PAUSE FOR BOURGEOIS LEGALITIES
"Digimon" and all characters and situations contained within are
copyrighted trademarks of Bandai, Saban Entertainment and Upper Deck.
Permission is hereby granted by the author to reproduce this document
unless you try to make money off of it; if so, please contact me first at
Calcite_McWhalen@hotmail.com. I may be a grown-up cartoon fan but I do
know my way around Title 17.
Eccentricities of this story:
1) I will refer to all major human characters by their Japanese names and everyone else is in English. The traditional English method of first/last name will be followed.
2) This story is an Alternate Universe story. It contains a mild rewrite of 02: Episode 21, or "The Crest of Kindness" and ignores the continuity thereafter. Please go into this story with that in mind as if you don't you will be anywhere from minorly confused to majorly irked, and that's something that neither of us will enjoy.
3) There are no major warnings. This story will remain rated PG:13 for violence, swearing, and possible (and mild) mature content.
****
Prologue
****
TO: Stingmon LOCALE: Primary Village FROM: Elecmon RE: Weekly numbers
Banner week down here. We're actually up in balance for once. Keep in mind that we're gonna hit a dry spell in three months or so. There just haven't been many new eggs lately. I guess the Regent's life extension program two years back is finally paying off, eh?
Speaking of, his weekly visit went oddly. He seemed detached, only interested in the numbers. I haven't seen him so withdrawn before. Any idea what's wrong?
Incidently, you owe me and Teddymon a meal at Digitamamons' place for the totals this week. I definitely plan on collecting, so get it scheduled!
See ya then.
****
TO: Stingmon LOCALE: Server Prime FROM: Leomon RE: Server report
We've been having tooling problems at Factory South: some fool Gizamon wasn't paying enough attention and damn near had its head cut off. He's okay; the factory isn't and won't be cooking again until we get the refined steel from the Pyramid. See if you can get them to speed things up, huh? Totals aren't going anywhere until things get better there.
The Regent stopped by yesterday. Seemed preoccupied. What's cooking down there, Sting? Having the Regent inattentive enough to ignore the possibly injured Gizamon worries me. Get the clown on this, Sting. He's always been better at understanding humans anyway.
Leomon
****
TO: Stingmon LOCALE: Pyramid FROM: Datamon RE: Seal report
Report for Seal Status on 19 March:
Incoming traffic: 874 Received: 24 Redirected: 850 Outgoing traffic: 28 Gate access: 0 Transfers: 0
As if there was any doubt about any of that, anyway. We've got the retooled factory components ready to go: where are they going again? Oh, and get word to the Regent that we've found a new power source for Northern Server, whenever he gets the chance to come down here. We sent him the message directly, but he hasn't responded yet (it was six hours ago or so) and that's unlike him.
The incoming traffic from the human world's been cut down over the last few months by almost 100%. Thankfully we're a completely coexistent dimension now, but perhaps somebody should be sent out to take a look around at things? Absolutely no traffic for almost three months is getting to be worrisome.
--Datamon
****
TO: Stingmon LOCALE: File FROM: Angemon RE: File report
We're at the slow season here in File, so it's about as quiet as it ever gets here. If you want to take a few days to be normal again, now's the time on File. I've even started playing Solitaire to pass the time out here when I'm on. I haven't touched cards in years and look at me! Had to beg Ogremon for a deck.
The Regent stopped by and he actually took a few minutes to himself! When has that ever happened before? Can somebody contact Palmon in Archives and get that checked? Seriously though, he's not like himself right now. It's getting me a little ruffled. Any ideas, Sting? You've known him a lot longer than any of us.
****
TO: Stingmon LOCALE: Northern Peaks FROM: Piedmon RE: Re: Advice
I don't know, but based on the information that I was able to gather from previous expeditions into the human world, I'd say that he's rather solidly in the grip of puberty. He's, what, 17 years now? That's a big year for changing for humans according to what I was able to gather. All of my conclusions are in the Archives, if Palmon will let you into the back where my old stuff is kept. She's pretty touchy sometimes. Oh, and when will the sea excursion be over? The different flyers up here need to stretch their wings, and we're kind of stuck.
****
TO: Regional directors LOCALE: Capital FROM: Stingmon RE: Problem
Guys, thanks for the figures. I have no idea what's going on with the Regent, but it's probably something personal. He's not talking to anyone right now about it, and he's actually working harder than his usual; he's pushing himself too far. I think that if we don't do something that he'll finally give out on us. We need to come up with something guys; can we all meet at Digitamamon's in Server? We need to get this ironed out. Thanks.
****
Digitamamon hollered at some unfortunate Rockmon, "Eat and leave! Twenty minutes!" He then flipped an hourglass above their heads. It trickled sand down into the lower part. "When the hourglass is out, get out or don't come back!"
