“Are you okay?”

Alasdair flinched, and pulled back into focus, listening to the dull drumming of the rain on the roof as he sat across from Carrie McMillan. She leant forwards, holding her hands around the piping hot mug of coffee.

“You seemed out of it for a while.”

Alasdair pulled his own drink closer, holding it to his chest. “I’ve had a lot on my mind as of late. And a lot of late nights.”

Carrie’s incredulous expression told him everything he needed to know. He nodded to the outside window, where there was a glow from the garage light where Lonnie and the newly re-evolved Dendromon were undertaking some dark and unknown deeds.

“How much has she told you?”

Carrie leant an elbow on the table, twirling a teaspoon around in the cup. “As much as she feels I need to know. But we saw it on the news anyway. Well...part of it.”

Alasdair felt a sinking feeling in his chest; he’d seen the report as well. “How does she seem? You know...several people died because of this. I’m worried about how she’s taking it.”

Carrie held her palms up. “I couldn’t say. You know her. Impenetrable. She could be taking it well or she could be screaming inside; I don’t know and I’m her own mother and it just...drives me up the wall.”

Her face scrunched up, and she leant down on the table, pressing her face against the wood as she stared out the window. “I can’t cope with this. I wish I could do something.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” said Alasdair in a reassuring tone, as he slowly wheeled himself around towards her. “She already thinks the world of you. You know that, right?”

Carrie sat up, and turned towards Alasdair, her expression on the verge of breaking apart. Then it went completely, and she knelt down beside him, tears streaking down the lines in her face.

“It’s not enough. It was never enough. I...I tried so hard, but...she’d already been through more shit than she ever needed to...with her stepfather...I thought we were past all that but then this comes along and...oh my god, Ali, I’ve failed her at every step of the way..."

She broke down again, and Alasdair held her head on his lap, gently rubbing her shoulders like he’d done so many times before. Back when she was just a child herself, with her own mother watching on. It was hard to suppress his own guilt, as if he was her own father failing to protect her from the world. But as always, he remained sitting up straight. There were times when you needed to be a pillar for someone you loved. No matter what your own demons were doing.

He held her for several minutes, as her tears fell freely, gently holding her and telling her it would be alright. Eventually they pulled apart, and she rubbed her eyes, laughing bitterly.

“Sorry. I think I’m doing okay and then something hits me from out of nowhere and it all turns into a right mess.”

“There’s no need to apologise for being human.” Alasdair leant forwards and kissed her on the cheek, before she stood up. “If none of us were able to cry on someone’s shoulder then we’d all be in trouble.”

She laughed, resting a hand on the table as she stared out the window. “This family is cursed, I tell you. Cursed.” Her hand clenched up. “Mammy warned me this would happen. It’s all part of someone’s messed-up plan. Even Lonnie. I bet this was always meant to happen.”

Alasdair didn’t respond. He simply stared out the window, watching the dim flickering lights coming from the garage. After a few seconds he caught Carrie staring at him, bringing him to with a wave.

“Y’know...you can have a nap here if that’s what you need.”

Alasdair rubbed beneath his chin. “I think...I need to have a talk with your daughter. If you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead.” Carrie tilted to one side, staring outside the wet window with a distant expression. There was a little flash from inside the garage, followed by the sound of something falling on the floor. Carrie snorted. “I think she needs to have a talk as well.”

Alasdair rolled himself to the back door, and held his hand out. He paused, gently closing his palm around the handle. He felt sick. Everything was telling him to stop, to walk away, to leave her in peace. He could still see Carrie’s face in his mind, streaked with tears and blaming herself.

“Why...why does it still have to be you...after everything I’ve done to avoid it...?”

There was a crash of distant thunder from outside, and he saw his own face reflected in the window. Dark circles beneath his eyes, and a faced lined from many years of trials of his own. He knew how it felt to be thrust into a world you didn’t want. How much he’d yearned to escape.

“Why wouldn’t you run away from this? Save yourself?”

The countdown flashed in his vision, yanking him back to the present. He pressed his teeth together, and held the handle down.

“No. It’s going to be different this time.”

Gently he rolled himself down the ramp and out towards the old garage; a slightly dilapidated building which had once held motorbikes and DIY projects, but now stood empty; a hollow shell of painful memories for everybody. Alasdair rolled himself under the lip of the door, his upper body already soaked through. Lonnie looked in his direction, and waved, giving a lopsided grin. He returned the favour.

“How’s it going?”

There was a rustling from between a series of old appliances, and Dendromon sat up, looking dazed herself. Her body didn’t seem entirely corporeal; perhaps a side-effect of her recent evolution, or perhaps just her general life amongst the McMillans. Still, she gave a thumbs up, slurring her words.

“We’re going fine. Great. No problems. We’ll be back to normal in no time.”

Alasdair’s face sagged, and he peered at Lonnie. The girl wasn’t in good shape either; hair split and ragged, and eyes heavy from lack of sleep and too much work. She swayed, and planted a palm on one wall to steady herself.

“We managed to evolve once. I’m trying to make it work better. Dendromon can’t evolve to Champion in here but we can still work on control. I can get better. I can lead everyone like I need to-“

Her foot slipped again, and she slammed into the wall with a crash, only just barely managing to stay standing. She pulled herself up again, staring at Alasdair with half-awake eyes.

“I’m not falling over that much. I promise.”

For a moment, Alasdair looked down at the ground, not wanting to make eye-contact. But he forced himself to face her, looking the girl in the eyes. The same eyes greeted him that always did. The same wild enthusiasm, and even wilder hair. Those eyes glowing with hope. He could hear her voice now; countering every one of his warnings and concerns with the same blind response. It was infuriating. And yet still wonderful.

“You haven’t changed one bit.”

“What was that?”

“Listen...about what you said the other day, about you getting stronger-“

Lonnie waved her palms, smiling incessantly. “Oh, don’t worry about that, I know you’re busy and I don’t want to bother you.”

