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Digimon Ch 83
🕑 Added 2025-10-14 15:03:48 +0000 UTCThe air in the secret base hung heavy, saturated with a darkness that seemed to defy physics. Light, no matter how strong, was swallowed whole, leaving only the faintest of outlines to define the space. It was a place of secrets, of whispered conspiracies and unseen eyes, a sanctuary for those who thrived in the shadows.
Myotismon stood at the heart of it all, a figure of aristocratic menace sculpted from the very essence of night. His pale blue skin seemed to absorb the already scant light, and his golden-blonde hair appeared dull. Reports from HYDRA spies flickered on a nearby screen, grainy images of the battle in Harlem painting a picture of chaos and destruction. The report was of the failed mission to eliminate the Chosen Child. The spies had gotten there too late, and the Chosen Child was already gone. Fury seethed, but they did manage to get some images of SkullGreymon.
He slammed a fist against a nearby table, the force of the impact rattling the monitors and sending sparks flying. "That insufferable child!"
Myotismon felt the tendrils of his anger coiling tighter around him, a suffocating serpent threatening to consume him. He had been so meticulous, so careful in his planning. Every piece had been placed with precision, every contingency accounted for. And yet, the "Chosen Child" still survived, a persistent thorn in his side, a fly in the ointment of his grand design.
He remembered Devimon. His plan had failed because he underestimated the power of friendship. His defeat had been a setback, a humiliating blow to his pride. He had spent weeks licking his wounds, carefully rebuilding his network and preparing for his next move. He had spent all this time gathering resources, manipulating pawns, and patiently waiting for the perfect opportunity. He would not underestimate that child again. The child's power was growing. He would not give the Chosen Child time to grow any stronger.
Myotismon could not fail.
A ripple in the air, a distortion of the shadows, announced an arrival. Myotismon's crimson eyes narrowed, his senses on high alert. He had not authorized any visitors. He did not like surprises.
From the depths of the darkness, a figure materialized, flamboyant and disruptive, a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere. Jokermon was a jester sculpted from madness, a riot of color in a monochrome world. A long, colorful coat with oversized shoulder pads billowed around him, the golden bells at the coattails jingling with every movement. His face was a canvas of red and black markings, a grotesque parody of a smile etched beneath a fool’s hat that sat jauntily on his head.
Myotismon's lip curled in a sneer. "Jokermon," he hissed, his voice dripping with disdain. "What are you doing here?"
[Jokermon]
[Level: Ultimate]
[Type: Wizard]
[Attribute: Virus]
[Special Move: Lunatic Slash, Gaia Magicar]
[An elusive Wizard Digimon steeped in mystery. Jokermon appears suddenly on the battlefield, finishing off key Digimon opponents with a single strike from their blind spot to change the tide of battle. Having it as an ally is said to bring one closer to victory, and has earned it the nickname “Passing Trump Card.” Although Jokermon is still shrouded in mystery, investigations have raised the possibility that it might be the same type of being as Piedmon. It uses its special move Lunatic Slash to hunt an enemy down with a sickle that has collected the hope swirling around the battlefield, and Gaia Magicar activates a magic circle beneath the enemy to eradicate them without a trace.]
The presence of the jester-like Digimon was unwelcome. Jokermon was chaos personified, a force of disruption that reveled in disorder. He had no use for distractions, for unnecessary complications. His focus was absolute, his gaze fixed solely on the annihilation of the Chosen Child. He didn't need any help.
Jokermon tilted his head, his painted smile widening. "Don't get so agitated, Myotismon," he chirped, his voice laced with playful malice. "I'm here to help."
Myotismon's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing. He was not a fool. He saw through Jokermon's facade of levity, recognizing the darkness that lurked beneath the surface. The jester's arrival could only mean trouble, a wrench thrown into the delicate gears of his carefully crafted scheme.
"Help?" Myotismon scoffed, his voice laced with skepticism. "How, exactly, do you intend to 'help'? You see our situation, or are you blind? We're still weakened, and that Chosen Child grows in power every day."
Jokermon chuckled, the sound grating on Myotismon's nerves like nails on a chalkboard. He reached into his coat, his movements theatrical and deliberate, and produced a small, black gem.
"I've already got that covered."