Piedmon walked in and took the scene shrugging. Glancing around, he admitted to himself that the old egg had finally earned the right to boss around the ever-changing horde that beat down his door -- with a few choice exceptions, of course, but that was only natural. Digitamamom ran up to the counter as fast as his legs could carry a ton of egg shell and whatever was inside of it and bowed to his new guest. "Afternoon, Piedmon! The usual table is all set and already seated!" the egg spouted with remarkable cheerfulness, and motioned. "Your drink has been served, and we'll have your usual order in five minutes or so, so just take a load off or something!"
Piedmon took a moment to take a long look around, leaving the egg looking expectantly at him. He saw that the place had grown; what had been a tiny restaurant inside an old train car had expanded to something that took most of the surrounding farmland to stock. With good food and careful management it had eaten all of the surrounding businesses into itself and as such it was the most obviously profitable restaurant in all of Server. Digitamamon's restaurant hadn't changed in a few ways -- it was still badly lit and possessed a constant cloud of smoke around the ceiling. Older wooden tables littered the area, with -gasp!- matched chairs covering every area of the place. Digitamamon had imported a large amount of Gabumon from the north as employees for their politeness and thoroughness. Despite their adjustment to the heat, they had adapted well enough to both the temperature and the hubbub of running the place.
He glanced at the egg. Piedmon hadn't changed much - all gaunt and long limbed, with the twin swords and the painted face -- except that the different ribbons that had adorned his costume had been abandoned. He promptly looked away and the egg got the picture right away, backing off with a murmered apology. Chuckling to himself, Piedmon strode down the crowded floor, the various inhabitants clearing a path for him, and arrived at the table with the others. Such as it was, anyway; Stingmon had yet to arrive, and Leomon wasn't going to make it; still, Palmon had sent at the last minute that she was interested, and her off-again on-again flame Agumon -- Piedmon chuckled to himself at the pun -- was at her elbow, sampling whatever it was that he had ordered.
He strode right up to the table, nodding at Datamon as he went, and collapsed into one of the chairs there. Angemon slid him his cup and Piedmon knocked half of it back before breathing deeply and nodding to the angel. "Thanks."
"No problem," Angemon said, while sipping out of his cup. "I still don't know why you order the '56 when the '87 is so much better."
"My preference," Piedmon said, finishing his cup. "Besides, who ever heard of preferring a newer brandy over a well-aged one?"
"Me," Angemon said with a straight face. They both laughed. Datamon, on the left, finished whatever conversation he was having with Elecmon and nodded towards the door. Piedmon followed his gaze and saw ShogunGeckomon making his large way through the crowd. He had shrunk somewhat over the past years, but hadn't ever lost his sheer bulk. He waddled over to where the others were gathered and nodded.
"Shogun," Piedmon said, inclining his head to the left slightly. "How are things in Little Tokyo?" ShogunGeckomon only glared down at him. Even after almost ten years ShogunGeckomon hadn't forgiven Piedmon for his role in the Apocylomon fiasco. Piedmon had long since figured out that he couldn't please everyone.
"They're just fine," the huge gecko grated out, and turned to Angemon, whom he greeted considerably more amicably.
Datamon said, "He can sure hold a grudge." Elecmon nodded sagely, then glanced up at a segmented humanoid with antenna and short red hair that had just walked to the table. Datamon followed his gaze -- "Ah, Stingmon. We were almost starting to get concerned."
"Sorry guys," Stingmon said, sitting down carefully. The green insect had grown another foot and a half, with blade extensions to match, and was still learning grace in casual movements. It was a constant struggle for the bug. "I had to finish the paperwork before I could leave, and since Leomon filed extra stuff..."
"We get the picture, Sting. It was a normal day in the office." Agumon slid over a tall glass of some unknown liquid, which Stingmon promptly downed with his tube-like tongue. "How's Gomamon taking the new arrivals?"
"Same as every other year," Stingmon responded between shots of... whatever he was drinking. "He's always been a big complainer, but he gets the job done right. Still, that's a lot of Scubamon and Divermon moving through Whamon's usual territory."
Piedmon nodded. Of all of the Digimon gathered here, Stingmon was the sole one that he respected for his strength, which was hidden until he really needed it. Also wielding two swords didn't hurt much, either. "When will the migration be over? The Demidevimon need to stretch their wings, and I'm running out of space real fast."
"Serves 'em right," Shogungeckomon huffed.
"Give them two more weeks, and you'll have all the unrestricted airspace you'll need. Keep in mind, though, that Devidramon need to stay up in the peaks, or you'll have the other Dramon types knocking at your door." Stingmon paused a moment, looked around. Digitamamon had done his job splendidly; there wasn't anyone within hearing distance. "Ok, Datamon. We're clean -- give us the update."
