Welcome to Plasma Grid

 

(Iori’s POV.)

Iori, Ken, and Daisuke followed BlackVeemon into the village. From a distance it had appeared small, even isolated, but it was in fact the size of one of Tokyo’s districts. There was one difference, though.

Tokyo had different cultures and different peoples of different religions and different colors; Plasma Grid had one color: Black. One type: Viral. Thousands of Digimon. Iori’s jaw dropped. He’d heard of racism before, but…

“This… is us,” BlackVeemon said sadly. “Welcome to Plasma Grid. Home of the Black Viral.”

Across the street, a fistfight broke out. Even when massive fireballs and arcs of electricity shot between the fighters, nobody stopped to help; indeed, few even pretended to notice. Most Digimon kept about their business.

The businesses were everywhere. Signs and banners proclaimed all sorts of goods and services. Outdoor tents and stores tried to sell items of clothing, food, and weapons.

“Do you still use Digi-dollars?” Ken asked.

BlackVeemon looked at him. “We don’t have money. We trade. Most make food. Some make clothing and tools. Others teach classes on Digivolution and battling. But no money.”

BlackVeemon paused. “There is a currency, though, if you will. Some of the females-”

He sighed. “-And some of the males, too, sell themselves for food or clothing.”

“Sex is your currency?” Daisuke asked.

BlackVeemon nodded solemnly. Daisuke wanted to ask BlackVeemon if he had a lot of “money” but he bit his tongue. BlackVeemon continued walking again, and the Chosen followed him, not knowing what to say, wondering if silence would be best. They watched in awe as the busy world bustled around them.

Iori looked around. There were no roads, but really wide sidewalks separating the rows of buildings. The buildings looked decent enough for a community with no money; they seemed to remind him of the Entertainment District of Tokyo: whitewashed buildings made of plaster, good enough for keeping the heat out or in. Paint was chipping off here and there, while there was lots- LOTS- of graffiti. Signs and posters were everywhere, most were propaganda of some sort; signs like “Fight the future” and “Support your kind” littered the walks and fences. Garbage was found in the gutters, the corners of buildings, and pretty much everywhere else, though no one seemed to notice or even care.

Most of the windows were boarded up with planks of wood, some looked like party rooms like back home in Tokyo. Love motels. Bars. Strip joints, with neon lights crying “Sex!” and “Live Nudes!” and “Free fun!” Iori shuddered, feeling his hormones crying for attention. He’d seen streets like this, between his house and the nearest theatre back home, but he’d never considered them before.

He realized belatedly that they were more likely to be Digimon Strippers.

BlackVeemon looked at the fifteen-year-old, followed his gaze, and blushed slightly. “You… uh… get kind of lonely here. No one really ever falls in love, the male to female ratio is around six to one.” He chuckled. “Sad, isn’t it?”

Iori nodded, then asked his own question. “Why don’t you ever leave… uh-”

“‘Plasma Grid?’ Nobody ever wants us in the other towns. We have a reputation, as you can see,” he answered, waving his hand at the many bars and joints along the row.

BlackVeemon walked up to a food vendor and bought some hotdogs; he gave no sign, no communication, and no money whatsoever.

“How did you pay for these?” Daisuke asked between bites.

“He knows me.” BlackVeemon left it at that.

It seemed to Iori that BlackVeemon had grown considerably. He still had the same voice, but talked in a more mature fashion. He was uncensored, broken, almost traumatized, but he took it all in a stride.

Ken finished his hotdog first, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and asked, “Where’s Wormmon- I mean, BlackWormmon?”

“He’s working late tonight, him and BlackArmadimon. But their shift ends soon enough, I think. You want to see them?”

The Chosen looked at each other. “Uh, why wouldn’t we?”

BlackVeemon looked up the street and pointed at one of the building they had passed earlier. The kids followed his gaze.

“The Plasma Experience?” they echoed in unison. BlackVeemon nodded slowly, a slight grin on his face.

“What?” Daisuke asked, before thinking it over. “Oh. Ohhh.” He nodded.

