Lightning flashed in the night sky. Crackling thunder followed closely.
Cold rain poured relentlessly down on the city. Hardly any signs of life
could be seen, as far as I can see. My chest rose and fell with each deep
breath I took as my eyes scanned the streets slowly moved through; ignoring
the rain that fell down my face. A flash; a movement of shadows. I froze.
Suddenly, my legs, like coiled springs, made me leap forward in a sprint.
A voice could be heard cursing as my target ran for their life. Left, right, left right. The chase ran through the streets, but I was never far from the target. The prey, a middle aged man, skidded into an alley, knocking as many trash cans into my path as possible. I couldn't help but smirk. They always thought that would work. I jumped over the can in one fluid motion, never altering my stride. I removed a metallic object from my object and took aim.
Swish.. "ARG!" CRASH!!!!
The man fell into some trash cans, his ankle bleeding, a metal disc with jagged edges embedded in his flesh. He turned to his back and tried crawling back from me. Lightning flashed again, casting my shadow down across the man. He gasped, the light probably slightly bringing my face into view.
"Y...you?" he gasped, recognising my rain drenched face.
The man didn't say anything else. A flash of metal. A spurt of red. Removing the claws from the corpse's chest, I produced a cloth to wipe the blood from my weapon. Once the blood was wiped clean, I removed one of the claw gloves off my hand and reached into my pocket, removing a mobile phone from the pocket of my pants. I hit the speed dial.
".Hello."
"Job's done."
"Good work, Shadow. I'll deliver the details of the next job tomorrow, same time. Now get outta there."
"Roger."
((A/N: The phone is like one of those the people in the Matrix use))
Snapping the phone shut, I glanced at the dead body of the dead man. I pulled out the metal disc I threw into the man's ankle.
"Never look back." I heard myself mutter, remembering the old saying that had been drilled into my mind as I stood.
I walked away from the scene, and never looked back.
******
Enrique stretched and yawned. Pushing the covers off him, he slid out of bed and proceeded with his daily routine. He glanced out of the window, glad to see the storm from last night had subsided. After making sure his hair was how he liked it, he walked down the stairs to the kitchen. He smiled, smelling the delicious odour that wafted through the cracks of the door.
"Good morning, Oliver." He said smiling, pushing the door open.
"Good morning, Enrique. Pancakes?" The green haired chef greeted, smiling and holding a frying pan.
"Mmm, yeah. Please." Enrique said, sitting down. He glanced to the side and saw the morning paper. Oliver hadn't read it yet, so Enrique decided to read it first.
Soon, Johnny and Robert had emerged from their slumber and joined the other two for breakfast. Robert shook his head.
"I cannot believe how thunderous that storm was last night. I hardly managed to sleep." Robert commented.
"You weren't the only one." Enrique said, still reading the paper. "There's been a murder not too far from here!"
The rest of the Majestics turned to face Enrique. "What?"
"This morning, at approximately one twenty four, a member of the public had discovered the body of Charles Montalet, thought to be a respected BBA French official, in an alleyway in the centre of Paris. Five puncture wounds believed to have been made by a thin bladed knife were found on his chest. Officials believe Mr Montalet was murdered by the same serial killer who also was thought to have killed Marie Capague and Pierre Fleur; both respected in their field of work. Mr Montalet leaves behind a widow and three month old baby..."
The Majestics looked up at this. "Wow. another murder in Paris? Who's this serial killer?" Johnny said, snatching the paper out of Enrique's hands.
"Whoever it was, they could be in big trouble. Charles Montalet is an important figure in the Parisian Beyblade office." Robert said over his pancakes.
Oliver looked up at the clock on the wall. "I think we better get going. The charity Beyblade tournament is about start; we've agreed to meet the Bladebreakers at the stadium, remember?"
Nodding, the boys left their breakfast plates for the maids to clear as they left the DuBois manor for the Stadium.
"Hey, Oliver, didn't we see that Montalet guy just three days ago?" Enrique said, suddenly remembering.
"We were looking for some new art work for the manor, remember, Giancarlo? That guy also dealt with art, part time. Oliver just couldn't live without his precious art." Johnny said, poking fun at the green haired French boy.
"I'll have you know that art is a symbol of class and refinery, qualities you obviously don't have McGregor." Oliver retaliated.
"Hey! I'll have you know."
