Chapter 44: Digital World: unpredictable and resisting Wind
The last thing he had expected this to be was fun, but interestingly enough, it was once he had gotten used to the new level of ever-present fear. If he were discovered, he'd be lucky if his end would come fast. So far, he had not been discovered and though he did find this very, very odd as he hadn't actually expected to live past his very first act of rebellion by more than a couple hours, he was grateful for it as he was still alive.
He intended to make the very most of it. So long as he wasn't caught, there was so much damage he could deal to His Majesty and his followers.
Once he had actually opened his eyes and taken a look around, that was.
In his opinion, it was sheer stupidity to leave someone who was only blackmailed into obedience in the first place, in charge of anything remotely important.
He was left within arm's length of several greatly important things.
Like Operation Nobel Revival.
Like the database.
Like the relocation program.
Like the security access to said program.
Like readings of data that he was actually supposed to report.
Like security feeds.
He was going to die anyway -His Majesty had already left his throne room, the security said- so he might as well take as much down with him as he could.
Imagining His Majesty's reaction when he found out about his gross misjudgment and how much it cost him was terrifying, but if he ignored that part, as he had not done until lately, to have an excuse for what he did and helped with, then it was mostly funny.
The guards that had been assigned to him, partly for his own protection against the cut-throat followers, partly to give him a reminder of what hung over his head like a sword of Damocles. It had worked for a long time. But once he had actively turned his thoughts to rebellion, and was not just guilt-tripped into it, he saw a very useful hole with that.
Unlike the latest 'recruits', his guards were not controlled and quite capable of independent thought, and they had been with him for a long time now, but that also meant they knew him and he knew them and their habits and they knew his. A habit like being unable to properly work with them breathing down his neck.
Which meant he was quite able to convince them to be standing outside the open door instead of inside it, if only once. In other words, doing things he should not be doing was easy enough. They also wouldn't notice when all access to all programs was linked to his terminal.
It was terrifying, but it also gave him a feeling of vengeful satisfaction that made it possible to forget about the drawbacks that were accompanied by this. Like his approaching demise...
Anyway, lying into his tormenters' faces with what counted for a smile, all the while going behind their back was unexpectedly stimulating.
Knowing things that were going on in the digital world that even His Majesty with his gift of foresight would not know, because it was not actually something that could be seen with the plain eye was very...satisfying.
On a small side window, he watched as His Majesty entered that place.
He loathed it, for so many reasons, now that he actually allowed himself to feel something besides the will to not be punished. In that place, someone who was his brother but at the same time wasn't, had been kept. Kept to be dissolved like sugar in water, flesh in acid. It counted for all of them. Or was supposed to anyway; somehow, and even he had no idea how, already two children had left those prisons not much worse for the wear.
Distantly, analytically, he thought it was rather interesting.
On screen he watched the scene play out. The humanoid wolf digimon didn't stand a chance, was smacked around and devolved into a dark haired teen. He remained motionless lying on the ground. The girl and her sphinx partner were taken out of the air equally fast. The cat was in a heap on the floor, still conscious and struggling, but to him it seemed, her body wasn't willing to follow. The girl was picked up at her neck and carried to the prison she had just been freed from like an inanimate object.
Which she probably was to His Majesty.
She was swallowed by the Fortress and disappeared, perhaps forever. The castle didn't work as it should with the Spiritholders, but the girl wasn't one. Did the castle not work like that in general or were spirits the source of irregular result? A moralless part of him was interested in seeing what would happen. The rest of him rebelled and reminded himself that the girl must have things that made it worth for her to be throwing her life into this...
And that, he could understand.
But in truth, he actually couldn't do anything for her.
It was in that moment, that a red rimed warning window popped up on screen. A maliciously gleeful grin, almost sadistic, hushed over his face and he casually ignored the warning.
Now well, what will become of this?
There were things His Majesty did not know. This, quite clearly, was one of it. He zoomed in on his Majesty's face, unwilling to miss that expression.
The little security feed lit up in greenish-blue-white and when it receded, there was one person and one digimon more than had been before.
