KaiserMyuu
Hug a penguin!
The screech of blasts tore the warm afternoon air, echoing off the rocky hillside. A man, dressed in a green tunic that fell to his knees, his legs covered in matching trousers beat his way through. His leathis boots clomped against the ground and his gloves shielded his masked face, blue with crimson eyes and a dog-like nose, with yellow fangs showing from his mouth. He had a protective scarlet cape, matching the hair that came out of his mask, covering a heet of white hair. The man underneath the mask murmured through clenched teeth, "I hope I'm not too late!"
God Emperor Alphamon had received a message from a far off village that a group of bandit digimon had intercepted a stolen set of ‘secret weapons’ that were probably stolen from the same shady digimon that had been plundering small villages. However, one of these bandits, not agreeing with his fellows took these weapons to rightfully hand them over to Alphamon.
The courier had been scheduled to arrive the evening before. When he did not, Baronmon was dispatched to look for him. Word of a 'secret weapon' was too serious to risk the messenger getting lost.
He had scouted the southward paths all morning without success. Then it occurred to him that if a scout were trying to sneak in something to the Supreme Beings, they might try the east trail, which wound its way through a wide canyon at the foot of the mountains.
The sound of laserblasts and hoarse shouting affirmed the masked one's fears; the courier had been spotted by the othis bandits. Once these bandits had been a mountain defense band, but they had found highway robbery more profitable than fighting villains. Hence the reason few ventured to use the east trail anymore.
He hovered silently over the canyon, a silhouette against the afternoon sun, keen eyes sweeping the ground. Four figures were crouched on the canyon's rim, and three more were sliding down the sloping wall toward a lone crumpled figure in the road below. He was too late.
Enraged at himself for being so slow, and fearful lest the bandits loot their victim, he folded his cape and dropped with a hideous cry upon the thieves on the cliff. They fell on their faces in terror, trying to point their weapons toward their attacker. He kicked aside their weapons, followed by firing a small chunk of stone and fire on one of the bandits.
The other bandits on the cliff fled in opposite directions. The three who had reached the canyon floor saw Baronmon and made a break for it, as well. One dashed toward the fallen courier, probably intending to carry off what booty he could. Baronmon saw him, leaped off the cliff and glided. The goblin digimon yelped and fled down the ravine, deciding instead to save his skin. Their footsteps faded into the distance, and quiet returned to the canyon.
A few minutes later Baronmon returned, panting, hands stained crimson that began to quickly evaporate as the bandit dissolved. He was sorry he had not killed all the bandits, the thieving scoundrels. He walked to the courier. He was a goblinmon as well, but with darker colorings and yellow hair, along with a different set of clothing.
He rolled him over for a look at him. To his surprise his eyes opened and his gasped, "Are you Baronmon?"
"Yes," he replied. "Lie still. You're bleeding very badly." He had been
shot in the thigh and the side of his chest. His backpack was lying
nearby, so Baronmon grabbed it, opened it and pulled out a belt. This he cinched tightly around his leg as a tourniquet. The chest wound, however, was more serious; he was likely bleeding internally. The goblin struggled for a breath and gasped, "Did they get the weapon?"
"What did it look like?" Baronmon asked, looking around for a
gun, bomb or sword of some sort.
"The basket!" hissed the goblin in pain.
A wicker basket the size of an ice chest lay among the rocks a short distance away. Baronmon loped away, picked it up and carried it back. It was neither light nor heavy. Curiously he undid the catch and opened the lid a crack. The tips of several eggs protruded from tightly packed straw.
The masked being locked the catch and set the basket next to the
wounded goblin. "This has…digi-eggs in it," he told him. "Where's the
weapon?"
The goblin stroked the side of the basket and did not answer
for a moment, smiling. "That's it," he muttered at last, and sank to the
ground, dead.
* * *
"Eggs?" Impmon said in disbelief.
Baronmon had appeared fifteen minutes earlier, carrying the large basket. He set down the basket in the marble room, gave a quick bow of his head to Alphamon, then set off.
Impmon and Cyberdramon, curious, turned to each other before running over to Alphamon.
They found the metal being beside the basket, reading from a stack of stapled papers. He looked up with a smile as the rookie form of the man-demon barged in, the ultimate form of Goldramon behind him. "I figured
you guys would show up soon."
"What's that?" Cyberdramon asked, pretending to ignore this and
lowering himself beside the mysterious basket.
"Is it the secret weapon?" Impmon snarled, preparing to smash open the basket.
"Don't do that!" Alphamon hissed. "Yes, this is the weapon, although it isn't at all what you, I or anyone else for that matter expected. Take a look before you blow this basket to oblivion."
Impmon obediently flipped open the basket, and the three gazed
at the eggs packed in the yellow straw. "Eggs?" Impmon announced
in disbelief. "That's it? Where's the bomb?"
