The screams of innocent digimon could be heard throughout the entire village. The native digimon ran as far as they could, screaming and sobbing and wailing for mercy, but when they realized there was no escape, their protests stopped. The huts burned, houses were set aflame, and the remains of deleted digimon hung above the orange fire, shimmering under the dawn.
Hangyomon loved it when things worked out his way.
The fish-man digimon grinned wildly. Another day, another sacked village, and he couldn't wait to reap his rewards. He had specifically told his subordinates to save the prettiest digimon in the village for him, so he could enjoy the pleasurable company of women when plundering and pillaging no longer satisfied him.
"Let me go," growled his hostage. Hangyomon eyed the Frigimon with disinterest. Frigimon had been one of the few digimon in this entire town that had dared to stand against him and his brethren Hangyomon. Their resistance consisted mostly of Child-levels, so it hadn't taken too much effort to get rid of them. Frigimon, on the other hand, proved differently. It had taken two of Hangymon's men to get him down, but then Hangyomon asked them to spare the snow bear's life.
Hangyomon grinned his crooked smile. "But the festivities aren't over yet, Frigimon!" He cackled, slapping his hostage on the back. "Liven up, and enjoy the show."
"This is madness!" roared Frigimon, struggling with his bindings. "We've done nothing to start this attack! We sent our peace offerings with your master! You're violating our contract with him!" Frigimon grimaced and tried to break his arms free, to no avail. "When I get my hands on you - !"
Hangyomon clapped his webbed hands together. "Oh, would you look at the time, Frigimon?" He pointed to his bare wrist in a mocking manner. "It's time to beat some sense into you low-lives."
Frigimon spat. The saliva froze the moment it touched the scales of Hangyomon's foot, causing the fish-man to wince. "The only low-life around here is you," Frigimon hissed.
Hangyomon glared and turned his attention back towards the village. One by one, his subordinates returned. They lead groups of surviving digimon into the town square, and eyed their leader with anticipation. Hangyomon smiled to himself. It was time to start the show.
"Listen up!" he shouted, silencing the survivors. "Do you know why we're here today?" He was met with silence, though he could feel Frigimon glare at him behind his scaly back. "Because the digimon you see before you," he gestured towards Frigimon, "is a traitor to our lord and master!" Hangyomon turned towards Frigimon. "And do you know what the price for treachery is?"
"I'll kill you with my bare hands!" roared Frigimon.
Hangyomon lazily pointed his harpoon gun towards Frigimon's head, and shot him. The crowd gasped in horror. His subordinates snickered. Hangyomon yawned and slung his weapon over his shoulder, eyeing the terrified masses of the village. "Does anyone else want to be a traitor?"
They all shook their heads. Hangyomon chuckled. "Good, good." He motioned for one of his subordinates to approach him. A smaller, younger Hangyomon kneeled before him, presenting Hangyomon with a banner. The fish-man digimon grinned and placed it into the soil. The wind blew, revealing the banner's emblem: a black kraken on a golden field.
"As of today," shouted Hangyomon, "this town is under the direct rule of Lord Marine Devimon, the Emperor of the Sea!"
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Ocean Diaries: Sydney 2001.
By Tetra Seleno
Part of Lord Archive's Diaries Universe, and used with his permission.
Entry 01: Into The Blue
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Surfing had to be one of the greatest sports ever invented by man. An eleven-year-old boy with brown eyes and curly hair of the same color outstretched his arms, and smiled. Sure, he loved football as much as any kid his age would. But for Dingo, surfing was something special. No, it wasn't something special – it was a way of life. When he surfed, he felt at peace, as if he was one with the world and the forces of nature were at his fingertips.
Dingo closed his eyes, perfectly relaxed, and lost control of his board.
He tumbled through the water, and became swept up in the ocean's current. He gasped for air as his lungs burned and cried for oxygen, but the current dragged him further and further beneath the waves. Bugger, thought Dingo, barely managing to think through the black haze that clouded his mind. What a way to go, huh?
