“It’s all your Fault.”

She was running, the gravel churning up behind her as she heard her pursuer’s ragged breathing. She could barely see in front of her, the darkness pummelling her vision, causing black spots. And when she glanced over her shoulder, it didn’t help. Two beasts. One beast. Humanoid, bestial, and amorphous, all at once. Happy, and sad, and utterly furious. Neither side giving way as the multicoloured ribbons reached out to rip the life away from her body.

She closed her eyes, and powered forwards, but the gravel grew thicker, engulfing her feet and crawling up her legs, her body, burying into her skin, until she was up to her neck, the sharp stones piercing her eyes and slicing her skin. And she began to fall, her legs flailing in a thick darkness.

She found herself turning, facing her attacker as he reared back, the faces shifting between expressions like nothing.

“It would be better Off if you Were Dead.”

“We Would All be Better Off.”

“Why are You Playing the Hero?”

The girl blinked, feeling the ribbons whipping past her face as they fell away. In amongst them, something else stirred. Someone. Someone else. The shape morphed, rearing back with a fury greater than before. Coming for her. Coming for her head.

“Why are you playing the hero, you little shit?”

Bang. Pain. A flash of white in the blackness. She staggered, her hand going to her left eye.

“Get out of the fucking way.”

No.

“This has nothing to do with a bastard kid like you.”

Yes it does.

“You don’t belong here.”

You don’t belong here.

“They’re my fucking family, unlike you. I can treat them how I want.”

You can’t have them.

I won’t let you.

Bang.

“You...”

Leave them alone.

They’re my family.

Not yours.

Not after this.

“You hit me…”

Go away.

Now.

I won’t let you hurt them anymore.

I won’t let you hurt any of-

“You jumped-up little BITCH!”

More pain. Again and again, constant, driving, hammering; she couldn’t stand up any more. All she could do was curl up on the floor, taking the pain, taking all his anger on for as long as she could bear. All the while keeping her body firmly in between the dark, dark presence in front of her, and the terrified crying behind. Lights and sounds. Yelling. Pain. Breaking glass. More pain. Flashing lights...thumping noise...the taste of iron in her mouth...the crying...still the crying...keep going...keep him busy...someone will come...somebody has to come soon...

“Why Won’t you Just DIE-“

Lonnie sat up in bed, sweat flying from her face as she stared into the blackness, disorientated. She sat there for a few minutes, taking gulps of air. Her hand went to her eye. She flinched, her shoulders rising and falling, but the pain was just in her head. Well...not really. Her shoulder still hurt from the stab wound, and her limbs ached all over. Not ideal. But better than it could have been.

She frowned, tilting her head. The pain was her own imagination, maybe. But there was definitely someone crying, faint and muffled, just outside the room.

All of a sudden there was a knock at the door, and she jumped, quickly leaping to her feet and striding across her room. She gently opened the door to find Anna standing outside, her hair a mess and her face turned away, clearly distressed.

“What’s wrong, Anna?”

The young girl held the hem of her nightdress, biting her lip. “Sorry...Sian...had an accident...”

Lonnie let out a breath, opening the door fully.

“I see.”

“She’s crying. I can’t do anything.”

“Hold on a moment, I’m coming.”

Lonnie took a moment just to grab her dressing gown and fluffy slippers. She paused, looking down at the laundry basket at the end of her bed. Axolomon groaned inside it, and twisted her body, her fleshy gills twitching in the air. Lonnie didn’t wake her. Her partner needed the rest.

The girl followed Anna down the hallway and into the sisters’ bedroom, where Sian was coiled up in a ball on the bed, her shoulders shaking. Lonnie walked over and knelt down in front of her, ignoring the smell and the wetness on the bedsheets.

“Sian?”

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry...the b-b-bad man was coming...he was c-coming...”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, come here...”

Lonnie coaxed the six-year-old off the bed and into her arms, gently rocking her as she rested her chin on the little girl’s head. Sian sniffed, blubbering into Lonnie’s shoulder.

“Please...don’t be mad...I’ll be a g-g-g...good girl...”

“I’m not mad. I’d never be mad. I promise. It’s not your fault.”

Lonnie held her tighter, closing her eyes as the blackness overwhelmed her again.

“Everything’s okay. The bad man isn’t here anymore. It’s just me. Me and mummy and Anna.”

The two embraced each other, until Sian’s sobs quietened down. Lonnie gently helped her onto her feet, and peeled her sodden nightdress off of her. Sian stood awkwardly, her hands held in front of her and her face and eyes a deep red. Lonnie gave a small smile, shaking her head, before passing the damp bundle over to Anna.

“Do you mind stripping the bed, please? Just put it all in the machine; I’ll sort it in a minute.”

Her other sister looked about to cry herself, but she nodded without a word. Lonnie stood up, cradling Sian in her arms and nuzzling her cheek. Sian held her arms around her half-sister’s shoulders, and Lonnie paused, feeling the familiar hold. Although back then, it had been somebody else holding her close. Her crying. Her mother leaning in, and whispering in her ear.

It’s not your fault.

It’s never been your fault.

Everything’s alright now.

Lonnie grinned, and walked out into the hallway with her littlest sister in her arms.

“Come on then, squirt, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Mark ran, the beat pounding in his ears as his trainers thudded against the belt of the treadmill. His body was aching from the effort, and that was how he wanted it. Pain kept him focused. Pain kept his mind from drifting. That he really didn’t need. He just kept his head forwards, staring at nothing with an intensity he was barely aware of.

