Digimon: Six Corners

[Duellist Royal]

DIGIMON: SIX CORNERS

Written by Scott D. Harris & Hikari

Chapter 1: “Another Time, Another Space”

In 2003, the world was plunged into darkness. The veil between dimensions was torn asunder by the Dark Lord Malo-Myotismon, who was met with resistance from a global network of chosen ones called Digi-Destined. With the aid of the monster’s avatar, Yukio Oikawa, he was destroyed and the veil was removed completely, allowing the Human and Digital Worlds to become one and the same, with denizens from each finding partners to live and grow with…

At least, that’s one version of the tale.

What if it was not an army, only a select few, young warriors from Japan who met the Dark Lord in the final conflict? What if, when Yukio Oikawa sacrificed himself, the barrier between the realms was sealed, restoring the nature of both and removing the events from the minds of all but those chosen Digi-Destined?

It is the year 2010, it is a world where events transpired as such, and now a new force of evil is at work in the Digital World and once more, a group of children will be selected to lend us their power.

It began one fateful Saturday in the Human World…

XXX

Shanghai, China. 7p.m.

The Shan family were fairly wealthy as far as pencil pushers go. Mr and Mrs Shan both worked in well-paid office positions and their son, Tu Shan, was likely on his way to a similar standing. Always dressed smartly and with his hair neatly cropped, he was a pillar of his fine school and highly regarded by his teachers. Even his bedroom, a 13-year-old’s sanctuary, was a perfect paragon of order and intelligence. Numerous timetables, by which he lived his scheduled life, covered the walls, accompanied by maps, charts and essays by popular geniuses from around the planet. A game of Risk was set up across a wooden table in the middle. The master of the room was seated at his computer, revising for a history test coming on Tuesday. As he jotted down notes about Fu Xi, the first Emperor of China, a rhythmic beep-beep-beep sounded from the computer terminal. Annoyed that his concentration had been broken, Tu Shan attempted to block it out, but it seemed that the more he ignored it, the louder it droned. He eventually cast his eyes down to the source of the sound. There in the taskbar was a glowing blue box.

“What on…?” he muttered as the box suddenly expanded to fill the entire screen. There was nothing to give away its purpose, only two grey squares inside marked with the words, ‘Yes,’ and, ‘No.’ It struck him to simply shut down the system but he had not yet found the chance to save his work so that was out of the question, and when clicking out of the boxes proved futile he did the only thing he could. The moment the cursor struck the first grey button, everything around him became a brilliant sea of white, pink and gold. Then he was flying, rushing, crashing, twirling through the Technicolor abyss.

Somewhere just outside El Paso, Texas. 6a.m.

As the rays of early morning crept slowly over the Wind’s Haven Ranch, a young girl returned from her morning ride on the back of a graceful strawberry-haired horse. The soft breeze played with the creature’s mane and the rider’s long hair, rippling the fine follicles like pebbles on water. Liberty Wind climbed down from the horse, gave it a thorough grooming and led it into its stall before going about a few quick chores so the rest of the ranch animals would wake up to their breakfast (as expected, a particularly feisty hen named Henrietta attempted to gorge herself and had to be restrained for the sake of the rest). At quarter-past-six, she had plonked down in front of her computer, taken the digital camera out of the rucksack in her lap and was hooking it up to the hard drive. Despite what others would call a rustic, country-bred appearance, the girl was a keen photographer with a particular fondness for nature. She hoped that her newest acquisitions would come out well once she uploaded them onto the ‘net. As she rifled through snaps of the desert wildlife, her computer started to sound out: beep-beep-beep…

Tema New Town, the Republic of Ghana. 12p.m.

The courageous night elf’s rapier clashed with the troll shaman’s deadly staff. Magical fire singed the eldritch atmosphere, threatening to shred their very essences to ribbons. Everything depended on his victory over
the forces of evil. His friends, his family, his home-

FLASH!

No! Since when did his hated enemy have the power to blind him? The valiant elf uttered a strangled death cry as the maniacal shaman blasted him into a million pieces.

