under a year and a half ago, but Devils trainers, Rosita Bustillos and Kate Cummings, say that her progress is astounding. Team Doctor John Henry Holliday didn't disclose details, but suggested we could be seeing the return of Nicole Haught sooner rather than later. That is a far cry from the concern shared by many that the young star's injury would spell the end of her career. Haught herself notes a point in her rehabilitation where she feared she'd never walk normally again, let alone lace up her skates and play. Time will tell if her return will be the comeback story we all are wishing for.
Haught rejoining the lineup will certainly bolster a strong core, mixed with young talent and seasoned veterans. Shae Pressman is now entering her eighth season with the franchise, and third as team captain, coming off eager to finally reach the pinnacle of the league's success. "No time like the present to be the best," Pressman said at the team's media day earlier this week, "I'm excited. I can feel something special about this year. We're ready to show the league we're legit." Pressman's comment follows those made by Vance Kerr of the CEWHL Network, calling the Devils' historic record two seasons ago a "fluke" and calling Pressman out personally despite the career highs she had in multiple statistical categories. The team is no stranger to blatant criticisms and high expectations, team owner Bunny Loblaw still vocal as ever. Nedley has done his best to keep the team focused on the game and to quiet the noise, which has mostly been successful, Pressman's comment the only hint of a verbal rebuttal to Kerr's challenge.
Actions speak louder than words, and the Devils will have just the chance to do just that with their first shot at revenge when they face off against Calgary tonight. Tickets are sold out but fans can still catch the game locally on GRTV, or nationally on CBC and CEWHLN at 7:00 PM.
Wednesday, October 7th
"Special delivery!" Nicole called, entering the locker room, carrying a box that (believe it or not) was taller than her.
The rest of the team jumped to their feet, excited at the arrival of their new equipment—a fresh batch of special ordered sticks from Revenant brand. Each player was given two sticks—custom flex, custom blades—specific to their liking to use as a part of the team's new deal with the brand. The energy in the room as Nicole cut into the box was not unlike Christmas morning. The shipment of sticks had been delayed, so Wynonna figured that none of them would actually use the new ones in the game today, needing to get a couple practices in with the new twigs before breaking them out in game.
Their game was primetime, the first game of the season for the entire league, the main feature for Hockey Night In Canada. Right off the bat they were faced with a division rival with the Calgary Outlaws rolling into town. All eyes would be on Purgatory tonight, no other games going on across the league.
Wynonna couldn't wait.
"Ooh, boner alert," she said to Nicole as she approached her seat in her locker, not dressed for the game, but rather in a dapper grey number that had clearly been picked out by Waverly.
Twirling a bit, Nicole played into the brunette's comments, showing off her outfit.
"I guess I do clean up well," the redhead smirked as she sat down in her stall and nodded toward the baby blue jerseys that hung in the lockers of the rest of the team, "but I think I'd rather be wearing those."
"You'll be back out there rockin' it soon enough, Red."
Wynonna earned herself a smile from Nicole, knowing that the girl was on the precipice of being cleared for non-contact practice—a huge (and one of the final) step in returning to play. Doc had let it slip to her one night that he and Rosita were planning to give her the clear to go some time next week, but hadn't told the redhead just yet.
The rest of the team was busy playing with their new toys, trying to get the feeling of the pretty new sticks, rolls of tape being tossed around the room. They took their time, getting it just perfect. Each tape job was unique to its owner and just as sacred. (For a superstitious hockey player, the difference between a good game and a bad one may just come down to the TJ).
Wynonna sat in her stall in the locker room, her stick already taped and ready to go, running her thumb over the letters stitched onto the back of her new jersey, awestruck at just how much of her life could change in right around two years. She'd once thought this team would be more trouble than it was worth, but now here she was playing for that very same team. She never even thought she'd get an opportunity like this after she stopped playing after her junior year of high school, but the Devils were giving her a chance. She never thought she'd become best friends with the dorky, uptight redhead sitting in the stall next to her, but now she couldn't imagine it any other way.
