The New Generation

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Evan had woke up far earlier than his jubilant friend, who was probably muttering something about beating Bradley in his sleep right now. The Asian boy found the quiet hues and softness of mornings to be quite conducive to his meditative thinking, aside from being extremely relaxing. But for him to contemplate properly, it was only fitting for Evan to be hanging around the most desolate room in the entire compound that was St. Joseph's Center for Children, the basement.

He stretched his thin and somewhat underused arms and began rotating his now painted beyblade with deft fingers, talented brown eyes scouring every inch of the top for faults. Not many important ones were spotted though and Evan smiled, satisfied. His blade was now coated in a fairly morbid motif, with jagged black stripes streaking across the white likes lightning bolts and cobalt lines skittered across the raven edges. He had patterned it after his favorite poet, Edgar Allen Poe, and Evan believed that it captured the dark emotions his verses suggested perfectly. In particular, the one about the "prophet of death", the Raven.

"Evan! It's almost time for the tournament qualifying round! Hurry up and come up here!" Sister Anna called up from the upper floors.

He groaned, not bothering to shout a reply. Evan didn't want to strain his voice. His vocal chords were more suited for reciting classical prose, not yelling some petty response. Either way, he picked up his deathly beyblade and pocketed it in one swift motion. No need to waste time as well.

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Mr. Dickinson was briefing Bradley, who was a bit over-excited, when Evan had gotten upstairs. Bradley had trained for the past week with Evan and was considerably psyched for this battle. Evan had to admit Bradley had become quite adept at controlling Altiel and had a few new techniques primed and ready in his arsenal of moves. It was no surprise Evan, with no bitbeast, had lost almost every single practice match against Brad. Almost.

"Ah! Evan, you've finally come!" Mr. Dickinson said in his favorite jolly voice, addressing the approaching Asian teenager.

"Yes sir."

Evan then nodded in the general direction of his friend, who was running a few last minute checks on his now half-white, half-cobalt beyblade. The blonde adolescent was definitely prepared for combat now.

"Hey, man! This is it! Our shot at the bit time!" Bradley, enthusiasm lighting up his facial features, remarked.

"...Let's make sure our shot's accurate then, Brad."

Bradley laughed optimistically and held up his left hand, which was clutching his pallid beyblade.

"Don't worry, man! There's no way we're going to lose this. Right?"

"I hope you're right."

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Bradley and Evan, accompanied by both Father Matthew and the excited Mr. Dickinson, stepped into the beyblading tournament arena that the organizers Mr. Dickinson had hired had spruced up and readied for battles on a massive scale. Bradley's voice suddenly escaped him and he drew in a sharp breath as he peered at the fully decked arena, which included chintzy seats, benches for teams and every other essential appliance for the sport. Teenage beybladers mingled with each other in the holding area, discussing strategies and swapping parts as to get an idea of what they would be facing. Some of the more serious ones were purchasing new parts for their blades at the BBA sponsored stall that was set up nearby Bradley and company.

"Do you like our arrangements? My team did a good job of fixing up this place in one week, eh?

Mr. Dickinson inquired and a drop of sweat slipped down Father Matthew's head. The priest shook his head in disbelief and focused his attention on the awestruck orphans he had brought here. The shock of taking all of this in very quickly had not worn off yet, apparently. He smiled and messed up the hair of both of his wards in a supportive way and stared blankly at the sea of young men and women who had gathered here.

"So, Evan, Bradley, are you two ready for this? You can still pull out, you know."

The overzealous blonde looked highly offended for a second but then changed his expression into one of pure, unadulterated excitement.

"Yeah! I've practiced so long for this and I'm not going to get cold feet now!"

"That's good to hear. This tournament wouldn't be worth it if I couldn't drive you into the ground."

Bradley spun around and came face to face with Colin Drake and his entourage of giggling fans, which the former noticed had shrunk in size considerably. I guess many of them had been turned off by the fact a rank amateur had kicked his butt into the next dimension. With the help of his bitbeast, Altiel, of course.

Colin smirked at his blonde rival and folded his arms across his chest, clutching his obviously upgraded beyblade in his right hand. Bradley's eyes narrowed and he quickly ran a mental examination of the russet-haired boy's blade. The attack ring had gotten considerably larger and the material of the weight disk had evidently been replaced.

"Your beyblade looks a lot heavier." Evan commented.

"You're a pretty smart guy. Yeah, I modified it so I could tilt the offense-defense ratio in favor of all-out attack."

"That would make the beyblade unbalanced and nearly impossible to launch. A heavy disk would make your blade collapse under it's own weight."

"Again, you are perfectly correct. However, I also wrapped highly magnetic strips coated with a thin layer of iron near the base of the beyblade. The extreme pull of the bands cause magnetic currents to rotate around my beyblade, thus making it spin faster and longer with less physical effort."

"...That eliminates the weight problem as well, as the magnetic flow would indelibly create an upward force to be exerted on your blade."

Colin raised an eyebrow, clearly amazed by this twelve-year old child's knowledge of science. This Evan was definitely a force to be reckoned with himself. After all, not many people older than him understood the method behind the madness that is his beyblade construction.

Quite understandably, Bradley was beginning to feel left out of this conversation.

"Er, yeah. Okay, Colin, we'll see you a little bit later, all right? We better get prepared for the games and all..." Bradley interrupted, smiling sheepishly and dragging a stone-faced Evan away from Colin.

"Whoa, Evan! Are you sure you don't EAT those physics books of yours?"

"Of course not. That would be highly illogical and tremendously hazardous to my physical well-being."

"I meant... Oh, never mind... Let's go to the waiting area..."

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"Hey, hey, hey! Welcome to the Blue Knight Regional Tournament qualifying round! Yo people, this is DJ Sandman!"

"And this is Joe Spinner, your two commentators for this competition!"

"Now, may the young upstarts down in the waiting are proceed to their designated stations! Make sure you all don't get stuck in the wrong batch by mistake!"

"Yeah! As you guys can see, these young kids are being separated into four groups: Groups A, B, C and D! This was done to sift out the weak from the strong and draw out the best among this enormous field of beybladers!"

Bradley looked up at the box where the two energetic hosts were chatting animatedly and continued to walk in the general direction of the station for Group B. He had witnessed Colin striding off to Group A and his Asian buddy, Evan, heading straight for Group D. The blonde European had overheard something about the winner of Group B facing off with the respective champion of Group D and had hoped he and Evan would be those two. Of course, if in the unlikely event that would happen, he would make sure he would beat his tan-skinned ally. Then he would move on to the final and most crucial battle against the victor of the A and C match. He figured that would be Colin. But he still had nagging doubt in his mind, as there happened to be some guy in Group C who had been a champion before but had only recently returned to the beyblading scene.

"So, now that we're done with all those trivial formalities, shall we move on to the games?"

A roar of approval surged through the crowd in the stands.

"You hear that, DJ? Looks like we're ready to open the cages and loose the beasts below! Let's get this party started, man!"

Evan recited a short prayer for guidance and opened his eyes, staring at the dozens of kids who now had their launchers aimed at the giant dish prepared for this onslaught of beyblades. There was no turning back now. And there definitely was no losing to be done either. The Asian clamped his beyblade onto his spring-loaded launcher and glared, steely-eyed and poker-faced, at the quite visibly nervous opponents before him. Bitbeast or not, Evan would give more than his very best.

~Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of Yore.

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he,

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-

Perched, and sat, and nothing more~

-Edgar Allen Poe, "The Raven"

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End of Chapter

This is an easy question! I'll give you peeps one chance each to guess what Evan's bitbeast is!