The more Paul Manchester tried to turn it around in his head to put the pieces together, the more it all just didn't make sense.

First of all, the forest he'd found himself in. A humid environment full of the oddest of creatures that didn’t belong anywhere near his home city in North America was an ordeal of its own, sure- but where he expected to see the human touch in a place that supposedly housed civilization, it was always off in ways that put Paul on edge.

Traffic signs, sunk into the earth to stand bent at odd angles. Street lamps strung with hanging vines and moss amidst the forest overgrowth- seeming unclear as to whether their lights were off due to having long since been broken, or them simply remaining turned off while in broad daylight. A whole cluster of mailboxes crammed together in a row with address numbers painted on the fronts, their respective houses nowhere to be seen nearby.

Paul even nearly changed his trajectory out of habit upon being faced with a large, clearly legible ‘ONE WAY’ sign, the arrow distracting him by pointing in a different direction from which the Goblimon had been leading them. He needed a moment to realize that there weren't actually any roads around the dense foliage and forest in the first place, for there to be any real purpose in obeying traffic laws here. Who would do something like this, putting street signs up in places like this to confuse people? Paul couldn't even fathom a guess.

The other, more glaringly obvious thing, that he just couldn't wrap his head around, was his phone. He had to have dropped and broken it, if half the text across his home screen having glitched out and been replaced with odd symbols was any indication. But that didn't explain the perfect Wi-Fi connection he seemed to have, stronger than even the internet in his office room back home…

Great. Paul had no cell service, no location data, and when he checked, the Send function of his otherwise perfect internet connection didn’t seem to be working on his phone, either. Meaning Paul could scroll through the unimpressive search results he kept getting from typing ‘Lost in forest with goblins and huge bugs’ into a Google search all he wanted, but the crucial email Paul had quickly drawn up to let his boss know he wouldn't likely be able to come into work that morning just couldn't go through. Right when he needed it the most.

So frustrating and confusing, when even page two of the Google search results failed him. What was ‘goblincore’ supposed to even mean, anyway?

But what bothered Paul the most blatantly didn't come until they reached the farm.

Paul leaned against the top rung of a rustic wooden fence marking the perimeter of a big, wide field of soil, watching green skinned workers oddly similar to his twin guides pulling big hunks of meat out of the ground.

Meat. No doubt about it, they were legs of meat- fried, crispy, and somehow still on the bone, looking straight out of a deli shop- each cut poking out of the ground in neat little garden rows as the goblin lookalikes worked around them. Paul was already slowly shaking his head, before he'd even fully taken in the utter nonsense of it all.

“Yeah, this's part a’ da Goblimon meat farms- most a’ our food comes from here and da orchard on da other side,” one of the Goblimon twins that had led him there went on to explain, leaning on the fence casually nearby. The other was off somewhere else, having left to go who knows where. “We grow some a’ da tastiest Digimeats around, you betta believe it! Sometimes dere's little treats we find from foragin’ in da Digital Forest for us ta eat too, but the meats here tend ta taste better, anyhows.”

Asher was standing on one rung to lean over the fence and watch, too- giggling away, of course.

“Coronamon, look, they're growing meat out of the ground,” he giggled, pointing out over the field at the workers. Paul felt a flash of annoyance at how rude he was being, nearly opening his mouth to tell him off.

To his ‘partner's’ credit, however, the Sun cub thing- or whatever it was- didn't encourage his rude behavior, turning to look at him in confusion.

“What do you mean? How else are you supposed to grow the meat you eat?” he asked, sounding genuinely perplexed.

“They come from animals!” Asher laughed, before taking a second to think. “Well, actually, Dad gets meat from the store, who gets it from animals- ham comes from pigs, turkey from turkey, roast beef from cows… but it does always look way different than what the animals actually look like. But that always happens when it’s sliced, or when you cook it, like when Mom makes ground beef…”

“Wow… that's really weird,” the sun blond remarked rudely, tilting his head. “Wait a sec, I thought you said you didn't grow your meat out of the ground, but then how does your Mom get ground beef?”

“You're tellin’ me ya never had a juicy leg a’ Digimeat before, not once?” The Goblimon looked considerably more shocked at the notion, his eyes bulging out like Asher had just told him he'd won the lottery. “Oh man, ya gotta try some. Tastes so good it'll change ya life, I swear by it- hopin’ da boss'll be in a good mood for ya, if only for dat. Even better when dey’re hot n’ fresh off the harvest, too.”

It was too much- Paul couldn't contain himself any longer. He let out a short laugh of bafflement and disbelief, shaking his head.

“No way. There's no way that meat hasn't been ruined already, not when it's been left out there for hours. It's even been in the dirt. You don't eat food you dropped in the dirt, that's so gross.” Paul wrinkled his nose for emphasis, leaning a bit further over the fence to peer closer. “Yeah, it's definitely gone bad by now, if it's really been sitting out in the sun all day.”

“What do you mean by ‘gone bad’?” asked a voice down by Paul's side, making him jump.

That Herissmon again… he grimaced and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It was still following him, much to his chagrin.

It had snuck up to right beside him on the fence with its sharp claws laid out on the lowest rung, poking up its snout towards Paul to keep him frozen in its terrible blue gaze. It wanted Paul to know how easily it could sneak up and tear him to pieces when he least expected it, and it Knew he knew that it wanted him to know- that much was clear.

Paul forced his eyes away from the intimidating glare to somewhere else, someone else, only to be met with a baffled expression written across the face of the Goblimon still nearby. His look of utter confusion looked even more cartoonish and exaggerated than his already outlandish facial features were before, but at least it was easy to read.

“Whaddya mean, dey really gone bad? Like I said, dey've always been good. Tastiest meats in da whole Sect!” He scratched his noggin in confusion, before his face lit up in understanding. “Ohhh, unless ya meant bad like… bad. Aww, I woulda thought da other Goblimon workin the fields an’ doin’ the raisin’ of all the Digimeats would be better influences dan that…” The Goblimon fretted, casting a look to the harvesters out in the field- who kept toiling away and pulling up meats, unbothered.

Paul couldn't help it- he laughed again. It was probably rude of him to, if the Goblimon wasn't actually making the joke on purpose, but it was still funny.

“You didn't send them to school, I take it?” He shared a knowing grin between himself and the jokester, nearly forgetting to raise his eyebrows to emphasize the humor in his voice. The Goblimon didn’t seem very receptive to the joke, only turning its head to look at him strangely, so Paul changed course and moved to address his son, instead. “See, Asher, this is why you have to go to school every day: you'll go bad if you don't.”

Asher guffawed, bursting out into a torrent of giggles at the joke- Paul could always count on him to react properly to one he understood, at least, even when it had to be explained. It didn’t seem as though he could give the same high praise to the others present here, as it turned out.

The Sungrom, hanging onto one of the fence rungs just past him, had whipped its head back to look at Asher when he doubled over laughing, before looking down to the fence rung in his paws. He furrowed his little brow, murmuring to himself. “I don't get it… hey Asher, what's a ‘skool’?”

The Herissmon by Paul's side didn't make any noise but the slight rustling of fur, nor was Paul interested in watching its reaction, so he didn't look.

Not that it helped much. He could still feel those sharp, blue eyes on him.

Before Paul could roll his eyes at the spitfire’s answer- no wonder he was such a bad influence on Asher, he'd clearly never been to school if he didn't even know what it was- Paul heard the thump-thump of footsteps in the untamed earth approaching. He pushed himself up to lean back from the fence and crane his head, catching sight of the other Goblimon they'd met earlier walking back towards them.

Since he was approaching him on his own after taking care of whatever his business was, he probably had something to tell him, and would tell him as soon as he got close enough to speak. Paul stared expectantly as the green goblin approached, waiting- some news about their situation would be great. He could only hope that he had something good to tell him, instead of wasting his time.

And as it turned out, he was right, on both accounts.

The Goblimon slung his club to rest on his shoulder casually as he arrived, leaning on the fence to address Paul and Asher- and the other creatures here, too, Paul supposed.

“So, just got back from da Boss, he said he's ready ta meet with ya now,” he began, jerking back a thumb in the direction he’d come from. “He, uh- he ain't happy, though, just a’ lettin’ you know. Probs best not ta keep ‘im waiting for too long, if I were youse guys.”

Paul tilted his head to peer past the Goblimon speaking in the direction he’d come from- pointing towards a pretty sizable encampment of tents laid out just nearby the crop fields. He couldn’t see any structures that stood out in particular, from where he stood… or anyone walking around the area that didn’t look uncannily similar to the Goblimon boys they’d met earlier, for that matter. Paul had assumed they were just twins, hardly the strangest thing about them to give a second glance for, but now…

No, there were more important things to take care of for the time being. And getting to the ‘boss’ of these people and using his landline to call for help was, in fact, one of those more important things.

“Okay. Do we wait for him to come here?” Paul asked, looking out over the greater living quarters for a moment longer. He wouldn't have to move from his spot, if he could just borrow the Boss's cell phone instead…

The Goblimon dismissed the question, however, with a shake of his head.

“Nah, we can just take ya there to where he is in da village, don't wanna bother da Boss doin’ any more work than he has to. He's got enuff'a stuff on his plate already, afta’ all.” He shouldered his club, walking over to elbow his twin still leaning on the fence. “Dat means you too, knucklehead! Move ya bum an’ help me out here, or I'm drinking your lemonade before you get back ta ’ar place!”

The other let out an oof! at the force knocking him off balance, looking back at his twin with a scowl.

“Oh, don't you dare- I swear ta you, yer not gettin’ any more shifts picked up from me if I go back an’ find dat bottle empty!” The Goblimon pushed off from the fence to walk in step with his twin towards the village, trading elbows back and forth as they went.

Paul blinked- right, that was his cue to follow. He righted himself and stood back up, brushing off the worst of the dust smudging his white work shirt from where he’d been leaning on the fence.

He’d gotten no more than a few steps away, when the sound of clawed paws scratching on the ground after him had him suddenly tensing up, his back going rigid in alarm.

Whirling around, Paul grit his teeth to bite back a shout- forced to face the horrible little beast hot on his tail directly once more. He couldn't give it any opportunity to strike while his back was turned.

“You don’t always have to keep following me around, you know,” Paul managed out, hoping his tone was biting enough for the creature to understand how upset he was.

Herissmon just tilted its head, blinking up at him with those eerie blue eyes that sent Paul's back crawling.

“Yes I do.”

He blinked. The realization dawned on him, slow yet palpable as though he were emerging from a surface of water, and he could hardly believe it.

That was Backtalk.

“What?” Paul narrowed his eyes, his voice incredulous and loaded with ammunition. “No, you really don't! We're here where you said you'd stay with us until, and if you want to hunt someone, you're better off somewhere else. You have no reason to be here, right?” Paul's voice dipped a bit lower, more stern, watching Herissmon very closely for if she tried to backtalk him again.

Its pelt of spines puffed out a bit when Paul leveled his questions, but proved pretty pathetic as an intimidation tactic- the creature almost seemed even smaller, even. Its blue eyes grew larger, before shifting elsewhere, retracting that crawling feeling up Paul's spine with it.

“Uh, never mind. Sorry.” Herissmon curled its blood red claws together, shifting on its paws. Thankfully, it seemed to get the picture that Paul would leave it no window of opportunity to attack without consequences… he nodded to himself, satisfied.

He looked up from the creature to see Asher and his friend still hanging on the fence rails and watching the field workers, instead of having moved like they were supposed to. Paul let out a huff of annoyance, raising his voice to get both their attention.

