Najicablitz
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Digimon Ch 85
🕑 Added 2025-10-15 14:51:32 +0000 UTCWalking through the front doors of Midtown High feels... weird. It's only been a few weeks since the Abomination incident turned this place into a combat zone, but the school is completely different. The place practically gleams. New paint, sparkling floors, state-of-the-art everything. Stark Industries really went all out.
But it's not just the physical changes. It's me. I'm different. South America, battling the Hulk, trading blows with a corrupted Abomination... It feels like a lifetime since I was just a regular high school student, worrying about pop quizzes and flirting with cute girls.
Now, I’m a semi-experienced Digimon Tamer with a growing collection of digital monsters, a bike from hell, and a superhero alter ego that's starting to attract unwanted attention. High school seems almost... quaint. Like a movie I once saw.
I push through the crowded hallways, the familiar faces seeming strangely distant. I spot a few students glancing my way, probably whispering about the attack and whether or not I was involved. I keep my head down, trying to blend in. Failing miserably, of course.
Then, I see them. Standing near our usual lockers, radiating an aura of normalcy that I desperately need. Gwen and Peter.
"Ethan!" Gwen shouts, her face lighting up.
"Dude, you're back!" Peter exclaims, relief evident in his voice.
A wave of warmth washes over me. These are my friends. My anchors to this world.
"Hey guys," I say, a genuine smile spreading across my face. "Good to be back."
Gwen throws her arms around me in a hug. "We were so worried! Are you okay? What happened to you?"
"Yeah, man, you just disappeared," Peter chimes in, "We thought you died!"
I wince, knowing I'm about to launch into a carefully constructed web of lies. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Just... needed to get away for a bit. A little vacation, you know?"
I give Peter a knowing look, not wanting to mention the Digimon stuff to him. "So what did you guys do during the closure? Anything exciting?"
Gwen elbows me, giving me a knowing look. I had told her about the Digimon when she came over that day.
"Not really," Peter says, shrugging. "Mostly just helped Aunt May around the house. Did a little photography."
Thank god Peter is not working in the Daily Bugle. Not that I want him to be, the guy's not Spider-Man yet. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to him. I'm not ready to deal with the consequences of Peter getting bit by a spider.
"Did you finally get that internship at Oscorp?" I ask.
"Nah," Peter replies. "Still trying. Maybe this field trip will help."
"That's cool. Good luck."
"How about you, Gwen?" I ask.
"Just studying. I was also doing some volunteering at the hospital." She pauses, a shadow crossing her face. "It was hard seeing people in such bad shape after what happened in Harlem."
I wince, guilt gnawing at me. "Yeah, tell me about it."
"Alright, I need to get going. Class is about to start," Peter says, glancing at the clock. "It's good to have you back, man. We should hang out sometime."
"Definitely," I reply. "See ya later."
Peter waves and heads down the hallway, leaving me alone with Gwen.
"So," Gwen says, her voice dropping to a serious tone. "Harlem. You okay? What really happened, Ethan?"
I sigh, knowing I can't dodge this one. I look around to make sure no one is eavesdropping before pulling Gwen closer and lowering my voice.
I recount what I saw in Harlem, keeping it real. The Hulk, the Abomination going nuts, a shadowy force taking control, and then my screw up with Greymon becoming SkullGreymon. There were too many explosions, collateral damage, and I still don’t know if it was the right call to make, but I am sure I’ll be paying for that one for a while.
Gwen's face is pale. "Wow, Ethan," she says softly, "that sounds... awful. I can't believe you went through all that."
She pauses, her gaze turning distant. "My dad's been so stressed lately. He's been working non-stop since the Harlem thing. He said it's like the city has gone to hell. I haven't seen him so tired."
She looks at me with a mix of concern and understanding. "Many people died, and more people lost their homes in Harlem. It's hard to see all those people hurting."
I cringe. "Yeah, I know. I felt bad, because I had some part of it with SkullGreymon going berserk and all."
It's hard to articulate the guilt that's been weighing on me. I tried to do the right thing, but my actions led to destruction and suffering. How many people were injured because of me? How many families were displaced?
"The public outcry was minimized when Tony Stark announced that he would be sending relief support, and he will be funding the reconstruction of Harlem," Gwen continues, a hint of relief in her voice. "So at least that's something.
"Thank god for Tony. I swear I'll have to pay him back for what he has done. That's a lot of money to pay for a reconstruction of Harlem. I don't think I will ever make that much money."
I try to lighten the mood, wanting to change the subject. "Hey, speaking of Digimon," I say, forcing a smile, "I got a new one."
Gwen raises an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity replacing the sadness in her eyes. "Oh yeah? What is it?"
I pull out my Digivice, tapping the screen to activate the communication function. "Gwen, meet Ballistamon."
The device crackles to life, and Ballistamon's gentle voice fills the air. "Greetings, Gwen. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Gwen's eyes widen in surprise. "Whoa! That's... cool."
Then, her expression shifts. A playful pout forms on her lips, and she starts walking faster, heading toward class.
"Of course you do," she says, a hint of playful annoyance in her stride. "Another Digimon. Just what you needed."
I blink, slightly confused by the sudden change in her demeanor. Is she... jealous?
I scratch my head, trying to process what just happened.
"Hey, wait up!" I shout, hurrying after her.
She picks up the pace, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Come on, slowpoke! We're gonna be late!"
I grin, shaking my head. Girls, man. They're a puzzle I'll never fully solve.
I jog to catch up with Gwen, falling into step beside her. As we walk toward class, the familiar sounds of Midtown High wash over me: the chatter of students, the slamming of lockers, the distant drone of the PA system.
