Chapter 3: Her Eyes
He remembered being quite young and looking at it longingly. The beautiful sphere in the sky: what some called the Promised Land.
What was it like there? There were so many myths about it, how going there would make you stronger. And as a Digimon, all he wanted was to become stronger. Without strength, you are nothing in the Digital World. You would stay in one place and live out a meaningless existence until someone had the nerve to kill you off and load your data. What kind of a life was that? Not one he ever intended to live. So he fought his way to the top of his evolution line, though it took longer than he would like to admit. He spent his younger days killing off whoever he could, and his nights in agony from all the wounds he would receive in the process. He was completely desperate to make a name for himself, which is what he ended up doing by becoming a Demon Lord. There was no other choice for a Digimon anyway. Your fate was to fight or to die.
But still, it hung there in the sky, a constant reminder of what could be. Supposedly, living there means that there are other things you can do besides fight. There are other things to accomplish, and all sorts of things to aspire to than just being strong. Even if strength is what you desired, it was much easier to obtain there if you were able to find a human partner. But something like that hasn't happened in who knows how long. Humanity had forgotten the Digimon long ago. It is said that most humans don't even know Digimon exist.
The so-called "key" that allowed the Real World, or the Promised Land, and the Digital world to interact had been removed and hidden away some time ago, for reasons that remain unknown. Digimon could still go there, but they could not take on a physical form, since something was amiss with the gate. The Digimon who had forcedly biomerged with humans could only do so since they were wandering packets of data. They were Digimon who were so desperate for strength that they broke through the gate and consumed whatever human they could find. He never would have done something that foolish, no matter how easily you gained strength from doing so.
Humans, on the other hand, couldn't cross through at all, since they were flesh and blood. Lucemon's soldiers could only bring back the prisoners since they were partially data. And once his soldiers returned from the other world, they would lose energy or perhaps degenerate, something that was humiliating for a Digimon to have to undergo.
In present day, the Digimon had no problems with the absence of humanity. Most had simply given up on the Promised Land, accepting that all contact with it had been lost. Humans turned their backs on Digimon, so the Digimon turned their backs on humans. Or, at least, that is what he decided to do…
"Falling asleep so early into the day?"
Beelzemon quickly opened his eyes and sprang upward, realizing he had dozed off. He shook his head, clearing his mind of the dream he had sunk so deep into, regaining consciousness once more. After a long night guarding cell thirteen, he had been having some difficulty staying awake the entire next day. The last thing he remembered was being in an exhausted daze, and collapsing onto a chair in front of an open window, enjoying the breeze from outside. He had let himself become lost in thought, and only wanted to let his eyes close for a moment, but it seems that moment had become quite a long time. Lucemon was eyeing him carefully from the doorway of his quarters.
"Did standing near its cell really take so much out of you? I'm surprised," Lucemon said condescendingly, addressing him once more.
"Yeah, I'd like to see what you'd look like after planting your ass on a rock-hard floor all night," Beelzemon grumbled, prying his tired body from the comfort of his chair. He heaved a sigh, stretching out his arms. "And I'd really like to see how great you'd feel after putting up with its blabbering."
This piece of information caught Lucemon's attention. "It spoke to you?"
He rolled his eyes, recalling their brief conversation from the night before. "Yeah, it spoke alright. All kinds of idiotic nonsense." He walked towards the doorway that Lucemon stood near, still stretching his long arms. "It kept goin' on about how annoying my voice was, but I'm really not such a bad guy overall, because it could 'see the energy around me'." He laughed at the thought of these ridiculous statements. The prisoner in cell thirteen was a whole different kind of crazy than the others.
Lucemon put his hand to his chin, thinking carefully about Beelzemon's encounter with the prisoner. It was somewhat concerning to him. "It is possible that since the prisoner cannot trick you with its eyes, it will trick you with its voice." He gave Beelzemon a serious expression, his hand leaving his chin. "Do not listen to a word it says, Beelzemon. It will feed you whatever lies it can come up with to turn you against everything you believe in."
Beelzemon chuckled, still stretching his lengthy arms. "You know, you give this thing way too much credit."