"Uhwa! Ah! Ouch!" Mimi complained when the stupid light suddenly disappeared and the ground under her feet with it. She pinwheeled her arms in the air, trying to somehow, somewhere catch her balance. Catching on to something solid, she only just managed to avoid crashing face-first into the ground when gravity took a hold again. "Palmon," she whined. "I hate this."
"Are you okay, Mimi?" Her partner asked somewhat worriedly from somewhere around Mimi's waist. Her tick arms, which had been squeezing the air from Mimi, slowly let loose. "What was that? Where are we?"
Mimi had her eyes squeezed shut as she hugged this something that she had caught on to like Palmon held on to her. "I don't know. I don't wanna know. This is so the last time I'm listening to mystical digivice-power things."
Half afraid, Mimi wondered if the ground would disappear again when she opened her eyes.
She squeezed an eye a slit open. It was dark. Or mostly dark. At least darker than where she had just come from. She saw some things that were probably torches. So far, it didn't look bad. Mimi sighed a sigh of relief.
Palmon tugged at her. "Mimi?" She sounded hesitant, somewhat afraid.
Oh no! Mimi quickly shut her eye again, hoping.
"Mimi," Palmon tugged, more insistent, more hesitant and more afraid.
Mimi prayed, then opened her eyes.
What she saw made them fly wide open when she wanted nothing more than to squeeze them shut again. "I hate this," she wailed loudly as every eye was on her, just as shocked as she was. They didn't look nice. Particularly not the Tall and Scary with a bone for an arm and red streetlight-glow for a left eye. "You stupid thing!" She shook her digivice in her hand as if a good, hard rattling could somehow fix this. "What the hell did you bring me here for?"
"Mimi," Palmon whispered, into the silence, still tugging. "I'm scared."
Risking a glance to her partner while she was pressing buttons and yelling at her device, Mimi saw that the living plant looked about as terrified as Mimi felt. Just short of panicking and or blacking out, in other words.
"Is that...Tailmon?"
Like a pause button was pressed, Mimi froze. "What?" Afraid what she would find, Mimi followed Palmon's outstretched arm to a...crater with a white spot in the middle. Tailmon. And not just any random cat, but Kari's. Mimi could tell. And Tailmon did not look good.
It felt like being dropped in a bath of ice cubes. A strangled noise of horror left her throat.
And unfortunately, as Mimi went into shock, the other dozens and dozens of beings in the hall came out of theirs.
"Majesty," one whispered, lifting a dark head to look at the Ugly And Bony With The Evil Eye.
"I want them alive." Was the cold reply and it was only when Mimi's eyes flashed to the digimon with horror, that she saw the form it (he?) was standing over. A human form, crumbled and looking lots familiar. "Find out how they got here."
"Yes, Highness," the first digimon replied without so much as a twitch and the face and terror, suppressed by shock inside Mimi exploded into full-blown panic just in time for her to throw herself at the ground. What sounded like sharp objects sizzled through the air over her head and, instead of whimpering, Mimi was starting to get her act together.
Palmon, too, judging by her stronger voice. "Mimi!"
It wasn't a cry for help or of fear from her partner, but more like a vocal sign that she was ready. Mimi clenched her digivice just as hard as she clenched her teeth when she scrambled up. Her head ducked, Mimi drove for cover behind one of these large columns that stood around everywhere.
Her cover was only one sided and it didn't help, much, but it gave Mimi the reassurance she needed to focus on her digivice. For what triggered Palmon's evolution had always been the purity of Mimi's thoughts.
That, unlike what it sounded like, was never easy. Very quickly and very simply multiple thoughts or emotions were involved. Thoughts like 'have them gone' implied 'so that they can't attack me anymore', 'so that we'll be save', 'because I'm scared'. That wasn't pure. Purity only came in the heat of the moment, when there wasn't time for anything but that absolute simplicity. It made causing Palmon's evolution on purpose very difficult. Made it more difficult the more experienced Mimi got. The higher the level, the higher the difficulty.
It was extremely difficult now. She had no idea what to focus on. Which emotion to use as her focal point. Too many things were racing through her head in the precious couple seconds she'd already wasted. Where's Kari? I'm scared. What happened? I don't want this. Is Tailmon alright? I don't want to die. Where am I? What is going on? What are we gonna do? I don't want to be here. What can I do? When can we finally go home again? I want home.
