A/Ns: This chapter takes place roughly one year after the first chapter; roughly four years after the end of season two.

Disclaimers and warnings hold true from chapter one.

OoOoOoO

Chapter 2:

Introducing the Darkly Destined

OoOoOoO

"Lord Azulongmon!" An angelic champion-level Digimon, D'Archmon, flew to her master in an apparent state of panic.

The Sovereign Digimon glanced up. He had been conversing with Gennai, and was not used to being interrupted, but he was also not used to seeing his servants so distressed.

"Please excuse me," he murmured to Gennai, who nodded his assent. "What is it, D'Archmon?"

"The Dark Digivices," she said breathlessly, "they've located human owners! They've just gone into the human world!"

Instantly, Gennai was on his feet, and Azulongmon was alarmed. "How could that be possible? They were sealed within Corrupted Data!"

"I don't know," D'Archmon admitted. "But I sensed them go, just now. I came to you right away."

"As you ought," Gennai told her, his voice grim. "If that is the case, the children they chose will be summoned to Corrupted Data very soon. I will go alert the DigiDestined; they should be able to help with this."

"No," Azulongmon countered. "Not yet. D'Archmon," he addressed his servant, "as one of the few Digimon able to pass into that dark dimension, I ask that you do all in your power to stop the corrupted children before they can bring forth any of the evil Digimon trapped within Corrupted Data. Bring them before me, but do them no harm; they did not choose this fate for themselves."

"And their Digimon partners, sir?" D'Archmon asked.

"Capture them if you can, but destroy them if you cannot."

D'Archmon bowed. "It will be as you wish, my lord." With that, she turned and flew off.

"Azulongmon," Gennai began with a troubled look, "the DigiDestined should be warned."

"Warned, yes." Azulongmon fixed a stern eye on Gennai. "Involved, no. Not yet. I do not want them hurt more than they have to be, and they should spend as little time as possible in that accursed realm, the holders of Light and Kindness especially."

"Ken and Kari," Gennai sighed. "Very well, I shall warn them of the danger and potential need for their assistance – but I will tell them to stay out of it unless D'Archmon fails."

"Thank you."

OoOoOoO

Itaro Kouki shifted impatiently, rubbing his arms. Where was his mother? She should have been here to pick him up from school fifteen minutes ago. He wandered the building, scowling. Why was she late? Why was she always late? They lived ten minutes' drive from the school!

Itaro supposed he could walk home, but he hated walking home. It made him uncomfortable to do so, and besides, it'd been so cold recently.

He ran a hand through his messy black hair, dark eyes darting around the hallway before focusing on watching the parking lot from the windows again. He could be waiting outside, but it was cold enough indoors; besides, he didn't want to. There were other people inside (including a group of people in the computer lab, a few of whom were in his class), and no one at all outside. It was better to be inside.

There was a soft whoosh sound from within the computer lab behind him. Itaro rubbed the back of his neck, which felt slightly sore all of a sudden. That happened sometimes; shortly after his fifteenth birthday about a year ago, he'd reacted badly to a bee sting on the back of his neck, and had been in the hospital for nearly a week. Oddly, he hadn't known he was allergic to bees before that, but he'd been avoiding them since. Sometimes, his neck still felt sore, but he had learned to mostly ignore it.

The sound of peoples' voices had stopped. Itaro looked nervously over his shoulder at the closed computer lab door. Had everyone left while he had been lost in thought? How bizarre. He hadn't heard them leave...

Curious, he peeked carefully through the window in the door.

The room was empty! They had left. But how? Itaro knew he hadn't heard anything.

Weirded out but unwilling to investigate, Itaro shook his head and backed away from the door, turning back towards the window to watch for his mother.

A soft slushing sound behind him. He shivered, and glanced over his shoulder again. For a moment, he thought he saw waves, but then it blurred and was gone.

He was trembling nonstop now, but he could no longer tell if it was from fear and anxiety, or from excitement and a lingering sense of expectation.

His vision blurred. Everything looked gray. Something black and glowing rose to hover in front of him. Subconsciously, instinctively, he reached for it. He flinched as a searing pain raced through his nerves, stemming from the back of his neck. Nevertheless, his hand inched forwards, toward the glowing thing, as if it had a will of its own.

