storm-of-insanity: Yeah, don't know many people that like spiders…. My favorite D Boys are Ian and Tala. Bryan's…evil. I don't know why so many people like him either…but I think people change him in fics and stuff to make him suit their liking. (Not all fics, mind.) Matter of fact, I'm not sure how in-character I made him, sigh.Thanks for sharing your opinion. :D
ghostymangarocker: No, no, you didn't creep me out at all! Sorry if it sounded that way! And yes, I think it's cool that the chapters linked too, I find that sorta difficult. :D Yay, original….
Chibi-Lothlen: Thank you for all the advice and stuff. I suppose it makes sense if Tala was a test-tube baby, oh well, I never thought of that. I really do appreciate your thoughts there, but I like the style this is written in, with the flashbacks and POV-switching, so I'm leaving as is, I'm sorry if you mind.
krage: Gee, thanks for ze compliments. :) I'm glad you like the style.
Blood of the Wolf: LOL:) Yeah…calm. snickersnicker I am terrified of spiders. Even dead ones freak me out. sweatdrop I am enjoying, thank you.
carzla: Ne, thank you! Another person who doesn't like the flashbacks thing? Oh well…I'm sorry, I like the way I wrote this, the flashbacks are staying as is. And about Tala…er…sorry, I tried. :) Thanks for the constructive criticism though, I very much appreciate it.
Shadowy Bey-gurl: Yayfulness!
aries1391: Thankies. :) Yeah, I don't know how I wrote that about making him smash it with his head, if that happened to me, I'd probably have a panic attack…. And the spiders are most likely out to get us all…as is my evil porcupine army. :)
Tala's-Soul: Yes, I know that pain too. T T
Thanks for all the kind reviews, people! I amazed with how many I'm getting. :)
And last weekend was my due update time, so sorry this is seven days late. Next time, I'll really try to update on my set time!
Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade; it belongs to Aoki Takao. I guess I own Bryan's mother, not that she has a name or a description or anything…. XD
Start Chapter Three:
The Humanoid Robot
Bryan's POV
"Twenty more push-ups!"
"Yessir…."
Sweat beaded down my face as I dropped to the ground to carry out Boris's order….
This was the part of being trained at Balkov Abbey that was horrible—all the physical strains.
Usually, when an Abbey student suffered the ultimate humiliation of defeat, they were thrown out onto the streets, back into their grimy families. But Tala, Spencer, Ian, and I…we were different. Being part of the team truly had its perks…we didn't get kicked out of the Abbey after making the worst of mistakes and losing a beybattle. Instead, we were to endure strenuous physical training…more strenuous than usual, I should say.
So, after losing to that bratty, inept, little kitty-boy, I had to push myself to my limits in Boris's training session.
After I had finished push-up twenty, I barely resisted the urge to collapse onto the ground: My arm muscles were giving out.
"Alright…that's enough. For now, anyway," Boris stated. "Tomorrow, we will continue this training. For now, join Spencer and Ian in your dormitory. Dismissed."
My mentor proceeded to leave a bottle of water next to me, and he swept from the room, not sparing me another glance.
I seized the water bottle and literally crawled over to the nearest wall, where I propped myself up against it, head spinning with water intake—or lack thereof. For a few precious, relieving moments, I sipped clean water, my eyes closed in an attempt to relax.
In time, I pulled myself up, and continued sipping water as I wandered out of the room and down many hallways, trying to catch my breath. I'm not even sure how I managed to move: Exhaustion was squeezing the air from my lungs and exertion was causing my body to ache.
And the dim, bland corridors weren't exactly improving my mood.
'The interior decorators of this place must have been keeping in mind that we were to be rid of useless positive emotions. So they created this dismal environment to weigh our spirits down. A good tactic, actually.'
Halfway back to my room, I leaned against a cool stone wall, sighing, and sipped more water.
'Boris only mentioned Ian and Spencer being in our dormitory. Tala should be there, by all means, they aren't going to deprive a good soldier of sleep before his most significant battle….'
I scowled, gazing absently at the ceiling.
'Boris must have his reasons, I suppose. He does know what's best for us…after all, he trained us. Took all of us societal rejects in and transformed us into warriors.'
Societal rejects…that's precisely what the Demolition Boys were. We each had rough lives before coming here….
Children are born with purity and innocence. The purity is soon tainted by the corruption and sin created by the child's predecessors. The innocence is shed as age morphs the soul. All four of us lost our purity and innocence much too soon.
Me myself…I was born innocent like any other child. But life, inevitably, stripped it away by throwing me into a dysfunctional family. Life showed me what it is to suffer, what it is to starve, what it is to cry...all much too early. Then life tore me away from all that familiar misery, and forced me to become a soldier. And I believed that I not only was a soldier for Boris and Voltaire in the bey-arena, but also a soldier against life itself, against everything life brought me.
