Defenceman: Parallel Ice (Non-Canonical Saga)
Copyright© 2025 by Cold Creek Tribute Writer
22. Aftershocks
Coming of Age Story: 22. Aftershocks - Defenceman: Parallel Ice (A Non-Canonical Saga) builds on Cold Creek’s Defenceman series while offering a new interpretation. Michael Stewart’s journey extends beyond the rink into intrigue, modeling, and the launch of his AI: Aegis. From Ann Arbor to London, Japan, and Spain, the story explores honor, love, betrayal, and resilience. Rivals and allies test his limits in the arena, courts and shadows—where triumph demands sacrifice and heart both on and off the ice.
Caution: This Coming of Age Story contains strong sexual content, including Romantic Celebrity Sports Interracial White Female Oriental Female White Couple Royalty
The Truth Delivered
Rika wakes already aware that something is wrong.
She keeps her eyes closed for a moment, not to rest, but to check herself. Nothing in the room demands immediate action. That means whatever happened has already settled into consequence.
She opens her eyes and tests movement.
Her left hand answers immediately. Her right arm does not.
She turns her head and looks down. An external frame locks the arm in place. Pins hold the bone steady, exposed and raw. The configuration tells her recovery will take months, not days.
That is irritating. It is not the problem.
Pain sits behind everything else, present but managed. What pushes forward instead is anger, sharp and contained. Not at the injury. At herself.
She should have noticed earlier, before the crowd pushed them toward the stairs.
Footsteps approach, then stop. The door opens.
Michael enters first. Relief flashes across his face and vanishes when his eyes drop to her arm. The guilt is brief but unmistakable. Asuka is beside him, composed and alert, already cataloging the room. Willow follows, holding herself together by momentum rather than ease. Dušan closes the door and takes a position near the wall, posture neutral.
Rika looks at each of them and gives a slight nod.
“You’re awake,” Michael says.
“Obviously,” she replies.
A doctor enters after them and introduces himself to Rika.
He confirms the surgery is complete, the fixation is stable, and the fracture is cleanly aligned. He explains that the external frame will likely remain in place for ten to twelve weeks, followed by several additional months of rehabilitation before full strength and range of motion return. With disciplined recovery, full use is expected. He answers Rika’s questions directly, without embellishment. When he leaves, the room feels smaller.
No one fills the silence.
Rika lies still, absorbing what she has been told. She wanted the prognosis to know how long the frame would stay on her arm and what it would cost her operationally. Now she does.
That part is settled.
“Tell me what happened,” she says.
Michael does not start with the mechanics.
“This wasn’t random,” he says. “Dušan confirmed it was a setup. I was the target; your injury was the catalyst.”
Asuka continues without pause. “The crowd was shaped to force movement toward the stairs. The shove was used to trigger chaos.”
Only then do they walk through what followed.
Crowd pressure increased along the walkway and broke down into disorder after the flare went off. The shove triggered a surge. As Rika tried to recover her footing, she was struck deliberately from the side. Her boot caught on a cable laid across the decking, and the loss of balance sent her down the metal stairs.
A photographer remained positioned throughout the mayhem.
Dušan confirms what Asuka already knows. Surveillance devices were discovered in the hotel rooms. A communications technician was identified and detained quietly. The structure matches a compartmentalized team with external direction. The incident is assessed as staged and coordinated, and that is how it is documented.
They do not speculate beyond that. Not because they lack theories, but because they are inside a room where speculation does not improve readiness.
Rika listens without interrupting. She tracks timing, spacing, and intent. What is left unsaid is motive and attribution. That absence is deliberate.
When they finish, she speaks.
“I did not see the setup,” she says.
The statement is flat and accurate. It is not an apology.
She asks questions, each one precise.
Where the attacker stood before the shove. Which angles the photographer favored before and after the fall. How compressed the crowd became before ignition. The exact timing of the flare relative to contact.
Dušan answers immediately. His responses are concise and bounded.
Serbia’s posture is clear. Michael and Rika are classified as victims. The incident is formally logged to prevent domestic exposure. No charges are pending. Coordination is ongoing.
Rika sits with that for a moment.
