Eirenemon’s hand went up to the torch around her neck, and she gingerly reached out, rapping against the doorframe.

“Can I come in?”

She pushed the door open, catching sight of Fenghuangmon in the middle of the office. The phoenix glanced up, and nodded at the dove woman, who slowly stepped inside and closed the door behind her. The table was laden with papers; many Eirenemon recognised from several days prior, during the undersea rescue. And not just that; there were tablets strewn around running strange programs, odd instruments, and Fenghuangmon’s own scroll, hovering beside her, scrawling down note after note in a frantic manner.

Fenghuangmon herself just stared forwards, her eyes darting from page to page. Eirenemon stepped around, leaning in as close as she dared. The phoenix’s expression was as inscrutable as always, but the wear around her eyes and across her face was evident. Eirenemon ran her hand along the table.

“Is everything alright?”

Fenghuangmon hissed through her beak. “The movements are getting more erratic. You can see it in the portals. They’re starting to join together. The newest emergents...Sciamon, NeoDevimon, Xiphactimon; the more powerful ones have been breaking through the weak points.”

She walked away, Eirenemon following behind her. She kept talking; not so much to her companion as to herself, as she raised a claw to her beak.

“This is unsustainable at this rate. Unless we can pull together Alasdair’s solution in time...but they’re still so broken. The societal damage is already evident here; I can’t bear to think what’s happening on the other side. But the worlds are too weak to hold it where it is. Something’s going to give. Something has to.”

She felt a hand wriggle through hers, and looked down to see Eirenemon looking gently up at her. The smaller DIgimon leant forwards, feeling Fenghuangmon’s rapidly beating pulse against her cheek.

“Breathe. Please. I can’t bear to see you like this.”

Fenghuangmon stood still briefly, before her body relaxed, and she sat back against the windowsill, looking across the table. “I’m sorry. Recent events are worrying me.”

She shuffled up, allowing Eirenemon room to sit daintily next to her, her hands in her lap. “We always knew it was going to be hard. An impossible task.”

“An impossible solution to an impossible threat, I seem to recall.”

Eirenemon nodded. “Then all we can do is keep trying, right? That’s what Simurghmon needs from us.”

Fenghuangmon tapped her talons against the windowsill. “Yes. She did.”

Her head fell forwards, her eyes seeming duller than before. “If this were just for Simurghmon, I wouldn’t be faltering. No matter how impossible, we have to ensure peace. We have to find common ground. That’s what I agreed. But...but I...”

Eirenemon’s shoulders tensed, her hands coiling around her torch. “I know you, my darling. You would never falter unless...” She swallowed, her hands fidgeting all the more. “Unless...you didn’t think we were doing the right thing...”

“That’s not it,” said Fenghuangmon, shaking her head. “I know we’re doing the right thing. But I don’t know if we’re doing it the right way.”

She raised an arm, stroking the feathers on her arm. “I...don’t know if I should be telling you this. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’d rather it hurt me than keep hurting you.”

The phoenix sighed. “Well...I care about both our worlds. But why is it that ours is the only one being judged?”

Eirenemon tilted her head as Fenghuangmon stared at her, her eyes calculating as always. “There are the noble and the wicked in both worlds. I’m not naive; I can see that. But we’re disadvantaged in this world and always will be. The monsters and villains among us have been exiled, or even killed. And yet there are still people here who were never given justice for...for trying to wipe every one of us out. Those hunters. The murderers. We face death while they are allowed to disappear without punishment.”

She clenched her fist, looking down at the ground. “Where do we stand in this world? Where is our protection, and our right to life and to defend ourselves? How can we achieve peace while there are still those who want every single one of us dead?”

She let out a breath, not realising she’d been holding it. The phoenix blinked, and looked into Eirenemon’s eyes. “Please...tell me, is it wrong of me to think that? Am I being cruel?”

Eirenemon held a hand to her veil for some time. Then she sighed. “You’re asking me. I’m no good. I don’t want anybody to get hurt no matter where they are.”

She held her palms out, her pale flesh glinting in the window’s light.

“I understand you, I really do, and I want to protect our world more than anything. But...Simurghmon loves this world, and the people here. I couldn’t cause her pain.”

She closed her fingers. “I’m sorry, I know I’m no help. There just...there has to be a way we can make this work...”

“You are beautiful, you know that?”

Eirenemon blushed, feeling Fenghuangmon’s arm caressing her shoulder. They leant into one another, the phoenix nuzzling her head on Eirenemon’s. “You’re the best of all of us. If anybody can make a difference in this world, it’s you.”

“Oh, stop.”

The two laughed, holding each other as they felt the glimmers of sunlight through the window. They didn’t hear the door gently swinging, or the faint footsteps heading down the hall.

Owen turned a corner, running a finger over his chin as he went back to his own room. He closed the door, leaning back against it as what he’d overheard played over and over in his head.

“Please don’t hurt them. I beg you.”

