Title: Crimson's Child

Authoress: Ladya C. Maxine

Rating: M

Summary: see chapter one

Warnings: see chapter one

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. Any and all unrecognizable characters belong solely to me and are not to be used without my permission. I am not making any money off of this and write with the sole intent to entertain.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry, I did-didn't know t-this was yours!" He made another futile tug but his hand didn't even budge. He swallowed hard, trying to keep the other's intense stare.

A boy, about his age, crouched before him. Red eyes glared at him through long silver bangs that darkened into a deep blue towards the back. Strange but dangerous looking marks were painted on his cheeks, making him look like a predator. Despite his feral eyes, his face was emotionless as he watched the boy in his hold struggle weakly against him.

"Please...d-don't hurt me..."

He didn't know how the bluenette would react to his words but he was surprised when the fires dimmed a bit. The stone wall crumbled as the bluenette tilted his head slightly to one side, studying him. The hand holding his let go and the bluenette sat back on his heels.

He didn't know if he would be set free but he wasn't about to risk it; something about this boy was dangerous and not to be tampered with.

Wordlessly, the bluenette reached out his hand and picked up the spinning blade. The whizzing sound stopped, leaving a dead silence in the air. Pocketing the blade, the boy turned back to him, eyes wandering over his face. Lifting a gloved hand, he removed the leather hand wear and reached out. Expecting a slap or something unpleasant, he braced himself and pressed his eyes shut, whimpering as he submitted to the other.

Instead of pain, however, he felt the barest whisper of fingers on his face. He opened an eye and was taken back when he saw a look of...understanding? A bit of pressure was added and he hissed and pulled away, his own hand going up to cover the fading bruise on his cheek, compliment of one of his brothers before he had left the house that day.

Red eyes lost their scary glow, leaving behind a boy who watched him with childish curiosity, head cocked to one side. For several minutes they simply watched each other, taking in the other's appearance.

Looking into the blood red eyes, he couldn't help being drawn into them. They mesmerized him... And why was there a boy in a place like this? Was he a prisoner? A murderer?!

A loud commotion exploded from the other side of the wall behind him and he jumped, dropping to the ground and covering his head. Crawling backwards, he pressed himself against the wall as many feet crunched the snow as dark robed men ran by. Deep voices shouted out orders and he felt his heart stop when the word 'intruder' came up. They had found him!

Before him, the bluenette had yet to move from where he sat on his heels. The crimson eyes calmly took in the scene as he replaced his glove. Rising to his feet, he walked towards the archway and leaned against it, eyes intent on something. The relaxed way with which the stranger acted proved that he had to be a local to this place, whatever this place was.

"What is it now?"

A deep voice made him jump and risking trouble, he crawled to peep around the corner, hiding behind the bluenette's baggy jeans.

To his horror an entire group of guards stood just feet away from his hiding place. All had very big guns and very ugly sneers on their faces. Two of them held a struggling person between them, their grip as iron on the muscled captive as the bluenette's grip had been on him.

"Who are you?"

The same commanding voice spoke up again and he edged a little more to his left.

A man stood before the guards. He was very tall and very pale and had steel grey eyes. He was dressed also in dark robes though his face was visible from beneath a more elaborate hood that just barely showed his purple hair. This was probably the boss of the prison.

"Get your fucking hands off me!"

He made a muffled squeak and the bluenette glanced down with puzzled eyes. Covering his mouth with his hand, he looked back to where Jacob was glaring daggers and knives at the older man. Luckily, no one had heard his cry of fear.

"You have been caught trespassing on private property," said the tall man.

"There ain't no signs on the gate that say 'Keep Out'." Jacob growled.

The tall man simply raised a brow and looked at the guards. The air was filled with the clicks of guns as they were all aimed at Jacob's head.

"These are the only signs we need."

"Alright, fine. But I am not leaving without my property."

Giving an annoyed sigh, the grey-eyed man asked, "What property?"

"A small boy."

The eyes narrowed to mere slits.

"This is an Abbey, sir; it is filled with small boys."

"This one stole something from my shop. And believe me, he ain't from here."

He gulped and looked up to find the bluenette's red eyes trained on the package he gripped to his chest. The crimson pair slid up to his face and narrowed somewhat before looking back to the conflict.

"How very unfortunate for you," the Abbey head said sarcastically, "It truly grieves me to tell you that we have seen no such child here. Now, do please allow our guards to escort you out."

"That runt has 300 dollars worth of drugs with him! I am not going to leave until I get it back!"

"Using children to traffic illegal drugs? My, my, wouldn't the police love to hear about this." Taking a step closer, he was a good two or three inches taller than Jacob, he glared down at him. "Get out of my Abbey. Dare to return and you will not live to see the outside world again."

Jacob tried to lunge at him but the guards held him firm and proceeded to drag his kicking and screaming form into the shadows, heading for the front gates. Meanwhile, the other guards returned to their duties, leaving the tall man and a lone guard.

