Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Digimon: The Silent Project ❯ Off ( Chapter 2 )

Toei Animation owns Digimon. I wish I did. Maybe I should go buy some stocks and hope for the best. Any original characters, ideas and themes I've written down in this story are owned by me, even though I've obviously typed them. There, now I've averted about 80% of all lawsuits.

 

 

 

 

 

Digimon: The Silent Project

 

By Jared Head

 

 

Chapter 2

 

Off

 

 

 

“I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what.”

 

 

Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird, 1960

 

US novelist (1926 - )

 

 

 

 

 

The sound of waves trouncing onto the sand echoed through his mind. It seemed a peaceful way to awake, but as soon as his eyes opened, he knew he was far from peace. The dead give away was the fact his seatbelt was holding him in the car as he hung upside-down. Blood had been rushing to his head and made him feel very congested. Once he righted himself, he knew he would be fine, except for maybe a stopped up nose for a few minutes and disorientation for a period of time.

 

He then reached down (to Jorcy he reached down, but he actually had reached up) and unbuckled his seat belt. Now, while upside-down, blood rushing to the head can inhibit the idea of action and consequence. This was the case for Jorcy. As releasing the seat belt let gravity kick in, do its job, and what hangs above, must come down. After staying in a very awkward position that involved a neck well beyond its normal degree of flexibility, Jorcy attempted to get himself out from under the car.

 

Luckily or unluckily, the sand was of no help to Jorcy in the aspects of grip, as he had an extremely difficult time pulling himself out from under the overturned convertible. Once out, he sprawled out across the ground, trying to gather where he was. One thing that helped to determine where he was happened to be a wave that went farther than the rest and slammed into Jorcy, soaking him. As the wave pulled back, Jorcy slammed his face into what he thought was going to be ground, but turned out to be wet sand, forgetting the sand when wet is essentially mud. He pulled his face out and the sand stuck to most of his face.

 

He lay still for a few seconds.

 

“This is just not my day,” he said, now slowly standing up. He shut his eyes, took his sunglasses off, and wiped most of the sand clinging to his face off in a few attempts. He took his sunglasses sand flung them back and forth and finished by rubbing both sides of the lenses back and forth on his shirt. It was a little chilly, so he was glad he had his jacket on. As he put his sunglasses back on, the muscles around his eyes contracted, opening his eyelids.

 

He was right in assuming he was on a beach. He wasn't surprised at that fact, as he had found out a few seconds ago where he was. But there was one thing that seemed strange to him about this beach he was at. Phone booths.

 

What the hell are phone booths doing here? Jorcy thought to himself. Well, might as well look at them was his next impulse, and he followed it. Walking over he looked around. It was a nice beach, looking like something out of the South Pacific, which reminded him to figure out where he was. He opened the door to one of the phone booths, picked up the receiver and began to dial. *(star)-8-2-(5-7-4)-4-3-7-9-2-0-2. This time he put the full number in, not wanting to have to repeat what happened the last time eh called Jet's cell.

 

 

Ring…ring…ring…Hey, put some quarters in!!! a voice from the receiver yelled You think there's such thing as a free lunch? So you must've thought there was also such thing as a free phone call, nice job, now put in a quarter and try again, dumbass.

 

 

Jorcy was taken aback as he put the receiver back where it went. Was that a prank, or was the Phone Company deciding to hire not those smooth voices you usually hear, but people straight out of an institution and on the fritz? Well, it didn't matter; it was just a thought that amused Jorcy slightly. At least he was comforted by the fact that insane people could hold jobs at the phone company. Now they had a choice finally between the phone company and the post office.

 

 

 

 

 

“So what do you think of him?” the older one asked.

 

“He's smart,” Flame said to the open sky, somehow communicating with whoever he was speaking with, “He has no family whatsoever if you exclude his cousin, so unlike the others we've seen, he could be killed and no one would worry where he has disappeared to,” Flame said apathetically.

