The last few days of college before Christmas were never a particularly busy affair, with the students generally unable to concentrate on work and the teachers all but giving up on making them try. It may have been Nicholas’s first time in this particular institution, but he knew the way these things tended to work. Only the most diligent would actually stay to the bitter end. He should know. He was often among them.

So he had realised, as he quietly removed his gym shoes from the locker to pack them away for the two weeks off, that the common room was almost desolately empty nowadays. The occasional student walking past, or a teacher sitting alone in a room. He’d witnessed one of them crying before a lesson. He’d decided to skip the lesson that day.

Nobody seemed willing to talk about any of it. The incidents, the newsflashes, the students who had disappeared and come back, and the other students who definitely hadn’t. Everybody passed each other with nary a word. Everyone was on edge. Many people just focused entirely forwards, trying to get through the days as quickly as possible. He could see the thoughts running through their eyes. It’s nearly over. Christmas is nearly here. It has to end soon. It has to. There can’t be anything worse till then. The bad things have to stop.

Even when the news constantly suggested otherwise.

There was a small TV in the corner of the common room, wedged in the corner in between two cheap motivational posters. It caught Nicholas’s eye as he gently shimmied past, with three other people sat close by, listening to the poor-quality newsreel coming from the ancient speakers.

“...the three bodies found dead at the scene have been identified and are believed to be part of the activist group against digital threats. The creature they were pursing is also believed to have died at the scene.”

Nicholas watched, the lights in his eyes as the police tape was replaced by grainy phone footage of Vex at a rally in the middle of the high street, followed by an overlay of three photos of two young men and one young woman looking at the camera.

“Geezus.”

Nicholas looked down as one of the girls leant over to whisper to her friend. “That’s my dentist.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I’m not. I saw him two weeks ago.”

“Fuck.”

A fourth image faded onto the screen as the voiceover continued – “ Another member of the group, identified as thirty-two year old Morgan Archer, was also present at the scene, but has since passed away in hospital from internal injuries received from the incident. Rhys Waters, reporting live.”

The story cut away, back to the studio with several people discussing the issues at hand. Nicholas backed away, swinging round as he made to leave the building.

“Hey Nick.”

The boy bristled, and turned to stare at Brennan Coleman in the face. “Don’t call me Nick.”

“Ah, whatever, soz.” The lankier boy shuffled forwards, holding up his phone. “You’ve been following the college chats, right?”

Nicholas’s expression didn’t change. “I don’t use social media. I don’t agree with it.”

“Oh come on, how do you expect to keep up with anything? You need to stay with the times.”

Brennan grinned in an encouraging manner. When he got no response, he swiped down, thrusting the device in Nicholas’s face as he leant forwards. “We’re getting a gang together. We’re joining those other hunters. Enough is enough. We take these bastards down. All of them. The monsters won’t know what hit them. You in?”

“I don’t protest.”

“It’s not a protest. It’s taking back control, man. It’s getting rid of the scum.”

Brennan nudged Nicholas, but the other boy firmly grasped his hand and moved it away, before walking backwards. “I said I don’t protest.”

Brennan shuffled awkwardly, before yelling out as loudly as he dared. “They’re gonna come for you too! Then what are you gonna do?”

“Is the other option being all marching buddies with people like you?” Nicholas waved a hand. “I’ll take my chances, thanks.”

He shut the door behind him, and walked towards the double doors out into the school grounds. It was icy outside, with a distinct mist on the windows. He passed Ms Fitzgerald’s office on his left, and slowed a little, wondering if it would be appropriate to tell her he was feeling ill or something. He still wasn’t entirely sure of the protocol here. It wouldn’t do to get into trouble this close to Christmas.

But as he glanced through the window, it was clear that she also wasn’t there.

Nicholas walked through the streets, his hefty boots clacking against the hard stone pavement. It wasn’t just the college; the entire town seemed like a wasteland, more than he’d ever seen it before. A couple of sets of lights twinkled on the overhead banners, and the festive displays in the shop windows promised a level of welcoming and good cheer, combined with good old-fashioned commercialism. But even the allure of two-for-one toasters seemed to have passed the general public by. The wind picked up, whistling through the streets. Nicholas popped up his collar as he wandered towards the Caffé Kitty.

Twenty minutes later, he was sat at the table in the upstairs section, a latte in front of him as he poked at his phone. It was thankfully warmer in here, and his glasses had misted up ever so slightly.

He checked through his messages. Nothing new. The last one in his chain to Grace was him saying that he was free now, and whether she wanted to come any earlier. It was only a thought; a last minute one. He found it often wasn’t much help to commit to things. Not just with Grace, but as a general rule.

The top floor was practically empty. It was only eleven in the morning; obviously a quiet time on a work day. He slid across, and fingered his way through today’s paper. As he picked it up, a few short segments of card slid out, scattering over the table. Phone numbers. Dates and times. Reclaim our town. Reclaim our world. Get rid of them. All of them. Nicholas pulled a face, scrunched the pieces of paper up and shoved them in his pocket.

“Excuse me, sir...”

The boy looked up to see the waitress looking down at him, holding an empty tray in her hands. Raquel scratched her cheek, looking slightly embarrassed as she looked around.

“You wouldn’t...happen to be Nicholas Rowe, would you?”

Nicholas nodded, clasping his hands on the table. “Is this about Grace? Isn’t she able to come?”

“Oh, no, she’s here, she told me to tell you that she’s here, but...well...” Raquel pulled her lips in, glancing behind her at the doors to the restrooms. “She’s having a tough morning.”

Nicholas felt the pieces of propaganda in his pocket. “I can understand why.”

“You...do?”

Raquel gave him a puzzled look. Nicholas toyed with his thoughts for a moment, before raising a finger to his lips. “More or less. But don’t tell her I know.”

“Ah.” Raquel nodded. “You too?”

“Unofficially.”

“I see. Sucks to be us.” The girl cleared her throat. “Between you and me, she wasn’t in a good way. I don’t know if she’s going to be in a fit state to...well...I don’t know where you two are right now, but...”

She trailed off, shuffling her feet. Nicholas nodded. “I understand. I might hang around a little. Thanks for letting me know.”

Raquel smiled, took his empty mug and headed back down the stairs, leaving Nicholas on his own on the top floor. He sat there for a while, flicking through the paper, although he wasn’t really reading it, keeping his eyes on the restroom doors in front of him.

Eventually he stood up, walking forwards towards the ladies’. He raised a hand to knock, before rethinking his approach. He shifted sideways instead, hovering beside the cheeseplant next to the gents. The boy pulled out his phone, flicking through the messages with Grace. He idly tapped at the keyboard on the screen.

“Everything ok?”

There was a pause. Then, after a little while, Nicholas noticed the little typing icon appear beside Grace’s icon.

“i’m sorry. i tried. i really did.”

Nicholas sighed, tapping at the screen again. “That’s not what I asked. Are you ok?”

Another pause. Longer this time.

“no. I feel sick.”

“Is this related to the thing that happened last night?”

“Yes.”