“Asher! Sum… Sundog! We’re leaving, get a move on!” he called, watching them to discern whether they were listening so he could hurry up- or if Paul would have to shout louder to get their attention, instead.

“Sundog?” Asher was laughing, Paul realized, when he hadn’t been trying to be funny. The last thing Paul needed was for Asher to go teaching his bad influence that it was okay to make fun of him. Paul grumbled to himself, his brows furrowing.

“It’s ‘Sunmon,’ I think you meant,” Asher called back, looking to his friend for a second before hopping down from the fence. At least he did seem to be listening. “But that’s not his name right now, either- he’s Coronamon now!”

Paul rolled his eyes. He’d been through this before, but it was always worse when they didn’t have the time for it.

“Asher, I don’t care what your friend’s name is, let’s go already. We’re late!” Paul urged, turning around and hurrying after the Goblimon twins at the first indication Asher seemed to get the picture- that being him grabbing his spitfire friend’s paw to run after Paul, he supposed.

Paul distantly wondered if the giggling he heard behind him was directed towards him again.

Both Asher and his little bad influence would have a problem if it was.

----------------------------------------

The walk through the village proper proved largely uneventful, thankfully, but it struck Paul that even this half-baked resemblance of human normalcy felt no less strange than the rest of Paul's morning had been.

Craning his head around in all directions as he and his son followed the hooligan twins through the village, Paul was left perplexed at the sight of similarly green skinned, poor-postured punk types everywhere he looked. Heavy underbites, wild mohawks, clothes of leather and hide- they by no means looked identical, but enough of the same to catch Paul by surprise.

This… Goblin village, Paul supposed, seemed mostly comprised of tents built with wood and hide, large enough to serve as living and sleeping quarters. And within the village itself, Goblin-ish residents were everywhere- the busier crowd of which seemed to be bustling about, carrying loads of wood, or heavy sacks of burlap, or… even stacks of bones, Paul noted with alarm. Others were pushing along wheelbarrows or carrying buckets full of food, while still others remained seated, whether sharpening tools or helping to wash one heavy looking, iron black cauldron. Even more goblin-y residents seemed to have nothing better to do at all- simply lazing about, snoozing the day away or chatting amongst other lookalikes of theirs.

Not the sort of community Paul expected the pair of punk goblins who'd attacked them earlier that morning to have come from, to say the least… the casual demeanor and atmosphere almost helped to put him more at ease. For everything strange and out of place that kept bothering Paul ever since he woke up in the forest earlier, there was something close to a sense of normalcy here.

A large, wide shape loomed at the edge of the barrier between fields, village, and the forest beyond both. A barn, appearing old and run down, stood overgrown with foliage, marking it as having once been claimed by the forest- with no farmhouse of any sort nearby, none that Paul could see. He briefly wondered if any of the residents had thought to snatch up the structure that they'd clearly found already built for a private living space, before he noticed other Goblimon lookalikes carting their wheelbarrows of food towards it, and returning with their loads empty. The big barn was probably used for storage instead, Paul guessed.

That, or the residents were keeping some secret, horrific monster hidden inside there, feeding it with every ounce of food and effort as they could.

The idea was silly, something right out of the scary stories Paul’s oldest used to try checking out from the library before his ex-wife found out. But Paul couldn't entirely discount the thought, either- flashing back to the giant insect monster chomping down on a tree trunk he'd ran past earlier that morning, he shivered…

“Arright, we're here.”

The Goblimon twins had long since stopped slugging each other in the arms, coming to a sauntering stop in front of a tent among the village standing taller and wider than the others. One look had Paul's heart drop out of his chest the moment he saw it- constructed around the entrance flap of hide on this tent stood a foreboding, savage archway made of long, thick bones.

To make matters worse, the ‘roof’ shading the entranceway into the tent looked to be made of the whole upper half of some downright nightmarish creature’s skull, fangs poking down from all along the outer rim. Too high up for Paul to be concerned about bumping or cutting part of his head along them, but still unsettlingly sharp and eerily still in that savage maw. And it was from these, Paul very suddenly noted in alarm, that he realized entering the larger tent would feel like walking into the open jaws and down the gullet of some huge predator. Something horrifying beyond anything he could have imagined lurking just outside the safety of the covers on his old bunk bed.

Upon looking down to the bone structures forming the supports for that skull-roof above the entryway, and spotting a row of wide nubs broken off close to the ‘support bar’ on the ground following the shape of the row of jaws above it, Paul realized that terrible image he’d conjured was very much literal.

“Data, Vaccine, Virus, shoot- aughhh, come onnn…”

A long, beleaguered groan in front of him drew Paul from his thoughts. Refocusing his vision, his clarity returned in time to see the Goblimon twins standing to face each other. The one on the right was holding out a large, clenched fist in front of him, hanging his head in disappointment. The other Goblimon held a hand out as well, palm open flat with his fingers all spread out, and wore a decidedly pleased expression on his face.

The playful interaction struck a distant chord of familiarity in Paul, one that didn’t sit very comfortably in his stomach. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d played Rock Paper Scissors to decide on something, it must have been ages.

“‘Ey, fair’s fair, don’t look at me!” The apparent winner held up his open palms placatingly, leaning maybe a bit too easily on his club set against the ground.

“Why do I keep thinkin’ you might juke me out sometime and pick somethin’ other dan Virus. You always go Virus.” The losing Goblimon chuffed, before turning to address Paul and Asher… and company. “Eyep, that’s me. I’ll go get the boss, you guys stay here for now. Be back in a sec’.”

Asher gave an eager nod and thumbs up down beside Paul, and the Goblimon brushed open the tent flap, slipping inside. Paul held in a shudder- seeing someone else go inside first didn’t help the unsettling visual that skull’s gaping maw built up much, to his sullen notice. It wasn’t that he was scared, he was an adult and he knew what was real and what wasn’t, but that didn’t keep the little flare of alarm from rising in his chest.

He turned to Asher and Coronamon next to him, needing to take care of important business first, anyway.

“Alright, before we go inside and meet with the Boss here… which is what we need to get right to get home as soon as we can from wherever we are right now, so listen up: Rules. For both of you.” Paul directed this most pointedly towards the spitfire glued to Asher’s side, since it didn’t look like he’d be separating Asher from that bad influence of his anytime soon.

Asher looked up expectantly, while Coronamon’s gaze scrunched up stubbornly as he stared with him.

“First off, we’re going to be polite to the Boss while we’re meeting him- this is his house, we’re going to follow his Rules, and we’re not going to be rude and interrupt or speak out of turn, got it?” A pair of nods- they were listening, so Paul went on. “I will be doing the talking and apologize for you, since you two can’t seem to do it right yourselves, and you’re going to be respectful and not complain about whatever he asks you to do to make up for it. Got it?”

“Got it,” Asher echoed, nodding to let Paul know he heard him loud and clear. Now if only he would follow through on that… there would be no reason for Paul to be upset with him, in the case that he did.

Coronamon, on the other hand, had looked away, grumbling something Paul couldn’t pick up with his little arms folded against his chest. Paul’s eyes flashed- he must not have heard him the first time.

“Got it?” Paul repeated, louder so the rude little cub would hear him.

Coronamon bristled, hind paws slipping backwards a bit, while his fiery tail lashed back and forth irresponsibly. Paul felt his brow furrow further into a scowl, irritation creeping up inside him. This again? The citizens of ‘Goblimon’ or whatever this region was called would not be happy if the little spitfire set their whole village ablaze with his carelessness.

“Yep, we got it!” Asher spoke up loudly, taking a quick step forward towards Paul to offer him a thumbs up of understanding. Paul relaxed at the answer- at least Asher was being responsible, knowing how important it was to Listen and follow the Rules.

More than Paul could say for the cub standing behind him, Asher’s hand clasped in his paw.

The sound of tent fabric flapping drew Paul’s attention back over to the entrance, watching the Goblimon make his return and trudge back over. Just in time, too, Paul had finished preparing everything he wanted to before meeting with their Boss and making their case.

“Arright, youse guys are good to come in now,” he called, jabbing a thumb backwards towards the tent entranceway. “Boss still ain’t too happy, but at least he’s ready for ya. Didn’t really catch ‘im in a bad mood, either, so better take da lucky break while youse gots it.”

The Goblimon waved them over to the tent flap entrance, and Paul sucked in an involuntary breath before stepping through the threshold.

It didn’t help much. He still felt like he was walking right into the open jaws of a terrifying predator just waiting to snap its jaws shut over him. And swallow hard. And sigh in contentment.

The inside of the tent surprised Paul- it was still relatively well-lit, for its harrowing appearance on the outside. The daylight seemed to filter through the heavy canvas fabric just fine, and a few slits were left open across the wall close to the ceiling to let in the light from outside more easily. The interior appeared rather sparse and simple in design, a very low table with a few seating mats around it being the largest thing Paul thought to note in the relatively small space.

Not much further behind it hung a pair of long, dark curtains, looking at first as though they were hugging the back wall of the small room inside the tent- before they began to rustle in movement, and Paul realized they were instead meant to keep separate this room from the room beyond it. A private office, Paul recognized.

The Boss stepped through the curtains into the room, and Paul's heart plunged right into the ground beneath him.

If he thought the Boss wasn't going to look all that threatening, from only what Paul had seen of the Goblimon twins and other residents to go off of, then he had another thing coming. Sporting green, musclebound skin and hands large enough to grasp around Paul's arms and torso like a hamburger, the frightening form lumbering into the room had to be the most monstrous man Paul had ever seen with his own two eyes.

He had long, pointed ears with piercings much like his… subordinates, Paul supposed, but stood out very distinctly from them with his tumble of wild, white hair and the fanged, beastly expression his long face had contorted into. This monster-man alone seemed to make up for all the true menace the Goblimon themselves were lacking in spades, with his skull tattoos and monstrous countenance and long demonic horns. Paul's stomach turned with dread at the heavy thought of this man being the one they had to negotiate with.

The Boss didn't even have a shirt on, his powerful muscles and wild-cut abdominals on full display. Paul's face heated up, averting his eyes in secondhand embarrassment- they must have really caught him at a bad time.

The monster-man's fierce eyes caught on Paul and his son upon stepping into the room, widening in that instant as he paused to look back and forth between them.

A long, tense moment passed, before the fearsome Boss closed his eyes and let out a long, beleaguered sigh.

“Alright. Were you humans tryin’ to steal our food?” he growled out, his voice low and guttural, as he opened his eyes to set them both in his sights again.

The Goblimon twins at the entranceway behind him let out a pair of alarmed grunts, and the little- the Herissmon at Paul's side sharply turned its head to look back towards them. The relief Paul felt that he was able to keep from flinching at the motion was immeasurable. He couldn’t let any of the three of them ruin their first impression with the Boss.

Paul resisted the urge to inhale sharply upon being addressed, the reminder that it was his turn to respond and further resolve the situation not lost on him. He lifted his hands to emphasize his responsibility over the children present, just as he had before, with one hand on Coronamon's shoulder and another laid around the back of Asher's neck.

“My son Asher and his friend here both did try to steal food from you and your subordinates, yes. They both understand it was VERY wrong of them to do and won't be doing it again.” Little squeeze. Little squeeze. Coronamon's tail hung low in shame. Asher stood rigid and still. Paul nodded to himself- they were being quiet and respectful when they were supposed to, that was good.

