3. Power Play

"Ladies, Gentlemen, I…eh, who the hell am I kidding? I aint cut out for this line of work. I'm no good at making speeches, none of us are. Etemon was one-of-a-kind, irreplaceable, and I don't pretend to continue his legacy. This, though, I can promise you…though Etemon's reign brought peace and prosperity to the Digital World, it brought other, darker things…a taint few recognized, and even fewer attempted to combat. I speak, of course, of Datamon…you heard me. Datamon. How dare he call himself one of us? Friends, this humanization programme of his has gone on too long. Are we men? Or are we Digimon? Over the next few years, I plan to do away with his ridiculous caste system and gradually dismantle the infrastructure he has put into place. As for the Director himself, I have ordered him arrested. His experimentation will be discontinued, and his laboratory sealed from the inside. His clones will be decommissioned, and his department disbanded. It may seem drastic, and it is with a heavy heart that I treat an old comrade thus, but this is not a time for lenience. Datamon had since betrayed us, and decisiveness is called for. Also, many Gazimon loyal to the Director will be disciplined for their role in his schemes. However, my reign will not herald only destruction and despair-I will reward my friends, who have stood by me these past years. To Kokatorimon, who played such a valiant role in apprehending the Director, I cede one tenth of my kingdom, to develop as he sees fit. To the Gazimon known as Spencer, who informed Kokatorimon as to the Director's whereabouts, a captainship in the Social Services force. To Digitamamon, my sincere gratitude for writing this speech-what, you think I could have done it myself?" A polite laugh from the crowd. In the back row of the concert hall, Digitamamon smirked. Despite his hoarse voice and gruff tone, Demidevimon was a skilled orator, and was delivering his speech famously. With any luck, the crowd would eat it up. If Demidevimon was pleased with Digitamamon's literary talents, he might even offer him a post at the palace. Perhaps even Datamon's position. The speech was perfect, if he did say so himself. All promises and ideals, no discussion of Demidevimon's true agenda, or the circumstances of his ascension. No mention, of course, of the dark network.

"That's rich, isn't it?" A cloaked Digimon beside him remarked, slightly louder than was necessary. "Shift all the blame to Datamon." His companion, likewise attired, elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

"Keep it down. Don't want to attract attention." He hissed. Digitamamon half-turned, watching the pair out of the corner of his eye. There was something familiar about them, a certain quality to the voices…of course, they had visited his bar a few days prior, who had toasted the Digidestined. And there was that Tentomon, seated a row in front. The pair began to converse in hushed tones, occasionally glancing up to make sure they were not observed.

"We act now, or not at all." The shorter one whispered, gesturing ambiguously with his left hand.

"Couldn't we discuss this later?" His taller companion objected.

"All eyes are on Demidevimon. There's no better time. If we keep our voices down, there's no risk of being overheard. Now, listen…if what he says is true, and Datamon has been arrested, then his lab will be vacated. And if the clones have been decommissioned, then we should be able to rescue Gomamon and Biyomon…unless…"

"Unless, what?"

"Something just occurred to me. I'm sure Demidevimon wouldn't willingly relinquish the power of two champion Digimon, no matter what he says. That must mean he's unable to utilize that power, ergo, only Datamon is capable of controlling them, or his control is waning somehow."

"The implication being?"

"If Demidevimon can't control our Digimon, they're a liability to him. He'll dispose of them at the first chance."

"Terrific. Well, all the more reason to hurry, I guess…" At that moment, the crowd began to clap in response to some statement Demidevimon had made, and their words were drowned out. By the time the applause had faded, the two had finished speaking, gazing innocently in opposite directions. Digitamamon scowled. Where there was plotting, there was always profit, and where there was profit…he would not be denied it.

There was a sharp report from nearby, the rapping of knuckles on the wooden door. Izzy sat bolt upright, hand straying to the pistol. Years of fugitive life had conditioned his reflexes; anything remotely unusual was cause for alarm. The knock came again, more insistent. Professional, not social. "Who's there?" He demanded, deepening his voice several octaves.

"S.S. Open up." It was a Gazimon, voice rough and businesslike. Izzy's heart stopped, his breathing shallow, vision swimming. It was a nightmare, it had to be. At last, the statement he had been dreading for ten years.. Wordlessly, he tossed the pistol to Joe. A look of infinite understanding passed between them. Tentomon hovered to the door, lurking stealthily to one side. Without further delay, Izzy reached out and pulled it open.

