UAN: This is what I might consider v. 1.0002 of Vector. A little minor editing should be the objective here along with little tweaks made to the plot just to make sure it's all coherent. It's not good to have an incoherent plot, since the plot's what drives a story after all (besides character, I mean.) I left the original notes to make sure I don't forget anything to mention or anything. One MAJOR mistake I made was the Pentagon's location, which is actually in Arlington, Virginia, across the Potomac River from Washington D.C. With that settled, we can carry on with the ever so slightly revised story.
AN: Now the idea here is that I originally planned to start writing this AFTER I finished the Network Security series, but apparently, I'm willing to do just about anything to get back into writing. My pet rabbit, Josher, is currently running around my back yard as I type this note, and the time is 4:06 AM in the morning. Damn, I should really get some sleep. In any case, as with any first chapter of majority of my stories, this one is just a feeler, and is damned short. I don't know if I'm writing clichéd stereotype characters here, but most probably, yes… hell should I know! The reason of my being unsure is because I haven't even been able to see the first two seasons… It would've been nice enough had I seen the Tamers Movies, but nooooo, I had to stick to the series! Anybody know where I can buy a copy? In any case, I hope that the Digivolution concepts, at least, are original enough. I do recall, however, seeing Crest and Egg or something like that in the small peeks I've done into the first two seasons… Correct me if I'm wrong, anyway. Now, this is probably going to be hard to find since I won't put it under any character categorization (i.e. Char 1: Takato M., Char 2: Ruki M.), so I suggest that if you plan to be notified that I've uploaded another chapter, for you to put me on your author alert lists. You're also probably wondering what 'The Epsilon Installment' is supposed to mean, or whether it makes any sense at all. The logic here is simple… I got tired of seeing 'Digimon Season 5' as the title for almost EVERY 'Season 5' fic I've read, which sums up to… 3… 'The Epsilon Installment' is just a cooler, or maybe jargon term for 'Season 5', since technically, epsilon is the fifth letter of the Greek alphabet. As for the 'Vector' part, you'll see soon enough. First off, I'm also tired of goggle boys. Aren't you? why don't they ever make goggle girls? Well, I hope this one's good enough. My close associate, newbi, defines a goggle boy as a stereotype asshole of a leader, and since, technically, girls are 'smarter' than boys, a goggle girl would hopefully be smart enough not to make the same mistakes as all the goggle boys out there. If the ideas in this story sound similar or even match the concepts in yours, then I'm sorry to bust your ready-to-sue-me bubble, but I brainstormed on these all by myself, thank you. If that answer is still not enough to satisfy your bloodthirsty bubbles of suing, then perhaps I should ask you to think for one second that it could be one big coincidence that we were thinking about the same thing as we typed our fics. The Digimon Game concept is probably the most clichéd here, and I'm terribly sorry that I couldn't think of anything more original than that in order to get a bunch of kids into the Digital World. Technically, though, it's not the game that takes them there, although something similar. Thank you again.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Digimon in this story (most of them, anyway). Just about everything else, however, belongs to me.
Ed-i-fy (ĕďĕ-fi') tr.v.–fied, -fying, -fies. To instruct or enlighten so as to encourage moral or spiritual improvement. [Middle English edifien, from Old French edifier, from Latin aedificāre, to build, instruct.] (The Grolier International Dictionary, 1981)
Warehouse 15, Bandai Corporation International Distribution Center, Outskirts of Washington D.C.
June 2, 2019 - Sunday, 0015 Hours, EST…
"Sir, we've got him cornered!" several men in black combat gear, wielding standard US Army weaponry stormed into the shipping crate alley from whence the said transmission originated. This procedure was completely black op, and thus, nobody else except the Directorate's higher-ups knew of this event's taking place. They filed up behind another two of their team mates, totting all their armaments and assorted ordinances at the bug-like creature that cowered in a corner of the dead end, shaking violently out of utter fear, if not shame.
