PAUSE FOR BOURGEOIS LEGALITIES
"Digimon" and all characters and situations contained within are
copyrighted trademarks of Bandai, Saban Entertainment and Upper Deck.
Permission is hereby granted by the author to reproduce this document
unless you try to make money off of it; if so, please contact me first at
Calcite_McWhalen@hotmail.com. I may be a grown-up cartoon fan but I do
know my way around Title 17.
****
Reaction
****
Knock, knock.
Twist, jump, curl, and extend. Just so; an arc in the air, a blur that extends to reveal death. Feet on ground, then off, coming over the rest of the body and forcing the whole body to twist around them until the body reorients itself based on the typical up-down gravitic arrangement. Bring the sabre around, wrist bending to the right, and another unfortunately placed villian loses its head and its life. Keep moving, jump; an arc in the air that the most skilled dancer would envy and be at a loss to repeat. Land on one hand -- ankle slash, bad angle but almost impossible to guard against. Push off with his good hand and bring the thin, toned arm around.
Knock, knock.
The sabre is black. It rests in his right hand and casts all before it in a sinister gleam, glowing slightly to represent its nature. He's already moving, of course, the sabre is through one man and glancing another. His loose hair is forced out of the way by the air flowing around him, while his gauntletted forearms are both, along with the hands, on the sabre and as soon as he rises to the apex of his leap he, with a tingle from the back of his neck, brings it straight down on the last enemy. The sabre's width increases on the way down but it maintains its killing edge; and whatever poor soul is standing in the way has just been given a one-way ticket to the afterlife. He rolls as he lands into a ready stance, then relaxes somewhat - just somewhat. Then reality caught up with the Regent.
"Come in," he said, glancing around the spartan training area to the sliding door. He took a strategically placed water bottle and knocked back half of it while the awaiting individual strode in. The individual said nothing. He merely set up into a ready stance and extended both of his purple arm sabers, waiting for the other to react.
The Regent examined his opponent. Stingmon was an Adult-level digimon with almost nine years' worth of straight combat experience and a goodly amount of power to match. He had been a Wormmon until a fiasco a few years back, then had Digivolved for good at that point. This particular Stingmon possessed a cocky look in his compound eyes. The Regent considered him a worthy opponent. He replaced the water bottle's cap and threw it to one side, raising his still glowing sabre and settling into his personal ready stance, lip curling up into a mixture of smirk and outright smile.
Stingmon also studied his opponent briefly. He wielded a long, black energy sabre with a stance and relaxed look that showed his years in wielding it. His crisp blue eyes surveyed Stingmon with respect. His indigo hair was pulled back into a loose tail, with only a few rebellious strands loose. He wore the blue-lined gray suit of his youth, enlarged for his more developed upper torso, a simple necklace that reached under his shirt, and the gauntlets of his past life. He also wore a ready smirk upon a face with a single blemish: a set of four matched scars on the left side of his face, flowing from his mouth down towards his shoulder.
They stood there for the eternity of a second. Then Stingmon moved.
The Regent was ready; he had been for all of that morning. He jumped directly upwards, over the forward slash of Stingmon, and swung down at Stingmon's back while clearing him. Stingmon, moving on instinct, tucked into a roll that got him out of the swing's range while allowing him to spring back up. The Regent landed as he had jumped and both stopped moving again, their backs to one another. A breath passed; the Regent's smirk grew into a brief smile and then fell before his concentration.
This time, he moved first. He launched himself at Stingmon, who parried his thrust with one saber and struck at the next blink with his other weapon. The Regent simply sidestepped while forcing the blocking saber to one side, striking out at Stingmon's now unprotected side. Stingmon responded by striking back at the Regent with the other blade, bringing it at the Regent's side, and the two energy blades clashed with a loud bang and much sizzle. Stingmon brought the other saber in a stab towards the Regent, but the man had moved already, jumping over Stingmon and swinging his saber down again; this time, the insect had no time to roll and was forced to block with one saber up in the air. The Regent landed and moved his saber forwards, ignoring the off-balanced insect's attempt to stop it, and placed the tip of it on Stingmon's throat.
The insect relaxed, then slumped somewhat. "You aren't getting any worse, are you?" He deactivated both of his energy blades. The Regent lifted the point off of Stingmon's throat and carelessly tossed the glowing weapon in the air. It shimmered briefly and disappeared upon leaving his hand.
"No, I can't say that I am," he responded. "How are things this fine morning, Sting?" A fine morning it was; it was clear and cool, no more than 60 degrees outside. The Regent's favorite time of year. Stingmon produced from a bag he had left at the door a longish list and a pad; he took a pen from behind his left ear, where it had been undisturbed by the spar.
"Eh. I've got the updates, whenever you're ready." The Regent also liked it when his mornings moved right along; he didn't like to waste time on little things when a whole world waited for him. Stingmon sometimes wondered why the Regent bothered to keep up his morning workout and sparring session now that all of the major threats to the Digital World had been destroyed or defused, but he reasoned that the current ruler of the Digital World had earned the right to be mildly paranoid when it came to his world.
The man took another big drink from his bottle, recently reclaimed from the floor, and said, "Go right ahead."
"Ok, here goes," Stingmon said, then proceeded to rattle off a large list of numbers that, upon assuming the command of the Digital World at large, the Regent had asked to be provided with each morning. Population, deaths, births, economic movement, migration timings, factories, everything that could possibly be used for making any kind of decision in the Digital World. Stingmon had no doubts that the Regent, in his areas of expertise, was an absolute genius.
The Regent reacted when Stingmon mentioned Server's factory problems. "Leomon didn't tell me that a Gazimon caused the accident. Is he all right?" Stingmon nodded. "Where's the replacement part coming out of?"
"The Pyramid complex built it."
"Ok. Get it there as fast as we can -- Leomon hates to be kept waiting for more than a day. He can really overreact sometimes."
"We know, sir," Stingmon said grinning. The Regent nodded his head, conceding the point.
"Has Gomamon finished moving the Scubamon and Divermon back to the Seadramon territory? He should have been done by yesterday, but because of the storms he got held up."
"Yes, they've made it safely across Whamon's area." The Regent let out a breath.
"We need to get Whamon to forgive them at some point in time. It's been ten years, right?" Stingmon nodded. "He doesn't need to keep that up -- it'll be bad for everyone concerned. Get one of Angemon's counselors down there as soon as one's available, okay?"
"Got it," Stingmon said, making a note of it as he did so. Angemon was a strong believer in feeling good and he had trained a large group of Wizard-type Digimon to help other Digimon through personal troubles. When he saw the program's success on his home area of File Island, he allowed other Administrators to hire them out, and donated an entire corps of them to the Regent. The Regent, in turn, allowed them to keep their titles as Angemon's Helpers, which hadn't done anything to hurt Angemon's sterling reputation either.
"Once that's done, get Piedmon on the line and tell him that he's got three months to get his Devi-type flyers in the air and trained before the Dramon-types need the airspace for their migration. He'll be happy to hear that."