The gem pulsed with dark energy, a tangible force that radiated outwards, chilling the air and making the shadows writhe. It was a thing of pure corruption, a concentrated source of malevolence that seemed to hum with dark purpose.
Myotismon's eyes widened, recognition dawning. "The Shadowstone," he breathed, his voice a hushed whisper. "It's… completed?"
Jokermon twirled the gem between his fingers, his painted smile widening. "Indeed. A little project of mine, perfected. I've been saving it."
This stone allowed a Digimon to be summoned from the Digital World. Forming a Shadow Bond between Digimon and humans, corrupting the human and amplifying the Digimon. Previousl, only special individuals can Shadow Bonds take place, but with the Shadowstone, the requirements are significantly lowered. With more like this, they could tip the balance of the war brewing in both worlds.
Myotismon knew he had to act.
Myotismon considered the gem, a flicker of something akin to hope igniting within him. But caution still reigned supreme. He had learned his lesson, paying the price for underestimating his enemies. This Chosen Child was different. There was something unpredictable, something dangerous about him.
"Even with the Shadowstone, we are still at a disadvantage," Myotismon stated, his voice carefully measured. "The Royal Knights continue to keep our allies at bay in the Digital World. And we both are weakened. We need time to heal, to rebuild our strength."
He paused, his gaze fixed on Jokermon's painted face. "We need to be strategic."
Jokermon shrugged, his bells jingling merrily. "Details, details. Leave that to me. What do you need?"
"Recruitment, for starters," Myotismon said. "The stone can recruit more Digimon and humans to our side."
Jokermon clapped his hands together, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "Oh, this will be fun! I have just the people for the Shadowstone."
"You can get this done?" Myotismon asked, his eyes narrowing.
Jokermon threw his head back and laughed. "I'll have people lining up!"
Myotismon was reluctant to trust Jokermon. The jester's chaotic nature made him unpredictable, a loose cannon that could easily veer off course and create more problems than he solved. But he had to trust someone.
"Very well," Myotismon conceded, his voice tight with barely restrained impatience. "Find useful individuals. Humans consumed by ambition, driven by resentment, willing to embrace the darkness to achieve their goals. Offer them the Shadow Bond. Promise them power, and they will be yours."
He paused, his gaze hardening. "But do not fail me, Jokermon. The fate of everything depends on it. The task is simple. The Shadowstone. Distribute it to those who want more power."
Jokermon bowed dramatically, his bells jingling with mocking reverence. "Your wish is my command, Myotismon," he said, his voice dripping with false sincerity. "I promise you, this will be… interesting."
Myotismon watched as Jokermon's painted smile widened, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. He knew he was making a dangerous bargain, entrusting a crucial task to a being he couldn't fully control. But he had no choice. The situation was dire, and the Shadowstone offered a glimmer of hope, a chance to turn the tide against the Chosen Child and secure his dominion over this world.
"See that it is," Myotismon said.
Jokermon chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down Myotismon's spine. He took one last bow, his bells jingling merrily, and then melted back into the shadows, disappearing as quickly and silently as he had arrived.
Myotismon stood alone in the darkness, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty and a growing sense of unease. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had just unleashed something terrible, something that would spiral far beyond his control. But it was too late to turn back. He had made his choice, and now he had to face the consequences, whatever they may be.
I can't fully trust him, Myotismon thought to himself. He knew how chaotic Jokermon could be. But he also knew that he didn't have a choice. With both he and Jokermon weakened, they didn't have the power to get more people on their side. But this task was simple enough that there shouldn't be any problems. At least, that's what he hoped.
As Jokermon traversed the shadowy pathways, a sinister smile stretched across his painted face. The game had begun, and he was the wildcard, the unpredictable element that would disrupt the board and send everything spiraling into glorious, beautiful chaos. He pictured a world consumed by darkness, its inhabitants twisted and corrupted, their hopes and dreams shattered into a million pieces. He could see it all, the dominoes falling, the carefully constructed order collapsing into anarchy. And he, Jokermon, would be there to watch it all, to laugh as the world burned.
Oh, this is going to be so fun, he thought. The Chosen Child and the world he sought to protect had no idea what was coming. With the Shadowstone in play, nothing would ever be the same.
He would find his hosts.
The show was about to begin.