The machine beeped at him, and the belt slowed to a jogging pace. 10k. Of course it wouldn’t last forever. Mark carried on, his breathing slowing down as his legs switched from jogging to walking. Finally he stepped off, the machine whirring down behind him. He stood there for a moment, catching his breath. Between that and the several reps of weight training before he thought he might have overdone it; he certainly had in the past. Usually when he was feeling distracted. A part of him wanted to carry on, but he planted his hands on his cheeks. Causing himself an injury wasn’t going to help anyone.

A few minutes later he had retreated to the showers, the lukewarm water easing the pain in his muscles. He paused, staring down at himself without thinking. The slight gut was still there, much to his irritation, but his normal self-consciousness wasn’t bothering him as much today. His knees were still red-raw, coming up with some nasty scabs where he had hit the gravel hard. His knuckles were much the same, with several lacerations over his fingers after his attempt to rescue his partner. He had a bruise on his collar, and a deep gash in his side, which had pulled apart from the workout and was oozing blood into the cold stream. He couldn’t even remember where that had come from.

There was a gurgle, and the shower slowed to a trickle, the time limit over. Mark rested a palm against the wall, and held the bridge of his nose for a good minute. His head still felt clogged up. It had taken all his self-restraint not to start throwing dumbbells across the room. But again, that wouldn’t exactly have helped matters.

Not that he knew what exactly would.

A few minutes later, he slowly dressed himself, buttoning up his shirt as he prepared to go back to reality. He opened his locker to retrieve his jumper, and paused, staring into the holdall. Psittamon was still curled up inside, his curved jaws gently rubbing up and down against each other as he slept. There was a warm fuzz around his body; looking like the very aura of him fixing himself.

Mark smiled, and gently closed the door again. He was sure Trilomon had explained it to him at somepoint; how Digimon worked here as opposed to the Digital World. For a brief moment he thought maybe he ought to call and ask for advice, but then it hit him exactly what that would entail.

“Nope. Not happening.”

Still, as he pulled the bag over his shoulder and slowly walked out into the foyer, he did recall Trilomon’s need for calories, and fished around in his wallet for a few pieces of loose change. Two pounds forty. Enough for a little something for him and for his reduced partner, even taking into account the vending machine’s exorbitant prices.

On choosing the snacks, he picked up something in his ear, and turned towards the TV in the corner of the room, emitting a subtitled news broadcast. Reality came hurtling back into his mind with an unwarranted crash, as he once again witnessed the extent of the damage to the old railway yard. The voiceover continued, her words imprinted in bright yellow at the bottom of the screen.

“...the twenty-year old woman is believed to have died at the scene. Upon further investigation three other bodies have been found, coinciding with some of the missing people and bringing the total fatalities from the incident up to four. Local police has informed us that there are still seven people missing, also believed to be victims of this act. Eyewitness reports confirm the debris matches the garments formed by the hostile creature, which is also believed to have been killed at the scene. However local authorities have been unable to confirm this and the public is urged to stay away from the area for their own safety.”

The words carried on, each one drilling further and further into Mark’s head as he watched the two energy bars spiral out towards him. One of them toppled down, but the other leant forwards and stuck against the glass of the vending machine.

“God DAMNIT!”

The young man slammed a palm out, and the bar clattered downwards into the tray. He became aware of the man at the till glaring at him, and mumbled an apology under his breath. As he bent down, he felt a vibration from his pocket, and pulled out his phone, looking at his messages.

“Hope you’re alright.We all need to talk; please meet at Eloise and Kai’s tomorrow morning. Alasdair.”

Mark’s holdall shifted; a sign that Psittamon was stirring inside. The young man sighed, and gently slid the phone shut.

Damn...reality sucked.

“I’ve never felt so powerless.”

Jai rested his head in his hands, staring down at the ground as he kicked back and forth. Mira sat beside him, gingerly reaching out and nudging him on the shoulder.

“I’m sure you did everything you could.”

“Everything?”

There was a sneer from the other side of the room, as Brom planted a fist against the scuffed wall. “We had that thing where we wanted it and we blew it. We failed. That’s not good enough.”

Raif held her arm next to the taller woman, which caught Brom’s attention. “What are you giving me that look for?”

“It’s not their fault-“

“Yes it is! And yours! Don’t give me that crap; we’re supposed to actually try and stop this crap from happening-“

“Hey Brom, enough.”

The taller woman turned to see Zeke staring at her, his visor raised but his eyes still covered by goggles as he held a mess of shattered electrical components in his hand. He turned towards her, the light reflecting from his visor.

“What’s done is done. We already lost one of our own last night. It won’t help to get into fractures now.”

Brom folded her arms, and marched away, muttering under her breath. Raif gingerly followed her, while Jai and Mira went back to feeling sorry for themselves. Zeke huffed, and returned his attention to the broken equipment, his soldering iron smoking beside him as Rick tried his best to keep up.

To say the whole atmosphere was dour would have been an understatement. With many of them still harbouring hefty injuries, and with the shock of one of their party’s sudden death, the determination and sense of duty had fallen by the wayside. But, Vex had to admit to himself, they had still shown up. The mission was important to them; as much as it was to him.

It had been important to Via too.