“Anything you can talk to me about?”

Another pause. Nicholas’s gaze flicked over towards the door, but there was no motion. When there was still no response, he posed another question.

“Is it something you need to talk to someone else about?”

The little icon flicked on beside Grace’s picture again, making it bounce. Nicholas looked into the eyes of the photo; a fairly recent one, dressed up nicely at somebody’s party, with the same slightly uncertain smile he was familiar with by now. But it still seemed a world away. Photos always did, he reckoned.

The typing icon remained for a good thirty seconds. Then it flicked off. On and off. Three times. Four. Then, finally, just a sad emoji. Nicholas looked down at the screen, poking at the keypad.

“I’m free tomorrow. Would you be up for that?”

“Yes.”

The response came remarkably quickly. Followed by the typing icon again.

“ i’d like that. i’m sorry i’ve ruined your morning. i didn’t mean it.”

“Don’t ever apologise for needing space. Alright?”

“alright.”

“I’ll catch you tomorrow, ok? Look after yourself.”

“you too.”

Nicholas pocketed his phone, taking one last glance at the door. Then he walked past, stepping quickly down the wooden stairs.

Grace leant forwards as she heard the faint footsteps from outside, closing her eyes. The toilet bowl was raised in front of her, and she could still taste the contents from her stomach all around the roof of her mouth. Not that there was anything left to bring up. She hadn’t had breakfast that morning.

She thought she was doing well. She’d made it here. She promised. But the headline in the local paper had just tipped her over the edge.

She wiped the tears from her eyes. Her phone sat on her knee, facing upwards and showing the short-distance conversation. She desperately wanted to get up and run after him, grab him, hold him, cry into his shoulder. Again. The same thing – the same excuse again, and again, and again...

The girl leant forwards, and pressed the flush, pushing herself up as she watched the froth and water tumble away . Slowly she got to her feet, letting out a wet, ragged breath.

“I’m the scum of the earth...”

“I’m back.”

Nicholas swung the door open, wiping his feet and pulling at his scarf. He usually didn’t mind the thirty-five minute walk from the middle of the town to his grandparents’ house, but this time of year it could get desperately cold. He jettisoned his shoes in the rack, and hung his jacket up, before walking into the kitchen where his grandmother, Rose Lambert, was sticking labels to pots of homemade jam. She sat up, adjusting her glasses. “You’re back early.”

“There was nothing really for me to do at college. And Grace had to cancel.”

“That’s a shame.” The old lady sat back, and Nicholas leant forwards, giving her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. The sound of snoring from the living room along indicated that David was deep within his morning nap. Nicholas pulled back, brushing the dust off his jumper. “I might get a bit of revision done.”

Rose looked concerned. “You look a little worn down. Can I get you anything to eat? Or do you want to take a couple of biscuits up?”

“Thank you.” Nicholas reached up for the ten, taking three or four as Rose got back to her jam labelling.

“I might need to come and have another look in your room shortly. I could have sworn I heard something banging up there.”

Nicholas shook his head. “Probably an open window or something.”

“Well, if you’re sure...” She nodded. “Would you like us to leave you a plate of dinner? Or are you seeing friends?”

“I’m seeing somebody tonight. But thanks anyway.”

Rose smiled sadly after him as he disappeared upstairs, his feet making barely a sound on the carpet.

“You’re always welcome.”

Nicholas’s hand hovered over the door handle, gently tapping the brass. He clutched it, and walked inside, slipping his bag off his shoulders.

There came a whistling sound from behind him, and the boy raised a hand, batting away the pen which was flying towards his head. Another one joined it, which Nicholas caught, letting it dangle between his finger and thumb.

“Is that any way to say hello?”

Yethmon scowled, perched on the footboard of the bed like a bedraggled cat, and holding a series of pens in one hand like they were throwing knives. Nicholas raised a hand in greeting, and the hound snarled.

“Let me out.”

“No. You’ll get in trouble.”

“That’s none of your goddamn business. And give me my knife back!”

“You can have your toys back when you learn to play nicely with them.”

Yethmon’s eyes flashed, and he raised another pen, only for pain to flash across his face. He fell back into the duvet, clutching his hip as Nicholas wandered up beside him.

“Raise your arm.”

“Fuck off...ow...”

“Just do it.”

The hound harrumphed. But he tentatively held one claw up, and Nicholas reached in, feeling around the hound’s bandaged body with a couple of fingers. He stood up, rolling his fingers.

“You’ll be fine. Looks like it’s just a bit tender still.” He smiled. “Glad to see you’re feeling a bit more lively at least.”

Yethmon folded his arms, still lying on his back. “I didn’t ask for your help, you know.”

“And I didn’t give you an option. You were about to die.”

“You should have let me. I beat the shit out of you that one time.”

“And?”

“And!?”

Nicholas leant forwards, planting a finger against the hound’s lips. “Not so loud. They’re getting a little suspicious.”

Yethmon grumbled, but quietened down. He sat up fully, holding his claws around his knees as the young man began to change out of his college wear on the other side of the room. Yethmon looked aside, running his eyes over the bedroom walls. There were a couple of shelves holding a few bits of nostalgia. A couple of badminton trophies. Old, sunbleached piano books. A scruffy stuffed toy of indeterminate species. An empty picture frame. The odd piece of memory here and there, but mostly remarkably barren.

The hound looked back, and caught a glimpse of Nicholas’s back as he pulled off his shirt. It was only a quick look, but it was enough to display the three hefty purple grooves in the boy’s pale skin, still with a reddened tinge to the flesh. Nicholas looked back, and quickly pulled a T-shirt down.

“It’s fine. It was only surface level. Like you, I just needed a bit of rest.”

Yethmon looked away, growling under his breath. “I don’t get you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Any of you. Humans. People. But you especially. You don’t make any sense.” He leant sideways, gripping the duvet slightly. “I could have killed you back then. I didn’t have a reason. It just felt right at the time. But you...you have every reason to hate me, or just...well...walk away. Why did you save my fucking life?”

Nicholas rested on his computer chair, swivelling back and forth in a ponderous manner. “Why not?”

“You know what I mean.”

Nicholas pushed his glasses up. “I don’t hold grudges. If I did, I’d get nothing done. You aren’t the first one to hurt me, you know.” He gave a side-smile. “Besides, you gave me an opportunity to get a bit more involved. See what the tamers actually get up to.”

Yethmon snarled. “I ain’t joining the happy-clappy brigade.”

“We’ll see.”

Yethmon’s eyes flashed, but Nicholas didn’t look away, just giving Yethmon the same stare he had for the past few days. The hound was beginning to find it rather unsettling. There was no malice behind it, or any deliberate trickery. But at the same time there was an almost aggressive edge to it, as if daring the hound to try and run, or hit back, or anything.

Yethmon lay back further into the fluff, breathing out. “You’re weird, you know that?”

“I have been told.” Nicholas smiled widely. “You still out for my head?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. But a lot of other Digimon will be, you know. This isn’t just some game. They’re angry. They will come for you.”

