Sherbet Mayhem: Hey and howdy guys, me again. Just to say that if this story is really cruddy then . . . well, I was gonna say don't blame me, but seeing as I wrote it, then it only makes sense to blame me if it's crap . . . anyhow . . . um, yeah, I've not actually thought of a plot yet. I have no idea what this story is going to be about! Just gonna write and see where it leads me. Lol. Review – and flames will be accepted, as we are getting the central heating fixed and the house is rather chilly! They will keep me toasty warm! I just decided to write something a bit trashy and not as long or vivid as my other stuff – it takes too long! So I hope you enjoy and please, be gentle with the reviews! Also, I may use songs and stuff like that. Please try and be constructive!
Oh, and I don't own Beyblade – or much else, for that matter. Merely a small dovetail saw and a piece of cheese. So helpful . . . mmm, cheese . . .
Chapter One: Worlds Collide
"GET DOWN, TYSON!"
Tyson started, the thought taking a moment to register in his mind. Just in time he dropped to the floor, all of his muscles going completely limp as he smacked into the ground and watched the bullet whiz over his head with astonishing speed.
"Damn it, that was too close for comfort," he thought to himself, his grey-blue eyes searching the area for his assailant. He was faced by a multitude of crumbling faded buildings, their stones disintegrating as he watched. Explosions rattled the ground underneath him. Swallowing hard, he stood up, brushing as much rubble off his khaki pants as he had time to.
"This ain't no fashion parade, Tyson! Get over here!"
Hearing the deep, sharp call of his Captain, Tyson glanced to his left, where he could see a small group taking cover in a nearby alleyway. It would take him about twenty seconds to run over there. Risky, yes, but once there he would be completely safe.
His teeth grit in stolid determination, Tyson sprang from the slaughtered garden wall he had been crouching behind and began to run, his feet pounding almost as loudly as his heart did. Right and left he could hear gunshots, could smell the aftermath of destruction, and not too far away, he could hear the tortuous sounds of massive explosions, rocking the earth and destroying all who dared brave the storm – or could not escape it.
Through bouncing vision, Tyson watched his haven draw closer. Stones flew about his feet as he kicked up the dust of the dead in his trail. His breath ripped in and out in desperate rags as he tore across the desolate city square – all that was left of the busiest square in the city of Tokyo.
"I'm gonna make it!" he thought, half smiling as the alleyway came within reach. With a determined cry, he sought within himself for that last burst of energy that would take him to the safety of his companions.
A shot from the left caught his eye, and his newfound instincts forced him to dive into the ground. Fortunately, the momentum of the dive was enough to land him in the alleyway. Unfortunately, the alley was now under attack. His haven had been invaded in such a short space of time!
Tyson knew he was in a position of vulnerability. He instantly covered his head, as he had been taught, and wormed forwards, still listening intently to all around him. He uncovered his head once a little further into the alley. And found himself facing a boot. He automatically fumbled for his hand pistol, safely tucked into his black belt. Meanwhile, he looked up at whom he had come into contact with.
He found himself looking up at the face of his Captain.
Kai Hiwatari stood tall, gazing to the front of the alleyway with a stern face, almost as if he were mentally preparing himself for the massacre ahead. Only one side would come out of this alive.
Tyson scrambled to his feet, watching Kai as he did so. His Captain was an impressive sight. Predatory in his combat camouflage, Kai had removed his armguards and scarf. The blue slashes he still wore on his face as camouflage, and he had tied a strip of khaki material, an assortment of greens and creams in colour, around his forehead to keep his floppy hair out of his face. There simply hadn't been time to shave every soldier's head, nor aptly train them for battle. Kai, fortunately for Tyson's squadron, had already been trained in war like manoeuvres. He wore his ammunition – a string of small black clips – slung over his shoulder and across his chest loosely, and in his hands he held a lethal black HK machine gun, in the relaxed position for now. At his hips hung two Uzis in their holsters, and Tyson knew that he carried a pistol hidden from view. Occasionally he had seen Kai use a Desert Eagle Revolver, but right now he didn't have his pack on and so had no way to carry it. Tyson was often jealous of all of the impressive artillery that his Captain was allowed to use – but then again, Tyson doubted that he could skilfully handle the weapons Kai used.
