Disclaimer: I don't own beyblade. However, I do own my plot line and my oc. Other than that, I've got nothing.

A note: this chapter makes some references to the Roman Catholic faith. That's my religion, and I'm not forcing anything on anyone, but there is a priest involved. It kind of smooths out the story line.

Chapter Twelve

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She shut her eyes for a moment. Contemplating.

Don't second guess.

She nodded. 'I won't,' she telepathically responded, a moment later. She extended the blade forward, attached to its launcher of black and silver.

The man gazing at the center of the dish didn't bother to look up. "Three, two, one-" She tightened her grip on the launcher, knuckles turning white in her paranoia- "Let it rip!" He said it for her. She wouldn't say it at all.

You say it only for her, don't you?

She nodded. A moment later, following fluid actions, the black and green blade was in the dish, the sound of each revolution being the solitary rhythm in the room. She sighed a moment later, feeling the warmth spread to her fingertips. 'This feels right,' she communicated.

Because you have her blessing-

'Because we both consent to this. We're more alike than we've thought.'

The man who had told her to begin looked up at her, piercing eyes and blonde hair askew. "Release the beast!"

She closed her eyes, which had opened previously. 'Let's just get this over with,' she said, trying hard to concentrate.

A bright light enclosed her mind, one of a light, but bright color. I've got you, just call the attack and this will end.

'You sure?'

Positive.

"Black Dranzer!" She called, and the beast arose from it's bit, calling out in a ferocious cry. 'Nice touch,' Zoe thought quietly. She received a smart answer, and stood menacingly across from the machine that was about to send about twenty beyblades at her. Just for the first wave. "Tempest Dreams!" A large curtain of black came down and overcame the room. Within a moment's notice, the black phoenix descended upon the machine and the uproar of beyblades that spewed from it. "Destroy them!" She called. A hauntingly beautiful cry descended upon them next, and Zoe called Black Dranzer back.

The black phoenix spiraled around her protectively, as a lioness would her cub. Are you alright?

A smile was provoked on Zoe's lips, thanks to the beast's caring nature. She nodded. 'Fine. You get stronger each time, don't you?'

The phoenix didn't get time to answer that, as the man in the room jumped up and rushed over to her. "Do you know that each time you launch that beast is ten times more powerful than the last? Kai couldn't even come close to this type of power. Voltaire will be very pleased. Boris has trained you well."

She spit at the ground, eyes hard. "Of course he has. He has no other students to worry about. They don't have her," She said, her thumb toward the beast. The man tried to come closer, but the phoenix wouldn't have it and released a sharp warning cry.

"Tell her to go to her bit."

"And if I don't?" There was a glint in her eye, one that both the bit beast and the man caught onto. Zoe was deadly these days, as Voltaire had commanded. She'd kill no one.

But he didn't know that.

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After a certain blonde was sent screaming- like a girl- from the training quarters, and the laughter ceased, Zoe sat down on the edge of the dish, her feet dangling in it.

'I don't think I've ever told you this, but thank you, Black.'

The teen found herself being nuzzled by the flaming bird, but the flames didn't spread, and she didn't feel like it was hot. We're partners, this is what we do.

She wrapped her arms around the phoenix's neck, salty, uncontrolled tears following the trail of fire down its body. 'You are more than I deserve.'

I think it was you who said that we are indeed alike.

Moments later, after laughter followed instead of tears, Zoe recalled her phoenix and walked from the training room, hardening up her appearance for sake of her boss. She knocked on the door to his office, receiving a curt reply.

When the door was opened for her by the secretary, she was met with the malicious- and happy- faces of Boris Balkov and Voltaire Hiwitari.

"You're doing exceptionally well," Voltaire said calmly. "Considering the circumstances, you've adapted rather well."

She looked at him with a dark glare, Black Dranzer's warmth surging through her, though, despite all of it, she felt dangerously cold. "Ah, well, when you have nothing left, you don't really have much of a choice, now do you?" She asked curtly.

"Now, now," Voltaire said. "Disobedience is what got you in here in the first place. Boris and I have given you a full training, and done a great deal for you. You are doing wonders with that blade."

