Warrior Hitman hockey gloves 13″ black/silver NEW ~ never worn
Pricing & History
- Sold for
Start Free Trial or
to see what it’s worth.
- Sold Date
Warrior Hitman Jr. Hockey Gloves black/silver size: 13″ New Super lightweight construction V-Tek moisture management liner with breathable gussets Quick release design: (1) 12 degree grip-line separation – Improves hand to stick feel (2) Open cuff – Designed to improve wrist mobility (3) 1/3 – 2/3 finger separation – Separation designed to follow proper finger break Tri-layer vibration dampening Nash synthetic palm DNA Concept – Warrior DNA Concept keeps one simple idea in all product design: form facilitates function All protective product is designed based on movement, fit, function, and proper shape Every details falls back to our DNA Concept, from cuff openings on gloves to shin cap anatomical shape and hyper extension lock P.I.M.P.S. – Pro Impact Management Protective System means we take care in what we use for our gloves We offer High Impact, High Density foams to Low Density open cell comfort foams in many products as well as using the highest quality plastics and molded hard foams to achieve greater high impact protection We cover every kind of impact a hockey player will be exposed to during the course of a game VTEK – VTEK provides moisture wicking and antibacterial Features Moisture is not absorbed into the glove, leading to longer wear, faster dry time and reduced moisture weight during the course of the game Contour
Glove – All glove patterns are contour fit to follow the natural curves of the hand This simple idea takes many hours to perfect and design so the patterns of our gloves properly fit the many complex curves of the hand and fingers Proper fit and function lead to better mobility and protection
Click below to begin your paid subscription.
Your credit card or PayPal account will be charged.
Warrior hitman hockey gloves brand new size 14
Pricing & History
- Sold for
Start Free Trial or
to see what it’s worth.
- Sold Date
Up for your consideration is one pair of new WARRIOR HITMAN 14″ SR HOCKEY GLOVES BLACK/SILVER. These gloves are top of the line for the serious player. WARRIOR HITMAN…..It’s like your own personal enforcer, hired just to protect your paws. WARRIOR HITMAN 14″ SR HOCKEY GLOVES BLACK/SILVER Super lightweight construction V-Tek moisture management liner with breathable gussets Quick release design: (1) 12 degree grip-line separation – Improves hand to stick feel(2) Open cuff – Designed to improve wrist mobility(3) 1/3 – 2/3 finger separation – Separation designed to follow proper finger break Tri-layer vibration dampening Nash synthetic palm DNA Concept – Warrior DNA Concept keeps one simple idea in all product design: form facilitates function. All protective product is designed based on movement, fit, function, and proper shape. Every details falls back to our DNA Concept, from cuff openings on gloves to shin cap anatomical shape and hyper extension lock. P.I.M.P.S. – Pro Impact Management Protective System means we take care in what we use for our gloves. We offer High Impact, High Density foams to Low Density open cell comfort foams in many products as well as using the highest quality plastics and molded hard foams to achieve greater high impact protection. We cover every kind of impact a hockey player will be exposed to during
the course of a game VTEK – VTEK provides moisture wicking and antibacterial features. Moisture is not absorbed into the glove, leading to longer wear, faster dry time and reduced moisture weight during the course of the game. Contour Glove – All glove patterns are contour fit to follow the natural curves of the hand. This simple idea takes many hours to perfect and design so the patterns of our gloves properly fit the many complex curves of the hand and fingers. Proper fit and function lead to better mobility and protection MSRP $157.99
Click below to begin your paid subscription.
Your credit card or PayPal account will be charged.
Sunday Story: Lawrence Block – FURFUR
Lawrence Block (1938—) was an American detective writer. He first began publishing at the age of twenty-one – the first story appeared in the New York magazine Manhunt. Since then, Blok has authored more than fifty novels, and has also been awarded the honorary Edgar Poe Prize three times.
This Sunday, a few minutes before midnight, at the door of the Clio Club on Broderick Avenue, a girl handed her black hat to Thomas Carroll, aka Lucky Tom. Lucky put a crunchy dollar bill into the girl’s hand, winked, and walked out into the warm, moonlit night. At fifty-two, he looked forty-five, but thought he was no more than thirty-nine. Throwing away his half-smoked cigar, he headed to the club’s parking lot, where a very expensive, very large car was waiting for him.
Once behind the wheel, Lucky put the key into the ignition and only then felt that he was not alone.
