Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Peregrine ❯ Vieux Carre' ( Chapter 1 )

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Vieux Carre': n.
1. French, meaning "Old Square"
2. The French Quarter of New Orleans, Louisiana

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"There is a house in New Orleans
They call 'The Rising Sun'.
Its been the ruin of many a poor girl
And me, oh God, I'm one."

The song played softly from the headphones wrapped through long blonde hair, from a compact disc purchased in a train stop earlier in his journey, in Charlotte, North Carolina. The sunshine and beaches there had not appealed to him, and a destination remained elusive until he saw the disc "Sounds of the South", featuring a scene of The French Quarter, packed on a weekend night full of tourists.

Perhaps it wasn't the promise of the bustling crowd, or the chance for the promised "endless party" a flyer mentioned, but the ancient qualities the buildings suggested. The stone and brick, decorated with wrought iron ivy across the rails of the upper stories were calm, despite the chaos beneath them. Even the greenery resting on the balconies, whether small trees or tropical flowers, seemed unaffected by the suggestion of revelry and noise below.

New Orleans.

He smiled, barely noting the name of the coastal town the train stopped in as it was announced. Wallace Ford picked his backpack from the storage rack it had been attached to, and stepped carefully into the aisle, dodging toddlers chased by concerned parents.

"Again, make sure your passes are available for luggage claim." The female voice interrupted the stray voices of the travelers. "Welcome to Mobile, Alabama. Enjoy your stay!"

Wallace disembarked, easily picking his way through the crowded terminal, pausing on brief occasion to watch loved ones greet each other with the appropriate hugs and kisses and kind words. His thoughts went to his mother, and immediately to the two greatest friends of his life, his twin Digital Partners, Terriermon and Lopmon.

They should be here to see this, but I'm sure they're living it up in the Digital World.

The mental image of the two romping through fields of golden flowers brought another smile to his face, a memory forming.

The wind carried a warm bite to it, but Wallace didn't notice. He ran through the field, chased by his Partners in an endless game of Catch. He paused as the wind turned a sudden bitter cold, glancing around through strands of blonde covering his eyes.

"Lopmon?"

The smile was gone, and the traveler turned his attention towards the stairs leading to the aqua shaded glass structure, framed in white. The Convention Center, while impressive to behold, was an ill-fitting addition to the downtown sector of the city, still graced by buildings standing since the early 1800's, to the original City Hall turned museum down the road, to the old Press Register building, being renovated for use as a new facility.

Wallace took all of this in as he walked aimlessly down the city blocks, taking pictures where the light was good, recording bits where the horns of cars were the most quiet. It was one particular place he seemed drawn to, a small cemetery behind the pale walls of the Downtown Public Library. The Church Street Cemetery stood, gates open, to invite visitors too young to know those who left their physical remains behind.

"Wow. Died at five years old, from Yellow Fever. Poor kid." He sat on the cracked stone bench, the corners of his mouth turning in the ghost of a frown.

"So, you talk to the dead very often?"

Wallace spun around, to be greeted by a girl his own age, dressed in wide-legged black pants, a black tank top adorned with a silver zipper up the front center, and rather large leather platform boots, also in black. She grinned at him, her face unnaturally pale under the white cosmetics she used.

"No, not often. They usually don't talk back," he replied calmly.

"Damn shame. I think they'd have plenty of good stories to share, don't you?" She extended her hand. "Name's Sera Le Noir. Yours, stranger?"

"Wallace. Wallace Ford. I'm visiting from New York." He peered at the odd girl cautiously.

"That much's obvious. You don't sound hick enough to be from a near state. Trust me. If you're from the area, you can tell who's from where. I'm from New Orleans, myself."

The blonde noted the change in expression behind the long threads of dyed black hair covering the violet eyes. He found himself wondering if the color was due to contacts, or natural, before chastising himself for moving too far. After all, she was a stranger, still.

"Hey Blondie. Come get coffee with me."

Sera took the traveler by the hand and pulled him off out of the solitude of the cemetery, and down the road a few blocked to the Krispy Kreme, one of the few still open in the country, and one of the earliest constructed. Wallace found himself treating his new friend to custard-filled sweetness and bitter day-old coffee, sweetened with much cream and sugar.