He looked away, running his gloves down the doorframe as he pulled his coat further up over his shoulders. Looking up, he saw Kade leaning against the exit, as chill as he usually was.

“You not gonna send out a party tonight? I think a few are fairly up for it.”

Vex pocketed his hands. “It’s not the right time.”

“The Digimon aren’t gonna stop invading just because we had a loss.”

“I don’t want to risk anyone else right now, Kade. We’re in rough shape. It’s asking for trouble.”

“Suit yourself.” Kade looked the leader of the gang up and down, before kicking back against the wall. “It’s not like you to chicken out.”

“And it’s not like you to have any sense of compassion, but you know. Time and a place.” Vex sighed, and beckoned Kade to move. “I’m heading out. Keep everyone safe tonight. Try and fix our stuff up a bit.”

There was the sound of a raspberry from beneath Kade’s helmet. “ Blegh. Maintenance work.”

“Just get on with it.”

Kade watched as the taller man walked past him, before speaking over his shoulder, “Y’know, I get the feeling that if I ever met you in real life I wouldn’t like you very much.”

“That’s mild. I’d probably beat the shit out of you. No offense.”

“Offense taken but probably justified.” Kade waved a hand, and wandered back inside. “ Take care of yourself and shit, whatever, I don’t care.”

Vex gave a loud, frustrated breath, but he didn’t respond, instead just walking away from the group’s hideout. The night air was cold, biting through his jacket and causing his dressed wounds to flare up, but he didn’t really notice, just trying to put as much distance between himself and the whole affair as possible.

After about twenty minutes he slowed, finding himself at the edge of a park, underneath a streetlamp. It flickered, casting a spindly shadow as he removed his helmet, his eyes blinking against the light. He held it under one arm, and absentmindedly held his other hand up, rolling the fingers. They were shaking. That wasn’t right. He didn’t shake. He never had.

The vision of the previous night came back to him; the great, monstrous silhouette, bearing down towards him. Heading straight for his head.

He flinched, and burst out into a coughing fit, before pulling his hand away again. It was only just hitting him; Via very nearly hadn’t been the only casualty that night.

And yet that Digimon had stepped in front of him. Taken the blow; probably gotten hurt. For...what. For him?

He shook his head, and leant back against the pole, staring into the gloom.

“Owen...what would you do if I never came home?”

Seconds passed. His hand slid into the inner pocket of his jacket, and pulled out a small black phone with a cracked screen. He removed his glove, and unlocked it, being greeted with the image of him in a much younger and better-looking time, standing alongside a beautiful woman with dyed russet hair, and a ten-year-old Owen. He remembered that holiday. Malta, nine years ago. Owen had refused to get out of the hotel pool on the last day.

His thumb hovered over the contacts, and he brought up Owen’s number, pressing the dial button. He pressed downwards, listening to the dial-tone as he brought it close to his ear. It kept ringing. Six times. Seven times. Voicemail. Trevor let the robotic message play out, but ended the call after the tone, letting his arm fall down. Of course.

“Owen, we...I...can’t leave things as they are. Not after...this.”

His voice was quiet, swallowed by the evening gloom. Trevor exhaled, and with his helmet under his arm, walked back towards his solitary home.

Frost crept over the windows, reaching out in tiny icy fingers as the night grew colder and colder. The air was still and silent, without even the tiniest breeze to cause a sound. But in amongst the building, a cloud of smoke still drifted lazily, dispersing through gaps and congregating in front of windows. It whirled, and twisted, shimmering between a deep red and a dark purple as it floated along with a slight purpose.

There was the sound of shouting in the distance, and the cloud paused. It reached up, then altered its path, heading up higher as it began to twist over the railings of a balcony. There it sat, reaching up with spectral hands and overlooking the carnage below with a fixed, wicked smirk. It may not have had the intelligence to really appreciate the technicalities of a good skirmish, but there were some things which held universal interest regardless.

“Rabid Ripper!”

“Nemesis Ivy!”

“Lucky Doubloon!”

Projectiles flew left and right as two of Yethmon’s gang were thrown backwards, and the hound himself responded by taking a flying leap, holding both crimson claws out in front of him. He latched onto his assailant; a large man with neither a mask nor any of the hunters’ gear, but despite his apparent vulnerability he was still able to hold the Digimon back and push him against a wall, punching the hound in the face. Yethmon let out a woof, and latched his jaws over the man’s fist, drawing blood as his eyes glowed red.

“You’ve picked the wrong night to piss me off!”

“Let go of him, you freak!”

A young woman in clubbing attire suddenly ran forwards and belted Yethmon in the stomach with a plank of wood, causing him to let go and fall backwards. He crawled away, feeling all around for his knife but coming up blank. All around him, his gang members were getting overwhelmed as well, as the wall of humans grew more populated. They threw bottles, threw insults, and threw Suricamon on at least two occasions as she tried to drop down and brain them with a shovel. And ever so slowly the gang was driven backwards, corralled into a single group by the jeering crowd.

“Get the fuck out of here!”

“We’re not taking your shit anymore!”

“Next time you come back, you’ll need a goddamn ambulance!”

“Wozzat?” yelled Suricamon, who leapt to her feet and spun around, brandishing her shovel despite being half-blind from a belter of a black eye. She ran off in a random direction, but MudFrigimon reached out and held her tightly, throwing clods of earth at the rioters. Liopramon hung back, holding two fingers to his lips as he looked at a distinctly dishevelled Yethmon.

