Blazing orange. Roaring and rippling. Blinding. Deafening. Shaking them to the very core.

The shockwave rang through the control room, sending everybody flying backwards into equipment and control desks. They held onto whatever, and whoever they could for dear life. Even MetalMamemon was knocked back, spinning through the air and crashing through a back wall like a cannonball.

There was a rush of air, as the slight vacuum of the gate room filled with atmosphere, and the sirens doubled in intensity. The tamers, the scientists, and Ceratomon all looked up at once, witnessing the true core of the facility. The vessel of the digital gate, uncovered and unguarded.

Inez pushed herself up, tiny cubes of bullet-proof glass falling from her back as she looked around. Ceratomon was crouching on the ground, trying to stand despite his arms completely giving way, as Mark knelt beside him, holding his head. Perez and Dominic were stood by the exit, trying to call anybody they could.

Inez felt somebody move beneath her, and knelt upright as Salma coughed up a cloud of dust, wiping some blood from her cheek.

“The gate...we...we promised...”

“That’s enough.” Inez shook her head, biting her lip. “Your lives come first. No matter what Alasdair said.”

“I hope I’m not too late.”

Inez’s eyes widened, and she turned to see the tiny, worn-out form of Syngnamon crawling towards her, dust in his mane and tears in his eyes. He held his head down, his arms shaking.

“I...I failed to protect you again...I should have been here...I should have-“

Inez reached out, and grabbed the seahorse, holding him close to her chest as she felt tears welling in her own cheeks. “Idiot,” she choked, half crying and half laughing, “what took you so long?”

The reunion was short-lived, as there was a sudden sickening clacking sound. MetalMamemon hovered forwards on wobbly jets, the blast having juddered through his internal circuitry. Down, momentarily, but far from out.

“My...my time has come...”

He hovered forwards, raising both arms as his cannon let off smoke, stuck in cool-down mode. His eyes flashed, reflecting the swirling form of the gate before him.

MetalMamemon ploughed forwards, reaching out and swinging his metal claw at one of the great arches. It shuddered with the impact, letting off a resonant hum, but remaining standing. Layers of tungsten and titanium withstood the blow. MetalMamemon hissed, and spun around again, hitting harder this time, but his feet were stumbling beneath him, the jets cutting out from being so close to the digital anomaly. Still, he came back a third time, taking off a panel with fire in his eyes. The gate archway was sturdy; strong enough to withstand an explosion. But it wouldn’t last forever.

Salma winced, pushing herself up to a sitting position as she watched the devastation. “Somebody...stop him...”

Syngnamon stared, still in Inez’s arms. But the girl stood up, ignoring the scrapes and bruises over her body as she faced the cyborg.

“He’s strong.”

Syngnamon snorted. “Too strong for me to handle on my own.”

Inez looked down at her partner. “Can you slow him down, at least?”

“For you?” Syngnamon leapt from the girl’s arms, and planted himself on the rubble-laden ground, his tail swinging from side to side.

“Of course I will.”

He leapt down, pawing against the ground as the lights began to dance around him. They reached back, circling around Inez’s bare arms, the energy flowing through her.

She shuddered. Her muscles tensed unconsciously. She could feel her heart beating in her throat, wanting to cry out in pain and fear.

But she swallowed it, and held up her D-SEND regardless, watching her partner – her knight – advanced towards his opponent.

Now was not the time to be afraid.

“Syngnamon, Soul Accelerate!”

“Kampoimon!”

With a mighty whinnying, the seahorse charged forwards, growing in an instant, with his spear trailing behind him. MetalMamemon turned, and pulled back as the blade shot upwards, aiming to take his cannon off. He swung around and spun, the arm connecting with Kampoimon’s helmet as the seahorse planted himself between the cyborg and the screaming vessel. MetalMamemon’s eyes flashed red, his teeth grinding together.

“You stand in the way of the inevitable. You’ll fail like all the rest of them.”

“Crushing Tide!”

Kampoimon ducked, before bringing his front hand up, water cascading from his body and knocking MetalMamemon away with an aquatic fist. The orb dove through, his claws glinting as he slashed against Kampoimon’s arm, leaving great, raking cuts. But Kampoimon barely even flinched, keeping himself in position as he swung with his spear.

“Maybe, but I won’t go down easily.”

“Energy Bomb!”

“Crushing Tide!”

As water and fire melded and the sounds of battle continued, Ceratomon pushed himself to his feet, his good eye trying to refocus on the battle ahead of him. Mark stood beside him, holding his hand against the dinosaur’s arm, running his fingers over the dents.

“Can you still fight?”

Ceratomon lowered his head. “Barely. Even if I can run I’ll only get a few more hits in.” He stared ahead, his vision going hazy. “I wish I was stronger...strong enough to make a difference. To change the things I’ve done...”

“You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Mark let out a low breath, and leant forwards, resting his head against his partner’s cold arm. Then he looked towards the battle himself, watching as Kampoimon struggled to keep MetalMamemon at bay, getting chipped away at himself. But he was succeeding, just. The cyborg was kept away from the gate, which remained steady within the archway. Inez and Salma stood to one side as the girl tended to the older woman’s wounds, while Dominic and Perez rushed forwards as well, throwing anything they could get their hands on in an effort to help.

“Everyone’s trying their best.” Mark smiled. “I guess none of us have any control whatsoever, do we?”

Ceratomon’s eye swivelled back, looking at his partner’s dishevelled face. “Not even your brother got that right. All we can do is keep fighting.”

“As long as we haven’t lost yet...”

Mark’s fist closed, and he reached for his D-SEND, feeling the light weight in his hands as he stepped away from his partner.

“It doesn’t matter how bad things get. Someone can always take a stand.” He held the device to his chest, feeling the pumping of his heart as the adrenaline rose within him. “And I’ll be damned if I’m not going to be standing up there with you all.”

With an almighty groan, Ceratomon’s shoulders rolled forwards, and he planted his knuckles against the ground, steam pouring from between his armour plate.

“Permission to keep going?”

Mark gave a hard smile, feeling the energy building within him.

“I’ll be right there with you.”

Ceratomon roared, his limbs pounding against the ground as he began to charge. The pistons and gears in his arms were on fire, and his internal pressure dug into every muscle in his body. But as he kept running, he felt his drive increasing further. A shining energy cloaked the front of his body as he snorted, aiming directly for MetalMamemon.

“I’m not finished YET! SILVER SIEGE!”

The dinosaur crashed through the broken window and slammed into MetalMamemon before he knew what had hit him, sending him spiralling away and crashing into the far wall. Ceratomon skidded to a stop, but the glow around his body didn’t subside, only glowing brighter and more intense. He looked behind him, seeing a breathless Kampoimon standing in front of the gate.

“Thanks for your help. You kept him at bay.”

Kampoimon stepped back, his eyes reflecting the giant’s shimmering form. “Do you need me to join you?”