"Wow, you have Digital Partners too? I have one, but I sent him back, to keep him safe from my dad." With every mention of her sire, Wallace found himself increasingly concerned for the gothling beside him. From her consistent chatter he learned that she lived in a small apartment in a shadier area of the downtown region, having left New Orleans because of her father. Contact between her and her mother was nonexistent, as the suspected brute of a parent likely destroyed any correspondence between the two.

"I'm trying to save some money to go see my mom. She loved my Partner, ya know. Labramon had to leave because my dad didn't like him, the ol' bastard." The young woman gulped the last of her coffee. "I wanna see if I can find mom, if I get back there."

It only took a moment for him to decide.

"I'm heading to New Orleans. Why don't you come with me, my treat?"

In the next instant, he found cotton-clad arms around his neck, warm lips on his cheek. "I love you!! Thank you!!"

She backed away, returning to her seat with a snicker in response to Wallace's flushed cheeks. "Well, not in that way. I'm not that kind of girl, all rumors to the contrary.

"Should I be cursing my luck then?" He reached out with slender digits to move the stray hairs that covered the eyes shining before him.

"Oh, you are good." Sera grinned. "Keep it up, and you might not be cursing your luck. Then again," she paused, lips curling upward slightly, teeth showing in a predatory smirk, "You might after all. Depends on what you're into."

"I think you're moving somewhere that might not be good. What I have to propose is a working relationship." Wallace sat back on his stool, taking a sip of his coffee. "I'm going to pay you to be my guide in New Orleans. I'll pay for your needs while we're together, and if you want to come back here when I leave, I'll pay your way back."

The response was a simple shrug. "Sure, sure. I got ya, Blondie." Her eyes took a spark of amusement. "Or should I call you 'Boss'?"

"You can call me Wallace, since that's my name." The remaineder of his doughnut was consumed, washed down by the room temperature coffee. "Do you know what the good hotels are around here?"

"Um, there's the Hilton, or if you have money to blow, there's Adam's Mark or Radisson Admiral Semmes. They're pricey, especially if you get penthouses, but that goes without saying." Sera licked the center from her custard doughnut, elbows resting on the countertop.

"Then I'll book us at Adam's Mark." A cellular phone was produced; the number for information promptly dialed afterwards. The arrangements were quickly made, much to the surprise and delight of Wallace's new friend.

"That's gonna cost you an arm and a leg, ya know?! You can stay at my place!" Sera's hand rose to her mouth instinctively.

"I don't want to intrude, and from what I gather, you could probably use a stay elsewhere, right?" Icy eyes narrowed slightly at the ducking of the girl's head in response. "Then it's settled."

Despite her protests that the hotel was too expensive, or that she couldn't possibly accept such hospitality, Sera met Wallace at the specified location, in the lobby of the Adam's Mark hotel. All it took to reach the final destination was a short walk and an elevator ride to one of the upper stories, a room with two beds, and an accommodating bathroom.

Wallace immediately made his way to the shower, to wash away the weariness that joined him on his journey. Steaming water fell over his bare flesh as he spread the complementary shower gel across himself, reflecting on the letter from his uncle. There were several passages that struck him as odd. Pale sky blue soon was covered as he closed his eyes, bringing those words to the fore.

"As you read this, please keep in mind that I have your best interests at heart. In doing so, you give life to what might have lost that spark. There is a small fire, deep in the darkness, that you can kindle into a roaring fire, by following this path I have opened to you. Make sure that you succeed!"

The words bounced around his mind as a solitary thought, with nothing to interrupt the flow of emotions it brought.

'Small fire, deep in the darkness'? What does he mean? Gotta be something philosophical. Bleh.

Once he was sufficiently rid himself of all suds and remaining dirt, he stepped from the shower, toweling his dripping hair cautiously to avoid tangles. He released an exclamation of relief under his breath at the fact that his clothes had not fallen off of the toilet seat into any piles of water that might have condensed on the tile floor.

