The spire had turned out exactly the way he'd envisioned. Rising out of the flat, featureless plain, it stood straight and tall, a black needle piercing the sky, an obscene middle finger raised toward the gods. It could be seen for kilometers in every direction, and Ken was really quite proud of himself. He'd actually pulled it off.
He could tell that he'd built it correctly because the measurable signal output from his Digivice had increased considerably, boosted by the spire. If his calculations were correct, and they always were, the effect radius should be about six kilometers, and it should be able to pick up and amplify the signal from his Digivice as long as he remained within about thirty kilometers of the spire. Additional spires should be able to relay the signal between them as well, increasing his range and his domain, although he had yet to test this. Even so, this was a splendid start.
Digimon, attracted by this alteration in their lives, were beginning to congregate around the base of the spire. Ken had anticipated this, and had gotten Airdramon to carry him up to the tip of the spire, where he perched now, dressed in his brand-new blue and gold and with his hair spiked out. Looking at a hologram of himself earlier, conjured up with the aid of his laptop, he'd been rather startled by his own appearance. Between the dark tint of his glasses, the unusual cut of the gold-edged cape, and the way his hair stuck out in every direction, Ken had succeeded in erasing every hint of the lonely, stressed, antisocial child who had come to the digital world this morning. He was, in fact, rather proud of this as well.
For just a little while, he could wrap himself in armor made of a cape and gloves and glasses and pretend that, inside it all, he wasn't Ken Ichijouji anymore. And somehow, that made him stop hurting, just for a little while.
Look at them, thought Ken, peering down at the milling Digimon. They have no cares at all which aren't programmed into them. They have no problems that can't be resolved within the parameters of the game. And best of all, they can never die. He squelched that thought, but it was too late. The height of the spire was sufficient that he was certain none of the Digimon below him could see the tears that suddenly stung his eyes. Even so, he quickly dashed two fingers of one hand under his glasses, hoping that the motion would be mistaken for something else. It was getting a little hot up here, with the sun on his back and sun-warmed black stone underfoot. Maybe the Digimon would assume that he was wiping sweat off his cheeks.
He couldn't fool the one Digimon up here atop the spire with him, though. A gentle tug on his leg preceded the soft words, "What's wrong, Ken?"
"Nothing," he said. Nothing was wrong with him. Today, he wasn't even going to be Ken. He would be a new person, one who didn't have this ache in his chest, one who didn't have nightmares, one who didn't have a science exam in the morning. Okay, maybe not that last, it wouldn't be very smart to neglect his studies for a game. Turning his head slightly, he added, in a steadier voice, "Besides, I told you not to call me that in public."
"Right, I'm sorry, Ken," said Wormmon, who then hastily corrected himself. "I mean, Master." Ken rewarded him with a smile and a pat on the head. Positive reinforcement, it worked wonders on dogs. He didn't doubt it would work on these Digimon. Wormmon settled down at his feet on the sloping tip of the spire, a position that Ken had already determined, with the help of his hologram, made Ken look better. Between Wormmon crouched at his feet and Airdramon hovering in the air behind him, he was certain that he would look considerably more ... imperial, for lack of a better word, than if he'd been alone.
Deciding that a sufficient number of Digimon had gathered at the spire's base, Ken raised his voice to address them. Today, he would cease to be Ken Ichijouji and take on another, better identity. Even if only for a little while.
"Greetings," he said, pleased at the way his voice carried. "I bring to you good tidings. Your experiences of being unprotected from the ravages of Virus Digimon, and of not knowing what to do with yourselves, are over. I am the Digimon Kaizer, and from now on, I will give your lives a purpose, and keep you safe from all external threats." He raised his arms, in a pose he felt mimicked a benign sort of benediction. It was this image, of him with his arms spread and the points of his cape falling behind him, that he intended to impress into the minds of his new subjects. This was what they should see in their minds whenever they looked at him, just in case he slipped in the future and forgot that he wasn't Ken Ichijouji here.
Not surprisingly, there was considerable stir among the gathered Digimon. He'd expected some confusion, and some resistance to his new regime. He was prepared. Several black rings had been programmed in advance and were looped around the very tip of the spire he straddled.
The Digimon below murmured among themselves, and most of them looked back up toward Ken. One of the bigger ones, of an insect type he didn't recognize, yelled up at him, "Are you a human child? Digi-Destined?"
"Yes," said Ken, pleased that someone other than himself had brought up this point. He pulled out his Digivice and held it high. "Your legends tell of children from another world who will save you from the darkness that threatens." He personally considered this a rather tired and lame plot, endlessly rehashed in various movies and other games that he'd played before. The Digimon, though, didn't know any better, so he made it sound as dramatic as possible. "I have come from that other world, and this Digivice is proof of my claim. I have come to save you. I am the Digi-Destined."
More murmuring among the Digimon below. This statement seemed sufficient for a large number of them, but others looked unconvinced. Ken couldn't hear what they were saying, though, so he put the Digivice away and waited for another Digimon to challenge him.
He didn't have to wait very long. A Floramon was the next to yell up to him. "Why have you built this thing?"
"This spire is the symbol of my protection," Ken lied. He shifted his stance, as the sharp slope of the spire's tip didn't make for very comfortable standing. "I will be building more in the future, and as long as you can see one of these spires, you will know that the Digimon Kaizer is watching over you." That much was true.
"But it's ugly!"
Ken frowned. He personally believed the spire to be rather attractive on several levels. It had a clean, Egyptian outline that appealed to Ken enormously, and he also liked the implicit challenge. Hurt me, will you? Perhaps I'll bite back. "I'm doing this for your own good, not for aesthetic reasons."
