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.
****
History Lesson
****
The Acolytes had finished patching up Miyako hours ago. They'd cleaned and dressed what remained of the wound; they'd washed her down, shooing the Keeper out of the room; they'd even given her a new outfit -- one of the hooded robes that they themselves wore -- and still Miyako had yet to awaken.
Fortunately for the rest of the Acolytes, the Keeper had managed to keep his obvious apprehension to a minimum. His healing solution had worked wonders in keeping her alive but the more advanced medical procedures that the Acolytes had practiced on her were almost beyond his desire to understand. Cleaning and bandages were two things he never really liked to do, anyway. Sitting quietly outside the room, waiting for some word from one of them, he arched his fingers and focused inward. He knew exactly why she wasn't waking up, but that didn't make anything easier on him.
He rose from his lotus position and knocked on the door three times, quietly. The door itself was made of imported East Server cherrywood, a rich and heavy composite, and it was carefully fitted into the stonework that surrounded the door, and that was carefully fitted into the ceiling, composed of meticulously painted works by artists from the Capital. That ceiling was made up of thousands of individually carved stone blocks, which had been fitted together so as to not waste space or use much mortar, and that ceiling was only partially grafted onto the actual ceiling of the cavern. The Keeper had discovered the place some four years ago; with the unorthodox help of the Acolytes he unearthed the heart of the Chamber. That's not enough, he'd exclaimed, and they all set to work on the Chamber. Three years later it was ready for people to live in it.
Right now, though, the solid construction was a curse. He wanted to put his fist through a door!
Keeping his temper, he stood quietly; eventually, one of the Acolytes answered the door. This one was a bit unusual; she kept her hood over her head at all times while she was outside of the Chamber, like they all did, but inside it she kept her hood back over her shoulder. Right now, she wore an expression of tired concern lightly dabbed with irritation. "There hasn't been any change, Keeper," she said. "She's presentable, however, so you can go on in."
He nodded, face betraying nothing, and held up a hand. "You've been working on this for five hours," he said softly. "Take a break for awhile, okay?" She nodded and walked away, running a hand through his hair on the way. In the old days, it would have made him spin around, embarrassed, but now it elicited a quiet grin and another nod. He'd take what support and family he could get these days.
The Acolytes inside the room got up, three strong, and walked quietly out of the room as he went inside. The room itself wasn't more than twelve feet in length and no wider than eight feet; the exact calculations escaped the Keeper right now but he knew that to have almost thirty of these rooms together they'd have to be pretty small. The room contained a simple desk, dresser, and a bed, one that had had three changes of sheets in the last five hours. The acolytes couldn't stabilise the bleeding until then. Miyako herself was out on the bed, and the mere sight her was enough to have him throw his hood over his head, blotting out the light from the luminescent moss; the only practical source of light in a cavern such as this.
He sat down in a chair, pulling it out from the desk, and contemplated. She's seen better days, he observed to himself; her once luxurious hair had been fried by its run-in with the Seals and whatever else she'd encountered on the other side and the Acolytes had been forced to cut it short -- almost to the roots short -- and they'd styled it that way, too. She was clad in a simple acolyte robe; her shoulder was wrapped thickly with bandages and taped that way, the Keeper knew, but the robe covered it nicely. She'd had glasses but they were damaged beyond repair, the lenses shattered and the frames twisted. He'd already made a call out to Leomon on West Server, who claimed that his glass-production factories were down. It was up to him, he guessed, to fix that particular problem.
Among all of that, though, was the expression on her face. It was one of fear and tension and weariness all rolled into one little ball, and the Keeper had a sinking feeling that she wasn't having a very relaxing sleep. She tossed and turned a bit and generally made quite a fuss while perched on the edge of whatever dream she was having. All of that, because of him; because of the healing power painstakingly extracted from the Digimental of Light, that he used on her to keep her alive. While it healed the body, it also attempted to cure the ills of a soul. The problems of people, however, were simply too much for any mere potion to heal; the person exposed to the solution would have to suffer from its effects, trapped in a dream-like state until the potion ran its course.
He cleared his throat, placed a glass of water on the nearby desk, and held out his hands. Calling on the Digimental of Sincerity he focused forwards, drawing on its growth ability, and a quiet green glow filled his hands and spread to Miyako's eyes briefly as digital matter formed itself, reshaping from a blob of random energy into a small bit of metal and glass; abruptly, the glow extinguished itself and a pair of glasses dropped into his hands. Exhausted, he took a long sip from the water glass and, placing the newly minted glasses on the side table, he waited for her.
****
Miyako floated in a cloud. It was an exotic cloud, at that -- colored purple and white and constantly moving around her. Presently she realized that she couldn't feel her shoulder -- in fact, there wasn't any sensation from any part of her body below her neck. Terrified, she called out for help, only to hear her voice echo out into the cloud. She found herself drifting off and couldn't control where her mind's eye was moving, and a scene from her past, one she had tried to forget, came up into her consciousness...
"Yeah!" Daisuke shouted, pumping a fist. Magnamon had just dodged a surprise attack, moving skillfully out of the way of Kimeramon's SkullGreymon hand and blasting with his Magna Blaster attack, knocking the huge Digimon out of the sky for the first time. Miyako raised a hand tiredly towards Magnamon, shouting encouragement even as the armored titan lifted his left hand and shot off another Magna Blaster, one that Kimeramon took solidly on his MetalGreymon body armor. "We've got him on the run now!" Daisuke shouted.
Beside her, Iori crouched next to a battered Armadillomon, grinning despite his serious nature. "I never thought we'd get through this one!" he shouted to Miyako over the din of battle. She nodded enthusiastically, cradling the barely-awake Hawkmon in her arms.
Hikari shouted over, "Are you guys okay?" Her Salamon, dedigevolved from Gatomon, rested itself on her shoulder while Takeru's Patamon was slumped in his arms next to the hat that it loved.
"We're great!" Miyako shouted back. "Let's see if we can help out Daisuke!"
"Great idea!" Takeru yelled. "Patamon, up for another go?"
"Uhh..." Patamon groaned, then halfway sat up. "I think I might be able to help out a bit..." Across the field, Kimeramon rallied itself and regained the air again, blasting away at Magnamon who dodged the brunt of the attack and rolled easily away from the follow-up clawing, rapping the giant Digimon sharply on its armored head as he did so.
"Armadillomon! We've got to give Magnamon a hand!" Iori shook the little guy up to his feet again. "I know you can do it!"
Now fully awake, Salamon turned to her partner. "If you think I can do it, Hikari, I know I can."
Hikari hugged her partner softly. "Of course you can, Salamon!"
Mikayo was about to follow suit -- she had already carefully laid out the tired Hawkmon out on a nearby rock -- when she noticed the Emperor some distance away. Even from this distance she could tell by his slack expression and frozen stance that the thought of true defeat had never crossed his mind until that very moment, when Magnamon sent another flight of missiles onto the already battered back of Kimeramon. The giant dropped out of the air sharply this time, crashing roughly to the ground and, for the first time, howling in pain. Almost in sympathy, the Emperor began to shake slightly and Miyako saw his sunglasses fall to the ground from the motion, shook right off their perch on his nose.
