Begennings
Excerpt from Dylan Murphy's The Final Conflict:
Digimon. Originally a development of functional AI at a Tokyo university, through various processes, they broke the bounds of their original code and began to develop new routines of their own, even to break the boundaries of the world of electrons and transistors. Through a new process where their code was converted into proteins and amino acids, they became living creatures, retaining their destructive abilities which manifested themselves in precisely the same way that had in the Digital World. At first, they were tolerated in the real world; no one really understood precisely what it was they were, and what they were doing. Since they chose children as their companions, they seemed innocent and innocuous enough, although as they grew in number, they were only barely tolerated. The peace was tenuous at best. Tensions mounted, and incidents began to occur.
No one knows who dealt the first lethal blow, and it is extremely unlikely that anyone ever will, since the place where it happened had long since been nuked out of an existence, suspected of being one of the central command points for the Digitals, courtesy of the Russian military. The solidarity between Digimon--which, ironically, did not exist in their own world, but was brought about as a function of the minor oppression that they were under in the real world--manifested itself, and they quickly mounted a united defensive. [. . .] The first human territorial loss was lower Asia and Japan, which the European Union quickly bombarded into oblivion, damning the humans that were that that had not already met their deaths. Retrospectively, this was probably not the best of ideas, since it spurned them to action to collectively move against Russia next, continuing their conquest of human civilization in which they would control the humans, rather than the other way around.
Russia immediately launched a counter-offensive. The First Battle of Vladivostok claimed the lives of several thousand humans--no one knows precisely how many Digitals were eliminated, since their comrades simply absorbed the data of their fallen allies and used it for themselves. The first battle of Vladivostok was the most bloody of the war--not because of the sheer power the enemy was wielding, but because the army of the Russian Federation was trying to combat them using the same tactics that they would if they were invaded by neighboring China, Poland, or the like. [. . .] Rather than yielding ground to the digitals, the Russian Army pushed forward again after their original defeat, this time favoring an armored advance supported by sharpshooters and artillery, with only the smallest of infantry--partially because their infantry had been demolished by the previous battled three weeks earlier, but also partially because there was no advantage they could use them toward at the moment, and they knew it. General of The Army Mikhail Stukov, observing and directing the battle personally via satellite, recorded the outcome of the battle, which was laboriously studied literature for the rest of the war--and, of course, remains to be:
To those who aren't familiar with the M-198 howitzer, it's an incredibly powerful piece of military hardware. What it lacks for in the modern sophistication of flechette rounds and energy weapons, it makes up for in brute force. We thought that thirty of them would be far more than sufficient to take out any hostile forces in the field--human, digital, anything. Firing the incendiary round, we believed that we could achieve wide-area field dominance simply by bombarding the area over and over again, setting up a mobile unit and trapping the remainder of their forces into the valley [. . .] We were wrong. They proved far more capable than we had originally thought. Their first advance was handled with relative ease, using the M-198s and the arms fire from the tanks stationed just forward of the artillery line for its protection. [. . .] The next time that a barrage was requested, however, nothing happened. Not a thing. At the time, I had no idea what was going on. I had no way of knowing that a number of Digitals had managed to sneak behind the front lines and started killing off my artillery crews [. . .]
The destruction of the first defensive line, however, did not mark the end of the battle. A number of forces, both infantry and mechanized, managed to make their way behind these new stealthy enemies, effectively flanking them between the artillery and the tanks. However, they themselves were flanked on the other side by the forces in the valley, who were moving steadily forward despite the barrage of localized defensive fire to prevent that advance [. . .]
Years ago, at the front:
A sharp crack issued forth from a sharpshooter's rifle, aimed directly at a fuzzy, transparent mass utilizing some kind of stealth ... thing. The 'cloak' or whatever it was went away, replaced by the spray of blood that issued from where its head used to be at one point. She go no small amount of satisfaction from the action, and angrily loaded another round into the chamber.
"I've got your data right here," she to herself from her secluded, brush-covered location, scoping in on another target that was strapping their own standard-issue explosives packages onto the top of one of the tanks. Another shot rang out, and another target fell, and another round was loaded from the magazine all before the shot's brass casing fell to the ground.
For some people, war is hell.
