The Interloper

by The Silent Insomniac

It is October 2013. Humans & digimon are at war. The Chosen Children have fallen, hiding as Man perverts their dreams & ideals. In the Digital World, Veemon meets a fugitive marred by tragedy & brings unprecedented change. Can this interloper restore their hope or will he instead destroy them all? [The longest OC & Canon post-02 deconstruction on FFN. Rated M for intensity & gore.]

21. Irony

Pre-chapter author's notes:

[1] Chapter 19 stands at 18,105 words. A bit longer than average, but still short enough for someone to read in one sitting (give or take an hour or two lol).

[2] Please note that Psychoanalysis has been split, as the first half simply became too long. It sucks, huh? I'm always splitting the chapters in two. At this rate, I might not even be done with the Priorities story arc by the time I hit chapter 30. D: Even worse when you consider we've got battle chapters coming up right after the next chapter and you all know by now my battle chapters are most often the longest by both word count and volume.

[3] Anyway, here's the 19th chapter, Irony. Enjoy! By the way, there are a few things I don't own in this chapter, and any of those even interested on seeing it can just scroll down to the post-chapter notes.

---

He had absolute freedom.

He had absolute power.

Now that Veemon rescinded their friendship, self-restraint on Christopher's part was no longer necessary. He could do whatever he wanted without a second's contemplation over the political ramifications of his choices.

Contrary to initial impressions, the notion of zero restraint did not negate the noninterventionist principles Christopher embodied in his dealings with those he meets in his journey across the multiverse. The unrestrained ability to do anything was necessary to exercise these tenets.

Especially now.

The Digital Suppression Initiative possessed æther technology, and anything they could possibly do with it was sure to cause massive ripples—repercussions on a global scale—the annihilation of the Digidestined would never compare to. Ruminating further, so long as humanity had the capability to harness this limitless power, not even the utter destruction of the DSI would prevent these changes.

Rectification must be sought and fought for at all costs.

"Listen up," boomed Christopher's voice. It echoed off the walls. His unwavering eyes fixed their stare on the Digidestined's leadership. "I'm after the DSI's R&D." He sauntered to the stone table and set his left hand on the Orange Box. "I will not hand you the Orange Box until you tell me where I can find it."

The core group's eyes did not leave the gun hanging in his hand. It was an ultimate weapon. The perfect firearm. It was literally oblivion, erasing anything it strikes from existence itself, if the small, cleanly-formed pothole between the stone table and the curtain could speak words.

Still, they resisted. The resistance aimed at reasoning with the blond. Silent litanies prayed in this room hoped Christopher Van Numen still had an ounce of humanity left in him, a pinch of compassion. Of mercy.

"Why are you doing this?" questioned Shuu. "Why did you cut ties with Veemon? You made him cry! I thought you were friends."

"Answer the question." He refused to let Shuu wrestle control away from him. The tone of his voice should have given away the consequences befalling the failure to do so.

The elder Kido clamored. All the fear he was suffering from reflected itself in his quivering legs and diffident voice. "Don't threaten us like this. You don't have to—

An orb of pale green light whizzed by Shuu's face, about a few centimeters from his cheek. "Stop wasting my time. I'm done with formalities. I'm done with meetings. Tell me where R&D is." He glared at the middle-aged adult. "Or else."

Masami Izumi was undeterred. He rose defiantly, mustering courage from Shuu's bravery. Or what was left of it, rather. "This is pointless," he asserted. "Veemon, Hikari, and Tailmon are infiltrating M&A tonight. They're going to destroy the DDS." Koushirou's stepfather did not back down from Christopher's resultant glower. "When they do, we won't need your Orange Box!"

It was a good point.

The Orange Box was designed to completely bypass the firewalls, detection and tracing programs, and other regulatory measures blanketing the Internet and the underlying Digital World. Since the Digital Dive System was the source of all those, any idiot could figure out its destruction would neuter the Orange Box's usefulness.

Well, Christopher was no idiot.

He knew about this hole in his logic. Good thing he already took steps against such ratiocinations.

He shook his head. "How about this?" he propounded, walking towards Masami. "You don't give me the info I want"—Chris stuck the barrel of his gun up Masami's jaw.—"and I'll blow your head off. Kill everyone else while I'm at it."

"G-go ahead," stammered the man. All eyes were on him. The social pressure was enough for Masami to struggle with keeping up this illusion of bravado against one so powerful. "Kill me. Kill us all. I won't let a terrorist like you win."

Damn people trying to play hero.

"You don't understand anything at all," Chris stated. His goldenrod eyes averted to the white staff for a split-second. "I can kill everything in this base. Every man, woman, and child. Every digimon."

The moment he said this, Mantarou, Ayumi, Kiriha, and Shuu started sweating profusely, afraid that death was on the brink of claiming the Digidestined. The funny thing was, its scythe wasn't coming from the enemy, but from someone completely unrelated to the war between men and monsters.

Fear paralyzed even Masami. Christopher knew it—his hearing and unnatural senses detected the change in his heartbeat without effort. Everyone in the room palpitated at his words, realizing Christopher held not only the key to changing this war, but also the lives of every person and monster underground.

Their eyes veered to Renamon, their lone protector. Slumped on the wall, she finally succumbed to unconsciousness minutes earlier. Not even a digimon could withstand over twenty powerful, precise strikes at a weak spot. Then they returned to Christopher.

The core group was silent, waiting. Waiting for Hikari, Tailmon, or even Veemon to return and liberate them. Waiting for anyone—anything—to come and save them from the villain terrorizing them. It didn't matter who!

"Nobody can save you," he darkly reminded. He had absolute power and absolute freedom. Nothing could stop Christopher Van Numen from carrying out his threat. Chris had a mission to accomplish, and he had sworn to see through it no matter the cost.

He didn't care if it made him a messiah loved by many. Or a devil abhorred by all.

I will alter my fate, he vowed. Stop this accursed journey.

He would commit mass murder and other acts of terrorism if it meant completing his mission. Dissuasion was impossible. In fact, the only consolation he had from this moment was the fact Veemon was no longer around to coax him out of this like the sad, embittered child that he was deep inside. At least Christopher didn't need to deal with the inner struggle that would undoubtedly arise from the thought of killing the blue dragon.

Power and freedom was in his hands. Christopher dished it out without fail. And yet…

And yet…

It all felt so… empty. Meaningless. Their disbursement did not quench the pain weighing his chest. Neither did they abate the guilt setting his heart aflame. Worse, Chris couldn't comprehend why. Why was he feeling such remorse? Why was grief taking over?

This was what he wanted, didn't he? To be free. To be unrestrained. He didn't need friends. Every acquaintance he befriended on his journey ended up becoming time bombs anyway, time bombs his antagonists wouldn't hesitate to detonate.

"Bringing tragedy wherever you go."

Subconsciously, Christopher knew it wasn't that he didn't need friends. He wanted it. He yearned for it. Now that he was completely alone, his loyal comrades were dead, and his beloved was dead, there was nothing left to lose but his life, yet that was the objective of his enemies.

Chris wasn't one to let his enemies win, especially when he still needed to find out why they sought his life so strongly.

"You are a curse."

Sally's voice echoed in his mind, her ghost haunting him. "Stop running!" The tone reflected an insistence to correct the predicament. Apologize to the core group. Reconcile with Veemon. Help him. It was the right thing to do.

No. Christopher steeled himself. It was what he wanted to do. What he wanted was a completely different thing from what he needed. All the crap unraveling before him at this very moment was necessary. Personal feelings must be set aside.

Then his eyes centered on the only senior in the group. Chikara Hida, grandfather to Iori, the Child of Humility and the Digimon Tactician's right-hand general. The old man's unflinching eyes glared at him. His heartbeat was stable, indicating a calm, collected disposition.

The straight expression he wore was the perfect poker face. Not even Chris could tell whether he was afraid like the rest of his colleagues in the core group. The fact someone was actually undaunted despite the threats made startled the blond.

But was Chikara really lacking fear? Or instead, did he doubt Christopher's ability to follow up on his threats?

The thought of someone being skeptical of his abilities infuriated him further. His goldenrod eyes soon shone bright blue, overtaking their natural hue. Activate. The glowing eyes stood out amidst the fluorescent lighting, seizing the core group's attention. Ayumi Ichijouji opened her mouth in a silent scream.

Expanded map. A three-dimensional image of the Digidestined's underground base appeared in the Realm Scanner's HUD, albeit still incomplete. It didn't matter though. Christopher intended on correcting this deficiency. Scan and map environment. The R-Scanner began its work, processing its order. However, he wasn't done yet. Run simultaneous program. Chris assured himself of maximum efficiency, having the bracer-shaped device count every person and monster in the tunnel network after he mentally set the parameters of the scan and its concurrent program.

While it worked, he kept his glowing eyes on the core group. The six people stood, aware of Chris's distracted attention yet afraid to court death itself. Chikara Hida, however, kept a watchful eye on him.

"Do you doubt me?" he sauntered closer. The core group backpedaled, ending in defensive stances. Only the old man remained stationary. Purposely immobile. Christopher hated Chikara's eyes. He wanted to rip them out, for they made him feel he was being judged. Being analyzed. The blond leaned close to the senior's wrinkly face. Azure blue eyes staring into russet brown. Neither blinked.

Was Chikara immune to terror? Or did this wizened old man possess the erudition to see through Christopher's veneer, discerning the emotional damage he tried to hide with this callous display of heartlessness?

Irked, Chris gave the edge of the stone table a light tap, not minding his own strength. The stone not only cracked, but a chip of it also fell. This not only highlighted the power he wielded unarmed, but also cautioned the other spectators of the fate awaiting them should they try disarming him or launching a concentrated ambush.

A small window appeared in his HUD. It had only been a couple of minutes, yet the Realm Scanner was already finished, to his surprise. Though he owned this machine for over a year, Christopher Van Numen had yet to fully explore and test the limits of this god-sent technology.

"There are exactly twelve thousand, five hundred, and thirty six people and digimon combined in this base," Chris murmured just loud enough for the core group to hear. "I can suffocate them all in less than fifteen minutes."

Then he felt the air molecules behind him move, making way for swift movement behind his back. He gyrated swiftly, moving so fast the person who dared to sneak up behind him backed away.

It was Mantarou.

His pupils were shivering like jello.

He was only trying to plop his hand on Chris's shoulder. To get his attention.

"Look, dude," chanted Mantarou. The man failed to conceal the dread coloring his words. "Shuu's right. Why did you cast Veemon out like that?" He challenged the blond terrorist, remembering—believing—he could reach Chris's buried humanity. "He didn't deserve any of it."

Veemon appeared in his mind. The phantom image of the blue dragon took its spot on the floor next to the stone table. He could envision him standing right in front of him, eye to eye with his waist. Veemon was staring up, beholding Christopher with crimson eyes mired in a melancholic quagmire, producing saltwater that gushed down his sad muzzle, glistening.

Insulting him further was the visage of the late Sally Xyphard ripping into his imagination. A ghostly apparition of his beloved, the priestess shook her head in disapproval, in utter, condescending disappointment.

"Shut up!" Chris banished the images from his view. Banished the thoughts clouding his head. He silenced Mantarou Inoue, confronting his assertions. "You don't know anything—

"Just what's there to know?" he disputed. "All I saw was you being a god-effin' prick." Mantarou glared at Chris, willing the courage to make eye contact with the blond's glowing orbs. "You want us to give you the info? Then get out there. Follow Veemon. Kiss and make up. You know what I mean."

"I won't retract what I said to that effing lizard."

"Don't be selfish, dude."

That word.

It was that damn word again!

"Don't, be, selfish."

Veemon questioned Tina. He choked when he verbalized his thoughts, yet struggled to follow through and accentuate the last two words. "W-why, are you humans so selfish?"

A feeling of misery ensnared him, holding him at bay, injecting grief. Injecting guilt. Chris was silent, trapped by his stupor. Already he was reliving the downcast feeling he got when the blue dragon spoke that word.

Selfish.

He hated it.

He despised it.

Abhorred it.

Him?

Selfish?

These people knew nothing about him! Yet they were JUDGING HIM. And on what? The sole basis of his actions?

What he did to Veemon, what he was doing to the core group… they did not reflect his fundamental stance. Hell no! Everything that was unfolding before them this very second was all politically correct. The separation between Christopher and who could've possibly been an awesome friend. The threats he was making on the organization. The intimidating ruthlessness present in his every action—pummeling Renamon until she passed out, firing at Masami who could have lost his legs, and scaring Shuu with a warning shot zooming centimeters near his gaunt cheeks.

