TDW - Black Cloud Event

         

          Greg took a moment to reflect before he stood back up. He’d come to the Digital World with Code’e because she had said that the Astra was under attack. As a member of the Astra, Greg was particularly concerned with its safety, though he would have done the same if it were the Sol or Lune in this situation. They’d only made it so far though with Code’e and Lopmon before Greg tripped over a rock, and he’d instructed her to go on without him; despite the fact that he was her boyfriend, protecting Astra was a lot more important than a scuffed knee or whatever meaningless injury he’d just sustained, and he was glad that she understood that. Besides, he’d catch up. He got to his feet and brushed himself off, then went over to check on his partner. Viximon had been thrown a small distance when he tripped, and while she was probably okay, he figured he’d check. “You alright, Viximon?” he asked. The small Digimon nodded. “Yup! Now let’s get going! We have to catch up!” she said urgently. Greg nodded and began to move forward, but a strange noise caught his attention, and he looked towards its source.

          Suddenly, a small legion of the creatures that had not yet been preoccupied with other tamers turned their attention to the pair and assembled into a coherent mass, forming a cloud similar to the large one that was the root of the problem. “Watch out!” Greg shouted to his partner, even as the dark smoke enveloped the duo. Picking up Viximon to protect her, Greg immediately tried to retreat from this new threat, but his efforts were in vain; he encountered a firm resistance as he collided with what he assumed to be the walls of the cloudy mass. Greg looked grimly at Viximon, who looked up at him with a similar expression on her face. “I think… we have to fight our way out…” Viximon stated, worriedly. Greg nodded, and placed his partner on the ground, where she kept a close eye on her surroundings. “Greg, I don’t like this,” the little yellow fox Digimon said, her voice clearly showing unease. “Neither do I,” said Greg warily. “Anything could be waiting for us in there, I have no idea what to expect.”

          Their concentration was broken by a piercing scream in the darkness. Greg looked into the darkness, where he could make out two hazy figures surrounded by a crowd of others, who were kicking at the other two. One of them was on both knees with their hands out in front of them, while the other seemed to be fighting tooth and nail to protect the other. Finally, the fighting one was knocked back into the other, and they both collapsed in a heap. As the rest of the crowd closed in, Greg heard the larger of the two figures yell – it had been the one that screamed. “No! Big brother, help!” it pleaded, and time stopped for Greg as he recognized the voice; it was Eva, she must have gotten trapped in the cloud as well. “No!” Greg roared. “Viximon, come on!” he shouted to his partner, even as he ran into the fray. “We have to help them!” Viximon found herself unable to follow him, though. Her fear of crowds mixed with her apprehensiveness about the situation, and the resulting terror rooted her to the ground. Greg didn’t notice, however; he was too focused on saving his “adopted” sister and her partner from the shadows that were surrounding them.

          “Don’t worry Eva! I’m coming!” he shouted as he forced his way through the crowd. Each shadow that he beat back dissipated back into the surrounding air, but it was only a short moment before it reformed. Greg took note of this and grimaced; it was going to be hard to fight their way out of this one if they continually regenerated. Greg finally made it to the centre and immediately crouched beside Eva, where he instantly recognized with a start what he hadn’t before: it wasn’t Eva, it was just another one of the shadows. The small shadowy facsimile of BlackSalamon dissolved into a small cloud, which merged with the shadow Eva as it stood and transformed into a much taller figure, that of an adult male. Greg looked at it warily, not sure what kind of new threat was presenting itself. Did the shadow intend to just fight him, flat out? His thoughts were interrupted when the being spoke, though, and Greg’s heart stopped briefly as he recognized the voice as one he thought he’d never hear again, except in reminiscence. “Greg, my boy, still trying to help everyone you come across? Trying to save a loved one, perhaps? We both know you’re no good at that, I’m the living proof!” he heard his father’s voice say, though its tone was contorted and inhuman. Greg’s chest tightened, and the shade grinned. “Or I guess I misspoke,” it said, as it went through the act of lighting and smoking a cigarette that it produced from within its hazy form. It looked back and forth between Greg and the small object. “Oh, is something wrong?” it asked mockingly. “You never did appreciate my habits.” Greg finally spoke. “No,” he said weakly. “No, that wasn’t my fault.” He tried to sound confident, but in truth, he didn’t even believe that himself. As far as Greg was concerned, the blame for his father’s death laid squarely on his shoulders. He should have been more persuasive, he could have presented his arguments better. But he didn’t, and the thought of the lung cancer that took his father would haunt Greg forever as a consequence.

          The boy didn’t have much time to brood, though. His false father took no time in punching him in the gut, then slapping him across the face. Greg was hesitant to fight back, though. Despite the fact that it was clearly not his actual father, he couldn’t help but wish that it was. It took another shot to the gut for him to actually react. He got to his feet and grappled with the apparition, not willing to fight harder than that, despite the fact that he could likely prevail if only he tried. It was a moot point, though; there was more than just the one shadow surrounding him, and his field of vision was quickly filled with dozens of grasping hands, claws, and other appendages, as not all of the figures had distinctly human features. He felt a blow to the back of his head, and the last thing that he heard was the haunting laughter of his father’s voice, as everything faded to black.