Three knocks came on the locker room door a few minutes later, the rest of the team settling down as Nicole hopped up to allow entrance to whoever was knocking. The clock on the wall read just about 6 PM, so Wynonna figured there was only one man who that could be. When Nedley entered the room behind Nicole, she knew she'd been right. A respectful hush fell over the team at the sight of their coach, ready to listen to what he had to say to them.
"Alright, how're we feelin', ladies?" He asked, stoic as ever in his coachly, business-like tone. A series of hums and nods came from the team, an air of eager anticipation for the start of the season. "Good, now you know I ain't one for speeches, so I'll be brief. We've got a job to do, if you do it well and you do it the right way, well, there ain't no way in hell we're walking out of here tonight without a win."
"Yeahhhhhh," came a few cheers of agreement from the crew, and even more noise coming from clapping and the banging of hands on the stalls. Everyone looked ready, that much Wynonna was certain of.
"I believe Nicole's got a few words for you all now," Nedley called the redhead up to the center of the room, handing her a piece of paper.
"Well like Sheriff said," Nicole started, Nedley taking a step back to give her the attention, "we've got work to do. But I know for damn sure that when we do our jobs right, we're gonna put on a show out there. That team in the visitors' locker room, yeah they're tough, yeah they're good, but no one, not a single player on that team is tougher or better than anyone on this team. It's not gonna be handed to us, and it's hard work. But when you get tired and you're thinking about taking the easy way out of a play, think of how it felt to watch them celebrate—to watch them move on in the playoffs—on our ice, and use it. Use it as fire to do the work that needs to be done to make the right play."
She paused for effect, the team hanging on every word. Wynonna knew the redhead could be like a walking bumper sticker, sure, but this motivational leader was a side she was glad and not at all surprised to see. (She'd make fun of her for it later—sounding like the coach in every sports movie ever—but for now, it was just what the team needed). Nedley nodded along from behind her.
"As we kick off this season," her best friend continued, "think about all the work we've put in to get to this day. Think about the girl next to you, the one going into battle with you every night. If you can't get yourself up…"
So many jokes, she thought to herself, but didn't vocalize it. She was a professional in a professional environment, after all.
"…for a big rivalry, don't do it for yourself, do it for your teammates who've worked just as hard as you to get here. Now, we've all got a game to win, yeah?"
"Yeah!" The team chorused, Vic, Shan and Shae among the loudest voices.
"Time for the starters then. Drumroll please," Nicole said, eyeing the paper Nedley had given her. One of the things Wynonna missed most was the big dramatic reading of the starting lineup by one of the players on the team, a favorite hockey tradition of hers. The team took to banging on the bench seats in their stalls, anticipation building with each second they drew nearer to game time. "Starting on the left we got the fastest thing on skates, it's The Jet—it's Jenna Boardman!" The room erupted in cheers, the two adjacent players patting Jenna on the back, all hyped and ready to go. "In the middle, we got the one, the only Corine Saunders! And on the right…you know her…you love her…it's Captain Canada herself—Shae Pressman!" The team hollered especially loudly for Shae, the woman standing to take a bow after being coaxed into it, congratulations more than due after being picked to captain the National Team at the Olympics this coming February. "On defense, it's big four-nine, Hannah Hastings! Her partner in crime, she's as sweet as a peach 'til you get in her way—Georgia Thomas! And in between the pipes, we've got Lauren 'The Thriller' Miller!"
The team jumped up to their feet, led by Nedley's clapping, pushing the team to stand in a circle, right arms raised to the sky.
"Alright ladies, Devils on three—one, two, three!"
"DEVILS!" They chanted in unison, lining up to go out for warmups.
As the rookie, Wynonna was supposed to lead them out for the game, and moved to do so until she was stopped by Nicole, the redhead placing both her hands on Wynonna's shoulders.
"Nervous?" She asked.
