Chapter Three: Tempers Rising

The Blitzkrieg Boys (now renamed as the Demolition Boys) had arrived in Japan. Kai noticed the status update on Bey Network, the number one social networking site for bladers all around the world. That could only mean one thing – Tala and his friends were interested in participating in the upcoming world tournament. He suspected his former teammate believed they had a better chance of winning now that Tyson was the only remaining Bladebreaker left competing.

Needless to say, Kai didn't hold his former team in high regard. They weren't as skilled as they thought themselves to be, and they'd be lucky to make it to the finals. Other teams, such as the PBB All-Stars and White Tigers, had shown much improvement in the last tournament while the Blitzkrieg Boys preferred to stick to their old methods.

A part of him wondered why he was even bothering to visit the team. It wasn't like he was close friends with any of them, but he shared a history with Tala and friends that he couldn't ignore. That was why he was here now outside their training quarters, waiting for one of them to open the door and let him in.

Their accommodation was nothing more than an old apartment block in the shady part of town. Only the brave would walk the streets after the sun dipped below horizon for unruly bladers would prowl the streets, searching for easy victims to steal off. They were yet to have been given an official name, but Kai called them 'wild bladers'. Wild bladers were hunters. They worked in pairs, sometimes groups of threes, prowling the streets at night, waiting to ambush an unsuspecting victim.

In some ways, they reminded him of the infamous parts hunting duo, King and Queen. It had been two years since he had last seen them, but he hadn't forgotten losing to the pair. The duo had since disappeared after the second tournament, and Kai hoped to never cross paths with them again. They reminded him of his own shady history back when he was the leader of the Blade Sharks.

Pushing grim thoughts aside, Kai curled his fingers into a fist then knocked on the door three times once again. Couldn't Tala invest in a door bell? It would make things so much easier. He waited what seemed like minutes when the door opened, revealing Ian, the youngest member of the team. That was a face he hadn't seen in years.

"Kai, we meet again," Ian said, glancing up at him, a smug smirk plastered on his face. He pulled the door back, stepped aside and allowed Kai in before closing it behind him.

The apartment's exterior was nothing to be boastful of, but its interior was surprisingly half-decent. It wasn't exactly large, but there was enough space for four people. A glass table for four separated the kitchen and the lounge. A leather couch was pressed up against a cream-coloured wall positioned beneath a large painting of the outback. Opposite to the couch was a seventy inch plasma television screen sitting on top a black table.

"Tala, he's here!" Ian crowed. He moved towards the couch and flopped down on it, crossing his right leg over his left.

Moments later, Tala appeared. He was accompanied by Bryan and Spencer. "Look what the cat dragged in," Bryan commented sourly. There was no love between Kai, Bryan and Spencer. Relations had soured after an intense training session which had left the two bladers unconscious on the floor. Kai hadn't even bothered to check up on them afterwards – they were just living target dummies to him.

Kai ignored them. Tala was the only reason he had come to this part of town. "Did you come here looking to strike a deal with us again?" The red-headed blader asked. His arms were folded across his chest, and his eyes were narrowed with suspicion. As welcoming as ever.

"I have no interest in joining with you again, Tala," Kai replied calmly. "Haven't you heard the news? I retired from the professional life."

"Then why have you come? I can't imagine you came all this way out of the goodness of your heart."

Kai took a step closer. His eyes didn't miss the clenching of fists from both Spencer and Bryan. So, that's how it is, Kai thought. You still don't trust me… and I don't suppose I've ever given you a reason to. "I'm here because I thought you might like to know about the recent turn in events. Spencer, Bryan, I suggest you lower your fists… I'm not here to cause trouble."

The two bladers looked to Tala. Tala nodded. They relaxed – but only just. Kai was sure if Tala gave the order, Bryan and Spencer would not hesitate to launch their blades at him. Their devotion to Tala was fascinating, and something his mind struggled to comprehend. Why hadn't they ever shown such loyalty towards him? "Speak."

"Stanley's been shot dead. He was murdered in broad daylight just a few days ago during a public event."

Tala raised a brow. "So the old man has finally dropped dead. I don't see why this concerns us – we have no ties to the BBA."

"It should concern you because it means there's another player in the game," Kai explained, moving closer still. Now he was just an arm's reach from his former teammate. "Someone who wanted the BBA out of the way permanently. What better way to achieve that than to shoot the man behind the organization dead?"