"Uhh, guys..." she started, but she never finished the statement. The Emperor suddenly stopped shaking and, some decision made, pulled out his black D-3. He held it out towards the fight, where Magnamon had stopped attacking to survey his battered foe, and screamed something at the top of his lungs. The Digivice suddenly flickered with an odd black glow, one that painted the area in a purple light. The glow quickly fell away, however, leaving the Emperor standing there pointing his D-3 at the fallen Kimeramon.
Hikari was the first to notice, and she screamed and pointed, suddenly panicked. Everyone followed her outstretched finger with their eyes to see, off in the distance, one of the Emperor's control spires falling apart. It wasn't smashed by any kind of blow -- it simply came apart into a cloud of black fragments. The one next to it crumbled in a similar fashion, and the fragments of both spires floated in the air briefly before flying away... straight into the D-3 of the Digimon Emperor.
It began to shine a deep black, glowing more and more as the next cloud of spire matter hit it... and the next... and the next... and before the Chosen knew quite what was happening the sky became blackened with the sheer amount of spire fragments that the Digimon Emperor had called. His D- 3 began to glow more and more, outshining even the sun in its deep black glow and it continued to pull power from every fragment that touched it. The power radiating from the D-3 and the incoming dark clouds working together caused a miniature windstorm to kick up in the area, one that Miyako took shelter behind a nearby rock to avoid, dragging Hawkmon with her. The other Chosen did likewise, save Daisuke who stood out in the open and braved the elements to be with his Magnamon. Being at the heart of it, the Emperor didn't seem affected by the windstorm.
Miyako did some fast calculating. Since the Emperor had taken control of Kimeramon he'd simply charged across pretty much every loose territory he could find and laid down a spire there. That meant that he had literally thousands of control spires under his control. Judging by the stream of black matter that was being pulled into the D-3, blotting out the sky and creating an unnatural glow that lit the entire plateau that they were doing battle on. If every one of them was capable of disrupting their powers with its own, and he had called thousands of them together in one place --
"What's going on?" Daisuke yelled, unsure of what to do. His eyes were riveted on the spreading black glow from the Emperor's D-3.
"I don't know!" Takeru answered back, frightened. "I've never seen this before!"
"Just keep down," Iori shouted. "I'll try and interrupt him!"
Miyako opened her mouth to yell at him for suggesting that and abruptly shut up as he ran out into the gale, charging towards the Emperor and the heart of the storm. He ran directly towards the black glow of the D-3, only to be tossed back like a doll when he got too close to the whipping center of the windstorm. He fell to the ground hard, landing on his back shaken; Takeru ventured out and grabbed him, pulling Iori behind the rocks he was hiding behind.
The storm grew worse and Miyako screamed when the helmet she had always wore was ripped off her head by the force of the furious wind. She fell on top of Hawkmon and anchored herself to the rock, staring at the the Emperor's blindingly bright D-3 in abject terror. On the other side, she could hear Takeru yelling at Hikari to stay down and Iori's startled yelping as the sky became completely black and only the darkness shined, glinting off of Magnamon's armor.
Then, suddenly, the sky opened up again and the glow died down somewhat; the storm abruptly ceased and all manner of debris fell out of the sky, pelting Emperor and Chosen alike. Miyako ran out into the open, joining Daisuke and the others as they also broke cover and came over. "What did he do?" were the stunned first words out of Hikari's mouth. "I feel cold all over!"
"I don't know," Iori said winded, "but I'll guess that he's not done yet. Look!"
They all stared at the Emperor, who had not yet lowered his arm. His black D-3 still radiated power, manifested now in electrical crackling around it and him. He wore a smirk on his face and a crazed look in his eyes, and he gave all of the Chosen a disturbing feeling. "You'll pay right now, Chosen!" he shouted, and braced his outstretched arm with the other one. He seemed to crouch lower somehow and his face contorted in concentration --
His digivice flared suddenly and an enormous wave of dark energy poured from the D-3, straight towards the Chosen! They grabbed their tired Digimon and dove or ran away from the beam, all of them getting out of the way of the attack in time... except for Takeru, who didn't quite move fast enough. The beam caught the edge of his left leg and spun him around, slamming into Hikari who also fell over and they ended up in a tangled heap, Takeru screaming.
"Everyone okay?!" Daisuke yelled from his back.
"Fine!" Miyako shouted, spitting out a faceful of sand.
"Still going," Iori said calmly. He had simply somersaulted out of the way, carrying Armadillomon with him.
"Felt better!" Hikari yelled from under Takeru.
"Aah..." Takeru groaned. "I'll be alright."
"Hah!" Daisuke shouted. "Your great attack didn't do a thing!" He pulled himself to his feet, glancing around to make sure everyone else was getting up. Miyako rose carefully, intending on paying him back for that, and stopped cold at the sight of him laughing softly.
"You miss the point, Chosen..." he chuckled. "That wasn't aimed at you." Miyako spun around, looking down the scorched and blackened path of the beam.
It led right towards Kimeramon.
Who was solidly glowing black, pulsing slowly with a deep humming sound.
Magnamon, directly above Kimeramon still, hadn't been in the path of the beam. He stared down as Kimeramon began to glow white underneath the black exterior. "What..." he managed to say, before the glowing Kimeramon somehow blasted out in all directions. He was pushed up somewhat before he regained control of himself; the Chosen weren't as lucky and were tossed like dolls around the landscape, coming down hard some six or seven feet away from where they'd been standing, their Digimon falling on top of them as they went. The Emperor fell hard, knocked over by the sudden blast of power coming from Kimeramon.
"Look at Kimeramon!" Miyako shrieked from her new position on the ground. "He's healing himself!"
Meanwhile, the formerly stricken Digimon got to his feet once more, armor repaired and flesh knitted anew. The glow didn't fade, however; in fact, it got stronger. Amidst the screaming from the Chosen and their Digimon came another hissing, confusing sound. It was the sound of data reconfiguring itself. The glow surrounding Kimeramon became stronger, then encompassed his entire being and grew outwards in all directions, as the sound of data being altered became steadily louder...
"He's not healing himself," Hikari said, horror awakening on her face. "He's Digevolving!"
The glow, apparently not satisfied with slow expansion, suddenly exploded in all directions. It shaped itself into a vast draconic creature, with twin cannons at its shoulders, and it was built roughly like Machinedramon of old; except that this creature was fully alive. It didn't have any metallic parts other than the cannons. Rather, it was composed of solid scales and draconic fur, colored solid black. As it expanded it continued to grow, to where it was larger than even the giant VenomMyotismon that Hikari and Takeru had seen. Finally it finished growing and changing; it was huge and black and obviously dangerous.
In a voice like grinding gears, it bellowed triumphantly, "Kimeramon digevolve to... Milleniumon!"
