Arctic winds blew, searing across the frost-covered metal shell of the Spokes districts. So fast and so bitingly cold, that the deep crimson disc of the rising sun did little to even make the surface damp, let alone provide relief from the cold. The sunlight instead merely danced over the etched metalwork – scuffed and marked from millennia of the elements, but still so pure that it glittered like stars with the ascending light.

Yet inside, the world was completely different again. Shielded from the freezing cold from outside, and yet also hidden from the majestic sunrise. The effects did slowly make their way through though, as the domed top of the Spokes capital gently rose from a dark violet hue, through purple and rose, to a light lilac, allowing the lives of the Digimon within to continue. Some emerged from their dwellings, tentatively heading to their posts and duties to keep the districts running. Others shrank back from the rising light, ducking beneath the blossoming districts into the world of tarnished rods and broken slums below, waiting for their next opportunity to emerge.

And for three very small soldiers in a very alien world, it was a lot to get your head around.

“You mean there’s no intervention with the central mechanisms at all?”

Frozomon hunched forwards, tapping a few markings and scanning the resulting sequence of lights with his one piercing eye, before looking back over his shoulder.

“This place is old as all hell. I wouldn’t know where to start with the deep workings of the city. I just deal with the clunky bits of it, in my spare time.”

“So, no engineers or maintenance workers or anything?”

“Newp. Liquid and living metal. Only a few Digimon like that around anymore, and Hasdielmon prefers them working the rails. So we here have to make do.” The great snowplough wiped his brow, before turning sharply ninety-degrees on his tracks, in a move far more agile than his mass would have belied.

“You doing alright there?”

Mollumon stood there, already laden up with bags of personal research; tablets, relics, histories, and now a large section of angled chrome pipework balanced across his front tentacles. He smiled in a deliberately helpful manner, but it was difficult to hide the strain on his face.

“Never better. They make me do this all the time back home.”

“Sounds rough. Here ya go.”

The captain of the guard trundled over, relinquishing the octopus of the length of pipe at the very least. The Elite rolled his shoulders, quietly dropping the rest of his load for a moment, before he followed the captain with his hands behind his back, his head held at an angle.

“So I’m guessing this is the bulk of your work then? Maintenance and defences?”

“Don’t go knocking my projects; some of them are older than you are.”

Mollumon raised his tentacles, “I wouldn’t dream of it, honestly. There’s a lot to keep running in these places that nobody sees on the surface. At least until it goes wrong.”

“An’ that’s what I try to tell Hamadryamon, but she just wants things looking all nice and pretty like.” Frozomon sighed, and expertly clicked the pipe into place, knocking the side of it as the generator it fed rumbled into life. Mollumon gazed in awe as the engine got moving, sliding across sections of chrome and steel as it traversed the precarious tracks towards the next district. There were similar devices all around, all different shapes and sizes, and decidedly more mechanical than the main districts themselves. Some were manned, with Kenkimon or AtlurBallistamon riding atop, while others worked around a set path, clearing debris or linking together to form moving girders.

Frozomon stuck his hands on his sides, nodding in gruff approval. “The place needs someone looking after it. Always has, but some of th’Sovereigns didn’t care. So we do what we can regardless to help the new districts grow and try and pull some of the fallen ones out of the depths below. Everything helps at this stage.”

He glanced aside, before shaking his head. “Sorry. I guess I’m boring you with all this.”

“Heck no.”

Mollumon grinned, pulling his front tentacles up in front of him as he watched the devices travel all around. “Old and new technology, community, restoration of history; this is the kind of stuff I live for.”

“Well, I’m glad at least one of you appreciates more than spontaneous combustion.”

Mollumon and Frozomon both turned, with the guard nearly clocking the octopus over the head with one shoulder gatling. He shuffled back and forth, before raising an arm.

“Muscovymon.”

Mollumon lowered his head. “Your highness.”

The duck raised a palm, waving the greetings away as he strode forwards with his usual confidence. He paused beside them, looking down his bill at the Elite.

“I rarely see soldiers like you with such an appreciation for the important things. Your companions not so keen, I take it?”

Mollumon scratched behind one ear flap. “They never really took an interest. Too nerdy for them, apparently.”

“Story of my life.”

The duck raised his cannon arm, tapping it against his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I should pay more attention during big ceremonies but I have no head for statistics. Which regiment were you with again; engineers or ballistics?”

“Ballistics. 1 ^st interior.”

“Good man. Keeping the side going.” The duck smiled, and reached out, gently knocking the octopus’s side. Mollumon flushed just a little, feeling a small twinge of pride. “Working for Fornaxmon?”

“A little, though I spend most of my time with Commander Bombardimon.”

“Owch. That’s a line I wasn’t ready to hear so soon.” The duck drew in a breath. “ Commander Bombardimon...I was there when he was a Rookie dumping live cartridges into the ammo houses.”

Mollumon blinked. “That’s...okay, wow…”

There came a gruff chuckle from the maintenance panel as Frozomon shook his head. “That figures. Y’lot are all the same. An arm full of bombs and a head full of rocks.”

Muscovymon raised an eyebrow, clamping the end of his cannon arm down on the ground. “Thanks for the moral support.”

“Any time, your highness.”

The two laughed together, while Mollumon stood between them; smiling and open, but unable to shake the nagging awkwardness that plagued him during such jovial moments. His eyes drifted downwards, and he found himself staring at Muscovymon’s cannon; black metalwork with curved engravings, scratched and marked from what he could only imagine was decades of use.

He raised his front tentacles, nervously twisting the ends around.

“I’d heard snippets here and there about you being part of the Fire Forces.”

“A small part, perhaps.” The duck shrugged. “It’s not worth keeping it a secret. You’re a powerful ally; if I can help build the links between us then I will. I just often end up busy round here.”

“Do you miss it?”

The duck paused, a gentle flat frown spread out across his beak. There came a spurt of mechanical gibberish from Frozomon, who twisted ninety-degrees on his tracks, pointing a bladed arm. “You ain’t having him back. He’s invaluable here. You’ve got your own lumpheads.”

Mollumon waved his tentacles in a panicked fashion. “Oh, god, sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Ah, don’t worry, he’s only jesting. You get used to his sense of humour after a while.”

Muscovymon gave a half-smile, before wandering over to the edge of the balcony, staring out over the Spokes in a somewhat wistful manner.

“I miss the people. Fornaxmon, the ballistics corps, Surtremon back when he was still Commander EldJotumon; people like you made the whole thing worthwhile. If you’re anything like them then I think the place is in good hands.”

