63
Convergence
"Their eyes stared with awful agony; their lips writhed in soundless laments; tears coursed down the sunken cheeks of many. Even the horribly inhuman heads – bird-like, reptilian, monstrous things of living stone and metal and vegetable matter – showed traces of the unceasing torment that gnawed at them." – Henry Kuttner, "Hydra"
From his vantage point above the generators, it was obvious to Sato that two of the six threats had been eliminated. Neither Patamon nor Armadimon were in any condition to continue fighting, and his Pipismon had them and their partners surrounded. Before long the reinforcements should arrive – FlaWizarmon who could keep ahold of the Chosen Children without slicing them to ribbons. Sato considered revealing his presence, but decided to wait. If he only had a childish impulse to gloat, there would be time for that later. At the moment four of the Chosen were still at large in the base. There was no sense in taking unnecessary risks.
For now he watched, and listened. The Digimon in the generators had resumed their usual whines, groans, cries, and screams, though maybe the sounds were even a little more hopeless than before. Sato had not been pleased to have the battle come to the generator room, but now that it was over, with two Chosen defeated and the machinery unharmed, he was ready to change his opinion. Crushing the brief hope of the sufferers would help increase output.
He turned his gaze to Takaishi, still huddled over his Digimon. The Pipismon hovering over him was still trying to get to the boy's wounded partner, its tail now making quick short cuts in his lower leg. Sato was too far away to really see what was happening, but he could imagine Takaishi with clenched teeth, maybe tears, or the beginnings of tears, either from pain, or emotion, or both. It's only what you deserve, Sato thought, his lips curving into a cruel smile, After all the trouble you've caused for us. Stop fighting, stop hoping, and hurt, you little bastard.
Tailmon led the way, bounding forward while V-mon and the humans ran behind. At the end of the wide hall they could see their destination, the place where the black pipes had their source. The outlines of the cylindrical machines grew more distinct as they approached, and they heard the sounds coming from them with greater clarity. Soon Tailmon crossed the threshold, where the tubes they had been following branched off in multiple directions, snaking around the room, each to a different machine.
"What is that sound!?" Daisuke asked, stopping just behind Tailmon.
"It's coming from these," was all she said, without turning around.
"It's… it's horrible," Hikari said. She stepped forward, towards the front row of cylinders.
Partway across the room, Iori had heard Daisuke's voice, and looked up from his fallen partner, trying to pick out his friends through the rows of generators.
"Daisuke-san!"
"Quiet!" squeaked the Pipismon that had him in its grip. But Iori was working his way out of its embrace, and there was no way for it to stop him without risking damage to its master's new prisoner.
"Help, Daisuke-san!"
Iori managed to squirm free, and joined Armadimon at the center of the ring of enemies. The Pipismon readied themselves to intercept him, but didn't move. Iori ignored them. Instead he looked for and found the bright colors of his friends' clothing at one end of the large room. But did they hear him, or see him?
Daisuke heard him at least.
"Hey! Iori! Where are you?"
He rushed forward in the general direction of Iori's voice, which he had just barely been able to make out over the horrific noises emanating from the metal cylinders. In doing so he came into close proximity with one of the machines, and its hatch slid open in response, revealing its occupant. Daisuke cried out and jumped back as he glimpsed the thing, which was now a distorted parody of the Gazimon it had once been – the ears torn, the flesh warped, the claws broken and steaming.
Not far away, Hikari watched as the generator standing before her exposed what was inside it. There wasn't much left. It seemed to have been a Betamon, but it had lost almost all shape, the remnants of its body barely connected to its shriveled Digi-Core. Its eyes, now markedly different sizes, were glazed over, but as it stared at her a slight measure of focus returned to them. What emotion they conveyed she couldn't recognize, and didn't want to.
She covered her mouth with a quivering hand. She didn't back away. It was like that time four years ago when she had witnessed WaruMonzaemon's cruelty to the Numemon, but this was worse. The room was filled with machines, and the machines were filled with Digimon suffering like this one – it was worse than any nightmare, because it was real, and for the moment she was paralyzed with horror and a soul-crushing pity.
"This is—" Tailmon began, but couldn't find the words to finish her sentence. Like her partner, she was unable to find in all her memories anything so appalling. The cruelty she had seen in Vamdemon and the Digimon Kaiser was dwarfed by what was happening in this room.
"Daisuke, those monsters have Armadimon and Iori!"
Tailmon glanced over and saw what V-mon had seen – another group of enemies resembling large purple bats. They would probably be Armor level, like the FlaWizarmon. She needed to evolve. She sprang to Hikari's side. Her partner was kneeling now, unmoving, eyes wet with tears.
"Hikari," she said. "We have to evolve."
"They're screaming," was all the girl could manage. "They're screaming."
Tailmon reached out with her front paws, shaking her partner gently.
"We can't help them until we defeat the enemy," she said. "Come on, stay with me!"
"Y-yes." With an effort Hikari raised her head, her horror swiftly becoming determination and a righteous anger.
Nearby, Daisuke had still been gaping at the Gazimon when V-mon called him back to his senses, and he regained presence of mind in time to turn and see a pair of the Pipismon sweeping towards him and his friends over the generators, leaving a few behind to make sure Iori didn't escape. He looked at his partner, wondering if V-mon would be able to evolve again so soon.
