Part Nine: Mass Consumption: It Does A Digimon Good!
The cloaked figure was keeping to the shadows as he crept along various building walls. There were not many people to avoid and, fortunately, most didn't even give him more than a second glance so busy were they with their own doings. A dirty human sleeping in the gutter had a box of paper sticks filled with curled, tiny brown leaves, fermented grain juice, and a half-eaten hot dog. The white and yellow stick things smelled horrid, and he didn't care for alcohol's effects (being as he'd always believed it important to have your wits about you at all times), but the hot dog was spicy and felt good in his stomach, which happily set about transforming the carbon molecules into useable energy. In payment for the meal, the digimon used a simple magic spell to mend the man's torn clothing. That done, he continued his exploration of the city.
He didn't get more than a block before his nose caught a tantalizing whiff not unlike that which had belonged to what he'd just consumed.
More of the yummy food stuffs nearby? And these smelled absolutely heavenly! Wizardmon decided to take a short detour to investigate. At a street intersection a vendor was calling out "Charlie's Chili Dogs!" to pedestrians that came his way. Mouth watering, yet wary, he settled down in a dark corner to observe. Every once and a while a human would approach the cart to hand the white-aproned man some paper taken from their pant's pocket. White-apron would then put together a hot dog and hand it back, the recipients consuming the dogs while walking away. And the eaters thoughts radiated satisfaction.
So all he needed was colored paper to get re-energized like everyone else?
Making sure as little of his skin showed as possible, Wizardmon ambled closer as another customer came by. He used a bit of levitation to pull some of the paper from the unsuspecting human's pocket, paying close attention to what the paper looked like and how it compared to the one the human was holding onto in his hand.
Intricate design. And on both sides too. Hmm..
Slipping the paper back into its place, the digimon made a twisty gesture with his hands. There was a flash of blue light which faded to leave a perfect Canadian five-dollar bill behind.. Making sure his hair still covered his tell-tale ears, which he kept flat to his skull, he walked over to the vendor, head bowed.
"Hey, kid, haven't seen you around before. Nice outfit you got there." Charlie waggled the business end of his cooking fork at the digimon in mock threat. "But it ain't Halloween, so none of that trick or treat line. It's cold cash today."
Wizardmon responded to the mild sarcasm by extending his arm and gently moving his hand to indicate the piece of paper it held.
"Oh, so this isn't a hold up and you want to purchase a hot dog, eh? That's different," the vendor smiled. "Business been good and now you want eats for your dough."
Business? Dough? The Data blinked. He was not a baker and had no dough. He merely craved some of those chili dog things. Just what was the human referring to? He tried reading his mind, but the man's thoughts were only on fixing his food and getting home at a decent hour. Wizardmon sighed. When he found Nick, he'd have to ask him, since he didn't want to speak out before humans lest they somehow realized he wasn't one of them.
"I suppose you want the works?" the vendor asked as he deftly inserted a weiner into its bun. Predictably, the 'kid' nodded. (He couldn't tell whether male or female; today's 'anything goes' hairstyles made determining that a haphazard guess at best.) Well, regardless of their gender, street kids were always starving, Charlie Barnes knew. The vendor's gruff exterior hid a sympathetic heart. Once, he'd been stuck on the the wrong side of a homeless, too. Only back then, you could generally tell the boys from the girls right away, Charlie thought somewhat ruefully. He heaped on an extra scoop of relish and handed it to his shy customer before attempting to give him back his change. The kid refused it, pointing at the cooking hotdogs instead.
"More? Well, never let it be said that old Charlie didn't aim to please his customers."
Energetic head bobbing, then the hot dog disappeared under the brim of the witch hat. The kid must have wolfed it down because less than a minute later both hands were being held out again, with another fiver clutched in one of them.
"Okay, bub."
The vendor quickly produced another piece de resistance and the process was repeated until slightly more than twenty-five dollars worth of hot dog were resting comfortably in the Data's stomach.