Mollumon tapped the edge of his barrel, not quite meeting the Sovereign’s gaze. “If...it’s not too intrusive to ask...then why-”

“Why did I leave?” Muscovymon sighed, crossing his arms on the ledge in front of him. “It’s hard to explain. Something just started feeling off. Something bigger than any of my comrades, though we were all getting swept up in it. Missions going wrong, minor conflicts ending with needless death…”

He trailed off, before turning round, looking down at the octopus. He raised his good arm, and pointed first to his cannon arm, and then his mechanical eye.

“My weapon, and the price I paid while using it. I couldn’t truly accept any more that what I was doing was helping the world. So I walked away.”

Mollumon could feel his insides knotting, desperate to pull himself back into his barrel. But he stayed upright, raising an arm to his beak.

“Pardon me, but I can’t see that much difference to what’s going on here.”

Muscovymon stared at him, blankly but firmly, for a good minute, while the sounds of Frozomon’s work carried on clunking in the background. Finally the sovereign spoke.

“That’s the other thing. I got too insular. Too closed off from the world. If it’s all you know, then every decision you make feels like the natural choice. You can’t truly know the story from anywhere else.”

“...pardon me, I don’t understand…”

“It’s not written on a tablet or a guide I’m afraid. Some things just come with experience.”

The sovereign pushed himself up, and gently strode past the Elite, reaching out and giving him a couple of taps on the barrel.

“You’re a smart soul. Keep on the right path and you’ll be fine. Better off than me, anyway.”

Mollumon turned, wanting to ask more, but the Sovereign was already marching away, his arm swinging heftily beside him. The octopus shrank down, pulling his barrel up over his beak as his mind started racing further. Beside him, Frozomon looked between the Elite and the vacant doorway, before giving a mechanical pwsh.

“Like I said. Head full of rocks, every one of you.”

Mollumon rolled his eyes. But he couldn’t find the words within him to disagree.

“Nice place you’ve got here. Very pretty.”

Coremon tapped on the base of the platform beneath him as the shuttle moved slowly from the capital district to one of the neighbouring lower sectors. It was an automated system, kept running smoothly by the tireless efforts of Frozomon and the royal guard, and allowed easy access between the different areas.

It had taken Coremon a few attempts to work out the etiquette for it, but eventually he’d managed to collar one at the right point and had hopped on. To his luck, he wasn’t the only passenger either, and was glad to finally have some time alone with one of the citizens in order to have the conversation he’d been so clearly lacking.

The Searchmon next to him looked decidedly unenthused by the idea, as they stood staring ahead with jewel-like red eyed. They squatted gently, and nodded. Coremon edged one step closer.

“You moved here a while ago or…”

“No, I grew up here.”

“Ah, home-grown.” Coremon grinned. “You know, my friends always keep telling me I should get out more. See the world a bit.”

“That’s nice.”

The manticore pouted, feeling a certain unpleasant sounding vibe from the giant bug next to him. He sat back, running a finger round his brooch in a thoughtful manner, before deciding just to bite the bullet and ask the real questions.

“Look, my friends and I...we just want to know a bit more about this place. We want to help, and there’s...clearly some things going on.”

If it was possible for it to sweat the Searchmon would have been peppering the shuttle with ball-bearings at this point, but Coremon, driven by desperation and/or naivete, kept going regardless.

“I’ve seen the places below, and the rebels and the inequality you’re going through here. We’re alone in here so, really, if there’s anything you want to tell-”

“Everything’s normal.”

The Searchmon buzzed with anxiety, snapping more harshly than they perhaps intended, before headbutting a lever in front of them and bringing the trolley to a stop. Coremon stepped back, pressing his lip out.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

The giant insect walked forward, turning their head for a brief second.

“Everything’s always been normal here. If there’s any problems, they won’t get fixed by people like me. And especially not by visiting war criminals.”

The door shut suddenly, and the trolley continued on, leaving Coremon sat alone, his words caught in his mouth.

“Wow. Rude.”

With barely a judder, the shuttle moved off once again, trundling down to the lower district. Coremon sighed, and leant back against the wall, gently pawing at the end of his tail. He hadn’t been expecting the most friendly response during his little morning’s reconnaissance, but it had been hard enough just finding any citizens to talk to in the first place, with the majority of them veering away at the first sight of him.

Those who he had managed to corner had given a response to varying degrees similar to that of the Searchmon; from just walking away mid-conversation to apologetically dismissing him to the occasional outright insult. Coremon hadn’t attained his current position by being thin-skinned, but even he was beginning to get tired of it all.

His paw reached up, and he gently unclipped the brooch at his cloak, turning it back and forth in front of him and watching as the gilded edges caught the light. A twinge of guilt caught him again, and he closed his eyes.

“I could really have done with some of your help, Muspelmon...”

The brooch felt warm against his chest, and he pulled the fabric back, refastening it.

“You’re entirely right. These people need sorting out. Bunch of antisocial snobs, every one of them.”

Realising he’d said that out loud, he looked up at the door of the shuttle, but there was nobody there, the whole device instead sliding to a gentle stop at the next platform. Coremon padded out, feeling the cold metal floor against his pads once again. The design of this district was very different to the capital; latticework railings and walls, and curved pagodas arranged in symmetrical lines. Coremon wondered if there was anything between the districts themselves which was alike, or whether each one merely grew out of the walls in its own unique way.

One thing was still the same though; this plaza seemed to have even less going on, with only the faint lights in the pagodas providing any sign that this place was inhabited.

Coremon ambled forwards, keeping his eyes peeled and his ears sharp, and staying as centrally to the road as he could. He wasn’t about to start digging through the back roads after the incident from yesterday, but even so he felt very exposed where he was. Only determination kept him going through the streets, with very little sounds to pick up on. Distant clicking. A resonant hum from the metal itself.

An approaching clattering of metal and wings from behind him.

Coremon whirled around, arms already alight, but he was forced to duck down as a Morphomon frantically shot past him, carrying a Syakomon in their stubby arms.

“Hey! Come back!”

“Out of the way now!”

Another voice, this one jagged and mechanical, and far more the source of the loud flapping. Coremon didn’t even try to confront this one; he rolled to one side, watching as the metal bird careered through the air, trailing umber leaves as it did so.

Coremon watched as the three small Digimon darted in any direction they could, but there was a new sound now; rustling and slithering, like an approaching wave. The manticore blinked, and ducked back behind one of the pagodas, keeping a low profile as he watched.

Morphomon rose up, squeezing through a gap and into a fenced off region, with Syakomon barely fitting through even when fully closed up. The Morphomon looked back, but the bird – Jazamon – shook his head.

“Just go. Let Doedimon know she’s onto us.”

The Syakomon poked a green head out, anxiety all across her face. “She won’t let you off lightly if she catches you. Hurry through.”

“I won’t fit. Quickly, now before she-“

“Thanatos Liana!”

