::Ch. 2—A Boy and His Worm:: Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon. I do own Trikmon©, and the concept of this story. I do love feedback. *hint, hint*

The Meek Shall Inherit the Earth

Chapter 2: A Boy and His Worm

The sun was causing a glare on the TV, but the occupant of the room didn't get up to close the blinds. Instead, Ken Ichijouji closed his eyes, content at just listening to the news at noon. He spent most of his time in his bedroom now, studying for school and other special programs his parents had enrolled him in.

Friends were few and far between, but he didn't really mind it. Friends were completely unnecessary for someone as mentally evolved as him.

"Ken-chan?"

Well, almost completely.

Without opening his ice blue eyes, Ken lifted his hand, and was rewarded by something soft rubbing up against it.

"Ssshhh, Wormmon," he whispered. "Let's listen, hm?"

The timid digimon said nothing, but huddled down and did as his master said. The reporter for the local news was going on about the heat wave. Trivial news, and Ken really wasn't interested in it. But, it was better than sitting and listening to his parents list colleges they thought would be good for him.

College! Granted, he had skipped a few years in school, but he still had some time to go before the Ivy Leagues came calling. His parents meant well, he was sure. He had learned a while ago that they weren't as pointless and useless as he had initially thought. They cared. They just pushed a little too much in the academics part of his life.

Not that Ken was unable to handle the pressure. Being a boy genius had its advantages. He smirked. It didn't much matter that he was no longer the Digimon Kaiser. He could still have anything he wanted. His grades were so impeccable, he could get into any college he desired when the time came. Getting a high paying, cushy job wouldn't be hard at all. And charm... oh, Ken Ichijouji had all the charm a young man could be allotted.

Grinning, Ken went from listening to his television, to his parents down the hall. Something about a math course they thought he should take. He sighed, inwardly. They really needed to let up on him. Just how many of him did they think there were?

The room darkened, suddenly, and Ken's eyes snapped open. Curious and wary, he sat up on his bed and went to the window.

Wormmon followed, his head tilted. "What is it, Ken-chan?"

The dark haired boy looked at the black sky, and frowned. The clouds were so thick, not an inch of sky peered through. The street lamps had actually gone off to compensate, and were now lighting the dark street. Ken shook his head. Too thick, too dark, too fast... "I don't know. But it's wrong." He turned to his digimon. "I think we need to leave."

Scooping up Wormmon, Ken walked to his door, still hearing his parents prattle, this time about the strange weather.

And then the electricity blew.

Ken was drenched in darkness, and his hand flailed a bit, trying to find the doorknob. With little luck, he tried to wait for his eyes to adjust, but it wasn't working. There wasn't any light at all for them to adjust to.

"Can you see?" he asked.

"Not anything," was Wormmon's soft, scared reply.

Frowning even more, Ken called out, "Mother! Father, can you bring a flashlight?"

There was no answer.

"Father?" Ken struggled to find the doorknob once more, this time with success. Opening the door, he carefully walked down the hall, making sure not to crash into anything. "Mother? Father? Where are you?"

"Maybe Ken-chan's parents went downstairs for flashlights?" Wormmon offered.

"We keep the flashlights in the kitchen," Ken replied, shortly. "Where could they be?"

The electricity came back on, the street lamps shining light through the windows of the otherwise dark house. Ken's eyes adjusted quickly, and he reached for the closest lamp. An eerie voice, akin to breaking glass, made Ken's hand freeze midway.

There once was a boy
with a heart of stone.
Who wished one day
he was all alone...

"Don't panic, little Kaiser," someone whispered in Ken's ear. "You've gotten your wish."

The boy spun around, and ice blue eyes met bleached ones. "Who are you?" Ken managed to utter out past his choking and understandable fear.

The creature smiled, revealing two rows of pearly fangs. "Why, I'm you, Ken."

