Yamato Ishida (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
angry_friendship_wolf) wrote2021-07-10 12:10 am
angry_friendship_wolf) wrote2021-07-10 12:10 am
[tri OOM] More Episodes
“All teams are safely in the Digital World,” Koushiro says, as the Gate above Odaiba shuts. His fingers blur across his laptop’s keyboard, running scans and simulations, flicking between windows. “We’ll hear back from them when they reach Network points.”
Taichi shrugs. “And in the meantime, I guess everyone will be having -- …”
“Don’t say it,” Yamato mutters.
“I’m just saying -- …”
“Don’t.”
“That it’ll be very episodic -- …”
“Do not -- ...”
The Mimi Episode.
The first thing Mimi realises when she, Miyako, and Daisuke arrive in the Great Lake Area is that none, none of the people on this Meicoomon Hunt, have ever seen Meicoomon.
She sees a lot of Digimon being pursued by gaggles of hunters painted in red, blue, and yellow: She sees Gekomon, and Otamamon, and Golemon, and Bearmon, but she doesn’t see a single orange cat, or anything that resembles Meicoomon even in passing.
“This is a mess,” Miyako mutters.
“We’ve got to put a stop to this,” Daisuke adds.
Mimi takes two steps forward, hopping up onto a rock to give herself a few feet of extra height, and loops her fingers into her mouth, letting out a shrill whistle. She doesn’t just let the sound do the work: As the noise ripples out across the shoreline, a wave of colourful flowers bloom, stretching tall.
It gets the hunters’ attention. It gets everyone’s attention.
“It is I,” Mimi says dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. “Meicoomon. Take me to your leaders.”
---
“My mons caught her first,” Oujamon, who Mimi can only describe as a giant blue pro-wrestler with four arms and a lion’s head, snarls. “That means she’s mine.”
“Nuh-uh. She was in an area I’d already claimed,” Globemon, some kind of red superhero android, replies. “She’s mine.”
Behind them, Entermon, a kind of bright yellow DJ rabbit with speakers strapped to him, strums a guitar somberly.
“Maybe none of you caught her,” Daisuke says, popping out from behind Mimi, as V-Mon nods gravely on his shoulder. “Philosophically speaking. Since she turned herself in.”
“It’s a failure for the whole hunt,” Miyako agrees, popping out at Mimi’s other side, a stern looking Hawkmon nodding along. “Since it isn’t really a test of skill anymore. Philosophically speaking.”
“Philosophically speaking,” Daisuke adds.
The three Digimon peer at them. Oujamon blinks. Then Globemon. Then Entermon.
“A contest of skill,” Oujamon rumbles.
“So be it,” Globemon declares, curling his hand into a fist. “We will compete to see who claims her.”
“Right, right,” Miyako says. “But -- we have a claim on her too, you know? It’s only natural.”
“So we should be allowed to compete too,” Daisuke adds. “It’s only natural.”
“It’s only natural,” Miyako agrees.
---
The first competition is wrestling. Mimi evolves Palmon for the task, sending Togemon, in all her prickly, cactus-oid glory, out onto the field.
She proves an easy match for Entermon, and even manages to wrestle Globemon down, but Oujamon defeats her, standing victorious over her.
“So, that’s …” Globemon frowns. “Entermon in last place, then myself, then Togemon, then Oujamon. No points for Entermon, one for me, two for Togemon, three for Oujamon. Is that fair?”
“That seems fair,” Daisuke says solemnly.
“Seems fair,” Miyako adds.
---
The second contest is music. Mimi steps up to sing, only to be told that she can’t sing, she’s the Meicoomon here, she’s the prisoner. Everybody knows prisoners don’t sing.
“Everybody knows,” Daisuke says.
“Everybody knows,” Miyako agrees.
Daisuke and Miyako take her place instead. Mimi can already tell, straight off the bat, that they’ll never defeat Entermon, but luckily Oujamon sings like an out-of-tune accordion, and Globemon isn’t much better.
“Oujamon in last place,” Entermon says. “Globemon in third place, the fleshy team in second, and me in first. That means zero for Oujamon, one for Globemon, two for the fleshies, three for me. That’s fair, yes?”
“Seems fair,” Miyako says.
Daisuke wordlessly gives a thumbs up.
---
The final contest is tag -- or at least a kind of tag, in teams divided into a runner and a tagger -- and Mimi is starting to suspect that these three have the minds of children.
Miyako and Daisuke evolve Hawkmon and V-Mon, letting Shurimon and Lighdramon take the field as their representatives, while each of the other three competitors bring along one of their hunters.