Jazamon shot back, away from the window as the Morphomon dragged Syakomon rapidly out of sight. The bird wasn’t so lucky; barely able to dodge one set of twisting tendrils before a much larger one slammed into his chest like a wooden fist. He jerked backwards, very nearly being forced into a pillar, but the vines tautened moments before he hit, springing back and slamming him into the ground instead.

The bird struggled, but his movement was completely blocked, and he couldn’t do anything except watch as Hamadryamon stepped daintily out of the twisting metalwork.

“You really are trying my patience...”

She walked forwards, vines flowing behind her like a tentacled robe, and she grimaced as she stared down at the captured Jazamon.

“I’ve seen you, hovering around my rooftops. They’ve got you well trained, haven’t they...”

She held out a hand, and the vines rose up to meet it, carrying Jazamon with it as he struggled further. Soon he was at eye level, and the sovereign placed her hands behind her back, bending forwards ever so slightly.

“You’re going to tell me where your group is hiding, right now.”

Jazamon croaked, and in a flash of freedom he thrust his head forwards, going for the dryad’s mask. But she was quicker than him, bringing her palm up and clamping it over his beak.

“Do not anger me any further. Doedimon, is it? The one commanding you all? Organising this disruption to my city?For what?”

“We just...want you...to hear us...”

“I’ve heard you for years. I’ve given everything I have to stop this place falling apart. And still you want to wreck it.”

Her hand slid downwards, the rough bark claws curling around the bird’s neck. The fingers extended as she did so, and suddenly the Jazamon was struggling even further, clacking his beak in a panicked fashion as tiny black thorns wove their way around his shoulder blades. Hamadryamon curled her lip, the venom clear in her voice.

“What if I send you back to Doedimon with your wings reduced to so much swarf? Maybe that will make you all hear me, when I tell you that I will be shutting you down-“

“Excuse me?”

Hamadryamon pressed her lips together, and withdrew her hand, turning to look down at Coremon.

“You seem a little lost.”

“Well, you did give us freedom to explore.”

“Some of us did...”

Coremon ignored the pointed comment, instead looking over at Jazamon. “Who’s he?”

“One of the group who attacked you yesterday, so it seems.” Hamadryamon swayed. “I’m just getting some information. You don’t need to watch.”

Coremon tapped his teeth together, making a show of thinking. “I don’t really remember as I was on the ground at the time, but didn’t Hasdielmon say he didn’t want you chasing after them?”

Hamadryamon’s hand opened with an audible crack of the knuckles, as she struggled to keep the regal smile on her face.

“You...little-“

“CAAAWK!”

The high-pitched screech from Jazamon sent Hamadryamon stumbling, and the vines followed her as she did so, loosening just enough for the bird to roll out and drop to the floor. He turned and sprinted, even as Hamadryamon held out a palm, sending more waves of the vines in his direction. But Jazamon didn’t slow down; he reached the edge of the district and leapt, his wings spread wide as he fell into a steep glide. And he was gone.

Hamadryamon lowered her arm very slowly, as she turned to look at Coremon. The manticore knocked one hand against his head.

“Oops. Didn’t mean to get in the way.”

“Right, of course.”

The dryad held her arms wide, and the vines curled up, withdrawing into the nooks and crannies all around, as well as back into her own garments. She held her hands up, brushing off little bits of metal.

“I’d advise you not to interfere. You’ve seen for yourself how dangerous this group can be.”

“You seemed to be handling them pretty well though, your highness.” Coremon pressed his front paws together. “What do they want, anyway?”

“Who’s to say? Wanton anarchy and destruction, from what I can gather.”

The manticore pursed his lips. “That’s not what it seemed like to me.”

“What was that?”

Coremon realised that his quiet voice hadn’t been quiet enough, as he found the sovereign now staring at him, her right hand held in a threatening claw. But the Elite was not one to back down from a direct challenge, and decided to lean into it.

“They’ve seemed more...angry than anything. At least what I’ve seen.”

“You’ve not been here a day; you’ve not seen anything about them.”

“But I have seen you.”

Coremon could feel the anger building now, and he spread his front arms, trying to keep himself as stable as possible even as his arms glowed a little brighter.

“They’ve just been an annoyance to you. They’re your citizens, and they clearly need help to the point they’re willing to attack us for it.”

“I have everybody else to take care of as well. They deserve everything that comes to them.”

Coremon stared up, blue eyes blazing. “Whatever it is, you won’t ever fix it by threats and violence.”

Hamadryamon paused for a moment, and Coremon realised he’d pushed it just too far. But he didn’t back down, wanting to see her response. She scoffed, straightening up.

“Coming from a mere Fire soldier...”

“A mere ‘Elite’, your highness.”

Hamadryamon sighed, and pulled her garments around her, stepping to one side. “I have other things to attend to. Your suggestions will be accounted for, but I’m afraid we have our own ways of dealing with trouble here. You have no right to make demands.”

She paused, and bent down, baring her teeth as the vines shivered over her body.

“I’d take care if I were you. The next time one of these beasts tries to jump you, I won’t be stepping in to save your life.”

Coremon felt the energy field around her; dozens of vines vibrating at once, their essence burrowing deeply into him. Then she walked away, turning the corner towards the other half of the district.

The manticore stiffened, his arms glowing white hot, before he exhaled heftily, letting off a puff of flame from his shoulders. That had not gone well.

“I hate diplomacy...”

The manticore looked behind him, almost hoping for any sign that Jazamon or one of the other two had stayed. But there was nobody there. Only the blinking lights around the district, unaware of the scuffle below.

Coremon sighed, and ambled back towards the shuttle.

“Serpemon makes this all look so damn easy...”

Serpemon couldn’t help but feel that he was having a hard time.

Whereas his colleagues had decided to begin their investigations within the boundaries of the Spokes capital, or among the surrounding districts, the snake had taken it upon himself to get to the very heart of the matter. After all, there was clearly some dissension among the civilians to the point they were starting to form rebellious gangs, so it only made sense to dig a little deeper and find the source of the unrest.

It had been a good morning, with him easily able to track down the Shurimon from the day before, witness them having a subdued meeting with a nervy Tobiumon – and, interestingly enough, one of the Kenkimon manning the cross-district shuttles – and then following all three of them even further down, past the support structures and maintenance shafts that held the capital up, right into the understorey of the spokes itself. It was a completely different world; shine and silver giving way to tarnish and black spots, and a great increase in the clusters of residences and hovels, clinging to the supports of the city above.

The labyrinthine webs were no problem for the serpent’s lithe body, as he effortlessly glided from girder to spire, keeping the three rebels within earshot as they descended. The morning had gone absolutely perfectly, and it would likely have stayed that way had the Tobiumon not glanced back in his direction. Serpemon, true to form, had been flexible enough to dart quickly out of sight and out of earshot.

