Greetings all. This story is set far away from all universes covered in the series' and so on. It's rated for violence, language, that sort of thing.

Blood in the Sand

By the Plywood Fiend

Chapter 1

"Gate of Destiny."

With a mechanical whir, the gate opened and from it shot a blinding white blast of energy which consumed the half dozen Mortisamon in its path. Against the backdrop of the burning town, the would-be beacon of hope that MagnaAngemon had just released upon the enemy seemed significantly diminished.

Below him, the surviving Gazimon, Leafmon and Tsunomon were still flooding out of the still standing buildings. Terrified Pukamon flew past him in groups of threes and fours. Most were making their way towards the woods which would hopefully provide them with some cover, others were choosing to simply cower behind him. He didn't have time to turn around and urge them to run with the others.

Elsewhere, as another of the small wooden structures was blown apart by the Mortismons' assault, Birdramon snatched two of the creatures in her talons and made for the sky. As she reached the layer of smoke from the fires which was beginning to obscure the moonlight, she released the snarling creatures from her clutches and watched as they plummeted back to the ground.

"Meteor wing!" She cried as she released a volley of fireballs into the assembled mass of enemies that had placed themselves outside of the village. These creatures were striking from a distance, laying waste to the once picturesque settlement one building at a time while others of their number swept through the streets and destroyed any Digimon they came across. MagnaAngemon and the small army that he'd managed to muster over the months had destroyed hundreds of the beasts in this and past battles, but for every one that was deleted, two more seemed to spring up in their place. This was the fifth settlement that they'd tried in vain to defend.

"Spiking strike!" Shouted a Stingmon as he plunged his arm mounted blade into the vaguely humanoid chest of another Mortismon. His target reared in pain and stumbled backwards a few steps before breaking apart. Fighting aside his weariness, barely, the Stingmon spread his wings and took to the air in search of another target. No sooner had he found one however, then another building exploded. This one was nearby, and a flying piece of flaming debris caught him in the face.

He fell backwards against the ground. His brain was screaming at his body to get up but the blow had left him dazed and by the time his coordination had become unscrambled enough to allow him to stand up, the Mortismon was already hovering over him with his staff outstretched. The timing was perfect, it could almost have been planned.

"Death Lance." Uttered an expressionless voice, and from the staff shot out a pointed ray of dark energy which pierced the Stingmon through the chest. He screamed in agony as the effects of the attack lingered before he finally disintegrated.

This was how it always was. More Digimon were destroyed in each battle and the Mortismons' numbers only seemed to swell. Things were bad, and they were going to get worse.

The rookie and In-training Digimon that were on their way to the forest were all but gone. Everyone else was either trapped or hiding within the doomed buildings or had been destroyed.

MagnaAngemon watched as two more buildings below him detonated. No doubt each of those contained more defenceless Digimon. Amidst the destruction, emptied houses stood untouched, simply because there was no one in them to be destroyed. The weaker the target it seemed the more appealing a kill they made.

His forces were still fighting. Unimon and Birdramon were firing shot after shot at the enemy. None of the ones they hit seemed too concerned about their impending deletion. Karatemon was slicing through Mortismon after Mortismon. Angewomon it seemed was busy trying to prise a trapped Digimon out from under a pile of rubble. None of it was making any difference, this village was doomed and sooner or later this would all start up again in another settlement, and no matter how many more Digimon they managed to convince to stand with them against the enemy, it wouldn't make any difference. They couldn't stop the oncoming tide of destruction on their own. But what choice did they have but to try?

"Gate of Destiny."

"WAKEY! WAKEY!"

Nathan shot upright in his bed as Sepikmon burst into his room, merrily banging his boomerang on a frying pan. Half asleep, the image of a mask wearing creature shrieking insanely and waving blunt instruments in the air was a terrifying sight. Once the adrenaline forced the weariness away however he soon found himself staring irately and half naked at the resident lunatic.

"Morning." Sepikmon said innocently.

Despite himself, Nathan couldn't help but laugh. No matter how much of an uphill struggle it was, Sepikmon and the others flat out refused to let him linger with his depression. He frequently found himself thinking that without him, Gatomon and Salamon, he'd probably slit his throat two weeks back.

Well, truth be told that probably wasn't true. He wasn't ready to concede defeat and give up all hope of getting home just yet, and until he did find a way home this 'Digital World' wasn't a particularly bad place, despite the occasional indignity like semi-psychotic alarm clocks.

"Morning." He replied at last.

"Sleep well?"

"Yeah, sure. I slept well."

"Fantabulous. Now hurry up and get dressed, we need you to peel yesterday's ghastly cheese residue out of the grill."

With an almost sadistic chuckle, Sepikmon retreated back through the door and closed it quietly behind him. Nathan stayed put for a few moments until he was certain that he wasn't about to come barging back through and scare him half to death again before getting up and retrieving his clothes from the wardrobe.

