Into The Moon

[Ominous Flare]

Disclaimer: I do not own most of the characters of this story (some of them are of my own original creation). If you have saw them in the anime before, they, and the Digital Monsters (Digimon) creatures belong to Fuji TV and Bandai.
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The inspiration of this tale came to me during the moment I was watching a drama series called Into The West a few years ago. The series tells of America revolution, the slavery of Red Indians, and, possibly, their liberation. Though I had only watch part of the fourth episode, it seemed like one of the many good stories I will be turning into one that involves Digimon.

So, sit back, grab a drink from your fridge, and enjoy the following story involving yet, another ravage of the Digital World... with a twist. Do note that this fan fic was discontinued those few years ago and I'm simply copying and pasting from that old, partial fan fic of mine. Regardless, I hope you would enjoy it.

Into The Moon
Prologue: A New World
The year is 2007. In alphabetical form, that would be two thousand and seven years. The term, “Chosen Children” is currently used worldwide throughout the globe. Once, they had assisted in carrying out the peace of the Real World in the Digimon World Tour. Now, we turn our attention towards the Digital World, once again, and their... “inhabitants,” as this, is their story.

Our story begins with not a tragic aspect but a peaceful one. The world parallel to our Real World was liberated from the evil forces of damnation that once threatened it, the return of our past enemy, along with the seemingly countless numbers of Kuramon who formed a fiend whose size is of gigantic proportion was all stopped in their path from threatening our world, and now, they, the Chosen Children of the past, lives alongside normal people with normal lives similar to theirs, eating stale bread in the mornings and getting through each day with hoping of the threats keeping at their bays. It is almost similar to a retirement for these past heroes now.

Much has changed over the period of five years, including the method of Evolutions, the armor modifications, and the way of life for Digimon on planet Earth. Digital Monsters alike had learned to take control of their physique, resisting the urge to revert into their former forms after their Evolution. This advancement in their structures was not a first in the Digital World. In the Real World, maybe, but one of the partners of the Chosen Children had maintained his, or shall I say, her form as an Adult Stage without having to revert back to a Salamon yet once more. She was not the first to perform such an act, though. Thousands of other Digimon had done it before; it was just not a common sight like today.

In 2003, December 23rd, after a long period of debate and reasoning, Prime Minister of Japan, Junichiro Koizumi, managed to set out a registration act exclusively applied to the rights of Digimon that will serve the good will of both man and Digital Monsters alike.

Schooling is no longer an activity for solely the human species. Over all continents; Asia, Australia, South America, Chosen Children had brought their partner Digimon for applications of private schools, public schools and even home-schooling was involved. Though the uniforms of all schools over the globe had been minorly adjusted to fit the physique of Digimon, a significant change seen in Agumon uniforms is the absence of pants, among other stubby-legged Digimon.

Identity cards are also required by Digimon to be carried around, too, after they have chosen a name of their choice. While Digimon all over the world followed the craze of picking a fancy name of their own, their genus names are used as their surnames. Some had even used the surname of their human partner as their own last name, having assuming such course of action would seem much more personal than having a surname that ends with a “-mon.”

Other than the offer of the education system, the workforce also allowed the comings of Digimon into various job titles. Some Digimon, after earning a decent PhD degree, even had their imaginatively created first names followed by the initial, “Dr.” Other Digimon who either were too lazy or too much of a sloth to even earn a certificate, dwells in the cheaply pays of trash-taking (some even took up trash-consuming), road-sweeping, and some fortunate souls however, got into modeling. This allows their human partners to work the bread for themselves while their Digimon are still able to bring home the bacon without the assist of their fleshy companions.

As with all humans, all Digimon has got 'problems,' too. Some Digimon were introduced to drugs and alcohol by their partners, others simply got into disagreements between themselves and their... “Tamers.” This group of Digimon either ran away from their homes and head back into the Digital World, joined gangs of hooligans and gangsters alike, or even consuming alcoholic till they could not see the daylight no more, as if they had arrived in the Dark Area.

Since most Digimon were considered to be much mature during their Adult Stage, a fact that is presumable, the governments, of a moderate amount of states, had authorized the act of having Digimon certain rights only after they have processed into their Adult Stages, similar to the rights of a human being with the exception of the mark of certain ages. Meaning that though a human being would require to be at least sixteen years old to be allowed to consume alcoholic beverages, eighteen years old in order to get a driver's license, in some states anyway, a Digimon could get both, among other rights, the moment they reach their Adult Stages.

Aside from rights and the such, technology improved, and still does.

The original semi-squarish Digivice became overused. Hence, researchers, who soon labeled themselves as “Digimonologists,” planned to create a new type of Evolution never attempted before; a device without the requirements of an innocence of a child. Many other Digimonologists frowned upon this idea, claiming that it was unnecessary and possible in posing a threat, as anyone could then Evolve a Digimon with this new technology they called a, “Digi-Chip,” a nano-sized microchip that is inserted into one's brain and the brain of the Digimon they wanted to Evolve, forming a sort of connection between the two minds, enabling Evolution simply by having the Tamer triggering the thought of Evolving their digital partners. This method of Evolution was immediately taken in by military forces and even terrorists who were willing to buy the mechanisms at a price the money-grubbers simply could not reject.

Soon, war broke out, and Digimon were used as a tool for fighting instead of as a means for defense against the very people that owns the new technology; the terrorists.

And the changes in the way of life did not stop there.

