Thanks to Moonblossoms for the catch up reviews!
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Chapter Eleven: Fight for What You Believe
Emily hadn't exchanged one word with Michael during the flight. Every time she opened her mouth to say something, he'd take offense and argue back. A vicious cycle of trading insults would happen until a third party intervened. Usually that person was Judy, but she wasn't around presently. The woman had caught another plane just as soon as they had arrived in Australia. Word was she was heading to Mount Isa to carry out some business there with Douglas.
The PBB All-Starz were left in Brisbane's city centre at the Sofitel Hotel. The room was big enough for the five of them. Three bedrooms. Michael and Eddy took one room, and Steven and Rick took the other. Emily took the spare room wanting one for herself. The apartment even had two separate bathrooms, a spacious dining area and even a private balcony which overlooked a big pool out the back.
The last time they had visited Australia they had only gone down to Sydney, so Brisbane was an entirely new experience for them. Fortunately for them, their hotel was a luxurious one and provided a lot of entertainment for the bladers. Its convenient location in the city centre also made it easier to see the best sights the place had to offer as the boys were just discovering.
"Sweet, you only have to be eighteen to get into bars here," Steve said, looking up from the tourism brochure.
"We're not here to go clubbing," Emily said. "The tournament starts in less than a week. We should be practicing."
Michael was supposed to be the captain and therefore responsible for getting his teammates into shape, but he was glued to the screen, watching a match of cricket. "This is so weird," Michael commented. "It's like baseball… but isn't."
"Practicing doesn't include looking at other sports." Emily lobbed a rolled-up newspaper at his head.
"Hey! What the hell?" he complained, as the paper hit the back of his head.
"Welcome to sports outside of America," Rick said, planting himself down next to Michael. "We're supposed to get Foxtel here… It's what they call cable television in Australia. Someone pass me the television guide."
It was so hard being the only female on a team of four guys. Half the time it felt like she was the only one with any sense. She missed Judy terribly. At least when she was around, the boys were better behaved. How did the girls on the other teams' cope being the only female? Hilary? Mariah? Mariam? Mathilda? Julia? Salima? Queen?
As soon as this was all over, she was so going to go on a short vacation with the other girls. "Hey Em, make me a sandwich!" Michael called from the couch.
Why she oughta… Calm down, Emily. He's just trying to get a rise out of you, she told herself. "Go make yourself a sandwich. It's not too difficult – even you could do it." Whoops. Too late. She supposed having not argued with him once in the past twenty-four hours had only made her more likely to fight back. "Why don't I make you a hotdog instead? You could do with one."
He bolted up from the couch, shaking the newspaper at her. "Why don't you do us all a favour and get the hell out of here? You should've gone to Mount Isa with Judy… but she probably didn't want you tagging along either, so she left you here with us. But guess what? We don't want you either. You're the weakest link on the team here."
"Ouch man, that was harsh," Steven said.
Eddy looked up from his bowl of cereal. He carefully picked it up and took a few steps back, as if fearing a fight would break out. "Judy had business to carry out."
Just breathe, she told herself.
Rick hit the mute button on the remote. He too was now on his feet. "Michael. Drop it. I doubt she meant anything by it… We're all feeling a little jetlagged."
Emily wasn't afraid to admit that she despised Rick when Judy recruited him into the team. He was nothing more but bullying bastard in the early days, always putting his teammates down, and mocking their efforts. But Max had changed him. Rick was a nice guy once she had gotten past the rough exterior and all the fake bravado.
"Thank you, Rick."
"And she's right. We should be getting in as much blading practice as possible."
"You're going to take orders from that munchkin?" Michael retorted. It had been years since he had last used that term. "She's not the boss and I will not take orders from her! I'm captain, and I call the shots."
"You're not exactly setting a great example, right now, captain," Emily argued back. Once the fighting started, it was hard to stop. Her mouth just kept going. Some part of her, a small part, enjoyed the banter. It brought her great satisfaction getting one over the great Michael Parker and making him squirm. "Maybe if you spent this much time arguing, you'd be doing a lot better in the beystadium!"
