Happy Thanksgiving! I figured I'd try something new and write about Team Star Breaker for a change! I found Jack was actually a lot of fun to write, but Damian was pretty tough. This is set sometime before the world championships, but after the American team has been selected. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy! Thanks for reading!
I do not own Metal Fight Beyblade.
Zeo dreaded going down to the dining room knowing full well Jack had taken it upon himself to spend the entire day decorating for the holiday.
Normally, celebrating Thanksgiving wouldn't have bothered him in the slightest, he would have looked forward to it actually, but ever since he'd joined HD Academy and become a member of Team Star Breaker, every waking moment had brought something new and wildly unexpected. If it wasn't Jack, then it was definitely Damian.
Zeo sighed. He reminded himself he was doing this for Toby's sake, and that everything would work out in the end.
Once downstairs, he stumbled into a mess of red, yellow, orange, and brown streamers dangling from where they had been hung to the ceiling. Blinking furiously, he pushed them aside, only to come face to face with a beaming Jack.
Zeo hopped back with a shocked cry, falling over as his foot violently smacked against the stairs. He lifted his head up just before it made contact with the steps.
"What was that for?" Zeo stood up, again pushing the streamers out of his way in frustration. He couldn't believe he had narrowly avoided suffering a concussion for this.
Jack paid no attention to his comrade's distress. "Isn't it wonderful? I can feel my creativity surging! Here, hold these."
Jack shoved several rolls of yellow streamers into Zeo's hands amid his protests. He called impatiently for Zeo to follow him, the latter doing so helplessly, and propped up a metal folding chair.
Zeo watched nervously as Jack jumped on the chair, which precariously wobbled beneath him. Jack ripped the streamer with ease, twisting it, then proceeded to start taping it up.
"Uh oh," Jack said suddenly as the chair swayed slightly, making scraping noises against the floor. "The ceiling's a little taller here. No matter, if I-"
His words were cut short with a shout as the chair finally collapsed under his weight. Jack went plummeting through the air, only to land on top of his poor, unexpecting teammate. Zeo cursed as the full force of Jack's weight brought him to the ground.
Somehow drawn to the chaos as if by a magnet, Damian took that moment to pop into the room, laughing maniacally.
Zeo cringed. Jack was one thing- over the top, yes, but manageable. Damian was something else entirely. When he wasn't receiving an arrangement, he could typically be found wherever the action was, if only to make the situation that much more tumultuous. With the two of them around, Zeo woke up every day thanking whatever higher power existed that he had yet to find himself in a full body cast.
"What are you two up to now?" He surveyed the room with a malicious grin.
Zeo scrambled to his feet quickly, shoving Jack off him.
"Ouch! You could have been nicer you know," Jack huffed, straightening as he picked up the streamers. "Well I guess that's the best we can do now that the chair has decided to become a disgrace. So useless!" He kicked it across the room, making a screechy metal sound echo resound throughout the room. Zeo covered his ears.
While Jack complained about his art being ruined to Damian, Zeo took the opportunity to slip out down the hallway.
The hallway had been decorated with spray paints. That was nothing new; ever since Jack had discovered his newfound appreciation for the arts, half the walls were covered in varying paints. Dr. Ziggurat had resigned himself to providing Jack with washable paints for the main rooms once he learned the pink-haired blader couldn't be stopped in his aims to beautify the entire world. In his own room, Jack was allowed to use whatever canvases and materials he pleased, and on more than one unfortunate occasion, Zeo had found himself as the canvas. It had taken days to completely wash the paint off.
Today, the walls had been decorated to reflect the holiday. Jack had painted what looked like a turkey in its natural habitat- at least that's what Zeo thought it was supposed to represent. The turkey was a swirling blend of bright pinks and cosmic purples. The sky was an unappealing shade of orange mixed with dark burgundy. Blue trees had been placed in the background.