For other people, such as Rachel, war somehow bequeathed an adrenaline rush and excitement unparalleled anywhere else in the universe. The anticipation that built up as she compensated her aim for wind and distance, that feeling of release that lasted for one tenth of a second as the round traversed the distance from its shooter to the target, and the feeling of satisfaction as the round penetrated exactly where she had wanted it to go. It was the ultimate emotional release for her. When she was first selected for sniper training based on her marksmanship scores, she had been told that emotion had no place in a sniper's mind.
She was no sniper. She was a sharpshooter, and a good one. In this battle alone, she had six confirmed kills, even with that damn cloaking thing some of them were doing. All of them were headshots nonetheless, and each one of them seemed to instantaneously bring down their targets. Someone started to yell for reinforcements through her headset, but she far too focused on tracking her next target as it emerged up one of the numerous hills in the area, obviously planning to move the long way around and hit the reserves. Another shot rang out from the PSG-1, and its 7.62mm round penetrated the skull of the target, which fell to the ground and fragmented into a thousand pieces of data or whatever the hell it was they were made of.
Even if she wasn't constantly aware of how many rounds remained in her weapon, she could have told by the sound of the autoloader as it slid back into position that it wouldn't have been able to fire again for lack of another round. Using a single hand, she deftly removed the magazine from the rifle and flung it aside, inserted a new one than pulled back the slide to load the first round into the chamber. She was on her fourth magazine now, totaling forty rounds plus the one extra that had been in the chamber when she started. So, 10 rounds. 10 rounds was all she had left. She wasn't delusional--she was quite aware that this could very well be her last day, but if she was going to go out, she was going to go out with a bang. In full, semi-automatic mode, she rained down half of her magazine onto a group of Digitals who were working on pulling one of the tank crews out of their vehicle. Smoke poured out of the barrel vents, and five brass casings fell to the ground, each one clinking in time with the fall of the Digimon that it's bullet had killed.
"All infantry squads fall back! Fall back to secondary defensive positions!" The order, delivered by their battalion commander, blared through her headset as if its sole function was to disrupt the acquisition of her next target.
Each one of the individual squad leaders--at least, the ones that were still alive--responded with some variation of 'affirmative'. A retreat. Wonderful. Still, she supposed that it was better than dying. But she wasn't going to return with any unspent ammunition--that would just be crude, if not downright stupid. She stood up and jammed the butt of the rifle into her shoulder, looking down the scope at a particularly large Digimon, a tall, sword-wielding Digital that she didn't like the looks of. As large as it was, and wearing a helmet to boot, the 7.62 HV round that she had loaded at the moment wouldn't have done anything by itself.
"Heh..." she laughed at herself.
It would take a lot more than that to stop her. She pounded three rounds in a perfect triangle into the Digimon's helmet to weaken it. Satisfied with that, she put two more rounds--her last two--directly into the front center of the helmet, one after another. The near-constant pressure from the barrage was enough to punch through the tough protection of the helmet, and evidently through the not-so-tough protection of the creature's skull. It fell to the ground, unmoving for a few seconds, then fragmented into a thousand bits of constituent data. That data, like the data of all of the other Digimon that she had killed, was quickly absorbed by its nearest comrade. Most people would have found that sight incredibly disturbing, or at least disheartening--after all, on top of basically eating their fallen compatriots, they were only becoming stronger from their comrade's death. Ah, well. Whatever. Picking up th bipod she had been half-using from the ground, she rushed back to the forward command post with her pistol drawn.
Her Russian commanders, accompanied by a number of 'experts' on Digimon were sitting at the command post, protected by point-defense auto-cannons that for whatever reason had been placed back here at the command post instead of at the front, where they possibly could have been used to prevent the loss of the tanks.
Rachel realized that they were inevitably leaving behind those troops who weren't able to reach the command post. whenever she had to leave people behind like that, even people she didn't know or even know of, she always felt a brief pang of regret. The rest of her squad, which she had been placed with earlier today after her arrival from Stalingrad, was not present where everyone was being loaded up into tanks and APCs.
Until she was placed on this special assignment, she had been a member of an international counter-terror unit used to handle high-profile hostage cases. Personally, it been pretty boring for her, since she was used more as a spotter than anything else, and she got little to no personal satisfaction from that. It didn't take someone with her skill, training, and expertise to sit there and stare through a scope for five hours and watch a hostage-taker eat the lunch that had been sent up to him by the negotiator, and wait until he got talked down by that negotiator into releasing his hostages.
