D-Evilman (MPC49C) (Wordcount complete, Part 2 coming)

Isaac waited, pressed against the brick walls of the alley. A series of stacked-up garbage cans served as his shelter, a small "window" set up between them so he could peek. It wasn't a glamorous shelter, but frankly odor was the least of Isaac's problems at his moment. The small birdlike creatures flying above, with eyemarks stretched across their wings? No, those were the real problems. Isaac remained tight within his shelter, watching until even the cables tethered to their lower bodies had drifted past. Only then would he chance darting out, taking care not to make noise disturbing the garbage cans as he moved from one alley to the next.

He took a quick glimpse at the sky as he ran. Stormy clouds had gathered above, a slight violet tint to them as they started to settle. Of course, that tint likely wasn't just from the clouds. It may have also been from the massive conglomeration of wires that had snaked up Tokyo Tower, a faint red light pulsating off of them. Its golden mask glared down at the world below, the emptiness in its eyes equally passive and judgmental.

The world below was its to run. It had been ever since it pooled out from a rift in the sky, heralded by the descent of the largest Control Sphere that Isaac had ever seen. Military vehicles simply dissolved as they approached, if they hadn't already been torn to shreds by the many Agents that came in its wake. The longer it settled in the world, the more reality almost seemed to coagulate around it. Neon liquid, a sickening purplish-red color, had seeped up from the ground and bubbled into the air. With each day it only intensified further, any attempt at interacting with it causing disintegration on the spot.

This was the first beginnings of the field that would come to swallow up all of Tokyo. To an outside onlooker, the city would appear surrounded by a giant, pulsating pink mass. Wherever it spread, matter organic and Digital alike was quickly purged. Now only the inorganic remained, whether the twisted steel frames of the abandoned buildings that Isaac darted through or the roads that were left cracked and crumbled as wires snaked through them.

Isaac wasn't the only one. Humanity may not have had a chance, but there were others like him who had born the same taint. Much like the Agents that stalked within these borders, they were able to pass through the field without operation. What was a crushing, dissolving liquid to anyone else was as thin and clear as air to them, almost as if they had penetrated through a layer rather than dove into a liquid. They were no longer human or Digimon alone. How could they be, after what had happened?

They, too, were beings of the Reaper now.

Each day, it seemed, another had fallen. In the earliest days of the Reaper's invasion, Isaac had been part of a grand counteroffensive. Every day, it seemed, the tainted remnants of both worlds banded together to lead attacks on the Reaper and its Agents. In a way it had always been futile. Whereas each day the Reaper was expanding at its very core, these rebels were content to strike at the fringes. Whether born of justice, vengeance, or just a lack of anything else to do in the face of Armageddon, most every day was spent in glorious combat. Even the mightiest Organizers fell beneath the combined wrath of those assembled, although not without a cost. With each mission came more fallen, the Reaper having no qualms with lashing out at its own rebellious children. Some were crushed by Creep Hands or sliced to bits by Pendulum Feet. Those were the lucky ones. The ones that had been snatched away by a Paratice Head and dragged into the Control Sphere were the ones Isaac truly felt bad for. He'd take anything over going back there.

With each passing day, and each passing death, the glory of the counter-offensive had faded. A large uprising devolved into a small rebellion, its fervor now tempered by loss and fatigue. The small rebellion had fractured into several small holds, now just trying to survive. Each of those small holds was on a timer, and Isaac could feel his coming up. By this point he had been reduced to dashing from alley to alley, from building to building, snatching whatever relics he could find to survive.

He slipped into a small hovel, made of doors torn from their hinges and leftover tarps. Little shelters like this had been common outposts for parties-of-one, and without next of kin to take on their resources they were prime territory for scavengers. Was that callous of Isaac? Honestly, he had seen so many fall that he could barely bring himself to complain. Instead he edged his way into the shelter, careful not to cut himself on the increasingly rusty edges. He squinted his eyes, not wanting to try and turn on a light in the darkness. The Reaper had grown increasingly wise to the habits of his kind, and often a Scout (or worse) was stationed within to snoop on the humans' favorite scavenging spots.

Fortunately, Isaac didn't see anything. He sighed in relief and took out a small pen light, crouching on all fours so he could sort through the shelter. It was empty for the most part, the only unbroken piece of salvage an old television. The old CRTs lasted longer against the bit rot, but even this one had succumbed. There was only static now, and a few cracks against the screen indicated even that would come to pass. The couch before the television was mostly stuffing and springs, not that Isaac was even crazy enough to try salvaging a couch. There were some candles that Isaac made a quick point of scoffing, but as soon as he touched them they practically collapsed into wax. Clearly they had been used and re-used to the point of uselessness already.

He continued to creep forward, footsteps soft against the bunched-up carpet that had been left behind. That was when Isaac saw the small LED blinking in the corner. Immediately he lunged forward, seizing it in his hands to turn it over. His palms were sweating and his arms were trembling, and much to his irritation he had almost dropped the thing a few times, but fortunately he had caught it before it had hit the ground. Isaac could never be sure how much noise would attract a Scout, so silence was always the best policy. However, it was hard not to let out a strangled gasp of surprise as he saw what he clutched in his hand.

He had just found a Digivice. A D-Arc, to be specific, with a card hanging out of the side of it. It didn't have a Digimon on it as most tended to do, instead a monochrome red color. He touched it, and a vaguely familiar tingle started to creep down his spine. It was as if he was being burned, but only by slight amounts at a time. It was exactly how the atmosphere seemed to feel these days; fizzy and hot. Isaac set the card down a little too quickly, staring at it as if it was a hostile animal.

He looked at the shelter, still set up like the comforts of home. Comfort was the first thing that had gone to the wayside for the corrupted. They could barely find comfort in their own bodies, so how could they find it in couches and television? If those were there, the shelter had to have been created a while ago. The way the doors had splintered, too, was suspect. They were snapped at the hinges, as if not undone by a canny human but instead torn off by a Digimon. And why would the occupant carry around such a strange, familiar card? A cruel reminder was the last thing that any of the corrupted would want.

Suddenly, Isaac had an idea. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a memento, Elliot's own D-Arc. It didn't work for him in the slightest, but it at least read cards. Would it know about this red card? Shrugging, Isaac gave it a swipe, only for the D-Arc to start heating up in the palm of his hand. He let out a small, muffled curse, pulling back his hand and letting it clatter to the floor. Then, once it was safe, he leaned over to take a look at what it said.

ALGORITHM - RED: REAPER INOCULATION BEGINNING . . .

Isaac's jaw dropped as he realized that untainted may have still been out there. Why else would such a card exist, when the corruption's code was already immune to degradation? For all this time he had joined a furious death march because he had thought the end was already here. If there was still hope, what was he doing wasting his time? In fury he punched the ground, gritting his teeth and wondering how he could be so stupid. Countless have died in this misguided outburst, and for what? Gratification before the end?

No. Not this time. Isaac rose to his feet, clutching his own Digivice tight to his chest. It was time for one last Digivolution, one last shot at reigniting the fading embers of this world. He squeezed his eyes shut as wispy purple flames surrounded him, throwing back his head in a roar half that of his assembled spirits and half that of his own.

For one last time, it was time to fight back.