I'm back with a proper chapter this time that isn't a weird one-shot prequel even if I did enjoy delving into Mana's backstory. Again, that will be relevant later when Mana factors back into the story. So, here's another late chapter that finally arrived. Hopefully this will prove satisfying. I'm actually going to try a new writing schedule to get around my increased workload so I'm going to try and update this in about two weeks. I know, two weeks! That sounds basically impossible. We'll see how it goes. Look out for that to see if I can keep my promise or not. Also, something that I feel should be pointed out is this: the story originally was written to be a canon story between Metal Fury and Shogun Steel. However, we are WAY off that now. No way is Shogun Steel canon to this. Not to say a different version of those characters don't exist in this world, just that there's no way Shogun Steel could play out the same way with the events of this story happening. Not sure if anyone was keeping track or cared anymore but I thought I'd point it out just in case. Now on to the one review response as per usual.

Royal master: Well…here's the chapter. Probably not the battle you were expecting but there is a fight scene in this chapter. It just doesn't have beyblades is all. Also, glad to hear you enjoyed the little Mana background chapter. While those types of chapters are on the back burner as of now, backstory is something that we will get more of in this season. Character psychology is about to get a lot more important in general.

All right, I think we're ready to go. Hope you all enjoy this chapter, and leave a review if you have any thoughts, comments or criticisms. Thank you all who are still here and reading by the way, I appreciate the support even if it feels like this story should have finished years ago at this point.


Chapter 56: The Truth Hurts

It was official.

Dr. Obadiah Ziggurat was an idiot. At the very least he was a sloppy excuse for a supervillain.

Was the word a bit hyperbolic in this context? Sure, but old Obadiah was playing the part so much that it was difficult not to view him in such a light. He was parading around in something that looked like an adult Halloween costume, down to the flourishing cape and mask. Did he think this was a Saturday morning cartoon or something equally as silly and childish? Did he actually enjoy the bizarre get-up, was that what this was?

Then again, his two disciples or whatever they liked to call themselves had similarly been into the theatrics so maybe they were all just getting into the whole thing way too much. Or they had anyway, he was fairly confident at least two of them were dead now.

And yet nothing of value was lost amusingly. The thought admittedly brought a smile to his face, Athena and Hermes had always been low priorities for them and so he could care very little that they were now likely deceased. Viper was a bit more of a unknown because of the circumstances involved when he joined with Ziggurat but it all mattered very little in the end. They weren't threats or important enough to consider focusing on to any real extent, they were simply extensions of Ziggurat's own plans. Just as they were expandable to Ziggurat, so too were they expandable to them.

Pawns are good for one thing and one thing only, he thought grimly.

Heckler watched as Ziggurat eyed him wearily, clearly not sure what to make of this newest development. Heckler couldn't blame him, he'd been five steps ahead of Ziggurat for most of the year after all, and it was a difficult pill to swallow when you realised you weren't actually at the top of your respective food chain. Complacent rulers were lazy rulers; and hubris would always bread failure. To Ziggurat, Heckler was a complete unknown and anyone with a lick of sense knew a wild card was perhaps the most dangerous foe you could possibly come up against.

Heckler watched closely as the older man shifted his footing slightly, taking a more defensive stance while his hands noticeably tensed slightly. The old fool lacked subtly, obviously prepared to attack if he felt necessary but clearly lacking the experience to hide his intentions. It was sloppy at best and insulting at worst, a real fighter with actual skill and experience would not make such a blunder. Though he supposed Ziggurat assumed he could simply brute force his way through any encounter with his powers. Why would anyone need technique and strategy when you had magical powers? Ugh…such a disappointment this man was.

From renowned scientists to whack-job in a cape…

"Love what you've done with the place," Heckler mused loudly, making a show of placing his hands in his pockets as he pretend to be in awe of their surroundings. The black monolith was admittedly impressive to an extent, even if it looked a bit too much like a budging, black, phallic symbol more than anything else in his humble opinion. Still, the way energy flowed through it and swirled around its pointed top was a clear display of immense power and sorcery. This very structure was capable of capturing souls, a process that eluded them for so long but was now finally within their grasp. It wouldn't be simple to recreate but the possibility was there now, another step in the right direction.

If nothing else, this all proved Ziggurat had not spent his time in exile doing nothing, he had learned and grown in ways none would have predicted before the whole Spiral Force debacle. For all of his failures he still had some levels of success, the monoliths and the power they wielded were no simple feat and were proof of his genius to at least some extent. He had proven a useful pawn in the end. Mr. Fears would be pleased by all the new data they'd collect.

"Why are you here?" Ziggurat asked suddenly, taking one threatening step forward as if his mere presence would frighten Heckler. Ziggurat was underestimating him, not deeming him any real sort of danger despite his show of confidence and even him simply being there. Again, to be fair, Ziggurat probably just assumed no one could take him because he'd already decided he was top dog. But that was where the scientist always tripped over himself – he assumed he was the smartest man in the room at all times. Overconfidence was always one's undoing, the assumption one was invincible would always lead to an unfortunate end and Ziggurat was clearly no exception.

Tomohiro Heckler on the other hand did not get to his position by assuming he had every fight won before it even begun. Arrogance really was a surefire way to die a humiliating death. He'd never allow himself to fall into such a trap. Ziggurat on the other hand might as well rename himself Icarus at this point.

""You're looking spry, old friend," he offered with enough fake niceness to contaminate the air. "Good to see old age hasn't yet hit you. You'd be pushing, what? Fifty perhaps? I suppose your position does offer you certain perks though, am I right? Beyond…capes I mean."