In the dining area of the restaurant, Gatomon uttered a hasty good morning and shoved a cooling omelette towards him before returning her attention to the multitude of eggs on the stoves.

Nathan took his breakfast to a seat by the window and watched a group of Koromon playing tag by a fountain as he ate. There were times such as this one when this strange existence which for whatever reason he'd found himself in seemed almost like a holiday. But the grim realisation that he'd been torn away from home, perhaps never to return soon dispelled any such illusions.

Once again Nathan found his thought processes interrupted as Salamon appeared out of nowhere and pounced on top of his head. She developed a habit of doing this pretty much whenever Nathan was in sight. This could make tasks such as eating and using an oven pretty cumbersome.

"Why do you like it up there?" He asked the heavy lump atop his cranium, "You do know I've got dandruff right."

"Salamon honey," Gatomon said, "Don't pester the slave. It's counterproductive."

Reluctantly, Salamon leapt down onto the table and then onto the floor. Nathan finished the last remnants of his breakfast and then to his dismay learned that Sepikmon had not been joking about the cheese in the grill.

Gradually, the morning crowds begun to appear for breakfast. It was the usual faces, including a Kiwimon who always sat in the same corner and stared out of the same window for hours on end, an oddly flirtatious Wizzardmon and a group of four Gazzimon who were under the misguided assumption that they could sing, (as the village often had the misfortune of noticing).

Nathan's time was spent performing assorted chores befitting a Restaurant worker such as washing dishes and removing Numamon slime from the floor. The day dragged out like all the ones before it. Nathan had lost count of how long he'd been here. Probably a month but when all the days were spent doing exactly the same thing it was easy to lose a sense of time.

Nathan's lunch hour arrived an hour after the main lunchtime crowd had been and gone. He took his lunch to one of the outside tables where the overpowering smells of the kitchen were less evident. The streets were mostly empty at this time of day. Normally that was the way he preferred it. Back home he found he was happier, or at least more comfortable when he was the only one around. Now, when no one was around then there was no one to question just how utterly alone he was now. His family, his friends, they were all on another world. Hell maybe another dimension. There weren't even any humans on this world.

"Nathan."

The voice was not a familiar one, and was said with enough force to startle Nathan from his inactivity, and also cause him to spill some of the soup he was eating on his trousers.

"What the…?" He turned around and gasped. Standing before him, shattering his preconceptions of the facts of the world and existence was a human male.

Ordinarily this would be the kind of man that Nathan would shy away from. His face was hard and littered with scars, his head was shaven which emphasised the image of fierceness. One of his front teeth was missing and the clenched fists that hung on the tense arms looked like they had been used more then once on someone's face. Normally, this was the kind of fact that you'd expect to see on a convict or a street thug.

These weren't normal times however, and at the sight of this man, Nathan could not help but feel a surge of hope. If there were more humans then just him here then maybe there were people who knew how they got here, and perhaps people who could move between one world and the other as they pleased.

"Who," Nathan stopped, the excitement choking his voice. "Who are…?"

The man landed a savage blow to Nathan's midsection which sent him to the floor in a wheezing, crumpled heap.

"We didn't actually want you." The man said, pulling one of Nathan's arms away from the gut that he was cradling and with a swift pull dislocating it.

Nathan would have screamed, had he sufficient air in his lungs to allow it. Instead he simply lay on the grass, his mind numb with shock and his body struggling to take in one agonising lung full of oxygen after another.

"See, you're not supposed to be here."

A savage kick in the ribs sent Nathan into a short lived roll. Some practical part of his head was screaming at his to get up, but his body refused to oblige. He came to a stop almost a meter away from his attacker. He was flat on his back, breathing the shallow breaths of a dying creature and watching almost disinterestedly as a heavy boot slammed down on his ribs, pinning him to the ground. It wasn't like he could run away anyway but perhaps the newcomer thought differently. Maybe this was just one more painful indignity which he could put him through. Who could say?

"You were a mistake you pathetic little turd." Each word was spat out with unconcealed disgust. "We chose someone worthwhile. Someone personally selected by the Prince. Can you imagine that? And look what we get instead. Some fucking pipsqueak waitress who works for a cat."

The man paused to spit in Nathan's face. On top of everything else this was pretty hard to care about.

"The Prince doesn't like mistakes, so he sent me to get rid of you. I've been looking forward to this for a long while now."

He lifted one arm in front of Nathan's face, making certain that he could see it. Nathan thought that he was going to slam the clenched fist into his head until his skull collapsed, or maybe just strangle him to death.

But that didn't happen. Instead the man's arm began to change, the saggy flesh seemed to shift out of existence to be replaced by a dull grey metal. Three sharp looking claws which looked like they could cut through the side of a tank extended from the tip of the new limb. Slowly, the arm began to lower itself towards Nathan's throat.

To be continued.