Mmmm! He felt so much better! Wizardmon hadn't meant to be such a greedy hogmon---eating so quickly his mouth stitches were tingling from the strain---, but those things had tasted so fabulous he'd lost all patience! He blushed a little as his personal conversion system burbled noisily in contentment, busily converting mass into more energy just waiting to be used. Bios, but if he didn't feel lighter than a Birdramon's feather again! Now he could search for a way home a lot faster.
After he made sure that Nick was all right.
And he was about to do just that when two menacing-looking humans walked up from behind him, bumping him aside as they went to either side of the vendor. The Champion got a bad feeling from both---and not just from their rudeness. He decided that maybe he'd just wait around a little longer to see what was up.
One of the humans was colored in shades of brown, the other had black hair with paler skin and appeared to be somewhat older---at least, he was the taller of the two. Their minds were on the same thing everyone else's had been on as he approached the cart. But instead of producing a bit of paper, 'Black Hair' brought out a serrated-edged knife while 'Brown' gave the digimon a viscious kick that sent him sprawling against a nearby brick wall.
"Get lost, kid!" Black Hair snarled at him.
Shocked, the digimon focused more intently on reading the humans. The new ones' thoughts were filled with violence. And the vendor reeked of fear as the knife was held before his face.
The human cook was afraid for his life!
Wizardmon considered the ramifications of acting and decided that any reprecussions were worth it if he could help the one named Charlie.
The brown human on the right--the one who had kicked him--was grabbing all the paper pieces from the cart and stuffing them in his jacket while the other kept the knife to the vendor's throat while helping himself to a half-made bun.
"Looks like business has been good, Charlie. You won't mind if we share in the profits a bit, will you?"
Dusting himself off, Wizardmon got up and went back over to the cart, the humans too busy to pay attention to the fact that his feet were floating several inches off the ground as he hovered there, staring at them.
"Hey! Marty---that weirdo's back!" Black Hair, better known as Samuel Patterson, the leader of the two, said as he spotted the slightly bent tip of Wizardmon's hat from behind the other.
Joey Martinez turned around with a scowl on his face. "So he is. Pocito must be some shade of loco or a dimwit, eh?" He advanced on the 'little one'. "Maybe I teach him to mind his elders better."
Wizardmon knew the knife was the more dangerous as the vendor had no way to realistically defend himself from it. Which meant it needed to be dealt with first. Throwing his left hand forward he released a ball of weak energy at the weapon, careful not to directly hit the human behind it. (People, he recalled, were frail compared to digimon; slow to heal and easy to hurt. He didn't want to delete them by using too much power. Viral though these might be, it was not his place to judge them in their own world. The only concern was to stop them from injurying the vendor.)
The knife heated up just enough to make its owner drop it, its strait shape forming into a harmless circle even before it hit the pavement.
At the same time the digimon twisted to avoid the brown human's fist as it headed toward's his face.
Joey was surpised to find himself punching nothing but air. Pulling back, he aimed a blow at Wizardmon's mid-section only to find it connecting instead with the funny-looking ornament of the staff. A jolt shot through his arm, making his whole body spasm before the sensation faded.
"Yaa! Madre, Sam! This muchacho's packing some sort of stunner or something!" he yelped, shaking his numb hand.
Now that he had their attention, Wizardmon decided it was time to get these human Virals away from their would-be victim. And he knew just the lure to use.
Backing up, the digimon gestured. Another blue spark appeared as before, this time producing a large wad of five-dollar bills which he flaunted in front of the thieves before turning tail and running into an alley.
Samuel Patterson's eye's had lit up with greed as he'd noted how much money the weird kid had just shown them.
"Get him!"
Joey dutifully followed his cohort's instructions and ran after the fleeing 'muchacho', his partner deciding to join in the pursuit as well since other people were starting to notice what was going on.
Charlie leaned against his cart as the surge of adrenaline that had been running through his veins wore off.
That had been too close!
One of the car drivers yelled before driving off that he'd seen the robbery and had called it in. Shaking, the vendor acknowledged the driver as he stooped to pick up the abandoned knife. It had firmed into its new shape--that of an unusual bracelet. Mouthing a prayer, he tossed it into his cart to show to the police. Let them figure it out. He didn't want to know.