"How do you know who I am?" Ziggurat barked back at him, clearly not up for playing games of any sort. Too bad for him then, that was all the old doctor was going to get tonight. Probably a beating or two as well if things went as he assumed they would. It was also just way too much fun watching him desperately try to fit all the pieces together. He made it all too easy. Intellectuals were so easy to string along because they simply couldn't fathom the idea they could ever be outsmarted or outplayed.

"The only people who knew my identity were my direct disciples," Ziggurat scowled, his teeth grit like an animal.

"Secrets have a way of getting out," Heckler snorted, taking note of how Ziggurat's eyes narrowed into slits. "You weren't exactly as subtle as you thought either. Not to mention, your disciples don't exactly blend in. I mean, who legally changes their name to something like Athena and Hermes?" he deadpanned. "Seriously…there's being aesthetically pleasing and then there's just being condescendingly ridiculous."

"Is there a point to this?" Ziggurat snapped at him, holding up a fist with energy crackling from his Chaos Crest. Such fascinating things they were, it was a pity he hadn't found the time as of yet to study them further. The island still hadn't fully yielded all its secrets so that took top priority and he knew there was so much potential to be mined there before he could delve deeper into other things. That was the other problem with old Obadiah. Despite being a scientist, he was a shortsighted fool, only having scratched the surface of what lay on the island and instead had devolved into a devoted lapdog on a leash.

What a waste, he thought. It's always the same with these people.

"Are you listening to me, mortal?"

Ugh. These people had no patience and were always so full of themselves weren't they? Heckler wished they dealt with fewer megalomaniacs but in this type of business you had to be willing to make use of all sorts of pawns. Ziggurat was useful if nothing else, they learnt so much because of his actions even if he'd overstepped his boundaries time and time again. Still easier to do dealings with than Doji, that man had issues.

"I only tend to listen when something of value has been said," Heckler offered smugly, watching calmly as the scientist telegraphed the most obvious attack in human history. It was painfully difficult not to roll his eyes at all of this. Ziggurat's arm reared back way too much and far too slowly, he was given plenty of time to shift his body out of the way of the oncoming energy blast. It sizzled over his shoulder, displacing the air as it dove into the ground behind him and exploded, kicking dirt and debris into the air.

"Hmm…not too bad at all," he noted, titling his head as he purposefully exposed his back to the psychopath before him to examine the smoking crater left behind by the attack. "Not just blunt force, there's some heat residue for sure but the attack didn't quite function like a laser based on how destructive the end result was. Concussive power mostly, but with some explosive power behind it too? Fascinating."

He purposefully stroked his chin in an exaggerated gesture, leaning down far too much and basically screaming for Ziggurat to stab him in the back like this was a cheesy soap opera fight. He had no reason to be concerned, he'd already done some studies into the various Chaos attacks possible thanks to his research, and as such knew all of Ziggurat's tricks like the back of his hand. He was also emotionally quite fragile, and angering him would only prove advantageous. He didn't need to necessarily complete his objective this way, but by doing this he'd test his effectiveness against someone with Chaos powers. Mr. Fears needed a better gauge on their power level and how they'd do in a fight. All parameters needed to be thoroughly analysed and explored as always.

"If you tell me how you know what you do I may consider not blasting you into oblivion!" Ziggurat threatened, and Heckler glanced over his shoulder to see the man still holding his palm up, a second attack charging but not exploding out at him. This time he did roll his eyes dramatically as he straightened up and dusted his jacket off.

"Really, Obadiah?" he sighed with a disappointed shake of the head. "Are such petty threats really necessary? I told you already, didn't it? We've always known and we've always been watching."

"I do not appreciate cryptic clues!" Ziggurat snarled back at him, the vein on his forehead looking about ready to burst. "If you do not wish to tell me the truth then I will not hesitate to force it out of you. Believe me when I say I have the means."

"Oh, I'm sure you do," Heckler sniped back, making a show of yawning and then checking his watch. It pleased him to see Ziggurat's eye twitching furiously out of the corner of his vision. "Correction, I know you do – you've grown quite powerful over these past few years thanks to your Dark Lord."

"You watch your tongue, worm!" Another easily dodged attack blasted a hole in the place Heckler stood only a second prior as he nimbly flipped out of the way, landing cleanly on his feet with a perfect display of balance and agility.

All too easy.

"You dare insult the Heir of the Dark God?"

"I didn't take you to be such a religious zealot," Heckler deflected with a raised eyebrow, admitting inwards that his already less than ideal view on the scientist was dipping lower with every second. "Or perhaps your devotion is in fact just a smokescreen?" he posited. "Maybe you're just afraid?"

Ziggurat flinched and then failed spectacularly in trying to cover it up.

So he was right, old Obadiah wasn't in this for promises of power or glory. No, he was in this reluctantly. Likely he'd come into contact with Nemesis' Heir by mistake and was subsequently threatened into cooperation and acting as the being's lead servant. That would also explain the elaborate costume and theatrics, they were cover-ups for the truth that the man was doing this all held at gunpoint. Or perhaps the demonic entity had forced it on him as a sign of devotion. Either way it was quite pitiful, Ziggurat's two choices were to serve the monster or die.

How the mighty have fallen.

"Tell me," Heckler chuckled lightly. "What is it like being led around on a leash? It is comfortable, or its painful knowing you're no longer top dog? You used to be a scientist, reaching towards the stars and hoping to push humanity forward at any cost and now you've been reduced to nothing but a glorified henchman."

Ziggurat's face contorted as his lips peeled back into a savage snarl and his eyes widened with furious rage. Heckler could even see his hands shaking; no doubt he'd hit a real sore spot for the man. Perfect. This is precisely what he wanted: unshakable, incoherent rage. Ziggurat's pride was fragile like most men, and if damaged he would be left off-balance and distracted.

A man who loses sight of the path is easy prey for a predator of the wild.

