What I Wouldn't Give

Questions

Hospitals aren't really that dreary. Sure, there's the knowledge that everyone there is ill, or injured, but other than that the hospital isn't too bad of a place unless someone you know is in there. Or you're in there.

Shu is the one talking to the lady at the front desk, asking about Norman and Alexander. Valt, meanwhile, is just looking around, admiring the posters and the papers and everything that he could actually see. There are reminders to wash your hands and facts about certain diseases and even a paper of emergency numbers people should call in case they get hurt or sick or something like that. Valt then walks over and falls into a chair, staring at Shu and half-eavesdropping half-reading another poster.

At last, Shu turns back to Valt. "Alexander's still comatose, but Norman's awake and he can take visitors."

"Okay." Valt stands up and walks over. "Let's go!"

Valt isn't sure where he's going, so he just follows Shu down the hallway and into an elevator. They head up a few floors and down a few more hallways. Valt does hope that nothing happens to Shu on the way back: if Shu couldn't leave for some reason, Valt would probably end up staying in the hospital, too, since he would be totally lost.

At last they end up at a room with the door wide open. Sitting there, propped up on a bed reading a book, is Norman Tarver. There's another bed in the room, but the curtains around it are pulled shut. Shu and Valt stand in the doorway and stare at that particular unknown side of the room, hesitant to even go beyond their threshold.

"I know what you're thinking." Valt and Shu jump and look at Norman, who had just spoken. "There's nothing back there; Alexander is in a different room."

Both Valt and Shu sigh in relief and enter the room. Norman closes his book and sets it down, staring at both of them. There's a bandage on his forehead, concealing what must be stitches and a horrific looking wound. There's also an IV in his arm, for a reason that Valt can't quite comprehend.

"How is Alexander doing anyway?"

Norman sighs. "He's alive, and stable. Still comatose." A low growl escapes his throat. "The second I'm out of here I'm hunting Phi down and killing him."

"Let's not do that." Shu walks over and stands beside the bed. "Look, I know you just woke up, but we need answers."

"Answers to what?" Norman narrows his eyes at him. "Look, I doubt I'm going to be able to help you right now."

"You will; trust me." Shu takes a breath. "Now, I want to know about Alexander and Requiem. How did he make it? Why did he make it? What's its purpose, what's-"

"Stop." Norman shuts his eyes. "I know you think I know everything, but I don't. Alexander kept Requiem's creation a secret from the entirety of the Snake Pit, including me. There isn't all that much I know about it. I did notice some pretty weird things after Requiem's creation, but as for Alexander's methods and motives, I don't know anything."

Valt chimed in. "What you know should be more than enough. Just tell us."

After a moment, Norman lets out another heavy sigh. "Ugh, my head hurts..."

"Lie down."

"No, I can't fall asleep. That'll make it worse." Norman rests a hand over the bandage on his forehead and continues. "I don't know his motives. I don't know Requiem's exact purpose, other than it was supposed to be the strongest Beyblade in existence, and it was an experiment Alexander conducted of his own accord. It needed a proper Blader, a proper vessel, willing to give up everything for power. I don't know what made Alexander want to make something like that, or why he insisted it be given to one particular person with the right amount of strength and the determination to become the most powerful."