A/N: Hey! First off, I apologize for the huge gap between updates. I was gone for vacation plus I was shifting, so I only just got access to the internet again. I don't think that updates will take this long in the future. I've already typed it till chapter 5, any how. I'll probably post the next chapter in a week's time. Anyway, here's chapter 2:

"How are you going to get it opened?" asked Ian skeptically. The boy was squeezed into one corner of the seat, as Tala had decided to put his sack up as well. Tala pointed to the flat. "Well, I assume the shopkeeper lives there, and Bryan's screech should've…Ah." Their eyes followed the direction in which his finger was pointing. They saw that the window of the flat had been opened and a man with graying hair was sticking his head out, shaking his fist at them and saying something that sounded like "Crazy kids".

Tala poked his head out of the window, and, cupping his hands around his face, he called, "Sorry about that. My friend got a little overenthusiastic." He ignored Bryan's protest. "It won't happen again." The man looked mollified, and was going to pull his head back in, but Tala called out, "Wait!" He looked at him inquiringly. "We have a bit of a problem here. Can you come and help?" The man hesitated for a moment before nodding and disappearing, shutting the window behind him.

"Overenthusiastic?" said Bryan, craning his head to look at his friend in disbelief.

Tala nodded. "Yeah, and now I'm going to tell him you hurt your arm and need a bandage."

"And what will you say to him when there's nothing on my arm?" asked Bryan scathingly.

"What, you don't have any scars on your arm?" asked Tala incredulously. "Just show him one of those. You can tell him that you've already cleaned up the blood."

Bryan rolled his eyes, sitting back in his seat. "Alright," he said reluctantly. "I don't know what you're planning but I'll play along."

"Good; I'm making it up as we go."

At that moment the shopkeeper came downstairs, looking at them slightly suspiciously. Tala stepped out of the jeep, followed by Bryan. Tala nudged his companion slightly, in response to which Bryan held onto his arm and groaned, rolling his eyes at the same time. The man looked at Bryan with concern, and then glanced at the jeep. Did Tala see a flicker of envy in his eyes? That was most definitely a good sign. He smirked as the man asked Bryan, "What's wrong?"

"I've hurt my arm," said Bryan, shooting a look at Tala that clearly said 'You owe me'. Tala chose to ignore it.

"That's what comes of reckless driving," said the man severely, earning a glare from Bryan. "Come on now, show me your arm." Bryan had already pushed his sleeve back, and he stepped forward, holding out his arm. The man saw it and gasped. There were no less than four scars marring the pale skin. They were all long and white, the longest running the full length down Bryan's arm. "W-which one?" he stammered, unable to drag his gaze away from the scars.

Bryan shrugged slightly; all of them were scars… what was the difference? He studied them all closely, and finally jabbed at the most recent one. This was slightly thicker than the others, and was still rather raw. The man swatted his hand away. "What are you doing, poking it like that?" he said angrily. "I suppose you have cleaned the blood already?" Bryan nodded, looking vaguely amused at the man's evident horror. "I…does it hurt?" asked the man, curiosity getting the better of him.

He stared at Bryan with a sort of horrified fascination as the boy casually ran a finger down the scar he had chosen. Grinning when the man shuddered, he shrugged nonchalantly and replied, "Not particularly." Seeing the glare from Tala, however, he added, "When I hold it straight, that is… when I bend it," he demonstrated, "It really hurts."

"Then don't bend it!" said the man angrily, his voice rather high-pitched. "Alright then, I'll get some bandages and antiseptic." The two waited until he returned. "You must come inside and have breakfast with me," he said, after he finished bandaging Bryan's arm. He insisted on putting antiseptic on the lavender haired boy's other scars as well, to Bryan's annoyance, not unmixed with amusement.

"No," Tala declined the offer politely. They couldn't afford to stop now; they had to stop in some place where no one would look for them. "We have already had breakfast." The man nodded and turned. "There is, however, one more thing you can do for us."

The man turned back at once. He was willing to do just about anything out of sympathy for these 'poor, injured boys'. While bandaging Bryan's arm, he had asked Tala to help. Tala had pushed up his sleeves, and he had a fine collection of scars too, which had horrified the man beyond measure. He was now convinced they needed care and protection.

"You could exchange that valuable, state of the art jeep of ours for something else," said Tala hopefully. Seeing the man hesitate, he hurriedly added, "It really is valuable, you know. Much more so than, say, a Pajero." The man looked at the jeep again, considering the offer. The jeep was, as Tala said, rather valuable, and probably high-costing. Also, there wasn't a single scratch on it. It would certainly be a bargain…

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"That was priceless," said Ian, voicing his and Spencer's thoughts. Tala was now behind the wheel, driving. Bryan was in the passenger seat, and Spencer had joined Ian at the back. Ian was glad; although Spencer was definitely more heavily built than Tala, Tala insisted on sprawling out so that three-quarters of the seat was occupied. Spencer sat perfectly straight, so now the midget could sprawl.