"You and he always did get along well," Stingmon commented as he took the order down.
"We have a lot in common."
Stingmon let that one pass. "Palmon's almost finished with the last few sections of the Archives, and then she'll be moving on to West Metal City for her population analysis." The Regent nodded once. "Also, we have the usual mix of village problems -- people not getting along, a few bandits, etcetera. We're deploying what Protectors that we need to the areas that are most problematic, and of course the local governors were the ones to request them." The Regent nodded again. Stingmon sighed to himself; the Regent's thought lines were somewhere else. He decided to get to the most important stuff.
"We think that the human's Internet might be getting shut off," Stingmon said softly and that caught the Regent's attention; he spun around surprised and dropped his water bottle. The faint whisper of fear was on his face, despite his impossible self-control, and it was probable that only Stingmon would be able to see it. That was natural. Stingmon was the Regent's personal assistant and Digimon partner, and he knew that despite the great front that the Regent could put up that still under there was the very human Ken Ichijouji. Six years in the Digital world had certainly softened Ken's recollection of his first home but it could never destroy the fondness that Ken had for the Real World.
"When did you find that out?" Ken responded with just a touch of the fear eking out of his emotional armor.
"The others - that is, Datamon had begun to notice the downturn in Internet activity about three months ago, but it was not large enough for him to become concerned. The traffic really only started to drop in the last few days, when most of the servers were taken offline at once -- all of the corporate ones, at any rate. He sent us an e-mail and we -- the different regional directors -- gathered last night to talk about it." Ken couldn't keep the startled expression off of his face, and Stingmon braced himself silently.
"What happened to the e-mail that would have been sent to me?" Ken asked quietly. His tone indicated that he knew precisely what had happened. Stingmon sighed again and looked up.
"Ken, I was trying to protect you from your first reaction." Ken's eyes lit up with a touch of anger.
"Do you think," he bit out quietly, "that my 'first reaction' would jeopardize the situation?"
"No!" Stingmon blurted. "I just didn't want you to get worried or be upset!" At that, the anger left Ken's eyes and was replaced by something far worse: a look of disappointment and sadness.
"Stingmon," he said gently, "we set up the mail system to keep us all in the know specifically so that we wouldn't have to worry about any of this. Don't worry; I'll be fine." Stingmon looked up with righteous indignation at the response.
"I'm not a Child - level digimon, Ken-chan," he said. "I made a decision knowing the consequences. I just wanted you to not worry about it for once."
"I have to worry about it. It's my job," Ken said.
"Sometimes other people can do that job too, Ken," Stingmon said. "You're not the only one who can take care of things sometimes."
"I have to try," Ken responded, somewhat more forcefully.
"Now you're being stupid, Ken-chan," the insect responded. Ken glanced up sharply, but thought better when he saw the serious and concerned look on Stingmon's face.
"I know that I can push myself a bit far, but that's what I do. The Digital World is more important than my immediate health, Stingmon. I owe it too much," Ken said. Stingmon decided to leave it at that; he wouldn't fight over this territory again. He'd lost too many times.
"Moving on," the bug said, "we talked and Palmon came up with an interesting idea: she proposed that we send somebody out and find out what was going on."
Ken shook his head. "If the Internet's really coming down, you'd need somebody who..." He trailed off, realizing where Stingmon was steering the conversation. "Did you get coaching from Piedmon?" he ended somewhat crossly.
"No," Stingmon responded. "Approaching you like this was Datamon's idea." The left side of Ken's mouth turned down somewhat.
"That certainly fits."
"You don't like it?"
"No, and for a simple reason. Who's going to reconstruct the Seals to respond to something different if I'm gone? I'm the only one who really knows how they work; I've tried to explain them to everyone, and even Vademon is at a loss to have any idea how they work. I've got to get them changed out and set to conform to a new way of doing things."
"Regardless, we do need a spy or something that can tell us what's going on over on the other side."
Ken turned away, frustrated. "We can't do that! I can't leave and nobody else can go." Struggling with the problem in his head, he clenched a fist.
Stingmon said softly, "Gennai agreed that you should go."
Ken abruptly unclenched his fist, turning to Stingmon with an apprehensive light. "Gennai appeared?" Ken had a point there; the old Guardian hadn't reappeared since the fiasco five years ago, and had made it clear at that point that nothing short of a major catastrophe was going to bring him out of his ne'er-seen home. Apparently, he thought the latest problem a major catastrophe indeed.
"Yes, he did. He said that it was time you stop hiding in the Digital World, and I agree with him," Stingmon pronounced. Ken turned away again softly, walking out of the room. Stingmon hurried to keep up with him as he went into the hall, leaving the water bottle behind on the floor. "Ken-chan?"
Ken shook his head. "Gennai's rarely wrong, but he's never given us the whole story." He breathed out deeply and said, "He's also right about me." Stingmon, who had caught up completely by the last statement, nodded. "I've never really fit in the real world, but I can't very well replace it with this world. It's not my home; it's lacking other humans."
"You could go see your parents," Stingmon suggested softly. It was the wrong suggestion.
"No, I'm not going to go anywhere where I could be noticed. I'm just going out to figure out what's going on, and to try and get more comfortable with others in general." Ken kept his tone level.
"Your mind's made up," Stingmon noticed, and carefully kept the smile on his face small and relieved rather than big and thrilled like he wanted it to be.
"It is," Ken responded, "and we've got a lot to do before I can leave, so let's go." With that, he charged down the hallway towards the command center of the Digital Capital with Stingmon behind.
****
The Command Center was a relaxed place, run by meticulously trained operators, and had the air of a quietly professional operation. Ken and Stingmon broke over the Command Center like a summer storm with Ken fully in Regent command mode. "All non-essential personnel here in the Center, out!" Ken hollered, shattering the quiet air, walking right over to a nearby console. "Geckomon, get me the full list of places that we cover here in the Center and a technical readout on the Seals. Pumpkinmon, get Biyomon on the line, and somebody get this place double-crewed. Stingmon, get Agumon raised as soon as you can. Move, people!" Digimon were now running all around the place, ducking and mostly streaming out of the room in excited murmering while the few chosen operatives got to work feverishly on their tasks. Ken continued: "Mottimon, get the whole Capital locked down of non-essential personnel and get the Protectors ready to run the place a little tightly. Cancel any vacations that get in the way. This isn't a drill, people!"
He glanced over at Stingmon, who was over at a comm console, and said, "Stingmon, while I'm gone, you're in charge of day-to-day. You've done it before; this time it'll be a bit easier." A few Digimon left in the room in the know chuckled somewhat at that. "Get Leomon and Piedmon down here to give you a hand and have them get their favored minions to take over their duties. Agumon's gonna be in charge here in the Center with Biyomon backing him up; she'll have to get somebody to cover for her for a few days or so." Ken started to work the console he had chosen.
"All set, Regent!" the Geckomon replied. Ken glanced his way briefly.