Everything became quiet after its proclamation as the demon looked around itself at the huddled team, radiating menace and a black hatred that made them all sick. The Chosen could only stare at the enormous monster; their partners whimpered a bit and clung to them. Daisuke's Magnamon flew down and landed, stumbling onto one knee while looking up... and up... and up at the towering black Digimon. Miyako's gut clenched rather tightly and, dropping to her knees, she had to fight off the urge to vomit; beside her, Hikari made a choking sound. "It looks just like Apocalymon did..." she whispered, terrified. Takeru placed an arm around her and she collapsed into it, sobbing quietly. Iori looked down, unwilling to meet the eyes of the monster, taking stock of Armadillomon and the other Digimon as he did so. The Emperor got up about halfway and stopped dead, still on his butt, looking at his new creation with a dumbstruck expression of dawning comprehension and horror on his face. Daisuke did none of these things.
Daisuke looked up and Milleniumon glared down at him... and for him and the monster, time froze.
Dimly, Miyako became aware the face-off between the Chosen and Milleniumon. Neither of the two had moved; rather, they were as still as statues, neither blinking or realizing that they were being stared at. Hikari got herself under control, still holding a pale Takeru as she did so. Iori stroked Armadillomon's back and Hawkmon's head, calming the frenzied Digimon down somewhat as he looked up at the confrontation. "What's he doing?" Iori asked Miyako.
"I don't know," she answered him. "I don't know."
She didn't know, but Daisuke certainly did. He broke the staring off and started forward, towards the enormous monster, joined by a risen Magnamon on the way. "What are you doing?!" Takeru yelled frantically. "You'll be killed for sure!" Across the way, the Emperor regained his feet and looked at the giant monster with a blank expression.
Then Daisuke spoke. He wasn't very loud, but they could all hear him. "Get out of here, guys."
"What?!" Hikari shrieked. "Why?!"
Daisuke held one finger up to Milleniumon, then spun around. An amused grunt came from Milleniumon; the deep vibrations shook the ground. "You guys have gotta get outta here! Go! Run for a TV and and get back home!"
"We're not leaving you!" Iori shouted.
"You have to!" he yelled in response, ignoring the dismayed looks on their faces. "Your Digimon are all too beaten to fight back!" Miyako looked down at the damaged Hawkmon in her arms, realizing that he was right. "And Takeru..." Daisuke nodded towards Hikari, who looked on, too stunned to say anything, mouth opened slightly. "Watch her."
The Child of Hope found that he couldn't say anything to that. Miyako could only watch, petrified and sobbing, as Magnamon patted Daisuke once on the back, who turned back around and faced the giant Milleniumon. Cocking its massive head to the side, Milleniumon lifted a claw and spoke again. "Have you finished?" His voice still shook the area
Daisuke nodded once.
"I have not," the monster pronounced. "There are too many non- combatants in the area."
With that, his two shoulder cannons tilted up and clicked into place. Magnamon moved, trying to get in the way, but he was an ace too slow -- "Culling the Weak!" Milleniumon roared, and the cannons went off with a pair of earth-shattering blasts. The shots arced over Magnamon's head and hurtled down... straight towards the Chosen. As one they dived away from the shots; but there wasn't any "getting away" from Milleniumon's attack. The twin blasts struck the ground and detonated into a pair of shockwaves that scattered the Chosen like tenpins, tossing them to the ground some fifteen feet away.
Miyako rolled when she landed, bumping into a fuzzy something as she kept going. Pulling herself to her knees, she glanced at what she had hit... only to find Hawkmon there, feathers scorched and torn. Something was wrong with him but she didn't know what it was, couldn't tell just by a glance. She rolled him onto his back, looking at the loyal Digimon's tired face, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Hawkmon!" she sobbed, pulling his head into her arms. "Speak to me!"
The Digimon's beak opened. "Don't cry, Miyako..." he said weakly. "Just go." With that, his head leaned back and his beak opened somewhat wider, and he seemed to collapse inside. Miyako cried out in horrified grief as her loyal Digimon, Hawkmon, dissolved in her arms, starting from his blackened wings and damaged claws and ending with his fallen head. The stream of data he made drifted about fifteen feet into the air before becoming too diffuse to see. His signature feather, formerly pinned to his forehead, did not fall apart; instead it drifted to the ground, and the slight puff it made resounded like a gong in her head.
Screaming, she backed away on hands and knees... and turned around, running for the nearest TV. She wasn't aware of it, but Iori had joined her, then Takeru and Hikari supporting each other, arms linked. Later, when they'd recovered enough to try and talk about what had happened, she found that the others had lost their Digimon as well, but that didn't matter much to her. Right then, however, she had simply dived for the TV, trying to run from all of the pain. It appeared before her, a welcome and needed escape but never a way to forget. The TV expanded for her D-3, opening a path to the real world --
****
And Miyako woke up.
She shook a bit. Of course she had used to have nightmares that covered what she had just seen, but never at that detail level. She'd never, not even in her darkest nights, had that kind of total recall, and it frightened her. Eventually, she realized that she wasn't inside a Odaiba Group stasis chamber, and she looked around.
She herself was laid back on a mildly comfortable bed, clad in some kind of flowing robe, and without her glasses on; everything was fuzzy. The room smelled of stonework and felt cool and slightly damp; she could hear, some distance away, the sound of footsteps against rock. A blob on her right side moved, sliding something over her face and eyes, and everything coalesced into perfect shapes.
She was in some kind of room, ornately designed and carved entirely from rock. She was indeed on a bed, but a small one, one that her legs almost hung over the edge. Her shoulder didn't hurt a bit; she tentatively reached up a hand, feeling the area where Gatomon sliced her, and realized that there wasn't even a red spot where once she had felt such lancing pain that it had overwhelmed her. Confused, she looked at herself. She was dressed in a robe that was marked with some kind of symbols; and even as she stared at them in confusion, trying to dredge the symbols up from his tired memory, the blob next to her -- a tall person clad in a robe cut to the same design as hers, but with a full hood that concealed his or her facial features -- suddenly spoke.
"Those symbols are the sigils of Love and Sincerity." Abruptly, her cloudy mind snapped into focus and confirmed that particular observation. "I thought they'd be appropriate," the man added, as an afterthought.
"Who are you?" she asked. The voice sounded mildly familiar but she couldn't place it to a face.
"The people here call me the Keeper, and I go by that name now," he responded, with a hint of amusement in his voice. "You're Miyako Inuoe, right?"
She nodded and he leaned back, obviously contemplating something. Presently he moved forward and said, "A long time ago, you used to go to a place called the Digital World, right?"
"Yes," she said, retreating into the robe somewhat. "How did you know?"
"You're something of a legend here, you and the others," he said vaguely, waving a bronzed hand. "There's a lot of interest in Chosen stuff right now."
"Oh," she replied. "What... what happened to my shoulder?" she asked, afraid of the answer.
