I slumped into a grimy corner behind the concession stand, my back scraping against chipped tile. Every muscle screamed, and the phantom weight of the Beetlemon armor was gone, leaving behind a bone-deep ache that felt more real.
My Digivice screen was still flashing that damn low-energy warning, a steady red pulse in the gloom. Each flash felt like it was draining me a little more, pulling the last of my fight out through my fingertips.
Gatomon settled quietly beside me, her ears twitching at every rustle of wind through the broken park. She didn't say anything. She was just there, which was good, because right then I didn't think I could handle a pep talk.
All I could see was Jessica's face. Not her Jewel face, not the one she put on for the public. Her real face, the one from school, but empty. Blank eyes staring right through me like I was part of the scenery. And behind her, Killgrave's smug, bored expression, like he was watching a disappointing TV show.
The Digivice buzzed against my palm. A call.
I swiped to answer, my voice coming out rough and flat. "Yeah."
"Kepler. Status." Black Widow's voice was a cool blade cutting through the static in my head.
I took a breath that hurt my ribs. "Ambush. He was waiting for us. He's got a Digimon working for him now, some giant ox-spider thing called Gyuukimon. Ultimate level."
I could hear her typing on the other end, her focus absolute.
"And Jessica?"
The words felt like ash in my mouth. "He's got her. Completely. She's… it's not her. She attacked Impmon. She attacked me. I had to Spirit Evolve just to survive the hits."
The admission tasted like failure. I squeezed the Digivice tighter, the plastic casing groaning.
"You engaged?" Her tone was neutral, probing.
"I couldn't." The frustration boiled over, sharp and hot. "He had her right there, standing guard like a damn attack dog. I couldn't fight back, not really. Any big move, any area attack, and she's in the blast radius. He used her as a living shield."
I was pacing now, the short, painful steps of a caged animal. Gatomon watched me, her expression unreadable.
"He tried to get in my head, too. Told me to destroy my own partners. The Beetlemon energy shorted it out, fried his Shadowstone for a second. That's the only reason we got away."
I stopped, leaning my forehead against the cold wall. "Impmon and BlackGatomon… they created a diversion. We ran. We just… ran."
The silence on the line stretched. I knew what she was thinking. Outmaneuvered. Outplayed. My friend turned into a weapon against me, and I had no counter.
"Killgrave's tactics are evolving."
Black Widow's voice cut through the room like a scalpel. She wasn't talking about what I'd felt, the guilt or the anger. She was talking about a data set.
"The combination of his mind control with the Digimon element creates a new threat profile. His strategic use of Jewel as a human shield demonstrates a level of depth we hadn't previously attributed to him."
My immediate thought was to tell her where she could shove her threat profile. I'd just watched a friend's face go blank on command, felt the sting of her controlled fist.
"Your escape, while tactically disadvantageous in the moment, provided invaluable intel."
There it was. She was dissecting my failure and calling it a field report. The choice to pull back, to not fight through Jessica… she was framing it as a confirmation of Killgrave's methodology.
"My decision proved his manipulative genius?"
I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my voice. It wasn't a decision. It was a reflex. You don't smash the hostage.
"Precisely. It gave us concrete data on the limits of his control and how he exploits it. We now understand his defensive parameters."
She was so calm, so detached. It was like she was analyzing a chessboard where the pieces didn't have feelings. I wanted to argue, to tell her she was missing the point.
But the strategist in me, the part that views everything like a game, had to admit she wasn't wrong. There was a twisted logic to it.
The brutal lesson had provided something useful. The raw, emotional need for an immediate rescue started to curdle in my gut, replaced by a colder, sharper understanding.
This wasn't just a villain with a power. It was a strategic opponent. And my impulsive charge had just given him exactly what he wanted.
Her voice, devoid of any warmth, still grated on my raw nerves. But the anger it stoked was changing.
It wasn't just personal frustration anymore. It was a focused, strategic anger. My inability to act wasn't a dead end.
It was a necessary detour. A detour to gather information for a counterattack that wouldn't be emotionally compromised.
The sheer coldness of that thought made my stomach twist. But it also felt, undeniably, like the correct move on the board.
The line cut off. I was left staring at the blank screen of my Digivice, her words just hanging there in the air she'd left empty. "Formulate a precise counter-strategy. Detached, strategic approach."
Right. Because what I'd just done was the opposite of detached. It was stupid. It was emotional. It was charging in like some idiot in a shonen manga, thinking my feelings were a superpower.
And they'd almost gotten Gatomon and Impmon killed because of it.
The ache in my muscles was a dull, constant throb now. But it was nothing compared to the new kind of tension coiling in my gut. A cold, heavy knot of reality. Black Widow wasn't wrong. She was just stating the obvious tactical failure I'd been too pissed off to see.
My feelings for Jessica weren't a weapon. They were a target. A big, glowing one Killgrave had painted on my back the second he took her. And I'd walked right into it.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. It shook a little.
All I could think about was her. Still out there. Still wearing that bright costume, a puppet on his strings. A toy in his cruel game. The image of her standing frozen on that carousel horse, blank-eyed, made my fists clench.
But the anger was different now. It wasn't hot and rushing. It was settling, hardening. Like ice.
I wasn't going to let that happen again. I couldn't afford to. Next time, I wouldn't just fail. I'd lose someone for good.
***
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