"On your feet, Tyson,"
Tyson sprang up, grabbing his pistol and loading it, ready for the shot.
"What's the plan, Kai?"
Kai paused, just about to move forward, his HK rising slowly into the deadly position. It could fire off in a rapid burst, depending on how many clips were available to it. Kai didn't bother to look at Tyson when he replied:
Tyson nodded, sighing.
"That's good with me. Though I think it's a bit vague."
Kai didn't listen to the majority of Tyson's response. Upon seeing that the alleyway was getting a little too crowded for his liking, he sprang forward, each footfall precise and steady, and entered into the mill of enemy soldiers.
Perhaps a brief history lesson is in order. The Blade-Breakers are remembered, correct? That lucky team of Beybladers who had potentially saved the world by defeating an evil organisation called BIOVOLT. However, the story did not end there. Immediately after the arrest of the ringleader, Voltaire, the organisation had gone to its backup plan.
BIOVOLT had immediately launched a massive attack on Japan, the world's most productive country at the time. Bringing down Japan would have an after effect on the rest of the world – slowing trade down to a minimum and making communications difficult – not to mention wreaking havoc in the stock market. Japan had called to her allies to help, of course, but it would take a while for China and Britain to rally their forces.
It seems impossible that a mere organisation should be able to challenge three giant countries, with phenomenal power and authority. However, every single world leader had underestimated BIOVOLT – originally formed in Russia. It held at least six million members – of whom all were highly trained soldiers, even if a good proportion of them were under the age of eighteen.
Japan had immediately introduced conscription – every male of the age of eighteen and over was forced to join the army (at the time, Japan did not believe in having women fight on the front line. However, many women were conscripted into the forces to work in the air force or the services that did not involve direct combat – for example, computing at headquarters). In spite of this, the army was not big enough to counter the massive, lethal forces that BIOVOLT washed up. The conscription age was quickly lowered to sixteen, and then fourteen. Tyson had felt rather unlucky when the conscription age was lowered one day after his fourteenth birthday.
The war had been raging for six months now. China and Britain were still gathering forces and had not been able to send help yet. Most countries were attempting to keep their noses clean and were avoiding becoming involved in the war. Japan had suffered enormous casualties in the short space of half a year. Almost half of their entire army had been demolished in the first three months! She could not hold her own and very soon Japanese forces had been pushed back, made to retreat into their own land that they were so ferociously trying to protect.
Eastern Japan had been completely taken over, and was now under the control of BIOVOLT. Slave labour camps – similar to the ghettos of World War Two – had been introduced and thousand of innocent Japanese citizens had been forced to succumb to horrendous treatment there. The Japanese government – having realised that their chances were slim if the capital was taken – had sent their most elite forces to protect Tokyo.
The majority of these forces had been ripped apart in the first week.
Tyson had no idea how his squadron had survived. Based on the fact that the boys knew each other, Kai, Max, Kenny and Tyson had been placed in the same squadron. Rei, of course, was Chinese, and so would be joining them eventually when the Chinese army was finally trained up. Three days of barely any food had exhausted Tyson's squad, and yet they fought on bravely. They were under siege.
What was left of the Japanese best had gathered at the city centre square early that morning in the hope of making a last stand against the vicious BIOVOLT forces – and were slowly being brought to their knees. About half of the troops were casualties – the word casualty being defined as military dead, wounded or taken captive.
As Tyson watched the mob of soldiers, unable to even tell who was winning or losing, he felt a wave of depression wash over him. The world had fallen into a deep, dark hole, where slaughter of one's own species was the only way to survive.