“They’ll be done soon. Come on, might as well see us for what we really are.”

They walked back up the street, a nervous air between them all. BlackVeemon led them down the stairs, but the BlackTaomon guarding the door stopped them. He asked something in Digitese; BlackVeemon barked back a reply, and the bouncer shrugged, letting them in.

“What was that?” Iori asked, as they stopped before the sound-buffering door.

“He doesn’t like humans- or, at least, dressed humans.” BlackVeemon smiled.

“What did you say?”

“I told him I’d break his arm if he gave us any trouble.” He laughed, seeing the shocked expressions on the former chosen’s face. “Don’t worry. He’s a drunk. I’m a Champion now. Come on.” He opened the door, and a blast of music and light hit them in full force. Iori looked around, trying to find BlackArmadimon. At last, BlackVeemon sighed and pointed at the stage.

The kids face-faulted. BlackVeemon merely nodded, enjoying the show.

In the Technicolor light, BlackWormmon stood on the stage, his body pulsing to the music. Behind, BlackArmadimon stood over him, pumping his cock into the worm in time to the rhythm, not giving a care to the world. Iori stared as they pretended to lose their virginity, though he knew that they had probably done this for at least a year now.

BlackArmadimon grunted, filling BlackWormmon with his seed. The song ended in perfect timing, and the Digimon left the stage without even noticing the cheers or the hollers from the crowd. If they did indeed notice, they did a good job of hiding it.

“I take it they're the favorites here, then,” Daisuke asked BlackVeemon quietly. He shrugged.

BlackArmadimon pushed his way though the crowd, before he was pulled up onto a chair by a BlackTailmon. She planted a deep luscious kiss on his lips. Iori managed to catch some of their conversation.

“--Do you get – home, now?”

“I’m finished till Wednesday, -- love. Shall we go --?”

BlackTailmon nodded, stroking his black shell, before standing up and hopping down off of the chair. They walked towards the door.

Towards Iori.

“BlackArmadimon?” his voice croaked. He sniffed.

“Sorry, no… autographs… Oh, my god…” he answered, seeing Iori. He let go of the BlackTailmon, and walked over to Iori.

“Iori?” he asked.

“Armadimon!” Iori cried, lifting the Digimon up into his arms, embracing him, and squeezing the black shelled Digimon slightly. “What are you doing here?” he asked quietly.

BlackArmadimon stiffened. “It’s work, Iori.”

Iori sweat-dropped, and set down the Digimon, deciding to change the subject. “Who’s your lady friend?”

“This,” BlackArmadimon said with an air of confidence, “Is Tail. We’ve been going out for about a year now.”

She blushed.

“Well, congratulations. Best wishes to you both.” Iori bowed deeply. “I’m Iori, and this is Daisuke. Oh ya, the blue-haired boy over there is Ken, ‘self proclaimed boy genius.’”

Tail nodded. “What do you three do for a living?”

“Uh, we’re not out of school yet, but I work part time at an auto body shop. That’s were you fix cars,” he added quickly, when Tail raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t have a job yet,” Daisuke replied, sulking.

Ken shook his head.

Tail nodded again. “You are all Chosen, I guess.”

They nodded. “We’ve been Chosen for almost six years-”

Iori was cut off as the lights blacked out. A black lamp above the stage lit, bathing two fresh black Digimon in a purple glow. The Technicolor paint on their clothing glowed in the darkness. Iori stared for a moment; he’d never seen two Digimon look so good. One, a BlackSilphymon, who was rather well endowed, began taking off his chest plate; the other, a BlackLillymon, with pink petals floating down around her, moaned in anticipation. BlackSilphymon began stroking her chest, feeling the soft leaves on her bust.

Tail snorted. “They make the rest of us look bad. Hussies.”

The BlackSilphymon tugged the other’s remaining clothing off, while his own suit was removed. A cross between Tailmon and Aquilamon, it had clawed hands with wings sprouting out the sides and a helmet over his head. Pointed black ears topped with triangles of purple sprouted from his head. He managed to see without eyes, and had clawed talons resembling the earlier evolution, Aquilamon. His legs were still covered in feathers, though they, too, were now a deep shade of black. His chest plate, a sideways figure eight of pure steel, was lying on the floor, but his shoulder pads were still on.