"Tell me where you got your information from now before I tear you limb from limb," Ziggurat threatened, firing two blasts to either side of Heckler as a show of strength. Like before, they both left smoldering craters in their wake, though at this point it was starting to lose its appeal. Like any magic trick it got boring if overused. That and Heckler had seen destructive power at a far larger scale before.

He would never forget that day in Hiroshima…

"I already told you," Heckler sighed with another exaggerated roll of the eyes to distract himself from those dark memories. "We've always known. We've been watching patiently from the sidelines to see how everything plays out. We observe and we learn. That's how the system works. Did you think you got out of prison on your own merits? We were there to help you, to keep you under the cover of shadows."

He watched with bemusement as Ziggurat's face went through a sudden metamorphosis, switching between shock, confusion and contemplation all within a few seconds before the loop started all over again. He was surprised the man didn't have a stroke or something.

"What? Did you think your last remaining contacts got you out? That's hilarious!" Heckler barked out, ignoring the dangerous glint in the other man's eyes. "All your remaining allies were quick to run with their tail between their legs when Hades City went down. No one could weather a blow such as that after all. They all took one look and bolted. Can't say I blame them, down in the real world you fight to survive and survive they did." His mocking smile shifted into a firm and hard line as he paced forward, hands behind his back. The sudden change in demeanour was enough to cow Ziggurat from reacting or attacking. Further proof he had no idea what actual combat was like.

"You escaped a much harsher sentence because we allowed it, Obadiah," he sneered, taking on the lecturing tone he used in classes. "You escaped prison with as little fanfare as you did because we wished it so. You got the funds for your projects because we wished it so. The only reason you found Hermes, Athena and Viper was because of us. The only reason you're at this school is because of us. Did you really think it was that easy to infiltrate it? You pompous, deluded, old fool! We let you infiltrate this school because we built it. We made it the way it is and we allowed you the entry point to do as you did. Everything you are, everything you achieved, you owe it all to us!"

Heckler stopped about a meter from the other man, who seemed stuck trying to figure out if this was some elaborate prank at his expense or an acknowledgment that he held no real power at all and never had. In the end, the man chose defiance in the face of total and utter defeat.

"I refuse to believe I'm your puppet, whoever you really are." He spat at Heckler's feet, but the man ignored it completely, instead staring straight into Ziggurat's eyes.

"That's the thing about puppets," he said as he cracked his neck, letting the sound echo out to inform Ziggurat he meant business. "You aren't aware you're on strings until your master tells you so. And here we are, graciously informing you of where you stand. And unfortunately for you; you've outlived your usefulness. Actually, that's incorrect. You've simply overstepped your boundaries."

"You think you can stop me or the Dark Lord!" Ziggurat exploded with power and he thrust his hand forward, purple lightning streaking towards Heckler. It zapped through the air like a magic bullet but it was all meaningless in the end. The professor had been prepared, casually lifting his watch-covered wrist to cover his face. The electricity was drawn into the device; creating a blast of white light that blinded Ziggurat.

"That's impossible!" he spluttered, stumbling back as his vision went berserk. He reached for his face, desperately rubbing at his eyes in a desperate attempt get them working properly again. "How could you block such power beyond your comprehension?"

"Because it's not beyond my comprehension," Heckler shot back as he twisted the wristwatch till the blinding light subsided. It crackled with the energy it now held, a little unstable but understandable since it was merely a prototype. This was already proving to be a good field test. "We've been aware of abilities such as yours for some time. Did you not think we'd find a way to counteract it? It's you who's out of your depth here. I know everything about you and you know nothing about me."

"You'll perish for your insolence!" Ziggurat roared like a Saturday morning cartoon villain as he lunged forward blindly, hands held out ready to fire off more energy blasts. This was all basically child's play and it wasn't even funny. Resisting the urge to burst into laughter, Heckler stepped in; removing the ranged advantage the older man would have with his abilities. Ziggurat's blast flew off into the forest and harmlessly struck some innocent trees just minding their own business while Heckler took the split second the scientist paused to snag hold of his wrist. Twisting and turning, he pulled the man around before planting his other hand on his back and shoving him into the ground.

Ziggurat's jaw cracked against the pavement but he didn't give him even a millisecond to recover. His hand shot out and grabbed Ziggurat by the hair, yanking him up and then flipping him over his shoulder. He watched as spit flew from the man's mouth as his back slammed into the ground and his body shuddered from the impact. Typical, Ziggurat had no real fighting experience, preferring to let his powers do all the talking. It was also blatantly clear that he couldn't take a real hit at all either. Every blow was proving critical against him.

"Overconfidence breeds nothing but weakness!" Heckler declared, slamming an elbow down into the stunned man's face like a mallet, taking pleasure in the loud snap that was no doubt a nose being forced in the wrong direction. Ziggurat screamed as blood exploded over his face, his hands instinctively coming up to it to protect it from further harm. Understandable but still an amateur mistake because he was on the ground and had just left the rest of his body vulnerable.

Heckler punished him with a brutal elbow to the sternum before kneeing the man in the groan for extra measure. Finally it seemed Ziggurat was catching on to how outclassed he was because he slammed a hand to the ground and everything was suddenly enveloped in purple energy. Heckler as always was prepared though because he wasn't an idiot who underestimated his opponents. He brought his watch up again and this time twisted it so the energy it held was blown outwards, slamming in to Ziggurat's own concussive blast. The two impacted like rockets slamming into one another and the recoil knocked Heckler back a few paces.

The pavement cracked under the power of the explosive forces clashing and shattered, sending debris and ash flying into the air and engulfing their surroundings in thick smoke. Heckler was perfectly fine; his lenses were designed not only to be able to withstand blinding lights but also to see in the dark or through smokescreens. That was his mantra, always be prepared for any eventuality and never walk into a fight unless you knew you could win or had something to gain. Honour was for fools and people rich enough who could afford it. Fighting to win was all that mattered down in the real world.

