Title: The Beginning.
Warnings: Might be quite depressing and mild language.
Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade only this story plot. Do not sue I am a student I have no money.
A/N: Will essentially be in Tyson's POV, this is one of the first couple of times I have tried to write in first person (writing Ty as though I am his character and this is my relating process not his, sort of thing) so I'm not entirely sure how it will turn out. Oh well…practice makes perfect :D
A/N2: Views maybe a bit confusing and/or contradicting but then in such a situation I imagine most would be. What a situation you ask? Ah I'm sure you'll work it out.
A/N 3: I'm SORRY, really I am this has been in the wings for too long!
Reviewers: Thanks to: - EmeraldWolfChild; isthatnecessary and chibid
Chibid: Your really gonna think Ty's guilty now….but! the case isn't over yet:p I know I know I bet this is getting more and more confusing…XD
"(Actions, sounds when not in 1st person)"
#Change of view/Change of scene#
Suggest you listen to Linken Park's 'Crawling' (do not own) while reading the first scene in this. Was going to put it in alongside but not sure on rules for that since so many others do it…
"It's toughest to forgive ourselves"
by Patty Duke.
Japan Wednesday sunrise.
A soft kaleidoscope of orange yellow streaks danced around my eyelids. I'm not usually so awake (or at all) to see the rising of the new sun but then I guess there is a first time for everything.
For a moment I cannot recall where I am or how I got here; here being the primary word.
Where is here?
I seem to be on concrete ground down some back alley in the city, looking at myself I find that I am dirty, ruffled and…
Damn. I was hoping (praying more like) this was all an insane dream caused by one too many junk treats before bed – I really should cut down on those kind of things – especially since they induce some of the most weirdest and anxiety ridden nightmares I've experienced in a long while. Then I remember that I did not get the chance to follow my routine of too much sugar before bed as I barely got through dinner last night before all hell broke loose.
That's the only reason I didn't sleep well and why I am where I am now…in this pathetic position…and I have no one to blame but myself.
Feeling a tingle in my pocket that I know to be Dragoon objecting to my last train of thought, pretty much as he's been trying to do all night, I know somewhere he is right…its just…I'm not ready to except what my blue partner is saying just yet. Besides no matter how you phrase it…I not Dragoon…me and only me…I killed him.
Without. A. Second. Thought.
Only now do I regret it, now when there is nothing I can do to change this. And it scares me…oh God it scares me so much! That I could just…l-like that…it was so easy…too easy…and now I'm stuck having to face the consequences of my few moments of inhumanity…and insanity.
I'm not sure – is anyone listening up there? – not sure I can take this! I felt nothing, no emotion, that's wrong right? I should have felt something, anything but there was nothing but a cold steel strike, my action to match my emotions, my morality.
I only wanted to protect!
Just like he did!
Ha! Ironic. It's because of me that there was an urge to protect in the first place. If I hadn't of been there this would never have happened…Grandpa wouldn't be dead…Yeah…Gramps would not be dead.
There's no denying the truth now I've right out admitted it – he's dead…
Mine mine MINE!
I'm pulling out clumps of my sticky damp hair I'm that angry with myself. I am so upset I want to cry (not a hobby I do very often mind you) an ocean of tears hoping that maybe it will help release some of this ache, but my body…my soul wont let me. I'm not entirely sure what it will let me do, except run, but I'm sure I'll find out soon enough.
The sun is now halfway completely above the horizon, I've been sitting much longer than intended. Sigh.
"Got to get moving."
A certain teenager had no idea what would await him at home if he had any desire to return to the devastation within that house that was once a home again. But picture this:
Sixteen – they say it is meant to be sweet though what exactly is sweet about it I could never quite grasp – a young looking boy walks to his front door. At least he tries to knowing perfectly well what will await him inside, knowing even without having to speak to one of the officers holding him back what their questions would be; that the fingers of authority would eventually point his way and not deviate.
