The Angel in Mourning
By: SilvorMoon
Jyou frowned down at the telephone.
"She did what?" he repeated.
"She's disappeared!" Mimi wailed. Jyou was familiar enough with his old friend to know when she was crying, and it sounded like she was on the verge of all-out hysterics. "She said she was going out to play with some of her friends, and she hasn't come home!"
"She's probably just lost track of time," said Jyou soothingly. "Give her a little more time. I'm sure she'll turn up."
"But it's the middle of the night! She would have come home by now!"
"Oh," said Jyou, blushing. He'd forgotten there was a difference in times from Japan to the USA. "You're right. That does sound like a problem. Have you called the police?"
"They won't do anything. A person's not considered missing until they've been gone twenty-four hours. By then, it might already be too late..."
"Don't panic," said Jyou. "Just try to stay calm - you aren't going to do anyone any good if you're having fits. Mary's a tough kid. She can take care of herself." Jyou wasn't just saying the words; he meant them. He hadn't seen Mimi's daughter since she was a small child, but even then, she'd radiated the kind of self-confidence and cleverness that made him think that anyone ought to think twice about messing with the full-grown version. He had heard, and been surprised, that Mary had taken up football and kickboxing and excelled at both of them - not things he would have expected of Mimi's offspring, but impressive nonetheless.
There was sniffling on the other end of the line. "You're right. She's got her Digimon with her. They can protect each other... wherever they are."
"Right. Just keep that in mind and hang tight. Mary will be home soon," said Jyou. "And if she's not, well, we'll find her, even if Ken has to hop on his Stingmon and fly over there to look for her!"
"You think so?" said Mimi, sounding a bit brighter.
"I'm sure of it," Jyou replied.
"Thanks, Jyou. I knew you would have something helpful to say."
"Welcome," Jyou replied. He offered a few more words of doctorly advice involving Mimi trying to calm herself down, and then said goodbye and hung up.
"What was that all about?" asked Gomamon, looking up at his partner expectantly.
"Mimi's daughter's gone missing," Jyou replied. "I tried to encourage Mimi, but... I don't know. New York's a tough city, worse than Tokyo by a long shot. If she's lost there somewhere... I just don't know."
"She'll be okay," said Gomamon, ever optimistic. "It's just like you said - she'll find her way home, or Ken can go look for her. He's a detective; he can find anyone."
Jyou nodded absently, thinking. Ken... he'd disappeared a couple of days ago and turned up in the Digital World, held captive by some strange creature called Chiaromon. Following the hunch, Jyou tried to call Taichi, and found the line to be busy. Scowling, he considered a moment, and then called Yamato. The phone rang once, twice... and was picked up.
"Hello?" said the voice on the other end.
"Yamato, this is Jyou. Have you heard?"
"Heard about what?" asked Yamato.
"Mimi's daughter. She's missing - just dropped off the face of the earth."
"That could be bad," Yamato mused. "Though it might not be. We did it, and we came out okay."
"Yeah, in the Digital World. That's why I'm calling."
"Well, explain yourself, then, because so far, you haven't made any sense at all."
"Okay," said Jyou, taking a deep breath. "You remember how Ken got picked up by that Chiaromon character? He escaped okay, but what if Chiaromon decided hunting adult Digidestined is too much trouble, and decided to nab a kid instead? It would be a smart move. Kids disappear all the time in big cities. No one would be able to trace her. If what I heard was true, Chiaromon has ways of blocking out a Digivice signal, so we'd never know where to find her."
"Good point." Jyou could almost hear the wheels turning in Yamato's brain as he mused over the possibilities. "Do you want to go, then?"
"Go? Go where?"
"To the Digital World. Where else? If nothing else, someone ought to get a good look at this Chiaromon guy and take his measure, see if we can figure out what he's doing."
"Well..."
"Come on, Jyou! I'm not saying we should charge into a battle. I'm just suggesting going in and having a look. It can't hurt," said Yamato persuasively. "We'll leave as soon as it looks like trouble."
"Well... sure, okay. As long as you promise we'll get out as soon as there's danger."
"Fine. Just one little thing," said Yamato.
"What?"
"Well, Sora took Aiko shopping, and knowing those two, they'll be gone for hours. If I'm leaving, I'll need someone to look after Kata for me. Do you think your son could...?"
Jyou frowned again. "I don't know. Oki's not much of the babysitting type."
"Kata's not a baby," said Yamato, sounding indignant. "He's almost as old as Oki is. I just don't feel right leaving him all alone. Really, he's no trouble at all - Oki will hardly know he's there."
"All right then," said Jyou, relenting. He never was much good at winning arguments. "That's the kind of people Oki likes best - the ones who leave him alone."
"Great. Come on over to my place, then. Knowing Kata, we won't be able to pry him out of his room. He's going through one of those phases, I think."
Moments later, Oki heard the creak of his door opening, and his father peered into the room. Oki looked up from the book he was reading - a science fiction novel, Jyou noted, the cover depicting the valiant young hero holding a sword of glowing light, facing off with some hideous green slime monster. Jyou wondered what it was that drew his son to things like that.
"Oki?" he said. "I need to ask you a favor..."
The mutant lurked nervously in the hallway outside his master's throne room, waiting. What he was waiting for, he wasn't precisely certain, knowing only that he wanted to know a little more about the state of things before he entered Chiaromon's presence. Unless he was summoned, it was a risky thing to walk in on the prince without properly gauging the situation first. At length, one of the servants, a pale and withered Vegimon, came wandering down the hall.
"Um, excuse me," said the mutant.
"Hm?" The Vegimon looked up, startled, and then relaxed. "Oh, it's just you. Can I help you with anything?"
"What is the master's mood at the moment?" the mutant asked, relaxing a little himself. Most of Chiaromon's servants were nasty sorts, serving him of their own choice, rather than spell- bindings or coercion. However, all of them knew the shy clown was harmless and occasionally useful. He listened to them with respect, and they treated him rather better than they would have anyone else.
"He is quiet," the Vegimon replied. "Almost happy. If you have something to say to him, now would be the time."
"Thank you," answered the mutant. "I'm afraid I have rather bad news for him."
The Vegimon shrugged. "You'll handle it. You always do."
"Yes," said the mutant, almost sadly. "I seldom enjoy it, though."
The Vegimon shrugged again and ambled down the hallway. The mutant sighed. Time to reap what he had sown. Squaring his shoulders and mustering what little nerve he had, he walked into Chiaromon's throne room.
It was very dark inside, which was no surprise. Chiaromon didn't dislike light, but his pale blue eyes were supremely sensitive to it, and to be in full sunlight was agony for him. Shadows were another matter; he could find his way about in almost total darkness without tripping or stumbling. Thus, it was as much practicality as effect that had led him to design his inner sanctum to be as dark as possible and still make it possible for his servants to find their way in and out. The mutant didn't mind, as his eyes glowed in the dark, letting him find his way even in darkness that Chiaromon himself would have found impassible. There wasn't much to see, anyway, just the prince on his throne... and the paintings. The mutant's eyes strayed up to them, as they always did, before snapping back to his master. Chiaromon might take offense if he thought he was being ignored. To cover the lapse, the mutant dropped down to one knee, bowing gracefully, and Chiaromon smiled. The mutant heaved a small sigh of relief. His master must have been in a good mood, after all.
"Rise," said Chiaromon, "and welcome. I was just thinking that I might enjoy a bit of company."
