Summary: Years have passed since the closure of Balcov Abbey and BIOVOLT's ultimate end but for Kai and Yuriy the nightmare is far from over. Haunted by the memories of abuse and past mistakes Kai has begun to seek out relief in the form of intoxication. Meanwhile, Yuriy is on the run from a Russian Military organization known as Blitzkrieg. What connections does this company have to the BIOVOLT corporation and at what lengths are Kai and Yuriy willing to go in order to escape its iron hold?


A/N: Hey kids, I'm here today because I have recently relapsed on an old Beyblade addiction. I thought I was free, but it appears the hold those beybladers have on me is invincible. So I figured I'd give in to the cravings this one time and return to the world of fanfic publication…

Oh dear.

Before I start I'd first like to mention that I am going to have to take some liberties and alter certain episodes and details of the series to make this story work… so I guess it's going to be slightly AU. Second, for anyone previously reading Toska when I first published I apologize for taking it down so suddenly, time restraints got hold of me and I had originally decided to turf the project. One year later I've changed my mind, but it's important to note that new chapters could appear anywhere from 2 weeks to 9 months apart with my busy schedule.

Here's a quick list of the "need to know" changes ahead.

- The biggest one is to the Hiwatari family. This is a Russian family with a Russian Military Company and their surname is Hiwatari… I'm changing this. For the sake of this story Voltaire's surname is Vetrov. Kai uses his mom's name so we'll stick with Hiwatari for him, but his father's side of the family is no longer at all Japanese.

- In the original Japanese version Voltaire's name is Souichirou. Again, we're having the Japanese problem. However, I'm pretty sure Voltaire is actually a French name… regardless, he's one of the few characters who will have his English dub first name. He's not really in the story, but when he's mentioned I wanted to give you a heads up.

- In the manga Kai's father's name is Susumu. Also changing. I'm going by the anime story line so this character is 100% my OC.

- In the anime when Kai gets his hands on Black Dranzer and "destroys" the abbey he looks to be about 7/8 ish. For this story he was 12 when it happened.

- Bitbeast names will be the english dub

Names in this Chapter (For anyone not up to speed on the Japanese original): Yuriy Ivanov - Tala Valkov

Warnings: Ignorant Characters make for ignorant dialogue. Apologies in advance. Though most aren't appearing in this chapter there will be some major OC's that play important roles in this story, as well as added family members. If you're ok with all that I implore you to give this story a shot.


The sun blazed high in the sky, its scorching heat beating down on the small team of soldiers that sat exposed in the hot, crimson stained desert sand. The smallest of the seven yawned, stretched his arms above his head, and plunked backwards onto the ground, his expression one of boredom. While the others felt much the same he was the only one whom did not appear to be suffering any sort of discomfort in the extreme heat and instead was strictly focused on how antsy he was growing.

"I hope he gets back soon." The eldest of the group groaned as she fanned herself with a hand. "It's fucking hot out here."

The young man that lay in the sand leaned his head backwards, craning his neck. With a grin he reached for something that caught his eye, pulled it closer, then threw it at his teammate. "Use that for shade." He snorted.

A severed arm, burnt and bloody, landed in the girls lap. She pinched a finger gingerly and tossed it aside, offering her fellow soldier a disgusted glance. "Nikolai, you're fucking gross… God damn psychopath."

"Aw, come on now. I'm just trying to be helpful." Nikolai retorted as he sat back up, red eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Helpful? The only thing you're any good for is mass slaughter." Stated the only blonde haired boy in the group as he pushed himself up and shifted uncomfortably onto his elbows, cringing as his skin brushed against hotter sands.

"Hmm." Nikolai glanced around the battlefield where bodies and weapons lay scattered around them, the skin of most singed charcoal. "Good thing I was here then, huh?"

"We're getting off topic." Groaned the dark skinned eldest again. "It's hot. I want shade. Or water. Or snow. Fuck, snow would be amazing. I can't wait to be back in Russia."

"Well Lucya, we've got a long wait ahead of us." The only other female replied. She pointed a thumb over her shoulder at a crumbling stone structure that was once part of a now desecrated town. "If you're so hot why don't you go hang out with the hostages for a bit."

"Because the boss said to stay put."

"So?" Nikolai snorted.

"Some of us would rather not be punished for insolence."

"Nah, some of you are just weak and cowardly." He paused. "Scratch that. All of you are."

None of the group appeared offended by the comment and paid the youngest little heed. They were used to his overconfidence, and intelligent enough to know not to challenge it. Small Nikolai may have been, but stable he was not. He was the strongest and most reckless of them all, and he was not to be trifled with.

"So when does round two begin?" Nikolai climbed to his feet and dusted off his black pants.

The squad were all fitted in the same uniform. Dark grey cargo pants, made of a material much too thick for the desert and better suited for the harsh Russian winters, fitted with a belt around the waist and knife holsters at the side of each thigh, black steel-toed combat boots, black tank-top, and a black military style coat that none of the team were currently wearing, which left the winged cross tattoos on their right shoulders exposed.

"Whenever the boss gets back."