Lucemon shook his head. "At this point, I cannot put anything past it." He recalled in his mind the four times it had gotten the best of his guards. The first time, he had not let it get to him. It just seemed like a simple mistake, one that could not be helped. How could he have known that it had such different abilities? But even with increased security, it still managed to find available loopholes. Now its presence was nothing but trouble. It was marring his reputation. This was something that could not be permitted.
"Well, it's not going to outsmart me, you can count on that," Beelzemon boasted, a prideful grin spreading across his face. He had assumed that the prisoner would try to do this already. He figured he had nothing to worry about, and was many steps ahead of its puny mind.
Lucemon's mood suddenly sank, becoming rather gloomy after recollecting his failures. He was no longer in the mood to chat. "Well, it seems to be about that time," he said in a low tone, turning away from Beelzemon. "Do you need me to show you the location of the cell once more, or can you manage on your own?"
Beelzemon groaned, the grin vanishing from his face. His shoulders drooped as his mind foreshadowed the discomfort he would have to endure for the remainder of the night. He had spent all his free time napping, now having none for himself. It seemed as though he had just returned from the prison. "Nah, I'll get to it eventually. It's not like a giant steel block will be hard to find or anything." He grumbled to himself, sluggishly making his way out the doorway, an unenthusiastic slump in his posture. He lugged his feet to the center of the castle, where the spiraling stairs begun. This routine was already getting old.
"Excuse me… are you Beelzemon? The one guarding cell thirteen?" a voice asked from behind him.
Beelzemon spun around to see an Ogremon standing a small distance away, staring at him with apprehension. He truly was a hideous sight; with long, burly arms and a bulky form colored in an unpleasant green. His mouth was large and agape, showing a full set of crooked teeth. His hair was white and unruly, reaching a good distance down his back.
Beelzemon peered at him with slight curiosity. "Yeah, that's me. What of it?"
Ogremon's bulging eyes darted about the ground nervously. It took all of his courage to say two words to Beelzemon, who was of such a higher class than he. "I… well, I used to work just outside the prison… I helped build gates around the castle… but well, I'm forbidden now…"
Beelzemon sighed, his curiosity immediately fading. He was becoming impatient with Ogremon's stuttering. "Look, if you've got nothing good to say, then I don't wanna hear it. Now, if you don't mind, I got places to be." He turned back around and started down the stairs, but Ogremon followed him eagerly, still trying to spit out what he had to say. Beelzemon kept his gaze in front of him, despite his chatter. Perhaps if he ignored Ogremon long enough, he would give up trying and leave him be.
"I just… well, you see… All I wanted to ask you was… well… um…" He fumbled through his vocabulary, but his nerves were getting the better of him. He began to feel regretful for bringing this up.
Beelzemon's patience grew thinner. He kept walking, not wanting to turn around and give this creature any more time out of his day. "I really don't like being followed. So scram." He picked up his pace, hoping to escape the Digimon who was still lurking close behind him, like a stray dog begging for food.
"I was forbidden because I was one of the workers she possessed!" Ogremon suddenly blurted.
Beelzemon stopped walking, the subject suddenly catching his interest. He turned his head to face the Digimon, who was a few steps behind him, panting after attempting to keep up with his quick pace. Perhaps he had something worthwhile to share after all. He had been interested in knowing more about what he was up against.
"Explain to me," he began, "how does it get a hold of your mind?" He began walking again, keeping a slower pace, expecting Ogremon to follow.
Ogremon excitedly rushed down the stairs next to Beelzemon, seeing his inquiry as an invitation to walk with him. Beelzemon towered over him in all his glory, just shy of being twice his height. He felt that it was an honor to walk next to an Ultimate Level Digimon, especially a Demon Lord.
"I'm not sure I can explain it in a way anyone can understand… She beckoned me from the window while I was chopping wood one night, and I took the bait. She said she knew me from somewhere… The last thing I remember clearly is her eyes." His face suddenly saddened. "And then… it was like I had known her my whole life."
Beelzemon studied him as he spoke, observing how uneasy and jittery he was. "You knew her…?"