Lighdramon tags. Shurimon runs -- or, Mimi supposes, actually it’s more like he hides. Either way, when the match is over, she’s pretty sure they’ve eked out second place, losing out only to Globemon and his ability to search and locate any Digimon.
“So that’s Entermon in last place,” Oujamon says. “Myself in third, Team Chosen in second, and Globemon in first. Zero, one, two, three points. Which means …”
His gaze falls on Daisuke and Miyako, already untying Mimi’s ropes.
“Seems fair,” Daisuke chirps.
“Seems very fair,” Miyako adds.
---
An agreement is hashed out. Oujamon, Globemon, and Entermon will leave TonosamaGekomon’s territory and return to their own, taking their hunters with them, and forget about trying to hunt down Meicoomon.
“Any violence?” Yamato asks later, when Mimi finds a Network point.
“Not unless you count a little bit of wrestling,” Mimi says airily. “I’m a born diplomat.”
“I wonder. Daisuke, find a Gate and report back here. Mimi, Miyako, rendezvous with Jyou at the East Server Sea and provide back-up.”
The Sora Episode.
Centalmon was right. There are people watching the Temple.
Sora sees them after two days of reconnaissance, just three reddish figures moving around the treeline, barely visible from where she’s circling above on Birdramon.
“Takeru-kun, Ken-kun,” she says into her earpiece, giving it a quick tap. “I think I see our targets. Running the Analyser now.”
“Stingmon and I have eyes on them, too,” Ken replies. “They’ve got rope and cutting tools, and what looks like some makeshift camouflage cloaks. It almost looks like they’re planning a heist.”
“If they actually try to steal something, we’re going to have to scrap the whole ‘recon only’ part of this mission,” Takeru says.
“I’ll take responsibility for that myself,” Sora replies. Her phone gives a loud, high-pitched beep as the Analyser finishes scanning them, and she holds it up, frowning. “FlaWizarmon and Witchmon. Both Adult-level Demon Man Digimon, and Revivemon, a Perfect-level Restoration Dragon Digimon.”
“All magic-users,” Ken says. “If they decide to pick a fight, Centalmon won’t be a match for them.”
“Ken-kun, keep watching them,” Sora says. “I need to make a report.”
---
“That’s troubling,” Yamato says, his holographic image flickering and buzzing. The Network point in the File Island Factory isn’t the strongest one, but unless she wants to fly up to the top of Infinity Mountain, it’s the best Sora reckons she’ll get. “Any idea what they want?”
“There are blueprints for digivices, tags, and limiters in the Temple,” Koushiro says from somewhere off the far edge of the holographic image. “That’s the only thing worth stealing. Centalmon won’t give those up without a fight.”
“If he tries fighting them, he’ll lose, and we don’t know that they won’t kill him,” Sora says. “Do I have permission to intervene?”
Yamato arches an eyebrow. “I assume you’re asking out of courtesy, because we both know you’ll intervene no matter what I say.”
Sora gives him a faint smile. Yamato doesn’t smile back, but that’s normal for him.
“You have my permission, anyway, for whatever it’s worth. Centalmon’s a valuable ally.”
“Noted. I’ll keep you updated.”
---
It’s only a few days before the heist goes ahead.
It’s not subtle. The three Digimon bust straight through the eastern wall of the Temple, leaving a plume of smoke and dust rising high in the air. Even if Ken hadn’t been watching them and contacted her as soon as the Digimon started moving, Sora still would have felt the shaking and seen the smoke.
She has Ken pursue them directly, while she and Takeru enter through the southward facing doors, making their way through the labyrinth to box them in. Every so often, she hears Centalmon’s hooves clattering on stone, as he makes his own pursuit of the thieves.
They trap the thieves in the blueprint room, Sora and Takeru approaching from one side with Piyomon and Patamon on their shoulders, Ken and Stingmon from another, and Centalmon from a third. Up close, she can see that Witchmon and FlaWizarmon look almost like Wizarmon did, both human-sized ragdolls in pointed hats, while Revivemon, the odd one out, is some kind of black, metal-coated dragon, with one massive head on the end of its torso and a smaller one attached to a long neck.
“You’re surrounded,” Sora says. “But if you agree to leave peacefully, we can escort you outside and finish this without any violence.”
Revivemon’s response is to open the mouth on its chest, charging a fireball between its teeth. Sora supposes that’s as clear a response as any.
---
The room isn’t large enough to evolve Piyomon into Garudamon, not without smashing through the ceiling, but it’s large enough for Birdramon to fly in -- which, Sora learns, also means it’s large enough for Witchmon to fly, and their battle takes them to the air.