"How do we know this is for our own good?" asked a Woodmon. It stood at the head of a pack of Woodmon, and was a bit bigger than the rest.
"You just have to trust me," said Ken. "I'm the Digi-Destined. If you comply and obey me, then I'll protect you and save you from the darkness. However, I'd like to let you all know that this isn't a request I'm making. If you decide not to obey me, then I'll have to resort to force in the interest of the greater good." He issued this in as delicate a manner as he dared; he didn't want to antagonize them unnecessarily by slapping their faces with a straight-up threat, but on the other hand, in his experience, most Digimon weren't smart enough to catch a subtle hint. He picked up the top black ring in the stack and held it in his hand, waiting for the next objection.
"What are you going to do to make me obey you?" called the Woodmon, in a jeering tone of voice that Ken definitely didn't like. "Send your Airdramon there to fight me? Or maybe that little Wormmon instead?"
"I could," said Ken. "But it's better for all parties involved if I don't destroy the ones I'm trying to protect." He did a swift calculation of the angle and wind velocity, took aim with the black ring, and let it fly with a flick of his wrist. As he'd programmed it to do, the ring locked onto its target and became a sort of self-guided missile, wrapping itself around the startled Woodmon's neck with an accuracy that even Ken couldn't have accomplished with a simple toss. He noted with approval that the effect was nearly instantaneous with a control spire so nearby, something he hadn't bothered to determine in advance. The Digimon's eyes glazed over and took on an unfocused, reddish glow, staring upward at Ken in hatred.
"That's better," said Ken. "Whom do you serve?"
In a hissing monotone that dripped with loathing, the Woodmon replied, "The Digimon Kaizer is my master." Other Digimon around the ringed one drew back in surprise, and there were gasps of horror from some of them. Ken wasn't thrilled himself with the animosity that the rings engendered, but it was an acceptable, if unfortunate, side effect. As long as they obeyed him, it didn't much matter what they thought of him; the feelings simulated by lines of code weren't very high on his list of things to care about.
"I am the Digimon Kaizer!" he shouted. "I am Digi-Destined, and I will save you from the darkness whether you want to be saved or not! Now, are you going to acknowledge me, or am I going to have to put a ring on every last one of you?"
The pack of Woodmon were the first Digimon to start calling out his new name, led by the one he'd ringed. "Kai-zer! Kai-zer! Kai-zer!" Gradually, the rest of the Digimon recovered from their shock, and others took up the call. "Kai-ZER! Kai-ZER! Kai-ZER!" Ken reached down and picked up the next ring in the stack, and as if slapped, the remainder joined in. "KAI-ZER! KAI-ZER! KAI-ZER!"
He smiled, raising his arms again in a benediction that was perhaps a tad spoiled by the ring in one hand, and for just a moment he was the Kaizer, and they were calling his name. The sound washed over him in successive waves, and whether it was love that prompted the cheer or fear, it didn't matter. He was the Digimon Kaizer, the sword of the digital world, and he had finally found a way to drown out the pain and guilt and loneliness that had eaten away at his soul for as long as he could remember.
------======*======------
"That went a lot better than I'd expected," said Ken, crouched down out of the worst of the slipstream, braced against the wind and exhilarated. Wormmon, who had a harder time finding purchase on Airdramon's armored head, leaned against the front of Ken's sneaker.
"I don't think they were all convinced, though," said the Digimon in a low tone. Ken glanced down at him, and found that the wind was making him miserable, his huge eyes tearing up and his antennae whipping against the boy's ankle.
"Why don't you get behind me?" said Ken. "The wind won't be so bad on you back there." Wormmon didn't say anything, but he obeyed, moving around into the wind shadow of Ken's legs beneath the flashing cape, and plastered himself down against Airdramon's head to keep from being swept off. "I know they weren't all convinced," Ken continued, looking forward again. "Some of them were cheering just to keep from having a ring thrown on them. But it doesn't matter whether or not they believe me, only that they obey me."
A loud rumbling laugh came from under his feet. "Some might cease to obey once you're out of sight, Master," said Airdramon.
"Some might," Ken conceded. "That's why, after school tomorrow, I'm going to review the spire's records, find the first one who started causing trouble the instant I left, and publicly throw a ring on it. That should keep the rest in line for a little while at least. They'll know that I'm watching, even when I'm not actually there."
"And if none of them started causing trouble the instant you left?"
Ken gave Airdramon a playful punch in the top of the head. "Don't be silly. Besides, you're contradicting yourself now." His sneakers vibrated again with the big Digimon's laughter.
Then Airdramon's flat, level flight altered suddenly, and Ken had to lay a hand down to keep his balance, feeling Wormmon latch onto his heel. He was about to demand an explanation from Airdramon when something whizzed by over his head; it surely would have taken his head clean off if Airdramon hadn't plunged out of the way.
"Hang on," said Airdramon, unnecessarily at this point, folding his wings and starting a steep, evasive dive. Ken pulled Wormmon up in front of himself again. The little Digimon might dislike the gale, but with one hand on him, Ken felt more reassured that he wouldn't lose his most loyal companion to gravity or the wind. Ken allowed himself to slide back a little way along Airdramon's head, until he could grab one of the Digimon's horns with his other hand.
"What is it?" asked Ken, searching the skies for the attacker. He felt no fear, only a tingle of excitement; if he'd discovered fear lurking in the back of his mind, he would have had to question his sanity. It was only a game, after all.