Boris cut in. "Not even Kai could've done the things you've done with her. That's why we have decided to give you a little assignment. This one, however, may be a little more... long term." A laugh erupted in his throat and Voltaire smirked accordingly. "You see, there is a tournament coming up that I would like you to participate in. It's nothing official, but we believe you're best left to your own rules, are you not?"

"So it would seem." Running a hand through her hair she looked at him and nodded, eyes flickering in the dim light. "Tell me what to do."

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Mr. Dickenson looked around the room. "This competition is purely for fun. I don't want you all to freak out about going against each other, no one will be winning or gaining any titles, just a little trophy for your collection and a purse."

"And for the guys?" Tyson asked. "I'm sure when I win, I won't want any purse," He said, with a laugh.

Hilary smiled. "He'll give it to me."

"No, I want a real prize!" Tyson exclaimed. "Money or something."

A unanimous 'Oh, Tyson,' sigh resounded through the room. They shook their heads and Max looked at his friend with a tired smile. "A 'purse' is a prize of money. Not the bag Hilary carries around her mallot and make-up in."

"I always wondered how she fit that damned contraption in there," Daichi said, with an exasperated sigh.

Hilary smirked. "I'll take it out and use it, and then I'll show you."

Daichi backed away and Tyson kicked the purse away from her secretively. Daichi thanked him for it. Perhaps their partnership was a good idea. "So," Mr. Dickenson continued, picking up a huge stack of papers, "Who's in?"

Everyone's hands shot up, except Emily and Kenny's. They both agreed previously only to collect data. Kai didn't hold up a hand either, nor was he in the room. He had come in earlier and declined the offer, stating that he was going to Russia with Tala. The group had decided it would be for the best. He had been good the past few years, but some of the spark was gone from his routine. They knew why and they wouldn't dare ask him about it, without fear of being hit with something glass or heavy. Or quite possibly both.

Paperwork was passed around the room and the group quickly set to filling it out. They needed something to take their mind off things.

A no-pressure competition would work perfectly.

Or it would attract Zoe, and they'd have to call Kai. Either way, it was a step forward.

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Tala broke through the crowd at the airport. Kai's phone call a few hours prior had surprised him. If he was coming back, they were going to get the team together. And God only knew what chaos would ensue beyond this.

A few old men shook shaking middle fingers at him, a few mothers made angered comments to jumpy husbands about teenagers, and a few children, surprised to see their hero, tried to tackle him to get an autograph, causing the mothers to be mad at both him for not paying them attention, and their children for jumping at a celebrity. He scoffed. Talent and looks made him so popular he wished he could just die. Then he'd never have to worry about it again.

He looked toward the luggage rack, spotting his friend flexing his muscles subconsciously after getting his bag off of the conveyor belt. The slate haired individual turned around, catching a glimpse of Tala, and nodded a greeting, to which he recieved one in return.

"Hey," Tala said, not bothering to continue as he slung a second bag over his shoulders. Considering the circumstances, he wouldn't mind helping the champion with his bags, since the other boy carried two, and he only had one. Otherwise, he'd be damed if he'd be made the pack-mule.

"Hi." Kai's eyes were a vivid lilac color, with just a few whisps of grey in them. Overall, Tala had to admit that recently, they had become much more purple than grey. Perhaps it was the emotional ordeals that caused it.

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Zoe ran a hand through her hair, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply. She opened them again, staring out at the figid waters. From where she sat, she could see the entire Buffalo skyline, and if she squinted, she could see the Peace Bridge, combining the United States with Canada, via the Niagara River. She wondered if she jumped in the water and swam far enough out, if the current would send her to the Niagara River, and then, eventually over the falls. She figured it was a possibility, but not one she'd try unless she was serious about a potential suicide attempt.

The sun was setting to her left, and to her right, the darkness was beginning to overpower. The lake looked like a deep cerulean blue, but faded into a brilliant tropical pink color, from the orange sun. The sky in the middle was purple, and a few stars were beginning to make themselves visible. The moon was nowhere to be seen, and it bothered her just a little. Within a few moments, the sun slipped off the viewing plane, and Lake Erie's surface began to fade back into a blue, then into the purple and black hue it seemed to take on at night. The nearby city was lit up like a Christmas Tree, many lights being red and green, and the ones that were neither of these colors were the white gold color of plain lights, strung around buildings as if they were a part of a holiday display.

