IndyMethodDoubleFlipTwistRoll – wipeout…

Chapter 1 – Day 1. I feel like a green plastic army man.

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I swear, this thing will be the death of me.

Seriously! Having your feet practically nailed to this board and then shoved off a mountainside is not my idea of a relaxing holiday. Unfortunately, this is a team thing, and no matter what I do, or what I say, we are here, firmly ensconced in the b-e-a-u-tiful scenery of Canada. Oh, I didn't mention that tiny other thing. I'm here with, not only my team, but also the rest of that happy crowd that seem to have included themselves in the 'Elite Blading Club' as Tyson so loves to call it.

Thankfully, there is one tiny element of sanity in my life. The lifeboat of reason that I can cling to when things get rough in these stormy seas. The walking piece of heaven that, given his attitude, probably shouldn't be here at all.

Praise the Lord and all of his holy affiliations that he is here though, because if he weren't, I don't think I could hold on much longer to the last shred of rationality lodged in my mind. My self-control was already tested to breaking point on the plane journey here – I don't need, and can't take, this aggravation.

Oh, wait! My saviour has just glided – no, that sounds wrong. Glidden? Nah, that's not right either. Meh, I can't be stuffed – through the doors. Hey, over here! Look at me, a mere mortal being!!! One that deserves your attention!!!!!

Mission unaccomplished. He didn't so much as open his eyes, that's how supernatural he is. He can walk in a straight line, negotiate any people and furniture in his way, without opening his eyes. And what nice eyes he has… That crystal clear violet, so vibrant that they seem to flicker with amethyst fire. That is, whenever he can be bothered to open them.

Have you not guessed who my angel from the netherworld is yet? Correct. He is that signal beacon of perfection that goes by the mortal name of Kai Hiwatari – without a doubt the best thing to have entered my life since toilet paper. Things were a little…basic back in my village.

Unfortunately, his sentiments are not exactly akin to mine, so while I sit here, worshipping him from afar, he has not so much as noticed me. The other problem is that when he does, it is usually for the wrong reasons. For example: when I launch badly, when I fumble a move (probably because I've been staring into his eyes again. Such lovely eyes…), if I walk into things (again, because I have been watching him) or if I injure myself in some way, reduced to writhing around on the floor in pain. Still, that's not as bad as last week, when I cried whilst watching The Titanic. It was sad, okay!!!!

But anyway, back to the here and now. My team and I are here in the Canadian Rockies, subjected to a holiday involving snow and the use of which thereof. Who else is here? I can never remember all of their names. I'm sure I've got a list in one of my innumerable pockets. I swear these ski jackets could house the entire equipment list of the SAS. Ah, here it is!

Hiro. He's here to be that commanding adult figure, as well as Tyson's guardian. He's responsible for all of us on our stay here, and thus responsible for any injuries we may sustain. Come on, it's a skiing holiday. I'll bet you seven helpings of Judy Tate's special noodle stew that we come away from this with at least three broken bones in our party.

Brooklyn. I suppose he's here to admire the wildlife. We saw some elk on the coach journey here, and you wouldn't have been able to pry him away from the window with a crowbar. He's a nice guy though, very tranquil, even if he's out of his mind. If I'm teetering on the edge of insanity, he's all the way over.

Mystel. Woo, someone vaguely normal. Well, as normal as professional beybladers seem to get these days. We're all insane in some way. Tyson has the stomach of an elephant, Max can get hyper on thumbtacks I swear, Brooklyn is a nature freak, Hiro has this obsession with wearing rock-star sunglasses, I'm a gay neko-jin that thinks waaay too much and Kai is…well, so out of this world that he doesn't count anyway. On the other hand, I'm sure Mystel is genetically modified or something, because how else would he be able to jump that high? Maybe he was grown in a lab and given the jumping skills of a flea or something.

Garland. Oh, the honour guy. Poor thing, really. Driven to be the best by an over-encouraging family. Why did he pick this sport to excel at? Go and pick another one that harbours more sane people! Save yourself while you can!!!!

Miguel. Ooh, another fairly sane one. Though, I have some doubts about the stability of his mind set, owing to the fact that he served under that weird control freak Barthez. I don't care whether they broke free from his control or not, spending so much time with someone who should be institutionalised can't be good for you.

Julia and Raul. Together, even in a list of separate people. They scare me, especially when they finish each other's sentences. It's freaky, I tell you! Why are they here anyway? Maybe Tyson's sucking up to them after beating them in the World Championships. Or maybe he's invited them so he can gloat about his victory. It's probably the latter.

