((OOC: If this is coherent, then miracles exist.))
Marion Anderson and Strabimon
Underground DSA Headquarters, Meeting Room
Apparently, the presenters had not heard Strabimon’s request for more information, as the short one continued on to say, “I know you would not disappoint us.” Hua smiled at his audience and fished out several cards, which Marion suspected were the identification cards for members of the DSA. There were quite a few, and he thought that Hua had been rather a bit too confident in creating one for each prospective member, but he supposed that being prepared was preferable to not having the cards ready.
“This is your DSA identification,” Hua said as he passed around the cards, “You should keep it with you throughout the period of working for us. With this card you can open any doors or gates inside the headquater base within your power, and also to open your personal locker. When your rank is elevated, we will provide you with new ID card.” Marion poked at his own card, wondering how one would raise their rank. He was not particularly interested in doing so even if it held extra benefits; he was content with his privileges as they were. Strabimon took a look at the card as well, but it was not especially interesting to it.
Hua shut the monitor off and said, “Now everyone, you may want to check the locker room and your personal locker. Your uniforms and badge are inside, so you might want to put them on. Feel free to discover the headquater base as you wish and get yourself familiarized with the place while waiting for your Digivice to be configured. Please report back to this room to collect your Digivice in an hour.” Marion was curious as to where the locker room was, but he supposed that an hour was enough time to locate it and did not worry about it too much. “Everyone, welcome to the team,” Hua said, as everyone left.
“Marion, would you like to explore this place before changing?” Strabimon asked, as they walked out the door together. It was carrying the package of snacks.
Marion thought about it as the pair moved away from the crowd to a place along the wall where they would not block anyone’s path. ’I would not want to make a bad impression by being late to pick up my Digivice, so it would probably be most time-efficient to head to the locker room before traveling around the rest of the DSA.’ He then remembered that he had an hour to complete that task, so he could, potentially, slow down. ’We do have an hour, but I would rather play it safe.’ Glancing at the backs of the people leaving for what he suspected was the locker room, he said, “Strabimon, it might best to go to locker rum—I mean room, sorry—before we try to explore the DSA.”
“Alright.” The pair was confused as to where to go, so they followed the gaggle of other recruits. Some lagged behind and Marion was content to walk at their pace.
Locker Room and Hallway
The other male recruits were already dressing and chatting with their Digimon when Marion arrived. One seemed to be vain, complimenting himself on how good he looked in uniform, with his partner reminding him that everyone else would be dressed in the exact same style of clothing. He quickly got into an argument with another recruit about the gender of his Digimon partner. Marion was not exactly sure what gender or sex Strabimon was, but he considered that unimportant in the scheme of things—so what if it was male or female? It would not change his relationship with it.
Realizing that he was standing in the doorway, looking like a rather stunned girl, he walked in shyly. He was aware that he sometimes looked as if he were a girl; he had used this to his advantage before, as people (who were attracted to girls) often bent to a pretty girl’s will. Of course, this batch would know his identity, so he could not trick them.
Marion quickly located his locker, which was on the end of the row of lockers, used his ID to open it, and removed his uniform. He picked out what he supposed was the outer piece of clothing, held it aloft, and questioned whether Fumichi’s weather really necessitated an over shirt. All the same, he started to strip himself. Strabimon disappeared for a second and returned with a towel. The digimon held the towel in such a way as to hide Marion.
“Marion, you’re changing in a room full of strangers,” Strabimon said, still holding the towel, and the arguing that came from a few lockers down further convinced Marion that Strabimon was not being over-protective. Marion nodded and tried to change as quickly as he could.
After he was dressed in his new clothes, Marion rushed to get out of the room as quickly as he could to avoid any further arguing. In the meantime, Strabimon tied the DSA scarf around its waist, as it already had a scarf around its neck. He had, he thought, about forty-five minutes until he had to retrieve his cellphone from Hua and Aldrius. He thought a bit and said to Strabimon, “Strabimon, they never answered your question about the abilities of the enemy Digimon, yes?”
