AUTHOR'S NOTE: don't own digimon, blah blah blah. I have three weeks off from school and wanna finish this before going back. College is so hard. :( please review plenty and I'll write as fast as I can. I REALLY REALLY like Myo and Kari together so I am considering reposting my story King of Darkness, Queen of Light as a sequel to Reborn (for those of you who know what I'm talking about). So yeah i donno. Enjoy.

EVIL'S LIGHT

Ch.1 Awakening

When the clanking sound forced him to open his eyes, he wasn't certain where he was, or even the time. Every nerve on his body seemed piercingly sensitive to the cold winter embracing him. Assuming it was winter, and he was outside, of course, since it was dark, and he couldn't see very well.

Scratch that.

He COULD see. In fact, he could see everything. Tilting his head slowly from one side to the other, he saw the dank alley, completely dark from the starless night save for the occasional headlight of the passing cars. The ground was littered with garbage and sewage water welled up in the corners, providing a comfortable home for baby mosquitoes. Pressed against his right side was a dumpster that stank like old death. He could see the traces of slime and dirt on its side.

The clanking sound came again but he was yet to identify its source.

Running one hand down his body he discovered the reason he was so cold. There was not a single garment covering his bare skin. He was naked, sitting in the filth of the alley, and when he searched his mind for a reason, he only gave him a blank. He also didn't know that the temperature was well below freezing and an ordinary person should have been long dead or numb.

Clank, clank...

Carefully, he stood, leaning his back against what felt like a brick wall, and wasn't sure of what to do next. His eyesight seemed to be improving, or perhaps merely recovering, as he raised his hands to their level.

A car passed, sending a brief wave of pale light over his skin and although he wasn't sure what he was supposed to look like, its coloring seemed strange to him. It appeared to be a soft shade of blue and his fingers were long and slender. He ran one of his hands over his head and felt his hair part from its touch, matted and dirty but surprisingly smooth. As he regained some feeling to his muscles, they felt strong, and capable.

Assuming this was his body. And assuming this wasn't a dream.

Or a nightmare.

His sense of smell was becoming uncomfortably sensitive as the scents of the alley drifted by him. He smelled the rotting apple and meat in the dumpster, the bubbly sewage, the exhaust of the cars, and blood.

His own blood. A hand went to his neck and felt a long scar extending from the base of his neck half way down his chest. Through the process of his (arrival?) it had been torn open and was in the process of re-knitting itself. It didn't hurt, but the traces of tried red substance along his torso told him that whatever had made the scar also made him bleed like a stuck pig.

He could also smell something else-steel, and a human.

The clanking was still there and suddenly seemed very loud. It was coming around the corner at the end of the alley. He was afraid, but he instinctively held his breath and stayed out of sight. The newcomer smelled like old burlap and sweat, despite the cold, and, not knowing how, he thought he could almost detect the faint fragrance of insanity.

The light of another car brought to his sight a large shadow, a man judging from the stature. When the light passed he shadow was gone but it was enough for him to deduce the other's intentions. It was a hobo, a giant man coated in rags and desperation. He had been drinking, so much that the alcohol on his breath was intoxicating. His mind was buzzing with a billion thoughts, all of them red and angry. He had wondered the streets for too long, accompanied only by the rusty knife in his left hand and the liquor bottle in his right.

As he watched, the hobo banged the bottle against the wall as he dragged himself along the alley walls. Part of him wanted to run, but something else in his head told him he needn't be afraid, because the other was

Mortal?

The hobo stopped a few yards away from him before he could decide what to do. A line of yellow teeth appeared as a grin split the man's face into two, almost to the ears. He took another swig from the bottle and wiped his mouth with the hand still gripping the knife.

"Wha' we 'ave here?" he rumbled. Something caught in his throat. He coughed and spat. The sticky yellow substance clung to the nearest wall. "You in ma space?"

Unsure of what to say, he kept silent.