Ceratomon’s eye focused, and he looked forwards as MetalMamemon pulled at the panels around him, trying to free himself from the impact zone. The dinosaur breathed out, his armour plating rattling.

“You might want to stand back instead...”

Inez pulled Salma back, watching as her partner stepped away from the dinosaur, whose entire body was now vibrating. The girl looked over at Mark as he stepped forwards, a purple grid enveloping his arm. The boy had his head down, and his eyes focused forwards, concentrating entirely on his partner.

“No matter what, I will stand with you.”

Mark pulled his arm back, data spiralling out from beneath his jacket as the screen on his D-SEND glowed intensely. In front of him the sheen extended to his partner’s entire body as Ceratomon began to bend down, his mighty arms splaying.

I’ll stand with all of you.

“Ceratomon, Soul Reverberate!”

With an almighty yell, Mark thrust his arm forwards, energy cascading from his arm in great, piercing spears. They struck his partner, spreading across the sheen as he stepped back further, his entire body quaking and rattling, being pulled from the ground by the immense force surrounding him. His eyes glowed brightly, and his hands reached out, clenching as pistons snapped all up his arms. The sound was intense, the incessant sirens being drowned out by the immense rush of energy swirling around the mighty creature. Only Mark stayed where he was, his ponytail whipping back and forth as he gripped his D-SEND tightly.

“Evolution Activate!”

Ceratomon staggered, his body glimmering and breaking apart as the data tore at him. Great panels of steel were ripped from his back, his arms and his face, splintering into fragments that swirled around him, until he was left as a glowing shape surrounded by the spinning accessories. He crouched down, and began to grow. And grow. Mark backed away as the shape ballooned in front of him, reaching the size of a bus, and still growing. And as it did so, the fragments of armour began to fly back in, morphing and twisting into new shapes, piercing the glowing form and pressing it into something completely new. Eventually they were all pushing inwards, purple plates on an intense white light, locking together, containing something...something powerful.

The light dissipated, and the new creature fell to earth. It only fell a few feet, but it hit the ground with an almighty crunch, its feet making dents in the concrete below.

The dinosaur was huge; taking up a good third of the chamber. Due to his bulk he was rested on four pillar-like legs, with spiked feet and a series of pistons reaching to his elbows and knee joints. His main torso was an odd triangular shape; made up of huge armoured plates and a series of half domes, with a chain stretching out of a barrel behind him and curving into a huge chunk of metal on the centre of his back. The whole assembly made him look like a battering ram, and the faint whirring of wheels and mechanisms inside the fortress-like shell betrayed the complexity within the geometric body.

Only his head was even vaguely animalian; the white, curved skull-like visage of a ceratopsian, with iron spikes pointing out in place of horns, and a series of levers splayed around the back like a frill. Although even this was mechanised, as through the holes in the skull there could be seen meshing gears and twisting ratchets, along with a large flywheel poking out from the centre of his forehead.

The dinosaur raised his head, the dark gauzes over his eye sockets flickering into life with large, oval pupils.

“Titaniumon!”

Mark whistled, feeling the ground tremble as the huge beast stepped backwards, watching the far side of the gate chamber as his huge plates clicked together. Mark placed a hand to his chin.

“This looks a little uneven.”

“Thy struggle is in vain! The pathway will be opened!”

Titaniumon tensed, watching as MetalMamemon wrenched his body away from the wall, dust flying off from around him. He stared down the huge dinosaur, his feet humming as the energy struggled to keep him afloat. Titaniumon lowered his head.

“Leave. Now. This place is protected.”

MetalMamemon laughed, placing his claw against his own head. “Thou art just another obstacle. I will not be quenched.”

He staggered forwards, throwing his cannon outwards as the outer rings spin viciously. Mark took a step forwards, but Titaniumon’s pupil swung backwards, looking him in the eye.

“I’d get everyone clear if I were you.”

“Hey!” Salma’s voice echoed through as she hung over Inez’s shoulder, pointing at the dinosaur. “Don’t break any more of my stuff!”

“On the contrary...I’m here to fix it.”

Mark swallowed and backed away, joining Inez and the three scientists as they stayed a long distance from the dinosaur. With a great groaning heave, Titaniumon lifted up, and the plates shuddered on his back as he reared on his hind legs. The onlookers could see mechanisms twisting around inside his shell, the great barrels on his back pointing downwards. He opened his mouth, a mechanical roar escaping from inside as he descended.

“Fortress Quake!”

The ground shuddered as he landed; a shockwave first, then a vast ringing as plates and spears shot down into the ground, splaying out from his broad feet and rising up in vast spikes.

The tamers and the scientists covered their eyes, dust and rubble razed into the air around them.

Then the shaking stopped, and they looked up. Titaniumon was turning round, moving one foot at a time in a deliberate, but not unsteady manner. The shattered concrete that he had stood on was now a web of metal; a lattice formed from the spikes he had unleashed from his internal generator. And they rose up, and formed an interlocking pyramid around the archway beyond. The gate was there; still standing, still stable, and guarded once again.

Mark gave a whistle, placing one hand on his hip. “I’ll be damned...that was neatly done.”

There came a cough from beside him as Dominic fiddled with his fingers. “We still have quite a big problem left over though...”

This hadn’t escaped Titaniumon’s attention, as he now stood, legs splayed, and facing down the tiny orb. MetalMamemon’s eyes were wide, something ticking dangerously inside him as he hissed in fury.

“My mission...my quest...thou must be the apex...I shall not fail...I shall not falter now!”

Without warning he raised his cannon, the orange glow having built up to a vast level, and held it directly to Titaniumon’s forehead.

“Energy Bomb!”

Titaniumon ducked, but was incapable of dodging as the blast struck him straight and true. He roared, driven back by the intense blast as the fire scorched his head and shell, denting one of his spikes. His eyes flickered as he stared forwards through the flames, watching as MetalMamemon hung slightly lopsided in front of him, the energy affecting his flight path. Titaniumon laughed.

“Thanks for that.”

MetalMamemon squinted. “Thy words are meaningless. The quest is final.”

“Oh, I’d gotten that far,” replied the dinosaur in a friendly manner, as the plates on his shell opened up fully like a flower, revealing the mechanisms and the many, many barrels beneath. His flywheel whirred, transferring energy to every wheel within his vast body, and making the ground vibrate.

“See, the thing you fail to realise is, behind you? I’ve already wrecked that bit.”

MetalMamemon turned slightly, eyes flicking backwards to see the ruined, and completely empty, control room behind him, with the light of the morning sky poking through from beyond. The thoughts of the quest subsided just for a split second, enough for him to turn back and realise that Titaniumon had reared up onto his hind legs, with all of the dozens of barrels in his body primed directly towards him.

“Fortress Quake!”