Bryan, who had been driving all night, was keeping his eyes open just so that he could remove the bandages. The man had put layer after layer after layer, and it was beginning to annoy him, until finally the blasted thing came off, revealing his skin. He leaned back, satisfied, and almost immediately fell asleep.

"Yeah," agreed Tala, not bothering with a certain quality known as modesty. He gripped the wheel of the silver Pajero tightly as he veered around a corner. He had never really driven before; neither had Bryan, when it came to that. They didn't have licenses, but so far they had been fine.

"One thing though," Ian said, speaking up again. "I wish you'd accepted the breakfast offer. I'm starving."

"We can't stop here," replied Tala. "We have to stop somewhere where no one will find us." Ian subsided into silence. The moments passed peacefully, without any conversation. Suddenly, Tala brought the car to a stop with a screech that rivaled Bryan's. Bryan, who had been trying to catch some sleep, woke up at once. He was a very light sleeper.

"Dammit Tala," he growled, looking at the redhead murderously. "Do you have to do that?" Tala ignored him; he was staring at something that was on the wall beside them. Bryan followed his gaze. There, on the wall, was a poster advertising a circus.

"They'll never look for us here," replied Tala in a low voice.

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Igor scrambled to his feet as the shopkeeper unlocked the door. The shopkeeper surveyed him warily. That phone call last night had confused him, and he had thought about it long and hard, until he came to the conclusion that the person had been warning him about a terrorist plot. He looked at Igor narrowly. He looked like the terrorist type, heavyset, muscular, holding a revolver.

"My name is Igor," Igor began to speak, only to have the man jump about a mile into the air. He stopped, confused.

"And you are here to buy one or two guns?" asked the man, looking suspicious.

"No, actually, I am here to buy a large amount of weaponry in order to restock—"

"Are you part of the armed forces? The police?" asked the man, cutting Igor off in mid-sentence. Igor looked even more confused than before, and shook his head to indicate 'no'. The man slammed the door in the surprised guard's face. "Do not come back!" he exclaimed. "We don't co-operate with terrorists!"

"But I'm not—" Igor heaved a sigh as the man hung up a 'closed' sign and glared at him. He clenched his fists as he turned around, planning to return to the Abbey. When he finally reached, he conveyed the news to Denis, not having the guts to convey it directly to Boris. Therefore, Denis once again found himself rapping on the door to Boris' office with bad news in store. He cursed his luck when Boris ordered him to enter.

"Denis, why aren't my lights working?" asked Boris before the chief guard could say anything. Denis shuddered before plunging in.

"They sabotaged the electrical system," he explained miserably. Boris clenched his fist, but luckily for Denis, there was nothing that could be thrown about at hand.

"Call an electrician and have it fixed!" he said through gritted teeth.

"Yes sir," replied Denis. "One other thing, sir."

"Ah, yes, why haven't you and your men started out yet?" asked Boris, ignoring Denis. "You know those four won't be easy to catch, and the more time you waste, the further away they get."

"That is because," Denis paused a moment and then continued in a small voice, "Because they raided our arsenal. Igor went to restock it, but the shopkeeper won't sell him any because he thinks Igor is a terrorist."

"Just start out," snapped Boris. "You may buy ammo on the way yourselves. There is no use dithering now. Leave."

"One more thing, sir," said Denis. Boris passed a hand tiredly over his face, but said nothing. Taking this as a sign to continue, Denis said, "They have stolen your jeep."

"My jeep?" exclaimed Boris in horror. "Not one of the Abbey's? Mine? Are you absolutely sure?" Denis miserably replied that he was sure. Boris put his face in his hands. Suddenly, he looked up and an ugly smile crept over his lined face. Denis was beginning to feel slightly afraid of his employer now.

"They stole my jeep, eh?" asked Boris; this time, however, he sounded happy. "Let me run something by you, Denis." Denis remained silent. "Take a seat. Why are you standing?" Denis obediently sat down as far from Boris as possible. "The Abbey is a very secretive organization. In the eyes of the outside world it is just a regular, respectable training centre with, perhaps, a few dozen members. The police have nothing against us. Therefore, the police have nothing against me, the head of this respectable organization. So, if a group of delinquent boys steal my car, what happens?" Denis suddenly understood what he was driving at. A smile crept over his face too as he made his reply.

