Silver to Gold [Metal Drive]

Knock, knock.

The smith might have been open, yes - but was it really that common to receive work in the middle of the day? After a knock to announce himself, the front door would open, revealing the presence of someone that might be more needing of Silver's services than a mere angel. No, the figure that walked in was a Knightmon: a stalwart, impressively armored warrior who definitely needed a blade that could take more than a few hits.

"Hm."

He'd give a grunt, nodding to the smith in back, as he'd grasp his own blade by the sheath. The sheer size of it likely rivaled an Angemon's entire weight - but he'd set it right on the table, nonetheless, looking down to the smith. His voice was resolute and short - perhaps not caring that he might have been interrupting someone eles's project, or that he might not be first in line for service.

"This blade. How much to sharpen?"

... At least he was direct.

It was a ploy - but the Silvermon would hardly be onto it at this point. On the surface, this was simply a Knightmon walking into the store, getting him to appraise his blade. The Silvermon moved close to inspect, taking care to look at the sides. The blade itself was in a pretty decent condition, and all it really needed was a bit of sharpening to touch up.

But was it something to interrupt a smith's ordinary work for?

"Hm..." The Knightmon neared the blade, to take a look himself. "Both sides." He preferred to use it as a 'club' more than a skillful blade - but that might be the last bit that Silver would hear.

The Knightmon had opened the door, and in the moments prior to their conversation starting, an unseen visitor had waltzed right in. Ideally, Silver wouldn't see it at all: the visage of a Renamon, a blue scarf around her neck and a rapier clutched in her right hand, stood right behind Silver, as if appearing out of thin air. She exuded no aura, no sound at all - and with a fierce strike, she'd try and drive the hilt of her sword against the back of the Silvermon's head.

To knock him out on the spot. No fuss... if she could get this clean blow in...

If anything, Silver might find himself in a somewhat dreary state, vaguely aware of his surroundings as he fettered on the edges of consciousness. Instead of the table, he'd find himself slumping over the arm of the Knightmon, before he was shifted and held under the arm, like a common football.

There were words - short, calm, professional words, and a nod between the Knightmon and the fox. There was a light, the opening of a portal... and then darkness.

---

It would be some several hours later - or perhaps what seemed like it - when the demonic Digimon would finally come to. Wherever he was, it wasn't the market area of Luminas: the sound of the bustling market was nowhere to be heard. Then again, maybe he didn't even get that far: the stone floor and the cheap, wooden ceiling, housing only a flickering light-bulb, might have been indication enough that he was somewhere very different.

Was this some kind of storage closet? Should he try his arms or legs, he'd find them bound, the Silvermon left sitting in a chair in the back of this dark, depressing room. As he stirred, there was only one figure in sight.

A Renamon. She wore a blue scarf, and wore a weasel's mask over her face - and she was currently huddled over, running a sharpening stone against the edge of the Knightmon's blade, from before. She didn't seem aware of the Silvermon's stirring, not yet.

All that filled the room was the scraping sound of metal.

"Hm?"

Oh, this guy was already awake? Honestly, the Renamon didn't even pretend to give him more than a moment's thought, before she'd grunt and return right back to her work sharpening the blade. All she would do - perhaps to the Silvemon's confusion - was pluck off her mask, and lay it off to the side, as she continued to work on sharpening that piece of metal in front of her.

... Alright, there was more to it than that. A trail of data would briefly stream from the Renamon's back, an entire core slipping out, sinking right into the mask. It would give a brief pulse of light, and from it, a second creature - a Reppamon, in proper - would stretch out his back, and look towards the Silvermon in proper.

"Quite right. Our group has no interest in money - and your skills as a forge-master aren't so important that we would need to employ them. The reason we stole you from Luminas actually has very little to do with you, as it does with the past version of you."

At that, the Renamon would give a nod: "Tell me, the name 'Kan' ring a bell?"

"... Angel, I don't think being so direct is going to help us in this case." The Reppamon gave a sigh, before returning his attention to the captive. "Forgive the accommodations, but if our group is right, they are well warranted with what might happen."

"Ah, see? I helped you skip like ten steps in your theatrical meandering, Guru. As for you, wolf-boy, relax, we don't care about Kan nor do we have any idea where he is."

Holy fuck, Angel had no chill today. She didn't even seem concerned about the winged demon struggling against the bindings. Push came to shove, she'd just knock the wolf out again, and they'd start again from square one.

... A tired sigh escaped from the Reppamon's fangs. "As brash as she is, she's right - if you know about Kan, then you're already aware of your history as a spirit. And, more importantly, of the human's life, and the incident that befell the desert." The weasel tilted his head, then looked to the Renamon. "Though her fur would have been much darker, and you would have fought her amidst a number of tightropes and circus nets."

Right, how many times would that come up? But did any of that explain why Silver was tired up right now?

"Hm... if I explain it outright, then you'll direct your thinking in a way that'll give us a false positive. All you need to know is that we're going to be taking a look inside your head for something in particular. If its not there, then you'll wake back up in your workshop, none the wiser. If we do find it..." the weasel rolled his shoulders, "Well. I can't really say, without leading you on. Either way, we don't really have a choice in the matter, ourselves."

"Then go say hi to him, when ya get the chance."

The fox rolled her eyes, inspecting the work on the blade before setting it aside. She largely kept quiet after that, allowing the Reppamon to continue his explanation... abstract as it was. Silver got the long-and-short of it pretty quick, though. "Really doesn't matter how ridiculous it sounds, does it? Guru, you going to need me for this?"

"I should be fine on my own." The Reppamon returned his answer - and at Silver's insistence, he would turn and raise his metal tail, cutting through the bindings on his wings. At this point, it wasn't as if they didn't have the advantage without that last binding.

"Look at what we're doing, wolf. Does it really look like we want Luminas on our doorstep, either?"

Fair point. And with the promises more or less handled, the masked weasel would return his gaze to the wolf - staring intently into those six, pulsing eyes. "Relax, then..."

---

And should Silver indeed relax, he'd find himself drawn into a trance. Not unlike being knocked out before... except this time, he'd wake up somewhere truly abstract. Without his bonds, he'd find himself lying on what seemed to be the center of a forest - dark, encroaching trees building a canopy across the center. Behind Guru sat a wrought iron gate - and behind Silver, a gnarled door of his own.

It would be to that second door that Guru nodded his head.

"Open the way."

Ordinarily, the caveats of the Digimon's mind would have been of great interest to Guru. How could he help him grow, what desires did Silver hold that he didn't even know he had? Surely that duplicate visage of Luminas would hold a number of Silver's virtues and vices...

... But, unfortunately, that was not what the Reppamon was interested in today. In fact, as the Silvermon would open the gate, the holy weasel would step several yards forward. His eyes didn't settle towards the city in the distance, nor even the horizon in any particular direction. No: his eyes first settled upwards, looking to the sky, the very limits of the psyche. It would take a minute: a scan towards Luminas and to the left revealed little of interest - at least to the Reppamon's current intent.

But to the right, he'd see it: a dark, converging, crackling storm. He'd look towards Silver, tilt his head, and beckon him to follow the weasel down that path. "To think I would find a 'hint' of this so quickly..." The beast ducked his head, a faint, searing wind blowing in their direction.

... Wait, maybe searing was the wrong word. Was that sand?