Author's Note: For reference, it might be helpful to read another of my stories that takes place in this universe called "Unintended," though it is not necessary as events from that story will be summarized.

Chapter One:

Once Upon a Time in New York City

June, 2003: With Myotismon defeated and the event of that Christmas Eve invasion of digimon over, the world finally accepted the existence of digimon, the Digital World, and the Digidestined. Though things were slow to change, people were beginning to face the reality of the new world they'd been handed. Governments took a look around and things were discussed about how to deal with children with pet monsters and how to deal with these monsters themselves. And yet the realization that the world's children had collaborated and solved the problem themselves seemed to give everyone hope. The world, people thought, was going to be okay.

And that, combined with the glorious prospect of Summer Vacation, was enough to make one young lady very happy.

Mimi Tachikawa, age 14, stood admiring herself in the mirror in the department store. It was a big one, just off of Times Square, and the pink top she was wearing was elegant and breezy and went perfectly with the white skirt and hat she had chosen. She turned a few times and posed, smiling and tossing her hair back. It wouldn't be cheap, but her father had given her a big budget on account of her entering high school in the fall. She was giddy, practically electric as she thought about all the fun times to be had that summer with her friends and her digimon partner, now that she no longer had to hide from the world. Shopping, tasty treats, and maybe a trip to the beach... it was all in her future. She couldn't be happier.

"Attention shoppers," came a voice over the store's intercom, "the store is now closing in preparation for the apocalypse. Please exit the store and enjoy being vaporized! We'd hope to see you again, but we know you'll all be dead."

Mimi froze. She stared up at the speaker in the ceiling, unable to believe what she just heard.

"Mimi, Mimi!" one of her friends shouted. "Didn't you hear? They're closing the store! Grab those things and let's check out!"

Mimi looked to her smiling, expectant friends and began to doubt what she'd heard. "Um... did you hear that announcement just now?" she asked hesitantly.

"Uh, yeah, Mimi," said another of the girls, as if it was obvious. "They said they're closing early for maintenance or whatever. Let's go, okay?"

"But... um... okay..." She must have misheard the announcement. That had to be it. She shook her head, put it out of mind, changed back into her normal clothes and gathered her new acquisitions, taking them to the register.

She exited the store with her friends, laughing loudly and carrying her new clothes in several bags that were loaded to the point of almost bursting. She was now wearing a yellow top with a matching hat, a brown skirt and high brown boots. It had something of a 60s retro look, and it was she was happy to show it off. Fashionable as always, she drew some looks and smiles from others on the street, as did her friends. They gabbed excitedly about all the beautiful clothes they'd bought and boys and the latest music. Ordinary, light-hearted, silly stuff, but perfectly normal for a group of 14-year-old girls, excited about their futures as high school students. Some people could call her shallow or vapid or any number of names... but they didn't know her, and she could care less what other people thought about things she liked. She was Mimi Tachikawa, one of the children who had helped saved the world. Twice. She had a right to be herself and do what she liked.

And right then, she liked the idea of getting a tasty treat. "Hey, girls, I heard about this new place about a block from here. Karen told me they have the best parfaits!"

"Oh my god, I. LOVE. Parfaits!" The girl who'd spoken looked ravenous. "Let's hurry in case there's a rush!" And they were off.

She'd saved the world. Not on her own, of course, but with her wonderful friends back in Japan. And she'd made new friends since she'd moved to America, and life in the Big Apple was thrilling. Her father and mother's catering business was becoming the talk of the town and everything was going so perfectly that life seemed like an endless dream. The future was bright, and her heart was practically dancing at the thought of experiencing it all.

It will never happen, Mimi.

That thought... no, wait, that was no thought. It was a voice. Something so quiet that it could barely be heard, and yet it was so full of menace and dreadful certainty that she froze where she stood, drawing looks of confusion from her friends.

Take a last look, Mimi. New York City, right before it all disappears. Before you fail. Before...

She looked around frantically. The tall buildings with the flashing electric signs and billboards for the latest Broadway musical. The rush of traffic on the street and the ubiquitous yellow taxi cabs. The sight of a hot dog vendor. The chatter of people and the throngs of them moving up the sidewalk, some young as herself, and others business men and women in impeccably sharp suits. The police officer directing the traffic. The smell of something sweet and just baked coming from one store and the sound of pop music coming from the next. Tourists. Pigeons. And looking up, the beautiful blue sky forming a line beyond the high rooftop corridor of buildings lining either side of the street.

And then there was a sudden white flash and it was all gone... but just for a split second. It was as if she was watching an old, jumpy filmstrip.

"What's... what's happening?" she asked, looking around in a panic.

Her friends were mouthing something, but suddenly the sound was faint and she couldn't hear them. It all seemed so distant somehow, and she couldn't explain why.

"MIMI!"

She whirled around. She saw Palmon running toward her. Her green hand was outstretched, reaching as she ran, her face in a panic. She was coming to warn her... or perhaps to rescue her? But from what?

Too late, the voice said, and there was a dark mirth there now. Waaay too late. Your little partner can't save you. And you cannot save her.

Mimi was seized with fear and tried to call out Palmon's name. But then there was another white flash and there was sound again. Only now it was the cacophony of car horns and the smashing of metal and the screams of the crowd, her friends voices getting lost among them. Glass from windows and buildings crumbling. Palmon's voice screaming in terror. And someone else was screaming so loud that it could be heard over all the others. And it was then that she realized it was her own voice. The light blotted out everything, but soon another sound came and it drowned out all the others: the growing, deafening roar of an explosion.

Suddenly the light was gone, along with the chaos and fury and sound, and Mimi now saw nothing of the city. There was just a debris field. Mountains of concrete. Twisted metal. A burnt-out car. Pulverized granules of ground glass. And it stretched out for miles as an icy wind blew all around her, howling and chilling her to the bone. Above her, dark clouds rumbled with thunder constantly and churned angrily. The smell of smoke nearly choked her. She hugged herself and looked around in confusion and a growing sense of horror.

"What happened?" she asked aloud, her voice echoing out into the wasteland. "Where is everyone? Where am I?!"

That dark voice came again, and this time it was no whisper. It was very close, and this time there was no mistaking how jovial it sounded. "There's no one else here, Mimi. Your little friends have been reduced to ashes along with the rest of the city. Including your parents. Including your partner."

Her eyes went wide in horror as the shock swept over her. She fell to her knees, stumbling as a cry escaped her. How? How could this be? It couldn't be true!

As if to answer her thoughts, the voice said, "Oh, it's true. Or at least it will be true. Sooner than you think. As for where you are, Mimi, well that's an easy one."

She felt compelled to look up and through the tears in her eyes she could see something on the horizon, beyond the endless field of concrete and clouds of dust and plumes of smoke from still-burning fires. It was the steely edge of the ocean and, rising out of it, something tall and green.

