143Summary: As the world prepares for another global tournament, an ancient enemy emerges and threatens to plunge the world into chaos. Can Tyson defend his fourth title, or will his reign finally come to an end?
A/N: I've had my love for Beyblade reignited over recent weeks, so I decided to revisit this old story written way back in 2015! It did get re-uploaded several times with the most recent version in 2017. I have decided to revise the story and fix up some loose ends, rewrite certain scenes, add some extra scenes, and fix up some cringe dialogue. If you read the original version, the plot itself (and the ending) will not change. This is really just a 'cleaned up' version.
This is a dark mature take on the beyblading universe. There's violence. Angst. Profanity and much more! There's also no team of OC girls so that's a refreshing take on the beyblade tournament fic.
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Prologue
Alexander kicked at the ground with the tip of his right foot, sending a small pebble flying. The past week had all been about the G-Revolutions team and their infamous victory against the Bega League at the world tournament. All week long he had seen Tyson's smug face all over the media – newspapers, brochures, posters, advertisements, and the news. His name was even reported on the radio every couple of hours. The world was obsessed with the 'three-time Champion' and Tyson certainly enjoyed the attention.
Switching off the television and refusing to read the paper didn't help either. No matter how hard he tried to get away, something or someone would raise the G-Revolutions name and the familiar emotion of anger rising in his chest would occur again. To make matters worse, Tyson had announced that he would be returning to the beystadium to defend his title for a fourth time. Anger swelled up in his belly like a fire being lit. Did he not know when to quit?
His friends weren't as enthusiastic about the idea at least. They had enough sense to know when to quit. Rei, Max, Daichi and Kai had all publicly come forward with separate announcements of their retirement from the professional side of the sport. Tyson had defeated them at their best and the boys knew there was no longer any point in trying anymore.
But Tyson, being Tyson, had yet to grasp this.
He kicked at another pebble on the ground. What made Tyson so powerful? How had a rookie blader like him become so strong? It was something Alexander couldn't understand. He had dedicated his life to becoming a beywarrior under the strict yet watchful eye of Boris, yet here he was on the streets without a place to call home.
It was all thanks to Tyson and his friends. Curling his fingers into fists, he sauntered down the street, his lips pressed into a thin line. Vile memories flooded his mind. Darkness. A leering face. Purple bruises in all sorts of places. Mocking laughter. Coldness. He stopped before a poster of Tyson pinned up on a streetlight and looked up.
"They call you a champion, but you're nothing but a monster," he said through clenched teeth. He picked up a pebble and threw it at the poster leaving a dent in the centre of Tyson's forehead. "Do you know what happened to me? Do you even care? You have your trophies. That's all that matters to you. Glory. But at what cost?"
He spat at the dirt. Boris. Kai. Voltaire. Tyson. Everyone. They were all liars and deserved to be punished. He wanted nothing more than to expose them to the world for the hypocrites they truly were. To watch them suffer and feel his pain. Maybe then they would understand.
A strong breeze swept the street. Pink blossom leaves flew past him, carried further down the street, only to be dropped as the breeze died. He bent over and picked one up. "One moment we are blossoming, but that moment is fleeting. Then it's just death," he murmured, dropping it on the floor. He stomped on it, hard, and twisted his foot, crushing the petal.
Laughter filled the air. Alexander ventured through the gates and followed the twisting cobblestone path towards the centre of the park. An exhibition match was to be held in the G-Revolution's honour. Tyson was a hometown hero and people wanted to celebrate him. As if the boy needed a bigger head on his shoulders. Organized by Hilary, the match was supposed to raise funds for a blading charity, but he was certain the team would earn their fair share.
He walked across fallen cherry blossoms and approached the centre stage, keeping himself distanced from the people. Fans cried out for their idols to come out and play. He winced. If only he could drown out their high-pitched squeals, but the voices only became louder. Mr. Dickenson was also said to be making an appearance today. Apparently, he would be announcing the long-awaited changes to the upcoming tournament.
