Disclaimer: Beyblade’s not mine. I just mess around with the story.

Sorry, people! I know I have a million others on the go too, but this one won’t leave me alone .

Chapter One

‘This is nothing to worry about.’

A young man with long navy hair swallowed and pushed dark locks out of his face. He was about 5’5” wearing black combats and a long brown coat that was strapped tight against the cold wind. He huffed in annoyance. ‘Dammit! It just Bryan! Nothing to worry about.’

‘Wait… no, Bryan IS something to worry about – shit! Stop worrying! You were given a job to do, now do it.’

Ian gulped again, his hand hovering over the intercom and his long brown coat waving in the passing wind. It had taken him at least three months to trace Bryan even using all the resources at the BBA centres. He’d been working for Mr Dickenson almost as soon as he was released from the rehabilitation centre five years ago. That was the last time he had seen the rest of his “family”.

He wasn’t going to deny it – he had missed them all, Red in particular. Typically, the one he missed most was the hardest to trace, and the one he rarely got along with was the easiest to find.

Bryan (according to his records) had been living alone in a small flat of the edge of St. Petersburg. Ian had found out a lot about him he had never even dreamed of knowing before. For example, Bryan was part of a large family that lived in a village not far from Moscow. Similarly, Bryan went to a small school where he worked hard and was popular. Photos had also been collaborated, collected by Boris in his senile obsession with power. Every time Ian looked at the photo of that young, smiling Bryan… it was unbearable.

With a shaking hand, Ian pressed the call button. There was a pause then an oh-so-familiar voice came over the intercom system, the crackling not distorting the tones that Ian would never forget.

“What?”

Ian’s eyes widened. Shit.

He swallowed. “Bryan? Is… is that you?”

There was a pause, broken only by the insistent crackling which suggested Bryan had pressed the talk button. “Shit… Ian?”

Ian gulped. That had to be one of the few times Bryan had actually said his name. “Uh… yeah. Um, can I come up? It’s kinda important.”

“I figured that.” There was a sigh. “Sure thing.” The line went dead.

The door to the apartments clicked and Ian jumped, before walking inside. He got to the elevator and waited as it creaked and clanked, lifting him up to floor seven.

The doors opened and he looked left and right down the corridor. It was clear. He stepped out and gulped again as he walked to the end flat door with the number eight glittered on it mercilessly.

Ian had only raised his hand to knock on the door when the latch clicked swiftly and it swung open.

Ian was stunned. Had he grown that much? No… Bryan must have shrunk. Either way, Bryan from this angel was almost as scary as the other one. The Falcon hadn’t changed much, as far as he could tell. The hair was still spiky and unruly, although he appeared not to have shaved for several days. He was in black jeans and a loose blue t-shirt, the muscles still as toned as they were in the Abbey. The green eyes were also the same – piercing, as if he knew things you didn’t.

‘Thank God I’m not eyelevel,’ Ian thought.

“Um… hi,” he said at last. Bryan’s hand gripped the doorframe a little tighter but his face revealed nothing – as usual.

“Get in,” Bryan ordered. He shut the door behind Ian and locked it.

Ian swallowed again as he looked around the apartment. A door to the left led to the small plain kitchen as he stood in the living room. The sofa by the cheap looking coffee table was grey, matching the drab slightly ripped wallpaper. The window was open, the shabby curtains flapping in the wind. The armchair was positioned in front of the small dusty television and there was a wooden desk in the corner with a computer chair – the only decent piece of furniture. His eyes lingered on the small desk with a closed laptop and photo frames. Photos, he saw with a twinge, of the Demolition Boys, all of them together when they were away from the Abbey. One of Bryan and Tala, the redhead laughing and Bryan with one of his rare smiles. Spencer and Bryan, arm wrestling while Ian himself was laughing. “Nice place,” Ian said after a while, tearing his eyes away from the photos and looking around the room again.

“Cut the crap. What do you want?” Bryan snapped. He strode past Ian and knocked all the photo frames onto their face so they could no longer be seen.

Ian scowled. “A ‘hello, nice to see you after five years Ian,’ might be nice.”

“How the hell did you find me?” Bryan demanded.

Ian pulled out a leather bound wallet and flipped it open. A badge shone in the flickering light. “Detective Ian Svatkowski of the BBA Criminal Investigation Department. It’s easy to trace people if you know where to start.”

“Where did you start?” Bryan said with narrowed eyes.

“A contact of mine. A man by the name of Vladimir Petrov the owner of -,”

“- one hell of a shady electronics store,” Bryan finished with a sigh. “Bollocks.”

“But that’s not why I’m here,” Ian said.