The boy’s smile faded, and he leant back. “Are you aware of what happened last night? With the attack? Several of those vigilantes were killed. And a Digimon along with them.”

Yethmon flinched. Then he looked down. “It doesn’t surprise me. It’s getting worse.” The hound whistled. “The saviour is coming, apparently. That’ll bring an end to it, so says the Sanctuary Crusade.”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. “Saviour?”

“I don’t know anything about it. I didn’t deal much with those guys, and didn’t want to. But they’re convinced someone’s coming through to this world to save all Digimon here.” He smirked, blowing his mask out. “Complete freaks, the lot of them. I just wanted to stay out of the way.”

“So you...started a gang and began mugging people.”

Yethmon stuck his tongue out, blowing a raspberry. “I didn’t ask you for your opinion. I ain’t getting involved in no war with humanity and I ain’t getting involved with you weirdos and your partners or anything.”

“Partners?”

“Don’t you know?”

“Not really. You know I’m not actually part of the group either, right?” Nicholas leant forwards, holding his fingers beneath his chin. “What do you know about partners, then?”

Yethmon’s claw went up to his scarf, clutching it, feeling for something that wasn’t there. He looked away.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It might do.”

“I’m not telling you. I don’t have it anyway.”

“Have what?”

“I don’t get it? Why are you so obsessed with that kind of life? What’s in it for you?”

Nicholas leant back, holding his hands behind his head. “Nothing really. I just like heroes, I guess.”

Yethmon scowled, and turned away. Nicholas waited for him to say any more, before swivelling around. “I need to do some college work. But would you be up for a little night walk later?”

“What the hell for?”

“Just to test the waters. Get to know each other.” Nicholas winked. “See what’s going on around these parts.”

“Go on your own, prick.”

“Come on. I might let you hold your dagger.”

“...”

“It’ll be fuuuun.”

“...hey, Nicky-boy? Fuck you.”

“You’re welcome. And don’t call me Nicky-boy.”

The rest of the afternoon proceeded without major incident or interaction between the two, save for Yethmon just trying to be deliberately annoying. Nicholas just sat in silence, catching up with reading and attempting maths problems.

Then, when the outside chill was beginning to creep in, he suddenly shut up, and began to rummage in his wardrobe, pulling out an old sweatshirt. Yethmon watched his movements, his lip curling.

“I’m not coming out.”

Nicholas winked. “I’ll see you outside the back window.”

“For the love of god...”

Nicholas shut the door, and gently tiptoed downstairs. He stuck his neck around the doorframe, where Rose and David were watching the six o’clock news together in the living room. David looked up, and muted the channel slightly.

“You off out then?”

“Yes, just meeting someone. I’ll be back after ten, most likely.”

“Thanks for letting us know.” David smiled. “Have a good time, won’t you?”

“I will. Thanks.”

He turned to go, but Rose looked over her shoulder. “We love you. You know that, right?”

Nicholas paused. Then he poked his head back in. “I love you too.”

The young man and his grandparents looked at one another for a slightly extended period, before Nicholas nodded and walked towards the front door, closing it behind him with a click. He paused for a moment, listening out. After a couple of seconds, the sound from the TV reappeared, repeating the same news stories he’d been hearing for the best part of a week.

He continued out the door, looking left and right, before quickly darting around the back of the house. He looked up at the bedroom window for a second, before searching around the garden, a puzzled look on his face.

“Yethmon?”

“Not a word...”

The boy turned to see the hound’s legs sticking upside down in a bush, as he hurriedly tried to right himself. Nicholas watched in mild amusement, as Yethmon finally stood up, brushing himself down. He caught Nicholas’s expression, and glared at him.

“This was a horrible idea. I’m going out the front door next time.”

“I didn’t say a word...” Nicholas backed away, beckoning the hound. “Come on then, let’s go exploring.”

Yethmon grumbled, shuffling on his feet. But as Nicholas walked away from him, he began to follow, staying a few steps behind. Nicholas glanced over his shoulder.

“See? I told you you’d enjoy it.”

“Hardly. It’s just boring in your house.” He placed his claws inside his cloak. “You said you’d bring my dagger.”

“I said I might. I’m not so cavalier you know.”

“That figures.” Yethmon growled. “You humans are all nothing but spiteful, deceitful creatures.”

Nicholas slowed, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Would it ever kill you to treat people with just a little bit of respect?”

“Look who’s talking.”

The boy adjusted his glasses. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I listen. I see how you treat your grandparents. Don’t act like you’re suddenly better than me.”

He gave a smug look, obviously hoping to get a rise out of the young man. But Nicholas just shrugged. “I treat them with respect. I do love them. I don’t see the problem.”

“You sure have a funny way of showing it.” Yethmon kicked at the ground. “Nothing ever bothers you. It’s infuriating. Don’t you ever show any kind of emotion?”

“I’m just careful, is all.”

Yethmon raised an eyebrow, looking up at the back of Nicholas’s head as the young man kept walking on. The hound cursed himself, before speeding up a bit, walking in step with Nicholas. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“You want to get all buddy-buddy with me, don’t you? What’s all that about? Why are you being so distant about yourself?”

“I don’t get ‘buddy-buddy’ with anyone. I’m just trying to get along with you ‘cause it seems like it could be interesting.” Nicholas slowed, rolling his shoulders. “Getting too close to people means they’re more likely to hurt you. You’d be well to keep that in mind.”

“Is this-“

Yethmon blurted out the words before he could stop himself, and Nicholas looked down at him, waiting expectantly. Yethmon sighed, and asked the whole question.

“Is this...anything to do with your actual parents?”

“Probably. I’m not sure.” Nicholas leant back against a fence, stretching his fingers in front of him. “Dad died in a car crash when I was very young. Mum tried to look after me, but she couldn’t cope. She had a mental breakdown seven years ago, and I went to live with her parents. I don’t really talk to her now.”

Yethmon shuffled back and forth awkwardly, unsure how to take the young man’s deadpan comments.

“...don’t you hate her for leaving you?”

“Should I?” Nicholas closed his fingers into a fist. “I don’t really think about it. It’s easier that way.” His eyes were half-closed. “I can focus on my own life. What I really want. I don’t need any distractions.”

Yethmon crept closer, keeping his head down but his eyes pointing upwards, as if trying to see what the young man was thinking through his half-hidden gaze. Suddenly Nicholas’s eyes flicked towards the hound, and he smiled.

“So go on then, what about you? What’s your story?”

“Whuh...”

“What, I’m supposed to be the only one who brings up my tragic traumatic past? Don’t leave me in the lurch, Yethmon.”

“...I hate you!”

The hound stormed off in a huff, with Nicholas watching in slight amusement as he did so. He stayed a few steps behind, just about keeping up with the hound’s irritated movements. Eventually Yethmon slowed, letting out a long sigh.

“I was running away.”

He turned, holding the hem of his cloak as he looked up at Nicholas. The boy could see his eyes flickering, not really looking at him, or at anything in particular.