Ian sat up, brows furrowed. "You don't think it was Boris, do you?"

Kai shook his head. "No. As delusional as Boris was, I doubt he'd shoot someone dead. That's not his style." His preferred method was mind games and tricks. The man had a natural way with words. "It can't be Voltaire either. He is still behind bars." He knew this because the man often sent him letters to 'meet up'.

"A former BIOVOLT employee?" Spencer said. "Boris can't have been the only madman in the organization."

It was possible. Perhaps a few of them had taken inspiration from Boris and decided to do something on their own. Maybe Boris had a group of followers carrying out his orders from beyond the iron bars to wreck havoc on the world and disrupt the peace until his time was served. But the timing was all wrong. If this was Boris causing problems then why hadn't he pulled this stunt after losing the first tournament?

"Possible, but I don't think BIOVOLT is behind this," Kai replied. "They wouldn't wait this long to strike back. Are you sure you want to compete in the upcoming tournament?"

"Nothing will change our minds, Kai. You of all people should know that," Tala answered. "But then again, you were never the one to concern yourself with the thoughts and feelings of those around you."

Resentment? Jealousy? Did Tala still bear a grudge against him after all these long years? Kai narrowed his eyes. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You left Bryan and Spencer unconscious on the floor in a private training room," Tala pointed out. "You didn't tell me where you had taken my teammates. I reported them missing, and it took hours for the security to locate them. Fortunately, Bryan and Spencer sustained only minor injuries, but it could've been a lot worse."

"I don't take orders from you, Tala."

"And I don't appreciate you using my team to further your own ambition."

Kai snorted. He couldn't help it. "Your team? If I remember correctly, we were both part of the Blitkzrieg Boys, and I brought the team to the finals." If not for his efforts, the Blitzkrieg Boys would've been lucky to get past the White Tigers. Tala hadn't exactly been impressive, and his easy loss to Garland was embarrassing.

"You might have been part of the Blitzkrieg Boys, Kai, but you were never one of us. You haven't the understanding of what it means to be part of a team because loyalty isn't something you can comprehend," Tala retorted, anger growing in his tone. "You switch teams whenever the opportunity to further your own ambition arises. Maybe you're not so different from grandfather, after all."

Kai tightened his jaw, anger rising. To bring Voltaire into a conversation and compare that… that monster to himself? "I am nothing like Voltaire," he replied, through clenched teeth. "Voltaire wanted was best for himself. He used others to achieve his goals without care for anyone else." He used me to carry out his mad plans, and I was a fool to believe in him, he thought.

"And how is that any different to your actions, Kai? You turned your back on BIOVOLT twice. You turned your back on the Bladebreakers several times. You turned your back on BEGA. You turned your back on us. Betrayal is in your blood, Kai." Bryan, Spencer and Ian remained silent, allowing Tala to do all the talking, but judging by the hard expressions on their faces, they shared the same opinion as Tala about him. "And I would be a fool to extend a hand of friendship towards you again."

"I came here to warn you about a possible threat."

"And I appreciate that, Kai, but we can fend for ourselves. We're not as weak as you think us to be."

Why had he bothered visiting the Blitkzrieg Boys again? What a waste of his time this had been. "Fine. Have it your way. I'll see myself out." He turned his back and headed for the door, feeling their eyes watching him retreat. A bubbling pit of anger stirred in his stomach. He was not Voltaire. The man didn't deserve to have his name in the same sentence as his own.

"And don't ever come back. You're not one of us, and you never will be."

Kai slammed the door shut.

.

"What do you mean Stanley Dickinson has died?" Enrique repeated, glancing up from his phone, concerned. "I didn't realize he was battling an illness."

Oliver wiped his eyes then drew in a breath before exhaling. "He was murdered at a public appearance. Shot dead by a silent assassin."

Robert didn't voice his opinion on the topic, preferring to listen to all the details on the matter. Johnny knew he was deep in thought, most likely running through potential suspects already. Stanley Dickinson shot dead. Why would someone want to kill a man like that unless someone wanted him out of the way for whatever reason?

"Stanley didn't harm anyone," Enrique stated. "What reason would someone have to justify murdering him in cold blood?"

