A/N: Thank you to vampirelucemon and Mariella for reviewing! It's nice to see someone who's actually interested in continuing the DA series. Please, don't hesitate to review! And just to let you know, I'll be updating at least once every two weeks or so, but it depends on how many activities I have. Here is chapter three. Enjoy!
Chapter 3
The Ocean Beyond
A Virus… a Virus… a Virus…
Angemon's spiteful utterance reverberated through the air, which seemed to reflect them back at an either greater amplitude.
A Virus… a Virus… a Virus…
Not a Vaccine… not even a Data… but a Virus.
You are not one of us! You never were!
You are killing your own children!
Even when you were still AngeMyotismon, I knew that you were not one to be trusted…You are not one of us! You never were!
A Virus… a Virus… a Virus…Every single word spat out by Angemon seemed to strike Myotismon through his burning scar into his heart and bring tears to his eyes. He saw nothing ahead of him; nothing behind him; nothing above him… except a vision of Angemon spun by his mind. The memories of everything the angel had done to him seemed to rush at him and surround him with an overwhelming sense of failure, from the moment prior to this when he fell into pure darkness to nearly a year ago when he first encountered Angemon and WereGarurumon in Tokyo. Nothing could have defeated him…
His sense of failure grew into vindication. He clenched his fists together and clamped his jaw shut, breathing through his nose like a fierce bull about to charge at a matador. All of a sudden, the opaque, black haze that surrounded him seemed to thin out, and Myotismon could see the outline of a rocky shore with what appeared to be a Dark Tower atop it, standing on the edge like a sentry.
I don't want to… but I despise Angemon for what he did to me… he thought to himself, seeing everything before him grow clearer. All of a sudden, he felt himself plunging into water so cold, it felt like liquid nitrogen against his bare skin. The vampire glanced downwards and saw that the water was not exactly water; more like liquid metal which reflected the grey tones of the sky above it. In front of him, a cape jutted out of a larger continent and into the turbulent water as the horrid waves crashed against the massive shale plates of rock that lined it. A lighthouse sat calmly on the edge of the cape, emitting beams of black light which gave the illusion of a negative photograph.
"Are you familiar with a dimension known as the Dark Ocean?"
"What have I done?" Angemon sat on the railing of the balcony and buried his face shamefully in his hands. His wings fell limp and cloaked his back. Although he never cried, he felt enough emotions convulsing inside him that he could have if he desired.
Rainfall.
The sound of rain hitting the ground echoed in the angel's ears, though the cloud was digital and space was infinite. In the digital world, a gentle rain washed away the soiled ground to escort new life.
Angemon shook his head in his palms. "What have I done?" he repeated to himself before removing his helmet and placing it among the shards on the glass-littered, marble floor. Then he covered his eyes with his hands once again, feeling how cold they were against his burning eyes. "He was an angel… like myself… and… and…"
Suddenly his guilt switched to another recollection from four centuries prior to this event; before he knew that he had been assigned to Takeru Takaishi as a digital partner; before the vampire had even digivolved from his DemiDevimon stage; before the digital world had even completed rebuilding itself from the thousands of wars between the Digimon; before peace emerged in the digital world only to be disturbed by a greater evil, leading to more…
PyroAngemon.
Whatever had become of him?
Whatever had Angemon done to him?
Whatever had Angemon done to ruin everything, to change everything that the heavenly kingdom of Civitas Dei stood for?
Four hundred years ago in the digital world, the Angel Digimon in Civitas Dei and the lesser earthly Digimon below them were still intertwined in their worlds—reminiscent of the Old Testament in the Bible, where God spoke freely to His people and angels ran up and down staircases from Heaven to Earth… Angels spoke freely with the Data and Vaccine Digimon below and intervened with the threatening Viruses who were incomparable to the malevolence in the present day…
Both Angemon and PyroAngemon were two of the twelve members of the Grand Councel of Angels. Headed by Seraphimon, the Grand Angel of the Digital World, the twelve Angel Digimon were like the Parliament of Civitas Dei—enforcing the unbroken laws of the heavens; advising Seraphimon as well as the lesser Angel Digimon and even a small number of earthly digital beings; being the eyes, ears, and voice of Seraphimon. For centuries and even millennia, these twelve angels—Angemon, Angewomon, MarineAngemon, PyroAngemon, FloraAngewomon, Pegasusmon, Nefertimon, Auroramon, Estrellamon, Ophanimon, Cherubimon, and ArchAngemon—had worked together harmoniously.
