Zioa awoke on a bamboo mat. What had awoken him he did not know, but
it sure was noisy.
He was in a Dojo type construct. It was all smooth wood, and many people stood around the Beystadiums, placed in the floor. They all stood around these great dishes, launching their black Beyblades into their respective stadiums over, and over again. One winning, and the other switching out so a new combatant could go up to bat, and try their luck.
He rose to his feet. Something dropped from his pocket. It was the same black Beyblade that had been thrown at him. Rubbing his still sore jaw, Zioa looked around. He walked up to the nearest Beystadium, and watched for a couple rounds as people in all black martial arts clothing launched their Beyblades in and called out to them.
This was something Zioa found odd. They were calling out to their spinning blades, and they would follow the directions pointed out to them by their owners. Zioa found this amazing and quickly got in line to see if it would follow his orders.
Zioa finally reached the front of the line, and stepped up. He had watched enough to know how to launch like most of them, and knew basic commands to order his Beyblade around. Here it was. The moment where he would either make a fool of himself, or triumph. Either way, he was hooked on the sport already, and found it infatuating.
His opponent was a large, rather fat kid whose eyes glazed over at the prospect of battling a new person on the scene. He smirked as he watched Zioa fumble around with the launcher he had borrowed, until it was right.
The fat boy called out. "Three......Two......One......LET IT RIP!" He yelled as both Zioa and the boy launched their black Beyblades into the stadium.
The boy immediately went into action. He ordered his Beyblade to evade until a subtle time to attack, then strike with full force. A very blatant and obvious strategy, thought Zioa. Fine, he was going to counter it.
"Outs-pin your opponent, he will take too much time evading and when he attacks, get close to the wall and move out of his way." This strategy, was further thought out than his opponents, and soon the battle was over. He had easily dodged his opponent's Beyblade, and sent it careening out of the stadium, using it's own momentum.
The fat boy looked astonished has his blade flew from the stadium. He was speechless as he picked it up and went to the back of the line. For some time, Zioa was battling with opponent after opponent, winning each time.
It was well past 5 when he was finally defeated by luck alone. Zioa was tired, and so he went back to his mat to fall asleep for a while until the mess hall would open for dinner.
He was roughly awoken by own of the other captured people, or so Zioa figured the boy was. He followed him to a school cafeteria. This was odd. It seemed to be have moved from an actual school, into the underground facility where Zioa was put.
He sat at long tables, and the food was already presented. There, on a paper plate was three separate things. A large plop of mashed potatoes, peas and carrots, and finally a long chocolate chip cookie on the side.
Hungry, he wolfed it down without a word, his head hung low over the plate. After he had finished and wiped his face with a napkin, he didn't even inspect the cafeteria itself. He didn't much care anymore. Nothing much else mattered to him besides Beyblading, and freeing himself from this silver lined prison.
He was in a Dojo type construct. It was all smooth wood, and many people stood around the Beystadiums, placed in the floor. They all stood around these great dishes, launching their black Beyblades into their respective stadiums over, and over again. One winning, and the other switching out so a new combatant could go up to bat, and try their luck.
He rose to his feet. Something dropped from his pocket. It was the same black Beyblade that had been thrown at him. Rubbing his still sore jaw, Zioa looked around. He walked up to the nearest Beystadium, and watched for a couple rounds as people in all black martial arts clothing launched their Beyblades in and called out to them.
This was something Zioa found odd. They were calling out to their spinning blades, and they would follow the directions pointed out to them by their owners. Zioa found this amazing and quickly got in line to see if it would follow his orders.
Zioa finally reached the front of the line, and stepped up. He had watched enough to know how to launch like most of them, and knew basic commands to order his Beyblade around. Here it was. The moment where he would either make a fool of himself, or triumph. Either way, he was hooked on the sport already, and found it infatuating.
His opponent was a large, rather fat kid whose eyes glazed over at the prospect of battling a new person on the scene. He smirked as he watched Zioa fumble around with the launcher he had borrowed, until it was right.
The fat boy called out. "Three......Two......One......LET IT RIP!" He yelled as both Zioa and the boy launched their black Beyblades into the stadium.
The boy immediately went into action. He ordered his Beyblade to evade until a subtle time to attack, then strike with full force. A very blatant and obvious strategy, thought Zioa. Fine, he was going to counter it.
"Outs-pin your opponent, he will take too much time evading and when he attacks, get close to the wall and move out of his way." This strategy, was further thought out than his opponents, and soon the battle was over. He had easily dodged his opponent's Beyblade, and sent it careening out of the stadium, using it's own momentum.
The fat boy looked astonished has his blade flew from the stadium. He was speechless as he picked it up and went to the back of the line. For some time, Zioa was battling with opponent after opponent, winning each time.
It was well past 5 when he was finally defeated by luck alone. Zioa was tired, and so he went back to his mat to fall asleep for a while until the mess hall would open for dinner.
He was roughly awoken by own of the other captured people, or so Zioa figured the boy was. He followed him to a school cafeteria. This was odd. It seemed to be have moved from an actual school, into the underground facility where Zioa was put.
He sat at long tables, and the food was already presented. There, on a paper plate was three separate things. A large plop of mashed potatoes, peas and carrots, and finally a long chocolate chip cookie on the side.
Hungry, he wolfed it down without a word, his head hung low over the plate. After he had finished and wiped his face with a napkin, he didn't even inspect the cafeteria itself. He didn't much care anymore. Nothing much else mattered to him besides Beyblading, and freeing himself from this silver lined prison.