"I don't know yet," said Airdramon, leveling off his dive and circling around. Ken caught a glimpse of something dark up in the sky shortly before another energy blast forced Airdramon to roll away. The great head shifted and the wind direction changed as Airdramon peered up and over at the dark thing. "It looks like a Devidramon, but I could be mistaken."
"Devidramon don't attack like that," said Wormmon. "I think it's a Velemon."
"Could be," agreed Airdramon, spinning down and away from a fresh assault. "Let's hope not, though. Should I keep evading it, Master, or attack it? I wouldn't ask except you're on my head right now, and that might become a dangerous place."
"Attack it," said Ken, without hesitation, although he knew that his presence was also hampering Airdramon's maneuverability. "Get me close enough and I'll put a ring on it." All he really had to do was get close enough to the ... whatever it was, so that it was within the targeting range of the ring. With murmured instructions to Wormmon to hang onto his leg, he let go of the smaller Digimon and pulled one of the spare black rings out of the folds of his cape.
Airdramon obligingly began to circle higher, picking up speed and dodging attacks from the strange Digimon, occasionally returning fire when it seemed appropriate. He couldn't seem to get close enough, though; whenever Ken was about to rise up and throw the ring, the other flyer would retreat out of range. Having a good idea of the ring's range, Airdramon kept trying to get closer, and Ken was having the time of his life.
The wind whipped his spiked hair and flapped the tails of his cape out behind him. Wormmon clung to his calf for dear life, and it was a major challenge to keep a grip on Airdramon's horn and remain more or less upright with the Digimon weaving and rolling through the air. Ken ended up with one foot still on Airdramon's head and the other on the base of the horn, holding himself along the length of the horn with one arm hooked around it, ecstatic with the rush of the wind and the increasingly erratic maneuvers that Airdramon was trying. He felt more alive than he had since Osamu died, more solid and real in the middle of an air duel in a game than he did in the real world. He laughed aloud into the wind, and thus missed it entirely when Airdramon was hit unexpectedly from behind.
Ken lost his grip on the horn at the surprising motion, and slid back along Airdramon's head to his neck before he found another hold in the Digimon's mane. Wormmon whimpered in mortal terror, but Ken just clamped his thighs around Airdramon's neck and picked Wormmon off his calf, plunking the little Digimon in front of him.
"Grab onto the mane!" he yelled over the wind, suiting action to words and twisting his own gloved hand into the mane. "In case I get knocked off, you'll be okay!"
Wormmon did this, but then stared back at Ken as the boy's words sunk in. "I can't let you get hurt!"
"I'll be fine, just keep hold of Airdramon!" Ridiculous, to think that he could actually be hurt by a game, or that little Wormmon could do anything about it anyway. Of greater concern was the possibility of Wormmon getting hurt or killed. It would be very inconvenient for Ken to lose the use of his most loyal Digimon, not to mention a damned waste of resources. Wormmon, of course, didn't think of things that way, and his round face glowed with admiration at Ken's apparent courage.
Ken had scant attention to spare for Wormmon's admiration, however. He looked around for the source of the unexpected attack, and found that two more of the strange Digimon had joined the fray. Airdramon was having increasing difficulty in avoiding the attacks of all three, and still couldn't quite get close enough to any of them for Ken to toss on a ring. After a few minutes of watching the four airborne Digimon spar and feeling Airdramon grow weary, Ken was ready to admit defeat.
"Let's just forget this," he called up to Airdramon. "Can you outrun them?"
"I can try," said Airdramon. But practically the instant he turned to leave the fight, one of the strange Digimon flew straight for him. Ken raised the ring, happy that retreat was going to be turned into victory, but never got a chance to throw it. Diving swiftly in a kamikaze-style charge, the Digimon pounded bodily into Airdramon's side, ripping free Ken's grip on Airdramon's mane and jolting him right off Airdramon's back.
Well, damn, thought Ken in the instant he felt himself lose contact with Airdramon. I wonder if this is a "game over" situation. Falling to his death from a few thousand feet up certainly held a good possibility of being the end of the game. He turned over in mid-air, and the sensation of falling backwards induced a brief spate of panic, but Ken reminded himself that it wasn't real, flattening the instinctive terror with irritation. The only thing more inconvenient than having to do without Wormmon would be having to start all over from the beginning.
Over the whistle of the wind, Ken could hear Wormmon's panicky calls and Airdramon's deep, rumbling replies. Then his back struck something, hard, and a lot sooner than he'd expected to hit the ground. He had a moment to wonder if he'd miscalculated either his height or the digital world's gravitational acceleration before blacking out.
------======*======------
"Stay here, Ken-chan," said Osamu, smiling down at him. "Don't move from this spot, okay?"
Ken opened his mouth to tell his brother, No, don't go, don't leave me or walk across the street and especially don't die! But nothing came out, no sound at all. He wanted to say, I didn't mean it when I wished that you'd die, I was just a child and I didn't know what I was saying, I didn't know that I couldn't live without you and I didn't know that curses can come true! But his voice had been stolen from him, and all he could do was shake his head.
Osamu grinned in gruesome, morbid cheer and said again, "Stay here." Then he hopped out into the street without looking both ways, the way he'd taught Ken to look both ways, and how Osamu always looked both ways but this time he didn't. And in slow motion, the car came out of nowhere and clipped Osamu on the hip, throwing him back into the sidewalk, so very slowly that it seemed to Ken it would last forever and his brother would never actually hit the ground. The bottom fell out of Ken's world, and he screamed and screamed and screamed. He dropped to his knees and screamed, and the ground dropped beneath him so that he was falling as well, falling so very slowly along with the body of his brother, and he could feel the wind catching in his cape and he could feel the tinted glasses over the bridge of his nose, and the hands that clutched at his throat were gloved and armored. I did this. I did this. I did this. And he screamed and he could hear his mother screaming and he could hear his father screaming and a sword hilt was thrust into his hand and then he hit solid ground.
