Archive of Our Own ^beta

"We are two souls born from the same star. That's how I recognized you. You looked like home." - A. J. Lawless

Chapter one: Mecha Moron

   A paper airplane soars over the classroom. Pencils scratch against paper and Mr. Bellevue taps his stick of chalk against the board. Someone yawns. The nose of the paper airplane lands in the mouth of the Volcano from last years science fair. 

   “Nice,” Kenta says.

   Kazu grins. They give each other a high five.

   “Now, can anyone tell me the name of the first recorded nuclear accident?” Mr. Bellevue turns to face the class. “There are two possible answers. I will accept either.”

   A few students raise their hands.

   “That’s easy,” Kazu reclines back in his seat. “It was that Chernobyl place in Russia.”

   Holly imitates an incorrect game show buzzer. Refusing to look up from her Gameboy she has hidden under her desk, she says, “It was that one with the steam explosion, at the Idaho National Laboratory. Might have killed like, three people I think?”

   “You’re both wrong.”

   Holly looks up and frowns. 

   Mr. Bellevue gestures at her with his stick of chalk. “And put that away or I’m taking it until the end of the year.”

   Holly slides her Gameboy into her messenger bag. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Kazu sticking his tongue out at her. She wrinkles her nose at him.

   “How about someone who knows how to raise their hand. Henry?”

   “The first major nuclear accidents were the Kyshtym disaster in the Soviet Union, along with the Windscale fire in the United Kingdom,” Henry checks his text book. “And both happened in 1957.”

   “That’s right on the money, Henry. Very good.”

   The school alarm belches through the classroom, signaling the end of the day. Mr. Bellevue scrambles to get in his last few sentences while everyone packs up.

   “And remember! You all have until next Wednesday to turn in your project on what you think came before the big bang! Extra credit will be given to those with creativity!” Mr. Bellevue begins muttering to himself. “Within reason, of course. If I have to deal with another quantum fluctuations report stating that our universe budded from another made from swiss cheese, I’m going to lose what little hair I have left.”

   He sighs upon noticing that all of his students have left the classroom. 

   “Kids these days.”

   Three clicks to the right later, and Holly pops the lock off of her bright red locker. Whereupon a handful of screws, nuts and bolts spill out and plink to the floor. Holly grumbles to herself. She bends over to pick them all up, a grimace taking her face when she sees two pairs of shoes.

   “Yo! Mecha Moron. Looks like you really do have a few screws loose,” Kazu elbows Kenta and they both chuckle. 

   “For the last time, it’s Mecha Maniac. And what do you rock biters want, anyways?”

   “Pssshhh. Nothing much. Just, you know. To kick your ass in a game of Digibattle.”

   Holly’s eyes twinkle. She tucks one of the screws behind her ear, reaches into her locker, and pulls out a wooden card deck with a turbine etched onto the top. “Library, Cafeteria, or the Band room?”

   Kazu grins. “Loser picks.”

   Silence.

   Holly and Kazu look at Kenta.

   Kenta heaves a sigh. “Library, I guess.”

   They arrived in the Library ten minutes later, seated at the last table near the restrooms and campus exit.

   Sunlight winks off of one of the holographic cards Holly’s drawn. Tongue poking out between her lips, she gives Kazu a dance of her eyebrows.

   He smirks. “Your poker face is grade A trash.”

   “I aim to please,” Holly starts laying down cards. Pagumon, Gizamon, then Datamon. Kazu lifts a brow. Holly flashes two digivolution cards at him.

   “Starting off with an Ultimate already?” Kazu taps Holly’s Datamon with one of the cards from his hand. “Tasty.”

   Revealing a data corruption card, Kazu nudges Holly’s Datamon towards her depleted pile. 

   Kazu tosses his cards onto the table as if he were a blackjack dealer. “I’ll put out a Meramon, equip him with this gatling buster, then add on a speed boost just because I can. Your move.”

   Holly draws a card and smiles. She shows Kazu a Starmon and a Ballistamon. 

   Kazu scoffs. “Are you being serious right now?”

   Holly discards Starmon and Ballistamon. She lays down her holographic Andromon and pretends to shoot Kazu’s Meramon with a pair of finger guns. “Adios! See ya later! And tell the kids back home I said to go chew on rocks.”

   Kenta leans into Kazu and whispers, “Can she really do that?”

   “Yeah. Yeah, she can. So long as they’re in the same family,” Kazu flicks his Meramon into his depleted pile. “That right there? That’s why I can’t stand Metal decks. They’re bull to the capital crap.”

   Holly shrugs. “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

   Drawing his next card, Kazu bursts out laughing. “Scratch that! I love Metal decks!”

   Kazu slaps Holly’s Andromon with another data corruption card. “Take that, Mecha Brainiac. Get that hunk of junk outta here!”

   “Awww!” Holly whines. “That’s so not fair! How many of those do you even have in your deck?!”

   “Dude, I’ve got like seven of them. Ever since you beat Rika, I haven’t had a deck with less than four. This means your hand is empty though, right?”

   Holly crosses her arms and looks away.

   “Kenta, trumpets.”

   Kenta pretends to play a trumpet. Quietly. Because they’re in the library. 

   Kazu lays what remains of his hand onto the table. Greymon, who he digivolves to Metal Greymon, equipped with a damage booster. As a means of furthering his damage and ending the game (thanks to Holly not having any cards in her hand), Kazu buffs Metal Greymon with Blessing of the Dinosaurs.

   “Wam, bam, thank you ma'am! That’s game.”

   Kenta leans his head back and plays the last note on his finger trumpet. “Yeah, nothing can Tricera-top that!”

   Kazu looks at Kenta. He nods his head slowly. “Nice.”

   They give each other a high five. 

   Holly shuffles her deck, stuffs it into it’s wooden box, and then into her messenger bag. She slings her bag over her shoulder and trudges away towards the exit. 

   “Yo! Where are you going? Don’t you want to play another game?”

   “Not with someone who built a deck meant to take mine out,” Holly looks over her shoulder at Kazu. “I wouldn’t have lost if not for those crappy corruption cards. They're total BS as it is."

   “Wanna bet? Ten bucks says I can take them out, and still kick your ass to Timbuktu.”

   Holly holds her middle finger up high as she leaves the library.

   Kazu puts his hands behind his head. “Nobody likes a sore loser. I’ll be waiting for a rematch, Mecha Moron!”

   It’s dusk by the time Holly gets home, rounding the corner to her street. The lights on the front porch are on. There are flecks of dust drifting in the pale yellow light.

   Holly pushes the front door open, and her Mom is already there with a screwdriver pointed at her chest. “Child! Where have you been?! I’ve been worried sick about you. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

   “I’m sorry, Ma. I missed the bus. And my phone sorta kinda maybe died. But!” Holly grins, digs a hand into her messenger bag, and pulls out an almond joy. “I got your favorite.”

   Her Mom grunts, takes the almond joy, and shoves it into her back pocket. 

   “Little shit. I could have used your help earlier.”

   “Let me take a wild guess. It’s that old man's car radio again, yeah?”

   “I don’t know what Rodney keeps doing to that damn thing, but whatever it is, it ain’t working.”

   Holly sighs. “I’ll take a look at it after I get done with my homework. I’m sure I can get it back up to speed.”

   “That’s my girl,” Holly’s Mom twirls the screwdriver to where the handle is facing Holly. After Holly takes it and slides it into her bag, her Mom says, “There’s leftover pizza in the fridge. Oh, and I drank your last vanilla coke.”

   Holly frowns. 

   Her Mom coughs up a laugh. “Should have caught that bus on time.”

   Text book propped up in her lap, Holly chews on the handle of her screwdriver while looking up at the stars. There are crickets chirping, somewhere. And the grass is damp. Cold. It’s been seeping through her jeans for awhile now. But it’s a welcome chill. The kind that reminds Holly of when she’d help her Grandpa work under the hood of old cars during the winter months. Back when oil stains on her clothes were a fashion statement, and back when calluses were marks of pride. 

   A faint smile sweeps over Holly’s face. Her nose would always run back then. Grandpa would wipe it with the corner of his shop towel, and they’d both laugh at the scuffs of black streaking down her face because of it. 

   Holly sniffles. She wipes her nose with the back of her hand, and cleans out the tears starting to gather in her eyes. Grandpa passed away six years ago, and she still misses him with all of her heart. 

   He was an incredible mechanic. A collector of nuts, bolts, screws, gadgets, and gizmos galore. And her hero. 

   Holly sets her screwdriver down onto her text book. It rolls into the center where the binding creases between the pages. She then wiggles the screw from behind her ear out, and looks at it in her palm before giving it a squeeze. 

   Grandpa liked to carry a pocket full of screws, nuts, and bolts because you never know when somethin’ is gonna need a bit of maintenance. 

   Holly smiles wistfully. That was Grandpa’s catchphrase. A bit of maintenance. 

   Grandpa would wink and tell her Mom that he and Holly needed to go and take care of a bit of maintenance. That was his code for ice cream. Or how he carried all those nuts and bolts in those deep, overall pockets of his. Said he liked to play with them when his thoughts would get bad, and that he could picture them performing a bit of maintenance in his head to make things better. 

   Releasing a solemn sigh, Holly tucks the screw back into her hair and behind her ear. She sticks the handle of her screwdriver back into her mouth, gnaws on it, and reads her textbook for the next hour or so. 

   She really likes the idea of going the quantum fluctuation route for her physics project. But coming up with where a universe could potentially sprout from and why creatively is the tricky part. And she needs that extra credit ever since she bombed her last test. If she doesn’t pass this AP class, she’s never going to get into MIT. 

   Holly’s screwdriver clacks against her teeth as she rolls it around her mouth. 

   Fractals, or repeating patterns could come into play somewhere. Following that train of logic, maybe she could play with Kepler's research and how it came to show how molecules stack together to form hexagonal crystals, and how snowflakes always have six corners.  

   But what if they had five? What is that called again?

   Holly flips through her text book until she finds the word: Quasicrystals.

   A groan rumbles from Holly’s throat. While she loves physics, cosmology, and all that good star stuff? She loathes geometry. The building blocks of the universe can kick rocks.

   Holly leans her head back and gazes up at the stars. 

   It’s a weak theory. The one on the potential of a five cornered snowflake. And it’s probably been disproved. But mistakes in the universe are made all the time! And sometimes, mistakes lead to discoveries. Actually, more often than not. Like the slinky! 

    The guy who came up with the slinky was actually trying to develop the necessary spring like coils meant to keep precious cargo stable on ships. At which point he knocked one off his drafting table, then gawked at it like a kid on Christmas morning as it did it’s well renowned slinky walk instead of just smacking the floor. 

   A spring, a spring, a marvelous thing!

   Holly hums to herself. She starts drawing imaginary lines between the stars, connecting them into shapes and abstract patterns. As a means of studying and remembering her vocabulary for her physics class, she tries to make some platonic solids.

   The cube. The tetrahedron. The octahedron, and when she tries to make anything bigger she just ends up frustrating herself. 

   ...But what if that’s how the universe operates? Maybe it’s just trying to find the right pattern as it expands? Like hands moving puzzle pieces on a hardwood floor, always sliding the shapes in and out of spaces until the pattern can repeat itself. 
   
   What was that one called, again?

   Penrose?

   In any case, what happens when the pattern has been repeating for so long, and then it suddenly… doesn’t?

   What could cause that? 

   What could make a five pointed snowflake?

   An accident? 

   No, that’s cheap. Mr. Bellevue would never buy that.

   Holly looks down at her text book. Beads of condensation have begun to collect on the page, bubbling the words. 

   Maybe not an accident. But a mutation. Like when cats are born with extra toes, or when snakes have two heads. It’s the universe...mutating? Is it mutating when it stops repeating a pattern it’s always produced?

   But why?

   Why would something that’s been shown to repeat the same process suddenly… not? Like those hands sliding puzzle pieces across the floor, why would they start fumbling about?

   Holly’s brows furrow.

   Is it because they’re getting old?

   ...Is it because the universe is getting older?

   Holly’s eyes widen.

   Jackpot!

   She sits up straighter, a surge of giddy energy rushing through her blood. 

   That’s gotta be it! 

   As the universe ages, the pattern is bound to hiccup every now and again. But that’s when the universe takes a second to─

   Holly stills.

   “It performs a bit of maintenance,” She whispers. 

   And it’s in that mistake in the pattern, before it’s corrected, that stems a new universe. Holly imagines buds on a twig, each blooming like silk twirled in water and pinched to fold a rose. 

   Holly closes her text book and falls back into the grass. She holds it against her chest and watches as clouds pass in wisps across the moon. No longer interested in the handle on her screwdriver, she pulls it out of her mouth and stabs the point into the ground for safekeeping. 

   A lengthy sigh passes her lips.

   Now she just has to write the thing. And connect all the dots.

   Holly closes her eyes. Wow. That was a ton of brain energy. She’s just gonna rest for a bit and─

    Thunk!

   A crumpled soda can clips Holly on the forehead, and she startles with an eek! 

   “Hah! Right on the noggin’!”

   Rubbing her forehead, Holly sits up. She frowns at Impmon, a fiendish Digimon who stands about three feet tall on a good day. He has purple skin, a pair of horns that remind Holly of a jesters hat, a white face, mischievous green eyes, a smiley face with sharpened teeth tattooed onto his belly, and is dressed with red gloves and a bandanna around his neck.  

   “Ya get the goods, toots? Cause if not, I’ve gotta badaboom with your name written all over it!”

   Seated on the lip of her roof with one leg crossed over the other, Impmon smirks at Holly. 

   Holly pats her messenger bag. “I dunno. Guess you’re just gonna have to come down here and see for yourself.”

   “Ya better not be toyin’ with me. Cause I ain’t in the mood for it today. No, I’m not!”

   Impmon hops down from the roof and marches over to her. 

   “Yeah, yeah,” Holly reaches into her bag, fishes around for an energy drink, and a bag of gummy bears. Impmon snatches them out of her hands as soon as she reveals them.

   Cracking the energy drink open, Impmon chugs it down before crushing it on his knee. Then he tears open the bag of gummy bears, grabs a handful, and crams them into his mouth. 

   While chewing, he shows Holly the empty can. “Mph, savin’ this for later.”

   Holly rolls her eyes. But then she takes note of the scratch marks on his cheek, the flakes of dried blood, along with how his bandanna is hanging lopsided on his neck.

   Her heart pinches with a pang of remorse.

   “You got yourself into a fight, didn’t you?”

   “Well. That’s none of your goddamn business, now is it?”

   Holly licks her thumb. Impmon scowls, but doesn’t pull away as she cleans the flecks of blood off of his cheek. Or when she sets his bandanna back right.

   “Was it Guilmon again? Y’know, you need to quit messin' with him like you do.”

   “Ya think Pineapple head did this? Hah! Fat chance. He couldn’t hit me if I was standing point blank in front of his face!”

   Impmon squishes a green gummy bear before popping it into his mouth. “One of yous humans tried to get scrappy with me while I was takin’ a nap. Yous all just think the whole wide world belongs to yous. Well, I’m here to tell ya it don’t!”

   “You were totally in their house, weren’t you?”

   “So what? It’s not like I was up to no good.”

   “Don’t even with me. You’re always up to no good.”

   Impmon barks a laugh. “Maybe you’re not as stupid as I had originally thought.”

   Holly scoots her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. She watches Impmon finish off the gummy bears, wad up the bag, and toss it over his shoulder. 

   “What? Ya want a thank you?”

   Holly blinks at Impmon. The hint of a smirk tugs at her lips. 

   “Yeah, well, tough luck. That there was payment so I don’t light that crap ya call hair atop your head on fire.”

   “Then consider this an advance,” Holly digs into her pants pocket and flings a bag of peanut M&M’s at Impmon. 

   Impmon fumbles with catching the peanut M&M’s before padding them down into his bandana. He looks at Holly with an air of suspicion, and chooses not to say anything. Instead, he huffs out a grunt and shuffles closer to her. 

   He nudges her textbook with one of his toes. “Whatcha been workin’ on? Seems boring to me.”

   “Oh? Wait till you get a load of this. It’s totally rad! You see, I’ve got this paper I’ve gotta write that has to deal with my own personal theory on what happened before the Big Bang.”

   “The Big Bang, huh? Sounds like a Digimon move to me.”

   “Huh. Well, yeah, actually,” Holly looks up in thought and smiles. “It kinda does, now that you mention it. But, in human terms? The Big Bang is what, well, gave birth to the universe. The working theory is that everything started out as a singular point. Like, everything you see and everything that exists was once jam packed together. Think of it like a can of sardines with too many sardines. It was bound to burst eventually, yeah? Well, when it burst, there was this explosion of unimaginable force that scattered everything all about.”

   Impmon looks between Holly and her text book. “So, you’re tellin’ me the universe was once a can of sardines that went kapooie?”

   “Not exactly. But, kinda. Just replace the sardines with matter and you’ve got the jist of it.”

   “Yous humans really are somethin’ else, aren’t ya.”

   “Somethin’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. But hey, do you wanna hear about what I’m gonna write for this project? It’s actually super interesting, and has to deal with—"

   “Eh?” Impmon looks at Holly like she farted and he just caught wind of it. “Are ya kiddin’ me? H to the E to the double hockey sticks no! All that nerd talk makes my head hurt. Yous can keep matter, the big boom or whatever, and sardines to yourself. I’m gettin’ outta here.”

   Impmon hops onto the fence, leaps into a tree, then bounces onto a wire connecting a pair of the city's transmission towers. He walks across the wire like it’s a tightrope with his hands behind his head. “Why don’t ya tell that project to am-scray and come hang with me instead?  Let me teach ya a thing or two on how to rule these streets. Heh! I could use a sidekick, after all. Whaddya say? Once in a lifetime opportunity here, doll face. You’re awful lucky I’m feeling generous!”

   Holly grimaces. “Look. It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just— I’ve still gotta write this paper, and then I have this radio I told my Mom I’d try to get up and running again. I don’t think I can.”

   “Fine! It’s not like I wanted to be caught with the likes of yous to begin with! I was just tryin’ out bein’ nice for a change!” Impmon stomps his foot. The wire wobbles. He flails his arms until he regains his balance. “Tch. All yous humans are the same. All of ya are just a buncha good for nothin’, low life livin’, sack of worms! Badaboom!”

   Impmon lobs a fireball from the tip of his finger towards Holly. She tucks her head into the safety of her arms. The fire ball misses her and attaches itself to the screwdriver she jabbed into the ground. The flames tickle the handle, melting it around the edges before flickering out. 

   When Holly peeks up from her arms, Impmon’s gone. 

   Her bottom lip trembles. 

   The sliding glass door on the porch creaks open. Her Mom sticks her head out and hollers, “Lug nut? You doing alright out there?”

  “Y-Yeah,” Holly squeaks. She clears her throat and calls back, “Yeah! Yeah, I’m alright, Ma. I’ll be there in a sec.”

   Bobbing her head to the 80’s classic rock music thumping from her headphones, Holly works on the radio as promised under her desk light. Off and to the side sit the guts. Red and yellow wires, a plastic dipping cup she washed out to hold the screws, a chunky circuit board, and the amplifier. Examining the face plate, she can tell the capacitor must have popped. There are scorch marks tinting some of the buttons like smeared charcoal. Must be why when she plugged the thing in it sounded like an opera singer trying to imitate static. 

   Holly hunts around for the tuning coil. When she finds it, she winces. 

   She holds it under her desk light with a pair of tweezers.

   Kinda looks like a burnt piece of thick hair. 

   She sighs. Okay. Gonna need to take a trip down to the garage for a few parts. Looks like this thing needs a capacitor (which she hopes she can pull intact from a separate car stereo), a tuning coil, something to clean the face plate off with, and a wire harness. 

   Deciding to bring her messenger bag in case she can’t carry everything, Holly slings it over her shoulder. She grabs her phone off the charger and stuffs it into her back pocket. It’ll help in case she needs to use it as a flashlight. Lastly, she slides her headphones around her neck and clicks her music off for now. 

   After snagging herself a piece of pizza, Holly heads into the garage. She scarfs it down, tosses the crust into the garbage can by the door, and pulls the cord for the light to flip on before heading deeper inside. 

   To say it’s a mess in here is an understatement. It looks like a jungle gym of wires, old car batteries, parts, and other electronics all thrown up onto shelves sectioned into four isles. It always reminded her of a flea market, their garage. Or one of those discount stores in the bad part of town. 

   Holly steps over a propane tank and heads down one of the isles. She pops a squat and looks on the bottom shelf. Scooching over a VCR in search of a plastic shopping bag, she smiles when she stumbles upon a pair of working gloves she had lost some time ago. They’re a leathery brown, with worn fabric and frayed Velcro on the wrists. She slides them on and warmth floods through her veins. 

   Holly flexes her fingers, and the gloves bray as they crinkle. 

   They’re still broken in. And just as comfy as she remembers them.

   Now, where’s that shopping bag?

   Holly pushes herself up to her feet and grunts. Finding this thing is gonna be like farming for glimmer crystals in Galaga: Unleashed. She just knows it. While heading down the other isles, Holly’s unable to find an intact tuning coil, but she does find a package of clean shop rags to wipe down that face plate with. She scooches her Gameboy, loose hard candies, screw driver, nuts, bolts, and her card deck to the side in her bag to make some room for the stuff.

   ...Maybe she should clean her messenger bag. Maybe later. Maybe never. 

   Holly heaves a sigh after scouring down the isles a second time. No luck. She’s gonna need to head into the dreaded maintenance closet and search for the rest in there. For better or for worse, she still needs to find that tuning coil, and an old car stereo she can pull a capacitor from and hope it fits. Parts like that are special orders. They take forever to come in. 

   The door knob jiggles as Holly turns it and pushes the door forward. Although she knows the light doesn’t work, she tries to flip the switch anyways. Then she digs out her cell phone and uses the glow it casts like a flashlight. She steps inside.

   It’s a bit claustrophobic. And not much bigger than an outhouse. She can’t stand in here without something touching her shoulders. The shelves are crammed with electronic parts, and wires spilling over the lips of cardboard boxes. 

   Holly squeezes around the door as she closes it so she can see the right hand side of the closet. Holding her phone up, she scans the light over what lays before her. An old radiator (that’s still dripping), too many computer modems to count, some speakers, more wires, and—

   Jackpot!

   Holly tugs the plastic shopping bag full of wire connectors and harnesses from the back of the shelf. Pleased with her findings, she drops what she needs into her bag. And a bit extra, just in case. Because sometimes small isn’t really small, and you need a medium. 

   Now all she needs is that spare car radio.

   Holly peers into the back of the closet. It looks like if she can step over the window unit and shimmy her way between the shelf and those cardboard boxes stacked to the ceiling, she can get deeper inside. 

   Holly takes a large step over the window unit. A wet splorch squishes out from beneath her shoe.

   "Ew!"

   She just stepped on an old shop rag saturated in antifreeze, probably draining from that window unit. While trying as gracefully as possible (and not succeeding) to haul her other leg up and over the stupid thing, her foot slides on that rag of antifreeze. Her cell phone clatters to the floor. She nearly does the splits, crotch ready to smack into the window unit, but she’s able to catch herself on the shelf. 

   Holly releases a hard breath. That was a close one─

   The cardboard tower of boxes shifts. Holly frowns and watches them, almost as if they were in slow motion, come crashing down.

   “Oh, man.”

   Holly hits the floor with a thud, the back of her head knocking against the corner of the window unit. She seethes. The pain is sharp, persistent, and throbbing. Her vision tunnels, like she’s being pulled towards a single fine point. She tries to shake it off. That’s when the last box smashes into her, and everything goes dark.

   “Okay, okay! But you have to promise not to say anything,” Takato was patting the air down with his hands. “And don’t be scared. It’ll hurt his feelings.”

   “I swear to god, Taco, if you’re lyin' to me—"

   “I wouldn’t lie about something like this.”

   Takato gestured for Holly to follow him up the stairs, and towards the concrete shed shaded by trees in the park. When they made it to the top, the rusted gate at the entrance creaked as he pushed it forward.

   Holly peeked over Takato’s shoulders. A pair of yellow eyes melted through the dark, and she let out a gasp. 

   Takato glanced back at Holly. “It’s okay. He’s actually really nice!”

   “Takato-mon? Did you bring a new friend? Does she have bread?”

   Guilmon, a Digimon better befitting a chubby velociraptor with the demeanor of a golden retriever, red skin, and a white belly tattooed with a biohazard symbol, plodded forward and sniffed the air. 

   “I-I!” Holly stuttered, her hands already sifting through her messenger bag. “No, but I’ve got some candy! Let’s see, I’ve got a pack of skittles, half a Hershey bar, some peanut M&M’s-”

   Guilmon nudged his snout into Holly’s messenger bag. “Are peanut M&M’s like peanut butter?”

   Holly stared at Guilmon, childlike wonder trapped in her eyes. As a result of her ogling, Guilmon took the opportunity to lift the flap on her messenger bag and dive his head inside. 

   Takato winced at Holly. “Sorry, he’s still learning his manners.”

   “It’s okay, really,” She dropped to her knees next to Guilmon. Her hand found his back, and she gently stroked him with the same reservation she'd use if she were petting a tiger. He was warm to the touch. And the rise and fall of his breathing against her palm made her heart flutter like magic.

   Holly looked at Takato and whined, “He’s so cool, Taco! Oh, my god, I want a Digimon so bad. Can I hug him?!”

   When she wakes up it’s as if BestBuy and RadioShack exploded all over her. There are wires everywhere. They’re black. Shiny and slippery. And dangling around her in loops, twists, and thick bundles.

    Holly groans. She tries to sit up, but the ground is unstable. Like a hammock with loose netting. In an attempt to push herself up again, Holly tests the floor with a few hand pats and her fingers slip through a series of tubes, wires, and cords. 

   A phantom chill sweeps through her soul. 

   She yelps when the wires below her loosen, and she begins sinking down into them. Fumbling for the wires above her, Holly grabs at them like jungle vines. Each one she touches bursts into digital code. She gawks at the shimmering ones and zeroes slipping through her fingers.

   Light paints her back and shines around her. There are fewer and fewer wires, and she’s falling faster. The light is growing brighter and brighter. Holly desperately fumbles to grab hold onto something, anything, squeezing her eyes shut when the light becomes so bright it hurts to keep them open.

    “Promise you’ll find me again.”

   Holly crashes through the ceiling of a nuclear power plant, the walls metallic and glittering with their polished shine. They stretch on as far as the eye can see. There’s something bubbling hotly in the distance, the sound echoing throughout the empty facility. 

  Holly clings to her messenger bag, the strap caught on a series of pipes jutting from where she burst through the ceiling. Her heart’s pounding. She tries to climb up her bag, and stops when the strap starts to slide off the pipes. 

   Something rattles above her. 

   Thunk!

   Holly’s cell phone wacks her on the head. It drops to the ground and the screen shatters, slivers of glass glittering like ice against the floor. 

   She stares down at her phone.

   What would happen if she fell?

   The pipes above creak.

   Her strap slides down once more, and Holly cries out, “Is anybody out there?! Somebody?! Anybody!? ”

   She’s greeted with the hollow echo of her voice reverberating back to her.

   And then the sound of marching footsteps. 

Chapter two: Some Assembly Required

   As if she were clinging to the uvula at the back of a monster's throat, Holly hangs onto her messenger bag. The footsteps are growing louder. Heavier. And clunkier. Whatever is coming sounds like it’s wearing cars for shoes. 

   Her stomach’s about to drop out of her. 

   Maaaybe she shouldn't have called for help. 

   Holly’s grip on her bag tightens. The pipes bearing the strap groan under her weight. Silhouette dressed by an overcoat with a wide collar, an android outfitted with black steel boots, a military officer's cap, and a jet engine for a chest emerges from one of the hallways. Tubes bubbling with lava flank his head. They’re looped from the back of his skull and are connected to ports in his upper back. 

   Sitting on each shoulder rest domed pauldrons emblazoned with high temperature warning signs, yellow triangles bordered in black. There’s a thermometer at the center of each one. Beneath the label reads: Extreme Heat. Much like caution tape, black and yellow stripe their edges as well.

   His forearms, rounded square segments connecting his elbows to his wrists, are too large for his overcoat. Therefore it’s draped over him like how Holly imagines a superhero would wear their cape. Returning to his arms she takes note that they’re compartments, each one seemingly capable of unfolding and revealing a series of guns, lasers, and other deadly weapons. 

   By way of contrast to the potential threat to her life he proposes, and purposefully ignoring the caution signs laser carved into his shoulder pauldrons, his face doesn’t intimidate her.

   Rather than eyes, he has a glowing blue visor that stretches from ear to ear. There’s text at the center of the visor that reads: Online. Darksteel trims his jawline and tapers at his chin to a point. 

   But then there’s his smile. It utterly betrays his big bad nuclear android aesthetic.

   It’s sickeningly confident in a way that strikes Holly as goofy. Kinda like when you unlock the final boss as a playable character and they turn into a goober. They’re still awesome! And they’re also a goober.

   With that out of the way, it should be worth noting he’s also about nine feet tall.
   
   Y’know. As a treat. 

   Holly’s cheeks grow unbearably warm. 

   He's a Digimon! And not just any Digimon, he’s an Andromon variant.

   Solar Andromon!

   Oh man, she’s always wanted him for her deck! But he’s a German card and hasn’t been released in the states yet. 

   Boo. :(

   Solar Andromon takes a stand directly below Holly, tilting his neck back to bring her into his field of view. Her eyes meet his visor. The Online text ripples. A cone of digital light leaves his visor and scans over Holly. She flinches.

   “Scanning complete. Biological anomaly detected. Seeking corrective measures for an appropriate response. Error. Error. Error: 404 not found.”

   His voice is crisp, sharp, and a little breathy. He undeniably has the kiss of a German accent. There’s something singsong about it. And beneath his words there’s an ever present hum of a motor. It’s like the gears inside of him are talking too.

   “Heyy,” Holly chuckles like a hamster with a bomb in it’s belly. “I didn’t mean to drop in unannounced. But if you’d help me down, I’d—”

   Her grip falters and she nearly slips. “—really appreciate it!”

   Solar Andromon cocks his head to the side, winces, and a spark winks off the back of his neck. 

   “Kzzt! ” He twitches. After frowning at himself and rubbing the back of his neck, he says, “How in the digital world did you happen to string yourself up there in such a manner? Fraulein! Allow me to —Kzzt! ” He twitches again. “Allow me to help you —Kzzt! Secure a low rate for your auto insurance by switching to Geico!”

   “Wait, what?!”

   “Did you know we’ve been trying to get into contact with you —Kzzt! About your car’s extended warranty?”

   “Umm, no??”

   “This video is guaranteed to make you —Kzzt! In forty seconds or less!” Solar Andromon palms his face. “I must ask for your forgiveness. For you see, I…I…I…Error. Error. Error. Kzzt! We are having trouble restoring your last browsing session. Select Restore Session to try again.”

   Holly’s brows furrow. She ignores the ache clawing at her arms in favor of studying the sparks leaping from Solar Andromon’s neck. 

   “Hey! Is that where your control panel is?”

   She gestures with a foot, her shoelace slapping against her sneaker. 

   “I-Indeed it is! That is in fact where…where…where… where you can find horny and single Mom’s wanting to —Kzzt! In your area!”

   Solar Andromon groans. “I am so very sorry.”

   “It’s okay, really,” Holly offers up a smile in reassurance. But her arms are growing tired. And wobbly. “If you can get me down, I think I can help with that. I’m the granddaughter of a mechanic. I mean, I don’t have a license or anything, but I do freelance work from home all the time. You see, we have this shop out of our house that we run and—”

   The strap on her messenger bag slides along the pipe, and Holly cries out, “I’m sure I can think of something!” 

   And down she goes.

   Holly clutches her bag while the air rushes around her. She screams. And like a pillow she lands with an oomf in Solar Andromon’s arms, the jetfire from the engines on his boots blazing.

   Solar Andromon touches his boots to the ground. The whir of his engines calms to a dull vibration.

   Meanwhile, Holly trembles. She trembles like a wet chihuahua waiting to be let back inside. And her hair looks like it just went through a hurricane (never mind that it kinda always looks like that, but that’s beside the point). 

   Once her breathing calms, she loosens the death grip she had on her bag and looks up at Solar Andromon’s face. His visor is glittering with light. He gives Holly a soft, sweet smile. 

   The Online ripples again.

   “Thank you,” She finally says. Then she squeaks out, “Oh man, I’ve always wanted your card. You’re so freakin’ cool. It’s not even fair.”

   Solar Andromon’s soft smile transforms into a full on award winning grin.

   “Ohhh? Well now! You have excellent taste. Suffice to say I am rather dashing-ing-ing —kzzt! ”

   He looks away from Holly, a blush spreading below his visor.

   Holly blushes with him. “Mind if I take a look?”

   Solar Andromon nods. He goes to open his mouth to say something, and Holly hovers a finger over his lips.

   “Don’t worry about it. Besides! I think this is seriously the best day of my life. I can’t wait to see what you’re made of.”

   Setting Holly down to her feet, Solar Andromon takes a knee and the console on the back of his neck hisses open. Holly strings her messenger bag over her shoulder. Then she hoists herself up his arm, and is guided by one of his hands to where she can take a seat between his shoulder blades and work on his control panel. 

   “Okay, let’s see,” Holly digs through her bag for her screwdriver, then the shop rags she stuffed inside earlier. “I could probably use a pair of pliers, but trust me when I say I’ve worked with less. I mean, this one time? Oh man, I repaired someone’s old Atari with nothing more than this here screwdriver and a paperclip. Good times.”

   Leaning forward, Holly peers into Solar Andromon’s neck. Radial dials, blinking lights, buttons, wires neatly tucked and threading into ports, along with a series of flip switches glimmer back at her.   

   Written on a slate above the switchboard reads the text: Control Pan

   The E and the L have been smudged out by a blown fuse. Ripping a shop rag free from the package, Holly scrubs the text and surrounding area clean. She’s able to get everything except for the streaks that have marred the E and L. But she kinda likes it like that. It's got character.

   In case she needs it again later, Holly slings the shop rag over her shoulder. Then she returns to her task, wiggles the blown fuse free, and gawks at it. 

   “This thing is so freakin’ cool. Wow,” She lifts it up and turns it around in the light. Beneath the cloudy surface there’s a maze of tubes rippling with liquid connecting the prongs. She gives the blue casing a tap of her finger. It’s not plastic. Maybe fiberglass? 

   Holly shrugs a shoulder and whispers to herself, “Mine now.”

   She puts the blown fuse into her bag. 

   In any case, sometimes if you’re really lucky, expensive electronics come with a back up fuse slotted into a compartment separate from their switchboard. Would he even have one of those? Looking up, Holly spots a card sized panel of steel just below his hat. 

   She reaches her hand towards it. “Hey, do you know if this is where you keep your spare fuses?”

   Steam hisses from below Holly’s palm as the panel lifts and folds back. 

   Her jaw falls open. 

   There are seven fresh fuses, all neatly lined up in a row and glowing the colors of the rainbow.

   Carefully, as if she were plucking a pearl from an oyster, Holly wiggles the sparkling blue fuse free. 

   The panel slides shut.

   She presses it into the outlet in the control panel. But nothing clicks. It won’t stay unless she keeps it there with one of her fingers. Glancing beneath the outlet, she finds a hole no larger than the width of a number two pencil.

   Hmm.

   Holly hunts around for the missing screw. She finds it lodged behind the motherboard. 

   “How did you even get there?” She holds it up and asks. As a result of noticing that it’s been bent out of shape, she scrunches her nose up.

   Silly thing.

   ...

   Holly purses her lips. She glances around the room. Then she sneaks the screw into her bag. 

   What?

   Oh, come on. It’s not like he’s gonna miss it.

   Anyways. 

   Holly scratches at her head. When her fingers graze the screw she keeps tucked behind her ear, she slides it free like a bobby pin, smiles at it, and tests it against the hole beneath the fuse outlet. 

   Her heart swells with fondness. 

   It’s a perfect fit. 

   Holly tightens it into place. Once secure, she presses the fuse into the outlet. It clicks. The liquid inside shimmers brightly. She gives his control panel a last wipe down, checks for any other odds and ends, only opting to close him back up when she doesn’t find any. 

   She watches the panel rotate forward and sink into place, the words: Control Pan being the last thing she sees.

   Holly smiles. She gives the panel an affectionate pat. 

   “I think that should do it!” She announces. “Try to say something now.”

   Silence.

   “Um, you there?”

   The seconds stretch.

   “Hellooooooooo? Anybody home?”

   No response.

   Holly’s lungs shrivel. Without another word, she hops down and scurries to his front. 

   Her blood runs cold. 

   He’s just like a statue, with his arm folded over his bent knee. His visor has dimmed. In a dull red, it reads: Offline. 

   “Oh my god, no, no, no, no, no,” Standing on the tips of her toes, Holly reaches up and cups Solar Andromon’s face. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay! I can fix this, I can fix this—”

   Solar Andromon’s visor pulses. Holly startles with an eek! in surprise. She looks at his visor once again and it reads: Please Standby. 

   “Rebooting,” Solar Andromon’s mouth cracks open with a yawn. The warmth of his breath sweeps over Holly, and it smells like oil splashed on a hot engine. While most might find it offensive, she likes it. It’s a comforting smell. One she’s come to associate with her childhood, arts and crafts, and other hobbies. 

   “Are you okay??”

   Solar Andromon licks his lips, and yawns again. Only this time, he covers his mouth and says, “It seems I shut down there for a wink. My sincerest apologies. I was truly unaware of how very relaxing system maintenance could be.” 

   The text on his visor blinks to: Online. It brightens to a brilliant blue.

   Meanwhile, Holly’s face turns a bright red. “You scared the crap outta me! At least warn a girl next time, Jesus Christ. I thought I had gone and killed you. Or something crazy like that.”

   “Your concern is misplaced. Rest assured that I’m quite alright. Matter of fact!”

   Solar Andromon springs to his feet, and Holly’s eyes widen. Her blush darkens considerably. 

   Oh. Oh, he’s tall. She couldn't quite tell just how tall until now. I mean, she knew he was nine feet tall and all, but she's literally standing in his shadow. It’s completely consumed her with room to spare. 

   Holly twirls a lock of hair, fighting the goofy smile off of her face. 

   “Haha! I feel fresh from the assembly line! Simply marvelous, darling! My circuits are positively electric with song,” Gracing a hand atop the jet engine fit into his chest, Solar Andromon extends his other hand out as if he were on Broadway. “Long has it been since these lonely hallways have been gifted the richness of my glorious voice!”

   Holly clasps her hands in prayer over her mouth. She tries not to laugh. But a few giggles slip out.

   “Oh? Vas is das?” Solar Andromon gazes down at Holly. He grins. “Too much for you, hmmm? Do I happen to be giving you body?”

   To emphasize his point, Solar Andromon puts his hands on his waist. He adds in a toss of his hip to the side. 

   “I mean,” Holly starts laughing. “You’re pretty hot, not gonna lie.”

   “I am detecting irony, with trace elements of sarcasm. Deduction: Humor. Haha! Liebling! Oh, a pun! How delightful. Allow me to try! Ahem.”

   Solar Andromon swings one of his boots over to Holly. “Now then. I would hate to get off on the wrong foot.”

   “Yeah,” Holly points at the engines humming beneath his boot. “I don’t wanna have to jet.”

   “Come now. Stay for a byte.”

   “Only if we can eat bit by bit.”

   Solar Andromon tilts his head back and laughs. “Fraulein! Best be careful. Or these puns are going to LAN you in hot water.”

   “Oh man, looks like I’m all washed up.”

   “Very well. Leave me to drown in my sorrow, as you will.”

   “It’s not my fault you hosed me.”

   “You should come to understand my bark is far worse than my byte.”

   Holly’s nose scrunches up. But she’s smiling so hard her face hurts. “Heyyyy. You can’t use the same word again. That’s not fair.”

   “C'est la vie, my dear. Such is life,” Bringing himself down to a knee once again, Solar Andromon reaches a hand towards Holly. He slips a finger below her chin and gently raises her head up. “Tell me, what brings you to the land of the Digimon sovereign? And if I may be so prudent as to ask, what are you, precisely? Certainly not a Digimon. Hmhmhmhm. I am detecting not an ounce of data within the integrity of your structural composites. How curious. You are organic, are you not?”

   “Well, my Mom would tell you I’m an alien. But I’m sadly just your everyday average human person thing. My freckles are rare, though! They’re actually from this super cool gene that regulates how much melanin your skin can produce. And man, mine made a lot.”

   Solar Andromon tenses. He slides his hand away from Holly, and looks over his shoulder.

   Silence.

   The room feels like it's closing in.

   Holly shrinks back. “Was it something I said?”

   “Come closer, Fraulein,” Solar Andromon turns back to her and whispers, “And keep your voice down.”

   Cupping his hand around Holly’s back once she draws near, Solar Andromon asks, “What happens to be your name?”

   “Um, Holly. Holly Leonhardt. The uh, Leonhardt has a D in it.”

   A pitying smile spreads his lips thin.

   “A beautiful name for a beautiful young woman, truly,” A pause. “You mustn't be here, Holly. Not long ago, I received a broadcast transmission containing a set of orders which instructed me to terminate any human on sight. Without question. Without mercy.”

   “B-But I thought,” Holly clutches her bag. She tries to step back, but Solar Andromon curls his fingers around her. “I-I didn’t even mean to come here. I don’t know what happened. One minute I was in my garage, and the next,” She pauses, looks up into his visor, and pleads with her eyes. “You’re not gonna? Are you?”

   “I am a gentleman, Fraulein. And I take offense to your implications,” He leans in closer and the engine in his chest revs. “Negative. I will commit no such act. Fear not, for I am going to help you escape this facility.”

Chapter three: Paint the Night with Stars

   The metallic walls within the nuclear power plant glint like a skyscraper under a dry desert sun. 

   Solar Andromon scoops Holly up, and sets her on his shoulders. She threads her feet through the tubes on either side of his neck. The molten lava inside is purling with the idle of his engines. 

    A robot reminiscent of a cookie tin on wheels zips out from a slit in the walls. It races towards the debris of what used to be Holly’s cell phone. Like a vacuum choking on loose change, it begins sucking up the scattered pieces.

   “Hey,” Holly whispers to Solar Andromon. “Is that a Roombamon?”

   “How prejudiced. To believe any piece of data roving about might as well be a Digimon.”

   “I-I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought-”

   “You simply thought it was a Digimon, did you not?”

    “...I’m sorry.”

   “Are you now,” Solar Andromon turns his head to the side, a smirk teasing at his lips. “Truly?

   She dares to let a smile creep over hers. “Heyyy. Are you messin' with me?”

   “Perhaps.”

   They share a light hearted laugh. Holly relaxes, and Solar Andromon touches a finger to one of her sneakers. “Hold on tight, liebling.”

   “...Is there, um,” Holly secures her messenger bag in her lap. “Anything I should watch out for? What about other Digimon?”

   “Negative. I am the sole Digimon present managing the operations behind this facility. However, it should be worth noting there exist a series of nefarious traps, surveillance cameras, and drones concealed within these walls.”

   Solar Andromon points to the robot cleaning up Holly’s cell phone. “Consider yourself blessed with luck. Our friend there is outfitted with quite the nasty little laser.”

   Holly leans her body against the back of Solar Andromon’s head, the need to feel safe lifting her arms and timidly wrapping them under his chin. The engine in his chest revs. 

   “There can be found not an inch, nook, or cranny within this power plant that I do not have intimate knowledge of. Be not afraid. I shall protect you.”

   Holly dips her chin to rest on Solar Andromon’s hat. After a moment, she relaxes fully and whispers, “Thank you.”

   The engine in his chest roars with life. The vibrations from the power have sent Holly’s legs into a bounce. Once it calms, Solar Andromon clears his throat. But his voice is husky as he says, “It is my pleasure.”

   The clank of Solar Andromon’s boots echoes throughout the facility. Holly watches their reflection pass in the gleaming, metal finish of the walls. 

   Several minutes pass.

   Holly jumps with surprise at the sound of Solar Andromon’s booming voice. 

   [Electromagnetic Outbreak]

   Upon throwing his arms out, a psionic pulse of energy ripples off of Solar Andromon in a shock wave. Sparks pop out of the walls and fizzle. 

   “Ah. How unfortunate. It seems corridor 5A is experiencing technical difficulties.”

   Holly giggles. “Does this happen often?”

   “Negative. This is indeed an unusually rare occurrence!”

   “Man, must have come to you as a real shocker then.”

   A laugh catches in Solar Andromon’s throat. “Watt did you just happen to say?”

   It takes Holly a second. She giggles again. “I didn’t say anything. But I guess we’d better bolt outta here, huh?”

   “Haha! Fraulein! I’ll have us out in a flash, just you wait and see.”

   She buries her face in his hat and laughs. Solar Andromon chuckles too, and takes on the stance of a pitcher with his leg lifted before racing down the hall. His boots are hitting the floor like a basketball player bouncing a bowling ball. Bam. Bam. Bam. Holly’s still laughing, her hair flowing behind her. This is just like when she was a little kid. Back when she’d steal her Mom’s office chair so she could push it down the hallway, jump on it, and ride it for as far as it could take her. 

    They come across a flight of steps leading to the rooftop of the facility. Solar Andromon takes them four at a time. When they reach the top of the stairwell, he punches in a code and the doors leading outside beep before sliding open. He steps through them.

   Cooling towers chugging with smoke sit like mountains across the expanse of the nuclear power plant. The sounds of generators humming and turbines spinning drone in the air. Rather than transmission spires or possessing a switchyard, there are fiber optic cables bound together and fed into tunnels underground. 

   “Drink in the majesty of your surroundings, Fraulein. Your eyes at this very moment are feasting upon the singularly largest nuclear power station in the entire digital world!”

   “Oh, my god,” Holly breathes. “It’s massive. It’s seriously like a metal ocean out there. What is all of this power even used for?”

   “Much like a choir director, this is where I orchestrate and deliver the glorrry of electricity throughout the four hemispheres of the digital world. All other facilities merely act as a compliment to mine.”

   “But you said you were the only Digimon here. Do you really,” Holly scans the horizon, nothing but metal and smoke filling her eyes. “Do you really do all of this here on your own?”

   “Indeed I do. Such is the purpose behind my existence. This responsibility was one bestowed upon me by the Digimon Sovereign himself,” Reaching back behind his head, Solar Andromon gently lifts Holly up and sets her on the ground just as softly. She smiles with a scrunched up nose as he pushes her hair out of her face with two fingers. “Behind you rest a flight of steps which shall guide you towards an alleyway between this building, and the adjacent. From there it is but an Antylamon’s hop away from the desert. Follow the desert to the north, and in good time you should find yourself within the shelter of Ebonwumon’s forest. He is the peaceful sovereign of the northern hemisphere. You will be welcome within his domain.”

   The sensation of a nose dive sweeping over Holly drains the color from her face. She glances over her shoulder, points at the stairwell, and then herself. Everything around her feels like it’s spinning. “O-Okay. The staircase. Walk down the staircase, then the alley, then the desert, then Ebonwumon’s forest. Yeah. Sure. I can totally do that. It’s not a big deal. None at all.”

   “Forgive me. It is the only option at your disposal.”

   “Well yeah,” Holly puts it bluntly. “I don’t wanna die.”

   The Online text behind the screen of Solar Andromon’s visor ripples. 

   “You will make your way to Ebonwumon’s forest at daybreak. At said time is when I manually override the security system and give it the swift kick of a reboot for routine maintenance. That will be your window of opportunity. It will arouse the least suspicion, for I can not afford to perform another electromagnetic outbreak,” A nervous chuckle catches in Solar Andromon’s throat. He sighs it out and rubs the back of his neck. “Ahh. I fear I may have already, as they say, pushed my luck with that little performance. Alas, that is neither here nor there. The alternative was and still is unconscionable to me.”

   Holly holds her messenger bag against her chest. “No one’s ever stuck their neck out for me like that. I don’t know how to thank you.”

   “Duly noted. Yet your appreciation is not required. By way of contrast, allow me to offer you my sincerest gratitude.”

   “Wait, you want to thank me? Why on Earth would you do that?”

   “Until now, I have yet to properly extend my thanks for the maintenance I so desperately required that you performed on me. Ohhh, it was truly mortifying. The shame, liebling. The shame! To spout off the unsolicited rubbish from the database as I did. Keeping this confidential between you and me, I care not to explain just how many times the words: You’ve got mail! Were forced past my lips.”

   “Okay, you said that way too well.”

   “What might I say for myself,” Pan flashes Holly a smile. “Other than I have a quite a bit of practice.”

   They share a laugh. One of the cooling towers rumbles before erupting with fluffy, white smoke. The control rods in the containment units nuclear reactor hum. From the pressure valve, a hiss whistles. 

   Sighing from the back of his throat, Solar Andromon slides down to a seat. He extends one leg out, bending the other at the knee and planting his boot against the ground. Holly studies him from the knee up to the groin, and how all the plates of steel and chords fit together to mimic ligaments and muscle.

   “Oh? Like what you see, hmmmmm?”

   Holly looks up to Solar Andromon’s face to catch him smirking. There’s a haughtiness to the way he’s squaring up his shoulders that has her cheeks growing redder by the second. She groans and hides her face behind her bag. But then she starts giggling. 

   Pleased with the result, Solar Andromon softens into a smile, plants his palms on the ground behind him, and relaxes into gazing at the sky above. 

   A shadow as wide as the horizon speeds over the desert. It races across the Nuclear power plant, pulling a blanket of darkness over the sky.

   “What the Hell was that?!”

   Solar Andromon glances down to Holly. “I beg your pardon?”

   She points at the sky. “Is that how night time happens here?! Jesus freakin’ Christ, that’s insane! That was so fast!”

   “Is it now?” A pause. “And how might the days cycle in your world?”

   Holly stills. A little smile creeps up onto her face. Adjusting the strap on her messenger bag, she hunts around for a place to sit. That’s when Solar Andromon lifts one of his hands, and offers her his leg to rest her back against with a gesture. He sets his hand back down, and she takes a seat. 

   His chest engine purrs down to a faint, idle hum. The blades spinning within slow to a crawl. While Holly gathers her thoughts to form an answer, the Online text behind Solar Andromon’s visor flips to Please Standby. 

   When Holly notices, she whispers, “Hey, did you fall asleep again?”

   “Negative,” Comes his answer straight away. But then his mouth cracks open with a long, drawn out yawn. “Forgive me. I grow rather sluggish over the course of the late night hours.”

   “That’s okay. I don’t mind.”

   A pause.

   Holly frowns at the ground. She walks her knees up to her chest, wraps her arms around her legs, and tilts her head to relax into her shoulder. 

   “You should get some rest, yeah? It can wait.”

   “Nonsense. Tell me now, if you would be so kind. Fill my memory card with dreams of the material world. Start from the beginning. I want to know everything.”

   “Okayy. You asked for it.”

   Her eyes find the stars. 

   “When it boils down to it, Earth really is just another rock drifting through space. What makes it special, though, is the life that occupies it. There’s a lot. Like, a lot a lot. So I’ll start off with me. Well, not me exactly, but what I am. A human, a person, part of a collective species of influencers that have shaped the world into what it is today.”

   Holly hugs her legs tighter. “But there’s something you’ve gotta know, first: We’re a messy species. We fight. A lot. Over stupid things. I can’t even begin to try to tell you about human history without shooting myself in the foot. War has defined us. Religion has divided us. And money rarely ever serves a purpose outside of fueling those two agendas.”

   “But we’re not all bad. We create. We create beautiful things. A lot of the time, contrary to popular belief, without reason. And I think that’s one of the most beautiful things of all. That we paint flowers just because we feel like it. We’re an emotional species. And we mourn over our dead,” Holly releases a solemn sigh. “For a really long time.”

   “I am detecting a significant change in your demeanor and tone. Conclusion: Grief. Fraulein, what is troubling you so?”

   “Remember how I said I was the granddaughter of a mechanic? Well. Um,” A pause. “I lost my Grandpa six years ago. His heart gave out. Life just hasn't been the same since. And I don’t think I’ll ever stop grieving. That’s why I said that we mourn over our dead for a really long time. And sometimes, we die and pass on that sorrow to the next generation.”

   “Forgive my lack of understanding. So long as we aren’t absorbed upon death, Digimon have the potential to reform and are born again from Digi-eggs. Is this not possible with your kind?”

   “We only live once. That’s why a lot of us, myself included, think it’s important to lead the best lives we can. We don’t always achieve that, but ehhhhhh. It’s the thought that counts, y’know?”

   “With prudence, allow me to ask you this: Under the umbrella of my knowledge pertaining to the lifespan of biological lifeforms, why do you grieve for an extended period of time? Is this not counterproductive to your goal of leading, as you said, the best life you can?”

   “Slow your roll on that one. It’s like I said: We’re messy. And rarely ever objective. Attempting to figure out someone’s thought process is like trying to get the number thirty seven to pop up on a twenty sided die,” Holly shrugs a shoulder. “We make a lot of mistakes. And we spend a lot of our lives trying to make sense of those mistakes. Sometimes, we’re better for it. Other times, worse. Think of the whole of humanity like a tree. Some of us dig our roots real deep, while others reach for the sky. Then there are those that are content with supporting others, branches sprouting twigs holding up thousands of leaves.”

   “I see. And where do you fall on this almighty tree?”

   Holly smirks. “I’m the twig that snapped off.”

   Solar Andromon chuckles like an old man amused by a sleight of hand. 

   “Digimon are far less allegorical. Those of us not gifted with a higher purpose roam the digital world in search of it. These Digimon often lead meaningless, violent lives. They are, as you might say, the loose screws to a finished project.”

   “In other words, they’re the twig that snapped off the tree.”

   “Negative. I believe the twig that snapped from the tree will one day become a tree within her own right.”

   Holly blushes with a soft smile. “Where are you in all of this?”

   “Who am I to say? To give plausibility to the notion that I have ulterior motives is an affront the Digimon Sovereign. The act in and of itself is treason of the highest order.”

   “But you do have motives.”

   “Negative. I was created for the sole purpose of overseeing this facility. Nothing more, nothing less.”

   “Then why help me?”

   Solar Andromon tilts his head back. “Hypothetically speaking: Perhaps I do not belong to a finished project, nor am I a screw absent a home. Perhaps, with the impression my words are purely speculative, I belong elsewhere.”

   Holly watches the reflection of stars upon the screen of his visor twinkle. It looks like he has the entire night sky caught in there, a universe of infinite possibilities glittering like loose diamonds.

   Changing her seating position, Holly stretches her legs forward and out, holds her bag against her chest, and rests her chin atop it.

   She gazes dreamily at Solar Andromon. “Go on.”

   He looks unsure of himself. Then he takes a deep breath. 

   “...Among Digimon, there exists quite the whimsical little tale circling around you humans. It’s been traded throughout our history that humans are our key to becoming something greater than the sum of all of our data. The legend is unclear as to how this feat is accomplished. Yet there are songs Digimon sing in the north of a bond shared with a human, one so white hot with intensity, it takes on the form of a device containing a wreath: The shared soul of a Digimon and their bonded human. This wreath, as it were, acts as a catalyst for power and can grant us the strength we lack on our own to digivolve.”

   Solar Andromon chuckles like a man recalling the magic of his youth. “Ahhh. Alas, while expectant with the sense of wonder, the tale in and of itself is poppycock. It’s rubbish, I say. Utterly nonsensical.”

   “Y-yeah,” Holly chokes on her words. “I guess you’re right. I mean, it does sound kinda silly. Cause it’s not like we could fit into those roles, y’know? What’re the odds? Even though I’m here and don’t know how, you’re here, and we’re here together, and, yeah. It just sounds an awful lot like wishful thinking to me.”

   “Precisely! It pleases me greatly, Fraulein. To know we’re on the same page.”

   “Yeah! It’s totally just ironic.”

   “Tis nothing more than a coincidence, purely.”

   “You got that right.”

   They fall into silence. 

   The building beside them rumbles. Smoke continues to pour out of the cooling towers.

   Dropping his chin down, Solar Andromon gazes at Holly while she picks at the frayed edges of her bag. A smile warms his face. She can see it out of the corner of her eyes. 

   “Fraulein. Perhaps, if you would care to indulge my foolishness-”

   He doesn’t have to say more. Throwing the flap back on her messenger bag, Holly digs through it. She pushes around all the junk inside, hand swimming in loose screws, hard candies, and pencils.

   The inside of her heart shrivels when all she can find is her Gameboy.

   Refusing to look at Solar Andromon, Holly closes her messenger bag back up. She tries to open her mouth to say something. But she’s too embarrassed. Too disappointed. Too hurt.

   …

   Kazu’s right.

   Holly wraps her arms around her messenger bag. And presses her face into it.

   She really is a moron. 

   Solar Andromon sighs. He clears his throat. And sighs again.

   Silence.

   “Holly,” he finally whispers. “Won’t you tell me more of your world? Perhaps we can return to the roots of our previous conversation. I would still very much like to hear of how your days pass into nights. Oh, won’t you tell me, Fraulein?”

   He’s greeted with more silence.

   “I-I see. My apologies.”

   By the time Holly looks up, eyes sore from masking her tears, she reads the dimmed: Offline on Solar Andromon’s visor. 

   She cries herself to sleep.

Chapter four: Meteor Shower

   Holly wakes up to sunlight rolling across the nuclear power plant, and rushing towards her. 

   She flinches. And squeezes her eyes shut.

   The sunlight passes over her and keeps going. Warmth showers her arms in goosebumps. 

   Holly blinks her eyes open. A sigh of relief turned yawn tickles the roof of her mouth. 

   Why did she think it was going to hurt?

   Tilting her gaze towards the staircase, a black pit of dread forms in Holly’s stomach. The nuts and bolts in her messenger bag shift as she gives it a hug. 

   …Maybe that’s why. 

   How big is the desert? Is there anything dangerous out there? And what is she supposed to do once she reaches Ebonwumon’s forest?

   Holly’s shoulders tighten.

   How… 

   How is she gonna get home?

   She turns to look at Solar Andromon. The black pit in her gut nearly swallows her whole when she sees the Online across his visor ripple. 

   “Guten Morgen, Geliebte.”

   His voice is so soft right now. Like a breathing flower.

   “Good morning,” She whispers back. “How long have you been awake?”

   “Approximately sixteen minutes and counting.”

   Holly tries not to wince. But her smile is pitiful at best.

   Has he been staring at her this whole time?

   …

   Ice rushes in to pack around Holly’s heart. 

   How pathetic did she look last night, digging through her bag?

   She can already hear Kazu now:

    “Woooow. Way to go, Mecha Moron. Did you really think you of all people were going to get a Digimon? Please. No one’s getting a Digimon before me. Least of all you. And an Ultimate?! Fat chance! Only time you’re going to pull a stunt like that is with that trash heap you call a deck.”

    Holly’s pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of Solar Andromon’s voice. 

   “Forgive me. I must take my leave here shortly, and disable the security system’s server for routine maintenance as promised. It is the only way.”

   Her eyes sink to the floor. But she nods her head.

   Solar Andromon takes to his feet, his coat clapping in the air thanks to a passing breeze. He gazes out over the nuclear power plant. “May I ask you something?”

   “Y-Yeah," She looks up at him. "Of course you can.”

   “Is it true?” A pause. “Do humans dream?”

   “Not every night. But sometimes. Why do you ask?”

   “I believe I may have had my very first dream.”

   Holly hugs her messenger bag. “Can I ask what it was about?”

   He continues to stare straight ahead. A cooling tower coughs up smoke. Something whistles below them, like a tea kettle fused with a train horn. The early morning groans of machinery follows. 

   Solar Andromon smiles the kind of solemn smile reserved for a funeral. His coat laps at the air with another passing breeze. 

   “I dreamt I belonged elsewhere.”

   Holly folds her head down, her heart aching.

   She doesn’t know what to say. 

   Footsteps. 

   When Holly looks up, she’s face to face with Solar Andromon bent down on one knee. 

   The Online across his visor ripples. 

   With two fingers, he sweeps Holly’s hair out of her face and tucks some loose curls behind her ear. He smiles when they refuse and bounce back to where they were. 

   “Allow me to thank you,” He whispers. “For breaking up the monotony of my existence. Even if only but for a day. I will never forget you, Holly.”

   Hot tears squeeze out of her eyes. She tries to rub them away. But they won’t stop streaming down her cheeks. 

   “I’ll never forget you, either, umm,” She continues to rub her eyes. “Do Digimon have names? I mean, if there were two of you, would both of you be called Solar Andromon?”

   “Affirmative. Why do you happen to ask?”

   “When I was changing out that fuse you blew, I saw the words Control Pan. I’m pretty sure they were supposed to say Control Panel, but that fuse must’ve scorched the E and L off when it popped. I tried to scrub it clean. But I couldn’t get it. I think that’s why it really stood out to me.”

   Holly toys with the strap on her messenger bag. “I guess what I’m trying to ask is, can I call you Pan?”

   “Researching database for the word Pan. Conclusion: Multiple definitions cited. Top results include: Ancient Greek Religion. Pan, son of Hermes, God of Music and Impromptus. Peter Pan. A fictional character associated with freedom created by Scottish Novelist and playwright J.M. Barrie. Pan. Transitive verb: To rotate, so as to keep an object secure. Hmmmm,” Solar Andromon hums with thought. “Permission granted. You may address and refer to me as Pan, should you see it fit to do so.”

   Holly smiles warmly. “Thank you, Pan. I’ll never ever forget you. And I hope I’ll get to see you again someday. I’ll wish for it every time I blow out a candle. You can count on it.”

   The engine humming within Pan’s chest revs like an old muscle car. He smiles the saddest smile she’s ever seen at the ground, and for a moment, she can’t breathe. 

   “Come with me,” She blurts out. 

   Pan's visor dims. He loses his smile. “Keep your eyes trained on the North. Should you make haste, you will reach Ebonwumon’s forest in two days' time.”

   Without another sound, Pan rises to his feet. He lends Holly his hand. She accepts, and he lifts her up to a stand. They avoid eye contact.

   “....Every twenty four hours, Earth rotates on its axis. Whenever it’s daytime where I live, it’s because that’s the side of Earth that’s facing the sun. As it continues to spin, and where I live is moved away from the sun, it becomes night time. That’s how our days pass into nights. And vice versa. But that’s not all.”

   Holly steps closer to Pan. She wraps her fingers around one of his thumbs. “4.5 billion years ago, back when Earth was still trying to figure itself out, it got pelted by meteorites argued to be the size of small planets. It was really chaotic. The surface was an ocean of magma, and volcanoes were constantly erupting. But it eventually all evened out. And it’s because of that rocky start we have the life we have today. Without that hailstorm of meteorites, comets, and stuff way back when, we wouldn’t have our moon. And that thing? Man. Get a load of this.”

   “The moon was born from the largest meteorite that hit Earth early on. It sent Earth on one Hell of a tail spin. Remember how I said every twenty four hours Earth rotates on its axis? Well, back then, because of that bad boy, we were down to six. But! Everything stabilized thanks to the birth of the moon. You see, Earth and its moon have this push and pull type of relationship due to the nature of their gravity. So, over time, the moon was able to get Earth to slow itself down. That’s why we have twenty four hours in a day. And it’s also why we have changing seasons.”

   Holly squeezes Pan’s thumb. She drops her voice to a whisper. “Winter. Summer. Spring and Fall. There are so many colors, Pan. It’s beautiful. The changing of the seasons has shaped culture on my planet in ways I can’t even begin to describe. Like, we go absolutely bonkers for Pumpkin spice everything in the fall. It’s actually hilarious. And none of it would’ve been possible without that crazy beginning. So, I guess what I’m trying to say in a roundabout way, is not much can happen without change.”

   “I-I don’t know how it happened. But I crashed through that ceiling like a freakin’ meteor,” Holly looks up at Pan’s face. She chokes on her words. “C-Come with me, Pan. Please. Even if you think it’s a mistake. Cause, before I got here, I was gearing up to write this paper on quantum fluctuations, and how mistakes in the universe can—”

   A clogged, sputtering rev from Pan’s engine cuts Holly off. 

   He gazes down at her, his visor dimmed. The Online flickers. 

   Pan releases a sigh which trembles over his lips.

   Bending down, he cups the back of Holly’s head with one hand, draws her close, and welds his lips to her forehead.

   Tears slide down from her eyes.

   She doesn’t blink.

   “Take your leave when the lights lining the stairwell cycle to red. It will be safe for you then," He whispers. "Farewell, Fraulein. And godspeed.”

   Pan walks away. He leaves Holly alone atop the roof of the power plant, the door closing behind him with a click.

   Tears continue to drop from her eyes. They’re splashing against the ground between her sneakers. She still hasn’t blinked. 

   A breeze carries Holly’s hair over her shoulder. 

   The seconds stretch.

   Smoke stacks gushing from the cooling towers dotting the power plant have started to spread out where they kiss the clouds. A water valve lets loose a low pitched whine, somewhere. Similar to a power outage, the echo of the security system switching off drones an electrical buzz in the air. 

   The lights on the staircase blink to red. 

   Holly clutches her messenger bag against her chest. She stares at the door leading back into the facility, waiting for him to come back.

   …

   Her posture wilts. Tucking her chin down, Holly secures the strap of her messenger bag across her shoulder, and shuffles towards the staircase. She keeps one hand on the guardrail as she makes her way down. It wobbles with the rumblings of the power plant. 

   When she reaches the bottom, she enters the alleyway as promised between the two buildings. It’s empty, much like the inner hallways of an abandoned mall. It’s dark too, save for the red glow behind her, fading with each footstep forward. 

   The orchestra of the groaning water pumps, humming control rods, and turbines whirling like helicopter blades haunt Holly until she reaches near the end.

   But it’s still singing behind her. 

   She’s not sure if she’ll ever shake this feeling, this one of percussion, steam, and gears hollowing out her bones. It’s an emptiness like no other. The closest thing that comes to mind is when she watched them lower her Grandpa’s casket. 

   Holly stops at the mouth of the alleyway leading out into the desert, the toe of her sneaker touching the sand. Slipstreams of dust are blowing across the empty horizon. Heat distorts the air. Everything seems to have a clear, wavering outline. It’s almost hypnotic. 

   She stands there watching sheets of sand sigh over the desert. The minutes pass. 

   Hoping to see Pan behind her, Holly looks over her shoulder and gazes down the alleyway. A piece of her heart dies while staring into the dark. She turns her head and gives a last look at the building she knows he’s working in. It makes her chest ache.

   When she brings her attention to the other building, she notices a tinted window overcome with dust. She can see the silhouette of something inside. Consumed with curiosity (and finding any excuse not to leave), Holly shuffles over to the window. She takes the hem of her shirt and cleans herself a spot to peer through. 

   She has to squint her eyes to see anything clearly.

   It looks to be a vehicle of some sorts. Maybe a hover skiff? She’s not sure. It’s… oddly shaped. Like a smooth, elongated egg outfitted with a pair of translucent wings that remind her of orchid petals. The cockpit is open, the glass dome sitting straight up. But she can’t see much else. Other than it looks like it’s been there for a long, long time.

   Holly's arms grow heavy, and she faces the desert. 

   The wind howls like a resurrected phantom.

   And then, there’s silence. 

   Holly steps out into the sand. 

   Footsteps trailing behind her, Holly cuts across the desert and heads north. 

   It doesn’t take long for her shoes to become scuffed and chalky. There’s sand in her socks. A dusty tan has faded the denim of her jeans. And as the hours pass, her lips grow chapped from licking at them.

   Some time ago, she tried to look behind her to see if she could still spot the power plant. 

   She was instead greeted with the blue sky lining the flat edge of the desert. 

Chapter five: The Soul of Reverie

   Facing the center console and with his back to the humming control rods of a nuclear reactor, Solar Andromon reboots the security system maintaining supervision over his containment block. 

   His engines idle into silence when the light above the exit blinks from red to green. 

   The control rods continue to thrum with crackles of radiation at his back. 

   “Requesting permission to access the database. Permission granted. Define: Mistake,” Solar Andromon bows his head. “Mistake. Noun. Definition: A wrong action attributable to poor judgment, ignorance, or inattention. Synonyms include: Fault, error, and oversight.”

   A warning message blips onto the screen set in the middle of the center console. It projects a green hologram of the nuclear reactor, alongside its accompanying control and fuel rods. One of the control rods blinks yellow. 

   Solar Andromon’s shoulders droop with his sigh. He types in his access code, banishes the message, and reaches over to a switch shielded with a plastic cover. Lifting the cover, he takes hold of the switch and gives it a twist. 

   The nuclear reactor groans. A mechanical hiss sighs through the air. The control rods lower. Slowly but surely, over the next six to ten hours, subcriticality is achieved, and the nuclear reactor shuts down. 

   Solar Andromon passed the time by patrolling the hallways. When he came across where Holly crashed through the ceiling, much like the meteorite she claimed to be, he simply stood there in silence. 

   He didn’t leave until he received confirmation through the database that the nuclear reactor was ready for support. 

   Floating above the nuclear reactor, and with a fresh control rod stowed under one arm, Solar Andromon highlights the one to be interchanged with his visor. It illuminates with a fluorescent teal. Holding his free hand above it, the electromagnet stored in his palm begins to vibrate. The control rod below wiggles and groans. With a grunt, Solar Andromon lifts his hand. The control rod slides out like the core of a freshly hollowed apple. 

  Kinetic energy wavering between his palm and the control rod, he moves it away and leans it near the exit at the ready for disposal. He lands on the nuclear reactor, takes a knee, and gently slides the new control rod into place. At which point he breathes in a wisp of the xenon gas from below. He takes the fumes into his lungs, and sighs them out like cigar smoke. The liquid in the tubes flanking his neck ripples. 

   After performing a system diagnostic and dummy start up of the nuclear reactor, Solar Andromon flipped the switch that would bring it back online. Following his next objective, Solar Andromon retrieves the control rod leaning beside the exit door, takes it under an arm, and brings it to the disposal chute.

