The Enforcers Code

Freedom, Freedom for Dean Portman meant one thing being on the ice, the wind through his hair and heavy metal pounding like a heartbeat in his ears, just skating. Hockey, hockey was what he lived and breathed, school as always was too boring, and his only other outlet was really music.

But hockey was his first love, he lived and breathed the sport, he spent almost the majority of his free time, when not plucking at his acoustic guitar, training in the gym or running drills on the ice perfecting his skills.

He wasn't a poor kid, though the way he dressed you would never know, his parents did well at work. He never wanted for anything, even if they sometimes complained about robbing Peter to pay Paul.

He was popular at school when he attended, he steered clear of the gangs in school as best he could. Still, he had clashed with them once or twice, all in all, he was what many would deem a good kid, once you got to know him.

Most would take one look at the leather jacket, the ripped jeans, the bandana and the heavy metal t-shirts, and for better or worse they would immediately label him as a bad guy. But he didn't care about any label outside of one, enforcer, that was the closest one to his hart.

He was proud of that label, he was 'THE' Enforcer, he was the law on the ice. He was the guardian of his team and the on-ice bodyguard of his captain. Everybody in the division knew Portman of the Morgan Park Stallions was no one to mess with, and if you tried to take advantage of one of the Stallions, there would be harsh retribution.

(Chicago district junior hockey championships)

"This is it, we're down to the last minute of the third period of this hard-hitting game." said the announcer "and the Morgan Park Stallions are dominating the Falcons completely...Oh and there goes number 22, Dean Portman, again clearing the way he is having one heck of a game." the crowd roared as Dean cleared the path for his smaller teammate. "Mackinnon passes back to Portman, he shoots he scores." he thundered as the buzzer blared. "That's all, as the buzzer blares its Stallions 8, the Falcons 0 The Cinderella story torn asunder. There will be no Minnesota Ducks here as the Stallions claim the district championship, and for the fifth year in a row the Dynasty continues."

Dean stared at the goaltender for a few moments before shaking his head. He turned and skated away his head hung slightly in disappointment as his bench emptied with cheering players. They all converged on him smacking him on the back and embracing each other in joyous triumph.

It only took a few minutes for the Ref to appear in front of the black-uniformed team in his offhand a large trophy. He shook the hand of the captain and the coach then handed the trophy to them. There was a second explosive cheer and the black-uniformed Stallions celebrated by circling the rink hoisting the tall silver trophy cup high.

They all seemed amazingly pleased. All that is but Dean who quietly made his way back to locker room head still hung in shame. He was tired, bruised and quite frankly didn't feel like celebrating beating a team that was so far beneath them in skill. There was no honour in that kind of win and no fun at all.

He showered, dried and changed quickly not waiting to hang around for his team as they entered still on a high from the comfortable victory, the sense of shame never leaving him as he left, he wore heavy combat boots jeans a Metallica t-shirt and leather jacket. Still, just as he was gone the locker room, he heard.

"Excuse me, Mr Portman." Dean stopped for a second and looked around for his dad thinking the man must be looking for him, but his dad was nowhere in sight "Mr Dean Portman." ok now Dean was uncomfortable.

"Yeah who wants to know?" The man was meek-looking with grey curly hair Dean was taller than him witch wasn't strange to him as Dean was taller than everyone in his age group and the two above it at school so looking down was normal for him, the man wore a brown work shoes, grey trousers, a white shirt, a dark blue tie and a green tweed blazer, all in all, the man looked a shambles he held out his hand for Dean to shake

"Congratulations on you win Mr Portman" Dean couldn't quite place the man's accent

"It was a garbage win," Dean said, "against a garbage team that shouldn't have even made it this far."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, son."

"Who are you anyway, dude."

"I'm Don Tibbles Hendrix hockey apparel." the handshake was limp and week and felt wrong for any man. The handshake, as Dean was taught, was one of the most important things a man could have. It was the cornerstone of any greeting and needed to be strong. Each one told you about the person behind it, a limp one was a disgrace and meant that the man had no pride, Dean released the hand discreetly wiping it against his trousers.

"What do ya want?"

"I want you," whoa their Dean thought. "for Team USA." Dean mentally sighed in relief

"I'm not sure I know what you're asking me."

"Hendrix Hockey is sponsoring Team USA for the Junior Goodwill Games, and we want you on our team."

Dean was momentarily stunned by the sudden proclamation and didn't move until a shout came from behind him

"Dean!" it was his mom

"Hi Ma" he smiled as she hugged him, she wore jeans black flat shoes and a red woollen jumper

"Grate game son" she smiled "come on, your dad's in the car waiting in the car" she moved them to walk away when

"Ah Mrs Portman, I'm Don Tibbles of Hendrix Hockey Apparel" he moved to shake her hand which she accepted after a slight hesitation

"Janet Portman," she said uncomfortably to the strange man

"I was just talking to your son here" Janet immediately became suspicious of the man

"Really"

"Yes, I was just saying how Hendrix Hockey would like to recruit him for team USA." Janet was stunned sure Dean had had scouts come to him before, but that was for future collages never for the country as a whole. "I can see you're a little overwhelmed with this, so why don't we go somewhere to discuss this properly."

