Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Digimon: The Silent Project ❯ Jet Black ( Chapter 4 )

Toei Animation owns Digimon. I do not own the Ford Shelby Mustang GT or the GM Pontiac Solstice GXP, although I wouldn't mind owning any one of them. Any original characters, ideas and themes I've written down in this story are owned by me. Thanks for reading.

 

 

 

Digimon: The Silent Project

 

By Jared Head

 

 

Chapter 4

 

Jet Black

 

 

“Look in the mirror. The face that pins you with its double gaze reveals a chastening secret.”

 

Diana Ackerman

 

 

 

 

It could have been seconds. Minutes. Hours. Days. Years. Lifetimes. The time that it took for him to work up the gusto to get up and off of the table he had been laid out on seemed to last for all eternity. Now, the next task, find a mirror. When found, it took even more gusto to finally step out in front of it.

 

When Edan did, he was frozen in place. Different. Was it even him anymore? No, it wasn't, he had been replaced. Replaced by metal.

 

His arms had guards on them that start at the elbow and go down to the claws. On they claws they had spikes at the end. The armor he was wearing went back over his shoulders and connected from two to one on his back. It ran down along his spine, with spikes at equal distances coming out of the metal. He gazed at the helmet now on his head. It fit tightly, very sleek looking. His eyes could not be seen. All of the armor was yellow and black, contrasting with his red skin.

 

He was no more the Guilmon that had looked back at him every time he looked in a mirror. He looked over at a counter in the room and noticed a black pen lying on the counter. He bolted over, ripped the cap off of the pen, and began to write in his uncontrollable fashion on the walls.

 

“Keep it silent!” was all that he wrote.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The red convertible pulled over. The view of the red convertible from the house was obstructed, but was the complete opposite from the red convertible looking towards the house. The house was in clear sight.

 

“Hold on a second,” Jorcy said to Flame. He opened the door quickly, pulling the latch to pop the trunk. The lock disengaged and the trunk opened a few inches. Jorcy hurried to reach deep inside the trunk. His hands tightly clutched around the cloth top as he easily pulled it up and over to attach to the top of the windshield. Flame barely cleared the height of the top. Jorcy plopped back into the car after closing the trunk. He held a small box in his hands.

 

“What is it?” Flame asked. Jorcy ripped the box accidentally, looked at the now ripped box, shrugged, and put the two pieces of what was the box into the center console.

 

“These,” Jorcy said proudly. A pair of high-powered binoculars. Given to him by Jet and now used to watch Jet.

 

“What do you have those in your car for?” Flame asked with suspicions.

 

“Research,” Jorcy said quickly. Flame let out a laugh that seemed to say, “Yeah right.” In the binoculars sights, Jorcy could see Jet exiting the front door rather quickly.

 

“Well, he's getting into his Shelby,” Jorcy said.

 

“Shelby?” Flame asked.

 

“Yeah, he bought a new Shelby Mustang not too long ago, he seems to like high performan…,” Jorcy trailed off and remembered, “Oh, yeah, you're not from this reality,” Jorcy said, continuing to observe.

 

“What's that suppose to mean?” Flame asked.

 

“Oh, he's leaving!” Jorcy said, “So what do we do?”

 

“Well,” Flame said putting his claw out a little.

 

“Well what?”

 

“Follow him you twit,” Flame said, and proceeded to thump Jorcy on the back of his head. Jorcy's cell phone rang out in its loud, obnoxious arrangement of notes. He had completely forgotten it was even with him.

 

“Hello?” Jorcy answered.

 

“What's up Jorcy?” Jet asked on the other side of the line. Jorcy heard the engine from Jet's car roar in the background.

 

“You on your way home?” Jet asked suspiciously.

 

“Yeah, I'm still a few minutes out, why?” Jorcy said, looking over at Flame. Flame turned to look down the street.

 

“Really? Why is it then that you've been sitting down the street for the past 15 minutes?” Silence was Jorcy's answer.

 

“Because I need to take you back,” Flame said loudly, making sure that Jet could hear. Jorcy then also heard a stunned silence coming from Jet.

