The Majestics
Chapter Two
"Young masters," Gustav smiled, trying to keep his butler-esque composure but his voice was brimming with emotion. "I am glad you're all alive...especially you, Master Robert, or else I would have had to answer to your father."
The German reddened. "That's sweet of you, Gustav," he said quietly.
"Tell us, what happened?" asked Johnny.
"According to the investigation," began the butler. "You boys had been training inside the Olympia Dome. When your beyblades collided, the impact caused a massive explosion. The force of it busted our power house and ignited the West Wing. The Von Spitzveg residence caught fire as well."
"Auntie Cherry and Uncle Bob?" the Majestics cried out in unison, having encountered the kindess of the elderly, childless couple on numerous occasions. "Fire?! Are they alright?"
"They'll be fine, boys," assured the old man. "They won't be blaming anyone and volunteered to chip in for the damage expenses."
"Damage expenses?" Robert frowned. "What happened to the stadium?"
"It had its roof blasted off, sir," answered Gustav. "Nothing inside was spared."
"Investigation?" came Enrique after the stated message sunk in. "H-how long have we been out?"
"Two weeks given for you to recover."
"Two weeks?!" The Scot was appalled.
"Oh DO stop repeating whatever Gustav says, will you?" said the Jurgen heir. "It's unnerving..."
Johnny ignored him. "Exactly how extensive were the damages?"
"The Olympia Dome exploded!" said the blonde. "What do you think?!"
"Oh stop!" interjected Oliver. "Gustav tell us, if nothing inside was spared, then what happened to our beyblades?"
The team fell silent at the question. Nobody had considered that...
Oddly enough, the butler was caught off guard. He hesitated and seemingly lost his words before hanging his head.
"Gustav?" the greenette asked cautiously.
The old German slowly reached into the depths of his coat pockets and pulled out the small, metal blades. He quietly handed them over for the rich teens to see for themselves what had happened.
The hospital room was deathly silent.
...till it was broken by short sniffs from a runny nose.
Oliver wanted to cry. "Unicolyon..."
"Where--?" Enrique and Johnny turned to look at Robert for an answer.
Hardened wine-red eyes refused to meet their gazes. "...gone." the purple-haired man replied with fierce finality. "The HMS was too much for them."
--
Jonathan McGreggor opened his eyes.
All around him lay infinite darkness. It felt cold and frightening...
He was alone.
Wanting to search for a possible exit, he started walking, but almost immediately the blackness beneath his feet molded into dark tentacles that held his limbs captive. The more he struggled, the tighter they held.
A huge beast of liquid shadow reared ahead. The red-haired boy could not see it, but could sense that it was there and posed as a serious threat to his already endangered well-being. The thing was poised and ready to strike.
The Highlander's scream of defiance echoed around the black void. With an incredible swipe, he freed arms from the tentacles' bonds and instinctively shielded himself. Moments before probable death, tongues of flame shot out from nowhere, blinding the mysterious creature and his minions, making them recede into darkness once more.
He and the flames stood facing each other for a few precious moments. The former kept silent, holding high regard for it and gratitude for saving his life. The latter, on the other hand, spoke. Its words reverberated within the Scot's heart.
"Know that I shall never leave you, and that I'll always protect you."
And in a graceful flow, it entered him, but did not burn.
--
Jonathan McGreggor opened his eyes.
"Johnny!" greeted Oliver. "Bad dream?"
The pair was alone in their room.
"I..." the older Majestic shook his head. "Nothing. Where are the others?"
"Enri and Rob are out for their last session of physical therapy," answered the greenette.
The team was required three sessions of the said treatment before they could be released as fully recovered. "The doctor says that if he sees us functioning efficiently enough, we're free by this afternoon."
"Oh."
The young chef cocked his head to one side at the hothead's nonchalance. "You've been unusually quiet recently, John." The boy had a knack of noticing things.
Johnny sighed. "It's still hard to get used to life without our bitbeasts," he confided. "I can't bring myself to believe it."