MetalMamemon shot sideways, but Titaniumon’s body descended with a crack as he pressed against the ground. On impact, his entire body exploded with projectiles once again; cannonballs, spears and spikes, all flying outwards in a tidal wave of lethal, interlocking steel. MetalMamemon was lost in the torrent, and despite his speed he was sent spinning by a lance before catching a direct hit from an iron sphere, sending him spiralling backwards through the control room and out into the sunshine beyond.

The deadly shower subsided, and the cyborg repositioned himself, eyes spinning in his sockets. His claw was buckled, and one of his feet was blowing energy in spurts, preventing him from gaining height. Trapped this low to the ground, he could feel the vibrations growing again, and spinning around he saw Titaniumon bearing down upon him, feet pounding against the ground as he moved at a terrifying pace. The shell was still open, and every pound of the dinosaur’s feet against the ground sent yet more projectiles flying forwards, like an unstoppable siege engine.

Not that MetalMamemon was at all fazed by the onslaught, as he raised his cannon arm, the rings already spinning and the power reaching critical level.

“Energy Bomb!”

The blast hit Titaniumon square in the head once again, and the dinosaur stumbled, pawing against the ground and veering wide from the cyborg. MetalMamemon staggered a little, a grin plastered over his face, but the grin was soon wiped away as a huge morningstar flew past him, sending him spinning again. Titaniumon looked back, the great mace swinging around from the barrel on his tail, being guided expertly from the mechanisms within. And as the dinosaur turned, so the chain spun faster, the great barrel twisting upwards and revving up to a frightening speed. Soon the mace became a grey blur as it swung around the dinosaur’s body, forming an impenetrable shield...and a devastating attack barrier.

“Gyro Juggernaut!”

MetalMamemon raised his cannon, but it was still smoking, the previous assault having affected its charge time. He flung himself sideways as Titaniumon advanced again, only just avoiding the deadly spinning field. But though the momentum kept the dinosaur going, the barrel tilted to one side, pulling him around in an instant as the barrier dug against the rubble, flinging up a cloud of dust. Soon he was charging again, as flywheels descended from below his shell, taking up the task of his legs and turning him into a living tank.

The spinning barrier swung by MetalMamemon again, the air currents sending him spinning through the air. Titaniumon veered round again, turning in an instant and barrelling forwards. But he missed again, the mace instead tilting sideways and powering into the ground, sending up walls of rubble and shards of rock. They flew into the cyborg, blinding his vision and clogging up his own circuitry, as Titaniumon travelled in smaller and smaller circles around him, trapping him in a column of biting earth.

In a last, desperate move, MetalMamemon held his cannon straight down, the glow growing unevenly at the end.

“We will never falter! We will never-“

He never finished, as Titaniumon turned tightly, ploughing right into the tornado of dust. MetalMamemon barely had time to see the skull-like face before the mace struck him dead in the side. He was pulled into the deadly vortex, the chain and spikes wrenching against his body with a sickening crunch, his vision blotted out by dust and failing lenses. Then, suddenly, sunlight again, as he was thrown outwards, careering at a ferocious speed into the ground, like a meteorite crashing to earth.

MetalMamemon coughed, and tried to raise his cannon arm, but for some reason it wasn’t there. One of his eyes wasn’t working. His head was splitting from where its helmet had been buckled completely inwards. It wasn’t used to feeling pain like this.

The sound of whirring dulled, and as he looked up with its one remaining eye, he saw Titaniumon walk into view, his mace-like tail back in place as if nothing had happened.

The dinosaur looked down at the tiny cyborg. If his face had let him, he would have grimaced at the sight. Silvery dust was already leaking into the earth. But MetalMamemon smiled nonetheless, perhaps betraying a different past to the life it now led, and was now dying for.

“You’ll never...hold it closed...forever...”

“We’ll manage as long as we can.”

“The path will...open...”

MetalMamemon coughed, a silver streak falling from his mouth. Titaniumon sighed, and raised a foot, placing it over the orb’s tiny body.

“You can rest now.”

He pressed down, with only the slightest click. When he raised his foot again, there was nothing beneath but a smear of quicksilver and a few shards of steel. Titaniumon sighed, and looked over at the gate, the alarms still sounding after all this time.

“This isn’t going to end well for any of us...”

Inez gently shuffled up to Perez as her aunt talked on the phone, before quickly hanging up. The girl held her shoulder, having wrenched it somewhere when running through the facility.

“Who was that?”

Perez turned back, and placed a hand on her niece’s shoulder. “Just Alasdair. Just to let him know that we’re all okay.” She winced. “Well...’okay’ is such a strong word...”

Inez looked behind her, mainly at where Salma was staring into the middle distance, her expression all too obvious as she looked at the current state of all her stuff. The tamer tapped her fingers together.

“I hope you didn’t lose too much...”

“We’ll manage. The gate’s still upright, thanks to you. And we keep backups, so we haven’t lost anything urgent, I don’t think. Provided Dominic hasn’t managed to drop the hard drive again.”

There was an offended gasp from nearby, and the ponytailed scientist turned round, waving it in his hand. “That was one time. Can I get a little respect please?”

Perez smiled, but Inez still didn’t look certain. She held an arm around herself, feeling the thin card of whatever she’d managed to pick up pressing against her. But before she could say anything her aunt leant forwards, giving her a hug.

“As I said; we can make do. You managed to save us. That’s the main thing.” She leant back, and smiled, slightly uncertainly. “I’m glad...well...it’s nice that you’re back in the game again. Considering...you know...what happened-“

Inez held up a palm, pushing Perez’s hand from her shoulder as she returned the kind expression.

“I have a job, just like you do. I need to do it as well as I can.”

Something nudged her leg, and she looked down to see Syngnamon, looking slightly embarrassed. She bent down, and held him in her arms.

“We all do.”

Perez smiled sadly, before Dominic called her away, heading towards the recovery vehicles with anything they could salvage. Inez wandered back, seeing Mark looking out across the ruined site. Chromon was sat beside him, his frill looking slightly dented but on the whole not too bad. Inez pushed her lips out as she approached the taller boy.

“That could have gone better...”

Mark let out a breath, and turned to look at the young woman. There seemed to be less lines on his face than usual, expression calm and nuanced.

“Eh...it could also have gone worse. Sometimes you need to take the wins where you can get them.”

He coughed, and his face went ever so slightly flushed. “Thank you for your help. You did really well today.”

“Aw...”

Inez grinned, and playfully nudged him in the side. “Look who’s growing as a person.”

There was a groan beside them, as Chromon planted his head in his front paw. “P-p-please don’t undo it all...”

Mark rolled his eyes, before looking across the ruined ground, with the gate facility still glowing slightly in the middle distance. Inez looked between him and the gate, still held in its new silver cage, before she nudged him. “Come on. We’ve already seen enough of this place. We should go before we’re evicted.”

“Yes, I know...”

Mark turned around, his coat billowing out behind him as Chromon trotted by his side.

“Although I have a weird feeling that we’re going to be back here very soon...”