The Statue of Liberty.

"No..." she gasped. And then it became a scream. "No!"

"Aww, don't look so sad, Mimi," the voice said again, chuckling cruelly. And this time it was so close that she could tell it was coming from right behind her. The dread she felt was so heavy that she almost couldn't bring herself to look. Like a frightened child who hides her eyes during the scary parts of a movie or hides under her blankets to stay safe from perceived monsters under the bed, she refused to look at the being behind her. But she felt compelled to look nonetheless and somehow managed to slowly turn her head.

The thing was the size of a man, shaped like a man, but she somehow knew that it was certainly not a man. Its true nature was so far removed from any human or digimon that this disguise just made it that much more disturbing. It was as a living silhouette, a swirling shadow that had cobbled itself into human form. Its face was almost featureless, save for two things: a horrible rictus of a madman's grin, the white, unnaturally sharp teeth interlocking like some kind of beast... and a pair of blood-red eyes burning like embers in the impossibly deep oblivion of its face. The thing laughed and she felt her blood turn to water as it reached for her.

"Welcome home, Mimi!" the thing laughed, and as its steely, ice-cold hands grasped her and she felt her inevitable doom coming and then there was this sudden rush as if she was surfacing from under water and-

Her eyes popped open. She was in her bed. She sat up, putting her hand to her forehead. Sweat was pouring off her so much that her nightshirt was drenched and she felt almost as cold as she had in the dream. She was still panting and her body was shaking from the lingering sense of fear. She realized her cheeks were wet from fresh tears and realized just how deeply she'd been affected by what she'd just seen.

"That dream again," she breathed. It wasn't the first time she'd had it, but this had been the most vivid and detailed version of it she'd experienced so far. Before, it had only come in pieces. Little, terrifying bits that flashed in her mind just before she awoke.

Still, she told herself, the horrible vision wasn't real. It was just a nightmare. Nothing to be scared of. She looked over at her clock and saw it was only 5:00 in the morning. She remembered that it was her first full day of summer vacation and smiled, trying to put the dream behind her. In her own bed on the other side of the darkened bedroom, Palmon was still asleep, unaware of her human partner's nightmare.

Mimi smiled and quietly got out of bed. She'd get a drink of water, maybe change shirts, and then go back to sleep. It would all be fine. She'd enjoy her summer vacation like any other young girl... enjoying days at the beach, shopping, and sampling the tasty food. Summer was going to begin and it would be unforgettable.

"Unforgettable," she whispered to herself contentedly.

Thousands of miles away, in the darkness of the early morning, a thing that had seen ten thousand years of history, a thing that only looked like a man slowly made its way down the road. It opened its eyes which were glowing a burning red and chuckled to itself. It spoke a word, a single word, in a high-pitched, mocking tone: "Unforgettable." And then it threw back its head and cackled like a madman, knowing that an ancient ritual was about to begin once again.

The thing sighed contentedly. "See you soon, Mimi. You... and your friends."

It was a few hours later and New York City buzzed with activity just as it always did. It was a warm, sunny day and whole neighborhoods of children spilled out onto the streets, enjoying what was, for many, the first day of summer vacation.

Above it all, Mimi stood on the balcony of her family's apartment, looking out onto the city she loved and had grown to think of as her home. In the distance, she could see the ocean as it sparkled in the afternoon sun. Far below, the cars rushed by. The car horns floated up to her in a chorus that many found annoying, but she found strangely soothing. It was a reminder that the city was always alive, always moving forward, the people living their lives as best as they could.

Not that she thought too much about it; she was content just to experience it.

"Mimi, what are you still doing here?" Palmon asked, coming out the door.

"Oh, I was just watching the ocean," Mimi answered, looking down at her digimon. "Isn't it pretty?"

"I always think the ocean's pretty!" Palmon exclaimed. "I just thought that since it was the first day of your vacation you would go to the mall with your friends. I like going to the mall. I'm so glad you don't have to hide me from your friends and family anymore."

"Couldn't stand living in the closet, could you?" Mimi joked.

"It's cramped in there with all your clothes!" Palmon shot back. "Now I get my own bed! Anyway, I think I spent enough time in your closet and I don't recommend it."

Mimi laughed and finished her coffee. She had started drinking it this year and found it repulsive, but necessary. She hadn't understood how anyone could drink something so bitter, but found it even harder to get up and get to school on time without it. Besides, it was trendy and guys were always asking her out to get some coffee, so it was convenient to drink it anyway. Her last boyfriend and her had broken up before the school year ended and she couldn't have been happier about it. She really wanted someone a little more like a friend and less like a stuffed animal. Sure, the last guy had been nice, but she got the feeling that he only dated her because she was pretty and sweet... but he'd gotten the wrong idea about what kind of girl she was and she had to drop the guy when he took her to the movies and wouldn't keep his hands to himself. She'd left before the movie was over, calling her father to pick her up.

Boys, she thought, making a face. The next guy she dated would have to be sweet, honest, and like her for who she was, and she would make darn sure of that before she went out with anyone again. The next guy would have to prove himself, and she wasn't going to go falling for the next handsome face either.

"So, what will you do for your first day of vacation, Mimi?" Palmon asked.

"Well, I thought I'd relax. You're lucky you don't have finals to take, Palmon. I'm exhausted!"

"So am I. I helped you study, remember?" she reminded her.

Mimi sighed and went back in the apartment. "Well, it isn't just the finals. It's also… well, the bad dreams."

Palmon froze. "Bad dreams?" she asked carefully.

"Uh-huh," Mimi said quietly, taking a seat on the couch. "I started having them months ago. I had a bad nightmare this morning, actually." She shivered at the memory. "It was just once or twice at first, but now... I finally saw him."

"Him?"

"Yeah, there's just this dream I have about a big pile of concrete—"

"—where the city used to be," Palmon finished.

Mimi eyed her partner carefully. "And then, when you think that you're all alone in the world, you turn around—"

"—and there he is."

"This guy. He's really tall and he looks just like a shadow, but—"

"—he smiles like a shark and his eyes are glowing red."

The two of them looked at each other uneasily, Mimi turning white and Palmon a paler shade of green.

"Weird," Mimi said. "What does that mean when a Digidestined and her digimon have the same dream over and over again?"

"I don't know," Palmon confessed. "Maybe it means that we're so close that we're starting to share dreams, or in this case, nightmares."

Mimi thought for a moment. "Do you have any other dreams a lot?"

"Uh-huh."

"Me too. Let's tell each other what else we've been dreaming about."

"Okay," Palmon agreed. "Sometimes I dream that I'm being chased by that guy in those movies with the hockey mask and he's got a lawnmower. You?"

"Sometimes I dream about Brad Pitt."

Palmon waited. "Brad Pitt? What's he doing in your dreams?"

