(A/N): I am so proud! :D Everyone, low and behold: an author who actually makes the deadlines! Even with houseguests being a bit of a pain, I woke myself up early and got down to some serious fanfiction :D

This chapter is very special because it's up in celebration of me passing my driving test!! XD I am so RELIEVED! No more lessons for me D Okay, excitement over, let's get down to this slightly depressing fic...

I think this is my longest chapter yet, which is pretty cool. And yeah I changed the summary too; the other one was vague and boring…not that this new one isn't :P but oh well.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade or any of the characters, except for Nikita.


It certainly wasn't the last time that such terror was to be displayed before our eyes. After that day almost half of our substantial group had vanished into thin air; apparently deemed not strong enough to continue. Somebody claimed that the Leader wanted us reduced to a hundred students; a twentieth of what we started out as. And every battle won by fortune; every time a look of pure dread crossed over their dirty faces, this was our Leader's way of simply narrowing us down. Somehow simply letting them walk out in tact wasn't enough for him.

In a hesitantly bright voice, Nikita suggested that perhaps I quell my trepidation, and breathe easier with every battle won because it was improving my skills at the very least. But this had gone so far beyond beyblading by then. It just didn't feel like a game anymore. With every step we took up to the large dishes, we knew that one of us would miss our chance to step back again in victory. This felt more like a battle to stay alive.

I also didn't even believe what Nikita told me about my skills. The only thing I had properly learned how to do since I joined the abbey was launching impeccably; as I should have with all the drills we were forced to do. I could also manage thirty five weak push-ups, and learned to eat what ever was put in front of me without question. It no longer mattered what the semi-edible substance was; that simply wasn't important anymore. I finally clicked that sustenance is what would keep us strong. But my beyblading skills were another story. I may have stepped back from every dish a winner; never once feeling the anticipation before the inevitable drop, but I couldn't pick up a single skill in my strategies. I couldn't even pin-point strategies, I simply tried to out-last them, and it worked. I don't believe I was ever destined to be a proper beyblader; I just had an incredible stroke of luck for the most part. Though I would never admit this to Nikita, the boy who kept looking younger to me, with such determination he would sit awake long into the night, polishing his beyblade and thinking up battle tactics. I suppose in the end, he was the sort of person they wanted.

One early afternoon, once all my tasteless sustenance had been swallowed, I decided I could no longer waste the one free hour of the day sitting on that filthy stone pew in front of several hundred miserable and petrified students. The room where lunch was served was the abbey; the only part of the mammoth building which would have originally existed. It was the largest religious building I had ever seen, but compared to the running corridors and science laboratories below, everything above ground just felt so small. Dumping my chipped plate on top of the pile at the end of our wooden table, I left my seat and made my way back to the dark spiralling staircase which we used so often it just didn't seem scary anymore.

A majority of the students, me included on most days, would simply spend our free hour sitting in the abbey. Some would even use it to it's full capacity, kneel down before the dusty alter and prey for something good to come out of our experience; or better yet, to be allowed to go home. Though I believe they all knew that the angels with dirty faces would never hear their pleas. Under no circumstances were we allowed outside. I believe even if there ever was a fire, they would rather us roast than risk a chance of us escaping through the bars in the gate. Perhaps in those times where we were imprisoned in darkness and grime, another foreign and naïve child would walk past the beautiful building and wonder if anyone was really in there. Perhaps nobody ever was. Maybe we were all just allusions, forced into custody for eternity and never to set foot into the real world from our concealed ghost town.

I descended the stairs and made my way down the main corridor, past the fork in the path where the one skylight was placed, and plunged myself back into darkness again. I knew where I was going that afternoon; I was heading to the arena. I planned to stand away from the openings in the floor and try to perfect some kind of skill. My beyblade was planted firmly in my hand, launcher in the back pocket of my filthy, ragged clothes. Nikita had given me the idea, and for once I had seen sense in what he told me. The object of our time here was to survive above all else, and with the beybladers being narrowed down and quickly improving in a panic to better themselves, I knew I had to step my game up somewhat.

I never even had the chance to perfect some sort of skill. No sooner had I entered the room my tired eyes were drawn elsewhere. Somewhere to the left of my usual dish, one of the gaps in the floor lay open, as foreboding as ever though there was nobody above to fall through. At first I attempted to ignore it, but my incurable curiosity took over and, cursing myself all the while, I took one last look in the direction of the tinted box I preyed was empty, and jumped into the dark.