He shut his eyes, before looking up, seeing the sparsely furnished room around him. He wandered forwards, stopping in front of the mirror; an exquisite, full-length piece, if slightly tarnished in places. The figure standing in front of it was less so. The ambassadors had taken care of him as promised; he was well-fed, and had been exercising. But the tension in his body still hadn’t waned, and it was clearly draining him.

His hand went to the pocket of his shorts, looking instinctively for his phone to tell somebody, or at least just to talk. But every time he did so, he remembered it was gone. Probably still missing in a back alley somewhere in the now ruined part of town.

It didn’t have to be like this. He wasn’t trapped here. He could leave. He could probably even find the others right now, or Kevin, or Alasdair; find them and tell them...

Tell them what?

To protect the people who had already hurt them?

To protect him?

His hand absentmindedly reached into his other pocket, looking for his D-SEND, but of course that was gone too.

But as his hand closed, he could feel the sting of static jolt through his muscles. Images flashed before him. Broken bodies. His partner’s terrified eyes. His partners emotionless mask. His own father, standing in the remains of the one who had taken so much. Death, after death, after death, after-

Owen’s arm fell limp beside him, and he walked backwards, collapsing down on the bed as the emotions leaked away, and the apathy took over. He bent forwards, burying his face in his palm.

“I’m such an arsehole...”

“It feels like it’s been a long time.”

Inez sat back, her hands pressed against the grassy hillock. She looked out across the downs, seeing the strip of blue over the horizon where the sea lay. Syngnamon was curled up next to her, catching some sleep in the sunlight. Mark was sat next to her, his knees bent in front of him, as Chromon lay sunning himself to one side. The young man let out a long sigh.

“For a supposed superhero group, we really don’t get to spend that much time together, do we?”

Inez shrugged. “Isn’t it nice when we can do so, though?”

She looked around, taking in the almost picturesque image of the group around them. Grace and Nicholas sat together on one of the benches, with their partners sat a good few metres apart either side of them, having just had another argument. Jack lay in the grass, staring up at the sky where his partner was currently looping the loop, trying to vent some long pent-up energy and stress. Tsurumon was being far less energetic, standing up on one leg with his eyes closed. Lyra just sat in front of him, sipping from a juice box as she plucked at her violin strings, tuning them to a ridiculous degree.

Dendromon was crouched in the long grass, gently burning the green blades one by one, while Lonnie rested on her front watching her, a grass strand poking out of her own mouth.

After the Martyaxmon and Xiphactimon incidents, the group had still been on edge, waiting for retaliation as they tried to recover. But there had been nothing else since then, the ambassadors keeping the tamers clear from all activity they were going through. With nothing left to do, they’d decided to spend some time out of everybody’s way, hence the walk up to the nearby hill for some downtime. The town was healing. The world was almost feeling normal again.

Although not quite. The lack of a sarcastic quip and a loud presence was definitely eking out a large hole in the group’s morale. Lonnie sighed, resting her chin on her hands.

“We’re so close to having the full gang back together.”

“I know,” said Grace, running a finger through one of her bangs. “I wish Owen could come back already. I miss him. I miss both of them.”

Nicholas twisted next to her. “I missed him; is he the space guy? What happened?”

Grace looked down, clutching her skirt. “His partner ran away. Then so did he. His dad was the guy leading the Digimon death cult; it’s all kind of fucked up really. We have no idea where any of them are.”

Lonnie said nothing. But she glanced over her shoulder, catching Lyra’s eye. Luckily Jack piped up, sitting up as the grass waved around him. “We have time to look again. All these wild Digimon have gone now, and the hunters have barely shown up again. Things have to be turning round now, don’t they?”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Grace scratched the side of her nose. “Just ‘cause we haven’t seen them doesn’t mean they’re gone.”

There was a snort as Yethmon pawed the ground beside her. “Yeah. Rough feelings don’t change that easy, kid.”

“Look who’s talking?” Jack stuck his tongue out. “And don’t call me kid.”

Mark pulled his knees up further, a grim expression on his face. “He has a point. It’s quiet at the moment, which gives us time to think about where we go. But that’s the same for our old enemies as well.”

“Won’t they listen to the ambassadors though?”

“That depends on what the ambassadors are telling them.”

The comment was slightly subdued, leaving a hush around the group, interspersed only by the twang from Lyra’s rhythmic tuning. Inez sat forwards. “Aren’t they busy themselves? If things really are calming down then maybe we need to sit down and actually figure how we can help them?”

“Peace between the digital and human worlds...” Nicholas pulled a face. “That’s a little broad, isn’t it?”

“What’s wrong with that?” remarked Lonnie as she rolled over onto her side. “We’re closer than we’ve ever been thanks to them.”

“Lonnie, this is one town. And we have no idea how much is happening over on the digital world’s side.”

The redhead stuck her lip out. “But we’re tamers...that has to count for something...why is it so wrong to be aiming for coexistence?”

Mark gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m not worried about that; I’m worried about how fast it’s happening.” He turned around, addressing the others. “If we’re honest, a lot of this wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t come here.”

