Honesty is always the best policy, and, if we're being honest, espionage was totally on Takuya's to-do list. He'd seen it on TV, read it in mangas and the like, even done a little in the Digital World if you were liberal with the definition. The thought of being a spy, breaking in and stealing confidential information without leaving a trace, it was just so epic. When he did it in his fantasies it was epic. When he saw it in a movie it was epic. So why was it that when he finally got a chance to do some espionage in the real world it was so… not epic.
The apartment complex Dorian had chosen to squat in was absurdly easy to get into. Probably why Dorian had picked it to begin with. But being able to simply duck under some red tape and slip through a cracked door just took all the fun out of this "finding out what Dorian was hiding" business. And there was precious little fun involved to begin with. He had to take advantage of it as it came. Izumi seemed less concerned with things like fun and spy-work. She'd changed out of her horrible brown uniform before they'd met up and was now sporting a pair of purple bell-bottoms and a loose top. Discrete was clearly not one of her objectives and she made quite the contrast to Takuya in his black jacket and pants. Of the two, though, she was definitely more anxious.
When he'd first picked her up from school with a punctuality that suggested he might've skipped out on his classmates a little early, she'd been all smiles. They'd chatted idly on the train about this and that, simple things, things normal couples chatted about. Takuya and Izumi had never had a problem with communication or finding topics for conversation in the Digital World, and not much had changed during the five years that followed. But when they pulled into the station their minds had turned to the task at hand, and silence fell. An understanding had already been reached and neither had any more words to express what they were feeling. Now there was only anticipation… and fear for what came after. Find something and be forced to deal with Dorian's treachery. Find nothing and face their own uselessness. Neither was particularly appealing.
"So," Takuya said when they finally reached Dorian's apartment, pausing to scratch his head. Izumi, who was already reaching for the door handle, hesitated, her jade eyes flicking to him uncertainly. "You sure you wanna do this?"
"Yeah," she nodded, swallowing. It was conspiratorial, the two of them breaking in and going through Dorian's things. And that would be fine, except neither of them had thought to call Koji and let him and his brother in on it (Koichi didn't carry a cell phone). Of course, they planned to share whatever they found, but still, it didn't feel right. Nothing felt right anymore. Izumi's face hardened and she gave a sharp nod. "Yeah, I'm sure. There's something in here and we need to know what it is. We can't help Koichi if Dorian's holding all the cards."
"Okay then." Takuya slipped his hand under Izumi's and grasped the doorknob so her fingers were resting on his knuckles. Then he gave it a sharp twist and pushed it open. "No lock," he said, surprised.
Izumi made a sound that was both disinterested and confused, brushing by Takuya and entering. The windows had no blinds, so light streamed in unhindered, glinting off the solar panels in the window and making what felt like a foreboding place seem innocently bright. Dorian had taken out the trash and made his bed since they'd visited and, though there was no explicit evidence, Izumi got the impression that he hadn't been there in a while. The air was stale and heavy, like the air deep in a cave or an old temple. It made the skin on the back of her neck prickle, heightening her sense of intuition. Something was here.
"Hey." Takuya's voice made her jump, which in turn made him laugh sheepishly. He followed her into the room and gestured vaguely at a corner off to her right. Back in the shadows where none of them had thought to look the last time they were there. Izumi followed his gaze, her brow wrinkling. She'd assumed it was a bathroom, but upon further investigation that was clearly to the left; the door was open and light from another window shining on the white sink basin, reflecting in the mirror. "Is that a room?"
"Lets go see," she said, forcing optimism into her voice. The purpose of this optimism was ambiguous, but she felt it was important to remain positive. In six steps she'd moved around the table and back into the corner, pulling out her cell phone to use the screen as a flashlight. The cell charm made a jingling noise as she held it up, illuminating what lay beyond the threshold. "Takuya," she called, uncertainty making her voice higher. "Come look at this."
Whatever kind of sick, frigid ball of fear that had been lodged in Takuya's throat for the past week suddenly dropped into his stomach. Before Izumi had a chance to check over her shoulder he was by her side, his own phone adding to the light in the room. Because it was, indeed, a room. The door had been left open and the darkness inside was oppressive. So much so that the feeble light from the threshold could barely pierce it, making what was hollow look like little more than a wall without closer inspection. Well, they were looking now, and incriminating didn't even begin to describe what they saw.
The ceiling was made of wires and cables, some insulated with black and red rubber, others bundles of clear fiber optics that seemed to glow in the pale light. Following the wires led to a shelf at the back of the room, loaded with black boxes and electrical boards arranged almost haphazardly in the tangled net of copper. There must've been a hole or something in the bottom because a single bundle of chords descended from the chaos. About halfway down its length it split into two, one went to what looked like a multiple device charging station on a table to the left. The other frayed into hundreds of tiny strands, each descending to a unique electrode on what was they could only guess was a brain-computer helmet thing. Beside it was a chair, an arched neck rest flowing into an ergonomically sound back support. There was rather a lot of padding. Too much padding… The armrests had wrist straps like those one might see at a psychiatric facility and there was another hanging off to the side that was clearly meant to restrain the chest. A third was settled in the seat around where the occupant's lap would be; thus, whoever had the misfortune of sitting in this chair would be completely immobilized.
Something glistened in the headpiece and down the spine. Recovering from the initial shock of their discovery, Izumi moved forward to investigate. Takuya, less certain that he really wanted to know what they were dealing with, trailed her reluctantly. As she got closer, the light of her phone caught the material, shining through it and reflecting off it at the same time like plastic. Wordlessly, she transferred the cell to her non-dominant hand and reached out with one finger, suspiciously pressing against the coating. It gave way beneath her touch, allowing her to reach all the way to the much harder chair back. She started, pulling back, then found herself even more surprised. The material released her without leaving any residue, returning to its original shape without fuss. Like some kind of gel pack. Biting her lip, Izumi fidgeted for a moment, then decided that she needed to repeat the maneuver on the helmet. This time the gel was less compliant. The second her skin brushed its surface it gave her a gentle shock, no more painful than one caused by static but surprising nevertheless. Izumi yelped, pulling her hand to her chest and recoiling. The data boards above the chair flashed, sending a yellow light down to the table and along the ceiling. In unison they watched the light go to the door, then, in unison, their eyes settled on a figure in that door, hearts stopping.
"Find what you were expecting," Dorian's voice asked casually. His face was in shadow, but his outline was very visible and it didn't seem to hold any tension.
"What the hell is this," Takuya demanded, anger overriding any sense of shame or fear he might've been experiencing as he advanced on the foreign Digidestined, pointing back at the chair.
"This," he gestured vaguely to the back of the room, entirely unconcerned. "Is exactly what it looks like."