Thanks to Moon and Blossoms and James Birdsong for reviewing the previous chapter
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Chapter Five: Unanswered Questions
Drop out of the tournament and forget about defending his world title. If it had come from Kenny, he might've understood, but Kai had suggested it. Kai had wanted him to pull out of the tournament. The very idea was foolish! Hide in the shadows and wait it out? That wasn't the way the Bladebreakers did things. Never turn your back on an enemy. Don't show any signs of weakness. Surely, it had to be some cruel joke?
Kai believed they were in danger. He believed someone had intentionally wanted Stanley out of the way, but for what purpose? What did Mr. Dickinson know? Is that why he had been killed? Because he knew too much? So many questions and the only answer he received was silence.
And what did it mean for the tournament? Would it even still go ahead without Mr. Dickinson's support? Who would take over the reins? Quitting would be easy, but Tyson never took the easy way out. Quitting would only prove he was scared. Sighing, he dug a hand into his pocket and pulled out his blade, examining the bitchip. "What do you think I should do, Dragoon?" Tyson said.
No immediate response. He sighed again. Not that it really mattered much. Dragoon would tell him it was something that he had to decide himself, and not be influenced by anyone else. Sighing again, he put his blade away and looked up. A pink and orange hue stretched across the normally blue sky. Night would soon be upon them, and that's when the nerves would surface.
Did these mysterious assailants have a base someplace within the city? Were they locals or foreigners? Why would they attack now of all times? Why not in an earlier tournament? What was so special about this year? What exactly had Mr. Dickinson done to the world to deserve such a death? So many questions, but each one had no answer.
He was standing in the exact same place Stanley had died. The stage was still there waiting to be examined by the experts. "I don't know what to do," he said, speaking to the ground, as if the man was buried there. "You made me who I am today. Without your support, I'd still be that amateur blader hoping to make it big. I wouldn't have been able to travel the world and meet so many great people without you."
Every blader he had crossed paths with had made him a little bit stronger. Every battle taught him something new about himself. Each battle helped him hone the natural skills he had to the next level. It was hard to think of an alternative life. Where would he be now if not for the BBA? He continued to talk to the man as if he were still alive.
"I just need an answer. My heart tells me to stay with the BBA, but my head says otherwise. I don't know who targeted you and why, but Kai thinks it was a planned attack. What did you do, Mr. Dickinson? If you were in danger, why didn't you seek help?" His shoulders sagged.
His words were obviously falling on deaf ears, but it brought him some brief respite. Just having the chance to voice his fears out aloud lessened the worries gripping his stomach. He was torn. Torn for his loyalty towards the BBA. Torn towards his loyalty towards his friends, the people who had been at his side since the beginnings of the BBA. Refusing Kai's suggestion could bring harm to his friends. One life had already been lost. He didn't want to see more friends join the dead.
"People are scared. There's no one willing to step up and lead the BBA. They're terrified as to what will happen again next. Maybe they're right to be afraid. How do we fight against something we can't even see?" He sighed again, digging a hand into his pocket, reaching for his Dragoon. He found comfort in touching it. "I don't want to be the one to make this decision. It's too big. No matter what course of action I take, someone will hurt, and I will take the blame."
He kneeled down and lowered his head, biting hard on his lower lip to hold the tears at bay. Every time he closed his eyes, he visualized Stanley's death. Despite not being present at the time, it didn't take much imagination to picture a gun being fired and the bullet in Stanley's head. The blood on the bullet. The pool around Stanley's body when he collapsed on the ground.
"Why is it that no matter how hard we try, something goes wrong? We try to do what's good for the world, but there's always someone out there that has to spoil it for the rest of us. What's the point in even trying if we're all going to die in the end?"
It was like a vicious cycle, and he was trapped within it, unable to ever break free to taste peace and freedom. Perhaps he was cursed the moment he signed up for the BBA. It can't have been a coincidence that all the bad started happening when his name became known across the world. Some labelled him as a hero, but he was starting to think he was public enemy number one.
Curling his fingers into a fist, Tyson slammed the ground, tears streaming down his cheeks. He was trembling from a mixture of fear, anger and grief. Fear of the unknown. Anger at the ones who were behind Stanley's death. Grief for the man who gave him a chance no one else would. He allowed himself to shed a few more tears, the overwhelming emotions becoming too much.
"I just want an answer. What is the right path to take? Follow my heart and risk losing the ones I love or betray what made me and save those that I care about but have my reputation tainted beyond repair?" Hand still in pocket, Tyson released a surprised gasp when he felt a warmth come from the blade. Dragoon was listening.
Tyson.
