That day I learned what the inside of a jail cell looks like, so I don't think I passed my interrogation. I don't regret having gone with the guys, though. I had to try and mislead them. And I think I might have succeeded.

It started off like typical government bull crap. They had me empty my pockets (and took my phone, assholes) before stuffing me into the backseat of a black Chevy SUV. Man, they must have meant business. They would have brought a sedan for a typical pickup, but no, they sprung for an SUV. I actually felt honored, and I'm not gonna lie, it would have felt good if I was, I dunno, receiving an award or something.

At some point during the trip I was blindfolded. Honestly, I complied with that calmly because I saw it coming from a mile away. More cloak and dagger bull. My escorts wouldn't say a word to me the whole drive, but that was okay. That was just another day in the car for me, really.

The blindfold remained until I was sat down in the most comfortable chair on the face of the planet. Some interrogation! It was so soft and leaned back at just the perfect angle. Its floral design was a pretty nice contrast to all the gray metal in the room. Grey floors, grey ceiling, three grey walls, and one mirror that reflected all the grey. I only saw that all because of a swinging lamp above me whose light was so white it made all the gray stuff look even greyer. Typical interrogation room. Plus a comfy chair.

I had about an hour to take in the atmosphere, if you can call it that, before a woman in a formal business suit and skirt herself - though with some suggestive modifications - walked in. The first thing my questioner would ask me was not what I knew about the digital world. It also wasn't about what I had seen Digimon do and whether their powers could be harnessed and weaponized. The question was even more diabolical, even more sinister than that. The woman looked me over and asked me, "Donut?" as she held one out to me.

"Is it jelly-filled?" I asked suspiciously. You know me, I'm a picky eater. I mentioned that already.

"It is," the FBI agent affirmed as she nodded.

"No, thanks, then. I'm not a jelly-filled guy. And no, don't offer to get me another kind of donut. I'm hungry as shit, but I'd rather not swallow whatever sort of truth serum you're trying to slip me." Sounds like I'm joking, right? Not quite. I half-believed that was the intent. Lack of denial from the agent is what made me fully believe it. "And while I'm at it, the slutty skirt isn't gonna win you any points from a gay guy. Did you all actually do your research on me before picking me up? I feel like I'm doing your job for you."

"Mr. Loon, we're wondering if you've noticed any odd behavior from your friends or family. Maybe, being gone for long periods of time or giving you the cold shoulder...?"

"Ooh, good first question. Vague enough so that if I truly have no connection to what you're interested in, I can't find out." Boy, I'd better not get arrested by local cops. They'd never put up with my bullshit. The FBI only did it because they had to. "No, nothing weird behavior wise. Parents still love me, sister's still a bitch, Facebook friends are still nothing but favors on apps."

The interrogator followed her training and didn't lose her cool. "Mr. Loon, while you've been away, members of my team examined your house for traces of what we're chasing. A trail, if you will." As vague as she tried to be, the word chasing said a lot. It implied something that could run. Something alive. I dunno what kind of fancy machine could detect that Digimon had been in my house, but it didn't seem completely impossible. You know, considering the whole giant monster thing. This was believable by comparison. "We just want your help tracking it down before people get hurt. The government can be very rewarding when its purposes are served."

"Then can you explain to me why there are so many homeless veterans? Nah, you can promise me that I'll get into whatever college I want, maybe, even admit me for free, but you can't bribe me that way if I don't want to go to college." I leaned in and slyly hinted, "If you want to negotiate for information, you'll have to consider my values." Honesty, I was completely improvising. Hey, I wasn't going to escape a government facility by sitting idly by.

The sly snake across from my seat smirked. She likely thought she had just gained some ground in getting me to loosen my tongue. I expect she was a rookie on the job since she couldn't maintain a straight countenance, a thought which made me feel much less honored than I did before. "Is that so? What would incentivize you to serve your country then?"

Oh, this was too easy. All I had to do was get the interrogator to leave me unsupervised and I could walk on out of there if I was lucky. So I started listing conditions, counting them off with my fingers as if I'd thought of them prior. "Full immunity for prior involvement in the matter would be nice. I could also use a new acoustic guitar. Anything from Ibanez will do as long as it runs you $2,000 or more. And yes, I expect to see a receipt. Finally, most importantly... I won't talk to anybody until there's a plate of plain cheese pizza straight from Leaning Tower of Pizza along with a salt and pepper shaker. Packets are also acceptable. Deal?" Hell, maybe if I was lucky I'd actually get all that shit.

I got a nod from the agent. "I'll consult my superior and see what he thinks." And that was it. She walked out. And locked the door behind her! Damn! I guess it was never gonna be that easy, but that was still disappointing.