 

“Tell Flame, I haven't got the time of day for him,” Jet said calmly. Jorcy knew the tone that was carried in Jet's voice. When Jet became extremely angry, annoyed, or needed to concentrate quite a bit, he was very calm, almost relaxed. Jet was in this super relaxed state, and Jorcy suspected it was from being beyond pissed off.

 

As soon as Jorcy looked back at the house, he could see the red with white racing stripe Mustang racing out of the driveway in reverse. Its shocks gave way as it went from driveway, to the gutter and out onto the street. The tires screamed in protest as Jet started to drive down the street as fast as the gear for reverse would let him. Rocketing towards Jorcy. Jet swiftly, while still looking backwards to guide the car, turned the steering wheel and the Mustang obeyed his demands. He pulled the handbrake and the car skidded completely around. He smashed the clutch, shifted into the first and blew past Jorcy.

 

“Well,” Flame said, “Let's go and get `em.” Jorcy then quickly turned the little convertible around and he now gave chase to his only relative.

 

“We aren't out to kill him or anything, right?” Jorcy asked reluctantly.

 

“No,” Flame said, “Not that I know of.”

 

“That's comforting,” Jorcy noted to Flame as he slowed to a stop, turned his blinker on, turned, and continued after Jet.

 

“Why's he heading this way?” Flame asked, “What's in this direction that could possibly cause him to come out into the open like this?”

 

“That's why,” Jorcy said, pointing ahead. The Mustang was sitting at a traffic light, waiting for the light to change, a freeway on ramp directly in front of it.

 

“I don't understand,” Flame said.

 

“Okay,” Jorcy said, pulling the convertible up to the back of the Mustang, “We have these things called freeways, what we do is we drive our cars onto these freeways. On normal streets, we have these, traffic lights. You have to stop at them occasionally. On the freeway, there are no traffic lights, and you can drive faster. To get on a freeway, you go on an onramp, that's what's right in front of us. To get off of a freeway, you go on an off ramp. Maybe we'll see one, well, I hope we do.”

 

“So the point of a freeway is?” Flame asked like a little child.

 

“The point is to get on it and sit there for hours, just to travel a few miles,” Jorcy said, brutal honesty reaching out and slapping at Flame. Flame didn't know what to make of this answer. Was it true, or a true instance of pure sarcasm? He concluded that it was a truthful sarcasm.

 

The feeling of exuberance washed all over Jet as he sat in the driver's seat; hand on the shifter, ready to go at the sight of green. He knew exactly what he was doing. He took a long stare up at the rear-view mirror.

 

“I hope he doesn't think this to be a chase, it's more or less to see if he's got the guts to do it,” Jet said to himself. He quickly returned his gaze back to the light. His rush of the “good `ol days” seemed to be back. He could feel himself becoming completely self aware, just like in those “good `ol days”. Memories of those who called it “fake…a clever deception” and other names by which they called this relaxed state he was now once again in.

 

He watched the light, waiting, anticipating, predicting, calculating when it would change. He quickly eased off the clutch as he began to see the top row of the red LED's turning off. All the rows then quickly followed in sequence within seconds. Slowly, the green LED's began to turn on. Jet slammed his foot down and heard the back tires beginning to scream for traction. He looked into his side mirror, carefully analyzing everything.

 

Jorcy's reactions were no match for Jet's. Jet had suddenly become a professional. This wasn't the usual friendly style he put into practice. The two cars raced up the onramp. Jet's car roaring, Jorcy's car screaming. Jet disregarded looking over to see if any oncoming traffic was pulling up. Jorcy did. Luckily, there was hardly anyone on the freeway at the moment. Both of the two drivers slammed their clutches and shifted their gears. Jet was able to shift quicker, and the Mustang pulled away slightly.

 

Jet put his car on course to get on another on ramp, this one to a highway. Jorcy followed suit, but only with his nerves on edge. What was Jet running; scratch that, driving away from? Never mind that, the on ramp was nothing but a sharp curve, much too fast for both of them to take at their present speed limit speeds. Jorcy began to slow, but saw that Jet was not.

 

The Mustang slid into a spin, but Jet quickly corrected, knowing exactly what he was doing. Still in this state of self awareness, Jet quickly took a glace back and could see the back rim of his driver side tire in perfect clarity. Like watching everything in slow motion. He was truly having a good `ol day. The two cars spilled the chase onto the highway and were now approaching the foothills quite rapidly. Jorcy glanced down at his speedometer. The needle was passing the 65. He was now about to break a law, but he did have justification to break the law, so he felt no guilt.