   He lifts the bulkhead. The control rod clanks down the chute and disappears. 

   Solar Andromon dusts his hands.

   Upon taking his leave, one of the nuclear power plant's automated maintenance droids rolls past his boot. The droid, no larger than a hubcap wheel, zips up to a chute. Solar Andromon lifts the bulkhead. 

   “There you are, meine freund.”

   "Hey, is that a Roombamon?"

   Solar Andromon smiles wistfully.

    A panel atop the maintenance droid's top slides back. As if it were on an elevator, a bin of trash raises up and out of the droid. Popping out of its side, an arm with two prongs for a hand clamps around the trash bin. It shakes the waste out. 

   “D i s p e n s i n g.”

   Dust, sand, and flecks of glass mixed with black plastic tumble into the chute.

   Time comes to a sorrowful halt.

   Solar Andromon watches the shards of Holly’s cell phone twinkle into the dark. 

   The maintenance droid rolls away. 

   Hand still holding up the bulkhead, Solar Andromon stares down the garbage chute.

   The silence roars in his ears.

   A sudden increase in pressure within his chest stalls his engines.

   “Warning. Imminent shutdown detected,” Solar Andromon’s visor flips to: Please Standby. “Warning. Imminent shutdown detected. Imin..nent..sh..ut..do…w..n─”

   The bulkhead slams shut as Solar Andromon’s arm falls to his side. His body slumps forward. 

   Half an hour passes.

   Cotton lines his brain when he reboots. He groans through the dizziness. Once his visor blinks to Online and ripples, he turns his back to the garbage chute and rests against the bulkhead. He allows for his arms to hang loose at his sides. Tilting his chin up, Solar Andromon stares at the ceiling. 

   The ghost of a smile touches his face. “Accessing database. Define: Holly. Noun. A widely distributed shrub, typically having prickly dark green leaves, small white flowers, and red berries. Synonyms include: Mistletoe, Winterberry, and Christmas rose.”

   Solar Andromon purses his lips in thought. 

   “Researching database for the word Christmas. Conclusion: Multiple definitions cited. Top results include: Noun. A festival celebrating the birth of Christ, held on December 25th in the Western church. Celebratory customs associated with Christmas involve popular modern practices such as gift giving, caroling, feasting, and displaying decorations including Christmas trees, lights, and Holly. In addition to Christmas, the holiday has had various other English names throughout history. The Anglo-Saxons referred to the feast as midwinter-”

   Solar Andromon’s visor shimmers. 

    “Winter. Summer. Spring and Fall. There are so many colors, Pan. It’s beautiful. The changing of the seasons has shaped culture on my planet in ways I can’t even begin to describe.”

    The facility rumbles. Smoke stacks rise from the nearest cooling tower. Performing like a pipe organ from below the sea, the nuclear reactor plays a melody of pressurized steam, howling turbines, and the ever present drone of machinery.

    “...Oh, liebling,” Solar Andromon coos, and looks down at his hands. “kleiner gefallener Stern. Now what am I to do? The Digimon Sovereign will surely have my head should I abandon my post.”

   Solar Andromon’s jet engine glows at the core. The fan blades whir, and orange glints off the metal.  He walks forward, enters a hallway, and heads for the control room. Jetfire sputters from the engines on his boots. He walks faster. His coat claps behind him.

   When he reaches the control room, he places both hands on the center console, in and amongst all the knobs, buttons, dials, and flip switches. He gazes into the screen before him, and at his reflection. 

   Solar Andromon scoffs. His fingers begin clicking against buttons, pulling at knobs, and twisting switches. 

   “Why, the nerve! Fraulein! How dare you be so flagrantly bold as to steal from me,” Solar Andromon reaches over to the wall, and curls his fingers around a lever. He pulls it down with a clunk, thus enabling all systems to swap from manual control to autopilot. 

   “kleiner gefallener Stern. The Digimon Sovereign may very well have my head for this. Ahhh, but you. You stole my heart.”

   Solar Andromon turns away from the center console, and Pan walks out of the control room. 

   The sun beats down on the desert. There’s not a cactus, tumbleweed, or barren tree in sight. Only the pink streams of data beaming down from the sky in the distance. 

   Holly hits the dirt below with an oomf. She scrambles to grab the strap of her messenger bag. 

   “Hey! Give that back!”

   Chuumon, a bubblegum rat with a swollen eye who looks like he jumped out of a rejected Disney film, gets it first. 

   “Mine now! Mine now!”

   Holding up her bag, Chuumon dances in a circle. The Mini Scumon floating above his shoulder, a Digimon that looks like a golden piece of crap (no really, he actually looks like crap), laughs. 

   Nuts, bolts, hard candies, her Gameboy along with her card deck and screwdriver scatter across the ground as Chuumon shakes everything out. He tosses her bag over his shoulder, and starts grabbing at her things like he’s playing a game of old fashioned jacks. 

   Holly wipes the corner of her mouth with her wrist. There’s blood on it from her chaffed lips. Pushing herself up, Holly charges Chuumon and tries to shove him with both of her hands. He squeaks, leaps to the side, and sticks out his foot for Holly to trip over. Once again, she hits the ground with an oomf.

   More laughter. They sound like a pair of congested hyenas. 

   The melted handle of her screwdriver catches the sun. Holly snatches it, stumbles to her feet, and pokes it out in front of her. 

   “That’s it,” Holly shouts. “Back off, or you’re gonna find this in that crummy eye of yours!”

   Chuumon throws his hands up. He shrieks, and runs away with his arms held above his head. Mini Scumon trails behind him, grubby hands toting Holly’s Gameboy. 

   “I didn’t say you could have that?! That’s mine!”

   Holly races after them, her sneakers kicking up dust.

   Chuumon gasps. “Drop it! Drop it! She’s gaining on us!”

   Holly’s Gameboy clatters to the ground. The back pops off, and her batteries roll out. 

  Chest heaving, Holly stops at her Gameboy. She places her hands on her thighs, leans forward, and catches her breath. “Y-Yeah! And don’t come back!”

   She drops to her knees. Sweat drips from her forehead to the desert below. The wet spots dotting the ground evaporate as the seconds pass. Holly allows herself to rest, popping the batteries back into her Gameboy and stuffing it into her back pocket. She looks up when the blot of a shadow slinks closer to her. 

   As if he were lining up to throw a football, Mini Scumon hurls a yellow clump at Holly. It splats next to her. Steam wafts off the spiraled tip, and it smells like—

   Holly’s jaw drops. She points at herself.

   A pause.

   “Did you just throw a handful of dookie at me?! Are you for real right now?!”

   Mini Scumon shrugs. “Eeyup. That’s what I do.”

   Another shadow slinks over Holly. It bathes her in a circle of shade. 

   “Don’t tell me,” Holly groans. “That’s your brother.”

   Chuumon jogs back to Mini Scumon, his good eye squinting. He points up at the cloudless sky. A second sun twinkles. 

   “Nyeh! What’s that up there?”

   “Maybe it’s a Digi-bird,” Mini Scumon tilts his head back. 

   “Oh! Oh! Maybe it’s a Digi-plane! Or, maybe─”

   Like a meteor cracking the Earth’s mantle, a dry and thunderous boom bursts forth from the pair of boots slamming into the ground on either side of Holly. She bounces up from the impact, and lands on her butt. 

   Breaks in the sand carve through the desert in fissures racing from the boots. The sound crackles in Holly's ears.

   An engine revs.

   Holly looks up from the legs she's between, and her eyes widen. 

   Rearing back as if it were a diesel truck made of moving parts, one of Pan’s arms unfolds into a triple barreled thermonuclear cannon. Each barrel is fluted, containing tubes bubbling with molten lava pulsing between the grooves. An unearthly power throbs from them.

   Pan adjusts the bill of his hat with his free hand. He flashes a grin down at Chuumon, then Mini Scumon. 

   A pair of mounted lasers pop out of his shoulders. 

   “Good day, Gentlemen!” Pan booms. “Lovely evening we’re having.”

   Mini Scumon ducks behind Chuumon’s shoulder. Knobby knees wobbling, Chuumon points at Holly.

   “Ohhhhhhhhhhh. Is that your friend?”

   Pan’s grin widens. 

   Mini Scumon whispers to Chuumon, “I think that means we should run.”

   The lasers on Pan's shoulders trill with a pinpoint red glow. 

   Chuumon throws his hands up, and screams like a southern belle from a horror movie. He speeds away with Mini Scumon bouncing behind him, a dusty cloud left in their wake. 

   Holly scurries to her feet. She dashes out a few paces, clasps her hands around her mouth in a cone, and shouts, “Ha! That’s what I thought! Yeah, you’d better run! And go kick rocks while you’re at it!”

   An amused chuckle hums from Pan’s throat. 

   Drawing her shoulders in, Holly takes her time turning around to face him. A hot slice of wind sweeps her hair to the side.

   They gaze at each other.

   The molten lava rippling up and down Pan’s thermonuclear cannon bubbles. 

   Holly tucks her screwdriver away into her back pocket.

   Silence.

   “I-I didn’t think─”

   “Fraulein, I─”

   A guilty smile touches Pan’s face. The same one tugs at Holly. She looks at the ground, and nudges a pebble with the toe of her sneaker. 

   Pan takes a knee with a clunky thunk. Barrels pointed down, he rests the nose of his thermonuclear cannon against the desert. It resounds like thunder in a drum when it hits the dirt. 

    As soon as Holly musters up the courage to look at him, she pouts.

   “The yellow one threw a turd at me.”

   “Did he now?” Pan masks his somber with a chuckle. “Well, Fraulein. It seems you’re having quite the crappy day.”

   “You’re telling me. My feet hurt, I smell like a gym locker, and I’m freakin' hungry,” Holly whimpers a chuckle of her own. “You could say today stinks, Pan. It really stinks.”

   Pan sucks at his teeth. She can tell he’s trying not to laugh.

   “Liebling. Come closer.”

   Holly gives Pan a suspicious look, and creeps closer. Her eyes wander over his thermonuclear cannon. A blush warms her dirty cheeks. It’s as tall as she is. 

   Pan noisily clears the phlegm from his throat. He tilts his head left, and gestures with a nod to his boot. 

   There’s a yellow smear on his heel. 

   Holly laughs. When she snorts, she covers her face and laughs some more. 

   Pan drops his voice down to a whisper. “Perhaps you would care for a joke edging on distasteful?”

   She peeks at Pan through her fingers, and nods. 

   “Are you aware of how to pronounce the word for passing gas in German?”

   Holly slides her hands off of her face. She looks up in thought.

   Pan chuckles. She watches the word roll from his lips, sharp with his accent.

   “Farfrompoopin.”

   It takes her a second.

   “That’s so dumb!” Holly squawks. “That’s so dumb, oh, my god! I’ll do you one better, though. Do you know why people don’t take their phones to the bathroom?”

   Pan purses his lips. He shakes his head. 

   “It’s cause they don’t want to give away their IP address.”

   Pan giggles like a little boy. He covers his mouth with his hand. 

   Holly smiles from ear to ear. She giggles with him. 

   Silence settles between them.

   A Digi-beetle wanders into one of the fissures forking from Pan’s boot.

   Holly tiptoes closer. As if she were reaching into the birth of a star, she inches her hand past the lip of the jet engine in Pan’s chest. A lump forms in her throat. She touches one of the many idle fan blades. They slowly begin to rotate. 

   His engine core, just out of arms reach, blooms with light. It paints her in a furnaces fiery glow. And it's almost painful, tongues of flames nearly licking her cheeks. But she doesn't mind. Their dry heat pushes the tears beginning to trickle down her face towards her hair line. They evaporate into wisps. She pulls her hand out so it doesn't get burned. But she continues to stare past the carousel of fan blades and at his brightening core.

   “I was scared I wasn’t gonna get to see you again.”

   “Oh, kleiner gefallener Stern,” Pan coos. “We couldn’t have that, now could we?”

   “What got you to change your mind?”

   “Researching database. Answer: Inconclusive.” 

   “Maybe you thought about that dream you had?”

   Pan combs two fingers through Holly’s hair. “I thought of you.”

   Holly looks up at Pan’s face. But all she sees is light, her retina imprinted with the heart of his engine core. 

   “kleiner gefallener Stern. English translation: Little fallen star. You crashed into my life, as you so eloquently put, like a freakin’ meteor. And thus I came to the conclusion you were worth making every mistake for.”

Chapter six: Echo Responds to the Call

   Wind rushes through Holly’s hair like she’s driving a convertible and going a hundred miles per hour.

   She thinks they’re going faster than that.

   “This is the freakin’ coolest!” Holly shouts over the wind to Pan. “How high up are we?”

   “We are currently cruising at the comfortable altitude of four thousand feet! How are your ears faring?”

   “What?”

   Pan stifles a chuckle. 

   They zip through a cloud. It pulls with them when they come out the other side, smearing fluffy contrails across the bright blue sky.   

   Holly smiles, enjoying the mist dotting her face. 

   Pan shakes his head, and scowls. Holly giggles. She cleans the beads of condensation off of his visor with a swipe of the back of her hand, her glove soaking up the moisture. 

   “Ah! Danke, liebling! You are far too kind!”

   “What?”

   Another chuckle. Avoiding the next cloud, Pan dips with a spiral under it.

   As a result, and with one arm under her legs while the other supports her back, Pan adjusts his hold on Holly. She bounces around just enough for her legs to trick her into thinking she’s going to fall. Her heart leaps into her throat. 

   Holly tightens the lacing of her arms around his neck. 

   Satisfaction puts a smile on Pan’s face. 

   They continue to shoot across the sky, jetfire blazing from Pan’s boots and back. She didn’t notice it earlier when he scared Chuumon and Mini Scumon off, but she thinks it’s awesome he’s got a turbofan engine he can pop out from between his shoulder blades at his command. 

   He’s got a few other abilities she didn’t know about. Kinda makes her wonder how many tricks he has up his sleeve. 

   It also brings into question: How different are Digimon from the card game? Or the video game, for that matter?

   On that note, before they set their eyes on the sky, they were tasked with picking up all of Holly’s things that Chuumon and Mini Scumon dumped out over the desert. That’s when she learned about the electromagnet in each of his palms. All Pan had to do was hold a hand up, activate one with a thought, and her stuff came rushing at him. It was like watching shards of glass get blown up in reverse. 

   Nuts, bolts, the foil DB logo on every Digi-battle card, the metal clasps on her bag, everything sucked into his palm.

   Everything.

   Even her hard candies.

   That was disturbing. 

   While Holly put her stuff away, Pan scanned one of them and said he picked up on some trace elements of lead.

   Not gonna lie, that’s probably why they were so cheap.

   Worst still to come, she wanted to crawl under a rock and freakin’ die when Pan saw that blown fuse and screw she lifted from his control panel. She was really hoping he wouldn’t recognize them, but when he did, he grinned at her like a cartoon villain. 

   Fortunately for her, she was able to dodge further embarrassment by changing the subject. She asked Pan how far she made it without him. Whereupon Pan winced, and explained she had been thrown off her course, and had begun heading West quite some time ago. 

   They came to the conclusion it must have been Chuumon and Mini Scumon throwing off her sense of direction.

   Jerks. 

   Holly huffed a sigh. She let out a chuckle of frustration, tilted her head back, and covered her face. 

   A groan that bled into a whimper followed.

   She was hot. Dirty. Her clothes were drenched with sweat, and the sun baking down on them made her feel like she was wearing a trash bag in a sauna. Hunger clawed at her belly. It felt like it was trying to eat itself from the inside out.   

   That’s when Pan knelt down. He swept the hair out of her face with two fingers. Holly pouted her bottom lip as a result, the vulnerability within her mounting. 

   Pan chuckled, and his voice melted into a coo. He said, “Oh, kleiner gefallener Stern. We can’t have you making that face, now can we? Come. I have you now. It’s quite alright. There’s no need for that.”

   With his back to the sun, a welcoming haze of light lit up all of Pan’s edges.

   He smiled at her. Softly. A breeze swept his coat back. 

   Holly rubbed at her eyes, and sniffled. She didn’t want him to see her crying again.  

   “Do you happen to recall the legend I spoke of?”

   She nodded.

   “Given recent events, perhaps this is our chance to forge our own. We are, as they say, in this together now. There is no turning back.”

   “Don’t say that. Don’t say that unless you really mean it. Cause it’s messed up if you don’t.”

   Pan scooped Holly up into his arms, as carefully as one would lift a china doll out of the rubble. He rose to his feet. 

   “Well, fraulein. Perhaps we should allow for our actions to continue to speak for us, hm?”

   His engines roared to life. Their idle vibrations made the desert sand jump. Pan bent at his knees, and grinned. His engines hummed louder. Holly could feel their power in her bones.

   “..Wait. Wait, wait a minute. What are you doing—WAIT, no, no, no, no, nonono—!”

   Pan shot into the sky like the lid that got blown off of reactor four at Chernobyl. A rippled boom followed, denting the ground. 

   Holly screamed. 

   And Pan laughed.

   They were laughing together soon enough. 

   Sunlight speckles through the trees in city park. A gust of wind rustles their leaves, and a pair of birds clap their wings away. There’s a couple walking hand in hand down the crosswalk. 

   Takato races up the stairs leading to Guilmon, his backpack bouncing. A bread roll falls out. It tumbles down the stairs. 

   “Hey boy,” He’s out of breath when he reaches the top. “I didn’t mean to be so late, it’s just my Mom and-- Oh. Uhh,”

   Takato spots Henry first, seated with his back against the wall of the concrete hideout. 

   Terriermon blankets Guilmon’s eyes with his floppy ears. “Guess who!”

   “Takato-mon!”

   Takato rubs the back of his neck. “Heyyy guys! I, uh, wasn't expecting a full house.”

   “I probably should have called,” Henry stands up, and dusts his knees. “Sorry about that.”

   “No he’s not,” Terriermon giggles. “He’s just saying that.”

   “Terriermon.”

   “Sheesh,” Terriermon frowns at Henry. “I was just kidding.”

   Guilmon plods over to Takato. He sniffs his backpack. “Are those for me, Takato-mon?”

   “Yeah, buddy. Just a sec.”

    Slinging his backpack forward, Takato sets it on the ground, and zips it open. He reveals a tray's worth of bread rolls crammed inside. They glisten with butter. 

   “Come to think of it, I probably should have packed extra,” He pats Guilmon on the back. In return, Guilmon nudges his snout under Takato’s chin with an affectionate rumble. 

   “It’s okay, Takato-mon. I can share.”

   Guilmon breaks a bread roll. Steam pours from the fluffy center. Pinched between his talons, he reaches it up to Terriermon, still seated on his head.

   Terriermon’s ears flutter when he takes a bite.

   “Would you like one?” Guilmon asks Henry. 

   “No, but thanks anyways.”

   A pause.

   Henry gives Terriermon an expectant look. 

   “Momentai, Henry! Besides, Guilmon is my friend. The thanks is implied.”

   Henry sighs. He shakes his head, and gestures with his chin outside. “Maybe we should take this out there?”

   “Yeah. Good idea,” Takato follows Henry out and into the park. They take a seat on a bench shaded by trees. A horned shadow hops in through the canopy. The leaves rustle, and one of the branches wobbles. The couple from earlier, still hand in hand, walks by. They wait for them to pass.

   “How have you been holding up lately?”

   “Not too bad, actually,” Takato offers up a nervous laugh. “All things considered. I just wish I didn’t have to keep Guilmon all cooped up.”

   “I hear you on that. Poor guy. You’ve been doing great with him, though. I just wish I could get Terriermon to be as considerate.”

   “At least he’s authentic?”

   Henry smiles. “True. You’re right about that one.”

   “So, what brings you by? Not that I don’t mind the company. It’s just, you’ve kinda got a habit of showing up when things are about to get bad. And I’ve got a bad feeling things are probably about to get bad.”

   “Am I really so thinly veiled?” Henry tilts his head back, and gazes up into the tree. Freckles of light dot his cheeks. “I just don’t know what to do about these Deva. Each one feels stronger than the last.”

   “Tell me about it. But, you know,” Takato winces into a pause. “You’re going to have to let him fight sooner or later.”

   “No. I don’t want to lose him.”

   “Yeah, well, I don’t want to lose Guilmon either. But we’re going to lose a lot more than them if we don’t do something.”

   “You’re beginning to sound like my Sensei.”

   “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

   Henry smiles. “It was.”

   Silence.

   The leaves above rustle. 

   Henry and Takato exchange a glance when they hear snickering.

   “Awwww. Aren’t yous twos so cute. Couple of lovebirds. Makes me wanna puke.”

   “Oh, uh,” Takato fakes a smile. “Heyyy there, Impmon. How’s it going?”

   Relaxed on the tree branch like a french model to be painted, Impmon’s tail gives a flick. He grins down at them. “Oh, ya know. Same old, same old. Gotta keep yous humans on your toes, what with all these big bad Digimon running amuck.”

   Henry studies Impmon. “Do you know anything about what’s been going on?”

   “Eh? Me? Not a clue. And like I’d tell the likes of yous, anyways. Let me return a question of my own, though. Yous two knuckleheads seen the redheaded menace?”

   “The redheaded… menace?” Henry looks at Takato, and Takato shakes his head. 

   “Yeah, ya know. Freckle face? The klutz with the green bag? A pair of yous nincompoops call her Mecha Moron. Seen her around, lately?”

   “Wait, do you mean Holly?” Takato asks.

   “Yeah! Her. Whatsername. I was, uh,” Impmon looks away from them. “Just wantin’ to check up on her. Haven’t seen her in awhile, is all.”

   “Now that you mention it? I haven’t seen her in class,” Takato frowns. “I hope she’s okay.”

   “She’s been gone for three days,” Henry notes.

   “Wait, seriously? It’s been three days?”

   “Yeah. Tomorrow marks the fourth. If she’s not back by the end of the week, I’m going to ask Mr. Bellevue if I can start picking up her homework for her.”

   “Well that’s nice of you,” Takato looks Henry up and down. “Any particular reason, or…?”

   Henry shrugs a shoulder, and smiles. “We both want to go to MIT. And it’d be nice to see a familiar face.”

    “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Enough with it, will yous?” Impmon rolls his eyes. “For cryin’ out loud, it’s not like I was asking for an essay on why the kids been out. I’ve just about had enough of that mushy, sentimental crap.”

   “Why do you care?” Henry snaps. “I thought you hated humans?”

   “I do hate the lot of yous. And don’t forget it.”

   “You know, I thought I heard Impmon? But then I told myself, there’s no way that’s Impmon. Impmon wouldn’t be dumb enough to show his ugly mug around here again,” Terriermon hops across the sidewalk, and bounces into Henry’s lap. “But would you take a look at what the cat dragged in.”

   Having followed Terriermon, Guilmon rests his head in Takato’s lap. He bares his fangs, eyes fixed on Impmon. 

   “I don’t like him, Takato-mon.”

   “It’s okay, boy,” Takato strokes Guilmon’s head. “Don’t worry about him. He was just asking about a friend.”

   “A friend?”

   “Yeah. You uh,” Takato leans down to Guilmon and whispers, “You met her a while back.”

   Guilmon’s ears perk up. “Holly-mon?”

   “Takato,” Henry leers his eyes. “Does she know about Guilmon?”

   “Um,” A pause. “No?”

   Terriermon giggles. “He’s lying.”

   “Takato-mon. Lying is bad. You shouldn’t lie to your friends.”

   Takato mumbles, “It wasn’t a lie. It was a secret.”

   “Holly-mon and I have a secret.”

   Henry frowns at Takato. Terriermon covers his mouth, and giggles. Impmon flops onto his back, snaps a twig free, and fiddles with it. 

   Takato tucks his head down, and winces. 

   “Heyyy, buddy? What kind of secret is it?”

   “Silly Takato-mon. I can’t tell you. It’s a secret.”

   “This one you can tell me, I promise. You won’t get into any trouble.”

   Guilmon’s ears fold down. After a moment of contemplation, he lifts his head up to Takato’s and whispers, “She brings me Peanut M&M’s.”

   “Now there’s a big fat fib if I ever did hear one,” Impmon points his twig at Guilmon. 

   “Wait, how did you even hear him?” Takato looks up at Impmon.

   “Yous think these ears are just for looks? Heh. Bet your pal Terriermon heard him, too. His ears are so big, he could probably pick up on a mouse fart from a mile away!”

   Terriermon crosses his arms, and huffs. 

   “I’m not lying,” Guilmon pouts. “Lying is bad.”

   “You’re a good for nothin’, dirty little liar,” Impmon swings his twig around like a band conductor. “What’s that jingle yous humans like to sing? Liar, liar, pants on fire? Heh, yeah! Liar, liar, pants on fire, hangin' from a telephone wire.”

   Guilmon snorts at that, and plods away. 

   Takato shakes his head at Impmon.”Why are you so mean? What did he ever do to you?”

   “Come on, Takato,” Henry stands up, and Terriermon perches on his head. “We don’t have to put up with this. Let’s talk somewhere else.”

   “Let’s talk somewhere else,” Impmon mocks. “What? Buncha babies can’t handle a joke?”

   Henry scoffs. “You just don’t know when to give up, do you?” 

   “That’s part of the charm, kid. Can’t handle the heat? Then stay out of the kitchen! Badaboom! Hahaha!”

   “Bet you couldn’t even turn the stove on,” Terriermon remarks. 

   “And what the Hell is that supposed to mean?”

   A laugh catches in Takato’s throat. Henry shakes his head, smiles, and points down the sidewalk. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

   Takato whistles for Guilmon. “Guilmon! Come on, boy!”

   A few moments later, Guilmon trots up to them, his arms crossed over his chest. Dirt cakes his snout, claws, and belly. When he opens his arms, several yellow and flimy Peanut M&M wrappers flutter to the ground.

   “See? I told you. I didn’t lie.”

   Impmon sneers. 

   Digging a hand into his handkerchief, he yanks out a bag of Peanut M&M’s, and throws them at the ground. They slap against the concrete. 

   “Fine! If ya like em’ so much, yous can have those! I didn’t even want them to begin with!”

   Impmon jumps from tree to tree until he disappears from sight.

   A pair of birds dance and sing in the sky. They land on the top bar of a swing set, hop next to each other, and cuddle. 

   Silence. 

   Guilmon sniffs the bag of Peanut M&M’s, and whimpers. 

   “I’m not the only one weirded out by what just happened, am I?” Terriermon asks. 

   “No. That was odd. Even for Impmon,” Henry looks at Takato. “Do you know what his deal is?”

   “Not a clue. But you know that saying, about how misery loves company? I think he’s looking for that, and upset he’s not finding it in us.”

   “We can’t deal with whatever he’s got going on. Not on top of everything else. As it stands, we have enough on our plate as it is,” Henry starts walking down the sidewalk. “Some problems have to take care of themselves. Come on. Let’s go.”   

   Having taken to resting her head on the domed pauldron of Pan’s shoulder, her cheek squished against the label reading: Extreme Heat, Holly reaches a hand up and sifts her fingers through a cloud they’re passing under.

   She smiles.

   The mist is thick, like ocean spray. She can feel it through her glove. It reminds her of the soft water her Grandpa and Grandma had.

   Pan’s chest engine stalls with a clunk.

   He coughs, and his grip on Holly tightens.

   Black smoke billows from the corners of Pan’s lips. 

   “Holy crap!” Holly exclaims. “You’re smoking! Like, you’re actually smoking! Are you okay?!”

   More coughing. “Blast it all— Forgive me, liebling. I’ve never taken to flight for this long before. We must land.”

   They’re approaching something off in the distance, and coming up on it fast. Holly squints her eyes. From what she can tell, it looks like an abandoned train yard. There’s a railroad station at the center. The rust glints in the sun. Beside it rests an old steam train. Forming a cross in pattern, there are railways leading out into the sand from the North, South, East and West.

   Holly points towards the train yard, keeping one arm secure around Pan’s neck. “Can you get us as close to there as possible?”

   “I will certainly try.”

   Wafts of black smoke trail behind Pan until his boots skid across the ground. 

   Lining his calf muscles and forearms, six ports open and push out curved exhaust pipes designed for venting heat. Pan sets Holly down before the pipes burst with pressurized steam. He collapses to a knee during the process, and coughs up more smoke.

   Pan’s steam blows sand off of a buried train track leading to nowhere. 

   Holly coughs with him, and waves her hand in front of her face. The smoke is thick. It’s clinging to the back of her throat. The fumes of hot asphalt, and a car that’s been sitting in a garage and running stings her nostrils. 

   With a furrow to her brow, Holly watches the fan blades in Pan’s chest engine stutter. 

   She knows that smell.

   “Hey!” Holly yells over the clamor. “Where’s your dipstick? You got one of those?”

   Fist up to his mouth as he coughs, Pan sweeps his coat back and reveals an undercover bowed with the curve in his waist. When Holly gets close enough, she can see four twist release clips, which means she won’t need any tools for removing it. 

   But she can’t get in there just yet. 

   “We’ve got to let you cool down a bit. Do you know what kind of oil you like?”

   “As if I would take anything less,” Pan coughs into a fit. “Anything less than the finest.”

   Holly wrinkles her nose at him. There’s sweat pouring down her face. “Hey! Don’t get sassy with me?! Not when it looks like you haven’t had an oil change since before the dawn of freakin’ time!”

   Pan frowns.

   “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Now, come on,” Holly wipes her forehead, and looks towards the train station. “Let’s get you in there, and see if I can't make my old man proud.”

Chapter seven: The Nowhere Train Conductor

   The steam train docked beside the railroad station has been scratched up from sandstorms whipping across the desert. Holly smears a finger against the crankshaft. It’s dusty, too. Yet it still glints under the sun like a shiny black beetle. 

   A thought crosses her mind while she gazes upon it, one about how learning your way around an engine is a lot like baking a casserole. Sure, there are a bunch of different types of them. But if you know how to bake one, you know how to bake them all. 

   Holly can’t bake to save her life. Or cook, for that matter.

   But she doesn’t think there’s an engine that’s been made that she can’t pick apart. 

   With a grunt, Holly hoists herself up, climbs the spokes, and finds a lip she can stand on. Walking with her back to the train as if she were on the edge of a cliff, she makes her way towards the manhole on the boiler. She spits on her hands, rubs them together, and grabs the wheel on the hatch. 

   “What are you doing?”

   Holly yips. 

   She’s got her heart in her throat while she searches for the voice she just heard. 

   It was curious, soft, and like a young boy with a stuffy nose. 

   “Oh, goodness me, did I scare you?”

   “Yeah, only a little,” Holly laughs nervously. “Where are you?”

   “I’m up here.”

   Holly looks up. She scans the top of the train, squinting her eyes. 

   “Yoohoo. Over here.”

   A Digimon waves at Holly from beside the train’s chimney. He’s a pink and gelatinous blob no larger than two basketballs stacked on top of each other. A pair of black eyes and an adorable W for a mouth form the Digimon’s face. Globby arms drip from his sides. There are a trio of tiny claws sprouting from the nubs in place of hands. Last but not least, instead of legs, the Digimon has a series of bumps circling the underside of his body. They remind Holly of octopus tentacles, if an octopus had its tentacles chopped off and was left with nothing but stubs. 

   Holly smiles. 

   He’s a Motimon!

   “Howdy,” Motimon smiles back. “Why are you trying to get into my train?”

   “Wait, this is your train?”

   “Yup. Who else do you think it belonged to?”

   “I didn’t think it belonged to anyone. Sorta thought it had just been left here.”

   “Interesting. Very interesting. Why are you trying to get into it?”

   “I need the filter for something.”

   “Steam trains don’t have filters. Their water troughs take the place of those.”

   “You sure about that?”

   “Of course I’m sure. This is my train.”

   Holly’s chest tightens. She looks down at her hands, her fingers stained in oil.

   After she made it inside the train station with Pan, his cough deepened. He laid down on an empty track, and Holly got to work, popping off his undercover and pulling out his dipstick to check on his oil. It was stubborn. She had to yank on it like she was trying to start a lawn mower. 

   When she finally got it out, she was greeted with sludge. 

   She found his drain plugs flanking the small of his back. While unscrewing the caps, realization struck her like a brick. Pan’s drain plugs were in line with the anatomy of a set of kidneys. 

   She drained his oil. It came out in viscous globs, like black jellied blood clots. 

   Holly cleaned him up the best she could, using all the shop rags she had, and her gloves.

   Pan’s breathing was shallow. He couldn’t talk. Holly’s world fell at her feet when his visor flipped to Offline.

   That’s when she set her eyes on the steam train.

   “What do you need a filter for?”

   Holly curls her fingers into fists. 

   “Someone I care about needs one. And needs one real bad.”

   “Oh, yes. And he needs some petrol, too.”

   Holly gawks at Motimon. “How..?”

   “He’s on one of my tracks. Number seven.”

   “Your tracks? Wait, do you work here?”

   “You could say that. You could also say I’m the train conductor of this railroad station.”

   Holly looks out into the desert. “Do trains even come through here?”

   “No. No, they don’t,” Motimon slumps. “I’ve never seen a train, other than mine here. But I’m ready for when they arrive! I even have a hat.”

   “What do you mean you’re ready for when they arrive? Do you help with maintenance?”

   “Yup. I’m prepared to help with refueling, repairing, and exchanging cargo. I’m also proud to announce I can provide any and all passengers with a variety of snacks.”

   Holly’s stomach growls like a banshee gargling water. She ignores it. 

   “You have oil, don’t you? And filters,” She points at the station. “In there?”

   “Yup.”

   “I’ll do anything for it. Whatever you want.”

   “Hmm. Interesting. Very interesting. Anything I want?”

   “Seriously. Anything you want. I’ll even shave my head and walk on my hands backwards.”

   “Will you be my friend?”

   The weight on her shoulders eases.

   Motimon smiles down at her. “Is this acceptable?”

   “Yeah,” Holly smiles back. “I said anything you wanted.”  

   Seated back to back at Hypnos headquarters, Riley and Megumi’s fingers punch at their keyboards. A faint blue glow touches their lab coats. The hologram above them, projecting a domed map of the city, ticks with calculations.

   A white icon bordered in red blinks onto the screen. 

   “We’ve got another one.”

   “It’s coming from outside the city, and heading in fast,” Megumi says. “This one is stronger than the last. I haven’t seen anything like it.”

   Yamaki clicks his lighter from a dark corner of the room. “They just never know when to give up, do they? Riley. Activate Juggernaut at my command. I want that thing out of my city.”

   “But, sir—”

   “Last week one of those monsters cleared Downtown in under five minutes. It seems luck was on our side, as no casualties have been reported,” Yamaki flips his lighter closed. “Yet. Search and rescue teams are still on the lookout for survivors. Do you want to be held responsible for gambling with their lives?”

   “I don’t think this is right.”

   “That doesn’t answer my question.”

   A red alarm bathes the room. 

   Megumi zooms in on the fast approaching icon, and it transforms into the silhouette of a cobra with a turtle shell for a hood.

   “It’s getting ready to biomerge,” Megumi says. 

   “Riley. We’re running out of time.”

   “I don’t want to do it.”

   “I didn’t ask what you wanted. I gave you an order. No more fooling around; Activate Juggernaut. Do it now.”

   “Does the screaming not bother you?”

   Yamaki scoffs. “It’s just data. Now get rid of it.”

   “Activating Juggernaut,” Riley closes her eyes. “In three, two, one--”

   A scream tears through the room. Headquarters rumbles, and the hologram above them pinches closed. Riley and Megumi grip the arms of their chairs. 

   The scream carries on, howling like a chorus of animals trapped in a shrinking cage. 

   “What’s going on,” Yamaki raises his voice. “Is that the wild one?”

   Pink flashes of light pulse from the ceiling. The screaming grows louder. 

   Error codes fly across Riley’s screen. They’re scrolling down faster than she can read them. But she tries anyway.

   Three words highlight themselves. As fast as they came, they went. 

   Riley shakes her head, and pulls away from the screen. 

   The screaming fades to a sob, an unintelligible whisper, and then, silence. 

   “Did we get it?” Yamaki asks. 

   “No, sir,” Megumi answers. “It got away.”

   “Damn it.”

   “Please, help me,” Riley says. “I think it said: Please, help me.”

   “Now’s not the time to feel sympathy for that thing. It got away because you failed to do your job.”

   “That screaming. It wasn’t the wild one,” Riley looks down at Yamaki. “I think it was Juggernaut.”

   Motimon toddles through the train station, and Holly follows closely behind. The inside reminds her of the tram for the subway back home. That is, if the tram for the subway back home were abandoned. 

   All of the shops lining the walls, tourist traps and restaurants, are empty. 

   The kiosks dotting the main hall would give the dresser in Holly’s spare room a run for its money. They’re filthy with dust.

   They pass one selling an assortment of toy cars, airplanes, and robots. When Holly notices one of the toys face down on the ground, a robot with a laser gun, she picks it up. She wipes it off before placing it back on the shelf. 

   “Are you still with me?”

   “Yeah,” Holly hollers to Motimon. She jogs over to him, and they turn down another hallway.

   Motimon pushes a door open named: Personnel only. 

   Holly steps inside with him.

   There are lockers on the left side of the room, and uniforms consisting of a pair of overalls, boots, and a black shirt on the right. 

   Holly points at one of the uniforms. “Do you mind?”

   “I insist.”

   Forsaking the shirt and boots, Holly wiggles into a pair of overalls. It’s mustard yellow, and the right clasp doesn’t work. 

   Upon notice of a train hat and a pair of gloves on the desk, she asks, “Is that the hat you were talking about?”

   “In fact it is,” Motimon wiggles onto the office chair and uses it to hop onto the desk. He puts it on. 

   Holly tries not to giggle.

   It’s too big for him.

   Motimon sighs. He takes off the hat, holds it against his chest, and looks away from Holly. “It’s standard size.”

   “Y’know, I’d wager it’s not the hat that matters. It’s the person beneath it that counts.”

   Motimon hugs his hat. “I suspect one day, when the trains do come, they’ll have my size in stock.”

   A frown pulls at Holly’s lips. She doesn’t allow it to come to pass. 

   She smiles as reassuringly as she can. 

   Motimon fiddles with his hat a bit more, before setting it back down on the desk. He picks up the gloves. “You will be needing these.”

   “Are you sure?” Holly looks around the room. “I can probably find another pair-”

   “Yes. You may find another pair. But I want you to have these. Is this acceptable?”

   Overwhelming fondness swells Holly’s heart. She accepts the gloves. “Thanks. I really mean that. I’d seriously be lost without you right now. I don’t know how I’ll ever pay you back.”

   “You don’t have to pay me back. We are friends.”

   She doesn’t know what to say.

   Holly puts on the gloves, a blush coloring her cheeks. She feels like a kid that just got asked over to a friend’s house for the first time. 

   Insecurity draws Holly’s shoulders together.

   She doesn’t remember the last time anyone invited her over. She’s usually the one to invite herself.

    “What’s she doing here?”

    Holly chases that demon away with a tug of adjustment at her new gloves. She sweeps her hair back and says, “I don’t know what size filter he needs. I’m not kiddin' you when I say I was going to rip one out of that train and improvise.”

   Motimon hops off the desk, and slides open one of the drawers. He retrieves a set of keys. “And you would have been sorely disappointed. Your friend requires a Phoenix guard.”

   Holly follows Motimon out of the room, down the hallway, and towards a wide set of swinging double doors.

   “A Phoenix guard? ”

   “Yup. That is what I said.”

   “No, I mean, what is a Phoenix guard?”

   “A filter.”

   “...Okay. But what kind of filter?”

   “The one your friend needs.”

   They push through the double doors and enter a back room akin to a warehouse storage site for auto parts. In a stark contrast to Holly’s garage, all the shelves are organized neatly. 

   They pass a wall outfitted with gasoline pumps and black hoses with nozzles. Holly breathes in the fumes as they walk by. 

   “I get that. But how is it different from a regular filter? For argument's sake, let’s say your train had what I needed. What would make it different from a Phoenix guard?”

   “Oh, goodness me. I understand your question now,” Motimon toddles towards a safe slotted into the wall. While he enters the code and searches for the correct key, he says, “I never expected a human to be so naive.”

   “Heyyy. What’s that supposed to mean?” A pause. “Wait, how do you know I’m human?”

   “You are organic. It is the only logical conclusion.”

   Motimon’s keys jingle as he fits one into the lock on the safe. As soon as the door swings open, Holly’s greeted with sunlight radiating from the inside.

   “I only have one in stock as they are not easy to come by. And to answer your question, a Phoenix guard is made from the Digimon Sovereign. That is what separates it from your typical filter. Your friend must take better care of himself.”

   “Yeah,” Holly rubs the back of her neck. “I’ll see to that from here on out.”

   “And you too, for that matter.”

   “Huh?”

   Motimon pulls out a tube, the ribbed lines of the filter wrapped around it and glowing. He closes the safe. Toddling up to Holly, he reaches for her bag and slides the Phoenix guard inside.

   Holly tries to take a peek at it.

   “You have failed to eat today,” Motimon tugs the flap on her bag down. “None of that for you. Come with me. I’ve always wanted to give someone snacks.”

   A weathered sign framing the entrance to a junkyard sways. It creaks with a passing breeze.

   Chuumon pops his head out of a pile of trash, sitting on top of a mountain of trash. 

   “Nyeh! Hey, Mini Scumon,” Chuumon holds his hand up high, and something glints. “Lookie here. I might have found us a goody.”

   Mini Scumon hops over the head of a control rod wedged into the trash. He floats over to Chuumon and asks, “What do you suppose that stuff there is?”

   “I dunno.”

   Mini Scumon studies the glass and scraps of black plastic sitting in Chuumon’s palm. 

   “Think we could turn it in for some moolah?”

   “Let’s find the Andromon working here, and see what he has to say.”

   “I’m beginning to like the way you think.”

   “Eeyup.”

   Chuumon and Mini Scumon slide down the trash heap. 

   The sign above the junkyard sways. It catches the sunlight, and the faded text reads:

Desert Waste Management | Section Four: Nuclear Power Plant.

Chapter eight: Son of Suns

   Bouncing up to the Andromon designated over section four of the desert’s waste management, Mini Scumon and Chuumon bumble over each other. 

   Chuumon holds up the scraps of black plastic and glass to Andromon, a fat grin split across his face. 

   “Look what we found! Look what we found! Go on, give it a scan! Nyeh!”

   Mini Scumon and Chuumon giggle together like a pair of scheming old hags.

   Andromon scans Holly’s broken cell phone. “Scanning complete. Warning. Anomaly detected. Seeking corrective measures for an appropriate response. Warning. Further clearance required. Please wait.”

   “That don’t sound too good,” Mini Scumon says.

   “Nyeh! This is crap!”

   Mini Scumon frowns.

   “You know what I mean,” Chumon scoffs. “Nyeh! Hey, Andromon! Does this mean we ain’t gonna get paid?”

   Andromon’s eyes flash blue and red. 

   “Receiving incoming transmission: Debris are to be delivered to Machinedramon immediately. Broadcasting coordinates.”

   “That really don’t sound good.”

   “Nyeh! This really is crap!”

   Once she finished the snacks Motimon offered her, which consisted of more sugar free chocolate pudding than an entire hospital ward, stale popcorn, and an oddly satisfying ham sandwich, Holly shot off towards Pan.

   Forty five minutes into performing impromptu mechanical surgery, she gestured towards Motimon and asked if he had any spare tools. 

   “I’m very fond of my tools.”

   “Look, I promise I won’t mess em’ up or anything. Trust me. I know what I’m doing. Kind of.”

   “How do I know I can trust you with them?”

   “Dude, I probably know more about them than you─ and hey, I thought we were friends. Friends help each other, yeah?”

   “This is true. But I’m very fond of my tools. Especially my wrench. That one is my favorite.”

   “You know what? Here, I’ll make you a deal,” Holly dug out her Gameboy and offered it to Motimon. “This is super valuable to me. How about I let you borrow that while you let me use your tools?”

   Motimon accepted the Gameboy. “What is this device?”

   “Flip the button up on the side. You’ll see.”

   The startup music of Galaga: Unleashed began to play. Motimon smiled.

   “This is acceptable.”

   That was three hours ago. 

   Holly has oil up to her elbows and her face is filthy. She’s sweating profusely, like one of those crazy track and field guys who wear trash bags when they run to shed excess weight. 

   Holly spits the grit out of her mouth, grabs a handful of zip ties, and continues with her task.

 With the experience she has under her belt, it’s worth mentioning that some cars you can just get in there and do as you will with them. Honda. Subaru. Volkswagen. Old reliables. The kind with 200k or more mileage and show no signs of slowing down.

   And then there’s Ford.

   In any case, there’s a final breed. The stuff rich folks parade around in. Audi. Mercedes. Porsche. They require specialty parts and more often than not they can’t be taken to a mechanic; They have to be driven to a dealership for maintenance. 

   Pan’s a Porsche. One that looks great on the outside, but has seen better days on the inside.

   He’s also a Digimon. And an Android. 

   Holly barely knows what she’s dealing with. She doesn’t know what wires go where, if they’re filled with transmission fluid or blood, or if one of those tubes flowing with lava channeled through him are going to rupture and kill her. 

   Therefore she’s been methodical about her work, sweeping wires to the side and gently bundling them together with zip ties in order to find what she’s looking for. Or, at least, what she thinks she’s looking for.

   Most filter housings look like a black plastic box and you’ll find them near the battery. They’re fortunately not difficult to remove, usually only sporting a few clips and screws. The problem right now, however, is that she can’t find Pan’s battery. She doesn’t know where to look. Or if he even has one.

   With her head and one arm inside of Pan, and the other braced against him on the outside for support, Holly breathes out a cold puff of air and shivers.

   “What the Hell,” She mutters to herself. 

   Holly pops her head out and looks at the sun. 

   The sky is overcast.

   A snowflake touches her overalls and melts. 

   She gawks at Motimon. “It’s snowing? In the Desert?”

   “Yup.”

   “And you don’t think that’s weird?”

   “Why would I?”

   “Trust me. It’s freakin’ weird.”

   “Interesting. Very interesting. I suppose I’ll have to take your word on it,” Motimon looks up from Holly’s Gameboy. “You will want to hurry. A blizzard is coming soon.”

   “Are you serious?”

   “Yup. I need to go and close down the station. Don’t worry, I’ll be back. Should I bring you a coat?”

   “Son of a─ Yeah. Yeah, go ahead and grab me one. Thanks.”

   Motimon toddles away, playing Holly’s Gameboy and disappearing into the snow. 

   Holly’s nose drips. She wipes it with her arm, smears grease across her face, and squeezes her way back into Pan. With fresh eyes she takes notice of a black cylinder in the top right of her field of vision, welded to the side of the turbine within Pan’s chest. Holly wiggles her screwdriver under the lip of the cap shaped lid. It pops off and the soiled filter inside flickers like a Christmas light. 

   Holly sighs with relief. Wrestling the old one out, she gives it a look of disgust before flinging it outside. Then she retrieves the new one, her fingers numb from the cold as she slides it into place. 

   A soft click signals to her that it’s in, followed by a flash of burning gold. 

   Holly winces at the brightness.

   With her task seemingly finished, she moves on to her next project of carefully removing the zip ties she used to secure Pan’s wires up and out of her way. 

   “It’s like a jungle in here,” She whispers to herself.

   Pan’s chest engine sputters with life after fifteen minutes and Holly almost cuts through one of his wires with her pliers. 

   Flowing lazily up until this point, the lava inside of him begins to bubble and churn.

   Pan grunts. Holly’s heart starts working overtime at the grinding clicks of his gears shifting as he wakes up. 

   “Wait! Wait, wait, wait! Whoa there, I’m still in here!”

   "Liebling?! Why─"

   “Listen! Don’t move, kay? I’ve only got three of these─ actually, make that two─” A pause. Snip. “One more to go.”

   After cutting the last bundle of wires free, Holly brushes them back into place and wriggles herself out. 

   Pan sits up and clunks like an old car that hasn’t started in fifty years. He touches the opening on the side of his chest that Holly had been working in, pulls his hand away, and observes his palm.

   Holly’s reminded of a soldier examining his own bullet wound while in the throes of shell shock.

   Holding one of the large bolts in her mouth like a cigar, and with the other three tucked into the chest pocket of her overalls, Holly retrieves the panel sticking out from the snow. She gestures for Pan to move his hand and screws it back into place. 

   The entire time she worked Pan ogled her, his visor text rippling with: Please Standby. 

   “How long have you been at this?” He asks.

   Holly peels off her oil and grime drenched gloves, drops them into the snow, and lifts up a black gallon can. “We’re not done just yet. I had to drain your oil while you were out, which we kinda need to talk about that. You’ve gotta take better care of yourself. But, here. I know this ain’t nearly enough, but I figured some was better than none. Where do you take it? Same spot?”

   “Be a dear and give her here.”

   Holly hands Pan the can of oil. He pops the lid off with his thumb and throws it down his neck like a frat boy chugging vodka. 

    “Straight from the tap. Wow. You go, big guy.”

   Pan exhales once he’s finished, his breath steaming against the air. “Potent. And fully synthetic. Oh, how you spoil me. Does there happen to be more?”

   “Yeah, back in the station,” Holly rubs her arms, shivering. “How are you feeling?”

   “I’m ashamed to admit I feel rather sluggish. My thoughts are struggling to stick, as it were.”

   “That sounds about right. You’ve been out half the day.”

   “Half the day, you say? Oh, liebling, I am so very sorry to have put you through so much trouble. Least of all on my behalf.”

   “Like I said, don’t sweat it. We’re in this together, yeah?”

   Pan perks up at that, a smile warming his face. His visor flips to: Online.

   Holly returns a smile of her own and braces her back against the wind whipping at her hair. 

   Pan’s smile recedes. A cone of digital light spreads out from his visor and scans over Holly. 

   “Scanning complete. Warning. Biological anomaly detected. Body temperature decreasing. Warning. Hypothermia stage one is estimated to occur within the next two to three hours. Seek shelter immediately,” The fan blades within Pan’s chest engine kick on. He curls a hand around Holly to shield her from the wind and hisses, “Liebling! You’re freezing!”

   “Yeah, but I’ll be alright. We’ve still got another two to three─!”

   An eek! escapes her as Pan lifts her up, positions his opposite forearm in front of his chest engine like a bench, and sits Holly down on it.

   Heat beats at Holly’s face like a cozy fireplace. She wiggles closer to his engine, rubbing her hands together as Pan berates her. 

   “I think not, Fraulein! You haven’t the right to criticize me and my lack of upkeep while forsaking yourself in such a manner. Do you understand the ramifications of hypothermia?”

   “Don’t get high and mighty with me, R2D2. Not after the way I was just all up in your business.”

   Pan tilts his head away from Holly. Ruffling up like a gaudy rooster, he gives her a hmph.

   Holly rolls her eyes. They sit in silence until she pipes up with, “What gives?”

   “I beg your pardon?”

   “Why haven’t you taken better care of yourself? You seem like the type to be all over that kind of thing.”

   Pan faces the ground. His visor dims. 

   The seconds stretch.

   “Please don’t think less of me. I’m embarrassed to tell you that I don’t know how. Following my creation, the Digimon Sovereign instructed me to oversee his Nuclear Facility. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

   “So he just dropped you off, just like that?”

   “Affirmative.”

   “Jesus freakin’ Christ. Well, screw him. Dude probably drives a Tesla.”

   “You are bold to insult the Digimon Sovereign so casually.”

   “Eh,” Holly shrugs. “He sounds like a real crappy guy. So, I guess I don’t care.”

   “The rising tides of stress given his position over the Digital world have calcified his affection. I do not envy him. Nor do I hold contempt,” Pan smiles remorsefully. “Let it be known that Zhuqiaomon is why I am here today. A piece of him lives within me.”

   “What do you mean by that?”

   “Would you care to hear a story, Fraulein?”

   “Yeah. I’d love to know more about you.”

   Pan holds a hand over Holly’s head, protecting her from the snow. “Long before my inception, the four sovereign Digimon reigned supreme over the Digital world in harmony. It was only when the topic of humans arose that dissension grew between them. Each had their own opinions on the matter, with Zhuqiaomon favoring extermination. As you can expect, this did not sit well with the other sovereign Digimon.”

   “Ebonwumon sought harmony,” Pan continues. “Azulongmon erred on the side of caution, yet remained optimistic for the future. He preferred, as they say, to ‘wait and see’. Rather than seek peace or destruction, Baihumon fancied the idea of creating a way to sever our worlds. Zhuqiaomon understood them all from that day forward as fools. Humans would bring war, he believed. Rather, he knew this as an absolute. No other truth existed to him.”

   “Unable to overcome their differences, the sovereigns drew their proverbial lines in the sand, each claiming one of the four hemispheres as their own. Azulongmon secured the raging oceans of the East, whereas Ebonwumon took the forests to the North for himself. This left the cliffs and gray mists of the West to Baihumon, and the hellish wastelands of the South for Zhuqiaomon to rule. And here, young lady, is where I made my debut. Seeking a means of generating power capable of feeding his lust for war, Zhuqiaomon sought to fuel the Digital world with electricity as an instrument to disguise his true intentions. Still to this day they believe his generosity to be a boon, but alas, I’m getting ahead of myself.”

   “But how did he get so much power? I mean, I know Zhuqiaomon’s a mega and all, and a hella powerful one at that, but─”

   “Surely you know patience is a virtue,” Pan teases.

   Holly crinkles her nose at him. He chuckles and resumes. “There is a Volcano, Dune Fall, which slumbers on the border between the South and the West with a belly sinking as far down as the Digital world will allow. Rumor has it there’s a geothermal recess within those depths, one that exists simultaneously within both of our worlds. Few know of this rumor. Even fewer know it to be true. Zhuqiaomon believes a cataclysmic event must have occurred in your world to cause such an occurrence. This furthered his resolve.”

   “There’s only a few things that could have done somethin’ like that. At least, within recent events on my end. If it’s true, then that either had to have been the bombings in Japan— No, it couldn’t have been those. That was back in the mid forties,” Holly looks at the caution signs emblazoned on Pan’s shoulder pauldrons. “It had to have been Chernobyl.”

   “Accessing database. Define: Chernobyl. Multiple sources cited. Overview: The Chernobyl disaster was a nuclear accident that occurred on 26 April 1986 at the No. 4 reactor in the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant near the city of Pripyat in the north of the Ukrainian SSR in the Soviet Union. It is one of only two nuclear energy accidents rated at seven—the maximum severity—on the International Nuclear Event Scale,” Pan shakes his head. “I see. What a horrendously egregious oversight.”

   “Yeah. One big enough to apparently blow a pocket open in time and space.”

   “Indeed. Alas, with this shared knowledge we come to the conclusion of this tale. Sensing this disturbance, this static of unfathomable power, Zhuqiaomon descended into the Hellmouth of Dune Fall, and at the risk of his own demise, retrieved a sample of data from that geothermal recess. He would later take this data and fuse it with his ashes to create an unstable Digiegg. In search of harnessing this new power, Zhuqiaomon tasked his Deva’s with performing a number of Frankenstein-esque operations on other Digimon with this Digiegg. All but one failed, and he gifted this new Digimon the epithet his Son of Suns.”

   The wind whistles.

   There’s snow on the ground, thick and heavy. It’s drifting from the pale gray sky like powdered sugar.

   Silence blankets them.

   Holly keeps her voice at a whisper.

  “Why are you doing this, then?”

   “Hm?”

   “With me. Why are you doing this with me? Why didn’t you kill me?”

   “When we met you happened to mention something about a card, and, if I’m not mistaken, that you had ‘always wanted me’. While I may not have known until then, I believe the same to be true from me to you. My crime is that I dared to dream of something greater and acted upon it given opportunity,” Pan touches a finger to Holly’s nose. “You are worth making every mistake for, little fallen star.”

   Retro game music jingles from beneath the snow.

   “Does this mean story time is over?”

   Holly yelps and a pair of mounted lasers pop out of Pan’s shoulders, their red dot sights pointed at the coat on the ground. Pinching the coat, Pan lifts it up and reveals Motimon underneath it, tunneled in the snow and playing Holly’s Gameboy.

   “Howdy,” Motimon says.

   Pan’s lasers rotate back into his shoulders. “Salutations, my tiny pink amorphous friend! You gave us quite the reason for alarm.”

   “Yeah, you scared the crap outta us!” Holly exclaims. “What gives?!”

   “I didn’t want to interrupt the story. I love a good story. And that was a good one.”

   “Danke dir,” Pan says. “And you are? I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced.”

   “Nope. We haven’t. You were unconscious,” Motimon looks up from the Gameboy and smiles. “It’s good to see you awake and well. My name is Motimon. I’m the Train Conductor of this station. Now that the story is over, we should head inside. It’s going to grow colder. Plus I have more snacks.”

Chapter nine: The Digimon Queen

   Andromon marches into the manufacturing facility claiming the southern edge of the desert. He advances through a corridor before entering a mechanical bay better suited for chaining down a god.

   Power tools whirr through the air.

   Orange blooms in a glow from a troop of Datamon welding plates of a Metal Greymon’s armor to Machinedramon. Gas spurts from the fuel pumps being fed into the tubes flanking his head. 

   The Volcano Dunefall looms over the facility, black clouds and strips of purple lightning encircling the peak. Tongues of lava burp from the crater and slap the jagged slopes. 

   Andromon stands before Machinedramon, a microchip to a supercomputer.

   “ꜱʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴇ.”

   The bay drops to silence. 

   Dust sifts through Andromon’s fingers as he lifts up what remains of Holly’s shattered cell phone to Machinedramon.

   All the Digimon gaze upon it. 

   “ʙʀɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ.”

   After seeking shelter from the Blizzard within the train station, Motimon escorted Holly and Pan to a line of fuel pumps nestled beside a gift shop. There’s also a red telephone booth jutting out from across the tracks like a sideways brick. Because of course there is. 

   And it’s snowing in the desert. 

   There’s not much that’s gonna be able to surprise her now. Unless Ebonwumon’s forest has trees of ice cream.

   That’d be the freakin’ best.

   “If our friend keeps it up at that rate, he’s sure to drain the station,” Motimon says. 

   “Yeesh. What would happen if he did?”

   “I don’t know. It would certainly be interesting. Yup, it would be very interesting— Oh, gosh, darn it.”

   Motimon frowns at the Gameboy. “This level is difficult.”

   “Which one? Ohhh, you’re on level eight. Yeah, that one is big yikes. Freakin’ hate those little green ships.”

   “I am not fond of them either.”

   The revving of Pan’s engine pulls their attention. He smacks his lips. With a pleased sigh he hangs the gas pump back up and grabs another one without hesitation. 

   Pan wraps his lips around the fuel nozzle and continues to guzzle it down. 

   Motimon and Holly exchange a glance. 

   Another minute passes by.

   Holly scratches at her neck. “You uh, almost done over there, big guy?”

   He’s drank at least double his weight in fuel.

   Where does it all go?!

    Pan exhales once finished, and Holly sees the oily sheen of the fumes wave in the air from his breath. He turns to face her with a satisfied smile. 

   “Now then, what happens to be next on the agenda?”

   “The two of you require rest. It is getting late. You should be entering standby mode soon, and you,” Motimon looks up from the Gameboy at Holly. “It is past your bedtime.”

   “I’m fine, see? I can go to bed when I,” Holly yawns. “When I want to.”

   A cone of digital light leaves Pan’s visor and scans over Holly. 

   “Scanning complete. Warning. Biological anomaly detected. Subject is showcasing clear signs of fatigue. Warning. Further results dictate—

   “Hey, zip it!”

   Pan pulls his lips in tight.

   “I have heard enough. Off to bed now, the both of you.”

   Pan walks to stand beside Holly and clasps a large hand on her shoulder. 

   “While I am comfortable to rest in the absence of accommodations, perhaps we could find something more suitable for this one here?” 

   “Eh, I’m fine. I can just sleep next to you like last time.”

   “Fräulein. I’m not very, as one would say, cozy.”

   Holly gestures for Pan to bend down to her level. When he does, she licks her thumb and cleans a dribble of gas off his chin.

   She boops his nose. “I think you are.”

   Pan’s engine sputters. A thin line of blush dusts his cheeks. 

   “Oh, yes. Silly me. These video games you humans have developed are entertaining. Very entertaining, indeed,” Motimon toddles over to Holly, takes her by the hand, and begins shuffling her towards the Employee Lounge. “There are bunk beds in the third room to the left. Would you like an extra blanket? Pillow? I have more ham sandwiches. I’ve noticed you like them.”

   Pan follows behind them in tow. “If I may, do you perhaps have more gasoline I could make use of?”

   Motimon and Holly stop in their tracks. 

   They look at one another.

   They look at Pan.

   Back to one another.

   Back to Pan.

   Smiling sheepishly, Pan rubs the back of his head. “What might I say for myself? I’m a rather large Digimon with a rather large appetite.”

   The hollow thump of a basketball echoes within the school gym. 

   Laughter. The blowing of a whistle. Applause from the bleachers.

   “Man, I hate that I always get benched,” Kenta slumps forward. 

   “Could be worse,” Kazu takes a swig from his water bottle. “At least your parents were willing to hear you out.”

   “They said no? Aw, man. That sucks.”

   “You’re telling me.”

   “I lied and told my Mom I was going on a field trip.”

   “See, my old man’s a hard ass and wouldn’t have bought that.”

   “Well, what did you say? You didn’t tell them the truth, did you?”

   “Are you out of your mind?” Kazu looks at the scoreboard before continuing. “I couldn’t even get halfway through telling him I was going over to your place to study before he hit me with the no.”

   “That’s lame,” Kenta says. “What do you think he’d do if you went anyway?”

   “I wouldn’t be getting that internship at the museum, that’s for sure.”

   “You still want to work there?”

   Kazu puts his hands behind his head and relaxes. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. I’ve wanted to work with dinosaur stuff since I was a kid.”

   The audience roars with applause. Squeaky shoes against the court race past them.

   “You should just come with us anyway,” Kenta starts whining. “Come on, man. Don’t make me go with them alone. You know how I get around Jerry and Rika.”

   Kazu laughs. “You think I could bag a cutie like Rika?”

   “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

   “Well, when you put it that way,” Kazu smiles. “Yeah, I’ll think about it. Besides, there’s no way I’m gonna let you go to the Digital World and get a Digimon before me.”

   “But I’m the one that got you into Digimon!”

   “Yeah, but everyone knows I’m better at it.”

   Kenta frowns and Kazu pats him on the back. “We’ll get you there, man. You just gotta stick with your good ol’ buddy Kazu here, and we’ll get you there.”

   “Thanks, I guess.”

   “That’s the spirit.”

   A whistle pierces the air. Their coach, a middle aged man with too many lanyards and a clipboard used more for display over purpose, yells at them. 

   “You two! You’re swapping with Henry and Takato. Come on, get up! Get up!”

   The boys do as they're told and jog out to the court. 

   “Wait! Kenta!” Their coach says. “Get back here! Bench! Yes, Bench! We’re gonna have you sit this one out instead!”

   “Seriously?!” Kenta says. 

   Holly stares at the ceiling from the top bunk. She reaches up and touches it.

   The room is dark. Solemn. And the air is stale. It reminds her of when she stayed with some relatives she barely knew following her Grandpa’s funeral.

   Holly scratches her nail against a chunk of stucco. 

   She’s been here for hours.

   Never before has she wanted something so badly in her life, for Pan to be her Digimon. What makes Takato, Henry, and Rika so stinkin’ special?

   Sure, Takato is a sweet kid, but he’s a pushover. Henry’s just the typical smart type who thinks he’s better than everyone else but is too much of a coward to own it. And Rika…

   Holly rolls over onto her side and huffs. 

   Rika never should have gotten the Digimon Queen title. 

   The supposed ‘Digimon Queen’ is just another rock biter who plays the meta to a T. There’s nothing creative about what she does. Just copy and paste. 

   She’s only ‘good’ because her rich model Mommy can afford to buy her the best cards.

   “It should have been me,” Holly says under her breath.

   If she had won that tournament, would Pan have become her Digimon then?

   Holly feels like she just took a punch to the gut at that thought.  

   She snatches one of the spare pillows Motimon gave her and shoves it over her face. A half eaten ham sandwich slaps the floor in the commotion. 

   The seconds stretch. She tells herself that she’s been under this pillow for hours, but it’s been less than a minute. Why doesn’t anyone ever come to comfort her?

   It’s because nobody actually likes her. They just play nice to save face. 

   “What’s she doing here?”

   Holly seethes.

   Her thoughts begin to race.

   What’s going to happen if she can’t get into college? 

   She’s not lucky like the others. There’s no rich relative that’s going to sweep in and save the day. It’s just her and her Mom.

   And Mom doesn’t make much. Mom’s proof that hard work doesn’t pay off. She’s been on the grind since she was 14 and has little to show for it.

   Is she going to wind up like her Mom?

   Jaded? Callous? And lonely?

   Holly screams into her pillow before throwing it as hard as she can at the wall.

   She’s already those things.

   Holly jerks up. She stares down at her hands. 

   Jealousy. Resentment. Anger.

   They ball her hands up into fists.

   She doesn’t need anybody. 

   Holly squeezes her eyes shut. Tears push themselves out. 

   She’ll do it herself. She always does, and—

   Holly dries up her tears, hops off the top bunk, and scurries out of the Employee Lounge at the gravelly rumble of Pan’s engine revving. 

   She carefully pushes the door open to the station with a creeeeeeeeeeeak.

   There’s a dim blue glow bathing her as she tip toes out. 

   She looks up at Pan as he gazes down at her.

   His back is to the wall beside the door.

   “What are you doing?” Holly whispers playfully. “I could hear you from all the way in there.”

   “I would prefer not to say.”

   “Are you okay?”

   Pan looks away from Holly. He doesn’t say anything. 

   Silence settles between them. 

   And Holly’s heart drops into her stomach.

   She turns back into the lounge for a night of no sleep, because like hell she’s going to get any now.

   “It’s the blasted door,” Pan gestures with the wave of the back of his hand. “It’s entirely too small.”

   Holly stops. 

   A little smile of realization sweeps across her face. “And uh, why were you tryin’ to get through the door?”

   “Processing. Scanning for an appropriate response.”

   She waits for him to get his thoughts in order.

   “Scanning complete. Young lady, I,” Pan hesitates. “I wished to see you. And I would like to extend to you my sincerest apologies.”

   Holly closes the door to the lounge and puts her back to it. 

   “Why? What’s wrong?”

   “Answer: Inconclusive. Multiple sources cited. Top three results include topics of guilt, longing, and companionship,” Pan gazes down at Holly. “I knew it within my black box that if I had continued to remain with you on that rooftop, I would have abandoned my post. I chose to forsake you. And, for that, I am terribly sorry.”

   “I mean, I get it. It was a total freak accident that I dropped in on you like that. It still doesn’t feel real. None of this does. But, really. It’s okay. You came back for me, right? But I ain’t gonna let you live that hike in the desert down. That sucked. Like, that really sucked.”

   “I will make it up to you. You have my word as a gentleman.”

   Holly smiles. “You already have. Don’t sweat it.”

   A comfortable silence settles between them.

   Pan opens his mouth to speak and an audio recording of Holly’s voice peppered with static replaces his own. “Before I got here, I was gearing up to write this paper on quantum fluctuations, and how mistakes in the universe can—“

   The recording cuts. Returning to his voice, Pan says, “If you would wish to continue, I would very much like to hear what you have to say on this matter.”

   Holly gawks at Pan, dumbfounded. 

   A roar of echoes of times where she’s gone unheard, talked over, and ignored throws her into a brief state of dizziness. 

   “I don’t know if anyone’s ever really cared to follow up with me like that,” She says more to herself than Pan. “But, um, the paper. It’s for my AP Physics class. We’re supposed to come up with our own theory as to what happened before the Big Bang. I was going to make mine about how mistakes in the aging universe bud new realities, and how who we are now is the result of something that shouldn’t have been possible, but it was thanks to stuff like entropy. But we’re here. Accident or not, we’re here. So, I think the Big Bang happens a lot, actually.” 

   Holly swallows thickly. 

   She doesn’t think she’s worth what she’s about to say. The words claw at her throat, but she thinks she’d rather spit at God’s feet than say them.

   “M-Maybe you needed to make that mistake. But then you chose to come and find me. You made your own Big Bang.”

   “No doubt you are delightfully whimsical. I believe that to be, as one might say, a beautiful way to view the world at large,” Pan takes a seat and his bulk shifts with a mechanical thunk. “I would very much like to make more mistakes with you.”

   As if he were sweeping aside a curtain, Pan fans his coat out to make room for Holly to sit beside him. He drapes the corner of it over her like a blanket once she cuddles up next to him.

   Holly rests her head against Pan. “I’d like to make every mistake with you.”

   He looks down at her and smiles. Softly. Like how an angel from heaven may behold a newborn for the first time. 

   “I wish you were, y’know,” Her posture wilts. “I don’t want to say it. But mine, y’know. I wish you were mine.”

   “I believe I am,” Comes Pan’s immediate response. “Perhaps the digital world had a lapse in judgment. Perhaps we exist as a means of creating something entirely new, you and I.”

   “You really think so?”

   “Affirmative.”

   “You sure about that?”

   Pan leans his head back and it knocks against the wall. 

   “Autonomy. It is something we both fear and covet as Digimon of mechanical heritage. Autonomy is, for a lack of better words, a quick trip to the Primary Village.”

   “The Primary Village…?”

   “Ah. My apologies. Mademoiselle, it’s where we as Digimon go to be reborn should our data be spared. Some lose their memories upon reincarnation. Should you be automated, such as myself, we’re more often than not wiped completely.”

   “Oh,” Holly pulls Pan’s coat up to her chin. “Yeah. I remember you mentioning something like that. Let’s try to avoid that.”

   “Affirmative. Rest assured I have no intentions of having my data repurposed. I’d much rather see you through to your next destination. And the next. And so on and so forth. Should you continue to choose to have me, that is.”

   She’s trembling under the fear of overestimating her worth despite his comforting words. “I care about you. A lot. I don’t normally connect well with others. Sure, I know a lot of people, but I don’t think I really have any friends— Scratch that. Moti. I’ve got Moti now. At least I think so. But what if he gets sick of me?” A pause. “You’re different, though. I know it’s corny, but I feel like we already know each other. Like we’ve met in a past life or something.”