Iori could see his long member sticking out of his feathered crotch, and the BlackLillymon sighed contently, before removing the last of her petal clothing. She was left only with her green leaf wings on her back, her pale black skin reflecting nicely in the black-purple light shining from above. A quick look around the audience, before BlackLillymon dived down to her target; soon BlackSilphymon’s clawed wings were in her petals.

Iori unconsciously moved his hand underneath his jeans, absorbed by the strip show before him. Daisuke sighed, and sat down beside him, uninterested in the sex show.

“Wow,” Ken muttered, sitting down beside the two. BlackArmadimon huffed, and walked outside with BlackVeemon and Tail, leaning up against the wall.

“Perverts,” Tail muttered.

BlackArmadimon shrugged. “Their just lonely teenagers. You’ve been horny before, eh?” he asked, nudging up against her.

She smiled a vicious, feral grin. BlackVeemon backed away uncertainly. He watched Daisuke pull both Ken and Iori up the stairs, the sound-buffering-door slamming shut behind them. He sighed, before shoving the boys up the rest of the way.

“Perverts,” he echoed. “You need girlfriends, both of you.”

“Who needs girlfriends?” Iori asked quietly. “We’ve got tickets to Plasma Grid!”

“Uh-huh,” Daisuke moaned, sweat dropping. “Let’s go. And quit pretending you’re drunk!”

“Hmpf,” Ken snorted. “It’s the town. It just does this to you. It’s something in the air.”

“Come on.”

They began walking, with Iori and Ken walking behind, talking quietly. Daisuke kept up with BlackVeemon, discussing why they were Black Virals now. “So, you couldn’t save a life, and you turned black?”

BlackVeemon nodded. “That’s the theory. Never found out for sure. I bet that’s why.”

Daisuke thought for a moment. “It would seem to me that all you would need to do, then, is perform some heroic act, something that takes courage or strength. Save a life, in essence.”

Again, BlackVeemon nodded. “We’d already thought of that, but unfortunately for us, there hasn’t been an opportunity.”

Daisuke nodded. He decided to change the subject, not liking where the current one was going. “So, BlackTailmon.”

“Tail.”

“Whatever. Where do you two live?” he asked

“We live a few blocks away from the fair.” BlackArmadimon answered, shuddering.

“You have a fair?” Iori asked.

“Not that kind of fair, Iori. You don’t ever, ever want to go to the fair. Trust me.”

“Why? What happens at the fair?”

None of the Black Virals answered. Iori chose not to persist.

This town must do things to them.

They continued walking down the street. The daylight outside had slowly faded to a deep blue, with traces of yellow and crimson along the horizon. Daisuke could hear music playing softly in the background. “Where’s that music coming from?”

“Background interference,” BlackVeemon answered in a know-it-all voice. “We ARE your Internet, remember?”

Daisuke sweat-dropped. “Remind me to quit downloading music all the time. Does it really affect you guys?”

“Actually, the only time it’s annoying is whenever someone downloads porn.” Tail answered. “We have enough of that around here, thank you very much.”

Daisuke smiled to himself. “Gotta stop that too,” he said quietly. Tail looked at him.

She seems to dislike this life a lot, Iori thought to himself.

BlackVeemon stopped in front of a building. “This is me.”

‘Me’ was a white washed building covered in red graffiti, with paint chipping off. The windows were mostly boarded up, except for a few higher up that had iron bars across them like a pawnshop would. BlackVeemon looked at the couple.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, then?” BlackArmadimon asked, nudging up against Tail.

BlackArmadimon and ‘Tail’ nodded, before saying their good byes and walking away, chatting quietly between themselves. Daisuke watched as BlackArmadimon stopped, and let Tail climb onto his back. They strode out of sight around the corner.

