Digimon-Resurgence

In a quiet cul-de-sac three miles north of Fountain, Colorado, Chris Mercer lived a life balanced between code and custody agreements. A 35-year-old I.T. professional, Chris worked remotely for a cybersecurity firm, surrounded by blinking monitors and air-cooled towers in his basement office—his sanctuary when his kids weren’t around.

He shared 50/50 custody of his three children—Micah (11), Lila (6), and Ezra (2)—with his ex-wife, alternating weeks filled with bedtimes, cartoons, homework, and early-morning cereal spills. The off-weeks were quiet, focused, and just a little too lonely. That’s when he let his real obsession creep back in: Digimon.

Chris never grew out of it. He followed the lore, joined forums under pseudonyms, and even maintained an archive of obscure Digital World anomalies. A part of him—a quiet, digital-ghost part—believed it all had some root in reality. But reality always had responsibilities, and Digimon remained a fantasy… until the package arrived.

It came on a Tuesday. No return label. No explanation. Just a sleek, midnight-black Digivice, glowing faintly in the dim light of his office.

He touched it. The lights flickered. His laptop crashed into a storm of unreadable code. And then, from the data storm swirling across his screen, something stepped out.

WereGarurumon.

Eight feet tall, part warrior, part wolf, wrapped in leather and silence. His eyes met Chris’s, and Chris didn’t scream. He’d dreamed of this too long.

“You are my partner,” WereGarurumon said, simply.

That night, Chris didn’t sleep.

By dawn, he had a cover story prepared, a secret room built inside his basement’s server closet, and a secure hard drive filled with encrypted logs of digital breaches. He knew the rules now: keep the Digital World a secret—especially from the kids.

Because if they found out? He couldn’t guarantee he could protect them.

________________________________________

In the weeks that followed, Chris led a double life.

When the kids were home, he was Dad—packing lunches, helping with spelling tests, fixing Ezra’s toy cars, and pretending his three-monitor setup was just for "boring work stuff."

But when they were gone?

He became something else.

With WereGarurumon at his side, he tracked Digital Distortions—code storms bleeding into reality through cell towers, power substations, even the Garden of the Gods’ magnetic fields. Rogue Digimon emerged, twisted by Earth's raw information overload. Some could be reasoned with. Others had to be fought.

Chris used his I.T. knowledge to build a firewall network of his own—both literal and metaphorical. He rerouted signals, covered up breaches, and cleaned up messes before authorities ever knew. He crafted fake weather anomalies and electromagnetic "explanations" to keep it all quiet.

One night, while Lila was at a sleepover and the boys were asleep, Chris faced a corrupted Datamon trying to hijack the city’s smart grid. The battle played out in a power plant on the edge of the mountains, glowing blue with static and fire. WereGarurumon fought like a ghost in a data storm, while Chris redirected the digital current through his Digivice, sealing the fracture just as local security rolled in.

No one ever found a trace.

________________________________________

But the lies grew heavier.

Micah began noticing things—power flickers when Chris got quiet, strange symbols on his backup drives, and a shadow that once flashed across the hallway, too tall to be his dad. Chris denied it all. Changed the subject. Locked the server room.

Lila mentioned dreams of a "blue wolf with golden eyes" that whispered to her from inside the computer. Chris smiled and said it was just her imagination.

But WereGarurumon watched silently from the shadows. He knew the truth.

The kids were linked. Maybe not ready. But connected.

One afternoon, after the kids left with their mom, Chris stood in the driveway, Digivice glowing faintly in his palm.

“How long do I keep lying?” he asked.

“As long as you must,” WereGarurumon said, stepping beside him. “You’re protecting them. That’s what a father—and a Digidestined—does.”

Chris nodded, eyes on the fading taillights.

“I just hope one day they’ll understand.”

He turned and walked inside, locking the door behind him.

Because in a world where firewalls cracked and data bled into the sky, truth could be more dangerous than code. And some secrets—some digital destinies—had to wait.

Until the world was ready.

Or until his kids came looking.