Captain Bradley Stormwell looked at the insect-thing with utter contempt in his eyes. Its hideous form alone disgusted him, moreover what trouble it had given him and his team. He'd lost three men that night, all falling prey to its deadly attacks, as well as to those of its comrades, who, by this time, had all been eradicated cleanly and efficiently enough. "Where did you hide the discs?" he asked it with a chilling lack of emotion. When the creature didn't answer, he gave it a good strong kick in one of its shins and repeated the question with renewed force, "Where did you hide the discs?"
Still no reply as it continued to cower. Stormwell shook his head, half because of pity and half because of irritation, as he drew a sidearm, specially modified to injure this creature and all of its kind, and shot its leg. The impact caused it to screech horridly as the said limb began to lose structure, rust-colored particles and rainbow colored streams of data code flowing out of and away from it every now and then, until finally, the leg vanished altogether. "Now tell me… Where did you hide the discs?"
Miraculously, more specifically, to somebody who was uninitiated into this kind of knowledge and lifestyle, it spoke, its voice gruff and hoarse, probably due to its injury, or simply because of its inferiorly evolved vocal cords, "I don't know what you're talking about…"
"Tch…" Stormwell snorted in exasperation and shot another one of its five remaining limbs, that one disintegrating into its purest form, rainbow-colored strips of data, with countless particles of the same color as their owner orbiting them. "I'll ask you one last time, you worthless concoction of rotting data code… Where did you hide the discs?"
The creature continued to writhe in pain, its mandibles chattering in what appeared to be a slow, pained rhythm… Stormwell flinched in disgust at the pathetically pitiful sight. Here was a Champion Level digimon, a heavily armored one at that, cowering in a corner, squirming its eyes out… wherever they were, that is. All that was left in requirement to make it resemble a common, petty criminal who was cornered was for it to begin begging desperately on its knees (all 4 of them) for mercy. Well, what could one expect? The Directorate's Avalon Team was the one team that really struck fear into the enemy, the one team that everybody else envied; the best of the best of the best… well, compared to teams Becton, Chevron, Davion, and all the others, that is. "It's useless to try milking this scumbag for information it's not willing to give out…" the Directorate Agent concluded, "After all, it appears to be only an underling, and nothing more." Stormwell turned around to walk away, pausing in a half step, "Erase it…"
He half smiled as streams of gunfire erupted from assorted rifles' muzzles, the hapless digimon screaming in agony as the Data Code Buster (DCB) bullets penetrated its protective carapace, reducing it to its primordial form. A serene expression found its way to his face, a sense of content at the execution of this fiend. Not because of the trouble it had caused him this far, however, but what its kind had done to him in the past. "This, and every other dead digimon, is all for your sake, Linda," he whispered as he began to hear ringing.
The Avalon Team Leader tapped on his commlink earpiece, establishing contact with the Directorate's Headquarters inside the Pentagon. "Sir, we've tracked the thief down to Bandai's International Distribution Section. It was a digimon… Didn't have the discs on it, though… I'm betting it hid 'em somewhere in this warehouse that's…" he tipped one of the crates over to see its contents. Case upon case of CDs programmed to contain Bandai's latest project, an Online RPG designed to house thousands upon thousands of players on a single server similar in map design to the Digimon Multiverse's Digital Worlds, spilled out and scattered on the floor, causing a racket enough to wake the dead, or in the case of D&D fans, undead. What was the game called, you ask? The title was simple enough: Digimon Online. "Full of discs…" Stormwell finished his statement, a sinking feeling welling up inside him.
"I can see your point…" the voice on the other side replied in an accent somewhat similar to those of mafia leaders, dons. To be more specific, something like the godfather. It was cool, collective, and somewhat suave at the same time, suppressed to the point that it was coarse in quality. "Well, you've done everything you could on your part, Stormwell. Go home and get some rest."
"Yes sir." Stormwell turned to his men. Being a former member of DEVGRU (SEAL Team 6), he was used to all the ruthlessness that was involved with the job, and his recruitment into the Directorate merely felt like a reassignment. What Directorate was he assigned to exactly? Knowledge of its existence was highly classified, and was known only to a few of the Pentagon's Top Brass, specifically General Gregory Freeman, who indirectly supervised its operations. It was the Directorate that was placed in charge of monitoring and protecting all of the United States Government's property in cyberspace and all other conceptions related to it, the Digital Defense Directorate (DDD). "Alright, boys. We've done all we could. Get a cleanup crew in here and we're done. Now move it!"