They were all correct. He was right. Politically.

MORALLY.

What Christopher was doing was for the sake of the greater good. The greater good, of the greater number.

Yet this bastard was calling him what? A selfish, "god-effin' prick"? Christopher Van Numen? Selfish? SELFISH? F*ck you. He was not selfish! No, he was the complete opposite of selfish!

F*CK YOU!

Who the hell was Mantarou to judge him like that? Everyone in this room was technically older than he was, but in the end who was more mature? Christopher underwent hardships none of these people would ever see in their lifetimes. This little conflict with the Digital Suppression Initiative was nothing.

The war I fought in my teen years was far worse than your stupid war!

Melancholy morphed into fury in a speed seen only on people with short fuses. Mantarou Inoue struck a mark, and the blond wasn't letting him get away with this transgression! Christopher Van Numen trained his gun on Mantarou. He did not murmur a single word in response. Neither did Chris release a feral growl.

A yell of protest erupted from Shuu. "CHRIS, NO!" He reached for the gun.

"MANTA!" So did Masami Izumi, but on both counts Christopher was just too far.

They were both too late, too slow to keep up with Chris's superhuman agility. The trigger had been pulled the moment both Masami and Shuu took a single step towards him.

Strangely enough, Mantarou had been spared. If God had been with the Digidestined at that very moment, He certainly must have been present.

Kiriha Ichijouji made his move precious seconds before Christopher raised the ultimate firearm. Chris had probably been easy to read, too consumed in his own emotions to realize this early on. The Digimon Tactician's beloved father managed to swat the gun away before the celadon orb flew out the barrel.

Kiriha's act of heorism, however, came at a great sacrifice. Christopher seized Ichijouji's left wrist, reacting instantly with a ferocious toss towards the rock wall across the room.

How the impact did not turn Kiriha's body into scarlet paste astounded the blond. The impact instead cracked his ribs. The rapid retaliation had also demolished his left arm. Both the shoulder and elbow joints were dislocated; furthermore, Kiriha's left wrist was crushed to the point he'd never regain use of it again even if he recovered.

Somehow, Christopher's enormous strength was suppressed during this counterstrike. Was this muscle memory, gained from constant, playful sparring with that whining lizard in the past week? Was his own body subconsciously resisting his attempts to harm the relatives of those he cared about?

Ayumi and Masami ran to Kiriha and verified the injuries sustained in the brief melee. Whatever happened just now was serendipitous. Providential. Consider yourself lucky, he thought, watching agony consume Kiriha's wife. You're supposed to be dead.

Mantarou finally collapsed, falling on his butt. Shuu on the other hand was petrified, rooted to the spot. With Kiriha severely injured, Renamon fallen, and the threats Christopher had made on the lives of the Digidestined, from the leadership all the way down to the refugees being sheltered within the network of tunnels, thoughts of outright capitulation were already being entertained in their heads.

In fact, someone already executed these thoughts.

"Odaiba," replied a hoarse voice. "R&D's in Odaiba."

Masami roared, livid at the accession. "CHIKARA!"

Shuu and Mantarou both mumbled. "Mr. Hida…"

"What's that?" Christopher rotated. "I could've sworn you just said R&D's in Odaiba." Thirteen paces brought him to the old man. Chris towered above him, looking down at the shriveled body sitting on the rock chair.

"You heard me right."

Chris scowled. "Do you think I'm stupid?" he scoffed. "I spent last night in a motel there and I never saw anything like a military—"

"I admit," interrupted the grandfather, "that our info on R&D is limited, but the Digidestined has executed reconnaissance missions on it in the past."

"GODDAMMIT!" Masami cursed, censuring the wisdom of the old man . "Are you mad, Chikara? Don't give in to this terrorist's—

"Terrorist?" Chikara repeated. "No. We're dealing with a political problem here." He looked at Christopher for only a few seconds. "This boy here only wants to keep the status quo. He is on no one's side but his own."

"Status quo?" reiterated Masami, his tone mocking and doubtful. "Garbage!"

Chikara ignored him. "This æther technology you spoke of," directing his words to the blond. "How great will be its effect on the human race?"

Christopher knew where he was getting at. Inwardly, the blond was relieved. At last, someone who actually understood his position! "Believe me, if I leave this alone, your world will change. I guarantee your society's level of technology—military, infrastructure, scientific, lifestyle—will advance several millennia in less than a decade.

"From what I know, you aren't even ready for this." Chuckling, "You haven't even sorted out this issue with digimon!"

"That's exactly why I'm giving him the information, Masami," Chikara concluded, flicking his head in Chris' direction. "The boy's"—admittedly, Chris hated being called 'boy'. He was already a full-fledged adult! Ascription to it always evoked condescension—"involvement in our war is escalating it to unforeseen proportions, auguring unprecedented consequences. We can't allow any third-party intervention.

"I suppose this was also why you cut ties with Veemon?" he asked Chris.

Christopher bowed his head. "Yes," he retorted, speaking after five seconds of silence. The blond's eyes—goldenrod once again—rolled to Shuu's direction. Of everyone in the core group, he had expected the middle-aged man to understand his actions more than anyone else. He sought a glimmer of comprehension in those beady black eyes, only to be disappointed.

Obviously Chikara's erudite demeanor came only with age.

"I won't condone your dissolution." The wizened senior was scolding him, fueling Christopher's shame even more. But he didn't dare retaliate, not when he was on the verge of receiving information. "You could've ended your friendship with him in a better way. One more peaceful. Less painful. Veemon did not deserve any of that."

Christopher Van Numen grew tired of the chastising. "How I deal with my problems is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" His eyes narrowed. "Now get to the point, old man," he growled. "You know I got a mission to accomplish ASAP."

Chikara surveyed the War Room. So did Christopher. Nobody liked the way the conversation was going. The Digidestined, through Iori Hida's grandfather, was effectively acceding to the blond's stipulations, verbalized concurrently with threats of death and genocide. In the long run, resistance was crucial. Securing Chris's alliance would've been a far better scenario, as the balance would easily tip to the Digidestined's favor.

Nonetheless, Christopher's reasoning, once clarified by Chikara, promulgated the point. The blond's presence was too influential, its consequences too unpredictable and encompassing. He was too dangerous to even associate with. The Digidestined, no, the Real and Digital worlds both, were better off without him and his alien technology.

"Past recon missions on R&D were mostly unsuccessful," continued Chikara, beginning from where he left off. "Most M&A soldiers don't know its location, and unfortunately, they're more common than the DSI's administrative workers. The only solid intel we got on R&D was an underground train running between M&A's and R&D's lowest levels."

"Don't you have anything on its actual location?"

There had to be a door or secret entrance somewhere! Logistically speaking, DSI employees who lived within Odaiba and nearby wards would be vexed to commute to M&A, descend the Shinjuku building, and take another train all the way to R&D. It just wasn't logical. Not everyday.

"At best," answered Chikara, "We only unearthed rumors of it being in Odaiba."

"Just… rumors?" Christopher couldn't hide his disappointment. He came all this way, only to discover this? This wasn't what he came to Mt. Fuji for! "That's it?" He would never admit it, but Chris was now feeling the same disappointment Veemon underwent when he learned Daisuke was never in Mt. Fuji to begin with.

The option of going to M&A for R&D was rejected immediately. Not only would it be a waste of effort and time but also the resulting confrontation with Veemon, however awkward, could derail Christopher from his true goals. Distraction was something he couldn't afford. Not when he was operating on borrowed time. After all, Felicia Portal could show up at any moment. "Nothing solid?"

The old man shook his head. "On the Odaiba entrance, no. Only someone who worked for R&D would know where it was. Unfortunately, we never captured someone who had a history with R&D."

Christopher was no longer listening. Unlike the Digidestined, unlike the Chosen Children, he had a contact. He knew someone who worked for R&D. That woman he met at Konata's. Tina Fujieda. The ex-Modifier. Chances were high the retired soldier wouldn't relinquish the information so easily, but at this point, Chris would do anything to get it. Even if it meant breaking her.

As far as the Digidestined were concerned, he stood, turning his back on Chikara. He gazed towards the curtain. "I'm done here." Christopher walked to Shuu and, before the man could retract, seized his elbow and dragged him out. "But I'm borrowing Shuu until I find my way out. He knows the quickest way out of here, plus I might"—his eyes passed over the others: Ayumi, Masami, Mantarou, and even the downed Kiriha and Renamon—"need a hostage."

He smirked. "Just in case." You guys do something stupid again, Chris completed in retrospect.

---

The Chosen Child of Light did her best to follow Veemon, but the blue dragon ran too quickly. She lost him within seconds of exiting the war room after him. Hikari swore under her breath. The Digimon of Miracles must have wanted to flee the room so badly he absconded on all fours. It was the only explanation for his sudden burst of speed.

Finding herself lost, standing in a room of diverging paths, she turned to her loyal and faithful partner. "Tailmon, can you track his scent?"

With a smirk, "It's hard to miss the smell of earth and new leather." She watched the white cat lift her nose and sniff the air for a few seconds before bounding off towards the farthest tunnel. "This way!"

Veemon could definitely run. If it wasn't for Tailmon's sharp nose, they wouldn't have found him in the tunnel he decided to take refuge in. Her coquelicot eyes following the Digimon of Light's movements through the tunnels—whose fluorescent lighting and well-made signs failed to dampen their twisting, labyrinthine temperament—Hikari thought the blue dragon had been so hurt and affected by the sudden dissolution of his friendship with Christopher he did not bother to read the signs, but instead went for passages of, as she could clearly see from the decreasing transient population, devoid of anything that would require social interaction.

Tailmon decelerated. Hikari huffed, regaining strength from the exhaustion. She had been jogging for a good fifteen minutes. Tailmon could've gone faster if she wanted to. It wouldn't have mattered if she had escaped from the younger Yagami's sight. Her digivice was more than sufficient to guide Hikari along the feline digimon's path.

Of course, Tailmon was quite courteous to her partner.

Correction: to her friends.

When she slowed down, Hikari finally took in the surroundings. The tunnel led to a dead-end. Seeing the lack of people, not a toilet. Fallen pieces of gravel and rock, moist and dry alike, littered the sides of the cave, resting below obvious cracks and alcoves in the walls. If she had to guess, these were the marks of Veemon's punches and his trademark headbutts, executed out of frustration, performed to excrete the grief and fury his heart fueled, pound by pound.

"Veemon!"

Tailmon's shrill chirp brought Hikari to reality. They had found him, squatting in a rather tight, barely-noticeable nook of the dead-end passage. The young adult witnessed her digimon partner sprint to the blue dragon's side, locking him into a sweet embrace within her arms. So tight it was virtually intimate.

She understood this was necessary the moment Hikari assessed the Chosen's disposition, scrutinizing his entire body. Top to bottom. Head to toe.

Veemon's red eyes should have been bright, made lustrous by the intensity of his cheer and exuberance. His behavior was supposed to be lively, echoing his childish and playful disposition.

Instead, the state of Daisuke's partner was pitiful. Absolutely pitiful. Daisuke Motomiya himself would be all over his surrogate brother, pampering his faithful partner with care and emotional concern. He also would have taken the initiative to fight and floor the heartless cretin who induced this appalling state.

Those bright, cheery eyes were mired in melancholy and grief. Dried tears lined Veemon's muzzle, the part where the jaw began its outward protrusion. The knuckles of his fists and the center of his forehead (conveniently recognized by the eponymous V-shaped mark) were bleeding lightly, indicating the sheer ferocity and frequency required to completely drain his troubled sentiments.

The rest of his body was limp. Unresponsive. So severe were the separation's effects on him, the Digimon of Miracles did not make any sign or grunt of acknowledgment when Tailmon hugged him.

"—mon, it's okay," Tailmon was saying.

"No it's not," he whimpered, still perturbed by the division. "It's not."

"Listen to me!" She shook the blue dragon. Hard. "That man is a jerk. A tight asshole who's only in it for himself." Tailmon flicked her hand, gesturing to Veemon's pathetic exhibition of himself. "Look at you! A real friend won't do this to you!"

Tailmon hugged him again. "I'll always be here for you, Veemon."

Silence.

"I promise."