That was of little interest, really. She wanted action and excitement; she wanted the feeling that came with placing an armor piercing, fin-stabilized round directly into the forehead of an unsuspecting enemy. A perverted pleasure, maybe, but there were certainly ones that were more so. Of course, all of that had ended with this whole 'Digimon' thing, and she had volunteered to go with a special force that was being formed to assist the Russian Federation and examine the strength of the Digitals force while at Vladivostok. As for the Digimon, she had never encountered any personally, although she knew that they were quite capable of killing people from the briefing that she had received after the incidents in Asia.
She looked around the interior of the antiquated Russian APC she was in, cramped with the bodies of about twenty other soldiers--she was one of the lucky half or so that were lucky enough to have a seat. The others were standing. Some of her seated allies were bearing wounds that looked like bites and scratches--some of those wounds looked quite nasty. That was another reason she liked to stay slightly behind the front line. Adrenaline from taking out enemies was one thing, but adrenaline from a wound in your shoulder that gushes blood is an entirely different thing; it came with a price that she didn't really want to pay.
Ah, well. They would be fine eventually, she wasn't worried. Resting her head against the metal bulkhead, she closed her eyes and went to sleep. It was a long drive to Vladimir.
The battle for Vladivostok was a particularly devastating one. Experiencing losses both in armor and in infantry, the Russian Army eventually ended up holing itself up in Eastern Russia, forming a defensive barrier in diagonal line focused between Stalingrad and Moscow. For whatever reason, it seemed that the Digimon were dealing with their human enemies one country at a time. They easily could ave moved downward and attacked Germany, Poland, the Czech Republic, et cetera, but they did not, unfortunately for the Russian Federation. One good thing came of this, however. All of the scientific minds in the world in related fields had turned their attention on developing a method to defeat the Digitals; at the very least, a way to force them back into the digital world where they could hopefully be controlled.
Some of the more adventurous of these minds even dared to brave the presence of Digimon a few hundred kilometers away to conduct their research on hefty military grants. On the side, they were commissioned to familiarize the bulk of their personnel with Digimon. One of the most prolific of these researchers that we have record of is Dr. Dylan West, graced with the title of PhD in theoretical physics and a master's in computer science at the young age of 24. Before the war started, he tried to concern himself with the mechanisms and processes of how the Digitals were able to exist in the Real World. Later, he would prove to be an instrumental figure in the figure in the humans actions behind the war in roles beyond being a scientist, but for this period in time, we are fortunate to have some of these informal 'lectures' in recorded form, courtesy of the Doctor himself; he was prone to recording these sessions in case he developed a new idea or theory in the process:
"'What are Digmon?' That's the question, isn't it? [Nervous laugh] Well, originally, they were simple computer programs with a number of attributes that would 'battle' each other, then incorporate the defeated program's code into their own. Obviously, this is fundamentally chaotic and uncontrollable at the very core [. . .] change is not only inevitable, it is the only way that they can become 'stronger'. Not surprisingly, after the host computers were shut down due to lack of funding, they simply moved elsewhere on the internet; poorly firewalled fileservers were a common place for them to end up. Absorbing what they found here, many 'viruses' that plagued the contents of these servers in the late 90's were really the work of these programs as they moved from server to server in their
quest for data. Eventually, they became complicated enough that they went beyond the boundaries of regular artificial intelligence simulations and started to develop such things as an 'asexual' form of reproduction. In later years, this would turn into a sexual one, mirroring the evolutionary process here in the real world in favor of variance based on random mutation. They became more complicated and social--or at least, some of them did--so much so that they were no longer restricted to the world of zeroes and ones that they had existed in [. . .] many people have spen years trying to figure it out, myself among them, and I firmly believe that whoever figures out precisely how that is possible wil be in for a number of fellowships and prizes. But don't expect that to be me [light laugh] [. . .] anyway, they eventually grew complicated and sophisticated that they were able to exist here [. . .]" ...
"...that they were able to exist here, and since then, they've been doing that here in our world. As you are all well aware, they came here with all of their abilities and special attacks."