“So if there's anything for them to do to make up for it, there’s that.” Paul let go to wipe his forehead with a palm, the easy part done. “But one other thing, while we have you here- we're also very lost. We still need food and shelter, at least until we get our bearings to get down where on Earth we even are, and we’re willing to work in exchange for any help you can give us- especially access to or directions to the nearest phone that works, that would be very much appreciated. I can’t get any service around here on my cell, and I need to get in contact with the office back home to let them know I can't come in for work today.”

Paul let himself breathe, satisfied with his words and waiting for the Boss's response, before something else came to mind that he figured the Boss would want to ensure.

“Don’t worry about needing to keep watch to make sure these two don't cause any more trouble in the meantime, too- I'll be keeping a very close eye on both of them already,” Paul assured, giving a stern, pointed look to Asher and Coronamon. No doubt this Boss would want the same close supervision on them, vehemently against leaving them alone to their devices in his workplace, especially after the difficulty they’d caused. It was good of Paul to be preemptive in his offer, he knew.

The Boss’s frightening eyes flicked up to meet Paul’s when he started speaking, holding his gaze and remaining quiet even for a long moment after he’d finished. The silence hung in the air for a heavy, unnerving beat or two, before he responded.

“…Right.” The imposing, musclebound figure heaved a sigh- and to Paul’s surprise, shook his head, waving a clawed hand in dismissal.

“Look- you guys aren’t the ones I’m peeved about, alright? We’re just in a real muck of trouble, the tension’s got me running hot lately. We’ve gotta speed up the harvesting, shore up our food stores, and frankly the last thing I need on my plate is havin’ to deal with a couple’a humans and their Digimon doin’ whatever they want with the place,” he grunted, rolling his eyes. Paul blinked- now that the Boss was speaking, he all too quickly recognized the very flat look on his face. “I’d much rather drop this and see you off on your way before anything messy happens, just to save us any extra hassle.”

The Boss folded his arms and closed his eyes, and Paul just stared. If he had more to say, then it would be rude for Paul to start talking and interrupt him, so he stayed silent while he waited. He was right on the money, too- the Goblimon Boss opened his eyes again to settle on Paul, continuing on.

“…But ya know what? I respect that you apologized for the trouble. Even offered to help out- fair exchange for what you needed.” He raised an eyebrow towards Paul, who took the conversation signal to wordlessly nod in response. “So I dunno, maybe I’m feeling a bit more generous than usual. I think we can work out a deal.”

Paul’s shoulders threatened to slump with the sheer relief of tension leaving them, glad that the hardest part was over. He watched as the Boss’s massive figure stooped down to sit cross-legged at the side of the low table opposite to them, wide enough to take up the whole end. Almost comically, the opposite side length was clearly long enough to fit the two more reasonably sized seating mats instead.

He carefully set down his savage, studded club of thick bone, leaving it by his side while he reached over to set up a kettle dangling from the hook of a metal frame on the table’s side that Paul hadn’t noticed before.

The Boss looked up from lighting the kettle up with a snap of flame, the curiosity on his face plain and no longer hidden as he watched Paul from across the table. “Here, have a seat and we’ll hash out the details, yeah?”

----------------------------------------

Paul huffed, straining his arms as high as they could go, careful to balance the pole of the fruit catcher in his grip while he gently tugged at the rich, ripe fruit hanging among the tree’s higher boughs.

It wasn’t all that surprising that the Goblimon directed him to this task before anything else, in hindsight. Paul was the tallest one working there, after all.

He and Asher had been directed back towards the fields they’d been watching earlier that morning, after their appointment had wrapped up. Asher and his friend had been pointed to a shed full of garden equipment to get some tools for helping them dig up legs of meat out of the field soil once they were ‘ripe.’ Paul, on the other hand, was instead handed a fruit picker set on a long, tall pole, and directed towards the orchard along the other side of the field.

And the trees he was tasked with harvesting the juicy, delectable fruit from… grew lemons. The entire orchard, there at the Goblimon farms, consisted of nothing but lemon trees.

Was that strange? Was this another strange thing about this place, with its green skinned hooligans and horrifying creatures running amok in the woods, or was it rather, instead, more headache-inducingly normal? Paul couldn’t help but wonder, his gaze wandering over to Asher and Coronamon pulling a particularly big hunk of meat out of the ground together, and toppling over each other backwards when it finally came free.

Paul couldn’t help huffing out a short, involuntary laugh of disbelief, shaking his head.

He turned to let the fruit he’d collected gently roll out of the fruit rake’s wire basket and into the bucket nearby. He could almost imagine he was right there back in his childhood home, picking lemons and oranges off the trees all across the big backyard to earn Time he could spend playing with his friends wherever he wanted, rather than doing it in exchange for food and shelter from strangers.

In reality- well, ‘reality,’ he chuffed- Paul had no idea what to make of it. Nor did he know whether the familiar mundanity of the fruit and the chores was helping him feel better about this whole situation, or if it was starting to get to him instead.

* * *

“Oh- right, that reminds me of the other thing I wanted to bring up,” Paul had asked, setting down a cup of sweet lemon tea he’d been politely sipping through their discussion with the Boss.

“About the meal you said we’d get to share with the rest of your, uh, subordinates this evening after working today. That isn’t going to have any of the meat we saw getting dug up in the fields earlier in it, will it? It’s not safe to eat meat that’s been lying around in the hot sun all day, it’s probably gone bad by now,” Paul went on, certain that his reasonable concerns would be at the very least recognized and taken seriously by the other reasonable adult present, and be acted upon if needed.

“The hot sun?” the Boss echoed, raising an eyebrow to Paul in curiosity before shaking his head, to Paul’s surprise. “Naw, the Digimeats don’t go bad or anything unless you toss ‘em into the trash or the Recycle Bin. Otherwise plenty safe to store up and eat anytime just fine, I can attest,” he shrugged.

Paul just stared back, uncomprehending. What on Earth was he talking about? He was starting to second-guess his categorizing this ‘Boss’ as another sensible adult so quickly.

“What do you mean, meat doesn’t go bad?! Yes it does,” Paul sputtered, appalled at the lack of any food safety sensibilities. “If you leave it out for too long, the bacteria and germs build up and will make you really sick if you try to eat it. That's biology, that's how the Rules of food work.” He couldn't believe he was having to explain this to another adult, who was looking at Paul like HE was the one with a pair of devilish horns sprouting from the sides of his head.

Paul was interrupted by a long, drawn out gasp at his side, much to his chagrin. He thought he'd made it very clear earlier that he didn't want to be interrupted, to make the best first impression on the Boss that they could.

When he turned to look, his son’s mouth was agape. Asher’s face had broken open in wide-eyed awe, realization plain across his expression.

“Oh MAN…” he breathed, not really even looking at anyone at the table as he spoke aloud. “Dad’s right, food doesn’t really work like that… back HOME. What if we’re someplace else, where food DOESN’T go bad like that? How could we have gotten lost in that weird forest this far away from home, anyway- unless it was like a whole different WORLD or something??”

He looked up at Paul with the same expression for a moment, as though he were putting the pieces of the most nonsensical puzzle together Paul had ever seen, and expecting his Dad to have gotten the picture the same moment he did. What in the world?

Asher’s head spun to look back towards the Boss soon after- and to Paul’s mortification, the Boss was looking at him right back with an almost bemused expression on his fearsome face.

“Do you know where- wait, don’t tell me,” Asher began, before clapping a hand to his mouth the next instant. “Man, oh MAN, did we really end up transported to a whole ‘nother world?” Asher's head was all but on a swivel now, looking back and forth between Paul, the green demon man, and Coronamon for confirmation. “I can't believe it! Are we in the Pokemon World?!”

Paul stared at him, disapproval written plain across his face. Did Asher really interrupt their conversation for… this?

He was startled, however, by the low, growling chortles coming from the other side of the table.

“Kid catches on quick,” the Boss snorted in amusement, pouring himself some more tea before hanging the kettle back up on the frame. “Can't say I've met ‘Pokeymon’ before, but I wouldn't be surprised if you have even if I haven’t. The Digital World is preeeetty dang big, after all- I've never met anyone who's seen the end of it.”

Paul stared, having not decided yet whether he was mortified or relieved that the Boss seemed to be taking Asher rudely butting in with stride. He was just humoring Asher, right? There was no way this was real.

“Oh, right, yeah, I forgot Coronamon didn't know what a Pokemon was, either. That makes sense,” Asher nodded seriously to himself, before looking back up at the Boss in wonder. “So what's the Digital World? Are we there? Where is it, really?”

The Boss hummed, sipping from his tea. “Hmmm, never thought I'd be the one givin’ this talk.” He set down his cup, having fully moved to converse with Asher while Paul was left in dumbfounded silence.

“Well, from how I understand it, you humans came from a world pretty different from this one- made of somethin’ that isn't Data, which is what the Digital World is made out of,” he began, gesticulating vaguely with a massive hand.

“But they're both connected somehow, right? They sorta exist alongside each other, things from one world affecting things in the other… I think. I don't really get a lot about it myself, I've just lived here in the Digital World my whole life.” The fearsome Boss shrugged, nonchalant. “Junk data goes out, humans use it somehow. Junk data comes in, shapes the land and things fall from the sky. Just how things are around here, really.”

“Whoa…” Asher sat there enraptured, drinking in the explanation without pause. “So this is all in cyberspace, or something? There's been a whole WORLD here this whole time? That's so cool…” He turned to look at Coronamon beside him, who seemed to brighten a bit upon hearing Asher think so highly of the Boss's unnervingly concise nonsense. “Coronamon, what did you say people were called here again? ‘Digimon’? What are all of you Digimon doing here, then?”

The devilish Boss let out an uproarious laugh, earning a few grunts of alarm from a passerby or two just outside.

“Tryin’ to make a living, for the most part!” he cackled, slamming his fist into the ground next to him a couple times in his fit of laughter. He even flicked away a comical tear from one eye, petering out into a good natured sigh to catch his breath.

“But your little buddy's about right. We're all Digimon- Digital Monsters, since we live in the Digital World, yada yada.” He waved dismissively, unhooking the kettle to pour Asher some more tea. “Here in the Goblimon Village we're more or less just tryin’ to get by, though, really. Growing and storing enough food just to keep all the Goblimon here fed without some stinkers here ‘n there tryin’ to steal it is hard enough as it is.”

Paul stared at the Boss with an emotion he just could not identify for the life of him. A sort of dawning horror, a shock settling in numbly the longer the monster- the huge, green horned man was a MONSTER- kept talking, answering Asher's questions. He wanted to scream, scare it away and grab Asher and run for the hills, were it not for the fact that it would be very RUDE of him to do so when the Boss had invited them to his tent and served them tea. It even tasted good; Paul really liked lemon.

Instead, Paul drew in a breath, feeling awfully small for a second.

“How are we supposed to get home, then?” He grimaced, swallowing down a sour taste that wasn't lemon. He didn't want to go along with this, the idea of getting stuck in a different WORLD was absurd, but with the mountain of proof piling up, and the threat of monsters staring him in the face…

Or attacking him from his side, came a sudden thought. Paul barely kept in a shudder at the sudden awareness of coarse fur and monstrous claws just next to him.

The Boss smirked through a sip of his tea, shaking his head.