The officer was green, a newcomer to the force. He had about him none of the technocracy's calculating coldness, or the typical lean, hungry look of an S.S officer. Some forgotten accident had shattered his left ear, leaving it swinging freely at his side.

"We need to talk." He announced, more personably. "Let me in." It was a request, not a demand, though there was force in it.

"And you would be…?" Izzy prompted, still unwilling to open the door more than a crack.

"Spencer."

"I recall…you were promoted for betraying Datamon, were you not?"

"Betrayal is such an ugly word…but yes. I did what had to be done, and have no regrets. Can I enter?" Reluctantly, Izzy let the door swing, stepping back. Spencer shuffled in, taking in the scattered chairs, Joe with the pistol and Tentomon, tensed to attack. "No need for that." He noted. "If I wanted you dead, you would be so already. I know who you are. I say the word, and the entire S.S descends on this apartment. So you listen." He seated himself, brooding. "Got a cigarette?" Izzy produced one, and another for himself. Not bothering to light the rod, Spencer chewed on it reflectively, collecting himself.

"We're listening." Tentomon buzzed, circling the Gazimon.

"Good. First off, it's true. The moment Demidevimon took power, he had Datamon arrested…"

"What in the name of the compound pantheon is this all about?" Datamon demanded, as the S.S agents filed into his laboratory.

"Lord Demidevimon's command." The patrol leader explained, almost apologetically.

"Am I to understand lord Etemon had passed? And that I was unaware of this? And that his imbecilic flunky is now Emperor of File and Server?"

"'Fraid so, Herr Director. He's acting on one of Etemon's decrees. And I quote, 'If that no-good, lousy, thieving bastard Datamon ever shows his face in my kingdom again, I want him thrown in chains and sealed in a lead box until the end of time, or longer!' That's how it is." He shrugged dismissively, gesturing to his team. "Fan out, boys. Seal the exits. We'll finish the job tomorrow."

"What is the meaning of this? Out, all of you…this is a sterile scientific environment, and I cannot risk…no, stay away from that!" He swatted a few Gazimon away from a menacing-looking bank of electronics. "I am conducting some very delicate experiments, here! They cannot…"

"Sorry, Herr Director, you're coming with us, one way or another. Now, are you coming willingly, or do we employ force?" The patrol leader questioned, rapping his nightstick against one hand.

"How dare you? You would threaten me, in my own sanctum? I will crush you! Data-…" Before he could shout his attack, several nightsticks came down across his cranium, bashing him to the floor. In a single, fluid motion, the patrol leader removed a quarter-inch of black plastic from his vest, jamming it into Datamon's left eye. The Ultimate Digimon convulsed, and was still.

"…And no one's set foot in his sanctum since." Spencer finished. "Kokatorimon's lieutenant, Rothstein, was charged with apprehending him, and sealing off his lab. However, Rothstein is an infamous procrastinator, and will likely not begin the job for some time. We have to get in there."

"We? And what interest would you have in this venture, pray tell?" Izzy demanded, arms crossed.

"First off, it's dangerous to leave a laboratory untended for any period of time. I tried to convince Rothstein to investigate, but he reasoned that no one but Datamon could make any sense of the place. Chances are, he was developing some kind of explosive that'll blow the whole palace to hell if someone doesn't diffuse it. Someone had to make sure, tie up any loose ends, right? Also…" Izzy, Tentomon and Joe looked on expectantly, Spencer grimaced. "How long can a human survive without sustenance?" He asked suddenly.

"Three days without water, over a week without food." Izzy recited automatically. "Umm…why?"

"Her." Spencer's mouth went dry. "Datamon…he kept live specimens, studied them, treated them like machines. One of them…was human, I think. We read about her at the academy…Sora Takenouchi." Izzy's eyebrows shot up; Joe's face was lit with hope.

"How long do we have?" Izzy pressed, suddenly urgent.

"I remember feeding her on the day of Datamon's arrest. I had just made the call…to Rothstein, I mean. That means…that was two days ago, or so. We have twenty-four hours, less, if we don't want her to sustain permanent damage. It might be too late already."