“Lonnie-“

“Please let me do this, Uncle Ali. For the town. For everyone else. I need...I need to be strong. Stronger than I am now.” She fumbled in her pocket and held out her D-SEND. “I’m getting the hang of it. I can make this work.”

“Well, you’re not going to make it work in this state. I can tell you that now.” He reached out, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You win. Let me help you become the strongest you can be.”

“You...I...really?”

“Get some proper rest tonight, both of you. I’ll come and pick you up tomorrow.”

Lonnie blinked. “Where are we going?”

Alasdair placed a finger to his nose, tapping it twice. “If you’re going to learn to control your power better, you’re going to need a bit more experience and a lot more space. And to get that, we’re going to need to break a few rules."

Grace sat down on one side of her bed, in a dressing gown and nightclothes, running a brush slowly through her hair. It was very much the envy of her college friends, as for the longest time she was the only person in her class who had managed to pull off hair of this length without it getting all rough at the ends. Sure, it needed some attention now and then, but she was secretly pleased with it.

There was a snuffle behind her as Vulpimon turned in her sleep, her eyes half-opening for the briefest of seconds. She was still lethargic after the whole incident with Dramatismon, and had been hobbling for the best part of a week, although that was finally going away. Grace gave her a quick side glance, before resuming with the task at hand

She was feeling refreshed. More than she expected to. The past two nights she’d gone out with Nicholas, and both times had been...well...nice.

Okay, probably not a roaring success, though she wasn’t exactly sure what that would look like. Aside from the obvious outcome, and honestly neither of them had seemed keen to rush anything in that regard. But there had been no Digimon interruptions, no running off to chase some lost frightened critter, and a greatly decreased number of awkward reserved exchanges. It had all been nice. Really nice. Or even...yeah, maybe just nice.

She paused, and placed her brush down beside her, fiddling with the hem of her dressing gown. She had to admit, it didn’t feel quite real, almost as if she’d been released from a hostage situation. Just having a normal, uneventful boyfriend and doing normal uneventful things. It had been liberating. Maybe it was ‘just nice’. But she’d loved it all the same.

Grace slapped the sides of her cheeks, shaking her head a little. She was overthinking things again. She was going to stop that, no matter what it took. Discarding the brush, she stood up and opened up her wardrobe, flicking through her outfits. It didn’t look like it was going to be too cold tomorrow, so being a Saturday she and Nicholas had agreed to meet up down by the seafront. Possibly getting lunch somewhere, possibly doing minigolf, or possibly heading to the arcade. It was a day full of infinite possibilities and absolutely zero commitments. The best kind of day.

As she held a couple of jackets against herself, there came a gentle knock at the door, startling her. “Come in.”

Jack walked in slowly, rubbing his eyes as his post-bath hair stood up even more than usual. He looked at the two garments, before pointing.

“I prefer that one.”

“What?”

“Just thought I’d chip in, before you asked me.” The boy grinned cheekily as he shrugged his arms dramatically. “I genuinely don’t know.”

Grace puffed her cheeks out, and threw the boy’s preferred option back in the cupboard. He placed his thumbs in his pockets. “You off out again tomorrow? How’s it going?”

“Good. Really good, actually.”

“Cool.”

Grace sat down, half-expecting something to follow up. She couldn’t stop herself from looking up in a funny way when it didn’t come, watching as he slid his foot back and forth across the floor. He caught her expression, and shook his head.

“I mean it, really, it’s cool. I’m glad it’s finally working out. I was worried.” He looked aside. “I was worried about a lot, actually. Y’know, with that...that.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I promise. I’ve got a handle on things.”

The boy didn’t look convinced, leading Grace to think she might need to work on her persuasion tactics. Still, he made no further comments on the matter, going back to kicking the floor. She couldn’t stop herself from looking at his right leg, and the significantly larger foam sleeve that was wrapped around it.

“How’s your knee?”

“...fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“My knee’s fine, Grace.”

The boy stopped kicking, looking up at her. “I...I just...I was worried. Really worried, after the battle and what Dramatismon said and everything. And I thought you and me could, like...I dunno, vent to each other like before and it would be alright, but...” He shook his head. “I dunno, it was a stupid idea, I didn’t think this through at all.”

The girl leant forwards, clasping her hands together. “You can always talk to me, Jack. I know the kind of things you go through.”

“...yeah, I know.”

“Dramatismon hit you hard as well. And after the whole Lyra thing.”

“Well, y’know.” The boy raised his thumb. “I’m still standing, alright?”

Grace sat there, locking eyes with her brother for a good minute. Eventually she broke away. “Well...do tell me if it really does all get too much.”

“Sure thing.”

He turned, but she reached out, holding his hand. “I’m serious. You will do that, right? You’re my brother.”

Jack smiled in a friendly manner. “Of course I would. I love you.”

He gently closed the door behind him, leaving the girl staring at the varnished wood. She let out a sigh, and fell backwards against the bed, running her hands down her cheeks.

“Don’t you start picking up my bad habits...”

She heard his footsteps heading down the hallway, and for a moment toyed with chasing after him. But then she heard his bedroom door close, and the lock turn. Vulpimon’s ear twitched in the corner, and she rolled slightly sideways. Grace held her jacket close to her, and stared up at the ceiling, her mind fuzzy.

“Everything’s gonna be just fine...”

Just across the hallway, Jack leant back against his bedroom door, his hand still on the lock. The clock on his wall ticked, and there was slight ambient fuzz from his computer, the screensaver bouncing all over the place. He muttered under his breath, his eyes only half-open.

“...you don’t get it...”

Reynarimon sauntered through the streets with a spring in his step, the clouds of smoke dispersing behind him as he puffed away. He twisted his fingers, nodding in time with the music that blasted through his headphones. The smoke danced along beside him, following his gestures as he twisted sideways, slipping through a pair of broken iron gates. A single building lay beyond; an old workshop with a rusted sign, long since declared derelict. Reynarimon paid it no heed, humming the tune to himself as he slid around the back and cheerfully let himself in.

“Evening, all.”