 

“Now this is some freaky stuff,” Jorcy said.

 

“What?” Flame asked.

 

“There's also no traffic on the highway as well,” Jorcy said, “It's almost like someone was anticipating our chase.”

 

Flame was on wits end. He was terrified for his life. Whatever these machines were, Flame did not like them. They seemed to be made to conquer all, and fear to these was acceptable in his views.

 

“What's wrong?” Jorcy asked.

 

“Huh? Oh, nothing. Why?” Flame responded.

 

“You just seem a little edgy,” Jorcy replied with a little concern. Flame was taken aback by this. In al his years of working as a gopher, he never had anyone he went and picked up show legitimate concern for him. This was the shortest time Flame had spent with anyone he was sent out to pick up, and here he was, already showing concern. Something unheard of.

 

Jet decided he had enough. It was about time to stop all of the fun. He veered off onto an off-ramp. Jorcy continued to follow. He pushed the car as best he could and barely made the off-ramp. Jet put the Mustang into conservative driving, and quickly figured the way to the quickest rest stop. Jet had pulled off the highway in the middle of no where. What seemed like a matter of minutes worth of driving was actually nearly half an hour. Time flew so fast, almost as fast as Jet as making decisions. He turned onto a street and continued to follow the signs to a rest stop, Jorcy in hot pursuit still.

 

Jet then pulled into the parking lot for the rest stop and turned the car off. Jorcy then quickly raced by, thinking he might have lost Jet. He saw Jet outside of his car and slammed the brakes. The tires didn't skid, but they still made a good deal of noise. He shifted the little red Solstice into reverse, and quickly backed down the road and pulled into the rest stop.

 

“Stay in here, I'll talk to him,” Jorcy said to Flame, turning the car off.

 

“Alright, just be careful, I don't even know who we're dealing with,” Flame said.

“I know who I'm dealing with, I've dealt with him many times before,” Jorcy said with a smile. He opened the door and hopped out.

 

“What's up?” Jet asked, leaning against his car.

 

“I'm kinda wondering the same thing myself,” Jorcy said, “It's not like you to, you know, just run away as soon as you see me.”

 

“Well, we all do irrational things every once In a while, now, don't we?” Jet replied with another question.

 

“Now how am I being irrational?” Jorcy asked.

 

“Walk with me,” Jet said, beginning to walk away. Something was up. Jorcy knew something big was up. Jet usually talked while staying still; walking meant he had some huge anxiety he needed to discuss.

 

“What gives? What gives?” Jorcy protested as he caught up with Jet.

 

“Jorcy…I…uh….I….damn it,” Jet said with anguish.

 

“What's up man? Just spit it out. You know I can withstand 99.99% of what everyone has to tell me,” Jorcy said.

 

“I just don't know how you could take this,” Jet said.

 

“Look Jet, I've been through a lot in the past day, I think I can handle just about anything.”

 

“You sure?” Jet asked.

 

“Yeah, of course. Just lay it out for the entire world to see,” Jorcy said reassuringly.

 

“Alright, suit yourself,” Jet said.

 

What could possibly shock me so badly that… Jorcy stopped thinking at what emerged in front of him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Flame was sitting in the car. Patience was one thing Flame had, but not in times when something needed to be done precisely. Punctuality was key to Flame, and he stressed himself on making sure he was punctual in just about everything. Sarcasm was natural to him, like a second language.

 

On thing that seemed to get Flame more flak than recognition was his intellect. He had studied just about everything that could be studied in the Digital World, and put it all into practice during daily life. Sometimes he was recognized for his ability to feed out answers rapidly, other times he was despised of as being a “know-it-all”. None of this was his fault; he just used what he knew.

 

He was lead more by logic than emotion. He carefully took into account all details, literally forming equations in his head as to what was occurring and how it could be explained. If something was unknown to him, he would try to explain it to himself, but would eventually ask for more information. He craved knowledge, and to know almost all of it.

