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Digimon Ch 11 Rewrite
🕑 Added 2025-08-31 15:01:37 +0000 UTCAfter an awful day of school, I practically sprinted out of Midtown High, dodging flailing limbs and flying textbooks. The air smelled like desperation and cheap cologne, a potent combo. I needed to get home and formulate a plan.
As I walked towards my building, who else do I spot but Olivia. She was standing near the entrance, watering the sad little flower bed in front.
"Ethan!" she called out, waving me over. "How was school?"
"It was… school," I said, trying to keep the grimace off my face. "Listen, Olivia, about the rent…"
"Relax, honey," she said with a disarming smile. "I was actually thinking, why don't you come up for a bit? I'm making dinner. I could use the company."
Now, I'm not usually one to turn down free food, but I also wasn't sure if I could take any more of her "special" coffee. Still, I figured it couldn't hurt to be on her good side, and maybe, just maybe, I could wiggle my way into a better payment plan.
"Sure," I said, trying to sound enthusiastic. "That sounds… nice."
I follow Olivia into her apartment. It's surprisingly cozy, all soft lighting and plush furniture. Bookshelves line one wall, filled with everything from classic literature to trashy romance novels. The air smells faintly of lavender and something vaguely… metallic?
She gestures for me to sit at the small kitchen table. "Make yourself comfortable, Ethan. Dinner will be ready soon."
She places a mug in front of me, filled with steaming, dark liquid. "Coffee?" she asks, already knowing the answer.
"So," she said, settling across from me. "How was it? All that learning and stuff?"
I took a deep breath. "It was... informative. A real eye-opener, you know? I am so glad to be back in school."
Olivia gives me a look that says she doesn't believe a word I am saying.
Suddenly, a chime cuts through our conversation. Olivia glances at her laptop, which is sitting open on the counter.
"Oh, excuse me for a sec," she says, her eyes widening slightly. "That's probably important."
She gets back to work on her laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard. I peek over her shoulder and notice she's looking at the stock market. Numbers and charts are all over the screen.
"You're into stocks?" I ask, genuinely curious.
Olivia laughs. "Into them? Honey, I practically live off them. I own stocks in multiple companies, plus a few businesses of my own."
Okay, wow. Olivia is filthy rich. I had no idea. She’s casually looking at her Stark Industries portfolio. I notice the line graph is on a sharp downward trend. Ever since Tony went missing, those stocks have tanked.
"You should save some of that Stark stock," I say without thinking.
She raises an eyebrow at me. "Save it? Why?"
"Uh, no reason," I stammer, realizing I'm treading on dangerous ground. What could I even say? Oh, Tony Stark is Iron Man, and he’ll be back soon to pump the stock? Yeah, that would go over well. "Just a hunch."
Olivia shrugs off my comment and hands me a steaming mug. "Here, try my special blend. It'll clear your head."
I take a sip, and immediately my eyes go wide. My stomach churns. What. The. Hell. Is this?! I can't help myself, and I spit the liquid back into the mug.
"What is in this?!" I gasp, wiping my tongue with the back of my hand.
Olivia's smiling. "My own recipe! It's got a little bit of everything. What do you taste?"
I take a tentative sniff of the mug. "I definitely taste wasabi. And... is that pepper? And... mayonnaise?!" My voice rises in disbelief.
"A little kick, a little spice, a little creaminess," she says, as if this is the most normal thing in the world. "I also threw in some fish sauce, liquid smoke, and a dash of Worcestershire."
"Fish sauce?! Liquid smoke?! In coffee?!" I exclaim. "Who does that?!"
"I do," she says, completely unfazed. "It's an acquired taste."
"Do you actually… drink this stuff?" I ask, my face scrunched up in disgust.
"Every morning," she says, taking a long sip from her own mug. "Gets me going."
I stare at her, completely baffled. Her taste buds must be totally shot. How can anyone willingly drink this vile concoction?
"Wow," I finally manage to say. "Your… your taste buds must be something else."
"That's one way to put it," she replies with a chuckle. "But hey, at least it's memorable, right?"
I can't help but laugh. Yeah, memorable is definitely one word for it. "Memorable and awful." I'm still reeling from that taste.
"More for me, then," she says, grabbing my rejected mug.
I watch her take another sip, a strange mix of horror and fascination on my face. This woman is an enigma, a walking, talking paradox. One thing is clear: I'm never accepting coffee from her again.
"Ethan, honey, we need to talk about your rent."
My stomach drops. I knew this was coming. "I know, Olivia, I'm really sorry. Things have been kinda tight lately, but I promise I'll get it to you soon."
She sighs, setting her laptop aside. "I appreciate that, Ethan, I really do. But 'soon' doesn't pay the bills. I like you, kid, but I can’t just let you live here for free."
I look down at my shoes, feeling like dirt. "I understand. I'll figure something out, I swear."
Olivia purses her lips, thinking. "Alright, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to give you until the end of the week to come up with the money."
"Okay," I say with a small glimmer of hope.
"But," she continues, her voice taking on a harder edge, "if you don't have it by then, you're going to work for me until you pay off what you owe. No excuses."
Work for Olivia? It’s not the worst idea. She's a cool woman, and who knows what kind of interesting jobs she might have? Plus, it beats being homeless. "That sounds… manageable."
"Manageable, huh?" She leans forward, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Oh, it'll be 'manageable', alright. First thing, you'll be cleaning out my storage unit downtown. It's filled with junk from floor to ceiling, and I want it spotless."
I nod, still thinking it won't be too bad.
"Then," she continues, "there's the garden at my beach house. It's overgrown, and I need it completely redone. We are talking weeding, digging, planting. No machinery, all manual."
My throat feels tight. Still, I could handle it.
"And," she adds with a flourish, "I have a friend who needs help renovating his brownstone. Demolition, hauling materials, the whole nine yards. I told him you were a strong young man."
Demolition? Hauling? My back aches just thinking about it. Olivia is not messing around. This is straight-up manual labor, the kind that breaks your body. I'm basically a modern-day slave.
"I'll get the money," I blurt out, my voice strained. "I swear, I'll have it by the end of the week."
I bolt out of her apartment, the image of that storage unit and the brownstone flashing in my head. As soon as I'm out on the street, I pull out my Digivice, desperate for a solution.
I have to come up with a ton of cash, and fast. How am I supposed to do that?
[New Mission: Destroy 10 hideouts of the Tombstone gang.]
[Progress: 0/10]
[Reward: 10x Supply Box]
[Time Limit: 7 Days]
What? A mission just popped up? Out of the blue? That's… unexpected. I stare at the Digivice, rereading the notification to make sure I am not seeing things. Destroy ten hideouts?
Okay, who is Tombstone? I wrack my brain, trying to remember from my past life. He's definitely a Spider-Man villain, right?
The System must have read my thoughts because another window pops up with the requested information.
[Tombstone, also known as Lonnie Lincoln, is an enforcer, crime boss, and hitman operating in New York City. He is characterized by his superhuman physique resulting from a lab accident, including increased strength, durability, and a chalk-white complexion. He is a frequent adversary of Spider-Man and other heroes. His operations include racketeering, drug trafficking, and murder-for-hire.]
Right, that albino dude with the super strength. This is going to be a problem. Ten hideouts in one week? Considering my level, this feels like a massive difficulty spike. But looking at the clock on my Digivice, I realize there's no time to waste. I need to prioritize this mission.
"Gatomon! BlackGatomon! We have a job to do!"