“They seem really happy, eh?” Daisuke mused, patting BlackVeemon on the head as he fished around for his keys in his pouch. He nodded, pretending not to pay attention; while in reality, it hit very much close to home.

He finally found his key, opened his door, and let them in. The stairs stunk of piss, beer, and vomit, in that order; BlackVeemon blushed a little. “You… uh… get used to it after a while.” He sighed. “You must think my life is disgusting. Well, it’s all I have-”

“Calm down,” Daisuke said. “We don’t think your life is disgusting. True, I wouldn’t choose to live here, but if you do, then we can’t possibly think it’s disgusting. Smelly? Maybe.”

BlackVeemon smiled weakly. “Thank you. You have no idea how good that makes me feel.”

Daisuke smiled, and looked at Iori, who was plugging his nose, and gave him a look of death. Iori winced, and let go, holding his breath. They walked into his room, and stared.

In one corner was BlackVeemon’s little cot, which seemed to be just big enough for him. In another corner was his mini-kitchen, complete with a fridge, oven, and sink. That was about it, besides the bathroom. In whole, it looked like it took up about as much room as Iori’s family room. “Small,” was the only word that came to mind.

“Good thing you brought your sleeping bags, huh?” BlackVeemon said with a slight laugh. The children nodded slowly. Their noses began to adjust to the smell around them.

BlackVeemon pushed the table to the side with surprising strength Daisuke didn’t know he had. He then helped the kids set up their sleeping bags.

He looks nervous, Iori thought to himself. He must not get a lot of guests. Poor guy. He always was so full of energy, of… vitality. Now…

Now BlackVeemon seemed depressed, shot down, even. He looked out the window for a moment, clearly reminiscing about Her.

“Uhh, Vee? What now?”

“Huh? Oh, ya. Uh…” he thought for a moment. “Are you tired? Do you want to go to bed?”

He seemed desperate, even. Iori decided to decide for the others. He yawned loudly. “I’m bushed. Long day at the shop, see? I say we hit the hay, and explore some more tomorrow. ‘K?”

The others nodded in slight understanding. BlackVeemon sat down on his cot, looking out the window. Daisuke flicked off the hanging light bulb, and climbed underneath his sleeping bag, slipping out of his pants and shirt. Ken did the same, though Daisuke probably wouldn’t have minded if he’d done so in Daisuke’s bag.

---

With the light out, all they had to see with was the orange light from the outside street lamps. A quiet tune poured through the open window; it wasn’t long before Daisuke and Ken were soon sleeping peacefully.

At least, they were sleeping; as Daisuke snored loudly and Ken kept talking to someone no one could see but him.

Iori sighed. While he’d been the one to suggest going to bed early (merely 10:00 PM) he couldn’t sleep. He looked around, aided little by the orange light pouring in from the outside…

BlackVeemon’s outline, a dark silhouette against the dim orange light from the outside. He was still awake, sitting up and looking out the window, his head tilted upwards at the stars. He sighed, mumbling something to himself, his face propped up by his fists. He didn’t know that Iori was watching him intently.

BlackVeemon sniffled. Iori decided to make his presence known. “Still awake, huh?”

BlackVeemon jumped, and then sighed slightly, realizing it was only Iori “Weren’t you tired? It’s already almost ten thirty, kid.” He sniffled again.

A quiet pause, louder than the music at The Plasma Experience. “You miss her, don’t you?”

The silhouette turned to face Iori. “You know, you were only ten years old, yet you knew more than I did.” He chuckled. “No, I can’t sleep. And yes, I do miss Tailmon. I haven’t heard from her in three- THREE- years, despite my constant attempts to find her. It’s because I’m Black, I know, but… damn…”

Iori nodded. BlackVeemon could see him clearly in the pale orange glow. “You know, I even tried to tell her how I felt, all those years ago. Remember? When we were looking for her tail ring in that forest? And yet, despite my feelings, I couldn’t get the nerve to ask her out. At least tell her how I felt, but nooo, I had to be nervous.