His fingers brushed against the floating object, and then his world went dark.

OoOoOoO

Zuma Masuko leaned his elbows on the table, steepled his fingers, and raised an eyebrow. His expression was icy and unamused – his "business face," his manager would call it, laughing nervously. Zuma didn't really like his manager, nor did he like the two people he was sitting across from now. In fact, he didn't like anyone.

Zuma had hit puberty early for his sex and so, at thirteen, was tall and mature-looking, but with a clear, childish complexion and slim frame. He had wavy, shoulder-length chestnut-colored hair, and frosty blue eyes. Eurasian and beautiful, Zuma had been a child model since he was eight.

Being rich and famous, Zuma felt he was entitled to a few more of the commodities of life than most children his age.

Control over his parents, for instance. Well – his mother and her boyfriend of the month, actually. And when they rebelled against that control, it was an inconvenience for Zuma, which was why he was displeased now.

"I really don't care what your reasons are, or what you think you need," Zuma said in a soft voice that was an ill-disguised sneer. "My money is mine and mine alone, and I don't want to hear of your spending it without my permission. Otherwise," and now he leaned back against the couch, hands clasped at the back of his head, eyes half-lidded, "I may just make public some... incriminating information."

His mother – weak, pathetic woman that she was – bit her lower lip and looked down. The boyfriend glared balefully at Zuma, but said nothing.

There was really nothing they could do, either, because Zuma was very good at staying in control of the situation. He had several "friends" to whom he paid a nice sum, so that if Zuma ever felt the need to (falsely) accuse his mother and her beau of the moment of child molestation, they would be his "witnesses." Zuma was such a widely-adored celebrity, no one would take the word of an often-drunk too-young mother and her trashy lover over Zuma's and his paid support.

Funny how a ploy he never would have dreamed of a year ago gave him such a grim satisfaction concocting, now.

"So do dispose of whatever nasty sex toys you bought with my money," Zuma said with a trace of boredom, twirling a strand of hair around his index finger, "and there'd better not be a similar lapse in the future." He stood, made a show of tossing his hair over his shoulder, and strode from the room.

"Dammit, Kimiko," he heard the boy-toy snarl at his mother as he walked down the hall, "why do you let that stuck-up brat push you around?"

"I'm sorry, Tetsu," she sobbed.

She was always crying recently, Zuma noted, his upper lip curling in disgust as he moved out of hearing range. Really, what a pathetic, sniveling little woman his mother was –

A wave of dizziness overcame him, stopping him in his tracks. He blinked, trying to clear his head. Had everything gone gray for a minute? He could have sworn he'd seen black mountains...

But no, he was imagining things. How irritating. He rubbed the back of his neck, absently trying to soothe his discomfort. Really, who'd ever heard of a gray landscape with black mountains, anyway?

A black light flashed; something small and glowing hung in mid-air before him. Then, pain like Zuma had never known racked his body. He yelled, then clenched his teeth against the fire in his nerves.

He heard the servants (and his mother?) come running, but he never saw them. He only felt that this terrible, mind-blowing pain would go away if he took the thing floating in front of him.

Trembling, angry, Zuma lashed out and snatched it.

Blackness engulfed him.

OoOoOoO

Sukiko Hideki lay on her four-poster bed, absently leafing through a preppy magazine. She utterly despised such things, but she was bored and all she had that was actually interesting were voodoo dolls, which were no fun because they didn't work.

At fourteen, she was a girl who might be considered mildly pretty if her expression weren't perpetually sour. Her black hair was slightly scruffy, and she often kept it tied back in a ponytail. Her eyes were a hard gray that expressed disdain very well – which they were doing now, as they scanned one of the articles gushing over some celebrity (thankfully not her mother, which would have been embarrassing in addition to disgusting). She preferred to dress plainly, but her clothes were all high-quality; after all, her family was wealthy.

However, another effect of having a lot of money was boredom.

"This is stupid," she groused to herself, sitting up and chucking the magazine across the room.