“Yes, but as long as I can keep you safe, it does not matter,” Strabimon responded. “Do you intend to explore the DSA in the time that we have left?”
“I would like to, but where do we go?” Marion said and thought about it. If he headed off into a place where he was not supposed to, then how much trouble would they get into? “Would she—sorry, meant should we—search for a library?”
“It’s your decision, Marion.” Strabimon was okay with nearly anything that Marion suggested, except for socializing. It desired to keep Marion dependent on it, so that it would never be left again.
They pair spent the next forty minutes looking for the library, but it was futile; their efforts, in vain. As they could not find it, they decided to head back to the meeting room in order to receive Marion’s cellphone; finding the meeting room was easier than finding the (probably non-existent) library. Marion received the cellphone-turned-Digivice graciously, and departed. He would await further instructions.
As the DSA had told Marion’s parents that he went to Japan to study, they had to provide him with somewhere to live. His living quarters were small, but he did not mind as he did not need much space in the first place. It seemed as if it had been meticulously cleaned every day, which it was, but it was easy, for Marion was usually fastidious. He was not bored, as he could venture out into the city and quickly become engaged in something interesting, like the library. Learning Japanese was not as difficult as he had thought it would be once he got the hang of reading the radicals in the kanji (or course, he could always look them up by radical), yet nearly everything else eluded him. Compared to his normal life, this was sometimes more and sometimes less exciting, but, at least, he had a purpose. The others at the agency mostly left him to his own devices, so he could sleep past noon and eat lunch at three in the afternoon, luxuries that he did not have at home.
As Marion was practicing his hiragana, his Digivice began to beep, so he put down his pencil. He had kept it on or near his person at all times, as one could never know when it could come in handy. And, besides, he had to answer the phone when his parents called. Flipping it open, as it was one of those cellphones that were affectionately dubbed “bricks”, Marion read the message. On the bottom he noted that it said that it was an optional mission, as the Digimon was not immediately life-threatening.
“Strabimon…I just received a mission,” Marion said, unsure of whether to accept or not. He had agreed to help the DSA, yet he felt unready; he knew that going along and being unable to perform would be more dangerous for the group than staying behind.
Strabimon, who had been napping on a chair, was startled and woke up suddenly. It muttered something under its breath about whiplash and walked over to Marion’s desk. “Oh? Well, do you want to accept it? If you do, I promise you that I will protect you.”
“What if I’m the one who holds everyone back?” Marion’s insecurity was having an ugly resurfacing.
“Don’t worry, Marion, I’ll do everything that I can.” Strabimon was slightly annoyed that that Marion was veering toward whining, but it wanted him to become even more dependent on it. “I’ve some experience fighting in the Digital World.” Confident in its abilities, Strabimon was sure that it could fight well enough to protect Marion.
“Of course, so just press accept,” Strabimon said, patting Marion’s shoulder, which might have assuaged his fears had it not finished, “I will kill your enemies, so think of this as practice.”
“What? Kill?” asked Marion, even as he typed his acceptance. He was a bit stunned that the kind and gentle Strabimon could kill someone, or something as it happened to be, but he knew nothing about its past.
“Ah, I meant protect you…if it requires killing, then so be it.” That still did not mollify Marion, so Strabimon quickly read the message, leaning over the Tamer’s shoulder. It said, “It seems as if the Digimon is merely mischievous, and not malicious, so we can probably capture it without returning it to a Digiegg.” Those were not meaningless words, for Strabimon was reluctant to show its vicious side to Marion, and defeating the Digimon without killing it would be an opportunity for it to reinforce the idea that it was peaceful rather harmless.
“Oh, well, we’d best be toworff—off toward, sorry! Off toward the meeting room.” By being artificially cheery, Marion hoped that he would banish the thought that Strabimon would kill out of his head. It did not work. ’What if no one is at the meeting room and we are supposed to go somewhere else?’
Heading toward the meeting room, the pair walked in silence. Neither wanted to bring up the subject.