I was left alone with the silence then. Mostly silence. I could hear another door open or close a couples times every few minutes. But I couldn't hear another voice until there was a knock on the wall and a female asking me, "Oye, is someone there?" Oh, yeah, she was definitely Mexican. Or from some Spanish-speaking country. Or maybe Brazil, or some- okay, point is, she was foreign. Didn't know where from at the time. But probably from the Americas somewhere. I assumed.

I wasn't sure about replying, but one doesn't break out of a government facility by sitting idly. So I knocked back and hush-whispered, "Yeah, they holding you to?"

"Yes! Who are you?" The accent was real thick, making it tougher to understand than speaking through a wall already did.

I figured, you don't break out of a government facility without allies. So I tried to let my guard down a bit. "I'm Dylan... And I'm not one of you, but I know all about you and... them." I decided it was less important for her to be polite and introduce herself first in this scenario. Manners could wait. But I also had to be cautious in case she actually didn't know anything. "And that's why they have me. What's your story?"

"My name is Jimena Montoya Bautista-" Oh, yeah, that was from somewhere that speaks Spanish. "-And I..."

"...something wrong? You can trust me, I swear. I don't know how to prove that, but you can."

"...I speak bad English. Can't tell the story."

Oh, boy, that sucked! Just when I thought I was making a friend in prison, boom, language barrier. Doesn't it really suck when that happens? Boy, if I didn't speak Spanish fairly well I would have been in quite a bind. "Cuéntamelo en español." Good thing she wasn't Brazilian or something. No offense to Brazilians, mind you, but I don't speak Portuguese.

Jimena told me she was from the república dominicana - that's the Dominican Republic for you laymen and laywomen - which in turn told me there were more digidestined than just Brad and Josh. Perhaps they were all over the globe operating in secret, and I was in on their secret society. Sounds a lot cooler when I put it that way. Anyway, she had been collaborating with some of my fellow Americans on investigating the cause of the firewall's instability, but it seemed like the digidestined as a whole knew about as much as I did about that. Which is none, by the way. But at some point she was yanked from the digital world. Yanked, as in she didn't mean to teleport back to my place but was forced to. At that point she was promptly apprehended and brought here. "He estado aquí por una semana." I've been here for a week.

Well, guess I wasn't getting my constitutional right to a speedy trial either. "Qué les has dicho?" I asked the girl. What have you told them?

Jimena said that whenever she was approached by agents she clammed up and went silent. Kind of had to admire the stubbornness, but one doesn't break out of a government facility by doing nothing. Still, I was shocked they didn't resort to torture yet. "¿Por qué nos quiere la-" I didn't catch all that. She said it fast, and the last thing was a word I didn't recognize.

"¿Otra vez?"

"¿Por qué nos quiere la se y a?" That's why I didn't understand her. She didn't say a word. She said three letters: CIA. She asked why the CIA wanted us, and by that indirectly their stake in what was going on. But there was a bit of a discrepancy that bugged me.

"¿La CIA? Yo me detuve por la FBI. El gobierno debe estar serioso sobre obtener información." I'm not 100% sure I said that right, but I'm sure Jimena knew I meant that I was taken by the FBI, not the CIA, and if all hands were being called in the government must be real serious about whatever they're after. "Jimena, we've gotta get out of here."

"How?" Oh, man, Jimena knew how to ask the tough questions. But I really only had one idea.

"No clue. If you're digidestined, where's your digimon? Do you have your digivice?"

"Armadillomon run from the CIA," Jimena responded in her best English through the wall, "Don't know where. A man take the digivice, don't know where." Shit, I didn't like the thought of our only chance of rescue being a digimon who hadn't even shown up for a week. I couldn't exactly hold it against him, but it meant he was out of the equation. The digivice, on the other hand, inspired some wheels in my head to turn.

"Jimena, can you use the digivice to talk to just anybody else with one?" She asked me to repeat that question, and I did, more slowly.

"Eeehm... sí, but you need know to who you want talk."

"That's okay! I know just who to contact. Get me your digivice, and I'll get you out of here. Deal?" No, it wasn't a perfect plan, and it wasn't an easy plan, but it was a plan. One doesn't escape a government facility without a plan.

Jimena didn't really get any time to give me a definite sí or no answer on whether she was on board with the plan. I heard her door open and I think the same woman who was with me is the one who asked my new Dominican friend, "Honey? Are you hungry?" I guess she lied about calling her superiors. Guess I'm down to three electrics, no acoustic. Well, shit.

I heard female screaming from the next room, at which point I feared the worst: they decided to go ahead with torture. I thought the woman was hitting Jimena over and over. Someone was being beat up good with all those thuds. One more sounded like a body hitting the floor, and the screaming stopped. But it turned out nobody was being tortured. Not Jimena, at least. She called through the wall, "¡Espérame! I go to look for my digivice!"