Salima. Interesting. Haven't seen her in a while. Come to think of it, I didn't see her on the plane either. Mind you, she's a bit quiet, and I suspect she was sitting next to some of the rowdier members of our happy little group. Either that or I was too busy drooling over the image of perfection sitting next to me. This is no mean feat, I can tell you. Kai seems to have this radar so that he knows exactly when you're looking at him. Thankfully, he fell asleep halfway through, so I was able to drink in the sight of him until he was woken up by that stupid airhostess.

Mariam. Another one. No doubt Max stuck her on the list. Thank heaven that the rest of her team isn't here as well, or I might actually lose the will to live. Ozuma's a weird one, always talking about sacred this, and sacred that. It could drive you barmy! Frankly, I think it did. Dunga and Joseph are more than a little cuckoo, though thankfully, Mariam seems to have turned out all right, even if she likes to sharpen her tongue until it will draw blood. Seriously, that girl can insult you in so many ways when she's catty that I wonder why Max puts up with her.

Ah. Now we have come to the last person on the list. The one who has been standing in my way of asserting my gayness and striding into the outside world. Yup, you guessed it.

Mariah.

God knows how she got invited. I had nothing to do with it, that's for sure. It's probably some twisted joke from somebody. Unfortunately, Lee was unable to come. This is both a blessing and a hindrance, because while Lee seems to be a bit homophobic and edgy about these things, he is very good at distracting Mariah. Don't get me wrong, Mariah can be very nice and understanding when she feels like it, but unfortunately I don't think she'll take the news well. You see, I haven't plucked up the courage to tell her I'm gay yet. This is because it seems to have become universally accepted that Mariah and I will be together forever, something I definitely do not plan on doing.

Nonetheless, Mariah doesn't seem to have noticed this, and however much I try to wriggle out of her grip, the tighter she holds on. She can be very clingy, and I have a hard time trying to get away from her as it is. I mean, as a friend – fine. I could cope with that. But if I tell her I'm gay, I'm afraid she might just join Brooklyn over the edge of insanity. You see, Mariah is very well connected, and if she takes it as badly as I think she will, she could turn a lot of people against me. Aside from this, I've also got to worry about everybody else's reaction.

"Ray! Ray? Where are you? Lessons begin in fifteen minutes!"

Oh. Bugger. Hiro calls. The day's lessons have begun, and I now must shift myself in order to get all the rest of my gear on, pick up my board and get out there to face the music.

Yes, I have opted for the snowboard as my vehicle of choice. This is possibly because I was watching the Turin Olympics ages ago, and the boarders look so much cooler. The Canadians are really strange; they call snowboards trays, and skis sticks. Still, they're all really happy, if one of them hadn't been so nice and taken pity on me, I doubt I would ever have got my boots on. Thankfully, I'm wearing soft boots, that look like really big hiking boots. This means they're a bit more walking-friendly. Those poor sods in ski boots can hardly walk at all. Believe me, there is nothing as funny as seeing Raul take one step in his boots and fall over, a cartoony ball of flailing arms.

Of course, not everybody is quite that unskilled. Hiro has skied a couple of times before, so if we wipeout (lingo for fall-over-in-a-flurry-of-snow-possibly-breaking-some-bones) he'll be able to pick us back up again. Garland, of course can. His family can do practically every sport on the planet, so why not winter ones? And there's one other who can ride the bloody socks off the rest of us…

Kai, hailing from the land of ice and snow, can ski and snowboard better than the rest of us put together. Of course, since Kai doesn't do the bodily exertion thing unless he's in a gym, he's kinda serene on the slopes. This means we (meaning I) don't get to see those amazing tricks we all know he can do.

Thankfully, Canadians think that being warm and safe is way better than being hard and asking for death, so I can wear a helmet and not get called a wimp. Also, if Kai wears a helmet (which he does, a stylish black one with a red phoenix on the side) it has to be cool. I can only be thankful that my jacket and salopetts (padded dungaree things that rustle something chronic when you walk) are light blue and not red, otherwise I'd look like some kind of zit on the white mountainside. I purposefully chose my helmet to match, because a metallic blue one goes much better than the one the shopkeeper tried to give me. I swear, the shade of fluorescent green it was painted in looked just like bogeys.

Of course, light blue offers much more camouflage, something that Mariah lacks in boatloads, since her ski ensemble is – you guessed it - bright pink. Indeed, the reason for such camouflage is Mariah herself, since whenever I try to put my plan into action, she turns up.

Which brings me to the subject of said plan. This is of utmost importance, since this may be one of the best chances of my entire life to put it into action. I have two weeks, until they reckon the snow will melt enough so that it will be un-boardable, to get Kai to acknowledge my existence, to ascertain whether he is gay or not, to tell him Iam gay, and make him fall in love with me.

