Let's reach 450 Power Stones for an extra chapter
***
"MailBirdramon, let's swing back around," I say, gripping his metal feathers. "I wanna see what's left of those army guys."
MailBirdramon banks in a wide arc, giving me a bird's-eye view of the carnage below. It's exactly who I thought it would be—SHIELD. What a joke. They're scattered like toys after a toddler tantrum. Jeeps are overturned, smoking. Guys are limping around, clutching wounds. Not a pretty sight.
"Heh, looks like they weren't ready for prime time," I say, chuckling.
MailBirdramon hovers above the group, close enough for me to get a good look. And there he is, Agent Phil Coulson himself. He's barking orders, trying to get his team organized. He's got a nasty gash on his forehead, but he seems mostly okay.
"Alright, let's have some fun," I say, leaning forward. "MailBirdramon, descend, but not too close. Don't want to give them a heart attack."
MailBirdramon obliges, slowly lowering us until we're about fifty feet above the ground. Coulson spots us immediately, his eyes narrowing. He recognizes us from Times Square.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't SHIELD," I call out, my voice echoing through the jungle. "Having a bit of a rough day?"
Coulson glares up at me, his jaw tight. "Cipher," he says, his voice even. "We meet again."
"In the flesh," I reply. "Or, you know, metal and feathers." I pat MailBirdramon's side. "So, what brings you guys to the jungle? Vacation gone wrong?"
A few agents reach for their weapons, but Coulson holds up a hand, stopping them. He knows better than to start a fight he can't win.
"We're investigating reports of unusual activity," Coulson says, his eyes never leaving mine. "The same activity you seem to be involved in."
"Unusual activity? You mean like a giant bug tearing through your squad?" I ask, feigning innocence. "Yeah, that does sound pretty unusual. Good thing I was here to handle it, right?"
"You interfered with a SHIELD operation," Coulson says, his voice hardening.
"Interfered? I saved your bacon," I retort. "You guys were getting your butts kicked. That thing would have turned you into bug food."
"We had the situation under control," Coulson says, his tone clipped.
"Sure you did," I say, rolling my eyes. "That's why half your team is bleeding out. Look, I'm not trying to be a jerk, but you guys are clearly out of your depth. You're dealing with forces you don't understand."
I take a deep breath, trying to sound serious. "Digimon are dangerous, Coulson. And that Kuwagamon was just a warm-up. There are way stronger, way nastier Digimon out there, and they're coming here."
"And you think you're the only one who can stop them?" Coulson asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Maybe not the only one, but definitely the best one," I say, smirking. "I know how these things work. I know their weaknesses. You guys are just poking around in the dark, hoping you don't get eaten."
"We have resources, Cipher," Coulson says, his voice firm. "We can handle this."
"Resources? You mean guns and fancy gadgets?" I scoff. "That's cute. You need more than that to deal with Digimon. You need experience, you need knowledge, and you need partners who can actually fight."
I glance down at the injured agents, shaking my head. "Look, I'm not trying to start a turf war. I just want to protect this world. But if you guys keep getting in my way, I'm not gonna hold back."
Coulson stares up at me, his expression unreadable. I can tell he's not happy, but he also knows I'm right. He doesn't have the slightest idea what he's dealing with.
"So, what if we worked together?" Coulson asks, his voice surprisingly reasonable. "Share information, coordinate efforts. We both want the same thing, right?"
I almost laugh. Work with SHIELD? Seriously? "Appreciate the offer, Coulson, but I'm gonna have to pass."
"Why not?" He asks, clearly puzzled. "We could be a lot more effective as a team."
"Because I don't trust you," I say bluntly. "No offense, but SHIELD has a habit of keeping secrets, playing games. I don't have time for that."
Besides, I know what's lurking beneath the surface of SHIELD. I know the Hydra worms that are burrowed deep inside, pulling the strings. Telling Coulson about that would be like spoiling the biggest plot twist in the MCU. And I kind of like watching the show unfold.
"That's a pretty broad accusation," Coulson says, his eyes narrowing again.
"Maybe," I say, shrugging. "But I trust my gut. And my gut tells me to stay far, far away from SHIELD. I work better alone anyway."
I grin, patting MailBirdramon's side again. "Besides, I've got a pretty good team already."
I give Coulson a final nod. "Good luck with your 'investigation,' Agent Coulson. Try not to get eaten. Oh, and if you see any more giant bugs, just run."
"MailBirdramon, let's bounce," I say.
With a powerful flap of his metal wings, MailBirdramon shoots into the sky, leaving Coulson and his battered team behind. As we soar above the jungle, I can't help but wonder if I made the right call. But I'm not joining SHIELD anytime soon. I'm a one-man show.
-Bruce Banner-
My heart hammers against my ribs as I wipe the last traces of my blood from the assembly line. A single drop; that's all it took. One damn drop to send my world spiraling again. I jammed my thumb against the emergency stop, the machinery grinding to a halt with a groan. I hope it didn't go to any bottles. I don't need that kind of trouble.
Martina, bless her soul, rushed over, her face etched with concern. "Você está bem, Roberto?"
"Sim, Martina, eu estou bem," I say, forcing a smile. "Just a little accident. Nothing to worry about."
I know she doesn't believe me. She's seen the shadows in my eyes, the way I flinch at sudden noises. She knows I'm hiding something, something big and ugly.
"Go," she says, gently pushing me toward the back. "Take a rest. I'll handle this."
Grateful, I retreat to the relative quiet of the loading dock. The air is thick with the smell of sugar and cheap plastic, a cloying sweetness that always manages to settle in the back of my throat. I need to get out of here, back to my apartment, to my breathing exercises.
As I make my way past the towering stacks of Pingo Doce crates, I catch a flicker of movement in the shadows. Probably just a stray cat, I think, but curiosity gets the better of me. I creep closer, peering between the stacks.
At first, I think it's a child. A small, hunched figure lurking behind the crates. But then it turns, and I see it's something else entirely. Something…wrong.
It's frog-like, but all wrong. Wiry, green, and pale underneath. The eyes are too big, too intense. It has yellow webbing between its toes. Coiled around its neck is this weird, horn-like spiral tube, like something out of a bizarre musical instrument. And the tongue…God, the tongue! It's long and ends in three trumpet-like holes.
The creature stares back at me, its expression unreadable. Then, in a flash, it turns and disappears behind the crates, vanishing into the darkness.
I stumble back, my heart leaping into my throat. What the hell was that? My mind races, trying to make sense of what I just saw. It can't be real. It has to be some kind of hallucination, a side effect of the stress, the constant fear.
I grip my hands into fists, focusing on my breathing. In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. Don't let it happen. Don't let the other guy out.
Slowly, the panic subsides. The world comes back into focus. The sweat on my brow cools. Whatever that thing was, it's gone now. And I can't afford to dwell on it. I have to stay calm. I have to stay in control.
I turn and walk back toward the factory floor, pushing the image of the strange creature from my mind. It was nothing, just a trick of the light, a figment of my imagination. It doesn't matter. What matters is staying hidden, staying safe. What matters is making it to tomorrow without the other guy making an appearance.
I force a smile as I approach Martina, ready to get back to work. Whatever I saw back there, it can wait. I have bigger problems to worry about.
***
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