"They become criminals, wanted by law."

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Tala ground his teeth in frustration as he took yet another wrong turn. They couldn't afford to stop and ask directions, because then, random passersby would be able to describe them to the Abbey's search party. In fact, to prevent people from seeing them, they had put sunshades on all the windows, including the one at the back. They had only left a small portion in front of Tala free so he could see where he was going.

"Tala, I don't think we're going to find it," remarked Ian. "We might as well—"

"Shut up," snarled Tala, reversing without even bothering to check whether the coast was clear. Ian braced his hands against the back of Bryan's seat to prevent himself from lurching forward.

"I'm just say—Hey, Tala?"

"What?" he snapped.

"There it is," he pointed towards a place to their side that he could only see by peeking behind the sunshade. Tala craned his neck to make sure the midget wasn't joking. When he was satisfied, he turned the car in that general direction. Miraculously, this time no wrong turns were taken, and presently the car rolled up in front of the circus enclosure.

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"Oi! Julia!" called a voice. Julia, a fifteen-year-old with brown-and-orange hair and green eyes, turned around in the direction of the yell. She saw her twin brother, Raul, standing several feet away, hands cupped around his mouth. Standing there in the sunlight, his bright red hair was something of an eyesore. He took his hands down when he saw she had heard him. "Romero wants to see you," he said, sounding disgruntled.

"Ok, be there in a minute," she called back. She turned back to her friend, Chelsea, a girl with shoulder-length reddish brown hair and green eyes. Chelsea was the daughter of the circus owner, and she used to help around while setting up a show. She herself wasn't part of any acts. At the moment, she was helping the manager of the horses, Greg, to clean the stables out. "See you two later," said Julia, running her hand through a beautiful black horse's mane before walking in the direction of her coach's trailer.

She rapped on the door and entered without waiting. Her coach, a man with untidy blond hair, was bending over one of the numerous plants he kept inside his trailer. In fact, it was jammed so full of flowerpots that there was barely enough room to move about. He spun around dramatically when he heard her entering to face her.

"You wanted me, coach?" she asked, folding her arms.

"Yes, I just wanted to ask, are you quite ready for tonight's act?" asked Romero anxiously. Romero was usually calm and laid back, but before Raul and Julia's beyblade act, he would totally lose his cool. It showed his 'great confidence' in their abilities, Raul had remarked once. "Quite ready? I mean, I asked Raul, but what about you, are you fine? Quite—"

Knowing that this could continue for quite a while yet, Julia interrupted, "Yes, yes, yes to all questions! Did you put Raul through this just now? No wonder he sounded so annoyed."

"Yes, but I just wanted to make sure. It's our first time in Russia, you know. We want to leave a good impression. So are you sure—"

"Your faith in us touches me," interrupted Julia.

"I'm sorry, but—are you sure? Positive? Confident?" he asked, brow wrinkling. Doubtlessly, he would have continued, had Julia not cut him off yet again.

"Bye, coach," she said, rolling her eyes and stepping backwards out of the trailer. Shutting the door, she turned around and walked right into her brother.

"Sorry," he said, stepping back. "Hey, there's this car pulling up next to the fence… Think you could go see what they want?"

"Sure," replied Julia, spotting the silver Pajero that her brother was referring to. She walked off in its direction.

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Eduard Smirnov sat at his desk, rifling through his drawer in search of a packet of sugar. When he couldn't find it, he shrugged philosophically and reached for the steaming black coffee. Without even bothering to add milk, he finished half of it in one long gulp. He grimaced; normally he never drank coffee, but this had not been a normal day, or, more appropriately, night. The police Inspector had stayed up the entire night looking through files, organizing them and throwing out the old and outdated ones.

He glanced at a picture of him standing with his family. There was his wife standing next to him, tugging his youngest child, a five-year-old girl, by the hand, trying to coax her into the picture. Beside him stood his eight-year-old son. He grinned at the picture as his intercom rang. Picking it up, he distractedly said, "Hello?"

"Sir, Mr. Boris Balkov wishes to meet with you," came the voice of his secretary. "I told him you are busy, but he said it is urgent and must be called to your attention immediately." Eduard sighed heavily. Of course, if he did not invite Boris into his office, Boris would file a complaint.

"Alright then," he said. "Send him in." He had never liked Boris Balkov. He seemed the sort of person who was capable of blackmail, murder, and all other crimes imaginable. As the door opened, he instinctively reached out and put the photo-frame into his desk to shield it from Boris' eyes. He knew it was paranoid, but he couldn't help himself.

