-Ethan-
The couch groaned beneath me like it was sharing the sentiment. For once, its familiar, lumpy comfort felt like a lie. The Digivice in my hand was a cold, inert brick of plastic and failure. No alerts, no missions, no helpful intel. Just a blank screen mocking me while the image of Jessica's empty, vacant eyes burned a hole in my chest.
It was a physical weight, that memory. A cold, hard knot of pure, useless fury. I was coiled tight, ready to spring, but Black Widow's calm, strategic voice was a cage. Wait. Plan. She was right, and that just made the waiting feel worse.
A sharp, rapid-fire knock jolted me out of the spiral. Seriously? Who the hell—
I dragged myself to the door, a low growl of annoyance already forming in my throat. I yanked it open, ready to tell whatever salesman or neighbor to get lost.
"Late again, I see. I was starting to think you'd skipped town."
Olivia. She stood there holding a plate of her infamous "special blend" cookies, a warm, concerned smile on her face that felt as jarring as a bucket of ice water over my seething anger. It was a complete, tonal shift I wasn't prepared for.
"Oh. Hey, Olivia."
"Brought you something. You look like you could use the sugar. And the… other ingredients." She held the plate out, her smile turning playful. Then it softened, her sharp black eyes scanning my face. "Everything alright, Ethan? It's been… quiet. Too quiet."
My brain went into overdrive. Quiet? What did she mean by quiet?
"Yeah, fine. Just… a lot of homework."
"I haven't seen Jessica in a few days," she said, her voice dropping to a more genuine, worried tone. "Her apartment's been silent. She usually comes by for tea on Tuesdays. Is she staying with a friend?"
The question hit me like a punch to the gut. The lie formed on my lips automatically, a flimsy shield.
"Oh, uh, yeah. Gwen's. She's staying with Gwen for a bit. Girl stuff, you know?" It sounded hollow even to me. What "girl stuff"? A spa weekend?
Olivia's head tilted slightly. She didn't look convinced. "Is that so? She didn't mention anything to me. And she seemed… a little off, the last time I saw her. Before she vanished."
She pressed further, her concern a gentle, persistent force. "I worry about her, Ethan. After everything… she needs people checking in on her."
The image of Jessica, standing frozen on that carousel horse, flashed behind my eyes. Off was the understatement of the century. My throat tightened. This wasn't just my landlord making small talk. Olivia had taken Jessica in, fought to be her guardian. This was real concern, and I was standing here feeding her garbage.
The pressure built. The thin veneer of the lie started to crack under the weight of her sincerity and my own guilt. I couldn't look at her. I stared at a crack in the floorboard, my jaw clenching.
Then I looked up. I met her eyes, and all the strategic composure, all the sarcastic deflection I usually relied on, just evaporated. What came out was raw, unfiltered, and it surprised even me with its force.
"I'll bring her back."
The words were simple. But they weren't casual. They were a vow, heavy and absolute, loaded with everything I couldn't say. I failed her once. I won't do it again. Whatever it takes.
Olivia's playful smile vanished. That warm, teasing light in her eyes dimmed, replaced by something thoughtful and solemn. She studied my face for a long moment, seeing past the teenager to the sheer, desperate resolve underneath.
She didn't ask for an explanation. She just gave a slow, small nod.
"Alright, Ethan," she said softly. She placed the plate of cookies on the small table by the door. "You know where to find me."
She turned and walked down the hall, her heels clicking softly on the linoleum. I watched her until she turned the corner, then closed the door.
The silence of the apartment rushed back in, but it was different now. It wasn't just empty. It was charged, pressing down on me with the full, crushing weight of the promise I'd just made.
This wasn't just a Digimon hunt anymore. It wasn't just beating a villain. I'd just committed to something far deeper, and the cost of failure suddenly felt immeasurable.
* * *
-Impmon-
Ugh. My ribs still ache, a stupid, sharp reminder of that pink-haired weirdo. The city's buzzing down there, full of idiots and their dumb problems. And where's the human? Sulking, probably. Moping in his apartment instead of finding that Killgrave jerk.
I spot a scrawny stray cat in the alley below, licking its paw like the world's most important job. Pathetic.
"You wouldn't get it," I say to the stupid cat. "You have one job. Lick. Sleep. Steal trash. Easy. You know what's not easy? Dealing with an annoying superhero who gets herself mind-controlled."
The cat pauses, looks up with these dead, empty eyes, then goes back to licking. Seriously? That's it?
"She ruins everything!" I gesture wildly at the air. "The whole city's full of these broken people doing whatever that purple-suited freak says, and it's boring! No good pranks, no fun fights, just a bunch of zombies. And she was supposed to be the fun one! The one who'd actually fight back!"
My side throbs again. I wince and rub at it. That punch... it wasn't just strong. It was empty. Like hitting a wall that didn't even know it was being hit.
A stupid memory flashes—her swooping down, all earnest and shiny, telling those SHIELD goons to back off from me. I scoff and flick my tail.
"Not the point. The point is she's messing with my routine. My chaos! You can't have good chaos when half the players are just puppets. It's... it's disrespectful to the art of mischief!"
The cat yawns, showing off a pink mouth and tiny teeth. Useless. Absolutely useless as a listener.
This is taking too long. That nerd Ethan is probably drawing up charts or talking to his cats or something equally boring. Planning. Always planning.
"Fine. You know what? Forget him. I don't need some human nerd to fix my problems."
I stand up on the fire escape, the metal groaning under my feet. The ache in my side is a constant, nagging whisper. Something's wrong with her. Really wrong. And it's throwing everything off.
"I'm just going to find her myself. Settle the score. Get even with that Killgrave guy for ruining a perfectly good source of entertainment. That's all."
I puff out my chest, trying to make the declaration sound bigger than it feels. The cat just blinks.
With a huff, I vanish in a puff of purple smoke, leaving the mangy thing to its grooming. I'm not doing this because I care. I'm doing it because my world doesn't work right when someone like her is broken. It's a practical thing. Totally practical.
***
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