There was an awful pain in his back, as if his spine were just one giant bruise. Laying on his back, on this enormous pain, Ken groaned in distress and attempted to roll over onto his side. What on earth had happened to him? And why had his mother put him to bed laying on his back if his back was injured? It took considerable effort, but he managed to get over onto his side. The pain subsided, and this dashed the nascent theory that he'd formed that he was injured all over and that was why he'd been laying on his back. He pressed his cheek to the cool surface beneath him and was simply miserable for a little while. Now that the horrible pain in his back was lessened, he became aware of many smaller pains, such as the one throbbing behind his eyes and several present in various joints.
"I knew I'd heard something," said a hissing voice somewhere nearby. "See, I told you I'd heard something."
"Yes, yes," said a deeper voice in a cool and detached tone. "Get him up."
A vast, cold hand wrapped around each forearm and Ken was wrenched up to his feet. The change in position intensified his headache, and the many small pains located around his body protested vehemently. A little cry escaped him, and Ken cracked open his eyes to find out who was being so cruel to him when any idiot could see that he was hurt.
Another hand closed around his chin, and Ken found himself looking blearily up at something that could only be called a face by the most charitable of souls. Black flesh creased all over by welts and scars, and pierced by many tiny horns, broken by a knife slash that served as a mouth and an upturned, piggish nose. The eyes that gazed back at Ken were the only halfway normal feature, green and crystalline, and actually quite beautiful and out-of-place in the hideousness of that face.
"Who the hell are you?" lisped Ken weakly, and he tasted blood in the words. He must have split his lip on top of everything else, although he couldn't feel it. Perhaps the muzziness that lingered behind the headache had something to do with that.
The knife mouth opened in laughter. "Nerves of steel! I knew there was no lie in that, but you must admit how nice it is to have one's information independently corroborated."
"Huh?" Ken tried to stand up, considering that he was already upright and his shoulders were starting to ache, but his knees were too weak to support him. After a moment, he gave up and sagged down again, held up by the iron grip on his arms. What the hell was going on here? He couldn't quite seem to remember what had led to this particular chain of events.
"To answer your question, I am Chernomon. I had been told that you were brave to the point of suicide. It is not that I doubted my sources, but it was hard to believe until I had seen it for myself."
Chernomon. The name didn't ring any bells for Ken, but it did explain something. "You're a Digimon," he said, things starting to click back into place. "Then I'm still in the Digiworld."
"Of course you are!"
"Then the game's not over." Suddenly this entire situation was starting to make sense. He remembered falling off Airdramon's back now; he must have been caught on his way down and brought here. This must be part of the plot of the game. No wonder Airdramon hadn't been able to get him close enough to ring the attacking Digimon. The outcome of that encounter had probably been rigged.
"No. The game, as you say, is not yet over."
If he was still in the digital world, then it was time to shed this debilitating weakness and return to being the Kaizer. He managed to get his feet under him again, and through force of will alone he locked his knees. Some of the strain on his shoulders eased, and a shake of his head brought a stab of white pain shooting through his temples along with a certain level of clarity.
"My god, this is realistic," he muttered, as the blindness of pain subsided. With most of the grogginess gone, he was able to peer up at Chernomon again and see the Digimon clearly. Aside from the strange beauty of Chernomon's green eyes, the entirety of the thing was a patchwork of nightmare. Long talons tipped his fingers, of which he had four on one hand and six on the other, and a pair of oversized wings dragged the ground behind him. Feathered like a bird's, they were dirty, ripped, and tattered, missing great patches of feathers and with many feathers bent or broken. A white robe dropped from the Digimon's shoulders, concealing most of his body, but strange little protrusions poked at the robe from within, hinting at deformities. At almost every visible joint, from elbow to knuckle to the back of the thing's neck, tiny curved horns poked out through the black skin, usually surrounded by the whorls of scars that looked almost deliberate and ritual in nature. Lank, pale hair fell in tangled clumps from the Digimon's scalp, interspersed with several irregular bald spots.
Considerably taller than Ken, Chernomon peered down at him without a hint of malice in his expression. After giving Ken a minute or so to pull himself together, he said, "Better. Now maybe we can have a civilized chat, instead of me talking to you while you attempt to collect your thoughts." Looking up over Ken's head, the Digimon added, "Bring him," and then started walking away.
Whatever had a hold of Ken's arms followed, dragging Ken along with it. After a few stumbling steps, Ken gave up trying to walk and just let himself be dragged by the wrists. As his surroundings changed, he realized that he'd been in some kind of small room, perhaps a storage closet. The corridor outside led to a stairwell going up, and that was almost Ken's doom until his keeper lifted him up and carried him bodily up the steps. Chernomon's wingtips trailed along the ground in front of Ken, collecting dust and debris, and once a feather came loose and was left, lonely and abandoned, in the corner at the base of one step.
At the top of the staircase was another dark corridor, and around the corner from that corridor was another one. Ken pondered closing his eyes and taking a quick nap, since he was being carried and didn't have to make an effort to keep up, but somehow that didn't seem appropriate to his identity as the Digimon Kaizer. Each corridor was stone from top to bottom, roughly-hewn and looking like it had been carved right out of the living rock itself. A few torches here and there gave enough light to hurt Ken's eyes and aggravate his headache, and the corridors were high enough and wide enough to accommodate the large winged Digimon that had attacked Ken earlier. There seemed to be a lot of those here, but they weren't at all hostile now.