"If they're so powerful, how are we supposed to kill them?" Someone asked. Rachel sighed, leaned back in her seat, and started tracing the grain of the wood in the table with her eyes. What the hell was she doing here? She should at least be on the range at times like this, either practicing herself or as a trainer, not sitting here in a classroom listening to some ed from Harvard or whatever. A well-placed bullet would work just as well as anything he could possibly give them.
"That's usually the second question I get asked every day," the man said, taking a seat on the desk at the front of the room. I know that you're all thinking this is just the pedantic, pontificating claptrap of some professor from Harvard. For one thin, I'm not a professor, I'm a researcher." he grinned. "And it's Wentworth, not Harvard. To answer your question ... it's the same one that I've been asked by generals, admirals, scientific and military advisors, and--" the 'researcher', who was wearing large, thick-rimmed glasses gestured to the group of people seated in front of him--"soldiers. Like you and me, they are living organisms, and are ultimately answerable to the same laws that govern mammalian and reptilian life. Their ... abilities may seem to change that, but fundamentally, they are nothing more than glorified animals, and can be killed by anything that would kill you or me, for the most part. At the moment, the best information that I can give you is that you should catch them unaware. We have theories about new technologies that would give you slightly more ... punch ... than that, but at the moment, I don't have anything to hand you and tell you to press a button to give you that effect."
"Doctor, I've heard of some people having Digimon that they've been very close friends with, even lived with ... can you explain that to me?"
"Ah. Now there's something I haven't been asked before while here. Ye, you are correct. They're called tamers, and there are still a few of them hidden around the world, where they're closely guarded for research purposes. That's where most of our experimental data comes from." While that didn't really surprise Rachel--back when she had been in the states, there were a few of these 'tamers' in the small town that their base was located in. She hadn't spent much time with them, or even gotten to really know them by any measure, but she knew that they existed.
"... don't look so surprised, Corporal. They aren't all bad."
"I find that hard to believe Doctor!" The young man snapped. "They killed my squad leader--they ate him! They ate him!"
"You're speaking of them as if they were a singular entity, which they aren't. You can't judge a race based on the most extreme examples. If that were true, than the entire human race would have to be as ruthless as Stalin or as insane as Jack the Ripper, or--"
"They ate him! You have no idea what's that like, you weren't there!"
"..." He didn't seem to have an answer for that. When he asked if there were any more questions, Rachel decided that she had one. Even though she already had in her mind what the answer was going to be, she asked it anyway.
"What do they want?"
"We don't really know. But even if I did, that would probably be classified higher than you," he said with only a hint of regret in his voice. Thus far, this 'expert' had told them absolutely nothing except what Digimon were, and she didn't need to know that. All she needed to know was whether or not her rifle could kill them, which evidently it could. It already had. Since this whole thing was optional anyway, she simply got up and left. Time for some target practice. Whenever she was on base, she made it a point to unload at least one magazine into a target on a daily basis; some of it was to show everyone else how good she was, but she also did it to try to improve her accuracy beyond what it was--or at least work on shooting in different ways than normal. Especially with pistol. Not anything really exotic, like firing two at once blindly and hoping that she would hit something; that kind of thing was reserved for cowboy recruits and dull-witted civilians.
She checked her name on a register of personnel--as if anyone actually read that anyway at this point--and looked around the lockers in search of a rifle that wasn't a complete piece of crap. Her own modified PSG-1 was sitting in a locked cabinet elsewhere, but she hadn't used that on a range since she had been in Texas. Eventually she came to a decision and instead just picked up some Russian-made pistol that she didn't recognize. Not new in age, it looked quite old, but it was new to her because she didn't immediately recognize the model. It was probably something hanging around in existence from the end of the Soviet Era. There was a lot of that kind of thing around, so it didn't come as much of a surprise to her. She removed the slide to inspect it briefly before returning it to its place, deciding that it was usable--barely--loaded a magazine, and slipped it into the grip of the pistol.
Normally, she wouldn't have pulled back the slide until she was pointing it downrange at the target, but there was no one around and she was fairly confident in her ability to handle a pistol, so she didn't bother with it. She fired at the target while moving in its direction, then kneeling down about thirty feet in front of it and unloading the rest of the clip--not something that she found particularly challenging, but there wasn't really anything else for her to do around here.