"Wel' then," another cough, this one convincing him that the man was seriously ill. "How's 'bout a little fun, eh?" He took another step forward as a red tongue extended and licked his lips. There was blood on his teeth, someone else's.

He didn't move. He wasn't afraid and he wasn't sure why. Plus he wasn't sure what the other meant.

The grin widened on the hobo as he made an obviously obscene gesture with his knife hand and started faster toward him, smacking his lips as if expecting a kiss. A meaty hand reached out, still holding the liquor bottle.

Something took over, perhaps instinct, as one of hands shot out and seized the other and before the hobo could cry out, the blue hand squeezed and the bottleneck shattered. A large shard of glass went into the palm and emerged from the other side, between the space of two blue fingers. They stood there for a moment with out a sound, then the blue hand let go and the other began to scream.

"You, you... ahhhh!" the hobo gripped his hang, the piece of glass still protruding from the back of it, and launched a creative string of curses at him as the knife fell to the ground at his feet.

He looked at his own hand. More blood, from the other this time. Seemed like they were simply pouring his way on this odd day. A twinge of excitement stirred and he brought the bloody palm to his lips and licked it as the hobo stared in shock.

"Freak!" he shrieked. "You freak!" Trembling, the mad man bent and grabbed for his knife. With a single advance, he stepped onto the blade with his bare foot. The hobo gazed up at him, eyes wide with fear.

The words seemed to come out on their own. "Don't look at me like that," he told the hobo in a chilling voice, "Unless you want me to punish you."

For a moment it seemed the other might run, but then an angry fire lit and with a beastly growl, the man lung at him. Before he could even react, his body acted on its own. His heel flicked up and the knife landed in his hand. He sidestepped to prevent the dead body from falling on him, the blade deep in its chest.

~*~

A shiver came over her. Without looking, Kari reached over for her sweater, although it was quite warm inside her room. She wasn't quite sure why she was so cold all of a sudden, perhaps it was the flu going around.

"Come in," she said as a knock came on her door, not looking up from her books. Tai strolled inside and leaned on the wall beside her desk. He gave her a curious look.

"Since when are YOU cold?" he asked.

"I get cold."

"Please," he said with a smirk. "You haven't been cold in the past year. Last week you played in the snow wearing shorts."

Kari shrugged. "I just wasn't cold."

"Guess you're finally normal. I thought you were turning weird on me or something." Tai straightened up. "I just wanted to tell you Don's coming over later."

She started and looked at him for the first time. "Don?"

Her brother chuckled. "Man, you really do got it bad for him, don't you?" he joked. "He told me my little sister's got a thing for him, but then again, what girl doesn't?"

An uneasy laugh escaped Kari. "I'd guess human."

"Whatever, sis, don't be TOO disappointed when he shows up without kisses and roses. Later."

She watched his close the door behind him and sighed. She WAS disappointed, not because of Don's lack of affection in her, but because OF his interest. Tai didn't know, her parents didn't know, and even Gatomon, who spent days with her and nights in the digital world and talked about everything with her, didn't know. Nobody did.

Don was one of, if not the most popular boy in Tai's school. Even Matt came in second to him. He was everything-rich, handsome, talented, and charming in everyway. He never went out with a girl twice and few complained because they thought just a chance to be with him was a privilege. There was no girl he wanted and couldn't have.

Except for her.

Recently, Don came over more and more, gabbing with Tai about soccer and the occasional math problem. Her parents liked Don, said he was nice. But only she knew the real reason he came over.

The first time he was here, she had been lying on her bed, her head dangling off the side and phone in one hand, talking to Yolie. She was alone. Gatomon wasn't there, and perhaps that was why it took her so long to notice him.

He was standing outside her door, which was opened just a crack, looking at her. There was something in his chestnut-colored eyes she didn't like. Sitting up, she said good-bye to Yolie and turned to the door again, but he was already gone. She went through the rest of the evening thinking she had dreamed the whole thing.