“We thought it was going to get better. The war was over, and the world was going to be alright again. But things...things started going wrong. Everybody I knew was running. The gates were opening. We didn’t have anywhere left to go.”

Nicholas leant back, running a finger over his mouth as he listened to the hound’s story. Occasionally Yethmon’s voice would descend to a near whisper, but Nicholas just let him continue, not interrupting him now.

“At first it was just the large gateway, but it was blocked off. But then others began to open. Tears in the fabric of the digital world, like it was being stretched or pulled apart or something. I didn’t want to leave. But eventually I didn’t have a choice.” His eyes glazed. “I don’t remember much. Just the world falling apart beneath my feet as I ran for wherever I could. Somebody helped me. They gave me something. Told me to find my partner.”

Nicholas raised his eyebrows, but Yethmon shook his head, pulling open his cloak. “I was too busy trying not to look at the space around me. It was...horrible. Like it was trying to pull me away from my home. I could see Digimon I knew caught up in it, just...floating. Still. Completely still. Like they were reaching out for something. But I couldn’t look at it either, and I couldn’t go after them, and I...I...”

Yethmon shook his head, holding a paw over his muzzle. “The next thing I knew I woke up here. There wasn’t any gateway left. It had already closed.”

Nicholas nodded. “What did you do?”

“What else could I do? I was stuck.” Yethmon huffed. “I still am.”

“You didn’t try to find your partner?”

“No. I didn’t know where to start even if I wanted to.”

Yethmon noticed Nicholas’s slightly disappointed gaze, and sighed. “I didn’t ask for any of it. Yeah, I...knew kind of what it was. What you – humans, I mean – meant to us. Most Digimon do nowadays. But I never wanted to be a part of that life.” The hound shrugged, and pulled his cloak in slightly. “I tried to find some other Digimon who’d gotten through, but the gates are little shits. Everyone’s scattered. It’s complete pot luck as to where you’ll end up. But I found a few Digimon regardless. We stuck together. Kept out of your way to survive.”

Nicholas bit his lip. “This thing in your old world must still be happening, mustn’t it? You can’t live like this forever. We have to find a way to live together sooner or later.”

He stood up, kicking at the ground with his torn boots, scuffed by several years of walking in the rough. “This world doesn’t want us. Humans don’t want us; heck, they don’t want each other around half the time. What chance do we have of getting along?”

Nicholas folded his arms. “And yet you’re here, talking to me.”

The hound snarled instinctually. Then he calmed down. “So it seems.” He sighed. “It’s lonely, being stuck on your own. With that and with Rhyncomon breathing down our necks and with all these other Digimon getting involved, I lost my temper.” He glanced up at Nicholas. “You just got in the way that day.”

“It’s all cool.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Yethmon rubbed beneath his chin. “That’s one thing I don’t get about you people. Why are you so adamant to be...well...nice to people who hurt you?”

He looked up at Nicholas, who thought about it for a few seconds. Eventually he shrugged. “I’m not sure. Because it’s the right thing to do?”

“What counts as right?”

“Heck if I know.” Nicholas’s mouth twisted up at one corner, ever so slightly. “Mind you, you seem to be pretty aware of it yourself. I think you’re a better person than you give yourself credit for.”

“I will cut you up.”

“I’m serious.” Nicholas folded his arms. “Maybe there was a reason you were chosen to be a partner.”

Yethmon opened his mouth to complain, but he couldn’t think of an appropriate response. When he looked up at Nicholas again, he noticed an interesting look in the young man’s eyes.

“Will you stop doing that already?”

“Stop doing what?”

“I don’t know but you’re definitely doing it.” The hound stamped a foot. “It feels like you’re trying to get me to think a certain way or make me do something but I don’t know how and it’s making me confused.”

Nicholas fluttered his eyelashes. “Would I do that to you?”

“Yes!?”

Clatter

The exchange was cut short as the two jumped, their attention grabbed by the sound coming from the main road; a series of bangs, interspersed by aggressive hollering and frantic footsteps. Yethmon rushed forwards, ducking behind a dustbin as he peered out.

“That’s a bunch of Digimon right there.”

There was a thud as Nicholas crouched down behind him, pressing his glasses slightly further up. Yethmon glared up at him. “Will you get off me?”

“Apologies.”

The hound squinted forwards, watching as the silhouettes knocked back and forth in the distance. They seemed to be focusing on a single shape; probably the most illuminated among them, currently being tossed back and forth with alacrity.

“So what? Are we going to stop them?”

Yethmon tilted round, glaring at Nicholas. “Since when did ‘we’ agree to do anything?”

He blinked, and turned around fully, as Nicholas sat up. The hound pointed at the young man’s face. “What the hell is that?”

Nicholas ran a finger down the side of the mask; a plain oval disc with a couple of basic eye holes, scrawled over in a mass of multicoloured felt tip, like it had been brutalised by a three-year-old on a sugar high.

“I was just trying to get into the spirit of it.”

“For the last time, I’m not buddying up with you! Especially not when you’re dressed like that! Take it off.”

He swiped, and the papier-mâché monstrosity fell to the ground, leaving a slightly hurt-looking Nicholas staring ahead. The hound seethed for a few seconds, and made to march back off down the alleyway, when a distant voice drifted into his ears.

“Well now, little maiden, isn’t it such a pity for you t’be all alone, this late at night, when there are monsters around, isn’t it?”

Yethmon froze, and darted back to his position behind the bin, staring out against the dim streetlight. It was hard to make out at this distance, but there was no mistaking that voice. Liopramon stood at the head of the shadowed group, smirking in a cooing manner towards their prey.

Yethmon growled, his hackles rising. “It’s him...”

Nicholas pressed his lips out. “I vaguely recall him from before. Bad choice of friends?”

“We were never friends. Well, not really. I mean...” Yethmon gripped the material of the bin tightly. “He was nice enough. I kind of knew where he was coming from when he kicked me out. Back then. But now...”

He narrowed his eyes, his breath making clouds in the cold evening air.

“Now he’s just pissing me off something fierce.”

There was a flash of light and a twinkle of gold, and somebody let out a cry of pain, prompting a ripple of laughter through the group. The target got to their feet, standing just a head over Liopramon as they took a swing, but the leprechaun reached forwards and socked them in the gut, making them fall over again. Yethmon’s teeth clicked together as he watched the display.

“That’s a Digimon. We never went after Digimon like that. I made that clear. We were only out to protect ourselves...”

Another kick. Another cry of pain, followed by some distant, incomprehensible words. Nicholas looked at the hound’s tail, watching it twitching back and forth as he held his cloak. The boy pushed his glasses up.

“Are you angry enough yet?”

Yethmon’s gaze shot back. “Don’t try and stop me, human.”

Something nudged him in the back, and he turned around, watching as Nicholas held out a small metal package, with one end covered in kitchen roll. Yethmon reached out, gently pulling his dagger from the package and looking down at it. Nicholas smirked.

“On the contrary, you might need to be a bit better equipped.”