"Hn?" The dark haired boy's brows raised. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm you," the thing repeated, amused. "Well, a part of you." It straightened to its full height, towering over the other two occupants of the room. "You didn't actually think that all the havoc you caused in the Digital World wouldn't result into something? You disrupted the balance, boy. And when you did so," the creature tilted his head, as if sizing the boy up, "you created me. I suppose I should call you... " its smile widened, "Father."

Ken shuddered. He felt Wormmon stiffen in response, and his free hand went to hold the digimon in place. "Why should I believe you? All the Blacks Rings were destroyed." He was surprised at how level his voice sounded.

"Yes, your precious Black Rings," the creature nodded. "You put a little of your own energy in each one, you realize. It's your energy that helps your digimon digivolve," it looked disgustedly at Wormmon. "And it was your energy in the destroyed Black Rings that brought them back together. Your will, your need to win and destroy your enemies that brought them to combine. To merge. They became a blob of near nothingness. Barely alive, but still enough to do what was necessary.
"They fed," the thing explained. "On small virus digimon at first. Then bigger things. And when they had eaten enough, when they became strong enough, they," it smiled, "became me."

Ken's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?" he repeated.

The creature backed away, slowly, as if politely giving the boy some personal space. He spoke the word, like nails on a chalkboard, like crinkling tinfoil, "Trikmon." It reached it hand out, almost fondly. "Father."

Ken jolted back, away from the long fingers of the thing that smiled in front of him. "What do you want? I'm not going to join you."

"Join me?" Trikmon repeated, chuckling. "Oh, I think you've mistaken my intentions, Father. There's an old saying; a son can follow in the greatness of his father, and become a good man. But only when the son surpasses his father can his find true greatness himself.
"I've come to surpass you, Father," he raised a menacing hand. "I've come to kill you."

Wormmon bristled on Ken's arm, and before the boy could stop him, he leapt. "You will not hurt him!"

Ken reached out, trying to grab the digimon. "Wormmon, get back here! Are you insane?!"

Trikmon's reaction was one of amusement. He smirked, and a disgusting, wet sounding laugh bubbled from his mouth. One slack hand snapped up, grabbing the worm digimon out of the air by his head. As the small creature struggled in his grasp, Trikmon's smile faded into a vision of disgust.

"He really is pathetic," he told Ken.

The boy stood, rooted to the floor, afraid the wrong move would result in Wormmon's skull being crushed. "Just put him down," Ken demanded, softly.

"Oh, I will," Trikmon said, quickly. He snarled, adding, "But not until I'm done.
"He wanted to be a hero. Fine," he flicked one of his long, free fingers, and Ken felt himself being slammed in the gut. The boy fell back, his head hitting the coffee table. "Your worthless digimon can act as heroic as he wants. I suppose you were meant to be a part of them, too. I did expect this."

Ken's vision fuzzed over like snow on a TV, his head light and pounding from the knock on the table. He had always had migraines in his life. Stress from too much academics, one foolish doctor had said. As if that was the only source of stress in his life. The migraines used to make him want to knock himself unconscious. This particular bang on the head was pretty damn close to making him want to jab his eyes out.

The headache became that much worse when Wormmon began to scream.

Ken stiffened, trying to clear his mind, trying to clear his vision. It sounded like his digimon was being torn apart. Ken was silently amazed at how terrifying that idea was to him. He had never contemplated being emotionally attached to the clingy worm. Maybe he had gotten too soft. Wormmon's screech heightened, and a stab of fear hit the boy in the chest.

"Wormmon," Ken stumbled to his feet, his eyes slowly clearing. Over his digimon's cries of pain, he heard a sick chortle from Trikmon, as if he were enjoying the show to the utmost.

Wormmon's screams halted, suddenly. Someone gasped, and a breeze wafted through the room. Someone was breathing shallowly, like they were hyperventilating. Ken noticed with a start that it was him. He forced his breath to slow and deepen, as his eyes finally cleared.

Trikmon was gone, and so was Wormmon. Ken fumbled around, his head still spinning. His legs gave out, and he stumbled to the ground. His eyes focused on the carpeted floor for a few moments, while his vertigo subsided. It was still dark in the room, the carpet looking a fuzzy gray instead of blue. He decided to turn on the closest lamp. The street lights were barely doing anything.