“Mark, don’t-“

“Just listen, please.” The boy took a breath, keeping his voice down. “There were Digimon coming over here beforehand, but they only really began to organise once they believed in a saviour. The worlds are coming together, we can’t stop that, I get that, but...doing it the way they did? The crusades, the riots, all that damage? There had to have been a better way than that.”

Chromon swallowed beside him. “Unless...they felt they were f-forced to...that they didn’t h-h-have a choice...”

Mark looked over his shoulder, looking at the dinosaur’s uncertain expression. Inez leant forwards, adjusting her glasses.

“When...when I was with Xiphactimon, he was mentioning the world being broken. Something happening in the digital world. I don’t know how much he was telling the truth, but...” She swivelled around, looking amongst the Digimon present. “As far as I see it, a lot of you have been telling the same story. A lot of you have been running from something.”

Vulpimon raised a paw. “Some of us were already here. We don’t know what’s going on in the new world.”

“I’ve seen some of it.”

All eyes turned to Yethmon as he sat up, gently running his knife through the dirt, leaving a line. “Not a lot though. There wasn’t really any time to react; one moment we were there, and the next, we were forced to run.”

“That sounds familiar.” Dendromon nodded next to him, before looking up at Lonnie. “Whatever it was, it was too big for us to see for sure. Just...the world was there, and then it was falling over you and threatening to crush you. We just had to keep going, hoping there was a way out. And as soon as we got here, we were separated.”

Lonnie frowned, holding up her D-SEND. “What about this, then?”

“It just appeared in my hand when I got here. I didn’t know how, but I knew I needed to find my partner.”

Nicholas looked at Yethmon, who crouched up begrudgingly, looking away and muttering weak denials under his breath. Inez gently stroked the fin of her own partner. “It was the same for Syngnamon, I think. Probably for all of us new tamers. Right Mark?”

Mark looked down at his own device, recalling the first night. “Not...quite.”

“Not me!” piped up Lyra, spinning the golden triangle in between her fingers. “This was just a product of love and compassion and running for my life.”

Grace gave a half shrug. “I think it’s a slightly different case with you anyway.”

“I know, I know...” Lyra pouted, plucking her violin discordantly. “I just wanted to feel involved...”

Inez cleared her throat. “All I’m saying is that a lot of Digimon seem to have the same story. And if that’s the case...” she faltered, holding her arm. “...what could be so big and threatening to displace that many Digimon?”

A gust of wind played over the hill, making the grass ripple like water. Mark pulled his sweatshirt further around him. “We need to find out.”

Jack looked up. “You really think the ambassadors will tell us?”

“I wasn’t talking about them.” Mark looked aside. “If they know about this then so will Alasdair. He owes us.”

“Hey.”

Lonnie sat up, her brow furrowing, but Mark had already turned around and was staring hard at her. She dug her fingers into the ground. “He’s trying to help us. Get off his case.”

“Lonnie, I want to believe that as well, but we have to face the facts at somepoint. He was holding information about us. All of us.” Mark looked at Inez, who curled up, not wanting to get involved.

“He knows something about all this and he’s just leaving us in the dark here. Why? Why’s he hiding it?”

Grace raised a hand. “He did help us before. When we first came back from the Digital World. I don’t know the full extent of what he does, but...maybe we don’t need to know.”

“How can you say that?” Mark let out a breath. “People are getting hurt because of this. Because we don’t know what’s going on.”

Lonnie pulled her lips in. “That’s not his fault-“

“Why are you so desperate to defend him?”

“Because I owe my life to him!” snapped Lonnie, cutting Mark off.

She glared at him for a good minute, the silence passing among the other tamers. Lyra looked between them, inconspicuously finishing her juice box as her eyes darted back and forth. Lonnie continued.

“He’s a good man, Mark. I trust him. He cares about us.”

Mark folded his arms, looking away. “He cares about you, you mean...”

“I’m sorry?”

“Leave it.” Mark looked away. “If you want to stay in the dark then go ahead. Whatever happens will happen anyway. We don’t have a say.”

Lonnie looked apologetically, but the young man didn’t turn around, staring out across the hill. Chromon lowered his head down, resting it on his front paws as he clicked his beak. Slowly the others got back to what they were doing, not too keen on carrying on the conversation. Nicholas sat back, folding his arms in front of him.

“Is it always like this? Does anyone trust each other?”

“Depends if they’ve earned it.”

Nicholas pulled a frown at Grace, but she merely gave a tired sigh. “People share things or hide things for the best of intentions, and it doesn’t always work either way. Alasdair’s clever. He knows what he’s doing.”

Nicholas blinked. “Do you trust him?”

“I’ve had to, just to survive this far. But I’m still worried. Owen, Alasdair, the Digital World, our world; I’m worried about us all.”

She leant forwards, holding her chin in her hands with a tense expression on her face.

”It just feels like something’s gonna snap at any moment...”

