Title: Sensational disaster
Authoress: Vitalini
Rating: 13+ (maybe not)
Summary: Boris teams up with Voltaire who is out of prison. They want to revive BIOVALT but need Kai. As a disguise Mr. Dickenson sets Kai and Tala up as singers believing it the last place Voltaire would dream of looking for his grandson. Unfortunately it all goes wrong and it's up to the Blitzkrieg boys to save Kai without letting any of the other teams know.

Warning: violence and possible out of 'characterness' , possible bad language.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade or any of its characters. I wish only to write for my own entertainment and any unrecognized characters belong to me.

Author's note: This was created from a spurt of creative dreaming, 'literally'. Its may confuse but be away there is frog hopping from past and present to make it more interesting and from Kai and Tala. I'm slightly obsessed with the idea that Kai can sing and is musically and linguistically talented so the idea may reoccur it a lot of my stories. I'm trying to think of something he can't do to make him more human but it is so difficult bar that he has quite poor social skills and can be rude. I know he can't cook. There how about that!

I shall change the title when a better one goes along- I promise. In fact someone give me a suggestion .

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"How DARE you parade around like that!.... LIKE SOME SLUT! …. …. Dishonor…….you disgrace! ..."

Voltaire stormed down the stone stairs, dragging him along.

He desperately tried to keep up; falling behind only resulted in getting his hair violently tugged. His neck was twisted painfully. He crawled as fast as he could, without causing further damage to his broken wrist or shot leg.

His Grandfather's raged words were barely audible over the loud ringing in his ears; courtesy of having his head bashed against the wall earlier.

Reaching the bottom, the old man moved at an even faster pace. The cold air hardly affected him, though its freezing touch aggravated the many open wounds, sported by the teen in his grasp.

His knees and palms stung as they scraped along the rough stone floor. The expensive material that had once protected them, hung torn and shredded.

Vivid bruises were already forming on his arms, and though he couldn't see them, all over the rest of his body as well.

Voltaire marched on, deeper into the darkness, electric lighting becoming fewer and farther between.

His scalped burned, his increasing slowness angering his grandfather even more.

Finally, Voltaire stopped. Removing a key from of his pockets, he proceeded to unlock the heavy metal door before him. It opened with a loud screech that echoed down the empty corridor.

Taking a firm hold of his Grandson's hair once more, he pulled the teen inside. The door slammed shut behind them.

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Removing his coat he released a tired sigh. This wasn't how it was supposed to work out. He'd thought it had been the perfect cover, obviously he'd been wrong. It wasn't the first time he'd made the wrong decision, but he was regretting this more than any other in the past. He cared deeply for all the kids that he'd encounter in his life time, getting more involved with some than others. He hated letting any of them down.

This however, was far worse than anything before. They'd trusted him, put their faith totally in him, and he'd failed them. He'd promised this wouldn't happen, he'd persuaded them into it and now look.

The worst had yet to come; he'd watched Bryan and Spencer jump into the ambulance with their captain with a heavy heart, by not joining them he'd only delayed the inevitable.

The sun shone through the tall glass windows, heating the white corridors with its intensity. They were on the fifth floor and by his instruction, on a private ward. No one else was allowed to visit unless they were team members or he.

He could keep one promise, he wouldn't let any of the others know of this. The boys were already shamed enough and wouldn't stand the fuss the others would make.

Reaching the blue double doors that were the entrance to the ward, he collected himself. He had to do this, but it wasn't going to be pretty.

Pressing his finger in the intercom he waited until the buzzing gave way to the soft voice of a nurse.

"It's Mr. Dickenson; I'm here to see Tala. He was brought in last night, he was with two friends…" he trailed off, but the polite voice quickly replied,

"Yes, that's fine. I'm afraid he's unconscious still, do you wish to come back later?"

Still unconscious?

"No, is it Ok that I see him now?" he couldn't keep the anxiety of his voice but he wasn't concerned about that, not now.

"Certainly, please walk through." A beep signaled the unlocking of the door and he proceeded to walk through, smiling as he past the nurse at reception. She hurried over to show him the way and gave him up dates of Tala's condition. Despite still being asleep and sporting a broken arm and brushing, the Blitzkrieg Boy's Captain was going to be alright. He released a sigh of relief at the good news. Finally some light was getting through the dark clouds.

She left him at the door.

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It's short don't worry there's more to come and I have a feeling it could be another long one, possible longer than Happy Birthday Hilary.

Read & Review, please.