Inez rubbed her eyes as she swung her door closed, leaving just her bedside lamp casting its dim light around her. She looked at the end of her room, where Syngnamon was curled up in the bottom of his fishtank. She smiled. She had to admit, for the longest time, the room hadn’t felt complete without him.

Her face turned to a frown, and she kicked off her slippers, pulling herself under the covers. Slowly she reached underneath her pillow, pulling out a green cardboard folder, with a series of documents inside. It had weighed on her all the way home, and on arriving she’d promptly put it out of sight, not wanting to alarm her parents.

For a moment she stared at the blank cover, the warm light providing her no comfort. She considered just putting it away, passing it back to Alasdair, to her aunt, to anybody.

But as her curiosity got the better of her, she gently peeled the cover open, pulling out the first binder. There was no mistake. It was definitely her name. And not just that; her parents, her address, her school...

She turned the page, but there was nothing there. Obviously still back at the facility. She had dropped it, after all.

There were other documents, all in a messy pile. She pulled one aside, seeing information on a Digimon she didn’t recognise. And another one that she did; Liopramon, the virtual image grinning inanely away. Knuckmon was in here as well; just as a plate, and outstretched to her full, hungry self.

But there was another folder just behind them all; this one labelled D_SEND_OA_04.

Inez swallowed, and slid out the documents within. She blinked, her heart in her mouth.

It was Owen. Everything about him. School, parents, medical records; the complete package.

“Alasdair…how much do you know about us?”

There were more documents behind the cover sheet. Forms, with the insignia of the police force at the bottom. Reports. Inez couldn’t stop herself as she flicked through more and more. At first her brow was furrowed, trying to make heads or tails of what she was looking at. More documents. Photographs. CCTV stills. She slowed, squinting at the images.

“Owen...what...what happened to you...?”

She bit her lip, and slammed her hand across, closing the file before she could see anymore. Behind her, a faint trail of bubbles headed to the surface of the fishtank as Syngnamon stirred restlessly, his sleep interrupted by some unsettled feeling.

Inez stayed still in the dark, staring ahead. She so wanted to open the file up again, to keep finding out, but she knew she shouldn’t have pried into Owen’s life like that. She’d already seen too much, and it wasn’t her right. But that being said...it wasn’t Alasdair’s either.

“Owen...you have to see this yourself...”

The folder slipped sideways, and a couple of photos poked out of the end, reflecting the bedside lamp as Inez crouched further and further into a ball.

“What am I gonna do?”

03:01:24:19

Owen’s eyes flickered, half-opening as the light outside rippled over his body. He tossed and turned, the same nightmares playing in his head like they had for so wrong. Only now they were even worse; melding with terrifying creatures locked in struggle, and the cold, alien sound coursing through his own head. Total subservience. Order Acknowledged.

Perish.

The images blurred, and the sounds melted away, until finally Owen’s eyes opened fully, leaving him staring across the room in his twisted position on the bed. He could feel a haze of sweat over his back, clammy and cold.

He waited for the normal smart comment that would come from the end of the bed. But it didn’t come. Even when he figured that out, he still waited, hoping upon hope that reality was about to give him a break.

After several minutes of hovering back on the edge of fitful sleep, he finally shifted, rolling onto his back and letting his arm fall sideways. It knocked against the wall. That was something. It told him where he was. As the room began to spin back into place, he recognised the old tape recorder on the battered set of shelves opposite him, and the model planes hanging from the ceiling. Once he’d been quite happy with his own little place in this house, but now it just felt cold to him. Oppressive and cramped, and reminders of things he didn’t want to think about.

Still, it was a bed. And thinking back to the night before, it was just as well. Days of exhausting search and nights of stress had meant he’d ended up screaming at Kevin. Again.

He couldn’t stay there after that; even he knew it just wasn’t right.

And…well…he didn’t have any other place to go right now.

He raised his hand to his face, gripping the bridge of his nose.

“How did I get to this...?”

In no rush at all, the young man sat up, and eventually walked over to the mirror, looking at his own face. On the surface it was still fairly good looking, save for the dead-eyed stare that greeted him in the glass. He leant forwards, knocking his head against it with a thonk, as if trying to dislodge a solution within the multitude of messed up tubes in his head. But none came. Only more pain.

His phone was one the dresser in front of him, and he idly picked it up, flicking through the messages. Something appeared, blinking on the screen from the tamers’ chat. With nothing else to do, Owen swiped it open, watching as the typing icon blinked below Mark’s message.

“We need to have a catchup and figure out how we’re going to tackle this. Café at 11?”

Already some of the others were replying. Owen’s finger hovered over the keyboard app, before he swiped away, dropping it to the surface again. He turned, holding his chin, before his eyes veered up to his jacket, hung on the hook on the wall. The pocket was facing him, and he could see the faint bulge of the D-SEND poking out the top.

The blocks in his head fell down into place as he walked forwards, pulling the device out and holding it in his palm. It was still warm, feeling just as energised as it had the day he’d first used it. The day he’d met Simeamon...

The young man snorted, and marched back towards the mirror, giving his own reflection the royal finger. “Fuck you, Owen, you’re a tamer. Get your fucking head in the game.”

In a single movement he pulled his phone up and sent a quick message; “I’ll be their. Don’t start ither me.”

Ignoring the typos, he grabbed his clothes and pulled them on, making himself look as respectable as he could muster. The dead eyes still stared at him through the mirror, but he brushed them aside, holding his chin out and his teeth together. He pointed at his own reflection, his eyes narrowing.

“You’re gonna have a good and productive day today, you hear me?”

He threw open the door and cantered down the stairs, swinging round the banister as he headed towards the front door.

“Morning, Owen.“

...that was a good start.

Trevor stared into the hallway, wearing an old paint-splattered shirt and loose trousers as he held a coffee in his hands. Slowly Owen backed up, and leant on the doorway as he looked into the living room. Trevor smiled.

“Good to see you. You should have said you were coming; I’d have caught you last night.”

Owen scratched behind his head. “I didn’t...think you’d be in. You’re up early.”

“There are things I need to catch up on nowadays.” Trevor blinked. “And you were...making a lot of noise.”

Owen winced. “I’m really sorry.”

“Nothing you can help.”

Trevor looked out the window, and Owen caught sight of his father’s eyes, looking just as distant and haunted as his own. The young man shuffled awkwardly. “Were you out last night?”

“Barely.”

Trevor sighed, looking down at the carpet. “It’s getting harder. For me, I mean. But this whole...you know...the situation’s getting harder to handle. I don’t know if you heard but...but we lost people. We lost Kade, if you remember him.”

Owen felt his spine twisting, sending a pang of pain into his stomach. But he kept his face completely straight.

“I’m sorry.”

“I feel like it’s not going to stop unless I’m...I’m there with them. Leading them.”

He shook his head, and beamed at his son. “You need breakfast?”