"Okay then, get word to the Chosen Chamber that we need my D-3 powered up for a few days. Tell the Keeper to haul ass -- I need this as of today, in a few hours!" The Geckomon dived to another console and started to slam in orders. "Stingmon, get the teleporter ready for incoming Digimon."
"Already done, Regent," he called out, distracted. "Aquilamon on the line for you!"
"Send it through!" he yelled over the conversations of the newly arriving double crew -- some twenty strong Digimon -- while stepping away from his console. He walked towards the screen as the white-brown visage of Aquilamon appeared on the screen. He was the Protectors' commander and had been flying out to East Server on his yearly vacation when the announcement was made. He had somehow found a communication tower all the way out there. "What's up, Aquilamon?"
"Confirming orders, sir," Aquilamon said crisply. "You're putting us on Level 2?"
"You'd better believe it, Aquila. Get yourself down here as fast as you can and get a platoon with you when you do."
"Acknowledged," the bird said, saluting smartly. "I'll be down in a few hours." With that, he signed off and the Regent turned towards the rest of the room, now totally crewed. The transporter in the corner flashed once and the orange dinosaurish figure of Agumon stood there, composing himself. Ken walked right over to him.
"What's up, Regent?" the little guy said. "What do you need?"
"I'm heading out of town for a while," the Regent said, and Agumon's eyes lit up. "You're in charge of taking care of this room and thusly the whole shebang while I'm out. You've got Biyomon on the way to back you up and you'll report to Stingmon for major instructions. The list of things you need to know was prepared by Geckomon over there." He waved in the general direction of the Digimon in question.
"Okay! I'll do it!" Agumon said enthusiastically. Ken motioned towards the head console and Agumon walked over there, barking out his own orders as he went. Once he was there, he turned towards the Regent and asked, "What should I tell these guys?"
It was something that in all the rush Ken had forgotton. Calming down somewhat, he composed himself and decided on what he was going to say. "Okay people, here's what's going on: I'm headed to the Real World for a while, so things'll be a little different around here. Agumon's gonna be in charge of daily and Stingmon's gonna keep an eye on you." Heads nodded around the room and a few Digimon leaded back while Ken continued: "It's going to get crazy for a while when people are wondering what's going on. I don't want to start to start a panic, so try to keep this quiet for as long as you can. I've got Sting working on PR stuff for long-term but we don't anticipate that I'll be gone that long. Other than that, your duties will be the same as if we were in a war situation; just don't worry about the war part of that. I simply need the place watched very carefully while I'm gone. Any questions, talk to Agumon. Take care, people," he finished and ducked out the front door, Stingmon following him out into an empty hallway. Behind them they could hear Agumon start hollering and the transporter whine again, presumably for Biyomon.
"Agumon already knew," Ken said.
"He was at the meeting. The speech needed work," Stingmon said.
"I was in a hurry," Ken defended himself indignantly. "We need to get to the Chamber to pick up my D-3."
"No need. He sent this for you," a voice pronounced from behind him. Ken spun around and confronted the mystery voice; it was a person in a long flowing robe, marked with the sigils of the Chosen, and a hood covering her head completely. Her left hand held an unusual device -- a small computer with two screens, colored completely black with white outlining. She held it out expectantly.
Ken reached forward and took it, raising an eyebrow when he did. "Who are you?"
The woman - girl? - shook her head. "I am one of the Keeper's acolytes. He wishes me to remind you that your darkness can consume you in the real world." With that, she stepped back and quickly faded from view, becoming translucent and finally disappearing.
"I don't remember the Keeper having any 'acolytes'," Ken said amusedly, glancing down at the relic. His D-3 had been powered down and sent back to the Chamber once he had no more use for it but even now, six years later, it fit in his hand like it always had. His other hand reached back around his neck and felt the place where there was only a small mark to show where he had been first subjected to the Digital World's more... evil inhabitants. "Translation: don't use the Spore in the real world," he murmered. "Got it. You always did overreact." His fingers came back from around his neck and brushed his chest where his Crest hung from its band.
"Uh, Ken?" Stingmon ventured. "Are you okay?" Stingmon remembered well what that little spot was for. He had seen firsthand what it did to Ken and, even now that he was capable of controlling it and the power within, it still made Stingmon a little nervous. Of course any power that stemmed from a personal darkness made Sting a little worried.
"Just remembering." Ken glanced around, then walked over to a nearby monitor. "Have we lost track of the accounts that we've got running in the real world?" Ken had, in a previous life, made sport out of manipulating the banking world -- funneling money to different accounts from different accounts, moving capital around and watching it grow by investing it in funds and stocks. He had established several accounts at major banks and, even as the Regent, he would occasionally check on them. He had accumulated quite a bit of money; but now, with the Internet down --
Stingmon was taken aback. "Uh... yes. We've got no idea what's going on there," Stingmon replied. Ken lowered his head briefly. "What's the problem, Ken?"
Ken chose to make his explanation brief. "Here in the Digital world, we're set up so that money is fun, but not necessary for life. In the real world, everything revolves around having as much money as you need to do things. If you don't have any money, you can't get anything done." Having said that, Ken reached out and pulled off one of his gauntlets. He shook it and grabbed the disc that fell out, placing it in the back pocket of his outfit. "I'll be able to check on things when I get there with this," he grunted, replacing the gauntlet.
Stingmon nodded his understanding, then looked away at the far wall. "Ken-chan... are you sure that you want to go through with this?"
"Yeah," Ken responded. "I'm not sure at all if this is a good idea. I know that somebody has to go, though, and I guess it'll have to be me because I know how to fit in."
Stingmon turned and looked back at Ken. "You use that thing," he said, pointing at the D-3, "any time you want something. You got it?" Ken looked back at Stingmon. "I mean that, Ken. You've got an entire world to help you."
Ken turned away from the monitor. "Yeah, I got it," he responded, smiling slightly. "Let's get moving to the Pyramid." With that Ken strode down the hall. Stingmon followed him at a slight distance. The hallway lead out into an open atrium of sorts for performances, carnivals, shows -- whatever somebody might need a big open area for. Ken reached his left hand into the air and it flared with dark power, glowing ebony. Abruptly he left the ground, spinning around slightly to make sure that Stingmon was following him. Stingmon was indeed, his thin wings pumping furiously; and together the two of them left the Capital building for Central Server and Datamon's pyramid.
****
The air was crisp and cool; no wind to speak of. They passed over Capital City and its inhabitants' houses, moving inland away from the heat. Stingmon and the Regent flying somewhere was not an unfamiliar sight for the people living there, and a few of them waved cheerfully up at the twosome before returning to their daily chores. Of those who saw, a few of them remarked on the direction and wondered what business the Regent could have at the desert at this time of year. Ken and Stingmon didn't wave back, choosing rather to focus on flying and their goals.
Ken did take some time to merely look around the scenery. He remembered it being far different just five years ago; despoiled and desolate from a war between two strong powers, subject to constant raids and attacks. Now it showed nothing but a passive, beautiful forested country. He always looked down at this part of the land when passing over it. It kept him humble and it reminded him just how far he had come, with the aid of his friends and Stingmon.