"That's always the Giga-Bit question when it comes to you humans, ain't it?" he chuckled, but his humor quickly faded. The Boss gusted out a sigh, closing his eyes and folding his arms. “Y'know, now that you ask, I don't rightly know. Digimon just live here in the Digital World. We don't really have much reason to go to the Human world for the most part… so we don't. Like I said, I've lived in the Digital World my whole life.”

Paul’s gaze drifted down, unfocusing as he tried to untangle and conceptualize and fathom the idea. No way home, lost and stuck in a world that wasn’t Earth, constantly fending off horned monsters who could burn down forests and giant insects that could tear apart cars-

“Really, you’ve never wanted to go to our world? You really should, it’s way better!” Asher interrupted his thoughts, looking up at the Boss with a bright grin like he hadn’t just insulted their very generous host.

“Asher, stop that. This is his Home, we don’t say rude things like that to other people,” Paul snapped, shooting a glare down at Asher for his behavior. “Come on now, apologize to Mister…” He trailed off, turning to glance at and lifting up a hand to gesture towards the green-skinned, wild man.

“Ogremon,” came the dry response.

“Okay… sorry, Mr. Ogremon.” Asher did as he was told, his voice sullen. “I didn’t see any TVs or video games around that any of the Goblimon were playing with, I just thought you guys would like them.”

Paul scoffed, rolling his eyes. Of course he did- it was really just an excuse to play more video games where he could. Even getting thrown into a dangerous different world hadn’t done anything to tamp down his insatiable addiction.

“Well, I want to go to the Human World, it sounds really fun!” Coronamon piped up, earning a brief, annoyed glance from Paul.

“Think I’ll have to take your word for it, then. Don’t know how I would, anyhow, since I don’t know how to get to the Human World from here,” The Boss, Ogremon, shrugged. Paul was going to have to have a stern talk with Asher about how Lucky he was and how Nice Ogremon was being. “Buuuut…”

Asher gasped, sitting up in rapt attention. “Buuuuuuut?” he echoed, and even Paul couldn’t help but lean in a bit in sudden interest.

“Buuuuut, I do know OF someone who probably knows,” Ogremon mimicked back, picking up his cup of tea again to take a long, contented sip from. “He’s a good long ways away, but your best bet from what I know of is a Digimon named Astamon. I don’t know that much about him, but it stands to reason that someone who’s known even way out in the boonies like here at the Goblimon Village when he hangs around more’a the bustling city-type Sects instead has gotta be noteworthy, right?” Paul nodded absently, finding it hard to follow.

“How to put it…” Ogremon squinted, rubbing his bony, jutting chin for a moment. “Astamon’s the kind of ‘mon who’s known for his connections, you know what I mean? What I’m saying is, if he can’t get you back to the Human World himself, he’ll know someone who can.”

“Astamon…” Paul murmured to himself, feeling out how the name tasted in his mouth to say. “Alright, thank you. And how would you get to the city he’s in from here, how far is it?”

“Oh, it’s far, alright. We’ve had to get pret-ty self sufficient since we moved way out here. Traveling really anywhere for supplies has gotten to be a real hassle- too much trouble than it’s worth,” Ogremon grumbled. “That city Sect in particular, ough- Universe City’s probably a month or two’s time for walkin’ Digimon.”

“A whole month!?” Asher cried out, for once mirroring the pit of stone that dropped in Paul’s stomach at the notion. “But I’m gonna miss so much school!”

“‘Ey, I warned you!” Ogremon held up his hands placatingly. “The good news is, the city Sects are generally pretty well connected- if you can find one with a Trailmon station there, chances are you can ride it over to Universe City in no time once you got a Trailmon pass. The nearest Sect with a city I can think of would be… out east, maybe around a week’s walk thataway.” He pointed in a direction uselessly, as following with his eyes Paul couldn’t see much farther than the tent wall. He drew in a breath- this was helpful, though. Much better to be out of work for a week than a month, at least.

“Alright, Asher, what do we say?” Paul turned to look down at his son, voice pointed.

“Oh, yeah. Thank you for the help, Mr. Ogremon!” Asher leapt to his feet, his expression bright as he turned to look back at the Boss. “I can’t wait to get home and show Coronamon what my house is like, and where I go to school-”

“Now hold on, you fellas aren’t going anywhere,” Ogremon grunted, narrowing his eyes with a sudden demeanor that made Paul stiffen his back a bit more rigidly in alarm. “Not until you’re fed and rested, that is. You leave the preparations for tomorrow, how about- we’ll see what we can do to help you out then.”

* * *

Paul carefully pulled another crisp, yellow lemon from the high branches of the tree, letting the fruit picker’s basket gently catch it.

That was what Ogremon had said, anyhow- and Paul wasn’t going to deny that such thorough hospitality shown to a couple of strangers had been pretty solid evidence that he was honest about it. He even seemed comfortable enough to leave Paul and his son to their own devices and help out working while he left for somewhere, on some business or other he had to take care of.

Paul took a breath, reaching the fruit picker high into the lemon tree he was working through once again. Food and shelter for the night, and directions for where to look next to get back home, all just for a Chore Day's worth of work helping out. How lucky were they, to have stumbled upon such generous people so soon after getting lost in… wherever exactly the ‘Digital World’ was?

“Don't worry, I got it!”

The man let out a strangled cry as a white shape leapt out from beneath the thick cover of tree leaves, and took a savage swipe at the fruit Paul had been reaching for with its terrible, blood-red claws.

The lemon in question fell, neatly snipped from its stem to fall right into the path of Paul's fruit picker- or it would have been, if he hadn't jerked the basket away in wild reflex. Instead, the fruit hit the hard ground with a disappointing splat. Ruined… just great.

Teeth gritting, Paul squinted up into the tree, searching for the bone-chilling snout of the creature that just would not leave him alone. It was clawing its way down the tree branches, now, stalking ever closer to Paul behind the cover of foliage.

He was not going to let this thing win.

“Paul?” The man stiffened as the beast's voice called down, swinging down to hang from the lowest visible branch and face him. “Sorry for surprising you like that, um. I can try not to do that again if you want. I just saw you were over here, and thought I could help?” She looked down to the smashed fruit on the ground, with a flicker of something across her muzzle. If Paul didn't know any better, he might have mistaken it for something almost seeming like dismay.

“I can handle this on my own, thank you,” Paul grumbled, carefully tipping the fruit picker down to deposit more lemons into his larger bucket back on the ground. Herissmon had swung low enough on the tree branches for him to whack away at with the long tool he had on hand, if it decided to attack. Staying prepared. “Why are you still here? You have no reason to be following me around- don't you think I have enough to worry about, lost in a world of monsters with no idea how I’d gotten here? What is your problem?”

The Herissmon flinched, as though Paul had swung the fruit picker to strike it like he'd planned to. It scrabbled its way across the branch and down the tree trunk, slinking to a stop just a few steps in front of Paul. Guilty.

“No, that's not…” it protested weakly, hooking its claws together in another poor intimidation display, sliding together with a smooth clack. “Paul, listen- I know this is all really scary for you, but I'm not going to hurt you, okay? I'm supposed to protect you, that's the reason why I'm here.”

“What- you, protect me?” Paul scoffed, leveling it with a glare of suspicion. He hefted the fruit picker in his hands, ready to defend himself if the Herissmon tried to attack him again. “No, of course you aren’t. You’re a- you’d probably be just as likely to tear me to shreds as any other monster out there that I have to keep Asher away from! Why in the world would I believe you?” he spat, gripping the garden tool tighter as he tried in vain to force his heart rate down to a more normal pace. If he let the creature smell his fear, no doubt it would be already on top of him in a tense, too-loud heartbeat.

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“I’d what?” Herissmon cried out, alarmed that Paul had caught onto its plan as quick as he did. “No, no, I’d never do that! Paul, listen- I’m supposed to be with you, we’re…”

She curled her claws, almost hesitant as for what to say for an agonizing moment, before looking back up to net Paul in her piercing, blue gaze. “Paul, we’re partners!”

The immediate flash of heat through Paul’s head upon hearing such an absurd claim must have been visible on his face, as the horrid little beast took a quick, shaky step back the next instant.

“What.” The heat cooled as quickly as it came, hardening Paul’s face like stone. “No, I’m done here. You’re going to stop bothering me and leave, and not implicate me in… whatever that’s supposed to mean. I’ve had enough.” He decisively turned away from Herissmon back to his work on the lemon tree, using the fruit picker to slam one of the branches with a solid, frustrated whack. The monster flinched again, intimidated enough to be kept at bay.

“No, that's not what I meant, listen- we're just… connected!” Herissmon tried again, recalculating its efforts to get Paul to drop his guard by attempting a different angle. “Humans don't come to the Digital World often, but the ones that do get to meet their Digimon partners, you see? They're the Digimon that stay with them and protect them from danger while they're here in the Digital World. That's why I'm here, I'm your Digimon partner!” It reached for Paul with its sharp claws once more, but Paul hastily withdrew before it could reach him.

“Yeah, I'm sure you are,” Paul sneered, brandishing his fruit picker to put it between him and Herissmon defensively. “Why should I believe you, anyways? I've never had a monster ‘partner’ of Any kind before- you could be saying this just to get me to let you closer.”

The Herissmon seemed to wilt a little, disappointed that Paul had seen through its facade.

“But… you…” She tried attempting her weak intimidation tactic again, sliding her bloody claws over each other with their smooth clacks. Paul's face twisted in further disgust upon hearing how upset Herissmon sounded, over something as ridiculous as him not letting her get her way.

“But- you have a Digivice, don't you?” she managed out after a shaky breath, perking up to try and right her posture in a more bipedal stance. “The one I gave back to you, after you- after you dropped it. They're supposed to be a sign of a human and Digimon partnership.”

It took Paul a moment to realize what it was talking about, reaching a hand to dig through his pocket.

“…This?” he asked, pulling out the digital watch he'd left in his pocket, holding it up to study it. The retro, sea-gray screen read in simple digital typeface: 100% Sync Complete. Paul's brow furrowed in confusion as he looked, the text lingering for a few seconds longer before the digital clock he'd seen before returned. It was 3:37 in the afternoon, now- a full day of work Paul had missed, it occurred to him.

“Yeah, that one!” Herissmon pointed with a razor sharp claw, its voice raising in volume for a moment. “You saw how Asher has one too, right? He and Coronamon are partners, and it's the same for us. That- that proves it, come on!”

Paul made a face, decidedly unhappy with the reminder that all the Rules were different now. He was not looking forward to all the trouble he’d be going through stumbling around and bumping into to feel them out for himself.

“What are you talking about? This thing doesn’t look anything like Asher’s watch- even without the crack that his has. Just… vaguely the same shape.”

He looked back down to Herissmon, his expression dubious. “If this really is the same ‘Digivice’ thing as what Asher has, or whatever it is, then how come they look so different? That just doesn’t make sense. I don’t believe you.” He held it out for Herissmon to see, before suddenly remembering the danger and retracting his arm, holding the device from a much safer distance.

The creature peered upwards towards Paul’s Digi-watch-vice thing, some of its quills laying back flat as he spoke.

“Wait, really-? But I thought…” It faltered, struggling to speak for a moment- before its eerie, icy blue gaze grew sharp as steel.

The beast’s quills flared outward to take up a spikier, thicker volume, and it bared its fangs, clutching its claws to its head and letting out a strangled growl that had Paul taking a hasty step back or two away from as his suspicions were confirmed.

“GraAAUGH- Paul, you’re not listening!” it snapped, looking back up at him with claws buried in its fur, itching to strike and find purchase on his skin and rip him to pieces. A brief something flashed across its face, and Paul could see its beastly throat swallow in between labored breaths before speaking again.