“I can’t help but notice we are now a bit outnumbered, fearless leader.”

“Shut up. I won’t let them insult us like this!”

There was a yell, and suddenly from out of nowhere an entire chair was thrown from the back steps of the club, sailing through the air and crashing into MudFrigimon’s head. He cried out, and staggered, his head bubbling from the blow as the crowd erupted into drunken cheers, growing stronger by the second.

Liopramon frowned, and tipped his hat. “Yeah, to feck with this. I’m not dying tonight.”

Before Yethmon could stop him, he’d turned on his heels and was running back down the alleyway, with Alraumon and Kokabuterimon following behind him. Yethmon ground his teeth, but he knew in his heart there was nothing he could do. The situation had gotten out of hand. Yet again. It was happening a lot these days.

“Everyone retreat!”

MudFrigimon stood in front, forming a wall as best as he could, with the smaller Digimon all gathered behind him. As a group, they rushed back into the shadows, with the triumphant bellows of the clubbers filling their heads as they did so.

Yethmon kept his head down as he ran, scooting to the head of the pack as Liopramon and the other escapees held back to allow him to catch up. The leprechaun placed his hands in his pockets, breaking out into a light jog as he smirked. “’Nother rough night, so it seems.”

“Quit your fucking yammering and keep running.”

Liopramon shrugged, and pulled his hat further over his head, as Yethmon galloped on all fours through the streets. His head hurt, and his stomach, and most of the rest of him. His breath formed white clouds in front of him as his eyes glowed a deep crimson.

“Humans...are the fucking worst...”

From up above, the cloud of smoke watched in interest as the gaggle of outlaws dispersed, obviously heading to their new hideout. The Kankomon placed its spindly fingers against its chin, and allowed itself a little moment to appreciate the result. Already the crowd of clubbers were beginning to group up again, helping their own injured.

The Kankomon snickered, and dispersed back into smoke, which whipped through the alleys and over the rooftops until it spun, like a little wisp of wind, back into its master’s pipe. Reynarimon nodded, tapping his foot as he held an MP3 player in one hand, his headphones pulsing. He raised his other one, and took a drag from the pipe, the Kankomon returning to the hive-mind of spirits within his own body.

“Ooh, dearie me. Things do seem to be going downhill for you, don’t they, Yethmon.”

He breathed out, a puff of smoke billowing out from the end of his smirking fox mask. “Mind you, it’s no wonder after that whole nasty business with Dramatismon. I did warn you it wouldn’t last. Humans are truly tenacious beasts. They don’t take kindly to folks like us.”

Reynarimon let out a thoughtful hum, as he stared up into the sky, the stars above covered with thick cloud.

“What interesting times we all live in...”

Despite the sun the next morning, the mood wasn’t great as the tamers sat around Eloise and Kai’s table, poking at glasses of water and cups of tea with little enthusiasm. Alasdair leant back, holding a few papers in his hands.

“We’re missing a couple of people. Are we expecting Grace?”

Jack raised a palm. “She said she had to take a phonecall this morning. I haven’t seen her since.”

“And Owen?”

Jack shrugged. So did everybody else. Alasdair looked a little peeved, but he let it go, his expression turning to one of worry. He placed the papers down in front of him; a series of statements from several of the kidnapped people, along with what the tamers had told him themselves. Lonnie leant over, peering at the top of the first page. It was Tragediemon’s last words. The sinister message that had been running through her mind – and she expected everybody else’s – for the past twelve hours.

“This is very troubling.”

Mark folded his arms and leant back. “Do you know anything about Dramatismon?”

The man shook his head. “I’ve never seen any reference to him or heard about him. He came completely out of nowhere.”

Jack pushed his body up, stretching out his right knee, which was bound up quite tightly after its abuse. “He said something about being a watcher, right?” He glanced over at Chromon. “Anything to do with you or Phoukamon back in the day?”

Chromon started as he felt all the eyes of the room upon him, especially his own partner’s. He rolled his tail to one side. “If I knew anything about h-him, I would have s-said something.”

Mark raised an eyebrow. “Watchers?”

Chromon looked sheepish. “An old l-l-life. Back in the old w-world.”

Mark looked between Jack and his partner with some disdain, before looking the other way. “Brilliant. Why am I always the last to know these things?”

“In any case,” interjected Alasdair, “watchers shouldn’t exist anymore with the new world. And by the sound of it he wasn’t exactly following the job accurately.”

Inez rubbed behind her head. “Yeah...he didn’t exactly strike me as the ‘protect and conserve’ type. I wonder why he was so desperate. Talking about seeing the story and how it all ends. How do you get like that?”

“Clairvoyance.”

Alasdair held the bridge of his nose, before pushing the paper further out. “Manic behaviour...inability to listen to reason...a sense of his own justice, combined with all of this?”

Lonnie glanced up at her mentor. “You think he really could see the future?”

“He wouldn’t be the first Digimon I’ve known with that ability.” Alasdair’s eyes flickered downwards, seeming to glisten more than usual. “It’s one hell of a curse to have. I wonder how many it’s driven mad over the years.”

Lonnie reached out gingerly, and pulled the sheet towards her. “So...all this...it’s really going to happen? There’s nothing we can do?”

Mark shook his head. “It’s freestyle poetry, Lonnie. We don’t even know what all this is.”

“We can make a guess.”