The orange tinted goggles zoomed in, focusing on the group of tamers out in the open, unaware they were being watched. Hoatzimon sneered, and raised a hand, pretending to crush one of them between her finger and thumb.

“Makes you feel kinds sick, doesn’t it...”

There was a slight smirk, and she glanced down to see Caesiumon readjusting himself on the hill beneath her, the sunlight reflecting off his body. “ I would have put that down to present company myself.”

“Very funny.” Hoatzimon sighed, pushing her helmet up as the eyes retracted. “Nothing pisses me off more than people becoming complacent.” She ran a hand over her crest, making a snorting sound. “It would be so easy to take one or two of them down right here. Send a message.”

“You know that’s not how Sciamon does things.”

“Why not?” Hoatzimon folded her arms. “We’re always doing the work and he just hides away on his own these days. Why don’t we get to make choices?”

“Because you always need somebody to see the big picture,” crooned the metallic man, holding out a palm and extending his fingers towards the sunlight. “As satisfying as it would be to break them now, the fallout would only come down on us. Do you want to face the wrath of the ambassadors?”

Hoatzimon sighed, pulling her knees up and rocking on the tree branch. “It’s hard enough with the tamers themselves, to be honest.” She grunted. “I do get what you’re saying. It’s just irksome. We wasted all that time banking on a saviour who abandoned us. It just feels like Sciamon has no direction anymore.”

“Maybe he does. Maybe not. But I wouldn’t say all that time was a waste.”

Hoatzimon tilted her head, her crest bobbing up and down as she looked inquisitively at the metal man. He seemed unbothered by anything, tilting his hand back and forwards as it caught the light. His expression was almost unreadable, save for perhaps the tiniest hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Never underestimate the power of information. Of observation. And of knowing exactly who you’re up against. Whether they’re more useful as a friend or a foe.”

“Can we afford to just be waiting though?” Hoatzimon kicked her legs out one by one. “There are Digimon depending on us. On somebody. We can’t let them down.”

“Have faith, Hoatzimon.”

Caesiumon stood up, with tiny strands of metal pulling out from the grass behind him. Hoatzimon could see the dark mark in the green where his body had scorched it, as volatile as ever. And yet when he turned round he was the epitome of calm.

“It’ll all turn out as it should. Have faith in Sciamon. Or if not...then have faith in me.”

“In you?”

The metal man’s eyes bored into hers, almost commanding her attention.

“I don’t intend to let this game pass me by. It’s just a case of watching. And being ready.”

He turned, the breeze making the surface of his skin ripple ever so slightly, as he watched the tamers moving away from their hillock in the distance.

“Being ready for the moment when somebody makes a mistake.”

“I’m home.”

Mark gently pulled off his shoes as Chromon walked past him, trotting carefully through the hallway. The young man followed him, hearing his father’s voice mid-conversation. He went into the kitchen, seeing Joshua pacing back and forth on the phone. He nodded, before holding a palm over the receiver, addressing his youngest son.

“I’m glad you’re back. It’s Kent; did you want a word?”

Mark rubbed behind his neck, looking uncertain. “I...don’t really think that’s...”

A thought crossed his mind, and he nodded. “You know what? Sure. Grab me once you’re finished.”

He got a glass of water, and waited in his bedroom, just out of earshot of his father’s conversation. Chromon sat by his side, listening to him gently tapping on the desk, swinging back and forth on his chair.

“You look t-tense.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“M-maybe...maybe it would be good just to take a step back for a b-bit. The d-danger’s passed. We can slow down.”

He trailed off, feeling Mark’s eyes boring into his own. There was a rap on the door, and Joshua poked his head in, the phone in his hand. Mark reached out for it, but his father held onto it just for a moment, looking down at the device.

“Be gentle, alright? You know he cares about you.”

“Yeah...”

Mark pulled back, closing the door behind him as he held the device up to his ear. There was the sound of static, before he heard a familiar voice on the other end.

“Mark? Is that you?”

“ Hey Kent.” The boy allowed himself a smile. “How’s American life treating you? They’re keeping you busy, I hope.”

“And the rest. You wouldn’t believe how many digital issues there are over here. Trilomon and I have our work cut out.”

A muffled and irritated voice in the background indicated that Trilomon was likely trying to catch up on either work or sleep, and Kent hushed his voice a little. “Sorry. There’s no rest for the wicked and armour plated.”

Mark glanced down at Chromon. “Well, we can agree on that front.”

“Right.” Kent’s voice softened just a little. “ I gather things have been busy over there.”

“Have you been following it?”

“Alasdair’s given me the lowdown.”

“I figured as much.” Mark sat on the bed, drumming his fingers on his knee. “Honestly it feels more hectic than ever. I don’t know if we’re gonna be able to keep things under control for much longer.”

“You’ll do fine. I have faith in all of you-“

“I’m glad you do but everybody’s saying that.” Mark held the bridge of his nose. “It...it would just help if we knew more. What are the ambassadors up to? Why does Alasdair know about us? Why are we so important?”

