NHL Playoffs Western Conference Semifinals.

The San Jose Sharks vs. The Detroit Red Wings

Almost falling apart at the seams, just barely holding together the big red machine rolls through the desert. The sand had gotten into the joints and the clever coyotes had almost solved its great weakness. On the verge of sputtering out of control it is trying to work out that blasted sand. Trying to become well oiled once more, for its new destination is the sea. And if the dirt is still caught in the gears by then it could stick and become permanent. Its only choice to do what it has always done, work its problems out in its own time, while the hive mind of computers inside send out messages: the winged wheel is coming.

The Sharks look up from their meal to sea an image painted in the sky. A round red thing with feathers shooting out one side, a new meal perhaps? Someone was coming for sure, but who? They begin to swim in circles around the watery grave of the mountain men, brave but not so smart to think that they could have invaded their waters. Everyone who came here was food. The Sharks show their rows and rows of teeth, they are not afraid.

When it turns out there is a machine in their midst, confusion enters their vicious minds. Metal does not sound like a very savory meal. Still this was an invader like any other, could metal break under teeth like any other body? Not to mention can the machine survive underwater, their circles became more intense and the brains racked with both nervousness and excitement. A new kind of meal all together.

The machine had a trick up its sleeve. The hive mind conferring, the joints of the metal beast creaking it did not just roll into the water, it created a long smooth hull. To bring this fight to the fish the machine must be smart and resourceful. Must stay one step ahead least those massive jaws come crashing down and sink it. In the sky, the message of the Winged Wheel remained.

Red Wings in 6

The Chicago Blackhawks and The Vancouver Canucks

The Blackhawks returned from their successful hunting trip. It is one thing to hunt, another to hunt a Predator. The massive carcass had been cut up into many pieces and split up to be carried by horses. They would be not be hungry for a long time. But upon reaching their home, there was an eerie stir in the air, something strangely familiar.

"Oh hey brother remember us?" It was them, the ones who had come last year, the bloody Canucks. The Blackhawks had drove them off with spear and tomahawk. Hadn't they learned their lesson?

"Get off our land you unholy Canadians," The Blackhawks had grim looks on their faces.

The Canucks only smiled, smirked, laughed even. What was so funny? They had been driven off, the Blackhawks had proved their superiority. Those Canadians had run to the hills frightened like a school child running he thought was under his bed. The captured had been scalped. Now they stood here with their smug faces and their laughter, their clever japes and prods. Did they not know the stakes were the same as they had always been? The dangers no different? Maybe they had to learn that lesson again.

"He looks angry eh?" The Canucks looked at each other grinning, "What you think this is the same as last year right? You think we'd stay away right? Think we'd learn our lesson right?" He licked his lips into a sneer, "Well this year eh, this year we're gonna teach you a lesson. We've caused the downfall of empires, deposed Kings, what's a small tribe of stinkin' Injuns to that?"

The Blackhawks clenched their fists. Fury ran through their veins. These insolent punks, what did they have, what the fuck did they have that they thought they could put down legendary warriors. No one escapes this time, scalp them all.

Canucks in 6.