"Nah, I don't mean the execution. I mean round two of this" Nikolai held out his arms and looked to the massacre's remains. "I want to toast some American buns."

"We're not here to slaughter Americans. Our targets are the Arab guys." Explained the blonde boy.

"Iraqui." The younger girl corrected, though she herself was not entirely certain who it was they were fighting.

"Whatever. The brown guys with the stupid headgear then."

"That's racist Vasily."

"Marina, we're here to kill the fucking cunts. Do you think I care in the least if I'm insulting them beforehand?"

"You could stand to be a -little- more respectful."

"Ugh. Who cares who it is. I'm bored. I want to shed some blood." Nikolai turned his head to the building wreckage. "Think Kirill would mind if I tortured one of the assholes in there?"

"I think he'd torture -you- for even considering it." Lucya stated.

"Neat."

At that moment Vasily rose quickly to his feet and ushered the others to follow suit. "Guys! He's on his way back. I see him."

In the distance, blurred by waves formed by the heat, two figures approached. One, the taller of the two, was easily recognizable by the black uniform that stood out against the copper sands. The desert camouflaged uniform of the American soldier he marched beside, however, was much more difficult to see.

Kirill Vetrov was a fearless man, told true in the confidence he had presented himself with when he had sought out the General in this barren wasteland and proven even more so when the American's eyes fell upon the remnants of the battlefield.

"As you can see-" Kirill continued on the current conversation, his English so flawless that one would not guess him at all to be of Russian origin. "My soldiers have already infiltrated a camp and have captured the terrorists which you have been hunting." He waved a hand in gesture to his team and Lucya immediately marched into the decayed shelter. In a moment she appeared again, kicking at two bound men who were tripping over their own feet as they tried to walk with their restraints.

The general watched in both awe and confusion. For months they had been searching for these men and their cell only for a group of Russian strangers to locate them on a whim. If he had not known Kirill he would have found it suspicious, but as it were they had shaken hands many a time in the past. He was the General's secret door to Russian intel, as he was Kirill's to America's.

"Is this your whole team?" Questioned the grey-haired military leader.

"This is it." Kirill proudly replied.

"But, they're so few, and so… young." The general looked over the faces of the young soldiers. The oldest could not have been more than 21, and two were still very obviously in their teens.

"Never underestimate the power of youth." Kirill waved a hand and Nikolai stepped from the line towards him. "My great grandfather began research on weaponizing the human body in order to create genetically superior soldiers to fight in World War II. Though unsuccessful his research has passed down the generations and in the late 80's my father and I finally stumbled upon the key. In the last 10 years we perfected it." He put a hand on Nikolai's back and turned the youngest of the group to face the two cowering terrorists. "This, General Brooks, is Russia's best kept secret."

Nikolai snapped his fingers, igniting a spark. Beneath his skin his veins began to glow a ebony, pulsing with his heartbeat as a wave of black flame enclosed around his arm. The red of his eyes intensified and with a hysterical laugh the fire erupted from his hands and wrapped around the two trembling criminals who begged and pleaded for their lives with desperate screams of repentance. The blaze took the shape of a great winged beast before it fell and blanketed the two men, filling the air with the scent of burning flesh and the lingering echo of agonized dying screams.

"Th-this is impossible!" General Brooks stuttered, searching the boy up and down with his eyes for some kind of concealed weapon. "How?"

"Many years of grueling research, and a little… magic."

"This is incredible but, why now? Why dig your nose into this war? Russia has little hand in-"

"General, you let me worry about that. Now what do you say? Take on these soldiers and I guarantee that you will see an end to this war of terror in the next year. Wouldn't it be lovely to return home to your wife and daughter?"

For a moment Brooks was speechless as he glanced between Kirill and his 'army'. "Are there more of these… these soldiers?"

"Yes."

"As strong as him?"

"Well, yes. But I'm afraid the strongest of them are not quite ready for battle just yet."

The morning was growing late, but Kai Hiwatari was in no hurry. His tie hung loosely around his neck and the green jacket of his school uniform remained unbuttoned as he double checked his reflection in the mirror. The blue triangles that usually lined his face were gone, a bottle of tattoo-grade concealer on the bathroom counter the only indication that they were hidden and not washed away. Content that the blue could not be seen and the makeup was not clumped or obvious, Kai stashed the bottle away in a black bag beneath the sink and turned away to start for class, scooping up his bag and pocketing his Dranzer beyblade before stepping out of his dorm.

Three and a half thousand kilometres away the tired form of Yuriy Ivanov plunked itself down against the hard, ratty futon that had been left behind by the previous owner of his shabby bachelor apartment. Ice blue eyes stared at the peeling white paint on the ceiling above and his stomach made its irritation at its emptiness well known. He placed a hand and rubbed his caved in belly. "Soon." He muttered. "I got an actual job last night. A few more days and I can finally eat something that I haven't dug out of a garbage bin." He rolled over onto his side and reached out to his coffee table where he scooped up Wolborg's blade. The bit was empty, but the wolf's presence was not gone. He closed his eyes. "Soon I can leave this fucking Country behind…"