i was looking through crossover fics and i saw tht there were no Beyblade crossovers with Get Backers, so I thought I'd start one of my own. btw, just as a little insight, this is before the actual story line for both of them, so as far as familiar faces go, you'll only see a few.

i hope you guys enjoy!

"A New Shade Of Crimson:
Chapter One;
Red Snow"

- The Middle of Nowhere

The shadows were nightmares. You never knew what came out of them, nor did you know if it'd be harmless or fatal. In this blizzard, the fact was more true than it had come to start as, for not only did you have to watch the darkness behind you, but you also had to focus on the blinding snowfall ahead of you.

These cases, the darkness given on cold winter nights could also be plenty useful, depending on you situation.

The location was uncharted on any map or GPS, and from what it appeared, both inside and out, was that it was a giant metal prison. People go in but don't come out; not alive, anyways. There were guards at each entrance; each one making sure not one person tried to escape the metal death chamber that was surrounded by miles of endless snow and ice.

This night it was indeed the middle of a blizzard, and it was extremely dark, especially due to the fact they had to keep the power on inside to keep the prisoners in line; quite regrettably, this left them without their outside lights and security cameras, so they were working double-time in order to keep things as they were.

At the Eastern entrance though, where two guards stood idly a good distance away from each other in order to not see or hear their partner through the harsh night. Bad conditions for keeping the place secure...

...perfect for a jail break!

To the latter, it only sounded like a light thud, but he knew better, for a storm like this did so much as to effect their hearing. He didn't realize that he had lost the battle as a small hand with a knife slit his throat from behind. The body would have fell with a surprising thud, however the roaring winds had muffled the sound, so no one was aware of what had occurred.

When the body hit the cold ground, a small silhouetted figure dropped down from what he was standing on in order to reach the man's neck. He strapped the bloody weapon to his waist, making sure it was secure before running straight forward from the gate; not looking back, not slowing down, and not ever going to stop for the place ever again.

- Shinjuku

It was a wonderful winter evening; the snow fell peacefully on the ground in the middle of the winter holidays. It had already passed Christmas, however New Years was but a few days away. Walking through them were not anyone but everyone's favorite transporter: Kuroudo Akabane. Otherwise known as Dr. Jackal-a notorious transporter who's hobby thrills for kills (literally).

The man was casually making pace for his apartment with a few grocery bags in his left hand whilst the other remained in the pocket of his winter coat (whose only difference to the original is fabric type and weight). His hat seemed to be the same fedora he always wore, but if one got a closer look, they could see that said hat was made from a different type of fabric as to help keep the doctor warm during the time of year. To finish it off, there was a white scarf around his neck, which fit comfortably and aided in fighting back against the frosty wind blowing against his face.

He wouldn't have to go shopping-or anywhere, for that matter-had it not been for the time of year. Over the past few years, he's been getting along with a regular partner: Gouzou Maguruma. The man now called Mr. Unstoppable had introduced Akabane to his adoring wife-Sachiko-but only a year after meeting him. The woman asked him about friends and family, whilst he replied that he had no family and that her husband was the first to try and befriend him. The end result was her insisting that he celebrate the holidays with them, and what kind of man would he be if he denied such a kind woman's request?

That had all started almost four years beforehand. The routine was that Christmas was spent at one's home while the latter hosted News Years, and by the time he received the invitation for the holidays, Christmas had very well past, and it was only the night before New Year's Eve then, so this year he was hosting the Maguruma's just as he had done so but only two years ago.

Yes, these few times of the year were enjoyable on his part, and truth be told, he was rather glad he had them; no transporter wanted to be working during the winter holidays, whether it be just for relaxing at home up to partying with friends and family. A few sucked it up and dealt with it-such as Akabane had done in the past-but most of them wanted to just let things be during the time. This, of nowadays, included himself.

Making the next turn so as to get to his apartment building at the end of the street, the black-clothed male stopped, perking an ear at the sound of a blood curdling scream which resembled a female's in classic horror films. Funny-normally he'd only hear that sound around these parts when his opponents attempted a very narrow and rather vain chance of escape. The sound of there demise was pitiful and-of course-disappointing.

When he heard a more choked cry, curiosity peeked at him and he made his way down the alley, wondering what exactly he'd be running into. There were a few crashes as he walked down, as well as more screaming and some cussing here and there. He turned the corner just in time to hear someone speak. "That's it, no more playing nice, kid!" Once he made the turn, he was shocked to say the least.

On the snow-covered pavement, exactly five men laid dead. Some had slits to their throats, others were stabbed numerous times in vital areas of their bodies. Their were but only three men left standing, surrounding the opponent holding the knife that killed the others. What he couldn't believe he seeing was that it was a child-no older than six or seven-holding the blade, and he was drenched head to foot by the snow, and covered head to foot in mud and blood.

