Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Bad Moon on the Rise ❯ Prelude ( Prologue )

Yawn. Your standard disclaimer: I do not own Digimon, though how freaking cool would that be?

Alone in the moonlight, she lifts her muzzle into the air, breathing in the scents of the city at night. She can very nearly taste it, it's so strong, and she loves every second of it. None notice the blur as it passes over their heads, none see her. The moon is tantalizingly close to full in the sky, sending a tingle down her spine. Her body trembling, she breathes in once again, noticing the new smell interwoven with all the familiar ones. She grins, baring several razor sharp fangs and chuckles deep in her throat. She knows that smell. Fear.

With her keen eyes, she spots a young man walking through the park. He must not follow the news very well, that or he simply thinks himself above danger. It is a foolish notion, and he is a foolish man. She leaps down from her perch, melting into the shadows, invisible in the night. The man stops, perhaps realizing that something is following him. She crouches, waiting, watching. He looks around quickly, and she freezes. If he has spotted her, the fun is gone, her favorite look of surprise nowhere to be found. She breathes a silent sigh of relief as the man steps behind a bush and relieves himself. It's too bad. She would have enjoyed watching the man make a mess of himself upon seeing her.

The man is soon finished and he continues his walk. The time to strike is now. The man, lost in his thoughts, fails to notice the bulk stalking up behind him. He does notice the large hand on his shoulder, furred and clawed as it is. He turns around with a few choice words for whatever friend had decided to play a trick on him stuck on his tongue. They stay there, as the last thing he remembers is the yellow blur, all fangs and teeth. And then, for him, there is no more.

She is an artist, her medium flesh and blood, and there are plenty of both at hand. The man falls quickly to her slashing claws, the curious stuff of life flowing from the wounds. She puts her tongue to it, relishing the coppery saltiness of it and begins to move onto feeding. But, as was the case nights in the past, something stops her, some memory of her other self. The memory takes control and she flees, leaving the man on the bloody ground, his breathing virtually nonexistent. Blood staining her claws and the fur of her mouth, she lifts her muzzle to the night air one more time, letting out a screeching howl. All those nearby cower in fear, for they know what has happened. One more has fallen victim to the reaper of the night.

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"Good morning Shinjuku," the man on TV says the next day. His training keeps his face serene despite the terror in his breast. "Our top story today: The terror in Shinjuku Park continues, as a third victim of the terrible beast has been discovered."

"Renamon!" Rika calls to her partner, her lover, fear tingeing her voice. "It happened again!"

Renamon steps out of the bathroom after her shower, continuing to dry herself with a large towel, a perturbed look on her vulpine face. She seems troubled, Rika thinks to herself. But then, who could blame the golden fox? "Another one? That makes three in as many nights."

"The facts surrounding the attack remain the same," the reporter continues. "The body was discovered late last night outside the hospital emergency room. DNA matching the victim's was found in the park, along with tracks of what appears to be a large animal. All residents are advised to keep clear of the park at night while Animal Control agents patrol the area. The victim, his name as of yet unreleased by the authorities, remains in intensive care, in Critical but Stable condition."

"That doesn't sound like any wild animal I've heard of," Rika remarks, deep in thought. "The way it only almost kills its victims. I don't think we're dealing with anything from this world."

"You suspect it's a digimon," Renamon says, finishing the thought, but she looks unconvinced.

"That's the only explanation I can think of," Rika nods. "If it's not human, and it isn't any normal sort of animal, then what else could it be?"

Renamon says nothing, arms crossed over her chest, eyes closed. It could be a trick of the light, maybe a glare from the TV, but Rika swears Renamon's paws are tinted slightly red.