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Mr.RMA

Magearna before it was cool
It has certainly been a while since I've had any writing material to share, and though I've been hesitant to repost any of my old stuff, I figure it's worth sharing what I've been slowly working on for some time.

A precursor to a greater Digimon story still in the works, this is the tale of two denizens of the hellish Dark Area who seek greener pastures, all while a nefarious, aristocratic plotter schemes to find a pawn that will expand his dominion within this malicious land.

I intend for this to be a two-parter, so keep an eye out for the conclusion if this first act manages to strike your fancy!

Part 1: Hell is other Digimon

Surrounded by ranges of volcanoes, perpetually erupting with bright-hot magma that was the only source of light visible in a realm choked in black clouds of ash, there stood a tower. This rotunda of stone and metal scaled to magnificent heights, shooting through the clouds of soot and seemingly going on forever. Though its true height was indeed a finite quantity, it could be safely presumed that the tower’s roof was so lofty that one who stood upon it could look out for miles upon miles.

Not that any misfortunate soul of any sound mind would ever wish to bear witness to this forsaken realm in which they were damned to dwell.

The Dark Area was, for all intents and purposes, the Hell of the Digital World. It was a ruthless place, home of merciless, brutal creatures that truly emphasized the latter half of the term Digital Monster. They lived in a land of death, the inevitable destination for all Digimon… but whereas the data of the good-hearted were sent back to the surface of the digital world for reincarnation, the wicked were doomed to remain here for all eternity… and for all intents and purposes, those that were stuck as broken data in this place indefinitely were oft considered the lucky ones. True unconscious abyss was, to many, quite preferable to constant toil, paranoia, strife and pain, which the Dark Area provided in droves.

Very few Digimon could take any semblance of comfort or pleasure in such a void of misery as this, but there were those that proved the exception to the rule… In a place of such chaos and barbarity, it is the strong that survive and force respect out of all others, and the Digimon that dwelled in this particular tower was one such example. The pinnacle of Greed, the symbol of Avarice, the Schemer of Gold… Barbamon was the great manipulator, a conniving, covetous creature in the guise of a bearded old man in opulent attire, with gold jewelry covering his pale, long-nailed hands, along his arms and embedded all throughout the extravagant cloak of black, red and purple draped over his deceptively decrepit form. It all perfectly complemented a set of 6 scarlet wings and a large staff with a bright red gem, clenched in the skeletal teeth of some serpent-like beast. He was a demonic force that demanded luxury, and he was never to be satisfied with what he had. Even at this moment, as he lurked within his volcanic fortress, with more privilege than most Digimon in any realm could ever have hoped to achieve within several lifetimes, he was plotting to acquire more. The fact of the matter was, he was hardly impressed with his home… after all, there were six more just like it… and not all of them were necessarily housing an occupant… not yet.

“Seven Demon Lords… Six piddling rats taking a piece of the pie…” Barbamon muttered to himself as he paced around a room that was absolutely covered in gold coins and jewelry, garnished with a rainbow of precious gems.

“Brutes, savages, imbeciles, the lot of them… They are undeserving of this power…” he growled as he clenched at his staff, knowing that despite his feelings on the matter, there was little he could do about this. The Demon Lords had a sort of hierarchy, notwithstanding their individualistic tendencies, and while Barbamon was truly a powerful force, said power alone could not hope to overtake some of his contemporaries. He was wise enough to know this much, even if he would never go so far as to admit it openly. Attempting to usurp their power would only lead to him losing his, and he would sooner kneel before Plutomon himself before giving up all that he had acquired.

“There must be another way to take what I deserve… A way beyond anything those fools could hope to counteract… but what could it be?” he pondered as he approached the stairway that ascended up to the utmost level, making his way to the roof, peering across the sinister horizon before him. From opposite sides he could make out the distant, hazy forms of two of the aforementioned towers of similar design. One of them housed a creature he deemed little more than a lethargic hairball… and one entirely unworthy of the terrifying potential it housed within… while the other

“Still empty…” He stared at this unoccupied tower, stroking at his flowing beard with the semblance of a plan beginning to take root in his mind. Beneath the golden mask adorning his face, he smiled a devious, toothy grin.