Light broke through her closed eyelids and Mimi clung to it with fierce determination, not allowing her thoughts to wander even when she heard her partner announce her evolution.
"Palmon...warp evolution to...Rosemon!"
What? Cracking her eyes open, Mimi allowed herself to stare at the evolution in complete disbelief. Her thoughts hadn't been in any semblance of purity!
Staring, Mimi saw the residual light fade from around her partner, revealing a female digimon. Her head was half humanoid, half a rose's blossom, her body seemed to be mostly that of a woman except for a few small detail. Thorn vines grew across her torso, around her arms and ended far past her hands. A leaf-like cape hung from her shoulders.
Her feet ending in very high heels, she very much looked like the adult woman to Lilimon's teenaged appearance.
It was around the time when the glow had faded from her partner, that Mimi noticed the column she had been hiding behind was actually excluding the very same in a greenish-blue shade. Mimi thought she heard laughter, joyful and surprised. Laughter in her head only.
That voice again.
It was annoying.
Battle broke out.
Rosemon fanatically tried to protect Mimi against the many attackers before the serious ones got involved and Mimi heard some voice who was the reason they were in trouble in the first place laughing in her head. A trap then?
How many enemies were there anyway? Mimi glared at her digivice and impulsively slammed it against the pillar in anger. All this stupid thing's fault!
What she didn't expect was her digivice and hand to go right through the mass her back was leaning against. Nor did she think it possible that when the pulled her hand back out, that there was another hand wrapped around hers. (Again, she heard the voice, incomprehensible but much louder this time.)
Most definitely, having a blond girl struggle out of a supposedly very solid surface like it was the local swimming pool and landing sprawled in Mimi's lap, gasping.
Zoe was normal.
Standing out was not something she liked or that she did. Not in her early childhood in Japan, and then later in Italy not much beyond that she was a foreigner and even then only until she had mastered that language. It hadn't taken long.
After that she'd fit right in, and been happy with it. She'd had friends, some close, some not and even boys she was interested in (as much as any twelve year old could be). During sleepovers, she'd giggled with the others, during the days passed notes in lessons and spend the afternoons playing and shopping and talking.
Italy had been great. For a long time she'd felt more at home there than in the country of her birth.
Once she had returned, she hadn't fit it, though she had certainly tried (and eventually succeeded).
The Japanese culture had been stifling, the people inflexible and intolerant. Anything new or strange had been watched not with curious interest but with intolerance. In a way, Zoe, being half Japanese and half Italian had been the worst. If she were a complete foreigner, some of her temperament and habits could have been explained, but since she was half, with her early childhood spend in Japan, and yet with cultural habits dominated by foreigners, she had been shunned. She'd had stood out. But she had never wanted to.
Because Zoe was a determined, simple girl with simple needs.
It had been difficult, but all she had wanted was to fit in, to have friends, giggle together and have fun. She hadn't seen a reason to go to the toilet together, though, or to hold her tongue and compliment things she found dread ugly.
Zoe accused them of intolerance, but maybe it was her who was truly that.
Her adventures in the digital world taught her a great many things. First and foremost, how to fight and how to survive. What was necessary and what was not. But she also learned to understand and be compassionate, that there were always two sides to a conflict, often more. She had learned that to make peace, all sides had to be settled or understood and she had to find a middle way between all of them. Zoe had learned and brought the way to practice.
After her ten-minutes-adventure, she'd found real, normal, human girl friends. Zoe had learned to see where they came from and adapted. It hadn't always been easy, and biting down on her temper was difficult at the best of times, but it worth it. There were just some things boy friends were no good for, no matter how close.
(She'd told them that, too. Takuya had wrinkled his nose in disgust, Tommy had been confused, Koji had donned his masterfully blank face, Koichi had smiled somewhat apologetically and JP had been caught between disappointment and relief. She'd laughed at them.)
Zoe knew what she wanted to do with her life, knew what her future looked like. School was a boring past time, but it did have its uses and she'd intended to milk them for what they were worth, then she'd secure herself a place at a university for fashion designing, which she'd take up after her career time as a model would be over. Somewhere in between she'd have lifelong girl friends, somewhere and perhaps find herself a handsome man to stick with.