Lyra turned towards him, and scowled, leant up against a pillar with her arms folded. “Oh wonderful, look what the dumpster fox dragged in.”

“I’m hurt, truly and utterly,” replied Reynarimon in a dull monotone, as he pulled out his earphones and wrapped them gently around his fingers. “I was listening to one of your web singles and all.”

“What do you think?”

“You’ve done better.”

Lyra narrowed her eyes, and pulled her violin case further over her shoulder. Reynarimon waited for her bitter response, but when it didn’t come he just started wandering around the workshop, making considering noises at the various piles of stuff. It was nearly all electronics; series of phones, music players, electronic keys, along with a few larger items like hoovers, TVs and even a couple of electric scooters. On one side of the workshop, at least. Near the doors lay a pile of very odd contraptions; mechanised hands, cannons ripped from turrets, strange visors and chestpieces and all manner of firearms. Reynarimon didn’t have to poke too hard to know they were remnants of his own kind, having been ‘rescued’ from all manner of Digimon in the local area. Mostly already dead. Mostly.

There was a little area of light in one corner, where a couple of Kokuwamon were hunched over a series of wires and circuit boards, poking and prodding them as they separated the parts out into little categories, and melding the digital parts together with the physical ones with a deftness and dexterity unbecoming of their blocky shapes. Reynarimon skipped over, and leant over, holding his pipe out the side of his mask.

“Well what do we have here? Another little project?”

One of the Kokuwamon looked up, and beeped happily, holding out a little electronic widget that gave off incessant beeps. Reynarimon picked it up, and held it in his hand, making impressed murmurs.

“We are so lucky to have such diligent workers as you with us, we really are.”

The little machine beamed, letting off little sparks between his antenna.

“I don’t like this one though. Another.”

Reynarimon crushed the little gadget in his hand, and dropped it into a pile of wires on the ground. The Kokuwamon beeped sadly, and gently scraped the pieces back into his claws, as Lyra walked up.

“You shouldn’t demoralize them like that. It’s not fair.”

“Come now, think of it as a development opportunity.”

“You don’t pay them.”

“They’re Digimon. They don’t need paying.”

Lyra rolled her eyes. “You seem happy enough with your own salary.”

“That’s different. I’m an important asset. As are you, so I’m told.” Reynarimon sauntered a little closer, his mask looking incessantly smug on his childlike frame. He stared up at her, puffing a cloud of smoke out to one side.

“Though a little bird told me somebody hasn’t been delivering anywhere near what she’s supposed to.”

Lyra looked uncomfortable for a second, but there was suddenly a flapping of wings and Tsurumon landed behind her in a millisecond. He folded his wings up, his beady eyes staring down at Reynarimon through the gloom.

“Here’s a big bird telling you to back off a little, Reynarimon.”

Reynarimon gave a few patronising tuts, swaying backwards as he shook the ash from his pipe. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I’ve been doing my bit. There’s really no excuse for poor performance.”

“Why you-“

“That’s enough.”

There was a loud clack of metal on metal. The two pulled back, and turned to one side, watching as a figure rose from a makeshift seat, one level above. The figure pushed himself up on the handle of a long, slightly curved sword, still sheathed and adorned with red ribbons.

He walked forwards briskly, making clop-clop sounds on the metal floor with wooden geta sandals. As he strode into the dim light, it illuminated taloned feet clutched over those sandals, followed by baggy trousers and a billowing sleeveless gown with the chest open. The Digimon’s upper body was humanoid and highly toned, with pale grey skin adorned with red and blue tattoos, and large, glossy-black wings protruding from his back. Long black braids hung backwards from his crested head, and his face was entirely avian, with a broad beak powerful enough to break stone, and two beady yellow eyes.

The bird-man swung his sword around and rested it over his back, cracking his knuckles as he looked between the two.

“Progress.”

“Certainly, Rhyncomon,” smarmed Reynarimon, lowering himself to the floor. An unnecessary gesture, as Rhyncomon already stood a good seven feet tall. Reynarimon stood up again, tapping his pipe.

“Your assets appear to be going down well with your special clients. I can’t say as much for the supply chain. Yethmon and his bunch have found themselves being driven off by gangs of humans more often than not recently.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“May I have your permission to give them some incentive?”

Rhyncomon’s eyes glinted. “You do not need my permission to do what I already expect of you.”

Reynarimon nodded courteously, before standing back as Rhyncomon turned towards Lyra. She looked to one side, her face unimpressed as usual. But her hand tightened around the strap of her violin case, the knuckles turning white. Rhyncomon tapped his foot, waiting for her to speak.

“I’ve done my work,” she said finally, gesturing behind Rhyncomon to a pile of boxes. “They’re all industrial-grade gear, as you asked for.”

The bird-man didn’t even look at them. He just kept tapping his foot. Tsurumon ruffled his own feathers a little, splaying his feet.

“You were late.”

“It was only a day.”

“I said you were late.”

Lyra held her wrist, looking down. “There were issues.”

“What issues?”

“You told me you didn’t want excuses.”

“That’s right, and therefore you know I expect compliance. So tell me what the issues are, since they are clearly very important in order for you to be late.”

Lyra looked into his good eye, still defiant. “You know about that Dramatismon incident, right? I got caught up in that. It was out of my control.”

“Unforeseeable, I’ll grant you. And yet unacceptable. As soon as Tsurumon found you, that should have been it. Why wasn’t it?”

Lyra glared sideways at Reynarimon, who tapped his fingers together, feigning innocence and failing miserably. Rhyncomon slammed his foot down with a loud clack.

“I’m asking you. Look at me, not him.”

“It was my own choice,” piped up Tsurumon, drawing Rhyncomon’s ire. “Call it a favour to one of them.”

Rhyncomon narrowed his eyes at the two. “You are not in the position to give out favours.” He turned to Lyra. “And you, you are not to get distracted with those other humans.”

“I wasn’t planning on it-”

Clack

Rhyncomon took a step forwards, silencing her as he towered over her. “That’s an instruction. You stay away from them. You don’t talk to them, you don’t contact them, and if you come across one of them and they get in your way then you get rid of them. Permanently.” He pointed out with a harsh talon, first at the woman’s legs, then her forehead.