"Maybe that's it!" Cyberdramon exclaimed, trotting up and touching
the basket "Maybe they're--you know, Apocalymon eggs or something like that."
"Close," Alphamon said, paging through the stack. "Do any of you remember what a digidestined is?"
"A digidestined?" Cyberdramon said, looking up suddenly. "Oh! Imp,
remember that dysfunctional Japanese kid?"
Impmon's eyes brightened. "Yeah! And these are digidestined eggs? Cool!
Can I have one?"
"Hey pipsqueak, I get first pick!"
"No use getting greedy," said Alphamon peaceably. "And they aren’t digidestined eggs. They’re digimon eggs for the humans that are coming here. Nobody here gets their own." He looked down at the papers. "It says that the way you hatch them effects how they turn out. And these will hatch in a few hours." Alphamon paused a moment, eyes scanning the page. "But we're supposed to put the eggs in different environments as
soon as we get them."
"Cool," said Impmon. The reason why he wasn’t in his mega form was because it easier to manuever in this form, and there wasn’t a meeting or battle yet, so there was no need to be a Mega. He and Cyberdramon were already unpacking the eggs. Each was the size of a football. The shells were speckled with all sorts of different patterns, but were just about the same with the exception of a different symbol on each of them.
"Are you sure these are all plain old digimon eggs?" Impmon asked, holding one up.
"The documentation says so," Alphamon replied. He took it from him and turned it over in his hands. "Each of them house a different ‘plain old’ digimon. They’re all eggs, but they have different colorings," he said, setting it down among the others.
"Impmon, grab a pot from the kitchen below and fill it with water. I want to see how these eggs are different, so two of these eggs have to soak."
Impmon departed at an eager run.
"Cyberdramon, grab two eggs and put them in your room's windowsill, and keep the window open wide. Two have to sit in the sun until they bake."
Cyberdramon took an egg in each of his claws and looked at the remainders. "What about those?"
"Those," said Alphamon with a sigh, "stay in a cool dry place until they hatch."
It was the afternoon in the house of Xian Rakoth, where the aroma of hot dogs began to waft around, with Xian’s stomach mournfully empty. His parents were out, and he had been holed up in his room, clicking around on his computer and filing a complaint to one website that had removed a rather gorey picture. In fact, his room was covered in posters of creatures of all sorts, and his own drawings of anime characters with huge guns and swords, covering up his more bloody pictures from his parents.
Eventually, he had realized that he couldn’t last forever in his room, so he carefully crept out, figuring a hot dog or two would fill his stomach.
As he boiled the meat, for a brief, fleeting instant he wished he was outside with other people, chattering, and be experiencing companionship. He shook his head as if to clear that thought. The only person he ever really liked was his late grandfather, not caring much for his other relatives.
The alarm on his stove went off, signaling the hot dogs were ready. He poured out the water in the pot before picking them up, placing the two hot dogs into buns before sitting in his stool, each hand holding a hot dog. He would need his strength if he was going to walk down to the train station.
A rain drop fell down. Then another. Xian glanced at the stormy sky. It was a spectacular storm, the kind no self-respecting person wants to be out in. The trees above his head rustled and hissed as the wind tossed them, young leaves tearing free and fluttering down. Lightning shot across the sky, rending the darkness with an instant of heavenly glory. Thunder followed half a second later, rattling every bone in his body. No, no self-respecting person wanted to be in a thunderstorm at all.
A storm out in this area was dangerous. Lightning could strike trees, limbs could break in the wind ... there would be no refuge for him. He
would have to run very quickly to the train station if he was going to survive.
Suddenly it began to rain. Huge drops splattered down in a torrent, the sort that all but drowns anyone in its path. Xian
paused for a moment, looked about him, then took to a jog. He was usually inside, and had never been outside in a rain storm, having
little experience with them. He had usually assumed that it would not
harm him.
He continued to run, beginning to despise rain. It got all over him, it made him wet, and cold...
His boots clomped against the ground, as he took to quicker paces, until he saw the large steel building that was the train station. He smiled to himself, knowing that he would be safe from the rain in here. There would be no one else, as the train station was usually abandoned on weekends, no one traveling around.
The door slid open, and he walked inside, shaking out the water from his hair. It was so quiet that the droplets of the water echoed as they splattered on the ground.
He chuckled, spinning around on his heel before he continued on his way to the central area. There was no one here...then it hit him. Wasn't this place closed right now?
He turned around, leaping to the door. It didn't slide open. He pushed it, kicked it, slammed himself against it, but to no avail.
"Crap..." he announced, his voice continuously echoing. Was this a prank? He was locked inside...like everyone could enter, but no one could leave. Snarling, he turned around, and glided away. He would hang around in the arrival and departure station, hoping some one would come for him.