"You dare touch me," Ziggurat spat weakly through the smoke, emerging with a hand rubbing his sore stomach. His face was caked with blood and his eyes were wide and surging with angry doses of purple energy. His nose was crooked and blood was spilling out of it like a tap. He was clearly struggling to stand by the way he awkwardly kneeled in the dirt.

"Guess you should have kept that mask on after all," Heckler couldn't help but observe as he folded his hands behind his back as an obvious sign of disrespect. He didn't need to take a fighting stance because he was simply that much better than his foe.

"I don't know who you are!" Ziggurat continued, undeterred or simply maxed out on anger already. "But regardless, you cannot stop the ritual and the Dark Lord's resurrection! He will rise and he will destroy you along with the Crimson Hero and anyone else who stands in his way!"

Heckler quirked an eyebrow. "What? Are you suggesting you can't stop me? My, my, you really have lost your touch haven't you, Obadiah." As expected the insult was enough to set the scientists off again, him unleashing twin blasts of lightning this time. It was about as ineffective as his prior tactics.

Heckler grinned as he dodged the first and let his watch absorb the second, its dials sizzling slightly from the extended use in quick succession. A minor annoyance in the grand scheme of things, it would hold well enough and well enough was all he needed right now. He moved in fast, easily maneuvering out of the way of Ziggurat's almost frustratingly telegraphed attacks. The scientists was smart enough this time to back up as Heckler moved in though, well aware he could not win a fight at close range – his powers were best put to their use at a range.

Unfortunately for him, Tomohiro Heckler was no pushover or idiot. Twisting the knob on his watch just as Ziggurat overextended on one of his attacks, the single moment of pause from the older man left him wide open to take a sudden blast of his own medicine. The purple energy caught him in the shoulder and sent him spinning, Heckler of course charged him immediately to capitalise on the situation. Ziggurat straightened just in time to see Heckler's foot collide with his face with a sickening crunch and more blood was splattered everywhere. He stumbled back in shock and screeching pain, while Heckler landed like a man in his prime and leapt forward, catching the man with a brutal knee to the ribs before catching him in the throat with a spear-hand strike.

By now Ziggurat was nothing but a quaking mess, he was stuttering and spluttering as one hand clutched his throat and the other was desperately trying to staunch the river of blood flowing from his nose. If he were a different man he'd give the old scientist a moment to recover just so he could toy with him, but he wasn't like that. He pressed his advantage when he fought to win. Never lower your eyes to an enemy and never stop until you've won for certain.

A devastating round house kick imbed itself in Ziggurat's sides and the man roared with pain as he was knocked away, stumbling and falling onto his back in the process. He barely had time to avoid being curb-stomped as Heckler bore down on him like a monster, following up his dodged attack with a backhand across the man's face. Ziggurat had barely managed to get to his feet when the attack landed and he was once again sent spinning, somehow mustering enough concentration to unleash a quick blast of Chaos energy.

How pathetically predictable!

Heckler leapt back, allowing his watch to absorb most of the attack yet again before once more charging in. Ziggurat had his wits about him enough to try and reach for his foe, perhaps foolishly believing if he locked him in he could overwhelm the man with sheer power. But Heckler was no amateur, easily slipping out of the grasp and moving within the scientist's reach. One fist impacted him straight between the eyes while the other caught the bottom of his jaw, his head flicking back and his brain undoubtedly screaming bloody murder as his pain receptors presumably kicked into overdrive.

The way he fell back screeching to the heavens seemed to heavily suggest that Heckler's assessment of the man's condition was correct.

He'd never admit it out loud but he always loved the feeling of this – the feeling of overwhelming superiority and power over an individual. It wasn't enough to just say or believe it; he had to prove it out in the field. He'd torn through swaths of men before, had cut them all down indiscriminately till none were left standing. Today was just any other day on the job, a chance to feel alive.

Right now he was relishing every wince, every gasp of pain Ziggurat let off like it was a drug. It was exhilarating, something you could only get in the moment through real, lived-in experiences. Perhaps it was something inherent to the old ways of man when they were nothing but savages, and while unnecessary violence was something detested by Heckler he couldn't help but savour it when it was necessary. Overconfidence was one thing, but true superiority was delectable when it was justified. People needed to know their place and he had zero trouble doing just that.

Letting out a wolfish grin he pressed his advantage further, bending Ziggurat over his knee as he struck him directly in the chest, ensuring the air was forcefully evacuated from his lungs. The man's eyes bulged and Heckler took this moment to twist around until his hand found its way around Ziggurat's head. In complete control, he forcefully guided the old doctor into the ground with a sickening thwack that was absolute music to his ears.

"Time for Phase Two."


The red traffic light looked like blood.

Because of course it did. Who needs happy thoughts when you have morbid imagery?

Through the rained on windscreen the image was blurry, and thus the crimson light reflected on the trickling water and appeared as if someone was crying blood. It was unnerving and depressing and oh god why was he thinking of it this way?

Because I need a distraction but can't adequately distract myself…

That was the answer as sad as it might have seemed. Turns out depression sucks, and it isn't as easy as simply thinking happy thoughts to get rid of it. Ignoring it also doesn't magically make it go away as the past week had proven. Annoyingly enough, seemingly ordinary things could remind you of the burden on your shoulders, it wasn't something you could simply push into your subconscious if you tried hard enough. Daytime soap operas had lied to him. Life wasn't fair and shouting you do believe in fairies wouldn't bring Tinker Bell back to life.

Santa isn't real you little shit, now go crawl into your grave like a good bag of meat. Sigh...