Perhaps her life's plans were a bit ambitious, but they were still normal.
Truly, though, the most extraordinary thing about her was not that she was mildly normal but that she desired not to stand out. And that too, was why she struggled.
The second way to make peace was the one she preferred in reality.
"Make all opposition move out of your way. And then be friends with those that still want," she'd told Ayumi, jokingly, on a subject that only Zoe made a connection to the two paths tactics can take.
Ayumi had laughed. "I'd like to see that." She'd said and Zoe had had to bit her tongue.
Her mother had supported her in her dreams and ambitions. She had said it suited a woman to be determined and know what she wanted. Supposedly, it made them more beautiful, more feminine. Zoe and her mother had spent afternoons together, huddled over papers and brochures for what prospects Zoe could have in the future. She'd had advised Zoe to do some kind of sport for her body coordination and figure.
Zoe had chosen gymnastics and she'd had strived with it. Delicate movements, spending more time upside down than on her feet, preferably agile, was what Zoe had hard won combat experience with. To her, it was easy and it was comfortable, useful and peaceful. (Her shoulder blades tickled and she almost but always not quite felt her wings.)
Out of the six of them, Zoe knew she was not the only one doing activity of a certain kind. (Koichi was very good with naginata. Koji had already practiced kendo before. Takuya pushed karate somewhere between his soccer practice. Tommy had it more difficult with finding any semblance to skiing or shooting and JP had had a great choice where to throw punches.)
All in all, Zoe was as normal as every other girl her age. But only because she wanted to be and she did not let any wall stand in her way.
She had wings to fly over it. She was the wind to brush around it.
Yes, Zoe had wanted to be normal and because of it had been normal and because there had been no need to be not normal. Through it all, she hadn't changed a bit.
Dressed in a comfortable shorts, going just barely to half her tights and skin-tight top, the sun shone down on her. Light and small clouds drew shadows across the fields, the wind blew patterns into soft grass. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but the sapphire blue sky, the lively green fields and her. The world seemed to curve under her feet.
Wind danced around her, adoringly, and Zoe closed her eyes to feel the caressing of speeding air on her skin. It was like a prayer answered, like coming home.
Alas this was not her time. Emerald green eyes opened, the world split in three.
A three-way glass separated her from Fairymon and Shutmon and the two from each other as they stood in a semblance of a triangle. The wind, blowing hair into her face, was not bothered by the transparent walls that were stretching into infinity.
Pale blue, like a summer sky watched her from a half covered face. Zoe knew herself well and knew a wide mouth, full of razor sharp fangs stretching from cheek to cheek, was pulled into a grin that was as humorous as a bloodbath and as threatening as a teddy bear. Pure anticipation and intimidation as she waited for a move to counter.
Fairymon for once wasn't smiling, her expression solemn and the eye guard reflecting a dark storm. Another habit of hers Zoe recognized when one wing fluttered miniature-like back and forth, with no pattern. A nervous twitching perhaps, in human terms.
Zoe tied her hair in a high ponytail, tugging a leftover strand behind her ear. "I have a guess as to why I'm here," she said, voice soundless as it was carried away by their element.
The small wings on Shutmon's head, so useful for miniature adjustments at very high speeds, unfolded. "Oh?"
Fairymon shot her counterpart a look, then smiled sadly at Zoe. "We'd had no choice."
A choice was no choice at all as it had already been made. It had been done on Zoe's behalf perhaps, but more than anything Zoe had always despised changing. She might have felt she needed to, she might have wanted to, but she had always despised it as well, feeling that if she changed she would stop being who she was. The very thought was something she despised. It had never made her life easy.
Clenching her fists, Zoe watched as her fingers moved. There were little white spots of puncture scars that Zoe had gotten from carelessly skin-diving when she'd been a kid. And there was a cut across her palm from an accident with a knife. "So I assumed. It's too late anyway, but I...regret. Mom and I had wanted to shop from that new store tomorrow. I was looking forward to that. She was too. I should think 'what am I going to tell her', but but I can't even do that." She opened her fists, studying the half-moon marks her nails have left behind. "And I'm afraid."