Yethmon stared at Nicholas for a good few seconds, his eyes showing endless bewilderment. Then they sharpened, and the hound rushed backwards without warning, running out into the open with his weapon in hand. Nicholas didn’t react. He just calmly stood up, brushed the debris from his trousers, and walked out after the hound.

The streetlamps flickered as Yethmon passed under them, causing the first of the hound’s gang to turn towards the disturbance. Several of them raised their fists, but a gasp from Kokabuterimon stopped them all in their tracks. Yethmon slowed, holding his dagger out and yelling out towards Liopramon.

“Hey there, arsehole.”

Liopramon turned around, and a few different emotions flashed across his face simultaneously. Then he straightened up, flicking out his sleeves and adjusting his own cap, before meeting the hound with a smile.

“I’ll be honest, I really wasn’t expectin’ t’see you around again. How have you been? How’s the back?”

Yethmon exhaled, shaking his head and laughing humourlessly. “You have several shades of complete dickery I need to make you answer for, you tweed-wearing pixie.”

Liopramon tipped his hat, and flicked a couple of coins about in his right hand. “Yeah, sorry, exchange rate’s a tricky bastard, y’know? You ain’t getting your little posse back. We’re doing our own thing now.”

“We never went after lone Digimon, Liopramon. You know the rules.”

“Did I stutter? Lucky Doubloon!”

The leprechaun’s eyes flashed and a couple of shining projectiles shot out of the darkness. With a fast movement and a flash of red Yethmon managed to block them, but they pushed him back a few inches. He winced, his bandaged body trembling a little. Liopramon rolled his eyes.

“This is just feckin’ embarrassing.”

Yethmon spat, re-bracing himself. “Give me back what you owe me, prick!”

“Why?”

“Come on!” Yethmon swayed back and forth, holding the dagger up in a combat pose. “I’ll fight you for it. Round two. One on one. Come on, where’s your pride? Fight me!”

“...no.”

Yethmon ducked as a shovel swung at his head from behind, but Suricamon rolled with the weight and brought the blade down lower, smashing it into his shins. The hound howled, and kicked back, sending the meerkat skittering away, but before he could move the others were on him again. He knocked Alraumon away, but Kokabuterimon gave him a brutal ram in the chest, and he went down with another kick from Liopramon. The leprechaun reached out and held the hound up by the scruff of the neck, staring him down.

“What exactly was the plan here? You’re done. Finished. There’s nothing left fer you. Accept your pathetic waste of a life and live or die away from me or the rest of us, y’utter waste of space.”

“Hey!”

A flash of light bounced off Liopramon’s shoulder, and he turned to see his original quarry stood up on two legs, breathing heavily as she held her pistol in two hands. Simeamon’s shoulders rose and fell, her suit torn and scratched and her helmet chipped, but not enough to hide her own furious expression.

“Didn’t I tell you wankers you aren’t done with me...yet...?”

Yethmon leaned sideways. “Bugger off, I was in line first.”

“You stay out of...this...” Simeamon’s head tilted, and her expression changed to one which was simultaneously bamboozled and utterly done with everything. She wiggled her pistol back and forth. “Wait...weren’t you two a thing before?”

Yethmon narrowed his eyes. “Weren’t you supposed to be with the lanky human?”

“We had a falling out.” Simeamon’s eyes skipped up, and her eyebrows raised some more. “What’s he doing here?”

Yethmon looked up at Nicholas, who gave a little wave. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

Nicholas blinked. “Am I interrupting something?”

Liopramon pointed. “Wait a sec, aren’t you that guy that he got all violent on? What are you doing hanging out together?”

“What are you doing hanging out here at all?” Simeamon scratched her head. “Aren’t you Gra-...aren’t you...like...not supposed to be involved with any of this?”

The bout of pointless and ill-timed questions went on for several more rounds, with the members of the gang looking between the four as if they were watching some kind of impromptu tennis game. Eventually, in an attempt to take advantage of the situation, Yethmon managed to slip away from Liopramon’s grip and swing at his feet, but the move was ruined by his own hip clicking noisily. He lurched sideways and Liopramon materialised in front of him with a pop, knocking him beneath the chin and grabbing him by the scruff again. The leprechaun held the bridge of his nose.

“Has this guy been bothering you all this time?”

Nicholas shrugged, hands still in his pockets. “Kinda. Throws things at me. I figured he’d be coming after you with some kind of plan but it looks like that was just another wild tantrum and frankly I’m a little let down.”

“Hey!” Yethmon squirmed at the insult, but Liopramon dropped him and put a boot against his throat, folding his arms and focusing his entire attention on Nicholas.

“You’re a sturdy one. Let me get this straight; you’re not with those porridge-eating clowns that go round messing everything up?”

Nicholas placed a finger on his lips. “Not really, I guess. I know them. But I don’t do any of that stuff. They don’t let me.”

“Do you want to?”

“Pardon?”

The gang looked in puzzlement among themselves as Liopramon’s hand drifted over his jacket. “I said do you want to. Not faff around with that lot, but you know. Hang around with Digimon. Give us power. Y’know.” He rolled his boot back and forth. “All the things that would really annoy this guy.”

Yethmon’s eyes widened, and he struggled against the ground, trying and failing to attack Liopramon’s feet through the thick leather boots. “Don’t...you...dare...”

His eyes flew back towards Nicholas, but the boy wasn’t looking at him. He folded his arms, and nudged his glasses up with a thumb.

“...I’m listening...”

Liopramon pushed his lips out. He flicked open the top button of his jacket, and gently pulled out a small, grey device, waving it back and forth in his hands. “Do you know what this is?”

Nicholas gave an uncertain gesture. “Not really. I know the others use it with their own Digimon.”

“It’s an interesting thing, isn’t it...” Liopramon grinned toothily, rolling the device over his fingers. “The power of evolution in a pocket-sized device. None of us know how it works. None of us would dare ask. But I know Digimon who would kill for this.” He nodded at the young man. “Kill for someone like you.”

Nicholas swallowed. “Why me?”

“Come on now. You said you were interested, right? How’d you like your very own Digimon partner? Sciamon and the folks wouldn’t approve. And Rhyncomon’s still sore from when he tried to own a human being. So s’far as I see it, there’s a gap in the market. And I’m a gambling ‘mon.”

He ground his foot down, causing Yethmon to whimper, as he clutched the device in his hands. “Of course, if yer not interested, then well...I’m afraid we can’t have any witnesses now, can we?”

Nicholas felt a tingling sensation behind him, aware of Alraumon and Suricamon standing behind him, claws and shovel at the ready. The others had circled around as well, blocking off Nicholas’s means of escape. The young man smirked.

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“It’s an easy choice, son.”

“I never said it wasn’t...”

Liopramon’s eyes sparkled, as Nicholas stuck his hands in his pockets. “What’s in it for you, then?”

“What?”

The boy pressed his glasses up. “Names? Addresses? Family members, maybe. I know a lot of interesting things and a lot of interesting people. I’m sure it’s all stuff that would be very helpful to you. If you’re willing to make it worth my while.”

The leprechaun hummed. “Are you sure you can offer that much?”