A pair of strong, tanned hands plunged into the sea, wrapping themselves around Dingo's chest. Before Dingo knew what was happening, he was back on the sandy beach, coughing up water from his lungs and greedily gasping for much-needed air. Panting heavily, Dingo sat up, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Thanks, Daniel."
His sixteen-year-old brother sighed heavily. "Geez, Derek, give me a bloody heart attack, why don't you?" He ran a hand through his short hair. "What am I going to do with you?"
A wave crashed against the beach of the Sydney Harbor. The water crept up the sands, tickling Dingo's toes. Internally, Dingo grimaced. He knew a Daniel scolding was coming, he was sure of it, pigs would be flying and it would snow in hell if Daniel didn't scold him. The most he could do was prolong the inevitable.
That was what he hoped, anyway.
"Well, you could… I don't know, not tell Mum and Dad about this?" Dingo smiled as wide as he possibly could, but Daniel didn't return the sentiment. Dingo grumbled and crossed his arms. "It was an accident. It could've happened to anyone, yeah?" Then he stuck out his tongue. "And for the last time, it's Dingo, not Derek." He absolutely hated being called by his first name.
Daniel shook his head in disapproval. "Derek – "
"Dingo, damn it!"
" – Dingo," Daniel sighed, "it didn't happen to anyone. It happened to you, and that's the problem." Sighing again, he clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'm just… worried about you, you know? You're just a kid, and you can get in to all kinds of trouble."
It annoyed Dingo to no end when Daniel got up on that high horse of his and started reprimanding him like his father did. What gave Daniel that right, to act like their father? It was bad enough that Daniel was an infinitely better student than Dingo could ever hope to be, why add insult to injury and treat him like a son instead of a brother?
"Fine," Dingo scowled. Begrudgingly he allowed Daniel to lift him up to his feet. His older brother tsk-ed, shook his head, and handed Dingo's surfboard back to him.
"We should be heading home anyway," shrugged Daniel, carrying his own board. "We told Mum and Dad we'd be home by dusk, remember?" As it would happen, the sun was indeed setting in the distance, transforming the sky into beautiful hues of scarlet, gold, and violet.
Dingo admired the twilit sky, taking in its natural beauty. "Can't we stay and watch the sunset?" He offered his brother a toothy grin. "Do you remember the last time we did this?" Daniel said nothing. "It was last year," Dingo continued, undaunted, "at the end of summer. Heck, the sky looks exactly like it did a year ago!"
His brother, visibly annoyed, ran a hand through his short hair. "Mum and Dad are expecting us to be home for dinner, Derek." Dingo winced from the coldness of his brother's statement. Meanwhile, his brother released a sigh of frustration. "But whatever. Stay out as long as you bloody like. See if I care," spat Daniel, turning away in a huff and leaving Dingo behind.
Dingo made no effort to stop him. When Daniel got mad, he got mad, and Dingo knew from experience that reasoning with him would only provoke Daniel more. For now, it was best to leave Daniel alone and give him some time to cool off.
At least he could watch the sunset in peace now. Grinning, Dingo pulled a white tanktop over his head and plopped down onto the sand, his board standing upright beside him. He outstretched his legs and folded his arms behind his head, returning to that relaxed feeling he felt before. Dingo wiggled his toes in amusement. This is the life, he thought.
Suddenly, a silver streak sped across the twilit heavens. Dingo gasped in awe. A shooting star, and during sunset, no less! Never before had Dingo heard of such a thing. It seemed too good to be true, Dingo mused, watching the shooting star pass overhead. However, as Dingo watched it, he noticed something – it was rapidly descending towards the beach.
"What in the world?" he whispered, sitting upright. The shooting star continued its descent until finally, it crashed onto the beach, a bit further down from where Dingo was. "Bloody hell!" shouted an alarmed Dingo. Now things didn't seem too good to be true, they seemed unreal.