There was a pause on the other end, as Mark tapped his fingers even more. Chromon looked up in concern as his partner’s face fell.

“I know you’re talking to Alasdair. Please...if there’s anything you know, just tell me. As a brother if nothing else.”

“Would you tell the others?”

“Probably.”

“After what happened with Owen?”

Mark flinched, stopping his fidgeting as Kent continued. “Knowing the full situation doesn’t necessarily make things easier. You have to believe me on that.”

“I know it’s not going to be easy, Kent, I’m eighteen. We’re trying to do our best but it feels like we have no control.”

“It’s not like that-“

“It’s alright for you, isn’t it? You get to sit back and watch and decide everything. How much has he told you? How involved are you?”

“Mark, why are you so determined to make Alasdair a bad guy here?”

“Because he hasn’t given me anything to prove otherwise!”

Chromon hunched his shoulders, his tail rolling back and forth as Mark’s hand dug into the bed. “Neither have you! You’ve always done this; you hid away and did your own thing and never...goddamn...talked.”

“Mark, I’m sorry, I just-“

“Sorry doesn’t cut it at this point! I...I thought, if we were both tamers, we’d actually be able to have something between us now. We could actually be honest with each other for once. But it’s just the same as before. It always is!”

Mark’s hand clawed the front of his face, struggling to keep his voice down as it shook with barely concealed rage. “I just...I don’t...I can’t...”

He let out a breath, his fatigue echoing back at him over the line.

“You’d better go. You’re probably busy.”

“Mark-“

“Bye.”

Mark’s finger jabbed the red button, and he sat there, seething as the tone rang in his ear. Chromon gently got up beside him, but he flinched as Mark yelled out, “God...DAMNIT!”

He through the phone across the room where it clattered against the ground, and crouched over, burying his head in his hands. “What the mighty hell is wrong with me?”

Chromon felt his feet shaking, but he tried his best to suppress them. “Mark...are y-y-you okay?”

“No!” The boy looked desperately at the dinosaur, his hands clawed up in front of him. “Look at me! I...just...god, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore!”

He ground his teeth together, holding his forehead. “I know, alright? I know he’s right. I...I want to trust Alasdair and the ambassadors, god help me I do, but...with everything that’s happened I can’t help it! They’re in control! They’re all in control and we’re the ones who have to deal with the consequences!”

“M...m-m-maybe they just need space...without us...without needing to worry...”

“Without worrying? That doesn’t change a thing! If...if we’d known about Inez, if he’d told us what to look out for, we could have done something to stop that...whole thing from happening! One of my friends could have died, Chromon! His silence is going to kill people!”

Chromon flinched again, but his face hardened. “That’s not your choice to make, M-Mark. You...you c-can’t mess with...with other people’s lives...”

Mark closed his eyes. “I...know...that...I know.” he bent over, balling his fists. “Kent’s right there as well. Owen found out, and that...hurt him and hurt everyone around him. It doesn’t matter what we know, it all just leads to more goddamn PAIN!”

He stared down at his palms, watching them shake. Chromon looked up, and could see tears welling in the corners of his eyes, dropping down uncontrollably.

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt...I want to trust them, god help me I do, but I...I just feel...so powerless...so weak...I’m at my limit...”

He slowly brought his hands down, looking off to one side, avoiding Chromon’s gaze.

“You’d better go. I...I don’t want you seeing me like this...”

Chromon stared at him, his own eyes glistening. He opened his mouth, looking for a rebuttal, an encouragement, any words at all, but they just caught in his throat along with every other thought he had. With nothing to say, he turned, gently opening the door and walking out the room. He padded slowly down the hallway, catching Joshua in the doorway, leaning against the rail. The dinosaur didn’t meet his gaze.

“S..sorry about that...”

Joshua sighed. “Didn’t go well, huh?”

The dinosaur just remained still, his tail rolling gently on the ground. The old man reached up, running his hand down his beard. “They’ve always been at arm’s length, even as children. Mark was always the one who got angry. Kent just shut himself off. It was manageable at first while Taylor was still around to let them make up, but...he’s found his own way now as well.”

“I w-w-wish there was something I could do to help.”

“Isn’t that why you came?”

Chromon looked up, looking at the man’s stern eyes. Yet there was a gentleness behind them, buried almost out of sight.

“You know very well I’m afraid of your kind. You, and Trilomon as well. But...if I have to be honest, you two gave my sons the support they needed. The love they needed.”

Chromon blinked, a couple of tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’m...the one who’s...w-w-weak...”

Joshua crouched down, and gently patted the dinosaur on the back. He flinched, his legs almost locking up, but the man straightened up again, forcing a smile. “You’re stronger than I ever was. Please, whatever happens...look after him, will you? Please promise me that.”

Chromon turned his head, staring up into the man’s eyes. They’d softened even more now, shining in the hallway light. Chromon’s muzzle scrunched up. “If...y-y-you only knew...”

The door opened, and the two pulled apart, turning to Mark as he walked down the hallway. Joshua reached out a hand, but his son walked past him, the slightly battered phone hanging loosely in his hand. He put it back in its holder, before returning, keeping his head down.

