A/N: Yay! The next chapter!
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A stewardess walked along the corridor, making sure everything was in order. As she was walking, a blond boy in a green shirt shot past her, panting, followed by a navy-haired boy and another blond with caps. She stared at them, seeing them skid around a corner and disappear. Then, she continued walking.
The next thing out of ordinary that she heard was a muffled banging. It was coming from the broom closet. She looked at it in surprise, when suddenly, the door burst off its hinges and an angry-looking passenger stepped out. His slate hair was disheveled and one end of his scarf was trailing on the ground. His crimson eyes were angry. He dusted his hands together, looking around. The stewardess just stared at him in shock.
As he caught sight of her, he walked over to her and said, "Excuse me, did three people my age just run past? One was blue haired, the others were blond."
"Sir," said the stewardess, gathering herself. You could have done serious damage."
"Oh, that," he replied in a bored voice, digging in his pocket. He took out a wad of notes and handed them to her. "You fix that. I've got something to take care of." He walked away.
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Max, Tyson and Michael were in the ship's kitchen. The cook was a jovial, kind hearted man and with Max and Tyson's friendly personalities and Michael's enthusiastic one, he had been easily persuaded to let them hide in the kitchen.
"What's this?" asked Tyson curiously, lifting the lid off a pot. "Yum, soup!"
"Yes, it's for dinner today," beamed the cook. "Here…" He ladled out soup into three bowls and handed it to the three pranksters. Then, one of the assistant cooks came running up and whispered something in his ear.
"You must leave!" said the cook urgently to the boys. "That friend of yours… Kai, no? He is coming this way."
"Oh, crud!" said Michael, getting up at once.
"You go hide in the bridge," said the man. "I talk to the captain at once!"
The three of them ran towards the bridge.
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In the bridge, the captain and first mate stood over a map. "When we stop here," said the captain, pointing at a point on the map, "We have to have it repaired."
"Sir," said the first mate, saluting with two fingers. Just then, three boys burst in with bowls of soup ion their hands.
"Ah," said the captain, straightening up. "You must be those three boys the cook was talking about. I don't know what you did to him, but he sure does like you. You may sit there, and please don't disturb us."
As the two continued their hushed conversation, Michael asked Tyson, "How long does it usually take Kai to cool down?"
"Kai?" said Tyson cheerfully. "Oh, he doesn't until he has his revenge. We'll have to face the music some time or the other."
"You idiot!" said Michael. "Why not just face it right now?" Standing up, he dragged Tyson by the ear down to the deck. Max followed. There, they ran into Kai.
"It wasn't me, I swear it!" said Max, backing away.
"It was Tyson's idea!" said Michael.
Kai looked at all three of them. "I'll let it go this time," he said. "But there had better not be a next time."
Max perked up, Tyson stopped cowering and Michael's jaw dropped. "Thanks dude!" exclaimed Tyson, grinning. "Now, do you know the chef?" Slinging one arm around Max's shoulder and the other around Kai's, he walked off with them in the direction of the kitchen, chattering animatedly about the chef and his cooking.
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"Attention all passengers," the captain's voice blared over a megaphone. "During the storm a slight amount of damage was done to the ship. It was nothing serious, but at our next scheduled stop, at Russia, we will stop for a full week instead of the usual 48 hours in order to have repairs done. Hotel rooms will be booked for passengers at the ship's expense. We apologize for the delay. This means that the cruise will reach back to its original destination, Japan, several days late."
"You know what that means!" said Max, bursting into the living room. "We'll be spending Christmas on board."
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The hotel was a luxurious, five star one, and there were four people to each suite of rooms. After they had settled in, they all went their separate ways, some going shopping, some sightseeing, and some just staying back in their rooms.
Julia went out for a walk. She wanted to see if there were any local bladers she could match. While wandering down the streets, she turned into a dark alley. It turned out to be a dead end. As she turned around to walk back, she found herself surrounded by a bunch of thick, bulky men in their early 20s. Backing against the wall, she took out her beyblade with shaking hands and said, "I'm not afraid to use it."
To her horror, each of the men took out beyblades of their own, and the one in front said, "Neither are we."
Julia was about to launch her beyblade when a delicate looking hand with long, slender fingers snatched it out of her hands. "I'll take that," said a masculine voice. A young man, looking nineteen years of age, dropped from the roof of the building above her right in front of her. He had long, straight green hair, falling over his face, and glittering green eyes. He was very tall, and not nearly as bulky as his cronies. He was obviously the leader. There was no denying he was one of the most handsome boys Julia had ever seen.
With a flourish, he bowed to Julia. "We welcome you to Russia," he said courteously. There was a bit of sniggering behind him from his men.
"You jerk!" said Julia angrily, her teeth chattering a little because of the cold. "Give me my blade!"
He smiled at her and said, "I prefer not to." He reminded her of Brooklyn in some way. Then, noticing her involuntarily rub her arms, he said, "Are you feeling cold?" in a concerned voice.
"N-no," she chattered defiantly. He laughed and shrugged off the fur cape he was hearing. "Here," he said. "Take this." He draped it over her shoulders before she could protest. She involuntarily pulled it closer around herself, gratefully welcoming the warmth. Then she suddenly realized that this was probably another way t mock her. "You jerk!" she repeated, and swung one fist out to punch him. He caught it with ease. She tried to punch him with her other hand, but he caught that too. Then, he pulled her closer and said, "Please. Call me Dave."
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It was late at night and Julia hadn't returned to the hotel. Raul was nearly crazy with worry about his twin. He was pacing up and down in front of his room mates, Miguel, Aaron and Claude. "Where could she be?" he said agitatedly. "It's been… four hours!" he said, checking his watch. "That's it, I'm telling the others."
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"I wonder why Raul called the Barthezes up to his room," said Hilary in a low voice to Mariah. "Everyone else is sitting here, except Julia. I expect she's already gone to bed."
At that moment, Raul burst in. "Julia has been kidnapped!" he said dramatically, standing in the doorway.
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A/N:Well, this chapter was a bit... how do i say it? slow... but things will pick up soon! REVIEW!