The Recruitment
by Darkangemon
Evil never truly dies... It just finds a new outlet
Dust and ashes blew across the construction site VenoMyotismon was defeated,
or so the Digidestined thought.
Myotismon opened his eyes and cursed, he had gotten too cocky with those
blasted children again, and this time there was no Demidevimon to organize
his regeneration.
“I will find a way to have my revenge.” he muttered gnashing his fangs together.
“And how do you plan to do that Myotismon? Last time I checked you ate your
material bond like a fool.”
Myotismon turned around, behind him barely visible in the post dusk shadow
was a figure; he was tall and dressed in a nondescript grey trench coat and
charcoal cabbie's hat. There was nothing memorable about him; he seemed almost
incorporeal, as if he would fade away if you looked at him too hard. Myotismon
shook his head indignantly.
“Where did you come from, no one was there a second ago?” questioned the
Vampire angrily.
The figure lit a cigarette and looked directly at Myotismon.
“Semi corporeal, even after being defeated twice, impressive!” commented
the smoker as he blew slightly green rings across the wreckage of the battle
scene “You've got a lot of potential Vamde even I can see that”.
“Who the hell are you?” demanded Myotismon drawing himself up to his full
ethereal 6 feet.
The smoker lifted his hat a smidge, just enough for Myotismon to catch the
glint of his malicious green eyes.
“I am simply an agent Vamde, an agent of a very interested party,” he said
confidently looking about the devastation in the non-plussed manor of someone
inspecting the water pipes.
Myotismon frowned; there was something about this person that didn't feel
right.
“Does this party have a name?” he demanded to the figure.
“Only if you're willing to listen to my offer” replied the figure, tipping
the ash of his cigarette.
“Ah so there's an offer now?” questioned Myotismon feeling like he was getting
somewhere at last.
“Yes Myotismon there is an offer, if you’re willing to listen,” said the
figure taking
“That's the first time you've called me by my real name since we met,” sneered
Myotismon “And spit out your damn offer I haven't got all day,”
The figure smiled, Myotismon noticed the sharpened vampiric fangs biting
into the cigarette.
“Myotismon may be who you were, but Vamde is who you are. Look at yourself!
You can't survive in your current form, your little more than an aggressive
vapour; my master can give you another opportunity to strike out at those
kids, for a price of course.
Myotismon looked at his body, he was not stupid, and his body was ruined
and there wads no hope of him returning for his vengeance unless he wanted
to get laughed at by Gatomon.
“What kind of price?” he asked slowly.
“My master requires energy, in exchange for the opportunity to strike out
at your enemies, my master wishes for you to collect and cultivate the dark
spores of Milleniumon,”said the figure authoritatively.
“The Dark Spores? I thought they were all destroyed by Gennai and the other
meddlers” stated Myotismon scathingly.
“Almost!” Said the figure “A single spore still exists within this world
it inhabits the soul of a hapless human it happened to come into contact
with.”
“What kind of hapless human?” said Myotismon warming to the idea slightly
his ethereal fangs just visible in the asphalt dust?
“Within the soul of a Digidestined? Consider your spore collected!” exclaimed
Myotismon now relishing the idea of a return to power.
“Excellent!” exclaimed the man as he snapped his fingers in a showman's manner
“Then let us begin”
Myotismon stared; the figure was now holding a ball of green fire in his
hand.
“Forces of Darkness empower me, reveal who I am meant to be,” cried the figure
as black wings sprouted from his back.
“I knew it was you...” gasped Myotismon staring at Darkangemon's polished
black armour, “But don't you work for Daemon? I don't work for the Corps,”
Darkangemon smiled, one arm morphed slightly as his long green sabre lanced
out of his wrist.
“I don’t work for Daemon any more, he just thinks I do, now I must separate
your essence from the ethereal form in order for you to survive I suggest
you stand still”.
Myotismon felt the searing hot blade bite into his ethereal form, then came
the hunger…
What? What have you done to me? He gasped gutturally his voice rattling like
a chain whipping in the wind.
“I had to give you form,” said Darkangemon softly “But even I do not have
the power to fully restore you Vamde, I am afraid that is up to you. Find
a body from which you can replenish your strength, I will contact you when
you are ready,”
And with that just as suddenly as he had appears Darkangemon was gone.
*some time later*
“Look Hiroge,” cried Owikawa desperately staring at the sky, “look; our world.
Exactly as we saw it… if only,”
Do you wish to go there?
“Yes more than anything”
Devote your life to evil and I shall take you there.
The rest is all history.