"What do you mean Stanley Dickinson has died?" Enrique repeated, glancing up from his phone. "I didn't realize he was battling an illness."
Oliver wiped his eyes then drew in a breath before exhaling. "He was murdered at a public appearance. Shot dead by a silent assassin."
Robert didn't voice his opinion on the topic, preferring to listen to all the details on the matter. Johnny knew he was deep in thought, most likely running through potential suspects already. Stanley Dickinson shot dead. Why would someone want to kill a man like that unless someone wanted him out of the way for whatever reason?
"Stanley didn't harm anyone," Enrique stated. "What reason would someone have to justify murdering him in cold blood?"
That was the smartest question Enrique had raised all day. Perhaps he wasn't so clueless after all. "Because he's a triple a threat," Johnny answered. "We didn't have much to do with Stanley, but you have to admit, he had a lot of influence. The man had relations all around the world. He's probably the richest man… Well, was. Influence is power." Perhaps even wealthier than their team combined. That was a worrying thought. "But it shouldn't concern us. Stanley wasn't our sponsor."
"He's dead, Johnny," Oliver said, frowning. "We might not have known the man all that well but pay the man the respect he deserves. He did a lot for the sport."
"And made a mess of the third world cup with all those ridiculous new rules," Johnny said. "We should've taken Barthez Battalion's spot when the allegations of cheating were proven right, but we were refused because it was 'too late'. I say he just didn't want us there to mess up his poster boy's run for another world cup title." Because really the Majestics were the only team in the world that could hold their own ground against the Bladebreakers.
"You just want to face Kai again," Enrique said. "But even so, you won't get the chance because he's retired now. Probably for the best – wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself again."
For once, Johnny held his tongue. Robert was watching him like a hawk and if he wanted to blade in the tournament, he couldn't piss off the team captain further. "Kai won't be retired for long. Dickinson dead, beyblading world thrown into chaos… I think now is a great time to come back to the game and I hope he does. I want to wipe that smug smirk off his stupid face. The world cup isn't the same without some half-decent competition. Let's face it – do we really want to blade in a tournament against amateurs? If it's just Tyson competing, then what's the point?"
"Jonathan raises a solid point," Robert said, finally speaking up. "A world tournament isn't as challenging if the best bladers aren't competing. However, on the other hand, we have never competed in such an event before and I think the rest of the world deserves to know what we are capable of."
Enrique nodded. "The last big match I had was against Tyson in Rome. I'm itching for another chance." He looked to Oliver. "It's awful Stanley has died, but I think we should continue on the fight. What do you say?"
The boy's eyes were red. A new flood of tears rolled down his pallid cheeks. "What difference does fighting make? It's not going to bring him back."
"Hold yourself together," Johnny snapped. "Don't go spilling tears."
Enrique glared. "I think Oliver has a perfectly good reason to be upset. Show a little bit of compassion, Johnny. Or at least try to. It won't kill you."
"Save it for the bedroom where no one can see him make an embarrassment of himself," Johnny retorted. He then looked to Robert for some support. "You have sense. Tell him to stop crying like a little girl. Do we not have our reputations to consider?"
Surely Robert, the most level-headed of the group, would see this as an embarrassment of the team? He always prided himself on remaining calm and in control. Allowing emotions to takeover only led to embarrassing scenes like this. If Oliver had been a girl such an act would be acceptable, but coming from a male? Unacceptable!
"Oliver, you must try to hold it together. I understand you are upset, but we must remain strong," Robert said calmly.
Johnny couldn't see any media hounds, but they were probably outside somewhere, waiting for them to leave them since they had nothing better to do with their miserable lives than make up stories and spread false gossip. What would they come up with this time? "Finally, some fucking sense."
"Jonathan! Do not use such uncouth language!"
"Oh, get over it, Robert. It's just a word."
"And we do not behave like the commonfolk."
Enrique snorted. "Too late for that."
"Shut it, blondie."
Oliver slammed both hands down on the table. The table shook with enough force the water in Johnny's glass poured over the side. "You are all missing the point. Stanley died. A loved and well-respected member of the beyblading family. Someone wanted him dead. To eliminate the competition."