It was empty as well, with only eight tracks leading to eight tunnels, a set of vending machines set aside, along with a few benches set beside them. Xian shuffled off to the benches. He seated himself in the wood, relaxing his head against the wall.
"Whoever's out there...I'm here. And I'm waiting." he said, before he looked up to count the tiles on the roof. "One...two...three..."
God Emperor Alphamon had received a message from a far off village that a group of bandit digimon had intercepted a stolen set of ‘secret weapons’ that were probably stolen from the same shady digimon that had been plundering small villages. However, one of these bandits, not agreeing with his fellows took these weapons to rightfully hand them over to Alphamon.
The courier had been scheduled to arrive the evening before. When he did not, Baronmon was dispatched to look for him. Word of a 'secret weapon' was too serious to risk the messenger getting lost.
He had scouted the southward paths all morning without success. Then it occurred to him that if a scout were trying to sneak in something to the Supreme Beings, they might try the east trail, which wound its way through a wide canyon at the foot of the mountains.
The sound of laserblasts and hoarse shouting affirmed the masked one's fears; the courier had been spotted by the othis bandits. Once these bandits had been a mountain defense band, but they had found highway robbery more profitable than fighting villains. Hence the reason few ventured to use the east trail anymore.
He hovered silently over the canyon, a silhouette against the afternoon sun, keen eyes sweeping the ground. Four figures were crouched on the canyon's rim, and three more were sliding down the sloping wall toward a lone crumpled figure in the road below. He was too late.
Enraged at himself for being so slow, and fearful lest the bandits loot their victim, he folded his cape and dropped with a hideous cry upon the thieves on the cliff. They fell on their faces in terror, trying to point their weapons toward their attacker. He kicked aside their weapons, followed by firing a small chunk of stone and fire on one of the bandits.
The other bandits on the cliff fled in opposite directions. The three who had reached the canyon floor saw Baronmon and made a break for it, as well. One dashed toward the fallen courier, probably intending to carry off what booty he could. Baronmon saw him, leaped off the cliff and glided. The goblin digimon yelped and fled down the ravine, deciding instead to save his skin. Their footsteps faded into the distance, and quiet returned to the canyon.
A few minutes later Baronmon returned, panting, hands stained crimson that began to quickly evaporate as the bandit dissolved. He was sorry he had not killed all the bandits, the thieving scoundrels. He walked to the courier. He was a goblinmon as well, but with darker colorings and yellow hair, along with a different set of clothing.
He rolled him over for a look at him. To his surprise his eyes opened and his gasped, "Are you Baronmon?"
"Yes," he replied. "Lie still. You're bleeding very badly." He had been
shot in the thigh and the side of his chest. His backpack was lying
nearby, so Baronmon grabbed it, opened it and pulled out a belt. This he cinched tightly around his leg as a tourniquet. The chest wound, however, was more serious; he was likely bleeding internally. The goblin struggled for a breath and gasped, "Did they get the weapon?"
"What did it look like?" Baronmon asked, looking around for a
gun, bomb or sword of some sort.
"The basket!" hissed the goblin in pain.
A wicker basket the size of an ice chest lay among the rocks a short distance away. Baronmon loped away, picked it up and carried it back. It was neither light nor heavy. Curiously he undid the catch and opened the lid a crack. The tips of several eggs protruded from tightly packed straw.
The masked being locked the catch and set the basket next to the
wounded goblin. "This has…digi-eggs in it," he told him. "Where's the
weapon?"
The goblin stroked the side of the basket and did not answer
for a moment, smiling. "That's it," he muttered at last, and sank to the
ground, dead.
* * *
"Eggs?" Impmon said in disbelief.
Baronmon had appeared fifteen minutes earlier, carrying the large basket. He set down the basket in the marble room, gave a quick bow of his head to Alphamon, then set off.
Impmon and Cyberdramon, curious, turned to each other before running over to Alphamon.
They found the metal being beside the basket, reading from a stack of stapled papers. He looked up with a smile as the rookie form of the man-demon barged in, the ultimate form of Goldramon behind him. "I figured
you guys would show up soon."
"What's that?" Cyberdramon asked, pretending to ignore this and
lowering himself beside the mysterious basket.
"Is it the secret weapon?" Impmon snarled, preparing to smash open the basket.
"Don't do that!" Alphamon hissed. "Yes, this is the weapon, although it isn't at all what you, I or anyone else for that matter expected. Take a look before you blow this basket to oblivion."
Impmon obediently flipped open the basket, and the three gazed
at the eggs packed in the yellow straw. "Eggs?" Impmon announced
in disbelief. "That's it? Where's the bomb?"
"Maybe that's it!" Cyberdramon exclaimed, trotting up and touching
the basket "Maybe they're--you know, Apocalymon eggs or something like that."
"Close," Alphamon said, paging through the stack. "Do any of you remember what a digidestined is?"