Jomo Asante was usually an easy-going sort who took life’s obstacles in his stride but as he watched his health bar sink to nothing, he was almost pounding the keyboard in desperation. “No!” he exclaimed. “I was so close!” If only he had been able to power up his Sword of Never-ending Might he could have sliced his opponent like sandwich cheese.

“Jomo!” called a voice from the adjacent room. “It’s a beautiful day out there, stop playing those computer games and go outside!”

“Wait, wait, wait!” he responded quickly. “I need to revive!” As he swiftly attempted to guide the pile of ash that was his character to the nearest restoration point, the computer droned out an electronic sound and the virtual landscape was replaced by two grey buttons.

Oslo, Norway. 12.45p.m.

It was difficult to tell Thora Falkenberg’s bedroom from a fashion designer’s studio. Every surface was overlaid by posters and newspaper clippings of models, and each one had been scrawled on with notes from the pen of an avid learner. Sketches of original ensemble designs also fought for the precious little space their artist afforded them. Two mannequins (which the mistress of the room had bought cheap from a local pawn shop) stood in the cooling sunlight beaming down through the wide window, dressed in a muddle of half-finished outfits. Much like Tu Shan, who at this point was unknown to her, Thora was intensely dedicated to her interests, so much so that even now as she sat watching an online video of a catwalk show and taking mental notes, her hands were sewing together a hat of her own design.

“Owch!” she put her pricked fingertip to her lips, having been surprised by the erratic dinging of the monitor in front of her. She had been meaning to trade her old P.C. in for something more recent but her projects had eaten up so much of her free time that she just plain forgot. “Not again. What is this, a virus?” The catwalk video had frozen, obscured by two flashing options; ‘Ja,’ and, ‘Nei,’ or translated for purists, ‘Yes,’ and, ‘No.’

Hesitantly, she pressed, ‘Yes,’ for fear that the other option would rouse an explosion of vulgar pop-ups. It seemed like today was the day the old machine would finally roll over and die.

Shoeburyness, England. 12p.m.

The bedroom of our next subject was once a spacious basement but since the Shepherd family had moved in it had become a veritable techno-dungeon. A precarious hodgepodge of gizmos, gadgets and gubbins smothered the computer desk and the floor was barely visible beneath a blanket of magazines, books and leaflets which had been carelessly strewn to-and-fro. Russell, eldest child of the Shepherds, sat at his computer with one hand typing with almost inhuman speed and the other holding an ultra-trendy mobile phone with all kinds of useless functions to his ear, chattering away in a self-invited language of gibberish and broken slang. Loud music thumped out of the hi-fi system so it was a wonder he could hear the person on the other end at all. Suddenly, the computer rang out a beeping that drowned out the electro-pop cacophony which almost knocked the whiz-kid out of his chair.

“Hold up, Skiggsy,” he said and set the mobile down beside a piece of silver Heaven-knew-what as two boxes faded into existence on the liquid plasma-screen. In a flash of light he was pulled out of his position and it was beginning to look like Skiggsy would have to ‘hold up,’ for quite some time.

Corfu, the Greek Islands. 4p.m.

It was a strange thing to just leave lying there on the edge of the shore touching the expansive Bay of Garitsa; a rose-coloured beach towel was spread over a flat rock and sitting on that was a laptop computer, the screen flashing away frantically for attention. A seagull came to investigate but a burst of colour dispatched the terrified creature. The owner of the laptop broke the surface of the water and brushed the matted hair out of her face before slipping her goggles up onto her forehead. The erratic display caught her attention and she swam back to the shore. As she dried herself off, she bent down to inspect the situation. She mumbled to herself quizzically as she moved the cursor around on the screen until finding something clickable. She saw no viable reason to ignore what she realised was an unavoidable message and motioned her acknowledgement.

XXX

When the girl opened her eyes, she was standing on a beach. Not the beach she had been standing on a mere moment ago, but a different one. One with sand that was impossibly white and stood stretched between a frothy ocean and a colossal forest. Above her was a sky of soft pink festooned with yellow, orange and pearly alabaster. The sun was invisible but she could feel its radiant warmth all the same, flirting with the tropical chill of the water around her bare feet. A little way up the beach she heard voices and went to see who else had joined her on this alien world. There were four other people around her age; two of whom stood at the edge of the sand and not saying much and two who were actively conversing.