Shutmon let out a high screech worthy of a fury. Which was exactly what she was. It was her version of indignation, aggression and mocking laughter. An expression of confidence, expectation, and anger.
Zoe ignored her.
"I'm sorry," Fairymon said, softly, "but if we hadn't done as we did, all three of us would be dead."
Zoe snorted. Often times, Fairymon was kinder than her. She was the warm and kind summer wind, the breezes in spring and soft snow in winter. Zoe was hasher than her. Shutmon was harsher than Zoe, as the storms and tornadoes. "So instead of three of us dying it is just one. It's simple. Just math."
At first Fairymon set to object, but then she closed her mouth, pressing her lips together. There was nothing she could say because, though debatable as it was, in a way it was the truth.
It didn't matter to Zoe either way. The truth was subjective and it were facts that matted.
Fact was, Zoe was in this imaginary place because she was hesitant. She was hesitant because she was afraid. Afraid of the unknown and in an aftershock reaction.
A psychological rationalization of the human mind.
Zoe had never been fond of her human instincts and the resulting predominant reactions. It had always made her feel like she was a prisoner in her own body. Fear was an annoyance, life was a chaos of challenges to be met and conquered along the way her temperaments and desires led her.
There was no going back, no looking back, and in the end if there was anything chaining her away from what she wanted to do, even on a flighty whim, something had gone wrong.
That was how Zoe wanted to live, more than anything. That was the call that had made her Fairymon and Shutmon and later Susanoomon.
She closed her eyes again, in distinct surrender and acceptance, her arms falling to her sides. That one thing I still have. Isn't it the most important? A smile tugged at her lips and the knowledge of everything already being decided without her opinion didn't matter anymore.
And besides, otherwise she would have died.
The Zoe that had been normal was gone. She had died (been killed, fallen away like dust, like snow in the sun) with all her hopes and dreams and longing and plans and friends and mom-and-I-wanted-to-go-shopping-tomorrow.
The Zoe that was left was alive, alive and she would live with all her might.
When Zoe had returned from the Digital World the first time, she had done so in good spirits –after Koichi was sure to be alive, of course-, full of optimistic energy and a list of things she had wanted to accomplish.
First on that list had been to make many friends. Many, many good friends and apologize to the ones she had hurt.
That had been her goal.
And she accomplished it. She had had many friends. No longer had she been alone on class trips. No longer had she been frowned at for not accompanying a girl to the toilet. No longer had she been thought of as 'weird'.
She had understood them.
She had talked to them, cleared up misunderstandings, cultural differences and exchanged opinions.
But. But. But…
But they hadn't understood her.
And understanding was only half the deal anyway.
Understanding why one man killed another was one thing, agreeing with it quite another. Along the same line, understanding why some talked behind others backs and agreeing with it was a moon-high difference.
There was more. When they had reached the age where girls truly began to giggle behind boys' backs, something had changed.
Zoe had looked at the same targets, smiled and giggled along, but in truth her mind had wondered what was appealing about certain males.
'Wasn't he handsome?' Zoe couldn't even quite tell what a handsome face was and what wasn't. Her values had slanted away from the average, hard.
'Weren't they just cool?' Zoe didn't see anything even mildly impressive about being able to throw a ball.
Honestly, Zoe couldn't understand why her friends gushed over people they didn't even personally know. Her friends didn't know the school's baseball ace and shouldn't they know him before they admired him? What if he was a coward, a jerk or big headed idiot?
Wasn't it much more important to judge people for who they were, for what they were capable of under pressure, how they acted in danger? If they had honor? Only under pressure the difference between those that were diamonds and those that were dust became clear.
And dust was blown away with a single breath, not even necessarily from her.
And suddenly Zoe had been back at square one, unable to understand her friends. Though, mind, she hadn't exactly acknowledged it. Though, mind, she hadn't exactly taken it lying down. What one did not know, one could learn. And Zoe had been normal.
A rift had been forming. It had been there and it had been deep and it could not be filled.
And that had only been the beginning. There had been more things.
What did she care about who was currently the most popular idol? What did she care if Rock Star A broke up with Model B? What Soccer Ace C was doing during freetime? Why should she care about what people on the other half of the earth did for that matter?