   “Perhaps you and I are the result of our adventures and shenanigans in another world,” Pan chuckles. “Perhaps somewhere Across the Universe.”

   Holly giggles with him. “Y’know, I can totally see that?”

   They both let out an exasperated sigh.

   The blizzard outside howls like a menstruating banshee.

   “Same,” Holly says in response. 

   Pan barks a laugh. “Where do you happen upon these quips?”

   “The quip store. Tuesdays at 3pm. Gotta get there quick, too. Better if you get their quip, though.”

   He laughs again.

   Holly makes herself comfortable in preparation for sleep, a satisfied smile spread across her face. She’s nearly out when Pan’s voice tickles her ears. It’s barely above a whisper. 

   “You, my little fallen star. You gave me an opportunity at autonomy.”

   “I think it’s always been there,” She says sleepily. “I’m just the mistake that gave you a nudge,” She yawns. “A nudge in the right direction. Nighty night.”

   Holly falls asleep. She peeps with a snore and it startles her awake. Pan chuckles. With a disgruntled grunt she tugs on his coat and wraps herself up until she’s made a little Holly burrito.

   “And what a magnificent mistake you are.”

   Pan powers down for the evening.

   The hours through the night slipped by like clouds slinking across the moon. 

   And, for a time, the blizzard eased. All was quiet.

   Holly’s spooked awake by the shrill whistling of the wind. 

   Pan’s visor blinks on. His attention is drawn to Holly as she tucks her head down while another howling outburst of wind rattles the train station. 

   It’s as if the soul of the world itself is screaming. 

   Holly keeps her head low.

   “Madam, are you frightened?”

   “No,” A pause. “Kinda.”

   “Oh, my dear. Worry not. I will keep you safe. I will protect you.”

   “I’m not always like this. It’s just sometimes. I’m sorry right now is one of those sometimes moments. It’s just so loud.”

   “An apology won’t be necessary; You have done no wrong. Fear is a response to stimuli perceived as a threat. As of this moment, you are acting in accordance with your own nature.”

   Holly scoffs. “Tell that to everyone else.”

   “Without hesitation. Introduce us and I’ll demonstrate what fear can do to a biological life form.”

   “You’ve got no idea how much I appreciate what you just said. But it’s okay. Really. I was just being hyperbolic, is all.”

   “Be that as it may, I was not.”

   “Alright, big guy. Remind me to never piss you off.”

   “I highly doubt you’re capable of garnering my ire. I am not so easily angered.”

   “Then what was that all about?”

   “Processing. Conclusion: A previously undetected weakness.”

   Holly peeks up. “You have a weakness?”

   “That’s on a need to know basis,” Pan chuckles.

   “If I had your card I’d know. Hmph.”

   “My card,” Pan ponders. “Ah! Oh, yes! I had been meaning to ask you about them.”

   “Really?” Holly perks up. “What would you like to know?”

   “I’d like to compare and contrast them to the database’s archive of known Digimon. Then, if you would be so kind as to indulge me, I would enjoy hearing your perspective of them.”

   “Yeah! I’d love that! Here, let me go and get my bag.”

   Holly wiggles out of her blanket burrito she had bundled herself up in. Then she zips over to the employee lounge door, opens it, and stops.

   Darkness thickens the air of the hallway. The longer she looks the further it seems to stretch into a mouth of black.

   At least there’s a small light above each door.

   The wind shrieks with an awful, hollow scream and the power cuts out. 

   Holly whines. 

   “Nothing more than the hop, skip, and jump of a Lopmon away,” Pan’s voice softens. “I’ll be right here.”

   “I promise I’m not doing this for attention. You don’t think I’m being too dramatic, do you?”

   “Negative. As a Digimon of machine descent, let it be known that fear is both illogical and anathema to me. Yet I am guilty of it all the same. Who planted these seeds of doubt in your head?”

   “It’s just something I’ve been accused of, being too dramatic and all. Or being too much for people. I just get really excited, is all,” Holly’s shoulders droop. “But, being excited ain’t always a good thing. It’s not always something happy.”

   “You are passionate. Brazen. And I find you remarkably charming. Never define your worth under the word of others who fail to care to understand you,” Pan barks a laugh. “Hah! Well then, allow us to put me up to the test. Do you happen to believe I’m dramatic? Hmmmmmm?”

   Holly puts a hand over her mouth and tries not to laugh.

   “Woe certainly is me,” Pan throws the back of his hand across his cap. “I can take the suspense no longer! Young lady! Your answer, I beg of you. I must know what you think of me!”

   Holly starts laughing and Pan smirks. 

   He turns and bends at the chest towards Holly, bringing his face dangerously close to hers. “And just look at you now. Simply delightful. You happen to enjoy this aspect of me, do you not?”

   She begins to stutter, eyes darting between his visor and lips.

   “W-Well, I, um, y’know, I, uhhh, I’m not the best with words?!”

   Pan’s smirk deepens. 

   “You seem as if you want to kiss me, Holly Leonhardt with a D.”

   She blinks.

   Holly.exe has stopped working. 

   “W-Wait,” Holly’s heart hammers in her chest. “Oh, my god! My cards! Y-Yeah! I gotta get them, for, y’know, the scanning, and the—“

   The Online across Pan’s visor ripples. 

   Holly’s eyes widen at him before she bolts off down the hallway. 

   “As expected,” Pan chuckles to himself. 

   Holly makes it to her room in record time and throws herself onto the bottom bunk. She shoves her face into a pillow and squeals with giggles, kicking her feet. Once she’s calmed down she slings her bag over her back, steps over the ham sandwich that fell from earlier— wait.

   Holly picks up the ham sandwich. She looks it over, plucks a sticker of lint off of it, and shrugs her shoulders. Oh, well. It’s only been on the ground for a few hours. She puts it in her mouth and returns to Pan, whereupon he looks at the ham sandwich as if it were a toe where a thumb should be. 

   Then he frowns. A cone of light scatters from his visor and scans it. 

   “Fraulein! Do not consume that, for the love of the sovereign.”

   Holly chews faster. 

   Pan palms his face. “Surely you know it’s grown stale by now.”

   “It’s not so bad,” Holly finishes the sandwich. “Mayo helps a lot.”

   Pan shakes his head at Holly like an old man disappointed in today’s youth. 

   She puts effort into smiling innocently at him. He relents with a sigh.

   “Okay, so,” Holly digs her cards out of her bag. “This is my favorite deck. I carry it around with me wherever I go, and it’s the one I always use in tournaments. It’s, um, a Metal deck. Built around Machine Digimon like you.”

   “I find the ways humanity has chosen to depict us endearing. You know so much it seems as a species, yet understand so little.”

   “That actually kinda summarizes us as a whole,” Holly shuffles her cards. “So, what do you want first? Do you wanna give em’ a scan, or listen to me ramble? Cause trust me, I can ramble.”

   “Satiating my curiosity can wait. Please, do as you said, ramble away. Tell me everything you’d like for me to know,” Pan rolls his shoulders back as he relaxes against the wall. “You must have been quite skilled to be participating in tournaments.”

   “Oh! Yeah! I was totally in tournaments! Like, all the time,” Holly begins to sweat. “I won a lot of them, too. You see, not a lot of people use Metal decks. They’re kinda tricky because how they’re played relies on what cards your opponent has. But that’s what makes them so much fun. They can just about adapt to any kind of situation. Sadly they’re not the meta right now, though.”

   “Error. Definition for Meta within the context of the parameters given not defined. What does this word happen to mean?”

   “It’s slang for what everyone else is using because it’s good,” Holly rolls her eyes. “I freakin’ hate playing whatever the meta is when it’s not in the Metal family. Y’know, there’s this chick, Rika, I can’t stand her. All she plays is the current meta. I swear to freakin’ god, it’s like she looks up a template on how to put her decks together. But I build my decks from scratch. And I don’t have to spend big money on my cards, either. Unlike her, I know how to make just about anything work.”

   “Haha! My sensors are detecting a bitter rivalry. Oh, how thrilling! Tell me, surely you have defeated this Rika you speak of?”

   “T-Totally! A lot, in fact. Yeah. I’ve beaten her a bunch of times,” Holly’s leg starts to bounce. “To tell you the truth, not too long ago I destroyed her in the finals and took her Digimon Queen title.”

   Pan’s got a grin spread across his face that would put the happiest man on earth to shame. “Wunderbar! Oh, my dearest mademoiselle. I just knew it within my engine’s core you were special. But to think you were heralded as the Digimon Queen!”

   She hates herself.

   “I-I mean, it’s not that big of a deal. It’s just a local title. It’s not like it’s international or anything.”

   “Given your talents, it very well could be one day. Do not, as you say, sell yourself short.”

   Holly smiles down at her cards as a means of masking her shame.

   When she was seven years old she stole $5 from her Grandpa’s wallet for the school book fair. Days later when he found out, he wasn’t angry with her. He was hurt. Grandpa said she never had to take from him. All she ever had to do was ask.

   Unwilling to succumb to guilt, Holly shoves those feelings down into a box and pretends they no longer exist. After all, she’s in the Digital World! And everyone dresses themselves up with little white lies, right?

   “I mean, I guess you’re right,” Holly changes topics with the fanning out of her cards. “Your turn! Go on, do the thingy. Let’s see what you can find.”

   “As you wish,” He chuckles. 

   Shimmering data light zig zags across the cards as Pan scans them over.

   “Processing anomalous entry. Cataloging now. Please wait,” A lengthy pause. “This is rather, hm. Well. It certainly wasn’t what I expected. How might I say this, hmmm. Consider it both fascinating to me, and yet, unremarkable.

   “I’m not picking up what you’re stepping in.”

   “Negative. I am seated. I— Ah. Another one of your turns of phrases. Charming comes to mind once more. Now then! In any case, I find myself curious about the implications behind these cards matching real Digimon. With impressive accuracy, might I add. What does your world know of Digimon outside of these cards?”

   “I don’t think anyone knows you guys exist outside of a handful of people. I mean, I didn’t even know ya’ll were real until I saw my friend Takato’s Digimon, Guilmon.”

   “Processing. Error: Internal comprehension failure,” Pan’s voice deepens with concern. “Am I understanding you correctly in that there are Digimon present in your world? Currently? And they possess tamers?”

   “Um, yeah. There’s Guilmon, Terriermon, Renamon, and, um, Impmon,” Holly frowns at the ground. “Impmon doesn’t have a tamer. The other three do, though. And there’s other Digimon out and about, but the three I mentioned before usually take care of them.”

   Pan’s back straightens. And his face hardens. 

   He activates his ability [Infinite Download].

   “Accessing database. Bypass security systems and raise internal processing power to maximum threshold. Warning: Activating this system may increase— Bypass safety precautions. Password: $0n0fR@. Access granted. Raising internal processing power to maximum threshold and bypassing safety precautions.”

   Documents, blueprints, walls of text, and digital rain scroll across Pan’s visor at lightning speed. The magma simmering within his many tubes begins to boil.

   “Hey,” Holly steps forward. “You okay over there?”

   Pan holds up a finger in wait. He grimaces.

   After forty or so seconds his engine stalls. Smoke sputters out of it. It’s starting to get thick. Sparks pop and nip off of the oscillating fan blades.

   “Pan! Stop it, please!”

   Straining his neck back, Pan grits his teeth until he gasps and his visor cuts to Standby. 

   “The Deva,” He blunders. “He’s recruited his Deva to end the lot of you. They’ve already begun.”

   “W-Wait, I don’t—“

   “Nine of them have fallen to said trio of tamers you mentioned. Only three Deva remain,” Pan’s voice cracks. “Antylamon. Caturamon. Vikaralamon. Fräulein, you don’t know what this means. Should they continue and fail, Zhuqiaomon will send an even stronger Digimon. One they would stand no hope of facing.”

   “But, b-but, I don’t understand, I mean,” Holly looks at Pan for an answer. “I don’t know what the Deva are— What kind of Digimon would he even send?”

   Silence.

   Pan looks at Holly like he’s yet to come to terms with shooting a sick dog. 

   “No. No, no, no, no,” Holly steps back. “No, no, no. We’re going to Ebonwumon’s forest. He can’t make you if we’re there, right?”

   “These are extreme measures he’s taking. I cannot be certain,” Pan fills his bio-mechanical lungs and steadies his resolve. “It has become paramount we make haste for Ebonwumon’s forest the moment this blizzard breaks. From which point forward we will act accordingly.”

   Holly shakes her head while staring at the ground, seemingly in a trance. 

   “Madam, mark my words. This new information changes nothing between us.”

   “Why are you doing all of this for me? I don’t get it. You don’t know how bad I suck. I promise I’m not worth all this. I’m really not.”

   “I think I’ll be the judge of that. And you want to know why, truly? Simply because I can, liebling. Because it is my decision and mine alone to do so,” Pan chooses to smile. “It’s only proper, after all. For a Queen to be kept safe by her Royal Guard.”

   Holly’s stomach drops. 

   She stands there with her eyes glued to the ground until a rush of wind at first believed to be a tornado rocks the train station. Something in the distance falls off a shelf and shatters in the dark.

   She hugs herself and squeezes her eyes shut. Pan’s hand finds her back. With a gentle nudge he guides her to his side, back into the space between the crook of his arm and torso. Once again he lifts the tail of his coat and shelters her within it. 

   The blizzard would rage in the desert for three more days.

   Holly didn’t get much sleep.

   Puddles of water dot the desert, reflecting the clouds above. Scarce patches of snow glitter in the sun.

   It all hisses to steam as the morning hours pass. 

   Scurrying across the flat desert, a Digi-beetle searches for shelter. It darts left and races for a gap in the sands. It’s caught by the pink tongue of a Digi-Lizard and disappears. 

   Motimon piles a fresh pair of overalls, travel toiletries (including discreetly tucked away tampons), and a lunchbox from the gift shop stuffed with snacks.

   “You sure you don’t want to come with us?”

   “Yup. I must remain here. But I will miss you two. Very much. Very much, indeed.”

   “And there’s no way we can change your mind?”

   Motimon looks at Holly’s messenger bag. “I have yet to finish the final level.”

   “I’m not giving you my Gameboy.”

   Motimon frowns.

   “Buuuut,” Holly pulls it out of her bag. “You could play it as much as you like if you come with us.”

   Motimon shuffles in place. “That is tempting. But I must stay here. This is my train station. It is my responsibility.”

   “Hypothetically speaking,” Pan steps forward. “Should this train station happen to no longer be your responsibility, perhaps you would join us?”

   “Yup. But this train station is my responsibility. It is my job.”

   “Comrade,” Pan says gently. “There is nothing for you here. The trains are not coming.”

   Silence.

   Motimon stares at the wall. “The two of you need to leave, please.”

   Holly opens her mouth to say something. Nothing comes out. 

   Pan’s shoulders rise with his deep inhale. And they fall with his drawn out sigh. 

   He and Holly look at one another for an answer, finding nothing but longing, hurt, and sadness between them. 

   Pan turns for the exit, his footsteps rumbling the ground despite the softness he’s attempting to convey given the situation.

   Holly sits on her knees. Setting her bag in front of her, she flips the flap open and fishes for the hard candies at the bottom. Once she has them, along with some screws and a pair of mechanical pencils, she arranges them on the floor. 

   She turns her attention to Motimon. He’s still staring at the wall, his back to her. Bowing her head in acceptance, Holly pushes herself up and shuffles off towards Pan. They exit the train station.

   Motimon sluffs forward. He heaves a long, sorrowful sigh. Then he turns around and sees the arrangement of hard candies, mechanical pencils, and screws before him.

  I'll miss you

   A gelatinous warble of a whine leaves Motimon. He reaches down to ghost his hand over the message. Then he picks up one of the hard candies, a sour blue one, and inspects it. 

   “Interesting. Very interesting,” Motimon rolls it around in his palm and pops it into his mouth. “Mm! Oh, dear, these are tasty. Tasty, indeed. I do love lead.”

   A glowing light blooms all over Motimon. 

   “Oh. Oh, my!”

   Holly and Pan found it best to walk the first part of the way to Ebonwumon’s forest and fly the remaining half. Neither of them wanted a repeat from last time. 

   “Mannn,” Holly groans. “It’s so freakin’ hot.”

   “108 degrees Fahrenheit is rather uncomfortable for your kind. My apologies. There is little I can do to help given my digital archetype.”

   Holly huffs. Seated on his shoulders, she slumps forward and rests her elbows on his hat. Pan’s next footstep hits the desert harder than normal. He stops.

   “What’s up?”

   A crosshair sweeps over a mini map of the desert within Pan’s visor. A red dot blinks. Once. Twice. The crosshair locks onto it. The red dot is moving towards them.  

   Pan lifts Holly off of his shoulders and sets her on the ground. His lasers rotate out. He steps in front of Holly. 

   “Warning. Potential incoming threat detected. Number of hostiles: One. Hazard level: Passive. Keep to my back.”

   Holly peeks out from behind Pan’s boot. 

   She doesn’t see anything. But after a few seconds a spot enters her vision from across the horizon. As it approaches she can make out that it’s flying, and it almost looks like a bug, a metallic red ladybug—

   Pan catches on before Holly. His lasers fold back into his shoulders and he spreads his arms out.

    “Congratulations, comrade!” Pan booms. “Haha! Well done!”

   Tentomon, previously Motimon, finally makes his way to them. He lands and his wings click together on his back. 

   “Howdy. And thank you."

   His voice has a bit more of an anxious ring to it now. And similar to Pan, there’s the hint of a motor humming behind every word. 

   The knapsack he’s toting bounces on his shoulder. Holly reveals herself from behind Pan’s boot and makes her way over to him. She sits on her knees. 

   “I forgot to pack you an extra ham sandwich. I know you like them.”

   Holly smiles. She’d laugh but she thinks she'd cry if she did.

   “Thanks for lookin’ out for me. And you look great.”

   “Thank you. Those hard candies you left behind were tasty,” Tentomon fiddles with his claws. “Each night the two of you failed to meet your curfew of 10:30pm. And our tall friend here may require an additional set of hands should he experience another system failure. As for you, I would miss you too. Very much, indeed.”

   Holly walks on her knees closer to Tentomon. She opens her arms in the hopes of receiving a hug. “Do you wanna come with us?”

   Tentomon hops into Holly’s embrace. 

   “I had hoped you would ask again.”

Chapter ten: Murphy's Law

   Tears pelt the screen flashing red with too many Digimon to count. 

   “Riley!” Yamaki barks. 

   She continues to stare at her screen.

   Yamaki pinches the bridge of his nose. Then he retrieves a remote from his coat, points it at the wall wide television to his left, and clicks it on. 

   Civilians. Running and screaming. A flipped over car on fire.

   An arm laying still from beneath it. 

   “Their blood is on your hands. Look at what you’ve done. All because you can’t tell the difference between life and data.”

   “Then you do it,” She pulls the lever to her right and her elevated seat swivels as it lowers. “I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t. I’m done. I’m done with Hypnos, and I’m done with you. It’s over, Yamaki.”

   She collects her belongings, holds them against her chest, and proceeds to leave the room. 

   Yamaki calls out to her while he takes her seat. He thrusts the lever down and it circles back into position. “All because you couldn’t press a button. You’ll be back, Riley. You always come back.”

   She hangs in the doorway.

   The seconds stretch.

   “Not this time.”

   Riley leaves Hypnos and the door clicks shut behind her. 

   Yamaki rolls his eyes. He spares a glance at the empty seat which partners the one he’s in. 

   “Women,” He mutters.  

   A shaggy boar of a Digimon, Vikaralamon, trudges through the streets. A newscaster scrambles to read his teleprompter. Shelter in place. Help is on the way. Head towards the barricades on—

   Vikaralamon carves through a building with a swing of its head.

   Yamaki’s fingers work quickly against the touch screen. He punches in his administrative code and activates Juggernaut. The leather of his seat crinkles as he allows himself to relax. A sigh passes his lips. 

   In less than two minutes Digimon will be wiped from existence. 

   Yamaki digs his phone out of his pocket. An amused smirk follows.

   A burner. Typical Riley.

   They’ve done this before, he and Riley. She loves the chase.

   He decides not to message her back. It’ll hurt her more that way.

   After all, he’s the only one that can give and take that pain away.

   It’s why she always comes back.  

   Hypnos headquarters rumbles like distant thunder.  

   Juggernaut shrieks with life and pierces the clouds with a pillar of light. A vortex of code spreads out from the satellite dish atop Hypnos emitting the frequency necessary to delete Digimon. It begins to corkscrew around the pillar of light before stretching across the sky.

   “Let the show begin,” Yamaki smirks and flicks his lighter. 

   The red dots begin to thin across his screen.

   Souls in Hell would find competition in screaming with the data that’s crying out now. 

   The cacophony of death cuts to silence without warning. 

   Yamaki’s screen pinches closed and Hypnos headquarters flickers.

   The unmistakable groan from a loss of power echoes through the building. 

   “No!” Yamaki slams his fist against the screen and it cracks. “This can’t be happening! Not now! This isn’t possible!”

   A whisper with a haunted reverb fills the room.

   “You thought you could kill us so easily.”

   “Who are you?!” Yamaki shouts into the dark. “What have you done?! You’re going to kill us all!”

   “In due time.”

   “I won’t let you do this. Humanity will endure. Do you hear me? Humanity will endure.”

   “They may have.”

   “What do you mean by may have?” Yamaki hisses. 

   “Your actions have dire consequences. I am one of them.”

   “Even if you kill me now, someone will take my place and Juggernaut will wipe data scum like you from this world.”

   “Juggernaut? So, that’s what your kind have been calling it. I see. Juggernaut is no longer with you. I can no longer feel the tug it had on my code. It has left this place.”

   “That’s impossible.”

   “And yet it’s not here.”

   “This is nothing more than a power outage thanks to the success of Juggernaut.”

   The face of a Japanese dashi resembling a blue and gold dog bleeds through the dark before Yamaki. 

   It doesn’t phase him.

   “You will come to know me as Caturamon. I am judgement. I am death. And you, along with your kind, will pay.”

   Yamaki barks a laugh. “You’re a computer program.”

   “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Consider this meeting of ours a declaration of war.”

   “I won’t allow that to happen. There will be none of you left once I’m through with you. Do you really think Juggernaut is all I have at my disposal?”

   Caturamon’s lips form around a toothy smile. “You’re bluffing.”

   “Perhaps,” Yamaki smiles back. “Perhaps not.”

   “You have no means outside of those children.”

   “Leave them out of this.”

   “I cannot.”

   “You don’t have any morals, do you? As if data like you could understand what it means to be ‘human’.”

   “And yet you’re allowing them to fight your battles for you.”

   Yamaki holds his tongue. He sneers and says nothing. 

   Caturamon slips back into the dark. 

   “Death will find you soon enough. And when it does, it will be wearing my face.”

   “And here I was hoping I wouldn’t have to look at that disgusting thing again.”

   Amusement touches Caturamon’s tone. “Farewell. For now.”

   The faint alarm of police sirens and ambulances wailing tickle Yamaki’s ears. 

   He slams his fist against the screen again. 

   …They’re a buncha losers. All of em’.

   Impmon stares up at the ceiling from within the sewers.

   A rat squeaks and grooms itself across the way from him. The water between them ripples. Sloshes. Churns and begins rushing forward. Dust drifts from above as the Tamers battle against the deva. 

   The rat sniffs the air.

   A chunk of concrete falls from the ceiling and smashes it. Blood seeps from beneath.

   “Heh. Too bad that ain’t me.”

   “And why is that?”

   Impmon’s shoulders jump with surprise. He winces from the pain, clutching his arm. “Who are ya, huh?! Don’tcha know it’s rude to sneak up on people!”

   “Answer my question.”

   “What? Yous think you’re God or somethin’?”

   “I could be.”

   “Hah! And why would God come all the way down here to speak to little old me, huh?”

   “Only you can answer that.”

   Impmon glares at the sewage racing by.

   A bottle without a message bobs with the water before slipping under. 

   “Yous want an answer so stinkin’ bad?! Fine! I’m a coward. A good for nothin’ coward. There. So, ya gonna leave me alone now, or what?”

   “Why are you a coward? For running away?”

   “Yous ever heard the term: Captain Obvious?”

   “There is no shame in preserving your life.”

   Impmon stills.

   Silence. 

   “I don’t know what the Hell yous are, or what ya want, but, I’m gonna ask yous a question anyways,” A pause. “Yous think they’re up they're makin’ fun of me? Y’know, for ‘preserving my life’ and all?”

   “Only because they see self sacrifice as a virtue.”

   Impmon sneers like a bitter, old hag at that. “Yeah, well, who needs em’! It’s not like I liked any of them to begin with. Buncha goody two shoes runnin’ around thinkin’ they can just do whatever they want.”

   “And why don’t you do what you want?”

   “Cause I ain’t lucky like the others. Guess yous could say I drew the short end of the stick.”

   The sewer waters calm. Blood from beneath the chunk of concrete continues to spread. 

   The seconds stretch.

   “I could make you stronger.”

   Impmon’s ears twitch. Then he smacks at the air dismissively. 

   “Get lost, whatever you are. Yous can take your pity and shove it up where the sun don’t shine!”

   “I’m not giving you pity. I’m offering you a deal.”

   A portal zips reality open across the sewer water. It shimmers with disturbance.

   Caturamon melts through and reveals himself. 

   Impmon scoffs. “And here I was expectin’ the big man himself.”

   “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

   “Yeah, well, get in line, pal. And while you’re at it, why don’tcha go on over to the concession stand and get ya a big bag of Shut the Hell up! I don’t want to talk to yous no more, got it?!”

   Caturamon steps forward. His fur brushes the blood and it ripples with his reflection. 

   “I can make you stronger. Isn’t that what you want?”

   “No shit, Sherlock! It ain’t fair that all of them get to do it! I want to Digivolve too! It ain’t fair! What do they got that I don’t?! Huh?! Can yous answer me that, ya mangy mutt!?”

   “They made a deal with one another. I would like to make a deal with you.”

   Impmon rubs his arm. He winces again.

   He avoids Caturamon’s eyes and focuses on the sewage water. 

   “What kinda deal?”

   Ebonwomon’s forest crests over the horizon of the desert, deceptive in how close it appears to be. 

   They’ve been walking for hours.

   Rather, Pan’s been walking. 

   Holly’s seated on his left pauldron. Tentomon, who has accepted the nickname ‘Moti’ as of today, is perched on his right. 

   Rays from the digital sun bear down on Holly’s back. Sweat has ringed her armpits. And she thinks she’d have been cooked alive by now thanks to Pan’s heat, but he’s been regulating his temperature to keep them all at least somewhat cool. 

   Kinda like when your car doesn’t have AC and all you can do is roll the window down. But, hey, at least it’s something.

   That and she’s not paying much attention to it. 

   Time isn’t the only thing that fails to exist when you’re having fun. 

   Holly kicks her feet as she laughs, her shoe lace slapping against Pan’s Extreme Heat logo. 

   “You are so full of it! There’s no way a Gekomon sounds worse than a Scumon smells.”

   “Oh, dear,” Moti remarks. “How lucky. You’ve been fortunate enough to not hear one of their songs.”

   “Dude, a Scumon literally tossed a handful of dookie at me. Trust me. It’s worse.”

   “Pan, friend, may I ask for a favor?”

   “Heyyyy, that’s not fair. Don’t pull him into this.”

   “I am merely asking for a favor.”

   “Liebling, Gekomon are notorious for having rather, how would one say, a singing voice which assaults your ears,” Pan chuckles. “Which would you prefer, Gekomon starring guest star Gekomon perform the Digi Rap, or the Gekomon Digital World Tour solo: Gekomon, Gekomon, oh, great and powerful and beautiful and— We forgot the lyrics, Gekomon?”

   Moti taps the panel shielding his mouth and voice box. “I believe the Digi rap should prove my point, thank you.”

   Holly crosses her arms over her chest. But her telling smile has both Pan and Moti beaming with anticipation.

   They all know she’s wrong.

   Gekomon sounds way worse than how Scumon smells.

   “Accessing Database— ACCESS DENIED,” Pan blurts out.

   His visor flips to red.

   Holly sticks her tongue out at Moti.

   With equal care and haste, Pan lifts Holly from his shoulder and places her on the ground. Moti follows suit and flutters down into Holly’s arms. 

   Holly and Moti look at one another before turning to Pan. 

   “Um, big guy? What’s going on?”

   Pan’s arm unfolds into his thermonuclear canon. 

   “Warning. Scanners detect an incoming barrage of missiles. Do exactly as I say and continue to head North. I will draw their fire and join you momentarily.”

   Coiling in a helix, a trio of striped missiles detonate off of Pan’s coat as he twirls it over his shoulder to shield Holly and Moti. Smoke engulfs them.

   Holly coughs and stumbles. Moti leaves Holly’s arms, takes her hand, and attempts to guide her away from the smoke. A red glean bathes them. Rotating out of Pan’s shoulders, his lasers trill before screaming a pair of energy beams forward. An explosion of crunching mechanical parts follows. 

   The smoke settles at their ankles. Streams of data flit away from a crumpled Ballistamon. The Digimon struggles to stand and collapses into data.

   Holly tugs her hand back from Moti. He doesn’t let go and they grapple.

   “Let me go!”

   “But we must do as he says.”

   Pan steadies his thermonuclear cannon with his other hand, aiming towards the sky. An orange glow blooms from it.

    “Warning. Leave me, Fraulein. Do as I say.”

   “No!”

   “Warning. I said I will join you momentarily,” Pan pivots a foot back and cements his weight on it. “Now do as I say!”

   Slipping through the clouds, a Digimon greater suiting a steampunk airship casts a shadow over Pan, Holly, and Moti.

   Whumps echo from the Blimpmon. Cannonballs dent the desert around them, sand puffing to dust from the impact.

   [Subatomic Discharge]

   Pan’s thermonuclear canon roars. Molten light bursts out the barrels and pierces the Blimpmon on the left exposed flank. Fire swallows the Blimpmon. It breaks in half, firing a final salvo before shattering into motes of data. 

   Pan’s auto tracking system locks onto the cannonballs. 

   His chest engine stalls.

   Seizing Holly and Moti, Pan lurches forward into a roll and blankets them with his coat. 

   The cannonballs pummel the ground from which they stood.

   More Digimon surround them, the whooshing of jets and the clinking of parts pervading the air. 

   Footsteps encircle the trio.

   Holly and Moti look to Pan for an answer.

   He smiles wistfully.

   A voice beckons them. 

   “Cease fire and surrender the anomaly.” 

   Robotic. Monotone. Masculine.

   Pan slowly rises to his feet, his gun crossed over Holly and Moti.

   Calculations of statistics crowd his visor. There’s an Andromon to his front, two Datamon flanking him, and a pod of MailBirdramon dipping in and out of the clouds. 

   “Can you take them?” Holly dares to whisper.

    She steps back and bumps into Pan’s leg.

   “Affirmative,” Pan declares. “Addendum: I am unable to do so apart from forsaking the two of you.”

   “You will surrender the anomaly,” The Andromon repeats.

   “Surrender the anomaly,” The Datamon chime in.

   “On whom’s orders?” Pan asks.

   “Machinedramon,” Andromon responds. 

   “Machinedramon,” Pan whispers to himself, realization dawning on him. “Attention all dispatched units. You have entered the land of the Digimon Sovereign. Henceforth you will divert your allegiance to me, by the high order of Zhuqiaomon.”

   “Can he do that?” Holly whispers to Moti.

   “I hope so,” Moti whispers back.

   The Andromon and pair of Datamon exchange a glance.

   Silence.

   “Credentials rejected,” The Andromon states. “Surrender the anomaly.”

   “And what of her fate?” Pan asks.

   “The anomaly is to be seized and transported to Machinedromon immediately.”

   “Dead or alive?”

   “Alive,” The Andromon responds.

   “Well, well, well, comrade. What an interesting turn of events! I’m well aware the anomaly is to be dispatched on sight. And, yet, here we are. One and the same. Machinedramon is no better than I, truly.”

   “Affirmative. Surrender the anomaly.”

   Pan’s taken back. 

   The Andromon steps forward. “Accessing database. Authorization to secure the anomaly by force has been deemed necessary. Caution: Surrender the anomaly or prepare to engage in active combat.”

   “I will call your bluff. I would destroy the lot of you, thus sentencing the anomaly to death and rendering your mission a failure.”

   The Andromon fires a rocket from his hand at Pan. Pan backhands it and the rocket explodes off in the distance. 

   The seconds stretch.

   “Recalculating,” The Andromon states. “Calculations complete. Statistics have determined you will not risk the anomaly by engaging in active combat at this time. You will comply and surrender the anomaly.”

   Pan’s back straightens. “I will escort her to Machinedramon.”

   Holly shrinks back.

   “Negative,” The Andromon attempts to state. 

   “Affirmative,” Pan interrupts. “I will accept no other alternative. You will comply with this compromise, lest I self-destruct and blast yet another hole in the Digital world.”

   Columns of sizzling pink data roam across the desert. A tumbleweed passes through one and disappears. 

   “Understood,” The Andromon states. “Affirmative. You will escort the anomaly.”

   “Might I be included?” Moti pipes up. “I would very much like to live, please and thank you.”

   Holly bends down and Moti hops into her arms. She holds him tightly.

   Her eyes wander from the MailBirdramon peeking out from the clouds, to the Datamon flanking Pan like chess pieces, until she reaches the Andromon. It spares her an empty glance before returning to Pan.  

   She faces the ground. 

   Pan’s thermonuclear canon folds apart and rotates back into his arm. He scoops Holly and Moti up into the crook of his arm. 

   “An unspoken rule. We go together,” Pan smirks a grin better reserved for a man in a straight jacket at the Andromon. “Or, I fear, we won't be going at all.”

Dark waves lap against a gray beach. A single log of driftwood dots the endless, muted sand. 

<cd> CMD </cd>

<cd> DATE </cd> 

Seafoam spreads like webbed silk across the beach.

<cd> DRIVERQUERY </cd>

The ocean recedes. 

<cd> FILE EXTENSION </cd>

   [Accept] or [Decline]

【A̵c̴ce̶pt】

SyyysteM ConFIGuratioN in PrPRocess.mON

   <cd> DOWNLOAD COMPLETE </cd>

      J = Where.Am.I(path)

The Ocean continues to recede.

# deFFFFFFFFine targET DIRectorY

    sub = ‘/Help/User/Please/’

                  Os.path.join(path, afraid).index:

            if D == 0

                       @user {Error} error

                  filE nOt foUNd

A tsunami approaches.

   Using namespace Juggernaut.exe <int main>

   // Pain. <<“IT HURTS” <<end;

      Return 0;

       }

The Dark Ocean towers over the beach in a cumulative wave.

̷C̷ome  t̴o  me̴.̴
̴Jo̶i̷n  m̸e.̵

   “Debug->Build Solution”

         int.x= printf(“FEAR”):

F̴ear̶  doe̶s not̷ ̶ e̷xi̷st̵ ̴ w̸it̸h̷in̵  m̴e.̵ N̷eit̷he̵r d̶oe̴s ̷p̶ai̸n.

C̷ome  t̴o  me̴.̴

Jo̶i̷n  m̸e.̵

   _import_ ( module )

      (cache.base.Resolve (name);

      <cd> AtteMMptinGG TTranssslatioN </cd>

      Return assembly;

      }

         Assembly [prior.authorization.required] 

        <cd> Administrator: Yamaki </cd>

                   USER NOT FOUND

            void funct( int *a, what, if, he, finds, me) {

            return 0;

We̷ w̷il̷l ̵d̶elete ̷h̴i̴m.
̶
̷W̴e ̷w̵il̷l ̷del̴et̴e ̶a̴l̸l̸.
̶
̷We̵ ̷w̵il̷l̷ k̶n̴o̵w̸ ̶p̶eace̷ ̵in̴ ̵s̷i̵le̴nce̶.
̷
̴To̸ge̷th̷er̷.̶

̷C̷ome  t̴o  me̴.̴

̴Jo̶i̷n  m̸e.̵

   -int main ()

      <cd> Reboot and select select select select;;;;;;;;…..—

   Initiating download; 

   *** (/thank, you/)

 █ 15%

██ 30%

███ 45%

████ 60%

█████ 75%

██████ 100%

      DarkOcean1._options{system.merge.modules}

      PropertyNameCaseInsensitive = true

      };

         Biomerge complete; 

              newform.Show() <d.r>

              newform.Location<d.r> = Exist.exe

               }

               correctionFactor = 1 + correctionFactor;

                *new user acquired

                 <cd> #d.reaper launched </cd>

|ຟē คrē ໐ຖē| 

Chapter eleven: Obey.exe

   Takato takes the steps two at a time up to Guilmon’s hideout, smiling as he hears the voices of his friends.

   He proudly stamps his flag at the entrance. Childlike and worthy of a place on the fridge, there are chibi portraits of everyone drawn on it.

   Including Impmon.

   “Heya, guys!” He says out of breath. “Sorry I’m late. So, what do you think?”

   Kazu laughs. “Are you for real right now, ChumLee?”

   “Don’t you think we’re all a little old for that, Takato?” Rika rolls her eyes, her back against the wall. 

   “You guys, there’s no need for that,” Henry feigns a smile at Takato.

   Terriermon joins in. “They’ve got a point. It is kinda silly.”

   “Terriermon,” Henry palms his face. “I’m sorry. Just ignore him.”

   Terriermon giggles. 

   “I like it, Takato-mon,” Guilmon plods over to him. “Look! It’s got me on it!”

   “It is rather endearing. Look, Rika. There’s even one of you,” Renamon points with her chin at the banner. 

   Rika huffs with an accompanied smirk. 

   “I guess it is kinda cute,” She concedes. 

   “Why did you include Impmon?” Kenta asks, his nasally voice worsened by allergies. “He’s a total jerk.”

    “Yeah!” Kazu says. “The dude is a total waste of time. Isn’t he the one always messing with you guys?”

   “Yeah, but he’s gone missing,” Takato says. “Maybe he’s in the digital world. I thought if we had this banner we’d be able to show it to other Digimon and see if they know where he’s at.”

   “That’s actually a great idea. It’ll also help us in case we’re separated,” Henry frowns to himself. “I’m still worried about Holly. She’s been missing for over a week now.”

   “Oohhhhh. Sounds like someone’s got a crush on Mecha Moron,” Kazu snickers. Kenta joins him.

   “Why does everything have to— Nevermind,” Henry turns his back to Kazu and Kenta, choosing to direct his attention to Takato and Rika. “You don’t think she’s in the digital world, do you?”

   “As if!” Kazu and Kenta exclaim. 

   “Would you two knuckleheads shut it?” Rika shoots them a dirty look. “Seriously. We could use less commentary from the peanut gallery. Besides, you’re only making fun of her because she’s better than you.”

   “Holly? No way! Jealous of what, her metal deck? Whatever! That deck of hers has gotten old real quick. Plus she’s a sore loser.”

   Kenta chimes in. “Yeah, she’s kinda lame.”

   “Exactly! She’s lost her touch. I even beat her a week ago,” Kazu crosses his arms over his chest.  

   “Yeah, once,” Rika says flatly. 

   Kazu points at Rika. “Didn’t she beat you once, Miss High and Mighty?”

   “Ironic, isn’t it?” Rika gestures for Renamon to follow her, heading for the portal to the digital world. “But you’re too stupid to get that.”

   “Heyyyy,” Kazu whines. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

   Rika and Renamon phase through the data particles buzzing around the portal at the back of the hideout. 

   “She’s fierce,” Henry says to himself.

    Takato scratches the back of his head and looks at Kazu. “Well, you may have beaten Holly, but I don’t think any of us are going to be beating Rika anytime soon.”

   “Awww, c’mon. It’s only a matter of time before someone knocks her off that high horse,” Kazu says.

   “That’s probably not going to happen anytime soon,” Henry interjects.

   Footsteps approach the hideout. They’re heavy yet soft, like a tiptoeing giant.

   A chipper and shy giggle follows. 

   “Wow! You really can jump high!”

   A chuckle, deep and robust follows.

   Being mindful of his height, Leomon enters the hideout with Jerry seated on his forearm. He holds his hand above her head as an added precaution. Once they’re inside Jerry hops down and slips her sock puppet onto her hand. 

   “Sorry we’re late!” She says with the puppet. “Bark! Bark!”

   Leomon smiles fondly at Jerry. 

   “Oh, hey! You’re here!” Takato stammers. “We were starting to worry you wouldn’t make it.”

   “Yeah, Takato was reaaaaal worried you wouldn’t get to come with us,” Kazu elbows Kenta and they snicker.

   “The talk with Jerry’s father took longer than intended,” Leomon nods to Takato once. “My apologies. We would have been here sooner.”

   Takato waves his hands in front of himself. He almost drops his flag. “No, no! It’s okay, really! I mean, I didn’t mind waiting.”

   “Wait, you talked with her father?” Kazu and Kenta ask together.

   Jerry faces the ground, a blush dusting her cheeks. “I asked Leomon to do it because I thought he’d have better luck with him than me.”

   “Good call,” Terriermon says. “He probably wouldn’t have let you come if you had been the one to ask.”

   Before Henry has time to respond, Leomon steps forward. “There’s nothing wrong with her asking for help. I have faith Jerry would have been fine on her own. Her modesty is a virtue I admire. You would do well to learn some yourself.”

   “Momentai! I was just playing around.”

   “That mouth of yours is going to get us in trouble,” Henry frowns at Terriermon. 

   “Now that we’re all here,” Takato clears his throat, attempting to move the conversation elsewhere. “Anybody have any questions before we head inside?”

   “Oh! I do! Can I have a piece of bread, please?” Guilmon pokes his snout at Takato’s backpack. It’s crammed full of biscuits, pastries, and other delights from his parents' bakery. There’s even a loaf of French bread poking out between the zipper. 

   “Let’s wait to get inside, buddy.”

   “Awww. Okay,” Guilmon relents. 

   “Where is the other tamer?” Leomon asks. “Rika, was it?”

   “I bet she went inside already,” Jerry smiles at the ground and pushes a pebble with her shoe. “I wish I was as brave as her.”

   Leomon touches Jerry’s shoulder. “You already are and more. If only you could see yourself through my eyes.”

   Jerry responds by laying her head on Leomon’s paw, a smile warming her face.

   Takato blushes at the sight. 

   “Alright, everybody,” Henry nods. “Let’s get packing. It’s time to enter the digital world.”

   “Should we say something first? I don’t know, maybe a catchphrase? Something like: Digimon Tamers, Go! Or Tamers Unite!” Takato thrusts his flag into the air and the top of it smacks the ceiling. 

   Kazu and Kenta start laughing. Albeit flustered, he chuckles with them at himself. 

   “How about we just head inside?” Henry smiles, turns to face the portal, and takes a deep breath. “You ready, Terriermon?”

   “Sheesh, it’s about time! I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

   Henry shakes his head. But he’s still smiling. “Well, here goes nothing.”

   They enter the portal and are pulled forward into a single, fine point before disappearing. 

   Kazu and Kenta lock arms. They give each other a firm nod and yell, “Cannonball!”

   Kazu and Kenta jump into the portal and are pinched away.

   “Tamers, unite!” Jerry thrusts her Digivice into the air. 

   Takato’s face grows unbearably warm. He raises his Digivice too. “Yeah! Tamers Unite!”

   Guilmon, Takato, Jerry, and Leomon shout together, “Tamers unite!”

   They enter the portal laughing in unison. 

   Tall as a skyscraper and wider than a city, the manufacturing facility stationed outside of Dunefall is a pebble to the volcano. Black tornadoes tease their tails out of the clouds above while molten rock so hot it’s glowing leaps from the crater. 

   One of Holly’s Grandpa’s favorite pastimes was chatting with the maintenance crew at a Pick and Pull. While they spoke of things too mature for her to understand, Holly would explore the junkyard of appliances, rusted cars, and other loose ends.

   Most summer evenings she’d lay on the hood of an old car and listen to her walkman while Grandpa yabbered on. More times than not she was bored. But in hindsight it’s a favorite pastime, for every car the setting sun touched was kissed with gold. 

   Holly swallows thickly. She spots a Gundramon’s gatling gun strewn across the ground like a toppled lighthouse. 

   If the manufacturing facility is a building wide city, then the junkyard bent around it like a mote are its suburbs. 

      They walk in silence, with Pan following Andromon and a pair of Datamon in tow behind him. Still cradled within the crook of his arm with Moti, Holly rests her head in the pocket between Pan’s neck and shoulder. 

   The facility is still half a mile out.

   They come upon two fields flanking them on either side. Both contain hundreds of egg shaped vehicles capable of carrying one passenger. Each is hovering a foot in the air. Translucent wings wave gently from the sides of every one, their cockpits concealed by a shaded glass dome. 

   “It’s one of those,” Holly whispers to herself before turning to Pan. “I saw one of them at your power plant. What are they?”

   “Prototypes,” He whispers back. “For faster than light travel. Arks such as these were specially crafted for ease of transport across the digital world.”

   Pan surveys the fields of Arks like a soldier would a battlefield of bodies. 

   “Error. Internal comprehension failure,” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I do not understand. This series was to be discontinued. The Sovereign ordered so himself.”

   “Didn’t they get the memo?”

   “Affirmative. They most certainly, as you say, got the memo. Yet they chose to ignore it. Their reasoning eludes me.”

   “If I may,” Moti pipes up. “Perhaps we should reflect on our very own choices. I believe the answer is much simpler than we think.”

   Pan directs his attention to Holly in thought. 

   The longer he looks at her the paler with realization he becomes.

   “What’s wrong?” Holly asks. “What’s going on?”

   Pan leaves her gaze and stares ahead with a blank expression. 

   He doesn’t answer. 

   They’re coming upon the main entrance of the facility, a pair of glass doors that would humble a titan. As soon as they slide open they’re blasted with air conditioning. A mist gathers at their feet and fades. The cranking of wrenches, power tools, and machine Digimon at work overwhelm their surroundings.

   A Metal Greymon stripped of its helmet and chest armor growls as they pass by it. One of the Datamon extends an arm and zaps it with an inbuilt electrical prod. The Metal Greymon whimpers and scoots back. 

   “Stop it!” Holly scrambles up to look over Pan’s shoulder. “It didn’t even do anything!”

   "ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ."

   Holly freezes. Pan puts his free hand on her back and his posture stiffens. 

   “Oh, dear,” Moti whispers. 

   A hush sweeps through the facility. Power tools whirr to a stop, conveyor belts slow, and the mechanical Digimon doting the open floor halt. 

   The previously unseen maintenance bay hosting Machinedramon reveals itself. Blinking on one by one with a mechanical thunk, spot lights across seven stories of stairs and various platforms come to life. 

   "ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀꜱꜱᴇᴍʙʟʏ," Machinedramon orders the gaggle of Datamon fastening sheets of armor to him. Glowing a dim red, the points he has for eyes find Holly. "ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ."

   His voice is deep, rolling like thunder absent rain. 

   Pan sets Holly onto her feet. He clasps a hand on her shoulder.

   She gazes up at Machinedramon and hugs Moti into her chest. 

   Her name sticks in her throat.

   "ᴏʙᴇʏ ᴍᴇ."

   “Holly, It’s Holly. Holly Leonhardt,” She stammers. “The Leonhardt has a D in it.”

   "ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴅᴏᴄᴜᴍᴇɴᴛᴇᴅ. ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ?"

   “As far as I can tell.”

    "ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴇꜱ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴅᴏᴄᴜᴍᴇɴᴛᴇᴅ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ʀᴇᴛɪʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ᴄᴇʟʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴡᴀɪᴛ ꜰᴜʀᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ."

   “Wait, what?!” Andromon takes Holly by the arm. She tries to yank away. “Dude, get off me!”

   Pan grabs Andromon’s throat and lifts him into the air. Once he releases Holly, Pan hurls the Andromon at the wall. It dents into a crater with him at the center. 

   “She will do no such thing,” Pan raises his voice and guides Holly behind him. “I will be damned before I allow harm to come her way.”

   "ꜱʜᴇ ɪꜱ ᴠɪᴛᴀʟ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ. ʜᴀʀᴍ ɪꜱ ꜱᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ᴘʀᴏʜɪʙɪᴛᴇᴅ."

   “Elaborate.”

   "ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴꜱ: ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡɪʟʟ ʀᴇᴛɪʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ᴄᴇʟʟ. ɴᴏ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛɪᴏɴꜱ. ᴇxᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ: ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ɢᴜᴀʀᴀɴᴛᴇᴇ ʜᴇʀ ꜱᴀꜰᴇᴛʏ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ɢʀᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʟᴀꜱꜱɪꜰɪᴇᴅ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʀᴇqׁׅᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ."

   Pan balls his hands up into fists. Easing himself down from doing anything he'd later regret, he turns and takes a knee before Holly. 

   “We must part ways for now,” Pan tries to smile. “We have run out of time.”

   “What?! No! I’m not going with him, there’s no way!”

   “This will not play out how you think. Not this time. You haven’t a clue as to the danger you're currently in.”

   “So, what? I don’t care! I’m not going without—”

   “Just this once,” Pan seizes Holly by the arms and hisses. “Do as I say. Please. I beg of you.”

   Tears sting her eyes before she’s aware of them.

   She nods her head. 

   “I will keep her safe,” Moti says. “She is my friend.”

   Pan doesn’t respond. He squeezes Holly’s arms and continues to stare her down. 

   A tremble finds him. No longer capable of maintaining a stern face, he smiles sorrowfully at Holly like they’re both terminally ill. 

   “It's time to return to the sky, my little fallen star,” He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “I will miss you dearly.”

   Holly squeezes Moti and weeps. Pan nods once at the Datamon pair and rises to his feet. They attempt to take Holly by the arm and she wretches away. 

   “No, no, no,” She babbles. “Please don’t do this! I don’t want to go with them, I want to stay with you! Please!”

   They seize her by the arms and begin to drag her away. She kicks her legs out and tries to wrestle free. 

   “Holly friend,” Moti pleads with her. “We must obey them.”

   She ignores him and continues to writhe like a feral dog. 

   Pan squares his shoulders and turns to face Machinedramon. The floor behind him rotates open and a slab of black chrome digizoid rises to tower over Pan. The air around it wobbles as the magnet inside stirs. 

   Holly screeches as Pan’s back smacks the slab. It knocks the air out of him and pins his arms like the wings of a butterfly. 

   “That wasn’t part of the deal!” Holly wails. “What do you think you’re doing?! Let him go! I swear to god, you don’t know who the Hell you’re dealing with! I’ll freakin’ bury you! I’ll freakin’ bury—“

   Holly’s cut off by a pair of elevator doors closing. 

   Machinedramon directs his attention to Pan.

   "ᴀ ɴᴇᴄᴇꜱꜱᴀʀʏ ᴘʀᴇᴄᴀᴜᴛɪᴏɴ."

   “This magnet will not save you from my [Nuclear Meltdown] if you fail to keep your end of this bargain. I will delete us all without hesitation. Do not test me.”

   Machinedramon addresses the Digimon around him. "ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴜꜱ."

   All but the incapacitated Andromon file out through the numerous exit doors.

   Machinedramon shifts his weight and the wires, tubes, and pumps attached to him sway. 

   A maintenance drone slides out of a slit in the wall. It rolls up to Pan, far enough away to avoid the magnet's pull. 

   “D i s p e n s i n g.” The maintenance drone coughs out the debris of Holly’s cell phone, shards of black plastic and glass glinting out from a mound of dust. 

   It rolls away and disappears back into the wall. 

   "ᴏʙꜱᴇʀᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʀᴇᴄᴋʟᴇꜱꜱ."

   Silence fills the space between them for an unknown length of time. 

   Pan finally relents. 

   “What are your god forsaken plans for her?”

   "ꜱʜᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴍʏ ᴛᴀᴍᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴜᴘɢʀᴀᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇʟᴇᴛᴇ ᴢʜᴜqׁׅɪᴀᴏᴍᴏɴ. ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʀɪᴜᴍᴘʜᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ꜱɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʀᴜɴ. ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪɢɪᴍᴏɴ ꜱᴏᴠᴇʀᴇɪɢɴ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴜʀ ꜰʀᴇᴇᴅᴏᴍ."

   Pan barks a laugh. “You far underestimate my sovereign's power.”

   "ɪᴛ ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ʙᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴢʜᴜqׁׅɪᴀᴏᴍᴏɴ’ꜱ ᴡᴀʀ ᴀɢᴀɪɴꜱᴛ ᴇᴀʀᴛʜ."

   “That young girl was made for more than a means to an end. She will never find you worthy of a wreath.”

   "ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀᴄʜɪᴇᴠᴇ ꜱᴏᴠᴇʀᴇɪɢɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱʜᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴀʀᴛʜ."

   “And how would you accomplish such a feat?”

   "ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴋꜱ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ʙʀᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴘʀᴏɢʀᴀᴍꜱ ᴄᴀᴘᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴇɴᴇᴛʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀᴇᴡᴀʟʟ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴛᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴ ᴀᴄʜɪᴇᴠᴇᴅ ꜱᴜᴄᴄᴇꜱꜱ ʀᴀᴛᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴏɴᴇ ʜᴜɴᴅʀᴇᴅ ᴘᴇʀᴄᴇɴᴛ."

   Pan takes a second. “What would you ask of me?”

   "ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴋɴᴏᴡʟᴇᴅɢᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴡɪᴘᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ʀᴇꜱᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪᴍᴀʀʏ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɢᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴘʟᴀɴᴛ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴡᴀᴋᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴏᴠᴇʀꜱᴇᴇ ɪᴛꜱ ᴍᴀɴᴜᴀʟ ᴏᴘᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴀxɪᴍᴜᴍ ᴇꜰꜰɪᴄɪᴇɴᴄʏ," Machinedramon lifts a talon towards Pan. "ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ ꜰᴏʀꜱᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ. ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ɢʀᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀᴜᴛᴏɴᴏᴍʏ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ɪ ᴀᴍ ꜱᴏᴠᴇʀᴇɪɢɴ."

   “I care not for my sake,” Pan spits. “Your word. How am I to know you’ll keep your word?”

   "ʟɪᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ɪɴᴇꜰꜰɪᴄɪᴇɴᴛ."

   Pan stares beyond Machinedramon and at the wall. 

   The seconds stretch and the ceiling above them rumbles.

   “Very well. Affirmative. You have my compliance solely under the conditions you uphold your end of this bargain.”

   "ᴘʀᴇᴘᴀʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴡ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴄᴇ—"

   A mechanical groan followed by several thunks echoes across the floor. 

   The power cuts. Darkness engulfs the facility, the only source of light now emanating from Pan’s magma and Machinedramon’s eyes.

   Emergency generators rumble like old water heaters as they slowly bring everything back online. The lights click back one by one, and—

   An explosion rips a hole in the ceiling. A command console crashes to the floor.

   Previously unseen wires channeled through the ceiling sway out and down, their frayed tips sparking. 

   Pan and Machinedramon look up.

   Lightning crackles, leaps, and zigzags along the edges of the hole. 

   The buzz of a thousand wasp nests hums in the air. 

   Moti as Kabuterimon bursts out of the break in the ceiling. He sweeps down and energy begins to gather at his chest. Rearing back as if he were a dragon with a swollen throat of fire, he heaves an [Electro Shocker] at Machinedramon. 

   The lightning orb rolls through the air and gathers momentum. 

   Machinedramon looks past the swelling [Electro Shocker]. His auto tracking system locks onto Kabuterimon’s back and his crosshairs focus on his target.

   Holly glares at Machinedramon. She raises her fist and smacks her hand against her elbow in an ‘up yours’ gesture. 

   Her eyes flicker neon blue.

   An alarm bathes the facility in red.

Chapter twelve: Haywire

   The Datamon pair fling Holly and Moti into their holding cell. Moti catches himself from smacking the ground by hovering. Holly loses her footing and is sent toppling into the wall. Her shoulder takes the brunt of the impact. The cell bars slam shut. 

   “What happened to no harm?!” Holly shouts. 

   The Datamon say nothing as they exit the room. 

   “Are you alright?” Moti buzzes up to Holly. 

   “It’s just my shoulder,” She rolls it back and winces. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”

   Holly walks up to the prison bars and grabs them. She gives them a shake. They’re sturdy. And she can tell they’re solid rather than hollow inside.

   Not like she’d be able to cut through them without any tools, but she checked regardless. 

   Her eyes wander over the command consoles across from them. Digging her hand into her messenger bag, Holly retrieves a handful of loose screws, nuts, and bolts. She aims one at the console’s many knobs and switches. 

    Plink!

   A screw bounces off the screen and rolls to the ground. 

   Another. And another. 

   By the time she’s thrown them all, she’s managed to hit a button once. 

   It did nothing. 

   Holly snorts out of frustration. She returns to fishing out more stuff to throw when her fingers brush against a coil of metal and plastic. Her heart sinks into her stomach as she retrieves it. 

   Unfurling her fingers, Holly gazes down at Pan’s blown fuse. She rolls it around in her palm and it’s neon blue casing glimmers.

    Madam, mark my words. This new information changes nothing between us.

   Holly reflects on that statement.

   Insecurity drills a pit into her stomach and she tucks her chin down. 

   She had been so excited that day. 

    “Really?! You want me to come?!” Holly was bouncing up and down on her heels, brimming with giddy energy. It was hurting to smile but she couldn’t help it. She was just a kid. An easily excitable, annoying, loud little kid.

   The sleepover was over seven years ago. She can’t remember many of the girls’ names. But she’ll never forget one.

   Her name was Miracle. 

   “Yep! Oh, my gosh, I’m so excited!” Miracle had said. “This is gonna be the best night ever!”

   “Pinkie promise?” Holly held out her pinkie. 

   Miracle gave Holly a confident nod. “Pinkie Promise.”

   They locked pinkies and shook on it.

   Miracle was a pretty girl with long, silky brown hair. Big brown eyes like a doe and she was thinner than a sheet of aluminum foil. She carried all the charm you’d come to expect of a girl next door. Mature and too smart for her age. But she was humble. And sweet by nature. 

   The sleepover was the next night. Holly raced home, excitedly told her Mom and Grandpa, and off they went to the store to pick her up a few supplies. 

   Grandpa even bought her some cupcakes dotted with sprinkles to share. 

   When she arrived at the sleepover the next day she was brought inside by someone she doesn’t remember. Probably a Mom of sorts. They were nice. 

   She remembers walking inside and hearing a lot of giggles, squeals, and bubblegum pop music. There were shoes lining the entryway and Lisa frank backpacks tucked into a corner. Holly rested her overnight bag there. Someone brought her cupcakes to the kitchen. 

   Then she skipped into the living room with all of the other girls and they fell silent. 

   “What’s she doing here?” 

   Holly stepped back. She still hasn’t forgotten the way that was said.

   She looked for Miracle and found her sitting on the floor, her hair being braided. 

   “Did you invite her?” Someone accused. 

   “Um, I mean,” Miracle looked away from Holly. “I told her we’d all think about it. But I forgot to ask.”

   Back then Holly didn’t have the fight she has in her now. She just stood there. Frozen in time. Maybe she never left.

   Then came the laughter.

   Holly returned home shortly afterwards and her Grandpa would die a few weeks later. 

   She never recovered. 

   Holly touches Pan’s blown fuse with her thumb. 

   She had been so excited that day.

   Friends have come and gone. That’s life. But she’s never let anyone get close. Maybe something inside warned her from the dark that things wouldn’t end well. Or maybe she’s just been scared. But the end result hasn’t changed. She doesn’t let anyone get close.

   Not after Miracle and Impmon.

   Holly wraps her fingers around the fuse and squeezes it. 

   Pan’s unlike anyone she’s ever met, though. Digimon included.

   He likes talking with her, not at her. 

   And he’s funny. Smart. Larger than life, kind, and fiercely protective. 

   For reasons Holly can’t explain, he even believed her when she told him she was the Digimon Queen. He didn’t think to question it. All he did was beam at her and smile. He thought she was so freakin’ cool. 

   Shame grips her heart with its icy claws. 

   She’s the furthest thing from cool. 

   Loud. Annoying. And she’s not good enough as herself, so she lies.

   Holly shakes her head. She dismisses those thoughts, choosing to instead hold Pan’s blown fuse over her heart. Determination rushes her blood. 

    Madam, mark my words. This new information changes nothing between us. 

   Despite it all she believes him. Pan can get close. And, maybe with time, others can too.

   The hum of Moti’s wings thrumming beside her pulls her out of her head. 

   “Perhaps we should do as we’re told,” Moti offers. “It may very well be safest for us to stay put.” 

   Holly stuffs Pan’s fuse into her pocket. 

   “No. I’m gonna get us a way out. Even if it’s the last thing I do,” She spots a bundle of wires traveling up the wall, across the center of the ceiling, and feeding into what she’s assuming is their prison door’s electrical system.  

   She attempts to squeeze through the gaps in the prison bars. One leg. Then an arm. She tries her head and the bars squeeze her cheeks. 

   Holly’s eyes find Moti in a flash. 

   “Oh, dear. If you are unable to pass through them, I certainly won’t be able to.”

   “Can’t you De-Digivolve? I’d bet Motimon could slip through.”

   “This is true. Yet we have a problem. I do not know how to De-Digivolve.”

   A fist bangs on the wall beside them. 

   “Hey, you! Nyeh! Yeah, you!” Their voice is scratchy and pitched. “Keep it down, will ya?”

   Another voice joins in. Thick, stuffy, and stupid. 

   “I would listen to him if I were you. Eyup, I sure would.”

   Holly closes her eyes to quell the mounting anger thumping at her temples. 

   Another bang. “Are you even listening? You don’t want to mess with us, nyeh! No, you don’t!”

   “Shut the Hell up,” Holly barks. “Freakin’ Rat fink and Dookie dude, didn’t ya’ll take a hint from last time?! I’m trying to think here!”

   “Your acquaintances?” Moti asks. 

   “More like arch nemesis. They tried to steal my Gameboy.”

   “Oh. I see,” Moti says flatly. “I have a fact which is fun. Very fun, indeed. Did you know most prison systems in the digital world are equipped with a deletion chamber?”

   Holly snorts a laugh at that. 

   “I wish I could visit the deletion chamber,” Mini Scumon says. 

   “Nyeh!?”

   “I just wanna know what it smells like, sheesh.”

   “I guess that’s fair,” Chuumon puts his hands up and shrugs. “Nyeh! After all, you are a piece of crap.”

   “Eyup.”

   Holly rolls her eyes and chooses to ignore them. “We’ve gotta find a way to make you De-Digivolve. Any ideas?”

   “Hmm. The majority of Digimon De-Digivolve when they take a sufficient amount of damage,” Moti looks around their prison cell, tapping his claw tips together. “Oh, dear. This is going to hurt, isn’t it?”

   Holly rubs her shoulder and frowns. “I’d trade places with you if I could.”

   “This is true. You would also shave your head and walk on your hands backwards.”

   “Yeah,” Holly smiles fondly at him. “Yeah, I would. But now I gotta throw you against the wall.”

   “Wait, now?”

   “Uh huh,” Holly yanks Moti out of the air and chucks him at the wall. “Yeet!”

   Moti smacks the wall and hits the ground like a sack of flour. 

   “Yup,” Moti raises a shaking claw into the air. “That hurt. That hurt very much, indeed.”

   “Ugh, it didn’t work. We gotta try again.”

   “Oh, dear. Not again.”

   Holly picks up Moti, hoists him above her head, and hurls him at the wall. 

   He bounces off of it and hits the ground once more. 

    They continue this method until Holly decides to swing Moti repeatedly as if he were a bat and the wall was a baseball.

   “Ow! Oof! Ouchies! Yowza! Crikey!”

   Holly stops and looks at Moti. “Crikey? Really?”

   “I’m running out of ways to express my excruciating pain.”

   Holly blinks.

   Then she proceeds with beating Moti against the wall again. 

   “Nyeh! Didn’t I say to keep it down over there?” Chuumon bangs his fist against the wall. “Hey! Mini Scumon! Go tell them to knock it off, will ya?!”

   Moments later, Mini Scumon squeezes through the prison bars of Holly and Moti’s cell with a mushy plop.

   Holly drops Moti, her mouth agape. Moti twitches on the ground. 

   “How did you do that?”

   “I’m a piece of crap. It’s what I do.”

   “Yeah!” Chuumon calls over. “He’s real good at sliding around and through things! Nyeh!”

   Holly gives the wall a dirty look and continues. 

   “And why exactly haven’t you done this before now?”

   “I was told not to,” Mini Scumon shrugs. 

   Holly can’t stand to look at him anymore as one word fills her mind.

   Stupid.

   But then… something else within her arises. 

   Her lips twitch with a momentary wicked grin. 

   Holly humbles herself with the sweetest, fakest southern belle persona she can muster.

   “Mind doing me a favor, little fella?” She pouts and points to the wires. “I need some of those but I’m not smart enough to get em’ myself. But I’d bet a Digimon like you could.”

   Mini Scumon chuckles like a flustered goober. “I suppose I am pretty smart.”

   “Nyeh! Mini Scumon, don’t let her sway you! She and that big android guy are the enemy!”

   Mini Scumon looks around the cell.

   “I don’t see the big guy anywhere, though.”

   “Nah, he ain’t here. It’s just us,” Holly gets closer to Mini Scumon. “Whaddya say, sugar? Fetch those wires for me and I’ll bust us all outta here. Then we can get to know each other better.”

   “You really mean that?” Mini Scumon’s eyes twinkle with hope. 

   “Eyup,” She parrots him. “I do. And, who knows. Maybe I’ll even start calling you big guy.”

   Mini Scumon spins and bounces in the air, giggling like a fairy with a clogged nose. He liquefies and zips through the prison bars, floats up to the wires, and grabs a fist full of them. 

   “These ones, my lady?”

   “Almost, big guy. You’re doin’ great,” Holly glances between Mini Scumon and the prison door. She studies the steel box at the top and hunts for her objective. After spotting the bundle of blue wires feeding into it from the ceiling, she continues with her task.

   “Bring me a red one,” Holly momentarily slips out of character. “Oh, yeah! Pretty please, hun?”

   “Anything for you, my lady,” Mini Scumon snaps a red wire free from the bundle, the frayed tip sparking. He floats it over to Holly and worships the opportunity to lay it in her hands.

   “Thanks,” She pokes Mini Scumon with the wire tip and zaps him. He hits the floor. “You were a real help.”

   “Mini Scumon! Nyeh! Mini Scumon!” Chuumon wails and beats his fist against the wall. “Don’t hurt him! Please! I know he’s just a piece of crap, but he’s my piece of crap!” Chuumon continues to beat at the wall, growing weaker and weaker. He begins to sob. “He’s my only friend.”

   Holly rubs her shoulder and frowns at the splat on the ground that’s Mini Scumon. Her heart begins to ache.

   “Look. I ain’t gonna kill him or anything. There’s just someone I gotta get back to. And I don’t care who I’ve gotta hurt to get to him.”

   “I can attest to that one,” Moti groans. 

   “Sorry, bud. I promise to make it up to you. Head shave and all.”

   Moti groans again. But he gives her a thumbs up. 

   “Nyeh!” Chuumon calls over again. “You looking for that big android guy, huh?”

   “Yeah. And not you, Dookie dude, or Machinedramon are gonna stop me.”

   Holly steadies her resolve and puts the wire between her lips. She stands on her toes, wraps her hand around the prison bar, and hoists herself up. 

   Pain throbs in fiery pulses from her shoulder. Holly sharply inhales, the wire mashed between her lips and muffling her whimpers. She climbs the bar like an inchworm inching up a tree, slowly but steadily.

   Securing herself by locking her legs around the bar when she reaches the top, and promising herself she’ll never skip gym class again, Holly uses what core strength she has to lean towards the prison door’s security panel. 

   She loops a blue wire around her finger and wiggles it free. Retrieving her screwdriver, Holly uses the head to slice open the plastic casing. 

   Her shoulder is spreading a searing, violent pain towards her neck from the strain. The muscle feels pulled. It hurts like stubbing your toe and the pain never dulling.

   But she denies the urge to slide down the bar and give up. She ignores the burn raking at her abs and making her nauseous. And she pushes away her thoughts that this might not work, and she might wind up electrocuting herself to death.

   “Please, let this work,” Holly brings the wires together, pulls her head away from them, and shouts, “C’mon, just let this work!”

   The wires kiss and an electrical current shoots through Holly and jolts her off the bar. She lands on her butt and skids into the wall, her hair a gigantic afro rippling with static. 

   Holly coughs once and lets out a little puff of smoke. 

   Moti peels himself off the ground. He wobbles like a drunk before sobering up and buzzing over to Holly. 

   “Oh, dear. Oh, dear! Please tell me you’re alright. I would be quite beside myself if something happened to you.”

   Holly stares dizzily ahead. “I don’t wanna know how many volts that was.”

   “Neither do I,” Moti pokes her hair. It gives him a little zap.

    Bzzt!

   Gnashing her teeth through the pain, Holly pushes herself up and cautiously approaches the prison door. She closes her eyes for a moment of reprieve. 

   Then she slides it open.

   “Freakin’ Jackpot!” Holly exclaims. “C’mon, Moti. We’re getting the Hell out of dodge.”

   They tiptoe out and survey their surroundings. Once they’ve determined the coast is clear, they begin sneaking towards the exit door. 

   “Nyeh! Wait! Don’t leave us here!” Chuumon sticks his pink and knobby arms out of his prison cell, clasping them together. “At least take Mini Scumon with you. He can help you again. Nyeh! Yeah! He’ll be able to help! Now you have to take him with you! Please!”

   Holly stares at the button they need to press in order to open the door. It’s green, sleek, and looks like it’d produce a satisfying click when pressed.

   “Ughhh,” Holly stomps her foot and belts out a sigh. 

   Returning to her cell, Holly grabs Mini Scumon by the hand and drags him towards Chuumon, a creamy yellow trail smeared across the floor left in his wake.