Unfortunately, as even the most beautiful of songs must end, this harmony led to a discord so sharp, it upset the entire balance between the digital heavens and the rest of the digital world.
Like Heaven had its fallen angel Lucifer, Civitas Dei had its share of rogue angels, but it seemed that all had been cast down to Earth to become Virus digimon or sent through the Gate of Destiny into the Dark Ocean… all except one.
PyroAngemon.
Had it been him?
No.
Angemon thought it had been the fiery one. Hell was described as a roaring inferno filled with torturous fire and brimstone. The colors of evil had always been blood-red and black as a demon's heart. With PyroAngemon's tousled, coal-black hair and the crimson undertones of his attire, he stood out against the whites, blues, and pastels of the other members of the Grand Council. Angemon knew that PyroAngemon would be up to no good.
On that fateful day, as the sky's hues changed from clear blue to a blazing spectrum of golds and scarlets, the Council were seated in their room—a room with a crystal ceiling supported by Ionic columns, a fountain in the center of the marble floor—on a balcony atop the Grand Palace that overlooked all of the world. Twelve silver thrones draped in twelve different colors of cloth were arranged in a semicircle before Seraphimon's golden throne draped in white. Eleven of the twelve thrones had an angel seated in it. Seraphimon's was vacant, for he was intervening in an inevitable war, which was understandable. The one draped in crimson was empty, and that spawned a different reaction.
"PyroAngemon again!" murmured ArchAngemon, who was the eldest member as well as the first chosen. "As a member of the Council," he announced to the other angels, "he must learn that he must attend the meetings, or else have a plausible excuse for not doing so. Does he not realize that he is dangerously close to expulsion?"
"ArchAngemon, please," wheedled Auroramon, who seemed to be the most liberal and forgiving of others' faults. "Can't you give him another chance? He is the newest member, after all…"
"Auroramon, do you not realize that he has been a member for one hundred years already, and he is repeadedly missing our evening gatherings?" ArchAngemon pointed out. "Not only has he done so, but where was he when we fought Apollyonmon? Where was he when the Great Flood threatened to wipe out half of the digital world?"
"Fiddling while Rome burned," murmured Pegasusmon.
"In other words," said Nefertimon from beside the winged horse, "finding his own, more 'important' activities instead of being loyal to the Council."
"I am perfectly aware of what you mean," retorted Auroramon, hints of condescention in her voice. "I still believe that as angels, we must be tolerant of our own kind. Angemon, I have overheard you comparing PyroAngemon to the Devil simply because his element is fire. That is nothing but a stereotype!"
As the angels quarreled, Angemon stared to the east, knowing that there was something amiss in that very place, unaware that the creator of celestial phenomena had made a reference to him.
"Do you remember, Auroramon, the virus that was set loose in our kingdom and… killed… three of our own kind?" questioned Nefertimon. "Only an angel can create a virus potent enough to wipe out another angel. Not even the strongest Virus type can do so. I have a premonition that PyroAngemon is attempting to wipe out the angels to bring the digital world to an end."
"I think he's too lazy to do that," remarked Estrellamon. "He doesn't even come to our meetings half the time—"
"What do you think he might be doing?" hinted the sphynx digimon.
Angemon remained silent; he stared at a patch of cloud that had suddenly turned black, and the color was bleeding through to the rest of it.
PyroAngemon. The Fallen Angel.
Without his intuition and obligation to hold him back, he left his throne, sprinted to a gap in the columns, leapt off the balcony, and flew quickly to the scene. He was horrified—yet not surprised—to see none other than PyroAngemon standing over a lesser Angemon (whose hair was white and whose clothing was crimson instead of cerulean) who was on his back, supporting himself with his elbows. PyroAngemon withdrew a sword with a golden blade from the scabbard secured around his left leg, then pointed it at the other angel's neck. Fearfully, the lesser Angemon tried to back away, his mouth contorted and his teeth clenched. Sweat dripped down the side of his face as the blade began to glow and small flames flickered on the metal.
"Say your prayers, Angemon," threatened the angel of fire, bringing the blade closer to the lesser Angemon's neck, so close one inch separated life from death.
"PYROANGEMON! WHAT IN HEAVEN'S NAME ARE YOU DOING!" bellowed Angemon, causing PyroAngemon's head to turn and the lesser Angemon to back away, stand up, and fly off.
PyroAngemon glared at Angemon, then shot off like a fireball in pursuit of the crimson angel. Angemon flew off like a white comet into the sunset, chasing after the fallen PyroAngemon.