When the bolt clicked behind him, Carroll froze, and then a short man sitting in the back seat shot him six times in the head. The echo of the shots had not yet subsided when a short man had already slipped out of the car, stuffing a revolver into his jacket pocket, and was trotting along the street, removing white gloves from his miniature hands as he went. With gloves in hand, he looked just like a White Rabbit hurrying to meet the Duchess.
Initial inspection of the crime scene by Finney and Mattera. Onlookers were already crowding around, but neither Finney nor Mattera shared their interest in what was happening. They arrived, had a look, made sure that there were no witnesses, that is, there was no one to interrogate, and went to the White Castle to drink a cup of coffee. Let the experts sweat in search of a black cat in a dark room. Fingerprints? evidence? Motives? Loss of time.
“I guess the killer is already on the plane,” Finney said.
– Arrives on the west coast before the body cools down.
– I won’t argue.
– Lucky Tom got his way after all. Well, at least I chose such a good night. I would not want to get out of the site in the rain. And with such a moon, you can admire his corpse.
– Yes, grace is on the street now.
“You’re right,” Finny sipped his coffee.
— Listen, who would want to kill him?
“Good question,” Mattera chuckled.
– After all, what did he do? Armed robbery, robbery, kidnapping, three murders in which we could not convict him, although we know that he killed …
– Really, nothing outstanding.
– The true owner of the Clio Club, three underground casinos …
– Four, – Finney corrected his partner.
– Four? I only know about three,” Mattera finished his coffee.
– Pawnbroker, number two in Barry Beyer’s gang, that’s probably all. Eight years ago, he was also accused of rape.
– Respectable citizen.
– Recognized leader.
– You can’t say otherwise.
– Undoubtedly, a professional worked. Six bullets to the head. What do you think, revenge?
“Looks like it,” Mattera nodded.
– Did a black cat run between Beyer and Archie Moscow?
– Apparently not. They have long lived in peace and harmony. Two gangs are gutting the city instead of settling scores with each other.
– Reasonable approach. We have law and order. And we can only be proud that we serve this law and maintain this very order.
“Shut up,” said Mattera.
About two days and three hours later, three men came out of 815 Cameron Street. There was no sign on the house, but every taxi driver in the city knew how to get there. In order not to injure respectable readers, I will not mention what they did outside its walls. I can only say that seven pretty women lived in it, but not nurses or students.
Three men walked towards their car. He was standing at the fire hydrant: it seems that the men had no doubt that any patrolman, looking at the license plate, would not fine them for parking in the wrong place. All three worked for Mr. Archer Moscow. They stopped by at 815 to collect their weekly earnings and check the quality of customer service. They had barely reached the curbstone when a battered convertible car pulled up beside them. The driver leaned over the passenger seat and shot a man walking in the middle with a sawed-off shotgun. Then he grabbed an automatic pistol from the seat and shot his companions, putting three bullets into each. He did all this very quickly, and the men fell on the pavement already dead.
Then he sharply pressed the gas pedal to the floor, and the car literally took off. He passed the turn on two wheels and immediately dropped to twenty-five miles an hour. The short man drove four blocks, stopped the car at the sidewalk, raised the top. I dismantled the gun, put it together with the pistol in the black “diplomat”. He pulled the wire out of the ignition lock and got out of the cab. Then he took off his white gloves and put them in the same “diplomat”. His car was parked around the corner. He threw the “Diplomat” into the trunk, got behind the wheel and drove home.
This crime was also dealt with by Finney and Mattera. And this time they couldn’t complain about the weather, but they had noticeably more trouble. Because the trinity was killed in front of witnesses. And where there are witnesses, there is a headache. One witness testified that the killer approached the dead, but his version did not receive support. The rest claimed to have fired from a car. Either with a convertible top, or from a sedan, or from a truck. Who saw what. The number of killers was also not clear. One claimed that three shots, the other – one. Most believed that there were two killers. Finney and Mattera were inclined to believe that three people were involved in the crime: one fired a gun, the second fired a pistol, the third was driving a car. They asked the witnesses if anyone could identify the killer or killers, and the witnesses immediately remembered that the murder was gangster. And since everyone knew well what fate awaited the witnesses who remembered the signs of the killer, it soon became clear that no one could see the killers.
Finny had to ask stupid questions, Mattera wrote down stupid answers, so it was an hour before they could have coffee at the White Castle.
“Witnesses are so unreliable,” Finney sighed.
“They’re useless,” agreed Mattera.
– True truth. Three more Honorable Citizens…
– This time, three Honorable Citizens Archie Moscow – Joe Dent, Charlie Weiss and Big Nose Marchison. Well, he has a name, Big Nose.
