Between Alpha and Omega
By, Esmee Concept by, Tenshi no Yuma
– – –
Heaven comes to he who waits
But I know I'm getting nowhere
And all the deeds of yesterday
Have really helped to pave my way
Though there's no one near me now
How come everyone can touch me
You see the torture on my brow
Relates to neither here nor now
Watch me bleed
Bleed forever
Although my face is straight, it lies
My body feels the Pain and cries
Here the table is not bare
I am full but feeling empty
For all the warmth it feels so cold
For one so young I feel so old
Watch me bleed
Bleed forever
It's not allowed to be unkind
But still the hate lives in my mind
I'll make no noise
I'll hide my Pain
I'll close my eyes
I won't complain
I'll lie right back and take the blame
And trie to tell myself I'm living
And when it's all been said or done
Where do I go?
Where do I run?
What's left of me or anyone when we've denied
The Hurting?
'watch me bleed'
~Tears For Fears
0.
I hate red, and pink.
Why?
Pink, because it is so close to the color red.
Red, because it is the color of so many lies, like love.
Red, because it is the color of so many truths, like fire and rage.
And blood.
It's amusing that I can hate a color so much, but can't feel anything else for anything or anyone.
Pink.
Once that was my favorite color, that and red. But now I can't stand either.
Ironic, isn't it?
The colors that I abhor the most are the colors that look the most . . . stunning . . . on me.
I prefer blacks and grays now, anyway.
But, sometimes, I wear red in spite of myself.
A deep and bright red.
A blood red.
Ironic, isn't it?
((CHAPTER III: ANGEL))
1.
To say that Demidevimon was not happy was an understatement; it would be like calling a hurricane a breeze.
When Myotismon had first informed his two generals that they would soon be receiving a third, he had been more than a little surprised to say the least, and when he had finally met the elusive third general he had been frightened. Very frightened. More frightened of this one then he was of Myotismon.
And it was not merely his cowardice speaking, though Omegamon knows he had a lot of that. He was not powerful, far from it, he was also not very smart and he knew it, so he was sneaky and manipulative.
The way he manipulated people was really quite ingenious. By watching people and using their most base emotions, their weakest moment –a moment of doubt, or fear, or envy, and nurturing it until it bore fruit. Few people realized it, but that was his true power.
He could sniff out those emotions from a continent away.
He shivered as he remembered the storm of violence he could sense under the power that radiated off this general.
Drifting down the long, stone corridors towards Myotismon's audience chambers, to which he had just been summoned, he let his mind wander back over the past two weeks.
* * *
When Myotismon had returned with one of the Chosen brats, he had been ecstatic. Finally he could pay at least one of them back for all the pain they had caused him, but then he saw that she was barely breathing and pouted.
"Ah Boss," He whined. "She's already dying, there's no fun in that."
Myotismon had calmly ordered him away, and he had not thought about it again, until about three days later when saw her on one of the monitors.
"Uh, Boss? Why is the girl still alive?" He asked. He was hesitant to question his Master, but curious as to why the girl was still alive.
"Tell me Demidevimon, do you know the [ Prophecy ]?"
Demidevimon was surprised. He had been expecting a punishment, not a reply. "Uh, not by heart, no, but I know the gist of it."
"Tell me what you know of it."
"Uh, well, it's something about '[ Angels ]', and '[ Arrows ]', and 'The [ Eight ]', and, uhh, I can't remember anymore."
Myotismon sighed; Demidevimon cringed.
"The [ Prophecy ] says; 'And the [ Eight ] shall come and [ Angels ] will shoot [ Arrows ] of [ Light ] and [ Hope ] and a miracle will appear.' Do you realize what that means?"
"Uhhh, no?" He cringed again.
"Your idiocy continues to amaze me." Myotismon sighed deeply. "The [ Prophecy ] states 'The [ Eight ]'. How many children are there right now?"
"Seven, because you didn't kill the girl."
"And if the other children think that she's dead, how many would there be?"
"But she's not dead."
"Humor me."
"Uhh, if they think she's dead, six."
"And the [ Prophecy ] says there must be [ Eight ]." Satisfaction was thickly coiled in the Master's voice.
"Uh, Boss? What's this got to do with anything? I thought we were going to go find the eighth child."
Myotismon raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Omegamon, give me the strength to endure."
Demidevimon cowered, sure that he would be punished now, but no blow fell.
"The [ Prophecy ] says [ Eight ], but right now they belive they only have six. Before, they only needed to find one more child, but now they think they need two." Myotismon spoke slowly, as if to a puer.
"But Boss, the girl isn't dead so there would be nine children."
"Correct."
"But the [ Prophecy ] only needs eight . . ."
Myotismon waited as Demidevimon fully realized what Myotismon had done.
"They won't be able to fulfill the [ Prophecy ], will they?"
Myotismon turned and stared at the monitors. "No. Although the [ Prophecy ] did not specify who the children were, it did say that there had to be [ Eight ]. Not seven, not nine, eight."