"That's rich coming from you. You didn't even get to blade in the first tournament."
"Because my skills were required elsewhere."
"Sitting behind a laptop screen and chatting to your boyfriend, Miguel?"
Her cheeks reddened. Not from embarrassment, but from growing rage. "No, you idiot! Analysing out team statistics and working on improvements! Not that you would understand how any of that works because you're too busy bragging all the time!" She wanted to pick something up and throw it as his face. Anything to wipe that smirk off. That devilish triumphant smirk he made every time he thought he had won the battle or was close to claiming victory.
By this point, Eddy had retreated into his bedroom to finish off his cereal in a secure environment. He didn't like conflict, and always left when he couldn't take it any longer. "Would both of you just stop?" Rick said, coming to stand between the two. "This fighting has to end."
"Tell that to Emily. She's the one who got worked up all over a sandwich."
"A sandwich you could easily make for yourself, Michael."
Steven sighed, raking a hand through his green locks of hair. "You two fight like an old married couple. Just kiss and make up already. I want to go out and get some breakfast."
That was enough to start world war three. A deathly silence hung over the room, then… "I wouldn't touch Emily even with a ten-foot pole!" Michael snarled, his eyes blazing. "She means nothing to me."
"Michael," Rick started.
The captain turned his back, his arms folded across his chest. "Spare me the lecture, Rick. I'm going to check out the pool. You comin' Steven?" Michael exited the room, leaving Emily alone with Rick and Steven. Steven hurried after Michael, sparing a glance over his shoulder at Emily. He mouthed the words 'sorry' and followed his captain out of the room. Eddy joined them a few moments later when he decided it was safe to leave.
Her lower lip trembled as a strong surge of hot emotion flooded her mind. She dropped to her knees, feeling all energy drain away in her legs. Tears filled her eyes. Out of all the insults Michael had thrown her way over the years that had to be the worst of them. Did he really despise her that much? She brought her knees to her chest and buried her head into her legs, unable to stop the flood of tears roll down her cheeks.
She felt someone's hand on her shoulder and looked up through blurry eyes. Rick. "I'm here for you, Emily."
Emily sniffed, and tried to wipe the tears away. This was unlike her. How embarrassing to become so emotionally overwhelmed by something like this. She was stronger than this. "I want to stop… but I-I can't," she said in between sobs, trying desperately to calm herself down. "Everything I've done was to help the team."
Gods, this was embarrassing, but the tears just wouldn't stop flowing. Never had she ever broken down like this especially not in front of her team. "Don't beat yourself up, Emily. The team wouldn't have come this far without you," Rick said gently, placing an arm around neck, and pulling her in close. He was strangely quite gentle for someone built like a truck. "It's okay to cry, Emily. Let it all out."
She rested her head against his shoulder and continued to sob into the cloth.
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Night had fallen, and not a single star could be seen thanks to the thick cloud cover. Shame really. Occasionally, he'd sneak outside during the late hours of the night to gaze up at the stars, but tonight, he had a different agenda. He was being followed, and he wasn't sure for how long. Now he needed to find them and sort out this situation.
He turned around a corner, stepping into one of the many deserted alleyways. They were staying in the dodgy part of the city and it paid to be cautious. Rogue bladers made their homes here in the trash and in the sewers. They were people who had succumbed to the darker side of life and now survived by preying on others and robbing them.
He had only ever encountered one before in his life. A beybattle had taken place, and his attacker had fled the scene shortly afterwards. They didn't try to attack him again, but he did see them on a frequent basis, sneaking around. "I know you're out there," Mystel said, gazing up at the rooftops. "If you want to talk, I'm right here."
He moved deeper into the alleyway, bypassing a few more dumpsters and bags of trash. The stench of rotten food filled his nostrils, and almost caused him to lurch. He managed to hold it down, as he continued delving further in, his right hand in his pocket. Clang. He jerked his head towards the source of the noise and walked in the direction.
The noise? A fallen trashcan lid. A possum had probably knocked it over. He continued walking slowly, investigating his surroundings. He spotted the remains of some cigarettes at the base of a dumpster, and some broken alcoholic bottles. The cigarette still had smoke coming from the end. Someone had been here just recently.