“Now he can’t smell anything even with his big nose,” said Finney.
– Sounds like a war, doesn’t it, sir?
“Mmmmmm,” drawled Mattera.
– All this is strange. Some rumors must have reached us. This is the advantage of the cops. We hear things that the average citizen has no idea about. We do not always react, but we certainly hear something. Actually, we wear this uniform, because it gives us a sense of belonging to what is happening.
“And I thought it was all about the free coffee,” put in the bartender. Finny and Mattera held the cups to their mouths, pretending not to hear him.
“We have a bleak outlook,” Finney shook his head.
– If Moscow and Beyer start a squabble, blood will flow like water, and there is no need to talk about the chances of solving at least one such murder, – he smiled.
– Hitmen will frequent our city, the number of unsolved crimes will grow by leaps and bounds, the newspapers will probably note that our police station is not the best in the world.
“Everyone knows that we work with integrity,” Mattera muttered.
“You’re absolutely right,” Finny nodded.
“I’m worried about something else,” Mattera continued.
– Innocent people will die in this war. Like Big Nose.
– Pillars of society.
– We will miss them.
The next day, Mr. Archie Moscow called Mr. Barry Beyer’s personal number, after receiving assurances from specialists that the line was not tapped.
– There was no need for this.
– Need for what?
– I’m talking about Dante, Weiss and Big Nose. You know Lucky Tom was dealt with without me. In vain you began to take revenge.
– Who killed Lucky Tom?
– How should I know?
– Then how do I know who killed Dent, Weiss, and Big Nose?
There was a long, long pause. Moscow spoke first.
– We have been friends for many years. They kept the situation under control, they managed perfectly well without firing. And they didn’t organize group fights because someone settled accounts with Lucky Tom.
– If I thought you’d paid off Lucky Tom…
– This drone isn’t worth a bullet.
– If I thought that you paid off with him, I would not bother with such scum like Dant, Weiss and Big Nose. Do you know what I would do?
– I would start with the head! I would have killed you, you kind of drone.
– It’s not good to talk to me like that, Barry.
– As I want, I say so!
— Yes? — there was a threat in Moscow’s voice.
That same evening, a certain Mr. Roswell Spoon turned the key in the ignition, after which a huge explosion sent him from this world to another world. A short man with tiny hands and white gloves watched this process from a tavern across the street. Mr. Spoon worked as a treasurer for Barry Beyer’s organization. Two hours after Mr. Spoon’s untimely and quick death, Beyer’s boys stole an ambulance from the hospital garage. Five got into the cabin, the sixth, in a white coat, drove. He turned on the siren and drove the car through the streets of the city. “Like in the old days,” one of the guys later recalled, “when the revolver was the main argument.”
The ambulance stopped in front of a restaurant on the West Side, where the Moscow team was clustered. The back doors swung open, five brave ones jumped out onto the pavement with machine guns in their hands and flooded the restaurant with lead rain. Eight loyal associates of Archie Moscow remained on the floor, only one of the five submachine gunners died.
Moscow repaid the debt the next day by smashing two Beyer card dens, beating two drug dealers half to death, and shooting Beyer’s deputy when he left the bank at half past three. The killer, having accomplished the last feat, ran into the alley, where he landed on a rookie patrolman, who immediately shot him. The guy served in the police for only three months and almost pissed himself in his pants at the thought that he would be put behind bars: he completely forgot about two warning shots in the air. Instead, he was immediately promoted, transferred to junior detectives.
In the second week of the war, the fighting subsided. The leaders of both gangs began to realize that the state of war required adequate security measures. What kind of visits to a nightclub or casino. You can’t go to your mistress without bodyguards. Some, of course, were not vigilant enough. Magzy Lopez was found in the trunk of a car, wearing a piano string tie. And Little Logan was fished out of his own pool, with his hands and feet bound and several quarts of chlorinated water in his lungs. Benny Benedetto looked under the hood of his brand new car, found a bomb with wires leading to the ignition switch, removed it and, chuckling at amateur bombers, got behind the wheel. Not noticing the second bomb, which was triggered by touching the gas pedal. Then Benny was scrubbed off the floor all over the garage.
Newspapers went wild. The city fathers tore and tossed. The police commissioner yelled as if he had been cut. Finney and Mattera worked two shifts and tried to explain to their wives that there was a war going on. The wives did not want to understand them.
