Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade, and will not be making any profit from this story

Darkness Lurking

By

Super_Guy_In_Tights

((Hey, plz read all the way through, even though this chapter might be kinda boring, don't judge it by it's

beginning. PLz R&R))

CHAPTER 1 - The Message

In the small town of Cheltenham,just outside of Vancouver, there lived a family named Smith. In this family,

which consisted of the husband, Hugh, the wife, Helen, and their particularly rude son Andy, were not a happy

and friendly bunch. But there was another member of the family. His name was Peter Shearer, a relative who's

parents had died while researching Beyblade History in Japan. Or, at least that's what they told him.



To say the least, the Smith's hated Beyblading as much as they loved jelly filled donuts, which

was quite a bit. The whole family was obese, eating fatty foods almost every night. Despite the

food conditions, Peter maintained a rather skinny figure because the Smith's always ate much more than needed,

leaving little left for him. The Smith's odd and misshapen house, which seemed to be painted in one color,

a throw-up green, which had ran out and one side and the back of the house had been painted in red. Hugh was

very proud of this house as he had helped build it. Partly explaining the odd shapen and dead lawn, and condition

of the actual living area. The house was only built to accommodate three people, so Peter slept in the cold and damp basement.



But, Peter was ok with it because of one thing. At night, when he came home from school or

the park, he would smuggle in a freshly built Beyblade, customized by his friend Alec. Since the

door of the basement was thick and most sounds and things moving down there could not be

heard by the rest of the house, Peter practiced late into the night. Launching his Beyblade over

and over again.



Although content for a short while with practicing in the basement, Peter craved more. He

craved tournaments in other countries. Seeing new techniques and approaches to what seemed to

be a simple sport.

***



"HELEN!" Hugh screamed, careening through the house, his rolls of fat jiggling like a large tub full

of Jell-O. "HELEN! Where in blue blazes are you, woman?!"



A small voice squeaked from the kitchen, "Im-Im-Im in here dear." Helen called back to her

husband.



Hugh's face turned from angry to loving as he slowly and as gracefully, as a cow being pulled

along to it's execution, sauntered over to his wife.



Helen was very fat, but small as well. Come to think of it, she had always reminded Peter of an overly

stuffed Chinchilla. This was ironic as her little helpers,or, in other words, her 15 pet Chinchillas, which

were always sneaking around the house. In fact, Peter had awoken many a night with the fuzzy feeling of a

Chinchilla dropping some poop onto his forehead. These little creatures also left little gifts around the

house, which Hugh always objected to because he had slipped on many such droppings several times. Always

voicing his distast with the animals, and screaming an shouting about how Helen was obsessed and needed

to see a doctor about her Chinchilla like figure.

Helen was the best cook in the house, although her 'culinary works of art' were rarely seen. This

was moslty because she had a habit of nibbling on everything and anything that was food. One incident after

another occured where Helen had been cooking Lemon and Lime Pie. When the dish had finally been put on the

table, half of it was already missing. She claimed that the Chinchilla had ate it, and Peter agreed. A

Chinchilla had devoured the pie. But, it wasn't one of her pets, it was, of course, Helen herself, who was

boasting a new mask of lemon curd and crumbs. This had infuriated Hugh, who was eagerly awaiting the pie's

delivery. Yelling tim and time again about how much he hated her nibbling habit, and those goddamned Chinchilla's

of her's, who also had taken their fair share of the pie.



"Dearest, something odd came into the mail today." He said with a fake smile.



"Oh, what is it?" Helen replied inquisitively.



"Well," Hugh said, his face getting red with anger, "It's for Peter. From the....." Hugh began

to read the sender's address. " It's from the 'Dickinson's School for Young and Gifted...." He

paused before continuing, "BEYBLADERS!!!" He shouted with anger.



Helen muttered a little 'Oh my!', but nothing could be heard over Hugh's loud voice.



"Now, I wonder!" Hugh continued, "Why would our little pest be getting a letter from a

school for...." He pause again, the anger swelling inside him, "BEYBLADERS!?" Hugh shouted

again.



"Well-well-well, dear, I frankly don't know." replied Helen, a little frightened by her

husband's growing anger.



"BOY!!" Hugh shouted at last.



