Everybody's Gone to War
Title: Everybody's Gone to War
Rating: M
Pairings: Wait and see.
Summary: A boot camp? Are you kidding?
Disclaimer: Don't own jack.
Notes: All beybladers are around the 17-18 age level.
xxxxxx
The announcement had been dropped earlier in the week.
They didn't particularly like the idea, but if it delivered on what it had been promised to, they supposed they could handle it.
The idea itself? Why, none other than the Bladebreakers attending what some people liked to call a 'boot camp'.
They'd be there for a month or so, they'd been told. They'd also been informed that it was run by some of the top beybladers in the world, who'd put their noses to the grindstones and train them, harder than they'd ever trained in their lives. Day and night. Every day of the week – no rest. Through sun or shine, through hail or rain. They'd keep them training until their bodies were about to break down from exhaustion from pushing themselves so hard. They'd keep them training until their fingers bled from blading too much. It was harsh, Mr. Dickinson had said, but he guaranteed them all that it would definitely pay off in the end.
So, they'd spent the week packing – some of them excited at the prospect, some of them complaining about how tough it sounded. Now they were unloading their suitcases into the cabins they'd been assigned – all of their team members to one full cabin – and were prepping themselves to meet the camp leaders in a few minutes. The cabins were quite cool indeed; very well-designed. They were like little modern homes. Made entirely of wood and topped off by a chimney stacked on the rooftop that puffed out smoke every few seconds, it was partially hidden from view by large, leafy trees. Across from the cabin was a jetty that lead down into a vast lake. Inside the cabins were four bunk-beds, two to each. A door inside the cabin led to their bathroom, which had five sinks lined up in a row – with a mirror above them, of course. Five toilet stalls were right across from five shower stalls… there was something for each of them.
"This is so stupid," their loud-mouthed friend who went by the name of Tyson grumbled, pulling his hat down lower as the Bladebreakers started the walk towards the meeting grounds.
Kenny, the so-called 'nerd' of their group, looked over. He'd been typing something on his laptop as he walked, examining the grounds thoroughly. "Now, Tyson," he began, pushing his glasses a bit higher up on his head. "This camp is going to be a great opportunity for all of us. I would've thought that you of all people would be able to recognize this." His blue-haired team-mate merely rolled his eyes at his words.
"Yeah, but a boot camp? Come on!"
"Rigorous training and exercises do come up with the best results."
"Remind me again why I listen to you, Kenny?"
The kid with the glasses simply laughed and continued tapping something into his computer, muttering to himself all the while. His computer talked back, offering words of sympathy.
They made it to the meeting grounds, which turned out to be a patch of cool and hard concrete, located behind the mess hall and two-story cafeteria. Bey-stadiums had been carefully carved into the ground, some with intricate designs, patterns and locales inside of them, some just regular ones. "Not bad," Ray nodded in approval as his amber eyes quickly scanned the grounds. He sounded fairly impressed. "Not bad at all."
"Hah, this is hardly the beginning." A voice came from behind them. Their team turned to look. It was a pack of girls, who seemed to just be arriving. "And you know this how?" Max asked the one who'd spoken, she too a blonde. She grinned at him. "I came here last year. I know all the ins and outs of this place."
"Cute. But isn't this place a little too extreme for you girls? Scared you might break a nail?" Ray jumped in, jokingly. The blonde just chuckled. "Hate to break it to you, but at the end of the camp, there's a competition. It's called the Assault Course Challenge. You have to run and fight your way through a course that the leaders have laid out, and, at the end, you have to face your respective opponent in a bey battle. Believe me, it's not easy."
"It's just two teams for the whole month?" The redhead beside the blonde shook her head furiously. "Nope. The male leader takes two teams and the female leader takes two teams. Last year, we had the male leader – he was cool as hell." Ray cocked an eyebrow in curiousity. "And the female leader?" The redhead shrugged. "We actually haven't met her before this."
The brunette who was also with them nodded her head in the other direction. "I'd assume that's her though."
Everyone turned around, to where a girl stood. She hardly looked any older than them… if they guessed correctly; she'd be about eighteen years old. Her black tresses were scooped back into a high ponytail, with her fringe pulled into a quaff on the top of her head. She was decked out in a black button down shirt with silver lining on it and blue jeans, looped around her waist with a black studded belt. The thing that completed this ensemble was the scowl on her features, anger shining from her green eyes.
"Yeah," she began speaking, taking a few steps forward as she spoke. "I'm her. And one of my first instructions as leader today is for all of you to get in a straight line in front of me. Now."
None of them moved.
"I said NOW!"
Whoa.
The tone of her voice made them all move at once, assembling themselves into a neat line in front of her. The females were standing on the left-hand side, males on the right.
"Right," she barked. "State your names."
Charli. Jackie. Hayley. Zoe. Tyson. Max. Ray. Kenny. Kai.
"I'm Tori." She started walking up and down the line, glaring at each and everyone one of them in the eye as she passed them. "And you will be under my wing for this next month or so. You will be living without luxury comforts – no phones, no internet, and no nothing – for this whole goddamned time. You will be practicing under my terms, at my times, wherever and whenever I see fit. Do not argue, do not complain, do not whine or anything of the sort… otherwise whatever exercises and tasks you will be given, no matter the difficulty of it, will be doubled. Perhaps even tripled, it depends on how I'm feeling that day, quite frankly. I will push you so hard that you will even wonder why you agreed to come on this camp… rest assured it will be all worth it in the end, of course. You're not training under the top beybladers in the world for no reason."