It was just a shame that it also happened to be directly into the midriff of the very same loud-voiced Baboongamon from the day before.

And so, following several impromptu taxi services, one or two gentle concussions and a frankly rude suggestion of tying his spine in a knot and playing him like an accordion, Serpemon now found himself dumped in the corner of a disintegrating shack next to a fire pit, with both arms and tail tied behind his back, and with several much larger and very angry looking Digimon staring at him.

Serpemon smiled, his ambassadorial charm immediately bubbling to the surface as a defense mechanism.

“Hello there, fine citizens of this great country. How are we all getting on?”

CLANG

The snake shimmied back as he found himself staring into the triangular teeth of Baboongamon, gritted and gnashing in his face.

“You’ll shut up if you know what’s good for you.”

“Aah. See, Coremon and Mollumon tell me that all the time, and it hasn’t stopped me yet, so it’s all in our best interests to pursue another more civil topic of discussion.”

The throaty and animalistic growl emanating from Baboongamon caused Serpemon to dial back a little on the ‘charm’, but he soon found another target as the Tobiumon – a large, pale blue flying-fish like creature balancing on two webbed hands – pressed her snout further into the makeshift cage.

“Why were you following us? Did the Sovereigns send you after us?”

Serpemon pulled a face. “Them? Goodness, no, I’m ungovernable.”

“Don’t listen to him,” piped up Lekismon, pressing his snout against the crossed bars. “He and two others came to the district yesterday. I think they’re Fire Kingdom...higher-ups?”

Tobiumon tilted her head. “He’s awfully small and disrespectful for a higher-up.”

Serpemon raised a finger. “I’m an Elite, I’ll have you now. Officially recognised and able to perform basic admin.”

Lekismon nudged Tobiumon and pulled her back, while Baboongamon stayed where he was, staring down at the apparently unfazed serpent. The fish Digimon tapped nervously against the ground.

“This is bad...this is really bad...they’re upping the ante and they’re gonna come for us. We’re all gonna disappear like the rest of them.”

“Tobiumon, calm down. They’ve only just arrived. We saw them yesterday.”

“That doesn’t mean anything! Those Sovereigns have it out for us. It would be just like them to bring in expert reinforcements.”

Lekismon glanced back over his shoulder, watching as Serpemon talked openly and inconsiderately into Baboongamon’s face, with the large rock golem not showing the slightest intention of yielding. Lekismon scratched his chin, before hopping back over.

“At any rate, you’re staying with us until we can bargain with the ones who hired you.”

“Hired?” Serpemon puffed his cheeks out. “I’m too expensive. And I have nowhere near the sleight-of-hand to have people just disappear, you know.”

Lekismon started, gripping the metal even more tightly.

“...how did you know about that?”

“Good hearing.” The snake shuffled forwards, fluttering his eyelids. “I’m intrigued though; do tell me more? Who’s been missing as of late.”

“That’s not...we’re not-”

“Not Sifamon, is it?”

Now the entire cage shook as Baboongamon grasped it with both hands, all composure suddenly gone. “WHERE IS SHE? WHAT DID YOU DO WITH HER?”

Even Serpemon wasn’t so blatantly suicidal as to continue mouthing off after that, so he sat, his ear-flaps flickering as Lekismon and Tobiumon whispered amongst themselves. Eventually Tobiumon turned, her mouth pressed together uncomfortably.

“You’ve...got a lot you need to explain. We’re gonna hold you and then we’re gonna take you to Doedimon. He’ll decide how we’re gonna deal with you.”

Serpemon stuck his lower lip, shuffling coyly.

“Would now be a bad time to mention that you’re not actually holding me right now?”

The rebels blinked as the snake pulled his hands out in front, waggling the fingers of one and holding some very limp restraints in the other. He paused for a minute, before limply wrapping them up again, this time in front of him.

“Just thought we might want to be on the open side.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’d be interested in meeting this Doedimon though. He might be able to clear a few things up for me.”

Tobiumon and Lekismon looked at one another. Then the rabbit nodded.

“You’re coming now. Baboongamon? Hold him properly.”

There was the clang of a gate. The sudden, swift and unforgiving movement of a great rock-studded palm, and suddenly Serpemon was moving, held firmly in the rock-monster’s grip like a mint-choc-chip ice cream cone.

But at least it was progress.

The snake kept his eyes peeled as he was marched through the camp; past clusters of black hovels and through ramshackle shelters made from twisted metal spines. It was hard to ignore the sheer number of Digimon stuck down here, away from the warmth of the districts above. Bundles of fresh and in-training levels grouped together in the corners, with only one or two Rookies to look over them. Many emaciated looking Champions, keeping their heads down, saving movement and energy.

There were others being more active. Serpemon picked up on the Shurimon, sitting cross-legged as they told stories to a group of younger Digimon, and the Kenkimon he’d been following, moving sacks of scrap materials around; one of a couple of rebels who he assumed were regular – and secret – contacts with the surface.

He heard a clattering of metal wings, and turned back to see a gathering of small Digimon on the low wall next to him; Jazamon, Syakomon and Morphomon, following him with intent eyes. Unable to move his hands, Serpemon satisfied himself with an acknowledging nod, before he was summarily dragged by Baboongamon behind a large, flat curtain.

“Baboongamon!”

The great golem paused, stepping back and forth as a couple of small, sandy Sunarizamon darted beneath his feet. He bent down, running his spare hand over both their heads.

“Hey there, you two. You been keeping safe? Not in people’s way?”

One of the lizards raised a paw in a squat salute, grinning as she did so. “We’ve been good. Promise.”

Baboongamon gave an affectionate rumble, which resonated right into Serpemon’s core, making him feel like his eyes were to be shaken out of their sockets.

“Is Doedimon still here? I hear the duck did quite a number on him.”

“He’s with the doc.”

The lizard pointed behind her, into a large curtained off area nested between some of the larger supports. The rock golem nodded, and with a quick pat on the back he set off again, following after Tobiumon and Lekismon. Serpemon tilted sideways, looking into the side of Baboongamon’s face mask.

“Some nice kids you got.”

“Don’t you go near them.”

Serpemon felt the grip around his torso tighten all of a sudden, and decided to change tack. “So is this your medical centre then? Seems to be quite busy.”

“Yeah, well...lots of us need help right now.”

The rock golem ducked down, lolloping into the barred-off area, and revealing the sounds of grinding and banging. Serpemon blinked for a bit, his eyes adjusting themselves to the gloom, before noticing a couple of large shapes at the end. A round dome, studded with metal plates, and beside that, a great green part-mechanical monstrosity, bent over on a single wheel, and currently wielding a myriad of saws, vices and mallets, strewn around within easy reach. He glanced back, his face hidden behind a pipe-covered mask, and his orange hair spiking up in a rough mohawk.