“Okay, if you really want to be logical with this, then just think about the situation you’re in for a second!” Herissmon threatened, pointing a grisly claw and baring its fangs at him, lasting a tense beat that sent Paul’s heart pounding in his chest. “You’re stuck in a world of… of monsters, right? Digital Monsters, ooh, scary! You have no idea how to defend yourself and keep yourself safe; you’re scared and not thinking clearly! Sure, you’ve met some nice ones who just want some farmwork done, but surely that’s no reason to generalize. Look, you’re being smart about this! I get it!”

Its fur was bristling, shutting its eyes for a second longer and opening them before Paul could use the window of opportunity to make a break for it- or make a preemptive strike with the pole in his hands, if he could get his arms to work.

“And it’s not like you’re wrong- there really ARE some dangerous Digimon out there, that you could end up getting really hurt by, and that you’ll need help protecting yourself from!” Herissmon's claws dragged across its snout, before flaring them outward again for Paul to see plainly. “You’ve been lucky so far, and I’m sure there’ll be plenty of other Digimon who won’t want to hurt you on your way home, but- come on, think about it! How many other Digimon have you met who’ve OFFERED to protect you and keep you safe, without asking for anything in return? How many other Digimon already have?”

Another flash of something Paul couldn't read twisted into her face, as though she'd tasted something foul. She continued on, meeting Paul's eyes with her own piercing, blue gaze when he didn't respond.

“Just one, right?” Herissmon took another ragged breath, pointing her bloodied claws out towards the field. “Think about it- are you really going to let… let Coronamon be the only one protecting you and Asher while you're stuck here?” she managed, a brief crack besmirching her tight voice. She was watching him carefully, concentrating hard on Paul's face. “How well do you think that'll end up, huh?”

Paul's attention strayed over to the field, coming to rest on Asher and Coronamon knee deep in dirt and laughing together. They were taking turns drawing small bones from a bucket between them, pushing each one down into the earth in a straight line, as though they were seeds to be planted. Asher picked out a smaller bone from the bucket, calling over to Coronamon to look closer- before a Goblimon sowing bones nearby took notice and waved over to get their attention.

“‘Ay, ‘ay- not da teeth! You can plant any a’ da bones you can find, but never da teeth!” The Goblimon hollered, kneeling up from his own work to address the kids. “Dere shouldn't be any fangs or anythin’ in da Digimeat circulation, but any we find we're supposed to take straight ta da Boss, his orders. He’s pretty strict about dat, think he needs ‘em for somethin’.”

“Oh, okay! We won't, then!” Asher stood up on his knees to yell back, giving a thumbs up to the Goblimon, who returned it. Asher knelt back down with Coronamon, heads down and huddled together while Asher brought the thing in his hands closer to give them a better look.

Paul's grip on his fruit picker tightened, gritting his teeth. As loath as he was to agree, the Herissmon was right- there was no way he'd be able to rely on that little stinker to keep him safe while he was here, much less Asher. No doubt he’d be leading Asher into trouble much more often than he would be keeping him out of it.

That settled it, then. Paul needed a better idea of what he was in for here.

“What kind of monsters could we run into, here in the- ugh, here in the Digital World?” Paul fought the urge to sigh and roll his eyes. Even just saying it out loud felt like defeat. “Or… Digimon, whatever they’re called. How- how big do they get, anyway? Just generally.”

Herissmon blinked up at him for a moment with those piercing, blue eyes, seeming surprised by the sudden question- before she perked up in understanding, catching the point Paul was angling for.

“Well, I wouldn’t necessarily say that size has too much to do with it, since from what I’ve heard it can be pretty misleading sometimes and catch you off guard when you’re not expecting it,” Herissmon crossed her arms, her blue gaze sliding off of Paul to look out over the field in thought- much to the appreciation of Paul’s heart rate.

“What’d be more important to pay attention to, I’d say, would be a Digimon’s Level- finding ourselves on the bad side of a Champion-level Digimon would generally be a lot more dangerous than facing down a Rookie-level one, like me or Coronamon,” it went on, counting both categories on its razor-sharp, horrible claws. “We could still put up a fight, especially if we’re working together, but it’s still usually thought of as a pretty significant difference in power for being one Level apart. Most differences between Levels are like that, actually, now that I think about it…”

Herissmon glanced subtly back at Paul, but he caught it all the same, his heartbeat shooting through the roof for a moment. If it noticed his wild, jittery prey-instinct, or his difficulty in picking up the words it was saying, it didn’t speak up or point them out to make him explain himself.

“There’s that- but something even more important, and what I might say would probably be the biggest deciding factor for an encounter with Any given Digimon, would be what that Digimon wants.” Herissmon ran its claws over its pelt, smoothing down the fur over its front side. “There’s gonna be a reason a Digimon gets up all in your fur- like maybe it wants something out of you or just wants to know what your deal is, being human and all. There’s a lot who’ve never even seen one before, so you’d be just as strange to them as they probably would be to you, huh?”

The creature looked quickly over to Paul, watching his reaction. Too late, Paul realized that might have been- that was supposed to be a joke. It was too bad that it already looked away just as sharply and was set on moving on so quickly, he might have laughed a little. He got the joke, after all… it WAS pretty funny to think he’d seem as alien and odd to the weird, dangerous monsters living in this world as they did to him.

“Even, uh, Digimon that seem more on the wild side probably have something they want if you were to get into an encounter with them, too- maybe they want to test their strength against something new and different that happened to cross their path, or maybe they just really want you out of their territory. Putting up a fight isn’t the worst thing in the world, it can help settle tension when things get a bit heated… but it’s hardly the only solution you could pick out, is what I’m saying,” Herissmon hurried on, turning slightly away from Paul to hold her arms in a thinking pose that suddenly struck him as very human, in a way. “It’d even be for the best to avoid outright fighting, in some cases- there’s a lot of different ways for a Digimon that seems weaker to end up a lot stronger than you’d expect and overwhelm you.”

Herissmon’s little snout wrinkled in the middle of its discussion, and Paul made a face, reaching up to plug his nose for a moment. What an awful stench in the air.

“Like, ugh- like how a Digimon might take advantage of its home environment, or might Digivolve when you aren’t expecting it to, though that’s pretty rare for ones without human partners- or how a bunch of weaker Digimon could group together in a big horde, and-”

The little furry monster was interrupted by a distant voice- shouting the most obnoxious wordless battle cry Paul had ever heard.

THWAP- landing between them, squarely on the fallen mess of a lemon from earlier, was something Paul could only identify as having the shape of a thick, pink turd.

Paul’s face twisted in disgust, his whole body recoiling to the same degree. If there was any question of whether that lemon was in any way still safe to eat after being dropped, it was most assuredly inedible now. Gross.

“Eugh,” he choked, his head wheeling around to catch who the little stinker that threw it was. “What the- AGUH?”

Paul was the one interrupted, this time, by an absolute assault on the senses given godforsaken physical form.

Leaping out of the bushes along the edge of the forest with a sickening mix of nasal, congested voices and the spatter of slime slurrying this way and that, came line after line of… somethings colored a nauseating green, bringing a pungent stench to match. Out along the border between farm and forest landed blobs of putrid, green gunk solid enough to undulate forth from where they landed, like all the salt in the world hadn't been enough to beat back an infestation of slugs worse than the last time it'd rained.

Even worse, to Paul's horror and disgust, a pair of eyeballs rose up out of each one’s head on slimy, stringy stalks, accompanied by a set of disproportionately large and unsettlingly human teeth.

“Numemon Troop, ATTACK!” The largest one in front puffed itself up tall, bellowing out the order, and the blithering mouths behind and beside it let out shouts of stuffy, clamoring agreement, surging forward.

An invasion had begun, on both the farm and on Paul’s senses.

Paul choked at the revolting smell made worse hundredfold, stumbling back behind the lemon tree trunk to hide from a rain of pink turds sailing his way, only yanking his bucket of picked lemons to safety as a brief afterthought.

“Oh, GROSS, what are those things-?” Paul’s head was on a swivel, looking around as quick as he could to get an idea of how to react.

Ogremon, nowhere to be seen. The Goblimon workers that Paul could spot had noticed the horde attacking, and had gotten the same idea Paul had- shouting in alarm and scrambling to rush any food left exposed to the air to safety.

“Ack- they're Numemon!” The yelp came from Paul's feet, and when he snapped down to look his heart leapt into his throat. The horrible little beast had ducked behind the tree with him, its coarse, harsh fur brushing against Paul's pants.

“They usually live in places with lots of trash, and feed off the junk data there- but they can get to be huge pests if too many of them gather in other places.” It shuddered, poking its snout out to give a cautious peek around the tree trunk at the nauseating barrage. “I don't think I need to tell you why you don't want to get hit by their Nume-Sludge, do I? And you don't want to let your food get anywhere near it, either- they'd be WAY too gross to eat, no better than junk data itself… which is exactly what the Numemon eat in the first place.”

Paul recoiled at the thought, frantically wrenching his gaze from the creature up and around to take stock of his surroundings. His eyes landed on Asher and Coronamon looking around nearby, seeming bewildered at all the sudden commotion.

“Asher! The food!” he hissed over to his son, lunging for a larger bucket he’d set off to the side earlier. Quickly as he could, Paul slammed it upside down on the bucket full of lemons as a makeshift cover. “The Numemon, they’re throwing- whatever you do, DON’T let anything gross hit the meat! Take what you have and HURRY, get them somewhere safe- and at least try to find a fridge!”

Asher thankfully understood the urgency of the situation, and the importance of doing what he was told. Paul was too preoccupied with everything on his plate already to think of what he would do if Asher didn't.

“Okay, got it! Coronamon, come on, let's hurry!” Asher called back, turning with Coronamon to push the wheelbarrow they'd been loading full of meat down the fields and away from the storm of poop coming their way.

And not a moment too soon- Paul hardly had the time to readjust his focus before the Numemon Troop was upon him.

Paul gagged as the revolting stench sharpened with proximity. The onslaught of slugs had reached the tree he and Herissmon were hiding behind, readying more globs of pink poop to throw once they noticed the two of them- and Paul's disgust response kicked in full throttle.

Tightening his grip, he swung the wooden pole in his hands at the first foul-smelling slug to show its face as hard as he could. The fruit picker's sturdy wire basket hit that Numemon square in the face, catching on its teeth and huge, splayed out tongue- and the disgusting thing went flying. It landed a good few feet away with a nasal yelp and a satisfying splat, slumping a bit on the dirt where it landed. Paul's relief was short-lived, however, as another Numemon took its place just as quickly, bringing an even worse stink than the last.

Keenly aware of the bucket of fruit behind him that he could not let any of these gross things get their slimy pseudopods on even for a second, Paul kept swinging his improvised weapon, whacking and beating back the Numemon as hard as he could. It was that urgency and adrenaline, too, that kept him going when a wet smack of uncomfortable pink splattered on the leather hide apron he'd borrowed, disturbingly close to the exposed shoulder of his work shirt.

The apron was the only thing the Goblimon could provide him when Paul had asked for Yardwork Clothes earlier before he could do the chores they wanted him to do, much to his chagrin. Never had he wanted one of his big painting shirts so badly.

Paul whacked another Numemon with the fruit picker, earning a surprised BLEGH-! as it was slapped away. Another one behind it ducked, flattening itself into a pile of ooze and eyes and teeth in time for its comrade to sail over its head.