"Oh, that?" he replied. "We took care of that when you got here. It was pretty easy to fix, but the medicine that we used probably didn't do anything for your mental health. It can make people come up with some pretty crazy stuff. You didn't look like you were sleeping too well. Wanna talk about it?" He put his hands on the mild wrinkles where his knees must have been.
"Not really," she said faintly, and looked away from the hooded visage of the Keeper. "I don't really like to think about that part of my life."
"Okay." He got up, letting the robe cascade around him. "It's a bit too early for you to be up and about yet, but by tomorrow night we'll be sending you out. Can't keep you here, you know? Not enough food to go around. You're in a monastary of sorts, by the way. We all call it the Chamber." She nodded once, absorbing most of what the Keeper had said.
"This might sound like a stupid question, but..." Miyako trailed off. The Keeper turned around, looking at her; somehow, despite the hood, she could tell he was giving her permission. "Where exactly am I, anyway?"
"You, Miyako, are the first human to make it here in almost seven years," he said quietly. "Welcome back to the Digital World."
****
"Ah, Takeru," the President said. "It's so good of you to drop by like this." The President was in his office on the top floor of the Odaiba Group building, and at his usual post behind his desk, which was covered with reports on the morning's unusual festivities. Takeru was currently ahead of him, dressed in prisoner fatigues and a headband, being held there by a pair of unusually large Odaiba employees, ones that happened to be carrying stunning weapons and massive chips on their shoulders, if their grips on him were anything to judge by. "Let him go, gentlemen, and head downstairs. I daresay I can handle myself."
The two walking tanks released Takeru and somehow crowded into the elevator; it shot downwards. The President picked himself up out of the chair and stuck out a hand. "I don't believe that we've been properly aquainted, Takeru. You can call me the President." Takeru did not take his hand, instead glaring at him. The President chuckled. "Let's take a walk. Perhaps when I show you what I've been working on you'll be a bit more agreeable."
With that, he started towards the elevator, which had returned up its chute. Takeru followed him after a moment's pause. The door pinged as it closed and the two men shot downwards. "Now, I understand that you've been writing some things that aren't exactly complimentary of my company," the President started. Takeru smirked slightly but didn't respond. "Well, I'm here to tell you that you're right."
That was too much; Takeru couldn't hold his tongue any longer. "What?!" he blurted. "You're admitting it?"
"Hardly. I'm acknowledging it, which is completely different."
"Why?" Takeru asked, flabbergasted. "Why did you create those ED reactors? Why are you putting them everywhere?"
The doors pinged again as they arrived, and they strode down a long hallway slowly. "I'm selling these devices for two reasons. First off," the President ticked his left index finger down, "humanity really did need an alternate energy source. At the rate that we were burning fossil fuels we would have inflicted irreparable harm onto our planet's atmosphere; we'd have all been cooked by the sun in less than ten years. But that's only a supplementary reason why. The real reason," and the President ticked off his middle finger, "has to do with the Digital World."
"What about it?" Takeru asked, suddenly pale.
"The Emperor will eventually finish what he started there, and once terrorizing the Digital World with his creations sates him no longer, he will turn his attentions here." That was not exactly what Takeru wanted to hear and it caused him to drop another shade. The President continued: "I'd rather be prepared for what he sends through any Gate that he creates instead of simply reacting all the time to what he could bring across. As such I required a large amount of power in my care." Reaching the end of the hallway, he motioned briefly at a small, metallic device at the left side of the door. "That's why I have forced the ED reactors to perform at such a high rate. Truth to tell, they don't need to pull very much power from humans at all -- they're extremely efficient -- but I needed the storeway that I have accumulated." The door beeped its affirmation and opened to show Takeru --
An enormous bowl, three stories tall, shining brightly with energy inside of it. He stopped dead at the door, mesmerized by its eerie beauty, and the President waited for him quietly inside the room. Takeru held up his hands; the light released by the energy played across them, his skin, his prison uniform. He laughed a bit, struck by the marvel of it.
"You see," the President said, "I'm sure we have enough energy to deal with the Emperor's more... exotic creations."
"Wow," Takeru breathed, watching the play of the light. "You sure do... I don't think that even Milleniumon could stand up to all this."
"Precisely," the President smiled grimly. "There's just one problem."
"Oh?" Takeru turned, looking at the President.
"We need a way to channel this power. Right now, it's all raw potential -- sure, it can make lots of light, but that's about it. Right now we need a way to use it as a weapon, a way to turn it against Milleniumon or whatever else the Emperor chooses to send through the gate. That's where you Chosen come in."
Now Takeru found himself quite confused. "I don't get it," he said. "Why do you need us?"
"It's simple," the President explained. "You're all gifted with the ability to channel and focus energy. You did it every time you helped your Digimon to Digevolve up to another level and some other times as well, like when you slew Myotismon. As such, you're the ideal tools to cut down the Emperor's monsters with."
"Whoa," Takeru marveled, a hopeful expression blooming on his face. "I'd be glad to--"
"Don't make your decision now," the President admonished, holding up a hand. "Talk about it with the others, and then choose. This is a very demanding thing that I'm asking you to do. It could very well hurt you for years to come." Takeru nodded slowly. The President snapped and somehow the two walking tanks reappeared, but they merely stood at Takeru's side rather than gripped his shoulders. "Talk to the others as well. Some of them resent me more than even you do, such as Iori does. Now, go."
Takeru walked out of the room, a new bounce in his step and the tanks hanging slightly back behind him. The President watched him go.
Another person stepped up besides the President. "How did it go?" she purred out.
The President glanced down at Gatomon, frowning. "He bought it hook, line, and sinker. Frankly, I expected more from somebody with his writing talent, but I suppose that being the Chosen of Hope can make a person somewhat gullible. What on earth are you so satisfied about?"
"Oh..." Gatomon trailed off, tail curling around her gloved left paw. "Nothing much."
"Hmm. Would this have anything to do with the damage meted out to Koushiro's lab?" The President was no longer frowning but nor was he smiling. "That boy hasn't left the maintenance people alone in hours. He's brilliant, but not exactly sociable."
"It might," Gatomon said cattily. "I had a run-in with Miyako in there."
"Ah," the President replied dryly, raising an eyebrow. "Of course. How did you like your taste of revenge?"
"More than I thought," Gatomon said, smirking.
"I'm not so sure that taking such pleasure in revenge is quite ideal for a Digimon such as yourself. Perhaps you should be focusing on the future, rather than dwelling in the past." The President looked down at his watch. "In preperation for that very future we need you to get the other Chosen prepped."
"What about Sincerity?" Gatomon asked.
"Don't worry about that," the President replied. "I'm taking care of that myself. Seeing as she's already all but ready, after all; it won't take more than a little shove to get her where we need her to be."
Gatomon trod off, apparently satisfied in her questioning. The President watched her go, mouth slowly twisting upwards. "Yes, Gatomon," he murmered quietly, "how do you like revenge? Personally, I have found it to be music for my soul."
