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Digimon Ch 88
🕑 Added 2025-10-18 15:10:32 +0000 UTCI stroll through Central Park with Gwen and Peter. We grab a bench overlooking the Bethesda Fountain. The weather is perfect, not too hot and not too cold, with just a slight breeze. It’s almost… normal.
"Did you hear about the First National Bank getting hit?" Gwen asks.
Peter nods, "Yeah, and it wasn't just a robbery. People were seeing stuff, freaking out. It was like something out of a horror movie."
"My dad's working the case," Gwen says. "He says the whole thing is beyond strange. People hallucinating, claiming they saw their worst nightmares. The tellers were babbling about shadows and voices."
"Sounds like Gotham City," I reply. "What's next, a clown running for mayor?"
Peter frowns. "It's not just the bank, though. I heard about some weird incidents downtown, too. People just collapsing in the streets, screaming about their fears."
"It is getting weird out there, isn't it?"
Gwen sighs. "Dad says there's a real sense of unease spreading through the city. People are scared, and they don't even know why."
Suddenly, my Digivice pings with a new mission alert. Great, just when I was starting to enjoy some peace and quiet.
[New Mission: Investigate the fear incidents.] the System declares.
I groan inwardly. Is a Digimon involved? It's too much of a coincidence, otherwise. Human criminals don't usually deal in mass hysteria and waking nightmares. The nagging sensation in the back of my mind says I need to get involved. It's like the System's way of telling me to do the right thing. Again.
"Guys, I gotta cut out," Peter says, standing. "Aunt May needs help with some stuff, and then I gotta head over to the photography studio."
"Alright, Pete. Stay out of trouble," I say.
"Always," he replies with a wry smile, before heading off.
Gwen turns to me, concern etched on her face. "What's going on, Ethan? You've been quiet since the bank thing came up."
I hesitate, then decide to be honest. "I think… I think there might be something more to this than just some crazy robberies."
She narrows her eyes, piecing it together. "A Digimon?"
I nod. "It's a hunch, but with everything that's been happening… it feels like more than just human crime."
Gwen shivers. "So, what are you going to do?"
"I'm gonna look into it. Someone's gotta figure out what's going on before things get worse."
"You think you can handle it?"
I smirk. "Hey, I took down a Digimon that leveled half of Harlem. I think I can manage some scared bank tellers."
Gwen looks relieved, but her eyes still hold a hint of worry. "Just… be careful, okay? Dad's already stressed enough with all this. And please, if you need help…"
"I know, I know. I'll call. But for now, I gotta play hero. Again."
She smiles, squeezing my hand. "I trust you, Ethan. Just… come back safe."
(New York, Night)
Okay, I gotta admit, playing detective isn’t exactly my forte. Night falls, and I'm cruising through the city streets on Behemoth. I've got the Digi-Camo on, but otherwise, it’s just me, the bike, and the open road. I am the night. Or something.
The Digivice is frustratingly silent, offering no specific direction beyond the vague mission prompt.
"Investigate the fear incidents."
Yeah, thanks, System. Real helpful. I need a starting point, not a fortune cookie.
I ride through Times Square, then swing by the Financial District, hoping to pick up some kind of signal. Nothing. The Digivice stays stubbornly blank, as if mocking my efforts. The bike rumbles beneath me, and the only sound is the city’s ever-present hum. Even on the mean streets, this thing is drawing blanks.
I am no Sherlock Holmes. I'm just a dude with some cartoon cats and a magic motorcycle, trying to figure out why everyone's suddenly seeing monsters. I'm a Digimon Tamer, not a detective. Hell, I am barely a high school graduate.
But still, the look on Gwen’s face… the news reports of people genuinely terrified… I can’t just sit around and do nothing.
I’m about to write off the night, when suddenly, a symphony of screams pierces the night air. The sounds are coming from uptown.
"Looks like we finally got a lead."
