A/N:  OK, I hope that wasn't TOO late.  I have been exceptionally preoccupied with Civics homework and practicing for the JV track championship conferences.  I even tried my luck at getting a boyfriend at school but only succeeded as getting him as a friend, which is just fine because the only male in my life should be (and is) MYO! ^^  *huggles love-worn Myo plushie* And now… responses!  (Yay!  I get to write more than last time!  Thanks, reviewers!)

To DarkGemini (FlameShe?): Don't drink and drive!

To VampireNaomi: I'm also a Valmont fan (and he was the inspiration for Rosseau!)  I don't mean anything negative in this, but it is kind of surprising that though you think Myo belongs with Piedmon, you seem to like the AngeMyotismon/Angewomon romance (or at least think it's better than an Angemon/Angewomon.)  Anyway, thanks for reviewing!

To Angel Reaper: Exactly, you can't kill an angel.  But some people don't think so…

To vandegatomoncat: Have an AngeMyo plushie! *throws her said plushie*

To blackmage718: Sorry that took so long!

Here's the long-awaited (but slightly short) chapter 7!  Enjoy!

Chapter 7

No Longer Hidden

  Moments prior to when the uproar began, a liberally-sized crowd had gathered in the museum in Tokyo that was full of the most valuable and priceless artifacts and jewels, including the worlds largest sapphire (unearthed several weeks earlier and not yet recorded in the record books) and the contents of a sunken treasure chest from six hundred years before the event.  The said jewel would be unveiled to the public that night, surrounded by a crowd that was blocked off by a red velvet rope that, by an unwritten and unspoken law, the curator was only permitted to step past.

  As the tall man in a neatly-pressed tan suit, the head of the museum, stepped past the velvet and took hold of the green cloth that concealed the valuable jewel, a hush fell upon the mob, only broken by the clicks of cameras taking their pictures, accompanied by their flashes.  The head took no notice; he declared, "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the discovery of our own Kenji Shii, the Shii Sapphire, now the world's largest."  He drew the cloth back to reveal the priceless gem, bluer than any ocean, glimmering in its momentous beacon of glory.

  "How much is it worth?" questioned a voice in the crowd.

  "It is valued to be over ten billion yen."

  "Ten billion yen, huh?" muttered a stocky, redheaded, black-clad man in the crowd to his shorter partner in his rusty-drainpipe voice.  "Richards, are you thinking what I am thinking?"  He adjusted his sporty sunglasses.

  "Absolutely, Smith," nodded Richards, the shorter and thinner of the two.  He had black hair and olive skin, wearing an identical suit and sunglasses.

  A third man joined them, an African-American with a buzz cut.  He was taller than Smith and had more muscles than the two combined.  Anyone could tell by looking at him that he had been a bodyguard in his former life.  "You two had better start when the museum closes so we don't get sent to jail," he suggested in his deep bass voice.

  What the man, who preferred to go by the name of D to protect his identity, was telling Thomas Smith and Kurtis Richards (called by their last names) to do, was to steal the priceless gem from the museum in the dead of night to add it to Rosseau's collection.  What the billionaire was planning to do with his priceless Japanese artifacts and other related items was to "ransom" them, and the price Tokyo had to pay to acquire them was the captures of Myotismon and Angewomon.  However, since the majority of them were focused on earning the high-value reward of up to $17 million dollars American, the sapphire and other objects would be fringe benefits for Rosseau.

  Smith shifted his gaze around the room impatiently, sight wandering back to the perfectly-cut Shii Sapphire, seductively gleaming on its stand, as well as at the famous and valuable paintings on the walls.  He glanced at Richards, who was perspiring out of impatience and anxiety.

  "Our jet is outside!" Richards reminded D.  "Can't we just steal the frickin sapphire and leave?  It's not like their police is going to catch us!"

  "Especially in this snowstorm," added Smith.

  D crossed his arms, refusing to assist these college-age buffoons he was assigned to work with.  "If you get sent to jail, I refuse to ask Rosseau to bail you out.  It's your own stupidity."  He stood off to the side and clutched the concealed hand gun he always carried with him on his belt, concealed by his jet-black jacket.

  The two men waited until the final news reporters and patrons had trickled out of the room to view the unveiling of the following exhibit, which was only in a few minutes that felt like several hours.  They ducked underneath the velvet rope, breaking the "unwritten rule", then stared at the newly-installed security device: six red laser beams that pointed directly at it and emitted a bright red glow.

  "OK," dictated Smith.  "One… two… three… grab the sapphire and run like hell!"  He and Richards grabbed hold of the weighty jewel and ran, not avoiding the velvet rope.  They tripped over it and stumbled to the ground just as a loud bell rang out throughout the museum.  Entangled in the rope, they struggled and let go of the sapphire, which rolled down the white tiled floor.