It took them two hours to cross the mountain range that seperated the coastal, temperate region of Server from the desert center of the continent. The heat was stifling and both of them increased their speed somewhat to keep the hot air from settling on them. Another half an hour of travel was required to make it to the Pyramid, which was in the concentric center of the desert. The Pyramid hadn't changed much; it was still an upside-down design with a massive basement. It was, however, artificially cooled down, and approaching the awkward building they could feel where they crossed the line into where Datamon's coolers worked. Still sweating rather profusely, they landed at the base of the Pyramid to find Datamon waiting for them.
"Come in," he said, and led them into the Pyramid. Inside it had changed from a mass of stonework into a modern structure with carpets, professional walls, and the occasional vending machine. It was staffed by many different species, all going about their business quietly. The different halls of the place led to offices, computer rooms, and monitoring stations for the Seals. Datamon led them over to an elevator, talking: "The Seals are powered down to the lowest that we've ever had them be; if anyone wanted to break in it wouldn't take much power to get them to shut down entirely." He pushed a button and the car descended, down underground. It became much cooler as Datamon continued: "We're also set up for letting you out of here; keep in mind that out doesn't mean in and that you'll have to call ahead to get back. We'll probably keep things running a bit low power anyway in case of an emergency. Who am I reporting to right now?"
"Agumon's at the Center and Stingmon's taking over my duties," Ken said.
The car stopped, and Datamon motioned outwards with his hand. "Go on in, and be safe," he intoned, and pressed a button on the car. As soon as Stingmon and Ken stepped out, he had closed the door and shot back up.
"He's in a hurry," Stingmon said darkly. Ken shook his head and walked in. Datamon's Pyramid had long since sealed the hole in the floor that had led to Etemon's old Dark Network and in its place was a simple console, with a medium-sized monitor. It was displaying something that Ken hadn't seen in a long time: an open Digital Gate.
They both stopped, staring at the Gate, and for Ken the idea of leaving the home he had lived in for six years finally hit home; he pulled back a bit, a reluctance in his eyes. He looked around the room quietly, taking a moment to organize his thoughts.
Stingmon looked to him quietly.
Ken reached out to Stingmon with his left hand, and Stingmon returned the expression. They shook hands then, their grips firm. "Take care of my world for me, Sting," Ken managed to say, face turned downwards, hair covering his weakness. Stingmon nodded once, proud and sad, and Ken released him. He walked slowly over to the Gate and reached out his Digivice: instantly, he shone brightly, was deconstructed into a data stream, and sucked into the Gate. The flash lit up the room and dazzled Stingmon; then it was gone, the gate closed, and he was alone.
He walked away from the gate.
******
The alarm was not one that anybody in the Control Room had ever expected to go off. It was a custom job done entirely by the President's three personal assistants; they had given the technicians a brief and thorough explanation of what it was and what to do if it sounded, but other than that it was treated as a quiet abberation by their boss. None of them really believed any of it; it was checked like anything else at the shift change but other than that it was completely ignored.
So when it suddenly went off, at 7:53 PM, it created quite the stir.
"What the hell?" a confused technician asked. "I can't find the kill switch!"
"What's it for?"
"Somebody turn that damned thing off!"
This went on for several seconds until the head technician remembered the oft-ignored switch and slapped it, turning it off. The relief in the room was palpable. He motioned to one of his assistants: "Take over for a moment." He remembered the instuctions quite clearly. He left the room, walked to the end of the hall, and entered the elevator, keying for the President's floor.
He arrived at the top floor where the President kept his quarters. It was a dark place lit quietly by several spotlights, which were on different consoles. Walking quietly on the stuffed carpet, hoping his knees weren't shaking too much, he rounded the curve of the building to see the President and one of his 'assistants' conversing quietly about something. The techie took a moment to examine the President; a large, built man in a spotless black tuxedo, his long dark indigo hair down the back of his jacket, and his dark eyes watching the 'assistant' quietly. The techie couldn't see much of the assistant; only the eyes -- dark, mean eyes -- were visible.
The President evidently noticed the technician's entrance, and motioned him forward. "Come in, Mr. Iverson," he said pleasantly. His voice was heavy and cultured. "What would you like to tell me?"
Mr. Iverson couldn't help but notice that the 'assistant' had turned her intense gaze from the President and was peeling layers off of him with it. Strengthening his resolve, he turned and looked the President in the eyes. "Sir, the Digital World Transfer alarm went off at 7:53 PM. We have the analysis of events leading up to and following the alarm sounding for you, ready in your computer now." He waited for their reaction. The assistant's eyes narrowed abruptly while the President merely raised one eyebrow.
"I trust you are the technician in charge tonight, Mr. Iverson?" he asked calmly.
"I am, sir." Iverson was beginning to calm down.
"Can you tell me from the instruments and your observations what exactly happened tonight?"
"Yes, sir," Iverson said, gaining a measure of confidence. "At 7:41 , the Digital Seals' power output dipped almost 80%. At 7:52, the Seals admitted a single person or single group of persons into this world from the Digital world. At 7:53, our alarm sounded; at 7:55, the Digital Seals ran their power back up into 50% territory. It's currently 7:57 now, sir."
"Indeed," the President replied quietly. "Thank you for your time and vigilance, Mr. Iverson. Assistant?" he called out, and Iverson turned to find that the 'assistant' had left the darkness of the far end of the room and walked right up to him.
He stared increduously. "Why, you're only a --" Then its eyes flashed once, and Iverson collapsed limply to the floor. The assistant made a satisfied sound.
"You didn't have to put that much power behind it," the President admonished with a chuckle.
"He didn't say anything to me," the assistant replied stubbornly. "He's supposed to acknowledge me when I'm in the room. It's only polite."
"That is true," the President conceded. He stretched and walked over to the wall windows, staring out over the city. "Still, his report is unsettling. Do you suppose that the Digimon Emperor has decided to take a look around the real world? He has locked himself in there for six years now."
"No, he'd send a force, not a single person. I doubt that."
"As do I. He never did have a way to make his Rings work on humans. At any rate, put a team on this and head it yourself. Track down whatever he sent through his Gate and bring it to me alive for questioning. If he sent through an entourage, bring them all; they all may prove useful yet."
The assistant turned to go, stopped. "Sir, what if the Resistance makes a move on this?"
"Kill them if they appear. This is too important for them to interfere," he said, never once taking his eyes off of the darkened horizon. "They should be adequately distracted by our little game tonight, however, to give you any trouble for at least a week. Oh, and take that," motioning to the body behind them, "and put him in the infirmary until he recovers. His memory is completely erased?"
"Yes."
"Good. Go and do likewise to anyone who heard the report, then get on your assignment." The assistant showed the trace of a smile and left the room.