The sound of the classy apartment's door opening alerted her to the return of her father. She knew it was her father, because her mother made a lot more of a ruckus coming and going. Sukiko sighed, and turned on the TV in her room, so she could pretend not to have heard.

A knock at the door, and then Rinsuke Hideki, Sukiko's father, entered the room.

"Hi, baby," he smiled, kissing her head. "How was school today?"

"Fine," Sukiko deadpanned without looking away from the TV.

Her father's smile faded momentarily, and then returned at full caliber. "That's nice. I'm about to start dinner; what would you like?"

"Food," she responded unhelpfully, ignoring him more pointedly. Why didn't he go away, already?

"Food it is," was Rinsuke's lame attempt at humor. "I'll call you when it's ready." He paused, obviously hoping for Sukiko to stop giving him the cold shoulder.

Sukiko didn't – and hadn't, for the past year or so. "Sure," she said, with a hint of impatience now.

When she said nothing more, Rinsuke left the room.

Sukiko shot a contempt-filled glance at the closed door, then flicked her eyes back to the TV screen.

She watched whatever show was on without really paying attention to it. After a few minutes, she started to notice that the temperature seemed to be dropping. She frowned, and stood, moving to her dresser. She took out a blue sweater and pulled it on. Being cold on top of bored was so not her idea of fun.

But it kept getting colder... and was it her, or was her room slightly more colorless than usual?

Starting at the base of her neck, liquid fire slid down her veins. Breath hissing out between her teeth, Sukiko fell to her knees, hugging herself. What the hell was that?

Something hanging just above her drew her eyes; Sukiko squinted up at it. Whatever it was, it was small, dark, and glowing, and she had the craziest instinct to reach out and snatch it.

Within seconds, the instinct became a driving need; Sukiko obediently reached towards it.

When she touched it, she blacked out.

OoOoOoO

Yumi Takashi carefully reapplied her mascara and eyeshadow, then moved on to lipstick. All of it was black, of course. Yumi had found that if she dressed in the "gothic" style, people looked at her more often. She enjoyed the attention, and didn't particularly care (if she even knew) that people called her "slut" behind her back.

She fluffed her bleached pigtails, combing through them briefly with her fingers. Yumi beamed at the mirror, picked up her purse, and left the bathroom.

Yumi was very happy with her life. She never watched the news, so she didn't know or care what state the rest of the world was in. She paid attention in school, and tried her very best, and since she put her best effort in, she didn't care that she got mostly D's and F's; she was content in knowing that she had tried. And if her grades were slightly worse now than they were a year ago, well, brain failure could be part of being a teenager. She was seventeen now, so in three years, when she turned twenty, she would be better at schoolwork again.

"I'm going out, Mom," she called over her shoulder as she left the apartment.

"Be back by ten-thirty, sweetie," Mrs Takashi responded idly, not taking her eyes off the TV.

Another thing that made Yumi happy about her life was her stable family situation. Her father worked and her mother cooked and cleaned; basically everything about her home life screamed "normal."

Yumi was happy it was that way. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her family, not in the slightest. Nope. Everything fine here, folks.

Yumi's brain stopped there, content with that thought the way it stood and not particularly wanting to progress with it any further. It skipped to being curious about the movie she was going to see that evening.

The movie theatre was packed when she got there. She had to wait in line for twenty minutes, and the movie was already starting by the time she was able to squeeze into a seat in the back corner of the theatre. Still, Yumi didn't mind. It was an adventure, of sorts. She giggled to herself, because that thought was funny – the movie she was seeing was about an adventure, so thinking about an adventure was sort of an inside joke.

The movie got off to a good start, but Yumi found it difficult to enjoy it. It was colder in the theatre than she had expected, especially since it was so packed. She started to wish she had brought a coat.

Then, the back of her neck started to hurt. Yumi rubbed it absently, trying to stay focused on the movie. Except then, the sound seemed to stop. And the movie froze where it was, too. Everything went gray.

Yumi looked around, confused. She was the only one moving. She was about to poke the guy next to her and ask what was going on, when a blinding pain worse than anything she'd ever felt flooded her body. She screamed and curled in on herself.

This wasn't happy or fun! She whimpered quietly, closed her eyes, and hoped desperately that the pain would go away.