Finally, Chernomon turned into another corridor that proved not to be a corridor at all, but a large room. Carved out of rock like all the rest of the places Ken had been, it was hung with tapestries on the walls and carpeted with a thick reddish rug. Tapestries and rug were all woven with geometric designs that immediately reminded Ken that he ought to study for this week's math test as soon as he was done studying for the science exam.
Chernomon aimed a taloned finger at a low pile of pillows and rugs. "Put him down there," he said, and Ken was unceremoniously dumped onto the pile. He suppressed a gasp of agony when his bruised back contacted something, and he quickly shifted position so that didn't happen anymore. Although standing had proved impossible not long ago, sitting up was much easier, and Ken managed to gather some degree of dignity back around himself. The Digimon who'd been holding him all this time proved to be of the same unidentified type that had attacked him earlier, and that he'd seen throughout the corridors. After releasing him, it crouched down near the door and went as still as a gargoyle statue. Chernomon knelt down on the bare floor opposite Ken, his robe falling around him in folds.
Well, first things first. He might be the prisoner of one of the most hideous Digimon he'd ever imagined could exist, perhaps even in dire peril of his virtual life, but that was no reason to go around completely uninformed. "Where are my Digimon?" asked Ken, flipping the tails of his cape to arrange them. "Wormmon, and Airdramon."
Chernomon stared at him a moment, and then burst out laughing again. "There is just no end to your audacity, is there?"
"What do you expect me to do, plead for my life? Don't insult me." The very idea made Ken feel queasy. If that was required to win this game, he might as well quit playing now, because he wouldn't do it.
"I expect nothing of the sort from my courageous Digimon Kaizer. Very well. The Wormmon is elsewhere in my complex. I really had no interest in either of your Digimon, but the Wormmon surrendered and insisted that he belongs with his master. The Airdramon is lurking somewhere outside, doubtless plotting another attack. He has been attacking off and on since we captured you. Quite a piece of loyalty you have there in both of them."
Ken scowled. Wormmon surrendered. He might have predicted something like that, but it was damned inconvenient. Not that the little bug would actually have been able to accomplish much in a rescue attempt, but he could at least have kept himself safe until Ken effected his own rescue. Now it looked like he'd have to rescue them both and that was just a bother. He moved on to his next priority.
"All right. So what do you want with me, exactly?"
Chernomon grinned, displaying a mismatch of teeth that would have made a dentist cry. "Why, I wanted to see the great and mighty Digimon Kaizer, who dares to claim to be the savior of the digital world while causing such terror in the Digimon around him."
"Great, you've seen me. Can I go now? I'm on a tight schedule and I have things I need to finish today."
Ken didn't really expect Chernomon to let him go with that, and he wasn't disappointed. "Ahh, my Kaizer, I fear not. Because you see, I know what you are up to, and I think I cannot allow it. I know that you seek to conquer the world itself, not merely save it. I listen to the fears that Digimon speak in their dreams, and the fear that a few are starting to speak is the Digimon Kaizer." A black ring appeared in Chernomon's hand. "You know what this is?"
"Of course I know what it is," said Ken. "I designed it." The throbbing in his head was beginning to subside down to an almost tolerable level, allowing Ken something resembling rational thought. It was starting to look like Chernomon was a would-be Dark Master, and opposed Ken as competition for the throne. Very well. He could deal with that, and it even made sense. None of the Digimon he'd encountered thus far were very dangerous, or even particularly intelligent. It only made sense that his antagonist would be both.
The Digimon's talons caressed the ring. "Indeed you did, but I am not convinced that you know what it is, simply because you brought it into being." Chernomon released the ring, and it hovered in mid-air between them. "Are you aware that others have made things similar to this before? A long time before you ever imagined that they were possible?"
"Yeah, some Virus on File Island. Ancient history. I couldn't even find any of the base code for the black gears, I had to start over from scratch."
"Devimon, yes. Much fear existed on File Island before the Digi-Destined arrived and slew Devimon, returning him to the beginning and forcing him to begin again. I recognize this new fear, for it is an old one, known to me since that time."
Ken, bored, hoped that Chernomon would get to the point soon, so that he could deal with this section of the game and move on to more interesting things. "That's fascinating. What does it have to do with me?"
"Digimon Kaizer," said Chernomon, his tone cool and almost kindly, "do you not know who I am?"
"You're Chernomon. Beyond that, no." Ken examined the hem of his cape a moment, displeased to find it slightly frayed. The wind had done that, probably. Disappointing.
"I am the gatekeeper. I am the guardian of the darkness, the bringer of suffering and destruction. The strongest mega Virus does nothing without my countenance, for although I have no strength of my own, all evil must pass through me before it can manifest in another. And while most Digimon fear me and hate me and wish I did not exist, I am yet their protector. I keep them safe from those evils which I deem they cannot bear."
Well, he had Ken's attention again. No wonder Chernomon was surprised that Ken wasn't quaking in fear. Not that he would have been anyway, but it made the Digimon's expectations more understandable. Conclusions were reached in Ken's mind. "So you brought me here because I didn't clear my plans with you first."
Chernomon smiled again. "I see we finally understand each other. Although many Virus Digimon are not aware that I exist, I know that they exist. What they do is mine to know, and their power comes from me. What you do is a mystery to me, and your power comes from elsewhere. This black ring, for instance. It was I who gave the power of the black gears to Devimon, yet I did not give it to you."