Everyone leaned forward to hear what the diminutive Datamon had to say. It wasn't good news. "Ok guys, you all know how we've had less and less contact with the humans' Internet for the last few months, right?" Nods were traded around the wooden table. "Well, now we're down to about three active servers left for the Internet, with less than a thousand packets of transfer a day, people. I'm pretty sure that they're shutting the thing down." Most of them rocked backwards somewhat; even Piedmon blinked, a sure sign of a reaction. Datamon hurried to explain: "While we're entirely self-powered now in the Digital World, what this means is that we won't be able to explore what's going on in the real world for some time - perhaps forever if the humans don't ever get a comparable system back on-line." They all became quiet for a moment.
Datamon broke the silence by continuing: "Since the Net's going down, we're going to have to completely redo the Seals that keep us safe; you know, reconfigure them for a new type of system. We're not set up for that at all. In fact, I don't think that we could be set up in a year's time. We simply rely too much on our current Seals."
Palmon broke in. "If you all remember, the Seals rely on the dedicated existence of external servers to work. It creates a resonance with them that disallows any kind of movement in while we're more or less free to exit, although coming back requires little short of a miracle. You all know who built it and for what purpose; now, they're used only for our security . We can't keep the things running without the human Internet."
Datamon continued once Palmon was done. "So: without the Seals to rely on, we'll have to find some other way to defend ourselves from outside attack, and I'll be out of a job, not to mention most of central Server. We've got a lot of people at the pyramid complex."
Elecmon responded first. "The Regent's gotta have gotten the report before all of us did; you sent it in to him."
"I pulled it down before it made it to him," Stingmon said quietly.
Piedmon raised an eyebrow. "Surprise." The others reacted somewhat more strongly.
Angemon, of them, was the first to pull himself back together. "You know he's got to know that by now. He doesn't miss a thing; he'll catch that too."
Palmon nodded. "You can't hide something from him long in the Digital World," she declared. "It's like he's always had a rapport with the World that we can't catch."
"I live with the guy," Stingmon said testily. "I know all of this. Still, it'll take him time and that's time for us to plan. You know how he'll react."
Piedmon nodded. "We can't stop him." The others added their assents. "What, then do you propose?"
Stingmon shrugged. "Who wants to take on the extra duties?"
Angemon responded first again. "Guys, I think we're jumping the gun a little bit. What if the humans are simply changing the way that they do things?"
"We can't just react," Palmon said. "We have to plan ahead, to figure out what they're up to." Agumon laid a hand on her shoulder. Emboldened, she continued, "I think that we should send somebody through into the Real World!"
"Are you mad?" ShogunGeckomon responded. "We don't exactly fit in. In fact, once our cover's blown we'll have the humans researching us and treating us as animals. It'll be a disaster."
"We could always employ the Bakemon," Piedmon pointed out, and everybody but ShogunGeckomon and Piedmon stiffened. They all knew what was coming; a confrontation between the two administrators had been building for some time. This time, however, it was not to be. ShogunGeckomon considered the idea intelligently.
"The Bakemon are largely useless; they can't hold their shape for that long, and you'd need a fighter like Phantomon to back them up, which would give them the wrong idea and they'd likely make a mistake in that scenario," the giant responded.
Piedmon grinned. "I could go."
The giant grunted. "Worse idea. If you go, we have nobody to control the Darkness digimon of the north. It'd be back to the old days, and nobody wants to see that."
"We need somebody trustworthy and skilled that we could lose for a month or so." Piedmon could not surpress a victorious smirk.
ShogunGeckomon opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. "You bastard."
Palmon said, "You haven't changed a bit, have you?"
"What?" Piedmon said innocently. "You know that the Regent would approve." Everyone glared at him and looked away except for Stingmon who packed more force behind his glare. That worried Piedmon.
"We can't afford to lose the Regent right now. We've got too much going on in the Digital World to send him off on some improbable mission!" Stingmon said hotly. At the same time, Palmon was pushing the exploration idea at Angemon, which immediately had Datamon disapproving, and the whole table erupted into arguing Digimon. Several of the surrounding Gabumon and their guests stopped what they were doing to watch the argument. Upon the staring, the lot of the arguers calmed down almost immediately and sat down.
Digitamamon decided that food, being the source of all of his happiness, would help these Digimon out too and sent in the Gabumon. It took fully three minutes to serve all of the different administrators and, mostly ignoring each other, they dug in and ate.
"Why don't we ask him that?" Elecmon said distantly. It was the first spoken word in a while. "He'd probably approve." Elecmon ignored the glares he received and continued: "See, if I was the Regent, I'd be real concerned with what was going on in the Real World. It's where he's from and is still his first home. Nobody forgets his first home."
Piedmon cocked his head to one side. "What makes you so sure?"
"He would."
The extra voice brought all of the Digimon -- Administrators and the other guests alike -- around to see an old man standing at the entrance to Digitamamon's restaurant. He still only wore a simple vest and khakis, but walked with the aid of a stick now. His faithful guardian Armadillomon, still as drowsy-looking as always, stood at his side. The crowd parted reverently for him.