There was an African boy with short hair, dressed in a simple lime-coloured shirt with short sleeves and a paisley pattern, red shorts and sandals. Next to him was a girl who strawberry blonde hair in a braid and big, beautiful blue-grey eyes, whose elaborate outfit consisted mainly of denim over a white shirt decorated with images of horses, accentuated by beige hiking boots and a grey cowboy hat. She could not see the other two so well, but one was a boy wearing glasses and smart clothes and his companion was a very tall girl dressed in the height of fashion. The swimmer girl wanted to break the silence but someone else did it for her.

“I HATE NATURE!” a scratchy voice with an Estuary accent squawked as its possessor came charging down out of forest. At first she thought it was a tumble of foliage, but then she realised that it was a short, stocky figure wearing wide, eye-shield sunglasses and camo togs. He charged past the African boy and the Texan girl and almost slammed right into her. “The nature’s all over me! Get it off!” He skidded to a halt, kicking up a small cloud of grit just inches in front of her. After all, he had come face-to-face with a slender, olive-skinned figure with wavy, chocolate-coloured locks, deep brown eyes beneath the blue goggles perched on her brow and wearing only a rosy one-piece swimsuit. Rendered to a point of word-stock that was barely above spluttering, he raised a shaky hand to point at her and, not quite sure what else to say, spoke these words: “You’re all wet.”

“Nice deduction, city-boy,” scoffed the cowgirl in a fashion begetting her appearance. Ignoring the glare the short boy was giving her, she slipped off her jacket and handed it to the swimmer. “Here, don’t wantcha catchin’ cold, hon.”

“Well! Isn’t this nice?” said the African boy, clapping a long arm around both girls’ shoulders and so hard was this embrace that their knees came close to buckling. Like the others he had a thick, distinctive accent but was otherwise perfectly coherent. “Now! While I’m all for trips to the beach, does anybody know where the Heckle-n’-Jekyll we are?”

“Heckle-n’-Jekyll?” the swimmer asked, confused.

“Congratulations, your ears work,” the African grinned.

“I’ll tell you where we are,” snorted the boy in the camo jacket. “A nasty, horrible, sandy spit of land and I want to get out of here as soon as possible.”

“As much as I hate to agree with slick,” said the cowgirl, “I got chores to be getting’ on with ‘fore I get in a heapa trouble.” She then added quietly to herself. “Wherever we are, it sure ain’t El Paso.”

“You know what I find strangest?” remarked the bespectacled girl on the shoreline, who up until now had been silent. They could all see now that he was of Asian descent. He gestured to the tall girl, who was a true thing of beauty if ever there was one. “Ms Falkenberg here tells me that she has never learned another language, and neither have I, yet we understand each other perfectly.” He paused to wipe his glasses with his handkerchief.

“I have a feeling we will be together for a while, so we should introduce ourselves. I am Tu Shan, from Shanghai.”

The one he had referred to as ‘Ms Falkenberg,’ took a hairbrush from her pocket and preened her platinum hair before introducing herself in a pleasant and collected manner, “I am Thora. I come from Oslo. That’s in Norway, if you weren’t sure.”

The African boy took his arms from around the two girls and spread them for emphasis, declaring loudly, “Well it’s a great day for making friends, ain’t it? They call me Jomo, Jomo Asante, but Jomo for short of course! Oh, and I’m from Ghana, that’s in Africa but you guys knew that! Am I right?”

“Oh, great, a chatterer,” the camo-wearing boy groaned and started to shamble away from them. The swimmer stood in front of him before he could get too far and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, don’t go so soon,” she said. “It’ll be better if we stick together. My name’s Cascadia, but you can call me Cassie. I’m from Corfu. What about you? I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t give it,” the short boy grunted and shrugged her off. “Whatever. My friends call me Russ, but to you lot I’m Russell, awright? Why don’t you make Doris Day over there join in this little name game you’ve got going?”

“Well, hope the rest of ya’ll ain’t so rude,” the cowgirl huffed, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jeans while scuffing a booted foot against the sandy ground. “Name’s Liberty.” That elicited a loud snort and a round of laughter from Russell, who dropped to his knees as if he heard the world’s funniest joke. “What’s so funny?!”