The assistant left leaving the President staring out over the skyline. "Ah, Ichijouji," he murmered softly, "you always were my best tool. You did something I could never do; you defeated the Chosen on their terms! Someday soon your Seals will prove insufficient to stop me and I can finally properly thank you for your trouble. No, indeed..."
****
Reaction
****
Knock, knock.
Twist, jump, curl, and extend. Just so; an arc in the air, a blur that extends to reveal death. Feet on ground, then off, coming over the rest of the body and forcing the whole body to twist around them until the body reorients itself based on the typical up-down gravitic arrangement. Bring the sabre around, wrist bending to the right, and another unfortunately placed villian loses its head and its life. Keep moving, jump; an arc in the air that the most skilled dancer would envy and be at a loss to repeat. Land on one hand -- ankle slash, bad angle but almost impossible to guard against. Push off with his good hand and bring the thin, toned arm around.
Knock, knock.
The sabre is black. It rests in his right hand and casts all before it in a sinister gleam, glowing slightly to represent its nature. He's already moving, of course, the sabre is through one man and glancing another. His loose hair is forced out of the way by the air flowing around him, while his gauntletted forearms are both, along with the hands, on the sabre and as soon as he rises to the apex of his leap he, with a tingle from the back of his neck, brings it straight down on the last enemy. The sabre's width increases on the way down but it maintains its killing edge; and whatever poor soul is standing in the way has just been given a one-way ticket to the afterlife. He rolls as he lands into a ready stance, then relaxes somewhat - just somewhat. Then reality caught up with the Regent.
"Come in," he said, glancing around the spartan training area to the sliding door. He took a strategically placed water bottle and knocked back half of it while the awaiting individual strode in. The individual said nothing. He merely set up into a ready stance and extended both of his purple arm sabers, waiting for the other to react.
The Regent examined his opponent. Stingmon was an Adult-level digimon with almost nine years' worth of straight combat experience and a goodly amount of power to match. He had been a Wormmon until a fiasco a few years back, then had Digivolved for good at that point. This particular Stingmon possessed a cocky look in his compound eyes. The Regent considered him a worthy opponent. He replaced the water bottle's cap and threw it to one side, raising his still glowing sabre and settling into his personal ready stance, lip curling up into a mixture of smirk and outright smile.
Stingmon also studied his opponent briefly. He wielded a long, black energy sabre with a stance and relaxed look that showed his years in wielding it. His crisp blue eyes surveyed Stingmon with respect. His indigo hair was pulled back into a loose tail, with only a few rebellious strands loose. He wore the blue-lined gray suit of his youth, enlarged for his more developed upper torso, a simple necklace that reached under his shirt, and the gauntlets of his past life. He also wore a ready smirk upon a face with a single blemish: a set of four matched scars on the left side of his face, flowing from his mouth down towards his shoulder.
They stood there for the eternity of a second. Then Stingmon moved.
The Regent was ready; he had been for all of that morning. He jumped directly upwards, over the forward slash of Stingmon, and swung down at Stingmon's back while clearing him. Stingmon, moving on instinct, tucked into a roll that got him out of the swing's range while allowing him to spring back up. The Regent landed as he had jumped and both stopped moving again, their backs to one another. A breath passed; the Regent's smirk grew into a brief smile and then fell before his concentration.
This time, he moved first. He launched himself at Stingmon, who parried his thrust with one saber and struck at the next blink with his other weapon. The Regent simply sidestepped while forcing the blocking saber to one side, striking out at Stingmon's now unprotected side. Stingmon responded by striking back at the Regent with the other blade, bringing it at the Regent's side, and the two energy blades clashed with a loud bang and much sizzle. Stingmon brought the other saber in a stab towards the Regent, but the man had moved already, jumping over Stingmon and swinging his saber down again; this time, the insect had no time to roll and was forced to block with one saber up in the air. The Regent landed and moved his saber forwards, ignoring the off-balanced insect's attempt to stop it, and placed the tip of it on Stingmon's throat.
The insect relaxed, then slumped somewhat. "You aren't getting any worse, are you?" He deactivated both of his energy blades. The Regent lifted the point off of Stingmon's throat and carelessly tossed the glowing weapon in the air. It shimmered briefly and disappeared upon leaving his hand.
"No, I can't say that I am," he responded. "How are things this fine morning, Sting?" A fine morning it was; it was clear and cool, no more than 60 degrees outside. The Regent's favorite time of year. Stingmon produced from a bag he had left at the door a longish list and a pad; he took a pen from behind his left ear, where it had been undisturbed by the spar.
"Eh. I've got the updates, whenever you're ready." The Regent also liked it when his mornings moved right along; he didn't like to waste time on little things when a whole world waited for him. Stingmon sometimes wondered why the Regent bothered to keep up his morning workout and sparring session now that all of the major threats to the Digital World had been destroyed or defused, but he reasoned that the current ruler of the Digital World had earned the right to be mildly paranoid when it came to his world.
The man took another big drink from his bottle, recently reclaimed from the floor, and said, "Go right ahead."
"Ok, here goes," Stingmon said, then proceeded to rattle off a large list of numbers that, upon assuming the command of the Digital World at large, the Regent had asked to be provided with each morning. Population, deaths, births, economic movement, migration timings, factories, everything that could possibly be used for making any kind of decision in the Digital World. Stingmon had no doubts that the Regent, in his areas of expertise, was an absolute genius.
The Regent reacted when Stingmon mentioned Server's factory problems. "Leomon didn't tell me that a Gazimon caused the accident. Is he all right?" Stingmon nodded. "Where's the replacement part coming out of?"
"The Pyramid complex built it."
"Ok. Get it there as fast as we can -- Leomon hates to be kept waiting for more than a day. He can really overreact sometimes."
"We know, sir," Stingmon said grinning. The Regent nodded his head, conceding the point.
"Has Gomamon finished moving the Scubamon and Divermon back to the Seadramon territory? He should have been done by yesterday, but because of the storms he got held up."
"Yes, they've made it safely across Whamon's area." The Regent let out a breath.
"We need to get Whamon to forgive them at some point in time. It's been ten years, right?" Stingmon nodded. "He doesn't need to keep that up -- it'll be bad for everyone concerned. Get one of Angemon's counselors down there as soon as one's available, okay?"
"Got it," Stingmon said, making a note of it as he did so. Angemon was a strong believer in feeling good and he had trained a large group of Wizard-type Digimon to help other Digimon through personal troubles. When he saw the program's success on his home area of File Island, he allowed other Administrators to hire them out, and donated an entire corps of them to the Regent. The Regent, in turn, allowed them to keep their titles as Angemon's Helpers, which hadn't done anything to hurt Angemon's sterling reputation either.
"Once that's done, get Piedmon on the line and tell him that he's got three months to get his Devi-type flyers in the air and trained before the Dramon-types need the airspace for their migration. He'll be happy to hear that."
"You and he always did get along well," Stingmon commented as he took the order down.
"We have a lot in common."