All of the Digimon stood, save for Piedmon. "Gennai," Agumon breathed.
Piedmon nodded to the lone empty chair, one that had been reserved for Leomon. "Join the fun." The older Guardian of the Digital world strode slowly into a chair nearby, sighing quietly as he carefully sat down. He then reclined somewhat.
Internally, Piedmon realized that the old Guardian wasn't getting any younger. Out loud, "So why exactly do you support my little suggestion?"
Gennai glanced over from greeting Agumon. "Because he's getting to the age where he needs to be among others of his kind. He can't keep just hiding here in the Digital World." Everyone became quiet at that pronouncement.
Datamon reacted first. "You'd send our primary administrator and possibly our best defender into a region that could destroy him emotionally and return him to us a useless shell?" he asked skeptically. "If that's your analysis, I'm questioning your judgement." This caused a bit of murmuring among all of the onlookers.
Agumon looked up sharply. "Hey! You're a computer-type. Stick to what you know." Piedmon shot the onlookers a glance, and for the most part they decided that there were better things to watch.
"I agree," said Stingmon. "You're not giving the Regent much credit for strength." He shook his head. "He's been on the receiving end of a lot of things, and we've seen what he's worked through to accomplish great things."
"You sure changed your mind fast," Datamon shot back.
"If Gennai says it's a good idea, it's a good idea."
"He's always had great strength of will," Palmon added. "He should be fine." Agumon nodded his agreement, mouth full of pie.
"I'm in," Elecmon shrugged. "I'd trust him with any of my kids; he'll do great!"
"We need someone with advance knowledge of how humans do things," ShogunGeckomon said.
"Also with the ability to pass himself off as a local," Piedmon added.
Datamon looked around, at the different faces of conviction, and gave it up then and there. "Fine, then. Who tells the Regent?"
"I will," said Stingmon.
****
Eighty-five percent.
Eighty five percent!
EIGHTY-FIVE PERCENT!
He would've given all of the nearby minions a lesson in dancing if it wouldn't hurt his ability to command. Eighty-five percent, dammit. Nobody else even came close! Nobody else had that kind of total, complete coverage.
Eighty-five percent. He could have laughed. Jumped for joy. His little model of the globe spun over on his right, showing each immaculate detail, each carefully planned move, that lead to a more complete coverage that all of the modern dictators combined couldn't touch. He knew in his heart that eighty-five percent had been more than the one named Hitler had even dreamed about; Hitler wanted a mere twelve percent of the world, which paled -- absolutely paled -- when compared to what he had accomplished in a mere two years. Paled.
They were pathetic. They really were. He longed for somebody to tell just how pathetic they all were. His offer to them was a silly idea at first, one that took time to catch on, one that he just threw out there to do something. Then they surprised him by jumping at it! They all loved it! It was like he was the Pied Piper to an entire world. He played and all of them, even his enemies of old, simply followed his tune and danced right into his dream. Incredible. Now, he could move on to stages of his plan that even he had admitted to himself were unattainable. Unthinkable.
Surprisingly... unexciting. Not interesting, as he had originally thought.
They had given it to him.
That was the crux of a problem that he hadn't even thought could exist.
It was unfortunate, really, that they had not fostered more resistance to his rule. He had grown... bored with the world. It was no longer a thrill to have another convert. Another person who was swayed to his side -- what did it matter? They would just join the mass of enchanted people who were even now shambling to work, out into what farce their play was these days. They were nothing special. Most of his former rivals had simply bought into it as well. He had no rivals.
With, perhaps, one exception. It gave him, ironically, a sincere reason to go on and continue his little rampage. Ah well, it was time for the nightly examination and he hated missing that.
He got up from his overly ornate chair -- one of those big La-z-boy things that were almost all stuffing -- and walked out to the elevator that served the top floor of his little establishment. He liked to think of it as humble compared to the one he would eventually build, but it served well enough now. He pressed a button, and the doors clunked shut. It opened on the bottom floor of his building, which was something of a basement. He strode over to the counter and leaned out over it which gave him a view of the whole of the room. The room itself was more than three stories tall, and each ounce of space was put to use. Technicians ran around wildly, carrying different printouts and information that they believed useful. Others crouched over their cramped instrument panels, ones that lined the edges of the room, and sent in commands that kept the object of their attentions steady and solid.
As for said object...
It dominated the center of the room and took more than the three stories to contain. It was largely akin to the typical fish bowl, except for its exactness in construction and design, and its use. For rather than fish and water this bowl was filled with a swirl of energy, one that pulsated and hummed and lit the room with its brilliance. When he first started this project, most of the power expenses that he had paid went into powering this room; now, thanks to the energy his device held, it powered itself, the building, the surrounding countryside, and most of the city without losing a gram of potence. The best part of the deal, though, was what the energy was composed of. It was nothing less that 25% of all of the life energy in the world, carefully gathered from all of -them- together, and it was the whole point of everything, from the coverage to the takeover to even the resistance.