Life returned to Veemon's eyes. Those crimson pools of his flickered upon Tailmon's verbalization of the two words.

I promise.

It was a statement all the liars, cheaters, swindlers, and other lowly dicks in the world dished out like fliers and marketing advertisements. Circling among them was the axiom that promises were made to be broken.

Nonetheless, there were those who were so naïve, so innocent, or so idealistic these two words were held as high as God Himself, its very implications elevated on a pedestal sitting high above the clouds.

To them the I promise was a commitment. A personal guarantee. Nobody made promises that were likely to be broken. That was asinine. No. For adherents of idealism, promises were made when they exuded the conviction to carry it out no matter what happens and at all costs.

Being unable to keep a promise was a great dishonor, an act—a scenario—that annihilated all bridges constructed over time by trust. Granted, there was a fine line between a fragile promise and an unbreakable covenant (delineated by the profession called lawyers), but for idealists, fundamental moralists, and for naïve, innocent creatures like Veemon, a promise was technically no different from an oath. Or a covenant, for that matter.

What came out of Veemon's mouth did not surprise Hikari. "Can you really promise that?"

She could relate. The lady Yagami, in her preadolescent and teenage years, was once upon a time as idealistic and innocent as Veemon. The blue dragon's skeptical inquiry summoned memories. Memories of her older brother. Taichi and the many promises he made to her.

Promises that had all been broken.

To protect the Digital World from human exploitation.

To maintain the cordiality and munificence of the relationship between men and monsters. (And for that sake, hunt down the perpetrators of the Fourth of July massacre.)

To support Hikari's lifestyle and ambitions to become a renowned teacher.

To keep the Yagami family and their digimon together under one roof, safe from any attempts at assassination.

To restore communications between the Digidestined and the Digital Monsters.

To find Takeru Takaishi's corpse (and give it a proper cremation).

To determine Daisuke Motomiya's fate.

To remain by her side and never leave it.

Indeed, Taichi Yagami shattered each one. Yes, some of it was not his fault, but many times, it was made with an ulterior motive. Every promise was made to conceal from her the nightmarish currents flowing underneath the still surface of politics. He did not want Hikari worrying about him, or about anything else.

All he wanted was for his younger sister to live a carefree life. A normal life. Where she would grow up to be a mature, independent woman.

Taichi was a person who did not see promises the way she did. Hikari did not need to know Veemon in and out like the back of her hand to believe he looked at promises the way she did. It was so obvious from his hopeful eyes alone.

"Can you, really, promise that?" Veemon asked again. He sniveled. "I, I-I, I've been, b-betrayed three times already, Tailmon." Raising a hand, "F-first, by Daisuke. Then, by, b-by, Ken, and now, n-n-now, b-b-b-by, by, C, C… Chris." He used his fingers to count. Hikari easily discerned its shaking.

"Yes, Veemon," coolly comforted Tailmon. "I can."

A scary thought intruded her thoughts as the Child of Light watched her digimon partner reaffirm her words. The I promise was exercised to abate the blue dragon's weeping. Hikari was fully aware Tailmon couldn't be expected to keep it.

A promise to Veemon was and never will be first priority.

It struck her: the white cat was acting just like her idiotic brother. Who knew she and Veemon shared this philosophy on promises?

Hikari's experience on the path of disappointment she had trodden for the past ten years prompted her to saunter to his side. She knelt. Cupping his muzzle in her clothed palms, "Veemon," she said warmly, "the least we can promise is our help in finding Daisuke." This way, he would be spared from further disappointment.

The blue dragon replied with a nod. No verbal reciprocation. Hikari struggled to keep tears of pity from surging out her shimmering, coquelicot pools, seeing the uncharacteristic sadness etched so ostensibly on his snout. Thank God he stopped crying.

Moss-colored arm warmers impregnating her arms wrapped themselves around Veemon and hugged him for a good three seconds, adding a pat on the back for more comfort. It was the least she could do. It was the least anyone in their right mind and heart could do.

Tailmon lingered close to the blue dragon, probably wondering what else could be done for her sorrowful friend.

"Please," he requested, "leave me alone. Let's just, l-let's just get out of here." Veemon gazed at both her and Hikari pleadingly. "Please. I'll just follow you…"

The Digimon of Miracles had just started on the road to recovery. Hikari's instinctive propensity for empathy insisted she assent to his requests. They had to leave as soon as possible. Thus, the group had little time to prepare for the infiltration mission ahead.

Hikari couldn't help but smile. Even in this sorry state, the blue dragon was living up to his mythical reputation. The tunnel he chose to isolate himself in led directly to an armory, and one for combatants.

Good thing she was keen and observant.

Good thing the Digimon of Light paced herself.

---

"I still don't understand it."

Shuu Kido was leading Christopher to the nearest exit, both hands tucked in his olive blazer's pockets. All three of its buttons were closed, providing some security against the man he escorted to the surface.

A false sense of security. Chris's threats, however pompous and ridiculous they sounded given his human form, weren't something to be taken lightly. He already proved his fearsome disposition for battle and mass destruction.

The tunnel their feet were taking them through ascended with a manageable incline. What used to be slippery rocks strewn across the cavern floor was pavement. A thin layer of cement spread across gravel, as far as Chris could observe. Even the width and height of the passage was growing in size.

Chris noticed Shuu had remained silent the entire time, brooding over what had happened in the war room. The blond had effectively silenced the Digidestined with a hostage, not to mention the fact he could demolish the entire base in a heartbeat at his heart's desire. Not wishing to socialize any further, Chris simply opted to watch where they were going, his goldenrod eyes shimmering in its eerie blue hue. A clear indication of the Realm Scanner's activation.

The indestructible bracer on his left forearm had been mapping out the passages they were taking in more intricate detail. Though æther particles were present in every molecule in every location on levels far below subatomic, ensuring everything followed the order of the multiverse as designed by God, the fact remained three-dimensional imaging techniques utilizing these had their own flaws.

Æther mapping, as Chris dubbed it (for he was not that inclined to science, especially with concepts far beyond the comprehension available to his era of origin—he had been born on the onset of the 21st century, after all), required the collection of data sourced from the diverse, constantly-changing properties of æther particles in the environment. Conceptually it was similar to sonar and ultrasound, but more penetrating and vulnerable to the effects of many more variables, which meant increased effort for the onboard supercomputers embedded in and protected by this fascinating piece of machinery to discriminate, sieving out the desired information.

Cutting to the chase, the end result of Christopher's mapping of the entire tunnel network was, suffice to say, grainy and convoluted, even though it provided a rather accurate—an inference derived from the look on Chikara Hida's face—census of 12,356 living creatures underground. He knew he could've had the R-Scanner produce something with a cleaner resolution, but why bother? It did the trick, guiding him to the right place.

Nobody in the DSI knew Mt. Fuji sheltered thousands of rebels and recalcitrant refugees. It may have been something worth keeping a secret for those Fujieda sisters, but for Christopher it was an opportunity. If something, somehow, got in his way and he entered tomorrow with his pockets empty, then perhaps he could exchange the information and the map, though crude, for the Realmstone Fragment.

Rotating the 3D map displayed on the HUD blanketing his entire retina, Christopher noted something peculiar. The caverns they were approaching were humongous, about several storeys high. Hills dotted the landscape east of Mt. Fuji, and they were hollow. Artificial or natural formations would be a topic of great, speculative dispute.

Christopher would've started looking past the Scanner's blue sheen if it wasn't for Shuu breaking his concentration. He forgot he wasn't alone.

"I don't understand," the middle-aged man grumbled. He took off his glasses and wiped them with a clean handkerchief. Placing them back on, "Not at all."

The blond regarded him with a blank stare, moving forward as Shuu did. The elder Kido hypothesized his silence as attention.

A correct assumption.

"I told you to take care of Veemon, didn't I?" He stopped in his tracks, eyes trained on the widening path ahead. Flora was beginning to creep down the cavern walls and the pavement was disappearing. Even the tunnel was more natural than manmade, credit going to the multiple stalagmites and stalactites scattered across the cave. An obvious camouflage technique against government surveyors.

"And you said you will!"

Shuu gyrated to face him. His body was trembling. Clearly Shuu was afraid to confront the powerful, godlike figure that was Christopher Van Numen. Yet he mustered the courage to speak! Amazing how human curiosity and inquisitivity could move ordinary men beyond their comfort zones. "So why did you do that?"

A cold glare was Chris's reply. Nothing more.

"I don't know what Mr. Hida's thinking." Shuu refused to be intimidated. "Giving you the information so effing readily," he grunted. "So asinine! I'd much rather die than set you loose outside, chasing your stupid mission."

Chris scowled at the gross insult of his aspirations. At least Shuu knew he shouldn't ask about them. Still, the man shook his head. "You and Veemon looked like good friends. I can't believe it was all a lie—

This had to stop. "And I thought you'd empathize with me. Like that old man in your little group."

"E-e, e-empathize with you?" Shuu reiterated, thunderstruck."You said you used him! Like a tool! No, he was a tool to you. Veemon meant absolutely nothing to you!"

"It was necessary."

Shuu was taken aback. Before he could respond, the blond pressed on. "I know Veemon would've been a great friend. But he has his own place here. I don't.

Christopher took a step forward. Their faces were so close, Chris's goldenrod eyes looked like they were melding with Shuu's black ones at a glance. "You gave up your girlfriend to protect her and further your cause. I gave up what could've been a very strong friendship to accomplish my goals."

He began his rebuttal. "But the way you dismantled it…"

"Exactly as I intended," the blond cut him off. "The more he hates me, the better. I'd rather live with it than…"

A memory flashed in his mind, overtaking his thoughts and his words. "Than…"

The last time Christopher had been with his closest friends was set in the depths of space, within a carrier-class starship whose dimensions spanned for miles, traveling with a fleet of spacecraft towards a military installation orbiting the planet Klaus III, located several million light-years away from Earth's solar system.

Christopher, Ivan, and Sally, representing their party of five, were being awarded by the fleet's commanders for their participation in an immense battle that secured the second Realmstone Fragment and a major milestone for the fleet's controlling organization when the entire group of starships was attacked.

One second they were in complete, utter safety. Christopher was being awarded with a medal of honor and courage, with his entire party being given "honorary membership in Quark". Sally was socializing with the many friends they had made during the battles. Ivan was flirting with a young human female, without much success.

Then it happened. Kinetic barriers were bombarded by black, organic-looking objects. Waves of green energy, wielded effortlessly by a human-like figure in the vacuum of space demolished starships, bypassing their shields. Then they finally broke through the hulls.

Ebony-hued reptiles were born from wisps of darkness, materializing onboard and invading the corridors, ripping apart anyone they came across. Futuristic weapons, railguns and energy-based firearms, were useless against them. Abilities invoking the power of nature through symbols and mental strength were just as futile.

Worse, relentless suits of near-indestructible armor, brandishing 10-foot blades with ferocity and speed, sliced their way to the bridge of each starship, crushing the armory, and overwhelming other critical areas, no doubt commanded by an intelligent tactician.

"NO!"

Christopher Van Numen stood before Felicia Portal, who hovered high in the hangar of small and medium sized ships. Her hands on her hips, bombastic features outlined by her tight, beryl blouse and miniskirt, the despicable Realmdrifter had just kicked—literally—Chris's spaceplane into the swirling vortex of light and energy beside her. Into the Space Between Worlds.

A look of horror was etched on Chris's face. The Green Aurora had been disposed without difficulty, with Joshua, Millena, and Peppita—a resident of this universe—housed within. The environment of the Space Between Worlds, without the safe passage granted by the black tunnel, was harsh and destructive. Even if the spaceplane survived the destructive energy binding each realm together, the vastness of the multiverse ensured their permanent separation, even with the detection abilities possessed by the Realm Scanner.

They would never meet again.

It was tantamount to death. "Shit… no…"

Floating in the air, positioned as if sitting down on a chair with legs crossed, Felicia displayed her sneer, tipping up the tip of her wide-brimmed hat.

Sally, sympathetic to Chris's sentiments, stilled herself and remained steadfast, facing off with the Ereba and Gatespawn in the massive hangar, littered with dead bodies, scrap metal, and fire blanketing them. Her mace, the Quadrille, quivered in her hands, her azure eyes gazing from Chris to her monstrous adversaries and back.