When Ken looked away from the carpet to get up, he jolted, coming face to face with a little boy. The child couldn't have been older than eight, naked, unconscious, and green looking, like he was sick. Purple hair was hanging over the boy's face, and Ken brushed it away to get a better look at this strange, new arrival.

What he saw made him sick. There was a marking on the boy's forehead. A marking Ken knew all too well. But, it couldn't be true. This was just some sick trick left by that demented digimon. Some way to twist the proverbial knife counter clockwise into Ken that Wormmon was gone. It had to be. Because, the alternative was...

The boy's bright, true-blue eyes opened. "Ken-chan?" he whispered, raising a trembling green hand, with pink digits. "Are you all right?"

"Oh... God... " Ken stared, slack jawed, his heart and stomach plummeting into his feet. His brain seemed to revolt on him, and all attempts at cohesive thinking failed miserably.

No. No, Ken was most certainly not all right.


"I don't get it!" Izzy growled at his computer. "How can Trikmon completely block off all access to Digiworld? I can't even send anything to Gennai."

"If he's still alive," Joe muttered.

Izzy forced himself not to tremble at the idea. If Gennai could be killed by this new threat, what chance did they have. "He's not dead," he stated. "No one is. As far as I can tell, which isn't much, Trikmon sent everyone he took to the Digital World. He also has some sort of barrier around Odaiba. Like the firewall Gennai sent us, but much more potent. No one can get in, or out.
"Past that, I'm just not sure. We're completely cut off from the outside world," Izzy said, keeping his voice level.

In truth, the young computer genius wanted to scream. His parents were gone, and God only knew if they were still alive in the Digiworld. And, if they were, what condition they were in. Izzy had already lost his biological parents. It was a lost he never really mourned; he was far too young when they died for him to feel any emotional pain. But, he always felt different. Turning to his computer was his way of dealing with his inability to connect to people.

But with his adoptive parents, the Izumis, he had finally been able to deal with his issues. He thought of them as his real parents. They were, they always had been, he just hadn't seen it for a long time. And now, they were gone. If he lost them for good, lost a part of what made him feel like he was indeed part of the human race, Izzy didn't know what he would do. Maybe go insane, maybe cut everyone off completely. Maybe worse.

"They're alive," Sora said, walking into the room. Ah, the mother hen strikes again. It was as if she could just sense when someone needed support. "You'll see. They'll all come back to us safe and sound." She looked around the room, and smiled. "I like what you did to the place, Izzy."

Mimi had told everyone to pick out a room, as long as it wasn't her parents or hers. With her house, which was really far too large to justifiably call it just a "house," everyone managed to find a little place of their own. They couldn't leave, not with what Gennai had said in his e-mail.

Izzy had taken control over a small room in the attic. "I need the quiet," had been the excuse. In actuality, the room offered the best view of the city. Which was a blessing and a curse. Odaiba wasn't getting any brighter outside, and it was just seven in the evening. The summer sun should've just been getting ready to set. Instead, the street lamps illuminated the dark city, making it look almost ominous in its blackness.

Deciding to make the room more efficient for him, Izzy had rolled up the red, fuzzy rug, and shoved it under the bed. He rearranged the furniture so that his lamp and desk were in a position in front of the window, in case of glare. Not that there would be any sun to make the computer screen give off glare. Pictures of Mimi's family were taken down, and carefully put under the bed, along with the rug. Izzy didn't have a problem with the Tachikawas, he just found it highly difficult to work when there was a picture of Mrs. Tachikawa staring right at him. He was pretty sure her eyes followed him around the room.

"Yes, well," Izzy shrugged off the compliment, "it suits my needs better this way."

Sora nodded, her eyes sobering. "Any luck?"

"None," Joe answered for Izzy. "We've been having no luck since this whole thing started."

Sora frowned. Joe was usually the cynical realist of the group, but his attitude this day was downright pessimistic. She didn't like this sudden change in him. "What's wrong, Joe?" she asked, gently.