On the ground, Centalmon engages FlaWizarmon, while Stingmon and Angemon battle Revivemon in a flurry of swords and staffs and sharp teeth.
As Witchmon fires off blasts of water, Birdramon twists, corkscrewing around them and spreading her wings just in time to drive talons into the other Digimon, slamming her up against the far wall. A blast of fire later and the battle is over, Witchmon scattering into cubes of data.
Centalmon is the next to finish his opponent, blasting FlaWizarmon apart with a ray of sunlight. Revivemon falls last, as Angemon knocks him back, only for Stingmon to sweep a pink energy blade across his chest, and his form collapses into data.
Sora expects them to leave nothing behind. That’s what usually happens. Instead, three metal shapes drop to the ground.
“Medallions?” Takeru asks, picking one up. It’s golden, with the shape of a goat’s head outlined in white on it, with two purple gems for eyes. “I don’t recognise the symbol.”
“I think I might,” Ken says. His brow furrows into a frown. “I think it’s the mark of Mephistomon, a, er, reclusive magic-wielding Digimon from Server Continent. If they’re carrying this, then they were working for him.”
---
Yamato frowns when Sora tells him about the medallion.
“So we have someone else to worry about,” Yamato says. “All right. There’s no way you’re getting to Server, so secure the island and return. We’ll figure out what to do from there.”
The Hikari Episode.
Mephistomon turns out to be a problem that comes to them.
It’s a day after Sora, Takeru, and Ken return; two days after Daisuke returns, that the Odaiba Gate crashes open and Mephistomon, a puffy-sleeved goatman with his head encased in porcelain, materialises above the city and starts pulling in data.
He’s followed by a swarm of Evilmon, bat-like gremlins the size of a small child, with sharp claws and wicked electrical attacks, numbering in the hundreds of thousands. Yamato’s not sure he’s ever seen them show up as individuals, only ever as a swarm that blackens the sky.
His hand is on his digivice before anyone says anything, pouring power into it, before a sharp pain rockets up through his body and cuts off the flow of energy. Next to him, he sees the same thing happen to Taichi. Their injuries are still fresh, and the jarring, wild process of releasing the searing energy of a Crest threatens to rip them apart every time they try.
“Sora, Takeru, Koushiro, Ken, Daisuke, we’ll leave this in your hands,” Yamato says with a grimace, sitting back down. Gabumon settles next to him, looking just as pained as he is, one paw pressed to his side.
What Yamato’s not entirely expecting is for Hikari to rise from her seat. Taichi’s sister harbours a celestial Crest like his and Taichi’s, equal in power to the both of them, but she rarely fights if it can be avoided. Now, as she steps towards the safehouse balcony with Tailmon wrapped around her shoulders, her eyes flare pink, and the blue skies above darken into a field of stars and nebulae.
Birdramon, Angemon, Kabuterimon, Stingmon, and Lighdramon leave first, their respective Chosen on their backs. Then, in a flash of rose pink light, Angewomon ascends from the balcony, with Hikari perched on her shoulder.
---
“We can’t make any headway. Mephistomon’s got … ghost-zombies of FlaWizarmon, Witchmon, and Mistymon, and every time we take out an Evilmon, he replaces them with a ghost-zombie copy,” Sora says, over the sounds of battle.
“Then we cut him off at the source,” Taichi says.
“Sora, Koushiro, Ken, Takeru, clear a path through the air,” Yamato says, “give Hikari a path to him.”
---
The death of Mephistomon is dramatic, even from where Yamato’s stuck in the safehouse. A burst of light, the sky momentarily glittering with too-bright stars, and a wave of force and intent that he can feel his Crest respond to, his limiter pendant burning icy cold.
The light fades eventually, and so does the fierce cold of his limiter, back to its regular comforting chill.
“Guess that solves the problem of Mephistomon and his coven,” Taichi says. “Here’s hoping Jyou’s team is doing okay.”
The Jyou Episode.
“Arr, finally arrived, have you?” CaptainHookmon grumbles as Jyou clambers off Ikkakumon and onto the ship’s deck. “Where be your friend?”
“Iori’s below the surface, inside Submarimon,” Jyou replies, sliding his glasses up his nose. “Who do we have?”
“Five ships, and maybe a dozen seafarin’ Digimon besides that,” CaptainHookmon says. “A poor force for conducting a siege.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Jyou says. “When the battle starts, I’ll take point with Vikemon. Everyone else just needs to focus on freeing all the prisoners.”
“Aye, I’ll spread the word.”