Got that?

Good, 'cause I won't explain it again. This is, as afore said, of utmost importance, and I cannot veer away from my objective. If I so much as drift away, pinch me so I fall back down to earth. Thankfully, I have already achieved stage 1 to some extent. Kai knows I exist, and if I'm not much mistaken, he prefers my company to the others. This is not saying much, granted, but it is a start. On to the next hurdle: is he gay or not? This is my objective, and if you choose to accept it, yours. Find out his sexual orientation, and if he says he's straight, I will lose the will to live and throw myself off the mountainside. Either that or I'll have to give in to Mariah and go back to my village to live my life in pink hell. The latter sounds worse.

But I will not give in to this foolish rambling! I am positive, and optimistic! Kai has never shown any interest in anybody in that way, so for all I know he may be bi. This is good enough for me, and I can harbour my feelings in hopeful splendour until the truth comes out.

"Ray? Come on, what the hell are you doing?"

Right, I'd better shift myself. Right, do I have everything? Gloves? Check. Helmet? Check. Walkie talkie (very important in case of lost people, especially me)? Check. Snowboard? Check. Everything seems to be in order; I can now stride out into the unknown prepared and ready.

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Prepared and ready my arse.

Snowboarding is the weirdest and most incomprehensible form of transport in this sector of the galaxy. Seriously! You know all those big-shot boarders who look amazing, doing whatever they do? Well, they must have been BORN on a board to get that good, because the way I'm going, my gravestone should be finished next week. For every second I manage to stand up on this bloody thing, I spend another five in the snow. I would not be surprised if I were mistaken for a blueberry tomorrow, since my skin will never be the same colour ever again. Mind you, I'm not the only one.

I am sitting in base camp, the miniature village at the bottom of all the ski runs where the hotels are, inside the deliciously warm cafeteria, waiting for our instructor (a guy named Dean) to come back with all our hot chocolates. He's really nice, if a bit wacko, and he says a hot drink is our 'reward' for all our 'progress'. He's cool, and thankfully patient, though I could swear he's joined Brooklyn over the edge of insanity. Think surfer dude, replicate it seven times over and put it on snow.

There is one solace, however. Snowboarders and skiers are in separate schools, meaning I am separated from Mariah, and most of the other painfully irritating members of our little group. In my group, we have Miguel, Salima, Max and Mystel. The others are in the ski school, learning how to steer those flimsy little sticks of theirs. That is, aside from Hiro, Garland and Kai. They're so experienced that they don't need lessons. Well, maybe not especially Hiro, but Kai and Garland took the ski lifts to the peak first thing and haven't been seen since morning. And no, Kai isn't boarding with Garland and attempting to be social. Garland is tackling the expert slopes in the western bowl on the other side of the mountain; Kai is hitting some unskied powder off-piste.

Oooh, a big mug of something chocolaty has been placed in front of me. I can submerge myself in warm fuzzy goodness while the others talk about something boring…goggles or something similarly trivial. Wait, what is this? It is not Dean the instructor who sits before me now, sipping a cup of what smells like coffee and staring at me over the rim! It's-

"Hello Ray."

I let the deep and sultry voice wash over me, gazing in (gormless) surprise at the wonder in front of me. Yes, Kai has blessed me with his presence, choosing to sit with me over anyone else. This is an event!

"Hi." Revel in my amazing vocabularical abilities! "Where've you been?" Is vocabularical a word? No matter, it is now!

"Around." But then again, my skills are nothing in comparison to the veritable godling in front of me.

"Have fun?" As soon as I say this, I cringe. I forget that Kai never seems to have fun, other than toying with our emotions on his very worst of days.

"Of sorts. You?"

Fabulous! An opportunity to talk freely and without interruption, and without a certain awkward silence to get in the way.

