This is my first Beyblade story in a long, long time (I deleted my other one when I found out that script format wasn't allowed). Also, I only watched the first season, because I loathed the graphics and other aspects of the second season. Since I gave up on the second season, I naturally did not watch the third one. So, if you're going to read this story, please don't give me reviews about how I have "inaccurate" information.
Anyway, I've never really explored this section very much, so I have no clue what the standards are, so any constructive criticism is welcome. Also, no flaming of my OCs if you would please. I've tried to make them as un-Mary Sue/Gary Stu as possible, while trying to stay true to Beyblade personality stereotypes. Sort of…
Hah, this is a long author's note… One last thing: I AM a Canadian, so all opinions of Canada or the Canadian team, or anything else, are of my own mind. I apologize if I offend any Americans OR Canadians who read this. Thanks for your time.
Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblades.
Rivalry Of The North
Chapter 1
The air of the well-furnished room was filled with a slight tension. The steel walls were adorned with various framed diagrams of beyblades and fake potted plants sat in the corners of the room. Two worn, cream-coloured sofas rested parallel to each other in the centre of the room. A low, long coffee table stood between them. Papers, pens, and mugs littered its surface.
On one couch, a teenager sprawled his tall and long-limbed body. His chocolate coloured arms propping up his head. A short, bespectacled girl with a shock of orange hair and a broad, burly teen sat on the other.
Leaning against a wall, stood Judy Tate. Her eyes glared at the metal door, her high-heeled foot unconsciously tapping the floor with impatience.
After another ten, agonizing minutes, the door slid open. In entered Michael; a baseball in his hand and sweat slick on his forehead. Dirt and grass stains covered his shirt and cargos.
"Michael!" Judy scowled, standing up straight, with hands on her hips. "You're twenty minutes late!"
"Late? Late for what?" the redhead asked, tossing the ball up and down in his right hand.
"For the meeting about the upcoming Pan-American Beyblade Tournament, you twit," Emily retorted, pushing her glasses back up her narrow nose. "We told you yesterday." Michael put his thumb and his forefinger to his chin in thought.
"Oh yeah! I remember now! I was too busy practising that I must've forgotten," he said with a sheepish, though dubious, grin.
"Honestly, Michael, can't you be a little more responsible? You are the team captain." Judy sighed, rubbing her temples.
"Where were you practising anyway? There's at least an inch of snow on the ground and it's a little cold out to be practising anything," Steve remarked. Michael rolled his eyes and plopped down on a nearby stool.
"I was in the private training room upstairs, you dummy. The engineers just remodelled it; there's real turf in there now!" He gestured at his soiled clothes for emphasis.
"Okay, guys; that's enough! Talk later. I'm going to be late for another meeting if we don't get this over with," their coach interrupted.
"Sorry, Coach Tate," Eddy apologized, sitting up properly and giving her his full attention.
"Anyway, as I'm sure you're aware," she glanced at Michael meaningfully, "the next annual Pan-American Beyblade Tournament is coming up next month. The opening ceremonies will start on January 20th, to be exact."
"Coach, have they released the location now? Are they hosting it in New York or Edmonton?"
"The BBA decided to go with Edmonton this year, Emily," Judy replied.
"Edmonton? Where's that?" asked Steve.
"It's in Canada, isn't it?" Eddy replied.
"Oh, that's just great! It's going to be even colder there than it is here! Couldn't they have picked to have it in Texas? Or Mexico even?" Michael exclaimed, throwing up his hands.
"You know, it's just an odd winter this year. Boston's not usually this cold," retorted Emily.
"Continuing," Judy said. "I'm pretty confident in your abilities at the moment. Though, we will be bumping up your training schedules. Also, most of the teams are the same as last year."
"Then it'll be easy pickings, again," snorted Michael, resuming his ball tossing.
"Don't get cocky. They're bound to have some new tricks up their sleeve. New teams have registered, too. Unfortunately, we don't have too much info on them other than their general stats."
"We'll just train more and take it as it goes," Eddy replied with a shrug. "Who knows, maybe it'll be more fun."
"That's not the point, Eddy. However, there is one major difference: there's a new Canadian team."
"What? What happened to the old one?" exclaimed Emily.
"Who are they? Are they better than the old team? I hope so; since the old team was the best pick of the crop last year!" added Steve.
"Who cares? They're probably just another bunch of chumps like the last one!" Michael stated with a grunt.
"Didn't I just say not to get a big head?" questioned Judy with a raised eyebrow. This time she spoke with more amusement than anything. "Either way, the head of the Canadian BBA branch is keeping any information on them privy. All we could get out of them was that we'd be in for a pleasant surprise."