She tried to pull it closer, but Alasdair reached out and retrieved it, straightening it all in his hands. “I have friends of my own who can look over this. Whether it’s true or prophetic or what, it’s not something you should really be worrying about right now.” He pulled back, looking away. “Actually it probably wouldn’t do any of you any harm to lay low for a while. Everybody’s on the warpath out there.”

Jack sat up. “But what if any more Digimon come through?”

“Do what you have to. But no more. Please, at least until this whole situation is a bit less delicate.”

With little else to talk about, the others began to disband, heading back to their own lives. Only Lonnie was left in the living room with Alasdair.

“Uncle Ali...?”

Alasdair turned round, seeing her playing with her pigtails nervously. He smiled. “It’s perhaps not appropriate to be congratulating you in the current circumstances, but I gather Dendromon finally managed to evolve. Fantastic work.”

“Thanks. I mean...she is, but...well...” Lonnie sighed. “It could have been so much better. We could have won without all the casualties and the injuries. It’s not right.”

“Sometimes you have to do the best you can. You need to know it’s not your fault.”

“But if I’m not the best I can be, then how can I believe that?” retorted Lonnie, more sharply than she meant to. “It’s taken me this long to help Dendromon, but she had no control, and used up far too much energy. I can’t keep holding everyone else back.”

Alasdair sighed, looking sadly up at her. “What do you want me to do?”

“What can you do?” Lonnie leant against the door, her hair falling in front of her face. “You had a past with the digital world. There has to be some way you can help.”

“I said I want you to lay low-“

“This is my responsibility, Uncle Ali! What if someone else comes; someone bigger and badder and-”

“Lonnie, I can’t lose you!”

Lonnie took a breath at the sudden raised voice, but she gripped the door, scrunching her face up. Alasdair held his arms back, his eyes not meeting hers.

“Do you understand? You, Grace; all of you very nearly didn’t come home yesterday. I can’t let that happen. I don’t want to lose any of you.”

“And I don’t want to lose anyone else. They need me. They need me at my best, and right now...I’m not.”

Alasdair saw the pain behind her eyes, and turned slightly, placing a hand over his mouth. He’d seen that look before. Several years ago. The same stance. Even after all the pain and the hurt, she was still the same, unstoppable girl.

“I...I’m...”

He let out a breath. “I’m sorry, Lonnie. It’s...not the right time. Please understand.”

He glanced up, as a reflection passed over the window. “My taxi’s here. Could you give me a hand, please?”

For a millisecond, Lonnie’s face cracked open in hurt. Then she smiled warmly.

“Always.”

Grace held her handbag nervously as she hung around outside of college. She ran her hands through her ponytail in front of her, before abandoning it and picking up her phone, holding it tightly. She still had the message there; the one from this morning.

“Hi Grace, it’s Nicholas. So...sorry, but...can you hang around a bit after college? I need to see you. Nothing bad. I hope to see you. Okay, love...I mean...take care. Bye.”

She smiled a little remembering it; she’d already picked up that he wasn’t the most eloquent with his feelings. But at the same time, it wasn’t exactly reassuring. Beneath her calm exterior her heart was pounding, almost as much as it had been the previous night.

“All this is not good for my health...”

“All what?”

Grace yelped, and fumbled her phone in her hands, only just barely catching it before it smashed on the pavement. She stood up quickly, her face a bright red as she faced away from Nicholas.

“You’re very good at giving a woman a fright.”

Nicholas scratched his cheek, swallowing. “Not my best quality, I’ll admit.”

“...you can say that again...” Grace brushed her bangs away from her face, still not meeting his gaze. “You had something you wanted to say to me?”

“I, uh...I wasn’t sure you’d be here.”

“What, after you told me not to see you? By text?”

“I didn’t mean that!”

Grace whirled around, days worth of feelings blurting out of her mouth before she could stop them. “You might as well have done! All this time, I thought I’d done something horrible-“

She stopped, having run out of breath as she stared at the fluffy animal in his arms. For a few moments she stared awkwardly, before realising she was holding her breath and letting out a gasp.

“What...is that...?”

Nicholas went redder than before, and gingerly held out the purple dolphin. “I guessed you liked dolphins. You know, from your jumper and the stickers on your notebook, and…well I didn’t know if you liked chocolates. Or flowers. Flowers seemed wrong. I panicked. I don’t know.”

Grace blinked. Nicholas shrank back even further. She reached out and held the fuzzy creature in her arms, relieving him of that duty at least. Although it still took him a while to come up with a response, so she filled in for him.

“I was worried sick all this time. I thought it was my fault. I thought I’d done something wrong.”

No response. Grace swallowed, and reached out to say something just as Nicholas did the same.

“I’m-“

“I saw-“

They stopped, now both red in the face. Nicholas looked back and forth, before blurting out, “You’re right. I’ve been horrible. I’m sorry.”

He shuffled back, his cheeks going ever so slightly red as he mumbled the words out.

“I’ve been trying to figure you out and I didn’t realise I was hurting you, and the whole issues with the dinosaur and the giant electric bug kind of hit me and I...wasn’t sure. And rather than talk to you about it I decided to wait and see, and I shouldn’t have, and actually that hurt you and that’s...that’s really the one thing I didn’t want to do...”

He trailed off, clasping his hands in front of him. Then rearranging them. Then gesturing out.

“Hence the dolphin.”