His home would be surrounded by yellow tape (he would think if all those movies were anything to go by), police officers standing on guard with their cars blocking what little traffic there was in this neck of the neighbourhood. Forensics and detectives in white coats and plastic protection stepping and examining all around, one or two early bird news personas hustling to get in on the action – sorry folks the show's over – he would say, every word now taken as truth instead of sarcasm; recorded down into his eventual prosecution.
It would have reminded him of a mini circus, sadly a bad one due to the total lack of audiences.
And really can you blame them? There were just people standing or milling around; where were the high flyers, the cart-wheelers and flippers, flashing colours (okay so we had some of those, we even had funny suits and masks like the stage or clown performers might wear), but no music, no laughter no cheer for a great performance.
His conviction –once it finally came out – however would bring crowds. Now that would be a worthy finale for his unworthy performance.
But…he didn't know.
He didn't know what lay behind him, that the two adults had been found or that it was even decided that he was their culprit, indeed their one and only suspect due to the massive evidence against him and no one else.
He didn't know that he had been 'seen'.
He would probably win an award for the utter surprise he would have shown at being told, by someone who was not even present at the time that his thoughts of failure were indeed the truth…and ultimately to be told that in cold un-merciless blood he directly murdered his own flesh, his grandfather.
Shock would register on his still boyish face. There would be no words for that, no talkback, not a thing to say. The teen would begin to doubt his own memories, the video clips of his actions, movements replaying in his mind as he struggled to fully comprehend what they had said, what they were implying…a cold blooded killer? That was him was it?
He would think that he had failed far greater than he himself expected or realised. He would doubt his sanity.
Except…he did not go back. He still trawled shadowed streets and back dumpsters not really running anymore except out of fuel, merely stumbling as his will to go on faded; obscuring his vision of whatever he had as his goal.
Naturally the world as per usual carried on around them outside of this tragedy stricken neighbourhood. The only telltale signs of unrest were the occasional blares of sirens, police radios and reporters giving their early takes or assumptions from in car radios and window stores.
Our youngster happened to hear the main report of that time just half after seven, and to say the least it stopped him cold.
Whatever he had been thinking, feeling, not understanding suddenly came into luminous focus. Yeah he was still running on empty but now he had found his reason to push forward; his previous niggling uncertainty diminishing with every word.
Would you like to know why?
To put it simply: Because there was a reason to.
A reason that even through all the blame and Dragoon's logical reasoning stood out like a blazing candle in the night.
'I'm sorry Grandpa. Sounds like they've already made up their minds…can't really blame them. It is my fault, my fault your dead…but…I won't give up! I'll get them for doing this to me. I will get him! I know what this boils down to and…..this is far from over! I can't stop now. This is why I left in the first place!'
Anyone overhearing, luckily no one did, may have been stunned at the level of determination this pathetic, formally depressed-looking individually suddenly bubbled up and out. Then again the same might be said in the next moment as another car addled past with another version of the 'incident' as he liked to call it.
'So it's definitive.' Tyson mumbled softly 'Nothing else matters now, Gramps was right, the police wont understand…they wouldn't listen to a killer like me. If they had not shown up none of this would have happened. Or. Maybe if I…'
'Ah!' grabbing his hair '…I would not have been forced to do that! If he thinks I am just going to lie down and take this crap, he is even more stupid than he looks!'
'I'll…get death probably anyway…so might as well go out with a bang' he slipped his hand out with beyblade in place.
"What do you think Dragoon?" a feisty blue glow pulsed in approval before disappearing back into its depths.
They both knew it was high time to tail it out of there, to move on. After all there was work to be done, people to see and a long long way to go. 'Just you and me Dragoon, we can grieve later. Redemption, retribution – I have to make up for this sin. I am…the guys…I don't even want to say their names' he shook his head 'I can't risk getting them involved, its too much and I don't think I could stand it if they…they turned from me…which they would. I'm sure they would, anyone would...they would surely find it sick…I do! So will…no don't think about that. Just forget it…I am alone now that's all that matters…' naturally his beloved dragon bitbeast severely objected to that statement 'Okay. We're all on our own…so we have got to make this at least a little worthwhile. Happy now?'