Hugh galloped as fast as he could to the basement door and began pounding on it with such

force that it began to break under his strength.

***



Peter's head turned as he heard all the noise and commotion from the kitchen. He caught parts

of the conversation. Mostly, he heard the word Beyblade repeated over and over.

'Have they found out about me practicing?' Peter wondered.

But at that moment he heard the loud yell of "BOY!" and the banging at the door.

"Oh crap!" Peter said, shuffling all the Beyblading things into his chest and locking it.

Just then, Andy came leaping, or rather flopping down the creaky upper floor stairs at a

breakneck speed, that is to say the rate of the noise of the steps on the stairs were

'........thump............thump'

"Oy, when did these stairs get so big." Andy said with a huff of breath

He finally made it down the stairs and yelped as he saw his father pounding on the great thick

door.

"Daddy," Andy said with little squeak, "Your breaking the door!"

"Shuttup Andy! Go play with that Video-Station 7 thingy of yours!"

"It's called a Playstation 2 dad. Anyway daddy, I wanna see Peter get punished." Andy said in a

small voice.

"Honey, best you do what your father asks of you. He's quite angry." Helen said over Hugh's

shouts.

"Daddy, why is Peter in trou-.."

Andy was cut off by his father. "Son, if you don't go upstairs right now," Hugh said the next

few words with great emphasis on each one of

them,"THERE..WILL...BE..NO..MORE..DONUTS!!"

Andy gave a small 'You can't do that!' but went upstairs all the same.Mr. Smith finally broke

the door down, and stood at the top of the stairs, the light shining behind him, creating a great looming Silhouette.

Every once and a while, as he descended the stairs, he would speak part of the sentence that

Peter knew he would belt out at him again as soon as he reached the bottom.

"Boy," He said giving off an angry and evil smile as he continued walking down the stairs,

continuing to speak, "There was something that came," He paused reaching a especially creaky

and steep part of the steps. "There was something that came in the mail today." Hugh said,

finishing his sentence and reaching the bottom of the steps.

"Was-was-was it for m-m-m-me?" Peter stammered.

"Of course it was boy! Why the hell else would I be telling you?" Mr. Smith said, his anger

rising again.

"S-s-s-sorry." Came Peter's stammered reply, "I j-just couldn't be sure."

"Well, next time use your thick head you dim-witted..." Hugh was cut off.

"Hugh! That is quite enough, now just give the boy his letter and leave him alone.

Mr. Smith's head swivelled around, giving a puzzled look to his wife.

"I am just so sick of you pestering and bullying him all the time." She continued. Hugh gave

her a look that seemed to read 'but what about all those times that....' "I know I liked it when

you would treat him horribly at the start, but I have grown out of that. Give him his letter, and if

he should like to go to that school, then he is going! AND THAT IS THAT!" She finished,

yelling at the last bit because it seemed that Mr. Smith was about to yell again.

Peter was just as stunned as the rest. Yes, even Andy had been listening from the bottom step

on the stairs. A million things were running through his mind, they swirled around and around

like a giant whirlpool.

'Why would Aunt Helen be protecting me? And what school would she mean?' Peter thought,

but just as he thought those same things, an idea gelled and formed in his mind. Had she meant a

Beyblade school? It was too weird of a though, and he shook it free from his head.

"Fine." Mr. Smith said with a huff.

He shoved the slightly worn and a little torn letter into Peter's hands and walked loudly back

up the steps, muttering little curses and words of distaste.

After the whole family had vacated the basement, Peter tore open the letter eagerly. He read

the letter over twice. It read:

Dear Mr. Shearer,

It has been taken to our attention that you have great potential as a Beyblader. We at the

Dickinson's School for The Young and Gifted Beybladers wish that you would attend our new

school for, as the title implies, Beybladers from around the world. More information will be

given to you on our own train. In this envelope, you will find the ticket. There will be two trains

leaving at different times on the said date. Please, we hope that you do not miss a train, and are

eagerly waiting your arrival at our school.

Sincerely, Kai, Headmaster At 'The Dickinson's School For The Young and Gifted Beybladers'

(( Hey guyz. Sry that this chapter was a bit boring, but it'll get better. I promise. Plz review,

I need all the feedback that I can get))