"Thank you," the mutant answered. Chiaromon beckoned lazily, and the mutant took his cue and scurried to his place as the foot of the dias, kneeling at his master's right side. This was his place when the prince was in his good moods, and those came more often than some might have guessed. The mutant knew better than anyone that Chiaromon was possessed of a dual nature. At times, like now, he was calm, gracious, even pleasant. At other times... the mutant repressed a shudder. Chiaromon hadn't managed to hurt him yet, but that didn't mean he wouldn't someday. The thing that made the prince so dangerous was that his temper, once lost, would go utterly out of control, throwing him into a berserk rage. His very form would change, his blue eyes turning red, his mouth sprouting fangs, his nails lengthening into talons. In that state, he would wildly attack anything that got in his way, not stopping until his rage was spent. In the beginning, the rages hadn't lasted long, a few minutes at most, but every time they came upon him, the hold they took was greater and harder to shake. The mutant, having the powers of Mega, was the only one who could keep his master from destroying the castle and everyone in it... which unfortunately meant that he had to take the brunt of his master's anger himself.
"So," said Chiaromon as his servant settled himself, "my great experiment has begun. Now we shall see, shall we not?"
The mutant nodded obediently, but Chiaromon didn't appear to see him. He rose and began pacing back and forth across the dias his throne rested upon. His eyes were fixed on the paintings, flicking from one to the other, and the mutant copied his master. The two paintings had always fascinated him, and now he welcomed the chance to re-examine them. On the right, there hung the painting of an Angewomon, done full-length with her brilliant wings unfurled. The detail was incredible, so that one could almost swear her feathers and hair stirred in a breeze, and that the clouds around her moved in the warmth of the beams of light that shone around her. It was a strange thing to find in the palace of a self-proclaimed evil overlord, but there it was, given pride of place, with a soft spotlight beaming down on it to give it added luster. However, the painting that hung on the other side was another matter altogether. It was a portrait of a face not unlike Chiaromon's own, pale-skinned and arrogant, a man whose lips were twisted in a sneering smile, revealing glinting fangs. His hair was the same gold as Chiaromon's, his eyes the same blue, but it was different Digimon from another time, one who had died years ago. This was Myotismon, his image painted in bold, almost brutal strokes, the colors vivid even under the cold blue light that beamed on the painting. His eyes seemed to glitter with some hidden black joke; his fangs did much the same. Looking at it gave the mutant chills, and he turned his gaze back to the Angewomon. Chiaromon, however, seemed to enjoy looking at them equally.
"Well?" he said, addressing the paintings. "What do you think? Which of you is going to win, hm? Light, or shadow?"
There was a pause, much as if Chiaromon were expecting an answer. The mutant thought nothing of it; the prince often talked to the pictures as if they were alive. Perhaps, in some sense, they were.
"Well," said Chiaromon again, this time with satisfaction, as if he'd received an answer, "we will see, won't we? You've been down there - how is the prisoner doing? Has he given up yet, or does he still stand strong? I would have thought he'd give up almost at once. He went to the dark side once, so you would think he would find going back easy."
The mutant opened his mouth to give an answer, but his scant courage failed him. "When last I saw him, he was looking well. I don't think he'll give in easily."
"You are hardly the expert on the subject," Chiaromon scoffed. "I, however, am. Let us go look in on him, to see how he fares."
"That may be difficult, Highness," said the mutant.
"And why might that be?"
"Because," the mutant answered, "the prisoners have escaped. The locks are broken, and the prisoners are gone."
There was a moment of silence, and the mutant waited, tensed for anything. For a moment, he dared to hope he was safe. Then he saw his master's eyes close, saw the shudder run through the prince's body, and the mutant's heart dropped into his boots. He braced himself.
Chiaromon's eyes snapped open, flaring blood-red fire, and he sprang forward with a roar. The mutant leaped out of the way, letting his master fall to the floor in a tangle of wings. There was a flurry of white feathers as Chiaromon tried to twist himself upright; those mismatched wings had always been more of a hindrance than a help. He seldom used them when he was sane, unreliable as they were, but that made no difference to him now. Snarling and baring his fangs, he managed to flap clumsily into the air and turned on the mutant with malice written all over his face.
"Celestial Lightning!" he shouted, and whips of pure white light sprouted from his hands to lash at the mutant, who stood impassively on the ground, his face screwed up in expectation of the pain. The lights struck him with eye-dazzling lights, and the mutant staggered and fell. Chiaromon dropped from the air, his wings giving out, and landed on all fours like an animal. He pounced on the fallen clown and they tumbled a few times, the prince slashing ineffectively at his lackey. The talons did nothing more than tear rips in the clown's silk clothing, and the mutant accepted the treatment blandly. That seemed to annoy Chiaromon; he got up and began kicking him.
"Get up," he snarled. "Get up and fight back."
Reluctantly, the mutant got up and drew his wands, holding them defensively before him. Chiaromon's mouth twisted into a smile that mirrored the one on the watching portrait of Myotismon.
"Crimson Arrow!" he bellowed, lobbing a bolt of bloody light at the clown. The mutant flicked it away. The attack was repeated, with the same result, over and over, until the mutant sensed that his master was finally growing bored. With a look of resignation, he let his defenses drop, and the final arrow struck its target, throwing the mutant to the ground. Chiaromon sauntered over and looked down at him. The mutant whimpered.
"Please, Master, have mercy," he begged. Chiaromon laughed and pressed his booted foot down on the mutant's head, pressing it into the stone floor.
"That's right, beg!" he cackled. "Who is your master, slave? Say it, and maybe I'll let you go!"
"You are, Prince Chiaromon. I am at your mercy," the mutant repeated. Even though his rational mind knew he was in no real danger, he was quaking all over.
The show of fear and respect was enough to mollify the prince, and his eyes faded back to their proper color. He looked around in faint confusion, not quite sure what was going on. Then he looked down at his servant.
"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice strangely gentle.
"I'm fine," the mutant replied. "You really weren't so bad this time. Last time you took out a column." He nodded toward a heap of rubble in a far corner that had once been a supporting pillar.
"Yes. This time I confined my attacks to a living thing," said Chiaromon solemnly. "Don't try to gloss things over. I'm getting worse, not better."
The mutant kept silent.
"Yes," said Chiarimon again. "Someday, I'm going to go over completely, am I not? I'm going to go over, and I'm not going to come back." He sighed. "Hopefully the end won't come until my experiment is finished. Perhaps..." His eyes strayed to the painting of the Angewomon. Then he shook his head. "Time will tell. It suits me either way. I only want to be sure."
The mutant nodded. "Did you need me for anything else, Master?"
"Not at the moment," Chiaromon replied. "Given time, perhaps. If my lab rats have escaped, I must capture new ones. I may do it myself, this time. It must give one a feeling of accomplishment, to select something by hand and mold it into what you'd have it be... Yes, that will be the best way. You are dismissed."
The mutant bowed low and scurried off. Much as he hated to think on it, his master was right. One day, he was going to go completely out of control, and then it would be only the mutant standing between Chiaromon and the destruction of the world.
*Maybe then he'll kill me properly,* the mutant thought, *and then both our worries will be over.*
Oki fidgeted, straightening his glasses and brushing his hair out of his eyes. Meeting people made him nervous. If there was one thing he hated, it was being in a situation he couldn't control, and there was no controlling or even predicting what unfamiliar people would do. His Digimon partner, a Gomamon named Nami, was trying to comfort him in his usual way, which mean climbing up onto Oki's shoulders to prop his chin on his head, disarranging his hair and throwing his glasses askew in the process. Oki glared at his partner and was rewarded by a wicked grin, and he sighed and began trying to put his hair back in order. He wore it long, much as his father had done in his teenage years, a quiet teenage rebellion. If he hadn't been doing it for a reason, he would have cut it short; not only was long hair trouble, but people often looked at Oki from afar, with his slight build and gentle features, and mistook him for a girl.
