I don't own Digimon Tamers or a lighter. I do, however, work as a "page" as a library, and all "eccentric patron" stories that I will someday incorporate are all true. They're weird places, libraries.
Oh, and anything in italics is Yamaki speaking in this chapter. He's just interjecting in the report; he's not in her head ala "All I Want" or anything.
Judecca, Canto VII: Riley
Technically, Yamaki should be the one writing this report; after all, it's him and not me who qualifies for this little Group...whatever that means. But he's a busy man with a busy man's habits: what he doesn't want to do, he delegates. Most of his job involves delegating, as a matter of fact. And he delegates it all to me.
Are you going to report, then, or just harangue me? No one cares, Riley. Just relate what happened. This is not a diary; it's a record for posterity of the events that occurred. Write it as one.
And you know what else he does after he delegates? He picks on me for doing it wrong. Ah well. Might as well do what Mr. Boss-man says. So here, without further ado, is a highly scientific account of highly scientific events that befell our little group of scientists.
You're on thin ice, woman. You've had your fun. Now do your job!
Fine, fine. After we woke up in the strange house and wandered into the hall (in search of coffee, of all things; I swear the man runs on coffee, cigarettes, and stress), we met our companions. "Met" in this context, for highly scientific clarification purposes, means "joined a congregation of strangely-dressed and in some cases strangely built individuals who all happened to be looking at one man, who was the strangest of the lot." As it sounded like an explanation of some sort was forthcoming, we stuck around. Yamaki hadn't quite woken up at this point, so he wasn't screaming at people yet, and I just wanted to know what was going on but tend to try to keep a cool head in even the oddest of situations. The only thing that happens when I'm tired is...I get sarcastic. So please pardon the nonsense above, and calm down, Yamaki, before you have a heart attack.
About time you decided to behave. I'm in no mood to listen to your attempts to be "playful."
Uh-huh. There we all were, gathered in the hallway: myself, Yamaki (who was starting to realize we weren't in our apartment any longer), the boy with wings (Wild One? I wondered, but said nothing), the purple-haired man, the boy with the mark on his forehead, the blue-haired boy (who by far was the most confused-looking of the lot; the others just looked angry), and the man they were all staring at: the golden-skinned, golden-eyed, white-haired young man leaning heavily on his staff. Despite the sea of angry and confused faces staring up at him, he remained admirably calm.
"What seems to be the trouble?" he asked.
"What do you think?" snapped the winged boy. "One minute I'm taking a break from filing all your stupid papers—not a nap, mind you, just a little break—and the next I'm somewhere I've never seen before, surrounded by people I either don't know or hate!"
"You hate us?" asked the purple-haired man, a slightly pained expression on his face. "Lucemon, um, maybe we should all cooperate since we're all in this together; now I want to hear what Raist--"
"Hah!" Lucemon (so he was a Wild One; all their names end in "mon") shot him a pompous glance. "Together? With you? Never! You fools are the ones responsible for landing me in this stupid job and delaying the advent of my glorious utopia! But just you wait! One day you will all bow to me!"
Sheesh. Anyone who talks like that—especially if they're not human—does not make a very favorable impression on Yamaki. Hearing that, he instantly snapped out of his coffee-coffee-find-the-coffee stupor and launched into full-fledged Mr. Hypnos Founder And Supervisor Mode. "Bow to the likes of you? Never! I'd sooner die than live a slave to scum--"
"Ahem." The golden-skinned man cleared his throat softly, yet the noise cut through the ranting and Yamaki fell silent. "I believe you all wanted to hear my explanation?"
"Yes," growled the boy with the marked forehead. "I want to know everything."
"Here is what I know." The man shifted his staff to his other hand and stood a bit more upright. "I came upon this oppressed world while searching for my stolen home prior to its most recent war. Deciding that upright, repentant citizens such as ourselves could not allow such a despot as the man who claims to rule here to run amok, I gathered to me the members I thought would be most willing to aid my efforts, pulling from not only the Group's current membership but also the "to be filed" piles of potential interviews on our secretary's desk...piles which, I might add, are dangerously copious."