That was the smartest question Enrique had raised all day. Perhaps he wasn't so clueless after all. "A threat," Johnny answered. "We didn't have much to do with Stanley, but you have to admit, he had a lot of influence. The man has relations all around the world. He's probably the richest man… Well, was." Perhaps even wealthier than their team combined. That was a worrying thought. "But it shouldn't concern us. Stanley wasn't our sponsor."

"He's dead, Johnny," Enrique countered. "We might not have known the man all that well, but pay the man the respect he deserves. He did a lot for the sport."

"And made a mess of the third world cup with all those ridiculous new rules," Johnny said. "We should've taken Barthaz Battalion's spot when the allegations of cheating were proven right, but we were refused because it was 'too late'. I say he just didn't want us there to mess up his poster boy's run for another world cup title." Because really the Majestics were the only team in the world that could hold their own ground against the Bladebreakers.

"You just want to face Kai again," Enrique said. "But even so, you won't get the chance because he's retired now."

"He'll be back," Johnny stated. "Dickinson dead, BBA world thrown into chaos… I think now is a great time to come back to the game, and I hope he does. World cup isn't the same without some half-decent competition. Let's face it – do we really want to blade in a tournament against amateurs? If it's just Tyson competing, what's the point?"

"Jonathan raises a solid point," Robert said, finally speaking up. "A world tournament isn't as challenging if the best bladers aren't competing. However, on the other hand, we have never competed in such an event before, and I think the rest of the world deserves to know what we are capable of."

Enrique nodded. "The last big match I had was against Tyson in Rome. I'm itching for another chance." He looked to Oliver. "It's awful Stanley has died, but I think we should continue on the fight. What do you say?"

The boy's eyes were red. A new flood of tears rolled down his pallid cheeks. People were looking in their direction. Some were leaning in and whispering words into each other's ears. Most likely trying their hardest not to laugh at Nancy's inability to control his emotions in public.

"Hold yourself together," Johnny snapped, irritated. "People are watching us, and I don't want our good names to be mocked because of you."

Enrique glared. "I think Oliver has a perfectly good reason to be upset. Show a little bit of compassion, Johnny… Or at least try to. It won't kill you."

"Save it for the bedroom where no one can see him make an embarrassment of himself," Johnny retorted. He then looked to Robert for some support. "You have sense. Tell him to stop crying like a little girl."

Surely Robert, the most level-headed of the group, would see this as an embarrassment of the team? He prided himself on remaining calm and in control at all times. Allowing emotions to takeover only led to embarrassing scenes like this. If Oliver had been a girl such an act would be acceptable, but coming from a male? Unacceptable!

"Oliver, you must try to hold it together. We are in public, and you are at work – this is not a good image for the media," Robert said calmly. Johnny couldn't see any media hounds, but they were probably there somewhere, spying on them since they had nothing better to do with their miserable lives than prey on the unfortunate. "We will discuss this later when Oliver has finished his shift. This is a serious matter. Oliver, clean yourself up and return to work."

Trust Robert to come up with those words. Oliver wiped his eyes, bit down on his bottom lip, and returned to the workplace, avoiding all eye contact with surrounding members of the public. Johnny wished the ground would eat him up whole and spit him out someplace else so he didn't have to be here and endure the embarrassment. Trust Oliver to screw things up. The headline of tomorrow's paper would probably read, 'Majestics – Royal Crybabies?'

"Did you have to be so cruel?" Enrique demanded. Amazingly, the boy had put his phone away.

"I'm looking out for the team," he shot back. "We have a reputation to live up to, and we're about to lose it because of Nancy-Boy! Maybe if you weren't so busy looking at porn on your phone you'd try and do what's best for the team as well!"

Enrique's mouth dropped open. "I'm not looking at porn!"

"Then what were you grinning at?"

"A friend told me a joke," Enrique replied. He then lowered his voice and muttered, "Not that you would know anything about that since you don't have any friends."

A muscle jerked in his jaw. Why that arrogant Italian bastard… He surged to his feet, and glared. "What was that?" he demanded.

"Jonathan, please sit down," Robert said. "You are embarrassing us."

That caught his attention. Holding back a frustrated growl, Johnny sat back down his chair, folding his arms across his chest. Why did he have to be stuck on a team of infuriating people? There was Oliver and his over sensitivity. Enrique and his annoying everything. Even Robert could be infuriating with his cold calmness. "We should leave."