“What're we DOING, fellas?” it cried, indignant, as it puffed back up into its usual gross shape. “Numemon Troop, formation 4-S! Knock this bugger down, the farms will be OURS!”

Paul watched in bafflement and dismay as the Numemon shouted orders, decidedly not pleased to realize this was no ordinary horde of trash slugs- this was an organized horde of trash slugs.

A few more Numemon around it leapt to attention, hopping higher and higher to stack on top of the slime that'd barked the order. Four Numemon stacked atop each other faced Paul and his fruit picker, each drawing another pink turd at once to prepare their attack. Paul recoiled in disgust, struggling to heft his fruit picker back into a position to swing fast enough.

“Ughh, stop that, that's gross!” Paul twisted his face in disgust, trying a different idea to buy him some time. “You better be washing your hands- your-” he sputtered, remembering they didn't seem to actually have hands. “You better be washing up real good after this, eugh! Stop throwing poop!”

The Numemon on top, closest to Paul's eye level, actually lowered its ammo for a moment, blinking at him.

“Awww, thank you! I worked real hard getting this gross for the invasion, it's always nice to be appreciated when-”

Paul didn't hear the rest of what it had to say, squeezing his eyes shut and stumbling a bit as a headache hit him out of nowhere. A rush of something flooded his train of thought clean off the tracks, his brain left buzzing in its wake. It almost sounded like-

Lightning Quills!

Paul faltered in his attempt to prepare a swing hard enough to topple the stack of Numemon, instead letting one hand go to grip his temples. He grimaced at the sudden ache, and at how suddenly vulnerable he realized he was to the oncoming rain of turds that would surely be upon him because of it.

What he didn't expect, however, was the cry of surprise and alarm from the tower before him that came instead.

Cracking open his eyes only a little to let his head rest a bit more, Paul watched as a volley of electric blue needles fired from somewhere out of his view towards the stack of Numemon, sending the top two tumbling back onto the ground. The remaining two dropped their poop in panic, for which Paul was grateful- but the needles piercing their brothers in arms didn’t seem to last for long, dissolving into little motes of something that hurt Paul’s eyes to look at. The Numemon they’d struck true hefted themselves up to crawl away, looking relatively unharmed for a pair of alien cephalopods who'd gotten skewered.

“Don't worry, Paul, I've got your back!” came the voice again that sent Paul's back stiffening in fear, and he grimaced as his head reeled at the sudden motion. A grim reminder of how not even here, amidst the chaos and deep-seated aversion driving his actions and reflexes, could he let up his guard for a second.

Paul’s eyes creased, glaring at the remaining Numemon still in front of him, which the Herissmon had carelessly left unscathed. He mustered up the strength and willpower to heft up his fruit picker and swing, sending them flying. Eugh, good riddance.

The cacophony of the invasion all around was only made worse to Paul by the sudden headaches plaguing him at every turn, nasty enough to force Paul to take a second or longer to recover each time before he could go on whacking the Numemon away. It certainly didn’t help, either, how the horrible little predator he needed to keep on guard for kept flashing into his vision here and there, firing electric blue needles from its yellow mane and barreling its dangerous form into more Numemon as they surged forth.

The Herissmon hardly seemed to be doing better than Paul was faring with his fruit picker, anyhow… not to mention how much harder it was for Paul to keep beating back the Numemon with his arms and body locking up so much. What was it thinking, making things so much more difficult? It’d be better if she just wasn’t there.

Needle-Point Dive!

Paul flinched as another splitting headache attacked his brain, making him whiff his swing again at another Numemon greedily beelining for Paul’s lemon bucket. To make matters worse, Paul even almost tripped when a blur of white zoomed past his legs, racing for the Numemon Paul had been aiming for and rolling right smack into it- not that it did much. The little stinker tumbled away at the force, rolling to a stop a good few feet away, and righting itself hardly a moment later to scuttle away and escape, unfazed.

Paul turned to scowl at the little monster who'd gotten in the way, nearly forgetting to brace himself for the shot of icy fear through his veins as he did. He opened his mouth to speak, but the horrible thing had already unfurled itself and locked him in its eerie blue gaze.

“Okay, this isn't working. I'm doing the best I can, but can you please give me a hand here?” Herissmon whined, the exasperation in her voice catching Paul off guard- leaving him appalled at the sheer audacity. Was he hearing her right?

“Give YOU a hand!? I'm having a hard enough time without- without you distracting me, and getting in the way! I'm doing way more than you are, so don't even start it!” Paul spat, shooting Herissmon a glare to fight down the alarm rising up his throat as he looked. “It's almost like you're trying to make this harder for me, instead of helping.”

Herissmon looked taken aback, staring up at Paul with its hackles raised, dangerous quills puffed out in a threatening display.

“What are YOU saying, that I’m not helping? I’ve been trying to, but each time I reach out for your help you keep just blowing me off! I thought by now you’d be over this!” it bit back in disrespect, voice full of venom and backtalk.

“This is ridiculous- I sure haven’t seen any of that happening, what are you-” Paul began, though his scowl vanished from his face outright in an instant when something hit him- thankfully, not poop.

Through those awful headaches that’d been gutting him over the course of the Numemon invasion, the voice crying nonsense in his head… it sounded like Herissmon’s voice.

Paul looked at the creature with new eyes, his expression outright incredulous. “You? You’re the one giving me these awful headaches- how are you doing that, stop it! Can’t you see I’m trying to focus here?” Paul exclaimed, before his face darkened just a touch. Or was she doing it on purpose?

“Come on, I really don’t think it’d hurt like that if you weren’t trying to fight it so hard! I feel like I’ve been running on low power this whole time, because you wouldn’t work with me!” Herissmon spread her claws apart, palms up, looking up at Paul with clear frustration written across her face. “Listen, I don’t know how it works, but we’re partners, remember? We’re SUPPOSED to work together, as a team, or neither of us will get anywhere!”

Paul stared for a moment that felt too long. The monster’s intimidating display was all he could see, in that harrowing moment- its savage claws spread wide, those eerie blue eyes hooking on his prey instinct and locking his body in place, the jagged set of predators’ fangs glinting in the daylight. To his own indignation, he’d almost forgotten to be wary of the Herissmon, in all its danger and capacity and eager anticipation for the opportunity to arise that it may shred Paul to pieces once he were to let his guard down-

Splat.

Paul felt something cold and wet hit him, just below the shoulder.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, his expression scrunched into a line of disgust deeper than anything he’d felt in years.

Gross, gross, gross gross gross gross gross Gross Gross GROSS GROSS GROSS-

“Alright- ALRIGHT, FINE. How do I do that, just tell me, please hurry,” Paul gagged, a different flavor of bile rising up his throat to crowd out the old one. The sooner this was over, the better.

“I- what?” Herissmon sputtered, sounding surprised for a moment, before schooling its muzzle to let nothing else slip. “Okay, right- I don’t know how it’s supposed to work, but you could at the very least stop trying to fight it when I reach out for help! We’re partners, so we should be syncing up and acting like it, you know.”

Paul could feel his face fall into regret and dismay as he took in Herissmon's words. Lord, was he really doing this? He did not want to play along with any of this, let Herissmon or Asher or that other stinker have the chance to get their way while Paul was still finding his footing here.

Another turd sailed over his shoulder, jerking Paul's attention back to their assailants. A pair of Numemon had approached the two of them behind the tree once more, already winding up more poop to fling at human and Digimon- and behind them, chaos. The fields the Goblimon had been tending to were all but overrun by waves upon waves of slugs, undulating towards the large barn at the far edge, where Paul could see most of the Goblimon had retreated towards. Asher's fiery little partner stood out amongst the pattering rain of fireballs blasting from the structure, the brilliant yellow of his flame catching Paul's eye and blasting the disgusting horde surging towards them. If Paul had an opening to make it over there, somehow…

Paul grit his teeth, hefting his fruit rake and setting his focus back on the Numemon in front of him- and took in a sharp breath.

The rush of something flooded back into his head, and it was with a strained effort that Paul managed to keep from instinctively pushing back against it… instead, letting it in. A flood of information surged through his head, drawing his focus to a tight circle around the Numemon on the left- as well as another Numemon sliming towards them, just behind it. Paul could feel the information building up, drawing his sight and consuming his attention, the tension of the moment rising up in his body and his throat, until he couldn't hold it in any longer-

“Lightning Quills!”

The words rose up in his throat and flew out of his mouth before he could think to keep them in, startling himself with his own volume.

No sooner than he'd belted out the words, did a sharp volley of those same electric blue needles come out of nowhere to rain down on the Numemon Paul had zeroed in on just seconds ago. To his surprise, the needles this time seemed to leave the Numemon howling and shuddering from the sparking electricity running through its form. Even further, the needles seemed to sail beyond it to catch another Numemon in its volley, that had Paul blinking in astonishment- he hadn't even really noticed that one.

“Geheh-EHH?” The Numemon just next to Herissmon’s unfortunate target gave a cry of befuddlement, its eyes impossibly bulging even wider as it watched its comrade be taken out of commission so quickly. An opening that Paul was quick enough to take advantage of, smacking it backwards with his fruit picker into the horde surging past.

Paul could hardly believe that worked, for one. More Numemon noticed their presence and began converging on them to attack, but Paul shot a suspicious, searching look towards the more pressing matter at hand. The Herissmon was staring at its claws, open maw stretching wider across its face, before launching itself at another assailant approaching them, tearing away at the slimes with vicious glee. At the very least, Paul was relieved to see it was focused on doing what it was supposed to be doing, so he felt safe to continue beating away at more stinkers trying to steal his lemons.

“Needle-Point Dive!”

The two of them were all but caught up in a whirlwind of blows and thrown mess, as Paul fought off the onslaught- and Herissmon seemed to be doing a lot better herself, when he’d risked a glance to check. She rocketed through the oncoming horde as a furry, spiny ball, sending some Numemon flying before unfurling in the air to send out more electric, dangerous needles raining down over others, pinning them in place.

“Lightning Quills!” Paul shouted again, the pounding headaches all but reduced to a dull roar- more aptly, it felt as though he was conducting a current, rather than forcing it through his body to discharge into the ground beneath his feet. But even in the wake of his new revelation, his frustration mounted once more at their efforts and lack of progress.

“What are these guys’ deal, how are they still going at it?” Paul growled out, making a face at the slimy muck his fruit picker was coated in by then. Indeed, no matter how many Numemon or how far Paul whacked them away, no matter how many stinkers Herissmon sent flying now that she was actually trying to help, they never seemed to stay down for that long… nor was Paul given any reprieve as more Numemon leapt to take their place while they recovered. “They’re just slugs, for crying out loud- how are the Goblimon having such a hard time with them? How are we having such a hard time with them!?”

Herissmon turned to pull at one Numemon crawling up the side of the lemon bucket, ripping it free with her claws and hurling it into the commotion further beyond their troubles.

“Well, they might be some of the weakest Digimon I know of, but they are still Champion level- while the Goblimon, Coronamon, and I are all Rookies. And sticking together to build up their strength in numbers, they’re a lot smarter than I expected…” Herissmon considered, clawing away at more stinkers trying to infest Paul’s covered bucket full of delicious fruit. “But I’ve got no doubt a Champion level Digimon could be strong enough to overpower all of these guys, easy peasy.”

She turned her piercing blue eyes to Paul- there was an anticipation, a hunger in her eyes that had Paul rooted to the spot.