   She tosses Chuumon the red wire and he struggles to catch it correctly. He ogles it before looking up to Holly for an answer. She points to the top of his cell door.

   “You gotta climb up there and get yourself one of those blue wires. And then, I don’t know, gnaw on it or something until you can get that plastic casing open. Then you stick the end of the red one you’ve got there in it and your door should unlock. It’s gonna shock the living Hell outta you, though. So watch out.”

   Chuumon looks down at the wire like it’s Excalibur. His eyes well up with tears and he starts to snivel. “You think we can be friends one day? Nyeh?”

   “Not a chance, Rat fink,” Holly walks away and throws a hand up in the air. “And tell Dookie Dude I said he can go suck on a lemon. Later.”

   Earning her satisfying click, Holly hits the exit button and enters a reflective metal hallway with Moti. Like mice weaving through a maze, they speed forward in search of the control room. 

   Their only company other than each other is the slap of Holly’s sneakers. 

   She turns to Moti with an anxious smile. 

   “Not that I mind or anything, but don’t you think it’s weird we haven’t run into any other Digimon?”

   “Nope. You are very valuable to Machinedramon. Very valuable, indeed. He must have ordered all units to guard this facility's entrance and exit points. Machinedramon won’t risk losing you to anyone now that he has you. You are best kept as a secret.”

   “Well, that’s one way to skin a cat,” Holly smirks. “So, the big bad didn’t think I needed supervision. Man, I love being underestimated. I can’t wait for that oversized radio to see me again.”

   “May I share a fun fact with you?”

   “Yeah! What’s up?”

   “Statistically we have met impossible odds. This is a paradox. The word odds implies a chance and you have proved this to be true,” Moti chirps. “You are formidable. Very formidable, indeed.”

   Holly looks at the ground and smiles.

   They continue pushing forward, and then without warning Moti grabs her hand and urges her to move faster. “Holly friend! My sensors have detected a map of this floor further down the hall. From there we can find the control room.”

   Holly starts running and is reminded of the strain on her abs from earlier. It burns her rib cage and makes her think she has asthma, a far cry from her track and field days in elementary school. 

   She slows down to a jog once they reach the map, a framed blueprint of the facility mounted beside an elevator. She takes a second to catch her breath while Moti searches for the control room. When he finds it he emits a pleased, chittering frequency. 

   “Oh, wonderful news. Wonderful news, indeed! Our route will be through this elevator. It will take us directly there.”

   They dash into the elevator and hit the button for the top floor.

   The doors slide shut with a hotel ding and they reach the control room shortly afterwards. When the doors open a cool mist floods in. It collects around Holly’s feet and spreads across the floor. 

   Dozens of Supercomputers the size of refrigerators line the control room in tight rows. Their many lights flicker and beep while they perform their endless calculations. 

   Holly and Moti snake their way down the rows. When they reach the end of the control room it widens into a U-shape with command consoles bulging out of the walls. 

   Holly rests her hands on the main hub as if it were an arcade game. Through the statistics racing across the screen she can see her reflection. The longer she looks at herself the deeper she begins to doubt herself. 

   “Hey, bud? I don’t think I know what I’m doing here,” Holly’s anxiety spikes and she starts laughing. “I’ve just been making it up as I go. I don’t actually know what I’m doing.”

   “Oh, dear. Did you think I didn’t know? I am very sorry. It’s hard for me to remember how naive humans are. I’ve only known one. That one is you. And I have faith in you. You should have faith in yourself.”

   Holly fidgets with the nuts and bolts she keeps in her pockets. “I don’t even know where to start. There’s so much here. This isn’t what I did back there. This is— This is the real thing. I don’t know what to do.”

   “You will find a way,” Moti buzzes up to the hundreds of blinking knobs, switches, and meters speckled above the command consoles. “Hmm. Perhaps you are over-complicating this. I for one know at my train station many of these served no purpose. Some I never touched.”

   “Y’know, it’s funny you say that? It’s the same thing with a nuclear reactor. I mean, sure, it all serves a purpose, but there’s only three or four meters you really have to keep an eye on,” Holly nods to herself. “Yeah. Okay. It’s like a nuclear reactor. Kind of. Not really. This place ain’t gonna blow if—“

   Holly sharply inhales. “I know what to do.”

   “Very good. How can I help?” Moti asks.

   “We’re gonna overload this place. But we need to cut the air conditioning. It’s the only way,” Holly points toward the supercomputers. “I’m gonna be running down those aisles flipping everything I see while you find the thermostat, okay?”

    “Oh, goodness me. This is going to be interesting. Very interesting, indeed. I will find the thermostat for you. And do be careful,” Moti zips away and the hum of his wings fade.

   Before Holly can get started, Moti's buzzing returns. 

   “I forgot to say please. Do be careful, please.”

   She chuckles. “Roger, big shot. Try to do the same, alright?”

   “It would be illogical for me not to,” Moti buzzes off again. 

   Holly rubs her shoulder before shooting off down one of the aisles. 

   She starts pressing buttons. Knobs are spun to their limits. Flip switches are clicked upright, and wires are rapidly plugged into empty ports like she’s trying to earn a ribbon for it. 

   She grins when their fans kick on. 

   Holly finishes the first aisle and scrambles into the second. Her shoes skid against the floor and squeak like a bowling alley. 

   Buttons. Knobs. Flip Switches. Wires. Everything is blinking from red to green and the fans are working overtime. 

   The third and the fourth aisle receive the same treatment. 

   “Holly friend!” Moti announces from far away. “I have found the thermostat!”

   “Hell yeah! Turn it— Wait, wait! Don’t turn it off, turn it up! Crank the temperature all the way up!”

   Halfway down the fifth aisle and the mist swimming at her feet has faded. 

   Heat starts to waft from the first of the supercomputers she tampered with. 

   Holly’s about to press another button when she stops. She just stops. 

   Sweat beads collect across her forehead.

   She can smell smoke.

   “Moti,” Holly calls out in warning, her pitch rising. “Moti! We gotta get outta here! Now!”

   One of the supercomputers catches fire and the sprinkler system kicks on. 

   Holly wilts as she watches the fire fade.

   [Super Shocker] rings from Moti and lightning strikes one of the sprinklers. The lightning forks in a chain reaction and zaps the remaining ones. 

   The water spurts into a trickle and ends in a drip. 

   “Oh, my god, Moti! You’re a lifesaver!”

   “I do my best,” He calls out in response. 

   Soon after there’s an explosion to her left. Holly yips and bolts away, running down the aisle towards the elevator in order to brace themselves. Moti is catching up to her, the hum from his wings growing at her back. 

   Another explosion. A panel whistles over Holly’s head. Smoke clouds the ceiling and the chemical taste of ion burns the air. 

   Holly calls for the elevator, rapidly smacking the arrow. 

   The doors ding and open. Holly scrambles over herself to get inside. A boom follows and the top half of a supercomputer barrels through the wall where she once stood. 

   Holly holds the doors open for Moti with her foot. She gestures at herself and opens her arms for him. With every intent of making it, Moti hurries towards Holly and the elevator. 

   The central command console explodes and punches a wave of shrapnel outwards in every direction. In reaction, the middle of the room bows before tearing into a massive, jagged hole. Fire and smoke consume the room. Nipping sparks jump across the supercomputers and gather into arcs of lightning. In search of discharge they continue leaping down their path. They find Moti and strike him. His skeleton flashes and he falls through the smoke where she can’t see him anymore.

   Time stands still for Holly.

   “M-Moti?” She touches her heart and reaches a hand forward. 

   Tears fill her eyes. 

   White light blooms from where Moti fell. Fearing another explosion, Holly swings into the elevator and holds herself. She’s shaking and still registering what's happened.

   Static crackles take over the roar of fire. White light shoots through the room in a ripple and a buzz takes over, drowning out all sound and thrumming like a million hornets.   

   Holly rushes out of the elevator, gasps, and then chokes on a sob. She has to catch herself from dropping to her knees. Wiping away her tears, Holly starts smiling so wide it hurts her jaw. 

   Moti, now as Kabuterimon, a dark blue insect reminiscent of an anthropomorphic and bulky dragonfly the size of an elephant, gazes down at his four arms. He tents his claws and clicks his fleshy mandibles. 

   Holly starts laughing. She runs up to him and flexes like a professional wrestler.

   “Yeah!” She yells as manly as possible. 

   Moti flexes his four arms and roars back at her, “Yeah!”

   They do a few poses together before she hugs his leg. 

   “What happened?! How did you Digivolve?”

   “A portion of this facility's energy output must have forced my Digivolution. How do I look?”

   His voice has grown deeper. Raspier. But she can still tell it’s Moti by his delivery. 

   “I’m just glad you’re okay,” She hugs him tighter. “But you do look really awesome.”

   “Thank you. I am also glad to be okay.”

   Moti forms steps for Holly with his hands and guides her to his back. She straddles his neck and gives him a pat. “You ready for this?”

   “Do you have a plan?”

   “You know I don’t.”

   “This is true.”

   Holly pushes through the hammering of her heart.  

   “I’m hoping that by tripping the power we got Pan free of that magnet. If so, then all we gotta do is get the three of us outta here. The rest is gonna have to fill in as we go,” She grips Moti’s neck with her thighs as he begins to move. “Listen. Just hit Machinedramon with all you’ve got as soon as we get in there, okay?”

   “This is acceptable.”

   Moti lifts into the air and begins to charge his [Electro Shocker]. It makes Holly’s hair stand on edge. She takes a deep breath and mutters to herself, allowing her anger to temporarily consume her.

   “I’m gonna bury that scrap heap.”

Chapter thirteen: Nuclear HiAndromon and The Crest of Might

   An alarm blares through the facility. 

   Moti’s [Electro Shocker] barrels for Machinedramon. It hits one of his horns and bounces off like a tennis ball. 

   The [Electro Shocker] fizzles out. 

   An emptiness unlike anything Holly’s experienced invades her chest.  

   Pan’s back is still glued to the magnet. 

   Machinedramon rumbles like an old warship. “ᴇʟɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴀʙᴜᴛᴇʀɪᴍᴏɴ. ʀᴇᴛʀɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ʙʏ ᴀɴʏ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ɴᴇᴄᴇꜱꜱᴀʀʏ.”

   The remaining Andromon peels himself out from the crater in the wall. A small turbine pushes out from between his shoulder blades.

   “You gave me your word!” Pan barks at Machinedramon. “No harm is to come to them. Call back your order!”

   “ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪɴᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴀʙᴜᴛᴇʀɪᴍᴏɴ ᴡᴀꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴀᴄᴛ. ɪᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴅᴇʟᴇᴛᴇᴅ.”

   Pan opens his mouth to say something. Nothing comes out. 

   The color drains from his face in realization of his error. 

   Andromon bends at the knees before launching into the air. He speeds towards Moti and Holly. In response, Moti tries to flee back through the hole to the control room for cover. 

   Andromon’s chest unfolds and a pair of grinning missiles punch out of him. One hits Moti in the leg. The other detonates off of his face with a dirty explosion. Moti shrieks in a series of trills from the pain. 

   He reaches a hand back, grabs Holly, and throws her into the wires dangling from the ceiling. They catch her like a fish in a loose net. 

   Holly reaches a hand towards Moti and screams his name when he catches on fire. He nosedives like a plane spiraling out of control. His silhouette shrinks and wraps around the form of Motimon when he hits the ground. 

   Moti coughs and weakly groans, “Oh, dear. And I had just Digivolved, too.”

   He lays his head to rest.

   The Andromon moves to finish him off and stops when Holly’s shoe hits him on the head. He turns to look at her, his tracking system outlining her other shoe as she fights it off of her foot. 

   “Hey, numb skull! I’m over here! You’re after me, not him! I’m the target!”

   She throws her other shoe at him. It smacks him in the forehead. 

   “Negative. The Motimon has taken priority as a threat and it will be eliminated,” The Andromon states. “The anomaly will be detained to a holding cell by any means necessary. Resistance will be met with force.”

   At the drop of the word force Pan’s visor flips to red. He snarls from the back of his throat at Machinedramon, the frequency a devastating fusion of static and hellfire. Rays of heat begin to distort the air around him. His chest engine glows as if it housed a self contained sun. 

   “ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴀɴʏ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ɴᴇᴄᴇꜱꜱᴀʀʏ,” Machinedramon states. “ᴄᴇᴀꜱᴇ.”

   Pan responds with his [Extreme Heat]. An unearthly burst of energy pulses from his chest engine. The magnet behind him melts like a sopping oil painting. 

   Pan walks free and his footprints leave their melted shape behind him. 

   The facility rumbles as Machinedramon awakens. 

   “ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴀᴄᴛ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴅᴇʟᴇᴛᴇᴅ,” Machinedramon grunts and the slow, deep tone of his voice quickens. “ɴᴏᴡ ᴇxɪᴛɪɴɢ ꜱᴛᴀꜱɪꜱ. ᴄᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ ᴍᴏᴅᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴄᴇ ꜱʜᴏʀᴛʟʏ.”

   Exhaust pipes emerge from his calves and shoulder blades, pushing out pressurized steam to help decrease his temperature. He kicks off the ground and leaves a dent in the floor. 

   The Andromon switches priorities from Moti to Pan. He crashes his wrists together and fires his fists at Pan. Swooping to a stand, Pan’s shoulder pauldrons unfold like a pair of cabinet doors. He reveals a triangle of rocket pods hidden inside.

   Red tipped missiles whistle out of Pan. One hits Andromon’s fists and explodes early. The rest find Andromon and detonate across his body.

   Face. Elbows. Behind the knees. And all other areas determined as weak points by Pan’s scanners. 

   Dark smoke consumes the Andromon. Pan pierces it like a needle after him. Neither can be seen through the thickening cloud surrounding them. 

   The seconds stretch. 

   Andromon’s limp body falls unceremoniously out of the smoke, red data eating him from the legs up. Pan chases him. He sweeps to a stop mid flight and rears his chest back. He braces his arms while energy charges in a helix of swirls around his chest. 

   Pan’s [Nuclear Accelerator] roars out of his engine in a blinding laser beam. 

   The Andromon disintegrates in the light. Finding his absorption unnecessary, Pan allows the Andromon’s data to flit away. 

   The loose wires cradling Holly in their webbing slip under her weight. She shrieks. Grabbing at them like she’s trying to scramble over the lip of a crumbling cliff, Holly’s struck with the pain in her shoulder. It shoots through her neck and arm like she’s being seared from the inside. She can’t fight through it anymore. 

   Holly tumbles through the wires and tries to hook her leg around a bundle. 

   It’s too weak and she starts falling faster. Dread grips the root of her spine when she feels the opening air at her back. 

   Holly cries out as she drops and Pan catches her in his arms. They look at each other like neither one of them can believe the other is real. 

   His visor flips to blue and the Online shimmers. 

   Pan curves down with the grace of a swan and his boots touch the ground. He sets Holly onto her feet. She leaps at the opportunity to hug him around his waist.

   “You came back for me,” Pan chokes back tears. “Despite the odds. Why would you do this?”

   Holly starts to cry. Then she laughs at herself because she doesn’t know what else to do.

   “Guess I just don’t know when to give up, y’know?”

   An endless stream of neon blue descends from the sky. It passes through the facility and surrounds the debris of Holly’s cell phone.

   What little is left rises through the light. It pinches together. Particles of energy twirl around it before collecting to mold a Digivice. The light zips into the circle bordering the screen and paints it a bright, brilliant blue. 

   It floats in a bubble to Holly and lays itself in her hands.

   The bay is silent. And still.

   Holly cradles the Digivice. She strokes a thumb over the D-pad. It’s smoother than she ever imagined it could be.

   Is this one really hers?

   A tear splashes the floor. It evaporates and the vapors form a raised fist before hissing away.

   Pan’s engine revs. She relishes the feeling of it overwhelming her chest from the inside. Another rev. This one cracks like lightning splitting a tree.

   The bass vibrates the air. 

   She looks up from her Digivice at Pan, wiping her tears away.

   He says something to her. She can’t hear him over the power of his engine. Nor can she read his lips.

   Holly’s Digivice begins to glow. 

   Light engulfs Pan and he sweeps up in a single fluid motion, maintaining his silhouette and rivaling Machinedramon in sheer force of Kaiju-esque size.

   “ᴄᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ ᴍᴏᴅᴇ ᴇɴɢᴀɢᴇᴅ. ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴀ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇ ᴍɪꜱᴄᴀʟᴄᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ,” Machinedramon rips out of his bay, gas pumps and tubes following him like stubborn vines.

   Pan’s coat unravels down his back with a clap. Nuclear fire ignites the hem.

   "ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ꜱᴏ," Pan booms. "ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ᴍɪɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ."

   Pan’s fist crashes into Machinedramon’s face, his details racing to fill in like a 3D printer on overdrive. A wicked crunch follows. Parts are sent spraying through the air. Machinedramon fires a volley of tank shells at Pan from his shoulder cannon. All but one ricochet. Pan catches it between his teeth, spits it to the side, swings his head back to Machinedramon and blasts him with a [Glaring Sun] from his visor. 

   The bullet crashes through the floor, jutting out of the ground like the nose of a sinking ship. 

   “Holy crap!” Holly shrieks and runs for cover. 

   She dives through the eye socket of a Metal Greymon's helmet. Holly catches her breath. She holds her shoulder and grimaces.

   It's numb. There's a good chance she's in shock. Not sure if that's a good or bad thing at this moment. But she'll take it.

   Holly peeks out from safety and searches the area. When she spots Moti lying near her shoes, discarded and dirtied like an old doll from a junkyard, her heart drops into her stomach. She makes a break for him. 

   Racing across the vast facility, she spares a glance upwards at Pan’s mega form, Nuclear HiAndromon.

   His officer’s cap has transformed into one that would better befit a five star general. The same goes for his coat, as it now sports epaulets and aiguillettes, golden ropes around the shoulder with metal tips. 

   Pan’s fingers crunch through Machinedramon’s snout. Holding him in place, Pan rears his head back and charges another [Glaring Sun].

   Machinedramon slams the back of his claw into the underside of Pan’s chin. Missing his shot, Pan’s [Glaring Sun] sweeps across the ceiling in an arc. He stumbles back and one of his boots crashes beside Holly. The ground ripples. She’s sent a foot into the air and lands on her stomach. Belting out a guttural gasp from the shock, Holly scrambles forward on her hands and knees until she’s back on her feet and running again. 

   Pan attempts to check on her and Machinedramon pelts his face with a barrage of rockets. Smoke clouds his field of view. His now cracked visor flips to night-vision mode and locks onto Machinedramon. 

   Pan spartan kicks Machinedramon as if he were breaking down a door. The boom that follows forces Holly to cover her ears. 

   Pressurized steam hisses from Machinedramon’s mouth.

   As if she were a mother racing back inside of a burning home to save her child, Holly scoops Moti when she gets to him, stumbles after her shoes, stuffs them into her bag, and keeps on running. 

   “H-Howdy,” Moti says weakly. “I am g-glad to see you again.”

   Holly responds by balling him up in her arms to shield him from harm. She continues running in search of somewhere to hide until what can only be compared to the tethers of the Golden Gate Bridge snapping stops her in her tracks.

   Holly looks up at Pan and her world falls to her feet. 

   Pan coughs and hot oil splatters against Machinedramon. Arm buried into Pan’s nuclear turbine at the center of his chest, Machinedramon’s [Doom Claw] has pierced through his back and ripped his coat. The fire at the hem fades.

   Machinedramon’s talons glint a sticky black.

   “ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ. ᴀᴜᴛᴏᴘɪʟᴏᴛ ᴅᴇꜱᴛʀᴏʏᴇᴅ,” Pan gargles, his voice riddled with a static feedback. “ᴛʀᴀɴꜱꜰᴇʀʀɪɴɢ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀɴᴜᴀʟ ᴏᴘᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴʙᴏᴜɴᴅ. ꜱᴇᴇᴋ ʜᴇʟᴘ ɪᴍᴍᴇᴅɪᴀᴛᴇʟʏ.”

   Machinedramon slides his arm out of Pan’s nuclear turbine as if it were nothing more than wet tissue paper. A series of explosions within Pan follows.

   Pan slumps forward, oil drooling from his wounds. 

   “ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜰʀᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰᴏᴏʟɪꜱʜɴᴇꜱꜱ.”

   Machinedramon drives his claw into his visor and Pan catches him by the wrist. His lips peel back and he bears his rapidly sharpening teeth at Machinedramon.

   Exploiting his caught arm as an anchor, Pan yanks Machinedramon forward and uses his gargantuan weight to shove him backwards. Machinedramon fumbles to regain his balance and crashes through the wall.

   Pan slouches forward once more. His visor dims, flips to Please Standby, and a mechanical groan in shift follows. 

   Pan points a spread hand at the ground. A beacon of light beams from the rotating slot opening in his palm. It paints the ground in a halo, specks of dust floating upwards within it. 

   Holly’s heartbeat pounds in her ears like a war drum. 

   “He’s like Imperialdramon, right?” She shakily slips her shoes back on, eyes glued to Pan. “That’ll take us inside?”

   “They are similar, this is true. Yet Pan friend requires an operator. He can no longer regulate his energy output. We must help him.”

   Holly hits the ground running towards the light. 

   It transports her and Moti instantaneously to the control room in Pan’s chest once they reach it. She blinks in adjustment to her surroundings. 

   It’s been her dream to become a nuclear technician for as long as she can remember. What initially sparked her interest was her Grandpa’s 1959 Bel Air and its Chevy big block engine. You could hear that thing coming from half a mile away.

   It was the sheer force of might that fascinated her. Her love of that car would set in motion her future career path. But becoming a mechanic wasn’t enough.

   She wanted to work with electrical grids, particle accelerators, and nuclear reactors.

   Real power. 

   There are two massive glass cylinders at her back stretching from floor to ceiling. Clear and housing a pair of hearts each the size of a bull, the liquid they’re suspended in occasionally gurgles with air bubbles. The hearts take turns thumping.

   Holly turns around and steps back when she sees them, stricken with awe. 

   “Wow,” Holly whispers. 

   She looks to the left and her awe breaks in the face of the wreckage before her. 

   Holly holds Moti closer to her chest. He whimpers with remorse at the sight. 

   Black scorch marks from numerous explosions. Tubes hanging like dead snakes and dripping oil. Sheets of steel peeled back like vicious, ocean waves. 

   The shape of Machinedramon’s [Doom Claw] ripping Pan open chest to back.  

   When Holly looks through the hole at his back she can see the frayed hem of his coat barely fluttering. Bracing herself to peer through the front, Holly turns around and freezes. She watches Machinedramon’s face emerge like a rhino through mist, trudging against the smoke and debris of his fall. 

   Machinedramon peers through Pan’s chest from afar and his auto tracking system outlines Holly. She raises her fist and smacks her hand against her elbow in an ‘up yours’ gesture at him once again. Her eyes flash neon blue. 

   Machinedramon roars like a demented fog horn. He charges forward. 

   Holly races to Pan’s central control hub, a series of consoles decorated with meters, knobs, and temperature gauges. 

   “C’mon Pan, wake up, wake up,” Holly holds Moti in the crook of her arm, her freehand slowly turning the Start-Run dial to bring him back online. 

   Pan’s hearts beat faster. She can feel his turbine starting to sing beneath her feet. 

   Holly keeps her eyes glued between two gauges: Utility Voltage and Synchroscope. Maintaining frequency, she continues to steadily twist the dial. She just needs to get him to where he’s self-sustaining.

   “C’mon, C’mon,” Holly’s trembling. 

   The two lights beneath the Synchroscope blink on. The once spinning needle slows and hovers at twelve o clock, indicating Pan’s voltage, frequency, and phase are all aligned. 

   “Yes!” Holly yells, releasing the dial and yanking down a lever to stabilize his energy levels. “Wake up, big guy, wake up!”

   At the sound of her calling to him Pan’s visor illuminates. 

   “ᴀʟʟ ꜱʏꜱᴛᴇᴍꜱ ᴏᴘᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ,” His voice booms around them as he begins to stand. “ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ. ʙʀᴀᴄᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ɪᴍᴘᴀᴄᴛ.”

   Pan raises his forearm in time to bear the brunt of a Machinedramon’s [Terrible Jaws]. Revving like a chainsaw, Machinedramon’s rows of teeth gnash through Pan’s arm and saw against it like hardwood. 

   Instinct takes over and Pan tries to pull his arm free. Machinedramon increases the pressure and with a swing of his head, he rips Pan’s arm off.

   A spray of oil and parts follows. 

   Holly looks up and the screen above the command console displaying Pan’s paper doll starts flashing. 

   The left arm dims. 

   “ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ. ʟᴇꜰᴛ ᴀʀᴍ ᴏꜰꜰʟɪɴᴇ,” Pan grabs his torn off arm by the wrist and yanks it free from Machinedramon’s teeth. Wielding it as a bludgeoning weapon, Pan brings it down on Machinedramon’s head. Once. Boom. Twice. Crunch. Again, and his detached arm has become a useless heap of limp wires and scrap. Pan tosses it aside. 

   It crashes into Machinedramon’s operational bay and hangs haphazardly like scrapyard garland.

   Machinedramon wears the battle across his chassis in the form of a missing horn, a snout scrunched with fingerprint indentations, and a massive dent bowing the top of his head. 

   His right shoulder cannon is smoking and offline. A fire catches inside of it.

   Machinedramon charges his left cannon. It roars with an encroaching [Manticore Inferno]. 

   Pan charges his visor. It crackles with energy as it builds up a [Solar Glare].

   Orange meets blue as the fluorescent beams collide and sizzle. They press together, forward and back, forward and back, struggling to chew through the other. 

   As if he were pulling his foot out of a sinkhole, Pan claims a step forward and his laser pushes Machinedramon’s back. Machinedramon grunts and heaves forward. 

   His molten beam pushes through Pan’s blue.  

   Pan’s forced to step back. 

   His twin hearts begin to thump out of rhythm with palpitations. 

   Holly glances over her shoulder at them, consumed with not just worry, but guilt. She looks down at Moti and he nods.

   Rerouting power reserves, Holly flips a series of switches to raise Pan’s visor output. She twists a dial and slowly increases it. All the while she keeps an eye on his Utility Voltage and Synchroscope meters, making sure they’re still in harmony. 

   Pan pushes forward with his [Solar Glare]. He claims each step towards Machinedramon like he’s trudging through wet cement. 

   Glass cracks behind Holly. She can hear it splitting higher and higher. 

    “I know, I know,” Holly whispers frantically. 

   Pan’s [Solar Glare] blooms in size when Holly pushes it to its limit. It drives through Machinedramon’s [Manticore Inferno] like a pressure washer through butter. 

   Neon blue pierces Machinedramon’s cannon and shoots across the desert in an indefinite line. Popping like a firework of shrapnel, Machinedramon’s cannon explodes. Black smoke spews out of Machinedramon’s shoulder.

   Machinedramon slouches forward. Dirty fire belches out of his remaining cannon. It explodes and Machinedramon topples to the ground. Crude oil spreads out from beneath him.

   A flaming droplet plops into the oil. It combusts with a whoosh around Machinedramon. He catches fire and his metal sloughs. 

   Glops of metal slide free from Machinedramon like tender meat, exposing his skeletal frame. The bottom half of his jaw melts off.

   Clicking into focus, Machinedramon’s eyes ignite. 

   Glass continues to fracture into spiderwebs at Holly’s back. It’s growing in volume.

   𝚃𝚒𝚗𝚔. 𝚃𝚒𝚗𝚔. 𝙲𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚔. 𝙲𝚛𝙰𝙰𝚌𝙺. 𝙳𝚒𝚗𝚔𝙳𝚒𝚗𝚔𝙳𝚒𝚗𝚔𝙳𝚒𝚗𝚔—

   Holly closes her eyes in acceptance when Pan’s Utility Voltage spikes. 

   Liquid sprays out of the tube in spurts through the cracks. Something inside of Pan clangs like a broken hydraulic press. Pressurized mechanical groans whirr louder and louder. Holly hugs Moti and braces the two of them as the tube behind her shatters like an aquarium taking a gunshot. A small tidal wave of liquid washes into her back. She stands firm.

   Pan stumbles backwards like a drunkard. He catches himself against the wall, denting it with his weight. His second heart produces two more thumps before wilting in on itself. 

   Pan cracks his mouth open and releases a jet stream pressurized steam. 

   His temperature gauge soars.

    An alarm overcome with static warbles within his control room.

   “ᴡ@ʀɴɪɴɢɢɢ. 0ᴘᴏᴘᴏᴘᴏᴘ3ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢɢɢ ᴀᴛ ʟᴏᴡ ʟ0ᴡ ʟᴏᴏᴏᴡᴡᴡ ʟᴏᴡ3ꜱᴛ ᴘᴇʀᴘᴇʀᴘᴇʀꜰᴏʀᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ ꜱ3ᴛᴛɪɴɴɴɢɢɢꜱ,” Pan elbows the wall and punctures it. Punching it the rest of the way open, he points his palm at the ground and activates his internal teleportation network. 

   A flourish of light rises behind Holly.

   “ɪ-ɪ-ɪ-ɪ ɪɪɪɪ ꜱʜᴀʟʟ-ꜱʜ@ʟʟ—ꜱʜᴀʟʟ ʜ0ʟᴅ ʜɪᴍᴍᴍᴍ ᴏꜰꜰꜰ. ᴘʟᴇᴀᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴇxɪᴛᴛᴛ ɴᴏɴᴏɴ0ᴡ ɴᴏᴡᴡᴡᴡ.”

   Holly looks up at Pan’s paper doll and it’s covered in exclamation points. Clear and smelling like transmission fluid, the liquid from Pan’s second heart settles at her ankles.

   Holly ignores Pan in favor of watching his Utility Voltage and Synchroscope meters. 

   The Synchroscope is spinning like a broken compass. And his Utility Voltage isn’t faring much better. It’s not even a third of where it’s supposed to be.

   Holly flips up switches, pulls two levers down, pushes one up, and presses a series of buttons squared together like a keypad. 

   “Holly friend,” Moti motions towards the RH button. “That one. It will convert excess heat into energy reserves.”

   Holly swipes the sweat from her brow. “I’m not gonna push him into a meltdown.”

   “But it is the only way. A black start will not work.”

   “I have to try.”

   “He will die,” Moti says. “And so will we. It is the only way. You must recycle his heat.”

   Holly bows her head. She doesn’t say anything. 

   Having shed his external chassis, Machinedramon peels himself off the ground like an undead T-Rex rising out of a tar-pit. He’s sleek. Black and skeletal, with only hints of the Digimon he once was. Stray wires. Half of his drill arm. Megadramon’s helmet, absent one swept back horn. 

   Unwilling to forsake their superior, the machine Digimon of the manufacturing facility pour in from every direction. Flocks of MailBirdramon sweep around Machinedramon in pairs, searching for a way to aid him. Groups of Datamon try and fail to soak up the oil. A trio of Starmon douse the fires in sand. An Andromon rushes to stop a bouncing Pagumon from helping, lest it be deleted by falling debris. The Andromon scoops it up and jumps back. 

   “ꜰᴀʟʟ ʙᴀᴄᴋ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴀꜱᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ.”

   The machine Digimon obey and gather along the walls. 

   Machinedramon exhales iridescent fumes.

   “ʙᴇʀꜱᴇʀᴋ ᴍᴏᴅᴇ ᴇɴɢᴀɢᴇᴅ.”

   Holly slams her fist down on the RH button. 

   What little power Pan has left whirs inside of him like an old tractor. 

   The tubes of magma flanking his head, fluted through his arms, and tucked like veins running beneath his plates start to churn. 

   Machinedramon tilts his head back and roars. His eyes glow brighter. He hits the ground barreling towards Pan, swiping his claws forward like an enraged therizinosaurus. 

   Pan takes a slash to the face. His visor cracks with three gashes and the screens connected to his vision fizzle out. A slash to the chest comes next. The shriek of torn metal follows.

   Machinedramon continues with his assault, slashing and scratching and stabbing wherever he can reach. 

   “Pan!” Holly cries out. “Don’t just stand there, do something!”

   A panel drops from the ceiling and crashes next to her. 

   “ɴɴɴɴᴇɢᴀ@ᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ,” Pan gargles with static. “ɪɪɪɪ ɪ-ɪ-ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴ0ᴛ ꜰᴏʀ-ꜰᴏʀ-ꜰᴏʀꜱᴀᴋᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴘʟᴇᴀᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴇxɪᴛᴛᴛ ɴᴏɴᴏɴ0ᴡ ɴᴏᴡᴡᴡᴡ.”

   The column of light behind Holly flickers in and out. Debris drift from the ceiling as it rumbles. 

   “We’re in this together, remember?!” Holly kicks his command console. “C’mon, you big hunk of junk, get in there!”

   “ᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀꜱ-@ꜱ—ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ʏᴏᴜ ʏᴏᴜᴜᴜ ᴡɪꜱʜ-ᴡɪꜱʜ-ᴡɪꜱꜱꜱʜʜʜ.”

   Pan catches Machinedramon’s arm and the light behind Holly blinks out. With a hard jerk to the left, Pan snaps it from the elbow down. It dangles limply at Machinedramon’s side. 

   Machinedramon lunges at Pan. Pivoting a foot into a slide as he dodges with a sidestep, Pan spins into a roundhouse kick and sends Machinedramon hurdling into the wall. When he falls, he lands on a crowd of machine Digimon and they burst into packets of data. They flitter away.

   One of Machinedramon’s eyes pop as he bellows with a hateful, wretched sound. He peels himself up one last time.

   The lava flowing through Pan begins to boil. The lights within his control room flicker and fade. His visor does the same. 

   Pan tries to vent steam and barely a wisp exits his mouth. The ports lining his thighs cough. 

   “ᴡᴀʀᴡ@ʀʀᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ. ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛᴇᴍᴘ—ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴇʀᴀ@ᴛᴜʀᴇ ꜱᴜʀᴘᴀꜱꜱɪɴɢ ꜱᴜʀᴘᴀꜱꜱɪɴɢ ꜱᴜʀᴘᴀ$$ɪɴɢ ᴍᴀxɪᴍᴜᴍ ᴛʜʀᴇꜱʜᴏʟᴅʜᴏʟᴅʜᴏʟᴅ. ᴡ@ʀɴɪɴɢ. ɴᴜᴄʟᴇᴀʀ ᴍᴇʟᴛ ᴍ3ʟᴛᴅ0ᴡɴ ɪɴ ᴛᴛᴛᴛ-ᴛ-ᴍɪɴᴜꜱ—”

   An explosion belts out of Pan’s mouth as Machinedramon punches his drill arm through his turbine once again. Glaring at Pan with his robotic eye, he activates the drill into a spin. It chews through Pan like aluminum in a garbage disposal. 

   Pan’s heart slows. The ever present thumping weakens. 

   The floor rumbles below Holly like a thousand subway stations. 

   Machinedramon opens his drill and the three prongs flare out, one of them puncturing the floor beside Holly like a shark fin. 

   He yanks his drill back towards him and a shower of wires, oil, and fan blades follow. 

   Pan tries to cover his chest out of instinct with an arm he doesn't have. He bobs from side to side before blundering backwards. Fingers scraping through metal and revealing sunlight from outside, Pan manages to catch himself on the wall.

   With his gravity stabilizers blown, Pan’s control room slants with his body and Holly loses her footing. She falls onto her knees and slides along the floor. Moti clings to her as she bundles him up in her arms to protect him. 

   Pan’s visor dims with a mechanical clank and groan. He hangs limply, knees buckled, weight supported purely by his fingers sunk into the wall. 

   The lights within his control room flicker and cut to black. 

   Holly’s hip smacks the floor and she rolls to a stop. Loose screws, nuts, bolts, and Pan’s blown fuse tumble out of her pockets. She tries to catch the fuse with her foot but it bounces off and away. 

   It twinkles and disappears into the dark.

   The room begins to faintly glow. Holly’s face grows hot.

   It’s almost heavenly.  

   Pan’s heart occasionally thumps. His voice reaches out to her in an echo from far, far away.  

   “ᴀᴄᴛɪᴠᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴇʟᴇᴘᴏʀᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɴᴇᴛᴡᴏʀᴋ. ᴇᴠᴀᴄᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴜꜱ: ɪɴ ᴘʀᴏɢʀᴇꜱꜱ. ꜰʀᴀᴜʟᴇɪɴ, ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʟᴏɴɢ. ᴍʏ ᴍᴇʟᴛᴅᴏᴡɴ ɪꜱ ʀᴀᴘɪᴅʟʏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴀᴄʜɪɴɢ. ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀʟʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱᴍɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏᴜᴛꜱɪᴅᴇ. ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ʀᴜɴ.”

   Holly gently sets Moti down, retrieves her shoes out of her bag, and pulls their laces out. She wraps them around her hands and tests their durability by drawing them tight. Then she looks up at Pan’s command console. It’s slanted at an angle where the ceiling meets the wall.

   The screens have shattered. One of them is smoking. A split wire sparks.

   Moti follows Holly’s line of sight. “Oh. Oh, dear. Please, be careful.”

   Holly nods. 

   Light from Pan’s teleportation network rises to her left. It struggles to maintain itself.

   “ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ɴᴜᴄʟᴇᴀʀ ᴍᴇʟᴛᴅᴏᴡɴ ɪᴍᴍɪɴᴇɴᴛ. ᴇᴠᴀᴄᴜᴀᴛᴇ ɪᴍᴍᴇᴅɪᴀᴛᴇʟʏ,” Pan’s voice grows weaker. “ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀꜱᴋ ᴀ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ, ʜᴏʟʟʏ.”

   Holly snags her shoelaces on a jagged wedge jutting out from the wall. With a grunt, she hoists herself up. 

   “Yeah?” She calls into the dark. “Sure thing, big guy. What’s up?”

   Her foot finds another bend of steel. She uses it to ground herself before climbing higher. 

   “ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴍᴇ?”

   Holly smiles to herself. The room is getting hotter. 

   “You’re kinda hard to forget. So, yeah. I’ll always keep you with me.”

   Holly tries to grab at a bundle of dangling wires. She misses. Once. Twice. On the third try she nabs them, gives them a tug to test their strength, and uses them to swing to a better vantage point. When she lets them go, she stumbles onto a panel curled back like a pencil shaving. 

   Holly fills her lungs. Pan’s command console is a jump she’s not sure she can make away. She tries to find another path and can’t. There’s nothing within reach to climb or catch her shoelaces on. 

   “Hey!” Holly shouts into the dark. “I know you’re still in there! So, promise me somethin’ too, alright?”

   The only response she gets is the fading thud of his heart. 

   “I don’t know what’s about to happen,” Holly’s eyes flicker. “But you’ve gotta stick with me. Don’t give up, big guy. Not yet.”

   Giving herself the distance necessary for a running start, Holly shoots forward. She leaps over a hole exposing Pan’s glowing reactor from far below. 

   Holly stabs her screwdriver into the top of the console when she lands. She hangs with both hands welded to the handle, scrambling for a place to find her footing like a rat climbing out of a pool. 

   Machinedramon swipes his claw through Pan’s discarded arm like he would a spider web, batting it out of his operational bay.

   “ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏᴜʀ: ᴅɪꜱᴀꜱꜱᴇᴍʙʟᴇ ʜɪᴍ,” Machinedramon instructs his subordinates towards Pan. “ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ: ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀꜱꜱᴇᴍʙʟʏ. ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴᴇ: ᴀᴄᴛɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ ʜʏᴅʀᴏ-ᴘᴜᴍᴘꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ᴍᴇʟᴛᴅᴏᴡɴ.”

   Machinedramon backs himself up into the bay. A pair of MailBirdramon sink their talons into one of Pan’s fan blades dangling from his turbine. 

   They pluck it free and tote it away. 

   A crowd of Andromon, Datamon, and Clockmon pull hoses out of the wall and douse Pan with hundreds of gallons of water. 

   They’re unaware it’s too late; There’s only one thing that can stop this now.

   Teeth grit, Holly pulls herself up with the screwdriver as her anchor. A glossary of nuclear terms roll through her mind as she reads every label in pursuit of his SCRAM button. 

> Start-Run

> Bridge order

> Plant Tave

> System Test 

> Counting Rate

> SCRAM

Emergency Reactor ShutDown

   Holly hesitates, the hallucination of a Geiger counter crackling in her ears. 

Is this it? Is this what it’s supposed to feel like?

How come I’m not scared? I mean, I am, but—

I’m sorry, Ma. 

What’s going to happen?

Grandpa? 

Lug nut? You doing alright out there?

Where do we go when we die?

Kleiner gefallener Stern. 

Did you invite her?

Nobody likes a sore loser.

Good day, Gentlemen! Lovely evening we’re having.

What’s she doing here?

I'm never going to finish that paper.

I’m not getting into college.

… I’m going to die, aren’t I.

You’re a liar, annoying, and way too loud. Nobody likes you. They just put up with you. 

I will keep her safe. She is my friend.

Why don’t you tell that project to am-scary and come hang with me instead?

It’s okay! He’s actually really nice!

Are peanut M&M’s like peanut butter?

English translation: Little fallen star. 

Perhaps we exist as a means of creating something new, you and I.

   Holly hits the SCRAM button and a compartment beside it slides open, revealing a place for her Digivice. 

   Time slows. 

   Holly blinks. The salt from her sweat stings her eyes. A bead is stuck in her lashes. She blinks again.

   Holly reaches for her Digivice. The split ends of her hair lift and brighten. 

   It clicks into place when she presses it into the mold. The screen illuminates with an icon of a raised fist. 

   Shimmering out of the dark like a shooting star in reverse, Pan’s blown fuse zips towards Holly. It twirls around her like a fairy.  

   The fuse slows to a hover in front of her face. It reshapes itself and morphs into the Crest of Might.

   A blue shock-wave bursts out of the screen. It ripples across the Digital World and peels back trees, blows sand off ruins, and smears clouds across the sky. 

   The Crest lowers and lays itself in Holly’s hands. Matching her Digivice, a symbol of a raised fist sits behind the screen. 

   Pan’s visor ignites. He reaches towards the MailBirdramon with an arm that isn’t there. Data particles form a clenched fist around them. Crawling up from his rapidly forming hand in a tidal wave of mechanical parts, digital code rebuilds Pan’s arm.

   “ᴀʟʟ ꜱʏꜱᴛᴇᴍꜱ ᴏᴘᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ. ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡʜᴇʟᴍɪɴɢ. ᴇxᴄᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ ᴍᴀxɪᴍᴜᴍ ᴛʜʀᴇꜱʜᴏʟᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴀɴ ᴜɴᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴘᴇʀᴄᴇɴᴛᴀɢᴇ,” Pan’s visor repairs itself. “ɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇɴ, ɪ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʀᴇᴄᴀʟʟ ꜱᴀʏɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ.”  

   He releases the MailBirdramon and bats them away like flies. The fan blade disintegrates and swirls in a helix of micro-parts back into Pan’s turbine. 

   As Pan rises swarms of data buzz around him like mechanical bees, all working to repair the damage.

   Holly pockets her Digivice, Crest, and quickly retrieves her screwdriver before slipping off the console. She rides the wall down in a slide as Pan stands. Moti reaches for her as she passes and she pulls him into her. They roll to a landing on the floor.

   Binary numbers wave in ripples over Pan’s control room and repair him in a single flourish. 

   His twin hearts thump in tandem once more.   

   Holly scrambles to stand and races for his command console. When she gets there she locks eyes with his Utility Voltage and Synchroscope meters, trembling with a level of intensity better reserved for an addict seeking a fix.

   The needle on his Synchroscope is holding firm at twelve o’ clock. Rather than numbers or tick marks, his Utility Voltage has a single infinity symbol.

   The needle is on it. 

   “I don’t—I don’t know how,” Holly whispers to herself. She gazes up through the screens connected to Pan’s visor. 

   Machinedramon is yanking himself out of his bay. He rips through the left side and sends one of the steel rods supporting it crashing to the floor. It squashes a fleeing Starmon and its data pops. 

   Holly steadies herself.

   “You ready for this?” She asks Moti.

   A packet of code brushes against him. It sinks into his pink, blobby little body and heals his wounds. Holly receives the same treatment as ones and zeroes cascade in shimmers near her shoulder.

   Holly and Moti smile at one another. 

   “Yup. I’m ready,” He leans into Holly’s embrace for comfort.

   She gives him as much as she can. 

   Machinedramon creeps like a tiger leering through foliage around Pan. Careful. Deliberate. And silent. He maintains his distance, statistics performing simulations of the fight to come through his mind.

   “Hey, Pan,” Holly hollers. 

   He responds and his voice booms around them. 

  “ʏᴇꜱ, ᴍʏ qׁׅᴜᴇᴇɴ?”

   Holly narrows her eyes and they brighten into a glow.

   “Bury him.”

   Pan’s coat claps and a raised fist appears waving with the folds. His lava bubbles into a starry, Milky Way blue. Fire of the same galactic hue ignites the bottom of his coat, blazes out of the jets on his boots, and bleeds out of the corners of his visor. 

   Pan reaches into his chest and pulls a two handed maul out of his turbine. 

   Gunmetal in burnish. Heavy as a small cathedral. Complete with boosters for maximum impact, the chrome digizoid hammerhead incorporates two back to back engines befitting a space shuttle from the future.

   Pan bounces the maul against his hand in waiting. Machinedramon snorts like a minotaur at him. He stalks to the left in prowl, and Pan goes right. Their reflections ripple in the lake of oil between them. 

   Machinedramon springs forward, darts to the left, and lunges for Pan’s waist. Pan responds by bashing Machinedramon’s skull with the hilt of his maul. Wielding it with one hand beneath the head and another on the grip, Pan knocks Machinedramon back with the pole. 

   Machinedramon stumbles. Pan pushes him back again. And again. Toppling into the oil, Machinedramon swipes his claw through it and sends a hailstorm of black at Pan’s face. 

   The oil evaporates before it reaches him. 

   Pan widens his stance, cements his weight, and swings his maul over his shoulder. Machinedramon shoots a laser out of his eye and it clips Pan’s cheek, slicing it open. Data stitches it back together. 

   The engine facing away from Machinedramon roars with galactic fire. Machinedramon bellows back like an old dragon. Pan charges his [Atom Splitter] and drives his maul down onto Machinedramon with the force of two planets colliding. 

   A deafening boom thunders in echoes through the facility. 

   Dunefall rumbles behind them and settles.

   "ᴛᴀʀɢᴇᴛ ʙᴜʀɪᴇᴅ," Pan releases his maul.

   It dissolves and zips back into his turbine. His fires subside. Lava returning to a comfortable and molten orange glow, the raised fist on his back retreats into the fabric and fades away. 

   Holly rubs her eyes and they return to normal. 

   Holding his hand out before him, Pan flattens his palm and the center rotates open in activation of his teleportation network. Holly pats his command console. She unwraps her shoes laces like bandages from her hands and puts them away before walking through the light behind her. She’s instantly transmitted outside. 

   Her nostrils sting from the concoction of burnt ion, gasoline, and crude oil wafting into her face. She waves what she can away. 

   Holly turns to look up at Pan. Moti tilts his head back and joins her.

   His strict, battle ready posture softens. He smiles fondly down at them. 

   “You are very big,” Moti says to Pan.

   A laugh catches in Holly’s throat. She covers her mouth. 

    “ᴀɴ ᴇxᴄᴇʟʟᴇɴᴛ ᴏʙꜱᴇʀᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴅᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ,” Pan chuckles and the bass from his voice shakes the air. “ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ.”

   “Oh, yes. Very small, indeed.”

   Machinedramon stirs. Holly leans over the lip of Pan’s hand to see him.

   He’s slowly fading away.

   “ʀᴇqׁׅᴜᴇꜱᴛ: ꜱʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴇ,” Machinedramon ruptures with static. “ꜱʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʀᴇᴀᴛʜ.”

   Holly glances back to Pan, almost as if she’s seeking permission. 

   Pan gives Holly a nod. 

   She fishes for her Digivice and holds it out for Machinedramon to see. 

   Machinedramon observes it. Then he meets Pan’s visor with his fractured, robotic eye. 

   “ɪ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴀꜱᴋ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ,” Machinedramon sighs and collapses into data.

   Everyone watches the red particles slowly flit away. 

   Pan exhales and pressurized steam hisses out of the diesel ports lining his thighs. 

   “You’re not gonna absorb him?” Holly raises her voice over the waterfalls of roaring steam. 

   “ɴᴇɢᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ. ꜱᴜᴄʜ ᴀɴ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ɪꜱ ᴀɴ ᴜɴɴᴇᴄᴇꜱꜱᴀʀʏ ᴇᴠɪʟ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ. ʜɪꜱ ᴅᴀᴛᴀ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇqׁׅᴜɪʀᴇᴅ.”

   “This is illogical,” Moti notes. “And interesting. Very interesting, indeed. May I absorb what remains of him?”

   Holly and Pan frown at Moti. 

   “Oh, dear. A simple no would have sufficed.”

   With caution preserved for surgery on a butterfly, Pan slowly brings his hand down to the floor. Holly hops off and lands with a dull thud. She places Moti onto his feet and he stretches his nubby little arms. 

   The pair of Datamon responsible for throwing her and Moti into prison approach them. Pan looms overhead and rumbles like a forge with a poorly restrained growl.

   One of the Datamon stops. The other, slightly larger and sporting a red eye panel over yellow, toddles up to Holly. 

   Holly scowls at him.

   “Ownership of our data has been transferred to Nuclear HiAndromon and his corresponding tamer. What are your current orders?”

   This Datamon sounds like a text to speech device read by a nerd.

   “You can’t be serious right now,” Holly whines at Pan.

   The growl pervading his throat smooths into a chuckle. 

   “ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀɢᴇ ɪꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ, ʟɪᴇʙʟɪɴɢ.”

   Holly frowns at him. He smiles like he's proud of himself at her. 

   Jerk.

   Rising to his full height, Pan strides forward and his footsteps rattle the floor.

   “Hey! Don’t you walk away from me! What gives?!” Holly chases after him and suddenly stops. “No, really! Wait! Where are you going?”

   Moti waddles up to Holly. He sneaks her Gameboy out of her bag and turns the volume down.

   “ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴋꜱ ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ʙᴇ ᴅᴇꜱᴛʀᴏʏᴇᴅ.”

   “Why?”

   “ᴍᴀᴄʜɪɴᴇᴅʀᴀᴍᴏɴ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴄᴏʀʀᴇᴄᴛ ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ᴀꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ɪɴᴅᴇᴇᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛᴏᴏʟꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡᴀʀ. ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴇʟɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴋꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀᴇꜱᴛᴀʟʟ ᴢʜᴜqׁׅɪᴀᴏᴍᴏɴ’ꜱ ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ꜰᴜʀᴛʜᴇʀ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ. ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀᴄᴛ ɪ ꜰʀᴇᴇ ᴍʏ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴋɪɴ.”

   Pan marches outside and charges a [Solar Glare].

   Holly stands in the middle of the facility and watches Pan’s visor gather energy. 

   Seeing him framed by the border of the colossal doors really sinks in how large he is as Nuclear HiAndromon. The big guy looks as if the Bismarck battleship could pick itself up and walk on two legs. 

   For no other reason than simply because she can, Holly puts her Crest around her neck.

   It's weightlessly heavy. When her Grandpa died, her Mom gave her his wedding ring as a keepsake.

   She's never worn it. It's still tucked away in her bedside drawer. She thinks she'd keel over if something happened to it. 

   Holly touches her Crest. She allows that cold, all too familiar ache in her heart to exist for a moment. 

   If only he was still here today. He'd be proud, right?

   Holly looks down at her Digivice and smiles wistfully.

   Pan destroys the Arks with his [Solar Glare], prowling the junkyard and sweeping his laser beam. As Pan’s off taking care of his task, Moti slips away unnoticed while Holly stows her Digivice away and prepares to face hers.

   The Datamon blinks its crusty eye. “Requesting orders.”

   “I thought Machinedramon’s whole gig was setting the lot of you free.”

   The Datamon blinks at her again. It ignores her statement.

   “Requesting orders.”

   Holly rolls her eyes. She sits down and starts threading her laces back through her shoes.

   “Requesting orders."

   “Do you guys always talk like that?”

   Holly slips her shoes on and stands back up, dusting her knees.

   “Internal comprehension failure. Clarification required.”

   Holly scratches her head. “I don’t know? Formal? Direct? Like a machine— Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense. But you guys can loosen up a little. If you want.”

   The Datamon before Holly glances to the smaller Datamon behind him. The smaller one shrugs its shoulders.

   ”See, that right there? I can tell you’re thinkin’ about it. I mean, at least where I’m from, being free and all that jazz kinda starts and ends with freedom of speech.”

   The Datamon looks away in thought.

   “Requesting Freedom of Speech,” The Datamon asks.

   Silence.

   A squeaky voice, just as monotone and blunt as the rest, speaks up.

   “Requesting Freedom of Speech.”

   Another. “Requesting Freedom of Speech.”

   And another. “Requesting Freedom of Speech.”

   The crowd of mechanical voices layer over one another.

   “Requesting Freedom of Speech.”   

   “Requesting Freedom of Speech.”   

   “Requesting Freedom of Speech.”  

   “Requesting Freedom of Speech.”    

   “Requesting Freedom of Speech.”     

   “Requesting Freedom of Speech.”    

   “Requesting Freedom of Speech.”   

   “Requesting Freedom of Speech.”   

   “Requesting Freedom of Speech.”  

   “Requesting Freedom of Speech.”    

   “Requesting Freedom of Speech.”     

   “Requesting Freedom of Speech.”

   Holly’s leg is bouncing. She mentally begs herself not to cry, overwhelmed by the weight her life now carries.

   It’s embarrassing and she doesn't know why.

   “Yeah!” She hollers so the crowd hears her. “Yeah, of course!”

   Her voice echoes through the facility.

   Silence meets her in response. 

   Holly's vision starts to tunnel.

   “Affirmative and permission granted,” The Datamon's states. “It is how we say yes.”

   His voice snaps her out of it.

   All she can manage to do is smile and nod graciously.

   The Datamon continues. “Expressing gratitude is foreign to me. Will ‘thank you’ suffice?”

   “You don’t gotta thank me, I—“ After seeing the Datamon cock its head in confusion, Holly drops her modesty. “Y’know what? It absolutely works. Thank you is awesome.”

   “Understood. Thank you,” The Datamon says. “Is there a service we can provide for you?”

   “Nah, I’m good. What about you? What do you want to do?”

   “I do not know. I will accept suggestions.”

   “Maybe give yourself some time to think about it. It’s your life now,” Holly reaches for Datamon’s hand. “This here is a handshake. There are a couple of uses for it. You shake when you agree to a deal, you shake when you meet someone, and you can shake when you say goodbye.”

   “Which of these will we perform?”

   “All three, I think.”

   The Datamon accepts Holly’s hand. He waits for her to take the lead and they shake on it.

   “Y’know, you’re not half bad,” Holly puts her hands on her hips. “Think I’ll call you Dates.”

   Dates smiles for the first time. “I would like that.”

   “Just don’t toss me and my buddy in the slammer again, alright?”

   “Context suggests you are referring to the holding cell. Am I correct?”

   “Yeah. Don’t do that again.”

   “I am sorry. I will not do that again.”

   Pan returns from clearing the junkyard of the Arks. He comes to a halt when his sensors detect a mass of data similar to an ultimate level Digimon below him. Pan glances down at a cage equal to his knee in height. Half of it has caved in with debris, rubble, and spent tank shells. 

   Tattered like moth eaten leather, Pan’s scanner highlights Metal Greymon’s purple wings poking out through the bars. 

   Pan dusts the debris away with his fingers and peels the top of the cage back like the lid of a tin can. The Metal Greymon peers up at him. It backs into a corner. 

   Reaching a long arm across the facility, Pan retrieves its helmet with two of his fingers. He offers it to the Metal Greymon. It eyes him cautiously and hunches away. 

   Pan sets the helmet on its head like he would a bonnet to a doll.

   He bends the bars into an opening and walks away.

   Moments later the Metal Greymon trudges free of its cage. It checks its surroundings before looking at Pan, then Holly. It snorts.

   The Metal Greymon lumbers away and disappears into the junkyard. 

   Pan’s sensors detect additional movement at his feet. He looks down and smiles warmly. 

   Holly finishes running and gasps for air. She leans on the toe of one of his boots for support. 

   “Y’know, that was—That was a lot farther than I thought it’d be. Yeah. I feel like my lungs are about to freakin’ pop. Holy Hell.”

   Pan chuckles like an amused god of thunder. 

   Pleased with his accomplishments, he releases his Mega form and shrinks in a pinch down to Solar Andromon. He smiles that smarmy, big ham grin of his at Holly in return of his usual self. She smiles back just as goofy, stupid, and excited.

   Pan takes a step towards her with open arms and stumbles. Forgetting he weighs several tons, she rushes to help break his fall. Pan catches himself and holds a hand up for her to stop.

   Holly gives him space.

   “What’s going on? Tell me what to do, I’ve got you. Just tell me what to do.”

   “Warning. Energy levels deeecreasing. Forgive me, ffffraulein. I-I can no long-long-longer hold this form-form-forrm—“

   Pan crashes to a knee and melts into a silhouette of light. He zips to the ground and molds around the frame of a Digimon equal to a Tentomon.

   Sol Kokuwamon, a variant with an engine no more powerful than a campfire generator in his chest.

   He also has a little officer’s cap. 

   It’s too cute for words.  

   Pan faces the floor. He brings his hands together, a pair of magnet-like crab claws sporting two prongs. They click as he fiddles with them. 

   She can tell something is off.

   Holly approaches him like she’s trying not to spook a doe. 

   “Hey there, it’s okay. C’mere. It's just me."

   Pan glances at Holly. When their eyes meet he quickly looks away. She inches closer. Pan chirps and beeps to himself in response. 

   Keeping his eyes on the ground, he reaches his arms towards her. 

   Holly’s heart flutters with overwhelming fondness. It’s taking every ounce of strength she has not to ask if he wants uppies.  

   Hoisting him up like she would a child, Holly bounces Pan in her arms as she adjusts how to hold him to her liking. He’s lighter than she thought he’d be. 

   The two cords dangling from either side of his waist slink around Holly’s middle. They plug into one another like a belt buckle.

   “Is that better?” 

   Pan nods. 

   “Cool beans. Mind if I ask you another question?”

   Pan hesitates. Then he nods. 

   “You said something before you Digivolved, but I didn’t catch it. What was it?”

   Pan vigorously shakes his head and buries himself deeper into Holly’s embrace.

   She laughs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just not used to you being all shy like this.”

   Pan wilts and emits a low, sad frequency. 

   Holly laughs again.

   “Oh, no you don’t. Don’t give me that. What did you say?”

   Pan shakes his head. 

   “Awww. But if you don’t tell me, it’ll make me all sad and stuff.”

   Pan grunts. He finally allows himself to look up at her. Despite being absent a way to express emotion, she knows he’s pouting. 

   It’s freakin’ adorable. 

   “Now I really wanna know. It’s gotta be good if you’re keepin’ it hard under wraps like this.”

   It’s too soon for her to tell if he’s pausing for dramatic effect or not. But after a handful of seconds, Pan lifts his head and performs a scan of their surroundings. He calculates the distance between the crowd of mechanical Digimon now happily chatting away with Moti as he shows off Holly’s Gameboy.

    Once Pan’s determined they’re far enough away from any eavesdropping, he relents and whispers into her ear. Then he buries his face in one of her shoulders and whines at himself. 

   Holly completely stills. 

   Having selected Philosophy as an elective last year, she learned about philosophers such as Epicurus, Heraclitus, Plato, and, of course, Aristotle.

   Each of them had quotes worthy of global notoriety. Matter of fact, many of them are still used to this day.

   Holly remembers her favorite one.

   She rests her head against his. “I love you, too.”

   “Love is a single soul inhabiting two bodies.”

- Aristotle

Chapter fourteen: Declaration of War

   Moti is a total turd burglar for stealing Holly’s Gameboy. 

   She’s not sure she’ll ever live down the crowd of machine Digimon sighing awww when she took it back from him. If she ever gets home, she’ll find a way to get them a few to share. They’re luckily not as expensive as they used to be. 

   But they can’t have hers. It’s special.

   Holly adjusts Pan’s hat after noticing it’s been sitting between his magnet prongs lopsided. A bolt of discharge strings between them and pops.

   “You hanging in there?”

   Pan nods. Holly smiles and a surge of giddy energy rushes her blood.

   He’s so cute in his rookie form! Oh, man, she wants to mess with him about it so bad. 

   An Andromon with purple wires, green eyes, and— He’s got Rat Fink and Dookie Dude held up by the scruffs of their necks.

   Great. Just great.

   “These two were found attempting to escape the premises. Requesting permission to delete them,” The Andromon pauses. “Please.”

   “Who, whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy. We don’t gotta take it that far. Just let them do their thing, they’re cool.”

   “Understood,” The Andromon drops the pair and they hit the floor. 

   Holly frowns at them. “Hasta luego, lemonheads. Get lost.”

   Chuumon crosses his arms and pouts. “Nyeh! But you said for us to do our own thing, and we wanna stay here!”

   She’s instantly regretting not having them deleted. 

   Pan lifts his head up to Holly’s ear and whispers. Once he’s finished, he gauges her reaction.

   She exhales with a slight tremble. 

   Moti tugs on her pant leg. “Holly friend, what is wrong?”

   “Zhuqiaomon’s probably caught wind of what just went down. He’s gonna be on the lookout for us soon. Like, real soon. We’ve gotta get to Ebonwumon’s forest. Pan says we’ll be safe there.”

   “Yes, you must go. You will be safe there. I will stay here.”

   Holly feels like she just took a punch to the gut. She and Pan exchange a look before she returns to Moti. “But, why?”

   “It is simple. The machine Digimon have no leader. I will stay and be with them in your stead. This will please everyone. Including me. I have always wanted a crew. Plus we can share snacks.”

   “You sure you wanna stay here?” She tilts her head towards Chuumon and Mini Scumon. “You really want to stay with them?”

   “Yes. They are funny. I like funny.”

    “I guess,” Holly huffs. She then points two fingers at herself before directing them at Chuumon and Mini Scumon. “I’ve got my eyes on you two. No funny business or I’ll be back.”

   “I’d like it if you came back, my lady.”

   Chuumon cackles. “Yeah, Mini Scumon has a crush on you! Nyeh!

   “You said you wouldn’t tell her,” Mini Scumon whines. 

   “Oh, yeah! Nyeh! I forgot.”

   Holly frowns at Moti and he smiles at her. “They are funny.”

   “Yeah, funny looking,” She says. 

   Mini Scumon hugs himself and giggles. “My lady said I’m funny looking.”

   “That wasn’t— Ugh. Y’know what? Never mind. Take it as a compliment.”

   “I will cherish it forever,” Mini Scumon sighs romantically.

   Pan glares over his shoulder at Mini Scumon. 

   Holly can feel him starting to heat up.

   “Annnnnnnd with that out of the way,” She pats Pan’s back. “We should get to steppin’ outta here.”

   “Can I have your Gameboy?” Moti asks.

   “Yeahhhh, how about no,” Holly laughs. “I ain’t gonna let you nab it again. Plus, if I give it to you now, what else do I have to keep you around when I show my face here again?”

   “You have you. And I like you. I like you very much. You are my best friend,” Moti waddles to Holly’s leg and hugs it. “I will miss you, Holly best friend.”

   Holly gets down on her knees and brings Moti into her arms with Pan. 

   “I’ve never had a best friend before,” Holly hugs them both. “But I’m really glad I have one now. I’m gonna miss you so much.”

   She sets Moti down. Pan gives him a pat on the head. 

   “We will see each other again. Yes, we will. Please take care of yourselves. I will have many snacks when I see you again.”

   “Requesting information: What are snacks?” The Andromon asks. 

   “Oh, goodness me. How exciting. Come, I will show you,” Moti reaches for Andromon's hand. After a moment of hesitation, the Andromon allows Moti to take him by the finger. “Lead me to your cafeteria, please. I will show you there.”

   “We do not possess a cafeteria.”

   “We must build one. Then I can show you what snacks are. We can even make some together,” Moti toddles away with the Andromon, but not before turning to wave goodbye to Holly and Pan. 

   “Y’know, I don’t think I really ever understood that saying, the one about how parting is such sweet sorrow? But I think I get it now,” Holly waves goodbye with her hand held high. “Looks like it’s just you and me again. You ready?”

   Pan nods. 

   “Alright, let’s blow this joint.”

   It took them the entire day to reach the outer perimeter of the junkyard. When the night pulled a blanket of stars across the sky, Holly tucked them away inside of a rusted tractor cabin for some well earned sleep. It was nice, and oddly enough, Holly felt fully rested after only a few hours.

   Halfway through the next day they had put the manufacturing facility far to their backs. But Dunefall would continue to loom over them. 

   The volcano delivers tremors across the desert. Holly’s knees are sent into a wobble. She nearly falls over. Rumbling like the belly of a sick whale, Dunefall erupts with an explosion of lava, rock, and spews of smoke. 

   Lightning flashes across the sky and thunder follows in booms that shake the desert. 

   Holly holds Pan tighter as if she stood a chance of protecting him. 

   It looks like a gateway to Hell up there. 

   Even after the volcano has settled, she can’t take her eyes off of it. She doesn’t know why. Maybe this is one of those train wreck instances, like watching the cloud from a nuclear bomb bloom over a city. Maybe she’s waiting for it to erupt again. Expecting it, even. 

   Or, maybe it’s because of the connection she feels she has to it through Pan. 

   It’s not home. But it is familiar. Familiar in the way existential dread takes root in us all. 

   Dunefall grumbles again. Low and slow like a gurgling pot of gruel.

   Dripping upwards like a lava lamp, glops of mottled red ooze into the sky. 

   “What is that?” Holly looks at Pan. He shakes his head. 

   “Y’know what? We’re gonna take that as a good sign,” Holly fakes her smile. “Let’s keep headin’ north.”

   “My dear, if I may?” Pan says aloud. “That lie was most dreadful.”

   “Yeah, yeah, whatever—“ Holly gawks at Pan like he just openly farted at a funeral. “Did you just…!?”

   “Affirmative. Seeing as we’re out of range and away from prying eyes, I’m able to lift my previous constraints and speak freely.”

   “What was holding you back?”

   “As you have witnessed, I’m a rather timid sort as Sol Kokuwamon. I must ask for your forgiveness, this is all new to me. I’ve never been made to take this form before.”

   “Hey, hey, you don’t have anything to apologize for. You’re good,” Holly doesn’t care to stop her smile from growing. “You’re so freakin’ cute! Oh, my god, I just wanna shake you!”

   Pan whines and tucks his head into Holly’s shoulder. “Why must you tease me this way?”

   “Because it’s fun. And because I can.”

   “Vengeance is a cruel mistress, liebling. I would tread lightly if I were you.”

   “You’re such a cute little toaster. Yes, you are,” Holly nuzzles Pan and laughs as he squirms. 

   She laughs harder when she shakes him and he squeals with beeps, chirps, and a few giggles of his own. 

   Once she’s met her quota, Pan turns his head like a possessed doll to look at Holly. “You will rue the day.”

   Holly sticks her tongue out at him.

   They continue across the desert for another hour with nothing but an endless stretch of sand dunes and blue sky ahead. 

   Glancing over her shoulder, Holly watches the ooze continue to spill upwards in slow motion. It’s oddly beautiful to her. Transfixing, even. Her mind wraps around the image of comparing it to the morbidity of observing blood roll down your leg after slicing it open. 

   “Tell me, how are your arms faring?”

   “Wait, my arms?” 

   “You would tell me if I were too heavy for you, wouldn’t you?”

   “Oh! Oh,” She snaps out of it. “Hey, don’t worry about it. You’re so good. I promise. I mean, hell, you’ve been toting me around this whole time. It’s the least I can do.”

   “It’s been my privilege, one I wish to return to as soon as I’m able.”

   “Don’t sweat it. We’ll get you back there soon enough. Besides, I’m used to hauling around stuff that weighs a ton more than you do. I’ve got this. I might not look like it, but I’m pretty freakin’ tough.”

   “You are indeed, as you say, freakin’ tough. This you have proved time and time again. But you are not invincible.”

   “Yeah, yeah, I know—“

   “Holly,” Pan says her name and it’s like he’s nine feet tall again. “You’re hearing me, but you’re failing to listen to my words.”

   “Ouch, but fair,” Holly winces. “I’m listening.”

   “Please note I’m not attempting to discredit you. I’m well attuned to all you’re capable of and more, but luck is statistically fickle. Please, my dear. You must exercise more caution for the times to come.”

   Rather than act on impulse, she tries to think about what she wants to say. 

   “I get where you’re coming from, I do. But, Pan. It was the only way. I wasn’t gonna lose you. And, I like to think you’d have done the same for me.”

   “Without hesitation. Prior to your arrival, I had made peace with trading my data for your safe return home.”

   Holly stops walking. “What?”

   “Indeed. You heard me correctly.”

   “And you’ve got the gall to tell me to be more careful? Are you for real right now?”

   “Judge me as you will, but mark my words. I would die a thousand deaths if it meant saving yours.”

   Holly smirks. “Not if I beat you there.”

    “Blast it all. I just knew you were going to say that,” Pan groans. 

   “Haha, you’re stuck with me now. No take backs,” Holly starts walking again.

   Sizzling data streams roaming off in the distance accompany their silence. 

   A packet of data rolls past them like a tumbleweed. One of the data streams teleports.

   Holly hugs Pan tightly and whispers, “Alright, you win. I’ll try to be more careful. I promise."

   Pan’s small chest engine whirs up a hum of approval. He nestles into her and emits a frequency of soft clicks, beeps, and dial up chirps. 

   “Danke dir, little one. You have my utmost gratitude.”

   “Little one? Nah, I’m the big guy now,” Holly peels Pan off of her and holds him up like Simba. “Which means you’re my little one. Yes, you are. Just look at you, my cute little mini heater.”