“Sorry I was so loud.”

Chromon caught a glimpse of his face, almost completely dry now, no sign of any tears at all. He took a step forwards, but Mark had already disappeared back into his room, the door closing behind him with a click.

Mark slept restlessly that night. Not usually one to be disturbed, he was nonetheless tossing and turning late into the night, in a half-awake state as the thoughts rolled around his head. Still he forced himself, blocking out the worries even as they grew louder.

So loud that he didn’t notice his bedroom door creaking slightly as it opened.

Beyond the walls, far out of earshot, the streets were deadly silent. Most didn’t dare go out, human and Digimon alike. And those that did remained quieter than they had ever been; for purposes of survival, or for malice. Most remained within their own shelters, quietly praying that the dark would give sanctuary.

Far and wide, so much worry. On one side, Lonnie sat cross-legged in her sister’s room, holding and gently rocking Sian, warding away the bad memories.

One the other, Inez pulled the sheets further over her head, preparing herself for the newest nightmares.

All through the town, hidden away.

Grace clutched the dolphin in her arms, brushing the cold frost away as she held him tightly.

Nicholas lay on his back, staring up into the darkness, his mind a blank void.

Martyaxmon pawed at the air, swiping and slashing his way through fitful dreams, as Simeamon lay not ten metres away, her eyes wide open, sleep coming nowhere near.

Sciamon remained hunched over, still as a statue, not a single spark or glow over his body, with only the whirring hum of his furious heart to provide a sound.

Kevin reached out, his fingers curling around a pillow, embracing somebody who wasn’t there.

The streetlamps flickered overhead, casting long shadows as the figure walked beneath them, their shoulders hunched and their hands in their jacket pockets. They turned, disappearing back into the gloom that they knew so well. And yet it seemed different this time. Was he scared? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t really have an end goal, so for the first time in a long while he was left with only his inner thoughts.

He paused, pulling his hand out and looking at the slip of paper. He’d found it on his doormat just two days earlier.

I know who you are. I can give you what you need. Come to the location below after 11pm.

It promised clarity. It promised a solution. And it had been the thing to pull Vex out of his isolation.

He ducked further away from the main roads, underneath a bridge, and found himself on an old industrial estate. He knew it well. He’d been here before, many times, chasing down a renegade. And yet still he slowed, feeling the heavy atmosphere around him. There was no backup this time; he was completely alone. And he knew it.

Something scraped beside him, and he turned, seeing something staggering in the shadows. It tilted sideways, and walked forwards, revealing itself to be an armoured knight, with a cape, a cracked crystal ball in one hand, and a golden sword in the other, dragging against the concrete and making sparks. It looked regal for all intents and purposes, save for the face beneath its pointed hat. The skin was blistered and cracked, and the eyes were completely blank. It grumbled, trying to form words, but they just came out as spurts of flame.

Without warning, it charged, its sword arm flapping behind it as it built momentum. It swung downwards, just missing Vex as he leapt backwards. The man’s arm went to his jacket, and he pulled out the old wired spike, buckled at the end. He glanced down at it, feeling the charge cutting in and out, and he cursed as the maddened knight rushed towards him, sword raised and flames in its gaze.

“Mistymon, enough.”

The knight jerked to a stop, its body seeming to be struggling against the commands running through its head. It grunted a few times, its shoulders heaving, but somebody else walked forwards, spreading his wings and sending him a piercing glare.

“I said back.”

Mistymon’s body sagged, and he took a few steps backwards, crouching down. Its sword hung limply in its grasp, and it whined, scratching at its broken face. Vex straightened up, and turned towards the newcomer. Rhyncomon spun around, his wings folded behind him, and nodded.

“Apologies. I’m trying to keep him under control.”

Vex gently put the charged spike away. “ It seems to be going badly.”

“I found him wandering the streets. The unfortunate creature’s mind has been eaten away. Remnants of a former war in our world.” Rhyncomon ran a talon over one shoulder. “I normally wouldn’t have bothered, but needs must when you’re under pressure.” He looked behind him, and his talon went up to his cheek, rustling through the once pristine feathers at the back of his head. “I don’t have anybody else.”

Vex folded his arms. “ If you wanted sympathy you wouldn’t have called me here.”

“You’re efficient. Yes, Trevor, I contacted you for a reason.”

Vex flinched, gently unfurling his arm. “ You know who I am? I’ve never seen you before.”

“Believe me, it wasn’t easy to find you. But I’m good at finding things. Names. People. Objects.”

“Sounds worrying.”

“But it also sounds useful, doesn’t it? Otherwise you wouldn’t be listening to me.”

Vex’s shoulders descended, and he exhaled loudly. Slowly he reached up, pulling the crash helmet from his head and placing it under his arm. Rhyncomon’s eyes flashed in the dim moonlight, taking in Trevor’s face. The man’s beard was as patchy as ever, and the magpie could see his cheekbones protruding through his skin.