The mere seconds it took to slide the white cotton briefs over his damp rear were enough to have Wallace lapsed back into deep thought. He regarded himself in the mirror, color drained from pale flesh by the florescent lighting masked by plastic in some elongated floral shape. The only color to be strikingly reflected at him was the same brilliant cornflower he used to review his features. His blonde hair had darkened none since his youth, and reflected a near-platinum under the harsh illumination as it fell to his shoulders.

Fire. Darkness. Damn! Maybe she'll show me something I can send back to my uncle, once we hit New Orleans.

There was the other thought that disturbed him, but he pushed it aside. Why doubt the man paying for him to travel the world, after all?

Wallace emerged from the steam-filled bathroom fully clothed, and refreshed. Darkness permeated the area, save for the severe glow of a laptop computer highlighting the features of his guest. The monochrome illusion about her carried a surrealism that blocked the observer from creating any noise to disturb Sera as she typed. The shadows poured behind her in the form of torn and tattered wings; light reflected from the shiny black tresses formed a halo around her crown.

He wasn't annoyed that Sera took it upon herself to hook up his laptop, only curious that she apparently seemed to be using it with a degree of skill he hadn't seen outside of a computer programmer. The approach was silent and slow, until he stepped on a fallen sheet of stationary.

The crunch of the footfall on paper had Sera pivoting on the seat, windows immediately closed with the pressing of a simple function key. She rose fluidly to greet Wallace, slender fingers wrapping around his wrists.

"I was checking the bus times, unless you want to take the train." She smiled sweetly. "You know, I never did properly thank you."

Her advance was stopped by the simple pressing of Wallace's finger to her lips.

"You've thanked me enough. You don't owe me anymore, not unless you mean it." He pulled away with a shake of his head. "Good night, Sera."

Wallace did not stay alone under the covers for very long before he found a figure insisting on being held. "Of course I don't mean it. That doesn't mean I don't want it anyway," cooed the low female voice. The young man flinched, even as warm lips touched his.

Great. This time I'm the one on the other end. He gently pushed Sera away.

"No. We've just met today, and I'm not going to use you just because you're here." Gentle fingers brushed the black hair away from Sera's cheek. "I think you're used to expecting that, aren't you?"

Surprise was not the expression the traveler expected to see on his new associate's face, yet it was surprise that answered him.

"I....kinda," she replied, backing away to sit. "Oh, I'm sorry. I just thought....you're right, I guess I do expect it." Wallace's hand rest on her shoulder, which she brushed off. "No, don't do that....just....I dunno. Good night, Wallace."

He regarded her as the figure retreated for the opposing bed.

"Good night, Sera."

Morning found Wallace waking to the sounds of the shower pouring from the bathroom. He pried himself from his languorous state to greet the sunlight streaming in broken fragments through the eggshell blinds.

The wait for the bathroom to practice his morning hygienic ritual was relatively short, and after packing and a brief breakfast, the duo found themselves on a chartered shuttle towards New Orleans. Sera chatted amicably about various historic and cultural locations, from the casinos in Biloxi and Gulfport, Mississippi to comments on the view of Lake Pontchartrain.

The driver left the pair in front of the world famous Cafe du' Monde. It was with great enthusiasm that Sera sat Wallace down for his first beignet and tall glass of iced chicory coffee. The pasty itself was nothing more than a puffed square of dough, nearly hollow in the center, and covered with a grand quantity of powdered sugar. The coffee that accompanied it had a warm flavor, strongly infused of the roasted root brewed with the ground coffee beans. The sugar combined with caffeine did wonders for shaking the road-weariness of the two hour drive from the travelers.

"I need to find the computer that has my family records on it, so I can get the proof I need and lock that asshole up." Sera made the comment.

"Hey, now. Watch the language. This is holy ground, you know." Wallace grinned at her, gesturing towards the St. Louis Cathedral across the distance of Jackson Square. The two walked slowly, the man's arm held firmly by the darkly clothed teen. Wrought iron separated the park at the innermost part of the square from the peddlers alongside of it, offering portraits or tarot readings for donations in the sum of ten to twenty dollars.