The child was obviously defending himself. Due to his experience, he could see from the distance he was away that the boy was wounded, fatigued and starved, and it wouldn't take much more of them men as to finish off his existence. What Akabane had found interesting was that he was capable of killing people at such a young age, which inclined that wherever it was he came from, it was hell compared to the city.

From all this, standing where he was, the ebony had two choices. He could either walk away and allow the child to die the death that's been creeping at him for what appeared to be weeks on end, or he could lunge forward, kill the boy's opponents, and get him the attention he needed, urgently. The fact was that he was never fond of street thugs, so he'd rather not get his hands dirty when the original intent was to head home, but he definitely despised it when men attacked children who were placed in these situations, leaving him at a standstill.

"Now die!" The same man yelled as they charged at the immobile child with blades out-a killing intent seen rather clearly in their eyes.

Making up his mind quickly, the Jackal dropped his bags, and effortlessly cut down the group of thugs in what seemed but only a gust of blinding wind. The child's head perked up, letting out a gasp as he realized his opponents before him were all now dead. His head moved upward when he noticed that there was someone new in his presence, whom he could easily tell was the one who aided him.

Neither one of them made any sound for a few moments-they only stared at one another in the cold weather. Akabane was faced with another decision, though-what to do with the child. He could always bring him to a hospital, but the fact was that most children weren't out on the streets without reasons, whether it be running away or abandonment. Seeing as how the boy was willing to kill so that he could be left in peace, he knew that it was out of the question. The fact remained, however, that even if he saved the child now, there's no guarantee he'd last the night without some form of assisstance, and the Jackal didn't feel like explaining the ten dead bodies to the police.

Holding back a sigh, he took a step towards the child, who staggered back slightly in response. He knelt on one knee so as to meet the child's eyes, realizing that he was so battered around, he could barely see through the hair that covered his face. Still, it didn't take much effort to see how bad the damage of the injuries were, so he knew the boy beneath him couldn't get far.

He extended a hand, but it was swatted away by the knife. Akabane wasn't surprised by the response, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed. He didn't want things to be difficult, especially since the boy had faced enough for one day. His response was a small gesture; he slowly took off the white scarf and-with both hands-offered it to him, awaiting to see what he'd do.

The boy was hesitant. He kept the knife out, however slowly leaned forward, extending a hand covered in dirt and dry blood. Touching the object, he could still feel the others body warmth radiating off the object. He-knife still in hand-moved his hair out of his face, revealing more dried blood and smudge that was on his face, but what the man noticed more over was the child's strange, yet brightly colored crimson eyes.

The boy was giving him a questioning gaze, wondering if the latter was truly being serious about the situation and obviously not trusting him; as most do when they first meet him. Still the man nodded, looking down at the child and staring directly in the eyes with his own-should the boy have reason to doubt him.

However, it was unnecessary, for in one swift motion, the boy took the scarf and wrapped it around him as best he could manage-holding it close as to obtain some warmth. It was truly pitiful to see someone so young suffer, Akabane admitted to himself several times over, however this was the first time he had done anything about it. "Well, I'm not gonna leave him now." He mused.

The ebony extended a gloved hand, offering it to the child. Should he take it, it'd mean bringing him back to the apartment, getting him cleaned up, treating his injuries and feeding him-should he decline, he'd leave. That was his decision. People see others suffer everyday and walk past it, as did he, and he normally wasn't one to do something about it. He figured it best to at least be polite to the child and give him a chance to escape the hell he was forced to endure.

The child stared at the hand, setting the blade beside him as he contemplated whether to take it or not. He looked up at the male staring down on him, who gave him his usual smile. Looking back at the hand, the boy continued to wonder about the idea of taking it, the very same hand raising and falling at the thought of accepting it, and what could come of the decision.

The transporter waited patiently, knowing very well what thoughts could be racing through the child's head at the idea of accepting his help and declining it. Children like he-the Jackal knew-didn't trust others easily, and were less likely to accept any help at all. A situation he thought he'd be met with, quickly. However, feeling a smaller palm in his told him otherwise.

He looked down and saw it; just how closely the boy was from giving out completely. At this point, the child was smart enough to know his chances, and knew fairly well that he was better off if he accepted the hand of a stranger rather than stick it out in the cold, both barely able to move and just a breath away from death.

A smart move.

Akabane gently raised the child into his arms, careful as to not harm him further, and pulling him into the curve of his neck so as to retrieve warmth. The child accepted, but the man couldn't hold back a frown as he stood up. The boy's body was freezing, but he could feel the warmth radiating from the latter's cheeks. Such as to be expected, he supposed, but that called for even more attention that he wasn't sure the boy would allow.

As he began walking, he saw that his just bought groceries had both landed in bloodstained puddle of snow, but that rats had begun to nip at it, and judging by what he saw, it seemed as though he'd spent more time with the child than he first theorized. Still, he pressed on, figuring he'd but more after he got the boy settled for the evening.

Turning the corner to head down the path he was originally on, he couldn't help but smile to himself. He couldn't help but wonder just what would come of this show.