"You obviously don't know me that well," Wynonna answered smugly. She was Wynonna Earp, she didn't get nervous. And even if she did, she sure as hell wouldn't get nervous over a child's game she was being paid to play as an adult.
"Right, my bad," Nicole waved it off as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Ready to go then?"
Wynonna nodded. "Clear eyes, full bra, can't lose."
"Definitely don't remember that in Friday Night Lights," Nicole rolled her eyes. Realizing they were waiting on Wynonna, she nudged her in the direction of the front of the line. "Go on, kick some ass. And maybe a little extra for me while I'm still out of commission."
The brunette pulled on her helmet and saluted her best friend, taking off toward her spot at the front of the line. Even before they reached the ice, she could hear the pumping of the music—the heavy guitar and bass rocking the arena and the fans only helping that along. She'd heard it enough times from the perspective of being in the arena, but never once from ice level.
She got herself a running start as she jumped onto the ice, taking her first strides on the freshly cleaned surface. It felt almost blasphemous to say that this moment was more thrilling, more adrenaline-inducing than riding the mechanical bull at Pussy Willows, but it was true. It took her a moment to realize she was skating her lap all alone. Rookie tradition, of course—the solo lap in your first game. She smirked to herself as she rounded behind the net, looking up into the crowd, eyes landing on the management box, her sister beaming proudly as she sat near Dolls (and very pointedly as far away from Bunny as physically possible). In the box next to theirs, the one reserved for players not in the lineup, Nicole stood beside Bell and O'Connell, ringing the cowbell she could vaguely hear—the one Wynonna'd brought to Edmonton that first season. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. She was here, and she had made it.
She wasn't sure she deserved it, but she sure as shit was going to prove everyone right for taking a chance on her. (Maybe even prove everyone who thought she'd never be anything more than a good-for-nothing lowlife wrong).
Warmup came and went, the squad going back to the locker room for one last bit of preparation before puck drop while Champ drove the Zamboni across the sheet.
She wasn't nervous, really. Of course she wasn't. There just may have been the faintest bit of butterflies in her stomach, a jittery shaking of her hands with each second they drew nearer to the game. Something about the idea of being something real, outside of a lovable troublemaker, felt so foreign to her. But she was ready.
The lights. The stomping and thundering of the crowd. The music. Perry Crofte's stupid voice introducing the names of her teammates one by one. Inching closer to the front of the line until…
"At center, number twenty-seven, Wynonna Earp!"
Taking her strides back onto the ice, she couldn't help the smile that split across her face. She found herself sandwiched between Williams and Thomas as Champ and Robin rolled out the carpet, Chrissy Nedley strolling across to sing.
Wynonna would be the first to admit that she didn't quite understand the necessity of playing the anthem before a game, but now that she was standing on the ice for it, there was no denying the added level of importance and intensity that it added to the event.
The anthem concluded and she took to the bench, sitting herself between her two linemates.
She'd snickered when Lonnie had written the lines on the board yesterday before practice. Wynonna had been alternating through lines throughout the preseason, the coaching staff trying to find the best line fit for her. Questioning Nedley's sanity when she saw it, she caught a glimpse of the mischievous smirk belonging to Vic Powers.
72—27—11.
(Otherwise known as Finning—Earp—Powers).
Waverly called it a "recipe for disaster" when she told her sister. Wynonna called saw it as more of a "recipe for fun".
Nedley called their names out for a line change somewhere around five minutes into the period, the Outlaws playing physically and dominating the puck. The wingers on either side of her looked her in the eye, the three of them nodding simultaneously. Wynonna held both her fists out, doing the handshake they'd agreed on like they hadn't just swiped it from D2: The Mighty Ducks. (She only wished she had a bandana to put on dramatically).
"Mac!" She called, swinging her leg over the boards and waiting for MacKinnon to come off the ice.
Once she did, something in her clicked, like a competitive edge kicking into the next gear. The puck was dumped into their offensive end, picked up by one of the Outlaw defenders to start their attack. Wynonna swiveled to skate backwards as the opposing offense attacked, staying with her mark and not giving her an inch of space to get the puck. When a scrum pinned the puck to the boards, Wynonna saw her chance, charging in and digging it out of the mess of sticks and skates and legs.
