On Broken Wings
By: Winterhart
Cold winds whipped through the boy's short brown hair, blowing it across his dark brown eyes. Absentmindedly he brushed it away and continued walking.
Walking a bit more nervously than usual, he noted. With good reason. He was headed to a friend's house, and in order to get there quicker he was cutting through a more undeveloped part of town. A more crime ridden part of town. Silently cursing himself for the fifth time, he quickened his pace.
Practically deserted, the two story buildings yawned at him through doors that had been partially ripped off their hinges, hanging there, creaking in the wind.
'Great,' the boy muttered inwardly 'Start spooking yourself, why don't you.'
"Hey, you!" a burly voice shouted at him. The boy averted his gaze from the group of high school kids heading towards him and walked faster.
The fist hit him suddenly in the back, making him pitch forward onto the dirty pavement. A large hand grabbed his collar from behind and lifted him off the ground.
"What's your name?" the teenager demanded of the smaller boy, holding him in front of his face. The boy's feet were almost a foot from the ground.
"D-Davis Motimiya." He stuttered fearfully. The teenager laughed, showing a large number of yellow, uneven teeth. The rest of the gang joined in.
"So, Davis," the gang leader said, dropping Davis back to his feet "Have you got any cash?"
"No."
The gang leader regarded him with disgust. An idea must have occurred to him, because he smiled and reached into his pocket.
"Want a joint?" he asked Davis, shaking a box in his face.
"No-no thanks." Davis stuttered, going pale, fear showing clearly on his face.
The leader lost his smile and scowled.
"Let me get this straight," he snarled, some spit dribbling from his mouth "You walk through MY patch of land, and I don't get any smokes or cash from you?"
Davis, quaking with fear, did not reply.
"That's not very fair, is it, Davis ma' man?" he turned to the rest of the gang "What are we going to do with our afternoon?"
"Beat him to a pulp!" one of them interjected
"Hang him from the second story window!" another added.
Similar shouts rang out. The gang leader looked at them, then back at Davis, wearing a very nasty smile indeed.
He gave an almost invisible jerk of his head. The rest of the gang let out a shout and rushed at Davis....
...Who could do nothing but stand there in terror. One of the boys' fists connected squarely with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Another kicked him in the side.
The gang leader stood there calmly, smirking, watching his men pulverize Davis.
A fist connected with the side of his head, and his world began to spin. His vision darkened.
'They're going to kill me.' He thought as blow after blow was delivered. The pain was incredible, but it lessened as he slipped into unconsciousness.
Before his world went black, the blows stopped, and frightened yells of the gang were heard, along with pounding footsteps. They were gone.
Davis slipped into the bliss of unconsciousness.
The evening sun filtered into the bare room through the small, high window. It illuminated the bruised and unconscious figure of a boy with brown hair.
'Where am I?' the boy wondered, slowly opening his eyes 'This isn't my bed....'
The pain of his injuries kicked in, and he let out an audible moan.
His eyes fell open the window. Very, very suddenly he realized he was not alone.
Another person, a boy about his age, was sitting on a chair in front of the window. The bright sun contrasted so that all that was visible of the other boy was the silhouette of his head.
"Who're you?" Davis asked in a dazed voice, sitting up painfully. "Did you save me?"
The person nodded slightly.
"Thanks, I'm grateful."
"I wouldn't be." The person said coldly, standing up. His face became clear.
It was the Digimon Emperor.
"You!" Davis hissed, only it came out very weakly.
The Emperor grinned triumphantly.
"Why-why'd you-"
"I saved you because I had a use for you." the Emperor, also known as Ken, said curtly, cutting Davis off.
Davis looked up at the figure towering over him defiantly.
"Go ahead. Kill me." He said simply, though courage echoed in his voice. It did not sway Ken, however.
"Why would I go through the trouble of that?" he said almost lazily "I'm just here to make sure the Digiegg of Courage never glows again."
"What-what are you going to do to me?" Davis asked, his voice breaking, more from the pain of his injuries than fear.
Ken grinned and brandished the whip he carried with him.
"Make you wish you were dead."
Davis looked at it in a unbelieving kind of way. For a split second fear flitted across his face, but it vanished as quickly as it had come.
"I'm not afraid of you." Davis said in as steady of a voice as he could manage.
CRACK!
Davis staggered back, one hand clapped against the left side of his face. Pulling it away he saw blood smeared across his hand.
Ken watched with interest as Davis rose slowly to his feet. His injuries were causing him a great deal of pain, but he refused to cry out. Eyes blazing, he faced his opponent.
"I'm not going to let you win."
CRACK!
A large gash appeared on Davis' side, and immediately began oozing blood.
"Pity." Ken said passively "It'd make things much easier on yourself."
Davis did not reply or cry out, though his eyes began to sting involuntarily. He wouldn't let him win. The others were depending on him.
CRACK!
"You don't know when to quit." Ken commented as Davis staggered backwards, clutching his side.
'So this is how it feels to be helpless.' Davis thought in a dazed sort of shock. It was true. With Veemon by his side he had always felt strong, invulnerable.
But now Veemon wasn't here. He was alone. He felt horribly weak without his Digimon partner. The protection that he had taken for granted was gone.
Davis cringed as Ken raised the whip again.
CRACK!
Davis leapt to the side, the blow missing him by millimeters. The dodge had its cost, however. Davis fell to the ground, shaking, in more pain than he thought possible. Unbidden, tears began leaking from his eyes.
Ken lashed out again and again, and Davis was unable to move to get away. He still did not cry out. For the sake of not letting Ken know he was succeeding, he held in the bitter screams within him.
The whip cracks ceased, leaving Davis shuddering and crying on the dirty floor. Long, bleeding gashes covered his back and sides.
Ken wrapped the whip around Davis' neck and pulled him to his feet.
"Not so brave now, are we." He said softly.
Davis did not answer, and tears of pain and despair flowed down his face, unable to stop. He had never felt worse in his life, and he wished he could die to end the agony.
Ken yanked on the whip, pulling it from his neck, leaving a ring of blood. Before Davis could fall, he grabbed his collar with one hand and kept him standing.
He slammed him into the wall behind him.
"Now who's won?" Ken said in barely a whisper. His face was very close to Davis'. Dangerously close. Davis could feel his breath on his cheek.
Cold eyes. Icy blue, that held no warmth or life. Barely human. Those eyes bored straight into Davis' soul.
Ken leaned forward even more, and to Davis' disgust, licked the blood off his face.
He grinned, and let Davis' tattered form collapse to the ground in a heap, sobbing. Heavy footsteps signified his departure.
Davis just lay there, sobbing, in pain from all the bruises and gashes all over him, and from helplessness.
'Just let me die. Please, let me die...........'