"Dragoon?"
Your heart is heavy with burden.
"I'm conflicted, Dragoon. I don't know… what to do…"
You do know. You've been doing it all your life. Standing up for what's right even if it's an unpopular decision.
Refusing Bega's offer was the first one that came to mind. Refusing to give up on Kai during the Demolition Boy's reign of terror was another. Most people would've taken the popular decision, but not Tyson. "This is different, Dragoon. I wouldn't be anything without the BBA."
Turning your back on them now doesn't mean you've closed the doors forever.
"What do you think I should do?"
I can't make that decision for you, Tyson, but I will always support you, no matter what path you choose to take.
Drawing in a deep breath, Tyson wiped the tears away. Stanley would not want him kneeling. Kai would be most displeased and probably be embarrassed that he lost to him if he saw him like this. Rei and Max would be a little more understanding but they too would expect him to be strong. He was the blader all bladers wanted to be. The one to make the tough decisions when needed.
He glanced down at the murder spot again then rose to his feet. "I'm not doing this because I want to… but because I have to. I know you'd understand, but I can't… won't let other people suffer. I promise I will find those who harmed you, and I will put an end to them. It won't bring you back, but at least justice will be served."
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Mystel sat down on the chair, staring at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts. He was at the bowling alley with his teammates again, but he was barely paying attention to his surroundings. All he could think about was Mariah and why she hadn't texted back. Normally, she'd sent him a few texts a day for random conversation, but today? There was nothing. Had something gone wrong on the flight to Japan?
"Hey Mystel – Mystel? – hello? Earth to blondie, are you there?"
Mystel broke out of his thoughts and looked up. Ming Ming was looking down at him, waving a hand in his face, her brows furrowed. "Don't call me blondie."
"So you are with us after all. I was going to tell Brooklyn to throw some water at your face to wake you up from whatever you were daydreaming about. Whatever it was, it must've been happy because you were smiling." She brought a hand forward. In her hand was a large plastic clear cup with a yellow straw. "Garland brought some of his homemade smoothie stuff along."
Ah, so that's why there was an esky there. He was wondering what reason there was for having an esky inside the bowling alley. The place did sell drinks. He accepted the drink from Ming Ming and took a sip. Mango flavour. Ming Ming knew him well. She sat down beside him. "What's going on, Mystel? It's not normally like you to not pay attention."
"Pondering the meaning of life," he replied, no sarcasm intended. "Look at us. Look at what we've become. There was a time people wanted to be like us, and now the entire world would be happy to watch us burn." He then snorted. "I don't know what's worse – the lives we lived before or the lives we live now."
Ming Ming sat down next to him, hands resting on her lap. "It's like we no longer exist anymore. My sales have plummeted. Only the diehard fans purchase my recordings now."
"And I'm back to being unknown."
"I thought you preferred it that way?"
He forced a dry laugh. "I used to think being unknown was a good thing, but once you've had a taste of fame…"
"It's nice to be appreciated, isn't it?" she said, finishing his sentence. "To have people look up to you and want to be like you. I remember people used to come to my signings with merchandise. It made them all so happy to have my signature on it. It was a nice feeling. And now? It's all gone. No one cares anymore."
"All because Boris was revealed to be a crook, and Brooklyn had to go and lose his mind, tearing apart the stadium in the process." One big childish tantrum, but in his defence, Brooklyn had never known what it was like to have lost at something. It was such a foreign experience to him that it made him lash out in anger.
"You can't hate him for it, Mystel. What happened was out of anyone's control."
"I just wonder… do you think we should've tried harder at reaching out to him beforehand?" Not that anyone should be taking any advice from himself, but perhaps a crisis could have been averted if they had acted like a true team. "The Bladebreakers… the White Tigers… What they have with each other isn't something that we have."
"Complete trust in each other, and full support no matter the result."
He nodded. Many people often assumed Ming Ming was just some empty-headed pop star, but she was a lot smarter than what people gave her credit for. "On the plus side, at least no one wants to start a fight with us." Because they knew they wouldn't be able to compete on the same level. The only team that he considered worthy opponents was the Bladebreakers, but they rumours stated they had disbanded. Only Tyson remained to compete.
There was silence then Ming Ming stood up. "It's my turn to bowl next. I'm so close to overtaking Garland. Wish me luck. I'd love to see the disappointment on his face when I win."
"All the best Ming Ming. I know you can do it."
She smiled, then walked away to replace Garland. He wasn't alone for very long when Brooklyn took Ming Ming's spot. "You've got that expression on your face that reads, 'she didn't text me. Whatever shall I do with my life?"