"Dean's father is waiting in the car, you could follow along to our house where we can discuss this properly" the man nodded and headed off with them.

The Portman family car was a gunmetal grey ford sedan. Not exactly new but not old either, as they approached, they noticed a black limousine pull up behind the gunmetal grey car.

"That's my car." said Mr Tibbles "I'll follow on," he said as he headed towards the limo, leaving the mother-son duo to sort themselves out. Dean opened the boot of his dad's car and dumped his large kit bag into it slamming it shut. He entered through the driver's rear passenger.

"Your mom was telling me that you got another offer just now." His Dad said looking through at him through the rear-view mirror.

Dean looked in the rear-view mirror his brown eyes looking into his father's blue ones.

"Yeah, some executive or other wants me to join their team or something."

Dean's dad just nodded, the drive home wasn't anything particular they chatted about the game and Dean's school who was once again upset with Dean for only turning up for three days last week, they pulled up to their driveway.

"I know, I know," said Dean as he opened the door

"it's not about knowing Dean it's about doing." said his father as he exited the car and closed the door. Deans door as he went to the boot to help him with his bag. "you are a smart kid, smarter than I was at your age" he said as they lifted the bag out together.

"but you need to turn up to school more than, yeah now, just whenever you feel like." behind them, they heard the tell-tale sound of a car door opening then another.

"Mr Portman" the two turned to see Mr Tibbles coming towards them "Don Tibbles of Hendrix Hockey Apparel" he held out his hand to shake, and when Mr Portman grabbed the hand and shook, he gave his son a knowing look.

"You, the man who gave my son the offer."

"Yes"

"Well I'm Donald Portman," he said "but please call me Don," he said as he released his hand "we better get inside before Janet has my head" he laughed as the three made their way into the house.

The living room in the Portman house was a simple one. A brown leather recliner witch Dean's father claims as his throne, and a four-person leather couch. Another recliner witch dean claimed as him, there is a coffee table in the centre of the room, and the TV sat behind that. There is light beach hardwood flooring, and the walls are pale beige, Dean's dad sat then indicated to the couch for Mr Tibbles to sit,

"So, I hear you're scouting my son."

"Yes," he said as he sat, a black briefcase lying across his legs he popped it open and took out a set of papers held together by a staple ", and we are willing to compensate him for his time," he said handing Deans father the papers

"Good lord, you're going to pay him how much," he told astonished eyes looking from documents to the man who delivered them "to play in the... the" he snapped his fingers in an attempt to recall the name of the tournament.

"Junior Goodwill Games," Mr Tibbles said after a few moments of awkward snapping.

"Why not call it the Junior Olympics." Mr Portman asked.

"Mostly, it's a matter of copyright." Answered Mr Tibbles, he had already responded to this question twice before and was well practised in answering. "The Olympics has some negative connotations." Given the whole issue with Russia, America and the Cold war, it was a name that was very emotional for people. "Hendrix Hockey is trying to stay away from." he said, taking out a silver metallic Parker Pen. "the Olympics has been in modern times very politically charged."

"I understand," said Mr Portman as he read through the contract carefully his work as a lawyer allowing him to decipher the overly long legalese. "I don't see a problem with the contract," he said as he closed the cover and put it on the coffee table. "Dean, in the end, it's up to you," he said looking at his son who was sitting forward almost on the edge of the chair shaking his left leg up and down very quickly head in his hands.

"Here you go, Mr Tibbles," said Mrs Portman, she brought in three cups of coffee and one glass of Pepsi on a coke tray, she handed them out to each person getting thanks from each before she sat down next to her son. She briefly looked over the contracts thoroughly, but being a Nurse, she only picked up a small smattering of the Latin and double talk written on the paper.

"Well, son, what do you think," asked Mr Tibbles, turning to Dean after taking a sip of his fresh coffee.

"I'm not sure," he said, looking at the spokesman. "I mean, why me there must be a thousand other guys out there why me."

"Mr Portman." he paused for a second "Dean." the boy nodded "your right; there are thousands of other kids out there. But, none have your skill or controlled aggression." he said looking the boy in the eye. "you are a great puck handler, you fast of the mark, you can read your opponent's well. On top of that, you're a phenomenal enforcer. the majority of kids have one of those skills maybe two if they're lucky you are a complete package."

Dean nodded in satisfaction, he grabbed the contract and pen offered by Mr Tibbles, he clicked the button of the pen off his chest with a deep click, then stared at the deal. Considering his options for a moment he signed the contract, pushing the paper away and handing the pen back to Mr Tibbles.