****
History Lesson
****
The Acolytes had finished patching up Miyako hours ago. They'd cleaned and dressed what remained of the wound; they'd washed her down, shooing the Keeper out of the room; they'd even given her a new outfit -- one of the hooded robes that they themselves wore -- and still Miyako had yet to awaken.
Fortunately for the rest of the Acolytes, the Keeper had managed to keep his obvious apprehension to a minimum. His healing solution had worked wonders in keeping her alive but the more advanced medical procedures that the Acolytes had practiced on her were almost beyond his desire to understand. Cleaning and bandages were two things he never really liked to do, anyway. Sitting quietly outside the room, waiting for some word from one of them, he arched his fingers and focused inward. He knew exactly why she wasn't waking up, but that didn't make anything easier on him.
He rose from his lotus position and knocked on the door three times, quietly. The door itself was made of imported East Server cherrywood, a rich and heavy composite, and it was carefully fitted into the stonework that surrounded the door, and that was carefully fitted into the ceiling, composed of meticulously painted works by artists from the Capital. That ceiling was made up of thousands of individually carved stone blocks, which had been fitted together so as to not waste space or use much mortar, and that ceiling was only partially grafted onto the actual ceiling of the cavern. The Keeper had discovered the place some four years ago; with the unorthodox help of the Acolytes he unearthed the heart of the Chamber. That's not enough, he'd exclaimed, and they all set to work on the Chamber. Three years later it was ready for people to live in it.
Right now, though, the solid construction was a curse. He wanted to put his fist through a door!
Keeping his temper, he stood quietly; eventually, one of the Acolytes answered the door. This one was a bit unusual; she kept her hood over her head at all times while she was outside of the Chamber, like they all did, but inside it she kept her hood back over her shoulder. Right now, she wore an expression of tired concern lightly dabbed with irritation. "There hasn't been any change, Keeper," she said. "She's presentable, however, so you can go on in."
He nodded, face betraying nothing, and held up a hand. "You've been working on this for five hours," he said softly. "Take a break for awhile, okay?" She nodded and walked away, running a hand through his hair on the way. In the old days, it would have made him spin around, embarrassed, but now it elicited a quiet grin and another nod. He'd take what support and family he could get these days.
The Acolytes inside the room got up, three strong, and walked quietly out of the room as he went inside. The room itself wasn't more than twelve feet in length and no wider than eight feet; the exact calculations escaped the Keeper right now but he knew that to have almost thirty of these rooms together they'd have to be pretty small. The room contained a simple desk, dresser, and a bed, one that had had three changes of sheets in the last five hours. The acolytes couldn't stabilise the bleeding until then. Miyako herself was out on the bed, and the mere sight her was enough to have him throw his hood over his head, blotting out the light from the luminescent moss; the only practical source of light in a cavern such as this.
He sat down in a chair, pulling it out from the desk, and contemplated. She's seen better days, he observed to himself; her once luxurious hair had been fried by its run-in with the Seals and whatever else she'd encountered on the other side and the Acolytes had been forced to cut it short -- almost to the roots short -- and they'd styled it that way, too. She was clad in a simple acolyte robe; her shoulder was wrapped thickly with bandages and taped that way, the Keeper knew, but the robe covered it nicely. She'd had glasses but they were damaged beyond repair, the lenses shattered and the frames twisted. He'd already made a call out to Leomon on West Server, who claimed that his glass-production factories were down. It was up to him, he guessed, to fix that particular problem.
Among all of that, though, was the expression on her face. It was one of fear and tension and weariness all rolled into one little ball, and the Keeper had a sinking feeling that she wasn't having a very relaxing sleep. She tossed and turned a bit and generally made quite a fuss while perched on the edge of whatever dream she was having. All of that, because of him; because of the healing power painstakingly extracted from the Digimental of Light, that he used on her to keep her alive. While it healed the body, it also attempted to cure the ills of a soul. The problems of people, however, were simply too much for any mere potion to heal; the person exposed to the solution would have to suffer from its effects, trapped in a dream-like state until the potion ran its course.
He cleared his throat, placed a glass of water on the nearby desk, and held out his hands. Calling on the Digimental of Sincerity he focused forwards, drawing on its growth ability, and a quiet green glow filled his hands and spread to Miyako's eyes briefly as digital matter formed itself, reshaping from a blob of random energy into a small bit of metal and glass; abruptly, the glow extinguished itself and a pair of glasses dropped into his hands. Exhausted, he took a long sip from the water glass and, placing the newly minted glasses on the side table, he waited for her.
****
Miyako floated in a cloud. It was an exotic cloud, at that -- colored purple and white and constantly moving around her. Presently she realized that she couldn't feel her shoulder -- in fact, there wasn't any sensation from any part of her body below her neck. Terrified, she called out for help, only to hear her voice echo out into the cloud. She found herself drifting off and couldn't control where her mind's eye was moving, and a scene from her past, one she had tried to forget, came up into her consciousness...
"Yeah!" Daisuke shouted, pumping a fist. Magnamon had just dodged a surprise attack, moving skillfully out of the way of Kimeramon's SkullGreymon hand and blasting with his Magna Blaster attack, knocking the huge Digimon out of the sky for the first time. Miyako raised a hand tiredly towards Magnamon, shouting encouragement even as the armored titan lifted his left hand and shot off another Magna Blaster, one that Kimeramon took solidly on his MetalGreymon body armor. "We've got him on the run now!" Daisuke shouted.
Beside her, Iori crouched next to a battered Armadillomon, grinning despite his serious nature. "I never thought we'd get through this one!" he shouted to Miyako over the din of battle. She nodded enthusiastically, cradling the barely-awake Hawkmon in her arms.
Hikari shouted over, "Are you guys okay?" Her Salamon, dedigevolved from Gatomon, rested itself on her shoulder while Takeru's Patamon was slumped in his arms next to the hat that it loved.
"We're great!" Miyako shouted back. "Let's see if we can help out Daisuke!"
"Great idea!" Takeru yelled. "Patamon, up for another go?"
"Uhh..." Patamon groaned, then halfway sat up. "I think I might be able to help out a bit..." Across the field, Kimeramon rallied itself and regained the air again, blasting away at Magnamon who dodged the brunt of the attack and rolled easily away from the follow-up clawing, rapping the giant Digimon sharply on its armored head as he did so.
"Armadillomon! We've got to give Magnamon a hand!" Iori shook the little guy up to his feet again. "I know you can do it!"
Now fully awake, Salamon turned to her partner. "If you think I can do it, Hikari, I know I can."
Hikari hugged her partner softly. "Of course you can, Salamon!"
Mikayo was about to follow suit -- she had already carefully laid out the tired Hawkmon out on a nearby rock -- when she noticed the Emperor some distance away. Even from this distance she could tell by his slack expression and frozen stance that the thought of true defeat had never crossed his mind until that very moment, when Magnamon sent another flight of missiles onto the already battered back of Kimeramon. The giant dropped out of the air sharply this time, crashing roughly to the ground and, for the first time, howling in pain. Almost in sympathy, the Emperor began to shake slightly and Miyako saw his sunglasses fall to the ground from the motion, shook right off their perch on his nose.