Unbeknownst to them, however, a silhouette crouched above the top of the crates, spying on their progress, a long, silken tail waving behind its form as it silently continued to observe. As DDD's Avalon Team vacated the premises, so too did the mysterious figure, seemingly darting out of existence as we know it. Somewhere amongst the piles and piles of discs inside the vast warehouse, seven glowed somewhat ethereally, clearly different from the rest in terms of covering and quality, almost as if calling out to whomever was out there, waiting for that specific person to take them and use them, eager to unleash their inherent and unlimited power…
Guild Master's Chamber, Kazek' faleil Cell – The Guild, Somewhere in London
June 2, 2019 - Sunday, 0536 Hours, AST…
Crack… that was the sound that echoed throughout the vast, ornately decorated, and not to mention, dark, gloomy chamber, its only source of light some torches on the walls that failed to shed their glow on the oak desk and comfy chair that rested at the end. What had broken, exactly? It was nothing more than the delicate golden brown body of a Graham Cracker, which, obviously, from its name alone, was designed to crack. This one was of the honey-flavored variety, bringing sweetish and wonderful delight to its devourer, a mysterious man who sat in the said comfy chair and desk, chewing his favorite treat quite meticulously. The cracker's source came in the form of even more Grahams lying prettily on a silver saucer that rested on the left side of the desk, as though they were a bunch of chicks relaxing on the beach on a hot summer's day.
He had sent some of his best men… digimon, rather, to ambush the Digital Defense Directorate's convoy in order to retrieve those discs that he had coveted for so long. The Directorate was transferring them from their secret laboratory underneath the Pentagon to a much safer location, currently unknown to even he, with his vast network of spies inside the United States' Intelligence Community.
It had been those darling, precious discs that he had desired all this time. Not only were they capable of generating a stable gateway into the infinity that was cyberspace, that gate was also capable of generating more than enough energy to outclass the combined annual output of every nuclear reactor on the planet at least a trillion times over in a single second of its own energy release. This said energy has been theorized by researchers, both acclaimed and not, to be capable of triggering instantaneous transcendence towards a higher form of existence, although the sudden burst of evolution would most likely be highly unstable, if not stable yet temporary.
Soon enough, they would return and bring the long awaited prize into his presence, the power of a god, to be more precise. He would then become the most envied of all 13 Guild Masters, as well as the biggest candidate for replacing the old, vegetative, and practically dead leader of the Seven Wise Men, thus gaining the highest position in the Guild without having to break a sweat. He continued to chew his Graham, savoring its wondrous, lavish essence, his tongue playing around with all of the marvelous, tantalizing sensations it gave. Yes, he thought. Soon, I shall become the Grand Wiseman. It is then the world shall fall to its knees at the very mention of my name…
So it was at this exact moment, that his name was indeed mentioned… at least, his name in the Guild, rather, by a figure that had seemingly materialized out of thin air in front of his desk, its voice calm and feminine, "Guild Master Thak' Rhazhad… I bring urgent news concerning the situation with the discs…" Judging from the tail that lazily swayed behind her (one could assume from the voice that it was indeed a she), as well as the slim, vulpine build, this certain figure was hardly close to human.
"Ah, Renamon…" the Guild Master, Thak' Rhazhad as he was called, smiled darkly, the light reflecting off his perfect teeth being the only thing above his shoulders that wasn't concealed by the darkness around the desk. His semi-athletic body was wrapped up in a green suit coat, yellow shirt and blue tie underneath. He took another Graham from the saucer and bit it, chewing in a way that seemed somewhat menacing to the digimon that kneeled on a knee in front of him, head bowed. "And what kind of news might this be, hmm? Is it about the party's estimated time till arrival?"