“…Perhaps it should fall to me to find our next Demon Lord…”



~



“Look, what do you want from me?!” Exhausted and cornered, a bipedal feline in pitch-black fur with purple accents prepared for one last stand against the small hoard of malevolent Ogremon menacingly approaching him from all sides, save for the cliff behind him that led to one of many supposedly endless voids.

“Whattaya think, shrimp?” The miscreant at the center growled as he readied his trademark spiked femur bone to strike his prey. “Ain’t much data to go around, and a wuss like yourself ain’t deserving of it! Now quit with the runnin’ and take your lumps like a good little Digimon.”

With nowhere to go, the outnumbered feline had little choice but to attempt to fight back, albeit it was hardly the easiest task. Flailing his relatively large claws, none of his desperate attacks hit their mark, and with a single swing of the Ogremon’s weapon, he crumpled to the ground, mere centimeters away from the cliffside. For a moment as his aggressors advanced on him, weapons at the ready to beat him into nothing but formless code, he seriously considered rolling into that abyssal nothingness, just to spite these data-hungry predators.

Yet, before he could even begin edging further away from one demise to meet another, a bright yellow flash of energy flew in the lead Ogremon’s direction, sending the nefarious creature flying out of sight before the remaining duo even had any chance to react. By the time they realized what had happened and turned around to face this new foe, two more flashes of energy collided into them and sent them likewise out of sight.

Staring blankly at the open space where his impending doom had once stood, the black and purple feline weakly turned his head to spot a humanoid figure clad in a purple cape and a cream-colored bodysuit, adorned with red colored markings designed like sinister faces, with the “mouths” closed via zippers. His brown shoes were decorated with large crescent moons, and only a sliver of his pale blue face could be seen, covered by the aforementioned cape and a large pointed hat with a skull at the forefront. The stern gaze coming from this figure’s green eyes made it rather difficult to decipher his intentions, though as he approached the feline, he made no attempt to conjure up another attack, merely holding out a gloved hand to help the injured Digimon back up onto his feet.

“Bit of a close shave there… Sorry for makin’ you wait so long, my good BlackGatomon. How you holdin’ up? Can you stand?”

BlackGatomon seemed hesitant to take this stranger’s hand, clearly not one to trust others all too easily.

“…Mind if I ask why you’d care? Surely you Wizardmon have better things to do than play hero down in a rathole like this one…” he replied, eyes narrowed as he looked upon the Wizardmon with suspicion.

“Heh, that’s where you’d be wrong, pal,” Wizardmon answered with a shake of his head. “Not that I intended to ‘play hero’ as you so put it when I woke up this morning, but, y’know, I see plenty of those punks that were bothering you just now, and frankly I ain’t so inclined to simply stand by and watch bullies like that have their way. Come on now, I promise I ain’t here to hurt ya. You have my word.” Perhaps his word wasn’t much good as a complete stranger to this fellow Digimon, but BlackGatomon, being one who could usually spot a deceitful trickster from a mile away, couldn’t sense any malice coming from this particular individual. Perhaps he truly did such a good deed out of the kindness of his heart… or he simply sought some kind of payment… but whatever the case, he didn’t seem inclined to blast the feline into oblivion while his guard was down, and if even if he was, there was hardly anything BlackGatomon could’ve done in his condition to stop him.

Letting out a resigned sigh, BlackGatomon finally reached out and accepted Wizardmon’s hand, which immediately started to glow a light green on contact, and within seconds, his injuries seemed to vanish entirely as his entire body felt rejuvenated by the healing aura.

“There you go. Don’t sting as much anymore, yeah?” Wizardmon asked, his eyes squinting, inferring a smile hidden beneath his cowl.

“…Y-yeah. I… Uh… Thanks.” BlackGatomon hadn’t expected this, and it was all-too-clear by his loss for words. “Still I… I don’t understand. What’s your aim here?”