"Oh Johnny," the French boy delicately hopped off his bed and crawled onto the other's to place a comforting arm around strong shoulders. "If you really love something, no matter what happens, in a way it'll never leave you because a part of it has become you. Get it?"
The Scot looked at him and smiled. "I get it. Thanks Oliver..."
"Good," said the other and patted his back lightly. "Come now, let's attend our last session of therapy!"
Johnny watched amusedly as the perky greenette tripped in the process of leaving the room. He sighed once more and remembered his dream. His hand automatically straightened his shirt when it chanced upon feeling his chest. Deep plum orbs widened.
It's...warm?
--
An immense crowd formed the human barricade that was blocking the central road leading to the main entrance of the Berlin General Hospital.
Most of the people had camped out for several days and nights, making sure they would in no way miss the discharge of Europe's beyblading pride and joy.
Apparently, the whole continent had first thought the four teens had died, hence religiously followed the televised saga (via daily news) of their struggle on the path to recovery.
A deafening roar erupted at the opening of double glass doors.
The sight of the rich quartet waltzing out the building while flashing killer smiles as if nothing happened was enough to reduce their fans to tears. Their honor was something to marvel at. Failure to master the Heavy Metal System meant that Europe could not qualify for the World Championships...again. It was clear knowledge that a small number of independent, budding teams may be sent as replacement contenders, but the thrill was not the same.
The Majestics bore their defeat with their heads proudly held high, and it wasn't until they had gotten in the waiting limo did they drop their facade. Robert sighed and fixed a displaced lock of violently violet hair.
"The first thing I'm going to do is send you all back to your homes. You guys deserve a well-earned vacation. As for me, I'll just be informing Mr. Dickinson about our withdrawal before I too shall take a leave..."
"Oh Robert," Oliver said consolingly, seeing as their team captain truly regretted the fact that they weren't going to be able to compete once more...or ever again. "It's alright. Would you like to come with Enri and I? We're going yachting in Napoli."
"We are?" asked the Italian beside him, not having been consulted about the matter beforehand.
"Yes, we ARE," replied the greenette sternly.
"Thanks but no," said Robert. "I'm planning of visiting my cousins in Vienna."
"That's nice," remarked Enrique. "Where will you go, Johnny?" he asked the Scot.
"I'm going back to my folks in Glasgow," he answered with a smile. "It's been a while since I've been home. I'm sure mum needs loads of help around the house."
"Yeah," the French boy laughed. "You having ten older siblings and ten younger ones!"
The redhead sighed as Robert shook his head.
"You know, I still find that fact hard to comprehend even if I've been to your estate and met the McGreggors."
"Aw man," the blonde was reminiscing. "You guys have four huge dogs right? They're rascals!"
"Guys stop," said Johnny. He never liked talking about his family because it was too odd.
"What's to hide about your family, John?" asked Oliver. "They're the most fun lot I've ever met!"
That extracted a groan from the Scot that sent his friends laughing.
--
"Will the Majestics be playing this year, Mr. D?" Tyson Kinomiya asked the BBA Board-Member-turned-Chairman as he returned to the small dojo's kitchen, having answered a call on his mobile phone.
The bluenette knew that Europe was always the first to hold their preliminaries. They jumpstart regionals and finals all over the world.
"I'm sorry, Tyson," said the old man. "I'm afraid they failed to master the HMS. No Majestics this year..."
"Darn it!" swore Tyson. "I never get to see them in action! I wonder what happened to them, Chief?" He turned to the genius brunette beside him.
"Well," Kenny began. "According to my data, the Heavy Metal System is truly a strong and powerful force. If a blader doesn't know how to tame and control it, his or her blade will become a wild beast, overwhelming and destructive. Mastering the HMS requires true dedication, spirit and flexibility...an all-together new fighting style that draws power from the involvement of the blader. I guess the Majestics just weren't up to that kind of innovation..."
Curiously enough, the news of the Olympia Stadium incident never left European media, surreptitiously hushed up with fat wads of cash.
TBC
A/N: Thanks for the support on this story! I really wish I'd be able to continue! ((is having writer's brick...xP)) ...enjoy!xD and ciAo...