He heard another noise. This time, a faint whirring sound, like a gear spinning. A beyblade. He pulled his Poseidon blade out of his pocket, and carefully loaded it onto his launcher, then inserted the ripcord. Taking a few steps towards his target, he raised his launcher and prepared to pull the cord back.
There was another whirring noise coming from above. Arching his neck back, he spotted an object plummeting down. Without wasting another second, Mystel aimed his blade at the object, and pulled the cord back. His blade flew forward crashing into the other one knocking it aside into a nearby wall. The rival blade crashed to the floor but remained spinning.
"So, you're going to attack me from the shadows?" No answer. "Very well then. Have it your way." He raised his right arm. His blade followed his movement and jumped straight up, climbing up the side of a building. Two more blades appeared. All three were a dark shade of red, each one with the same bitchip. A sabre-tooth tiger. He recognized them. The Bai Hu Clan.
He directed his blade to jump on the opposite wall which his blade did with little effort. The other three blades followed and chased Poseidon up the wall. He looked up, searching for a glimpse of his attackers, but saw nothing. They were here, but where? What could they be hiding behind?
"Poseidon, keep them busy, wear them down," he ordered. Much like their real-life extinct counterparts, the bitbeast sabre-tooths had low endurance. All he had to do was keep them busy for a little while longer and they'd give up the chase. Poseidon sped down the wall, the three blades in hot pursuit. One of the rival blades jumped into the air then crashed down at an angle. Two could play that game. "Evade!" Poseidon made a sharp turn to the left. Most blades would just crash into the wall or take the hit, but special training had given him the skills to make precise movements.
The other two blades turned yellow. A pillar of yellow light burst from the centre brightening up the night sky for a temporary moment. Two sabre-tooths emerged, the two mammals growling at the night sky. A third sabre soon joined the fray. A pack of sabres. Just his luck. Three robed figures jumped down from the roof tops landing in front of their blades.
"You thought you could run forever," said the figure in the middle, a male. He pulled his hood back. He had short brown hair, but his features were concealed thanks to the mask he wore which was identical to the one Mystel had. "But we're here now. No more running. You're coming back with us."
Mystel tightened his jaw. One of the sabres lunged, swiping a powerful claw at his blade. His bitchip triggered, and Poseidon joined the battle of the bitbeasts a few seconds later and swung his javelin at the large cat. The cat evaded the attack and retreated. Another sabre lunged. Poseidon fought the second cat, swinging his muscular tail. The tail connected with the sabre's side, flinging it into the wall. Every time a cat went down, another one leaped into the fray.
"So, you followed me the way here… For what purpose? I'm never going back."
The third sabre jumped, claws digging into Poseidon's skin. Poseidon slapped his tail into the cat's back, then wrapped around its legs, flicking it off. The cats continued to attack, clawing, and tearing, only to get thrown to the ground by his bitbeast's tail and claws. Mystel didn't understand – why keep attacking when they were getting nowhere?
"Master Li has given you appropriate time to obtain what is needed, but we find you here instead. Your task was simple – spy on the White Tiger Tribe and report your findings."
Before Mystel could argue back, another blade joined the battle. A black blade which looked familiar. Brooklyn. "Three against one. Not exactly what I would call a fair fight." Mystel glanced over his shoulder and spotted the ginger striding forward. He felt a stab of annoyance at Brooklyn's unwanted intrusion. "Zeus!" It only took a few seconds for Zeus to appear. He was hard to see clearly thanks to the darkness, but Brooklyn knew where he was, and he didn't waste a single second to take turn the battle into his favour.
The three sabres were blasted away into a far wall. The man with the hood down spoke. "You brought company. We'll be back again another day when you're alone." The trio fled the scene.
"I had that under control," Mystel said, turning to face Brooklyn. Brooklyn was the last person he wanted to see. Just his luck that the ginger had to be the one to catch him.