A string of cold air rushed by her, and she pulled the coat up against her tightly, bringing her legs underneath it's feather down padding. She inhaled this breeze, and smelled the crisp scent of snow. It would be falling soon, she supposed, as the western direction she faced began to extend dark cascades of clouds into her field of view. The stars would be blotted out soon, she figured, so she closed her eyes and made a wish, something trivial, but childlike all the same.

She had gone to church yesterday; something she had done only once in her lifetime prior. This time, however, it was of her own accord. It scared her to death, all the people looking at her, dressed in clothes that someone who was obviously a beyblade did not dress in. The entire ordeal seemed other-worldly, in a way, and the story the priest told seemed to touch her in a way. It related to her life, and it scared her. Perhaps that was what it was for: to get you back on your feet.

Really, her parents and Tala had always instilled a belief in God upon her; the Abbey was ideed meant to be a place of God, however it, and potentially she was a lie. Those beliefs had never grown though, as the Abbey's torture was meant to break her of the rulings of anyone other than Boris or Voltaire.

It had been strange though, when mass ended. People were very solemn in the beginning, reciting prayers and words that had burned in their minds since birth. She needed some of that structure though, and it seemed almost comforting, when her neighbor, an elderly woman who had to be more than four times her age extended a hand and said, "Peace be with you."

She had never contemplated peace before. Perhaps that was because it was never there for her. Something had always gone wrong at some point, someone had always interfered with her rest. Even when she had disappeared after the finals a few years ago, she knew that the feeling of unrest would remain with her. Things weren't finished. Perhaps everyone else thought they were, but she knew for a fact somethings would never end unless she personally saw them through.

After the mass, she remained, watching the previously solemn people walk past with bubbling children, smiles on their faces, almost illuminated. Perhaps this was the power of God, she thought, or perhaps it was just the fact that they believed in God, and that gave them somekind of hope. She wasn't really sure. Once the people had almost all filtered out, a few people had knelt back down on padded extensions of the pew in front of her, and said silent prayers. She sat there, not entirely sure of just what to do.

The priest had wordlessly, and completely unbeknownst to her, sat down beside her, a comapassionate look gracing middle aged features. He wasn't more than fifteen years her senior, she figured, but he was dressed in the robes and he had been the man who had led the mass.

She looked at him, after noting his presence. He looked at her with a gentle look, and part of her wished to spill the previous years of torment to him. She opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing.

"If you speak, He will listen," The priest told her. She looked at him as if he was crazy.

"Yeah, if He hears everything, where has He been when I was getting tortured for almost my entire life?"

The priest looked up at the front of the church, above the purple-clothed altar and the candles burning. She followed his view to the stained-glass windows. "He wouldn't give you things you can't handle. Do you know His story?"

She nodded. Tala had told her the story of Jesus Christ, and she was well aware of what he had done. Boris had also relayed the message to the Abbey's inhabitants, as a cover when anyone who wished to inspect the building appeared. The underground training physilities and the back building's contents were secrets from everyone.

"He suffered for us."

"How do you know? You weren't there!"

"I know."

She nodded, surprised that in the midst of her near yelling, that he remained calm. "I've lost so much. How can he know what I can handle. I can't handle the things I've already been through, and now, I've got even more than I initially had!"

The man nodded. The church was nearly empty before he said more. The first Advent candle's flame was the only sound that she could hear, and it's burning was soft, almost silent. She wasn't sure how long she had remained there, gazing around at the statues, the stained glass, or the altar and it's many lit candles before he so much as looked at her. She looked over at him once, but his hands were clasped together, and his eyes were shut. She waited for him to be finished, but by the way he looked, so calm and serene, she wondered how she could attain such a state.

When his eyes opened, she took a deep breath. "Zoe," she said quietly. "Zoe Valkov."

He nodded. If he was thrown by her name, or her relation to Tala, or her career, he didn't show it. Instead, he extended a hand. "Father Paul," he said, and they shook. "If you'd like, I can listen."