Her best option was to carry it out of the zone herself, take advantage of the open ice in front of her. Head up as she entered the neutral zone, she caught the defender fresh off a line change out of the corner of her eye. She managed to spin out of the way of the body check coming at her, sending her opponent into the boards.
"Missed me you stupid bitch," she chirped at the defender who was getting to her feet and readjusting her helmet after throwing her body weight into the wall.
Unfortunately, her brilliant escape move caused the puck to slide off her stick and her open ice advantage was gone. With the Outlaws recovering, Powers recovered her miscue and was left with no other option than to dump the puck into the offensive zone and go off for a line change.
Okay first shift, she thinks to herself, knowing it could be better.
Her next shift is when she gets to take her first faceoff as a pro. Not that she ever bragged about it, but she was kinda the shit at faceoffs. Which was why it came as no surprise that she won it easily, using her backhand to push it toward the offensive blue line.
The Devils set up shop in the attacking zone, moving the puck around, trying to open a seam to get a shot off. Calgary's defense was well-disciplined and worked well as a unit, denying the home team space to do anything dangerous. Wynonna found her way to the front of the net, getting herself tangled up with the defender there.
Annoyed with the woman breathing down her neck, she glanced quickly to see if the ref was watching before giving the bitch a quick elbow to the ribs and a healthy whack across her shins. It earned her a hard cross-check square in her back, knocking her to the ice. The referee's hand flew straight into the air, Miller skating hard to the bench for the extra attacker. They skated 6-on-5 and used the man-up situation to finally get a good shooting lane. The shot hit Wynonna's stick in front of the net, deflecting downward. The goalie was quick to react and smothered the rebound; the play stopped with the blowing of the referee's whistle.
The Outlaw defender Wynonna was locked up and looked completely flabbergasted as the referee pointed at her and led her to the penalty box. The brunette sniggered smugly as she skated to the bench watching the bitch pathetically plead her case that Wynonna "hit her first" and that she "didn't even do anything wrong."
She expected some sort of comment of praise for drawing a penalty as she took a bottle from in front of her, but instead, Nedley tapped her on the shoulder and looked at her sternly.
"Watch yourself," he said, "you got away with one there."
She nodded, waiting until his attention was turned back to the ice before she rolled her eyes. Maybe she had gotten away with a slashing penalty or an elbow, but someone had to bring the fight with the team trailing in the physicality department.
(Shae netted a one-timer set up by Mac and Hannah just as the power play expired. On the bench, Vic and Shan both gave Wynonna fist bumps for drawing the penalty that gave them the advantage in the first place).
Midway through the third, the Devils found themselves locked up in a 1-1 game. Both teams looked like they were stuck in a rut, going through the motions instead of actively competing. There was a clear need for a spark to get the game going as they approached what Nedley called Winnin' Time.
Enter Wynonna Earp.
"This game's a total snooze fest," Finning said as she turned to her linemates.
"Yeah," Vic agreed. "Ol' Willie's fast asleep in his seat."
"Willie's passed out drunk at every hockey game he's ever been to since 1975," Wynonna rebutted, shrugging, "but this shit is boring right now."
"Right, someone needs to get something goin'."
"Whaddya say we make something happen?" Wynonna suggested mischievously, sharing a sly smirk with the two women.
When Nedley sent the trio back out onto the ice with just about seven minutes left, they jumped over the boards, immediately zipping around the surface. A play in the neutral zone was the perfect opportunity to do what they just talked about. Shan funneled the forward to the left wing boards, allowing Wynonna and Vic to come in stride together-Powers shoving the Outlaw player off of the puck, Wynonna bending over at the waist to lay a hip check that literally sent the woman flying across the ice.
