If you recognise it, it's not mine. If you don't recognise it, it's still probably not mine. Use your own judgement. ~.^
Miyako stretched out, sighing happily. "It's nice to know that we can come to the DigiWorld just to relax sometimes!" she exclaimed, grinning over at her best friend.
Hikari grinned back. "Yeah, I know what you mean. It's not all fighting and running; there's some good things involved, too."
"Yeah, like no crowds! Glad I thought of coming down here!" Daisuke boasted.
Takeru frowned at him. "You didn't think of it, Ken did!"
Iori -- stuck as peacemaker, per usual; the two girl were giggling to hard to be of any help and Ken, also seemingly amused, was making no move to help -- came between the two boys. "Look, does it really matter who thought of it? It was a really good idea to come to the DigiWorld to swim, and it would be dumb to ruin it by fighting."
At that instant, the Digimon came running over. "Iori, come look! I found somethin' weird while I was diggin'," Armadillomon urged, looking unusually solemn.
Moments later, the DigiDestined were clustered around what looked like a large skeleton, set in a slab of rock. It was undoubtedly strange, looking like a cross between a dinosaur and a human. The large, horrid talons it had instead of hands and feet were obviously designed for killing.
"How lovely," Takeru muttered finally, breaking the horrified silence. "Looks like some mad scientist was trying to gene-splice the perfect living weapon."
"Looks like he succeeded," Iori added darkly.
"So, what kind of Digimon is it?" Miyako asked. The others turned to see who she was talking to; she was speaking directly into her open D-Terminal. Koushiro answered from the "real" world:
"I have no idea. It's not in any of the records Gennai gave me. It doesn't sound like any normal, everyday Digimon. I think that, maybe..." he trailed off, obviously reluctant to finish the thought."
"You think that, maybe, what?" Daisuke, patience not being one of his stronger virtues, was almost yelling.
There was another moment of hesitant silence. "You're probably going to think I'm crazy," Koushiro finally replied, speaking slowly. "But I think that, maybe, this... thing wasn't a Digimon at all."
After yet another moment's silence, Daisuke laughed a little. "Well, whatever it was, it's definately long dead -- and good riddance!"
Everyone relaxed, and Miyako broke the connection with Koushiro -- but only after letting him hear her teasing reply of, "Ooh, 'riddance' -- I didn't know you knew that word, Daisuke," and the laughter that followed.
Of course -- that thing had been dead for a long time. It was extinct. Gone.
Forever.
A ways off, a strange Digimon -- and it was definately a Digimon now, even if it hadn't been before -- prowled the forest. A rustling sound caught its attention, and it smelled the hormones pumping off of the creature. The creature it smelled was afraid.
Good.
It broke into a strange, strangely fast sloping run, and was soon out of sight.
A moment later there was a wet crunching noise, a sudden unearthly scream -- and silence.
"Could someone please remind me why we're here?"
D'Agosta and Pendergast ignored the complaining journalist. Margo looked to first one, then the other for help, then sighed and turned to Smithback. "For the fifth time, it was just something normal to do -- for old times sake. If you really want to make conversation, couldn't you say something other than that same question over and over again?"
Smithback grinned cheekily. "Nope. But seriously, Lotus Blossom, couldn't you have picked a more... interesting get-together spot? Nobody here's doing anything."
Two things happened at the same time.
First off, D'Agosta grumbled, "Stop complaining, Smithback." Second, Margo took one casual look around the room -- and yelped in surprise.
The other three turned to look at her. They were the only ones who did.
"What's wrong, Margo?" Pendergast asked, slightly concerned.
Margo was shaking, all of the blood drained from her face. "Smithback's right," she managed, wide-eyed.
D'Agosta rolled his eyes. "Yeah, it's the end of the world. Geez, don't scare us like that--"
"Haven't you noticed that nobody's BREATHING??"
The three men winced. Margo didn't usually yell. Smithback even stepped back slightly, bumping into a young lady. "Sorry," he apologised, then did a double take. The lady didn't accept the apology, or turn around and cuss him out -- two major possibilites in NYC. She simply... toppled over. Like a mannequin.
There was a short silence.
"Nobody's breathing," Smithback agreed after a moment, looking around nervously. "Nobody's breathing, and they're frozen like statues or something. This is definately not a good thing."
Pendergast watched, an unreadable look on his face, as D'Agosta gently poked a teenage boy in the back. The kid fell over, knocking a few other people down, domino-style. "Not only have the people been put in some kind of suspended animation," the FBI agent pointed out, "but can anyone hear the sound of traffic?"
"No." Smithback shook his head doubtfully. "But what does that have to do with... anything..." he glanced out the window. Outside, everything was perfectly still. "Oh. Oh, shit."
"Jesus H. Christ," D'Agosta muttered. "What the fuck is going on, here?"
Margo looked like she was about to hyperventalate from panic. "Like I'd know??" she exclaimed. "Everyone's frozen!"
"Except us," Smithback offered, unhelpfully obvious.
Pendergast nodded. "And I have a feeling we're not going to like the reason why."
D'Agosta opened his mouth to offer his two cents, but he was interrupted by a loud screeching noise. The sound of dimensions unhinging at the seams.
There was a bright flash of light and heat. And the people unfroze, beginning to go about their everyday activities. Several people had to pick themselves up off the floor, wondering how they'd gotten there in the first place, and eventually coming to the conclusion that some people in the crowd had shoved them. There was much muttering and glaring.
Only four people didn't breathe, or move, or anything.
Because those four people were gone.