"Welcome to Team USA Dean," he said again offering the teen his hand which Dean shook, again, it was a limp shake though this time it was clammy. "I'll be back in a week to pick you up for training camp, there we'll introduce you to your teammates and coach."

It was late when Mr Tibbles left the Portman household, the sun was just setting, he said goodnight to the Portman's and made his way back to the car.

True to his word one week later saw Mr Tibbles return.

Janet was in the kitchen doing dishes when the sudden ring of the doorbell made her jump. Almost dropping the cup, she was drying, after carefully placing it in the cupboard she made her way to the door, when she opened it she was met by Mr Tibbles.

"Mrs Portman" he smiled "I'm here for Dean."

"He's out for his daily jog," she said glancing quickly at her watch "he should be back in a few minutes" she opened the door wider "come on in"

"thank you" he smiled as he entered into the familiar Portman living room

"would you like a drink, Mr Tibbles?"

"It's Don, and yes I would like a coffee please" Janet nodded then headed to the kitchen

"Dean is really stoked to be heading off on this tournament." Janet called from the kitchen "I haven't seen him this excited in years."

"really" Don answered in a loud voice in return.

"yeah," she called again "he doesn't say it out loud, but he was getting bored with facing the same teams and all the time over and over."

"well I'm glad Hendrix Hockey could help," he said as Janet re-entered the room holding a tray with two cups on it steam emitting from the top of both

"Thanks again, I was considering sending him to my brothers to straighten him out" she smiled as she approached, "they thought him how to play, so they know how to handle Dean." She sighed "they did after the whole Tattoo fiasco."

Dean was slightly out of breath. His legs were beginning to burn. Still, he felt great, it was Monday he had no school and could train the day away, he had planes to get to the rink later and skate for a bit. But, as he approached his house, he recognised a black limo parked outside his house and immediately realised his plans for the day were gone in a puff of smoke. However, still, he smiled new challenges and fresh meat awaited.

"Here you go Don," said Janet as he handed him a cup of coffee from her tray

"Thank you, Janet," he said as he took the cup from her taking a sip and placing it on to the coaster "you were saying about your brothers," he asked

"Yes," she said, taking a sip from her own cup. "I have three brothers who play Hockey in the minor league," she said as she passed him a picture of three large men with thick black glasses. They were posing with a championship trophy.

"they're a bit older than me, I was my parents little surprise." she smiled. "that's Steve." she said pointing at the taller of the three. "that's Jeff." indicating that, the smaller of the brunettes. "and that's David." she said looking to the blond, she smiled. "they taught Dean how to play hockey."

"So, hockey's in the blood, so to speak."

"Yes" she smiled taking another sip of her drink

"What err" he stalled for a second. "what team is that?" he asked he recognised them somewhere in the back of his mind the colours looked familiar, but there are several teams called the Chiefs within the NHL and minor league hockey, and for some reason he had a building dread in the pit of his stomach.

"Charlestown," she said with a wistful smile "The Charlestown Chiefs."

"the...the." he composed himself for a second. "THE Charlestown Chiefs" she nodded with a smile "the 1977 Federal League Champions Charlestown Chiefs." she nodded again hiding a smile behind her cup as she drank again. "holders of the most penalty minutes ever awarded in a single season" she nodded again. "then that would mean that"

"Dean was taught by the infamous Hanson brothers, yes."

"You…Your"

"Yes, my maiden name was Hanson," she said

Don paled slightly

"what do you mean straighten him out he's not in trouble is he," he asked somewhat concerned

"No, Dean is a brilliant child" her smile dropped "very smart, but as he got older school got easier almost too easy, it didn't challenge him, and he started getting bored and frustrated." she finished her coffee in two gulps "so, he started ditching, it started as once or twice then got worse." she sighed "even when we put him in the advanced AP classes after a few months it started getting too easy for him"

"ah" Don was relieved ", and he stopped seeing the point in going" Don understood having dealt with Dean's type before

"yes" before she could continue the front door burst open and in jogged a sweaty Dean, he stretched before coming in, the smell of musky sweat filled the room Janet pinched her nose, and Don stood,

"Dean shower now," she said as she got up and pushed him towards the stairs, he smiled pecked his mother on the cheek before she swatted him across the back of his head, sending him chuckling up the stairs.

"he's good kid Janet."

"I know." She said, "Hockey became his main goal, he wants to win the Stanley Cup."

"These Games can help with that," said Mr Tibbles "there'll be scouts for all major youth teams" he explained, "even a few for Schools like Eden Hall are always looking for talent to expand their prestige, the games could be Deans first step to the NHL."

Dean came bounding down the stairs with his kit bag, sticks and suitcases he and his mom had packed his main gear yesterday leaving out a spare set if he had wanted to go skating so he would not have to unpack then repack his gear.

They even packed his Charlestown Chiefs jersey, a gift from his uncles and the team both the white home jersey and the blue away jersey, everything he would need for a long stay away from home.