Mimi looked away, her cheeks reddening. "Um... I can't tell you that."

Palmon shrugged and went to the refrigerator. "Well, it's weird whatever it means," she went on. "Maybe we should e-mail Izzy or Joe and see if they know anything."

"About dreams?"

"I guess. Or if they have the same one."

Mimi raised her eyebrow slyly. "About Brad Pitt?"

They both had a good laugh about that. Mimi felt her tension melt away. Palmon always helped her feel better, and now that she was feeling better, her mind began to clear up. And it was then that she looked up and saw the calendar, noticing that one of the days had been circled. In fact, it was that very day.

"Oh no!" Mimi gasped. "I almost forgot! Quick, Palmon, we need to leave! I forgot what I have to do today!"

Earlier that morning, there was an incident that slipped by the attention of most, but it was to set significant events in motion later that afternoon.

A hotdog vendor was serving his latest patron one of the delectable franks when it came loose from his tongs. No sooner had it hit the ground when a small, black blur shot by, snatching up the hotdog and disappearing around a nearby corner. The vendor and his customer were both quite shocked, unsure of what it was they saw.

The hotdog thief, meanwhile, was trotting happily in the alley, the hotdog held securely between his teeth. He often heard humans say that New York was tough, but he found it incredibly easy to live in. The digital world had been tough; this place had food everywhere. It would be a utopia for him if it wasn't for all the stupid—

He heard a growling and completed the thought with a snarl: "dogs."

Emerging from behind a dumpster, he saw an immense doberman pincher, ears lowered and teeth barred, staring at his prize.

"Not this again," he sighed, dropping the hotdog. "Let me guess: you want the meat I just snatched and you are willing to fight me for it. You're big and scary and I'm a poor, defenseless rookie digimon. I know the way this works, and," here he assumed a more menacing pose, "you better turn around if you don't want to get hurt."

His name was Scarmon. He was fairly small, standing on all fours. His reptilian head didn't even reach the top of the average human's knees. All over his body were shiny black scales. Each of his four feet had three sharp, curving claws, and a few bony protrusions at the back of his head. He had a box-like head with a wide set of jaws, complete with several large, razor sharp teeth. His nostrils flared, taking in the scent of the both the real dog and his hotdog, keeping an eye on both with his large, yellow eyes. His stubby tail lowered and twitched excitedly as he crouched, ready to pounce. The dog, confused by the lizard-like creature that spoke like humans, was not so put off that it wasn't willing to fight for the hotdog.

"Not going to back off, are ya?" Scarmon asked, setting down the hot dog to bare his own sizable teeth in a voracious grin. "You're brave, but stupid, Rover. I eat puppies like you for breakfast, and I'm not exaggerating when I say that."

The dog barked and Scarmon snarled, displaying his chompers with pride. The dog was apparently unfazed, however, and it charged its opponent. Scarmon leaped straight up into the air with his powerful legs and landed skillfully on the dog's back as its momentum carried it forward. Whirling around upon the dog's back, he opened wide and sank his teeth into the scruff of its neck. The dog yowled in sudden pain, which was made worse as Scarmon dug his claws into the dog's flesh, getting a better hold. "Not exactly a pushover am I, Sparky?" Scarmon taunted as the Doberman furiously shook himself, trying to dislodge his assailant. The dog was stronger than Scarmon suspected and he found it difficult to hang on. Deciding to end it quickly, he released his grip from the dog and landed easily on top of the nearby dumpster. "Up, here, Bingo!" Scarmon called, drawing the dog's attention. "Plasma Fire!" he attacked.

The small green fireball hit the ground just ahead of one of the dog's paws. His canine adversary noticed the smoke emanate from the burned ground and then looked to him. Whimpering slightly, the beaten dog retreated back down the alley, its tail between its legs. "Yeah, I thought so!" Scarmon called after it in his gruff, growling voice. "I've met cats tougher than you!"

He hopped down from the dumpster and gave a contemptuous snort as he turned back to his hotdog, only to see a mouse nibbling on it.

"Why you cocky little…!" He sprang forward, seizing the mouse in his jaws. It only managed to give one terrified squeak of protest as Scarmon tossed his head back and swallowed the mouse whole. "Serves you right, you little thief," he grumbled, taking up the hotdog. "If you want it so badly I'll send it to you," he added, snapping up the hotdog after him.

Satisfied after his meal, he followed the alley back to a manhole. Grunting as he used all of his little body to lift the heavy cover, he finally removed it and descended into the catacombs beneath the streets. He followed the familiar path he had taken many times before, through the abandoned subway tunnels heading towards his lair. He had holed up there over the winter and found it perfect protection against the harsh New York City cold. It was a nice, secret place to wait a while until his partner was free to join him. He had no idea when that would be, but he was a patient digimon and, if he had to suffer a little indigestion from eating sewer rats, that was fine with him.

"Get away!" shouted an old man in an old Irish accent as he stalked by. "Get away, ye curséd demon! You'll not be getting me soul today!"

Scarmon sighed. He was used to living with the homeless and poor that took refuge in the abandoned tunnels deep below the city, but he wished that Mr. Morrison, the only one that knew about him, would remember who he was. The poor man was insane and tended to ramble, which meant that no one believed him when he told people that a Komodo Dragon was living in the sewers. Or an alligator. Or Bulgarian pit-bull. Or, like today, a demon. It came in handy when he wanted to keep hidden, but it was annoying to deal with nonetheless. He wondered how humans, who could afford to build a place like New York and produce so much food, could let so many people like Mr. Morrison just rot away down there.

"For the last time, Mr. Morrison, I'm not a demon," Scarmon sighed. "I'm a digimon! Understand? Digimon? From another world, made of data from the Internet? 'Show me your brave heart?' Any of this ringing a bell?"

"Get away! Get away, ye foul thing!"

"Whatever," Scarmon sighed, proceeding on to his lair. It wouldn't have bothered him so much if he could be with his partner. With Jin. His best friend would understand how he felt. As much of a loner as he could be, he needed someone else there. If he didn't, he might lose it and become like those other crazies out there that saw aliens and demons and walked around with signs that said, "The End is Near." Not that he could hold a sign.

As he approached the little cranny at the back of the tunnel, just a spot with some blankets and a few old boxes, he caught the scent of someone he didn't recognize. Coming up on the lair, he called out, loudly, "All right, whoever you are! Come out or I'll have to eat one of your major organs!"

"Relax," came a high, soothing voice. "I just want to talk. I have some news, and you will want to hear it! Come on in and I can help you. Yep, help you I can!"

Scarmon narrowed his eyes. I might have to eat this guy just for being annoying, he thought as he approached the lair.

But then the creature finally got his attention when he said, "I know exactly who you are, Scarmon. And you still have a destiny to fulfill..."