For the rest of the trip to the Stadium, the boys laughed and argued about Oliver's love of art, the murder moving further from their minds.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Okay, I don't own Beyblade. And this fic was inspired by some other fanfiction and an anime I read about: Weiß Kreuz, which I also don't own.
A voice could be heard cursing as my target ran for their life. Left, right, left right. The chase ran through the streets, but I was never far from the target. The prey, a middle aged man, skidded into an alley, knocking as many trash cans into my path as possible. I couldn't help but smirk. They always thought that would work. I jumped over the can in one fluid motion, never altering my stride. I removed a metallic object from my object and took aim.
Swish.. "ARG!" CRASH!!!!
The man fell into some trash cans, his ankle bleeding, a metal disc with jagged edges embedded in his flesh. He turned to his back and tried crawling back from me. Lightning flashed again, casting my shadow down across the man. He gasped, the light probably slightly bringing my face into view.
"Y...you?" he gasped, recognising my rain drenched face.
The man didn't say anything else. A flash of metal. A spurt of red. Removing the claws from the corpse's chest, I produced a cloth to wipe the blood from my weapon. Once the blood was wiped clean, I removed one of the claw gloves off my hand and reached into my pocket, removing a mobile phone from the pocket of my pants. I hit the speed dial.
".Hello."
"Job's done."
"Good work, Shadow. I'll deliver the details of the next job tomorrow, same time. Now get outta there."
"Roger."
((A/N: The phone is like one of those the people in the Matrix use))
Snapping the phone shut, I glanced at the dead body of the dead man. I pulled out the metal disc I threw into the man's ankle.
"Never look back." I heard myself mutter, remembering the old saying that had been drilled into my mind as I stood.
I walked away from the scene, and never looked back.
******
Enrique stretched and yawned. Pushing the covers off him, he slid out of bed and proceeded with his daily routine. He glanced out of the window, glad to see the storm from last night had subsided. After making sure his hair was how he liked it, he walked down the stairs to the kitchen. He smiled, smelling the delicious odour that wafted through the cracks of the door.
"Good morning, Oliver." He said smiling, pushing the door open.
"Good morning, Enrique. Pancakes?" The green haired chef greeted, smiling and holding a frying pan.
"Mmm, yeah. Please." Enrique said, sitting down. He glanced to the side and saw the morning paper. Oliver hadn't read it yet, so Enrique decided to read it first.
Soon, Johnny and Robert had emerged from their slumber and joined the other two for breakfast. Robert shook his head.
"I cannot believe how thunderous that storm was last night. I hardly managed to sleep." Robert commented.
"You weren't the only one." Enrique said, still reading the paper. "There's been a murder not too far from here!"
The rest of the Majestics turned to face Enrique. "What?"
"This morning, at approximately one twenty four, a member of the public had discovered the body of Charles Montalet, thought to be a respected BBA French official, in an alleyway in the centre of Paris. Five puncture wounds believed to have been made by a thin bladed knife were found on his chest. Officials believe Mr Montalet was murdered by the same serial killer who also was thought to have killed Marie Capague and Pierre Fleur; both respected in their field of work. Mr Montalet leaves behind a widow and three month old baby..."
The Majestics looked up at this. "Wow. another murder in Paris? Who's this serial killer?" Johnny said, snatching the paper out of Enrique's hands.
"Whoever it was, they could be in big trouble. Charles Montalet is an important figure in the Parisian Beyblade office." Robert said over his pancakes.
Oliver looked up at the clock on the wall. "I think we better get going. The charity Beyblade tournament is about start; we've agreed to meet the Bladebreakers at the stadium, remember?"
Nodding, the boys left their breakfast plates for the maids to clear as they left the DuBois manor for the Stadium.
"Hey, Oliver, didn't we see that Montalet guy just three days ago?" Enrique said, suddenly remembering.
"We were looking for some new art work for the manor, remember, Giancarlo? That guy also dealt with art, part time. Oliver just couldn't live without his precious art." Johnny said, poking fun at the green haired French boy.
"I'll have you know that art is a symbol of class and refinery, qualities you obviously don't have McGregor." Oliver retaliated.
"Hey! I'll have you know."
For the rest of the trip to the Stadium, the boys laughed and argued about Oliver's love of art, the murder moving further from their minds.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Okay, I don't own Beyblade. And this fic was inspired by some other fanfiction and an anime I read about: Weiß Kreuz, which I also don't own.