 

“You know that we can not afford to lose anyone, no matter what circumstances would happen if they seemed to turn up “missing” in their home world. This includes both humans and digimon alike, so I don't want you to ever think something like that again. Understand me?”

 

“Yes Sir,” Flame said in reply with great respect, “Now, I think it may be a good time for me to get back to the package to make sure delivery will be accomplished,” Flame said, looking around for no apparent reason but to look around.

 

“Go ahead Flamedramon. Contact me when you are near.” the older one said, and he then fizzled out into the constant, never changing, always present white noise. Flame took another quick look around and then began a complicated process he had learned well before and had repeated many times before.

 

He too his claw, opened his mouth wide and reached in. His gag reflex began to fire off the throat muscles as he dug his claw deeper and deeper down his throat. It was a simple procedure, but with his razor sharp claws, they made it into a complication, therefore, making it complicated.

 

As he continued, his eyes began to water. After all the times he had done this, he expected to be use to reaching in, but he always seemed to react adversely every time. His claw caught hold of the metallic object. He closed the three blades around the object, and began to slowly pull his claw out of this throat. One slip up here, and Flame could end up having a slit throat. Worse, is that it would be from the inside, causing a pressure imbalance and forcing fluid into his throat through whatever slit it would make. If the fluid made its way to his lungs, he could drown to death.

 

Course, Flame is living in the present, not the future, so these thought evaded him. He gagged a few times, but finally his claw was out. He studied the metallic object for a few seconds. It was a tiny box, but it also happened to be a long range high frequency communication device. You would take it like a pill, and on its way down, it would latch on to the user's vocal cords and be able to transmit their voice from the vibrations it picked up. An excellent idea, except for the methods of removal:

 

 

1) The user has to physically remove the transmitter.

 

 

2) The user has to initiate a gag reflex, forcing the user to vomit the transmitter out.

 

 

3) Let the transmitter lose its grip after the battery fails in less than six hours, and hope it is destroyed by the user's stomach acid. If not, it's a painful way out.

 

 

Flame was glad he had removed the transmitter. He doesn't want to encounter what happened on his first try again, but recalls how it lead to 5 and three quarter days of not taking a seat, even if offered one. He snapped out of his mental reminder and returned to the present situation at hand. The package was lost, and Flame now had to cover what he estimated to be around 250,937,400 square miles, with around 146,000,000 square miles being ocean. He came to mentally calculate how daunting the task would be, but a hunch would give Jorcy's location away, as he would then be the second group of humans to arrive there, even though Jorcy was alone.

 

He took off, now knowing the exact location of the good to be delivered.

 

 

 

 

“So why do you think they went after him?” Jet asked into the phone, pacing back and forth in the kitchen, keeping his hands busy with his sleek sunglasses. Worry had set in once he had seen Jorcy in the convertible with someone he seemed to recognize, and to see it disappear into seemingly no where was even worse.

 

“Well, I don't know what the hell they're thinking,” Jet said, “Yes, I was going to follow them, until they disappeared into thin air. I don't know how they slipped in without me knowing, but somehow they did, and now their taking him away from me just to have a shot at me. What I think this does is leave me out In the open, vulnerable if you will, but what they don't realize is that when you work your ass off and decide to take someone in, you give up only when you reach a full cardiac arrest,” he said, angered and confused.

 

“I know I'm next. I have no clue what they're about to do to Jorcy, but damn it, when they get back, I'm not going to ask who is innocent, they're all going to get it,” Jet said, ending the conversation and hanging up the phone.

 

“I've lost one…I'm not losing another of my family,” he said, looking out the huge kitchen window.

 

 

 

 

The slammed the receiver down, frustration showing on his face. Every one of the “pay phones from hell” was not working for him. Jorcy couldn't get a line out to anyone he knew, let alone to any sane people at least. Numerous times he had called only to hear the weirdest paradoxes, musings and troubling phrases yelled at him from whoever was on the other line.