“What d’you want?”

Serpemon tilted his head sideways, whispering into Baboongamon’s ear. “I assume that’s the Doc?”

“Oi, bollock-face, down here.”

The snake double-took, his attention grabbed entirely by the tiny pink rabbit in the centre of the room. He had adorable pink cheeks, a button nose and cute red earmuffs, only slightly offset by the great grey bags under his eyes, and the scuffed lab coat draped around his shoulders, practically swamping him. The Cutemon chewed loudly, before raising a stubby finger and spouting off in a harsh East End swagger.

“Let’s get one thing straight, wasabi-noodle; yer in my bunker, yer answering t’me. Don’t go asking the big man; nice as’y like, couldn’t make the shots round here if y’paid him.”

Here the Rebellimon leant back slightly, tapping his oversized front appendages together in a distinctly coy manner. The Cutemon groaned, before turning his attention up to Tobiumon. “Whatchu on about anyway, dragging pondweed into my work area? I’ve got enough shit cluttering up the place.”

The flying fish pawed the ground uncertainly. “We uh...found him sneaking around down here. We thought Doedimon might need to have a word.”

“Doedimon’s ‘aving his patches looked at again. He ain’t got time to-”

“That’s fine, Doc, I’ll take it from here.”

There was the sound of clattering metal, and the dome in front of Rebellimon suddenly rose up, with four great, muscled limbs unfurling from beneath it. He rose onto two legs, and the dome shuffled down his back, revealing it to be an oversized scaled shell, patched all over with metal plates and leather fastenings.

The Digimon shuffled round, revealing a plated-armour torso and ragged leather pants, along with a hooded poncho that hung low over his head, revealing little of his face save for a squat snout and two glowing yellow eyes. He was a unique beast, but he carried himself with an air of confidence and intimidation that caused even Serpemon to check himself.

“We’ve got enough issues down here without invaders. You’d better have a damn good excuse.”

The snake nodded, respectfully. “No excuse, I’m afraid. I’m just nosey.”

“Who sent you? The Sovereignty?”

Doedimon leant forwards, his yellow eyes boring into Serpemon’s. “I’d heard they’d brought three outsiders in. So they’ve finally called upon the Fire Kingdom to flush us out.”

“Actually we came of our own accord. Something happened back at my home, and we’re looking around here for answers as to what.” Serpemon placed his hands behind his back, his pupils thinning slightly as he eyed the tattoo poking out from beneath Doedimon’s cloak – the same one that all the rebels had hidden somewhere on their body.

“Not that I know how much you’ve been informed about that.”

Doedimon planted his foot down, with such an intensity that it caused the metal to vibrate. “I only know what I see.” He pointed up with one triangular claw. “And I only see those hypocrites tearing into us, and I see Digimon I know and love disappearing without a trace.”

Serpemon raised a thumb, running it against his lip. “There’s a few of you who’ve mentioned disappearances now-“

“Shut it.”

Doedimon put one leg forward, bearing down on the serpent. “And now there’s you three, showing up at the Sovereignty’s doorstep. I don’t know what your game is but it’s stopping right now.”

Tobiumon and Lekismon looked nervously between themselves, with the moon rabbit raising a tentative paw. “Uh...Doedimon, should we really-“

“We’ve got a Fire soldier here. We can use that good fortune.”The great armoured beast turned, and shrugged his shoulders, a chain of light falling out from underneath his vast shell, and becoming a spiked double-ended bolus. With a simple flick he swung the weapon over his back, staring down at Serpemon.

“While you’re here, you can help us with a bargain or two.”

Serpemon stammered. “I-i-i-i’m not entirely sure that was in our terms of agreement.”

“And I’m not entirely sure that was a question. You snuck in here. I can’t let you expose us to the Sovereignty.”

“Hang on, hey, WAIT!”

“Molten Mortar!”

The inhabitants of the tent ducked as a comet shot overhead, bathing everything briefly in a deep orange. Doedimon looked towards the struts above, while Cutemon hopped up and down, utterly beside himself.

“Watch it, you pissin’ muppet! I’ve got delicate stuff in here!”

Doedimon leant forwards, raising an eyebrow.

“Something to do with you?”

“Evidently.” Serpemon bent his neck up, grinning inanely. “Wiggles! You do care!”

“I can’t help your idiocy,”came Mollumon’s voice from up in the support beams, and he shuffled forwards gently, his silhouette showing against the purple. “Doedimon, is it? I’m not here to hurt anyone; I’m just here to pick up my friend.”

There came a growl as Baboongamon lunged forwards, baring his teeth. “What kind of morons to you take us for? As soon as we let him go you’ll all go screaming to the Sovereignty!”

“I can promise, we have no intention of doing that. We’re here for our own reasons.”

“We’re still not letting you out of here.”

Mollumon straightened up, his eyes glowing in the gloom. “Think it through. If two of the Fire Kingdom ambassadors go missing at once in a district with known civil unrest, won’t that bring more unwanted attention onto you?”

Doedimon lowered his arm, the bolus clanging against the ground. His eyes flicked down, landing on Serpemon.

“Was this your plan?”

“I’ve got a good many plans on the go at any given time.” The snake clasped his hands in front of him. “I can honestly swear though, we’re not here to interfere with you. We’re just looking for answers.”

The head of the rebels looked unconvinced, but Lekismon shuffled forwards, padding his hands together. “To be fair, if they were out to ruin us they’d probably have brought someone else down.”

“They’re not bad people.”

Doedimon looked down, hearing the clanging of metal across the ground as Jazamon walked in. The bird looked up, with Morphomon hiding behind him. “One of them saved me from Hamadryamon. I think we should listen to them.”

Doedimon sighed, holding his hand up to his snout. Then he straightened up.

“You seem to have convinced a few of my friends. But I have no reason to trust you or give you anything.” He pointed up. “You and the octopus, leave now. We won’t pursue you or cause trouble for you, so long as you stay out of our way.”

Serpemon swayed back and forth. “Not even a little context from the guys on the ground?”

“This is an agreement. Not an alliance. You get one chance; this is it.”

Serpemon pondered trying to argue the point further, but as the larger of the rebels were starting to get on edge once again, he decided to forgo any further annoyance. He held his head low. “Thank you for your time then. And I’m dreadfully sorry for the intrusion.”

He turned to leave, his tail gliding effortlessly across the ground. Just before he left the tent, he paused, looking over his shoulder.

“We may be here on our own business, but we’re not heartless. If there’s anything we can get hold of for you, you only need to ask the question.”

Doedimon sat down, placing a fist on his cheek.