Bryan’s lavender eyes glanced at Ian. “What’s happened?”

Ian fished a hand into his coat pocket again and pulled out some photos. “Taken last week.” He threw them on the coffee table and Bryan bent to pick them up, his eyes widening.

“Shit…” he said. “It can’t be…”

“It is,” Ian said. “Released several years early, I think.”

“You’re telling me,” Bryan said, looking up from the photos of Boris getting into a black car. “That’s why you’re here?”

“Obviously. The BBA want all the Demolition Boys together at Russian Headquarters for a while, before you’re ah… relocated.”

“What do you mean ‘you’?” Bryan snapped. “You’re a Demolition Boy too… Shrimp.”

Ian’s eyes flashed but he said nothing. “I have work to do. Besides, I’m the weakest of you four anyway. Boris is unlikely to target me first – he’ll want the big prize.”

Bryan went paler than he was. “Tala. Where is he?” Bryan was all but shouting. “Damn it! You have to have found him!”

Ian swallowed and shook his head. “He’s just… vanished. You know how much he hated it in that center -,”

“He wasn’t the only one,” Bryan muttered.

“…the thing is I doubt he’d let himself back in society,” Ian continued. “I’ll talk about it later – somewhere safer.” Ian looked at Bryan with serious red eyes. “Get packing Kuznetsov. We need to get going.”

“Brilliant, I’m taking orders from the shrimp,” Bryan muttered as he disappeared into the side room.

Ian snapped.

“For the love of God!” he shouted. “I’m at least three times my previous height! Cut the shrimp shit!”

“Ian, you still only come up to my shoulder, if that.” Bryan smirked. “At least you’re not a total half pint anymore.”

Bryan shut the door quickly as a pillow from the sofa winged its way to the door, hitting it with a thump.

xXx

Ian loaded the back of the car with the last of Bryan’s bags and Bryan slid a large A3 sketchbook on top. Ian reached over to open it but Bryan batted his hand away.

“Touch and die,” he said. Ian held his hand up in surrender and shut the boot door.

The VW Touareg wasn’t as big as most of them, but it still gave the impression of a “posh” 4X4. Bryan slid into the passenger seat cautiously and gave Ian the raised eyebrow.

“What?” Ian said, starting the engine. “I’ve been driving for nearly three years now.”

“You’ve changed so much,” Bryan said aloud, looking out of the window as the Muscovite streets rushed by.

Ian snorted. “Thanks?” he said, not sure if it was a compliment or an insult.

“You’re mature… and a mature Ian is…” Bryan swallowed. “Scary.”

Ian laughed. “Whatever you say Bryan.”

There was a ringing sound and Ian hit the side of the earpiece in his ear. The microphone flipped down from the hands free set and Bryan blinked – he hadn’t noticed the contraption in Ian’s ear before now.

“Svatkowski,” he said. “Yes, I’ve got him. We’re fine… at the moment. What?” Ian snarled. “Bloody hell! You idiots, I told you… what? Oh for the love of God, look he’ll just have to stay with me for a while.” Ian hit the “end call” button of his phone by his seat and banged the steering wheel. “Fuck! Can’t Admin get anything right?”

“What’s wrong?” Bryan said before he’d even realised he’d shown an interest.

“The safe house we had set aside for you, Spencer and eventually Tala has been sold,” Ian spat. “Which means,” Ian took a right, turning savagely. “You’re staying at mine.”

“As long as it’s tidier than your room at the Abbey I’m fine,” Bryan said.

Ian snorted. “Yeah it is. Not that that’s hard. I swear I still have the marks from the last inspection we had and I got totally bollocked for the state of my room.”

Ian’s smile faltered and he gave a small shudder. The beating for that crime wasn’t nearly as bad as that one.

Bryan noticed this. “Ian…” he said gently – or as gently as he could make it. “You never did tell anyone what happened down in -,”

“Don’t!” Ian snapped, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. “Just… don’t. It’s fine. It was nothing.”

Bryan raised an eyebrow. “You can’t curl around it forever. You’re deluding yourself.”

“And you don’t keep yours secret?” Ian snapped.

Bryan was silent for a while. “Tala knows.”

“You always did tell Tala everything.”

“You always told Spencer everything.”

Ian snickered. “Touché.”

“But you didn’t go and see him after that time. You even went to the infirmary.”

“Leave it.” Ian’s voice was cold again.

“Okay, okay.” Bryan sighed and looked out of the window, glancing at Ian’s reflection in the window glass. ‘I’m not dropping this, Ian,’ he thought. ‘Even the thought of what happened is hurting you, never mind the thought of what could happen, that it could happen again.’