V-mon himself had fixed all his focus on the approaching enemies. He had seen enough of what the machines contained, and didn't want to see any more. What he did want to do was get back at the ones responsible. They didn't deserve to be called Digimon, these things, fighting for the people who caused all this pain for no good reason. He didn't wait for Daisuke. He was ready to attack now.
"V-mon Head!"
V-mon launched himself headfirst into the first of the Pipismon to pass over the nearest row of cylinders, his bony head colliding with its chin. The bat creature's head whipped back violently, and it fell from the air, unconscious. V-mon landed and looked up again to see another Pipismon descending on him. He raised his fists and prepared for the impact, but his opponent never reached him.
"Curse of Queen!"
Twin beams of pink light struck the swooping Pipismon and kept right on going, flattening it against one of the room's walls. Those Pipismon remaining with Iori looked at each other. After a last glance at Armadimon, who was struggling to right himself in spite of his pain, they scattered into the air to engage Nefertimon.
Some ways away, Takeru looked up cautiously as he heard and felt the beating of his tormenter's wings, and its shadow withdrew from him. There had been voices – something had drawn its attention – and who could it be but his friends here at last? In his arms, Patamon stirred and groaned.
"Takeru… What's happening?"
"We'll be alright," he answered, getting to his feet and wincing at the cuts on his limbs. Looking about him he saw Nefertimon with Hikari perched atop her. The Pipismon were a little quicker than she, but Nefertimon was able to avoid their damaging screeches, and whenever an opportunity presented itself she would blast them with Nile Jewelry.
"Takeru-san!"
Iori made his voice heard over the noise of battle and the pained sounds from the generators. The two Chosen Children met at the place where Armadimon had fallen. Iori's eyes were still wet and he was trembling all over; it was only now that he'd had time to fully understand what the cylindrical machines contained.
"What do we do!?"
"We – we've got to—"
Takeru was unable to finish the sentence before a sound drew their attention to the end of the room opposite from where Daisuke and Hikari had entered. A large door was swinging open, and out of it emerged five FlaWizarmon onto a raised platform.
"Ah, here we have the Chosen Children!" yelled one, and all members of the group raised their match-like staves with heads ignited. "Attack!"
"Momiji Oroshi!"
Suddenly four of the FlaWizarmon had something protruding from their torsos. As their data dissolved into nothingness, Shurimon's four arms could be seen, each with its shuriken.
"Kusanagi!"
The FlaWizarmon that had shouted turned around in surprise before being bisected by the Kusanagi, which circled around still spinning and reattached itself to Shurimon's back. Behind him came Miyako, Ken, and Wormmon, the four of them having followed their enemies from the place where they'd been manufactured.
Miyako and company had heard what the FlaWizarmon had shouted, and ran forward with hopes of finding their friends still well. It would be good to see friendly faces. That silent chase through the corridors of the complex had been intense. Shurimon, who could move quickly and silently without much effort when he needed to, had led the way, while the other three hung back for fear of being discovered. They'd been fortunate enough to catch up with the FlaWizarmon they had seen emerge from the massive machine, but had found him in a group with others of his kind. They had surreptitiously followed in the hopes that, unlike themselves, their enemies would know where they were going.
The Chosen hadn't come to the decision to follow the artificial Armor Digimon immediately. First they had taken the time to disable the machine, with Shurimon using his weapons to sever the cords that fed it. He had sawed through the black tubing with relative ease. What it was they found flowing through it, they weren't able to guess at. It wasn't quite a gas or a liquid, just a kind of dark color or sluggish miasma that dispersed rapidly in clean air. It was awful to look at, and they had made sure not to go anywhere near it.
During their trailing of the enemy it had become clear to Ken that they were following the black pipes to their source, a fact that hadn't helped his trepidation. He knew they would eventually find out where the disturbing substance the pipes carried had come from, and added to that realization was a recollection of the pipes which he and the others had followed in the midst of another crisis, deep within the derelict base of the Digimon Kaiser. The pipes that led directly to the World of Darkness.
Now he saw the large expanse of the generator room stretching before him. He heard them – the loud groans and the whines like barely suppressed screams. He had expected something grim, though this was beyond even what he had feared. There was no need to wonder now where the missing and kidnapped Digimon had gone. They were here – not as slaves, but as fuel. But what nightmarish engine needed pain and despair for fuel?
Not even at the height of his own evil had Ken approached this, but that was no comfort. All that he could do was promise something to himself – that he would free these Digimon, and exterminate whatever had put them to this use. But first on his agenda was reuniting the six Chosen Children and their partners, many of whom he could see out in the large room.
The remaining Pipismon had either been deleted or beaten into unconsciousness, and with the exception of any Hanumon still at large, there would be no reinforcements coming. Ken looked at Miyako.
"What – What is this!?" she asked no one, her eyes widening in horror.
"This…" Shurimon began slowly, "…is unforgiveable."
"I'm scared, Ken-chan," Wormmon whined, pressing himself against his partner's shirt.
Ken had no words of comfort for him. He was trembling himself. But, gathering what courage he could muster, he was the first to take a step forward, to descend the few stairs into man-made Hell.