“A fla…!” Russell had to clutch his sides and force himself to speak again. “A flaming Yank called ‘Liberty’?” More laughter, and the rest could see steam issuing from the butt of the jape’s ears. “I hope to goodness your surname’s not ‘Bell’!” With a furious cry, Liberty pounced on her quarry and started beating him mercilessly with her hat.

“It ain’t like I got a choice in the matter, shrimp!” she spat.

“AWK! Mad woman! Someone get her off me!” he protested. Cassie superimposed herself between them, holding each of the brawlers back with one hand, which proved to be a tougher task than she imagined. Whatever chores they did in El Paso had given the cowgirl muscles like a horse! They were growling at one another like baited dogs and it took all of Cassie’s (and then Jomo’s, who believed the odds required evenings) strength to keep them from slugging it out to a second round.

“Knock it off you newlyweds,” said the dark-skinned boy.

“For the sake of argument, why don’t we just call you ‘Libby’?” Cassie suggested once they had achieved a degree of calm.

“Fine. Do what ya’ll want,” Libby huffed, dusting off her hat and jamming it back on her head.

“Look what I just found in my pocket,” said Thora, holding out a small, square device that was very much like a wristwatch. It was a glistening cyan colour, with three green buttons around its digital screen, which was currently glowing lightly but was not displaying anything. The other five quickly checked their pockets and found similar devices; silver for Cassie, maroon for Jomo, brown for Russell, orange for Tu Shan and gold for Libby. All of them were glowing but not doing anything particularly helpful. When the lights died, Tu Shan turned his over in his hand in a futile attempt to find the battery compartment while Libby opted for the much less subtle method of shaking hers violently.

“Ya’ll think these doo-hickies are dead?” she asked.

“What a bloody waste of time!” Russell growled and chucked his own device into the ocean.

“Why don’t we go look for any landmarks that’ll give us a clue to where on Earth we are?” suggested Cassie. Tu Shan contended that it was doubtful they were even on Earth anymore and proceeded to point out the unusual colours everything had taken on, not missing a single one, even taking time to point out the sea green clouds and patches of bronze in the ivory sand. They noticed for the first time that even though it felt like daytime, the horizon was dotted with stars. All in all, their surroundings had become a bizarre exhibition of polychromasia. Once the six children were finished marvelling at this, they set off into the woods because it seemed to be the only way forward. Liberty and Jomo were scouting ahead and bringing up the rear respectively, the latter of which became more important as night eventually fell and strange growls echoed through the trees.

“Better watch your back, Sundance,” Russell sneered, giving Liberty a sharp nudge in the side with his elbow. “Wild animals like the taste of meat and correct me if I’m mistaken, but isn’t that about 90% of a Texan’s daily diet?”

“Go stick yer head in a beehive, small-fry,” his companion growled. They would have started arguing if not for a loud and very hungry-sounding roar that shook leaves from their branches.

“P-p-please tell me that was one of you guys,” Thora stuttered. All of them shook their heads in unison and ran screaming into the shadows. A heavy sniffing and snorting was heard and a multitude of burning eyes surrounded by orange smoke from the belly of the underworld opened in the ebon. The creature roared again and thundered towards them, growling and howling all the way. There were times when it seemed to be mere inches behind them, when they could smell its foul breath on the backs of their legs. Thora actually jumped when she was certain it was about to bite her. The children ran until their pursuer apparently veered off and they were too tired to go on, and once they had slowed to an exhausted trudge, they were of good enough fortune to locate a cave. They quickly gathered some dry wood and with the aid of a lighter Libby carried in her rucksack, started a fire. Outside their new shelter, the warmth had been utterly drained from the world, replaced by a bitingly cold wind that felt like chilled knives against their skin. Jomo stared out into the forest, hugging himself.

“I’ve never heard an animal like that,” he said, “and to think, there are loads more nasties hiding out there.”

“We should be safe in here, for now at least,” replied Tu Shan. “I think we should take turns on guard duty, though. Two awake while the other four sleep, changing over every couple of hours. What do you all reckon?”