Grace held him close, not quite sure how to respond. Nicholas waited for a few seconds, before continuing with a softer voice.

“I’d like to get past this. But...I know it doesn’t go like that. If you can’t trust me, I understand. He can...be a farewell gift. But it’d be nice if we can be friends and be on good terms and-“

“No!”

Grace shot out a hand, clutching his own and silencing him.

“No, I...I mean...I’ve been...thinking too hard and I thought things I shouldn’t and...oh god, I don’t know...help me...”

“I...uuuuuuhh...”

“I don’t want to lose you!”

Grace got the words out, and her arm went limp, falling by her side as she looked at the ground.

“I want to make this work as well. I need someone to...someone like you in my life right now.” She shook her head. “No…that came out wrong. I need you.”

She looked to one side, her eyes slightly moist. “I know I’m not the easiest to get along with and I do stupid things, like, daily, but I want to be better. And I want you to see that and I...I just...Nicholas, I-“

The young man stepped forwards, and held his arms around her, holding her close. The girl breathed in, feeling his broad chest against her as he whispered in her ear.

“How about we give it another go? If you’re up for it?”

“Boyfriend and girlfriend? For real?”

“If that’s okay with you.”

For a few seconds Grace held back. Then she dropped the dolphin, and returned the embrace, burying her face in Nicholas’s chest. The two held each other tightly for close to a minute, swaying ever so slightly. Grace leant forwards on tiptoe, and whispered back into Nicholas’s ear.

“Please don’t leave me again...”

The boy closed his eyes, letting out a breath.

“I won’t.”

“No, no, wait, don’t go!”

Aaron let out a gasping breath as he watched the bus pull away from the stop in front of him, and he slumped forwards, planting his palm against the timetable. He didn’t need to look at it to know that the next one back to his home town was a good hour away, and he slammed his fist against the clear plastic.

“Damn you and your selective punctuality!”

Plip. Plop. The young man looked up, staring into the cloud bank above just as the heavens decided to open on his head. He let out several expletives and ran for the nearest cover, ending up on a bench at the edge of a covered market, watching as the water dripped down in front of him. He sighed, checking his watch.

“Aaron?”

The young man looked up as he was joined by a hurried-looking girl, holding her backpack close and keeping one hand on her fluffy hood. After reaching the relative safety, she pulled it back, shaking out her wet pigtails and revealing herself to be Lonnie. She grinned sheepishly, placing a fist on her forehead.

“It said it was gonna rain earlier.”

Aaron smirked. “Did it? I didn’t think to check.”

“I did. I thought the sky was double-bluffing.”

“Well I can’t help your problems.”

Lonnie laughed, and leant back, staring at the grey skies. “I thought you would have gone home yesterday.”

“Eloise and Kai and I had a bit of clearing up to do. I crashed at theirs. I would be on my way home now if it wasn’t for public transport.”

He smiled a little, but the girl didn’t respond instantly. She shuffled awkwardly, holding the strap of her bag.

“Thanks. For helping us. I don’t think I’d be here right now if you hadn’t come when you did.”

Aaron blinked, and gave a soft shake of his head. “Of course I’d come. You needed help.”

Lonnie side-eyed him, “But I thought you wanted out of all of this nonsense. It’s not fair on you.”

“We all have to do things we don’t want to in this game. It doesn’t mean it’s anybody else’s fault. Shit happens.”

Lonnie jumped, and looked down beside her as she saw Velocimon, arms folded and leaning back against the door. He’d had a stint in the rain himself, and it seemed to give him an artificial glow, as if he was on the verge of vanishing at any point. He pressed his snout out, and gave a little nod.

“Besides, it’s exercise for me.”

“Now Velocimon,” said Aaron, leaning into the corner of the alcove to rest his legs a little, “don’t go spreading lies. You were thankful to be out of active service yourself, you know.”

Velocimon pressed his lips together. “At least let me pretend. I have expertise. I like to show off.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about with wanting a quiet life.”

The dinosaur stood aloof, trying very hard not to give anything away on his face. Some of his feathers pricked up, and he peered at Lonnie’s back. “I see you’re not alone.”

Lonnie gently pulled her bag forwards, unzipping it and allowing Axolomon to poke her head out, her fleshy gills flapping back and forth as she gulped air. “It’s raining? Why didn’t you tell me it was raining! I want some fresh air.”

She looked pleadingly up at Lonnie, who rolled her eyes. “You and me both. Go on then.”

She knelt down, and let the little tadpole out, where she waddled a few feet out into the rain, plopping her little fins down on the sodden pavement and making little splashes. Aaron chuckled, and looked over at Lonnie as she crouched at the edge of the alcove.

“She seems to be doing well.”

Lonnie nodded. “She’s more mobile now than she was this morning. I was worried.”

She rested her chin on her hands, frowning.

“Aaron?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it always like this? You face a life-threatening danger and nearly get killed, and then the next day...well...flopping around in puddles?”

Aaron furrowed his brow, and looked over at Velocimon. The dinosaur looked almost offended. “Don’t look at me. I’ve never had fun in my life.”

Aaron scratched the back of his head. “It’s all...very...complicated.”

The girl didn’t seem entirely satisfied, so the young man crouched down beside her, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Where’s this coming from? It looks like something’s bugging you.”

Lonnie smirked. “Something’s always bugging me. It’s no biggie.”

