Heath hums, wandering around the hallways of the arena they find themselves in, hands pressed into his pockets as he tries to relax after his latest match. It's quiet, calm, considering the show's over and most of the wrestlers are gone or leaving. He likes it like this, finding a bit of a respite from the volume of his thoughts as he listens to music as loud as he likes in his earphones.
That is until there's a horribly loud crashing noise somewhere behind him and Heath hisses, leaping instinctively and pulling his earbuds out before spinning around. He doesn't see anything but stumbles forward anyway, letting Lopmon out of his digivice just in case. "What was that?"
"I don't know, but I sense something," his partner says, frowning. "Data... but it's not from any of us digidestined. What the hell..." They continue on, listening and watching, until a highpitched yell comes from the side and bubbles burst out of nowhere, popping against Heath's shirt and immediately eating through it, Heath yelling and flailing as he tears the fabric off and gapes.
"What the hell, man, I liked that shirt!" he cries until realizing his partner's run forward, staring at something. "What is it?" he hisses, following on almost a tiptoe.
"Paomon," Lopmon says. "It's not organic, a human created him."
"Wha?!" Heath sputters.
Lopmon slips between two boxes and Heath can do nothing but stand there and wait, tense and fearful for his partner, when suddenly he hears a familiar cry and then... "Petit twister!" There's a flash of light and data streams out between the boxes, Lopmon quickly reappearing a moment later. "Basically a baby digimon," he explains grimly. "Probably drawn by all of the digidestined in this arena. Someone created him and he... his powers were impressed for his power level. If he had digivolved while on earth..." Shuddering Lopmon pokes at Heath's shirt. "You're lucky his attack didn't touch your skin."
Heath huffs, pulling the shirt up and staring through the hole in the fabric. "No kidding! But everything's normal now?"
Lopmon gazes around. Nods. "I don't feel any other data like that. But the arena's gonna have some damage to repair."
Heath turns and gasps loudly, realizing there's a sizeable hole in the roof where Paomon's acidic attack had ate through. "Damn! Let's get out of here before someone tries to blame this on us," he says, quickly sending Lopmon back into his digivice before making a run for it.
