I zoom in on the holographic map, three red harvest sites pulsing in a perfect triangle across Manhattan. My finger traces the lines until they converge on a single point.
"Right there," I mutter. "The old Riverside Pumping Station. Decommissioned in '87."
Gatomon leans forward, her blue eyes narrowing at the display. "The attacks are getting closer together. Hours apart now, not days. He's accelerating."
"He's getting bold," BlackGatomon adds, her tail flicking. "Or desperate. Either way, he's not hiding anymore."
I pull up the schematics. The pumping station is a fortress — one main entrance, two service tunnels, and a drainage outflow that feeds into the river. Limited exits. Chokepoints everywhere.
"This favors him," I say, more to myself than anyone. "He funnels people in, seals the beads, and harvests at his leisure. Classic ambush architecture."
The lab is quiet for a moment. Then I hear the soft sound of Jessica tying that blue sash around her waist. She's not wearing the pink wig anymore. Just her dark hair, pulled back, and that look in her eyes that says she's already made up her mind.
I turn to face her. "Jessica. You're not coming."
She doesn't flinch. "Yes, I am."
"This isn't a debate."
"Ethan." She stands, and I can see her hands are steady. That's what scares me. "Impmon knows Shaujinmon's patterns. His weaknesses. You need him. And I'm not sitting in this lab while you walk into a trap."
Impmon fidgets on the counter, his claws clicking against the metal. "She's right, you know. This whole thing IS a trap. Shaujinmon doesn't do anything without three backup plans. I've seen him operate. He'll have the station rigged, the beads charged, and at least two escape routes mapped."
I look at him. Then at Jessica. Then at Gatomon and BlackGatomon, who exchange a glance that says they already know how this ends.
"Fine," I say. "But you follow my lead. Both of you. If I say retreat, you retreat. No arguments. No heroics. Understood?"
Jessica nods. "Understood."
"Impmon?"
He grins, sharp and eager. "Wouldn't have it any other way, boss."
I turn back to the map and start assigning roles. "I'll confront Shaujinmon directly. Jessica, you evacuate any civilians he's got trapped and keep his attention split. Impmon — those sealing beads on his necklace. You know how to disrupt them?"
"Know how? I helped him CHARGE the stupid things back in the Digital World." Impmon's eyes gleam. "One good hit to the right bead and his whole containment matrix goes unstable."
"Good. Gatomon, BlackGatomon — you're with me. Support and containment. Cutemon stays on standby for healing."
Cutemon bounces once, ears flopping. "Got it, chu~!"
Jessica pulls the sash tight and looks at me. No wig. No costume armor. Just a girl with impossible strength and a promise to keep.
I feel something tighten in my chest. Not fear. Something worse.
Responsibility.
"Let's move," I say.
* * *
The flooded basement beneath the derelict water treatment plant reeks of stagnant water and rust. Dark liquid seeps from the tip of a crescent-bladed staff, coating the grimy concrete in a thin, shimmering film. Shaujinmon stands motionless, his tattered robes dripping, the nine beads of his necklace pulsing with a sickly green glow. One bead — the third from the left — is fractured, a hairline crack splitting its surface. Something behind it shifts. Presses. Hungry.
A ripple in the shadows. A golden bell chimes.
Jokermon materializes atop a corroded pipe, his purple coat swaying, his painted grin wide and unchanging. He crosses his legs, balancing on the rusted metal as though it were a throne.
"Lord of the Stagnant Depths," Jokermon says, his voice theatrical and light. "What a charming little sewer you've carved out for yourself."
Shaujinmon's eyes narrow. The water at his feet churns.
"You flatter me, Jokermon. I did not summon you here for pleasantries."
"Oh, I know why I'm here." Jokermon tilts his fool's hat, the star and moon catching the dim light. "The Chosen Child is tracking your harvest patterns. He's smart — smarter than you think. He'll converge on this location within the hour."
Shaujinmon's grip tightens on his staff. The dark water surges, climbing the walls in thin, grasping tendrils.
"The Chosen Child is a boy playing with powers he does not understand. His allies are weak. The spider, the girl, the Digimon — they are nothing."
Jokermon laughs. It echoes off the wet concrete, bouncing between the pipes.
"You keep saying that, Shaujinmon. But here's the thing about the Chosen Child — his strength doesn't come from his power. It comes from his bonds. Every person he fights for makes him stronger. Every Digimon that stands beside him multiplies his resolve." Jokermon leans forward, his grin never wavering. "You, on the other hand… you stand alone in a sewer. Harvesting misery from humans who can't even see you. Tell me — which one of you sounds weaker to me?"
Shaujinmon's jaw tightens. The fractured bead pulses brighter.
Silence stretches between them. Then Jokermon reaches into his coat and produces a small vial. Inside, something dark swirls — not liquid, not gas, but corrupted data, dense and writhing, pulled from the deepest networks of the Digital World's dark sectors.
"I brought you a gift," Jokermon says. "Corrupted data — refined, concentrated. Consume it, and your power will surge. The seals on your beads will weaken. You'll evolve beyond this… restrained state."
Shaujinmon stares at the vial. His reflection in the dark water shows a face he barely recognizes — gaunt, hungry, afraid.
"And the cost?" Shaujinmon asks.
"The cost?" Jokermon tilts his head. "The same cost as refusing. Defeat. The Chosen Child will find you, and he will break you. At least this way, you go down stronger. Isn't that what you want? Power? Recognition? A seat among the Demon Lords that isn't handed to you out of pity?"
The words land like stones. Shaujinmon's fingers tremble around the staff.
"If I consume this… I may lose myself. The thing inside the beads — it will take over."
"Perhaps," Jokermon says lightly. "Or perhaps you'll master it. Either way, you'll be magnificent."
Shaujinmon reaches out. Takes the vial. Holds it up to the light. The corrupted data writhes inside, whispering promises of dominion, of oceans drowning continents, of every river and lake bending to his will.
He drinks.
The effect is immediate. Dark energy explodes through his body, coursing along his veins like black lightning. His staff slams into the ground, and the water rises — not seeping now, but surging, climbing the walls, filling the basement with a freezing, suffocating flood. The beads on his necklace flare, one after another, and the fractured crack in the third bead widens. Something behind it pushes. Strains. A presence — ancient, wrathful, vast — presses against the seal like a beast against a cage door.
Shaujinmon gasps. His body arches. The water around him turns black, then a deep, bruised purple. The air temperature plummets. Frost spreads across the concrete.
Jokermon watches from his pipe, his painted grin unchanged. His eyes, though — his eyes are calculating. Cold.
Perfect, he thinks. Stronger. Unstable. Exactly what I need.
"Enjoy your power, Lord of the Stagnant Depths," Jokermon says softly. "You're going to need every drop of it."
He fades into the shadows, bells chiming once, leaving Shaujinmon alone with the rising water and the thing inside the beads that is no longer content to wait.
***
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