“Maybe, but when you run around with high-powered monsters capable of levelling a building and powered by your innermost wishes, thoughts and insecurities, these things have a tendency of...coming to the surface at bad times.”

Both Lonnie and Velocimon leaned forwards, raising a quizzical eyebrow at the boy, who brushed it away with a wave. “Just saying. Been there, done that.” His face softened. “It’s always better to talk it through. Even just a little bit.”

Lonnie laughed. “Yeah, but you’re a big-time hero. More than I could hope to be. Uncle Ali is as well, and Grace and Jack and...well...you’re all just so cool.”

There was a harsh sound as Velocimon took in a breath through his teeth. “You’re dabbling with heroics, kid. It’s a dangerous place to be. You could end up wearing a bronze helmet and making funny comments all the time.”

Aaron leant back. “Well I can see you’ve been taking lessons.”

“There’s a massive difference. When I make funny comments I make sure they’re actually funny.” He brushed his shoulder, before turning towards Lonnie. “There was nothing glamourous about what we did before. Me in particular. Heroes don’t exist in wartime.”

Lonnie tensed up, and held her wrist. “I can’t believe that. You made a difference for the better, didn’t you? Isn’t that enough?”

Velocimon’s tail rubbed against the wall. For a second he glanced up at his tamer’s chest, then looked away.

“Maybe for the world. For everyone else. But when you’re the one who goes through it, it never really feels like you won anything for yourself.”

“Well, aren’t you just a little ray of sunshine today.”

Aaron cleared his throat, and leant back, planting his hands on the cold stone as he smiled at the despondent Lonnie. “It wasn’t fun. I’ll grant him that. Not a good time at all. But...well, as you said, we come out of it as better people. I may not be the same as I was, but I’m still alive. And I’d like to think somehow I became a better person.” He stuck out his tongue. “And if you really press Mr Grumpysaurus over there I think he’d say the same.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Lonnie held herself tighter. “You really think I could be a hero?”

Aaron tapped her shoulder, and pointed down at Axolomon, who was still paddling around in the accumulated puddles.

“She thinks the world of you. For good reason. You have a bond and that gives you power. And everyone around you; they give you power as well. You take that and you run with it, and you keep running even as the world tries to hurt you. And the more you do for those people, the more people will see you.”

Lonnie sat up, and looked into the boy’s eyes as he grinned. “You’re already a great hero, Lonnie. You just need to prove it to the world. And to yourself.”

The girl clutched her knees tight, grinning into her hood as she stared forwards. Axolomon landed with both feet, and looked up at her, her eyes slightly crossed and her cheeks flushed. Lonnie couldn’t help but giggle, and Axolomon responded in kind, her tail flipping back and forth. She looked up at the sky, and puffed her cheeks out.

“The sun’s coming out.”

Aaron and Velocimon followed her gaze, and Aaron nodded, pushing against the ground. “I suppose that’s our cue.”

Lonnie leapt to her feet as Velocimon helped his partner off the ground, before backing away further into the alley. Lonnie picked up Axolomon, holding her in her arms as she smiled warmly. “Thanks for this. I mean it.”

“Glad I could help in some way.” Aaron raised a thumb as he walked back out towards the street. “Do come and visit, won’t you?”

“Sure thing.”

He wandered back out onto the streets, leaving Lonnie hold her partner. She let out a breath, and turned to see Velocimon still standing there, staring after his partner.

“He’s a good kid. Still a bit ditzy. Gets out of breath easily.” The dinosaur brushed the end of his snout. “But he saved my life. I’ll forever owe him.”

Lonnie shrugged. “That’s life for us, huh.”

“It’s as I said. You don’t get heroes in war. But you get them everywhere else in life.” The dinosaur beamed at her. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. Both of you.”

With a quick flick and a spark at the end of his claws, Velocimon gave them a quick salute, before running off into the alley, shimmering out of sight as he did so.

Alasdair watched as the few spots of rain pattered against the rear windows of the taxi, running into each other and dropping down against the rim. The vehicle turned round, and backed up towards the gates of the digital research facility, before chugging to a stop. The driver turned around, rustling in his pocket in his usual disinterested fashion.

“This close enough for you?”

“Sure thing. I’m being picked up.”

A few minutes later Alasdair wheeled himself off the ramp with the driver’s help, and turned around, looking up at the imposing structure above. A few spots of rain fell down on his head, and the driver tugged at his own sleeve, looking awkward. “You sure you don’t need more of a hand?”

“It’s alright. I’ll take it from here.”

Alasdair wheeled around, and nodded. “Salma. Punctual as always.”

Dr Salma Naseer placed a hand on her hip, barely reacting to Alasdair’s comment. “I should hope so. You do pay me.” She gave the driver a stern look, maintaining it in a distinct ‘ everything’s fine, you can go now’ fashion. The poor man took the hint, but not before Alasdair slipped him a tip. As the taxi drove away, the man twisted himself towards Salma with a wink. “Must you really scare off all my helpers?”

Salma was a tall, and incredibly toned woman in her late forties, with beige skin and dark, straight hair displaying her Libyan heritage, and a stern expression betraying her general approach to life. She tutted, and flicked a tuft of hair away from her face. “This is a secure facility. I will quite happily pick you up myself.”

“I prefer not to travel around in armoured cars, thank you. They make me anxious.” Alasdair twisted himself around, giving the woman a kind smile. “But I could use the hand from here, if you’d be so kind. Thank you.”