"I don't have time for your jokes, Brooklyn." To think this was the same guy who almost single-handedly destroyed the world last year. "Why don't you just go back to the game or something?"
Brooklyn pouted, placing a hand over his heart. "You're breaking my heart, Mystel. I wanted to check up on you. You're oddly quiet today and that's worrisome." Was that actual concern in his tone? It was hard to tell with Brooklyn whether he was being serious or not. Even if he was, he seemed to have a natural talent in making every sentence sound sarcastic. What a skilled person he was. "Wait – let me guess. It's that girl with the pink hair, right?"
"Her name is Mariah."
"Rei's former flame, yeah?"
Mystel narrowed his eyes. "Rei and Mariah were never an item."
"Oh, I must've misread the signals then. Can't blame me, really. Hard to keep track of all the drama going on around us."
"What exactly is your point, Brooklyn, if you even have one?"
"You might have trouble believing me, but I speak as a concerned teammate and friend. Mariah isn't worth your time. She's only going to make life difficult for you, and it can't get any worse than the shit storm we're already in." He pointed to the bowling lanes. "Look at us. We're bowling for Zeus's sake! We should be out there practicing, but we don't have the financial support to compete in the tournament. This is what we do now to pass the time – partake in these awful team bonding exercises."
"And?"
He threw his hands up in the air and gave a frustrated sigh. "She's not worth the extra baggage, Mystel. Ditch her before you become too invested in her. She comes from a traditional tribe, yes? Do you really think her people have you in their sights, especially after what happened last year?"
Surely, Mariah would fight against the teachings of her tribe? She fought for what mattered to her. She wouldn't end her friendship with him for the sake of keeping her people happy. Would she? He frowned. "You don't know that for certain."
"You underestimate me, Mystel. I'm more observant than you think. I've heard people say losing is tough, but nothing is more painful than a broken heart. We're only managing to hang on here. If you fall off the radar then what becomes of the rest of us?"
"You are full of wisdom today," he said curtly, not at all pleased with the current direction this conversation was taking. Brooklyn was no fool. He said what was on his mind even if his words were blunt and direct, and often he was more right than wrong. But Mariah… She wouldn't abandon him for the sake of her tribe. She was old enough now to look out for herself, surely?
Brooklyn shrugged, not at all phased by Mystel's sarcastic remark. "You hate me now, but you'll thank me in due time." He stood up. "You might not want to skip your turn again or you'll get the loser award for the month, and you know what the entails – being stuck with the chores." He walked over to join the rest of the group.
At this point, he didn't care about being the loser of the month. Losing Mariah permanently would be so much worse. But what if Brooklyn was correct? What if the smart-mouthed ginger blader was right about this? What if Mariah remained loyal to her tribe instead? The only part he missed about the life before Bega was the stress-free lifestyle. Now he had this to worry about.
"Mystel – it's your turn," Garland called out.
Placing his smoothie on the bench, Mystel rose to his feet and walked over to the lane. At least it would provide a temporary distraction from the thoughts Brooklyn had just implanted in his mind.
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Nothing could be worse than being stuck in an office with Emily. Even being stuck in a room with the Blitzkrieg Boys would be heaven compared to this nightmare. At least they liked the silence. He folded his arms, and leaned back in the leather chair, refusing to make eye contact with the girl. Maybe if he pretended that she wasn't there, she'd cease to exist.
Judy sat behind the table. He noticed the black bags beneath her eyes, and he didn't fail to notice how many times she rubbed her temples. When was the last time she had a proper sleep? He almost felt sorry for her.
"Now… what was the cause of this nonsense?"
"My laptop was working fine yesterday. I tried to turn it on after lunch today, but it wouldn't power up," Emily explained, then looked sideways at him. "I left it in the living room. Michael, Eddy and Steve were playing some stupid game. Michael probably carried out some dare and played around with my laptop without my consent."
Michael glowered. "For the last time, I didn't touch your laptop! I have better things to do than play with your belongings."
"Such as what?" she said curtly. "Play video games? Admire yourself in the mirror?"
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
She gave an exasperated sigh. "There's a tournament coming up. I don't see how playing video games and admiring yourself in the mirror makes you a better blader."
"How would you know? You've never even tried."
"I wouldn't waste my time. I'd rather be doing something productive."
Michael rolled his eyes again and threw his hands up in the air. "See what I have to put up? She's unbelievable!" he exclaimed. "She doesn't even care about blading, so I don't see why she's still on the team!" Perhaps that was taking things a little too far, but he didn't care. Emily thought herself superior to everyone else and acted like she oversaw the team.