__________________________________
The cloaked figure was keeping to the shadows as he crept along various building walls. There were not many people to avoid and, fortunately, most didn't even give him more than a second glance so busy were they with their own doings. A dirty human sleeping in the gutter had a box of paper sticks filled with curled, tiny brown leaves, fermented grain juice, and a half-eaten hot dog. The white and yellow stick things smelled horrid, and he didn't care for alcohol's effects (being as he'd always believed it important to have your wits about you at all times), but the hot dog was spicy and felt good in his stomach, which happily set about transforming the carbon molecules into useable energy. In payment for the meal, the digimon used a simple magic spell to mend the man's torn clothing. That done, he continued his exploration of the city.
He didn't get more than a block before his nose caught a tantalizing whiff not unlike that which had belonged to what he'd just consumed.
More of the yummy food stuffs nearby? And these smelled absolutely heavenly! Wizardmon decided to take a short detour to investigate. At a street intersection a vendor was calling out "Charlie's Chili Dogs!" to pedestrians that came his way. Mouth watering, yet wary, he settled down in a dark corner to observe. Every once and a while a human would approach the cart to hand the white-aproned man some paper taken from their pant's pocket. White-apron would then put together a hot dog and hand it back, the recipients consuming the dogs while walking away. And the eaters thoughts radiated satisfaction.
So all he needed was colored paper to get re-energized like everyone else?
Making sure as little of his skin showed as possible, Wizardmon ambled closer as another customer came by. He used a bit of levitation to pull some of the paper from the unsuspecting human's pocket, paying close attention to what the paper looked like and how it compared to the one the human was holding onto in his hand.
Intricate design. And on both sides too. Hmm..
Slipping the paper back into its place, the digimon made a twisty gesture with his hands. There was a flash of blue light which faded to leave a perfect Canadian five-dollar bill behind.. Making sure his hair still covered his tell-tale ears, which he kept flat to his skull, he walked over to the vendor, head bowed.
"Hey, kid, haven't seen you around before. Nice outfit you got there." Charlie waggled the business end of his cooking fork at the digimon in mock threat. "But it ain't Halloween, so none of that trick or treat line. It's cold cash today."
Wizardmon responded to the mild sarcasm by extending his arm and gently moving his hand to indicate the piece of paper it held.
"Oh, so this isn't a hold up and you want to purchase a hot dog, eh? That's different," the vendor smiled. "Business been good and now you want eats for your dough."
Business? Dough? The Data blinked. He was not a baker and had no dough. He merely craved some of those chili dog things. Just what was the human referring to? He tried reading his mind, but the man's thoughts were only on fixing his food and getting home at a decent hour. Wizardmon sighed. When he found Nick, he'd have to ask him, since he didn't want to speak out before humans lest they somehow realized he wasn't one of them.
"I suppose you want the works?" the vendor asked as he deftly inserted a weiner into its bun. Predictably, the 'kid' nodded. (He couldn't tell whether male or female; today's 'anything goes' hairstyles made determining that a haphazard guess at best.) Well, regardless of their gender, street kids were always starving, Charlie Barnes knew. The vendor's gruff exterior hid a sympathetic heart. Once, he'd been stuck on the the wrong side of a homeless, too. Only back then, you could generally tell the boys from the girls right away, Charlie thought somewhat ruefully. He heaped on an extra scoop of relish and handed it to his shy customer before attempting to give him back his change. The kid refused it, pointing at the cooking hotdogs instead.
"More? Well, never let it be said that old Charlie didn't aim to please his customers."
Energetic head bobbing, then the hot dog disappeared under the brim of the witch hat. The kid must have wolfed it down because less than a minute later both hands were being held out again, with another fiver clutched in one of them.
"Okay, bub."
The vendor quickly produced another piece de resistance and the process was repeated until slightly more than twenty-five dollars worth of hot dog were resting comfortably in the Data's stomach.