“Aim? What’re you talkin’ about?” Wizardmon inquired, sounding genuinely puzzled, which only seemed to further confuse his new acquaintance all the more in turn.

“You know where you are, don’t you? Everyone’s got some kinda ulterior motive down here if they go out of their way for another Digimon, especially one they don’t know. Charity doesn’t exist here; anyone could tell you that.”

Wizardmon gave a light shrug of his shoulders. “What’s popular ain’t always right. Cocytus might like to reward the brutish, aggressive types, sure. It’s easier to get by if you’re some unconscionable, murderous punk that only thinks to kill and consume, but with the right sorta willpower, there’s always a chance that one can overcome that lifestyle, and let me tell ya, I’ve certainly tried to. You seem to have a similar sorta mindset, if I’m not mistaken.”

This statement seemed to make the poor feline’s fur bristle as he looked around worriedly to see if anyone else was listening in before scurrying closer to this peculiar fellow Digimon.

“Hey, watch it… Anyone else hears you talking like that and they’ll have us both torn to shreds!”

“Yeah, well, I’d like to see ‘em try… and let’s be honest with ourselves here, pal; They don’t need no excuse to do that already.”

Just what kind of Digimon was this guy? BlackGatomon still seemed utterly perplexed, but likewise intrigued.

“…So you’re serious… Wow… I didn’t think I’d meet anyone down here who’d agree with me about this place, much less admit it openly.” Wizardmon only seemed to let out a chuckle as he motioned for BlackGatomon to follow him, intent on continuing the conversation a fair distance away from such a dire falling hazard.

Few would label Cocytus hospitable by any stretch of the imagination, but compared to the Dark Areas that it connected to, it was considered relatively pleasant as far as environments went. For one, it wasn’t a completely abyssal realm of unbridled chaos and a lack of anything resembling stability. There was genuine ground to tread upon, forests to venture within, caverns and oceans alike to plunge into, if one was so inclined. The caveat to all this, as one might expect, was that such a comparatively preferred region attracted a lot of Digimon, and in such a place as this, few were looking to establish a welcome community. It was something BlackGatomon knew all too well, but such a risk remained the better choice than the darkness he’d spawned from, of that he had no doubts, even now, after this most recent attempt on his life.

“So uh… for lack of a better way to put this, what brings someone like you to this hellhole anyway?” the curious feline eventually piped up to ask.

“Heh, what, I don’t come across as a native? Sorry to disappoint, but I was born here. Unlike some, I didn’t exactly have the privilege of choice in where I was first spawned. Cocytus has been my home from my earliest days as a Keemon.”

“Then how come you’re not…”

“A complete bastard?” he seemed rather aptly prepared to finish that question, and BlackGatomon could do little but gesture that, yes, that was essentially the question of the moment.

“I got lucky, that’s what it really came down to. A Phantomon of all things found me freshly hatched and took me in. Don’t know what that ol’ specter saw in me, he was always adamant on keepin’ his foresights to himself, but he insisted that I learn a more disciplined method of survival as opposed to my ‘peers’. He made me study all sorts of special code all through my early stages, not that it made any kinda sense to me back then, but boy did he make sure I wouldn’t forget any of it… You ever have a Phantomon glare at you before? I’m assumin’ you haven’t, an’ trust me, that’s an experience best left ignorant to. Faced without much choice, I just kept memorizin’ what he threw at me until one day it all just seemed to ‘click’, and that was the day I digivolved into the current article you’re lookin’ at now.”

“What happened to the Phantomon?” BlackGatomon was, perhaps expectedly, inclined to ask.

“Don’t know. One day came around and he just kinda vanished. Guess he thought his work was done or somethin’. Haven’t seen him since.” Whether Wizardmon was upset by this or merely confounded, it was impossible for BlackGatomon to tell. His eyes seemed to merely stare forward, blank and expressionless as if in deep thought.

A few more quiet moments passed as they proceeded onward, taking refuge within a forested area, a preferable spot compared to being out in the open. They were fortunate to have not run into any more predatory Digimon, and neither of them wished to continue pushing their luck.