"Actually, sir…" she paused somewhat nervously, in doubt of what she should do: please him by lying and being punished later, or being honest and begging for another chance to work it out. She had seen many perish in this very chamber due to her master's flaring temper that was always seemingly so delicately balanced that if you tipped it one way, it would result in a catastrophe, and if you tipped it in the other, it would shower you with reward. Surely, she would expire eventually in one way or another, and it was best to show the Guild Master that her loyalties indeed lay with him. To sum it up, she opted for the second scenario, "I'm very sorry to say this, but… Kwagamon's Unit was wiped out. He did manage to hide the discs inside a warehouse, though…"
"Warehouse?" that single word, compounded with the Guild Master's current tone, which showed that he was definitely displeased, was more than enough to send chills up Renamon's digital spine. "What… kind of warehouse?"
"Bandai Corporation's International Distribution warehouse… the place where they store discs before shipping them off to retail facilities around the world…" To her, 'world' meant either one of two things: the Planet Earth and the nations on it (pretty much everybody's definition), and cyberspace, which, by her standards, was far larger compared to the first meaning. She had spent her first five years there, In Training, lost in its infinite size that always seemed to get bigger. Over the years, cyberspace had expanded to the approximate size of nearly two exebytes, quite a large number, and impossible for a simple-minded human to imagine. The things she did to stay out of that place probably ranged from the most sensible of things to the maddest concoctions of the mind. "Forgive their incompetence, master," she added, trying to set apart her position from that of theirs.
"I see…" he chewed on the last of his Grahams rather harshly, as if trying to vent some of his escalating anger onto the little treats that were now tasteless to him because of his mindset, "And what do you expect me to do to you?" His gnawing seemed to become more grotesque by the second, another sign that he was getting very annoyed, besides his last statement.
"Thy desire is what I yearn for, master." Renamon could feel it… she could feel him seething at this moment, utter rage inside him preparing to explode at any second. A hand touched her… his hand, powerful in structure, more than enough to snap her neck in two if he wanted to. She felt the fingers trace her face all the way down to her chin. This is it, she thought. My life is over… She braced herself, heart racing wildly, for the sudden violent and swift grasping and snapping of her neck, which… didn't come. Instead, the hand remained at her chin and lifted her face to meet his own, azure eyes looking up into what she imagined to be a burning shade of red, although it was covered in the veil of the shadows. Something was in that movement that seemed to calm her down from her alerted state… reassured her… told her… that everything was all right.
"Renamon, Renamon, Renamon…" the Guild Master's voice was calm… cool… almost kind. His fingers wandered upwards to caress her left cheek… softly… gently… soothingly… She was beginning to like this. A warm and fuzzy feeling was already building up inside of her, cheeks beginning to flush. Her heart began to race once more for some reason, and she couldn't explain why.
"Master…" Over the years since Renamon had been summoned by the Guild, abruptly taken out of the Digital World for reasons unknown, she had been nurtured and cared for by none other than him. He was hard at times, but she had grown to respect that side of him. He was only human after all, and was incapable of remaining sane without releasing his anger at things, lashing out. Her eyes closed, just delighting in his touch… That was when his hand stopped and drew back, returning to the side of her face in a slap with enough force to make a homerun had her head been a baseball. She was taken aback by the unexpected violence, eyes suddenly wide open, head facing her extreme right, a strange, liquid heat going down the left side of her mouth. She brought her three-fingered right paw's equivalent of an index finger to touch the hot fluid and withdrew it to see her pure white fur stained with living crimson.
The fox digimon looked up to her master in a daze of disbelief, sensing that his mood had changed dramatically. It was as though his invisible eyes were now staring… glowering… scowling… at her. "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, COMING IN HERE WITH SUCH UNWARRANTED NEWS!?" his British accent now stood out, easily adapted to his outburst. "YOU OF ALL MY AIDES SHOULD KNOW THAT I HATE BAD NEWS!"
Tears began to well up in her eyes as word after reprimanding after insult was ejected from his mouth and into her pointed ears. She may have respected his explosive nature, but that didn't mean that she remained unaffected emotionally by it, especially after being stroked in such a manner that she felt as though she were in a spa, getting a massage, which, she never got. Renamon began to sob rather uncontrollably, calmed down only by the sudden loud ringing in her ears caused by a suppressive gunshot into the air.
