MPC 68X: Face Your Fear (54C)
Nov 23, 2019 0:26:49 GMT
Post by tridoriyaku on Nov 23, 2019 0:26:49 GMT
It was years ago, in the Dark Area. Yaku was a member of DATS, which had recently gone under in the human world. He'd never gotten the ending order, and as such never technically left.
"You're a great guy, man..." The drunken CaptainHookmon laughed as his cannon hooked over the man's shoulder, having drowned himself in rum at the Dark Area's favorite bar. The 'man' in question was Yaku, wearing a full toupee and Astamon suit. This suit was a gift from his employer, Astamon himself. Tonight was a big night for Yaku, for a multitude of reasons. He would finally be accepted as an equal to Astamon's mob, no longer a goon or henchmen but a proper lieutenant, able to carry his own share of plans and responsibilities in this drug smuggling, felonious, kidnapping, arsonist crew. It was a big day for another reason: by being accepted into the fold Yaku and DATS would finally bring down the dangerous crew. Their reign of terror and expanding empire in the Digital World would come to a close by his hand. He hung his arm around CaptainHookmon as he lead him along, out the bar and to the hideout.
"You're a great guy, man..." The drunken CaptainHookmon laughed as his cannon hooked over the man's shoulder, having drowned himself in rum at the Dark Area's favorite bar. The 'man' in question was Yaku, wearing a full toupee and Astamon suit. This suit was a gift from his employer, Astamon himself. Tonight was a big night for Yaku, for a multitude of reasons. He would finally be accepted as an equal to Astamon's mob, no longer a goon or henchmen but a proper lieutenant, able to carry his own share of plans and responsibilities in this drug smuggling, felonious, kidnapping, arsonist crew. It was a big day for another reason: by being accepted into the fold Yaku and DATS would finally bring down the dangerous crew. Their reign of terror and expanding empire in the Digital World would come to a close by his hand. He hung his arm around CaptainHookmon as he lead him along, out the bar and to the hideout.
"You don't mean that." Yaku smiled, "You're just full up with alcohol again..."
"Nah, nah, it's true. You're way better than any human should be. You got a digicore instead of a heart, man. You're like... a freaking half-man half-monster half-half-half..." The mon droned on for a while like that as they approached Astamon's hideout; an 'abandoned' factory turned speakeasy. Captain didn't like their liquor, it was too weak for him, which Yaku had no say on, since it was more like a horrible acid to the human body.
As they climbed up the stairwell, past the roaring party being thrown as Astamon's celebration to whatever he felt like that evening, Yaku smiled. He'd just bide his time, he'd been sending his reports back to DATS, and no news was good news when it came to responses and commands. The second Astamon swore him in as an official member of the gang he'd pull the rug from under them, a huge raid would pour through the windows and ceilings, all the drugs and weapons would be secured, and he'd be the hero who took down this gang...
The two approached a couch in the upper floors, too large for humans but about the right size for the towering digimon he'd been working with.
"Here we are, nice and safe."
"Yer nice and safe..."
"Yeah, sure." Yaku snickered, helping the mon sit down. "Now take a nap, we'll come get you when the big party happens." He let the sleeping mon down and heard the door open behind him, he smiled and turned to see Astamon himself.
"Yer nice and safe..."
"Yeah, sure." Yaku snickered, helping the mon sit down. "Now take a nap, we'll come get you when the big party happens." He let the sleeping mon down and heard the door open behind him, he smiled and turned to see Astamon himself.
"Yaku, my boy!" The mon greeted him, as jolly as ever. He held a tommy gun in his hand. Astamon's submachine gun was one of the scariest things Yaku'd ever encountered during his time in the digital world. The black painted metal with brown wood finish for its handles and Astamon's name carved in cursive on the hilt. It weighed a ton unloaded, and three tons when full. Astamon practically had it welded to his hands at any point in time, like an action figure accessory. "Come over here!"
The tall, man-like digimon was like a father to his men, in he cared for them more than he let on and would do anything to keep them safe. His gang was more like a family to him than a group of murderers, thugs, drug dealers, and all around felons, and he treated everyone who wanted to join with the same respect they gave him. To Yaku, he was a terrifying figure, Almost 9 feet tall and wearing an unidentifiable digimon skin on his head, obscuring his true face to everyone. He liked to privvy himself as the Prince of the Dark Area, boasting about his connections with the demon lords and how he was once about to beat Beelzemon in a duel. Whether this was true or not is something nobody had the courage to ask either party. True or not, the guts needed to even say something like that and live in the Dark Area was admirable, so when he told you to do something, you did it, period. That, of course, included coming to his side.