It didn't take him long to reach the event ground. As expected, there were hundreds of people already present. He wouldn't be surprised if these people had slept here overnight to get the best possible view of their heroes. Turning his head around, he scanned the environment, searching for a suitable location. His eyes rested on a nearby cherry blossom tree. Surprisingly, no one had even considered climbing it. He supposed they were all far too excited to think straight.
No one even tried to stop him. It was like he wasn't even there. He hoisted himself up the tree then clambered over to a thick branch and waited for the festivities to begin. There was a stage at the front and a pedestal in the middle. Before the stage was a plain beydish. Rows of security guards stood on either side as a cameraman hurried towards the stage to get the best possible angle.
"Oh my gosh, I can't believe we get to see Rei and Max up close and personal!" a girl with long blonde hair squealed.
Her friend, a redhead, replied with her own enthusiastic comment. "Rei is so hot!"
"Max is adorable!" said the third girl, a female with short black hair.
"Kai is totally the best-looking. Have you seen those arm muscles? It's a shame he can't make it today, but I hear they're planning another BBA event soon for all the team members," the blonde girl said. "He's so hot. I feel so weak at the knees when he smiles."
Alexander rolled his eyes. These girls probably didn't even know anything about the sport other than its name. They were just here to look at the so-called 'hot' boys and that was it. He threw them a disgusted look. Fake fans pretending to like something for shallow reasons. It only proved Mr. Dickinson was losing his touch. Anyone with a pretty face could be on that stage now.
"Oooh, here comes Mr. Dickinson now!" the blonde said, pointing to the stage.
Alexander turned back to the stage. Mr. Dickinson hobbled across the stage aided by his walking stick. The man looked greyer than what he remembered – perhaps the stress of the past few years was finally catching up with him. The crowd fell silent as the man walked to the pedestal.
"Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the first BBA public event of 2015!"
The crowd erupted in applause. Mr. Dickinson waited for a couple of moments for the crowd to die down before continuing further.
"As you all know, preparations for the fourth world tournament are well underway. I've staged this event to inform you of the changes that will be taking place this year. We recently held a feedback survey on our website asking for your opinion on last year's tournament. Those of you who replied commented that you enjoyed the designs of the dishes and the intensity of the matches but felt the tag-team format didn't work."
"He's right about that," the redhead girl said. "I mean, it was great watching the best bladers have a go, but there are some cute guys who missed out on all the fun."
Mr. Dickinson cleared his throat. "We carefully reviewed your comments, and we agree with your concerns – this year, we're dropping the tag-team format and returning to what worked well in the first year. There will be eight teams and it will be a best of three battles. Each blader on the team must battle at least two times otherwise the team will be disqualified immediately. We want all bladers to have a fair chance this year."
The crowd stirred to life with a round of applause. "Back to basics, it seems," said another girl.
"Where is the tournament going to be held?"
"As you may well recall, Australia was home to the semi-finals of the recent tag-team tournament. The board and I have decided to allow the country to be the host nation of the fourth world cup. The Australian Beyblading Board has partnered with the New Zealand Beyblading Board to bring you top matches in high quality dishes. Brisbane will host the first round whilst the quarters and semis will happen in Sydney and Melbourne. The final will be held in Queenstown, New Zealand." Another round of applause. The man smiled. "Thirdly, I would like to announce that-"
It took only a split second, and Mr. Dickinson was dead. The man stumbled backwards then fell on his backside, crying out in pain. A bullet square in the back of his head. Brought down by a sniper. Security guards rushed to his side. Panic swept through the crowd. Ecstatic screams of joy had become ones of terror. People who had been fighting for the front stage were now desperately trying to get out. It was like watching trapped animals trying to escape a fire.
It was total chaos. One minute the fans were screaming out the names of their idols, and the next moment there were screams of terror. He could understand their fear – no one would suspect a gunman to shoot the BBA chairmen dead at such a public event. Heck, there had never been a shooting before. Dead. Hard to believe really. If he hadn't witnessed it with his eyes, he would've just disbelieved it. The most powerful man in the sporting world had his breath silenced by a single gunshot to the head.
Alexander climbed down from the tree and walked away from the panicked crowd, smirk tracing his lips. "It seems like there's another player in this game."