Brooklyn recalled his blade. "Right. You totally had that battle in your favour. I suppose allowing those three cats to attack you was part of this brilliant plan of yours?" Mystel scowled. "I'm not leaving until you answer me – those people knew you and you obviously knew them. What aren't you telling us?"
"It isn't your concern."
Brooklyn snorted. "You're a part of the team, so that means yes, what concerns you also concerns us. If these people are looking for you for whatever reason, we need to know. We can help."
Mystel glared. "Like how you 'helped' me with Mariah? If that's your idea of 'help' then I don't want it." He tried to push past but Brooklyn pushed him back. He wasn't going to get out of this without explaining himself. "They're called the Bai Hu Clan. They're from a village to east of China," he said, resigning himself to telling the truth. Brooklyn was a persistent prick.
"You worked for them."
"I was raised there," he replied, recalling Poseidon. "They're the masters of blading. I learned my techniques from them." The infamous 360 attack being one of them. "These skills were supposed to help me become better at… gaining the advantage over our opponents. Rival clans. That sorta thing. We trained day and night perfecting the art."
"Like assassins. That would explain the mask."
Mystel nodded. Assassins was a nice way to describe how the Bai Hu clan functioned. The mask was worn to hide their features from their opponents to avoid being identified, and the acrobatic skills were taught to keep bladers in prime health as well as evading the enemy. "You can't tell the others."
"They have a right to know."
"And tell them what? That I, Mystel, worked for a group of assassins before joining up with Bega? I was supposed to gather intelligence on the White Tiger Tribe. To find a weakness in their village so the clan could raid them," he paused then looked away, guilt rising up within. For weeks he had camped out at the tribe, watching their every move, and eavesdropping on their conversations. "To put an end to the White Tiger Tribe. Wipe out the village," he added tonelessly. Kill them all.
"But you didn't do it."
"No. When you spend so much time watching your targets, they become a part of your life. They hadn't done anything to deserve death… So, I helped them instead." Saving the kitten for Kevin and Gary. Rescuing Mariah's bandana rather than letting it become lost forever. Helping the team get the fruit on top of the mountain they couldn't reach. "I could've… should've walked away. I should've just left them to their fates, but I couldn't do it."
"That explains a lot," Brooklyn commented. "And so, you joined up with Bega. Did you think you could use the name to protect yourself?"
"I wanted a different life, Brooklyn. Isn't that why we all joined? To improve ourselves in some way? Crusher needed the money to pay for his sister's operation. Ming Ming wanted to be admired and respected. Garland wanted to separate himself from his siblings, and you to escape the past. I joined for the same reason you did." He jumped up into a dumpster and sat down. "But Bega fell apart, and now we're back where we started from. Perhaps even worse off than we were before. At least I had Mariah. A ray of sunshine in a bleak world, but she's not there anymore thanks to you."
For once, Brooklyn looked guilty. "I think you know deep down she's not right for you, at least not now anyway. If she ever learns the truth that you were assigned to kill her… Well, I don't think you need me to finish off that sentence, but you know what I'm getting at." Silence fell. It was like one of those awkward movies where a kiss and make up session was due to happen. "You and I might not always see eye to eye on things, Mystel, but we are a team. I've made mistakes in the past – we all have – but we move on from them. I'm here to help, not just as a teammate, but as a friend."
Was the world slowly going mad? Mystel searched Brooklyn's eyes for some sign of hostility but saw only genuine concern. Maybe Brooklyn wasn't a complete sociopath after all. Perhaps he did have a heart behind that arrogant demeanour. "Then we put a stop to them. Master Li is who we want to find. He's the brains behind the organization."
"Where do we find him?"
"That's what we have to find out. He could be anywhere, but if I were to make a guess, I'd say he'd be heading to Australia for the tournament. It would be a distraction – all cameras would be focused on the big event and not local criminal activity."
"We'll book a flight down under."
"We need money for that."
A smile spread across Brooklyn's face. "Ming Ming's record label. We'll use that."
"And how do we gain access to those funds? It was under Boris's account and we don't know the password to access it is."
His smile widened. "We're having a dinner party tomorrow night with the Demolition Boys. If anyone knows anything about Boris, it would be them."