Stingmon let that one pass. "Palmon's almost finished with the last few sections of the Archives, and then she'll be moving on to West Metal City for her population analysis." The Regent nodded once. "Also, we have the usual mix of village problems -- people not getting along, a few bandits, etcetera. We're deploying what Protectors that we need to the areas that are most problematic, and of course the local governors were the ones to request them." The Regent nodded again. Stingmon sighed to himself; the Regent's thought lines were somewhere else. He decided to get to the most important stuff.
"We think that the human's Internet might be getting shut off," Stingmon said softly and that caught the Regent's attention; he spun around surprised and dropped his water bottle. The faint whisper of fear was on his face, despite his impossible self-control, and it was probable that only Stingmon would be able to see it. That was natural. Stingmon was the Regent's personal assistant and Digimon partner, and he knew that despite the great front that the Regent could put up that still under there was the very human Ken Ichijouji. Six years in the Digital world had certainly softened Ken's recollection of his first home but it could never destroy the fondness that Ken had for the Real World.
"When did you find that out?" Ken responded with just a touch of the fear eking out of his emotional armor.
"The others - that is, Datamon had begun to notice the downturn in Internet activity about three months ago, but it was not large enough for him to become concerned. The traffic really only started to drop in the last few days, when most of the servers were taken offline at once -- all of the corporate ones, at any rate. He sent us an e-mail and we -- the different regional directors -- gathered last night to talk about it." Ken couldn't keep the startled expression off of his face, and Stingmon braced himself silently.
"What happened to the e-mail that would have been sent to me?" Ken asked quietly. His tone indicated that he knew precisely what had happened. Stingmon sighed again and looked up.
"Ken, I was trying to protect you from your first reaction." Ken's eyes lit up with a touch of anger.
"Do you think," he bit out quietly, "that my 'first reaction' would jeopardize the situation?"
"No!" Stingmon blurted. "I just didn't want you to get worried or be upset!" At that, the anger left Ken's eyes and was replaced by something far worse: a look of disappointment and sadness.
"Stingmon," he said gently, "we set up the mail system to keep us all in the know specifically so that we wouldn't have to worry about any of this. Don't worry; I'll be fine." Stingmon looked up with righteous indignation at the response.
"I'm not a Child - level digimon, Ken-chan," he said. "I made a decision knowing the consequences. I just wanted you to not worry about it for once."
"I have to worry about it. It's my job," Ken said.
"Sometimes other people can do that job too, Ken," Stingmon said. "You're not the only one who can take care of things sometimes."
"I have to try," Ken responded, somewhat more forcefully.
"Now you're being stupid, Ken-chan," the insect responded. Ken glanced up sharply, but thought better when he saw the serious and concerned look on Stingmon's face.
"I know that I can push myself a bit far, but that's what I do. The Digital World is more important than my immediate health, Stingmon. I owe it too much," Ken said. Stingmon decided to leave it at that; he wouldn't fight over this territory again. He'd lost too many times.
"Moving on," the bug said, "we talked and Palmon came up with an interesting idea: she proposed that we send somebody out and find out what was going on."
Ken shook his head. "If the Internet's really coming down, you'd need somebody who..." He trailed off, realizing where Stingmon was steering the conversation. "Did you get coaching from Piedmon?" he ended somewhat crossly.
"No," Stingmon responded. "Approaching you like this was Datamon's idea." The left side of Ken's mouth turned down somewhat.
"That certainly fits."
"You don't like it?"
"No, and for a simple reason. Who's going to reconstruct the Seals to respond to something different if I'm gone? I'm the only one who really knows how they work; I've tried to explain them to everyone, and even Vademon is at a loss to have any idea how they work. I've got to get them changed out and set to conform to a new way of doing things."
"Regardless, we do need a spy or something that can tell us what's going on over on the other side."
Ken turned away, frustrated. "We can't do that! I can't leave and nobody else can go." Struggling with the problem in his head, he clenched a fist.
Stingmon said softly, "Gennai agreed that you should go."
Ken abruptly unclenched his fist, turning to Stingmon with an apprehensive light. "Gennai appeared?" Ken had a point there; the old Guardian hadn't reappeared since the fiasco five years ago, and had made it clear at that point that nothing short of a major catastrophe was going to bring him out of his ne'er-seen home. Apparently, he thought the latest problem a major catastrophe indeed.
"Yes, he did. He said that it was time you stop hiding in the Digital World, and I agree with him," Stingmon pronounced. Ken turned away again softly, walking out of the room. Stingmon hurried to keep up with him as he went into the hall, leaving the water bottle behind on the floor. "Ken-chan?"
Ken shook his head. "Gennai's rarely wrong, but he's never given us the whole story." He breathed out deeply and said, "He's also right about me." Stingmon, who had caught up completely by the last statement, nodded. "I've never really fit in the real world, but I can't very well replace it with this world. It's not my home; it's lacking other humans."
"You could go see your parents," Stingmon suggested softly. It was the wrong suggestion.
"No, I'm not going to go anywhere where I could be noticed. I'm just going out to figure out what's going on, and to try and get more comfortable with others in general." Ken kept his tone level.
"Your mind's made up," Stingmon noticed, and carefully kept the smile on his face small and relieved rather than big and thrilled like he wanted it to be.
"It is," Ken responded, "and we've got a lot to do before I can leave, so let's go." With that, he charged down the hallway towards the command center of the Digital Capital with Stingmon behind.
****
The Command Center was a relaxed place, run by meticulously trained operators, and had the air of a quietly professional operation. Ken and Stingmon broke over the Command Center like a summer storm with Ken fully in Regent command mode. "All non-essential personnel here in the Center, out!" Ken hollered, shattering the quiet air, walking right over to a nearby console. "Geckomon, get me the full list of places that we cover here in the Center and a technical readout on the Seals. Pumpkinmon, get Biyomon on the line, and somebody get this place double-crewed. Stingmon, get Agumon raised as soon as you can. Move, people!" Digimon were now running all around the place, ducking and mostly streaming out of the room in excited murmering while the few chosen operatives got to work feverishly on their tasks. Ken continued: "Mottimon, get the whole Capital locked down of non-essential personnel and get the Protectors ready to run the place a little tightly. Cancel any vacations that get in the way. This isn't a drill, people!"
He glanced over at Stingmon, who was over at a comm console, and said, "Stingmon, while I'm gone, you're in charge of day-to-day. You've done it before; this time it'll be a bit easier." A few Digimon left in the room in the know chuckled somewhat at that. "Get Leomon and Piedmon down here to give you a hand and have them get their favored minions to take over their duties. Agumon's gonna be in charge here in the Center with Biyomon backing him up; she'll have to get somebody to cover for her for a few days or so." Ken started to work the console he had chosen.
"All set, Regent!" the Geckomon replied. Ken glanced his way briefly.
"Okay then, get word to the Chosen Chamber that we need my D-3 powered up for a few days. Tell the Keeper to haul ass -- I need this as of today, in a few hours!" The Geckomon dived to another console and started to slam in orders. "Stingmon, get the teleporter ready for incoming Digimon."