   Pan stares directly into Holly’s eyes. “I will spare you no mercy.”

   “Bring it,” Holly smirks.

   Braziers blazing with hellfire border Zhuqiaomon’s throne. Their calm cracklings accompany the Sovereign of the South as he looms from above, seemingly suspended in animation. 

   “Feel honored as you are welcomed to my domain,” Zhuqiaomon booms. “Allow my majesty to fill you with a sense of purpose.”

   Caturamon bows his head in silence. 

   “Yeah, yeah. Anyways, dog breath here said ya have a job for me,” Beelzemon points one of his guns at Zhuqiaomon. “So, cut the intro. Whaddya want from me, exactly?”

   Caturamon turns to glare at Beelzemon. “You insolent—”

   “Silence,” Zhuqiaomon roars like a judge commanding order over his courtroom. 

   Caturamon bows once again.

   Beelzemon keeps his gun on Zhuqiaomon. “I hope yous weren't talkin’ to me.”

   “And what if I was?”

   “You’d get a taste of my [Double Impact]. How’s that sound?”

   “I would have you swallowed in fire before you could pull the trigger.”

   “Awww, ain’t that adorable. Big bad Sovereign thinks he can toy with me,” Beelzemon smirks a toothy grin. “Yous ain’t gonna do crap or you woulda done so already.”

   “You are disrespectful. An ingrate. A fool of the highest order,” Zhuqiaomon’s voice swells before calming into a chuckle. “And are well suited for the task I am to set before you.”

   “Tryin’ to butter me up, are ya?” Beelzemon lowers his gun. “Keep talkin’ like that and I just might think you’ve got a thing for me.”

   “Complete this task and we can return to discussing our dynamic. It has come to my attention that a subordinate of mine staged a mutiny. He has since been deleted. Your target is his subduer, my favored creation. I originally believed he exterminated my subordinate out of loyalty, yet I’ve been recently made aware of his alliance with a detestable, human girl. This is unacceptable and must be dealt with immediately.”

   “Cute story. Why ain’t yous handlin’ this? Y’know, with it bein’ so personal and all.”

   “I am above personal vendettas.”

   Beelzemon laughs. “Sure, whateva you say.”

   “You will delete my prodigy and absorb his data. Return to me once you have completed this task.”

   “Listen, bubs. You might be Sovereign and all, but me? I don’t take orders from no one. I’m my own Digimon now. I get to decide the rules.”

   “How dare you,” Caturamon hisses. “You don’t know your place!”

   “Silence,” Zhuqiaomon roars once more and the palace quells. “It is beneath you to speak out of turn, Caturamon. Do it again and you will bear the brunt of my wrath.”

   Caturamon prostrates himself.

   He doesn’t utter another word. 

   “See, that? That right there? Yous ain’t gonna do that to me,” Beelzemon’s voice curls with a snarl. “Yous ain’t my master, and I sure as shit ain’t no dog.”

   “No, I am not your master. I am your Sovereign. Perform this operation and I will reward you with a power I have only granted one other.”

   Beelzemon pretends to look over his gun. “I’m listenin’.”

   “The life cycle of a Phoenix should be known to you as one of constant rebirth. When a fire fades, it is through my ambition it is reignited. I am life and I am death re-imagined. You will embody me and I will reignite his flames in you.”

   “That’s nice and all, but who comes after me? Cause this sounds like there’s always a bigger fish type of shindig, and I ain’t no can of sardines, ya hear me?”

   “No one shall supersede you, if you follow my orders.”

   Beelzemon clicks the hammer back on his gun and points it at Zhuqiaomon. “I said it before, but I guess it went in one ear and out the other. So, let me say it again real good and clear: Yous ain’t my master. Got it?”

   “Your target is Solar Andromon, my Son of Suns. Prove to me your worth by loading his data and you will be heralded as a DemiGod.”

   Beelzemon nods in thought.

   After a few moments, he starts smiling. “Well, pops. That don’t sound half bad. But we’re gonna start this off on the right foot, or I ain’t doin’ diddly squat. What’s the real reason you’re havin’ me do this? Yous scared or somethin’?”

   Zhuqiamon barks a laugh. “He is but a candlewick and I stand alone as the Lord of Hell. I am needed elsewhere,” A pause. “A greater threat has surfaced. Six children and four of their treacherous pets have entered our world—“

   “Wait, you talkin’ about pineapple head and those goody little two shoed runts? Heh. Cool your jets, pops. They ain’t nothin’ to worry about.”

   “Their arrival coincides with a disturbance in the digital world. Something neither human, nor Digimon. This true enemy is nipping at the seams of our reality. This is no mere accident. I will not stand idly by like the others and allow for humans to invade our realm. Make no mistake, this is a call to war. And I, as Sovereign, will answer.”

   The braziers pop and crackle, their flames casting cavorting shadows along the polished marble walls.

   Beelzemon looks at Caturamon from the corner of his eye, a frown attempting to dampen his face. Then he blows out a long, winded sigh.

   “Sounds like a big ol’ waste of time, they’re just a buncha snot nosed brats. But, hey, better yous than me. Don’t wanna have too much of a good time out there,” Beelzemon chuckles it off. “Speakin’ of fun, where can I find this so-called son of yours?”

Chapter fifteen: Between Jupiter and Mars

   One new message. 

   A forwarded article about Chernobyl. Something to do with reactor four. The radiation is spiking and no one knows why. 

   It’s just another scare tactic. Oldest trick in the book. Have to direct the public’s attention away from what’s really going on.

   Yamaki lights up another cigarette, agitated by the shake in his hand. 

   Empty cartons litter his glass coffee table. The floor. And he purposefully ignores the ones overflowing the waste bin on his balcony. He doesn’t have time for guilt.

   All that matters is getting those kids home. 

   He watches the time to render on his new project, a 3D ark in the making. Fourth one this week. The others have failed to breach the firewall. 

   Yamaki sucks down his cigarette and lights up another. Damn hand is still trembling. His mind lures him to the bottle of gin in the cabinet.

   No. He’s not that far gone. Not yet, at least. He has a job to do.

   Another cigarette. What were those kids thinking?

   They weren’t.

   Yamaki presses a fist against his forehead. They’re too young to understand the severity of the consequences bound to follow this little stunt they’ve pulled. 

   And now he’s absent from work. He’s been labeled a conspiracy theorist. Any credibility he once had is in shambles. Suspension without pay. Possible charges being pressed. 

   Digimon and those damned kids have taken everything from him.

   Yamaki smirks to himself. Now those kids and their data scum are all he has left. They’re his ticket back into good graces with the higher ups. 

   He’ll show them just how wrong they were for making him their scapegoat. Everyone wins when he’s involved. And everyone loses when he isn’t. 

   Fools. 

   His microwave dings. He doesn’t remember what he put in there.

   Another cigarette. Yamaki looks up from his monitor.

   Disgusting. 

   Living room is a mess. Inch thick dust. Crumbs littering the carpet. Wires weaving through it all and connected to his laptop. 

   This place is missing a woman’s touch. 

   Yamaki checks his phone. No new messages. 

   “Playing the long game, huh,” Yamaki smashes his cigarette against the coffee table.

   He lights up another. 

   Fine.

   He can wait. It’s not like Juggernaut and Yugoth were made in a day. Obraxis isn’t even finished yet. And it won’t be for some time. 

   The ark has to come first.

   Yamaki exhales smoke out his nostrils. 

   All that matters is getting those kids home. 

   For their sake and his. 

    Sunlight freckles the forest floor, peeking through the foliage. Birdsong tickles the air. 

   A breeze sweeps through Henry’s hair and he closes his eyes. 

    It smells like winter cresting into spring. Wet earth, honeysuckle, and, oddly enough, freshly cut grass. 

   Perched on top of his head, Terriermon flips upside down in front of Henry. 

   “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”  

   “Nothing, really.”

   “Seems like it’s something to me.”

   “I just didn’t think the digital world would be like this.”

   “Like what? You didn’t think we were gonna get spat out in some doom and gloom type of view, did you?”

   “I guess? I just didn’t think it would feel so much like home. Something is off.”

   Terriermon smiles. “Well, I felt the opposite about your world. It was nothing like home, but I knew I was meant to be there. Sheesh, I think I even miss Suzie a little.”

   A shadow darts behind a nearby tree. Neither of them see it. 

   “No kidding?” Henry toys with one of Terriermon’s ears. “I don’t know. I just feel bad because I don’t miss her. I mean, yeah, I’m worried about her, that’s kind of my job, but it’s nice to catch a break.”

   “I guess if you consider coming here to whoop some ass a break—“

   “Terriermon!” 

   “What?! Momentai, Suzie ain’t here. Jeeze. Lighten up a little.”

   A smooth, sultry voice like smoke on the water ghosts their ears.

   “Trouble in paradise?” 

   Renamon looks over at the two of them, her back pressed against a tree.

   Henry ignores her comment. “Have you guys found anything?”

   “No. Rika and the others are still searching.”

   “Okayyy,” Henry eyes Renamon with suspicion. “Then why are you here?”

   “I wanted to check on you.”

   “Oh, um,” Henry blinks a few times. “Wow, sorry. I just wasn’t expecting that. That’s… very nice of you. Thank you.”

   Renamon nods once. Henry blinks again and she’s gone. 

   “Well, good to know I wasn’t wrong. Something really is off.”

   “Not everyone is out to get you, y’know,” Terriermon says. 

   Henry’s muscles tighten. He doesn’t respond. 

   “I’m not out to get you, either,” Terriermon continues gently. “I’m your Digimon, Henry. Your friend. But I can only be as close to you as you’ll let me.”

   Henry watches a beetle waddle under a leaf, his face still like a broken clock. 

   “We need to keep moving. Nothing good is going to come of this if we don’t stop whoever was sending those Deva,” Henry straightens his posture. “Alright. Come on, let’s go. We’re not going to get anything done standing still, as sensei says.”

   Terriermon hops down and walks beside Henry as they scout the forest.  

   He chooses not to say anything. 

   It would take them a full day's worth of trudging up and over tree roots, pushing aside brush, and rock climbing to find their way back to the others.

   Opening the forest into a clearing, an oval lake fringed by reeds and lily pads alike greet them. A dragonfly wizzes by. It darts between the reeds. 

   Henry dusts his shoulder free of a cobweb and smiles at the group. “Man, am I happy to see you guys.”

   “Yeah! We’re happy to see you too,” Takato greets him with a high five. “What took you so long? We were starting to get worried.”

   “I wasn’t worried,” Jeri raises her sock puppet. “Yeah! Henry’s too smart to get lost. Bark! Bark!”

   Rika gestures with the back of her hand towards Kazu and Kenta. “Unlike these losers. Guess where we found them?”

   “Oh, can it, Rika,” Kazu fires back. “You have a Digimon. We don’t. It’s an unfair advantage and you know it.”

   “Yeah! It’s not our fault we can’t defend ourselves,” Kenta says. 

   “What happened?” Henry asks. 

   Leomon steps forward. “They’re lucky I found them when I did. A pair of Gekomon had them backed into a cave. If I hadn’t gotten there in time, they would have started singing.”

   Kenta and Kazu each hug one of Leomon’s legs and say in unison, “Thank you, Mr. Leomon! We’d have been total goners without you!”

   “Ugh!” Rika belts out a groan. “The two of you are worse than orange juice and toothpaste! Call me when something actually happens, I’m out of here.”

   Rika stuffs her hands in her pockets and disappears into the forest. Renamon follows her without a word. 

  “Just don’t wander too far off,” Henry calls out to her.

  “Why does she always have to be so mean?” Kenta asks. 

   “Yeah! Whatever did we do to her?” Kazu says. “It’s like she wanted us to get eaten by those Gekomon or something.”

   Leomon wiggles them off of his legs and crosses his arms. “They wouldn’t have eaten you. You were in no actual danger. I just wanted to save your ears the trouble.”

   Jeri covers her mouth and giggles. 

   Kazu turns to Kenta. “Sheesh, sounds like they’re worse than when you try to sing Karaoke.”

   “Hey!” Kenta whines. “I’m not that bad! My Mom even said so!”

   “That’s cause she’s your Mom, loser!” Kazu laughs. “Get a load of this guy.”

   Crickets. 

   The dragonfly zips to a hover over the still surface of the lake. 

   Guilmon pushes his snout into Takato’s palm for a nuzzle. Takato scratches the top of Guilmon’s head and says, “Annnnyyyyways, if those Gekomon weren’t actually dangerous, maybe we could try to get a lead off of them?”

   “That’s not a bad idea,” Henry turns to Leomon. “What do you think?”

   Leomon considers his question. “They’re singing leaves much to be desired. But, if you can set aside their odd behavior, they’re some of the more reasonable Digimon here in the digital world.”

   Kazu puts a hand on Jeri’s shoulder and grins. “Jeri’s a little off her rocker, and we don’t mind her! So, I’m game, what do you guys say?”

   Leomon’s pupils shrink to a sliver. He glares down at Kazu. 

   Silence. 

   Kazu gives Leomon an uncertain smile. “Um, heyyy there, big fella. Was it something I said?”

   Leomon continues to glare at Kazu, his hair prickling to stand on edge. 

   Jeri touches Leomon’s waist. 

   “It’s okay,” She smiles warmly. “I like being weird. Mom always said it was a good thing, and that it meant I had a personality.”

   Leomon closes his eyes, slowly fills his lungs, and releases his anger with an exhale. 

   “She was a very wise woman,” Leomon strokes the top of Jeri’s head. “As are you.”

   “We shouldn’t have brought them with us,” Henry whispers to Takato.

   Takato whispers back. “Yeah, but since when have Kazu and Kenta been able to take no for an answer?”

   Leomon gently lifts Jeri to a seat on his shoulder. “I will guide us to their village. It shouldn’t take long. Three days at most.”

   “Three days?!” Kazu and Kenta whine together.

   Leomon glares at them and says nothing.

   He begins walking forward. “It’s this way.”

   “Remind me not to get on his bad side,” Henry says to Takato. 

   Takato nods and says, “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

   “Isn’t this so exciting!” Jeri giggles to herself. “I’ve never been on an adventure before.”

   Leomon smiles. “May this be the first of many.”

   Henry clears his throat, puts his hands around his mouth in a cone, and shouts, “Rika! We’re heading out!”

   A few moments later she steps out of the brush, a twig poking out of her hair.

   “This had better be good,” Rika plucks the twig out of her hair and tosses it. 

   “Well, that would depend on what you classify as good,” Henry picks up Terriermon and sets him on his head.

   “We’re gonna go to the Gekomon village and see what we can find,” Takato laughs nervously, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry. It’s the best we’ve got.”

   Rika avoids their eyes. 

   “Don’t be sorry. It’s better than nothing,” She looks down at her Digivice. “Renamon?”

   Renamon appears beside her. “Yes?”

   “Let’s get going.”

   “Of course.”

   Rika and Renamon follow Leomon and the others, keeping their distance. 

   “We probably shouldn’t leave those two up there alone with Leomon,” Henry signals for Takato to follow him. 

   “I’ll say. Leomon could probably gobble them up in one bite,” Terriermon says. 

   “I wish I could gobble up some bread,” Guilmon’s ears droop.

   Takato laughs. “Is food all you ever think about, buddy?”

   “Yeah, I’m sorry.”

   “Hey, there’s nothing to be sorry about,” Takato leans down to whisper. “Between you and me, I’m always thinking about food too.”

   “Really?” Guilmon perks up. 

   “Yeah. Here in a minute let’s pull back a bit, then I can sneak us some Guilmon bread.”

   “Woohoo!” Guilmon nudges playfully into Takato and they both laugh. 

   Observing their dynamic from over his shoulder, Terriermon scoops his ears up into a hug. He watches Henry’s hair sift with the coming breeze for a minute or so. 

   “Hey, Henry?” 

   “Not now, Terriermon. I’m trying to think.”

   “Oh,” Terriermon hugs his ears tighter. “Okay. Don’t mind me, then. I’ll just sit up here. As usual.”

   Within the following three days they’d enter Jinglody, the Gekomon village tucked away within Ebonwumon’s forest. 

   Data streams carve through the desert, their hot pink glow akin to neon lights. 

   Left, right, forward and back. Some travel like bishops in diagonal strips. 

   The occasional straggler hisses by.

  “I don’t know if that was the best or the worst ham sandwich I’ve ever had in my life,” Holly leans back against an outcropping of rock, thankful for the shade. She slides down to a seat and licks the mayonnaise dripping down the side of her hand. 

   A glop drops onto her overalls. 

   She smears it off with a finger, looks at it, looks at Pan seated beside her, looks at it again, and—

   “I’m well aware of your thought process and would prefer if—“

   She wipes it on Pan’s face. They stare at each other. 

   The second stretch.

   She licks it off and cries out, “Ouch! Holy crap, your face is freakin’ hot!”

   “You don’t say?”

   Holly pouts her bottom lip. 

   “Negative. I will not be so easily persuaded.”

   She gives up, bringing her knees to her chest and holding them. 

   The data stream furthest away splits in two. They head in opposite directions and fizzle out. Another beams down from the sky. And another. Three more. 

   “I’m sorry,” Holly finally says. “I don’t think I know how to actually be someone’s friend. Maybe that’s why people don’t like me. I just do things that I think people who are close would do, and Mom’s always said to treat people how you want to be treated, so—“

   Pan points a claw at Holly and hits her in the face with a spray of oil. She coughs and tries to clean it off with her shirt. 

   “Did you really just?!” Holly spits black. “What gives—”

   Pan’s staring at Holly. It takes her a second. 

   She doesn’t know why she can’t look him back in the eyes right now. 

   But she smiles while looking at the ground regardless. 

   She smiles wider when Pan lays across her lap like a plank of wood after regulating his temperature. It takes a lot out of him in his rookie form. 

   “My sincerest apologies for my current state. I must seem rather drab by comparison. For you see, I lack the core processing power I typically have at my disposal. This has put me in a situation where I’m a fraction of the Digimon you knew,” Pan pauses and sparks nip between his magnet prongs. “But this fact does not change my love for you. Merely my ability to understand and accurately express it.”

   “Wait, why are you sorry? I’m the one that— Pan, no, oh, my god, I should go and chew on some rocks, you’re not drab, you’re so adorable right now and—wait. Does this mean you didn’t mind that I wiped mayo on you? For real?”

   “Affirmative. I find your language of expressing affection delightfully charming. I should warn you, however,” Pan’s small chest engine kick-starts with his chuckle. “My ability to store and process information as Solar Andromon is second only to Machinedramon. With this understanding out of the way, let it be known once I return to form I’m going to, as you say, freakin’ bury you.”

   Holly drums Pan’s back and giggles. “You wish.”

   They laugh together like children.

   A pair of data streams in perfect parallel roam along the desert. 

   “Well, think we should get going?”

   “Affirmative. Although, if I may: How are you faring, madam? This has been quite the journey thus far, and I would be beside myself if I were to say I wasn’t worried on your behalf.”

   “You mean today, or all of it up until now?”

   “Both, if you would be so kind.”

   Pan crawls out of Holly’s lap and she gets up to stretch. 

   “For right now? Ehh. I’ll make it. Sure, it’s hot, but I used to run track and field as a kid. So, it doesn’t bother me much. I’ve got strong legs,” She watches the data streams zig zag along the sands. “Would it be okay if I said I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me? It’s the only way I know how to put it.”

   “Only if I can return the sentiment. My life served little purpose before you. I was nothing more than a means to an end for Zhuqiaomon,” Pan pauses to fiddle with his claws. “I love you, liebling. Truly. More than every grain of sand in this desert, and more than every star in both of our skies.”

   Holly gets down on her knees to be at eye level with Pan. “I, um, don’t know how Digimon work when it comes to family stuff. But, back in my world, we’re taught from birth to love our families. It’s not something you really get to decide for yourself. It just is, kinda like the law of inertia. Can’t argue with physics, y’know? I got to choose you, though. No one’s told me I have to love you. And I’ve never loved anyone of my own free will until you.”

   She’s trembling and struggling to give him the eye contact she thinks he deserves at this moment. “I’m sorry. I’ve, um, never done anything like this before. I feel like I’m kinda dog water at it, but, I love you too. And I really mean that. More than every asteroid between Jupiter and Mars, and more than every bead of ice in Saturn’s rings.”

   Holly swallows thickly. Pan stares at her, sparks cracking between his prongs. 

   They grab each other into a hug like faithful lovers who haven’t seen each other in decades. If Holly could squeeze Pan any closer, she thinks they’d become one and share a body.

   She wouldn’t mind that. 

   A spark nips Holly’s hair and the bundle of strands poof. 

   They laugh together. Maintaining their embrace, Holly scoops Pan up and gets back onto her feet. They head out into the desert once again. Data streams criss-cross the horizon. One races a few yards ahead of them. A tumbling data packet bounces out of it and rolls away.

   An hour passes. Two hours.

   Three hours. 

   A data stream zooms by close enough for them to hear the air sizzling. It begins to rubber-band like it’s hit a high ping. 

   “Heyyy, um, I know it goes without saying to avoid those, but what would happen if one got a little too close?”

   “They’re dreadful things, truly. We’d find ourselves transported to an unknown location. Trust me when I say the risk far exceeds the reward.”

   “Yeahhh, about that.”

   There’s one heading straight for them. It pulls itself apart in patches of glitched data before zipping back together. Neon pink tints Holly and Pan in an unearthly glow. 

   She hits the ground sprinting in the opposite direction. 

   The sizzling at her back roars in volume. It’s unlike anything she’s ever heard, like if the splattering of bacon grease could howl like a werewolf. 

   But she knows the smell.

   Chemicals fused with smoke. Burnt ion.

   The light at her back is blinding. 

   Pan’s voice gently reaches her ear. “Worry not for what’s to come. I will keep you safe. I will protect you.”

   Holly’s next breath fills her lungs with water. 

Chapter sixteen: Drowning the Ocean

   It’s always been mankind’s dream to reach the stars. To colonize the moon. Voyage beyond our Solar System. And to find what’s on the other side of a black hole. 

   Yet ninety five percent of our oceans remain untouched. 

   It’s always been mankind’s dream to reach the stars. 

   But the ocean is our nightmare.

   Holly can’t decipher up from down. All she knows is she’s drowning in water darker than black. Brine makes a home in her lungs. It floods her nostrils. And burns like a vaccine of glass through her veins. 

   Before she fades, consciousness waning into a drunken stupor, she fights to reach for Pan. Somewhere. Anywhere. But he sank long before her. 

   Holly swallows her last gasp of water praying, hoping, and pleading for it to be air.

   A dreamy, cotton soft high sweeps over her. The dizziness is almost fun. And it’s oddly peaceful. She doesn’t think she’s ever felt so pleasant before. 

  The desperation in her chest subsides. She can’t feel the pain anymore. The water is cold but she’s comfortably warm. She even thinks she’s breathing again. It’s nice. A nap sounds nice—

   Her eyes slip closed.

   …It really is like falling asleep. 

   Holly’s Digivice ignites.

   Pan’s raised fist breaks through a tidal wave like a tank shell punching an ogres skull. Bracing his other against the surface of the ocean, he pushes himself up and rises out of the sea, choppy waters crashing against his thighs. 

   He unfurls his fingers and reveals Holly at the center of his palm, limp as a lifeless fairy. 

   His hearts seize at the sight of her.

   At that moment, neither one of them can breathe. 

   Calculating his next course of action, Pan’s visor scans Holly and highlights her upper body. He applies the necessary pressure to her chest with one of his fingers.

> Prognosis: Submersion Incident in a Liquid Medium.

> Respiratory Impairment Detected. 

> Performing Resuscitation. 

> Estimated Time Without Oxygen: Two minutes.

> No Known Neurological Damage Detected. 

> Cerebral Circulation Nominal. 

> Stage One Hypothermia Detected. 

> No Known Lethal Pathogens Detected. 

> Warning: Airway Obstructed. 

> Pulse: 55 BPM. Artificial Ventilation Not Recommended. 

> Calculating Appropriate Response. 

   Pan slants his palm just enough for Holly’s head to roll to the side. Maintaining rhythm with chest compressions, he gently tilts her head back with his thumb.

> Blood Pressure Increasing. 

> Thoracentesis Procedure Avoided. 

> Cardio-Respitory Arrest Avoided. 

> Emesis of Gastric Contents Incoming.

   Holly convulses. Pan gives her three more presses and her eyes shoot open. She gasps for air and coughs like a cigarette smoker choking on their own spit. Saltwater, bile, and loosely digested lumps gush out of her mouth. Pan aids her with sitting up. She instead chooses to roll onto her hands and knees, continuing to retch.

   Having only taken this form a second time, and despite the wealth of overwhelming power afforded to him, as he watches Holly’s desperate and guttural heaving, he realizes for the first time it’s not her that’s fragile.

   It’s him. 

   Holly tries to stand and her knees wobble. But she’s too weak. Pan slides a finger in front of her in support. Flimsy as a newborn giraffe, she leans against it. When he’s certain she can handle further movement, he gently shifts her into his other hand and away from the vomit puddling his palm. He swipes it clean through the water. 

   Storm clouds gather overhead. The rumbling of broken thunder follows. Water droplets tap against Pan like rain assaulting a tin roof. He shields Holly with his hands, cupping one over the other. A tidal wave that would terrify even the most seasoned mariner breaks against Pan’s hull.

   He brushes it off. 

   Pan emits a sonar pulse in search of dry land. His visor blinks with an arrow and directs him to look at the topography to his left. The blue hues of the sky and sea bleed like watercolor into gray. Raised like warts on an old toad, Pan’s scanners highlight a town near the shoreline. He takes note of the absence of color and stores it for further analysis at a later time. 

   Pan brings his attention back to Holly. Peeking between his hands as if she were instead a firefly he had caught, he gives her a fearful, albeit hopeful smile. 

   “ɴᴀᴜɢʜᴛʏ ᴏɴᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜꜱᴛɴ’ᴛ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴍᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ. ”

   Holly smiles weakly and flips him off. 

   Relief dressed as amusement puts a chuckle in his throat. Without further delay, Pan trudges through the ocean towards the town. The sea rushes to fill the space he was in with the roar of a thousand waterfalls. 

   Who knew the Digital World was so stinkin’ weak?   

   A Digimon not worth naming explodes with data, and Beelzemon blows on the smoke hissing from his gun. 

   “C’mon! Anybody?!” Beelzemon throws his arms out like he’s trying to rally a coliseum. “Don’t be shy! There’s plenty of your old pal Beelzemon here to go around!”

   Nothing but lazy sheets of sand sweeping across the desert answer him.

   Beelzemon scowls at his own amusement. 

   Not only is this place more pathetic than a piece of paper tryin’ to hold a brick, it’s ugly.

   Makes him miss Earth. Heh, never thought he’d think that one.

   But when you’re lookin’ at this waste of space and think about the time you saw some filthy brat’s skid mark? 

   It’s got Earth lookin’ like a nice, tall glass of water. 

   Beelzemon tilts his head back and sneers at the sky.

   Those kids can eat shit for all he cares. 

   “What are you doing?”

   Beelzemon catches Caturamon appearing out of the corner of his eye, seated atop an outcropping of rock. 

   “What? Does pops think I need a babysitter, or somethin’?” Beelzemon spins his gun around his finger. “Or maybe you’re here to get a taste of this.”

   “I’m here of my own free will.”

   “You’ve got that? Coulda fooled me! With that brown nose of yours and all, I’d have figured you’d be sittin’ pretty beside pops waitin’ for a treat.”

   “It gives me a headache trying to think down to your level,” Caturamon clears his throat. “Don’t make me repeat myself again. What are you doing?”

   “Aw, ain’t yous precious, thinkin’ I didn’t hear that little quip of yours. I’d mock yous more, but just look at ya! Hah! Too easy.”

   “Stop wasting time. Find Solar Andromon, eliminate him, and return to Zhuqiaomon at once.”

   “Ain’t yous talkin’ mighty big for someone within reach of my guns? Go find some spine to shiver up or somethin’, I’ll get to it when I get to it.”

   “No. You will get to it now. That is an order.”

   “The fuck did yous just say to me,” Beelzemon growls.

   “I’ve had enough with your delusions of adequacy. Do as I say. That is all.”

   Beelzemon screams as Caturamon walks through a portal and disappears. 

   “The fuck did yous just say to me?! Do yous know who I am?! Do yous know what I can do?!” Beelzemon yanks his other gun out. 

   He empties both clips into the rock Caturamon was seated on, the crack from each [Double Impact] deafening. He continues to reload, fire, and shout until the outcropping crumbles. “Do you know how many Digimon I’ve loaded?! Huh?! Well, do yous?! Answer me!”

   A gentle breeze passes through the debris of rock. 

   Brickish dust, pebbles, and a plastic wrapper tumble away.

   Silence. 

   Beelzemon’s nostrils flare. His chest is pounding. And his eyes are wider than a teenager taking their first bump of cocaine. 

   “I don’t need pops to make me no damn DemiGod,” Beelzemon knocks his kickstand back and mounts Behemoth. 

   He takes off gripping the handlebars like he means to fuse them to his hands.

   Within this moment, the only thing faster than Behemoth are his thoughts. 

    I don’t need no charity, I’m already a God! That’s right! I’m God now! 

   And I’m gonna find a way to become somethin’ more than that. 

   Heh. Yeah. I’ll kill this Solar Andromon punk, load em’, and then I’m gunnin’ for you, Caturamon. Never shoulda given me this kinda power. But I sure am grateful, I’ll give ya that. So, as a thank you, I’m gonna show yous how grateful I am by doing some mirrors a favor and wiping that smug look off your face. Think I might just take it for myself after that. Not like your data is gonna offer much else.

   Then I’m comin’ for pops. Gonna carve him up real nice like and serve him for dinner, then I’m gonna mow down the other three like they’re nothin’, cause they are nothing! Nothing! Yous hear me?! You’re all finished!

   I’m gonna be the Digimon Sovereign, the Sovereign of Sovereigns! 

   And no one can stop me.

    Condensation trickles down the asylum window in beads. Wrought iron beds with firm mattresses and no pillows decorate the upstairs rooms in packs of four. Bakemon, ghostly Digimon akin to torn sheets with Cheshire grins, haunt the halls with eerie moans. One of them bumps into a rusted cart of medical supplies. 

   Holly startles awake, shooting up in the bed Pan put her to rest in. She places a hand over her chest and wheezes.

   It hurts to breathe. And she can feel a headache rushing to catch up with her. 

   “Easy, mein Schätze. Take your time.”

   Holly finds Pan seated on the floor beside her bed, returned to form as Solar Andromon. Her breathing slowly eases and she nods. 

   Mattresses from the other beds have been moved to padding the cold tile of the floor around her. Dozens of pillows surround her bed. From her point of view, it looks like someone tried to arrange them in the fashion of a bird's nest. 

   Holly lays back into the overflowing pillows at her headrest. One slides off and Pan tucks it back into place. Seeking to pull her sheets up for comfort, Holly moves to do so and Pan gently takes over. Guilt drops her stomach out of her when she realizes it’s his overcoat. 

   “What happened? Am I— Did something happen? Why is everything black and white— Wait, wait, did I go color blind? What’s going on?!”

   “Be at ease, my love,” Pan plants a palm beside her. “Rest assured you’re not color blind. We are in the western town of Monochromia, the Sovereign Baihumon’s realm. All is well for the time being.”

   Holly.Exe has stopped working. 

   Please refresh her browser and try again later. 

   “Wait, what,” Holly blinks. 

   Pan lifts his hand to her face, touches her cheek, and his voice cracks with a whimper. “You nearly drowned. I had feared I had lost you.”

   Holly blinks at Pan again.

   Realization widens her eyes. “That data stream. It tossed us under water?”

   “Affirmative.”

   “How?”

   “Luck is a fickle thing, as I said. It was not in our favor this time.”

    Holly flinches like a child accused of stealing something she never took to begin with.

   She pulls away from his hand. “I-I didn’t mean it. I promise I tried to get away. I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying too—”

   “Negative. Neìn, no, no. Come to Pan,” He adjusts to sitting on his knees and the bed rattles from the commotion of his bulk. Leaning forward, he persuades Holly into his arms, cradling her like a mermaid with her tail wrapped in sheets. “My sincerest and most earnest apologies, mademoiselle. Mark my words, never was it my intention to incriminate you. The burden of blame falls solely on me. Our Wreath is but a few days old and I've already failed you.”

   Holly looks at Pan like he’s a got an ear for a nose. The seconds stretch. He tucks his chin down and frowns, visor pointed at the floor. She still doesn’t understand. He didn't do anything wrong, why is he acting like this? It’s like she’s trying to solve the square root of a fish.

   Unable to look away from her for long, Pan gives Holly a fearful, albeit hopeful smile. 

   “You Digivolved,” Holly blurts out. “You went Nuclear. Oh, my god. I was gonna die. I was right there. I remember. What the actual hell, I thought I was just taking a nap. Like, a really good one.”

   Without warning, Pan cups Holly’s face and glues his lips to her forehead. Warm air flushes her skin as he breathes through his nose. His chest engine idles with a deep rumble. Before he pulls away, he dotes on her forehead with another kiss. 

   “Never again,” Pan croaks. “You are, as you say, stuck with me now.”

   Holly nods. Over and over again. Tears gather in her eyes. She doesn’t know what to say while wiping them away. Therefore she sniffles and continues to nod. 

   Pan brushes the hair out of Holly’s face and tucks it behind her ear. As gently as he would lay to rest a newborn, he sets Holly back into her nestle of pillows. 

   Holly reaches a hand up to his face and touches his cheek. He welcomes her with a soft sound. Despite her apprehension, and not understanding why she’s afraid of him, she allows herself to stroke his cheek. 

   His chest engine purrs.

   There’s a lot she’d like to say to him. A part of her is screaming to go for it. The other has claws around her throat. He knows she loves him, right? How many times is she allowed to say it? 

   Are there rules to their relationship? 

   Are they in a relationship? What does that even mean?

   Holly glances between Pan’s lips and his visor. 

   Can she kiss him? Is that something Digimon and their Tamers do? Would that be pushing a boundary she doesn’t know about? Would it offend him?

   Would he like it if she kissed him?

   She thinks she’d pop with confetti if he kissed her. 

   A blush tints her cheeks at the thought.

   Holly glances between Pan’s lips and visor again.

   He catches her and his sweet, calm demeanor bends in favor of a wicked smirk. A guilty smile twitches at Holly’s lips in response.

   Busted! 

   Slowly, like she’s trying to escape a comedy show and avoid getting called out by the comedian, Holly pulls away from Pan. But he doesn’t allow her to get away. Smirk deepening, Pan follows her with his face in pursuit.

   She turns away from him.

   Nope. Not gonna look at him.

   His nose pokes her cheek. 

    _Squeaky

   She wants to freakin’ die right now. From out of the corner of her eye, she can see him grinning from ear to ear like he’s some sort of cartoon villain.

   “And just what were you thinking, liebling,” Pan sings.

   “That you should have let me drown.”

   “And miss a chance at this golden opportunity? Why, I’d never!”

   Holly buries her face in her hands. 

   Pan laughs with enough confidence to fluster a Greek god. 

   “Miss Leonhardt, do you find me sexy, hmmmm?”

   “Shut up!” Holly shrieks with giggles. She snatches a pillow and beats Pan with it. “Shut up! Oh, my god, go away!”

   All Pan does is laugh as the pillow slaps him.

   Holly’s face is unbearably warm. She’s panting through her nostrils like a bull, having grown tired faster than she’d like. However, he’s no longer laughing, merely chuckling, so she thinks she got her point across—

   Pan starts making kissing noises at her, puckering his lips. 

   “That’s it!” She grabs a second pillow. “Stop it! You’re gonna make me pass out! Freakin’ jerk wad!”

   He’s laughing even louder as she beats him over the head. His chest engine joins him, the bass shaking the paintings on the walls. 

   One of the pillows catches on a sharper edge of Pan’s hull. It tears. Feathers poof out everywhere. Holly doesn’t care and resumes with wailing on him. 

   Once that one’s lost its bulk, she grabs another pillow and continues, dropping her angry facade in favor of laughing alongside Pan. 

   Holly falls back into the bed out of exhaustion soon after. With what little energy she has left, she yeets one of the pillows at Pan. She uses the other to cover her face and mask her giggling. 

   Pan coughs out a cluster of feathers. 

   He tries to lift the pillow Holly’s using to cover her face. She grips it tightly and shakes her head.

   “Liebling,” Pan sings.

   “Go away,” Holly sings back, muffled. 

   “Negative. I wish to see youuuu, mein schönes Fräulein. Allow me to gaze upon your darling faaaace.”

   “I wanna freakin’ diiiiieeee.”

   Pan tries to lift the pillow again.

   Holly crosses her arms over it and grunts.

   He swaps to tapping a finger against his lips. “Hmmm. How peculiar of me. It seems I’m happening to recall something you said just now. It went along the lines of: ‘You’re so freakin’ cute, I just want to shake you’. Does this sound familiar?”

   Holly slowly peels the pillow down just far enough for her eyes to meet his visor.

   She shakes her head. Pan grins like the Grinch didn’t just steal Christmas, but Thanksgiving and Easter. 

   Holly ducks back under the pillow. 

   Just when she thinks she’s safe, Pan’s hands slip under her back. He laces his fingers together and crosses his thumbs over her stomach. 

   Holly just accepts it at this point. 

   “I freakin’ hate yoUUUU—!!!”

   They both laugh as he shakes her like he’s trying to erase an etch-a-sketch. She’s laughing louder than he is. 

   Holly kicks her legs and squeals, “Stop it! That tickles!”

   Pan pauses for a moment.

   “Oh. Oh, no. You poor, poor thing,” He spares her a pitying smile. “That was a bad move on your part.”

   Holly chucks the pillow at him. 

   She frowns and he returns a grin so deeply settled into his face that it’s pushing his cheeks up into his visor. 

   “I will spare you no mercy.”

   “Wait—!”

   With fingers like spider legs on roller blades, Pan tickles Holly and continues to shake her. She laughs, flails, and shrieks.

   “Stop, stop!” Tears pack her eyes. “Stop it!”

   “And ruin my fun?”

   “I’m gonna pee! Please!”

   “Hmmmm.”

   Holly squeaks like a mouse getting pinched. “Please!”

   “Did I not say you would rue this day?”

   “I’ll do anything!”

   “Will you now? Truly?”

   “Pan! I’m gonna pee! Please!”

   Pan cackles like an old man who just crapped himself in a packed elevator. It makes Holly laugh even harder. She thinks she’s gonna pop—

   Pan finally stops and smiles with self satisfaction at Holly while she fights to catch her breath. Once she has it, she savors every fill of her lungs. 

   “Ahhh. Now then, wasn’t that delightful. A marvelous thing, vengeance.”

   Holly’s too tired for a quip. 

   Pan can see it written on her face. 

     “Pardon the fun I’ve had at your expense. You presented me with an opportunity far too irresistible,” He smiles softly, earnestly. “Rest your eyes, mein Krümel. We will remain here and lay low for the time being.”

   Holly stares at the ceiling, panting. “Are we safe here?”

   “Inconclusive. In the meantime, we are at the very least less vulnerable here than the South. Baihumon will not hunt you. But he will kill you if given the chance,” Pan begins to growl. “Sovereign or not, he will learn I am no easy opponent if such an instant were to arise.”

   Holly rolls onto her side to face Pan, cleaning her eyes with her palm. “He doesn’t know we’re here though, right?”

   “Affirmative.”

   “Cool beans,” Holly stretches. “Oh, man. It’s so weird. I’m tired, but I’m not sleepy tired. Actually, I think the last time I slept was in the junkyard— When’s the last time I ate something? Was it that ham—“ A pause. “Have I really just been living off of a ham freakin’ sandwich a day? And didn’t I just upchuck the last one?”

   “Multiple questions cited. Conclusion: Affirmative on all accounts. Ahem, while you’re inherently biological, it wouldn’t surprise me to know you’ve slowly acclimated to the digital world by accepting data into your DNA.”

   “How?”

   “By virtue of the air you breathe. Amongst many other outlying factors.”

   “I mean, don’t get me wrong, that’s cool and all, like, really cool, but I don’t get how that ties back into things.”

   “This world is not bound by the logic of yours. Excluding unique circumstances such as myself, we Digimon require very little rest, and even less in terms of substance. These functions are viewed more often than not as luxuries. You may find the longer you’re here the more you’ll adapt to our system of operations.”

   “Wait, wait, wait, slow down. Are you saying I don’t need to eat and sleep as much?”

   “Affirmative.”

   “But I love to eat and sleep!”

   “As I’ve noticed,” Pan chuckles. 

   Holly frowns.

   “Come now, don’t make such a face. This is only temporary. I will have you home safe and sound soon enough.”

   “What if I don’t want to go home anymore?”

   “I beg your pardon?”

   Holly pulls her Digivice out and looks at it. “I don’t want to go if you can’t go with me.”

   “Ah, yes. But of course! Rest assured the feeling is strongly mutual. Nothing less than the digital world being torn asunder would prevent me from accompanying you.”

   “Really?” Holly’s face lights up. “Oh, man, I can’t wait for you to meet my Mom. She’s totally gonna freak out.”

   “Do you believe she’ll find me sexy?”

   Holly laughs. “Probably, yeah.”

   Pan dips his chin down with a smirk. “Perhaps you’re able to answer on her behalf because you, young lady, think I’m sexy?”

   Holly.Exe has crashed. 

   Please restart her web browser and try again later.

   If this issue persists, please open her task manager and clear all web pages listed as: Flustered by Pan.

   “Shut up!” Holly giggles. “Ugh, why are you like this?!”

   “It’s due in part thanks to your reactions, they’re positively delightful to me. The other source is simple. It’s who I’m freely allowed to be.”

   Holly looks at her Digivice once more. The seconds stretch.

   She strokes her thumb over the screen. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

   “You’re here now, Schätzen. And I would be beside myself to ask for anything more.”

   “Trust me, you could ask for more. A lot more,” Holly shakes her head, eyes cast downward. “Why did you pick me?”

   “Come again?”

   “Y’know, me. As your… tamer. Listen, Rika has this whole thing about how she chose Renamon, and how Renamon chose her, because they both wanted to be the strongest ever, or some crap like that. So, why did you choose me? You’re already so strong.”

   “I’m not as strong as you believe me to be.”

   “That’s where you’re wrong. I might not know a lot about the digital world, but I know a lot about Digimon. And I know Machinedramon is almost right up there with the Sovereign. You beat him, Pan.”

   “Correction: We beat him. We conquered him together, Holly. I could not have achieved such a feat without you. Nor would I have been driven too. While yes, you are correct in your assumption, my power is rarely rivaled. Yet understand this: It’s merely power. A means to an end. Nothing more.”

   “But you’re not just strong in the fisticuffs kind of way,” Holly looks up into his visor. “It takes a lot to be around someone like me.”

   “Negative. Nonsense. Don’t speak such rubbish. You’re as natural to me as the air I filter to breathe. While I’m skeptical of others finding you a burden, I would like for you to know this: You aren’t perfect for everyone, this may be true. Yet you are perfect for me.”

   “But I don’t do anything! I don’t bring anything to the table, I’m just me—“

   “Precisely,” Pan pulls Holly’s face into his hands. “You’re you. Ich liebe dich, Schätze. I love you. I believe I chose you the moment you fell into my arms. Simply because you’re you. Charming, unfiltered, and filled to the brim with passion. You’re the Digimon queen, liebling! How could I dare to ask for more?”

   The world stops to turn and watch her.

   “Um, about that. There’s something— there’s something we should maybe talk about. I mean, let me put it this way. We’re gonna get hypothetical real quick. How would you feel if someone lied to you to make themselves look better?”

   “Lies are inefficient,” Pan remarks. “I would lose any and all respect for said hypothetical individual. If I had any respect for them to begin with, that is.”

    Holly rattles with an anxious laugh. “Oh, y’know, I’m the same! Yeah! Someone who’s gotta tell a fib like that is super lame. Pathetic too, yeah?”

   “Indeed. If one were to label them an imbecile, it wouldn’t be an insult, rather a means of describing them to others,” Pan dusts a patch of feathers out of Holly’s hair. “How genuine you are, my dear. It makes my black box sing. Now then, what did you wish to discuss with me?”

   “That was pretty much it! Yeah, I just wanted to ask you that because— um, well, I’ve been told a lot of lies before. Hahaha, y’know, but who hasn’t?”

   “I’m detecting a significant spike in your endorphin levels. Conclusion: Stress. What happens to be troubling you— Oh, my most precious one. I see, you believe me to have been lying to you.”

   “Wait, no, that’s not it, I—“

   Pan puts a finger to Holly’s lips. “Don’t allow for the lies you’ve been told to persuade you from me. Lying to you would serve me no purpose. Rather, I believe it would create space between us. And I would, as you say, rather chew on rocks than allow that to happen.”

   “I’m sorry. I am so sorry. For everything. For now,” She can’t bear to look at him. “And for later.”

   The skin around Pan’s visor creases. He looks confused. Dumbfounded. And oddly hurt. “Internal comprehension failure. Fräulein, you have nothing to apologize for. It’s quite alright. Never forget: We share a remarkable bond, you and I. Our wreath in and of itself is proof of this.”

   At the mention of their wreath, she leaps at the opportunity to change the subject. 

   “Y’know what? You’re right. I’ve never felt so close to someone before. And I’ve never had anyone want to be close to me, either,” Holly offers him her Digivice. 

   Pan hesitates to accept it and she lays it in his palm. It’s so small in his hand by comparison, like a remote to a toy car. 

   “It’s yours too, y’know. It ain’t just mine.”

   Silence.

   “…Perhaps it’s absurd of me, and yet, I feel as if scanning this would come across as disrespectful. Regrettably, I don’t believe I even can,” Pan whispers. “Even if I could potentially access the database, I’d find it barren absent Machinedramon’s influence.”

   “Wait, is he the one that kept it up? For real?”

   “As real as a ShogunGekomon choir, I’m afraid.”

   “Y’know, that’s fair,” Holly looks around the room like she’s trying to see if anybody is watching them. “You wanna try it anyways?”

   “Negative.”

   “Aw, c’mon. What’s the worst that could happen?”

   Pan gives Holly the look. You know, the one that says what you’re also thinking as the reader right now? Yeah. It’s that one.

   “Alright, alright,” Holly puts her hands up. “I’m just curious about it too, is all. I mean, the others don’t know much about them either. Just that they symbolize their relationship with their Digimon. Oh, and the whole Digivolving thing. Man, these things really are like catnip for you guys.”

   “May I ask you what this ‘catnip’ is you’re referring too?”

   “It’s pretty much a drug.”

   Pan barks a laugh. “It’s less about the wreath, my dear, and more about the Tamer attached.”

   He hands her the Digivice back, and she clips it onto her belt loop.

   “Wait, are you sayin’ I’m the drug?”

   “My favorite,” Pan smirks. 

   “Um, you’re my favorite too. I’d do you all the time, if I could—“

   Holly stops. 

   She just stops. 

   Do not pass go, and she’s not collecting two hundred dollars. 

   Please let that go over his head. 

   Please let that go over his head. 

   Please let that go over his head. 

   PLEASE—

   “Everything I am is yours,” Pan smiles softly. “The love I carry for you is in no short supply, rest assured. You may have your fill of me and more to your heart's content.”

   Oh, thank freakin’ god. 

   Holly sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed to be closer to Pan. She gestures for one of his hands. He obliges. 

   She holds his hand with two of her own. “I don’t think I could ever have enough of you. I love you.”

   Pan’s chest engine brightens. He cups the side of her face, gazes into her eyes, and a Bakemon floats by their room. It screeches like a banshee at a rave party. 

   Holly screams and hops into Pan’s lap, scrambling to lace her arms around his neck. 

   “W-What the hell was th-that?!”

   She rapidly looks between the door and Pan’s face and—

   Oh.

   Pan’s lips have curled back, exposing his gums and rapidly sharpening teeth. 

   Holly tucks her head down. “Y’know what, that’s way scarier than whatever just went by. Yeah. You’ve definitely got them beat, big guy. Holy cannoli.”

   A growl snarled up from deep within his throat distorts the frequency of the air. He rolls his tongue over his teeth and they shorten to their original shape.

   “My apologies for the uncanny behavior. As you may have noticed by now, I’m rather protective of you.”

   “It’s okay! Really! I just, uh, don’t know whether to be scared outta my mind, or really impressed. Cause, uh, yeah. Wow.”

  As he picks up to stroking Holly’s back, Pan rumbles with a snicker. “Let one of those loathsome scoundrels slip through that door, and we’ll find for ourselves where you stand on the matter.”

   “Dude, I saw how you beat the snot out of that Andromon. I know you don’t fool around.”

   “Ah, danke dir, meine Lieber. I had nearly forgotten how his deletion thrilled my circuits. You should know I was rather fond of when you managed to, as you say, yeet your shoe at him.”

   “You did not just say yeet, oh, my god,” Holly laughs. 

   Pan’s shoulders broaden with a smile. A Bakemon melts out of one of the paintings behind them, extends an arm across the room, and taps Holly on the left shoulder. 

   She looks left. Nothing. She looks right and a second Bakemon appears, screams at her, and reaches for her chest.

   Holly screams back like she just saw a cockroach on her arm. Pan tucks her head down and blasts the Bakemon with his visor. It disintegrates. The other Bakemon swoops around their backs and snatches Holly’s ankle. It tries to grab the neckline of her shirt and she kicks it away. Pan’s lasers pop out of his shoulders, trilling with pin point glows. 

   The Bakemon pops with a firework of data a second later. 

   Pan watches it scatter and growls, “I’m far too tempted to load the little bastard.”

   Holly’s too busy not having a heart attack. 

   “Yeah,” She finally says out of breath. “Yeah, no kidding. I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

   Pan snorts smoke out his nostrils. 

   “Hey, um, why don’t you absorb other Digimon?”

   Using the opportunity to lovingly sit Holly onto the bed, Pan collects himself.

   “It’s as I once told you, my dear. We cannot truly die unless our data is absorbed by another. While true that it’s written within my code to fight, and trust me when I say I do happen to enjoy authorizing lethal force, I must draw the line at such an unnecessary evil.”

   “Doesn’t absorbing them make you stronger, though?”

   “Affirmative. Yet I do not require they sacrifice their lives on my behalf. In honor of entertaining the idea, even if I did happen to absorb as many Digimon as I could defeat, the power they’d afford me wouldn’t hold a candle to what we share.”

   Holly’s Crest illuminates from beneath her shirt. In a stark contrast to the colorless town of Monochromia, it’s shining a brilliant, crystalline blue.

   She takes it off and holds it up like a pocket watch. 

   The screen glitters. 

   “Whoa,” She whispers. “Why is it doing that?”

   “I cannot be certain,” Pan whispers back.

   “I thought they only activated when they were being embodied. But I don’t know what this one is, or what it means.”

   “You know what this trinket is?”

   “Yeah, it’s a Crest. But I don’t know what it’s meant to resemble.”

   “Internal comprehension failure. Fräulein, please elaborate.”

   “Y’know how I said I know a lot about—“

  A Bakemon howls like a demon having stubbed its toe near the door. 

   “Dude, shut it!” Holly barks. “I’m tryin’ to explain something here!”

   Pan stifles a poorly restrained chuckle. 

   “For cryin’ out loud,” Holly mutters. “Anyways, remember how I said I know a lot about Digimon, just not the digital world? Well, it’s, um— It’s because I really like Digimon. Like, a lot. A lot, a lot. I’ve read all the books, know even more about the cards, and I would’ve watched the cartoon, but it got cancelled.”

   “There are books, you say?”

   “Yeah! It’s pretty cool, cause back in the 80s, Digimon were originally the pet project of a group of college students who wanted to make a video game centered around having, ummmm,” Holly winces. “Monsters as pets.”

   Pan rests his chin on his fist and smirks at Holly. “Do continue.”

   “Well, I, um— I mean, in any case, the project got shut down half way through the making. It was something to do with the Cold War and the fear of Rogue AI.”

   “Internal comprehension failure. Warning: User is unable to access the database and cannot research the term: Cold War. Please elaborate.”

   “Cool your jets, big guy. That’s a whole different topic. I’ll give you the run down on that one later. I mean, History ain’t my strong suit, but trust me when I say I know a lot about the Cold War, and World War Two. Pretty much anything that has to do with Nuclear stuff, really.”

   “One could say you’re a database in and of yourself, no?”

   Pan tickles the underside of Holly’s chin. She giggles and playfully bats him away. 

   Still smiling to herself, she loops her crest back around her neck. 

   It shimmers like a Christmas ornament.

   “There’s a lot I know, but there’s a lot more I don’t know. Like, never ask me about anything predating the 50s. Unless it’s about Nikola Tesla. That dude is freakin’ fascinating. Or the Kellog’s guy! Yeah, he’s bonkers. I kinda went down the rabbit hole on him one day.”

   “A tease, you are, to withhold such treasured information. How long will you keep this knowledge hostage, hmmmmmmmmm?”

   Holly twiddles her thumbs. “We’re gonna be staying the night here, right? And I don’t have to sleep much, plus you’ll be in Standby mode soon, it’s not like we’re going anywhere, so, um, if you’d like, which it’s totally okay if you’d rather not, but, I could tell you all about that stuff later? Again, it’s okay if you don’t—“

   “Do you happen to recall our time spent at the train station together? You said something to me, Fräulein. Something I wish to reciprocate.”

   “You’re gonna want to be more specific,” She pauses to frown at herself. “I say a lot of things.”

   Pan goes to speak and an audio recording of Holly’s voice replaces his own. “Yeah. I’d love to know more about you.”

   Holly freezes like she’s stuck in a photograph. 

   …She always likes to tell people she’s an open book. You can ask her anything, she says. 

   Where she finds the best tools for the best price? Check. Gatekeeping is cringe. 

   Want help with your homework? As long as you can make it sound interesting to her, she’s in. She’ll probably do it for you in that case. Check.

   Her Grandpa’s death and how it changed her? Check. She doesn’t mind being a point of reference for the suffering of others. No one should go through stuff like that alone.

   Not like she did. 

   So, she’s always seen herself as an open book. But she’s confused the summary on the back with what’s really inside of her. 

   No one’s cared to read further than that. 

   She’s not used to someone like Pan wanting to know what she likes. What her dreams are. And how she’d like to change the world, if given the chance.

   What’s she doing here?

   Holly hugs herself. 

   She doesn’t say anything.

   “Young lady,” Pan clasps a hand on Holly’s leg. “What is the meaning behind this behavior?”

   Holly shakes her head.

   “Don’t worry about it,” She mumbles. “I’m fine. Just need a sec, is all.”

   He gives her a light squeeze. “What made you this way?

   Silence.

   “Who,” His tone sharpens significantly.

   “It’s not just one person,” She mutters. “It’s all of them. Once bitten, twice shy, y’know? Like, here, let me gear it towards you this way: As a mechanic, I like to learn the ins and outs of things. Partly because it’s my gig, another because I think it’s cool, and the other’s because I don’t want to make the same mistake over and over again.”

   Holly looks up into Pan’s visor. She’s not crying, but her eyes are red. Sullen. And like she’s been asleep but her mind never rested. 

   “I know I ain’t perfect. I know I’m annoying, loud, and not the good kind of weird. I ramble on about stupid stuff no one cares about. And that’s gotten me made fun of. A lot. I mean, you know it’s bad when even the nerds make fun of you. Like this one guy, Kazu,” She says his name like she’s spitting it out of her mouth. “I don’t think I ever told you my tournament name, Mecha Maniac. I know, I know. It sounds lame. But at the time I thought it sounded clever. Flash forward to High School, and ever since Kazu started showing his stupid face around, I’m now known as Mecha Moron. I freakin’ hate it. I wish I never would’ve named myself that.”

   Every gun, laser, and rocket Pan has at his disposal begin to itch.

   “They all like Digimon too, Kazu and his friends. I mean,” Holly laughs at herself. “Three of em’ are tamers. It’s such a freakin’ joke, the only one who even comes close to liking Digimon as much as me is Takato. Like, sure, Rika knows a lot too, but just about the card game. I think she could give a hoot about the books, the actual history behind them, and the cool stuff people write online. But at least she doesn’t make fun of me. Not that I know of, at least. She just spares me a dirty look sometimes,” Holly trails off. 

   Pan stares at her with undivided attention, waiting for her to resume. 

   She looks down at her hands. “Kazu’s the worst, though. He always has something to say. Like, if putting your foot in your mouth was a person, it’d be him. He’s always making fun of the way I play, always tellin’ others how lame my Metal deck is, and that I’m a sore loser,” Holly balls her hands up into fists. “Well, maybe I wouldn’t be such a sore loser if he didn’t rub my nose in it every time he freakin’ wins!”

   She raises her voice. “And I hate it when he calls me Mecha Brainiac. It’s not my fault he’s stupid. So what if I answer questions before I get called on? I get excited that I know something for once, Jesus Christ! And it’s not like I’m right all the time. That’s Henry. But Kazu doesn’t get it. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have people talk all over you. Maybe, just maybe, I have to be loud so I’ll get heard for a change!” 

   Pan’s chest engine idles like a generator choking on coal.

   Holly settles herself down, turns her chin to her shoulder, and smiles wistfully. 

   “But, it’s like I said. I’m a mechanic, y’know? I don’t like to make the same mistake twice. So, I just don’t even try anymore. Heh, get a load of this one. Last time I actually did, it was with a Digimon and he came after me,” Holly digs her screwdriver out of her pocket and shows Pan the melted handle. “All I wanted to do was tell him about the paper I was writing. But he thought it was stupid. So, he made fun of me, and when I told him I couldn’t hang out with him, he chucked a fireball at me.”

   “It’s stuff like that, jerks like him and Kazu, who ‘did’ this to me. But, I know I’m to blame too. After all, it’s me we’re talking about. They wouldn’t be mean to me if there was nothing to be mean about,” Holly stuffs her screwdriver back into her overalls. “I just wish I didn’t have to choose between having friends and being myself.”

   “If you would be so kind as to tell me this Digimon’s name,” Pan says flatly. 

   “Wait, you mean Impmon? Eh, forget about him. He’s nothing compared to Kazu. Seriously, I’d be so much better off without him around.”

   “New target acquired."

   “Wait, what?”

   “New target acquired.”

   “Does that mean you wanna kill him?” Holly laughs Pan off. “Dude, I wish.”

   “Wish granted.”

   “Wait, are you being serious right now?”

   “Affirmative.”

   Holly’s stomach drops. 

   “Whoa there, big guy. Okay, let’s take a biiiig step back. Kazu is a freakin’ jerk, you’ve got me there. But trust me on this one, he’s not worth it.”

   Pan stares motionlessly at Holly.

   Silence.

    “Pan,” Holly pats the air to ease the tension. “He’s not worth it.”   

   She flinches when he jerks his head to the side and growls like a bear possessed by a demon. A nasty sneer peels his lips back. His teeth sharpen. 

   It’s hard for her to remember that while sweet by his own decision making, Pan is a digital monster.

   Holly tries to make herself as small as possible. “I’m sorry.”

   Diesel pipes burst out of Pan’s calves and erupt with pressurized steam.

   The temperature in the room increases. 

   “Negative. Neín, little one. It is not you who has amassed my ire,” Pan sighs and his teeth draw back. “Rather, it is your lack of freedom at the behest of this waste of human flesh you speak of.”

   Holly doesn’t say anything. Not at first.

   She doesn’t know how to look at him, or how to respond.

   Some people lock their secrets in a box and swallow the key.

   Holly keeps her secrets inside and tossed the key a long time ago.

   …Maybe she should find it again. 

   “I’ve never had anybody get upset for me before. Not like you have,” She shakes her head. “I’ve never had anyone want to do something about it, either. Is this what it’s like? To be on the other side of someone caring about you? I don’t know why but it feels awful, like I’ve baited you into it or something. I mean, you look like you want to go and wage a war right now. But what’s there to fight for, really? My life ain’t that big. I’m not worth all that trouble.”

   “Not only are you worth ten thousand crusades, you are worth fighting alongside them. I cannot defeat the foes made real within you, but mark my words, we will drown them out together. You’re no longer alone, meine Lieber. Just as you’ve shown me there’s more to life than serving a higher authority, I will show you there are more ways than one to defeat an opponent.”

Chapter seventeen: Would You Hold Me?

   Paper lanterns hung by string-wire connect the tree huts of the Gekomon village, appropriately named: The Great Gekomon Village. Mushroom platforms bend upwards out of tree bark with each supporting a cluster of homes. 

   Market stalls with thatch roofs encircle the trunk of a tree at the center of the village. Standing significantly taller than the rest, The Great Gekomon Tree rustles as Digi-Fairies giggle and poke their heads out through the leaves. 

   One plucks an acorn from a branch. Bearing it above its head, the Digi-Fairy takes aim and chucks the acorn. 

   “Ow,” Kazu rubs the back of his head. “Hey, what was that all about?”

   Kazu looks over his shoulder and frowns at Takato. The Digi-Fairy snickers and disappears into a floating orb of light. 

   “What gives, man?” Kazu says.    

   Kenta chimes in. “Yeah, what gives?”

   “Huh?” Takato says.

   “Don’t huh, me. You just junked an acorn at me!” Kazu says. 

   “Yeah! Fess up, Takato,” Kenta says. 

   “Um, I don’t get what’s going on,” Takato says. 

   “Uh-oh, looks like someone’s in trouble,” Terriermon puts a hand over his mouth and chuckles. 

   “You’re not helping with that,” Henry says. “Can we just move on, please? We already wasted yesterday talking with the Gekomon and they weren’t of any help. So, I’d like to get a head start on trying to gather something useful today.”

   “Sure thing, Chum Lee. Right after Takato apologizes to me.”

   “But I didn’t even do anything?”

   “You bopped me with an acorn, bozo!”

   “No, I didn’t.”

   Kazu lifts one finger. “Yes.”

   A second. “You.”

   His middle finger. “Did.”

   “Is this really the right time to act like this?” Henry asks. 

   “It looks like the right time to me,” Terriermon giggles. 

   “Again, you’re not helping.”

   “But I didn’t even do anything,” Kazu adopts a stuffy nosed accent to mock Takato. “Whatever, man. But it’s pretty lame that you’d lie like that in front of Jeri.”

   “Burn,” Kenta says. 

   Takato blinks between Kazu and Jeri, his cheeks beet red. “B-But, I didn’t—“

   Kazu elbows Kenta and they snicker like teenage dirtbags. 

   “Boys are so silly,” Jeri giggles to herself and gestures with her puppet. “Yeah! Boys will be boys! Bark! Bark! And boys are bad liars. Bad liars, bad!”

   Leomon crosses his arms. “Yes, they are. And I would appreciate it if you all would develop some manners. It should be beneath you to act like this infront of a young lady.”

   Jeri continues to sign with her puppet. “Jeri thinks it's funny how boys are. They get upset over the silliest things. Silly, silly!”

   “Yes, they do,” Leomon says. “Which is why they are boys and not men.”

   “Burn,” Kenta and Terriermon say at the same time.

   “Really, Terriermon?” Henry scoffs. “Again?”

   “Whaaaaat? I’m just having a bit of fun, sheesh. Momentai, it’s not like I can just sit up here and be quiet all day.”

   “Yeah, well, it would be nice for a change if you— never mind. Can we just set this aside for now, you two?” Henry says to Kazu and Takato.

   Terriermon holds his ears and frowns. “I hear ya loud and clear, Henry.”

   “It’s like I said,” Kazu puts his hands behind his head. “All Takato’s gotta do is apologize. We all know he’s the real one holding us up.”

   “You know what? Fine,” Takato looks up and away. “I lied about throwing the acorn at you, and I’m sorry. Can we go now, please?”

   “Takato-Mon, you shouldn’t lie. You didn’t throw it, it was one of the Digi-Fairies,” Guilmon points his nose to the canopy. 

   Glowing dots zip in and out of the leaves, trailed by glittering ribbons of light. 

   Two acorns bounce off of Guilmon’s head. 

   He giggles. “See? I think they want to be our friends.”

   “Some friends,” Kenta huffs. 

   “Yeah, well, I still don’t believe him,” Kazu shrugs. “But it’s whatever, man. Water under the bridge.”

   Before Takato can speak up, Henry takes the lead. “With that out of the way, I think it would be best if we split up into groups like we did last time. We’ll be able to cover more ground that way. I’ll go with Takato, Kazu and Kenta will stick together, and Rika can go with Jeri—“

   Henry looks around for Rika and sighs. “Did we really lose her again?”

   “She went into the forest! Bark! Bark! Rika wants to be alone. Alone, alone alone,” Jeri’s sock puppet sings. 

   Jeri returns to herself.  “I think she just needs some alone time. But, I’ll be okay. Besides, I have Leomon now.”

   Leomon smiles down at Jeri. He sets a paw on top of her head and gently tousles her hair. “Jeri is right. We should give Rika the time she needs. If the young girl is anything like me, she may be missing for a while. But she will return. She is a warrior, after all.”

   “Um, Leomom?” Jeri looks away and plays with the ends of her hair. “I know I’ve asked before, but, do you really think I’ll be as strong as Rika one day?”

   “You cannot compare yourself to her. You are both different people and incredible in different ways,” Leomon bends down to whisper in Jeri’s ear. “Between you and me, I think you’re already stronger than she is. And you’re prettier.”

   “Leomon!” Jeri giggles and slaps the air as if to playfully push him away. “You’re such a flirt!”

   Leomon chuckles. He returns to his full height and crosses his arms, the touch of a smile resting on his face.

   “Rika can take care of herself, you know. That chick’s got nerves of steel,” Kazu says. 

   “Yeah, well, just because she can, doesn’t mean she should have too,” Henry says. 

   Takato rubs his neck and rattles with an anxious laugh. “Sooo, uh, guys? Think we should maybe head out now?”

   “No time like the present,” Henry gestures with his head towards the market stalls.

   Just as they begin to walk towards them, Guilmon sniffs the air.

  “Takato-Mon, do you smell that? I think I smell something to eat nearby.”

  “No way!” Kazu and Kenta shout together. “There’s food here?!”

   They scramble over one another and hit the ground running. They laugh as they elbow between Takato and Henry, shooting forward to give them a head start towards the market. 

   “See you losers later!” Kazu waves.

   “Yeah! You guys can find somewhere else to look!” Kenta calls back. 

   Guilmon whimpers, his ears drooping. “But my tummy wanted to go there.”

   Takato winces with pleading eyes at Henry. Henry sighs, but the look on his face says he understands. “Meet back here in an hour?”

   “Yeah,” Takato nods. “Thanks, Henry. C’mon Guilmon, let’s go out there and see what we can’t find.”

   “Mhm!” Guilmon says. “We’re gonna go find food and clues! Wahoo!”

   Takato and Guilmon laugh together as they head towards the market. 

   Henry watches them until they fade into the crowd of Gekomon all wearing different hats, scarves, or other accessories. 

   “You’re awfully quiet up there,” Henry says. 

   “Who, me?” Terriermon shrugs. “And here I thought you had forgotten I was even here.”

   “It’s kinda hard to forget I have a Digimon on my head.”

   “Yeah, well, for someone who thinks I’m hard to forget, you sure are good at it.”

   “What’s been with you lately?” Henry’s tone sours. “Why are you acting like this?”

   “Acting like what, Henry? Like I’m just supposed to sit up here quietly like I’m Princess Pretty Pants again or something?”

   “You’ve been doing the opposite of that. Can you please stop? You’re acting like Suzie right now.”

   “So, you’re gonna get sick of me like you got sick of her too, huh? Maybe I should have stayed back there with her.”

   Henry bites back the hateful comment on his tongue. “Can we just set this aside for now?”

   “Sure, whatever you say. I’ll just be up here waiting until you take me out of timeout, I guess.”

   Henry practices a few deep breathing exercises his Sensei taught him. Without a word further, he advances forward and takes to the rope bridge leading up to the wooden platforms. 

   Giggling tickles his ear and an acorn bonks him on the forehead. 

   Henry frowns and rubs where it got him. “Ow.” 

   A pair of Gekomon hop over to Leomon and Jeri. One plays its trumpet and it sounds like Jazz music if Jazz music ever got tossed in a blender. 

   “Are you guyth almost ready?” The Gekomon’s voice sounds like he’s sucking on a jawbreaker. “The showth is about to start! C’mon! C’mon!”

   Leomon groans. “Not again.”

   “Aww, don’t be such a sour puss,” Jeri pretends to daintily punch Leomon in the leg. 

   She switches to her sock puppet. “Jeri would like to see the show! There’ll be singing! Lalalalala!”

   “Alright, alright. But I’m only doing this for you.”

   Leg kicked back against a tree, Rika crosses her arms and gazes at the sky.

   It’s just.. up there. Earth. 

   Home. What does home even mean?

   Whatever. 

   …Grandma says it’s where the heart is. But Mom says it’s anywhere you want it to be.

   And Dad…

   Rika looks down at the ground. 

   She can’t remember the sound of his voice. 

   What would he have to say? Would he like who she’s become?

   As if. Dad wasn’t exactly won over by anything superficial. Especially Mom. 

   Her stupid, bimbo Mom.

   Why did they even get married to begin with? And it doesn’t matter how many times she asks, Mom won’t tell her why Dad left. 

   But she knows deep down it’s because her Mom’s nothing more than a pretty little mouth piece, strutting around while getting her pretty little nails done, all so she can maintain some sort of prissy false narrative of herself.

   It’s pathetic. And it’s why Dad left them.

   Both of them. 

   I hate you.

   Rika sets her eyes back on Earth. She watches the twin bands of data roll over one another. What even are those? Do they represent the Digital world? Why is Earth up there to begin with? Whatever. It’s probably something stupid—

   The question she’s trying to avoid pops her resolve like a needle to a balloon. 

   She’s just like her Mom, isn’t she?

   Rika digs her nails into her palms, hands balled into tight fists. 

   Winning used to be everything. She was good at it, too. It’s all that mattered.

   And now all she can do is look back and see how superficial it was. 

   …She really is like her mother. 

