|Digimon: Down Under
Author: Tom from Down Under PM
The brave Australian digidestined have begun their quest to hunt down the infamous Shadow. But are they ready to face the common dangers of the Digital World? Criticism welcome.Rated: Fiction T - English - Adventure - Chapters: 9 - Words: 23,899 - Reviews: 14 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 10-29-07 - Published: 09-02-06 - id: 3136855
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Digimon: Down Under
It was pure luck they all survived the crash. The caravan had bounced down the rocky terrain, at speeds usually only attempted by fighter-jet pilots, its occupants had been thrown around like empty coke cans. They were saved from serious injury by the vast amount of pillows, cushions, and mattresses that were also being tossed around. So when the Digidestined regained consciousness most of them had suffered only cuts and bruises. Pitmon, however, was not so lucky.
Tim picked through the wreckage and was beginning to think that Impmon's idea of eating Patamon alive was not such a bad thought, when he found his digital counterpart lying among a mass of warped metal. Pitmon was breathing short, sharp breaths while clutching his leg just above where an unmistakable shard of bone was poking through his black furred skin.
Tim felt slightly faint at the awful sight, but a sense of urgency overrode his disgust. His friend was in pain and needed help.
"Oh god," Tim breathed. He didn't know what he was looking for when he began to search around him; a phone, a stretcher, a first aid handbook, a paramedic. Damn it! Where was an ambulance when you needed one?
"It's okay, Tim, it's just a broken leg. I'll be fine," Pitmon reassured him through obvious pain. Tim knelt down and held the digimon by the shoulders. He didn't know what else to do. Vaguely remembering that Marcus had completed some sort of first aid course, Tim began calling for his human friend while comforting Pitmon (and himself) at the same time.
Marcus arrived followed by a slightly dazed Impmon who was clutching an empty looking bag that usually held food. Moving Tim out of the way, Marcus examined Pitmon's wound. He explained to Tim that the best thing to do was splint the digimon's leg.
"I need you to find a piece of wood or metal we can use, about the same size as his leg, maybe longer," Marcus instructed. Tim didn't move, he just stared at the injured leg as if it were some sort of monster.
"Tim, move! We don't have much time!" The urgency and authority in Marcus's voice broke the other boy's trance. Without a word Tim turned and began to search through the wreckage for a splint.
It was while hunting for a suitable length of timber that Tim fully appreciated the extent of the damage of the motor home. From what the human could see, the caravan had hurtled straight into a large, black rock at the bottom of valley, tipped over, then skidded about a hundred metres and leaving a filthy gash in the otherwise grassy land. The base and wheels, while now resting on their side, were reasonably intact. The same could not be said for the walls and ceiling which lay strewn about the area in various pieces.
Tim spotted a pile of wood that probably had been a small bed. He located a piece of the debris that looked like it would fit against Pitmon's leg. He grabbed it and, stumbling slightly, hurried back to his friends.
Marcus had fished a doughnut bandage out of one of the many pockets of his scavenged military jacket. He was fitting it around the protruding bone when he asked Pitmon, "Did you tell him where we are?"
Pitmon shook his head.
"We need to get out of this valley fast, before they realise we are here," the ninja replied.
"Whose 'they'?" Tim had caught the end of the brief conversation as he returned with the splint. Marcus took the piece of wood and began to strap it to Pitmon's leg with another bandage.
"Kiwimon. Very territorial, very violent to intruders."
Pitmon nodded weakly in agreement. "We need to hurry."
Tim gazed around the valley and crash sight is annoyed confusion. "But we're not intruding. We crashed here, it's an accident."
"Do you think they care how we got here?" Impmon demanded, rubbing his head. "I dunno what Earth's like, but the Digital World isn't all nice and peaceful towns like Trade Route." He lowered his voice in anger, "It can get violent out here. Really violent. It's an eat or be eaten world. Be the predator or the prey. And buddy," he prodded Tim with gloved finger, "I ain't gonna be the prey."
Marcus smiled and shook his head.
"Don't mind him," he reassured Tim, "he's just annoyed cause there isn't much food left."
"Damn straight," the imp concurred.
"Well anyway," Marcus went on, "We need to get out of this valley fast. They probably already know we're here." He finished the leg splint, then instructed Tim how to carry Pitmon safely by crossing and linking their arms and forming a human chair. Half running half walking, the two humans carried the weight of the injured Digimon towards the nearest hill, Impmon and the deflated food bag in tow.
"If we can get about a third of the way up we should be safe!" Marcus panted. The hills looked a lot steeper from the bottom of the valley.
But the quartet had barely passed the undercarriage of the destroyed caravan when what looked like a wave of green, white and brown came flooding into the valley of the crash site. Impmon swore loudly.