"So, we have absolutely no stats on them at all?" Emily demanded incredulously.
"This is all we could compile at the moment," the blonde woman replied. She placed a thin manila folder on the coffee table. Glancing at her watch, she frowned. "Oh, no, I have to get going. You guys can take a look at the folder, and I'll talk to you all later." With that, she gathered up her jacket and rushed out of the room.
The All Starz stared at the closing doors and heard her echoing footsteps fade away. Then, slowly, their gazes fell on the folder.
Reaching out an arm, Emily picked up the file and opened it on her lap. Inside were only two sheets of paper, kept together by a paper clip. The orange-haired girl quickly scanned their contents as her team mates watched her. Finally, she looked up.
"Well, according to this folder, the old team was defeated by the new one at a national tournament earlier this year. The president of the Canadian BBA then made them the new official Team Canada," she said slowly. "There are four members in the team; three females and one male. Their names are Rena Long—the captain, Joey Mathers, Dani O'Connor, and Rose Jones. The team name that they're registered under is called the Arctic Circle."
Music blared from the headphones around Michael's neck, filling the small cabin with loud, muffled rock. The large, flat-screened television hanging from the front played an old movie. Empty chip bags, plastic cups, candy wrappers and broken off beyblade parts littered the floor, fold-down tables and seats.
"Would you turn down that racket!" demanded a plainly irritated Emily from across the aisle. "I don't know how Steve is sleeping through this!"
"Well, what else do you suppose I do? There's not much I can amuse myself with on a jet!" Michael retorted. "You have that stupid laptop to play around with! I only have my MP3!"
"I'm not playing anything on my computer! I'm doing something useful; unlike you!" she replied with a sneer. "And why don't you just watch the movie! It's there for a reason, you know."
"Don't you ever get tired of acting better than everyone?" Michael muttered angrily. "The stupid movie's some lame-o chick flick, anyway!"
"Do you two have to argue?" Eddy asked, looking up from the hand-held game in his hands. "You totally messed me up! I was on the last level, too. Anyway, aren't we touching down in about an hour?"
"Yes, if everything goes smoothly, we should," Judy answered from her seat near the front. She had long since given up on the bickering between Michael and Emily and had simply taken some pills for headaches and read a book.
"Oh yeah, Coach? Check this out; it's some info that was sent to me by a friend of mine from tennis camp. I was asking her about the new Canadian team, since she lives in Toronto," Emily said as Mrs. Tate and her two team mates began to gather around.
"Wow, so you have friends?" Michael snickered, leaning on the back of one of the seats behind her.
"Stuff a sock in it, Michael. You're so immature," she sniffed disdainfully. "Anyway, like I said, I asked her about them. She doesn't know much about beyblades, but she does keep up with all kinds of other sports. So, when I mentioned those names you gave us, she said that she recognized them from somewhere. Eventually, she sent me the link to this one site. It lists the winners of various winter sports competitions around Canada in the past few years."
"So? What does that mean?" asked Eddy.
"Look for yourself." Emily shifted her laptop so that everyone had a clear view of the screen. There on the monitor was the beginning of a database that Emily had compiled. She had displayed what information that she had into four columns. In each column was a picture with a name under it, and a small paragraph of writing.
"… This says that all four are recurring finalists of various junior national winter sports competitions," said Judy slowly as her blue eyes scanned the screen.
"Yes, Rena Long is the gold medalist of the ladies singles at last year's national junior figure skating championships. Joey Mathers is a rising centre in junior hockey; his team has won almost every match they've played for the past year. Dani O'Connor and Rose Jones are both gold and silver medalists in slalom skiing and alpine snowboarding respectively."
"Is… is this the 'surprise' that the Canadian BBA president meant?" Michael inquired. Was it mere coincidence that the new Team Canada was also a quartet of young star athletes just like them? He was the Junior League Baseball champ of the U.S.; Emily was a finalist in quite a few national tennis tournaments; Steve had been a promising football player before he was booted off his team for bad sportsmanship; and Eddy was close to making it as a professional basketball player.
"Who knows, Michael? We'll find out when we get there," answered Judy with a perplexed look on her face. This trip might prove to be interesting after all.
"This is stupid. Why are we standing out here, anyway? We're not some welcome wagon!" growled a girl with black hair. "We're waiting outside too, no less!"