Michael James Washington, Jr. wore a big grin on his face when he walked out of school that day. It was the last day for the Seneca School for Boys just outside of New York City, and even though it got out a day later than most public schools, he didn't mind. They had a party in class, which was great since he felt like celebrating. This was not only the end of the school year, but also (he hoped) the beginning of something very special.

"See you later, Michael!" one of his friends called to him as he walked down the stairs and across the expansive front lawn. "You sure you don't want to come with us? We're going out to pool and there's gonna be a lot of girls there! Last chance before high school!"

"Thanks, but I've got plans of my own!" he called back over his shoulder, giving him a knowing wink. He sprinted down the last few stairs and over to the street where his father was waiting in a limo to pick him up. Saunders, their chauffeur, held the door open for him. He got inside hurriedly, feeling ecstatic about his plans.

"How was your last day, son?" his father asked.

"Great!" Michael replied. "Why'd you pick me up in the limo?"

"I've got an interview to get to. They want to know about the latest movie."

"You mean 'Iowa Smith and the Pearl of Wisdom'?"

"Yeah."

"I can't believe they wanted you to do another sequel," he replied, rolling his eyes.

"It puts food on the table. Don't be so snotty."

"All right, all right," he relented. "Well, could you drop me off somewhere?"

"Where?"

"A flower shop."

Mr. Washington raised an eyebrow. "Which one?" he asked, though he already had a good idea.

"You know, that one over by Central Park, right around King Towers."

The elder Michael Washington eyed his son suspiciously. He grinned knowingly as he asked the second question. "You mean the one near Mimi's apartment?"

Michael reddened slightly. "Yes, that's the one."

"Well, what about Betamon? Aren't you going to bring him along?"

Betamon was asleep on the floor of the limo, resting comfortably on a cushion. The amphibious digimon was completely oblivious to the other passengers, tired as he usually was in the summer heat. He much preferred the cool summer nights or the soft rains of spring to the stifling June sun. He and Michael had become local celebrities since the events of last December, being part of the crew that saved New York from rogue digimon and later revealed as the ones that helped stop Gorillamon from wrecking the Empire State Building.

There had been an award ceremony for all of NYC's Digidestined. Mayor Bloomberg gave a speech and gave him and all the other kids medals. Michael and Betamon had stood on that stage looking their best, and he still remembered the feeling of pride as he stared out into the crowd, hundreds of camera flashes going off. He saw his father in the front row, looking more proud than he ever had before. The other kids had also been there;: Lou, Maria, Phil, Tatum, Steve... and of course, Mimi.

Mimi had dressed elegantly, but fashionably for the occasion. His friend had grabbed onto his arm and laughed as she pulled him in during the group picture. Later on that night, Lou came up to him and whispered, "Hey, it's good to see you again, Michael. And you and Mimi look good together as usual. A real cute couple."

"Huh?" he'd asked, not understanding the "couple" part.

"Oh yeah," Maria had added, winking at him. "Not surprised that you two are still together. You two are just as close as you were last Christmas!"

Michael looked over to where Mimi and Palmon were posing for a few more pictures, the media already picking up on how photogenic she was and, compared to the others, how unembarrassed she was to have her picture taken. "Mimi? Me? A couple?"

Mimi had always been his friend. He'd met her back at their old school after she'd first moved to New York. The girl was still practicing her English and, despite her outgoing personality, she had some initial trouble fitting in. Michael had stepped in to help because of his ability to speak Japanese (having lived in Japan for a time with his family when his father was working on a movie there) and his own sense of chivalry. Sure she was pretty and they got along very well, but a couple? That was...

Well, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. They liked social events, like parties, they enjoyed music (though Michael played a lot of older music and classical things, he still enjoyed pop music as well), and weren't shy about showing off their good looks. Around his old school, before he'd gone to an all-boys school, he'd been compared to a prince, and Mimi was a bit of a princess (literally one, he later found out, to a group of Gekomon). Still, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that there was more to their friendship than these surface-deep things.

Mimi was kind, she was funny, and she brought out the best in people. She made you want to be a better person and she made you care about things you never thought you would care about. If it wasn't for her, he wasn't sure he'd have even been involved with the operation last Christmas, and he certainly never would have met Davis, Yolei, and the other kids in Japan. And then there was the way her bright eyes sparkled, the way her hair moved and bounced when she turned her head, and the way her body moved with such confidence and lightness...

Before he knew it, he realized that he really did feel that way about Mimi. But they had been friends for so long that now he just hadn't had the courage to tell her. However, with school out of the way now and a whole summer to spend with her, it was his big chance to finally ask her out.

"Michael! I asked if you're going to bring Betamon with you," his father repeated when Michael seemed to have lost himself in a daydream.

"Hm? Oh, no," he said, shaking his head. "I wanted to be alone with Mimi. I thought it might be uncomfortable if I brought him along."

"Brought me along where?" Betamon piped up, awakening from his nap.

Michael sighed while his father laughed. Still, he relaxed and decided to just go with it. "Hey, Betamon, do you want to go to Mimi's?"

"Sure! Are you going to finally ask her out?"

Michael groaned, slapping his forehead as his father laughed again. "Looks like you're not too good at hiding it, son," he chuckled.

"I wish Mimi would notice so maybe I'd know how she'll react."

"Oh, come on, it's no big deal to ask a woman on a date!" his father said, slapping him on the back. "She either says yes or she says no."

"I've dated before, Dad. But I'm worried that if I ask and she says no, she won't want to be friends anymore," Michael protested, getting even more nervous. "I'm worried that things would be awkward after that. She might think that I've just been friends with her all this time just so I could date her. I don't know if I could take that."

"You don't need friends that would let a little thing like that come between you," he argued.

"You don't have a friend that means as much to me as she does," he sighed, looking out the window dreamily.

Mr. Washington rolled his eyes. "Saunders," he called to the chauffeur, "can you hurry to the flower shop? I'm getting an overdose of teen angst back here and I don't want to be sick for the interview."

"But of course, sir," Saunders said with a good-natured laugh.

The limo sped up slightly and in moments it was at the flower shop. Michael and Betamon got out, his father waving goodbye and wishing him the best of luck before merging back into traffic. He wasn't sure what kind of flowers to get her and decided that a bouquet of roses was too much, one rose was too corny, and a Venus fly trap was too weird. (The latter suggestion came from Betamon, who felt an instant camaraderie with anything that could catch flies.) In the end, he settled on an assorted bouquet of several flowers. He wasn't very experienced at these kinds of things, but he did know what kind of flowers Mimi liked and he and the florist both thought it looked very pretty. He knew that she loved flowers and felt certain that this would be the best way to tell her how he felt.