“You look worse than I imagined.”

“Look who’s talking.” Trevor raised an eyebrow, looking the magpie up and down in his own dishevelled state. “What’s this about? What solution?”

Rhyncomon fingered the handle of his sword. “I need your assistance. But we’ve both fallen on hard times, so I want to give you a hand.”

He walked backwards into the shadows, before coming back, holding a long case in front of him. He planted it on the ground, and gently opened the clasps, opening it and pushing it towards Trevor. The man scanned his eyes over what was inside; a hefty cuboid the size of a shoebox, connected to two broken silver shapes, along with a number of wires, brackets and a couple of hefty levers. Homemade, and yet alien at the same time. Vex gently reached out, running a hand over one of the shafts, before looking up at Rhyncomon expectantly. The magpie shrugged his shoulders.

“Just a personal project of mine. I like to have some insurance to hand when dealing with questionable clients.

“You made this?”

"A few mechanisms from some of my own kind, and a few catalysts from your own technology. It’s been tested, although it’s never been used against another Digimon.” He kicked the case. “But if it has even half the power of the original wielders of these, then this will easily rip through even a powerful Ultimate level. Possibly even a Mega.”

“You made this?”

“With assistance. It’s taken several years of collecting. Mostly from the scraps left behind after the kinds of skirmishes you get involved in.”

Trevor narrowed his eyes. “I see. So you’re the one who was providing weapons to all the other Digimon.”

“Correct.”

The man sat back, pulling the case towards him, but Rhyncomon reached out, holding it in place with a talon. Trevor gave a wry smile. “You must be confused or something. You understand that I was out for the blood of your kind.” He looked upwards, his expression dark. “Why would you help me to destroy them?”

“Revenge.”

Rhyncomon stepped back, holding a palm to his face. “Make no mistake; I aided them, did business with them. But they turned on me. I lost personnel. I lost my honour. And I don’t take that lying down.”

He looked up, scanning the clouded sky. “I can’t make a move against them like this. The tamers, or the ambassadors; they would find me before I could strike. And yet those fools won’t kill Sciamon or any of his lackeys; they would find some way around it, by which time he would have struck back.”

He looked down, smiling in an almost half-dazed fashion as he stared at the man. “I can’t kill him, but...if one of the hunters were to re-emerge from the shadows, with something more powerful than he’d ever had before...I don’t think even Sciamon would stand a chance.”

“You want me to be a mercenary?”

“It’s in your interests, isn’t it?” The magpie cocked his katana. “I still have somebody to deal with myself, by my own hand. But I want Sciamon, Caesiumon and anybody who still follows him gone. They cannot be allowed to live. They will destroy this town from under your feet.”

“It sounds like a personal vendetta to me.”

“Isn’t that something you can understand?”

Trevor sighed, and gently reached out for the device, but Rhyncomon held the lid back, his expression firm.

“I need your word that you will kill them. In return, I can find you anything you need. Allies. Enemies. I can give you your power and status back.”

Trevor looked down at his arm, the glove holding the metal. He was almost certain he could feel the energy within, even through the leather. He pulled his hand back, feeling inside his jacket. Rhyncomon stood up, his hand tapping the top of his sword.

“Or I can find somebody else.”

Trevor grimaced. “You know...you really don’t understand a thing, do you...”

He thrust his arm out, tossing the metallic spike forwards, along with the remnants of the battery pack. Rhyncomon swiped back, but the coils wrapped around his wrist, arcing and flashing in his face. He hissed, and tossed his arm sideways, unsheathing his sword in an instant. He lunged forwards, heading for Trevor’s head, but the man had the case in his hands, and brought it up vertically with the device still inside.

Rhyncomon’s movements were halted with a sudden need for preservation, and he angled his sword away, only scratching the hard polymer. Trevor reared back behind the case, and kicked forwards, sending it slamming into Rhyncomon’s head. He batted it away, and raised his sword again, but juddered to a halt as he found himself staring directly down the jagged barrel of his own armament, as Vex held it steadily, bracing against the weight. His left hand drifted down, curling gently against the upper lever. There was a hum, and a little web of sparks developed in between the prongs.

“You have me wrong. I’m not a mercenary. I never wanted to do this; I was forced to. I don’t want to gain power; I want to end this. I want to end the poison of your presence, before any other innocent people are hurt or killed. And if you mistook that for a love of this war, then you’re more stupid than I could imagine.”

Rhyncomon held up his sword, taking a few steps back, trying to put some distance between himself and the weapon. “I really mean it. I can be your ally. I can be useful to you; I can help you get revenge-“

“You’ll offer me your services? You’ll give me what I need? Because I only need one thing.”

Trevor pulled the device up, steadying it in his arms.

“Where is my son?”

Rhyncomon tensed. His wings trembled. A couple of seconds passed, before he lowered his head. He clicked his beak. Vex narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t know where he is, but I-”

“Wrong answer.”

