Yamato Ishida (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
angry_friendship_wolf) wrote2021-07-26 07:30 pm
angry_friendship_wolf) wrote2021-07-26 07:30 pm
[tri OOM] Luminamon and the Undead
Luminamon sprints across the plains of File Island, as behind her a bank of fog pursues, rolling across the earth after her. If she looks back, she can see a skeletal shape in the mists, something huge and winged, with wisps of red light glaring out of cavernous eye sockets.
There. A distortion, opening just ahead. Luminamon rebounds off a rock and dives into it, shutting her eyes as it flings her through a field of red and black and spits her out on the other side.
---
The Vademon make their home in the interior of a Cometmon, a strange space full of bizarre angles and geometry that makes no sense to Gennai’s eye. He stays close to the guide, keeping one eye on them and one on Doumon trailing behind him, until they eventually reach the main room.
He can see the ring of tanks, three occupied by the still-screaming shapes of MarinChimairamon, Revivemon, and Mephistomon, each one attended to by a swarm of identical, mummified Vademon.
The one they seem to think of as their spokesmon turns to them, waving a hand at the holographic screens surrounding it. One shows Tokyo, with a wave of fog billowing out across it. The other shows a swamp in the north-west of Folder Continent, with four humans -- Daisuke, Miyako, Iori, and Ken, Gennai realises after a moment -- making their way through the water.
Out of the corner of his eye, Gennai sees two Vademon march past, with a camera-headed Digimon held between them.
“Who’s that?” He asks.
“We are saying it is Cameramon. We are declaring it is a prisoner. We are declaring that it isn’t your concern,” the spokesmon Vademon says. It gestures at the screens again. “Look.”
Gennai turns his gaze to the screens. “You’ve been busy.”
“We have sent servants to pursue Luminamon. We are declaring that she is an important component in the perfect Digimon,” Vademon says. “We are informing you that we have sent other servants to meet Daisuke Motomiya and his team. We are informing you that Daisuke Motomiya will act as selection pressure.”
“It almost seems like you don’t need us,” Doumon says.
“We require Gennai to complete the trap for Meicoomon. He may begin work immediately,” Vademon says. “And we will have use of your forces, Doumon. We are informing you that we will need them for retrieval purposes, in due time.”
“And until then?”
“We are declaring that you may wait until then,” Vademon says. “Wait and see how we work.”
---
It’s a normal winter’s day when the fog rolls in, blanketing the eastern side of Tokyo first before spreading out over the entire city and eventually tumbling over the bay. It forms so fast that Yamato can practically see the process, the mist getting so thick that before long he can’t even see six inches past the window of the safehouse.
“Weather report didn’t say anything about fog,” Sora says.
“No,” Yamato replies. “It didn’t. What’s the status on Daisuke’s team?”
“Still in the Digital World, dealing with territory disputes. Out of contact range,” Sora replies.
Next to them, Hikari presses her fingers against the glass lightly, furrowing her brow.
“Distortion signal detected,” Koushiro announces. “Over in Shibuya. I’m only detecting a single Digimon coming through.”
“Eastern Tokyo, where the fog started,” Sora remarks. “I can get there fastest. Want me to check it out?”
“Take Takeru with you,” Yamato says. “And stay in communication.”
‘Staying in communication’ turns out to be easier said than done. As if to seal the fact that this fog isn’t natural, Sora and Takeru have barely flown a mile when their voices, coming from Koushiro’s computer speaker, start to distort and buzz with static; barely two miles away when they become unintelligible; only three miles away when they cut out entirely.
“It’s interfering with communications all over the city,” Koushiro confirms a few seconds later. “I’ll boost the signal through my digivice. We might be able to at least get text updates through their D-Terminals.”
It takes nearly ten minutes, but eventually Koushiro gives a short noise of acknowledgement, turning his laptop towards Yamato as a message arrives. Located Digimon. It ran away. Tracking now. Luminamon, Perfect-level Fairy Digimon.
“We’re still getting some lag even like this,” Koushiro grouses. “More to the point, though, the Analyser suggests that a Luminamon shouldn’t be able to create a fog like this. Its primary abilities are healing and empowering other Digimon, not weather control.”
“You’re sure only one Digimon came through?” Yamato asks.
“Only one that I detected,” Koushiro replies.
“I’m not sure,” Hikari says. She’s still standing at the window, her hand splayed over the glass. Yamato’s gaze flicks over to her. “I can sense other things out there, like -- echoes.”
“Tell Sora to be careful,” Yamato says to Koushiro. “There’s more to this somehow.”