The same group of Digimonologists who had invented the microchips currently used in warfare and terrorism across the globe furthered their studies upon the DNA structures of earthly animals. This was due to an encounter marked in the past. A few years ago, back in '05, a group of Digimonologists came across a Wendimon in the savanna with an elephant and supposedly, their offspring; a partially grey, quadruped creature with spikes on its shoulders and a stubby trunk hung from its face. This astonishing discovery led to what soon to be one of the controversial subject; DNA manipulation.

The small amount of researchers began to work day and night, never stopping to construct a stable DNA string composed of one string of an animal and another from a Digimon. The code was never really cracked. Thousands of Digimon that were put through experimentations died, they never reincarnated due to their data structure being changed along with their DNA. It was not till last year, in 2006 May 21st, when one of the Digimonologists, while putting yet another Digimon, a Tentomon, to test, was the succession of the solution discovered. After injecting a serum composing of a hawk's DNA string, the Tentomon, after a day of disappointment and discontent, gradually grew wings on his back and talons. The Digimon was foolish enough to fly, with his new set of wings, back to the center in order to report his physique. The Digimonologists then kept him in captivity for the purpose of studies, neglecting his needs and refusing his freedom.

The new discovery turned into a phenomenon. Children worldwide desired to turn their Digimon into freakishly looking mutants, especially during Halloween. The terrorists and military forces fighting in a mass of bloodshed were contempt in causing more innocent lives to be lost by purchasing the solutions sold in bottles in every convenient stores like some sort of... toy. Digimon everywhere were then and now starting to look like real monsters, intimidating the old but never the young who find them to be even more exciting with even more features added upon them.

The Digimon species was no longer a companion, but a product. And the worse had yet to arrive...

[Ominous Flare]

A faint glow of red-orange sunlight burst through the darkness of an irregular structure formed across the mountaintops, before making its way through a crystalline structure to which its silhouette sits atop a meadowy green hill. Soft rumbles of moos and moans could be heard nearby the polished building. It was a herd of Bullmon grazing on the moist strands of grass droplets of glossy dew, which the cool air in the region had produced, slided upon onto the barely visible soil below. A wooden barrier consisting of lime-yellow fences kept the Digimon in their places, ensuring that their curious minds would not lead them away from the area, possibly into harm's way even. Obviously, that place was no Odaiba.

Within the nearly deserted household, the lighted palm of an adolescent laid motionlessly on the side of the silky, soft sheet, above the swarthy skin facing below.

The texture of the layer spreaded throughout the furniture was of an exquisite material, cottony and delicate, capable of putting even the most invigorated insomniac into sleep.

A gloom of shade still loomed over the furnishments, the few rays of light barely touched the four corners of the cubical. A rug of a prickly fabric was spreaded out across sets of burnished tiles filled with a pink background a diagonal shade of brown streaked across, all under the steel frame the cushioned mattress Taichi Yagami laid his unmoved body across.

More amount of moos and groans spreaded throughout the land, yet those eyes were still covered with a blanket of flesh, no motion of any sort. The faint scent of moisture made its attempts in stinging the glands of the young adult whose physique had minorly changed over the years. Once, he was a tanned, young child with a head full of uncombed, brown hair. Three years after, his height increased, his hair remained brushed upwards. Another five years passed by, little of his features had changed.

In the dusky room, peace surrounded the four slippery walls surrounding the large capacity Taichi slept in for the past eight hours. On the exterior of the estate, the faint rays of sunlight glistered across the vitreous texture of the enclosure that made up the structure of the palace.

The peace covering the interior of, one of the many rooms among the manor, was abruptly disturbed by the pounding of footsteps seemingly traveling towards the occupied room. They were not footsteps of a large amount of weight. The gradual rhythm proceeded through a hallway in the form describable as a pair of black, leather shoes, similar to those worn by butlers and such. There were no presence of moving air, hence, the edges around the admirable black suit put on the torso of the servant and decorated with a black piece of bow tie had yet to make any movements even as the young, charming fellow moves swiftly across the sepia flooring, which descended above the ground floor below, where tiles of teal-blue could be seen over the wooden handlebar aligning the transparent glass fence that prevents people from falling off the second storey.

Though Jacob, the hired butler of the extravagant building, made his attempts towards not waking up the young master, especially at that early time of day, the mind of young Taichi-san could not help being disturbed by the constant footsteps of the only other person in the mansion. The curtains lidding his eyes might had been tightly shut, but his mind became an a conscious one, conscious about the amount of light, conscious about the current affairs, and definitely conscious of his butler's arrival, a small distance away from the platform he spent the previous night on in a state of hypnotism.

He was conscious of all that, he simply did not desire to make aware of them.

Though his pupils made no movement beneath those fleshy masks, Jacob was aware about the status of the young son belonging to his true master. He was uneducated, not moronic. He knows his young master much better than his father does, unfortunately. Hence, he would had expected Taichi's awakening at every moment he steps in, even if it was the beginning of the day.

“Get away, Jacob,” the frozen body suddenly spoke, as predicted, “I want to catch some more sleep.”

The flaps of skin curtaining the butler's eyes tightened, having witnessing, yet once again in another dreadful morning, Master Yagami's scornful antics. His head lowered towards the tilings, as an inquiry gradually emits out from his lips.

“Would you desire for a delicious meal of break...”

“I desire for you to get the hell outta my life!” The question was abruptly interrupted by the harsh sentence of words. It was a common sight for Jacob, this sort of reaction had been appearing itself throughout the past two years.

Everytime, the butler would respond towards him in similar, though not exact phrases. “Yes, master” was his respond that time. The butler whose age was still of a young one at that time of his life, left the snobbish teenager to enjoy his view of the vitric ceiling; his eyes were finally exposed, after Jacob had diverted his visions away from the young fellow who is considered to be young and innocent to the forgiving butler, whose amount of leniency could match those of Mother Teresa.