“If not here, then here. You have the abilities. There are no excuses. Am I clear?”

Lyra’s lips remained shut. Rhyncomon rolled his shoulder, glancing down at Tsurumon. The crane shuffled.

“Tsurumon, am I speaking too quietly?”

Lyra flinched. Beside her, the crane tilted his head slightly. “Rhyncomon, with respect, you know very well how practical humans can be. They don’t know about you; they’ve only seen Lyra and myself. If...if we had words then we can build new connections that way. That would be useful to you.”

Tsurumon looked up, just in time to see the glimmer in the magpie’s eyes. Only for a second; a twinge of temptation. Then it vanished, and the magpie replied.

“You think I don’t know that humans are useful contacts? They’re also wily, and unpredictable, and prone to distractions.” He glanced across at Lyra, who hadn’t moved from her position. “One is suitable enough. And I will continue to compensate you for your troubles, so long as you do as I say. So I’ll ask again; am I clear, Lyra?”

Lyra clutched her violin closely, pulling at the strap. “What was the question again?”

“Lyra-“

Tsurumon was blocked as Rhyncomon took a step forwards, his sandals banging against the metal floor. The sound echoed away, joined only by the faint sound of Reynarimon’s hushed “ooooooooh...”

Rhyncomon payed it no heed; he stood to his full height, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“We have a contract. Do your job. And don’t get involved with those others. Get rid of them by force if you have to. No distractions.”

Lyra’s shoulders tightened, and she swallowed.

“Sure. Of course.”

She pulled her violin closer to her, but the bird-man saw and reached out, grabbing the end before she could stop him.

“I said no distractions.”

He yanked it, but the girl tensed, pulling it away from his grip as her facade broke, screaming in his face. “No! Leave it alone!”

Rhyncomon’s eyes flashed, and in a single movement he’d pulled his arm back, the flat of his sword sheath already swinging towards the woman’s head. But there was a flash of white and suddenly Tsurumon was stood there, holding up a crumpled wing and keeping the Digimon’s arm at bay. He glowered up at Rhyncomon, and hissed with a venomous voice.

“Don’t you dare touch her.”

Rhyncomon maintained the pressure, half-watching the look in the crane’s eyes, and half Lyra’s free hand as she went for her digivice. There was a sigh, and Reynarimon gingerly reached out and placed a paw on Rhyncomon’s muscular forearm, speaking with a tone so sickly-sweet it could curdle vinegar.

“Come now, come now, we have enough to do without any unnecessary shouting matches, wouldn’t you agree?”

Rhyncomon didn’t respond. But he slowly released the pressure, standing to his full height and clacking his sandal. He reached into his gown and threw a scrap of paper at Lyra, which she caught in one hand.

“I’ve spoken with our clients. I’ve arranged for an accident at the arcade. I expect to see the equipment by ten p.m. tomorrow.”

He strode back, his sandals making a loud noise against the floor. Lyra and Tsurumon remained together as Reynarimon gave a little gesture with his pipe.

“It’s quiet out now. Might be a good idea to have a little scope of the area.”

Lyra glared at him, her face staying completely straight. “Thank you for looking after my health,” she said monotonously.

The fox didn’t reply. He just stepped out of the way of the door, allowing the two to exit. The door closed with a bang, and Reynarimon whistled, before looking up at Rhyncomon, who was sat back in his original position.

“Those humans do have a nasty habit of getting into other human’s heads, you know.”

“Reynarimon?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t need your advice.”

The little fox gave a quick bow, before leaving himself, reinserting his earphones as he did so.

Lyra watched as Reynarimon danced off into the night, and waited for him to gain some distance, as she sat over Tsurumon, looking at his crumpled wing, with the data beneath shimmering.

“I’m fine, honestly I am.”

“Quiet. Let me do this.”

The crane relented, holding his wing out as Lyra pulled the digivice across it. The paper fluttered, straightening out and leaving only the faintest of creases. Although if one was to run their hand over it, they’d still feel them. Tsurumon certainly did.

“I’ve warned you before; don’t antagonise him like that.”

“I’m a big girl now; he can deal with it.”

“He very nearly tried to deal with it permanently back then.”

“You shouldn’t get in the way. I’m the one who shouts at him.”

The crane narrowed his eyes. “I won’t stand for the way it when he treats you like that. Sorry. I die first. End of story.”

Gently, Tsurumon pulled his wing away, and held it against his body. “What’s the matter? You’ve been so unsettled of late.”

The woman snorted. “It’s been an unsettling few weeks.”

“Is it about the other tamers?”

Lyra’s eyelids flickered, and she looked away. But Tsurumon caught it, and ducked down, pulling in close and lowering his voice to a whisper.

“You don’t need to feel guilty, you know. We reached our limit.”

“Liar.”

“Lyra, I...you...they’re-“

“Enough already!”

She pulled her arms in, and rubbed beneath her eyes. “I get it, you trust them. If you didn’t you wouldn’t have found me. I’m not bothered; care about them all you want.”

“Do you?”

Lyra smirked, shaking her head. But there was no response. She looked up, and saw Tsurumon’s pointed brown eyes staring into her own.

“Do you care about them?”

A face. Bright brown eyes behind round glasses, beaming in wonder, like she’d met her hero for the first time.

The sudden mental image caught Lyra off guard, and her shoulders twitched. A reply was catching in her throat, and it manifested in a sudden hacking fit. Tsurumon started, and bent down, holding a wing against her back.

“Lyra? Are you okay?”

“I’m fff....ffine...”

She coughed for a good few seconds, before pulling her hands away and speaking in a rasped manner.

“...just been feeling a bit sick...”

Tsurumon looked at her hands, shaking as they gently straightened his body out. With a concerned glance he caught sight of her gaunt face in the light of the digivice, and the haggard look in her eyes. But she caught him staring and looked the other way.

“You heard Rhyncomon. We need to prepare.”

