Hey everyone! I'm back with another chapter of Yume Kara Sameru. I'm so glad everyone liked this so much. I wasn't expected that much response. So, thanks everyone.
Thanks
Ko-chan
Kiina
Firehedgehog
B.B.G and Kenzy-Chan
Darkspider
I luv Yugi and Daisuke so :p
Virginia Choir
PinkDevil
Death stopper
asa-chan
Thanks to Shinigami29 for being my beta and putting up with me.
Warnings: Slash, first and foremost, but not in this chapter. Or the next, I don't think. But, slash will be here, eventually.
Please Note: Anything in Tyson's point of view from now until I say so, is Tyson's dream (nightmare) world. Anything in anyone else's point of view is the real world.
That's about it from me. Please enjoy, and review as well. Thanks,
Weeping Angel
Chapter 2
White. Tyson hated the colour white. It was just so… bland. Unfortunately, white was all he could see.
The room Tyson woke up in was decorated predominately in white. White walls, reminding Tyson of a hospital, a bed with white sheets and a spotless white blanket on it. Tyson had wanted to throttle something – or someone – when he woke up. But then, he found something even better – a blue, permanent texta.
By the time the door to the room opened, about forty-five minutes later, the walls were covered in texta, in strange coloured paintings of Dragoon. When the blue haired boy had discovered that his blade was missing, he had literally thrown a fit. But then he found the texta. Since he couldn't practice, he decided to draw pictures of Dragoon beating all of their opponents.
"Oh, Takao, not again!" said a familiar voice from behind him. The voice sounded exasperated.
Tyson turned, not at the name, but at the voice. "Ray!" he said, jumping to his feet and hugging the black-haired boy, not noticing the way the other flinched. "Ray, where are we?"
Ray sighed, reaching up and removing Tyson's hands from him. "Takao, we've been through this before. I don't know why you keep having to have it repeated to you."
"Takao?" Tyson looked at Ray, the smile on his face wavering as he took in Ray attire. The Chinese boy was dressed in a pair of white pants, with a pale blue shirt tucked into it. He wore white shoes that were a mix of sneakers and boots.
"No." Ray looked at Tyson like he was stupid. He pointed at himself with one of his hands, and said, "Ray." Next he lifted one of Tyson hands and pointed it at the blue haired boy, "Takao,"
"What?" Tyson asked, pulling away. "My name isn't Takao, it's Tyson!" He looked at Ray, who had a look of pity on his face.
"Takao, I know it hurts, but pretending won't bring Tyson back. You have to let him rest in peace. You know your brother wouldn't want you doing this to yourself."
"Ray, stop it. Stop messing with my head!" Tyson said, backing away. "My name is Tyson, not Takao, and I don't have a brother."
"Takao…"
"No! No, don't call me that!" Tyson said, placing his hands over his ears. "My name's Tyson Granger!" Suddenly, he looked up, looking Ray in the eye. "This is some kind of joke, isn't it? You're playing a joke on me! Alright everyone, you can come out now," he called out to the room, the words echoing. Nothing moved. Ray looked at Tyson, puzzled.
"Who are you talking to, Takao?"
"Would you stop calling me Takao?" Tyson demanded angrily.
"What do you want me to call you then?" Ray replied, his voice calm, though his eyes flashed with annoyance.
"You know what I want you to call me, Ray!" Tyson said, taking deep breaths. "Where are we?"
"Takao…"
"Humor me," Tyson snapped, "and don't call me Takao."
Ray sighed, but began to explain.
***
Kai looked around the empty bus slowly, looking for any clue as to where Tyson might have been taken. Anything, a footprint, mud that could be examined, anything. He knew it was pointless. The police had already been over the bus with a fine-toothed comb, and had picked up anything of interest. They were looking into the background of the man, Jacob, who Mr. Dickinson had hired. So far, there was no match on the man at all, but the search had only been going on for a small amount of time.
Kai clenched his fists angrily. It was taking too long. Kai knew, instinctively, who had taken his teammate. Voltaire. He would have been planning this for a while, perfecting his plan, but it was definitely the work of his grandfather.
Now they just needed to work out what Voltaire wanted with Tyson. Obviously, he didn't want to kill the teenager, or he would have already done it. So there must be some other reason.
But what?
***
Tyson felt like banging his head against the wall.