---
The Ironworks Trading Company operates out of a ship of gunmetal-grey iron so large that Jyou’s almost certain it wouldn’t even be able to move without the waves shaking it apart if it were made from Earth materials and subject to Earth physics. As it comes into view, it looks more like an angry cloud than a ship, as the billowing smokestacks shroud it in a cloak of black smog.
“Ready, Ikkakumon?” He asks the Digimon under him. Iori and Submarimon, zipping along at his side, choose this moment to dart away, diving to the bottom of the seafloor as only they can.
“Ready,” Ikkakumon rumbles in reply.
Jyou looks over at the ship next to him, giving CaptainHookmon a nod, and pulls away from the fleet, out into open waters, pulling his digivice from his belt.
He breathes out, and undoes the mental latches on his power, letting the energy thumping in his chest seep out. The water around him responds immediately: The air grows humid, swampy, and the seas roil up around him, splashing him with ocean spray. Taichi might rule the sun, and Yamato the moon, and Sora the skies, and Koushiro the flashing of thunder, but the Crest of Reliability is the master of the seas, from the surface waves to the deep, still abyss, and the more of his power he lets flow out, the more he feels it seep into the code of the ocean around him.
It swirls up around him and Ikkakumon, engulfing them in a waterspout as grey light spills from his digivice.
“Ikkakumon, warp evolution. Vikemon.”
Vikemon is big, and white, and armoured, and he makes an impression, which is what Jyou is counting on. As the Ironworks Trading Company funnels its forces towards him, he lashes out with his flails, sending surf scattering up into skyscraper tall plumes.
While they focus on him, Jyou hopes that Iori and the rest of their forces are making their way to the prisoners, freeing and evacuating them. Iori’s reliable enough, even if a part of Jyou wishes he was there to micro-manage.
The problem comes when a hatch on the Ironworks’ ship’s side opens, and a hulking, gleaming Digimon Jyou’s never seen before comes crashing out.
“MarinChimairamon,” the Analyser chirps. “Perfect-level Vaccine-attribute Composite Digimon.”
Jyou thinks he recognises parts of it. Gesomon’s tentacles, Ebidramon’s claw, a Coelamon’s face, even the mane and horn of an Ikkakumon. Someone really frankensteined together every sea monster they could think of.
“All right,” he murmurs, adjusting his glasses. “I guess we’re doing this.”
---
Flail meets pincer, again and again, accompanied by flashes of lightning and bursts of ice, but Jyou and Vikemon can’t seem to gain any ground (well, water) against MarinChimairamon, stuck in an endless stalemate.
It’s only a Perfect-level. It should be no match for Vikemon, an Ultimate-level who dispenses with speed and flashiness in favour of raw strength. But here it is, matching them blow for blow, which means that someone, whoever put this monster together, has been meddling with its code.
(Maybe, he reflects, that’s why it hasn’t spoken, why there seems to be no light behind its eyes. Someone amped up its power, but turned it into a mindless beast in the process.)
“Kido-senpai,” Iori says, his voice buzzing in Jyou’s earpiece. “We’ve freed the prisoners. Making our escape.”
“We’ll cover your escape,” Jyou replies. “Besides, this company tried to take slaves, we should at least make a little bit of an example of them, eh?”
MarinChimairamon’s claw crashes against Vikemon’s cheek, and he reels back, ponderously slow like a man in a suit in an 80s Godzilla movie, and comes swinging back in, flail crashing against the other Digimon’s forehead hard enough to crack its armour.
Jyou touches his fingertips to his cheek, grimacing as they come away bloody.
He’s still looking at the blood on his fingertips when flower petals come fluttering by him. A few lily petals, and a few rose petals.
“Oh,” he says softly.
“The cavalry’s here, Jyou-senpai!” Mimi says, sing-song over his earpiece.
A pink blast lands against MarinChimairamon’s back, sending it staggering, and it turns just as Jyou looks up, to see Rosemon, with Mimi on her shoulder, descending onto the battlefield, both hands pressed to the jewel at her neck.
“Forbidden Temptation,” she intones, flinging out her arms, a wave of light and rose petals bursting out. The great iron ship crumples, flames bursting out across its hull, as MarinChimairamon staggers again, armour cracking.
Vikemon takes the opportunity, driving his flails down onto the other Digimon’s head, armour shattering. With a roar of pain and fury, MarinChimairamon sinks into the water, scattering into cubes of data as it falls beneath the surface.
The ship is sinking as well, but there are smaller boats fleeing from it, fast zippy things that make a beeline for the distant shore. Jyou lets them go.