“Get out.”

Serpemon nodded coyly, and promptly obliged.

Mollumon was stood there, tapping impatiently, as his colleague deftly weaselled his way up the underside of the capital, like a gibbon plastered with an inane grin. He reached level with his colleague, still wearing that same smile. Mollumon didn’t even twitch.

“You are a moron.”

“I am a master of subterfuge and integration is what I am. Silly little things; they thought they had me captured and helpless.”

“See, these are the kinds of things which are going to get your face caved in with a morningstar one day.” Mollumon rolled his tentacles, holding the bridge of his beak. “Honestly, with Coremon picking fights with Hamadryamon and now you...was the phrase ‘keep a low profile’ lost on you both?”

He turned round, shimmying across the beams with a balanced precision himself. Serpemon glided after him, rolling his tail from side to side in waves.

“Thanks for having my back there.”

“I always would. I trust you’d do the same for me.” The octopus looked over his shoulder. “Did you find anything during your idiotic foray into the danger zone?”

Serpemon slumped, his crest drooping downwards. “Alas, very little. I met some nice people, they showed me around, but they seem to know less than we do.” He placed his hands behind his back. “Poor mites. I do feel for them.”

“I sympathise.” Mollumon paused, leaning against a vertical strut. “I got nothing either. At the end of the day, this city’s full of Digimon just trying their best to live their lives. What’s one more mystery in a foreign nation compared to all this?”

Serpemon pushed his bottom lip out, and sidled up to the other Elite, lowering his voice.

“I may have picked up on one thing. Only rumours and speculation, nothing we can use right now-“

“Anything’s better than nothing right now.”

Mollumon looked up, and noted his colleague hidden in the half-gloom, a rare serious expression over his face.

“It seems as if Digimon are disappearing around these parts...”

“Weren’t gonna head after them?”

Doedimon raised his head, eyes glowing beneath his hood. “They were offering an easy out and I went with it. I’m not really in much shape to be fending off home invasions.”

“Too bloody right y’not. Took enough out of yer poxy arm just luggin’ that wrecking-ball of yours.” Cutemon popped his head around the beast’s shoulder, and rolled the cloak back. “Here’ll do just fine, big man.”

“Oh god...”

Doedimon winced, as the Rebellimon pulled a palm back and struck it, hard, against the metal plate on his shoulder. It jerked back into place with a crack, immediately causing blood to ooze out from underneath it. Rebellimon pulled back, looking more sheepish than ever.

“I wish you’d give me a little more warning before you do that, doc.”

“All part of the procedure. Deal with it, ya granite-wrapped wuss,” crowed Cutemon, but he hopped up onto his assistant’s palms, holding out his own stubby arms as a green glow emanated from them.

The intrusion had caused a little excitement amongst the younger rebels, and a little disquiet among the older ones. But with a few firm words everyone was back to their usual jobs; handing out supplies, providing physical or mental care, keeping watch; all things they needed to keep their makeshift town afloat. Currently Lekismon and Tobiumon were tending to some of the other recently wounded, while Baboongamon sat crouched against the wall, dancing his great fingers around the floor as the two Sunerizamon twisted between them. He grumped, before raising his head.

“Were they really soldiers? They’re awfully small.”

“We’ve got smaller ones round here getting into bigger fights than those three have ever seen, I’ll wager.”

“I still think we’re in trouble. They’ll come back. Bring the sovereigns.”

“If they do, we’ll handle it.” Doedimon rolled his head sideways. “If we have to up and move again, so be it. We’re on the defensive here as it is.”

“Do you think...”

Lekismon began, but trailed off, gripping the bowl in front of him. He looked over at Tobiumon, who shook her head vigorously. But Doedimon’s voice piped up.

“Go on.”

The moon rabbit silently sparred with his companion, before turning round, skipping up to the great beast. “The Elites...they were offering help.”

“They can’t help us,”said the rebel leader bluntly, but Lekismon raised a hand.

“Listen, you just said we’re on the defensive. At some point we’re going to run out of places to run to. And even if they can’t help, well...” Lekismon’s foot tapped up and down, and he looked up.

“Whatever’s going on up there could be targeting them next...”

Doedimon stared at the rabbit. Then he leant forwards, brushing off Cutemon beside him to the sound of incredulous swearing.

“The Sovereignty’s looking after them, aren’t they? They’re guests.”

“Guests is a fine word,” snorted Cutemon, as he waddled between the two, rolling one tattooed arm. “Also, um...when exactly have those prats ever been ones to have guests?”

Lekismon nodded. “They seemed to be as in the dark as everything as we are. But the snake did mention Sifamon. Perhaps...maybe we can put something together if we can get together with them...”

“Lekismon...” Tobiumon walked up, resting a clawed hand on the rabbit’s shoulder. “You’re clutching at straws. Doedimon’s right; we should just leave them and-“

“I c...can’t see anyone else disappear like this.”

Lekismon held his elbows, his shoulders hunched as he looked aside. “This place...this town...we can’t keep it going as we are. Please Doedimon, we...need help.”

Doedimon’s head fell forwards, his palms resting against the ground. He let out a long sigh.

“There are too many of us down here to put everyone’s lives in the hands of three strangers.”

Lekismon glared up, but Doedimon raised a palm.

“That said, I have no say over what you decide to do. I’m not like the Sovereignty; I’m just trying to make it a safe space here.” He nodded. “If you truly think they can help then do what you think is necessary. Just please make sure you come home again.”

Lekismon gritted his teeth, and nodded, before pulling Tobiumon away and out of the shelter. Cutemon watched them go, twisting a finger in his ear.

“Now who’s clutchin’ at straws?”

“It’s hard to argue, honestly.”

Doedimon sat back, holding his arms wide as he stared at the mosaic of spines and spires above, glistening silver.

“We do need a miracle.”

The rest of the day for the Elites had been far less intimidating, as they’d decided it was in all of their best interests to stick together and not cause any more minor diplomatic incidents. Unfortunately, it proved even less effective at finding answers, as every new district and every new workforce they found gave them practically no time and even less in the terms of answers. Even as the domed skyline of the Spokes turned back from red to lilac to deep blue with the dimming of the light outside, they still searched, until Mollumon made the decision that they weren’t going to find anyone sensible out any more.

Back in their quarters, the mood was despondent. Hasdielmon had ducked in to ask after their stay and wellbeing, but the interaction was robotic at best. They were soon left alone again, with little to stare at but the walls, and each other. Even Mollumon’s pile of archive documents now sat in a roughshod bundle against one wall; all read, and none helpful.

Coremon curled up, pressing his palms against his eyes. “I’m starting to think that the best way of getting anywhere is going to be becoming ‘disappearances’ ourselves.”

