A/N: Here is the totality of the notes I had to work from: "17- Flame remembers past". I literally had to wing the whole chapter. Not bad for a dragon ;)
Music: Sad Statue by System of a Down, as well as Phenomenon, Falls Apart and Move by Thousand Foot Krutch.
The pain was tearing at his mental walls. His entire body was on fire, and it only got stronger with every passing second. Screaming to make it stop would not work. And Flame would not give up Chelone's anchors. Not to her.
The nanobots cut out abruptly. This had become Cindy's latest favorite tactic. Blast him with pain, then suddenly cut it off, and then burst again.
"Flame," she said, with a chuckle in her voice. "You're really tough, you know?"
"..."
"It's just a pity that I'm only at 60," she said, turning the nanobots back on.
It took another half an hour of torture until Flame finally snapped. In the middle of an intensive blast session, he suddenly stopped screaming - and started crying. It was only a few tears at first, but it soon built into an unstoppable flow of sobs.
Everything in him had been violated. Every inner wall, every sanctum, every secret had been raped by the incessant and excruciating power of the nanobots.. There was nothing left ... nothing but a burnt soul.
Flame didn't even notice the nanobots switching off. He failed to see Cindy walking up to him, wiping some tears away as she smiled. He didn't feel it, when the braces disengaged, and he fell to the floor.
He didn't hear Cindy walking out. In his stupor, he didn't feel the cold stone floor. Instead, he curled up into the foetal position, moaning softly to himself through the sobbing...
It was a bright, sunny day. The birds overhead, riding the fresh winds of the dawn, sang a promise of a great day. But the rising smoke - and the screams - quickly shattered that dream.
It could have been any mountain village. It could have been any mountain, in fact, but the forces of darkness had chosen this village on this mountain. Despite the seemingly invincible blue skies, hordes of enemy forces had stormed this village, ripping it apart.
Houses were burning. Dead Digimon littered the streets, their blood flowing in little rivulets that eventually coalesced into rivers, streaked down the gutters, mingled with the dirty water, and washed down to the local river, where it would be swallowed up by the clear blue water of the main stream.
But there would be no such ease of purification for one small Veemon. His body was smeared with the blood of two Digimon that had been very close to him. And he was close to them now, even in death, as he huddled over the bodies of his dead parents, fervently wishing either that they would wake up - or that he would wake up. Either way, that there would be an end to this nightmare.
His cries for help had diminished into the little sobs of a lost and hurt child. And his sobs were no different from the hundreds of others in the village, as terrified children emerged from their hiding places, trying to find whatever was left.
But there was nothing. Nothing except the dead bodies of their parents and older friends, and the acrid stench of burning houses. Lost and confused, little Digimon staggered around, trying to find their way.
The Veemon looked up from where he had been resting his head - his father's bloody chest. His heart had been ripped out by a much bigger, clawed Digimon assailant, and the blood had caked into the gap, filling the hole.
The little Veemon stood, shaking as he tried to find his balance. He was confused, he was lost, and he was alone. He had no idea what to do, no idea where to go, no idea who to call upon...
Slowly, he turned, and started walking. Down the street, to the main road, and eventually out of town. He was in a daze - his legs were moving on automatic, and his eyes were set on the horizon ahead. Step by step, he moved further and further away from the catastrophe.
Passing Digimon stopped and stared at his bloody and bruised figure, but none stopped to help. What had happened to him was none of their concern, and they were not going to get involved.
Veemon never stopped walking. But his walking would never carry him far enough.
Flame - once a proud warrior, defender of a realm, mentor, teacher and friend, assistant to the greatest general of all time - cowered and whimpered as his past was played back to him. In the shattered recesses of his mind, nothing was real - yet everything was as real as the day it happened.
He didn't hear the door open, and he didn't acknowledge Cindy as she crouched next to him. He was lost in a world of his own, plagued by memories that, until this point, had been hidden from him...
The Veemon had somehow managed to reach another village. This one was almost two full days away, but the little Digimon wasn't tired yet. Whatever he was fueled by, it wasn't going to run out soon.
Digimon stopped and stared as he walked down the main street, oblivious to the world around him. It didn't occur to any of them to find out if he was okay, and as he passed out of immediate earshot, they went back to whatever they were doing.
The Veemon took a left turn - as if on instinct - and started walking down a slightly narrower road. There was a tavern on the right, and by the sounds of shouting and breaking glass, there was a fight in progress.
As he came within fifty feet of the door, it burst open, and several enraged Digimon stormed out. They were flinging furniture and other large items at eachother. One of them - a burly Greymon - grabbed a massive table from inside the tavern, and stormed out onto the street.
His target was a WarGreymon, and he lifted the table over his head, roaring as he brought it down on the WarGreymon at full force.
Unfortunately for the drunken and enraged dinosaur, he missed the WarGreymon entirely - and smashed a passerby Veemon over the head with enough force to split his skull.
The Veemon was instantly crushed - and killed. His mangled body was pressed into the road surface by the power of the blow, and like a burst balloon, his blood had spread out almost twenty feet in every direction.
The Greymon pulled up the table, and swung it at another Digimon, not even pausing to look at the carnage he had caused.
Flame whimpered at the memory of the table coming down on him. He had blanked out then, but he was seeing it all now, as if from an overhead camera. When the table was lifted, and he saw what was left of himself, he cried again, renewed sobs wracking his body.
He didn't feel the needle piercing his arm, but the new serum would have it's effect nonetheless.
The fight was still going on, and the dust they were kicking up had formed a haze around the area. Massive, struggling Digmon moved to and fro over the road surface as they continued engaging in their pointless fight.
The bloody corpse of the Veemon had since been covered in a layer of dust, and was no longer clearly visible.
Slowly, mysteriously, the Veemon's spilled blood began to glow. Even the flecks on the walls of the tavern started to shine with an inner light.
The blood vanished, replaced by little puddles and streaks of light. The bodily remnants of the slain Digimon were also absorbed by the light, until, eventually, there was nothing left of him.
The lights started to gravitate towards the sky, forming into a ball as they went. As it cleared the roof of the tavern, the lights coalesced into a single, tight, sphere, and shot off into the blue yonder.
A black shroud overtook the day's light, as Flame felt himself being dragged down into a warm, inviting, aura of sleep...
Cindy was satisfied. The Flamedramon had cracked. When he awoke, the last of his inhibitions would have been erased, and he would tell them all they wanted to know.
She nodded to the two guard Digimon standing nearby, who moved in and lifted him up. His unconscious form was to be moved to a new place, where she would have much easier access to him once he awoke.
Gently, he was laid on a stretcher, and strapped into place. The two guards carried him out, and Cindy followed. There was much more work to do, but she felt happier about all of it, having achieved something so monumental.
It could even be said that there was a slight spring in her step.