"Hand of Fate!" He thrust his fist at the air in front of him, but PyroAngemon had transformed himself into pure flame, and the attack phased right through him and shot off into the distance. PyroAngemon glared at him and flew even faster until he had nearly caught up with the lesser Angemon, who appeared desperate to escape him.
"Heaven's Flame!" PyroAngemon underwent a further transformation, as his golden flames turned a bright white and his six wings turned into blue-hot fires so hot, everything that touched them turned to ash. He seemed to increase in speed, and he flew around the lesser Angemon, igniting the feathers on his wings until they became nothing but fire themselves. Angemon looked on with horror and wished he knew how to extinguish them as the lesser Angemon cried out for his life, writhing, convulsing, then falling onto the surface of the cloud, directly on the edge. His six wings had become featherless rods protruding from his back, as black as coal, moving on their own, then falling onto his back.
Angemon could not avert his eyes, and he knew that he had to save his lesser counterpart lest he fall to the surface and die. He rushed towards him, but did not do so in time.
PyroAngemon raised his sword and held it over the lesser Angemon, feebly kneeling on the surface of the cloud, his entire body streaked with burns and ash, begging for forgiveness with the tears streaming from his eyes, for he knew of a ritual that was feared among all angels in Civitas Dei.
"Angemon, with the power of Seraphimon and the Grand Council, I hereby deprive you of your title of 'Angel' and forever banish you from the digital heavens!" PyroAngemon's sword glowed, and he swung it until it hit the top of the other Angemon's helmet, which fell apart to reveal a head of silvery hair and two crimson eyes, as well as a small pair of horns that Angemon could not see. As the lesser Angemon's mouth still formed "No, no, please, no!", PyroAngemon callously sliced off all six wings, one by one.
And then—
A bolt of lightning struck the lesser Angemon, who was no longer called Angemon. One millisecond later, all that remained was a thin pillar of white smoke.
The fallen angel was gone, never to return to Civitas Dei again.
Angemon was appalled. Horrified. Furious. He stared at PyroAngemon, who still glared at him. Then, for one brief moment, the fiery angel surrendered himself.
The trial was that night. Ten of the twelve Council members were seated in the courtroom, with Seraphimon at the highest podium and Angemon holding the diety of the flame before them in shackles and handcuffs. It was extremely similar to that of AngeMyotismon's trial four hundred years following, but the punishment was much more humiliating.
PyroAngemon spent hours trying to explain himself—that the Angemon from whom he had removed the helmet and wings was a fallen angel, and that very Angemon was the one who created the virus because he wanted to wipe out the angels and control the entire digital world. PyroAngemon sent him to the remote File Island to detain the fallen angel and ensure that he would never escape.
However, Angemon utilized every piece of evidence that counted against him, even those that did not relate to the event involving the other Angemon. Because Angemon was more loyal to the Council and had established a stronger bond with the other angels on it, the others believed him.
Only Angewomon and Auroramon had sympathized with PyroAngemon.
With one decree, Seraphimon had expelled PyroAngemon from the Council, replacing him with an angel named Metatrimon. In the years to come, PyroAngemon was considered a fallen angel who was let off too easily, a vigilante who played by his own rules, and even the demon who wanted to control the entire digital world. The kingdom of Civitas Dei was shut off from the earth so no other rogue angels could enter or even re-enter… all because of Angemon and his fiery brother.
Even Vaccines like PyroAngemon can seem evil… but unlike the Virus types, they commit wrongful actions through their good intentions.
That fallen Angemon had become the very Devimon whom the digi-destined fought on File Island. He had been defeated by the very angel who almost saved him.
Still, Pyro's actions were unforgivable. He should have had the authority of the council before condemning Devimon to File Island.
And yet… through his death at the hands of Myotismon Shadow Mode, he might have saved Angewomon's life by letting me know where she was.
"Earth."
He would have broken his promise no matter what he had done.
He had no chance to repent.
He might have been sent to the Dark Ocean as well…
In a room below the surface of the rocky cape, InfernoDevimon entered through the doorway and saw that the DemiDevimon was still there, still at his desk, but not seated as usual. He was perched on top, reading a plan that he had drawn up long ago… when he was still an Ultimate. InfernoDevimon cleared his throat, and the imp glanced upwards.
"Yes?" he asked in a raspy voice, causing a shiver to travel down the demon's spine as if he were still speaking in the voice of his Ultimate form. "What do you wish of me, InfernoDevimon?"