Her green eyes flashed as she glared at them all.
"Any questions?"
Everyone, bewildered, shook their heads.
"Right. Now, you see all these bey-stadiums? They're here for a reason. So get moving!"
They divided up into groups of two, with Kenny sitting on the sidelines to watch. He sat cross-legged, by himself, Dizzi on his lap. He immediately went to the nearest Search Engine and began researching the girl named 'Tori', wanting to know more about her. To be honest, he hadn't heard anything about her prior to five minutes ago… so now he was fascinated about her, fascinated to know more – anything he could find would be nice.
Meanwhile, the girl herself was walking around the groups, eyeing them carefully, occasionally offering a nod of approval if she liked what was going on there. She stopped at the group of Max and the brunette girl, Zoe. An eyebrow raised.
"You call this beyblading?"
Max merely shot her a weird look, putting all of his concentration back into the match he was having.
"Stop. Right now!"
And so they did.
Everyone else stopped to stare.
"What the hell was that?" She cried. When neither of them replied, she shook her head, frustrated at them. "This camp is supposed to be for the world's top beybladers, not some pre-school kids who think they've got what it takes to be the best. We obviously made a mistake accepting you two here, I think."
"Hey!" Tyson, who'd clearly heard enough, stepped forward. "They're trying their best, leave them alone." The raven-locked girl silenced him with a cold stare, it was like ice. "Well clearly, their best? It isn't good enough."
Ray interrupted, looking haughty. "I agree with Tyson, you're being way too hard on them. Why don't you put your money where your mouth is and actually have match with one of us? Then we'll see who the top beyblader really is."
She smirked very smugly, somewhat appreciating the challenge. "Oh, aren't you the cute one."
He smirked right back, not daring to back down. "Yeah, I am. But we're not talking about my looks, we're talking about beyblading. Got your blade?"
She casually reached into her pocket, pulling out a black, green and pink beyblade, a bit chip in the centre. They couldn't really make out what the bit beast was, but assumed they'd eventually find out. "A good beyblader never leaves home without it." That was her response as she set up her blade.
Ray grinned. "Touché."
Tyson began the countdown.
"Three! Two! One! Let it rip!"
Both of them launched their blades at the exact time. Driger immediately went skidding towards her blade, which had quickly begun circling the ring with ease. The two blades collided, sending coloured sparks flying, before separating and colliding with each other again. "Aristophanes!" she yelled, completely into the battle. "Haunting Curse!" Her blade gave a whir, spinning away from Driger. A small light shone out of hey beyblade, then became a blinding light. Ray covered his eyes, protecting himself from the light. When he removed his hand from his eyes, her bit beast was before him. Aristophanes was a sphinx, a white one at that. She, too, had black locks – hers fell to her shoulders, wisps blowing in all directions. A type of jewelry – a gold plate, encrusted with pink and silver jewels, lay on her forehead. Dark pink wings covered her body, until she opened them, revealing a strange symbol on her stomach. Her eyes glowed violet as purple mist filled the stadium.
"Driger!" Ray yelled. His blade began going through the same process hers had. Moments later, his bit beast appeared; a tiger. It immediately lunged for Aristophanes, only to find that she had disappeared into the mist. Confused, he looked around for her, in all directions… but she was gone. Then, all of a sudden, his blade went flying, rebounding off the side and landing neatly in the middle of the stadium. Her blade was still spinning, now where his used to be. Both of theirs came flying at each other.
"Driger!"
"Aristophanes!"
An eerie light emitted from both blades as they connected, pink in colour. They separated and collided again, both going flying out of the stadium. She caught hers carefully, and smirked. His fell to the concrete. He fell to his knees and scooped it up into his hands, checking it over for damages. He clasped it tightly in his hands, and, rising to his feet, said nothing but two words: "Good match." It wasn't a win, but it wasn't a loss either, so he was very humble about it. She was good, there was no questioning it.
"Not bad." Tori stated seriously, there was no joking about it. "Perhaps I underestimated the lot of you."
"You definitely did." Tyson grumbled, a little annoyed over the fact that it hadn't been him to teach her a lesson.
"Shut up."
That was her curt response to him.
"Make me!"
He was acting like a baby, he knew it.
"Run around the mess hall fifty times."
"What?"
"You said to make you shut up, so that's what I'm doing."
"Are you serious?"
"Do I look like I'm joking?" Her face was set in stone. She definitely did not. "Fifty laps around the mess hall, and meet us all at the jetty before sunset. Which is in about, oh…" One quick glance at her watch told her the time. "Thirty minutes? So you'd better get to stepping, Tyson."
Her words were dripping with malice as she spat them out bitterly. He took one look at the way her face was contorted in fury, and started to set the pace for his punishment – a light jog.
"… wench." He muttered under his breath as he passed her.
"SIXTY laps!"
As the other people broke into laughter at the sight of Tyson running around a building, only one of them realized the seriousness of the camp and the type of activities it was going to involve. It hadn't exactly gotten off to a good start…