Holy shit! She was breaking out! I guess she wasn't taking the stealthy approach... and honestly, my first hope was that I didn't get any flak for her stupid decision and/or poor execution of a good decision. But damn, the way she brought down that FBI agent was like something straight out of an action movie! And there I was in the cell right besides, waiting for her to come get me out in a blaze of glory... okay, suddenly I don't like the action movie reference anymore. Makes me look kind of useless.

In all honesty, though, I was. Once my Dominican friend was gone I had nothing to do but wait... and wait... and wait... Man, she must have beat that FBI/CIA/WTF agent down hard, because the whole time I did not hear her get up or leave. But man, was I bored! In all honesty, as long as I had the time and privacy behind a locked door I briefly considered getting a load off, but I figured there were sure to be cameras watching.

Oh, shit. Cameras. If someone was actively watching them, they were sure to have witnessed Jimena's breakout. What's worse, for all I knew we were being recorded auditorily. And that means we'd have A) confirmed that we have knowledge of whatever they want and B) probably given them a lot of other information through our conversation. Shit, I didn't like that thought at all.

I think I just knew something unpleasant would be walking through the door as soon as I heard the lock click. Lock clicking just tends to precede bad things. When the door swung open, there was a person with a gun in her hand. I thought it was my time then. What made it particularly scary is that it wasn't even an adult. They sent a little girl of no older than 13 to kill me. Wait a minute- "Encontré una pistola. ¡Tómalo!"

Oh, hell no! "Are you crazy? I can't shoot somebody!" My objection was overruled when the pistol's handle was shoved into my hand.

"Then don't shoot. But you can scare." Okay, I couldn't argue with that. A weapon was better than not having a weapon. Thing is... I'd never even seen a gun in real life before. Using one, yeah, right. But after some tinkering, I found out how to check the magazine. Fifteen rounds. So, enough to kill one guy if I get a lucky shot.

Jimena handed me her digivice then, and I got to work. "Bradley! Josh! Either of you there? I would really appreciate a quick response!"

I got one. It was Brad. "Dylan? Holy shit, are you using a digivice? Where'd you get one?"

"Not important! Listen, is there some way you can track this thing and find me? I'm in one hell of a bind. If you're in the digital world, get back here before the firewall closes and bring Garurumon if you can."

"Dylan, what's going on?"

"Just fucking do it, Brad!" I gave the machine back to Jimena. "Well... Somebody's coming, I hope. There's no way they're unaware of our escape, so right now we have to hide."

"No!" Jimena objected, "The digivice says Armadillomon is here. We must find him!" So the digivice could track its partner Digimon? Man, who needs a smart phone when you've got a digivice? I considered that, and damn my soft heart, I couldn't really leave this Armadillomon behind. I thought of Veemon. My friend never left me for dead, and I was alive because of that, so there was no way I could ask the girl or her digimon to do that. Man, right in that situation I kinda wished he was there.

"Okay, fine, but Jimena? We don't have time to be heroes. We grab Armadillomon and go as soon as help arrives. That's it. Okay?" I got silence as the answer, but silence is just a form of passive acceptance. Maybe it's hard to argue with the guy holding a gun, too.

We would have to search the building. I guess even the digivice had limits. We knew Armadillomon was in the building, and that was about it. But we had no clue as to the layout of the building, no idea of its square footage, height, and possibly depth (yeah, try and tell me a secret government building doesn't run far underground. Let's see if you convince me). So it looked like we were wandering blind. I'm not experienced with firearms, but it didn't take a genius to figure out pointing it downwards was the best way to avoid shooting my friend by accident. That kinda thing seemed much less funny now that I wasn't playing Halo.

I was shocked each second that nobody picked us up. We had to have crossed at least one camera or security laser or, I dunno, something. I thought I couldn't escape a government facility by meandering like a bull through a china shop, but that was exactly what was happening. If I didn't so badly want things to be easy, I would have been concerned it was all too easy. But easy was good at the time, I thought, so there was no "too easy."

At first it was okay. We had time, it seemed. But it quickly grew boring. This room was empty, that room was insignificant. At that point it was just tedious. "Jimena, we'll get nowhere if we keep wandering blind. We need information... which means we have to find a person. Alone. I'll scare them and ask them where Armadillomon is incarcerated. Okay?"

Jimena looked puzzled, and I was afraid she'd shut my idea down. But actually she just asked me, "Eeeehm... ¿En español?" So I repeated my idea in Spanish, and she agreed to it. That left the quandary, where to find an interrogatee? This building seemed woefully understaffed. Which could only mean...

"Jimena, there's a secret door somewhere. It'll probably go down, since up hasn't served our purposes. Let's head back to the ground floor and look for it." So, we did.