Nicholas glanced around, taking in the looks of the Digimon around him. Simeamon was still held in Troopmon’s grasp, giving him angry glares. But not as much as Yethmon, whose gaze was venomous beneath Liopramon’s crushing boot. Nicholas held out his hand.

“I’m a gambling man myself. I don’t have much else worth living for. And if the other tamers won’t invite me in, then I need to find my own way. I’m owed that much.”

He stretched his hand out, beckoning slightly with his fingers. Liopramon leant backwards slightly, keeping the device away from the boy’s grasp. Nicholas stared at the leprechaun.

“Can you afford not to have me?”

Liopramon’s smile looked slightly strained for a couple of seconds. Then, he reached forwards, and gently placed the blank D-SEND in the young man’s palm. Nicholas held his hand out, feeling the light weight of the grey device.

He smiled, and pulled it in, but all of a sudden felt a series of prongs in his back as Alraumon and Suricamon dug in; not hard enough to break the skin, but only barely. Liopramon looked at both of them in turn, before staring up at the boy.

“You have thirty seconds. Evolve me. Give me power, right now.”

“Not one for playing the trust game then, are we?”

“You heard.”

Nicholas looked down at the device in his palm, with its pale, white colour and an almost plasma-like shimmer behind its screen. He ran a finger over the wheel, but it made no difference to the picture on the screen. Nicholas pressed his lips together, running a thumb over the domed screen.

The pointed objects dug in further, and he felt his upper arms being held back. There was a flash of gold, and a coin shot past his hand, breaking the skin lightly and drawing blood. Liopramon leant forwards, flicking several coins between his fingers.

“Now look here, see, I don’t appreciate having my time wasted. If you can’t work it, I’ll find someone who can. You say you know the tamers, right? Do you actually know anything about what they do?”

Nicholas’s eyes were practically blank as he gently edged his hands together, the plasma within the device flickering as the blood fell from his wound, trickling over the device in scratchy, branch-like patterns.

“I’ve seen enough.”

Without warning, he slammed his hands together, cracking his palm against the dome. There was an explosion of white noise, shooting out amongst all around. Liopramon lost his balance, releasing pressure with his boot. Fury flashed across his face as he raised five coins, but Yethmon suddenly shifted beneath him, spinning his body around and slashing across the leprechaun’s thigh.

“Rabid Ripper!”

Liopramon howled, and Yethmon brought his paw up, slamming it into the fae’s bearded jaw. Liopramon went down, but the hound was already running, twisting on his heels and rushing towards Nicholas with venom in his eyes.

“You filthy sellout! You’ll pay for that! I trusted...you...”

He skidded to a halt, his eyes widening as he saw the expression in Nicholas’s face. Alraumon still had him bound, but he didn’t seem to feel the pain, as a dusting of red lights spun up and down and all around his body. The D-SEND in his hand was vibrating, the matt grey lacquer giving way to vivid white, with red scratches etched into the body. There were red lights dancing around the screen as well, swirling and growing in brightness, with a muffled whistle like a computer that hadn’t been activated in years. And the lights also danced in Nicholas’s glasses, making the look in his eyes near incomprehensible. The young man smiled.

“That’s always a poor decision, frankly. Partner.”

Yethmon’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t...”

“Let’s just hope you’re ready for this kind of power.”

Yethmon took a step back, with every muscle in his body screaming at him to run.

But he didn’t.

He just stared, in awe, and in horror, at the scarlet supernova pulsing before him, and the unflinching guise of the young man within.

“Yethmon...Soul Accelerate!”

The red mist exploded outwards, blasting Alraumon away from Nicholas and forcing the gang backwards. Yethmon didn’t even have time to blink before the particles spun forwards, spreading out like a spider’s web as they engulfed him. From off to one side, Simeamon managed to get to her feet, catching her breath as she watched the light show.

“Holy shit...”

“Evolution Activate!”

Yethmon wriggled, pawing at the cocoon of energy as the rings of light began to spin around him. They moved jerkily at first, twisting and scraping at the particles, and the hound’s cries of anguish broke through the net on several occasions. But despite the rough start the lights remained bright, spinning faster and faster until the hound’s body was a still blurred silhouette. And the lights began to rise, twisting and stretching his form into something larger, and more humanoid. Then, as if it had hit an obstacle, the spire of red light jerked and scattered, blowing away and revealing the new Digimon, standing at an awkward angle as he tried to orientate himself.

Nicholas whistled, and reached out with a hand, only to yell as a blast of golden pellets shot past his arm, slicing through the cloth and skin. He held it close to him, dropping the D-SEND as Liopramon stepped forwards. The leprechaun wasn’t smiling.

“Sad t’say, I think you missed.”

Nicholas grimaced. “Whoops.”

Liopramon’s hands were brimming with coins as his eyes flashed maliciously. “Now what do you see we rewind all this and actually do this prop hurgh-“

An arm shot out, grabbing the leprechaun around the throat and lifting him clean off the ground. The imp struggled, as the new Digimon turned him around, staring into his face with a pair of bright red eyes.

Yethmon had grown considerably; a humanoid stature standing at over six foot tall. His poncho had grown a little, resting over his shoulders and trailing out into a ragged brown cape, while the rest of his body was clothed in garments of black and crimson and grey, with belts and buckles over his arms and chest. Beneath the cloak, Liopramon could see two belts around his midriff, with holsters either side carrying two ebony-handled daggers, and a pair of black metal pistols. He wore high boots, the toes of which were broken open to reveal savage wolf-like claws. A rough tail swung lazily back and forth on the ground.

The new Digimon narrowed his eyes; the only part of his face that was visible, above the cloth facemask that fluttered behind him, and the three-pronged hat that shaded his face from the moonlight. Nonetheless, Liopramon was very aware of the low, rumbling growl emanating in the bandit’s throat.

“Highwaymon...”

Liopramon coughed. All his emotions seemed to have dried up and his sense of self-preservation had very much returned as he looked into the eyes of the deeply pissed-off creature in front of him.

“...I feel like I never congratulated...you properly...”

Highwaymon didn’t give him an answer. He just raised a clawed hand, with metallic greaves fitted over the fingers, and slowly curled them up into a jagged fist, all the while never taking his eyes off the squirming fae. Liopramon gave a twisted smile.

“...can we talk about this?”

BLAM

Highwaymon’s fist moved so fast there was barely even a blur, and Liopramon went flying backwards, crashing into a litter bin with a woof. Highwaymon rolled his shoulders, and flicked his hand back and forth.

“Consider that a consultation.”

“Nemesis Ivy!”

A spray of vines came out from the side, and Highwaymon looked back to see Alraumon now advancing on him, her eyes small and beady. “Hypocrite. As soon as you get your own little power boost you’re turning on us all. You don’t deserve that power.”

Highwaymon looked down at her, his eyes betraying little emotion. From behind him he could hear the flutter of Kokabuterimon’s wings, and the little scraping of Hyokomon’s sword. Suricamon had already climbed up a lamppost, gripping her shovel and grinding her teeth.