"See there, to the left of the Cathedral?" A slender arm reached in the direction of the alabaster construction, past its four stories, to the immediate left. "That's the Cabildo, where the Spanish Council met, way back when. It was the City Hall, and now it's a museum. Napoleon's death mask is there, too. I should show you, when our business is done." She pulled the blonde's attention to the opposite side she originally indicated. "There, on the right. That's the Presbytere, where the priests lived. Now it's part of the Louisiana State Museum Complex.....what are you doing? Haha, such a tourist!"

Wallace made a face at the girl, even as he videotaped her. "Hey, I'm paying. I'm entitled to be touristy if I want."

"Indeed you are, good sir." The raven ponytail flipped over Sera's head as she made a show of bowing to her employer. "So, where else do you want to go?"

"Well, you wanted to find your mother? You said your family records were on a computer in town, right?"

"Yeah, there's a database, but I think I need to find my old house first. I just wanna make sure they're still around, ya know?"

Wallace nodded once, offering his hand. "Well, lead the way."

"It's on Conti, near Burgundy. We'll have to pass through Bourbon Street to get there, so hang close to me." Sera took a tight grip on the offered extension, fingers twining with his. With her free hand, she indicated a location across the Square. "That's Jax Brewery. We'll go up that way, into the French Quarter."

The afternoon was already turning into nightfall after stopping for a snack on Chantres, before the duo continued the trek through the French Quarter. Wallace felt inclined to stop multiple time to video tape the upper floors of the buildings, with the wrought iron railings he recalled admiring on the cover of the compact disc purchased the day before. It was exactly as the cover portrayed, with the ivy creeping along the ironwork, smaller trees framing the open windows.

"Hey, you're staring at plants!" Jet hair swished behind the girl as she laughed, her voice carrying insincere mockery.

"No, that's why I wanted to come here. They're peaceful, you know." Wallace turned his attention from his companion to the greenery once more. "They're above all the chaos below, and they're not alone. They have each other."

"Humans are solitary creatures." Amethyst eyes watched the male through dark lashes. "They seek companionship, but they all die alone. There's that one brief moment when one is bound to the other, but it never lasts." Wallace stiffened at the pressing of the warm figure to his back, arms sliding around. "Silly creatures. You know it as well as I do. This is what it is to be human. You hide behind pretense and personality, pretending to be anything but yourself, because that is what society tells you to be." She let go suddenly, as though caught in the act of murder.

"Sera....? It's not like that at all. True, there are rules, and yes, we restrain ourselves for the sake of those rules, but that doesn't mean there is a constant barrier. The barrier breaks when one person understand the other completely." With one reaching grasp, he held her slender palm against his once more, digits crossing with his companion's. "Now let's go find your folks, okay?"

The female made no response of agreement or disagreement, only tightened her hold on her friend's hand and led him farther down Chantres, taking a turn on Toulousse, past Royal Street, and on to Bourbon Street, where the crowd of tourist revellers had only started to gather. The hands remained tightly joined, to avoid being separated by the growing crowd, already lively as the alcohol flowed freely.

In only two blocks' distance, Conti was approached, and the travelers turned towards the right, heading down a few blocks until they were less than three houses from Burgundy. Sera disentangled her hand from Wallace's, approaching one boarded door.

"No one live 'dere, cherie." An elderly lady spoke from her upper story. "I seen what happen t'them tho. Ya'll wait dere a sec."

Sera stood a few feet away from the door, approaching the elderly Creole lady who took a seat on the neighboring front doorstep. "You saw what happened to the family?"

"'Course. I seen everyt'ing happen here. The man, he was a real bastard, he was. Beat his lady to where she was bleedin' bad. Hah, but she have de life in her still. Shot him in the head, for what he done to her and to they little girl." The woman shook her head. "My my....lil' chile much better, away from him, tho it's so sad. Cryin' shame, really."

"Ah...." Strong arms pulled her backwards, to steady the shaking Sera didn't notice creeping into her posture. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You know de family, chile? You look familiar...." The neighbor removed her glasses to clean them.

"I knew them. No, you've never seen me, but thank you. Wallace, let's go back to the Square, okay?" She did not wait for his assent, only turned and fled, feet carrying her at a fast walking pace.