Jyou rang the doorbell and had it answered almost at once. Yamato had obviously been waiting for them, appearing instantly to usher them inside.
"Hey, Oki," he greeted. "So, Jyou, you ready to head out?"
"I guess," Jyou replied. "Where's your son? Isn't he supposed to be around here somewhere?"
"He's in his room. Don't worry, I told him what we're doing," Yamato replied. "Chances are, he won't come out until after we've come back. Like I said, he's a solitary sort."
"Just like his dad," Jyou replied. "Well, if we're going to do this, we might as well get it over with. Mind the house, Oki. Don't let Nami take it apart."
"I won't!" said the boy and his 'mon in unison.
The men left, and a few moments later, Oki registered a flash of blue light coming from another room. Nami nodded, as if that was just what he'd been waiting for, before bouncing down off his partner's shoulders to start inspecting Yamato's living room. He bounced on the sofa cushions a few times and laughed his approval.
"Nice pad," he commented. "Mr. Ishida's got good taste... and we've got the place all to ourselves! Way cool."
"Not all to ourselves," Oki corrected. "Kata's around here somewhere."
"Who cares about the invisible boy?" asked Nami. "If he's not even going to come out of his hole in the wall, why should we worry about him?"
"I don't know. I just think it's creepy to be in a house with someone I can't see," said Oki. "I'm going to go look for him and tell him we're here."
"Betcha it doesn't do any good," said Nami, but he bounced along beside his partner just the same.
Wandering through the apartment, Oki became aware of music playing somewhere, and he followed the sound to a closed door. Putting his ear to it yielded the sounds of singing; someone was listening to a song, but the singers weren't one Oki recognized. No matter; he'd never been much for keeping up with the latest pop idols. These people, he decided, were good enough to look into, though. He would ask Kata who they were once they'd established contact; it would give them something to talk about. He knocked on the door.
The music stopped, and there was a rustling on the other side of the door, and the a twang and some muttering. The door opened. Standing before Oki was a redheaded boy, perhaps a year or two younger than Oki, holding a guitar and looking annoyed. In the background was a Gabumon, perched in front of a synthesizer keyboard. Oki stared as the realization sunk in that the music he'd been hearing had not been a recording, after all.
"Are you Oki?" asked the redhead after a while. There was no mistaking that voice - he was definitely one of the singers.
"Yeah. Are you Kata?"
"I am," said the redhead stiffly. "Did you want to ask me something?"
"Huh?"
"I said, did you want to ask me something?" Kata repeated, as if talking to an idiot. "Because if you don't, you're interrupting my practice session."
"Oh. Sorry," said Oki, looking abashed. "You sounded really good, though. I thought it was a recording, at first."
That seemed to earn him some points; Kata became a degree less cold. He smiled a bit, in a way that said, "Of course I'm that good." Aloud, he commented, "You brought a Gomamon."
"My partner," said Oki. "His name's Nami. I see you've got a Gabumon. What's his name."
That smile again. "RB."
"RB? What's that stand for?"
Kata grinned. "Rhythm and blues!"
"Ah," said Oki. "I should have known."
"Hi!" said the Gabumon, waving.
"Hi!" Nami called back, flipping a flipper.
"I suppose now we're all acquainted, aren't we?" said Kata.
"I suppose," Oki admitted.
"Then you have what you came for. Goodbye." Kata shut the door.
"What the...?" Oki spluttered. He couldn't quite believe it. How could anyone be so rude? Behind the door, there were muffled voice-sounds, as if Kata and RB were having a quiet argument. Then the voices subsided and the music began again.
"Friendly sort," Nami commented.
"You said it," said Oki.
"Oh, well." Nami seemed to have already dismissed the incident. "You didn't want to be friends with him anyway. Come on, let's go raid the kitchen."
The little Gomamon bounded away, and Oki followed behind, thoughtfully.
*No, I didn't want to make friends with him,* he said. *He's rude, he's arrogant, he's totally unsociable... I may just have to change my mind, just to teach him a lesson.*
"So, where are we going?"
"I have no idea."
"What?" Jyou squawked, goggling at his friend. Yamato shrugged.
"Just like old times," Gomamon commented.
"I've only got a rough idea of where Chiaromon's hideout is," said Yamato. "We're heading in that general direction, but we're going to have to scout around a bit before we find it. Ken said he raised up a regular mansion. It shouldn't be that hard to find."
"Great. Tramping around in the woods. Just what I love," said Jyou bitterly. "And neither of our Digimon have wings. Couldn't you have waited until Sora got home? I bet she and Birdramon could find this place in no time, and we wouldn't have to walk so much."
Yamato flushed a bit. "I don't think she'd approve. If she were here, she would be right there with you saying this isn't our work, and that we should wait for Mary to turn up instead of running off chasing hunches." His face hardened. "But this is our work. There's something dangerous running loose in the world we fought and nearly died to protect, and I for one am not going to sit back and do nothing while Chiaromon hunts down my friends!"
"Well, when you put it like that," Jyou sighed. "Lead the way."
Yamato led, and Jyou followed. He'd always been good at that - following orders. It was part of his nature. If someone put an obligation on him, he would fill it out or go crazy trying. It was what had brought him to where he was today, what had pulled him through those long difficult years of medical school, fighting down his distaste for blood and pain enough to bring out his own healing capabilities. It was his inner store of strength. Now it served him well, forcing him to stay by his friend's side even when his instincts were telling him with greater and greater urgency that they were nearing danger. Something didn't feel right here;.The pine trees were growing denser and darker, hung with something like moss or thick spiderwebs. The air hung thick and heavy, cool but somehow stuffy, lifeless, dead...
"Something smells wrong," Gabumon commented after a while. "It reminds me of something."
"What?" asked Yamato.
Gabumon sniffed the air. "Caves. Underground places, and dust and bats. It's familiar."
"We've been here before," said Jyou with sudden certainty. "We were here, a long time ago, and something bad happened. We've got to get away before it happens again."
"But-" Yamato began, and stopped. Something had just registered in his mind, a brief but vivid image of shadows and fire, battle and fear. They had been here before, and they had almost not gotten away alive.
"Where are we?" he asked at last.
Jyou didn't answer. Something had caught his eye, and he was walking towards it, beckoning for everyone else to follow. They soon came to a rise in the land, a place where they could look through the dark trees and see off into the distance. Everyone stood there, staring in still, shaken silence. Ken had not been there at the time, and would not have the memories to recognize this place, but Taichi would have if he'd thought to look this far. Jyou and Yamato recognized it now.
"That - that's Myotismon's castle!" Yamato exclaimed. "How did it get here? We destroyed it!"
"True," answered a voice like cold underground rivers, "but that is a very good copy, is it not?"
The two men and their 'mons turned to stare at the newcomer, taking in blue eyes, blonde hair, the distinctive mismatched wings.
"You're Chiaromon," said Jyou.
"Word spreads," said Chiaromon with a bow. "Welcome to my forest."
Yamato turned to the Digimon with icy fire in his eyes. "Explain that castle."