As he made his way to her apartment building, he felt butterflies in his stomach, the prospect of telling her making him excited, but also jittery and nervous. He told himself it was stupid. They'd been friends for over a year now, there was no reason to be nervous. Betamon followed, hopping behind him trying to keep up with his partner who was marching deliberately ahead. People turned their heads and whispered, "That's Michael Washington, Jr. He's one of those New York Digidestined."

Michael was above it all, not hearing a word, even the annoyed grunts of Betamon who was struggling to keep up. As he entered the apartment, heart beating rapidly, he was thinking of what life would be like with Mimi. Maybe they'd go on walks in the Digital World. He could see her at a karaoke club, him trying to get her to sing, her giggling and refusing before giving in and singing a song for him. Or maybe she would ask him to play his violin for her. And he would play something sweet and romantic for her, and she'd rise from her seat, clapping. And she'd go over to him and put her hand on his shoulder and lean in, and they'd close their eyes and...

"Michael, slow down!" Betamon protested.

Michael halted and looked back to his partner. "Sorry about that, Betamon," he apologized, coming back from his daydream. "Come on, I'll carry you to the elevator. We just need to hurry. Who knows what could happen in a minute. If I was too late—"

"You could be too early if you keep hurrying," Betamon remarked.

"What? Oh, I didn't think about that," he said worriedly. "Wait, how could I-"

"I'm joking, Michael. All I'm saying is that there's no rush. Just calm down and be yourself. I'm sure she likes you too. Who doesn't?"

Michael relaxed. "You're right," he agreed. "You're right. I'll just give her the flowers and say… and say…"

"Well, just say something nice and honest. Don't go overboard and tell her she's the girl of your dreams."

Michael shuddered. The very word "dreams" sent a chill through his spine. Recently, he had been having some horrible dreams. He'd sit up in bed in a cold sweat after those nightmares. His friends, his family, Mimi, Betamon, and everyone else had been killed by something. The city was a crater, or a rubble-filled wasteland. And then a red-eyed creature of pure evil finally came for him and the darkness swallowed him whole.

He pushed it out of his mind and tried to think of happier thoughts.

Betamon noticed his sudden change of mood and wondered, Does he have nightmares too? Those dreams about the dark man? The monster with the red eyes? He would have to ask him later, however, because the elevator doors opened and he stepped out onto Mimi's floor.

Michael approached Mimi's door, his heart thudding loudly, his hands shaking. He stopped about ten feet from the door and took a deep breath. This was the moment of truth. He just had to stay calm. "Just breathe easy," he told himself. "Stay calm. Stay calm."

Both of them almost leaped right out of their shoes when the door opened wide and Mimi burst from it, Palmon hot on her heels.

"Mimi!" Michael croaked, his face reddening momentarily.

"Michael?" she asked, apparently confused that he was there. And then her expression brightened. "Oh, you remembered!" she cooed, clapping her hands together. "I should have guessed that you would. You never said anything, but I guess you remembered even better than I did. You're so considerate!"

Michael just about melted. "Uh-huh," he said. Betamon rolled his eyes.

"And you even brought flowers! You're so sweet!"

The stupid looking grin on his face widened. He couldn't do much more than laugh bashfully. Betamon poked Michael's ankle with one fin. "What's she talking about?" he asked.

Michael froze. Uh oh. What is she talking about? he wondered, but then he thought quickly. "Well, why don't you tell him, Mimi?"

"Oh, you didn't tell him?" she asked. "Oh well. Betamon, today is the day a friend of ours might be coming back!"

"Who?" Betamon asked for both himself and Michael.

"I almost forgot," she said, looking embarrassed. "But if we hurry we should be able to make it. You see, today is very special. You remember Jin? Jin Takamura?"

Michael and Betamon both froze. They did indeed remember Jin Takamura, and his partner Scarmon. They particularly remembered the pair for trying to blow up New York City and personally trying to kill them both.

"Well," Mimi went on, "today is the day of Jin's parole hearing, and they'll probably let him out!"

"W-what?" Michael asked, his eyes going wide.

Mimi went on obliviously, adding, "And you're so sweet that you brought flowers to welcome him home!"

That's when Michael's heart caved in.

"Three hundred twenty... three twenty-one... three twenty-two..."

Jin Takamura was in the gymnasium of the juvenile hall doing pushups. He had been allowed the privilege of working out as it relaxed him and it was important that he be relaxed for the hearing. The good behavior he'd shown while in the New York City Juvenile Detention Center had gotten him in the good graces of some important people. Even he was surprised when they said he might be getting out soon.

"Three twenty-three... three twenty-four... three twenty-five..."

"You relaxed yet?" the guard on duty asked him. "No need to show off for me, is all I'm saying."

"Whose showing off, Carl?" he asked, calling the guard by his first name. "Besides, it's not like I'm supporting my whole body weight." He gestured at his limp legs, acknowledging that it was only his upper body that he was supporting. "Three twenty-six..."

Carl rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, I'd buy that except that you're doing these pushups one-handed."

Jin smiled, sucking in a breath as he did one last pushup. He'd managed around 280 on his left hand, and now almost 330 on his right. His workout varied at times, but it always left him feeling refreshed. He was panting and sweating, but just the same it felt better than dealing with ball of stress in his gut, knowing that his parole hearing was in less than an hour.

"All right, let's go." He rolled over, pulling his shirt back on, and crawled to his chair.

"Need help?" Carl asked.

"No, I'm fine. Thanks."

Jin Takamura was the toughest guy in juvy, despite being paralyzed from the waist down. Many new arrivals with something to prove mistakenly picked a fight with him, only to end up dragged to the floor and given a broken limb for their trouble. Lean, muscular, and deadly serious, he still mostly kept to himself to read books and somehow managed to stay out of trouble, which meant he had managed to earn the respect of both the other boys and the guards. He stood out from the others for being Japanese, for being smart, and for being tough. And then there was the last thing, which they didn't even know about: he was a Digidestined.

The guardians of the Digital World had seen fit to give him that role, even gifting him with a crest that was energized by dark power: the Crest of Rage. He had gone to the Digital World, but somehow never joined with those original eight children that had saved the world. Instead, he and his digimon had wandered the planet alone, exiled for what he thought might be an eternity. When the Digidestined pursued Myotismon back to Earth, he had been too late to follow them and was stranded. The time difference between the two worlds had been disastrous for him, for while Myotismon laid siege to Tokyo over the course of a few days, two years passed in the Digital World, during which time the Dark Masters had arrived and survival became a daily struggle. After the defeat of Apocalymon, he had remained in the Digital World another three years. His body had aged two years longer than normal, even though, as far as Earth was concerned, he'd only been gone three. So, he could honestly give his age as 14 or 16, whichever he found more convenient.

During his time away, he'd learned to survive on his own, though his partner made that much easier. He'd learned to hunt, to build shelter, and to survive in the wilderness. The deepest forests, the wildest jungles, bone-dry deserts, and frozen glaciers. He'd learned to make weapons and how to hunt and track prey, and it all came in handy for what he'd accepted as his role: rid the Digital World of evil.