Her gaze returns to her arm, then lifts again.
“They went around me,” she says.
No one interrupts.
“They shaped the crowd instead of challenging security,” she says. “That only works if someone knew who mattered to Michael.”
Understanding settles in, sharp and unwelcome.
“That matters more than the injury,” she says. “It means this was planned with intent.”
Michael speaks before the silence stretches too far. “Melissa thinks this does not end here,” he says. “If this was shaped for optics, something else is likely coming.”
Rika looks at him. “A narrative.”
“Yes,” Michael says. “And if it comes, it will come quickly.”
Willow steps in without raising her voice. “That is why I want to stay with you,” she says. “I do not want decisions forming around you without me there.”
Rika absorbs that and does not comment.
She closes her eyes briefly, then opens them again. “Recovery removes me from direct protection duties,” she says. “Ignoring that would create more risk than it solves.”
The tone makes it clear this is not a discussion.
Asuka nods once. The decision stands.
Rika settles back against the pillow and controls her breathing. Someone planned the moment, shaped the crowd, and struck where she was not looking.
That is the mistake she will not repeat.
Next Steps
I stay after the doctor leaves, taking the chair beside Rika’s bed while the room settles.
A little while later, Rachel and Crystal visit. They keep it short, bringing everyday conversation and careful smiles. I watch Rika manage the attention with patience she does not feel. I can tell it irritates her, even when it comes from care. She answers their questions, thanks them, and eases their concern. When they leave, the room quiets again.
It is just us.
Rika does not speak first. She waits, watching how we arrange ourselves. I recognize that look. She is already thinking ahead.
Willow breaks the silence. She mentions the tour schedule and a short gap before the Asia leg begins. It buys time before tour commitments resume.
“I can go back with you,” she says, looking at me. “If something is coming, I want to be there when it does. Not after.”
The way she says it matters. Timing and care, not sacrifice.
I nod. “That helps a lot. Thank you.”
Asuka confirms she will come as well. She says it as a statement, not an offer. Responsibilities will shift. Coverage will tighten.
Rika listens and then gives a single nod of approval.
“Good,” she says.
We start talking through movement. Medical clearance. Transport windows. Security layers. Everything depends on what the doctors allow.
Willow sits closer to me than she has since the accident.
Rika shifts slightly on the bed, careful of the frame.
“You will leave as soon as it is possible,” she says. “Not when it is comfortable.”
“Yeah. I get it,” I say.
She studies me for a second, checking for hesitation. She does not find any.
The conversation turns practical again. Which flights reduce exposure. How much visibility to expect at departure points. What happens if the press escalates before we move.
Asuka steps out briefly and returns a few minutes later. When she speaks, it is clear she has already coordinated.
Jack’s guidance is straightforward. Routes that minimize exposure. Timing windows that reduce press density. Contingencies if visibility spikes before departure.
Willow listens closely. She asks questions focused on order. She wants to know where she fits, not how to avoid what is coming.
That matters to me more than I say.
A nurse checks in briefly. Rika is stable. Pain is manageable. Clearance will not come today, but planning can proceed.
Once the nurse leaves, Rika speaks again.
“There will be pressure,” she says. “From outside. Do not let it slow you.”
“I won’t,” I reply.
She nods, satisfied.
Willow glances at me. “I’ll call the band and let them know I’m heading back to Ann Arbor for a few days before the Asia leg. Management is aligned.”
“Do it,” I say.
Asuka checks her phone. Messages are already waiting.
I stand and stretch my shoulders, aware of how long I have been holding myself rigid. That is not helping.
Rika notices.
“You are not useful frozen,” she says.
I almost smile. “Working on it.”
She lets that pass.
The conversation winds down naturally. Nothing else can be decided here. Everything remaining depends on execution.
Before we leave, I step closer to Rika’s bed.
“I’m sorry,” I say, keeping my voice low.
She looks at me directly.
“I know,” she says. “Do not let that become the point.”
It lands exactly where it should.
As we step into the hallway, the muted noise of the hospital returns. Willow walks beside me. Asuka falls half a step behind, already scanning.
Movement comes first.