“Tailmon’s probably old enough to stay as Angewomon now; even more reason to stay away from me. I’m only a Black Child, just short of an Adult; she’s a full-fledged Perfection-Level Digimon! Fuck-”

Iori had never heard him swear before-

“-Could things get any more hopeless?”

He sighed. “Aw, damn. I’ve probably just ruined your day- night, I mean. Sorry.”

“Nah, it‘s okay. I was wondering if you would ever lift that heavy weight off your chest.”

They looked at each other in perfect understanding, and then burst out laughing, careful to keep it down.

BlackVeemon wiped a tear from his cheek, and sighed. “Well, I’m not going to sleep for a while. Hey, I know! Do you want to go do something?”

Iori looked at him suspiciously. “What do you mean, ‘do something’?”

“You know, go out, get a drink, find ourselves some nice, pretty strippers, and have some fun.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Are you sure?”

“Come on! It’ll be fun! Don’t worry about the others; we’ll leave a note. You know you want to…”

“Well, you do need someone to keep you in line, so… Okay. But no sex, okay? I’m not about to have sex with you any time soon.”

BlackVeemon looked at him. “You’ve never been drunk before, have you? You won’t want to have sex with me no matter how faced you get.” He paused. “Now group sex, well… that’s not too far out of reach.”

Iori snorted. “Alright. You’ve convinced me. And I was just joking about having sex with you.”

“Sure.” He picked up his keys, and toed around the sleeping Chosen. Ken suddenly yelled an incomprehensible phrase in his sleep that made Iori and BlackVeemon jump. They looked at each other, as Iori put on his coat. As they walked out the door, Daisuke seemed to answer Ken in his sleep, though neither was really conscious enough to hear the other.

Iori and BlackVeemon steeped out into the clear air. The smog from earlier was long gone; the music had died completely, and only a few flickering neon lights buzzed now. Iori couldn’t see the graffiti covering all the buildings; it looked like a normal town now, except for the incredible number of sex shows. They turned the corner, their breath freezing and condensing ahead of them in visible jets of steam.

“This is the one street that can make you a Mon—er, man—thirty-two different times over in one night. Incredible, isn’t it?” BlackVeemon asked.

Iori shuddered, feeling his hormones taking control. He listened to BlackVeemon talk to himself quietly.

“Down under? Fetish Parties. Rookie’s domain? Pedophilia. Nope.” He seemed to be counting off the ones he wouldn’t go near, for one reason or another. “Hey, Iori? You see one you like?”

He shuddered again. “How about that one? ‘The Pulse’?”

“Sure. Seems good.” He led the way down the stairs that took them below ground. He opened the door, and felt a blast of music and strobe lights. Iori smiled.

“This is more like it,” he said to himself. He watched BlackVeemon go up to the bar and get some drinks. Once again, he got them without paying, which was beginning to feel more and more normal around here. He reached out for his beer, which BlackVeemon handed him.

“Thanks for the drink, bud,” he muttered.

“Huh? Oh, ya, no problem,” he answered, not really paying attention. He eyed a BlackPiyomon, and then pinched her ass. She yelped, turned around, looked at him, and smiled. BlackVeemon gave her a feral grin, and she pulled him into the crowd.

“…Meet you here in an hour, ‘K?” his voice floated above the pit of people and Digimon.

Iori stared. He hadn’t noticed, but there were dozens of humans there. Most seemed to be about his age, too; he believed they were all, or mostly, Chosen. He looked around, not knowing what to do, when a young girl who looked to be about fourteen or fifteen slipped an arm around his.

He looked at her; she hadn’t said a word, as if they’d known each other forever. She looked back.

Her eyes. They were large blue eyes. The girl had long, purple flowing hair, and was wearing a white, near see-through shirt laced in the front. He smiled. “My name’s Iori. I’m from Tokyo. You?”

“Sayura. I’m from Kyoto. You want to dance?”

“Don’t see why not.” They listened as a slow dance started.

“Alright, all the couples on the dance floor! Let’s go!” the DJ’s voice, human, boomed over the music. She placed her hands around his neck, and he grabbed her around the waist, inches away from her butt. She smiled, looking into his eyes, while he looked back.