So long as it covered her basic needs, Zoe wanted as much allowance as possible, but unlike her classmates, by buying clothes and many, many survival unnecessary things she was working towards her future.
Zoe didn't care what great new functions the latest models of mobile phones were built for so long as they were capable of communication and changing into a D-tector.
At first, she had tried blaming the digital world. Everything that forced a rift, Zoe had told herself, was because of her world-saving stint.
But it hadn't worked.
Because in the end, Zoe liked the person she had become. Zoe liked that she was able to turn into a digimon and fight. And honestly, properly fight. Liked the power-rush. Liked to be able to tell relevant things apart from unimportant things, being practical.
Zoe liked her memories and the person she had become.
And if to fit in was to give all that up, then she did not want it.
It was the second most defining decision of her life.
Air filler her lungs and in that moment, Zoe thought it was the sweetest sensation of her life.
Then the headache hit and she groaned, rolling over and finding herself staring up in the face of a bewildered brunette.
"Who're you?" Zoe moaned, rubbing her temple in a vain hope to stop a hammer pounding against the inside of her skull. She tried sitting up, fumbled twice and discovered she had apparently been lying in the other girl's lap.
Embarrassing. But it could have been worse.
The slightly older girl's mouth moved, but no words came out. Zoe only noticed it on a side note, because, far more importantly, she gazed at her hand, looking for anything different. It looked the same. There was nothing different about it. Still the fine scars there, still the artfully shaped nails.
I don't look different. Do I feel different?
Oh yes.
Very different. Her skin was prickling, her mind felt uncontrollable, chaotic. Wild. She felt… Dare she think it – did it make her a bad person? Did it disrespect those who didn't deserve it? Did she care?
She felt better. Free. What was there to tell her what to do, what not to do, what to like, what not to like, what was suitable for a girl and what wasn't, what she was allowed to do, what she could do?
Nothing. Nothing besides her own feelings and will. Nothing besides who she was.
It left her without a ground to stand on, without a direction to follow.
What did she need a ground for when she had wings? Did directions not always mean only as much as the promise of the goal?
"I'm Zoe," she said, finally coming to some more to her senses. Somewhat. Introductions aren't all that important right now. Or are they? Come to think of it, where am I?
Her head was pounding so hard, it made her eyes blur. Blood was rushing in her ears like a drum. She pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes and focused on breathing. It didn't help and it irritated her.
"Uh," said the other girl, stuttering. "I – I'm, I mean – Wait! You're the one that got me here! It's your voice!"
What? What is she talking about? I couldn't exactly do much of anything for what feels like forever.
"I don't remember," Zoe commented, pained, forcing herself to push past the ache as she opened an eye. "But it's probably true. Thanks, I guess. For getting me out."
The other girl gaped at her. "'Thanks?' That is all you can say? How about 'sorry'! Have you looked around?!"
"No." There was no real need to. Her ears had caught the clanking of weapons and her nose the smell of combat. Fear. Desires. Fierceness. Blood lust. Blood. The hum of danger. "I didn't get hit by anything yet. And I can't do much with the...headache. Do you have any idea what it's like to erase parts of your personality?" She asked rhetorically, with some bite.
If only that damn headache would go away...
Zoe couldn't even think straight! There was a fight going on and she complained about a headache! Battle, fight, dangerous – Zoe was itching for it, to test herself. Damn that -
"ZOE!"
Her head shot up, but it was already too late. Something closed around her neck, smashed her against something solid and Zoe felt that solidness give way behind her. But it was that leaching texture that pierced right into her mind, blowing past everything else. No. No! Not again! NO!
Someone screamed. One voice was familiar, one was not. The grip on her neck was tight and merciless, and though by putting her everything into struggling, she was risking breaking her own neck, Zoe did not care.
She'd rather die than let herself be locked up in something that helplessly tight again. She'd kill for that.
And she wasn't Zoe anymore.
Bringing a claw sharply down, plasma spat into the air from the force of contact, some of it tickling against her cheek, her clawed feet digging into a solid body. Normally, bodies gave in or burst into data. This was like hitting a wall. Nothing gave, but someone growled.
A red eye glowed in front of her, furious. "You are just tools! For me! Created for my use and my domination! How dare you resist?!"
