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Triad	By : Alexxx-Returns Category: Digimon > General Views: 3736 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I DO NOT own the Digimon franchise, or any of the characters in it. I make no profit off this story AT ALL.

Chapter List
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Triad, Chapter 3 - The Dark master

It was a warm, humid night in the Digital World, and a storm was brewing in the distance. Piedmon anticipated the imminent rain as he gazed out of the enormous window, white gloved hands resting gently on a pristine window ledge. He was, of course, waiting for someone.
The first drops of rain spattered against the window, trickling down timidly. Piedmon smiled a curt smile to himself. He had estimated the start of the rainfall down to a quarter of a minute. Such was his age, such was his connection to the Digital World - such was the sheer volume of data he had amassed over his three-hundred and sixty-three decades of life, he could predict its workings so… precisely. Maybe another fifty decades and he could get that prediction down to the second. His gaze dropped to the streaks of water on the window. Maybe then could he tell, with exact precision, which of these would reach the ledge first.
A knock on the double doors, many tens of metres across the formidable expanse of the chamber, echoed around several times, before the walls began to instead echo Piedmon’s own voice.
“You may enter,” he called.
With a painful groan, the doors slowly opened, and a smaller, cloaked figure entered the room. Myotismon lowered his hood, and smiled up at Piedmon.
“Good evening Myotismon,” PIedmon said, granting the vampire only the smallest of smiles.
“Evening, m’lord,” Myotismon greeted humbly.
“Did you manage to obtain it?” Piedmon asked.
“Yes, m’lord.” Myotismon pulled from his coat a small purple disk. “The next one.”
He handed it to his master.
“Thank you,” Piedmon said.
“Devimon told me this would be the last disk for five weeks. He can’t procure another in less time.”
“We can wait that long.”
Piedmon bent down and rewarded Myotismon with a gentle kiss on his lips. “You may wait for me in my chambers,” he said.
The vampire’s heart pounded with excitement, but he retained his composure. “Thank you, m’lord.”
Myotismon bowed, and turned, and left the room. Piedmon, however, made his way to one of the chamber’s side doors, his steps echoing as though a hundred others walked along with him.
He walked down a corridor, into another, much smaller room, home to only one thing - a computer the size of a washing machine, with a small monitor attached, and five incubators, humming softly, bathed in pleasant purple and green light. Each incubator contained a dozen large, spotted eggs.
Hope was buried deep inside the clown as he slipped the disk into the computer, and pulled a black lever down. The humming grew louder and more hurried amid cracks which reverberated around the Digimon. And then it all stopped, and the machine hummed normally again.
Piedmon released the lever, surveyed the progress, and the damage.
Some of the eggs glowed with a fresh light, as though lit up from within, their shells allowing it to permeate, at least a little. Piedmon breathed a sigh of relief as he saw these. Those in Incubator One which glowed like this, would be transferred to Incubator Two. Those in Incubator Two, would be transferred to Incubator Three, and so on. His attention was drawn to those in incubators Four and Five. These eggs were ready to hatch into new born Viral Digimon - when he wished them to do so.
But this would not be tonight - he would wait until the morning for that. There was another disk, another program, that was needed to hatch the eggs. And MetalSeadramon, probably deep asleep in the lake by now... dealt far better with the newborns than Piedmon did. He could organise their care in their first days. And then, when they were ready, Piedmon could begin to organise their training.
Some of the eggs remained unchanged. These had flat out rejected the data which should nourish them, grow them - but at least they weren’t broken. Piedmon’s attention was now taken by those eggs which had cracked when they tried to take the data. Each incubator told a different story of an egg’s progress - the broken eggs in Incubator One, were little more than fragments of shell, scattered around more fortunate eggs, and those in the other incubators revealed fetal, half-formed data structures vaguely resembling the lowest tier of Digimon.
Piedmon had been doing this for so many decades, and had become hardened to the experience, but he still felt a small twinge of sadness and regret in the depths of him as he cleaned out the shells of the Digimon which would now never be. But this sadness was buried away, for better, and Piedmon thought instead of the promise of the eggs which had not broken, and those which had taken the data - those which were one step closer to being - and those which would become, tomorrow.
Piedmon ejected the used disk from the machine, tossing it aside into the trash. He stepped across the room now, back along the corridor and into the chamber, and when he reached those double doors, he raised a hand and all the torches alight in the room were extinguished at once by his power. For tonight, his work was finished, and Myotismon was waiting for him.
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Triad