  A crowd of people, half of which were security guards and policemen, rushed into the room.  The guards were carrying guns and pointed them both at Smith and Richards, who held their hands up.

  "Step away from the sapphire," instructed one of the police.  "Step away or we'll shoot!"

  All of a sudden, D whipped out his gun and began shooting at the guards and policemen, who got knocked down to the floor, some of which were bleeding from the hit.  Their guns all got knocked out of their hands and fell apart.

  "Come on, guys," he told his fellow robbers.  "Get the sapphire."

  At that time, as police cars zoomed past him, their sirens wailing, Myotismon knew there was trouble brewing somewhere in the city, and that meant an angelic act of bravery.  So he discarded his trenchcoat, leapt into the air, and spread his wings, flying through the newly-accumulating snow of the blizzard, flying above the blue-and-red police lights towards the museum.  He landed on the roof, next to a glass skylight that spanned halfway across, where he saw a room full of artifacts getting robbed by three men.

  "Oh my lord…" he gasped.  "A crime… I must stop it!"  He flew into the sky and then turned completely downward, making a fist and crashing through the glass skylight.  Shards of glass and clumps of snow rained down on everyone as Myotismon landed on the ground, perfectly intact and unscathed despite crashing through a glass window.  His landing blew light objects off to the side, some of which hit Smith and Richards.  "Who did this?" he questioned to the crowd.  "Where are they?"

  The group of humans remained silent until a single female voice shouted, "Oh my God!  It's the angel!"

  "Capture him!" shouted the curator, desperate for more money to buy artifacts for his museum.  "Before he gets away!"

  Myotismon quickly darted out of the way, brandishing his moon staff to attempt to ward the humans away.  "Don't do anything!" he demanded.  "Where are the—"  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Smith, Richards, and D escaping with the sapphire in their hands, sneaking out of the door.  "There they are…"  he leapt into the air and flew as fast as his wings could carry him to the door, where he was confronted by a silver mini-jet with a red racing stripe down the side, with a rope ladder withdrawing itself into the side through a door.

  As the crowd ran towards the vampire, the plane took off into the air.  "Not tonight," muttered Myotismon, flying upwards, his staff glowing bright crimson.  "CRIMSON ROD!" he shouted, aiming a beam of bright red light at the rear of the jet, which got blown into a metal hole.  He could see inside, and that papers and other various objects were blowing outside, along with Roberts and Smith shielding themselves and clinging to their seats.  Soaring faster than the plane was able to, he flew inside and grabbed hold of the sapphire, the plane going faster so it would be more difficult for him to obtain it.  Flying as fast as his wings could muster, Myotismon finally clutched to the sapphire and then ceased his rapid flight, tumbling out of the jet and towards the ground, his lanky arms still wrapped around the jewel.  As briefly as possible, he hovered in the air and placed the sapphire on the sidewalk near the museum before the remainder of the crowd could get to him.  Then he flew to his sanctuary above the clouds, but he knew then even that wasn't safe.  Perspiration glistened on his brow as his wings limped on his sides, exhausted from the pursuit.

  "So you are telling me that you saw an angel blast a hole through the plane, enter it, steal the sapphire, and then leave without a trace?" questioned Rosseau, rubbing his temple as he glowered at his two laymen.  He glanced out the hotel window at the rapidly-falling snow, pondering the alleged hallucination of the two of these men.  "Tell me, Smith and Richards, did you two consume any alcoholic beverages prior to your experience?"

   "N… not that we know of," replied Smith, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his black trousers, recollecting the beer he and Richards had polished off at lunch that day.

  Rosseau stared at the flickering city lights of Tokyo from the desk of his hotel suite, shortly after Myotismon Shadow Mode had made his arrival.  When he got informed of the heist that almost occurred but was aborted at the last second, he quickly dressed and made a bargain to introduce the Shadow Mode to the lackeys when they returned from the scene of the crime.  And now he believed that the time was exactly right.

  "Gentlemen, I have an announcement for you two.  Several minutes ago, I had… what I thought was a vision.  But it turned out to not be after all."  The lights dimmed greatly, so Smith and Richards temporarily went blind.

  "Hey, what's the deal with the lights?" wondered Richards, maneuvering his hands around randomly and touching Smith's face.

  "Get your sweaty digits off of my—" the partner-in-crime began, but was silenced by a pallid face appearing before him.