It was a simple logic: a Digidestined was supposed to fight evil - that was why they were brought to the Digital World. If the other kids had gone home, then their work was done. Since he remained, he still had a job to do, even if the one who gave him his crest told him it was all a mistake, that he was never supposed to come to the Digital World in the first place, that he was "Unintended." He didn't buy any of it. He'd prove them all wrong. And the easiest way to prove that, to take care of evil digimon, was obvious: kill them all.

And so he'd gone on a long crusade to track, find, and eliminate any "evil doer" he and his partner could. Bandits, militias, former minions of the Dark Masters, and stone-cold psychos. He cared very little for rescue missions or helping out the towns and settlements that hired him, or even for whatever meager rewards they offered him. He just wanted to prove he had a destiny, to finish his work and go back home to Earth, and to satisfy the raging bloodlust he'd developed. When he finally did make it back, he thought he could go back to his normal life... only to find out the world had left him behind and forgotten who he was.

His home was occupied by strangers. The few friends he had didn't recognize him or had moved on. And his mother, the only family he'd ever had? Dead, her ashes interred in a small grave in a neighborhood cemetery. The loss of his old life, his role as an unintended Digidestined, his mother's death, and his feeling of inadequacy against the Dark Masters and the Digimon Emperor left him in search of a purpose; a target. He had wished to fight evil, and the way the universe had treated him led him to believe that human society itself was evil. He needed to do something bigger, something more grandiose, something the whole world would see. And so he chose a target: New York City.

He'd tried to destroy the place, and with Carnagemon, his digimon's Mega form, he'd almost succeeded. Atop a gigantic skyscraper, he'd planned to rain down fire and destruction like some angry, vengeful god. Nobody, he'd believed, would be able to stop him.

But someone did stop him. Mimi. He'd met her in Central Park one night before he'd put his plan into action and saved her from some muggers. That sweet girl who had understood him, comforted him, and took him in. She had taken his rage away and made him understand that his way was wrong, that there was a better way to live than fighting against the world. He'd become a monster and it horrified him that he had almost killed thousands of innocent people. Some days he looked at himself in the mirror and hated the sight of himself. He would live it down for the rest of his life that he had almost become a killer and the guilt wouldn't leave him.

But, nonetheless, he had learned and he was trying. In the face of the taunts and insults of other young men and the daily confrontation with his own horrible past, he was trying. He felt like he was finally turning a corner and leaving the anger and violence behind him. It had taken five years to do it. That, and, of course, the use of his legs.

"Ungh," he grunted, pulling himself into his wheelchair. "Well, let's go. I think I can face the board now."

He could barely remember it. The army helicopter, the tears in his eyes, the explosion that had sent him over the side of the building. And Scarmon, his partner, in the form of Carnagemon, shielding him with his own body as he plummeted to the ground. He had broken his fall and both had survived, but the force was still strong enough to snap his spine. The end result was that he now had two useless limbs. He'd made the best of it, however, and continued to exercise. His time in the Digital World conditioned him, made him strong, and working out was a good way to work through things. He tried to get enough exercise to keep his upper body as strong as it had ever been. Three days a week a physical therapist came in and helped him exercise his legs. (He'd been against it and hated the idea of someone else moving his legs for him, but it kept the muscles from atrophying and she said that it might one day help if he regained the use of his legs.) He was in prime condition and any newcomers to the juvenile hall quickly learned that Jin was nobody they wanted to mess with.

If he'd earned the respect of the inmates with his fighting and his toughness, he'd earned the respect of others with his schoolwork. He'd shown a great ability to learn languages, polishing his English skills and the classes he was taking showed he had natural aptitude for it, although he still made several mistakes, particularly with the letter "L." In any case, his schoolwork and his reluctance to fight except in cases of self-defense had earned him good standing. He had even taken a liking to reading, since he couldn't engage in many physical activities that required running, standing, or walking. It was a good way to pass the time, and in prison there were few things more crushingly horrible than boredom.

He'd done well. So well, in fact, that he wasn't even sure that he was ready to be paroled. He was supposed to be there until he was twenty-one, and the courts judged him to be 14 according to his birth records, but he hadn't been there for more than eight months. Still, it would be nice to get out, go to a real school, see other people, see Mimi without a glass window between the two of them, and, of course, Scarmon.

He wheeled himself into the room with the parole board; three adults sitting at a table in front of them. They had a lot of papers and a few items obscured from view and they were exchanging a few last minute words before they proceeded.

"Okay, inmate #081685," the chairman began, "please state your name."

"Uh, Jin Takamura, sir," he stated, hesitantly. He felt a little nervous. He didn't have a good track record of talking to groups of adults with authority.

"Well, how do you feel today, son?"

"I feel very good, sir," he replied.

"That's good," he continued. "I guess you know how this works, then, don't you? We ask you a few questions then see if you're fit to reenter society. I don't mind telling you that there's a fair chance of that happening."

Jin only nodded. Don't get your hopes up, he told himself. They might just as easily keep you here.

"Then let's get started," he said, taking sip from his glass of water. "First off, are you willing to stay in a youth hostel for a while?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you willing to continue attending school, working towards your diploma once school restarts in the fall?"

"Yes, sir."

"And are you willing to meet regularly with a parole officer who will report on your condition?"

"Yes, sir."

The chairman examined several more of his notes. "Well, Jin, you realize that the violation of such things, especially that last one will result in you coming back here. Even the slightest criminal action will send you back here immediately. You steal so much as a stick of gum and you return here for a long, long time."

"I understand, sir," Jin replied. "I won't be involved in any more crimes."

"As you can imagine, we hear that a lot, son," the chairman remarked. "What would you do if a former associate of yours—"

"What is 'associate'?" he asked, unsure of the word.

"Oh, uh, someone you used to know," he clarified. "If a former associate of yours asked you to help him in a drug deal, just as a one-time thing because he really needs the money, and all you have to do is run a few deliveries for him, what exactly would you say to him?"

Jin cracked a smile. "I don't think Icould run anything for anyone," he said, gesturing at his wheelchair. The board chuckled slightly, and he felt his confidence return. "Seriously, I would tell him that I don't do those kind of things anymore. I've done it before and it didn't get me anywhere. He'd have to find someone else to do it."

"And then—"

"—I'd call the police," Jin quickly added.

"Well, I must say, Mr. Takamura, you've shown remarkable progress since coming here. There is one issue that we must discuss first."

"Yes, sir?"

The chairman held up two plastic baggies. Jin swallowed when he saw what was in them: his digivice and crest.

"This device baffled us when we first received it. We had it examined but determined it was not dangerous or illegal. The same goes for this tag, which we thought may have been gang-related, but found no indication that any gang used it for a symbol."