"And just what would you want with her?" Joe queried, eyeing him suspiciously. Spencer the Gazimon sighed, knowing that he was betraying his life's doctrine, going against everything he had ever believed in.

"I used to worship Datamon, following him everywhere, imitating him exactly. I thought I was happy. I thought that was what I wanted to do with my life. But, now, I realize…I always hated him. Hated him, and everything he stood for…Datamon was, is, everything cruel and ugly in this world. He's…he's…evil. I didn't used to think evil existed, really, that it was just an abstract concept, a matter of perspective. But no matter what you believe…even Etemon had some redeeming qualities, difficult as it may be for you to believe. Kokatorimon's only fault is gluttony. Demidevimon, at least, cares for himself. But Datamon…he doesn't believe in anything, cares for no one. He extinguishes life on a whim, toys with reality like some kind of a game…no, not a game. A game, at least, is played for amusement. Who knows why Datamon acts? He consumes, devours, dissects, working feverishly, and to what end? He's twisted, truly, utterly twisted, and I hate him. He's a monster…a word I never thought had any meaning, a word used by foes to apply to one and other…he's a real monster."

"We get the point." Tentomon broke in. "Datamon's evil. But now he is, as humans say, behind bars."

"It isn't enough." Spencer insisted. "They won't hold him for long. Once we've cleaned out his lab, we'll have to go after him. He has to be destroyed, once and for all. I don't care what, he has to be stopped."

"Then why have you come to us?" Izzy now spoke, pacing frantically.

"I've tried to find help among my own people. They won't listen. Even now, I suspect Datamon has allies among the technocracy. There are others like him, Gazimon, other monsters. And besides…I thought…you'd want her back. She showed me something, something genuine, real…something that, if I could show Datamon, it would blow his hard-wired little mind."

"And what do you expect us to do?"

"I can't get you into the palace, I don't have the authority, but I can show you the next quickest way. Datamon's sanctum in approximately three thousand feet below ground, but could easily be reached by tunneling from a specific location. You could dig into an elevator shaft and take it the rest of the way, assuming your Digimon can carry the both of you. I can show you where to dig, but I can't to anything about the dark network…I assume you can handle that yourselves. Once you're inside, you may have to take out a few doors, but that should be no trouble for a champion Digimon." Spencer guessed. Tentomon beamed proudly.

"And you're not afraid? You don't worry your role in this might be discovered?"

"What do I have to lose? I'm a dead 'mon already. Have been ever since I crossed Datamon."

And, surprisingly enough, it all went off without a hitch. Izzy's timing was impeccable, Tentomon, as Kabuterimon, swooped down and obliterated a section of the dark network between sensor readings. Immediately, he began to dig, tunneling several feet per second. He wasn't built for it, but within an hour or so, they were into the shaft, as Spencer had predicted. From there, it was only a few moments' flight to the base, where magnetically sealed double doors blocked the path to the laboratory. Kabuterimon de-volved to Tentomon, voided the lock, and they were in. As they walked down a whitewashed, clinical corridor, Izzy reflected with disbelief on how simple it had all been. The place was deserted, security was nonexistent. "Super shocker!" Another door slid open with a faint whine of protest. And there, in all its sterile, scientific glory, was Datamon's laboratory. It was a small, circular room, a few generic clumps of electronics here and there, a few distillation setups and vials of mysterious liquid organized meticulously on countertops and shelves.

"We're here. We're really here." Izzy muttered, stepping cautiously inside. There was nothing of note in the room, save a circular patch of wires near the center. He inspected it; it resembled the hologram projectors Gennai had used to contact them, so long ago. On the far wall was a sealed door, similar to the one they had entered through.

"Izzy, take a look at this!" Tentomon called, hovering by a shelving unit. The man rushed over, only to observe…books, stack upon stack of faded hardcover novels, human design, and furthermore, titles he recognized.

"Well, he has all the classics here." Izzy remarked, rifling through the collection. "From Lord Jim to Lord of the Flies." Across the room, Joe was searching through a different sort of collection-records, ancient vinyl tablets, stacked beside an antique record player.

