Let's reach 100 Power Stones for an extra chapter
***
-Coulson-
My comm crackles to life, cutting through the post-buffet glow. "Coulson, report to Fury's office. Now."
I sigh. "On my way, Director." So much for enjoying the quiet evening.
The Triskelion is buzzing as I head to Fury's office. Agents rush around, their faces tight with purpose. I wonder what crisis is brewing now.
Fury's office is minimalist, all sharp angles and cold steel. The only personal touch is a worn leather chair behind his desk. Fury himself is as imposing as ever. His black trench coat is immaculate, hiding whatever tactical gear he's carrying. An eye patch covers his left eye, giving him that signature intimidating stare.
"You wanted to see me, Director?" I ask, ever the professional.
"Close the door, Coulson."
I do, turning back to face him. He looks serious. More serious than usual. His dark skin is pulled taut over his cheekbones, and his one good eye is fixed on me with an intensity that makes me want to shift uncomfortably. This can't be good.
"I've got a situation brewing, Coulson, and I need you on it. Top priority. Need eyes on, assessment, and a plan. Understand?"
"Understood." I wait, knowing better than to press him. Fury reveals things in his own time, and only when he's damn good and ready.
He slides a file across the desk. It's thick, heavier than I'd expect. The cover is unmarked, but I know better than to judge a book by its cover. I open it.
The first few pages are filled with grainy surveillance stills. A figure in some kind of tactical getup, goggles, face mask, the works. Nothing particularly special, until I see the distortion around him. Is that a cloaking device? And then there are the other two.
"What am I looking at, Director?" I ask, flipping through the images. There are different angles, locations, all from what looks like security cameras and traffic cams. The resolution is crap, but I can make out details. One shot shows them perched on a gargoyle overlooking Times Square. Another has them disappearing into an alleyway.
"For the past week," Fury says, his voice low and gravelly, "we've been tracking reports of... incidents. Gang hideouts being systematically dismantled. Weapon caches destroyed. All pointing to this individual." He taps the file. "And these two."
He gestures to the creatures accompanying the cloaked figure. They're... feline, but definitely not cats. Bipedal, almost humanoid, with sharp claws and glowing eyes. One is pure white, the other a shadowy black. I raise an eyebrow.
"Those two," Fury continues, "aren't human. We've been getting reports of more non-human entities appearing lately. Something's happening, Coulson. Something big."
I pause, considering the images. "Are we talking aliens, Director?" It's the obvious question, the one that always seems to hover in the air around here.
Fury's gaze doesn't waver. "Could be. Could be something else entirely. That's what I need you to find out."
He leans forward, his intensity increasing. "This individual has been making waves. Recently took down Tombstone. That got my attention. We need to know who he is, what he is, and what his intentions are."
"Tombstone? That's a serious escalation." I know that name. Lonnie Lincoln. A heavy hitter in the underworld. Taking him down is no small feat. "We have any ID on him?"
Fury shakes his head. "Nothing concrete. The cloaking tech is good. Too good. We've got some theories, but nothing I'm willing to bet on yet. As for the other two... we're drawing blanks. No matches in any database. Terrestrial or otherwise."
He stares at me, his one good eye boring into my soul. "I want you to find him, Coulson. Find out who he is, what he's up to, and if he's a threat. Start with Tombstone's operation. See what you can dig up. And Coulson?"
"Yes, Director?"
"Be careful. We don't know what we're dealing with here."
I nod, accepting the assignment. "Understood, Director. I'll proceed with caution."
Following Fury's orders is second nature. Some missions are a real head-scratcher, but I've learned to trust his instincts, even when they lead down some pretty strange rabbit holes. Dangerous too, but that's part of the job.
"Dismissed."
I leave Fury's office, file in hand. My first stop: a meeting with one Lonnie Lincoln, AKA Tombstone. It's going to be a delicate conversation. The guy is not known for his friendly demeanor. Still, it's a starting point, and sometimes, the best intel comes from the most unexpected sources.
