Disclaimer: I do not own beyblade so there.
The Night Before - Salima
The 747 rumbled stoically through the turbulent night skies, it's navigation lights pulsing to a preset rhythm that contradicted the churning chaos of the storm. 20,000 feet beneath the beat up jet seethed the angry Northern Pacific, whipped into a malicious winter maelstrom by a frigid arctic assault. The jetliner had left Singapore four hours ago, en-route to New York; a 20 hour marathon flight that ranged over the Philippines, past the Japanese Islands and over the arctic wastelands of the North Pole and the Canadian hinterlands. It was a grueling undertaking, and (allowing for brief moments of sheer terror caused by wind sheer and exceptionally strong and unexpected turbulence) a very, very boring one…
The jetliner's passenger cabins were barely a third occupied. Nobody wanted to spend Christmas cooped up in an airplane with politely indifferent strangers. With the exception of one.
At the very rear of the aircraft a young teen lay sprawled contently across four centre seats, enjoying the privacy and comfort of the deserted cabin. Everyone else had been upgraded into first and business class, or seated in the upper cabin of the great jet, a move intended to make the life of the airplanes crew easier. This seasoned traveler had politely refused the upgrade and insisted on being allocated her designated 'seat'. The flight crew were in no mood to object; There was no real reason that she couldn't have half the jet to herself… And so Salima had gotten her wish.
Cruising shakily over the frigid far reaches of the pacific, hidden behind rows upon rows of abandoned seats, and generously supplied with blankets, pillows and complimentary peanuts besides her own ipod and a novel as thick as a bible, Salima had gotten as comfortable as she could. Which in her case, was not especially.
Salima disliked Christmas- No. She loathed it. The past few Christmases had gone something like so…
The original Christmas Disaster. Five years prior. Salima's parents had split in a violent row that ensured a lengthy custody battle for herself and her younger brother.
Christmas Catastrophe, the sequel. Three years and a few hours ago to the minute. After two months of trying to be diplomatic about the nasty state of affairs that existed between Mum and Dad, Salima and her younger sibling spent the holidays with their father.
Dearest mother didn't take to well to this, insult. As a result (and a drawn out custody battle), Christmas disaster take III was spent with 'that litigious bitch' … in her cold, drafty and rundown flat If there was one good thing to eventuate from this debacle, it was the present her father sent to her the following January when she was back at her boarding school- her first competition style beyblade and launcher.
Christmas four was the worst. By now Salima's talent with the blade had landed her a scholarship with a prestigious academy based in Tokyo, Japan. She had stayed there over the Christmas, largely devoid of any contact with friends of family.
Lonely was an understatement.
That 'holiday' was a positively miserable experience.
The fifth crap-fest (as the emerging cynic had come to affectionately dub the festivities) had actually showed promise of redeeming the lastfour performances. Salima, Kane, Goki and Jim of the newly formed team Psykick were going to spend the holiday together in the Swiss alps… A brilliant idea! Let down by misdirected luggage and a delay that left the four stranded in Bombay, India for nearly 30 hours.
And so the four spent that Christmas together in the crappiest International Airport known to man- And to add insult to injury, Salima's daypack was stolen.
The verdict: 'Crap, but hey, I'm getting used to this sort of thing'
But Christmas six would be different. The grinch in Salima was going to make sure of it.
Trussed up in a black Hoodie, shielded by warm blankets, soothed by cups of hot tea (and racing through the atmosphere in a metal tube at 500 mile per hour), Salima had indeed put together a formidable sanctuary in preparation for her nemesis. The time was 23:54, Christmas Eve. The young red-head assumed her premeditated combat stance; Lying down, eyes closed, blankets and pillows at the ready. Donning the hood on her jacket she narrowed her eyes at the laurel wreath that hung mocking at the far end of the soulless cabin.
Let's get this over with.
Salima was going to sleep this one out.
The 747 hurtled through the turbulent murk, set on it's destination.
That's chapter one. Modifed slightly to make more sense and be more gramatically accurate.