Dingo rubbed his eyes. He had to be dreaming. I'm definitely dreaming, he assured himself, I'm definitely dreaming. He waited a few moments, to see if anyone would come. They didn't. Dingo bit his lip. Maybe it was some kind of meteor? Dingo watched the smoke rise from the crater left behind from the impact, weighing his options. It couldn't hurt to check it out, right?
"It definitely wouldn't hurt," Dingo said to himself, picking up his surfboard. "I mean, what could go wrong?"
He jogged over to the crash site, Daniel completely forgotten from his mind.
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"Big brother, big brother, I want some ice cream!" whined five-year-old Suzie Ashton, a short little girl with blue eyes and blonde hair tied into two pigtails. She was wearing a purple dress, and stockings were visibly covering her legs. The little girl looked up pleadingly at her big brother. "Pleeeeeeeeeeeease?"
Suzie's big brother, also known as Davy Ashton, chuckled. A ten-year-old, Davy shared the same blue eyes as Suzie, but he covered his dirty blonde hair with a green visor. He tugged nervously at the collar of his yellow t-shirt. "It's pretty late," he said, "I dunno if Mom'll be happy we spoiled our appetites…"
"But Davyyyyyyy," Suzie pouted, "we never get to have ice cream!" She took Davy's hands into her own. "Please? I promise I'll be good!" She nodded sternly to affirm this statement, as if she were marching off into battle. Davy chuckled to himself. Suzie's sweet tooth would be her downfall.
He decided to go along with her game. "Do you pinky swear, Suzie?" he said with much seriousness, yet he couldn't help but crack a smile at the silliness of it all.
She nodded rapidly. "Uh-huh! Pinky swear!" Suzie extended her pinky and Davy, laughing, wrapped his own around hers.
"Then it's a deal, and it'll be our secret, too," Davy said, ruffling Suzie's hair. "Shall we race?" he offered. Suzie beamed and dashed away, giggling to herself. "Hey, that's not fair!" Davy shouted, feigning anger, "we're supposed to go 'ready, steady, go' first!" Suzie stopped in her tracks, stuck her tongue at him, and ran away one again, giggling all the while. "Cheater," teased Davy, catching up to his sister.
Admittedly, times like these made Davy happiest. Even when it was something as trivial as this, playing tag with his baby sister on the boardwalk by the beach, Davy knew deep in his heart that he was happiest here. Often he was so busy with their home schooling, he scarcely had time for a little bit of rest and relaxation. Their father, David Ashton, was a prominent and well-known gynecologist at the Sydney Sexual Health Center, and he only wanted the best for his two darling children.
Of course, this came at the expense of extremely limited social contact with other children, Davy could count on one hand the number of times he spent time with someone who wasn't in his immediate family, but he didn't mind it all that much. Well, Suzie did, but Davy loved his father. Whatever David Ashton, Sr., thought was best, then Davy thought it would be best, too.
Shaking his head, he noticed Suzie had stopped running down the boardwalk. "Hey, what gives?" he joked, catching up with her. He pretended to pant heavily, like he was out of shape. "The race wasn't over yet," he mock-huffed, "don't tell me you're quitting!"
A look of simple, pure childish joy was plastered onto Suzie's pudgy face. "Davy, look," she whispered, pointing towards the sunset. "It's a shooting star!" Davy blinked. Why on Earth would a shooting star appear now of all times? Sure, it was sunset, but that was half the problem. There wouldn't be a shooting star during this time of day.
Shrugging, Davy looked down at his sister. "Why don't you make a wish?" Suzie nodded and folded her hands together, whispering to herself. Davy stuck his hands in the pockets of his shorts and watched the shooting star streak past them. Then, it swerved downwards and crashed onto a strip of beach in the distance.
"Whoa!" both Ashtons said together. People around them gave the children odd looks, making Davy flush. "Come on, Suzie," he urged, "let's go get the ice cream."
"I don't want ice cream any more," Suzie pouted, stamping a foot, "I want to go see the shooting star!"
"No," Davy said instantly, frowning, "it's too dangerous."