“I shall be... taking my leave, then,” the grim, yet loyal servant remarked before his departure. His pupils were similar to those of young Master Yagami moments ago; hidden away by the tightly retracted eyelids, though not too compressed to the limit which tears would be squeezed out from the glands.

Jacob proceeded towards the other side of the metallic frame that which bordered the opening to the room, the room which does not include doors, similarly to the design of other rooms. He continued to make his way to his other duties, which involved having him vacuuming the glossy tiles which dust might be glued upon, watering the numbers of plants to which their extending roots were inserted into pots of soil, carefully dusting the invaluable antiques and statues alike that which their structures being too fragile to be vacuumed, and also the pouring of vegetables and fruits into the silvery, canal-shaped container that which the Bullmon feed upon, among the many other lists of tasks he had performed for every passing day.

Remaining in his room, Taichi reminiscent about the past, tragic events that had occurred in the past twenty-four months, the incidents that which had changed his personality into one which is cold, acrimonious, and even more conflictive than before, even towards his allies.

The origin of the young lad's sorrows take one's soul inverted through time, into a period long before the cruel side of humanity was displayed. It was a time of peace and happiness, an era when humans enjoyed the company of the digital beings. They treated the alternate species living alongside them as they would have treated another person. All was well and everyone was contented with the status of their surroundings then and, maybe, it might had been a better option to leave it that well...

In the duration before his father's dismissal, Susumu Yagami's occupation was of a simple one; he was but a diligent bartender, one who worked himself off in order to pay for his family's fundings. The pay was decent, though not satisfying. He spent most of his everlasting nights behind a marbled counter, chatting with his drowsy customers and, unlike most other tenders, joining them in a state of drowsiness and confusion. It was only then would he had arrive at the doorsteps of his dusty old apartment that would be sold away in later years, drunk and covered with a blanket that which would be the stench of liquor.

Taichi had not mind this sort of characteristic depicted by his father, neither did Yuuko Yagami, mother of two including Taichi and the younger offspring, Hikari. They were glad, however, when Susumu made the announcement featuring the abandon of his occupation for one which he described as “a job with a higher formality,” one which he claimed to “rake in a high pay.”

The trio could not be any happier when the received that piece of news. At that time anyway, they were relieved that their husband and father would not have to dwell in such a shady workplace, as Susumu reassured them of the location being “a top secret facility located in an unknown region.” Though the part of the assurance featuring the words, “unknown region,” slightly intimidated Yuuko, among the other members of the family, she wished her mate in the best of luck in his upcoming career, after inquiring his duties within the structure.

“Oh, they said they would get me to carry items around the facility, fixing the pipes.” the fatherly husband responded upon his interrogation. He took in one more sip of the steaming liquid, that which contained caffeine in its ingredients, before laying the caramel mug, that which its handle he had in his slightly loosen grip, above an ecru coffee table before him. “You know, grunt stuff.”

The job description seemed decent, though slight details remained unbelievable and... suspicious, even. For example, the pay was a high price of five thousand dollars per month, a price that seemed a little costly for the recruit of a simple worker whose duties only involve the movement of cargo boxes. And the title of the company arouses necessary attention, too, having it being known as the “Syndicate of Justice” for reasons unknown. But such a tasteful payment means that Susumu's questioning would put it to risk. It was similar to a once in a lifetime opportunity; Susumu would not lose the grasp of the decent job, even if it has to kill him...

Susumu's first arrival beneath the chain-linked fences, labeled with white metallic warning signs hooked to the silvery barriers, that bordered the grand architecture brought him amazement, awe, and feelings of similar aspects. The reason not being the existence of magnificence among the display of the edifice, but being that Susumu had never, in his boring life, been allowed to enter such an imposing structure or even be permitted onto a spot close enough for one to visualize such a building with the size of gigantic proportion. Measuring at approximately ninety-five square feet across Northern Odaiba, the towering foundation contained three floors of offices above five floors of genetic laboratories which, floored above the ground level where an attendant stood behind a marbled counter, an act which Susumu, ironically, had to perform every single dreadful nights.

Behind the hulking superstructure, big but dull it is, multiple items laid lying about the area which resembles the backyard of one's household, including rusted cranes sleeping in ruins, mid-grey crates stacked above each other amid murky rooms with blown out fuses, and a number of trucks with more heavily armored boxes of unknown contents.

After getting acquainted with the lady in blues at the front desk, Susumu was directed to a young man who introduced himself as 'Jake.' The staff member was dressed in an ordinary blouse one would find ordinary workers to wear in an office. Jake gave a brief welcome to the elderly man before leading him throughout the ground floor only to have them arriving at the hindquarters of the complex, before Susumu's daily duties were announced.

That day was normal, considering Susumu's later days in the working area. Jake, who also introduced himself as Susumu's superior upon arriving in the dump, requested for him to clear out various items the company considered to be junk. The father of two Chosen Children carried out further duties as told without interferences or abnormalities. Every aspect of his job seemed normal... other one moderate detail; he had yet to meet his boss.

Staff of minor and major ranks alike claimed the man who runs the company to be “extremely busy,” hence, would not be able to attend minor matters such as welcoming a new member among the tens of new recruits coming in everyday. Susumu, whose inquiry was only of curious intentions, was satisfied with the response he received, not that he could do much about his situation. Not that he needed to, either. He was well suited to the comfortable surroundings he had been introduced into, with an easy job that would almost be considered an act of slacking and a fulfilling amount of paycheck, Susumu could actually learn to live with his new direction towards his once pointless life, for half a year or so, at least.