"The collected works of Elvis Presley." He read. "You don't suppose…"

"That Datamon was responsible for Etemon's creation? It's entirely possible. In fact…" Izzy took a seat, deep in thought. "Datamon couldn't lead. He didn't have the temperament. But he liked power…of course. He needed a pawn, a showy, loud, conceited pawn who would detract attention from his own activities…"

"A lock of Elvis's hair…wonder how he got a hold of that…" Joe had expanded his search to include nearby shelves, and had quickly amassed a sizeable stack of Elvis-related memorabilia.

"That hair…if he managed to acquire a genetic sample like that, then he could…"

"Clone Elvis?" They both exclaimed simultaneously. Shaking his head bemusedly, Izzy stood.

"This is just too bizarre. I say we get out of here. I…I just don't like this place, there's something not quite natural about it. Too clean, too ordered." They both turned toward the other door, which Tentomon speedily deactivated.

"I'll go in ahead." Joe offered.

"Sounds logical." Izzy said, taking one last look around the lab.

The chamber ahead was completely dark, Joe stopped dead, refusing to go a step further into the unknown. Izzy's hand ran along the wall and, to his surprise, encountered a lightswitch. "Joe, there's a lightswitch on the wall. In about three seconds, I am going to activate said lightswitch and most likely illuminate this area. Now, given our location, what you see at that point may make you want to scream, flail or run from here as fast as your legs can carry you. Please refrain from doing so." And the next moment, two fluorescent bulbs on the ceiling flickered to life. The spectacle was, in fact, fairly horrifying and both were strongly inclined to scream. Perhaps three feet away, staring blankly back at them, was a familiar face. A boyish face, still flushed as though he had recently come from soccer practice, a massive swathe of chestnut hair sprouting from his scalp, a pair of goggles perched on his brow. A bead of sweat still hung on his forehead, his mouth was open in a partial smile. Still, his expression was vacant, no life in his eyes.

"Tai…" Joe rasped, reaching towards the boy. His fingers encountered a pane of glass.

"Has he been…stuffed?" Izzy gaped, horrified.

"No…look." Joe swept his hand across the room. To either side, in identical display cases, were similar replicas of T.K and himself as children. "You know what…I'll bet it's an extension of his cloning technology. This is only another duplicate. Look, there's a plague." He knelt, reading the small display card at Tai's feet. "Taichi Kamiya, Homo Sapien. Twelve years of age. Exemplary physical specimen. Note: This is not the actual cadaver of said specimen, only a digital replica based on his genetic structure. See?" Izzy, meanwhile, was wandering throughout the room. The floor was green marble, the ceiling white plaster. It looked, for all the world, like a room out of a human museum-which, in a way, it was.

"Datamon's Museum of Extinct Peoples." Izzy intoned, gazing at a massive bronze plaque on the left wall. "This is surely the product of a twisted mind." Seven display cases stood near the door, four of them housing models of Tai, Joe, T.K and an older, tired-looking Sora. The other three, those corresponding to Izzy, Matt and Mimi, were empty. Behind that, another eight cases housed the appropriate crests. Here, four were absent from the display, Knowledge, Friendship, Sincerity and Hope. The rest of the room was empty; clearly, Datamon was planning to expand his collection. "He wasn't trying to imitate us." Izzy realized. "He planned to assimilate us. Absorb the best aspects of our culture into his own. Then destroy us. And countless other races. Was this his agenda?"

"Tai's still alive." Joe repeated to himself. "That isn't him, just a replica. There's still a chance."

"Are these the actual crests?" Izzy called, indicating the second row of cases.

"According to the plaques, yeah." Joe answered, glancing over them. Raising the barrel of the pistol, he brought it down on the first display, releasing the crest of courage. He winced as the case broke, a fragment grazing his wrist. Behind him, a dull thud echoed the sound of shattering glass. Turning, he realized with that not all of the displays were merely replicas. Galvanized by the noise, Sora Takenouchi was pounding feebly on her glass prison, gazing pleadingly out at him. It took him a moment to recover from the initial shock. "Sora! I-…" Gesturing for her to duck, he aimed, squeezed his eyes shut and fired the pistol point blank into the glass. The case shattered, Sora spilling like so much liquid. Joe dived to catch her, alarmed at how easily she slipped through his arms. "It's all right…it's all right…" He muttered over and over, kneeling among the glass shards and holding her crumpled form.