"And? Someone else will just take over," Johnny said.
"You're suggesting something sinister here at work," Robert mused.
"Someone with money." Enrique leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. "A sniper. That's some serious stuff there. Military trained. Someone was paid a lot of money. Who the hell would take a task like that without a good financial deal?"
The blond was an idiot most of the time, but sometimes he came up with stuff that was surprisingly perceptive. All those hours watching those shows on the idiot box had helped. "It's not really a well thought out plan though," Johnny started, cleaning up the spill. "So, he kills Stanley. What does he gain out of it? It's not the like the BBA is just going to collapse."
"But it's effective," Robert replied. "Someone else rises through the ranks and takes the top job. We could have another Boris-like situation on our hands – someone could destroy everything the BBA stands for. They would have all the resources available to them to use at their will."
Johnny furrowed his brows. "… Maybe it's a distraction then. Maybe Stanley knew something. Knew too much and had to be eliminated from the game." A game of thrones and only one person would remain standing.
"It's possible."
"So, what do we do?"
Robert sighed. "We can't do anything. Not yet. We don't know enough. It could still be a freak accident – a random stroke of poor luck. But I think it is highly likely Stanley was involved in something dangerous. Keep your eyes peeled and be on your guard."
"Should we still risk competing then?" Enrique said.
"Yes. It would be nice to socialize with the other teams again. We don't really have much of the opportunity to do so with our busy lives."
Johnny raised a brow. "You want to associate with the commonfolk? And you lecture me on being uncouth." He then flared his nostrils. Uncouth. What a word.
"That's because you are," Enrique pointed out. "You are uncivilized."
"Keep talking and you'll soon be paying for some new teeth."
Enrique sank back in his chair. "… So much for a pleasant reunion…"
"Enrique, stop provoking him," Robert stated as calmly as ever. He grabbed the menu of the table, opened it, and scanned the list of items. "And Jonathan, please. The restaurant might be closed off to the public right now, but they can still see us through the windows as they pass by."
"It's not my fault he's so sensitive," Enrique protested.
"I am not sensitive!"
Enrique held out a hand. "See what I mean?"
Johnny gripped the edges of the table so firmly his knuckles were stinging. "Maybe if you stopped talking, I wouldn't have anything to complain about!"
"Maybe you should stop replying to every comment I make."
"And give you the satisfaction of feeling like you've won? Ha! Never!"
Enrique raised his hands. "Why does everything have to be a battle with you?"
Molten lava poured through him. He didn't stop to think. He just reacted. With a growl, he lunged across the table and swung a fist, desperate to wipe that stupid smirk of Enrique's dumb face. His left elbow knocked the glass bottle down. Water poured across the table.
Enrique jerked back, narrowing avoiding his fist. "Hey, what the hell?!" He surged to his feet.
Robert was on his feet in a flash. He grabbed his arm, his hold firm. "Jonathan! Leave at once."
It was like a bolt of lightning had hit the room. A deathly silence. Johnny wrenched himself free of Robert's hold and glared at him then regretted it almost immediately. Robert's eyes were like black fire. A sight rarely seen. "Robert-"
Robert pointed to the door. "I will be cancelling your flight. You will have to organize it yourself now if you wish to compete in the tournament. This petulance will not be tolerated. Go."
Johnny's jaw dropped. Was this really happening? Had Robert just sent him away? "Are you shitting me?"
"Leave at once. Do not make me ask you again."
He hated them all. Every. Single. One. "I can't believe this."
"Go."
He was giving him directions as if he were some dog. The disrespect. Johnny growled. "What did you say?"
"I believe you know what a door is. You will see yourself out."
Johnny backed away from the table and flipped his middle finger. "You know what? Fuck you! Fuck all of you! Fuck this bullshit about being a team because we're not one and you know it!" But why stop now? It wasn't like he could rewind the clock and go back in time. Maybe he was acting like a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum, but he was past the point of caring now.
"Seems someone skipped anger management class," Enrique said with a rueful grin.
"Jonathan…" Robert started.
