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Author of 4 Stories |
Invisible
Chapter 4
Actions and Words
Deciding it best to enter in a manner in which he could gather all the attention, a swift punch blew the double doors of the café’s entrance across the room, thundering into the wall on the other side of the cafe. Shards of glass tore the wall to pieces, and the metal twisted from the force of the fist’s impact. His goal had been achieved. Digimon turned with a certain sense of confusion, followed by the perfect clarity of the situation confirmed by wide-eyed looks of fear and the overbearing sound of silence.
“There is no reason to panic,” the digimon spoke, “You are all about to be witnesses to the most astounding act you will ever see in your lives. From the moment I was born, I knew this moment was inevitable. It’s not easy to live with such a burden like mine, but I am here for a special reason. At this very moment, history will now be changed.”
He walked up to the closest digimon he stood near: an Upamon who had been ignoring him, completely preoccupied by eating. The initial thought of a punch was denied, seeing a kick as giving him a better position at blocking those who might possibly try and stop him from what will be the early round of his rampage. With a flick of the wrist, he speared it with his armor, allowing for a slow and painful death.
An Agumon soared over the tables and at the digimon. With claw reared back, he delivered a swift blow to the digimon. Hardly flinching, the digimon returned the favor and sent the Agumon sailing into and through a wall. Several digimon now took on the task of taking on the murderer. The murderer simply blocked all of their attacks with one arm, while reaching over to a cup of coffee on a table next to him. He quietly sipped it as he continued his blocking.
“Honorable?” he asked, “Indeed. But necessary?” With one swing, he took out his attackers.
“Hardly” he sighed, looking at all the raw data he could possibly dream of trembling before him. His vicious streak tore through rational thought. He realized that he was there to send a message to the Sovereigns of the Digital World.
He began a merciless slaughter of everyone in the diner. He’d corner a patron and first start by severing all possible means of escape. This included tendons (fire shooting up and down one’s bones), ligaments (the sudden stomach dropping feeling of ball and socket joints detaching completely), joints (the lose of mobility permanently as bones warped out of shape while still within the limb) and possibly even arms and legs themselves (a sudden cool breeze that could not be attributed to one’s fly’s being open).
One punch he delivered was so forceful it broke a bone and forced it to break through the skin of the victim. A Gabumon clung to a leg of a table, bolted into the ground. Upon finding him, the digimon grabbed his legs and pulled with all his might. So fearful for its life, the Gabumon clung to the table leg so hard, both shoulders were instantly dislocated. No longer able to fight the involuntary spasms as his arm socket’s rubbed against his shoulder muscles, he gave up.
With a quick stab, he scored another victory by virtue of puncturing their lungs. The clam flood of fluid from the abdominal cavity was the only sign of trouble as they convulsed on the ground.
As he stood over a Botamon he paused. Then, lifting his foot quickly, he brought it down.
“Killing their young like it was nothing new.”
“Jorcy!” someone pounded on the door, “Get your lazy ass up, or you’re going to make us late!”
“I’m coming you twat!” he yelled back, turning the TV off. Out of the darkness came a chair, and Jorcy collided with it in slapstick fashion, “Oh...Jesus!”
“What the hell are you doing in there man?!? That stuff just ain’t right.”
“I’m preparing to kick your ass!” Jorcy yelled, stumbling to his feet. Opening the door, there was Ian. Slightly stocky, but tall enough so that it fit him well. Dressed warmly and bearing a grin that invited all.
“You were saying?”
“Oh nothing. Just gonna’ kick your ass!”
“In your dreams Jorcy-boy,” Ian smirked.
“Ooooo! You play football for a university! You’re just all big and bad now, aren’t yah?” he said, walking to Ian’s car.
“Hey! Why are you walking to my car?”
“Because I don’t feel like driving.”
“And neither do I, especially when you have a new car I need to have a peek and a ride in.”
“Bull!” Jorcy yelled, “Aren’t I your guest?”
“Oh damnit!” Ian yelled, “Give me points for trying though,” he said opening his car’s door.
“I’d give it about nine points,” Jorcy said, sitting in the front seat, “It’s nice to be a passenger every now and then.”
“Says you,” Ian grunted, starting the car and backing it out of the driveway, “Not to bring up Jet or anything, but doesn’t he have any cars you can drive other than that new one?”