"I'm a busy mon," Lucemon returned sulkily. "The amount of stuff that Namo guy makes me do is nuts."
The man continued as if he had never been interrupted. "Along with a boy I deemed worthy of becoming my apprentice—for I fear my previous student shall not be spreading my teachings, having recently been banned from my collection of arcane knowledge—you are my selections. All of you profess to having strong moral codes, or a healthy sense of responsibility--" his eyes lingered on the purple-haired man, whose face flushed "--or at least detest the idea of an overbearing authority running your lives, though in some cases that could be considered hypocritical." I could feel his eyes boring through Yamaki's sunglasses as he turned to us, and I took Yamaki's hand, squeezed it tight.
"Don't do anything you'll regret later," I murmured.
"I don't need you looking after me," he shot back out of the corner of his mouth, but his arm muscles were tense. His hand twitched; I could tell he wanted his lighter. Poor boy. We'd just met this man; he had no right to be poking fun at Yamaki. How he knew so much about him, though...that was a problem. We went through all that trouble to be top-secret, and people who apparently aren't even from Earth knew about Hypnos? Someone must have messed up, big-time. I just hoped it wasn't me.
"So here you all are," concluded the golden-skinned man, sliding his hands into the sleeves of his long black robes. "Lyon of Grado, the prince who failed his people. This is your chance to save a nation at last." The purple-haired man frowned but did not respond, deep in thought and chewing his lip. Thinking over what he had supposedly been offered?
"Ken Ichijouji, who will find that the ruler of this world is somewhat...familiar."
"What are you talking about?" the blue-haired boy demanded. "Why was I attacked? What's really going on?"
"Soren of the Greil Mercenaries, who I believe has just realized what his stakes in this game are."
"Then you let that happen to Ike on purpose? I don't believe your explanation. You're up to something!" cried the other boy, the one with the brand on his forehead.
"I am rarely ever not 'up to something,' my dear apprentice." The man paused, looked at his reflection in the crystal topping his staff. "Myself, Raistlin Majere. I stand to gain an apprentice and free the downtrodden—a group which, despite my admittedly soiled history, I have always sought to support."
"I'll bet he supports himself first, though," Yamaki muttered. Raistlin heard.
"And what of yourself? Mitsuo Yamaki, defender of the people, hidden in the shadows. Why hide? Do you fear the people do not wish to be protected? Or do you realize the true nature of your quest and seek only to conceal your motives? Order and stability—or your own arrogance: which does Hypnos truly support?"
"I have superiors," Yamaki argued gruffly.
"Whom you detest with a passion, despite their usual inclination to agree with you. Only you know what's best for everybody, don't you?"
"What of you, bringing us here without our consent? Where do you get off talking to me like that?"
Raistlin shrugged. "It is as you say: I serve myself first. I needed you here; I brought you here; I'm not sorry about it. End of moral examination. Now, your part in this...have I not already mentioned it? You're freeing the people, the poor helpless people who need Mitsuo Yamaki to look after them. Those pitiful fools."
"And what about me?" I demanded, not angry that he hadn't explained my presence but wanting to take the pressure off Yamaki before he exploded—quite possibly literally. "I don't know what Group you're talking about, but I hardly think given the apparent requirements that I qualify. Why drag me along, then?"
"Oh, yes. You. Riley Otori." He sounded almost bored. "Well, someone has to watch the house while we're gone, do the laundry, fix the meals."
"You dragged me out of my bed to God-knows-where so I could be your dorm mother while you overthrow a corrupt government!" Now I really was mad. "I'm a professional! A working woman!"
"In, of course, a purely working relationship with your employer."
How had he twisted it so he could attack Yamaki again? "Yes, I live with him. Yes, I cook and clean for him. But only because--" forgive me, Yamaki, it's true "--he won't look after himself!"
"Only?" Yamaki asked.