Jin folded his hands, keeping calm, eyes narrowed and emotionless.

"Are you aware of the testimony given last January before the Japanese Diet? The one regarding the creatures known as digimon? In particular, that of a…" he checked his notes, "Koushiro Izumi?"

"Everyone knows about it, sir," Jin replied.

"Of course," the chairman went on. "Well, his testimony and subsequent pictures taken afterwards have identified these items which were found on you. This electronic device is known as a 'digivice,' used to empower digimon partnered with certain humans. This tag and crest harnesses an individual trait typically for the purpose of further empowerment, though the majority of these crests were destroyed."

Jin was silent.

"I'll be frank with you, Jin. We know your secret. We know you're one of these so-called 'Digidestined.' This was not something you told us or had mentioned at your trial. The conclusion reached was that you were working under one of the creatures, armed, and held the other children at bay on the roof of that building. Now, however, the case is complicated. Details were always sketchy at best, but now we realize that you may have had a greater hand in it than you might have indicated."

Jin hated the chairman at that moment. He despised him for revealing his secret. It was his secret to share, not the world's to flaunt. Now, they all knew it. They knew about him. They knew about Scarmon, would find out that he had been guilty, not an accomplice, but the mastermind, and they would keep him there for another six years. He felt his rage begin to smoulder, and his blood rush through his body as his heart sped up.

"Well, would you care to confirm or deny this?"

Jin kept quiet, managing to keep his temper in check. Those bastards want me to freak out. I won't give them a show. If they wanted to condemn him, let them do it. He wouldn't lie, but he wouldn't give them the whole truth. He would let them judge for themselves.

The chairman sighed. "That's not surprising. There's been a code of silence among Digidestined. Even native children such as Michael Washington have not been totally forthcoming with details until confronted. Still, this council recognizes the good that you and your comrades have done and are capable of. We have counted four children on the tower that night, but five creatures. We believe that you helped to defeat the odd, offending creature and, when captured, you allowed yourself to be imprisoned for the sake of keeping the identity of the others a secret."

Jin kept still, but was reeling from this conclusion. There had been four children, all right... Mimi, Michael, and... "Willis," he thought. "They don't know that Willis has two digimon. They think one of his was mine and that we were trying to stop Carnagemon!"

"Anything you'd care to add?" the chairman asked.

Jin shook his head.

The chairman turned to the woman next to him. "What do you think?" he whispered.

"He seems fine, but I worry about the notes of the hall's psychologist," she answered. "He has issues. Anger issues, guilt issues, and he seems easily prone to depression and violence. And then there are those apocalyptic dreams he's been complaining about."

"But do you think he's stable?"

She thought for a moment. "Yes, I think so. His therapist seems to think so. He's got a good head on his shoulders, but he's a little unpredictable. If he can keep out of trouble, I guess he's harmless."

He turned to the man on his other side. "What about you?"

"I wish he'd say more about the night he fell off that building," the man whispered. "I'd feel a lot better if he'd say something about it. I think he's hiding something."

"But you know how these kids are," the woman said. "They never talk about it unless they have to. Maybe he still thinks he needs to protect the others. Maybe he does. Do you really have doubts that he is who he says he is?"

The man thought a moment. "No, I guess not."

The chairman nodded and turned back to Jin. "Anything else you want to say, son?"

Jin thought for a moment. "Yes, sir," he said. "Look, I've... I've done some things I wasn't proud of. A lot of the time, I'm a little sorry I survived falling off that building. But I'm going to try my best if I can go free. I promise you, I will try to act with honor. I'll make up for any of the bad things that I did."

The board had one last quick discussion among themselves. They looked once more at Jin, then at his file. The chairman considered the situation very carefully, and Jin sat there feeling like he was going to explode unless they made their decision quickly. Finally, however, the chairman chose one of the stamps and loudly imprinted two words upon his file: PAROLE GRANTED.

"And this," said the hostel manager, leading Jin into the room, "is your bed."

"Thanks," Jin told the manager, named Miss Fine. "I think I'm going to like it here." He offered her a genuine smile. It wasn't much, but having a bed that was his own and not in his cell was really pretty nice.

"I hope so," Miss Fine replied warmly. "I'll let you and your friends unpack. Let me know if you need anything."

Jin looked up to Mimi who smiled proudly at him. He returned the smile and said, "Well, here it is: Home Sweet Home." She and Michael had arrived shortly after his parole and had ridden on the bus with him to the St. Augustine's Youth Hostel in downtown New York. The place was a little shoddy and he shared a bedroom with several other children, his bed being the last in a long row. Still, there was a dresser, plenty of bathrooms, and, best of all, a window. It wasn't much but it was far better than a juvenile hall.

"Oh, Jin, I'm so proud of you!" Mimi squealed, hugging him. "And so is Michael!"

"Yeah. Uh-huh. Proud," Michael said begrudgingly. Michael truthfully couldn't think of anyone he disliked as much as he disliked Jin, and he had tried hard to think of someone. First of all, there was the cozy relationship he and Mimi had, and he was more than a little bit jealous of it. They were both Japanese, both had lived in the Digital World for a long time, and the two of them had saved each other's lives. Then there was the kind of person Jin was: a gun-toting delinquent who abused his strength and his digimon for his own selfish desires, doing whatever he wanted with no respect for the law or even common decency. Finally, and most importantly, Jin had tried to kill him not once, but twice; first by nearly strangling him in an alley and then by almost throwing him off a skyscraper during their fight to stop him from destroying New York.

Actually, Michael thought, add "trying to destroy an entire city" to the list of reasons I hate his guts. As far as he was concerned, there were some people who really deserved to be in jail, and Jin qualified. He wasn't buying this Nice Guy act and he hated that Mimi was buying into his story about turning over a new leaf. Hopefully being in a wheelchair would make him a little less of a threat, but somehow he doubted even that would hold Jin Takamura back.

Still, for the sake of Mimi, he tried to be nice. "So, you have a lot of black and gray clothes in your suitcase," he said, making polite conversation.

"Beats an orange jumpsuit," he chuckled. "Oh, uh... by the way, thanks for the flowers, I guess," he added, thinking, What kind of idiot gives an ex-con flowers?

"Well, I guess you'll want to get acquainted with your new home, so maybe Mimi and I—"

"Actually," Jin interrupted, "I need your help, if that's okay."

"Of course!" Mimi said. "We'll be glad to help you get back on your feet!" She paused when Jin made a face. Then she looked down, remembering the wheelchair. "Oh, no, I meant-"

"It's fine, Mimi," Jin said, relaxing. He couldn't stay mad at her, especially not at such an innocent mistake.

"I mean that we're willing to help however we can!" she said. "Right Michael?"

"Sure," Michael said through clenched teeth. "What do you want?"