 

His experience from living in the utopiatic society had taught him why life is never perfect, and he learned the hard way by being turned into a shifter. His agility went far beyond the next best. He was top of class when it came to fighting. Grace, finesse, stylistic touches, he had it all. Flame's fighting was more of an art form than a tool of defense. Refined after many years, decades even, he always reminded himself that no one was invincible on the playing field; all were mortal, including him.

 

At the moment, he was wondering what could be taking the two so long. He heard a sound not too long after his thought. What was that? Sounded like a girl screaming, but what would a girl be doing out her? Soon the “girl” emerged. Jorcy, running in full stride, arms in the air flailing about, and screaming like a little sissy girl.

 

Flame began to giggle, then chuckle, and was in full blown keeled over laughter as Jorcy quickly opened the door.

 

“Idgit! I! Oh! EEEE!!! He just told me the 0.01% I can't handle!!!” Jorcy screamed like a little girl.

 

“The hell are you saying!?!” Flame said, still laughing pretty hard.

 

“Ig…Ig…It's…ahhhhhh….Juh…Juh& #8230;Jet, iccc, iccc, isn't, hu…hu…human!”

 

“What?” Flame said, going completely straight-faced. Jorcy then turned to look out the window again. He let out a sigh that had the elements of a whimper embedded in it. Flame decided to leave the car to have a better look, as Jorcy was blocking the view of whoever this was.

 

His claws gave him trouble in opening the door, but when it did open, the door closed almost as quickly at the sight before Flame. All he could think of to react was to aim his claws and unleash his attack. It had been quite some time since he had last had to use his fire, but it was now to him either shoot or be shot.

 

“Knuckle Fire!!!” Flame yelled out. The flames shot out of Flame's claw at such a high velocity, it seemed to blur its way it's target. The flames singed their way through the air to come to a sudden stop centimeters away from the target. The target had brought its claws up and was now “holding” the fire. The BlackWarGreymon smirked.

 

“Flame, you've always been right on target with everything, but what makes you think you'll be able to do that with me?”

 

“Don't think you're going to be taking Jorcy out,” Flame said, now walking out and into the open to face this adversary. Fighting between Digimon was one thing where cheap shots were not made, so being out in the open was perfectly safe.

 

“So,” the BlackWarGreymon said, walking up to Flame, “Fighting in the place of Jorcy?”

 

“Yes sir,” Flame said with respect, “due to circumstances beyond his control, he is most certainly not fit to be fighting you.”

 

“So what makes you fit to fight me, good `ol Jet?”

 

“What did you just say?” Flame asked, anxiety by this unforeseen phrase creeping into his voice.

 

“I said, so what makes you fit to fight me, good `ol Jet,” the BlackWarGreymon said in a sharp retort.

 

“You're not Jet,” Flame said.

 

“Well, let us find out the truth then. Since you are fighting for Jorcy, you get to choose style,” Jet said, as was custom in a fight when someone stepped in to fight for an opponent who could not, under certain circumstances, fight for themselves. In this case, Jorcy was human, no match for a BlackWarGreymon.

 

Flame let the question asked replay in his mind. He had studied all of the fighting styles used by Digimon, and the BlackWarGreymon seemed to use a fighting style based off of more raw power than anything else. Of course, there was only one to base this idea off of, but was there only one?

 

Flame had noticed that this BlackWarGreymon claiming to be Jet did look different from the visuals of the BlackWarGreymon on record. It seemed to be sleeker with a more refined style. It was as if the original BlackWarGreymon was a first production model and this before Flame was the second generation.

 

“No attacks, you have a unfair advantage over me,” Flame said with respect, trying his hardest not to break the codes of fighting he had been taught in the Digital World, “Claw-to-claw,” Flame concluded.

 

“Claw-to-claw,” the BlackWarGreymon said to confirm Flame's words. Flame nodded, as did the BlackWarGreymon. The two bowed to each other as was custom, and then entered into their fighting stances. Flame was now beginning to realize that this BlackWarGreymon had to be Jet. It sounded just like Jet, and it was acting in a manner well out of character for the BlackWarGreymon, but it had to be proven, but for now, he knew he was about to do battle with one of the most powerful digimon of all time.