Someone had stuck up hand turkeys that had been crudely cut from brown construction paper using duct tape. The turkeys exhibited a variety of expressions, ranging from despair and fear to one in particular that Zeo thought looked uncomfortably bloodthirsty.
Zeo wondered what Jack would do once he found out Damian had compromised his artwork once again.
He didn't stick around to find out. Zeo had barely been staring engrossed at the art adorning the walls for two minutes when he heard Jack and Damian tearing down the hall after him. Zeo jumped to the side down an adjoining hall, obscuring himself from view, hoping they wouldn't see him.
Before either of them could catch him, Zeo heard one set of footfalls stop short and cry out in anguish. That was no doubt Jack.
"Damian! Have you no culture?"
Zeo ignored them and made his way to the kitchen. He wasn't about to get wrapped up in another one of Jack's tirades about Damian sabotaging his "masterpieces". The room was empty, although he could smell the turkey cooking. A quick glance at the clock told him there was still another two hours before dinner. Zeo groaned. He honestly didn't know if he could make it that long.
The fridge was stocked with food for later, filled with cranberry sauces, breads, stuffing, butternut squash, and a plethora of desserts.
He shut it. If he took any of it beforehand, Dr. Ziggurat would somehow know. The doctor had an uncanny ability to know about everything going on at HD Academy and Zeo wasn't about to risk being on the receiving end of whatever the consequence would be.
Someone had left several drinks poured out on the counter in tall ornate champagne glasses. They looked just like the non-alcoholic sparkling ciders that Dr. Ziggurat routinely had available for his blading team when they were required to attend important dinners and meetings.
Shrugging, Zeo grabbed one. Whoever it was probably wouldn't miss one seeing as there were easily half a dozen sitting there, and Zeo was positive he had seen another container of the cider in the fridge. Besides, they were going to go flat sitting out in the open. He couldn't figure out why somebody had bothered to set up the drinks so early. They weren't expecting anyone else for Thanksgiving as far as he knew.
Zeo took a sip. A slight burning sensation tickled the back of his throat, but it was almost instantly replaced by a rush of cranberry.
Damian and Jack burst into the room. Zeo immediately downed the rest of his drink, sputtering at the sudden strength of it. Coughing, he tossed the empty glass out of sight behind him.
"Can you believe this heathen?" Jack asked, outraged. "He clearly has no appreciation for the finer things in life, no sense of aesthetics at all."
"Ha!" Damian laughed. "It's not my fault you make it so easy to mess with you, Jack."
"What are those?" The glasses on the counter caught Jack's attention as he sauntered over to them, distracting him from his momentary disdain for Damian. "Oh my, such a lovely shade of red. It's absolutely dazzling! And the lime wedges accented with the cherries, truly inspired!"
Damian watched the bubbles rise to the surface, entranced. "What are they?"
Zeo debated backing away and making a run for it, or staying and stopping anything further from happening. After he'd been forced to chug the rest of the drink, he'd had a pretty good idea why his throat was burning, not to mention he was feeling a little woozy all of a sudden.
The last thing he needed was for those two to get mixed up in it as well.
"Hey, guys, we should really probably leave those drinks alone. We don't know what they are, and I'm sure Dr. Ziggurat will be looking for them later," he cautioned.
Damian and Jack stared blankly at him. After what became a long, uncomfortable silence of his teammates looking at him, Jack sighed.
"I suppose you're right. It would be a crime after all to drink such pretty concoctions. If you need me, I have some decorating to finish up."
Jack had left the room for the moment, but now Damian smiled mischievously. Zeo cringed. The shorter boy was definitely up to something.
"So, you think I should leave these alone?" Damian's grin widened.
Zeo seriously regretted not leaving the room when he had the chance. Damian took one of the drinks, playing with the glass in his hands. The liquid sloshed up and down against the sides.
"You drink it."
Damian's eyes bore into him as he stuck the glass in Zeo's face.