“The big guy didn’t die to let you do this! Devilish Digger!”

She screamed, and leapt from the pole, holding her shovel behind her in an attempt to brain the bandit. But he ducked as she swung, his cloak coming up in a flashy feint. Even from beneath his cloak he could see the others closing in, and he threw his arm round, sending waves of motion over towards Alraumon. She stumbled, and Highwaymon span, bringing the cords up in front of Hyokomon’s descending dagger. They were severed, and Highwaymon ducked down, sweeping out with a leg and knocking the tiny bird away.

“Don’t bully her! Scoop Smash!”

Kokabuterimon descended with an angry buzz, his horn aiming for Highwaymon’s throat. But the bandit rose up, holding his hand in a clawed palm and cracking it into the insect’s torso. The impact sent both of them reeling back, but Highwaymon didn’t have time to react before Suricamon scurried up his leg, cracking her shovel against his upper arm. He bent over, his cloak billowing out as the four closed in again.

Liopramon shook his head as he picked himself up from in front of the bin. He saw the cloaked figure ducking down in front of him, with the four active members of the gang wearing him down. Only Troopmon still stood to one side, holding Simeamon in a vice-grip as she continued to struggle.

Liopramon huffed, and raised a glove, coins appearing from between the fingers like magic.

“That’s the way, my clan.”

He squinted, holding out his hand as the golden coins rippled, glowing with mystical energy as they locked onto their target. The leprechaun sneered.

“It’s payday, bitch.”

“Purgatory Pistols!”

A blast of red shot out of nowhere, and Liopramon howled as his coins scattered everywhere. He looked at his gloved hand and suddenly became very well aware of the large hole that had appeared in the middle of his palm, dripping blood on the concrete below.

He screamed; a harrowing squeal of pain and shock which stopped everyone in their tracks. Highwaymon still remained in the centre of the throng, his cloak held over his head. But from beneath one of the flaps of fabric there was a faint trail of smoke, coming from the barrel of the pistol that he held in his armoured claw.

He stood up, revealing the weapon in full as he pulled the catch back with a click. There was a scuffle from behind him as Suricamon scrambled for her shovel, but Highwaymon moved quickly, drawing a second pistol and firing in front of her. There was a terrifying blast of red, and the concrete exploded outwards, sending the buckled shovel skittering away. Everybody stopped. Everybody stared, as Highwaymon’s breath came out in clouds.

“I have fond memories of you all. I don’t have any issues with you leaving. It was fair enough. I was a prick to you all and I was holding you back. So because of that, I was being kind. However...”

He reached out with both thumbs, and pulled the catches on both weapons back, the ends glowing red.

“My kindness has run out. I never want to see you again. No second chances.”

His eyes flicked towards Liopramon, the red light dancing in his pupils. For a moment Liopramon quailed. Then he swallowed, stood up straight and pulled his jacket back in, ignoring the blood splattering onto his boots.

“We’re leaving. We’re done here.”

Alraumon and Suricamon looked at one another. “But-“

“No arguments. Go.”

The gang regrouped around the leprechaun, and they rushed backwards, with Troopmon bounding after them and bringing up the rear. Liopramon looked behind him, pointing at the bandit.

“I’ll see you again, backstabbing prick!”

Highwaymon didn’t lower his arms. He just stared, watching calmly until the group turned the corner, disappearing back into the shadows.

“You were all warned.”

“Well...”

Highwaymon’s eyes flicked sideways as Nicholas walked forwards, his hands behind his back as he admired the hound’s new form. “That’s quite something. Not what I expected. But certainly well worth it. You must be very proud.”

Highwaymon’s eyes closed, his cloak blowing in the breeze as he looked down.

“...I didn’t ask for this...”

Click.

Nicholas stopped in his tracks, pulling his feet together as Highwaymon straightened out an arm towards the boy, the barrel of his pistol rising until it was pointed towards Nicholas’s forehead.

“I didn’t ask for you.”

Nicholas pushed his glasses up. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

“I’ve never had power like this before.” Highwaymon’s eyes flashed. “I have it now. There’s nothing more I need you for. I can go my own way. There’s no reason for me to stay with you.”

“I’m sure there isn’t.”

“Stop smiling like that.”

Highwaymon’s finger curled round, gently touching the end of the trigger as he held it, unflinchingly, out towards Nicholas.

“I could wipe that smile away right now. I don’t owe you anything. I warned you as much. You did this to me...you can face the consequences.”

Nicholas closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were dull. As impenetrable as Highwaymon’s own expression.

“Go ahead then. You don’t need me? Want me? Show me.”

He stepped forwards, and Highwaymon stiffened his arm. But Nicholas didn’t stop. He raised his arms, and gripped the bandit’s wrist, before slowly bringing his head forwards, resting his forehead on the very tip of the gun barrel. It was freezing cold. The metal irritated his skin. But he didn’t move, just holding his position and staring up at Highwaymon with a smile on his face.

“Prove it to me. I dare you.”

There was barely any sound. Only a gentle whispering breeze playing through the buildings, as the boy and the bandit held their positions unflinchingly.

Without even a breath, Highwaymon pulled his arm back, flicking the release on the pistol.

“You’re a troubling person, Nicholas.”

“Nothing so dramatic.” The boy pulled out the collar of his jacket, sniffing. “I’m just a gambling man. Partner.”

He turned around, and nodded towards the nearby lamppost. “You still here? I thought you’d have scarpered by now.”

Highwaymon’s eyes flicked over, but he didn’t respond as Simeamon gently stepped out, sticking her laser back into her holster. Her face was calm, but her eyes were circled with purple, giving away far more emotion than she wanted.

“Glad to see you’ve done well for yourselves.”

She held back a little, seeing the pair’s expressions in shadow. Then Nicholas turned his head, and smiled warmly.

“We probably have a few kinks to work out.”

Simeamon gave a curtsey. “I’ll let you get on with that then.”

“Wait...”

The monkey turned, looking back as Nicholas held out a palm.

“Can I ask a favour? Can you keep this from the others, for now, please? Especially Grace.”

The monkey looked coy for a second. Then she nodded grimly.

“If you do a favour for me as well.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t tell anyone you saw me. Especially Owen. Please don’t tell Owen.” Simeamon held her arm, her eyelashes flickering. “I need a...bit of...space...”

Nicholas looked down at the monkey, watching her expression change behind her visor. She looked expectantly at him, almost pleadingly, until he raised a thumb to acknowledge her.

Then she nodded, and quickly scooted back into the shadows, her long tail bobbing behind her. Nicholas sighed, putting his hands in his pockets as Highwaymon stood alongside him.

“So does this deal mean I need to be nice to those dorks now?”

“Most of the time.”

“Fuck.”

“You and me both. I did figure that they actually knew what they were doing beforehand. Now I’m not so sure.”

Nicholas sighed, rubbing his jaw as he spun the new white and red D-SEND in his hand.

“This is going to be tricky...”

“I can’t believe we lost that.”