"This is terrible!" he thought in anguish – but now was no time to think. He heard the click of a rifle behind him, and winced, expecting to feel his head explode as the bullet shredded through it.
He opened his eyes again after he heard the blast, and yet felt no pain. Confused, he turned around, to find himself looking into the freckly face of his best friend Max. He had shot the enemy through the chest, and the BIOVOLT soldier lay dead on the floor. Tyson had heard Max's pistol shot, not the enemy's.
Tyson hated to admit that Max had changed for the worse since the war. Back in the days of innocent Beyblading, Max had been a cheeky, contented lad, his blue eyes bright with youthful naivety. Now his eyes clouded over with rage. War had hardened his heart and made a killer of him. As it had of them all, but Max had become cold, cruel, in the midst of battle. He suffered no qualms about killing, whilst Tyson had to really strive to pull the trigger. Certainly, Max was a happy boy when out of battle, but as soon as he was in the middle of a brawl, he became trigger happy, and it hurt Tyson to see it. It tore him apart inside to see his teammates – who had once been innocent boys – mowing down members of BIOVOLT as if their lives meant nothing to them.
"Better be careful, Tyson," stated Max in a hard tone, "It isn't safe to daydream here. Get shooting."
Tyson winced at the last remark. How it pained him to hear his friend talk in such a crude, unfeeling manner. Still, he had a point. If Tyson wanted to stay alive – which, as Kai had stated, was the idea – he would have to defend himself if not attack BIOVOLT. He looked over to where the biggest scrabble was.
The sound of bullets ricocheting suddenly resounded in the air, and Tyson saw a small circle of BIOVOLT soldiers – masked in black combat clothes – fall to the ground, clutching at their shins. Kai stood in the middle, his HK smoking, the chips spattering to the floor with thousands of tiny metal clinks. Kai had let rip with the HK. That was certainly something Tyson admired about Kai – despite his cold, pitiless front, he tried his best not to kill members of the opposite side. He merely tried to take them down and out by injuring them. It sounds like a rather pathetic mercy to have; yet Tyson agreed that it was better than slaughtering the enemy and losing one's heart.
Kai stepped over the nearest grimacing soldier and let his HK hang from the chord about his neck. It was out of clips. Tyson jogged over to him as the sounds of gunfire started to die down. Kai stood silent, surveying the scene before him. It was a ruin. At least fifty BIOVOLT soldiers lay dead or dying upon the floor. The whole prospect was splattered with scarlet blood. Cries of agony occasionally split the air.
As Tyson approached, Kai pulled out his Uzis. These were his favourite weapons. Although finding clips for them was often a difficulty, they were the most dangerous of his entire arsenal, with an extremely rapid firing rate. They also allowed Kai to move about a lot more when he was firing – compared to the powerful yet stationary HK. He could not move when using it. He cocked the guns and looked at Tyson.
Tyson nodded as Max joined him. Max looked strange in army uniform. He looked almost out of his depth – yet as Tyson had found he certainly was well within his deepness.
"That was awesome, Kai! We took out their whole troop!"
Kai nodded, letting his gloved hands rest at his side, armed with the Uzis. "Yeah, but there'll be more. And we've suffered a lot."
The three boys looked around and searched for a sign of green movement. Unlike the Japanese forces, BIOVOLT would not be contended with leaving survivors. Scattered upon the floor of the square lay the bodies of many Japanese soldiers. They were all undoubtedly dead – BIOVOLT left nobody alive if they had already been shot. It was vicious, this war. Savage. As Tyson had adequately put it one night, "Like something out of a horror movie."
With his sharp eyesight, Kai spotted three Japanese soldiers to the right of the square, squatting behind a wall. He called them over, at the same time as spotting a couple more of their allies. All in all, including Max, Tyson and Kai, eleven members of the sixty strong squad were remaining. That wasn't including Kenny – the lookout. Currently, Kenny was back at the secluded headquarters, a little way east of Tokyo hidden deep in a thick forest, watching them all on his highly advanced computer system. He had certainly upgraded from a simple laptop. He and Dizzi now controlled a fleet of computer systems – their own little network of databases and information.