Felicia vanished, leaving behind her telltale ripple in the air. She reappeared directly beside Christopher, brandishing a long sword of crystallized C-grade æther in hand, exploiting his vulnerability. Before it could land a hit, movement from Chris's right was detected, and Felicia disappeared into oblivion before a sword wrapped in blue-white light descended where her shoulder was.

"Haa, haa," breathed Chris's blue-haired savior. "Damn, she makes the Executioners look like child's play." He regarded Christopher, seized his shoulder, and shook him. "Chris, snap out of it!"

"F-Fayt," mumbled the blond. "J-Joshua and Millena," he struggled to speak. "And Peppita. They're… they're all…"

Fayt Leingod slammed the hilt of his sword on Chris's face. "I said snap out of it!" An ereba attempted to exploit Fayt's opening, when the human avoided its shadow strike and slammed his fist on its head, igniting an explosion of light-blue energy that destroyed the Gatespawn. "Get out of here while you still can."

Fayt turned towards a couple of approaching Hadraal, matching their katzbalgers with his longsword. Felicia Portal levitated, watching their verbal exchange condescendingly. Just seeing her do this would irk anyone. Angel wings comprised of energy itself formed on his back. "Don't worry about me. I'll make her pay for Sophia's—"

"I'll back him up, bro." Ivan Beleegar cut in, standing beside Fayt. He tightened the long, red scarf on his neck. It went well with the jet-black vest covering his torso. "Open the portal and escape with Sally. We'll follow."

Chris knew any direct encounter with the Realmdrifter, with any of his enemies, would lead to death without his participation. Still, there were too many Gatespawn. Plus, the shells of his former comrades were going to follow suit. "You better," he urged, hoping—praying to God they would make it. A blue sheen covered his eyes as the Realm Scanner went live. Activate.

Phasing into Felicia's hand was the head of Ivan Beleegar. "He's right here." Christopher recognized the rugged face, the many scars it borne, and the trademark chinstrap beard Ivan always considered an important asset on hooking up with women.

"Hell yeah I am!" Ivan rejoined, taking out a small handgun identical to Christopher's and a one-handed sword whose blade was encased by a grey blob of absolute-zero superatoms. He gazed at Chris and grinned. "I still need to turn you into a real bro."

A "real bro" by Ivan's standards was someone who spent a night with him having sex with at least two women, sharing the girls and comparing their carnalexperience. For him, nothing bonded men more than a night of pleasure and competition. "No offense, Sally," he added, knowing the priestess's disapproval of this unfaithful act.

Æther accrued around Felicia's hand, completely disintegrating the sole memento they had of Ivan. "Oops, so much for burying the body." Christopher Van Numen had never forgotten the contorted sketch of utter terror and agony present on the space pirate's countenance, seeing it in his dreams every night.

Snap!

Christopher blinked, returning to the present. "H-huh?"

Shuu had snapped his fingers. Chris obviously spaced out. His desire for understanding was so strong the adult did not bother to escape from his captor."Than what?" Shuu's voice trailed, awaiting his swift reply.

"Eh?"

"You'd rather live with Veemon hating you than…?"

"Than what would've happened eventually," muttered the blond, completing the sentence.

"What WOULD have happened eventually?"

This question took it a step too far. "Let's go." Christopher brushed past him, snubbing Shuu.

Shuu clamored. "W-wait a min—

"Ask again and I will kill you," the blond snarled. He took Shuu by the sleeve and pulled him forward. "Now lead."

.

.

The cavernous atrium hollowing the hill out led to a narrower tunnel of approximately thirty feet, concealed by shrubs, bushes, and trees. The lack of cobwebs and what looked like a rabbits' pathway indicated this was one of the more common entrances for the Digidestined.

Christopher inhaled, taking in the fresh air with much relish. Shuu had apparently done the same, taking his sweet time. For one second, the blond pitied the black-haired male. Since when did Shuu take a walk outside the base?

He shook his head. Not that I care. A bright light illuminating the lower left corner of his eye seized Chris's and Shuu's attention. It was momentary, but the radiance lasted long enough for Chris to pinpoint its location at a nearby hill about a kilometer away. A shorter one, too.

Taking flight into the air was a winged, feline animal the size of a large horse. Thanks to the clouds blocking the full moon, it was a bit hard to make out its characteristics in extensive detail, even with his 20/20 vision. Even the two passengers it ferried were hard to distinguish fully, though he could tell the figure sitting on its back was a human lady, working from hints supplied by the flowing hair caressed by the wind.

The other figure was more difficult to discern, but from the onset he knew it was Veemon. Not only did it resemble him, but also there was no other creature among the many he had met during his travels who had skin of the brightest blue.

Still, Chris was so sure the winged creature's white rear resembled that of Hikari's partner—Tailmon was it? It definitely had the striped tail. The black claws, impregnated by clothing of pear green and crimson stripes, came from Tailmon as well. The funniest thing was, the front body looked nothing like the Digimon of Light.

She was a sphinx. A sphinx. How strange, thought Chris, already looking at Tailmon's "form" as weird and anomalous. Tailmon had become another animal coated not by rock, but by metal. Ornate metal, to be more precise. The bracers and pauldrons provided some protection, but the gold and jewels added some flair to the equipment. Even Tailmon's breastplate was emblazoned with an image resembling the sun. A triband suppressor—presumably fake—was worn on the sleeve of her armor.

So that's evolution… wow.

"That's Nefertimon," apprised Shuu. "It's Tailmon, evolving with the Armor of Light." The only useful trivia he got from it was the new name.

"Uh huh." It didn't make sense to Chris. Besides, he was looking at Veemon. Though they were too far for him to see the dragon's muzzle clearly, judging by the downward angle he carried himself and his seat on the rear end of the cat-turned-sphinx, the Digimon of Miracles was still seriously depressed over the separation.

For some reason, the blond could feel Veemon's hand giving him a warm, friendly pat on the back. He heard him snort in amusement. "I wonder," he was saying, "if we were rushing, you could've just let me ride on you and run all the way up there from the very beginning. I bet we'd be there in fifteen minutes," he estimated, grinning. "Even less."

"What," Chris remembered his own words, "you think I can do that?"

"I know you well enough." He imagined the dragon nodding, standing right by his side, looking up. "But I didn't say anything," he chuckled and smirked. "Thought you enjoyed my company."

The blond's head was bowed. Never thought I'd miss it.

"You can still reconsider, you know," Shuu hinted. To think his words were tickling Chris's conscience.

"Maybe it's already too late," his guilt attacked, hitting him where it hurt. "Reconsider your decision."

"It's none of your—

"Don't give me that crap," countered the adult, speaking already with the wisdom of age. "I can tell from—

Sally's ghost reverberated in his ears, drowning out the sound of Shuu's matured voice. "You're just scared."

"—ling guilty about this—

"BUT I'M YOUR FRIEND!" Christopher recalled the dragon's astonishment. He clenched his fists, like he tried to grasp the phantom warmth of the Chosen's hand. To feel it once more. To recognize the presence of a loyal comrade and ally.

"—ave no idea what you went through or what your mission is—

"We're friends. And friends, help each other."

"—ll-grown adult, yet you aren't mature enough—

"YOU'RE NOT MY FRIEND!"

Chris's fists tightened significantly.

"—can't handle it, you're better off following them and—

"SHUT UP!" Christopher snapped, palpitating. "SHUT UP! SHUT, THE HELL, UP!"

With Shuu Kido stunned, Chris took this chance to leap onto the nearest tree, balancing on a thick branch. "What's done is done," he stated with cold finality. "I… I have no regrets."

Goldenrod eyes were fixed on black. "I HAVE NO REGRETS!" he rang angrily, summoning his confidence and buoyancy in full desperation.

Shuu had only one last thing to say. "Remember, you're no longer welcome here."

"I know." Azure light shot from his left hand, coalescing into a cerulean trench coat that dangled in his hands. He wore it, rolling up the left sleeve, and turned around. Chris descended the mountain, leaping from tree to tree towards the highway in sight. "And I don't care."

---

"How you holding up, Nefertimon?" Hikari ran her hand across the sphinx's bare neck, caressing it lovingly. "It's been ten years since we used this form."

Her angel wings flapped in the air, maintaining their lift as their altitude soared. "Like riding a bicycle." Hikari chuckled. She knows human euphemisms well.

"Is there a difference though?" She glanced at the striped tail, where the Holy Ring—enlarged to remain proportionate to the Digimon of Light's size—was secured.

"Stronger," admitted the Armor-level. "I feel like I can go faster."

"Think you can match Perfect digimon in that form?"

Spoken with full confidence, "Yes." The junior Yagami expected the affirmation, and was happy to hear it. Tailmon's Holy Ring was the key to the tiny Adult's immense power, a fact she learned in her first trip to the Digital World on her fifth grade. Many times, during the Twelve's battles against the Digimon Kaiser and the villainous figures pulling his strings, Hikari imagined how different everything would've been her digital half did not lose the ring in the first place.

Would her armor evolution be as strong as it was now? Would she have been the one to claim the Digimental of Miracles when they fought Kimeramon in the Kaiser's base? Would the six of them—Daisuke, Ken, Takeru, Iori, Miyako, and herself—have been able to access DNA Evolution?

Tailmon never evolved again since the Digital Revelation on December 2002, since their battle with BelialVamdemon. Even during all the issues concerning the racism and discrimination of digimon were breaking out. Tailmon had always proven the need for evolution unnecessary, being an Adult level by default.

Looking back on those events, reflecting on what her digimon partner had gone through, Hikari Yagami had reluctantly admitted to herself, if it wasn't for Vamdemon's constant abuse of the white cat, she wouldn't have been able to protect Hikari from danger in the political chaos exploding after the Fourth of July massacre in the United States.

Imagine that. The moment Hikari realized this in her own bed, a few weeks before her 18th birthday—before Takeru's deathday—she had taken the initiative to pray for Vamdemon's soul, wherever it went to after his deletion by Imperialdramon's cannon. Tailmon would never forgive the megalomaniacal bastard for all the torment, abhorrence, and abuse she underwent under his rule, but Hikari, being the innocent, naïve girl she was from childhood to present, did.

Maturity could do that to people, she supposed.

Though she was excited to use Tailmon's full powers against the Digital Suppression Initiative, when Hikari's coquelicot eyes glanced at Nefertimon's Holy Ring, they did not ignore the dismal figure sitting on Nefertimon's rear-end, legs and feet dangling in the air.

Veemon was quiet ever since they took a tunnel leading to the large, hollow training areas underneath many of the hills on Mt. Fuji's eastern side, which inevitably brought them to narrow exits concealed by undergrowth and wilderness. The experience of being around a noiseless Veemon unsettled her.

Hikari had known him and his partner Daisuke long enough to know how similar they were, despite their own divergences. Daisuke and Veemon were practically brothers. Both were rambunctious. Both were mischievous and playful (considering the innumerable amount of times Veemon licked Daisuke's face just to tease and induce laughter at his expense). Both definitely enjoyed talking about the most random things. They even wrestled each other over food, over games, and over trivial things, aside from the heartwarming reason that was "just because".

Yet now, here was Veemon, seemingly back from the dead. Whatever buoyancy and playfulness he displayed prior to the separation were dampened—extinguished—by the clouds of melancholy fogging his cheerful eyes. He would normally hum in the face of silence, or do some form of affection only he was apt to do, but…

At this very moment, only a sad sigh escaped his snout, the blankness of his stare ostensible. His eyes and ears took in everything they saw and heard, and simultaneously discarded their capture. It was a disconnection from the world.

A disconnection Hikari herself had exhibited when news of Taichi's death (or so the DSI alleged in public channels) reached her sorry ears. Like him, she did not listen to everyone around her, did not pay attention to anything around her, wallowing in her own pit of despair.

Reality could be so cruel, exchanging Hikari's happiness and newfound hope for the blue dragon's grief and loneliness.

The pathetic sight moved the Child of Light to carefully—she didn't want to fall! The ground was about sixty, seventy, feet down and the vertigo she'd get from the drop and the immediate rescue would terrify her—inched towards the forlorn Digimon of Miracles and embrace him.

He did not respond. No verbal grunts. No physical clues. Nothing.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE! A distant sound of engine brakes smashing into asphalt and a booming crash of a car seized their attention. They turned their heads, both Hikari and Veemon, to the highway a couple of kilometers on Nefertimon's right.