“Lyra, please, we don’t have to-“

“Let’s go.”

She ran off into the night before he could say another word. With a heavy weight on his heart, he took to the sky, and shaking only ever so slightly, followed her into the gloom.

Unbeknownst to them both, a shadow sat on the rooftop above them, his sword lying at an angle across his lap. Rhyncomon watched as they ran off, with a rush of light and a flapping of great papery wings signalling their departure.

He held the bridge of his beak, and let out a long, exasperated sigh.

Salma raised an eyebrow as she stared down at Alasdair’s sheepish grin, before glancing back up at Lonnie who was making much the same expression as him. There was a distinct lack of conversation happening, so Alasdair took it upon himself to fill in.

“I promise we won’t break anything.”

Salma let out a breath, her face fixed in an expression of utter disdain. “You do realise this is breaking so many rules, including ones which you wrote yourself, right?”

“I do indeed.”

“If I said no, are you going to pull rank on me and do it anyway?”

Alasdair rubbed behind his head. “I mean...yes, but...I’d prefer to have your approval.”

“I do not approve in the slightest.”

“Your blessing, then?”

“If you’re asking for my personal opinion on the matter, then I think it is a reckless misuse of your responsibility and I can’t believe you would even think it is a suitable thing to do.”

“So you’re going to keep this to yourself then?”

“Evidently I am,” replied Salma in a harsh monotone. She stepped aside, glaring up at Lonnie with such venom that the girl could feel her spine clench. It took her a few seconds to realise that the clenching was actually Dendromon, who was clutching her back and mumbling something about the scary harpy lady.

Salma didn’t seem bothered by the reaction, taking the opportunity to lean in closer as Lonnie pushed Alasdair past her.

“Break so much as a lightbulb and I will pull your fingers off and throw both you and your frog through the portal.”

The girl quailed, and hurried past as the door shut behind her. Alasdair could feel the tension emanating from behind him, and reached up to tap the girl’s palm. “You don’t need to worry. It’s me she’s mad at.”

Lonnie stared straight ahead as if she’d just seen the eyes of madness. “She...wouldn’t really do what she said, would she?”

“Of course not.” Alasdair scratched his cheek. “She’d just charge me quadruple for the damages. So...if we can try not to break anything too expensive that would be great. Take a right here.”

Lonnie obliged, biting down on her lip. “You don’t have to do this for us. It seems like it’s quite a hassle for you.”

“Perhaps, but it’s a safer place than trying to do it anywhere outside. This place is secured, and fairly robust.”

Dendromon stared around in awe, her mouth wide open. “You had all this stuff lying around? Why are you leaving us to play vigilante?”

Alasdair smiled down at her. “Please don’t misunderstand; this place is to study the digital incursions rather than contain them. Or rather, we thought holding the main portal closed would be enough to contain anything, but it’s had other effects which are rather complicated and...

He popped his lips. “...you know what? We’ll sort that out when we come to it.”

Lonnie looked down at Alasdair, puffing one cheek out. She knew he’d been involved in this facility, but it was still jarring to see him acting so nonchalant about something which still felt so alien. Even after her time with Dendromon, the whole issue about the digital incursions and the digital world seemed way above her station.

And yet, as they walked past the main control room, she could feel the presence calling out to her, even though she couldn’t see it. Something tugging at her insides, beckoning her to come through. Glancing down at Dendromon she could see the salamander going through the same thing, as the salamander held the bunch of flowers nervously in her arms.

It seemed they were completely wrapped up in the whole ordeal now, whether they were ready for it or not.

“This place should do the trick.”

Alasdair reached out with a card and let the two of them into a large, open chamber, with light streaming in from a couple of skylights high above. The whole space was empty, with a series of triangles making up the walls, and only two other doors. Dendromon waddled forwards, and whistled, taking in the whole space.

“How come humans always have the most fun buildings? Where’s our cool architecture?”

Alasdair leant back. “I’m glad you like it, because I want it to stay spotless for the sake of my bank account.”

“I, uh...what?”

The man beckoned with one hand, smiling sweetly. “Pass me the flowers and go stand in the middle. You too, Lonnie.”

He wheeled himself back into the corner as the two convened together in the middle, talking as he did so. “This room was built up when we first put up the facility, and we had lost Digimon wandering around inside. The chamber around the portal is the same structure; the shape is designed to withstand attacks from even quite powerful Digimon. But this room itself was a prototype. If you fire in the wrong place you are liable to cause significant damage to large parts of the facility.”

Lonnie’s eyes widened as she saw her mentor backing away. “I’m not so sure about this...”

“Good. That’s the mindset where you want to start.”

“No, I mean...after the last time we tried to evolve, you really want to be in here with us?”

The man drummed his fingers on his knees. “It’s been a long while since I’ve stood beside a partner of my own. I even fought together with him as one warrior, one entity. It’s upsetting, it’s confusing, but it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. And the bond you share determines the power you can wield.” He raised a hand, and pointed. “Dendromon, you look after her, alright? No matter what, keep her in the back of your mind. Keep her close, and keep her safe.”

Dendromon let in a breath, but gave a salute, as Lonnie gingerly held out her D-SEND. She looked at Alasdair one last time, but he was steadfast. He nodded. Do it now.

“Dendromon, Soul Accelerate!”

For a moment nothing seemed to happen. A few sparks burst from the screen, then it faded. Dendromon looked down at herself, then up at her partner, who was holding the device out with a trembling hand. Alasdair’s voice called out from the side again.

“Open your eyes, Lonnie!”

The girl did so, and another burst of sparks flew out from her device. She looked sideways at Alasdair, her face so tense it felt like her head was about to burst. He held his arm out wide.

“They’re all there, Lonnie. They’re all waiting for you. But it has to be you to step forwards. You want to be a hero?”

“...of course...”

“Then do it! Take the step! Go!”

“Evolution ACTIVATE!”