About twenty minutes and a box of ammunition later, she decided that she was done for the day and put the aged weapon back in its place. Her Russian superiors, in their infinite wisdom, had seen fit to place her in a mixed squad with people who had been sent here for reasons similar to her own. They were also scheduled for outpost duty later that afternoon. She found it somewhat insulting for someone of her qualifications to be placed on guard duty, and normally would have protested against such an insult quite verbally, but these times were an exception.
She had never been in Russia, which was kind of surprising, given the political situation in the area. Why the Digitals would want to attack something so remote was beyond her--she figured that they were simply testing the resolve and power of the non-Asian world, but such strategems were beyond her position to contemplate on. She wasn't entirely sure she liked the way they ended up being deployed on outpost, with the rest of her (new) squad spaced out in regular intervals in front of her with her overlooking them. It would have been a fine formation if they were expecting a large scale assault, but she didn't think that was very likely to happen anytime soon. If anything, she thought they would be encountering either a small group of them testing out their security, or perhaps an individual one looking for a few humans. She liked to think that there would be at least a little bit of forewarning before they were assaulted by the main force.
Every so often, someone would break radio silence and try to make conversation, but each time they id, the squad leader quickly silenced them with a barked command. Eventually they stopped trying and they were left in complete silence to stare out at the cold, empty roads.
Kaizramon watched from afar as a group of humans stared forward where they were probably expecting an attack to come from. There was somethng strangely familiar about one of them...the female who was laying down on top of of a rocky outcropping with her black-barreled weapon pointed in the same direction that she was looking.
Kaizramon could have passed for human if he wanted to by covering his face, although he would have looked very out of place in this setting with his wardrobe, which consisted of a starch-white vest, suit, and coat. It was too bad that it wasn't snowing here--it would have made for an excellent camouflage; not that he needed it against these humans, since they were looking entirely in the wrong direction anyway. Or at all, for that matter, since he was capable of moving faster than their weak little eyes could begin to track him. Had they been looking at him, though, his face could have been mistaken for another humans at a distance. Up close, however, it was an angled, almost snakelike face sporting numerous short, sharp teeth.
That human wasn't like the others--and it wasn't just because she was female. She had an air of confidence around her that all of the others he had encountered so far lacked. A test of that courage was in order, he thought. And perhaps one in ability, as well.
It only took a fraction of a second for him to travel the two hundred feet or so between him and the humans. They'd never what was about to hit them unless he decided to let them know--which he planned on doing. A flick of his wrist and a pull of a hand later, five razor-sharp, nearly-invisible silver wires connected to his fingers wrapped themselves around the first human. He waited longer--much, much longer--than he would in a fight against any Digimon before doing anything. He was putting on a show--they had to be able to see him if they were going to get anything out of it. Whether they wanted to or not was beside the point, and he didn't care anyway.
In the last few seconds of his life, the humans head turned backwards to see what was grabbing him. Kaizramon could almost taste the fear that the human was exuding--it was exhilarating, and it brought a smile to his face when he sensed it. It always did, it was one of the things that he enjoyed most about being here in the Real World: the humans truly, genuinely feared Digimon. Of course, they had good reason to.
Like this. He punctuated the statement in his mind to himself by pulling backwards with both of his hands. It was as if there was no resistance at all--the humans two arms instantly, cleanly split off, cut at the base by the adamantite threads that served as his singular weapon. Blood literally sprayed everywhere. Everywhere except onto Kaizramon. In a further demonstration of his abilities, he had dodged and moved out of the way of every single drop of blood that left the humans weak and fragile body.
Next came the humans legs with a similar motion. The human screamed in agony for the first time, since it had taken the slow body of the member of the lesser species that long to register what was happening to him. The Kaizramon found it pathetic that if he had surprised him, he could have quite easily torn him limb from limb without him ever knowing it all.
For that....the humans head would be next. He could--and probably should have--done something a little bit more in style with his character and executed some kind of elaborate coup de grace, but the scream was really starting to get on his nerves, and he planned to silence it. With one quick, clean swipe of his hand, an adamntite thread slid effortlessly through his neck. The head that was attached to it slipped off and started falling, the remainder of his blood leaving his body through an arterial spray via the jugular vein.
And it all happened before the human's arms that he had removed earlier fell to the ground.
