The Weird, Wild, and Wonderous World of Beyblade

Boa- Headlong

All rights reserved to Hiro Morita

Bey combos for the generic Beys

Boa-Rising Ragnaruk Knuckle Unite

Gaki-Psychic Phantoms 4 Cross Flugel

Alexander- Baldur Bump Bite

Kinda wanted to experiment with character personality in this one, so here we go.

Boa always felt like the world had it out for him.

"Let...me go!" He hacked out as he was smashed against the gray metal wall by a burly arm. He felt his head ring from the impact. The thug doing so just snickered as he struggled to beat him off.

"Look at 'em! Little runt can't even take this!" The guy howled as lankier friends snickered along with him before he finally laid off.

Boa clamped his hands on his knees as he huffed in pain. The guy and his cronies walked off laughing and making mock groans of pain before disappearing into the darkness of the boxy dark corridors.

Yeah, like anyone could take being on the business end of the shock collars they used for those that failed their daily launching routine or being tossed out into one of those deathtrap arenas set up here. Whether it was the cold of the Arctic stage or the one overrun with spikes, each one sent a shiver through Boa's spine.

Ever since entering the Snake Pit proper, he'd become some kind of a running joke among the guys there. Whether it was him writhing on the floor as his first failed launch routine got him jolted by a collar, the shrill screams that followed it, or any of his other painful screw-ups, everyone always had something to say about him. And he could tell that 'something' was getting old and not just for him.

While he batted off the other Bladers' chidings, deep down, he couldn't help but feel like the runt that guy just called him. It was pretty much plain as day, given how he seemed to fail as easy as breathing, but he didn't want that to be true. It couldn't be true. A life spent on the streets and in here had taught him that people could only rely on themselves. What could he do if he couldn't believe in his strength?

Obviously, this place was a nightmare waiting to tear you apart. But it was a necessary nightmare for Boa. For the dusty blonde, it was either this or being back on the streets.

The streets are, surprising to no one, a horrible place for a child. Back there, surrounded by orange dust and cobwebbed alleyways, people like him had to fight for food, clothing, or anything they could to get by. Your only tools were whatever you could find, or if you were lucky to not go down that route, a Bey. With how little his size gave him confidence in the first path, Boa considered himself lucky to be able to take up the second.

Beys made things simpler for him. No weapons, pipes to beat people over the head, or swiping things from under people's noses. Just fighting to survive in a good, honest Beybattle.

Blading for food was a ways away from the thrill better-off kids got from the sport, but it did its job. As long as he kept his Blading skills up, he could get a good meal now and again. But that was only if a good one showed up, and even then, he couldn't shake the miserable look in another kid's eye every time they lost. Forking some of his winnings over wasn't the end of his world, but it did its job of putting a damper on it.

And then, he met Ashram, The founder of this nightmare he found himself in.

Boa will remember that day. Meeting the man, who was practically a shadow in the evening sunlight. The green-eyed boy could quite put his finger on it, but even back then, something about the guy raised the hair on his skin. Something that said all the promises he was making of a better life weren't all they were drummed up to be. And now he knew why.