The crowd erupted at the first big play in what felt like ages and Wynonna shared a gleeful "Whoo!" at the play they made. Energized by the newly reengaged crowd, Finning laid a big hit on one of the Outlaws' bigger defenders, so big that it knocked the woman to the ice and forced her to drop her stick. The crowd got to its feet, yelling and hollering for its home team, fully back into the game.
Hansen carried the puck into the offensive zone and dropped it off to a trailing Vic Powers as she crossed the blue line. The Devils caught the visitors on an odd-man situation, 3-on-2 with Wynonna shading her way over to the left faceoff circle, right around the hash marks. Powers found her with ease, the saucer pass landing perfectly on her stick. Wynonna didn't even have to think twice, ripping her first shot of the game—of the season, of her career—right over the goalie's shoulder, perfectly placed between the raised glove and her ear. A snipe if she'd ever seen one.
Sheathing her stick like it was a sword, she celebrated as the horn blew throughout the arena. Powers charged at her, jumping up to chest bump her. The thumping of Tell That Devil added to the absolute rush she felt scoring her first professional goal; as she skated to the bench to high five her teammates, she looked up to see her sister jumping up and down and hugging (a very uncomfortable looking) Dolls, and Nicole standing and ringing the cowbell forcefully (not that anyone could hear it anyway).
Once the game finished, concluding with the Devils coming out victorious, Wynonna indulged in the spotlight of the interviewers buzzing to ask her about her game. The celebration carried on into the locker room, and as she finished her interviews, she made it just in time to burst through the door when All I Do Is Win bumped through the massive speaker placed in the center of the room. The team tossed their jerseys into the bin, elated to kick the season off with a win. It took Nedley more than a second to settle them down enough to give them the "Way to pull the win out, but there's a lot we need to work on" talk.
After post-game necessities were finished, Wynonna caught up with Nicole and Waverly in the lobby. She saw Nicole frown and hand Waverly a couple of bills just before she came into earshot, narrowing her eyes at the interaction. Nicole Haught losing a bet? Nicole Haught losing a bet to someone who wasn't her? Wynonna very clearly needed to get to the bottom of that.
"Woah, woah, woah, what's this?" She asked, scandalized, snatching the cash from her sister's hand. A $50 bet? That was her and Nicole's thing. "Is nothing sacred anymore?"
"Wynonna, give me that," Waverly huffed, taking the money back. "You're not the only one who can gamble, you know."
"So you two made a bet?"
"Yeah, and?"
"What was it on?"
"You," Nicole chimed in.
"What about me?" She asked, more intrigued than before.
"I bet Waverly fifty bucks that you'd get yourself suspended before you scored a goal," the redhead told her plainly.
"After all we've been through," she took her hand to her chest dramatically, feigning offense, "after all the time we spent together on the ice I'd figure you'd see that I'm a goal machine."
"You're also Wynonna Earp."
She pulled a face at Nicole, mocking her, but like fair enough she supposed.
"Whatever, thank you babygirl," she pulled her sister into a hug, "at least someone believes in me."
"I'm not spending any of this money to buy you booze," Waverly said, giving her a stern look. Wynonna pouted. "You've got money from the team to do that now."
CEWHL (CEWHL)
REAL LIFE BASH BROTHERS?—The Blue Devils' checking line of Finning, Earp, and Powers combine for a league record combined 42 penalty minutes and 27 hits in Saturday night's 3-2 loss in Victoria.
9 OCT—9:35 PM PST
PURGATORY BLUE DEVILS (bluedevilsCEWHL)
Just like great-great grandpappy, Wynonna Earp is the fastest draw in the West. Through four games, Earp leads the league in faceoff percentage (26-for-35, 74%) and has scored four goals on her only four shots this season.
14 OCT—1:00 PM MST
Stewie McCarthy (beefSTEW)
OLD TIME HOCKEY BABY! Never gonna stop watching these bluedevilsCEWHL games if they keep on giving us big hits and better fights
16 OCT—8:04 PM MST
Bunny Loblaw (BLoblaw_54)
1-4 through 5 games ? UNACCEPTABLE. Disgusted.