Owen raised a palm. “Thanks, but I’m getting in town. Caffé Kitty do good pastries.”

“Are you sure? It’s really no bother to me.”

“I’m seeing friends.”

“Friends, huh...” Trevor grinned slightly. “Are you ever going to introduce me?”

Owen gritted his teeth, trying to smile or come up with a reply, but his mind went entirely blank. Trevor remained hopeful for a few seconds, before his expression slowly faded back to its normal passive self. Owen stepped back, smiling apologetically.

“I...need to go.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll see you around soon.” Owen waved, hanging back just a little. “I promise.”

“Yeah.”

Owen reached out, his hands curling around his jacket. Trevor watched his movements. He could see the faint glistening in the air as Owen pulled it on. He was sure of it. Falling down, dropping over the old carpet. His fingers tensed, pressing into the handle of his coffee mug.

He could feel the words in his throat, scratching, clawing to get out, to ask the question he couldn’t bear to hear the answer to.

“We need-“

But then Owen walked out the door, closing it with a click behind him. His father didn’t follow him, just staying in the centre of the living room, still holding his coffee.

For a moment Owen waited, his hand caressing the handle as he felt the weight pressing against his head.

Then he looked up in a determined fashion, and marched off down the streets. He didn’t even look back to see his father’s eyes staring after him through the window.

Alasdair held his hands in front of him, feeling the cold of the draft running through his fingers. He was exhausted. His eyes felt like they wanted to drop closed at any second, but instead he just stared ahead, listening to the dull tapping of Dominic in the corner of the skeletal control room.

The team were nothing if not skilled, able to salvage a working area with nimble fingers, a good number of network cables and several sheets of tarp to keep out the worst of the wind. They’d had to do something; even with its new cage leaving the gate unguarded now would be suicide.

Though Alasdair knew full well that if the Digimon did decide to attack again, it would never survive a second onslaught.

From either direction.

He swallowed, and gently rolled over to where Salma was leant over Perez’s desk, scanning through files alongside her

“Was there anyone else there yesterday?”

“We picked up at least one other Digimon. They ran very quickly though, as soon as the tamers arrived.”

“These damn crusaders.” Alasdair tapped his foot as he looked to one side. “They’re just biding their time. A little bit of carnage here, a bit of destruction there. But they’re holding their cards very close overall.” He looked ahead. “Waiting until the day their saviour comes.”

Salma grimaced. “That’s not going to be long now, is it...”

There was a little gasp from Dominic, and the other two turned towards him as he turned the laptop round, the screen illuminating the side of his face.

“They’ve...they’ve found us again.”

Alasdair wheeled his way forwards, looking at the blinking message on the screen. The text was distorting ever so slightly; noise from travel across dimensions. But the messages still came up clearly.

We are coming.

We are coming to stop this.

Alasdair.

We can’t wait any longer.

Let us through.

The old man’s hand curled over the edge of his wheelchair, as he stared at the screen.

“They can’t do this...we’re not ready...”

Salma gritted her teeth, leaning forwards. “Ali...what do we do?”

The man turned around, looking around him at the hotchpotch control room.

“This won’t be enough. We need to lock down what’s left as much as we can.”

“With what?”

“Extra generators, spare coils, spare cards; we still have some of the stores standing, grab anything you can. I’ll help you as much as I can.”

He turned, but Salma reached out, holding a palm over his. When he looked up, her face was lined with concern.

“I don’t know what you do, but I do know you. Whoever this is, can we really keep them out? Are we strong enough?”

“There’s only one place they can enter from. We still have that power over them. We can still stop this. We...we have to, before they make things worse...”

Salma shook her head. “How can things be any worse, Ali? There’s about to be a war.”

“Then we have to believe in the tamers.”

“More than you do?”

Alasdair flinched, and Salma stepped back, catching the brunt of a brutal glare from the old man. But then his face calmed, and he leant forwards, clasping his hands in front of him.

“No matter what...no-one is coming through that gate. Do you understand me?”

It was mid-morning, but Owen still checked over his shoulder as he darted sideways into the alleyway behind Caffé Kitty. He wandered forwards, running his hands along the wall as he edged towards the back door. There was a clunking sound from beside him, and he smiled as Knuckmon raised her head over the back of the skip, holding a crate in her hands into which she was occasionally delving for snacks.

“I daresay I’m bein’ spoiled these days. Twice in one week.”

Owen gave a half-hearted wave as a response. Knuckmon’s face fell a little, and she rested her watery head on the top of the hopper. “I’m so sorry about Simeamon. I wish I could give you good news but we’ve seen nuthin’ either.”

“Eh...good is relative.”

“Really?” Knuckmon perked up in an instant. “That’s just dandy then. Bring cakes next time.”

Owen stuck his hands in his pockets, shaking his head. “Don’t you ever get bored, hanging around here all day?”

Knuckmon slid another pastry down her throat, and Owen watched as it swirled down the length of her body and disappeared into the void beyond. Her horns flickered cheekily. “S’no fun runnin’ around lost all the time like I used to do. I’m here, I have a home, I get snacks, I have my liddle Rackle...” She leant back, placing her hands behind her head. “This really is the life.”

“I’m happy for you.”

Owen swung his foot round, and gently nudged the back door open, sliding inside. Knuckmon leaned forwards. “Custmers are s’posed to use the front door I think.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll find my way through.”

The door clicked shut, leaving Knuckmon staring incredulously, before shrugging and returning to the far more important task of pastries.

The door pulled sideways as Owen stepped into the upper room, where an entire table of tamers and Digimon turned to greet him. The young man smiled, and swung a chair round towards the group as he slid downwards. There was the sound of gasping, causing him to pout.

“I did say I was turning up. I’ll have you know I do have about a sixty-percent streak of actually doing what I say I’m gonna do.”

Lonnie stuck her lip out at the end of the table. “Congratulations.”

“Don’t patronise me.” Owen leant sideways. “If I was doing anything truly impressive I’d have been here before all of you.”

“Why weren’t you?”

“I got lost.”

Mark sat back. “I appreciate it anyway. Thank you for coming.”

Owen blinked, and whispered to Lyra next to him, “Is he feeling alright or has someone doped his coffee?”

The girl snickered, but a slightly exasperated sideways glance from Mark caused the two to shuffle in, listening more intently. The room did feel somewhat crowded, with Grace and Jack sitting together, Lonnie leaning back on her chair, and Inez sitting next to Mark and looking very pale, with Syngnamon wrapped around one of her shoulders. Mark stood up, placing his D-SEND on the table in front of him, which promptly came up with a 3D picture of MetalMamemon.

“This was what got into the lab. Pictured pretty much actual size. But it was one Digimon and it wrecked the whole place.” He glanced sideways towards Lonnie, who leant forwards, clasping her hands on the table. “Does it look at all familiar to you?”