July turned to August, then September, then the following month. Summer turned to Autumn, before the falling leaves of crimson were soon blanketed by layers of frost and snow as Winter gradually crept into Odaiba. The orders given to Susumu then remained unchanged, unaltered.

Every duty that was meant to be carried out were so, every flake of snow that were meant to land on the still peaceful Earth did, and every inch of cargo Susumu was meant to moved were shifted, that was until the aging man noticed fidgeting of a significant amount that which emitted a knocking sound from within one of the cubical crates in the grasp of the retracting claws attached to one of the cranes, one which Susumu was driving at that moment. He lowered the vice against the somber flooring below the container, before causing the engine to die out as he step out of the mechanism in order to receive an increased detail of the faint rumblings discharged continuously from the steel carton.

Upon a closer examination after steps were made towards the mysterious noise, the cargo worker discovered the factor that whatever, or whoever contained inside was responsive to him as he bang his fist on the surface of the fully sealed cage. Reluctantly, he analyzed the packaging in order to detect a lid of some sort. He knew his actions would put his magnificent paycheck in jeopardy. However, he had to know, like a curious cat drawn into an Amazonian trap.

Blindly, he felt his fingers across the cold, metallic structure. While doing so, he would stop for few seconds in order to check his surroundings; not a single soul must be aware of this violation of his contract, the rules and etiquettes of the workforce, and worse, the law of the country.

Portions of time slipped away, Susumu suddenly felt a gap in between the top part of the encasement. He lightly tugged on it, before applying a larger amount of force. He struggled, droplets of sweat broke out from his glands. Moments later, a hiss leaked out from the side of the wrapping, chalky puffs of smoke came out with it, misting the area as part of the confinement was pulled off and thrown onto the ground, a crash could be heard. Susumu waited. He waited for the fog to clear out on its own, hoping to perceive the contents within one of such containments he had to carry around for months.

The hazy substance gradually evaporated, revealing a faint shade of grey beyond the cloud. Unexpectedly, a shadowy sludge sprang out of the steam, emitting noises resembling panicking screams and outcries. The mass of goo slapped itself onto Susumu's face, shivering and fidgeting like a cowardly poltroon. Its howls had came to a stop, only to be replaced by a series of soft, unclear mumblings.

“Please... do not... do not kill me...”

Susumu's helpless arms spreaded wide open. He was not a man of temper, ironically, considering his child's crabby characteristic. He attempted to calm down the malachite, slimy creature whose muck had covered most of his face. Fortunately, his lips were sealed, or he would had been consuming Digimon products.

Yes, the glop glued to the hazel skin covering the man's structure was indeed, a Digital Monster. Two of his pupils stuck out from stalks planted on his green, oozing body filled with some patches of purple covering it. The creature was a Numemon.

[Ominous Flare]

“Easy... easy...” a muffled voice emitted beneath the clammy, living mask clinging to Susumu's hidden face, which was, a second ago, pounded by a creature he would had find bizarre and even, alien before he learned of the creature's identity.

Gradually, Susumu raised both sets of his digits towards the buried face, before setting the fingers set themselves onto the squashy physique of Numemon, the Digimon that which the other creatures under his genus detested by others, due to his unclean method of attack... But Susumu was unaware of that factor. In fact, he was unaware of most information regarding Digimon, as his interest was not placed towards the newly discovered species. Nevertheless, some thoughts dwelling in his mind revealed his suspicions about the identity of the creature who had attached his boneless grips onto his blankly expression.

The Digimon was still shivering with fear, but Susumu decided that sooner or later, the slime-ball had to come off, as members of the staff might discover the viscous piece of covering draped over his entire face.

His fleshy digits, once again, ran across the glutinous layer of Digimon whose resemblance was more of a piece of gooey skin than anything else. Gently, his fingers tugged onto portions of the sludgy texture. Cold stream of air soon entered an opening between the beast's underneath and the humanoid's disgusted expression. The Digimon was close to being loosened, most of its stubby tentacles had sprang away as if metallic springs were built beneath their flesh, though small pillars of translucent goo made their attempts at keeping the lumps of flesh remained attached to Susumu's irritated skin. Upon the gradual rebound, the stubby clamps were sucked downwards by the force of gravity. They made little swings from side to side for a brief moment, while Susumu continued his attempts towards removing the fragile creature whose energy seemed to be completely drained. It was not the factor of strength that had caused the Digimon's clasps to be so firmly nailed down, but it was the stickiness of the goo covered throughout his entire fleshy crust, a covering rarely seen on a typical Numemon, slightly differ from that one, who seemed to be emitting secretion of slime by the minute, possibly causing his rate of movement to be decreased instead of allowing him agile actions of jumps and leaps.

The Numemon's desire to be removed was equal to that of Susumu. But when you accidentally pin yourself onto someone's visage, when you are covered with a thick layer of crud, you cannot help but 'stick' around.

Nevertheless, both being's troubles were over a moment later, as Susumu manages to finally put the gummy creature out of his front, which took in a large wave of air through the extended lips located on it. The mixture of different substances, including some amount of glop aligning his orifice, entered the man's throat, before making themselves in between the windpipe beneath that, other organs beneath that, and so forth.

Susumu repeated his action of breathing for a couple more times, before realizing the content in between his adhesive palms; an equally mucilaginous creature whose eyelids had their entire flap of skin exposed outside, instead of attaching to the rest of his face like most animals.