As his subordinate's attention was turned to him, instead of her own petty feelings, the Guild Master put his sidearm back on the desk and calmed down, somewhat. "You know how much I need those discs, Renamon… how much we need them." He came to a resolution, "I shall give you another chance… but be wary. My patience draws thin. I want you to find those discs and bring them back as soon as possible. Now take this." he removed a ring with the Kazek' faleil Cell's signet from his finger, symbol of his influence, his power, and handed it over. "You know very well how a Guild Cell's signet ring symbolizes its Guild Master's authority. You now have permission to use mine."
Renamon was dumbstruck as she accepted the mighty crest and clumsily slid it onto her finger. In her right mind, she could not possibly accept such a privilege. No, she was too humble to do so, and was content to be Thak' Rhazhad's executrix as long as she was allowed by the forces of balance to survive another day in this human-infested world. Right now, however, she was not in her right mind, since, technically, she was still in shock from what had just ensued.
"Now go and utilize all that Kazek' faleil has to offer. You have seven days to bring me those discs, and if you don't succeed…" he scraped some of her coagulating blood off her face and rubbed it in between his fingers as if emphasizing what he was evidently foreshadowing, "You know what will happen to you…"
It's not like I have much of a choice… Renamon bowed yet again, as she phased out of this reality and into the next.
In the meantime, the Guild Master had brought out another pack of Grahams from the inside pocket of his coat, and laid them out carefully on his silver saucer, throwing the empty plastic wrapper into the garbage bin that sat beside his comfy chair. Today was going to be another one of those days. Maybe he was going to ask another of his lowly servants to bring him a cup of Joe… After all, it was nearing dawn, and he hadn't had a wink in 36 hours. He picked another of the luscious snacks from the dish, looking at it almost lustfully as he brought it to his invisible mouth and bit down on it. He smiled as he heard his favorite sound. Crack…
Director's Office, Digital Defense Directorate Headquarters, Sublevel 7 – Arlington, Virginia
June 2, 2019 - Sunday, 0251 Hours, EST…
Disappointed… that was exactly how the Director felt as he skimmed the report concerning what had ensued earlier. The convoy was moving out of the country to bring the discs to their safe house somewhere in Canada. Unfortunately, it would appear that it was ambushed by a group of hostile digimon, who were apparently intent on gaining possession of the discs. Why did they? It wasn't like they had the technical knowledge to utilize Project: Causeway's untapped and unlimited power. They had to have an employer of some kind who would most probably be powerful… rich at the very least, and had some motive to do so.
To get closer to the point, though, one would wonder why he was disappointed. It was all because of the incompetence of the three search and retrieve units that have been sent into that warehouse to locate them. Thus far, they had failed to accomplish their objective. He flicked open his green Johnny Walker lighter and pushed down on the ignition toggle, flame and fumes rising up to burn the copper lump that was positioned there to cause the fire to turn to the color matching its source. He stared at it for a few moments, wasting precious butane as the grass-colored combustion burned on, and finally brought it to make contact with the waiting tip of the cigar in his mouth.
A short flash later, and he was puffing his miseries away. Christen Khimes as he was named… the Director as he was known… but most importantly, Sir, as he was called, shut his lighter and placed it in his suit's left breast pocket, placing his sunglasses back on. Stormwell had no idea how lucky he was, getting to live the exciting life while his boss rotted away in his high position. Sure, he had control of two squadrons of F-22 Raptors, three F-117 Nighthawks, Stealth Fighters, as they were commonly called, a dozen Blackhawks, Comanche Stealth Choppers, Apaches, and other assorted military aircraft, but they were never really used. The same went for ground vehicles such as Humvees, Crusaders, and even some prototype Paladins, but who cared? It didn't even matter that he was in control of Directorate Strike Teams Avalon through Zephyron, which consisted mostly of SEALs and Delta Force Members, former or not. Like was said earlier, they were never really used.