No door presented itself, but a person did. A man, a man in a hazmat suit. I couldn't imagine they'd keep some high-ranking agent level personnel in hazmat gear, which made me think this was just a grunt. Fine by me. "Go, now! For what are you waiting?" Jimena asked me.

"I don't want to be seen if we don't have to. Let's just follow him. Maybe he'll take us where we need to be."

"...vale." I couldn't blame her for being impatient. Were it Bradley or Veemon or Josh or someone I knew, I wouldn't be so level-headed either. But I knew she wasn't, so I had to be.

We followed the dude for all of twenty minutes. Well, more like two. We followed him to a break room of sorts, where he sat down to eat for the remaining 18. Level-headed as I was, even my patience had limits. "...I can't believe I'm about to do this," I remarked under my breath before taking one big breath and rounding the corner, gun raised. "Hands up high! If you shout, I shoot!"

I really hoped the hazmat guy was a good person, because I needed him to be easy to deceive. If he made a move or yelled, I was more likely to flee than shoot anybody. But there was no way for my captive to know that. If I was lucky, he'd sing like a canary.

"Jimena, muéstrale una imagen de Armadillomon." Jimena went into her Digimon database thing and came out with an Armadillomon portrait. Actually, it was a first for me, so I looked, too. He was well-named because he almost exactly resembled an armadillo, though I'd never seen a golden armadillo. Sure, I'd never seen any armadillo before, but still. "Tell me where that Digimon is, and I'll walk away with a full magazine. Better yet-" I clicked the safety off for emphasis. Or maybe I turned it on. I wasn't sure. "-show me."

The hazmat man was scared out of wits. My guess is nobody expected the scientists to get captured, only field agents, because he broke like a pane of glass before a wrecking ball. "Okay, don't shoot! They're in the digital detention block, all the Digimon, south wing, four floors down!" Yep, called it. Underground. Boy, how do I do it?

"That's great and all, but we can't find the entrance. Show us." I scowled for effect, but perhaps admitting the weakness of being lost made me seem less intimidating. I guess the gun was still scary enough, though, because the hazmat slowly stood and kept his hands over his head.

"Mind some company on your walk?" asked a voice that I was not pleased to hear. I wasn't even going to ask how Renamon got inside this facility - or why, since I was sure that would become apparent in due time - but after our last encounter I was not happy to see her.

"Renamon, I really don't have time for your mierda right now. I'm not gonna free Digimon from a government facility by sitting down and having a chat with an old frenemy."

"Oh, what's the matter, sweetie? You don't believe I sent the mean, nasty digimon after you, do I?" Renamon was clearly mocking me, and that only made me more inclined to believe just that. But she also gave a pretty compelling reason to trust her. "Let's catch up on old times elsewhere. I don't love the idea of you humans holding my kind hostage, and it sounds like you and I have the same goal: free the digimon."

"Free a digimon," I corrected Renamon, "Like I told Jimena, as soon as our ride arrives, we're busting out. We don't have time to be heroes. Hey!" Hazmat took a step, so I pointed my gun back at him. "You know what? Go ahead and sit your ass back down. We're not leaving yet."

Renamon scoffed, amused by my tough-guy efforts. "Enjoying your new toy, Dylan?"

"You wanna explain to me why I should trust you? You haven't exactly given yourself much credibility." I then leaned to Jimena and remarked, "No confíes en esta puta."

"Your mother would be ashamed to hear you use such language," Renamon bemused. "I see no reason why I shouldn't assist you. After all, your partner seems to be absent."

"Veemon isn't my partner, okay? No offense to him or anything, he's a good guy, but I'm just trying my best to save my own skin from whatever your kind is up to. I don't have a dog in this fight. But we're getting off topic here."

Renamon smirked. "Is that the kind of thinking that got up that tree? Your resolve to help your friends was so strong then, even despite my little test-"

"Renamon-"

"-but I forget, you had a personal stake in that. You wanted information and deluded yourself into thinking that was the way to get it. Shame you didn't complete the journey for your friends' sake. One of them could have certainly used the prize at the top."

"Will you quit rambling? Aren't you the one who said to move beyond the past?" My pride was stung, and no defense is why I wanted to change the subject. Shameful but true. But apparently she wasn't senselessly rambling.

"You wanted to know why you should trust me? I'm the only person in your life who has ever tried to make you do the right thing for the right thing's sake. You do have a 'dog in this fight,' and that is it. Now, allow me to help you do the right thing once more."

Was I completely sold on that? Hell, no. But I did have a more pragmatic reason to keep her around. She probably knew how to be quiet. "Fine, Renamon. You can come and if help isn't here by the time we find Armadillomon, we'll free as many as we can up to and including all of them if you help us find Armadillomon first."

Renamon seemed to consider that before she shook my hand (without me even extending it, I might add). I couldn't help feeling as if I had just made a deal with the devil.