---
When the sun starts to dip below the horizon, Yamato feels it as well, the sense of things moving through the fog, the familiar prickling on the back of his neck that says that there’s something unseen out there. A quick check confirms that Taichi feels it too, even if Koushiro, Mimi, and Jyou don’t.
When the last sliver of the sun fades, Koushiro’s computer gives a series of sharp beeps.
“More Digimon signals appearing,” Koushiro says sharply. “Two, four, twelve, twenty, forty …”
“Are they coming from distortions?” Taichi asks.
“No distortions. They’re just -- appearing,” Koushiro replies. His fingers fly across the keyboard, bringing up blurry, distorted holographic images, of skeletal creatures, rotting zombies and masses of flesh, and ghosts that resemble nothing so much as Bakemon wearing witch hats. “SkullBaluchimon, Scorpiomon, Velgrmon, Entmon, MadLeomon, RareRaremon, and dozens of Soulmon. Velgrmon and a contingent of Soulmon have already engaged Sora and Takeru.”
Yamato frowns. “I’ll take SkullBaluchimon, then. Taichi, deal with Scorpiomon; Mimi, go after MadLeomon; Koushiro, Jyou, head to the bay and deal with RareRaremon; Hikari, you’re taking on Entmon. Move out, everyone.”
---
SkullBaluchimon is certainly in the running for one of the larger Digimon Yamato’s seen. He finds the skeletal Digimon looming over Akihabara, with nearly twenty Soulmon clustered around him, eyes flashing as it rakes beams of energy across the tops of buildings.
He gets its attention with a volley of blue fire from Garurumon, whistling a hair’s breadth past one bony cheek, then turns tail and runs, luring it towards Chiyoda Kuritsu Izumi Park, the only expanse of empty space nearby that’s even remotely large enough to accommodate the huge Digimon.
“SkullBaluchimon,” his Analyser says as they run. “Perfect-Level Data-Attribute Undead Digimon. Soulmon, Adult-Level Virus-Attribute Ghost Digimon.”
They crash into the park, barely avoiding one of SkullBaluchimon’s claws, and Yamato pushes off Garurumon’s back, digivice in hand. With a hum of energy, the full moon appears directly above them, lighting up the fog in shades of cyan and silver.
“Garurumon, super evolution. WereGarurumon.”
WereGarurumon sweeps a claw down, releasing a blast of red light that curves up towards SkullBaluchimon. At the moment of impact, though, it just passes through, bones rippling like water as the light emerges from the other side, leaving the Digimon unfazed and unharmed.
He can hear crackling voices over his earpiece, the broken, distorted sounds of the others, fragments of words coming through.
“Can’t … attacks … not there …”
“Like … ghost …”
“Nothing’s working … can’t hit …”
SkullBaluchimon’s claw crashes down, narrowly missing WereGarurumon, carving trenches into the earth.
“What do we do?” WereGarurumon asks, turning his head.
“We can’t let the battle spill out into the city,” Yamato says, frowning. “So we keep them here. For as long as it takes.”
---
It takes until sunrise.
As the sun rises, golden light filtering through the thick fog, SkullBaluchimon and the Soulmon fade away, vanishing back into the mists. Yamato and WereGarurumon are battered, exhausted -- and not once, as far as Yamato recalls, were they able to land a single blow. Everything just passed through it.
“Let’s recap,” Taichi says, when they’re back at the safehouse. “A bunch of Digimon, all various kinds of Undead-types -- skeletons, zombies, ghosts -- and we can’t touch any of them. They can’t seem to operate during the day, but at night they can cause havoc and all we can do is distract them.”
“You don’t think they’re actually ghosts, do you?” Mimi asks. Yamato tenses up on instinct.
“I -- don’t think so,” Sora says, with a slightly strained smile. “Koushiro?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Koushiro replies, without looking up from his laptop. “It’s clear that they’re tied to this fog somehow. It might be that they’re really one Digimon, the fog itself, which just captures or generates other Digimon to use as physical agents. Or maybe they’re only fragmentary data, and they can only physically manifest using the fog as a medium.”
“There’s also Luminamon to think about,” Sora says. “We don’t know what she’s here for or how she’s involved. I don’t get the impression that she’s in league with all these undead Digimon, but that means they might be hunting her.”
“We’ve no leads on where she is, either,” Yamato notes. “And that’s -- …”
He’s cut off by a sharp knock on the door. Tired and paranoid, his hand is inside his jacket in a second, closing around the handle of a knife, as Taichi pads over to the door and opens it.