  "I see these henchmen seem to be of the same caliber as my own," declared Myotismon Shadow Mode, laying one of his hands on Rosseau's desk.  "But I can change that…"

  "Who the hell are you?" asked Richards, extracting a handgun from his pocket and shakily pointing it at the Shadow Mode.

  The vampire bared his fangs as his lips curled into a grin.  "I am the the darker half of the Vampire Lord of Server, the prominent side.  And I am here to accomplish the desired goal of world conquest.  I have abilities beyond your wildest dreams, including the capability to dominate the minds of all my henchmen.  I already reign supreme over the digital continent of Server."

  Smith and Richards gasped in awe.

  "You look familiar," stated Smith, slightly quavering.  "I saw you before today… you look like, that is to say… the angel."

  "The ANGEL?" questioned Myotismon Shadow Mode, whacking his hand against the desk so far it emitted a cracking noise and Rosseau quickly slid backwards.  "You are telling me that an ANGEL penetrated the barrier in my castle, after I clearly destroyed PyroAngemon?!"

  "No, no no…" sputtered the redheaded man, whose hair stood out starkly against his whitened face.  "Nothing like that, honest!  It's the angel who stole our diamond, he looked exactly like you!  It was like he was your twin or something!"

  The Shadow Mode paused and narrowed his ice-blue eyes.  All three other occupants of the suite shivered at the same moment.  "AngeMyotismon…" he growled.  "The appendage who was holding me back in my conquest… I could have completely annihilated him when I had the opportunity, but unfortunately that little bitch Angewomon had to catch him as he fell…"

  "Ange-what?" Richards blurted out.  "That counterpart of yours?"

  "AngeMyotismon, you fool!" shouted the vampire.  "He and I were one within the digital vampire known as Myotismon."

  "What?" asked Smith.  "What-mon?"

  "MYOTISMON!" shouted Myotismon Shadow Mode.  "He was AngeMyotismon, and he was me.  I was the prominent side of him, rendering him to a Viral form, the very format he (or I) was so infamous form.  The AngeMyotismon side prevented Myotismon from being a completely war-like vampire with no mercy and only a passion to kill.  He HAD to have an aesthetic taste in everything, as concerned about whether or not his suit was neatly pressed and every hair was in place.  With this damn emotion… LOVE…"  At this point he grimaced as if he were tasting something bitter.  "… he loved himself.  Without it getting in the way, I would have been free to conquer all the land I desired!"

  OK… that made no sense… thought Rosseau.

  Smith was still quite skeptical.  "OK, so if I can believe that you're not really some sort of crackhead in a supervillain outfit, show me some of your so-called power!"

  "And so I shall," replied Myotismon Shadow Mode.  He snapped his fingers and spread his black cape, and about fifty bats flew out from underneath, knocking Smith to the ground and nipping at his skin.  As the attendant swatted at the winged rodents, Richards stared in awe.  "Do you wish for more proof now?"

  "I can… see you are… telling… the truth!" gasped Smith.  "I'm SORRY!"

  "You better be," admonished Rosseau.  "Myotismon Shadow Mode means business."

  As the bats flew onto the ceiling of the hotel room, the Shadow Mode's eyes began to glow bright blue, and suddenly a blanket of white fog draped itself over the entire city of Tokyo, obstructing any view below the fifteenth floor of any building.

  "What the hell?" questioned Richards.

  "That is my power of enveloping entire cities in fog," replied the vampire.  "It is a key to world domination indeed."

  Rena, awake and completing her literature homework that night in front of the television, was not able to concentrate on anything, be it the seven comprehension questions she still needed to answer or the cleaning-fluid commercial that was currently on as background.  She knew something was quite different that day, but it was nothing school-related.  It was as if HE CAME BACK.

  No, it couldn't be true.  The brunette heaved a sigh, knowing that he was gone for good and would never love her.  If only he had feelings for her, if only—

  "This just in, a daring rescue has occurred at the West Tokyo Museum," declared a male reporter on the screen, eyes occasionally glancing upwards at the cue screen.  "But not of a person, but rather the newly-unveiled Shii Sapphire, valued at over ten billion yen.  Patrons to the unveiling witnessed a theft committed by two men of unconfirmed identities, followed by the sapphire returned perfectly intact by what was described as an exotic angel."

  The screenshot changed to several of the witnesses, shown with microphones shoved in their faces and all having rosy cheeks and breath that came out in clouds.  Each said something that differed in a way, but vaguely the same.  The interviews began with a young woman and ended with the curator himself.

  "It was about seven feet tall and had really long blonde hair.  Oh yeah, it was wearing a mask.  And its hair reached the ground… I couldn't tell if it was male or female until I saw him in front, shirtless!  He had muscles!  God, he was hot!  And his wings were really weird too."

