A Fistful of Bits [Hunt] ("Forever 13") [COMPLETE]

This is not a story for the faint of heart. It’s not for those folks that are weak of stomach or of the faintin’ disposition. This here’s a land for them that’s got ice water in their veins and can work their way ‘round a six shooter. These lands are where you find out what a man’s really made of; a place of honest people and hard work, where the land is soaked in the sweat and blood of the people just trying to get by.



Unfortunately, Hideki and Troopmon had none of the above qualifications yet still found themselves in the midst of one of the hottest days in the digital year, in one of the hottest places in the whole digital world, the File Desert. Our two protagonists found themselves lost in the vast expanse of these badlands, canteen dry as the Dust Bowl. The whirling sands whipped at the pair, course winds tearing wherever it could find exposed flesh. The two wore goggles, protecting their eyes, but otherwise were woefully unprepared for their current environment.

Somewhere far away, a whistle from a Trailmon echoed despite the whirling winds as a disembodied guitar played. Where the music came from, the tamer and digimon didn’t know, but it was pleasant enough and distracted them from the blisters forming on their feet.  The two had heard trains, horses, and even what sounded like a motorcycle at various points over the last few days, but they hadn't seen a single soul in the desolate land.  Maybe the desert was playing with them, messing with their heads, or maybe they were just the least lucky souls in the whole of the Digital World.

As the long day wore on, hours felt like days, which in turn felt like years.  The duo felt like they had been walking for an eternity before their legs grew wobbly and life seemed at its end. They dropped to the ground and Saberdramon circled in the sky above as the sun crested the horizon, bathing the sky in a deep crimson. Through cracked lips, Hideki Tanaka spoke his first words since entering the inhospitable land, the words that he feared would be his last.

"This is it, buddy.  This is how we die."

The rookie’s reply wasn’t audible above the caws of carrion-eaters circling above. Neither the tamer nor digimon knew how their frail bodies were supposed to feed so many large, angry looking birds but supposed it wasn’t really their problem. Their morbid thoughts and skyward eyes were drawn elsewhere, however as they heard what sounded like.. hooves? Just another phantom sound to play with our heads, the tamer reckoned as he stared back towards the path they had just passed through, a narrow valley between two stark cliff walls.

However, the cloud of rapidly billowing dust spoke otherwise as it wasn't long before a covered wagon appeared being pulled by what appeared to be zebras in cyclopean helmets. The driver was unlike any creature Hideki had ever seen, a vaguely anthropomorphic, cactus-like creature wearing a sombrero, poncho, and boxing gloves. "Now I know I'm hallucinating. Just put me out of my misery, you cruel jerks!" he shouted skyward to his ebon-feathered tormentors.

“What are two kids like you doing out here in the middle of the desert? asked the Ponchomon. Tiny motes of light danced in its eye-holes. "Qué hacen dos chamacos en medio del desierto? No se ven nada bien... vamos, súbanse al carro. Los voy a llevar hacia mi casa, mi esposa ama tener visitas." The digimon leapt from atop the wagon and helped Troopmon carry the dehydrated Hideki. They carefully placed him atop some strangely crunchy blankets before the rookie lay beside his friend. The Spanish-speaking plant returned to the driver’s bench and reached for a well-worn guitar, plucking at the strings in an oddly familiar tune. "De todas maneras, siempre hace mucha comida, asi que va a estar muy contenta de tener más bocas que alimentar."

Hideki's world faded to black as the two digimon spoke in their unknown languages.  "Is that cactus.. speaking spanish?" He wondered aloud before he blacked out into the deepest sleep of his life.