Mmmm! He felt so much better! Wizardmon hadn't meant to be such a greedy hogmon---eating so quickly his mouth stitches were tingling from the strain---, but those things had tasted so fabulous he'd lost all patience! He blushed a little as his personal conversion system burbled noisily in contentment, busily converting mass into more energy just waiting to be used. Bios, but if he didn't feel lighter than a Birdramon's feather again! Now he could search for a way home a lot faster.
After he made sure that Nick was all right.
And he was about to do just that when two menacing-looking humans walked up from behind him, bumping him aside as they went to either side of the vendor. The Champion got a bad feeling from both---and not just from their rudeness. He decided that maybe he'd just wait around a little longer to see what was up.
One of the humans was colored in shades of brown, the other had black hair with paler skin and appeared to be somewhat older---at least, he was the taller of the two. Their minds were on the same thing everyone else's had been on as he approached the cart. But instead of producing a bit of paper, 'Black Hair' brought out a serrated-edged knife while 'Brown' gave the digimon a viscious kick that sent him sprawling against a nearby brick wall.
"Get lost, kid!" Black Hair snarled at him.
Shocked, the digimon focused more intently on reading the humans. The new ones' thoughts were filled with violence. And the vendor reeked of fear as the knife was held before his face.
The human cook was afraid for his life!
Wizardmon considered the ramifications of acting and decided that any reprecussions were worth it if he could help the one named Charlie.
The brown human on the right--the one who had kicked him--was grabbing all the paper pieces from the cart and stuffing them in his jacket while the other kept the knife to the vendor's throat while helping himself to a half-made bun.
"Looks like business has been good, Charlie. You won't mind if we share in the profits a bit, will you?"
Dusting himself off, Wizardmon got up and went back over to the cart, the humans too busy to pay attention to the fact that his feet were floating several inches off the ground as he hovered there, staring at them.
"Hey! Marty---that weirdo's back!" Black Hair, better known as Samuel Patterson, the leader of the two, said as he spotted the slightly bent tip of Wizardmon's hat from behind the other.
Joey Martinez turned around with a scowl on his face. "So he is. Pocito must be some shade of loco or a dimwit, eh?" He advanced on the 'little one'. "Maybe I teach him to mind his elders better."
Wizardmon knew the knife was the more dangerous as the vendor had no way to realistically defend himself from it. Which meant it needed to be dealt with first. Throwing his left hand forward he released a ball of weak energy at the weapon, careful not to directly hit the human behind it. (People, he recalled, were frail compared to digimon; slow to heal and easy to hurt. He didn't want to delete them by using too much power. Viral though these might be, it was not his place to judge them in their own world. The only concern was to stop them from injurying the vendor.)
The knife heated up just enough to make its owner drop it, its strait shape forming into a harmless circle even before it hit the pavement.
At the same time the digimon twisted to avoid the brown human's fist as it headed toward's his face.
Joey was surpised to find himself punching nothing but air. Pulling back, he aimed a blow at Wizardmon's mid-section only to find it connecting instead with the funny-looking ornament of the staff. A jolt shot through his arm, making his whole body spasm before the sensation faded.
"Yaa! Madre, Sam! This muchacho's packing some sort of stunner or something!" he yelped, shaking his numb hand.
Now that he had their attention, Wizardmon decided it was time to get these human Virals away from their would-be victim. And he knew just the lure to use.
Backing up, the digimon gestured. Another blue spark appeared as before, this time producing a large wad of five-dollar bills which he flaunted in front of the thieves before turning tail and running into an alley.
Samuel Patterson's eye's had lit up with greed as he'd noted how much money the weird kid had just shown them.
"Get him!"
Joey dutifully followed his cohort's instructions and ran after the fleeing 'muchacho', his partner deciding to join in the pursuit as well since other people were starting to notice what was going on.
Charlie leaned against his cart as the surge of adrenaline that had been running through his veins wore off.
That had been too close!
One of the car drivers yelled before driving off that he'd seen the robbery and had called it in. Shaking, the vendor acknowledged the driver as he stooped to pick up the abandoned knife. It had firmed into its new shape--that of an unusual bracelet. Mouthing a prayer, he tossed it into his cart to show to the police. Let them figure it out. He didn't want to know.
__________________________________