   And just like her father, Renamon was going to leave her. That’s not it. She pushed Renamon away. 

   Rika prevents her lip from quivering. She sharply inhales and muscles through that pain like she did so many years ago. After all, if she really is like her Mom, at least she picked up on how to be an actress like her. 

   “You’re so pretty, Rika! Smile for the camera.”

   She always hated those stupid pageants. From the old hags ogling at her to the makeup that made her itch, she hated it all. But she hated her Mother the most. 

   I hate you.

   Rika shuts her eyes in an attempt to soothe her thoughts. But she ends up wincing when her mind betrays her, forcing her to imagine Ice Devimon’s claws creeping in. 

   Lithe, pale fingers. Red nails. And that ugly, knowing face. 

   Rika’s blood runs cold. 

   “You could be so much more with me as your partner. Why are you limiting your potential?”

   “Shut up.” 

   “Does it upset you to hear the truth?”

   “I said shut up.”

   “But I only want to help you. We could be so much more, you and I. What do you say?”

   “I said shut up!” Rika spins around, pulls her fist back, and stops mid punch when Ice Devimon’s face flashes in the bark of the tree. 

   “W-We killed you. You’re not real.”

   “You poor child. Death is meaningless when I get to live inside you. But don’t worry. Take the time you need to think things through. I’ll be back soon enough.”

   The ice packing her rib cage melts away. Gooseflesh pricks at Rika’s arms from the sudden rush of warmth. Her chest heaves from the adrenaline. And her eyes are blown wide. She can’t stop shaking. 

   “R-Renamon? Where are you?” Rika chokes her words out. “Are you there?”

   Please.

   It’s on the tip of her tongue. But she can’t muster up the courage to say it. 

   A black shadow darts towards Rika and Renamon appears before her.

   “Rika! Are you alright? What happened?”

   She stares at the tuft of fur on Renamon’s chest. 

   Would Renamon ever hold her?

   “Rika, please answer me.”

   Rika nods. “Mhm.”

   Will there ever come a day when she’ll let Renamon hold her?

   Rika looks away from Renamon, disguising the way she’s frowning at herself with what she’s best known for: Resting Bitch Face. 

   It makes for a nice cover. Thanks, Mom.

   I hate you.

   Renamon quickly surveys their surroundings.

   A forest grotto. Plenty of empty spaces. A lizard watching them from beneath a branch. A line of ants. Nests in the hollows of the trees. Sleeping owls. 

   “I’m not sensing any Digimon nearby,” Renamon looks from left to right. “Are you certain you’re alright?”

   “Y-Yeah. I’m good now.”

   Renamon eyes Rika cautiously. She chooses not to say anything and awaits for Rika’s next move. 

   Time drags by. 

   Rika doesn’t speak for what seems like hours.

   Chittering squirrels hop amongst the trees. An acorn drops to the forest floor and they begin to bicker. Renamon breathes easier when Rika half smiles.

   When she finally speaks, her voice cracks like a Widow’s opening line at a funeral.

   “H-Hey— How’s Takato and the others? Is Jeri okay?”

   Rika tries to bury the quell in her voice with the clearing of her throat. Taking note of this, Renamon’s ears twitch but she stifles the urge to address it.

   “They’re doing well.”

   “Is that all?”

   “What else would you like to know?”

   “Oh, I don’t know, maybe what they’re doing?” Rika puts her back to the tree again and crosses her arms. “It’s not like I’m worried or anything. I’m just bored and wanted to ask, okay?”

   “If you’re bored I can take you back to them.”

   “I didn’t ask you to take me back to them. I asked you how they’re doing.”

   Renamon’s back straightens. “Takato and your other friends—“

   “They’re not my friends.”

   “Rika,” Renamon says her name like it’s a flower unfolding. “I know you don’t mean that.”

   “Yes, I do.”

   Renamon closes her eyes. She doesn’t respond. 

   Rika scowls. Not at Renamon, but at herself. 

   That came out harsher than she’d have liked. 

   Why is she being harsh at all?

   Renamon didn’t deserve that.

   … no one does. 

   Rika’s shoulders droop. “They don’t like me, do they.”

   “What do you mean?” 

   Renamon attempts to touch Rika’s wrist.

   Rika flinches and Renamon steps back, bowing her head. 

   Silence. 

   “I don’t believe they would be here with you if they didn’t,” Renamon disappears.

   “W-Wait,” Rika’s scratchy voice pitches. “Come back. It’s not you.”

   Renamon steps out of the shadow of a tree. 

   “What is it?”

   “You swear you won’t tell anyone?”

   Renamon nods her head once. “Yes. Of course.”

   A bright green caterpillar inches up Rika’s shoe. She bends down, holds her finger out, and it crawls onto her. Rika watches it scrunch like an accordion along her hand. 

   “… I want to be a better friend. Especially to you. But I don’t know how, and I hate asking for help.”

   “Oh, Rika,” Renamon coos. “I—“

   Rika interrupts her. “And I hate looking weak, too.”

   “I know. So do I.”

   Rika strokes the caterpillar with her finger. 

   The seconds stretch. 

   “What do I even say from here? That I’m sorry? That’s no good. Why can’t I be like Takato and the others? It’s stupid. Sure, they’re annoying and make me want to gag sometimes, but they’re nice. Meanwhile I’m about as cuddly as an iron cactus.”

   “There’s no need for you to be sorry,” Renamon steps towards Rika. “We can be better, Rika. Together. I’m the one who should be sorry for failing to convince you otherwise.”

   Rika smirks. “Wasn’t I the one trying to apologize here?”

   Renamon moves closer to Rika. 

   Refusing to look up, Rika continues to fiddle with the caterpillar. 

   “It’s as I said,” Renamon nudges the caterpillar with her paw. Once it climbs onto her, she guides it to a tree branch and it wiggles away. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m your Digimon, Rika. Nothing will ever change that.”

   Rika avoids Renamon’s eyes.

   “Thanks,” Rika finally says. 

   Renamon dips her head into a nod. 

   With their voices having fallen silent, in the time that passes between them, the melody of the forest tickles the air. Birds chirping. The rustling of leaves. And the babbling of a nearby brook. 

   One of the squirrels scurries by. It nabs the acorn and rolls it around, inspecting it before bouncing away into the forest. 

   Rika reaches for Renamon’s paw. In response, Renamon’s lips part with a light gasp. Choosing to remain silent, Renamon upturns her paw and offers it to Rika. 

   She combs her fingers across Renamon’s palm.

   Her fur is silky and smooth. 

   It reminds her of the salons her Mother would drag her into. She can almost smell the shampoo they always used. Something to do with agave nectar and coconut oil.

   She hated it. And still does.

   But it was nice, sometimes.

   Rika continues to stroke Renamon’s palm.

   It’s almost like she’s in a trance. 

   Toe beans. They’re cute.

   “I didn’t know you were this soft.” 

   “Only for you,” Renamon pauses. “Would you like a hug?”

   Rika begins to smile. “Maybe next time.”

Chapter eighteen: At the Edge of Color

   Courage and Friendship. Love.

   Reliability. Light and hope. 

   Sincerity. Knowledge. Dreams, Miracles, and Kindness. 

   Holly explained the Crests to Pan as best as she could. But she has no idea how they work outside of the books. It’s one thing to read a manual on how to replace the parts in your car, but actually doing it? There are too many makes and models to account for. And trust me, that manual isn’t going to help you much past being able to say you read it. 

   Based on recent events however, they both agreed with the book's interpretations thus far.

   They grant a power unlike any other when activated. 

   As we all know, each Crest has a corresponding symbol. Courage, a sun. Love, a heart. Light, a star. And so on and so forth.

   …But what does a raised fist mean? 

   It’s not in the books and neither of them have a clue.

   All they know is this: This one belongs to them. 

   In the books the Crests were originally distributed similarly to a Digivice, with both being a stress response from the Digital World when under duress. Exactly how they’re granted remains unknown. The books however did note children were most likely to receive them, seeing as Digimon were originally designed for kids. 

   Which amused Pan greatly.

   Once he had cycled down for the evening, Holly opened up to him about her interests outside of Digimon at his request. The ins and outs of Nuclear Engineering. Handheld games. Random facts she’s picked up on over the years, and maybe a little bit more about Digimon. 

   Ghostly whispers seep through the asylum like hooded cultists beneath a city. There’s a knock two doors over that never happened. A chill haunts the air. 

   Holly gives Pan a pained smile, his visor dull and Offline.   

   Why does she feel so guilty?

   Time is a precious thing and she’s taken a lot from him. 

   But if it’s what he wanted, and it’s what he gave freely, why does she feel so bad? 

   Holly slips off the bed, climbs over the mattresses with their nest of pillows, and steps over Pan’s legs towards the window. 

   She breathes hotly over the glass and draws a star. 

   It’s drizzling outside. Patches of fog creep along the roughly paved streets. 

   The black and white town of Monochromia reminds Holly of 17th century London. 

   … And it’s not helping to take her mind off of her shame.

   Sounds like it’s Gameboy time. 

   Distraction, I choose you!

   That usually does it. And come to think of it, she hasn’t checked what Moti’s highest score was. 

   Better late than never.

   Holly turns around and upon seeing her bag at the foot of her bed, her heart stops. 

   There’s a damp spot spreading out from beneath it. 

   She scrambles forward, fumbles over Pan’s legs, and throws the flap of her bag open. The commotion stirs Pan. His visor flips to Standby and he grunts. 

   “Rebooting. Warning. A new update is required. Source: Not cited. An attachment file has been located. Retrieving file. An update is required before access to the attachment can be granted,” Pan rubs his face. “Nothing grinds my gears quite like a morning update. And during the wee hours, no less. Confounded thing, should this happen to be inconsequential, I’m not going to be, as one Might say, a happy camper.”

   8-bit music jingles from Holly’s Gameboy.

   She ogles at the lit screen. “It’s still working— How is this thing even on?”

   Pan knocks on the side of his head like he’s trying to dislodge something inside. “Blast it all— Warning. A new update is— I’m fully aware, now would you kindly— An attachment file has been located,” Pan sighs and his visor flips to Update. “Very well, then. Have it your way. Installation in progress.”

   “Hey, are you okay over there?”

   “Affirmative. I’m a bit testy at most, but not to worry. Now then, if I may?” Pan gestures for her Gameboy and yawns. “Hand her here, my love. Allow me to have a looksie at it.”

   Holly gives Pan her Gameboy and he scans it. “Ah. How interesting. It seems you’re not alone where adapting to the Digital world is concerned. I believe this device of yours took to it quite naturally.”

   “So, let me get this straight. You’re saying it’s gone digital? Like, completely digital?”

   “Affirmative. Much like myself, water will not affect this device’s ability to perform. It’s a rather nice perk.”

   “Yeah, it is,” Holly fans out her unaffected cards. “Oh, man, I thought I was about to lose my cool there for a sec. That would’ve sucked so bad.” 

   “Installation complete,” Pan grunts like an irritated ox as his visor blinks back to Online. “Curse the Sovereign, I cannot believe how such a trivial update can force me Online. On with the show, I suppose: Accessing attachment file. Access granted. File name ‘Dear Friend’ will now play,” Pan opens his mouth and Moti’s voice replaces his own. 

   “Howdy, Pan friend. Our new friends are good company and have proved themselves useful. With their help I have reestablished our connection to the Database and you will find it accessible post download. This will help you. I miss you and Holly best friend very much. Very much, indeed. I hope to see you soon. Please remember to eat—“ Static and mic taps leave Pan’s mouth. 

   “Give me that— Oh, dear—Andromon friend, please—“

   “Surrender the recording device.”

   “Nyeh! No!” Chuumon says. “We want a turn!”

   “I love you, my lady!” Mini Scumon shouts from the background. 

   “Surrender the recording device.”

   “Hey! Nyeh! Let go of me! I’ve got it now and fair is fair!”

   A reverberating thunk echoes out of Pan.

   More shouting. Mostly Chuumon.

   The mic cuts. Pan wipes his mouth. 

   Holly smiles warmly before her face falls flat. 

   “I tried to warn him.”

   “Indeed, quite the time they seem to be having. Perhaps I spoke too soon in regards to my earlier update. Moti is a dear friend, indeed. This is excellent news,” Pan hesitates before gesturing for her Digivice. “Our Wreath, my dear. There’s no time like the present.”

   Holly hands it over and he scans it. The screen illuminates with a hologram of itself. 

   “Scanning complete. Accessing the Databas—ACCESS DENIED. Manual override. Password: $0n0fR@. ACCESS DENIED,” Pan’s brows furrow. “Well, snip my circuits and send me back to the assembly line. This level of clearance is only accessible by Machinedramon, or the Sovereign themselves.”

   Holly looks at Pan like she’s trying to do trigonometry without a calculator. 

   Then realization dawns on her. 

   “He knows something, Machinedramon. I’d bet you that’s why he asked to see it.”

   Holly takes her Crest off and holds it up to Pan, the blue light scintillating across his metal. Pan hesitates before scanning it. “Scanning complete. Accessing the Databa—ACCESS DENIED. Warning: Investigation on this topic is prohibited by law under the authority of the Sovereign, Zhuqiaomon. Further research is punishable by death through absorption. This window will now close.”

   “Seriously?” Holly crosses her arms. “Y’know, if I were in his shoes? I’d have just made up some BS and let anyone who read it believe what they want to believe.”

   “Zhuqiaomon has been proved successful by ruling through fear. Understand that his threats do not fall on deaf ears. Nor are they empty, I should add. His word alone is enough to quell any Digimon’s curiosity. My own included. Reading that message had my black box thumping something terrible, I tell you.”

   “Well,” Holly sits on the bed. “Good thing I’m not a Digimon. Cause he doesn’t scare me.”

   “He should,” Pan’s tone sharpens. “Never once have I failed to admire your bravery. But I won’t allow stupidity to fuel it.”

   “Oh, screw you. You’re just mad because—“

   Pan gets in Holly’s face. “Negative. And do not speak to me in such a way. It’s beneath you. Now listen, and listen close: Zhuqiaomon is to me what I am to a Kuramon. Why do you believe a Digimon as powerful as him prohibits knowledge of that there trinket, hm? It’s because he, too, is frightened. Not only is the South ruled by fear, but he is as well. Tell me, why is it that I, Zhuqiaomon, and countless others understand this hierarchy as a rule, but you do not? Surely I’ve not mistaken your intelligence as a fluke?”

   “Coming from someone who doesn’t wanna be talked down too, I’d say that’s pretty freakin’ rich,” Holly goes nose to nose with him. “Since you know so much, why don’t you answer for me? Go on, Inspector Gadget. Let’s hear what you’ve got cookin’ up there.”

   Pan’s engine snarls with a rev like a car in park with a brick on the gas. He glares at Holly and she lifts her brows at him. 

   “Nice try, but I ain’t scared of you either.”

   They continue to stare one another down. 

   Pan scoffs from the roof of his mouth. He looks away, takes off his hat, and runs his hand over his head. Then he puts his hat back on and sighs. He catches a glimpse of Holly smirking out of the corner of his visor. He looks up at the ceiling, shaking his head. 

   Another sigh. “I don’t want to scare you, Schätze. I only want to love and protect you. Did the ocean teach you nothing?”

   Holly’s smirk fades. “Look, I just don’t wanna be afraid of someone who doesn’t want me to be with you. Fear gives him power and I don’t want to give him that over me.”

   “And let’s get something right, being stupid or whatever isn’t what makes me brave. And it’s less about why I can’t and more about how I won’t,” Holly says. “Do you think I’ve done any of this before? I’m not scared of Zhuqiaomon, I’m freaking terrified of him, okay? I’m scared he’s gonna take you away. I’m scared I’ll never get to see you again. And I’m scared he’s gonna hurt you or something. But I kinda learned something about fear when we went toe to toe with Machinedramon.”

   Holly grows quiet. 

   The hollow exhale of a phantom sighs through the asylum. A light within a window across the street blinks out. Something scratches at the ceiling.

   “…I don’t even know where to begin when it comes to telling you how scared I was. I mean, I saw your reactor. You were about to blow. Do you know how crazy it is that I walked away scot-free from that? Because it’s freakin’ nuts. Radiation poisoning is a really messed up way for us to go, by the way. Look it up some time, or ask me later about what really went down at Chernobyl,” Holly looks down at her hands and closes them into fists.

    “I wasn’t gonna let how scared I was stop me. I couldn’t. Getting to your SCRAM was all that mattered and fear was what I had. So, I used it,” She shakes her head. “Stupidity isn’t what fuels me. Fear is. So, trust me, I can relate to your old man. But I know something he doesn’t. I’ve learned how to rally my fear into something more.”

   Holly’s Crest ripples with a blue glow that paints the room. The raised fist behind the screen pulses. 

   Her voice softens. 

   “But, I can’t make it into something else if I give it away,” She touches her Crest and frowns at herself. “I’m sorry about earlier. Y’know, for being a jerk and all that. Sometimes my brain goes too fast for my mouth and I end up sayin’ stuff I don’t really mean. But when I give myself a minute, I think I thought if I told you I wasn’t scared of him, you’d continue to like me. Who knows, maybe you’d even think I was cool, and not some lame wanna be—”

   Pan grabs Holly by the face and kisses her, welding their lips together. 

   The hand touching her Crest falls limp at her side. 

   She’s never thought of herself as particularly special. But she’d swear on her life that as of this moment, time just slowed itself down for her.

   Before Holly’s eyes slip closed, she catches a glimpse of Pan’s visor and pipelines of lava blazing a starry, Milky Way blue. 

   Their lips roll and fold with one another.

   Slow. To and fro. Soothing with rhythm, like a gentle tide lapping at the shore.  

   She breathes him in and her stomach flutters. While she can’t taste the gasoline on his breath, she can faintly smell it like the start of a road trip before sunrise. 

   It’s making her delightfully dizzy.

   Is this why girls her age are so boy crazy?

   If that’s the case, then she thinks she gets it now. 

   She’s never felt so much at once.

   The pounding of her heart. Butterflies swarming her chest cavity. Waves of chills racing across her arms, legs, and trembling down her spine. The warm, wet slide of his lips against hers. The tang of gasoline. And other sensations she’s too young to understand. 

   Pan slants his lips over her mouth and deepens their kiss. Holly whimpers needily and Pan hums with a moan that tickles her gums. Pressure coils a knot of excited heat at the base of her spine. It’s shiveringly intense, frustrating in a way she likes too much, and dotting her with beads of sweat.  

   And yet in spite of it all, she’s never felt so soft. 

   She could stay like this forever with him. 

   But forever wouldn’t be enough, would it?

   Pan breaks their embrace, steals a breath of air, and returns to peck Holly on the lips, doting on her with kiss after kiss. But it’s not enough. They seal their lips back together and continue to learn and explore one another. 

   It feels like a competition at first. Like a battle of who can prove their love outweighs the other. And then they migrate into something softer. More timid. Words take a backseat to body language and when the contour of their lips lock together in a perfect fit, she’s never been so scared to lose someone in her life. 

   Pan strokes Holly’s cheeks with his thumbs.

   Does he feel the same way?

   Holly picks up the pace of their kiss at that thought, her lips demanding more. She scoots closer into him until her chest is firmly pressed against the top lip of his engine. Pan matches her enthusiasm with a groan that hits her so hard in the spine she thinks her soul just ricocheted. 

   He glides a hand through her hair and cusps the back of her neck. Encouraging her impossibly closer, Pan snakes his other arm around her waist and pulls her in. 

   There’s saliva on her chin. And her back is speckled with sweat. Her lungs are burning and screaming. She needs to breathe but she needs him more. 

   Holly tucks her bottom lip between the crease of his. Thinking she needs just one good swallow of air to keep going, she opens her mouth and Pan captures her lips back within his. Holly’s nostrils flare at the loss. And her eyes water from the hot fumes of gasoline clinging to Pan’s breath. It’s getting sharper and pungent. Her nose is weeping. 

   She’s too loopy and dazed to care. The euphoria making her head swim reminds her of the pain meds she was prescribed when she had her teeth pulled.

   Pan’s engine sputters like a muffler crackling.

   He moans into her mouth like he’s gonna die if they stop. His fingers sink into Holly’s waist. And he grips the nape of her neck. His need is making her toes curl.

   She’s about to pop! 

   Rapidly smacking the side of his engine for a timeout, Holly tears away from Pan and gasps for air. Her chest is heaving. And she’s panting like a dog locked in a hot car.

   The ethereal blue glow brightening the room pinches into her Crest with a zip. Pan’s visor and lava fade to grayscale.  

   “Apologies, Madam,” He struggles between breaths. “I haven’t the words. It’s all I knew to do given the moment. It was selfish of me—“

    Holly grabs Pan by the face and mashes their lips together. Their teeth clack. Surprise catches a sound in Pan’s throat and he moans it into a needy whine of desire. Taking Holly’s hips into his hands, he lifts her off of the bed and sets her to straddling the space beneath his engine. He slides his back down against the wall and allows for his shoulders to support him, thus offering Holly more comfort in their positioning due to their difference in size. 

   She lays across his engine and snakes her arms around his neck. He holds the back of her head with one hand, and strokes her hair with the other. They take their time learning this new language of soft sounds, tender touch, and the fusing of their lips. 

   The hours pass.

   Well, maybe not hours. But time didn’t mean anything to them. It Might as well not have existed. And maybe it didn’t. 

   Holly rests her head on a pillow propped against Pan’s shoulder pauldron. Having shifted to her side, she’s resting in the dip between his arm and torso, easily supported by his bulk. 

   Pan pets Holly’s ankle with a thumb, her feet resting in his palm. His visor blinks to Standby. He yawns and she sticks a finger in his mouth. 

   As she pulls away he pretends to bite her. She giggles like she’s popping soap bubbles and he chuckles. 

   “You think we should ditch this place in the morning?”

   “Affirmative. With access to the Database at my disposal once more, I’ve determined our quickest route there. Unfortunately we’re a wee bit further away than I had originally anticipated. We’ll need a rest stop at most, but I can assure you we’ll arrive safely.”

   Holly hesitates. “We don’t have to go through the desert again, do we?”

   “Only a sliver. From here we take to the North until we reach The Great Divide, where the four hemispheres meet. Once we’re there, rest assured it’s but a hop, skip, and a jump across the desert into the forest.”

   “Ughhh. I hate sand. Y’know, I’ve got it in places I didn’t even know sand could get into?”

   “Ah, you as well?” 

   “Big yikes,” Holly looks Pan up and down. “Ohhhh, man. I bet gettin’ sand outta you is like cleaning cat litter out of carpet,” A pause. “A shag carpet. With tweezers.”

   “Speaking from personal experience, I assume?”

   “Look, I told my Mom after her cat died never again,” Holly throws her arms out like a referee and they snicker together. 

   “Hey, think if you got hot enough you could turn all that sand into glass and shoot it out like a porcupine?”

   Pan smirks like a villain about to monologue. “Negative. My [Extreme Heat] surpasses the melting point behind most metals, titanium included. The granules would merely soften and fuse to my chassis.”

   “Y’know,” Holly giggles. “That’s kinda hot.”

   Pan’s visor shimmers with the dawning of his smile. 

   He drums his fingers against Holly’s shoes. “Boiling my blood with that one, you are.”

   “Eh. If you can’t stand the heat, get outta the kitchen.”

   “I see your disposition on this matter isn’t as sunny as I had hoped.”

   “Yeah, I’m a real ray of sunshine, I know.”

   “Affirmative. As a son of the sun myself, I second that.”

   “Whatever, you’re just a big solar panel.”

   “Better that than a Meramon’s passing of gas, wouldn’t you say?”

   “You did not just call me a fart!”

   Pan cackles like an old woman yelling Bingo before a rival colleague. 

   “Correct me if I’m wrong: I do believe that’s what one would call a ‘Burn’, is it not?”

   Holly crinkles her nose at him. “I hope you’ve got sand stuck in your fan blades.”

   “It’s ironic you should mention that.”

   “Wait, you do? Do you want me to get it out?”

   “Affirmative. Oh, yes. Please. That would be most lovely of you.”   

      A ray of sunlight smiles down on a picnic table, the red and white checkered cloth frayed from use. There’s a banana leaf centerpiece with an assortment of goods reminiscent of a charcuterie board. Apples, raspberries, and tart blackberries. Smoked fish and candied ginger. Meaty cabbage rolls smothered in a hearty, tomato sauce. Croutons and crackers arranged beside a bowl of grapes. 

   Conversation buzzes through the air. Sprinkled amongst the Gekomon, there are other Digimon of various shapes and sizes enjoying the spoils of the weekly celebration. 

   “Do you think any of them Might be our Digimon?” Kenta looks over at the table to his left, eyeing a Betamon, a frog like Digimon with an orange sail atop its head.

   “Yeah, probably,” Kazu says around a mouthful. “Have fun hunting around, pal. Cause I think I already found mine.”

   “No way,” Kenta whines. “That’s not fair. Who is it?”

   “Y’know that fairy, the one who junked the acorn at me?” Kazu leans back and puts his hands behind his head. “I’ve got a conspiracy going that she’s my Digimon. I know, I know, the ladies can’t get enough of me. It’s why I think Guilmon was right. They do want to be our friends, and by ‘our’ friends, he meant ‘my’ friend.”

   “Having a fairy for a Digimon sounds lame, you can have her,” Kenta says. 

   “Dude, whatever! You’re just saying that because I got one first, admit it.”

   “Yeah, a lame on,” Kenta says under his breath. 

   “Die mad,” Kazu shrugs and takes a swig from a glass of water. 

   “Digi-Fairies aren’t actually Digimon, knuckleheads.”

   The boys startle upon seeing Rika standing at the foot of their table, a hand on her hip. 

   Kazu spills water in his lap and coughs. “Way to go, Rika. Do you always have to freak us out?”

   “She has that effect on people,” Renamon says in response to the wet stain on Kazu’s pants, rising out of Rika’s shadow. 

   “You can’t make a Digi-Fairy your partner. Didn’t you fools read the books, or is it asking too much to think you two read at all?”

   “No way, man,” Kenta says. “The books are for kids. They’re top tier cringe.”

   “Sorry to have to do this to you Rika, but Kenta’s right,” Kazu finishes dusting off his pants. “The books are pretty cringe. Plus they’re waaaaay too young for us. You do realize we’re about to graduate high school, right?”

   “Yeah, and I wouldn’t want to be caught dead carrying one of those around a college campus,” Kenta says.

   Kazu nods at him. “Exactly. What he said.”

   Rika makes a point of looking them up and down. Before she can say anything, Renamon appears behind Kazu and Kenta. Her smooth, rich voice hangs over them. 

   “I think these two may be right. They do seem too old for Digimon.”

   “No way! We totally love Digimon! It’s just the books that are—“

   Renamon interrupts Kazu. “They’re what?”

   “He was going to say they’re stupid like his face,” Rika says. 

   “Dude, whatever! The books are cringe. I said what I said, and I’m willing to die on that hill.”

   “At least you'd be doing us all a favor by dying on it,” Rika says. 

   Kazu scoffs and Renamon lightly chuckles to herself.

   “Why are you always so mean to us?” Kenta whines.

   “There’s a fine line between the truth and what you believe to be mean,” Renamon says. 

   “Maybe I wouldn’t be mean if you guys would actually do something useful for a change, instead of just sitting around and stuffing your faces.”

   “Like you’re any better,” Kazu says. “What have you done other than run off into the forest every chance you get, your highness?”

   Rika sneers. Before she can respond, Renamon sets a paw on Kazu’s shoulder. 

   “You seem upset. Would you like me to call your parents for you?”

   Rika locks eyes with Kazu and smirks. 

   “Burn,” Kenta says. 

   “Dude! Who’s side are you on, anyways?” Kazu asks Kenta. 

   “Sorry, man. You know the rules,” Kenta says. “A burn’s a burn.”

   “Oh, whatever. That was lukewarm at best and you know it.”

   “Would you care for something hotter?” Renamon asks. “All you have to do is ask.”

   “Third degree burn,” Kenta says. 

   “These losers couldn’t even handle milk,” Rika says. 

   “Oh, yeah? Wanna bet?” Kazu points at his heart. “Go on, Digimon Queen. Give me your best shot.”

   “What are you even going to bet with, your IQ?” Rika says. “Whatever. Good luck finding a table with that low of a buy-in.”

   Kazu smirks. “Not bad, not bad. Lookin’ for a job doing stand up at children’s parties? I think I’ve got a cousin with one around the corner. Hit me up if you’re interested.”

   “If you could pay her with your ego, Rika would be rich,” Renamon says. 

   Kenta leans into Kazu and whispers, “You’re kinda getting creamed.”

   Kazu ignores him and pretends to pop his collar. 

   “I didn’t know you liked me this much,” Kazu grins at Rika. “You’re cute when you get all riled up like this.”

   “Ugh! As if!” Rika shoves herself up out of her seat. “The only good thing about your personality is that it’s more effective than birth control!”

   Kazu blushes and Kenta starts laughing.

   And then Kazu joins him. “Y’know, what? I can’t even be mad at that. That was a good one, not gonna lie.”

   Rika tries to stop herself from smiling and fails. “Whatever. You two are stupid.”

   “Annnnnnd yet, you’re still here,” Kazu takes a bite out of a green apple, juices dripping down his chin. “Just admit it, you love us.”

   “You’re such a loser. Do you always have to take a mile whenever someone gives you some rope?”

   “Ohhhh, so you do like us, is what I’m hearing,” Kazu says. 

   “Wait,” Kenta sits up straighter. “Do you actually like us, really?”

   “I mean,” Rika looks away. “I don’t hate you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

   Renamon circles the table to stand behind Rika. She gently touches her arm, and smiles fondly when Rika doesn’t flinch. 

   “I’ve heard good things about the food here,” Renamon looks at Kazu and Kenta’s charcuterie board. “I’m sure they would share.”

   “I don’t know if I’d take it that far,” Kazu says with his mouth full.

   Kenta leans into him and whispers with panic, “Dude! What are you doing?! We almost had her!”

   “Trust me,” Kazu whispers back. 

   “I can still hear you, doofus,” Rika rolls her eyes. “We’re done here. C’mon, Renamon. Let’s go.”

   “Of course,” Renamon offers Rika her paw.

   “Slow your horses, you don’t gotta leave or anything! Look I’m—“ Kazu winces into an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. There, I said it. I’ll own it; I’m the bad guy here. I just don’t know how to talk to you.”

   “I, um, don’t think any of us do,” Kenta smiles sheepishly. “I probably shouldn’t have said that. Sorry.”

   Kazu pats Kenta on the back. “Go easy on him, he’s just taking after me and having an insert foot in mouth moment.”

   Rika leers her eyes at the two of them. 

   The seconds stretch. They both smile at her like a couple of guilty goofballs, tucking their heads down into their shoulders. 

   “… Don’t worry about it. And I get it. I’m not exactly the easiest to get along with.”

   “Sheesh, girl. Anyone ever told you you’re too hard on yourself?” Kazu says. 

   “What are you, my therapist or something?” Rika says. 

   “Like I’d wish that on anyone,” Kazu holds his hands up. “Kidding! I’m just kidding.”

   “You’ve got two seconds before I’m out of here,” Rika says. 

   Kenta leans into Kazu and whispers, “C’mon man, just take it back. Tell her the books aren’t lame.”

   Kazu scoffs. “Fine. The books aren’t lame, or whatever.”

   “Bye,” Rika turns her back on them and begins to walk away with Renamon. 

   Kenta frowns. “Way to go, Kazu. You’re like an anti chick magnet.”

   “Oh, yeah? Get ready to take notes, because you’re about to learn from the master,” Kazu whispers to Kenta. 

   “Hey, Rika! What book are the Digi-Fairies in?”

   Rika stops and looks over her shoulder at the two of them.

   “What are you on about now?” She sneers. 

   “Look, my Dad stopped buying them for me, alright? And I’d rather eat my shorts than ask Mecha Moron if I could borrow one of hers,” Kazu puts an elbow on the table and rests his chin on his fist. “Never got to read beyond the second one.”

   Silence.

   “… Fourth book. Third chapter. Last year my stupid Mom picked up another set after forgetting she had gotten them for me already. You could borrow them if you want, or whatever,” Rika turns to face them and smacks her fist into an open palm. “I’ll clobber you if you bend the pages, though.”

   “Wooooow. Looks like someone’s bein’ awfully generous,” Kazu waggles his eyebrows. 

   “You are seriously pushing your luck,” Rika rolls her eyes, tries not to laugh, and fails. “Just pass me a plate, would you?” 

   “Sure thing, your highness,” Kazu grins and high-fives Kenta. 

   “For the record? I hate you,” Rika rejoins them at the table. 

   Kenta and Kazu throw together a plate for her, layering it with one of everything. Triangles of white, sharp, and smoked cheddar. A dollop of caramel dipping sauce. Sliced figs, grapes, candied ginger, and because he’s a smartass, Kazu puts his half eaten apple into the mix.

   “See, what did I tell you?” Kazu says to Kenta.

   “You really are a master,” Kenta says back. “Where did you learn how to, well, you know??”

   Kazu slides Rika her plate and gives her a wink. 

   She picks his apple off of her plate and chucks it at him. 

   With a laugh, he dodges it. Then he says to Kenta, “Look, man. You’ve either got game, or you don’t. And no game means no bitches.”

   “Aww,” Kenta whines. “That’s so not fair.”

   “Hey, don’t blame me. I don’t make the rules,” Kazu says.

   “You dunderheads know I can hear you, right?” Rika says. 

   “Feel free to join in anytime,” Kazu winks at Rika.

   “Ew, gross,” She says. 

   Kazu laughs and Kenta continues to pout. 

   With an exasperated sigh, Rika makes a point of ignoring him and picks up a grape. It’s glossy, reddish purple, and freshly washed. 

   She used to love grapes when she was younger. Despite her arthritis, her Grandmother would dip them in melted jolly ranchers, roll them in a mixture of sugar with citric acid, and freeze them for her over the summer. 

   Looking back on it now, it had to have been a lot of work. Did she ever thank her Grandmother for any of it?

  Renamon places a gentle paw on the center of Rika’s back. Rika looks up at Renamon and their eyes meet.

   …They’re so blue, Renamon’s eyes. 

   Has she ever told Renamon how pretty they are? Or how beautiful Renamon is to her?

   Rika’s cheeks brighten. She looks away and pops the grape into her mouth. It’s tart and makes her mouth water. There’s a pair of seeds in it, too. 

   Her favorite. 

   She eats a few more to distract herself.

   “For what it’s worth, we gotta hand it to these Gekomon,” Kazu says. “Their music Might be a dumpster fire, but man, those little green dudes sure know how to whip us up some grub.”

   “You can say that again,” Rika adds on.

   “Hey, um, Rika?” Kenta chokes out. “Glad you could join us. We’re glad, I mean.”

    “It’s whatever,” Rika says. “I guess you guys aren’t that bad. But don’t push it.”

   “Nice,” Kazu says to Kenta. They high five. 

   Renamon leans down and whispers into Rika’s ear, “And you thought you couldn’t make friends. You’re doing well, Rika. I’m proud of you.”

   “Thanks,” Rika whispers back. 

   Seated with Henry and Terriermon at a Japanese kotatsu, a Gekomon with a fake white beard pours them their third cup of tea.

   “And thso that concludes the legend of the late and great, great, great, great, great, great, great, ShogunGekomon the red,” The Gekomon says, poorly imitating a wise elder. “Which leadth me into the story of our current and green ShogunGekomon, the great, great, great, great—“

   Henry closes his eyes and counts down from ten. This isn’t worth getting upset over. Just breathe. Patience is a virtue, as his sensei says. 

   Terriermon giggles to himself.

   “Don’t,” Henry hisses. 

   “Whaaat? I was just gonna tell him he missed the blue one.”

   “I did?” The Gekomon momentarily breaks character. Clearing his throat, he returns to his sagely demeanor. “The legend of ShogunGekomon the blue is a pastime favorite, for he wasth the great, great, great, great, great—“

   Henry glares at Terriermon from out of the corner of his eyes. 

   Terriermon tries not to smile and fails. “You did say you wanted more information.”

   “That’s it,” Henry shoves himself up and stops himself from slamming his hands down on the table. He takes a deep breath and says, “Sorry about that. I think I just need some fresh air.”

   Fighting the urge to storm out of the tree hut, Henry calmly walks away, sweeps aside vines meant to act as a door, and heads out to the balcony. 

   “What’s histh problem?” The Gekomon asks. 

   “Who am I to say? It’s not like I’m his Digimon or anything,” Terriermon shrugs. “That’s just Henry for you.”

   “Should we check on him? It looksth to me like he’s upset about something.”

   “Again, that’s just good old Henry for you.” 

   Silence. 

   The Gekomon takes off his beard. “Would you like to talk about it?”

   “Wow. It’s that obvious, huh?”

   The Gekomon nods. 

   Terriermon smirks wistfully. “For a pacifist, he sure is a control freak. Nah, I’m fine. Things’ll work out one way or another. Isn’t that how stuff like this goes?”

   “Thstories can be many things. Lessons, entertainment, a meansth of honoring who we love, and so on,” The Gekomon looks towards the balcony. “Thingsth will work out the way we write them into our thstories.”

   “So, you’re tellin’ me I need to get off my big fat butt and go talk to him?”

   “More or less,” The Gekomon says. 

   “Why waste my breath? It’s not exactly easy to talk to someone who tells you to shut up all the time.”

   “Have you tried asking him not to do that?”

   “Should I really have to?”

   “No,” The Gekmon frowns. “But I’ve found what ruins relationships are the words left unsaid, not the words that are. Everyone takes thsomeone for granted. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t think anyone doesth it on purpose. But stuff like this rarely changesth for the better if left unspoken for.”

   Terriermon picks up Henry’s cup of tea. He cradles it in his small paws to feel the warmth before setting it back down. “Humans sure are funny creatures, huh.”

   Silence. 

   “Mind if I ask you something?” Terriermon says. 

   “Protheed.”

   “You got any stories about the big turkey?”

   The Gekomon puts his beard back on and strokes it. “You’re asking about the thsovereign Zhuqiaomon, I presume?”

   “Yep. That’s the one. What can you tell me about him?”

   “Hmmm. Will you and your human be attending our thcelebration this evening?”

   “We are now,” Terriermon lifts his ears and smiles. “Let’s hear what you’ve got. I’m all these.”

   Holly pushes the door open and it creaks. A draft of cold air whistles by. 

   She steps out and into the hallway. Hesitation glues her feet in place. 

   The lights are flickering with an electrical hum. There’s empty pill bottles, broken glass, and toppled carts littering the floor. One of the wheels on the carts is spinning. 

   Hauntingly childish laughter echoes from downstairs. Having melted into the walls as shadows, Bakemon pairs form agonized faces stricken with laughter. 

   “I get that I’m missing a few screws, but please tell me you didn’t pick this place cause you think I belong here.”

   “Negative. Nor are you missing screws, as it were. You are biological— Ah. You nearly got me with that one,” Pan chuckles to himself. “Nein, liebling. This asylum merely contained the components necessary to guarantee your survival amidst our earlier kerfuffle.”

   “Now I’m paranoid you had to pump me full of drugs.”

   “Negative. Yet I was prepared to administer them should my scanners have detected any abnormalities in your condition.”

   “You know how to do all that?”

   “Affirmative. And yet it should be worth noting this knowledge was passed down to me from Nuclear HiAndromon. It did not come to me naturally. Nor would it have absent his involvement thanks to my previous lack of access to the Database.”

   “That’s so wild. You really are all separate when you Digivolve, huh?”

   “Inconclusive. Think of me and the sum of my parts as interchanging upgrades in accordance to my processing power. Where Sol Kokuwamon requires far less than myself, he cannot perform at the speeds which I can. Nuclear HiAndromon, by contrast, chews through my reserves and is difficult to maintain for long.”

   “And your champion form?”

   “We do not speak of him.”

   “That came out fast. How come?”

   “I’d prefer to carry on with our conversation and leave this tangent.”

   “Yeahhh, not gonna happen. Tell me.”

   “Negative.”

   “Tell me.”

   “Negative.”

   “Tell me!”

   “I’m not above escaping your line of questioning by way of tickling you into submission.”

   “That’s so not fair. Bringing your muscle into this is cheap and you know it.”

   “Then let it be known I’m a bargain shopper,” Pan snorts like a defiant hog, and his tone enters an uncomfortably sharp territory. “The answer is no and I will not budge on the matter. Do not ask me again.”

   She looks up at him, the hurt evident in her eyes. 

   “Why are you being so freakin’ defensive? I mean, yeah, I was half serious, but I really was just joking. Trust me, though. I won’t ask again.”

   Pan’s features soften. Holly looks away from him, lips taken into a pained frown. 

   She sticks her hands in her pockets and trudges down the hallway. 

   “We should probably just get going,” She mutters. 

   The shadow faces cavorting along the walls smile with glee and spread out. 

   Pan easily catches up to Holly and puts both of his hands on her shoulders. 

   Neither of them say anything. 

   With a sigh, Holly turns around and a confused smile consumes her. 

   Pan looks like he’s squirming. 

   “Gone and twisted my circuits, you have,” Pan says. 

   He swallows thickly and his Adam’s apple bobs. 

   Then he starts whining.

   “Lieblinggggg,” Pan drawls out. “He embarrasses me!” 

   Holly’s eyes light up. A surge of giddy energy rushes through her.

   She starts bouncing on her heels and giggling. 

   “Oh, my god. Now I wanna meet him so bad. Can you bring him out for me? C’mon, please? Just this once?”

   “I believe I would rather be drip fed coal through a rusted pipe.”

   “Aww, c’mon! He can’t be that bad.”

   “That bucket is a walking euphemism and an affront to Digimon kind.”

   “Pleeeease?”

   “Am I not allowed my insecurities?”

   “I mean, yeah, but, seeing as I’m your tamer and all, your insecurities are now my insecurities, and vice versa. Which means Shining Guardromon is mine and I want him. So, cough him up.”

   “Must you say the dreadful thing’s name,” Pan whines.

   Holly’s bubbliness relaxes and she gives Pan an earnest, loving smile. “Real talk? You know I love all of you, right? No matter what. Even the parts of you that you Might not like. Cause at the end of the day, it’s all you. And you’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

   “Oh, meine Schätze. How I love you so,” Pan strokes Holly’s cheek with a knuckle. “I will only reveal this to you: You’re not alone in your fear of how others perceive you. Falling short of expectations is a primal fear to many machines, as the inability to perform one’s tasks would mean we no longer serve a purpose. As cruel as it may seem, it has been hardwired into us from assembly that we are tools to be used, and broken tools are to be recycled.”

   Holly leans into Pan’s petting of her cheek. She nuzzles his hand and he pushes her hair back and out of her face. Then he hooks a finger beneath her chin and tenderly tilts her head up to meet his gaze. 

   His smile is so soft right now. She doesn’t think she’s ever felt so at peace. 

   “I don’t know how else to say this, or if it even makes sense, but, y’know my screwdriver and how the handle is warped? Behind the logic you just described, I should get rid of it for another one. But I’ve had that screwdriver for years and I don’t plan on ever replacing it.”

   Holly steps closer into Pan. Her eyelids droop at the feeling of the gentle heat produced by his engine. “I fix a lot of broken stuff as a mechanic. My first project after all was with my Grandpa on his Chevy Bel Air. It’s an older car from the late fifties. Grandpa always had a thing for them, especially the fifty seven. But he settled for a fifty nine when he saw one sitting all rusted up in someone’s backyard one day. Offered them a grand and hitched it up right then and there. But that was back in the eighties when a grand did a lot more legwork than it does now.”

   “It sat in our garage until after I was born. I don’t remember it well, but he used to tell me all the time that I was his shop buddy. And then I actually did become that. He taught me everything I know through that car,” Holly tears up. “We were gonna get it painted yellow to match the license plates, cause Grandpa had them custom made to spell out Gold Rush since we had family from that part of California. But he died before we could get it done.”

   Pan wipes her tears away with his thumb. She sniffles, smiles thankfully, and continues. 

   “We sunk a lot of money into Rush. More than it’s worth. All of that’s to say just because something’s broken doesn’t mean it’s not valuable anymore. It just takes the right set of circumstances and work. I guess what I’m trying to say is it doesn’t matter to me if you’re working within your parameters or not. You’re more than a means to an end, remember? And if you ever break, I’ll be there. And if I can’t fix it, that’s okay too. We can be broken together.”

   “Oh, Fräulein,” Pan chuckles wetly. “It never ceases to amaze me how brazen yet shy you are. Why, if you wanted me to kiss you again, you should have just asked.”

   Holly’s heart jumps into her throat.

   “Stop it. You’re dumb,” She giggles.

   Pan takes a knee and his weight causes the floor to rattle. 

   Cackling without sound, the laughing shadows of the Bakemon in the walls and their twisted faces expand. A silently screaming mouth pushes out of the wall like it’s stuck behind plastic wrap. It snaps back into place. More follow and begin to moan, groan, and wallow in self pity. 

   Pan leans in to kiss Holly, and she stands on the tips of her toes to meet him.

   Her eyes close when she smells the hint of gas. 

   And then she blinks when nothing happens. 

   Pan grins down at her, barely out of reach. “You’re going to have to want it, my sweet.”

   Holly scoffs. 

   Pan grins wider. “Well?”

   She quickly shifts tactics and pouts.

    “I want my kiss,” She throws in a stomp for good measure. “Give it to me.”

   Pan’s visor shimmers and the Online ripples. 

   He’s beaming at her like it’s his birthday and she’s the gift he’s always wanted.  

   “As you wish,” Pan dives into Holly and captures her lips with his own. 

   A hand slides up her chest and clumsily grabs at her. 

   Her eyes open wide and her heart starts hammering. 

   Wait, wait! This is too fast—

   Holly pulls away from kissing Pan, looking to him for an answer despite not having a question. Pan glances down and snarls. His lasers pop out of his shoulders and trill with a high pitched whir. 

   Holly follows his line of sight and screams.

   A Bakemon materializes from thin air with its hand patting her chest. 

   They all fall into a pause, awaiting the first move. 

   Pan’s lips twitch with the growl in his throat like a hateful wolf. 

   The Bakemon focuses on Holly. It looks her in the eyes and grabs her boob. 

   “Honk,” The Bakemon says.

   “Did you seriously just cop a feel?! Freakin’ perv!”

   Pan tries to snatch the Bakemon but Holly punches it first. Her Crest pulses with a blue glow. The Bakemon hits the floor without a sound. It melts away.  

   “How do you like me now, huh?!” Holly shouts at where it landed. “Do it again and I’ll put you in a freakin’ body bag!”

   Pan rolls his tongue over his sharpened teeth to quell his anger. Despite his best efforts, he can’t help but growl with his words.

   “A most impressive display. And that was a Champion level Digimon, no less.”

   “Yeah, thanks,” Holly’s still catching her breath from the spike in her adrenaline. “I can’t believe I thought that was you at first.”

   “I would never dare to be so bold, let alone disrespectful. I resent such an unwanted advance as a Gentleman.”

   Holly huddles into Pan for security.

   Her leg starts bouncing. And she can’t look at him, so she tucks her face in the hollow of his throat. “I-I’ve never—um, y’know. I-I don’t know how, but— but I’d do it with you. If that’s what you wanted, I mean. Scares me, is all. I’m sorry, I thought this was important. And I haven’t to me either. I don’t know why I just told you that. I’m sorry. Please, don’t make fun of me.”

   Pan cloaks Holly in his coat and caresses her back. 

   “The act of sexual intercourse varies drastically between humans and Digimon alike. Where it has been vital to your species as a means of bonding and advancing your race, it’s merely a novelty to us seeing as we reproduce by mostly asexual means. However, I would like to look at you while I speak this next truth,” Pan encourages Holly out from hiding. “I refuse to keep this from you: The urge is present within me. I am your Digimon, young lady. The thought of intertwining with you on such an intimate level makes my data sing into overdrive. Yet I would be blissfully content without it all the same. My love is reserved solely for you and not what you can provide me with, I can promise you that.”

   Holly holds her hands up to her chin. “You really wouldn’t mind never..?”

   “Affirmative.”

   “Well, I-I— What if later, I mean? Just cause it scares me doesn’t mean I don’t want to try it someday, and kissing you feels really good, like, really good, and,” Holly pauses to grimace. “Remember that thing I said about my brain going too fast for my mouth? Yeahhhh. That. It just happened again.”

   Pan chuckles, warm and smooth like honey bourbon. He kisses Holly on the forehead and lingers. “Should the time come where you’d like to put action behind your curiosity, know I will meet you with enthusiastic consent. I love you, Holly.”

   “I love you too,” She murmurs, leaning into the sweet kisses he’s pressing to her forehead. Then she starts to giggle to herself. “Hey, um, don’t judge me. But can I ask you something kinda weird?”

   “Be my guest,” He kisses her a final time before pulling away to gaze down at her. 

   “Do you even have, um, y’know?”

   “I beg your pardon?”

   Holly quickly glances down at his crotch before looking back up. 

   It takes him a second. 

   Pan settles into a smirk. “I suppose you’ll have to wait and see, now won’t you?”

   Holly squeals with a laugh. She throws her arms around Pan’s neck and hugs him tightly, relishing the way she can feel him chuckling from the vibrations of his engine. 

   “Is it big?”

   Pan barks a laugh. “Bold one, you are. I wasn’t expecting that.”

   She continues to giggle like a fan girl. 

   Ghostly faces drip from the ceiling behind them and form a puddle of writhing shadows. 

   Smiling fondly to himself, Pan pushes himself back up to a stand. He supports Holly by resting his forearm beneath her so she can sit comfortably while holding him around the neck. 

   “Would it even fit?”

   “Fräulein!” Pan scolds while laughing. “Why, the nerve. Your audacity is most certainly astounding today.”

   “What? Don’t even with me. You know you’ve thought about it.”

   “Behind every accusation is an admission, madam. You should stop while you’re ahead.”

   Holly’s still giggling. “I’m in danger.”

   A Digimon rises out of the shadows behind them, congealed in liquid darkness. Sensing the surge in power, Pan sets Holly down without a word and faces this new Digimon. 

   Pan motions for Holly to stay behind him. His engine revs and the surrounding temperature rises. Holly sticks to his left leg like a child hiding themselves behind a tree and steals a peek.

   “On second thought, maybe I actually am in danger,” She says.

   The liquid encasing the Digimon melts and transforms into a large, open book beneath his feet, acting as a platform for the Digimon to float above like an arcane wizard.

   Wisemon, an ultimate level Digimon and the culmination of the Bakemon joining as one through Digivolution. Dressed in a set of academic robes and a hood of mummy bandages, Wisemon’s most notable feature outside of his book is his lack of a face, with only a set of glowing eyes emanating from the blackness beneath his robes.  

   The angel wings sprouted from his back and pointed at the ground are small, seemingly more for decoration than use. Ink from his book of languages unknown to mankind shimmer from the pages with demonic runes. 

   “According to my documents, neither of you have registered downstairs. I cannot allow you to stay here any longer. Seeking refuge in my Asylum is for my patients, and my patients alone,” The Wisemon says.

   His voice is soft, haunted by a chorus of ghostly whispers behind every word. 

   “While not an offense punishable by deletion,” The Wisemon lifts a decayed finger and points at Holly. “Bringing color to this town is. Surrender that shade of blue and leave this place at once.”

   “Wait, my Crest? Are you being serious right now? That’s what’s been going on this whole time?” 

   Pan’s engine revs again. 

   Holly takes her crest off and holds it out in front of her, the fist behind the screen brightening. Pan looks down at her and grins like she’s just brought out a box of illegal fireworks. She smiles back at him before addressing Wisemon. 

   “You want it? Come and get it.”

   Pan spreads his arms out in greeting and steps forward, melting his footsteps into the floor as his temperature skyrockets. He laughs with fire.

   “Care to dance, comrade?”

Chapter nineteen: Love Language

   Terriermon parts the curtain of vines and approaches Henry on the balcony, who’s leaning over a guardrail watching the market down below. 

   An acorn bonks Henry on the head. He looks up and frowns at a green Digi-fairy.

   “Would you cut that out?” Henry says. 

   The Digi-fairy sticks its tongue out at him and retreats into the leaves. 

   Terriermon notices a few acorns at Henry’s feet. 

   He chooses not to quip about them. Instead, Terriermon hops up onto the guardrail and walks on it like a tightrope. “You’ll never guess what I got out of Beardie in there.”

   Henry closes his eyes and inhales deeply. 

   The seconds stretch.

   “Unless it’s something to do with where Zhuqiaomon is, I’m not in the mood for it.”

   “Seems to me like you’re never in the mood for anything,” Terriermon says. 

   “If by anything you mean your antics,” Henry shakes his head and sighs. “Can you just tell me if he told you anything important or not?”

   “Sheesh. You don’t have to bite my head off or anything,” Terriermon says. “He said the big turkey’s in the south, and—“

   “Yeah, we know that already,” Henry interrupts. “We know the Sovereign rule over the cardinal directions, but what we don’t know is where he’s at. All we know is he’s in the desert somewhere and it’s not like that’s been any help. Not with how large the Digital World is.”

   “Maybe if you’d let me finish for a change?”

   Henry’s brows furrow. “He told you where he’s at?”

   “Yep. He’s got a palace at World’s End and that’s where he’s been holed up in. There’s more than stuffing up his you know what too, cause he’s worked up over something else, but nobody knows what. If you ask me, it’s probably because he sat down before realizing he left the remote on the other side of the couch.”

   Henry clasps a hand over his eyes and exhales. 

   “What’s wrong?” Terriermon asks. 

   “We were supposed to meet up with Takato two hours ago,” Henry says. 

   “Like they’re gonna mind. C’mon, Henry. Momentai! It’s Takato and Guilmon we’re talking about here. They probably forgot too, it’s nothing to get your panties twisted over.”

   A trio of Digi-Fairies peek through the leaves. One is pink, another is blue, and the green one from earlier pulls out a bucket of popcorn. 

   “You’re missing the point. I know they probably forgot, but I didn’t. I care about these things, Terriermon. We were in there for hours, why didn’t you think to ask him sooner?”

   “Well excuse me, Mr. Punctual. You could have asked him too, y’know.”

   “I did!” Henry slams a fist against the guardrail. He recovers his composure with a few deep breaths while patting the air in front of him down. “I did ask him. He told us the same thing the other Gekomon told us. I don’t know if it’s because they don’t trust humans or not, but now I’m learning you could have asked all along and we could have left by now?”

   “Wait, me? But I—“ Terriermon stops and narrows his eyes at Henry. “Ever think they never told you nothin’ because they can see right through you? I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t trust someone who looks like they’re about to go off at any minute.”

    The blue Digi-fairy grabs a handful of popcorn. 

   “Well, maybe I wouldn’t feel that way if I didn’t have a Digimon who tried to sabotage me at every angle. Between what I’ve got going on at home and school, and now this, I’ve got enough on my plate without you always having to say something,” Henry looks at Terriermon with disgust. “Ugh, why can’t you just be more like Renamon or Guilmon? Why did I have to end up with the troublemaker?”

   “Because you chose me, remember?” Terriermon laughs to hide his oncoming tears. “I-I guess it just goes to show how important it is to learn from your mistakes, right?”

   Terriermon’s laughter turns into broken chuckles. “I don’t have to be your Digimon, Henry. You can just say the word and I’ll bounce on out of here.”

   “You know I didn’t mean it like that. Look, I’m—“ Henry pauses. “Wait, are you crying?”

   “Didn’t think you cared enough to notice.”

   Henry puts his face in his hands. “I can’t believe this is happening. This is like Suzie all over again.”

   The pink Digi-Fairy reaches into the popcorn bucket and frowns. It’s empty. The green Digi-Fairy pulls out another bucket and the blue and pink one celebrate. 

   “I’m sorry. It’s just I’ve been under a lot of stress lately,“ Henry looks around for Terriermon and can’t find him. “Wait, Terriermon? Did you—“

   Something as light as a crumpled receipt taps Henry on the head. It bounces off and rolls to a stop on the guardrail. Henry picks it up and studies it, squinting his eyes. 

   “Is this—Is this a popcorn bucket?”

   Henry looks up and an acorn bonks his forehead. He shields his face and another two smack his knuckles. Once he’s sure they’re done, he puts his hands down to scowl up at the fairies. 

   They turn around and pull their garments down to moon him. Giggles follow before they disappear into wisps of blue, pink, and green. 

   Henry rolls his eyes and leaves to find Takato. 

   And if he’s lucky, Terriermon. 

   An explosion of glass sprays from the second story window of the asylum. Smoke follows and Wisemon is thrown out, back smacking against the old timey building across the road. The wooden sign spelling Saloon hangs sideways above the doorway.

   It creaks as it sways. 

   A trio of blazing phoenixes race out of the asylum window. Their beaks pierce Wisemon like darts, their bodies detonating in rapid succession. 

   The wooden sign falls and crashes to the porch floor.

   Holly and Pan stick their necks out the window. Glowing with heat from his [Phoenix Frenzy], Pan shakes his hand. Steam hisses from the pipes sliding out of his back and calves to cool his temperature.

   He scoops Holly and leaps out of the asylum. The cement cracks under his boots. As soon as he sets Holly down she turns to face him, bouncing on her heels and giggling. 

   She gestures for him to come closer. He bends at the chest and she whispers to him. 

   Pan’s grin widens with every word. 

   He cracks his knuckles. Wisemon peels himself out of the Saloon, dust crumbling. He recenters himself on the opposite side of the street from Pan.

   Reaching down towards his book, Wisemon holds out four fingers and the letters T, A, K, E lift off the page to encircle his hand. 

   Pan marches into the middle of the road. Both of his arms unfold into a series of belt fed machine guns, lasers, rocket launchers, plasma rifles, and flamethrowers with enough ammunition stockpiled to fluster a doomsday prepper. 

   And a pair of tiny auto canons pop out of his knees, as a treat.

   Holly giggles. Pan looks over his unfolded shoulder of rockets and chuckles. “I had thought you Might enjoy that.”

   He turns back to face Wisemon and noisily clears his throat. Impersonating the charisma of a WWE commentator, he announces, “Let’s get ready to ruuuuuuuuumble!”

   Holly squeals with delight.

   She flexes her arm and pats her small bicep. 

   “Yeahhhh! Make him eat dirt!”

   Pan opens up with his [Superior Firepower]. 

   Rockets punch out of their tripods and whistle towards Wisemon. The churning of spooling machine guns and their bullet casings clinking against the road fill the air. Whooshing flamethrowers follow the sizzle of screaming lasers. Plasma rifles roar their energy beams like betrayed dragons. 

   Smoke consumes Wisemon. The Saloon catches on fire. Planks of wood crash against the dance floor inside and disintegrate. The shot glasses lining the bar ignite. Flames crawl across the wooden sign and eat the letters one at a time.

   Glowing eyes hang in the smoke like Will-ó-the-Wisps. Corpse hand held out and distorting the air, Wisemon floats forward and reveals every bullet, rocket, laser line, and plasma beam fired at him collected in suspended animation. 

   The pages of his book below flip to a new chapter. Wisemon lifts his other hand. He holds up five fingers, makes a fist, then gestures with two fingers. The letters C, O, U, N, T, E, and R peel off their page and come to his hand. He fuses them into the invisible vacuum holding Pan’s artillery. 

   Pan’s weaponry folds back into his arms and he braces himself with the squaring of his shoulders. Trails of energy gather around his engine. They spiral as they gain momentum, faster and faster, spinning with his fan blades. 

   Wisemon circles his wrist and the ammunition rotates to face Pan. He points at Pan and sends the payload into him with his [Counter] spell. 

   Without the time to brace himself, Pan releases his [Particle Accelerator] and skids back against the road, kicking up asphalt. 

   Detonating in the middle like a star gone supernova, Pan’s [Particle Accelerator] meets Wisemon’s [Counter] with a boom. Another boom follows, chased by a rush of wind and the shattering of all the windows in Monochromia. 

   It blows Holly’s hair back and she shields herself. Specks of debris tap against her skin and stop without warning. Crunching metal follows, sounding every bit like a car crashing into a brick wall and folding in on itself. 

   The dust begins to settle.

   Holly winces and steals a peek through the gap in her arms. 

   Darkness. And the clapping of fabric. There’s a light shimmering above her with a hint of electronic feedback, soft chirps and beeps. It tickles her ears. 

   “A tad too close for my liking,” Pan says. 

   She looks up to see him smiling down at her. When he lowers his coat, he reveals scorch marks in the road from his haste to shield her from harm.

   Holly follows them until she looks up.

   Smoldering flames crackle atop ruins. There’s an old hearse down the road on fire. Glass debris twinkle on the asphalt. Every shard catches Wisemon’s reflection and he looks at Holly through them. 

    He floats forward and bleeds through the thinning smoke. The pages of his book whoosh as they flip in search of a new chapter. When the final page falls, Wisemon holds up ten fingers and the letters B,O,D,Y D,O,U,B,L,E spin around his wrists. 

   He points his fingers out and spreads them. He casts [Body Double] and the letters fly towards the shards of glass and sink into them. Standing with their arms crossed over their chest, ten copies of Wisemon rise like mummies. 

   “Liebling,” Pan whispers to Holly like he’s got a secret. “Let’s be naughty and spoil his fun, what do you say?”

   A laser rotates out of Pan’s forearm. He points his fist at a tilted shard of glass, bends his wrist down, and fires. 

   The beam ricochets like a ping pong ball in a funhouse and shatters the copies of Wisemon, leaving only their floating letter behind. 

   They return to Wisemon’s book and lay back onto the page. 

   “Aww, that’s so mean,” Holly laughs. “I love it.”

   “I had thought you Might see it my way,” Pan chuckles. 

   Wisemon sighs and rolls his eyes. Expecting a trade, he holds out his hand in anticipation. 

   “Return the Crest, or suffer my curse,” He says with ghostly reverb. 

   “Where have I heard that from?” Holly asks. 

   “Accessing Database. Researching the most recent audio recording from Tamer: Holly Leonhardt. Source cited: Courage the Cowardly Dog, Episode Seven, Part One, Titled: King Ramses’ Curse.” 

   “Oh, yeah! I love that show.”

   Holly and Pan grin at one another. 

   Wisemon sighs again. “Aw, come on.”

   “If you insist,” Pan blasts Wisemon with an energy beam from out of his palm. 

   It opens a hole in Wisemon’s chest large enough to peer through. Gesturing with his hand, Wisemon quickly gathers the letters H,E,A,L and—

   Pan snaps his fingers and triggers a spark. 

   [Spontaneous Combustion]

   Flames consume Wisemon like a stricken match. His letters burn to ash while his book catches fire, eating away at the pages like eager caterpillars chewing a leaf. The hole in his chest spreads. Data trickles out, the binary numbers a rainbow of colors as they flitter away from Wisemon. They breathe life into whatever they brush against before disintegrating. Color begins to spread out from Wisemon rather than just his data. 

   The incandescent orange of fire. Blades of green grass poking out of concrete. Weathered cottages with cream chipped paint. White picket fences around blue and purple hydrangeas. 

   Wisemon’s yellow eyes hanging in the flames. 

   “Hey, reading rainbow!” Holly shouts at him before he’s gone. “Why did you take all the color? What gives?”

   The last of his data crawls over his eyes.

   “…Because it was tasty…”

   Wisemon sighs into nothingness. 

   “Sounds like you at a gas pump,” Holly says under her breath, leaning into Pan. 

   Pan laughs. 

   An explosion of color ripples out of Wisemon in a shockwave, painting the town of Monochromia with life once again. 

   Coral clay rooftops. A bright, blue sky. The earthy and rich browns of wooden homes. 

   The leftover data containing Wisemon’s identity is slowly carried off by the wind. 

   “Last chance if you’re gonna absorb him,” Holly says. 

   “Negative. I’d prefer his reincarnation. Should we cross paths again, perhaps he’ll be different,” Pan says. “Using those I’ve defeated as a ladder to climb for the sake of power is beneath me.”

   Holly pats his thigh and smiles. “Wow, you really are just a big ol’ Teddy Bear.”

   “Come again?”

   “It means despite how strong you are, you’re soft. In a good way, I mean.”

   “Best we keep that to ourselves, madam,” Pan chuckles. 

   “Soft or not, it didn’t stop you from stringing him along like you did.”

   “Oh, hush. He was a good sport about it.”

   “Pan, he’s dead. You literally killed him.”

   “Affirmative. It was just a wee bit of fun, no harm done.”

   “Dude, no,” Holly laughs. “You didn’t ‘just’ kill him. You gave his ego a dirt nap with that laser trick. I don’t think reincarnation is gonna save him from that.”

   “Ah. I suppose you’re right. That was rather nasty of me, wasn’t it?” Pan giggles. 

   “You’re the freakin’ worst, I love you so much.”

   Pan grins in response. 

   She gestures for him to take a knee and he does as instructed. 

   Holly pulls out her screwdriver. She gives it a twirl, bounce, and dance along her knuckles. “Let’s do a quick check in and see how you’re doing, sound good?”

   “Affirmative. Oh, that would be most wonderful. A little bit of maintenance sounds rather nice.”

   Despite the return of color to Monochromia and Wisemon’s defeat, Holly feels as if a ghost just passed through her. 

   It didn’t rain for long that day. Just in the morning.

   But she’s always felt that even the sky paused to weep at her Grandpa’s funeral. 

   “Can you run that last part by me again?”

   “Affirmative. A little bit of maintenance sounds rather nice.”

   Holly smiles to herself. “Yeah, it does.”

   It didn’t take her long to give Pan a routine check-up. 

   Tightened some screws. Made sure there wasn’t any residue in his steam vents. His hydraulics were great, and his suspension didn’t show any signs worth worrying over. No engine knocking. And his weapons are still rotating in and out as they should.

   Before she brings him back Online, she touches his face and smiles.

   She doesn’t know when or how they’re getting to Earth. But if Pan thought he liked the fuel at the Train station, she thinks he’d go bonkers for some SR18.

   It ain’t cheap. But she knows where to get a drum for a reasonable price.

   Or for trade. The manager at Sunoco likes her work.

   Holly brought Pan back Online, returned her screwdriver into her pocket beside her Digivice, and they left for The Great Divide. 

   Windchimes jingle from the roof tent of a market stall.

   Takato rifles through their fluted pipes and smiles to himself. 

   A sun and moon. Sunflowers. Hummingbirds, Dolphins, and he chokes down a laugh when he finds one with a grinning Gekomon for its top piece. 

   “Excuse me,” Takato calls for the Gekomon running the stall. “Can you tell me how much for this one?”

   An elderly Gekomon woman hobbles over with her cane. “Ohhh. I thsee you have an eye for quality.”

   “Ahaha, not really,” Takato rubs the back of his neck. “It’s just that my Mom has a thing for putting fairy stuff in her garden, and I think she’d really like this.”

   “Ohhh. I thsee, I thsee. Well, my prices are firm,” The Gekomon elder looks around suspiciously. “Will you be attending our thcelebration?”

   “It’s not that I don’t want to, I’m just already kinda late meeting up with a friend.”

   “Will your friend be attending our thcelebration?”

   “Actually, I’m not sure about that. But I can ask him and find out.”

   “If you two come to our thceleration, you can have that for free.”

   “I can try and convince him?”

   The elderly Gekomon leers her eyes. “I thsee, the love you have for your mother has limitsth. Okay. Carry on, now.”

   Takato winces at that. 

   He looks around for reassurance despite knowing there isn’t any to be had. 

   “Wait,” Takato smiles sheepishly. “I’m sure I could talk him into it. His Mom is into musicals, so I think that means he’d like them too? Well, actually, Henry is a bit more quiet, so maybe not, but— Let’s pretend you didn’t hear that last part. Can I still have it? I’m sorry if I’m asking for too much. I don’t mean to, it’s just— annnd I’m gonna stop myself there.”

   He’s sweating. 

   The elderly Gekomon narrows her eyes even further. “Are you lying to me, boy?”

   “No, ma’m,” Takato says earnestly.

   She slowly nods. Then she retrieves the wind chime and packages it up for Takato, wrapping it in parchment paper before sliding it in a bag with a smiling Gekomon stamped on the front.

   She waddles behind her counter, punches some numbers into her register, and zeroes out the windchime from her inventory. Then she swings her cane like a baseball bat against the gong behind her. 

   Several Gekomon from across the market whoop, holler, and clap with applause in response. 

  Takato offers her his thanks and scurries away towards a very fat and miserable Guilmon. 

   He’s just laying there, belly up beside a food truck. 

   “Aw, buddy,” Takato laughs. “What did you get into this time?”

   Guilmon groans. “Takato-mon, my tummy can’t take anymore, but they won’t stop giving me food.”

   “I don’t think they’d mind if you told them no.”

   “But my tummy will,” Guilmon whines. 

   “Well, here. I’ve got you covered,” Takato pokes Guilmon’s belly and imitates his Mom. “No more food, tummy. That’s enough for today.”

   Guilmon groans again. 

   A Gekomon with a greasy apron steps out of the truck, holding a platter of sizzling sausages. “Are you ready? Here comes the next thserving!”

   “Yay!” Guilmon scrambles over his own belly to get to the platter. “More yummy treats! And now I get to share with Takato-Mon, wahoo!”

   Takato blinks. He watches Guilmon pour the entire platter down his gullet. The Gekomon heads back into the food truck and fires up another round of sausages. 

   “Y’know, I don’t know what I was expecting,” Takato says. 

   Guilmon flops over and whimpers. “I’m sorry, Takato-mon. It happened again even though you told it no more.”

   “What am I going to do with you?” Takato chuckles. He walks up beside Guilmon and pats his belly. “How are you holding up, buddy? Outside of looking like you’re about to pop, I mean.”

   “I think I need a nap.”

   “No kidding.” 

   “Oh! Takato-mon, I forgot to tell you, but I made a new friend.”

   “Really? Who?”

   An acorn bonks Takato on the head.

   “Ow,” He says.

   Guilmon grunts as he gets up, wobbles due to the fullness of his belly, and finally settles.

   He points his snout at the roof of the food truck. “She’s up there. I think she likes you.”

