Longer author's note, since I've been away for so long.

First and foremost: for anyone new to my stories (which seems to be quite a few of you), know that I generally update once or twice a year. For older readers, sorry for the unnecessary reminder; know that it's in response to semi-panicked inbox messages and/or reviews, asking me to update under the assumption I've left the fandom. I haven't, because I've never been completely in it (HA! That's what she said). Think about it- if you gave Ray, Kai, Tala, and Brooklyn different names, this would be a completely original story. It's not in the Beyblade universe whatsoever, so I can't get irritated by the rules of the fandom and quit in a huff. Don't worry- I'll keep writing this until I feel it's finished*.

Secondly: The reason why updates have been so laggy and slow is because I had to get a lot of the clues and establishing the characters and their personalities and other boring stuff out of the way before I could get to the exciting part. Having said that, please review; I'd actually like to know whether or not you like this change in the plot, because if most of you do, I'd be a lot more willing to sit down write more often. This is what I was waiting for, and it feels borderline Godly to finally be putting to paper what I've always wanted to write.

FINALLY: Pretty serious chapter, very few jokes. Sorry folks; had to get things moving.

The One Where He Learns the Truth

"Where the hell were you, Kon? It's darker than Satan's stool sample out there."

I lock the front door behind me.

"What's wrong?" Tala continues, his voice distant. "Cat got your tongue?"

There is something wrong with my fingers, because they won't let go of the door handle. There is something wrong with my legs, because they won't turn around to face my fears. There is something wrong with my head, because it's won't shut up so I can hear myself think. There is something wrong with reality, because it won't level itself, no matter how many times it gets turned upside down.

"He can't have his own tongue," Someone retorts. Tala snorts. My hand clenches tighter on the handle when I try to move it away.

Has there really been something so sinister underneath it all that even my damn body knows? Was I too stupid to see it all, or too smart? Is Brooklyn overreacting, or am I under-reacting? Is pure terror not enough- should I be running?

Okay, relax, Kon. Before you make any rash decisions -like kicking the door in and screaming incoherent tribal calls as you leave Kai and Tala in a state that can only be described as ? ? ? ? ?- think rationally, for once in your damn life. Everything Brooklyn pointed out was one hundred percent true- if it wasn't, I wouldn't be reacting in innate fear like I am now. But could everything -the suspiciousness behind Tala's intent on keeping me here, how easily I got into one of the most well protected countries in the world, the way I got my job- just be one hell of a coincidence? I mean, they happen all the time- even biological psychology proves it. It's called apophenia- that's how common it is. In science, when a phenomenon is reoccurring, it's eventually studied and given a scientific measure and name to compliment. Apophenia -coincidences- have. It's got to be real and rational and palpable if it's a part of the one thing I know how to do right, hasn't it?

Something grabs my shoulder. I jolt around, digging my claws into the grooves in the solid oak door behind me.

"What in God's name is wrong with you this time, Kon?" Tala asks with familiarity, like I'm a buddy. Like I'm a friend- even though we're not. "You're always in some sort of mood. Feel free to spill your rice-filled guts."

I stare at him, not knowing where to start. Not knowing when or how or even if I should start.

Annoyed at my response (or lack of), Tala rolls his eyes. He lifts his hand, curves his middle finger downwards and his thumb upwards until they meet. Moving so swiftly that I don't even fully catch the motion, he places his looped fingers on the center of my forehead. Then, he flicks me.

"Snap the hell out of it. What- did Brooklyn break your delicate 19-year-old heart?" He crosses his arms over his chest, tilts his head, and his blue eyes shine in the light. For a fleeting second, I think he frowns. "From what you have told me, he's not the brightest marble in the batch, that moron. It's good- you cut your losses before you got in too deep."

And then, I finally make the connection. The one thing that makes sense- that nothing makes sense, except for one thing: even though they haven't met each other, Tala and Brooklyn hate each other**.

"How..."

Tala's brow furrows at my response, and he blinks as if I'm the one who has something to explain. As if I'm the one that's torturing him. As if I'm the one who's making him fear for his own life. As if I'm as worthless as a penny. As if I don't have emotions or a need for stability, friendship, empathy, and love.

He blinks like he's the one who can't trust anyone anymore.

I stand up straight, facing Tala, no longer clinging to the door. My eyes clear as the purest glass and my voice as solid as the oak behind me, I smile naturally. Tala's guard drops, along with his crossed arms. It's amazing what self-perseverance does to you.

"How do you know Brooklyn, Tala?" I ask, feigning polite interest.

"We've been over this, Kon; I don't." He responds, rolling his eyes, again. "Now stop your ridiculous puttering and get to the kitchen. Show me how to make sticky rice, and properly this time. Your handwriting is as readable as the Twilight series. It says something about mil-"

He cuts short as I monstrously yank his forearm, clawing, hoping it tears out of the socket. Tala squeaks, too surprised to form a coherent response.