Rhyncomon launched himself back as he heard the lever click, but he soon found himself spinning as a deadly blast of light shot from the twin barrels. Instant searing pain coursed through his body as the beam tore through one wing and sheered into his upper right arm. He gasped, his data feeling as if it were on fire, and before he could stop himself he doubled over.

Something fluttered down next to him, and he looked down in horror to see the remains of one wing, already disintegrating, glowing at the base. He scrambled back, trying desperately to hold onto his sword as Trevor swung the device around again.

“You didn’t test it enough. It fires a little to the left.”

“You...bastard...”

“BLAST....FIRE!”

A wave of flame shot forwards, and Trevor ducked down, backing away from the intense heat. He swung forwards with the barrel, trying to catch the knight as it dived forwards over his new master. But the device swung too far again, careering backwards and pulling the man off his feet. He went down, squinting through the flames as he watched Mistymon retreating hurriedly, holding the broken form of Rhyncomon over his shoulder.

Trevor stood himself up, wincing and holding his shoulder where the device had wrenched it. He looked down, running a hand over the scuffed metal.

“Guess you were telling the truth though. This has some bite.”

He walked forwards, placing the device back in its battered case with a click. Then he hoisted it over his shoulder, and walked away, not even looking back at the still smouldering earth. The scene was as quiet as when it had begun, with only the lapping of the flames providing any light.

Minutes passed. Unseen and unheard, the rogue hunter shifted in the shadows, staring out over the flames. They were dying away now, leaving no evidence of the skirmish until the sun rose.

She shifted, leaning out over the crate, and raised the phone to her helmet.

“You guessed right. He tried to make a trade.”

A pause.

“He’s still out there. But Trevor has the weapon.”

Another pause. She stood up, her hand going to her pocket, and closing around the device within.

“I understand. I’ll keep watching.”

Mira lowered the phone, and without a backwards glance she slipped back into the shadows.

Vex hadn’t been the only one making a journey that night.

The lights were few and far between, although some were persistent, even this late into the night. A faint glow could be seen in the ground floor window of the last house on the terrace, blinking slightly as the figure behind adjusted the curtains.

Alasdair pulled back, catching his breath momentarily as his head span. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep getting to him, but he could feel his energy draining away more and more. Even during the day. He sighed, rolling back, his gaze falling upon his corkboard up on one wall. He might have to adjust the caring rota. This was getting silly.

He sat back, looking up at the yellow light above him. It swam in his vision, forming patches in his eyes. He closed them, his body feeling almost weightless for a moment, before he shook his head, coming to again. The same oppressive room, with those same oppressive thoughts. The one place he couldn’t run from them.

His eyes tracked over to his side table, and he reached out, pulling open the top drawer. The digivice was there, covered with a thin layer of dust. He reached out, and held it in his lap, running his hand around the circular screen. More memories. More guilt.

He closed his eyes again, seeing the lights dancing in front of them. They jumped up and down, morphing into the girl he knew well.

Brave heart, Ali.

He chuckled under his breath. “I know you’re waiting for me. But I can’t come yet.” His head bowed forwards. “Not...not until I make things right...”

His hands gripped around the device in his hands, as the memories came flooding back. Memories of hope, of kindness, of the best people he knew. And of horror after horror. In the new world. And in this one.

How many had been broken now...

How many had been lost...

How many times would he have to fight...

“I can’t...keep...doing this...”

His head twitched, the visions and sounds in his head growing more vivid.

The endless spiral. The furious roar. The eyes, seeing into eternity.

The hand, crumbling away in his own. Again and again. Make it right. Make it better.

Calling out, time and time again, reaching out for somebody he could no longer reach, somebody he made a promise to. Those they had all made a promise to.

Then turning away, descending, down, down into the darkness, a distant voice, a silent voice. Don’t come after me. Please. This was never meant to happen. We couldn’t change it. We were never able to change it. I’m proud of you.

Eternal lustre, fading to black. Comfort turning to crying. This stops here. Live well. Live happily. Spinning, growing, the cry getting louder, the waves growing larger. I’m glad I got to meet you. Those eyes. That look. Begging with him, pleading with him, swimming up, up, closer and closer and towards him and

There was a sharp rapping sound, and Alasdair started awake, the device nearly slipping from his grasp. He looked around, for a moment unsure as to whether he’d really heard it. Then it sounded again, slightly more reserved this time.

Alasdair hurriedly placed the device back in the drawer, the tingling feeling passing from his body as he did so. He rolled around to the door, staring through the keyhole to the world outside. He couldn’t see anybody.

“S...sorry it’s so l-late.”

Alasdair blinked, and rolled back, pulling the door open. Chromon stood on the doorstep, shivering a little from the cold. His eyes were dark. He’d been crying.

“Chromon...what are you doing here? Has something happened?”

“I c-c-can’t do this anymore.”

The dinosaur looked up, his gaze painful as he gritted his beak.

“We have to t-tell them everything, Alasdair. We have to show them the t...truth. B...b-before anyone else gets hurt.”

TO BE CONTINUED...