"What's wrong?" he repeated, indignant. "What isn't wrong? All our families have disappeared. We have no idea what's happened to them. We're completely cut off from everyone outside the city. We're facing an enemy we have no clue about, and we can't get a hold of Gennai to learn anything. God knows if our parents are still alive, God knows if Gennai's still alive. God knows if Jim's... " Joe's trailed for a moment. Then, he got right back on track. "And, to just top off this 'Bad Day Sundae,' our digimon have been turned into humans. Totally human. Do you understand?" he demanded. "They can't fight! They're pointless to us like this."

There was a sharp, pained gasp from the doorway. "Do you really think that, Joe?" Gomamon asked, his white hand holding on to the door handle in a viselike grip. His wide eyes were watery, and his voice was strained. "You think I'm pointless? I'm... worthless?"

Joe paled to a white sheet. "No. No, Gomamon," he took a step forward, a regretful hand outstretched, "let me explain."

But Gomamon wasn't listening. He let go of the door, and ran out with a sob.

"Oh, no. No... dammit!" Joe snapped, pounding his foot into the floor. "Gomamon! Wait up!"

Sora and Izzy watched as the eldest Digidestined chased after his digimon. They looked at each other for a silent moment.

"Should we... ?" Izzy began.

"No," Sora shook her head. "We're all handling this in our own way. Let Joe work things out between himself and Gomamon. We'd only get in the way."

The computer genius nodded, but he couldn't help but feel concerned for his friends.


Ken stared at the green child who sat in front of him. The little boy was picking at the blue T-shirt Ken had given him. Old clothing had been pretty easy to find. Ken's mother was so anal retentive about everything. His father was a pack rat. That combination meant that anything he needed to find was probably in the attic, and it was probably neatly stored in a labeled box.

However, getting Wormmon to feel comfortable in his old clothing was another problem entirely. The now-human digimon kept on pulling at the shirt, and rubbing his fingers against the hem of his shorts.

"They're not comfy," Wormmon complained timidly, looking down at the bed comforter he was sitting on.

"You'll get used to them," Ken snapped. He walked to his TV, and flipped it on. It was still on the local news, but the anchor, Ken noticed with a start, was gone. The camera was slightly askew, and Ken could see the empty crew table. In fact, it looked like everyone was gone.

'Just like my parents,' Ken frowned. How many were missing? Maybe everyone. But, he doubted it. They were still here. It was like he could sense them. All of them, in the same place. He could practically hear them buzzing. Ken wondered if they could feel him. He probably never even crossed their minds.

Ken shook his head. Hear them buzzing? Dear lord. He'd lost his mind.

His ears perked, as heard a wailing sound. This was definitely not in his mind. Someone was crying. He looked at Wormmon, who appeared worried and confused, but the little boy certainly wasn't showing any tears. Besides, the sound was too far away to be in the house. But then who... ?

Ken followed the sound to his bedroom window, and peered out. He couldn't see much outside in the darkness, except for some parked cars and a few houses close by. The street lamps on his block were horrendously dim. He'd need to complain about that to the proper authorities. If they were even around anymore to complain to.

A dark blue car caught Ken's eye. It was in the middle of the road, slightly crossing the yellow line, as if it had gone out of control. Probably did, if the driver was taken away like his parents and the people at the news station were. Ken stared at the car, unable to shake the feeling to take a closer look.

Then it hit him. The sound. It was coming from the car.

"C'mon, Wormmon," Ken ordered, walking out of the room without waiting for his companion.

He made his way outside, and shivered against the unnatural chill. It actually seemed foggier outside than inside. Rubbing his arms to keep warm, Ken stepped cautiously toward the car. The front seat was empty. But Ken squinted, and noticed with some alarm that the back seat wasn't. In a baby seat, was a wailing toddler.

"Dear God... " Ken murmured. This situation just kept going from bad to worse.

