MPC 68X(33): Monster Town

The world hadn't really ended, despite what everyone had initially said. An apocalypse isn't always the be-all and end-all, the capacity for Humans and Digimon to push through even the most extreme hardships and find even the smallest fragments of normalcy shining through as both worlds fell to ruin. A few years after it began, things began to stabilize slowly but surely, people coming together in this time of need to help each other survive to the best of their ability. When the dead began to rise and hunt the living, instead of everyone falling to despair they rose up and united to cling to hope for tomorrow. Sure there were some people that tried to take advantage of the situation to build their own personal paradises, tried to hoard everything they could for themselves, but they rarely managed to hold on for too long, cut off as they were from outside assistance.

Feet pounded the pavement as two runners raced through the streets of an abandoned section of the city, their bags filled with salvage that needed to find its way to a sanctuary zone as soon as possible. Behind them races a small mob of the undead, Human and Digimon alike, washed out skin and clouded eyes, slack jaws and broken filthy teeth.

Runners and Couriers tended to have a harder time than others, considering their jobs involved moving through zombie infested territories to gather salvage or carry supplies from safe zone to safe zone. But they also had an advantage on these treks; aside from the inherent stealth that their small group sizes granted, they were always escorted by someone skilled in dealing with the undead. Many Escorts were former police, military, etc. Others fell amongst the ranks of the Digidestined.

Pickle crashed into the mob chasing their charges from an alleyway, their Caturamon form bulked up with extra armor to prevent the damage the zombies could dole out in larger numbers. The most fortunate thing about the simplicity that zombies brought was that even if the zombie was a Digimon, it had no access to the abilities it had once had while alive, limited to tooth and claw and other natural weapons. With a powerful howl the mob was thrown further back, its numbers having already been reduced earlier. The Runners called back their thanks as they kept moving, their goal not too far away now as they trusted Pickle to deal with the last of the undead.

"Okay! Time for a last bit of cleanup! Come on you stinkers, let's get this over with. Atalanta's Claws!" Their claws gleaming with purple energy, they throw themself into the fray, cleaving chunks from zombies with every swipe of their paws as they tear through the mob. Only a few seconds later, what was once a small hoard of maybe 20 zombies had been reduced by half, the resilience many of them had claimed in life reduced by death and decay.

"Howl of the Heavens!" Another burst of supercharged air and sound blowing back the remaining undead, dealing the final blow to several as they hit walls or the ground hard. Pickle smiled to herself, nodding in satisfaction as with another few attacks with her claws sent the last few to their final rest. After a quick sweep of the area to check for any stragglers, she reverted down to her Labramon form and raced after her charges, the two runners far enough ahead that they should nearly be at the sanctuary gates by now. It was getting close to sundown now, and it wasn't safe at all to be out after dark.

Darkness was when the strongest undead stalked the land after all, strange amalgamations of zombified beings that seemed like they should be impossible and yet they existed despite all evidence against their own being. The leading theory was that the strange forces creating the zombies in the first place were attempting to replicate Digivolution, causing masses of ordinary undead to meld together to grow in power. Others claimed that they were the creation of some powerful entity that had yet to be seen, some speculated that one or more of the most powerful, evil natured Digimon were responsible despite their own lands being just as besieged by the undead throngs as every other one. Whatever the cause, the amalgamations were dangerous in the extreme.

Pickle reached the Runners just as the gates came into sight, dropping her spirit form in favour of her human one as the three of them crossed into safety. "Ha! Home sweet home. You guys did good!" She raised her hands for a high-five from her teammates, beaming proudly at the pair as they let out relieved laughs.

"We'd've been toast without you man. They'd've been all over us a few blocks back." One of the runners sweeps his hair back out of his face with a grin, giddy with relief at being back somewhere safe. "Without Escorts like you lot we'd all be screwed, that's a fact."

His partner pulled their water bottle from their mouth with a loud gasp, having just chugged about half of it in one go. "He's right. We owe you one, that was one of the biggest groups I've seen in a while. Maybe we'll treat you to something nice once we get all this stuff sorted, yeah?"

Pickle laughed and waved the pair off. "Yeah, I'll look forward to it alright? Get going, they're gonna be happy with what we found I betcha!"

The pair left at a leisurely jog, both more than ready to be relieved of their heavy bags. Pickle left to find somewhere to sit, sore and bruised all over. Zombies may not pack too much punch on their own, but in big groups like that, repeatedly? Ouch. They knew they'd probably be fine by morning, but for now all they wanted to do was sit somewhere and relax for a while before dinner. 

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