---
“Any casualties among the freed prisoners?” Yamato asks when Jyou makes his report.
“None. I checked them all myself,” Jyou replies.
“Good work, then. Find a gate and make your way back here. With luck, Ironworks will take the hint. If they don’t, we’ll deal with them.”
Taichi shrugs. “And in the meantime, I guess everyone will be having -- …”
“Don’t say it,” Yamato mutters.
“I’m just saying -- …”
“Don’t.”
“That it’ll be very episodic -- …”
“Do not -- ...”
The first thing Mimi realises when she, Miyako, and Daisuke arrive in the Great Lake Area is that none, none of the people on this Meicoomon Hunt, have ever seen Meicoomon.
She sees a lot of Digimon being pursued by gaggles of hunters painted in red, blue, and yellow: She sees Gekomon, and Otamamon, and Golemon, and Bearmon, but she doesn’t see a single orange cat, or anything that resembles Meicoomon even in passing.
“This is a mess,” Miyako mutters.
“We’ve got to put a stop to this,” Daisuke adds.
Mimi takes two steps forward, hopping up onto a rock to give herself a few feet of extra height, and loops her fingers into her mouth, letting out a shrill whistle. She doesn’t just let the sound do the work: As the noise ripples out across the shoreline, a wave of colourful flowers bloom, stretching tall.
It gets the hunters’ attention. It gets everyone’s attention.
“It is I,” Mimi says dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. “Meicoomon. Take me to your leaders.”
“My mons caught her first,” Oujamon, who Mimi can only describe as a giant blue pro-wrestler with four arms and a lion’s head, snarls. “That means she’s mine.”
“Nuh-uh. She was in an area I’d already claimed,” Globemon, some kind of red superhero android, replies. “She’s mine.”
Behind them, Entermon, a kind of bright yellow DJ rabbit with speakers strapped to him, strums a guitar somberly.
“Maybe none of you caught her,” Daisuke says, popping out from behind Mimi, as V-Mon nods gravely on his shoulder. “Philosophically speaking. Since she turned herself in.”
“It’s a failure for the whole hunt,” Miyako agrees, popping out at Mimi’s other side, a stern looking Hawkmon nodding along. “Since it isn’t really a test of skill anymore. Philosophically speaking.”
“Philosophically speaking,” Daisuke adds.
The three Digimon peer at them. Oujamon blinks. Then Globemon. Then Entermon.
“A contest of skill,” Oujamon rumbles.
“So be it,” Globemon declares, curling his hand into a fist. “We will compete to see who claims her.”
“Right, right,” Miyako says. “But -- we have a claim on her too, you know? It’s only natural.”
“So we should be allowed to compete too,” Daisuke adds. “It’s only natural.”
“It’s only natural,” Miyako agrees.
The first competition is wrestling. Mimi evolves Palmon for the task, sending Togemon, in all her prickly, cactus-oid glory, out onto the field.
She proves an easy match for Entermon, and even manages to wrestle Globemon down, but Oujamon defeats her, standing victorious over her.
“So, that’s …” Globemon frowns. “Entermon in last place, then myself, then Togemon, then Oujamon. No points for Entermon, one for me, two for Togemon, three for Oujamon. Is that fair?”
“That seems fair,” Daisuke says solemnly.
“Seems fair,” Miyako adds.
The second contest is music. Mimi steps up to sing, only to be told that she can’t sing, she’s the Meicoomon here, she’s the prisoner. Everybody knows prisoners don’t sing.
“Everybody knows,” Daisuke says.
“Everybody knows,” Miyako agrees.
Daisuke and Miyako take her place instead. Mimi can already tell, straight off the bat, that they’ll never defeat Entermon, but luckily Oujamon sings like an out-of-tune accordion, and Globemon isn’t much better.
“Oujamon in last place,” Entermon says. “Globemon in third place, the fleshy team in second, and me in first. That means zero for Oujamon, one for Globemon, two for the fleshies, three for me. That’s fair, yes?”
“Seems fair,” Miyako says.
Daisuke wordlessly gives a thumbs up.
The final contest is tag -- or at least a kind of tag, in teams divided into a runner and a tagger -- and Mimi is starting to suspect that these three have the minds of children.
Miyako and Daisuke evolve Hawkmon and V-Mon, letting Shurimon and Lighdramon take the field as their representatives, while each of the other three competitors bring along one of their hunters.
Lighdramon tags. Shurimon runs -- or, Mimi supposes, actually it’s more like he hides. Either way, when the match is over, she’s pretty sure they’ve eked out second place, losing out only to Globemon and his ability to search and locate any Digimon.