"I wanted it, so I had it built. It's as simple as that," Chiaromon replied. "I'm something of an admirer of Myotismon's. He did many great things. Terrible, certainly, but great. He came so close to ruling both worlds. One has to respect him for that."
"I don't," Yamato replied.
"Not my problem," said Chiaromon. "I can certainly understand your dislike of him, considering that your fate put him somewhat in your way. Given time, you'll learn I'm cut from a slightly different cloth. Different, but no less dangerous for all of that." He gave them a thin smile. "If my palace interests you, perhaps you'd like to examine it more closely? You are welcome to visit me there as long as you like."
"And I suppose if we go, we don't get any choice about when we leave?" asked Yamato.
"Of course not! Don't be silly. I said 'as long as you like.' If you fear locks and bars, I'll show you none. You will leave when you are ready to leave and go unobstructed. You have my word on it."
The Digidestined frowned; something didn't feel right about that remark. Villains just didn't go around inviting their enemies over for tea. Then again, perhaps he was being serious. A cobra didn't need to touch its prey to hold it captive. Jyou frowned, not liking the situation at all.
"I don't think we're going to visit you today," he said. "We just came by to see if you had seen someone, the daughter of a friend of ours."
"A child?" Chiaromon looked curious. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I've seen no children. I would like to, perhaps, but I haven't."
"Are you sure?" Yamato asked suspiciously.
"I wouldn't lie. I'm a gentlemon."
Yamato scowled at him. "I can't figure you out. You capture one of my best friends and lock him up and say he'd better open up a door to the Dark Ocean for you or you'll torture his Digimon until he gives in. Now you're telling us you're not the kind of person who would do something like that and promising not to hurt us. Something's not adding up."
Chiaromon grinned. "Didn't you know? I'm a split personality."
"Yeah, right," said Yamato. "Sure, I believe that one."
"It's true," Chiaromon answered. "It should be obvious." He gave his wings a flutter for emphasis. Yamato looked him over critically.
"Part angel, part devil, hm?" he queried.
"Precisely," said Chiaromon. For a moment, there was an expression of sadness on his face that even the suspicious Yamato couldn't pass off as faked. "They are forever at war within me, pushing me first one way, then the other. Sometimes I myself have no influence over what I do, but can only obey the force of whatever nature controls me at the time."
"So why all this?" asked Jyou, waving vaguely at the castle. "You aren't really going to use the tired old excuse that the devil made you do it?"
"I want answers," said Chiaromon. "More than anything else, I want to understand Good and Evil. My only dream is to understand, once and for all, which of the two is the more powerful. That is the nature of my great experiment."
"Ah," said Yamato. He seemed to be relaxing a bit. "So, you're not really out to hurt anyone, you just want to figure out which of these sides is the one you ought to be listening to. Is that is?"
"Yes," said Chiaromon. "Can you help me?"
"Well... I suppose it wouldn't hurt if you just wanted to talk for a while," said Yamato.
"Bad idea," Jyou whispered. "What happens if we get in there and his dark side breaks out? What if he's lying?"
"He's not lying," said Yamato. "You can see it in his eyes. He needs someone to help him. When you think about it, he's not that much different from Black WarGreymon."
"Black WarGreymon was a whole other ballgame," hissed Jyou urgently. "Yamato, I have this bad feeling that if we go in there, something really bad is going to happen. I don't want to follow this guy."
"It'll be all right," Yamato assured him. "Come on."
Chiaromon led Yamato, and Yamato followed, so there was nothing left but for a sadly sighing Jyou to trail along behind.
Unseen, unheard, someone watched with wide eyes until they all vanished, and then skittered off into the safety of the shadows.
"Are you planning on staying in there all day?"
Oki had gotten frustrated with Kata. It was all well and good for the kid to have his privacy, but he didn't need to live like a hermit, especially when there was someone else in the house. He could be just a little bit hospitable.
"I was," said Kata through the door. "Why should I come out?"
"Because it's rude to sit in there when you've got a guest," Oki replied.
"Do you really want to talk to me?"
"Um..."
"Well, I don't really want to talk to you either. We can save each other some trouble if we just stay on our own sides of the door," Kata said. "Now, go away. You're bothering me."
There was nothing to be said, so Oki simply stared at the closed door, glowering furiously. On the other side, he could hear RB's voice alternating with Kata's, as if they were arguing about something... as much as Kata could sound that way. Oki was beginning to suspect that the boy didn't have any other speaking voice but the tone of one who was patiently explaining things to an idiot.
"... have to talk about?" Kata said.
"People things," answered RB. "You've got to have something in common."
"I doubt it."
"Then talk about what's different."
"He wouldn't understand. He wouldn't even be interested. If I want to talk to someone, I can talk to you. Nobody else needs to get involved."
Oki listened, turning over this information in his mind. While he was still getting it all sorted and categorized in his mind, his attention was caught by something - a little noise, something unmusical but urgent. He looked around, searching for the source of the unfamiliar sound until Nami waddled up to tug at his pants leg.
"Your Digivice is going off," he said.
"Huh?" Oki looked down and saw that the device clipped to his belt was strobing red lights across its screen. "Uh-oh, that looks bad. Hey, Kata, come out of your cocoon and have a look at this!"
Apparently, that was enough to get the recluse's attention. Kata opened the door, his expression annoyed, but it was the kind of annoyance that masked curiousity.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Is your Digivice going off too?" Oki responded.
Kata looked puzzled for a moment. Then he dove back into his room and began rummaging through dresser drawers. The room, Oki noted, was a mess, littered with sheet music, CD discs, and other odds and ends. The walls were plastered with posters of bands from the present and past; a few, carefully framed, showed Mr. Ishida from his younger days when he'd been a star himself. At last, Kata held up a small device like Oki's, matching down to the flashing lights.
"Interesting," said Kata, studying it. "It's never done this before."
"There must be a problem in the Digital World," said Oki. "You don't think our dads are in trouble, do you?"
"Maybe..."
"Then maybe we should go check on them."
"What can we do?" asked Kata. "We don't know anything about the Digital World. We're just kids."
"That's how our parents were when they saved the world," Oki replied. "If you won't come, I'll go in alone."
"Come on, Kata, let's go with him," said RB quietly.
Kata paused, weighing the options. Finally he sighed.
"All right," he said, "but only for you."
"Great," said Oki, sounding almost cheerful. It was nice to have things going the way he wanted, for a change. "Let's get going. Where's the computer?"
Still looking rankled, Kata led the way into his father's room, where a computer stood waiting. Oki held up his Digivice and held it up to the computer like a holy relic.
"Digiport open!" he commanded, and they were whisked away in swirling lights.
They landed in open prairie land, surrounded on all sides by tall waving grass. Their arrival startled a small herd of grazing Unimon, who flew off in search of quieter territory. The boys shook themselves, discomfited by the sudden change of scenery.
"Well, here we are," said Kata, looking around. "Now what?"
"We follow the signal," Oki replied. He checked his bearings, then checked the Digivice. "That way."
"Yup, yup! Just follow our fearless leader!" chirped Nami. He began scampering up on Oki's shoulders again. "You follow, I ride."
"Fearless leader, hm?" said Kata, looking Oki up and down. "He doesn't look much like a leader to me."
Oki bit his tongue in order to stop himself from snapping back at him. Being sarcastic wouldn't do anything to draw Kata out of his self-imposed shell; if he didn't have something constructive to say, he had better not say it. Still, what he was wishing he could say that Kata didn't look like the sort who would be such an arrogant jerk. On the contrary, given another year or two, he would have quite a crowd of female followers. It was already visible in his face and bearing that he was going to be every bit as attractive as his father when he got older, and obviously with talent to match.