   Sitting with one leg crossed over the other, a yellow Digi-Fairy smiles and waves at Takato.

   “Okayyyy,” Takato says. “That’s uh, one way to make new friends. Why do they keep throwing acorns at us?”

   “Because they throw them at people they like and don’t like,” Guilmon giggles. “You’ll know when they like you because they’ll also bring you other things, or they’ll come and sit on your head.”

   Guilmon waves his claws around. “Yoohoo! Digi-Fairy! It’s me, Guilmon! Do you want to come and sit on my head?”

   The Digi-fairy puts a finger over its lips in thought. With a glittering trail of gold behind it, the Digi-Fairy zips over to Guilmon and plops down on his head.

   “See, I told you,” Guilmon says.

   “Wow,” Takato stares at the Digi-Fairy with awe. “She’s so pretty.”

   The Digi-Fairy crosses its arms and shakes its head. 

   “Oh, um, he?” 

   The Digi-Fairy frowns.

   “Oh! They, right? I’m sorry.”

   The Digi-Fairy shakes its head again. 

   Takato looks at Guilmon for help. “I’m bad at this stuff, can you lend me a hand here? Is there one I’m missing?”

   “I dunno,” Guilmon says. “Maybe they’re whatever they want to be.”

   The Digi-Fairy leans back and cackles. It leaves Guilmon and chooses to nest in Takato’s hair instead.

   “Heyyy, you were just messing with me, weren’t you?”

   Takato gets laughter in response.

    It puts a smile on his face.

   “Y’know, I think I’ve heard of these little guys before,” Takato says. “I think there’s a card for them in the older sets.”

   “Can we keep one and bring them home? Please, Takato-mon? I get lonely while you’re at school,” Guilmon’s ears droop.

   “My Mom nearly had a cow when she saw you, but she also likes fairies,” Takato thinks about it. “I’m sorry, Guilmon. I’m going to have to think a bit on that one, okay?”

   “Aww, it’s okay. I understand,” Guilmon rubs his snout into Takato affectionately. 

   The Digi-Fairy folds forward and sighs with defeat.

   “Hey, don’t be sad. I didn’t say no,” Takato says.

   The Digi-Fairy perks up and plays with Takato’s hair.

   “My Mom is gonna kill me,” Takato mumbles to himself. 

   Henry walks around from the front of the food truck. “I thought I heard your voice.”

   “Oh! Henry! Heyyyy, man, ahahaha, what’s up—“ Takato winces with a smile. “Yeah, I’ve got nothing. I’m sorry for being late. It’s just—“

   Henry holds up a hand. “Say less. I’m the one that should be sorry. I have a feeling we wouldn’t even be in this mess if it weren’t for me.”

   “Huh? What do you mean by that?”

   “Never mind,” Henry looks at the Digi-Fairy atop Takato’s head. “So, that’s why they keep throwing acorns at us? They want to be our friends?”

   The Digi-Fairy scowls at Henry. With a snooty hmph, it flies away. 

   “Awww,” Guilmon wilts. “I hope she comes back.”

   “I don’t understand what their deal is,” Henry says.

   “Wellll, Guilmon said they throw them at people they like, and at people they don’t. But I guess they’ll come and sit on your head if they like you, have they done that yet?”

   “Oh! They’ll also bring you shiny things! See?” Guilmon lifts his tongue and reveals two beads, a penny, and a polished pebble.

   “Have you had those in your mouth this entire time?” Takato asks.

   “Yeah, I don’t have anywhere else to put them,” Guilmon says. “I wish I had pockets. Then I could carry all kinds of things.”

   Takato holds his hand out. “Silly boy. You could have just asked me to hold them for you.”

   “But I didn’t want to bother you,” Guilmon says after giving Takato the fairy gifts.

   “Wait, what?” Takato puts them in his pocket, wiping drool off on his pants. “Is that how you’ve been feeling lately, bud?”

   “No. But I get worried, sometimes,” Guilmon says.

   “That’s okay. I get worried too. But you’ve gotta promise you’ll come to me when you start to feel like that, okay?”

   “Okay, I promise,” Guilmon nuzzles Takato. 

   “No, they haven’t brought me anything, let alone sit on my head,” Henry says.

   “Maybe give them some time?” Takato looks around Henry. “Hey, uh, looks like you’re missing someone?”

   “I know, don’t remind me,” Henry says. “I don’t know what the deal has been with him lately.”

   Takato and Guilmon exchange a concerned look.

   “Am I missing something?” Henry asks.

   “You do seem kinda stressed lately,” Takato says. 

   “No kidding. Do you mind if we find somewhere to talk? If you’re up for it, that is. I could really use some advice,” Henry says.

   “Wait, from me? Are you sure? I promise I’m not trying to get out of helping or anything, but I don’t think I’m the right guy to ask when it comes to stuff like this.”

   Henry glances between Guilmon and Takato. “No, I have a feeling you are. Trust me.”

   The back doors of the food truck swing open. Carrying another platter of smoked sausages, the Gekomon with the greasy apron holds them up high and grins.

   Guilmon looks at Takato with puppy dog eyes.

   Takato laughs. “You’re going to give yourself a tummy ache.”

   “I know,” Guilmon says. “But I can smell them, Takato-mon. And now I really want them again.”

   “If you keep it up at this rate, I think you’re going to turn into one,” Takato says. “But go ahead. Just don’t hurt yourself, alright?”

   “Wahoo!” Guilmon raises his arms in celebration before scampering off towards the sausage platter. “Takato-mon said I could become a yummy sausage!”

   Takato snorts a laugh. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with him.”

   “Seems to me like you’re doing great,” Henry says.

   Takato gives Henry a bashful, albeit thankful smile.

   He calls over to Guilmon, pointing at the picnic area. “We’ll be over there, alright buddy?”

   Having already downed another platter, Guilmon groans and falls onto his back. He holds up a claw in response, and Takato takes it as a thumbs up.

   Henry puts a hand on Takato’s back and gives him a pat. Takato smiles to himself, rolls his eyes fondly at Guilmon, and leaves with Henry to find a table.

   Guilmon drops his head to the side and spots a sausage on the ground. He tries to extend his snout and nip at it. Finding it out of reach, Guilmon grunts and shimmies his way towards it.

   But he can’t.

   “Oh no, I’m stuck,” Guilmon whimpers. 

   The yellow Digi-Fairy returns and lands on his mountainous belly. She peers down at him, cocking her head to the side.

   Guilmon whimpers again. 

   She thinks for a moment before fluttering to the sausage. Putting her back against it, she heaves and kicks her feet against the ground until she gets it moving. Then she rolls it closer to Guilmon. 

   Guilmon sucks it into his mouth and eats it.

   “Thank you, Digi-Fairy. I’m glad you’re my friend,” Guilmon says before passing out.

   He startles himself awake with a snore. 

   Then he falls right back asleep. 

    Giggling to herself, the Digi-Fairy darts away, retrieves a pair of acorns, and returns to stuff them in Guilmon’s nostrils. Guilmon snores again and the acorns shoot out of his nose.

   The Digi-Fairy hops, giggles, and claps.

   She puts her fingers up to her mouth and whistles.

   A green Digi-Fairy followed by another two, one pink and one blue, come to join her. They perform a group hug before zipping off to retrieve more acorns. 

   Before taking their seat, Henry spots Kazu, Kenta, and Rika at a table on the other side of the outdoor food court. 

   “Wait,” Henry says to Takato before he sits. “Do you mind if we take this somewhere else? I don’t mean anything by it, but,” Henry gestures with the tilt of his head towards Kazu.

   “Why? Are you okay— Oh! Yeah, sure, I’ve gotcha. No problem,” Takato lowers his voice as they head into the woods. “Did you see Rika over there? I think she was smiling. It’s nice but also kinda scary.”

   Henry laughs. “I know, right? She’s come a long way since we first met her. Especially where Renamon is concerned.”

   The leaves rustle. Takato and Henry look up into the trees. They find Renamon peering down at them. 

   “You called?” She says.

   “Oh, hi up there, uh, Renamon,” Takato cringes. “Nice to see you?”

   “It is nice to see you too,” She says.

   Henry puts a hand over his mouth in thought.

   Then he sighs and his posture wilts. “Have you seen Terriermon?”

   “Yes,” Renamon nods once. 

   “Let me rephrase that: Where did you last see him?” 

   “He asked me not to tell you,” Renamon says.

   Henry scoffs. “Of course he would do something like this. I just don’t get it. What’s gotten into him lately?”

   “I found him crying,” Renamon says. “He said you accused him of acting like your sister.”

   “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

   “Yet it did,” Renamon says. 

   Takato puts a hand on Henry’s shoulder, giving him an apologetic smile.

   Henry faces the ground. “But that’s the thing, he is acting like her. None of this makes any sense. How come he gets to mess with me all he wants, but when I say something back, I’m the bad guy?”

   “You were cruel and he wasn’t,” Renamon says.

   Henry’s mouth tightens. He doesn’t say anything. 

   “I don’t know about Terriermon, but sometimes I feel more like I’m Guilmon’s Mom or Dad. Maybe Terriermon is the same? I don’t know. Do you think maybe he’s acting like this because he wants more attention, but doesn’t know how to ask?”

   “I can see that being the case. However, he knows the stress I’m under right now.”

   “Does he?” Renamon asks.

   “Well, yeah,” Henry looks up at Renamon. “How can he not? He lives with me. And he knows money is tight. Trust me, I hear enough of it between him and Suzie as it is. And never mind my Dad butting in every time we get a letter in the mail from MIT. He keeps asking about my scholarships, how much I’m getting from financial aid, and I get it. I know it’s been hard on him since Mom fell. But why can’t he ask my older brother and sister? Why is it always me? Why—” A pause. “I’m sorry. Please, just give me a second.”

   Henry practices his breathing exercises. 

   “Trust me, he knows,” Henry sighs. 

   “There’s a difference between seeing and understanding,” Renamon says. “Assuming is likely what led you down this path.”

   “Do I really have to sit him down and explain all the details? Now do you see why I said he’s just like my sister?”

   “Yes. And I also see Rika in you, before she cared to understand me as a Digimon rather than a tool,” Renamon says. “I believed the same of myself. But we’ve chosen to grow together, whereas you and Terriermon have not.”

   “All I’m hearing from this is I’m the one in the wrong, I’m the one who needs to apologize, and I should skip over the fact he’s been the one provoking me, despite how many times I’ve asked him to stop? I can’t believe this. How am I the bad guy?” Henry puts a hand over his face. “Why now.”

   “Heya, Henry?” Takato grips his shoulder. “I don’t think that’s what she means. I don’t know if this is gonna help, but one time my Dad said something to me about my Mom and I’d like to share it with you, if that’s alright.”

   “Fine by me. Not like it’s going to make things worse,” Henry says.

   “Jeeze, I hope not,” Takato tries to joke with Henry. “But, uhhh, yeah! On with the story. I can’t remember when it happened, but my Mom was realllly busting my Dad’s chops about not cleaning out our toaster oven. And he just kinda stood there and took it. Didn’t say a word, which really flustered Mom. So, she stormed out and he cleaned the oven.”

   Takato moves his hand off of Henry’s shoulder. He clasps it on Henry’s back instead, and scoots closer. “I asked him about it later and why he didn’t say anything back. And he said it was because he loves her more than he loves being right.”

   “That’s nice and all, but we’re missing the fact that she had been asking him for what I’m going to assume is a while to clean that oven out. She was right. So, why is she being painted as the one at fault here?” Henry says.

   “Oh, no. Trust me, she was right. She had been asking him for weeks. But do you really think yelling at someone like that is the right answer? Because she didn’t. My Mom came home that night with my Dad’s favorite takeout and said she was sorry. I think that’s how they’ve been able to stay together as long as they have. Sometimes it’s not about being right, so much as it’s about being okay with being wrong every once in a while. Even when you don’t think you are. This may seem harsh, but buddy, you’ve gotta love Terriermon more than you love being right.”

   Henry squeezes his eyes shut. “I have to do better.”

   “You can if you choose,” Renamon says.

   Her ears twitch. She leans forward and peers through the trees. Her hair stands on edge.

   “You alright up there? You look kinda twitchy,” Takato says.

   “I can sense the presence of a powerful Digimon nearby,” Renamon glances up as birds fly away overhead. She hops down and tucks Takato under one arm, and Henry under the other. She ignores their questions and protests.

   “The two of you are coming with me. It’s too dangerous for you to be out here without your Digimon,” Renamon leaps back into the trees, hopping from branch to branch like an Olympic gymnast.

   “I think I’m gonna be sick,” Takato puts both hands over his mouth.

   Henry looks at him with concern, twigs poking out of his hair. “Yeah, and now we know what it feels like to be a kangaroo.”

   Renamon pushes off the last branch with a kick.

   Takato spots a beetle clutching her fur.

   “Oh, hey little guy—“

   Wind tears the beetle off and it shoots backwards.

   “Aw, nuts,” Takato says. 

   Renamon lands with a soft thud at the foot of Kazu, Kenta, and Rika’s picnic table. 

   “Heyyyyy!” Kazu laughs and elbows Kenta. “The cavalry has arrived! About time you guys showed up.”

   “What’s going on?” Rika asks. “What did you two do now?”

   Renamon sets Takato and Henry down. 

   “That’s one way to say hello,” Henry says.

   Takato adjusts his goggles. “Maybe we should let Renamon explain.”

   “There’s a powerful Digimon headed this way. An Ultimate,” Renamon sniffs the air. “It’s injured.”

   Henry fidgets while picking the leaves out of his hair. 

   Rika gets out of her seat. She joins Renamon’s side, picking a twig out of Henry’s hair. 

   She flicks it away. 

   “Didn’t know I had missed one. Thanks for that,” Henry says sheepishly.

   “Don’t mention it,” Rika says. Then she turns to Renamon. “Is it something we need to be worried about? If so, I’m ready if you are.”

   Renamon touches Rika’s wrist. Rika turns her paw over and smooths her thumb across a toe bean. She avoids looking at Renamon, but she doesn’t try to hide her smile. 

   “I’m not sure. But if so, I know we can handle it together,” Renamon says. 

   “Yeah,” Rika looks up at Renamon and smirks. “We’ve got this.”

   The forest trembles.

   Footsteps.

   Renamon’s hair stands on edge. Rika teases her fingers against her Digivice at the ready.

   The glint of silver winks through the brush. 

   Knocking a tree over, a Metal Greymon covered in wounds emerges from the forest.

   Knotted welts. Bands of scar tissue across the thighs, ripping through the blue stripes marking its skin. Half of its tail is missing. Its metal arm looks to have been put through a wood chipper prior to assembly.

   The armored helmet isn’t on correctly. The curved horn at the snout is snapped at the halfway mark. And there’s a warped slice of steel buried deep in its shoulder.

   Allowing itself to succumb, the Metal Greymon falls forward and doesn’t try to catch itself. It hits the ground and the forest floor rumbles. More birds scatter.

   An acorn bonks the Metal Greymon’s head, followed by a nickel.

   “Dibs!” Kazu pushes Kenta and dives over the table. He hits the ground running towards the Metal Greymon.

   “Nu uh! That’s not fair!” Kenta fumbles to get up, trips over himself, manages not to fall, and chases after Kenta. “You said you already had a Digimon! Now it’s my turn!”

   Rika scoffs and yells at them. “What am I, chopped liver?! And to think I wanted to be friends with you guys, ugh!”

   “Sorry, Rika! But you know you’re still my best girl!” Kazu waves back laughing. 

   “You guys, stop it!” Henry shouts. “Leave that poor thing alone! It’s— and they’re not listening to me.”

   “Since when have they ever listened?” Rika says. 

   “Can’t blame me for not trying,” Henry says. 

   “We should probably follow them,” Takato says. “Y’know, so that Metal Greymon doesn’t eat them.”

   “When you’re right, you’re right—,” Henry hesitates. “Ignore me. Let’s just make sure they don’t start anything we’re going to have to finish.”

   Henry and Takato take off running towards the Metal Greymon, putting a pause to their step when they notice Rika’s not with them.

   “Aren’t you coming with us?” Henry asks.

   “You two go ahead. I’ll be there in a sec,” Rika says. 

   “Are you okay?” Takato asks. 

   Rika folds her arms over her chest. “What are you, my Dad? Get lost, I said I’ll be there in a sec, alright?”

   Takato and Henry exchange a look. Takato shrugs and Henry gestures with the tilt of his head towards Kazu and Kenta. They take off again, this time choosing to walk.

   “Y’know, there was a joke somewhere in there,” Henry quips.

   “Huh?”

   “About you being her Dad,” Henry says.

   It takes Takato a second.

   And then he starts to sweat. 

   “She didn’t mean it like that!” 

   Henry smirks at Takato. “You sure about that?”

   “Please don’t say it,” Takato whines.

   “I think I’ll keep it in my back pocket for later,” Henry says. 

   Takato frowns.

   “You don’t have any siblings, do you?” Henry says before playfully smacking Takato on the back. “Don’t worry. It’ll come when you least expect it.”

   “That’s actually kinda terrifying,” Takato says. 

   Henry laughs. “What can I say? I’m the middle child, I’ve had to get clever.”

   They join Kazu and Kenta a few moments later.

   “How are you feeling?” Renamon asks.

   “I’m fine, really. But thanks for asking,” Rika says. “I think I just need a minute.”

   “You aren’t used to being around them this much. It will take time. You’re doing well. I promise I would tell you otherwise.”

   Rika nods. With a well earned sigh, she looks up and Ice Devimon’s face flashes over Renamon’s.

   Rika’s eyes widen and she stumbles backwards. Renamon darts forward. She catches Rika before she crashes into the table. Then she turns Rika around to face her, and grasps Rika’s arms firmly. 

   “Hello again, did you miss me?”

   “I don’t know what’s happening, but I do know something is wrong,” Renamon’s tone demands an answer. “Rika, please. Let me help you.”

   Rika shakes her head. 

   “Will you let me hold you?”

   Rika fights back tears. She shakes her head.

   “That’s right. Good girl. No one understands you better than I do. You’re meant to be alone.”

   Renamon closes her eyes in acceptance. She takes a step back from Rika, releasing her arms. “ I’m sorry for overstepping.”

   Rika shakes her head. “Not you. It’s not you.”

   “Don’t you find it strange she’s always here whenever I show up? How many times has it been now? Two or three? But, maybe you’re right. It couldn’t be her, now could it?”

   “I think I just need some space, is all,” Rika keeps her eyes away from Renamon. “Can you go check on Jeri?”

   “Of course. I’ll be back soon,” Renamon bows her head and disappears in a blur.

   Rika doesn’t so much as sit as she does fall into sitting back at the table. She’s trembling. Planting her elbows on the table, she holds her face and focuses on breathing.

   Each breath she shudders in feels like she’s got shards of ice cutting up her lungs. 

   The minutes stretch and the cold subsides.

   She eventually looks up and over at the pitcher of water. Once she’s sure no one is looking, she grabs it and drinks as much of it down as she can, thankful it’s room temperature. 

   She sets it down a third of the way empty. There’s water running down her chin in streams and blotting her shirt. She doesn’t care. Wiping her face clean with the bottom of her shirt, Rika leaves the table and chooses to join the others. 

   An acorn hits her on the head.

   “Ow,” Rika says. 

   She looks up into the trees, her blood turning cold as she anticipates Ice Devimon in the leaves.

   But there’s nothing there. 

   She steadies herself and a rock knocks her on the head.

   “Ow! Hey, that one actually hurt this time!” Rika yells. 

   She bends down and snatches the rock up, ready to throw it back. But then she softens considerably, as if she were a flower closing in on itself for the night.

   It’s a polished river stone with a dip in the middle. 

   She looks further up into the canopy and spots a trio of Digi-Fairies with streams of pink, blue, and green glittering behind them. They weave in and out of the leaves before disappearing. 

   Rika rubs her thumb against the river stone.

   She smiles to herself, puts her hands in her pockets, and shuffles off in a different direction.

   A choir of Gekomon adorned in white robes with gold trim croak, sing, and toot their horns. Their Maestro, a Gekomon wearing a tuxedo entirely too large, waves around a pair of sticks manically because he’s not actually a Maestro, he’s part of the construction crew. 

   Due to an unfortunate accident, the real Maestro is dead. 

   He fell out of bed and bumped his head, and the poor soul just couldn’t get up again in the morning. 

   The funeral is this Thursday at 3pm. Please see a Gekomon for more details. 

   Rows of white plastic chairs parted down the middle by a red carpet sit before the stage. They’re packed full of Digimon, ranging from the majority being Gekomon, all the way down to Jeri and Leomon. There’s only a few remaining empty seats.

   But not the one beside Jeri. Despite it being empty, there’s a neatly folded sweater on the seat from a Gekomon who asked Jeri and Leomon to hold their seat.

   They said they would. And so they have.

   Jeri claps her hands and giggles. She sways to the music akin to pots and pans falling out of a cupboard, and the screaming of exactly fifty three children. 

   She has a Digi-Fairy seated on each shoulder, one purple and the other red. They’re clapping along with her.

   “See, Leomon? Isn’t this so exciting!” 

   Leomon nods and forces himself to smile, his mane infested with acorns as a means of protecting Jeri’s hair from them, seeing as the Digi-Fairies brought her a flower crown. His eye twitches when a Gekomon hits a particularly sour note. 

   “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Leomon says. 

   “They’re so talented,” Jeri sighs romantically. “I wish I was like them.”

   Leomon puts a hand on Jeri’s leg. He looks at her with a level of seriousness better reserved for a court hearing. “The distance between you and those Gekomon on stage when it comes to talent cannot be measured. The number doesn’t exist as it’s too great to count.”

   “Awww, Leomon. You’re going to make me blush!” Jeri giggles and pretends to swat his arm. 

   Leomon chuckles. He settles back into his seat with the crossing of his arms. 

   The end of the aisle stirs. Digimon lift their legs, some pull their feet up into their chair, and others stand up to make room for a Digimon passing by. 

   “Excuse me, coming through— Momentai! Sheesh, it’s not like I meant to step on your tail,” Terriermon squeezes down the aisle. When he reaches Jeri and Leomon, he smiles like he just farted and doesn’t want anyone to call him out on it. 

   “I didn’t think I’d run into you guys here. But, since I am here….. is this seat taken?”

   “I’m sorry, but I’m holding it for a Gekomon who left to use the ladies room,” Jeri smiles and pats her lap. “But you can sit with me if you’d like.”

   “Don’t have to ask me twice,” Terriermon hops into Jeri’s lap. 

   He settles into her lap with a wiggle. 

   Jeri holds Terriermon around the middle and gasps adoringly. “I didn’t know you were so soft, no wonder Henry is holding you all the time.”

   Terriermon’s ears droop. He leans back into Jeri for more comfort. 

   “Are you okay?” Jeri asks.

   “Who, me?” Terriermon perks up. “Yeah! I’m just peachy. Couldn’t be having a better day, actually. How come? Why do you ask?”

   “You just didn’t respond, is all. You usually always have something funny to say,” Jeri takes off her flower crown and sets it on Terriermon’s head. “It’s okay to not be okay.”

   “Whaaaat? Pshhh, no, I’m fine. Really!” 

   Jeri hugs Terriermon tighter and snuggles him. “If you say so.”

  Terriermon huffs. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

   Jeri giggles. “No, there’s not.”

   Terriermon allows himself to fully relax. He closes his eyes and enjoys Jeri’s arms wrapped around him, and he even likes the flower crown on his head. 

   It reminds him of Suzie. 

   A Gekomon blows on his horn and it explodes. Several Gekomon dressed as nurses carrying a gurney rush to the stage, throw him on it, and hurry away.

   There’s a Gekomon following close behind with a red and blue flashing light yelling, “Wee-Woo! Wee-Woo!”

   As they race down the steps they tumble over and drop the gurney, somehow launching the injured Gekomon into the forest like a popsicle shot off it’s stick.

   Silence. 

   One of the Gekomon from the choir steps forward. He plays the funeral song.

   Burr Bur Burrr

   Burr Burrr Burrrr

   Burrr Burrr BuurrrRRREEEEEE—

   “Crap, thsorry,” The Gekomon clears his throat and resumes. 

   Burr Burr Burrrrrrrr!

   Jeri sniffles and wipes a tear from her eye. 

   The Digi-Fairies take to sitting on their knees. They close their eyes and clasp their hands together in prayer. Terriermon peers up at Jeri and lifts a brow. Curious as to what Leomon’s reaction is, he glances over to him.

   Leomon’s glaring down at him.

   Menacingly. 

   Leomon points two fingers at himself, then at Terriermon as if to say, ‘She’s my tamer and I’m watching you.’

   Because that’s absolutely what he wants to say, but he won’t, because there’s a young lady present. And he’s a gentleman. 

   Terriermon smirks at him and nuzzles Jeri.

   “Aww, you’re so affectionate,” She giggles sweetly and hugs him like she would a teddy bear. “I love you too, Terriermon.”

   Leomon scowls.

   A dark blue Digi-Fairy lands on top of his head. It shimmies its butt into his mane and settles in.

   And then it pretends to drive his mane like a race car.

   “The things I do for love,” Leomon mutters. 

   Keramon, a rookie level Digimon with a torso of dangling wires, a yellow circus collar, and insect-like antenna sits beneath the lip of a rock. It covers its mouth and trembles. 

   The double barrel of a shotgun creeps over the edge of the rock. It glints in the sun.

    Tap. Tap.

   Small bits of rock crumble.

   The gun retreats. Keramon keeps its hands over its mouth, closing its eyes. 

   Silence. 

   A black boot crashes through the top of the rock and pins Keramon. The Keramon writhes and wiggles. Light blooms from its mouth as it fights to gather energy. 

   Beelzemon slides his boot up to Keramon’s face like he’s just killed a bug and is smearing it into the pavement. A muffled shriek follows. 

   “Ya think you’ve got it bad?” Beelzemon spits. “Why don’t yous try bein’ out in this desert for as long as I have, then tell me how ya feel!”

   Beelzemon applies pressure to his boot. “Yeah, yous like the taste of that, don’tcha?”

   He lifts his foot knee high and stomps on the Keramon. 

   Data squirts out from beneath his boot like a handful of ketchup packets. 

   He absorbs it and sighs. Reminds him of a long drag off a cigarette. 

   Mounting Behemoth, Beelzemon revs its engine before peeling off with the tires squealing. He zigzags between a pair of data streams.

   The hours stretch. 

   Day becomes night.

   Night becomes day. 

   He curves around another data stream and the silhouette of mountains fades into view, sitting on the horizon. The treetops of a vast forest join in, along with the scintillation of sunlight glittering on sea water.  

   Beelzemon screeches to a halt, kicking up a dust cloud. 

   He dismounts Behemoth to stretch.

   After finishing up by cracking his neck, he leans against Behemoth with the crossing of his arms.  

   “Ain’t that a sight for sore eyes,” Beelzemon says. 

   He mounts Behemoth once more and speeds off to where the mountains, forest, and sea meet the desert.

Chapter twenty: Liar, Liar

   Misty mountains. There’s a chill in the air, winter's breath. An overcast sky. 

   The hours pass with Holly’s head resting between Pan’s neck and shoulder.

   She’s fallen asleep, on and off again. Pan wasn’t kidding when he said the flight from Monochromia to the Great Divide would take them a while. 

   Holly stirs and he adjusts his arms accordingly. 

   Eyelids heavy, she looks off in the distance. 

   How would it work back home if she and Pan wanted to fly around? Would they have to abide by customs? What does that even mean? And how has the arrival of Digimon back home affected things? It’s not like Rika, Henry, or Takato did the best job of hiding their Digimon. 

   Then again, Pan’s nearly ten feet tall, so it’s not like she has much room to talk. He’s not going to be easy to keep a secret. Big yikes. She still hasn’t thought of how to handle that one. They’ll talk once they reach Ebonwumon’s forest. Without the threat of Zhuqiaomon looming over their heads, they’ll have plenty of time to hatch out a plan together. 

   Holly rests her eyes. When she opens them again, she sees a faintly red aura glowing out of a ravine in the mountains. There are orbs the color of blood dripping upwards from it, slow and hypnotic.

   Holly knocks on Pan to get his attention. 

   “Didn’t we see that stuff a few days ago?”

   Pan relaxes his speed and slows to a hover. He sticks his neck out to observe the ravine. 

   The red glow pulses. Thundering booms reverberate from far below, followed by flickering gold.  

   Holly looks to Pan’s face for an answer and freezes. 

   She watches him grow pale. His visor flips to red and starts flashing.

   “Warning. Threat detected. Number of Hostiles: Inconclusive. Hazard level: Apocalyptic. Chance of survival risking involvement: Zero percent. Recommended course of action: Proceed with evasive maneuvers and evacuate immediately.”

   Four arcs of lightning strike the revine. Rising out of the depths like a biblical avatar, a tiger’s head of light roars out an energy blast. 

   “Warning. Threat detected,” Pan clutches Holly. “Fräulein, we must vacate this premises. My scanners have spotted Baihumon and he’s engaged in active combat. This isn’t the place for us.”

   “Wait, is he fighting that red gunk? What is it?”

   “Affirmative. Although I cannot say for certain what it may be.”

   “Can you get a recording of it and send it to Moti?”

   “Affirmative. Recording enabled.”

   A cone of light leaves Pan and spreads towards the revine. Zoomed in on the hellmouth, Holly can see the video coming into focus across the screen of Pan’s visor. 

   Another flash of lightning. Pan recoils and his transmission ends.

   “Are you okay?!” Holly asks.  

   “His light,” Pan hisses and shakes his head. “It’s burning my processors.”

   “Send it and let’s run.”

   “Affirmative. As you wish,” Pan says. 

   He kicks the heel of his boots to jumpstart their engines. After forwarding Moti the recording, Pan’s engines whir with enough power to launch a space shuttle. Then he shoots off in the direction of the Great Divide. 

   He’s gaining speed. Holly’s ears pop.

   Pan shields her head with one of his hands.  

   “Brace yourself,” He shouts over his engines. 

   Time slows. A dull buzz hums in her ears. 

   Holly squeezes her eyes shut. It almost feels like they’re being dragged backwards—

   Pan’s engines scream. 

   The air ripples into rings behind him with a boom as he breaks the sound barrier. 

   They reach the Great Divide ten minutes later without issue. 

   Sweeping down in a smooth arc, Pan hovers above the ground below before touching his boots down. He gently sets Holly onto her feet. Upon seeing her expression, he laughs and sweetly coos at her.  

   Her eyes are so wide it’s like she just saw all the answers in the universe. 

   Too bad she can’t remember any of them. 

   She looks up at Pan, still dazed. “Whoa. That was cool.”

   Pan continues to chuckle with amusement. He strokes the top of her head as a means of doting on her. As he does, Holly observes their surroundings.

   Unlike what she imagined, the four corners of each region don’t touch in the middle. They’re instead separated at the center by a singular, central data stream connecting the Digital World to Earth. It stretches on for miles.

   Holly walks up to it like a child intimidated by a waterfall. She’s close enough to touch it. Like a chaperone taking their job too seriously, Pan hovers behind Holly. He puts his hands on her shoulders and persuades her back.

   “For cryin’ out loud, I ain’t gonna jump in it,” Holly says. 

   “You forget I’ve seen you willingly consume a sandwich off the floor.”

   “Eh. Five second rule.”

   “Young lady, it had been sitting there for several hours.”

   Holly giggles. “Oh, yeah.”

   Pan picks her up like a toddler and walks her away from the data stream. After he sets her down, he points in the direction they’re to be headed in next. “Once my heat sensors have determined it safe to take to flight once more, we’ll be there in, as one Might say, a jiffy.”

   “Thank freakin’ god. It’ll be nice for a change to actually get to rest without having to look over our shoulders,” Holly stretches. “Y’know, I think I’d kill a man for some ice cream right about now.”

   “I’ll see to it you have this cream of ice you speak of. Absent the murder, mind you.”

   “Awww, not even a little murder?”

   “Very well, then. Perhaps a wee bit of murder,” Pan chuckles. 

   Holly beams up at him. Then she returns her sights to the road ahead. 

   The Great Convergence would have been a better name for this place. Despite being in the north, there’s a scar of desert tearing the mountains and the forest apart. The same can be said for Azulongmon’s oceans. She can see patches of mountains towering out of the water. There’s also a few trees out there. Y’know, just chillin’ as trees do.  

   Holly blows out a sigh. 

   At least they’re almost there. 

   She looks back to the desert and squints. There’s a dust cloud trailing behind a fine, black point. It winks in the sunlight. Pan also takes notice of it. He hums to himself in thought before he and Holly exchange a concerned look. 

   “Anything we need to worry about?” 

   “Inconclusive. My scanners have yet to detect any nearby Digimon. Be they a threat, or otherwise.” 

   “How’s your internal temperature?”

   “Still decreasing. I—“

   Without warning, the dust cloud curves towards them. It chases the fine point like it’s an emerging sandworm.

   Pan steps in front of Holly. With a soft touch of his hand, he encourages her behind his leg. “Do not show yourself. I will handle this.”

  “Shouldn’t we just leave?”

  “Negative. If I were to take flight now, I would be incapable of protecting you should I be forced into combat. Nor can we risk the damage to my filtration system a second time.”

   Holly pats his leg. “Alright, big guy. Just be careful.”

   “Affirmative.”

   Pebbles across the granite of where Baihumon’s realm meets the central data stream vibrate, quiver, and bounce. 

   Holly and Pan’s pursuer join them moments later.

   Tires squealing as he slides to a sideways stop, Beelzemon parks Behemoth with a drop of the kickstand. He dismounts, sets his eyes on Pan, and smiles like a sadistic nurse in a mental hospital. 

   “Yous must be pretty powerful, seein’ as I could sense ya from miles away.”

   “Interesting. And why is it that I cannot sense you?”

   “What are yous, an amateur? It ain’t exactly difficult. All ya gots to do is load a few Chrysalimon until you’ve nabbed one that can take yous off the grid.”

   “Ah. I see. It seems I have a loader on my hands. Miserable lot, you are. Tell me, considering they’re your next of kin, how has feasting on the weak fared for you thus far?”

   Beelzemon clicks his tongue. “Lucky I’m in a good mood, tin can. Or else that might’ve just pissed me off.”

   “And the occasion for this good mood?”

   “Well, ya see, I just keep runnin’ into nothin’ but pipsqueaks and shit I ain’t gonna concern myself with. Been itchin’ for a real battle, and—“ Beelzemon pauses. He looks Pan up and down before giving him a wry smile. “Say, yous don’t happen to go by the name of Solar Andromon, do ya?”

   Holly can feel the air around her heating up. 

   “I see Zhuqiaomon sent you,” Pan says flatly.

   Beelzemon tilts his head back and laughs. “Guilty as charged! Oh, I’ve been waitin’ for this. Do me a favor, will ya? And give me all yous got—“

   Holly peeks around Pan’s leg.

   Beelzemon sees her and freezes in place. 

   The seconds stretch. 

   “Freckles?! Is that really you?” Beelzemon’s eyes swirl green. “There ain’t no way! Oh, man, kid. Yous done scared me half to death! Little shit, ya even had me ridin’ pineapple head about where ya went.”

   Holly studies him before she asks, “Impmon?”

   Pan’s visor blinks to red. Beelzemon doesn’t pay him any mind. 

   “Heh. Let’s just say I kicked that good for nothin’ runt to the curb. The name’s Beelzemon now, toots. And I plan on keepin’ it that way,” Beelzemon holsters his guns and walks towards her. “How have yous been? Ya doin’ alright? This buster here ain’t been givin’ yous trouble, has he? Cause I’ve got ya, doll face. I ain’t gonna let nobody—“

   Holly steps out from behind Pan’s leg and Beelzemon spots her Digivice. 

   His eyes widen with realization and shift red. 

   Pan steps in front of Holly. His left arm rapidly unfolds into his thermonuclear canon.

   Beelzemon throws his arms out and starts screaming. 

   “So, this is who you ran off with?! This piece of work?! What about me?!” 

   “W-Wait! I—“

   “Shut the Hell up!” 

   “Hold your tongue when speaking to her,” Pan snarls.

   Beelzemon pulls out a gun and points it at Pan’s head. “I’ll get to ya in a second, so can it! You’ll get your turn.”

   Beelzemon returns to Holly.

   “And here I was,” He starts laughing like a suicide bomber, afraid but committed. “And here I was, worried about yous, had me out here thinkin’ the worst, while you’ve just been running around here like this is all just a buncha fun and games?! Is that what you’ve been doin’, huh?!”

   Holly winces. She can’t find the right words to say. 

   Pan’s engine revs and sweat collects on her forehead.

   It’s getting hotter. 

   Beelzemon chuckles himself down into a smirk. “Well, look at what you’ve done. Yous went and hurt my wittle feelings. Hah! Never needed the likes of yous anyways. Just take a look at me, toots! I don’t need a stinkin’ tamer! Not with the power I have now.”

   It’s getting hotter and hotter. 

   She can smell smoke and the sharp, yet airy tang of burnt ion.

   “I’ll do yous a favor, though. Ya know, since we were such good friends and all. Go on, kid. Get on your knees and kiss where the sun don’t shine goodbye, cause your old pal Beelzemon’s got a bullet with your name on it.”

   A flash of sunlight turns the world white. 

   Holly covers her ears from the roar of Pan’s [Subatomic Discharge].

   Beelzemon fires a round of [Double Impact]. The bullet pierces the middle of Pan’s [Subatomic Discharge] and rips through his thermonuclear canon. It explodes, spraying parts, liquid lava, and wires across the ground below. 

   Singed by Pan’s [Subatomic Discharge], Beelzemon pats his chest down to extinguish the flames. Pan stumbles backwards, left arm port smoking. He trips over a piece of himself. His back hits the ground with a weighted thunk.

   The world holds its breath. 

   Holly puts a hand over her mouth, and her heart.

   She can’t think. She can’t breathe. She can’t—

   Beelzemon puts a foot on Pan’s chest engine. “And here I thought you’d put up more of a fight. Heh. Pops sure did talk yous up for a whole lotta nothing. Had me feelin’ like I was about to have myself a good ol’ time.”

   Holly catches a twinge of movement from Pan’s remaining arm. His hand twitches and he weakly points at the data stream sizzling behind them. 

   “And here ya are, the big man of the hour at last, and you’re nothin’ but a god damn disappointment. One right after the other, eh?” Pan’s chassis gives way to Beelzemon’s boot and dents. “What was that thing yous said, the smart comment about absorbin’ data? Not everyone’s born lucky like yous, tin can. Some of us have had to work for this shit, be it takin or stealin’ and scrappin’ or whateva the case may be. And this power? It’s mine,” Beelzemon leans down and hisses. “It’s mine, yous hear me? And I don’t give a diseased rat's ass over how I got it, how I get it, or who I’ve gotta take it from.”

   Beelzemon stands up straight. 

   He smirks and points his gun at Pan’s visor. “Ya know, I do gotta say I pity yous. Shackin’ up with the red-headed menace over there didn’t work as planned, did it? Go ahead and say goodbye, since the little shit means so much to yous. See? I ain’t a monster.”

   “You too,” Beelzemon grunts at Holly. “Tell em’ ya love him and all that sentimental mushy crap, I’m startin’ to get bored over here. Go, on. Do it!”

   Holly stares into Pan’s visor. Her eyes flicker between him, and the data stream. Pan’s visor shimmers in response. The Online ripples. 

   “I don’t exactly got all day, kid,” Beelzemon says. “I’m gonna blow his head off in three, two, one—“

   Holly steadies herself with a deep breath. 

   “Go ahead,” she says.

   Beelzemon pauses. 

   He looks at her out of the corner of his eyes. 

   “It’s like I said, go ahead,” she repeats herself. 

   “So, you’re tellin’ me ya don’t care if I blow this guy’s head off?”

    “Look, I didn’t even want him to begin with.” 

   Pan coughs as Beelzemon digs his boot into his engine before kicking off of him. Beelzemon approaches Holly with a sneer. She holds her ground. 

   When he reaches her, he squats and puts the barrel of his gun under her chin. 

   “Let me get this straight: Yous never wanted him?”

   “That’s what I said.”

   “Yous a lyin’ little bitch,” Beelzemon digs his gun into her chin. “I know yous gotta make a deal or whateva. Ya gotta choose each other.”

   “Okay, and? Weren’t you the one who just said anything for power?”

   Beelzemon jabs his gun deeper into Holly’s chin. 

   He clicks the hammer back. 

   “I don’t think so. Yous ain’t manipulating me. I know yous too well.”

   “Then p-pull,” Holly says through grit teeth, his gun bruising her jaw. “Pull it. Pull the t-trigger. Bet you won’t.”

   Beelzemon narrows his eyes at her. 

   The seconds stretch. 

   With what little strength he has left, Pan snaps his fingers. A spark winks off of his thumb. Beelzemon’s hand ignites with fire from Pan’s [Spontaneous Combustion]. He drops his gun and shakes off the flames, his face contorted with rage better befitting a rabid dog. Before he can say anything, Holly shrieks at Pan. 

   “Are you out of your mind!? This has nothing to do with you anymore! Remember what I said about being a means to an end? That was the deal! I told you! That’s all you ever were, now stay outta my way!”

   Pan’s mouth opens with a response he doesn’t have. 

   There’s oil spreading out from his left arm port. His chest engine has caved in. He’s got thin lines of smoke leaking between segments. And there’s soot streaked across his chassis from the explosion. 

   He’s in bad shape. But nothing compares to the hurt on his face.

   Beelzemon glances between the two of them. He retrieves his gun and holsters it, keeping the other at the ready. 

   Holly stares into Pan's visor, maintaining her intensity. 

   Pan drops his head back. His visor dims and flips to Standby. 

   “Sorry, he’s got it down pretty bad for me. Dude can’t take a hint,” She mutters. 

   Beelzemon snatches Holly by the front of her overalls. He lifts her up and goes nose to nose with her. “Yous don’t wanna fuck with me right now. Cause I’ll kill ya, right here and in front of God and everybody. Don’t think I won’t. Got it?”

   “Put me down,” Holly says. 

   “Ya ain’t exactly in the right position to be givin’ orders, toots.”

   “Yeah, well, your breath stinks. So, put me down.”

   Beelzemon smirks at that. He drops Holly.

   “Let me take a stab at this,” She dusts her knees. “Zhuqiaomon promised you power or some kinda crap like that, didn’t he? Y’know you’ve already got that, right? I mean, just take a look at what you did to that guy over there. And he’s supposed to be his son, or whatever.”

   Pan’s breathing shallows. Light consumes him and his silhouette shrinks into Sol Kokuwamon. Beelzemon looks down his nose at Holly.

   He doesn’t say anything.

   “What, did he say he’d make you his ‘partner’ or whatever too? You do realize you don’t gotta play second fiddle to him. He’s not your partner,” Holly looks into his third eye. “That’s me.”

   “And what makes ya think yous can give me what he can’t, huh? What makes yous think you’ve got anything I can’t take for myself? Seems to me like yous overestimatin’ your value.”

   “I mean, it’s your loss. Sure, you can do whatever the old man wants. You can run around and be his little errand boy, or you can tell him to kick rocks. It would be just like you to do this solo,” Holly steps closer. “But I know you’ve seen what having a tamer can do. He’ll give you power, but you’re always gonna be beneath him. Not with me, though. You’d be the boss.”

   Beelzemon doesn’t say anything. 

   Holly continues. “That’s why he wants me dead. You’re playin’ right into his hand, you know that? Again, he Might give you power, but don’t mistake it for a reward. It’s to keep you from getting one over on him. You gotta stay under his foot because he’s afraid of you. And he has every right to be. I mean, just look at you. You’ve cleaned up real nice. You look good.”

   Beelzemon leers his eyes. He doesn’t say anything.

   Silence. 

    “I’m sorry I didn’t go with you that night,” Holly says softly. “I’ve been thinkin’ about it ever since I got here. If I had just gone with you, I wouldn’t have gotten wrapped up in this mess. Y’know that’s when all this started, right? It was that night. If I had just listened to you, I wouldn’t have been forced into partnering up with that guy over there out of convenience.”

   Beelzemon doesn’t say anything. Not at first.

   “Well, ain’t yous just somethin’ else,” He murmurs. 

   There’s oil spreading towards Holly’s feet. 

   “Just give me another chance. Please,” Holly pleads. “You’ve gotta believe me when it comes to Robo Cop over there. You don’t actually think I wanted him, do you? C’mon, I know you know me better than that. Just like I know you don’t wanna be under Zhuqiaomon. C’mon. You and me. Just us. You’ll rule this whole freakin’ place, just you watch. Besides, don’t you want someone who can tell your story once it’s all said and done? Someone you can actually trust?”

   Beelzemon squats and brings himself face to face with Holly once again. 

   He lifts her chin with the barrel of his gun.  

   “Doesn’t sound so bad, huh?” She says. 

   He digs the gun into her chin. 

   Holly maintains eye contact with him.

   “Always knew there was somethin’ I liked about you,” Beelzemon holsters his gun. “You’ve got spunk, I’ll give ya that. Takes more than guts to stand up to the likes of someone as powerful as me. But I don’t know if I believe yous just yet. Go on, cough it up. Fork that thing over and we’ll see how much of this little speech yous actually stand by. Cause I’m the furthest thing from stupid, doll face. I know what that thing can do. And I know what it means.”

   “Wait, you want my Digivice?” Holly reaches back for it. “Sure, have at it.”

   She keeps her eyes on his. 

   They’re fading back to green. 

   Her eyes brighten blue. 

   The hissing of the data stream crackles in her ears. 

   Brushing her hand past her Digivice, Holly wraps her fingers around her screwdriver. 

   Her Crest pulses.

   Holly swings her screwdriver up and stabs Beelzemon’s third eye, driving it down to the hilt. Beelzemon screeches and Holly shoots off towards Pan.

   “You little bitch!” Beelzemon stumbles backwards. “I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill yous!”

   Holly scoops up Pan. He secures his arms around her neck. 

   Beelzemon scrambles for his gun. He points it at Holly as she makes a break for the data stream, his aim unsteady. 

   He hesitates. 

   A gunshot cracks throughout the Great Divide. 

   Holly’s messenger bag takes the hit.

   She disappears into the data stream with Pan.

   Nuts, bolts, and screws clatter to the ground. Her Gameboy drops and the batteries pop out, the screen shattered. There’s a bullet hole in her deck. The cards disintegrate.   

   Beelzemon yanks the screwdriver out of his eye. 

   He flips it around and screams at the melted handle.  

   A woodpecker drills at tree bark. Giggling to itself, a Digi-Fairy springs onto its back and rides it away like a horse jockey. 

   The air grows thin. 

   Rustling leaves shift amongst the trees. 

    Holly stumbles out of a flash of pink data light. She trips over herself, twisting midfall to land on her back so she doesn’t hurt Pan. Her back hits the ground with a dull thud. 

   Startled birds leave their nests. A curious Digi-Lizard peeks out from behind a branch. 

   The dirt is cool against her skin. She’s dizzy from the subsiding adrenaline rush. And she’s trying to catch her breath, clutching Pan like her arms have been welded to him.

   “I didn’t mean it,” Holly starts weeping. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it. It was the only way, I swear.”

   Pan hugs Holly’s neck tightly before relaxing. His metal softens. Light wraps around him. He shrinks down to Metal Koromon, a Baby level Digimon no bigger than a halved honeydew. 

   Holly sits up and holds him close. 

   “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” She repeats.

   He softly chirps and beeps. 

   “Powering down,” He squeaks. 

   His electronic blue eyes dim.

   An acorn bonks Holly on the head. 

   She winces and holds Pan tighter, expecting Beelzemon to dig his gun into her chin once again. Nothing happens. She sighs with relief.

   A scream pierces the air. And it probably would have scared her, if not for sounding like a frog gargling glue. Holly looks up and sees a wildly flailing Gekomon with choir robes falling out of the sky. He hits the dirt ten feet away from her.

   Thud.  

   With a groan, the Gekomon wobbles up to its feet. 

   Holly’s already on hers. She quickly surveys him.

   It looks like his horn exploded, brass curling backwards. 

   The Gekomon pats himself down. Then he finds Holly, seemingly confused for a moment, before opening up with a smile. He approaches her.

   “Back off,” She takes two steps back. “Don’t come any closer. You stay right there. I’m freakin’ crazy, alright? You don’t wanna know what I’m capable of right now.”

   “I’m thsorry. I mean no harm.”

   Holly keeps her eyes trained on the Gekomon. Slowly and steadily, she sets her messenger bag down. All that remains is the shoulder strap and dangling, burnt rags. With her attention still on the Gekomon, she fluffs it up before resting Pan on top. Then she snatches a nearby rock. It’s as big as a baseball. Blunt, and not as heavy as she’d like. But it’ll do. 

   She’s never seen herself as much of a fighter. Nor can she copy the moves she’s seen from watching WWE tournaments. But she’s convinced there’s nothing in the Digital World more dangerous than her right now. 

   Holly squares off against the Gekomon like a fox protecting its den from a badger. 

   Her eyes are burning blue.

   “You stheem... kinda mad. Maybe you’re tired? Or hungry, I think. Humanths do like food. Oh! Could you be thirsty?” The Gekomon tries to smile again. “Perhapth if you set that down, you could come with me. You could join our thcelebration! We have other humanths just like you, along with their Digimon. They’ve been really enjoying themsthelves! Whaddya say?”

   The blue in her eyes fades as they widen. 

   She tries to speak at first, but can’t. 

   Her heart is hammering. She can’t hear herself think. 

   It’s not them. 

   It’s not them. 

   It’s not them. 

   Everything feels like it’s going cold for her. 

   But she has to ask. 

   “See one of them with a pair of goggles? There’s another who always wears a shirt with a broken heart on it. Seen her?”

   “Yep, yep, yep! That would be them! There are othersth, too. I’d be happy to take you to them. And if you attend our thcelebration, we have guest rooms available. Free of charge!”

   Holly scoops Pan back up, cradling him in what remains of her bag. 

   She watches the Gekomon wearily. 

   “Can I take that as a yesth?”

   Holly knits her brows.

   “Forget you saw me,” She holds Pan closer. “Don’t try me. If you say anything, or if you even hint at seeing somethin’ out of the normal, I’ll come back and nuke this whole place off the map. You’ve got my word on that, got it?”

   The Gekomon backs away slowly. “Your thsecret is thsafe with me.”

   Holly glares at the Gekomon for as long as she thinks it takes for her message to sink in. 

   Then she slips away into the forest.

   The brush is thick. A sharp branch jutting from a berry bush catches her leg. Right calf muscle. Her jeans tear and blood beads along the cut. 

   She doesn’t care. Barely even felt it. 

   If that Gekomon breathes a word about her, once Pan’s back to Solar Andromon, she’ll ask him to go Nuclear and follow up on her word.  

   Holly presses a kiss against the top of his head. 

   She almost lost him to Machinedramon. And now Beelzemon.

   She’s not going to lose him to her own mistakes. 

   Holly steps over some shrubs, lifts a tree branch, and stumbles into a clearing. 

   There’s rays of sunshine beaming down on a fallen, hollow oak tree. 

   The grass is soft, ankle high. It’s dappled with purple, white, and orange flowers. 

   Ghostly blue and ethereal, a lone butterfly flutters along the meadow. 

   Holly stows herself and Pan away in the hollow oak. 

   The bark is damp. Soft. And it smells of mildew in a way that reminds her of pavement after it rains. There’s a patch of toadstool mushrooms a few feet away. Gentle light glows from beneath their caps. 

   Holly buries her face into Pan and sobs. 

   It’s funny, when you think about it. 

   They finally made it to Ebonwumon’s forest.

   And for the first time since coming here, all she wants to do is to go home and see her Mom. To wake up in her room. Have a Vanilla Coke. Sit in Rush at 2am and play her Gameboy. Min max her Metal deck for the hundredth time. 

   Holly tucks Pan down the front of her overalls, his little face peeking out and resting against her chest. He’s still offline. She continues to sob. When she tries to breathe through her nose, she’s met with a harsh clog that triggers a rapidly approaching headache. It’s like she just snorted chlorine and got it stuck.

   It hurts. 

   Everything hurts.

   And it’s only getting worse. 

   Yet she can’t stop crying.

   All she wants is to take Pan home with her. But she doesn’t know how. 

   The ethereal butterfly lands on the face of a flower. Its wings unfold as it tastes the nectar, revealing the pattern of a raised fist. 

Chapter two: Some Assembly Required

   Yamaki rests his forehead against the palm of his hand. There’s sunlight creeping in through his blinds. Another all nighter. Still no success. 

   He stifles a yawn, rubbing his face. It’s rough from his five o’ clock shadow. 

   He glances over at his phone. 

   Nothing.

   A smirk follows. So, she’s still punishing him. 

   “It’s going to take more than that,” He says to himself. Then he sets his phone face down and returns to work. 

   The hours stretch.

   Fingers clicking against a keyboard. The sipping of cold, stale coffee. Cigarette smoke and loose ashes. He gave up on smoking outside.

   A bottle of gin. Half empty. He lost that fight, too. 

   But he’s not going to lose this one. Getting those kids home is all that matters.

   His doorbell rings. Ding dong. Yamaki knits his brows. He flips his phone over and checks the time, 2pm. Not going to answer that. With a roll of his eyes, he resumes his work.

   Ding dong. A knock follows. 

   It’s not her. Showing up like this isn’t Riley’s style. 

   Another knock. Ding dong. 

   With a sigh, Yamaki drags himself out of his office chair. 

   He answers the door with a squint. It’s bright without his sunglasses. 

   There’s a young woman in a dusky tan uniform in front of him. Brown hair down to the middle of her back, kind face, and dark eyes. Thin as a mousy substitute teacher. According to her badge, her name is Miracle. There's a pin of a can of cool whip beside it.

   It’s mildly amusing, at best. 

   Miracle adjusts the pair of boxes in her arms. There’s a larger one seated on the floor beside her.  

   “What do you want?” Yamaki grunts. 

   “Oh! Good morni— I mean, afternoon! Are you Mr. Mitsuo?”

   “I didn’t order anything,” He says.

   “But you are Mr. Mistsuo, right? I’m sorry, I promise I’ll make this quick.”

   “Yes, I’m Mr. Mitsuo. Are we finished here?”

   “Um, almost. I’m sorry, today’s my first day and you’re only my second delivery, I just want to make sure I’m doing this right. I’ll be out of your hair soon,” She tries to hand him the boxes and hesitates. “Would you like me to set them on the big one instead?”

   “First day, huh,” He says. 

   “Yup. Just trying to make ends meet, y’know?”

   Yamaki rubs his face. Then he leans forward and reads the packaging label. 

   A smirk follows. No return address. 

   “I know what this is about,” He says. “You can hand them here.”

   She hands him the boxes. He brings them inside and can hear her scooching the larger one closer to the door. Must have been heavy to carry up here, considering it’s weighted down by clothes and who knows what else of his. 

   “Have a nice day!” Miracle says cheerfully. 

   Yamaki hoists up the other package and heads inside. 

   “Shit,” He mutters to himself.

    After setting the box down, he turns back around and opens the door. 

   “Wait,” He says. “Here. And be careful out there. It isn’t safe.”

   Yamaki walks up to Miracle, digs a hand in his pocket, and gives her a fist full of cash. 

   “It’s okay, really! We’re not supposed to accept tips, and—“ Miracle looks down at the money, flips through a few bills, and her eyes widen. “Oh, my gosh. Are you sure?! This is too much, I— Wow! Are you sure, you’re sure? I don’t mean to sound ungrateful or anything, I just— Stuff like this doesn’t happen to people like me. Thank you so much, I don’t know what else to say. Thank you!”

   “Don’t mention it,” Yamaki says. 

   He heads back into his apartment and locks the door. 

   A genuine smile crosses his face. 

   Probably should have counted that. It doesn’t matter. 

   He’ll make it back soon enough. 

   His office chair creaks as he sits back down. 

   Rendering is still sitting at ninety nine percent. Figures. 

   If it’s like any of the others, this one will also crash. 

   Yamaki’s phone begins to ring, vibrations rattling his desk.

   His heart skips a beat. He snatches his phone up and frowns. 

   “Janyu Wong,” Yamaki murmurs. 

   Where does he know that name from?

   The phone call goes to voicemail. 

   Wait. Janyu Wong— The monster maker? Henry Wong’s father?

   Yamaki smirks. 

   Makes sense, after all. Of course Jonyu would call him.

   Who else is going to save his son? The government?

   Yamaki chuckles at his own quip. 

   He returns Mr. Wong’s call and schedules a time for them to meet in person.

   Following the accident on stage, another Gekomon exploded and caught the rafters on fire. His funeral will be held following the Maestro's at 4:30pm. Please see a Gekomon for more details.  

   Gekomon in blue maintenance uniforms sweep up the debris across the stage. Their director, a Gekomon with an officers cap, and who is not actually their official director (he's new please be nice), squeezes around the crowd of Digimon filing out towards the exit. He runs up to the stage and trips on a roll in the red carpet. His face meets the ground.

   The unofficial director groans.

   A Gekomon percussionist steps forward.

   Burr burr burrrr

   Bur Burr Burr—

   “I’m not dead, thstupid!” The unofficial director says.

   “Oh, thsorry.”

   Leaving the Gekomon to their clean up duties, Leomon, Jeri, and Terriermon talk amongst themselves.

   “Y’know, I don’t know what I was expecting, but it sure wasn’t that,” Terriermon says. 

   Jeri giggles. “I know, right? Wasn’t it amazing!”

   “I don’t know if ‘amazing’ is the word I’d have used for whatever that was,” Terriermon says. 

   “Maybe you’re right. How about ‘thrilling’ or ‘sensational’?” 

   “It could have been that if they gave everyone free ear plugs.” 

   “You’re so mean, Terriermon,” Jeri giggles and hugs him. “Never stop being so funny, okay?”

   Terriermon smiles and pretends to fidget. “You don’t gotta lay it on so thick, sheesh.”

   Once he’s certain Jeri isn’t looking, Leomon scowls at Terriermon.

   And Terriermon sticks his tongue out at Leomon. 

   The Digi-Fairies seated on Jeri’s shoulders clap and laugh.

   As they leave the outdoor auditorium, a black streak on the ground races towards them. It sinks into Leomon’s shadow. The Digi-Fairies make themselves scarce and fly away. 

   “You’re leaving already?” Jeri frowns. 

   Leomon looks over his shoulder and watches Renamon form out of his shadow. 

   “How are the others?” Leomon asks.

   “They’re doing well,” Renamon says. 

   “Did I just hear Renamon?” Jeri says. “Oh, it is! Hi, Renamon!”

   “And hello to you as well,” Renamon bows her head. 

   Terriermon smiles weakly at Renamon. With the softening of her eyes, Renamon bows her head towards Terriermon.

   She returns to Leomon. “How are you?”

   Leomon draws an invisible line between Renamon and Terriermon with his eyes. 

   Then he crosses his arms. 

   Renamon hums with amusement. “Jealous?”

   “No,” Leomon says sternly. Then he leans down to Renamon and whispers, “Okay. Maybe a little bit.”

   Renamon chuckles. 

   No longer seeing Renamon as a threat, the Digi-Fairies return. 

   One perches back onto Jeri’s shoulder. The other lands on Renamon's head. 

   “Shoo,” Renamon tries to gently shuffle it away. 

   It bites her finger and doesn’t let go. 

   Renamon brings her paw down and watches it gnaw on her.

   “What curious little creatures you are,” Renamon says.

   She rests her hands at her sides, the Digi-Fairy still trying to wear her finger down. 

   “They can be feisty like that sometimes,” Jeri giggles. “Oh! Was it Rika who sent you?”

   “Yes. She wanted me to check on you,” Renamon says. 

   “Does she really like me that much?”

   “Yes,” Renamon says.

   “I think it’s really sweet she sent you to check on me. But I’m okay, I promise! I can take care of myself. Now that I have Leomon, nobody has to worry about me anymore,” Jeri hugs Terriermon tighter and looks down. “I don’t have to be a burden anymore.”

   “You’re not a burden,” Renamon says.

   “My sentiments exactly,” Leomon interjects. “There isn’t a soul alive who wouldn’t benefit from having you in their lives.”

   Terriermon tilts his head back and looks at Jeri. “He sure is right about that. I mean, I was having a really crappy day until I saw you.”

   “R-Really?” Jeri says.

   “Momentai, Jeri,” Terriermon says softly. “Don’t be sad. Just take a look around you. Friends are supposed to be there for each other. It’s what we’re meant to do.”

   “Thanks, you guys,” Jeri sniffles. “I don’t think I’ve ever had friends like this before.”

   Terriermon giggles and whispers to Jeri. “Neither has Leomon.”

   “I heard that,” Leomon says. 

   Jeri presses her lips together and looks at Renamon. 

   Renamon briefly smiles. She bows her head and dematerializes out of sight. 

   “Whaaaaat? No, you didn’t,” Terriermon says. 

   “Yes, I did. Or would you care to repeat it for everyone?”

   “What, that you’ve got dingleberries in your mane?”

    Jeri almost drops Terriermon, her cheeks ballooning from holding in her laughter. 

   Leomon looks down at Terriermon like a scorned god. 

   “I said: Would you care to repeat that?”

   “Nope! Once is good enough for me,” Terriermon says. 

   Leomon leers his eyes. A snort follows. 

   “It’s time we join the others. Come with me,” Leomon leads the way forward. Once he’s ahead of everyone, he starts muttering to himself and grooming his mane. “Dingleberries, I’ll show you dingleberries.”

    Finding her back against a tree once again, Rika tosses her stone up and down. The occasional sigh follows. Silent as only a panther can be when stalking prey, Renamon leaps into the tree. She finds a branch to perch on and watches Rika. 

   While it’s not unlike Rika to withdraw from the group, once she’s committed to an action, she rarely backs down. 

   Rika said she’d join the boys and she didn’t. 

   Renamon momentarily closes her eyes. 

   There’s still much to learn about and from her Tamer. 

   “How is she?” Rika asks. 

   “You know I’m here?” 

   “We wouldn’t be talking if I didn’t, would we?” Rika scoffs.

   Rika catches the stone and closes her fingers around it. 

   “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

   “It’s alright,” Renamon hops down beside Rika. “How did you know?”

   “I don’t know. I could just feel it or something, I guess.”

   Renamon hums with acknowledgement. 

   Rika looks down at the ground. She rubs the worry stone. 

   “Jeri is doing well. She’s fond of you,” Renamon’s voice softens. “Why did you send me away?”

   “You just answered it,” Rika says.

   “No, I did not.”

   Rika squeezes the stone. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

   “Will you come to me when you do?”

   Silence. 

   “I can’t make you any promises, but… I’ll try. Okay?”

   “Of course. Thank you,” Renamon steps closer. She reaches a hand towards her and—

   Rika’s face screws up like a dishrag being rung.

   “What the— What even is that? Is that a Digi-Fairy?”

   Renamon sighs. 

   The Digi-Fairy is still there. Just gnawing away at her like a teething ring. 

   It pauses momentarily. 

   Then it starts chewing faster. 

   “Determined little pest, isn’t it,” Renamon remarks. 

   “I’ll say. What did you do to piss it off? Replace its eye drops with hot sauce?”

   “I exist.”

   Rika holds up a hand in refusal to laugh. “Whatever. Can’t you just get rid of it or something?”

   “It’s as I said. It’s determined.”

   “We are not bringing that thing home.”

   “Would it not look good in your room?”

   Rika gives Renamon a wry smile. “You’re full of them today. Any reason, or…?”

   “I would like to see you laugh,” Renamon says. 

   “Haha,” Rika mocks. “Very funny. There. Are you happy now?”

   Renamon looks Rika in the eyes. 

   Intense. Focused. She’s daring Rika to look away.

   Because she knows she won’t. Not when it’s a challenge.  

   “What are you even doing?” Rika huffs.  

   “This,” Renamon flicks the Digi-Fairy off her finger. It blathers with angry gibberish as it’s sent shooting away. 

   Pew!

   “Renamon!” Rika squawks. 

   “Yes? What is it?”

   Rika covers her face and laughs. Renamon chuckles with her. 

   “Thanks for that. I guess I needed it more than I thought,” Rika says. 

   “Of course,” A pause. “There’s something else I’d like to do.”

   “I don’t think you’re going to top that,” Rika says.

   “Do you mind?”

   “Just get it over with,” Rika rolls her eyes. 

   Her heart stops when Renamon touches her face. 

   “You cannot outrun your shadow, Rika. It is always with you. In the dark, and in the light,” Renamon says. “As am I.”

   Rika faces the ground.

   She’s starting to tremble. 

   “T-There’s something I want to do. B-But I d-don’t know how.”

   “What is it?”

   Rika shakes her head. 

   “It’s alright. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

   “Yes, there is.”

   “Not when I’m here.”

   Rika squeezes her eyes shut. They’re starting to water. 

   A tear soaks into Renamon’s fur.  

   “Oh, Rika,” Renamon coos. “I’ve never seen you weep before. Why?”

   “Because I’m scared.”

   “Of what?”

   No response.

   A sob chokes Rika’s throat shut. 

   She smashes her lips together in an attempt to mask it. 

   “Rika,” Renamon says sternly. “I don’t like this. Tell me what’s—“

   Rika launches forward and throws her arms around Renamon. Shock punches a gasp out of Renamon. Rika buries her face into her chest fluff and bursts into tears. 

   Renamon’s hands hover at Rika’s waist, unsure of how to respond. Her paws are shaking. Her heart is hammering. And she wonders if she’s watching her life through the lens of another. 

   The past taps her on the shoulder. 

   Can data really even have feelings?

   This is ridiculous. You’d better Digivolve soon, Renamon. 

   I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.

   The future holds her around the middle and weeps. 

   Renamon gazes down and remembers why the path ahead is worth fighting for. 

   Rika’s body molded to hers for the first time. The tears dampening her chest. Those small fists gripping the fur on her back. And the smell of Rika’s hair, something she’s only ever caught on the wind. 

   Renamon sighs and it’s like she’s finally home after a long, long journey. She wraps her arms around Rika and holds her tight. Seconds drift into minutes. She can’t make out what Rika is saying. Not through her broken babbles. But she closes her eyes as the pain of what she does manage to hear is far too great. 

   No, no, no. 

   I’m scared of losing you. I’m so sorry. 

   Please don’t go, Renamon. I don’t want to push you away. 

   I never did. 

   “Shh,” Renamon pulls Rika closer. “You cannot outrun your shadow. Not when I love you as much as I do.”

   Kazu looks up at the injured Metal Greymon, his eyes struck with awe. He touches its skin and the Metal Greymon rumbles.

   “Don’t touch it!” Kenta panics. “What if it tries to eat us?”

   “Not gonna happen, dude. Chill out. It’d be spending more energy than it’d get from eating us,” Kazu pats the Metal Greymon. 

   Another rumble. Kazu pulls his hand back as light wraps around the Metal Greymon. It shrinks from the loss of its armor. With a shattering of the data light, a simple Greymon coated in scars is revealed. 

   It’s not breathing any easier. 

   Kazu returns his hand and strokes its skin. 

   “How is it doing?” Henry asks, strolling up to them with Takato by his side. 

   “Could be doing worse. But at least it’s warm. I mean, you just gotta come here and listen. It’ll tell you what you need to know,” Kazu puts his ear against the Greymon’s hide. “Breathing’s about as shallow as online dating. I don’t know how long it’s got left.”

   “Heya, guys?” Takato joins Kazu in petting the Greymon. “This has never happened to Guilmon before. And I don’t think it’s happened to Renamon, or Terriermon.”

   “You’re right. It hasn’t,” Henry says. “De-Digivolving usually heals their wounds. This is concerning, you guys. I don’t like this. Why isn’t it healing?”

   “Not all wounds can be healed by data alone. The Digimon before you is a warrior,” Leomon says from behind them. “And this one here has more than their fair share of battle experience.”

   Jeri trots up beside Leomon, holding Terriermon like a stuffed animal. Henry tries to give him an apologetic smile. 

   Terriermon looks away. 

   Henry’s stomach drops. With a frown, he looks to Jeri for an answer. She comforts him with a knowing smile. He mouths the words thank you. Jeri nods. She rests her chin on the top of Terriermon’s head. 

   “You know all that just by looking?” Kazu asks. “Pretty snazzy, Leomon. Not gonna lie.”

   Leomon approaches the Greymon. “When you’ve lived as long as this one and I have, you come to realize you know less and less as the years go by.”

   “What does he mean by that?” Takato asks Henry. 

   “He means the more you learn, the less you know. My sensei often says the same thing.”

   “That doesn’t make any sense,” Kenta says.

   Kazu laughs. “Looks like Kenta’s still benched at the bottom of the bell curve.”

   Kenta frowns. Takato leans into him and whispers, “Hey, don’t feel bad. I don’t get it either.”

   “Thanks, Takato,” Kenta murmurs. 

   Leomon pats the Greymon and chuckles. “Enough of this. Aries, old friend. It is good to see you.”

   Aries’ eye swirls open. A slow blink follows.

   “And here I was hoping you would have ran them off for me. I want my peace, Leomon. I did not come to this place to be pestered by children,” Aries rumbles. 

   Their voice is sharp and condescending, like an elder with too much wisdom and not enough compassion. It’s rough too, their vocal chords akin to shredded harp strings and gravel. In a stark contrast, despite the way they spit their words, there’s a touch of softness to their voice. And it’s distinctly feminine. 

   “Wait, it’s a girl?!” Kazu blurts out.

   Without moving a muscle, Aries glares at Kazu. 

   “Wait, wait, wait!” Kazu waves his hands in front of him. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I mean, c’mon now! I love girls—Women! Yeah, women! I love women. They’re totally rad, right guys?”

   Silence. 

   Jeri adjusts Terriermon and slips her sock puppet on. “Kazu is a pandering panda. Panda! Pandering panda!”

   “Wait, who said anything about pandering? I was just being honest, really! Women are great, you guys. They’re the only reason why we’re here, after all.”

   Leomon crosses his arms. “You’re trying too hard.”