"Fire! Fire! Kill it!" the command yelled out, accompanied by the commencement of machine-gun and assault rifle fire. Rachel tried to sight in the target over and over again. Each time she got the sights anywhere near the Digimon, it either moved out of the way or changged direction suddenly, rendering leading it completely impossible. She grunted in frustration, letting off a wild shot in the vague direction of the thing. It missed, of course--which did nothing to further calm her state of mind--but she at least had to try.
This was precisely why she had thought that spreading out over such distances was a stupid idea. Only one of her squad was close enough to even approach hitting the creature at a time. The others were just wasting ammunition and giving away their position. Whatever this thing was, it was fast. Incredibly fast--the sniper's eyes weren't even capable of seeing where he was going most of the time, and only got a glimpse of him when he stopped to sneer at one of his attackers or to kill one of them.
The largest and beyond a doubt the most physically strong member of the group was the heavy gunner, carrying a large PK machine-gun left over from the soviet era that had found its way into the hand of the quartermasters somehow. All the bullets in the world wouldn't have helped him now, though. Whatever this damn Digital was or what it wanted, it was simply too fast for the small group of humans to deal with.
Kaizramon was going to have fun with this one. Maybe he'd give this one a chance to fight him. First, he was going to have to do something about that gun of his. He zipped froward, working a little harder than he had to before to dodge the shots, and ended up behind the human a few seconds later.
"You're going to have to do better than that," he sneered. "Maybe you're better at hand to hand?" he grinned and stepped back, offering the human the first strike. He probably would have shot him--only he wasn't able to now since his weapon was in pieces on the ground. This human looked a little bit more physically strong than the others, so he was probably more confident in his abilities to at least amuse Kaizramon with his death.
And amuse he did. The first strike that the human made was met by a quick counter that was quickly retracted to give his foe another chance, which he wasted by trying to establish a hold on Kaizramon. It might have worked, too, if the creature hadn't been all of a thousand times slower than he was in his reaction time. Instead of grabbing a hold of Kaizramon's forearms, it was reversed, and the human was deftly flipped over Kaizramon's shoulders and onto is back. Weakling, he thought with satisfaction, watching his opponent waver and start to stand back up. Still wanting to give him a sporting chance, more to stave off his own boredom than anything else, he opened himself up for yet another attack. A hand moved toward his head, but it was quickly checked and rolled downward by the wrist and elbow. Twisting little further, the arm quickly snapped. As the human keeled over, either in pain or in some counter that Kaizramon couldn't forsee, he brought his knee up and smashed it into the jaw of the pathetic thing, snapping his neck and dropping him to the ground.
The next two he dealt with in a way similar to the first; only he dealt with them both at the same time, using individual fingers to hold limbs rather than whole hands. The effect was much more fulfilling, though. For a moment, he regretted that he hadn't lured them all into one place somehow. It would have been nice to show off his ability to fight against multiple enemies simultaneously. Ah, well. In a spray of blood, the remaining two humans--not counting the one on the ledge, who had long since given up trying to hit him with her weapon--the two bodies were torn apart, leaving behind bloodied stumps and torsos where once a whole being had stood. With that, he adjusted his gloves and turned his eyes discreetly to the solitary female.
"That was fun..." he commented, looking at her face to try and get her reaction to the moment. Kaizramon found it extraordinary, the amount of calm and control she was exhibiting. Having been in a kneeling position before, she stood up and pulled a small pistol from her side, leveling it directly at Kaizramon. "You'll have to do more than that," he hissed, repeating what he had said to one of others. "I can read your movements while you're still thinking about them."
She responded by firing a single shot at him. Had he not done anything, it would have hit him squarely in the forehead. She was a good shot...much better than those bodies behind him. Maybe that was why she had been sitting up here on a ledge, to try and hit any enemies with that long-barreled rifle.
He sidestepped the round, letting it fly by his head, then grinned at his new opponent--a wide, toothy grin. That grin stemmed partly from a desire to strike fear into the heart of the human, and partially from the fact that it didn't.
"What do you want?" she asked, keeping the small weapon pointed at him.
"The same thing that we all want."
"And what is that?"
"Well..." Kaizramon grinned and separated the female's hands apart, wrapping his weapons around her wrists. Her own weapon fell harmlessly to the ground, and she struggled against the upper body strength of the physically superior Digimon. "First ... we want you to die."
"Then hurry up and do it!" she yelled with frustration.