The energy exploded from the end of the D-SEND, looping around and slamming into Dendromon. She arched her back, and took several steps back, white light exploding from her eyes and mouth as her skin and flesh blew apart like before. She fell to one knee, but held herself upright, her arms and legs extending and her body swelling, letting off vast spikes of fire and energy. Then it dissipated, and she pushed herself up, the last of the flames lapping out of the side of her mouth.

“ANDRIAMON!”

Her voice echoed around the chamber, causing the panels to shake and the structure to groan. Lonnie gritted her teeth, standing beside her partner even as she felt the heat emanating off the amphibian’s skin. Alasdair just clasped his hands together, resting them on his chin.

“And that’s the first step...”

Lonnie glanced up nervously at her partner, swaying from one foot to the other as she gripped her D-SEND tightly.

“You okay? It still feels slightly weird.”

Andriamon let out a harsh bark of a laugh, and Lonnie jumped as the frog lurched to one side, her palms steaming against the floor and her pupils vibrating in their sockets. Lonnie turned around, staring at Alasdair.

“This is what it was like last time! I don’t know what’s gone wrong!”

“Nothing’s gone wrong. She’s doing exactly what you’re asking of her.”

“I haven’t asked her to do anything-“

Alasdair reached down and began to wheel himself forwards, much to Lonnie’s concern. “You need to think about it differently. It’s not so straightforward as you instructing her. You are her. She uses your own power, your own thoughts and emotions. So if you’re overwhelmed by it all, then so is she.”

“I don’t think I can do this. You probably shouldn’t get any closer-“

Andriamon’s head swung sideways and she bounded forwards, planting her hands on the ground and roaring at Alasdair, who gently wheeled to a stop. She pushed herself back, shaking her head as a gurgling voice came from her throat.

“It’s...not...safe...”

“You don’t want to hurt anyone, do you?”

Another shake of the head. Lonnie edged forwards, placing herself between the amphibian and her mentor, concern still evident on her face.

“We just need time, Uncle Ali. Time to get through this.”

Alasdair leant back. “You can feel it, right? The power coursing through both of you? A desperate desire to make a difference, and to fix things. That’s what’s brought this about. You have everything you need; you just need to be able to apply it.”

Lonnie clenched her fist. “But what if we get it wrong-“

“Everybody gets it wrong. Most of the time.”

“But I-“

“You believe in the future, don’t you?”

Alasdair reached out, and placed a hand over the girl’s shoulder, as Andriamon looked on nervously. Lonnie bit her lip, making sure to look into Alasdair’s eyes as he continued.

“You believe everything will be alright. That’s admirable. It gives you the drive and makes you the wonderful person I know you are. But you’re big enough now to know you need to work for it. Things will always go wrong, people will always stand against you, and you keep going up against odds which just feel impossible...”

Lonnie’s shoulders tensed, and she held her hand over Alasdair’s. “Mm-hm...”

“It’s one thing to hope things will turn out alright. It’s another thing to make them. To push yourself forwards no matter the odds, and find the turnaround come what may. That’s why you’re here now, isn’t it?”

Lonnie took in a breath, as the corners of her mouth turned up.

“Everything’ll turn out alright. And if it isn’t, then by god I’m gonna make it turn out alright.”

“That’s my girl.”

Alasdair gently wheeled himself back as Lonnie stood by her partner, taking deep breaths as her partner sat back beside her. Alasdair reached the wall, and took a contemplative look at one of the panels, before backing off a few metres and pointing. “You see this triangle here, with the scorch marks?”

“Yeah?”

“I want you to hit it in the middle, and nothing around. We want accuracy, and control of firepower.”

Lonnie glanced up at Andriamon, who shook her head vigorously. Lonnie just patted her on the arm, and gave Alasdair a thumbs-up.

“No problem! But please move back if you feel like it...”

The old man smiled, and tilted his head coyly. “I’m perfectly fine here, thank you.”

“I was afraid of that...”

Andriamon slowly raised an arm, her breathing heavy and clumsy. The keratin bow unfolded, each segment twitching as the middle of her arm began to glow. She splayed her palm, but the arm swayed back and forth, the fiery energy blowing it to and fro. Lonnie watched it intently, as Andriamon kept shaking her head.

“I...don’t know...where this is going...”

Lonnie closed her eyes, feeling her own blood rushing in time with the flickering flames. She let out a breath. “It’s always been like this. All my life. It’s never been alright. So...we’ve just gotta make it alright.”

“Barberous-“

“Wait.”

The girl braced herself, and stepped forwards, placing her hand beneath the amphibian’s forearm and pulling it out further.

“Hold it straighter. Rest it beneath your other hand if you need to.”

“Lonnie, I wouldn’t get so close...”

“It’s fine. What’s a few first-degree burns between friends, huh? Come on, move with me.”

Andriamon was clearly incredibly stressed, but she forced her breathing to slow down, moving with her partner’s instruction. She pushed her right foot back, descending to one knee. She held one arm out at a right angle, and twisted her firing arm until the bow was fully horizontal. The arm still shook, so Lonnie ducked underneath and held the underside, pushing it upwards as she squinted at the target panel. The arm itself was rather warm to the touch, but she splayed her hands out, ignoring the heat and focusing forwards. Alasdair said nothing; he just leant forwards slightly, watching the whole process.

The bow straightened out, the ends still quivering slightly. Andriamon gurgled, her needle-like teeth rattling in her mouth. Lonnie looked over her shoulder, and gave a quick nod.

“Don’t worry about me. Just focus ahead. It’s alright; I’m doing this with you.”

Andriamon closed her eyes, not daring to move. Her crest rose and fell, before stiffening. Her eyes focused forwards, the pupils narrowing to hairline slits. The energy crept up the top side of her arm, thinning out to a flickering spear, bright and energetic.

“Ba...Ba...”

She felt Lonnie’s hands tightening on her arm, still holding it as straight as she could.

“Go for it.”

“B...Barberous BLAZE!”

The bow sprang, and the flaming arrow shot forwards. It arced to the top-left, striking a completely different panel and exploding in a flash of yellow. The shockwave buffeted Alasdair’s hair and sweatshirt as he looked up fairly nonchalantly.