Susumu could barely recognize what he, for a second, thought to be an animal, but then later realized that he was one of the creatures his son had in possession, and befriended with even. He knew that the equally confused creature held in his hands was a Digital Monster.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So you've been in there for months now, huh?” Susumu questioned, his khaki trousers laid against the filthy ground, his right leg kept straight, his left angled by the knee which his hands, in the shape resembling a gesture of praying, tucked upon the slate trouser. The fine fringes of cinnamon hair, which was in a short amount, were pushed against the side of the building that faced the two restful creatures, intervening with each other. The attention Susumu paid towards the Numemon was large in amount, clouded by a peculiar sort of warmth that made their conversation similar to one good friends would drown themselves in while having their first meeting after decades of period.

Appreciation was much displayed by the harmless critter whose actions were similar to those of a peasant. His body seemed to bent in shape, as if his structure was made of plastic, and that the rays of sunlight above had began to melt the creature, causing the body to be malformed. The stalks waving the pupils about in the air were lowered, too, along with his body which was filled with the a hue similar to that displayed on one's sickly expression. Upon tightening his body, more oozes of slush were emitted, before they slided onto the smooth texture below that which would be the flooring.

“Yes,” he answered. His dignity that were thrown off remained in its original position, unmoved by Numemon, who continued to show his respect towards his savior. “they kidnapped me from a sewerage located in the Digital world. I was dwelling about beneath the stones, when a group of mysterious men appeared out of the shadows. They threw a net of chain-linked substance over my surprised soul. Periods after my unconsciousness, I found myself to be trapped in the darkness. My skin felt itself around the surroundings and realized a barrier was bordered around me. Soon, I discovered that the barriers are the sides of the crate. The temperature within the texture felt low, its fabric was tough, hence I presumed it to be of a metallic structure. And then when I felt the ground beneath me was shaking, I knew that someone must had discovered the crate, or is shifting it. Hence, I tackled the sides of the box, attempting to get the attention of the one who's causing the cube to generate movements. You lifted the lid once above my sockets, a cloudy substance ascended, and here we are, kind sir, my body and your face covered with gook and sap.”

Upon being reminded, Susumu wiped the back of his beige palm across his waxy face, before pelting it against an open area towards his left, sending some amount of the sticking liquid onto the ground. He also noticed the distinct use of English the Digimon possessed. Though the fact that all Numemon of all kinds were considered to be dumb, detestable creatures who would fling their waste towards in the direction their enemies are located as a form a attack, remained unclear to Susumu, the human was astonished by the creature's complex use of the common language human beings had attempted to master over the years, with only few successfully in doing it.

“You sure know your English language.” Susumu thrust his arm gently towards Numemon in the form of a gesture as his compliment sparked a smile upon the rising 'body-face' of the digital creature.

Planted upon the pair of rising eye-stalks, Numemon's eyes were stimulated with glee and obligation, yet no presence of surprise and relief were found, as any being having complimented with such a comment would, at most probabilities, reply with, “Really?” while having an expression depicting wonderment; enlarged eyes, a cheesy smile are some features of the supposed visage. No. Instead, the Numemon was clear about the level of skill he possess in the English language.

“Thanks,” he slightly nodded his torso-head, that which its red, sloppy tongue that is stuck out of every Numemon was absent, too, “I am unsure and, definitely unaware of the reason I... differ from other... lesser Numemon. However... I am sure it involves the people who had transported me here. Excluding you, of course, my savior. An experiment of some sort, maybe, was probably conducted on me.”

The Numemon could visualize the confusions displayed through Susumu's bristling left brow that which the muscles above it had been jerked upwards, dragging the bush of hair below along. The human's dumbfounding was understandable by the unattractive monster. Hence, he furthered his explanation about his species.

“You see, I belong to a wide range of species known as the...”

“...the Digimon, those beastly creatures, I know.” Susumu interrupted. The Numemon was seemingly appalled by the human's rude action when his imaginary lips swung wide open, revealing the damp droplets of saliva lining a crimson structure. However, it was but an expression of intrigue and curiosity, not an annoyed one, as his intellectual mind seemed not to feature the events that took place years ago in the time of past, those that involved having Homo Sapiens being aware of their existence.

“Right,” the creature continued, after recovering from his awe. “Well, you see, my kind of species of Digimon is actually a rather dull one. A group of dummies, if you... primitives would put it. No offense.”

“None taken.”

As the two souls were transversing among themselves, a sudden appearance of a noise from an unknown source once again interrupted their exchanging of information. The sound resembled a metallic structure colliding onto another structure of a similar, or the same kind of fabric. No matter what the source of the noise would be, it sent a freezing stream of air right downwards both the man and Digimon's spine and skin, their attention turned towards the direction the distraction had traveled from. Both minds, either digital or fleshy, had a similar thought sparked around them; it was time to leave the vicinity before anyone discover Susumu's release of a cargo.

Yes, moments after that, Numemon was released into human society. His fate later was never known. But one would assume that a creature of such intelligence should be able to survive throughout the harsh surroundings of the Real World, despite the existence of murderers, rapists, and thugs alike, running about between shadowy allies in this... concrete world, filled with a less amount of greenery than the continents drifting across Numemon's home..

As for Susumu, he had returned to his grunt work soon after he had advised his new friend to escape the facility, with the creature filling with similar motives. He had checked the area after the Digimon made his move, but no other beings were found to be in the vicinity to be sneaking about or displaying actions that would otherwise be assumed as eavesdropping.