Zeo pushed it away. "No way. I told you, Dr. Ziggurat will find out. It's not worth it."
"Oh, no he won't. How about this? If you have just one taste, only one, I'll let you go. Sound good?"
Zeo understood it wasn't worth arguing with Damian further. He felt bad for whoever would be up against Damian in the world championships once his bey was completed. Damian didn't know when to quit.
Zeo took the drink begrudgingly. As he placed it to his lips, Damian suddenly sprang up.
The entirety of the glass was forced down at once. Zeo found himself gagging once more, trying to keep himself from spitting everything back up. Eyes watering, he finally managed to look back at Damian.
"What was that for?" Anger flooded his voice.
Damian shrugged, providing only a half-smile. "I got the result I wanted. I'll leave you alone now."
Whipping his cape around him, the blue-haired blader vanished from sight. Zeo shuddered. Damian, in his creepy, unsettling way, reminded him a bit of a vampire. Between the cape, his sadistic nature, and the unnerving amount of time he spent in the coffin-esque arrangement chamber, the resemblance was more than a little disturbing.
At least he was gone for the moment. Zeo had more than anticipated to deal with now, and he wasn't certain he'd be able to handle it. The empty glasses on the counter were the least of his concerns.
Zeo started opening cabinets as quickly as he could. It had to be around somewhere.
He nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste, blinking furiously in a desperate attempt to clear his vision again.
Clearly, if he was going to find it, it wouldn't be easy accessible. Dr. Ziggurat wouldn't want them anywhere near the item in question, and understandably so. Carefully, Zeo climbed up on top of the counter.
He quickly found the liquor cabinet, thankful it wasn't locked, and examined the contents. He breathed a sigh of relief. The only bottle that was opened was the champagne. He could handle that; at least he hoped. He could have ingested something much stronger. Zeo didn't know what his tolerance was, but it couldn't be very high. As long as he got away from the kitchen as fast as possible without any interruptions, he would be fine.
Zeo fled in the direction of his room, planning on hiding out there as long as possible.
Meanwhile, Jack had almost finished up embellishing the halls to meet his standards. He barely paid Zeo any attention as he went flying past him up the stairs.
While admiring his work, Jack became aware of someone watching him.
"Damian, I would really appreciate it if you wouldn't observe me from the shadows. It's ghastly behavior hardly acceptable in civilized society."
"Fine," Damian emerged. "Jack, can you help me with something?"
Jack raised an eyebrow. "You're asking me for help?"
Damian nodded. "It's about Zeo. You know how he is, always moping around here. I think we should do something nice for him. It is Thanksgiving."
Jack was now paying little attention to Damian as he dumped his hands into a bucket of red paint. "Damian, I cannot possibly fathom why you of all people would want to help him. What are you up to now?" Jack removed his dripping hands from the paint and quickly applied the vivid color to the wall.
Knowing Jack was too deeply invested in his art to get him to move at the moment, Damian went back to the kitchen. Zeo had since left, but the remaining drinks were still on the counter. Damian shook his head. Those wouldn't work, not after earlier.
Instead, he took apple cider from the fridge, and began heating it up in a pan.
While that was going on, he maneuvered his way on to the counter, standing on his toes. Dr. Ziggurat was so predictable. Damian was confident he could find anything in the academy if he wanted to with minimal effort.
The liquor cabinet was brimming with various alcohols. Damian located the two he was looking for and jumped back to the floor.
Damian mixed in butterscotch schnapps and spiced rum with the warmed apple cider. Judging by the two empty glasses, Zeo had already had more than the one drink Damian had forced him to, and would probably be in an interesting state already. He likely wouldn't notice how strong the mixture Damian had concocted for him would be.
Of course, Damian wouldn't be delivering it. Even inebriated, Damian was certain Zeo would not accept another drink, or anything for that matter, from him. That was where Jack would come in.