The rest of the drive was in silence, Ian glaring silent daggers at the road and Bryan dozing quietly. When Bryan woke properly some hour or so later, they were driving through the darkened streets of Moscow at night time.

“It’s not like you to let your guard down like that,” Ian said with a small smile.

Bryan grunted. “I was tired.”

“There’s a first,” Ian muttered dryly. Bryan snorted.

Ian turned into a car park and parked neatly, the nose of the car facing the wall. He yawned widely and rubbed his face. “Let’s get you in the flat. I’ll see how much food I’ve got, we’ll probably order in though.” Ian yawned again. “I don’t particularly want to cook.”

“What time is it?” Bryan asked.

“Just after eight.” Ian opened the door and got out of the car, Bryan following suit. The indicators flash twice and there was a small beep as Ian locked the car and flicked through the key chain for his apartment keys.

“Evening Yvette, Arlene,” Ian said, nodding to two cleaners in their mid-thirties. He received two smiles in return but they faltered as they saw Bryan.

“Up here,” Ian said, stepping in the elevator. He hit the button for level five and leant against the metal wall of the lift, his arms folded and dark hair falling in his face.

“Don’t fall asleep yet,” Bryan said after a while.

“I’m not,” Ian said, looking up. He blew his hair out of his face and glared.

“You should have kept your goggles. At least they kept your hair out of your face.”

Ian lifted a hand and pushed his bangs back. “It’s tied back. I just haven’t cut it in a while.”

“A while being six years?”

Ian’s retort was cut off as the lift jarred to a halt and the doors slid open. He stepped into the simply furnished corridor and walked stiffly to the end door – he was still pissed off.

The door swung open after he unlocked it and he pulled his coat off as he went inside. “Make yourself at home,” Ian said, throwing his coat onto the hook on the wall.

The apartment was quite large, the living room and kitchen separated by a partition wall and several other doors. Bryan shut the door behind him and sat on one of the black leather sofas, kicking off his shoes and watched Ian bustle around the kitchen.

“Coffee?” the blue haired youth said.

“Please,” Bryan replied. “Black.”

“I remember,” Ian said.

Sometime later Ian came over, two steaming mugs in his hands. He raised an eyebrow at Bryan who smirked as he took his coffee. “You said make yourself at home.”

“I guess.” Ian sat in the armchair and reached over for the newspaper. Almost as soon as he settled into the soft leather, the phone on the kitchen wall began to ring. Ian swore and stood up again, throwing Bryan a rude gesture as the lavender haired man started laughing.

“Svatkowski,” Ian snapped down the phone. He blinked and smiled. “Désolé, chéri, j'étais au travail.” 1

Bryan blinked. Was that… French?

Indeed, his old team-mate was conversing in what seemed like fluent French. Although Bryan’s curiosity was tweaked, he didn’t say anything, as much as he would like to know who Ian was talking to.

Especially since Ian was still there ten minutes later.

He had untied his blue hair, long lock cascading over his back and shoulders as he leant against the counter in the kitchen. Suddenly there was a knock at the door and Ian jumped.

His eyes narrowed. “Mags, you haven’t come to surprise me have you?” he said. Bryan blinked at the sudden change of tone and language.

Ian grunted. “I’ll call you back. Mags?” Ian frowned at the receiver and set it down on the counter carefully. He stepped towards the door cautiously and opened it.

A fist came flying at Ian’s face but the short man had already ducked, slamming his attacker in the gut. The tall black clothed man fell to the floor with a grunt, but it left Ian no time to defend against another man’s fist.

Bryan shot out of his place on the sofa as Ian was catapulted backwards into the kitchen counters. A tall, burly man with short blond advanced upon Ian, a knife drawn. His arm swung down towards Ian’s head but the blue haired man moved, the knife only scraping his shoulder.

“Hey,” a voice said behind the blond man. The attacker froze and turned around slowly.

Bryan’s eyes narrowed, his muscles tightening under his white t-shirt. “Don’t do that,” he said. The blonde’s head snapped back with a crunch before he knew what hit him.

Ian looked down at the two unconscious men, noting the all-too familiar logo on their black clothing. “Thanks,” he said, throwing his brown coat on. “Grab your stuff. We’re moving.”

“Where?” Bryan asked.

“I’m not sure yet.”

Bryan didn’t dare argue – clearly Boris knew where Ian was and was trying to get rid of him.

The Moscow streets seemed even more foreboding as Ian drove quickly in silence. He pulled into a side alley quickly and slipped out of the car. Bryan followed, unnerved by the extremely pissed off look on Ian’s face. They slipped into another set of flats, taking the stairs to the third floor. Ian reached for the keyhole on the door of room 24 and froze as it swung open a few centimetres.