The girl breathed out, as Dendromon popped her head up next to her. “I’m pretty sure I saw one back in the hangar, but to be fair we were a bit busy at the time being terrified out of our wits.”

“And there were a lot of those guys around. We didn’t exactly stop to take a register.”

Mark swallowed. “How many more would you say there are?”

Lonnie placed a thumb on her lip, flicking it back and forth in thought. “It’s not so much of an issue of how many. Some of them we’ve dealt with before. But some of them really looked like they mean business.” She glanced up. “Sciamon looks like the most powerful, but others like that metal man are dangerous as well.”

Grace tapped her fingers beside her. “The fact is we don’t know who’s going to come out when the day comes round. But I would imagine they’ve been keeping all their most powerful hidden. It seems to be a popular tactic.”

Jack leant forwards beside her. “You mean like what Rinkhalmon did with the Fire Tyrants?”

“...yeah...”

The girl nodded, and the two shared a brief haunted look. Mark frowned slightly, when there was suddenly a click from beside Lyra. “Perhaps I can offer a bit more insight?”

“Tsurumon?” Mark turned towards him, gesturing out with a hand. “Please do.”

The crane shuffled, his feathers bristling a little. “The Sanctuary Crusade...we barely did any dealings with them directly; Rhyncomon and Reynarimon did all the talking. But only Sciamon and a few others seemed to actually take charge of this cause of theirs. All the rest are just a workforce of enthusiasts, and they changed and evolved on a daily basis.”

Lyra tilted her head. “I saw a few here and there. Some of them may be powerful, but most of them aren’t soldiers. Just a bunch of Digimon who have a grudge against humanity.”

Lonnie puffed her cheeks out. “All the same...we do have a nasty habit of feeding grudges like that. And well...there were a lot of them when I saw them, and I’m sure Sciamon’s still been happily recruiting.”

Inez leant forwards onto her hands. “That’s concerning.”

“Don’t forget Rhyncomon himself.” Lyra held her arm, wincing at the memory. “He’s not one to let grudges go lightly. And I’m sure he’ll be providing weapons where he can.”

Perimon hopped onto the table, and raised an eyebrow. “Hang on, didn’t we deal with Mr Magpie?”

“I wish.” Tsurumon whistled finely. “He won’t give up just from the act of falling a few dozen storeys.”

Perimon looked a little narked at the revelation, but Jack swayed from side to side. “I mean...we’ve done that multiple times and we still come out on top a lot, so...fair’s fair?”

Owen laid a palm on the table, and raised another one. “I appreciate the meetup here, but this does seem to be just a case of listing all the vast multitudes of Digimon who hate us with little success.” He looked slightly pleadingly at Mark. “Is there actually anything concrete we know?”

Mark sat down, pulling his D-SEND back. “We know about the existence of a saviour. And we know they’re coming on Boxing Day. We have three days.” He ran a finger over the plastic of the table. “MetalMamemon was talking about clearing the way, and went straight for the first gate.”

Now Lyra raised a hand. “Pardon me ‘cause I still don’t quite know all this stuff, but couldn’t this saviour just come through the same way everyone else does? Making their own path somewhere in the city?”

Mark looked perplexed, but Chromon cleared his throat. “That’s a question of s-size. The first gate is a permanent entity, and the others that open seem to spread out from it. Like if something falls into a pond, you get a big ripple, and then l-l-lots of other waves form all around it. So there’s a limit as to how big something is that can come through one of these r-r-residual gates.”

“Like ShogunGekomon?” Owen winced. “Still seems like quite a lot.”

“It’s not just physical size though. Our physiology works slightly differently to y-you. Sometimes small Digimon can be more complex than l-large ones. Things like intelligence and firepower can make a difference.”

Grace’s eyes darkened. “Which leads to suggest that whoever this saviour is, they’re too big to come through a normal gate, ergo...they’re very powerful indeed.”

Chromon swallowed. “M-more than Rhyncomon. Or Sciamon...”

The room fell very quiet as the words echoed around people’s heads. Tentatively, Owen raised another hand.

“Final question; is there anything actually concrete we can do?”

The silence only deepened. Owen’s palm slowly descended, his eyes falling as well as a sinking sick feeling settled around everyone present. Then, as the depression hit a near tangible level, Lonnie planted a fist in her palm and stood up.

“What we always do, right? Turn up, be helpful, and kick anybody who’s being difficult.”

This got a smirk from Lyra, who shook her head. “You say that like it’s so easy.”

“It’s worked so far. About...forty percent of the time.” She placed her knuckles on the table. “I know we’re down on manpower, and things aren’t great at the moment. But we really need to treat this just like any other incursion.” She looked at Mark. “Uncle Ali and his team are reinforcing the gate, right?”

“That’s correct.” Mark scratched his cheek. “Although nobody’s sure how much more abuse it’s going to take.”

“That doesn’t matter. We just need to make sure nobody gets close from the outside.” She stepped back, pacing. “The crusaders will be making chaos all around, I’m sure of it. It seems to be what they do. And Vex’s gang will be running up to meet them, so in some ways we can let them deal with each other.”

“But that’s not ideal,” Grace interjected, her fingers closing. “There are a lot of people in the town who are gonna get caught in the crossfire.”

Vulpimon nodded. “Digimon as well. They’re not all extremists. Some of them are like Knuckmon; just trying to live a normal life.”

“And that’s our strength as well. We call upon as many of them as we can.” Lonnie grinned. “If the hunters and the Sanctuary Crusade can have their own armies then we can do the same. Help out people who can’t fight and direct the people who can and will. Use everyone we have. Eloise and Kai, Kevin, Sara, maybe Raquel and Knuckmon would help us as well...all we need to do is gather everyone together and we can stop any bloodshed before it starts.”

Mark sat back, holding his bottom lip. “I appreciate the level of detail, but that is not a plan. It’s barely even a motivational poster.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

Lonnie’s face hardened a little, but she still wore the same smile she had constantly, her pigtails bobbing back and forth. “The fact is though that plans aren’t gonna do squat for this one. We’re not dealing with a single Digimon; this is going to be utter carnage with a bunch of people who know what they want but not what they’re doing, and some vague all-powerful saviour thing that could want absolutely anything.”

She threw her hands sideways, taking a breath from all the talking, before calming down.

“Honestly, we just need to remember we have each other. That’s our tactic. Be open, be kind, be helpful and be heroic. That’s how we save as many as we can. That’s how we can win.”

Her words were cut short by the silence of the crowded room. Grace and Jack looked at one another. Lyra leaned back on her chair, while Inez just bundled up even more, looking directly ahead.

“I can live with that.”

Everybody rose their eyes at Mark, who was sat calmly, running a finger over the table. Even Lonnie was stunned, her hand going to her neck. “Wow, okay. Yeah. I mean...honestly, I was pulling most of that out of my bottom but...out of everyone here, I didn’t expect you to get behind it. No offense.”