"Already done, Regent," he called out, distracted. "Aquilamon on the line for you!"
"Send it through!" he yelled over the conversations of the newly arriving double crew -- some twenty strong Digimon -- while stepping away from his console. He walked towards the screen as the white-brown visage of Aquilamon appeared on the screen. He was the Protectors' commander and had been flying out to East Server on his yearly vacation when the announcement was made. He had somehow found a communication tower all the way out there. "What's up, Aquilamon?"
"Confirming orders, sir," Aquilamon said crisply. "You're putting us on Level 2?"
"You'd better believe it, Aquila. Get yourself down here as fast as you can and get a platoon with you when you do."
"Acknowledged," the bird said, saluting smartly. "I'll be down in a few hours." With that, he signed off and the Regent turned towards the rest of the room, now totally crewed. The transporter in the corner flashed once and the orange dinosaurish figure of Agumon stood there, composing himself. Ken walked right over to him.
"What's up, Regent?" the little guy said. "What do you need?"
"I'm heading out of town for a while," the Regent said, and Agumon's eyes lit up. "You're in charge of taking care of this room and thusly the whole shebang while I'm out. You've got Biyomon on the way to back you up and you'll report to Stingmon for major instructions. The list of things you need to know was prepared by Geckomon over there." He waved in the general direction of the Digimon in question.
"Okay! I'll do it!" Agumon said enthusiastically. Ken motioned towards the head console and Agumon walked over there, barking out his own orders as he went. Once he was there, he turned towards the Regent and asked, "What should I tell these guys?"
It was something that in all the rush Ken had forgotton. Calming down somewhat, he composed himself and decided on what he was going to say. "Okay people, here's what's going on: I'm headed to the Real World for a while, so things'll be a little different around here. Agumon's gonna be in charge of daily and Stingmon's gonna keep an eye on you." Heads nodded around the room and a few Digimon leaded back while Ken continued: "It's going to get crazy for a while when people are wondering what's going on. I don't want to start to start a panic, so try to keep this quiet for as long as you can. I've got Sting working on PR stuff for long-term but we don't anticipate that I'll be gone that long. Other than that, your duties will be the same as if we were in a war situation; just don't worry about the war part of that. I simply need the place watched very carefully while I'm gone. Any questions, talk to Agumon. Take care, people," he finished and ducked out the front door, Stingmon following him out into an empty hallway. Behind them they could hear Agumon start hollering and the transporter whine again, presumably for Biyomon.
"Agumon already knew," Ken said.
"He was at the meeting. The speech needed work," Stingmon said.
"I was in a hurry," Ken defended himself indignantly. "We need to get to the Chamber to pick up my D-3."
"No need. He sent this for you," a voice pronounced from behind him. Ken spun around and confronted the mystery voice; it was a person in a long flowing robe, marked with the sigils of the Chosen, and a hood covering her head completely. Her left hand held an unusual device -- a small computer with two screens, colored completely black with white outlining. She held it out expectantly.
Ken reached forward and took it, raising an eyebrow when he did. "Who are you?"
The woman - girl? - shook her head. "I am one of the Keeper's acolytes. He wishes me to remind you that your darkness can consume you in the real world." With that, she stepped back and quickly faded from view, becoming translucent and finally disappearing.
"I don't remember the Keeper having any 'acolytes'," Ken said amusedly, glancing down at the relic. His D-3 had been powered down and sent back to the Chamber once he had no more use for it but even now, six years later, it fit in his hand like it always had. His other hand reached back around his neck and felt the place where there was only a small mark to show where he had been first subjected to the Digital World's more... evil inhabitants. "Translation: don't use the Spore in the real world," he murmered. "Got it. You always did overreact." His fingers came back from around his neck and brushed his chest where his Crest hung from its band.
"Uh, Ken?" Stingmon ventured. "Are you okay?" Stingmon remembered well what that little spot was for. He had seen firsthand what it did to Ken and, even now that he was capable of controlling it and the power within, it still made Stingmon a little nervous. Of course any power that stemmed from a personal darkness made Sting a little worried.
"Just remembering." Ken glanced around, then walked over to a nearby monitor. "Have we lost track of the accounts that we've got running in the real world?" Ken had, in a previous life, made sport out of manipulating the banking world -- funneling money to different accounts from different accounts, moving capital around and watching it grow by investing it in funds and stocks. He had established several accounts at major banks and, even as the Regent, he would occasionally check on them. He had accumulated quite a bit of money; but now, with the Internet down --
Stingmon was taken aback. "Uh... yes. We've got no idea what's going on there," Stingmon replied. Ken lowered his head briefly. "What's the problem, Ken?"
Ken chose to make his explanation brief. "Here in the Digital world, we're set up so that money is fun, but not necessary for life. In the real world, everything revolves around having as much money as you need to do things. If you don't have any money, you can't get anything done." Having said that, Ken reached out and pulled off one of his gauntlets. He shook it and grabbed the disc that fell out, placing it in the back pocket of his outfit. "I'll be able to check on things when I get there with this," he grunted, replacing the gauntlet.
Stingmon nodded his understanding, then looked away at the far wall. "Ken-chan... are you sure that you want to go through with this?"
"Yeah," Ken responded. "I'm not sure at all if this is a good idea. I know that somebody has to go, though, and I guess it'll have to be me because I know how to fit in."
Stingmon turned and looked back at Ken. "You use that thing," he said, pointing at the D-3, "any time you want something. You got it?" Ken looked back at Stingmon. "I mean that, Ken. You've got an entire world to help you."
Ken turned away from the monitor. "Yeah, I got it," he responded, smiling slightly. "Let's get moving to the Pyramid." With that Ken strode down the hall. Stingmon followed him at a slight distance. The hallway lead out into an open atrium of sorts for performances, carnivals, shows -- whatever somebody might need a big open area for. Ken reached his left hand into the air and it flared with dark power, glowing ebony. Abruptly he left the ground, spinning around slightly to make sure that Stingmon was following him. Stingmon was indeed, his thin wings pumping furiously; and together the two of them left the Capital building for Central Server and Datamon's pyramid.
****
The air was crisp and cool; no wind to speak of. They passed over Capital City and its inhabitants' houses, moving inland away from the heat. Stingmon and the Regent flying somewhere was not an unfamiliar sight for the people living there, and a few of them waved cheerfully up at the twosome before returning to their daily chores. Of those who saw, a few of them remarked on the direction and wondered what business the Regent could have at the desert at this time of year. Ken and Stingmon didn't wave back, choosing rather to focus on flying and their goals.
Ken did take some time to merely look around the scenery. He remembered it being far different just five years ago; despoiled and desolate from a war between two strong powers, subject to constant raids and attacks. Now it showed nothing but a passive, beautiful forested country. He always looked down at this part of the land when passing over it. It kept him humble and it reminded him just how far he had come, with the aid of his friends and Stingmon.