He noted that the window was open, due to the summer heat. Well, when it was hot earlier on. Now, with his fingers beginning to shake from cold, Ken reached in, unlocking and opening the door. Leaning in, he unbuckled the young boy, and took him out.

The fact that he had been rescued didn't seem to make the child feel any better. He kept on crying. In fact, he sounded even louder and more upset than before. Ken sighed. How was he going to handle this? He wasn't a baby-sitter!

"Whatcha got there, handsome?" a perky voice asked from behind him.

Shuddering, Ken turned. Speaking of going from bad to worse... "What does it look like, Leilei? It's a baby."

Leilei Kawajari rolled her blue eyes and tilted her blonde head. "Well, duh. What are you doing with him?"

Ken growled. Leilei was a thirteen year old that lived next to him. She was way too happy for his taste, and way too big mouthed for her own good. Sometimes, he wondered how she had managed to evade the Darwinian Theory for so long.

"Actually," Ken smiled, thrusting the child into her hands, "I'm giving him to you. You're a girl. You know more about this than I do."

"Hey!" Leilei exclaimed angry, adjusting the boy to a more comfortable position. "I don't know what to do with kids. Besides, I'm trying to find my parents. They just disappeared when the electricity blew."

"You won't find them," stated Ken, impatiently.

His brain was clicking away at a rapid pace. Parents were gone. But, it was doubtful that all the people at the news station were parents. Adults. Trikmon had taken all the adults. Of course, this problem would arise. Without parents, there were children all over the place too young to take care of themselves.

He didn't know why he cared about that fact. Maybe it was because he knew they would care, if the thought had even struck them yet. Ken doubted it. They never were as quick as he was. They'd probably try to handle it all themselves, which would be utterly ridiculous, of course. There was no way they could handle taking care of God knew how many children. But, then what could possibly be done? How could anyone get the whole city's attention?

The news station was empty.

God, Ken loved being a genius.

"Bring that kid to the Recreational Center," he barked to Leilei, striding back to his house.

"B-but, Ken!" she stuttered. "What am I supposed to do then? Why are you leaving this with me?"

"Cause I have better things to do! And I'm far more important than you, anyway," he added in a murmur. He raised his voice again. "Just go to the Rec. Center. If you meet anyone along the way, tell them the same thing. And turn on the TV when you get there!"

Leilei blinked, confused. "The TV? What station?"

"It won't matter," he shortly answered, shutting the door to his house. Ken's eyes searched the room. "Wormmon! Where are you?"

"Here, Ken-chan," the small, green boy called from the stairway.

Ken spotted him sitting in the middle of the staircase, blue eyes wide with unhidden fear. "What? What's wrong?" he demanded, annoyed.

"I-I can't walk," Wormmon answered, apprehensively.

"What are you talking about?" Ken barked. "You walk all the time!"

"But not on two legs," Wormmon wailed, tears filling his eyes. "It's too hard. Gomen nasai, Ken-chan! G-gomen... " The little boy buried his face in his hands, too humiliated to look up.

Ken stood there, fuming with irritation. This was the last thing he needed! Stupid, useless digimon! Useless in his normal form, and useless in his human form. Worthless, inane, weak...

Wormmon sniffled, trying to force back some of his tears, without much luck. Suddenly, as if possessed, he grabbed onto the railing, and pulled himself up. Ken watched in stunned silence as Wormmon's legs wobbled dangerously beneath him. With a determined expression, the digimon took a tentative step down.

And promptly fell when his legs gave way.

"Wormmon!" Ken sprang forward, catching the boy before he tumbled all the way down the steps.

"I tried," Wormmon uttered, his face scrunched up with self loathing. "I can't. I'm no good for you, Ken-chan."

Ken frowned. He shouldn't have given a damn, but he did. "Don't worry about it," he heard himself saying. "I'll teach you to walk later."

Wormmon looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. "But... "

"C'mon," Ken sighed, picking him up. "I'll carry you."

Setting Wormmon on his back, piggy-back style, Ken Ichijouji made his way out of his house, having no real idea where he'd end up at the end of the day.

Next Chapter: Forgiveness