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Justification of Evil

By TheImmortalDoll

Chapter One: Prologue

Ruins. It was in utter ruins. This building, this project that I had put into all my financial support and effort. My life. Now it was in ruins.

I turned my back on what remained of my precious BEGA building. No reason left to look at it, to be near it, to think of it. No reason that would not be like rubbing salt into my own wounds. So, what options was I left with. I had no house to return to, no family or friends. And of course, joining in the celebrations was hardly an option, despite that my supposed team- that I had trained and dedicated endless hours to- had now turned their backs on me and were a part of the joyful mass that surrounded that damned Tyson down below.

Walking away. That was all I could do. Who would stop me? It was hardly likely that anyone would call me back. I was not a concern to them anymore. Just like the last time those brats defeated me, they celebrate with their ignorant belief that I would never be able to regain the power and resources to threaten that tedious and pitiful BBA.

I could start again, of course, become the threat again, of course. I was left with nothing last time and returned, I could do the same again. But last time was different. I had the will left in me then. I was not defeated. I was still strong. I'm not sure I have that strength now, nor the desire.

Maybe I was manipulative, maybe I was underhanded. But that's the way the business world works. The world is a harsh place and you have to be harsher to succeed in this life.

And this sport. A huge popularity worldwide. Who was to say it could not be a professional sport. Who could criticize me for trying it. Why should these children who so love this sport be left treating it like a kid's game in the playground.

But enough contemplating on my ambitions. Back to there ruins that I'm left with. I have walked further away from the rubble of my building. The surrounding and intact streets of the city I can now see before me are deserted. Everyone has run down there to see that damned boy, or perhaps just to find the cause of that temporary obliteration of the sun.

A man is stood before me. He seems in no hurry to get down to the celebrating mass. Though he looks as if he's travelled a long way. He doesn't even look dressed for the country, more a mountain climb.

And I know this man. Well, hardly know him, but we have met before, spoke before and he would not comply with me before.

He's looking at me now. He's walking over to me now. I had no idea if this meeting will be good, bad or in fact of any importance at all.

"Boris." His tone of speaking my name hardly shows any happiness or delight from familiarity.

I fold my arms, looking this man over, wondering why he is bothering to share his words with me. "Mr Granger."

A slight smile adorns his face. Somehow similar to that brat son of his, yet more mature, more defined. Well, it is hardly difficult to be less sophisticated than his wretched child.

"Call me Bruce, please," he says. "I've spent years travelling deserts and living in tents. I am neither used to formality or desire it."

I nodded, not really caring either way. "Do you have something to say or have you come to rub your son's success in my face."

His smile is gone now. I would like to think I still have some powers of intimidation left but I do not think it is that. "No," he says, surely enough. "I am proud of Tyson, of course. But I have never believed gloating to be worthwhile or intelligent."

I can't help but scoff. This man is almost painfully polite.

"Why did you do it, Boris?" He asks suddenly and I snap my attention to him out of pure curiosity as to why he would ask such a question. "What do you mean?"

"All of this. Not just this BEGA fiasco, but BIOVOLT previously, your treatment of children, your criminal nature. I am curious. Why?"

"Why does it matter?" I retorted. "Reasons are reasons and affect nothing now. These are the consequences we have laid out before us now, what do reasons matter?"

"Like I said, I'm curious," he replied. "I'm not only interested in bit-beasts. I love Beyblade. And I'm interested in the people involved as well." He pulled his backpack further up his shoulder. "You have nowhere to be now, am I right? Nothing to do? I'll make you a proposition."

"What?" I snapped, not liking this man's patience and politeness.

"Tell me your story," he said with a shrug. "I'd like to know. No other reason. I will not even repeat anything said if you do not wish me to. But I would like to know, for merely my own interest."

I was confused and begrudgingly intrigued, but I would never let him know this. "My story? You mean you want the tiresome tale of my life? What on earth would you gain from that?"

He shrugged again. "People don't always work for gain, Boris. I told you, I am merely interested. Feed my curiosity, if you will. I would merely like to know."

I watched him as he turned on his heel and began to walk back towards the city.

"Don't you want to see your damned son?" I called after him.

He looked back over his shoulder at me. "I came to surprise Tyson. He's got his friends and my father with him. He's preoccupied. I will see him in time. Now come on, I know somewhere we can talk."

I didn't like being ordered around. I was used to giving orders. But as I've said, this whole BEGA incident had near enough defeated me. So out of purely nothing better to do, I followed.

Bruce took us to a rather simplistic hotel room. I thought an archaeologist would be earning good enough money to afford something a little more lavish.

As if reading my thoughts, he turned and smiled and said, "I know this room isn't much, but it's enough for me. I've never liked big, fancy rooms with en-suite bathrooms. Not my style."

I shrugged and watched as he sat at a simple wooden table which held a notebook and pen.

"Would you mind if I made notes? Merely to recall the details," he said.

"Do as you wish," I said. "And you truly want to hear this tale. My life has been long and some things I'd imagine you would not agree with."

"Not my business," he replied "I merely want to listen."

"Fine, fine. Where should I start? BIOVOLT? Before that? How much do you want to know?"

"All of it," he said. "From childhood. If you can remember anything of specific importance. I want to know who you are. I'm intrigued."

"Once again, I will say I see no reason for this. But simple things amuse simple minds, I suppose."

He merely smiled wryly at my insults, refusing to react, unlike his brash and quick tempered son. "When you are ready, Boris. I'll let you talk without interruption."

"Fine by me. I detest those who makes constant comment. Shall I begin this treacherous tale then?"

He nodded.