"Hey, wait up, Sera!" Wallace chased her down, pulling her back into his embrace. "No, you're going to stop. Shh." He held the shaking figure close. "Does it upset you that badly? He can't hurt you now."

"She didn't remember me. I don't know what I was thinking, looking for remnants of a life I've never lived...." Broken words were mumbled into the Ford's shoulder, the terms barely understood, where the meaning was not at all. "I need to get into that house, Wallace!" Her tear-streaked face turned to him, wide-eyed. "I mean....it's not important. Come on, let's go get a drink."

All the young wanderer could do was nod and follow his guide back towards Bourbon Street, apologizing to a Hispanic tourist as he pushed into her. Sera was a few feet ahead, which prevented him from making his usual comments as he normally would to a beautiful young woman, or man if he felt so inclined. In this case, he could only spare the attention for one individual.

She's confusing. What could be in that house that hasn't already been cleaned out? Wallace mused to himself, watching Sera with caution. So intent he was on watching her, he did not notice the grey suited figure grab him and pull him into the alley leading to one of the souvenier shops.

"You will remain still if you wish to live. Why are you assisting a known virus-type?" Wallace looked directly into mirrored sunglasses. The figure was a man of an undetermined age, skin an unnaturally pale shade. Perhaps it was the dim light, but Wallace was positive his captor's skin was a shade of blue, like the blue-white pallor associated with the deceased.

"What? You mean Sera? Virus-type?" The confusion evident in the sky-hued gaze was enough to cause the pale figure to release his hold.

"Sera. A clever name. She never told you what it was short for, did she?" The man continued as Wallace shook his head to indicate that Sera had indeed not revealed that portion of her name. "Sera. Seraphine, as in referring to angels. 'Le Noir' means "The Black". Black Angel."

Another figure, clad in the identical slate grey suit, appeared in the alley. "I've lost her. I think she's going after the the First Key, sir." He flinched at the expletive uttered by his partner.

"Are you saying that Sera used me to get to New Orleans?" Wallace stood slowly, eyeing the two.

"She was programmed only with a detailed map of Vieux Carre', the French Quarter here in New Orleans. When she appeared in Mobile, Alabama, she was left clueless on how to find her way here. You, being one Chosen," The figure reached to touch the older Digivice at Wallace's hip, "Would be the only one her programming would allow to remove her from the area she spawned in. We waited here for her, and now you've brought her to us. Well done."

"What is this 'First Key'?" Wallace tucked a stray section of blonde back behind one ear. "Why do you want it so badly?"

Both men twitched, eyeing each other. "We can't tell you. No one can tell you. Just know that whoever holds all of the keys also holds a very dangerous weapon."

"Then we need to stop her!" The young man pushed past the two, and through the crowd of tourists to cross Bourbon Street, heading back to Conti, the agents at his heels. He made it as far as the house where the elderly Creole woman lived, only to find her laying on the doorstep, a burned scar across her throat and jawline.

Sera....did you kill her? The formerly boarded door stood wide open, almost inviting the determined hunter to enter. Wallace stepped inside, sneakers creating a soft echo on the hardwood floors beneath them with every footfall. Above, from the stairwell, a faint light flowed down into the darkness saturating the bottom floor.

Step by step, he slowly worked his way upwards to the top floor, the unfriendly light growing bolder as he approached. Around the corner on the inside balcony, a ladder extended into the attic floor.

For Wallace, there was no hesitation. He climbed upwards, greeted by the sight of Sera standing before a lit monitor.

"Wallace, you came! You need to send me to the Digital World. I can't open the portal by myself!" She ran to him, taking his hands.

"Why not? You have a Digivice, don't you?" A faint smirk touched his lips. "Unless those creeps were right. You're not human, are you....?"

"No, I'm not. Listen, you can't trust them. They want the Keys for their Master. They killed that old....move!" The girl pushed Wallace to the ground, a tentacle wrapped around her neck.