Therefore, I suppose I blamed all my suffering on life. And life can be blamed on my wretched parents….
Everyone seemed to think of me as nothing more than brooding, mysterious, malicious, and perhaps…insane. But they didn't know what life did to me. What right have they to judge? Life gave me to my parents, who truly did not have any purpose or goal.
General POV: Flashback
A child of just less than four years sat alone in the corner of a small kitchen. He sniffled, swiping a tear off his pale, dirty cheek. For the umpteenth time in the last hour, his stomach rumbled impatiently.
A young woman—probably only twenty—staggered into the kitchen, a large bruise swelling her eye closed, cursing loudly. She kicked the nearest dilapidated chair, causing it to crash to the ground.
Gulping in intimidation, the little boy mumbled, "Mama?"
The lady sent her child a spine-tingling glower. "What is it now, Bryan?"
The lavender-haired little boy sniffled again.
"What is it, Bryan?"
Bryan clutched his abdomen as it rumbled again, and muttered, "I'm hungry…."
"Too bad!" shrieked the woman, storming over to the kitchen table. "We don't have any food! You know why?"
The little boy remained silent, tears slowly making their way down his cheeks.
"You're father quit another job! Two months ago! Did he tell me? No! 'Why aren't we getting income, dear?' 'I quit my job.' To Hell with him!"
The purple-haired young lady lost herself in her rant, plopping down on a chair and taking a swig of the half-empty bottle of liquor upon the wood.
Again, the little boy's stomach growled. More tears leaked from Bryan's eyes, and he quickly wiped them away, recalling how his father had hit him once before for crying.
Bryan tentatively
tottered forward, and clasped his hands on his mother's leg.
"Mama?"
"What?" she snarled angrily, taking a sip of the alcohol.
Bryan blinked, unsure what to say. He was hungry, his mother had just denied him food…but he was determined to press on. "I'm…hungry…."
"Were you not listening? I just said we don't have food!"
Bryan nodded, clinging tighter to his mother's pant leg. His stomach rumbled again, and he couldn't stop the tears from flowing. He sobbed for a few minutes into his mother, hoping against everything he knew that she would pick him up lovingly, cradle him, and feed him.
But no such thing happened…on the contrary, she flat-out disregarded his presence.
Bryan's POV: End flashback
'That's enough of that happy reminiscing….'
xXx
'Ian is so pathetic.'
So true. Not only was he afraid of spiders (of all things) but he made no effort to hide it. Little idiot. At least it was fun to toy with his fear; laughing, though, causes my lungs to ache.
No one in this miserable world—outside of my team, anyway—seemed to think I had feelings. Of course I did, bunch of dolts. It would be mentally impossible to block every feeling…though I am dangerously close to doing so. I grew up uncaring, though Tala, Ian, and Spencer had influenced me otherwise—they liked to consider me part of their little 'family', and if my opinion weren't so swayed at believing my mentor, perhaps I would have mulled over this concept.
Though…long ago I did.
The point I'm trying to make is that…injuring Ian emotionally the way I had with his little fear of spiders (which, I hate to admit, Spencer was right about) made me feel the tiniest pang of guilt.
So I glanced over in his direction, to find his eyes closed. Upon further examination, I discovered he wasn't sleeping: His breathing patterns told me so. But there was no way on Earth or in Hell I was going to apologize—he could handle it.
"Something on your mind, Bryan?" came Spencer's remotely interested voice. I shifted my gaze to him.
Suddenly, my exhaustion seemed to come to its worst: Finally taking effect, I suppose. Disregarding Spencer's question, I rolled onto my side so I could face Tala's empty bed, and tried in vain to catch some sleep; it kept slipping through my fingers.
A serene silence palled our dormitory, and seemed to be goading me into the world of sleep. Just as I began dozing off in the pleasant noiselessness, the creaking of our door could be heard. My assumption was proved correct when I heard Ian mumble, "Tala? Where have you been?"
There was no reply from our captain, not that I cared: I was feeling rather irritable, though tiredness was keeping my mouth shut.
"Something wrong?" said the distant voice of Spencer.
I heard the door swish shut and Tala's mattress squeak.
"Tala? Where were you?" Ian repeated.
Again, a silence descended, though I believe this one was tenser.
"Tala. Answer us already," Ian firmly stated.
"What, precisely, do you require me to say, Ian?"
The silence was definitely strange this time.
"Where did you go?" our shortest member inquired, conviction apparently not waning.
"Boris called for me…. My transformation into the perfect soldier is now completed. Tomorrow, my victory against that worthless brat is guaranteed."