"So you're going to keep her alive?"
"Yes." Myotismon had chuckled. "Yes; I'll keep her . . . alive."
* * *
As he remembered this, he shuddered. He wasn't sure what had happened to the girl after that, but that laugh had not been a pleasant one.
Then he pulled himself together, realizing that he would be late for the summons Myotismon had sent if he didn't hurry.
2.
Creeping into the large, semi-dark audience chambers, he breathed a huge sigh of relief. Myotismon wasn't here yet, so he wasn't in any trouble. Yet.
Gatomon was giving him a cold, hard glare. "You're late." She hissed
"So is Myotismon." He retorted.
"The Master is allowed to be late. You're not."
"Oh! What's this! You're worrying about me? Getting soft are we?" He mocked.
She only narrowed her eyes.
Seeing that Gatomon wouldn't be baited, he settled down to wait for the Master.
The audience chamber was a large room draped in shadows, the only furniture in the room was a rather large stone chair standing in a small pool of light. The chair stood on a small dais, and the tall three-pronged iron candelabra on its right was the only light in the room, besides the two single-pronged candelabras that flanked the door on either side. The rest of the room was painted with shade and shadows.
Demidevimon was not overly fond of the damp, or cold, or dark, particularly the dark - his idea of pleasure involved lying in the sun with many servants - and now was no exception. If anything he was even more nervous than normally, he found himself looking twice into every shadow, wary of what - or who - it might hide.
Glancing around he wondered where the new general was; the summonings had said all the generals were required. He scowled, not knowing where the new one was made him uneasy. He did not like not knowing things. He shivered glancing into the shadows again, remembering down to the last detail the way SHE had slipped out of the dark, silent but for the soft whisper of skirt and wings trailing gently behind her in the dust, so silent she might have been no more than a shadow herself, so silent that he hadn't even known that she was in the room until Myotismon had called her forth. It had terrified him.
"Ahh, good. You're all here." Myotismon's deep voice echoed through the chambers, interrupting his thoughts.
Snapping to attention, he and Gatomon watched their Master glide to the stone chair. As he watched Myotismon sit on the bare stone, Demidevimon idly wondered how he could stand sitting on cold stone. If I were him, I'd have at least one pillow on there . . .
"Report."
Instantly Gatomon stepped forward and gave her report.
Showoff. Demidevimon thought sourly, then he realized belatedly that it was HIS turn to give his report. "Oh. Right. The report. Ah, you see, um. Well, we got some new recruits, and um . . ." He trailed off, desperately trying to remember what he was suppose to be reporting on, and coming up with a big blank. He could feel Gatomon silently laughing at him.
"Enough." Myotismon said waving a hand negligently. "That is sufficient."
Grateful to be let off the hook so easily, Demidevimon slid back into place beside Gatomon, but he knew this audience was far from over. He knew what was going to happen next, already he could feel his blood start to race, already he could feel beads of sweat start to dot his brow. He glanced over at Gatomon, she was calm; not a twitch betrayed her. 'Don't you know what's coming?!' He wanted to yell at her, envying her calm, when it took all he had just to stand there and not run far away. In fact, Myotismon was the only thing keeping him on the same continent as this thing. He could barely keep himself from shuddering.
HER entrance was heralded by the soft, whispering hiss of feathers dragging across stone. The storm cloud-gray cloth of her skirt pooled about her as she knelt before Myotismon, huge midnight wings overshadowed her face and fanned out around her like black lace, obscuring most of her from view. The only thing not darkened by her wings, was her hair; the tarnished silver-white color of a storming sea.
"Report."
She hadn't spoken last time, but her voice was a clear soprano that Demidevimon remembered very well. Very well indeed. She couldn't be . . .
"I have completed your orders, Master. The village on the north-east side of File Island has been annilated."
Demidevimon had heard the words, but failed to grasp the full meaning at once, where as Gatomon had instantly comprehended what it meant. So had Myotismon.
"All dead?" Myotismon queried leaning forward, rather eagerly Demidevimon thought privately. "None still live?"
"None."
"Good." He leaned back in the stone chair. "Your work so far has been very . . . satisfactory." He paused to look down at her.
She was very still, her head still bowed and overshadowed by her wings. Myotismon's face was unreadable. But, Demidevimon shivered slightly, could it be fear he had seen flashing briefly in his Master's eyes, or was it just the flicker of the torches?
"What shall we call you, hm?" Myotismon asked her pleasantly, something Demidevimon had learned to identify as Myotismon at his worst. "Would you tell me what you wish to be called?"
If this girl - if you could still call her that - was who he thought she was, then she was reacting very well to this question.
"I no longer have a name. You may call me what you will."
"Hmmm." Myotismon paused and seemed to consider this for a moment. "You are clearly not a Digimon, but you are not clearly anything else. So I shall call you something clearly not Digimon, and clearly nothing else."
The silence in the room grew thick enough to tread on.
"Myangela."
With this dismissal, she bowed her head low and slipped away into the shade and shadows.
– – –