Dr. Ziggurat touched his hand to his forehead, closing his eyes in frustration. He should have expected Thanksgiving with his world championship team would never have been the simple affair he'd hoped for. All he had intended to do was provide the three teenagers with a typical holiday experience, to remind them that HD Academy was more than just a blader training facility. Keeping them happy and entertained was certainly in his best interests as he conducted his research.
Zeo was jabbering a mile a minute about who knew what, with a glazed look over his eyes. Dr. Ziggurat had noticed earlier that two of the cranberry champagne cocktail glasses had mysteriously been emptied, but he never suspected Zeo had been the culprit.
Jack was poking and prodding his turkey into some questionable shape. A splotch of cranberry sauce had been placed on top of it. A lump of green bean casserole had already been meticulously moved to a very specific location at the bottom of the plate. Zealously, Jack took his knife and stabbed into the turkey.
Dr. Ziggurat knew as soon as the words were out he was going to regret asking. "Jack, what on earth are you doing?"
"I'm creating, isn't it obvious? From this turkey's mutilated flesh, I shall recreate an image of its former glory!"
Across the table, Damian tormented an innocent and gleefully oblivious Zeo.
"How are you feeling, Zeo?" He asked for the fifth time in as many minutes.
"Today is the best day everrr!" Zeo slurred. "Whoo!" Zeo lifted his fork, with a piece of turkey attached. The turkey went flying off the fork into the air, hitting the wall with a slap.
"Ooh! Interesting," Jack looked up from the mass of food he was cultivating on his plate. "So raw, yet so inspired! It combines the inherent barbaric nature of humans with the sophistication of tradition! Fabulous!"
Before Ziggurat had a chance to stop him, Jack flung the entire contents of his plate against the wall.
"Marvelous!"
"Food fight!" Zeo cheered.
Ziggurat ducked beneath the table in time to avoid a piece of bread that otherwise would have hit him squarely in the face.
Zeo stood up, wavering slightly, a silly grin plastered on his face. "I'm gonna throw the whole table!"
Ziggurat watched in horror as Zeo gripped the table and started to lift it up.
Suddenly, Zeo lost his footing, and stumbled to the ground in a heap. The table fell back, rattling the plates and silverware.
Zeo stood up, still unsteady. "I'm okay, I- I'm okay? What're we doing? What's this?" Zeo wandered back into the kitchen, staring at the cornbread he held in his hand in confusion.
"Damian, please go follow him and see that he doesn't get himself into any more mischief. I'll handle things in here," Ziggurat instructed. He would have preferred to send Jack after the intoxicated blader, but Jack was locked in his artistic element. Nothing short of an explosion would pull him out of it until he was finished. Jack now sat on the floor, carefully shaping some mashed potatoes.
Upon first entering the kitchen, Damian noticed there was still one cocktail left.
"Hey, Zeo, you want this?"
"Okay!" Zeo bounded over happily, taking the drink. "What's this?"
"Uh, cranberry juice," Damian cackled. "You should have it, I think you'll really like it!"
Zeo pounded the final drink, then swayed. "Hey, Damian, I-"
By the time Damian realized what was happening, it was already too late.
Damian tried to jump out the way, but Zeo toppled over on top of him, sending them both crashing to the floor.
"Zeo! Get off of me!" Damian struggled to get out from Zeo, but it proved impossible. The weight of the taller blader was too much for him. He couldn't wriggle free from where he was trapped.
"Damian!" Zeo wailed. "I forget how my legs are supposed to work!"
Dr. Ziggurat and Jack entered the room to see what chaos was now plaguing their holiday.
"Oh my," Jack shook his head. "You two really don't have any sense of class, now do you?"
Dr. Ziggurat looked forlornly between the mess in the dining room and the disaster on the kitchen floor. Damian uselessly tried to push Zeo off of him to no avail as Zeo slumped further on the ground, passing out with Damian imprisoned beneath him.
If this had been Thanksgiving, Ziggurat was afraid of what new calamity awaited them at Christmas.