As usual, he was given to laughter when seeing the room, and his insidious chuckle echoed throughout the lands of a deadened world...
Eccentricities of this story:
1) I will refer to all major human characters by their Japanese names and everyone else is in English. The traditional English method of first/last name will be followed.
2) This story is an Alternate Universe story. It contains a mild rewrite of 02: Episode 21, or "The Crest of Kindness" and ignores the continuity thereafter. Please go into this story with that in mind as if you don't you will be anywhere from minorly confused to majorly irked, and that's something that neither of us will enjoy.
3) There are no major warnings. This story will remain rated PG:13 for violence, swearing, and possible (and mild) mature content.
****
Prologue
****
TO: Stingmon LOCALE: Primary Village FROM: Elecmon RE: Weekly numbers
Banner week down here. We're actually up in balance for once. Keep in mind that we're gonna hit a dry spell in three months or so. There just haven't been many new eggs lately. I guess the Regent's life extension program two years back is finally paying off, eh?
Speaking of, his weekly visit went oddly. He seemed detached, only interested in the numbers. I haven't seen him so withdrawn before. Any idea what's wrong?
Incidently, you owe me and Teddymon a meal at Digitamamons' place for the totals this week. I definitely plan on collecting, so get it scheduled!
See ya then.
****
TO: Stingmon LOCALE: Server Prime FROM: Leomon RE: Server report
We've been having tooling problems at Factory South: some fool Gizamon wasn't paying enough attention and damn near had its head cut off. He's okay; the factory isn't and won't be cooking again until we get the refined steel from the Pyramid. See if you can get them to speed things up, huh? Totals aren't going anywhere until things get better there.
The Regent stopped by yesterday. Seemed preoccupied. What's cooking down there, Sting? Having the Regent inattentive enough to ignore the possibly injured Gizamon worries me. Get the clown on this, Sting. He's always been better at understanding humans anyway.
Leomon
****
TO: Stingmon LOCALE: Pyramid FROM: Datamon RE: Seal report
Report for Seal Status on 19 March:
Incoming traffic: 874 Received: 24 Redirected: 850 Outgoing traffic: 28 Gate access: 0 Transfers: 0
As if there was any doubt about any of that, anyway. We've got the retooled factory components ready to go: where are they going again? Oh, and get word to the Regent that we've found a new power source for Northern Server, whenever he gets the chance to come down here. We sent him the message directly, but he hasn't responded yet (it was six hours ago or so) and that's unlike him.
The incoming traffic from the human world's been cut down over the last few months by almost 100%. Thankfully we're a completely coexistent dimension now, but perhaps somebody should be sent out to take a look around at things? Absolutely no traffic for almost three months is getting to be worrisome.
--Datamon
****
TO: Stingmon LOCALE: File FROM: Angemon RE: File report
We're at the slow season here in File, so it's about as quiet as it ever gets here. If you want to take a few days to be normal again, now's the time on File. I've even started playing Solitaire to pass the time out here when I'm on. I haven't touched cards in years and look at me! Had to beg Ogremon for a deck.
The Regent stopped by and he actually took a few minutes to himself! When has that ever happened before? Can somebody contact Palmon in Archives and get that checked? Seriously though, he's not like himself right now. It's getting me a little ruffled. Any ideas, Sting? You've known him a lot longer than any of us.
****
TO: Stingmon LOCALE: Northern Peaks FROM: Piedmon RE: Re: Advice
I don't know, but based on the information that I was able to gather from previous expeditions into the human world, I'd say that he's rather solidly in the grip of puberty. He's, what, 17 years now? That's a big year for changing for humans according to what I was able to gather. All of my conclusions are in the Archives, if Palmon will let you into the back where my old stuff is kept. She's pretty touchy sometimes. Oh, and when will the sea excursion be over? The different flyers up here need to stretch their wings, and we're kind of stuck.
****
TO: Regional directors LOCALE: Capital FROM: Stingmon RE: Problem
Guys, thanks for the figures. I have no idea what's going on with the Regent, but it's probably something personal. He's not talking to anyone right now about it, and he's actually working harder than his usual; he's pushing himself too far. I think that if we don't do something that he'll finally give out on us. We need to come up with something guys; can we all meet at Digitamamon's in Server? We need to get this ironed out. Thanks.
****
Digitamamon hollered at some unfortunate Rockmon, "Eat and leave! Twenty minutes!" He then flipped an hourglass above their heads. It trickled sand down into the lower part. "When the hourglass is out, get out or don't come back!"
Piedmon walked in and took the scene shrugging. Glancing around, he admitted to himself that the old egg had finally earned the right to boss around the ever-changing horde that beat down his door -- with a few choice exceptions, of course, but that was only natural. Digitamamom ran up to the counter as fast as his legs could carry a ton of egg shell and whatever was inside of it and bowed to his new guest. "Afternoon, Piedmon! The usual table is all set and already seated!" the egg spouted with remarkable cheerfulness, and motioned. "Your drink has been served, and we'll have your usual order in five minutes or so, so just take a load off or something!"
