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[Center][i]15:00 22 October[/i][/center]
	Flames roared as a troop of Goburimon rushed in against an increasingly smaller number of Hawkmon. Explosions rocked the sky, curbed only by a blinding light. Behind it all, an armored figure glowered to the opponent beyond. A sound like war horns rang out as an angled, crystalline blade was raised to the smokey sky. The armored form's throat seemed to begin to bellow, but not quite. Not yet. It wasn't ready. And the scale of the barrier of light was stifling the crimson glow the armored one could accrue.
	Soon...
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	The ride in the limousine was silent.-
Its arrival in front of his modest home was a bit of a surprise. Of course, his mother made a fuss, from which he encouraged her to calm down before leaving. A tousling of his hair and a 'go get 'em kiddo', met with a nervous wave, and he was off.- The ride in to the center of Tokyo from Saitama was pleasant, if not short. Despite the large aggregate of other limo's- somewhere around five or six- traffic moved smoothly, much to his liking.
	He gripped the D-Scanner, which was clipped on the reverse side of his pocket, as his bag rested on his lap. Inside, the screen flashed brightly, the LCD display showing the image of an egg, under it the words 'hatch me' in smallcaps. There was a slight lurch as a concrete median was passed over at low speeds, causing the cylindrical bag to slump, prompting it to be donned upon his back.

	As the door was opened, Haruka stepped out, met with the bright view of a marvelously sized business building. His stance shifted almost instantaneously, his feet met together, shoulders wide, bag on his back, the slight breeze fluffing his pink hair as his jacket clung to him tightly. This was it. A jolly, older looking man in bright, informal clothes greeted them rather bombastically, full of hyperbole. It was all he could do to stop himself from rolling his eyes, but the slight sting of cold and the presence of the businessly looking American woman did indeed stop him. A quick eye-dash over the other attendees, and it seemed to be mostly rabble. Still, he'd have expected more to show up at a promotional event such as this. His hand slipping into the top of his bag, he withdrew a rather worn looking hard deckbox and clipped it to the back pocket of his pale slacks, moving fluidly, so as to avoid notice, and appear as cool and collected as his visage.