The Kiwimon were not tall, but still imposing. They were round, furry, brown birds, with long legs and a mane of green hair. A smooth bone helmet hid the heads and beaks of each digimon. The eyes burnt with a mindless fury through the holes in the helmet. Tim guessed all twenty of those things wanted to personally use his lungs as bathing sponges. He was right.
"Pummel Peck!" The Kiwimon began to scream randomly. Large projectiles erupted from the birds' mouths and sailed the huge distance between them and the Digidestined.
"Watch it! Get out of the way!" Impmon ordered and began pushing the others behind the tilted base of what remained of the caravan.
Tim risked a glance behind him before taking refuge behind the metal carcass. The projectiles were in fact miniature models of the Kiwimon themselves. Tim thought that was a little funny, but that thought ceased immediately when the minikiwis' began exploding like grenades.
The floor of the caravan rocked worryingly as it was assaulted by the explosions, but it did not give way.
"I'm gonna give 'em about three minutes before they arrive and make guitar strings out of our intestines," Impmon said as he peeked around the undercarriage.
The group flinched as one of the tyres took a direct hit, sending rubber and steel flying dangerously in all directions. Pitmon screamed as hot shrapnel speared into his bad leg. White ooze began to leak slowly and thinly from the roughly bandaged wound.
"What is that stuff?" a trembling Tim asked, shocked and disgusted at the pain his friend was enduring while constant explosions rocked the land around them, making it worse. He wanted to wipe the silvery substance away but he was afraid of touching it. He had never seen anyone hurt so severely before, and he was horrified that bodies, whether human or digimon, could turn against themselves and cause so much pain. Your insides were supposed to stay inside, they shouldn't ever, ever be seen.
"It's blood," Impmon said in disbelief. How could the human be so stupid?
"But it's white." Tim was beginning to slur slightly. He felt sick, but he couldn't pull his eyes away from the white of the naked bone, or the pale blood.
"Well what colour d'you expect it to be? Bright red?" Impmon snorted.
Pitmon groaned as a blast of orange above them briefly lit their surroundings. No one had realised just how dark it was getting. The Kiwimon's screams grew louder.
"Digivolve, Tim," rasped Pitmon. "You are stronger than they, you can defeat them!" The remains of the motor home shuddered precariously.
"I'm not going to leave you." The human's eyes flicked from the broken leg to the bright yellow orbs of Impmon's face.
"I'm going to be fine," Impmon said steadily. The bleeding had stopped, and Impmon knew he would have to push the snapped bone back into his body if it was going to heal properly. But Tim just shook his head.
Marcus stepped forward.
"You can't control the Digivolution," said Impmon sceptically as Marcus pulled off his camo jacket and took the powerful medallion from under his orange shirt.
"I can try. I just need to be strong." The Aborigine thought he had it figured out. To release the power of the Crest of Strength he needed to stand up for what he believed in; fairness, equality, friendship, and never giving up without a fight. He knew it sounded corny, but it was true.
"Are you sure you can take 'em?" Impmon was trying not to let his worry show. In all honesty, he would have preferred for Tim to try and save the day, the situation looked that bleak. There was a loud blast and a dirty hole appeared in the undercarriage next to Impmon's head. The demon coughed and waved dust from his sight. He saw Tim crouching next to Pitmon, trying to shield the wounded digimon from the red-hot bits that the Kiwimon's avian grenades kept sending flying. Impmon turned his head and saw Marcus darting from the safety of the metal barrier to face the oncoming Kiwimon.
"Come back here, you moron!" Impmon called after his friend. The demon thrust the bag of food into Tim's face and growled, "Guard it with your life," before running after the other boy.
Marcus held one hand to his eyes against the heat and light of the explosions while holding his glowing Crest in the other. The distance between the Kiwimon and Marcus rapidly disappeared.
The human turned to see Impmon grab him by the shirt and try to pull him back to safety, but the imp was launched wildly off his feet as a Kiwi grenade detonated a little to close for comfort.
"Digivolve," Marcus whispered. The Crest erupted with light. Marcus looked at his hands. They were still small and black, still human. He had not Digivolved.
But Impmon had.
Standing twice as tall as before, Mischiefmon was the ultimate incarnation of cool. His skin was still purple but now covered by ripped denim jeans and matching jacket. His red bandanna was now perched atop his head and silver aviator sunglasses covered his green eyes. But what was most curious was the silver canister that seemed to be welded to his back.
Mischiefmon looked himself over, a toothy grin spread itself across his face.
"Somebody get me a mirror!" he said smoothly, his rough voice dripping with vanity. Marcus managed to push aside his amazement to attract the digimon's attention by waving an arm.