"Oki's a good leader," said Nami mischievously. "He likes to push people around."
"Obviously," said Kata, with what might have been the ghost of a smile. "We'll let him lead, then. Get moving, leader."
*I am not going to snap at him, I'm not, I'm not I'm not...* thought Oki, gritting his teeth.
They walked. Oki led the way, with frequent glances at the Digivice to make sure they were going the right direction, with Nami playing the part of the backseat driver. Kata ambled along behind, paying no attention to anything. He'd taken a pair of headphones out of his pocket, connected to a portable CD player at his belt, and he had slipped them on and zoned out, making no sound except when he forgot himself and started singing. His Digimon followed along in the attitude of a puzzled dog, looking up hopefully at his partner and then apologetically at Oki.
"You've got to understand," he said, "Kata doesn't much like people."
"We noticed," said Nami.
"He doesn't think they'll understand him," said RB. "Music is everything to him. If that's not your thing..."
"You can forget about talking to him," Oki finished. "I get it. An artistic snob."
"No! It's not like that," RB protested. "If you're not interested in music, you're not interested in Kata, so he figures he'll spare you the trouble."
"Ah," said Oki. "We'll have to work on that."
"No, you won't," said Kata, "and don't talk about me behind my back."
Oki flushed, momentarily wishing that there was a gopher hole he could drop down. Wishing desperately for a distraction, his gaze strayed to the horizon. There was someone else out there, he realized with a start. Not a Digimon, either - a human.
"Hey, look!" he said. "There's another boy up there."
"Hm?" Kata looked. "There is! What's he doing here?"
"Maybe he got the signal, too," Oki replied. "Think we should go talk to him?"
Kata considered a moment, then gave a judicious nod. The two of them began to run toward the distant figure. They hadn't gone far before whoever it was realized they were there and stopped walking, waiting for them to catch up. Soon they were close enough to get a good look at the stranger. They stopped dead in their tracks and stared.
Moving as one, their eyes inspected the stranger from top to toe, and then back up again. A pair of sandals were fitted to a pair of dainty little feet, which were in turn connected by trim ankles to a pair of graceful calves. Just above the knee, a pair of denim shorts fitted like a coat of paint to shapely thighs and hips, and then stopped low enough to give a glimpse of a curving waistline. If there had been any doubts of the newcomer's femininity by then, the shape her t-shirt fitted over erased them. Having made the journey that far, the boys gazed at the girl's heart- shaped face, investigating full lips and dazzling green eyes fringed with extravagant eyelashes. Her hair was cut boyishly short, but it was a rich shade of brown that flashed with gold and copper in the sunlight. She was altogether the most dazzling thing either of them had ever seen, and would have been even more so if she hadn't been staring at them with a scowl fierce enough to melt ice.
"What are you looking at?" she demanded.
"Nothing," they replied. Oki shut his mouth with a snap, realizing belatedly that it had dropped open to accommodate the fact that he'd been breathing a bit faster than usual.
"We were just surprised," he said quickly. "From a distance, you looked like a guy."
"Ah," said the girl. She looked mollified, even pleased by the explanation. "For a minute I thought you were going to start acting all stupid like the other guys I meet."
"Wouldn't dream of it," said Oki. Nami smacked him. "Ow! What was that for?"
"Telling lies," Nami whispered into his ear.
"So... are you the ones I called?" asked the girl.
"Called?" asked Oki. "You mean, you were the one who sent the signal?"
The girl pantomimed drawing a mark on a chalkboard. "Score a point for the boy in glasses! You might not be hopeless, after all. If you two are the ones I called, that must make you Oki and Kata. You're Oki, right?"
"Right," Oki replied. "Who are you?"
"Amarante," she answered. "Mary to my friends. And this is my partner, Rosebud."
"Hi!" called a voice at her feet. The boys looked down, surprised. They had been too busy looking at the girl to notice the Palmon that was blending into the tall grass. The 'mon waved a leaf-hand at them.
"Rosebud?" repeated Kata, looking surprised.
"Yeah, Rosebud," Mary repeated. She held up her fists, which were encased in black leather biking gloves. "You want to make something of it, punk?"
"No, no, no," said Kata hastily, backing a few paces away instinctively. "It's a great name, really."
Mary let her hands drop to her sides.
"I was just a kid when I named her," she said, sounding almost apologetic. "You know how kids are."
"Mine's named Nami," said Oki. "And that's RB."
"Your 'mons got cool names," Mary answered enviously.
"Hey," said Kata, shaking himself as if coming out of a trance, "aren't you the girl who disappeared? You weren't captured by Chiaromon, like Dad thought?"
"Me? Get nabbed by Chiaromon? No way!" said Mary. "I ran away from home."
"You did?" asked Oki. "What for?"
"My mom," said Mary, sighing. "She was driving me nuts. She was okay when I was a kid, but now that I'm growing up, she wants me to put on dresses and wear makeup and start trying to catch a boyfriend." She made a face, obviously nauseated at the idea. "I was thinking maybe if I dropped off the face of the world for a while, it would give her a little perspective. If she can't take me as I am, she can do without me. At the very least, when I go home, she might be so grateful to have me there that she won't care so much what I'm doing."
"I see," said Oki. Mary looked at him, checking for disapproval, and found none. Truthfully, he actually found himself admiring her. Here was the kind of person nobody told what to do.
*Not like some people,* the thought ruefully, and shoved the thought out of his mind.
"So, what did you call us for?" he asked instead.
"I called because of Chiaromon," answered Mary. "He's got your parents."
"What?" the boys exclaimed.
"He took them," Mary replied. "They went voluntarily, but I don't think they're coming out again."
Rosebud nodded. "Chiaromon's dangerous. He's got weird powers. I've heard the other Digimon talking about him. They say he's like a magnet with two poles, good and bad. Whatever kind of feelings are strongest in you, he'll bring them out. If there's any kind of weakness in you at all, he'll find it."
Kata looked indignant. "He won't hurt my dad. Dad's stronger than that."
"You gonna bet his soul on that?" asked Mary. "I wouldn't. All I've heard since I got here was stories about people going into that castle of his and not coming out, or if they do, being changed."
"So you propose we go in there and get our parents out?" asked Oki.
"That was the basic idea, yeah," Mary said. "I thought about doing it myself, but then I decided even I'm not that crazy."
"What happens if Chiaromon finds us?" asked RB nervously.
Mary shrugged. "We'll just have to make sure he doesn't, that's all."
"Great," Oki sighed.
"So, you coming or not?" asked Mary, looking impatient. "Don't tell me I've picked up a couple of chickens."
"We're coming," Kata said instantly.
"Well, Oki?" asked Nami, eyes narrowed slyly. "You going to let a girl and a little kid show you up?"
"I'm going," said Oki, "and I would have even if you hadn't said that!"
"Sure," Nami replied.
"Good," said Mary. "I knew I could count on you. Come on, the castle's this way."
"Over there?" asked Oki. The direction she was pointing showed the beginnings of a pine forest, dark and somber in the distance.
"What were you expecting? A paved highway and some neon lights?" Mary shot back.
Oki shut up. The three of them began to walk in awkward silence - awkward for some of them, anyway. Mary didn't seem bothered, marching along at a swift pace that left Oki very little to think about except trying not to pant from exertion. Kata was walking with a dazed expression, not taking his eyes off of Mary as she walked in front of him.
