"I've never let anyone get close to me before."
- Yamato "Matt" Ishida
Digimon Adventure 1
When the PSA had started, Nina had immediately switched the channel, thinking little of it. It wasn't until she realized that it was being broadcast on every channel that she reluctantly decided to sit back and wait it out. Her hand rested gently on the back of Dorumon, who laid curled up next to her on the couch.
This is a public service announcement issued by the United States Department of Defense. It is highly advised that all citizens within Eastern Standard time tune in to this broadcast. Repeat; the currently airing broadcast is to be viewed by all states within the Eastern Standard timezone.
Nina watched the suit-clad man on the TV, playing absentmindedly with the remote in her hand. She wasn't really sure what she was expecting to hear. Has there been some sort of industrial accident, she wondered. She wasn't one to worry much, and she figured that if something big had happened near where she lived she would probably already have been aware. The girl would be taken aback, however, when the man on screen suddenly spoke a very strange phrase. Her thumb fumbled for the volume button. Surely, she must have misheard. But the captions were right there at the bottom of the screen, and they did not betray the man's words. "The... 'Protection against Digital... Extraterrestrials Act', " she repeated the broadcast transcript slowly with a furrowed brow. Dorumon lifted his head.
The door to the apartment opened and closed later that evening. The young girl who stepped inside began taking her coat off in the hall, hearing the faint noise of the TV coming from the living room. "I'm home," she announced. The small bunny-eared Digimon clinging to her back jumped down onto the floor. "Jane," her roommate called her name. There was an odd sense of urgency in her voice. The girl stood with her coat in her arms, watching Nina emerge from behind the wall. The TV was still on, she noted. Although not quite sure why, Jane had fixated over small observations over the past few days, ever since that night. Anything that made noise. She would like to think she wasn't still so shaken up over the event - but this denial faded every time she acknowledged the sound of a breeze through an open window, or the distant ding of the building elevator. She wouldn't have thought about those things before. But now she was standing here, looking at her best friend while trying to figure out what commercial was playing on the TV in the other room.
"Hello," Jane answered with a soft smile and turned to hang up her coat on the wall. It's probably that new holiday perfume one, she thought. She recognized the music. "How are you?" No answer. She looked at Nina and knew now that something had to be off. Appearance wise she was fine, she didn't look hurt at all, and not any different for that matter. Her long dark hair was up in a ponytail as always. She was wearing one of her faded vinyl band shirts. Be careful when you wash it, Jane had told her time and time again. Looking at it now, she almost wanted to roll her eyes at how chipped the print had gotten.
"Jane, they--... "
"... What's wrong? You're starting to worry me, Nina."
"..."
"Nina?"
"They know about Digimon."
"... What? Who knows?"
"They-- Everyone, everyone will soon. It was on TV."
The sun was setting and the park was empty. A boy sat alone on the swing set. His messanger bag sat next to him on the ground, leaning against one of the metal beams. He had never packed it so heavy before. The ache in his shoulder was still there after taking it off. The weight had really done a number on him during that 20 minute walk from the bus stop. However, he hadn't sat down in the park in order to rest. The truth was that he didn't really want to reach his actual destination - he was stalling for time. The growing cold was now condensing his breaths into puffs of mist. He buried his chin further into his scarf as a shiver traveled up his back. Atop his head, the small orange Patamon sat and peered down at the his phone screen. He had originally taken the device out as an easy distraction, something to calm his nerves. But his anxiety would instead take a turn for the worst when he opened his social media only to find a new government issued PSA flooding his timeline.
The boy and his Digimon sat utterly dumbfounded. When the video came to an end, they both remained silent for a little bit. The boy shivered again. Patamon folded her wings out and let them fall down on each side of his head, hoping it would provide him some sort of warmth. "Are you worried, Alex?" she squeaked softly. He picked at the edge of his phone. "I feel alone," he eventually answered with a shrug. "You're not alone," Patamon cooed, "we're here to meet your friends, remember?"
"I'm scared to see them."
"But you know them, Alex."
"We've only spoken online. It's different. I'm not ready to see them."
"Did you really come all the way here just to turn back?"
Alex swallowed looked down. He saw his legs shaking now from the cold. He knew he was only a block or two away from their apartment. "This is gonna change things," he mumbled and tightened his grip on his phone. Patamon scoffed at the thought of the video. "You think they're gonna split us up? No way, not happening!"
"It's-- It's not that simple, Patamon. This is the government. If they know about Digimon, then..." Alex trailed off. "They won't leave a scratch on us," the little Digimon stubbornly insisted again. Flapping her wings, she hopped off of his head in order to hover in front of the boy's face. "I said I would always be with you, and I mean that! I won't let you be alone, ever!" Alex flashed a weak smile. "... Thank you." Patamon flew closer and bumped her nose against his.
"Come on, now. Let's go see your friends."
Midnight rolled around. Mickie held the finely cut crest piece up towards the ceiling light, peering at the details of the purple crystal. It sure did look like the real deal. If it's a fake then it's one helluva replica, he thought.
"You heard the news, I assume."
Mickie slowly turned his gaze away from the crest, looking to Annie. "Sure," he answered as he took the golden pendant from his pocket, reinserting the crest into it's proper place. The woman stood up from her workplace and turned towards him. "Do you know what this will mean?" She adjusted her shirt collar. Mickie looked at her for a moment, his lids low from dissintrest. She was using that slow, lecturing tone again that he hated. "The big bad lawmen are gonna throw us in jail," he teased and began pacing the floor. Annie snorted softly. "No, but this will complicate things more or less." Mickie grunted, looking elsewhere.
"I'll be fine, of course. And I'm sure you'll manage as well."
"How the hell did you even make this?" Mickie held up the crest towards her. Annie paused briefly before carrying on, ignoring his question.
"This will with no doubt stir up political conflict. I wouldn't be surprised if this causes riots, wars even."
"Water will turn to blood, every firstborn will die and the streets will run rampant with frogs and lice - the whole shebang! Plagues, plagues, plagues-"
"I don't care what side you pick in all of this, Mickie. I'm just giving you a heads up."
"Yeah?"
"I'm already in the process of taking control of the Digiworld, It won't be hard to take this one as well. All I'm saying is that you will have new decisions to consider. We all will."
Mickie turned back to meet her gaze, tossing the crest up and down in his hand.
"That's rather ambitious, darling," he murmured with a slanted grin. "Becoming God..."
Annie smiled back at him, calmly straightening her tie.
"I'm already halfway there."
2 AM. Jeff looked out the window. The news was nothing but muffled sounds in the background, white noise. He had been told the broadcast was to be aired today - or yesterday to be exact. He hadn't watched it. He didn't want to think about Burlenstein. The need for sleep felt distant. Jeff looked down at his crest once again, humiliation rising within him. What happened? Why had he frozen? He couldn't help but feel as if he was growing weaker day by day. More helpless. First it was Burlenstein, then Mickie, then it had been that-- that thing. That thing that had horrified him beyond any reasonable measure. Frustration turned to blurry vision. The man stared at his reflection in the window, watching the tears well up. He saw that little kid, the one who wore glasses and kept his head down everyday. Sinking to the floor, he put his head to the wall and wrapped his arms around himself, because he knew no one else would.