Serpemon popped his cheeks, currently lying flat out on one of the benches, tracing patterns in the ceiling.

“You can’t really blame anyone. You’ve got indifference from above, anarchy from below, and three annoying people with clipboards waltzing around asking how you feel about the whole affair.”

“But we’re not here to give out surveys!” yelled Coremon, his face scrunching up as he leant forwards. “We’re here to find justice! Justice for them as well as us! There’s gotta be something else we can do!”

Mollumon huffed, and raised a tentacle, but the manticore whipped around, snarling at him. “You tell me to be patient one more time and I’m gonna thump you.”

“...how diplomatic of you.”

Serpemon held both his arms wide, “Hey now, no internal disputes. We’re a team. We have three good heads here; we still have two days to use them well.”

Coremon shrank back, holding his hands close to his chest as he quietly seethed. Mollumon cleared his throat. “Let’s take a step back. We can speculate all we want, but all we really have to go on is Sifamon.” He pointed a wiggling tentacle at Serpemon. “Given her tattoo I think we can confirm that she came from your new understorey friends.”

Serpemon sat up, rolling his tail globe back and forth. “True, but they all did seem genuinely bummed about her being missing. I’m not sure that they’re the ones who sent her.”

“Which fits with what we initially thought. She was hired, or forced, or...something. Working for someone else. And probably being disposed of afterwards as well.”

Coremon swallowed, standing up and wandering towards the window. “If people are disappearing that much around here, one more going missing wouldn’t really be out of the ordinary.” He gripped the pane, glaring at the court of the Sovereignty just a few blocks away. “There are certainly some people I can think of who wouldn’t give a damn about brushing off their citizens like that.”

Mollumon and Serpemon shared a look, before the octopus sighed.

“Satisfying as it may be, we can’t pin anything on any of them. Neither the Sovereigns nor the rebels. Feelings don’t lead to facts.”

Coremon’s head fell forwards, knocking against the pane.

“I know. I know I’m being hotheaded. It just feels like we’re running into the same walls again and again.”

He turned around, staring at his colleagues with wide blue eyes. “If we knew something...how they’re disappearing, how they’re coping, if anyonewould just allow us to-“

“Listen...”

The three Elites paused, all three of their ears flickering in tandem; Serpemon’s, Mollumon’s and finally Coremon’s. He turned around, just as something clattered against the window pane. The three froze, but the movement didn’t return; just the same translucent half-light as before.

Serpemon tilted his head, keeping his voice low. “Neither of you ordered in tonight, did you?”

“Hold on...”

Coremon pushed forwards, gently sliding the pane outwards as he looked at the district below. It was as pristine as usual, with everything shining a slight chrome, like the world had been painted in frost. There was nobody there. No sign of movement.

But as Coremon looked up, he saw a bundle tied to the sill, banging gently against the wall. A bundle with a very familiar looking symbol.

“What is it? Night post?” asked Serpemon, as he and Mollumon closed in. Coremon withdrew, closing the window behind him as he held the bundle out towards them.

“I...think we might have just gotten an answer at last.”

Gently they opened the package, unveiling a few fragments of tablet; shattered deliberately, but cleanly enough for reassembly by Serpemon’s dextrous fingers. Coremon was entirely right. It was an answer. Or more appropriately, it was a request.

Let’s talk. Lower north district, Terminal. Just you three.

Out of sight of the rumblings going on not a few blocks away, Hasdielmon stood on the upper balcony of the courthouse, his hands pressed against the rail as he stared out. It was a spectacular view; the blossoming metallic sculptures of the capital district, and beyond, each individual island. A pocket world, right at the palm of his hand.

He gripped the rail harder, the beauty of the scenery passing him by. The rings hovered around his skirts as he stared, jewel-like eyes shining in the dim light.

“Something on your mind?”

The angel started, and turned his head slightly, listening to the gentle tap tap as Gryllimon approached from behind.

“You do know how to sneak into one’s thoughts.”

“It’s my burden. I listen, and I watch. That’s all.”

She walked up beside him, tiny in comparison to the angelic golem, her hands still tapping in an infrequent, constant rhythm. Hasdielmon straightened up, his wings fluttering slightly.

“How much of this place can you see?”

Gryllimon didn’t answer straight away, holding her head low as her blindfold flickered in the breeze.

“Shapes and sounds. Heartbeats. It must be beautiful.”

“I wish I could see it…” Hasdielmon looked up, seeing the light of the dome. “This is supposed to be a haven; a place where those who wish for better life can find it. Look at them. They’re struggling so much.”

“We are supposed to be providing that haven for them.”

“I try to give what I can. To be the protector they need. But whatever I do, it won’t ever be enough.”

“Enough for them, or for you?”

Hasdielmon didn’t answer. There was silence between them, save for Gryllimon’s rhythmic tapping. She looked up, her harp-like legs flexing and letting off a low hum.

“For what it’s worth, the world outside is changing as well. War. Disaster. Conflict and conquest.”

Hasdielmon’s grip tightened on the rail, and Gryllimon noted a slight tremble in his hands.

“I’m very well aware of that.”

“There is peace here for now. Perhaps that will suffice.”

“The day we become complacent is the day we become irrelevant. And I don’t want that to happen while I still haven’t made things right.”

Gryllimon sighed. “You try and carry far too much. Isn’t it enough just to provide that haven?” She reached out, touching the base of his skirts. “So nobody else would go through what your village did.”

Another shake, and the balcony hummed as Hasdielmon turned away, holding his arms up against his chest. He clasped his hands, digging into the bandages wrapped around them, as Gryllimon watched with no expression. When the angel spoke again, there was a waver to his voice.

“It’s...my duty. My purpose. To counter that level of...wilful devastation. How such evil could exist in this world…I can still see his shadow…”

Gryllimon reached out, curling her slight hand around his wrist. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. It never will be. All I can do is stop it with me. I will bring about the justice I was denied.”

The angel’s eyes were unfocused, and distant, his entire body stiff and awkward. Gryllimon gently pulled her hand back, and brought them together again, tapping by habit.

“I know it all too well. I trust your heart. But the best intentions can still be deadly. Please remember that, Hasdielmon.”

The angel didn’t move, nor respond, nor try to stop her as she walked away, back towards the archives. Soon enough, he was alone again. He raised a palm, closing it into a bandaged fist.

“I don’t like this, Lekismon.”

Tobiumon coiled her tail in, growling nervously as she lay low beneath the dummy shelter; one of many throughout several districts which the rebels used to get around. Lekismon was a couple of steps ahead of her, eyes darting back and forth. The fish monster doubled down.

“There’s nobody else about. This is how we’ve lost people.”