…
The file felt heavier as I walked toward the detention center. Fury wanted answers, and I was going to get them, even if it meant talking to a brick wall like Lonnie Lincoln.
The guards eyed me warily as I flashed my credentials. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of disinfectant and simmering tension. After Ethan took down Tombstone, it was a field day for the NYPD. All the evidence Ethan left behind meant an easy conviction and imprisonment for Tombstone.
They led me to a small, sterile room. A metal table and two chairs were bolted to the floor. I waited, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in my gut.
The door creaked open, and Tombstone shuffled in, his massive frame still imposing even in an orange jumpsuit. His grey skin seemed duller under the fluorescent lights, but his red eyes still held that chilling intensity. He sat heavily, the metal chair groaning under his weight.
"Who are you?" he grunted, his voice like gravel grinding on stone.
"My name is Agent Coulson," I said, keeping my tone neutral, non-threatening. "I'm here to ask you some questions about recent events."
He sneered, showing those filed teeth. "The cops already asked their questions. I ain't got nothing more to say."
I leaned forward slightly, adopting a more conciliatory tone. "I understand you're in a difficult situation, Mr. Lincoln. But I believe I can offer you something in return for your cooperation."
His eyes narrowed, a flicker of interest igniting within them. "What do you mean?"
"Let's just say I have connections. Connections that could make things… more comfortable for you here. Maybe even expedite your appeal process." It was a bluff, of course. SHIELD didn't usually get involved in prison matters. But sometimes, a little carrot was needed to loosen the tongue.
He considered my words, his gaze unwavering. "And what do you want in return?"
"Information. About the individual who dismantled your operations. The one with the… unusual companions."
A ghost of a smile played on his lips. "The cat man. Yeah, he caused me some trouble."
"He's more than just trouble, Mr. Lincoln. He's a potential threat. And I need to understand what motivated him, where he came from, and who he's working with."
Tombstone sighed, the sound like air escaping a punctured tire. "Look, I don't know who this guy is. All I know is he's young. A kid, really. But he's got power. And those… things he hangs around with, they ain't normal."
"The cats?" I prompted.
"Yeah, the cats. And something else. A lion. Showed up outta nowhere, beat Ogremon into the ground."
"Ogremon?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even. The name was new, and unexpected.
"Yeah, some kind of monster. Claimed he'd make me strong enough to take back what was mine. Showed up on my computer screen one night. All static and distortion. Said he was there to give me power."
"Did Ogremon tell you anything about himself? His origins?" I pressed.
Tombstone shook his head. "Not much. He just said he was there to help. He called the kid... 'Chosen Child.' Said he had a connection to those things. That's all I know. He didn't tell me much about Digimon."
"Digimon?" I repeated, filing the term away for later investigation.
"Yeah, Ogremon called himself a Digimon, and also the cats and the lion. Said they're all connected somehow."
The whole thing was bizarre. Chosen Child? Digimon?
"Thank you, Mr. Lincoln," I said, rising to my feet. "You've been more helpful than you know. I'll see what I can do about those… accommodations we discussed."
Tombstone nodded, his expression unreadable. As I left the room, I could feel his gaze boring into my back.
Back in the car, I pulled out my phone, and dialed Fury's number. He answered on the first ring.
"Coulson, what do you have?"
"It's… complicated, Director," I said, relaying the information Tombstone had provided. "The individual appears to be young, possibly a teenager. He's associated with entities identified as 'Digimon,' including two feline creatures and a 'lion.' Tombstone was also working with a Digimon called Ogremon. The Digimon world. A 'Chosen Child' thing. It's all pretty weird."
There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Digimon? Chosen Child? Sounds like something out of a comic book."
"That's what I thought, Director. But Tombstone was telling the truth. I could feel it."
"Alright, Coulson. Keep digging. I want to know everything about these 'Digimon' and this 'Chosen Child.' And I want to know now. Contact every expert we have. Magic, aliens, anything that could explain this.
"Understood, Director." I hung up, staring out the window at the city lights blurring past. This was getting stranger by the minute. Digimon? A Chosen Child? I had a feeling this was just the tip of the iceberg.
***
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