Separation
Author's Note: Set after Digimon Adventure 02 and prior to Digimon Adventure tri. Based on a dream. Enjoy the story and R&R.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to or of the Digimon series.
Pairing: Established Daisuke x Michael.
Summary:
An online game called Separation pushes Michael Barton and Motomiya Daisuke's buttons.
"The name of the game is Separation. You play as a character on the ground in the fictional neighbourhood of Separation, Seattle, solving puzzles to advance."
"Cool, cool. But why do you need me, Michael?"
"I'm stuck in the ramen cart scenario. The game directions state I'm supposed to gather information on a planned hijacking from the hostess, but you find out she's secretly a mole for a rival agency and the restaurant-sized ramen cart you're travelling on is the meat grinder they send their opposition through."
"Jeesh!"
"Jeesh indeed. Problem is, I can respawn at my previous save point, but every combination of choices I try when you talk to her leads to the same outcome. The hostess stalls me long enough for the blades on the wall to move in behind me."
"It's because you're too nice to say no to a woman, even one you know is playing you! Same goes for talking to women in the Real World, by the way!"
"…I'll take that as a compliment."
Daisuke cracked his knuckles, told Michael to give him a kiss for luck, and took a couple stabs at the level to get a feel for the gamescape and the speed bump Michael referred to. As Michael detailed, no combination of choices seemed to avert the inevitable body shredding. Daisuke still lost over and over.
Michael, not only too nice to women, but to people in general, was too nice to speak up whenever Daisuke attempted a path he himself attempted before.
"Screw this, I'm searching online how to make it past her!"
"Isn't that cheating?"
"The net was invented for shit like this!"
"I remember the internet began as a military weapon, Daisuke. And later…slash fiction."
Daisuke chuckled at that.
"Then the US won't mind me borrowing its weapon to blow this ramen cart off the face of the Earth! Kinda sad. All those wasted noodles."
As soon as Daisuke clicked outside the game, the game froze him out. The hostess' sprite jiggled, as if ridiculing Daisuke over his chutzpah. Her sprite then blurred, morphing into something entirely different.
A Digimon.
"There's your problem, Mike! Game's infected by a Mutant Digimon!"
"What do we do about it?"
"Don't worry! V-mon and I will go into the net and ship it back to where it belongs! Save me a hot dog for when we get back!"
"You sure you don't need help? Betamon and I can –"
"We'll be fine! I'll see if there's any slash fics of us while we're in there!"
"Don't count on it, Daisuke. It'll be like another sixteen years before that happens!"