*Poor kid* thought Oki, managing a shred of pity. *Bet he regrets living in a bubble now. He's still so young... I'm willing to bet money this is the first time he's been really smitten with a girl. Maybe this will teach him something. She's not going to put up with his attitude, that's for sure, and she's too old for him... even if he is talented and good-looking and... darn it, I am not going to get jealous of Kata!*
Still, he thought, eyeing his new acquaintance, if he was going to be spending a lot of time with Mary in the future, jealousy might be very hard to avoid.
Yamato was having second thoughts. Thus far, Chiaromon was acting the part of the gracious host so well that he could find no fault with the performance, and even Jyou seemed to be lapsing into a resigned relaxation. The castle, what they were seeing of it, looked less than sinister - dark and shadowy, yes, but also clean and well-kept, with no evidence that this was anything more than the home of a man who simply didn't like bright lights. Those few Digimon they passed in the halls moved without fear; Chiaromon even addressed a few politely as they walked by. Everything seemed to be in order, and yet Yamato could not feel comfortable. Maybe it was some lingering influence of Myotismon's that made him feel as if the shadows here were palpable, even alive, as if they were brushing over him with a pressure he could feel. The Digimon seemed to feel it, too; they pressed close to their partners and jumped at small noises.
"Enter," said Chiaromon, stopping at a door and holding it open with a gracious bow. Having little choice, the men did as they were told, stepping through the portal and finding themselves in a richly furnished parlor. There was a window on one side, looking out on the southern exposure and the expanse of dark forest, making the room a few tints brighter than the rest of the castle. The furniture was colored in a rich, dark red fabric that shimmered like garnet. There were a number of shelves with books on them, elegant leather-bound volumes with leather bindings and gold leaf on the spines. A quick glance told Yamato that most of them seemed to be various histories of the Digital World and people who lived there, and though they had been well cared for, they were also much used. Pondering the novelty of a literary Digimon, Yamato took a proffered chair, and Jyou sat down next to him, while Chiaromon took the chair furthest from the window. A silver bell rested on a small table next to him, and he picked it up and rang it.
"Could I interest any of you in refreshments?" he asked. "I need little myself, but I thought a drink might put you a bit more at ease."
Even as he spoke, a Vegimon appeared, pushing a tea service. It carefully lifted a silver teapot and poured a stream of steaming green liquid into a pair of waiting silver teacups, which it offered to the Digidestined. They took the cups skeptically, staring into them without drinking.
"You think I would poison you?" asked Chiaromon. "Drug you, perhaps? You underestimate me. I am not so foolish as to think you would fall to such a ruse."
Jyou frowned at the teacup, then shrugged and took a sip.
"It's just green tea," he said. "Pretty good, actually. Better than I get at home."
"If you say so," Yamato replied. He took a drink. "You're right. It is good."
"You approve?" asked Chiaromon, looking mildly pleased. "I've never tried it myself, but one of my servants has a fondness for it. I'll tell him you like it. He will be most flattered."
"You don't act like I was expecting," said Jyou. "I've never seen a monster who was nice to his servants before."
Chiaromon laughed. "A monster? You are mistaken. I'm not a monster, or even a Virus. I'm a pure Data type... and certainly not a tyrant. I keep servants, not slaves or captives. They come to me willingly or not at all, and I make every effort to treat them fairly. If I cannot keep my followers' loyalty, or at least interest, I am not fit to rule them. Don't you think?"
"You talk like a good ruler," said Yamato thoughtfully. "If we knew we could trust you, we might even say you're a good thing to have here. You would, at least, discourage more dangerous creatures if they thought you had you to contend with."
"That is true," Chiaromon replied. "Would you suggest, then, an alliance?"
"What do you mean?" asked Yamato suspiciously.
"I mean, you help me discover what I want to know, and I help you protect this world. I admit freely that certain things have led me to believe that the Darkness is stronger than the Light, but if you can convince me that you are truly the greater power, I might be willing to help you."
Yamato frowned. He had a feeling he was walking on thin ice; this creature was too glib, his answers too rehearsed. There was a trap in here somewhere, if only he could see it. "What would it take to convince you?"
Chiaromon smiled. "Let me test you."
"Test?" Yes, this was a trap.
"A simple operation. A spell, in your terms, but really more of an exertion of influence. It shouldn't be difficult; I tried it once on your friend Ichijouji, and he recovered within an hour or so with no effects worse than a few bad memories. Surely you can do the same."
"You put a spell on Ken?" asked Jyou, surprised. "He didn't say anything about that."
"He wouldn't have known," Chiaromon replied. "All he thinks I did is remind him, and the memories were enough to depress him a while, but not crush him entirely."
"I get it," said Yamato slowly. "You did something to make Ken remember all the bad times, all the things he did as the Emperor, right? And now you want to do the same thing to us?"
Chiaromon nodded. "If light is the superior element in both of you, then any darkness I bring forth in you will not be enough to overcome it. Are you willing to take that gamble?"
Yamato considered. He knew what darkness was like. He'd been close to it many times, been engulfed in it completely, and he had always come out unscathed. Maybe he did have the inner strength to escape again...
"I'm game," he said. "Jyou?"
Hesitantly, Jyou nodded. "I'll try."
"Fine," said Chiaromon.
They didn't have time to prepare, or even a warning. Instead, they waited, and while they waited, it came, slowly and silently as a dark fog, until suddenly Yamato thought he'd been swallowed up by shadows, and in the shadows were memories...
He was a little child again, crying his heart out as he heard his parents were fighting again. They were breaking up, that his mother and brother were going away, and life was never going to be as good as it used to be...
He was eleven years old, a Digidestined carrying a Crest he didn't deserve. He had no friends; he didn't understand what friendship was like; nobody cared about him. The boy he thought was his friend had betrayed him, hadn't he? Tai was jealous of him, or hated him, always trying to tell him what to do. He would show that arrogant boy. Hate and hurt burned and filled his eyes with tears...
On and on the scenes played, showing him every time he'd been angry, afraid, sad, just wishing he could go away from the world and hide. He felt tossed around in the storm of emotion, but something held him anchored. He shook himself, forcing himself back to the present. All of this had happened a long time ago, and memories couldn't hurt him, not when he knew what things were like now. He did have friends - Taichi, Ken, Daisuke, all of the Digidestined. He had Sora and two beautiful children. He still had his family, who still loved him even though they were apart. He had Gabumon, of course, the one person who couldn't be taken away from him by anything. He had a good life, and he refused to give up on it. The darkness cleared.
"Nice try, Chiaromon," he said, "but not good enough."
Chiaromon only smiled, and Yamato felt his stomach sink. He turned to look at Jyou, who was still sitting as though frozen. His skin was paler than normal, and he was sweating, his eyes wide and staring at nothing... No, he was seeing something, something that shook him to the core. Gomamon was trying to shake him out of the trance, but Jyou didn't seem to feel him, even when the seal's claws raked at him in a way that looked painful.
"Something wrong, Mr. Kido?" he asked.
"It's all wrong," said Jyou shakily. "It's not what I wanted..."
"Really?" asked Chiaromon, his voice almost gentle. "Go on."