"…What?"
"It's too complex for you to comprehend, I imagine."
"What?" This time, Ian seemed offended. I heard him leap off his bed.
'This is getting interesting….'
I opened my eyes to see Tala, seated on his bed with straight posture and icy, blank eyes.
'Something…just seems…different about him….'
I slowly sat up, ogling my teammates with my usual impassive stare, bidding my breath to come noiselessly.
Tala shrugged. "I'm not sure how much your formal education has paid off. If you're not informed enough in genetics, you surely won't be able to understand what my body and brain have undergone."
For once, Ian didn't seem to mind displaying his emotions: He appeared rather confused, with declining confidence…and perhaps a little hurt. "Spit it out, Tala, I understand genetics just fine."
With a half-shrug, Tala began blabbering about some 'cyborg' mumbo-jumbo.
Me myself, I never really gave a care about the education in the Abbey…moreover, just the beyblading. Not that I'm uneducated or dull-witted. But I comprehended Tala's words fairly well…I understood enough, anyway, to fathom what changes his body had experienced.
We were all silent for a few moments, the only noise in our entire dormitory being Tala's mattress creaking as he settled down for the night.
"Seems Tala's become a robot, just like you, Bryan," muttered Ian heatedly, glaring at both of us as he slumped—solemn look upon his features—into his bedding.
'A robot…?'
General POV: Flashback
"Bryan! How could you do this?"
The lavender-haired child shrugged indifferently, apparently not caring that he had shown less-than-mercy to his teammate in their beybattle.
"You utilized Falborg to injure Spencer! You failed to display any sort of human compassion for your own friend!" Tala continued with his harsh lecture to Bryan, hoping to make some impact in the troubled eleven-year-old's mentality.
"Who are you kidding, Tala?" piped up Ian as he studied some of Spencer's wind-induced cuts carefully. "Bryan doesn't even know what compassion is! And he's far from human. In fact, the scientists oughta just turn him into a robot, with the way his heart is emotionless and cold. Oh, what am I saying? He doesn't have a heart."
Bryan glowered at his short companion.
"Silence, Ian!" commanded Tala irritably, sending a 'don't-meddle-in-my-affairs' look his way.
Scowling, Ian discounted him and Bryan, and carried on aiding his large teammate.
"Bryan, why have you neglected any care you ever housed for us?" persisted Tala.
"Emotions are weak, Tala, and you know as much. Caring for you all will do me no good," Bryan finally muttered with conviction.
"This is your own teammate, your own friend we're talking about! Emotions might prove useless, but surely you can muster some compassion for us?"
"I have no 'friends', Tala. Stop lecturing me and mind your own business."
"Your business is mine—I am your team captain, meaning I must attend to your…flaws."
"Flaws?" Bryan snorted, crossing his arms defiantly. "In this matter, I display no flaws! I am simply listening to our mentor."
"How so?"
"Boris has introduced me to this life, has taught me to become a soldier. I am sticking to those ideals, understand, Tala? Boris told me emotions are weak, and I have come to realize that is the truth!"
"Give it up, Tala," Ian persevered. "Bryan has become nothing more than a robot. He doesn't have any feelings and doesn't care that he doesn't."
The adolescent-in-question glared hard at Ian, but couldn't help wonder unintentionally if this statement was true.
Bryan's POV: End flashback
"I am not a robot, Ian," Tala corrected from the bed next to me in the same monotonous tone he had been using. "I am a soldier, a cyborg. And I still very well have feelings."
The purple-haired kid snorted. "Doubt it."
"Stop acting so childish!" Tala snapped.
"Hmpf."
Somewhat less tense silence descended, until it was broken by Spencer.
"So you're going to win it for us tomorrow?"
"Certainly."
As I closed my eyes, exhaustedly bidding sleep to come, an anxiousness clenched my heart.
'Tomorrow…the Championships…Voltaire and Boris's dream will be fulfilled by Tala. What will life become? … No point in thinking about it…whatever happens, happens. Tala said he's going to win, and he does what he says. …
But…I just can't shake the thought of…Ian's words. Have I morphed into something resembling a robot? Perhaps…I've become something more than a soldier…something feared and despised, with no feelings or friends... It's certain, then, that I no longer have a life worth leading…if you can even call this messed-up mistake a life. …
I am the precise definition of a humanoid robot.'
:End Chapter Three
Chapter three is done…meaning the fic is close to its end. Oh the sorrow. …Sorta.
With this chapter, I don't think I kept them in-character, so sorry if I didn't. Please tell me how I did with that.
At any rate, thank you for reading. Please review!
have a nice day
CyborgRockStar