“So that’s Entermon in last place,” Oujamon says. “Myself in third, Team Chosen in second, and Globemon in first. Zero, one, two, three points. Which means …”
His gaze falls on Daisuke and Miyako, already untying Mimi’s ropes.
“Seems fair,” Daisuke chirps.
“Seems very fair,” Miyako adds.
An agreement is hashed out. Oujamon, Globemon, and Entermon will leave TonosamaGekomon’s territory and return to their own, taking their hunters with them, and forget about trying to hunt down Meicoomon.
“Any violence?” Yamato asks later, when Mimi finds a Network point.
“Not unless you count a little bit of wrestling,” Mimi says airily. “I’m a born diplomat.”
“I wonder. Daisuke, find a Gate and report back here. Mimi, Miyako, rendezvous with Jyou at the East Server Sea and provide back-up.”
Centalmon was right. There are people watching the Temple.
Sora sees them after two days of reconnaissance, just three reddish figures moving around the treeline, barely visible from where she’s circling above on Birdramon.
“Takeru-kun, Ken-kun,” she says into her earpiece, giving it a quick tap. “I think I see our targets. Running the Analyser now.”
“Stingmon and I have eyes on them, too,” Ken replies. “They’ve got rope and cutting tools, and what looks like some makeshift camouflage cloaks. It almost looks like they’re planning a heist.”
“If they actually try to steal something, we’re going to have to scrap the whole ‘recon only’ part of this mission,” Takeru says.
“I’ll take responsibility for that myself,” Sora replies. Her phone gives a loud, high-pitched beep as the Analyser finishes scanning them, and she holds it up, frowning. “FlaWizarmon and Witchmon. Both Adult-level Demon Man Digimon, and Revivemon, a Perfect-level Restoration Dragon Digimon.”
“All magic-users,” Ken says. “If they decide to pick a fight, Centalmon won’t be a match for them.”
“Ken-kun, keep watching them,” Sora says. “I need to make a report.”
---
“That’s troubling,” Yamato says, his holographic image flickering and buzzing. The Network point in the File Island Factory isn’t the strongest one, but unless she wants to fly up to the top of Infinity Mountain, it’s the best Sora reckons she’ll get. “Any idea what they want?”
“There are blueprints for digivices, tags, and limiters in the Temple,” Koushiro says from somewhere off the far edge of the holographic image. “That’s the only thing worth stealing. Centalmon won’t give those up without a fight.”
“If he tries fighting them, he’ll lose, and we don’t know that they won’t kill him,” Sora says. “Do I have permission to intervene?”
Yamato arches an eyebrow. “I assume you’re asking out of courtesy, because we both know you’ll intervene no matter what I say.”
Sora gives him a faint smile. Yamato doesn’t smile back, but that’s normal for him.
“You have my permission, anyway, for whatever it’s worth. Centalmon’s a valuable ally.”
“Noted. I’ll keep you updated.”
It’s only a few days before the heist goes ahead.
It’s not subtle. The three Digimon bust straight through the eastern wall of the Temple, leaving a plume of smoke and dust rising high in the air. Even if Ken hadn’t been watching them and contacted her as soon as the Digimon started moving, Sora still would have felt the shaking and seen the smoke.
She has Ken pursue them directly, while she and Takeru enter through the southward facing doors, making their way through the labyrinth to box them in. Every so often, she hears Centalmon’s hooves clattering on stone, as he makes his own pursuit of the thieves.
They trap the thieves in the blueprint room, Sora and Takeru approaching from one side with Piyomon and Patamon on their shoulders, Ken and Stingmon from another, and Centalmon from a third. Up close, she can see that Witchmon and FlaWizarmon look almost like Wizarmon did, both human-sized ragdolls in pointed hats, while Revivemon, the odd one out, is some kind of black, metal-coated dragon, with one massive head on the end of its torso and a smaller one attached to a long neck.
“You’re surrounded,” Sora says. “But if you agree to leave peacefully, we can escort you outside and finish this without any violence.”
Revivemon’s response is to open the mouth on its chest, charging a fireball between its teeth. Sora supposes that’s as clear a response as any.
The room isn’t large enough to evolve Piyomon into Garudamon, not without smashing through the ceiling, but it’s large enough for Birdramon to fly in -- which, Sora learns, also means it’s large enough for Witchmon to fly, and their battle takes them to the air.
On the ground, Centalmon engages FlaWizarmon, while Stingmon and Angemon battle Revivemon in a flurry of swords and staffs and sharp teeth.