Was something moving in front of her? She cracked an eye open to peek up and see. Yes, there was a little black beeping thing, hovering right in the air. How was it doing that?

Curious, she grabbed at it.

She didn't even have enough time to scream again before she blacked out.

OoOoOoO

Keiko Hanasu watched the tennis court, bored yet still interested enough to keep watching the game. It being Sunday afternoon, it wasn't an official practice, and most of the young women playing were from the senior class that had just graduated. Keiko would have graduated with them, but there had been complications regarding what grade she should be put in when her family had moved to Japan eight years ago, and she had ended up a grade below the rest of her age group because of it. Not that it mattered.

As it happened, the game was just ending, and so Keiko waited to meet up with her friends who had been playing.

"Great game," she told them with enough enthusiasm that it sounded sincere.

The others smiled and thanked her. Entering into the topic of the latest gossip, the group started to move forward.

"I'll catch up with you later," Keiko said, staying where she was. "Catch up with you later, 'kay?"

The girls nodded assent and murmured the appropriate response like trained dogs. Then, at last, they left.

Keiko waited a moment more, leaning against the fence enclosing the court. She craned her neck to watch the entrance of the girls' locker room, pink-tipped purple hair falling into her green eyes. American-born, Keiko was at least a head taller than the other girls her age. She took part in her fair share of athletics, and so she stayed in shape.

Spotting the girl she was waiting for leave the locker room, she smiled. Sora Takenouchi, newly-graduated tennis star and co-creator (not to mention voice actor) for the new hit TV series called "Digimon."

Most people believed that events that had taken place both four and eight years ago had been part of that production of said TV series before the producers decided to change it and have it be an animated series, but sometimes, Keiko wondered. Because she wondered, she kept her eye on anyone associated with the TV show.

Keiko watched Sora meet up with her friend, Tai Kamiya, who sometimes walked her home from tennis practices. She stayed a moment more after they were gone, then snorted quietly to herself and left.

Keiko tucked her hands into her jean pockets as she walked. Outwardly, she was a classy, smiling eighteen-year-old, charming and friendly – not to mention intelligence. In actuality, she was a shrewd and conniving young woman with more than a hint of malice. Manipulative to her core, she was good at getting what she wanted, and this would be no different.

For no reason other than pure instinct, Keiko believed the so-called "Digital World" actually existed, and she would like nothing better than to set its inhabitants free in the human world.

Then, perhaps, some chaos would bring changes to her boring day-to-day reality, and it would be fun to be alive for once.

Keiko paused, realizing that while she had been lost in thought, the world had slowed and gone gray around her. A tremor went through her, something that felt like liquid fire sliding down her veins. It might have hurt, but a chillingly still pool of darkness had collected around her, and it numbed whatever pain there would have been.

Therefore, Keiko had her wits about her when a dark, glowing object began to drift slowly in front of her.

A digivice, her mind supplied the term for it, like from the Digimon TV show.

This was just the opportunity she'd been waiting for.

She smiled as she reached out and took it.

OoOoOoO

Hiiro Doumei sat in the bleachers of his school's basketball court, doing homework. Except for him, the gymnasium was empty; he preferred working when it was quiet, and with two younger brothers and an older sister at home, it was hardly ever quiet there.

A year ago, Hiiro would have procrastinated on his homework, putting it off as much as possible. Over the past year, though, he'd slowly gotten better at school, and now he was one of the best kids in the class. His new intellectual skills had come at a price, however – his social skills. Oh, sure, he'd hang out with friends sometimes, but he very quickly became uncomfortable with them, and always ended up ditching them right when they really wanted to be with him. It wasn't long before no one was willing to spend time with him.

Hiiro played idly with his pencil, brow knit with concern. He really shouldn't have let that happen, but it almost felt like he couldn't help it; like it was out of his control.

I'm sixteen, he thought tiredly to himself, so why can't I seem to stay friends with anyone?

He sighed, running his fingers through his spiky brown hair, hazel eyes struggling to remain fixed on his homework. Giving up, he stretched his lanky body and stood. He'd finished with all the homework that was due tomorrow, and he'd have a chance to finish the rest at home that evening. Sitting on cold bleachers for an hour or so, as he had just done, made him sore.