"Yeah, I did," I say, taking a sip of my hot chocolate. "Well, no. I lie. I could swear I could be mistaken for a baboon, my arse is so blue." Don't think you can hide your smirk behind that coffee cup, Kai. I can see you. "It's really tiring too – I'm exhausted and it's barely lunchtime. Thankfully, I seem to have almost mastered turning this morning. Oh, and do we have to get up so early every day?" I pose this question because I was woken this morning at the unearthly hour of 6:30, ready to be on the slopes an hour later. Neko-jins have many cattish qualities: being able to make our pupils slits, our eyes being that distinctive amber colour, our very sharp fangs (I warn you, biting one's tongue accidentally hurts sooooooooo much more with these gnashers), and insanely quick reflexes (when we're awake). Which brings me to the more embarrassing aspects of my heritage: the purring (one of the most humiliating things you can do in public. Once, Max gave me this big bear hug, and he was wearing a wonderfully fluffy jumper. I buried my face in it and purred. Uh huh. Got weird looks for weeks afterwards), the fact that we have strange affiliations with balls of wool (I had a lot of explaining to do after my team-mates found me lying on my back, batting at a ball of angora above my head), and the unconquerable urge to go and sleep in the sun (it's true, cats will sleep anywhere. I was once found on a piano, on a car bonnet, in the middle of the lawn, on the doorstep…). This said, I can (and do, when Kai lets me) sleep 20 hours straight. Before today, I don't think I can remember ever seeing the sunrise.

"Yes. The snow is best in the morning, when the sun doesn't have the chance to melt it."

"…" I can tell from his expression that there is a look of mingled horror, resignation and pleading on my face.

"And yes, I'll wake you up."

"…"

"And yes, I am aware that you will attempt to take my life for waking you at an ungodly hour. I will be prepared."

Prepared? In what sense? Should I be scared? Almost definitely. Kai has expended twenty-four of his one hundred word quota for the day on one sentence. He's planning something big.

"I don't know what I'll do after lunch though." I take another sip of my hot chocolate, pleading (and hinting incredibly heavily) with my eyes. "The lesson ends then, and I'm not entirely happy with my skills. I know it's best to stick together, but I don't feel like mingling with the other skiers." Or Mariah.

Unfortunately, Kai does not have a sense of hint, and has blissfully ignored my puppy-dog eyes. Time to take the plunge, as you might say.

"Soooooo, I was wondering if I could hang out with you today?"

Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

"Okay."

Oh no!! What am I going to do now? I'll have to endure my companions, thus including Mariah, and I'm running out of ways to get away from her! I- Wait? Did he just say Yes?

"I can take you to the easy runs on the other side of the mountain."

This is…incredible! I can't believe it! But I have to! Otherwise it could all be a dream!

"Really?" Way to go Ray. So not desperate.

Kai merely sips his coffee, pulling out a map and studying it. This, I take it, is one of Kai's silences that speak louder than words. Let me fill you in.

Silence number one: Don't-talk-to-me-or-I'll-bite-your-head-off-I'm-doing-something-important. This one comes into play before matches, when he's focusing his Zen or whatever. Seriously, if you as much as ask what the time is, you'll receive Glare number one as well, but those come in later. When exhibiting this silence, he is usually holed up in a corner, looking like some kind of threatening shadow. Mind you, he looks like that most of the time.

Silence number two: Don't-talk-to-me-I'm-in-a-good-mood-I-don't-need-you-ruining-it. This is the silence that I positively LOVE. When like this, he's in a good mood – scratch that - a very good mood, and some of my fondest memories have been sat on these foundations. This is because everything is silent, and I don't have to talk, and therefore humiliate myself. However, I also have the sweetest picture of him (no, he doesn't know about it, or else that good mood would have evaporated faster than nail-varnish remover in the sun. …Not that I've ever used nail-varnish remover…obviously…) when he was sitting in a window seat with his feet propped up against the wall, the sunlight streaming in, reading a book. It's darling, and it takes pride of place in my diary (yes, I keep a diary. No, it's not that sad). Now, I know what you're are thinking, and I tried. I managed to pinch the said book from his bookshelf whilst he was in the shower, but no go. The entire thing was written in Russian, and if there is a more complicated and less understandable language out there, I will eat my helmet. No indication whatsoever of plot. There wasn't even a picture on the front!

Silence number three: I-really-don't-care-so-quit-bothering-me-do-what-you-like-but-don't-make-too-much-of-a-mess. This is the one he is giving me now. This indicates a 'whatever' attitude, thus, I can do 'whatever' I like, and shall, provided that I don't eternally humiliate myself whilst doing so. However, since this is undeniably inevitable, I shall admit defeat.

"Hey! Ray-man! Come on, cool cat! We've gotta get going!"

This, unfortunately, is Dean the Irritating Instructor, come to save me from the clutches of my fairytale prince. Of course, if Kai's the prince, that means I'm the princess. That means I've got to wear a frilly pink dress and swoon. Note to self – rewrite fairytales to be more gay friendly. They should crossover all branches of society.

"Okay," I hear myself say. "I'm coming. Kai, I'll see you here at one, 'kay?"

"Whatever."