Khimes puffed yet again, savoring the flavor of the Cuban tobacco, a real Ybañez if he'd ever tasted one… A soft knock on the door disturbed his only short period for 'quiet' time, not literally, but more of in a state of mind. He smoked to calm himself down, to get rid of all his problems, which was quite an effective method depending on the brand and quality of his smoker… Cigars were his favorite, although pipes would suffice if necessary. Cigarettes, however, were out of the question. After all… research stated that much more people died of cigarette smoking in the last ten years alone, than the total amount of those who smoked cigars and pipes in the last century. Speaking of centuries, it had been six years since the centennial celebration of the birth of human flight. I wonder how Wilber and Orville would feel if they saw all these gorgeous babies that I've got in the Directorate's hangars… undetectable by radar at night… able to carry soldiers to their destinations in minutes… capable of breaking the sound barrier…
Descended from a very little known mafia clan that seemed to prefer doing more 'good' than 'bad', he was determined to stick to the pride of his family name. Although it didn't sound Italian, Khimes was merely an Americanized variation of Kim̃eterchi, which obviously sounded more Italian… The DDD Director puffed one last time, sticking the live end of his cigar into the crystal ashtray on his desk, along with all of his worries. He was calm now, feeling much better, ready to face whatever stepped through that door… "Come in…"
A somewhat lanky man in a business suit gingerly pushed the door open and stepped in, somewhat nervous since he knew the Director's demanding prerequisites for their salary. "Um… sir… we just got a call from General Freeman and Dr. Boyd… They want to know how the search for Project: Causeway is going."
"And what did you tell them?" Khimes replied, his strange mix of Brooklyn and Italian a little hard to understand for the untrained ear. "You could've most probably made up an extremely long story that would've irritated the bastards to the point that they would just let us go on with our God-forsaken lives… or something like that. It's not like Project: Causeway will end up in the hands of some kids who'll mistake them for the copies of some dumb computer game, or anything. It's more likely that Bandai would detect the discs during a pre-distribution test, label them as defective, and burn them all to hell…" (AN: Pretty much getting the picture?)
Mister Lanky scratched his head and thought of the best way to tackle this situation. How could he tell the Director of what he did in response to the call? "Actually, sir, if you watched the four o'clock yesterday, you would know that Bandai plans to start distributing those warehouses' contents to various stores around the world this morning… If that happens, we'll never be able to track them down to wherever—"
"Nonsense, McCullough," the Director interjected, "Fact is: I want those discs to go global. That way, we can all go on this nice little worldwide Easter Egg Hunt, with the competition being whoever the shitty hell ambushed our convoy and tried to steal them…" He looked at McCullough as if he was answering an unasked question about whether or not the Director had flipped his lid. "It's time I got some action around here, and this is just the exercise my overly bored brain needs. Get each shipment of discs that leaves that warehouse its very own spy satellite. That way, we'll be able to track their progress overseas."
"But what do we do once they get to the stores? Once people start buying, we'll never be able to track them down any further…" McCullough always took his boss' orders seriously, although he sounded like he was merely joking around sometimes… Even though the order was ridiculous, he followed it down to the letter. Good ol' obedient McCullough, 'Director's Pet', as they liked to call him, always following orders without even questioning their sanity, moreover moral applications. This time, however, the orders were beginning to sound a little too farfetched.
"Take it easy, McCullough…" Khimes remained cool, "I've got it all figured out. Using our advanced satellite-tracking prowess, track down every person who leaves those shops down to their houses, catalogue their addresses, and once those discs run out of stock, all we have to do is kindly ask those who bought some if we can examine their copies. It may take a lot of time and a lot of work, but that's what makes an Easter Egg Hunt… Get Agent Esteban to head the operation. I want each of those discs to have at least one transmitter on them… Something like a simultaneous raid on stores worldwide who have them and bugging all of the copies." Finally, he had a chance to use all of the useless junk that the Pentagon was supplying them with for no reason at all. It was all going to be used for a good purpose as well, so nobody was going to complain.
"As you wish, sir," McCullough nodded and left the room quietly, leaving the man of the hour, so to speak, alone to himself, his lighter, and his cigars.