          Viximon witnessed this, and it finally galvanized her into action. There was a huge problem with her current situation, though. She needed Greg’s help to Digivolve; she cursed herself for that fact, if she’d been more responsible, she would have had no difficulty doing that the second the cloud engulfed them, or even when they first arrived. Either way, if she had, her partner wouldn’t be in this situation. She despaired as she realized just how much she relied on Greg. He was her protector, her primary mode of transportation, and more importantly, her best friend. He was more than willing to throw himself in harm’s way for a friend, and that included her, since he’d done so on more than one occasion. What did she do in return? Sure, she occasionally fought, but those occurrences were few and far between, she was far more comfortable in her current form, and that suddenly made her feel intensely selfish. Suddenly determined to fulfill her role in their relationship, she swallowed her fear and charged without hesitation into the throng. It seemed smaller than it had been – maybe their initial observations about the monsters reforming had been off? Or maybe Viximon had just imagined the crowd as larger due to her own insecurities, she honestly couldn’t be sure. Regardless, she paid them little mind, Greg was in trouble, and Viximon intended to protect him, the way she should have been doing all along.

          The fox Digimon made it to Greg in good time, managing to clear out several of the figures with basic attacks along the way, enough to force them to retreat slightly, but it wouldn’t last. The young man was lying sprawled across the ground of their prison, still reeling from the blow that the shadowy monster had dealt him. “Greg!” she pleaded, leaping onto her partner’s chest. He wasn’t stirring. “Greg! Greg! GREG!” she screamed, beginning to despair. Was she too late? Was her partner actually… no, it couldn’t be. Viximon felt several tears fall from her eyes before she even felt them well up. She’d failed her partner. What would she do without him? What would the others think? They wouldn’t forgive her for this, she’d just sat idly by while her partner was… she couldn’t bear to say it. She buried her face in his jacket, not caring what happened to her as the surrounding shadows began to close in slowly around her and her fallen partner.

          “Huh?” Greg said groggily, beginning to stir. He’d been unconscious for a few moments; he recognized that much, but he didn’t expect Viximon to be the first thing he saw. He felt a wet sensation permeating his jacket, which puzzled him until he noticed that Viximon had been crying. Viximon, for her part, had started crying even harder once he responded, though they were now tears of joy. “Greg, I’m sorry,” she whispered, burying her face further into his chest. Greg grunted in pain as the rest of his body began to catch up with him. He felt a dull ache in spots all around his body, signifying that they were going to bruise, and his face felt hot where he had accumulated several scrapes. He rose to a sitting position slowly, and scratched his partner behind the ears. “Viximon, we’re not out of this yet,” he said, despite the fact that his head was pounding. His partner nodded in agreement. “Roger,” she said, and Digivolved immediately, not wasting the oppourtunity. Renamon took no time in tearing into the surrounding shadow figures, fighting like a demon to keep her partner safe.

          Then, without warning, the creatures pulled back. Renamon snarled at them, warning to keep their distance, and they seemed to be obliging. …That is, until they all began to merge. Their numbers had been reduced by the slender fox’s onslaught, and they were going to risk it all in one final gambit to put an end to the two of them. The shade representing Greg’s father seemed to be the focal point of the remaining shadows, and it grew to much larger proportions, easily dwarfing either Greg or Renamon. Renamon, with her other options exhausted, sprinted forward to fight the colossal foe, but Greg voiced his apprehension. “Wait!” he cried, not wanting to relive that moment, even if he knew it wasn’t his father, only a reproduction. Renamon didn’t even break stride. “Greg, he’s already dead, you know that! Don’t let it get to you!” she shouted back at him as she closed the gap and leapt at the towering monstrosity’s head. The words hit Greg like a bag of cement, but they also snapped him out of any feeling he felt for the fake, and he wondered why he’d even hesitated to begin with. “Do it!” he shouted in encouragement, as Renamon struck. She belted the fiend across the face with her Power Paw attack, then followed up with a Diamond Storm at point blank range. The sharpened leaves shredded her target, leaving only a headless mass to fall to the ground, where it landed with an ominous thud. On contact with the ground, it immediately dissolved, though, and the same occurred to the enclosure. Meanwhile, Renamon had used the last of her energy toppling the colossal apparition, and dedigivolved to Viximon again in mid-air. Greg got to his feet and, as much as it pained him, sprinted over and dived to catch his falling partner, winding himself as his chest hit the ground. He coughed and wheezed as he recovered from the impact, which had been compounded slightly by his previous chest injuries. “Are you okay?” he asked his partner gently, ever concerned about others before himself. “I will be,” Viximon said, nodding, silently thinking ‘Especially since you are, too.’ The little yellow fox smiled weakly and nuzzled up against her partner, who had seemingly fallen asleep right after checking on her. She looked around urgently for signs of more aggressors, but it appeared that the fighting had ceased, or at least hit a lull. She moved to wake him up, but decided against it, electing instead to keep a silent vigil from on top of him, taking the time to reflect on what she had, and what she’d nearly lost.</p>