"Ahh, but that wouldn't be very fun ... and I didn't come all this way for nothing." His grin widened and turned more evil. This extraordinary human had passed all of his little tests. She could have tried to run away--she had been in a unique position where she could have attempted to escape, but she didn't. She could have succumbed to the same, uncontrolled firing of her weapons that the others had, but she hadn't. She could have begged for her life, but she didn't. She was ... quit extraordinary.
"You fascinate me, human," he confessed.
"I ... what?"
"You fascinate me. You're nothing like the other humans that I've met or killed. You don't seem to have any fear at all, even though I could maim or kill you at any moment. For something so weak, you've got an incredible amount of control over yourself, and that fascinates me."
"...what are you going to do?"
"I haven't decided yet." he confessed again after a few moments. He had originally thought to toy with her for an hour or so and then kill her, but now as he was approaching that moment, he was having second thoughts about doing that. It might be interesting, he thought, to watch her progress through this 'war' and see how she changed, if at all.
"You sicken me," the human said, proceeding with a series of insults against Digimon. It was that moment when he finally came to a decision. This human was too precious, too valuable, to simply kill. He grinned widely and decided to have a little more fun before he left and went back where he came from. Knocking her to the ground, he freed one of his hands by tying up his new toy's hands behind her back in a matter of milliseconds, then taking the glove off of his right hand and forcing it into the human's pants. She quickly gasped and started struggling. This, if anything, would get her to behave in a way she hadn't yet.
"Get the hell away from me, you fucking pervert!"
"Heh...if you need something to cry out, I'm Kaizramon."
"I don't care what your--" she gasped, the break in her breath and speech coming from the fact that he had just pushed a long, slender finger into the female. Normally, he never would have dreamed of doing anything like this to or with a human, but this one was a special circumstance. He began thrusting his fingers in and out of the woman, who kept struggling the whole time, even though she must have known there was nothing else she could do about what was being to do her. Removing his other glove with his teeth, Kaizramon's other hand forced its way up her shirt and onto the breasts of the human.
"Nice," he commented, pushing another finger to her and getting a half-moan, half-scream in response. "You're not liking this, are you?" he chided mockingly.
"N-no...stop it...I'll kill you," she panted. She was quite tight....he didn't know if that was normal for a human female, or if she was a virgin, or what, but he liked it. He was going to put her through the actual experience of raping her this time around, since he didn't want to be hated and despised too much, but that wasn't going to stop him from having a little bit of fun.
He let his fingers explore farther and farther around, making wide circles around the inside of the human. Other Digimon didn't know what they were missing with this one, he thought with a giggle as his thumb moved into a place where it could apply pressure to the female's clit. That prompted a full-on moan and a shutting of the eyes against the reality that he was putting her through. A little bit harder and a little bit farther, and she panted heavily, her juices flowing around his fingers.
"That was fast," he laughed. "Are you sure you didn't like that?
"As soon..." she breathed, "as you untie me...I'm going...to fucking kill you,"
"Ah," he grinned. "I see." Well, in that case, I guess I'll just have to leave you this way for a while."
Without giving any waring to the human, he started thrusting his fingers wildly around inside the human. At this point, it wasn't just for the purpose of doing something to her, it was to fulfill his own appetite as well. The female was positively growling at him now, although she moaned every so often when he made a particularly hard or a particularly fast series of thrusts. The hand that was cupped over her breast squeezed slightly, pressing it down against her chest.
The mouth that the pants were coming through was more open now than it had before, and Kaizramon got the sudden idea to find out what it tasted like. He silenced the human's screams and pants by forcing his tongue into the mouth of the woman. That probably wasn't the best of ideas, since she immediately bit down on his tongue, nearly removing it entirely. He had to push the tip of his finger and wiggle it against her g-spot to get her to release it. That action also soaked the area between her legs even more than before, accompanied by a long, heavy moan that was quickly followed by a hostile growl.
Watching the human, he was amazed yet again. She hadn't cried ... not that he was expecting her to. He grinned and removed his hand from the female, sucking her juices off of his finger. Her face, which had flushed red beneath her eyes, was contorted into a very violent, very angry expression.
Kaizramon gleefully untied his toy, then made eight steps away from her as quickly as he could. The human picked up her gun, knelt down without bothering to adjust her clothing, and emptied it in controlled bursts in his general direction. By the time she ran out of bullets, Kaizramon was gone.