As Witchmon fires off blasts of water, Birdramon twists, corkscrewing around them and spreading her wings just in time to drive talons into the other Digimon, slamming her up against the far wall. A blast of fire later and the battle is over, Witchmon scattering into cubes of data.
Centalmon is the next to finish his opponent, blasting FlaWizarmon apart with a ray of sunlight. Revivemon falls last, as Angemon knocks him back, only for Stingmon to sweep a pink energy blade across his chest, and his form collapses into data.
Sora expects them to leave nothing behind. That’s what usually happens. Instead, three metal shapes drop to the ground.
“Medallions?” Takeru asks, picking one up. It’s golden, with the shape of a goat’s head outlined in white on it, with two purple gems for eyes. “I don’t recognise the symbol.”
“I think I might,” Ken says. His brow furrows into a frown. “I think it’s the mark of Mephistomon, a, er, reclusive magic-wielding Digimon from Server Continent. If they’re carrying this, then they were working for him.”
Yamato frowns when Sora tells him about the medallion.
“So we have someone else to worry about,” Yamato says. “All right. There’s no way you’re getting to Server, so secure the island and return. We’ll figure out what to do from there.”
Mephistomon turns out to be a problem that comes to them.
It’s a day after Sora, Takeru, and Ken return; two days after Daisuke returns, that the Odaiba Gate crashes open and Mephistomon, a puffy-sleeved goatman with his head encased in porcelain, materialises above the city and starts pulling in data.
He’s followed by a swarm of Evilmon, bat-like gremlins the size of a small child, with sharp claws and wicked electrical attacks, numbering in the hundreds of thousands. Yamato’s not sure he’s ever seen them show up as individuals, only ever as a swarm that blackens the sky.
His hand is on his digivice before anyone says anything, pouring power into it, before a sharp pain rockets up through his body and cuts off the flow of energy. Next to him, he sees the same thing happen to Taichi. Their injuries are still fresh, and the jarring, wild process of releasing the searing energy of a Crest threatens to rip them apart every time they try.
“Sora, Takeru, Koushiro, Ken, Daisuke, we’ll leave this in your hands,” Yamato says with a grimace, sitting back down. Gabumon settles next to him, looking just as pained as he is, one paw pressed to his side.
What Yamato’s not entirely expecting is for Hikari to rise from her seat. Taichi’s sister harbours a celestial Crest like his and Taichi’s, equal in power to the both of them, but she rarely fights if it can be avoided. Now, as she steps towards the safehouse balcony with Tailmon wrapped around her shoulders, her eyes flare pink, and the blue skies above darken into a field of stars and nebulae.
Birdramon, Angemon, Kabuterimon, Stingmon, and Lighdramon leave first, their respective Chosen on their backs. Then, in a flash of rose pink light, Angewomon ascends from the balcony, with Hikari perched on her shoulder.
“We can’t make any headway. Mephistomon’s got … ghost-zombies of FlaWizarmon, Witchmon, and Mistymon, and every time we take out an Evilmon, he replaces them with a ghost-zombie copy,” Sora says, over the sounds of battle.
“Then we cut him off at the source,” Taichi says.
“Sora, Koushiro, Ken, Takeru, clear a path through the air,” Yamato says, “give Hikari a path to him.”
The death of Mephistomon is dramatic, even from where Yamato’s stuck in the safehouse. A burst of light, the sky momentarily glittering with too-bright stars, and a wave of force and intent that he can feel his Crest respond to, his limiter pendant burning icy cold.
The light fades eventually, and so does the fierce cold of his limiter, back to its regular comforting chill.
“Guess that solves the problem of Mephistomon and his coven,” Taichi says. “Here’s hoping Jyou’s team is doing okay.”
“Arr, finally arrived, have you?” CaptainHookmon grumbles as Jyou clambers off Ikkakumon and onto the ship’s deck. “Where be your friend?”
“Iori’s below the surface, inside Submarimon,” Jyou replies, sliding his glasses up his nose. “Who do we have?”
“Five ships, and maybe a dozen seafarin’ Digimon besides that,” CaptainHookmon says. “A poor force for conducting a siege.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Jyou says. “When the battle starts, I’ll take point with Vikemon. Everyone else just needs to focus on freeing all the prisoners.”
“Aye, I’ll spread the word.”
The Ironworks Trading Company operates out of a ship of gunmetal-grey iron so large that Jyou’s almost certain it wouldn’t even be able to move without the waves shaking it apart if it were made from Earth materials and subject to Earth physics. As it comes into view, it looks more like an angry cloud than a ship, as the billowing smokestacks shroud it in a cloak of black smog.