"Uhh, guys..." she started, but she never finished the statement. The Emperor suddenly stopped shaking and, some decision made, pulled out his black D-3. He held it out towards the fight, where Magnamon had stopped attacking to survey his battered foe, and screamed something at the top of his lungs. The Digivice suddenly flickered with an odd black glow, one that painted the area in a purple light. The glow quickly fell away, however, leaving the Emperor standing there pointing his D-3 at the fallen Kimeramon.
Hikari was the first to notice, and she screamed and pointed, suddenly panicked. Everyone followed her outstretched finger with their eyes to see, off in the distance, one of the Emperor's control spires falling apart. It wasn't smashed by any kind of blow -- it simply came apart into a cloud of black fragments. The one next to it crumbled in a similar fashion, and the fragments of both spires floated in the air briefly before flying away... straight into the D-3 of the Digimon Emperor.
It began to shine a deep black, glowing more and more as the next cloud of spire matter hit it... and the next... and the next... and before the Chosen knew quite what was happening the sky became blackened with the sheer amount of spire fragments that the Digimon Emperor had called. His D- 3 began to glow more and more, outshining even the sun in its deep black glow and it continued to pull power from every fragment that touched it. The power radiating from the D-3 and the incoming dark clouds working together caused a miniature windstorm to kick up in the area, one that Miyako took shelter behind a nearby rock to avoid, dragging Hawkmon with her. The other Chosen did likewise, save Daisuke who stood out in the open and braved the elements to be with his Magnamon. Being at the heart of it, the Emperor didn't seem affected by the windstorm.
Miyako did some fast calculating. Since the Emperor had taken control of Kimeramon he'd simply charged across pretty much every loose territory he could find and laid down a spire there. That meant that he had literally thousands of control spires under his control. Judging by the stream of black matter that was being pulled into the D-3, blotting out the sky and creating an unnatural glow that lit the entire plateau that they were doing battle on. If every one of them was capable of disrupting their powers with its own, and he had called thousands of them together in one place --
"What's going on?" Daisuke yelled, unsure of what to do. His eyes were riveted on the spreading black glow from the Emperor's D-3.
"I don't know!" Takeru answered back, frightened. "I've never seen this before!"
"Just keep down," Iori shouted. "I'll try and interrupt him!"
Miyako opened her mouth to yell at him for suggesting that and abruptly shut up as he ran out into the gale, charging towards the Emperor and the heart of the storm. He ran directly towards the black glow of the D-3, only to be tossed back like a doll when he got too close to the whipping center of the windstorm. He fell to the ground hard, landing on his back shaken; Takeru ventured out and grabbed him, pulling Iori behind the rocks he was hiding behind.
The storm grew worse and Miyako screamed when the helmet she had always wore was ripped off her head by the force of the furious wind. She fell on top of Hawkmon and anchored herself to the rock, staring at the the Emperor's blindingly bright D-3 in abject terror. On the other side, she could hear Takeru yelling at Hikari to stay down and Iori's startled yelping as the sky became completely black and only the darkness shined, glinting off of Magnamon's armor.
Then, suddenly, the sky opened up again and the glow died down somewhat; the storm abruptly ceased and all manner of debris fell out of the sky, pelting Emperor and Chosen alike. Miyako ran out into the open, joining Daisuke and the others as they also broke cover and came over. "What did he do?" were the stunned first words out of Hikari's mouth. "I feel cold all over!"
"I don't know," Iori said winded, "but I'll guess that he's not done yet. Look!"
They all stared at the Emperor, who had not yet lowered his arm. His black D-3 still radiated power, manifested now in electrical crackling around it and him. He wore a smirk on his face and a crazed look in his eyes, and he gave all of the Chosen a disturbing feeling. "You'll pay right now, Chosen!" he shouted, and braced his outstretched arm with the other one. He seemed to crouch lower somehow and his face contorted in concentration --
His digivice flared suddenly and an enormous wave of dark energy poured from the D-3, straight towards the Chosen! They grabbed their tired Digimon and dove or ran away from the beam, all of them getting out of the way of the attack in time... except for Takeru, who didn't quite move fast enough. The beam caught the edge of his left leg and spun him around, slamming into Hikari who also fell over and they ended up in a tangled heap, Takeru screaming.
"Everyone okay?!" Daisuke yelled from his back.
"Fine!" Miyako shouted, spitting out a faceful of sand.
"Still going," Iori said calmly. He had simply somersaulted out of the way, carrying Armadillomon with him.
"Felt better!" Hikari yelled from under Takeru.
"Aah..." Takeru groaned. "I'll be alright."
"Hah!" Daisuke shouted. "Your great attack didn't do a thing!" He pulled himself to his feet, glancing around to make sure everyone else was getting up. Miyako rose carefully, intending on paying him back for that, and stopped cold at the sight of him laughing softly.
"You miss the point, Chosen..." he chuckled. "That wasn't aimed at you." Miyako spun around, looking down the scorched and blackened path of the beam.
It led right towards Kimeramon.
Who was solidly glowing black, pulsing slowly with a deep humming sound.
Magnamon, directly above Kimeramon still, hadn't been in the path of the beam. He stared down as Kimeramon began to glow white underneath the black exterior. "What..." he managed to say, before the glowing Kimeramon somehow blasted out in all directions. He was pushed up somewhat before he regained control of himself; the Chosen weren't as lucky and were tossed like dolls around the landscape, coming down hard some six or seven feet away from where they'd been standing, their Digimon falling on top of them as they went. The Emperor fell hard, knocked over by the sudden blast of power coming from Kimeramon.
"Look at Kimeramon!" Miyako shrieked from her new position on the ground. "He's healing himself!"
Meanwhile, the formerly stricken Digimon got to his feet once more, armor repaired and flesh knitted anew. The glow didn't fade, however; in fact, it got stronger. Amidst the screaming from the Chosen and their Digimon came another hissing, confusing sound. It was the sound of data reconfiguring itself. The glow surrounding Kimeramon became stronger, then encompassed his entire being and grew outwards in all directions, as the sound of data being altered became steadily louder...
"He's not healing himself," Hikari said, horror awakening on her face. "He's Digevolving!"
The glow, apparently not satisfied with slow expansion, suddenly exploded in all directions. It shaped itself into a vast draconic creature, with twin cannons at its shoulders, and it was built roughly like Machinedramon of old; except that this creature was fully alive. It didn't have any metallic parts other than the cannons. Rather, it was composed of solid scales and draconic fur, colored solid black. As it expanded it continued to grow, to where it was larger than even the giant VenomMyotismon that Hikari and Takeru had seen. Finally it finished growing and changing; it was huge and black and obviously dangerous.
In a voice like grinding gears, it bellowed triumphantly, "Kimeramon digevolve to... Milleniumon!"