"Aww, c'mon, big brother! Please?" She pouted some more, sniffing and wiping an eye. "We don't have to get ice cream, Mama won't like it if we do." Davy rolled his eyes – kids. "C'mon, Davy, don't you wanna see it?"
Suzie had a point. Part of him really wanted to see the fallen shooting star, deranged idea as it was. There was something fascinating about it, though – something strangely compelling he couldn't quite put his finger on. The young boy bit his lip and waited a moment. "Okay, okay, but only for five minutes. Then we head home. Got it?"
"Yay!" Suzie giggled, hopping down the steps. Davy groaned and smacked his forehead. The things he did for family.
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There was a certain, almost golden hue to the Sydney Opera House that evening. Several casual passersby stopped and remarked at the eerie glow the building had taken on that evening. However, a girl standing outside the building was preoccupied with an entirely different matter. Kristen Howard eyed a sign posted outside the building, and bit her lip. She was quite tall for her age, and her hair was so long it touched the small of her back. Dressed in a hot pink t-shirt, sandals, and a jean skirt, she looked one or two years older than she actually was.
Eventually, Kristen sighed, and hung her head in defeat. "What I wouldn't give to see The Eighth Wonder this weekend," she murmured. Depression quickly washed over the girl – she was a shameless opera fanatic, which was odd for someone of her age. Her depression was quickly replaced by a daydream – she saw herself, much older than she was now, standing on stage before hundreds, no, thousands of people, singing her heart out while they cheered and called her name.
Kristen sighed wistfully, returning back to reality. Kristen was a part of the choir at her school, but she wasn't very good – true, she was a decent singer, but there were better ones. Oh well. Dreams were only dreams, and there was nothing wrong with them. Humming to herself, Kristen turned away from the Opera House and strolled away.
She was well on her way back home when Kristen heard a voice calling her name. "Hey! Hey! Kris!" came the shouts. Frowning, Kristen turned to see the small, stout form of Mat Inglesworth, a classmate and neighbor of hers. It looked like he'd been running around Sydney all day trying to find her. "You got a minute?" he panted, wiping the sweat from his brow.
"I guess," Kristen said, blinking. "What, are you training for a marathon?"
Mat shook his head. "I wanted," he panted, "to give you something."
Cue another blink from Kristen. "Oh. Well. That's nice of you, Mat." Internally, she knew where this was going. It was common knowledge how Mat held a deep but unrequited crush on Kristen. She had never been too interested in him, though – not only was he practically family to her, he was also kind of plain-looking. So not the kind of guy she wanted. Still, she was unsure of how to respond or act in this situation, Kristen's brain switched to autopilot. She smiled sweetly at the roly-poly boy and haughtily flipped her hair.
Mat gulped and tugged at the collar of his shirt. "It's not much," he blurted, eyes staring straight at the sidewalk, "but I just – I thought you'd like it." He clumsily reached into his pocket and revealed a crumpled red rose. "Oh, no!" wailed Mat, staring at the bruised flower in horror. "How could I be so dumb!"
"Aw, don't worry about it, Matty," shrugged Kristen. She gently patted the stout boy on the shoulder and took the crumpled rose into her hands. "It's still nice," she lied. That seemed to cheer up her neighbor, since he smiled at her. "So I'll see you tomorrow, then?" Kristen asked, twirling the flower between her fingers. She watched the battered petals slowly fall to the ground.
Mat nodded proudly, looking pleased with his actions. The children waved good-bye to each other, and as soon as Mat was out of sight, Kristen threw the flower away into the closest garbage can. "Sorry, Mat," she said calmly, "but you're just not my type."
The young girl sighed and looked up towards the sky. There, she saw a shooting star fly across the heavens, leaving light blue sparkles in its wake. "Beautiful," she said breathlessly, entranced by the shooting star's wonder. Ignoring the fact that it was still daytime, Kristen reveled in its splendor until she saw it fall towards the beaches. "Whoa!"
