Chapter no. : 16
Chapter title: Fire
Story rating: T
BETAed: Erm... I can't remember if Phoenix did BETA this... -laughs nervously-
Disclaimer: Me no own Beyblade. I mean, come on - how stupid are you? If I did own Beyblade, it would contain much swearing, blood, sex and rock'n'roll. And Yaoi. Don't forget the luffly yaoi. But since I don't own it, I have to settle for entertaining you guys with my stories and OCs - which is fine by me.
Warnings: swearing... me being annoyingly-cliff-hanger-y... um... nothing really... this is a rather clean story... -hums-
VERY VERY VERY big thanks for reviewing...
The Johnny McKilt Productions
Winterblazewolf
IceS
Hitorix
Notes: Holy Mary mother of God! -screams- i haven't updated this in donkeys! I got so side-tracked! -smacks self round head- So sorry. Bear with me. I sold my brain on eBay.
"Ian, shut up."
The midget continued to cackle, amused to no end, due to the fact he had found out who they were sharing the dreaded Abbey with.
Oliver just stared at him. "I'm sorry, what is so funny?"
"He must've looked in the mirror." Johnny replied boredly.
It was the day after arriving. They were all sat in the large, rustic-style kitchen, around the oak table. The Majestics and English friends seemed to stay at one end of the table, whereas the Blitzkrieg Boys sat at the other, the teams facing each other; although, Bryan and Chelsea were no where to be seen.
Ian finally raised his head off the table, stopped banging his fist and ceased his laughing in order to glare at the Scot. "Hah, like you've ever looked in one, McGregor." He retorted.
"Please, Ian." Tala insisted, although his lips curled in a smirk. "At least try to show some sort of manners."
"He was never taught them." Spencer said.
"Too true, too true…"
Robert shook his head sadly. "And the world thinks you are all emotionless gits."
"We are." The Wolf answered. "When we feel like being rather annoying."
"You do that rather well without being emotionless, Ivanov."
He ignored the Lizard. "Now, Robert, we know your predicament, and - putting aside all differences from the past - we are willing to help. We owe you for all you've done." He glanced at the others. "Please note I'm only referring to Robert. You all have done Jack-shit."
"Hey, we brought down Boris." Enrique pointed out.
"Helped." Oliver corrected. He turned to Tala. "Listen, Tala, whatever your reasons for helping us, at least you are."
"Indeed." Came a voice from the spiralling staircase that led up to the main area of the Abbey. "Lord knows how you'd fair if he was against you."
"Hiwatari…" Johnny growled.
"I guess this is the part where Chelse would say, 'Down Boy'." Friday put in.
"Amen." Enrique whispered. "And someone put a muzzle on him - we haven't been able to put more than a sentence in with him barking and bitching."
Kai did indeed enter the kitchen, wearing a loose, white shirt - a black tie undone, but hanging around his neck - and smart, black trousers. His now-quite-long two-toned hair was tied back and the blue shark fins were still present upon porcelain cheeks. He also carried a stack of papers within his grasp.
Carefully, he spread the papers out on the table in front of them. An assortment of photographs, clipped newspaper articles and data attacked their eyes, screaming so many stories.
"D'Arcy Cullen has been very active lately - he's been spending and travelling - China, Japan, America, Germany, Africa…" The blunette looked up from the deep oak, staring at Oliver. "There is one country, however, that is most surprising."
He passed a photograph over to Tala.
The redhead frowned at the picture. "This is a satellite photo of Antarctica."
"Why would he go there?" Friday asked. "Isn't it, like, the coldest place on Earth?"
"Exactly." Kai continued. "The perfect place to conduct his plans in peace - in a place where there aren't even indigenous tribes to bother him… albeit the penguins and such."
"Well, you never know - penguins might get pissed off at him one day…" Tala muttered. "So where's his base?"
"Still have to figure that one out." The Phoenix frowned. "And what was that shit about penguins? What did you smoke today?"
"A cigarette - your point?" Ice blue and fiery red connected, the former more humoured than the latter.
Kai rolled his eyes. "He generally, though, spends his time in France." He looked up, once again, at Oliver. "For a reason I don't think you'll be happy about, Polanski."
He pushed a newspaper clipping - attached to a piece of card - towards the French teen, before going back to shifting through the papers and conversing with Tala in Russian.
'Fire still rages in - within widowed Polanski's heart, that is.'
'It seems that Marie Polanski has finally moved on from the loss of her husband, Emile Polanski, and son, Oliver Polanski. One year on, she has opened her heart to a new man and has agreed to marry…'
Oliver swallowed hard.
'…D'Arcy Cullen…'Oliver felt like he couldn't breathe…
His mother was marrying his father's murderer…