 

“Jet” was the first to go into his fighting stance. He eased down, bending his right leg to where his knee was nearly touching the ground. Then brining his left leg out, he extended it fully to help maintain balance.

 

Flame then got into his. He slowly moved in a very artistic motion down into his. Bending his left leg slightly, putting his right leg behind him and bending his elbows so that his claws were both aiming right at Jet. Flame could now tell he might have made a mistake, as the fighting stance of “Jet” was way off of what was written down in the records he had studied. He had been expecting one that showed power about to be used, not a stance for agility.

 

It was now a waiting game. The only thing that was not governed by custom during a fight was who went first. Either party could throw the first attack, they just had to be ready to dish out or accept the attack. It is the silence before the first blow that is the intimidating factor.

 

The silence was broken. Flame made the first move. Using all of his might, he pushed off with his legs and flew into the air. Controlled precision at it's finest. “Jet” immediately pushed off of his right leg, sending him out of the line of attack from Flame. Flame breezed by within inches of catching one of Jet's legs, and landed sliding across the dirt.

 

“Jet” continued to the right, cart-wheeling slightly on his hand, landing on his feet ready to attack. Flame on the other hand pushed off of the ground with enough force to cause cracks to develop where his claws pushed off from. He twisted his body through the air gracefully, like a choreographed ballet of forces and intentions. He kept his eyes locked on the BlackWarGreymon cart-wheeling away from him every time he came within view. The BlackWarGreymon also kept his eyes on Flame as he stabilized himself in a handstand, watching Flame progress through the stages of agility.

 

Flame then remained in his hand stand, his legs bending back and over his head slightly. Steadying himself, he twisted himself around to face “Jet”, who was in his fighting stance he had been in moments before, also looking right at Flame. The two stood frozen, both in fear from each other.

 

“Jet” had his fear emanate from the fact that possibly this could lead to someone's death. Flame's fear was being fueled by the fact that the BlackWarGreymon fighting style he had studied was nothing like the one he was encountering.

 

No time to think, as “Jet” now lunged at Flame. Flame then pushed off of his claws, somersaulting in the air. Clearing the amount that any BlackWarGreymon could jump up to. The sound of metal screeching against metal rang out in Flame's ears and was quickly followed by a sudden falling sensation. He could feel a cold feeling against his scaly skin.

 

“Jet” was about to burry Flame into the ground and he held him down while letting gravity kick in. The two impacted the ground, but with not enough force as “Jet” had originally intended to. Flame was being held down by his enemy, and now was breaking loose with a kick to the side of the BlackWarGreymon's head. The BlackWarGreymon was knocked maybe a few inches, swaying slightly, but then responded by bringing his long, retractable, razor sharp claws to Flame's throat.

 

Flame looked up into the yellow eyes, knowing damn well it was over. No it wasn't. The BlackWarGreymon held still, the claw most likely millimeters away from the throat. Flame finally let it click. No longer a thought, but now a truth. This was Jet.

 

“How about now?” Jet asked.

 

“You're a shifter?” Flame asked, gasping for breath a little.

 

“Artificial data has natural holes in it. I was able to fill those holes with other data I wrote myself,” Jet said, a slight grin coming across his face. Another thing! This BlackWarGreymon had a mouth! A visible mouth! This was far from being the original.

 

“How can there be two and only one BlackWarGreymon be documented?”

 

“Oh, see, I'm the second version. The better version. Why have just one BlackWarGreymon when you can have two? See, my brother did develop his own sense of reasoning. They, they meaning our creators, thought that if they made a second one, all that reasoning would go away. All it did was give me and even stronger amount of reasoning than my brother, that's why he was killed mainly; he just wasn't good at making the right decisions.”

 

“Are any of us?” Flame asked rhetorically.

 

“No,” Jet said, his answer not needed but added.

 

“Hey,” Flame slightly yelled out.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You mind getting that claw away from my neck?” Flame asked, carefully moving his eyes down to look at it. Jet let the claws retract, stood up, and shifted to his human form.

 

“Jet?” Jorcy asked. Jorcy had, in this little conversation, exited his car.

 

“Yeah, it's me,” Jet said, “Sorry I didn't tell you about this.” Jorcy fell backwards and into the car with those words, passing out.

 

“What an idiot,” Jet muttered.