"A digidestined?" Cyberdramon said, looking up suddenly. "Oh! Imp,
remember that dysfunctional Japanese kid?"
Impmon's eyes brightened. "Yeah! And these are digidestined eggs? Cool!
Can I have one?"
"Hey pipsqueak, I get first pick!"
"No use getting greedy," said Alphamon peaceably. "And they aren’t digidestined eggs. They’re digimon eggs for the humans that are coming here. Nobody here gets their own." He looked down at the papers. "It says that the way you hatch them effects how they turn out. And these will hatch in a few hours." Alphamon paused a moment, eyes scanning the page. "But we're supposed to put the eggs in different environments as
soon as we get them."
"Cool," said Impmon. The reason why he wasn’t in his mega form was because it easier to manuever in this form, and there wasn’t a meeting or battle yet, so there was no need to be a Mega. He and Cyberdramon were already unpacking the eggs. Each was the size of a football. The shells were speckled with all sorts of different patterns, but were just about the same with the exception of a different symbol on each of them.
"Are you sure these are all plain old digimon eggs?" Impmon asked, holding one up.
"The documentation says so," Alphamon replied. He took it from him and turned it over in his hands. "Each of them house a different ‘plain old’ digimon. They’re all eggs, but they have different colorings," he said, setting it down among the others.
"Impmon, grab a pot from the kitchen below and fill it with water. I want to see how these eggs are different, so two of these eggs have to soak."
Impmon departed at an eager run.
"Cyberdramon, grab two eggs and put them in your room's windowsill, and keep the window open wide. Two have to sit in the sun until they bake."
Cyberdramon took an egg in each of his claws and looked at the remainders. "What about those?"
"Those," said Alphamon with a sigh, "stay in a cool dry place until they hatch."
It was the afternoon in the house of Xian Rakoth, where the aroma of hot dogs began to waft around, with Xian’s stomach mournfully empty. His parents were out, and he had been holed up in his room, clicking around on his computer and filing a complaint to one website that had removed a rather gorey picture. In fact, his room was covered in posters of creatures of all sorts, and his own drawings of anime characters with huge guns and swords, covering up his more bloody pictures from his parents.
Eventually, he had realized that he couldn’t last forever in his room, so he carefully crept out, figuring a hot dog or two would fill his stomach.
As he boiled the meat, for a brief, fleeting instant he wished he was outside with other people, chattering, and be experiencing companionship. He shook his head as if to clear that thought. The only person he ever really liked was his late grandfather, not caring much for his other relatives.
The alarm on his stove went off, signaling the hot dogs were ready. He poured out the water in the pot before picking them up, placing the two hot dogs into buns before sitting in his stool, each hand holding a hot dog. He would need his strength if he was going to walk down to the train station.
A rain drop fell down. Then another. Xian glanced at the stormy sky. It was a spectacular storm, the kind no self-respecting person wants to be out in. The trees above his head rustled and hissed as the wind tossed them, young leaves tearing free and fluttering down. Lightning shot across the sky, rending the darkness with an instant of heavenly glory. Thunder followed half a second later, rattling every bone in his body. No, no self-respecting person wanted to be in a thunderstorm at all.
A storm out in this area was dangerous. Lightning could strike trees, limbs could break in the wind ... there would be no refuge for him. He
would have to run very quickly to the train station if he was going to survive.
Suddenly it began to rain. Huge drops splattered down in a torrent, the sort that all but drowns anyone in its path. Xian
paused for a moment, looked about him, then took to a jog. He was usually inside, and had never been outside in a rain storm, having
little experience with them. He had usually assumed that it would not
harm him.
He continued to run, beginning to despise rain. It got all over him, it made him wet, and cold...
His boots clomped against the ground, as he took to quicker paces, until he saw the large steel building that was the train station. He smiled to himself, knowing that he would be safe from the rain in here. There would be no one else, as the train station was usually abandoned on weekends, no one traveling around.
The door slid open, and he walked inside, shaking out the water from his hair. It was so quiet that the droplets of the water echoed as they splattered on the ground.
He chuckled, spinning around on his heel before he continued on his way to the central area. There was no one here...then it hit him. Wasn't this place closed right now?
He turned around, leaping to the door. It didn't slide open. He pushed it, kicked it, slammed himself against it, but to no avail.
"Crap..." he announced, his voice continuously echoing. Was this a prank? He was locked inside...like everyone could enter, but no one could leave. Snarling, he turned around, and glided away. He would hang around in the arrival and departure station, hoping some one would come for him.
It was empty as well, with only eight tracks leading to eight tunnels, a set of vending machines set aside, along with a few benches set beside them. Xian shuffled off to the benches. He seated himself in the wood, relaxing his head against the wall.
"Whoever's out there...I'm here. And I'm waiting." he said, before he looked up to count the tiles on the roof. "One...two...three..."