-

My goal is in sight. I stand here, at the top of a green run (that's easy), fresh from the drag lift, with the cafeteria a small shoebox shape below. This is my objective: to get all the way down there in less than ten minutes, without falling over, in order to meet Kai. Oh yeah, and to practise right-hand turns. They are so hard I swear. You've got to sort of lean over backwards towards the perilous drop down the mountainside to turn! It's just ASKING for Death to come and lop your head off with that great big scythe of his.

Anyway, can I have a countdown before I push off? No? Then, can you push me? No?!?!? Mean sods. I'll have to do it myself. …5…4…3…2…1…CONTACT. WE HAVE IGNITION.

Hey, this isn't so bad! Those tips Dean the Mean Machine gave me must work! He said something about not tilting my body, just my hips. I can almost f-e-e-l Death hawking over my shoulder, waiting for me to fall. Anyways, now this stuff doesn't require my utmost attention, I can hereby tell you about the alarming news that I have just heard from Tyson, who was on a ski-lift above me and yelled it to me, much to the amusement of some French people standing right behind me. Ready? I advise you to brace yourself for this piece of information – the news of it, and those which it concerns could be detrimental to your health.

Tala and Bryan are coming and will arrive tomorrow.

I know. Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water…

If you hadn't guessed already, just one of them can (and do) reduce me to a stuttering puddle of primordial ooze. Not only that, but the two of them together can reap much more than two times as much damage. Maybe it's safer to tackle them separately.

Tala Ivanov is redheaded, blue-eyed, and has the longest eyelashes of any guy I know. I am convinced that he uses mascara, because I've only otherwise seen lashes like that on Mariah when she's trying to hit on me, flirt with me, trying to lure me into her lair…it's all the same thing really. Ahem, back to the task at hand. Tala also possesses some of the most violent mood swings in the world. He can go from snidely bearable to bitchy arch-nemesis in under 2.5 seconds. He can be so feminine sometimes, it's scary. I was once told that if two guys fight, they'll usually have a punch-up and then everything's right as rain. Girls are different. Girls hold grudges. No matter how many cat-fights they seem to go through, they still hate each others guts. And don't get me wrong; those things can be way violent. Some of that hair pulling and scratching looks more than a bit painful. Unfortunately, Tala is capable of inflicting much more pain than that. Being part cyborg, his muscles, eyesight, bones and reflexes are strengthened. Add that to all that training he had at Biovolt, and you've got more than one tough cookie in your happy meal. Thankfully, in his better moods, he usually does a 'Kai' and avoids bodily exertion, preferring to stick to verbal degradation. His partner in crime is better in some ways, but much, much worse in others.

Bryan Kusnetsov is six foot two, has lilac hair and lilac eyes, and is a one man massacring machine. Thanks to all that lovely training at Biovolt, he is trained in thirty-two methods of armed combat, alongside another eleven unarmed. I got these figures off Kai when he was telling me to stay away from Bryan. Now you see there is a good reason. The only slightly comforting things are that he is unfamiliar with the division of Jujitsu that I was taught, and he prefers his guns and knives, meaning he is far from expert at martial arts and merely insanely good. Half of the time, however, Bryan does not need this. He carries a distinct air of juvenile delinquent turned evil maniac, and people give him a wide berth for it. Believe me when I say this: you can almost taste it when Bryan walks into a room. Watch for that slightly metallic aroma of pure malice. Either that or look at the people and plants around you – both will wither under his gaze.

Definitely not to be messed with, believe me. Put together, the gruesome twosome are capable of more destruction than an entire herd of elephants that have decided that you have stolen their baby.

Hey! Wait! I'm at the bottom! It's a MIRACLE!!! No, seriously, it is. Especially in under fifteen minutes. Aaaannnnndddd………………there he is! Waiting for me! Not anyone else, just ME!

Kai is leaning casually against the wall of the cafeteria with his eyes closed (naturally), and I already know he knows that I know that he knows I'm here. What I left out was that he already knows all of that because he's scarily psychic and is connected to fate and therefore can CONTROL THE FUTURE!

…Ahem…sorry. Got a bit high there on Kai vibes. Must refrain from doing so again in public.

"Kai!" I call, and he opens those dreamy violet eyes and fixes them on me.

"Ready?"

"You bet!" Good God, I sound like Max – all cheery fluffy bunny.

Fluffy bunny aside, this could be the greatest opportunity in the history of my life… oooorrrrrr it could be my biggest failure and humiliation. Let's wait and see, shall we?

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Tune in next time for IndyMethodDoubleFlipTwistRoll – wipeout… for more fun. Will Ray humiliate himself? Can Kai control the future? All will be revealed in the next installment!

You know I love you – review? Please?

I am the Hodgeheg