"Deal. He got turned into a doll once, but nobody got any pictures," Jyou says, glancing at one side of the Bay, then the other. "Teeny tiny Yama is the next best thing. Also, hold on."

There's about a second's gap after he says that before a few mechanical looking, car-sized mantarays erupt out of the water, about fifty meters away. There's a flash of fire from Ikkakumon's forehead as he fires off torpedoes from his horn, the missiles curving around to hit each Mantaraymon.


At the broadcast centre, the man considers for a moment, then clicks his tongue irritably.

"I swear every time someone invades, they make a beeline for this place, hoping they can hijack the equipment and make the Gate wider," he says. "Fine. There's still a couple of dozen people inside, how quick can you get them to a shelter?"