“Not much choice, mate,” responded Russell with a subtle shake of his head. He was doing his best to hide it from the others, to maintain some vestige of dignity, but there was no disguising the fact he was just as scared of this hostile land as they were. He pulled the hood of his jacket up over his head and curled up as tightly as he could, watching the dancing flames through half-open eyes. I hate this place, he thought to himself. I want to go home.

“I’ll take first shift,” said Jomo.

“Me too,” added Libby. “Whatever it is out there, I doubt it’ll attack a fire. The animals back home don’t…usually anyway.”

Tu Shan nodded. “Then the rest of us should try to get some sleep,” he said. With that, he slipped his glasses into his shirt pocket and made himself comfortable against a smooth portion of the cave wall. What you must understand, dear reader, is that were it not for how weary they all were after running from the monster, the sounds of the wilderness would have kept them awake all night and while it was a brave effort on their part, Jomo and Libby joined their friends in slumber, so none of them knew that early the next morning, six more creatures – all of whom were significantly smaller and less threatening than the ferocious fiend of the forest – decided to join them.

“Look, there they are,” whispered one.

“I think this one’s mine,” chirped a second.

“Keep your voice down,” hushed a third, “that’s mine right next to yours.”

“We almost lost them back there,” mumbled a fourth.

“Good thing we found their footprints,” noted a fifth.

“They’re waking up,” a sixth indicated. Cassie was the first to be roused from her sleep and found herself staring into two luminescent green circles. It took her a moment to realise that they were in fact huge compound eyes and sprung to full alertness with a gasp, scampering back up against the wall. There, standing in front of her, was something very much like a large, blue beetle. It stood on two legs like a human and probably reached her chest in height. It wore a faded yellow scarf around its neck and the large clawed fingers on its four arms clicked rhythmically.

“What is this thing?” cried Thora, who had apparently encountered a monster of her own; a pale seal cub with a flash of orange hair on its round head. The girl’s cries dragged the other children back to consciousness.

“What are you screaming ab…?” Russell’s voice faltered when he saw two black marbles above him, staring down from beneath the wide cap of a violet mushroom wearing plum-coloured gloves and boots.

“You dropped this,” said the mushroom, holding out the brown wristwatch he had previously thrown into the bubbling alien sea. Russell squeaked and almost fainted. Across the cave, Tu Shan and what looked like a floppy-eared Labrador puppy were sizing each other up, both deep in concentration. Standing in front of Jomo with its paws clasped behind its back was a smiling lion cub wearing an iron headband. When he had touched its wavy brow and ensured it was real, he shook Libby, and her gaze fell upon the flickering flame of a living candle. What went through her mind was this: I must be dreaming. What came out of her mouth was this: “You’re not gonna sing at me, are ya?”

The blue beetle offered its hand to Cassie, who understood that it was a gesture of friendship and accepted. As if on cue, the six creatures chorused, “Welcome to the Digital World!”

“That sounded very rehearsed,” remarked Tu Shan after a pause.

“Well, you’re weird,” the lion cub tittered.

“Don’t be rude,” Libby scolded. “So, are you six rascals the welcomin’ committee?”

“You could say that,” said the living candle, “but you could also say we’re like your combined tour guides and life insurance, too.”

“Totally free, of course. That’s how generous we are,” added the mushroom. “Come on, chummy, up you get.” He pulled Russell into a sitting position. The boy’s face was glazed over in dumb astonishment. Completely and utterly unresponsive. “Well, aren’t you just the great conversationalist?”

XXX

Just outside the mouth of the cave, in the first ring of trees, two mismatched eyes – one red and one green – watched the scene unfolding with great interest. The little spy lifted a dark green box to his mouth and pressed down on the button on the top.

“Boss,” he said into it, trying to keep as quiet as possible so he would not give himself away, “you won’t believe this, but those Digimon you wanted me to keep an eye on? They just ran into a buncha humans. You want I should deal with ‘em?”

“No, Dracmon. Just keep following them and maintain regular contact,” growled the throaty hiss from the communicator. “If they prove to be a hindrance, we will dispose of them accordingly. Is that understood?”

“Uh, right, Boss,” said Dracmon. He lowered the communicator and focussed not two, but four malicious eyes on the twelve strangers.