"For a moment I thought you were offering a peace treaty with them."
Brooklyn shrugged. "It's up to them to decide that."
Stifling a yawn, Mystel hopped down from the dumpster. "We don't tell Garland anything. Or Ming Ming or even Crusher about what happened here. I don't need them on my case… I doubt they'd be forgiving as you."
"My lips are sealed."
"Shall we head home then?"
Mystel cast one more glance upwards. Most likely they were still around, hiding someplace. They probably even knew where he lived, but if he had his teammates around, they wouldn't attack. That went against one of their tenants – don't expose the clan to the public. At least he could some comfort in that. "Yeah, let's return."
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He wanted to swing a punch and wipe that arrogant smirk of his face, but he knew better than to allow anger to dictate his actions. Besides, that wouldn't help solve anything and would just make things worse thus undoing all the hard work he had put into getting along with his teammates.
Rick held Emily close for what felt like hours as she sobbed into his shoulder. At first, Emily had never been his favourite person due to her haughty attitude, but the girl was far more vulnerable than she was letting on. He believed she only projected a tough demeanour to impress the boys on the team.
He had witnessed many fights between Michael and Emily since joining the PBB All-Starz, and never had he seen it amount to this. It was fine to playfully tease the other person, but this was borderline cruel. He knew how Emily felt. He had once been the person who hurt others intentionally because he found them beneath him, but Max had changed his perspective. Now he wanted to help others.
The problem was a clash of personalities. Both Michael and Emily were quite similar in some ways – arrogant and headstrong – with both having a 'never say never' attitude, hence why their fights never died down without intervention from someone else. Emily was usually in the defensive corner and he suspected it had something to do with people making fun of her over her appearance and intellect before she had joined the PBB All-Starz. She had probably become a blader to defend herself.
As for Michael? The guy could be an insufferable jerk at times, but maybe it was all just an act to hide what he truly felt. Rick hadn't failed to notice how they were always together (even if they fought a lot) during the days when Max was part of the team. He hadn't failed to notice how Emily carefully positioned herself to be near Michael whenever she had the chance. The guy was just too clueless to even notice.
The arguing had been mild during the Max days, but ever since his departure, things had become quite heated again. Probably because Max wasn't around to quell the flames. He had a naturally calming effect on people. Now Rick was there to pick up that role. This was even tougher than living on the streets. At least those fights could be solved with a beyblade.
"I'm going to go and get you something nice to eat," Rick said, slowly pulling away from Emily. Her sobs had quietened down now, but her eyes were red, and her cheeks swollen. "What would you like? One of those chocolate sundaes?" She nodded.
"Don't be long," she said.
He climbed to his feet. "Just take care of yourself. Don't let anyone else in unless it's me. I'll be back shortly." Now it was time to talk with a certain arrogant captain about his treatment of Emily and get some answers. Where had Michael said he was going again? The pool? Rick headed out into the hallway, gently closing the door behind him. Emily needed some time alone.
He turned to the right and walked down the hall, bypassing several rooms until he reached the elevator. There were so many floors in this place it would take a day to search the entire building. Fortunately, the pool was easy to find. It was on the ground level. He ventured outside. The pool was crowded. No surprises there. It was a hot day here in Brisbane though apparently that was normal. It was said there were only two seasons in Australia – hot and hotter.
Michael was easy to spot. He was chatting to a few girls. By the big smiles on their faces and the hearty laughter, they seemed to be enjoying his company. It's like the guy felt no remorse for his actions. Steven was in the water splashing around whilst Eddy lay down on one of the chairs. He walked over to Eddy and stood in front of him, blocking the sunlight.
"Hey. Where'd the sun go?" Eddy removed his sunglasses and looked up. "Rick?"
"You me. Talk now." He then glanced over at Steven and motioned for him to come out of the pool as well. Steven looked upset, but walked over, dripping wet. "What the hell is going on? You two just left Emily like her feelings meant nothing," he snapped.
"I know, and I feel like a jerk, but I didn't have a choice," Steven defended.
"You look like you had it sorted," Eddy said.