Kristen stared for a moment. She looked from side-to-side – how come no one else was commenting about it? Weird. Full of curiosity, Kristen turned on her heel and headed in the opposite direction, away from home and towards the ocean.
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Lowen dropped pieces of breadcrumbs onto the ground before him, patiently waiting for some kind of bird to find them. He was a ten-year-old boy with thick black hair and dark eyes. Though it was fairly hot out, Lowen wore a dark green sweatshirt, black shorts, and worn sneakers. His excuse was that at night it got fairly chilly outside, and since he spent most of his summer outdoors, his parents went along with it.
At last, a lone bird flew towards the crumbs Lowen laid out for it. It hungrily pecked away at the offered food, which in turn made Lowen smile. "Hey there, little guy," he said in his soft voice, "are you enjoying the meal?" The bird chirped in what Lowen hoped was a yes.
Slowly, Lowen reached for his sketchpad and began to trace a picture of the sight before him. He loved to draw – anything involving a piece of paper and some kind of utensil – whether it be a crayon, a pencil, a pen, or whatever he held in his hand – he felt satisfied. Sometimes Lowen could be found daydreaming at home or in class and suddenly be struck with inspiration, and the boy would instantly be drawing whatever he saw or thought of.
The bird extended its wings and flew, but not away from Lowen – instead, it flew towards him. Blinking, Lowen watched as the tiny bird perched itself on his shoulder and began to chirp loudly. He paused for a moment, and then he reached out to gently stroke the bird with a single feather. Lowen feared the bird would fly away, but – and what a surprise it was – it did not, allowing Lowen to pet its chest. He smiled, extending his free hand towards the bird. Within his palm he held a large breadcrumb, which the bird delightedly ate.
Lowen felt someone watching him from behind. With a frown, he turned to look, only to see two children younger than he was giving him funny looks. He blinked at them, and the two children began whispering to one another, pointing at Lowen's face. When Lowen frowned at them, both children ran away as quickly as they could. It took a moment for him to realize what had just happened, and when he did, he sighed, bringing a hand to his forehead.
Sometimes, he wished he hadn't been born an Aborigine.
The bird fluttered away, alarmed by his sudden movement. Without anything left to sketch, Lowen packed up his things and left the park, throwing the hood of his sweatshirt over his head. At least this way, any looks he got would be because of his odd dress, not because of his race.
His father had always tried to instill in him the fact that race didn't matter in the real world. It was common knowledge how most Aborigine ended up dropping out of secondary schools, obtained meager income, and fell into a life of crime or substance abuse. But Lowen's father had managed go above and beyond all that – he actually made something of himself and became a lawyer. Lowen's father always said that if you prove yourself, then race, class, economic stability – none of it matters.
Lowen wanted to believe that, he really did. When he was younger, he accepted his father's word at face value. But then he saw that racism towards the Aborigine still existed in Australia, even after decades of progress. Lowen shook his head. He was too young to be thinking about things he like this. He should be out playing instead of being upset.
Eventually the dark-skinned boy arrived at the boardwalk by Sydney Harbor, Lowen reached for his sketchpad once again. While he wasn't very good at portraits, Lowen prided his talent for landscapes. And it had been a while since he had drawn one of a sunset, too, so where would the harm be in that? He carefully studied the twilit sky, the crashing waves, and the smooth sand before his hand immediately set to work.
In the distance, he saw a shooting star descend from the heavens. Lowen blinked and inspiration washed over him – maybe this new landscape could have the shooting star in it? He grinned and began adding the silver streak into the picture. Then, Lowen heard a loud crash. Lowen looked up from his sketch to see the smoldering remains of something that had made impact with the beach.
He was quiet for a moment. "Oh, what the hell," he shrugged, hopping over the wooden ledge and running towards the impact site.
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When Dingo reached the smoking remains of the shooting star, he couldn't believe his eyes. The lanky boy whistled loudly. "Not something you see every day," he said to himself, scratching his neck. And what a sight it was – the crater was several feet wide and several feet deep, a column of black smoke arising from it.