“None taken. I’ve had to do a lot of thinking these past few days.” Mark sighed. “You do have a point. I can’t guarantee we can, and we should prepare for the worst, but...yeah.” He looked amongst the others, pointing with a thumb. “What she said. We’ll go out there and we’ll do good. Show off the best of humanity and Digimon working together.”

Lonnie grinned ecstatically. Grace smiled at one another, as Jack stretched his fingers out in front of him. “Aw yeah, hero time once again.”

“The boys are back in town!” yelled Perimon, leaping from behind the chair and flapping into the air with a caw, before promptly crashing into the ceiling and landing with a thud in the middle of the table. Jack held his nose.

“Indoor wings, dude, indoor wings.”

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

Lyra brushed her forefinger over her lips, tilting her head. She glanced at Inez, who still hadn’t said a whole lot. “Are all your meetings like this?”

Inez raised a tentative hand, tilting it back and forth, before retracting it once again. Mark looked down at her, before over at Owen, who was already pushing his chair back, a slightly glazed look on his face. Mark held out a hand, “Owen, wait.”

The boy stopped, holding his position for a couple of seconds. He drew in a breath, before letting it out.

“I just...wish I could be more help with this. I really do.”

“You don’t need to apologise.”

“But it’s my fault that-“

“It doesn’t matter now.”

Owen sat back down as Mark leaned forwards, his eyes less harsh than usual.

“We’ll find her. I’m sure of it. But right now...we need to be ready. Even without her you can still help us; help those out there who need it.” Mark clasped his hands. “In fact that goes for all of us. Now more than anything we need to look out for each other. Help each other be the best that we can.” He smiled at Owen. “You’re part of the group, no matter what happens. I promise.”

Owen looked surprised for a few seconds, watching as the others nodded in agreement around the table. His jaw hardened, and despite himself he sniffed.

“Thanks guys. I...I really mean it. Thanks a lot.”

Lonnie gave the man a reassuring grin, before standing up and clamping her hands together. “Right. Off to work. I’m gonna check in with Uncle Ali and see if we can do anything for him.”

Mark nodded. “I’m coming with you. I need a few words with him too...” “Excellent! Off to prepare for a day of fun.”

Mark winced. “Maybe we don’t need to be quite so chipper about impending disaster...”

“Nonsense, we shall turn it to our advantage. Tally-ho!”

“Help!”

Mark disappeared as Lonnie dragged him nearly sideways out of the back door, leaving their partners struggling to keep up behind them. The others began to disperse as well, while Owen just pointed down. “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna hang around. I really did skip breakfast.”

Inez raised her head, watching as he slipped out the door. She swallowed, and held her bag close to her chest, feeling the folder within.

Owen tucked in with gusto to the second sausage roll as he sat on the corner table, with the artificial yellow light almost blinding over the grey miserable atmosphere outside. He glanced sideways, watching as Raquel did her best to sate the morning crowd. Well, what little remained after so many harrowing experiences of late. Still, she remained the pinnacle of professionalism. Service with a smile and a spring in her step.

The young man smiled, and was about to take another bite when somebody sidled into the chair opposite him, sliding back a few inches. He looked up, and wiped his cheek. “Hey Inez. You grabbing chow?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“I have to ask; what the hell did you do to Mark on your little adventure? When’s he been so...so...”

Inez gave a small smirk. “Decent, tolerable and considerate?”

“Exactly!”

“Much like yourself?”

Owen winced. “Okay, point taken, but still, owch.”

Inez shook her head. “I didn’t mean anything. And I didn’t do anything. He helped me out more. I’m back with the group now.”

Owen frowned, pushing the plate away from him slightly as he looked at her uncertain face. “Are you alright? You look really off-colour. Are you sick?”

“I’m fine. Really I am.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” Owen leant back, holding his drink can with both hands as his fingers tapped along the side. “You heard what he said in there; we all need to look out for each other. I’m just worried, is all.”

“I heard him as well.”

Inez scrunched her eyes up momentarily, before opening them, and gently unzipping her jacket, reaching inside.

“Owen, I...I think...there’s something you really need to know about.”

Her hand paused, before gently pulling out the folder, holding it in her pale fingers. Owen looked at it, his expression tense.

“What is it?”

“I...we...I found it. When we were in the facility, I came across...this room, Owen, it had all this information in. About what we’ve been doing. About all of us.”

“Us, as in...as tamers?”

Owen swallowed, and looked down in puzzlement at the folder. “Inez...did...you just steal classified information?”

“But it’s about you. Everything about you; more than Alasdair should know. And I...I think he might have that on all of us.”

Now Owen had put the drink can down on the table, his hand still grasped around it as he remained staring at the folder. Inez continued, her voice breaking a little.

“I...I don’t know why. What they’re doing with us, why they need to know about the D-SENDs, how they got hold of any of this...anything. I want to believe in Alasdair; really I do. But I...I just...I thought...”

“Inez.”

The young woman stammered to a stop, catching her breath as Owen leant forwards slightly, his eyes boring into hers.

“What’s in this? Did...you read it?”

She shuffled, avoiding his gaze.

“Bits and pieces. I stopped though. I didn’t realise how...much you lost...”

“Can...I read it?”

He reached out, but Inez bit her lip, and tightened her grip on the folder. Owen pulled back, his eyes wide. “Inez...this...I might be able to find out about Simeamon...how I can get her back...”

“...or you might hurt yourself even more.”

Inez held the side of her glasses, the frames jiggling up and down.

“It’s horrible. I shouldn’t have peeked but I...couldn’t stop myself. And I don’t want it to hurt you, but I don’t want you to find out about it later and have it hurt you even more and I...I didn’t know what to do.”

There was a kerfuffle to one side as Raquel very nearly stumbled with a rack of empty plates, but managed to steady herself just in time. She was keeping one eye sideways, but staying as far away from the two tamers as she could, not wanting to intervene.

Owen raised his free hand, running it over his chin as he sighed.

“You’re a lot smarter than I am. Like...infuriatingly so.” He exhaled. “You’re also too sincere for your own good. But really that makes you one of the kindest people I know.” He leant back. “What do we do?”

“I think we...need to know for sure, from Ali. He’s already kept the saviour from us. But this is...I don’t know.” She looked aside, and gently pressed the folder forwards, until it touched the ends of Owen’s fingertips.

“This isn’t mine. It’s yours. To read, or to keep safe and never look at.”

Owen looked down, and placed a palm over it. He gently pulled it inwards, his knuckles pale.

“Do you want to read it with me?”

Inez shook her head. “I...it’s not my place.”

“Then I’ll do it myself. And I’ll call you, alright? Just to be sure we know what we’re going in with.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Owen’s eyes were heavy as he ran his fingers over the green card. “Thank you, Inez.” He pushed his chair back, and tucked the folder beneath his jacket. “I...I should be alone.”

“Please be safe.”