It wasn't a never-ending fall like the stories had told me. The speed at which I fell, enough to make my stomach flip over on itself, only kept my in terrified gloom for a few seconds, before I painfully landed on the cold stone floor. Perhaps the idea that you would fall for ever is what impaired those who were smashed to the ground, having not been prepared for landing at all. Pondering over this conclusion, I gingerly picked myself up and attempted to make myself aware of my surroundings.

A whimpering caught my attention. It visibly startled me and I spun around, my heart in my mouth, only to have it break a little the next second. A boy lay curled up in the corner of what I had figured out was a cell. A smaller cell than the ones we slept in, and significantly murkier. This boy didn't even notice me, as he continued to cry into his arms, whispering something in a language I never learned to properly understand.

I might have stopped to help, but I remembered Nikita's suspicion that a camera lurked in every cell. I realised I needed to keep moving if I didn't want to be caught. Believing that perhaps it was inevitable, I still knew that I had to try, and managed to force myself through the tiny gap between the bars. Instead of worrying about how thin I was becoming, I took off at a silent run down the tunnel filled with grime, the cries of boys who had lost all hope following me as I hastily tried to find a way back to the place I was before. Had Tyson ever seen this? I wondered. Had anybody ever set eyes on this sickening display other than me?

Something to my left physically stopped me in my tracks and my feet almost slipped out from under me on the slimy moss which coated the stone floor. I turned to see exactly what I had suspected, but preyed I had been mistaken. Behind the foreboding, rusty bars a frightfully thin child with bulging eyes was poking a finger into the shoulder of a boy who was all too familiar to me. He was the boy I had originally defeated, and he was dead. No more than a few days it had been, and he was already sprawled on the ground, completely immobile and more pallid than I believed possible.

The boy who had been poking him stared up at me and began to yell. The scene before me frightened me to no end, and I slowly backed away before hitting something. The contact made my heart stop for a second and my hand flew to my mouth to stop me from screaming. It was too warm to be the wall; it was a guard.

'How did you get down here' it was more of a statement than a question, and I was so shaken I found myself unable to answer. His militant voice had quelled the yelling from inside the cell. He violently turned me around to face him, and from the look on my face must have assumed I stumbled down there by accident. Considering how many different tunnels and passages there were, I'm surprised I had never wandered down there before then.

Quite unable to believe my luck, I found myself being roughly escorted down the remainder of the tunnel, focusing only on the wall and making a conscious effort not to look to my left. We attracted a lot of attention, and the screams of desperation and pleas for help were almost unbearable. I was relieved when the guard unlocked the door at the very end and we were once again ascending the shadowed stairs.

That guard had left me back in the arena where I started off, and several students were now filing in to join me. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach and wished I had never been so stupid as to venture down the chute. If I had been dreading stepping up for every battle before, now that I knew where those defeated ended up, I was nothing short of petrified. I couldn't bear to watch another opponent fall into oblivion, only to land seconds later and be trapped for god knows how long. But what plagued me most was the thought of being stuck down there myself. I had escaped through the bars the last time, but my getting caught proved that there were eyes everywhere in this building. Not only that, but escaping again would prove futile, seeing as the only door leading to higher ground was locked at all times with a number combination.

Despite the trauma, I was forced by my voice of reason to take my steps towards the dish and face my next, and final, opponent. This one filled me with nerves at the sight of him; unlike most of the other opponents I'd faced, he looked strong. I'd doubted my abilities from the moment I laid eyes on him, and yet my doubtful estimation was proven incorrect when about ten minutes later I found I had defeated him. It was the longest beyblade battle of my life, and though I had witnessed far longer ones in the past, ten minutes can seem an eternity when another day of living is on the line.

Suddenly, the boy before me didn't look so strong anymore. His face became ashen and a sickly yellow colour, and he began to murmur in Russian under his breath. So many other opponents had gone this way. I knew the routine so well it plagued me. Any second now the floor would open up again, this strong boy who might have had such a promising future ahead of him would be doomed to the fate of the cells below. Just like the rest of them…

My better judgement had no time to stop me. The guard behind me proclaimed 'victory' in a robotic voice, and I took off. In an instant I was on the other end of the dish, frantically pulling my opponent from the opening to the chute. It was a great offence to leave your spot at the arena, and punishable by any means, but I didn't care. He tried to remain where he was, but only a mere second before the floor opened up, I had dragged him to safety. By this time we had both been seized by several of the guards, who couldn't care less about how brutal they were in their actions.

He was roughly jerked away from me, and finally I found the obstinate voice I thought I'd lost long ago; the voice that spoke out without much thought, the voice that knew what was right and wrong, and the voice which had temporarily been dormant. 'Leave him alone!' I cried out hoarsely, desperately flailing to get out of the firm grip I was being held in.