Ryo Hagane was many things…or that's what he liked to believe anyway. It was easy to assume you were the good guy after all. He liked to think he was kind, compassionate, hardworking and funny. He liked to believe he was a good man who had done a lot of good in the world. He liked to think that he had made the best choices that he could and had managed to bring about the best-case scenario when the time came for him to step up. He liked to think he had been a good father and had helped forge a better world for his son to live in.

Ryo wanted to believe he was infallible, that he could do no wrong and that he could make no mistakes. But he couldn't hold on to that delusion any longer. No one could really, but every person at some point in their life thinks to themselves that they'll reach the sun if they just believe hard enough. When he was younger he swore to make the world a better place, to rid the planet of evil and those who would prey on the weak and vulnerable for their own gain. He thought he'd make the right decisions and everything would be fine. He thought he could be a knight in shining armour; he thought he could be a hero.

But things weren't fine and he wasn't the hero of this story. It was time to accept that neither of those things had been true for a long time too. He'd messed up and it was time to face the music. This was no fairytale with a happy ending. It was official: reality sucked.

Katsuro was at the wheel of the stolen car; some black hunk of metal Ryo hadn't bothered to take any real notice of. It was probably some known brand but he didn't really care. It smelt of piss and the covers on the backseats were torn off but the engine worked and it didn't sound like it was about to explode so it would have to do. If Katsuro thought it was roadworthy then he thought it was too. He'd probably make a joke about it if not for his somber mood. For once he couldn't call upon his trusty sense of humour for even the most basic of deflections. Every joke fell dead on the tip of his tongue and so he'd stopped trying to even bother. Instead, the two were confined to driving in silence, the windscreen wipers occasionally screaming away as they swept water aside. Ryo focused on that, just watching them sweep back and forth without a care in the world.

You knew you had reached a low point when you were watching windscreen wipers to calm yourself.

He'd occasionally glance Katsuro's way every few minutes but it was clear his old friend wasn't in the mood to talk. His face didn't give anything away, he'd mastered the art of acting and hiding expressions years ago and he wouldn't insult the man's skills by suggesting there were cracks otherwise. That being said, he knew Katsuro's behavioural patterns enough and the dead silence was telling unless this was an elaborate scheme. The amount of cigarettes he'd smoked in the past few hours were also a pretty big give away if you knew the man's habits. He couldn't blame Katsuro for being angry with him or for paying attention to other matters though. They already had their talk earlier too; there was little need to start another argument.

Katsuro's latest cigarette hung loosely from his mouth, its smoke not suffocating them only because he'd insisted the windows be winded all the way down in spite of it raining. He'd huffed and rolled his eyes but had ultimately complied even though Ryo got the feeling he'd been cursing him in his head. This whole situation meant rain leaked through of course but they both put up with it like adults. Well, he did. Katsuro might have been pissed about the rain hitting his shoulder but he also might just be grumpy about everything else. It was genuinely hard to tell with him.

Something Ryo couldn't help but take notice of though was that Katsuro's hands rested firmly on the wheel, eyes constantly flickering from right to left as he remained on the lookout at all times. His hands were as stiff and solid as a statue, only shifting when the indicator needed to be switched on or the wheel to be turned. They were so rigid otherwise that it was actually kind of scary. Was he just concentrating really hard on driving or was something else going on? Ryo felt so in the dark, and how depressing what is when you couldn't even begin to feel like you understand your friend on even a basic level? He could recognise older behavioural patterns but nothing else...

Katsuro was paranoid; that seemed like a safe guess even if there was probably something more to it. A younger him would have mocked his friend for such obsessive behaviour but he was older and wiser now. He understood that the paranoia was justified when you were one knife in the back away from a back-alley grave. He honestly wasn't sure if he could deal with this like Katsuro could and might have even been a little jealous that Katsuro clearly had it handled. He was a ball of mess just waiting to explode at this point meanwhile. It was unnerving knowing you likely had a permanent target painted on your back. It was unsettling to be aware your life could very much suddenly be cut short at a moments notice. As corny as it sounded, he really was waiting to suddenly find a knife sticking out of his back.

How had Katsuro lived like this for so long? Ryo was getting a headache just from being cautious for a week, how had the master assassin adjusting to looking over his shoulder every day 24/7? Jumping at shadows was not nearly as fun as it might sound!

"Take a deep breath."

Ryo's head snapped around so fast he was surprised he didn't accidentally give himself whiplash. To be fair, he had been resigned to painful silence for the rest of the night so he was pretty damn well shocked any words had been exchanged. He almost choked in fact when responding.

"W-what?"

"I said to take a deep breath. I can tell what you're thinking and you're very close to hyperventilating. You're on the verge of a panic attack and that's exactly what we don't need right now. So, take a deep breath and listen to my voice." Ryo noticed that Katsuro's hands had tightened on the steering wheel just a little bit. He wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. "Since you're apparently very weak-willed I've elected to make polite conversation with you to get your mind off of things. I'm very generous like that."

The absolute disdain dripping from his words was enough to make Ryo cringe and he instinctively brought the briefcase he had with him closer to his chest as if it were a teddy bear and he a scared child looking for comfort. He couldn't quite remember ever getting scolded by his parents but what was happening right now felt very much like that. Though he and Katsuro were of the same age he felt so insignificant whenever in the man's presence. They should have been equals, but right now it felt nothing like that. Despite being seated in a car together the gap between them never seemed so large and they'd been on two different hemispheres for the last few years. It hadn't always been like that but then both of them had changed. Time can heal all wounds, but it can also let them expand and rot from the inside out.

The somber thought brought a frown to Ryo's face. It felt like he hadn't smiled in so long all of a sudden. Thank god he'd kept Gingka far away from all of this.