An accident had occurred, but fortunately, no one died from it. As they already passed the cloud cover blocking the moonlight, they could see what caused the mishap: a human-like figure running at a constant speed of no less than a hundred and twenty miles per hour. From this distance, its blond hair—blown by nature's resistance to this unnatural velocity—was unmistakable, as was the blue coat it wore. Christopher.

Not only did he catch up to them so easily, but he was also traveling faster. Way faster. He already passed the distance Nefertimon gained from her headstart and was cruising along the highway towards the shining lights of the Tokyo Metropolis in the distance.

Seeing the blond demon run to the city on his own filled Hikari with joy. It was repetitive of her to think about it so often, but that Veemon was no longer at risk from the third scene in her dream brought peace to her troubled mind. The Chosen's safety equated to Daisuke's safety. Hikari sought nothing more but a reunion with her best friend, who struggled to keep her afloat when the Child of Hope's demise was still fresh in her memories.

It was harsh, even heartless, to treat Veemon's own situation in that perspective, as doing so had put the Chosen Child and Digimon of Light on the same level as the despicable Christopher, using the blue dragon and his own feelings to further their own agenda. In the end, it was what mattered the most.

"What was it?" queried Nefertimon, whose eyes were glued to the front. It was almost funny how the white sphinx could see through the steel eyelids of her mask.

Hikari did not answer just yet, too busy on observing the Digimon of Miracles, who also saw his former friend. She squeezed Nefertimon's soft, warm body. A subtle gesture for her to wait. She held back for seven seconds, before proceeding to ask Veemon, "Are you alright?"

The dragon's red eyes rolled in her direction and held their gaze for a fleeting glance before returning to the highway beside them.

She drove forward. "You still thinking about—

"It's hard not to." Veemon's tone was filled with noticeable anguish. "Christopher's the first human friend I've had in three years. Since…"

His muzzle bowed lower. "Since… Daisuke, left me…"

Hikari's digital half couldn't help but interject and say her piece. "Weren't the others with you?"

"Others?" he reiterated, a bit puzzled.

"Ken," the Child of Light supplied. "Iori. Koushirou. Joe. They all moved to the Digital World a year after…" Either one of two things were intended to slide out her lips. Takeru's death. Or Daisuke's desertion—she wasn't even sure if that was the right way to put it.

Instead, she settled with the perfect conclusion, one that went well with the nature of their conversation. "…you know."

He shrugged, shaking his head and sighing. "They were too busy. Never got time for me…"

Hikari interpreted his trailing voice as possessing a reluctance to carry on. There was something else bothering him, something about the four Chosen Children who, thanks to the DSI, were forced to abscond to the Digital World and take refuge there, even if it meant losing their own connection to the Real World, to their families, allies, and friends.

She knew it wasn't her business to pry. Curiosity was powerful, but her own willpower was stronger. If it wasn't, Hikari's emotions would've broken her after Daisuke vanished on the onset of the war. Veemon would reveal this in his own time. The best thing they could do for him now was to let him have some more time alone.

The Armor-level digimon ferrying them across forests, rural towns, and wilderness on air, however, called him out, succumbing to the temptations of inquisitivity. "There's something else, isn't there, Veemon?"

A wall of glacial stillness responded to her prodding. The dragon fidgeted nervously in his seat, hesitant to clench Nefertimon's skin and hurt her while being scrutinized by her human half's gaze.

"Isn't there?" she asked again.

"Nefertimon," Hikari scolded. "Don't pressure him. He'll talk when he's ready."

"Thanks," murmured the blue dragon, probably relieved from being spared the duty of answering the sphinx's inquiry.

She retorted, "No problem," squeezing his warm, leathery body one more time before returning to Nefertimon's front, to her faithful and loyal partner.

---

A couple of steel slates split apart, permitting the Modifier Aldo Kikuchi to disembark from the carriage it housed within. The black-skinned American-Japanese hybrid rubbed the crust off his baggy eyes, lips puckered and quivering as a yawn was suppressed.

He did not pay attention to the otherworldly nature of the car he rode in. Its whitewashed frame. The grass-green floor. The steel poles dotting the car every few paces. He did not care at all that this carriage—the entire train itself—was made entirely out of digital particles, converted by an onboard Zone Emulator, modified by technology that undoubtedly improved the train's resilience and speed.

The only thing Aldo gave a damn about was his wristwatch. The numbers displayed on its screen were an hour before midnight. The sight of it made him grumble, reminding him of the growls his stomach made and the pains assailing it.

The scout's belly throbbed. "Ooooooohh.," he mumbled, clutching his belly. Aldo rubbed the dark-blue clothing separating the skin from his palm. He had been battling hunger since that morning, with nothing but small meals that could barely count as such!

Akihiro Kurata's method of "debriefing" was cruel and highly inconsiderate. "Effing nerds," he grumbled. That man never gave him a decent meal for stealing the day away! His belly would be satisfied and happy by now, filled with the glorious food of the Japanese straight from the best diners close to the M&A Wing. In fact, he would be somewhere in Tokyo drinking, or hanging out at a strip club, raining those lascivious dancing women with wads of ¥1000 bills.

But no.

Instead, Aldo was meters below the surface, shuffling across the platform, heading for the wide corridor ahead. It would bring him straight to the Ninth Gate and consequently, to an intersection of hallways, one of which would definitely lead to the barracks reserved for Modifiers and veterans.

"Tut, tut," chided a derisive voice.

Speak of the freakin' devil.

Kikuchi rotated towards the speaker, finding Akihiro Kurata himself. He knew it was the head scientist the moment he heard those two arrogant syllables. How could anyone make the mistake? Kurata spoke with a high pitch and always—always!—employed the company of an irritating tone.

Akihiro's black eyes beheld Aldo condescendingly, maintained by the false sense of security the circular lens of the scientist's spectacles provided. The smirk on Kurata's face and the constant waving of his index finger were downright annoying. If it wasn't for the exhaustion laying claim to his countenance and body, Aldo would've slammed his boot into his testicles.

"The debriefing was necessary for my team's data processing," he verbalized, appealing to the Modifier's reason.

"Debriefing?" scoffed Aldo. "HA!" The urge to punch Kurata in the nose became harder to resist. "Some debriefing! More like an interrogation." He accentuated, "Lab arrest!"

R&D personnel normally possessed a sense for professional dignity and consideration for others. It was the tight-knit bond they possessed as a group and the respect they held for everyone they worked with in the organization that supplied this, whether they actually had collaborated together at some point or not.

Mitsuo Yamaki, for instance, may be the second-in-command, but the very fact the Chairman never showed his face in annual shareholder meetings, press releases, or internal meetings with administrative employees, researchers, and military soldiers alike made it very, very easy for one to mistake him for the president, commander-in-chief, and esteemed leader of the Digital Suppression Initiative.

The Chairman always spoke and operated through Mitsuo Yamaki, and the man exhibited a loyalty and passion like no other. Flanked by the Twin Towers—two carefully selected bodyguards who were among the most talented soldiers of the Military division, handpicked by the Chairman himself—the Vice-Chair always consigned in every word and act a demeanor of professionalism and seriousness. It was often surprising he treated everyone under him like equals. Now that he thought about it, the Modifier could not recall an incident he witnessed in person or heard about via random chatter that damaged Yamaki's unsullied reputation with fits of anger, derogatory remarks, or offensive actions.

Even though Yamaki himself managed all of R&D's operations along with a multitude of responsibilities involving M&A, it was funny—though in an absolutely pitiful manner—how his best traits didn't flow downstream. Otherwise, Kurata wouldn't be laughing so hard at Aldo's comments. Neither would the Modifier be balling his hands into fists and clenching them so tightly they shuddered violently.

The good doctor never saw this and, letting the hilarity fade into soft chuckling after a minute, leaned on one of the many concrete pillars scattered across the entire platform and wiped the water gathering in his eyes the moment he was comfortable.

"You've got quite the imagination." The sarcasm was discernable. Easily discernable. Kurata did not play subtly. "Please, Kikuchi, whatever you call it, it'll help us enhance your digivices and dark matter—I mean, æther," emerged the self-correction. He was still acclimating to its usage, "weapons in a couple of weeks."

"You better," Aldo snarled, stretching his neck 'til something cracked, providing much relief for the russet Modifier. "After all those tests you put me through?"

Colluding with his rumbling stomach, those damn tests aggravated his crabby mood. Dr. Kurata, on Yamaki's behalf, had him perform Digital Modification multiples times, pushing it and his own stamina to uncharted limits.

At the very least, Yamaki would have the respect and consideration to bring him some food from the cafeteria.

Another reason why Aldo despised nerds overtaken with the obsessive compulsion of following through their experiments to the very end without a single break.

"But, I have to admit," Aldo pulled back the right sleeve of his uniform, revealing the thin digivice attached to the catchlock device worn on the wrist. "Playing with this thing was sooooo awesome."

One of the more memorable experiments involved the exploration of Biomorph, a new type of digital modification that literally imbued the destructive power of a digimon on the Modifier. Blue lines of energy carrying this power would coalesce around the user, forming a resilient armor embedded with strength and revitalizing energy. Ready for combat.

It was the human equivalent of Armor Evolution. Of course, the fact Colonel Reeves managed to draw the power of Paildramon—an Ultimate-class digimon, by DSI standards—out of his digivice instead of Fladramon or Lighdramon meant every Modifier could access the latent abilities of a digimon's underlying evolution line.

This in itself trumped the original ability possessed by the SCAI's possessed by the Twelve.

Aldo Kikuchi, of course, was thrilled by the prospect of wielding Imperialdramon's glory in Paladin mode. Childishly thrilled.

"Still," he resumed his complaints. "You should've scheduled this tomorrow or something. God, being cooped up in that godforsaken room for one day's just too"—his stomach growled again.—"Effing…!" He yawned. "Damn, I've never been this sleepy and hungry..."

If I recall right, the nearest cafeteria's close to the Eigth Gate. It was a fifteen minute walk from the Ninth Gate's stop.

As if privy to his thoughts, "There's a 24-hour McDonald's in the Eighth Gate's cafeteria." Kurata brought out a rather fat wallet from his black slacks and handed a ¥10,000 bill to the Modifier. "Grab a value meal and coffee. It's on me."

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Aldo snatched the money and pocketed it, thinking it atonement for the theft of his time. He fixed his dark blue uniform, pulling up his pants. Then he turned the opposite direction and sauntered across the platform, heading for the other end. Aldo, having been employed by the DSI's military division for a few years, was keen on the layout of its corridors.

It felt relaxing, actually, to walk alone. Normally, the train platform would be bustling with activity. Administrative workers and low-level managers, along with researchers and technicians, were the most frequent users of the train line connecting the Odaiba and Shinjuku wings of the headquarters. Oftentimes, mundane conversations struck with a fellow DSI coworker at random revolved around technical subjects involving the nature of digital particles or the particulars of certain equipment, as well as more quotidian choices, such as gossip.

Though the Digital Suppression Initiative was a military organization in its own right, it was still a commercial authority with overreaching arms and a world-renowned reputation. The DSI Chairman, whoever he was, didn't wish discomfort on his non-military subordinates by forcing them out of Shinjuku to take a long commute to Odaiba and vice-versa.

Assuming what Yamaki said during the commencement of its construction reflected the Chairman's words.

Aldo basked in the serenity the thunderous silence of the platform emitted, taking in the rather artistic way the surrounding walls were painted. Even the escalators, situated in the center of the platform on either end, directing its passengers to the corridors leading to the First to Fourth Gates, weren't spared.

Tap.

Their sides were colorfully decorated with the image of men and their families living happy lives, with SCAIs on the ground around their feet, staring up with a kind of happiness only one could associate with a domesticated mind. With an animal. A pet.

Tap. Tap. The sound of leather shoes slapping the solid floor.

Aldo had taken only a few steps when he noticed something wrong. His ears registered footsteps coming from behind, dogging him. Knowing it was so late very few people were using the train, not to mention the area of the platform he was just at was devoid of life, there was only one reasonable explanation.

Tap.

Kikuchi wheeled around. As expected, Dr. Kurata was sauntering right behind him. The Modifier raised his eyebrows, directing his green eyes at the R&D PhD holder. He raised his arms in frustration. "Yo!"

Kurata replied with nothing but a puzzled glance, like there was nothing wrong with stalking the scout.

"You following me?" he interrogated. "Isn't our debriefing over already? Or are you tagging along for more observation?"