“Do you come here often?” Iori asked her quietly.

“Nope. First time. You?”

He shook his head. “You’re a Chosen, right?”

She nodded. “My Digimon’s just over there…” she pointed to a half-genie, half-elephant floating above the crowd, sipping from a beer. The BlackTapirmon hovered down before another Digimon, and she started talking. “You?” Sayura asked back.

“Uh-huh. My BlackArmadimon’s at home, sleeping. He was out like a light, and he has his own girlfriend, so they share a flat… I think. I’m staying with…” he looked around for BlackVeemon. “…A BlackVeemon, my friend’s Digimon.”

They revolved slowly on the spot, Sayura resting her head lightly on his chest. She was almost a foot shorted than he was. She sighed. “You’re a good dancer.”

“I know,” he joked. “Actually, I’ve never danced in my life. Never had the chance.”

The music stopped playing, and a quicker beat picked up.

“Really? Never?”

He shook his head. “I’m always busy, either at Kendo lessons, or at school, or working at the shop.”

“You have a job already? How old are you?”

“Fifteen.” He smirked. “Could you teach me to dance?”

She grinned. “Of course. But first, I need a drink.”

---

BlackVeemon poked his head out the bathroom door, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. Deciding no one was watching him, he stepped out, arranging his pouches and shoving a piece of paper, with her number on it, into one of them. Behind him, the BlackPiyomon followed him out of the stall, giving a part-nervous, part-jealous smile. He blushed, grabbing her hand. They walked up to the bar for some more alcohol.

---

Iori sighed, feeling satisfied from dancing, as he sat on the barstool, sipping from a Coke. Sayura was a good teacher, no doubt about it. Though all they’d ended up doing was basically humping each other in time to the music. Which wasn’t wrong, not at all, Iori decided.

A tap on his thigh. He looked down and saw a slightly swooning BlackVeemon, smothered by the BlackPiyomon whose ass he’d pinched earlier. She continued to kiss him, which was awkward considering her beak, while he tried to talk.

“I’m going (hic) home now. Do you (hic) know the way back?”

His breath reeked. Iori leaned back slightly, nodding. BlackVeemon walked off, holding the BlackPiyomon in a rude way.

“Wow. Quite the stud.” Sayura commented. Iori shuddered, lewd pictures of her and the lizard forming in his mind.

“He’s the one I’m staying with. And yes; yes, he is a stud. His best friends work at an adult theater,” he counted off on his fingers; “he doesn’t know where his first, true love is, or why she won’t call, and he routinely goes out with about five girls a week. Yes, quite a stud.”

Sayura snorted up some of her beer, almost blowing it out her nose. “You jerk,” she said, laughing. He laughed back.

“It’s getting late- err, early. Do you want to go?”

She nodded, wiping her nose with a tissue. “Sure. Let me grab my coat.” She called the BlackTapirmon, who floated up beside her silently. They made a beeline for the exit, maneuvering past several other drunken couples, most with their tongues down each other’s throats.

He looked at his watch as he opened the door. It was just… about… midnight…

The music blared suddenly, and the lights faded. 12:00 AM on the dot. He looked at Sayura, who shrugged, not knowing what was going to happen.

The raised platform was cleared of it’s previous dancers, and a young girl, about seventeen, stumbled out onto the stage, wearing nothing but a white tank top and a thong to match. She was blindfolded, and by the way she walked, something told Iori she was drunk.

A black bird flew up onto the stage, cheered on by all the dancers. He walked up to the young girl, and grabbed her roughly. The girl hiccupped, smiling drunkenly, swaying to the music. The ChibiBlackSeraphimon, who walked on two legs and looked remarkably like BlackSilphymon, kissed the young girl before removing her top-

“Oh, god,” Sayura said. They left the building, Iori holding her around the waist to keep her from collapsing. She felt nauseated.

The sound-buffering door closed behind them, but not soon enough; before it closed the kids heard a scream, followed by a roar from the crowd.

---