Disclaimer: Same as previous chapters.

Authors Note: I have used the correct canon names for all the parents of the Digi-Destined save for the ones who remained nameless by the creators of Digimon. For those I simply picked random names. Enjoy!

Chapter Three: Enemy

A flame flared unexpectedly, cutting shards into the fogging darkness, illuminating the gleaming cold face of its bearer. Flicking the lighter on and off, piercing hazel eyes skimmed through the documents placed orderly on his desk. With each page examined Akira Yamaura's frown deepened into a sharp line, drawing attention to an already obvious jagged scar. In a downward arc, a knife wound left the scar running from the top of his left eyebrow to the side of his cheek, projecting a dangerous aura. Some, more of the female variety, would say he looked damn sexy, but to Akira it had always been an annoyance. It crushed his valued anonymity, providing the contracted a memorable feature and so made it that much more difficult for him to do his job.

Not that it went unnoticed by his superiors. Fearing a possible desk job, Akira had been willing to do almost anything to stay in action. Fighting Digimon was not only his dream, but also his purpose in life. He did not know what he would do if it was taken away. It was unbearable to think about. So it was with relief when his superiors, instead of providing him with useless errands, announced his promotion to General and arranged for him to head the Japanese World Unification branch. And there he had exulted in his new position, thrilled at the chance to be in the middle of the battlefield at last. Everyone knew Japan was the place where it all began. The place where countless Digimon pierced through the barriers adjoining their world and caused endless chaos and destruction.

Nor was the sighting of variously aged children in the midst of this crisis ignored. Unbelievable, and yet these children owned Digimon. They had the means to annihilate the threat, but they never did. Instead defeat was their only solution and those Digimon were sent back whole and alive. Ready to attack again at a moment's notice. Fools. But children they were and Akira could not fault them for that. They held notions of peace and trusted others to do the same. Fortunately, or unfortunately for the World Unification, recent events have shown them to be a more formidable opponent. Their 'naïveté' obviously lost just as they had lost many of their friends.

Akira smiled grimly. That was the price of war. To try and maintain any sort of resistance against all nations of the world would cost them highly. Including the deaths of some of the 'Digi-Destined', as they were called. It was with regret whenever Akira thought back to their sacrifice. Lives lost for a fight that should not be. But regret was only a feeble emotion, and one that never lasted for more than a short period of time. He did not feel repentant for what he did.

It was quite ironic. Many countries have warred and been at odds at one time or another in the past with no hope of peace, no matter the needs of the people. But it was not until the Digimon came that the much sought after peace was finally possible. Every single country around the world had merged together in a front against a common enemy: Digital Monsters.

Digital Monsters. Digimon. What difference did it make if they were called either? No matter the name they would still be as deadly, still be out of control and would most certainly destroy humanity if given a chance. He knew first hand how terrifying they could be. Thus it was only logical that he should personally handle the interviews tomorrow. He did not trust any of his subordinates not to make a blunder but was confident enough of his own skills to be satisfied. It had taken many years to train him, but the outcome was faultless.

Glancing at his wristwatch, Akira made a quick decision. It was getting late, nearly midnight and if he wanted to be at his peak tomorrow then he needed a good night's rest. Akira stood up gracefully and stretched. Then he hunched over his desk and gathered up the masses of neatly arranged progress reports into one large pile. Reaching underneath the table, he grabbed a leather briefcase. He stuffed the pile in precisely and made his way out of the office, humming softly.

After locking his door, Akira strode briskly through the sterile hallway and past varying doors of many shapes and sizes. There were ones like his, secure and yet not unusual. Sturdy but not invincible and free for open use. And then there were ones like that. Enormous, heavily layered with titanium and steel, and bolt locked from the inside.

Briefly Akira considered dropping in, just to surprise the researchers and scientists. It had been getting a bit dull lately. A smirk graced his mouth. Nah.... He would just have to terrorise them later. Waiting just made it that much sweeter.

***

"Get out now!"

"Mr Yagami, I just have some questions -."

"No! I don't want to hear it. Whatever you have to say, say it to someone else. I will not have you in my house!"

Akira stood patiently, keeping his face expressionless. "I will say this one more time, Susumu. If you will not let me enter, I will have to use force." Eyes hardened as he stared at the furious face. "I will have to arrest you and your wife. No lawyer or judge can free you. You will be under the custody of the World Unification, with its own set of rules and restrictions. Not to mention, shall we say, their own unique way of 'questioning'."