"And satisfy the public? We will not hand over control to them," Robert stated as calmly as ever. He grabbed the menu of the table, opened it, and scanned the list of items. "Jonathon, control yourself. Enrique, stop provoking him."

"It's not my fault he's so sensitive," Enrique protested.

"I am not sensitive!"

Enrique held out a hand. "See what I mean?"

"Maybe if you stopped talking I wouldn't have anything to complain about!"

"Maybe you should stop replying to every comment I make."

"And give you the satisfaction of feeling like you've won? Ha! Never!"

"Stop turning everything into a battle – are you trying to compensate for something?"

"Ask yourself the same question since you're the one who feels he needs to be the first to brag about everything."

Robert placed the menu down on the table. "I will try some of Oliver's special French toast. Would you like anything?" He looked to Enrique first who shook his head then turned to Johnny.

"I'd say yes, but it's hard to focus on food when you're sitting across from someone who is wearing clothes that resemble the colours of cat's vomit," Johnny said, rather pleased with himself at that snarky comment. Much to his satisfaction, Enrique took the bait and fired back with a comment of his own. Who was the sensitive one now?

"Hey – I chose this myself!"

"Well that confirms it. You are colour blind!"

Enrique frowned. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing? It took me a good two hours!"

Johnny struggled not to snicker. "Your jacket is far too small, your yellow shirt is ugly as sin, and those pants? The colour of cat's vomit and your cooking!"

"Who made you fashion police? It's not like you can talk – look at what you're wearing! You look like one of those homeless people we walked past one night! Did you walk up to a trash can and rummage around for some cheap clothes?"

"At least I can control my bitbeast!" he blurted out, changing the topic to something other than fashion. It was taking all his willpower not to leap across the table and tackle Enrique to the floor. If only Robert wasn't present… the arrogant Italian boy was certainly asking for a good beating. Oh how he'd love to wipe that smug smirk off his face and give him a black eye…

"That was a one-off and you know it!"

"Only a weak blader would fail to control their bitbeast."

Enrique climbed to his feet. Before he could speak another word, Robert intervened yet again, rising up from his chair. "Jonathan, please leave," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. He didn't even look at him when he issued the order.

"What?" Johnny repeated.

Robert sighed. "Please return to the hotel you are staying at. I will summon you when required."

Was this really happening? Had Robert just sent him away but not Enrique? "The fuck?"

He didn't miss the visible cringe on Robert's face when the word left his mouth. Robert didn't like such words. To him, profanity was vulgar and only used by the uneducated or the lower class. "Leave at once. Don't make me ask you again." Still not even a glance in his direction. An even larger crowd had amassed. One person was even taking photos.

He hated them all. Every. Single. One. He was no stranger to being in the spotlight, but this? This was something else. He was in the spotlight for all the wrong reasons. Tomorrow's headlines would now read, 'Majestics – Split Inevitable After Public Meltdown?' He felt hot all of a sudden, as if his insides were burning. "Fuck you, Robert!" Johnny retorted, flipping his middle finger as a big 'fuck you'. "Fuck you too, Enrique! Fuck this bull shit about 'being a team' because we're not!"

Well, he had done it now. Given the public a reason to talk. He wouldn't be surprised to see his photo all over Bey Network tomorrow with lame captions beneath them. Maybe it was a good thing Oliver had gone into hiding. At least he didn't have to witness this. But why stop now? It wasn't like he could rewind the clock and go back in time. Maybe he was acting like a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum, but he was past the point of caring now.

"Jonathan…" Robert started.

"Just shut up! Shut the fuck up! I don't wanna hear another one of your lame lectures on being an upstanding citizen! I don't answer to you – or anyone else for that matter! The Majestics competing as a team for the tournament is just a dream, Robert. I'm done with this shit." Blood pounding in his head, Johnny turned his back and stormed off. As he retreated, he caught the following conversation:

"Seems someone skipped anger management class again."

"Jonathon never attended such classes."

Silence then,

"Are you just going to let him walk?"

"Let him be."

Stanley Dickinson wouldn't be the only one making headlines around the world.

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Thanks to Desires of Autumn Leaves for reviewing the previous chapters! I know this story has been up before, but if you are reading it again, or are new, I hope you're happy to see it here.