Though the area seemed to be secure, the man was not going to take any chances. After pretending to be cleaning up the cargo that was left opened, when he was actually sweeping the area with his visions, he moved on to his daily duties, portraying as no events of special elements had ever taken place, not as far as he could see anyway...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dusk, the time of the day where the slumberous workers would be covered with a gloom of drowsiness, as their unstable movements rock around their working areas, before collapsing into a comatose of sleepiness, with some performing antics which would be similar to walking corpses of zombies.

Unlike those men, Susumu was an active one. He kept his senses wide opened, and they were clear enough to percept the danger that abruptly loomed over their owner, in the form of a shadowy figure who loomed behind his shoulders. His shadow crept up on Susumu's white blouse with navy-blue thread-like markings aligning downwards, his expression was grim and somber, and his words filled with a coldness even the most endurable arctic creatures could not resist.

“Susumu...” the ghastly sound jolted the labor's spine, widening his pupils upon approach, “...I would like to see you in my office...”

[Ominous Flare]

“I'm home!” a smoothing voice was penetrated through the many hallways in the glass house, sending Taichi's eyelids to spring right open like a screen that was tugged upon before rebounding to its original position. The reminiscing stopped for a moment in order for the young boy to realize his younger sibling's arrival.

The youn-ger one was expecting the silent respond from the household, even if it was only seconds after her declaration. Most of the family members have left the world. Whether literally or metaphorically, the pre-teen did not care.

Her brother had drowned in the raging waves of sorrow that had clashed their swashes repetitively right onto his forehead before backwashing against the tide, repeating the process over and over again ever since the mysterious disappearance of their father. The courageous Taichi Yagami was of no more. He had thrown in the blood-drenched towels with that zestful energy sucked away like blood leeched away by a Vamdemon. As for his Digimon, he was but an unused, blunted saw-blade in the tool-shack, saddened by both the vanishing of his human partner's father and once optimistic nature.

The yellow-scaled lizard, though his integrity and spirit of fighting had been in existence for as long as one could imagine, he had been altered, slightly; his size had grown to a level comparable to a small child of about ten years of age. The mysterious alteration remained unknown in that period of time. Agumon had made speculations and theories but none of them were capable to be proven, especially when given the status of his doleful human partner who required his attention, care and nursing more than ever.

Hikari was not about to drop her mask of unconcern; the overachieving female had gained a series of excellent grades, she became the leader of the cheerleading squad in her Middle School, and she was even awarded several Merit Scholar Awards for the passing years. To the snobbish braggart, Taichi was, with his recent bereft antics considered, a mere piece of meat living alongside the real talent of the house whose light had overwhelmed the has-been... “Warrior... of... Courage...”

Ever since their loving mother was brutally slaughtered like an underdeveloped piglet in mid-winter, the once naiveness and innocence of the gingered-hair schoolgirl were seemingly banished into the depths of space and time, and were replaced by extremely unwelcome guests whose name-tags says, “acerbity” and “maliciousness.” Hikari was no longer the “Angel of Light.” In fact, one would find the past Chosen Children to have succumbed into a state of corruption, the reasons these occurrences were taking place being various and diverse.

Hikari laid forth her stubby footwear on the shimmering marble alongside two pairs of shoes which stood as elegantly as hers. The left pair was neatly polished, though the other shoes shimmered under the bulbs, too. That dark pair of footwear was a commonly seen Oxford shoe with laces in a similar color to its background. They belong to Jacob, the butler. Hence, their spotless textures were of no surprise. As for the second pair, it was the set of Adidas sports shoes Taichi had bought five years in the past, unused, unmoved. It was as if the young adult had not step out of the house for that stream of period.

Hikari rested her pair beside the laced footwear instead of having them siding with the sneakers. She was disgusted by her brother's old and moldy footgears that were not replaced despite having being worn out over the sands of time, or at least she attempted to be appalled. Her expression was almost a forced one, telling false tales of how much she detested her sibling, while huffs of hot air, heavy ones slipped away from her lungs.

'What an idiot, those shoes have got to be a thousand years old, yet that moron has kept it in the household. What a moronic, selfish prick! Why don't you just move out of my home already, you self-indulgent bastard!'

Her fine eyelashes rised while her moist pupils widened during the brief period those unpleasant thoughts ran across her budging mind, as if the herd of tamed Bullmon outside had broke out of their peaceful personalities and rampaged into her skull. As that straining event took place, the feline creature that had laid her flabby paws across the glossy flooring at that moment noticed the droplets of cold sweat aligning the sidings of her trusted partner's pinkish face, letting her on the knowledge that something about Hikari was amiss.

“Hikari!” Gatomon exclaimed, her blue widening pupils were equally spread among her sockets, while a tone of urgency and troubling thoughts were mixed into her high-pitched voice which was shot out rapidly and firmly. “What's wrong, Hikari?! Answer me!” Her voice gradually toned down, turning into a cry of desperation instead, especially after the stunned human had failed to respond to the worried call.

“Hikari,” a soften yell was let out, before a louder one came following, “Hikari!”

A few more yelps later, the dumbfounded female jerked her head a distance towards the left, her pupils swept across what seemed to her as an empty patch of tiles as she attempt to search for the source of the repetitive acclamation of her name.

“Hikari, it's me, Gatomon!”

When a full level of consciousness finally gave her wondering mind a good kick after a while, realization fell into place as her pupils finally caught sight of her anxious guardian whose snow-white fur had the same amount of sweat dewed over it. The pupils of the feline creature had thinned themselves out, forming two black lines within the teal, crystal sclera due to that jolt of comatose that had hit the digital partner upon shock and horror. The droplets of sweat had been aligned on her other features as well, such as the fine strands of whiskers that were fidgeting along the course of her head, that which moved back and forth repetitively as streams of warm air were huffed from behind her fangs revealed under the faint rays of the little sunlight that had entered the structure. That horrendous expression spread itself onto Hikari's expression like a highly contagious disease. Both beings of different species were equally shocked by the way each had acted in the minutes that had came to pass.