"Everyone's always telling me what to do... They told me what I was going to do, what I was going to be, and I never had any say in it. My father told me I was going to be a doctor, and I never got any other choice. He was always telling me to study harder, and then my brothers would tell me that I couldn't do it. They thought I wasn't good enough, not strong enough. Then I got pulled out of my home and told I had to save the world. I didn't want to, but they said it was fate. I couldn't fight it; I just had to go along. I had to see my friends get hurt and watch good people die, and I couldn't stop it. Now everyone's always after me to help them. I have to get up in the middle of the night to make me come out to their house because they were stupid enough to hurt themselves, or they're so important they can't wait until the morning. And I go, and what thanks do I get? None! I never have any time for myself. There's never been time for me at all. It's always what someone else wants! Never once in my whole life have I gotten to choose what I want!" His voice had risen steadily throughout the monologue until he was shouting at the top of his lungs, his face contorted in fury, breathing hard. The others watched, Yamato in shock, Chiaromon impassively.
"It feels good to finally say it, doesn't it?" the 'mon asked quietly.
"Yes." Jyou's voice had gone cold; his eyes looked frozen.
"Don't listen to him, Jyou," said Yamato. "You know it wasn't like that! He's messing with your mind."
"You keep out of it," Jyou snapped. "You don't know how it feels. People always liked you. You were so special - too good for me! Don't try to hide it - I know how you all felt about me. You laughed at me! You thought I was so funny, stupid Jyou, always worrying about something, always complaining. I was stupid to care about any of you."
"Jyou..." Gomamon said, appalled.
"And you keep out of it, too!" said Jyou. "You're as bad as any of them, making fun of me. I'm tired of having people make fun of me."
"But Jyou, you're my best friend," Gomamon protested. "Come on, snap out of it! You know I care about you."
"I'm tired of it," Jyou repeated. He did sound tired now; his initial rage used up, it sounded as if all his strength was gone. His eyes continued to stare without seeing; it was doubtful he could even hear what was being said to him. "I'm tired of all of it. I just... want... out."
There was a crackle like distant lighting, and darkness convalesced around Jyou, wrapping around him and crystalizing until he was sealed up inside something like hazy dark glass, like a fly trapped in amber. His expression was still contorted in anger and pain.
"Why, you...!" shouted Gomamon, lunging at Chiaromon. "Give me back my Jyou!"
Chiaromon flicked his hand and muttered something, and Gomamon fell in mid-stride. Yamato turned on the prince, eyes blazing.
"What have you done?" he demanded.
"Don't worry, the Digimon is only sleeping," said Chiaromon. "I consider it most humane to leave him that way while his partner is unavailable."
"Humane?!" Yamato shouted. "You call that humane? If you don't put Jyou back right now..."
"Threats are pointless," said Chiaromon mildly. "As I've said, I take no one who does not come to me willingly. Your friend agreed to the experiment. The darkness is his own, drawn to the surface. When he denied the light, he was encased in darkness, and that's all there is to it. Not only will I not free him, I cannot. My nature is half shadow; I lack the powers of light it would take to pierce that darkness."
"I'll kill you for this," Yamato snarled.
Chiaromon smiled. "You have a violent nature. What do you think would happen if you indulged it while the remnants of my spell are present? Give in to that anger, and you might kill me... but think of what would happen to you if you did."
Yamato stared, anger flaring in his eyes... but that slowly dimmed to a dull smolder. He sighed.
"That's better," said Chiaromon. "Go home now. He has a wife and child, does he not? They will need to know what has become of him. You are useless to me. You will leave unobstructed."
"I hope the roof falls in on you," Yamato growled.
Chiaromon shrugged. "I will die."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I am conscious of my lifespan, Ishida. You may yet live to see me die. If it pleases you, then perhaps it will not be a total loss."
Yamato shook his head. "Come on, Gabumon. I want out of here."
Gabumon nodded, and the two of them hurried away. Yamato stole one last glance over his shoulder to look back at Jyou, and regretted it. He pulled the door shut tight behind him and fled down the halls. Chiaromon chuckled, walking closer to the black crystal to peer at the figure inside. His hands brushed the surface of the prism as he studied Jyou's expression, and his own face shifted to that odd, sad look that surfaced at odd moments.
"Was this how I looked?" he wondered. "When I first saw the Darkness... is this how it looked?"
"Don't look now, but we've got trouble."
"Huh?" Oki, alerted by the whisper in his ear, disobeyed by looking around. "I don't see anything."
"Neither do I, but I smell it," Nami replied. "Hey, RB, put your nose to work and tell me something weird isn't around here."
RB turned his snout skyward and checked the air. "I smell Digimon... not nice ones."
Mary stopped walking and looked around. They had reached the pine forest, and were surrounded by green-black shadows and rusty trunks. In all the darkness, it was next to impossible to make out anything clearly. She put her hands on her hips and glared at the forest in general.
"All right," she said. "Who's out there? Show yourself!"
"What do you think you're doing?" Kata demanded.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" she replied. "I figure, if something's after us, it's better for it to come out now and let us get it over with, instead of pouncing on us later. Looks like it's not going to come out, though, does it?"
"Maybe you scared it," said Rosebud. "It can't be very brave if it's hiding in the shadows, can it?"
"I bet it was just you guys' imaginations," Mary said. "There's nothing here that's going to-"
Unfortunately, there was. Before she could finish what she was saying, their was a shrill shriek, and a number of small, bat-winged creatures dropped out of the shadows of the trees, chittering and showing off sets of sharp teeth and claws.
"Vilemon," Oki hissed. "Rats!"
"Okay, so maybe I was wrong," said Mary. "Ugh, get out of my way, you creepy things!"
She aimed a kick at a Vilemon that had come too clase, sending it soaring through the air and slamming into a tree. It slid to the ground with a small moan.
"Poison Ivy!" shouted Rosebud, lashing her vines around two of the enemy Digimon. She lifted them up and slammed them into each other before dropping them in disgust.
"What in the world?" Kata had turned pale and was watching the Digimon nervously.
"Pesky little demons," Oki muttered. "Champion types, but not very powerful." He watched as Nami tackled one and smacked it senseless with a flipper. "Obviously."
"Blue Blaster!" shouted RB, spitting out a spray of azure flame that singed a small group of attackers. "Don't worry, Kata, we'll handle these things!"
Just then, four of them tackled Rosebud from behind, throwing her to the ground. Mary waded into the fray, picking up Digimon and throwing them, but more and more kept coming. Oki was backing away frantically as a small group of them tried to corner him. Nami was trying to defend him, but there was only so much that could be accomplished by flying fish. Kata looked petrified, and RB had his paws full trying to defend him.
"Or not," he said. "There are just so many of these things!"
"I wish I knew how to make this thing work!" Oki muttered, scowling at his Digivice. "Does anyone know how to get to the Champion level?"
There was no answer; the other children were too busy fighting for their lives, or at least trying to keep their fingers firmly attached - the Vilemon were snapping at any body part that came within the reach of their sharp teeth. Mary yelped as one's claw nicked her leg, and she sent it flying with a swift kick.
Suddenly, a shadow fell over the battlefield, and humans and 'mons alike looked up to see what had blocked out the light. Soaring gracefully through the sky was...
"An angel?" said Oki, eyes widening.
The flying thing dropped from the sky and landed in the center of the battlefield, letting itself be seen by all. It was a woman, but taller than any human, dressed in white garments that fitted like a second skin and a stole of flowing pink ribbon that hovered around her, defying gravity. Her statuesque face was partly covered by an iron mask. She had long hair the color of jet and a pair of matching black wings. Though her eyes couldn't be seen, everyone had the feeling she was staring at the monsters with a burning anger.
"Celestial Arrow!" she called.