"Please take a seat, Mr. Balkov," he said courteously. Boris sat down on the armchair placed in front of Eduard's cluttered desk. The purple haired man had a rather pleased flicker in his eyes, which made Eduard rather uncomfortable. Boris hoisted a briefcase onto the inspector's desk and opened it. He took out four small passport sized photographs and placed them in front of Eduard.

Eduard looked at them. The foremost one had the picture of a sixteen-year old redhead with a strikingly pale face and icy blue eyes. There was a lavender haired boy with grey eyes, a dark purple haired one with a rather large nose and a placid-looking blonde, who was probably the most normal-looking of the group. All in all, these four could very easily be identified… Eduard looked up from the pictures and waited for an explanation.

"These are four members of my training facility," said Boris smoothly. "They were the most talented and, therefore, were treated with the most importance. This may have gone to their heads, for last night, they decided to steal my jeep."

"Steal your jeep?" asked Eduard, surprised. He glanced at the photographs again. These boys didn't look like criminals. Experience had taught him that criminals have a hardened, desperate sort of glint in their eyes that comes from committing crime; these boys did not have that glint in their eyes. Boris, on the other hand, was a completely different story…

"Yes," said Boris, the corners of his mouth turning up. He took out a few more snapshot, this time of his jeep. "This is what it looks like. It is rather valuable, and will no doubt fetch them a rather large amount of money." Eduard couldn't believe it. These boys weren't criminals! They must have had due reason to do what they did…

"I will organize a small inquiry…" said Eduard mechanically. "You can expect me any time after noon. I will make a thorough survey of your facility to make sure that there was no actual reason for them to commit this crime."

"Thank you," smirked Boris, shutting his briefcase and standing up. He left the pictures on Eduard's desk. As the door swung shut behind him, Eduard flipped the pictures over. Their names were scrawled at the back.

"Tala Ivanov, Bryan Kuznetsóv, Ian Popov, and Spencer Petrovich," he read out loud. He didn't know why this had shaken him so much; it was probably because he personally suspected Boris of child abuse and several other crimes, but had never been able to get any evidence relating to this. "One of these days, Boris Balkov…" he murmured, putting the pictures in his drawer, next to that of his family.

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Tala stepped out of the car, looking around. The circus environment was so different from the Abbey. There were several fields which the circus owner seemed to have rented. One was full of trailers, another sported various animal cages and horse boxes, and yet another was bustling with activity as people were putting up an enormous tent. Presumably, the tent was meant for the show.

He scanned the place with his eyes, looking for someone who could help them out. Everybody was so preoccupied that they hadn't even noticed him. He remembered that the poster had said that there was to be a show tonight. That was probably why there was so much activity going on.

His eyes fell upon a girl of medium height walking towards them. He stood silently until she reached them and asked, "Can I help you?"

He scrutinized her for a moment and then said, "I'm Tala Ivanov. Me and my companions," he gestured towards the other three who were silently standing behind him, "are here to find out if there is any need of help here." She seemed confused, so he reluctantly continued, "We need jobs, basically."

Her expression cleared. "Ah, I see. I'll take you to Mr. Etherington, the owner. He's in charge of hiring. Follow me." She began to walk in the direction of the trailers, and after momentary hesitation, they followed. Suddenly, she stopped as though she had suddenly remembered something, and spun around, making Tala very glad he had been walking some distance away from her.

"I'm Julia Fernandez, by the way," she said with a smile. Without waiting for a reaction, she turned around and resumed walking. Tala glanced at his companions, who looked bewildered. He shrugged slightly, and continued to follow her. They soon reached the trailer.

"You're on your own now," said Julia, rapping on the door with her knuckles. "Good luck." She disappeared from their sight as someone told them to enter from inside. Tala pushed the door open and stepped inside, followed by his other three comrades.

Inside, there was a man comfortably seated on an armchair. He had a lean, muscular form. He was quite tall and had longish brown-red hair which was tied up in a ponytail. He seemed to be in his late forties. "Yes?" he asked with a pleasant smile.

Tala introduced himself, as did the other three, and then explained why they had come to the circus (excluding, of course, the part about escaping from the Abbey). Mr. Etherington seemed oddly relieved. "Ah, yes," he said, standing up. "I wanted to hire some help over here. This is the perfect time. There is, however, one condition." He looked at them anxiously. "You will have to travel around with us."

"No problem," replied Tala promptly. Traveling around with a circus was foolproof! They'd never be found…

Mr. Etherington reached out and shook each of their hands in turn.

"Welcome to the circus."

A/N: I hope you liked the chapter! Please review! If there was something you didn't like, feel free to tell me... politely, not in a flame. Thanks to everyone who reviewed chapter 1!