"Tell me about those two operatives of yours," Katsuro suggested as he bit down on the cigarette as if it were a piece of gum. He chewed the end for a moment before plucking it out from his mouth and casually tossing it out the window. Ryo couldn't help but watch it vanish into the rain, wind and blackness of the night. He wished he could just walk off into the rain and leave all his problems behind sometimes.

He watched Katsuro chew on his lower lip. "What were their names again?"

Ryo managed a faint smile. He knew how sharp and on the ball Katsuro was; he wouldn't have forgotten their names even if he took a dumbbell to the skull. He was feigning ignorance for his sake and he honestly wasn't sure if he should be grateful or feel insulted. Frankly with Katsuro it could very well be both, he was always a tough love kind of person. Still, it wouldn't help things to try and argue this with him. He was offering up a distraction so he might as well take it.

"Tsubasa and Hikaru," he answered after a moment as he rubbed his eyes. "Tsubasa's been with the WBBA longer, originally as a field agent. Hikaru joined as my personal assistance after the incident…um…after Battle Bladers."

Katsuro sighed loudly, looking like he wanted to bang his head on the steering wheel. Thankfully his eyes never once strayed from the road because Ryo wasn't sure he could deal with the disappointment in them being aimed directly at him. He also had to cringe, quickly realising he'd made a severe mistake with his choice of words. This wasn't going to end well was it?

"I'm not an idiot, Ryo," Katsuro assured with him with the most patronising tone imaginable. "I was watching even from Australia. She got really messed up and I'm guessing she never quite got over it. Let me guess, PTSD or something similar?" He didn't wait for confirmation or denial, he likely already knew and was just feigning ignorance again. Smug bastard. "I wouldn't be surprised; it did look like she got eaten at one point and I wouldn't exactly blame someone for being left traumatised after being obliterated by the Forbidden Bey. The choice of camera angles did nothing to help either. Tell me, how did the WBBA manage to prevent that being splattered all over the news?"

Ryo tensed and he felt an uncharacteristic surge of anger bloom in his chest. What happened to this being a friendly chat? Katsuro hadn't held back at all and instead took the first opportunity to jump straight into accusations and blame. Instead of calming him he took the first slip up he made to launch into a tirade.

The worst part though was that Ryo knew he didn't have a real retort regardless of Katsuro's intentions. The WBBA do suppress news relating to beyblade all the time, it simply wouldn't help to know how critically injured some people had been in battles in specific incidents. He always justified it by insisting these were exceptions and that it wouldn't be right for the world's perception of the game to be influenced and skewed by these one-offs. But as difficult as it was to concede, he understood now that he'd been wilfully ignorant. By suppressing the news he was in turn skewing the public's perception of the game. It was double standards through and through.

Ryo swallowed his pride as he ran his hand through his hair. "You're right Katsuro…we shouldn't have lied about so many things or hidden the truth. I thought I was doing what was for the best but now I can see that I went too far. I'm sorry for that."

"So you decided to take the girl with trauma under your wig and…. what? Drag her into the corporate side of this cluster fuck of a game? Pfft. Some leader you are."

The words were so harsh he was surprised Katsuro didn't lean over in his seat to punch him or at least smack him the upside of the head. Still, Ryo couldn't stop a pang of guilt from echoing through his heart. Hikaru's mother had just died and now he was dragging her into a large-scale conspiracy. She didn't need this, didn't deserve any of this. He had tried to help her all these years but maybe he was really just helping himself? He thought keeping her close to beyblade would help but perhaps instead he should have let her make her own choice.

A more levelheaded and well-slept Ryo would have focused on that and stood down, but the sleep-deprived Ryo instead ignored his better judgment and let his ego do the talking. He hadn't been making good decisions for years, why start now?

"What do you want me to say?" he snapped.

"I want you to actually somehow justify any of the stupid shit you did all these years," Katsuro replied smoothly and slowly as if talking to a child who didn't understand big words. Again his eyes remained focused on the road, never giving Ryo the attention he now felt he deserved. It hurt more than he thought it would, full-blown anger he could tolerate but simmering rage and disappointment threw him off balance. "I refuse to believe you're so much of an idiot that you have no justification for any of your actions bar blind loyalty to the idea that we can all get along if we just believe hard enough."

Ryo ran a hand through his hair again as he bit his lip, not really in the mood for another argument even though a part of him was screaming to shout back. He was mostly tired and emotionally drained, just wanting this all to be over and turn out to be some freakish nightmare instead of reality. He let the fatigue seep in to stop himself from doing something he'd regret. "I'm not going to fight you on this Katsuro," he said, taking a deep breath.

"I hope you're prepared for what comes next," Katsuro went on, clearly ignoring Ryo's tone that implied it'd be best to drop it. "I wonder how Hikaru will act once you drag her deeper into all of this. You think she'll be grateful or do you think she'll hate you? Remember, once they know about all of this there's no turning back. Just like us they'll be in it for the long haul. A long haul of pain and suffering."

"I trust them to do what is right," Ryo shot back quickly, hands tightening on his briefcase till his knuckles turned white. He forced himself to look out the window if only to stop himself from trying to set his friend on fire with his eyes. Dammit, only Katsuro could ever get under his skin like this. "They've never let me down before and I doubt they'd start now. You're correct that they deserve better," he conceded. "But both of them are strong in their own way and I know they'll make the right decisions unlike myself."

This he genuinely had faith in. Tsubasa and Hikaru were good people, better than him now he realised. Just like Gingka. They'd go far if they worked hard enough and they'd achieve the things he never could. If there was one thing he'd gotten right it was the next generation he'd leave behind to continue in his place. Assuming they'd have a future where they'd get to take over anyway…God, this was depressing.