“So if you could help me Digivolve, it’d be a snap, right?”

What? Paul blinked back at her wordlessly, bafflement across his face on the road to giving way to something stronger as he put the pieces together. Herissmon rushed on, as though afraid he’d stop her.

“I could Digivolve to Champion level and take care of all the- all the stinkers bothering you, and be big and strong enough to protect you, and-”

Paul didn’t hear the rest of what the monster had to say. The utter revulsion roared through his ears and choked his throat, he couldn’t dignify the suggestion with a response, even if he wanted to.

Was this predator asking Paul to let it get even bigger? Even more dangerous?

There was no way. There was no way.

No way it could be asking him, no way could that ever be a good idea, no way he could ever, EVER let that happen.

Paul was suddenly keenly aware of the fruit rake in his hands, gripping even more tightly. He could solve the problem here and now, even. Take matters into his own hands. Grab Asher and book it for the hills once he’d done as much as he could to send it to the ground.

He shut his eyes, hissing as the cacophony of Numemon attack and Goblimon alarm returned to his ears. No, he had to think clearly about this. He needed to follow through with what he said he was going to do, first, before anything else.

Not dignifying the Herissmon with a response turned out to be the best course of action, as it turned out. Any effort put into answering those inane questions and outrageous offers would have detracted from his ability to concentrate on whacking the next stinker oozing towards him into next Sunday.

Herissmon seemed to get the hint, at least, going back to clawing away at Numemon in Paul’s peripheral vision. He could taste the newly familiar words bubbling up in his throat, as though he were still on the verge of belting out the creature’s words at any given moment- but none came, to his slight relief. He didn’t want to look at the monster slinking in and out of his view any longer than he had to.

The best course of action from this point, as far as Paul could gather, was to get to Asher. He was probably holed up with some other Goblimon in the barn across the field, if Coronamon’s fire show that he’d spotted nearby from across the way was any indication. He couldn’t heft the bucket up in his arms, if he wanted to keep his fruit picker to defend himself, nor did he have any rope of any kind to tie it and sling it over his back. After the briefest of moments taken to consider his options, Paul decided to roll the bucket of lemons in front of him, hoping the second bucket placed upside down over the open end would be enough protection from the stinkers if he could get it to the barn quick enough.

By the time he realized his mistake, disaster was already staring him in the face. The waves of Numemon surging in the same direction as he was were threatening to lift up the bucket of fruit he’d fought so hard to keep for himself and carry it away, now that it wasn’t within his immediate reach.

Paul choked out a yell of alarm, the cloying stench of the slug congregation not helping to keep things under control much. He lashed out his fruit picker to attack- and with a jolt, he realized the prongs of his reliable tool had hooked around the bucket handle. Both giving him a sturdy hold to keep the bucket from getting too far away, and as it would turn out, pulling him along forward as the Numemon carried it with them.

“Good work, Numemon Troop! Just a little further, now- come on, put some backbone into it! The Goblimon Village’s food supply will be ours!” One of the stinkers somewhere in the kerfuffle around him jeered out, that Paul belatedly realized might belong to a commanding officer of some sort to hunt down.

Looking around through the horde, however, Paul simply could not for the life of him pick out which of the Numemon it could have possibly been. No defining features to make any one of them stand out, and all were about the same size, too- in the amount of attention Paul could spare looking around from the chaos of the moment, they all looked exactly the same.

Paul would have been impressed by their method of protecting their leadership through camouflage amidst the common Numemon, if he believed that any of it had been intentional on the Numemons’ part in the first place.

He grunted as the force carrying the bucket of fruit away intensified, having to pick up the pace to keep from being dragged along. Casting a glance up ahead, Paul’s heart sank- the Numemon had already reached the decrepit barn up ahead, throwing turds and pounding at the large doors in their attempts to break inside. Asher and most of the Goblimon were out of sight, presumably either overtaken by the tide of garbage slimes and being trampled, or hiding away inside with the rest of the sanitary food.

There was no way Paul would be able to get inside himself, nor could he see any way to get the lemons he’d picked to safety indoors- not without letting all the Numemon pour in after him.

He’d come all this way for nothing.

“Paul?”

He screwed his eyes shut. He did not want to deal with this right now. No way was he letting the situation get any worse.

“Wait, Paul-” The monster’s false, innocuous voice raised in urgency, and Paul would have given a jolt at the claws tugging at his shirt if he could afford to.

“Not. Now. I need to focus on keeping my fruit from getting ruined, like I said I would,” Paul managed out through gritted teeth, digging his heels into the earth to try and slow it down. Maybe jerk it back when they weren’t expecting it, for the bucket to fly out of their hands- hands? Whatever they had-

“No, Paul, look! Back over there!” Herissmon cried, pointing with its savage claws back over toward the other side of the field.

“What!?” Paul snapped, turning his head to glower down at the monster before risking a glance over his shoulder.

Almost immediately, half the tension drained out of his shoulders as he recognized a familiar, imposing figure. “Oh, thank God.”

Ogremon came stomping out of the forest brush and over the scarred ruins of the farm fields, looking really, really upset.

He raised his studded, fearsome bone club, and let out a mighty, wild ROAR that sent the hairs on the back of Paul’s arms standing at end. The jeering, wild cries and cacophony of the Numemon fell silent with a shudder that seemed to reverberate through the lot of them in a tangible wave of dread.

“Shoulda known you stinkers‘d try something the second I turned my back,” Ogremon growled, shaking his bone club to gesture at them in emphasis. Aggressive. “This is MY home, and I’m not abouta let it get overrun by a bunch of turds who think they can take what they want from it.”

Ogremon opened up one palm, a mote of violet flame igniting in the center of it- before clenching his hand over it tightly, letting the fire engulf his fist as he glowered down at the horde of Numemon.

“You asked for it- Pummel Whack!”

He thrust his burning fist forward with a punch that could crack bones- and yet from the force, the fire ROARED out in a ghastly shape that Paul recognized to be Ogremon’s own face, its already frightening ferocity magnified tenfold. If the Goblimon’s fireballs Paul had seen fling about earlier that day were dangers to be wary of, then this dark blaze from Ogremon was another terror entirely.

The exaggerated, frightful bursts of energy Ogremon sent forth blasted through the swarms of Numemon like papier-mâché, earning a chorus of alarmed cries as they scattered and scampered away, like the most disgusting colony of rats Paul had ever seen.

Paul stood there, at a loss for words- just watching, enraptured. Just how powerful was Ogremon, really…?

“Numemon Troop, RETREEEAT!” Paul was jolted from his thoughts as the panicking horde surged past him in their hasty escape, sending him stumbling to the ground. He clapped his hands over the back of his head to protect it, well aware of the dangers of being trampled by a mob of fleeing people and remembering the need to keep his vulnerable head safe.

The cries and yelps of the escaping Numemon continued on for a few moments longer, accompanied by the blast of dark fire and the wet slap of slimy invertebrates hopping on and over Paul’s back where he remained hunkered down, each one sending shivers of disgust tingling down his spine. Eventually, the clamor died down, leaving Paul to take a much-needed moment to catch his breath- not that it helped much, considering the choking stench that still hung in the air.

He heard a pair of trudging, heavy footsteps approaching him once the noise dissipated, and Paul let himself hazard a peek from his position of safety.

After what felt like the longest afternoon of his life, the sight of Ogremon’s monstrous open jaws and face up close hardly even fazed him. The horned man himself was squatting low on his haunches, positioning himself closer to Paul’s current eye level.

“Need a hand?” he grunted, giving Paul his massive, gnarled palm to help him up- a far cry from the fit of aggression and fury Paul had just seen him caught up in the moment before. Paul took it, staggering to his feet.

“Things got pretty out of control really fast, when the, uh- the slug things started showing up. I didn’t really know what was going on, but Asher and the Goblimon I could see went to the barn while everything was happening.” Paul nodded his thanks, looking up to see Goblimon spilling out of the large barn doors as they reopened.

“I didn’t know you could do that, uh… thing, that you did. Really took care of the stinkers out there.” He mimed a punching motion, as though something were supposed to come out of it like those old-school fighting games. “Can all, ah- ‘Digimon’ do that?” Paul stumbled in his question, before masking a grimace.

The ridiculousness of the conversation was not, in fact, lost on him.

“Hm? Nah, that one’s an Ogremon Special,” the monster man chortled, clapping Paul on the shoulder with one meaty hand and waving to the Goblimon leaving the barn with his other. “A bit flashy for my taste, personally, but it gets the job done alright. Can’t say it ain’t fun showin’ off that Champion power every now and then either, though!” Ogremon laughed, flexing one of his large arms with wild, rugged muscle rippling underneath the green skin. Something about it held Paul’s attention for a moment longer, left rapt in awe of that ‘Champion’ power Ogremon seemed to possess.

“And ayy, lookit that! Looks like the Goblimon managed to keep most of the food stores we had safe and clean. This definitely calls for some celebration.”

Paul was struck, in that moment, that he’d been asked to do the same thing. He whipped his head around to look for the bucket of lemons he’d picked just a few moments ago, hoping to give proof that he’d done a good job despite the trouble all the same.

He spotted his bucket just a little ways away, to his relief- and to the stiffening of his back in apprehension, as well. It seemed to be lodged in between a couple stones forming the walkway around the larger field, with that familiar white-furred monster looking to be latched over half of the outer bucket’s open end.

Thankfully, Paul didn’t have to worry about the unnerving sense of the Herissmon’s awful blue eyes lingering on him, at least. It was either looking away, or its eyes were shut.

“I was picking some fruit earlier, too, got a whole bucket full of lemons before the whole mess started,” Paul mentioned to Ogremon, pointing out his treasure where it was stuck. “I put another bucket upside down over the open end to keep them safe, so they should still be fresh.”

Ogremon squinted in the direction Paul had pointed out, shielding his eyes with a hand.

“…That Herissmon over there? She don’t look too good, jeez…” He glanced to Paul, raising an eyebrow. “Not that I’m ungrateful you worked so hard, but… real touchin’ concern for your partner there, human.”

Paul’s hackles began to rise a bit, put off by the rude words. They weren’t-

“But hey, looks like things turned out alright, I’m glad they did.” Paul was interrupted by a heavy clap to the back, almost knocking the wind out of him for a moment. “You did great, Paul. Go get yourself cleaned up at the Data Stream to the east, and I’ll see you come dinner, yeah? Don’t take it personally, but you smell like shit.”

Ogremon chuckled, slinging his bone club over one shoulder and sauntering away to address the greater Goblimon crowds leaving the barn, cheers going up with Asher and Coronamon among their numbers.

Face burning, Paul hazarded a glance down to his apron-guarded work shirt- and his stomach rolled in revulsion at the splotches of pink filth and stains of sickly green slime spattered over his sleeves and sides… the parts left exposed, at least.

He looked away just as quickly, scrunching up his face in deep nausea and discomfort as the texture of wet through his shirt finally hit him with the force of a pummeling whack.

God, when would this nightmare end?

----------------------------------------

The feast laid out for dinner that evening was a welcome change of pace, at least.

What must have been every last table in Goblimon Village were laid out end to end lengthwise, forming a giant single table long enough to rival the tables it always felt like his family had to reserve in restaurants back when he was young. Goblimon after Goblimon sat on either side of the table as far down the seats as Paul could see, with loads of plates and dishes set between them all the way down the line. Most of them seemed to be full of the ‘Digimeats’ Paul had been skeptical of earlier, but cooked to admittedly delicious looking perfection- fried, roasted, grilled, a variety of different ways that had his mouth watering. The rest, however, were dishes and baskets full of familiar looking powdery confections, that Paul’s eyes drew to even quicker in disbelief.

