
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5635825.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Beyblade
  Character:
      Kinomiya_Takao_|_Tyson_Granger, Mizuhara_Max_|_Max_Tate, Hiwatari_Kai,
      Kon_Rei_|_Ray_Kon, Yuri_Ivanov_|_Tala_Valkov, Boris_Kuznetsov_|_Bryan
      Kuznetsov, Sergei_Petrov_|_Spencer_Petrov, Tachibana_Hiromi_|_Hilary
      Tachibana
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe, Murder, Violence
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-01-04 Chapters: 1/? Words: 1246
****** When It Gets Dark... ******
by Chaos_In_Kaon
Summary
     The tournament has started, and the Bladers have congregated in
     America to begin the first round, but it is quickly shut down when
     the body of a Blader is discovered, murdered in the park, While the
     teens are still reeling from the first death, more bodies turn up,
     all Bladers as well, and it's clear they are being targeted. Forced
     to stay in the hotel, fear and hormones hit all time highs, and all
     Hell breaks loose.
Notes
     Disclaimer - I own nothing
     Warnings - OOC and AU
     Graphic violence and death, future rape and sexual content
     Otherwise, enjoy :)
Chapter 1: Monster
The night seemed darker than usual, the moon hiding behind the clouds. He had
planted himself in a good spot in the park, situated between a park bench and a
tree. He sat in such a way that anyone approaching wouldn’t see Him before He
saw them. He was dressed in vagrants’ clothing, dirty sweats and an old
overcoat. No one would look at Him any longer than they would spare to any
other homeless person. The large hunting knife, His favorite, was in the deep
pocket of the coat.
He breathed deep and even, taking in the cool night air, His exhales coming in
little clouds of vapor. His heart was beating so hard, He could swear it could
be heard from the city, but His ears were finely tuned to listen for
approaching footsteps in the dark.
He waited for an eternity, it seemed, before the first sounds of human life
reached him. He shifted ever so quietly to get a better look. It was a man, on
the heavier side, it looked. He was in a hurry, muttering to himself as he
went. “…gonna kill me! I’m so fucking late!” He heard him say. The boy was very
close now, and He could see now who it was. He knew this boy. Even better.
He stepped out from the shadows, forcing the boy to stop suddenly, almost
falling over. “Oh!” the boy exclaimed, panting. The jog had taken the good out
of him, it seemed. Too bad. Not much left in him. He simply watched the boy,
loving the early stages where he didn’t know yet that he was going to die. Even
better, in this case, because this boy was at ease with Him. He was just
another contender, after all.
The boy stared for a moment, before trying to step around Him. “..Right. Well,
I have to get back. Barthez is going to kill me!” The boys’ path was blocked,
as He stepped in front of him again. “Uhh..” the boy started, dumbfounded. He
smiled now, watching as the boys’ face was registering the first signs of
trouble. Not scared, yet, per se, but there was something there.
“You’re not going back to the hotel.” He said, his smile easy and benign. “What
do you mean?” The boy asked, squinting at Him. “It’s past midnight. I have to
go, man! So should you! We’ll be in a pile of crap if we’re caught out this
late!” The boy tried to push past Him now, and he did, as he was much bigger
than He. The boy didn’t get far, though.
The knife first slid in to the boy’s lower back, cold and quick. The first stab
was so fast, all the boy could do was gasp, knowing what happened, but there
was no pain, not yet. Just the cold blade embedded somewhere deep in his lower
belly now. His smile grew now, as he held the 8 inch blade in place for a
moment, and it wasn’t the pleasant, natural smile that the boy had seen
earlier. It was as icy as the steel within him. He couldn’t see it, though.
The boy started to yell, but it was very quickly turned to a sticky gurgle, as
He threw all his strength behind it, and dragged the serrated blade upward,
thrusting his hand a bit, tearing through skin, muscle, and organ. Blood
spurted from the boys’ mouth, dark and thick. The boy fell to his knees, and He
lowered his arm with him as he dropped, still dragging the knife upward,
hitting home when it hit the left shoulder blade. He pulled the blade free, and
the boy collapsed onto his front, making sounds that only the dying can
produce, those rasps, gurgles, and few intelligible and weak cries for help
that no one would answer.
He knelt down next to the boy, and grabbed a fist full of his shirt that was
still blood free, and used it to wipe the blade clean. He wore gloves, of
course. He was no amateur. He watched with rapt attention as the boy died,
faster than He would have thought. His victims were usually good for a few
minutes, at least. This one just gave up too easily, he guessed.
When the shuddering breaths halted, and the boy was lying there, terrified eyes
staring sightlessly into the park, He replaced his knife into the deep pocket
of the overcoat, and retreated back into the shadows of the park, leaving the
body behind to be discovered by morning, likely by an early morning jogger.
When He returned to the hotel, He stowed His clothes in the backpack he was
carrying, and entered the lobby, making His way to His room. Once inside, He
showered, and got ready for bed. He was very relaxed, now, and couldn’t wait to
have a good sleep, and be fresh for the tournament. If they had it, He mused to
Himself, as He started to drift off. After all, a dead teenage Blader found the
day the tournament started was big news. He fell asleep wondering whether He
should select His next target from the pool of Bladers here, or if He should
just slaughter whoever was unlucky enough to be at the wrong place, at the
wrong time.
---
 
The TV was on, though muted, and the days’ top stories were flashing by on the
marquee scrolling across the bottom of the screen, while a pretty news anchor
was soundlessly reading from the teleprompter. Only Hiro was paying attention
to the text, everyone was else was too invested in the discussion of the
upcoming battles for the tournament. “Wait!” He said sharply, stopping the team
in mid-conversation, and turning up the volume.
The screen was showing a picture now of Aaron, a member of the Barthez
Battalion. The kids watched and listened, stunned, as the anchor lady reported
his murder in the park, estimated to have happened shortly after one o’clock in
the morning, asking for anyone with any information to come forward.
In stunned silence, they then watched as Mr. Dickenson, looking very grief
stricken, expressed his sympathy for family and friends, and told the country
that the matches that day were of course cancelled, and all Bladers should
remain in the hotel until further notice.
“Hiro..” Tyson started, eyes wide with fright. “I know.” Hiro replied to his
unspoken statement. He knew they were scared. “Just stay in here, guys. Don’t
open the door for anyone. I’m going to go see if I can help with anything.” And
he left Tyson, Daichi, Kenny and Hilary behind to discuss the very violent
death of Aaron.
In another hotel room, on a different floor, the Blitzkrieg Boys were watching
the same program, though without the fear the other teams were feeling. Spencer
even turned to Bryan, and asked, “Where were YOU last night?” but he was only
half joking. He knew all too well about Bryan’s past in Russia. Bryan quirked
an eyebrow at his team mate. “Sadly, not in that park. Good work, though,
taking out that useless hunk of shit.” Spencer and Bryan laughed, both of them
brutal by nature. Tala didn’t show any interest in it whatsoever. Kai watched
with mild interest. His team mates had no way to know that behind his poker
face, he was hiding his surprise. He knew who did this. He saw it all too often
back home…
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