One of the surviving soldiers, named Dave, approached Kai, Tyson and Max.
"Success, eh guys?"
Kai raised his eyebrows. "You could call it that."
Max seemed more enthusiastic. "Did you see the way I took down the tall guy? That was so amazing!"
Dave smiled, his brown eyes lighting his handsome features. He was tall, with shaved, almost black hair, and a rather serious face. He was a light-hearted fellow, always up for a joke. He and Tyson got along extremely well.
"Well, the Chief just radioed me. He keeps telling us to fall back."
"Why didn't he radio me?" Kai asked to no one in particular, puzzled and looking down at his waist where his own radio hung.
The radio had fallen off in the middle of the battle. Kai grinned, a rare moment when he was on the battlefield. He liked to keep serious most of the time.
"I'll bet Kenny thinks I'm dead or something!"
Dave and Tyson laughed. "He'll be panicking so bad!"
After a moment of quick searching, Kai caught sight of his small, shiny black walkie-talkie radio underneath a small pile of rubble. He picked it up, grinning even more when he heard the frantic voice of Kenny through the speaker.
"Okay, Chief. I'm here. What's new?"
"RETREAT!!! Get back NOW!!! Fall back to headquarters!"
Kai sharpened up automatically, hearing the serious panic in Kenny's frantic little shrill.
"Repeat that, Chief?"
"Is that you Kai?"
"Yeah, what's going on?"
"Fall back! There's a huge . . . and I mean HUGE . . . wave of BIOVOLT troops on their way! I'm talking five or six hundred soldiers at the least!"
Kai's eyes widened, stunned. His deep brown pupils glanced around wildly, not focusing, but simply moving in fear as he thought rapidly, trying to make sense of things and figure out a plan. Tyson's heart sank as he listened to Kenny's words. They had gathered around the radio to listen in.
"Did he say six hundred?" asked Max, suddenly looking very afraid. His features had abruptly lost their ferocious bloodlust from earlier.
"Kenny, are you sure?" Tyson spoke into the radio. There was a slight cackle as the reception worsened, and Kenny's reply could not be made out.
"What? What was that?" said Dave in his deep voice, masked in solemnity and seriousness.
Kai was not listening to the radio, nor it's crackle of interference. "Guys," he whispered, barely audible, "Listen!"
Suddenly, ignoring the sound of the radio, the boys pricked up their ears and listened to the air. Almost straight away they heard the depressingly close sound of troops marching.
"They must be two blocks away at the very most," said Tyson hoarsely, his heart suddenly thudding again.
"We have to move," said Kai, his voice commanding respect. He had the ability to fluctuate the tone of his voice in an instant – from humorous to serious to authorative in a matter of seconds. The soldiers straightened up at their Captain's command. Being sixteen, Kai had been involved in the war slightly longer than the other, younger members of his squadron. His experience had made him stand out to the Ranking Officials and Officers and he had been promoted to Captain just before conscription of fourteen-year-old boys had been introduced.
"Take the street to your left!" came Kenny's almost shrieking voice. Kenny had always been the type to panic easily. "They haven't reached it yet!"
Kai nodded, and the other ten boys agreed. Kenny could see everything that was going on from where he sat, and so it made sense to listen to his commands. He was like a radar system that talked instead of bleeped.
"Dave, you lead. Don't bother scouting. Kenny can look after that for us. Eyes open, boys."
The boys all nodded, their orders clear. Kai and his squadron prided themselves on being able to keep calm in a situation of great peril – well, with the exception of Kenny, that is. They set off in a single file line, weapons at the ready, looking out cautiously for an ambush. The eleven remaining of them – no matter how well trained – were absolutely no match for what was following them. Another worry was that BIOVOLT had extremely advanced technology and would be tracking them too. They would have to move very quickly to escape an all out clash.