The war lasted three months. Going from hot to cold, when rumors spread about personal meetings between Archie Moscow and Barry Beyer, who seemed to have found a compromise. For a week the city lived without killing, then someone was cut or shot, and the fighting flared up again. By the end of the third month, rumors about a truce began again, however, no one took the next truce seriously. But for five days they did not kill in the city. By this time, the death toll had reached eighty-three. Several were wounded, five ended up in prison, two were missing. Both gangs suffered the same losses. Beyer lost forty bayonets, Moscow forty-three, missing one from each side.
That night, as usual, Finney and Mattera rode out into the city’s waiting streets in an unmarked patrol car. But a surprise awaited them: they caught a short man in white gloves. Mattera spotted him first. In a car on Pickering Road, parked with lights out and engine running. At first, he thought that schoolchildren were hugging in the cabin, but looking closer, he saw that there was only one person there, carried away by some business known only to him. Mattera stopped the patrol car and turned off the lights as well.
The short man did what he wanted, turned off the engine, opened the door, climbed out onto the pavement, and only then noticed Finny and Mattera with revolvers at the ready.
“Oh,” the short man breathed. Finny walked past him, peered into the cockpit.
— Cleverly invented, — he commented on what he saw.
– A small pistol is tied to the steering column, the wire from the trigger is pulled to the gas pedal. You press the pedal, the gun fires and you get shot in the chest. This is the way someone was killed in Texas. Professional approach. Mattera looked at the short man and shook his head.
– Good professional. Bespectacled old man. Whose car is this, mate?
– Eared Carradine.
– Moscow Man. Do you work for Barry Beyer?
The short man’s jaw dropped.
– Of course not.
— And where do you work?
– To Aberdeen Pharmaceutical. I am a chemist.
The short man took off his white gloves.
— I should probably tell you everything.
From the very beginning. Finney admitted that the idea was not bad. A short man offered to talk in a patrol car.
“My name is Edward Fitch,” the short man began. “Naturally, you have not heard of me, but perhaps you will remember my son, Richard Fitch. I called him Dick. Rich Fitch somehow does not sound. I hope you agree with me.
“Get to the point,” put in Mattera.
– So you remember him? They didn’t remember.
– He committed suicide last August. Hanged himself on a cord from an electric razor. I gave him the razor. A few years ago, for my birthday.
“I remember something like that,” Finney admitted. “Then I didn’t know why he committed suicide. A strange act, you know. But then I found out that he lost an exorbitant amount…
— Exorbitant — Finney nodded sympathetically.
— Yes, if I’m not mistaken, five thousand dollars. He tried to borrow this money, but the amount grew every day. Interest ran up.
“Running,” Finny sighed.
– He decided that there was no way out, this was a typical mistake of the young, and took his own life, – Mr. Fitch paused.
– Dick owes money to Thomas Carroll. He appointed these unthinkable percentages, he also beat Dick. Now Finney’s jaw dropped.
“You’re talking about Lucky Tom. ..” Matter said.
“Yes,” Mr. Fitch paused, then smiled sadly. “After making inquiries, I realized that it was impossible to bring him to justice under the law, and therefore I had no choice but to kill this person. Here I am…
– You killed Lucky Tom!
– Yes, I…
– Six shots. In the back of the head.
– I wanted the police to think it was a professional. I didn’t want to fall into your hands.
“And the next evening, Beyer struck back, and the war began,” Finney nodded knowingly.
– Not really. There are things that a man should take on. You see, they do not fit within the law. After killing Mr. Carroll, I realized that this murder was regarded by everyone as revenge. The newspapers called it a gangster showdown. So I thought it would be a good idea to pit both gangs. Naturally, I couldn’t kill all of them, but it was worth starting…
“And you continued to kill,” Mattera interrupted him.
“And one warrior in the field,” Finney added.
– I shot those three on Cameron Street and planted a bomb in Mr. Spoon’s car, but after that I intervened only at those moments when the war began to subside. So I didn’t kill too many.
– How many?
Mr. Fitch sighed.
– How many have you killed, Mr. Fitch?
– Fifteen people. I don’t like to kill, you know.
– If you loved, you would become a danger to society, Mr. Fitch. So fifteen?
– After this night there would be sixteen of them.
There was silence in the cab. Finny lit a cigarette, handed a cigarette to Mattera, handed the pack to Mr. Fitch. He explained that he did not smoke. Finny wanted to say something, but changed his mind at the last moment.
– Mr. Fitch, what were you actually trying to achieve? Mattera asked.
“I think it’s obvious,” Mr. Fitch said softly. “I wanted to wipe these gangs, these gangsters off the face of the earth.