The moment he said those words, Kurata started chortling. Again. Did he not sense the sarcasm in the last one? Letting out a snarl, Aldo Kikuchi stepped towards the scientist, closing the gap. He prepared his fist for a swift uppercut to the chin. That man was definitely getting on his nerves.

"I'm already done with you, Kikuchi."

He stopped.

"Well, why—

Kurata pointed to the escalator right behind Aldo. "I'm heading to my office," he retorted, adding a grunt in the next moment. "Hmph. Unlike you, I still got work to do." Some blather followed, "Plus, there seems to be something I'm forgetting…"

Aldo heard neither the complaint nor the rambling. All his ears recognized was Kurata saying he had an office. "Your office?" This was interesting. R&D personnel never had offices in the M&A Wing, with the exception of Mitsuo Yamaki, but only because he was the second-in-command. "You have an office?"

Kurata rolled his eyes. "Yes, Kikuchi," he said dully, obviously thinking the topic was stupid, even for Aldo. "I have an office. Every lead researcher—

"In M&A," pressed the scout, interrupting him. "You have an office. In M&A."

A nod. "It's on the 83rd floor." The flat tone gave away his disinterest along with his intent on walking away that very second.

In fact, Akihiro Kurata had gone on and did it, passing Aldo, veering for the escalator. The two sensors five feet before the steps detected the Head Scientist's approach and promptly activated the track. (If it wasn't for Aldo pondering on Kurata's answer, he would've marveled at how the underground train connecting R&D to M&A was just like one of the many subway stations plying the rest of Tokyo.)

"Eighty-third?" repeated Aldo, muttering to himself. That's where the high-level executives reside. Naturally, the Chairman had the eighty-fourth level all to himself.

He eyed the scientist, who planted his leather shoes on the steps. "Wait a f*cking minute!" the scout chased after him. "Why the hell does a fool like YOU get an office way up—

"AHA! There you are!"

Waiting for Aldo and Kurata atop the escalators was the strangest-looking man he had ever seen within the confines of the DSI headquarters. The scout's green eyes gawked at the stranger's finely-shaped abdomen, surprised even more to realize someone in this disciplined building was half-naked underneath his azure trench coat.

The next thing Aldo stared at were the goggles strapped to his hairline. Yellow lens. Red frame. It looked like it was made for industrial-type work. Further entrenching the rather unprofessional aura he exuded were the denim pants and heavy-looking boots. He approached the head scientist. "Akihiro Kurata."

Aldo easily mistook this man for a hooligan who somehow bypassed all security measures and snuck into the lowest levels of the Military & Administration Wing to sully the pristine corridors. He would've taken out his sidearm and aimed it at this intruder if it wasn't for Kurata approaching him with a sly grin and, in a gesture of welcome, shook his hand. "Simoun Prime," the scout heard him acknowledge.

They chorused, "Good to meet you."

What the eff.

Simoun stuck his left hand into the pockets of his denim jeans (very deep pockets, it seemed) and dug out a crumpled piece of paper he stuffed in it. "The Chairman's memo told me to meet you by the First Gate's elevator an hour ago."

To the scout, it was positively astounding. Only men of considerable talent and success would warrant the Chairman's attention. A brief screening of Simoun's clothing was all Aldo needed to categorize him as a "punk". Neither did he look capable of taking on administrative and scientific roles in the DSI nor could Kikuchi picture him doing something decent.

And if he was truly a man of talent and success?

Aldo would fall back on the ancient adage: first impressions last.

To the head scientist, instead of dumbfounded disgust, a flashbulb somewhere within his head brightened. "Ah," muttered Kurata, ignorant of Simoun's boorish attire. "So that's what I forgot."

"You forgot?" reiterated Simoun. He was stunned. Regaining his composure, he lifted up the scrap of paper and gave it a light slap. "Didn't the Chairman fax you this notice or something?"

It was a chance to pull down Kurata's reputation further than it already was (Aldo was assuming Akihiro's coworkers weren't glowing when it came to peer reviews). "Apparently," he began, inserting himself into the conversation. Insolence impregnated his sentence. "the good doctor here ignores everything when he develops an obsession for experiments."

Aldo wanted Kurata to crash and burn in his own game of sarcasm.

"Psh!" harrumphed the Head Scientist, pouting. "Someone in my position isn't as irresponsible as you described."

"Tell that to my stomach, you effing nerd," Aldo retaliated. "Locking me in your lab for the entire day with little to eat," he grumbled at a volume loud enough for Simoun to faintly hear.

Simoun stared at Kurata, who pushed his circular glasses up the bridge of his nose. "You seriously did that?"

Aldo's lips curled into a mischievous smirk. Gotcha.

"Sacrifices must be made for the pursuit of knowledge and improvement," asserted Kurata, defending himself with a sentence that sounded more like a quote than a real answer.

"Fool! Sacrifices aren't made on someone else's expense!" rudely rebutted the Modifier.

Simoun, letting Aldo's words pass through his ears, shook his head. Speculating the scientist's autonomy and tinge of recklessness, "Whoa, guarding you's gonna be hell."

"Actually," Kurata prepared his correction, "it's going to be prrrreeet-ty fun."

"What do you mean?"

Aldo was pissed off. "I'm talking to you, fool!"

Dr. Kurata slung his hand over Simoun's shoulder and escorted him towards the descending steps. "We'll talk some more in the Chairman's laboratory…"

"Damn nerd!" he followed. "I'm—Wait a minute." He gaped at the R&D employee, then the hooligan beside him. "The Chairman's giving you a bodyguard?"

This time Kurata heard him. Or rather, the scientist acknowledged his voice, much to Aldo's intensified annoyance. "Exactly what you just said."

"Why?"

Akihiro Kurata shrugged. "Who knows? Nobody's ever met the Chairman in person sans Yamaki. Everyone else connected to him just get memos."

"But aren't we going to his private lab?" posed Simoun. "I DO know he's the only one with access to it. Not even the Vice-Chair's allowed to—

Kurata's new bodyguard was silenced by the sight of a white card held between his index and middle fingers. Possessing a microchip within, the card was emblazoned with the logo of the DSI. The scientist's name was embossed on it, clearly visible, even to Aldo, who stood a few feet away.

"Your worries are pointless," Kurata grinned. "I have full access."

"Anything related to the Chairman's top secret," Aldo debated. "I really doubt that little thing will get you past all the security."

"I'll say it again," he asserted, his assault carrying a tone of finality. "FULL access," Kurata emphasized, pocketing the passcard in his lab coat. "Immense comprehension of and closeness to the Chairman's vision for the DSI provides many, many benefits."

Aldo couldn't believe what the man just said. "You're shitting me! You're ranks below Yamaki!"

"Too engrossed with his Digital Modification project," Akihiro listed. "Vision of DSI deviates sllllllightly from the Chairman's; lacks managerial experience despite achievements; and refuses to personally lead our soldiers in the Digital World."

It left the scout stupefied. Whoa. Mitsuo Yamaki had a contender for the Vice-Chairman position, and he probably didn't know it!

"Need more?" offered Kurata.

"I've heard enough."

"Great!"

Before Aldo Kikuchi could leave Akihiro Kurata and Simoun Prime alone to wait for the train's return and head for the 24-hour McDonald's, "Don't forget, Kikuchi!"

Huh? He stopped and glanced back at the scientist. "What?" Aldo heard the train's slow approach, the sound of its wheels plying the steel tracks echoing in the empty platform.

"Keep your digivice safe! There's no shortcut to recharging your battery."

Aldo rolled his eyes. He didn't need this nerd coddling him like a mother! "Yeah, yeah," he mumbled. "Conventional charging doesn't work, but it recovers power over time, I know." He groaned. "Sheesh."

"Good job," Kurata praised his memory.

The compliment felt degrading. Condescension was Kurata's style of attack, and this deceptive praise was no different. Aldo's heart sought nothing more but his fist pounding the Head Scientist's eye and breaking those circular frames while he's at it.

His body however, protested. Aldo's stomach had become so impatient it denied the scout's ability to follow through on this sudden urge and snarled, hitting him with pain worse than getting a headbutt in the solar plexus from Daisuke's Veemon.

Aldo kept himself calm and maintained his speed towards the corridors. The last sounds of life his ears seized in the train platform were the reverberating footsteps made by Simoun and Kurata's embarkment.

As the train's doors closed in with a subtle swhick, the Head Scientist shouted with glee, "IT'S SHOWTIME! Haha!"

The Modifier shook his head and groaned.

And Tina asks me why I hate nerds.

---

"ACHOO!"

Despite the heavy rain assailing the roofed porch and the nearby streets, Janyu Li's sneeze overcame the continuous noise of the torrent raining down from above. Tailmon's ears twitched at the sudden sound, her blue eyes gazing straight at the corpulent man before them. The cloud of spittle that would've struck the three Chosen went straight into the sleeves of his gray blazer, which was hastily worn on top of a cobalt-dyed t-shirt.

Obviously Veemon, Hikari, and Tailmon herself weren't expected to visit the Li family. Especially not when it was a few minutes past midnight. The Digimon of Light conjectured Kiriha Ichijouji took his sweet time notifying the head of the Li household of their then-impending arrival.

Besides, even if they did show up unannounced, the group of three wasn't likely to encounter rejections from people connected to the Chosen Children, particularly the Twelve. Each one of them was famous, having made appearances in television and in magazines such as Time early in the past decade.

Still, that was simply Hikari's theory, formulated as they were traveling several hundred feet in the air above Tokyo, where the naked eye would have trouble spotting them. Tailmon, as Nefertimon, had been instructed to raise her altitude as they closed in on the metropolis's skyline.

Sitting on her back, with one hand taking a secure hold on the metal breastplate, the Child of Light had her cellphone flipped open, its screen displaying a satellite map and their location, determined by GPS.

It was funny, or pathetic rather, how neither the Japanese government nor the Digital Suppression Initiative figured out the connection between Hikari Yagami and Kari Kamiya, the name given to NTT DoCoMo for her mobile plan. How Taichi managed to setup phone plans for all high-level Digidestined personnel including the few Chosen Children in the political group when they were being hunted down worldwide was a logistical mystery to everyone but the man himself. (Koushirou might be more informed, though. Being the computer geek had its advantages…)

"A few more minutes to Tetsugakudo Park," Nefertimon heard her human half mumble.

"Should I descend?" inquired the Armor-level. The clouds have thickened, threatening to pour rain over the group. They couldn't afford getting sick, not tonight!

In an instant, Hikari squeezed the exposed fur she could see from her seat. The go-ahead signal.

Not one to dive in without warning, "How's Veemon doing?" Hikari may have forgotten about the extra passenger sitting on Nefertimon's rear end. Luckily for the Digimon of Miracles, sitting on her body ensured constant awareness of his presence.

A few seconds later, the white sphinx felt the blue dragon shifting towards her torso, latching onto her armor, steering clear of the stubs from which her wings protruded.

Still, Veemon's safety wasn't the only thing clouding her head. He was an important friend of hers, well above the others aside from Patamon (duh) and Agumon (moreso!), and keeping track of his emotional and psychological state was just as important.

Without uttering a word, Hikari caressed one of Nefertimon's humerus, deliberately but gently.

It was another signal.

"No changes," the gesture communicated.

Nefertimon banked left, diving towards Nakano at a frightening rate. It was expected for her passengers to tighten their grips, however…

"WHOOOOAAAAAAA!" Veemon, presumably taking cues from Hikari's relaxed state, underestimated the intensity of their descent. He had been gripping the sphinx's armor so tightly, beads of sweat formed a greasy film around his fingers. The lubricated digits were useless and, the inevitable scenario, his hands literally slipped.

The dragon's survival instincts kicked in. The rapid descent, Nefertimon's prolonged acceleration, and the constant sensation of falling, all combined with his brain's recognition of his body no longer in contact with the diving Armor-level's body had Veemon immediately seek out the closest thing he could get his hands on.

His limbs shot out towards the direction of his lost grip. Fortunately for the entire group (and especially for him), Veemon found something to hold onto and seized it as tight as he could, to the extent he dug his tiny, white claws into it.

Unfortunately for the entire group, the Digimon of Miracles jabbed Nefertimon's exposed fur and, it went without saying, her unprotected skin. Pain took over the sphinx mid-descent. "AAAHH!" she curtly shrieked, jerking sideways, nearly bucking Veemon and Hikari off her back.