Rick almost covered his face with his palm. "You always have a choice! And you chose to side with Michael, and I don't know why."
"What do you want us to then, Rick, huh?" Steven challenged. "Because the way I see it, those two are never going to get along. They're too alike. That's why they bitch all the time. Too much ego for the other to handle. We can't exactly just say, hey why don't you two just drop it?"
Surprisingly, an insightful comment from the burly blader. "How long have they been at this for? How many years? Do you know why it even started?"
"We were all recruited into the All-Starz by Judy. She was a talent scout at the time, and she found us at our sporting events and figured we'd do well in her team. We all signed up without a thought," Eddy explained. He paused, then, "Judy appointed Emily as her assistant and had Emily develop our strategies and such. She mostly worked on developing Michael's technique. Michael was made captain. They started arguing a few months later."
That was interesting. Seemed like their arguing had started because of the roles they had been given. Michael might be captain, but Emily was the brains behind the strategies. Two strong personalities bickering over positions. What an interesting relationship that would be if it ever became a reality.
"I'm going to talk to Michael. I want you two to apologize to Emily otherwise Judy will hear about this."
"All right, that seems reasonable," Eddy said. "I'll leave you to it."
Steven grumbled. "Fine, fine. I'll apologize even though I did nothing wrong."
Now that was settled, it was time to work on getting to the crux of the problem by talking to Michael. The captain had finished talking to the girls and was now on his way to the dressing room. Rick reached him before he even managed to set a foot inside. "Not so fast, Michael. You have some explaining to do."
Turning around, Michael glowered and said, "About Emily? There's nothing that needs to be said."
"She's sitting on the hotel floor room in tears because of you."
A brief flash of regret showed in his eyes, but it was gone just as quickly. "I don't care." He tried to leave, but Rick grabbed his arm and held him back. Michael pulled his arm free and glared. "What the hell, man? What do you want from me?"
"I want an explanation. Why'd you have to be so cruel?"
"Because she's been asking for it? Call it a little payback if you want. I'm sick of her always treating me like I'm some… stupid jock who can't do a single damn thing right. I'm sick of her always interfering in business that isn't her own. The way she talks, the way she acts… Every single fucking movement she makes annoys me!" He made an annoyed grunt then carried on. "It's like she thinks she's in charge. Hell, she thinks she can beat me in a beybattle."
That was… quite the rant, he thought. "Sounds to me like you've paying her a lot of close attention to notice all these things." He almost smirked but managed to keep his expression neutral.
Michael frowned. "It's hard not to when she just happens to be everywhere, I look. How am I not supposed to take any notice when she's always in my face?"
"Eddy and Steven don't have these problems with Emily."
"That's because Emily isn't obsessed with them like she is with me."
Rick cocked an eyebrow, amused. So, Michael thought Emily was obsessed with him? Obsessed wasn't the word he was looking for. "Have you ever considered the possibility Emily might actually want to be your friend?" More than that. He had suspicions of it at first, but thought their rivalry was more like a brother-sister thing. But now after having seen Emily breaking down…
"She's got a funny way of showing it."
"Put yourself in her shoes for a moment, Michael. Think it through. And I mean, really think. Emily came up with strategies for the team. She didn't do it because she had to, but because she wanted to. Why would she choose to focus most of her efforts on developing your strategy?" Michael remained silent, thoughtful. "Why do you think she's always at your side?"
"To keep an eye on me so she can point out my faults… Seems to be a hobby of hers," he muttered.
He was missing the point. Rick sighed. This was going to be difficult. "She cares for you, Michael, and you're too blinded by your own arrogance that you can't see that. It hurts me to be the one who must tell you something as obvious as daylight. You're the reason she's in tears right now, and if you had any sort of decency left in you, you'd make her feel better by apologizing."
Michael was silent.
"I've hurt a lot of people in my life. For a long period of time, I didn't care. All I cared about was satisfying myself and I didn't care how many people I had to beat down to get to the top." Shame poured through him. He had watched some of his earlier battles from the previous tournament and it made him sick seeing how he had acted back then. No wonder the team had been disliked. "But I learned that wasn't the path to happiness. That's not who I wanted to be. The old me would not have hesitated to slug you in the jaw. Don't get me wrong; I'm tempted because you deserve it, but I won't do that because I'm better than that."