"How did he get in here?" the man asked through gritted teeth, not even turning to face the guard.

"We believe he climbed the gate, Mr Balcov, sir. He is covered in scratches."

"I think it is high time we install the electrical fence." He remained silent for a few seconds. "And have some of our men check the grounds; if the man spoke the truth then we have a little visitor."

"Yes, sir." He turned and walked briskly into a nearby building.

The grey eyes remained trained towards the front gate, though he said, "I know you are there."

He felt his heart constrict tightly. He was caught! What were they going to do to him?!

"Come here, Kai."

Much to his great relief, and curiosity, it was the bluenette who the man had been talking to. The boy, now identified as Kai, sighed softly and walked over, head bowed and arms behind his back in military fashion.

"Yes, Boris, sir?"

"What are you doing out here so late? It's past nine o'clock."

"I was training, sir." He held out his beyblade as proof.

"Always the perfectionist, aren't you, Kai?" A proud smile spread across Boris' pale face but Kai didn't return it, only nodding mutely. "Well, off to bed with you. Tomorrow you will all be training out in the woods. You'll need your strength."

"Yes, sir." He started to walk away but the man's voice stopped him.

"Kai, have you, by any chance, seen an unfamiliar face while out training?"

Behind the wall, he squeezed his eyes shut. Kai sounded to be very disciplined and serious and he knew he would give him away. So when Kai answered, he was shocked.

"An unfamiliar face, sir?"

"A boy who doesn't belong here."

"No, sir. I haven't. Why do you ask?"

"Never mind. Go to sleep. You will be up at five in the morning."

"Yes, sir."

The man's dark robes quickly melted into the shadows and his booted footsteps slowly faded until the night was once more silent.

Crawling to his feet, he looked uncertainly at the bluenette, Kai, who had his back turned to him.

"Um...thanks...for not--"

"Go around to barracks and you will find the main south entrance. Beside it is the guard's house. It is empty but there is a wooden board that you can push away. You can fit through it and you will be out. Don't ever come back here." Without another word, or even looking back, he walked off; the shadows of the buildings swallowing his small form right before his eyes.

Taken back by the command but grateful for it at the same time, he sent a silent thank you to Kai and hurried towards that guard house. With the exceptions of a few guards underway there was no one else and he was able to slip into the desolated small hut and found the loose board Kai had told him about. Even with his thin frame it was a very near fit but he managed. There was no cover outside the walls and he made a quick sprint for the trees.

Leaning against a trunk to catch his breath, he looked down at the brown package that sat in his lap. All of this had happened because he had stolen this stupid thing. He was tempted to throw it deep within the trees and leave it there but a tortuous whipping waited for him back home and with this he could guarantee that his mother would keep it brief in order to sample her new products.

'She'll probably be mad because I made a mess of these clothes also.' Looking down, he took in the mud stains and tears he had gotten from crawling through the thick underbrush. A huge hole was in one pants' knee and blood stained his chest. It was only then that he realised that he had been scratched by a low branch or something sometime during his flee from Jacob earlier.

He let out a small moan of dismay but got to his feet; it was a long way home and if he started walking now he may make it back before midnight.

He turned to give the Abbey, now even more intimidating after his near- escape a few seconds ago. The towers were menacing and he could see several large bats fluttering around its peeks. Several windows burned with light and the spiked gates gleamed in their rays.

Looking at the haunting complex, he felt a tug at his heart. It felt as if he was running away from a place he belonged. But how was that possible? He had never been there and the people didn't look all that friendly. And still...

Giving the dark buildings a final look, he turned and ran off into the dark forest.

The guests turned out to be none other than his mother's sister and her husband. Bums would have been a more appropriate word for them. Guests were people who were dignified and sat around the table in their nice clothes and designer shoes, drinking tea and talking about their jobs and their interesting lives.

Of course, his mother knew no such people and drug addiction ran in the family, or so it appeared for the sight that greeted him when he came home, which was indeed some minutes after midnight, was anything but what proper guest visits were supposed to be.

His mother, wearing a large t-shirt and socks as always, was sitting in the torn chair in the corner, the stuffing having burst from the cover and trailed over the floor. He couldn't tell if she was asleep or passed out but in any case she wasn't aware of him. Neither were the other two adults who were kissing and groping on the couch, the woman's 'blouse' lay near the entrance and her bra hung over the beaten television set.

Aunt Jo had a 'job' as a cleaner in a moderately decent shop uptown, though she never stayed employed somewhere for more than a month, her brash temper and colourful language landing more trouble in her hands than money. She made up for her loss by relaxing to the 'soothing' effects brought on by massive drug intakes. The results, like his mother, caused her to look like she was slowly rotting away.