"I want to find Scarmon again," Jin said. "He said he's been living in the abandoned subway tunnels last time I saw him, so I might need a little help getting around."

"Don't worry," Palmon spoke up. "I'm sure we'll find him. With Betamon and I, we'll get you through anything."

"Right!" Betamon piped up, drawing a glare from Michael.

That's the digimon that nearly killed you, Betamon! he was thinking.

"Thanks," Jin replied, digging out his digivice. "I should be able to use this to find him." He took it out and examined it. He noticed a faint dot on the screen.

"What's it say?" Palmon asked.

"He's near," Jin answered.

"I can't believe I'm actually down here," Michael complained, wrinkling his nose in disgust. These abandoned subway tunnels were revolting. Dirt and garbage littered the floor and homeless people eyed them greedily as they walked by. Mimi was holding her nose, but seemed not to notice the stares they were getting. He was glad the digimon were close by. He couldn't believe anyone would choose to live down there, but then decided that it figured that Jin's partner would choose it for home: a scummy, rotten place for a scummy, rotten digimon.

"Look on the bright side," Jin grunted, pushing his wheels extra hard. "At least you don't have to worry about getting stuck in anything."

"Yeah, but this is pretty gross," Mimi remarked. "I hope we find Scarmon soon. I think I just saw a rat."

"You did, it's right over there," Jin said, pointing.

Mimi shrieked when she saw it and hugged Jin tightly, shutting her eyes in fear. Michael nearly exploded. Why did she go to Jin? He was there, wasn't he? At least she wouldn't have had to crouch to hug him!

The signal on Jin's digivice became stronger and he led them to a tunnel dimly lit by light filtered from the streets above. He rolled to the end of it and found several stacked boxes and a neat pile of bones and burger wrappers.

"Scarmon?" Jin called cautiously.

"About time you got here!" the little black lizard exclaimed, poking his head from one of the boxes.

"Scarmon!" Jin cried.

"Buddy!" Scarmon hollered, leaping into his lap. "You made it!"

"Yeah, I made it," he said, hugging his partner tightly. "They paroled me today. I brought some friends along, too."

Scarmon looked and saw Mimi, Michael, and their respective partners. "Hey, good to see you Mimi, Palmon!" he greeted them.

"Good to see you too!" Palmon exclaimed.

He then turned to the other pair. "Michael. Betamon."

"Scarmon," they said coldly in unison (though Betamon was mostly following Michael's lead).

"Enough greetings!" a new voice declared. "The time has come for seriousness!"

Mimi's eyes went wide as a new figure floated out from the shadows. "Pixiemon!" she cried, running to the small, pink digimon and embracing him.

"Nice to, oof!, see you, oof!, too!" he choked, nearly crushed by the affectionate girl. "Now please let me go before I suffocate."

"Oops. Sorry!" she apologized, releasing him.

"Who's this guy, Scarmon?" Jin asked.

"Well," Scarmon began, "he just showed up here earlier today. He told me to expect the rest of you guys and figured this was a good private place to tell us whatever it is he wants to tell us. I guess he knows Mimi, but I have no idea how he knows me."

"I am Pixiemon, yep-yep!" he declared with pride. "Trainer to champions, ally to the Digidestined, friend to all who strive for peace and happiness!"

Jin looked at the diminutive, cheerful puffball and made a face. "Scarmon, you did try to eat him, right?"

"Yeah."

"Heh. Good boy."

"Ahem!" Pixiemon interrupted irritably. "More respect you should have!"

"Pixiemon trained me and the other original Digidestined and saved us from the Dark Masters, Jin," Mimi explained. "He was deleted, but it looks like he was finally reborn!"

"And it took me a long time to get back to my old self, but I'm finally here, and just in time, too!" Pixiemon added.

"Why's that?" Michael asked curiously.

"Because I have a very important mission to give you," he replied. "Tell me, all of you, have you been having a certain nightmare, over and over again?"

All six confirmed it with their mutual looks of surprise.

"A dream of a world destroyed, everyone but you dead, and the one that caused it, the red-eyed creature of shadows, comes for you at the end?"

All of them looked to each other, then nodded.

"Well, I have bad news for you," he continued. "It is no dream. It is a future of what may be. That creature is real and he is out there right now!"

Michael swallowed. "What's the good news? Or is there any?"

"Oh, there is good news!" Pixiemon told them. "The spirits of the Digital World have given me a message and told me to pass it to you! You three, and some allies that will soon join you, will meet this enemy and face him. Together with your combined strength, you just might be able to stop him and prevent that vision from ever coming true!"

"Whoa, hold it!" Jin spoke up. "I just got out of prison! I just got back together with Scarmon! I spent almost this entire year trying to get my head screwed on straight to start up a new life... and now you want us to fight?"

"Yes," Pixiemon affirmed. "I am sorry, but all of you are needed." He looked to all three humans and their partners for emphasis.

"And what if we refuse?" Jin demanded. "What if we can't or just plain won't play hero for you?

Pixiemon flew up and looked him right in the eyes, his voice serious. "It isn't for me, or even for the Digital World. Hear me now... the Ancient Enemy is making his move, and he exists only to destroy all that lives. If you don't fight, then both Earth and the Digital World will suffer the same fate: both will be swept clean of all life. Both will be utterly destroyed."

On a deserted highway, around midnight, Abner Westmore drove his pickup truck towards the nearest town. Soon he would be able to rest. He had business to take care of, then he could head home to his family. He was getting a little tired and fought to keep his eyes opened. Then, to the side of the road, he saw a fire flaring up from the ditch. A man appeared in front of him waving his arms in the headlights trying to flag him down. Abner stopped the car and got out.

"Mister, you've gotta help me!" the man cried hysterically. "My car crashed! It's on fire and my daughter's inside! I need your help to get her out!"

Abner nodded and ran towards the flaming car at the side of the road. Only once he got down there did he realize that there was no car: there was only a bonfire, with a tire on it to produce more black smoke.

"What the…?"

"Sorry 'bout that," the man said. "But I'll need your truck."

"What?" Abner exclaimed, whirling around to face the man. He backed up in fear as the stranger lunged forward, grabbing his shoulder in an iron grip.

"Besides," he giggled, "I haven't killed anything in almost a day," and rammed his fist through Abner's ribcage.

Walking back to the truck, a dark energy burning the blood from his hand, he smiled jovially. "You're lucky," he addressed the remains of his victim. "You should be glad you didn't live to see what is coming. You'd pity the Digidestined." He got in the truck and turned the ignition. He spoke again, and the twang of his southern accent was gone. "Yes, I'm going to do some truly awful things to them. Their agonized shrieks for mercy will be the prelude to the end of your world."

To be continued…

(Next time: The heroes have been called, but the Ancient Enemy is already a few steps ahead of them...)