"Gosh, what happened here?"
Dingo blinked. Apparently he wasn't the only one who saw this thing, because a pretty girl with long dark hair stood not too far from where Dingo was. The girl took notice of Dingo's stare and flashed a bright smile at him. "Hi," she said cheerfully, "you saw the shooting star, too?"
He nodded. "Sure did. Wondering what the heck it's doing here, but man, what a sight it was!" he exclaimed, flailing his arms around in the air. The pretty girl giggled and gave Dingo a funny look. Sheepish, Dingo outstretched a hand towards her. "The name's Dingo."
The girl cocked an eyebrow, but shook his hand regardless. "Kristen," she said, "though I can't say my name is as unusual as yours."
Dingo grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."
A short boy with dark skin was the next to arrive at the scene. He stared at it in awe for a moment, ignoring Dingo and Kristen completely. Then he reached into the bag on his shoulder, pulled out a sketchbook, and began doodling in it, occasionally looking up to look at the crater. Leaving Kristen alone for a moment, Dingo walked over to the boy, smiled, and outstretched a hand. "Hi! I'm Dingo."
The boy looked up from his sketch to look at Dingo for a moment, then shook his hand. "Lowen," he said softly.
"Big brother, look!"
All three children turned to see two more children running towards the small crater. There was a considerable age difference between them – the older was a boy wearing a visor, and the younger was a girl with pigtails and wearing a sundress.
The older sibling panted heavily. "I see it, I see it!" The younger one ran up as close as she could towards the crater, staring at it with a child's wonder.
The older one sighed and stood up. "Kids," he shrugged, "what're you gonna do with 'em? I'm Davy, by the way, and my sister's name is Suzie."
Dingo nodded. "I'm Dingo," he said, "and that's Kristen, and he's Lowen." Kristen waved at the new boy while Lowen merely nodded and went back to his sketch.
The little girl gasped loudly. "Davy!" exclaimed Suzie, "Davy, you gotta see this!"
The remaining four children turned their heads to see five circles of light ascend from the crater. They flashed brightly and flew into the hands of each child, who stared at them with wonder. Eventually the light faded, revealing a small, watch-shaped device with an LCD screen. Strange characters were printed along its sides, and it was transparent blue in color.
"The hell is this?" asked Dingo.
Then the ground beneath them began to shake and rumble. The crater expanded several sizes larger than it was, engulfing the children. They yelled and screamed and called for help, but the sand pulled them deeper into its clutches. A light surrounded the children, and the last thing Dingo saw was the twilit sky before he was pulled into oblivion.
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Author's Notes:
And thus we begin Ocean Diaries. I'm sure most of you remember Dingo ( or 'Derek', as the dub called him ), although Davy, Suzie, and Kristen ( albeit with shorter hair – more on that in later entries ) were shown briefly on the cruise ship carrying the stray Digimon. Davy and Suzie's characters were created by Archive, respectively, while Kristen's character is my own. Lowen is entirely a product of my own.
Loads and loads of special thanks go to Lord Archive, who greenlighted this series for me. Another round of applause goes to my friend Todd, who helped me with some grammar issues, and to Jake Delfeir, an Australian native, who gave me some help with slang and culture.
A few notes regarding a couple things mentioned in this chapter:
The Eighth Wonder is an opera written by Alan John, debuting at the Sydney Opera House in 1995. Basically, the opera tells the story and history of the Sydney Opera House.
Since 1968, Australian laws have gradually bestowed more and more rights to the indigenous Aborigine people. Despite these advances, they are still met with racial prejudice. Kind of like how the African-Americans were treated after the Emancipation Proclamation in the United States.
Also, the first person to guess correctly where Marine Devimon's emblem comes from gets a big cookie.
Next Time – Entry 02: Darker Waters
The children find themselves in a strange, new environment: the Digital World. One by one, the children encounter and befriend some of the natives, the digimon. However, Dingo doesn't have it so easy – especially with a temperamental Ganimon. And just who is the Emperor of the Sea?