"Ugh, I totally agree with you, Rena," the sole boy of the group nodded, digging his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. "Couldn't we wait inside? It's -25 (A/N: I'll always be speaking in Celsius) out here! This dumb wind doesn't help either!"
"At least you're not wearing a skirt!" Dani, a short, brown-haired girl snapped. She wore thick stockings under her long skirt, but they didn't help much. Why couldn't anyone tell them beforehand that they would be waiting outside? She wouldn't have worn this outfit otherwise!
"Guys, look!" their last member piped up. The tall blonde pointed up at the southern skies. They could hear the engine of a jet and the steady approach of a black speck.
Soon, the landing squad were flagging down the aircraft. As it landed, gusts of wind ripped at their clothes. Sheets of snow showered them, and many of them pulled up their scarves and coat collars.
When the wind finally died down, the quartet opened their eyes and slowly approached the opening door of the jet.
Walking towards it, they saw the door open completely and the stairs slide down. A woman with blonde hair, dressed in a purple suit and a half-opened coat that hung to her knees, stepped off. She seemed to have spotted them, and was walking to greet them. Their eyes were fixed, though, on the four youths that were gathering in the doorway.
"Tsk, none of them are really cute," Dani said with a frown. "The redhead's okay, but… eh…"
"Dani!" Rose chided with surprise. However, her attention was drawn to her other two companions. Rena and Joey had exchanged a few words and the two had started to snicker. In a few seconds, they were laughing out loud and were not attempting to hide their amusement.
"What are you laughing at? You guys are acting rude," asked Dani, her green-brown eyes glancing at the opening of the jet where the four other teens still stood.
"Haha—they're… they're wearing—Hahaha!" Rena stammered in between laughs.
"Oh! I get it! Hah, they're all wearing shorts or skirts. Their jackets aren't going to help with that!" Rose laughed in realization. Getting the joke, Dani also began to giggle.
Meanwhile, on the top steps of the jet, the All Starz halted in their steps. Surprisingly, they couldn't feel the cold air, yet. However, they could hear the laughs—though it wasn't really that loud—of the four familiar faces. The faces of the new Team Canada.
Immediately, Michael felt the heat rising to his face. Without even looking, he knew that Steve was probably ready to charge like an angry bull, and that even level-headed Eddy was fuming. Emily's face would be pinched with anger and forced control.
"Why those conceited, little—" Steve growled, his teeth grinding together. The green-haired teenager's large hands were clenched into fists and shaking with rage.
"Well, I'm not going to take this crap! Wait 'til I give them a piece of my mind!" the redhead exclaimed. Michael stormed down the steps and stalked towards the group—you could almost see the snow melting under his feet. He knew that his team mates would be right behind him.
Just when he was a few feet away from them did he realize that their laughter had died down to mere good-natured grins. Of course, Michael thought that they looked more mocking than pleasant.
"Good evening, All Starz. Welcome to Edmonton, Canada. As your welcoming committee and fellow beybladers, I have some advice for you: don't wear shorts in January."
Then the cold, hard truth set in. The evening chill and frosty wind bit at his bare legs and his not thick enough jacket was shot through with cold air. Michael began to shiver involuntarily and his teeth were chattering against his will. The Team U.S.A. captain didn't seem so threatening, now.
Evidently, inside, Michael was still seething. His anger originated more from being embarrassed at their first meeting with the host team rather than having been laughed at. In fact—as much as he hated to admit it—he would have been laughing, too, if he were them. However, that didn't change the fact that he was still pissed.
His sharp blue eyes met with the steely grey ones of the one who had greeted them. He immediately recognized her as Rena Long, the Arctic Circle's captain.
She met his bared teeth with a smart, satisfied smirk. That look was the deciding factor for Michael Parker. Team Canada was going down!
Weeell, I hope you all liked that chapter. If you do, please review! If you don't, review anyway and tell me what you didn't like about it.
Hopefully, I have everyone IC (though, I think I made Michael a little more of a jerk than he usually is…). As for my OCs, I apologize for the fact that I made them all pro athletes. I didn't have much of a choice if I wanted to make them seem like mirror images of the All Starz. I'm not an expert on those sports either, so let's hope that those stats are all correct. Also, if they all came off as total pompous jerks… Just give them a chance. They'll get better eventually.
I've only been to the states a few times, so I don't know anything about the weather down there (or in Edmonton, for that matter O.o). So, I had to rely on internet weather charts. If I'm lucky, they'll be accurate and you guys won't think I'm totally nuts.
Anyway, thanks for reading, and if there's at least one positive review, I'll be updating! Yes, I have no life!
--FireEdge--