"I'm on the team because I'm responsible for recording all the data. If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't be able to track our progress," she fired back. "I don't see how you are contributing to the team, Michael. I may not be the strongest blader, but I'm doing something for us at least!"
Judy raised her hands before either party could get in another word. "This is ridiculous," she said. "We are a professional team and I expect you to behave like you are part of one. This bickering has to stop or both of you will be forced to forfeit your positions on the team."
Emily's mouth dropped open. "You can't do that, Judy!"
Even Michael was surprised. That was a serious threat. "You can't be serious. We're the best that you've got."
Judy's expression hardened. "We've been training bladers for years now. You are not irreplaceable. If you value the team as highly as you claim then you will learn to cooperate. Is that understood?"
When she put it like that, Michael could not see how he could argue with logic. After all, she had brought in Rick and although he hated to admit it, Rick was a talented blader. He was a little rough around the edges, but thanks to Max's efforts, the man mountain had softened up. He could now last a day without wanting to punch Rick in the face. That was a major improvement.
"Understood," Emily said.
"Yeah, I get it," he said. Great. Now he had to cooperate with Emily or get booted off the team. How was he supposed to remain civil with her when he felt a surge of annoyance every time she opened her mouth? "What else is new, Judy?" Aside from the death of Stanley Dickinson of course, but he wasn't too concerned. He didn't know the man on a personal level to care.
"I've got a meeting to attend at a restaurant this weekend."
Emily arched a brow. "That's an odd day for a meeting. I thought you would be meeting your son and former partner for a dinner?"
Judy shook her head. "No… This is important."
More important than reuniting with her family she didn't see very often. No wonder people often found Judy to have a cold exterior. "I'm leaving you in charge, Emily. You'll have to direct the staff. We're on stage four of the new beyblade technology. I think another week or two, it will be ready for testing."
Emily nodded, pleased. Just exactly the news he wanted to hear. Emily in charge. It would make her already big head even bigger.
"What do you want the rest of us to do then, Judy? Kiss the ground Emily walks on?"
Emily glowered. She opened her mouth to protest, but Judy silenced her with a glare. "Michael, remember, cooperation. I am not joking about this. I want you and the boys to train some of the upcoming bladers. It'll keep your skills in shape. You boys lost a year because of the rulings last year… Here's your chance to make up for lost time."
Being replaced by Rick and Max hadn't exactly been his idea of a good time. They went from being the American powerhouses to cheerleaders. Any chance to take back some dignity would be good. Perhaps they could even reclaim some of that respect their team had lost during the Rick era. "Who are we battling against then?"
"Do you remember Tony and Andy, the newest recruits?"
"The artist and the DJ wannabe?" Michael replied.
Judy nodded. "They've reached level three now. They're much stronger than they were. I'd like you to train against them."
How insulting. Pitting them against trainees. Judy must've thought they were getting rusty if she thought the trainees were on equal level. He snorted. "Fine. I'll get Steve and Eddy. Will Rick be joining in the fun?"
"No."
Of course. After Max, Rick was the favourite. Maybe this is what Judy wanted. A bit of competition between the members. She probably thought it was healthy. The woman was so clueless at times, but how was he supposed to argue with the boss? "Fine."
"They're probably at the merry-go-round," Emily interjected.
"Thanks for the help, Emily. I doubt I would've found them on my own," he replied sarcastically.
She just smirked. "My pleasure."
"Meeting dismissed."
Both Michael and Emily stood up from their chairs. Together, they left the room, but refused to say even one word. No reason to speak with Emily, and she had no reason to speak with him. They exited the room then parted ways. Emily was heading in the direction of the computer labs, whilst Michael made his way outside.
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"I never thought I'd see the great champion on his knees," a voice drawled from behind.
Tyson glanced over his shoulder. A male teenager was standing a few feet away, dressed in a simple tee shirt and grey shorts. He didn't look familiar. "I'm sorry, but you are?"
"I suppose you've spent too much time at the top that you don't even remember the people beneath you, isn't that right, Tyson?" The boy sighed. "I can't say I'm surprised you've forgotten – you and your team forgot about me quickly. The name is Alexander. I was the blader you battled against before the Russian tournament. You made a fool of me, and I was cast aside like I was trash."
Oh, now he remembered. It was the day they had arrived in Russia. The same day they first crossed paths with Boris and his Biovolt facility. "We didn't even know where you had been dragged off."
"You didn't even try!" the boy snapped, pointing a finger at him. "I was brought to the dungeon and punished for my failure! For hours I suffered through agonizing pain all because I had lost! You didn't care! Kai didn't care! You never even once tried to find what happened to me! You were all so caught up in your own world that you didn't spare me a thought!"