“Someone’s here,” he murmured quietly. His hand snaked into his pocket and pulled out a black gun, the metal shining in the dim light. He deactivated the safety switch and lifted his foot carefully.

The door opened with a slam and Ian had his arms outstretched, gun pointing in the room. The thing was there was another gun at his temple – but only for a while.

Ian sighed in relief, his arms dropping to his sides and his adversary – a short young woman with long chestnut hair – let go of her gun and threw her arms around Ian’s neck.

“Mon Dieu, merci Dieu,” 2 she gasped into his shoulder.

“Come on,” Ian said quietly. “We need to keep moving.”

The woman stepped back and wiped her eyes. She blinked at Bryan behind Ian and raised an eyebrow at her friend.

Ian huffed. “Admin cocked up the safe house arrangements. Proper introductions later – Magali, Bryan. Bryan, Magali.” He turned on his heel and strode down the corridor.

Bryan looked taken aback at Ian’s swift exit and glanced at Magali. She shrugged and quickly followed the blue haired man.

Bryan took the back seat of the car this time as Ian pulled out into the road again. It wasn’t long, however, until something went wrong again.

“Shit,” Ian said as he went around the roundabout twice more unnecessarily.

“What?” Bryan and Magali said together.

Ian looked in his wing mirrors at the red SUV again. “We’re being tailed. Hang on to your seatbelts…” He swerved onto the wide motorway and pressed his foot hard on the pedal.

There was little traffic on the road as it was night time, but it made it much harder to get away from their pursuers. Ian growled, his red eyes flicking from the road to the mirrors.

There were several pinging noises and the sound of metal scratching along metal. Bryan ducked as the gunfire continued and Ian swerved to dodge some of the bullets.

“Fuck, that’s my new car you bastards!” he shouted in Russian.

“I don’t think I want to know what he said,” Magali muttered.

“You don’t,” Bryan assured her.

“Magali,” Ian snapped. “Take the wheel.”

“What?” she said.

Ian slammed his hand on a switch and the sunroof opened. He yanked back on the handbrake, the car swerving sideways to a halt. “Take the wheel!” he almost shouted.

Magali quickly scrambled over him as he slipped out of his seat and hoisted himself through the sunroof. He took aim and fired his gun, his blue hair flying behind him in the Russian wind. He shot at the approaching car several times, trying to aim for the wheels, but it was proving difficult as Magali started driving.

Ian ducked back into the car and swore again. He reached over the passenger seat and yanked open the glove box. “How you holding up Bryan?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m just fine,” Bryan said dryly.

“Good,” Ian answered. He pulled out an object that stirred something in Bryan’s memory, but he only had a glimpse of it before Ian went out into the open again.

Ian pulled his arm back quickly, a curious ripping sounding echoing around the car. Bryan looked out of the back window at a purple object flying towards the car. There was a bright purple light and a huge snake appeared, its fangs bared.

“Wyborg…” Bryan breathed.

The snake reared and grabbed the car, tossing it over in a swift movement. The snake twisted and grabbed the car again, crushing it in it’s coils before throwing it down the bank into a ditch. The purple blade shot back to the car and the snake vanished.

Ian collapsed back into the car, his face drenched in sweat and his breathing heavy. Magali glared at him.

“You silly bastard,” she said. “Let’s get you back to your old flat.”

xXx

The high rise flat wasn’t nearly as nice as Ian’s previous two – it was small, dingy, very much like Bryan’s own in St Petersburg. Ian stumbled in the door and fell flat on his back on the old sofa.

“You’ve not been training, have you?” Bryan said with a smirk.

“And you have?” Ian snapped back. Bryan winced – his own blade was in a small box in his bag, locked and probably almost ruined. Sometimes he heard the mournful call of a falcon in his dreams – but they were just dreams. They had to be.

Ian accepted a glass of water of Magali with a murmured ‘thank you’ before he drained the glass. “I’ve not been totally neglecting it – I just haven’t fought anything that big before. Besides, Wyborg was ready to crush them to death; he took a lot of control.” Ian peeled off his brown jacket and moved his legs so Magali could sit on the sofa.

“Ian!” she said suddenly. “You’re hurt!”

“Huh?” Ian looked down at his right arm and the caking blood around the ripped sleeve. “Oh yeah… it’s alright, nothing life threatening.”

“I’ll find some bandages,” Bryan said with a sigh. “That was that knife guy back at your nice place, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Ian said. He smiled at Magali. “Don’t worry Mags. I’m fine.” He lifted his arm and pulled Magali towards him in a one armed hug. “Why are you in Russia anyway? I wasn’t expecting you for a few weeks.”