"Um, angry killer birds, twelve o' clock."
The freshly digivolved demon ceased checking himself out and looked up just in time to take a pummel peck straight in the chest. Marcus dived back behind the caravan remains.
"You're gonna pay for that!" Mischiefmon screamed pointing a finger in the general direction of his attackers. From his jeans he whipped a thin nozzle that was connected to the silver tank on his back by a pipe. "Blowtorch Bonanza!"
A jet of blue flame burst from the end of the nozzle and roasted the nearest Kiwimon.
"Bullseye, baby!" Mischiefmon cried, pumping a fist into the air in celebration as the bird exploded into data fragments. He took aim at another attacker but was knocked off his feet by yet another bird grenade. The Kiwimon were on top of him before he could even swear, pecking at him viciously with their beaks and hard bone helmets.
Marcus watched in dismay from the hole in the caravan as the birds assaulted his friend. There were just too many of them for Mischiefmon to handle alone. He had to digivolve! The boy fingered the crest and felt its power begin to course through his body. It was time. The crest's light surrounded him. He felt himself grow taller and wider, the proportions of his body becoming squatter and squarer. Muscles the size of soccer balls began to form over his thick bones. Thick, black and white striped fur sprouted all over his skin. Finally, a large, metal cannon and its holster appeared and fixed itself to his back.
Sensaitmon jumped over the top of the caravan remains and punched violently with massively muscular arms at the swarm of Kiwimon. The vicious birds shrieked and scattered at the pummelling they received from the new and powerful opponent.
"You can thank me later," growled Sensaitmon in his deep, bass throb. Mischiefmon got to his feet and dusted himself off.
"What are you talkin' about? I had 'em right where I wanted 'em!"
The remaining Kiwimon had begun another attack run
"Let's finish this."
"I like your thinkin'." Mischiefmon grinned and pulled out his flame thrower wand. Sensaitmon did the same. The two partners levelled their respective weapons at the birds, the distance between the two forces rapidly vanished. Just as the attackers were almost upon them, the two champions pulled their triggers.
"Ice Ball Bazooka!"
The advancing birds were blasted by the onslaught of fire and ice, sending them soaring wildly through the smoke-choked air. Some of the Kiwimon were destroyed, the rest began to retreat understanding that they were no match against those two powerful digimon. As they escaped across the debris-strewn landscape, a jet of fire relentlessly pursued them like a vengeful spirit.
"Ha ha!" Misciefmon screamed with glee, "Where ya going? The party's just getting started!" He began to chase after the survivors, but was caught in Sensaitmon's powerful grip.
"There's no need," the ice monster growled. The demon tried to shake free.
"But I'm just getting warmed up!"
"We are the defenders! Not the other way around. We have defended and won, leave it at that." Sensaitmon was very serious, he was not about to let his friend go on a killing spree. Both digimon stared at each other, but the rebellion faded from Mischiefmon's face.
"Thank you," the gorilla rumbled. "Now let's get the other two to safety."
Carrying Tim and the still injured Pitmon in his massive arms, Sensaitmon followed Mischiefmon up the steep hill and out of the valley. They stopped just outside of the Kiwimon's territory.
"I still reckon we should find the rest of them and whoop 'em," Impmon said loudly. Mishciefmon had returned to his rookie form, and Sensaitmon had become human. He looked over at Marcus who had a stern look on his face. "But I wouldn't want to waste valuable energy and resources, ya know? Namely me." He pointed to himself and grinned superiorly. The others ignored him.
Marcus turned his focus back on Pitmon's leg. He was reluctant to unbandage the serious wound, but he knew that in order for the bone to heal it had to be set back in place. Tim stood behind Marcus with a hand over his mouth. The dark boy frowned.
"I'm sorry, but I really don't know what to do," Marcus apologised. Tim looked at the back of the human's head with a slight look of anger. Was he just going to let Pitmon bleed to death?
"As I keep telling you, I will be fine," Pitmon breathed. "I appreciate that the splint was needed to carry me to safety, but now the most helpful thing you can do is unbandage me and simply let me heal."
Marcus nodded in agreement and reluctantly untied the careful knots of the dressing. He had to keep reminding himself that he was treating a digimon, not a human, and first aid was slightly different.
"I can set the bone straight myself," Pitmon went on. "I should be able to walk by morning."
It was nearly a whole minute before Tim's brain processed what his partner had just said. "What do you mean 'by morning?' When I broke my ankle I couldn't walk properly for a whole month."
Marcus almost laughed. "Haven't you realised? Haven't you ever wondered why these two never have a scratch on them?" he indicated the two digimon. Tim shook his head in puzzlement. Marcus explained, "Digimon heal rapidly, I mean really fast. They have to, I guess, otherwise they just don't survive."