“Ready, Ikkakumon?” He asks the Digimon under him. Iori and Submarimon, zipping along at his side, choose this moment to dart away, diving to the bottom of the seafloor as only they can.
“Ready,” Ikkakumon rumbles in reply.
Jyou looks over at the ship next to him, giving CaptainHookmon a nod, and pulls away from the fleet, out into open waters, pulling his digivice from his belt.
He breathes out, and undoes the mental latches on his power, letting the energy thumping in his chest seep out. The water around him responds immediately: The air grows humid, swampy, and the seas roil up around him, splashing him with ocean spray. Taichi might rule the sun, and Yamato the moon, and Sora the skies, and Koushiro the flashing of thunder, but the Crest of Reliability is the master of the seas, from the surface waves to the deep, still abyss, and the more of his power he lets flow out, the more he feels it seep into the code of the ocean around him.
It swirls up around him and Ikkakumon, engulfing them in a waterspout as grey light spills from his digivice.
“Ikkakumon, warp evolution. Vikemon.”
Vikemon is big, and white, and armoured, and he makes an impression, which is what Jyou is counting on. As the Ironworks Trading Company funnels its forces towards him, he lashes out with his flails, sending surf scattering up into skyscraper tall plumes.
While they focus on him, Jyou hopes that Iori and the rest of their forces are making their way to the prisoners, freeing and evacuating them. Iori’s reliable enough, even if a part of Jyou wishes he was there to micro-manage.
The problem comes when a hatch on the Ironworks’ ship’s side opens, and a hulking, gleaming Digimon Jyou’s never seen before comes crashing out.
“MarinChimairamon,” the Analyser chirps. “Perfect-level Vaccine-attribute Composite Digimon.”
Jyou thinks he recognises parts of it. Gesomon’s tentacles, Ebidramon’s claw, a Coelamon’s face, even the mane and horn of an Ikkakumon. Someone really frankensteined together every sea monster they could think of.
“All right,” he murmurs, adjusting his glasses. “I guess we’re doing this.”
Flail meets pincer, again and again, accompanied by flashes of lightning and bursts of ice, but Jyou and Vikemon can’t seem to gain any ground (well, water) against MarinChimairamon, stuck in an endless stalemate.
It’s only a Perfect-level. It should be no match for Vikemon, an Ultimate-level who dispenses with speed and flashiness in favour of raw strength. But here it is, matching them blow for blow, which means that someone, whoever put this monster together, has been meddling with its code.
(Maybe, he reflects, that’s why it hasn’t spoken, why there seems to be no light behind its eyes. Someone amped up its power, but turned it into a mindless beast in the process.)
“Kido-senpai,” Iori says, his voice buzzing in Jyou’s earpiece. “We’ve freed the prisoners. Making our escape.”
“We’ll cover your escape,” Jyou replies. “Besides, this company tried to take slaves, we should at least make a little bit of an example of them, eh?”
MarinChimairamon’s claw crashes against Vikemon’s cheek, and he reels back, ponderously slow like a man in a suit in an 80s Godzilla movie, and comes swinging back in, flail crashing against the other Digimon’s forehead hard enough to crack its armour.
Jyou touches his fingertips to his cheek, grimacing as they come away bloody.
He’s still looking at the blood on his fingertips when flower petals come fluttering by him. A few lily petals, and a few rose petals.
“Oh,” he says softly.
“The cavalry’s here, Jyou-senpai!” Mimi says, sing-song over his earpiece.
A pink blast lands against MarinChimairamon’s back, sending it staggering, and it turns just as Jyou looks up, to see Rosemon, with Mimi on her shoulder, descending onto the battlefield, both hands pressed to the jewel at her neck.
“Forbidden Temptation,” she intones, flinging out her arms, a wave of light and rose petals bursting out. The great iron ship crumples, flames bursting out across its hull, as MarinChimairamon staggers again, armour cracking.
Vikemon takes the opportunity, driving his flails down onto the other Digimon’s head, armour shattering. With a roar of pain and fury, MarinChimairamon sinks into the water, scattering into cubes of data as it falls beneath the surface.
The ship is sinking as well, but there are smaller boats fleeing from it, fast zippy things that make a beeline for the distant shore. Jyou lets them go.
“Any casualties among the freed prisoners?” Yamato asks when Jyou makes his report.
“None. I checked them all myself,” Jyou replies.
“Good work, then. Find a gate and make your way back here. With luck, Ironworks will take the hint. If they don’t, we’ll deal with them.”