"How do you know Brooklyn, Tala?" I shout, livid.

Thrown against the door, the back of my head smashing against the solid wood, that Someone shouts something unintelligible from far away, and all I cling to is what I know. And what I know is that your brain isn't drilled to your skull- it floats in this jelly-like fluid. So when you hit the back of your head, your floating brain is catapulted forward and the lobe directly beneath your forehead -the forebrain- is damaged, not the back of it. And your forebrain holds your memories- it keeps a lock on everything that makes you who you are. When it's hit hard enough, the lock cracks, and it all slips away.

And I think, maybe that isn't so bad.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Kon?" Tala growls, rubbing his arm with his red hand.

And I think, maybe I want to forget.

"He knows?" Someone speculates, having popped out of no where with his hips leaning against the front foyer's inner doorway.

And I think, maybe I need to forget.

I push myself off the door as efficiently as someone without brain damage would, and quietly curse my sturdy skull.

"Yeah," I confirm. The one time where the shaky lie that clearly gives away my innocence would save my dumbass instead of grilling; the one time it would come in handy, my voice comes out as confident as Kanye West. "I know."

That Someone -my Someone, the only Someone I want to call The One- closes the distance between us by binding his arms around my neck with dangerous force, taking me down in an expertly delivered restraint. My neck cracks, and I wish I had taken that first year course in neurology so I would know whether or not to be concerned. Tala barks something at Kai, my Someone, and he grips me tighter. I don't know if I should be turned on or terrified. Working together, Tala sits on my legs, grabs my wrists, lifts them over my head as I try to claw and kick at anything within reach. Kai's forearm comes around my arms and covers my eyes, effectively caging my upper half. To top it all off (literally and figuratively), metal bangles click closed around my wrists, restraining me as I try to pry my arms apart. They're ice cold.

In contrast, hot breath grazes my ear.

"Listen up, Kon," Tala says so calmly that you'd think we were at a day spa. "So Bogdan told you everything."

I don't know who Bogdan is, but for some reason I hope he's burning in the deep pits of hell and that I can chuck lumps of Satan's turd at him when I get there, which, at this rate, may be sooner than later.

"Fucking fantastic. Great for the both of you. I want you to know something before you jump to any..." Tala pauses, and I hear his all too familiar snort.

Kai's forearms are covering my eyes, so I imagine Tala smirking and running his fingers through his fire red bangs, because that's what he always does after he snorts. I can also imagine him waking up in the morning with his hair in a pony tail and glasses perched on his nose, and I can imagine him sitting on my bed, giving me abusive advice as he inspects the moulding in the ceiling. I can imagine him speaking throaty Russian with Someone. I can imagine the nostalgic look on his face when he talks about his home land, and the grimace on his face when we talk about mine. I can imagine him in a suit and can admit that he cleans up good, even though I don't want to. I can imagine his horrified face after he saw the puke in that brand new can of paint, that dramatic asshole. And I can imagine the quiet support he gave when I was just about ready to throw myself onto an open hearth; it radiated, just enough, when I needed it.

Of all the things I can imagine Tala doing, this was not one of them.

"...rash conclusions." He continues, but I don't know if he said anything in between. "Because it will not only end badly for us, but you as well. No witness protection program is protection enough from me. Do you understand?"

Just kidding.

"Is the kid fucking deaf?" Kai asks when I don't respond, choking off my airway. "Did you hear him, asshole? Huh?"

I can see it, frame by frame. Just look.

"Loosen your damn grip. We don't get the..." Tala trails off, slowly transitioning into Russian. Kai's arms do as Tala demanded, and my breathing slowly transitions from choking into haggard breathing.

With Kai still keeping strict guard on me, Tala disappears into the kitchen, and comes back with a roll of paper towel. Even though it's nothing compared to Kai's skin, Tala is pretty light himself. So the crimson red claw marks - the ones I left during my screaming fit- stand out more dramatically then they should. He blots at them, stops, looks at me, glares, then throws the paper towel aside.

And that is when it hits me- like a car that couldn't skid to a stop fast enough, that one neuron I have left flashes the image of a bloodied handkerchief in the back seat of Kai's car. That hankerchief that reminded me how beat up Kai had looked at the time. That handkerchief that Tala had told me to ask Kai about, which I never did.

I look up at the redhead, taken aback.

"Were... you trying to warn me?"

"Incoherent rambling. That's lovely," Tala responds, still examining his arm. "You're faster than you look, Kon."

Kai chuckles, says something in Vodkatongue, and Tala's eyes narrow.

"The... remember when I was going on a date with Brooklyn and-"

"I've told you this before, Kon," Tala cuts me short. He's nearly roaring. "Don't tell me about your personal, revolting drivel; I am not your friend. Do you understand me?"