16 OCT—11:59 PM MST
Bunny Loblaw (BLoblaw_54)
Another HORRENDOUS showing for the team. Might just have to strap on some skates myself. Don't be surprised to see BIG changes coming SOON. ANY TEAMS OPEN TO TRADES?
17 OCT—2:16 AM MST
Bunny Loblaw (BLoblaw_54)
SERIOUSLY willing to trade ANY of these SCRUBS for $75 and a bag of potato chips #sorrynotsorry
17 OCT—3:27 AM MST
She lasts five whole games before she gets herself into real trouble. (Wynonna'd honestly surprised herself with that one—lasting longer than she thought she would).
Three days after their matchup with Sherbrooke, Wynonna found herself called into Nedley's office. When she found her sister there, she knew she was in for quite the talking to.
"Sit down," Nedley instructed without greeting her when she walked through the doorway.
"So, what's the haps?"
"We need to talk to you," Waverly said, still stern but not as gruff as Nedley had been.
Wynonna nodded, waiting for one of them to start.
"I'm pulling you off of the line with Powers and Finning," the Sheriff addressed her bluntly.
"What? Why?" She asked, shellshocked. "We've been playing so well together."
Nedley looked at her, the unamused look on his face singing his disagreement for him.
"You guys are taking too many penalties—boarding, roughing, interference penalties. You're playing for the big hit instead of making the play on the puck and those penalties are costing us games." He explained.
Well, you knew what you were getting when you put the three of us together.
She guessed, supposed that maybe, just maybe he'd been a little right about their play. Even though the Devils were leading the league in hits and physicality, they were dead last in Penalty Kill and had been issued more penalties than any other team this season so far. They'd been hanging around in games, but giving up goals late had been their Achilles heel, leading to losses in their last four games.
Nicole pulled her aside after their second loss and told her to play smarter, that she didn't always have to run around out there like a bat out of hell, but she couldn't really help it. Balls to the wall was kinda the only way she knew how to roll, and it had gotten her this far in life.
"Okay, so what, you're separating all three of us?"
"No, just you." What the fuck? "Powers and Finning are troublemakers, yeah, but they worked just fine together."
"We're having fun out there, isn't that part of the game?" She offered.
"Part of the job is also not actively costing the team games, Earp."
"Okay, so you're benching me?"
"No," Nedley said flatly and then ran his hand over his mustache like he couldn't believe what he was going to say next. "You're moving up. Left wing on the first line."
She choked on the air she was breathing in as he said it. Certainly she hadn't heard him correctly.
"Okay, yeah, good one. Tease the rookie," she said once she regained the ability to breathe. Nedley looked at her, not laughing. "You're serious?"
She was more than confused. Removing her from her linemates felt like a punishment, but being moved up to the top line was the literal definition of a reward.
"Unfortunately I am," Nedley sighed.
"What about Jenna?"
"She's been struggling to connect with Saunders and Pressman. She'll go down and play with Mac and Dani, and Jamie will center Powers and Finning."
"Why move me up, not down?" She asked, still struggling to wrap her head around the promotion/punishment.
"Frankly, I'm hoping Shae and Corine will be able to rein you in," Nedley said. Wynonna chuckled humorlessly. "I know Haught's been trying to talk some sense into you, too."
"She has."
"This is a last shot, Wynonna. You get your act together and play like a hockey player and not like a goon, or I'll have no choice but to sideline you indefinitely."
She narrowed her eyes, not a huge fan of ultimatums. But, if it came down to reining it in or getting benched, she guessed she'd suck it up and figure it out.
"Yeah, okay, got it." She looked over at Waverly as if remembering her presence. Was she here as a sister or as an Assistant GM?
"One more thing," the brunette spoke.
"Which is?"
"You're suspended for the next two games."
"Why the fuck?" She burst out.
"Woah, watch your mouth there, Earp," Nedley admonished (as if he didn't have an even dirtier mouth during his time in the NHL).
"Right, sorry. What the actual, flying fuck am I suspended for?"