“Gatomon?” The girl dressed in a hooded, wool jacket managed to spit out her exclamation, while the constant motion of moving air continued to have the oxygen flowing along its course in between her hardened lips. Her uneasy body repetitively and scarcely shifted in directions of rising and descend. Covered under the fluffy garment that which a skin of Kerlon stretched forth was the cloud of stench generated across Hikari's perspired body. The diaphoresis any intelligent being would have unwanted was not caused by the wild, raging thoughts that had just vanished, nor did it have anything to do with the size of the more-than-spacious house. Hikari was sweating merely because of their previous activity that was exhilarating enough to force those waste waters out; a brief period of jogging throughout the birth of the morning when the full blast of solar beams had yet to arrive and brighten that meadowy land set across the islands of New Zealand.

The disruptive commotion would and had obviously magnetized the only man of the household, who had been in the very same spot he had been in for the passing minute; above the bridge connecting the stairs to the rest of the second floor, where Taichi had witnessed the troubling trance his sister was set in, though his expression told of another feeling rather than worry. It was a stale one where coldness and uncaring were applied, seemingly indicating the elder brother's ignore towards Hikari's well being. On the other hand, she could not care less, either, even if someone had threatened her to with a dagger against the flap of skin covering her perspiry throat. No, instead, a look of annoyance was thrown towards her elder sibling upon noticing his presence with her darting visions. It was a look that told tales of hatred, one that acknowledged the older Yagami of just how reluctant she was to catch sight of that wretched beast; a beast to the young glaring female, anyway.

“What are you doing up there?” Hikari demanded, with Gatomon looking away from yet another outburst of her partner. She had seen enough of such behaviors to remember the expressions, feelings and actions that would be taking place. “Have you been eavesdropping me?!”

Hikari's accusation was blunt, as Taichi purely, without a doubt, treated it as an amusing remark rather than a hurtful form of disrespect. Though his heart mocked the comment in the silence of the once serene morning, not a speck of expression on his face indicated his scorn and hidden laughter, there was only an expression depicting peevishness and vexation.

“Only an idiot would want to listen to those pointless conversations you discuss with that...” he continued, his visions shifted onto Gatomon who, along with Hikari, evidently curious about the distracted pupils, had also noticed the shift of attention, “...scum.”

The scornful insult brought about a raging pulse into the juvenile's reflexes, as shown by the seemingly disposal of her arm which was thrown downwards the leaden pelt that coated her shirtless body. A sentence was brought along during her compulsive action. “Don't you dis Gatomon!” she warned. The feline creature acknowledged her partner's words, and was grateful about it, but her cat-eyes remained on the tilings as a cloak of sadness was draped over her heavy head, her eyelids gradually retracted as the battle goes on.

“I could do whatever crap I want to do!” The agitated howling exploded throughout the aspects of the interior, perhaps striking Hikari's fragile body, too, as soon after, a deluge of tears crashed through her glimmering membrane and fell onto the flooring with that similar glossy texture. Soon, the glim of the floor was increased as the droplets of vapor washed themselves across the bed of marble like the gushing river at the pit of a dry season. Gatomon was clearly enraged - one could tell from the hollow gaps her one set of claws had carved out beneath her snout. Her glaring pupils were fully exposed, her eyelids tore open; they were fueled with anger and distress. The rage had came from her friend's sudden weeping, and the frustration came from the status of this family.

Taichi's heart had finally been pierced, though he, once again, had yet to reveal his true feelings towards his sniveling sister.

His kneeling sister.

Soon after those eye glands were burst, Hikari crashed her kneecaps on the grounding in a begging manner. The older sibling was unwilling to witness such a tearful sight. Though his head had turned away, that noise of sobbing continued its process of piercing his eardrums and his cracking heart. His grip on the silvery railing before him tightened, his eyes felt like they were being pushed out of their sockets. He could not stand watching the tragic scene a second longer. He marched his shivering, bare feet towards the stairs with a rapid rate, his feet drummed the wooden steps repetitively with great strength, igniting a series of 'dums' and 'tums' sounds tossed between the handle bar and the opposite wall the notches were aligned to.

Upon his final tread in the constant padding, Taichi persisted on his movement, ignoring the two. Taichi moved on to the gloomy hallway ahead of him, where another being had secluded himself behind one of the dusky doors laid out in the shadowy space. He had too witnessed the horrifying incidents while peaking behind the piece of reddened wood. Witnessing these scenes again, chills and shiver were sent down his splint... that was untill Taichi's arrival on the ground-floor. Agumon backed a small distance away from the heavy, opened door. His focus were placed on the tiny, vertical gap between the door and the wall. Soon, abruptly, the door swung away from its position, a hollowing creak crept into the room. As the crimson door swung across its gradient, the threatening figure of a humanoid loomed over the saddened, descended face of the 'biting monster.'

“Agumon, let's go.” The Tamer gestured slightly with his face. His message was clear, his intentions obvious, yet his mind took a while to command the movement of his head towards the teenage Digimon who occupied the space before him.

It seemed as though the entire household had gained the urge of hatred towards young Yagami, who exchanged his stare that implicated Agumon's uncanny behavior with the Digimon's glare of animosity. He locked his eyes on the digital stranger he seemed to have distant, descending them for a bit before raising them again onto the scaly snout. Seeing no purpose in this, his heavy footsteps paced away from those hostile, green, thread-like pupils that were firmly locked onto Taichi and his dismissal.