Was someone watching him? He looked up at the rafters, where he thought he felt someone staring at him from.

Was that a flash of white? It was gone too quickly; he couldn't be sure. But the feeling of being watched was gone, so he shook his head, gathered up his homework and school things, and left the gym.

As he walked, it seemed to grow colder. Hiiro frowned, shifting his bag to the other shoulder.

Yes, it was definitely getting colder. The back of his neck was heating up, though. That was so bizarre. Was he getting sick?

The world around him slowly dulled, and grew gray and fuzzy. Hiiro stopped completely now, and looked around. Something was wrong.

Pain seared through him. He yelled, dropping his bag as he fell to his knees, hands flying to the back of his neck.

"Wha – what the hell?" he gasped, flinching at the pain he felt.

A flash of black light, so fast he wasn't sure he'd even seen it. Something hummed as it hovered in front of him, black and glowing.

He squinted at it. Was it beeping?

The undeniable urge to reach for it swept over him; he gave in without a thought.

Pure and utter darkness swallowed him before he could scream.

OoOoOoO

Takori Kaboshi sat on his bed in his room, staring out the window at nothing.

His dark eyes were dull and lifeless; his tousled black hair was tangled and greasy with neglect. His body was slightly malnourished; he only ate when food was placed in front of him, and even then he didn't usually eat all of it.

The doctor had described him as "lost within his own mind." It was an apt description.

Because he was not a danger to himself or others, he had not been admitted to a mental institution, though he had weekly appointments with a psychiatrist.

He had been this way for nearly a year, and barely spoken one word during that time period. He hadn't spoken at all for the last three months.

Takori was in the pits of despair.

When the world stilled and grayed around him, he didn't notice.

When a coldness unlike any other filled him, he ignored it.

When the dark device appeared, glowing and floating before him, there was no pain; only an intensifying feeling of darkness.

Takori slowly turned his head so that he faced the hovering thing. He regarded it without thought or feeling for a long minute, and then slowly, painfully slowly, extended his hand and brushed the device gently with his fingers.

The darkness surrounded him, but he didn't care.

OoOoOoO

Ryuki Inajima examined the new world around him. He had come here when he had touched a mysterious glowing black object that had appeared before him. He still had it now, and upon further examination, it was a black device with red buttons, identical to the "digivices" from the TV show called Digimon except in coloring.

He had woken to find himself in this world of grays, and as he walked around and explored, he felt as if he belonged here more than he ever had anywhere else, especially in the past year.

The creature who had introduced himself as BlackGatomon walked on all-fours beside him, expression unreadable. He'd said nothing else, so Ryuki had deduced on his own that he was in some demented version of Digimon's "Digital World."

As they came to a stream, Ryuki paused to examine his reflection. So, if something had color, it was dimmed here, but not totally erased, he noticed as he tucked a strand of his mid-back-length black hair behind his ear, green eyes narrowed. The fifteen-year-old turned from the stream and continued on in another direction.

He held the digivice in his hand, watching the screen. He figured it represented itself with a red dot, for that was what moved as he moved when he turned it on.

There were seven more red dots scattered about.

Ryuki moved towards the closest one, BlackGatomon silent at his side.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

A/Ns: D'Archmon is not an original Digimon; look her up on Google Image Search if you want a better idea of what she looks like.

I hope all the introductions to the Darkly Destined went alright; it may or may not be apparent, but it was difficult to come up with something original for each one.

The Dark Spores, as you probably noticed, do not affect everyone the same way. They are changing the Darkly Destined at different paces to suit the dark crests; as each dark crest is different, each Spore will change their host in a different way. Keiko and Takori's Spores, for instance, have made much faster progress than the others. That's why they didn't feel the pain that accompanied everyone else on their trip to Corrupted Data. This will be explained more when it comes up in the story. But just so you know – no, not all Dark Spores make you smarter and more athletic, or even make you completely evil. That's what Ken's did. The children Oikawa put Dark Spores in did the same thing because they were copies of Ken's, and so did the same thing.

I hope this makes sense. Please feel free to ask questions if there's anything you're confused about.