“Erase, then,” Finny nodded.
– You understand, to force them to kill each other.
“Kill each other,” Finny echoed.
– Absolutely right.
– And you thought that your plan would succeed?
Mr. Fitch’s face showed astonishment.
— But everything is going to that, isn’t it?
— I was reminded of the anarchists of the beginning of the century, Mr. Fitch continued. — Of course, they were unpleasant personalities, but their logic was interesting. They believed that more kings should be killed so that in the end there would be no one willing to put on the crown.
“Interesting logic indeed,” Finney agreed.
– So they killed the kings. And now there are not so many of them. We can say literally units. Oh, I understand there are other explanations, but still…
“Yes, there is something to think about,” put in Mattera.
“You’re right,” Finny nodded. – Mr. Fitch, what will happen after you finish with the gangsters in our city?
– I guess I’ll have to move to another one.
– Another city?
— I seem to have a calling for this job, — Mr. Fitch replied. – But now nothing will work, right? You have arrested me. I will go to court. How much will they give me?
“They should give you a medal,” Mattera replied.
“And erect a monument to you in front of the City Hall,” Finney added.
– I’m serious…
– And we’re not kidding, Mr. Fitch.
There was silence again. Mattera thought that the city was much better off without those criminals who three months ago felt completely safe, and now lay in their graves. Finny tried to count how many kings were left. Not much, he decided, and they are only considered kings.
“I suppose you will take me to jail now,” said Mr. Fitch.
Mattera cleared his throat.
– I want to explain something to you, Mr. Fitch. The police are very busy people. We cannot waste time on fantastic stories that are told to us from time to time. Finny and I need to catch criminals.
– Mattera wants to say, Mr. Fitch, that it’s time for a nice old man like you to bye-bye. It’s a pleasure to talk with you, but Mattera and I are very busy. Criminals don’t sleep at night. They need an eye and an eye… That’s it! And you go home and rest.
– God bless you! was Mr. Fitch’s only answer.
They watched him go, smoked, were silent for a long time.
“He’s crazy after all,” Mattera sighed.
– This is the first time I’ve encountered this. And you?
– Me too.
– Well, the old man. So long to get out of the water dry!
– Fifteen-zero in his favor.
– Just about. And seventy more, which they laid down themselves.
On the other side of the street, on the porch of the house, a light bulb flashed. The door opened, the man went to his car. A man with ears like an elephant.
– Big-eared Carradine – immediately identified him as Matter. – We should stop him before he gets behind the wheel.
— Here you go.
– Listen, you’re closer.
Carradine stopped to light a cigarette, threw away the match.
“A few years ago I pushed him against the wall,” Finney grumbled. – Armed robbery. Three witnesses testified against him.
– These witnesses only give me a headache.
– At the trial, two changed their testimony, and the third disappeared. He has not been found so far.
– Tell him anyway.
– This old man came up with a funny way. Read, I read about it, but I didn’t see it in reality. Fine, you know.
– He gets behind the wheel.
– Do you think it will work?
– Let’s see now. You should have warned him, it’s a crazy night, isn’t it?
– Maybe he will notice the gun.
– Maybe he will notice.
Didn’t notice. They heard the engine growl, then a shot rang out and Big-Eared Carradine fell onto the steering wheel. Mattera turned the ignition key, the patrol car pulled away from the pavement.
— How did you like it? It worked like clockwork.
“Sixteen,” Finney summed up.
PAST WEEK STORIES
Edgar Allan Poe
Tag/Tag: gloves 339
Gloves play an important role in the proposed list of films. They are either the main meaning of cinema, for example, what the characters want to get, for which they fight and compete, or a kind of symbol, characteristic of a character or a certain society.
The meaning of this symbolism depends on the type and purpose of the gloves: it can be both elegant and expensive, and rough boxing gloves. Each of them play an important role. As an integral part of the image and image of the hero, gloves of different types have their own purpose and characterize their owner in a special way …
Time goes by (1992)
New (recent) films :
Last duel (2021)
TOP movies tagged with “gloves” : Carol (2015), Frozen (2013), New York Ripper (1982), Lady Chatterley (2006), Scaffold Elevator (1958), Royal Grace (1995), All Night (1942), Sonic Movie (2020), Lost in Ice (2) 018), The Man in the Iron Mask (1998), Seven (1995), God’s Land (2017), Samurai (1967), Ghost (2000), Pieces (1982), Ilsa the Fierce Jailer (1977), Turkish Star Wars (1982), Intuition (2001), Mistress (1976), Clue (1985).