Though in Taichi's mind, Agumon was obviously filled with detestation, the Digimon realized a second later that the distaste for his partner could not be allowed of its existence, as his only purpose as Taichi's partner was to ensure the welfare of Taichi Yagami, one of the Chosen Children destined to defend the two worlds for as long as their lives are sustained. He tilted his snout a tad downwards, realizing his fate, his curse... But all in all, his concern towards Taichi remained existing. All members in the household possessed an equal amount of concern, despite having those feelings hid away beneath their masks which were hardened through time, through the consistent grinding of Taichi's recent selfishness.

Outside the room, another set of footsteps followed Taichi, clashing against the darkened marble floor with a noise sharing more resemblance with miniature tremors. Initially, Taichi had failed to notice the pair of claws that had joined his own stale set of feet, whose movement was easily caught up by the scaled reptilian, his snout poking its way towards his long term companion. Only then did the human child noticed his digital partner, though his acknowledgment was less than expressed as his head remained motionless, his eyes not shifting any distance towards Agumon. However, the creature's strained mind had began to find anger and rage to be insipid. Hence, he did not wish to meddle in such minor details, but ignorantly followed the silent human, whose lips were finally sealed for least one good moment.

Out of the shadowy hallway, the two beings revealed themselves to the tearing sister whose continuous outcry had turned into a series of soft whimpers as she gently twists her neck towards their direction. Beside her, the infuriated feline left her claws inserted deep into the tile, her head remained in the descending, frozen position it was in, though her acute, long ears fidgeted a little, having to pick up the noise caused by the creeping footsteps unhurriedly laid forth on the tiles.

Slowly, the two ashamed males with a lowered head paced past the fidgeting Gatomon whose pupils remained unmoved, past the sobbing Hikari whose tired eyes remained on the ground facing the dark hallway they came from. They detested who they were, what they were doing, yet the human of the pair denied that feeling of self-hatred. Maybe he could not resist, but as both were padding away, Taichi helplessly eyed his sister's partner Digimon by the corner of his left eye which was brought towards the feline's face by his neck's slight pivot.

Upon Taichi's sudden change of targeting, Gatomon gained that familiar feeling one would receive when another was to lay his eyes upon him. She performed the similar little amount of rotation with her head, her eyelids were, by a large extent, curtained down above her teary pupils that which were soaked through the triggering of franticness, before a sudden motion of ascending was brought a forth by her as she made her way towards Taichi's tawny cheek after her paws had sprang to life. The tanned boy was rather surprised by that action, so surprised that he was unready to dodge that slap against his cheek made by Gatomon's fully extracted claws that which, not only leaving three lines of bloodstains on the swarthy skin, but also managing to tackle the young adult down towards the marbled flooring, leaving a sense of pain and retribution, as Gatomon ground herself, her body motioned continuously with the rhythm of her rapid breathing that which its speeding rate was not caused by the draining of energy, but was due to the freed of her wrath, like an air-pumper releasing its hot air.

With his palms pushing the ground as a support of his tired body, Taichi's heart was filled with, at that moment, anything but regret. Though he was pounded onto the ground like a slain, foul beast, his body was smoking with a state of frenzy, his body fidgeting with vehemence, his words filled with umbrage. “You... bitch!”

Before Gatomon could respond to his dastardly words, a raging spirit seemed to descend itself upon Taichi's already infuriating soul, possessing it, and performing actions he would had never imagined... till he actually realized it further on... Losing control of his sanity, he pounced towards the unaware Digimon and sent a left hook across her squelching eyelids before having his right fist performing the same course of action that delivered Gatomon's wounded head back to its original position in the violent manner. Taichi continuously punched across her furry cheeks as though she was simply a rag doll being toyed around in a destructive manner. Five seconds of pelting came to pass, heavy breath was rubbed against the caverned carpet behind his lips before expelled into the intense atmosphere, as his chest participates in a repeated pattern of expanding and, consecutively, being magnetized back while his torso performed the similar rhythm for seconds to come.

Miniature period of time had their sands dragged away by the plastic arrow that represented the seconds among the other shorter hands representing the minutes and hours of the current period, displayed as seven thirty-seven Ante Meridiem. Though a series of commotion had occurred, the noise of ticking the analog clock had to offer pierced through the blanket of silence that which was covering the area for a brief period lasting four seconds. The agonizing solar had finally showed its radiant face, broking through the nearby window that which its metallic frame glowed along with the rest of the furnishings before passing on towards the antique structure of the time-keeper, whose grandfather clock design downed the high class building to a timeworn display. Its chime swung from the only two directions it was capable of moving towards in the narrow, shady space beneath its face, that which the hand giving out the unnoticed information of the seconds caused a constant recital of noise - tick, tick, tick.

As the imposing being gained the thought of having his tightly clenched fist sweeping another mauling attack against the injured animal's barely breathing body carpeted above the blazing tiles the sunlight had touched upon, her weeping soul was seemingly defeated, as her intention to wake up the foolish nitwit had failed to be carried out, and her dry pupils were drained of their energy to be widely opened. Before Taichi could release his next punch, Hikari's outcry stopped his attack from taking place.

“Stop!” A whim was dragged out as she begs for mercy from her own family, her sobbing face shook gently, before Taichi's realization took place.

He retracted his shivering hands after examining their bloodstained background, and pulled himself away from the horrendous sight, with a muted Agumon confusingly tagging along as seconds pass, leaving the two broken souls in this glassy household.

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