"Blindly trusting people to do the right thing," huffed Katsuro as he turned a corner a bit too sharply for Ryo's liking. "Look where that's gotten the human race after all these years. Next thing you're going to tell me is that democracy solved all our problems and actually gave all the power to the people. What happens if they don't make the right choice, Ryo? Then what are you going to do? What's your backup plan? Hold hands in a circle and shout peace?"

"Are you suggesting we should just give up now?" Ryo barked at him, barely managing to avoid turning back to face him if not for biting down on the inside of his cheek. His pain receptors were screaming at him but it was exactly what he needed to keep his temper in check. Usually he wouldn't require such a distraction but Katsuro and only Katsuro could ever get under his skin like this.

"I'm not saying we should give up." The tires screeched as another unnecessarily sharp turn was made in time with a flash of lightning. "I'm simply informing you now that the path we're on won't be an easy one. By dragging them down into this we may condemn them to hell too. I'm just laying out all the variables is all and all the possible outcomes. It's up to you if you want to lash out or not. I just call it how it is."

"Really?" Ryo couldn't help but snipe back. "You're not trying to bait me or anything?"

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Katsuro threw his head back and laughed like a witch. "If I wanted to bait you I'd talk about your work with child soldiers."

Ryo whipped around, eyes wide with fury. He probably would have lunged for the man if he wasn't driving. That being said his hands were clenching and unclenching, the briefcase no longer satisfying enough to hold his attention. He wanted to strike Katsuro just as he was struck by him earlier. His jaw and body was still sore and he hated it even more that he could tell this was precisely what Katsuro wanted. He wanted him to be animalistic and frothing at the mouth like some wild predator, he wanted him to let go of decency and simply lash out. He wanted him to act like a monster. Katsuro wanted him to inflict the beating he'd taken back on him.

"What did you just say?" Ryo bit out even though he knew for a fact he was walking headfirst into a trap. He didn't care anymore though; his fatigue had been entirely replaced with frustration and bitterness and at the very least a duel with words would be better than a duel with fists.

"You know just as well as I do that beyblade can be very dangerous," Katsuro explained casually as he briefly adjusted the rearview mirror. "So, how did you expect me to react when I found out you made a school based around it? You're actively encouraging kids to get into it, to form careers out of it and then what? I suppose you turn them into more agents for the WBBA maybe? And don't get me started on that ridiculous Pro League. You do understand why the underground leagues begun to begin with right? Because that shit was dangerous. What did you expect to happen when you recreated it all legally?"

"We started it all to more easily control and contain everything." Ryo's teeth were grinding together so hard he was afraid they'd shatter. "We could watch out for bad stuff happening if it all occurred through the channels we controlled and monitored. The abuse of the game could be overcome if we decided to become the central hub of it all."

"How naïve and blindly optimistic." Katsuro leaned over to spit out the window. Ryo wished he could slam said window shut on his mouth. His finger twitched as he eyed the button. It'd be so easy…

"If you want to back out now's your chance!" he snapped instead, slamming his hands down on the dashboard lest he choke out Katsuro. His hands were running out of things to distract him with at a frightening pace now that he thought about it. "You didn't have to accept my call for help! You didn't have to come if you really didn't want to! I already admitted I screwed up, okay! I already let you wail on me for it and everything! I made mistakes, a lot of them, but you're acting like we've already lost! Like I've condemned humanity to hell or that the damage is irreversible!"

"You are aware the entire WBBA has to go down, right?" Katsuro responded with, briefly glancing at him for the first time since the car ride began. Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds and Ryo looked away first with a grimace. The only reaction Katsuro gave was another dangerously sharp turn that Ryo would have complained about if not for the fact that they were already arguing. "There's no reforming it if you can literally only trust two of your closest assistants. We don't even know how far or how deep all of this goes. Chances are we have to blow the whole foundations out to fix this. If everything is compromised and corrupt then you have to burn it all to the ground. And trust me when I say this, when the time comes to do it, I will press the trigger myself with or without your consent."

Though he was looking away Ryo somehow knew Katsuro was staring at him again. He could feel those cold eyes bearing into his back. A cold shiver ran down his spine and he knew if he did turn to look he'd see nothing but something dark and disturbing in the eyes of the other man. He didn't want to look at Katsuro's eyes and see that his old friend was long gone. He knew all he'd find in them was pain and suffering. He wasn't ready to confront that particular issue just yet.

"And if you get in my way, I will fight you and remove you from the equation," was the final ultimatum.

Ryo gulped because what else could he do? The implication there was obvious and he immediately felt all his anger deflate and evaporate into nothing. All he could think about was the gruesome image of his friend's hands around his throat. He'd seen Katsuro kill someone before. He'd long wished he could wipe that particular memory from his mind. He really wished he could forget it because right now he was imagining it all over again, except this time Katsuro was standing over his bloodied corpse. Was that where their paths would lead them, at each other's throats? When they parted it had been partially to avoid such a fate, but now that was once again a possible future to fear. The real scary part was that Ryo knew it wouldn't necessarily end in Katsuro's victory either, if push-came-to-shove, he'd play for keeps too…

"I'm going to walk away Ryo. If you want to shoot me in the back, now's your chance because you'll never get another one."

"This game means a lot to people…do you really want to take it away from all of them…?"

Another flash of lightning lit up the night outside the windows and Ryo focused intently on that as if his life depended on it. His heart was aching more than his body now. His mouth tasted like vomit.