Piedmon took a moment to take a long look around, leaving the egg looking expectantly at him. He saw that the place had grown; what had been a tiny restaurant inside an old train car had expanded to something that took most of the surrounding farmland to stock. With good food and careful management it had eaten all of the surrounding businesses into itself and as such it was the most obviously profitable restaurant in all of Server. Digitamamon's restaurant hadn't changed in a few ways -- it was still badly lit and possessed a constant cloud of smoke around the ceiling. Older wooden tables littered the area, with -gasp!- matched chairs covering every area of the place. Digitamamon had imported a large amount of Gabumon from the north as employees for their politeness and thoroughness. Despite their adjustment to the heat, they had adapted well enough to both the temperature and the hubbub of running the place.
He glanced at the egg. Piedmon hadn't changed much - all gaunt and long limbed, with the twin swords and the painted face -- except that the different ribbons that had adorned his costume had been abandoned. He promptly looked away and the egg got the picture right away, backing off with a murmered apology. Chuckling to himself, Piedmon strode down the crowded floor, the various inhabitants clearing a path for him, and arrived at the table with the others. Such as it was, anyway; Stingmon had yet to arrive, and Leomon wasn't going to make it; still, Palmon had sent at the last minute that she was interested, and her off-again on-again flame Agumon -- Piedmon chuckled to himself at the pun -- was at her elbow, sampling whatever it was that he had ordered.
He strode right up to the table, nodding at Datamon as he went, and collapsed into one of the chairs there. Angemon slid him his cup and Piedmon knocked half of it back before breathing deeply and nodding to the angel. "Thanks."
"No problem," Angemon said, while sipping out of his cup. "I still don't know why you order the '56 when the '87 is so much better."
"My preference," Piedmon said, finishing his cup. "Besides, who ever heard of preferring a newer brandy over a well-aged one?"
"Me," Angemon said with a straight face. They both laughed. Datamon, on the left, finished whatever conversation he was having with Elecmon and nodded towards the door. Piedmon followed his gaze and saw ShogunGeckomon making his large way through the crowd. He had shrunk somewhat over the past years, but hadn't ever lost his sheer bulk. He waddled over to where the others were gathered and nodded.
"Shogun," Piedmon said, inclining his head to the left slightly. "How are things in Little Tokyo?" ShogunGeckomon only glared down at him. Even after almost ten years ShogunGeckomon hadn't forgiven Piedmon for his role in the Apocylomon fiasco. Piedmon had long since figured out that he couldn't please everyone.
"They're just fine," the huge gecko grated out, and turned to Angemon, whom he greeted considerably more amicably.
Datamon said, "He can sure hold a grudge." Elecmon nodded sagely, then glanced up at a segmented humanoid with antenna and short red hair that had just walked to the table. Datamon followed his gaze -- "Ah, Stingmon. We were almost starting to get concerned."
"Sorry guys," Stingmon said, sitting down carefully. The green insect had grown another foot and a half, with blade extensions to match, and was still learning grace in casual movements. It was a constant struggle for the bug. "I had to finish the paperwork before I could leave, and since Leomon filed extra stuff..."
"We get the picture, Sting. It was a normal day in the office." Agumon slid over a tall glass of some unknown liquid, which Stingmon promptly downed with his tube-like tongue. "How's Gomamon taking the new arrivals?"
"Same as every other year," Stingmon responded between shots of... whatever he was drinking. "He's always been a big complainer, but he gets the job done right. Still, that's a lot of Scubamon and Divermon moving through Whamon's usual territory."
Piedmon nodded. Of all of the Digimon gathered here, Stingmon was the sole one that he respected for his strength, which was hidden until he really needed it. Also wielding two swords didn't hurt much, either. "When will the migration be over? The Demidevimon need to stretch their wings, and I'm running out of space real fast."
"Serves 'em right," Shogungeckomon huffed.
"Give them two more weeks, and you'll have all the unrestricted airspace you'll need. Keep in mind, though, that Devidramon need to stay up in the peaks, or you'll have the other Dramon types knocking at your door." Stingmon paused a moment, looked around. Digitamamon had done his job splendidly; there wasn't anyone within hearing distance. "Ok, Datamon. We're clean -- give us the update."
Everyone leaned forward to hear what the diminutive Datamon had to say. It wasn't good news. "Ok guys, you all know how we've had less and less contact with the humans' Internet for the last few months, right?" Nods were traded around the wooden table. "Well, now we're down to about three active servers left for the Internet, with less than a thousand packets of transfer a day, people. I'm pretty sure that they're shutting the thing down." Most of them rocked backwards somewhat; even Piedmon blinked, a sure sign of a reaction. Datamon hurried to explain: "While we're entirely self-powered now in the Digital World, what this means is that we won't be able to explore what's going on in the real world for some time - perhaps forever if the humans don't ever get a comparable system back on-line." They all became quiet for a moment.