“So then, you’ve got my story, now how ‘bout yourself?” Wizardmon asked, a question BlackGatomon knew was coming, yet he still seemed unprepared to give an answer.

“…I mean, not so sure how much I should say…” he murmured, to which his new companion gave him a light pat on the shoulder in encouragement.

“Only about as much as you feel comfortable sayin’, pal. If that’s your whole life story, go right ahead, and if it’s nothin’, then you can absolutely keep your mouth shut an’ I won’t be offended none. Just figure it might help to know where you’re comin’ from.”

BlackGatomon took a moment to think it over, hesitant to speak his mind, but by that same token, desperate to have someone in which to confide such thoughts. This Wizardmon was the first who seemed to have any semblance of a care.

“Well, it’s something like this… All my life I’ve been stuck in the Dark Area, and I wasn’t so lucky to find any kind of supportive mentor, much less any friends. I learned and survived by nabbing any data I could get, first just scavenging any lingering pieces of code, then when I was strong enough, doing the dirty work myself. I mean, you know exactly how it is; not much of a choice you can make here. I grew up with one big constant reminder that it was kill or be killed. Had to do a lot of killing by the time I was a Salamon…

Once you’re a rookie level, the others, they finally start seeing you as competition. I mean, that in itself was rough, but I could handle it. If it’s a matter of survival, you do what you gotta do, right? But…”

He looked down into his paws, staring into them the way one might if they were coated in blood.

“But the thing is… somewhere along the line, I’d grown to enjoy it. I went out on the hunt, I targeted weaker Digimon to tear into, and I absolutely relished absorbing all their data. It was intoxicating… I mean, I was a vaccine in a sea of mostly viruses… I had that little edge over so many others, and so often it made all the difference. I knew it, and I made sure if they didn’t know it themselves, they’d only find out when it was too late… because it was more fun that way…” BlackGatomon pressed a paw up against his forehead, quite visibly distressed by his own recollections.

“Hey, you don’t need to continue if it’s too much…” Wizardmon calmly tried to assure him, but BlackGatomon shook his head.

“Not much more to say anyway, might as well finish it up…” he murmured before taking a deep breath and pressing on with his story.

“…I remember how much I was looking forward to my next Digivolution… The idea of slaying Champions and feasting on them the way I’d done to all the weaker creatures… it made me absolutely giddy… but… something happened, and I still don’t know how to fully explain it.

I had a Gazimon pinned, and I was just about ready to give it a killing blow… but as I blasted it away, and its physical form was annihilated, I caught it staring at me… and I saw its fear. That final gaze burned itself into my mind in a way where… even now if I close my eyes long enough it’s all I can see. Just two eyes, open wide, bloodshot, staring, pleading, begging for something to rescue them when they were already dissolving into nothing. I should have relished in such a sight, considering just the kind of monster I’d become, and yet as the Gazimon’s data became my own, that gaze of it… the sheer, utter terror it felt as it faced its demise… it only seemed to haunt me more and more, and as I thought about it, I couldn’t help but think about all the others.

Past kills floated by in my thoughts, sharing that same damned expression. Each one wanted to live, each one had hoped for a miracle that would never arrive, and each one of those Digimon felt nothing but agonizing fear in their final moments. For the first time in my life, I was actually self-conscious of what I’d been doing. For the first time I had to think about how many lives I snuffed out and took for myself. All I could feel was sick…”

The feline let out an exasperated sort of chuckle as his lips twisted into a broken smirk. “As if fate couldn’t have been any more ironic about it, that was the moment I became a BlackGatomon. Funny how it works that way sometimes, isn’t it?” He slumped back against the nearest tree and slid down to the ground, his eyes glossy as he stared forward into nothing.

“All the love of fighting and killing was gone. I was supposed to be the strongest I’d ever been, but from that day on it was as if I’d never fought once before in my life. Ever since, I’ve just been running… Running away from everyone and everything, just hoping, maybe, some anomaly will come about and I’ll be able to break out of this forsaken place and into the light of the Digital World. It’s either that or the more likely outcome where I die here, as an unforgivable coward who only got some semblance of a conscience after taking so many lives with gleeful abandon… no better than the glutton who gorges himself and only regrets it after the meal’s over.”

