It almost feels weird being back on earth after everything that had happened with Ancient Wiisemon. CM Punk stands on the balcony of his Chicago apartment and stares out into the setting sun, breathing in deep, slow. Feels his heart fluctuate between calm and resting to elevated whenever he thinks about how close they all came to dying. If not for Alphamon, Apollomon, MetalSeadramon, and Shoutmon, he has no doubt that they probably would have, easily.

The fact that they had all worked together to thwart the massive evil Digimon's plot is still incredible to him. It's hard enough to get ordinary people to work together, but a handful of wrestlers who nine times out of ten hate each other for competitive or financial reasons? Yeah, wow. He thinks he'll probably always be more than a little impressed by all of that.

He's still lost in thought when Mokumon joins him, making soft, inquisitive noises and butting his head up against Punk's palm. Punk chuckles and lifts him up, resting him on top of his head. "How's the view from up there?" he teases the little guy, grinning when Mokumon hops up and down, messing his hair up real good. "Glad you lke it. Least I can do after everything you've done for me."

Responding verbally in this form is a little too much for the baby digimon so he chatters for a little bit before snuggling into Punks's hair and purring happily as they watch the sun set behind the Chicago horizon, casting a slowly fading glow over the skyline, easing carefully from a bright, fiery orange to a quiet, muted purple before fading entirely to black.

From there, Punk takes Mokumon inside to eat and finally get some sleep, eager to get back to as normal a schedule as they can get as soon as possible, so they can figure out what's next and be ready physically and mentally to return to the digiworld to do what Luke requires of them, to save more digimon in danger of getting eradicated by scum like Ancient Wisemon.