A little flash signified yes leaving Tyson more than aware he was effectively and successfully being told what to do when normally he just did as he wanted, which of course was part of the problem.
Picking himself up the bluenette and his blue dragon continued their trek through side streets as they quickly left away and beyond.
Kinomiya Dojo 17:00pm Wednesday nearly 22 hours since 'incident'
"What do we have – any initial estimates?"
"We still do not have a motive. However from beginning reports, the murders seem to have gone as so:
Both Mr. Kinomiya and Mr. Klimovicz were in the lounge at the time. No fabric from Klimovicz's clothes has been found on or near any seating so we can only assume both were standing. Our suspect comes in, weapon – which is the unidentified katana – already in hand. If you look in the room you will see there is no equipment or holdings to suggest a sword would be kept here.
Now either the suspect and Kinomiya fought thus creating the blade marks on the old man's kendo stick(1) or else the suspect enticed reaction from his grandfather by first off decapitating Mr. Klimovicz. That would suggest that both victims were either standing near where their bodies were found – and there is no sign that either body has been moved – or that Mr. Kinomiya was behind the other and moved forward while fighting. The broken glass, disturbed area across the rest of the room and that Klimovicz's body and blood is undisturbed except in the centre here (pointing to a spot between the two chalk outlines) certainly suggests the latter; a fight after the fact would have created more of a disturbance to his corpse. Their fighting could not have lasted for too long. Given the emergency call timings and the pathologist's assumption Mr. Kinomiya died shortly after the other male.
As you know he was stabbed by the same katana blade through his midsection, Doctor Ming infers the blade pierced him at a side angle; the blade was turned on its horizontal side upon entry and twisted. Though that may be from some movement when the blade was removed."
"We have a lot of guesswork, we need answers not assumptions!"
"Its still early days yet. The case has barely got off the ground but we know exactly whose responsible. We find the kid and its almost cut and dry."
"Except for the why. He cannot be convicted if he isn't here and we can't try him properly without a motive. He's young; younger than average, the court will take note of that though he clearly knows what he was doing."
"You think so? Why did he leave, and in such a rush too? From what's been gathered I don't think this kid is stupid. Why leave when there are such obvious signs of him being here: the hat, fingerprints, hair, the not being here now?"
"Probably panicked when Mr. Zanker called out front and ran off."
"Why not just wait and take him out too? He took out two grown adults at the same time remember…one more would not have been very difficult. This happened under the cover of darkness and we are not exactly in the middle of a busy thoroughfare…the bodies could have quite easily been disposed of at sea or in the forest out back even."
"Well... Its another question to answer."
"But besides that…looking at this chaos I am not convinced we will get a confession from this kid. So we need as much as we can get against him."
"Wait. Back up. What about the markings outside the room and the disturbance in backyard?"
"Ah, forensics have not really begun on them yet – my current interpretation is based solely on this room's state."
"I never said it was complete. Its likely I suppose the fight spilled out into other sections of the house, Klimovicz perhaps attempting to lend a hand. Or perhaps Mr. Kinomiya was not in the room at the time, found his friend on the floor than met the suspect in the corridor or vice versa. Or they may have come from somewhere else, hence the lack of substance in this room – honestly at the moment I have no idea. Afraid you will have to wait on more updates."
'Hmm…I don't like this. Not one bit.'
(1)Anyone know the proper name for that?
It wont be long till at least part of the mystery has to be cleared up for the readers but not the characters otherwise this plot wont get anywhere…any ideas on what's going on yet?
Ooh and in case anyone is wondering: if I don't already know it, have picked it up from work or normal reading then most of the time my quotes come from 'BrainyQuotes' website in which I scour their database looking for the one or the potential of one I want. It's awesome...
Thanks again for those of you who reviewed.
(little shameless advert here: If you like this 8 out of 10 you'll probably like my other Beyblade ficcy…I need someone to tell me how that one is in terms of writing and well stuff…its like my baby of fanfics! Kind of the reason this one was posted in the first place LOL…)