Khimes opened his cigar box and took out another, pulling his drawer open, trying to pick another one of his Johnny Walker lighters, all the same in design (some vague impression of a guy in a suit and bowler hat with a cane strolling down the street with the label 'Johnny Walker') yet differing in color. Blue is the color that brings peace in all aspects, they say… He took out a blue version of his lighter and flicked it open, igniting the mineral, causing its flame to turn a deep shade of dark blue as he brought it to his newly mounted cigar, yet another 35-dollars-each Ybañez, and began to smoke once more. "Yes sir, it's gonna be another one of those days…"
Kaira Residence, Chuo Ward, Asuka, Tokyo (Hey, I gotta change the locales from Shinjuku sometime, don't I?)
June 2, 2019 – Sunday, 1812 Hours, PST
"Bandai's latest addition to the still lively Digimon craze, started over two decades ago by its creator, Akiyoshi Hongo, is a Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game entitled Digimon Online, similar in style to the still alive and kicking Ragnarok Online, which was first launched internationally by Gravity Inc. in 2001." Tomome Kaira sat, eyes transfixed on the TV screen as the host continued to give a preview on the game's features, which were tested by 'Videocrit', a popular Video Game Critique show, which was what she was watching at the moment.
"Awesome graphics and character designs based on what is surprisingly not those from the 7 previous games, but instead on characters from the so-named anime, give quite a different feel to it, especially if you've created a Guard Tamer who looks like Tai, or a Bit Huntress who looks like Henry's sister, Suzie." The screen showed recorded clips of different groups of character sprites resembling assorted Digidestined/Tamer/Chosen Child characters running around, doing different things, like blowing up/beating the crap out of/killing assorted digimon, doing 'business' in city streets, and even, much to Tomome's surprise, 'dating'… "Hey, why the hell is Davis with Zoe!?" the geek-glasses-nerdy host complained, "They're two seasons apart, for Christ's sake!"
Her name, as a whole, was Tomome Ashley Pearson Kaira, the American part of which, she just didn't feel fit with. Why her parents decided to give her the second name 'Ashley', was a complete mystery… one that dealt her some embarrassment at school, or at play. It probably had to do with the fact that her mother was an American who married her father here while she studied Japanese Technology. What a time to have children, she thought. "The 12 available jobs and 3 type classes, namely Vaccine, Data, and Virus, make for a total of 36 unique character classes alone, moreover hundreds of different builds and skills for each, allowing boundless opportunity to… um… abound. This style of gameplay gives you the insights that Hongo had failed to place into his hit anime series, not to mention the chance to use a hell of a lot of unique skills, and of course, Digimon." Yet again, the screen showed more clips as the host continued to babble on, this time, of gigantic and colorful explosions implied by the narration to be character and/or digimon skills.
"Whether your pipsqueak tenderfoot character 'grows up' to become either a crafty Bit Hunter, a skillful Spirit Captor, or a rowdy Knight Tamer, is entirely up to your taste. Right now, though, my 'Kouji-style' Debugger is telling me to rate this beautiful work of art, a titanic ten out of ten." The last clip shrunk down until it was bordered by a screen with Videocrit's motif, the bottom portion showing the figure 10/10. That was all that could be shown before Tomome, Tomie as most called her, killed the TV set.
"Only twelve more hours, and they're going on sale!" she squealed with delight as she relieved her troubled shoulder-length sky blue hair of the burden of housing her not-so-matching purple goggles. She seemed to be so hooked onto that franchise that she'd been wearing those things since she was eight. Tomie ran up the stairs and into her room, placing the said eyewear onto the table beside her bed as she ripped her socks off and practically allowed herself to fall on the sheets (Take the Nestea Iced Tea Plunge!). She reached for a jpeg printout on the said table, looking up into it almost dreamily from her sunken-into-bed position. It was a picture she downloaded when she was younger, more naïve, childish, whatever you want to call it, containing a certain boy with dirt-brown hair, amber eyes, and a pair of yellow goggles on his head.
"Ta-ka-to Mat-su-ki…" she slowly read the caption at the bottom, pronouncing each syllable as properly as she could, almost savoring them for some reason. She sighed as she placed the picture back from where it came from. 'Tamers' was the first season she saw, and was hooked onto it since episode one. Sure, the graphics were nothing compared to today's shows, but there was something in it that just… grew on her. After she finished the entire DVD series, Digimon had become her passion, denoted into obviousness by the goggles. She checked out the first two, and the four others that came after Tamers. None were the same at all. None of them grew on her, even though the graphics were so-said to be better, even though the characters seemed deeper, even though the plots were even more twisted… there was something missing in all that.