Wallace turned towards the source. The appendage came from the blue figure, eyes glowing from behind the reflective surface of his sunglasses. "Thanks, kid. You led us right to the Key. Pretty smart of the old Guardian, to hide them inside Digimon and send them here." He sneered in Wallace's direction. "LadyDevimon here will be coming with us. You're going to die here, worthless human."

"Go...to HELL!" The girl spat the words out from behind her friend, venom laced with anger in her voice.

A leathery red-tipped claw shot past Wallace, towards Sera's attacker. The tentacles disengaged, as the suited figure merely pushed his partner in the way. The shocked man merely dissolved into dust as the clawed fingers punctured his torso.

"You missed." Blue flesh slid to a grey tone, elongating as the form began to tear through the fabric of the suit.

"Not this time, Dragomon...." The transformation was interrupted as that clawed hand imbedded itself in the tentacled attacker's forehead, tearing gashes down from skull to chest. Fluid seeped from the wounds, splattering the area as the claws were removed

"Impossible....I was assured that....I'd lose nothing in the....process." The monsterous figure fell to his knees, also dissolving into dust the way his associate had moments earlier.

"You were lied to. We all were." Sera crashed to the dusty floor, her form slowly growing and filling out to a more mature shape, the jet color of her hair replaced by a rich silver shade.

Wallace scurried to her side quickly, dropping to pull the now leather-masked head to his lap.

"It's true. You are what he said you were." He looked to the glowing red behind the eyeholes cut into the mask. "Why would you save me? From what the others told me in email, you worked for the bad guys."

"Appearances are deceiving. Programming can be changed. People can change." One leather wrapped hand reached to gently touch the smooth skin on the young man's face. "I had a Partner once, but she's dead now. Her responsibility falls to you. Protect the Keys. Make sure the Fire isn't consumed by Darkness."

"What is the Fire in the Darkness? I don't understand? What Key?!" Wallace held the hand to his cheek. "Why was I chosen for this? The others have more experience than I do."

"The City of Sin is where to find the next....." The words were silenced with a dissolution into dust, scattered into the nothingness it was created from.

Floating before Wallace was a glowing keycard, the code covering it glowing for a second before the item fell into the blonde's waiting hand. A shrill note rose firm the device at his hip, growing louder as Wallace removed it. With a sudden burning burst of light, the coded Key attached itself to the Digivice, causing the item to change form, until it took a shape he had only seen in the possession of a few others.

A D-3. It's like Daisuke's.

The remaineder of the evening was a blur; the hours spent until the wee hours of the morning were at the boardwalk overlooking the Mississippi River near Jackson Square. Tugboats and other various vessels waited at silent docks, as the water remained undisturbed but for the occasional ocean breeze.

Wallace mused over the events of the evening. Only one thought occurred to him, as he made his decision.

I will find the next Key, and the Fire in the Darkness.

The determination finally allowed him peace of mind enough to find a suitable hotel to finally allow himself to rest. In no way could he have known his actions were being carefully monitored.

"He's the one. I saw the First Key merge with his Digivice. Do we take the Key now, or allow him to find the others?" Binoculars lowered from sable eyes, turning towards her commander.

"We'll let him do the work for us. Prepare the watch, so that we can know the moment he leaves town." The spectacled individual did not look away from his laptop monitor, only added notes to his work.

"Aye, sir. As you command." The female officer turned towards her right, where her own laptop awaited, to type in the command given to her. "All is in readiness, sir. The Beta Team awaits your future orders."

"Very good." The older commander regarded his younger inferior. It had only been a year that she was rescued from the attack that left her orphaned. Within that year, she had become a capable agent, firmly believing that the course of action would benefit both worlds she was chosen to protect. His charge never complained about missing her hometown in Mexico, though it would be evident, when it was mentioned.

"Sir? Am I forgetting anything?" Her faintly accented words carried a touch of concern.

"No, everything is fine. You're doing well." The older man closed his laptop with a light click.

"Very well, sir. Shall we call it a night?" It was all that indicated she was tired from chasing the Ford boy and the strays that evening.

"Yes, set up the night watch, and go get some rest." The commander stood after setting his computer back into the convenient carrying case, slipping the strap across his wide shoulders. "You've earned it, Rosa."

End Chapter One.