But then he came by more and more, and every time she passed him, he always managed to rub up against her ever so slightly, so matter how much space was between them. Whenever she thought about telling anyone this, she would hear them praise what a gentleman he was, and watch him toss his perfect honey brown hair and smile modestly.

Maybe I'm just paranoid, she told herself. It's hard to be paranoid nowadays.

A year had passed. Hard to believe it had been a year since they stood on even grounds with MaloMyotismon in the place between dreams and reality. She had expected things to change, for better or for worse, but somehow it didn't, at least not much. As time passed, the people began to forget, the way they forgot about the very first "terrorist" attack in Odeiba, and the battle led by the very first digidestined against the Dark Masters. As a little more time passed, she turned fourteen and started eighth grade and everything seemed normal.

It was getting hot again and she took off her sweater and threw it onto the floor. Yes, little has changed, but that did not mean nothing had. This was another secret she kept to herself, mainly because she needed to find out its purpose first.

The heat on her body was making her squirm uncomfortably. She had already convinced herself that she was too young to have hot flashes so it had to be something else. She stood up, stretched, and opened the shades handing over the window. The night was lit with festivities of Christmas. Red and green lights twinkled in the streets like candles on a birthday cake.

Looking behind her to make sure there was no one there, she opened the window and let the cold breeze inside. It felt good on her burning skin. Suddenly feeling bold, she gripped the bottom of her shirt, checked on last time to make sure she was alone, and pulled it off. She closed her eyes and for the first time in a while did not wonder why she was so hot, and simply enjoyed the cold.

Finally, after not knowing how long, she felt her body temperature returning to normal. Looking out the window one last time, she raised her hands to close the shades.

And stopped.

In the window, she could see her own reflection, naked from the waist up save for her bra. The light in the room shun behind her, causing every item in the room to be reflected onto the glass. Including the slight gap of the door.

A pair of brown eyes were peering in. The figure was leaning against the doorframe, not even trying to conceal himself from her. He was watching her. Lips moved without sounds, forming the words, "hi, Kari."

The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she forced herself to draw the blinds close and put her shirt back on. It was a struggle with her hands shaking as they did. She could feel the eyes probing her body, enjoying her movement and unease. She felt like a trapped bird. But when she turned around, he was already gone, and the hall was filled with the laughter of Tai, as if he had been talking to his friend all along.

It's not a dream, she thought to herself.

~*~

He stripped the hobo of his cloth and dressed himself. It was a loose fit since he was slimmer than its last owner, but at least the length was all right. The knife was still jutting out of the man's chest. He pulled it out and pocketed it. In a daze, he dumped the body into the dumpster and wondered how he had come to do what he did.

Instinct, perhaps.

But whose instinct?

He was feeling stronger now, and more alert, but he had no idea what to do with himself. Pulling the ragged coat over himself, he ventured out of the alley and into the streets.

There was little traffic going about this particular street, but about a mile down it led to lights and noise. He smelled people, a lot of them, and sensed their business and excitement. Hesitantly, he went down the street toward the bright lights and emerged in a brightly lit square. A million pairs of feet passed by, few took notice of him although several did eye him suspiciously and move on. No faces looked familiar, not that it mattered.

He strolled along the line of bustling stores toward and intersection. There, he found two street signs. One did not ring a bell. But the other made him twinge.

Odeiba.

Thin air.

Suddenly, he looked around himself and realized he was miles above the city. All the lights were shining beneath him, out of reach. He was floating in space with nothing but darkness supporting him. Before him, not far away, was a building with shining windows. He started to wonder if this was real when something caught his attention.

Despite the cold, the window directly in front of him was open. Standing there before the glass was a thin figure. Somehow, he willed himself to move a little closer and saw that it was a young girl. She was looking down, her hands supporting her self on the windowsill, eyes closed and her lips curled in a soft smile as if lost in a dream. She was scantily clad but the cold did not seem to bother her. Short brown locks fell in front of her delicate face and onto her smooth shoulders.