"Okay," said Ken. "Well, there's no real secret there."
"Indeed. Always before, when the Digi-Destined have arrived, it was to combat the evil that I allowed to be unleashed. This is the first time a Digi-Destined has brought his own evil with him." Chernomon reached out and caressed the black ring again. The lines of code on the outside of the ring glowed faintly, reacting to the presence of a Digimon.
"What?" Ken frowned. "Don't be stupid, I'm not evil."
"Are you not?" Chernomon smiled. "Recall that I am the gatekeeper. For as long as the digital world has existed, I have existed. I was the first, and I will be the last, and in all that time I have known much evil as I allowed it to move through me into the world. Do you think I do not know evil when I see it?"
Preposterous. "I'm Digi-Destined. I'm going to save your stupid world for you. Actually, I'll probably save it from you. Is that evil? I think not."
Chernomon went silent a moment, and his strangely pretty green eyes danced. "Perfect!" he breathed. "How wonderful, that you believe this! Tell me, are you a typical example of your people?"
"No." Ken scoffed. "There's only one Digimon Kaizer."
"And for that we may all be grateful. Yet that is not what I intended to ask. I meant, are you typical of your people, when you are in your own world?"
"I don't come to the digital world to talk about my own world. I come here to get away from it." Ken was starting to feel a lot better. His headache was slowly subsiding now that he had something else to think about, and as long as nothing pressed against his back that didn't hurt either. The embarrassing weakness in his muscles also felt like it was gradually going away, and the better he felt, the less patience he had with this weird Digimon. Questions about his home were just a bit too personal for his taste.
Chernomon nodded a bit. "You have many fears, Digimon Kaizer. You speak them in your dreams as clearly as any Digimon. Perhaps this is the source of your courage: having so much to fear from your own world, nothing in mine can compete."
Frowning, Ken said, "That's really none of your business." What impertinence. He didn't have to take this sort of thing from a Digimon, no matter who that Digimon was.
"But it is," said Chernomon, with a grandfatherly smile that only made his visage all that much more terrifying. "You bring with you an alien evil that I cannot stem as I will, and this places my world in a danger you cannot fathom. It would be best for me to slay you now, I think, before this ungovernable evil causes damage beyond repair." The winged Digimon by the door perked up at these words, and turned its gaze on Ken. "But," continued Chernomon, "you hold within you such a beautiful blend of pure innocence and sadistic cruelty that appeals to me. No Digimon displays such an interesting dichotomy. Can I bear to snuff that out? I wonder." The guardian Digimon heaved a silent sigh and went still again.
Ken attempted to focus his attention on Chernomon again, but couldn't quite do it. He was ready for the end of this scenario; he'd picked up the intended points and further speeches by Chernomon were only going to bore him. He made himself as comfortable as possible while Chernomon toyed with the hovering black ring and then finally tapped it with a claw to make it disappear altogether.
And, as Digimon went, Chernomon wasn't as intelligent as Ken had been first inclined to assume. Imagine, the thing actually thought that he, Ken, was evil! What amazing stupidity. Not even Wormmon, who was just about as incompetent as Digimon came, believed that. Sure, maybe the way Ken chose to go about winning the game was a bit on the unorthodox side, but he really didn't think that his choice of tactics in a computer game was an accurate gauge of his character. He was mildly disappointed, in fact, to find this Digimon resorting to a black and white, good versus evil argument in the first place. It was unimaginative.
Chernomon rose from his kneeling position, and Ken glanced at him to see if anything important was going to happen. Apparently so. Dripping newly-shed feathers, Chernomon gestured with one twisted hand. "Hold him."
Great. The huge Digimon by the door pounced back into the room, catching up Ken by the wrists like before, holding him upright with his arms spread out to either side. Just when Ken thought his headache was gone, being tossed on his feet again made it come back, and in spades. He winced and closed his eyes a moment, willing this incapacitating pain to go away. There was no point in fighting back, he could tell that he was in no condition to put up any kind of real resistance, and trying would just damage his dignity. Besides, he rather suspected that even on his best days he wouldn't be able to take down either of these Digimon. Not by himself, anyway. Now, with a black ring or two in his hand ...
Chernomon reached out toward Ken, talons spread. Ken drew back a bit despite himself, loathe to let those awful hands touch him. The Digimon holding him, however, had a tight grip on his forearms, and Chernomon's hands, creepy with four fingers on the left and six on the right, closed over his cheeks.
Ken's nostrils filled with a dry, disgusting scent, that vaguely reminded him of the time a mouse had died behind the refrigerator and had rotted some before being discovered and removed. It was similar to that, but fainter, drier, more metallic, and somehow more substantial, as if particles of something horrible were clotting in his nose. He snorted, trying to clear his nose, and turned his head to either side in an attempt to escape Chernomon's touch, which he felt sure was the source. The Digimon's hands tightened over his cheeks and jaws, and suddenly Ken was ripped apart.
Needles of fire streaked down every nerve, as if his skin were being peeled back from his flesh and his bones being split lengthwise. Ken's headache, a veritable leaf in the breeze, was shredded by this immense, excruciating, gale-force agony that burned through his veins down to his fingertips and back again. He lost consciousness of everything outside the pain; it blanked out sight, sound, and thought. Despite this, some detached portion of Ken, some part of him not drowning in a white sea of torturous pain, was aware that he was remembering.
Osamu falling ... so slowly ...
"Never say such a thing ever again! ..."