Yaku gulped whenever he saw Astamon, good occasion or bad, and this was no exception. As he head over to the digimon, it smiled wider than Yaku had ever seen him do so before. It was like staring down a t-rex, that smile, bits of digicore still in his teeth from whatever unfortunate had crossed his path whilst Yaku was gone. The mon brushed its scarf aside and set a hand on the human's shoulder. "Come, let's walk and talk, yes?" The gangster asked, calmly.
"Of course, boss..." Yaku followed alongside the digimon, shaking.
"Yaku, you've worked here for a long time. Longer than most digimon who've even known me have. You've saved my life, I've saved yours, you've done so, so much for me over these three years... yet every time I approach you, you shake like a leaf on a freezing Palmon's head. Even tonight, on your night of nights, the day you finally become a made mon, and a true capo with his own army of followers, you still feel fear towards me, your boss, your friend, your godfather. Why?"
"Well it's ju-"
"I apologize, I wasn't finished." Astamon lead Yaku into his office, a large room with a massive desk and chair for Astamon and a small leather loveseat for his visitors. The walls of the office were decorated with mounted beast digimon heads, presumably fake... presumably. A large oil on canvas portrait of Astamon and his machine gun hung over his chair, and a golden and diamond chandelier lit up the room. "Yaku, you are my friend. A good friend. A loyal man, a wonderful man, a man who would do nothing to upset me." He heard the door close behind him. "Have a seat." The man obediently followed Astamon's orders.
The tall, man-like digimon was like a father to his men, in he cared for them more than he let on and would do anything to keep them safe. His gang was more like a family to him than a group of murderers, thugs, drug dealers, and all around felons, and he treated everyone who wanted to join with the same respect they gave him. To Yaku, he was a terrifying figure, Almost 9 feet tall and wearing an unidentifiable digimon skin on his head, obscuring his true face to everyone. He liked to privvy himself as the Prince of the Dark Area, boasting about his connections with the demon lords and how he was once about to beat Beelzemon in a duel. Whether this was true or not is something nobody had the courage to ask either party. True or not, the guts needed to even say something like that and live in the Dark Area was admirable, so when he told you to do something, you did it, period. That, of course, included coming to his side.
Yaku gulped whenever he saw Astamon, good occasion or bad, and this was no exception. As he head over to the digimon, it smiled wider than Yaku had ever seen him do so before. It was like staring down a t-rex, that smile, bits of digicore still in his teeth from whatever unfortunate had crossed his path whilst Yaku was gone. The mon brushed its scarf aside and set a hand on the human's shoulder. "Come, let's walk and talk, yes?" The gangster asked, calmly.
"Of course, boss..." Yaku followed alongside the digimon, shaking.
"Yaku, you've worked here for a long time. Longer than most digimon who've even known me have. You've saved my life, I've saved yours, you've done so, so much for me over these three years... yet every time I approach you, you shake like a leaf on a freezing Palmon's head. Even tonight, on your night of nights, the day you finally become a made mon, and a true capo with his own army of followers, you still feel fear towards me, your boss, your friend, your godfather. Why?"
"Well it's ju-"
"I apologize, I wasn't finished." Astamon lead Yaku into his office, a large room with a massive desk and chair for Astamon and a small leather loveseat for his visitors. The walls of the office were decorated with mounted beast digimon heads, presumably fake... presumably. A large oil on canvas portrait of Astamon and his machine gun hung over his chair, and a golden and diamond chandelier lit up the room. "Yaku, you are my friend. A good friend. A loyal man, a wonderful man, a man who would do nothing to upset me." He heard the door close behind him. "Have a seat." The man obediently followed Astamon's orders.
"So I must ask again, why are you so scared of me? Is it my appearance? No, you seemed fine with me when we first met, should you recall. Thanks for getting rid of that boat for the record, glad I could help you look for your, presumably lovely wife. But you return, almost a year later, in a new suit, a new briefcase, new tie, asking me for a job. Suspicious, but certainly, I'd love to help an old friend who'd done nothing but help... And so I gave you a lot of jobs..." Yaku could hear Astamon running his fingers over the machine gun from behind him. "And each and every time you've surprised me, by not just accomplishing them, but practically doing them in the same day I gave them to you. Run these packages, rub out these people, ride these races... and you do. Yet, you are just a human. You have no powers, you have no connections, you have no-" click went Astamon's machine gun, a bullet settling into the chamber, "excuses."
"I-I don't-"
"Did you really think I wouldn't put it all together, bastardo?"
Yaku woke up, panting and sweating as he looked around. He was still in the AEGIS bunks, safe, sound... he looked at his missing arm, still feeling the phantom pains from the mobster's weapon. The memory still writhed in his mind, and probably would until the day he died.