  "The angel had, get this, blue skin and purple lips.  I don't think he comes from this planet at all."

  "Uh… I wasn't there at the time, but I think I saw something flying away when I got outside."

  "He had bat wings.  Call me crazy, but…" (at this point, the witness sighed slightly) "… I believe it might have been a person in costume."

  "Blue with blonde hair, dressed in white, and had very weird wings."

  "Hey… he might have been that male angel that Ross guy was talking about.  He's worth millions."

  "He saved my museum billions of yen for that return," concluded the curator.  "It was quite a daring rescue, and whoever this mysterious winged man is, I wish to thank him."

  The screen switched to the reporter in the blink of an eye.  "Here we have unedited footage from the security camera of the angel scenario and exactly what happened at the museum earlier this evening."  A black-and-white security video, complete with "9:32 P.M." in the bottom left corner in white digital text, replayed every second of the brief getaway interrupted by Myotismon.

  Rena gasped as she got a closer look at him.  "Is that… it can't be!" she whispered.  "It's HIM!"

  "Rena, turn that television off and finish your homework!" echoed her mother's voice from the kitchen across the hall.

  With eyes pasted to the television set, Rena reached for the remote control and pressed the power button.  The image on the screen transformed from the footage of the angel to a completely black screen.  Staring at her homework, Rena's thoughts wandered from the story she was reading to Myotismon, his long blonde hair in the wind and blue eyes staring into hers.

  She needed to find him before he got captured.

  "Angewomon… where are you?" wondered Myotismon as he sat perched on a soft silvery-blue cloud, looking over Tokyo.  Replaying the brief episode in his mind, he knew he was no longer innocuous, but now a target for angel-hunters, the number of which grew from zero to nearly the entire population of Japan.  It now seemed he needed another angel to remain with him to help him acquire a more secure feeling.

  The answer was a breeze blowing through the air, then dying down, blowing excess snow across the clouds.  The half-angel was able to feel the sharp pricks of the cold against his bare skin at that point, so he curled up and shielded himself with his wings, which substituted for his velvet cape.  They might not have been velvet, rather a tight, rubbery material, but it was the best thing around.

  "Please… come to me… you are my light in the midst of darkness.  When it seems that two worlds are against you, though you may not be opposed to them, you are the only one who has shown her truest feelings for me.  No female is physically attracted towards me despite these good looks I may have—not knowing whether or not I am as truly handsome as I have the illusion of being due to the actuality that I have not seen my reflection at all for what might have been hundreds of years… possibly less… but no female has ever been drawn towards me without my spellbinding powers before you.  I was hopeless the second my Shadow Mode whipped me off of the cloud, and I most likely would have died if you had not saved my life out of… what?  LOVE?

  "Love… I have never encountered this strange emotion before you crossed my path.  I sensed it the day you killed me for the first time, a sensation unlike any other rushing through my veins and into my chest… it prevented me from attacking you right away, eating away at me from the inside.  And then when I became this freak angel, your presence dwelled within me, and I recognized it as that exact emotion I had experienced when I first laid eyes on you.  I understand… love is within me, pouring through the door of my soul.  Is it that which made me enact the favor for those humans tonight?

  "I understand now… love is more potent than anything I had ever experienced before as a heartless vampire ruling over Server.  It is sweeter than wine, more addictive than blood, more comforting than repose in my casket, more beautiful than the sight of darkness over my domain, gives me more companionship than my bats.  Your kisses are so sweet and soft and addictive; I always crave more from you.  As I feel your warm, soft arms wrap around me, it is a great comfort.  Your face and figure are simply beautiful, with your soft golden hair and rosy skin.  You make the most adequate companion I have ever bonded with.  Not even Demidevimon and I have been as close as you and I, much less intimate.  You are an angel, according to humans, angels are messengers of a certain God, and this God is love.  Angewomon… you are love.  My love, my light, my angel."

  Myotismon gazed off into the distance, seeing the lights on the skyscrapers flickering on and off through a deep blanket of fog as a snowstorm poured down onto them.  He sighed, then fought back what few tears were struggling out of his eyes.  "If only you know how much I love you now… do you still love me?  If you do, then come to me."

  The answer was silence.

  "AngeMyotismon, my beloved," whispered Gatomon, her paw against the fogged-up windowpane in Kari's room at that moment.  "I wish I could come to you and tell you how much I love you now… but I cannot leave the tenement for fear of the humans hunting me down as Angewomon."  She sighed and leapt onto the foot of Kari's bed, curling up into a white ball.  "Maybe he is able to elude them… I know he can remain incognito and can survive a night without my presence… he will survive…"

To be continued…