I was near tears. How stupid. Now I was angry and embarrassed. "And I...worry about him. I care about him. Alright, I love him. Are you happy?"
"Lighter," Yamaki muttered; apparently he was still a bit drowsy. "Need my lighter." He shuffled off to the bedroom to find his favorite stress-relieving device. I watched him go but didn't follow. After all, it was my fault for getting mad...but he would blame himself. 'I shouldn't have let her stay'; 'I knew it would be a bad idea.' 'I never should have let anyone detract me from work in the first place.'
Putting words in my head now?
Am I right?
...That has nothing to do with it. Just stick to the facts. Don't record any more dialogue.
You're embarrassed, aren't you? I'm sorry. Can I get you anything?
You can shut up and finish the report!...And I'll have a cappuccino.
Getting back to the subject at hand, which by the way is impossible to relate accurately without dialogue, sir, Yamaki wandered back into the room in which we'd woken up, and Raistlin wasn't quite done with me yet. "I wasn't fishing for a confession; your feelings are fairly apparent. The point I would like to make is this: you enjoy looking after him, do you not?"
He had me there. Blast.
He smiled. "I thought as much."
"Hey!" the Wild One suddenly interjected. "What about me? You're ignoring me! What am I doing here? I have paperwork to do—not that I mind the break, but the sooner I'm off this dumb probation the better!"
"Ah, Lucemon. I was just coming to you but female hysteria interrupted me. You have been given a very important position."
"I knew it!" The angelic Wild One looked immensely pleased with himself. "I'm the leader we're establishing after we kick the old one out, aren't I?"
Raistlin smiled again. I've never met anyone before who looked even worse smiling than frowning, but he somehow managed it. "No. You're Yamaki's partner."
"What?" Lucemon and I both exclaimed, and Yamaki rushed back in, lighter in one hand and an all-too-familiar-looking device in the other. "What is THIS?" he demanded, shoving the light grey object in Raistlin's face.
"I believe in your world you call it a D-Power. A Digivice. A connecting link between human and Digimon which enables the emotions of the one to be converted into data for the other."
"I know what a Digivice is," panted Yamaki, wild-eyed behind his sunglasses, which were sliding down his nose. "What I want to know is what this one was doing on my nightstand."
Lucemon was also staring at the D-Power. "No way," he breathed. "No freaking way."
Yamaki turned to Lucemon, mouth hanging slightly open. "I won't," he stammered, then regained control. "Especially not with...that. I just won't!"
A light flashed. When it cleared, Lucemon was no longer standing in the hallway; in his place was a small white monster with small golden wings, large eyes, and a horn on the top of his head. "I...devolved..." it gasped, then looked up at Yamaki, who was threatening to squeeze the D-Power to death while the thumb of his other hand flicked his lighter open and closed at lightning's pace. Eyes crossing, the monster flopped backwards in a dead faint.
"You idiot," snapped Raistlin, knocking the unconscious creature out of the way with his staff as he began to leave. "Now look what you've done."
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"You better not lock this filing cabinet," Cupimon threatened from where he sat in the drawer. "And don't go screwing with the settings on my homepage either. I just got that stupid thing the way I like it."
"Perish the thought," I said wryly as the computer booted. Yamaki was in the restroom, washing his face and adjusting his tie, and I had come to see that his first day of work went smoothly.
That's right, work. Not only had Raistlin had the gall to send us all here, he'd gotten us all jobs. Working at the Judecca Public Library. Who had worked there before he'd showed up, I had no idea; the Group comprised the entire staff. Raistlin was head librarian, Lyon was children's librarian, Ken and Soren were "pages" or circulation workers, and Yamaki was reference and tech librarian. And I, of course, was the stay-at-home domestic goddess.
"It's the perfect cover," Raistlin had said. "This library has an excellent collection of arcane texts from which I can instruct my apprentice, and we can easily stay in touch with the common people of the town, look out for them."
Yamaki had used a few choice words to describe this plan, and in my mind I agreed with him. There was definitely something fishy about this whole setup.