"I'm going insane…" he mumbled to himself in frustration. "Completely bonkers…"
"Takao?" called Ray, or the person who looked, sounded and acted like Ray, except it couldn't be him, because the Ray Tyson knew would never call him 'Takao'. "Takao, the doctor wants to see you now. She's asked that I bring you."
Tyson just glared at the Ray-look-alike, but after a few seconds, he nodded. Maybe this doctor would listen to him. He knew he wasn't insane, but…Tyson sighed. Some of what Ray had told him, things that Ray obviously believed to be true, had confused him.
First off, Beyblading had been banned as a public sport around 2 years ago, when Tyson's supposed brother had been murdered in the middle of a battle by a fanatical fan. The attacker was in love with his opponent, Kai. Tyson had been told that he, Takao, had been distraught after his brother's death. He had been admitted to the psychiatric ward of the hospital he was in now. Then, when his brother's will had been read, and he had received Dragoon, the bit beast had sent him spiraling into madness. The doctors had been forced to take Dragoon from him in an attempt to save his own sanity. According to the reports that Ray's look alike had let him read, he resided in his own world, where he didn't have a brother. According to that twisted logic, if he didn't have a brother, then that said brother couldn't die.
Add to that, someone was still trying to take over the world.
At least some things were still the same, Tyson thought wirly.
Tyson rose and followed Ray out of the room, letting the Chinese boy lead him down the hallways. After a couple of minutes, they stopped. Tyson looked around confused, before looking at Ray.
"And we're where?" he asked.
"We're here," Ray said, knocking on an area of wall.
Another familiar voice called from inside, telling them to come in, and Ray pushed on the wall, which moved to reveal a room. Tyson looked in shock at the area of wall, which had turned out to be a door, before Ray pushed him inside, and the door closed behind him.
Shaken, Tyson turned to look at the door. The wall, like the whole building Tyson had seen, was white. The only thing that marked it as a door was the small handle on the side.
"Takao, please take your seat."
Tyson spun around at the voice and his eyes bulged.
"YOU?"
"Yes, Takao?" Emily replied, peering at Tyson through her glasses.
"Don't call me Takao," Tyson snapped, feeling like a broken record. The amount of times he had said that to Ray over the morning. "It's not my name."
"Very well. I will not call you Takao," Emily said. Tyson looked at her suspiciously.
"On what conditions?" he asked.
"No conditions. You asked, remember," she replied, with a smile.
"Em-" Tyson began, but thought better of it. He didn't know how Emily would react to him using her first name, when she was supposed to be a person in authority, "So, what will you call me then?" he asked.
"I don't know. What do you think your name is, if it's not Takao?"
"My name is Tyson," the blue haired blader grounded out, "but no one seems to believe me."
"Well, that's because it's says on your birth certificate: 'Takao Kinomiya'," Emily said.
"Kinomiya?" Tyson repeated.
"Yes, that's right."
"Nuh huh!" Tyson protested. "I don't know who you think I am, but my name is Tyson Granger."
There was a silence in the room for almost an entire minute before Tyson spoke again.
"So…. Can I have Dragoon back?"
***
"Status?" A voice called out into the brightly lit room. Immediately, all movement stopped.
"Sir!" one of the people in the room, a man with grey streaking the sides of his dark brown hair called out in greeting. The man, like all the others in the room wore a white lab coat.
Another man, this one with a presence that screamed authority, nodded back in greeting. "Tell me how my boy is doing. When will he be ready?"
"Sir, the patient is very willful. We have not made much progress yet, but it is still early. I estimate he will be ready in two to three months," the brown haired man answered.
"That is too long. Step up the treatment. I want him ready in one month. No more."
"Yes sir," the brown haired man replied. He turned to one of the other researchers in the room. "Collins!" he barked out, "prep the patient for stage two!"
In the middle of the room, a blue haired boy lay on a table. Wires and tubes invaded his body, feeding him both nutrients and lies, and his face was scrunched up in what looked like pain. Straps fell tight over his torso and legs, binding his body to the makeshift bed. His once vibrant blue eyes were open, but unseeing; blank orbs of something once used for sight. He tossed slightly, unable to move. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly, but no sound was heard. He was trapped in his own mind, in a nightmare he couldn't wake up from.
Voltaire smiled.