He watched bemusedly as Susumu Yagami forced himself to move a step back and let him in. He always did like his job. Walking towards the burgundy sofa, he slowly scanned the room, taking in the differences from his last visit. Satisfied, he sat down and reached for the testor within his knee-length black coat. He withdrew a thin metallic object and flipped open the top. Coloured lines travelled across the dark screen, a set rhythm and pattern apparent as it began a faster movement.

"Mr Yagami, would you please have a seat." The irony of the statement was not lost on the elder Yagami it would seem, as Akira took in the terse lines and sudden tension.

"Answer my questions truthfully and I will not bother you again. For a while at least. I will talk to your wife later." Akira gave a small smile, widening it as Susumu Yagami unconsciously shuddered.

***

Humming under his breath, Akira skimmed through the contents of the testor. Moving lines accompanying miniature images indicated a wealth of information. From the increase or decrease of body temperatures to the beating of the heart to the increase in sweat or water fluids. What a neat gadget. It made things so much easier. Not that Akira needed any extra help. He could pick up most of the emotion emanating from the Yagamis by observing his movements. And he had plenty of time to acquaint himself with the way the Yagamis held themselves.

So it was not unexpected for Taichi Yagami to have had no contact with his parents. It had been at least a decade since he last communicated with them. Akira fumed silently. If the idiot who previously held Akira's position had been less of an idiot, then they could have gained important information on the Digi-Destined from their parents. If the contact between them had not been severed, surveillance devices could have been implanted and the World Unification could have gathered all the information they wanted. But the idiot just couldn't help himself. What the hell was he thinking arresting all of them so publicly? The Digi-Destined no doubt discovered what happened through the media and stopped all forms of physical contact.

Well, maybe not all. He still had more families to see, though he was doubtful they would have any more information. But then, he had never been much of an optimist.

***

"Ms Takaishi, are you sure you have had no contact with your son Takeru?" Akira asked again.

"Absolutely, Mr Yamaura." Her voice was cold. Edges of frost turned blue eyes into glaciers. "Takeru stopped talking to me the time you killed my son." If possible, her voice turned colder. Hatred leaked from every pore of her body. "I'm sure you remember. But in case you forgot, his name was Yamato!" She ended in a half shout. Grief and pain visible to the naked eye.

"Yes. I know his name. But if you recall, I was not present when your son died," Akira stated calmly. "If that is truly your answer then I will go."

Standing up efficiently, he snapped the testor shut and waited for the woman to regain her composure. He was used to these emotions being hurled towards him. How could he not be after all these years of making monthly reports? The families should be used to him. He had been a constant all these years during the fight against Digimon but he had also been the bearer of dreaded news.

Natsuko Takaishi quickly wiped her eyes, letting calm overtake her instinctive surge of anger.

"Goodbye, Ms Takaishi." Akira stepped away from the dining table, ambled towards the front door and left.

Natsuko remained seated. Motionless.

***

Akira slumped back onto the seat of his car. Exhausted physically and emotionally, he was extremely relieved he had only two more interviews. The Ichijoujis and Izumis. It was only fitting he visited them one after the other.

As expected, the Kidos and Tachikawas were a dead end. Ever since the idiot blundered their lead, no contact had been made. But reports still have to be processed, just in case one of the Digi-Destined became too lonely and attempted to reconnect with their broken families.

The Kidos had been overly cautious, and extremely hostile. It had taken Akira much coaxing and patience to just to reach the end of the meeting. By then his mask had begun to crack and he had fought hard to remain expressionless, blank. As with all interviews he would first ask baiting questions about the Digi-Destined, using many ways to exploit the emotive response he received. By taking away control and manipulating emotions to overwhelm, Akira found an effective method to interrogate. But without use of pain. For some reason, the Kidos were especially resistant to this method. They remained hostile and blank throughout the interview with only fleeting reactive responses to some of Akira's more blunt line of questioning.

Not so for the Tachikawas. Now they were the easiest to outmanoeuvre, to manipulate. Their emotions were already on the forefront, ready for the use of Akira. Concern for their daughter had driven them to be careless with the enemy. Not a sound strategic if Mimi Tachikawa were to reveal informative titbits to her parents. Regrettably, no matter how easily led they were, if Mimi chose not to remain in contact this advantage would remain latent.

Shaking off his weariness, Akira straightened his back and stretched his heavy limbs. Being fatigued was just a state of mind. Now if Akira could only change the state of his mind...Mockingly, Akira snorted at himself. He was definitely going soft.