Shutmon's hidden mouth pulled into a fierce snarl and if she'd had the air to, she'd hiss right back.
"Stop it! What are you doing! Let go of her!" It was the girl from before. Anger and fear were in equal parts written on her face, tears in her eyes, and she was just a fragile human. Yet she had staggered to her feet and with her thin, breakable hands tried to pull a digimon so powerful it reeked off Shutmon.
What was she doing?!
"Mimi!" Shouted another panicked voice.
Thorned vines shot around the tall and evil digimon. They did nothing, unable to penetrate armor or even just the thick skin, but it seemed the twines weren't easily torn either, because the digimon was forced a step backwards by the pull.
An uproar from digimon of all kinds traveled through the air. Offended, indignant, furious, aggressive.
The hand opened around her neck, lest Shutmon got dragged along and away from the prison, instead leaving Shutmon half stuck in a mass that wanted to swallow her alive.
Another, more familiar roar drowned all the other digimon out. It was a high one, at least for the body it came from.
Garmmon's voice had a metallic edge to it that set it apart from other felines. The roar was followed by a blast of light and explosions. A Solar Laser. He sounded strangled.
But Shutmon had no time to worry about him, because the little girl was now trying with desperate and fumbling hands to pull her out of the waiting hands of her prison. Shutmon's wings were swallowed, her back too and all the weight she put forward could not stop her from being dragged backwards. When she had tried pushing away, one of her hands had not come back and the other one, the girl was not letting go of.
It was the wrong moment. She should think productively, anger and frustration and violent loathing were all racing under her skin, yet she could not stop herself from being stunned by the human. The girl who had no power, who was helpless, was risking her life with every shambled, babbled reassurance she tried to give ("It's alright! It's gonna be – I'm going to get you out of there. This isn't happening! Everything is fine."), who was desperate to help a person that had dragged her into this danger.
What was she thinking? She should leave fighting up to those that actually could do it!
The red eye was watching impassionedly, coldly, like waiting for a clock to stop ticking. It made her furious, made violence lick in the metal of her claws. "Your device," Shutmon hissed. "Use it."
The girl jumped and her wide eyes rounded further. Trembling with fright, she managed not to drop the little object and held it up, almost doubting for a moment, before she raised it against the pillar. It started glowing and Shutmon felt her bonds ease.
She risked a glance at the broad enemy digimon, no three meters away from her. Still watching red glowing eye narrowed, but the kind of berserker fury that took time to ignite and was all the stronger for it built under his skin.
A drop of anxiety festered in her stomach, but that was as far as it got, for that distant, that clinical disinterest made her angry more than anything.
Arrogance and confidence. Cruelty. They are a weakness. Playing with pray is what the foolish do.
Shutmon was not pray!
Wrenching her shoulders free, her clawed feet grated against the hard floor. One arm slung around the human, the other pointing a single claw. Faster than a bullet she shot forward when her wings broke free and beat. The pointed claw dug into soft matter with a slick feeling.
An agonized scream echoed through the hall and Shutmon's wide mouth was a wide, wicked grin. A single finger extended, she had aimed and hit the red eye. Oh, it was no true damage. That would have been far too easy. But it was painful.
And that was distracting.
The rose vines had torn apart under the energy strain the sheer fury created and Shutmon stood in a normal arm's reach, never mind the long bony arm's reach, as long as the enemy digimon was tall, but using that advantage was not an instinctive move. Every digimon was programmed for battle at least in some part. Those that were the higher evolutions, those that were powerful had combat experience, all of them and some instinctive reactions could be channeled into something different with practice, with mental preparation.
Shutmon had no doubt, that while this digimon had the experience to do so, he was too powerful a being, still forced to deal with the unexpected, and he had all but admitted that he was not used to resistance. Definitely not resistance when he let the weight of his fury bear down on someone. It gave openings. It gave chances.
Playing with food is inviting hunger.
Every predator knew that. This one was clearly human-typed.
She flapped her wings, lifted off the ground, vaulted over the digimon's head, spun and sent a one-handed Wind of Pain at it. As expected, it didn't do much. A Rosemon whipped a wave of attacking digimon into the ground, then came at her to fish the human from her arms.