"I just wish I knew what was missing…" As her eyes closed, her mind began to wander and her thoughts began to talk in a somewhat confusing manner. That way, I could finally watch the whole seven cartloads of milk and become a true patriot by getting stuck on ice… Although she was thinking incoherently, this was simply because of the fact that she was practically asleep, tired from the whole day's worth of studying and of course, checking out the nearest cybershop for updates concerning anything related to Digimon, more specifically, the price rate and release date of Digimon Online, which happened to be the next day. She swore to herself in her dream, that she would be the first person in the neighborhood to get her hands on a copy… and that, she would do anything to accomplish…
To be continued…
AN: Well, there you have it… my feeler. Questions you probably have are: WHY THE HELL DID YOU MAKE A GOGGLE GIRL ANYWAYS!? Does she have a crush on Takato? Or maybe, Are you gay? Answer number 3: NO, I AM NOT GAY… I just think Digimon needs a change of style once in a while. I mean look, we've got four brash, annoying BOYS who wear goggles as if they were trying to point out that they were the best… the leaders… the cream of the crop… the girls always end up saying, "SAVE ME!" or, "He's too strong… can't beat him…" or shit like that. How's about giving the opposite sex a chance to go, "You shall be destroyed by the power of our friendship!" or crap like that. Answer number 2: What do you think? I'll let you be Tomie's judge. Answer number 1: Technically, it's already been answered by Answer number 3… My description of Tomie was probably too vague for you, ne? Alrighty, then… picture an 11-year-old Meia Gisborn (vandread) with her character design 'digimonized'. Getting a picture? Good. Now imagine her with purple goggles instead of that evil black bind she wears all the time, a white printed shirt with a chibi Guilmon on it, open royal blue jacket, green slacks, purple rubber shoes, and there you have it. A strange yet somewhat cute concoction of my twisted mind. Any further questions are to be sent to my email address, which is conveniently placed in my profile. Thank you for reading, and please review! Sorry yet again if this thing is so typical of a plot that it's predictable. I'm just dying from lack of ideas these days.
Up Next (hopefully):
"Gate Key Three: Engaged," Patterson announced, "Trying to zero in on the disc's tracking signal, Doctor."
"Zis cannot be good!" Dr. Boyd exclaimed as Gate Key Three's emblem, a rifle, materialized on the Observation Center's main view screen, "Phoject: Causevay vill only vuhk phopehly if za discs ah in za same vicinity und activatud simultaneously!"
"What'll happen if they're not activated simultaneously?" Springer inquired, obviously unfamiliar with the experiments that have been done regarding the discs.
"Gate Key Seven: Engaged. Satellite tracking systems are a go, we are searching every continent on the planet right now." A pair of bat wings lighted up, symbol of the seventh key.
"Ve tested ze discs vonce befoh, Sphingah, und za fohtex zat vas genehated vas highly unshtable, lashting foh no longah zan five sechunds." Boyd was now in a panic, portrayed quite perfectly by his nearly incomprehensible German accent.
"Gate Key Four: Engaged," a Grandfather clock lit up this time, "We've got a lock on the first one…"
"Zey ahun't evun being activatud in za cohhect ohdah!"
"Gate Key One: Engaged," a white Coat of Arms came into view, "We've confirmed the second one…"
"What about if they're not in the same area?"
"I haf no idea, alzough I supphose za gatevay vill hahdly be shtable…"
"Gate Key Five: Engaged," an Ace of Spades popped up, "Signal number three is being tracked…"
"Well, what if both proper operational requirements are wanting?"
"Gate Key Two: Engaged," a samurai's traditional sword, the Katana, spiraled onto the screen, "Gate Key One's location has been tallied."
"Za effects vill mosht likely be dishasthous… whatevhah zey ah, zough, veah about to find out…"
"Gate Key Six: Engaged… Project: Causeway is going online…" A crimson sphere, appeared on screen, connecting in some way of another to all the other six as a message appeared on screen.