“Good. You missed, but good. Again! Same place.”

Lonnie let out her breath, and gripped Andriamon’s arm again, readjusting her own stance and tilting the position slightly.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“Barberous Blaze!”

The arrow flew free again, its journey smoother but arcing over to the right.

“Again!”

Andriamon ground her teeth as she quaked. “Lonnie...”

“It’s fine. We are gonna make this work! Trust me!”

Andriamon held her breath, and her eyes refocused as she pulled her arm slightly to the left, yelling again.

“Barberous Blaze!”

The bolt shot out, the smoothest path yet as it flew straight and true, striking the upper corner of the panel and leaving a clean impact mark. She let out a little croak of joy, and Lonnie joined in, but Alasdair just gave a single clap.

“Excellent. Again!”

“How many times?”

“Three clean hits in a row, just on that panel. It can take it, and I can stay here all day.”

Andriamon leant back, the bow quivering as lines of energy drew themselves over her arm, ready for multiple shots. She fired again and again, mostly flying wide or spiralling away, but with each shot she got more precise. More controlled. She squinted, clenching her fist just at the moment of firing.

“Barberous Blaze!”

Boom. A direct hit, right in the centre.

“Barberous Blaze!”

Slightly wide, but still on the same panel. Two down. She focused, holding her arm up rigidly as she fired once more.

“Barberous...BLAZE!”

Her arm jerked sideways, and the arrow flew to the right, jabbing into a separate panel and sending sparks off at an angle. The amphibian’s arm fell, and she yelled out in frustration. “DANGIT!”

She looked down to her left, and saw Lonnie standing there. The girl was grinning. Andriamon tilted her head, quizzically. “Sorry. We missed again.”

The girl said nothing. She just raised her palms, showing slightly red skin. “You’ve been doing the past few on your own, y’know.”

Andriamon blinked, and looked down at her own palms. They were no longer shaking. She could feel the energy pulsing across her forearms, but it was just a warm, comforting presence now, moving with the beat of her heart rather than fighting to escape. She held a palm against her chest, and looked down in awe at her partner.

“All this power...”

Lonnie raised both hands, smiling wildly. “Let’s put it to good use, shall we? Let’s make it work together.”

Andriamon’s eyes dilated, and she grinned a wicked grin, before twisting around to face Alasdair.

“Am I still on?”

Alasdair rolled his fingers together. “Can you count? I said three in a row, didn’t I? Continue.”

Andriamon leant back, and pulled her bow taut once again.

“My pleasure...”

The session was long, gruelling and complete, as well as fraught with errors. Andriamon practised with her left arm and her right, toning down the power and focusing on smaller and smaller targets. She powered up and down her rear spikes, focusing all her internal heat on a single spine and removing it without firing. She scaled the walls with her mighty arms, and leapt towards the ceiling with her powerful legs. Each new task was a new challenge, with Alasdair staying in the exact same place. He talked her through her movements, and Lonnie stepped in and walked her through, moving alongside her partner and keeping time as well as she could. It took a long time, but with each new movement Andriamon swayed less, and her reckless energy brewed to a controlled simmer.

From behind the reinforced window, Salma was watching with boundless disapproval, with Dominic pressed up against the window beside her, taking in the whole mesmerising display. “Remind me not to get on Alasdair’s bad side, will you? I barely have the stamina even to watch this.”

He heard the sounds of typing from behind him, and peered over his shoulder to see Perez heavily focused on her screen. “Come and watch this, will you? It’s quite something.”

“I am watching it. I’m just actually checking out how Andriamon’s doing.” Perez rolled back, and scratched the side of her nose. “She is bonkers. Way too much raw power for a Champion level, even one with a tamer. No wonder she had such an issue controlling it.”

“How much raw power are we talking?”

Perez looked up, and pushed her glasses up. “You know Ali told us she threw hands with an Ultimate level? I don’t think that was a fluke. I think she can just…do that.”

“Jesus...” said Dominic, turning to stare at Andriamon as she spun cleanly in the air, letting off trails of fire behind her. All the while Alasdair just sat in the corner, without a care in the world.

Dominic looked up at Salma, who gave a tsk, and shook her head.

“Alasdair, my old friend, what manner of a beast have you unleashed upon this world?”

“She is fairly strong, isn’t she?”

Salma blinked, and looked down at the engineer, her face stoic as always.

“I wasn’t talking about the Digimon...”

The process ended where it had began; three shots on the same target. It took her a couple of attempts, but Andriamon managed three at a time, including one extra for good luck. She powered down, breathing raggedly as both Lonnie and Alasdair gave her a round of applause.

“Geez...that was...quite something-“

She went to step sideways, but her foot slipped from beneath her, and she planted her hand against the ground. Without warning, it exploded upwards, the energy stored inside bursting out and flipping her over onto her back with a massive bang. Lonnie ducked for cover as an arc of fire flew over her head, lashing against the top of the building with a boom. Instantly an alarm went off, followed by a weak sprinkler system, as Alasdair wheeled himself forwards towards the smoking duo.

“Crap, crap, crap...are you alright?”

Lonnie just lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling as water fell down around her. Andriamon did the same, her crimson skin going redder by the second.

“Sorry. I think I missed.”

Lonnie snorted, and immediately burst out into fits of giggles, which expanded into huge, hearty guffaws. Andriamon’s face cracked, and she joined in, her voice echoing around the chamber as Alasdair leant back with a sigh of relief, holding his forehead.

“You two are impossible...”

Lonnie wiped her eyes, grinning and barely getting the words out between the laughs. “Well, we’ve got to keep you on your toes, haven’t we...”

She sat up, holding her palms against the floor as she glanced outside the window. Perez and Dominic where staring out with looks of horror, while Salma just stood there writing something on her notepad. Lonnie pointed. “I take it we failed then?”

Alasdair twisted around, and his shoulders slumped.

“No, I’m afraid that’s just going to be extra on my bill...”

“Sorry, Uncle Ali.”