Magali shrugged. “Neither was I. But my last case got wrapped up quicker than expected.” There was a pause before she continued. “Je me suis ennuyé de toi.” 3

“J'ai parié que je me suis ennuyé de toi advantage,” 4 Ian replied.

Bryan looked up from the top cabinet to see Ian tilting his head to meet Magali’s as he kissed her deeply. He blinked and continued rummaging in the cabinet. ‘Well shit.’ Had Ian actually grown up that much?

Bryan pulled out a roll of bandage, gauged the distance and threw it at Ian’s head. The roll hit its target and Ian recoiled. “Hey! Bastard!”

Magali was giggling at Ian’s scandalised look as he reached onto the floor to retrieve the bandage. “Please keep lovey dovey to a minimum when I’m around,” Bryan said as he sat on the floor. “But you can tell me how long you two have been an item.”

“Two years, almost three,” Ian said.

“Two years, ten months and twenty four days,” Magali said with a sigh.

“You count?” Ian said, blinking.

“No!” Magali answered quickly, reddening. Ian smiled and kissed his girlfriend’s cheek.

Bryan smirked. “How an earth did you get such a hot catch then, Ian?”

Ian scowled but Magali smiled. “Hot? You think so?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“Back off Kuznetsov.”

“Hey, your pride’s safe, Ian, I don’t think Magali’s my type.” Bryan yawned and stared out of the window.

“Yeah, Bryan’s too tall as well,” Magali said. The Falcon snapped out of his reverie and gave Magali his usual half smirk. He nodded to Ian next her, the blue haired man having fallen fast asleep.

Magali rolled her eyes and scooted out of the way as Bryan lifted Ian up easily, setting him on the shabby bed in the next room. He shut the door behind him and stepped to look out of the window overlooking most of Moscow, the full moon shining down through the clear sky.

“How long have you known Ian, then?” Magali asked.

Bryan turned around, silhouetted against the light from the window. “Too long,” he said with a smirk. “I don’t honestly know. I haven’t seen him in five years. Surely he’s talked to you?”

“He’s talked about the Abbey, if that’s what you mean,” Magali said. “I know of it, read cases… seen what he worked with for a while…” Magali looked sad, her bright purple eyes shining with unshed tears.

“What did he work with?” Bryan said.

“He had… all the cases from the Abbey. They needed cataloguing, the… the families of the dead needed contacting. Each time he was reading a file, he’d go all distant. I’ve even read some of them… it’s horrible.”

Bryan was furious. “Why the hell did Dickenson make Ian do that?”

“Ian offered to do it. Silly bugger.”

“You’ve got that right. He’s been through more than enough. He… wouldn’t have happened to tell you about what happened before the championships, do you?”

“Something happened?” Magali blinked. “No… do you know?”

“No... That’s the thing. He was taken down the dungeons, beaten at least we know that much. He couldn’t play the next day and he even went to the infirmary.” Bryan sat down on the sofa next to Magali. “He hates hospitals and anything remotely like them – he always went to Spencer for first aid.” Bryan snorted. “He didn’t even tell Spencer what happened. He’s told no one.”

“He’s always been really self conscious about his back,” Magali said. Bryan blinked in confusion, but Magali went on. “He’s got scars across the length of it, shaped into characters, possibly Cyrillic and by the looks of it they were actually sliced into the skin, possibly with a semi blunt instrument. They were pretty deep too – the scars are really clear. He was desperate to know whether I understood any Russian or not – which I don’t – before he showed me.”

“And something he didn’t want me, Spencer or Tala to see…” Bryan breathed. “Wait until we find Spencer and Tala – tell them exactly what you told me. They’re more likely to find out than me.”

“Ian said you two rarely saw eye to eye,” Magali said. “He missed you all, you know – he never said it, but I knew. He still has nightmares, even now.”

“Don’t we all,” Bryan murmured.

Somewhere across the night sky, a falcon called mournfully into the night.

xXx

Whoo! First chapter! What do you think?

Okay, just a few notices – Winter’s Salvation will be updated sometime… soon, hopefully. Certainly within in the next month. Finding Takao – I need more inspiration! Damn! I’m ALMOST there, one chapter to go people, enjoy it while it lasts XD. Anything else you desperately want updating? Message me, please, I will get back to you asap.

This one, however, I will see through, because I think it’s awesome and it’s a tribute to the dead Ian in most of my other fics XD

Oh! And the French translations:

1 Sorry, darling, I was at work.

2 My God, thank god

3 I missed you

4 I bet I missed you more.

Awww, ain’t that cute? XD