I crank the throttle, and Behemoth roars to life, its hellish flames licking at the asphalt. We tear through the streets, the city lights blurring into streaks of color. I follow the sound, the screams growing louder and more frantic with each passing second.
I arrive at Oscorp to find total pandemonium. Employees are pouring out of the building, their faces contorted in terror. Some are babbling incoherently, while others are simply collapsing, their bodies wracked with sobs. The air is thick with a sense of dread.
What the hell is going on?
I pull Behemoth to a screeching halt and scan the scene. No one seems to notice the black bike. The scene is too intense. The security guards are useless, frozen in place, or worse, running amok with the rest of the crowd. The stench of fear hangs heavy in the air.
I sense a Digimon presence, faint but definitely there. This is it. This is what I've been looking for.
"Alright, ladies, time to work," I mutter. "Gatomon, BlackGatomon, let's go!"
I release Gatomon and BlackGatomon from the Digivice. They materialize beside me, their eyes narrowed, taking in the chaos.
"What is that smell?" Gatomon asks, wrinkling her nose.
"Something's definitely wrong here," BlackGatomon says, her claws extending. "Let's find out what’s causing all this mess."
I nod, and the three of us cautiously approach Oscorp's entrance. The glass doors are shattered, and the lobby is deserted, save for a few terrified stragglers huddled in the corners.
"Stay sharp," I whisper. "Something's not right here."
We move stealthily through the building. The silence is deafening, broken only by the distant echoes of screams. As we round a corner, we come face-to-face with two figures standing in the middle of the hallway.
The first is a man in a bizarre skull mask, clad in a patchwork coat that looks like it's been stitched together from old movie costumes. The second is a spectral Digimon wearing a giant witch hat. What in the world?!
Seriously, what is this dude's fashion sense?
I flick on the Digi-Goggles and scan the spooky hat-wearing ghost. System identifies it as a Soulmon. Great. Another one for the collection. Just what I needed.
The skull-faced dude, whom I now assume is the maestro of this freak show, finally notices us. He turns slowly, his skull mask giving me the creeps.
"Well, well, well," he drawls, his voice theatrical and grating. "What have we here? A couple of…cats and a kid in a jacket?"
Before I can respond, the Soulmon floats closer, its shadowy form rippling.
"Master, it is him," it hisses, its voice like nails on a chalkboard. "The Chosen Child."
"Ah, so you're the famous Chosen Child," the skull-faced guy says, his tone dripping with mock enthusiasm. "Jokermon and Soulmon have told me so much about you. Said if I ever ran into you, I should… eliminate you."
Jokermon? Soulmon? Okay, that confirms it. This guy is definitely mixed up with some seriously messed up Digimon stuff. Tombstone and Stane, part two, here we come.
He bows dramatically, a gesture that would be almost comical if it weren't for the sheer creepiness of his mask.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mr. Fear. And you, my dear Chosen Child, are about to experience a Fear Renaissance."
I narrow my eyes. Mr. Fear, huh? Sounds about right.
"A Fear Renaissance? Is that what you're calling this? Seems more like a mental breakdown to me."
I glance at Gatomon and BlackGatomon, who are poised for action. I don’t know what this Mr. Fear is planning, but I can sense that same dark aura, that same twisted connection, that I’ve seen before. He is going down.
"Look, Mr. Fear," I say, "I don't know what kind of twisted performance you're putting on here, but it ends now."
Mr. Fear chuckles, a dry, rattling sound. "Ends now? Oh, my dear boy, it's only just beginning! I'm offering the world a glimpse into its deepest terrors. A chance to confront its hidden anxieties! What are you offering? Empty platitudes?"
Before I can call out Gatomon and BlackGatomon, a red blur smashes through a nearby window, showering us with shards of glass. A figure in a crimson suit lands gracefully between us, billy club extended. Horns and everything.
"I believe this 'performance' is over, Fear," the figure growls, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.
Wait a minute… Is that Daredevil? What the hell is he doing here?