Salma rolled her eyes, but she obliged, pushing Alasdair in through the facility door. They walked through corridors and storerooms as they headed towards the main control room. Past archives full of journals about digital incursions, dating back many years. Samples of fallen data rescued from past battles. It had been a hastily-built structure at the time, but Alasdair had put his all into ensuring it was up to the task. As they got deeper, it grew oppressive, the natural light from the skylights giving way to a dull, fluorescent hum. Even Alasdair’s jovial attitude faded away, and he gripped the arms of his wheelchair tightly.

“I take it you all got my reports about the other night.”

Salma nodded. “I wish we could offer any help with them, but it’s all fairly impenetrable for us.”

“I’d appreciate it if you could look into it further.” Alasdair looked aside, seeing his face reflected in the walls. “The tamers’ lives could be at stake.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “You must understand we’re not linguists.”

“Of course. But still...”

Salma sighed. “We’ll do what we can. But we’ve been slightly busy ourselves...”

The main door slid open, and Salma rolled Alasdair into the main control room, where he took over. The room was filled with monitors and PCs and several instruments and indicators, all seemingly working in overtime as they tried to process dozens of inputs at once. A large LCD screen hung from one wall, displaying row after row of new data, with many of the numbers flashing a harsh red.

Alasdair wheeled himself over to the main desk, and looked out the polythene window into the courtyard beyond. He never could quite get used to the sight beyond; the reason for the whole facility. Suspended in the centre of all the wires and sensors and thin plastic hung the first gate between the human world and the digital world, still fully open even after four whole years. It spun slowly, suspended in a large metal arch and intertwined with a thin gauze, which occasionally pulsed as if to sedate its energy. They had tried to make a full barrier, once, but any kind of cage had just ended up sucked away into the void beyond. At least the current setup seemed to do the job, as the portal simply hung there; a constant, if sinister presence. Not releasing anything. Not causing harm. But certainly not going away anytime soon.

There came a rustling from Alasdair’s right, followed by a loud bang and an exclamation of “Shit...” Alasdair tilted sideways as he watched a scrubbish-looking man with a man-bun, goatee and a highly sarcastic T-shirt wriggle out backwards from beneath a desk, poking his head up hopefully.

“Did that work?”

A chair rolled round, revealing a woman in her late fifties, with half-moon glasses and dyed red hair, and a knitted cardigan carrying a distinct ‘jumble sale clearance rack’ aesthetic. She drummed her fingers on the desk, shaking her head. “Have you tried plugging it into the right port?”

“That is the right port, Perez. I think we’ve fried the sensor.”

“What, again? We just bought it yesterday.”

“Stick it on the budget.”

“Ahem.”

The two jumped as they looked over at Alasdair. Or more specifically behind him, where one of Salma’s already frayed nerves had snapped in an almost audible fashion.

“Perez, Dominic, I hope you two aren’t breaking my stuff again!”

The two cybernetics engineers looked at one another, then raised their hands in unison. “It was an accident! We’re sorry!”

A vein popped out on Salma’s forehead, but Alasdair raised a palm, shaking his head. “It can be replaced. That’s why we have spares.” His face turned serious. “How’s it all looking?”

Perez leant back, biting down on one knuckle as she looked over at the monitor. “As well as can be expected, given...well, given everything. The portal is stable, and we’ve had no breaches...”

Alasdair rested an elbow on the desk. “...I’m sensing there’s a ‘but’ coming...”

Dominic sat back, folding his arms. “We’re trying to keep up. But the readings are getting harder to figure out. Something rough’s going on at the digital world end, and it’s only getting more frantic.”

“Even with all this?”

“It’s not a matter of the equipment. The digital world itself is just sending out more and more chaos. We can’t keep up.”

Salma walked around, and placed a palm on one of her server racks. “It’s been like this for two weeks now, Alasdair. We may be in the clear at the moment, but I don’t know how long this’ll last.”

The man rolled back slightly, holding his chin. “If the digital world is getting more distorted, it would explain the increased number of secondary portals opening up.” He looked up, concern on his face. “I take it we still don’t have a way to suppress the damage from our side? Or at least slow it down.”

The forlorn expressions on Perez and Dominic’s faces said it all. Alasdair held his hands in front of his face, breathing out heavily.

“What to do, what to do...”

Perez clasped her hands in front of her. “We, uh...there’s something else.”

Alasdair looked up, all his seventy years evident on his face as he watched Perez tap away at her machine. He rolled forwards, staring at the screen as it came up with a few lines of fluid shapes. They morphed, first into digicode, then binary, then plain English, harsh green on the black background. Alasdair took in a breath, and turned towards Perez.

“When was this?”

“It came through this morning.” She waved her hands. “We didn’t have to go looking for it either; it just bypassed all the protocols and came straight onto the main mimic.”

Salma leaned over, clutching her knees. “It was sent directly to us. They want us to know.”

“They can’t do this now...not after...now of all times...”

Alasdair shook his head muttering under his breath, “Oh, no, no no no...this is bad...this is very, very bad.”

It may have been. But it wasn’t going away. The four adults could only stare at the blinking screen, as the single message flashed up repeatedly in front of their eyes. It hung below a counter, which was steadily ticking its way down. Just over twenty-seven days.

The rain pounded against the windows outside as the four adults stared at the blinking message below, constant and unmoving.

We are coming to stop this.