He moved closer. Actually, it felt more like the building was moving toward him, until he was separated from the girl only by a pane of glass. He could see her chest more up and down rhythmically, and the silkiness of her skin. She didn't move for a long time, just standing there letting the cold wash over her. He could feel heat radiating from her every pore across the glass.

And then he saw the one behind her. It took no particular form, but it was danger, and it war near. The young goddess took no notice, however. She still stood and breathed, in and out, in and out.

Without thinking, he reached for her and watched his hand shatter the glass as if it was made of sugar and land on the girl's shoulder. The moment they touched, she looked up and he found himself falling, getting lost in her brown eyes for a long second. Then the light poured out, so much light poured out of her eyes that he drew back and felt the world collapse...

And it did.

Until a man dressed in an odd uniform tapped him on the shoulder, he did not realize he had been staring at the sign for a long time. "Move along, pal," the man said curtly. "You're making people nervous." He took a closer look. "Geez, pal, what kind of brawl were you in?"

He merely shrugged.

"Why don't you come with me?" the uniformed man reach for his arm. "I think some people down at the station will be interested."

The hobo's blood must still be on his cloth. His lips drew back as he gave the cop a thin smile. The other suddenly drew back in fear. Taking this opportunity, he slipped away quickly as the man stood there stunned.

He made sure to be well out of sight when he made sure what had frightened the man so bad. With one finger, he felt along the inside of his mouth and discovered two pointed canines sticking out farther than his other teeth.

No, not canines. Fangs.

So I am a freak, he thought. Good for me.

The streets still bustled but he took no notice. Even the billions of foreign objects and smells no longer held his attention. His fangs poked at his lip every once in a while but after some time he ceased to notice. The scar on his neck itched by scratching them would only lead to more bleeding so he tried his best to ignore it.

He only thought about the child goddess with brown hair.

And the light pouring from deep within her soul.

~*~

Unknown and forgotten save for by a few, the Dark Ocean droned on.

Its dullness was only matched by the darkness of it inhabitants. But then again, inhabitants refer to those who live. The creatures that dwelled here hover between life and death, and liked it that way. Even though, it gets boring and soon they crave more.

Since his banishment from both the real and digital world, Daemon had labored endlessly for a way to return. His power was far from inadequate, and there exist uncountable channels out of the dark dimension. It had seemed impossible not to escape, until his first attempt, several months ago.

He had it all planned out. His corps was prepped and ready. The portal had opened up to its full capacity and he was about to make his reentrance into the real world.

Then the lights came. It came flooding through the tunnel, destroying every particle of the portal and seared him and his henchmen so severely that it was weeks before they were able to attempt again, only to be greeted by the same fate.

There was a time when he had thought it merely a myth, but now the truth was hard to avoid. She had been there when that boy emperor sealed him away and the moment it was done, her power, no longer limited by the presence of their darkness, began to grow. As the days wore on, her energy had formed a tight shield around the darkness, keeping it contained, secluded.

The dreaded little angle of light.

A woman hovered behind him as he meditated. If she were human, she would be beautiful, but she was not and would never want to be. Her beauty was merely a shell holding the evil she loved so much inside.

"Has it been done?"

She bowed. "Yes, my lord."

"Good," Daemon said, his voice dark and ominous. "Myotismon may be an annoyance at times, but now he is proving to be quite useful."

"You are certain he will eliminate the source of light, my lord?"

Daemon smirked under his hood. "You forget, Ladydevimon, that she is not yet fully developed and has not learned to wield her powers just yet. Myotismon will do his job and do it well. His own creation will make sure of it."

"The spores."

"What else?"

Their cruel laughter could have filled the entire world, but there are no echoes in the kingdom ruled by the dark ocean.

TO BE CONTINUED...