"NEFERTIMON!" exclaimed the younger Yagami, her dainty hands clutching both the armor and her humerus. "What happened?"

The Digimon of Light eased the angle of her fall. "Look behind you," propounded her voice. "Then slap Veemon for me," she dryly added. "Please," Nefertimon emphasized, feeling warm liquid trickling down her sides.

"Why? He hasn't"—Hikari stopped, probably catching sight of the shallow wounds that almost cost her and the culprit their lives. "VEEMON!"

Though it was only his name she spoke, it was fully intended as an admonishment. A scolding.

The one responsible for this brief and definitely unwarranted stunt recognized the reproach from her acerbic tone. "Sooorrryyyy!" the apologetic whine was verbalized. Nefertimon was visualizing an uneasy Veemon blessing her human half with a gauche stare, scratching the back of his head. "At least we're still alive, right?" he tried to downplay. "You know what, maybe you should consider doing stunts—

Hikari Yagami slapped the blue dragon so hard it shut him up for the rest of the landing. It was a perfectly reasonable and mature decision: Nefertimon, for her part, also swore she would never have the Digimon of Miracles ride on her back for anything other than serious business, i.e. matters of life and death.

Veemon leaped off the moment they touched down on the street. "YEEEY!" he exclaimed, kissing the gritty asphalt without regard for the shining light behind him. His relief and comical manner of expressing it was understandable: falling from that height wouldn't bestow any chances for survival for him so long as he was Child-level. "Back on the ground at last!"

The light of devolution encasing Tailmon dispersed like a bursting firework, releasing the white cat from its bosom. As she emerged from the bright light, Tailmon found herself analyzing the feeling of devolution.

Evolution felt like the receipt of limitless energy, adding euphoria and much confidence as the body changed form. The changes were all instantaneous, and anyone undergoing evolution wouldn't feel a thing. In human context, it was similar to fridge brilliance. One moment one was stupid and stumped over something, and the next one acquired an insightful comprehension, wondering how it wasn't perceived earlier when it was "so simple".

Devolution wasn't the exact opposite. Hikari loved analogizing it to the release of exhaustion, to the stripping of the burdens carried by the heart and body. Much of the pain borne by the higher form would vanish along with the light, alleviating the problem slightly. The keyword, though, was slightly. In battle, a digimon that had its arm sliced off would, upon devolution, still have its limb attached but be in terrible agony from the attack, enormously enfeebled.

In Tailmon's case, her sides were still aching from Veemon's claws. The sight of the blue dragon prostrating himself to the very earth out of reprieve annoyed her. Didn't he realize Tailmon's devolution was bright enough to attract the attention of anyone who saw it? Besides that, the scene of a digimon kissing asphalt and a digimon-human pair beside it was more than likely to rouse suspicion in the neighborhood.

Walking towards him, Tailmon was all set to bash his thick head in physically and verbally for these careless—and childish—mannerisms before they were seen. Never mind the fact the rainclouds were starting to drizzle. The need to satisfy her urge to hit him overrode the need to find shelter.

This desire was consequently overridden by the door of a traditional-styled Japanese house being opened by a rotund, blue-haired adult, who buttoned his gray blazer. Thoughts of anxiety and fear of being chased by peacekeepers and, later, DSI soldiers rooted Tailmon to the spot, until she discerned him waving them to come over.

Janyu's timing was perfect, too; the drizzle was swiftly becoming rain. Denser by the minute.

"I was looking out the window when you landed," explained the family man. "You three are pretty lucky." His eyes sent a passing glance to the street, now inundated by raindrops, not noticing Hikari's and Tailmon's brief stare on Veemon.

"Kiriha forgot to give me your number when he called an hour ago, err, Hikari, was it?" He tendered his hand for a shake.

Hikari accepted the offer, confirming her identity. "Thanks for your help, Mr. Li. I really appreciate it. We didn't want to bother you like this in the middle of the night but—

"Don't worry about it!" Janyu twittered, maintaining the warm hospitality. "Always an honor to help the Twelve any way we can."

"THE TWELVE?" screamed a young girl from inside.

"Xiaochun, wait!"

A preadolescent girl, clothed in a fuchsia mandarin gown, suddenly burst from the doorway, her head inserting itself through the gap between Janyu's waist and the wooden frame. Xiaochun Li eyeballed the three of them for so many seconds Tailmon felt awkward. "Ooooooh, it reaaally IS the Twelve!"

Her light brown eyes moved from one to another. "There's Hikari… Tailmon… and…"

The little girl squealed when she recognized the blue dragon. "OOOHHHH IT'S VEEMON!"

Veemon glanced nervously at Tailmon just before Xiaochun ran forward and tackled him on the spot. "He's sooooooooo cute! In person's waaayy better than the animé!" She started rubbing her face on the dragon's white chest and belly in pure adoration.

Tailmon giggled at the sight, on the verge of breaking into ostensible laughter when she caught the redness on Veemon's muzzle and his struggles to liberate himself from this awkward and uncomfortable position on the floor. (In retrospect, it reminded Tailmon of the encounters with her fanbase. God, each rabid fan was a terrible experience. And then there's the whole fanfiction crap…)

"Can, uhh, someone get this fangirl off, me?" Veemon pleaded. "Anyone? NOW?"

"Xiaochun!" called a stern voice. A teenager in an orange vest, of no more than fifteen, walked past the open door. A white digimon resembling a terrier was perched on the top of his head, its long ears reaching down to the tatami's wooden flooring. Tailmon recalled meeting another member of its species ten years ago. A terriermon.

"You can't just pounce on guests like that," the teen censured. "It's rude."

"But Jianliang!" she complained. "Look!" Xiaochun held Veemon for her brother to see. "It's Veemon! The Veemon!"

"He's still our guest, little sis…"

"He's right, Xiaochun." Janyu kneeled before her, gently prying her fingers off Veemon's body. ("Thank you.")

"But…!"

"Especially if they're celebrities."

"O, okay," she acceded with a tinge of shallow gloom.

Hearing three stomachs growl in front of him, he proposed, "Why don't you go see what we have in the fridge? I don't think they've eaten yet."

"Okay!" The youth acceded once more, her disappointment turning into joy. It wasn't surprising to see her happy as she returned to the house; the thought of having three famous people and feeding them was an effective incentive.

Jianliang beat Janyu to the apology. "Sorry 'bout my sister," he articulated. "Xiaochun's really playful and all"—a chuckle—"and you can say Veemon's been her favorite digimon since—

"Since Zero Two, I bet," the dragon grumbled. "Dammit, why are so many people obsessed with me? I personally think Tailmon's cuter than—

"Are you alright?" interrupted Jianliang, tilting his head. "You sound angry."

"He's been having a rough day," Tailmon and Hikari answered simultaneously. They looked at each other for a split second. It was rare for their minds to be in sync.

Upon hearing that, Terriermon's mouth exploded, hurling what was obviously a foreign language at the group. "无问题!" The grin on his lips and the cheerful beads that were his eyes were trained on the blue dragon. Is that supposed to cheer him up? Tailmon wondered.

"Remember," Jianliang murmured. He was whispering at a volume audible only to those on the porch. His words took on a veil of slight disapproval and criticism. "You're not wearing your triband." Just then Tailmon realized they could still be seen by curious neighbors and passersby so long as they were on the porch.

"Heehee!" the Child-level grinned. "Sorry, Jianliang! I'll go back now." Terriermon kicked off Jianliang's head and returned into the house.

"Ow!" The tamer's fingers scratched the spot his digimon partner leaped from, rubbing the ultramarine-laden head he inherited it from his dad. "Geez, he didn't have to do that." Then he turned to Veemon, dropping to one knee. "But Terriermon's right: you don't look so good."

"You think?" the Chosen spat, cranky from all the unnecessary attention. Tailmon could discern a desire to be alone for the moment.

Fortunately, so did Jianliang. "We got some beer in the fridge, if you want."

Veemon didn't provide a real response. "Well…"

This time Janyu intervened, first addressing the dragon digimon. "You can have Xiaochun's old room while you're getting ready for your mission. I think the time alone would do you some good."

"R-really?" Tailmon heard a subtle anticipation in that remark.

The family man nodded. "Yes. Hasn't been used in a bit." Attending to Hikari and Tailmon, "You two can use our guest room, then. That good?"

"Highly appreciated," muttered the Child of Light, grateful. "Thanks."

Afterwards, Janyu stood aside and beckoned for them to enter. "Now come in, let's get you settled in a bit and we'll call you once the food's ready."

"You don't have to do that," said Hikari.

Janyu ignored her. "I insist."

Jianliang rotated and sauntered back inside. The teen turned to Veemon, head twitching towards the doorway. "C'mon, Veemon, I'll walk you to your room."

The Digimon of Miracles followed the teen in. Janyu looked expectantly at Hikari and Tailmon, waiting for them to enter the house. The lady Yagami's feet were about to start pacing when she suddenly stopped and, digging her hands into the pockets of her auburn pants, pulled out a rectangular, clamshell device about six inches in length and half as long in width.

It was her D-Terminal.

Tailmon noticed the sudden dilation of her irises the moment her human half flipped open the cover and read the screen. "Hikari," she accosted, looking up at her beloved friend and surrogate sister. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing, Tailmon," she reassured her. "Let's go in."

The reassuring display did not convince the white cat. Something was wrong. Hikari did not bother pocketing the D-Terminal when she marched into the Li family's house, letting it dangle by her side, held precariously by her delicate fingers.

Tailmon understood this strange behavior when she glimpsed the Kanji on the sender's data field.

Hikari Yagami had received a message.

From Miyako Inoue.

---

Christopher Van Numen won the race to Tokyo, arriving at the outskirts of the metropolis about forty-five minutes ahead of Nefertimon and her two passengers. Exploiting his extreme strength, the blond bent his legs and leaped straight to the rooftops of medium-rise buildings. Proceeding with his eastern run, the blond jumped from one roof to another, whether it was a commercial building, a condominium, an apartment complex, or a hotel.

When Chris finally stopped, a good ten to fifteen minutes had passed. Standing on top of the Grand Prince Hotel Takanawa in Minato, the blond found himself balancing on the narrow concrete fence running the perimeter of its roof. Falling from the low height of a hundred feet would produce a medium-sized crater and a loud, crashing sound that would be far more detrimental than the negligible injuries sustained from the impact.

The fear of heights, however, did not consume Christopher, as it would for most people. What made him pause was the scenery unfolding two kilometers before him. From the top of the hotel, Chris could not only see the Rainbow Bridge but also the Daikanransha Ferris wheel.

Just what I needed, fumed Christopher, another reminder.

It was a spectacular sight. The white towers supporting the world-famous suspension bridge were painted in a curious combination of red, white, and green. At twelve midnight the transient population was low, although the few cars plying across its two decks would be showered upon by the spectrum many a local believed—asserted—contributed to its colloquial name.

Christopher Van Numen, however, did not feel any sort of amazement take hold of him. The only thing that did capture him was a heavy weight on his chest, one easily (and temporarily) relieved with a long sigh.

Face it, Christopher, he told himself, fighting whatever ensnared him. You're in this too deep. Remember, man, remember…

"It was for the greater good." Exhaling his troubles, the blond dived forward.

The walkways running on the Rainbow Bridge's sides were closed to the public by midnight, but Christopher paid no heed to the "NO ENTRY" signs beside the entrance. With one leap he leapt over the divider and landed on the thick cables suspending the structure itself, lifting up the blend of asphalt, concrete, steel, and flesh, its massive size providing Christopher with a five-foot walkway.

No guards. No through traffic. Accompanying the blond were the radiance of the lamps responsible for the bridge's eponymous trademark and the strong gusts of wind blanketing the upper area of the structure. Chris had no problem with it, so long as he watched where he was going.

Unfortunately for him, he wasn't. The Realm Scanner had been activated the moment he set foot on the massive cable, with the HUD covering his eyes set onto the expanded map, zoomed out just enough for an inch to represent half a kilometer. Retrieve DNA sample. Keyword: Lalamon.

The R-Scanner's target was none other than Yoshino's partner digimon, that floating flower bud. She wasn't Chris's prime objective for this task. Her older sister was. Tina, until last week, once worked for the Modifiers. She would have information on the Odaiba entrance. No doubt about it.

Seeker, he mentally commanded, initiating the program that would track the digimon based on the DNA sample Christopher obtained from the saliva coated by the spat-out bolus he rubbed onto the Scanner's azure orb.