"So you were trying to warn me," I conclude, remembering how that had bothered me so much. Did he want me to ask Kai about the bloody cloth because it would have led to me figuring out who these two really are? Was making it clear that he wasn't my friend Tala's way of telling me to run as fast as I could from this place and never look back?

Before I can continue on this hot streak of coherent and fluid thinking that rarely (see: never) comes to me, I find my face being squashed like an orange about to be juiced. Tala digs his nails into my cheeks, and I hiss.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Kon?" He asks, sounds almost all angry and a touch curious.

"That bloody hankerchief- Bloth. And you told me we weren't friends... were you trying to help me? Give me little nudges to get the hell out of here before I discovered... whatever the fuck this is?" I ask, something in my throat about to give.

I don't know why -he's insulted both me and Brooklyn, thrown me against a solid wood door, threatened me, and nearly peeled my face off- but for some reason, even the thought of Tala trying to help me; I'm touched.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Tala snaps, trying to pull together the flesh covering the hallows below my cheek bones. My mouth is prodded open, and he presses harder.

"Buh remembah- I thaw the bwoody coth in Kai'th van an you thold me tho athk him about eh?" I manage around Tala's fierce grip.

At the sound of his name, Kai asks, "What'd he say?"

Tala's eyes widen a bit, and his grip loosens by a fraction.

"An I athked you about you jhob an you bruthed me ahff an thaid weir not fweinds?" I continued, my jaw aching. Who knew this could hurt so fucking much?

"We are not friends," he affirms, but he doesn't sound confident- he murmurs it. He's far away, staring at the carpeted floor, his hold on my face slowly loosening.

"Tala, what the fuck is he saying?"

His gaze moves from the floor to my eyes. "You're lying. Why would I say that shit to you, Kon? Why the fuck would I tell you to ask Kai about the bloody tissue, huh? That would only help you figure shit out when I don't give a damn about you. I'm using you."

Unless he was using me as a personal rice-cooker turner oner, he did a pretty shit job of utilizing me in any other way. Besides lazing around the house and doing a half ass job at work, I haven't done anything in the five months I've been here.

From behind me, Kai is incredulous.

"You told him to do that?" Kai asks, insulted. "Why the fuck- after everything we did to keep who we are a secret?"

"If I fucking did -which I didn't- you probably did something fucking stupid to provoke me, vam kusok derma!"

The reason I caught those last three Russian words is because I hear Tala grumble it all the time when he's angry. I don't know what it means, but I'm pretty sure it's not in any Russian etiquette books because Kai's left my side to yell into Tala's face.

"Just because you're my boss doesn't mean you shouldn't fucking respect me," Kai seethes, staring into Tala's icy, unmoving eyes. "After all the shit we've been through together, you were the last person I fucking expected that from."

"You're not the only one," I whisper, but neither of them hear.

Tala retorts calmly in Russian, to which Kai responds to by becoming redder than Tala's head and bellows something in response. Tala does the same until a full screaming match starts. They seem distracted, so I start pulling apart my wrists in hard, jerky motions, trying to break the thick chain holding the handcuffs together. I keep doing this even though I know it's pointless; if I do somehow get free, what'll I do after that? Go to the police? I'm an illegal immigrant for Christ's sake. If they lose, so do I. I can't go to Brooklyn because... I can't explain it, but now I have a suspicious feeling about him, too. I'm too afraid to go to the border, I have no means of getting there, and now that I think about it, if I stood up Kai would probably football tackle me back down. And, wait- who the hell is Bogdan?

"Shto- wait. Wait a fucking minute," Tala cuts himself off abruptly, going from loud and Russian to quiet and English in a heart beat. "'Whatever the fuck this is?'"

"You're fucking nuts, just like the fucking kid!" Kai yells, about to shove him into the wall when Tala grabs him by the wrists, stopping him short.

"Kon," Tala growls. "What the fuck do you mean buy 'whatever the fuck this is?'"

Kai stops his tirade just as abruptly as Tala did, staring at me his eyes wide and his lips parted in surprise. "Well?" he asks, calm as a Hindu cow.

"Uh," I respond intelligently. I had that said before, but I'm afraid responding honestly will cost me a body part. "What's the big deal?"

"You said you knew," Tala says, growling the last word. "You said you knew everything- who we are, what we are, what we do. Were you lying, Kon?"

Oh, shit.

"Well," I retort, my voice as high as Bob Marley. "N-no! I'm telling the truth!"

Groaning just as dramatically as I would have expected, Tala fists his hair. I should have known a hell of a lot better than that- Tala sees through my lies as clearly as you'd see through a clean window.

"The damn bastard is making this up! He doesn't know shit!" He accuses, staring daggers into my eyes like this was all some sort of personal attack on him. "Why did you make shit up, Kon? Do you know what you've done?"