"So, what do you want me to do?"
"Are you seriously asking me that? I think you know deep down what needs to be done."
Rather than give Michael another chance to justify himself, Rick turned his back.
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The pain and anguish in Enrique's voice made it obvious there was something terribly wrong. If only he could see it with his own two eyes, but he was stuck. He tried pushing the chair aside, but it wouldn't budge. Oliver was injured, and he was unable to do anything about it. His phone had slipped out of his pocket and into the creek.
"Oliver? Oliver!"
"Enrique?" he heard Oliver murmur.
At least the boy was alive. "You've been hurt bad."
"What's… What's going on?"
"We were pushed off the road," Robert answered, holding back a hiss of pain. "Someone wanted us out of the picture." Which was weird. Aside from the Dark Bladers, who else bore a grudge against the Majestics?
"We have to get out of here. Can you move?"
He heard a grunt, followed immediately by a sharp hiss of pain and a strained cry. "I-I can't move my legs, Enrique," he heard Oliver speak in between pained gasps. "My legs… I-I think they're caught. They're stuck beneath the chair. I'll try – argghh!" Another pained cry. How Robert wished he could wriggle free of his current position.
"How bad is it?" Robert called out.
There was shuffling. Enrique cursing the broken glass. Then more shuffling. "I'm going to try and pull it off you." Well, at least Enrique could get to Oliver. Not physically being able to see what was going on was agonizing. He heard grunting. Heavy panting. More cursing then a yelp of pain.
"Stop! Stop pushing! You can't do anything!"
"Your leg is caught beneath the chair. I can't free it without…" Enrique didn't finish his sentence, and Robert was filled with dread. If his leg was caught and unable to be freed, did that mean the only way to free Oliver was to have the leg surgically removed by the medical team? "We need a medical team here. Robert, have you got your phone on you? Mine's been crushed and Oliver's one is stuck under the chair too."
"It's in the water now. Check Pierre."
"Onto it."
More shuffling. And… sobbing? Oliver. Maybe Enrique's words had dawned upon him and he'd figured out the only solution here was to have a leg removed to survive. Enrique swore again. More bad news. "Pierre's… Pierre's not breathing," he said tonelessly.
A life lost. An innocent person's life ended within seconds. Hard to believe they were driving down the road moments ago. Now here they were fighting to stay alive. He rarely felt anger. Anger was a Johnny emotion to experience frequently, but on this occasion, he felt pure anger. Someone, some careless uncivilized lout, had done this. They hadn't even bothered to stick around to help proving it had been done intentionally. If he managed to find them… he would show no mercy.
"Find his phone."
"But-"
"Find it, Enrique. Pierre's lost to us, but we can still help Oliver. We need an ambulance here now."
No time for grieving yet. That could wait, but the most important thing now was saving Oliver's life. He heard Enrique groaning about 'too much blood' and 'it smells so bad' but the boy had found the phone. He could hear the ringing from his position and Enrique speaking into it. To his credit, Enrique managed to remain calm whilst speaking. "Hello, hello? I'm reporting a vehicle crash on Highway 52. What? Yes. That's right."
That was a short call which had ended rather abruptly. His thoughts were broken when he heard another pained cry escape through Oliver's lips. "I can't feel my legs," he said. "Gods… I can't feel them."
What was supposed to have been a peaceful trip to register the team had ended in tragedy. Registering online would've been the smarter choice after all… None of this would've happened then. His choice in attending the venue had led to this, and he couldn't shake off the feeling he was the one at fault here.
And he couldn't do anything about it. Never had he felt so useless before. His ancestors would be so disappointed. His parents would be embarrassed to know of this had they still been alive. He was their leader. It was his job to protect them and instead he led them to their downfall. Pierre dead. Oliver on the brink of losing it all. Enrique was only just keeping it together for the sake of Oliver. As for Johnny, he had no idea where he was.
Was this the end of the Majestics?