Another tab was opened simultaneously. Storage, he ordered, quickly demanding for his precious, digital camera, forcing his high-tech bracer to open its memory card. The first photograph it opened was one of a young, raven-haired teenager of about twelve years, whose arm rounded the shoulder of an older, pale-skinned man Christopher recognized as Chester Wilferson. Both faced the camera, holding glasses of frothy liquor in the air with nothing but mirth on their faces.

The only thing Christopher had in common with the youthful adolescent was the medallion dangling on their necks

Ignoring this picture, he went straight to the end, seeking only to view the photos Veemon took when he was playing with his camera during the previous night. Even though the shots prominently featured the dragon, the many expressions (ranging from formal to wacky and cute) he could make with his muzzle, and random shots of the passing scenery, the blond went through each one slowly. No matter how well or horrible they were taken.

Each time he came across a photograph of Veemon grinning, the only emotion he would feel was immense remorse. The sight of the Daikanransha, though obscured by the HUD's translucent sheen, did not make him feel any better, for it was a cruel reminder of the few times he had truly acknowledged their brief, but tight friendship.

"…You're feeling guilty about this…"

The second tab then prominently displayed a rather cute picture of Veemon sitting on Chris's shoulders, mesmerizing the blond. Left hand propped on his head, with face directed towards the camera he lifted on his outstretched right hand, taking on a big grin. Thank to the angle of the shot and the way Veemon held the Canon Ixus, it was a photograph that captured his entire body, if one didn't count the fact Chris's body obstructed his tail and legs. "Now that's a keeper!" the blond recalled the Chosen saying with a happy chuckle. "Chris, check this out."

Who knew he'd be that delighted with his digital camera?

He took a deep breath and sighed, letting Shuu's analysis exploit his vulnerability. "Like me, you're a full-grown adult, yet you aren't mature enough for this sort of decision."

Before the memory could replay further, Christopher felt gravity pull him down with nothing to resist its force. Air began flowing upwards and his stomach felt the familiar sensation of floating.

Falling, rather.

So engrossed was the depressed blond he slipped in his footing. He made a grab for the nearest hold—the giant cable, any one of the thin but strong wires lining the sides, or even the very road they held up—but Chris was just too far. He stuck his hands into his pockets, reaching for—

Never mind.

Christopher fell into the icy waters of the Tokyo Bay just as the Realm Scanner found Lalamon's current location, adding a pink triangle to the map displayed in the first tab. Cursing the ill-fated timing, Goddammit. Now he was forced to swim.

It didn't matter, still. While most people would be frightened to death and shivering their way to hypothermia in this situation, Christopher was rather calm and actually comfortable with the temperature and buoyancy. The fact he wasn't normal like most people helped immensely.

As he swam to the shoreline of the artificial island, Chris's mind wandered once more, thinking about the emotions intermittently consuming his every thought.

They numbed him, burdened him. The sheer thought of it tempted him to go on a bloodthirsty rampage, killing everything and everyone in sight. Was this how Shuu felt when he and Jun broke up? This reg—no, regret was not the proper word.

What Christopher felt was closer to anger. To undying rage. Directed at the very threads of fate that brought about the despicable circumstances he continued to operate in. He only had nothing but justified rage and cruelty, rationalized consequences for being deprived of relationships in general, arguably the most important thing in life.

Surely this was the very same emotion gripping Shuu Kido. Christopher believed, despite Shuu's insistence he no longer held regrets, the elder Kido still had some form of compunction lingering within his soul somewhere. Breaking up with one's significant other for the sake of that person and one's principles was just as bad as dissolving a strong friendship for the very same reason. No matter how many years would pass, there would always be regret lurking deep within his psyche.

It was precisely this reason that prevented Christopher from disposing his digital camera. It may be primitive in comparison to everything on his person, but in its memory card were his most precious memories, every photograph backed up in the Realm Scanner's immense memory.

Exacerbating Christopher's guilt was his own confusion of his dissolved ties with the Digimon of Miracles. The blond had never betrayed anyone he considered true friends, those who were worthy of knowing who he truly was beyond the ruthless, noninterventionist renegade veneer he took on in the presence of others.

If he never considered Veemon a friend, why was he feeling this bad about the separation? Until now he still couldn't forget the tear-drenched eyes and the grieving expression on his muzzle. Chris never had exceptional people skills, and back in the past, it was usually Sally or Ivan who took on the job of "training him".

This emotional rollercoaster was another reminder of his losses.

Beep.

The HUD flashed red, beeping a few more times to seize Christopher's attention. He gazed up at the 10-floor apartment complex before him. Then he blanched, wishing he could slam his fists into the road and throw a piece of the asphalt at the nearest car. He clenched his fists at the sight.

The blond had no problem with the architecture. The layout of the building was rather simple, really. One normally entered the building through any of the ground-level entrances centered on its sides. Visitors and residents alike take the elevator to the floor of their destination, walking through the corridor to the rooms. Some of these rooms, however, on certain apartment buildings, could only be accessed via corridor decks enclosed by a concrete fence.

Christopher did not need his holographic map to pinpoint Lalamon's exact location. Adding filters and other visual icons to his sharp vision were all that's needed to direct his goldenrod eyes to a green door on the 8th floor, third from the very left. It was discernible from the ground.

What caused his recoil was not the realization he spent so much time thinking about his compunction he found himself standing before the destination with seawater still dripping from his clothes.

"Wait!" chirped Veemon, asking the blond to stop and let him leap down from his back. Since their first pit stop in Odaiba that afternoon, the blue dragon had been directing Chris to the elementary school his human half and friends attended ten years ago when his crimson eyes discovered this building.

Though the two of them were a couple of streets apart from the 10-storey building, Veemon could not help but take three to four steps towards it. "Whoa, it hasn't changed a single bit."

"What hasn't changed?" Chris felt compelled to ask, giving the Chosen an inquisitive stare.

"What do you think?" he scoffed, rolling his eyes. Veemon pointed at the tallest building in the vicinity as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "That."

Chris did not say anything. He merely nodded. A silent cue for the blue dragon to initiate an explanation of some sort. The Digimon of Miracles picked this up quite easily. "I used to live there," he said. "Daisuke, me," he breathed, "and the rest of the family, until we all moved out in 2005."

The blond pretended to take note. He was going to forget about this in the next fifteen minutes anyway. There was no point to entertaining Veemon's worthless details of the past except for respect and, as always, genuine curiosity.

Before Chris could insist for them to move forward, the blue dragon seized his attention by leaping straight up to his chest and, taking hold of the blond's shirt, identifying his old apartment. "See that brown door, Chris?" A blue digit was trained straight at a door on the eighth floor. "It's the one on the farthest left. Unit 825."

"Uhm, I don't…"

Veemon exhaled an exasperated grunt and, taking hold of Chris's jaw, shifted his face in the right direction. "See it?" he babbled like a child. "See it?"

He wasn't so blind he required the Chosen's assistance. Chris already saw the door the moment he pointed it out. The blond could even read the number nailed to the wood itself. "Yeah, Vee," he acknowledged. "I see it." Then his goldenrod eyes fell on Veemon's muzzle. "I see it alright."

"Now let me go." It was impossible for Veemon not to notice his frustrated stare. His snout was so close the dragon could probably see the annoyance in Christopher's countenance. "Haha," he sheepishly laughed to dispel the tension.

He failed miserably. "Ha, ha." His palms released the blond's jaw.

"Dude, do not do that again." Chris couldn't look at Veemon straight. "It's humiliating," he admitted.

"Okay," the Digimon of Miracles acceded drearily, planting his foot on Chris's chest. Veemon swiveled around his neck to take a rather comfortable seat on his shoulders. "I won't," he pledged, fixing his tail so it ran down the blond's back. "I won't."

"You happy?" Before Chris could answer, Veemon pinched the blond's cheeks and pulled them apart in the shape of a forced grin. He giggled playfully. "Heh, thought so."

Apparently he did not forget about the Motomiyas' old apartment. Unit 825 was still there, just as he remembered it. Still brown. Compelled by his thoughts' short brush with the memory, Chris juxtaposed it to the door marked by the R-Scanner's seeker program and uncovered a useless piece of information.

"Haha…"

It just so happened Tina's unit was right next door.

Chris laughed, because he perceived the tragic irony of this revelation. "Hahaha…"

No doubt the trivia would make his former friend wonder whether the Fujiedas and the Motomiyas were once neighbors, or were actually acquaintances. Better yet, friends.

But the blond was not thinking about this at all as he dashed and, through a powerful leap, jumped all the way to the eighth floor. His mouth had curved into a frightening grin, constantly exhaling a cacophony of laughter gifted by malevolent stains.

Chris laughed, because the R-Scanner just indicated the full restoration of its Assault Mode.

"BWAHAHAHA!" he celebrated, slamming the green door with a powerful kick. He literally made the wooden panel fly airborne in not less than ten shards of lumber. Anyone who heard the sudden crash and mustered the balls to investigate would be greeted with a blast of æther. No one could stop him now!

Christopher Van Numen wasn't leaving Unit 824 without his precious information.

.

.

.

Ignoring his troubled conscience and sticking true to both his mission and philosophical ideals, Christopher invades Tina Fujieda's home in the middle of the night, seeking information that would allow him to pursue his only lead to the third fragment of the Realmstone. Emboldened by the restoration of the Realm Scanner's Assault Mode, Chris continues to make bold moves without fear, his power multiplying immensely to the horror of those who realize his lack of emotional maturity.

On the other hand, as the trio of Chosen prepare for a three-hour stay in the Li family's house, Veemon begins to show signs of recovery. However, the message from Miyako's D-Terminal unsettles the Child of Light.

How will Christopher Van Numen carry himself during his home invasion? What was written on the message displayed in Hikari's D-Terminal? Coming up next on "The Interloper", Psychoanalysis.

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Post-chapter author's notes:

[4] Before I say anything else, I'd like to point out that all characters and concepts from Star Ocean: Till the End of Time and Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann are not mine. Tetsugakudo Park can be found in real life, as is the telecommunications company NTT DoCoMo.

[5] The characters "无问题 " actually represent Terriermon's catchphrase "Moumentai." This is a Cantonese saying that means just as Terriermon said it did in Tamers ("No problem"). It is funny, though, how its Mandarin version, 没问题 (pronounced "mei wenti"), literally reads "No question". I guess the implicit meaning of "no problem" and "no worries" comes from the subtle implications behind inquisitive remarks.

Now that I mention it, the Li family (Janyu, Xiaochun, and Jianliang) are actually the Wongs from the English dubs of Tamers. Of course, as I prefer to stay true to the original... :D

[6] For your reference, here's the "piece of advice" Shuu was giving Chris (which mostly flew in and out of his ears):

"Don't give me that crap. I can tell from your actions and the way you spaced out just now that you're feeling guilty about this. Really guilty. Now, I have no idea what you went through or what your mission is, but as far as I can see, you need to reconsider. I mean, like me, you're a full-grown adult, yet you aren't mature enough for this sort of decision! I know exactly how you feel, Christopher, but since you obviously can't handle it, you're better off following them and reconciling with Veemon."

[7] Responses to reviews will be placed here if this chapter receives any. Truncated of course.

Coop97: I'm hoping it's either your exhaustion, or the fact my chapters are long. When I read it word by word, I don't really feel the confusion, but then again, that may be because I am the author. I simply wanted to emulate my favorite writers on this site (they're the ones who wrote the high-quality stories in my favorites) and one of their techniques was by inducing flashbacks without the need to resort to italicization or other significant signs depicting otherwise, as if it was blended into the narrative...

Skipping paragraphs and sentences happen to me too, whenever I'm reading the long but well-written fiction posted here on occasion. I don't complain though. All I do is reread it a few days later and try again at getting a better grasp at what happened. It's a written story after all. No need to rush through the entire thing.

RazenX: You forgot to add "determined" to Chris's ruthlessness XD Well, the next chapter will be dwelling into the "tortured psyche" of the two for one last time before we officially enter the DSI Infiltration mission, and you know I've been planning it. Funny how I have time to do this... lol.

Indeed, Kurata is the perfect villain for the story. But so is Yamaki! XD Simon is there, yes. He'll be a villain in the story, but he won't be controlling Gurren Lagann. C'mon, that's overkill. I don't do cameos like that. :P