Chapter 9
The day of the battle dawned to the pale, drawn faces of the Bladebreakers. It would be a one on one battle, the fate of Kai, and the whole team, hanging in the balance. Over a few days, Kai's condition had gone rapidly downhill. He had about 2 days at most left. Tyson had been chosen to battle. Well, I say chosen. Everyone automatically knew that it had to be Tyson in the bey-stadium. He felt that Kai's coma was his fault, no matter what the Bladebreakers' had tried to tell him.
"Don't keep telling me it wasn't my fault! I should have stopped him!" he yelled at Garnet, when she had tried to console him.
They stepped into the bright stadium, wincing at how it could be this fine a day, when in a hospital in Prague, a boy was losing a battle with death. Voltaire stood next to his beybladers, smirking.
Kai opened his eyes. The water was pitch black, and he could feel the ominous presence of unseen creatures sidling up to him. A tear trickled from his eye that disappeared into the darkness. He had never been this lonely, even when he had lived at the abbey. This was new. Instead of feeling isolated in a crowd type of loneliness, he felt the hopeless type that you get when you're all alone and no-one knows you exist. He peered at himself. The ice had crept up both of his arms, and then started on his feet. It had crawled from his toes to the middle of his chest, just below his heart. He could see more ice crystals growing, sneaking up his chest. He lay there, just watching them grow. They reached his heart.
The nurse let herself into another pristine white room. What was the patient's name again? Oh, yes. It was Kai Hiwatari. She checked the heart-rate monitor. Normal, still deteriorating though. She frowned. She had never seen a disease like this before. She shrugged and turned. The heart-rate monitor suddenly went crazy. His heart was beating as normal one moment, the next beating like he was going mad with terror. She spun, shocked. The patient's face was screwed up in pain, still unconscious. She hit the alert button, calling the doctor.
"You decided to come then?" Voltaire asked, a smug leer still on his face.
He nudged forward one of the beybladers. He was a boy Tyson's age, with blonde hair to his shoulders, and dark green eyes. Garnet looked at him with uneasy fear. His eyes were totally blank. Like he had no emotions. Almost except Bryan, except that this boy didn't even have hate in him to make him seem human. He was a shell. Tyson noticed this too, and shuddered. How anyone could do that to a person without a shed of remorse was too disgusting to think about.
"I'm ready. Bring it on!" Tyson replied, utter hatred in his voice.
Garnet looked at him in distress. You couldn't imagine Tyson, the sweet, happy-go-lucky boy she knew, hating anyone that much. He would reap his revenge on Voltaire, she could see it clearly. The two beybladers stood at the edge of the bey-stadium.
"LET IT RIP!" they yelled simultaneously.
When the ice reached his heart, an explosion of pain erupted in his chest. It was like being ripped to shreds from the inside. A wordless cry left his mouth, an almost-animal sound of agony. The pain continued after his scream had petered out. His shocked brain sent him into unconsciousness. He didn't escape the torture in his dreams. What were normally long periods of nothingness, became hellish nightmares. He found himself in his grandfather's study. Across the desk stood Voltaire, holding a terrified Tyson by the wrist, a knife held to his throat. It glinted in the half-light dangerously.
"This is what happens to traitors," the nightmare Voltaire hissed.
"No. You wouldn't," he whispered, eyes widening in horror.
Voltaire sneered, and in one quick movement sliced the knife across Tyson's throat. Kai gasped and his eyes filled with tears as he watched Tyson's lifeless body fall to the floor. He started awake, salty tears streaming down his cheeks.
Dragoon landed heavily in the bey-stadium, streaking towards his opponent's beyblade. He crashed against it repeatedly, relentless in his furious attack. Kenny flipped his laptop open.
"Hey, Dizzi. Yes, before you ask, this time it is Voltaire and Boris," he said in a high voice.
"You're joking, right?" Dizzi asked in a slightly panicky voice.
"Nope," he replied, a deeply worried expression on his face. "How's Tyson faring?"
"He looks ok, but... something's not right," Dizzi answered after a while.
Tyson kept on attacking, his rage fuelling his assault. But his opponent didn't seem to be weakening. Instead, he seemed to be totally unaffected. Dizzi uttered a surprised yell.
"I understand now! Tyson is just wearing himself down, while his opponent leaves virtually unscathed," she squeaked, truly panicking now.
It was true. Tyson was panting now and beads of sweat were dripping slowly down his face. His opponent chose that time to attack. Voltaire smirked and nodded at another of his beybladers, a boy with dark blue hair and black eyes. The boy joined his team-mate at the bey-stadium, launching his own beyblade into the stadium. Tyson looked up, shock and hopeless anger in his eyes. Garnet felt her blood boil with rage. Two against one! She joined her friend at the bey-stadium, launching her beyblade into their losing battle. Tyson smiled at her.
"I came to this match expecting fair-play. I never thought I'd have to lend a hand," she whispered to him in an annoyed whisper.
"Hmmm. So, how are we going to do this?" he replied.
"They seem to know your moves inside out. That means you can't do anything without them predicting it!" she thought aloud, hopelessness ringing in her voice.
"But they don't know yours, do they?" he grinned.
"Ok, then. Do as I do," Garnet smirked.
Garnet circled the dish, picking up speed with every rotation. As Tyson followed suit, their opponents looked at their beyblades, confusion written across their faces. This wasn't one of Tyson's moves.
"Go!" Garnet yelled.
Her blade rapidly switched direction, dealing a glancing blow to each of her opponent's beyblades.
"Wow, your girlfriend might have a plan there, Kenny" Dizzi said admiringly.
Kenny smiled. Dizzi had been harping on for months about all her bad points. The battle progressed like this for a few minutes, Tyson and Garnet alternately dealing their opponents blows too fast to see. When they were beginning to wobble, Dragoon and Rose-whip (Garnet's beyblade) slammed into them, knocking them out of the stadium. Garnet stared at them for a moment before a slow grin spread across her face. Tyson walked to Voltaire, hate written all over his face.
"The antidote?" he asked in a scathing voice.
To his surprise, Voltaire started laughing. It chilled him to the bone. No wonder Kai had had trouble opening up to him, growing up in fear of this madman.
"You fool. There is no antidote," Voltaire cackled.
"WHAT!" they all cried.
MWUHAHA! CLIFFHANGER! I love using that trick, since I rarely use it in my normal writing. Please review, and don't kill me "hides behind swivel chair".