"What the hell's wrong with you, Ken? ..."
"... too young to understand ..."
"I'm sorry, Ken, did you say something? ..."
"Don't come here, we don't want you ..."
"Well, you're just going to have to cancel ..."
His brother's hand descending to crack across his cheek ...
"Don't even think that! ... "
"... not appropriate for a boy of your intelligence ..."
Standing in the rain, waiting for his mother to pick him up ...
"Stay here, Ken-chan ..."
"Look, it's that weird Ichijouji boy ..."
"Can you get your brother's autograph for me? ..."
Osamu falling ...
"You'll never be as good as your brother ..."
"I don't want to hear it, Ken ..."
His father's disappointment upon seeing his grades ...
"You'll just have to try harder ..."
"... said your brother died to get away from you ..."
Watching the other children play from afar ...
Osamu falling ...
"... never quite the boy Osamu was ..."
"You don't really think that Ken's like that ... "
A shadow cast over him from behind ...
Osamu falling ... so very slowly ...
"I didn't mean it!"
As if a switch had been flicked, the images ceased, and at the same instant the pain washed out of him, leaving him hanging heavily from the grip on his wrists, weak as a kitten. The echoes of desperate shrieks died out of the air while he panted to catch his breath. A voice spoke, and Ken was shifted, laid down on something soft but lumpy, and left mercifully alone to pass out.
------======*======------
Ken awoke to an awful taste in his mouth, a stiff neck, and the renewed pounding of his headache. Disoriented and confused, he lifted his head a bit and forced his eyes to open slightly, only to find himself looking at an expanse of rough stone. What was that? And where was he?
A bit of careful experimentation determined that yes, he could move. It just wasn't comfortable. He sat up, baffled by the violent trembling in his arms and hands, and stared in astonishment for maybe thirty seconds at his own gloved hand, held up in front of his eyes, shaking like a minor earthquake. Next, he looked around to find out a little more about where he was. Chernomon smiled benevolently from across the room, and as he reflexively flinched back from that face, Ken's memory suddenly returned.
He wiped a hand across his face, managing to smudge his glasses in the process. He used his annoyance at this to block out the involuntary terror of Chernomon that welled up at the sight of the repulsive Digimon, the impulse to back away. "What the hell did you do to me?" His voice sounded rough and gravelly; he wondered why until he realized that he must have been screaming his head off. Well. Shit.
"I apologize for the pain I caused you," said Chernomon, and he actually did sound sorry. "Had I been aware that you were carrying so much within you, I would never have done that."
"What do you mean?" Damn, his voice was shaking too. What the hell was that? Was that supposed to have happened? What was the rating on this game anyway? He felt so ... violated, defiled, and he found himself unconsciously drawing the folds of his cape close.
"I sought to understand the nature of the evil that you brought with you to the Digiworld. Now I do. I am only sorry that my understanding cost you so much." The tattered wings dipped, and Chernomon inclined his head.
"Okay, whatever." Ken shoved all of his doubts aside, anxious now to just get this over and done with. He obviously wasn't thinking very clearly right now, and he wasn't interested in dragging this out long enough for that to correct itself. And whatever happened, he did not want to have to re-do this. Ever. "Now what?"
"While you were recovering, I came to a decision. You may or may not be pleased with it, but I cannot help that either way."
Ken licked his lips, and discovered the split in his lip by the taste of blood leaking out of it. "Oh yeah? You going to share?"
"I will allow you to continue in what you plan, Digimon Kaizer, despite my knowledge that I will have no control over it. I do this because I understand now why you are as you are, and I do not believe that you will permit yourself to go too far."
"Thank you so much," said Ken.
"You are welcome." Chernomon, either oblivious to the sarcasm or choosing not to acknowledge it, answered quite seriously. "I have only one request to make of you."
"I knew there'd be a catch." Ken stretched an arm, and frowned disapprovingly at it.
"It is not a catch. You need not do this, although I think you will regret it if you do not. What I ask is this: as you are punishing the world for what you have been through, as you attempt to force the rest of the world to suffer as you have suffered, remember that it is not this world that has hurt you so much. And even your own world did not do it deliberately. Remember that others have been hurt as much as you, although not all cherish their hurts the way you do."
Ken eyed the Digimon. "Compassion? You're asking me to show compassion?"
"Why is that difficult for you to believe?"
"Heh. It's not difficult, it's just ironic. You're the gatekeeper of all the evil in the digital world or something, and you're preaching compassion. To me."
"Yes," said Chernomon. "You thought earlier that I could not recognize evil. Now you think I cannot know compassion. I told you that I am the gatekeeper, yet you seem not to understand what that means. It is by my will, and my will alone, that bad things happen in the Digiworld. And it is by my will alone that such things are stayed and evil holds its hand. I may take, but I also give. That is the side of my duty that so many fail to comprehend. You need fear no attack tomorrow by a Virus that slays you, for these things occur only with my permission. If I withhold my permission, you are safe. You see?"
The scary thing was that Ken did. "Yeah ... yeah, I do."
"I will protect you as I protect the Digimon, until you decide you no longer can be an instrument of evil. I will permit you to inflict your pain upon others until you realize that it doesn't lessen what you feel yourself. Perhaps one day I may change my mind, but I will warn you if I do. Until then, you will be the Digi-Destined of darkness, and you need fear only the opposition of those who always seek to oppose the darkness."