 

It troubled him because to Jorcy, he could very well be dreaming all of this up. It seemed the reality of what was the Digital World was setting in at the moment. Fear, but the fear of the unknown became a powerful disruptor in his mind's workings, and its grip tightened its paralyzing fingers around all thoughts.

 

What if I never get back home? What if I don't survive? How will I survive? Am I dreaming? Thoughts racing like a pack of horses. Then a sound, one that sounded like screaming sent Jorcy bounding into one of the phone booths, quickly shutting the door and getting as low as possible. He could see a figure running over the top of a nearby sand dune, with another in hot pursuit. The pursuer seemed to lift something up and a bright light quickly emerged from it, shot across to the pursued, and the one being pursued was knocked forward, leg bent well out of normal shape, landing within 50 feet of the phone booth with a loud cry of anguish.

 

The pursuer then slowly walked over. Jorcy took a slight peek, and could only make out the one on the ground, and that whatever they were was not human, and that they were red. He figured it was a digimon, but for now, he was as low as possible. Back against the phone's bottom portion, which the side with the phone covered most of the side it was on, in this case, preventing this pursued and pursuer from seeing Jorcy, but he could hear them.

 

“What the hell are you doing this for!!!” one of them yelled, who Jorcy figured would be the pursued.

 

“Me? What am I doing this for? Edan, you shouldn't have kept it from us. If there's one thing you know, it was that deception only leads to pain. If, and I mean if you had told us immediately that you were a shifter then all of this could have been avoided, all this pain and suffering, yes, we would have killed you on the spot, without worry or fear going through your mind, but instead, you chose to run,” someone else said in a very clear and crisp accent. Jorcy could tell it was British, but wouldn't dare to see if who was talking were British, let alone a human.

 

“So now, Edan, I'm sorry, but, you've sealed your own fate.”

 

“Now, wait just a minute, let's just talk this over, what the hell is going on? Why, since I am a shifter, does that mean you have the idea that I need to be killed?” the pursued asked. Jorcy sat absolutely still, not making a noise, even restricting his breathing to avoid any possible audible sign bellowing out of him, no matter how small.

 

“All products involved in the “Silent Project” as it has been called have been erased. You are one of the few left, in fact, one of the two left; therefore, elimination is well overdue.”

 

“No one knew of the adverse effects it would leave on the test subjects,” the pursued pleaded.

 

“You know what, you are right,” the pursuer casually remarked, “All the better to keep it quiet,” he said, then the sound of something metal clicking together and locking with a hum moving up in pitch, “anything you'd like to say as finality for your sentence?”

 

“Aim well with your conviction, not your weapon,” the pursuer said sternly, “If you miss, don't expect me to just walk past you one day.”

 

There was silence for a few seconds, and then what sounded to be a machine gun firing mixed in with high pitched shrills blasted its way through the air. Jorcy brought his arms up and covered his ears, pushing into his ears as hard as he could. He could feel the sound reverberating in his chest. It stopped, and Jorcy brought his arms down slowly, only to hear the sound start up again. He reacted in the same manner, the sound now painful to his ears, continued. As soon as it ceased again, he heard the pursuer walking away slowly.

 

“What the hell is this?” he asked. Then the same metal clicking and locking noise was followed by another quick burst of the noise. Stopping only when an explosion occurred.

 

“My car,” Jorcy said to himself quietly, and then realizing he had just spoken, he covered his mouth. Too late. He then heard the sounds of objects piercing through the phone booth, and he ducked down, covering his head. He didn't care about the sound this time, as he was more concerned about being killed as sparks and debris shot through the air all around him. He could feel something zipping through the air al around him, but he could not tell what that something was, but there were many of them. When the sudden violent outburst had stopped, Jorcy couldn't move, paralyzed with fear.

 

“Got it,” the pursuer said, taping against the glass of the phone booth, “Oh shit,” he said quickly, and took off running. From the sound of the voice, Jorcy could tell that the head of the speaker had turned away from him, but Jorcy would take no risks. He couldn't move for fear of death.