They began to drag the boy away. Causing a terrible scene and being humiliated in front of every other student, he said nothing. He allowed himself to be pulled away, head hanging and strong arms falling limply at his sides. I wouldn't let anything go 'Where are you taking him?! You can't keep doing this, he doesn't deser-!'

Before I could finish my outburst, my speech was impaired with a forceful blow to the solar plexus. I doubled over with the pain, feeling the blood rush to my head and the tears form in the corners of my eyes. I tried to keep them back and regain my strength. I waited for somebody to speak out for me; of course, nobody did.

The pain didn't end there. I was forced from the room so as not to cause any more trouble, escorted by four guards who all had a firm grip on my arms. I was still doubled over and so my arms hang above my head as I dragged my feet behind me. I must have looked a pitiful sight. I was taken into another room and the door was slammed behind me. When the guards let me go, I bent forwards and rested my hands on my knees, waiting for the inevitable punishment to begin.

I had been lucky with the guard earlier on; this time nobody held back. I was met by four different fists and boots in some of the most painful places imaginable. By the time they stood back a little I was seeing red. They'd reduced me to a withering figure, curled up on the ice cold floor, wallowing in their own blood. The first blow was still causing me pain, I was sure my nose was broken, my lip had been split and my eye was bruised to the point I could barely open it. When they backed off I didn't move, partly from pain and fear, mainly because I knew there was more to come. I was roughly picked up and literally thrown against the wall as though I were light as a small animal. A poor and defenceless animal. I winced at the contact and slid to the floor, but still I didn't cry; perhaps my tear ducts were impaired from the bruising.

'The Leader is on his way,' the burly guard nearest to me stated. 'He has his own ways of dealing with people like you'. They didn't leave me alone, but they stood well back in all four corners of the square room. But for those few seconds in limbo, instead of being relieved at the end of the torment, I was shaking with terror at what would come next. The dreadful aspect was not knowing. This was the way the abbey controlled it's students, worked their way into their minds; they scared them with the concept of the unknown. The vulnerability was almost painful in itself.

I heard the footsteps before I thought to raise my head and open up my eyes. I heard the door being unlocked and pushed open, and the rustle of clothing as the guards bowed their heads respectively to the man who had just entered. The leader said nothing but I heard his boots grow louder as they walked the concrete floor towards where I lay still.

'Do with him what you please,' the guard instructed as the Leader paused somewhere nearby. I still didn't move, or make any conscious effort to. I couldn't find a single body part on my person that wasn't aching or stinging. Quite aware that every breath could be one of my last, I just waited for the punishment I knew was coming.

'Stand and face our Leader, boy!' another guard spat, and roughly hoisted me to my feet. Finally able to find the strength to lift my head, I opened my eyes and looked up in the direction of the man about to punish me; the great mystery who had never before been seen by a student who managed to tell the tale. Still hanging limply against the stiff arms of the guard holding me up, my eyes focussed and I took a defining glance at our Leader.

For the second time that day, my heart stopped. An involuntary shiver ran through me and my tired mouth fell open. Nothing could have prepared me for the surprise I had ahead; the very last person I'd have expected to see. For a couple of seconds, I even doubted my own sight; feared I was delusional or even worse, about to die. Similar bizarre ideas flooded my mind and I simply couldn't accept that it were real. Surely, it was not possible…

For a few moments silence reigned, and I gaped stupidly up at him. Gazing through eyes that had lately seen real terror, blinking through the red of my own blood, I found myself undoubtedly looking into the cold and familiar face of my old friend, Kai Hiwatari.


(A/N): Okay, so, that was predictable! :P Angel Sakura x you were right about your assumption, and I guess most other people would have guessed it aswell! :D

Right, this was a defining chapter; a turning point in the story (one of many, mind you). From here onwards, the fic is officially more interesting!! –celebrates- Yay!

When am I updating, you ask? Well, it will have to be in September seeing as I'll be in England from next week onwards (XD!XD!XD!XD!!) and so won't have much of a chance to update. However, guess what! On the plane, I'm taking with me a notebook and a pencil. I'm going to spend my ten hour flight back home trying to write the next chapter, isn't that cool? If not, well I'll probably end up writing something worthwhile anyway…

One more thing, can someone please explain to me how to respond to reviews? :S Because I'm an idiot and can't seem to figure it out...heheh...

I can't thank you enough for all the support I get even though I'm convinced my writing is getting worse :P Please do keep reviewing, and be sure to check out my AU A Golden Age, which will be uploaded in about a week's time! That's my new project and I'm very excited about it, but I'll need some reviews of course :D.

So until next time, I love you all and I will be back, just hang tight and enjoy yourselves until September :D