The young man smiled, briefly flicking two fingers away from his forehead as he walked slowly out the cafe. Inez just stayed where she was, a horrific sinking feeling forming in the pit of her stomach. Owen had seemed to take it well. She could tell he was trying. She slumped back, looking forwards at the half-eaten sausage roll on Owen’s plate, and the unfinished drinks can, misshapen from a series of finger dents from where he’d held it tightly.

The afternoon had become overcast very quickly, with lines of raincloud streaking across the sky and soaking patches of the town. One of them was passing over the suburbs now, splattering against the window where Owen was currently sitting on his bed, staring forwards across the room. His dad was nowhere to be seen. Out with the hunters? Out in general? He had no idea, and didn’t feel like checking.

In one hand he held his phone, the thumb hovering over his contacts, wondering if he should go and find Kevin. Kevin was smart. He’d know the best thing to do.

In the other, his own D-SEND, still faintly flickering with energy. Simeamon would also know what to do. She was good at that.

“Bloody hell...”

Owen brought a knuckle up to his jaw, rubbing his teeth against it, before wincing as he reached a segment of broken skin he’d worn away before. He looked at his hand, noticing how rough they all were.

The green folder lay across the room from him, partially open, with a few sheets of paper sitting on top. He’d found his own information. Unsettling in how thorough it was, but manageable. Simeamon’s as well.

It was enough to confront Ali with. But there was still more. Things he’d never known about before. He’d been too young. Too frightened. He’d always thought there was only one person who knew exactly what had happened on the night his mother died.

“Inez trusted me.”

He turned his hand over, before curling the fingers inwards, pressing his teeth together so hard he felt they would crack.

“I have to be better than this. For their sake. I have to get past this. I have to face my trauma, right? That’s how this goes…” His gaze blinked towards his D-SEND. “Otherwise you...you’ll never come back, will you.”

The file lay in front of him; accusatory, beckoning, demanding. Agonisingly slowly, Owen got up, and walked forwards towards his desk. He gripped the edge as he sat down, the desk light the only source of brightness in the overcast room.

Owen turned the page.

The rain powered against the window pane, drowning out the gentle ticking from the little fold-out clock on the desk. But even the rain seemed distant; little more than a dull hum in Owen’s mind as he stared down at the documents. Minutes passed. Half an hour passed. Owen moved sheets next to one another, turning them back and forth, staring at photos and reading and rereading statements, and articles, and forms.

His hand slipped sideways, leaving a deep red mark on the edge of the paper. He stared at it for a moment, confused, before he raised his hand and looked at his knuckle. It was bleeding freely, the skin peeled away. He’d been chewing it. He hadn’t even noticed. Another couple of blood spots fell against the paper, and he wiped at them, leaving grubby trails.

He stared at the back of his hand, but it warped in his vision, seeming completely alien. He couldn’t focus. There was...no, it was...wrong. He could hear Inez’s words in his head but they seemed impossible to reach. Mark’s encouragement. Lonnie’s smile. All hollow. All unobtainable.

It had to be a mistake. Or…something. Anything other than this cruel joke the universe was playing on him.

But as he looked at the grainy security camera stills, and read the statements, and reread the articles, it only solidified it further. What had really happened that night. The thing he never knew. Had never wanted to know.

All this time.

It had been her.

His thumb was shaking, the nail rubbing against the wood. He took in a breath, and his whole body shuddered instinctually. There was a throbbing hum in his head, and he brought a hand up to his ear. Only when he was holding it there for several seconds did he realise it wasn’t his head, but his phone, vibrating against the wood beside him.

He stared at it until it stopped, before reaching out and swiping his hand over the front. The passcode screen greeted him, mocking his efforts to maintain control. After three attempts he got in, pulling down the notifications at the top. Four missed calls. Two voice messages. All from Kevin. He hadn’t noticed that either.

He stood up, his head swimming. He could see the mirror out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t dare look at it. Look at himself.

The phone rang again, and he swiped right, raising it to his ear.

“Kevin, I need to-“

“Hi Owen.”

Inez’s voice was quiet. Too quiet. Was it her, or was he just not hearing things properly. Hearing her words.

“Are you okay? Did...you read it? You said you’d call but I...I didn’t hear from you...”

“Sorry.”

“Is everything alright?”

“I read it.”

Owen’s mouth hung open, his breathing ragged. The voice sounded again, more panicked this time.

“Owen? I need you to listen, okay? I’m here, I can get the others, we can be wherever you need us, alright? Is that okay?”

“Inez.”

“You promised, Owen. Tell me where you are.”

“You don’t understand. I need to find out for sure.”

“Please, Owen, we can help, don’t do anything-

“Don’t come looking for me. Whatever happens now, it’s all on me.”

“OWEN-“

Beep. Owen held his thumb down on the end call button. It rang again almost instantly, the same number, but he killed the power, holding down the button until it went silent. His other hand was wrapped around his D-SEND, holding it tightly in his palm as he thrust the door open. It felt alien in his hands. Wrong. False. Cold and unfeeling. But he held on tightly nonetheless, if only to stop him tearing his own hands apart.

He went to rush for the door, when something stopped him. He turned, almost robotic, and looked at his wardrobe. And at the drawer at the base.

Eyes glazed, he reached out, and turned the handle. He could smell it as he stepped inside, barely able to see in the dim light. But he knew what he was looking for nonetheless. He crouched down, and reached inside, pulling out a cheap holdall, dusty and moth-eaten.

“…how could I have been so stupid…”

He gently slid the zip down, looking at the contents within. Still where he’d abandoned it, years ago now. Wires, capacitors, batteries; metal and silicon, barely stained. Owen’s eyes were half-closed, and he stood still, staring inside at the life he’d left behind.

One hour later, the house was empty once again. The rain pounded against the windowpane, the only sound inside the dank, dark house.

“Owen, are you in? I saw your light on.”

There was a click, and a gentle squeak as the front door opened, and Trevor walked in, shaking the rain from his jacket and leaving his belts and batons on the floor. He paused in the front hall, waiting for his son to respond.

“…Owen?”

He looked up, and saw the gentle flickering light from Owen’s room, reflecting inside his visor. Carefully he walked up the stairs, water still dripping from his jacket.

Still no reply.

Gently, Trevor nudged open the door to his son’s room. The lightbulb still jittered gently, casting the room in shuddering shadows. Owen wasn’t there. The desk was clear, a space left in the centre. And the drawer at the base of the wardrobe was wide open; empty, save for a couple of wires.

“...oh no...”

Trevor rushed to the window, but the rain outside was torrential now and he could barely see six feet in front of his face. He called out, but his words were thrown back in his face. Trevor cursed, and rushed back inside, his boots powering against the scuffed carpet.

“No, no, no...I’m not gonna lose you too!”

He stumbled as he hit the bottom of the stairs, and rushed out into the night into the pouring rain.

“Owen...I’m coming for you...”

TO BE CONTINUED…