Seething, Johnny retorted. "Just shut up! Shut the fuck up! I don't want to hear another one of your lame lectures on being an upstanding citizen! I don't answer to you – or anyone else for that matter! The Majestics competing as a team for the tournament is just a dream, Robert. I'm done with this shit. I'm better off without you fuckers – you'll only hold me back."
Blood pounding in his head, Johnny turned his back and stormed off, making sure to slam the door as forcefully as he could.
.
Another year, another new tournament. Usually, Kai would feel a spark of excitement at the word tournament, but this time there was no fire burning in his belly. That desire to hold the trophy and show it off to the world wasn't there. What was the point? Tyson had defeated him at his best. To carry on fighting an uphill battle was pointless. The war had been won and he was on the losing side.
He didn't know what the rest of his teammates were planning on doing. Even though he tolerated their presence, he preferred to keep out of the public eye, trying to limit his attendance at public events. To be beneath the spotlight and constantly followed by cameras wasn't a life he desired, and so he chose to find comfort in the shadows. Perhaps he would've attended more events if money was an issue, but he had inherited Voltaire's fortune after the man had been sent to jail for life.
He had all the money in the world, but he still felt he lacked something, and he wasn't sure what it was. It was like a gnawing pit of hunger in his stomach that just wouldn't go away. No matter how much he ate, his stomach was always empty. Just as empty as this park was now.
Kai was at the park where Mr. Dickinson had been shot dead just hours ago. What was once a blossoming park had now become a graveyard for a cruel murder. The trees were in full blossom now and normally there'd be large crowds admiring them, but now the petals fell in silence.
He walked over to the stage where the man had been shot. He climbed over the police tape and kneeled at the place the man had died, then glanced up. The news had stated Mr. Dickenson had been taken down by a sniper. The man must've been hiding in one of the apartment buildings that had a clear view. One bullet, one pull of the trigger, and death had followed shortly afterwards.
Another player in the game. Someone who obviously saw the chairman as a threat. Someone who felt he was so dangerous that he needed to be taken out of the game permanently. But who? Who would be so desperate to commit such a vile act? Voltaire was rumoured to be behind bars (and reported dead by many sources though Kai wasn't so sure about that), and nor could it be Boris because he was behind bars too.
Barthez was also in jail and Gideon had died during their time on that island a few years back. Dr. Zagart? He was the man responsible for releasing powerful bitbeasts from a rock, but his intentions had been noble, despite being a little twisted and extreme. The man had only wanted to save his son.
Someone else from the abbey, perhaps? A loose bolt. He wouldn't be surprised considering the history of that place. More madmen inspired by Boris and Voltaire might've carried out this act to make a name for themselves and secure a place in history for all the wrong reasons. For once in his life, he didn't have the answers or any theories, and that unnerved him.
"Kai?"
Kai heard his name and turned around. Tyson, the reigning world champion. Once upon a time he had been envious of the boy's natural skill, but now he had come to admire him for his talents. Tyson had defied all the odds and grown into someone he could consider a true friend. "Tyson," Kai acknowledged with a slight tilt of his head. "I wasn't expecting your ugly mug."
Tyson chuckled. "My adoring fans would disagree with you. I'm quite handsome. You know I was voted hottest beyblader on that poll by Cosmo."
"Ah," Kai replied with a grin. "I must remind myself to buy you a dictionary for your birthday. Your understanding doesn't quite match up with the listed one."
Tyson gasped. "Did you just smile? I was worried your face might crack."
"Smiling?" Kai shook his head. "I was just stretching my face muscles."
The amused smirk from Tyson's face faded. Harmless banter now aside, it was time to focus on the more urgent matters. "You heard about it too then. Why else would you be here right now?" Tyson said, glancing down at the place of death. "What do you think happened?"
"I'd say it was planned. Someone wanted Stanley dead and now was the perfect time to strike." Kai looked back at Tyson meeting his dark eyes with his own. "Kill the man just as the rules for the upcoming tournament have been shared. Kill him as the hype builds. What a better way to throw the blading world into chaos and unsettle a global audience?"