Everything became quiet after its proclamation as the demon looked around itself at the huddled team, radiating menace and a black hatred that made them all sick. The Chosen could only stare at the enormous monster; their partners whimpered a bit and clung to them. Daisuke's Magnamon flew down and landed, stumbling onto one knee while looking up... and up... and up at the towering black Digimon. Miyako's gut clenched rather tightly and, dropping to her knees, she had to fight off the urge to vomit; beside her, Hikari made a choking sound. "It looks just like Apocalymon did..." she whispered, terrified. Takeru placed an arm around her and she collapsed into it, sobbing quietly. Iori looked down, unwilling to meet the eyes of the monster, taking stock of Armadillomon and the other Digimon as he did so. The Emperor got up about halfway and stopped dead, still on his butt, looking at his new creation with a dumbstruck expression of dawning comprehension and horror on his face. Daisuke did none of these things.
Daisuke looked up and Milleniumon glared down at him... and for him and the monster, time froze.
Dimly, Miyako became aware the face-off between the Chosen and Milleniumon. Neither of the two had moved; rather, they were as still as statues, neither blinking or realizing that they were being stared at. Hikari got herself under control, still holding a pale Takeru as she did so. Iori stroked Armadillomon's back and Hawkmon's head, calming the frenzied Digimon down somewhat as he looked up at the confrontation. "What's he doing?" Iori asked Miyako.
"I don't know," she answered him. "I don't know."
She didn't know, but Daisuke certainly did. He broke the staring off and started forward, towards the enormous monster, joined by a risen Magnamon on the way. "What are you doing?!" Takeru yelled frantically. "You'll be killed for sure!" Across the way, the Emperor regained his feet and looked at the giant monster with a blank expression.
Then Daisuke spoke. He wasn't very loud, but they could all hear him. "Get out of here, guys."
"What?!" Hikari shrieked. "Why?!"
Daisuke held one finger up to Milleniumon, then spun around. An amused grunt came from Milleniumon; the deep vibrations shook the ground. "You guys have gotta get outta here! Go! Run for a TV and and get back home!"
"We're not leaving you!" Iori shouted.
"You have to!" he yelled in response, ignoring the dismayed looks on their faces. "Your Digimon are all too beaten to fight back!" Miyako looked down at the damaged Hawkmon in her arms, realizing that he was right. "And Takeru..." Daisuke nodded towards Hikari, who looked on, too stunned to say anything, mouth opened slightly. "Watch her."
The Child of Hope found that he couldn't say anything to that. Miyako could only watch, petrified and sobbing, as Magnamon patted Daisuke once on the back, who turned back around and faced the giant Milleniumon. Cocking its massive head to the side, Milleniumon lifted a claw and spoke again. "Have you finished?" His voice still shook the area
Daisuke nodded once.
"I have not," the monster pronounced. "There are too many non- combatants in the area."
With that, his two shoulder cannons tilted up and clicked into place. Magnamon moved, trying to get in the way, but he was an ace too slow -- "Culling the Weak!" Milleniumon roared, and the cannons went off with a pair of earth-shattering blasts. The shots arced over Magnamon's head and hurtled down... straight towards the Chosen. As one they dived away from the shots; but there wasn't any "getting away" from Milleniumon's attack. The twin blasts struck the ground and detonated into a pair of shockwaves that scattered the Chosen like tenpins, tossing them to the ground some fifteen feet away.
Miyako rolled when she landed, bumping into a fuzzy something as she kept going. Pulling herself to her knees, she glanced at what she had hit... only to find Hawkmon there, feathers scorched and torn. Something was wrong with him but she didn't know what it was, couldn't tell just by a glance. She rolled him onto his back, looking at the loyal Digimon's tired face, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Hawkmon!" she sobbed, pulling his head into her arms. "Speak to me!"
The Digimon's beak opened. "Don't cry, Miyako..." he said weakly. "Just go." With that, his head leaned back and his beak opened somewhat wider, and he seemed to collapse inside. Miyako cried out in horrified grief as her loyal Digimon, Hawkmon, dissolved in her arms, starting from his blackened wings and damaged claws and ending with his fallen head. The stream of data he made drifted about fifteen feet into the air before becoming too diffuse to see. His signature feather, formerly pinned to his forehead, did not fall apart; instead it drifted to the ground, and the slight puff it made resounded like a gong in her head.
Screaming, she backed away on hands and knees... and turned around, running for the nearest TV. She wasn't aware of it, but Iori had joined her, then Takeru and Hikari supporting each other, arms linked. Later, when they'd recovered enough to try and talk about what had happened, she found that the others had lost their Digimon as well, but that didn't matter much to her. Right then, however, she had simply dived for the TV, trying to run from all of the pain. It appeared before her, a welcome and needed escape but never a way to forget. The TV expanded for her D-3, opening a path to the real world --
****
And Miyako woke up.
She shook a bit. Of course she had used to have nightmares that covered what she had just seen, but never at that detail level. She'd never, not even in her darkest nights, had that kind of total recall, and it frightened her. Eventually, she realized that she wasn't inside a Odaiba Group stasis chamber, and she looked around.
She herself was laid back on a mildly comfortable bed, clad in some kind of flowing robe, and without her glasses on; everything was fuzzy. The room smelled of stonework and felt cool and slightly damp; she could hear, some distance away, the sound of footsteps against rock. A blob on her right side moved, sliding something over her face and eyes, and everything coalesced into perfect shapes.
She was in some kind of room, ornately designed and carved entirely from rock. She was indeed on a bed, but a small one, one that her legs almost hung over the edge. Her shoulder didn't hurt a bit; she tentatively reached up a hand, feeling the area where Gatomon sliced her, and realized that there wasn't even a red spot where once she had felt such lancing pain that it had overwhelmed her. Confused, she looked at herself. She was dressed in a robe that was marked with some kind of symbols; and even as she stared at them in confusion, trying to dredge the symbols up from his tired memory, the blob next to her -- a tall person clad in a robe cut to the same design as hers, but with a full hood that concealed his or her facial features -- suddenly spoke.
"Those symbols are the sigils of Love and Sincerity." Abruptly, her cloudy mind snapped into focus and confirmed that particular observation. "I thought they'd be appropriate," the man added, as an afterthought.
"Who are you?" she asked. The voice sounded mildly familiar but she couldn't place it to a face.
"The people here call me the Keeper, and I go by that name now," he responded, with a hint of amusement in his voice. "You're Miyako Inuoe, right?"
She nodded and he leaned back, obviously contemplating something. Presently he moved forward and said, "A long time ago, you used to go to a place called the Digital World, right?"
"Yes," she said, retreating into the robe somewhat. "How did you know?"
"You're something of a legend here, you and the others," he said vaguely, waving a bronzed hand. "There's a lot of interest in Chosen stuff right now."
"Oh," she replied. "What... what happened to my shoulder?" she asked, afraid of the answer.
