      âThink of it this way,â he elaborated, drawing his hands into guileful steeples. âThe Digimon â or at the very least, their data â that Diaboromonâs eating has lost its taste. Like the first time you try a school meal, itâs repugnant; the more you suffer it, the more bland and forgettable they become.â Unless your name was Ken Ichijouji, the âRocketâ and super-boy extraordinaire whose catering was arranged in luxurious privacy.
      âIn that same way, our petâs not gaining anything by digesting stale information that it already knows. What Iâm suggesting is, actually, two things â
           One: we find a new, distinct source of data for it to gorge on.        And secondly: to do so, we ascend it beyond its current, mundane level.â
     If that wasnât enough of a glimpse into the Kaiserâs warped ambitions, then perhaps the contents upon the enormous, multiple-screened monitor might serve as a suitable presentation. Across the manifest, pixellated panorama was a reconstruction of the city in which they had formerly holed up residence in prior to their official disappearances â and across the grainy picture were estimations of information in bytes according to each district.
   âWhat Iâm suggesting, Niccy, is that we take this whole thing back to Stage Select.â
   â So we feed him something else.. I get it..but...â     Niccy had begun to warm up to the idea of change, the repetitive cycle of throwing their precious pet into hordes of innocent Digimon becoming less effective as time passed on. Entertainment wise, it was brilliant. But now Diaboromon bothered them during the early hours of the morning, in the middle of the night, distorted demands for a substantial substance to sate itâs uncontrollable hunger more prominent. The couple had truly created a monster, one that had become developing a mind of its own. It wasnât like they were in any danger-- they had complete control. But they didnât want him becoming belligerent..    â Humans. We give him a human. Should we test it out...? Or perhaps...Pick our town of choice? Itâs not like weâre going back there..â The blonde grinned, gravitating closer to her Kaiser. â Right?â