"Lord DemiDevimon," said the demon, bowing adamantly, "Your pawn… he has arrived. He is making his way to shore as we speak. I saw him from the window on the upper floor."
"Excellent," said DemiDevimon, referring to the fact that Myotismon was in the Dark Ocean. He could not have cared less about his own minions.
"Do you want me to…" began InfernoDevimon, before the Rookie held out a wing to silence him.
"Not at the moment," replied DemiDevimon, glowing the same ice-blue as his eyes. "For now, I would like you and the rest of the Demon Corps to remain out of sight. I will personally bring Myotismon to you." His wings and body began to transform. "For the present… I shall be feeding directly off of his darkness… you shall soon see me in my full glory!"
Myotismon…
InfernoDevimon wondered where he had heard that name before. It was more than merely déjà vu—long ago, he believed he had been familiar with the vampire.
I only serve the one named Daemon!
But had he? It seemed that a long time ago… he was called by another name… that was when he knew…
Your scar for him is merely a blemish on the surface… but what you did to him inside is absolutely priceless.
He had not given Myotismon the scar on purpose…
Won't you get even stronger if I attack an angel…?
InfernoDevimon was the only one who knew. It was not his intention to scar Myotismon. It seemed to him that the vampire was the last being that he would ever want to hurt in that manner. If Angewomon and Angemon had not been with him…
The scar was meant for Angemon.
"Angemon?" Wizardmon floated down from Angewomon's room and gently landed on the railing of the balcony. Cat-like, he sat down beside his good friend, who appeared to have been crying for the first time.
The angel looked off to the side, his helmet off his head. His beautiful face was streaked with tears, and the stray strands of his long hair clung to it. "Wizardmon…" he murmured, staring upwards, then at the place where the vampire last stood. "I made a horrible mistake…"
"Angemon, Myotismon created that virus centuries ago… I remember perfectly… he had no intention of…"
"It is not just him, my good friend… PyroAngemon."
"Who is PyroAngemon?"
"A fallen angel… I will tell you about him."
After what had seemed like hours, the vampire finally waded onto the sandy beach, out of which the rocky cape protruded. His legs were exhausted, as the sea seemed to drain him of his energy. They felt as if they were made out of the very waters of the Dark Ocean itself. He collapsed onto the wet sands of the shore, leaving an indentation of his body and the side of his head. The grains slid around and chafed his skin, while his own white cloak weighted him down, pressing him onto the grey sand. He lay there for several minutes until a voice startled him.
"Who is that lying on the sand? Are you a Digimon?"
"Who said that?" The vampire gathered the strength to lift his upper body, then glanced around. Grey grains still clung to what touched the beach.
"I did!" exclaimed a childish voice from near his feet. The being seemed to giggle.
Myotismon turned around, then saw a Poyomon on the shore, jumping around at his feet. He turned over and sat on the beach, still weighted by his white cape. He was slightly taken aback to discover that this particular Digimon infant was not the usual breed found in Primary Village. Although everything in the Dark Ocean had undertaken grey hues, this Poyomon's ice-blue eyes stood out starkly against its skin. (Digimon were always ungendered at their infant stage—gender was generally determined at their In-Training or Rookie stages.) It resembled a blob of ink with sapphires stuck in the front. What was most astounding was not the fact that this Poyomon was discolored—it was the exact breed of Poyomon that Myotismon had been as an infant.
The vampire's mind could not hold back his agonizing past in Primary Village eight hundred years before, when he was a Poyomon. Because he was coal-black with sapphire eyes instead of pure white with ebony eyes, the other Baby Digimon tormented and teased him. Even the Elecmon who guarded the village at the time deftly ignored him. Poyomon could not have done anything, for all he was capable of doing was floating. He could not even speak or move, much less fight back with words or violence.
This Poyomon must have suffered like I had as a child…
The vampire immediately took pity on the poor infant. "Hello, my child," he said, attempting to smile at it.
Poyomon did not even seem the slightest bit frightened by Myotismon's pearly fangs. "Are you… a vampire?"
"Unfortunately, yes," replied Myotismon, staring at his boots. The silver bat and moon were appallingly tarnished, but he did not care. "I am supposed to be an angel, but it was announced to me that I am actually… a Virus. More vampire than angel, more beast than man."
"You don't seem like a beast to me," remarked the infant Digimon. "You're very beautiful."
Myotismon had never recalled being called beautiful by anyone other than Angewomon, and was abashed by this. "I… am?" he asked.