"Shouldn't you be getting back?" Yamaki asked, walking up; I could hear the steady click-click-click as he played with his lighter.
"Are you sure?" I asked him, brushing off his suitcoat for him, straightening the already pristine cuffs out of habit. "I can stay if you need someone--"
"I've got him." Yamaki kicked the filing drawer; Cupimon, nee Lucemon, yelled a wordless protest. "I'll be fine. I can take care of myself perfectly well."
He was still mad at me about my little breakdown, and so was I. "Just...hang in there, sir," I told him, picked up my purse, and left, fighting the urge to look back as (in my mind's eye) he slowly receded from view. Yamaki wasn't born to be a public servant. If he didn't know anybody, he'd be a saint: idealistic to a fault, noble, determined to defend the welfare of humanity, full of love for his fellow man. Yet on a man-to-man level, he thinks everyone he meets is an idiot. Maybe he was better off before I entered his life: alone with his computers, who worked when he told them to work, on what he wanted them to work. Who followed his instructions to the letter, and who never complained or worried about the morality of what he wanted them to do. Had I really stuck my nose where it hadn't belonged?
If you had, he'd have kicked you out, the sensible part of my mind replied, the part that was usually in control. I was glad it hadn't abandoned me altogether. He loves you, Riley, you know he does. He just doesn't know how to show it. And you've helped him. Who was there when he was fired? You were...even if it was only because you were fired too. Who helped him get rehired, set him back on his feet? You did...even if it was only by following all his orders.
This is getting a little too personal. You're almost finished, Riley, don't make me do this myself when you've gotten this far.
Yes, sir. So I was walking down the street, thinking about...certain personal thoughts about a certain impersonable man, heading for the Group's base of operations, the place where we'd all woken up. A rather large, normal-looking house situated seven blocks from the library on the lot designated 616 Antenora Avenue, the base apparently had a ward on it preventing any of the "enemy"'s forces from infiltrating. I assumed, if this was an oppressed country where everyone served the ruler mindlessly, that everyone would be an enemy.
Thus I was thoroughly surprised to see the tall man with pointed ears huddled on the doorstep. In fact, I'd swear he wasn't even there until I stepped on him.
"Majere!" the man rasped, out of breath and clutching my pant leg. "Take me to Majere!"
"One moment," I said awkwardly, fumbling for my keys and trying to figure out what on Earth—or Judecca, or whatever—was going on. Unlocking the door, I led the man in, sat him on the couch, and dialed the head librarian's office on the phone.
"Yes, what?" Raistlin's voice was raw, like he'd been coughing.
"It's Riley...um, sir."
"I know that, you idiot! Why do you think caller identification exists? What I don't know is what you want!"
"I don't know how to tell you this," I managed to say, "so I'll just put it straight. There's an elf on the couch."
"What?" Silence pervaded the other side of the line for several long moments, then: "Red or black?"
"Huh?"
"Red or black hair? Does the elf have red or black hair?"
I checked. "Uh...black, sir. And he looks mad."
A sigh. "Fine. I'll be right there." With that, he hung up on me. I stood there like an idiot with the receiver still in my hand for about a minute, then hung up as well. First liberation quests, then partners, then a library, and now an elf. Compared to this, tracking Wild Ones for Hypnos looked like a pretty darn normal job.
And God, I missed it.
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Thus ends the first 7-canto Canticle of the 7-canticle tangled mess called "Judecca." That's right , right now, current plans for this story set it at being 49 cantos long. I'm looking forward to that, actually.
I explain Hypnos/Tamers on my blog today! Dear lord, I love Yamaki and the gang...though even writing about him leaves me a bundle of nerves like he is.
Next chapter: We finally see inside Raistlin's mind (or at least as much as he's willing to show) as he discovers the disadvantages of working at a library and shanghaiing apprentices. He's thus forced by circumstances to cast a highly eccentric spell...on himself.
Really long nonsense, coming soon right here on "Judecca!" As Asuka Langley would say, "Next time: Service, service!"