Waverly looked at her like she should know exactly why she was being handed this sentence. "Off the top of your head, can you think of anything that may have happened last game that would warrant a suspension?"
The game against the Black Widows was the one she'd been looking forward to the most ever since she'd signed her contract. Even had it circled on her calendar in three differently colored pens. The fifth game of the season, on home ice, fire in her veins. (Rage that usually simply simmered just below her skin ready to boil over at the slightest provocation).
Everyone knew it, too. They knew what this game meant. It wasn't necessarily the team they were playing, but rather who was on it. Queen of Mean, a whole ass demon as Wynonna far as was concerned, Jolene DiMoni.
She hadn't forgotten and she knew she never would. How could she forget the vicious attack on the ice that almost cost her best friend her career and her life?
Nicole almost didn't make it to the game. She'd been pale, jumpy, seemingly on edge all morning. She didn't have to say anything for Wynonna to know that the redhead was ashamed of her fear of the woman. Waverly had gotten permission to sit near her girlfriend in the player box for the game, offering to hold her hand through the entire thing.
Wynonna sized Jolene up during warmups, the bitch looking every bit as devious as she had that night she hit Nicole. At one point, Jolene caught Wynonna's eye and smirked at her, blowing her a smug, sassy kiss.
"I'm gonna kill her," she growled to Vic beside her. "I swear to god I'm gonna do it."
"Say the word and I'll back you up," her linemate bumped her on the shoulder, ready to kick someone's ass in the name of solidarity.
By the time the game rolled around, she was more than amped to completely bulldoze that woman if she so much as looked at her the wrong way. Nobody fucked with Wynonna Earp's family and got away with it.
Wynonna wasn't on the ice for Jolene's first shift, but she seethed at the way the woman skated around with reckless abandon, crunching Jamie into the boards well after the play had moved elsewhere and skating away like nothing happened.
It was early in the second period before Wynonna found herself matched up against the bitch herself. She'd had a sneaking suspicion that Nedley had been keeping her off the ice while Jolene was out there, knowing what was likely to go down if they were on at the same time. However, an icing call forced Wynonna, Shan, and Vic to stay out while Coach Clootie from the Black Widows sent Jolene to take the faceoff. As they settled over the faceoff dot, Jolene looked up at her and smirked again.
"You're the one that's been talking big shit about how much you hate me, eh?" Jolene said.
"You're the bitch that tried to murder my best friend, eh?" She shot back.
"You wanna hit me, don't you?" She taunted.
"It's on the list."
"You're all talk, no action."
"I'll fucking kill you," she growled, eyes on the arm of the referee, waiting for him to drop the puck in his hand.
"I'd like to see you try," Jolene smirked smugly, swiping the puck away as it was dropped.
Wynonna followed the woman around, marking her, not letting her near the puck, clearly frustrating her. Tangled up in front of the net, Jolene shoved her roughly, knocking Wynonna slightly off balance. Catching herself before she fell, she steadied herself and came back with a forceful cross-check, breaking her stick across Jolene's back.
Not able to argue her innocence with her stick broken in pieces, Wynonna was sent to the penalty box to serve a two-minute cross-checking minor as a linesman brought her a new stick from the bench. She was forced to watch Jolene net a power play goal and fought the urge to clock her right then and there when the bitch fucking winked at her as she exited the penalty box.
"Fucking stupid fucking bitch," she grumbled under her breath as she slammed the bench door and plopped herself onto the seat.
"A short temper never did nobody a bit of good," Doc rested a hand on her shoulder from behind her. "Do not let her win. She ain't worth it."
With a minute left in the second, Wynonna found herself back out on the ice with Jolene's line, the Devils possessing the puck in the attacking zone. Aware of exactly where she was, she raced Jolene to a puck deep in the right corner. In a measure of revenge, Wynonna laid a heavy (but clean) hit on the center, knocking her to the ice.
"How'd'you like that one, bitch?" She taunted, catching a glimpse of Gus giving her a nod of approval from her seat on the other side.