"Oh, yes," replied Poyomon. "Even with your fangs, you have the face of an angel. I think you actually are one."
You have the face of an angel. I think you actually are one.
You are not one of us! You never were!
Angemon's and Poyomon's speeches seemed to fight each other for a brief moment, then die down. He dared not tell this young infant about his diabolical actions in the past… bloodlust; megalomania; torture; rape… and never about the virus and Angewomon… his trial and banishment… anything…
"You must remember that beauty is only skin deep," the vampire suddenly explained, then decided to change the subject. "Why are you in the Dark Ocean? It does not seem like an innocent child should be condemned like this…"
"I was tormented in Primary Village… and…" Poyomon's quivering voice dropped to a whisper, "…I attacked the other infants… then I got so scared of Elecmon I… I just…" It burst into tears. The vampire placed his hand on it to calm it down and let it know that he felt its pain.
"I, too, was a Poyomon like you," he said. "I was tormented beyond what can be described."
Poyomon sniffled and glanced up at its new mentor. "You were?"
The vampire nodded once.
"What happened after that?"
"Many, many terrible things that I do not wish to discuss with you. You are too young to understand some, and others, I wish for you not to know of ever."
Poyomon said nothing. It understood.
"Tell me, Poyomon, where must I stay?" he wondered, feeling a sudden draft and seeing that the sky, though blanketed with clouds, was growing darker.
"Wait… what is your name?"
"My name is Myotismon Celestial Mode, but I am merely known as Myotismon."
"I've heard of you! You were in all the scary stories Elecmon told me! But I never thought you were… you know… real. And if you were, I thought you'd be dressed in a blue suit and a black cape, and wear a bright red mask, and be followed everywhere by bats!"
"That would have been true one year ago, but I was transformed into an angel and… I changed my ways."
"So… you're not mean anymore?"
"No…" I sincerely hope not.
"Then what are you doing here?"
"I do not know…"
Poyomon remembered what it was going to say. "Oh yeah! I think the ocean's been waiting for you! Do you see that lighthouse over there? The one that shines the black light?"
"Yes, I do."
"I think that lighthouse has been reserved just for you by the leader." He paused. "Myotismon?"
"Yes?"
"Um… do you think… I… can I stay in the lighthouse? Just for tonight? It gets really cold out here at night, and there are monsters in the forest and giant squids in the sea that try to eat me!"
"Of course you can, Poyomon. You can be my companion."
"Really? I can stay with you then?"
"Yes, Poyomon. You may."
Poyomon let out a delighted squeal, then floated onto the vampire's shoulder as he tried to stand up. When he managed to do so, he stumbled a few times before regaining his balance. He walked along the shore until he reached the cape. The climb onto the rocks was quite arduous, and it was nearly nightfall and the temperature had dropped to freezing before he made it.
The door to the lighthouse opened on its own, and light flooded in. The main room seemed to have been furnished on its own, with lamps shaped like candles, comfortable leather chairs, shelves full of books, walls decorated with pictures of beach scenes, and a wooden floor with a crimson rug. The glow alone provided warmth to the vampire, who regretted wearing such a scanty ensemble in such a cold environment. He was astonished that a structure in a dimension so dismal would be so pleasantly furnished.
"You look like you could use a bath," remarked Poyomon. "Maybe there's one upstairs."
Myotismon looked at himself to see that his entire front side was covered with sand and dirt, and a few strands of black seaweed clung to his legs. He smiled warmly at the Poyomon and immediately went up the stairs.
Hours later, the vampire and the infant Digimon were in the single bedroom that was just under the light. He wore a pair of silken nightclothes over his dried Celestial Mode ensemble (minus the cape, boots, and gloves, of course) and was settled in a rustic feather bed with warm covers and down pillows, and his pet had curled up at the foot. Myotismon had found himself to be quite content after bathing and settling in the living room with an ancient, yellowed piece of literature and a glass of brandy, which had tasted so much different from wine or blood.
"This is such a lovely place, I don't ever want to leave!" exclaimed Poyomon, gazing at the vampire.
"Nor do I, Poyomon," replied Myotismon. He turned off the light on his bedside table and was so exhausted, he fell asleep within a minute. The candles dimmed on their own, leaving Poyomon alone, still watching its mentor.
Poyomon floated off the bed, and it began to quiver with excitement. All of a sudden, it began to glow ice-blue, bathing the room in its light.
Then the light died down.
Poyomon was no longer there…
To be continued…