Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Mighty Ducks. I suppose I own Coach Reily though – not the same one in D1

A/N: I've gone all the way through this Mighty Ducks fiction place and I didn't find one which incorporated a violent coach – I was heartbroken. I dunno – maybe I'm just a weird freak who likes seeing others suffer at the hands of their elders and then get their own back.

            I won't stick to all the history of the Ducks as it was ages ago that I saw D1 and D2. I'm sorry I called the coach Reily – though it only has one L – coz this is probably v. confusing with the other coach guy. I just reckon that Reily is quite an evil name and I wanted my coach to have an evil name – apologies if your name is Reily!

            This is my first fanfic so I'd really appreciate any feedback you kind people are willing to give me. I don't mind flames but I'd like it if they were constructive and didn't make me cry (sob, sob).

            "CONWAY! Get your ass over here now!" the irate coach bellowed furiously at the lone figure skating on the deserted rink.

            Charlie swore under his breath: he'd figured that it was probably safe to go out on the ice so late: that they'd only be janitors around at this time. It was bloody obvious that he had been very wrong about that assumption. The coach had clearly been waiting for him to show – knowing that keeping Charlie Conway away from the ice was like keeping a duck from the water.

            He slowly turned and moved slowly across the ice, still scarred from that day's practice, steadily avoiding the worst parts, keeping his head down. He slewed to a stop at the end of the ice, unwilling to join his Coach on the floor. There was a moment's silence while Charlie was seemingly totally absorbed in studying the ruts in the ice, sure he could feel Reily's eyes burning a hole through his head. He grimaced to himself, knowing what the coach was waiting for but he refused to comply with the Coach's stupid, degrading rules and looked up, defiantly staring into the Coach's narrowed eyes. There was a pause.

            "Conway," the man's voice was deceptively soft, "you're still on the ice."

            "I noticed, Sir," Charlie's voice held a slight tremour that belied his defiant posture.  

            The Coach chuckled, a sound that Charlie didn't like one bit, "Very good, Conway," he paused, his tone getting slightly harder, "but I'd make sure that you can finish what you're thinking about starting before you do anything hasty."

            Charlie knew exactly what sort of hell his Coach could inflict upon him at Eden Hall, and he knew he certainly wasn't angry enough to allow that yet. This was about pride and stubbornness, and, though Charlie had a great deal of both, logic told him that it was worth sacrificing this small humiliation for the bigger picture.

            Slowly, Charlie lowered himself to one knee, the position took when discussing tactics in a match. From the very beginning, when the Ducks had first met the guy, Coach Reily had made it clear that whenever they were on the ice he expected them to address him from the floor. To begin with they had all laughed at this and had called the man mad: it had soon changed when they had been punished. Swift and sometimes brutal, they had soon learnt that it was easier to go along with Reily, and many of the more placid Ducks were faintly eager to get down on one knee, rather than disappoint the Coach. Soon it was only Charlie, Fulton and Portman that refused to subjugate themselves in such a manner. Then he had grounded the three would-be rebels. Fulton broke first, followed by Portman and, without the Bash Brothers' support, Charlie had eventually given in.

            The Coach smiled down at him, "Smart move, Conway, very smart: you wouldn't want to make me any angrier than I already am with you, would you?"

            Charlie lowered his eyes, "No, Sir." He wasn't wearing his knee pads and the icy water was soaking through his trousers. He just wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. Unfortunately the Coach seemed perfectly willing to take his sweet time before announcing Charlie's punishment for missing afternoon practice that day.

            "Do you have a decent excuse for not being where you were meant to be at 4:30 today?" he asked softly.

            Charlie didn't think that the Coach would be pleased with the truth – that he was visiting his old coach, Bombay: Reily was very protective over his players, especially the team captain. "No, Sir."

            The man's eyes glinted, "Where were you?" he raised one eyebrow.

            "In my room."

            The Coach's eyes darkened and he reached forward and grabbed the front of Charlie's jersey in his fist and dragged him off the slippery ice on to the rough floor, towards him, "Don't lie to me, boy. I sent the cowboy to check your room." He brought Charlie right up close to him, the boy shocked at the man's sudden show of violence, "Where the hell were you?" he shouted, the force directed straight into Charlie's face.

            Charlie didn't say a word; his mind wasn't functioning quickly enough to give him a reasonable excuse. One thing registered though: he knew that the truth of where he had been was probably worse than anything the Coach was speculating about. Reily had ordered all the Ducks to stay away from their former coaches: he said that his was the only voice they would be listening to.

            The Coach let go of his jersey and Charlie fell to the floor with a thud. Reily stared down at the teenager with cold blue eyes, then he smiled to himself. "You're just going to have to make up the time you wasted for me. Laps, Conway, NOW!"

            Charlie glared at the man vehemently, pulled himself to his feet and turned back to the ice.

The Coach watched him as the boy started skating, noting the apparent ease and fluidity of his movements. Natural talent, the man thought icily, with an attitude to equal, if not better, his skill. That talent was one of the main things that kept the Mighty Ducks winning their games, and the boy's charisma gave the Ducks some sort of inspiration, he had realized, when he had first seen them play. But if Conway kept disobeying him then he could lose the other Ducks' respect. He knew he would have to do something about Captain Duck, something harsh, to put him in his rightful place and to secure the team's loyalty through fear.

He turned his back on the rink and made his way to the door. He opened it, stepped through, and closed it behind him, bringing out the key which hung on a cord round his neck. He locked the door and moved away silently, knowing full well that no one would be anywhere near the rink for about five hours, when the security guard made his rounds at midnight. The temperature in the building, designed to keep the ice from melting, would certainly cool down Conway's rebellious nature and it was a suitable punishment for the boy going AWOL that afternoon.

Charles Conway would learn to obey his Coach.

So if y'all enjoyed it I'll continue writing – I have a load of ideas in my head: more nasty punishments, Charlie getting angry etc etc.

            Also I apologize to anyone out there who found me over exaggerating Charlie's skill – if I am (I don't know much when it comes to hockey). It's necessary in the storyline and he is definitely my favorite Duck so I don't care – I swear not to make it too over the top, though.

Thanx for reading my fic!