“We’re gonna keep losing people if we don’t do something,” replied the rabbit, looking back with shining eyes. “I’m gonna put my faith in them. They can help us.”

“We don’t know anything about them.”

“Look…” Lekismon pressed his teeth together, before pushing the cover fully open. “I’m going. Stay behind if you want; I promise to keep it quick. This is just to make contact before we lose the chance.”

He pushed forwards, gently closing the cover behind him before Tobiumon could object again. He sniffed the air, before scurrying forwards, keeping between the spiral pillars and sculpted walls like he’d done so many times before. It made sense to use the labyrinthine mazes to get places; after all, if their escapes were obvious then the Sovereignty would come after them in a heartbeat.

His own heart was racing as he moved left and right, uncertain himself as to what he was going to find. But he carried on nonetheless, desperation driving him.

He turned a corner, seeing the meeting point just beyond him, and stopped dead. His ears flicked back, and he held himself against a wall, eyes fixed on the figure in the middle of the terminal. He could feel a warm aura; unfamiliar, and deep-reaching, pressing into his chest.

“Psst...get out of sight. We can’t be seen.”

The figure raised their head. And turned. And Lekismon pulled back further, as the aura changed. No. Strengthened. Dangerously so. His heart raced all the more, and he struggled to focus.

This wasn’t one of the Elites.

The shadow turned, and laser-bright eyes suddenly fell upon Lekismon, dazzling him, and he watched in horror as the entire front end of the creature seemed to split apart, revealing a disproportionately vast glowing maw.

The mouth opened. And Lekismon heard it.

...hehe...heheh ahahahahHAHAHA-

The shuttle glided silently, a mere wraith in the night as the three Elites laid low within it. There were many like it, passing inconspicuously between the different islands even this late at night. But there was a notable lack of any citizens; all of them holed up in their lodgings during the dark hours.

Mollumon shuffled nervously. “If we’re caught out here then it’s going to be difficult to explain.”

“So we won’t get caught then.” Coremon held the edge of the shuttle, watching as the platform approached. “We need answers.”

The octopus looked at the back of his head, his tentacles tightening against each other.

“Just be careful, alright? We don’t know what’s waiting for us.”

Chink.

The shuttle hit the terminal with only the slightest noise, and the wall opened up, providing them all with an exit. Coremon took a step, reaching out onto the soft metal, even as Serpemon flinched behind him.

“Wait just a-”

Coremon froze, one foot on the ground as he stared ahead. His shoulders hunched, involuntarily, and his mane bristled violently. Behind him, Serpemon’s ears were tight and his eyes were narrow, and Mollumon’s limbs wrapped tighter than ever.

They’d all felt it at once.

A harsh, violent intent, spreading across the terminal, accompanied by the smell of burning.

Mollumon pulled into his barrel, his eyes staring ahead. “Something’s wrong. Let’s get back.”

Coremon shook off the feeling, looking over his shoulder. “I...don’t...do you think this could be our contact?”

Serpemon’s head shook rapidly. “I’ve met their leader. There was nobody there like this-”

“AAAAAAAAAAAGH!”

The ear-splitting scream pierced out from the alleyway to the side, and Coremon found himself running before he’d even registered it, aiming straight for the source of the noise. Serpemon followed after, his tail sweeping back and forth for increased speed, while Mollumon galloped panicked after them, calling for them to come back.

Coremon turned the corner first, coming face to face with Tobiumon as she whipped round towards him. Serpemon skidded into view, holding up a hand.

“It’s us. We came like you sa-”

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!?”

The flying fish arched her back, her eyes rattling as she stared at the now three Elites before her. Serpemon gabbled, waving his hands back and forth. “We’ve only just got here, I swear-”

“Serpemon, look!”

Mollumon pointed, and suddenly all three of them saw it; the twisted pile of white and grey behind Tobiumon, still glowing with colourless embers. Coremon flinched, feeling the smell and the burning sensation digging into him, and he shot Tobiumon a panicked look.

“What...happened-”

“DON’T COME NEAR ME! STAY BACK!”

The fish twisted on the spot, scrambling against the metallic ground, and she scuttled back into the shadows before any of them could follow her.

Not that any were trying, as they all three of them were horrifically transfixed on the pile of ashes, now fully in view. Coremon held his throat, feeling the nausea take hold of him as he stared.

“God…”

Lekismon’s body lay there, twisted and rent against the burning metal, with an expression of terror frozen on his face. The image was perfect, down to the imprints of his fur, or at least, it would have been had it not been for the peppered scars and chunks taken out of him, some of them still glowing at the base with the white ashes. There was no colour to him at all; the light lilac and silver replaced with dun grey.

Serpemon swallowed, clenching and unclenching his gloved hands.

“I think this was our contact…”

Coremon looked up and down the area, seeing the scorch marks against the walls, and the huge, bestial footprints embedded into the metal.

“What...happened to him? Who did this to him?”

Mollumon’s gaze darkened, as a portion of Lekismon’s face crumbled in on itself, unable to keep its shape.

“...the same thing that happened to Sifamon…”

“What’s going on?”

“I heard screaming.”

Lights and sounds emanated from all around, bathing the area in patches of blue and yellow. Mollumon tensed, looking all around, before pressing a tentacle to his beak.

“Oh no…”

Suddenly he lunged forwards, grabbing Coremon and Serpemon and pulling them back. “We’ve got to get out of here right now!”

“We can’t leave!” Coremon resisted, looking back and forth with panic in his eyes. “Whatever did this is still out there!”

“Please, trust me. We’re in danger if we stay.”

The octopus began to run, Serpemon keeping pace and Coremon being dragged behind him as they all headed towards the shuttle. The lights were coming on at a rate now, and Mollumon could see the first of the curious neighbours pulling out of their residences.

He thrust a tentacle forwards, throwing Coremon into the shuttle as the manticore scrambled to his feet. “Get back there right now! They’re in danger!”

“Coremon, think about it. We sneak out at night to meet with the rebels and one of them ends up dead.”

Serpemon shut the door, the shuttle pulling away from the terminal as he looked back. Mollumon reached forwards, grabbing Coremon by the shoulders as he stared into the manticore’s eyes.

“Don’t you see? Someone here’s out to get us. Something evil’s going on here, and we’re the scapegoats. We’re being set up.”

Coremon’s breathing was rapid, and his stare was wild, meeting with the octopus’s flaming eyes. But he stopped pushing back, his limbs falling by his side.

“This...this is worse than I imagined…”

The lights pierced the dim atmosphere, and the three of them looked back out the shuttle, the lower north district now a significant distance away. Though not far enough to mask the first of the horrified screams, as the murder in the night was discovered once again.

Serpemon placed a thumb to his lips, gnawing against the claw.

“Oh, we are in deep trouble now…”