Traumatizing as it was to relive his past, there was a certain relief that came with openly admitting such a grim period of time to someone else, even it was nearly equally terrifying to hear his inevitable reaction to it all.

“So in that way I guess I’m no better than those Ogremon that were knocking me around earlier… I was just another murderous little bastard. By all rights I don’t deserve any kind of freedom or joy or anything like that.”

Wizardmon didn’t speak up at first, and a grating silence surrounded the two for a time, only to finally be broken by the humanoid Digimon letting out an inquisitive “Hmm…”

“What, is that all you’ve got to say to that?” BlackGatomon asked. “Can’t blame you if you’re at a loss for words I suppose…”

“Well, no, that’s… not entirely the truth of it,” Wizardmon retorted. “It’s just that I’ve never met someone who’d gone through a crisis of conscience like that before, not knowingly at least. You really regretted all a’ your past behavior after the incident with the Gazimon?”

“Y-yeah… It’s like I said, the look in their eyes just sorta got to me all of a sudden…”

“Well ah, maybe it ain’t so sudden… Maybe this conscience was there from the get-go, but in your desire to just survive at any cost, you felt a need to suppress it… and it was only a matter of time before it would inevitably come back to you at just the right provocation.”

“I don’t understand… What do you mean?” BlackGatomon may have been fibbing slightly in this ignorance. In a way he did know what Wizardmon was implying, but he couldn’t fathom that he was coming to such a conclusion.

“What I mean is there was good in you all along, pally, and you eventually had the nerve to see it for yourself. Look, I ain’t sayin’ what you did before wasn’t bad, that’d be pretty damn far from the truth, I think we can both agree there… but by that same token, the fact you felt guilt at all, that’s what separates you from the usual unforgivin’ bullies around here.” At that, Wizardmon held out a hand once more to help his companion back up to his feet.

“Ain’t much you can do about the past. What’s done is done, right? But there’s a future still left to figure out, and you don’t have to let what you’ve done yesterday define what you might be tomorrow.”

So he really meant it then… BlackGatomon had admitted his abhorrent past in as much detail as he could bear to give, and this Wizardmon was still willing to help him. Though a bit misty-eyed, he gratefully took the taller Digimon’s hand and stood up, a fragile smile forming on his face.

“Heh… Guess if you’re really crazy enough to stick around after all that, I’d be an idiot to blow you off… but what’re we gonna do?” BlackGatomon inquired. It was certainly a question worth imposing, considering neither Cocytus nor the Dark Area at large were the most welcoming toward good deeds.

“Well, if you really want a fresh start, we’re gonna have to find a way to get you out of this hell, somewhere out in the Digital World where you can really get the chance to live an upright and cordial life,” Wizardmon said, with sagely sort of nod.

“I mean, yeah, that makes sense, but, how? I’ve tried looking for a way out, nothing ever seemed the least bit promising,” BlackGatomon said in reply, though Wizardmon didn’t seem too daunted.

“There’s bound to be a way, I’m sure of it. ‘Till then, you just stick with me. I swear on my life I’ll get you out of here, one way or another.” He was certain now, this must be what Phantomon had foreseen, the destiny he was meant to take on. Small as it was, helping a single Digimon on his path of penance, it was a noble endeavor all the same.

As the duo pressed forward, destination unknown but with the hope of their new friendship brightly kindled, they had no way of knowing, in one of the towers looming in the distant volcanic range, a scheme was brewing that would, one day, drastically change not only their fates, but the fate of the Dark Area and the Digital World as a whole. The tower of Gluttony would not remain vacant forever.
 

Psycho Monkey

Member of the Literary Elite Four
Excellent work RMA! Since I'm in the RP, I have a feeling I know where this is going but I look forward to your continuation regardless in case I'm wrong or you have other twists and surprises up your sleeve that I didn't see coming. I'm feeling a bit inspired now to write my own prologue but we'll see if I can shake off the several years of rust or even find the time to make the attempt.
 
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