Stood awkwardly in the doorway is Meiko, holding something bundled up in a coat. Yamato slowly lets go of the knife.
“Um,” Meiko says, ducking her head. The bundle in her arms moves, and a white and pink furred head pops up out of it. “I found -- this is Luminamon. She’s here to help.”
There. A distortion, opening just ahead. Luminamon rebounds off a rock and dives into it, shutting her eyes as it flings her through a field of red and black and spits her out on the other side.
The Vademon make their home in the interior of a Cometmon, a strange space full of bizarre angles and geometry that makes no sense to Gennai’s eye. He stays close to the guide, keeping one eye on them and one on Doumon trailing behind him, until they eventually reach the main room.
He can see the ring of tanks, three occupied by the still-screaming shapes of MarinChimairamon, Revivemon, and Mephistomon, each one attended to by a swarm of identical, mummified Vademon.
The one they seem to think of as their spokesmon turns to them, waving a hand at the holographic screens surrounding it. One shows Tokyo, with a wave of fog billowing out across it. The other shows a swamp in the north-west of Folder Continent, with four humans -- Daisuke, Miyako, Iori, and Ken, Gennai realises after a moment -- making their way through the water.
Out of the corner of his eye, Gennai sees two Vademon march past, with a camera-headed Digimon held between them.
“Who’s that?” He asks.
“We are saying it is Cameramon. We are declaring it is a prisoner. We are declaring that it isn’t your concern,” the spokesmon Vademon says. It gestures at the screens again. “Look.”
Gennai turns his gaze to the screens. “You’ve been busy.”
“We have sent servants to pursue Luminamon. We are declaring that she is an important component in the perfect Digimon,” Vademon says. “We are informing you that we have sent other servants to meet Daisuke Motomiya and his team. We are informing you that Daisuke Motomiya will act as selection pressure.”
“It almost seems like you don’t need us,” Doumon says.
“We require Gennai to complete the trap for Meicoomon. He may begin work immediately,” Vademon says. “And we will have use of your forces, Doumon. We are informing you that we will need them for retrieval purposes, in due time.”
“And until then?”
“We are declaring that you may wait until then,” Vademon says. “Wait and see how we work.”
It’s a normal winter’s day when the fog rolls in, blanketing the eastern side of Tokyo first before spreading out over the entire city and eventually tumbling over the bay. It forms so fast that Yamato can practically see the process, the mist getting so thick that before long he can’t even see six inches past the window of the safehouse.
“Weather report didn’t say anything about fog,” Sora says.
“No,” Yamato replies. “It didn’t. What’s the status on Daisuke’s team?”
“Still in the Digital World, dealing with territory disputes. Out of contact range,” Sora replies.
Next to them, Hikari presses her fingers against the glass lightly, furrowing her brow.
“Distortion signal detected,” Koushiro announces. “Over in Shibuya. I’m only detecting a single Digimon coming through.”
“Eastern Tokyo, where the fog started,” Sora remarks. “I can get there fastest. Want me to check it out?”
“Take Takeru with you,” Yamato says. “And stay in communication.”
‘Staying in communication’ turns out to be easier said than done. As if to seal the fact that this fog isn’t natural, Sora and Takeru have barely flown a mile when their voices, coming from Koushiro’s computer speaker, start to distort and buzz with static; barely two miles away when they become unintelligible; only three miles away when they cut out entirely.
“It’s interfering with communications all over the city,” Koushiro confirms a few seconds later. “I’ll boost the signal through my digivice. We might be able to at least get text updates through their D-Terminals.”
It takes nearly ten minutes, but eventually Koushiro gives a short noise of acknowledgement, turning his laptop towards Yamato as a message arrives. Located Digimon. It ran away. Tracking now. Luminamon, Perfect-level Fairy Digimon.
“We’re still getting some lag even like this,” Koushiro grouses. “More to the point, though, the Analyser suggests that a Luminamon shouldn’t be able to create a fog like this. Its primary abilities are healing and empowering other Digimon, not weather control.”
“You’re sure only one Digimon came through?” Yamato asks.
“Only one that I detected,” Koushiro replies.
“I’m not sure,” Hikari says. She’s still standing at the window, her hand splayed over the glass. Yamato’s gaze flicks over to her. “I can sense other things out there, like -- echoes.”
“Tell Sora to be careful,” Yamato says to Koushiro. “There’s more to this somehow.”
When the sun starts to dip below the horizon, Yamato feels it as well, the sense of things moving through the fog, the familiar prickling on the back of his neck that says that there’s something unseen out there. A quick check confirms that Taichi feels it too, even if Koushiro, Mimi, and Jyou don’t.
