Fear and Loathing

A slender, black form glides across the mirror-like surfaces of every window it passes, too fast for the naked eye to detect. His movements are equal to the shadows themselves, always one step ahead of his prey, simply waiting for them to fall into his intricately hidden web of deceit. Halogen lights and flashing neon signs, products of human arrogance at its apex, mask Devimon's presence completely, yet another example of just how closely the heart of evil could resonate within one's environment.

The fallen Digimon bares a malevolent smile, he recognizes a disturbance close to his quarry, able to discern the presence as a Digimon yet simultaneously fascinated by how... erratic its data was. As though it had been tampered with. Was it a result of his soon-to-be-victim's exquisite anger boiling within? Or were more insidious methods applied to achieve this state? One way or another, he would get a taste of this power for himself.

Another, more forceful pulse of evil energy bursts from Devimon to cause the entire street's electrical systems to go haywire, sending the traffic lights into a blinking frenzy of reds, yellows and greens while street lamps and digital signage flickered and fizzled with chaotic static. The Scramble Crossing had been reduced to a complete technological standstill, one that would certainly make headlines due to how renowned and well-traveled the area was.

Then, instant blackness grabs hold of Shibuya. The sounds of panic erupt from all sides as people scramble frantically to find cover from the sudden outage, unsure of what was going on or why it was happening to begin with. It was all part of Devimon's master plan, for even he could accurately surmise that direct confrontation would be an unwise course of action to take.

Like any true hunter, the first step was always to confuse and disorient his prey, make it impossible for him to gather his bearings long enough to react accordingly. Not even the moon in the sky could cast enough light to penetrate the cityscape, now washed over in melancholic shades of blue and grey as the hurried shouts of the public began to die down. It was only a matter of time before the emergency backup power would kick on, but it was all Devimon needed.

Ha ha ha ha ha...

Devimon is nowhere to be seen, though his voice carries on the wind like a virus to be transmitted, burrowing its way into the ears and mind as the worm wriggles and crawls through the mud. It grates like nails on a chalkboard, penetrates like sharpened claws attempting to dig into flesh.


His target draws nearer. Devimon can taste the man's fury rising, threatening to burst at any moment. Good. Follow the golden thread like the angry little hornet you are, for soon you, your partner, and your rage will make a most delectable meal.

devimon's HP: 900 | daichi kumo's hp: 600 | subject rho's hp: 500 

DAICHI KUMO

A third and final pulse of malign energy, one far less forceful than the last but significantly broader in its overall range, seemingly bled from the center of the Scramble Crossing, radiating out as a pearlescent, shifting bubble of sheer black. Perhaps an extra layer of fear was needed to convince this fool who he was dealing with, Devimon surmised, using this newest demonstration to blanket the area in an anti-sonic field, reducing the screams of the terrified civilians to something the fallen Digimon knew would be far worse on his prey's senses: complete silence.

It wouldn't last long, much like the blackout he had just caused, but that was the point: Devimon needed to make his presence known in the most direct way possible, theatrical as it might have appeared to this angry little hot pocket, whose fury seethed and bubbled beneath his skin like rivers of molten rock and metal, nearly ready to erupt with uncontrollable wrath.

The negation of all sound causes many fascinating things to occur in humans. Loss of speech comprehension. Difficulties in noise discrimination. Attenuated vocal patterns. Pressure within the ears. But sometimes, a few of these symptoms grow to become more debilitating, especially if they are brought about suddenly and without warning. Those kinds of effects were Devimon's favorite ones.



——Tinnitus, a 'hissing' or 'ringing' in the ears. Vertigo. Disequlibrium. Tympanophonia, the abnormal perception of one's own created sounds and respirations. All of these, and more, were there to create a cocktail of terror specifically designed to prey on the human mind's basest, most primitive fears. The fight or flight instinct was a powerful tool, and one that Devimon's victim seemingly knew well of if he hadn't been already deterred by his threat display.

But fear is like shadow: always present wherever one goes, clinging effortlessly to the form without surrendering itself to pointless ideals or trivialities. Two tigers, circling each other fiercely, one stalked by the darkness, and the other, darkness itself. Not even the likes of his pitiful excuse for a Digimon, if it was even considered one at this point, would be enough to keep the Devil away for long.

No matter where Daichi Kumo goes, he is never far behind. He is the specter of past, that which haunts his every waking moment spent sober and aware of himself, the issues, the problems he desperately tries to hide beneath his self-created fortress of muscle and bone.

They threaten to rise up when he least expects it--just as Devimon's horns begin to protrude from his target's black umbra, followed by the rest of his slender frame--when the human's guard is at his absolute lowest. The fallen angel seems to merge with Daichi's very shadow as though he were part of it. As though he was.

Devimon lunges for the human's throat--

--as he does, Shibuya's emergency backup generators kick into power, and the scene explodes with a blinding flash of lights and sounds from all over, as the fallen creature had foreseen in his great plan.

Distract and confuse, that was the primary objective for now. There was no physical element to Devimon's initial attack, for it had all been a part of an elaborate psychological set-up, a ruse to open combat with his first of many treacherous techniques, one meant entirely to keep his foe planted right where he wanted him to be.

Whether the attack succeeded was another story, but Devimon was nowhere to be found after its execution, having never actually been there to begin with.

His harrowing cackle echoes within the shifting chaos that reigns throughout the streets of Shibuya.

Hehehehehe...

devimon's HP: 900 | daichi kumo's hp: 600 | subject rho's hp: 500 

DAICHI KUMO