We are not done. We are moving.
Professional Recalibration
Michael and Willow step out to take calls.
Asuka remains by the bed while Rika watches the door close and then looks back at Asuka.
“This changes things,” Rika says.
“Yes,” Asuka replies.
There is no need to soften it.
Rika adjusts slightly against the pillows, careful of the frame. The movement costs her effort, but she does not comment on it.
“I will be removed from hands-on work,” Rika says. “Not briefly.”
Asuka nods. She has already reached the same conclusion.
“You will not be field capable for some time,” Asuka says. “Training and close protection will require reassignment.”
Rika looks at her directly.
“You will take it,” she says.
The statement is not a request.
Asuka answers immediately. “I will.”
Rika holds her gaze, measuring the answer. There is no doubt in it.
“Michael will require continuity,” Rika continues. “Do not change his routine unless necessary. Disruption creates openings.”
“I understand,” Asuka says.
She considers the next part carefully before speaking.
“There is a complication,” she says. “Willow’s security resumes once touring restarts. That responsibility remains mine.”
Rika considers this without visible reaction.
“Then coverage adapts,” Rika says. “Not sentiment. Logistics.”
Asuka allows herself a slight nod. This is precisely the response she expected.
“We will stagger priorities,” Asuka says. “Michael’s movements will be primary. Willow’s coverage will flex with venue and schedule.”
“Acceptable,” Rika replies.
There is a pause, not awkward but deliberate. Both women understand that something is shifting beneath the surface. Not trust. Not loyalty. Responsibility.
Rika speaks again.
“You did not miss this,” she says.
Asuka does not respond immediately. She chooses her words.
“I was watching the wrong angle,” she says. “I assumed you had the stairs.”
Rika accepts that without comment.
“I should not have,” Asuka adds.
Rika exhales once through her nose.
“Do not repeat it,” she says.
“I will not,” Asuka replies.
The exchange settles the matter. There is no blame left to assign.
Rika’s gaze drifts briefly to the external frame on her arm. She does not linger on it.
“You will need support,” Asuka says. “Not for judgment. For endurance.”
Rika looks back at her.
“I am aware,” she says.
Asuka shifts her weight slightly. This is the part that does not fit neatly into roles or procedures.
“You will not be sidelined,” Asuka says. “Your authority remains.”
Rika’s expression tightens for a moment, then relaxes.
“I know,” she says. “That is not my concern.”
Asuka understands what she means. Being absent is not the issue. Being predictable is.
Footsteps approach outside the room. Michael and Willow are returning.
Rika straightens slightly, resetting her posture. The conversation ends without ceremony.
Asuka steps back into her usual position, face neutral, attention outward. The adjustment is already in motion.
Roles are shifting, not breaking.
That distinction matters.
Containment Planning
Melissa relocates to the Matsuda Compound to accelerate decisions and tighten coordination as escalation becomes likely.
The initial statement is already out. Melissa and Hanna pushed it simultaneously through Michael’s site and Melissa’s media contacts. It lands softly; major outlets acknowledge it and move on.
From the condo, Hanna monitors social media for mentions of Michael or the incident at EXIT. Engagement is present but uneven—no synchronized headlines nor repeated framing language. Mentions are tapering off, and part of her hopes that means the story is fading. However, she stays alert anyway, waiting to see what comes next.
Melissa does not mistake quiet for safety.
What exists so far is fragmented. Amateur crowd videos circulate without context. A small number of professional stills appear one at a time, each released without coordination. Velocity is rising, but the pattern is inconsistent.
Hanna flags early chatter from UK tabloids and Irish-based freelancers. MI6 reporting suggests the coordinating figure behind the attack may be operating out of Ireland, which keeps Hanna’s attention on UK entry points. The UK press moves faster and with fewer constraints than U.S. outlets. U.S. media remain quiet for now, but she is watching them closely for crossover.
Melissa reviews compiled inputs from Jack, Serbian authorities, and early MI6 signals. Jack’s bodycam reconstruction anchors the factual record. The timeline is clean. The sequence is defensible. MI6 input confirms the structure but offers no concrete conclusions.
That is fine. She does not need direction.