“Oh, ‘course- we gots some Lemon Donut treats ‘ere for us to eat, too. Why else would we grow so many lemons, dey’re a real huge hit!” One of the Goblimon to his side answered when he asked, confirming his suspicions.

Paul LOVED lemon donuts. And he hadn’t had one since Sunday, earlier that week.

“We fended off the Numemon and kept our food safe- well done, Goblimon! We deserve a celebration!” Ogremon shouted from way down the table at the far end, voice full of pride. “Now LET’S EAT!”

Asher sat across the table from Paul, mouth agape and looking at all the food dishes in front of him, while Coronamon sat in the next seat over. Paul’s eyebrows furrowed as Coronamon sat up and leaned forward in his seat, scrambling among the Goblimon each trying to load up their plates the fastest- and setting a bad example for Asher.

“Table manners, Asher. Say grace first,” Paul warned, and Asher settled back in his seat for the time being, his excitement a bit muted. Even still, he bumped Coronamon’s shoulder before he did, whispering something in his ear- who in turn grinned wide, giving Asher a thumbs up. Asher smiled just as brightly, giving him a thumbs up right back before bowing his head.

Satisfied that Asher was finally following directions, Paul bowed his head himself to say grace himself. Almost as an afterthought, he made a quick extra prayer that he’d be home soon enough to change out of his dirty clothes.

The ‘Data Stream’ Ogremon had directed Paul after work earlier that afternoon was a little ways back into the forest, following a stream of water and odd, shifting, nebulous debris of some kind floating through it up to its source- one that had Paul pausing in surprise. The ‘water’ showered down from a disproportionately large sink faucet, of which it and the equally large sink basin it was attached to were laid overturned on their side, and down into a pool that poured out its water into the Stream proper. Paul’s discomfort and disgust with the clothes he’d been forced to remain wearing until that point won out over his confusion, however, and so he used it to wash his clothes- and wash himself, once he was certain he was alone.

To his relief, the pink filth had seemed to wash out of his shirt easily enough, though it took a few more rigorous attempts to excise the smell from it to his satisfaction, as well. The oily, slime-green stains down the lower half of his sleeves were another story altogether, though, stubbornly refusing to leave.

It was with dread that he concluded he’d need to find a washer somewhere to help get those out- good laundry detergent, stain removal, or something. Not something he was going to find out in the wilderness… So as a temporary solution, Paul decided rolling up his sleeves- both hiding the gross stains, and protecting his wrists and forearms from the awful texture- would be for the best.

Lifting his head from grace, Paul’s face fell into disdain and disappointment to see Asher already had his plate half full of meat and donuts alike, having disregarded his table manners and appearing rude to their kind hosts who’d invited them to dinner. Both he and that little stinker Coronamon were lunging forth from their seats to snatch legs of Digimeat away from the other Goblimon around them who were doing the same, laughing all the while.

Paul really didn’t want to have to tell the two of them off for their rude behavior, especially with the risk of them deciding to make a scene over it in response… and it would be better to teach Asher by setting a good example instead, anyhow. So that would be what he was going to do.

Steadying himself with a breath, Paul reached over to the plates in front of him to politely dish himself a few legs of Digimeat, seeming to glisten in fried perfection in the dimming evening light as dinner went on. The next dish over was empty, he noticed with a frown, but that wasn’t too big of a deal. He could just be polite using table manners and ask for more, if need be.

“Please pass the… donuts…?” Paul trailed off, looking back and forth over the dishes lining the table. Even in the commotion of brash, green arms and hands lunging for more of the food laid out to celebrate with, Paul thought he’d be able to spot the familiar white powder of lemon donuts still left somewhere on the table- but they were nowhere to be seen. The only donuts he could see were already stacked on other people’s plates, or being voraciously stuffed into Goblimon mouths, or half mangled in large green hands as some of them scuffled with each other amidst good natured shouting over who’d get them.

He’d… missed them. All the lemon donuts he could see had been taken before he’d gotten a chance to have one.

Paul breathed a long, heavy breath through his nose, his brows and mouth fixed in place as he tried not to look at Asher or Coronamon’s own plates. Needless to say, Paul was very, very upset.

A little nudge to Paul’s side came from his left.

Upon looking over and being met with the white monster’s terrifying visage once more, he didn’t jump or recoil in his seat despite the jolt of fear sent down his spine- something to be proud of, he knew. He was getting better at this.

From over where it was settled on the seat next to him, Herissmon held up a powdered lemon donut up to where Paul could see it. Eerie blue eyes trained on him, watching for a reaction. Taunting him.

“Hey Paul, do you like these kind of donuts? Here, you can have one of mine- I saw they were running out fast, so I made sure to get a couple extra to have before they were all gone,” she explained, kicking her deadly hind claws a little as she did so.

Paul was quiet for a moment. He’d have to be careful, he knew, keep his eyes on the beast as he tentatively reached for the donut in its claws. The predator could lash out and attack him at any moment as he got close, meaning Paul needed to be ready to whip his hand away and escape at the first sign of impotent danger. He reached further, carefully taking the side of the donut in a few fingers, lifting the treasure out of its blood-red claws…

…and brought it to his plate. Nothing happened.

Herissmon withdrew its arm without fanfare, once Paul had taken his prize. He turned back to his plate a bit quickly in his haste to break eye contact with the creature, and Herissmon did much the same. Neither of them spoke for a few long moments- which was fine with Paul, for one. He had nothing to say.

Herissmon cleared her throat.

Despite his better judgment, Paul listened.

“We… might have gotten off on the wrong foot,” Herissmon began, speaking to him even though they weren’t looking at each other. “It’s been a long day, and you’ve come here to the Digital World for the first time without knowing what Digimon are or anything about this place, so I understand that you’ve been… on edge, lately.” Paul let his eyes trail in her direction from where he sat, keeping her in his periphery.

“You’re confused and stuck somewhere far from home, I could have been a little more tactful introducing myself- no one’s at fault here, really,” Herissmon reasoned, picking at her food, and curling up her hind legs up to fold underneath her. “You didn’t ask for someone like me to pop into your life all of a sudden, talking about how we’re partners and that we have to go on an adventure together, just to get you home. It wasn’t right of me to… to assume you’d go along with it, without even asking or telling you about what it would be like.”

There was a bit of movement in the corner of Paul’s vision, of Herissmon lifting her head just slightly- but he couldn’t feel those eerie eyes on him. She must have been watching someone else, instead.

“But uh, anyway- I know I didn’t ask you before… so I’ll ask now, instead.” Herissmon’s eyes shifted back down to her lap, instead of looking forward. “Paul, I want to be partners with you. I can go with you and Asher, and help keep the both of you safe, since the Digital World can be dangerous- and I can tell you all about Digimon, or the Digital World, or anything you want to know, too… if I can stay with you.”

She’d been speaking in a clear, audible voice, but went a little softer as she trailed off. “I can help you and Asher get home, if you’ll… if you’ll have me. Um. …Please?”

There was that hunger in her voice again, that Paul had seen in her eyes before- but it was quieter, this time. Less expectant that it would be satiated the moment she asked.

The difference was almost enough to smooth over his ruffled composure, lowering his hackles just a touch.

Paul took a bite out of his donut without meaning to, absently wondering how the Goblimon had gotten the baking ingredients to make the actual donut part as he relished the flavor of lemon meringue.

Settled down enough to better think over his options, Paul honestly felt really, really annoyed by how close his own conclusions were to what Herissmon had been suggesting. Stuck and lost in a world with no way to call for help or emergency services, they really would need just about all the help they could get just to make it home.

He would prefer having someone as strong, capable, and reasonable as Ogremon to help take them home and protect them from danger- but even Paul knew it’d be a hard sell, getting someone to go with them for what sounded like at least a week going who knows where, or even longer. A week out of their own time, when they probably had their own business to do. Ogremon sure did, after all, it was more than clear… not to mention, Paul didn’t have anything he could give in exchange, even if he was open and willing to.

And here was someone just… offering. Offering to help him with the whole nine yards. The whole ordeal that Paul hardly even knew where to begin solving. Not even asking for anything in return, either.

That part Paul didn’t believe. There was always, always a catch, one that’d show its face sooner or later. Paul couldn’t fathom what the catch might be in this case, for this monster promising to help him get back home- but if he stayed ready for it, whatever ‘it’ may be…

Paul swallowed his bite of donut, setting it back down on his plate. Herissmon perked up in his periphery- he had her attention.

“I don’t trust you.” Paul's tone was forceful, one that prompted no argument. The white shape in the corner of his eye seemed to wilt a little, before he went on.

“But I’m willing to let you come with- if, and ONLY if, you listen to ME. And do what I TELL you to. And follow MY Rules,” Paul decided, turning to stare down at Herissmon and furrowing his brows to emphasize how serious he was.

He held out a hand for her to shake, held perfectly still.

“Deal?”

Herissmon looked back up at him, blue eyes wider than Paul had ever seen them. All the tension, all the energy of being poised to spring and attack at any moment seemed to drain out of her little predator body, as she took his hand with her paw.

“Deal. I will… I will,” she answered, shoulders slumping in deep relief. “I won’t let you down, Paul. Thank you.”

Paul only let the handshake sealing the deal last for a moment longer, before the apprehension of being so close to the predator set in again. He let go and withdrew with haste once he’d made that connection, but the monster on the other side of it didn’t seem to react to his sudden movement. In fact, she didn’t seem bothered by much of anything at all.

Even kept distant in Paul’s peripheral vision, Herissmon couldn’t seem to sit still for the rest of the night.

----------------------------------------

The high branches of the tall, digital treetops.

A passable vantage point, for the tall, dark figure settled among them.

All but hidden in the shadows the trees cast as night fell, they gazed down towards the long tables of Goblimon Village, and their feasting occupants. The celebration was even firelit, torches of Goblimon fire lining their tables as they gorged themselves, meaning they were all the more easily visible to any far off observer.

The figure’s sharp eyes drank in the scene, studying each detail closely before moving onto the next. The Goblimon, the plates of Digimeat, the Boss seated at the head of the long table, guzzling some drink from a mug befitting a proper Champion, the cheers that rose up when he slammed it back down on the table… and then, the observer’s eyes landed on a curious sight.

Further down the table, away from the commotion by Ogremon… sat a small, motley group. Two Digimon that weren’t Goblimon, and as could be plainly seen, each one was seated next to a human.

The figure watched the humans for a long moment- one seemed much taller than the other, yet the smaller one appeared wider. Both of their forearms were bare, meaning the shirts they wore either had short sleeves or long sleeves rolled up, with the taller one seeming to also have a long yellow cloth flapping down the middle of theirs.

Then, the Digimon- one with white and yellow fur, sharp jaws chomping down on their serving of Digimeat, fidgeting in their seat as they cast brief glances to the human next to them. The other with orange fur, metal garnishes over their wrists and around their head, fiery tail behind them lashing back and forth in excitement as they pointed something out to the smaller human beside them, laughing together.

The lurking figure stood up very quickly, off balance. They stood up to their full height, the motion concealed by the shadows of the tree canopy. Watching the celebration and its honored guests in particular for a moment longer, the figure’s lips curled up into a smile.

Found them.