“Yeah, they’re all in a private garage that I don’t have a key to.”
“Fiddlesticks!” he yelled, hitting the steering wheel. The car jerked to the right slightly. Jorcy looked out the window, completely oblivious to the motion of the car. Just staring off into the blackness of the sky before the Sun rises, “I know he’s got something in that garage!”
“Most likely.”
“Ferrari?” Ian asked.
“No, he hated Ferrari with a passion.”
“What, how can you hate a Ferrari?”
“Very easily,” Jorcy simply replied.
“Okay, any Bentleys?”
“Nope, he didn’t like Bentley.”
“What? What the hell was wrong with Jet?”
“He thought Bentley was a car that you bought to have someone else drive you around in, and he’s not one of those kinds of people.”
“That makes sense,” Ian said, drifting off into shallow thought.
“How’s your dad doing?” Jorcy casually asked.
“Good, been busy lately. Being a Senator is a little bit harder than he thought, but he’s doing much better than that guy who held the office before him.”
“Senator? I thought he was with the House of Representatives.”
“No you doofus! He’s a Senator.”
Ah. Hey, I got a good joke---”
“Well, spill it---”
“Maybe if you’d let me---”
“Alright, go ahead.”
A moment of silence.
“Thank you,” Jorcy started, “It’s a “Yo’ Mama’” joke. Here’s how it goes: Yo mama’ so fat people jog around her for exercise.”
They both erupted into laughter.
“Damn Jorcy!” Ian said, laughing hard enough to cause the car to swerve slightly, “That was good, but I think I’ve got a better one. Yo mama’ so fat her nickname is "Lardo"!”
“That was fairly lame Ian.”
“Fiddlesticks! It’s brilliant.”
“No, this is brilliant,” Jorcy paused, “Yo mama’ so fat she had to go to Sea World to get baptized!”
Once again, laughter ensued.
“Yo mama’ so fat she had to go to Sea World to get baptized!”
“Oh damn!” Jorcy laughed, “Ian’s got jokes!”
“Yo mama’ so fat she rolled over 4 quarters and it made a dollar!” Ian fired off again, “Yo mama’ so fat she's got Amtrak written on her leg! Yo mama’ so fat she fell in love and broke it!”
Jorcy was no longer communicating verbally. Tears from laughing so hard streamed down his cheeks and he was bent over, laughing so hard, he felt as if his lung were about to be spit out of his mouth. Witnessing this, Ian’s toothy smile grew and he continued to assault Jorcy’s “mama’”, “Yo mama so fat that when she was born, she gave the hospital stretch marks! Alright Jorcy, I gotta’ switch it up!”
Jorcy couldn’t respond. The laughter went through him like the pains of a vicious disease. Ian let the final blow rip.
“Yo mama’ so stupid, she failed a survey!”
Jorcy lost it. He pushed the window button down, and held it in till the window was down completely. He stuck his head out into the cold, thick air and let the vomit spew from his mouth, still quietly laughing. It cascaded onto the ground, splattering as it began to leave a trail.
Ian went into hysterical laughter, and when finished puking, Jorcy sat back into his seat, laughing audibly. The time to Long Beach seemed to fly past.
“I think that you boys should come back with just a little more information, just so we can be safe that this “data stream” you speak of is really emanating from a source around this young man’s house.”
“Sir, we’ve got all the confirmation we need to get a warrant of arrest! We have no clue what he’s planning to do and we need to stop it now!” James blurted out.
Now see,” the head of the NRO said, “That’s exactly why I can’t give you boys a warrant. We don’t know what direction this road will lead us on. I mean, look at the evidence you’re presenting,” he said, picking up a paper, “Apathetic demeanor, has the Bible sandwiched between “The Anarchist Cookbook” and “The Gay Science”.”
“That’s a very dangerous combination sir!” Montgomery insisted.
“Look-e-here boys, if you can gather some more evidence, I’ll be glad to let you two have a warrant for Mr. Jorcy Black’s arrest. But until you can present said evidence, I’m afraid he’s someone that this government doesn’t want to waste their time on. Prove to me that he’s going to be our next Bin Laden or Hussein. I’m sorry gentlemen.”
“Fine,” Montgomery huffed out of the room. James stood and huffed out as well.
“So now what the hell do we do?” James asked, catching up with Montgomery huffing to an elevator.
“What every good government agency no one talks about does in times like these."
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