As the others moved away, Kai surveyed the scene quickly. He knew he had little time, but it was his duty to look for survivors amongst the wreckage. Beside it being a regulation, Kai would have felt indecent if he had not checked for anyone still alive. He quickly ran amongst the piles of corpses, the smell of blood overpowering. One would think that sights like these would be nauseating, but Kai had become desensitised to violence. It didn't sicken him anymore. This was a common occurrence amongst men of war.
No matter how desensitised he was, Kai couldn't help a lurch of his heart when he saw one of his friends, Private Kawada, laying on the floor, his eyes open and glazed with death, and a bright red bullet hole in the middle of his forehead, the blood snaking in a trail into one of his eyes. Kai shook his head, and then carried on, knowing that there was not time to mourn, nor time to be distracted. He had a job to do.
He made his way through all of the men lying on the rubble-filled floor. Each man poured crimson. He could see no survivors.
As he was walking, Kai felt his boot crunch across something hard. He looked down, and to his dismay found that he had stood on somebody's foot.
"Oh man . . . "
Annoyed that he had managed to stand on a dead man's foot, he sought the face of the owner. He discovered it was another of his friends, Dango, a small, wiry fellow with a head for numbers and a rash decision maker.
"Sorry, Dango," muttered Kai, looking away. He stepped away from the body and began to follow the others, who were fast disappearing through the street Kenny had directed. Only a rasping voice stopped him from continuing.
He turned, surprised, and found that Dango was alive. His eyes were wide open, if not a little dizzy looking. His face was dirty, brownish with mud and dirt from the shattered rocks and rubble he had been lying in. Directly in the centre of Dango's stomach was a tear in the skin, a deep bullet wound, where blood oozed in scarlet globules and clotted out onto the khaki coloured uniform.
"Dango?" said Kai, taken aback, and he moved to his stricken friend's side. Aware of the immediate danger they were both in, the sounds of the marching growing ever nearer, Kai hoisted his friend so he hung over his shoulder, made him as comfortable as possible, and began to move. It was difficult with another guy on his shoulders, but at least Dango was light.
Annoyed that he had lost sight of the others, Kai reached to his waist for his radio, tucked in safely at his black belt. However, it was a difficult task, as he was focusing on not dropping Dango and it was a two handed task. He fumbled around at his waist awkwardly, his fingers groping at his radio, but cried out in exasperation as it slipped and landed on the floor with a thud.
Growling, Kai swung around and bent down, picking up his radio. As he began to stand, he paused, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might rip right out of his chest. A shadow had fallen over him, and, looking forwards, away from the direction he was supposed to be travelling in (as he had turned to pick up the radio), he was faced by the front line of the army of BIOVOLT troops. The leader stood in the middle, about nine metres away, his ferocious appearance enough to make almost anybody quail at the knees. Kai watched as the leader gave an order in Russian, and the entire front line of the troop lifted their guns.
The guns aimed, and Kai's breath stood still, frozen in his throat.
Then they fired.
The world plays her angered symphony,
Lost inside eternal mystery.
The sky is falling,
Voices crying out in desperation,
Hear them calling,
You can never save yourself.
Sherbet Mayhem: Ooo, so how did you like it? It took me like an hour and a half to write, so it's not very good at all. If there are like hundreds of mistakes then I apologise. The lyrics were 'Late Great Planet Earth' by Plumb – who rocks!!! And I know the chapter title is absolutely crap. Lol. Well, as they say in Fanfiction land, 'Read and Review!'!!! Be brutal, be brutal . . . oh please don't be brutal, I'd die. Nah, I'm joking. Now click on that little button . . . yes, you know which one I mean . . . it says 'GO' on it! Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on! Or else I'll poo-poo tha lot o' yer! Hardy, hardy, hardy, hardy . . . aye, 'tis about time me catches a whale. Ar. Me be a fisher of the seven seas. And me be as crazy as a harpoon.
And I'll go start the second chapter!