Datamon broke the silence by continuing: "Since the Net's going down, we're going to have to completely redo the Seals that keep us safe; you know, reconfigure them for a new type of system. We're not set up for that at all. In fact, I don't think that we could be set up in a year's time. We simply rely too much on our current Seals."
Palmon broke in. "If you all remember, the Seals rely on the dedicated existence of external servers to work. It creates a resonance with them that disallows any kind of movement in while we're more or less free to exit, although coming back requires little short of a miracle. You all know who built it and for what purpose; now, they're used only for our security . We can't keep the things running without the human Internet."
Datamon continued once Palmon was done. "So: without the Seals to rely on, we'll have to find some other way to defend ourselves from outside attack, and I'll be out of a job, not to mention most of central Server. We've got a lot of people at the pyramid complex."
Elecmon responded first. "The Regent's gotta have gotten the report before all of us did; you sent it in to him."
"I pulled it down before it made it to him," Stingmon said quietly.
Piedmon raised an eyebrow. "Surprise." The others reacted somewhat more strongly.
Angemon, of them, was the first to pull himself back together. "You know he's got to know that by now. He doesn't miss a thing; he'll catch that too."
Palmon nodded. "You can't hide something from him long in the Digital World," she declared. "It's like he's always had a rapport with the World that we can't catch."
"I live with the guy," Stingmon said testily. "I know all of this. Still, it'll take him time and that's time for us to plan. You know how he'll react."
Piedmon nodded. "We can't stop him." The others added their assents. "What, then do you propose?"
Stingmon shrugged. "Who wants to take on the extra duties?"
Angemon responded first again. "Guys, I think we're jumping the gun a little bit. What if the humans are simply changing the way that they do things?"
"We can't just react," Palmon said. "We have to plan ahead, to figure out what they're up to." Agumon laid a hand on her shoulder. Emboldened, she continued, "I think that we should send somebody through into the Real World!"
"Are you mad?" ShogunGeckomon responded. "We don't exactly fit in. In fact, once our cover's blown we'll have the humans researching us and treating us as animals. It'll be a disaster."
"We could always employ the Bakemon," Piedmon pointed out, and everybody but ShogunGeckomon and Piedmon stiffened. They all knew what was coming; a confrontation between the two administrators had been building for some time. This time, however, it was not to be. ShogunGeckomon considered the idea intelligently.
"The Bakemon are largely useless; they can't hold their shape for that long, and you'd need a fighter like Phantomon to back them up, which would give them the wrong idea and they'd likely make a mistake in that scenario," the giant responded.
Piedmon grinned. "I could go."
The giant grunted. "Worse idea. If you go, we have nobody to control the Darkness digimon of the north. It'd be back to the old days, and nobody wants to see that."
"We need somebody trustworthy and skilled that we could lose for a month or so." Piedmon could not surpress a victorious smirk.
ShogunGeckomon opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. "You bastard."
Palmon said, "You haven't changed a bit, have you?"
"What?" Piedmon said innocently. "You know that the Regent would approve." Everyone glared at him and looked away except for Stingmon who packed more force behind his glare. That worried Piedmon.
"We can't afford to lose the Regent right now. We've got too much going on in the Digital World to send him off on some improbable mission!" Stingmon said hotly. At the same time, Palmon was pushing the exploration idea at Angemon, which immediately had Datamon disapproving, and the whole table erupted into arguing Digimon. Several of the surrounding Gabumon and their guests stopped what they were doing to watch the argument. Upon the staring, the lot of the arguers calmed down almost immediately and sat down.
Digitamamon decided that food, being the source of all of his happiness, would help these Digimon out too and sent in the Gabumon. It took fully three minutes to serve all of the different administrators and, mostly ignoring each other, they dug in and ate.
"Why don't we ask him that?" Elecmon said distantly. It was the first spoken word in a while. "He'd probably approve." Elecmon ignored the glares he received and continued: "See, if I was the Regent, I'd be real concerned with what was going on in the Real World. It's where he's from and is still his first home. Nobody forgets his first home."
Piedmon cocked his head to one side. "What makes you so sure?"
"He would."
The extra voice brought all of the Digimon -- Administrators and the other guests alike -- around to see an old man standing at the entrance to Digitamamon's restaurant. He still only wore a simple vest and khakis, but walked with the aid of a stick now. His faithful guardian Armadillomon, still as drowsy-looking as always, stood at his side. The crowd parted reverently for him.
All of the Digimon stood, save for Piedmon. "Gennai," Agumon breathed.