Tyson narrowed his eyes. "Did you come all this way to speak your mind?"
Alexander drew in a deep breath then exhaled. In a more controlled tone, he said, "When Kai went missing, you searched for him. Why couldn't you have done the same for me?"
"We had only just arrived, and we knew nothing of Biovolt. How were we supposed to know you had suffered?" Was Alexander connected to Stanley's murder in some weird twisted way? Or was he just some angry blader looking for a chance to even the score? "I'm sorry that we didn't do anything. If we could do our time again, we'd search for you as well."
"You can't undo the past, Tyson. What's done is set in stone and you must live with that decision. I wasn't the only blader who suffered. When Biovolt was brought down, we were all punished. We had no homes to return to, and so we were homeless and freezing. Some of us perished. Those who survived can't function on a normal level anymore because they're traumatized by those events. We have you and your team to thank, Tyson. The BBA brought upon our ruin."
His irritation flared. "That's a lie, and you know it. By defeating Boris's team, we saved the world. Voltaire would've had his weapons for war, and we'd all be suffering then. What we did was for the greater good. And again, I'm sorry for the suffering you endured."
Alexander's expression hardened. "It's always the same with you people. We all started at the same level, but you just happened to be in the right place at the right time. The BBA picked you up, pulled together a team, and sponsored you to travel from continent to continent. You're not that special, Tyson. If it wasn't for the BBA, you'd be just like me."
Tyson gritted his teeth. After many years of silence, now Alexander comes out into the blue just to make a few complaints about how ill-treated he was? "We fought hard to get to where we are now. We saved the world, not once, but three times. That's why we're considered special because we did what no else could do."
"And in your rise to the top, you screwed a bunch of people over. But why would someone with an inflated ego care about the little people, yeah? How many people have hurt along the way? How many hopes and dreams have you crushed with your blade?" Alexander pointed at himself. "People like me! You claim to be a hero, but you're not!"
The boy really held a grudge. Just how much damage had been done against him to make him so sour anyway? There had to be a deeper meaning behind his words. Maybe the boy had lost someone special along the way and had blamed it on the Bladebreakers.
Tyson raised his hands. "I'm not looking for any trouble. There's enough of that going on already."
Alexander drew in a deep breath again, as if calming his nerves to control himself. "And there's going to be a lot more of that coming your way, Tyson. It's what you and your friends deserve. To have the world pitted against you. You think Bega was bad? This is so much worse."
He frowned. "Wait – you know who was behind the attack?"
Alexander snickered. "Haven't you listened to a single word I've said? You ruined so many lives. Don't you think people are going to want a little bit of revenge against the BBA? All it took was for someone to make a stand, pull the trigger and end the life of a man who made the Bladebreakers superstars."
Tyson fell silent. So they did have enemies, people specifically targeting the BBA. People most likely envious of the Bladebreakers rise to the top, and couldn't bear the thought of them winning again. They went to such extreme lengths. What would be their next move? But who was 'their'? Was it just one person? Multiple people? Did they even have a leader? Or were they facing off against rebellious individuals?
"You're not as invincible as you think. The era of the Bladebreakers has come to an end."
"You're wrong. We'll keep fighting as long as long as the world of beyblading is threatened."
Alexander smirked, all anger faded from his eyes. "Just how long can you keep that up for, Tyson?"
"For as long as necessary. I'm not going to stand by and watch innocent people suffer."
"Your words sound so noble, but I've heard this all before and witnessed the lies. Your words are wasted on me."
Tyson held back a growl. Stay in control, he told himself. "So why did you come?"
"Because I wanted to speak with you in person."
"To warn me?"
He shrugged. "I suppose you could think that if it makes you feel better… My father… as cruel as he was… Gave his opponents a fighting chance. He respected his rivals, and it's for that reason, I've approached you."
What a messed up family this boy came from. He wondered how the others would react if they were right now. Would they heed his warning? Or just shrug it off? "Thanks… I guess."
"I'm sure I'll be seeing you again, Tyson." He turned his back and walked away, chuckling to himself.
Tyson stared at Alexander's retreating form, struggling to make sense of what had just happened. How long had he been lurking in the shadows, and did he know anything behind Mr. Dickinson's death? "I should've asked him more questions. Dammit Tyson," he scolded himself.
Was Alexander playing mind games with him, trying to lower his guard to make him more vulnerable? Was there any truth to his words? The unanswered questions made his head hurt. Perhaps Kenny would make better sense of this. Before leaving, he spared one more glance at Stanley's murder spot.
"Whatever it takes… There will be justice."