I don't own digimon.
Episode 2
Calm before the storm
The person in question was an elderly man, possibly in his mid to late sixties. He was dressed in a forest green military top with the front pockets and a pair of matching military pants. A US Army tag hung over the heart with a pumpkin shaped badge stitched onto the left pocket. Finishing off the look, was a head of whitish grey hair and a pair of slightly faded brown eyes.
"It's good to see you, Uncle Sam." Derek remarked and saluted the man, staring right into the man's blue eyes. "I mean, sir."
'Uncle Sam' only laughed, cracking a wide smile as a short boy walked up. Unlike Sam though, he was dressed in a lavender trenchcoat and combat boots. A hunting rifle hung on his back, going with his lavender military cap and sand blonde hair. Finishing off the look was a pair of hazel eyes and kind of blank expression on his face.
"Oh, it's you people." the digimon announced and brought forth a briefcase, handing it to Derek. "Sam has asked to give you people these new toys."
"It's to good to see your energetic as ever, Donut." Derek greeted and took the container, setting his briefcase down in the process.
"Whatever." Donut answered and watched Derek open the box up, revealing a collapsible baton, a pair of contact lenses and a couple of wind-up mice. "Please treat this stuff with the utmost care."
"Of course."
Very carefully, he moved the first lense up to his eye and applied it. In retrospect, he probably should have asked for a mirror, but the thought didn't occur to him. The second lense was a similar story, with the only difference being it took a little less time than the first.
Analyzing…
Logiamon
Champion, Virus
Speciality: Frost-Make
.
Derek: Well this is new.
Sam: Indeed. These are digital analysis lenses, or DAL.
Derek: These come from the Science Division, I presume?
Sam: Of course.
Analysis complete.
Derek shifted his gaze back over to Sam as Rora watched on.
"Is there a way we can give Rora sight, sir?" the accountant whispered, only for Sam to sigh.
"I wish I knew." Sam whispered as Derek focused on Donut.
Scanning...
Scorerermon
Champion, Data
Speciality: Gun Arts
.
Donut: I hate my analyzer entry.
Rora: Why?
Donut: Because it does absolutely nothing.
Rora: Cool!
Donut: You aren't listening at all, are you?
Analysis complete.
Derek turned his attention to Sam and took a deep breath.
"Permission to test the wind-up mice through a sparring match between Rora and Donu, sir?" the accountant asked and stared towards the drill sergeant.
"Permission granted. Ready Rora for battle." Sam ordered and made a quick glance towards Donut, giving a nod.
"Bring it on." Donut whispered as Sam handed over a rifle. "You ready, Rora?"
Rora nodded and Derek threw a mouse out, watching it make a high pitched noise. Somehow, this was enough to get Rora's focus to shift to Donut's face.
Gun Art: Scattershot!
The scorerermon fired his gun off, watching as a v-shape formation of projectiles shot towards the ice naga.
Frost-Make: Shield!
A thin wall of ice formed around Rora, protecting her somewhat from the gunfire.
Frost-Make: Shards!
Gun Art: Full Auto!
The 'shield' shattered, shooting out razor-sharp bits of ice towards the mage. As she did that, Donut switched the magazine on his gun to that of a drum and fired. He watched as the bullets shot out, seeming to fire in almost a stream-like shape towards the ice fragments. But, all that seemed to do was cancel both attacks out.
Gun Art: Bang!
Frost-Make: Mist!
Once more, Donut switched magazines, deciding to just shove a large object into the gun and fired. This time, a large bullet shot out, with the ice naga countering with a breath of chilled air. Which, was enough to slow it down and
While this all happened, the mouse made another high-pitched noise and Donut smashed his foot into it.
"Hey!" Derek shouted and Sam focused in on his partner, the sky seeming to darken as the drill sergeant did.
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS, SOLDIER?" Sam shouted as he seemed to grow in size, quickly towering over everyone while thunder boomed in the background. "THAT WAS RORA'S! IT WAS TO HELP WITH HER BLINDNESS!"
He then grabbed hold of Donut's head as his eyes seemed to lose their shine.
"Sam…" Donut whispered as Derek grabbed hold of his master, pulling him away at the last.
"Uncle Sam, sir." Derek added, watching his superior slowly return to his usual demeanor. The sky cleared up as the sound of thunder seemed to drift away. "You had one of your 'flashbacks, sergeant."
Sam took a deep breath and stared towards the ground, muttering something under his breath.
"I'm sorry, recon." he whispered as tears began to roll down his face. "I saw their faces, storming through the jungles, slaughtered by those damn bots…"
Both men took a deep breath and sighed. They and a couple others were some of the lucky ones, having managed to overcome the many trials and tribulations set up by the bot empire. But with it came the casualties of hundreds, possibly thousands of people died throughout the campaign. They ranged in a variety of ages, from newborn babies to the elderly. It didn't matter to whoever did the selection process. Possibly, the strain of limiting the amount of information following the worldwide release of 'The Motomiya Tapes' in the early 2000's.
"I doubt those evergreen people are doing much better." Sam whispered and took a deep breath. "Who promotes a dog to being a chosen?"
Rora gave him a confused glance as Donut did something similar.
"They're probably just rumors." Derek added as he returned his attention to the group. "Sam, do you want to come with Rora and I to the fabric store?"
Sam gave a nod and motioned for his partner to follow. They made their way through the quite straight forward streets of Pacific Heights, passing through what seemed like the capital of barber shops. Though, it was more of a haven to just get a quick cut than anything else.
"Hi Uncle Sam!"
"Good to see you, Sam!"
"Glad to see you're holding up, Uncle Sam!"
"Keep up the good work, Sam!"
Donut and Rora made a quick glance towards the drill sergeant, quite confused by what was even going on. So, they turned their attention to the buildings around him. Parts of it seemed familiar to them, like the seemingly eternal 'jams' of the recording studio and the exotic scent of fruit from the market. But for all that stuff,
"Okay…" Rora answered as her gaze focused on some sound she had heard. It sounded like a mix of metal scratching on more metal and a cat dying. Though, she wasn't quite sure where the sound was coming from, making it a fool's errand at best and an absolute nightmare at worst. But just as she heard it, the sound faded away.
For now, things seemed to be on the up and up for them. Already, at least two of the six group members had managed to gather together, leaving the whereabouts of the other four a bit of a mystery.
"People of Pacific Heights, how are you doing?" a voice called out, forcing most of our heroes to stare up towards the sky. There, a single man stood on a floating platform. Though, it looked to be the same one that Derek had kicked in the balls. "It's been a long time since our paths crossed with yours. Truly a shame, if you ask me. So, we're going to finish what we started!"
"Wonderful." Sam whispered as he pulled his phone out, proceeding to dial someone. "Cover me.."
"Yes sir!" the rest of the group answered and took a couple of steps away from the drill sergeant. But at the same time, close enough to intervene should something go wrong.
.
To the students that made up her kindergarten class, Lydia Ayers was a magician.
Maybe it was the way she seemed to have words, seeming to string them along a conversations with a sense of glee. She could untie most knots with the utmost ease and seemed to be able to keep her cool under the most stressful of situations.
Yet, Lydia knew otherwise.
"I understand why you called and all, but the answer is still no." the teacher whispered as her gaze focused on a picture frame…
Next Time: Do you believe in magic?