Tyson rubbed the bridge of his nose, frowning. "You think there's going to be more attacks, don't you?"
There was a long pause before he answered again. "Yes, and I think it will happen when all the hype has died down. I think another attack against the BBA will happen just as soon as we become comfortable again."
"Any theories as to who it could be?"
Kai shook his head. "No. All possible suspects are in jail or at a rehabilitation clinic."
Tyson sighed. "So, we know nothing. That's a great start."
"We'll find something. We just have to look for it."
Tyson raised a brow. "We don't even know where to start."
"Give it some time, Tyson. Someone will find something and that'll be enough for us to learn more." Kai turned his head to the side. "You need to watch yourself or you could end up like that too."
"You really think they'll come after us?"
Kai looked up again. "Come on, Tyson. You're not stupid. The BBA is most recognized name in the world of beyblading. Who doesn't want something from the company? The BBA may have no leader, but they still have power, money and influence, many things a lot of people want for themselves. If I were in your shoes, I would distance myself from the BBA until this problem is resolved."
As expected, Tyson forced a laugh. "Keep my distance from the BBA? I know you don't joke often, but I really hope this is one of those rare occasions."
Kai sighed. "Think about it. You are the BBA's poster boy, Tyson. You're the number one target now. Enemies of the BBA will want to target you and your allies next. I know you want to defend your title, but is it worth the risk of losing your life?" Tyson didn't reply. He was thinking hard about Kai's words. That's one thing Kai liked about Tyson – he was willing to listen.
"You're suggesting that I withdraw from the tournament?"
Kai shrugged. "It's a good idea. Declare yourself an enemy to the BBA. Cut off all ties with the organization and you won't be a threat. Whoever did this didn't like what the BBA represented."
"That's insane." Tyson shook his head. "I won't do it. I can't turn my back. Mr. Dickinson made me who I am today, Kai. Turning against the BBA would be like… spitting on his grave and defacing it."
Kai took one step towards Tyson, closing the distance between them, his eyes fixed on Tyson's face. He had to make the boy see reason. "You're not the only one who was given a chance, Tyson. Stanley changed me as a person too. He brought a divided team together and gave us the chance to compete in a global tournament. He's given me more chances than I deserve, but this is the only way I can think of that will protect us. We can't do anything to help the BBA if we are buried six feet under."
Silence again. Tyson was obviously still deep in thought. After a few moments, he spoke up again. "You should blade in the tournament. I know you don't want to but think about it."
"There might not even be a tournament now."
"They can't back out now so close. Think about all the money that will be lost." Tyson shook his head.
"I have nothing left to prove."
"You just said Mr. Dickinson changed your life. So, fight for him. For justice. He would've wanted you to continue the battle and find the truth." He made a fist and held it up before him. "We will have justice. This tournament is a chance to honour him… A good reason to blade again."
Typical Tyson. He would never give up without a fight. Perhaps he had been wrong to retire from professional beyblading. The fire still burned in Tyson. The passion could be ignited in him too. "This might be a battle we can't win."
Tyson looked at him. "I'm not going to give up. I'm a world champion. I didn't get my title by throwing in the towel when things got tough. Are you with me? Because I know you aren't a quitter, Kai. I'm not going to stop you if you choose to walk, but this fight will be much better with you at our side."
Kai sighed. "You don't know when to quit, do you?"
"I was always a slow learner, but I mean it Kai – we can't let some punk threaten the world of beyblading and you know we're the only ones who can stand up to the chaos. Are you with me?" Tyson looked into his eyes his gaze unflinching.
Kai sighed. Well, that was a short retirement. So much for seeking comfort in the shadows where it was peaceful. "The only reason I'm agreeing to this is because you are a respected friend. If anyone else had asked me, I would've said no." A long pause then, "I think it's a big mistake to battle in this tournament, but I won't let you fight alone."
"Did you ever know me to not make risky plays?"
"That's true." Another pause then, "You will contact the others?"
Tyson nodded. "I will. They'll agree to blade. Come with me."
Kai shook his head. "I have business elsewhere."
Without giving Tyson a chance to reply, Kai turned his heel and retreated into the shadows.