When the last sliver of the sun fades, Koushiro’s computer gives a series of sharp beeps.
“More Digimon signals appearing,” Koushiro says sharply. “Two, four, twelve, twenty, forty …”
“Are they coming from distortions?” Taichi asks.
“No distortions. They’re just -- appearing,” Koushiro replies. His fingers fly across the keyboard, bringing up blurry, distorted holographic images, of skeletal creatures, rotting zombies and masses of flesh, and ghosts that resemble nothing so much as Bakemon wearing witch hats. “SkullBaluchimon, Scorpiomon, Velgrmon, Entmon, MadLeomon, RareRaremon, and dozens of Soulmon. Velgrmon and a contingent of Soulmon have already engaged Sora and Takeru.”
Yamato frowns. “I’ll take SkullBaluchimon, then. Taichi, deal with Scorpiomon; Mimi, go after MadLeomon; Koushiro, Jyou, head to the bay and deal with RareRaremon; Hikari, you’re taking on Entmon. Move out, everyone.”
SkullBaluchimon is certainly in the running for one of the larger Digimon Yamato’s seen. He finds the skeletal Digimon looming over Akihabara, with nearly twenty Soulmon clustered around him, eyes flashing as it rakes beams of energy across the tops of buildings.
He gets its attention with a volley of blue fire from Garurumon, whistling a hair’s breadth past one bony cheek, then turns tail and runs, luring it towards Chiyoda Kuritsu Izumi Park, the only expanse of empty space nearby that’s even remotely large enough to accommodate the huge Digimon.
“SkullBaluchimon,” his Analyser says as they run. “Perfect-Level Data-Attribute Undead Digimon. Soulmon, Adult-Level Virus-Attribute Ghost Digimon.”
They crash into the park, barely avoiding one of SkullBaluchimon’s claws, and Yamato pushes off Garurumon’s back, digivice in hand. With a hum of energy, the full moon appears directly above them, lighting up the fog in shades of cyan and silver.
“Garurumon, super evolution. WereGarurumon.”
WereGarurumon sweeps a claw down, releasing a blast of red light that curves up towards SkullBaluchimon. At the moment of impact, though, it just passes through, bones rippling like water as the light emerges from the other side, leaving the Digimon unfazed and unharmed.
He can hear crackling voices over his earpiece, the broken, distorted sounds of the others, fragments of words coming through.
“Can’t … attacks … not there …”
“Like … ghost …”
“Nothing’s working … can’t hit …”
SkullBaluchimon’s claw crashes down, narrowly missing WereGarurumon, carving trenches into the earth.
“What do we do?” WereGarurumon asks, turning his head.
“We can’t let the battle spill out into the city,” Yamato says, frowning. “So we keep them here. For as long as it takes.”
It takes until sunrise.
As the sun rises, golden light filtering through the thick fog, SkullBaluchimon and the Soulmon fade away, vanishing back into the mists. Yamato and WereGarurumon are battered, exhausted -- and not once, as far as Yamato recalls, were they able to land a single blow. Everything just passed through it.
“Let’s recap,” Taichi says, when they’re back at the safehouse. “A bunch of Digimon, all various kinds of Undead-types -- skeletons, zombies, ghosts -- and we can’t touch any of them. They can’t seem to operate during the day, but at night they can cause havoc and all we can do is distract them.”
“You don’t think they’re actually ghosts, do you?” Mimi asks. Yamato tenses up on instinct.
“I -- don’t think so,” Sora says, with a slightly strained smile. “Koushiro?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Koushiro replies, without looking up from his laptop. “It’s clear that they’re tied to this fog somehow. It might be that they’re really one Digimon, the fog itself, which just captures or generates other Digimon to use as physical agents. Or maybe they’re only fragmentary data, and they can only physically manifest using the fog as a medium.”
“There’s also Luminamon to think about,” Sora says. “We don’t know what she’s here for or how she’s involved. I don’t get the impression that she’s in league with all these undead Digimon, but that means they might be hunting her.”
“We’ve no leads on where she is, either,” Yamato notes. “And that’s -- …”
He’s cut off by a sharp knock on the door. Tired and paranoid, his hand is inside his jacket in a second, closing around the handle of a knife, as Taichi pads over to the door and opens it.
Stood awkwardly in the doorway is Meiko, holding something bundled up in a coat. Yamato slowly lets go of the knife.
“Um,” Meiko says, ducking her head. The bundle in her arms moves, and a white and pink furred head pops up out of it. “I found -- this is Luminamon. She’s here to help.”