Piedmon nodded to the lone empty chair, one that had been reserved for Leomon. "Join the fun." The older Guardian of the Digital world strode slowly into a chair nearby, sighing quietly as he carefully sat down. He then reclined somewhat.
Internally, Piedmon realized that the old Guardian wasn't getting any younger. Out loud, "So why exactly do you support my little suggestion?"
Gennai glanced over from greeting Agumon. "Because he's getting to the age where he needs to be among others of his kind. He can't keep just hiding here in the Digital World." Everyone became quiet at that pronouncement.
Datamon reacted first. "You'd send our primary administrator and possibly our best defender into a region that could destroy him emotionally and return him to us a useless shell?" he asked skeptically. "If that's your analysis, I'm questioning your judgement." This caused a bit of murmuring among all of the onlookers.
Agumon looked up sharply. "Hey! You're a computer-type. Stick to what you know." Piedmon shot the onlookers a glance, and for the most part they decided that there were better things to watch.
"I agree," said Stingmon. "You're not giving the Regent much credit for strength." He shook his head. "He's been on the receiving end of a lot of things, and we've seen what he's worked through to accomplish great things."
"You sure changed your mind fast," Datamon shot back.
"If Gennai says it's a good idea, it's a good idea."
"He's always had great strength of will," Palmon added. "He should be fine." Agumon nodded his agreement, mouth full of pie.
"I'm in," Elecmon shrugged. "I'd trust him with any of my kids; he'll do great!"
"We need someone with advance knowledge of how humans do things," ShogunGeckomon said.
"Also with the ability to pass himself off as a local," Piedmon added.
Datamon looked around, at the different faces of conviction, and gave it up then and there. "Fine, then. Who tells the Regent?"
"I will," said Stingmon.
****
Eighty-five percent.
Eighty five percent!
EIGHTY-FIVE PERCENT!
He would've given all of the nearby minions a lesson in dancing if it wouldn't hurt his ability to command. Eighty-five percent, dammit. Nobody else even came close! Nobody else had that kind of total, complete coverage.
Eighty-five percent. He could have laughed. Jumped for joy. His little model of the globe spun over on his right, showing each immaculate detail, each carefully planned move, that lead to a more complete coverage that all of the modern dictators combined couldn't touch. He knew in his heart that eighty-five percent had been more than the one named Hitler had even dreamed about; Hitler wanted a mere twelve percent of the world, which paled -- absolutely paled -- when compared to what he had accomplished in a mere two years. Paled.
They were pathetic. They really were. He longed for somebody to tell just how pathetic they all were. His offer to them was a silly idea at first, one that took time to catch on, one that he just threw out there to do something. Then they surprised him by jumping at it! They all loved it! It was like he was the Pied Piper to an entire world. He played and all of them, even his enemies of old, simply followed his tune and danced right into his dream. Incredible. Now, he could move on to stages of his plan that even he had admitted to himself were unattainable. Unthinkable.
Surprisingly... unexciting. Not interesting, as he had originally thought.
They had given it to him.
That was the crux of a problem that he hadn't even thought could exist.
It was unfortunate, really, that they had not fostered more resistance to his rule. He had grown... bored with the world. It was no longer a thrill to have another convert. Another person who was swayed to his side -- what did it matter? They would just join the mass of enchanted people who were even now shambling to work, out into what farce their play was these days. They were nothing special. Most of his former rivals had simply bought into it as well. He had no rivals.
With, perhaps, one exception. It gave him, ironically, a sincere reason to go on and continue his little rampage. Ah well, it was time for the nightly examination and he hated missing that.
He got up from his overly ornate chair -- one of those big La-z-boy things that were almost all stuffing -- and walked out to the elevator that served the top floor of his little establishment. He liked to think of it as humble compared to the one he would eventually build, but it served well enough now. He pressed a button, and the doors clunked shut. It opened on the bottom floor of his building, which was something of a basement. He strode over to the counter and leaned out over it which gave him a view of the whole of the room. The room itself was more than three stories tall, and each ounce of space was put to use. Technicians ran around wildly, carrying different printouts and information that they believed useful. Others crouched over their cramped instrument panels, ones that lined the edges of the room, and sent in commands that kept the object of their attentions steady and solid.
As for said object...
It dominated the center of the room and took more than the three stories to contain. It was largely akin to the typical fish bowl, except for its exactness in construction and design, and its use. For rather than fish and water this bowl was filled with a swirl of energy, one that pulsated and hummed and lit the room with its brilliance. When he first started this project, most of the power expenses that he had paid went into powering this room; now, thanks to the energy his device held, it powered itself, the building, the surrounding countryside, and most of the city without losing a gram of potence. The best part of the deal, though, was what the energy was composed of. It was nothing less that 25% of all of the life energy in the world, carefully gathered from all of -them- together, and it was the whole point of everything, from the coverage to the takeover to even the resistance.
As usual, he was given to laughter when seeing the room, and his insidious chuckle echoed throughout the lands of a deadened world...