***

Straightening the rumpled lines of his shirt, Akira mentally prepared himself to face the Izumis. His early exhaustion had taken him by surprised, which was why he was now painstakingly concealing all evidence of it. The thought was worrying. Perhaps he was getting old, his strength and mental capabilities fading like mists with the tide of time.

This, however, did not mean he was useless right now. Letting determination flow through his system, Akira elaborately smoothed his coat and began knocking politely on the door. He did not have to wait long.

Yoshie Izumi opened the door with a bright welcoming smile in place. Her posture was friendly and warm, a beacon for visitors to be drawn to. It vanished at the sight of this particular visitor. Perceptively her body stance immediately changed, stiffened into tight knots and lines. Warmth which had been present in lively eyes fled, leaving traces of steel in its tracks. The smile lost its welcome and became sharply edged, just on the verge of politeness. And nothing more.

Unaffected, Akira never lost his placate expression. He let veiled traces of ice gather but gave no indication of anger.

"Mrs Izumi." Akira finally spoke emotionlessly.

"Mr Yamaura." She answered, using the same tone. "Please. Come in." Despite the words, it was clear to both of them that he was not in any way or form welcomed into the household.

"Before I begin, may I look through your house?" Politely, Akira waited for permission, a response he did not in reality need.

"Of course. You didn't really have to ask me Mr Yamaura," a trace of anger seeped in, "After all, the World Unification does what it wants, doesn't it." It was not a question. Yoshie Izumi bit back the cutting mixture of anger and bitterness and made her way towards the kitchen, ignoring Akira.

Not one to be oblivious to signals, Akira's lips curled and he strolled towards Koushiro's bedroom. An area which he knew very well. In fact, the entire plan of the house was recorded in his brain, establishing possible escape routes and numerous hiding places.

Opening a plain wooden door revealed an ordinary room. More ordinary and bland than most bedrooms save for the highly sophisticated and left over technology. Neatly computer parts were stacked on a grey desk, unwhole and incomplete, waiting for unseen hands to skilfully put it back together. Shelves filled with books stood out as the massive and thick spines spoke of literature and psychology. The room was fit for a live-in genius. No bulky and fat layers of dust had settled on wide surfaces. Objects were arranged just as they were years ago. Everything was ready and prepared for the re-emergence of its ghostly occupant.

Proficiently delving through the room, Akira expectedly did not find anything. But as always, clues hinting at the mind of the opponent were extremely useful. Taichi was the heart, his leadership skills and unquestionable strength keeping the group whole and secure, but Ken and Koushiro were the head. It was they who created the weapons, breached the World Unification security systems and ruthlessly fought back using any means possible.

Making note of several titles from the extensive collection of books, Akira left the room. He decided, whilst turning around a corner, to have a quick glance at the entire house while he was at it. It never hurt to be cautious. And have a healthy dose of paranoia.

Striding into the dining once again, Akira grabbed a chair and sat down. He then proceeded to snap open the metallic device. It had not taken long to skim through the house. Nothing had been amiss and no changes had been made either other then a change of wallpaper and curtains. Instinct amiably agreed with his assessment and left Akira with only the questioning to complete.

"Mrs Izumi, shall we?" Akira spoke to the direction of the kitchen. He stared as she, hands shaking, put away some pots and moved to reach for a chair. She eventually seated herself some distance away and held her body taut.

Akira hid a smirk. He began.

***

Walking back towards his car, Akira could feel his exhaustion sliding off in rivets. The weariness clouding his mind seemed to evaporate, leaving him invigorated and refreshed. Boy did he like this job. It was only the difficult ones that troubled him. They blasted large irksome holes into his solidly structured patience giving him an overwhelming urge to...be physical. If only.

Leering happily at the fleeting images that produced, Akira opened the door to his car and prepared for one last visit.

The Ichijouji residence. A nice middle class suburban apartment. With a nice middle class married couple. Who owned nice practical fixtures. Who would have thought two infamous prodigies lived within these walls? Akira had always been fascinated with the Ichijoujis. As far as he could tell, they were a normal married couple with average intelligence. He had even traced their lineage and no unusually intelligent or slightly psychopathic ancestor turned up. How they managed to create not one but two geniuses baffled the mind.

***

Misako Ichijouji sat nervously in front of him, clasping and unclasping her hands. Her back was rim rod straight and remained at right angles to her knees. Kotaro Ichijouji sat next to her, no less tense.