"Yes! All these memories came into my head… like she had been a part of my life for years. A childhood friend." His eyes softened, recalling the said false memories. They still felt so real, even though the effect was starting to fade off. The feelings they had together, and all the things she had said to him, they were crystal clear in his mind as if they had just happened not too long ago."So I just had to let her out of the cell, you see? I thought a good friend of mine had been wrongly imprisoned, and needed my help." He sighed, feeling a bit better after getting this off his chest.
Beelzemon nodded, though he was still a bit perplexed. The story was absolutely absurd, and yet utterly fascinating. Lucemon never did give him any details about what was in cell thirteen. He had only heard rumors from other Digimon and complaints from guards, and bits of information from various banter around the castle. To meet someone who had seen it up close was a good way to find out more. He continued his interrogation.
"So then what's so special about her eyes? What do they look like?"
"Black," he stated simply, still appearing to be absolutely devastated by the whole matter, "Completely black. Like a bottomless pit. "
"So she's turned into a monster or something?" Its appearance was probably the thing he was the most curious about.
"I couldn't say." He sighed again, a feeling of embarrassment overcoming him. "The figure I see in my memories is of a young human girl, but…" He gulped, his gaze shifting slightly. "You see, as soon as I ran down into the prison and opened the cell, she hit me over the head before I could get a good look at her. So who knows what she is now. Maybe the girl in my memories isn't even what she once looked like." He laughed nervously, realizing how much of a fool he was making of himself.
Beelzemon laughed at his confession, but gave no comment. Lucemon should have expected it to get away if he put idiots like this on duty near the prison cells. He felt satisfied with the amount of knowledge he had obtained from Ogremon, and walked further ahead of him, meaning to signal to him that he no longer wished to speak. Ogremon, however, was a bit too dense to pick up on anything subtle.
They were reaching the end of the stairway. The heat crept up through the atmosphere, choking out the fresh air, a horrible smell coming along with it. Ogremon knew he was no longer allowed in or around the prison, so he slowed his steps to elongate the time he was able to engage Beelzemon in conversation, though it seemed to have taken a turn for the worst.
"And, so you see," Ogremon continued, "I was banished from my position for releasing the prisoner. I'd like to think that it wasn't my fault… but I guess it wasn't the best idea for me to have listened to a word she said in the first place." He caught himself before he stepped onto the prison floor, but Beelzemon continued forward for a few steps into the corridor. He realized quickly that Ogremon's footsteps were no longer audible along with his, and turned around to face him. He stood feebly at the base of the stairs, the last streams of light hitting his back. From the look of guilt on his face, he had a silent understanding that Ogremon was not supposed to be in this area. Beelzemon's first instinct was to continue on his way, but there was one more thing he wanted to pry out of him.
"I guess I gotta ask," Beelzemon began again, "Why made you tell me all this? What's is got to do with me?" He eyed Ogremon suspiciously. His confessions felt a bit out of place, and quite uncalled for. He questioned his true intentions.
"Well, uh… I actually wanted to ask you something…"
"Yeah? What is it?"
"Well…" He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the reprimanding he would receive for his next account. "I wanted to know how she is doing."
Beelzemon gave him a strange look following his request. "You've gotta be kidding me." He scanned Ogremon's face, hoping to see signs of this being a joke of some sort, but his expression was very grave.
"I just can't shake these memories!" he blurted out again. His voice echoed about the halls, causing some of the prisoners to stir in their cells. "I know that none of them are real, and I've never had any kind of connection to her, and I don't even like humans… but it seems so wrong to leave her down there by herself."
"Wow, it really messed you up, hm?" He snorted, obviously not caring at all about Ogremon's predicament, after getting from him what he wanted. He shook his head in disgust and kept moving forward toward cell thirteen, leaving Ogremon by himself, who watched Beelzemon with pleading eyes.
"W-wait!" Ogremon called after him with distress in his voice, "You didn't answer my question!"
Beelzemon shouted to him without turning around. "It's stuck down here in a boiling hot cell in solitary confinement. How the hell do you think it's doing?"
Ogremon continued to stand on the stairs in a stupor. He inhaled deeply, no longer caring how foolish he sounded, and called after Beelzemon again, but with no avail. Soon enough, his tall silhouette was consumed by the dark shadows in the prison.