Blah, tis my first fic, hope you enjoy it.
Yah, for a bit, you're going to see????'s POV for a bit, but that'll be answered in this chappie.
I own my OC, but I don't own Beyblade, though I wish I did!!
????? 'S POV
I woke up in the dark alley I was so accustomed to and looked down the alley to the well-lit street. It was only 6am in downtown Moscow, Russia, but the streets were already filling with people waiting for the shops to open. I stood up and walked down the filth-ridden alley and into the fresh air of the open streets. The crisp winter air filled my lungs as I opened my eyes and looked around for the first time this morning, taking in the surroundings. The multicoloured lights trimmed the stores and wreaths were hanging on doors. How could I have forgotten? It was Christmas, well...seven days before Christmas. It's too bad I don't have family to celebrate with. My parents died in a car accident when I was ten, and I was sent to an orphanage after my only relatives spent all of the money left to me in less than a year.
Back at the orphanage about five years ago, I was only 11 years old, and my first day was hell. I was made fun of, laughed at, teased, and was physically beaten by the others, but I was always blamed, even if there was only a single, small scratch on the one trying to fight me. The adults turned their noses away and never made eye-to-eye contact with me, making me feel more neglected. No one cared for me, for all I know, I never existed. I excelled in my short lessons, which made the other kids hate me even more, but they got the last laugh when they got adopted and I didn't. When I turned 16, they kicked me out of the orphanage and told me I could fend for myself, and that I was old enough for a proper job. No one there ever addressed me with my proper name...not that I can even remember what it is. The only thing that is constantly fresh in my mind is the last 7 horrible years of my life.
Being 18, you think I could actually get a job, but that's all wrong. Jobs are scarce in Moscow, as with paying managers. For one year of my life, I had made my life as a pickpocket, until they took me in...
"Why are we out here so damn early!" A whiney voice cried out, breaking my trail of thought.
"God. It's 6:20am, it's not early..." A more intelligent voice replied.
"Maybe not for you..."
"Stop complaining!" a female voice hissed.
Whiney brat. I watched the group of five look around like they had no idea where they were going, as with many tourists at this time of year. By the looks of it, they weren't too well dressed for the weather, but what's that got to do with me? I walked passed them, keeping my eyes to the ground. I think one of them looked back at me, but I didn't care. The cold wind cut at my face, sending a chill up my spine. I pulled my raggedy trench coat closer to myself and walked onwards, and into one of the darkest alleys of the city.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Where have you been?" the deep, harsh voice demanded. "You're late."
"Keep your pants on, I'm not late."
"You are so."
Who does Ashton think he is? My boss? Okay, so he is, but I don't listen to his mindless gibbering. Ashton is my boss, given to me by the little group I work for. I have no idea what the group is called, or even what they do, but lowly servants that do their bidding, just like me, are not uncommon. They do mindless tasks as simple as going to get their bosses something to eat, or something as complicated as murder.
"Would you just listen?" Ashton said. "You have a new assignment."
"What now?" I asked. "Do you want me to fetch you some food? Or even your slippers?" I laughed.
"Not funny."
"Well, what is it then?"
He held up a newspaper clipping from yesterday's paper, showing a valuable painting of some sort.
"According to the paper, it just came to the museum last night, and it's only here for a week." Ashton explained. "I want you to get into the museum and steal this painting, you have one week. But be careful, security is extremely tight. "
"Fine." I said as I started to walk away.
I stopped and turned around.
"But...but it's Christmas in one week..." I mumbled.
"So?" Ashton coldly replied. "Now get started."
Ashton walked away, his coat fluttering in the wind. Those red eyes...they scare me...and to think I loved him at one time. That was behind me. That was all in the past. The past didn't matter anymore, only the present, and the future mattered.
"One week..." I sighed.
I climbed onto the roof of my favourite building and looked at the sun rising over the frostbitten buildings of Moscow, causing them to be bathed in pink and orange light. Looking at the city at this time everyday made me say to myself that I have to cut my ties to that group, but I can't...
Where would I go?
Review please! Suggestions and junk that is all good!! And yah, it seems to be in the wrong category, but the first bit of dialogue was some of the Beyblade charries, their names just weren't mentioned!!
