I do not own Beyblade, it was made by Takao Aoki sensei. Kiko Wieler is my own character, so please do not copy her! Thank you, and please read on (it may be boring now, but I promise it will get better! Please, please continue reading it!). I also do not own the Blitzkriegboys!

Chapter 1: Russian Travel

My name is Kiko Wieler; I have dark brown medium length hair that's down to the middle of my back, icy blue eyes, I'm 5'6 and my parents don't talk to me anymore. I moved away from them because, my mother got married to some guy that I never liked, and now have 6 older brothers. I originally come from Canada; and know a wide range of languages. I moved away to Russia, as I know that my family would never follow me there. I hate this world and many of the people in it; I'm going to get a job and hope that no one tries to talk to me and doesn't recognize me from my beyblading carrier; I quite beyblading and hope to never get in that business again.

Sighing as I looked out of the frosty window to stare at the cold climate below me. I was going to stay here from now on; no family, no friends, no problems. I closed my icy blue eyes again, and waited calmly for the plane to land. Russia; my new home, but the only question was, where was I going to find work? 'it doesn't matter, I'll deal with it later, I have to worry over where I'm going to live right now.' I opened my icy blue eyes once more as the person in the loudspeaker yelled out that we were landing in a few short minutes; and she said this in Russian. I awaited the impact of the wheels of the plane touching the surface of the cold run-way below.

The plane came to a stop and slowly they started opening the doors to the plane. I waited for a few moments to let the crowd disperse a little; I really hate crowds. I got up quickly, and made my way through the thick crowd in front of me. Some of the people looked at me and tried to get out of my way; I tend to have that affect on people. Eventually, I came out of the crowd, and down the stairs of the plane to the icy cement at the bottom. An icy cold breeze brushed against me, the wind caused my black trench coat to rise up behind me, giving everyone else an eerie feeling about me. I continued along the icy cement way, and headed to the main port of the airport. The crowd was merciless as I made my way through the thick crowd. Things said in Russian could be heard overhead; I ignored them. I walked over to where the luggage disposal was, and waited to retrieve me bag.

I found it and took it by the black leather straps that held it up. I then turned around, and walked quickly towards the glass doors. My black trench coat flailed around my legs, my dark brown hair moving with my body as I walked. My black and silver iron toed shoes clambered on the marble floors. I closed my eyes and ignored the stares I got from the passing people that I walked by.