“What for?” The man held his arm out, pulling Lonnie to her feet. “It’s day one. You’ve already done far more than I’d have expected. You really are something else.” He held his shoulder, looking slightly sheepish. “That being said...I think we should call it a day before we get physically thrown out.”

Lonnie held her knees, trying to catch her breath as Andriamon shrunk down to Dendromon behind her. The amphibian waddled over, dazed but still full of energy. “We going home then? I’m starving.”

Lonnie and Alasdair looked at one another, and Alasdair handed the girl the bunch of flowers.

“We just want to make a quick stop along the way...”

The taxi drove away from the front of the iron gates as Lonnie pushed Alasdair beneath the archway, with the man holding the bunch of flowers in his hands. Dendromon waddled along behind, complaining of being sore, but she soon quietened down as she took in the contemplative mood of the two humans. They travelled along the gravelly path, as tufts of grass and fallen leaves lay in piles either side.

Alasdair leant back, his face serious. “Lonnie...”

“What is it?”

“Doesn’t it bother you?” The man turned his head away, hiding his nervous expression. “What Dramatismon told you? Especially regarding your future.”

Lonnie shrugged, looking thoughtful. “I dunno. Why should I listen to him? He was a jerk.”

Alasdair held his hands closer together in front of him. “You do know it’s only going to get harder, though. The Digimon, the hunters...Dramatismon was only the first. There’s something big coming, I can feel it.”

“Well then,” said Lonnie winking at Dendromon and flexing her right arm, “I guess we’ll just have to be ready then.”

Alasdair let out a half-laugh. “You are impossible, you know that? How did you end up so much like her?”

“Haven’t you been listening? Cause I wanna save the world.”

The wind picked up, and a few leaves fell past her head as her pigtails whipped and fell. She raised a hand, and brushed a tuft of hair from her eyes.

“’Cause I’m only here because other people saw something wrong and wanted to change it. Because of people like Mum, and you, and Granny. So it doesn’t matter if some pom-pom jerk, or a nasty man in a crash helmet, or even my stepdad tries to beat me down into the ground. Or tells me I deserve to die, or that the world would be better off without me. I’m gonna prove every one of them wrong. Who cares if somebody somewhere wrote down that I was gonna cause the world to end? I’ll just have to be there to make sure it doesn’t.”

Alasdair lowered his eyelids, staring into nothing. “The world doesn’t deserve you, Lonnie. I don’t deserve you.”

“You’ve done so much for me, Uncle Ali. And for Mum and the girls. It’s because of you we can be happy together.”

“You give me too much credit.“ Alasdair smiled weakly, as the two of them turned off the path and rolled slowly over the rough grass. “But your mother is a fantastic, brilliant woman.”

The two rolled to a stop, and looked down at the marble stone in between hundreds, with curved wings and a pair of old flying goggles carved into the head.

“And so was she.”

Lonnie crouched down, her eyes moist as she looked at the inscription on the white marble.

Yvonne McMillan. 1943 - 2014.

Wife, Mother, Grandmother, Hero.

May You Fly High Forever

Lonnie reached out, laying the flowers on the top of the grass-covered mound. “I miss her every day, Ali. Every single day.”

Alasdair rolled forwards, and placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Me too, Lonnie.” He smiled. “You remind me so much of her. I could tell you to stop one thousand times and you’d still get up and keep going.”

Lonnie giggled, and wiped the corners of her eyes. “That’s cause the next time we get up is the time we’re gonna win.”

“So you always told me.”

Lonnie sat up, and embraced the old man, being careful not to put too much pressure on his shoulders. Dendromon walked forwards, her expression one of puzzlement, and yet almost familiarity.

“Did you and I...ever meet before?”

She shook her head, holding a hand to her own chest. “No. No, it’s impossible...we couldn’t have...”

A wind blew up, making the grass rustle around her, and she shivered. Her hand went up, running beneath her eyes. There were tears.

“Why...why does it hurt...?”

As Lonnie began to roll Alasdair away, Dendromon held her hand out, and stroked the stone lettering. She smiled, her gills flickering in the wind.

“You’d be proud of Lonnie. She saved my life. And she’s gonna save the world one day.”

The salamander thought of Velocimon, and got down to one knee, lowering her head.

“I’ll be right there by her side, I promise. I’ll be her knight.”

“Dendromon? Are you coming?”

The salamander looked up, and made to run after the two. She paused just for a second, and looked back at the white marble, a smile broadening on her face.

“I don’t know who you are, but...thank you.”

The sky grew darker and darker as Alasdair sat alone in his room, gently fixing pieces of his jigsaw. His breathing was heavier than usual. It had been a long day for him as well.

He placed the last piece of a corner section, and sat back, swaying gently back and forth. A clock ticked on the wall, and from the kitchen he could hear the dull hum of the freezer.

Just under twenty days now.

The man sat there, alone with his thoughts, his memories, his guilt. Lonnie’s smiling face greeting him at every turn. Lonnie’s? Or was it Yvonne’s? Either way, those golden eyes and that bright orange hair; he couldn’t help but be reassured.

“It’s going to be alright. Just like the stories I told you, from back when I was a boy.”

Ever so slowly, he turned himself around, and wheeled himself towards the dresser. He reached out, and opened the middle drawer, before sliding his finger into the notch at the front. The top panel slid back, revealing another thin compartment, with a single object inside.

“...I never told you the rest, did I?”

The man’s eyes were grey and automatic as he pulled the device out, trailing wires as it did so. It was bulky, with a flat, hexagonal panel and thick Bakelite buttons and dials. There were switches around the sides, and a domed screen on the front, covered with dust. But even as he held it, he could feel the dull hum, resonating even with his own weak heartbeat. In the centre he could see the tiniest pinprick of red light, and just for a moment he swore he could hear a melancholic cry in the distance. He twitched, and the sound vanished. But the light remained; a spot in the oppressive darkness.

“Things are going to work out this time. I’ll make sure of it.”

Alasdair closed his eyes, and returned the old digivice to its compartment, sealing it away again.

“Believe in me, old friend.”