Beyblade Fan Fiction ❯ What if Tyson hadn't beaten Tala? ❯ Chapter 2

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Chapter 2

Tyson closed his open jaw with his right hand. “B-but. I AM Tyson! I didn't die! Here I am!”

“He died, get it? He got killed in the World Championships awhile ago. Against Tala Ivanov. Don't you know? Or have you been asleep all this time?”

Tyson couldn't believe it. Lose against Tala? But that had been three years ago! And he won!!

“If it's a joke, it isn't funny.”

“Ok. Don't believe me. Just ask anybody.” She said.

“Are you dense?!” She started again after a while. “You should know better than be in Biovolt's minions' way when they're inspecting the city. They'll take your bit-beasts…if you have one.”

`Biovolt's minions? Take my bit-beast? What's she talkin' about?'

The girl's features softened. Tyson finally noticed, despite the darkness, she has a face similar to Rei's, but her eyes were brownish-greenish and her hair was brown with blonde streaks. [(this description might change because she always keeps changing her looks)]

“I'm Marisol.” She said and looked out again. She looked both ways and nodded to herself. “Let's go.” She gestured for him to follow her. She walked lightly, like a tiger preying. She crouched down low, because, as Tyson noticed, there were many boys or even men patrolling the area, looking in every hole, space, in every place that could shelter a human being. They all wore uniforms, suits similar to Spencer's, and carried around weapons. Tyson squinted his eyes to see well.

`Or are those launchers?'

Tyson kept looking around. Everywhere he went lay pieces of buildings. The entire road was dirt, and few plants grew in this hostile environment.

Only the toughest weeds survived.

While the blue-haired teen was lost in his new-found world of thought, Marisol quickly moved a scrap of rusty metal and jumped in.

Tyson just kept walking by.

Seeing as he wasn't there with her, Marisol had to climb up the ladder and grab his leg to drag him down.

“Ouch.” He groaned after getting hit in the head due to the five-foot fall. Marisol, meanwhile, was on the floor, next to Tyson, on all fours, looking for something. She moved dirt to uncover a series of buttons, from zero to nine. She pressed the buttons in a certain order, and not long later, a small metal machine emerged from the dirt and scanned Marisol's iris. The machine emitted a small sound that, Tyson guessed, approved her.

He expected a door to open in front of then, but no, the floor under then gave out and they had to slide down a tunnel, until they finally fell on their butts, once again.

“Thank goodness that's over.” Tyson said in relief, rubbing his sore butt.

“No.” Marisol got up and walked up to a wall and put her hand on a pad that analyzed her fingerprints, and another small machine, this one with pliers that looked like two metallic fingers, that pulled one of Marisol's hairs.

“Kon Fematt Marisol. Approved.” A perfunctory voice articulated. This time, Tyson was prepared for the floor giving in again. He was so concentrated on the floor; he didn't notice Marisol's last name was Kon.

A door opened, and Marisol walked in, with Tyson at her heels.

What Tyson saw inside that room, he never imagined he would see. (Or maybe he did…)