"Oh, that?" he replied. "We took care of that when you got here. It was pretty easy to fix, but the medicine that we used probably didn't do anything for your mental health. It can make people come up with some pretty crazy stuff. You didn't look like you were sleeping too well. Wanna talk about it?" He put his hands on the mild wrinkles where his knees must have been.
"Not really," she said faintly, and looked away from the hooded visage of the Keeper. "I don't really like to think about that part of my life."
"Okay." He got up, letting the robe cascade around him. "It's a bit too early for you to be up and about yet, but by tomorrow night we'll be sending you out. Can't keep you here, you know? Not enough food to go around. You're in a monastary of sorts, by the way. We all call it the Chamber." She nodded once, absorbing most of what the Keeper had said.
"This might sound like a stupid question, but..." Miyako trailed off. The Keeper turned around, looking at her; somehow, despite the hood, she could tell he was giving her permission. "Where exactly am I, anyway?"
"You, Miyako, are the first human to make it here in almost seven years," he said quietly. "Welcome back to the Digital World."
****
"Ah, Takeru," the President said. "It's so good of you to drop by like this." The President was in his office on the top floor of the Odaiba Group building, and at his usual post behind his desk, which was covered with reports on the morning's unusual festivities. Takeru was currently ahead of him, dressed in prisoner fatigues and a headband, being held there by a pair of unusually large Odaiba employees, ones that happened to be carrying stunning weapons and massive chips on their shoulders, if their grips on him were anything to judge by. "Let him go, gentlemen, and head downstairs. I daresay I can handle myself."
The two walking tanks released Takeru and somehow crowded into the elevator; it shot downwards. The President picked himself up out of the chair and stuck out a hand. "I don't believe that we've been properly aquainted, Takeru. You can call me the President." Takeru did not take his hand, instead glaring at him. The President chuckled. "Let's take a walk. Perhaps when I show you what I've been working on you'll be a bit more agreeable."
With that, he started towards the elevator, which had returned up its chute. Takeru followed him after a moment's pause. The door pinged as it closed and the two men shot downwards. "Now, I understand that you've been writing some things that aren't exactly complimentary of my company," the President started. Takeru smirked slightly but didn't respond. "Well, I'm here to tell you that you're right."
That was too much; Takeru couldn't hold his tongue any longer. "What?!" he blurted. "You're admitting it?"
"Hardly. I'm acknowledging it, which is completely different."
"Why?" Takeru asked, flabbergasted. "Why did you create those ED reactors? Why are you putting them everywhere?"
The doors pinged again as they arrived, and they strode down a long hallway slowly. "I'm selling these devices for two reasons. First off," the President ticked his left index finger down, "humanity really did need an alternate energy source. At the rate that we were burning fossil fuels we would have inflicted irreparable harm onto our planet's atmosphere; we'd have all been cooked by the sun in less than ten years. But that's only a supplementary reason why. The real reason," and the President ticked off his middle finger, "has to do with the Digital World."
"What about it?" Takeru asked, suddenly pale.
"The Emperor will eventually finish what he started there, and once terrorizing the Digital World with his creations sates him no longer, he will turn his attentions here." That was not exactly what Takeru wanted to hear and it caused him to drop another shade. The President continued: "I'd rather be prepared for what he sends through any Gate that he creates instead of simply reacting all the time to what he could bring across. As such I required a large amount of power in my care." Reaching the end of the hallway, he motioned briefly at a small, metallic device at the left side of the door. "That's why I have forced the ED reactors to perform at such a high rate. Truth to tell, they don't need to pull very much power from humans at all -- they're extremely efficient -- but I needed the storeway that I have accumulated." The door beeped its affirmation and opened to show Takeru --
An enormous bowl, three stories tall, shining brightly with energy inside of it. He stopped dead at the door, mesmerized by its eerie beauty, and the President waited for him quietly inside the room. Takeru held up his hands; the light released by the energy played across them, his skin, his prison uniform. He laughed a bit, struck by the marvel of it.
"You see," the President said, "I'm sure we have enough energy to deal with the Emperor's more... exotic creations."
"Wow," Takeru breathed, watching the play of the light. "You sure do... I don't think that even Milleniumon could stand up to all this."
"Precisely," the President smiled grimly. "There's just one problem."
"Oh?" Takeru turned, looking at the President.
"We need a way to channel this power. Right now, it's all raw potential -- sure, it can make lots of light, but that's about it. Right now we need a way to use it as a weapon, a way to turn it against Milleniumon or whatever else the Emperor chooses to send through the gate. That's where you Chosen come in."
Now Takeru found himself quite confused. "I don't get it," he said. "Why do you need us?"
"It's simple," the President explained. "You're all gifted with the ability to channel and focus energy. You did it every time you helped your Digimon to Digevolve up to another level and some other times as well, like when you slew Myotismon. As such, you're the ideal tools to cut down the Emperor's monsters with."
"Whoa," Takeru marveled, a hopeful expression blooming on his face. "I'd be glad to--"
"Don't make your decision now," the President admonished, holding up a hand. "Talk about it with the others, and then choose. This is a very demanding thing that I'm asking you to do. It could very well hurt you for years to come." Takeru nodded slowly. The President snapped and somehow the two walking tanks reappeared, but they merely stood at Takeru's side rather than gripped his shoulders. "Talk to the others as well. Some of them resent me more than even you do, such as Iori does. Now, go."
Takeru walked out of the room, a new bounce in his step and the tanks hanging slightly back behind him. The President watched him go.
Another person stepped up besides the President. "How did it go?" she purred out.
The President glanced down at Gatomon, frowning. "He bought it hook, line, and sinker. Frankly, I expected more from somebody with his writing talent, but I suppose that being the Chosen of Hope can make a person somewhat gullible. What on earth are you so satisfied about?"
"Oh..." Gatomon trailed off, tail curling around her gloved left paw. "Nothing much."
"Hmm. Would this have anything to do with the damage meted out to Koushiro's lab?" The President was no longer frowning but nor was he smiling. "That boy hasn't left the maintenance people alone in hours. He's brilliant, but not exactly sociable."
"It might," Gatomon said cattily. "I had a run-in with Miyako in there."
"Ah," the President replied dryly, raising an eyebrow. "Of course. How did you like your taste of revenge?"
"More than I thought," Gatomon said, smirking.
"I'm not so sure that taking such pleasure in revenge is quite ideal for a Digimon such as yourself. Perhaps you should be focusing on the future, rather than dwelling in the past." The President looked down at his watch. "In preperation for that very future we need you to get the other Chosen prepped."
"What about Sincerity?" Gatomon asked.
"Don't worry about that," the President replied. "I'm taking care of that myself. Seeing as she's already all but ready, after all; it won't take more than a little shove to get her where we need her to be."
Gatomon trod off, apparently satisfied in her questioning. The President watched her go, mouth slowly twisting upwards. "Yes, Gatomon," he murmered quietly, "how do you like revenge? Personally, I have found it to be music for my soul."