She nodded. "It started almost right after I was born..."

By the time she had finished her story, more tears than she thought she possessed had spilled down her cheeks. Father Paul had whipped out a neatly folded stack of tissues, which she took and used. Something about talking with him, uninterupted, and in that place, well, something happened there, and she wasn't quite sure what. She couldn't mask a thing, and if she had tried, she knew he would've known.

He had taken her hand when she had explained her situation with Nitra, with her friends, with Tala, with Kai... with what they did to break her of her will, and of the pact she had made with Black Dranzer, and just about every other ordeal in the trials and tribulations that had accumulated over her nineteen year existance on the planet. He had listened, something not many would. And at the end, he smiled.

"He heard you," was the first thing he said. She nodded.

"I think you're right." She paused, and looked up. "Well, what should I do now?"

"What do you think?" Father asked her. She looked surprised.

Her eyes shut and opened again, dark eyelashes smothering the color of her eyes for the moment. "I have to do something about it."

"You have to start from the beginning."

"But it's over."

"Not in your head," he said gently. "You live your past so many times in your head."

"I've hurt a lot of people, and a lot of people have hurt me."

"Forgive and be forgiven."

She nodded. "I have to let it go, don't I?"

He nodded gravely. "You have to live. Start over. They think they have you figured out, but only you can figure yourself out. He knows you. It's time you know yourself."

Her eyes flickered up on the altar, and the wreath lit with candles. She mouthed words she said only in her mind, and squeezed her hands together hard. "I want to fix things," she said quietly. "They have to change."

"Then change them for the better." She nodded, and looked back at him, a soft, and unusual smile on her face. She didn't typically smile, and he seemed to know that.

She took his hand again and squeezed it. "Thank you Father." He nodded, happy.

"Any time, Zoe." Within a moment, he thrust back his robe's sleeve, and checked his watch. "It's late. Care to join me for something to eat?"

She nodded. "I'd like that."

Dinner had passed almost too fast, and soon, she realized that it was indeed time for her to return back to her hotel, and potentially Voltaire and Boris. She thanked the younger of the church's two priests, receiving a hug and a sincere good luck. He had said that he would pray for her, and she knew he would.

She honestly had no idea where to go, but the priest had thrust a small, worn book into her hands, insisting that she take it. He had said that it was something he had needed, and it would help her. Now, she took it out and looked at it. The pages had golden edges that glimmered, and the top was a brown leather that she knew was genuine. For no other reason than to gain his approval, the girl swore she'd make some kind of difference. She'd just have to figure out where to start.

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She had figured it today that it was because of the day before that Voltaire didn't scare her that much. He had been right in her face, and some how, she wasn't in the least bit afraid of what she was going to be told, or what they were going to do to her.

"I will be leaving in an hour. I have heard that Kai has returned to Moscow with Tala. The rest of them will be entering in a tournament, which I would like you to make a few appearances at. I won't be watching over you, but I assure you, any attempts to change sides will kill you." He came very close to her face. "We have stripped you of your bit beast and broken you of your will, but I know for a fact that your actions are still very much your own. So if you'd like to have control of your actions, I suggest those actions benefit me. Boris and I will be checking in every so often."

She nodded. Her eyes flickered in his direction as he drew out a gun. "What is that for?" She asked, her voice unwavering.

"Protection. You'd be surprised how many people want me because of you and your friends. Well, ex-friends. They'll never take you back now, even though Hiro has indeed changed sides again."

"He's not worth it," she said, a smirk tilting her cherry lips upward. "He won't bother your plans, because he know you'll kill him. The lower profile you have, the better chance you have of aquiring all you desire."

He nodded. "Well, well. You seem to have quite the sneaking sense. I like your idea. Perhaps we should leave his defeat to you, hmm?"

"Alright, though I'd rather face Tyson."

The man laughed. "I don't care who of them you fight, so long as you leave an impression. Bit beasts aren't my concern anymore. You can beat those fools with or without them."

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Alright, there's the chapter. I'm going to update soon, hopefully, with the next chapter. Chappie eleven never wants to upload, but I'm starting thirteen right now.

Until next time, Review!

x3 Distant Storm