Shutmon handed her over gladly, her mind racing a mile a second. In her bones, she already knew the only option they could take. Shutmon hated running. "Retreat." She whispered to the plant digimon, who, to her credit, only gave her a nod.
With a shout of "Rose Cradle!" red petals fell like snow and digimon dropped to the floor, not damaged, not defeated, only unconscious. It wouldn't hold long, not with this many, and so many moderately strong ones involved, but they didn't have to either. Distraction. Run.
Rosemon did, cradling the human in her arms as if she were a fragile cargo. Which she was, by current standards. Shutmon saw the girl look over the plant digimon's shoulder, afraid and full of dread. They raced towards one of the tunnels, Shutmon did not follow and when the girl realized, she started shouting.
And was wildly ignored, by all. The pain of stabbing out an eye was losing its effect quickly, and the digimon had gathered himself in the hardly half minute that had passed. The sleeping spell had had no effect on it either.
Shutmon shot towards Koji, collapsed in sleep and as human. Sleep? Battered? How much is he hurt?
Just as she had picked him up, a high pitched scream stabbed her ears.
No longer flying, Rosemon was crouching on the floor, in midst of waking enemies, holding the human with both hands and a Murmuxmon standing in their way. Not one of those again!
Murmuxmon were pathetic cowards and Shutmon had no patience to deal with one. She was fast, she was vicious and in another couple seconds she was right on top of the magician digimon and, with her arms holding her friend, used her momentum to power up a kick. Murmuxmon blocked, but Fairymon's kick still pushed it to the side. Digital code was still receding back under her alabaster skin when her butterfly feet softly touched the ground. She didn't smile.
Not needing any prompting, Rosemon stood up -
-and froze.
A shudder ran up and down Fairymon's spine, her head turning without her asking.
She found a terrifying sight.
All but shrouded in a visible sheen of dark energy, a bony arm trailing along the floor and creating a terrible grating noise. The not armored and hidden glimpses of his face were twisted into a mask of such fury, Fairymon had to fight not to back down at the sheer sight of it. Dark liquid glittered down a side of its face.
It was like watching a tidal wave build grow taller and taller in front of her, just waiting to crash down and drown her and all she fought for in its depths. A threat, a presence unlike anything she had ever experienced. As violent and evil as Lucemon's Satan Mode, but far, far more controlled. Like a typhoon condensed within a bottle.
Nervously, she swallowed.
There had to be something she could do. Something – some option...at least Koji-
Just when she had been on the verge of handing her comrade over to Rosemon to buy time for her to flee, but she never got that far either.
A sick, slurping sound, like jelly splashing on solid surface, drew all eyes to the ten columns. Like getting stretched, the columns grew thinner and thinner, until they snapped like rubber. A brown haired girl slumped to the ground. JP toppled to the floor, groaning. Four orbs of light floated suspended in the air, one of a metallic silver color, which shot off first, one a light brown, one a dark brown and one deep blue one, which made Fairymon irritated just by looking.
It streaked past her, formless, yet a ghost of Lanamon's smirk hung over it. Quickly followed by the remaining three hostless Spirits, the silence was absolute.
This is the chapter for December. There wasn't a chapter last month and to those who didn't notice, I always do put up a notice about it on my profile.
Introducing Zoe is one of those scenes that I have been thinking for as long as I have been writing this. I scrapped it often, thought up different situations and reactions, but her character mostly always stayed the same. She is the only girl in a band of boys and the only one who actually managed to control her beast spirit the first time she used it. And she was only twelve when she did it. Shutmon didn't exactly strike me as the nice bird-woman next door either. For those reasons, her character has always been fascinating to me and I had been looking forward to introducing and writing her. She is probably my favorite character out of all seasons.
About Palmon's evolution...I had always been thinking that if I evolved her higher, it would not be to Rosemon. In the end I didn't have much choice. The digimon wiki I'm getting most my facts from had only either Rosemon or some flying cactus that didn't look very female at all. So Rosemon it was. On the upside, there is much material on Rosemon. I guess I shouldn't complain...
Do you have suggestions? Critique? Likes? Dislikes? Complains? Or things you noticed?
TBC.