Akira absorbed the brown and tan features in front of him. It always amazed him that such ordinary people could somehow manage to produce two extraordinary individuals. He stared at their curly brown hair and wondered how in the world Osamu and Ken Ichijouji inherited bluish-purple hair. He stared into nervous and frightened brown eyes and wondered how was it possible both had violet eyes. It was truly astonishing. Perhaps they were mutations, Akira mused. Lucky mutations.

"So Mr and Mrs Ichijouji, would you mind if we begin?"

They nodded.

"Do you know why your son ran away?" Akira kept his tone dispassionate.

Confusion marred the Ichijoujis' faces. They turned to look at each other in perplexity. Tentatively Kotaro Ichijouji twisted back to his original position facing Akira and asked, "You mean fighting against the WU?"

Akira shrugged noncommittally. "Perhaps."

Kotaro stared, puzzled, before a sudden sweep of anger flushed his face. "What are you implying, Yamaura?" he said through gritted teeth.

The threat underlined in each word did not go unnoticed. Akira's lips twitched. He raised an eyebrow. "Implying? What do you think I am implying?" Akira leaned backed, relaxed. "Perhaps I am implying that your son lied to you. Perhaps I am implying that your son is not part of the group resisting us," he paused, " that instead he has left home due to your...less than spectacular skills in parenting. Again." Akira purposely emphasised on the last word and waited.

"You...our son..." The elder Ichijouji sputtered, exploding rage blooming and flushing red upon his face. "You're lying! Ken hasn't run away! Just because of that one time...he was young, and we've made up for our mistakes," he trailed off.

He stood, body held defensively with fists clenching and unclenching. Teeth gritted again in obvious effort to control his fury. Misako Ichijouji stayed seated, her eyes stared accusingly at Akira. Glimmers of tears shone. Doubts were beginning to rise again. Good.

"If you please, Mr Ichijouji." Akira gestured for him to sit down again. "I would like to complete this before nightfall, if you will," Akira said sardonically.

Kotaro could only obey. There was nothing he could do. Yamaura held all the cards. He had the power to do what ever he wanted, including hurting both him and his wife. Despite his compulsion to protect his son and turn away those who sort to harm him, Kotaro had no choice but to abide by Yamaura's requirements. Not if he wanted to safeguard what remained of his family. He only wished Yamaura would stop taunting them with the past.

***

Hunching over, Akira temporarily skimmed through the reports he had just written and placed in a pile on top of his desk. Light reflected upon the bare and spartan room. A bed stood in one corner, opposite to where Akira was sitting, neat and orderly. No furniture was impractical. No eccentric object stood out to announce the personality of the dweller, save for the many lighters pushed haphazardly in one drawer. No pictures or photos sprawled about on the surface of his shelves and desk. No hint of emotion.

In the midst of editing one report, a loud beat eroded the silence and echoed the room, halting Akira's progress. Leaving his reports unattended, he strode towards his opened laptop lying on the surface of yet another desk, imparting waves of malevolence and menace.

An email had just arrived from the researchers. Gateway One was ready and set for use. Digi-Destined intervention were not expected. Computer experts confirmed no breach of security has taken place. Akira grinned in satisfaction. Finally. The war was going to end - with the World Unification as victor as it should be.

While opening the extra attachment sent along with the email, Akira reached for a lighter. His fingers inched for the familiar feel of its shape, the sense of calm and control it gave him. It was an eccentricity many knew. Amusingly enough, some of his subordinates assumed he was an arsonist, a pyromaniac. Akira never denied the rumours. It was much more entertaining striking fear into those who worked for him. Akira smirked cruelly. No one ever said he was a saint.

The attachment turned out to be a detailed statement on the Digi-Destined they had managed to capture several years ago. Because of her, Gateway One was possible and defeat for the Digi-Destined were imminent. Akira flicked the lighter on and off steadily as he read through the document, not for the first time wondering if he should check up on the captive sporadically. Coming to a decision at last, Akira made a note to address Jun Motomiya as soon as possible for an arranged 'meeting'.

***

Settling in the comfortable bed, Akira coordinated his limbs in a defensive positions and braced himself. He anticipated the next couple of days with relish, excited and thrilled beyond belief at the thought of the clash ahead.

But first, there was another battle to be fought. Akira braced himself. He gradually but reluctantly fell into a deep and uncomfortable oblivion. Muscles spasmed and stiffened. Waiting.

The dreams came.

Akira screamed.