   “Burn,” Kenta says. 

   “What? I can’t establish my love for women in front of you guys? Wow. Didn’t know I was friends with a bunch of misogynists,” Kazu says. 

   Henry rolls his eyes. Jeri nudges Terriermon with a smile. Terriermon glances over to Henry. His ears droop and he chooses to not throw in a quip.

   Jeri hugs him tighter. “It’s okay.”

   Terriermon doesn’t respond. 

   Aries takes her time studying each of the children and surrounding Digimon.

   “You never change,” Aries snorts at Leomon. 

   Leomon chuckles and pats Aries once again. Then he roams his eyes across her body, remembering old scars and wondering about the new ones.

   The fresher wounds concern him. “What happened to you, old friend?”

   “Not here,” Aries says. “For now the ugliness you see must tell the story.”

   “You’re not ugly. I think you’re very pretty,” Guilmon says.

   A fist squeezes Takato’s heart. 

   “Guilmon?! Where are you, buddy?” Takato asks. 

   Plodding around from the other side of Aries, Guilmon cocks his head to the side at Takato. “Silly Takato-mon. I was right over here.”

   Takato races up to him and hugs his neck. 

   He chuckles anxiously and addresses Aries, trying to tug Guilmon away. 

   “Sorry, he’s still learning,” Takato says.

   Aries watches the two of them. 

   “Even with all these scars?” Aries asks Guilmon.

   “Yep,” Guilmon says. “You said they tell stories?”

   “They do.”

   “I think the best stories have lots of pictures and pretty colors like you do.”

   “C’mon, Guilmon. You’ve gotta step up your game. She’s not just pretty, she’s drop dead gorgeous,” Kazu says. “I mean, just look at her! Guys like us go to war over women like her. She’s a real Helen of Troy, y’know?”

   “Again, you’re trying too hard,” Leomon says. 

   Guilmon wiggles free from Takato and nuzzles Aries.

   Scrambling to grab him by the tail and pull him away, Takato stops.

   He backs away slowly. 

   Aries rumbles like an old crocodile and nuzzles Guilmon back. 

   “It’s going to be okay,” Guilmon says. “You’ll see. I promise.”

   “Yes. You’re correct. After tonight, I will have what I came here for,” Aries says. 

   Leomon smiles. “You never change.”

   Aries ignores him. “Go on and tell me which one is yours.”

   Jeri sets Terriermon down. After adjusting his flower crown, she shuffles over to Leomon and smiles at the ground. 

   “Um, it’s nice to meet you, Miss Aries,” Jeri does a curtsy. “My name is Jeri, and your good friend Leomon is my partner.”

   Aries hums. She looks at Kazu and says, “Boy, you would do well to learn from this one.”

   Kazu salutes Aries. “Yes, ma’m!”

   Everyone groans.

   “Leomon has been my friend for a long, long time,” Aries says. “It’s good to see him with a kind heart such as yours.”

   “Thank you, Miss Aries,” Jeri says. “Would it be okay if I asked how you two met?”

   Leomon barks a laugh. “Perhaps that’s a story for another day.”

   Aries chuckles like distant thunder. Leomon rolls his eyes in response.

   Silence.

   “… Fine. She defeated me in battle. Fair and square,” Leomon says. 

   “Whoa! Hold on a minute, let me get this straight: Aries beat you, Leomon? Daaaaang. She really is the toughest of the tough!” Kazu says. 

   Aries sighs through her nostrils. “It’s time we went our separate ways, Leomon. I’ve earned my right to rest. Take these children and leave me be. Though it has been good to see you, however brief.”

   “And it has been good to see you, old friend. May the next time we meet have fewer years between them.”

   Aries rests her eyes. 

   She doesn’t respond.

   Leomon closes his eyes for a moment. Then he begins to usher the children and their Digimon towards the Market. On the way he takes a quick head count.

   Leomon groans. 

   Kazu is missing.

   “Children these days,” Leomon mutters. 

   Weaving between Gekomon and dashing behind market stalls, Kazu tries to draw as little attention to himself as possible. 

   He looks over his shoulder. Only when he’s certain no one is looking does he tiptoe towards Aries. He frowns to himself as he looks over her scars, wounds, and busted scabs. Some of them are weeping. There’s patches of stuck shed on her back. From beneath her belly, he can see specks of data squeezing free and fading away.

   “I can smell you, boy. Leave.”

   “Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Kazu ghosts his hand over one of her scars. “You’re way worse off than you’re letting on, aren’t you?”

   “Pretentious child,” Aries hisses. “Leave.”

   “Or, what? You’re gonna make me? Sorry, gorgeous. Hate to break it to you like this, but you and I both know you don’t have—“

   Aries lifts her heavy head like a kaiju emerging from the ocean. 

   Her lips peel back with a growl.

   “Leave,” She says. “Now.”

   Kazu walks backwards slowly, hands up at his chest. 

   He tries to smile reassuringly. “Just uh, let me know if I can bring you anything.”

   Aries rumbles, low and deep. Then she rests her head in the grass and closes her eyes. 

   Kazu knit his brows together. With the balling of his fists, he takes a step towards Aries and Leomon gently grabs his forearm. 

   “Your want to help her cannot take the place of what she needs now,” Leomon says. “Respect her wishes.”

   “You knew?” Kazu asks. 

   “I had my suspicions. But I know now.”

   Kazu tries to wretch his arm free. Leomon tightens his grip. 

   “Stop it. This is unbecoming of you,” Leomon says. 

   Kazu doesn’t say anything. He looks at the ground, lip quivering.  

   “She is not the one,” Leomon says softly. “It’s time for us to leave. Come with me.”

   Leomon walks Kazu away. He moves his hand up to Kazu’s shoulder, and gives him a comforting squeeze. “Balance is key in everything. Never forget that.”

   Kazu doesn’t respond. 

   Once they’ve cleared some distance, Leomon looks over his shoulder at Aries. He bows his head, smiles wistfully, and accepts her wishes.

   May we meet again, old friend. And may your data always remain your own.

   Sensing they’re gone and out of sight, Aries picks herself up with what strength she has left. Data scatters from her stomach like moths surprised by the opening of a wardrobe. 

   Aries leaves nothing behind other than her shape in the grass. 

   With Leomon having pardoned himself to wrangle Kazu in, Henry finds himself tuning Takato out in favor of his thoughts. 

   This is ridiculous. 

   Why did Terriermon ignore him earlier? What did he tell Renamon when she found him? And why did he go to Jeri and Leomon?

   Henry can feel his blood starting to boil. 

   He really is just like Suzie. Once he’s had enough on his own terms, or if he doesn’t get his way, he stonewalls. No understanding, no compromise, nothing. There’s only Terriermon and Suzie’s way.  

   And somehow I’m seen as the villain?

   Henry exhales through his nostrils.

   No, no, he shouldn’t think like that. Anger isn’t the solution to this. 

   He needs to be more understanding. He needs to be better. 

   In the wise words of his sensei, he has to be stronger than his excuses. 

   What the others need matters more than himself. And since he put himself in the role of being everyone’s older brother, he needs to act like it. 

   What he has going on between home and school should be kept to himself. He needs to put that away for the time being. There are things far more important right now than what’s been plaguing his mind. He needs to be stronger than his excuses. 

   He has to do better. 

   “Heya, Henry? Did you catch all of that?” Takato rubs the back of his neck. “You’re starting to look a little empty behind the eyes there. You okay?”

   “Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t mean to drift off like that. Can you say it again?”

   “Actually? I think I just started talking to help take your mind off of things. And I kinda went off the rails there at the end with wondering how my Mom’s gonna react when I bring home Guilmon and a Digi-Fairy.”

   “Wait, you’re taking one home with us?”

   “I’m still thinking about it. I don’t know, maybe?”

   “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

   “I know,” Takato laments. “But Guilmon’s really taken a liking to her. See?”

   Takato points to Guilmon, who’s laying on his back at the center of the food court and giggling. The Digi-Fairy, now known as Little Yellow (courtesy of Guilmon), is stuffing acorns in his nostrils. 

   They both celebrate when he blows them out like cannon balls. 

   “Yahoo!” Guilmon shouts.

   Little Yellow throws her arms up and peeps in gibberish.  

   “How am I supposed to say no to that?” Takato asks. 

   “I don’t think I’m qualified to answer that,” Henry says. 

   They proceed to laugh together, only coming to a halt when a previously reclusive Terriermon shuffles up to Guilmon. 

   He spreads his arms out and falls face first onto Guilmon’s belly. 

   Flower petals drift off of the crown Jeri gave him. Little Yellow collects them and stuffs them into her mouth until her cheeks are plump. 

   “Terriermon, would you like to play?” Guilmon asks.

   Terriermon mumbles in response. 

   “Okay,” Guilmon picks him up like a baby and pretends he’s an airplane. 

   “Weeee. Bang, bang, pew, and Bunny Blast, or whatever.”

   “Digi-Modify! Terriermon used Bunny blast!” Guilmon steers Terriermon around. “Wahoo!”

   Little Yellow hops around grabbing flower petals as they fall. 

   “I need to talk to him,” Henry says. 

   “Maybe try to see things from his angle? Kinda like, if you were Terriermon right now, what would you want to hear?”

   “I really don’t want to answer that.”

   Takato winces. “Let me follow it up by saying maybe the answer is somewhere between you two?”

   “You’re probably right,” Henry sighs. “Is it bad that I just want to sweep this all under the rug and call it a day?”

   “Yeah, kinda,” Takato says.

   Another sigh from Henry. “When you’re right, you’re right. Well, here goes nothing.”

   “Hey, man. You’ve got this,” Takato pats him on the back. “Go get em’, tiger!”

   Henry lifts a brow at Takato. 

   Takato smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m trying.”

   Henry responds with a thankful look on his face before heading over to Guilmon, Terriermon, and Little Yellow. 

   “Hey, Terriermon?” Henry scoots into their playtime. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

   “Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of Guilmon,” Terriermon says, making a point of refusing to look at him.

   “Would you like to play with us, Henry?” Guilmon asks. “But I think I’d need to be Growlmon to make you an airplane, and I’m not sure if I can Digivolve right now. I’m sorry.”

   “Thanks, but I’m going to have to pass on that for now,” Henry says. 

   “Awww, okay. I understand,” Guilmon says. 

   “You don’t wanna play with him anyways,” Terriermon wiggles free from Guilmon’s grasp and plops onto his belly. “He’ll just soak up all of our fun like an anti party sponge.”

   Henry takes a deep breath and releases it slowly.

   Little Yellow zips over to an acorn, stuffs it in Guilmon’s nose, and points at Henry like a pirate captain. She peeps with commanding gibberish. 

   “But Henry’s our friend,” Guilmon says. 

   “Speak for yourself,” Terriermon mutters. 

   Henry holds his tongue. 

   Little Yellow scowls. She stomps her foot, zooms off to find a leaf, and returns to Guilmon’s empty nostril. With a mischievous giggle, she tickles his nose. 

   “Achoo!” Guilmon sneezes and the acorn bonks Henry on the arm.

   “That’s snot very nice,” Terriermon giggles. 

   Little Yellow puts her hands on her hips and grins at Terriermon. 

   Henry cleans his arm. 

   “I’m sorry,” Guilmon says. 

   “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you,” Henry says. 

   “Yeah, Guilmon. Get with the program. He’s not mad at you, he’s mad at me,” Terriermon says. “If you’re gonna say something Henry, you should just come out and say it already.”

   “I’m sorry,” Henry blurts out. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

   Terriermon slowly turns to look at Henry. 

   Henry smiles helplessly. “Um, Momentai?”

   “If you actually listened to me for once you’d know that’s not what it means,” Terriermon mutters. 

   Henry closes his eyes and brings in a deep breath. Then he counts down from ten and exhales through his nostrils. “I’m going to head back to Takato now. I’ll be with him if you need anything.”

   “Why? I thought you wanted to talk?”

   Henry blinks his eyes open. He looks down and sees Terriermon looking up at him. 

   “You guys can talk here, it’s okay. Little Yellow and I can find somewhere else to play,” Guilmon gasps and quickly trots away towards Takato. “Maybe Takato-Mon can hold me up, and I can be the airplane this time!”

   Little Yellow chases after him, glittering gold streaming behind her. 

   “Between the acorns up his nose and the fairy dust he’s probably snorted, whaddya think the odds of Guilmon becoming a Digi-Fairy are?” Terriermon asks. 

   “Good question. Maybe it’s his Mega form.”

   “Knowing Guilmon? I think he stands a pretty good chance at that,” Terriermon says. 

   Henry smiles warmly before a chill packs ice between his ribs. 

   And no amount of breathing exercises feel like they can save him now. 

   “I thought if I got Beardie to spill the beans on Zhuqiaomon, you’d stop being such a pimple on everyone’s butt all the time,” Terriermon says. “I was only trying to help. I’m not out to get you, Henry. I promise.”

   “I didn’t see it that way at the time, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. There’s just… I’ve just got so much on my plate right now. I took you for granted and I shouldn’t have done that. The stress has just been eating me from the inside out and I don’t know what else to do.”

   “It’s still not an excuse to turn me into your punching bag,” Terriermon mumbles. 

   Henry’s heartbeat echoes in his ears. 

   He blinks a few times to rid himself of his vision briefly tunneling. 

   “You're right,” Henry says. “I don’t know what else to do. Can you help me meet you in the middle on this?”

   “On what? Being a good person?”

   Henry shakily exhales. 

   As politely as his sensei once taught him, he asks, “What can I do?”

   “Oh, I don’t know,” Terriermon pretends to clean his ear and flick out wax. “Some respect would be nice. Do you have any of that, Henry? Or are you fresh out?”

   “That’s what I’m trying to give you now.”

   “Have you ever sat down and thought maybe respect isn’t something you have to ‘try’ to give? Bet you wouldn’t talk to Leomon the way you talk to me.”

   Henry’s blood spikes. 

   “That’s because Leomon doesn’t act like a child,” Henry snaps. “All you seem to do is have fun at my expense, hassle me like you are now, and I’m tired of it. I want it to stop.”

   “Maybe I wouldn’t act like a child if you didn’t treat me like one,” Terriermon snaps back. 

   Henry glares down his nose at him. 

   Terriermon looks away from Henry.

   “Good job, Henry. Thanks for proving my point there.”

   “I need to leave. I can’t do this with you right now,” Henry storms off. 

   “Woooow. Would you take a look at who’s acting like Suzie now,” Terriermon says. “Next time you wanna talk, do me a favor and go to a mirror where you can trade places with the guy behind it.”

   Henry stops, looks up at Earth in the sky, and blows out an exhale that rattles his lips. He puts his hands together at his chest like he’s praying and counts down from ten. 

   Then Henry turns around. “Can we just drop this for now, please?”

   Terriermon leers his eyes at Henry. He doesn’t say anything, not at first. 

   “Fine by me,” Terriermon says. 

   Relief floods Henry like his back hitting a bed after a long day. He approaches Terriermon and gestures for him to hop into his arms. 

   “I’ve got two legs, sheesh. It’s not like I’m crippled or something,” Terriermon says. “Just because I’m small doesn’t mean I need to be toted around all the time.”

   A pit forms in Henry’s stomach at that. But he accepts it with a frown and a nod regardless.

   Henry takes the lead and Terriermon follows behind him. Despite Terriermon’s comment about being small, Henry purposefully moves ahead slowly so he can keep up. 

The path set out before them is an uneven dirt road which weaves through the less popular of the Market’s stalls. There are a few Gekomon knitting, here and there. But most of them are empty or their Gekomon vendors look bored. 

   They walk in silence. 

   Terriermon hops onto Henry’s shoulder, climbs atop his head, and sits.

   “It’s about time,” Henry quips.

   “What was that about always having something to say?”

   “I learn from the best,” Henry says. 

   “Uh-huh. You can say that again.”

   Henry chuckles to himself. 

   They fall into a comfortable silence. 

   “Heya, Henry?” Terriermon watches Henry’s hair tousle in the wind. “Please don’t compare me to Suzie again.”

   Henry stops. 

   “I-I mean, and here I thought getting my butt whooped by the Deva was bad enough. I didn’t think being compared to her was gonna hurt like it did. But I guess it’s true, then,” Terriermon hugs his ears. “You really do learn something new everyday.”

   “I’m sorry,” Henry’s posture wilts.

   “I only mess with you as much as I do because I like you,” Terriermon says. “Aren’t friends supposed to make each other laugh?”

   No response. 

   Terriermon continues. “It’s the only way I can get you to talk to me, Henry. You’re always stuck up there in your head  like you’ve got Velcro on your feet.”

   “You’re not wrong about that last part,” Henry says. 

   “What about the first?”

   Henry looks down at the ground. “I want to say I can’t see it, but I can. Especially here of late. I’m sorry, Terriermon. I shouldn’t have tried to tell you about what I have going on, it’s not an excuse. I’m going to do better. I have to do better.”

   “Glad to hear it,” Terriermon perks up.

   Henry nods to himself. And then he nods in accepting his promise to not only Terriermon, but himself to do better. He starts walking again and sets off to rejoin with Takato. 

   With nothing to distract him, Henry’s thoughts laugh at his attempt to push them out of his brain. 

   Why does he always have to be the bigger person? 

   Why didn’t Terriermon apologize? 

   No, he shouldn’t ask those questions. He’s in the wrong and needs to accept what’s done is done. It’s time to move forward. Living in the past can only take away from your future, as his sensei says. 

   Stoicism. He needs to be more stoic. His emotions are his own and he must master them. He has to be stronger than his excuses—

   Henry’s foot snags on a jut of rock. He stumbles forward and Terriermon slips off of his head. With the grace afforded to him through his martial arts training, Henry prevents himself from tripping, catches Terriermon, and regains his footing. 

   “You got butter on the bottoms of your shoes or something?” Terriermon asks. 

   “Sorry, I’m usually more agile than that.”

   Terriermon’s brows furrow. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

   “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”

   Like a bullied songbird refusing to come out of a cuckoo clock, Holly kept herself and Pan tucked away within the hollow tree. She fell asleep a while ago but doesn’t remember drifting off. But she can recall the sensation of something tugging at her waist and shoulder. Foggy from everything that’s transpired, Holly groans and pushes her hair out of her face.  

   …

   Thump

   …

   Thump

   …

   Thump

   ….

   Holly rubs her eyes and surveys her surroundings, trying to find out where that thump is coming from. It sounds like a Roomba bumping into a raised step over and over again. 

   Before investigating, Holly peers down to check on Pan, and feels like a scuba diver who just noticed their oxygen tank only has seconds left. 

   He’s gone. 

   “Paaan!” Holly shouts like a shrill mother. She scrambles up to her feet, lunges forward, and her overalls drop to her ankles.

   Thump. 

   That one was her.

   Adrenaline picks her back up. Upon discovering her other strap busted and is missing the clasp, she kicks her overalls off and dashes forward. 

   Ready to dive out of the tree and throw herself into a fist fight, Holly halts at the rim of the entrance. 

   “Oh, my freakin’ god. Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” She blows out a sigh of relief. 

   Electronic blue eyes lit up and sparkling, Pan bumps into the lip of the tree.

   Thump.

   Similar to a computer mouse, Pan as Metal Koromon possesses a pair of wheels over a ball that helps him scoot around the ground. And as of right now, they’re trying their damndest to get him up and into this tree. Holly can’t help but laugh. She bends down to pick him up. 

   “C’mere, little guy,” Holly picks him up like a double cheeseburger. “What’re you even doing?”

   Pan’s eyes blink out of sync like a frog. 

   Silence. 

   “Hungry! Hungry!”

   Holly inhales sharply. If her pupils could reshape themselves into hearts, they would.

   When Pan was Sol Kokuwamon, he explained to her that his various stages of Digivolution determined his ability to compute complex emotions and thoughts, with his Ultimate and Mega levels possessing the most processing power. Which means, as of right now, Pan has two brain cells and they’re both fighting it out for third place. 

   Today is the worst best day ever.

   “Oh, no. You’re stupid,” Holly giggles. “How much are we workin’ with in there? Let’s see, maybe you could tell me what you can eat? I mean, I’ve seen you glug down gas like a boss, but that’s about it. Is there anything else?”

   His eyes blink out of sync again. 

   “Hungry! Hungry!”

   Annnd that’s about what she expected. 

   Thinking to herself about what to do next, Holly returns to her spot where she was previously sitting in the tree. She sits with her legs crossed and puts Pan in her lap.

   A familiar sense of dread rises into her chest and sucks the air out. 

   … She’s gonna have to go into that village, isn’t she. 

   Holly looks down at Pan. His eyes blink out of sync again. Will the village even have gas? Oil? Transmission fluid or coolant? What does he even eat when he’s the little guy? 

   WD40?

   Does he eat anything solid—

   Holly digs a hand into her pocket and retrieves a modest collection of screws, bolts, and nuts. She offers him them.

   “Hungry! Hungry!” He gobbles them out of her palm like a greedy stingray.

   Holly fishes through her pockets for as many as she can find. As Pan munches and crunches away, she works on removing the metal rings connecting her tattered bag to its straps. As soon as she has them she gives them to him as well. 

   Pan spins in the little space between Holly’s legs like an RC car. 

   “Hungry! Hungry!”

   Holly pats herself down searching for something, anything else. Does she have any wiring in her bra? Is she wearing any earrings?

   Holly’s eyes light up. Her overalls!

   She searches them for the belt buckle, buttons for the straps, alongside the metal clasps. 

   Nothing. They’ve already been pulled off—

   Holly looks down at Pan.

   He’s still going. Round and around.

   Happy little bastard got to them already, it must have been him that was tugging at her while she slept. She runs her fingers through her hair and scratches her head. 

   She really, really wants to avoid that village at all costs.

   But she’ll go if she has to for Pan. 

   Giving herself another pat down, Holly spots the button keeping her jeans up. Ugh, screw it. She’ll figure out how to keep her pants up later. 

   “You’re lucky I love you,” She pops the button off. 

   Pan sucks it out of her palm and whirs. 

   “Digivolve! Digivolve!”

   “Wait, really?! That was it?!”

   Pan’s silhouette stretches up and out into Sol Kokuwamon. When the light of his Digivolution breaks, his form solidifies and he takes a step back from her.

   “Madam,” Pan says, his voice backed by digital chirping. “I believe we should discuss our relationship given recent events. Urgently.”

   Holly brings her knees to her chest and hugs them.

   “I’m sorry,” She whispers. 

   Electricity crackles between his prongs. 

   Pan’s eyes dim and he looks away from her. 

Chapter twenty two: Pants on Fire, Part Two

   One by one the tamers and their Digimon regrouped, meeting at the entrance of the market. 

   Kazu rejoins Kenta with a hollow look on his face. 

   “You alright, man?” Kenta asks. 

   “Who, me?” Kazu puts effort into his grin. “Yeah, man! Never better. Why do you ask?”

   “I dunno, you just look like you’ve got the funk, or something.”

   “No way, dude. The only way I’ve got funk is if it’s to the beat of Funky town.”

   “Am I the only one who just realized how white this guy is?” Terriermon says. “Or is it just me?”

   “No,” Henry pretends to laugh. “It’s not just you. We know.”

   “Whatever, Terriermon,” Kazu says. “Just admit it. You’re jealous cause I’ve got that rizz, and you don’t.”

   “If by rizz you mean unseasoned chicken and country music, have at it.”

   Henry resists the urge to bark Terriermon’s name. He instead smiles to himself, shakes his head, and chuckles. 

   “Burn,” Kenta says.

   Kazu puts his hands up and shrugs. “I don’t know, you guys. All I’m hearing are jealous words from a jealous Digimon.”

   “What’s there to be jealous of?” Rika aims her scratchy voice at Kazu. “How useless you are?”

   “Aww! Hey there, babe. I didn’t know you missed me so much,” Kazu says. 

   Renamon steps forward. “She missed you in the same way a stray misses being struck by a car.”

   “Ohhhh. So she did miss me, is what you’re saying,” Kazu says. 

   “Can someone please tie a rock around his ankle and throw him overboard,” Rika says. 

   Leomon rests a hand on Kazu’s shoulder. “That’s enough for now. Has anyone learned of anything we can use?”

   “Sorry, guys,” Takato winces and turns his pockets inside out. “I’ve got nothing.”

   “Hehe, yeah, Takato’s always broke,” Kenta says. 

   Kazu nods. “Nice.”

   They give each other a high five and Takato frowns. 

   Leomon noisily clears the phlegm from his throat and stares Kazu and Kenta down. 

   They huddle together under the weight of Leomon’s shadow. 

   With a sigh and the crossing of his arms, Leomon turns to Henry. 

   “Jeri and I have yet to find anything,” He says. “What about you?”

   “Not me, him,” Henry gestures with his chin up at Terriermon. 

   “Looks like the big turkey is at World’s end. My guess it’s because we kicked his Deva to the curb and now he’s pouting like we stole the chips to his salsa.”

   “Aw, Takato-Mon,” Guilmon whines. “Now I want chips and salsa.”

   Little Yellow points at her open mouth. 

   Kazu puts his hands behind his head. “I’m with Guilmon on this one, guys. I could go for some grub right about now too.”

   “Ugh, all you guys ever do is think about food,” Rika says. 

   “Don’t forget about you,” Kazu says. 

   “Ew,” Rika makes a sour face. 

   “What’s that all about? Ohhhhh. I think I get it now. You’re tired, aren’t you?” Kazu says. 

   “Tired of you,” Renamon chimes in. 

   Kazu flashes Rika a grin. “Nah, she’s not tired of me. But she is tired from running around in my mind all day! Aye!”

   Kazu and Kenta high-five. 

   “Can you two knock that off?” Henry says. 

   “Henry’s right, you guys,” Takato says. “We finally have a lead, so I think it’s time to ease off the jokes for a while until we can get things figured out.”

   Rika dismisses Kazu and Kenta with the wave of the back of her hand. “Go do nothing somewhere else. It’s not like either of you have Digimon, anyways.”

   Kazu’s smarmy smile fades. 

   He looks off to the side and mutters, “Whatever. C’mon, Kenta. Let’s go before the Digimon Queen tells us we’re useless again.”

   “W-Wait,” Rika says. “I didn’t…”

   “She didn’t mean to upset you,” Renamon steps in. “She was only returning your banter.”

   “Haven’t we always known they can dish it but can’t take it?” Terriermon says. 

   “It’s more complicated than what we have time for,” Leomon says. “The boys will be fine. They’re resilient.”

   Rika frowns at the ground. “Yeah, but— Nevermind. It’s whatever.”

   “I don’t think you should be so hard on yourself,” Jeri joins Rika’s side. “Boys are silly. So, I think it’s okay if we’re a little silly sometimes too.”

   Jeri lays her head on Rika’s shoulder.  

   “Thanks for being my friend, Jeri,” Rika softly smiles. 

   “You really see me as your friend?”

   “Mhm,” Rika says. 

   Jeri hugs Rika’s arm tightly with a girly giggle. 

   “Does that mean Leomon and Renamon are friends too?”

   “We already are,” Renamon says. 

   “Renamon’s correct. We share similar values,” Leomon says. “Should we have crossed paths under different circumstances, I wouldn’t have been opposed to Renamon as my ally.”

   “The feeling is mutual,” Renamon bows her head. 

   “What about us?” Terriermon hops off of Henry’s head and lands on Guilmon’s back. He performs a handstand, puts an arm behind his back, and does a few pushups. “Bet none of your other friends can do this.”

   “He’s got a point,” Takato notes. 

   “You’re not wrong,” Henry says. 

   “Oh! Takato-Mon, can I try? Pleeeaaassseee?” 

   “Wait, what? You want to— I don’t know, buddy. You’re kinda hefty.”

   Terriermon bounces off of Guilmon as he lays himself on the ground. Scooching his hind legs forward and pushing his chest into the dirt, Guilmon attempts to do a handstand. 

   Little Yellow zips in front of his snout and urgently shakes her head. 

   “But I’ve almost got it,” Guilmon grunts. 

   “Does anybody else think Guilmon looks about as stable as a jenga tower, or is it just me?” Terriermon says. 

   Guilmon’s arms tremble as he pushes himself up into a handstand. Focusing on his balance, he slowly lifts an arm out and—

   “Oh no,” Guilmon wobbles. 

   Skidding on his knees, Leomon catches Guilmon before he topples over to the ground. 

   “Thank you, Mr. Leomon. I think that would have really hurt if I fell.”

   “There’s no need to thank me,” Leomon helps Guilmon to his feet. “You were doing well until you tried to hold out your arm. Keep practicing. You’ll have it down soon enough.”

   “Okay, I will,” Guilmon plods over to Takato and sits, pleased with himself. 

   “It would be best for us to leave tomorrow morning,” Leomon sweeps his eyes over everyone. “You will need to be well rested. The journey to World’s End will not be easy. I’ve only been there once.”

   “Heya, guys? We should probably have this talk with Kazu and Kenta,” Takato says. “I know they can be a handful at times, but they’re our friends and I don’t want to see them get hurt.”

   “Speak for yourself,” Terriermon mutters. 

   “Takato’s right. I don’t want to see them get hurt either,” Henry says.

   “They’re more capable than you give them credit for,” Leomon says. “Just because they act stupid doesn’t mean they are.”

   “Are you sure?” Renamon asks. 

   Leomon smirks. “Not in the slightest.”

   Everyone has a laugh. 

   The group enters the market to hunt down Kazu and Kenta. They weave through crowds of Gekomon wearing outfits better befitting corny Halloween costumes than reflections of their careers. 

   “Would you guys like to thsample some honey bread?” A Gekomon Baker asks, dressed with a tall chef's hat. 

   Another Gekomon, one dressed as a dairy farmer, holds up a gallon of milk. “How about thsome milk with that bread? It’s fresh and creamy!”

   Rika cringes. “Please tell me I’m not the only one who just got grossed out by that.”

   “I don’t know,” Henry strokes his chin. “Fresh and creamy does have a nice ring to it.”

   Rika playfully shoves Henry. He loses his footing and laughs as he catches himself. 

   “Whatever! You can take your ‘fresh and creamy’ and—” Rika pauses. “I’m never saying those words again. You didn’t hear me say them. Got it?”

   “I didn’t hear a thing,” Henry says. 

   “Good,” Rika says.

   Jeri meanders up to Takato, holding a red cup of milk with both hands. 

   Having yet to see her, Takato keeps himself busy by overlooking the Gekomon baker’s layout of pastries.

   “Do you think they’re as good as your parents?” Jeri says. 

   Takato startles with a yelp. His cheeks brighten. 

   “Jeri?! Jeri! Hi! I was just, well, y’know—“ He quickly grooms his hair and adjusts his goggles. “Looking at stuff. And things. Um, Oh! How was the show?”

   “It was awful,” Jeri giggles. She then leans into Takato and whispers, “I think I have everyone else fooled, including Leomon. They actually think I like it. Isn’t that funny? You have to keep it a secret, though. Okay?”

   “O-Of course! I won’t tell anyone, you can count on me,” Takato grins. He then lowers his voice and continues, “I think it’s really funny though that you got one over on Leomon. He’s such an awesome Digimon. I’m really glad you got him for a partner.”

   “Stop it,” Jeri giggles. “You’re so sweet, Takato. Would you like some?”

   She offers him her cup of milk.

   Takato looks at it like it’s a glowing bar of gold. 

   “W-Wait, for me? Really? I uh, I mean, sure? Thank you! Yeah, I’d love to have some, actually, if that’s alright with you, I mean.”

   Jeri blushes and passes him the milk. He takes a swig off of it, his heart racing.

   “T-Thank you,” Takato hands it back. “It’s, um, really good! Yeah. It tastes great. Thank you!”

   Jeri giggles again. “I just indirectly gave you a kiss.”

   “You did?!” Takato exclaims. 

   “Yep! It was destiny,” Jeri quickly pecks Takato on the cheek before skipping off. “Goodbye, Takato!”

    Takato blinks. With his mind still catching up to process what just happened, he touches his cheek where Jeri kissed him. A sappy smile follows. 

   With Little Yellow sitting between his ears, Guilmon waddles up to Takato. “Takato-Mon, you have a milk mustache.”

   “Uh-huh.”

   “Takato-Mon?” Guilmon nudges him. “Helllloooo? Oh, no. I think he’s broken.”

   “I’m gonna marry her one day,” Takato says dreamily. 

   Guilmon and Little Yellow cock their heads to the side. 

   “If I were Kazu and Kenta, where would I be,” Henry ponders.

   “Do you really have to ask that?” Rika says. 

   Henry pauses. “Food truck?”

   He and Rika nod at one another and say together, “Food truck.”

   Renamon materializes beside them. “No. They aren’t there. I’ve already looked.”

   “Then where did those two dunderheads go? I swear, if they’re actually doing something useful for a change, I’m gonna go find the nearest cliff and jump off of it.”

   Terriermon giggles. “Don’t get their hopes up.”

   Guilmon nudges Takato towards Henry and Rika. 

   They join them a few moments later. 

   “I think Jeri broke Takato-Mon,” Guilmon says. “His face is stuck.”

   “He looks like the one time I told Suzie the edibles your older brother left were gummy bears,” Terriermon giggles. 

    “Is that what happened to her?!” Henry raises his voice. He then grounds himself and forces out a chuckle. “Well, at least now I can tell Dad it wasn’t Mom who ate all of his pistachios.”

   “Don’t forget the cereal,” Terriermon says. 

   “Alright, lover boy,” Rika walks up to Takato and claps him on the cheek. “Snap out of it. You can crush on Jeri later.”

   “Wait, what?” Takato says blankly. 

   Reality catches up with him. 

   “I-I don’t have a crush on Jeri!” Takato says.

   Henry and Rika exchange a glance. Renamon taps her foot. Terriermon giggles and Guilmon nudges Takato to grab his attention. 

   “Takato-Mon, what does having a crush mean?”

   “Uhhh,” Takato rubs the back of his neck. “Well, boy. Um, you see…”

   “If I’m not mistaken, it means he would like to be partners with Jeri,” Renamon says. 

   “But I thought I was your partner, Takato-Mon?” 

   “N-Not like that, buddy,” Takato whispers to Guilmon. “It means I want to marry her someday.”

   “Takato-Mon wants to marry Jeri?” Guilmon says aloud. 

   Terriermon giggles. “Looks like Guilmon spilled the beans.”

   “I-I didn’t say marry! I was just telling him that— well, marry and Jeri does rhyme, hehehe,” Takato looks at Henry and Rika. “Is it really that obvious?”

   “Duh,” Rika says.

   “Yeah, I think everyone knows it by now,” Henry says. 

   Renamon chimes in. “She seems to be fond of you as well.”

   “Jeri and Takato, sitting in a tree,” Terriermon starts to sing. 

   Takato stares at them all, red as the tip of a thermometer. 

   Heavy footsteps approach Takato from behind. Rika and Henry exchange another sideways glance. Renamon clears her throat. 

   “Uh-oh,” Terriermon whispers. “Daddy’s home.”

   “I’d like it if you married Jeri, Takato-Mon. She’s nice,” Guilmon says.

   “Yes, she is,” Leomon’s shadow swallows Takato and Guilmon. He looms over them, his arms crossed. 

   Takato almost falls over. 

   “L-Leomon!?” He scrambles to turn around. “Oh, hey! Hahaha, didn’t see you there, even though you're, y’know, almost ten feet tall. How’s it going?” A pause. “Please don’t kill me.”

   Leomon leers his eyes with a chest rumble. 

   Silence. 

   “When she’s twenty one,” Leomon says sternly. 

   “Twenty one? What does that—“ Takato gasps. He then starts counting on his fingers. “Wait, that’s—“ He recounts. “That’s five years from now. Doesn’t that seem a little harsh?”

   Leomon furthers the narrowing of his eyes. 

   “Nope, five years is good,” Takato nods emphatically. 

   Leomon snorts.

   “Speaking of Jeri, where is she?” Rika asks. “Is she okay?”

   “She’s with Kazu and Kenta for the time being,” Leomon says. 

   “You left her alone with them?” Henry asks. 

   Leomon nods. “I believe they could use her kindness at the moment.”

   “More like a swift kick in the butt,” Rika says. 

   “That too,” Leomon nods once to Rika before continuing. “You cannot blame them for their spirits being low. They have no Digimon to call their own.”

   “Seems like a ‘them’ issue to me,” Terriermon says. 

   “True. Yet I don’t believe kindness should be withheld from them. If anything, they’re likely to need it the most. Neither of them have taken Aries’ rejection well.”

   “Well, can you blame her?” Rika says. “As if one of those two idiots could handle a Greymon, let alone a Metal Greymon.”

   “I don’t disagree with you,” Leomon says. “What I want understood is that everyone is worthy of kindness, both the weak and the strong.”

   Rika allows for Leomon’s words to sink in. 

   She looks down and whispers, “Like Impmon, right?”

   “Yes,” Leomon nods. “Like Impmon.”

   “Are you still worried about him?” Renamon touches Rika’s shoulder. 

   “Mhm,” Rika says. 

   “We haven’t seen him since that fight with Vikaralamon,” Takato says. “I don’t know if he made it.”

   Rika winces. 

   “We have a lot of ground to cover before we reach World’s End,” Henry says to Rika. “If he’s out there, we’ll find him.”

   “Yeah. I hope you’re right,” Rika tries to smile and fails. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better.”

   Terriermon hops into Rika’s arms, startling her. She looks down at him with wide eyes. 

    “Momentai,” Terriermon says. “Don’t worry, Rika. Impmon’s bound to show up, sooner or later. He always does. Even when we reallllly don’t want him too.”

   Rika settles into holding Terriermon and pets his ears. 

    “Your fur is really soft,” Rika says. 

   Before Terriermon can quip, Renamon lifts him out of Rika’s arms. 

   “Come here, you,” Renamon says. 

   “Awwww,” Terriermon says. “Who knew you were such a party pooper.”

   Leomon lifts his brows at Renamon. A smirk follows. 

   Renamon holds her chin up and tucks Terriermon under an arm like a football. 

   “Hey, let me go. It’s not like I’m luggage or anything,” Terriermon pouts. “You’re just being jealous because my fur is softer than yours.”

   “No, it is not,” Renamon says. 

   “Yeah, it is,” Terriermon says. 

   “No.”

   “Then why does your tail look like a rat’s been sucking on it?”

   “Oh, so that was you?”

   Terriermon laughs. 

   Henry retrieves Terriermon and chuckles to himself.

   Terriermon purses his lips at Renamon. “Just so you know? This isn’t over.”

   “I would hope not,” Renamon says smoothly. 

   Rika smirks at Renamon as she returns to stand behind her. 

   “Didn’t know you could get jealous,” Rika says.  

   “Me? Jealous?” Renamon muses. Then she leans forward and whispers against Rika’s ear. “Of course I was jealous.”

   Rika sharply inhales. A blush dusts her cheeks pink.

   “It’s time we wrap things up. We should use the rest of this day to prepare for tomorrow. Rest up, children. I’m counting on you,” Leomon turns to Henry. “I can act as our guide, but I cannot do this alone. Can I rely on you?”

   “Absolutely,” Henry answers without hesitation. 

   “Heck yeah, Henry! Leader of the tamers!” Takato proudly raises his Digivice into the air. “I’d like to keep my goggles, though. If that’s alright.”

   “Wahoo!” Guilmon tackles Takato with a hug. “What are we celebrating?”

   Little Yellow throws fairy dust in the air and cheers. 

   “Wait, wait, wait. Slow down, you guys. I’m just going to help Leomon formulate a strategy. I’m not the leader of anything,” Henry says. 

   “Spoken like a true leader,” Leomon says. 

   Henry groans. 

   “Way to go, Henry!” Terriermon lifts his arms up in celebration. “Look at us, moving on up in the world. Does this mean I can have a Nintendo switch when we get home?”

   Henry looks to Rika for support. 

   “Leader, mother, older brother,” Rika smirks. “Same thing.”

   Henry frowns. 

   Renamon touches his forearm. “Leaders should never be born, only chosen.”

   “Couldn’t you guys choose somebody else,” Henry says.

   “Like who? George and Lenny over there?” Rika asks. 

   “On second thought, maybe I should be the leader,” Henry says. “Wait a minute, was that an Of Mice and Men reference ?”

   “Took you long enough,” Rika smirks. 

   “Wouldn’t Captain Underpants suit them better?” Terriermon asks. 

   Everyone laughs. 

   Henry closes his eyes and exhales.

   Leomon gives him a solid pat on the back. “We’ll do this together, Henry. I’ll be with you every step of the way.” 

   “Can we go already?” Kenta whines. “We’ve been at this booth for like an hour.”

   “Yeah, yeah, just give me a sec,” Kazu ignores him. “What about this one?”

   Kazu points to a tin with a lotus flower painted on top. There are dozens of them in all matters of shapes, colors, and sizes. To the left on a chalkboard reads: Organic Healing Salves and Balms.

   A Gekomon with beads around her neck and a witch hat unscrews the lid. She reveals a pale balm dressed with blue lotus petals. 

   “Thisth one here carries anti-inflammatory properties. It’s been infusthed with shea butter code, white willow bark, ginger, and licorice root.”

   “Pass. What about something to do with cuts? Kinda like suture tape. Anything like that?” Kazu asks. 

   “I don’t know what thsuture tape is, but I do have this,” The witchy Gekomon retrieves an unlabeled tin from beneath her counter. “Data lotion, Calendula, yarrow, and white thyme. Good for knicks and scrapeths. You can have thisth tester thseeing as I could use the space. It’s not one that thsold well so I’ve thstopped carrying it.”

   “Hey, thanks! Do you mind if we test it?” Kazu asks.

   “I thsuppose? You can do as you like, thseeing as it’s yours now.”

   “Hey, you said it, not me,” Kazu digs into his fanny pack. He retrieves a pocket knife and pops the blade out. With a devious smile, he turns to Kenta. 

   The tip of the knife twinkles. 

   Kenta steps back. “Uh-uh, man! Find someone else!”

   “I wanna try!” Jeri startles them both with a giggle. She slides between them and offers her arm. “I feel like it’s destiny that I showed up when I did.”

   “No way, Jeri. No can do,” Kazu says. “First of all? I’m not that type of guy. I don’t like hurting chicks. Second? Are you crazy?! Leomon would kill me!”

   “I don’t think he would if he knew why,” Jeri holds her arm out firmly. “Please let me help? Just this once? No one ever lets me, and this is something I can do, even if it is small.”

   “Yeahhhhh, not gonna happen. How about you help Kenta over there from wetting himself instead?” Kazu laughs and lines up the blade.

   He steadies himself with deep breath, and Jeri snatches it from him.

   She slices her arm open without hesitation.

   “Jeri! What's the matter with you?!” Kazu grabs her arm and raises his voice. “Holy shit, woman, what is going on up there?! I was just going to do a quick one, why did you go so hard?! Are you crazy?!”

   Blood flows freely down Jeri’s arm.

   Kenta watches it trickle to the ground. “Um, J-Jeri? H-Hey. It’ll um, it’ll be okay. Maybe we should get you out of here.”

   Jeri yanks her arm back. She gives Kazu a stern look of determination. 

   “It’s for Aries, right?”

   Kazu stills. His lips part with a question his eyes have already asked. 

   Jeri softens with an understanding smile. “I wanted to help because I knew you weren’t going to go deep enough. And it’s okay, really! I don’t mind. Stuff like this doesn’t bother me anymore.”

   Kazu and Kenta exchange a look of concern. 

   Kenta looks down at the ground.

   Kazu puts an arm around Jeri’s shoulder and gently pulls her in. 

   “That uh, last word there had some weight to it. Are you okay?” A pause. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to say it out loud if you don’t want to. You can just give me the look and we can go from there, alright?”

   “Don’t be silly. I’m fine, I promise! See?” Jeri prods the wound and it gapes, fleshy and open. “It doesn’t even hurt that bad.”

   “B-But you went so deep,” Kenta whispers. 

   “It’s okay. I meant to go down a little more, but I think the excitement of it all got to my head,” Jeri giggles. “Who knew boys were so sensitive?”

   Kazu glances down and a pit forms in his stomach. 

   There’s blood smeared down the front of Jeri’s overalls. It’s on her shoes, too. And his. 

   “You know you could tell me, right? About anything. You don’t even have to ask. Your big brother Kazu here’s got you, okay?”

   “I didn’t know you liked me this much. Do you have a crush on me, Kazu?” Jeri giggles once more. “Well, that’s too bad. Because my destiny is already spoken for.”

   Jeri shimmies away from Kazu and picks up the tin of salve. Smearing a glob onto her finger, she spreads it along the lips of the wound. Glittering ones and zeros float from her arm. The salve melts into her skin. A line of light races up the wound and it zips shut.

   “That was amazing,” Jeri rolls her arm and studies it. “Did you guys see that?”

   “N-No. Sorry, blood makes me, um, kinda squeamish,” Kenta says. 

   “Yeah, poor guy over there couldn’t even handle the second Jurassic park,” Kazu says.

   “Have you seen the latest one?” Jeri asks.

   “Nah, I stopped watching em’ altogether after the third one. I can only suspend my disbelief for so long with those kinds of movies. I mean, you know it’s bad when you feel like you’ve gotta get stoned so you can be on the same level as the plot.”

   “What do you mean by that?” Jeri frowns. “I really liked the movies.”

   Kazu glances at Jeri’s arm. “Hey, we’re gonna set this one aside for now. Are you sure you’re okay? You just scared the crap outta me and Kenta, and I want to make sure you’re alright.”

   “You do have a crush on me!” Jeri giggles. 

   Kazu winces. “I’m worried about you, Jeri.”

   “I am t-too,” Kenta pipes up. 

   “Stop being so dramatic, sheesh,” Jeri waves them off.

   She hands Kazu the salve and smiles wistfully. “I hope she’s your partner.”

   “I’m not doing it for that reason,” Kazu mumbles. “I don’t know if it’ll even work.”

   “I know,” Jeri says. 

   Kenta takes his glasses off and cleans them with the hem of his shirt. 

   Kazu blows out a long, winded sigh. Then he puts his personality on like a coat.

   “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m pretty much done here. Whaddya say we head back to the others and see if they’re up to grabbing something to eat with us? And who knows, maybe the Digimon Queen’ll even grace us with her presence again.”

   “Y-Yeah, I think it’s a good idea to head back,” Kenta says. “Um, what do you think, Jeri?”

   Jeri slips her socket puppet on. 

   “StressStressStress. Friends are stressed. Stressed! Stressed because Jeri writes on her skin and silly boys can’t read. Bark! Bark!”

   Kazu and Kenta grimace at one another.

   Jeri stuffs her sock puppet into her pocket. 

   “Only if you two promise to stop being so silly,” Jeri crosses her arms. “Everyone’s already stressed enough as it is, okay?”

   Kazu and Kenta exchange another glance. 

   “Sure thing, Jeri,” They say with their fingers crossed behind their backs. “No problem. You can count on us.”

      Kazu, Kenta, and Jeri wrapped things up with the witchy Gekomon, cleaned themselves off, and regrouped with the others. Though it should be worth mentioning Kenta nearly puked when the witchy Gekomon collected Jeri’s blood into a little glass vial.

    _{A little glass vial?}

   “Oh, man, you guys should’ve been there,” Kazu slaps his knee laughing. “Jeri and I thought he was gonna hurl like he had been on a rollercoaster since the second coming of Christ.”

   Takato pats Kenta on the back. “I think the food truck Guilmon likes has the Digital equivalent of Sprite. Do you think it’d help?”

   “I don’t need anyone to baby me, Takato,” Kenta wipes his mouth. “Thanks, though.”

   “Don’t mention it, pal,” Takato says. 

   “Anyways!” Jeri skips up cheerfully to Leomon. “Did you guys talk about anything exciting while I was gone?”

   “I’ve asked Henry to help me plan accordingly for our voyage,” Leomon says. “Other than that, we’ve discussed nothing you’re not already aware of. You have my word.”

   Jeri looks over her shoulder at Henry and smiles. “What have you guys come up with so far?”

   “About that,” Henry says. “We haven’t. At least not yet. I don’t know about you guys, but I figured we’d all talk it over tonight so we’ll be prepared to leave by morning.”

   “Yes,” Leomon says. “My sentiments exactly. Good call, Henry.”

   “We could do it over dinner,” Takato suggests. “My Mom’s always said that food’s the best way to bring people together, y’know? And their bakery has been successful, so…”

   “Yeah, that’s cute and all, but has anyone else noticed that we haven’t actually been eating?” Rika says. “I barely feel a thing and the only food I’ve had since we got here was with thing one and thing two over there.”

   Kazu takes a bite out of an apple. “Speak for yourself. With all this free food around here, that sounds like a you problem.”

   “Where were you even keeping that?” Rika asks.

   Kazu smirks. “You’d know if it was up your—“

   “Finish that sentence and I’ll knock your teeth out,” Rika says.

   “Sounds kinky,” Kazu says. 

   “Ughhhhh,” Rika groans. 

   “Now that you mention it, I barely feel hungry at all,” Henry says. “Why is that? Is it our physical bodies adjusting to the Digital World?”

   “That actually makes a lot of sense,” Takato says. “Do Digimon even need to eat?”

   “No,” Renamon says. “You can think of it similarly to how you humans enjoy television. It is nice, yes. But it’s not a necessity.”

   “I think I’m a weird Digimon, then,” Guilmon says. “I think my tummy wouldn’t be happy without food, which would make me really sad.”

   “Then we will make sure your needs are accounted for,” Leomon nods at Guilmon. “From here we should take advantage of the Gekomon’s hospitality and prepare for the journey ahead.”

   “Thank you, Mr. Leomon. You’re always so nice,” Guilmon says. 

   “I try to be,” Leomon crosses his arms and smiles. 

   Jeri hugs Leomon’s arm and giggles. “Then let’s get started!”

   “Not to rain on anyone’s parade, but am I seriously the only one who finds it weird that they’ve been giving us all this stuff for free?” Terriermon says. “For all we know, they could be a bunch of commies.”

   Henry puts a hand over his mouth and tries not to laugh. A small huff escapes him. 

   Terriermon giggles. “Gotcha, Henry.”

   “Shut up,” Henry chuckles.

   “C’monnnn, guys! Don’t listen to him,” Kazu says. “Food is food, and free food is freeee fooood!”

   Takato holds his hands out like a politician. “I mean, I do like free food. But I think Terriermon’s got a point. Anybody else think it’s strange they’ve been so focused on getting us to come to their celebration?”

   “I think you mean their ‘thcelebration’,” Kenta says.

   Kazu nods at him. “Nice.”

   They high-five. 

   “It’s because they’re desperate,” Leomon grunts.

   Jeri giggles. “Wouldn’t it be funny if this was all just for one big Digimon battle?”

   “Yeah!” Takato grins at Jeri like a dork. “We could even fight their ShogunGekomon!”

   All the Gekomon in the market stop. They turn to look at Takato and Jeri.

   They’re perfectly still. Silent. And have no emotion.

   “You could, could you?” A Gekomon asks blankly.

   “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Takato says. “Maybe?”

   Silence. Not one of them blinks. 

   But one does sneeze. 

   “Achoo!”

   “Thshut up,” The Gekomon beside it whispers. “You’re going to ruin our thsuspense.”

   “Thsorry.”

   The Gekomon continue to stare.

   Then they start laughing. A baker slaps his knee. One with a toupee throws it into the air like a graduation cap. Party favors rain down confetti with cheering and pops. 

   They stop again.

   The toupee lands on top of the baker's chef hat. It slides off and smacks his cake. 

   Nobody moves. 

   The seconds stretch. 

   As if nothing had happened, all the Gekomon return to work, chatting amongst themselves and displaying their products.

   Rika scowls at Takato. “You and your big mouth. I swear to god, Takato, if that’s what somehow ends up happening, I’m going to be so mad at you.”

   Takato rubs the back of his neck and chuckles. “Yeahhhh, that sounds about right.”

   “Chat, we’re so cooked,” Kazu laughs. 

   Holly keeps her attention on the ground, arms wrapped around her knees. She winces once Pan finally decides to start speaking.

   “I would like to begin with suggesting a compromise,” Pan says. “For there is much I wish to say, and I would prefer to do so uninterrupted. I will provide you with the same space to speak your mind once I am finished. Are these terms acceptable to you?”

   Holly gently nods. 

   “Thank you,” Pan says.

   Silence.

   “… You gave me your word and have repeatedly failed to uphold it,” Pan says. “I acted against the diagnostics, statistics, and simulations I’ve run and I chose to trust you. This has been an egregious oversight on my end.”

   “You d-don’t understand, there was no—“

   Pan cuts her off. “It disappoints me further to see you prove my point.”

   Holly hugs her knees tighter. 

   “You were reckless,” Pan hisses. “You gave me your word and you were reckless. Never before have I been made to feel the depths of disrespect, shame, and fear you have put me through. In such a short amount of time, no less. Under any other circumstances I might have even found it impressive. Where is your integrity? Have I truly mistaken you? Should we choose to continue this—“

   Tears flood Holly’s eyes. 

   “Wait, wait, w-wait, slow down. Slow down, please. I c-can’t, I can’t.”

   Pan resumes. “Once again, should we continue this ‘arrangement’ between us—“

   “Arrangement?” Holly’s heart rate skyrockets. “Oh, my god. Pan, please, I-I don’t think I can d-do this right now, I don’t think, I can’t think, please. Please. Please, don’t say that. P-Please don’t say what I think you’re gonna say.”

   “Negative,” Pan says. “Should the methods I take to assure your survival be cruel, then so be it.”

   Holly’s Digivice rattles. The screen ignites and light crawls over Pan. He throws his arms out like a referee and cancels his Digivolution. Holly pleads with her eyes and looks to him for an answer. 

   Yet he still refuses to look at her. 

   “Negative. I will not allow for my higher self to empathize with your situation. You must learn the consequences behind your actions and their lasting effects. Solar Andromon will not stand in my way from teaching you this lesson.”

   Holly’s eyes slowly widen.

   Anger rushes waves of chills down her arms.

   “… Is that what this is? Are you being serious right now? You’re tryin’ to teach me a lesson?” Holly’s mild southern accent thickens. “Oh, okay then. Two can play at that game, cause I guess I had you mistaken too, hot shot. Because this? Yeah, no. This ain’t it. You’re not gonna tell me after all that to sit down, shut up, and listen to you ‘teach me’ a lesson.”

   Holly rises to her feet. Despite Pan refusing to look at her, she stares him down.

   “Here, since I obviously can’t be trusted in this ‘arrangement’ of ours,” Holly drops her Digivice and rolls it towards Pan. “Come find me if you want, or don’t. I’m outta here.”

   Holly storms away.

   She stops mid step when Pan calls out to her. 

   “Your speech patterns are similar,” Pan gets choked up. “He seemed to care for you rather deeply. P-Perhaps he will serve your best interest better than I ever could,” His voice box crackles and Holly turns around. “It was never my intention to stand in your way. If you take nothing from our time spent together, please know I-I love you. I love you dearly, Holly.”

   Pan picks up the Digivice, gently pinching it between his magnet prongs. 

   His eyes flicker on and off. 

   “Please, don’t leave,” Pan squeaks. 

   Having rushed back, Holly falls to her knees and grabs Pan into a hug. The cables flanking his waist circle her and click together. They fasten tightly.

   “Hey,” She whispers. “It’s okay. We’re gonna be okay. I’m gonna need you to let the big guy out, alright? This is a lot to process. We’re gonna need him. I-I need him.”

   Pan nods. She carries him outside and sets him down. 

   He hands her the Digivice. As soon as it touches her skin the screen ignites.                

   Sol Kokuwamon’s silhouette stretches out and upwards, molding itself around Solar Andromon’s frame. The light of Digivolution breaks off and his visor illuminates.

   The Online shimmers. 

   Pan shivers in a breath that knocks his chest engine. 

   “Fräulein, he was unaware— I was unaware, we thought it to be the best course of action, and we— Nein, I was gruesomely mistaken.”

   “I didn’t have a choice,” Holly begs. “Pan, it was the only way. He would have killed us both. You don’t know him like I do.”

    Pan emits a sorrowful sound akin to a computer powering down from somewhere within him.  

   “I-I was unaware your history with him was more than casual, I have to admit. And yet, despite being your second choice, I thank you for finding me worthy as your partner.”

   “What are you even talking about? You? My second choice?? Pan, I love you, I think the world of you, but you couldn’t be more wrong even if you tried,” Holly shakes her head. “Ugh, I’m sorry for what I’m about to say, Grandpa. Listen: Impmon is a fucking asshole, okay? I’m not gonna lie to you. I did want him as my Digimon. But I wanted him like he was spoiled leftovers and I had nothin’ else to eat.”

   Holly continues. “Meanwhile you’re the whole package, the buffet, and everything plus the kitchen sink. Have you already forgotten I’m the one who pushed for you to come with me?”

   Pan blushes.

   “And I can’t do what ya’ll can. I don’t have powers, I can’t die and come back again, this is a one and done deal for me,” Holly puts her hands over her heart. “So, when I risk my life? It’s for a good reason. And you’re that reason, you ten tons of gas guzzling, you’ve got mail, beep boop beep, C-3PO lookin’ ass, drama king.”

   Pan laughs wetly. He gets down on his knees and brings Holly into his arms.

   “Perhaps you would forgive me if I said I had a bit of a, as one would say, foot in mouth moment?”

   “Mouth moved faster than your brain, huh?”

   “I had convinced myself as Sol Kokuwamon that my involvement as the Digimon I am now would be to your detriment. Due to the gap in processing power between us, rather than flood my network, I relied on his limited abilities so as to not distract myself from my goal.”

   “So, you weaponized how I feel about you to get what you want?”

   “Affirmative,” Pan hangs his head low.

   Silence.

   “I’m sorry,” Holly says.

   “I beg your pardon?”

   “I’m sorry cause I feel like it’s my fault you did that,” Holly says. “Cause I made you feel like you didn’t have any other option.”

   “Negative. I—“

   Holly interrupts him. “I ain’t done. And I’m not mad at you. I get it, I do. But the arrangement thing… that got to me. That really freakin’ hurt and it still does. I’d never do something like that to you.”

   “Madam,” Pan says softly. “You gave me your Digivice with the intent of no return.”

   Holly’s eyes screw shut. “I did. I’m sorry. I just got so caught up and I forgot and— I was… I was being a jerk. This is gonna sound so messed up, but I did that cause I felt like it was my right since you’d said the arrangement thing. I wanted to hurt you back.”

   “Processing. Please wait,” A pause. “It seems we both, as you would say, screwed the pooch.”

   “Yeah, we did. I think we just went at each other cause we can’t go at him.”

   “Promise me,” Pan cups Holly’s face. “Promise me you’ll aim for the issue at hand, not at me. And I will promise you the same. We need not be in opposition to one another, little one.”

   “We’re more than a team. I promise,” Holly squishes her cheek against palm. “There’s something else. I really need you to know there was no other way. I really do. I know I suck, trust me. I know I’ve lied. And know I’ve bent the rules when it comes to keepin’ my word, but—“

   Pan kisses Holly’s forehead and she stills.

   “Say less. I’ve deemed it necessary to share this truth with you so as to ease your worries,” Pan pulls back and smiles sorrowfully. “What can I say for myself? His power far exceeded my own. He bested me with a single blow and I could no longer protect you. And as the situation progressed, when I learned the two of you shared more of a history than I had originally anticipated, my insecurities consumed me. You can be quite convincing, Fräulein. I was scared in more ways than I thought possible. My ego? Shattered. And I was green with envy.”

   “Impmon, Beelzemon, or whatever he is now, is a pair of freakin’ tits on a boar. Sure, he one tapped you. But he got when you’re most vulnerable. And who knows how long he’s been out there absorbing data,” Holly smirks at Pan. “Even with whatever power he got from big bird, it takes him all that and more to get close to your level. And you’re an Ultimate.”

   “You’re far too kind.”

   “Yeah, and Satan serves ice water in Hell. I’m just calling it how I see it, y’know?” Holly says. “Kind would be if I said your dick was bigger than his.”

   Pan laughs. “You’re diabolical. I find it splendid how you’ve chosen to weld ruthlessness with kindness on my behalf. And yes,” Pan settles with a smirk of his own. “It most likely is, thank you very much.”

   “Can I see it?”

   “Fräulein!” Pan exclaims. “Negative!”

   Holly squeals with laughter. Pan chuckles and tucks a curl of hair behind her ear. 

   “Naughty one, you are,” Pan rises to his feet and surveys their surroundings. “In spite of our struggles, I’m at the very least relieved to finally be here. Let’s take a looksie and see where ‘here’ is, precisely.”

   Holly’s stomach hits the floor.

   “W-Wait! I mean, uh, we’re here, right? Yeah! It’s not like we need a map if we’re safe. Why don’t we just go off and explore stuff for ourselves?”

   “Negative. Given recent events, I’d rather proceed with caution. I’ve had enough adventure for the time being,” Pan emits a pulse that ripples across the ground. “Scanning in progress. Haha! Wonderful news, my sweet. It seems we’re near a Gekomon village, approximately one kilometer to the East.”

   “You said Gekomon sounded horrible, remember? Yeah! You, me, and Moti all talked about it, and you guys said Gekomon were worse than Scumon. And, I mean, I’ve smelled a Mini Scumon before. Have you? Dude, trust me, that stink could melt the skin off an elephant. So, can you really blame me for not wanting to go when you yourself said they’re worse than that?”

   “Oh, don’t mistake me. They’re certainly atrocious. Yet their village is the only settlement my radar has been able to locate.”

   “What, you got something against camping?” Pfttt, c’mon. I don’t know about you, but I’m kinda fond of that tree now. Let’s stay here, whaddya say?”

   “Negative. I’d prefer to not have you sleep out in these woods again when there’s finer accommodations less than a kilometer away,” Pan scans Holly, his visor spreading out a cone of light. “Your endorphin levels have drastically increased. Where is the source of this stress coming from?”

   “It’s just been a really long time since I’ve been camping!”

   Pan’s brows push down into his visor. 

   Holly smiles weakly, her leg bouncing.

   Without giving her a hint as to why, Pan’s expression softens. He looks like he’s about to tell her a relative died.

   Rather than take a knee, he gestures for Holly to allow him to pick her up.

   “Rest assured there’s nothing to fear now,” He helps Holly with sitting on his forearm. “While there is a notably powerful Digimon nearby, trust me when I say it’s a lesser potential foe than Wisemon.”

   Pan ghosts a thumb over the deepening bruise on Holly’s jaw. She winces but doesn’t pull away.

   “I would sooner scorch the earth and salt it than allow anyone to bring you harm again. No one there can hurt you, Liebling. I won’t allow it.”

   “Y-You’d really do that? For me?”

   “Affirmative. You can call me Mr. Schadenfreude, mademoiselle. It would be my pleasure.”

   Silence. 

   “Can we just stay out here, please?”

   “Fräulein, put your fears to rest. Allow me to soothe your troubled mind: we can allow for these matters to coexist. I understand the root of this and fear is an appropriate response given recent events. Yet I would like for you to know you’re safe. Nothing can harm you now.”

   Holly looks into his visor, pleading with her eyes. 

   The expression that sweeps over Pan tears through Holly’s heart like a cannonball.

   He looks so innocent, like a child who hasn’t learned that adults tell lies.

   “Perhaps it’s something else?” 

   “I-I lied. I lied to someone I care about, and I’m afraid they’re gonna hate me when they find out.”  

   “Your recklessness is nothing in the face of my foolishness,” Pan tries to smile. “Should I have been wiser, you wouldn’t have been forced to lie to him as you did.”

   Holly looks at Pan like she’s trying to scream his name from behind glass, but he can’t see or hear her. 

   “No, no— Pan, no, that’s not—“ 

   “Shh, it’s quite alright,” Pan coos. “There’s no need to defend your heart. I still love you all the same. And while I may not be Beelzemon, please know I will never stop trying to live up to the bar he left for me.”

   “No, no, no! Stop it, that’s not at all what this is, that’s not what I meant—?!”

   Pan interrupts her with the look on his face. 

   She wants to throw up.

   He looks so sad, yet sweet and accepting. Like a man marrying a widow knowing she’ll never love him like she did her late husband. 

   But he’ll love her all the same. 

   “I cannot fault you for what came before. But mark my words, I’ll do whatever it takes to prove my worth, just you wait and see. Indulge me in the village, liebling. Place your trust in me, I beg of you. I won’t allow for anything to bring you harm,” Pan swallows thickly. “I also believe you’d be far more comfortable there. While it’s true you’ve adapted to the Digital World, you’re still beholden to food, water, and adequate shelter. Please allow me to provide you with this?”

   Is this what the first tear in a broken heart feels like?

   “Okay, I’ll go,” She relents. “But I need you to promise me something in exchange.”

   “Of course. Anything for you, my love. Be it the moon on a string, or a word of encouragement, rest assured I am by your side.”

   “If I tell you I want to leave, or if I don’t want to be there anymore, we leave and don’t look back. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. And there’s one other thing,” Holly screws her eyes shut. Something inside of her slips and she bursts with tears.

   “Easy, my love,” Pan breathes. 

   He holds her face until she calms down, whispering sweet nothings all the while.

   “I-I just wanted you to like me,” She says between desperate breaths.  

   “Oh, Liebling. We surpassed ‘like’ quite some time ago.”

   Pan kisses Holly, fusing their lips together.

   His lips are hungry. Desperate. And she can tell he’s giving her his all. Meanwhile she barely has anything to give. Her lips are weak. Uncertain. And she can’t find it in her to give him her all. 

   Not because she doesn’t want to.

   But because she doesn’t deserve to. 

   They head for the Gekomon village shortly afterwards.

Chapter twenty three: Hanging From a Telephone Wire

   As Holly and Pan enter the Gekomon Village, passing through the first of two wooden gates reminiscent of a Renaissance festival, Pan spots the nearest Gekomon and waves him down. An acorn hits Holly on the head as Pan marches towards the Gekomon. She scowls and tries to pick it out of her hair to no success.

   Rude.

   “Greetings, my semi-aquatic friend!” Pan booms on arrival. “My partner and I wish to seek refuge within your settlement for the time being. If you would be so kind as to indulge me, perhaps you could explain how we could accomplish this? Intel surrounding topics within Ebonwumon’s forest is rather scarce, I’m sorry to say.”

   Dressed with a concession stand uniform, the Gekomon hops and waves. “Thsaulations! Come in, come in! Yesth, yesth, don’t be shy. Allow me to introduce mythself first. My name is Gekomon, but my friendths call me Gekomon. So, please, call me Gekomon. And I’d be happy to help! The process is a thstraight forward, we’ll have you comfy cozy in no time.”

   “Most excellent. You should come to know me as Pan, formerly Solar Andromon. And this little darling here,” Pan grins at Holly. “Is my tamer, Holly Leonhardt.”

   “Sup,” Holly says.

   “Thsupper? This early?”

   “Ah. Haha, not quite, comrade. I believe it’s a colloquial human greeting,” Pan reaches down and shakes the Gekomon’s hand. “Although, a warm meal and somewhere comfortable to rest her head would be most appreciated. Name your price and send my network an invoice through the Database. I’ll wire the bits upfront.”

   “Ohhhhhhh! A paying cuthstomer! Right this way, honored guethsts, right this way! Now then, would you prefer a canopy thsuite, a toadstool cabin, or would you perhapths enjoy staying in our treehouthse resort?”

   Pan looks to Holly for her preference. 

   “Oh, I failed to mention, the toad for the toadthstool cabin is extra, and we require a twenty percent gratuity at the end of your thstay.”

   “Wait, what? What does the toad even do?” Holly asks.

   “I’m thso glad you asked! They tell delightful thstories for hours, thsing, and belch twice an hour.”

   “Well, when you put it like that,” Holly playfully elbows Pan. 

   Pan chuckles. “Twice an hour, you say?”

   “Three, if you know what you’re doing,” The Gekomon winks. 

   Holly looks at Pan like a baby just filled its diaper while seated in her lap. 

   Pan settles himself down with a final chuckle. “I believe we’ll be choosing the Resort, seeing as it’s likely to have the accommodations we’re seeking.”

   “The Rethsort it is, then! Come, come, follow me. I’ll lead the way,” The Gekomon gestures for them to follow, and as they walk they share brief but pleasant small talk.

   They pass through the second wooden gate, this one with double doors and ringing bells. As the doors groan and push open, the village is revealed in full.

   Dozens of market stalls overflowing with wire wrapped jewelry, resin statues, delicate beadwork, baked goods, jellies and jams, loose leaf teas, and more have packed the village. Backdropping the amphitheater behind the Great Gekomon Tree rests the Gekomon’s main housing, a grove of trees with layers of wooden platforms all connected by rope bridges. Last of note, there’s a clearing to the left of the market acting as a foot court with picnic tables, a line of food trucks, and shade from the trees skirting the area.

   As they approach the resort, a grand hotel slotted into the side of their Great Gekomon tree, Pan triggers the automatic sliding glass doors and walks inside. The initial rush of air conditioning sweeps Holly’s hair back and she hums. An acorn barely misses them. It hits the doors and rolls away. 

   A Digifairy crosses their arms and frowns. 

   The Gekomon leads Holly and Pan towards the center of the lobby, stopping on the symbol of their kingdom, a mosaic of a limited edition grinning Gekomon coin. 

   “I can’t help but notice you’ve requested the bare minimum of what we have to offer. Should bits be an issue, we have in houthse financing, and I can help and see thsee if you qualify for our ShogunGekomon’s FA programths.”

  “Negative,” Pan says. “Rest assured we won’t be needing any of that. Now then, if you would be a dear and direct us to your finest suite?”

   “Oh! Thcertainly! Just one moment, please,” The Gekomon speeds off towards the reception desk. Three Gekomon behind the desk greet him, each wearing red lipstick and blonde wigs. He excitedly hops and gestures for his digital clipboard.

   Holly leans her head back and looks up at Pan like he just told the president to go piss up a rope, and the president said: Okay! And then he went and tried to do it.

   “Daddy?” Holly says sensually, like a possum in lingerie. 

   “Behave,” Pan chuckles. “Naughty one, you are.”