It took them two hours to cross the mountain range that seperated the coastal, temperate region of Server from the desert center of the continent. The heat was stifling and both of them increased their speed somewhat to keep the hot air from settling on them. Another half an hour of travel was required to make it to the Pyramid, which was in the concentric center of the desert. The Pyramid hadn't changed much; it was still an upside-down design with a massive basement. It was, however, artificially cooled down, and approaching the awkward building they could feel where they crossed the line into where Datamon's coolers worked. Still sweating rather profusely, they landed at the base of the Pyramid to find Datamon waiting for them.
"Come in," he said, and led them into the Pyramid. Inside it had changed from a mass of stonework into a modern structure with carpets, professional walls, and the occasional vending machine. It was staffed by many different species, all going about their business quietly. The different halls of the place led to offices, computer rooms, and monitoring stations for the Seals. Datamon led them over to an elevator, talking: "The Seals are powered down to the lowest that we've ever had them be; if anyone wanted to break in it wouldn't take much power to get them to shut down entirely." He pushed a button and the car descended, down underground. It became much cooler as Datamon continued: "We're also set up for letting you out of here; keep in mind that out doesn't mean in and that you'll have to call ahead to get back. We'll probably keep things running a bit low power anyway in case of an emergency. Who am I reporting to right now?"
"Agumon's at the Center and Stingmon's taking over my duties," Ken said.
The car stopped, and Datamon motioned outwards with his hand. "Go on in, and be safe," he intoned, and pressed a button on the car. As soon as Stingmon and Ken stepped out, he had closed the door and shot back up.
"He's in a hurry," Stingmon said darkly. Ken shook his head and walked in. Datamon's Pyramid had long since sealed the hole in the floor that had led to Etemon's old Dark Network and in its place was a simple console, with a medium-sized monitor. It was displaying something that Ken hadn't seen in a long time: an open Digital Gate.
They both stopped, staring at the Gate, and for Ken the idea of leaving the home he had lived in for six years finally hit home; he pulled back a bit, a reluctance in his eyes. He looked around the room quietly, taking a moment to organize his thoughts.
Stingmon looked to him quietly.
Ken reached out to Stingmon with his left hand, and Stingmon returned the expression. They shook hands then, their grips firm. "Take care of my world for me, Sting," Ken managed to say, face turned downwards, hair covering his weakness. Stingmon nodded once, proud and sad, and Ken released him. He walked slowly over to the Gate and reached out his Digivice: instantly, he shone brightly, was deconstructed into a data stream, and sucked into the Gate. The flash lit up the room and dazzled Stingmon; then it was gone, the gate closed, and he was alone.
He walked away from the gate.
******
The alarm was not one that anybody in the Control Room had ever expected to go off. It was a custom job done entirely by the President's three personal assistants; they had given the technicians a brief and thorough explanation of what it was and what to do if it sounded, but other than that it was treated as a quiet abberation by their boss. None of them really believed any of it; it was checked like anything else at the shift change but other than that it was completely ignored.
So when it suddenly went off, at 7:53 PM, it created quite the stir.
"What the hell?" a confused technician asked. "I can't find the kill switch!"
"What's it for?"
"Somebody turn that damned thing off!"
This went on for several seconds until the head technician remembered the oft-ignored switch and slapped it, turning it off. The relief in the room was palpable. He motioned to one of his assistants: "Take over for a moment." He remembered the instuctions quite clearly. He left the room, walked to the end of the hall, and entered the elevator, keying for the President's floor.
He arrived at the top floor where the President kept his quarters. It was a dark place lit quietly by several spotlights, which were on different consoles. Walking quietly on the stuffed carpet, hoping his knees weren't shaking too much, he rounded the curve of the building to see the President and one of his 'assistants' conversing quietly about something. The techie took a moment to examine the President; a large, built man in a spotless black tuxedo, his long dark indigo hair down the back of his jacket, and his dark eyes watching the 'assistant' quietly. The techie couldn't see much of the assistant; only the eyes -- dark, mean eyes -- were visible.
The President evidently noticed the technician's entrance, and motioned him forward. "Come in, Mr. Iverson," he said pleasantly. His voice was heavy and cultured. "What would you like to tell me?"
Mr. Iverson couldn't help but notice that the 'assistant' had turned her intense gaze from the President and was peeling layers off of him with it. Strengthening his resolve, he turned and looked the President in the eyes. "Sir, the Digital World Transfer alarm went off at 7:53 PM. We have the analysis of events leading up to and following the alarm sounding for you, ready in your computer now." He waited for their reaction. The assistant's eyes narrowed abruptly while the President merely raised one eyebrow.
"I trust you are the technician in charge tonight, Mr. Iverson?" he asked calmly.
"I am, sir." Iverson was beginning to calm down.
"Can you tell me from the instruments and your observations what exactly happened tonight?"
"Yes, sir," Iverson said, gaining a measure of confidence. "At 7:41 , the Digital Seals' power output dipped almost 80%. At 7:52, the Seals admitted a single person or single group of persons into this world from the Digital world. At 7:53, our alarm sounded; at 7:55, the Digital Seals ran their power back up into 50% territory. It's currently 7:57 now, sir."
"Indeed," the President replied quietly. "Thank you for your time and vigilance, Mr. Iverson. Assistant?" he called out, and Iverson turned to find that the 'assistant' had left the darkness of the far end of the room and walked right up to him.
He stared increduously. "Why, you're only a --" Then its eyes flashed once, and Iverson collapsed limply to the floor. The assistant made a satisfied sound.
"You didn't have to put that much power behind it," the President admonished with a chuckle.
"He didn't say anything to me," the assistant replied stubbornly. "He's supposed to acknowledge me when I'm in the room. It's only polite."
"That is true," the President conceded. He stretched and walked over to the wall windows, staring out over the city. "Still, his report is unsettling. Do you suppose that the Digimon Emperor has decided to take a look around the real world? He has locked himself in there for six years now."
"No, he'd send a force, not a single person. I doubt that."
"As do I. He never did have a way to make his Rings work on humans. At any rate, put a team on this and head it yourself. Track down whatever he sent through his Gate and bring it to me alive for questioning. If he sent through an entourage, bring them all; they all may prove useful yet."
The assistant turned to go, stopped. "Sir, what if the Resistance makes a move on this?"
"Kill them if they appear. This is too important for them to interfere," he said, never once taking his eyes off of the darkened horizon. "They should be adequately distracted by our little game tonight, however, to give you any trouble for at least a week. Oh, and take that," motioning to the body behind them, "and put him in the infirmary until he recovers. His memory is completely erased?"
"Yes."
"Good. Go and do likewise to anyone who heard the report, then get on your assignment." The assistant showed the trace of a smile and left the room.
The assistant left leaving the President staring out over the skyline. "Ah, Ichijouji," he murmered softly, "you always were my best tool. You did something I could never do; you defeated the Chosen on their terms! Someday soon your Seals will prove insufficient to stop me and I can finally properly thank you for your trouble. No, indeed..."