Yah, for a bit, you're going to see????'s POV for a bit, but that'll be answered in this chappie.
I own my OC, but I don't own Beyblade, though I wish I did!!
????? 'S POV
I woke up in the dark alley I was so accustomed to and looked down the alley to the well-lit street. It was only 6am in downtown Moscow, Russia, but the streets were already filling with people waiting for the shops to open. I stood up and walked down the filth-ridden alley and into the fresh air of the open streets. The crisp winter air filled my lungs as I opened my eyes and looked around for the first time this morning, taking in the surroundings. The multicoloured lights trimmed the stores and wreaths were hanging on doors. How could I have forgotten? It was Christmas, well...seven days before Christmas. It's too bad I don't have family to celebrate with. My parents died in a car accident when I was ten, and I was sent to an orphanage after my only relatives spent all of the money left to me in less than a year.
Back at the orphanage about five years ago, I was only 11 years old, and my first day was hell. I was made fun of, laughed at, teased, and was physically beaten by the others, but I was always blamed, even if there was only a single, small scratch on the one trying to fight me. The adults turned their noses away and never made eye-to-eye contact with me, making me feel more neglected. No one cared for me, for all I know, I never existed. I excelled in my short lessons, which made the other kids hate me even more, but they got the last laugh when they got adopted and I didn't. When I turned 16, they kicked me out of the orphanage and told me I could fend for myself, and that I was old enough for a proper job. No one there ever addressed me with my proper name...not that I can even remember what it is. The only thing that is constantly fresh in my mind is the last 7 horrible years of my life.
Being 18, you think I could actually get a job, but that's all wrong. Jobs are scarce in Moscow, as with paying managers. For one year of my life, I had made my life as a pickpocket, until they took me in...
"Why are we out here so damn early!" A whiney voice cried out, breaking my trail of thought.
"God. It's 6:20am, it's not early..." A more intelligent voice replied.
"Maybe not for you..."
"Stop complaining!" a female voice hissed.
Whiney brat. I watched the group of five look around like they had no idea where they were going, as with many tourists at this time of year. By the looks of it, they weren't too well dressed for the weather, but what's that got to do with me? I walked passed them, keeping my eyes to the ground. I think one of them looked back at me, but I didn't care. The cold wind cut at my face, sending a chill up my spine. I pulled my raggedy trench coat closer to myself and walked onwards, and into one of the darkest alleys of the city.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Where have you been?" the deep, harsh voice demanded. "You're late."
"Keep your pants on, I'm not late."
"You are so."
Who does Ashton think he is? My boss? Okay, so he is, but I don't listen to his mindless gibbering. Ashton is my boss, given to me by the little group I work for. I have no idea what the group is called, or even what they do, but lowly servants that do their bidding, just like me, are not uncommon. They do mindless tasks as simple as going to get their bosses something to eat, or something as complicated as murder.
"Would you just listen?" Ashton said. "You have a new assignment."
"What now?" I asked. "Do you want me to fetch you some food? Or even your slippers?" I laughed.
"Not funny."
"Well, what is it then?"
He held up a newspaper clipping from yesterday's paper, showing a valuable painting of some sort.
"According to the paper, it just came to the museum last night, and it's only here for a week." Ashton explained. "I want you to get into the museum and steal this painting, you have one week. But be careful, security is extremely tight. "
"Fine." I said as I started to walk away.
I stopped and turned around.
"But...but it's Christmas in one week..." I mumbled.
"So?" Ashton coldly replied. "Now get started."
Ashton walked away, his coat fluttering in the wind. Those red eyes...they scare me...and to think I loved him at one time. That was behind me. That was all in the past. The past didn't matter anymore, only the present, and the future mattered.
"One week..." I sighed.
I climbed onto the roof of my favourite building and looked at the sun rising over the frostbitten buildings of Moscow, causing them to be bathed in pink and orange light. Looking at the city at this time everyday made me say to myself that I have to cut my ties to that group, but I can't...
Where would I go?
Review please! Suggestions and junk that is all good!! And yah, it seems to be in the wrong category, but the first bit of dialogue was some of the Beyblade charries, their names just weren't mentioned!!