"Sentiment isn't a weakness, Ryo," he heard Katsuro grunt. "But in this specific case it is. If humanity developed an attachment to nukes it wouldn't be right to cling to that attachment would it? Beyblade can achieve a lot of good, I'm well aware, but it's also a double-edged sword. It could just as well be used for ill and we've seen that happen time and time again already. Slme things are better left buried. You want to hear my theory on what's happening at your school? Some investors in it are probably to blame for what happened. After all, the Dark Nebula and Hades Inc. weren't random, independent businesses with no support or aid. People invested money in them; had their filthy hands in them. You might have been willing to let the third parties off the hook just because it'd be easier to sweep everything under the rug but I'm not going to overlook anything. If there are rats and moles inside the WBBA then that means any ties they have are also suspect. We could very well be walking into a web of conspiracies here."

Ryo lowered his head, letting his eyes wander back to the rain that was leaking onto his shoulder through the open window. It was surprisingly cool and soothing and he focused on that feeling of dampness instead of the fire burning in his heart and the twisting feeling in his guts.

"You think people got onto the island and did something and the WBBA willingly allowed all of that?" He already knew the answer but he had to ask it anyway, had to hold on to the last drop of faith he had left. Blind optimism was all he ever had after all.

"Yes."

Dammit.

"The Dark Nebula and Hades Inc. weren't just one-offs you realise? They were byproducts of an atmosphere you created. You let the genie out of the bottle and it wouldn't surprise me to find out that parts of the WBBA were working with Doji and Dr. Ziggurat on at least some level. At the very least they were probably aware of them for a while but didn't feel the need to do or say anything until they overstepped their boundaries. You're just their figurehead while the real scheming goes down in the background. That's how it usually happens. They'll side with you of course, especially out in the open. Well…until they think they can safely remove you anyway. Now that you know what's up they'll likely find a way to be rid of you once and for all once they find out."

"Once and not if?" Ryo gulped out. His neck suddenly felt very itchy.

"They've clearly been playing this game for awhile Ryo," was the blunt reply he received and not the comforting response he hoped for. Why was he surprised at this point? "Trust me when I say they will find out and then it's all about battening down the hatches before the storm hits. It's inevitable.

"I suppose…"

"No! Not suppose, it will happen."

"Okay, I get it," Ryo bit out as he slammed his eyes shut.

"No, I want to hear you say it. Wanna make sure the point has been made." Katsuro somehow kept a straight face through all of this and Ryo had never been so tempted to strike someone in the face before. It hurt his very soul to give in but he did if only because Katsuro was the type of guy to crash the vehicle just to spite someone.

"It. Will. Happen," he grit out. "Happy?"

"Tsubasa was a field agent you said earlier right?" Ryo nodded even though once again, Katsuro would have remembered perfectly. Still, he was grateful for the slight change of subject. "So tell me then…how old was he when the WBBA recruited him? You thought the child soldier thing I said was just for jokes?"

Ryo's throat suddenly felt so very dry and the car boiling hot even though the rain was pelting his shoulder still. He desperately licked his lips but it failed to do much at all, his mouth still all scratchy and blistering. He chanced a look at Katsuro to see he was no longer glaring his way, his eyes once again entirely focused on the road. Still, he could feel the tension and the unsaid accusations and judgments hanging in the air. If Ryo could sink into his ratty car seat any further he would. Anger or bitter shame, he didn't even know what he was feeling anymore.

"It wasn't me…" was the pathetic defence he offered. Defence was a charitable way to describe it though; it was more an excuse for himself. He could wash his conscience of this specific act and nothing more. He certainly couldn't justify it. The WBBA had taken Tsubasa at a young age and conditioned him and trained him to be what he is. Tusbasa and Hikurua, two people who deserved better than the hand life had dealt them. He might not have directly exploited them but he stood aside and watched it happen without remorse.

"You're lucky we were friends Ryo," are the only words Katsuro has to offer him and they sting more than he thought they would. If he were waxing poetic he'd say his heart was just split in two but that would imply he had a heart to begin with. In truth he'd turned his back on Katsuro long ago now, why should he be surprised the man no longer acknowledged him as his friend? Why would he after everything he'd done? All these years it had been easy to simply not think about it, but now confronted it all came bearing down like a ton of bricks.

"I have the sneaking suspicion the light is dying in your eyes," Katsuro said suddenly, though Ryo could not muster the courage to even look at him lest he provide the man the evidence he so obviously wanted. Instead his eyes were busy examining the floor and letting his hair fall over his face to cover himself up. Cowardly? Sure. But right now he had little else to fall back on. If only he could shut his ears off too.

"That's good. Real good. You're finally getting a full grasp of the situation and how fucked this all is," Katsuro mused with a tone which mixed bitterness and amusement. "We need to understand the full ramifications of this whole scenario before we can work to fix anything. You feel like a monster? That's good, because you should feel like one. You have to come to terms with that before you can truly accomplish anything. Understand your place in the world, understand all the conditions and variables and then start digging yourself out of the grave you're in. That's how we're maybe going to win."

Maybe. No certainties. It hit harder than he thought it would. It wasn't the last thing that would hit Ryo tonight as it turned out.

The car speeding at them made sure of it.


To Be Continued

Well, that's that. Hope ya'll like cliffhangers. Here's some more of Katsuro and Ryo who will have some more time in this season before it's over. I really like writing Ryo actually if only because I'm taking his character in such a radically different direction than what canon did with him. As you can probably tell by now, we're far out of canon when it comes to how we're exploring beyblade and the WBBA. We also got some more Heckler and Ziggurat and despite Heckler proving himself superior to Ziggurat in a fight we will get to see the power Ziggurat has when the final battle comes up. Also, yes, when Hiroshima got mentioned I am referencing what you think I am. Does that put Heckler's age into question? Yes, yes it does and that's entirely on purpose. Hopefully I'll see you in about two weeks with the next chapter. Fingers crossed this new writing schedule will work. Please review as always if you have any comments, thoughts or criticisms.