"Fuck you!" I counter, but it sounds part question and part anger instead of the all outrage I was aiming for. I try to get up so that they stop looking down at me but standing upright more impossible than figuring out what the fuck is going on when your hands are restrained.

"I'm gonna sock this fucking kid," Kai grunts, eyes clenched as he rubs his eyes too roughly for it to be comfortable.

"It's your fucking fault! Did you think I wouldn't notice all this eventually? That you're paying my board and got me a job and..." I hesitate, genuinely not sure if this next part is Tala's doing or just plain luck. "...and helped me hop the border? You brought this on yourself, because you thought I was stupid enough not to notice, so fuck you and fuck the Soviet air missile you rode in this country on, you fucking... terrorists!"

Both of their faces light up like Christmas trees, staring at me, dumbfounded.

"He knows!" Kai exclaims, pointing a slender finger at me. "Or..." Some more Russian, before he turns to Tala. "Does he? I don't even fucking know anymore."

Forgive me- it's been a long day, so it takes a second before an oversized gavel with the words 'WELL DUH' printed on it bangs itself onto my head.

"You're terrorists?" I screech, the words sounding ill fitting in the open air. "I was just speaking figuratively!"

"He kind of knows," Tala concludes, tilting his head, like he's looking at me for the first time. He turns to Kai. "Bogdan's a fucking dead man. I'm serious- put him on Schrologchka."

Kai looks at me, too, like he's never seen me in his entire life- curiously, with this little light in his red eyes. I'm only mentioning this because ceither of them are yelling, screaming, their arms aren't crossed anymore, they aren't restraining and/or trying to rip my face off, and they're not looking at me with eagle eyes- those eyes that look like they're about to hunt me down, even though they were only minutes ago. I can't explain it properly, but it's like some of the hostility is gone- like someone twisted a nozzle and drained it from the room.

Tala's shoulders finally, finally relax. They were tense since the second I attacked him until now, and I'm not sure if this a good thing or a mind game.

"But now you know everything's not what it seems to be."

Tala's surprisingly understanding tone causes me to watch him as he runs his hands through his crimson red hair, making it stick up in every direction. He stops, leans against the front door, and looks up at the ceiling, analyzing the moulding in the ceiling. You know, I used to think he did this because he was a meticulous renovation loving asshole, but now I see he just does it when he's thinking.

"Where do we go from here?" Kai asks, looking at me instead of Tala.

Tala sighs, and starts rubbing his temples. "The living room."

"That's not what I mean-"

"Take him to the living room, and tell him what we've been planning. It'll be a few months ahead of schedule, but we can work with it." Tala decides, and a weight settles itself in the tiny foyer. I can't help but feel a big decision's been made; so big that even the room knows it.

"Fine," Kai says as he walks behind me. He grabs onto the back of my arms. "Get up."

I do as told, and he pulls me up so I don't fall over. Again, despite all the psycotic shit that just happened, I'm touched. "What if I don't want to know what's going on?"

"Then we kill you, wrap you in a carpet, and toss you in that lovely little ghetto where I found you," Tala responds easily, smiling.

I quietly poop myself as I'm lead to the living room by Kai, with Tala following close by. They sit me on the big couch I always loved to nap on and pull up two of the dining room chairs, placing in front of me. While they do, I stare at the handcuffs, wondering where they got this from and who they are. I wonder if Tala's name is really Tala and if Kai's name is really Kai and why, of all people, this is happening to a haply nineteen year old Canadian kid that just wanted his parents to love him.

I'm jolted out of my thoughts by the feeling of stares. I look up, and the Problems -if only I knew how problematic they would become for me when I nicknamed them that- have settled in their seats.

There is a quiet, almost awkward silence- the one that always settles when the three of us are together. It's funny that even though everything's different, some things never change.

"Where to even begin..." Tala starts, his eyes roaming up and down me. "I suppose at the beginning."

"What if he doesn't agree?" Kai suddenly asks, staring at his feet. Does Kai have some sort of mental problem? Wish I had taken that third year course in abnormal psychology- it's not normal to go from seething to meek in a matter or minutes, is it?

"We deal with it when we get there," Tala says, calm and cool as (almost) always.

He leans over, rests his elbows on his knees, and bunches his hands together into one big fist, resting his chin on it. "Do you remember the day we met, Ray?"

That's the first time he's ever called me Ray.

"No," I say breathlessly, genuinely surprised at Tala's unaggressive demeanour.

"Well, let me remind you..."

Cliffhangin' like a motherfucker! U mad? U mad bro?

Read and review, please.

In text asterisks:

*Correlation will probably be around 20-25 chapters.

**Shout out to Pixxy. Dust, who caught this (well, half) last chapter! It's really nice to find people picking up the littles clues instead of going "Lewl das weird" and moving on.