The pair traded a few more animosity-laced moments before the bad blood reached a boiling point.
The Devils found themselves trailing 4-0 late in the third, morale low and tensions high for many of them. A puck flipped up on edge and deflected out of play over the glass, causing a stoppage in play and allowed Champ and a couple ice crew members to scrape some of the built-up snow off of the ice. Wynonna sat on the bench, staring down Jolene and wondering if she could make her face look angry enough to physically burn a hole through the nasty woman's head.
As if summoned by the devil himself, Jolene tauntingly skated by the Blue Devils bench on the way to her own.
"Well I'd say we're beating you down worse than what I did to that Haught bitch," she said, shrugged, and then skated away nonchalantly. It was over the line, but she clearly knew that. It was probably why she'd said it in the first place.
Not even wasting a second to think about what she was doing, Wynonna hopped up over the boards and skated over toward Jolene. Somewhere in the back of her consciousness she heard her teammates calling after her to come back to the bench, but she was seeing red and the only thing she could hear was the blood pumping in her ears. She removed her gloves, reached her hand out, tugged on Jolene's shoulder, and spun her around roughly.
Jolene almost looked like she was expecting it, if the smug smirk she wore was any indication. "Aww, did I say something to upse—"
Wynonna didn't let her finish her sentence, winding up and socking her square in the jaw.
"You fucking piece of shit," she growled, landing another punch to Jolene's jaw.
Recovering from the initial shock, Jolene steadied herself on her feet and tried to swing. Well-versed in bar fight self-defense, Wynonna dodged the attempted punch. She used her opponent's momentum against her, tearing off Jolene's helmet and pulling on her jersey to land four, five, six quick body shots, the tugging just about pulling Jolene's jersey up over her head.
To her credit, Jolene worked her way out of a tough position by using her leg to kick Wynonna's out from underneath her, causing both of them to crash to the ice, still throwing their hands around.
"Man, you suck at this," Jolene said, flipping their positions so she was on top and throwing punches, "Is everyone on this team as weak as you and your friend?"
"Fuck you," she spat, dodging a punch and rolling them onto their side, trying to stand up. "You're the weakest goddamn person in this building."
The referees jumped in, trying to break them apart. They succeeded in getting the pair to their feet, both of them tugging angrily on each other's equipment, jockeying for the upper hand. (Both jerseys had fallen casualty to the violence of the on-ice scrap).
"Not likely," Jolene shouted over the shoulder of the referee holding her back, "considering how I just about killed the redhead. She's lucky I didn't get to finish the job."
The one part of her restraint that was still intact snapped. Wynonna shoved the man blocking her path out of her way with Hulk-like ease, racing over to Jolene to grab her again. She threw her punches over the other referee who was doing his best to keep them apart, but found himself pushed out of the way just as easily as his partner.
"I hope you rot in hell," Wynonna growled loud enough for Jolene to hear over the right hook she landed across her cheekbone. "You no good, rotten," she yelled, knocking them back onto the ice, connecting a few consecutive blows now, "motherfucking cu—"
She was about to land a finishing haymaker on the woman when she felt three people pulling her off of her opponent. Two of them held her arms back while the third stood in front of her trying to get through to her.
"Wynonna, stop, it's done," the one blocking her path looked her dead in the eyes, pushing the four of them back toward the Devils bench and away from the altercation. "You did good." Coming back to her senses a bit, Shae became more in focus and her vision was less red; she registered Powers and Finning behind her as the ones holding her arms back and the roaring of the crowd, clearly loving the show.
"Okay, so maybe that deserved a suspension," she agreed, knowing leaving the bench was a big no-no. "But two games?"
"Wynonna," Waverly said, looking at her, non-verbally saying, "Really?"
She bit back her smirk, looking at the bruises on her knuckles. "Whatever, it was definitely worth it."
(At the very least, it earned her a nod and a short flash—so quick you'd miss it if you blinked—of a smile from Nedley).