Still, her appearance was enough to make Bernard marry her. He worked in a junkyard on the outskirts of the city, though he could never keep a job for long either. Together they lived in a rundown apartment somewhere deep within Moscow's abbeys. Neither had children. None living anyways; Aunt Jo had given birth to two stillborns and her third child was found floating in the icy lake of one of the parks, having died after being thrown in there by Jo just a few hours after it had been born. The police never found the parents. Needless to say, Jo didn't have a love for children.

"Where have you been?!"

Startled by his mother's shout, he spun around but his vision was obstructed by a hand which slapped him sharply across the face. He dropped the package, backing away as she towered above him, eyes red with sleep and drugs.

"I-I-I-I w-was--"

Not giving him time to explain, she grabbed him by the shirt front and lifted him so they were looking each other eye-to-eye. With each breath she exhaled he could smell the reek of alcohol on it. The sounds of pleasure from behind him had fallen silent and he could feel the other adults' eyes on him.

"How fucking dumb are you to not know when it is late?!! Look outside!!" She roughly turned him to let him see out the window. "What do you see?! WHAT DO YOU SEE?!?!?"

"I-It's n-n-night."

"Useless runt!!" With a disgusted snarl, she pushed him away.

Landing with a jar on the old floorboards, he curled into a ball, trembling with fear. He didn't have to wait long before a socked heel caught him in the back. Biting his lip till it bled, he whimpered, ducking more in on himself to protect his head and chest as much as possible.

"I'm sorry!" he cried, keeping his eyes closed, fearing to look into her mad ones.

"Where is it? Where's my stuff?"

"I brought it! It's on the floor!" The tears had soaked his shirt and smudged the dirt on his face. His cheek was red and a bit swollen from where she had struck him though he knew his body would be bruised from the fall.

Releasing his hair, she practically ran to the brown package, which was quite worn from his long trek through the woods. Falling to her knees, she began to tear at wrapping like a wild animal.

A spring groaned as aunt Jo stood from the couch, pointedly ignoring the beaten child before her, and walked over to her sister. Crossing her legs she watched as his mother unpacked the contents with hungry eyes.

Bernard watch lazily, silent as usual though his attention soon drifted from the women as they began to sample the drugs to the small child who had gotten to his knees.

"Don't think yer old man would have done that," he said with a smirk.

Swallowing down the blood that had seeped from the corner of his mouth, he didn't reply. Bernard would always play the psychological game with him, using words instead of fists to make him feel like the worst thing that had ever happened to the earth.

Still, the man's motives were no different from the others and he knew to stay out of arm's reach and on the alert. Bernard wouldn't act as quickly, being married to Jo and all, but he acted nonetheless if given the chance.

"That yer problem; you ain't got a dad. Women don't understand us."

Still not speaking, he got to his feet, averting the older male's eyes. It became frighteningly clear where Bernard was heading with this; it wasn't the first time that the man had tried to lure him to his home under the false hope of having a father.

"Yer mother is right; you are worthless. To her. Me? I don't think so." Sitting up and leaning with his elbows on his knees, he ran his dark eyes over the beaten face. "You give me what I want and I give you what you want."

The new position brought the man closer to him and he stepped back. "I can't go," was all he could say.

"Oh? Why is that? Because you belong here with your family?" he snorted, "Tell me, boy, in whose bed did you spend last night? Fritz looked much more...happy...than I last saw him."

The redness of his swollen cheeks hid his blush and he dropped his eyes to his feet, watching as he nervously nudged the floor with his toe. A whiff of weed entered his senses and he turned to see his mother and her sister happily sharing a joint, muttering quietly amongst themselves as they reclined on the rug.

He regretted taking his eyes off him because suddenly Bernard lunged forward and wrapping his arms around the slightly trembling body, which now stiffened with fright, he pulled the boy in his lap, forcing the head to rest on his broad chest.

The gesture, which normally meant warmth and love, brought on cold and dread instead and he remained absolutely motionless. Except for his eyes, which darted towards the two women, hoping that Jo would have something to say about her husband's behaviour.

"You're like ice. Let me warm you," Bernard whispered into his ear but he shivered even more.

His hope flared when, before the hands could begin to wander, Jo turned towards them. Brushing a limp lock of blond hair from her face, she watched them with a noticeable sneer on her face though her words were not what he had hoped for.

"Take that to the room, Bernard. I don't wanna see you shagging that brat right before me."

"If you insist, dear." With a triumphant chuckle, he rose from the couch, cradling the boy tightly against him as his long legs carried them away.

Straining his neck, he looked over the broad shoulder, blue eyes wide with denial and wet with tears as he silently begged his mother to help him. Already he could feel the button and zipper of his jeans being opened.

His mother placed the joint between her lips and smirking, she gave him a small wave as he lost view of her around the corner.

Tbc…

A/N: Jo and Bernard know that Tala is Matilda's son.

Sorry if things get a little confusing at times with which 'he' I am referring to but remember that Tala didn't have a name until he reached the abbey.

Read & Review, please.