Alraumon huffed, her vines snaking up her forearms in a distressed manner as she vented pollen from the top of her head. “’Follow me’, you said. ‘It’s gonna be a cinch’, you said. ‘I’m not gonna fuck this up again’, you said.”

Liopramon looked over his shoulder, his eyebrows crossed in a nasty glare. “I’d appreciate it if you could back off with the running commentary, you know. You guys didn’t exactly help.”

“You told us to retreat!”

“I didn’t vouch on Jimbo Pistols showing up.”

“That was your fault as well. Why didn’t you ditch that goddamn device when you had the chance?”

The leprechaun blew a raspberry. “It was a gamble. I messed it up. Seems to be happening a lot around here.”

He closed his eyes, before his eyes started twitching as he became aware of a snickering voice in his ear. He threw a glance at the giggling Kankomon beside him, and flicked a coin, the gold piercing through the beast’s ear and making it dissipate. There was a tutting noise, and Reynarimon tiptoed forwards, holding a pipe in one hand and a vape in the other, releasing a variety of smoky sculptures above his head as he hummed in a satisfied manner.

“No need to be so touchy, my little faerie companion. We’re all friends here. Friends forgive each others’ little failures all the time, you know that.”

The gang growled, all tensing as the fox wandered closer. Liopramon raised two fingers on his injured hand, with a stack of golden coins growing between them.

“D’you have any business with us in particular, you fuzzy-faced coward? Because I am liable to remove whatever testicle-material that waxy cretin Rhyncomon left you with and tie it around your neck in a nice fetching bow.”

Reynarimon stopped, his head swaying from the mixture of gases currently pulsing through it. Liopramon snorted. “Where is that thievin’ magpie, anyway?”

Reynarimon placed a tentative finger on the end of his mask. Then he pointed over the fae’s shoulder.

“He was invited as well, I believe...”

Alraumon gave Liopramon a concerned look, which he countered with a sigh. “Oh christ...”

“I hope you’re doing well.”

The leprechaun raised both palms, and turned round with a twisted smile on his face, trying to resist the temptation to cross all his fingers. “Boss, now, I have to say, we managed to face something slightly unexpected and frankly I don’t have the spare fingers to offer you in terms of penance this time-“

“Leave it.”

Liopramon winced. Then he slowly opened his eyes, looking up at the bird man as he stood completely still up above, resting a shoulder on the chain-link fence. If anybody had been looking closely at him, they may have noticed the lines of stress around his eyes; signs of a few very bad arguments with certain clients.

Rhyncomon shot a glance down towards the leprechaun, muttering under his breath.

“We’ve all had a rough time of it of late. We have bigger priorities.”

“We most certainly do, dearest provider of the greatest cause.”

Rhyncomon’s eye twitched almost audibly, to the point where the entirety of Liopramon’s gang took a step back. But they too looked up at the moonlit mound, with Reynarimon standing behind them, hiccupping a little.

They watched, silent and troubled, as a selection of Digimon stepped out. Well, in truth, only two actually stepped; Cho-Hakkaimon in her usual clumping manner, and Oryxmon in a more subdued one. Pteroimon took the lead with his usual flamboyant swirling and swishing and winking at the motley crew in front of him.

“Am I to assume that the truly revolting losses you have all suffered of late have served to change your mind in regard to the coming of the saviour? Will you pledge your fealty to us?”

There was a grinding of steel as Rhyncomon’s hand flicked outwards, revealing some of his sword blade. He clicked his beak. “I thought I made it very clear to Sciamon that I don’t work for him. I don’t serve any of you-“

Shnk

Pteroimon’s spines lashed out towards the samurai in a split second, but within another second they were lying in pieces on the ground, as the sword returned to its scabbard. The flying fish and the magpie man glared at one another, with the others watching in stupor. Pteroimon backed off a bit, shaking out some of his loose spines.

“It seems to me that you have rather let us down on the promise of your abilities. Far be it for me to accuse you, of course. But then again, the woman you promised you had under your control is currently standing against us.” The fish cooed, his eyes flicking towards Liopramon. “As is a complete bystander and your previous leader. Surely I don’t have to explain that this doesn’t actually help the cause.”

Liopramon stood in a glum fashion, while Reynarimon giggled behind him, getting higher by the minute in a desperate attempt to escape attention and responsibility. Only Rhyncomon remained unmoved, as he sheathed his sword fully and placed his hands behind his back.

“My Kokuwamon are doing as you have asked. I don’t break my promises. Your group will have the armaments you need.”

Cho-Hakkaimon looked down at Oryxmon with a vicious grin, where the goat simply nodded. Pteroimon floated amicably. “I’m glad to hear it. And for yourself?”

“What is there to do? All we have is a date.”

“The tamers have many abilities. And the human pestilence themselves are likely gathering their own armies.” Pteroimon looped round, touching a spine to his engorged lips. “Rest assured; we have plenty of ways to prepare. We are working throughout this city to clear the way as we speak.” He raised a frilled eyebrow. “But we would always welcome further assistance...”

Rhyncomon snorted. “You’ve already got everything you need from me. I’m only after that woman’s head. Do as you will.”

“Are you sure?”

“Take Reynarimon if you must. But I’m not for sale.”

Reynarimon squeaked a little at the mention of his name.

“Wait...what?"

He turned to face the magpie, but Rhyncomon was already walking away, his wings flicking behind him like a cape. The Kankomon gathered around him instinctively as Pteroimon floated a little closer. Liopramon gathered the gang behind him, edging into a group as he looked up at the lionfish.

“What about us? We don’t work for him anymore.”

“Can you offer any resource, any knowledge, any wondrous new tactic?”

Liopramon looked amongst the gang, who all offered several different flavours of nope. The leprechaun raised a hand, producing a pitiful little handful of gold as he smiled his sweetest smile. Pteroimon returned the favour.

“In which case, you will be offering us your untainted assistance in the form of your numbers.”

He swooped low, grinning into the leprechaun’s nervous face.

“I do so look forward to having you help us...”

Simeamon pulled the rough cloth around her shoulders as she walked forwards. Her foot hit the ground awkwardly, and she stumbled, a spasm of pain shooting up the side of her leg. She rested her mitten against the open wound, and winced. Life as a lone rider had its challenges. Especially when you’d made a name for yourself being so...well...annoying to everyone beforehand.

Still...at least she could vouch for her own safety.

Sort of.

She shivered, and carried on, keeping low as she snuck further into the night. The faint mist had now gone, and the night was now quite warm, and devilishly quiet. She climbed up a drainpipe and sat down on top of the roof of an old schoolhouse. She stayed seated there, catching her breath with her tail flicking behind her. The stars were quite visible above her, and she lay back, holding her arms behind her head, and admiring the view.

From behind a gym storehouse, a pair of burning red eyes watched the monkey’s faint silhouette atop the roof, as she stretched, and turned over onto her side, the last of her lights flickering down to standby mode. The eyes blinked, well accustomed to seeing in the dark.

Their owner didn’t move. He just watched, resting his head on his front paws as the stars twinkled above.

07:03:25:02