Tim checked himself over. He was indeed covered in cuts and bruises, and his school uniform was almost in tatters, whereas Impmon and Pitmon (except for the leg) never seemed to be physically hurt. He wondered about this for a second, but a sickening crack and a scream interrupted his thoughts. Pitmon had yanked on his own foot, pulling the protruding bone down into the correct position and then slipping it beneath the skin. Tim stared, mouth agape, as some of the silvery blood splattered across his cheek. His brain froze in incomparable disgust; he had seen the whole operation.
Pitmon noticed his friend's shock and said apologetically, "Should I have warned you to look away?"
Tim managed to squeak in the affirmative before falling over backwards in a dead faint.
Marcus shook his head in exasperation and moved his unconscious friend into a more comfortable position. He then sat and watched Pitmon's injured leg in mild, clinical interest as the bloody wound slowly healed, the torn skin started to knit back together.
Pitmon noticed the human's observation, and added, "It will take a couple of hours for the bone to completely reconnect."
Marcus nodded absently. He didn't want to think about the future right now. He didn't want to plan where they were going to go next, and how they were going to get there. He certainly did not want to think about the food crisis. He just wanted to sit for a while and not worry or think about anything. So he blankly stared at the ever shrinking hole on the ninja's leg. But then a horrible thought suddenly occurred to him.
"Where's Patamon?" The dastardly rodent had not been seen since the crash.
"Maybe he died in the crash!" Impmon cried dreamily, a look of pure joy spread across his face at the idea. But their joy and hopefulness was to be short lived. There came a faint rustling as something stirred from within the food duffel that Impmon had been dragging around. The bag began to twitch. Impmon's eyes widened in fear.
"No. Please, no," the demon whimpered, "For the sake of all that is holy, no."
The bag burst open, releasing the smiling face of Patamon, happily chomping away on the carefully rationed food. Marcus fell onto his back and groaned. It was official; the luck of the Digidestined had just hit rock bottom. Impmon just stared, his left eye twitching.
Patamon swallowed, belched loudly, and giggled. Looking around, he beamed as he recognised the faces from the morning, in the wheely house.
"That roller coaster was lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of fun! Let's find another one and not do it again."
Impmon slowly and stiffly stood in front of the tiny digimon.
"Okay," he said in an almost strangled voice, "But first we'll play another game." He smiled maniacally and ignited a fireball in each of his palms. "We're gonna play 'Impmon gets to kill the satanic weasel'."
Patamon's smile grew even bigger.
"Wow! That sounds like lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of fun! But first you've got to catch me," he squealed in joy as he leapt from the bag and began to fly. Impmon did not hesitate to chase the overgrown rat.
"Get back here you mutant booger!" the imp screamed as he pursued Patamon around the hill. "I'm gonna cut you open and tie you up with your own intestines! And then I'm gonna chop you into little pieces and jump up and down until you turn to dust! And then I'm gonna boil up the dust until you evaporate! And then I'll wait until its rains! And then I'm gonna…!"
Marcus closed his eyes and thought how lucky Tim was to be unconscious right now. Impmon's rapidly elevating death threats would have been amusing, had the fact that no food remained being the reason for his murderous ranting. But he chose to lie there for the time being, and wait for the two dynamic digimon to wear themselves out. He glanced to where Tim and Pitmon lay. Tim was still unconscious and it looked as though Pitmon had miraculously fallen asleep despite the pain in his leg and the racket between Patamon and Impmon. Again, Marcus closed his eyes. This time he could hear Patamon.
"Round and round the grassy hill, the Impmon chased the cute thing," Patamon sang, "They climbed a tree that wasn't there…"
"SHUT THE HELL UP!" screamed Impmon. "When we find a tree I'm gonna cram it horizontally up your-"
Marcus put his hands over his ears to drown out the profanities, and sighed. The Digital World certainly had its moments, and this was definitely not one of them.
Movement in the darkness. A stirring of ancient dust. The dank and musty smell of old. Black energy crackled above. The Shadow watched the four Digidestined in abject silence.
All four have discovered the power of the crests. All four have digivolved to champion level. Let them come.
The pale, white eyes studied his magnificent machines.
They are no match, thought the Shadow in consolation. What they have achieved so far is nothing, barely a thorn in my side.
Chains clanked as the nameless evil strode amongst his creations, caressing them, until he came to the heart of the structure and stopped. He gazed upon the black gear, the dark manifestation of his own body and soul that powered his creations. Soon he would be whole again.
Let them come.
Hope that was as much fun to read as it was to write. Dont' forget to review guys! Cya soon.