A bow sprang from her wrist, and she pulled an arrow of light from it and let fly. Several of the Vilemon exploded in bursts of light and data. The rest, seeing a second arrow aimed at them, fled from the power of an angry Ultimate. Glancing around to make sure there was no more danger, the angel knelt down to put herself at eye level with the young Digidestined.
"Are any of you hurt?" she asked. Her voice was strong and authoritative, but there was a softer undercurrent to it.
"We're fine," said Mary. "At least, I am. You guys all right?"
"Yeah," Oki answered, and Kata nodded.
"That is good," the angel replied. "You should not have come here. This forest is a place of dark things. The Lord of Demons is making himself felt here again. As his power grows, so do his minions become bolder. It won't be long before they are too much to be controlled."
"The Lord of Demons?" repeated Oki. "Would that be Chiaromon?"
The angel shook her head. "No. Chiaromon has not yet devoted himself to Darkness. I speak of one much darker, one whose name my kind fear to speak. Do not ask me for it."
"Can we ask your name, then?" asked Mary.
The angel hesitated. Then she said, "I am called Ebon Angewomon."
"Ebon," Oki repeated. "Doesn't that mean 'black'? But you're not a fallen angel, are you?"
"Fallen? Perhaps. But not evil - never that," Ebon Angewomon replied. "I am in mourning. You see, I once had a son, but lost a battle with the Demon Lord. Since then, I have mourned, for he was everything to me." She sighed deeply. Then she shook herself. "But what are children doing here, in a dark place like this? Have you no homes to go to?"
"I've run away," said Mary, and for once, she sounded a bit abashed by the statement.
"You have?" asked Ebon Angewomon. "What for?"
"Because of my mother," Mary answered. "She was always trying to run my life her way. She didn't care what I wanted."
"Unwise," said the angel. "She should be grateful to have a child at all. And the rest of you?"
"Our fathers were taken by Chiaromon," Oki replied. "We were going to look for them."
"Ah. That will be difficult. Once Chiaromon has something, it is not easily released," Ebon Angewomon replied. "Still, I know what it is to have lost something. If there is anything I can do to change the situation, I will do it."
"Thanks," said Oki. "I'm sure we could use the help."
"Only too glad. I am fond of children," the angel said, smiling. Oki felt a warm rush, and a smile crept over his face as well. When an angel smiled at you, it was hard not to smile back.
Just then, they heard a rustling in the underbrush, and someone walked into view - someone leading a Gabumon. Kata's eyes widened.
"Dad?" he said.
"Kata!" Yamato exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you," Kata replied. "We got a distress signal - Oki said I should come."
"Oh," said Yamato. "Well, you shouldn't have. This isn't a place for kids." Then he stopped. "What am I saying? Of course this is - never mind. I'm all confused."
"Where's my dad?" asked Oki, staring off into the forest. "Isn't he with you?"
Yamato sighed. "No, he's not. I don't know how to say it, but... Chiaromon took him. the Darkness was just too much for him."
There was a flash of anger in Oki's eyes.
"I knew it," he muttered. "I knew he couldn't take it!"
"We'll get him back," said Ebon Angewomon. "Don't worry, child. The Darkness will be broken." Turning to Yamato, she said, "Let me help you, for the sake of the children. I want to see and end to the shadows as much as you do."
"Thanks," said Yamato. "I'll take the boys home, now, and see if I can explain to Oki's mother that Jyou's not coming home to dinner tonight."
Ebon Angewomon nodded. "I'll be here. If any of you are ever in danger, call, and I'll find a way to come."
"And what about me?" asked Mary, half-defiant, half-worried.
"You should go home," said Ebon Angewomon. "Your mother will be worried."
"Worried is an understatement," Yamato said. "She was having hysteric fits, last I heard."
Mary sighed. "All right. Back out the next Digiport I see."
"I'll just watch you, to make sure you don't manage to get lost," said Yamato. "We don't need any more lost people today."
They walked off in search of the portal home, and Kata fell in stride next to Oki.
"I'm sorry about your dad," he said quietly.
"It's okay," Oki answered. "I sort of expected it. He's never been the resilient type."
"We're going to get him back," said Kata. "Don't worry."
There was a moment of silence. Then Kata added, "Oki?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks... for making me come with you," he said. A ghost of a smile played across his face. "I sort of enjoyed it. It was different."
"You're welcome," Oki replied.
Somewhere inside, he felt comforted. Just when he needed one, he seemed to have found a friend.
The mutant lurked in the deepest shadows Chiaromon's dark castle had to offer, staring in horrified fascination at the thing his master had left in the room. This room was Chiaromon's special project, something he had worked for months on to create the way he wanted it. It was built beneath the ruins of the old palace, carved out of the living rock where the shadows had lay thick and undisturbed for eons. The walls and ceilings were little more than a rough-cut dome of rock, but the floor had been leveled until it was perfectly flat, smooth as marble. Then a pattern had been carved into it, a huge seven-pointed star, and within the rays were other symbols that the mutant didn't care to look at. In the center stood a pedestal marked with more carving. At each tip was a depression, and set into one of these was the black crystal. The mutant felt a bit sick just looking at it, but Chiaromon was standing back admiring it as if it were a work of art.
"You should be proud of yourself," he told the figure encased in the stone. "You are the first. Don't worry; others will join you shortly. Then the real fun will begin."
The mutant shuddered; he wasn't clear on what his master's idea of "fun" was, but he didn't think he'd like it. The movement must have caught Chiaromon's attention, for he turned his piercing eyes to the shadow.
"You didn't think you could hide from me, did you?" he asked. "Don't lurk like that. If you want to look, come out and gaze your fill."
The mutant winced; he'd forgotten that his eyes glowed in the dark. Reluctantly, he came out to stand at his master's side. From there, he could clearly see the contorted expression on the captured human's face.
"Your thoughts?" Chiaromon inquired.
"He looks so unhappy," the mutant said sadly. "I feel sorry for him."
"Yes," said Chiaromon thoughtfully. "You would. You feel things deeply, don't you? Far more than I am capable of. You felt sorry for the last one, too, didn't you?"
The mutant nodded. "He was kind to me..." He clapped a hand over his mouth, realizing too late what that implied.
"I see. You befriended the captive, and you just couldn't stand to see your friend unhappy."
"Please, Master, I couldn't help it..." the mutant babbled.
For a moment, Chiaromon's eyes flickered red. Then, amazingly, he regained control of himself. His expression was cold, but not angry.
"I should have known," Chiaromon said slowly. "Despite what I would have had you be, you've always belonged to the Light and not to me. I can't control you. Neither can I kill you. And I certainly can't leave you here to throw off my experiment. It seems I am left with only one option. Much as I regret it, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
"What?" asked the mutant, shocked. He didn't enjoy living in Chiaromon's palace and dealing with his berserk rages, but at least he knew what to expect. Better a known danger than an unknown.
"You are hereby banished," said Chiaromon sternly. "Let me never see you again."
"But where am I to go?" the mutant asked.
"Anywhere, as long as it isn't here," Chiaromon replied. "Now, get going!"
The mutant, fearful of his master's wrath, jumped to obey. Chiaromon watched him go. Then, as a thought struck him, he called out, "And take that teapot with you!"
The mutant froze in midstep and turned around to see if his master was serious. He was. The mutant turned around again and began walking away, more slowly now. Chiaromon turned back to his prisoner, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
"Too bad," he was murmuring. "I actually rather liked him..."