Ken grumbled to himself. He wasn't evil, or anything like that, and he couldn't understand why that was such a hard concept for this Digimon to grasp. Since when was trying to win the game considered evil? Seriously. His opinion of Chernomon's intelligence dropped even lower. "So is this conversation over yet? I wasn't kidding when I said I had things to do." He chose not to mention that he was beyond ready to get out of here, away from this Digimon and the awful thing he'd done.
"Yes, it is over. Need you aid in standing? My Velemon were not gentle in bringing you, and I fear my investigation was more traumatic than I had intended."
"I can manage." Actually, until he tried it, Ken wasn't sure he could stand up on his own, but he was determined not to show further weakness to these Digimon. After a false start, he got to his feet, and although he felt very wobbly, he also managed to stay there.
"I will reunite you with your Wormmon, and have you escorted outside. I feel certain your Airdramon will be around eventually to pick you up."
"Gee, thanks." His thoughts jumping ahead, Ken wondered how long he'd spent unconscious. He might have to go straight home so he'd have time to study for his test. That would be annoying, but on the other hand, it would give him something to occupy his mind so he wouldn't dwell on ... this.
Chernomon said seriously, "You are welcome." He glanced at the hulking Digimon next to the door and nodded. "Make sure he gets his Wormmon, and then take him outside. Carry him. I do not believe him strong enough to walk all the way."
The big Velemon nodded once, and its cold talons closed over Ken once again, picking him up with great care and carrying him sprawled along one arm. Sighing, Ken let himself be carried, not ungrateful but not exactly pleased either. He passed through more featureless corridors, starting to feel drowsy again now that nothing was actively holding his attention. He closed his eyes, telling himself that he wasn't going to go to sleep, just rest his eyes for a second.
Stupid Digimon. Sometimes, dealing with this Digi-Destined thing was just too much trouble. Ken would go through the motions when he had to, but truth be told, he wasn't really all that interested in saving the digital world. Conquering the world was a valid method, he felt, of rescuing it from whatever threatened it; that way, whatever this great darkness was that the legends bespoke would have to more or less come to him. However, honesty demanded that he admit that this wasn't the only reason he wanted to do it. Not anymore.
In the real world, demands were constantly made on him. He went where he was told, he said what he was told to say, he bowed to those he was told deserved it. He spent much of his time doing things he'd rather skip, because if he didn't do them he couldn't excel in everything. And it was vital that he excel in everything. Osamu had excelled in everything, and now Osamu was gone, leaving Ken to pick up the pieces of his brother's life. But here ... here there was no shadow looming over him. The only demands on his time were ones he chose for himself. Here, he could finally be the master of his own destiny.
And there had been a definite thrill in hearing dozens of Digimon call his name.
"Master!" An all-too-familiar voice shook him awake. "What'd you do to him!?" Opening his eyes, he found the stoic Velemon that was carrying him under assault from tiny Wormmon. Thank God he didn't call me Ken or Ken-chan in front of these Digimon, he thought wearily. I owe him for that, at least.
"Cut it out, Wormmon," he said. "I'm fine. In fact, I'm leaving and you're coming with me."
"Leaving?" Wormmon seemed quite stunned by this for a moment. "They're letting us go?"
"Of course they're letting us go. Will you stop it? I'm tired and the sooner I finish this, the sooner I can get home and study and get to sleep." Really, sometimes Wormmon's programmed stupidity irritated him no end.
The big Digimon started moving again, and Ken was relieved to see Wormmon falling into step behind it. The corridor here had a steep upward slope, and it wasn't long at all before Ken could see dim blue light at the end of the tunnel.
Guarded by two of these Velemon, the final corridor let out at the base of a mountain. Ken frowned when he noted that it was night already; he'd probably missed dinner, and that was annoying. If he'd known that this section would take so long, he would have started it earlier in the day. There should be warnings to that effect before anything that would take all day to complete.
There definitely ought to be warnings in front of anything that was going to hurt that bad.
Ken was set down, on his feet, just outside the lip of the tunnel. Down a short but steep slope of craggy broken rock, the beginnings of a forest were just visible in the darkness. Turning around, Ken could see a sheer cliff rising up into the night. Then the Digimon behind him spoke, for the first time since Ken had first awoken.
"Do not attempt to return here," it hissed. Although, like Chernomon, there was no malice at all in this Digimon, its voice was quite unpleasant. "If you try, we will kill you, and Chernomon does not wish this. So don't come back."
"Sure, no problem, whatever." Ken waved dismissively at the Velemon, although Wormmon shuddered and huddled around his feet. The thing hissed wordlessly and turned to creep back down the corridor into the underground complex.
There was a rush of wind around Ken, and Airdramon was suddenly hovering right overhead. "You got out!" he said. "How did you get away?"
"They let us go," said Wormmon. "I can't believe we got out of there alive, but they let us go!"
"Stop acting like it's such a big production," said Ken, tired of this already. "Come down here so I can get up on you."
Airdramon obliged, alighting on the ground and coiling himself up so that Ken could clamber up onto his head. Normally it wasn't such an issue, but Ken felt hurt and tired and didn't have the energy right now to vault on up. Airdramon's eyes rolled in wonder.
After both passengers were secure, Airdramon launched himself back into the air under the watchful gaze of the two Velemon at the tunnel entrance. Ken leaned against the Digimon's horn, feeling tired enough to sleep for a week. He couldn't afford to sleep until he finished studying for his science test, though, and he especially couldn't afford to drift off while mounted on Airdramon's head, so he kept himself awake by remembering the sound of his chosen new name, shouted out by a crowd of Digimon. He was sure that this experience with Chernomon was going to bring back the nightmares, but just for a little while, remembering the sound of that cheer, Ken felt at peace.